The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

scrabbled at the soldier’s loose armour and then the two of them were rolling over and over together across the parkland. He could see them no more. At the same time, the clash and din of battle rose to an even greater height. Blood splashed over the earth and a falling body almost crushed his leg. He knew then it was the first of the Gathandrians to die. But please, by the gods and stars, not Johan. Not Johan.
    Please, great Spirit, help us.
    He turned towards Ralph, the need to find safety for them both uppermost in his mind, but strong fingers seized his shoulder, hauled him upwards, and spun him round. Just before he found his balance again, Simon spun a mind-net round the Lammas Lord. He didn’t know how effective that might be, but for the sake of the past and, yes, his own illogical heart, he had to try.
    The man he stood facing was a very different concept. But then again, perhaps not. The mind-executioner’s eyes shone a deeper shade of black against the dusky afternoon light, all but night now, and the scribe shivered.
    No. Gelahn’s next words cut through Simon’s thoughts and left scars where understanding should have lain. From now on, you will stay with me. Always. Together we will win this war and rule over the land. Everything will then be as it should and the past will never have been at all.
    The scribe gasped.
    Gelahn smiled. But none of that matters, does it? Now you have me. You are at last on the winning side.
    Then he began to thrust his way through the battling throngs, dragging Simon with him. Blood splashed onto the scribe’s clothes and face as one of the skeleton soldiers plunged a knife into the throat of a hapless Gathandrian. The iron taste in his mouth made him gag, but there was no time for mercy. He stumbled after the mind-executioner, panting hard and fighting to keep upright in the throng.
    From somewhere, he managed to speak, although the words refused to stay in his head. “These…these people, Gelahn. Th-they are not fighters. Please, don’t massacre them, I beg you.”
    He couldn’t see how, amidst the noise and horror, the executioner could possibly have heard his useless speech, but still the man dragging him forward stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Gelahn’s eyes were as impenetrable as the sea that had almost been the end of Simon. Around them, a net of protection cut out the sound of war for a few moments, even though the scribe could still see what was taking place. By the gods and stars, he believed he could see it even if he shut his eyes. Perhaps he would see it always.
    Gelahn spoke into the strange silence and this time his words were not simply those of the mind.
    “These people imprisoned and tortured me,” he said, “for long, long year-cycles that you, in your simplicity, cannot even begin to imagine. Oh, yes, you will say it was their leaders, not the people themselves. But in the mind of a Gathandrian Elder, the voice and desires of the people are most truly heard. Do you think they do not deserve punishment? All of them? And revenge does not rest with a balanced measure but must give back with interest where it was received. You see, my friend, vengeance is the most pure thought that exists through all the lands we know. It brings justice and clears the past of its wrongs. When that is done, then, and only then, will mercy begin. For then will I have the power to show it.”
    Gelahn clicked his fingers and the world came tumbling in again. The scribe’s heart beat wildly at what his captor intended, and how he might fulfil his deadly dream. The darkness seemed to close in around his mind, tear at his flesh. It was impossible to deny it. What the mind-executioner wanted would surely come to pass.
    As Gelahn continued to drag the scribe through the field, intent on some purpose he could not twist out of him, Simon caught a glimpse of the great black cane with its silver carving. The glint of it almost blinded him for a moment or two before the snowfall came between them. At the same time, a current of air swept over him and he glanced up to see the snow-raven as it twisted in flight above. What was the bird doing?
    He had to get the cane and use it against Gelahn somehow. But how?
    The executioner laughed and this time Simon felt the full strength of his presence in his mind. Fire tracked through his thoughts as they had the first time he’d met Gelahn, the first time he’d succumbed to him. He gasped and tried to cry out, but his