The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (40 page)

He shot her a
hard glance. "Shut up."

"I will -"

He clamped a
hand over her mouth, and her struggles at this indignity almost
dislodged them.

Kieran held her
tighter and grated, "Stop it!"

The hoof beats
drew nearer, loud in the forest's stillness, and she subsided,
trying to pry his hand away finger by finger. Four Black Riders
came into view below, walking, their heads turning to scan the
forest with blank eyes. They seemed drawn to the tree in which she
and Kieran hid, and Talsy sent a silent prayer to the Kuran. The
Hashon Jahar halted their steeds below, and she was certain they
could somehow sense them. Kieran eased his grip a little, allowing
her to stare downwards, terror gripping her heart. The Riders sat
perfectly still, as if waiting for a sign.

A faint green
haze crept between her and the Riders, drawing a veil around the
tree in which they sheltered. The scent of wood and rich soil
wafted up from it, and tiny sparkles glittered like dust motes. The
forest Kuran answered her prayer, sending gentle fingers of herself
to dim the Black Riders' senses. They waited for what seemed like
an eternity, then the Hashon Jahar walked away.

Talsy relaxed
with a sigh, pulling Kieran’s hand away. He returned her glare, not
bothered, it seemed, by her anger. She turned her back on him and
tried to ignore him, which was difficult since they were crammed
into the fork. As soon as the green haze dispersed, she tried to
move away.

Kieran held her
back. "Wait."

"It's safe,"
she said. "The Kuran has withdrawn her power."

He glanced
down. "There's no hurry. We're still safer up here."

"I need some
fresh air."

"You've spent
too long with a Mujar, girl. You don't smell so good yourself."

Talsy gasped at
his effrontery, wrenched free and moved to another branch. "Just
because we share the same tree doesn't mean we have to sit on top
of each other."

"Except that I
might have to stop your flapping mouth again."

"You’re the
most disgusting, boorish, moronic bully I've ever had the
misfortune to meet," she stated.

"Apart from
you, you mean," he shot back.

Talsy seethed,
unable to think of a rejoinder. Kieran seemed to be endowed with an
above average intelligence, for a man.

"You're right,"
she agreed. "I have spent too long with a Mujar. I've forgotten
just how unpleasant a Trueman can be."

"Ah, well,
compared with a Mujar we're all flawed. Haven't you realised it
yet? Mujar are perfect in every way. That's why Truemen hate them.
They make us look like a bunch of bull-headed savages. They
epitomise all that's pure and good, and are quite subservient,
which you must enjoy."

Talsy wished
that she could kick him, but her perch was too precarious. "I
prefer Chanter's company to yours any day."

Kieran sighed
and shook his head. "He'll break your heart, without meaning to, of
course. Loving a Mujar is like loving the wind. No one can hold
onto something that wild."

"I don't want
to hold onto him."

"He won't stay
-"

"He will!" She
scowled at him. "He'll never leave me. He told me so himself, and
Mujar don’t lie."

"I was going to
say, he won't stay with you at night."

"Because of the
Dolana, but there's ways around that."

Kieran shifted,
leaning closer. "Not just because of the Dolana, because they don't
sleep. They run free at night in animal form."

"How do you
know so much about Mujar?"

Kieran looked
pensive, as if considering how much to tell her about his past. "I
grew up with one. He taught me many things about Mujar. My father
loved Dancer like a brother, but still he would not stay. It broke
my father's heart when they took him to the Pit."

A pang of pity
went through her, but her anger still simmered. "Well, all this has
nothing to do with my relationship with Chanter."

Talsy started
to climb down, but he pulled her back, ignoring her protests,
pushed her into the fork and pinned her there. She seethed, knowing
the futility of fighting him, and they sat cramped in the fork
until the afternoon. When he decided it was safe to climb down, she
made a bee-line for the edge of the woods to check on the Hashon
Jahar. He gripped her wrist and towed her deeper into the
forest.

"They're still
there," he said. "We'll look tomorrow."

Chanter gazed
up at the stars, so cold and beautiful against the night sky. The
Hashon Jahar would leave him trapped by Dolana, and, if no one
helped him, rain would heal his flesh around the spears, holding
him forever. Dolana's warning had stopped, allowing him the peace
to seek a dreamless sleep, and he hoped that Talsy was safe rather
than dead.

Chanter became
aware of movement in the shadows around him. Inky figures walked
across the moon-silvered soil, and beasts heaved themselves to
their feet with a jingle of harness. The Hashon Jahar were on the
move again. They mounted their tireless steeds and formed up into
rows and columns. Chanter knew where they were going. They answered
the same silent call as he did, guided by the gods to the
gathering. The steady clop of hooves passed him, row upon orderly
row of animated statues of stone and earth blood. Chanter wondered
if his purpose, granted by choosing the girl, was done.

From the sounds
of their hoof beats, he knew that the column of Black Riders wound
through the rocks and onto the beach. He envisioned the moonlight
glinting on their armour and the silken hides of lifeless horses.
They would enter the sea, and the waves would close over them as
they rode down the sandy sea bed, forging through the water, their
passage marked by a swathe of phosphorescence. They would move with
great torpidity through the dark ocean depths. Weeks or months from
now, however, they would emerge onto the shores of the western
continent to conclude their work on this world.

Talsy woke
stiff and cold, and threw off Kieran’s cloak with a grunt of
annoyance. She had not asked for comforts from the surly warrior,
nor did she want any. The dawn chill prickled her skin with goose
bumps, but she ignored it to rise and stretch. Kieran studied her
with the idle, disinterested gaze of a man watching gold fish in a
bowl. Annoyed by his unwanted help and unwelcome surveillance, she
snorted and strode away through the forest, back towards the camp
by the shore. Kieran rose and followed.

At the edge of
the forest, her heart leapt. The Black Riders had vanished as if
they had never been. She ran through the dew-wet fields towards the
camp, her spirits lifted by the prospect of finding Chanter and
releasing him from whatever predicament he was in. Before she
entered the settlement, the battlefield stench hit her, churning
her empty stomach. She slowed, averting her eyes from the torn
bodies, most battered beyond recognition.

Talsy searched
the debris with flinching eyes, while Kieran lifted broken walls to
peer beneath them and pulled aside ragged cloths that covered
mangled remains. His lack of reaction, other than a slight paling
of his lips, told her that he was hardened to such sights. Talsy
gave a cry of horror when she found Chanter, and ran to kneel
beside him, her throat tight with anguish. She pulled out the spear
that pierced his throat and lifted his dusty head onto her lap,
stroking the tangled hair from his bloody face. He smiled at her,
then grimaced as Kieran pulled a spear from his hand.

She turned to
the warrior. "Be gentle!"

He paused.
"It's hard to be gentle when pulling spears from a man's body."

The coldness of
Chanter’s flesh shocked her, and she chafed his free hand to try to
warm it. When he had removed the other spears, Kieran squatted
beside the Mujar and considered the broken shaft protruding from
his chest. After some contemplation, he lifted Chanter and pulled
the spear out of his back, since the shattered shaft made it
impossible to pull through. The spear head came free with a grating
of metal on bone and a gush of fresh blood. Talsy looked away as
her stomach made a determined effort to hurl its contents out of
her mouth. Kieran dropped the spear and slipped his arms under the
Mujar, lifting him. He strode down the beach, followed by Talsy,
her brow wrinkled with worry. Kieran lowered Chanter into the sea,
holding on when he convulsed with the agony of healing.

"Slowly!" Talsy
cried. "Don't you know healing is more painful for Mujar?"

"That’s why
it's better to get it over with."

Chanter writhed
as the water closed over his wounds, his face twisted as he groaned
through gritted teeth. Talsy and Kieran ducked a little when the
air swelled and filled with the sound of beating wings, the Mujar's
power running wild with his pain. Kieran braved the manifestation
with admirable aplomb as waves washed over the hole in Chanter's
chest and his convulsions increased. The manifestation of Ashmar
winked out and the paroxysms ebbed, and the lines of pain smoothed
from Chanter's face. The healing had been swift in the sea's
powerful embrace.

The Mujar
opened his eyes and smiled, then a flash of Shissar engulfed them
and Kieran held a sleek, finned blue-grey creature. With a powerful
lash of its flukes, the dolphin slipped from his grasp and powered
away into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves. Talsy stared after
him in confusion, while Kieran waded back to shore.

She followed
him, grumbling, "He's never done that before."

Kieran glanced
at her. "He needs to be free for a while."

Talsy paused in
the shallows to gaze out to sea. The dolphin leapt from the waves,
summersaulted and crashed back into the water with a mighty splash.
She smiled and plodded up the beach after Kieran, glanced around
for the ship and groaned when she found it. The Black Riders had
reduced it to firewood. Even the original burnt hull and
copper-bound keel were smashed. The mast lay snapped in two amid
tangled rigging and torn sails.

Talsy sank down
in the soft sand as a wave of despair washed over her. "What are we
going to do now?"

Kieran kicked
the broken wood. "Build another."

"How? There
aren't any people to help with the work. The three of us can't
build a ship. Even if there are other survivors, we don't have the
time."

"The Mujar can
do it alone."

"He can't
command wood like he can ice or stone, he told us."

The warrior
picked up a twisted piece of copper. "Then let him build it out of
ice or stone."

"Ice perhaps,
but a stone ship would never float."

"It would if
the hull was thin enough."

She frowned,
pondering this idea. "But stone would be too brittle. It would
crack."

"If he can
command the stone to form a ship, he can stop it from
cracking."

Talsy stared
out to sea, where Chanter frolicked in the waves. Why had he not
thought of this before? Then again, Mujar were not inclined towards
things mechanical or constructing Truemen objects. She remembered
how even erecting a simple tent had baffled him. Chanter was a
creature of the wild world, with no need to create devices of
Truemen design. Only when burdened with helpless Truemen was he
forced to turn his hand to building. Perhaps this was the reason
Truemen compared Mujar to animals, for they had no use for the
trappings of so-called civilisation.

The dolphin
powered to shore and beached in the breakers. The faint mist of
Shissar engulfed him as he transformed, and he stood up in
man-shape once more and walked up the beach towards them. By the
time he reached Talsy, he was dry. His hair glittered and his skin
glowed with health. The Mujar flopped down in the sand beside her,
shooting her a smile before turning to gaze at the dejected warrior
who stood amid the wreckage of the ship. Chanter brushed hair from
his face and studied the debris with a slight frown.

"What do we do
now?" Talsy asked, curious to compare his ideas with Kieran’s.

The Mujar
pursed his lips. "I could build a ship of ice, and lay the wood on
it to keep the cold from you."

"What if there
are more survivors?" Kieran asked.

"Then I'll make
a ship big enough for all of us."

Kieran
approached and knelt before the Mujar, and his wariness struck
Talsy afresh. "What about a ship of stone. Could you build it?"

Chanter smiled.
"Certainly, but would it float?"

Kieran
explained his theory, and the Mujar studied the drawings the
warrior sketched in the sand. When he finished, Chanter nodded.

"I can build
it, but first we must find out how many of the chosen
survived."

Kieran rose, a
hand on his sword hilt. "I'll start looking."

As he turned
away, Chanter also stood. "Kieran." The warrior swung back, and the
Mujar bowed his head. "Gratitude."

Kieran made a
vague gesture, clearly uncertain of what to do. Chanter smiled and
raised a hand in the palm up Mujar sign that betokened surrender,
or friendship in this case, Talsy guessed. Certainly it was a
gesture that meant no harm.

"Wish."

The warrior
frowned, glancing at Talsy, then at the Mujar. "You healed me when
I had no Wish. You don't owe me now."

Chanter shook
his head. "Wish."

Kieran pondered
for a moment. "I have some questions."

"Ask. Three
only."

Kieran gestured
to Talsy. "Why is she Mujar marked?"

"She is the
First Chosen, worthy of the mark."

Kieran’s
expression was unreadable, his dark eyes intent under lowered
brows. "Why must we go west?"

"For the
gathering."

"What's the
gathering?"

"All the chosen
and free Mujar must come together at a place appointed by the gods
for the final confrontation."