Don’t be afraid of the dark.
I keep my eyes shut tight, too scared to move or speak.
The voice whispers again. I know you’re afraid, but the darkness is your friend. I am your friend.
The words are coming from inside my head. Only they’re not words; it’s a feeling, an impression, which I am putting into words. The voice belongs to me, but the thoughts do not. My brain throbs as I try to make sense of it all.
Who are you?
Karina. I’ve been trying to make you see me. I’ve come because you’re in danger.
I nod, aware of the absurdity of answering my own thoughts.
You must go to the tree. The Norns will help you put things right.
I can’t go out there! Something inside me shrinks with fear. Where is Mormor? Why isn’t she speaking to me?
Your grandmother is trapped at the tree, tormented by her regret. She died knowing she had failed to convince your mother to water it, and she feared that no one would.
My stomach wrenches. What do you mean, trapped? Can’t you help her?
You are the only one who can save her, Marta. You must go to the tree and get the dead back to the underworld.
But how? I can’t! The draugr will rip me to shreds, just like Olav and Yrsa!
Go to the tree. Don’t fear the Norns.
For a while there is only silence and I wonder if she has gone. When she speaks again, her voice is urgent. Blow out the candles and keep quiet. Quick!
Something touches my forehead and my eyes open. The room is on its side, the doll next to me, lifeless.
‘Martha? You fainted.’ Stig helps me to sit.
‘She wants me to blow out the candles.’
‘Who?’
‘My great-grandmother. She spoke to me through the doll.’
‘What? How?’ Stig nudges the doll with his foot and it flips onto its back. Seeing it move again makes me feel queasy, but I don’t think Karina meant to scare me.
Mormor warned never to leave a candle burning because it might attract a draugr. A gasp escapes me. What have we done? I wanted to stop the faces forming, but we’ve lit a beacon for the creature – we’ve drawn it to us!
I turn to Stig. ‘Quick, we have to blow out the candles.’
He gives me an exasperated look. ‘But you said the darkness helps them to form.’
‘I know, but the light attracts the draugr!’
The idea of being in the dark with the dead sends a chill through me, but what choice is there? At least I have Stig; I’m not on my own. Whatever’s in the cabin hasn’t hurt us, but if the draugr comes … My head sways as I get to my feet.
I take a deep breath and blow out the nearest candle.
Stig’s eyes widen in disbelief. I walk around, blowing out more candles. Instantly the shadows become darker. Something rises to my left: the vague outline of shoulders and a head. I turn and gasp as another figure looms up behind me.
Stig catches my arm and spins me around. Fear and confusion flash across his face. ‘Martha, don’t.’
‘Just trust me, Stig. Please.’
Gandalf snarls at the door. Bending down, I hold his head in my hands and peer into his eyes. ‘I know you’re afraid, but we have to be quiet. We can’t make a sound.’
He licks my hand, and for a moment I’m convinced he actually understands. He jumps onto the sofa and curls up, and I pat his head. ‘Good boy. I love you, Gandalf.’
I straighten and see Stig standing in the kitchen, surrounded by shadowy figures. My body tenses. For an awful moment he seems like one of them. One of the dead.
Two lamps are flickering on the table. I point at them. ‘Please, Stig.’
He shakes his head, refusing to move.
I shut off their flames, plunging us further into darkness. Only one candle remains – on the shelf above the fire. I open the stove door and Stig grabs my shoulder. His jumper brushes me and I get a flash of his fear and powerlessness. Poor Stig can’t see what’s there; he can’t help or protect me. I have to be strong for us both.
I squeeze his hand and he pleads at me with his eyes.
‘I know it seems crazy, but I know what I’m doing.’
Stig moves back with a tiny nod. I throw ash over the embers, then take the last candle and step into the middle of the room. The air is icy and thick with shadows. A noise like rushing water fills my ears as shapes manifest in the darkness: a pair of bare feet with no legs; someone’s broad shoulders. The sound vibrates faster and a hand materialises in mid-air, just inches from my face. I jump back, terrified it will touch me. Shadows reach out from every side. I struggle to breathe.
‘What’s happening?’ cries Stig.
I look at the wavering flame of the candle in my hand. Don’t fear the darkness, Martha. Don’t fear the darkness. Don’t fear the …
The flame goes out, extinguished by an unseen force. I drop the candle and blackness devours the room. Stig pulls me onto the sofa and we sit huddled together, his arms around me. I can’t stop shivering; it’s like the cold is burrowing into my bones.
I hide my face in Stig’s hair, then peep out and gasp. The air above our heads glows and pulsates. A group of women stand around us, shielding us in a bubble of light. I recognise Karina’s long wavy hair instantly. Next to her is the tiny lady I saw in the photo – Gerd with her feathered cloak, and Trine. I don’t know them all, but I know they are the women who went before me. My family.
A dozen voices chant a hushed lullaby. I don’t understand what they mean, but the tone of their words is reassuring.
‘Ikke vær redd.’
‘Familien din er her.’
‘Vi er her for å hjelpe.’
‘What’s happening?’ Stig whispers. ‘Is there something here, in the room?’
My mouth is too dry to speak. The light from the women starts to fade – I wish I could see his face, but all I can make out is the shape of his head and the glint of his eyes.
Karina taps a finger to her lips.
‘Shh,’ I whisper to Stig.
Everything is silent. The wind has died to nothing, as if the world no longer exists. Even the darkness holds its breath.
Shuffling outside. Then a low, breathy snort.
Stig’s arms tighten around me.
Thump.
The sound of laboured footsteps.
Thump.
It’s climbing the steps!
The bubble of light around us shimmers and changes, partly obscuring the room.
The ghostly women are still here, but their faces are blank. They have no features at all.
A single, heavy blow at the door.
I stiffle a sob.
Pots and pans rattle as something slams against the outside of the kitchen wall.
It’s moving, fast. Circling us. Trying to find a way in.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Coming from above.
I scream as deafening noise thunders above my head. The banging gets louder and faster, as if the creature is drumming its heels on the roof.
The noise goes on and on. The terrible sound is more than I can bear. I press my hands to my ears. My heart feels like it will explode.
Stig cries out, ‘Kjære Gud, få det til å stoppe!’
And then it stops. Maybe the creature heard him.
Gandalf whines and I lay a hand on him, every muscle in my body tense. My chest heaves and falls. There’s a sound of creaking wood and then the bottom chunk of the door is ripped away. I stare at the silvery moonlight that floods through the gap, the only light in the room.
Suddenly, blackened fingers appear.
I clamp my hand to my mouth and fight a scream.
Click. Click. Click.
Curved black claws tap the wood as fingers scrabble at the floor. Scraps of flesh hang from them, the bone white in the moonlight. Stig grabs me tight, as if he sees it too.
The bubble of light around us shimmers and expands. I can no longer see the women, just a swirling vortex of light. The air turns into a transparent metallic liquid that reaches out, filling the room.
The creature’s fingers touch it and hold still. Slowly the claws retreat, scraping the floor with a sickening screech.
Please don’t come back. Please don’t come back. Please don’t come back.
I stare at the door, too afraid to move.
My pulse races as I count the seconds. There is no noise. Just the cry of the wind.
‘Has it gone?’ whispers Stig.
Karina reappears and takes her finger from her lips, then nods.
A shudder runs through me. ‘Yes, it’s gone.’
A moment later the bubble retracts. The shadows become denser and the women reappear. More faces emerge, all with glowing black eyes. Most are old and wrinkled, but some are about my age. Each one smiles, as if they’ve been waiting to say hello. The apparitions begin to flicker and fade, like they no longer have the strength to form. I search the crowd, desperately hoping to see Mormor, but she isn’t among them. If there was any way she could come back to see me, I know she would.
Karina must be telling the truth: Mormor is trapped at the tree. The thought of going outside makes me feel sick, but I can’t leave her out there alone, knowing she needs me. I have to help her.