ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3)

by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT

  She led them into a hut lit by low lamps. A big man lay on a pallet by a low fire. A soft cloth covered part of his face, and his hands were wrapped in bandages, as were his feet. Another big bandage was wrapped around his leg.

  The man stared up at them in rank terror. “He is always afraid,” Runor told them softly. “His name is Gurd, and he lives in dread of us. We have all tried to tell him we mean him no harm, but he does not believe us. I cannot blame him. He has caused us great suffering and so he is certain we must hate him. Perhaps we should, but we cannot, not now.”

  “So that is Gurd,” Niva said in a hushed voice. “I have never seen him before. In all that time, I never saw him. That seems very strange.”

  Pila shook her head in pity. “To me, he is the hooded man,” she murmured. “He has done me much harm, too, but I understand why it is difficult to wish to harm him in return.”

  Durak nodded. “He is the man who shot me, but I cannot wish him harm, either, not now. He looks frozen with fear, like an animal caught in a trap.”

  “He is like that,” Runor agreed. “I think to be anywhere except with the Korg and the Leader is hard for him. Only with them did he feel secure.”

  Zena’s throat tightened as she looked down at Gurd. Had this pitiable man who lived in a perpetual state of terror killed Lief? And if he had, what had impelled him to commit such an appalling act?

  Runor seemed to read her thought. “Yes,” she said, “I believe he is the man who shot Lief, though I am not sure why.”

  She sighed. “He cannot do more harm now to anyone. He does not know it yet but he has lost his fingers and toes to the frost. It would be very hard for him to hold a knife or his bow again, or to fashion arrows for it. I do not think he will not walk again either. The wound on his leg festers badly, and his body is hot with the fever that rages inside him. It gets worse each day, though we have tried to control it.”

  Moving very slowly, so as not to frighten Gurd further, she knelt beside him and slipped the cloth on his face away, so that the terrible scarring was visible to all of them. Gently, she applied a soothing paste to his battered skin, then she covered the scarred side of his face again.

  “That is why he does not like to be seen,” she said. Zena heard deep pain in her voice, and wondered what it meant.

  “What happened to him?” Larak whispered, shocked.

  “That is what I must tell you,” Runor said, and now her voice trembled. “But first, he needs a potion to help with the pain.”

  Pressing her hand to Gurd’s forehead, she felt the heat that emanated from him, then ran soothing fingers across the covered face. It seemed to Zena that the man relaxed a little. She looked down at the terrified eyes, and knew that she too, could not wish him harm despite what he had done to Lief, to her. The realization brought her a measure of peace.

  A woman came with the potion, and Runor spooned it gently between Gurd’s lips. “It is all we can do, to try to keep him comfortable until he is gone,” she said quietly. “It will not be long now, I think.”

  “How did he come here, and why?” Durak asked.

  Runor shook her head. “We do not know. He hears what we say but he seems to understand only a little, and he never speaks.”

  “That is because the man who was his father beat him on the throat when he was young,” Pila said, surprising those who did not know. “I heard Krone speak of it.”

  Brulet nodded. “I heard Krone say that too, and told the others the story. His father was very cruel to him.”

  Runor’s eyes clouded with pity. She had not known that. Would the knowledge have stayed her hand? She shook her head. She had been too angry to think.

  “So he too became cruel.” Niva sighed. “I wonder why he killed Lief and tried to kill Durak,” she said, voicing all their thoughts.

  Unexpectedly, Mara answered. “He loved the Leader, so he might have hated anyone who harmed him. I saw them once together, near the hut they built. I had gone there because I wanted to know more about them. I saw Gurd look up at the Leader, and there was adoration his eyes. And when the Leader looked back at him, I saw kindness in his face. It may be that the Leader was the only man who had ever been kind to Gurd.

  “I saw his scarred face too, and I was afraid,” she added with a shudder. “I was sure he would kill me if he knew I had seen it, so I stole away.”

  Zena winced. Lief had seen the scarred face too, all those years ago. Was that why Gurd had killed him? It seemed a pitifully inadequate reason to kill. But perhaps for a mute and unloved man who had never known kindness except from the Leader, it was enough. Probably too, Gurd had wanted to exact revenge on anyone who had contributed to the Leader’s downfall. Durak had taken Rofina away from him, and Lief had helped her to save the infant. She would probably have been next. Lief must have realized that at the end, must have been trying to warn her that even though Korg and the Leader were dead, she was still in danger.

  Durak’s urgent whisper interrupted her thoughts. “Look! He heard us speaking of the Leader, and…” He broke off, uncertain how to describe what he saw.

  Zena looked down again. The dying man’s eyes were pleading with them. Did he want to hear more of the Leader?

  Impulsively, Zena knelt down beside him. “The Leader cares very much for you and he is grateful for all you have done for him,” she told the anguished man, and saw relief come into his face.

  Pila knelt on his other side and felt his wrist. “He is very near death,” she said softly. “Have you anything of the Leader’s, a piece of clothing perhaps, that we could give him? I think that would comfort him.”

  “I will go to the hut they lived in,” Mara answered quickly. “Some of his clothing is still there.” Hular ran off with her, and soon they returned with a cloak, the one the Leader had worn when he spoke of the Great Spirit.

  Zena put the cloak in Gurd’s bandaged hands. He clasped it eagerly, then he brought it to his nose to smell it. His eyes lit up with happiness as he breathed it in.

  When he looked up at them again, they saw confusion in his face, as if he sensed that they wanted to help him and did not know what to make of kindness from anyone but the Leader.

  His eyes shifted back to Zena’s face, and he watched her expectantly, waiting to hear more of the Leader. But what else could she say? Did he know the Leader was dead? She could not tell him that.

  Perhaps that was not what Gurd wanted to hear anyway, she realized. He was dying, and what he needed now was the comfort of knowing that he would be with the Leader again soon.

  “The Leader is coming for you,” she said slowly and clearly. “He will be with you soon. You have only to wait, to close your eyes and wait, and then you will be with the Leader. He is waiting for you.”

  A kind of radiance came into Gurd’s scarred face now, and his lips moved as if he were trying to smile. Then a great sigh escaped him, and he closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Gurd died later that day. Wrapping him in the Leader’s cloak, they buried him beside the hut in the woods where they had lived together. When the brief ceremony was over, Runor led them back to the clearing. She looked so agonized that Zena wanted to take the old wise one into her arms to comfort her, but Runor’s closed face and bowed shoulders kept her from doing it.

  Runor began to speak as soon as they were seated, as if she could not wait now to get the words out, be free of them. At first, her voice was low and uncertain but as she talked it took on the timbre of the vibrant woman she had been when she had first met the tall young man with the pale hair and brilliant eyes.

  “He was called Mordor then,” she told them. “It was a long time ago, before Rofina was born. He and Korg and Gurd came to our village and stayed here for almost a full cycle of the seasons. They were very young , Korg and Gurd only just past boyhood, Mordor a young man.

  “He was so beautiful,” Runor said wistfully, unable not to feel again the pull of Mordor, the magnetism that had so charmed her. �
�He drew me in, with the hands that stroked me, with his magnificent voice, for even then it was a joy to hear, with the words of wisdom that were not really wisdom but seemed as if they were, with words of love I believed though I should not have, should have seen what he really was. But by then he had pulled my heart into his. I loved him, desired him, could think of nothing but him. I wanted only the beautiful young man I saw before me, and I would not allow myself to see what lay behind the beauty, the resonant voice that made all seem well.”

  “Korg was there, but we seldom saw him. He went to a clearing in the woods where he taught himself to dance, the wondrous dances you saw. He could twist in the air, almost fly sometimes. I watched him sometimes, though he did not see me. I thought he was fighting demons in his dances, even when they were beautiful to behold, so graceful it was hard to believe he was merely a man. But savagery was in his dancing, too, in the way he moved, in the expressions on his face. The desire to wound others was strong in him already. But even more he wanted to control them. For that, he learned to use herbs. I think he believed from the start that he could make people do as he wished with his potions, especially women.

  “And when he was not in the woods studying his herbs, perfecting his dances, he watched us, watched me. He knew all that was in my heart, though I knew little of what was in his. He knew what was in his brother’s heart too, when I did not. That was his power. I did not trust Korg even then, dared not trust him. And yet, there was good in him too. I saw that many times.

  “I seldom saw Gurd either, though he was always nearby. He was a graceless boy, already as broad as he was tall, who stayed mostly in the woods, as if uncertain of his welcome. He wanted only to serve Mordor, look after him, to make mead for him and bring it to him. Mordor was always a lover of mead who drank more than he should. I thought his need for it would pass as he grew older. It did not.”

  Runor closed her eyes, thinking, assessing. “Was there ever goodness in Mordor or was he too twisted from the start?” she asked aloud, though they all knew she did not expect an answer. “I thought then that there was. I was captivated by his words of love, entranced by his vision of a world free of evil.”

  A look of intense pain came into Runor’s face. “And all the time the evil was in his heart, telling him to do things no man should do, but I would not see it. Korg knew, though. He knew there were two Mordors; the one of the golden words, the one who committed unspeakable deeds.

  “Once, Mordor spoke of his mother, of how she loved mead, loved men even more. She took them into her hut and into her body, one after the other. Her lust for them was so great that she wanted them day and night. She shouted at her sons to leave her so she could indulge in her pleasures. If they did not leave quickly enough she dragged them into the woods and made them walk in circles until they were lost, then she left them there to wander alone in the darkness, hungry and afraid, until finally they found their way back. She was the same with mead. She drank that day and night too, until she fell into a stupor. And when she awoke, she began her cycle again, the men, the drink…

  “Mordor hated her, but Korg’s hatred was stronger, harsher. He hated what his mother did, hated the mead she drank, hated her lust for men most of all. In the end, he came to hate all women, all lust, all mating. But Mordor was like his mother. Even as he hated her, he did as she had done. He drank as she did, mated as she did, with every woman he saw. This too I did not believe, or did not want to know. I think he had probably mated with every woman in the area before I finally believed.

  “And then the voices began to come, the voices in his mind that told him to kill witches lest all his people be destroyed. They tormented him, made him do what no man should do, turned him into a man I did not know, a man no one should know. Then, even I was forced to see the danger, the horrors that would come if the voices were not controlled.

  “And so Korg took him away. He took Gurd away too, but not before…” Runor broke off abruptly, unable, or unwilling, to finish her thought.

  Silence fell then, a silence so charged with tension no one breathed until Runor spoke again. Now her voice was harsh with loathing, for the Leader, for herself.

  “I had heard stories of what Mordor had done, but I did not believe them until I saw for myself. I was visiting a friend in another village when a girl ran into the clearing with her mother seeking safety. She was hardly more than a child, and she was terrified, unable to speak at first, she was so frightened. When she was calmer she told us that Mordor had raped her and called her a witch. She had felt his hands at her throat but then her mother came and screamed, and Mordor ran.

  “The men set out to look for him and bring him before the council, but I found him first. He had returned to our village and was outside my hut, waiting for me, as if nothing had happened. I could see no awareness of the terrible thing he had done on his face. Instead, he wanted just to go on as we had before.

  I was outraged. I told him that it was wrong and cruel to take a girl by force, especially one who was no more than a child. He looked at me and laughed, and came closer to pull me down by the fire, began to stroke me. When I resisted, would not let him draw me to the ground, his face changed. I saw fury in it because I did not obey him. Dragging me down by force, he pinned me against the ground, jumped on top of me and raped me. There was disdain in his eyes, and anger. When he had finished, he gestured to Gurd, who had been watching us from the trees. Before I could even rise, Gurd ran over and raped me too. He made no noise at all, not even a groan, but when he rolled away, he was smiling. He had enjoyed what he had done.”

  Runor’s lips trembled as she said the next words. “Rage possessed me. I grabbed the pot of food heating on the fire and threw it into Gurd’s face. A sound came from him then, a strangled sound like that made by a mute animal when it is caught by a predator and cannot escape.”

  Someone stifled a gasp, then all was quiet again. Runor was silent, too, gathering her strength. Her listeners waited, hardly breathing, until her voice came again.

  “That is how Gurd came by his scars,” she said finally, sounding like Runor as she was today. “And that is why Teran was hit over the head so hard she lost her memory, why she was abducted and raped, why Lief was killed, why Durak was attacked. All those things happened because I threw a pot of boiling liquid into Gurd’s face. May the Goddess forgive me, Zena too. Especially Zena, for she has suffered most because of my unthinking act.”

  Zena opened her mouth to speak, but Runor held up a restraining hand. “I must finish now,” she said, “while I still have the strength.”

  “Korg took them away quickly,” she resumed. “He was angry but even more he was afraid. He knew what the men would do to Mordor if they found him.

  “I did not see them again for many years, not until Rofina was almost grown and Mara a child. And when they did return, Mordor no longer existed. Korg had turned him into the Leader, had turned his voices into the words of the Great Spirit warning of great dangers if his proclamations were not obeyed, his hatred of his mother into the rules of mating that limited women to one mate, chosen for them by the Leader. Even Mordor’s endless lust, his ever-increasing desire for young girls, was absorbed into the rules that told the Leader he must initiate all the young women before any other man could touch them.

  “In its way,” Runor said pensively, “it was brilliant. She sighed. “It was a shock, too. When the Leader greeted me as they came into the village, I saw no recognition in his face. He did not know me, had no memory of our time together. He did not know who Rofina was either, only that she was a beautiful young woman. Why that was so I still do not know, but I was glad. I wanted no more of Mordor.

  “Korg knew who I was, though. He knew who Rofina was, too. When he learned that I was the wise one for the village, I saw his eyes grow cold. He gestured at the pot of food I had nearby, then at Rofina, then at Gurd, hiding in the trees. Even without words, I knew what he was telling me. If I did not cease to speak of the Great Mother,
the Goddess, he would tell Gurd to do to Rofina what I had done to him. Gurd would have done it gladly. He too knew who I was, and he hated me more than any other person.

  Runor’s eyes closed, and when she spoke again the agony in her voice was hard to hear. “I could not let them do that to Rofina… I could not… She had suffered so much already, and she was so beautiful, so innocent, like a half-grown child. How could I let them destroy her completely? I could not, could not bear the thought…

  “And so Korg destroyed me, destroyed all that I had tried to do after they had left to make up for the willful blindness of a foolish young woman. Except Mara. I was determined to save Mara. I could not let her live the rest of her life with bitterness in her soul, as I had lived all those years. That was when I knew I must kill Mordor, so Mara could not harbor thoughts of revenge. Already, I had made a pact with the Goddess. She had given me the picture of what I must do, but I knew that in doing it I must forfeit my life. It was a bargain well worth making.

  “I also knew that in killing Mordor, I would also kill Korg. Once Rofina was dead, he had no power over me, but once Mordor was dead, he would have no power over any of the Mother People. Without Mordor, without the Great Spirit, Korg had nothing. I had not thought of what the Leader’s death would do to Gurd. I should have thought of that, but I did not.”

  Runor laughed bitterly. “It was not hard to do what the Goddess had told me to do. I simply waited for the Leader to return. I knew he wanted Rofina back and would come for her. I was sure too, that Korg had not told him Rofina was dead. Korg knew as well as I did that the knowledge would devastate him. Mordor did not know Rofina was his daughter, but he cared very much for her even as he abused her, though I still do not understand how that can be.

  “And then he came, as I knew he would. I was sure too that the waters would rise, had felt the disaster looming as one knows a storm will come, and seen it in the Mother’s picture. That is why I sent everyone to the circle of stones where they would be safe and stayed alone to wait for the Leader. I had mead and food for him, but when he spoke of Zena, said that she was a witch and must be killed, I realized that the voices had returned. So I told him that I was the real witch, the leader of all the witches, that all others would lose their power when I was dead.