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Now he saw the Speaker through the Librarian’s eyes. The Speaker was old and grizzled and yet filled with conceit. Skaldi didn’t like to see it. His kind weren’t like this. Or rather, he wasn’t like this.

‘I was the one who negotiated with your Speaker after my son left. We decided on a compromise. Your Speaker revealed your presence here was because of the lava, the blood of the mountain. He cared nothing for the rest of this land. And so all drekkikind retreated to the mountain. We were not allowed nearby. As a deterrent, a shield spun of light was placed around your mountain home, run-ketill, I believe you call it. If any of my people tried to cross the boundary, they’d suddenly forget why they were there and return home. It was a means of protecting your kind, and of keeping mine safe. There had been other difficulties. They will wait for another day. Now, it’s the markers that interest you, and at last, I reach that part of my story.’

A fresh image appeared, and in this one, Skaldi saw the purple wall he was to maintain, and which the Librarian called a shield, as did Erann. It enclosed all of the glacier in the image, although Skaldi was astonished to realise the glacier was much smaller at that point.

Immediately, he understood the problem. As with Erann and Sereh, people were able to walk through it.

‘There was a complication though. My family were immune to the shield. They could walk unaided through it. I was summoned by your Second Speaker. Another deterrent was needed, and that was the markers, or the prime markers. Combined with the shield, the prime markers would ensure my family never penetrated the shield again.’

The Librarian stopped speaking. Skaldi absorbed the image he showed him, and yet, he had many other questions.

Another image formed. This one was even more astonishing than realising the glacier had once been so small, and the land so covered in trees.

He watched, astounded, as the vibrant colours of the images all faded. He blinked, as though it would make them bright again. But it didn’t.

‘In using this land’s magic to make the shield, the Speaker and I consumed it all in one simple act. As a consequence, the colours of every living creature and every living plant faded. The abundance of before began to fade, even as every colour deepened, grew darker, more menacing. Since then, all have striven to grow enough to eat and feed their animals and families. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is it didn’t work.’

Skaldi waited, almost not wanting to see the next image. And then he did.

It was one of the Others from run-ketill. He watched as Jon walked right through the wall without any hindrance.

‘Years later my grandson was able to penetrate this shield. He walked straight to his grandmother, Emma. This infuriated the ancient Second Speaker.’

Once more, an image appeared of an incensed drekki, and from the position, Skaldi had to assume the Librarian was facing the drekki outside the Library. And then the image darkened, and darkened, until Skaldi could see nothing. This time, a bugle of alarm burst from his mouth. It was all too familiar. This was where Erann was.

‘A further block was put into place. That is where I suspect Erann is. He’s touched the prime marker. His ancestry’s been recognised. As a consequence, he’s been transported to a deep cavern underground. It’ll keep him alive, I made the stipulation. I couldn’t allow my descendants to die of starvation and thirst. But there’s no way to leave. Or at least there’s never been before now. In all honesty, I never expected it to truly work.’

Now the Librarian held the animal skin once more, shaking it in agitation.

‘Only I know the power in the symbols etched into the marker stones. Only I know how they could be used. And they need to be used in order to escape. I can decipher the symbols, but there’s no way to tell him.’

Skaldi listened to the Librarian with growing anger. His ancestors had left so much out of the records kept in the Archive – he was absolutely sure it had been done so deliberately. Why had his ancestors been so determined drekkikind and Erann’s-kind couldn’t live together? He understood that as much as the Librarian had told him, there was still even more missing from the story. But his focus was on the possibility of finally rescuing Erann.

How can he use the symbols to escape from this cavern? I don’t understand.

A confused explosion of images entered his mind, even as the Librarian spoke, his words growing more heated.

‘There are patterns he must somehow fashion for himself out of the symbols, and then the latent magic of our land will simply return him to where he was before touching the prime marker. That’s how I understand it. The Second Speaker was hesitant to tell me everything. But he forced me to construct the prime markers. At the time, I realised there were certain combinations he decreed should never be together.’ The Librarian pointed at the script held tight between his outstretched hands, as he walked backwards towards Skaldi.

‘I think it might be these two but we’ll need to experiment.’

Skaldi peered over his shoulder. The script was full of curiously swirling shapes he recognised. Some of them were scratched onto the walls within his cave. Others he’d seen on the markers he’d visited when looking for Erann. The two symbols the Librarian pointed at were curiously similar.

How will we check this? Skaldi thought.

‘I think if we put them together, we should feel something, a shift. I’ve never tried before but it should disturb the very essence of our land so something should happen. Shall we practise? We could make the symbols in the snow. But before we begin, do you have any idea how we can let Erann know? I don’t know where this underground prison is.’

Sereh will be the answer. Her connection with Erann is still strong, on occasion. If we determine the correct symbols, we’ll have to find a way for her to tell him. I’m not sure how, but there must be a way. Now, come, we must work. You draw the symbols. I’ll inform you if anything changes and you tell me the same. You must be closely connected to the land. Librarian, how old are you?

The Librarian offered a smile that looked more like a grimace.

‘Older than our time here. That was part of my punishment for asking too much of your ancestors. They sentenced me to live through the slow death my people would suffer. Always apart from my family. I’m a watcher. An observer. I’m to record my people’s history, and to mourn them when everyone’s dead. Maybe, if we work together now, I can avoid some of my fate,’ he ended with a wistful note to his voice.

Skaldi offered him a compassionate glance, or what he hoped was one. His ancestors had been more cruel than he could have thought possible.

I’m pleased you’re here. Without you, I’d be ignorant of my kind’s place in all this. I’d have been forced to act purely through instinct. You may have thought yourself being punished for five hundred rotations. I think you’ve a greater part yet to play. Now, let us work.

It was, of course, inevitable, the most damaged of all the symbols on the script were the two the Librarian believed were the most crucial. The one symbol was a tightly packed whirl of lines, so densely wrought that it was difficult to determine just how many times the symbol repeated on itself. They examined it for a long time before the Librarian sighed heavily, and used his booted foot to draw a rendering of it in the snow. Skaldi viewed it critically, glancing back and forth between the script and the image.