Читать книгу The Ice People 17 - The Garden of Death - Margit Sandemo - Страница 7

Chapter 2

In the early morning, Irovar and Shira were on their way towards land in their small fishing vessel. The Kara Sea was smooth as a mirror; only slow, lazy swells rolled by the shore. Every time the oars were dipped in the water, a snake-like pattern appeared on the surface. Otherwise all was calm.

“Yesterday, our guest fell asleep quickly,” she said with a slow smile. “The one who has so much he wants to talk about.”

“That is what happens when the body has been tense for a long time,” Irovar explained. “Do you like him?”

There was a slight expression of unease in her glance. “Yes. Does he resemble my father?”

“Not quite. Your father had hair like gold and was probably also slightly more light-hearted by nature. Apart from that, you can tell that they’re related.”

“He seems a nice, reliable person.”

“I think so too.”

Shira hesitated once more. The fine, delicate hand took hold of the fishing tackle that made it look red, grubby and coarse. “We resemble each other somehow. We’re protected ...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know. I believe that something protects this man. Just as it does me. Although I don’t know what it is. Grandpa, why am I not just like all the others? I’d like to know why!”

Irovar, who had only been listening with half an ear, woke up.

“Rubbish,” he said, his voice trembling. “Of course, you’re just like everybody else!”

“No, I’m not. My friends are getting married, and I’m walking around all by myself. I know that a boy and girl can like each other more – in a different way – than I like my friends. But I feel nothing but friendship; besides, nobody loves me boundlessly and passionately.”

“You’re still so young,” Irovar muttered, trying to sound convincing. “Your time will come. Just you wait and see!” He hoped she did not notice how muffled his voice sounded. They had reached land and he was trying to act as if to signal that he sounded tense because he was drawing the boat up on land. Shira jumped ashore.

“I don’t think my time will come,” she said. She took the tackle and he the fish; she walked so lightly beside him, with soft, gliding steps as if her feet hardly touched the ground. “Somehow, I’ve always been an outsider. When we were small, the other children sometimes seemed afraid of me. Grandpa, they would say that I was inhuman. Just because I was never hurt when we played games. I played more wildly than all the others, just to show that I could also get hurt.”

“And you could, believe me,” Irovar muttered. “Nobody had so many gashes on their knees and elbows as you!”

“But no serious damage.” Shira lighted up in a smile. “But you’re wrong. I can be hurt. Like when I jumped off the rock over there just so that they would accept me as one of them. While I soared through the air, I saw a shadow standing below me that seemed to wait for me. But when I landed, it was gone.”

Irovar turned pale. “Are you crazy? Don’t you understand that was Shama? After all, you have Taran-gai’s blood in your veins and he’s your god of death. Surely you know that!”

“Of course,” she said calmly because, like all Taran-gais, she found the thought of such mythic beings quite natural. “It proves that things can turn just as bad for me as for everybody else. Incidentally, I’ve seen him again since then.”

Irovar shook her. “When? When? Shira?”

“When I fell overboard and very nearly drowned. A big, black shadow glided over the water. It was like a giant human being. But then it disappeared.”

Her grandfather closed his eyes. Shira looked up, surprised to see the tense trembling about his mouth.

“They were right then,” he whispered. “They were right then! Even if I tried to trick myself into believing that it was nothing but a dream.”

“Who was right?” Shira asked. The other fishermen had stopped; they were gazing at them at a distance. The dew-wet grass steamed in the morning heat, and the camp was about to awake. Out of Irovar’s tent came a sleep-drugged Daniel, wondering where his hosts were. He walked in their direction and Irovar nodded to him before he answered Shira. That is to say, he seemed almost to be talking to himself.

“They said that Shama would be out looking for you. And then you challenge him! By jumping off a rock!”

“Who are ‘they’, Grandpa? Don’t look at me so strangely. Wake up! Who am I, in fact?”

Irovar pulled himself together. “Who are you? You’re my granddaughter. Your father was a foreigner. And your mother was probably not the sweetest person in the world, but she passed away the night you were born. Peace be with her! That’s all!”

“No, that’s not all! Now and then, a great anxiety seizes me, which I can’t explain. You know more than you want to admit, Grandpa!”

He sighed and started walking again. Daniel, who had taken a lot of the heavy tackle for them, walked next to them, listening discreetly.

Irovar was a lover of nature, and although he was very wise and worldly, his words were simple, but even so, Daniel did not understand everything, that was being said. So in his mind he reformulated the words, that Irovar and the others spoke into meaningful sentences – in the slightly academic style, that his father, Dan, had taught him in Uppsala. Everything that was later spoken by these foreign tribes in this account was first reconstructed in Daniel’s mind. It would be impossible to write everything precisely as they said it, partly because it would only be fractions of sentences, and partly because their use of language was so distant from our own that it would be a great effort to read. Their language was packed with allusions. They explained abstract ideas in terms of objects in nature, and you could say that their speech was a strange mixture of imagery and short phrases. Daniel, who was so proud that he had learned the language of the Samoyeds in advance, had to change his opinion. Vendel had not perhaps learned so much during his stay because he had mostly spoken Russian with Irovar.

Daniel soon noticed that Irovar and his granddaughter, Shira, were the best educated and the most cultivated people in the village. Of course, she had learned a lot from her grandfather, who was undoubtedly a wise and cunning old man. During their short conversation the evening before, Daniel had gained even more respect for him, and while they were trudging up from the sea in the early morning light, it dawned on him that he was waiting for the old man’s reply. He glanced quickly at Shira, but she was slightly more ethereal; he did not get quite the same feeling of rapport that he knew existed between him and the old man.

At last, Irovar had finished thinking and sighed once more.

“Yes, I know more,” he said. “I’m the only one who knows more, and yet even I don’t know enough! It’s still too early to say that I’ll tell you more, but come to me, Shira, when you sense that the time is right!”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I don’t think it will happen until you move to Taran-gai,” he continued. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to go there. Honestly! It could be that the time is now! I think that Daniel’s arrival has something to do with it, although I’m not sure I know in what way. I have two pieces of advice to give you. You’ll be led onto the path that you’ll walk. Don’t offer resistance, Shira! Second, don’t walk in the path of Shama any more! He’ll do everything to get hold of you, and you’ve already escaped him twice. He probably won’t give you any more chances.”

Shira bit her lip, pondering intently. “My course of life has been charted already then?”

“Only up to a point. After that, everything depends on your courage and on how much wisdom and vigilance you show. And on how I’ve brought you up – whether your thoughts have become as pure and good as I’ve tried to make them. If I’ve failed, there will be no salvation, either for you or for the people to whom you are united by bonds of blood.”

Shira sighed. “I wish you would tell me everything now. I’m groping in the dark.”

Irovar said that he would have to wait until they were sure. Otherwise she might try to influence developments too early and make terrible mistakes.

“Excuse me for breaking into your conversation,” Daniel said cautiously. “Vendel mentioned Shama. Can the two of you tell me more about him?”

“Yes, I can,” Irovar said, as he began to clean the fish. The two others helped him while he spoke. “You must remember that this is something, that concerns only the Taran-gais. It has nothing to do with our creed, and I can only repeat what my wife, Tun-sij, said. As you know, the Taran-gais come from the east and are probably of Mongolian origin. In ancient Oriental religions, they reckoned with five elements instead of the four, that the rest of us are familiar with. It so happened that the gods of Taran-gai were very diffuse; they were simply forgotten. Their messengers took over instead and it’s them, more than anybody else, that the Taran-gais worship. And they were the five elements. We know the four elements – Earth, Air, Fire and Water. The fifth was Stone – Shama. And Shama was beyond the reach of the gods. He’s not death in a direct sense but the god of abandoned hope, the god of unexpected death.”

Daniel thought that was pretty much what people thought about Tengel the Evil: that he had entered into a pact not with the Devil but with Shama, agreeing that Tengel’s successors were to provide beautiful young flowers for Shama’s garden. Black flowers – the young people whom Tengel’s successors had killed out of cruelty. In return, Tengel the Evil would be given the right to eternal life. Daniel mentioned this to Irovar, who nodded. “This is also what I believe and so did Tun-sij. The fate of the Ice People is inextricably linked with Taran-gai.”

Daniel straightened his back. “I mentioned that I had two tasks while I’m here: one was to search for Vendel’s daughter and see that she was all right. I’ve fulfilled that mission. The second task was to try to find what Tun-sij called the source of life.”

He could hear Irovar’s deep sigh. He continued: “We suffer a lot because of this curse that Tengel the Evil brought upon us. I’ve come here because I want to lift the curse. We believe that the answer to the enigma lies in Taran-gai.”

“Let’s go inside,” Irovar said. They rinsed their hands and Shira placed bowls with food for all three of them.

“By the way, where’s your son, Ngut?” Daniel asked.

“He married a woman from another tribe,” Irovar answered. “He doesn’t live here any more. He’s a great hunter now. A shaman. Wealthy.”

Daniel could not help feeling slightly relieved. Vendel’s description of Ngut had not exactly tempted him to get to know Ngut any better.

When they had eaten, Irovar took a deep breath and said: “My friends: the moment has come sooner that we expected. This is what we’ve been waiting for. My dear Daniel, your task coincides with Shira’s.”

“Are we to leave for Taran-gai now?” Daniel asked excitedly.

Irovar sighed. “Taran-gai isn’t what it used to be. Fate has been hard on its inhabitants during this past year. Not many are left up in the mountains.”

“Why not?”

“Armed men arrived from Vorkuta. They wanted to destroy this people blocking the way between east and west. The few remaining inhabitants of Taran-gai have withdrawn high up among the cliffs and they’re protected by the Mountain Guardians.”

“Who are they?”

“Of course, I’ve only heard rumours because one enters Taran-gai only reluctantly, and now even more so than before. They say that there are five terrible men under the leadership of someone by the name of Sarmik. Nobody wants to fall out with the Mountain Guardians. They’re ... bloodthirsty!”

“Sarmik? The Wolf? The one that Vendel spoke about?”

“Yes. Precisely,” Irovar nodded.

“But Vendel talked of him in a cordial way.”

“Yes. Sarmik was a fine young man in those days. But many years have passed since Vendel was here, and hardship hardens many men. I don’t know who the others are, but one of them is certainly the cursed child you mentioned yesterday. That child whom Vendel had heard about.”

“He’s not so young any longer.”

“No, certainly not! They say he’s the most horrific person you can imagine. Shama’s vassal is what they call him. The face of death, or death personified.”

“That doesn’t put me off. Back in Norway, we have Ulvhedin, another one who’s cursed. He looks as if he’s just risen from hell, but he became my best friend. My mother is also cursed, and she’s as beautiful as the rising sun.”

Irovar smiled wistfully at the young man’s eagerness and his clumsy attempts to make himself clear in their language. He spoke it surprisingly well but he did not know its intricacies so he had to make long detours to say what he wanted.

“These five men really make life unbearable for all those who try to enter. The question remains, however, how much longer they can hold their ground, and how long it will be before the Russians find out and send reinforcements.”

“I thought the Russians came from Vorkuta?”

“No, those were just captives who had run away. Crude men who had heard of wild Taran-gai and its population of wizards and witches and who found a target for their wanderlust and cruelty.”

“Are there many of them?”

“There were to begin with, about fifty. Now the Mountain Guardians are bound to have dramatically reduced their numbers.”

“So it’s twice as dangerous to move about in Taran-gai now? First, you have to be careful that you don’t come across the intruders, and second, there are the Mountain Guardians.”

“Entering Taran-gai has always been dangerous. Vendel could tell you about that.”

Daniel nodded.

“But right now, it’s outright reckless. Nevertheless, this is the route that Shira must follow. Now!” Irovar said.

“She mustn’t go on her own. I’ll join her.”

Irovar smiled gratefully. “I knew you would say that. You’re just as open and frank as Vendel. And, of course, I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to. You’re a Samoyed!”

The old man straightened his back. He reached Daniel almost to the shoulders. “But I’m the one who knows!” he said importantly. Daniel acceded to this statement.

Now Shira said something. Her beautiful voice sounded light inside the tent. “In a way, I feel relieved. I sense that there’s an unknown power in me – and for all these years I’ve felt as if I’m wasting my time.”

Daniel regarded her in the light from the hole in the top of the tent. So small and delicate – but with no trace of fear. Only certainty about a destiny, that had been decided for her – and a slight hint of sadness that there was nothing she could do about it.

He tried to comfort her. “It has been said that we of the Ice People have tremendous protectors. That our noblest ancestors stand behind us when we’re in danger.”

“I can well believe that,” she smiled. “But your ancestors aren’t mine. We have only Tan-ghil in common and I doubt that he’s on our side now.”

“No, but I also have another protector. I’ll lend it to you.”

He unbuttoned his shirt and took out the mandrake. Irovar whistled softly when he saw it, and Shira touched it respectfully. Daniel spoke briefly about its history. Irovar nodded several times. “It’s very powerful, Daniel! You can be proud of it! However, it’s true what your mother told you: it’s linked to you. Keep it, you may need it in Taran-gai.”

“You’re probably right,” Daniel admitted, placing the mandrake around his neck once again. “Anyway, it’s nice to know that it’s with us, isn’t it?”

“Very much so!”

“Do you have any idea of what we must do when we reach Taran-gai?” Daniel asked cautiously.

“I know a good deal but not all. I think it will be a combination of the news that you’ve just spoken about, and Shira’s task – plus what we’ll get to know in Taran-gai.”

“That makes sense.”

“I suggest that we spend today telling each other all we know about the Ice People and Taran-gai. Tomorrow we’ll begin our journey. There’s no time to waste.”

Shira said nothing. She sat silently with her hands in her lap, lost in her own thoughts.

They reached the taiga plain when the sun was highest in the sky. But this time there was no flautist in Vendel’s bewitched, dripping forest. Today, everything was bone dry and all the Taran-gais were gathered up in the wild mountains that rose so threateningly between the forest and the sea.

“Where do you think the enemy is?” Daniel asked quietly.

“I assume that by ‘enemy’ you mean those crude scumbags who are trying to destroy the Taran-gais?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to call them prisoners?” Irovar suggested. “They’re prisoners who have either been released or are on the run from other tribes so we can’t just call them Russians. The others we’ll call the Mountain Guardians, of course. But to answer your question, both parties are bound to have caught sight of us by now. So there’s nothing else we can do but trust your ancestors, your mandrake and Shira’s protectors, whom I have not yet told you about. But there’s one thing I can tell you. They’re awesome!”

Daniel was not quite sure whether this was comforting to know. The wilderness and Taran-gai really frightened him. The silent forest in which no birds sang, the mountains that hid watchful eyes ... His hand was on his pistol but he feared that it had been damaged by splashes of salt water from the Arctic Ocean and that the gunpowder had turned into one big, damp lump from all the great and small rivers he had had to work his way across on the long journey from Arkhangelsk.

He had the same thought as Vendel once had: the Taran-gai taiga must serve as a brilliant protection against the elements. But right now, everything was calm. They moved quickly and silently forward towards the mountains out by the sea. When they were quite close, they passed a ravaged village. Daniel wondered whether this was where Vendel had seen the horrific beast that had crept around his feet, pouring out oaths and curses. It almost had to be. There was no sign of life here: the village had been razed to the ground, and the inhabitants must have fled up into the mountains. If they had survived at all, of course ...

They continued. They had begun to climb when Daniel came to a sudden halt.

“Stop!” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Irovar muttered.

“There’s something close by. Something hostile.”

“How do you know?”

“The mandrake. It doubled up because of something unpleasant.”

Neither of the others seemed to find his words strange. They just nodded, standing quietly and listening.

Now that they had crossed the plateau, they could hear a soft breeze coming from the pine forest. They could also feel the icy cold from the mountains. The countryside was more undulating here. Small, abrupt slate peaks alternated with clusters of denser forest here and there, and it was precisely these clusters, that they feared.

As they stood there, they caught the sound of soft footsteps. “Get down!” Irovar whispered, and they crouched on the ground, Daniel pulling Shira close to him to protect her. She was as light as a feather, and he was afraid that she would break. He could feel her heart beating hard.

Then he heard a quiet voice say something in Russian just behind the nearest slate outcrop. “They were here! I saw them a moment ago! Three strangers.”

“We’ll seize them,” another, cruder, voice said.

Everything was still. The three of them were reasonably safe where they were lying, hidden behind tall clumps of monkshood. But this could not last forever.

They heard a sound behind the projecting rock, an indefinable sound as if somebody moaned. Then everything was completely still.

Why did the men not appear? Irovar and Daniel had their pathetic weapons of defence ready – but nobody appeared. Time passed. They would have to go around the rock in order to move on. Were these men just waiting for them?

Finally, Irovar stood up. The others followed his example. They looked at one another, edging their way closer. Daniel signalled that he had better go first. He crept cautiously around the projecting rock. Suddenly he felt quite dry in the mouth. He breathed deeply, signalling to the others that they were to come.

They stood and stared. Two filthy, ragged men were lying among the tufts of cotton grass. They were obviously escaped prisoners. The white cotton grass was stained red with blood from their slit bodies.

It was a little while before Irovar was able to say a word. “The Mountain Guardians,” he muttered. “The Mountain Guardians are here. This is how they usually treat their victims.”

Shira had shrunk against the cliff wall as if she was afraid that her legs would give way under her. Daniel took her gently by the arm.

“Come, we must hurry onwards!”

Although they walked fast, they tried to move as unobtrusively as possible. They expected to be attacked at any moment by one or the other group.

At last they had climbed so high and were so tired that Irovar signalled that they could rest. Now they had a view over the taiga right up to the Urals, while they themselves were on an open expanse. They could see the remains of another small village not far away, but they found a quiet shady spot between some boulders so they could not be seen from below. From above they could be seen by anybody but there was nothing they could do about that.

“How are you managing, Shira?” Daniel enquired gently. It was as if something was beginning to happen to the girl. The expression in her eyes shifted like ripples on the water; her hair shone with all the nuances of fire; she blended with the earth on which she sat and the sky behind her. It was frightening and fascinating all at the same time.

“I don’t know,” she said, and her voice sounded weary. “I’m tired. I’ve always known that I’m not quite like others, that I’ve been given some gifts, which I don’t understand myself. And never have I felt them more strongly than today since we came to Taran-gai. This is my country. That’s something I feel now. I don’t know what awaits me, but you, Grandpa, have always made it clear to me that I must keep my thoughts clean and pure. Free of jealousy, desire and arrogance. Purity, purity, was something you always talked about. You said that this was so extremely important for me, but so difficult sometimes. Not being allowed to be angry at cruel words ... Always having the courage to do what you are afraid of. If only I knew what it’s all about!”

Daniel stroked her hair awkwardly. He did not know what to say because her enigma was so difficult to fathom. And Irovar did not want to say anything. This peculiar Taran-gai, which Daniel did not understand! A remote country, that had developed completely independently from the rest of the world ... Could it really be true that their ancient superstition, their legend, had become a reality by virtue of its people’s closeness to nature, to the forest and the mountains? All this talk of gods and spirits, the Mountain Guardians and, above all, Shama himself – where did it all belong? In the real world or in the world of make-believe?

But for the fact that he moved about in a similar borderland himself, he would have brushed it all aside as nonsense. However, as things stood, he had to believe in Shira and the spirits of her ancestors, no matter how vehemently he opposed the idea.

After they had had a good rest, Irovar got up. “Do you know the road?” Daniel asked as he helped Shira to her feet.

“Nobody has ever reached as far as this,” Irovar answered. “Besides, how am I to know what we’re moving towards?”

They continued their arduous trek over barren expanses covered with short, brownish-yellow grass between grey-white stones that had fallen down the mountain slopes. Up here it was cold, and a soft breeze swept through the mountain grass. If anyone was puzzled by the absence of the prisoners or the Mountain Guardians, they never said so out loud.

Daniel looked thoughtfully at Shira, who walked in front of him. She was dressed in her finery now that she was to visit Taran-gai to try to come to terms with her path in life. She wore the full dress of the Samoyeds: a tunic made of small, triangular, multicoloured pieces of skin and soft, light summer boots. Her beautiful hair: now Daniel could see that auburn was its dominant colour. She had been plaiting her shining hair while they rested, as if she was afraid that the others would notice how many colours it had.

There was something touching about her fine clothes, and Daniel felt a lump in his throat. As if she had dressed nicely but completely in vain ...

Irovar stopped and bent down. He pulled a small, insignificant plant out of the ground, carefully brushing the dirt off the root. Then he cut it into small pieces, put some in his mouth and gave one piece each to the two others. Shira immediately began to chew hers. Daniel followed her example hesitantly.

“This is the stimulant of the Taran-gais,” Irovar explained. “My wife taught me to use it. It’s good and gives pleasant dreams.”

More than that, Daniel thought. I’m beginning to feel dizzy ... but it’s pleasant!

“Your teeth don’t become discoloured or anything like that?”

“Not at all. It only grows here in Taran-gai, and the Samoyeds would give much for it.”

“I would really like to take some back to Ulvhedin,” Daniel said. “He’s very interested in medicinal herbs; he would get a lot out of it.”

“There you are,” Irovar said, handing him some plants. Daniel accepted them gratefully and hid them away.

It was now late afternoon. They had reached some grey-green cliff formations with snow between them when they heard somebody following them once more. They threw themselves behind the boulders and kept a lookout over the rugged, deserted landscape.

The weather was no longer so clear. Heavy clouds had rolled in from the west, covering the summits in a grey mist. They felt enveloped by this grey mist and no longer knew where they were in relation to Nor, or the taiga, for that matter.

They were at least able to see some distance down the slope, they had climbed. There the prisoners, whom they thought of as their enemies, were sneaking up, heading right towards them. The prisoners had not yet caught sight of them but they bent down frequently to examine the ground. They were bound to find footprints. None of the three had thought of erasing their traces. They counted eight pursuers in all.

Irovar looked about. The road down was blocked. To the left was the pass they were heading towards, but their pursuers were bound to catch up with them there. Directly in front of them was a mountain wall. It was impossible to get past.

They had only one possibility. To their right was a shapeless rock barrier, but it was impossible to guess what was behind it. If they could reach it without being seen, they would have a slight respite. They would hardly leave any tracks on the bare cliffs.

They jointly considered the situation. Irovar was wearing a bright red scarf. He would have to hide that, but otherwise they blended nicely with the surroundings. They began to crawl on all fours up the impassable terrain. They had to be very careful not to dislodge loose stones, and all the while, they looked back to see whether their pursuers down below had seen them. But for the moment, it seemed that the prisoners were focusing their attention on the pass to the left, and their quarry’s quiet, rapid progress through the sheltering boulders meant that they did not see Irovar, Shira and Daniel.

A final, desperate crawl, and the big stones hid them. They crept together and heaved a sigh of relief.

“We won’t be able to outwit them very much longer,” Daniel said quietly. “And we can’t go back. Where are we now?”

They gazed at the new nature phenomenon that lay ahead of them. Under the clouds, a bluish densely packed snow brightened everything. A glacier with new cliffs lay on the other side. Farther ahead it disappeared in grey-white clouds. Down below, there was nothing but boulders.

Shira shuddered.

“Comforting,” Daniel commented wryly.

“We’ll have to cross it,” Irovar said. “But cautiously! There may be cracks under the snow.”

Shira stepped out on the glacier, putting her feet lightly between the treacherous crevasses and holes. The men followed immediately behind her.

When they were about halfway across the glacier, Irovar slipped and bumped into Shira, who lost her balance. The very next moment she was stuck, with one foot hopelessly wedged in a narrow crevasse. Her knee was locked so she knelt down on the other knee and tried to pull herself up. But in vain.

The others were silent in despair. Of course, they tried to cut her loose but one knife broke immediately against the rock-solid ice and the other was as effective as if they had been trying to cut stone.

Daniel crouched down, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Does this hurt?”

She nodded, her lips clenched. Irovar was inconsolable because he was the one who had driven Shira into this.

“We’ll find a way of getting you onto your feet,” Daniel said, comforting her. “Maybe a sharp stone ...”

But the stones on the glacier were rubbed smooth and round by centuries of ice and wind.

Shira tried to melt the snow and ice around her knee with the warmth of her hands. Her lips trembled. They were haunted ... they were delayed, soon night would fall and they knew nothing about these inhospitable mountains, did not even know where they were heading.

What was she to do? She was hopelessly stuck. Suddenly she realized that the men next to her had fallen silent. She heard Daniel let out a soft gasp. Shira lifted her head.

They stood, gazing up towards the glacier. The cloud cover had lifted a bit now, and they could see farther into the distance.

Shira struggled to breathe. Ranged on the ice above them stood five men in skin clothes. Nearest to them was a tall, elderly man with greyish hair and beard and big skin boots. Not far from him stood two younger men, their gaze fixed on Shira. One had long, dark hair that reached almost to his waist. The other was surprisingly young and had a defiant expression on his slightly vague face.

Farther up on the ice, a fourth man was gazing with great interest at the helpless girl. In his coarse face a merciless smile played about his lips, revealing big tusks with no other teeth in between. Black hair hung in strands down over his eyes. His whole appearance showed only too clearly that he was an evil person. His fingers toyed with a knife blade.

But it was the fifth man who drew everybody’s attention. Shira felt everything go black as she lifted her head to look at him. Daniel, who after all was used to Ulvhedin, felt as if the ground was swaying beneath him. The man stood right up in the mist and they could hardly see him, but what they could see was plenty! He carried a huge bow and stood completely motionless, like an anticipating, horrible threat from another world.

Maybe there had once been something human about his facial features, but none of them believed it. Right now, there was nothing human about him. A kind of mask seemed to lie over his face. A mask of the utmost horror that it was humanly possible to imagine.

None of them were in any doubt about who stood before them.

The Mountain Guardians.