The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

hand, and ignoring the pain in his legs and face, Simon ran blindly into the flames, all but dragging the boy with him. For a moment he was engulfed by darkness, searing heat, and an almost unbearable loneliness.
    Help me.
    The next instant, the shape of the trees and the faint moonlight returned, and he could see the figures of Johan and Isabella racing towards them. Isabella’s long blonde hair was plastered across her white face. When he saw Simon and the boy, Johan came to a halt, clutching a branch of the nearest tree. As Simon came closer, limping through grasses, he could see Johan’s face was bathed with sweat. With the light of the mind-flames behind, the sweat looked like blood. Johan’s eyes flickered over his face and lingered for a moment on the knife wound. He then looked at the boy and nodded.
    He seemed as if he would speak out loud, but then shouts of fury rose from the village behind them, together with the sound of swift pursuit. Johan reached for Isabella.
    Run , Johan’s voice said in Simon’s thoughts. We will follow. Trust us .
    Simon obeyed. He certainly wasn’t planning to stay. He and the boy scrambled along the path, back in the direction of the well and, beyond that, the distant mountains. Johan and Isabella followed.
    As he ran, he realised his legs were bleeding as if slashed by glass, but he kept on running. There was nothing else to do.

Fourth Gathandrian Interlude

    Annyeke
    When she opened her eyes that morning, Annyeke sensed that something was different. At once, she sat up straight on the bed and gazed around her. Everything was as it should be; her collection of legends was intact, and everything else appeared to be in its usual place, too. Her skirts and overshirt were folded up on the bedside stool where she’d left them, and her combs remained scattered near the window.
    Next to her, Talus lay sleeping, curled up on the blankets. She smiled at him and brushed a strand of hair back from his face. He didn’t stir.
    What was it then?
    Reaching for a cloak as protection against the morning chill, she eased herself out of bed and padded through to the cooking area. No change there either, though the smell of chicory soup lay heavy in the air, making her wrinkle her nose. She should have rinsed the dishes the night before. Not something she ever did usually, but perhaps now she was a step-mother, of sorts, she should try to act more responsibly.
    Smiling, she shook her head. Or perhaps not. No reason to change too many habits at once. She didn’t want to frighten herself. That was the job of the enemy.
    As she poured water from the jug into the basin for washing, she glanced out the window. And gasped. She replaced the basin and looked again. Yes, she’d been right. As quickly as possible, she ran back to the sleeping area to check on Talus. The boy hadn’t stirred.
    She hugged her cloak around her and walked outside to the area of garden adjacent to the cooking window. Not able to believe what she was seeing, she stared again.
    The lemon tree in the garden now had one single leaf. Not a particularly beautiful leaf or one that looked as if it would survive long, but still it was there. In autumn. For many moon-cycles since the war began, no trees in the city had sprouted leaves at all. Let alone flowers or fruit. She glanced around at her neighbours’ gardens. Talus’ plum tree also had two small leaves and she thought that, further along, there might have been one or two more. Had anyone else noticed? No, it was too early for that.
    Here, at the dawn of another difficult day in Gathandria, Annyeke was alone with this one small miracle. She thought about all the things she should do to rejoice in this marvel—laugh, shout, scream, rouse her sleeping neighbours so they could rejoice with her. It was what, with all her heart, she wanted to do. That was who she was: a small, spiky red-headed woman who couldn’t keep things to herself. Or most things anyway.
    Something stopped her. The leaf itself was calling to her. Not in words she could hear, of course, but in a place in her mind she had hardly known existed. The leaf was singing. She walked forward until she stood right next to the tree. Although it was impossible, the scent and flavour of lemons flowed over her skin and she found she was smiling
    The tree, she thought, the tree was dreaming. And for so long they had no dreams here. The land had been silent for longer than anyone could remember.
    She reached out, her