The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

we’ve met, come what may, no matter what you may think of me now. Your humour, your loyalty, your ability to love another without holding anything back, and a kind of courage, if I look carefully for it,” he half-laughs and runs one hand through his hair. “Simon, I can’t with any honesty say now that, in similar circumstances, I would not have done in the Lammas Lands as you have done. I have performed much the same acts, by default, already, so what in truth is the difference between us at all?”
    There is a long pause. He wonders what Simon is thinking but draws back from exploring the man’s mind. It is astonishing how the words and truths he has unburdened himself of at last have made his mind seem lighter. As if the denial of them throughout this long journey has been weighing heavy on his shoulders all along.
    At last Simon clears his throat and Johan feels himself wrapped in compassion.
    “Thank you,” Simon whispers and reaches for his hand, holds it tight. “But you did what you did to try to save your country, no matter what other motives may have been in play. Because, by the gods and stars, no man’s motive can ever be entirely pure. Not in the land in which we live. Not before the gods take us. Whereas it seems to me that I have done what I have done only to keep the love of a man I am in awe of. I am sorry for the loss of Petran and your sister, but such things happen in war. The fault is not as much yours as you would have it be, and there is more difference between us than you imagine. But come now, my friend, together we have work to do. As you have told me. And we must do it.”
    Johan nods the thanks he is currently unable to express, knowing that Simon is right.

    Simon
    They dragged the boat out of the cave and nearer to the sea. Simon thought this would be harder than it proved and Johan laughed at the question he must have sensed from him. It felt good to hear the sound, which helped ease the delicate balance in Johan and between the two men. Rooted it also.
    “No, it is our thoughts,” Johan said, “which help move the boat, as well as our physical strength. It is the way such a vessel is made.”
    By the time they reached the shoreline, the night had already fully commenced. Simon stared up at the skies, catching his breath and trying to make sense of the stars. But, of course, he saw no Horseman, no Fox, no Owl. He was, once more, far from home.
    In the moonlight, Johan ran one hand through his black hair. The only sounds were the rhythm of the sea and the occasional murmur of a breeze. No birds cried. And always the tang of salt on the tongue.
    “We should wait for daylight before setting out,” Johan said. “Embarking on any journey at night will be dangerous. The waters are full of the creatures of the deep.”
    “But if we stay here, the enemy will find us,” Simon said.
    “Yes.”
    “Then there’s no choice. We have to leave.”
    Together the two men brought out the stone-lights from the cave and set them around the boat. The colours resembled a small rainbow in the darkness.
    Afterwards, Johan showed Simon how to run his hands over each piece of the boat’s wood and align his thoughts to how the wood felt against the skin. But the first time he touched it, it felt as if he’d put his hand into fire. From underneath his fingers, sparks flew and Simon gasped, snatching his hand back.
    “No. Like this,” Johan said. “Breathe slowly. Think peace and the boat will respond to you. Trust it. Trust yourself. It won’t fight you. Watch. I’ll show you again.”
    Johan took several deep, steady breaths and rested his hand on the wood. This time for longer. At first, nothing happened but then the boat seemed to give a little at the pressure and a warm orange glow—like an autumn sunset—developed around his hand. With it came a faint sound of humming. At first Simon thought it was Johan but then he realised the harmony came not from the man, but from the boat.
    He smiled, his teeth flashing white in the dark. “I know it looks strange, but it doesn’t hurt. It will feel warm, but there’s no pain. Run your fingers along, slowly. Feel the wood on your flesh and in your mind, and the boat will heal itself.”
    It was true. Watching him, Simon could see the wood becoming brighter, larger even, so the whole boat expanded as if settling into its proper shape. Once the process had finished, there would be room enough for two men to travel. More indeed, if that had