The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

choice. Not if we want to be alive when the spring-cycle arrives next year. Nothing frightening has happened yet, and that makes people relax their guard. But, believe me when I say this: it will happen . Gelahn will not accept defeat in the arena of the mind and will fight us hand to hand, limb to limb and weapon to weapon. Because of Ralph Tregannon and the Lammas People’s training in war, he will be stronger than we are. That is why we have to use the mind-cane if we can, and the only door to that is you. We must do what we are able to, but the only advantage we have is you, and…”
    His companion stuttered to a halt and wiped away sudden tears. As Simon reached across, uncertain what to do with a crying woman, but realised he had to do something. She shook her head and backed away from him. In a matter of moments, she’d propped herself up against the kitchen work area and could go no further. There, as Simon half stood, she began to weep in earnest, letting the tears fall without shame.
    “Annyeke…please, I’m sorry if…” Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the nearest, cleanest looking piece of cloth and offered it to her. She nodded and took it, wiping her eyes, but continued to cry. At the touch of her hand, great swathes of despair and confusion, red and black and grey, flooded over his thoughts. It felt as if he were drowning in her emotions. Falling, falling . He snatched his hand away, but the sensation of falling remained. Just like in the Kingdom of the Air, his feet hovered over nothing and he had no strength to haul himself to safety.
    Annyeke.
    He couldn’t find the ability to speak out loud but had to rely on the merest wisp of thought. His eyes told him he was still half standing and must appear no different to her, if she chose to glance at him. But inside he was being destroyed, and not slowly either. Annyeke.
    “Wh-What is it?”
    Please…you’re…drowning…me.
    For a moment longer she stared at him. Then, she took a deep breath and placed her hands on her forehead, as if in an attempt to contain herself. The length of the start of a winter story later, Simon felt his mind being liberated from the pain and grief that had imprisoned it.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping the tears from her face, “I’m sorry. I felt…everything overwhelmed me for a moment. I didn’t imagine it would affect you like that. Are you all right?”
    He nodded, found himself sitting on the floor, half leaning against the table. He could sense Annyeke’s continuing struggle and wondered if her feelings might overpower them both again. As sweat sullied his vision, Simon saw the snow-raven spread his wings, lean forward and open his beak. He blinked and the picture crystallised into precision. He thought the bird might sing or perhaps speak to him in the way that had happened before. Instead, one single blue sphere slipped from the raven into the air. A perfect circle. As the mind-cane began to hum, the scribe reached forward and took the circle. It warmed his fingers like a good fire on a winter night.
    “What is it?” Annyeke’s voice whispered both in his ear and in his thoughts, but he shook his head.
    “I don’t know.”
    Without warning, the circle elongated around Simon’s hand and spun a web of blue air around the two of them. He gasped and was about to move when Annyeke grabbed his arm. Wait. It’s not hurting us.
    That was easy for her to say—and in the thinking of it he knew she’d heard him. Her wry smile told him that. Several heartbeats went by and then the air around them was its usual self again. The cane, also, was silent. The snow-raven folded his wings and cocked his head onto one side. Glancing down, Simon saw a faint blue tinge to his fingers, as if something was lying just below his skin. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of that, but the most important fact right now was that the sense of oppression and despair had been lifted. Even Annyeke’s tears were dry. Unable to stop himself, he reached inside his inner tunic and touched the feather the snow-raven had given him at their first meeting. Somehow, it gave him strength.
    Annyeke raised her eyebrows at him and laughed.
    “I don’t feel quite so hopeless now,” she said. “Thank you.”
    “It was the raven, not me,” he replied, but his words merely made her frown again. However, her frown was directed at the bird and not at him, he realised, and then the sudden link with her mind opened out within