The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

he can, Duncan flings out the combined net they have created, a fluttering melding of blue, red and black, and watches as it wraps around the noise, the darkness and the terror.
    The sound of the emerald is cut off and only the howling of the dogs remains. Duncan drags air into his lungs, but cannot get enough of it. In his arms, Simon is shaking, but he is still alive, still conscious, and that is what they both need to be in order to survive.
    The journey must end.
    Duncan barely has time to acknowledge that the words in his mind come not from himself but from the scribe when there is a flash of silver and black, the darkness rolls away and he lands with a thump on earth and grasses. Turning his head, he sees the Lost One next to him. In Simon’s fingers nestles the cane. It looks as if it has been there for a long time. Beyond them both, the mountain dogs are huddled together, teeth bared, beginning to snarl their way into life again. Further beyond them, the snow-raven lies, its wings torn, its great beak open. The mind-executioner cannot tell if the bird lives or not, but there are more pressing matters to consider.
    Without its journeying circle, the emerald spins for a moment out of time in the air and then falls. He lunges towards it, but it is too late. Another hand appears, the jewel sparkles more brightly, twists a little, and lands in the stranger’s outstretched palm.
    Not a stranger. Even before Duncan takes in the man’s dark hair and regal bearing, though what dignity any of them might have laid claim to lies in tatters now, he knows who it is, and, because of that, where he is.
    As Duncan rises to his feet and dusts down his cloak, it is the scribe who speaks first.
    “Ralph,” he whispers.

Seventh Lammas Lands Chronicle

    Ralph
    When he wakes, he expects to see sky and know abandonment, but neither of those assumptions proves to be true. The first thing he sees is a posy of herbs attached to a hook in the ceiling at which he is staring. There is an overwhelming smell of baking rye-bread and he wrinkles his nose. Ralph has never liked rye-bread.
    He tries to move his arm but it’s stiff and, despite himself, a groan escapes his lips. At once a woman’s face appears. It is the same woman he saw before, at the well when the mountain dogs leapt over him and disappeared into the circle of emeralds. It is the woman he tried to drive away. She must have brought him here, wherever here might be.
    “Be still,” a voice says. “You need to rest.”
    For a heartbeat or two, Ralph thinks the woman is saying words into the air without moving her lips and he blinks. But then he realises the voice is one he recognises and it is not the strange woman who speaks at all.
    Another face appears at her side. It is Jemelda and she is frowning. Ignoring any pain he might have, Ralph sits up and grips her arm. “You should not be here. How is the boy? Where is the emerald I gave you?”
    Her eyes widen and she stares at him. At once, he lets her go. It is not the way of the Lammas Lords to touch any servant. He has broken this rule already. To do so again is beyond the accounting. She shakes her head.
    “I am glad to see you ask about Apolyon before the jewels, my Lord,” she says and her tone is dry. “Both are safe enough. The boy is under my husband’s care, in the castle kitchen area, as you left him.”
    “And the dogs?” Ralph asks the strange woman this, assuming she will be the most likely person to know. “They are still through the circle? They have not come back?”
    When he addresses her, she jumps and darts a glance at the cook. Then returning her gaze to him, she shakes her head, steps back and vanishes through a curtain into another room. Before the ragged purple velvet swings shut, Ralph catches a glimpse of her friend at the well. She is combing her long hair and her dress is torn at the shoulder, revealing the whiteness of skin.
    It is then he understands where he is and who these women are—the prostitutes of his village, those whom they never acknowledge although the men in his army use them often. They are forbidden to speak to such as Ralph, on pain of death in the Hanging Place. Their role in these lands is to do what is asked of them and to be silent in the company of men. It strikes Ralph they have brought him to protection and yet they are the last people who should be concerned for his safety; it would be better for them if he were dead. Moreover, that he is here at all smears