by H. S. Norup
He circled Tessa widely, sniffing, ready to scamper at any sign of danger. Not daring to approach, in case it kicked him with those clanking feet, he called its name.
Three times he called, before it reacted. The light from Tessa’s head travelled over the snow until he felt the slight tingle of its feeble warmth.
“Oh. Gawion. Where. Were. You?” Tessa said, between bouts of the weird gurgles.
“Where is the elf hunter?”
“In the village. We haven’t found Maeg yet.”
“Why did you bring it here?” Gawion spoke with Papa’s sternness.
“The elf hunter? Here? No. You misunderstand. That’s Felix. He’s helping us. He was, anyway…” Mountain springs streamed down Tessa’s cheeks.
Perhaps trusting a human was naive, but he could tell this sadness was real. Gawion lumbered closer.
“You thought I’d brought the elf hunter? To capture you? You don’t trust me?” Tessa’s speech ended with another howl, as piercing as that of a vixen he had once heard, after one of her cubs had been killed by a human vehicle.
“No, no. I do trust you,” he said, “Only my father was with me and… and we thought the… the metal chain.” It seemed silly, now, to have been scared of this baby human.
“…And my Oma’s in the hospital and her heart’s broken, and I don’t know what to do.” It gurgled again.
He stroked one of its plaited side-beards. Slowly the streams became trickling springs and the only sounds were wet sniffs from its pointy nose.
Tessa got up, wiping its eyes.
“The elf hunter is staying in Felix’s house,” it told him. “That’s why I needed his help. Will you come with me?”
Gawion hesitated. They had talked about bringing him to a shed. Was this all part of a plan?
“If we run, we might catch Felix before he gets home.”
“I have a better idea.” The faster they caught this Felix, the farther they would be from the village. “If you leave the metal feet here, I can carry you.”
With one pull at a strap by each ankle, Tessa let the metal feet drop to the ground.
“Cool! I don’t remember last time you carried me.”
When he scooped Tessa up, it gave a small shriek. Its warmth burned in his arms. Gawion leapt forward to gain initial speed, then surfed over the rippled surface, remembering to lift his toes. The bundle he carried made new bubbling noises, with no sadness to them.
Outside the earth mounds, Tessa directed him east of the mountain stream where he had just been. He hoped Papa was far away by now.
Near an illuminated human habitat, a light bounced ahead of them, and Tessa called, “Feeeliiix!”
“What?” The beam swirled towards them. The other human stood transfixed until Gawion stopped next to it with a sideways skid.
It gaped so much he could see the human’s single row of teeth, its raspberry-coloured tongue, and, worst of all, the inside of its throat. It really ought to hide that view behind a beard. Gawion averted his eyes.
Tessa slid down from his arms, saying, “You still think I’m loony?”
“What… It’s… I… You’re real,” it sputtered, and finally closed its mouth.
Perhaps it was a less intelligent human than Tessa. It was certainly not scary.
“Sorry, Tessa,” it said.
“Gawion, meet Felix,” Tessa continued. “Felix, put your key chain away, it’s made with iron, and barbegazi don’t like iron.”
Still staring at him, Felix folded the frightening metal chain and hid it in a flap in its clothes.
“Felix lives right there.” Tessa pointed at the glare behind the trees. “I found a map and some iron tools in the elf hunter’s room, and I’m sure he’s got Maeg in his van.”
Van? Gawion ran through a list of meanings for the word. A bird’s wing. A vanguard. None of them made sense.
“May I ask what a van is?”
“It’s a big car. A vehicle. Look,” Felix said, and pulled a strange flat image out of a pocket. “This one’s white, with tinted windows so you can’t see what’s inside.”
“I see,” he said, rather relieved that the cousin could speak in full sentences and keep its mouth reasonably closed. “And where is this van?”
“We don’t know,” Tessa explained. “We’ve been searching all afternoon.”
“My father and I can continue the search. But extracting Maeg from a metal vehicle might require your assistance.”
“If you find the van, we’ll think of a way of getting your sister out,” Tessa said.
“Just come and get us. Throw something at my window to wake us up,” Felix said. “I’ll show you.”
Both humans turned off their lights and ran to the last tree before the house, a huge pine. They crept under its prickly branches. Gawion followed them.
Felix pointed. “The window on the corner is my room.” It rummaged in the darkness and found one of the hard ovals Liel loved to play with. “Can you hit it with a pine cone?”
It was not a snowball, but Gawion and Maeg had often thrown them at each other, whenever the snow was too wonderfully cold to make snowballs. He took the oval, crept out of the den under the tree, brought the thing back over his shoulder and sent it off with a spin.
It hit the dark square with a clank.
Felix whistled two shrill tones. It sounded almost as if it whistled “hot glacier”, which made very little sense. He was about to ask Felix what it meant, when a human appeared by the entrance to the habitat. Artificial light spilt out on its snowy hair and new-snow coloured garments. Gawion ducked back under the sheltering twigs. The human rounded the corner, and stared at the dark square Gawion’s oval had hit. Then it turned towards the mountains, towards the trees, towards them.
“It’s him,” Felix whispered.
Tessa leant forward.
“I think I’ve seen him before.”
Gawion had seen that particular human before. Several times, in fact, over the past decades. He had walloped it once. Now he wished he had never dug it out of the avalanche. He knew it by the tilt of its shoulders and the length of its legs, but most of all he knew it by its scent. A scent that now had a distinct flavour of Maeg.
“The elf hunter,” he hissed.
“I thought he was much younger,” Tessa whispered.
The elf hunter turned back, climbed up to the entrance, and disappeared into the dwelling.
“No,” Felix said, “that’s him. That’s Professor Bahne.”
FRIDAY, 30TH DECEMBER
—26—
Gawion stood on an outcrop in the forest above the village, gazing up at the Great Bear in the sky. It hung upside down directly above Polaris.
Papa ought to whistle soon. Gawion could not wait to speak with him. Papa would be astonished, when he learnt how Gawion’s human friends had tracked down the elf hunter, and worked out where it kept Maeg captured.
Waves of heat prickled under his soles, when he remembered how the elf hunter had just appeared out of nowhere, while he stood next to that big tree, exposed. He had wanted to rush after it, into the human habitat, and force the monster to reveal where it held his sister.
Tessa had seemed to be as shocked as he was, while Felix had taken charge and held Gawion back.
“Professor Bahne?” Tessa had repeated. “But…”
“Professor Bahne is the elf hunter, and he’s here. That means Maeg’s here. Somewhere. We’ll find her,” Felix had said, patting his shoulder, calming him.
Tessa’s eyebrows had scrunched together, rippling its forehead.
“Take the printout. And wake us when you find the van.” Felix had rolled the strange flat image of the vehicle into a hollow cylinder, and Gawion had dropped it in his beard pocket.
Tessa had nodded slowly, but still said nothing, while he agreed with Felix to return the following evening, if they did not find the van during the night.
When Gawion had set off, bouncing from foot to foot up through the forest,
there had been a new lightness to his step. Felix had made it sound as if it was only a matter of time before they found Maeg. Perhaps it was. They only needed to locate the vehicle. Papa would be so relieved! He might even admit that he had been wrong to doubt Gawion’s judgement.
Finally, Papa whistled. He was in the same forest as Gawion, farther down in the valley, and it did not take long to find him. But the moment Gawion said he had talked to the two humans, Papa exploded in a stream of hissed reprimands. Rebukes for not going straight home and for talking to humans and dogs segued into a general scolding for trusting humans.
“I suppose it is our own fault for living in a place with no other children,” he hissed.
“I am not a child,” Gawion said, before he told Papa about the elf hunter, and showed him the image of the new-snow-coloured vehicle.
Papa frowned and shook his head, muttering: “A human has abducted your sister, and you want me to trust human children?”
At least he did not send Gawion home.
Staying by the edge of the forest, they glided past villages and empty fields, far down into the inhabited valley. They stopped and sneaked closer to investigate, whenever they saw clusters of human vehicles. But their search yielded no result. The only vehicle they discovered that resembled the flat image was as dark as a starless night.
When dawn broke, and they returned to the cave, Gawion’s hope of finding Maeg had shrunk to something smaller than a blackberry at the bottom of a gorge.
Throughout the morning, Maman kept nagging him. And Liel, with her constant background chant of “never, ever trust a human”, really got on his nerves.
“You know nothing of humans,” he finally shouted, and kicked the big ice cooler, knocking a third off it. “Potzblitz! I cannot wait to get my own cave. I am sick of—”
Papa whistled so piercingly then that lumps of snow fell from the ceiling, and the tunnel entrance to the cave collapsed.
“You can build one right now,” he bellowed. “And take your sesquicentennial hormones with you.”
Seething with anger, Gawion marched into the resting cave.
“And this!” Papa sent the piece of broken-off ice cooler spinning across the floor after him. Gawion jumped out of the way, and it continued into the soft snow, making a barbegazi-foot-deep hole.
“Thanks for the help,” he muttered.
Behind him, Maman said, “Oh, Aeglosben, the humans might have heard that whistle.”
For the rest of the day, Gawion worked hard. He started by digging a long, long tunnel from the resting cave. Next came his very own exit. He needed to get rid of the excess snow, and he shovelled it up to the surface with his feet. Papa surely had not considered that he would now be able to leave unnoticed, he thought, when he broke through the surface into a downpour of wonderful white pellets.
Every time Gawion scooped powder snow out, he hoped to see the sky had darkened, so he could return to Tessa and Felix.
—27—
Aunt Annie’s anger evaporated while they helped her slice cucumbers, and carry jugs of milk and juice, for the breakfast buffet. She believed their hasty explanation of wanting to get to training early, and they left when the first guest appeared in the breakfast room.
Outside, only a single pine cone lay below Felix’s window—Gawion had not returned. Hidden behind the same large pine tree that had concealed them last night, they folded printed photos of a van similar to Bahne’s.
“I still can’t believe Professor Bahne might be the elf hunter,” Tessa said.
“Might be?” Felix crammed the printouts into his pocket. “The evidence is clear.”
“Hmmm. And I can’t believe you never told me he was the skier in that avalanche.”
“And I can’t believe you never told me who’d written that book.” Felix mimicked her voice in a mocking tone.
Tessa’s helmet dangled from her arm, but she wore her normal boots. Her ski boots lay by her side, unbuckled, ready to put on if Bahne appeared in his skiing gear.
“Sure you don’t want me to come?” Felix asked, for the millionth time.
Tessa nodded.
“Just tell Coach I have a stomach bug, and hand out those photos. Promise the finder a full baking tray of Aunt Annie’s brownies.” That ought to get their teammates interested in searching for the van. “Anyway, you need the training more than me.” She winked.
Felix punched her shoulder.
“Text me,” he said, before picking up his skis and setting off.
She waited impatiently, stamping her feet and blowing fake smoke signals in the frozen air. Guests stumbled out of the house, balancing skis and poles and children, and slid towards the ski bus. No matter how many times she turned it over in her head, Tessa couldn’t grasp that she’d been deceived. When no one except Oma believed her, Bahne’s book had given her hope. She’d planned to write to him, trust him with her knowledge of the barbegazi. And she refused to believe she’d been hoodwinked. There had to be another explanation.
When Bahne finally left the house in his white outfit, he wore normal boots, and he didn’t bring skis. He stared at the mountains surrounding Schöngraben before he turned and strode down the driveway. Tessa dumped the helmet next to her boots and skis, and followed him.
After crossing the road, he paused by the bus stop. Tessa hid behind the bustle of people waiting for the bus to the lifts. Before he walked on, he glanced back over his shoulder. She ducked, although he wouldn’t recognize her if he saw her in the crowd.
No one looked less like a crazy off-piste skier than the professor. In fact, he resembled an elderly gentleman, a village doctor, in one of Oma’s TV series. He certainly didn’t look like a barbegazi abductor. And maybe he wasn’t one. Maybe they’d come to all the wrong conclusions. What evidence did they really have? A scent in the air, detected only by Gawion. An iron chain and an old map—part of the research for his latest book, perhaps.
Without looking back, Bahne turned down Tessa’s own street. Shadowing him, she tried to act like a tourist. A boring grey jacket and round retro sunglasses from Aunt Annie’s stuff-guests-might-need closet served as her disguise.
Bahne strode right past her house, with its unlit fairy lights around the black windows, and turned left down a bend in the road. Her stomach knotted. Would Oma be having heart surgery today? She crossed her fingers on both hands, whispering, “Please, let Oma be okay.”
By the garage, she stopped and peeked round the corner. The street turned a sharp left, downhill, and ended in the small parking lot by the Matthis Bed and Breakfast. Expecting Bahne to come driving up the hill, Tessa stayed hidden next to the garage. She checked the time on her phone and inspected the photo Felix had sent of the van.
If only she could find another explanation. What if someone else had also been in the avalanche? What if Professor Bahne was hunting the elf hunter? Perhaps he was another secret barbegazi protector. So secret, even the barbegazi didn’t know of his existence.
After five minutes, Tessa traipsed back to the corner. With nowhere to hide, she practised things to say if Bahne confronted her on the road. Things like “I’m staying at Matthis’s. I forgot my lift card.” It was stupid. He didn’t know her, and he had no reason to confront her.
Six cars, blanketed in snow, stood in the parking lot. No vans. Bahne had disappeared.
Was he in the house? Had he booked two rooms? Not likely. Mrs Matthis would’ve told the whole village, if an even remotely interesting guest stayed with them. Where had he gone? If she’d lost him, Felix would be really impressed…
Then she saw a white figure, hurrying along the trodden trail that crossed the snow-covered fields. She hid behind a low wall, got her binoculars out and had an instant close-up view of the frozen valley. No ray of sun reached the bottom of it between early December and the end of January, and the air remained still and icy during those months. It was the perfect place to stash something in sub-zero temperatures.
Bahne crossed the main
road and vanished down the hiking trail. Tessa clambered over the wall, and sprinted after him over the fields and across the road. Half-skidding, she followed the steep trail under the railway overpass, to the wooden bridge crossing the river.
The track up to the sawmill was partly hidden by towering stacks of planks covered in fluttering tarpaulins. On the far side of the bridge, the cross-country ski trail ran alongside the rushing water and a steep hiking route led up into the forest. Above her, a train whooshed by.
There was no sign of the professor.
Paw prints and footprints and markings from ski poles surrounded the trail. Pine needles lay scattered on some, and others had a half-erased, day-old look to them. She chose a set of fresh footprints to follow, and jogged towards the sawmill.
When she passed the dark office building, she paused to glance at a closed-for-the-holidays sign, with a sprig of holly attached to it, on the main door, before she continued through the maze of sheds and silent workshops. Between stacks of timber, Tessa caught a glimpse of movement. She sneaked along the heaps of wood, until she saw it. A van, exactly like the one in the photo, was parked behind an old shed, and, hidden by long rafters covered in snow, she crept closer. Close enough to hear a muffled, deep voice and metallic clanks.
What was Bahne doing in there? She wanted to text Felix, but her phone had no reception in the sheltered valley.
Try as she might, Tessa failed to find an innocent explanation for Bahne’s van being parked in this remote location. Had it been any other vehicle, she could’ve imagined the professor confronting the elf hunter inside. But it wasn’t. It was Bahne inside Bahne’s van in a very cold, isolated place, and Tessa finally stopped doubting he was guilty.
One of the upright doors at the back of the van opened. Bahne crawled out backwards, saying, “—get you to talk,” before he slammed the door. Orange lights blinked when he locked the van with a beep. Striding past Tessa on the other side of the rafters, he mumbled to himself about some kind of rack.
