The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

the coward swallow hard. Perhaps he had not bargained for such as they to face him. How he would have much to learn. Much she had not shared with Frankel yet, if she ever would. Much that might be the death of this evil one after all.

    Ralph

    Simon’s arrival jolts him into a decision. This is a surprise, as Ralph has made no decisions of note since his return. For the first time, he enters his bedroom, pushing his fear aside, and stumbles across the floor and around the all but destroyed bed. The torn gold coverlet that still keeps its place there entangles his feet and he almost falls. Cursing, Ralph pulls it away and reaches the wall behind. It remains intact. A miracle from the gods in these devastating times. He presses his fingers to the place on the wall he knows so well, and feels the secret door give beneath his touch. He takes a breath, tries to glean courage of a sort from the waiting air but it offers none.
    No matter. Ralph steps forward into the passageway’s dankness, winter webs brushing his face. It shames him to know he is shaking. Thank the stars nobody knows this. For there is none here to note weaknesses, not any more. Now, he hunches down – the height of this corridor is only big enough for a tall child and the damage caused by the war has made it that much more unstable. As he passes along, the great stones above creak and tremble. And all the time, he is running his fingers along the wall until he gets to the shelves he remembers. When he finds the small pouch he is seeking, Ralph’s knees suddenly weaken and he leans against the dangerous walls for respite. It is here, it is here then. But why should it not be here? This place of relative safety is where he stored the emeralds on his return, and he has not sought them since. Ralph could not bear to keep them with him then, and now he finds he cannot bear to be apart from them.
    He opens the bag. He should not be able to see the jewels; there is no light in this star-forsaken place. But nevertheless they glitter. Ralph’s eye picks out the soft green glow and the smoothness of their shape. Perfect orbs, all. Not as many as there should be – only four instead of the original seven – but enough for him to need them. Enough to hope that one day he will access their full power. If he does, then Ralph will use it to restore the land he has ruined, with as much determination as it is possible to have.
    He wonders if Simon has brought the remainder of the emeralds with him, the ones Ralph left behind in that far-off city. And he wonders too if they now belong to him at all, or if they have become more truly Simon’s. He carries the mind-cane with him, and that has more power than anything Ralph or the land have ever known. It has the power of life, death, and the place that is neither.
    Sometimes Ralph thinks that in-between unknowable place is truly where he is this day-cycle. There the fault is not the cane’s.
    But if the mind-cane is here to punish Ralph’s people further, he will … he will … what exactly? He does not know. But if he did, then something in him speaks of the hope these small jewels could offer.
    He shakes his head. He cannot afford the time to speculate on any future-cycle, so he closes up the pouch and fastens it to his belt. Something of the emeralds’ green glow clings to Ralph’s hand and lights the way back to his bedroom.
    When he reaches it, the will to act has left him, but he takes solace from the feel of the emeralds at his side. He notices the faint glow on his skin has faded. All he can do is wait until he is strong again.
    But when, by the gods, will that time be?

Second Gathandrian Interlude

    Annyeke

    The elders were back. It was of course exactly what Annyeke had been hoping – and indeed praying – for but it wasn’t entirely welcome. Especially as she’d only just been joined with her bonding partner. Still, Gathandrian women always dealt well with the unexpected. She was not going to let down her womenfolk.
    It ca n’t be helped. You know we have to deal with whatever the gods give to us.
    Annyeke nodded her agreement. The depths of Johan’s faith would never be hers, but she understood the sentiment.
    “What will you do?” he asked her, this time aloud.
    She realised both her menfolk were gazing at her. She straightened her shoulders.
    “I will go and talk with them,” she said.
    Grabbing the nearest cloak – which she suspected was Johan’s – she walked outside with as much