C11 Chapter 11

Helsingborg, Sweden, 3 May 1960.

The man who worked for the harbour authorities was taking his final stroll of the night. It was 4.30 in the morning.

Everything was quiet at the Denmark Quay. No ferries had docked. This was the quietest time of the day when even the night owls had gone to bed.

He stopped and rubbed his eyes. He could have sworn that ...

Far away among the houses by the water, where there was no wharf ...

He could have sworn he saw a shadow disappearing up between the houses. But there was no boat and no shore between the houses and the water. Only the tiny street that ended in a couple of small steps leading down to the Sound.

While the five chosen members of the Ice People continued their journey northwards, unnoticed by them the newspapers were reporting some baffling events.

Expressen, Stockholm, 5 May 1960:

“What’s going on in the Norwegian suburb of Vestsund? There’s a wall of silence around the new residential area of Vestsund outside Oslo. Journalists have been refused entry to a cordoned-off area containing four high-rise buildings. What is one to believe?”

Verdens Gang, Oslo, 5 May 1960:

“Soldiers are monitoring a cordoned-off area in Vestsund. The official explanation is that the four, new high-rise buildings, which are situated by themselves in the northwestern corner of the area, may collapse. Is that a plausible explanation? The residents have been evacuated. Most of them know nothing apart from the fact that everybody is talking about a terrible stench in the area. All those who lived in the building called ‘Kornblomsten’ have been isolated and are not accessible. There is talk of hospital and a death, but nothing can be confirmed.

“There are many theories. An epidemic, a time bomb, or a desperate person who has seized control of the block of flats. But where does the abominable stench come from?

“Among the more far-fetched theories is the landing of an unidentified flying object ...”

Dagbladet, Oslo, 6 May 1960:

“Mystery intensifies around Vestsund.

“The latest theory: a ghost in a tower block? No, let’s cling on to the normality and lack of imagination that marks a block of flats. Don’t frighten people out of their minds! The only ghost that can thrive here is that of loneliness.

“The few people in the know are keeping up a wall of silence and for the rest of us it’s nothing but conjectures. Epidemic, gas poisoning or explosives?

“It’s obvious that the military staff don’t go beyond the cordons and the police never approach the building. How long will this go on for?

“Rikard Brink, the police officer in charge there, has asked Dagbladet to put out a call for Nataniel Gard. He is on his way northwards through Norway. He is asked to get in touch with the police as he may be able to clarify the matter.”

Expressen, Stockholm, 7 May 1960:

“While people in the streets of Oslo are enjoying the spring, the area around Vestsund is deserted. Rumour has it that yesterday, a journalist entered the cordoned-off area and that an ambulance containing a covered stretcher later left the area, but nobody can confirm this.

“Who is this Nataniel Gard who is wanted by the police? Expressen has tried to find out more about him, but so far we have been unable to establish where he is from. He is not on the police lists. The Oslo Police know him, but they don’t want to say anything.”

Nataniel and the others knew nothing about all this. Of course, Targenor, once known as the Wanderer in the Darkness, who guarded Tengel the Evil, knew what was going on. But he and the other spirits didn’t believe that the five chosen ones should be disturbed. Their task was to take the clear water to the Valley of the Ice People and find the vessel of evil there. Now the spirits were beginning to grow anxious. Somebody should also stop Tengel the Evil, and who was to do that?

Nataniel. He was the only one who could stop the crazy ancestor.

Nevertheless, they hesitated. If only the five could reach the Valley of the Ice People with the bottles so that Shira could render the black water harmless, Tengel the Evil’s power would be crushed. This was certainly what they believed.

What would happen first? Who would arrive first?

For quite a while, their journey had gone smoothly and they began to relax a bit.

But between Hamar and Lillehammer, they came across a roadblock in a deserted area.

Marco, who was leading at the time, saw the cordon and turned around to stop the car. They conferred for a while.

“This can’t be the road authorities,” Marco said bluntly. “The road is completely blocked – not even the motorbike can make its way through.”

“Can’t we just crash our way through?”

“The road block is very solid. You’d damage the car.”

“Ellen, you have the map,” said Marco. “Are there any other roads?”

“Certainly not to the left. That’s Lake Mjøsa. Let me see!”

Gabriel looked longingly across the water. “We should have had a bridge by now.”

“It will come,” Marco said. “But we can’t wait twenty-five years for it.”

“Marco, now you’re frightening me,” said Tova. “Do you know everything about the future?”

“Of course not. I just saw the bridge here and knew that it would take quite a while before they could make up their minds to build one.”

Ellen, who hadn’t been listening, said: “If we drive back to the Mo River, there’s a road that divides later into several roads. We’ll have many options there.”

“Right. So we’ll drive back to Mo River!”

They turned around.

“What do they do about the other cars that come this way?” Gabriel wondered.

“Let them drive through,” said Nataniel. “They’re not entirely stupid.”

Taking another route cost them time, but they reached Lillehammer safely. Now it was beginning to get late.

Since they couldn’t make up their minds whether to continue or not, they went into a nice restaurant. They felt that they deserved some good food. They had some open sandwiches, which were supposed to last them till the following day because then they were to drive across the mountain known as Dovre, where they would be pretty unprotected. So it would be nice to have some bread as a snack in the car.

Ellen and Tova went to the ladies. It was such a blessing to have a wash and smarten themselves up. A long journey is always a strain on the eyes. They seem to sink deeper and to get more wrinkles both over and under the corners.

“I look terrible,” Ellen muttered. She wanted to look her best for Nataniel.

Tova had only a very matter-of-fact answer to that: “I always look awful.”

Ellen smiled. “They say it doesn’t matter how you look but where you look!” she said, quoting an old joke.

Tova chuckled.

They didn’t say any more until the place was empty. “We might be on a very dangerous journey,” said Tova, “but I’ve never been so happy in all my life!”

“Neither have I,” Ellen replied with a quiet smile, and they looked at one another in the mirror.

Then they went back to the dining room.

“This place looks peaceful,” said Nataniel. “We three men have decided that we should all spend the night in Lillehammer.”

“But it’s only six o’clock,” Tova protested.

“It’ll be seven before we’re finished here, and there’s no point in continuing our journey.”

“But it’ll still be light for quite some time!”

“Dear Tova, the decision’s been made. We’re safer here than out in the wilderness.”

“Wilderness? Oh, come on! Now you’re talking like a townie.”

“Well, yes, sorry. But here, with so many people around and with the police nearby, nobody will attack us.”

Tova gave in. She could see the logic in the argument. They allowed themselves plenty of time at the dinner table now that they’d decided to stay in Lillehammer. Tova felt invigorated; she was talking and chatting away. She could be really charming when she wanted to – or rather, when she forgot her appearance and her aggression, which arose from her fear of being hurt because of her appearance.

Being Tova wasn’t easy.

Ellen was happy, and the wine they were drinking made her loosen up a bit. She tended to find it difficult to relax in Nataniel’s company. She knew that if only they had been allowed to be natural together, she would forget everything around her and tell him all her pent-up thoughts and emotions.

Both Ellen and Tova had difficult relationships with the men they loved more than anything else in the world.

Marco and Nataniel were enjoying being their escorts. Tova wondered whether Marco had ever been with girls as he was now. With mortal girls. She had no idea what he did when he was in “the other place”. She didn’t want to know either.

Young Gabriel was struggling to keep awake. His dark, wispy hair, which his mother had combed so carefully that same morning, now looked a mess. Gabriel thought that it was all so exciting and that they had tackled everything brilliantly so far. He had been in a state of excitement for several days now: he hadn’t slept well the night before and had got up at half past four. In order not to be late for the flight.

There had been no plane trip for him. Never mind, this wasn’t bad. He was with the grown-ups and had an important task. He had already made an entry in his diary: “Rissole with peas and carrots. Strawberry ice-cream.” When he saw that he had written right underneath: “Threatening road block with a tractor and big poles. Had to drive along bad roads instead,” he thought that it did look a bit stupid. But he had rewritten things so many times that he just let it be.

Finally, they got up and paid. They asked for rooms in the hotel next to the restaurant. They had been sitting so long at the table that Ellen went out to the ladies’ to freshen up – etcetera.

As she stood in front of the mirror, putting the final touches to her make-up, she saw a woman come in. A woman in her late thirties, nicely dressed, but with harsh features and cold eyes.

Ellen was very much on guard now and saw something bad in every single person. She watched the woman in the mirror, because she had an unpleasant gut feeling.

And quite right: Ellen heard the sound of a flick-knife being unfolded. The very next second, the point of the knife prodded her in her back.

“Give me what you have or you’re dead!”

My word, how theatrical! But Ellen couldn’t deny that she was frightened. She acted stupid and said that she had only a couple of coins in her bag.

“It’s not money I want. You know what it is!”

“Do you?” Ellen answered quickly, because from what she knew from Tova’s account, none of the henchmen had been told.

The woman’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second. So she didn’t know. “Get-a-move-on!”

“I see,” Ellen said feverishly. What could she give her instead of the bottle?

She couldn’t think of anything.

Ellen’s strong point was definitely not wizardry. She had inherited only one supernatural property, which was to pick up the agony of dead souls, and what was taking place here was very mundane and real.

The seconds passed but her mind was at a standstill.

“Well?” said the woman, pressing the point of the knife so hard into Ellen’s skin that it hurt.

Could she turn around quickly and slap her? No, the woman had all the advantages on her side.

Then the door opened and Tova entered. She had seen the woman walk in and thought that Ellen had been away for a long time.

So Tova was prepared and she knew her tricks! She could call forth illusions.

The woman saw something walk in through the door: an abominable monster, called forth by Tova’s most macabre fantasy.

Ellen saw it as well and even she paled. Tova had produced something disgusting and abominable, a half-decaying, stinking corpse with six spidery-thin arms and long claws, which threatened to tear the woman into tiny bits. The poor lady screamed and passed out on the floor.

Tova was herself again. She and Ellen left the woman lying there and hurried out of the room.

“Thank you, Tova. I’ll try to help you in return,” Ellen said.

Tova giggled. “You can talk nicely about me to Marco. So that he sees me.”

Ellen replied kindly: “But he already does!”

“Don’t pull the wool over my eyes,” said Tova, and then they were back at the table.

Now they had clearly been found out, which meant that they couldn’t possibly stay overnight in Lillehammer. They quickly got into the car and on the motorbike – they had kept a keen eye on them all the time – and set out to drive on northwards.

This was the evening of 6 May and they still knew nothing about what the newspapers were reporting about Vestsund.

They had only one thing in mind, and they tried more or less subconsciously to erase all other events in the world from their thoughts.

It was a shame that they didn’t see the headlines, because if they had, they might have spared some lives.

But it’s difficult to know, and easy to be wise after the event.

But somebody else was reading the newspapers, and that was Morahan.

He had nothing else to do while he stayed in his hotel room, resting.

Actually, he was bored stiff and miserable because he didn’t know how to pass the time.

At first, he had bought English newspapers, but then he really felt an urge to try his hand at Norwegian. He had discovered that most Norwegians loved to air their English and they were quite shamefaced when they discovered that he could speak Norwegian. They didn’t expect it of foreigners, because how else would they get to show off what they could do? The exceptions were those who found it fascinating when someone tried to say some words in broken Norwegian. Their unrestrained giggles bothered Morahan even more.

His Norwegian was far from perfect. His Liverpudlian accent came through strongly and he hadn’t mastered the more difficult words and idiomatic expressions. Nor the grammar with common endings and neuter endings in nouns. The Norwegians he had to communicate with loved to point out when he made mistakes. They thought that they were doing him a service. Instead, they took away the small amount of courage he had.

But he could read his newspaper in peace and quiet.

At first, he spelt his way through the headlines and soon gathered that Norwegian isn’t spelt the way it sounds.

This was a peculiar story. Might he have translated it wrong? “Strange things are going on in Vestsund. The latest theory: a ghost in a high-rise building?”

Were people in Norway superstitious? He worked his way through the text.

This was nothing but nonsense. Morahan pushed the newspaper away.

But the words in the horror article were gnawing at his thoughts. He was curious.

After a while, he went down and bought a couple of other newspapers. He wanted to see whether they matched the first article he had read.

The other newspaper also wrote about the matter. Several imaginative theories were aired. Unidentified flying objects ... Gas poisoning ... They said there was a horrible smell in the area.

This was absolutely crazy!

Morahan thought for a while.

He had a map of Oslo, which showed where Vestsund was. It wasn’t too far away.

Obviously, nobody had dared to enter that tower block. But what did he have to lose? A last, exciting adventure to include in his life.

Half an hour later, Ian Morahan was on his way in a taxi to Vestsund. He wanted to take a closer look at what was going on there.

He was relieved to be out and about from his boring hotel room. The taxi driver was chatty and told him about Vestsund. In English, of course, as a friendly gesture towards Morahan.

“Lots of people out there. They’re flooding in because they want to see something. But nobody is allowed in. It’s out of the question!”

“Why not?”

“People have died inside! They say one was a journalist. And a few others, who got too close!”

“Too close ... to the unknown?”

“Exactly! Nobody really knows what it is. Well, yes, those inside the cordoned-off area do, but there aren’t many of them. They say they’re tough guys!”

Morahan looked out of the car window. He wasn’t tough, but wanted to go inside anyway. Even if it was the last thing he did. Which it probably would be.

All five thought that it was too cold to spend the night outside, but they didn’t find any open hotels along their route. They were beginning to get slightly desperate when at dusk they caught sight of a farmer walking about on a campsite dotted with small huts. They stopped immediately and walked over to him. Would it be possible to rent some huts for the night?

The man scratched his head. Ah, well, he hadn’t yet opened for the season. He was getting everything ready and in order ...

“All we need is a roof over our heads,” said Nataniel. “We’ve brought our sleeping bags.”

The farmer’s expression showed that he realized he could earn some extra cash. Well, yes, surely that could be fixed. If they didn’t mind the primitive huts over their heads, then ... No, no, there was no hotel or anything like that up ahead; they would have to drive for several hours to find that, he assured Nataniel.

So the girls shared a hut. Marco, who was responsible for Gabriel, shared one with him, and Nataniel got a hut all to himself.

This time they took no chances. The car and the motorbike were locked in a garage the farmer used for his road machines – when it came to earning money, he showed great initiative. He also had a small kiosk, to which he gave them the key in case they wanted some acid drops or chewing gum. They could leave the money in the bowl in the drawer. He lived some distance away.

They were extremely careful to check that no strangers had noticed their arrival at the campsite. There was hardly any traffic so late at night. The farmer was instructed not to tell anybody that they were there. Nataniel made it sound as if it would be to his own advantage. Not legal to have campers at this time of year ...

Then the farmer drove home and the five were alone.

Gabriel was almost asleep before his head hit his pillow. His diary was left open on the night table. Marco cast a quick glance at it: “They’re hard on our heels all the time, but each time we get away. They wanted to grab Ellen in Lillehammer, but Tova frightened her so much that she fainted.”

Marco smiled to himself. Oh, dear. Pronouns and prepositions could trip up even experienced writers!

Nataniel had problems calming down. He walked out of the hut and stood looking across the Rv50 road to Trondheim, which went right past the site. Everything was calm; it was almost midnight.

Ellen appeared outside. “Can’t you fall asleep either?” she said softly. “Tova has switched off the light but I’ve too much on my mind.”

“Do you and Tova get along?”

“She’s all right.”

“Yes, if only she didn’t do everything to deny it.”

They smiled. Right now, they found it difficult to talk to one another. They knew each other’s feelings and yet they felt insecure towards each other. Love is delicate, it can break far too easily. I had Nataniel’s love last year, Ellen thought, but do I have it now?

His thoughts were moving in the same direction: she’s so charming, so vivacious. She knows that we can never get close to one another. It would be unnatural if she didn’t look for another partner in life.

“Should we walk down to the river?” he asked. “So that we can’t be seen from the road?”

Ellen smiled: “The Gudbrandsdalslågen this time. Last time, it was the Numedalslågen.”

“We’ll take one river at a time. But this river really roars. We won’t hear a word and we can’t shout either in case we attract undesirable people. Come on, let’s go into my hut!”

Ellen visibly hesitated.

“There’s no danger,” he said. “I know my place.”

Thank you very much, Ellen thought, but do I know mine? But she followed him without a word.

His hut was just as barren as hers. The only thing that showed a bit of life was the sleeping bag in the empty bunk and Nataniel’s half-emptied rucksack in the corner.

The room had one chair. Nataniel offered it to Ellen while he sat on the bunk. It was rather inconvenient because the upper bunk was in the way.

They sat quietly for a bit in the semi-darkness. Ellen bit her lip; she didn’t really know what they should talk about. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but they were words that ought to remain unspoken.

Eventually he stood up abruptly; whether it was the silence or his uncomfortable position that bothered him, she didn’t know. He looked out at the river.

He seemed taller than she remembered from their previous meetings, but it may have been because he had grown so skinny. She took a breath as if to say something, but immediately regretted it. Her heart was pounding as if it would tear her to pieces. It was one thing to be alone with him among all the others in the Demon’s Mountain, in a dream world without obligations, but quite another being alone with him in a tiny hut.

He breathed out, walked over to the table and stood there, looking down at her. She was shocked at how tired his eyes seemed. As if he hadn’t slept since they had met in the Demon’s Mountain.

“You shouldn’t have come with us,” he said quickly. “It’s much too dangerous a trip. And it’s just as dangerous for us to meet.”

“But Nataniel, it’s so pointless being separated from you. This is no life! We might just as well be together, and you might need me. Our ancestors have chosen you and me, and it’s probably right.”

“I do need you, desperately! I can’t live without ...”

He stopped and sat down again on the bunk. “How have you been all these months?”

“Thank you for the lovely gifts you sent me, Nataniel. My life would have been empty without them. I suppose I’ve been all right, on the surface. I now have a flat of my own, you know, and every piece of furniture I’ve bought for it, every object I’ve chosen has been what I think you would like. I’ve used only bright colours, white, yellow and green, because I know you love the light ... Forgive me, Nataniel, but you fill my whole future!”

He stretched out his hand towards her but pulled it back immediately.

“I want to see that flat, Ellen,” he said gently. “I’ve missed you: am I allowed to tell you that? I’ve missed you desperately, I’ve thought of you night and day. We belong to each other, I need you not just as a friend. I’ve felt you close to me, caressed you in my thoughts, I know what your skin feels like under my hands ...”

“I’ve also thought of you ... in that way,” Ellen whispered breathlessly. Right now, she would have given anything to be allowed to touch him. “All my attempts to forget you have failed.”

He hid his face in his hands. “Oh, Ellen, it’s so sad only being able to speak about love, and never experiencing it. This isn’t the first time this delicate topic has been spoken of.”

“It all becomes pretty anaemic,” said Ellen with a quiet smile, sitting with her hands shyly in her lap.

“Bloodless and toothless and colourless.” He smiled back. “And I, who have so much to ... Ellen, I can assure you that there’s nothing anaemic in my longing for you! Oh, gosh, it sounds so stupid just sitting quietly and saying it. Like some ridiculous old opera libretto!”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said urgently. “We just know it.”

“Yes, you’re right. Yes, but I want to be with you, go out with you, just like other people can, go to the cinema with you, come back to our house, where you are, sleep with my arm around you, see our children grow up, I want to grow old with you ... I want to be allowed to love you, Ellen! Only now it’s impossible. Because now it’s too late. The time has struck.”

“You mean when your premonition strikes? That if we ... No, now I can only think of trivial words but if we ... fall into one another’s arms, this means death to one of us? The way you saw it the first time we met?”

“Yes, now that moment is very, very close.”

“And Tengel the Evil has something to do with it, does he?”

“Yes, I’ve always known that.”

“And our only salvation is to stay away from one another?”

“Yes, if one can break one’s fate. But come on. I’ll see you back because I don’t think I can take very much more.”

“Neither can I,” Ellen said. “No, Nataniel, don’t hold my hand! Stay at least two metres away from me: I feel toxic!”

Without saying any more, their bodies shaking with an unbearable fever, they hurried to the other hut. Nataniel said a brief goodnight and disappeared.

Ellen banged her fist on the parapet of the veranda. She sobbed desperately: “What hellish talk! When all we want is to be allowed to be together. To hell, oh, TO HELL WITH TENGEL THE EVIL!”