The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

husband would overlook. With a shake of her head, she tried again and this time caught it. The wisp of green felt as if it were sparkling into her skin, emerald turned to the strangest of water, but in mere moments she’d understood why it was there and what it was telling her. A heartbeat more and the heat was beyond bearing, and she let the light go, watching it vanish to see if it gave up any more of its secrets but it did not.
    She came back to the knowledge of her body and the strong presence of Johan and Talus beside her. Around them the people and even the elders were rather less determined and she knew then, as if for the first time, how much they needed her.
    Help me, she asked her life-partner, the link between them ensuring the privacy of her need. He reached for her at once, understanding without further words what she was after was a hand to support her, rather than a mind from which to gain comfort. She would face the elders and the Gathandrians with her own clear thought as a leader should. What she did not know was how they would respond to the truth she had seen.
    Once upright next to Johan, with Talus gripping her other hand, Annyeke cast her mind-net across the people. The colours of it, blue and gold and winter-white, fizzed for a moment in the air before settling into the Gathandrians’ thoughts. She found the elders – yes, even the Chair Maker – were helping the process and was grateful.
    There is fire in the Lammas Lands, she said. Because of our link with the Lost One, its power has come to us also, but the fire is real. We must face the battle for the sake of the lands we dwell in, both our neighbours’ and our own. We thought we were building peace but peace comes through battle and must always be fought for. This is something we should have learnt by now and we must carry it always in the day-cycles ahead. I will speak with the elders and, if the power we have permits it, I will speak with the Lost One also. The fire-link which has come to us will help me. Then I will come back to you and give you the choice of what you wish our city to do. For now, we must continue to work and pray and build our futures together.
    When she finished speaking, Annyeke glanced at the elders. She understood their surprise and dismay at her words because she had already told the people more than they would have admitted. Well, she had no patience for men who pretended to know everything. She had explained to them how things were very different under her leadership and they would have to grow used to the experience. That was all there was to it.
    Before any of this, however, she would need to speak to the Chair Maker about his wife and, more importantly, about the Book. She needed to find out what, if anything, he really knew.

Chapter Eleven: Fire

    Ralph

    Heat tracks through him and his dreams are nothing but flame. He understands it isn’t real but he is unable to wake and return to the world he knows, or doesn’t know. Damn the scribe for undoing him, but if Simon had died how much worse would it have been. The man is impossible in all his ways.
    In his dream, he sees a figure in front of him. A tall man, facing away, and his cloak is jewelled with emeralds, the same that have proved so powerful and strange in recent days. The man is bearded, a fashion which Ralph despises, but he knows if he turns back to look at him, it would be like gazing in mirrored glass. This man has never turned to him in his dream, not even so much as a glance, and Ralph has always been running to catch him. Odd how in life, when his father was alive, Ralph took pains to ensure their paths rarely crossed, but in his dreams he experiences the opposite need. Simon had something to say about this, once, but Ralph had brushed his words away with a cutting response about the scribe’s own father. That was the trouble with being linked with the mind of another, however poorly: Simon and he understood more about each other than someone not gifted with mind-skills. Ah but it could be a joy too, how he knew it.
    In his sleep, Ralph thinks he cries out and his father begins to disappear, heading off into the distance where the woods and mountain lurk, as if pursuing a path only he can see. Because there is no path, or not one Ralph can ever distinguish, not in all his year-cycles of this dream. As if constrained by the vision itself, he begins to follow his father who makes his way with ease through bracken and gnarled branches