The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (38 page)

"A small one,
be sure, the omens of death come."

"Indeed,"
Chanter replied.

Talsy tore her
eyes from the Kuran to glance at Kieran, who frowned, as if
puzzled. She turned back to the forest's soul as the Mujar spoke
again.

"I need these
five trees, dead."

"Ah." A great
sigh went through the wood, making Talsy shiver again at the
ethereal beauty of the soul and her silvery voice. "A small favour,
yes, an unhappy one."

"Regret, wood
sister."

The iridescent
form twisted, its pearly eyes turning to gaze through the forest.
"Death is near, the path is clear."

Chanter waited
until the Kuran faced him again. "We three ask."

"You three,
friends all, a dear trio to Kuran."

"Yes."

"Beware, wood
brother."

The trees moved
together again, released from the power that held them, cut off the
shaft of sunlight and snuffed out the sparkles. A form remained
like a faint mist, dull in the dimness, then it thinned and
vanished. A sigh went through the trees, and Chanter turned to the
two Truemen.

Talsy was
confused. "She didn't grant it?"

"She can't
refuse a Mujar, I'm afraid. Asking was merely a courtesy." Chanter
sighed.

"So what do we
do now, fetch axes and chop them down?"

He winced. "No,
we wait. It won't be long."

Chanter settled
on a log and Kieran leant against a tree. Talsy fidgeted. The
forest remained silent, waiting. After about half an hour, Chanter
straightened.

"It
begins."

Talsy turned to
face the five trees and froze in wonder. High above, the leaves of
the chosen trees changed. The green faded from them, turning them
first yellow, then red. They fell in a drifting rain, spinning and
swaying to the ground. The trees groaned in almost man-like misery
as they died, and a deeper hush fell over the woods, like a funeral
dirge of silence. Talsy's eyes burnt, and hot tears spilt down her
cheeks. Never had she thought to mourn trees, but it was part of
the forest that died. Though it was an entity that lacked limbs and
organs, flesh and blood, it was nonetheless alive and vibrant, and
it suffered death no less than any Trueman. She turned to Chanter,
whose visage was grim with grief.

"Must we watch
this?" She gulped.

"Yes."

The fall of
leaves ended when the branches were bare, and the wood died. As the
sap withdrew, the branches warped and twisted like hands writhing
in agony, the wood screaming softly in pain. Twigs snapped off and
fell, branches split with harsh cracks and deep groans. The bark
peeled off and fell in long strips down the golden trunks, the
fresh yellow wood faded to grey. The five trees that less than an
hour ago had been proud and green now stood as bare grey
trunks.

Silence fell,
then another great sigh wafted through the wood, and birds sang
again in the distance. Chanter walked over the red carpet of newly
fallen leaves to the five dead trees and laid his hands on one,
invoking Dolana. With it, he lopped off the branches flush with the
trunk, then sheared off the dead tree close to the ground. It tore
a cloud of green leaves from its neighbours as it crashed down.
Chanter split it into a dozen perfect planks, and repeated the
procedure with the other four trees.

He returned to
Talsy, his eyes downcast. "That should be enough."

She followed as
he strode away. "We'll send men to collect the wood."

The Mujar
nodded. "Kieran will guide them."

Talsy trotted
to keep up with his long strides. "What did the Kuran mean, 'death
is near, the path is clear'?"

"The Black
Riders are coming."

"But we're the
chosen!"

"There are
unchosen hiding amongst us, and don't look at him," he admonished
as she glanced at Kieran. "He's chosen. The men who attacked the
girl are still nearby, and maybe others. We don't have much
time."

"Will the Black
Riders kill the chosen too?"

"They'll kill
all in their path."

Suppressing a
shiver, she followed him back to the camp, where he despatched
Kieran to lead a group of men into the woods to fetch the planks.
That task took the rest of the day, while Chanter paced the beach,
waiting for his ship to come in. He stayed there all night, and his
urgency worried Talsy.

The following
morning, she tripped over Kieran on her doorstep again and cursed
him as he walked off with quiet dignity. Hurrying to the beach, she
found Chanter perched on a rock, gazing out to sea. In the
distance, a low black object moved through the waves as if an
invisible hand powered it. As it came closer, she made out more
details, and it approached with remarkable speed. When it grated
onto the sand, she frowned at it in dismay. The burnt-out hull
reeked of smoke and soot, water sloshing in its bilges.

The chosen
hauled the hull far up the beach, above the high tide mark. Chanter
conferred with the shipwright, then invoked Dolana. The people
gasped when the icy hush released them, and Chanter laid his hands
on each fresh plank and formed it into a new rib or stem post. The
men carried the pieces to the ship and held them in place, and
Chanter used the Earthpower to weld the wood together.

At the end of
the day, Chanter and the weary men stood back to admire the work
that should have taken them a week. With the hull completed, all
that remained was laying the deck and stepping the masts. After
supper, Chanter returned to the beach to work on the ship all
night. By morning, the deck beams were in place and half the
decking laid. The chosen packed provisions aboard, barrels of
water, sacks of potatoes and turnips, and hay for the animals.

The next day
work continued, and Chanter used the powers to hasten it. Kieran
slaved harder than anyone, and often he and Chanter worked side by
side, dripping with sweat. The Mujar's strength was prodigious, but
Kieran seemed to be a little stronger, although he tired when
Chanter did not.

At lunchtime,
the men returned to the camp, where the womenfolk had prepared a
meal. Chanter and Kieran came to Sheera's hut and sat on the low
wooden stools while the old woman ladled thick stew into their
bowls. Kieran brought with him the musky smell of sweat, and Talsy
wrinkled her nose as she sat next to Chanter. The Mujar remained
odourless, even though he had sweated just as much as the
warrior.

While they ate,
Talsy pondered Chanter's toil, which seemed strange for a being who
commanded the elements. "Why can't you just command Dolana to build
the ship?" she asked.

The Mujar
glanced at Sheera and Kieran, then smiled. "A ship is built of
wood. Unlike stone, it isn't pure Dolana, it contains Shissar and
Ashmar. I can't make it flow like rock, only form it into the right
shapes, which must then be bound together."

"But you could
build one out of ice, for instance."

"Yes," he
agreed. "Ice can be crafted easily, for it is pure Shissar. I can
cause it to take any shape I wish, but it would not be very
comfortable as a ship on a long voyage. For that matter, I could
cause the sea to freeze in a great pathway, but it's a long way to
walk."

Talsy cast
Kieran a superior smile, but he seemed unimpressed, concentrating
on his food. Sheera's faded brown eyes were wide with wonder,
however. The Mujar spoke matter-of-factly, clearly unaware of the
awe his words inspired in those around him, no matter how well they
hid it.

Chanter's head
jerked up, and his brows drew together. Talsy stared at him in
alarm, and Kieran put aside his bowl. A faint rumbling came on the
wind, like thunder or an earthquake. Or the drumming of thousands
of hooves, growing louder. Chanter stood up and took hold of
Talsy's arm, glancing at Sheera.

"Gather the
chosen," he said. "Don't let them flee."

The old woman
hurried over to the other groups that stood in alarmed confusion,
gathering them together with urgent gestures. Youngsters who had
been playing in the forest ran back to the camp, yelling a warning.
Other stragglers who had been in the woods gathering nuts and
berries or answering the call of nature came running into the
camp.

Talsy looked up
at Chanter. "You're going to protect them?"

"Yes."

The Mujar
strode to the middle of the settlement and stopped, his eyes
searching the distant forest whence the rumbling came. The people
gathered around him, gazing at him with fear and hope. Youngsters
clung together and the older seers stood like bastions of calm amid
a sea of whimpering dread. The faint thunder of hooves struck a
familiar fear into Talsy's heart, and she clung to Chanter's hand,
soaking up his calm.

Even though a
Mujar protected them, the terror the Hashon Jahar engendered could
not be denied, although his presence made it possible to stave off
panic. Kieran had disappeared, and Talsy wondered if he had fled.
She recalled the Kuran's prophetic words with a shiver. The Black
Death approached. The unstoppable Hashon Jahar, against whom no
Trueman city or town had ever stood. People wept and wailed, and
Talsy stared at the trees as the crowd crept closer to the
Mujar.

A finger of
darkness seeped from the forest, flowing over the land's contours.
The Black Riders approached at a full gallop. Flocks of sheep and
goats scattered in panic, like flotsam swept before a dark wave.
Young girls hid their faces, clinging to each other. Some tried to
run, but older, wiser members of the group held them back. Many
clasped their hands and prayed, closing their eyes to block out the
approaching horror.

Talsy fought a
strong urge to flee, swallowing the lump of terror in her throat.
Chanter’s presence lent her the courage to stand still, and she
told herself that no harm would come to her while she was under his
protection. He shot her a warning glance, and she braced herself as
the air screamed with raging fire, engulfing the people in the
illusion of a massive conflagration. The manifestation winked out,
and the crowd beat at their clothes in a desperate bid to put out
the spectral flames that had licked over them. Many wept in
hysterical terror and clung to each other.

Chanter raised
an arm and pointed to the beach on the left of the camp. Blue fire
shot from the sand with a thump, rising ten feet high. It followed
Chanter's finger as he turned to guide the firewall. The Hashon
Jahar thundered across the fields beyond in a long line, riding
four abreast.

The leaders
turned to follow the edge of the fire, trying to outrun it and slip
through. Chanter's fire kept pace with their steeds, foiling them.
The firewall reached the sea to the right of the camp and entered
it in a cloud of steam that obscured the flames. The Black Riders
halted on the shore, their steeds rearing and plunging, splashing
into the waves before turning away. The line slowed and stopped,
and the Riders that still emerged from the wood spread out to
encircle the camp just beyond the wall of fire.

Although the
Hashon Jahar were only a few hundred feet away, the heat shimmer
warped them, and Talsy could not make out any details. Their horses
pranced and pawed the ground, snorted and shook their manes.
Thousands of Riders surrounded the camp, too many to count, a
seething sea of glinting armoured forms. As they had been at
Horran, they were silent but for the thud of hooves and jingle of
armour. They slowed into immobility, facing the fire. A great sigh
went through the crowd, and pale faces smiled as Chanter turned
from the wall.

He frowned at
Talsy. "We must launch the ship and sail as soon as it's ready.
Tell them."

Too shy to
address the masses herself, she went in search of Sheera. The old
seeress shouted the instructions to those nearest her, who passed
it on. Men and women broke from the group around Chanter and headed
for their various tasks, throwing nervous glances at the Hashon
Jahar. Talsy headed back towards Chanter, noticing several
rough-looking men beyond him, revealed by the thinning crowd. Fear
gripped her heart as she recognised one of the brigands who had
attacked the girl, and she broke into a run, pushing people
aside.

"Chanter! Look
out!" she yelled.

The man lunged,
thrusting a spear into the Mujar's back. The bloody head sprouted
from the centre of Chanter's chest, and he doubled over, clutching
it. Time seemed to slow as he struggled to keep his feet, turning
to face his attackers. Fire exploded from him and engulfed the men,
but through the flames a long club fell, striking him on the side
of the head. The Mujar's knees buckled, and the protruding spear
flipped him onto his side as he hit the ground.

The firewall
vanished in a whump of sucked-in air. Bedlam erupted as the chosen
ran screaming towards the beach. Talsy fought her way towards
Chanter, buffeted by the panic-stricken people who raced past her.
The men bent over Chanter, clubbing, kicking and spitting on him.
The Hashon Jahar moved. As if a silent signal spurred them, they
leapt forward in a charge. Many of the steeds reared in their
eagerness, loosed from their riders’ restraint. Long lances
lowered, and swords flashed in the sunlight. Talsy tried to reach
Chanter, but the wild-eyed stampede forced her back. The Black
Riders crossed the scorched line where Chanter's fire had been and
converged on the camp. The thunder of their hooves drowned out her
desperate cries as she shouted his name.

An arm snapped
around her waist and yanked her off her feet with enough force to
punch the air out of her lungs. She yanked out her knife, kicking
and squirming. Kieran spun and ran for the shelter of some shacks,
ignoring her struggles and bellowed abuse.

"There's
nothing you can do for him! He doesn't need your help!" he yelled
back.