The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

mind-journeys had taken place amongst her people, but never when it was a question of life or death. With all her being, she longed to reach out, touch Talus, try to bring back his spirit herself if she had to, but the power was not hers to taste.
    And, at the back of her mind, the knowledge of the mind-executioner’s blood on her skin and memory overshadowed her. Would she ever be clean of it? She could not tell. Even so, she would not change what she had done. She would never regret it. For Talus and for her people, she would do it again a thousand times over.
    She felt a hand on her shoulder. Johan. She turned to face him at once, searching his eyes for some kind of hope.
    “He’s done this before, hasn’t he?” she whispered, wanting above everything his reassurance. “The scribe, the Lost One. He’s brought a boy back from the dead.”
    He nodded, taking her into his arms. But she could feel the clouded darkness of his mind, wondered if she was foolish to hope at all.
    She could sense something else in him, something rich and golden and deep. It called to her and she felt her thoughts rise to meet him. The unexpected power of it made her blink.
    “I love you,” she said. “No matter what I have done, or what happens now—though I think the worst will tear my skin from my bones—I love you.”
    In answer, he placed his hands on either side of her face, gazing into her eyes as if he would understand all the things she understood.
    “Know this, Annyeke Hallsfoot,” he said as if he were declaring a solemn promise to her in the place of joining. “I have found today that I love you. I think I always have, though I have not known it until now. And what you have done is the bravest act of any of our elders. The executioner had to die; it was impossible for him to live.”
    “Perhaps,” she whispered back and felt the beginnings of wetness on her cheeks. “But I did not think his death would come by my hand.”
    Next to her, a deep sighing, like a river beginning to come into full spate. Slipping from Johan’s protection, she swung back to see the Lost One draw a long breath and open his eyes. He gazed right at her and held out his arms.
    Talus coughed.
    Annyeke couldn’t help the cry of joy that sprang from her lips. She gathered the boy from the Lost One’s grasp as close to her bosom as she could get him, rocking him like a restless child, though she was the one most in need of comfort. He coughed again and opened his eyes. She found herself laughing and choking on unnecessary tears, her whole body shaking. She couldn’t have stood up if she’d tried to. She rejoiced in the new warmth of his small frame against hers, at the miracle that somehow had happened here today, when her faith in the mere existence of miracles had grown so weak.
    “Thank you, thank you,” she mouthed at Simon over and over again. “Thank you.”
    Annyeke only stopped when Talus moaned against her torn dress. “You’re hurting me.”
    And then she laughed and cried again.

    Simon
    The red-haired woman had her child again and the land’s harmony was restored. Or it was on the way to being so. A sudden flash of sunlight pierced the scribe’s eye and pushed the night fully away. He could feel the shake of his breath and the slight tremble of his body, the ache in his fresh scars, but none of that mattered.
    Simon gazed round and saw the aftermath of battle, blood and bones and silence, grief and the knowledge everything was different now. Those Gathandrians who could still walk, limped away or collapsed, shaking with tears, under the trees. Others tried to help the men and women who had fallen although for many there was nothing they could do. The smell of death was everywhere. But something else, too. The scent of the trees, the earth, the promise of water lingered, a chance to live where no chance had been looked for.
    A flash of emerald drew his eye. The Lammas Lord scrabbled at the ground. For a moment, Simon had no idea what he was doing, then he saw the jewels Ralph held in his hand.
    He cried out a wild denial and tried to get to his feet, but the effort was beyond him.

    Ralph
    It is over and he has no place here. Destruction has been visited upon Gathandria both by means of the executioner and the soldiers he took from the dead. Ralph’s soldiers. Gelahn’s use of his own armies. And the Overlord has done so little to stop him. It is Simon and the Gathandrians who have saved themselves at the cost of so