The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (36 page)

"Surely they
wouldn't dare to harm us?"

"When cornered,
even the most timid creature will fight more fiercely than you ever
thought possible."

"But they're
not cornered," she protested. "They're saved!"

"They'll blame
Mujar for the deaths of their friends and families, and their
hatred will grow stronger than ever. They'll be looking for
vengeance."

Talsy gazed up
at him with despairing eyes. "Can't you tell if they're
chosen?"

"No." He turned
away. "Come, let's go back, my food is getting cold."

Talsy trailed
after him back to the camp where Sheera waited, looking a little
nervous. As the Mujar sat down to continue his meal, she asked,
"Did I do something to offend?"

"No."

Sheera relaxed
and filled his bowl with another lavish helping of steaming stew.
Chanter finished it and thanked her when she would have heaped more
into his bowl. Talsy noticed that he spoke the ritual 'gratitude',
but did not offer a Wish. A plate of food, she supposed, was not a
big enough favour to earn one.

Talsy turned to
him. "Will you help the sick man now?"

Sheera
protested, "No, child, the Mujar owes him no favour. You cannot ask
for such a Wish."

"But he may be
one of the chosen, and if so, he's -"

"Have you
forgotten our little talk already?" Chanter interrupted.

"No, but -"

"Good." He
smiled. "I'll look at him."

Sheera rose and
held aside the flap of cloth that covered the shack’s doorway,
admitting the Mujar and Talsy. The old woman followed and knelt
beside the pallet to peel the bloody dressing from the wound. The
ugly injury looked like a spear thrust. It seeped clear fluid, and
an area of reddened flesh surrounded it. The man lay as before, his
skin beaded with sweat. Chanter knelt beside him and examined him
with his eyes, then turned to Sheera.

"Leave us."

The old woman
obeyed, pulling the cloth across the door behind her. In the
subsequent gloom, the Mujar leant closer to touch the skin at the
base of man's throat.

"He's
marked."

Talsy glanced
at him, then at the jagged scar on man's throat. "What do you
mean?"

Chanter traced
the scar. "He bears the mark of a Kuran. He has done some great
service for a forest soul."

"So he's
chosen?"

"He may be the
most worthy of all these people, apart from you, of course." He
cast her a gentle smile.

Talsy scrambled
to her feet. "I'll get some water."

Hurrying out,
she almost bumped into Sheera, who stood outside, holding a pail of
water. Talsy shot her a smile and took it before returning to
Chanter's side. The Mujar filled a cup and poured it onto the wound
as he invoked Shissar. The humble shack came alive with soft
swirling mist, hissing rain and splashing water mixed with the
crash of waves. Chanter laid his hands on the wound, and the
seeping redness vanished. The edges drew together and sealed in a
pale scar. The man's skin cooled as his fever subsided, and a
little colour invaded it.

Chanter sat
back as the stranger's eyelids flickered, then opened to reveal the
blackest eyes Talsy had ever seen. His expression changed to one of
fearful surprise when he spotted Chanter, and he thrust himself
back against the wall, banging his head on it. The Mujar watched
him with narrowed eyes, and Talsy's heart sank. The man licked his
lips, his gaze darting between them.

"Mujar." He
hesitated, glancing at Talsy. "Who are you?"

"Friends."

"What's
happened? Where am I?"

"You were found
wounded in the forest and brought here. We healed you," Talsy
explained.

"My
people?"

"Dead."

He stared at
Chanter. "Why did you help me?"

"You carry the
mark of a Kuran. You are one of the chosen."

"Yes." The man
ran a hand through his damp hair. "We left our village, but we were
attacked in the forest. Could I have some water?"

Talsy gave him
a cup of water, and he gulped it down, finishing two more before he
turned his attention to his wound and fingered the scar on his
flank.

"Why were you
marked by a Kuran?" Talsy asked.

"A what?" He
looked confused.

"A forest
soul."

The man shook
his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You helped a
forest."

"I saved one,
yes, because I lived in it. A bunch of woodcutters started felling
the trees, and I chased them out. In a fit of spite, they set fire
to the woods, but I stopped it with a firebreak. Then I taught them
a lesson they'd never forget. On the way home, a bolt of lightning
struck me."

Chanter nodded,
studying the man.

Talsy asked,
"Did you save the trees only because you lived amongst them?"

"No, not
entirely. I was raised in the forest, I didn't want a bunch of
idiots cutting it down."

"Do you hate
Mujar?"

"No." He shot
Chanter a wary glance. "My father was friends with one. He used to
take me into the woods as a child. He taught me many things about
the trees and animals. When I was eleven, he was taken to a
Pit."

"What's your
name?" Talsy ignored Chanter's hard look.

"Kieran."

Talsy smiled
and introduced herself and Chanter. Kieran had relaxed while they
talked, but when the Mujar rose to leave, he looked nervous again.
Chanter paused to eye him in a puzzled manner before pushing aside
the cloth. Talsy rose to follow, and Kieran climbed to his feet,
clearly stiff from days of lying on the thin pallet. He banged his
head on the roof, and Talsy turned to glance up at him in surprise.
She and Chanter could stand in the shack, but Kieran had to hunch
over, and rubbed the back of his head.

Outside, he
towered over them, at least six inches taller than Chanter and
dwarfing Talsy and Sheera. The old woman studied him as he stood
blinking in the sunlight, then turned to Talsy.

"Is he
chosen?"

"Yes."

Kieran spotted
the stew pot and helped himself to a bowl, sitting on one of the
stools. Sheera picked up a bundle and held it out to Chanter.

"These are for
you. Gifts from the people."

The Mujar took
the bundle and squatted to open it, pulling out a new pair of black
leather leggings and a silver-studded vest. He smiled at Sheera,
his eyes alight.

"Gratitude."

Sheera blushed,
and Talsy grinned. While Chanter went into the forest to change,
Talsy sat by the fire and Kieran put away copious amounts of stew.
Sheera explained that a shack had been made available for her,
waving aside her protests that she had a tent.

"Nonsense,
child, you've brought us a great gift. The least we can do is see
to it that you're looked after. Will the Mujar stay with you at
night?"

Talsy shook her
head. "I don't know. Sometimes he does, for he knows I don't like
to be alone, but other times he leaves."

"Well, I doubt
he'll stay now that you have all of us around you."

Talsy doubted
it too, and experienced a pang of sadness. Chanter returned, clad
in his new clothes, and stayed in the camp until dark, when Talsy
was installed in her shack. He paced around the cramped interior
before settling by the door when she lay down on the mattress.

Talsy woke
alone, but, as she sat down to breakfast with Sheera and Kieran,
Chanter returned in the shape of an eagle and transformed. He
consumed the humble porridge hungrily, then took her arm and led
her away from the camp. In the forest's quiet, he perched on a log
and looked up at her.

"You have a job
to do."

Talsy settled
on the ground at his feet. "I do?"

He nodded. "You
must tell these people to find, or build a ship in which to travel
to the western continent."

"Why?"

"We have to get
to the gathering."

"What's
that?"

"You'll see,”
Chanter said. “We'll need a big ship to carry a hundred and fifty
people, although by the time we leave, there may be more or
less."

"Why are you
being so mysterious?"

He smiled. "I
don't have all the answers; I just know we must go."

Talsy toyed
with a leaf skeleton. "To build a ship, we'll need wood, and that
means felling trees. Also, it will take time."

"I know. Last
night I went to the harbour up the coast, but there are no big
ships there. I'll search further afield, but I'll be gone awhile.
If we have to build one, I'll speak to the Kuran of this forest,
and she will give me trees."

She glanced
around at the sun-dappled forest. "There's a Kuran here?"

"Yes, but she's
not angry like the one near Jishan. Truemen have only taken a few
of her trees."

"How long will
you be gone?"

"A few days,"
he said. "You'll be safe with these people. They have no reason to
harm you."

"So what must I
tell them?"

"That they must
gather the things they'll need to build a ship, other than wood.
Canvas, rope, whatever. It will be needed to repair any ship I
find, anyway."

He rose to his
feet, and impulsively she hugged him. He patted her back until she
released him and stepped back to gaze into his eyes.

"Don't be
long."

Chanter smiled
and walked away to spring into the air. With a rush of wind he
vanished, and a daltar eagle rose into the sky on powerful wing
strokes.

When Talsy told
Sheera of Chanter's plans, she called a meeting of her peers, and
the word soon spread. Talsy missed Chanter, and several times
caught Kieran’s dark gaze upon her, which she found unnerving. The
following day, a party of men went to the ruined town up the coast
and returned with rope and canvas, copper nails and tar.

Nobody objected
to the Mujar's plans, and the chosen set to work making sails and
rigging. Kieran went hunting and brought Sheera a buck for her stew
pot, then vanished the next day. The old seeress told Talsy that he
had gone to find his sword. She was glad to escape his eyes, which
seemed to dwell on her far too often, and spent her time making
sails with the other women.

Chapter Fifteen

Talsy glanced
up from the sail she sewed as Kieran sauntered into the camp with a
long sword strapped to his hip. It complemented his black shirt,
over which he now wore a sturdy leather jacket armoured with strips
and studs of metal and lined with fur. Studded wristbands encircled
his arms, and oddments of armour were tied here and there with
leather thongs, each guarding a vulnerable spot.

His leather
trousers were scuffed at the knees and seat, and a short cloak of
strong black material, lined with crimson silk, hung from his broad
shoulders. The outfit looked like it might have once been a
soldier’s uniform that had been patched and added to over the
years. He walked with more confidence, but his guilt at his failure
to protect his people haunted his eyes afresh. Four days had passed
since he had left to search for his weapon, and he looked tired,
which made her think that the battleground must be quite far away.
He went straight to Sheera's hut for a plate of stew, then vanished
inside, presumably to sleep.

Two days later,
six brawny men wandered into the camp. Although welcomed as chosen,
they looked like a rough lot to Talsy, unshaven and dirty, carrying
rusty swords and knives. They pitched ragged tents on the camp's
outskirts and settled in, watching the young girls with lustful
leers and the occasional coarse remark. Talsy sensed trouble
brewing when they took wine skins from their packs.

As the
strangers drank, they grew more sullen and beady-eyed, their coarse
remarks becoming offensive. In response, the chosen found tasks
that took them well away from the noisome group and their obnoxious
comments. Talsy retreated to the beach with most of the women to
aid with the sail making. Late in the afternoon, while she sat with
several women and cursed Kieran scrutiny, which lingered upon her
every so often, a piercing scream shattered the camp's peace.

Talsy leapt up
and raced towards the sound, drawing her knife. The scream came
from the outsiders' camp, where three of the men toyed with a young
girl, laughing as they pulled at her clothes. Talsy attacked the
nearest man, slicing his arm. He roared and turned on her, his
grimy face mottled with rage. A backhand blow sent her sprawling
with a surprised grunt, and he came after her, his expression
murderous. A black sword blade brought him up short, and he
stumbled back, his incredulous gaze meeting Kieran’s lofty glower.
The girl still struggled with the other two louts, and Talsy went
after them.

Her knife
gashed one man's chest, forcing him to release the girl, who
wrenched free of the last thug and fled. Talsy brandished the knife
at them.

"You're not
chosen. You're imposters! Get out of our camp, right now!"

"We just wanted
a bit of fun," one man said. "We meant no harm."

"You're scum!"
Talsy shouted. "Mujar haters!"

The larger
man's eyes glittered as he stepped forward. "What if we are? Who's
gonna to make us leave, huh? You?" He sniggered. "Even the big
fellow can't handle six of us."

Talsy glanced
around. Kieran stood a few feet behind her, his sword dangling, his
frosty gaze fixed on the ruffians. Beyond him, the camp's few
mature men looked scared and irresolute, not an iota of courage or
fighting skill between them. She faced the brigands, who smirked,
clearly expecting to have fun once they had despatched the only
warrior who stood between them and their prizes.

She also
doubted Kieran’s ability to win against all of them, and said,
"We're protected by a Mujar. Leave now, or he'll send you screaming
with your clothes on fire."