Read Online The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting by Anne Brooke - Free Book Online

steady. If either Isabella or Simon could see him, any confidence they might have in his leadership will be destroyed.
    While the scribe sleeps, Johan tries to focus his mind again, an act much like picking up the broken pieces of a precious vase. Ideally, he needs several hours of mind-rest in order to regain his strength. That is unlikely to happen, because surely the enemy will recover faster than he can, and will come to search for them. That much is a given.
    How long might he have? An hour? More? He does not know. It is impossible to tell. Can he contact the elders? No, he doesn’t have the strength for that. As the mind-storm happened, he’d sensed that it had also smashed the mind-circle connection with Gathandria. With good had come the not so good also. And it will take the elders some time to rebuild it.
    All he can do now is begin his meditation. Focus. And wait.
    Isabella is in the process of damping down the fire. If something happens, she will warn him. He can trust her. With a smile in her direction, which she catches, he begins the slow task of rebuilding his mind.
    The disturbance, when it comes, brings him back to his senses instantly.
    Johan knows at once what it is, and also knows it is happening too soon. The enemy is already upon them. At the same time, the scribe stirs from his sleep.

    Simon
    When Simon woke, the darkness this time was complete; velvet and damp against his skin. His dreams had shaken him, but he couldn’t remember them now. There was no fire, no line of light. He struggled against the dark, trying to blink it away, and stretched out his hand. At once he touched warm cloth and leather. The next second, fingers were jammed over his mouth and the word Hush echoed around his thoughts. Closing his eyes, Simon tried to calm his breathing and be still.
    For a few moments, all was silence. Then, as if from a great distance, he could hear rustling and the murmur of voices. A river of sound, flowing steadily towards them, intent on its own mysterious purpose. Squeezing his eyes more tightly shut, he let his mind focus on the approaching people, trying to find the reason for their being here. Outside, the night was cold.
    It was against the law to travel after sunset in any of the Lammas Lands. Or indeed any other, he imagined, though he could not have confirmed that view; nobody travelled in either the northern mountains or the southern mud plains any more. Sometimes, people journeyed at night alone, but only if they wanted to disappear, and never in groups. As, in his mind, Simon came towards them, the whispering grew louder, a low murmur contrasted with the occasional screech of a wood-owl disturbed at the hunt. He didn’t dare drift too close, in case Ralph was among them and might sense it. The Lammas Master’s presence, after all, would give the group protection. As Simon once had claimed it.
    At last he was near enough to see them, but not so near for some to know it. There were six of them, two carrying small torches, their fire flickering in the intermittent gusts of night breeze. Ralph was not there. Simon recognised the blacksmith, wrapped in a thick woollen cloak, and one or two of the other villagers. As Thomas moved, his cloak swung a little to the side, and something sparkled. For a moment Simon didn’t understand what it was and then he saw the silver decoration on the knife handle. The blacksmith had never been armed before. It was not proving to be a good day.
    But there was more to come. A fact he hadn’t anticipated, although if he’d been more awake he might have been prepared.
    In the middle of the group stood Gelahn, the mind-executioner.
    With a sudden gasp, Simon was flying back to the safety of his body, his mind whipped by the freezing wind, his thoughts stumbling over themselves in their panic to be gone, surely leaving behind a thousand signals telling Gelahn he’d been there. How could he have been so stupid? The mind-executioner had wanted to kill him