Land of Hidden Fires

by Kirk Kjeldsen

  He pushed the thoughts from his mind and picked up his pace, wanting to return to Loki before the sunlight had drained away and the curfew was back in effect. He soon emerged from the trees and saw the outskirts of the small village. Before he reached them, though, he spotted a pair of Waffen-SS milling about outside one of the houses. Then he saw a half-track full of more Waffen-SS approaching, and another group of soldiers checking a local’s papers by the Meråker Bridge.

  Erling stopped and ducked behind a stand of trees. He counted the German soldiers. There were at least fifty that he could see, and he knew that there had to be more inside or hidden from his view. He counted a dozen vehicles as well, including two Panzer III tanks. What was an entire company of Germans doing in Meråker? he wondered. It didn’t seem right; a dozen or two soldiers, maybe, but not an entire company, and certainly no armored tanks.

  He soon spotted a farmer riding a horse-drawn cart. He thought about approaching the farmer and asking about the Germans, but if the Germans stopped him, they’d ask him what he was doing all the way out in Meråker, especially without his cart. He slipped back toward the tree line instead and continued along the edge of the village, staying close to the forest. He eventually left the trees near a group of houses and approached the town’s main road. In the distance, he spotted the Handelsforening, but he avoided it after seeing a group of Waffen-SS outside.

  He continued on through the town, spotting more Nazis at the train station, and more outside the town hall as well. After reaching the town center, he turned around and headed back in the direction he’d come from, his thoughts drifting back toward Kari. She must have approached Meråker on her way east, he assumed. With all the Nazis there, though, she couldn’t have passed through it with the Allied pilot. He wondered what she’d done, then wondered about the remainder of her route heading east. If the Germans were protecting Meråker, they must be protecting Kopperå and all the other villages from there to Sweden, as well as all the stations, mills, and dams. Kari must have left the trails and headed for the highlands to get to Sweden, he realized. Unless she was no longer heading east, he couldn’t think of any other route she would take.

  Erling snuck his way toward a barn behind a house that appeared empty. He opened the barn door and went in, then quietly closed the door behind him. He lit a match and made his way through the dark space. The temperature inside the barn was even lower than it was outside, and it smelled like cat urine and mold. It also seemed to have been deserted for some time; no animals dwelled there, and thick cobwebs hung from the rafters and inside the stalls.

  He wandered his way past some rusty farm equipment and approached a cluttered workbench. Then he went through its drawers and shelves, looking for baling wire. He didn’t find any, but he found some screws he could use to stabilize the crack in Loki’s hoof. He also found a rasp he could use to file down the hoof wall.

  Erling put the rasp and screws in his pockets and made his way back toward the barn door. Before he could open it, he heard a commotion outside. He looked through a gap in the wall and saw a group of armed Waffen-SS, walking across the yard. Then he noticed his tracks in the snow, leading directly toward the barn door.

  Erling’s heart caught in his throat. Were they looking for him? he wondered. Had they found Loki? He glanced around for a weapon. Other than a rusty pitchfork and a claw hammer, there wasn’t anything of use.

  He went over to the workbench and grabbed the claw hammer, then crept back toward the barn door. He heard something behind him in the shadows, scratching its way toward him across the dirt floor. He gripped the hammer and raised it, ready to strike. Then he saw two milky eyes emerge from the darkness, sunken at the back of an old dog’s face.

  The dog began to growl, though it was clear from his skewed glance and cloudy eyes that he couldn’t see. Erling reached into his pocket and took out his last strip of jerky. Though his stomach rumbled, he was less afraid of starving than he was of facing a company of Germans. He tossed the jerky across the barn, and the dog ambled after it, disappearing back into the darkness. Erling then turned his attention back to the Germans. He watched as more soldiers approached, joining the others. Then he looked down at his footprints in the snow. In the fading light, they were still visible.

  Erling’s heart hammered in his chest. One of the soldiers saw the slightly open barn door and approached it. Erling hid against the wall of the barn and waited, raising the claw hammer again with a trembling hand. The soldier opened the door and entered the barn, and Erling held his breath and waited as the soldier nosed around. He came close to Erling, and for a moment, Erling thought he might have seen him, but then the soldier made his way back to the door and left the barn, sliding the door shut behind him.

  Erling turned and peered once more through the gap in the wall, breathing a sigh of relief as he watched the men approach the next house. He waited for a few minutes until he was sure they were gone. Then he put the hammer back on the workbench and left the barn.

  He made his way back to the tree line and entered the forest, hurrying toward the foothills where he’d left Loki. His arthritic knee began to throb again, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on through the pain. Overhead, a handful of stars burned brightly in the clear night sky.

  Erling began to plot his next move. He had to assume that Kari had taken the highlands; she wouldn’t have continued following the towns and train lines, with all the Germans in the way. Even if she hadn’t headed into the highlands, by taking them, Erling might be able to reach Sweden before her and start backtracking from there. If she’d gone south or west for any reason, there wasn’t anything he could do, and he wasn’t ready to consider the possibility that she’d gotten caught, either.

  He made up his mind. After he finished repairing the crack in Loki’s hoof, he’d dig up whatever grass he could find and feed and water the mule. Then he’d set out toward the highlands, riding all night. If Loki’s hoof held out, he should be able to get to Sweden by the following afternoon. Even if it didn’t and he had to continue on foot, he could probably make it by the evening.

  He approached the last hill leading toward the spot where he’d left Loki. He bounded his way up the hill, hardly noticing his throbbing knee. He decided that when he found Kari, he wouldn’t be angry. Instead, he’d express his relief, grateful that she was safe.

  Before he could reach the crest of the hill, Erling heard a brief, hollow sound in the distance, like a popping champagne cork. Then a sharp, scratching noise followed it. He stopped in his tracks, then watched as a flare exploded in the sky, releasing a bright red starburst that pierced the night. He watched the brilliant light for a moment as it slowly descended toward the ground, oddly beautiful and out of place. Then he snapped out of his reverie, realizing with horror that the flare had been fired from where he’d left the mule.

  He hurried his way toward the origin of the flare, going from one tree to the next and staying in the shadows. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt dizzy and sick. He approached the clearing where he’d left Loki, and through the trees, he spotted a Norwegian farmer standing next to the mule. Then he saw a pair of armed Waffen-SS talking to the farmer.

  One of them was holding Erling’s rifle.

  CHAPTER 16

  Kari and Lance rode through the night, climbing steadily into the highlands. The air grew colder and thinner the further they went, and Torden’s breathing grew increasingly labored. At one point, they encountered the trail of a fox, zigzagging its way across the landscape. They followed the trail for a while, until it turned sharply and switchbacked toward the lower valley. Then they continued onward, forging their way across the unmarked snow.

  The snowfall picked up, though it was hardly discernible in the darkness. Kari could feel it, though, the way the bigger flakes brushed against her skin and lingered on her clothing. She could hear it as well, dampening Torden’s footfalls and the sound of his ragged breathing. She urged Torden onward, and they clambered up over a
n icy ridge and down toward a barren dale.

  Torden slipped along the decline, balking and nickering until he rediscovered his footing. Then he picked his way forward, one deliberate step at a time. After Torden slipped again, he pulled up and whinnied, refusing to proceed further until Kari dug her heels into his sides. She scanned the horizon, looking for cover. The clouds were low and the night was tar black, and it was impossible to see in the thickening snow; even the mountains in the background had disappeared, retreating into the void. The world before them was an apparition, as murky and shifting as a river after a storm.

  Lance spoke.

  “We should stop,” he said.

  “We need to find cover,” said Kari.

  She kicked Torden’s flanks, and they continued on into the valley. The temperature dropped further, and the winds picked up with nothing to impede them, blinding them with icy dust and penetrating every gap and stitch in their clothing. Torden stumbled again, and they nearly fell off as he struggled to stay afoot. Lance grabbed Kari by the shoulder and spoke loudly over the lashing wind.

  “We really should stop,” he said.

  Ignoring him, she continued to look toward the horizon, finally spotting a stand of pine trees about a kilometer away.

  “Over there,” she said, urging the horse onward.

  It took them almost half an hour to cover a distance that should’ve taken minutes. The biting wind forced water from the corners of their eyes and rattled their teeth, and by the time they finally reached the trees, Kari could hardly feel her fingers or toes. They dismounted from the horse and looked for shelter. Kari spotted a gap between a few thick spruce trees where little snow had reached the ground. She led Torden toward it and tied him to one of its lower branches. Then she and Lance began to gather wood.

  Once they had enough, Kari cleared away a section of the forest floor. After she got through the snow, she tried to dig into the frozen earth, but her numb fingers refused to work. Lance took over, using a stick to get a hole started and then a flat rock to dig deeper into the hard ground. After he dug a pit about a meter wide and half a meter deep, they went to look for kindling.

  They gathered the few dry sticks and leaves they could find until they had a pile the size of a hawk’s nest. Then Lance used his knife to shave some bark onto the small mound. He took out his Zippo and struggled to ignite it, but his fingers had also gone numb. He wrung out his hands and tried again, eventually managing to ignite the wick.

  He lit the pile of tinder, bending over it to shield it from the menacing wind. The fire took hold in the bark scrapings, then spread to the leaves and sticks. Once they were burning, Lance stacked a few frozen logs onto the pile. At first, they didn’t catch, but after the fire melted the frost on them, the logs slowly began to burn.

  Kari and Lance ventured out to gather more wood. Once they’d collected enough to last the night, they approached the fire and huddled over it, extending their hands to the flames. They alternated warming their front and backsides until they weren’t shivering anymore. Before long, Kari was able to open and close her fingers again, and not long after that, she could feel her toes as well.

  The winds fell and rose and then fell again, and the clouds shifted and broke, opening a vast window to the heavens. The stars emerged bright and clear in the inky night, glittering like bits of mica in a stone. The God’s Nail shone directly overhead, in the center of the sky; Thjazi’s Eyes gleamed in the southeast, where Odin had cast them after battle, and Loki’s Torch burned to the south above Oslo, brighter than them all.

  They warmed themselves by the fire, hanging their wet coats on the low branches to dry them. They sat there until the winds died down and the logs dwindled to husks of ash, then piled more wood onto the blaze and waited for the flames to take hold. After a while, Kari’s stomach rumbled. Embarrassed, she looked away from Lance, but a moment later, her stomach whined again. Lance rose.

  “I’ll look for some food—”

  She stood before he could finish.

  “I’ll go,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  “I know this area,” she said, pulling on her coat. Before he could reply, she took the pistol and headed off into the darkness, making her way through the forest and heading toward a nearby valley. The area was full of deer, elk, and rabbit, and it was home to bears and wolves as well. She’d hunted the hills as a girl, pegging squirrels and ptarmigans with a single-shot .22-caliber guttekarabin. Most of the animals were asleep now, but there were still some night feeders out, judging by the fresh tracks in the snow.

  After a while, the snow stopped falling and the winds died down, but it remained biting cold. Before Kari had gotten far from their makeshift camp, the warmth from the fire had vanished from her clothing. She raised her collar and pulled down her hat, then shoved her fists into her pockets and continued on her way. She soon found the trail of a young hare, its oval-shaped tracks barely puncturing the icy crust of the snow.

  Kari followed the trail as it wound past a copse of trees and through a patch of barren cloudberry bushes. Halfway across an open field, the tracks abruptly ended. Most likely, the animal had been snatched there by a hawk or some other bird of prey.

  She continued on, and after she crossed the open field, she made her way up a rocky incline. Once she reached its peak, she looked over her shoulder, toward their makeshift camp. The fire looked so small and so far away, though it couldn’t have been more than a kilometer from her. She wondered what Lance was doing, and if he was thinking of her, then pushed the thought from her mind and trudged onward.

  She followed the ridgeline for a while and then made her way down toward a wooded vale, crossing a field full of waist-high bushes that would soon begin to bloom. Approaching the trees, she heard the soft, low-pitched hooting of a grey owl in the distance. Where there were owls, she assumed, there were likely weasels and other small game. Exhausted and famished, she would’ve settled for a squirrel at that point, or even a rat.

  Kari wandered through a maze of naked birch trees and shrubs, and she soon picked up another set of tracks. They were different from the hare’s, deeper and more spaced-out, like those of a fox. She slowed her pace as she continued on, picking her way across the rocks and ice so she wouldn’t spook her prey. Then she made her way down another decline, following the animal’s zigzagging path. The tracks grew fresher the further she went, and she soon spotted movement in the distance, by some bushes near the base of the hill.

  She stalked her quarry, and before long, she saw something short and fat waddling through the underbrush. At first, she thought it might be a wood grouse or a hedgehog. When she crept closer, though, she realized it was a badger. She followed the animal for some time, pausing when it stopped and resuming pursuit when it continued. She kept as quiet as she could, moving slowly and letting the snow muffle her footfalls. Kari drew the pistol when she could see the white stripes along the badger’s back, then raised the pistol and took aim. Square your stance, she could hear her grandfather say. Align your sights. Take a breath and let it out naturally until it stops on its own. Then press the trigger.

  After a moment, she fired, and the pistol jumped in her hand as it discharged. Though muffled by the snowfall, the gunshot exploded through the forest and rang in her ears. The badger flopped forward into the snow, stretched out wide and as motionless as a rug. A fine mist of blood fanned out in the snow before it in a bright red spray.

  Kari lowered the pistol and approached the fallen animal. She looked down when she reached it, seeing a coin-sized hole in the center of its back. She picked it up by its hind legs and it flopped over, revealing a bloody cavity where the slug had exited its body. There didn’t seem to be much meat on it, but it seemed more substantial than Lance’s D-ration bars, and it probably tasted better, too.

  She carried the animal back in the direction of the camp, following her own wandering tracks. While making her way up the ridgeline, she imagined L
ance greeting her upon her return. She envisioned him grinning, shaking his head in a mixture of pride and disbelief. Barely able to contain her excitement, she had to keep herself from breaking into a run.

  Kari hesitated as she approached a frozen creek. She put down the badger, then looked at her image in the ice. Even though it was dark and the ice was blurry, she could make out her reflection, and she felt embarrassed for looking so plain. She slapped her cheeks until there was some color in them, then took off her hat and mussed her hair, trying to fashion it like Rita Hayworth’s. After a moment, she looked at her reflection again; she didn’t look anything like Hayworth, but she looked better than she had, and as good as she would given the circumstances.

  She picked up the badger and continued on her way, soon approaching the stand of trees where they’d made their camp. She spotted the fire first, its flames dancing in the wind. Then she saw Lance’s coat hanging from a branch near the fire, and the shape of Torden in the shadows. Lance, however, was nowhere to be seen.

  Kari dropped the badger and ran toward the fire, her heartbeat quickening. She entered the clearing and saw Lance, lying on his side with his back to her. Her first thought was that he’d been shot by a sniper or stabbed in the gut.

  After she approached him and knelt down, though, she heard his snoring, realizing with a mixture of disappointment and relief that he’d only fallen asleep.

  CHAPTER 17

  The first faint smudges of dawn began to emerge on the horizon. At the onset, they were barely perceptible, little more than smears on a lampblack canvas. Then they swelled into patches, and then shapes. Before long, they fused into a mottled grey tapestry, forcing the fading moon to retreat into the background.