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When he turned back around, there was a man standing in the entrance to the cave.
Skarde had a fright.
The man was dressed in a long heavy black coat, different from the Sámi’s traditional wear, and instead of a face he had a deer skull with short, three-pronged antlers.
Skarde stared at the man, wondering how the skull was fastened to his head. He peered at the deep dark and empty eye sockets, trying to see a glimpse of the man underneath, but there was none to be found.
The man raised a hand, fitted with a furry glove, and pointed to the horizon.
We go, the man said, but to Skarde the voice didn’t sound like it was coming from the mask. It sounded like it was coming from inside his own head.
Skarde nodded, feeling nervous now, and as the man turned from the cave, Skarde followed him.
They walked past the gathering of huts where this Sámi tribe lived, and the reindeer skinned door of the largest one opened, Seppo stepped out. Seppo’s face was grave. Skarde had thought that Seppo would at least be happy that Skarde’s time finally came. If not for that, then at least Skarde, who was feeling like he was a nuisance to the tribe, was leaving for good.
But Seppo didn’t look happy. And as others came out of their huts and stared at the deer skull man and Skarde, they watched with a mix of revulsion and fear. One of them even spit on the ground and Skarde wondered if it was for him or for the noaidi.
Skarde raised his head high, remembering that this was what he wanted, and that he was a warrior, and that he wasn’t afraid (even though he was) and he followed the man. They walked for hours. Past rivers and treeless plains, over hills where snow still lived at the top, down through mossy pine forests. The walk was silent. There were no birds, they saw no animals, and the noaidi didn’t say a single word to Skarde.
Eventually they came to a stop in front of a large rock that sat adjacent to a steep hillside. The rock was huge, at least twenty feet high, and a smooth dark gray. It didn’t seem to fit in with the surroundings at all.
The man moved to the back of the rock, to the dark space between the rock and the hillside, and motioned for Skarde to follow.
Skarde didn’t want to go. He knew there was something very wrong about the rock, that it didn’t belong there, that the dark space that the noaidi was disappearing into was a space he’d never come out of. There was death in that darkness, the very death that Skarde was trying to escape.
Death, and evil.
Skarde swallowed hard and stood his ground. Perhaps if he turned around he could find his way back to Seppo. Maybe they would take him in again. Maybe he could stay with them until the plague was gone and then he could go back down to Oslo and start life over, find a wife, have a child, do the things he never got a chance to do. Skarde was old, in his early sixties, but he was handsome and strong and he had money put away and he knew he could still carve out a happy life for himself.
Death will always find you, a voice said.
It seemed to come from the dark space, where the noaidi had gone, but the voice didn’t belong to the skull man.
The voice belonged to Hell itself.
I will find you, the voice went on, raspy and inhuman and disembodied. Dripping with malice. Ivar Skarde. You cannot cheat death again. I will come for you and you will be back inside that void, to suffer for eternity. No escape.
Suddenly, a cold, icy wind smelling of sulfur came out of the dark space behind the rock, blowing back Skarde’s long black hair, chilling him to the marrow of his bones.
You only have two choices, the voice continued. To run away knowing there is truly no escape. Or to come forward and join me. Become one with the darkness you try so hard to avoid. You cannot escape death, but you can become death.
Become death? Skarde thought to himself.
A coward would run away, the voice said. A warrior would step forward and choose to become something greater than he is, greater than he’ll ever be. Greater and more powerful than any creature in this world. You can become death, and in becoming death, you will live forever. Your blood will be eternal. You will have nothing to fear. All will fear you.
The wind blew again, and this time it seemed to tug at Skarde like invisible hands, pulling him to the dark space.
All will fear me, Skarde thought. Eternal blood. Eternal life.
