The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

leadership. But I do not carry this burden alone. My friends and companions are with me—Johan Montfort, Simon the Scribe of the White Lands, my charge Talus and…and the snow-raven, a traveller from the Kingdom of the Air. Not only that, but we, the people of Gathandria, work together and we are never without help. As long as we live and move and have our being in this land, we will stand together. And we will fight against our enemy, the Mind-Executioner, who threatens to destroy all things.
    “Up to this point, the battle has been only in the mind, but it has been a harsh one. We believe that when the Mind-Executioner strikes again, he will also confront us in the physical realm. He has no other choice; the mind-cane is no longer his. So the battle will be on two fronts. But we have a plan to prepare ourselves for this ordeal. My colleague and overseer, Johan Montfort, with the help of Talus, will prepare our people for physical battle. Both of my friends have suffered much and are willing to take this duty for the sake of Gathandria’s survival. As for the realms of the mind, I and Simon the Scribe will lead that area of our training. With the kingdoms of body and mind combined, I believe we can fight our enemies and win, for ourselves, for our families and friends, for Gathandria and for our neighbours who rely on our oversight. But it is you, the people who made this city, who will bring success or failure to our endeavours. So I appeal to you all, on behalf of Gathandria’s great Spirit, please, will you put your minds, hearts and bodies to this worthy cause?”
    She felt clarity easing through her thoughts. Nothing more to say. Nothing more she could tell them.
    A silence.
    Then, as if from nowhere, a vast shout, heard in the air and in the mind.
    Yes.
    The word was magnified countless times. The echo of it filled the Square of Meeting. It reached the trees and all but ruined yellow grasses of the park. It sang through the broken glass and broken buildings of the city. Even guessing at everything that might be to come, Annyeke smiled. It was enough—for now.

The First Gathandrian Legend: Fortitude and Lust
    Simon
    All this was bigger than he’d imagined. The earlier scenes at what Johan had called the Square of Meeting had swept through the scribe and he couldn’t rid himself of the taste. It should have made him more confident. The fact that the people of Gathandria had accepted Annyeke’s leadership and, by default, his own presence here should have helped. He knew that.
    But it didn’t. It made him feel overwhelmed. How could he possibly live up to what they might expect of him? With his history of betrayal, murder and downright cowardice, how could he really help? Still, he mustn’t think like that. He’d changed since leaving the Lammas Lands. He wasn’t the same man, so he must find a new way of meditating about himself. The past remained, but today he could not mend what he had done. Other pressing matters called him.
    On the floor next to him, the mind-cane quivered and began to whine. Simon shook his head to displace his thoughts and tried to imagine nothing. After a moment, the high-pitched noise stopped and he breathed again. Odd how the artefact picked up so strongly on his own emotions; at times he felt as if it was nothing more than an extension of himself. A dangerous thing—he was never sure whether the cane would attack him or defend him. Moreover, it seemed to be too easy to make it angry and so hard to know what it wanted or how he might be supposed to work with it. He still couldn’t believe he’d used it to attack and almost defeat Duncan Gelahn only a few day-cycles ago. That didn’t feel like something he would do.
    He gazed round the room he sat in, glad that Annyeke had brought him here. She called it her work area in the Sub-Council of Meditation. To him, it seemed to be a room of two distinct halves—the calm tidiness of Johan’s area, which made him smile, and the creative muddle of Annyeke’s. The walls were mainly bare stone, apart from three small glass engravings of the park, whose surface was scored with tiny lines, the aftermath of the mind-battles. As a result, their beauty had long since vanished and Annyeke had told him the damage could not be repaired. There was a faint smell of lavender and apples in the air. Being a scribe, Simon’s working area, in those lucky times he’d actually had one, had consisted of wherever he happened to be living. He