The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

him to change his mind and follow her, to lead her army into the battle they faced, but she knew Frankel of old. She understood his decision, once made, would not be lightly cast aside. If she woke him, he might even call for the Lammas Lord and the villagers who remained, and cast her into the dungeons, as the scribe had once been cast there. She had no wish to become a prisoner and face an unjust judgement. She must go.
    Before she did, she reached out and stroked her husband’s cheek. His skin felt rough with the growth of whiskers and she couldn’t help but smile. Odd how her face felt wet, but she did not try to wipe the wetness away. Some scars were honour-bound to remain, would likely never vanish. Her gesture did not cause Frankel to wake, but she hoped he would remember something of her presence, perhaps in a dream that would last into this coming morning and all the day-cycles beyond it. She wanted it to be something to soothe him in the hard hours ahead.
    Jemelda said goodbye to him in the privacy of her mind and turned to go. A slight sound caused her to turn back again but no, she must have been mistaken as she saw no movement and her husband did not challenge her. She knew if he were truly awake, he could not have helped but speak. Swiftly, she gathered her store of wood, checked the fire-oil bottles remained secure and walked across the kitchen towards the outer curtain. For the sake of her land, she refused to linger any more in this place where she had lived and worked for so long, and instead, lifted the curtain and entered once more into the night. The most dangerous part of the mission was still to come and she would, by all she held true, be ready for it.
    Behind her, if she had but known it, Frankel raised himself from his sleepless bed and gazed after her in utter silence.

    Simon

    Something woke him in the night, but it wasn’t pain. He’d grown used to a low level of that over the last few hour-cycles and had even managed to sleep now and again, so the Lost One was puzzled when he opened his eyes and stared upwards at the broken ceiling. From instinct he glanced at the cane and saw it glowed faintly in the darkness but it wasn’t moving or trying to attract his attention. It was as if whatever it, and he, had sensed was something it had expected to happen. Simon wished he knew what this was, and he also wished he had not woken from a dream of Ralph he blushed to recall. But it could not be helped; he was still a man. He shook the memory away and gazed more fully at the mind-cane. No, the glow had faded even in such a short space of time and he was the only one awake in this star-forsaken hour.
    He should turn to sleep again and for a few moments he tried to follow his own advice. It did not succeed. So, cursing softly under his breath, he struggled to a sitting position on the pillows Ralph had somehow found for him. The warning, whatever it was, pulsated in his head and he could not gainsay it. Besides, if he was the Lost One and the only one awake, then he needed to know what danger might lurk for them here.
    Getting up took longer than he’d expected. Each stretch of his limbs and even each harsh breath brought him pain. As his foot finally touched the stone floor, he gasped at the chill and at the sudden burst of crimson flooding his thoughts, and the sound must have woken the mind-cane, if sleep was familiar to it, as the next breath found the artefact trembling at his right hand. Simon ignored it, unsure if any other movement might whirl him to an inner darkness, and instead placed both hands, palm down, on his knees.
    I need to get to the window, were the thoughts that sprang from his mind, and he knew the cane understood them, I need to see what’s out there but in a moment or two when I am stronger.
    You are strong now , were the words that returned to him, framed in silver and black.
    So you say, but you do not have flesh and blood as I do.
    The cane hummed briefly, and Simon almost smiled to hear the note of disapproval in its song. He gave himself another few breaths to recover and only then eased his fingers round the cane’s silver carving.
    Come then, I can bear your help now.
    Standing upright made him dizzy and he found he needed the mind-cane for its practical support for the first time he could remember. Still its shape in his palm warmed his skin and he could feel the flashes of green and blue sparking between them. His heart beat faster and he couldn’t help but