Children of Another God tbw-1

by T C Southwell

  "Not angry, or hateful?"

  "No. I'd still be glad that you're free, and I freed you. I'd only be sad that you left me."

  Chanter stared at the sea, squinting in the glare. "I offer you the Wish again. Anything you want. Anything at all."

  "I want nothing."

  "Why were you weeping when you took off the collar?"

  She smiled. "For joy."

  "That I had been returned to you."

  "That you were free."

  Chanter frowned, and she dished up the stew to distract him. He seemed to be deep in thought, and Talsy feared that he contemplated leaving. When she collected the empty bowls, he looked up at her again.

  "You must accept the Wish. Name it now, for I'll not offer it again. I'll grant you anything, even to stay with you always, which I know you want."

  She looked away, ashamed of her selfish hope. "Yes, I want that, but I won't ask you for it, no matter how many times you offer me a Wish. Your happiness is more important to me than my own. Don't you understand that?"

  Chanter bowed his head, then raised it. "Look at me."

  Talsy met his intense eyes, and he held her gaze. He jumped up, startling her, and she thought he was going to leave her lost and forlorn on this barren shore. Then he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. He led her down the beach until the waves lapped at her toes, stopped and turned to her, releasing her hand. The urge to beg him to stay almost overwhelmed her, but the words stuck in her throat. She could not steal his freedom with a selfish wish. She loved him too much to trap him. The wind whipped his hair as he raised his head, spread his hands and addressed the sky in sonorous tones.

  "Where one is worthy, so shall there be others. So say the laws of retribution you inflicted upon this world. You commanded, 'find me the one, and they shall be saved'. Antanar, God of Life, hear me. I, who am your eyes and ears, say you thus. I am your messenger of salvation, to whom you gave the power to choose or not to choose."

  The gravity of his demeanour confused Talsy, and she glanced around, wondering who he was talking to. His words held the sing-song quality of a ritual.

  Chanter lowered his eyes to her face. "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why did you save me, when you want nothing in return?"

  She looked away in embarrassment, not wanting to admit her feelings, which she had striven to hide for so long. Several flippant replies occurred to her, but she could not lie to him. "Because… I love you."

  "Even though I can never be what you want? Even though I may break our bond and leave you? Would you still love me if I did?"

  "Yes."

  "Then understand this; Mujar don't love as Truemen do. I will never love you like that."

  Her heart ached, but his hurtful words did not change her feelings. "It doesn't matter."

  Chanter inclined his head, his mien expressionless. The air swelled, and the cold stillness of Dolana gripped her in its icy embrace. It vanished, and the screaming hellish visions of Crayash followed, vivid and frightening, then the soft mist and splashing of Shissar engulfed her, followed by the howling wind and beating wings of Ashmar.

  His eyes rested on her. "Are you afraid?"

  "No."

  Chanter reached up and plucked what looked like a rainbow from the sky. The multi-coloured light swirled in his palm, and the misty radiance of water, a hard glitter of earth, and the soft sighing of wind joined it. She stared at the shimmering orb in wonder, then raised her eyes to his. He lifted it above his shoulder, holding her gaze as he clasped the back of her neck with his other hand.

  He said, "I have found one who is worthy. Hear me, Antanar! I have chosen!"

  Chanter rammed the shimmering ball of light into her forehead. Radiance exploded in Talsy's mind, as if the sun had invaded it, along with a howling wind, a raging sea, and the darkness of deep within the earth. For an instant she was sucked into a turbulent vortex of wild Powers, a swirling chaos of the four elements that held no structure or law. They warred with one another, blended and warped impossibly into cold fire, dry water, solid air. In that instant she learnt more about the elements than she would ever have dreamt possible, yet at the same time remained ignorant. The world spun as the visions faded, making her stagger. She opened her mouth to demand what he had done.

  A bolt of lightning rent the blue sky with a deafening thunderclap and struck Chanter’s brow in a blinding flash. He collapsed, and she fell to her knees beside him. Terror choked her, bright spots danced in her eyes, and her ears rang.

  "Chanter!"

  Talsy's hands fluttered over him, afraid to touch him. He lay still, apparently unconscious, and she plucked up the courage to pat his cheek, desperate to rouse him. Spray drifted over them as the waves crashed onto the beach with unusual force, spurring her anguish. She tried to drag him up the beach, but could not lift him. He seemed to be glued to the sand, and her heart laboured with terror.

  Another crack of lightning jerked her head up. The vicious lance of light struck the sea not far from shore. The sky blackened as furious, twisting clouds raced to block out the sun, darkening the day to a dim twilight. Spray splattered her cheek in a shocking, icy slap, and a tremendous wind came out of nowhere and howled around her, whipping the waves into foaming fury. It tore at her with freezing force, pushed her away from Chanter, broke her grip on him and thrust her up the beach with powerful, pitiless gusts. Great breakers thundered onto the sand in a welter of foam, washing over the Mujar. Lightning crackled and thunder rumbled in a deep drumming that shook the ground. Terrified, she fought against the wind, but it forced her back.

  "Chanter!"

  The ground swallowed her. She fell screaming into darkness, clawing at the air, and landed lightly on sticky rock. A terrible stench assaulted her sense of smell. A soft golden light appeared, and she found that she was its source. She shone like a beacon, illuminating the cavern in which she stood. She held up a glowing hand to study its marvellous radiance, then looked around. Below her, a pool of black, evil-smelling slime lapped at the rocks. Hands reached up from the filth and heads covered in clotted muck turned towards her. A dozen voices filled the cavern with piteous cries.

  "Help us, please help us!"

  Talsy realised that, by some strange miracle, she stood at the bottom of a Pit, and the feeble wretches trapped in the slime were Mujar. Their need galvanised her, and she looked around for something to help them with, a rope or stick. Their cries filled her eyes with tears of pity and helpless rage. Unable to bear it, she climbed down and reached out to try to grip an outstretched hand. She caught one and pulled him from the evil muck. He scrambled up the rock and stood beside her.

  "Gratitude."

  "Go," she said. "Climb out."

  "Wish."

  "Nothing, just go. Be free."

  Talsy bent to grip another hand, but slipped and plunged into the fluid. It closed over her head.

  Talsy stood on a windswept plain of sparse grass, facing an army of Hashon Jahar. They stood like ebon statues, unmoving save for the horses' manes and tails blowing in the wind. She retreated several steps, her breath catching and heart pounding. The ten-deep ranks of Black Riders stretched away in either direction, facing her… or what was behind her. She turned to find a city defended by a high wall of grey stone crowned with crenulations, aflutter with war banners and bright pennants of rebellion.

  Thousands of defenders crowded the top of the wall, armed with spears and swords, staring down at the army of death. Their grim faces wore expressions of hatred and defiance, and for an instant she admired their courage, then the foolish futility of their stand struck her. She wondered how she could make out their expressions at this distance, as if she possessed supernatural sight. She walked towards the city, covering the ground at an astounding rate, and soon stood beneath the wall.

  The words that she spoke came from deep within her, marching unbidden from her lips as if drawn from a font of hitherto untapped wisdom. "If there are any amongst you w
ho don't hate Mujar, come forth."

  A man shouted, "Will we be saved?"

  "No. But you'll make peace with this world before you die."

  He spat, as did several others, muttering. Talsy waited, the cold wind whipping her hair. Behind her, the Hashon Jahar waited also. Within the city's walls, angry voices shouted. The small door in the huge metal gates burst open and two women and a man stumbled out, thrust by many hands and boots. They ran to her, their clothes and hair smeared with excrement and rotten fruit. They fell to their knees before her.

  "We don't hate Mujar. We ask for absolution!" the man cried.

  "You wish peace with this world?"

  He nodded, and a woman whimpered, “We do.”

  "Then you shall be saved," Talsy said, and reached down to help him to his feet. A rattle of armour and the snorting of ebon steeds came from behind her, and she turned to face the Black Riders. As if by a silent command, the Hashon Jahar leapt into a gallop towards her, their lances lowering in a line of death. The three people wailed. Two fell to the ground and one woman ran back towards the city, screaming. Talsy stood still. The Black Riders parted before her like a sable sea, passing close by on either side, yet not touching her with so much as a spur or boot. The man and woman crouched behind her, sobbing. Ten rows of Riders thundered past, filling the air with dust, and she turned. As they reached the city, the wall parted just as the mountain had split asunder for Chanter, and the Hashon Jahar rode into the city.

  Talsy was sad to see the city fall, but understood why it must. The woman who had fled ran back to them, wailing.

  The man turned to her. "You could have saved them all!"

  "They are not worthy."

  "Because they hate Mujar?"

  "They had no right to judge, and now it falls upon them."

  A bright room lined with bookshelves appeared around her. Tapestries depicting forest scenes and rich velvet hangings graced the walls between the shelves. Finely woven carpets covered marble mosaic floors, and gilt furniture stood in intricately carved splendour. A man in a blue velvet jacket trimmed with gold thread and white fur looked up from the papers on his desk and glared at her. The gold circlet on his brow told her that he was a king, and his pointed black beard told her which one. Marshon, King of Daslar, pride of the southern continent.

  "Who are you?" he demanded. "And how the hell did you get in here?"

  Talsy was stumped. What was she supposed to do here?

  The King scowled and put down his quill. "Answer me, girl."

  "I… Do you hate Mujar?" It was the only question that seemed appropriate.

  "Of course I hate the yellow bastards, who does not?" He paused. "Let me guess, the church sent you to check up on me now that the Black Riders are coming, right?"

  "No. Why do you hate them?"

  He sighed. "Because they are useless, stupid, uncaring scum."

  "Why must they be useful?"

  "Why should we look after them if they are not?"

  She shrugged. "Out of kindness."

  "Why should we help people who will not help us?"

  "If they jumped off a cliff, would you?"

  Marshon laughed, twirling his moustache. "You must be the local clown."

  "Why do you think they're stupid?"

  "Because they have all that power, but they do not use it."

  She cocked her head. "What should they use it for?"

  "To make this world a better place. They could cultivate the land, order the weather, make things grow just right and build cities, but they will not."

  Talsy pondered that, and the King smiled. She said, "Perhaps they like it the way it is."

  "Well we do not. Our lives are hard, and they could change all that and be rewarded handsomely for it. They could be rich and powerful, but they would rather go to the Pits."

  "Cultivating the land would have repercussions. Wild animals would die, soil would be washed into the sea, rivers would silt up, and cities would breed more people to pollute the air with smoke and cut trees for building and burning. For a while things would be good, but your descendants would pay the price."

  The King scowled, leaning forward. "Just whose side are you on, anyway?"

  "Why do you say they're uncaring?"

  "Because they will not lift a finger to help a drowning child! They stand by while villages die of plague, crops fail and people starve when they could so easily save them."

  This was a tough one. Talsy had problems with it herself. "But what have you done to earn their care? Why should they help people who don't even help each other? I've seen children starving on the streets of Horran, and no Trueman had the decency to save them, so why should Mujar?"

  "We do the best we can, but sometimes there is not enough food. Mujar could make our crops grow well enough to feed everyone. It is not that we do not care, but they certainly do not."

  "That's not true. Farmers grow more than enough food, but they won't allow those with no money to eat it. They'd rather plough it back into the soil."

  He shook his head, tapping the table. Clearly she was annoying him. "That is economics, and it is harsh, I agree. If the Mujar helped, there would be no need for anyone to starve. But why will they stand by and let an innocent child drown, without lifting a finger to help? Tell me that, if you can."

  Talsy hesitated. "Perhaps… it was the child's fate."

  "That does not mean you should not try to change it."

  Talsy thought about the young prince Chanter had saved, whom the Hashon Jahar had killed only a few months later. Also, Horran, whose fate Chanter had also delayed. Yet he had saved her when she had almost drowned, and then the sherlon had rescued her, too. She was not being allowed to die, while others did not seem able to avoid it. There was a lesson in there somewhere. She remembered the tormented Kuran, dying because of Truemen's cruelty, and the strange creatures that had appeared after Rashkar had fallen, beasts that Truemen would have slaughtered or enslaved. Her race had sealed its fate long before the Mujar had arrived. She had the answer, although it grieved her to say it. The King shifted, waiting.

  She said, "They were not worthy."

  Talsy woke on warm sand, surf pounding the shore nearby. Chanter lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, most of his lean length clear of the sand.

  He smiled. "So, you're back."

  Sitting up, she gazed at the peaceful vista of sea and sand, sky and mewling gulls. Everything was the same, as if no time had passed, although it seemed like hours had gone by. She turned to the smiling Mujar, who chewed a blade of grass.

  "What happened to me?"

  Chanter spat the grass out and sat up, looking serious. "I believe you were tested."

  "By whom?"

  "The gods."

  She snorted. "Why would they do that?"

  "Because I chose you."

  Talsy stared at him. "Was it real?"

  "I don't know."

  "Did I pass?"

  His smile returned, showing even white teeth. "If I had a mirror, I'd show you."

  "Show me what?"

  "The Mujar mark on your forehead."

  She rubbed her brow. "What does it look like?"

  "A circle with a cross through it."

  "What colour?"

  He laughed and lay back in the sand. "You've just passed the gods' test and changed the fate of the world, but you're worried about the colour of the mark on your forehead?"

  Talsy grinned and pounced on him, holding him down. "Tell me, or I won't let you up."

  "You're cruel. You don't deserve to be chosen."

  Dozens of questions itched in her mind, sparked by his comments, yet she would not be side-tracked, and thumped him. "Tell me!"

  "Blue, okay?"

  She leant on his chest. "Now tell me how I've changed the fate of the world."

  "No. First tell me what you learnt."

  She thought about the visions, if that was what they were. "Well, the Mujar in the Pits are trapped in sticky black stuff
."

  "Earth blood." He grimaced. "No wonder they can't get free."

  "What's earth blood?"

  "The sticky black stuff."

  She thumped him again. "Don't be funny."

  "No, you're right, it's not funny." He sobered. "Earth blood is found deep underground, in the Pits, obviously. It's the most powerful source of Dolana, like concentrated Earthpower. It burns, but it's foul stuff, and very dangerous for Mujar."

  "The Hashon Jahar control Dolana."

  "Really? That's interesting. Only Dolana?"

  "I think so. That's all I saw."

  He pondered. "Hmm. What else?"

  "Mujar won't help Truemen because they're not worthy."

  "Ah." He raised a finger. "That, I knew."

  "You didn't tell me when I asked you."

  "You weren't ready to know. It must be hard for you to accept, even now."

  Talsy sighed. "I've seen what Truemen have done. It's not only the way they treat Mujar, they treat everything badly. They have no respect for animals or plants and trees. They take and destroy, kill and enslave, giving nothing back."

  "They?" His brows rose.

  "I don't want to think of myself as a Trueman. Can't I be Mujar?"

  He laughed. "I'm afraid not, my little clan. But you have the mark of the Mujar, so the gods agree with me."

  "So, tell me more."

  "Well, it's a double-edged sword, as they all are." He paused, considering her. "The Mujar mark means you'll never be able to hunt and kill again, but it also means that beasts will no longer fear you. The souls, like the Kuran, will not harm you. They may even help you, if you ask nicely."

  "Why were you struck down and stuck to the sand?"

  He squirmed, looking away. "Well, that was sort of punishment, if you like. I guess they never expected it to happen, so when I marked you they were a little angry."

  "What did they do?"

  "Just gave me a good talking to, told me I was a naughty boy and sent me back to watch over you."

  Talsy grinned at his flippant tone. Although he had become friendlier in the time they had spent together, she had sensed his reticence in his guarded looks and the questions he would not answer. Now his demeanour was open and friendly, and gentle affection shone in his eyes.