The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

appeared in the gap. “If you know a way we can do this together soon , now is a very good time to share it.”
    “I don’t know, I…”
    Then Johan’s voice could be heard only in the mind. The river between us. Our acknowledged cousinhood. It–it might work. Take my hand, Simon. Don’t let go.
    Grabbing his hand, Simon clung to him. For a moment, nothing but flame, terror, death. Then, as if from nowhere, a hint of blue rising. The river he’d sensed the first time they’d met.
    Trust me.
    Yes , he replied. This time, thank the gods, it seemed easier.
    Still clinging to each other, the two men crawled together through sand and fire, darkness and heat. Through the collapsing wall behind them, and out of the building. Away from the terrible noise and stench of death. Between them, the river flowed, rising. With his free hand, Simon tried to protect his face and find a way through to safety. But as he gasped for air and found none, next to him Johan began to choke. At the same time, the house they’d been trapped inside fell away, even the stones ravaged by the fire-death, and he could see through the crimson fury the stark beauty of evening sky.

    Isabella
    It is done. She has failed him and, for this, Gelahn kills her. And yet he does not. Heat and despair and pain. Petran, oh Petran, I have not found you here.
    Why does she still feel? Where is the nothingness to come?
    No release. No release.
    No release.

    Johan
    It’s enough, Johan says. It might be enough. Run, Simon. Now.
    He wrenches the scribe forward and, together, they run. His breath burns his throat and the roar of the fire behind threatens destruction. Once Johan stumbles, almost falls, but Simon drags him upright, keeps him steady. Isabella, my sister, my friend, why did it have to be you? He no longer knows anything but her, and the need to keep moving, keep running, sand blistering his feet and heat punching sweat from his skin. And, always, the thin membrane of coolness covering his companion and himself.
    At last, Johan stops and pulls Simon downwards so they both land with a gasp on the desert floor. They roll sideways until brought to a halt by an outcrop of stone.
    “Are—we— safe ?” the scribe pants.
    “Yes. I think so. There’s no fire. Look, Simon. We’re safe; listen and look.”
    He pushes the hair out of his companion’s eyes and elbows himself away so the other man can see. Simon blinks as the protective link between them fades and vanishes. The desert is empty and silent. Only the heat of the night remains and only the fire-gnats around them dance. And, in the distance, the long wall of fire they have grown accustomed to. It stays far enough away to be no threat. For now.
    Turning to Johan, Simon touches his shoulder.
    “Isabella?” he asks.
    Johan closes his eyes and shakes his head. There is something not quite right about what has happened, but he cannot grasp it. He can still sense Isabella, but she seems so very distant. As if he will never see her again.
    “I don’t know,” he whispers at last. “I don’t know. I don’t believe my sister is dead but… At least, she is dead but not dead. I think she is lost to me.”
    “What do you mean? If she’s alive, if there’s a chance, then we go back, we can…”
    “No.” Johan pushes him roughly away and sits up. “We can’t go back. Not now. She won’t be where we left her. Not any more. I can sense it. And if we try to go back, we will be killed for certain. The fire-death won’t let us escape for a second time. Once it destroyed the people who lived here by right; what then will it do to us?”
    After he has finished, the pause lengthens into silence.
    At last, the scribe speaks. “This attack—it surprised you? Is the enemy’s power so much greater now?”
    “Perhaps,” he says, with a catch in his voice, glad of the chance to change the subject. “But it shouldn’t be. Not after the relationship story I revealed to you… I don’t… I’m sorry, Simon, I can’t give you an answer.”
    “It’s all right,” Simon says quickly. “You don’t have to say any more. We should sleep. If you think we are safe enough for that?”
    “I don’t know. I hope so. The river we formed will give us protection for a while. We need our strength, but we will have to take turns to keep watch. In the morning we must face the final part of our journey. As…as we are.”
    Johan stands first watch and listens as the scribe lies down and stretches out his