Read Online The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting by Anne Brooke - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anne Brooke
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before. Surely Simon should have known he’d seek him out to finish the task? And, after that, his apprentice also? Simon hoped not with all his soul.
He came to in the cave again. They were not that far away. In the transition between being outside his body and being within it, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips. The fingers still on his mouth pressed harder and he could feel the beat of his companion’s heart. He knew it was the man. Not Isabella.
Before he could say a word, try to explain what he’d seen in the forest, there came from outside the sound of a shout quickly stifled and the thud of feet on rock. They’re climbing up here, Simon thought. They’re climbing. He must prepare to fight, though the gods knew he was never a fighting man.
Hush . The word came again, somehow spinning through his head in a way it shouldn’t have been able to. The sense of swift movement behind, something exchanged with—whom? Isabella? He couldn’t tell—and then Simon’s mind was being sealed in by the kind of power he’d never experienced before. Cut off so no outside force could find it. Whoever this stranger was who’d brought him here, his skills were beyond understanding because in spite of the fact that he was now somehow safe in spirit, if not in body, from any detection, he could still hear what was happening at the entrance to the cave. But all impressions slid together, defying logic.
A flood of noise. Words melding into nonsense. Another language. Men’s breathing. The stark smell of sweat. Aching muscles, a muttered curse. White fingers slowly running along the cave’s entrance. A foot poised to take another step forward. Gelahn. Simon knew it. And then, far worse than all these, a deep, deep silence.
A silence in which Simon was totally alone. The hand over his mouth was a thousand miles away, and he was lost in an unknown wilderness. Not even the sound of his own breathing reached him. Was this what death meant?
And then, as if one minuscule piece of his mind had been opened to sunlight, the blankness around him slowly took on a subtle change in colour. Simon drew a shaking breath into his lungs. And then another. And no swift pulse of pain rose up to meet him. Instead, the familiar furnishings of his mind stepped, one by one, back into place. His memories, his beliefs, his knowledge of himself. His thoughts stretched in delight at their rediscovered freedom…
They took him into his immediate surroundings without having to move or even open his eyes. Although it was still night, Simon could see everything as if it was bathed in rich morning sun; Isabella in a brown tunic and skirt, her blonde hair dark with sweat as she hugged herself tight and shivered. The man whose name Simon didn’t yet know leaning back against the cave wall, panting with effort.
At last the man released him.
The stranger ran his hands upwards over his face and through his short black hair. His blue eyes flickered upwards, but by then Simon didn’t need to see them to know who he was.
The stranger at his home. The one who’d arrived with Thomas to take him. The one with the knife .
The scribe gasped, and plummeted once again back into his skin.
At the sound, the man looked at Simon. His eyes were expressionless and calm.
“My name is Johan,” he said. “Johan Montfort. Isabella is my sister.”
Third Gathandrian Interlude
Annyeke
As she closed the door behind her, a small figure shot out of the cooking area and wrapped itself around her legs. The force of it knocked her down and she sank to the floor, taking care not to hurt the boy.
“Talus,” she murmured, stroking his hair and hugging her to him. “Talus, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d sleep for longer than this. Did you get my message?”
A slight movement of the boy’s head was redundant; she’d already caught the yes in his mind. Before she’d left, early this morning, she’d kissed his cheek as he slept, imprinting the knowledge
He came to in the cave again. They were not that far away. In the transition between being outside his body and being within it, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips. The fingers still on his mouth pressed harder and he could feel the beat of his companion’s heart. He knew it was the man. Not Isabella.
Before he could say a word, try to explain what he’d seen in the forest, there came from outside the sound of a shout quickly stifled and the thud of feet on rock. They’re climbing up here, Simon thought. They’re climbing. He must prepare to fight, though the gods knew he was never a fighting man.
Hush . The word came again, somehow spinning through his head in a way it shouldn’t have been able to. The sense of swift movement behind, something exchanged with—whom? Isabella? He couldn’t tell—and then Simon’s mind was being sealed in by the kind of power he’d never experienced before. Cut off so no outside force could find it. Whoever this stranger was who’d brought him here, his skills were beyond understanding because in spite of the fact that he was now somehow safe in spirit, if not in body, from any detection, he could still hear what was happening at the entrance to the cave. But all impressions slid together, defying logic.
A flood of noise. Words melding into nonsense. Another language. Men’s breathing. The stark smell of sweat. Aching muscles, a muttered curse. White fingers slowly running along the cave’s entrance. A foot poised to take another step forward. Gelahn. Simon knew it. And then, far worse than all these, a deep, deep silence.
A silence in which Simon was totally alone. The hand over his mouth was a thousand miles away, and he was lost in an unknown wilderness. Not even the sound of his own breathing reached him. Was this what death meant?
And then, as if one minuscule piece of his mind had been opened to sunlight, the blankness around him slowly took on a subtle change in colour. Simon drew a shaking breath into his lungs. And then another. And no swift pulse of pain rose up to meet him. Instead, the familiar furnishings of his mind stepped, one by one, back into place. His memories, his beliefs, his knowledge of himself. His thoughts stretched in delight at their rediscovered freedom…
They took him into his immediate surroundings without having to move or even open his eyes. Although it was still night, Simon could see everything as if it was bathed in rich morning sun; Isabella in a brown tunic and skirt, her blonde hair dark with sweat as she hugged herself tight and shivered. The man whose name Simon didn’t yet know leaning back against the cave wall, panting with effort.
At last the man released him.
The stranger ran his hands upwards over his face and through his short black hair. His blue eyes flickered upwards, but by then Simon didn’t need to see them to know who he was.
The stranger at his home. The one who’d arrived with Thomas to take him. The one with the knife .
The scribe gasped, and plummeted once again back into his skin.
At the sound, the man looked at Simon. His eyes were expressionless and calm.
“My name is Johan,” he said. “Johan Montfort. Isabella is my sister.”
Third Gathandrian Interlude
Annyeke
As she closed the door behind her, a small figure shot out of the cooking area and wrapped itself around her legs. The force of it knocked her down and she sank to the floor, taking care not to hurt the boy.
“Talus,” she murmured, stroking his hair and hugging her to him. “Talus, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d sleep for longer than this. Did you get my message?”
A slight movement of the boy’s head was redundant; she’d already caught the yes in his mind. Before she’d left, early this morning, she’d kissed his cheek as he slept, imprinting the knowledge
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