by Anne Brooke
“What then will you do?”
Many things had the scribe expected from this necessary conversation with Lord Tregannon, both fears and delights, but in none of his imaginings had the question been this. He rubbed his hands on his legs and looked away, feeling a slight constriction in his throat.
I do not know.
Ralph reached across to take Simon’s hand, cementing the link between them.
In the thought-silence, the scribe allowed his words to flow: it is as if I have been one person, with the help of the mind-cane and the raven, and I grew accustomed to being that person. He was braver and more vibrant than I am, his mind and spirit were full of hope and power, no matter what happened, and his growing relationship with his god, the Gathandrian Spirit, was like the first touch of the dawn sun on a warm spring day. But this day-cycle I am on my own and I do not know if I can be that man again. I do not know if I am still the Lost One.
The Lammas Lord smiled; Simon could see it in his mind and also in truth. One thing I have learnt, Ralph began though his words came more slowly than Simon’s and the colours of his thoughts were paler as he gathered them together, one thing I have learnt from what has happened in the land and between us is this: we are not the same this day-cycle as we were the one before and we are unlikely to be the same on the morrow either. Matters under the sky change like the wind, Simon, and we can only glean what we can from it and pray for courage for the moment we dwell in.
That may be true, Simon replied, but I am the same man who lay in your bed last night, the nights before and, I hope, tonight also. Even though much both of good and evil has happened between us and may well do so again, that is an experience I would wish to repeat without fear.
As Simon finished his thought-words, the emeralds at Ralph’s belt sparked with fire and began to hum, notes similar to the mind-cane’s song but with a greater warmth. He wondered if when the emeralds and cane had joined in the fields, something of the giftings of each had been shared with the other. A thought to ponder on in his heart for the day-cycles ahead.
Ralph too had something of the same idea as their mind-colours blended and danced together, because he released his grip and stood to place the bag of emeralds between them.
“So,” said Ralph, his eyes gazing directly at Simon. “The mind-cane and the emeralds together made something different, something good.”
“Yes. I think they did.” The words he spoke, the words both of them spoke, were echoed too in the mind’s deep channels.
A pause then, but this time – this time after so much had happened to change them both – Simon found once more he wasn’t prepared to let the Lammas Lord control it all.
“Perhaps there are other combinations, of equally unlikely parts, which could form something good also?” he said. “Both in your land and in ourselves, if we are brave enough to permit them.”
After another moment, Ralph’s slow answering smile lit up his expression. And the warm touch of his lips on Simon’s hand made the Lost One’s skin tingle.
“I think that can be arranged on all counts,” Ralph replied. “Don’t you?”
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About Anne Brooke
Anne has been writing gay, lesbian, fantasy and literary fiction since Y2K. She is the bestselling author of thrillers Maloney’s Law and The Bones of Summer. Her websites can be found at www.gathandria.com, www.gayreads.co.uk, www.annebrooke.com and www.biblicalfiction.co.uk.
More Books from Anne Brooke
For fantasy fiction please visit: http://bit.ly/R25o13
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Any questions or comments, please email: [email protected]
All the best
Anne Brooke
