The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

courage or strength that drives me, but fear. I have to get out. As if an unknown voice has spoken aloud into my mind, I know I must escape and soon. For it is from the sculpting-room that the mind-net gathers its power. If I stay, I will die and truly.
    Each time I drag myself onward, knives flicker and dance through my body. In my mind , I am almost beyond pain, the understanding of it more than I can acknowledge, but skin and bone take the brunt of the attack. I drag myself through the sticky warmth of my own blood. Nausea hovers in my throat, but I turn aside from its lure. I cannot afford to give in to anything that takes me away from the task of reaching the outside. Nearer and ever nearer, and now the howling is louder, too.
    I should know what that means , but the memory is lost to me.
    And , finally, I am there, the heavy curtain brushing my head, adding its weight to the torment of both flesh and mind, and the night air pulling me into itself.
    Softly, slowly, I fall into snow. It layers the ground. The cold is like another source of pain, but it pierces the darkest of nights surrounding me. At the same time, the howling stops. It is then I remember the mountain dogs. Drawn by the scent of my blood from whichever hell they have been hiding in, I sense their lust for meat just as the knives of the mind-net finally release me.
    There is one thought only in what sense of myself I have left . No matter what, and may the gods and stars take me, but I must reach Annyeke.
    *****

    Annyeke cried out as the death story of the First Elder filled her thoughts and a s it came at last to its end, even though somehow in the real time-cycle it had lasted only a moment—a long, low cry full of foreknowledge she could not express. At the same time, the First Elder flung himself upon Iffenia where she still held Annyeke pinned to the earth and tore at her arms and throat. Iffenia fell sideways as if a wave from the sea had swept her clear. She screamed, a sound that pierced Annyeke’s mind, made her press her hands to her ears, even though it wasn’t purely physical.
    She scrambled back from the struggling Elder and Iffenia. She found herself helped to her feet by the nearest Gathandrian women, stood swaying in the falling snow as the concern of those around her clothed her.
    Iffenia was still screaming. The breath from her throat spun crimson into the chill white air. Her head was turned aside from the Elder’s sightless face and Annyeke could not blame her. His eyes seemed to be melting, red flames pouring over his skin and over Iffenia’s body also. Annyeke cried out, trying to take a step towards them, though she had no idea what she might do to help, but those around her held her back, shielding their faces from the sudden influx of burning heat.
    Another scream, a burst of wild green fire streaked with that terrible red, and everything in the immediate vicinity fell silent. It was as if a barrier had been placed between them and the larger world so that none could cross over the boundary to reach them and neither could any of them escape into whatever lay beyond. Even the snow vanished for the space of two heartbeats.
    Then the Gathandrian world, its pain and its hopes, its battles and its dreams of peace one day, came floating back, and Annyeke could see that where the First Elder and Iffenia had been fighting, only one body remained. It was blackened and ruined beyond anything she had seen before. The taste of bile once more filled her mouth and she spat it out. The woman next to her vomited into the snow and Annyeke held her shoulders, murmuring sounds she hoped were soothing, although her words were blank.
    When someone else was strong enough to take over, Annyeke took a breath and walked toward the destroyed corpse.
    It took all her courage to do so. With each step, she told herself she had no choice but to discover the truth. She was Acting Elder and this was her responsibility. But, even although she had understood the weight of the role she had taken on, she had never imagined it would be so difficult.
    Not like this.
    She knelt down beside the body. Aware of the demands that would meet her when she turned round—the newly-commenced battle and the need to defend their land—she peered down into the face of the dead Gathandrian.
    It was the First Elder. The colours of his mind tinged the surrounding air in shades of green and black before bleeding into nothingness. In her mind, she intoned the traditional