Children of Another God tbw-1 Page 13

  "It's about time you did something." He failed to control the tremor in his voice.

  Chanter watched the Hashon Jahar, who poured across the ploughed fields, eerily silent but for the thunder of hooves. Talsy could make out individual riders now, clad in black armour, astride huge steeds, armoured like their riders. Why did they need armour? She glanced at Cusak, whose lips where white as he stared at the approaching army. Behind her, Tranton's wheeze grew louder.

  The Black Riders rode four abreast, and the four behind the leaders swerved out to ride beside them, then the next four moved to the other side. They spread out with finely tuned precision, slowing to allow the ones behind to move to the sides, forming a long line. The horses tossed their heads and pranced, manes flying in the wind. Their pace slowed further as those at the back of the column raced to take up their positions at the ends of the line. Talsy could not count them. There seemed to be thousands, and more still emerged from the forest.

  They stopped, and some of the horses reared, fighting their bits. The thunder faded to a muted rumble as only the hooves of those who still raced to join the line broke the stillness. The line stretched for miles, and the last Riders formed up behind the first until they stood in rows four deep. As they halted, a deathly silence fell, so intense that it beat at Talsy's ears. A crow’s harsh, ominous caw broke it. She looked at the governor, noting the film of sweat on his upper lip. The Hashon Jahar's mounts settled, becoming still. Thousands of lances lowered in unison, as if a silent signal had been sent. The destriers leapt into a gallop, the thunder loud after the prior stillness.

  Chanter straightened, frowning, and she braced herself. The manifestation of Crayash filled the air with illusory fire. Heat scorched her skin and flames blinded her. It seemed as if Hell had engulfed her in its fiery horror, and she closed her eyes, holding her breath. The manifestation vanished, leaving the governor and his party yelling and beating at their clothes. Tranton alone remained calm, and he tried to soothe the irate and embarrassed Cusak.

  Despite her wish to witness their humiliation, Talsy's attention was riveted to what was happening beyond the city walls. Chanter raised an arm and pointed towards the river bank on the left. Blue fire erupted from the earth with roar, rising more than twenty feet high. He moved his arm around in an arc, and the fire followed. A wall of flame shot up where he pointed, drawing a ring around the city some fifty feet from the wall. He turned, the fire following, until his finger pointed at the river bank to the right of the city, completing the barrier.

  The Hashon Jahar slowed, their mounts rearing and plunging as they were forced to halt mere yards from the flames. The Riders raised their lances in unison, set them upright in their stirrups and became still. It seemed as if an army of statues faced the city, and Cusak stared at them with a triumphant, feral grin.

  "We did it!" he cried. "We stopped the Hashon Jahar!"

  Talsy frowned at him, but Chanter smiled as if privy to some secret joke. Lookouts shouted the news from their vantages all along the city wall, and a great cheer went up from the streets below. It spread into the city, swelling into a clamour as people danced and clapped in wild celebration. Cusak pounded Jashon on the back as if it was all his doing. Jashon reddened and smiled, ducking his head in a parody of humble acceptance. Talsy turned away from their orgy of self-congratulation with a snort and leant against the railing beside Chanter. He gazed at the Riders, his expression unreadable. She slipped her hand into his, and he cast her a smile, his eyes gentle.

  Below them, the crowd danced, and pipes and drums played merry tunes. A queue formed to mount the steps onto the battlements and stare at the fiery barrier that guarded the city. Beyond it, the Hashon Jahar waited. Talsy studied Chanter, expecting to find some sign of strain from the effort of holding the fire with his will, but he appeared relaxed, as if this great miracle cost him nothing at all. The governor clumped down the stairs with his bevy of followers, and cheering from below told her that he had left the tower to bask in the crowd's accolades. Talsy was glad to be left alone with Chanter again, and gazed at the leaping flames.

  "How do you do it?"

  Chanter glanced at her. "The Crayash?" He shrugged. "Willpower."

  "Willpower?" She shook her head. "It can't be that simple."

  "It is." He smiled and gestured at the fire wall. "Every element of this world is a part of me, as they're a part of everything, though some more than others. Just as the Crayash within me warms me and is part of me, so the fire in the world around me is also part of me."

  "You mean you control the world as though it was part of you?"

  "It is a part of me. Every particle of this world has a twin within me, formed at the same time. When the stars came together and started to burn, this world was formed from dust and gas. I'm made of that same dust and gas, so controlling the rest of it is just an act of will."

  "I'm also made of the same elements," she said, "yet I can't control any of it, not even my body, beyond a certain point."

  "Because you've lost the ability to command the world. Your people came to rely on your hands and brains, and gave up the power over the elements."

  Talsy frowned. "Could we ever get it back?"

  "No. It's lost to you forever because you don't understand it anymore, and it can't be taught."

  "Well, unlike those envious bastards who tortured you, I respect your abilities."

  Chanter sighed and leant on the railing. "They're ignorant. It's not their fault. They've strayed far from their world and the protection and guidance of their god. You, perhaps, have accepted this world better than they."

  Talsy studied the Hashon Jahar, who remained immobile in their orderly ranks, as if they would stay like that forever. Their armour glinted in the flames' blue light, and the heat shimmer distorted their forms so she could not make out their faces.

  She looked at Chanter. "How long do you think they'll wait?"

  He shrugged. "Who knows?"

  "Couldn't you… frighten them away?"

  "I granted protection, nothing more."

  Talsy nodded. "But you could do more, couldn't you? You could make the earth swallow them, for instance. After all, if they can't die, you wouldn't be killing."

  "Could you throw a Mujar into a Pit?"

  "No! Of course not!"

  Chanter smiled. "Yet he wouldn't die. So I can't make the earth swallow them. There's no need."

  "But Mujar are good, harmless people. These are murderers, destroyers."

  He shook his head. "That's not for us to judge. We're not gods."

  "I would say it was pretty self-evident. You don't need to be a god to know what they've done."

  "But you don't know why they did it."

  She frowned. "You know why they do it, don't you? You know what they are, too, so why won't you tell me?"

  "I can't." He turned away. "Maybe someday I'll be able to, but not now."

  A scowling servant served them lunch, and they spent the rest of the day resting as music and laughter wafted up from the streets below. Talsy took advantage of their inactivity and seclusion to ask Chanter about Mujar, but, while he would not impart any further information on that subject, he did speak freely about his life with the hill clan. She found his reticence frustrating, but told herself that he must have his reasons. That, plus the ease with which he was able to save the city, gave her a little insight into the reasons why Truemen hated Mujar. It did seem cruel and unfair to deny aid that was so easily given, but again she rebuked herself. He must have at least one excellent reason, and she was determined to discover what it was. Until then, she decided, she would not judge him.

  When dusk fell, the city quieted as weary revellers retired, safe within the hated Mujar's protection. After dark, the sheet of flame lighted the countryside with leaping blue radiance. A low bank of cloud reflected it, and glinting armour moved in the darkness beyond. The light threw deep shadows into the streets, outshining the few dim lamps. The fiery wall was like a scene from
Hell. It drowned out the moonlight and made the world seem darker.

  Chanter lay with her until she fell asleep, but she woke later, cold and alone. He stood by the railing, staring at the fire wall.

  Talsy rose and joined him. "What's wrong?"

  "The Hashon Jahar tried to cross the river beyond the barrier."

  Talsy followed his gaze. The fire crossed the river upstream, extending the wall to the far bank. It roared from the water, sending up clouds of steam. The Black Riders milled on the bank, their steeds plunging and wheeling away from the flames. Talsy glanced at the Mujar, who watched them with narrowed eyes that glowed in the flames' light.

  "What if they try to swim under the fire?" she asked.

  "They won't. The barrier extends below the surface."

  "Fire under the water?"

  He smiled. "No, ice."

  "But how can the river flow?"

  "It's not a solid wall. The water can pass through it, but not men."

  She gazed at the Black Riders. "If they can't die, why don't they just walk through the fire?"

  "They can be harmed, and they would be so badly burnt that they would not be able to fight once they got through it. And if they did get through, I would raise a wall of ice within the circle. Then, if they had the strength to smash their way through several feet of ice and tried, I would thicken the wall. If they somehow got through the ice, I would raise a wall of rock. They can't win, and they know it. No one can defy the will of a Mujar except another, and if two of us had to fight, which we never would, we would tear the world apart."

  Talsy nodded, reassured. "So they thought they could sneak past while you were asleep?"

  "It seems so, but Mujar don't need to sleep. They know that, but if they thought me inattentive, they were wrong."

  They waited until the Hashon Jahar returned to the fields, where they settled once more. Chanter lay with her until morning, when the servant brought them breakfast. Beyond the fire wall, the Riders had dismounted and stood or sat in groups, their steeds lying on the ploughed ground. Evidently they had settled down for a long wait, but showed no signs of setting up camp, and their horses carried only saddles and armour. They remained mostly motionless and utterly silent, as if dozing. Talsy squinted at them through the fire wall's heat shimmer, but they were too distant and distorted to see clearly.

  Talsy spent the morning alone with Chanter, but at lunchtime Tranton came to ask why the fire wall now crossed the river. Talsy told him, and he left to inform the governor. In the city below, life seemed to have returned to normal, apart from the queues of people still climbing the wall to gaze at the fire wall. The bridges groaned under the crowds that came to see the fire that crossed the river, often hidden behind clouds of billowing steam. The day passed uneventfully, as did the night.

  In the afternoon of the second day, Talsy decided to go down into the city to buy the supplies they would need to continue their journey, replacing what she had lost. A guard accompanied her, walking behind with a spear at the ready. The people's hostility amazed her, for their hatred seemed to have grown. Many spat at her and shouted insults, their faces twisted with hate. The guardsman was forced to shake his spear many times to keep them at bay. Talsy's anger grew at their ingratitude, and she longed to shout back that they owed their lives to a Mujar, and should be grateful. She knew it would be futile, however, and her shopping was fraught with problems. Many shopkeepers refused to serve her until the soldier made them, and others closed their shops when they saw her coming.

  At the armourer, a stony-eyed man glared at her. She asked for a good hunting knife, and he produced a poor rusty thing. A passer-by paused to spit on the street beside her.

  "Mujar whore!"

  The guard raised his spear, and the man walked off.

  Talsy turned back to the armourer. "I want a good knife, not a piece of rubbish. I have silver."

  The blacksmith shrugged. "We're all out."

  Boxes of knives glinted behind a bead curtain, and she restrained her anger with an effort. "Then I'd like to order one made."

  "We're too busy. We have to make swords to fight the Black Riders when the yellow filth leaves."

  "Be glad that the yellow filth is even buying you the time to make them," she snarled.

  The armourer turned away. "I don't have to listen to you, Mujar slut. Go back to your scum lover."

  Talsy wanted to leap over the counter and throttle him. As she was about to turn away, another man appeared through the curtains. He had a well-trimmed grey beard; his face burnt deep brown from years working near a furnace. He raised an enquiring brow at the younger man.

  "What's going on, Ranar?"

  "It's the Mujar bitch from the tower."

  "Ah." The older man looked at Talsy with twinkling grey eyes. "How can we help you?"

  "Father!" Ranar protested.

  His father held up a hand. "Business is business, son."

  "I want a good hunting knife," Talsy repeated.

  "Certainly." The old man disappeared through the curtains and returned with a shiny, skilfully made hunting knife. He gave it to Talsy, who studied it with delight.

  "This is beautiful."

  "We take pride in our work."

  "How much?"

  The old man glanced around. His son had vanished into the furnace room and the guard had his back to them, watching the crowd. He leant closer. "Is he watching?"

  "Who? Oh, yes, probably." She had no idea if Chanter was watching, and doubted it, since she was far from the tower, but saw no harm in making him seem more powerful than he was. The man's suggestion made her wonder if Mujar could see around corners and through buildings. She resolved to ask him when she got back to the tower.

  The armourer said, "Good. It's yours, miss. I'll take no silver for it. I want him to know that at least one person in this blighted city has some gratitude."

  Her spirits lifted, and she smiled. "I'm glad."

  He nodded. "He won't care, I know. Mujar live by their own rules, but I think he deserves our gratitude anyway."

  "Thank you."

  The armourer smiled as she tucked the knife into her belt and headed back to the tower. The old man's kindness filled her with a happy glow that sustained her all the way back, buffering her against the insults of the rest of the populace.

  Talsy emerged through the trap door and stopped in surprise, her mouth dropping open. Chanter lay on his back on the pallet, smiling, his hands raised to guide the tiny flames that danced around them. With slow finger movements, he caused the flames to leap and swirl, spin away in little balls of fire and return as sparks. He weaved a pattern in the air, and it joined the fiery ballet. He drew a burning face, and Talsy recognised herself.

  "Like it?" he asked.

  She smiled. "Playing with fire?"

  The Mujar chuckled. "I can."

  "You can't get burnt?"

  Chanter dispersed the fire with a wave and sat up. "Of course not."

  She dumped the bag and joined him on the pallet. "Then how can anything harm you?"

  "Only Dolana can. I told you it's an unfriendly Power. Anything made of the earth, like metal, wood or glass can harm me. Fire, water and air cannot."

  "You mean, you could walk through that wall of flame out there unscathed?"

  "Naturally. It's one of my elements."

  She shook her head in confusion. "But they all are. You're made of earth, so how can it harm you when the others can't?"

  "Wrong. We're mostly water, not earth. That's why Shissar has the power to heal."

  "Yet Dolana rules the creatures of the earth."

  "Yes, because we live on the earth. It feeds and clothes us. We are made from it also, just as birds are, yet Ashmar rules them. Almost every living thing contains the four elements, although plants don't have Crayash, and nor do some animals."

  She sighed. "I doubt I'll ever fully understand it."

  "You don't need to. Did you get all the supplies?"

  Talsy
pulled a face. "With some difficulty. Were you watching?"

  "Watching? How could I? You disappeared amongst the buildings."

  "So you can't see through things."

  "No." He grinned. "Did you think I could?"

  "The armourer did."

  "Ah. Trueman superstitions. They also think we can read their minds and give them nightmares."

  She took out the knife and showed it to him. "The armourer gave me this. He said he was grateful for your help."

  "Ah." The Mujar seemed unimpressed.

  "At least there's one good person in this city."

  He shrugged. "Good, bad. Who's to judge? Most are simply confused."

  Talsy rose to gaze at the fire wall and the Black Riders beyond it. Dusk sent dark fingers across the land as the sinking sun cast shadows from distant mountains. Tomorrow was the last day of Chanter's protection, and the Hashon Jahar showed no signs of moving on. There would be trouble when the time came to remove the fire, if the Black Riders were still there. She wondered what Jashon and Cusak would do to try to prevent the fire wall from falling. Nothing would stop it, she was sure, but she feared that Chanter might fall prey to these hateful men again. His suffering at their hands would be brief, for the Hashon Jahar would soon overrun the city, but they were not friends of Mujar either.

  Talsy turned to find Chanter playing with fire again, smiling with childlike delight. She approached him. "Why was there no manifestation of fire to make those flames?"

  He glanced up at her. "Because I already control fire."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When I relinquish control, the fire wall will fall. Until then, I have no need to summon it."

  Talsy watched with deep fascination as he played with the fire, a pastime he gave up when the servant arrived with their supper. She marvelled at the simplicity of a man who found food more interesting than the amazing powers he wielded. Then again, he had always had them, so their novelty had undoubtedly worn off long ago. She wondered why he refused to answer some of her questions, while other things he explained without hesitation. Certain subjects, it appeared, were taboo. He was far more reticent and withdrawn in the company of other Truemen, losing the easy-going camaraderie he shared with her when they were alone. She did not blame him for being shy of these people, whose hatred shone in their eyes.