Read Online The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting by Anne Brooke - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Brooke
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of her whereabouts in his thoughts where he could not miss it when he woke. Now his yes tumbled amongst the pain he was feeling. The power of it almost swept Annyeke away before she closed up the mind-doors to her privacy.
As she held him, she was already thinking of what had happened. The worry for Johan beat like a pulse in her throat, but there was nothing she could do about it until the mind-circle had been mended. The elders had promised to let her know when she would be needed again. She hoped it would be soon.
Until then she had work to do: the same tasks that her fellow Gathandrians who still lived in this debilitating battle would be doing. First, shoring up the mental barriers which gave them a modicum of protection once more. This Annyeke did by walking the outside walls of her small home, holding Talus’ hand and allowing her mind to conjure a further wall around the light greenstone exterior. Invisible, but as strong as she could make it. During the day, this power would settle, growing firmer so when the night came—the time when the onslaught became worse—she and Talus might have a chance of survival. It was the best she could do.
Some of her neighbours were doing the same. They nodded at each other but did not communicate. Their focus needed to be elsewhere. At the corner nearest Talus’ house, Annyeke stopped. She wasn’t sure what to do. Only twenty-five summers’ old, she had no children of her own. This situation wasn’t one she’d been expecting. Not for quite some time at least. Would he want to go inside? His mother’s body would no longer be there; when vanquished by the enemy, the flesh was taken also. Gathandrians had no particular rituals for the burial of the dead but, during the last two year-cycles, they had become accustomed to the fact that any burial at all was impossible. Still, it left a scar on the mind, which was hard to take. She was almost glad that Talus’ father was not here to live through the pain of losing his wife; he had died three years ago, before even the thought of war, when the enemy was still safely imprisoned.
While she was still pondering on the best course of action to take, Talus tugged at her hand and pulled her around the corner so they were no longer facing his house.
“Do you want to…?” she began but he shook his head so vigorously that she was left in no doubt of his answer.
Back indoors, she cobbled together a makeshift breakfast for them both: stale bread she’d made a few day-cycles earlier, waterlily soup, lavender tea. Talus ate hungrily, as if he’d not eaten for a long time. When he had eaten, she supposed he should go for schooling, but she had no idea how that happened. Unless, of course, he should stay with her today? Yes, perhaps that would be best. Though it would be better still to ask Talus himself. She and her neighbours hadn’t been particularly close, though they’d been civil enough. Annyeke thought she must have known at some point who Talus’ teacher was, but it wouldn’t come to mind. She would have to ask the lad.
She coughed, and Talus looked up at her, his mouth full of bread and his brown eyes blinking in the sunlight.
“Look,” she said, kneeling down next to the stool, so she was on a level with him, though in truth he was taller. “I’d like you to do what you want today, whatever that might be. Would you like to go to classes, or would you like to stay here with me?”
“With you,” he said. Or rather mumbled through bread. Annyeke only just caught the words.
“All right,” she said. “You can stay with me for a few days, but then I’ll have to take you back to schooling so I can talk to your tutors. We need to arrange what will happen.”
“Can’t I stay with you for longer than that?” he asked her. “Please?”
She blinked. She didn’t know. What did one do with children? She had no experience to call on.
Gods and stars, she thought, she must listen to herself and stop being so selfish.
As she held him, she was already thinking of what had happened. The worry for Johan beat like a pulse in her throat, but there was nothing she could do about it until the mind-circle had been mended. The elders had promised to let her know when she would be needed again. She hoped it would be soon.
Until then she had work to do: the same tasks that her fellow Gathandrians who still lived in this debilitating battle would be doing. First, shoring up the mental barriers which gave them a modicum of protection once more. This Annyeke did by walking the outside walls of her small home, holding Talus’ hand and allowing her mind to conjure a further wall around the light greenstone exterior. Invisible, but as strong as she could make it. During the day, this power would settle, growing firmer so when the night came—the time when the onslaught became worse—she and Talus might have a chance of survival. It was the best she could do.
Some of her neighbours were doing the same. They nodded at each other but did not communicate. Their focus needed to be elsewhere. At the corner nearest Talus’ house, Annyeke stopped. She wasn’t sure what to do. Only twenty-five summers’ old, she had no children of her own. This situation wasn’t one she’d been expecting. Not for quite some time at least. Would he want to go inside? His mother’s body would no longer be there; when vanquished by the enemy, the flesh was taken also. Gathandrians had no particular rituals for the burial of the dead but, during the last two year-cycles, they had become accustomed to the fact that any burial at all was impossible. Still, it left a scar on the mind, which was hard to take. She was almost glad that Talus’ father was not here to live through the pain of losing his wife; he had died three years ago, before even the thought of war, when the enemy was still safely imprisoned.
While she was still pondering on the best course of action to take, Talus tugged at her hand and pulled her around the corner so they were no longer facing his house.
“Do you want to…?” she began but he shook his head so vigorously that she was left in no doubt of his answer.
Back indoors, she cobbled together a makeshift breakfast for them both: stale bread she’d made a few day-cycles earlier, waterlily soup, lavender tea. Talus ate hungrily, as if he’d not eaten for a long time. When he had eaten, she supposed he should go for schooling, but she had no idea how that happened. Unless, of course, he should stay with her today? Yes, perhaps that would be best. Though it would be better still to ask Talus himself. She and her neighbours hadn’t been particularly close, though they’d been civil enough. Annyeke thought she must have known at some point who Talus’ teacher was, but it wouldn’t come to mind. She would have to ask the lad.
She coughed, and Talus looked up at her, his mouth full of bread and his brown eyes blinking in the sunlight.
“Look,” she said, kneeling down next to the stool, so she was on a level with him, though in truth he was taller. “I’d like you to do what you want today, whatever that might be. Would you like to go to classes, or would you like to stay here with me?”
“With you,” he said. Or rather mumbled through bread. Annyeke only just caught the words.
“All right,” she said. “You can stay with me for a few days, but then I’ll have to take you back to schooling so I can talk to your tutors. We need to arrange what will happen.”
“Can’t I stay with you for longer than that?” he asked her. “Please?”
She blinked. She didn’t know. What did one do with children? She had no experience to call on.
Gods and stars, she thought, she must listen to herself and stop being so selfish.
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