The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

our redemption and the land’s regrowth will come the faster. The gods and stars do not wish for there to be war between us.”
    “You have no right to tell us what the gods and stars may think,” she spat back at him. “Not since you chose to disregard them, you and your minion, in order to kill and wound the people who have served you so well for generation-cycles. We hold no loyalty to you now.”
    “Yes, that much is obvious and that much is true,” Tregannon replied, the line of his jaw set, but whether in fury at her rudeness or determination to get his way, she did not know. “But I speak to you as a fellow-Lammasser and in that role I appeal to your good will. Jemelda, return to your home and mine, and let us together do what we cannot do alone.”
    With his final words, Tregannon reached out his hand to her as if he would pluck her back from her chosen path and align her for all time-cycles to his. She could see, even without being a mind-fool, how much such a plea had cost him and his pride. She could see it but she did not care. Because with the arrival of the murderer in the land, all decency and concept of working together had been lost, from the very beginning.
    “No,” she said clearly so he could ever afterwards never say he had misunderstood her. Then she nodded at Thomas. This was his time, his moment. It was why she had saved him.
    He leapt silently at the Lammas Lord, rock in his hand flailing in a determined arc downwards. There was no time for any of his men to cry out a warning but, at the last moment, Tregannon must have sensed something as he turned and lifted his arms against the blow. Still the edge of the rock caught him on the head and he went down. Thomas went with him. The next moment chaos erupted amongst them. Jemelda set her pain to one side and jumped on the back of the nearest Tregannon man. That was the signal for the two groups to enter the fray. Shouts, screams, punches and a scattering of blood fell amongst them. Jemelda encouraged her people in their efforts but in the end she and they were no match for the Lammas Lord’s skills and those of his men.
    So it wasn’t long before she and her people had no choice but to yield. She spat out blood from her mouth, its iron taste almost making her gag, and glared at Tregannon. It pleased her to see his head was bleeding and she couldn’t help but wish Thomas’s attack had succeeded to the full.
    Her former Lord staggered and wiped the blood from his eyes. Something flickered across his face and, for a moment or two, Jemelda wondered if he had heard a voice she had somehow missed, but then his brow cleared. He shook his head.
    “Take them to the village,” he said, the distinct tones of command causing a frenzy of activity amongst his people. “There we will settle this once and for all.”
    For a heartbeat, Jemelda bit back the anger that rose in her heart at how her mission had been defeated, but then she thought again. If they were returned to the village, then other chances to rid themselves of their enemy would no doubt occur. She would make sure she and her people were prepared to take them.

    Ralph

    As his men and his captives turn at his command and begin the journey home, Ralph puzzles over the sudden sense of whiteness in his mind. For a moment the flash of black and silver, the mark of Simon’s mind-cane, had overwhelmed him, and then the blank emptiness flooded in. Now he wonders whether what he sensed is true. Still, the urge to take the captive party and return to the village is a powerful one, and he has always been a man who follows his instinct. The best of soldiery lies in believing this and, on the field of battle, it has never let him down.
    He stations his men on the outside of the group, putting the strongest of them at the back and taking the position at the front himself. Bearing in mind his injuries, he is surprised he can stand and indeed he has to blink several times before he can focus on the earth and trees around him. He turns to the nearest man and gestures him forward so he may lean on the villager’s shoulder in order to walk. It is important to show as little weakness as possible but he cannot afford to fall. Jemelda and the power driving her might well make full use of that opportunity and he is determined, for his own sake and the sake of them all, to stay alive. By the gods and stars that it has come to this.
    At the first step he realises he has been overconfident. Pain shoots