The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

streaming with tears now, he saw white. He was still falling, but more slowly. Controlled. He couldn’t understand what it was, but clung to it. The impossible dream of rescue.
    Staring upwards, he could see nothing but a deep, stark blue. No Gelahn, no mind-cane. But still his hand clutched softness. Strength also. It was then that he became aware once more of the singing. Now he remembered what it was. He turned to look at whatever it was he held on to and saw the truth of it.
    A dark eye, slanted beak and white wing. No, not just one, but many, many scores of them. Bearing him with their wings and carrying him gently downwards.
    The snow-ravens.
    Something in Simon’s stomach stirred in response to their insistent music, and he felt the bitterness within. But the taste in his mouth was sweet.
    “Thank you,” he whispered, muscles in arms and neck unclenching at last. “Thank you.”
    A sudden jolt and the breath was punched out of him once more. He had landed. Somewhere. The ravens released their hold, wings brushing against his skin as they folded them home. It felt like the gentlest breeze.
    Another wing brushed Simon’s hair, this time insistently, as if to attract his attention. One of the birds hopped across his vision. Larger than the others, his expression piercing. He recognised their leader. His eye met Simon’s, and darkness shivered around him. Darkness and clarity. Free of fear. Then, with another beat of his wings, the snow-raven took flight. The other birds followed. First one, then another and another, until all of them had disappeared back into the sky. He watched them until they were no longer in view.
    It didn’t take long for the heat to sear his consciousness. The ground was burning him up. As it had been in the desert. He forced himself to stand, though he could still feel the warmth through the leather of his shoes. It was then that Simon saw him.
    Gelahn.
    “Do you want to kill me?” Simon asked. “But my stories and their power won’t let you? Or…Or is it the mind-cane itself that frustrates your desire?”
    If he had hoped to goad the other man, his hope was thwarted. Gelahn merely smiled and lifted the cane into his other hand. The lilting song of the movement stormed Simon’s thoughts for an agonising moment before it stilled again.
    “Rather,” he said, “it is how I plunder those I intend to kill. Servants, like Ralph and Isabella, can be found anywhere, given time. Enemies are rarer.”
    The mention of Ralph’s name caused Simon to take a step back. “How can I be an enemy when in the end your power over me is absolute? You could destroy me any time you wish, both body and soul. Or so you say. Is your power weaker than it was, Gelahn?”
    A moment’s hesitation, smile forgotten, and the cane slid from Gelahn’s hand. He caught it with his other and by the time Simon looked at his face again, the smile had returned.
    “Ah,” he said. “The game is not wholly in the kill, but in the hunt.”
    Simon stepped back once more, feet burning where he stood.
    “So,” he shrugged, “where will the next game be?”

    Johan
    “Where is Isabella? Simon? What’s happening?” Johan runs towards the wall of flame and night, heedless of Annyeke’s shouted warning.
    It’s too late. A sudden force knocks him off his feet again, and he lands on his back on the soil, winded. Annyeke rushes to help.
    “It’s a mind-wall,” she says, although he has already realised it. “A strong one. You can’t get through.”
    That much is obvious. Johan has never seen anything so powerful, or so terrifying.
    “Isabella,” he whispers. “Did you see her? Is she…alive?”
    “I don’t know. It might be a trick. Something to weaken us.”
    “Where are they?” he stares around wildly. “ Where are Isabella and Simon? ”
    “The enemy has them behind his defences,” the voice belongs to the First Elder and Johan looks at him, automatically giving him the due obeisance. It feels good to see his rulers after so long. “They are as yet unharmed.”
    By his side, Johan is aware that Annyeke is as still as ice. She makes no move to respond to the elder. Something has happened, but the situation is too out-of-control to seek answers. Also there is something odd about her, as if in his absence she has discovered another kind of strength. Surely Annyeke is strong enough for five Gathandrians in any case. Still, no time for anything but the immediate crisis.
    “But for how long will