The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

disturbed.
    Had she imagined what had just taken place? No, she wasn’t a fool or a dreamer. The mind-knife had been there, glowing as if on fire. Even now, the despair it had made her feel clung to her like the vestiges of night. She could think of no one who could do this but the mind-executioner. But such an act was impossible, as he no longer possessed the mind-cane.
    There was something else, too—in the room. She’d been wrong to assume nothing had changed. Something had. Getting to her feet, she spun round, trying to understand what her mind was telling her.
    Then she saw it—the book of the Legend of the Lost One at the end of the shelf. Where once it had been pristine and glowing with colour, now it was blackened and burnt. How could that be so? The other manuscripts she owned were untouched. She reached out and picked it up. It crumbled in her hands and the smell of charred parchment assaulted her.
    Gagging and struggling for breath, she dropped the book to the floor. At the same time, her outside door opened and footsteps rushed in.
    “Annyeke? Are you here?”
    It was Talus and, with him, Johan. The one man in Gathandria she most longed to see, and also the one she did not. She had never been so grateful that, for whatever reason, they had not stayed long at their battle preparation.
    She glanced up to see Johan lifting the curtain at the far end of the kitchen. “What’s wrong, Annyeke? What happened?”
    As he spoke, leaning over her, she caught a picture of what had taken place at the park. A jumbled series of images— five of the best men and women from the five main districts of Gathandria, together with a handful of followers they trusted most, the theatricals, the glass-makers, the field-tillers, the stone-cutters and the tradesfolk. Johan had tried to inspire them, she could tell, using her words—a fact that made her smile. He’d set up a series of wooden tables turned sideways against the elms to serve as targets, securing them with rope. Annyeke could see in his memory the weapons he’d tried to gather, too—staffs, broken-off branches, table legs. Then, as best he could, Johan had placed the would-be weapons in the people’s hands, showing them how to hold them upright in order to bring them plunging down on an enemy. He had arranged them in a line facing the makeshift targets and had prepared to charge. It had not gone well. Best she didn’t enquire too deeply then; Gathandrian men could be sensitive to failure.
    Talus slipped out from behind Johan and burrowed his way into Annyeke’s arms. Johan made a move to pull the boy away, but Annyeke shook her head.
    “No, please, he’s fine,” she said.
    “What happened?” Johan said again, this time more quietly.
    “I don’t know,” she answered him. “I came into the sleeping-area and there was a wave of such despair and terror, as if a knife made of fire was leaping towards me. I saw it, I swear by all the stars. Then it was gone, and all I was left with was this.”
    Still hugging Talus to herself, Annyeke pointed at the book where it lay on her floor. Johan picked it up. Now some of the pages were moulded together, the parchment fused into one.
    “The fire you saw? It did this?” he asked her.
    She nodded. “I think so.”
    “It must be the executioner,” he said. “He used mind-knives to try to prevent our journey to the Lammas Lands. I didn’t think he could do that without the mind-cane.”
    “He shouldn’t be able to, I know it.” Annyeke gently lifted Talus to one side. “So the burning of the book of legends must be something to do with Simon. He’s gone to the Library by himself and…”
    “He’s done what? ”
    Annyeke clenched her fists and glared up at him. Now was most definitely not the time for him to be angry with her, and she was pleased to see him step back.
    “Yes,” she all but spat at him. “Yes, I know what you’ll say. I shouldn’t have let him go on his own, it’s too dangerous. You would have gone with him. I didn’t, therefore what’s happened here has to be my fault. Well, that’s all very well, Johan, but we don’t have time for prudence, so I had to take a risk. My decision. My responsibility. But, don’t worry, because as soon as we find Simon, we can…”
    All the way through her words, Johan was trying to interrupt her, but she refused to let him. When she paused for breath, and he opened his mouth, a loud explosion shattered the calm of the night outside her home