Free Hallsfoot's Battle by Anne Brooke Page A

glance across the
Square, with its background of poplars framing the park, she
estimated that about five thousand men, women and children were
here, a quarter of the Gathandrian survivors, enough for the
message to be conveyed to those who’d remained behind. Not enough
to make up for the twenty thousand plus who didn’t have the choice
of being here, though. Annyeke’s eyes filled with tears, but she
brushed them away. She couldn’t afford to cry. She had to convey
something to give these people hope. She had to learn, in so swift
a time, to begin to be a leader.
    If only she’d thought of what she should
say.
    Next to her, a shadow and a light touch on
her hand. She blinked, turned and it was the scribe, of all people.
Behind him, she could see Johan’s troubled frown.
    “I don’t know what you intend to do,” Simon
whispered, leaning towards her, “but I think getting your people
together like this is a good beginning.”
    For a beat of her heart, she stared at him
and then she nodded. Yes, she supposed he was right. Even this was
better than nothing.
    Placing her hands together in front of her,
she focused herself so what she would say would be carried to her
listeners, not only in sound but also in their minds, because few
would hear her aloud but all would be able to hear her words and
her truth in their thoughts. She hoped there would be truth.
    “Our land was once a land of harmony,” she
began, feeling the words vibrate deep within. “That is the meaning
of our name and our purpose. We have fallen far short of that in
recent time-cycles, not that we should hold any one individual
blameworthy for that. The wrongdoing is, as it has always been for
us, a collective one. We choose those who govern us, and when they
make unwise decisions then the blame is ours also. That is the way
we live. Now, many of us have perished in the wars. Our homes are
destroyed and our great city a shadow of its former glory. Beyond
us, our neighbours also suffer, and that, too, is our
responsibility and our shame.”
    Annyeke paused, tears filling her eyes. She
could sense the despair, grief and anger flowing over her from the
assembled crowds. For a moment, she found she couldn’t breathe, and
the inner purpose she’d managed to hold steady in her mind all this
time trembled. She couldn’t go on. All her words, all her hopes
were as a pine sapling battered by a summer storm. Glancing down,
she could see Talus’ fingers curled around hers, but she couldn’t
grasp what he might be thinking. What was wrong with her? Why
couldn’t she connect to him?
    Annyeke.
    Her name spun out of the chaos of her
thoughts like a strong hand reaching to save her from drowning.
Johan. When she looked at him, he was gazing straight at her and
she could almost see the echo of her name on his lips, although the
word had been offered directly to her mind only. It was enough to
bring her to herself and she nodded her thanks before turning back
to the people again.
    This time, their feelings did not cut her
down.
    “But that is not the end,” she continued.
“Because we are more than the sum of what we have done wrong.
We—all of us—are greater than that. In spite of all we have
suffered up to this point, we are not defeated. No. We have been
hard pressed on every side but we are not crushed. We have been
struck down but we are not destroyed. This is because each of us is
more than we seem to be. We always carry within us the Spirit of
Gathandria and that Spirit will never desert us.”
    She could sense it now amongst her
listeners—the colour green amongst the black and red of despair and
misery. Not much, but it was there. It was enough.
    “The elders have retired from us for a
while,” she spoke, her voice and her mind stronger now. “They have
gone to the Place of Prayer and Healing beyond our city but they
will not be gone forever. They are part of us and we of them, no
matter what has taken place. Whilst they are meditating and, I