The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

can only get from his power. As for the scribe? Once the wells of the wisdom the poor fool cannot see have been fully drained, Gelahn will have no more use for him. The mind-cane will then be utterly his, and the executioner can live and rule those under him in perfect freedom.
    Even as these truths fill his thoughts, they are once more in the circle’s passageway, the executioner, the scribe, Tregannon, the snow-raven, the dogs and, most important of all, the great army he has summoned. This time, the journey is a smooth one and as Gelahn lands with his feet planted on soil, arm holding the mind-cane still raised, he understands where it is that his desires have brought him.
    The Gathandrian park with the weak and threadbare army of the Gathandrian men gathered before him ripe for the conquering.
    As he brings the cane down to his side, the massacre that will lead to peace at last has its way.

    Annyeke
    The winter cold was settling in and, without the great Library’s bulk, the winds from the south had nothing to stop them. Annyeke shivered as she rose to her feet, still thinking of the silence that had, for a short while, been so delightfully hers. Bringing herself back to the present, she allowed her command to cease the stories’ collection to flow from her thoughts and out to her companions.
    From across the park, a great flash of emerald fire exploded through the trees. The roar of it deafened her inner mind, knocking her backwards and onto the ground again. She scrabbled for safety and a wave of cool flame passed over her. It was a thousand times more deadly than the Library fire. Annyeke felt a terrible darkness hidden within the light, but all she could think about were Johan and Talus. They were at the park, battle-training. What was happening to them? And all the time, around her, women and children were crying and, from further away, men were shouting.
    The terrible sound passed into the distance, but something had been left behind, something she couldn’t grasp. She couldn’t see anything in the immediate vicinity. Iffenia had vanished. Where was she? They had been standing together and now the other woman had gone. She should have paid closer attention to her. Only the snow and the feeling of loss cloaked Annyeke. Something had happened, the world was wrong, off kilter more than it had been.
    Shaking her head to dispel confusion and concern about what her missing companion had done, and why, Annyeke scrambled to her feet, shaking off soil and grass from her skirts. She could see other people were following suit. Heart beating fast, she knew something more was expected of her, now more than ever. She shut her eyes and concentrated. It didn’t take long to find what she sought for, the air all but vibrated with it. Gelahn and his forces were already upon them. Too soon. They had once more breached the sacred gap between worlds and were, even now, streaming in through the far side of the park. Because of Iffenia? By the gods, she could not be sure.
    She opened her eyes again. For a long moment, Annyeke’s glance took in the salvaged tales of her people, those from the destruction of the library and those they had shared aloud and in their own hearts today. She knew then what she had to do.
    Listen.
    She hadn’t thought the word she’d carved out in her mind would have the effect that it did, but everyone around turned towards her at once. Even in the midst of this new emergency, Annyeke found she was pleased with the ability to garner such instantaneous attention. She, Acting Elder of the Gathandrian people, had to rise to the occasion.
    Take up the stories , she said, using only her thoughts to convey the command. Take them quickly and follow me. The enemy is here and we must meet with him, before it is too late for us.
    She gathered an armful of stories, old and new, from the stacks near the once majestic Library and began to run towards the sound of the explosion. She didn’t need to look back to know the women were copying her act, hurrying after her even in spite of the orange streak of fear that gripped them. It hovered over them all. In Annyeke’s arms, the tales made her skin prickle, words rubbing against her flesh as if singing in a voice she was unable to reach after. She had no time to listen to them. All she could think about was Talus and Johan in the park, where she could see a bright tongue of green fire rising to the skies and then falling, over and over again so there was no