Children of Another God tbw-1 Read online

  "But I wasn't here," she pointed out.

  "Of course you were. Only your spirit left."

  "Oh. You mean I was unconscious?"

  "Sort of." He chuckled. "You did a lot of moaning and muttering."

  She pulled a face. "How have I changed the fate of the world, and what does it mean to be chosen?"

  "Ah." He poked her in the ribs. "I'll tell you when you get off me."

  She obliged, and he sat up with a sigh of relief. "That was getting uncomfortable." He brushed the sand from his hair, and she prodded him.

  "Talk."

  "Okay, okay. You've been chosen as worthy, which means you're not like the rest of your race. You're not selfish, cruel or greedy. That changes the fate of the world, because now all who are good, though they may not be as worthy as you, must be saved. It's one of the laws of retribution."

  Talsy considered. "From the Hashon Jahar?"

  "Yes."

  "What are they?"

  "I only know what I already told you."

  She sighed. "So what did the tests mean?"

  He plucked another blade of grass from the sparse growth on the dunes. "First you'll have to tell me what happened."

  She recounted each test in detail, and he pondered them when she had finished.

  "The first," he explained, "was of loyalty. They wanted to know whether you would help all Mujar, or just me. The second was of objectivity, to see if you would condemn your own people for their sins. You could have saved them all."

  "But they didn't deserve it. What about the third?"

  "That's a tricky one. I think they wanted to see how well you understood the situation, why your race is being destroyed. They wanted to hear you argue against your own kind."

  "I see. So what happens now?"

  He shrugged. "Beats me, I'm not a god. When I find out, I'll tell you."

  "How will you find out?"

  "They'll tell me."

  "The gods?"

  He nodded.

  She said, "There's still so much I don't understand. I wish I knew all of it."

  "So do I."

  Talsy rose to her feet, brushing sand from her trousers. "I'm hungry."

  Back at the cave, Talsy put some vegetables and shellfish in a pot and placed it on the fire. While the stew bubbled, she pondered what he had told her and the possible ramifications of her new status.

  She indicated the mark on her forehead. "Does this give me any powers?"

  He laughed and shook his head, then his mirth died. "Well, in a way it does. It protects you, first of all, though not from Truemen, of course. But you can ask souls for help, which means that, in a way, you control what they do. The trees, the sea, the earth, fire and the wind. But then, you won't need to do that unless something happens to me."

  "Like if you decide to break clan bond," she suggested, surprised when he raised his head to stare at her.

  "The clan bond between us is broken. It was the moment I marked you. What we have now can never be broken."

  "How can that be?" She frowned. "That means you've lost your freedom."

  He smiled and shook his head. "No, it means you've gained yours."

  "Explain."

  "You're Mujar marked. You don't need protection from animals or souls, so you don't need me."

  She stared at him, horrified. "You're going to leave?"

  "No." He hesitated. "Not now. Not completely. I may leave if I wish, but I'll always return."

  Talsy sagged with relief, his words bringing a warm rush of joy that banished her lingering doubts. His declaration filled the aching void that had always existed within her, a longing for love and security that her father's possessive affection had never completely filled. She blinked away the warm sting of tears.

  Chanter stirred the pot. "One day you may want me to go, and then I shall."

  "Never!" she said. "Why would I?"

  "You belong with your people, and one day you'll meet a man with whom you wish to stay. I doubt he'll want me around."

  "I want to stay with you."

  He shook his head, gazing into the pot. "I'm Mujar. I can never give you what you want."

  "You don't know what I want."

  "I do. Love. Marriage. A family."

  "No. I'd rather have you."

  He smiled. "You're still young. Your feelings will change, and I can't give you what you'll want then."

  "You're not Trueman, and you don't understand us as well as you think you do."

  "Don't I?" He looked away. "Time will tell."

  Chapter Fourteen

  For the next three weeks, they lived a simple, peaceful existence Talsy would have happily continued. The day after Chanter marked her, she discovered the difference it made. The strange, beautiful creatures no longer fled her approach, but treated her with the same fearlessness they accorded Chanter. Delighted, Talsy stroked their velvet skins and the strange leaf-like fronds that grew on them like feathers. Up close, she discovered they had a delicious smell that made her mouth water. Chanter came to stand beside her, plucked a frond from the creature she was stroking and ate it.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded, surprised when the beast merely glanced at Chanter.

  He plucked another frond and held it out. "Try it."

  She took it with an uncertain frown. "Doesn't it hurt them?"

  "No."

  Talsy nibbled the frond, which tasted as delicious as it smelt. Chanter smiled and plucked another for her, eating one himself.

  "What are they?" she asked.

  "Creatures of this world. The ones that were here before Truemen came."

  "Where have they been?"

  He shrugged. "Around. Living where there are no Truemen." He plucked another frond. "This one is a food beast. It lives on the earth, like a tree. You see that its legs are in the soil?"

  She nodded. It was one of the stilt-legged species that pushed its legs into the ground and stood there all day.

  Chanter explained, "It takes goodness from the earth, like a plant." He pointed at a beast that basked in the sun. "That one lives on the light, also like trees, and eats soil." He indicated a long, multi-coloured beast with a snake-like head. "That one is a predator. It eats the food beasts' fronds."

  "It doesn't kill them?"

  "No beast of this world kills other creatures."

  "Except the Hashon Jahar," she said.

  "Yes."

  "But surely, without predators to control their numbers, there would be too many of them?"

  "No, because they breed slowly."

  The creature they ate hooted, and Chanter went over to another to continue the feast. Talsy gazed around at the peaceful vista, entranced. Food beasts absorbed goodness from the soil or sun, while predators wandered amongst them, plucking fronds. This was, she realised, a world without killing, bloodshed and pain. A perfect world. The frond she ate tasted like a sweet fruit. Different types of food beasts had different flavours, she discovered, and their fronds were bloodless.

  "They're not really animals, are they?" she asked. "They're plants."

  "In as much as they're not entirely flesh and blood, yes, they're partly plants. But they have brains and feelings; they mate and give birth in a similar way to your animals."

  She frowned. "What do you mean, my animals?"

  "Trueman animals. Horses, dogs, wolves."

  "Did we bring them with us?"

  "In a manner of speaking. The gods created them from the memories of the men who came in the silver bird that fell from the sky."

  She stared at him in amazement.

  After that, the food beasts provided all the nourishment they needed, and Talsy thrived on the new diet, regaining the weight she had lost. The balmy days were the happiest she had ever known. She frolicked on the beach with Chanter, played with the gentle sea creatures and, through Chanter, spoke to the sherlon. He taught her something of what it was to be Mujar, at one with this colourful world so rich with joy and laughter. She discovered the w
onder of being truly free, not only from the constraints of Trueman society, but the stigma of being Trueman and feared by the wild beasts.

  The only flaw in her utopia was that Chanter vanished into the sea every night. The first time she woke alone, she lay awake until he returned, wet and wild from the ocean. She realised, however, that she could never hope to tame a creature as wild as Chanter, and resigned herself to his absence when the call of the wild lured him away. She did not want to tame him, though. One of his best aspects was his wildness, which made him impossible to control, but gave him his strange allure.

  Three weeks later, Chanter decided that they should move on. The Wish he had granted Mishak remained unfulfilled, and he still had to find Arrin, if he lived. He was certain that the boy would have headed up the coast to the next town, where he could earn the fare to cross the Narrow Sea. He knew that the chances of finding Arrin were slim, and Mishak might have succumbed to the Hashon Jahar too by now, yet he had to try.

  Talsy packed her bag and mounted the black stallion, which carried her up the coastal road at an untiring canter. Within a few days, they passed two ruined towns, and at each one Chanter tested the wind and the earth for signs of Arrin. Deciding that Arrin would have continued up the coast if he did not cross the sea, they continued onwards.

  Over the next two weeks, they encountered many scenes of death and destruction. The colourful creatures abounded, rooted amongst the debris of Truemen's downfall. Scavengers had already picked the ruins clean, leaving only bleached bones and fallen stones. In the months since Rashkar's fall, it seemed that the Hashon Jahar had wiped out almost all of the Truemen cities. Occasionally, they came across fields of skeletons, the remains of those who had fled the cities or armies sent to fight the Black Riders. On one of these fields, Chanter stopped beside a pile of bones and sighed. Talsy came to stand beside him.

  "Arrin?"

  He nodded. "Mishak's Wish has failed. He will never see his son again."

  "If what we've seen is anything to go by, Mishak's dead, too."

  "Probably. There are few left, though."

  "Where are they?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know."

  Talsy walked away. "So what do we do now?"

  Chanter followed, carrying the bag. "We must head west, I believe."

  "Why?"

  "Just a feeling I have."

  Talsy glanced at him. "Can't we return to the cave?"

  "No. We'll travel west."

  The stallion continued to carry Talsy along deserted roads and through devastated cities, towns and villages. Flattened tracts of ground and stream banks marked the Black Riders’ passage. The trampling of thousands of hooves had churned the grass to mud in broad swathes and created new roads that cut through forest and field. As Talsy and Chanter travelled westwards, the ruins became fresher. Scavengers still frequented some, which gave off the stench of death. The rainbow-hued creatures vanished, and they were forced to return to a diet of vegetables gleaned from the abandoned fields of sacked towns. Deer, sheep and cattle abounded, but Talsy found that she could no longer hunt them; the thought of killing sickened her. She threw away her hunting bow, keeping the knife only as a tool for digging and cleaning the vegetables they ate.

  Three weeks of travel brought them to a rocky coastline and a ruined city. The town had been destroyed no more than a few days before, and flocks of vultures and crows wheeled over it. Chanter avoided it, and they travelled further up the coast before making camp. Talsy built a fire and put up her tent while the Mujar visited the abandoned fields to procure their supper. When he returned, she put the vegetables on to cook and settled on a rock beside him. Noticing smoke rising a few miles away, she pointed it out to him. He considered it.

  "Could be another destroyed settlement."

  "Maybe," she agreed. "But perhaps there are people there."

  The Mujar glanced at her. "You long for your own kind?"

  "Not really, but if there are people there, how did they escape the Black Riders?"

  "Then we'll go and see, tomorrow."

  The following morning, they set off up the coast, and within a few hours came across a huddle of tents and hastily erected shacks in a clearing by the beach. Talsy grew excited at the prospect of meeting people again, and especially finding out why they had been spared. Chanter stopped before they reached the settlement, and she slid from his back with the bag. He reverted to man form and, after studying the Trueman settlement, turned to her.

  "Go and speak to them if you wish. I'll remain here unless you need me."

  Talsy nodded, understanding his reluctance to enter the camp. Leaving the bag with him, she followed a narrow path that wandered through the rocks. People worked amongst the tents and shacks, cleaning skins, salting fish, cooking, washing or mending clothes. They stopped work to watch her pass, some greeting her with smiles and cheerfulness, belying the gloom and death that hung over the land. Most were young women, with a smattering of elderly crones and young boys. The few mature men seemed to be honest farmers or tradesmen. She wandered around until a friendly freckle-faced girl of about fifteen offered her a meal and took her to a crone cooking a pot of stew. The meaty aroma made Talsy's mouth water, and she accepted a bowl from the old woman and settled down on a wooden stool to consume it.

  The matron smiled. "Hungry, are you, missy?"

  Talsy nodded, her mouth full.

  "I'm surprised you look as fit as you do, wandering alone in the wilderness. What happened? Was your party attacked by brigands?"

  "No." Talsy frowned. "I had no party."

  "You look too young to be a seer. Who warned you?"

  "Warned me of what?"

  The crone's smile dwindled, and her eyes grew wary. "You are one of the chosen, aren't you?"

  Talsy almost touched the Mujar mark on her forehead. "Yes, I'm one of the chosen. How did your people escape the Black Riders?"

  The old woman's smile broadened in relief. "We're all chosen here. I was the seer of my village, and I received the vision that told us to leave. Only good people who don't judge would be saved, I was told." Her smile vanished and she frowned. "I had to leave my son behind. The vision warned that if there was one amongst us who judged and hated, the Hashon Jahar would hunt him down and slay him."

  Talsy, who had stopped eating to listen in rapt fascination, put her spoon down. "You mean, all of you are… You don't hate Mujar?"

  "That's right. We're the chosen. There are five seers here, besides myself. Each had the same dream and brought their people out of the doomed villages. None of us hate Mujar."

  "That's wonderful!" Talsy grinned. "Then you're all saved! You're the worthy!"

  "I'm Sheera, and I'm proud to be amongst the chosen," the old woman went on. "I knew a Mujar when I was young, and I saw him dragged away and flung into a Pit. You'll find that almost everyone here has either known a Mujar or is the child of one who has. We know they're good, simple people, and we have nothing against them. Only the proud and ignorant condemned them, and now they've paid the price. It's a terrible thing, of course. My son was a foolish boy, he wouldn't listen to me when I told him about Mujar."

  Sheera turned at a groan from the shack behind her and excused herself to rise and enter it. Talsy ate the stew without tasting it. Just as Chanter had said, the fate of the world had indeed changed. She gazed around the camp. Over a hundred people lived here, all touched by the peace and humility of Mujar, destined to continue the Trueman race. Surely there were more in other settlements like this all over the land. Flocks of sheep and goats, as well as a herd of cattle, grazed in the grassland around the camp. Soon it would become a village, keeping the Trueman race alive.

  Talsy finished her stew and entered the shack to ask Sheera the questions that burnt in her mind. The old seer sat beside a thin pallet, bathing the brow of the man who lay on it. He was stripped to the waist, his skin beaded with sweat above his tatty brown trousers. Dark brown hair was plastered to his forehead, and crooked bro
ws frowned above a proud nose. His features had an air of quality and breeding about them. Lean muscle ridged his broad-shouldered torso, and a blood-stained dressing was strapped to his flank.

  Sheera held a finger to her lips, whispering, "He has a fever. The wound is bad."

  Talsy knelt beside her. "Is he one of the chosen?"

  The old woman gestured for her to leave the shack and followed. Outside, she settled down to stir the stew again.

  "We're not sure if he is. We found him a few days ago on our way here. He was with a party of women and children, all of whom had been slaughtered, but not by the Hashon Jahar. So we think he's chosen, although it won't matter soon; he's dying."

  "How do you know the Black Riders didn’t kill them?"

  Sheera shook her head. "There were many dead brigands amongst the fallen." She jerked her thumb at the shack behind her. "He was obviously a fighter. He had a great sword with him. We brought him here and I've been nursing him. But the wound grows worse, and a fever has now set in. Doubtless he'll be dead soon."

  Talsy considered this, staring into the fire. "I have a friend who might help him, if he is one of the chosen."

  "Then bring your friend, my dear, and let's find out. He hasn't woken since we found him, so we can't question him. If he isn't chosen he must be cast out."

  Talsy nodded. There was no reason for Chanter to avoid these Truemen, who would not wish to harm him. In fact, she was curious about how they would react to him. Rising, she thanked Sheera for the food and trotted back along the rocky path. She arrived gasping at the rock where Chanter perched, chewing a blade of grass and gazing into space. He smiled when she approached and slid down to join her on the ground.

  "Why the hurry?" he enquired as she strived to catch her breath.

  She leant on the rock and grinned. "They're chosen!" He raised a brow, and she elaborated, "They don't hate Mujar. They were warned of the Black Riders' coming and fled their villages. The seers were given a vision or dream, and brought the good people to safety."

  He nodded. "Good, then you'll have company for the journey."

  "What journey?"

  "We must continue westwards for the gathering."