The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God Page 16

  No saplings grew in this forest, and many of the old, twisted trees were long dead, grey and bleached. The stench of decay, mixed with mould and musty wood, hung in the still air. Chanter hurried on, and she panted as she tried to keep up, the atmosphere tainting her tongue with dust. A branch snapped off behind her, crashed to the ground and shattered into slivers of dead grey wood. She ran faster, her lungs burning.

  A glimmer of light shone between the trees ahead, and they burst into sunlight. Talsy stumbled and collapsed, unable to take another step. Sitting on the grass, she looked back as the forest sighed a rank breeze. Chanter stood beside her, staring at the wood with narrowed eyes. Deep within the forest, a tree fell with a tearing crash, and branches rattled as if a strong wind stirred them.

  “What was that all about?” she gasped.

  “The Kuran hates Truemen. She wanted to kill you.”

  “Why?”

  The Mujar gazed around. “Because of this.” He made a sweeping gesture.

  Talsy turned to look at a sloping field of stumps. Thousands of trees had once grown here. Their grey stumps extended far down the hillside to the edge of the cultivated land that surrounded a vast stone city sprawled along the coast. Miles of green fields dotted with stumps stretched away in either direction, the dark forest bordering them on one side and a golden beach on the other. Further up the coast, waves frothed against tall white cliffs and gulls rode the sea breeze, too far away for their cries to be heard. Herds of grazing beasts cropped the grass, moving amongst the stumps and an occasional bleached log.

  “The Kuran once had a vast forest,” Chanter explained. “It stretched all along the coast, from the mountains to the sea. Then Truemen came and cut it down to build ships and houses. They burnt the wood in their fires and furnaces and cleared the land for their beasts. Hatred consumes her now, and she’s killing her trees.”

  “But she has power. Why can’t she fight back?”

  “She has little power. All she commands are the trees. The deeper into the forest you go, the more powerful she is, but on the edges she can do little but rattle branches.”

  “So as long as Truemen cut down the trees on the edge of the forest, she can’t harm them.”

  “No. I doubt any Trueman ventures deep into that wood.”

  She rubbed her aching legs, then rose and sat on a stump. “Why did you say she might die? Surely she’s immortal if she’s an elemental or a wood spirit?”

  Chanter shook his head. “She’s neither. A Kuran is part of the wood, like a soul. They exist only in old forests, and are many thousands of years old. If the forest dies, she’ll die with it. Her hatred has driven away the birds that spread the seeds and the bees that pollinate the flowers. No young trees grow, and the old ones will die. Her lifespan has no limit, but she can be killed.”

  “What did she mean, ‘death stalks the land, and the city of men shall fall’?”

  “She was speaking of the Hashon Jahar.”

  “Was it a prophecy?”

  He shrugged. “Sort of. Come, let’s find somewhere to camp.”

  Picking up the bag, he set off down the sloping field, angling away from the city. Talsy followed, studying the sprawling coastal metropolis. It seemed that the forest’s wood had mostly been used to build ships, for the city was almost entirely stone. Tall buildings, the likes of which she had never seen before, rose above the thick wall that pinned the city to the sea. Square towers, their walls spotted with many narrow windows, stood proud but ugly, topped by grey slate roofs. Some buildings owned arched doorways, carved balconies and balustrades of white rock. One stood out from the rest by virtue of a domed roof that appeared to be made of pale green crystal. Certainly this was a mightier city than Horran, prosperous and well kept. Talsy longed to explore it, but respected Chanter’s aversion to it. She would rather stay close to him than go into the city, and she trotted to catch up with him.

  “Is that Rashkar?”

  He glanced back at her. “No, that’s Jishan. Rashkar is on the far side of the Narrow Sea.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Right in front of you.” He indicated the blue expanse. “On a clear day you can see the far side.”

  Talsy squinted across the sparkling water, but could make out nothing but haze in the distance. “How will we get across?”

  The Mujar entered a copse of tall trees and dumped the bag. A spring bubbled from lichen-covered rocks and trickled away along its mossy bed, a line of silver amid the green. Chanter selected a log and sat, smiling up at her.

  “I’ll swim or fly. You have a choice.”

  She knelt to unpack the bag. “What’s that?”

  “Either you can buy passage on a ship, or purchase a boat and I’ll tow you across.”

  Talsy considered these options while she started a fire and set a pot of water on it. Now that she owned a tinderbox, she no longer needed Chanter to light fires. She placed the remains of an antelope in the pot and added vegetables, then sat back. Either choice meant going into the city, which she did not like.

  “Are those the only two choices?”

  He shook his head. “I could carry you on my back, but you’d get wet. It wouldn’t be pleasant. Or I could build a raft, but that would also be uncomfortable and slow.”

  Talsy pondered. A ship would be by far the most comfortable method, but it would also mean she would be parted from Chanter for the voyage. She was not sure that she had enough money to buy a boat, even a small one, and a raft would take time to construct.

  “How long will it take to swim across?”

  His brows rose. “Odd choice. Quite a long time. A day and a night, at least.”

  “That’s too long for me. I’ll go into the city tomorrow and see if I have enough money to buy a boat; if not, I’ll go on a ship.”

  “Of course, there are other choices, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I still have to free this boy in Rashkar. It will be easier if no one knows I’m there.”

  Talsy stirred the stew, thinking about a Mujar’s powers. If he could part a mountain, he could certainly part the sea, or make a bridge of ice. The thought made her shiver. With a friend like him, nothing was impossible, but was he her friend? Was it only clan bond that kept him with her, and how strong was that? If the effort of looking after her became too great, would he abandon her without a qualm? What did he feel for her? Was a Mujar capable of feelings? He treated her with kindness and respect, but had not touched her except to give her warmth or comfort. He had protected her from the Kuran, but had yet to announce that her wish was fulfilled.

  Talsy still pondered this when she crawled into the tent to sleep, stretching out on the thin bedroll. Chanter joined her as he always did, to lie beside her and share his warmth before he disappeared into the night for his wild wanderings.

  Chapter Ten

  The following morning, she walked to the city, and Chanter accompanied her to the outskirts. When he decided that it was too dangerous to go closer, he leapt into the air and transformed into a gull with a rush of Ashmar. Talsy walked on, knowing he kept watch high above. By the time she trudged through the city gates, the fascination of the great metropolis held her in its spell. The walls loomed over her, daunting in their solid, meticulous construction from chiselled blocks that fitted together with almost seamless precision.

  At the gates, two bored guardsmen leant on their spears. Within the walls, tall buildings seemed to crowd over the paved streets. Statues watched her pass with blank stone stares and well-dressed citizens stepped aside with grave courtesy. The clean, wide streets crossed each other at exact angles and measured distances apart. Carts rattled along them, and fancy rigs drawn by high-stepping horses carried wealthy ladies in printed gowns. Shopkeepers displayed their wares under gay awnings and greeted passers-by with polite smiles. It all seemed ordered and peaceful to Talsy, civilisation at its height.

  Finding the docks was simply a matter of following her nose. The smell of fish and salt car
ried on the inshore breeze, and the straight wide roads led her to a fish market populated by fat fishwives and salty fishermen. A flotilla of boats crowded the dock, four or five deep along the wharf. Ocean-going ships rubbed against fishing boats of all shapes and sizes. The bustle of loading and off-loading kept a constant stream of activity through the market. Brothels and warehouses bordered the docks, and fishing nets lay in great piles or were stretched between the gangs of men and women repairing them. The atmosphere was industrious, and people laughed and talked as they worked, while children played at their feet.

  Stopping beside a grey-bearded man relaxing on a bollard smoking a pipe, Talsy enquired after a dingy for sale. He directed her to a vast, red-faced man repairing a net, who set a price well beyond her purse and assured her that she would not a get a boat for less. Despondent, she asked about buying passage on a ship, and he directed her to a handsome, lean-faced man in a smart olive coat, cream shirt, soft brown boots, fawn trousers and a peaked cap. He agreed to take her across for a mere two silver coins, which seemed reasonable, but she disliked the way his grey eyes raked her. His ship sailed that afternoon, which meant she would have no chance to leave the city and meet Chanter. Wandering to a deserted end of the docks, she leant against a sea wall. She scanned the wheeling gulls, wondering which one was the Mujar, and how she could get him to come down.

  A rustle of wings beside her made her start. A gull had landed not two feet from her, and regarded her with silver-blue eyes as he shuffled his wings into place. Talsy smiled.

  “I have passage on a ship,” she told him. “It sails this afternoon.”

  The gull stretched his neck and looked around.

  “I don’t know its name,” she answered the silent question. “But you’ll see me board it.”

  The gull puffed out his feathers and shook himself. Glad of his presence, she sat on the wall beside him and watched the wharf’s bustle and the ships sailing in and out of the harbour. At noon, her stomach growled, and she left the Mujar to purchase lunch at a nearby tavern. Returning to the sea wall, she brought a slice of bread, which she tore into little bits and fed to the gull. He took them from her fingers, and she longed to stroke his smooth soft feathers, but doubted that he would appreciate it.

  “That’s a very tame bird.” A voice behind her made her turn as Chanter took wing.

  The grey-eyed sea captain sauntered up, smiling. He glanced up at the wheeling birds. “They’re good eating, you know.”

  Talsy swallowed the hot words that leapt onto her tongue at his callous observation. “Are we leaving now?”

  He nodded. “They’ve almost finished loading the cargo.”

  Once again, his eyes raked her, making her skin crawl, and she was glad when he turned away. She followed him to a gangplank that spanned the gap to a modest, well-built schooner. He helped her aboard in a gentlemanly fashion, but she shuddered at his touch. Bales were stacked on the deck, and the ship sat low in the water. The captain led her to a hatchway, where Talsy hesitated, unwilling to follow him into the ship’s bowels.

  “I’d like to stay on deck,” she said.

  “For two days?”

  She hid her dismay with a bland smile. Chanter had said a day and a night, but evidently it took longer on a ship.

  Talsy followed the captain down a steep stairway, her uneasiness growing. He took her to a cabin in the stern with a narrow bunk on one side and a desk and chair on the other. At the back was a diamond-paned window made from poor-quality glass. When she entered and put down her bag, he smiled with a smug air.

  “This is my cabin,” he said, “but it’s yours for the trip.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “I’ll bunk with the men. It’s only two nights.”

  Talsy frowned. “I thought you said two days.”

  “Yes, two days and two nights. We dock early in the morning of the third day. That’s depending on the weather, of course.”

  She fingered the hilt of her hunting knife, drawing his eyes to it. “It’s very kind of you to give me your cabin, Captain.”

  He raised cold eyes to hers. “Think nothing of it.”

  After he left, she sank down on the bunk with a sigh. For all that he was handsome, the captain made her nervous. Half an hour later, the sounds from above told her that they were setting sail, and soon the ship rolled on ocean waves. Afraid that Chanter might have missed her boarding the ship, she went on deck. The bustle of undocking had calmed, and a brisk offshore wind had sprung up. Sailors coiled ropes or sat smoking and talking in groups. The wind freshened, filled the sails to capacity and drove the ship along at a good rate. Talsy knew who was responsible for it and looked up for her gull. Many wheeled above, making it impossible to pick out one with blue eyes.

  The captain joined her at the railing. “Nice wind. We should make good time if this keeps up.”

  “Let’s hope it does.”

  “Yes.” He eyed her. “It’s odd to get an offshore wind at this time of year.”

  “Lucky for us,” she replied.

  The captain scowled, then turned to shout orders at some malingering men before walking off. Talsy relaxed and watched the sparkling sea foaming along the ship’s flanks. The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, and at dusk she retreated to her cabin, where a boy brought her a hot fish stew for dinner. The cabin door had a latch, and she locked it after the boy left.

  An hour or so later, just as she was about to climb onto the bunk, a knock came on the door.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “It’s the captain.” The door rattled.

  “What do you want?”

  “I have some wine. I thought we could have a drink together.”

  “Thank you,” she called, “but I’m too tired.”

  Talsy held her breath as a long silence fell, then the door flew open with a crash. The captain sauntered in, a bottle of wine in hand, wearing a thunderous scowl.

  “I don’t like to be turned down, missy,” he growled. “Two coins don’t buy the captain’s cabin, you know.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have given it to me,” she retorted. “I’ll sleep on deck.” Picking up her bag, she went to pass him.

  He stepped into her path. “Not so fast, girl. You just have to be a little friendly, and you can stay here.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Surely you know how these things work? A girl travelling alone should have learnt the rules of the road. I know you’re not from Jishan, so you’re wise to it, aren’t you?”

  “No.” She put the bag down. “I learnt how to make my own rules.” She drew the big knife from her belt.

  The captain eyed it with a smile. “A big knife, but you’re just a little girl.”

  Talsy raised the weapon. “I know how to use it.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back. “You’re going to regret this, girl. I expect more payment than a mere two coins for this passage.”

  “Too bad; that’s all you asked for. Get out.”

  The captain hesitated, measured her with his eyes and probably wondered if he could take the knife away without getting injured. Evidently he decided the risk was too great, for he spun on his heel and left, slamming the door. Talsy sagged onto the bunk. When her heart had stopped pounding, she dragged the chair across the room to jam under the door handle.

  Chanter drifted high above a black sea silvered by a glittering moon path that led to the rising orb. Below him, the dark ship ploughed through restless waves, its foaming bow wave aglow with phosphorescence, leaving a shimmering trail that the ocean tossed. A short while ago, he had perched atop the swaying mast to listen to the ship’s faint Dolana. It carried no warning of danger to the girl, freeing him to spread his wings and let the wind lift him into the air. The ocean’s dark depths beckoned with gentle liquid swells and the promise of mystery and excitement.

  Folding his wings, he dived through the cold wind and into Shissar’s welcoming embrace. As he slipped beneath
the waves, he invoked the Power and exchanged his feathered, long-winged form for a sleek grey shape powered by sweeping flukes. With a flick of his tail, he slid through the water that enfolded him in a soft clasp. Shissar was the friendliest of the Powers, the tender healer and wellspring of life. Like returning to the pod that had birthed him, the touch of water sent thrills of delight through him.

  With swift vertical strokes of his flukes, he glided through the sea, tasting the currents that flowed beneath the waves. Amid the layers of cold and warm, sweet and salty, he revelled in the ocean’s mighty bounty of sensations. The black depths stretched away in every direction save up, where the moon’s glimmer shone through the wave patterns. A flash of silver below revealed a solitary hunting fish, eyes agleam as it searched for prey.

  Chanter dived deeper with a gentle lashing of his tail, and soon inky blackness surrounded him. The water sliding over his skin and the warm and cold currents gave sensation in this dark world. Passing swells rocked him as they marched across the sea, and the currents that ran through it on their way to distant shores tugged at him. Within the freezing black depths, he sensed the ocean floor and levelled off, letting the sea take him where it would.

  Below him, myriad tiny creatures sent signals of light into the darkness, flashing dances of sparkles that pulsed and shimmered, spiralled and glimmered, filling the blackness with their little beacons. Fish carried biotic lanterns to light their way, denizens of the darkness that had never seen any light but their own. Hunters waved flashing lamps to attract the unwary, luring them to certain death in sucking mouths. Within these watery depths, a strange song of pops and crackles, buzzes and rattles mixed with the faint ballad of a distant pod of whales rejoicing in their freedom and the birth of a calf.

  Chanter flicked his flukes and started upward, leaving behind the secret dark world. His lean, muscled form arrowed through the water, whose gentle caress became a strong stroking as it parted before him and slid along his length. Moonlight sent shafts of silver downwards, then he leapt into an empty world of light and swift, cold wind. He blew out mist and inhaled before plunging back into the waves, lighting them with a green glow of phosphorescence amid the white spume. Back in the buoyant environment for which his form was designed, he powered through the waves, leaping from one swell to the next.