“Let the horse go! There are two horses up there in the forest. I can take one of those instead. Just let it go!”
You grow strong when you’re angry, I’ve always heard, and in that way you could say that Park helped Jonathan save the mare.
But afterward he said to Park:
“You blockhead, you, do you think I’d save your life so that you could steal my horse? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
Perhaps Park was ashamed, I don’t know. He said nothing and he never even asked who we were or anything. He just clambered up the slope with his poor mare, and soon afterward he and the whole troop disappeared.
We made a campfire above Karma Falls that evening, and I’m sure no campfire in any day or in any world has burned on a campsite like the one where we lit ours.
It was a dreadful place, terrible and beautiful, like no other place in heaven or on earth, I think; the mountains and the river and the waterfall, it was all too vast, all of it. Again, I felt as it I were in a dream, and I said to Jonathan:
“This can’t be real. It’s like something out of an ancient dream.”
We were standing on the bridge then, the bridge that Tengil had had built over the chasm separating the two countries, Karmanyaka, and Nangiyala, on either side of the river of The Ancient Rivers.
The river was rushing along deep down in the depths below the bridge, then throwing itself with a great roar over Karma Falls, an even deeper and more terrible chasm.
I asked Jonathan:
“How do you build a bridge over such a terrible chasm?”
“I’d like to know that, too,” he said. “And how many human lives went into building it? How many people fell down there with a cry and vanished into Karma Falls? I’d like to know that very much.”
I shuddered, thinking I could hear the cries still echoing between the mountains walls.
We were very near Tengil’s country now. On the other side of the bridge, I could see a path winding its way up through the mountains: The Ancient Mountains of Karmanyaka.
“If you follow that path, you come to Tengil’s castle,” said Jonathan.
I shuddered again, but I thought things could do what they liked tomorrow—this evening, I was going to sit by a campfire with Jonathan for the first time in my life.
We had our fire on a ledge of rock high up above the waterfall, near the bridge. But I sat with my back to everything, because I didn’t want to see the bridge over to Tengil’s country or anything else, either. I saw only the light from the fire flickering between the mountain walls, and that was beautiful and a little terrible, too. And then I saw Jonathan’s handsome, kindly face in the firelight, and the horses, which were standing resting a little way away.
“This is much better than my last campfire,” I said. “Because now I’m here with you, Jonathan.”
Wherever I was, I felt safe as long as Jonathan was with me, and I was happy that at last I could sit by a campfire with him, what he had talked about so many times when he had lived on earth.
“The days of campfires and sagas, do you remember saying that?” I said to Jonathan.
“Yes, I remember,” said Jonathan. “But then I didn’t know there were such evil sagas in Nangiyala.”
“Must it always be like this?” I asked.
He sat in silence for a while, staring into the fire, and then he said:
“No. When the final battle is over, then Nangiyala will probably again be a country where the sagas are beautiful and life will be easy and simple to live, as before.”
The fire flared up, and in the light, I saw how tired and sad he was.
“But the final battle, you see, Rusky, can only be an evil saga of death and more death. So Orvar must lead that battle, not me. For I’m no good at killing.”
No, I know that, I thought. And then I asked him:
“Why did you save that man Park’s life? Was that a good thing?”
“I don’t know whether it was a good thing,” said Jonathan. “But there are things you have to do, otherwise you’re not a human being but just a bit of filth. I’ve told you that before.”
“But suppose he’d realized who you were?” I said. “And they’d caught you?”
“Well, then they would have caught Lionheart and not a bit of filth,” said Jonathan.
Our fire burned down and the darkness sank over the mountains, first a brief dusk for a moment turning everything almost mild and friendly and soft, then a black, roaring darkness, in which you could hear nothing but Karma Falls and see no glimmer of light anywhere.
I crept as close to Jonathan as I could, and we sat there, leaning against the mountain wall, talking to each other in the dark. I wasn’t afraid, but a strange unease had come over me. We ought to sleep, Jonathan said, but I knew that I couldn’t sleep. I could hardly speak either, because of that feeling of anxiety, which had nothing to do with the dark, but something else, I didn’t know what. And yet Jonathan was there beside me.
There was a flash of lightning and then a crash of thunder, the sound of booming against the mountain walls, and then it came over us, a storm beyond all imagination, the thunder rolling over the mountains with a roar that drowned even the sound of Karma Falls, and flashes of lightning coming one after another. Sometimes the lights flared up and the next moment it was darker than ever; it was as if a night from ancient times had fallen over us.
And then there was another flash of lightning, more terrible than any of the others, flaring up and throwing its light over everything.
And then, in that light, I saw Katla. I saw Katla.
Chapter 13
Yes, I saw Katla, but I don’t know what happened next. I just sank into the black depths and didn’t wake up until the thunderstorm had passed and light was already beginning to appear behind the mountain peaks. I was lying with my head in Jonathan’s lap, and terror washed over me as soon as I remembered—there, far away on the other side of the river, was where Katla had stood on a cliff, high up above Karma Falls. I whimpered when I recalled it, and Jonathan tried to comfort me.
“She isn’t there any longer. She’s gone now.”
But I wept and asked him:
“How can things like Katla exist? Is it—a monster, or what?”
“Yes, she’s a monster,” said Jonathan. “A female dragon risen from ancient times, that’s what she is, and she’s as cruel as Tengil himself.”
“Where did he get her from?” I asked.
“She came out of Katla Cavern—that’s what people think.” said Jonathan. “She fell asleep down there one night in ancient times and slept for thousands upon thousands of years, and no one knew she existed. But one morning, she woke up; one terrible morning, she came crawling into Tengil’s castle, spurting death-dealing fire at everyone, and they fell in all directions in her path.”
“Why didn’t she kill Tengil.”
“Tengil fled for his life through the great rooms of his castle. As she approached him, he tore down a great battlehorn used for calling up soldiers to help, and when he blew the horn...”
“What happened then?” I asked.
“Then Katla came crawling to him like a dog. Ever since that day, she has obeyed Tengil. And Tengil alone. She’s afraid of his battlehorn. When he blows it, she obeys blindly.”
It was getting lighter and lighter. The mountain peaks over in Karmanyaka were glowing like Katla’s fire, and we were going to Karmanyaka now! How frightened I was, oh, how terribly afraid! Who knew where Katla was lying in wait? Where was she, where did she live, did she live in Katla Cavern, and how could Orvar be there? I asked Jonathan and he told me how things were.
Katla didn’t live in Katla Cavern. She had never gone back there after her long and ancient sleep; no, Tengil kept her tethered in a cave near Karma Falls. In that cave she was chained with a chain of gold, Jonathan said, and there she had to stay, except when Tengil took her with him to instill terror into people he wished to terrorize.
“I saw her in Wil
d Rose Valley once,” said Jonathan.
“And did you cry out?” I said.
“Yes, I cried out,” he said.
The terror grew in me.
“I’m so afraid, Jonathan. Katla will kill us.”
He tried to calm me again.
“But she is tethered. She can move no farther than the length of her chain, no further than that cliff where you saw her. She stands there nearly all the time and stares down into Karma Falls.”
“Why does she do that?” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Jonathan. “Perhaps she’s looking for Karm.”
“Who is Karm?”
“Oh, that’s just Elfrida’s talk,” said Jonathan. “No one has ever seen Karm. He doesn’t exist. But Elfrida says that once in ancient times he lived in Karma Falls and that Katla hated him then and cannot forget it. That’s why she stands there staring.”
“Who was he that he could live in such a terrible waterfall?” I said.
“He was a monster too,” said Jonathan. “A sea serpent as long as the river is ride, Elfrida says. But that’s probably only one of those old sagas.”
“Perhaps he’s no more a saga than Katla?” I said.
He didn’t reply to that, but said:
“Do you know what Elfrida told me while you were in the forest picking wild strawberries? She said that when she was small, they used to frighten children with Karm and Katla. The saga of the dragon in Katla Cavern and the sea serpent in Karma Falls she’d heard many a time in her childhood, and she liked it very much just because it was so terrible. It was one of those ancient sagas that people have frightened children with in all times, Elfrida said.”
“Couldn’t Katla have stayed in her cavern, then,” I said, “and gone on being a saga?”
“Yes, that’s just what Elfrida thought, too,” said Jonathan.
I shivered and wondered if Karmanyaka was a country full of monsters; I didn’t want to go there. But I had to now. We fortified ourselves with the food sack first, saving some food for Orvar because Jonathan said that starvation reigned in Katla Cavern.
Grim and Fyalar drank the rainwater that had collected in the crevices. There was no good grazing for them up here in the mountains, but a little grass was growing by the bridge, so I think they had had just about enough when we set off.
We rode across the bridge toward Karmanyaka, the country of Tengil, and the country of monsters. I was so frightened that I was shaking all over. That sea-serpent—perhaps I didn’t seriously believe that he existed, but all the same, suppose he suddenly flung himself up out of the depths and pulled us down off the bridge to perish in Karma Falls? And then Katla; I dreaded her more than anything. Perhaps she was waiting for us now, over there on Tengil’s shore, with her cruel fangs and her death-dealing fire. Oh, how frightened I was.
But we crossed the bridge, and I saw no Katla. She wasn’t on her cliff, and I said to Jonathan:
“No, she isn’t there.”
And yet she was there. Not on the cliff, but her terrible head was protruding from behind a huge block of rock by the path up toward Tengil’s castle. We saw her there. She saw us and let out a scream that could demolish mountains, jets of fire and smoke pouring out of her nostrils as she snorted with rage and jerked at her chain, jerking and screaming over and over again.
Grim and Fyalar were so beside themselves with terror that we could hardly hold them, and my terror was no less. I begged Jonathan to turn back to Nangiyala, but he said:
“We can’t let Orvar down. Don’t be afraid. Katla can’t reach us, however much she drags and pulls at her chain.”
And yet we had to hurry, he said, because Katla’s screams were a signal that could be heard as far as Tengil’s castle, and soon we would have a swarm of Tengil’s soldiers on us if we didn’t flee and hide in the mountains.
We rode on. We rode along wretched, narrow, steep mountain paths, riding so that sparks flew from us, riding hither and thither among the rocks to lead any pursuers astray. Every moment I expected to hear galloping horses behind us and shouts from Tengil’s soldiers trying to get us with their spears and arrows and swords. But none came. It was probably difficult to follow anyone among Karmanyaka’s many cliffs and mountains, where it was easy for the hunted to evade his pursuers.
When we had ridden for a long time, I asked Jonathan:
“Where are we going?”
“To Katla Cavern, of course,” he said. “We’re almost there now. That’s Katla Mountain straight in front of you.”
Yes, it was. In front of us was a low, flat mountain with steep slopes dropping straight downward. Only in our direction were they less steep and there we would easily be able to make our way up if we wanted to, which we did, for we had to get right across the mountain, Jonathan said.
“The entrance lies on the other side toward the river,” he said. “And I must see what happens there.”
“Jonathan, do you really think we can get into Katla Cavern?” I said.
He had told me about the huge copper gate across the entrance to the cave, and about the Tengilmen who stood on guard outside day and night. How on earth were we going to get in?
He didn’t answer me, but said that we would have to hide the horses now, for they couldn’t climb mountains.
We led them into a sheltered crevice immediately below Katla Mountain and left them there, horses, packs, and everything. Jonathan patted Grim and said:
“Wait there. We’re only going on a scouting trip.”
I didn’t like the idea because I didn’t want to be separated from Fyalar, but that couldn’t be helped.
It took us quite a time to get up on mountain plateau, and I was tired when we eventually reached it. Jonathan said we could rest for a while, so I at once threw myself full length down on the ground. Jonathan did too, and we lay there, up on Katla mountain, the wide sky above us and Katla Cavern directly beneath us. It was strange to think about; inside the mountain somewhere beneath us was that terrible cavern with all its passages and caves, where so many people had languished and died. And out here butterflies were fluttering about in the sunlight, the sky above was blue with small white clouds, and flowers and grass were growing all around. It was strange that flowers and grass grew on the roof of Katla Cavern.
I wondered, if so many people had died in Katla Cavern, whether perhaps Orvar were also dead, and I asked Jonathan whether he thought so too. But he didn’t reply. He just lay there staring straight up at the sky, thinking about something, I could see. Finally he said:
"If it’s true that Katla slept her ancient sleep in Katla Cavern, then how did she get out when she awoke? The copper gate was already there then. Tengil has always used Katla Cavern as his prison.”
“While Katla was sleeping inside?” I said.
“Yes, while Katla was sleeping inside,” said Jonathan. “Without anyone’s knowing about it.”
I shivered. I couldn’t imagine anything worse; think of sitting imprisoned in Katla Cavern and seeing a dragon come crawling along just like that!
But Jonathan had other thoughts in his head.
“She must have come out another way,” he said. “And I must find that way even if it takes a year.”
We couldn’t stay any longer because Jonathan was so restless. We were heading for Katla Cavern, which was only a short walk across the mountain. We could already see the river far below us and Nangiyala over on the other side. Oh, how I longed to be there.
“Look, Jonathan,” I said. “I can see the willow where we bathed. There, on the other side of the river.”
But Jonathan made a sign for me to be quiet, afraid that someone might hear us because we were so close now. This was where Katla Mountain ended in a perpendicular cliff, and in the mountainside below us was the copper gate into Katla Cavern, Jonathan said, although we couldn’t see it from up there.
But we could see the soldiers on guard, three Tengilmen; I only had to see their black helmets for my heart to begin thumping.
We had wriggled on our stomachs right to the edge of the precipice, to be able to look down at them; if only they had looked up they would have seen us. But they could not have been more useless as guards, for they did not look in any direction, but just sat there playing dice, not bothering about anything else. No enemy could penetrate beyond the copper gate, so why should they keep watch?
Just then, we saw the gate swing open down there, and someone came out of the cave—another Tengilman. He was carrying an empty food bowl which he flung to the ground. The gate fell back behind him, and we could hear him locking it.
“Well, now that pig has been fed for the last time,” he said.
The others laughed and one of them said:
“Did you tell him what a remarkable day it is today—the last day of his life? I suppose you told him that Katla is expecting him this evening when darkness falls?”
“Yes, and do you know what he said? ‘Oh, yes. At last,’ he said. And then he asked to be allowed to send a message to Wild Rose Valley. How did it go, now? ‘Orvar may die, but freedom never!’ “
“Ha!” said the other man. “He can tell that to Katla this evening and hear what she has to say.”
I looked at Jonathan, who had turned pale.
“Come on,” he said. “We must get away from here.”
We crept away from the precipice as quickly and quietly as we could, and when we knew we were out of sight, we ran. All the way back, we ran without stopping until we got back to Grim and Fyalar.
We sat in the crevice with the horses because now we didn’t know what to do. Jonathan was so sad and I could do nothing to comfort him, only be sad too. I realized how much he was grieving for Orvar. He had thought he would be able to help him, and now he no longer believed it.
“Orvar, my friend, whom I never met,” he said. “Tonight you will die and what will then happen to Nangiyala’s green valleys?”
We ate a little bread, which we shared with Grim and Fyalar. I would have liked a gulp or two of goat’s milk too, because we had saved some.