The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

Shaming for a Tregannon to yield to tears, but he cannot help himself. After the dogs, he is not as he once was. Trying to control the shake in his body, Ralph rolls the emerald he thinks has saved him back to where it belongs before folding the bag secure and tucking it inside his belt.
    Best to find another sanctuary for it, then. But where?

Chapter Six: The battle begins

    Annyeke
    “By all the stars above, what is it with these men? ”
    Nobody answered her. The snow-raven and the mind-cane had followed Simon when he’d left and Annyeke had pushed the door shut to avoid the icy air taking over her domain. Besides, it was an impossible question and it had always been so. Men of any lands were not to be reasoned with.
    She marched round her kitchen, muttering under her breath, clearing away leftover herbs and the remains of the broth, and slamming down plates and beakers. This wasn’t proving to be a good day, and it didn’t seem set to get any better.
    Having been convinced Simon needed time on his own and to explore the legends more fully, Annyeke found that her thoughts now held more than a frisson of doubt. Was it the right thing to do? Should she have let him go at all? A great deal appeared to be resting on her mind alone and, not for the first time, she wondered if the elders had been right about entrusting her with this task, no matter what wrongdoings they had committed.
    Maybe she should have been more careful. The Lost One needed to face many more mind-exercises before he could be truly ready for the war to come. If only they had the time and the space to do this, but the fact remained they did not. It would make sense for Gelahn to fight them just as the winter season came upon them in force. Indeed, the chill in the air as Simon had left told her in no uncertain terms that the first of the snows would surely fall tonight.
    The battle would be fought in ice and frost when bodies and minds were least able to fight at all.
    Annyeke paused in the middle of her frantic and unnecessary tidying and leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. The leaves in the garden had ceased to grow, she noticed. Since the land was now split from the people’s thoughts, she had no idea whether this was because of winter, the coming war or something they had not yet heard of. Knowing the day she was having, no doubt it was the latter.
    She gave a hiccupping laugh, unsure what the foremost emotion in her mind should be, and sighed at her own ignorance. How could she be seen as the acting Elder of Gathandria when she barely knew herself? She shook her head. No, this was not the time to give in to her fears. In fact, it didn’t matter if she was afraid or not, she would do something to stop the darkness coming upon them, or fight her way through it if it had to come. She’d be damned by the gods if she simply turned over and gave up.
    The leaves in Gathandria would grow again, or she’d die in the attempt to nourish them.
    Shaking her head free of all unhelpful thoughts, she took three quick steps, almost at a run, towards the sleeping-area where the legends she’d taken from the Library were kept. While she waited for Simon to return, she would prepare herself for nurturing what he might have learned there so they could all use it, and she’d never found a better way of easing that journey than focusing on the stories they told, the lives from the past that they lived again. Besides, she needed to clarify her mind.
    Afterwards, she remembered the feeling of possibility that had followed her and the way the future had seemed more open than before.
    In the sleeping-area, she gasped and staggered backwards as a torrent of jagged air sprang towards her. It was shaped like a carving dagger. The kind the Glass-Makers used. Just before she leapt to one side and covered her face with her arms, she gained an impression of red and black. It carried with it despair such as she had never known. Lethargy, too. What was the purpose of it all? Before that thought had fully ransacked her mind, she had spun a net to protect herself from this unforeseen enemy. As she landed on the floor, she gave in to the darkness and silence, and lay like a child, whimpering.
    A moment or so later, her native sense told her she was alone once again. She opened her eyes. The room was its usual colour and everything was in its customary place—her bed linen, her jug and basin of water, and her clothes. Nothing appeared to have been