The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

hers, wide and glittering.
    “I-I think it’s over. I th-think we’re safe.” She couldn’t stop the stammer, flowing as it was from his mind to hers, but her tone was low, unlike his.
    As she spoke, she hoped she was telling the truth. Glancing round, the mind-cane was motionless again, and the shape of the snow-raven filled the window once more. The mysterious flames in her thoughts and on Simon’s skin had gone, too, almost as if none of it had happened at all. But she knew it had and, may the gods save them both, she knew what it meant, also.
    With a gasp, Simon removed his fingers and broke the link between them. He was trembling. Skittering away from her, he stared at the cane and raven before hugging his arms to himself, as if trying to contain his fear.
    “What was it?” he said. “What happened?”

    Simon
    It had only been a story. Just a story, though a tragic one, and one he couldn’t find his way through. Fortitude and Lust. What was Annyeke trying to tell him and how could this help him to meditate? Should he have agreed to the mind-link narration? No, he still believed persuading her to tell him vocally had been the wisest course of action.
    But then, after she’d finished speaking and he’d still been puzzling over the meaning of what he’d heard, the mind-fire had started and that was when the snow-raven assaulted him.
    He could still feel the tingle of the mind-cane’s power on his flesh. The cane lay quietly enough now and for that he was thankful. Annyeke, too, seemed to be herself again. Fearing to insult her in some fashion, he snatched his hand away from her face where it seemed to have been fused for a few desperate heartbeats of time. Instead, he withdrew to a safe distance, trying to make contact with nothing and no one.
    “What was it? What happened?” he asked her.
    She shook her head, and her eyes, when they turned to his, were full of sorrow.
    “It’s my fault,” she said, her tone as dull as winter dusk. “I should have protected us, but I didn’t. The story I told has worked its way with me as I told it and has laid hold on the lust I carry in my own heart. Look, those are the consequences.”
    With that, Annyeke gestured towards the small stones that had somehow fallen from her mouth while the mind-fire raged between them.
    “What do you mean?” Simon reached instinctively towards the red and purple orbs but Annyeke grabbed his arm to stop him.
    “No! Don’t touch them. Not yet. They might still be dangerous.”
    “In what way? They’re not burning now, are they?”
    “But they could still infect you, Simon. Let them cool further. I need to think about this.”
    His companion looked so down at heart that he tried to think of what best to say to comfort her. This was when he needed the help of the cane and the snow-raven but both remained silent. It was up to him.
    “You say these stones are symbols of your desires?” he began, uncertain of how to proceed.
    “Not my desires ,” Annyeke whispered, her eyes still shining with unshed tears. “You soften the fact. They are a sign of the lust I bear in my heart. My lust for things I want and cannot have, the sparks of evil which can build into a fire so consuming that it can destroy a character, or a people.”
    The scribe swallowed. Did all Gathandrians think in such all or nothing terms? No matter. If the only way to victory and survival was through Annyeke’s care, then he must make sure his Mentor didn’t falter, at least, not so soon in this mysterious training programme.
    “Annyeke?”
    “Yes?”
    “I…I don’t think everything is always as clear cut as you say. If I’ve learned anything from the life I’ve led so far, it has to be that. Besides, in my experience, none of us is perfect. We all carry within us the seeds of both good and bad. It is the circumstances we meet which causes one or the other, or, more likely, both to flourish. In any case, you should count yourself proud that when the story you have just told me burrows into your store of lust, all it can produce are these tiny objects. If it had burrowed into my supply of lust, no doubt the results would have been far greater.”
    Annyeke gazed at him quizzically and then the two of them started laughing. A laughter born of terror and relief and which neither of them could stop for at least the length of a story’s beginning. While they laughed, the snow-raven stepped back and spread out his wings, but made no sound. The mind-cane,