The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

darkness to the Lost One’s call. In spite of all, the bird has come.
    “Look,” Simon cries out, stepping forward, his chest rising and falling with his every breath. “There!”
    The snow-raven is at first nothing more than a flash of white against a blue and white sky, a brighter colour than the clouds, with a dark stripe crossing the shape of the bird leading the way. The sight of this makes Gelahn smile again. In less time than it takes to begin a winter story, the snow-raven is circling above them. Music hums in the space between the men and the bird, the mystical song of the cane. Its colours are neutral. It is waiting.
    The scribe turns, watching the raven. He has raised his arms towards the arc of its flight but when it descends no lower, he brings them to his side again.
    “Why doesn’t it come nearer?” he whispers, and Gelahn hears him in his mind as clear as sunlight.
    He answers directly to the Lost One’s thoughts. Both cane and bird wait for your decision, Simon.
    At once, darkness fills the scribe’s mind. He turns back and gazes at Gelahn. On his face is such seriousness, such concentration that the mind-executioner has never seen on him before.
    They wait for me to answer yes or no to joining with you to save Gathandria in a different way? Simon asks.
    Gelahn nods.
    Simon shuts his eyes for a moment and sighs. So, if I say no?
    The snow-raven will return to Gathandria without us, taking the mind-cane with him.
    And if I say yes?
    Then bird and cane will be ours, to use in a manner that pleases us both.
    As he speaks the thought-words, Gelahn grants the Lost One access to his mind so Simon may understand the heart-beliefs he, the executioner, holds. He senses the scribe’s presence but chooses not to frighten him by reading his responses. Of course, he only allows him to see so far. The victory of agreement is so near and he is once more loath to lose it.
    Finally, after a length of time even the mind-executioner cannot fully measure, the Lost One withdraws. The two Gathandrians gaze at each other. Then, as the raven still circles above, Simon breaks the impasse.
    “Then I have no choice,” he says aloud. “I must join with you and come what may.”
    “Your decision is a wise one, my friend. Now we can take control of what is rightly ours and make it what it should be.”
    With that, the snow-raven plunges downwards, lands between himself and the scribe. The mind-cane drops from its beak and those great white wings fold into its body. Both Gelahn and the Lost One step forward, place one hand on the cane, feel its power, all the futures it could bring.
    Although he senses the scribe’s every mood, has an unalterable link to him now, he is almost surprised when Simon seizes his tunic with his free hand and searches his thoughts as if looking for something he fears.
    “What you say,” the scribe murmurs, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “will surely bring death to many. It will start a fire that may never be put out. We meddle with things too strong for any of us.”
    “No,” Gelahn breathes, glancing down at the cane he holds. “This is the artefact that will end all wars. And tomorrow we will use it, for its time is now.”

Chapter Eight: Of manuscripts and men

    Annyeke
    The death of the great Library and the destruction that lay as far as her eye could see darkened the vast expanse of naked sky and sent a chill into the air that made her shiver, and go on shivering. Her feet rested on solid earth, but Annyeke had never felt so little connected to its strength. Beyond that, she could feel the great wave of despair coming not only from the menfolk immediately around her, but from the crowds of people she could see in the vicinity of the ruined Library, and those she could not.
    They had never expected the physical battle for Gathandria would begin in this way. She, more than anyone, had assumed that the executioner would come to them from the Lammas Lands, bringing with him the armies of Ralph Tregannon. Their enemies’ strength and experience would be more than a match for their own uncertain use of the mind-cane. So why start with the Library, and how?
    She sighed. When she considered it, the answer to the first question was obvious, because it darkened their minds and sent hope plummeting to the soil. The only real issues were why play such games with them when Gelahn’s victory was all but certain, and how had he achieved it, anyway?
    There was more going on here