The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

gathering—already it is stronger than the day would warrant. We must tell Simon now why he is here. From what I saw outside, the time for any gentleness with him is past. We must tell him now, and then we must go.”
    Johan’s mouth twists as he searches for the best words to explain, but he has reckoned without the physical contact he has just shared with Simon. And its mind-connection aftermath.
    “My mother,” Simon whispers, his face as pale as winter. “My mother was of your people, wasn’t she? Not of my own. My journey with you is half of a journey home, to a land where part of me also might belong.”
    As he speaks, the air outside glows and crackles more fiercely. Johan glances at the open doorway, but stands his ground. The story should protect them for a while.
    “Yes,” he replies. “Your mother was one of the first travellers from our lands. On her third journey to your people, she met your father, fell in love and made her choice to stay. Such a choice was dangerous, but she would not be swayed from it. After that, we were forced by necessity to have little contact with her. But we believe that the enemy discovered her existence nonetheless, and yours, and found a way to use that weakness in our defences to try to destroy us.”
    “But I don’t understand,” the scribe says. “If I am causing the destruction of your world, how can taking me back there help?”
    “We don’t know for sure, Simon. We only know that the signs the elders interpret tell us that this is so. Our family has kept more closely than others around us to the way of the land. And the power of two or three in a family is stronger than the power of one. When you are back in Gathandria, we believe that only then might the battle be won.”
    “Wait,” Simon holds up his hand, and Johan falls silent. “What do you mean? You speak of family but…”
    Johan hesitates. The scribe hangs upon his answer. Their gazes lock together.
    “Your mother is a cousin of ours,” he whispers. “A distant one, but still a cousin. You are part of our family, Simon.”

    Simon
    Before he could respond to this, the world around and within exploded. Fire burst through the door and tracked a crimson passage around the three of them. Johan cried out and, the next moment, his body landed on Simon’s, pushing them sideways and rolling them underneath the widest of the sand-shelves. It collapsed at once from the force of the blast, forming a shield of sorts between them, and the heat and terror. Even so, it was barely more than the length of their bodies. Would it be enough? The last glimpse Simon had of the dwelling’s interior was of the yellow statue bursting into flame. He could no longer see Isabella.
    “No,” Johan groaned, his voice close to Simon’s ear. “ No. This is too soon. The fire-death cannot have found us so quickly.”
    The scribe didn’t understand, didn’t even want to try. Whatever was out there felt different from the flames he’d encountered before. It felt menacing. Alive. Every fibre of his body was straining to escape, and he struggled against his companion. “Get off me. We need to run .”
    “Where’s Isabella?”
    Without waiting for an answer Simon didn’t have, Johan began to scrabble at the sand with his fingertips, punching indentations into their temporary refuge. The roaring of the fire heightened and sang.
    “No,” Simon yelled at him. “You’ll kill us. For the love of the gods, Johan. Stop .”
    “But my sister, my sister . I have to help her, I have to…”
    Simon hit him, the back of his hand cracking against Johan’s jaw as he glanced around. It sent a fierce arrow of pain shooting through his arm and a gash of blood bubbling to his companion’s mouth.
    “Listen,” Simon said, gripping him by the shoulders and praying to all the gods and stars that Johan was still too shocked to overpower his mind with madness. “Listen.”
    He could feel the quick rise and fall of Johan’s chest. In their ears the roar of the strange storm of fire, and on their flesh the almost overbearing heat.
    No other sound.
    “If we go in there,” Simon said, “we’ll die and if then, by some miracle, your sister still lives, we will be no use to her. We must escape. Later, when it’s safe, we can come back. It’s the coward’s way, but the only one. I promise you.”
    “Yes,” he said. “Yes. All right .”
    “How then?” The barrier of sand behind began to melt and a flicker of bright crimson