The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

had fought such a battle as was to come in the midst of the snows. However, Gelahn would surely bring with him what he could find of the Lammas Lands’ soldiers and they would struggle with the deep chill that could turn flesh black and shatter bones. Set against that, of course, was the soldiers’ experience of hand-to-hand combat. She shook her head, the puzzle remaining an uncertain purple.
    No time for pondering, however. She and the people had to work whilst light remained to them.
    As she turned back to her task, a thought flashed into her senses, an impression of tall purpose approaching. She looked up to see one of the women into whose care she had given the blinded First Elder. As Annyeke stepped forward to meet her, she saw it was Iffenia, the Second Elder’s wife. Of course, she should have remembered. Recent events were playing with her mind and she would have to be careful. From now on, she could not afford to make mistakes.
    Iffenia smiled, hurrying to meet her and shaking her head at Annyeke’s unspoken assumption.
    “No, do not fear. The First Elder sleeps only. I have given him winter raspberry for rest and cypress leaf for healing. He is safe enough for the moment. I wrapped a mind-net of my husband’s making ’round the workshop before I left. If there is any danger, I will know it. It struck me I would be, for now, more needed here, for surely it is up to the womenfolk to do what we can for our lands.”
    “Thank you,” Annyeke said, trying not to smile at the exact sentiments she, too, held. “I’m grateful for all the help we can give each other, indeed. We must do as much as we can before night brings the first of the snows.”
    Even as she spoke, however, Annyeke gained an impression of shadows and darkness, and wasn’t entirely sure where it had come from. It reminded her of the executioner and his strange assault on their land. Why should she feel this in the presence of Iffenia? Perhaps, indeed, she could trust no one. She must be as wise as a rock snake and as calm as the summer clouds. She shook her head. Her companion was at least right about the snow. Already, it was beginning to fall. The first few flakes brought a deeper silence to the scene. Still turning over the sparks of suspicion in her mind, she stared upwards at the sky, as if by looking she could hold back the inevitable. Small bursts of ice broke against her skin, slid down her face.
    “Will this prove our friend or our enemy, I wonder,” Iffenia mused as she bent down to rescue another parchment scrap from the rubble.
    Annyeke did not answer, but the question made her pause. She wondered if this uncertainty was what the elders had experienced and what they did when it happened. Being a source of inspiration and hope for the people was not, perhaps, as desirable, or as straightforward, as she had first assumed. With a shake of her head, she focused on the task in hand as the snows began to fall in earnest.
    Around her, Iffenia and the rest of her fellow labourers followed suit, this time with a fresh urgency to their actions and, for a while, the only sound was the rustle of the parchment piles as they slowly grew and the only colour apart from white was the faint flash of purple or green as fragments of the tales were rescued. They would not have long, Annyeke realised, before they would be forced to stop, not only for their own sakes as the need for warmth and protection became paramount, but also to safeguard the stories. Best to do so now while the decision remained theirs and they were not, as had been their custom, simply reacting to the demands of an outside force.
    She stood up, gazed round, felt the ragged beat of her heart echo her own confusion before drawing breath, and forced herself to be calm.
    It is enough , she said in thought only to the people, the words carving their slow truth into her own mind. What we have found now must prove to be sufficient and what we have not found, we must abandon. Let us take what we have salvaged to the old Council Buildings. It is there, in the hours to come, that we must face our enemy and make our stand.
    Then, in a way she couldn’t comprehend, time itself stopped.

    Duncan Gelahn
    The pale light of the empty sky almost blinds him, casting a clouded haze over this place of earth and mystery. Behind him, the mind-executioner can hear the panting of the dogs and Simon’s harsh breath. He can smell the scent of winter on the air, even though he is situated in