The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

Show us how, Lost One.”
    Simon raised his eyebrows at Ralph’s use of his given title, surely the first time he’d said it, but did not comment. “You do not understand. The stories, so Annyeke says, must come from me, but I have already told those I know and I don’t think the land can use for survival and growth what has already been used for safety. Besides, in the First Elder’s dream, the parchment leaves which appeared to her were clear, which points to something new. But I am, or I was, a scribe only, a man who writes other people’s stories and the legends of the past. I am not someone who creates them from nothing. This is madness.”
    The First Elder stepped forward. “ No , it is not madness, and you must listen. You have skills you do not entirely know and which have not even been thought of yet. The legends tell us so and we see it in your fellowship with the mind-cane and the snow-raven. Your powers and those gifted to you brought you back to life from the dead, which surely means you are a legend in the making, if anything can be in these day-cycles. The Book of Blood has given power to those who fight us with its emptiness. So we must fight like with like, and create something where nothing exists also. I do not exactly know how you will do it, but I know you must. Please, Simon.”
    Simon couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Each time I have any dealings with you Gathandrians, you ask me to do the impossible.”
    “Yes, that may be true,” Annyeke cut in before he could continue. “But have we ever failed you, Lost One, or in the end have you ever failed us?”
    Simon grew quiet then, the truth of what she said filling his blood and memory. He needed to think.
    Finally, he looked down at the cane and heard the low note of the snow-raven once more, but whether that was aloud or only for him he could not say. “So, you wish me to make a new legend. To make new words out of my silence. Is that it?”
    Annyeke closed her eyes briefly and then she smiled at him. “Yes. It is time for our lands to have a new story, even as we fight to give it room to grow. You must make a decision, please, Lost One.”
    Simon swallowed.
    “Then I will do it,” he said.

    Jemelda

    It didn’t take her long to plan the day-cycle for her people, and soon the women were heading to the woods nearest the village to destroy what sustenance they could find. Jemelda was determined to drive the scribe into the open where he would be more vulnerable. She and the rest of her small group would take the trees on the furthest side, near where the mountains used to be. It was important to rid the land of its remaining food, berries, roots and such like, now the earliest of the field-crops was gone. They would take enough to store for themselves and any who decided to join them, but the rest would have to starve until the murderer was dead. So be it. Her purpose was clear.
    It was hard work however, as she had known it would be. The wind chilled her through the tunic she wore and the occasional flurry of late snow froze her skin. Whenever she could, she checked how those around her were coping with the conditions and, for the most part, they looked well enough, under these circumstances. Still, she would have given all the sweet venison in the land to have strong gloves for them to wear, as the briars and thorns tore at their fingers while they plucked the berries and nuts from the branches. Not that the fruits of the season were rich in shape or abundance, but they were sustenance and must be dealt with.
    Finally they had stripped the trees in that area of their food, and returned to the cave, to meet with the women who were there before them, fresh from their similar mission of destruction. Because of this, the Lammas Lord and his men would soon be searching for them, she knew it and, even without the murderer’s mind-powers, the cave was the obvious place to start. They would need another refuge.
    “Thank you, all of you,” Jemelda said. “You are good people, and together … together we will restore our fortunes. Thank you.”
    Unexpected tears filled her eyes but she blinked them away. She felt a brief touch on her arm. It was Thomas. She squared her shoulders and nodded at him, knowing she had to show leadership or this mission would never succeed.
    “Come then,” she said to all. “Let us go beyond the furthest edge of the woods, to the place where nobody ventures. There we will be together and can give each