The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane
not thought to find. The men and women stop at once, as if he has set soldiers on them upon pain of death, as his father has done and as he too has tried, once, but he has learnt his lesson now. By the gods and stars how he has learnt it.
“Return,” he shouts. “This is no time to run. Return and fight these flames before our hopes and crops are consumed.”
Then, knowing whatever happens he too must perform this duty, he eases the trembling boy to the earth where it is unscorched, and continues the task of beating the fire back where it belongs, into the belly of the land. On his own, it will take him till morning, but he is not alone. A moment later, a mere heartbeat, something brushes his arm, and he sees Apolyon struggle to his feet, seize a length of cloth where it has been abandoned and begin to follow his master’s actions, shadowing the Lammas Lord as if only at his side can he find safety. Ralph can see the marks of tears on the boy’s cheek and the quivering glances he casts in the direction of where the remains of the dead man lie but he does not falter.
“Thank you,” Ralph finds himself whispering to his young steward, and is rewarded by a flicker of a smile on Apolyon’s face. It is the first time he has thanked a servant and meant it so fully. The sensation and its newness are not unpleasant.
After a few more moments, the handful of people who have tried to run drift back. He can sense their returning in the shadows around him and he hears the sound of breathing next to him and further along the line also.
No-one speaks but it doesn’t matter. It will be a long night-cycle but they are working together, he and his people, in a way he cannot remember having occurred before. He hopes it will last. He hopes too that Simon, if he could see him, would be proud.
Simon
He knew the instant he had erred in his judgement as the mind-cane tumbled him from sleep, its warmth on his arm almost piercing skin. In his thought, at the forefront so he could neither deny it nor shake it loose, was a vision of Ralph surrounded by fire and pain. With the Lammas Lord was a small boy Simon didn’t recognise, but the whole picture appeared to him to be so real he could have reached out and felt the heat and flame. Still, he should be used to the connection of Ralph and fire, damn the man, as recent experience had set the two in close relationship to each other far too many times, with Simon as a reluctant participant.
Nonetheless the Lost One knew this was no dream and he cursed his inability to go to the man, his body being nothing but a weak vessel his mind could not fully command.
What do I do to save him?
He spoke in his thought to the mind-cane, but he already knew the answer. Help me then. You say I am strong but I am weak.
But when you are weak, then you are as strong as the sky and the earth and all that dwells within it.
The cane’s response made him blink, but he did not falter. He sat up and, bringing the artefact to his face, pressed the silver carving to his forehead. He knew instinctively he needed all the power he could get from its mystery and so a light touch would not be enough. He wanted it to burn him, to the core. He needed it. At once, the silver world of the mind-cane exploded into his own world. It was the sun and the moon, earth and air and water. It was all the journeys he’d ever taken and those he had not.
You , he found himself breathing as the overwhelming power plunged through him. You.
The Lost One thought he had died in truth and for a final time, but he was more alive than he’d ever been. When he opened his eyes, his own understanding of himself had gone where he could no longer sense it but it did not matter. He was who he was intended to be, as if every puzzle and maze inside himself had slotted into place and there was nothing before him but level plains and a wide, smooth path. The fact of it, the very sparkle of silver flame at his fingertips, made him laugh. He took the cane where it lay trembling against his forehead and kissed it.
You.
Yes.
And those were the only words he needed to think. Beyond them, he sensed only colours: a bright rainbow of red and green, blue and the pure white of snow on mountains on a silent morning. The rainbow swirled and settled in front of him and he saw it was a corridor, like the one he and his fellow-travellers had walked through in the Kingdom of the Sky. How long ago that seemed to be today, so much had he experienced
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