The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (29 page)

Chanter met
Talsy's eyes and intoned the ritual words that released him from
his obligation and made her useless to the King for future demands.
"Wish fulfilled."

Talsy jerked
free of her tormentor’s hand. "No! Fly! Don't -"

The man slapped
her, then grabbed her again, and the blade sliced into her neck.
She writhed in the guards' grip as the torturer's hold on her face
muffled her scream.

The Mujar
stepped towards her. "Don't harm her."

Garsh laughed.
"How touching! As if a Mujar could care for a Trueman. Now you're
mine, so don't try to resist!"

Chanter bowed
his head as Yusan approached, pulling his hands from the pockets of
his robe. In each, he held a golden bracelet, and Chanter took an
instinctive backward step at the sight of the dreaded metal.

"You'll wear
them, Mujar," the King snarled, "or she dies."

Talsy shared
Chanter’s fear of the bracelets, hating the way in which the Wish
she had made so long ago had trapped him. They would bind him with
gold and throw him in a Pit, and she would never see him again. He
would suffer a living death in the bowels of the earth, trapped by
the overwhelming power of Dolana. The thought of his impending doom
filled her with a terrible anguish and a desperate need to save him
at any cost. She could not let him suffer because of her stupidity
and ignorance, nor could she allow him to sacrifice himself to save
her.

Ignoring the
pain, she gave a mighty heave and freed her mouth from Darron's
hand. "Chanter, I release you! I don't want the Wish fulfilled!
Go!"

Yusan laughed,
and Chanter shook his head. "You cannot. I granted it, and I must
fulfil it."

His soft,
resigned words tore her heart, and tears of anguish spilt down her
cheeks. Her last hope of saving him died with those words. His fate
was sealed because he would not abandon her. Darron chuckled in her
ear, his sour breath fanning her cheek. He only kept the dagger
pressed to her neck, since nothing she said would change the
situation now.

Yusan stepped
closer to the Mujar. "Hold out your hands."

"No, Chanter!"
Talsy wailed. "Don't let them take you to a Pit! Fly free! I would
rather die!"

He stared at
her. "You would die for me?"

Talsy nodded,
sobs choking her. "Yes."

"Stupid bitch,"
Darron snarled, his face twisted with contempt. "Mujar lover."

"Hold out your
hands!" Yusan barked.

Chanter raised
his hands, looking puzzled, as if something important had just
occurred to him, but he was not sure what it was. Talsy met his
eyes with a pleading look, silently begging him not to give up his
freedom for her sake, her throat too clogged to speak. Yusan
snapped a golden bracelet around Chanter's wrist, and he shivered,
looking away.

The sight of
the gold locked around his wrist jerked Talsy from her anguish and
filled her with a frantic need to find another way to free him. She
turned to the King. "No! Don't do it! You doom your people!"

Yusan snapped
on the second bracelet, and Chanter's head drooped as if he was
deathly tired. The advisor smiled. "My theory works, Sire. Put gold
around their necks, and they become complete zombies, but around
the wrist they merely lose their Powers."

The King rose
and approached the Mujar to gaze down at the slender unman's bowed
head. "How ironic. He gives up his precious freedom for the sake of
a Trueman slut, just because of some silly Wish he granted. Yet he
would have let my son die had he not wanted that boy released to
fulfil the Wish of some other Trueman. He could have earned riches
and respect, if only he had not insisted on turning the tables and
making me the one who had to obey his orders to earn his
favour."

"They're
stupid, Majesty," Yusan asserted.

"You bastards,"
Talsy snarled. "You'll burn in Hell for this! In Hell! The Hashon
Jahar will wipe you out! You'll regret this day, I swear it!"

Darron slapped
her again, making her eyes water. "Shut up, or I'll slice you
good!"

The King looked
at her and nodded. "Don't let his sacrifice be for nothing, girl.
I'll let you live if you don't make trouble."

Talsy bit her
lip, blinking away her tears. Chanter raised his head and gazed at
her with an expression of profound forgiveness, gentle affection
and resignation. His gaze flicked to Garsh, and the gentleness in
his expression drained away, leaving his eyes cold and empty.

"Don't harm
her," he begged.

Garsh laughed.
"It's not her I want to harm, scum. She's just a silly girl you led
astray. I want to hurt you!"

The King drove
his fist into Chanter's gut, making the Mujar double over with a
groan. Garsh punched him again, harder. Chanter sank to his knees,
clasping his belly, and Garsh kicked him in the face, sending him
sprawling.

"Get up!" the
King shouted. "Show some spine, damn you!"

Chanter gasped,
grimacing. Blood oozed from his nose. Talsy sobbed, longing to
scream abuse at the King, but mindful of his threat. She had
promised Chanter that she would save him from the Pit. Garsh kicked
Chanter again, grunting with annoyance when the Mujar only
flinched.

“
Hold him up!” the King ordered the guards, who dragged Chanter
upright. Garsh punched him again and again, crushed his nose and
split his lips and brows. Blood ran down his face and dripped onto
his chest. The King gripped Chanter's hair and lifted his head to
batter his face further, laughing.

"Not so
wonderful now, is he, girl?"

Talsy bit back
hot words and looked away, her stomach heaving. Chanter's face was
a bloody ruin by the time the King stopped, his royal trappings
splattered with blood. When Garsh released him, the Mujar's head
sagged forward again. The King wiped his hand with a handkerchief
and addressed the guards.

"Take him to
the barracks and let anyone who wants to have a go. Break every
bone in his body. When they're done, put the gold collar on him and
toss him in the sea."

Talsy looked
up, dismayed. With a gold collar on, he would lie forever on the
ocean floor, and how could she save him from the depths? The
soldiers dragged Chanter out, and servants appeared to mop up the
blood.

Darron turned
to the King. "What do you want to do with her, Sire?"

Garsh shrugged.
"Throw her out."

Darron put away
his dagger, gripped Talsy's jacket, and marched her to the front
gate, where he kicked her into the street. She lay on the cobbles,
wept and scratched at the stone in a frenzy of sorrow and anguish.
Chanter’s gentle ways, revelations and soft-spoken teachings had
altered the way she thought forever. How would she survive without
him, in a harsh world of Trueman manufacture, hating them for their
envy, hatred and savagery? She knew she was more Mujar now than
Trueman, and, worst of all, she had been the bait that had led to
his downfall. She had condemned him to a living death beneath the
waves. Uncaring of the people who walked past, some staring, she
wept with wild abandon.

In the woods,
the ice wall melted away with unnatural swiftness, and Arrin sprang
up in confusion. When no one appeared, he fell into a quandary. To
return to the barracks was suicide. His unwilling career in King
Garsh's army was over, thanks to the Mujar his father had sent. He
was free, but faced a long journey through hostile lands. He cursed
and walked into the forest.

Chapter Twelve

Talsy held up a
crystal vase and inspected it. With a nod, she handed it to her
buyer, a short, balding man with a podgy face and a good eye for
wares. He went off to finalise the deal, and she stared blindly at
the book in front of her. The figures danced on the page, defying
her to read them, and she rubbed her eyes. Late afternoon sunlight
streamed in through the dusty windows of her office in a modest
shop on Windall Street, an area between the poor quarter and the
middle-class district. Damaged merchandise, papers and oddments
cluttered the cramped room, whose walls were yellowed with age and
neglect, its furnishing worn and drab. Two chairs faced her
polished yew desk, a sagging bookshelf covered one wall and coarse
curtains framed a window with a view of the busy street.

Talsy had found
a thriving market here for trinkets from the far north, cities like
Prenath and Gardellin, which made pretty things from cheap
materials, like the vase she had just bought. It looked expensive,
but the crystal was inferior. For denizens of the poor quarter,
however, such things were previously unaffordable luxuries. Now,
poor labourer husbands could buy their wives pretty vases, pots and
crockery, and trade was good. She rented the shop from an ageing,
retired merchant who had no son to inherit his business. It had
improved since Talsy had taken over, and she had given the shop a
fresh coat of whitewash three months ago.

Six months had
passed since King Garsh's men had flung Chanter into the sea. It
seemed like an eternity of grinding misery and constant sorrow. For
days, she had scaled the barracks' walls in her desperate attempts
to free him. Two guards had stood over the motionless, bleeding
Mujar night and day, making her task impossible. Twice, the guards
who patrolled the walls had caught and beaten her.

Then that
terrible day had come, when he had been thrown into a cart and
driven to the docks. People had spat on his torn and bloody form,
jeered and shouted insults. The ship had set sail at sunset,
foiling Talsy's longing to find out where they dumped him. Not that
it would have done any good, for the currents would sweep him away,
and the sea was too deep to rescue him.

Two weeks
later, cold and hungry from living on the streets as a beggar,
Talsy had taken Chanter’s ruby to a reputable dealer. The jeweller
had paid her handsomely for it, and she had purchased the modest
business, which provided a living and a distraction. She lived
alone in a rented house, and had turned nineteen a month ago, but
had not celebrated it.

The business'
profit provided her with good clothes and fine food, but no amount
of luxuries could ever blot out Chanter's memory. She missed him as
much now as she had on the day he had been bound in gold, and often
woke from dreams of him to weep until dawn. Though it seemed
hopeless, she never stopped trying to think of ways to save him,
refusing to accept his loss.

Several times,
she had hired a boat and braved her fear of the sea to voyage out
in a vain hope that she might find him drifting like wrack on the
waves. The sight of the ocean that would one day become his grave
moved her to tears, and she would spend hours weeping alone before
returning to shore. She had no friends, but those who knew her
thought her a little touched in the head. Every morning, she walked
the beaches on either side of the harbour, hoping that Chanter
would be washed ashore. All she had found was a scrap of frayed
black leather, which she kept in a box beside her bed. Her
unrelenting grief had aged her, thinned her face and figure and
made her eyes sink into their sockets. She did not care; nothing
mattered without Chanter.

Talsy was
dragged from her reverie as her buyer, Tarn, re-entered her office,
looking pale and sick.

She eyed him.
"What is it?"

Tarn pulled up
a chair and sat, frowning. "Bad news, I'm afraid, Miss Talsy. The
man who brought the crystal came from Jishan, and he brought news
of a rumour that the Black Riders are heading there."

She experienced
a twinge of triumph and hid a smile. "Oh, dear."

Tarn nodded, as
if she had said something far more appropriate. "I reckon it's time
to move on."

"Of course.
I'll pay you a good severance, so you'll have something to live on
for a while. Where will you go?"

"North, I
reckon. It'll take them Riders a long while to march all the way
around the Narrow Sea, so we'll have a good head start."

Talsy opened
her desk drawer and took out a bag of silver. "Would you like your
pay now?"

Tarn nodded,
and she counted out the coins. She was tempted to give him the
whole bag, for it meant nothing to her now. Her life in Rashkar
would soon be over. She counted out most of it, until Tarn's eyes
bulged, then put the remainder back in the drawer. He stood up and
gathered it into his purse, filling his pockets as well.

"You're welcome
to join us, Miss Talsy. The wife and kids like you well enough, and
you've always been generous with us."

Talsy rose and
wandered over to the window to stare into the street, where life
continued as usual. Once word got out, people would try to flee as
they had in Horran, but she was sure that Garsh would also force
his people to fight. Becoming aware of Tarn's words, she turned to
smile at him.

"Thank you,
Tarn, but no, I shall stay here."

"That's certain
death, Miss Talsy."

She longed to
point out that no one would escape the Hashon Jahar in the end, but
shook her head instead. "I'll be all right."

Tarn grunted,
and left the office jingling with bounty. She wished him luck
silently, for he was a nice man.

Two days later,
Talsy looked up from the accounts on her desk as her doorway
darkened. King Garsh's black-clad advisor stood framed in it, and
she rose to her feet, her heart hammering with fury.

"Get out! How
dare you come here?"

Yusan raised
his hands. "I know you don't like me, but I need to know more about
what you said."

"I wouldn't
piss on you if you were on fire, now get out!"

The advisor
sidled into her office. "Tell me more about the Hashon Jahar. How
do you know they're undying?"