Free The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle by Anne Brooke Page A

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 am sure, giving us strength through that sacred practice, they have bequeathed to me the mantle