“It’s a long story,” said Sol. “My old relative, Hanna, told me about the witches at Brosarps Backar and since I’m one of the few left of the true Ice People, I’ve longed to visit this place my whole life.”
“Hanna?” muttered the old woman. She was so wrapped up in her dark cloak and shawl that it was practically impossible to see her face. “Hanna? My paternal grandmother had heard of a Hanna of the Ice People who had great powers. Could it have been the same person, do you think?”
“It’s quite possible. Hanna taught me everything I know.”
“Well, then. How did you find your way here from Brosarp?” asked the other woman.
Sol smiled. “She who has only one desire in life will make sure it’s fulfilled. Well, no. An elderly couple helped me because they understood where I belonged. The bailiff’s soldiers will learn nothing from them.”
“Good,” said the woman.
Sol was so elated that she felt she was about to die. They offered her food, just a little bread and water, and she had the opportunity to get to know them better while they were eager to put questions to her, which Sol answered.
The old woman’s complexion was as smooth and fine as that of a young woman but her hair was white, and she had no teeth any more. The other woman was middle-aged and seemed to be in such poor health that Sol feared she might die at any moment. She was pale and emaciated and neither the shawls nor the fire seemed to be able to give her any warmth. Her hair was split and coarse and turning grey, and the skin on her face was beginning to sag. She was troubled by a persistent dry and rasping cough.
The man was a strange, silent type who was hard for Sol to understand. He was tall and lean. It was as if his limbs were only loosely attached to his body. His face was long and sad. His wrists bore deep scars that showed that he’d been the bailiff’s prisoner.
When Sol had finished telling them of her adventures, she was interested in hearing theirs. What she heard about were tales of miserable lives spent in constant fear and anxiety.
The moon had vanished over their heads. Now the blackness of the night had closed in on them – and it felt much darker outside of the cozy world of the small fire.
“Ah, there are only very few of us left,” sighed the old woman. “Of course there are, after the way the Church and the authorities have behaved. When they can’t find people like us, they just take anybody indiscriminately. They’re not particular about who they seize, my dear girl. Ordinary, nice women, who haven’t the faintest thing to do with witchcraft, are put in prison because of their neighbour’s vicious gossip. My heart goes out to these unfortunate ones. We, who are truly gifted with these powers that we love so much – in spite of everything – have to become ten times more cautious. Fifty years ago, there were quite a lot of us in Denmark. Now there is only a handful left – most of us are right here before you.”
‘That really isn’t many,’ thought Sol. ‘The two women were not likely to survive the winter and the man didn’t seem well either. He wouldn’t have a long life. And then what? What was left then? A world of emptiness!’
“I’m probably the only one in Norway,” said Sol. “Apart from my uncle, but he doesn’t count. He’ll only use his powers to heal.”
The woman looked at her with wise eyes.
“No, you’re not alone, my child. You have friends.”
Sol jumped to her feet. “Where? Who are they?”
“The Finnish lumberjacks have wandered from the east into Sweden. They work in the forests in the counties of Angermansland, Dalarna and Värmland. From there they’ve moved quietly westwards into the deepest forests of Solor in Norway. This is where you can find them. They take land for themselves by burning the forests and cultivating the land. There are many among these people who know much about the occult.”
Sol’s eyes glowed. “Then I must go and see them one day! Believe me, my life has been terribly lonely, even though I grew up in a loving family, who I love in return.”
The man nodded. “We understand your feeling of loneliness. We’ve suffered the same feeling.”
She looked at his wrists. “You’ve suffered at the hands of the bailiff’s men, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I languished for far too long in a dungeon. It was dreadful. You just can’t imagine what it’s like, my dear child. Take care they don’t catch you! Very often they ‘forget’ their prisoners for months on end. I’ve seen women taken to the stakes in clothes that were so rotten that they literally fell off their bodies.”
“How did you manage to escape?”
He smiled so that you could see his big horse’s teeth. “With the power of witchcraft. I imposed my will on the prison guard.”
“Terrific!” exclaimed Sol, filled with admiration.
“But it took time. When I’d left prison, and after having exerted my willpower to the full for several weeks, I was so exhausted that I slept for many days. I’ll never allow myself to be captured again.”
“I can well believe you. Oh, I’m just so happy in your company! I’ll stay here with you for a long time!”
“No,” said the youngest woman. She spoke Danish while the two others were clearly from Scania. “No,” she said, “my strongest power is to interpret other people’s fate. You must leave for Norway. Immediately! Somebody at home needs you very much!”
“Needs me? Who could that be?”
“I can’t tell. All I know is that somebody you like an awful lot is suffering and you’re the only one who can help.”
Sol had turned serious. “How can I help?”
“You must try by all possible means. I know that you won’t hesitate to do your utmost to help.”
“You certainly know a lot,” said Sol slowly, waving aside a moth that was about to commit suicide in the glow from the fire.
“Yes. I know a lot about you. A moment ago, I took your hand, remember? At that moment, I saw many things that would have made the bailiff turn pale and the executioner grab his axe. You’re truly special – and one of us. Go home to Norway, Sol! We would be overjoyed to have you here among us because you’ve breathed new life into us. But right now your place is with your family in Norway.”
Sol nodded eagerly. “Yes, if someone there is suffering I’ll leave – as soon as possible.”
“You say you love your family?” the old woman said suddenly. “I find this hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you know why you’re called the Ice People?”
“Because our remote valley is hidden beyond a glacier.”
“You’re wrong. You were called the ice People because you were born with ice in your hearts. You can never love anybody. You may give your body to a man – but he’ll never have your heart because you don’t have one. You are of the true kin and have no heart to give!”
‘That’s just not true,’ thought Sol. Was it? She was confused. She was fond of people, but as for loving people ... what was the truth of that? And what about Tengel? If he didn’t love Silje, then there was no such thing as love in this world! But then Tengel wasn’t really of the true kin. He was a mix of the best in people and an evil undercurrent of the worst carried in the blood of the Ice People.
“So what about me, then?” she asked herself, “and what does the word, love, mean to me?”
With a look of sadness, she glanced into the forest behind them. It was as if a cold gust of wind blew right across and into her, right into her soul.
The others were silent, gazing at her.
But she wouldn’t think about, wouldn’t speak about it.
Feverishly, she changed the subject.
“Can you please help me find some evening nightshade?”
This made them smile back at her, knowing why she wanted it.
The old woman said: “We’ll show you a place where it grows on the bank of the river
you passed. But for the time being, I’ll give you this. Of course, the berries are dry, but they still hold the power.”
Sol took them and thanked the old woman.
They were eager to know her powers and were impressed when she told them of her talents and the things she’d mastered. They, in turn, demonstrated some of their skills and all learned from each other as the hours passed swiftly by. Sol’s eagerness and joy were infectious and some of these qualities quickly showed in the faces of the others. She, who was an expert on healing herbs, gave the sick woman some of her supply, although she doubted that they would save her, but the woman was very grateful.
They were very interested in Sol’s mandrake. She could tell by the look in their eyes that they’d willingly have sold their souls to own it. But a mandrake can’t be acquired by paying the highest price in the normal way – it can only change hands for a lower price than was paid by the present owner. Finally, the price is so low that the owner can’t sell it – and so his soul belongs to the Devil. There were stories of mandrakes that had cost the last owner a grain of sand on the road – what was less in value than that? That buyer would never be able to sell the mandrake, and so he went straight to hell. Nobody knew what Sol’s mandrake was worth. What they knew, however, was that she’d never sell it.
The youngest of the women said: “Now Sol, you’ll have the chance to experience something that I believe is completely unknown to you. You’ve noticed the pot over the fire?”
“Yes. Are you preparing your evening meal?”
“No,” they laughed. “It’s something quite different.”
“It’s an intoxicating potion,” said the man. We tend to prepare and cook it just for fun. We use very secretive herbs and plants. Now let’s take the pot off the fire and place it between us, and then you’ll try something you’ve never experienced before.”
“Is it something special that I’m now to experience?”
“Yes,” said the sick woman. “Something quite out of the ordinary.”
“A flight to Blakulla?”
“No, not at all. A flight to Blakulla must be taken when you’re all alone and have plenty of time. This is a potion that will awaken the knowledge of life that slumbers within you. A knowledge that is hidden within every human being, which we’ve forgotten that we possess.”
Sol nodded eagerly. “Let’s bring the pot!”
The forest lay still and peaceful. The fire died out very quietly while the night was still warm. The four of them sat underneath a blanket while they inhaled the fumes from the pot.
Sol’s world began to swirl about her. Various visions floated by, short and disjointed so that she didn’t have time to see what they portrayed. Maybe it was because she was so happy to be together with people who understood her. Maybe that was why she was unable to collect her thoughts.
Suddenly the man removed the blanket and the pot. Sol understood that they’d all reached the necessary state of trance.
With a sigh, she sank back against the steep grassy slope that rose behind her and rested her head against the earth. The old woman had done likewise while the sick woman had simply slid backwards onto the grass and the man slumped where he sat.
Sol felt dizzy and confused and the deep sides of the ravine seemed to sway and swirl before her eyes. She closed her eyes.
Gradually all her senses steadied again and seemed to become clearer ...
The moon was shining, but it was another night in another era. She was lying on her knees, pulling at a woman who lay on the ground in front of her. It was cold and she must have been very young because her hands seemed so small against the grown-up woman. Then, as she raised her head, she heard a young girl say: “Your mum is dead. You must come with me.” This girl must be Silje, thought Sol, amazed. She looked so very young. She was almost a child herself.
The vision disappeared only to be replaced by another where she sat on somebody’s lap. It was the woman she’d just seen lying dead – her mother, Sunniva. She was ever so beautiful and her eyes were dark and sad. There was a man there as well, but he was less distinct.
Then the vision changed abruptly. A face filled her entire view – Hanna! Sol writhed and moaned. She wanted so much to speak with Hanna, but then she suddenly disappeared only to be replaced by other grotesque faces, retrieved from the unknown depths of Sol’s mind, who rose up and took her place.
The faces were all born from evil, loneliness and sorrow. Many among them were ugly, some were beautiful and others were blurred. Although Sol didn’t understand why, she knew that they all belonged to different generations.
Sol knew that she was looking back in time.
Hanna didn’t belong to her direct forefathers, yet it still made sense that Sol had seen her – after all, she’d known her all her life. The ones that she was seeing now were all dead, most likely her direct forefathers.
Sol breathed heavily. She was excited and curious and felt a sense of fear that was totally new to her.
As she fell deeper into her trance, she no longer knew whether her visions were dreams triggered by a potion and began to experience the images as real.
She could perceive some of their surroundings, but they were less clear to her than the people themselves. The surroundings were little more than impressions of the harsh fight for survival in the hostile Valley of the Ice People. Strong feelings of desperation, sorrow, despondency – and an intense yearning to be free.
So Tengel and Silje hadn’t been alone in their wish to leave the valley and live as a normal part of mankind.
Some of these nameless faces from times past were awfully ugly! There weren’t many of them – their unique features had only occurred now and then. On average, one in every generation, according to Tengel. There were also nice and kind people, but they glided past so quickly that it seemed this was what they were supposed to do and that she was only meant to see those of her forefathers that had been afflicted. Maybe that’s what she wanted to see.
Then a clear vision of an incredibly handsome man appeared. He was carrying something. Oh, thank goodness, how nice it was to look at someone attractive at last. But he also had the yellow eyes, the demonic expression and an evil grin that shocked Sol, and his appearance made her draw a deep breath.
This could have been the man for me, she thought. Maybe she would have fallen in love if she’d met a man like him?
She wasn’t sure. Maybe this was when it would dawn on her just how split she was. How difficult it was to possess empathy while inheriting evil from her evil ancestors. The handsome, fascinating man into whose eyes she’d just been looking might be one of the few lucky ones among her forefathers: he seemed to be pure evil. For the first time she understood the tragedy which the majority of her ancestors were forced to live with, Tengel maybe most of all. But he’d been strong enough to choose on which side he would stand. The same could be said of Hanna – but she had chosen the opposite side from Tengel.
Had Hanna been nothing but evil?
Just as the handsome man was floating out of view, Sol saw what it was he held in his hand. It was the cut-off head of a woman with sightless eyes that were wide open and staring. Sol knew that he was the one who had killed the woman.
Then more faces appeared. They were hideous figures from the past. A man and a woman stood before her, dressed in simple tunics and long stockings. Sol had never seen anything like this before. She shuddered, instinctively holding tightly onto the grass and moss with clenched hands.
Now something was growing out of the darkness. Something that all the other figures of the past pulled back from. Two piercing eyes, full of hatred, stared directly at Sol.
Sol felt that she was about to drown, as if she couldn’t take any more. She blinked to make the vision disappear but this didn’t help, of course, as the visions came from a place deep inside herself where they’d been stored from one ge
neration to the next. She was gasping for air and screamed as if something was strangling her.
The others heard her but were deep in their own trances and there was nothing they could do. The visions, once started, couldn’t be stopped.
They realised, however, that Sol would find the visions more difficult than normal people. They had also met their ancestors. They couldn’t communicate with them, but they drew courage and inspiration from their existence.
But Sol was of the Ice People. Every one of them who looked into the past was sure to suffer great pain!
If only she’d known how the brew would affect her, she might have refused to join the others. Or she might have given in to her curiosity.
She felt sick and completely paralysed. Instinctively she had pulled backwards, but the horrible creature came closer, and was suddenly right in front of her.
It could be nobody else but the evil spirit of the Ice People.
He was neither human nor beast. This must be Tengel, the Evil One. He might have been human at some point but this was difficult to see now. He was short and stocky and much shorter than Sol. Half hidden beneath a heavy brow, the treacherous eyes continued to stare ferociously, separated by a twisted beak-like nose. His mouth opened in a bestial grin that showed his short, pointed teeth. A broad cloak hid his short body, and Sol was grateful for that. All that protruded was a part of his one hand, and it was long and scrawny like a claw.
The worst part was the overpowering aura of evil that surrounded him. Sol didn’t doubt for a moment that this creature had sworn himself to Satan. No human could have been born like this – this creature was formed from the darkness of the underworld.
Sol was desperate to leave her trance-like state, to get away from this monster. What did he want of her? Why did he stare at her with such hatred in his eyes? Was there something he wanted to say?
Suddenly a distant memory came to her: She had seen him before! Once a long time ago. But where?
The Stepdaughter Page 12