The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

For the first time, Johan understands the full extent of Simon’s weakness; there is a fault-line of need and surrender running through the man. Despite the growing sense of friendship with him, he wonders how such a one can ever be a force for good. He does not know what to do, but he knows it is up to him to speak.
    “I know you will think me once more too secretive,” he said, “but there are things I know which I cannot say to you. Not yet. What you have said is disturbing. No, more than that, it is shocking. But it is honest. You have a potential for self-knowledge, Simon Hartstongue, which may yet be the saving of us. At least I hope so.”
    It is only when he finishes speaking that Johan realises how much they are in need of protection now. “Come. It is almost the final test. And we must face it together somehow. There is so little time.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Sit down with me,” he says. “On the working bench. You will see.”
    Simon does so. The boat begins to travel a little faster.
    Then Johan takes the scribe’s hand, encloses it in his and lifts Simon’s fingers towards his face. As he does so, silver flashes appear on the water. The thought-fish. They dance over the sea in glittering arcs, jumping higher and higher until they surround the boat. In constant movement but somehow remaining still. A wall of light. Simon is finding it hard to catch his breath, but there is little Johan can do to make this part of the journey easier.
    Just before he places Simon’s hand on the side of his forehead, he pauses.
    “Are you ready?” he says. “Because you need to tell me this story—the one you have kept inside yourself for so long—but you must not use words. No. This time, language would be a barrier between us. You must share it with me directly. One soul to another. One mind to another. Only in this way can our journey be fulfilled and the success, if success it is, of our mission known. Are you ready, Simon?”
    “I don’t know,” Simon replies. “I can’t tell you that, but I trust you. Do it.”
    Without another word, Johan lays Simon’s fingers against his head. At the same time, two of the silver flashes dislodge themselves from the bright wall around the men and dance into their minds. And out again.
    Simon cries out as the light and fire engulf them both, take them to the secret mind-world caused by their linking.
    Simon .
    Yes?
    Are you ready now?

Tenth Gathandrian Interlude

    Annyeke
    This time, the elders were meeting outside, in the cedar woods. The recent mind-attacks from Gelahn had been fierce and their series of safe houses were destroyed the night before. As she approached them, Anneyeke wrapped her cloak around her though the air was not cold. Underneath the soft wool, she held the manuscripts she had taken. In her head were all the sensible, but searching, words she planned to say.
    When she reached the elders, she said none of them.
    “How could you do this?” she said, sweeping the hood from her hair and dropping the books to the ground. “ How could you betray us like this? I’ve read what’s in these. I know all of what you’ve done. Oh, you sit there before us like the gods of old, proclaiming this and declaring that , but you’re all liars. All of you. You cheat and betray and kill us when you claim to be our protectors. It is you who have caused this war. It is you who imprisoned Gelahn…”
    The First Elder took a step towards her at the mention of the mind-executioner’s name, but Annyeke wasn’t done yet.
    “Yes, you imprisoned him—in conditions that I wouldn’t put a city-dog in. You showed him no compassion, you even taunted him. Do you not have one handful of mercy in your thoughts? And then you let him go. And for what? To pursue a fantasy of salvation that is mere mist and childishness. There is no Lost One who will return to fight Gelahn and restore all that Gathandria once was. There is no bright and magical future. There is only the war you have released upon us and our neighbours, the misery and death you have brought to thousands. How can you do this and still believe that you have the right to govern us with your so-called wisdom? How can you even live with yourselves after what you have done?”
    In the silence after Annyeke’s outburst, the colours around the elders turned crimson and black. Guilt and shame, she thought. Well, she had no comfort for them. At her feet, the books began to hum.
    “How did you find that