The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

of the two men.
    Finally Simon speaks. “Johan?”
    “Yes?”
    “Nothing,” he says quickly. “I hadn’t realised I’d been asleep, that’s all.”
    “No matter.” Johan struggles for composure in the light of what has just been revealed to him but Simon does not react. “We have travelled far enough for one day. We need to rest. Both of us.”
    During the night, Johan wakes several times. He finds himself thinking of Annyeke and also, closer to the current situation, of the other image in the scribe’s mind which had been too deeply embedded for the unskilled dreamer to catch—the mind-cane. As he thought, it is connected to Simon, perhaps more so than either of them has realised before. Perhaps then, in a manner Johan can’t yet grasp, there may be hope.
    However, if they are to make use of that fact in some way, Simon needs to face his most personal treacheries. Those he committed, and those done to him. Will he have the courage to do so?

    Simon
    Simon stared out at the sky, already lightening with the full promise of morning, before he turned his attention to more practical matters. It was raining, and they needed to keep dry. Not only that, but while they had eaten yesterday from a concoction of the herbs Johan had showed him, they had had nothing to drink. The water they travelled in was filled with salt, which Johan had said would kill them if they drank of it. But after the herbs, Simon had felt neither hungry nor thirsty, and neither did he feel so now. Perhaps that had been part of the mixture’s strength. Or its magic. If he believed in such things.
    “Simon.”
    Even before looking at Johan, he could tell something was wrong.
    “What is it?”
    Before he answered, Johan laid one hand on Simon’s arm and he felt himself shiver. “We need to talk. And soon.”
    The rain continued to pucker the surface of the sea, deadening the cry of the sea-birds as they greeted the morning. Simon’s throat felt dry and his arm shook.
    “Is-is it about last night?” he stammered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for my dreams to be so obvious. I apologise if they embarrassed you, I…”
    Johan made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Wait, that’s not what I mean. Even so, dreams are the mirror to our hearts. If we can read them. No, what I mean is this. You need to tell me about your relationship with Tregannon. If you can share that with another, come to terms with it even, then there is hope that we might survive this. And therefore hope for the battle.”
    “Why? What possible connection could Ralph have with what’s happening now? It’s nothing to do with it.”
    “Yes it is. And in ways you don’t understand yet, but you must trust me.”
    “ Gods and stars , Johan,” Simon brought his fist down hard on the side of the boat so that it rocked and he almost lost his balance. “Are you sure this is not simply some prurient way to find out about what two men not blessed by a union can do together? Are you wanting to taste those pleasures yourself? Is that what this is really about? ”
    For a moment, Simon thought his companion might hit him; Johan’s face reddened and then turned pale again. Then to his surprise the other man laughed.
    “No,” he said. “I know perfectly well what happens when men are intimate with each other, but my pleasures lie elsewhere, Simon Hartstongue. Neither do I have any great desire to delve into what is private to you. I’m sorry if this is a disappointment, but believe me when I say that I am not of your ilk.”
    Johan’s response swept all his anger away.
    “Yes, I know it. I’m not a fool,” he said. “At least not in that way. Forgive me for suggesting otherwise.”
    His companion nodded, a half-smile crossing his features, and waited.
    Simon shut his eyes and felt the rain on his lashes. “So then. If it has to be done, for whatever reason, what do you want me to say?”
    The truth. Not as you relate it to yourself but as it really is.
    His words fell like arrows into Simon’s head and he almost gasped out loud, so harsh had been the sense of them.
    “All right,” Simon said, making the instant decision not to answer his interrogator in thought but in words. “All right. What part of the truth do you wish me to tell?”
    Johan turned around. His face was as stone.
    “The real truth about you and Tregannon,” he said. “I want you to tell me that. I’m not talking about love. That’s understood. But why did you go to