The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

still continues to work its dark magic then. Unsurprising how none of Ralph’s servants have returned and even the castle dogs are barely whimpering, refusing to acknowledge him as he passes. Perhaps they feel betrayed. And, so far, he has done nothing to defend against that unspoken accusation.
    He must find the boy.
    Stumbling out into the deserted courtyard, Ralph glances up at the window of the master bedroom, but sees nothing untoward. For a heartbeat of time-cycle, he wonders if it might be worth building a defence to his mind, just in case Gelahn should think to plunder him, but he dismisses such a foolhardy plan. Ralph cannot keep himself safe from him, not by his own power. Foolish to even try, as such an act would only alert the mind-executioner to a threat. The emeralds have somehow kept him safe, thus far. He must rely on the gods and stars, and luck, for the rest.
    As he turns the corner towards the hidden doorway that leads to the library, it begins to rain and the wounds in Ralph’s leg throb harder. The onset of winter. If Gelahn wishes to train the soldiers to fight, then he has chosen the worst season for it. When the winds and storms attack from the mountains, what little mountains there are left now, there is nothing the people can do but shiver and try to stay indoors. Nevertheless, the executioner has spoken and there is nothing for it but to obey. Even without the mind-cane, his powers are far greater than anything Ralph has ever known. Sometimes he wonders how his enemy has honed them and what has happened to incite him to do so. Gelahn never speaks of it, and Ralph is loath to raise the subject. He has done enough meddling in men’s minds for one lifetime. He wishes no more of it, no matter where his skills lie. It is already too much of a challenge to control his own wants.
    So, even in the bitterest season they have in Lammas, Gelahn will see the army trained to fight the battle he plans for. Ralph will do his best to see his people survive. After all, there is little hope that they will reach Gathandria to fight; even the mind-executioner’s powers cannot magic them there without the cane. It is a hopeless mission.
    Realising this, Ralph smiles before catching the distant sound of the mountain dogs. Shaking, he swings round, eyes darting left and right to ascertain the approach of danger with his hands clasped into fists. While the howling continues, he remains alert, ready to jump and run in any direction, though where he might find any refuge from those murderous hounds he does not know. Nothing happens, although the baying goes on, and he starts to breathe more steadily again. Gelahn must have the dogs trapped somewhere. He is using them as some kind of threat. No more—for now.
    The rain causes the hair to stick to his face and melds his tunic to his body, but Ralph resumes the search. Checking that nobody else is around, it is a matter of moments to reach through the winter jasmine bush and press his fingers onto the fourth stone in height three stones from the corner. It gives easily and the darkness within lurks like a warning. As if he has not had enough of warnings already. He shuts his eyes and concentrates, trying to ignore the rain, and always the sense of time and power slipping through his grasp.
    He imagines the narrow passageway ahead, cobwebs hanging from dank corners and the feel of small cobbles underfoot. He doesn’t enter it though—he is afraid that, if he does, then Gelahn will sense Ralph’s arrival so near to where he has demanded to stay. So he allows the half-skills of his mind to float along the familiar route, alert for anything unfamiliar there, anything living.
    He senses nothing. The boy, Apolyon, is not there. He must have fled to the bridge where Ralph had told him to seek refuge. The Overlord does not have the heart to blame him, though he wishes now that he’d told him to take the emeralds. If he has obeyed his master’s foolishness and they are still in the library, then they will have to be rescued at another time, somehow. Or, perhaps, they are safer there after all? He cannot tell and, in any case, it doesn’t matter. For now, Ralph must seek the boy.
    Pulling the stone door back into its wall, the slight scrape seems to echo even in his thoughts and he scans the courtyard again. No sign of life. He remains undiscovered yet. Wishing he’d brought his cloak, he hunches down and limps as quickly as possible in the rain along the yard and