The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

ravaged; he has no liking for this land of grass and rivers. No matter what the elders may say, the game is too much stacked against them. He must think of his sister.
    “You have many questions in your mind, Simon Hartstongue,” he says. “Don’t you? Perhaps too many.”
    Simon gazes up at him. “It’s no crime to be curious. At least as long as one does not act on it. Is it a crime in your world?”
    “Indeed it is not.”
    Moving swiftly, Johan crouches down opposite the scribe, so near that they are almost touching. Keeping the subtle distance required by custom, he looks straight into Simon’s face, marking the wild churning of his thoughts. Even the boy ceases his playing.
    “The cuts on your legs have healed, Simon, but you will always have that scar,” he tells him. “There are some wounds that even Isabella cannot cure. Tell me, did you deserve it?”
    “What do you think?” Simon hisses. “ Yes , I deserved it.”
    “Why?”
    “I killed the woman the blacksmith loved.”
    After a moment, Johan nods. The muscles in his shoulders unclench. He hasn’t expected to hear this admission of wrongdoing so soon from a man such as this, but it is good. It may even help keep them a hair’s breadth in front of the enemy’s pursuit for a while; which is just the advantage they need, when they have no others. Rising to his feet, Johan looks towards the mountains.
    “Then justice has been done,” he says. “Come. We will travel on. And, while we do so, I will tell you the reason for our journey.”

    Simon
    At least Johan was satisfied with what he’d learned. The same could not be said of Simon. They travelled for two more day-cycles, the mountains, with the mysteries they held, growing ever nearer. During that time, Simon learned from where his companions came, and the mission they sought to complete.
    “My sister and I come from a place a moon’s journey from here,” Johan said, as he strode onwards. “Our birthplace, Gathandria, lies over the waters, a place we will come to on our travels. It is a peaceful city, or rather, it was. A place of tall, silver buildings, where the light catches the angles and makes the air brighter. Where we live, we have galleries, shops, theatres and parks. The land around it is full of cedars and pines, of woods flush with lilies in spring and moss in the autumn. Our people are happy, as they live under the wise rule of the Council of Elders. Unlike the Lammas Lands, we do not have lords who rule over us with cruelty and no one can take away what we have. Nobody dies for their crimes. Such an act would be unspeakable.”
    He paused and Simon felt a shiver of his companion’s disgust pass over his skin.
    “It sounds beautiful, this Gathandria,” Simon said. “I envy you.”
    “You shouldn’t. It is not like that now. But, the one major aspect about our people that is a contrast to yours is the fact that all of us, every child born in our country, is a mind-dweller. Like yourself.”
    Simon stopped for a moment and blinked at them both. They did not pause, so he hurried to keep up.
    “I don’t believe you,” he whispered. “It is not possible. Mind-dwellers are that way— I am this way—because of disease or dysfunction or because someone has…”
    He broke off, unable to complete the sentence. Johan finished his words for him.
    “Because someone has gifted you with the ability. Is that what you meant to say?”
    Unable to speak, Simon nodded. The world before him blurred before easing back into focus once more.
    “That is not true,” Johan said. “At least, not entirely. The ability of dwelling in minds is neither a gift given by another, nor a disease to signify shame. Where Isabella and I come from, it is a natural part of our lives, a source of delight, and a sign of growing up. Though, of course, those more experienced help you to live in it.”
    Simon snorted. “As I have said then, it must be a place of paradise that you come from, to know such freedom and not be shunned because of it.”
    Johan smiled and shook his head. “No world is a paradise. And ours is certainly not that now. It is only another land, like the next. The difference is in the customs, and the people.”
    Simon thought for a moment. Something seemed wrong. “So where is this Gathandria? Why have we never heard of it before?”
    “Because, as I said, it is beyond the place of waters, which we have yet to travel through. And there have been no tales to tell. You live