The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

towards the more welcoming woods. Silently, the blacksmith went with her, but she made no comment and neither did he speak. As she walked away, Jemelda paid no heed to Frankel’s cry, nor to the strange sounds of the great bird flapping slow wings in the grey skies above her. She simply kept on walking, leaving behind the life she thought was hers, feeling the harsh beat of her heart at the thought of parting from her husband, bearing the shock of the water at her legs as she waded across the stream and seeing the wood drawing ever closer.

    Ralph

    Again he fails his people; Jemelda has gone, to do the gods and stars know what with the rest of the villagers in the woods. The Lammas Lord shakes his head, displacing the snow gathered on his shoulders. He cannot help his people for the time-cycle now and immediately to come, but what he can do is try to keep the scribe alive. The very fact Simon has somehow returned to the living galvanises Ralph and he turns back to the scene before him: the fallen man, his frail father, and the Gathandrian First Elder. Not to mention the mind-cane and the emeralds.
    He hunkers down next to Simon, who is breathing more regularly, he is glad to see, though the scribe’s eyes remain shut.
    “Look after the old man, Hallsfoot,” Ralph commands, with something of his former authority. “I will take Simon to shelter.”
    Annyeke makes no move to obey, but merely raises her eyebrows at him. “Interesting,” she murmurs.
    “Interesting? How so?” Ralph snaps back, keen to take action now he considers he may actually have something useful to do.
    “The fact Simon lives seems to have given you a new lease of life also,” she comments, her gaze fixed on him. “But there are ways and ways of exercising your power, Lammasser. You are not the only leader here.”
    Ralph has the grace to blush but will not be thwarted from his purpose. “Forgive me, but we must keep him warm and dry, and I can brook no argument to that.”
    “So I see.” Annyeke allows Ralph to gather the scribe up into his arms and instead tends to the old man. Frankel and Apolyon, both of whom Ralph has all but forgotten up until this moment, help her. “And the Lost One’s father’s name is Bradyn. Perhaps it would be good for you to remember it.”
    He doesn’t respond to this jibe, as already he is carrying the scribe across the icy courtyard, taking care not to fall, and hurrying towards the kitchen. Behind him, Ralph can hear Frankel and Annyeke pacifying Bradyn, who seems hardly to understand what has just happened. Not that he can blame anyone for this, as he is experiencing an equally difficult time understanding it himself.
    Simon lies heavily in his arms, and Ralph finds his legs are shaking by the time he reaches the table in the middle of the castle kitchen. He is weak from lack of food and regular exercise. Still, he deposits the sleeping man as gently as possible onto the wooden surface, glad for the feeble light which glitters through the small window above the washing area. He hears the faint hum of the mind-cane as it follows them, keeping as close as possible to its master, but he does not turn round to square up to this new potential threat. Not yet.
    Instead he leans closer to the scribe’s face. “I am sorry for it all,” he whispers. “Only let me have the chance to redeem myself in your mind for what I have done and I …”
    The words run from his tongue and he knows he cannot finish them. Even assuming he knows what it is he most wants to say. He would start again, use other words, but the time for it is fast vanishing. He hears the sound of footsteps growing louder, the harsh chattering of the old man, Simon’s father, and the softer murmuring of Annyeke. Frankel and Apolyon are silent.
    By the time all four of them stand just within the kitchen’s threshold, blocking out the light, Ralph has stood and taken a small step away from the table. Only his hand remains on Simon’s shoulder. Indeed it is entirely impossible for him to remove it. The mind-cane floats to the other side of the table and stays there, a fact for which Ralph is grateful. Even though the mind-executioner is no longer with them, the cane’s power is not to be mocked. It has brought a dead man back to life.
    Annyeke makes to speak but the old man plunges across them and all but collapses next to the scribe.
    “Please, please,” he says over and over again. “My son, what has happened to my son?”
    Knowing