The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

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    “With that, Kadron rested his hand on his enemy’s shoulder, hoping by that gesture to bring about the resolution he and his people so desperately needed. Javagathlon lifted up his left hand to take hold of the Man of Fortitude’s fingers. And, with his right, still clutching a weeding knife, he cut off Kadron’s hand.
    “Kadron cried out and the sky above echoed the pain. Even the unseen stars from which all things were made twisted in agony at such a betrayal. And the blood flowed free, so free that none could stop it.
    “Javagathlon laughed as his opponent began to die. But that laughter was his undoing also. With his final breaths, Kadron snatched the weeding knife with his remaining hand and plunged it into the Man of Lust’s throat. The two men were dead. Lust and Fortitude breathed no more.
    “For a long time then, silence reigned supreme over the battle, although no more fighting took place. With the death of both leaders, the spirit of conflict left the people and the only emotion remaining was grief and, on the part of the Followers of Lust, fear too. Javagathlon’s men fled, but were captured or cut down as they ran. Soon, only a few remained. In the end, Fortitude triumphed over Lust, but the cost for both was high. It took many generation-cycles for peace to have its full way in their land and, even now, the tale of Fortitude and Lust is told to all New Landers when they are old enough to hear its message. And, of course, it is the basis of all Gathandrian tales.”
    *****
    When Annyeke finished the First Legend of Gathandria, her hair was damp with sweat and she could taste the salt of tears on her tongue. The First Legend had always brought tears to her mind, but never in such quantities before. She was even shaking. What did this mean? As she opened her eyes, she could see the scribe stepping past the mind-cane on the floor and striding towards the water jug. She could sense many emotions in him, the chief of which was concern for her.
    “And what lesson must I take from this?” Simon whispered, as if talking only to himself. “Such a bloody war and the victory, such as it was, scarcely won. What wisdom is there here?”
    She tried to reply but could not. The room around her, so familiar and so safe, suddenly appeared to be somewhere she’d never seen, filled with unknown dangers. To her right, there was a flurry of white movement and she half gasped, half screamed as the snow-raven plunged towards her. As she dived under the safety of her work desk, one white feather touched her neck and fire seared her skin. This time she screamed for real, but the bird swooped on, heading for Simon.
    The Lost One turned, the glass beaker he was filling with water sparkling in the light. Beaker and water jug tumbled to the stone floor and his hand flew to his face as he took a step back. The bird’s beak closed round Simon’s wrist, forcing him across towards the table where the raven slammed his hand down on the mind-cane, itself vertical and trembling now as if poised for action.
    Simon cried out and a tongue of fire rose from the ebony cane, licking its way over the scribe’s fingers. Careless of the strange fire searing her own mind, and despite the presence of the bird, Annyeke flung herself out from beneath the table and towards him. She had no idea what she would do when she got there but she couldn’t crouch helpless and do nothing.
    The bird let go. The mind-cane sizzled and sang. Simon reared backwards, his hand burning, and swept the cane away from him. His eyes were wide with fear. As he turned, surely to run, his fingers touched Annyeke’s face. Touched and clung, as if melded to her flesh.
    A bright river of blue filled her head. The fire in her thoughts groaned and vanished. From her mouth, a spark of red appeared and dropped to the floor. A heartbeat later, a spark of purple followed. The sparks solidified and became small jewels of colour on the floor. They trembled twice and were still. The heat on Annyeke’s face eased and she knew she was herself again.
    She could hear Simon’s uneven breath, feel his panic continuing to rise, the sensation made fifty times more powerful by his touch. If she didn’t do something to calm him soon, he would be out of control.
    “ Simon,” she whispered, but only aloud. She understood that further shocks would be more than unwelcome right now. She hoped her voice alone would be enough to steady him.
    “Y-Yes?” His eyes turned to