This was why he hated her, she thought, confused. He was scared, scared of her! But why?
If only she could remember.
She screamed and screamed; asked him to go away, but the vision lingered. She couldn’t move any further in memory.
It seemed that she was only to see the Ice People, and the history of the Ice People began with Tengel the Evil One. Everything else before that was shrouded in darkness.
By now, Sol was writhing across the grassy slope. She was not easily frightened, but this was too ghastly. The man and the sick woman had made a tremendous effort and crawled over next to her. Still barely conscious themselves, they tried to wake her.
But Sol’s eyes continued to stare, wild and empty in the darkness of night, and her cries of despair grew ever louder, drowning their voices.
“Dad!” she screamed. “Dad, Dad!”
***
Back home at Linden Avenue, Tengel woke with a start from a dream.
“Sol,” he whispered.
Silje, woken by his movements, also sat up at once, gazing at him in alarm.
“Sol’s in trouble,” he said with anxiety in his voice. “She’s asking for my help.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. This has never happened before. I didn’t know she had such a gift ... or that I was able to sense her. Oh, my God, what am I to do? Sol ... Sol!” he whispered.
“Is her life in danger?” asked Silje, scared.
“No, it’s something else. I must try to connect with her.”
Silje placed her hand on his arm. “Send her all my love as well!”
“I’ll do that,” he answered lovingly. “Now be very still, and I’ll try ... I don’t know whether I’m able to do this.”
Silje didn’t move a muscle. She looked at Tengel who lay with his legs drawn up to his chest and his face pressed hard against his knees. Her hand still rested tenderly on his arm.
Minutes passed like this and in her own inadequate human way, Silje tried to concentrate all her thoughts and love on Sol. Silje had boundless love to give, which should help, she thought.
She felt how Tengel had become wet with perspiration from concentrating so intensely. At one point he shuddered, but he didn’t explain why.
When he finally lifted his head, wiping away the perspiration from his forehead, Silje felt as if she’d spent a lifetime of anxious waiting.
“You hit the nail on the head,” Tengel said, exhausted. “Love was what she needed,” he said.
“What was wrong?”
“I don’t know. Goodness knows what she’s got herself involved in. It was nothing of this world, I can tell you that. It was a terror so immense that it can’t be described. Evil, Silje, hateful evil directed against our little Sol. And yet it wasn’t real. I wonder ... Surely she hasn’t ...? No, I’ve no idea what it was.”
“Is it over now?”
“Yes, I think so. Now everything feels gentle and calm. The resistance is gone.”
“Resistance?”
“Yes, a power, a horrific power she was fighting against. Sol was experimenting with something forbidden and toxic.”
“I can’t help thinking of her as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice,” whispered Silje. “Once, many years ago, I asked her to be careful.”
Tengel lay back in bed. “Sol’s never been careful. But this time she was scared. Frightened out of her mind. Sol of all people! I’d never thought that possible.”
“You know what she did,” said Silje thoughtfully, “because you sense it.”
He placed his arm under her head. “I don’t know but I only suspect.”
“What?”
“There’s a magical formula ... which I’ve only heard about in occult legends. About a brew of some sort that is made of certain herbs, and which can give a person hallucinations so that one sees one’s ancestors.”
Silje turned her head towards him. “Do you mean to say that she saw the Ice People? Those who’ve been condemned?”
“Well, of course, she didn’t see them properly, but she was determined to see them anyway, and then she created her own images of them. It was more the workings of her imagination. And as you know, Sol happens to have a lively imagination.”
Silje lay quiet for a while. “Figments of the imagination can be just as frightening as reality. I realise that. But was it really just her imagination?” she asked suspiciously.
Tengel hesitated for a moment.
“At one point you shivered!” said Silje.
“Did I? Well, no wonder. I’ve never seen anything so grotesque. He hated her, Silje, with all the power of death!”
“Tengel the Evil One?”
He shivered once more. “You mustn’t mention his name here!”
“Did Sol imagine that he hated her?”
“That seems to be the only possible explanation.”
They were silent for a while. Then Tengel pulled Silje gently to himself.
“Thank you for helping me by the way.”
“Did you sense it?” she asked, surprised.
“Did I sense it? I think it was our combined efforts that helped Sol.”
Silje was completely taken by surprise. Just imagine that she ....
She heaved a deep sigh ... and said a silent prayer.
***
In the remote, wooded ravine, Sol was aware of a sudden feeling of peace flowing through her body. The man and woman placed her on the grass once more. They were still shaken at what they’d been witnessing. The old woman was still absorbed in her own visions, and the two others returned to their fantasy state.
The horrific figure who had shocked Sol so badly had withdrawn into the darkness. Faint visions kept on coming, but Sol was so exhausted by now that she hardly noticed them. Soon they disappeared entirely.
In the aftermath, she’d also vaguely seen some figure from before the time of Tengel the Evil One. They had a foreign appearance. She had vaguely seen other people trekking over snow-covered landscapes. She instinctively felt that her earliest ancestors must have come from afar in long-forgotten migrations and settled in Norway.
At that moment, she remembered the old woman’s words about ‘the Finnish lumberjacks’ from the east. Tengel the Evil One’s ancestors must have been the last of a now extinct tribe from far away in the east – and whose people had special, supernatural powers. Long dead and forgotten except for Sol and her family.
Liv, Are and herself. Only these three, she felt sure, were able to pass on the characteristics. I’ll do my best, she thought. This was something she’d promised Hanna. But she was in no great hurry. First of all she wanted to live life to the full!
The Ice People – might there be a third explanation to the name? That it meant a people who had trekked over ice and snow many centuries ago? It was certainly possible.
Suddenly she realised that she was wide awake and had been for quite some time. Alone in the forest by the embers of the dying fire – alone because the other three companions around the fire were still deep in their dreams.
Sol promised herself that she’d never ever take part in such an experiment again. The others had peaceful expressions on their faces. They undoubtedly had nice, harmless ancestors. She’d seen the grotesque, horrific creatures of the Ice People once, which was more than enough.
She shivered once again at the very thought – to face the evil of the Ice People again would be a form of self-torture. This was something she wasn’t going to indulge!
She sat up and put some more wood on the fire.
What was it that had saved her and driven away that awful vision?
She tried to go back in her thoughts, but everything appeared so hazy before her mind’s eye.
Somebody had shaken her, talked to her, but it hadn’t helped her one bit.
No, it was something else ...
Could it have been Tengel? She remembered that she’d called his name to help her in her desperation – but surely he couldn’t ...?
Well, wasn’t that what had happened? She couldn’t remember it. Love? Hadn’t she felt a warm, selfless love that encircled her like a protective mantle? Tengel .... Silje? No, that was impossible. Silje didn’t possess supernatural powers. Whatever had caused her to feel it, her stepparents’ boundless love had touched her deeply.
Sol was weeping silently, but her tears were soft and tender.
Chapter 8
When they had all recovered from their experiences at Ansgar’s Klyfta, the four of them sat and talked until the morning. Gradually, the night faded and as dawn approached the dew formed on the grass and the birds began to twitter.
Sol had thought of staying with her new-found friends, but the words that the old woman had said repeatedly about her being needed at home in Norway had made her feel very uneasy.
She also reminded herself that she mustn’t forget Meta, who was waiting for her. It had briefly slipped her mind. She wanted to see the poor child properly placed in a job with a roof over her head, preferably at Fulltofta. After that, she was to meet Jacob Skille again. She was looking forward to that.
But first of all, she was determined to take her ride to Blakulla which she’d been dreaming about ever since she left Norway. Now, at last, she had all the herbs for the ointment that would send her on the long journey over mountains and valleys. She felt that she couldn’t allow herself to wait any more. If she didn’t go now, she wouldn’t have the chance once she had fetched Meta, and then she’d have to wait until she was back in Norway, and she didn’t want that. It was imperative that she was alone and undisturbed. As she was now.
Meta could wait a while. Sol had said a couple of days or three. No more than that.
It crossed Sol’s mind that she should have a bad conscience because she’d left the raped young girl alone in the wilderness, but Meta had been alone since her mother died, so she was probably used to it, thought Sol.
She took a warm leave of her new friends and went back to the spot where her horse was tethered.
There was a deserted spot on the Linderöd Ridge where one could see for miles. Far, far away in the distance she could see a few houses. Otherwise the whole area appeared desolate. Her three friends were traveling south to where the old woman lived and where they would spend a few days. She could see them as tiny specks very far away.
They had asked her whether she’d join them before she left for Norway, but Sol had explained that she wanted to try the black nightshade. They understood that she wanted to be alone.
“Have you got the strength for that after what you went through last night?” asked the man.
“It can’t possibly get any worse,” replied Sol.
“No, it won’t get any worse,” laughed the sick woman. “Quite the opposite. Have you never been there before? Because if not, you’ve got something to look forward to!”
“But first of all, you must take a rest,” advised the old woman. “Then you can begin your journey, but you must realise that the trip to Blakulla will take quite some time.”
“How long?”
“That will depend on you. Some take a short route, others a longer one.”
She followed the small specks with her eyes until they’d disappeared. With a pang of sadness, she sensed that this was the last time she’d see them. All three were doomed, and although they’d said that they were looking forward to seeing her next year, they probably all knew that by then Ansgar’s Klyfata would be empty.
Then Sol was alone with her horse. She’d taken their advice and slept for a few hours in the morning and now she was ready to begin her journey to Blakulla.
The memory of the terrible visions brought on by the effect of the brew had abated slightly and now seemed nothing more than a terrible nightmare. All Sol sensed was excitement.
This was something she’d been waiting for ever since Hanna had told her about her journeys to Blakulla, where she would delight in orgies and other forms of sensual enjoyment ...
She prepared the ointment with trembling hands. The sheep tallow had lain in a box for so long that it had turned almost rancid. She managed to make it soft again by rubbing and warming it. Then she added the three magical herbs: henbane, hemlock and black nightshade.
When the ointment was sufficiently soft, she took her clothes off and lay down under a tree with leaves that hid her. Although the earth was warm and dry at this spot, she put a blanket over her. Then she rubbed the ointment in her armpits and other parts of her body where the skin is thinnest. The pole with the dead robber’s hair also received a thin coating before she placed it between her legs and pressed it firmly against the base of her abdomen. This was her sole means of transport to Blakulla.
Then she grasped the pole with both hands, relaxed and waited.
While she lay waiting to see what would happen, she thought with joy of the evening nightshade. She’d been given detailed information of where she could find more of it by the banks of the river. She planned to take as much of the herb with her as she could, to store and use for years to come – if this ride went well.
Sol suddenly felt drowsy and she was on her way. Everything looked so beautiful! The colours were so intense that they shattered in the sun. She was lifted from the ground and floated from side to side, up and down across Scania’s wonderful hills. Down there was Glimmingehus. Looking along its stepped gable, she wondered if Jacob Skille would be outside – but it was empty except for the storks, which greeted her with squawks.
Flying was wonderful! She rose and fell as though riding on invisible waves, following the dips of an undulating rich green countryside below. It was just like the countryside in Österlen she’d ridden through.
This is where the sea ought to be, she thought, but there wasn’t any sea. How strange!
Suddenly the pole she was travelling on tilted so that she very nearly fell off. She was shocked and her hands felt warm and sweaty and she took a firmer grip of the pole.
Other figures were breezing through the air. She recognised the old witch from Ansgar’s Klyfta swooping past and they waved cheerfully to each other. And wasn’t that the pastor’s wife from back home at Graastensholm? Sol knew very well that witches who’d ridden to Blakulla often exposed pastors’ wives whom they’d seen there – but surely not the pastor’s wife from home ...? She who’d always been as virtuous and pure as any saint! But Sol was sure that it was her. What was she doing here? She was riding on a goat, which was proudly showing its long pointed “unmentionable” to Sol, which made her laugh.
She would have to tell them about this back home!
Far away in the distance, Sol could see a dark blue mountain and as she drew closer to it, she was greeted by flurries of small demons soaring towards her.
One of them settled on the pole behind her. First she felt him lift her and then enter her. Sol was ecstatic. This was how it should feel! This was a different experience altogether from Jacob’s manly bear hug.
Then she realised that they’d arrived. All of them were there – men and women, famous and infamous mixed with devils of all shapes and forms. The pastor’s wife stood on the ground and with one swift movement she bent forward and lifted her skirts, allowing the goat to mount her. Sol watched her face, naked and dissolved in sheer erotic delight.
The demon behind Sol jumped from the pole. But Sol was not supposed to join these creatures that danced a wild, jumping dance around a hole in the ground. Sol’s pole with the grey hair flapping at its end, steered itself suddenly at great speed towards the very heart of the black hole, which was much bigger than she’d imagined. It was an abyss and she rushed straight down into this abyss at full speed. The wind whistled around her and she fell deeper and deeper.
Then she came to an abrupt halt and set the pole aside. She stood up among more gyrating, dancing hordes who stretched out their hands to draw her to them. Suddenly everyone stopped and fell silent.
From their midst rose The Evil One himself. His gaze wandered slowly over the crowd that surrounded him. Then he looked directly at Sol, raised his hand, and pointed his long finger straight at her.
Without any warning, the crowd had disappeared and Sol was alone with him in a small cave where the air was very warm and filled with the scent of carnal lust.
Satan looked at her and smiled – and because his appearance is created by the imagination of each person when they see him, he became the most wonderful, attractive and sensual man Sol had ever seen. He had cat-like yellow eyes like her own, which seemed to be on fire. His mouth was set in a wry grin, revealing white pointed teeth and his hair was jet-black, and his dark body ...
Sol gasped. She made no attempt to resist as he took her in his strong embrace. For over half an hour, she was submerged in raptures of intense pleasure, a whole series of them. She couldn’t have enough of him. She clung on tightly, refusing to let go, and he was just as intent on pleasing her.
Only a hazy memory remained of the journey back. She couldn’t even remember that she’d flown through the air when she found herself lying under the tree once more near Ansgar’s Klyfta, the inside of her thighs were sticky and moist and she had a screaming headache.
She was unable to move her head. She sensed that it was late at night. Every time she tried to move, she could feel the headache, so she just lay still, relishing the dull pain in her abdomen that told her she’d been aroused for a long time. Nevertheless, she so wished that she could be aroused all over again from the very beginning!
My word, she thought. Now I’ve got something to teach Jacob! What we did was child’s play compared to this!
Oh, if only she could meet the man from Blakulla, the Evil One, again. If only it was possible to meet him here on earth.
Poor Jacob suddenly seemed so boring by comparison.
The Stepdaughter Page 13
