The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

he walks.
    And all the time, questions dance in Simon’s brain. Why have they done this? Why has their lord turned against them now? And who is the stranger?
    When he comes to the sleeping area, the curtain has gone and the bed is nothing more than a pile of ripped cloth and hay. He is just about to turn aside, and puzzling if he dares go near the castle to see if his parents are imprisoned there, when he hears a scuffling sound. Followed closely by a sigh.
    Swinging around, he sees the bed-clothes are moving. He is poised to run once more when his father’s voice echoes through the air.
    “Simon? Is that you?”
    “Yes,” he says. “Yes, father, it’s me.”
    Crouching down, Simon sees pale fingers reach out from under the cloths. He leans forward to help but the dark mound rises, throwing off the bed-clothes, and swoops towards him. The impetus propels them both back and he lands with a thud against the far wall, his father’s face only inches from his own. He can smell sweat and the staleness of dried blood.
    “It’s your fault,” Simon’s father whispers and his words make Simon begin to cry and shake. “All of this. It’s your fault. ”
    “I d-don’t understand,” Simon snivels. “I d-don’t… Where’s my mother? ”
    Simon’s father slams him hard against the wall and then shoves him to one side, so he falls and scrabbles amongst the crockery and rushes.
    “At the castle,” he growls. “Where do you think, you stupid little…?”
    He drags Simon to his feet again. Simon closes his eyes and braces himself for more knocks, but feels none. Instead, gripping him so he can’t move, his father unleashes a torrent of low words, only some of which he can understand.
    “Yes, it’s your fault. We were good, we were happy together before you arrived. She and I, we meant something. I’d never met anyone like her before, I’d never… And then she wanted a child, she wanted you, knowing what it would mean. Knowing that as you grew up, you might share some of her…powers, and as you reached puberty, so would her own gifting grow. Until it couldn’t be unnoticed, until what she is can no longer go unpunished. Tomorrow, Simon, your mother must die. She must die, and I will have to watch it.”
    Simon is crying now, sobbing and panting like a helpless baby, but his father has not finished yet.
    “I hate you for what you’ve done,” he says, teeth clenched. “I hate you, and I swear by the gods and all the stars above that I want to see you no longer.”
    With that, Simon’s father at last releases him, slaps him across the face with the back of his hand and pushes him down onto the floor. Simon has no notion of what he might do. He can’t think, can’t feel.
    “Please,” he begs him. “Please…”
    “ No. Be silent.” He slaps Simon once more, this time on the mouth so he tastes blood. All his words—if Simon even had any—vanish.
    Simon’s father stands up. Simon remains, trembling, at his feet.
    “There is more,” he whispers, hands flickering to his head in the light from the window. “More I must do now. More I must say. Your mother…your mother cannot do for you what should be done because you are a half-breed. That gifting is lost to her now. She has—in the brief moment we had together—she has given it to me to carry. She knew you would come back. But I cannot hold it long. It will destroy me. What is to be done must be done. And quickly.”
    Then Simon’s father grabs him. Whimpering, he tries to get away, but has nowhere to go. His father straddles him where he lies and grasps his right hand. The hold is painful, almost making him cry out, and he is breathing heavily as if he has run many field lengths.
    His father lays Simon’s hand against his head, squeezing his fingers flat on his temple. Light—strange light—begins to sparkle and leap from his skin to Simon’s, burning a path along his arm and up to his shoulder. There it crackles and hisses, forks a lightning flash across Simon’s neck and into his head. He feels its energy searing the flesh and opens his mouth to scream, but no sound emerges.
    “There, take the gifting,” his father speaks, but Simon hears his voice as if from an impossible distance. “Take it all. ”
    And then he is beyond hearing. Water roars in his head and his thoughts explode into a life and terror he has never known before. He sees images of things he has never seen—mountains, close up, shadowy people and a great,