The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

flowed over her shoulders. She glanced at him and he gasped; it was as if a long shining rope had been thrown from her hands and found its mooring in his thoughts, the two of them attached across the empty air. As the other boys began to flock to their leader, she slipped between Dolmar and Simon.
    “Get away from him,” she hissed, her body shielding him from them. “Get away and keep away from my son.”
    As she spoke, something like the line of light which had danced from Simon’s thoughts came from her eyes. This time, it was far stronger. It spun like a circle of fire around Dolmar where he lay on the ground before coming to a point at his neck, coalescing into a quivering circle of red and vanishing as suddenly as it had arrived.
    All around was silence. As if time had stopped and the small group, Simon, his mother and the village boys, were suspended in the moment. No breeze, no cry of animals or birds. No sound. Then, his mother let out a sigh and the world began to move again. When Simon glanced at Dolmar, he felt his face go cold.
    In the place where the strange light had touched him, a long red weal lined his throat. It looked like the mark of a hunting whip he had seen once on one of the mountain wolves. Dolmar put his hand to the wound, staggered to his feet and began to shout. The boys around him scattered, throwing terrified glances behind them, and fleeing in a long stream of limbs and fear back towards the village. And still Dolmar shouted. Over and over again.
    “What have you done? You out-worlder , you witch . What do you think you’re doing in our village? Why did you come here? You’re not one of us. You’re evil. What have you done to my neck? You’ve hurt me. ”
    Clutching his arm, Simon’s mother took several paces forward, dragging him with her. With her free hand, she reached out and grabbed Dolmar, still spitting his words of hatred. She shook him until he stopped. The sparks flew from her skin like pinpoints of fire, or small stars.
    “ Yes, ” she whispered, her voice low and full of threat. “And if you touch my son again, or if you tell anyone about this, I will do far worse. Do you understand me? ”
    Wordless, he nodded. Simon could sense his fear as if he’d spoken aloud or carved his terror on the mind. It was the first time this had happened to him. His heart thudded wildly and he swallowed down bile.
    “Good,” she said, at last letting him go. “Then run, you coward. Run back to your friends and the safety of your small village. You have no courage to call your own. Go on. Run. ”
    He did. His feet kicked up mud, and tiny specks of blood fell from his neck. They showered through the air like corn dust. As he disappeared into the distance, the stamp of his emotions in Simon’s head grew weaker.
    At last, Dolmar vanished. He and his mother were alone.
    Kneeling down, she held him close. Simon could feel the wild pace of her heart, and her warmth seeping through the thin cotton. She must have come without stopping to put on her cloak, he thought. How had she known?
    Then all thought disappeared.
    A sudden wrench and he no longer stood within his own body. Instead, he was falling and spinning downward, the air around fizzing and full of music. An expanse of blue. White birds. The smell of salt. Simon. His mother’s voice. He didn’t know where it came from. Or what was happening.
    Mother.
    The cry came not from his lips but from his mind. The echo of it seared the whole of his being and left him shaking. The feeling of being stretched so it was impossible to be complete. Then pain. Rushing through a body Simon no longer had, in a place he couldn’t name. A picture of rocks falling from a high mountain and smashing on the ground far beneath. The rocks were upon him; he was the rocks. He opened his mouth and screamed but heard no sound.
    Mother. HELP ME.
    The feeling of a rope—a strong one—binding him back together into one piece again. His mother’s lilac perfume, the silencing of the jagged rocks and the strange knowledge of landing. Safe. Whole.
    There. I have you.
    Gasping, Simon opened his eyes. He had no idea what he might see. For a terrible moment when his thoughts seemed to implode into whiteness, he saw nothing. Then, through tears, the world came back into view—trees, mud, and the darkening evening sky.
    “Simon?”
    “Yes?” Her eyes gazed into his. Green, like the great waters she’d so often told him about, but which he’d never