C13 Chapter 13

Young Gabriel was dreaming.

He dreamt that he was sitting in a car but neither Mum, Dad nor Peik were there. Nevertheless, he knew – as you often do in dreams without being able to see – that there were some people in the front seat.

He heard whispering voices and when he looked up, there were horrible faces squeezed close to each other outside the windows, looking in.

They scared him. They were ordinary human faces, but they seemed so frightening. Some of them were laughing at him, others looked threatening. Hands were tearing at the door handles.

It was a horrible dream, he wanted to get out of it but he couldn’t.

The voices ... he could detect voices.

“Now we have them! Killing three birds with one stone!”

“Break the window! Fetch a stone and break the windows!”

“No, torch it all: that will be the quickest solution!”

Somebody was sitting next to him in the back seat. A big, secure hand locked itself around his.

A deep voice, which he recognized as Ulvhedin’s, said: “Take it easy, Gabriel. Marco has his protectors.”

What was Marco doing in his dream?

All of a sudden, there was a violent uproar outside the car. Gabriel heard horrified screams from the people, they rushed in all directions and above the screams he heard barking and growling from big, furious dogs – or maybe wolves? Then the noise died away, echoing as if among the trees in a deserted forest, and everything was quiet. The calm voice said: “Now it’s over, Gabriel. Sleep now.”

Ulvhedin’s hand was still holding his in a firm grip. Gabriel sank down in the dream, which now glided into other environments. He felt calm and at ease once more.

Tengel the Evil was a lot shorter than she had expected, certainly much shorter than she was. He was crouched up on the landing, greyish and diffuse like a shadow but nevertheless alive. He had a slow, rhythmic breathing, and each time he breathed, waves of dust, stench and horrific vibrations steamed around his body. From his posture, he looked most of all like a bat with his stooping, flat head and the dusty-grey cape that fell over his shoulders and covered his body. His eyes were long slits of a dead, yellow colour in the grey face, and instead of a nose he had some kind of beak, which reached down over his open, grinning mouth. Exactly the way it was described in the Ice People’s chronicles.

The creature stared hatefully and wickedly at Ellen and Morahan, but didn’t move. It just sat there, waiting and seeing.

Ellen put her hand to her mouth and moaned.

Morahan asked her quietly and compassionately: “Are you feeling sick?”

“No, no, I can manage,” she whispered. But for a moment, everything went black. “Come, I need to walk down the stairs ...”

She was hardly able to speak. Morahan led her down the curve of the stairs where she collapsed with her hands on the banister. Her teeth were clattering and she was shaking violently.

“Why didn’t he attack me?” she whispered. “Why didn’t he attack you and me but all the others? Why not me since I’m one of the Ice People, whom he hates?”

Morahan looked puzzled, but he waited, sitting quite close to her on the step above her. He was just as shaken as she was, despite the fact that he had seen the monster several times. Finally, Ellen turned her head and looked at him. Her trembling lips were deathly pale.

“What on earth are we to do, Morahan?” she whispered with clattering teeth.

He just sighed helplessly in response. She clearly knew a lot more than he did about this monster.

Ellen sat there for quite a while, repeating as if to convince herself: “He doesn’t exist, he doesn’t exist ...”

Then she was silent.

“We must wait for Nataniel,” she said a moment later, followed by: “No, I won’t expose him to this. Not Nataniel. I must tackle this myself ...”

They had been sitting there for quite a while, speechless, when Ellen registered that something was moving in her consciousness. Something new and unexpected. At first, she was unable to grasp what it was.

“Let’s go downstairs, shall we?” Morahan asked her. “I’d like to hear more about what you all clearly know about this ... creature.”

Ellen didn’t reply immediately, but just nodded absentmindedly. Listened as if to herself. She sat crouched with her face hidden against her pulled-up knees. Her whole attitude of wait-and-see hinted that something had occurred to her, as if a thought was being shaped in her mind.

“Who lives in the building?” she asked breathlessly. “In that corridor, in particular?”

“I ... I don’t know,” replied Morahan. “After all, I only got here today. I don’t think there can be many. The block is new and people haven’t finished moving in. I would imagine that the policeman downstairs has a list of the inhabitants.”

“Fetch that list,” Ellen said resolutely. “I’m going to wait here. I must think.”

Morahan stood, paralysed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Ellen went on as if in her own thoughts: “While he was resting in the Postojna Grottos ... for hundreds of years ... some men came close to his hiding place. And all of them subsequently died. Mostly from the stinking, corroding vapours.”

“You heard it,” Morahan said without really fathoming what Ellen was talking about or who the monster was. “You can’t stay here, you’re young and have your life ahead of you ...”

Ellen interrupted him impatiently: “So he had been lying there for so long that the air in the grotto must have become polluted and toxic. Now he’s been out, I suppose the wind has spread the worst of it. I don’t believe that the clouds of dust are so poisonous anymore. Would you mind fetching that list for me?”

“But I can’t leave you here, I simply refuse to do so. Come with me downstairs!”

When she didn’t budge and didn’t seem to have heard him, he forced her to look at him. “What’s on your mind?”

He was very much surprised to see tears trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t know yet, Morahan. I believe that we – my ancestors – have turned the problem upside down. Please go now, I don’t want to interrupt my train of thoughts.”

Morahan began to walk downstairs, very hesitantly. “If anything happens, shout! Run for your life! No, I can’t ...”

“Go now,” she said as if in her sleep. “You’re disturbing me.”

He left. Ellen sat there as before, quickly drying her tears as they came trickling down her cheeks.

She knew she was onto something, but she still knew too little about it. Nevertheless, she had a strong suspicion that it was her ability to experience the agony of lonely, unhappy souls and the fact that this was why they sought her out that was now in the process of appearing once more. This wasn’t a thought she relished. It made her almost sick, but it was her duty to the entire Ice People to find out what happened, to find out more about Tengel the Evil.

Why on earth had he chosen to appear in such an impossible place as a block of flats? It seemed as if he had come here on purpose.

But Ellen didn’t want to let go of the crazy, absolutely absurd conclusion she had just reached: the part about a lonely, unhappy soul. This thought welled up in her with double force, almost as if somebody else wanted it to.

The very next moment, she became aware of an unfamiliar sound.

She stiffened and pulled herself up with her hands on the banister. She was terrified.

Something up there had fallen softly on the floor, and in strange, quiet jumps, it was moving – like a huge crow with tied legs shuffling its feet forward.

The sound stopped.

Ellen turned around. The unfathomable one was standing at the top of the stairs. Now surprisingly straight in the back and proud. Its cold eyes regarded her with arrogant disdain.

Rikard Brink was appalled. “You can’t leave Ellen alone with that monster,” he told Morahan. “We know how dangerous it is; don’t do it! If only Nataniel were here.”

Morahan shook his head. “It seems to have accepted not only me but her as well.”

“That’s impossible. She’s one of the Ice People, whom he absolutely detests.”

“I don’t know who the Ice People are,” said Morahan, “and I don’t know who he is either. All I know is that Ellen asked me to leave her alone because she wanted to think, and I couldn’t bring her down with me. Do you have such a list?”

“Yes, but ... hurry up again and bring her down. This won’t end well. If only I could join you, but he loathes me as well. The last time, I only narrowly escaped.”

Morahan left. Walking up the stairs was a great effort for him, but now he had reached the second floor.

He stopped abruptly by the turn to the next stair. The scene in front of him pulled all his blood to his heart so he almost dropped what he had in his hands.

Grey dust billowed from the creature up there as if he had been very active. He seemed to be indifferent to Morahan; his whole attention was focused on Ellen.

Ellen was standing naively on the stair and talking to the monster. Morahan couldn’t hear the words, but there was courage in her tearful voice, which touched him deeply. He dared not to move so as not to break the mood and expose her to danger. The only thing he could catch from her subdued voice was “Nataniel” and the pride in her voice as she pronounced his name. She must love this Nataniel, he thought with a sigh. He himself had never found anybody to love, and now he wouldn’t have the time to do so.

To Morahan’s horror, Ellen began to walk up the stair, still with tears trickling down her cheeks and her terrified gaze focused on the creature. Morahan thought that she seemed to be moving as if in a trance. He could do nothing but follow her; he was too scared to shout.

“Come here, Morahan,” Ellen said without turning her head.

He went up to her, watching the movements of the demonic creature. He had never been that close before, and the mere sight of “it” made him nauseous. Something so shocking simply couldn’t exist. Perhaps Morahan was already dead – and had clearly landed in the least desirable place ... The attack of sardonic humour seemed pretty much a failure.

When she took the list from him, without taking her eyes off the monster, he was absolutely horrified to hear her say: “Of course, I’ll try to help as best I can. I suppose you’re hungry after such a long time alone? Shall I try to fetch some food? Perhaps some bread?”

Her incredible naivety made Morahan almost hysterical. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream in horror.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” she said in the same childish voice as before, “we’ll go further down the stairs and study the list of the residents here. We’ll be back immediately.”

Ellen’s trembling hand took Morahan’s and they walked down without turning around. They knew that they could be attacked from behind at any moment.

When they were well out of sight, Morahan whispered: “Are you crazy? How could you expose yourself to such a risk? And then offer him some bread? It’s absolutely grotesque!”

She was slightly irritated but seemed almost worn out. “He has a mouth, doesn’t he? What did you want me to do? Throw raw meat at him? I think that would be very unwise.”

Then she said quietly: “Forgive me, Morahan. I didn’t want to snarl at you, I ... was just slightly off my balance. I know that I’m doing something vital now, and I’m too weak to accept it. Oh, if only Nataniel were here! Or rather not, after all.”

Morahan said quietly: “Shouldn’t we look at the list?”

“Yes, you’re right!”

They went over it together. In the margin, Rikard or somebody else had written short comments about each apartment.

An elderly couple lived at the very end of the corridor. Their name was Svingen. The woman was one of those who had been shocked; her husband never saw the monster. Behind the next door lived the Jepsens, a young, modern couple, who had left for Denmark some days before all this happened. Then there were two empty apartments. The farthest apartment on the opposite side of the corridor was empty; then followed a family in which the husband was a vicar. The vicar had tried to read something over the monster, but it had just hissed at him and ignored him. In the next apartment the Gustavsens lived. He was elderly, with a weak heart, and had died from the shock. Nearest the stairs was where the Malm family lived. They were into health foods but were clearly very harmless. No witches’ brews or anything of the sort.

Anyway, there was another piece of valuable information. From the lift, one of the people who lived farther up had seen the creature creeping along the wall to the Jepsens’ apartment, sliding its hands all over the entire door.

“The Jepsens are the young couple who have gone to Denmark.”

“Yes, here it says that the police have spoken with them on the telephone, but they don’t understand anything about it. Their circle of friends are mostly well-established artists of various kinds, all decent people. No, I can’t find any clue ...”

“Excuse me,” said Morahan. “But I just can’t stand having that mummy behind me even if we can’t see him now. Can we go downstairs to the fire escape and stand behind the door there instead?”

“Of course,” said Ellen, and followed Morahan down the stairs. He didn’t like her peculiar feebleness and the innocent expression in her eyes.

Rikard was there.

“Well? How are things?” he asked impatiently. “What’s happening? My nerves are on edge. I won’t allow you to go upstairs again. What on earth’s the matter with you, Ellen, you look so strange.”

In response to this long, hectic tirade, Ellen replied: “Do I? Well, I suppose I do because I’ve gazed into a human soul. If it’s possible to speak of a soul in this instance. Rikard, I think we’ve made a mistake, a mistake. We’ve turned the whole problem the wrong way around. I see that now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it yet. Give me a bit of time, and I’ll try to figure it out.”

“Yes, I know you’re able to establish contact with other souls, but in this instance, you must be very, very careful, Ellen! Remember: he once manipulated the strong Heike, and things very nearly went terribly wrong!”

Ellen, who was slightly irritated, said: “No, there’s none of that. I’ve simply discovered ... no, never mind.”

Rikard looked at her for a long while. “I’ll come with you up the back stairs. But only to the second floor. I’ll bring along my walkie-talkie. Oh, God, where’s Nataniel?”

Gabriel had only eaten half of his chocolate ration. He had got the idea into his head that the chocolate had gone off over the winter. That was why he slept more lightly than the other two. Marco lay bent over the wheel with his face on his arms. Tova lay crouched against his knee. But Gabriel didn’t see them.

Now he was dreaming again. It was a strange dream because he was still lying in a car. And, just like the first time, the car windows were filled with faces outside. Only this time he was really scared. Because what he saw were small creatures with evil facial features and long tusks. They were all over the place, the entire back window was so covered that Gabriel was afraid that it would break. A particularly horrible creature sat outside by the front window, making faces at him. They were pulling at the door handles. They were chatting away all the time. Like a flock of agitated birds, only much more shocking and unnatural.

Gabriel shouted: “Marco, help!” because he somehow knew that Marco was nearby. But he got no answer.

At that very moment, he heard a loud roar in the treetops like a violent tornado. Now we’re about to die, he thought, but he wasn’t too sure who “we” were. The car shook so much that it actually lifted itself slightly from the ground and he heard the little devils scream in terror as the hurricane tore them loose from the car, whirling them up in the air. They flew far away, scattered everywhere, and their piercing screams subsided.

The car stood still once again; everything was calm.

A soothing voice, which he recognized as Ulvhedin’s, said: “Look, we’ve got helpers everywhere.”

Linde-Lou was having a more difficult time farther down the road.

He had easily warded off the first attack by three men, primitive criminal types without any character. Linde-Lou knew perfectly well that what ordinary human beings saw of him was his dead persona. He slowly materialized himself for the three men.

They were approaching Nataniel with their knives drawn when all of a sudden, they saw something appear out of nowhere next to the sleeping man. At first, it was somewhat diffuse, then the contours became sharper – and then the details.

An appalling sight, which had once frightened the lives out of all evil human beings around Linde-Lou’s beloved Christa, Nataniel’s mother. Now the three wretches experienced the horror. They stopped in amazement, their knives fell to the ground and the three men, gasping in terror, fled away from the spot never to return.

But Linde-Lou couldn’t rest for long. Stronger powers than the living were launched against Nataniel.

Linde-Lou saw what no living eyes could see ...

They stood there out in a fallow field. A group of Spanish mercenaries. Their uniforms seemed to indicate that they were from the fifteenth-century and they were the tools of the Spanish Inquisition. Colourful warriors with halberds and tall helmets – and baggy breeches over their thin legs. Their bearded faces were stern and their eyes as cold as stone. Ghosts from a ruthless age when fanatics had their heyday and the most cynical soldiers were summoned to strike at heretics against the faith.

Once they had died honourable deaths, and they were absolutely convinced that they were precisely the ones who were to reach Heaven, because they had defended the only true faith, having tortured so many infidels. Instead they had been catapulted into the vast, empty atmosphere where those that couldn’t be placed languished. This was where Tengel the Evil had gathered and hired them for his armies, to have ready for his triumphant progress on earth.

Now they stood on a field in Gudbrandsdalen, looking totally out of place. However, there was nothing amiss with their cruelty. It showed in death as in life.

Linde-Lou was the only one who could see them. Nataniel would have seen them too – if he had been awake.

On the orders of their commander-in-chief, they moved closer with their halberds ready in their hands.

Linde-Lou knew that he couldn’t cope with this on his own. He implored Tengel the Good for help.

Tengel answered him immediately: “The storm demons are in the area. I’ll ask Tamlin to order them to come to your assistance.”

Typhoon’s storm demons appeared and joyfully swept away the pompous henchmen from the days of the Inquisition. Lifted from the earth in the most disgraceful manner, with legs sticking up in the air and flailing arms, they drifted away over the field until they no longer posed a threat to Nataniel and had to spend a long time picking themselves up again and regaining their equilibrium.

Once again, Linde-Lou sat down next to Nataniel, his beloved Christa’s son.