C11 Chapter 11

It was as if Saga’s arrival had woken Viljar out of his apathy and despair. Time and again, he would hug his wife and son in silent and profound declarations of love, which also spoke of anger and prayers for forgiveness. But, most of all, gratitude, because they had borne it with him.

Viljar’s drunkenness was not so deeply rooted in him that he could not see a way out, or fight the urge he felt from time to time. However, to be on the safe side, Saga searched through the Ice People’s vast supply of medicines and herbs and found a horribly bitter root, which she forced Viljar to take. The result was that whenever he felt the craving for strong drink, he would suffer a very violent reaction. That helped him a great deal.

Viljar couldn’t list all the good he wanted to do for them all. He wanted to catch up with everything all at once. Saga agreed to lend him the money to pay his worst creditors, who were threatening to seize the house.

The very next day after her arrival, all four of them drove to Christiania and settled matters with the creditors. On the way back, they were in exuberant spirits. They laughed and were full of joy and mirth, and didn’t know how to thank Saga. Viljar promised solemnly to pay the money back as quickly as possible. Saga just laughed and shook her head. He was just to take his time.

Then Viljar grew serious. “I’m awfully ashamed of myself,” he said. “That loan is just the final straw that broke the camel’s back. What I’ve done – or rather – what I haven’t done is much worse.”

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed,” said Belinda gently. She and Henning had the same innocent eyes. “We understood, and we always felt so sorry for you. Henning always wanted to help his father when he was going through difficult times.”

Viljar slumped. Saga thought of his childhood and youth. He had always taken everything very seriously and had been unable to confide in anybody. Throughout his childhood, he had never spoken a word about the ghost of Martha at Graastensholm, nor anything about his struggle to help the unhappy and poor in society ...

He was still the same, but now the consequences were greater. He couldn’t bring himself to share the responsibility with his nearest and dearest. He wanted to protect them, and when things got too much for him, he had resorted to the worst of all solutions: he had tried to forget everything by drinking.

But he wasn’t weak. He was just private, introverted, so conscientious that it was almost too much of a good thing.

“I can well understand how you felt,” said Saga thoughtfully. “After all, you were the only one left of the Ice People in Norway. Of course, you have Henning now, but you also have a legacy that you must pass on to him: Graastensholm. That’s a terrible thing to inherit. You and Belinda had nobody to turn to for advice, and you saw no way out of the misery. You couldn’t even sell Linden Avenue if you wanted to, because Graastensholm was still your responsibility. With the rage of the whole of Graastensholm Parish hanging over you ... I certainly understand you.”

“You’ve come as our guardian angel,” said Belinda.

Saga started at the word “angel” and felt a spasm of intense pain pass over her face. She had deliberately tried not to dwell too much on Lucifer, but she couldn’t completely erase him from her mind. The memory of him lay constantly in her subconscious mind. Sometimes she was able to draw strength from it, feeling immense joy at having got to know him at all. But most of the time, the memory just hurt. Knowing that she would never see him again, never hear his voice or feel his closeness, was so painful. At such moments, everything seemed empty and futile.

Looking at Viljar, she said: “Well, let’s tackle this miserable state of affairs, shall we?” He knew immediately what she meant.

“Yes, whenever you’re ready.”

“Good. I need to take a look in the Ice People’s treasure to see whether there’s anything I can use. As you know, Heike used it to conjure up the grey people. Perhaps I might come across something that can drive them back to their shadow world. I don’t know.”

Actually, I know far too little, she thought to herself. I’m worried. I’ll have to feel my way. But if things are bad as Viljar says, they’re bound to do away with me if they sense I’m weak.”

Not a very nice prospect!

All the following day, Saga spent preparing herself. No matter how much she searched in the Ice People’s treasure, no matter how much she read in age-old documents, she found nothing that could help her in this case. She didn’t have Heike’s ability to conjure up guardian spirits, asking them for advice, nor did they come to her for that matter.

She realized that she was very, very alone. Totally alone.

She felt exactly the way Shira had felt when she stood by the mountain wall that was to lead into the grottos. Now it was Saga’s turn. Her task was a different one, but just as lonely.

She didn’t know what would happen, but she prepared herself for a tough struggle. The three members of Viljar’s family felt deeply uneasy. If only they could help her, but what could they do? Viljar had tried several times to enter Graastensholm without success. The grey people had taken it over completely.

She wanted to avoid a Sunday or a Thursday. It was common knowledge that those weren’t auspicious days on which to engage with abominations from the other world. So she had to wait an extra day, but then everything was ready.

She ate a hearty breakfast and made sure she felt rested. That was all she could do. Viljar followed her up the short cut leading across the meadow. He stopped outside the gate. This was where he wished her good luck and said that he would wait for her until she reappeared.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “First of all, we don’t know how long it will take. Second, you may be tempted to walk inside yourself if I’m gone for a long time, and that’s something you really must not do!”

“What if you don’t come out at all?”

Saga gazed up towards the haunted house. “Give me four days.”

“Four days? Are you crazy? I’d reckoned on a few hours!”

“Four days are the maximum. I can manage for that long without food. If I haven’t returned by then, you must assume that I was unsuccessful. Anyway, I believe it will be a matter of hours and not days. Preferably minutes!” she added with a small laugh.

Viljar looked at her. He was horrified. “Heavens, you don’t seem the least bit frightened. You’ve absolutely no idea what they can get up to!”

“They say that not being able to feel fear is a sign of weakness. But for me it’s a quite wonderful feeling. Viljar, I want this to be a success! If I fail, you’ve also had it! So has the entire clan.”

“I know. I’ll wait here until you’ve entered the house. If you do get in. Most people don’t get beyond the gate.”

Saga nodded.

It was a clear day, with no sun but with a strong light nevertheless. Saga looked towards Graastensholm once more and felt profoundly sad. Once, Graastensholm had been the pride of the parish. The Meidens and the Ice People had lived a good life here. Liv had walked about the garden tending to her rose bushes. There were no roses any more. Dag had invited his fellow judges home to grand parties. Mattias had practised as a doctor here. Ingrid and Ulvhedin had celebrated orgies of witchcraft and had been the first to bring the grey people here. This was where Heike, the lonely one, had come and where he had lived with his wife, Vinga, after they had won the house back from Snivel.

Then things had gone wrong. It was a disaster that Heike had lured the grey people here again, even if it meant that the Ice People regained Graastensholm, and with it the secret that was hidden in the loft.

Viljar was unable to say anything. He just gave her a quick hug. He looked so much better now, freshly shaven and with his hair newly washed, nice and well-groomed. His eyes were still puffy – so was his whole face, in fact – but he was moving in the right direction. Now she mustn’t spoil everything by failing.

Graastensholm was truly awe-inspiring at close quarters. But even the gate and the wall were in disrepair. Grey, colourless and crumbling, and completely derelict here and there.

And the house itself ...?

Please give me strength, Saga thought.

Jackdaws had built a nest in what remained of the tower. The tower where Dag and Liv, as children, had gazed out over the village. There wasn’t one whole windowpane in Graastensholm. Behind the broken glass, the curtains hung in tatters. The house walls were in just as bad a state as the boundary wall: just as grey and crumbling. The pattern over the entrance was hardly visible any more.

Saga muttered through clenched teeth: “You’ve had sixty-five years. That’s enough!” She knew, however, that the venerable Graastensholm could never be rebuilt. She had no idea what the fate of the estate would be if she succeeded in liberating it from the grey people. The buildings that stood there now were beyond salvation.

She gave Viljar a nod. He retreated a little to sit on an old milk ramp, and she went in through the gate.

At that moment, it was as if she heard a sigh of shock and agitation. A unanimous sigh from many throats. Saga had brought with her an additional protective object from the Ice People’s collection. It was the very best thing she had: the mandrake.

At long last, she had admitted to herself that she might, after all, have the right to it. It had been so much a part of Heike that she always felt that it was sacrilege even to think of the mandrake. However, she had changed her mind after what she had been through in the big forest. With deep respect, she had lifted it out of its box that morning. It hadn’t writhed in discomfort. When she hung it around her neck, it didn’t seem as heavy as lead, or dead. But equally it hadn’t settled calmly, resting on her chest as if this was where it belonged. It had decided to wait and see. Anyway, this was how Saga had interpreted its silent message.

She thought that it ought to be autumn now as she looked at the age-old, ramshackle house. Beautiful dead leaves should have been whirling sadly around. Nature ought also to show signs of death and destruction. The jackdaws ought to have screamed and fought in the autumn wind in an attempt to stay near the house. The curtains ought to be waving in the ruined window openings. The door should be banging gloomily, revealing the eerie emptiness inside.

But it was summer. A warm and playful summer.

Perhaps this contrast was just as dreadful as a cold, wet afternoon at harvest time would be?

She stopped just inside the gate, listening and sensing what she could pick up.

Graastensholm seemed ... dumbfounded. Baffled.

Why?

She could also tell that Viljar was perplexed. He had probably expected that she would incur their wrath, be attacked just as he had been when he tried to walk in. That was pretty much what Viljar was thinking. He looked at her. She seemed so small and defenceless. The sight was so heart-wrenching that the urge to drink was tearing at him. He longed crazily for something that could soothe his nerves a little.

He straightened his back. This was how he had escaped into his dream world in recent years when things became too much for him. It mustn’t happen again.

If only he could have a tiny glass, then everything would be so much better!

Viljar took a firm grip on the rough edge of the milk platform, so as not to give in to his desperate need.

The loft ... She had to go up to the loft.

Saga gazed at the house walls. It was quite likely that the main staircase had collapsed so that she couldn’t get up there. No, surely, not in twelve years. Things didn’t move as fast as that, after all. No, it must still be there.

But what about the loft? It was the grey people’s own territory, and nobody had been allowed up there. Tula had tried and it was only through the interventions of the demons that her life was saved. Others had been torn to bits up there.

That was where Saga had to go now. She took the mandrake from around her neck and held it in her hand. The house, the entire farm, was absolutely quiet. She had reckoned on being attacked straight away, but it hadn’t happened.

Anxiety? Was this what Saga felt in this wait-and-see quietness? Or was it just her own fear she could feel?

No, she wasn’t scared. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t scared at all. She was just unsure how to proceed. She hadn’t been given any instructions. Could she just walk up to the loft and retrieve the treasure because she was chosen? What would happen to the grey people then? Her sole task was to neutralize them and liberate Graastensholm from them.

Anyway, she couldn’t go on standing here.

She began to walk quietly up the overgrown path towards the house. She was allowed to move unhindered until she came to the courtyard in front of the entrance. Here she bumped into an invisible wall.

It was a strange, soft, indeterminate wall. A reluctant, wobbly obstacle that offered resistance, but didn’t seem impenetrable.

Saga stopped and lifted one hand, with the palm turned towards the door. “Can you hear me, you grey dwarfs? I know who you are. I recognize all of you. Heike drew up a list of you all. Apart from the many creeping things that move along the earth, there were twenty-six sizeable creatures. Martha is now in safety and the four demons are no longer here. So there are twenty-one of you, and I admonish you all to return to the shadow world you came from. Graastensholm is no longer yours.”

She waited. Viljar was now so far away that he wasn’t able to hear her voice. She was all by herself, alone in trying to defeat the grey people.

The invisible wall pressed her back, determinedly but gently. They were feeling their way.

Saga shouted: “I suppose you’re wondering who I am? I’m Saga of the Ice People, chosen for this precise purpose. I want unfettered access to the loft, and I want more than that. I don’t want to see any of you on this farm from now on! Your time here has long passed. Those who want to be interred in consecrated earth, like Martha, can step forward and I’ll help you. The others must return to the other world and never come to Graastensholm again!”

Somewhere, one of them giggled loudly and arrogantly.

Saga was shocked. I can’t see them, she thought. I don’t have the ability to see them! So how am I supposed to fight them?

The very next moment, she realized that she was wrong. The rotten front door opened with an unpleasant, creaking sound, and a tall, lanky man stepped out onto the doorstep.

They are not behaving at all as they have done with other uninvited guests, she thought. This doesn’t tally with what Viljar said.

So what she had thought at first was true, after all. They couldn’t make her out. They had no idea how to treat her or what her intentions were.

Suddenly, a group of odd creatures appeared all over the steps and out on the grass. Saga gazed at them, trying to pretend that nothing strange was happening. Nevertheless, they made her feel extremely ill at ease. Some of them were quite pleasant to look at – she understood that these were elves. Others were ordinary people who had suffered tragic or violent deaths. Yet others were absolutely abhorrent in appearance, such as the big, swampy mare and some misshapen creatures she couldn’t even identify.

Finally, the tall man with the rope end spoke: “So you have come to drive us away, Saga! Clever girl!”

He laughed sarcastically, and many in the group began to laugh as well. Others merely gave her an ice-cold stare. But they were gathered – as if against a common enemy they didn’t quite understand.

Saga said quietly: “As you know, I have the power to get you out of here. So why not leave quietly?”

“You just try to remove us,” drawled the lanky man.

“It will be worse for you if you refuse to obey.”

The grey people were silent. They were waiting.

Saga reflected that Shira’s task hadn’t been easy. She had had to tackle everything alone, without any special, supernatural abilities. She had had to use her brain, her common sense, the know-how her life had given her and the purity that she possessed in her soul. Villemo had also been almost totally inexperienced and without any abilities to begin with.

Saga wasn’t gifted with special talents either. Her whole life had been one long wait for what was now about to happen, without her being aware of it. Just like Shira, Saga had merely been puzzled, struggling to find her way – until, all of a sudden, she faced the task of her life, much less prepared than Shira.

Saga hadn’t lived a particularly saintly life, no more than any other human being. She had been born with the talent to keep a certain distance from others. That was all. She had allowed herself to get angry with her fellow human beings, had hated her husband towards the end of her marriage. In short: she was a fairly ordinary human being with an ordinary human being’s weaknesses.

So she wasn’t supposed to seek out the clear source of life, as Shira had had to.

All she had to do was tidy up Graastensholm, although she was beginning to have a horrible premonition that it wasn’t going to be all that easy, after all. The macabre gathering before her had no intention of giving up without a struggle.

Viljar had spoken of horrific ghosts that mercilessly chased anyone who dared to trespass on their property.

So far, nothing had happened. So far, they were biding their time.

The invisible wall was still there, but it wasn’t solid. It trembled. The tall hanged man had the others under his command, but on his own he wasn’t strong enough to hold her back by means of the thought wall.

He needed the help of others for that. But somewhere, something was amiss.

They were afraid of her. They didn’t understand her. Perhaps they had a weakness, which they feared that she would discover. But that wasn’t all. They feared something else. But what?

Her glance moved swiftly over the flock. Some were colder and stronger than others. The hanged man, of course. And the elves, the wonderful, beautiful elves that were far more dangerous than death.

But there ...!

Two little girls were standing on the lawn not far from her. Saga had heard about them. She spoke to them directly.

“Wouldn’t you like to rest in consecrated ground? Be buried next to your mother and father?”

There was a stir on the steps. As she had relaxed her attention, some of the creatures threw themselves at her. She felt a pinch in her arm, a small bite of sharp teeth. Without so much as turning towards her attackers, she lifted the mandrake and held it up in front of them. They drew back their ears and pulled away from her, hissing.

The tall hanged man had come down. He was so close that she could feel the stench of decay from him. “Stupid girl! Those two little girls don’t want to be buried next to their mother and father. It was their parents who killed them!”

Saga raised the mandrake, ordering him to go away and leave the girls alone.

The girls had disappeared in the crowd. But the mandrake had agitated all of them. They forgot to keep up the wall and instead flung themselves at her. She felt their proximity like cobweb and icy coldness. The hanged man’s eyes were red with hatred.

Saga remembered how Vinga had kept them at bay with the mandrake on that moonlit night up in the mountains when they had been conjured up.

“Go away, you trolls!” she shouted.

They pulled back. Now that they no longer had their attention focused on their thought wall, the way was open for Saga, and she nimbly ran up the front steps and positioned herself with her back against the door.

With the mandrake still directed towards them, she groped for the door handle and opened it. She entered, turned the key in the lock and looked around.

The hall was in a sad state. It echoed from the closing of the door. The two young girls were there. They looked at her with a helpless, imploring expression on their faces. Their wan, blue faces shone in the semi-darkness and the wounds in their heads were gaping.

She crouched down to them. “Tell me quickly where your bones are interred. Then I’ll see to it that the place is blessed.”

One of the girls whispered in a peculiar, hollow voice: “We lived in Steinbröta. We lie underneath the dunghill.”

Saga said: “Thank you! You’ll receive help, in God’s name!”

The girls gave her a gentle smile. “Then we shan’t do you any harm.” Then they dissolved in front of her eyes.

“Two less,” she murmured. “So there are nineteen left, plus the tiny objects that crawl along the walls.”

She had hardly spoken those words when a long line of small, grey creatures came crawling in under the door. Most of them seemed quite harmless, but some, the indefinable ugly-looking ones, crept up over her shoes. A few caught hold of her lower leg with their sharp teeth. Nevertheless, it seemed strangely half-hearted, almost uneasy. She suppressed a cry of pain. “How dare you!” she said sternly. “When you know who I am? I have the power to obliterate you if you don’t leave voluntarily, do you understand?”

Did she have that power, really? Whether she did or not, the main thing was that they loosened their grip and became uneasy. Saga looked sharply at a horrible little creature with long tufts of hair sticking out everywhere on its body, which was more animal than human. “Go back to your own element! That goes for you too! Leave Graastensholm and never come back! Out! Off you go!”

Heike and the other cursed ones among the Ice People would probably have conjured them with suggestive, dramatic words or movements. But Saga wasn’t able to do anything like that. All she could do was say what came into her head, even if it sounded pointless.

To her great amazement, all the two creatures did was hiss, then they stepped back and disappeared up the wall and out through a broken windowpane.

Ah, she thought, so that’s the secret! Together they’re strong, but when they’re on their own ...

Once she had managed to get rid of those two temperamental little devils, everything seemed to run much more smoothly. Because all the while they seemed to have a certain respect for her, which prevented them from attacking her. She was convinced that all these creatures, the small ones and the big ones outside, could kill living beings. However, for some reason she was protected.

She was chosen.

She wasn’t scared of the creeping small fry, and that was an important part of her protection against them. She grabbed them, one after the other, and told them to go to blazes. Of course, what she said was ridiculous, but what else could she say? After all, she hadn’t been taught any of the Ice People’s conjurations. They were horrible to touch – slimy, fuzzy, without any substance, and they twisted and turned, snapping at her without being able to reach her. It was as if they didn’t dare to, didn’t really want to! She was especially stern in her tone towards the little pixies, because they were looked upon as good, kind creatures that were able to help people in their stables and barns. And what had they done? Joined the devils and ruined a whole farm!

Her words had an effect on them all. In a crawling stream, they glided out of the window and swarmed away, through the garden, out into the fields and up towards the forest. A long, grey, winding worm of the creatures of darkness. Saga stood in the window and watched them go, smiling harshly.

Then she turned around.

If she had thought that locks and keys could keep out the rest of the grey people, she was mistaken. A large part of what was left of the crowd was gathered at the foot of the stairs that led up to the top floors.

But not all. Some had stayed outside. She remembered what she had read – that Heike had been compelled to help several of them get inside because they didn’t have the ability to go through locked doors. She thought that she had at least two battles left.

The hanged man had clearly lost his patience with her. He came gliding across the floor. His penetrating, criminal eyes stared into hers. “You have the nerve to break up my flock, do you? You’ve already taken far too many. Don’t imagine that you’ll get more! You’re strong but you won’t break me that easily! This game must stop now!”

Before she had time to open her mouth and try to conjure him out of the door, they had all vanished. Everything around her was totally quiet.

Saga had no intention of wasting her time. As she walked briskly upstairs, she shouted in a loud voice: “You miserable devils! Return to your rotten caves and hiding places! I order you away from Graastensholm!”

A piercing staccato laughter was all she heard.

No, this wouldn’t do. She was no exorcist. She had to deal with them one at a time. But the problem was that she couldn’t see them!

When she was halfway up the stairs, they suddenly began to shake violently. She lost her footing and slipped down, losing her grip on the banister, which crumbled under her hands; she reached frantically for something else to hold onto. The entire house rumbled horribly, the walls creaked and the stairs above and below her collapsed, crashing down into the void below.

Saga shouted furiously into the air: “You should know that I have strong powers behind me!”

Then it stopped. A strange, guilty calm filled the place. But the staircase was still impossible to negotiate.

Saga had to make use of this pause. She crawled up the side of the stairs and finally managed to work her way onto the floor above.

Now the grey people mustered all their strength. A spirit glided right past her. It was completely flat; it seemed to float in the air, and wound itself, laughing, right across Saga’s face.

She stretched out the hand holding the mandrake so that it hit the ghost, and ordered it to disappear from Graastensholm forever.

A thin scream could be heard and the pale, hazy creature glided out of the window.

Saga thought: eighteen are left.

But they were really enraged. With furious howls, they threw themselves at her from behind, biting and trying to grab her. Saga’s fingers closed around an obnoxious, hairy arm, which struggled to break loose. As she touched him, he became visible to her, and she found herself staring right into the eyes of a murderer. After his death, his teeth had grown into long, sharp points. Where his nose had been there was only a black, gaping hole.

“Go back to your grave, spirit of the abyss!” she shouted.

Screaming furiously, he threw himself out of the window. Seventeen left, Saga thought. Seventeen more to eliminate.

Suddenly she discovered that she was hemmed in. In a circle of ice-cold creatures. She couldn’t see them but she could feel their strong influence seeping into all her senses.

“Go away from here,” they said gently. “Give up before it costs you your life. You can’t win anyway, you know that! Go away from here. Then we’ll give you all the riches and love in the world.”

A cloud of beauty and other wonderful things that awaited her engulfed her, confusing her.

The elves. There were four of them. She knew that. Two exceptionally beautiful women and two equally beautiful men. Seductive, treacherous.

It was as if she had only now caught sight of them. She still couldn’t see what they looked like. Nevertheless, before her mind’s eye she sensed where they were standing. She pushed the mandrake right up into their faces, one after the other, so swiftly that they didn’t have time to pull away, while she shouted that they should return to the forests and meadows for ever.

They hissed and were disappointed, but they left.

Saga wondered what she would have done without the mandrake. She also knew perfectly well that it wasn’t its power alone that was driving them away. It was also herself. She had felt an enormous strength, the power of the chosen, the power that Tarjei hadn’t had the time to feel. The power that, for a short time, had filled Villemo’s and Dominic’s lives, for precisely as long as they needed it in the struggle against the young and wild Ulvhedin. Once they had tamed him, they lost the power.

Saga certainly hadn’t reckoned that her power would be so enormous that the forces of darkness feared her. She had expected far more resistance. So had Viljar, who had warned her of the fatal danger. So far, she hadn’t met it. Everything had gone remarkably smoothly.

But the struggle wasn’t yet over.

Thirteen creatures left ...

She approached the stairs to the loft.

Nothing was left of Graastensholm’s former beauty and grandeur. Everything was dirty, ugly, vandalized and decaying. There were big holes in the floor, and the boards were so rotten that sometimes she trod right through them.

Now somebody had sat on her. Yes, this was really what happened. She was pressed down to the floor until she was almost throttled. There was a horrible, spongy feeling against her skin, and weren’t those claws that scraped on the floor? The mare, she thought. The eerie night creature that rode the sleeping, causing havoc in their dreams. An enormous, female creature, horrific and tough.

It was sapping Saga’s energy. She gasped for breath but the sticky mass covered her mouth. She was completely unable to move her hands.

Saga had the monster on her own, tête-a-tête, if you could use this expression when you lay completely flat underneath somebody else. She couldn’t really get the words out but she screamed nevertheless. It sounded as if she was shouting into a pillow, unclear and unintelligible since she had no more air in her lungs.

“Go away, you fat, sickening cadaver! Get back to your own, filthy dream world!”

There was a sound as if someone had punctured a balloon. Then the pressure fizzled out and a bitter series of curses from the hanged man revealed that he had also lost the mare.

Twelve were left.

Could they be outside? In the courtyard?

They would be creatures of folklore, who were confined to one place and unable to move by means of telepathy. They needed assistance.

How many were there? She hadn’t had time to count the creatures standing at the foot of the stairs. There couldn’t be many of them. Definitely not many ...

They were being more careful now. They didn’t dare to come too close until they could make a decisive, joint strike.

Then something unexpected occurred. A woman’s voice beside Saga whispered swiftly and anxiously and a pair of cold hands grabbed her.

“Save me,” the voice whispered. “Save me from this humiliating existence between life and death!”

Saga understood immediately: “I’ll help in the name of Jesus Christ. Where are you buried?”

“Outside, by the cemetery wall. In the graveyard of the condemned, right next to the big juniper bush.”

The hanged man was watching them like a hawk, but Saga managed to whisper to the woman: “Go there immediately! We’ll find you!”

She received a quick, ice-cold handshake as a thank you and then the woman was gone.

Eleven left, Saga thought, as the curses of the hanged man poured down over her.

She took one step on the stairs to the loft. A creature blocked her way. A creature with murderous intent. Suddenly, a pair of jaws caught hold of her wrist, trapping the hand that was holding the mandrake.

The Ice People’s most precious talisman fell onto the stair and was kicked away. Saga made a very swift calculation and decided that she must first neutralize the monster. But it had to be done quickly, before any of them succeeded in hiding the mandrake from her.

She said a silent prayer: “Let me have the inner light again.” She got it. She felt the proximity of the obnoxious creature, grabbed something that was slimy and stank of stagnant water, and shouted: “Back! Back to the lake of fire and brimstone you come from! And you are never to show yourself here again!”

Then she let go of the creature. It hissed furiously, pushing her back down the stairs with a final, great effort. Then it was gone.

Ten left.

Saga had fallen right next to the mandrake and she grabbed it, just as a booted foot tried to kick it away.

“Well, now!” she said calmly, getting to her feet with a sudden awareness. “Now it’s just you and me!”

The hanged man laughed arrogantly. “Don’t think you’ll get out of here alive!”

“I know there are several more of you outside. There must be nine, right? But let’s not worry about them. Now it’s about us two!”

He just gave a raw laugh.

She couldn’t sense him, didn’t know where he was. He was simply too strong. But she knew that he hated her with boundless strength. She had decimated his small army, and he couldn’t forgive her.

But his next words surprised her. She heard his voice from some distance away: “Just go upstairs, you sanctimonious whore! Go up and fetch your treasure! Then you and I can have a talk afterwards!”

She waited, sceptical. Would he take the secret in the loft away from her once she had found it?

Then the ghost said impatiently: “For heaven’s sake, go upstairs! Can’t you see that I’m letting you go? But don’t think that I’ll give up without a struggle!”

Saga couldn’t really make him out. She couldn’t understand what he was thinking, so she simply nodded and walked up the stairs. She looked around several times but couldn’t see anybody. He hadn’t followed her. She could feel that.

The loft was a fearful sight. It was large and deserted, and the roof had collapsed. Part of the tower had fallen down and had broken through the floor to the storey below. The floorboards creaked ominously as Saga walked over them. A thick layer of dust covered the floor and all the old objects, which were mostly rubbish. A once fine cupboard was so worm-eaten that it might collapse into dust at any time.

One spot was completely free of dust. It had been scattered from the floor during a furious struggle. Saga stared at the floor in the dim light coming from the tiny windows. She felt nauseous. What she was looking at could only be the miserable remains of a human being.

“A council official went inside and never came out again.”

She turned away. She took a deep breath so as not to lose consciousness.

The Ice People’s treasure. She had to search for that.

Saga stood still and closed her eyes.

A peculiar buzzing sound began in her head and spread through her whole body. Everything in her vibrated. Heike had often spoken about vibrations, and several members of the Ice People had felt like this up in the loft. Was it coming from that corner over there? She turned her head slowly from side to side and listened.

Yes, indeed! It came from over there! In the darkest corner ... At that very moment, Saga felt a cold sensation down her spine. Awareness had hit her hard and unmercifully.

She wasn't alone up there. That was why the hanged man had let out such raw and mocking laughter!

There was another creature. A big, shapeless creature that waited for her. Up here, away from the outside world.