The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

prison.
    “I know. I’m sorry,” she replied, once again laying her fingers on his arm for a moment or two. The touch of him warmed her and she let him go before he could realise it.
    Simon gave her a sharp glance and a brief smile before speaking. “So he’s more like me than we thought?”
    “How so?” This from Johan as he took two or three paces towards the scribe. Annyeke winced as he stepped onto one of her already broken dishes. It cracked into unsalvageable pieces. “You are nothing like the mind-executioner. Nothing at all!”
    The raven unfurled his wings and hissed at Johan. The mind-cane began to tremble.
    The scribe moved quickly to put himself between them and Johan. “You think so? Well, perhaps the fact I’m only half Gathandrian gives me a different point of view. Your Elders release Gelahn in order to bring things to a conclusion. Unfortunately, what they get is a ruined city, destroyed neighbours…and me. And I’ve done nobody any good so far, so all I can think is they must have been wrong in their assumptions about us both. Not only that but, as far as I can see, the mind-executioner has been driven by pain to take up the course of life he’s chosen. When I was with Ralph Tregannon, was I really that different? And, if so, how exactly?”
    The two men glared at each other. Annyeke had never experienced such waves of anger as those crackling in the air between them.
    “It doesn’t matter, does it?” she interrupted before the chaos in her eating area that the raven had instigated began again. “However, unlike the background, what matters is what you’ve done with it, and what matters more than anything is the current time. Yes, I know you’ve brought about bad things, Simon, but not to the degree Gelahn has. And you’re trying to help now, aren’t you?”
    Both men muttered something Annyeke decided against interpreting. The ways of Gathandrian men, however diluted the blood, were beyond her. It was best to take a female approach to the situation.
    “That being the case,” she continued, “what I suggest is this. Simon needs to have a thorough grounding of what our country is and tries to achieve. He also needs to develop his mind-skills enough to use the mind-cane’s power in our battle. I will help him with that. The snow-raven might be able to help, too, though you will understand more of that side of the matter, Simon.”
    Annyeke hoped he did, as she didn’t have a single good idea about that bird at all. But she smiled confidently at the scribe anyway and his expression cleared. So far so good then, in her new role as battle preparation supervisor.
    “So,” Johan said, folding his arms , “what role shall I play, Annyeke?”
    By the gods and stars, she knew even before he’d finished his question that it would have been wiser, perhaps, to give him the role of mind-counsellor. But no, she still felt she was right to be the scribe’s teacher. Besides, after the journey Simon had had to endure to get here, he would need another mind to work with. Familiarity with a mentor could be a curse—one of the first truths Johan had taught her. She wished he’d remembered it, too.
    Annyeke swallowed, the sound of it clogging her thoughts. The raven gave a low-pitched whistle and she realised at once what she’d been forgetting.
    “Johan,” she faced him, leaning over the table, capturing his eyes and not letting them go. “I need you to prepare the people for war in the physical realm. You have battled recently with Gelahn, you know his strategies. You are the one to teach our people to fight. Really fight, with weapons and bodies, not just with their minds. Please, will you do it?”
    His first thought was no . Annyeke sensed that as clearly as if he’d shouted across the room at her. After all, he was Chief Advisor to the Sub-Council of Meditation, not a soldier. Gathandrians hadn’t used physical skills in battle for generations; they hadn’t needed to as their mind-skills had been more than enough protection. Until now.
    “Really?” Simon’s voice made her jump, and she realised that the scribe could hear Johan’s thoughts just as well as she could. “Those mind-skills aren’t doing you much good at the moment, are they, Johan? Your city is all but destroyed, and both the Elders and Annyeke are convinced there’s another battle to come. I know I’m not the bravest person in the lands, but in the days before I came to the Lammas Lands, I would do