Children of Another God tbw-1

by T C Southwell

  "Rest. You'll injure yourself."

  She sank down on a rock. "Don't you ever get tired?"

  "No."

  "I'm slowing you down."

  He nodded. "Of course. If not for you, I would fly."

  Talsy gazed at the sky. "I wish I could."

  "Tomorrow we will travel faster."

  "How?"

  "You'll see."

  When her gasping eased, he led her onward through the woods at a far slower pace. Talsy stumbled after him, amazed by his stamina. She had always thought she was fit and strong, but he made her seem weak. Refusing to give in to her exhaustion, she pushed herself to the limit of her endurance and tried not to show it. By the time he stopped at sunset, her muscles protested every step and her head swam. She erected the tent, eager to provide the comforts she had promised.

  The Mujar tried to help, but the tent seemed to baffle him, and he did more damage than good. When he pulled it askew for the fifth time, she begged him to leave it alone. He sat on a rock while she finished pitching it and collected firewood. After arranging the wood, she rummaged in her bag for the tinderbox she was sure she had packed. Some minutes later, she came to the unhappy conclusion that it was not in the bag at all. Despair flooded her. Without a fire, she could not cook the food she had brought and provide Chanter with the comforts she had promised – her side of the bargain. If she fell short on her side of the deal, he might leave her. Talsy turned stricken eyes upon the Mujar, whose brows rose at her expression.

  "What's wrong?"

  She swallowed. "I – I didn't bring the tinderbox."

  "Ah." He rose and came over to squat beside the pile of wood. "You want to make this burn."

  Talsy nodded. "But without the tinderbox I can't, so I can't cook supper and…"

  Chanter cocked his head and regarded her with gentle eyes. "And that's your side of the clan bond."

  Talsy burst into tears as her tiredness and the feeling of inadequacy that had plagued her all day found release. The Mujar looked astonished, studying her twisted face with obvious fascination. He wiped a tear from her cheek and tasted it.

  "Shissar."

  Talsy gulped, distracted. "What?"

  "Shissar. The Power of Water. It comes from your eyes. Sea water too, very strong."

  "Those are tears. Haven't you ever seen someone cry?"

  He nodded. "Yes, but not up close. Just a lot of wailing, hair-pulling and breast-beating."

  "When you were in a clan?"

  "Yes."

  "What happened to them?"

  Chanter shrugged. "They died."

  "How?"

  "Black Riders."

  Talsy sniffed, wiping her nose. "Why didn't you protect them?"

  "They didn't want me to."

  She pondered his reaction to her tears again. "Have you never cried?"

  "No."

  "Even when you were a child?"

  Chanter considered. "I was never a child."

  "But…" She stared at him, confused. "How were you born?"

  "I don't know." He appeared to lose interest in the subject, and glanced at the pile of wood. "Do you want this to burn?"

  "Yes, but without the tinderbox…"

  Chanter placed his hand on the wood. The air filled with a roaring crackle, and a wave of scorching heat and thick smoke enveloped her. Talsy yelled and jumped up to flee the inferno. The sounds and sensations vanished, and Chanter gripped her flailing arms, forcing her to stop flapping them.

  "It's all right," he said.

  Talsy swallowed another yell and looked around in wide-eyed confusion at the peaceful snow-covered forest. A faint taste of soot lingered on her tongue, and the wood burnt merrily, mocking her panic with its tame glow.

  Chanter released her, frowning. "I should have warned you. The manifestation of Crayash can be frightening, I suppose."

  She took a deep breath to steady her tattered nerves. "No, I should have known nothing can harm me when I'm with you."

  Chanter laughed, revealing perfect white teeth. "Is that what you think?"

  "Isn't it true?"

  His smile faded. "You're a strange creature. Perhaps because you're still young. One day, you too will hate Mujar."

  "No, never."

  He wiped a tear from her cheek. "Such certainty."

  Talsy looked away, startled and confused by his touch. Chanter studied her, then returned to his rock to gaze into the fire. Talsy quelled a pang of disappointment that surprised her and rummaged in the bag for her pots. While she waited for the meat to cook, she pondered him. Since he had agreed to clan bond, he seemed more talkative and friendly. Already she knew her father was wrong about Mujar in several ways. They were not stupid or emotionless, nor were they like animals. The more time she spent with Chanter, the more god-like he seemed.

  Chanter ate the stew, washed his bowl in the snow and handed it back to her. After putting away the equipment, she arranged the bedding in the tent and crawled into it, waiting with bated breath for the Mujar to join her. Dusk crept across the land, sending long fingers of shadow between the trees, and Talsy shivered as the night chill invaded the tent. Chanter sat by the fire and stared into the gathering darkness, clearly oblivious to her expectancy and rapidly freezing extremities.

  When she could bear it no longer, she called out, "Chanter? Are you coming to sleep?"

  He shot her a startled look, then nodded and rose.

  Talsy tensed in anticipation as he eased into the tent and lay down beside her, propped up on one elbow. The temperature rose with his presence, and when he took her cold hands and rubbed them, his were amazingly warm. She wriggled closer to soak up his warmth and make it quite clear that she was willing to participate in any other activities he might desire. He glanced at her, and Talsy shivered with delight, her heart pounding. This close to him, she discovered that he smelt only of his clothes' damp leather.

  Chanter said, "Go to sleep, Talsy."

  Her eyes burnt with tears of mortification. He did not find her attractive. She was just a smelly Trueman girl, not clean and pure like him. She closed her eyes, pretending she had not expected anything else, and rested her cheek on his chest. Within a few minutes, sleep washed her away on midnight waves.

  As soon as the girl slept, Chanter moved away, covering her with a fur. The warmth he had given her would stay with her for a while, perhaps all night. He backed out of the tent, almost tripping over one of the silly strings that held it up. The relief of escaping Dolana's drain was immense. Mujar could not lie on the ground like Lowmen. Not for long, anyway. Of course, the little innocent in the tent did not know that.

  Chanter contemplated the bargain he had made with her. The food she had provided was good, but he did not need the tent or the slow pace. Then again, he was in no hurry. Her offer of comforts was not the reason he had accepted clan bond with her. It had been the desperation with which she had begged for it. He had never known a Lowman to beg, or to look at him with such respect and admiration. Even his clan had treated him as a servant.

  Chanter sat on a rock beside the dying fire and remembered his life with the clan. They had not asked much of him, only an occasional trip into the cesspit and digging graves for their dead. Since the shaman had forbidden him to use the Powers, he sometimes wondered why they let him stay. He had had a hut, hot food and even an occasional mug of beer. The food had filled the empty void of his belly, and, although he did not need it, it was a comfort.

  The hut had kept off the rain, but he had not needed that either. He sometimes wondered why he longed for things he did not need, but there was no answer to that question. The bed was the best thing the clan had given him, a wooden platform on which he could lie without Dolana's drain. Mujar did not need to sleep, but they could if they wished.

  A distant howl drifted on the wind, and he smiled. The wolves were hunting.

  Chapter Four

  Talsy woke shivering, and realised that she was alone. Silver moonlight shone in through the te
nt flap. She pulled her coat close and crawled outside. Cold ashes filled the fire pit, and Chanter was gone. Fear sent icy tendrils to chill her heart. Had he left her alone in the forest with wolves and dire bears? Her father's words of warning echoed in her mind as she scanned the frozen landscape for a sign that he was out there, relieving himself on a tree perhaps. The cold tent told her that he had been gone for some time. Her breath steamed before her face in the still, crisp night air as she searched the moonlit landscape.

  An owl hooted nearby, making her jump. The stillness closed in behind the sound, pressing on her ears. He could not have left her. He would not. A wolf howled close by, the mournful sound sharp in the hush, making her nerves jangle like twanged strings. Panic gripped her, and she fumbled amongst her belongings for her hunting bow. The small arrows would not be much use against wolves, but they might be a deterrent. She needed fire. Tears of terror and self-pity stung her eyes. Chanter had promised to protect her. It had been her Wish. Surely a Mujar would not break a Wish? The wolf howled again, closer, and dread twisted her innards with icy talons. Mujar did not care.

  The wolves were coming, and her only chance of survival was the Mujar who had abandoned her. The trees in the vicinity were too straight and slippery to climb. A flitting lupine shape caught her eye amongst the trees, and she notched an arrow.

  "Chanter!"

  Her scream tore the night's hush like the cry of a dying hare, high and despairing. It did not matter how much noise she made now, the wolves had her scent.

  "Chanter!"

  A black wolf loped towards her from the trees. She stepped back, tripped over a rock, and took aim as she stumbled. The arrow flew straight and true with a savage hiss, burying itself in the wolf's chest. The animal leapt sideways and collapsed. It lay still only for a moment, then rose to its feet as she notched another arrow. Vaguely, she noticed that it was a magnificent animal, pitch black with a silver ruff and ice-blue eyes. The world froze. Silence clamped down like a giant hand, and the air seemed to solidify in her lungs. She was paralysed, unable to breathe or move. Then it vanished and she gasped, sobbing as she finished notching the arrow with desperate haste.

  The black wolf was gone, and Chanter stood there, an arrow protruding from his chest. He pulled it out, a trickle of blood running from the wound. White teeth flashed as he forced a smile. "You call me, then shoot me when I come?"

  Talsy dropped the bow and ran to fling her arms around his neck and cling to him. "There was a wolf!"

  "A big black one?"

  She nodded, her cheek pressed to his chest. "Yes!"

  "So you shot it."

  "Yes."

  "And why do you think I had an arrow in my chest a moment ago?"

  She pulled away to look up at him. "You… that was you?"

  Chanter nodded. "I'm afraid so."

  "Oh… god." Her knees buckled and she sank down, clinging to his legs. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you…" A flood of tears choked off her words. Now he would leave, for she had done the unforgivable. "Please forgive me!" she wailed. "I didn't know!"

  Chanter bent and pried her arms away, then knelt before her. "It's okay. I'm not angry."

  "You're not?" She looked up at him in amazement. "But I shot you!"

  He shrugged. "It didn't hurt much."

  "But I could have…"

  "Killed me?" He chuckled. "Highly unlikely, my little clan. I'm not mortal, remember? I am the undying, accursed Mujar."

  "It's not funny!" She rubbed tears from her cheeks. "I thought you'd left me to the wolves. I was all alone!"

  "Ah, yes, I was on my way back. I thought you'd be getting chilly about now."

  "The wolves might have come while you were gone!"

  "No."

  Talsy sniffed, snuggling up to him as if he was a magnet and she the iron filings. "Why did you leave me?"

  Chanter sighed, allowing her cling to him and soak up his warmth. "Two reasons. Mujar don't like lying on the ground for any length of time, and we also don't need to sleep. I was running with my brothers, the wolves, enjoying the night."

  Talsy revelled in his warmth and the comfort his arms imparted. Her boldness surprised her, for she had always shied away from men, distrusting their intentions. With Chanter she had no such qualms, in fact, his closeness was reassuring and seductive.

  "Why don't you like to lie on the ground?"

  "I'll teach you the ways of Mujar, but not right now. It's the middle of the night, and you need to sleep. We have a long journey tomorrow."

  "Why do you call the wolves your brothers?"

  "Because they are. Every living thing is my kin."

  She glanced up at him. "That's why you won't kill them."

  He nodded. "Something like that. Are you warm?"

  "Yes."

  "Then go and sleep." Chanter stood up, pulled her to her feet and pushed her towards the tent. Talsy crawled inside, expecting him to follow, but found herself alone.

  "Chanter?"

  The forest's stillness answered her, and she turned to poke her head outside. The Mujar had vanished as silently as the wind. Fear chilled her again, but she quelled it, retreating once more into the tent to snuggle under the furs, comforted by his lingering warmth.

  Chanter paused to look back at the tent, alone and alien in the wilderness. Bending to scoop up a handful of snow, he waited until it turned to water in his palm, then rubbed it on his wound. A flash of pain accompanied the healing, making him gasp a cloud of vapour as the injury vanished. Raising his head, he breathed the cold, crisp air, nostrils flaring as he savoured its purity. He sensed the wolves nearby, searching for a scent of quarry. Crouching, he placed his palms on the icy ground, drawing on Dolana. The Earthpower flowed into him with its chilling drain, sapped his warmth and snuffed the Crayash within him. Before it became too strong, he wielded it, like cracking a whip, with a flick of his mind.

  The air solidified, and he changed within the utter silence that surrounded him for that instant. The change required little power. A mere enhancement of his wish brought it about, and his mind conjured the required shape from his racial memory. The lupine form was one he enjoyed, and used often for land travel, though flying was easier. The change included his clothes as a part of his wish, so he would not be naked when he changed back into a man. His skin prickled as fur covered it in a thick, warm pelt, and he experienced vague shrinking and stretching sensations as his shape shifted. The procedure took only a moment. He adjusted to his new form's strange balance, and his paws sank into the snow, its icy crispness making his pads tingle.

  A million scents floated on the still air, tickled his nose with their mysterious temptation and filled his mind with knowledge. Crayash warmed him again as he set off across the snow. Settling into a steady lope, he followed the scent paths that led to the pack. The sinuous grace of his wolf form delighted him, as it always did, with the effortless joy of the four-footed. The scent tracks of snow hares, weasels, mice and ground squirrels flashed past as he loped across patches of snow and ice. The musty scent of tree bark mingled with the faint redolence of soil, wherein he sensed the slow movements of moles, worms and a sleeping vixen curled around her warm cubs.

  A fat snow hare leapt from his path and bounded away across the frost-hardened snow, then paused, panting as its fear leaked away. Chanter padded up to it and touched its timid mind with gentle greetings as the hare sniffed noses with him. Like all his brothers, the hare knew he was Mujar and did not fear him, even when he took the form of its greatest enemy. Leaving his small brother, he continued at a fast lope, his tail a rudder as he twisted and turned amongst the trees, claws gripping frozen ground and snow alike.

  The wolves ran to meet him, tongues lolling in happy greeting. They fawned, tails down, ears laid back in adoration. The leader crawled on his belly, his mate beside him, to lick Chanter's frosted muzzle. The Mujar gambolled amongst them, put them at their ease and invited them to play. They followed him in a frisky dance of wolf kinship and
joy. Lesser animals rolled on their backs in ritual surrender, inviting him to bite their throats. Wolf lore required him to snarl and bristle, which sent the youngsters into frenzies of delight at his attention.

  The greetings over, he sprang away through the forest, the pack leader at his shoulder. Over moonlit snow they ran, as free as the wind, as wild as the mountains they called home. They raced down icy valleys in showers of powder snow and along rocky ridges to taste the frigid wind that fingered their thick fur. Under a cold black sky a-glimmer with a million stars, they loped through the pale moonlight that bathed a frozen land. The song of earth, wind and sky mingled with the soft panting of steaming breath to form a rhapsody of joyful freedom. Ice crystals tinkled and shushed beneath running feet, frost rimed whiskers and fur. The pack breasted a ridge and looked down upon a sweeping valley where a herd of deer huddled in a copse.

  Chanter sat down, his breath steaming. The lead wolf approached, fawned and licked Chanter's muzzle in a loving farewell before he led the pack down the steep slope towards the sleeping deer. The Mujar turned and padded away. The moonlight's magic held him in its spell. He frolicked in a deep snowdrift and gambolled down a slide of soft powder, leaping and shaking the snow from his coat. Icicles sparkled and virgin snow glittered like a bed of diamonds. A shy fox ran to greet him and played with him for a while, then slipped away to hunt mice and hares. A lone stag huffed and shook his antlers at the black wolf before realising what he was, then stepped closer to snuffle him, a world of gentle innocence in his liquid eyes. Chanter padded on, heading westwards, deeper into the mountains.

  Cresting a low hill, he sensed a strange emanation of power in the distance that called to him like a siren's song. The emanation was unvarying and powerful, tugging at his senses. He trotted towards it, opened himself to its strange tingle and sniffed the wind for clues. His footprints meandered through pristine snow, and he paused often, one paw raised, to gauge the possible danger ahead. Moving around a hill, he stopped to gaze in delight at the power's source.