The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

the bodies of his companions, Duncan erects a mind-wall and pursues the thought. Up to now, the pain he has used to control his enemies has been based in his mind only. While he still possessed the mind-cane, that power was more than enough . He shakes his head at the memory. He will not dwell on the past, it is the future that is important.
    Equally important is that Hartstongue the Scribe does not know how to harness that power. If he did, then by now Duncan would be beyond death, drowning in the fires that never go out. He snorts a laugh. Has he not already experienced something of that in his former Gathandrian jail where the Elders chose to keep him for so long? By the gods, he will never let that memory go. It gives him strength, strength to fight and keep on fighting. But if his mental powers are less, then why not utilise physical prowess instead? Perhaps now is the time to take his battle into the lands and bodies of men. Perhaps now is the season to begin to build an army in the flesh, time to learn how to inflict physical, as well as mental, pain.
    He turns back to the mountain leader. He smiles. Both of them have much to learn, and quickly.
    Concentrating, he forms an axe in his mind, feels the length and breadth of it, the stalwart wood of the handle and the silver glimmer of the blade. He has not done this before, he has never needed to and he remains unconvinced of its success. But a story’s end-time later, the twin of the axe lies on the stones at his feet. He can feel its weight against his torn shoe. He picks it up and turns to his mountain companions.
    “Come then,” he says. “Let us see what we can discover together.”
    Duncan discovers that mountain people can die without the use of mental tricks, although the process is slower and more exhausting. He also discovers that the stone-dwellers never stop fighting back, and twice he has to pause in what he is engaged in to rebuild the mind-wall that keeps them out. This would have been unnecessary if he still had the cane but, in that case, neither would he have required the axe. He will have to be careful of his mind-skills now. The loss of the cane means he has to spend more time refreshing his thoughts.
    Finally the execution is complete. When the mountain-leader is beyond even the healing of stone, Duncan lays down his axe and slumps to the floor besides the ravaged being. The high keening of the mountain assaults his ears and he wipes the sweat from his face. Beyond the mind- wall’s protection, the dead mountain leader’s companions are mourning, but after a while they fall silent. As stone, he thinks to himself and laughs. They are as silent as stone now. It is the mountain-dogs who continue to roam in the shadows and growl.
    He waits for his strength to return. Then he gets to his feet, rips aside the mind-wall and steps out into the stones’ dark grief.
    “This,” he says, his voice rising like the cry of the wolf on the hunt, “ this is what will happen to you all if Simon the Scribe is allowed to take on his power.”
    As he speaks, he gestures at the fallen stone-man, and even the mountain-dogs cease their frenzied pacing. “For do you truly believe that you will be safe from a man who cannot control the strength the mind-cane gives him? If he becomes master of one-tenth of the power he dreams of, then you, the mountain of the world, will no longer survive. He will blast you out of existence and all your people and legends will be lost. The death I have been forced to show you today will be multiplied beyond all your imaginings and there will be nothing left for you. Is that how you wish your future to be . Is it? ”
    He stares round at the solidity of them, challenging them to act. But they will not fight him—how can they when his strength is greater? They are not so foolish. Still, even as he thinks that, at the edge of his vision Duncan catches a hint of movement from the creature who had been closest to the leader. He turns and stares in its direction and the whisper of rebellion is quelled. Good. No, better—he can use such a fighting spirit in the battles to come. It will be distilled into the heart of the dogs.
    When all continues quiet and no remaining entity of the mountain attempts to move towards him, Duncan speaks again and this time his voice is lower, more persuasive.
    “I am sorry for what I had to do,” he whispers. This is naturally a lie, but no matter. “But the time for old leadership is over for