The brew was perhaps a little bitter tasting, but it was first and foremost flavoured with various herbs. Ian liked the taste of it; he felt it running down through his throat, and though it might have been his imagination, he felt that it gave him a sense of calm and strength.
When he had consumed the lot he returned the bowl to Tula with the same solemnity that had reigned throughout.
In proper order, they placed their hands on his shoulders and welcomed him to the battle group of the chosen ones. “The A-team,” as Gabriel called them. Inu could barely reach him and Tova was so moved that she wasn’t entirely sure where Ian was standing. And Marco’s eyes glowed so warmly at Ian that he almost felt as though he could have gone to his death for the prince of the black halls.
Then they all waited in suspense. Marco took out a small package that was wrapped in thick material and fastened securely with a heavy cord. Ian took it and it was as though a shock went through him. It ran up his arms and spread through his entire body. His fingers sensed the shape of a small amphora-like bottle in the package, which could almost be concealed in his hand.
Ian Morahan would never forget that moment. It was perhaps the most gripping event of the entire strange journey to the Valley of the Ice People.
Everyone gave a great sigh of relief.
“That was certainly very beautiful,” said Sol. “But what do we do now? How do we get past those two monsters up there? I know you’re going to set up camp here, but what can the rest of us do in the meantime?”
Little Inu bowed, his hands stuck deep in his fur-covered sleeves. “Most honorable lady spirit with the beautiful eyes, it is not advisable that you do anything. The highly esteemed Targenor is busy gathering all the troops from the Demon’s Mountain. They are close by, and he and I have reached the conclusion that Kat and Kat-ghil and their spirits are the business of us, the Taran-gai. So all our shamans will together be attacking our two evil ancestors.”
“Very well,” murmured Tengel the Good.
“But not now,” said Inu. “At daybreak, when their spirits fade and pale, we will make an attempt. But they are very strong.”
“And you are very courageous,” smiled Marco, moved. “Would you like any of us to join you?”
Inu’s eyes ran across the group and paused at young Gabriel.
“This attack will be a great feat on the part of us shamans. We would appreciate having the narrator with us so that he can record our achievement for future generations.”
Tengel the Good nodded solemnly. “The battle at dawn must not be forgotten. Gabriel will join us and you, Ulvhedin, will watch over the boy’s life, won't you?”
“I will,” promised Ulvhedin, just as solemnly.
Gabriel sighed audibly. He noticed that Tova and Nataniel were observing him with concern, but they had no objections to the proposal.
I have a job to do, he thought bravely. I must try to register every tiny detail so that the memory of the courageous little Taran-gai will go down in history.
He sat down by himself and selected a suitable pen. For a moment he sat and pondered how he was going to formulate what he intended to say. In English you would typically start out by saying “To Whom It May Concern”, but he couldn’t think of an appropriate translation for those words. Finally he came up with, “To Whomsoever Finds These Books.”
He knew perfectly well that they might not return alive from the task before them. It was a heartrending thought, so tragic that he began to sniff a little. If anyone in the distant future were to come out to the mountains and find his dead body they would also discover the diaries where they could read the whole story. The story of how the spirits of the Ice People and the Taran-gai helped save the world from Tengel the Evil. It would be all right for people to know about it by then. Afterwards. Yes, because if humans managed to climb up there it would mean that humanity had been saved. For the sake of the rest of the world Gabriel and his brave friends had di- ... suffered death. That was how to say it.
He wiped his nose.
“We weren’t many,” he wrote. “There was Marco, of the black angels, and Nataniel who was also partly descended from them, and Tova who was one of the stricken and Ian, who was Irish, and me. My name is Gabriel Gard of the Ice People and I am twelve years old. I have been selected to write this chronicle, which may suddenly stop because I have been killed ...”
No, he was writing too much about himself now, that wouldn’t do.
He wrote all of this neatly on the front page of the book. He would have liked to mention many more names but there wasn’t enough room. Rune. And Halkatla. But he would talk about them in the books, so it would probably be all right.
The others called to him, and he got to his feet, staggering.
They settled down for the night. It wasn’t easy finding a comfortable place to sleep on the cold slope, but they had brought thin waterproof capes with them and warm clothes to wrap themselves in.
Gabriel lay awake listening to the sounds of the night. Only he, Tova, Ian and Marco had settled down to sleep: the others were keeping watch. He saw Ulvhedin’s brooding figure sitting just across from him, together with Tengel the Good and Sol. The others sat further off, talking quietly. Gabriel could discern Rune’s and Halkatla’s voices among them.
He had a suspicion that Marco wasn’t sleeping, that he didn’t need to rest, but that he wanted to demonstrate that he was of equal status as the mortals by lying down to sleep.
The wind howled mournfully over the hills around them. At one point, Gabriel heard a scream that went right through him and he looked up in alarm, as did Marco.
The scream came from one of the mountaintops. It was prolonged and frightening and it didn’t belong to the animal world. Nor did it belong to the human world. It came from an “ill-starred” spirit: that was the best way Gabriel in his sleepy state could put it.
It was all so unreal. Kat and Kat-ghil were spirits, and there were many other spirits surrounding them.
This fact made Gabriel giggle excitedly. But he stifled his giggling under his blanket so as not to provoke the spirits unnecessarily.
Had he managed to write everything down now? His fear of not performing his duty properly settled at the very pit of his stomach. But it wasn’t easy figuring out what was missing. He was doing his very best, he knew, and anyway it was much too dark now to continue writing. In order to help his recollection along for the following day he wrote: “Howl in the night.” But he wasn’t sure whether he had written the words on the paper or on the blanket.
Then he must have slept. It was probably the security of knowing that everyone was there that allowed him to do so. He thought he heard a distant, wild-sounding laughter coming from the mountaintops, but that laughter could just as well have been something he dreamt.
Once during the night he half-woke, and not knowing whether he was awake or still dreaming he thought he noticed bustling and stirring about him, there were so many there. He saw flashes of alarmed faces running past him and heard whispering voices giving each other orders.
He recognized several of the faces. Trond’s, for example: wasn’t he one of those who were to lead the main force? And Targenor and Dida. And wasn’t the place teeming with demons?
Then a terrible scream from the depths could be heard right near him. And in his dream, or whatever it was he was experiencing, it was clear that they were under attack. Because even though Tova still lay sleeping, Marco was no longer lying next to him.
Tula’s four demons fluttered past his head, battling someone whose name he didn’t know. He heard yelping and deep growling from the throats of predators and understood that the wolves of the black angels were in action. But then suddenly Marco was standing above him and swept his hand down over Gabriel’s eyes in