‘Of course. So you think there are some clues here, about the God-War, and specifically about Meical?’
‘I do,’ Ektor said, abruptly animated. He hurried to one of the ladders and climbed, one hand holding a lantern high. ‘You must remember, of course, that everything written here was done so by the Kurgan, so there will surely be a degree of bias, and therefore of inaccuracy, in all that they wrote, but nevertheless also a large portion of truth.’
‘The Kurgan were the giant clan that ruled here?’
‘Yes. One of the five clans that survived the Scourging,’ Ektor said distractedly. ‘When our ancestors, the Exiles, were washed up on these shores there were five giant clans still in power. The Kurgan here, ruling in the south, the Jotun in the north, the Benothi in the west, the Shekam in the east, and the Hunen in the central regions – where Helveth, Carnutan and Forn are situated now.’
Ektor returned with a bundle of scrolls under his arm, the first one he rolled out being a map. ‘You see,’ he said, pointing, ‘here is Ripa; the Kurgan ruled this area.’ He traced a line with a finger.
Fidele nodded, intrigued by the map, seeing Ripa, Jerolin, Forn Forest, other names she was familiar with, and many she was not.
‘The Kurgan wrote much about their history, and that is mostly what fills this room, and most of that is after the Scourging, detailing their clan wars, day-to-day life; much of it would be quite tedious to you.’
‘I can imagine. Have you read every scroll in here?’
‘Yes, at least once. There are so many, though, that some I have forgotten by now. It may take some time to locate what I need. There is one scroll in particular that I remember; I thought it more philosophical than historical at the time I read it, but now . . .’
‘Well, let’s make a start with what you have now, shall we?’
‘Yes, yes.’ He flicked through his armful of scrolls, then paused at one. ‘This isn’t the one I was speaking of, but I’m sure . . .’ He opened it, eyes flicking across the archaic script, then paused. ‘Here it is. A reference to Halvor. He is the giant that you mentioned, and that Nathair spoke of when he came here; the writer of your prophecy. Listen. We have rebuilt Balara, but Taur and Haldis are lost to us. The Hunen hold them now, and Drassil, though they will never find it, not if Halvor spoke true. It is talking about the contestation of borders between the Kurgan and the Hunen, I think. Halvor is mentioned a few times throughout their histories, or the Voice, as they refer to him in other passages. Apparently he was counsellor to the first giant King, Skald. Somehow this Halvor survived the Scourging and ended up in Drassil, the giant city that is said to lie in the heart of Forn Forest.’
‘Counsellor to the first giant king, and yet alive after the Scourging. That is a long life to live,’ Fidele said. ‘This is the difficulty I have,’ she continued, ‘discerning where truth ends and faery tale begins. I believe in much that has been spoken of – Elyon and Asroth, the God-War – I have seen too much not to believe. But some of these things – they just cannot be true, surely?’
‘The giants often talk of long life,’ Ektor said, a rare enthusiasm sparking in his demeanour. ‘If the histories and tales are true then all that lived on this earth were immortal once – giants and mankind alike – until Elyon ripped our immortality from us as judgement for the first murder – the giant King Skald, slain by his brother, Dagda. But even then, after that, there are many references to giants especially that have lived extraordinarily long lives. Nemain is written of somewhere here.’ He thumbed through scrolls, a silence stretching.
‘If you remember it well enough, you don’t have to find every reference,’ Fidele said, growing impatient.
‘All right then,’ Ektor said, putting the scrolls down. ‘In the later scrolls, written – from what I can deduce – just before our kin the Exiles arrived on these shores, Nemain is written of, spoken of as Queen of the Benothi, the giant clan that held sway in the west until we Exiles took it from them, though their remnants still rule in the far north-east.’
‘What of it?’
‘Nemain was Queen to Skald, the first King. Measures of time are a little unreliable, but by anyone’s counting that was over two thousand years ago.’
‘It must be a different Nemain to the one ruling today, then, surely. An honorific?’
‘The giants don’t do that. They would never take another’s name; they think they’d be cursed.’
‘But that is just impossible.’
‘You would think so,’ Ektor said.
‘Well, then surely it is just mistakes in the scrolls,’ Fidele said.
‘Textual inconsistencies are remarkably rare in the giants’ histories; they were quite particular.’
He paused, studying Fidele, as if considering whether she was capable of understanding.
Or worthy of hearing, she thought.