C11 Chapter 11

Yes, Tengel the Evil had found a helper who would act as his tool!

That night, Ulvar had a very unpleasant dream. He was stuck in the most horrible bog you could ever imagine. The sticky mass clung to his body and his fingers so when he tried to lift them to get rid of the stuff, long, tough threads developed between the mud and his hands.

He let out a silent cry of horror, because behind him came a creature that was unspeakably horrible. It had no difficulty in moving through the mud, and it came closer to Ulvar from behind with frightening determination. Ulvar struggled like mad, but his arms and legs were moving slowly, his heart was beating as if it was about to explode, and ...

“Ulvar! Ulvar!”

Somebody was shaking him to wake him up.

He stared into Marco’s worried face.

“Why did you scream so terribly, Ulvar?”

For some reason, Ulvar was annoyed at Marco. “That’s none of your business,” he snarled. He could feel sweat trickling out everywhere and his bed was soaking wet.

Marco replied: “I just want to help you out of your nightmare.”

Ulvar got out of bed to change into some dry clothes. He turned his back on Marco; he didn’t want to talk to him.

Because now he knew intuitively who had been following him. It must have been Tengel the Evil! Perhaps he had wanted to say something important to Ulvar, and then that sanctimonious ...

He stopped abruptly with the sheet in his hand. Perhaps Tengel the Evil liked Ulvar? Perhaps the evil ancestor had chosen him to carry out important deeds for him? However, one thing was beyond any doubt: Tengel the Evil was a terrible ally. A monster beyond any description.

Ulvar could feel cold perspiration trickling down his spine, he couldn’t help shuddering violently and uncontrollably.

From that day onwards, Ulvar changed.

He had certainly been a handful before, and even dangerous in certain situations. But it was almost a case of “empty vessels making the most noise”.

Now he became ruthless. All the terrible characteristics of the stricken appeared. He had read enough of the Ice People’s history not to waste more time on the end of it. The fact that he missed the part about conjuring up the grey people was irrelevant, because Heike and Vinga hadn’t written down all the formulas or rituals, so he wouldn’t have been able to learn anything. He couldn’t get hold of the treasure either, he knew, because it wasn’t at Linden Avenue or in the vicinity. One day, he had happened to overhear that it was in a particular bank vault in town. Ulvar wasn’t supposed to hear that, but now he was everywhere with his ears almost popping out of his head. Ulvar was a specialist at eavesdropping by doors. That way, you got to know a lot of secrets. At the same time, he heard that they had instructed the bank not to allow anybody who looked like him to get close to the bank vault.

Oh, well, never mind. There was nothing he could do about that. Now he only had one objective: to serve his awesome master. The best way to do so was clearly by means of a flute.

Damn it! That wasn’t going to be easy!

Ulvar pondered an awful lot about it all. He looked despondently at all the willow twigs by the roadside, but it would soon be Christmas and trying to make a flute from a willow twig would be ridiculous. The bark would never loosen. Besides, he had never managed to make such an instrument produce more than two miserable tones. One when he held his finger over the hole and one without.

Hissy, toneless sounds, to be honest.

One morning, Viljar dropped in and asked Ulvar whether he had time to draw up the fishing net in the lake. They still had the right to fish there, from the time when they had also owned Elistrand, which was situated by the lake. Ulvar seemed under the weather and absentminded. He wanted most of all to tell Viljar to go to hell, but he had nothing else to do, so why not? Out on the lake, he would at least be allowed to think in peace.

A layer of miserable wet snow covered the ground and was melting on the fields. Ulvar trudged through the slush, leaving big muddy footprints. He was used to pulling the fishing nets out on his own. It was something he had done many times. Then they would always divide the catch between Linden Avenue and Malin’s house. Marco wasn’t in, he attended a different school now and had to leave home early in the morning.

The lake was calm and deserted; either the other fishing boats had already been there or they would turn up later. Ulvar pushed the boat out into the brash ice, which gave way softly.

It happened while he was drawing up the last net.

It was certainly a grey day and the clouds were heavy and low so that they were almost like a roof, but that didn’t explain what happened. Ulvar looked about nervously. He quickly pulled up the rest of the fishing net and sat down at the tiller.

Where had this dark mist come from? From the clouds? Or was it steam from the water?

Suddenly, the mist enveloped him. He couldn’t see anything at all now, though before he had been able to see the bank of the lake in all directions. It crept up, flung itself out of the water, lowering itself from above, enveloping him from all sides.

He fumbled for the oars, but he was so taken by surprise that he lost his grip and one oar swept over the boat and hit the gunwale. He quickly put the oars aside and sat there stiffly, with his hands folded between his knees.

And then, Ulvar knew that he had a passenger in the boat, though the mist was as thick as dusk. He could faintly see the outline of a person in the stern.

Ulvar felt horror creeping into his soul. Now he knew who was on board, and the only thing that was there was telepathy! What would the real Tengel the Evil be like?

He tried to hold his panic in check and took a firm grip of the gunwale on both sides to fight the urge to jump out and swim for his life, away from the boat. He shook uncontrollably; he felt nauseated and noticed warm, wet urine spreading between his thighs. Shocked little moans and groans came uninterruptedly from his lips; he was unable to control them.

There was a horrible animal smell in the stern. Although the mist was so dense and dark, Ulvar was able to sense a stinking dust that stood like a cloud around the uninvited passenger.

Then someone else’s thoughts and will entered Ulvar’s brain. Not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard, apart from the young man’s scared moans. Nevertheless, he received an order, just as clear and concise as if every word had been etched into him close by his ear. But there were no words, just thoughts: “You, my disciple, apprentice and slave! You are to obey my order fully and completely!”

Ulvar stuttered: “Y... y... yes.” He was very close to losing consciousness from fright and nausea.

Into his brain came the next piece of information: “My flute has been broken in pieces and so has a second flute that one of my disciples got hold of. Both were destroyed by my greatest enemy.”

Ulvar’s one thought was Shira, and his mind was fizzing threateningly. He obviously had to beware of such thoughts. He quickly suppressed the conclusion that Tula must be the disciple the horrible one was alluding to. But Tula had turned her back on her ancestor ...

Ulvar wouldn’t do that. He was too terrified to do so ...

A pleased sensation from the other being told the boy that it was registering every single nuance in his thoughts.

The inner voice went on: “However, you have a chance, even if it’s slim. Heaven help you if you spoil it! There’s a woman in town who owns an old flute. She doesn’t play it herself, but you must get that flute from her. It isn’t perfect for the purpose, but once you have it, you’ll receive instructions from me. It’s possible to alter the flute.”

Ulvar thought: “How am I to find her?”

“I’ll show you the way,” the voice in his brain replied, and all of a sudden, the mist lifted. The lake lay before him once more. There was nothing in the stern.

Ulvar sensed that he was losing consciousness and hurriedly lay down in the bottom of the boat so as not to fall overboard.

As darkness descended, he thought, I don’t want to take part in this. I don’t dare, I just don’t dare, he was too abominable.

But most of all, I daren’t say no!

When the memory had faded a little, Ulvar could laugh at how scared he had been. Of course he would help Tengel the Evil! After all, he was his tutor and guiding star!

What an honour! Nobody had been chosen before! Well, yes, Tula, but she had let down her great ancestor.

Tengel the Evil would get to see that he could trust dangerous Ulvar!

He soon received his instructions. In a sickeningly appalling dream, he was ordered to journey to the big city. His steps would be guided in the right direction, that was something he needn’t worry about. The order was to talk to a woman he would meet. He had to see to it that he would be invited to go back to the woman’s house.

The chance came pretty swiftly. He would be able to travel to Christiania and spend the night there, if necessary, without anybody discovering it. The others in the house were visiting friends during the holidays, and he had averted their half-hearted wish that he should join them by saying that he was sick. Something to do with his throat ...

They seemed rather relieved.

Only Marco gave him a thoughtful glance. Damn Marco, sometimes being a twin and being so mentally close to somebody else was a nuisance.

Darkness fell early now that it was winter. Ulvar strode through the main streets of Christiania, feeling marvellously free. The darkness hid him from curious looks, and besides, he was wearing a sheepskin coat with its collar turned up so he could have been anybody. He was squarely built, of course, with slightly bowed legs – caused by rickets because he had never been given breast milk – but apart from that, he caused no sensation. In any case, he never cared what people thought of him.

He had brought plenty of money with him because he intuitively felt that he might need it. The money wasn’t his, but Ulvar had decided that the tight-fisted Per could spend a bit on his poor foster-son.

Impulse led him down a side street and into a square. Ulvar didn’t know any of the street names in Christiania. However, he couldn’t help noticing that this was not such a nice part of town. The houses were small and miserable, and the inhabitants weren’t aristocrats. He had to step over drunken men who had fallen asleep. Occasionally, Ulvar would kick them in disgust. They’ll freeze to death tonight and they deserve it. He had never spared any noble thoughts on others.

Now he could feel that he was getting close to his objective. His body was shaking all over because of Tengel the Evil’s impatience.

Ulvar looked about. It was a cold evening, but quite a lot of people were still out and about. Trade in the square had ended but some stragglers were still standing by their booths, hoping not to have to return home with their goods ...

Was it that woman over there that Tengel the Evil wanted him to speak to? Over there on the square? Oh, for heaven’s sake, it was a ...

Yes, she was the one. Ulvar could sense it. A grunting impatience mingled with satisfaction pounded in his brain. Tengel’s thoughts ...

A whore? Was he to speak to a whore and ask permission to follow her home? Ulvar felt hot in the face. He observed her from the corner of his eye.

She wasn’t young. She had passed her prime many years ago, but she possessed a certain false elegance. A mature woman in a tall hat with many feathers and velvet ribbons and a full bosom, enhanced by a tight corset. Her eyes ...

As a matter of fact, she didn’t look too bad. Her hair, which fell in a chaotic mass of curls over her eyes, was chestnut. Ulvar could see that because she was standing under a gas lamp. Although her makeup was much too heavy, her features had some style and her eyes sparkled dark and lively.

An exciting thought struck him. Why not? In recent months, he had been very much preoccupied with the Ice People’s books and had hardly noticed that he had turned into a young man. Now and then he had satisfied himself, and that solved his immediate problem.

But a real woman?

Ulvar couldn’t care less what kind of a woman she was. She was sufficiently ample to incite his imagination. And he had plenty of money.

And his lord and master wanted this.

So he made a beeline for the woman and muttered: “Good evening.”

She turned around and looked at him in surprise: perhaps his hoarse voice had frightened her a bit? Ulvar stood in the shadows, so all she saw was a man dressed in a fur coat, who came up to her shoulder. He was well-dressed and rattling the money in his pocket. But wasn’t he a bit young?

“What sort of a child are you?” she said, seemingly enjoying herself. “Aren’t you still wet behind the ears?”

“I’m twenty and a half,” Ulvar lied. He was only seventeen and a half. “I’d thought of offering to accompany you home, because you never know what bastards might accost a beautiful woman.”

It was as if somebody else was speaking through him, because Ulvar wasn’t particular about the words he used: tact wasn’t one of his qualities.

She let out a horrible laugh. “You certainly know how to express yourself! But it will cost you a bit.”

“How much?” he asked in a business-like tone.

She mentioned a ridiculously low sum of money. The demand for her services had apparently plummeted over the years.

“I’ll give you double if you allow me to come home with you,” Ulvar said politely.

“Heavens! What sort of man are you, offering to pay me twice the amount I asked for?”

Ulvar had inadvertently taken a few steps forward and she yelled.

“No, yuck! I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole!”

“Not even if you know what I come with?”

She laughed nervously and pulled back. “Come with? What do you mean? You aren’t very tall so you probably haven’t got anything to offer.”

Ulvar had anticipated that question and was prepared. He quickly opened his fur coat and let her catch a glimpse.

“Cor, what a stick!” she said in her disgustingly vulgar manner. She was definitely impressed. “And already prepared! Come on, what are we waiting for?”

She took his arm and they trudged along the street.

“What happened to make you look the way you do?” she said in her hoarse voice, letting her hand glide lightly down his front – a bit low as if she wanted to make sure that what she had seen was real.

“Well, er,” Ulvar said jokingly. “I don’t really know. I’m used to looking like this and I think it’s all right.”

She shuddered but laughed. Never in her life had she seen a tool like this young man’s. Well used as she was, she had found it difficult to find anybody who could fulfil her needs, so to speak ...

If only he hadn’t been so ugly!

She was tingling with excitement! Usually she tended to carry out her duties without the least bit of emotion.

They came to a house in a run-down part of town. She unlocked the door and led him up a narrow staircase. There was a strong smell of cabbage soup in the house and the room smelt of cheap perfume.

She lit a kerosene lamp. Ulvar saw a room dressed in silk and plush and oriental tapestries. The bed, which also served as a sofa, was covered in a coarse blanket with a loud pattern.

“Cosy, isn’t it?” she said with her head tilted. She was already removing the hat pins, and she put the hat on a stand.

Ulvar took off his fur coat. The woman took off her clothes, layer by layer, and turned her back to him so that he could undo her corset.

Yuck, he thought, yuck. Anyway, now you’re going to feel a man. Right! Now Ulvar of the Ice People is to have his first woman and you bet it won’t be a game. You horrible old whore, now I’ll give you the ride of your life!

She turned the lamp down to its lowest and turned towards him. She began to take his clothes off with long, loving movements. Ulvar didn’t grasp that this was pure routine for her, he felt extremely excited. Then she lay down on the shabby sofa. Her skin shone white in the darkness and she was as fat as one of the sows at Linden Avenue.

Ulvar took her with a ferocity that made her moan and whimper. It was obvious that she didn’t find it unpleasant. He got to feel what it was like to rest in a woman’s arms, allowing himself to be carried away by an intoxicating great wave that swept away everything that was ugly, mundane and irrelevant. The woman roared with delight when she climaxed, something she hadn’t enjoyed for many years with other men. This grotesquely devilish youth inspired a sense of enjoyment tinged with a ticklish feeling of perversion. This much was needed to ignite this hardened old whore.

Afterwards, he strangled her with her velvet belt.

Then he searched the room for the flute.

Tengel the Evil’s spirit had left him, he could tell by the freedom he felt in his soul. Actually, the willpower of his ancestor had loosened its grip on him as soon as he arrived in the woman’s room. Now Ulvar was in place and knew his assignment. No further guidance was necessary.

Without bothering about the woman’s buxom nudity, her lolling tongue and her eyes staring out of her head at him, Ulvar searched the room thoroughly and methodically. Obviously, she hadn’t been very particular about her personal hygiene. Underneath the colourful surface lay dirty underwear, greasy old magazines and a thick layer of dust. If there had been more light in the room, Ulvar might have been alarmed by certain flat marks on her body. But he had no time to think about her now!

He stood in one corner, staring at a tall cupboard at the other side. Of course, he had searched inside it, but now he saw that on top of it there was a stringed instrument and an accordion. That was all he could see from where he stood. However, he was absolutely certain that would be where the flute lay. It was also the last possible place in the room, since he had searched it so thoroughly.

The instruments were obviously inherited because it didn’t look as if anybody had played them for at least ten years, judging by the dust and the loose strings.

At that very moment of triumph, just as he was about to take the few steps across the room to feel with his hands on top of the cupboard, the door opened and a man walked in. A big man, who filled the doorway.

For a second, Ulvar was paralysed. The man looked from him to the woman on the bed.

“Agda?” he said hoarsely. “Agda?”

Then he turned to Ulvar. “What the hell have you ...”

Ulvar didn’t hear what else the man said. He had only one thing on his mind. The flute! A flight without it was out of the question. He threw himself forward, flew over chairs and tables and clung to the front side of the cupboard, felt something long and narrow and wooden, groped for it ...

The man had also swung into action. With a roar, he grabbed the hanging Ulvar and squeezed him hard.

He yelled: “Damn murderer!”

Ulvar yelled in disappointment as he saw the flute roll away from his fingertips and fall behind the cupboard. The man lifted Ulvar while he screamed for help.

Other people came pouring in, and suddenly the room was full of living creatures. Ulvar had twisted himself free and scratched and bit the man who had grabbed him. His yellow eyes flashed and for a moment the man was shocked to see what he was holding in his arms. Then Ulvar dug out his knife and plunged and stabbed. All of a sudden, he was overpowered.

Somebody said: “Phew, what a little devil. Where did he come from?”

“I’ll exorcise you into the darkest hell!” yelled Ulvar.

He had read about Ulvhedin and hoped he could exorcise.

But Ulvar’s conjurations had no effect. In shame and humiliation, and without the flute, howling like a wind demon, he was carried by willing arms down the street.

Why, oh why wasn’t I allowed to learn something about wizardry? he thought in desperation. I should have seized the Ice People’s treasure, I should have conjured them all to dust. Tula was able to do that once with that old cow.

In fact, neither Ulvar nor Tula or any of the Ice People would have been capable of that. The four demons helped her there. Ulvar should have gleaned that from reading about the fate of the Ice People.

Ulvar knew that he could see creatures in cemeteries. He was familiar with several of the qualities he had been given as a stricken one. However, none of them was able to help him now – mostly because he began to panic and didn’t know what he was saying or doing.

This was an absolute disaster for such an outstanding wizard as Ulvar. The only thing he instinctively thought of doing was to use all the tricks of a thief that he could think of. He stabbed and plunged with the knife until it was twisted out of his hand; he spat terribly and roared strings of oaths. His sharp teeth bit several hands and arms and ears, he directed low kicks and fist blows at the men and pulled big tufts of hair from the women.

“Give him one,” a man shouted and somebody butted him. Ulvar didn’t know how many times he had been butted, he felt like a minced meat pie.

“He’s a devil, surely you can see that! Kill him!” a woman yelled.

At last, a couple of policemen appeared and saved him. “Stop! What’s going on here?”

The crowd gabbled to each other and to everybody, and the policemen tried to calm them down.

“Now then, no lynching here, please. We’ll take care of the lad.”

Someone mentioned the executioner. That sounded frightening, and Ulvar struggled to break loose from the many hands that held him.

“Well, no. I believe the death penalty in Norway is a thing of the past,” said one of the policemen. “But life imprisonment doesn’t sound too much for him.”

Ulvar flexed his muscles in furious protest as vengeful men held him to the ground.

“Tengel the Evil, come and help me now,” he thought, terrified and on the verge of madness.

But the ancestor was silent. Ulvar gave one of the policemen a very forceful kick. He had moved a bit too close, and the other policeman lifted his baton and dealt Ulvar a dizzying blow.

Just as Ulvar’s consciousness floated away, he noticed the deep-red glow of a huge fire and felt a heat so intense that it was almost unbearable. He heard a voice.

“Oh, God, Agda’s house is on fire! Somebody must have knocked the lamp over during the commotion in there.”

Ulvar thought mournfully about the flute as he slipped into darkness.

No wonder Tengel the Evil was silent. The valuable flute was already lost. He no longer had any use for Ulvar.