The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

happened, the still raven under her hands would not suddenly stir or open its eye at her. If it did, she was sure she’d scream and flee. Not a good plan for the Elders’ chosen leader.
    “I can hear him,” the Scribe answered simply. “In my head.”
    Unable to stop herself, Annyeke made a quick pass through the top level of Simon’s thoughts. She couldn’t sense anything out of place there. Whatever he was experiencing must be somewhere deeper or it was hidden by the mind-cane. She didn’t think he was lying.
    “ I’m sorry,” Johan said. “I can’t sense any life at all.”
    “ No .” As the scribe spoke, Annyeke felt a sudden jab in her mind, as if someone had slapped her. At the same time, Simon pushed past her and put his hand on the raven’s snowy back. Johan began to speak, his voice low, reaching out towards the scribe, but she never got to hear what he might have wanted to say.

    Simon
    He knew the raven wasn’t dead. The bird couldn’t be dead. Thoughts and images, a jumble of sea and sky, feather, mountain and desert, were filling his mind. Simon’s heart beat fast and he could feel the muscles in his shoulders begin to ache. If the snow-raven was dead, where were the pictures coming from?
    Nor did he want the raven to be alive. The memory of his strange encounter with the bird, the questions Simon had had to answer to save his life, the attack and the agonising healing of the scar on his face, made him shiver.
    Still, when Annyeke asked him, he took off his tunic, trying to ignore the sudden chill against his skin, and tore it into strips for her. But it was Johan’s refusal to believe the truths that throbbed in his head which drove him to action. Pushing between the woman and the table, he put his hand on the bird. An instinctive gesture only, he hadn’t thought what it might do.
    It woke the raven.
    The bird reared up, its massive beak only a hair’s breadth from Simon’s eye. Wings came up also, spattering blood onto wood and stone. A raucous shriek filled the air. The bird launched itself at him and the scribe ducked. In spite of this, solid claws slammed into his shoulder and he fell, scrabbling at the floor. All the images and strange words in his head disappeared. He could no longer hear the raven within him at all.
    Johan flung himself after the bird, though Simon had no idea what his friend might do if he caught the raven. He missed. At the same time, Annyeke grabbed Talus and pushed him roughly through the door. He wondered whether they should all do the same, though, knowing Gathandrians, that probably wasn’t an option. Meanwhile the raven flew, still shrieking, between walls and ceiling and floor. The table was overturned, jugs and pots fell with a clatter, some smashing to pieces, and an acrid smell of herbs filled the room, almost overpowering the scent of blood.
    Do something then.
    The words were Johan’s.
    How? Simon answered, astonished he could still create a mind-link, however small and tenuous.
    You brought the raven to life. Now you need to calm it again. Soon.
    Breaking the mind-link and wishing he’d never got out of bed since it seemed to have brought nothing but danger and noise upon the whole household, Simon cursed aloud and hauled himself to his feet. In mid flight, the raven all but knocked him down again.
    Simon.
    The link hadn’t been broken then. All right.
    As Annyeke tried to save the rest of her household crockery, Johan sprang after the destroyer of houses once more. His efforts knocked the bird off balance, and the raven fell back towards Simon.
    Heart beating far too much out of control, the scribe stretched out his arms, wrapped them in vain round the great boulder of white feathered power, and man and bird tumbled together to the floor.
    He understood several different things at once. First, the boy, Talus, had gone beyond any sense of fear and was starting, from his relatively safe position outside the door peering in, to enjoy the whole adventure. Simon wasn’t sure how this might help, but at the very least it meant less sense of jaggedness to fight against. And his mind needed all the respite it could seize. Secondly, he realised how much Annyeke hated birds, though he couldn’t fathom why. Thirdly, he found that he, like Talus, was enjoying having something other than himself and the likely fate of Gathandria to focus on. And, finally, he realised exactly how blank and unstable his own mind was.
    As the scribe tumbled down with