Read The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting for Free Online

and Isabella had managed to begin their journey without injury. Was it because of them that the attack had come? Did the enemy guess what they were doing in spite of all the mental precautions put in place? These days it was hard to say. If Johan hadn’t survived though, she would have known it for sure. Oh yes. She would have felt his loss in her heart. Under those circumstances, she would have faced the enemy herself, no matter what the cost, and made sure he knew what she thought about it. No matter his powers, he would never have survived confronting her . She counted herself a force to be reckoned with. In her case, size most certainly didn’t matter.
    She wiggled her way through the park gate, around a row of shops now long since out-of-business and past the theatre. Poor Isabella. A terrible thing about Petran. Even more terrible that, with the way things were, there had been little time for providing comfort. Gathandrians were too busy looking for the next attack, trying to fight against it. Trying to prevent the enemy from destroying everything they loved so much. Not to mention the lives and countries of those outside their state. In this two year-cycle war, everyone suffered.
    Three turnings later and Annyeke stood outside the old Place of Meeting. She paused for a moment to catch her breath and try to tame her hair. The building was partially destroyed now but had once been the pride of Council Street: tall and elegant, made of reinforced glass with only a hint of silver. The courtyard had been a mirage of fountains and mind-streams, which had moved to allow Council members or their honoured guests to pass. Once all the Councils and Sub-Councils had met there. These days they did so rarely. Annyeke had been surprised when the venue had been conveyed to her. She hoped the elders knew what they were doing.
    Ten breaths later and she was outside the Central Chamber door. Or what was left of it. She could see the shapes of the Gathandrian elders huddled together over the Table of Meeting, its carved legs scratched and gouged where once, or so Johan had told her, they had gleamed so brightly it was almost impossible to look on them.
    Quickly, she sent a prayer up to the gods and stars for him. And his sister. And for them all.
    As she was wondering how best to make her presence known, the First Elder rose and nodded in her direction. He made no comment on her dishevelled appearance, her night-attire or her lateness, three kindnesses for which she was grateful.
    “Welcome, Annyeke Hallsfoot,” he said. “It is good to see you and thank you for coming at such short notice. Do you understand why you are here?”
    A formality of course. Annyeke knew perfectly well that all the remaining elders of the Upper Council—only five left living now, instead of the traditional ten, because of this damn war—had already connected with her mind and understood all that she did. And probably all that she was and felt too. Well, good for them—they’d have plenty to think about. But Annyeke was no fool; she knew well when traditions must be respected and when they must be jumped. Now was not a time for jumping.
    “Yes, First Elder,” she replied, and bowed to the necessary distance and no more. With her next words, she didn’t even stumble over Johan’s name and was proud of that fact. “I am here representing Johan Montfort’s voice and mind in my role as Deputy Chief Advisor to the Sub-Council of Meditation. I will endeavour to stand in his place and speak with his wisdom.”
    “Good,” said the elder. “Because things are not going as we had hoped.”

Chapter Three: The Trial

    Simon
    Ralph and the mind-executioner were both judge and jury. That much was clear. The guardsmen didn’t count. In whatever game Ralph was playing, however, neither did Simon.
    He tried to stand straighter, waiting for whatever was to come, but all the time his legs and arms continued to shake, and his mind tumbled. While he waited, Ralph