The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

eyes, a look full of knowledge. Acceptance, too. The glitter of the sword, the way it felt in her hand as she swung it upwards. The sudden silence as all the stories came to an end. The way even the mind-cane waited.
    My battle , she thought. My war.
    Then the long arc of the sword downwards. The mind-executioner flinging his bloodied arms outwards. Still laughing, as if death were to be welcomed, and all the time he had only been longing for its mastery over him. The edge of the blade sliced through flesh and bone as if it were nothing but water. His head, teeth set in a rictus of smiling, rolled gently away.
    Then the silence truly began.

Chapter Twelve: The harshness of light

    Simon
    The green circle of fire vanished. The Lost One could feel its power returning home to the emeralds scattered around Gelahn. The mind-cane, too, ceased its dance in his hands and fell to the earth. He could hear nothing, the only sensation the sight of the mind-executioner’s bloodied head. Around him, no noise. The battle no longer pierced his ears and the undead soldiers stood stock still a mere hall’s length from them. Even the mountain dogs were quiet although he thought he could glimpse them slinking around and through the bony legs of Gelahn’s deadly troops. What Annyeke had done tore through everything he understood but, even so, it did not seem wrong. Some things had to be, come what may. He wondered if he would have been able to do such an act. Knew then he could not.
    “Please, please …”
    Annyeke’s voice, trembling on the brink of tears, cut through his wonderment and he dropped down to his knees next to her. She held the dead boy in her arms, cradling him as if he might somehow come back to life in the warmth of her embrace. Johan hunkered down a little to one side, his hand on her shoulder, the warmth between them flaring out like a beacon or the morning sun.
    It was lighter now, Simon noticed. Had a whole night passed while they were fighting this deadly war? How had the time escaped him so quickly?
    Ralph was crouched on all fours on the ground, his body shaking. The fact of him flowed through the scribe’s mind and he could feel the currents of relief and despair battling for supremacy in the Lammas Lord. He had no notion which of them would be the victor. Neither had he the time to discover it, now.
    “Please…?” Annyeke said again.
    The Lost One took her into his arms. Talus’ young blood smeared them both and its iron scent filled the air.
    “What can I do?” he asked her.
    She pulled away from him, the light of decision glowing in her eyes. You can make Talus live again, Lost One, if you want to…
    Simon sprang to his feet, backed several steps away from her. Her words filled his thoughts like an accusation. No. I cannot do that. I failed before when… when…
    The memory of Carthen’s death on his journey here haunted him. He had been responsible for that boy and had failed in his duty then. Now, another boy was dead. Not his charge this time, no, but important to a woman he cared for. He should try to bring him back, for Annyeke’s sake, but the anticipation of failure held his feet rooted to the earth. He could neither move forward nor back.
    “You have to try, Simon,” Johan whispered. “We cannot leave the end of this war like this. There is grief enough, I know it, and a reckoning to be had by us all, but please, will you help him?”
    The Lost One did not know. His thoughts felt as if they had been crushed under a great weight and his body likewise. He was not strong enough to attempt this, his energies gone. How could he bring hope, life even, when he had so little of either?
    A wave of longing not his own broke over him, and his eyes were pulled to where Ralph sat defeated and strangely slight. This time, the Lammas Lord stared directly at him, his eyes as dark as the memory of death.
    You, Simon Hartstongue of the White Lands, he said, the mind-words passing only between the two of them, you can do anything you wish to.
    Without knowing that was what was in his mind, the Lost One bent down, seized the cane from the earth where it slumbered and was at Talus’ side in a heartbeat.
    Give him to me.
    Annyeke didn’t even hesitate. The dead child slid from her arms into his. Simon could feel nothing from the boy. Not a spark, not a glimmer of life. He didn’t know if he could do this, but something in Ralph’s words had challenged him. Made him think it might even be true. In