Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 38 - Hidden Traces

Hidden Traces

The Legend of the Ice People 38 - Hidden Traces

© Margit Sandemo 1986

© eBook in English: Jentas A/S, 2019

Series: The Legend of The Ice People

Title: Hidden Traces

Title number: 38

Original title: Små män kastar långa skuggor

Translator: Anna Halager

© Translation: Jentas A/S

ISBN: 978-87-7107-702-5

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchase.

All contracts and agreements regarding the work, translation, editing, and layout are owned by Jentas A/S.

Acknowledgement

The legend of the Ice People is dedicated with love and gratitude to the memory of my dear late husband Asbjorn Sandemo, who made my life a fairy tale.

Margit Sandemo

The Ice People - Reviews

‘Margit Sandemo is, simply, quite wonderful.’

- The Guardian

‘Full of convincing characters, well established in time and place, and enlightening ... will get your eyes popping, and quite possibly groins twitching ... these are graphic novels without pictures ... I want to know what happens next.’

- The Times

‘A mixure of myth and legend interwoven with historical events, this is imaginative creation that involves the reader from the first page to the last.’

- Historical Novels Review

‘Loved by the masses, the prolific Margit Sandemo has written over 172 novels to date and is Scandinavia's most widely read author...’

- Scanorama magazine

The Legend of the Ice People

The legend of the Ice People begins many centuries ago with Tengel the Evil. He was ruthless and greedy, and there was only one way to get everything that he wanted: he had to make a pact with the devil. He travelled far into the wilderness and summoned the devil with a magic potion that he had brewed in a pot. Tengel the Evil gained unlimited wealth and power but in exchange, he cursed his own family. One of his descendants in every generation would serve the Devil with evil deeds. When it was done, Tengel buried the pot. If anyone found it, the curse would be broken.

So the curse was passed down through Tengel’s descendants, the Ice People. One person in every generation was born with yellow cat’s eyes, a sign of the curse, and magical powers which they used to serve the Devil. One day the most powerful of all the cursed Ice People would be born.

This is what the legend says. Nobody knows whether it is true, but in the 16th century, a cursed child of the Ice People was born. He tried to turn evil into good, which is why they called him Tengel the Good. This legend is about his family. Actually, it is mostly about the women in his family – the women who held the fate of the Ice People in their hands.

Chapter 1

The Dolomites, 9 March 1939:

Snow was falling softly and heavily over the mountainous border regions between Italy, Austria and Yugoslavia, as if it wanted winter to last a little longer. It was night, and everything was calm up there in the little village, with its quiet, narrow streets where only a few lighted windows disturbed the darkness.

The silence was broken by rapid, stumbling steps along the street, gasping, jerking breaths tearing at exhausted lungs, and the doorbell ringing like crazy.

The drowsy doctor opened the door and a man virtually fell in over the threshold. He was a well-known, drunken tramp. His eyes showed that he was terrified as he held onto the doctor.

“I’ve seen ... seen ...”

The doctor shook him. “Well? What have you seen? White elephants?”

The man shook his head; he couldn’t get a word over his lips. “It came walking ... No, not walking ... it floated along, in an upright position ... It didn’t see me; it simply disappeared in the driving snow ... northwards ... towards ... Leaving ... a stench ...”

The doctor was irritated. “What did you see?”

But the man had lost his thread and was merely burbling unintelligibly. “Delirium? Never had it. Haven’t drunk much ... just a bit ...”

Then he suddenly collapsed in the doctor’s arms. His worn old brain had given in to the shock.

A wooded slope in the Jura, north of Ingolstadt, 10 March.

Crows ...

Crows and ravens had been circling excitedly over a certain spot in the forest all day long. Their agitated shrieks irritated the local population, who finally got a few men to look into the matter. They reached the spot up on the mountainside at dusk. By then, the shrieks had ceased, but they found a lot of dead birds around an old tree in the forest. There was no clue to what could have caused this massacre of crows and ravens – nothing but a sharp, repulsive smell that very nearly suffocated the men. Autopsies of the birds showed no sign of poisoning. The man who performed the autopsy guessed that the birds had died from paralysis of the heart. Birds can easily die when they are terrified.

Magdeburg, 11 March

Late in the evening, a young couple were driving out into the countryside. They stopped the car on a side road, and sat close to each other in the darkness. Their tender words were meant just for each other.

Suddenly, the girl stiffened. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“There ... no, there ...!”

“What on earth was that?”

The girl screamed, throwing herself hysterically at the boy. He extricated himself and started the car. They drove back to the town at very high speed and stopped at the police station. Their explanation was vague and incoherent. “We don’t know what it was, but it was like a swift shadow. It didn’t move like a human being, but it wasn’t an animal. But it was so dark that it could have been anything. And then that stench!”

They shuddered as if the memory made them nauseous. “No, we won’t be going back to that place – never, ever! It moved downwards ... Straight ahead.”

The police could discover nothing. A patrol car found no traces. Nothing but a vague, obnoxious smell, which seemed to stretch north and south like a belt.

Some miles to the north, a dead woman lay at the roadside. She had been on her way home after a party. Her face was a stiffened grimace of horror, her eyes wide open, under the falling snow.

They didn’t find her until a week later.

Tengel the Evil was out and about again.

The Ice People were in a mood of virtual panic. The clan’s scourge had vanished from his resting place.

Twenty-five years had passed since he had last emerged from his secret abode in the Postojna Cave. Twenty-five good years for the Ice People, during which they had been allowed to live free of the threat he posed.

But as the years went by, Imre and the Wanderer knew that Tengel’s deep hibernation was slowly beginning to loosen its grip once more. The Wanderer became more vigilant – nevertheless, Tengel the Evil escaped him at the decisive moment. The sly ancestor was able to trick his guard and divert his thoughts.

It was a disaster that he was now appearing openly. Nataniel, who was destined to fight against him, was still only a child. It was the ancestors’ wish that when Nataniel grew up he would go to the Valley of the Ice People and find the spot where Tengel the Evil had buried the vessel containing the water of evil. Then Shira was to neutralize it with her clear water. This was the only way that they could crush Tengel’s power. It wouldn’t be an easy task for the boy, even if he had strong helpers. Tengel the Evil would watch over his treasure like a dragon watching over its gold. And he had his allies, most of them unknown to the Ice People.