The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

still not the story laid most closely to your heart. It will not give us all the protection we need. No matter, we do not have time for another. We will have to leave now.”
    Isabella smiles. Behind Johan, she can see that, in the wall of white, peaceful feathers forming the far horizon of their refuge, a scar has formed. Red and black pierce the undulating uniformity. At the same time, Hartstongue sees it.
    “What is it?” he says. Stupidly.
    Johan’s expression is unfathomable. “Our enemy has caught us again. Sooner than I had hoped.”
    At once, Hartstongue grips Carthen and hauls him to his feet. “Then we must run.”
    “Yes. The ravens will be able to hold him for a while, but their strength will not last forever. And ours is still too weak.”
    As Johan turns to gather their small belongings into the makeshift parcel of his cloak, she understands at last what Gelahn wants. Yes. It is so perfect.
    “We must go to the kingdom of fire, the desert,” she says. “Quickly.”
    “Simon is not prepared…” Johan begins to reply but time runs out. A vast and silent splinter of crimson and black shatters through the feathers lining this world.
    “Run.” her brother screams.
    Delicious, triumphant sound explodes around them. The crying of the ravens, the howling of the wind and, last but most satisfying of all, the shriek of wild hawks on the hunt.

    Simon
    Grabbing Carthen’s arm and abandoning what little they had left, he began to run. His companions were suddenly lost in the darkness that rolled over them. He could only hope that they ran with him.
    He glanced back and saw how the snow-ravens wheeled and dived, trying to escape from the fire that spun upwards from the hawks as they pursued them. Behind, he could sense rather than see the presence of the enemy. How had he sprung himself upon them in such a way? None of them had felt his evil, which swept over them now. And did he still bring Ralph with him?
    The puzzling issue of whether Simon cared to know the answer to that was broken by the shaft of fire which sizzled across his arm, barely missing Carthen’s head. Turning again to run, he slipped and fell. Even as Carthen and he scrabbled to their feet, it was too late and the hawks were already there.
    “No,” he cried out, not knowing if his voice could be heard at all. “No! Don’t hurt him .”
    “Simon.”
    By the time he’d spun around to the sound of the voice, he knew who it was. The next moment, the air began to whirl in wild patterns, the burning trees and the hawks swooping in a strange vortex. Simon reached out and his hand touched flesh.
    Then all was darkness.
    When he woke, he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. Glancing from one side to the other, he could see that he was trapped in something shimmering and white, almost transparent and no larger than his old home in Ralph’s village. Beyond these soft walls lay the land of the snow-ravens. This time, no refuge, but a place full of fire and invading hawks. On the ground outside, Simon could see feathers and blood. His eyes filled with tears, but there was no trace of limbs or flesh. His companions, Carthen included, had vanished.
    A slight noise on the left, and he turned to see the figure of a man, his back to him. Wiping one hand over his eyes to clear his vision, Simon rose to his feet—slowly and as soundlessly as possible—and took two steps towards him.
    He couldn’t help himself.
    “Ralph?” he whispered. “Is that you?”
    The Overlord swung around and at once fire plunged through Simon’s blood. It was as if there was nobody else in the whole world—no strange land of ravens, no trees, no hunting birds, no people, and certainly none of his three companions—just the two of them.
    “Simon.”
    Someone’s hand touched Ralph’s face, stroked the stubbled skin of his cheek and the lines of his mouth. The hand was Simon’s, the fingers trembling. Unable to believe he was real , but discovering he was. Simon couldn’t speak. Didn’t know how.
    Didn’t need to.
    Because the next moment, Ralph’s lips were on Simon’s, and somehow none of the past few weeks had ever happened. No prison, no rope, no journey, no mountain, no birds. All he cared about was the fact that he was in Ralph’s arms. Now. Kissing him. Drinking him in, knowing at last how much he had missed him.
    Ralph broke away first. Simon was shaking, unable to catch his breath, still tasting the other man on his tongue.
    “Simon,”