Page 53 of Stormlost

Still, she gasped with relief as her fingers found what she was looking for. She rested there. On the scene before her, he was but a tiny point, one holding the focus of almost all in the huge etching. With a thick veil of blackness shrouding her, she saw the picture in her mind. His reckoning was precise, she knew, right down to his straw-blond hair, and the colours of his green tunic and dark brown trousers. The only part of him even a little incorrect was his facial expression, for he was shown pleading, whereas in fact, on the day commemorated, he’d worn a fierce determination. She’d been proud of him. He wasn’t to be denied that day.

All this she felt with her fingers and saw in her mind.

Tears pooled down on her cheeks. Carefully, she wiped them away. The past had happened, and the future, agreed so long ago, was not yet come. Only time would bring events full circle. It was a bitter tonic but one she’d accepted, unquestioningly. Until now.

Sudden anger flared and burned so brightly she fancied she could see it at the corner of her closed eyes as a flashing of bright silvers. And with it, her warm tears flowed uncontrollably down her cheeks. She emitted no sound, but internally she screamed in rage and fury and suppressed grief for what had not been and what was, so achingly slowly, still to come.

Only then did she remember the candle she’d brought with her. After all this time, after everything, she needed to see him, and not just in her mind.

Drying her tears, with fumbling fingers, she lit the candle, allowing the sharp smell to flood the space. When her eyes had adjusted she looked at the image before her, a smile touching her tear-stained cheeks. She stared at the tiny, but nearly perfect rendition of the Librarian, or Olaf as he was to her.

She’d not brought a candle in centuries. She was shocked to see how cracked and faded the picture had become. In places, the colours had bled away into the black stone, and parts of dragons, and her own kind, were missing. Olaf still stood proud before the First Speaker, but his clothing was cracked and his face weathered. She wondered if time had been as cruel to him in person as it had been in the depiction?

Via the Speaker, the Librarian had sent a message of his continued love for her, but infecting them were the feelings of abject loneliness and failure he’d carried throughout that time. Her heart wept for the unhappiness he wore, like a thick cloak. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Most worrying of his emotions, was the blame he placed on his own shoulders. They’d never had many secrets. Now, she realised that he’d been ignorant of her support for him, when he’d bartered for their continued existence on Biklander. She’d understood, as he clearly hadn’t, what being kept as a hostage would mean to her. She’d made the decision, happy to support her husband in all his endeavours to keep their people alive. Their separation had been hard, she couldn’t deny it. But, she’d taken some of her friends, and family with her. He’d gone alone into his self-imposed exile. She was astounded he’d survived for so long alone, with only his memories. She couldn’t wait for their reunion. It couldn’t be much longer in coming. As they’d been promised, all those years ago.

26

SEREH

‘Emma, there you are.’ She looked up with relief when Emma rejoined them in the common room. She’d sought her in her chamber, but hadn’t found her. Frustrated, yet also content, Sereh had aided Elen with Pal and awaited her return, fearful Jon would appear, grateful when he didn’t.

Now, she watched Emma. Had something happened to her as well? Emma no longer looked as fierce as she had in the past.

‘Hello, Sereh. It’s good to see you up and about. I know Skaldi had much to tell you. I imagine he didn’t manage.’

‘Not all of it, no,’ Sereh admitted. ‘But he gave me this?’ And she pointed to the weighted down vellum on the table.

‘Ah, that will make it easier, I hope.’ Emma nodded, and Sereh noticed how she ran her fingers almost reverentially over the two strange symbols depicted on the vellum.

‘What are they?’ Elen queried.

‘As I understand it, they are symbols placed on the prime markers, and in some other places as well.’

‘By the Librarian?’ Elen queried, her expression puzzled.

‘Yes, by him.’ Sereh noticed how Elen seemed to know the Librarian as well as Emma. She needed to understand why. But first, she wanted to understand the symbols.

‘It’s a long story.’ Emma placed a kiss on Pal’s face, and settled on a stool beside Sereh. ‘But what you need to understand is that, somehow, you must convey both of these symbols, in their exact details to Erann. This is how he’ll escape from his captivity. And, Sereh, you’re the only one who can do so.’

Sereh nodded, scouring the images once more. They were complex and simple at the same time. The intricacies of the curling lines emanating from a central core. What seemed to be an imprint of a dragon claw over the top of them both. The way the shapes were subtly different between the two.

‘How can it be done?’ she mused, daunted by the scale of the task set before her.

‘You’ve seen him in your dreams. You have, as I understand it, managed to speak with him, although neither of you truly understood how. Skaldi can’t do this for you. And there’s no way to visit his prison and extract him from it. You must endeavour to do your best or he will be trapped there, until his death,’ Emma murmured, unexpectedly reaching out to take hold of Sereh’s hand.

Her grip was as firm as the Librarian’s. Sereh couldn’t help but notice it.

‘Skaldi has shared the images with Arrow as well. He suspects some connection between Arrow and Erann. I don’t understand how either. And,’ and now her grip grew tighter. ‘Jon will also be instructed by Skaldi. You also share a bond. I know it’s not one you welcome, but, Sereh, when you dream of Erann, it’s Jon who can aid you. None of us can.’

‘Why must it involve Jon?’ Sereh shook her head, clenching her other fist, her good mood evaporating. As much as she’d told Elen she was happy to endure her strange experiences, and it did involve Jon, she didn’t like the thought of him aiding her. What would Erann say?

‘It’s best we do all we can to reinforce these shapes. They’re complex, Sereh. Look at them. You might forget something, and then the cycle must be endured again. This is the best way. The only way. To ensure it works on the first attempt.’

‘I don’t wish to see Jon, though,’ she murmured, and Emma gripped her hand tighter, and then released it, to force Sereh to gaze into her unflinching eyes.

‘It’s cruel. I understand that. So much of this has been so very cruel. But Jon will understand. It’s what must be endured. It’s always those we love we must hurt the most.’ Emma’s sentence trailed off, and for a moment, there was no sound, other than the crackle of flames from the hearth fire. Sereh felt her mouth grow dry. There was much Emma wasn’t telling her, and yet she was alluding to it. She caught sight of Elen, and even Gunnar and Brand, who’d also entered the common room during their conversation. And even young Finn. In their looks she detected the wisdom of aeons.