Children of Another God tbw-1 Read online

  Talsy glanced out to sea. "That's west, into the ocean."

  "Yes. We must cross it to reach the western continent."

  "Why?"

  "You'll find out when we get there."

  She shrugged it off, resolving to get it out of him later somehow. "Come on." Taking his hand, she pulled him towards the camp. "There's one who needs your help." She paused. "You will help him, won't you? He might be one of the chosen, and therefore worthy."

  "Might be?"

  "He's injured, and can't speak, but they think he is."

  Chanter allowed her to tug him along, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. After the treatment he had received from Truemen in the past, she did not blame him for his mistrust, and glanced back often with a reassuring smile. On the camp's outskirts, he stopped and studied the people with wary eyes, reminding her that he had not willingly entered the presence of men in his true form before. Since the demise of his clan, he had been suspicious of Truemen, and rightly so. She tugged him forward.

  The reaction of the chosen was mixed and surprising. Most stopped their work and conversations to stare at Chanter, and silence descended. Several youngsters ran and hid, peering from tents and shacks. One woman fell to her knees and sobbed with wild abandon, hiding her face in her skirt. Others moved to comfort her, and men who stood in Chanter's path backed away. An old man came forward and bowed with grave dignity, his wrinkled face wreathed in a gentle smile.

  "Welcome, Mujar," he murmured. "We are honoured."

  Chanter glanced at the old man, who lowered his eyes and retreated. Talsy led Chanter to Sheera's shack, eager to introduce him to the old woman with whom she had shared a strong rapport. Sheera looked up from her work, and her bland expression changed to one of amazement and joy. Dropping the spoon with which she stirred the stew, she rose with a soft cry and strode towards Chanter, lifting her arms as if to embrace him. The Mujar pulled his hand from Talsy's grip and stepped back.

  The air swelled and filled with the soft beating of wings. Sheera stopped and lowered her arms, and the manifestation of Ashmar died away. Her eyes overflowed, and she brushed at the tears that coursed down her cheeks. She cast Talsy a look of deep gratitude before turning her gaze upon Chanter again. Stepping forward cautiously, she performed a creaky curtsy.

  "You are welcome amongst us. I'm sorry I startled you, I mean you no harm." She looked at Talsy. "You didn't mention that your friend was Mujar, child. You should have."

  Talsy glanced around at the gawping crowd. "I wasn't expecting this reaction."

  "Then what were you expecting, foolish girl? Many of these people have known Mujar and lost them to the Pits, others have only heard legends." Sheera pointed at the weeping woman. "She loved one and lost him. The old man adopted one as his son, and lost him. The ones who are hiding have only heard the legends. You walk in here as bold as brass, towing a Mujar like a dog on a lead. What did you expect?"

  Talsy shuffled in embarrassment. "What Mujar have you known?"

  Sheera blinked away fresh tears. "I too, had one as a son. I hid him for many years, for I lived alone in the woods. He was my pride and joy, so beautiful and gentle. We had an understanding, not a bond. I gave him all the comforts he wished, just for his company. When the townsfolk found out about him, they came and took him away to a Pit. They wounded him terribly with a spear, but he would not fight, even though I begged him to."

  "Why did you run at Chanter?"

  "I… He looks so like him, I wanted to embrace him." She shook her head. "But it was wrong, I know. He is as wild and untouchable as my friend was. What bond do you have with him, that he allows you to touch him?"

  Talsy glanced at Chanter. She had not realised that Mujar were so reluctant to be handled. He had been unwilling to approach her at first, she recalled, and he always kept his distance from Truemen. Only when he had agreed to clan bond had he lain beside her. Her hand rose towards the Mujar mark on her brow, but a glance at Chanter stopped her, for his eyes held a warning.

  "We have clan bond," she said.

  Sheera nodded and stepped aside, gesturing to the pot and stools set around the fire. "I offer comforts, Mujar. You are welcome at my table, humble though it is. Are you hungry?"

  Chanter inclined his head and went over to settle on a stool. He glanced around at the staring people, most of whom averted their eyes or went back to their tasks, throwing surreptitious looks at him.

  Sheera dished up a bowl of stew and handed it to him, her eyes filled with wonder. Chanter ignored her, and the others who still gaped at him from their hiding places.

  Talsy sat on a stool next to him and asked, "How is the wounded man?"

  The old woman looked blank for a moment. "Oh, he's a little worse."

  Talsy glanced at Chanter. "Perhaps you should see to him now, before he gets sicker."

  The Mujar paused, a spoonful of stew poised before his mouth.

  Sheera protested, "There's no need. He'll be all right."

  Chanter continued with his meal, ignoring Talsy's fretting. To distract herself, she asked Sheera, "How long did you know your Mujar?"

  "On and off for four years. He came and went as he pleased, of course. Sometimes he would be gone for days or months. Then he would reappear and stay for several weeks. He always slept elsewhere, for some reason."

  The old woman's ignorance surprised Talsy, who opened her mouth to explain why Mujar slept elsewhere. Chanter elbowed her, and she glanced at him. He shook his head.

  "You mustn't speak of Mujar to outsiders."

  "But -"

  "No."

  "He's right," Sheera declared. "If Kuran had wanted me to know, he would have told me."

  "Kuran?" Talsy's brows rose. "But -"

  "Talsy…" Chanter shook his head, and she scowled at him, annoyed.

  "What?"

  The Mujar put aside his plate and took her arm, tugging her from her stool. When they were out of earshot of the Truemen, he stopped and turned to her.

  "Tell them nothing of what you know. It's only you I told."

  "Why? A Kuran is a forest guardian, not a name."

  He nodded. "The Mujar she adopted did not give his real name. A Mujar's name gives a small amount of power to anyone he tells it to, so most are reluctant to give it. The secrets I told you are for you alone, understand? You may tell them my name, because coming from you it gives them no power over me, but nothing else."

  "Why did you tell me?"

  "Because we had clan bond. If they question you, tell them to ask me. They won't."

  She scowled. "You don't trust them?"

  "They're not clan."

  "They're chosen!"

  Chanter said, "Perhaps not all are worthy. The seers did the choosing. They may have made mistakes, or brought their sons and daughters who are not worthy. Many, learning that it would save them, will have pretended to be chosen. We'll have to be careful."

  "Surely they wouldn't dare to harm us?"

  "When cornered, even the most timid creature will fight more fiercely than you ever thought possible."

  "But they're not cornered," she protested. "They're saved!"

  "They'll blame Mujar for the deaths of their friends and families, and their hatred will grow stronger than ever. They'll be looking for vengeance."

  Talsy gazed up at him with despairing eyes. "Can't you tell if they're chosen?"

  "No." He turned away. "Come, let's go back, my food is getting cold."

  Talsy trailed after him back to the camp where Sheera waited, looking a little nervous. As the Mujar sat down to continue his meal, she asked, "Did I do something to offend?"

  "No."

  Sheera relaxed and filled his bowl with another lavish helping of steaming stew. Chanter finished it and thanked her when she would have heaped more into his bowl. Talsy noticed that he spoke the ritual 'gratitude', but did not offer a Wish. A plate of food, she supposed, was not a big enough favour to earn one.

  Talsy turned to him. "Will you help the s
ick man now?"

  Sheera protested, "No, child, the Mujar owes him no favour. You cannot ask for such a Wish."

  "But he may be one of the chosen, and if so, he's -"

  "Have you forgotten our little talk already?" Chanter interrupted.

  "No, but -"

  "Good." He smiled. "I'll look at him."

  Sheera rose and held aside the flap of cloth that covered the shack’s doorway, admitting the Mujar and Talsy. The old woman followed and knelt beside the pallet to peel the bloody dressing from the wound. The ugly injury looked like a spear thrust. It seeped clear fluid, and an area of reddened flesh surrounded it. The man lay as before, his skin beaded with sweat. Chanter knelt beside him and examined him with his eyes, then turned to Sheera.

  "Leave us."

  The old woman obeyed, pulling the cloth across the door behind her. In the subsequent gloom, the Mujar leant closer to touch the skin at the base of man's throat.

  "He's marked."

  Talsy glanced at him, then at the jagged scar on man's throat. "What do you mean?"

  Chanter traced the scar. "He bears the mark of a Kuran. He has done some great service for a forest soul."

  "So he's chosen?"

  "He may be the most worthy of all these people, apart from you, of course." He cast her a gentle smile.

  Talsy scrambled to her feet. "I'll get some water."

  Hurrying out, she almost bumped into Sheera, who stood outside, holding a pail of water. Talsy shot her a smile and took it before returning to Chanter's side. The Mujar filled a cup and poured it onto the wound as he invoked Shissar. The humble shack came alive with soft swirling mist, hissing rain and splashing water mixed with the crash of waves. Chanter laid his hands on the wound, and the seeping redness vanished. The edges drew together and sealed in a pale scar. The man's skin cooled as his fever subsided, and a little colour invaded it.

  Chanter sat back as the stranger's eyelids flickered, then opened to reveal the blackest eyes Talsy had ever seen. His expression changed to one of fearful surprise when he spotted Chanter, and he thrust himself back against the wall, banging his head on it. The Mujar watched him with narrowed eyes, and Talsy's heart sank. The man licked his lips, his gaze darting between them.

  "Mujar." He hesitated, glancing at Talsy. "Who are you?"

  "Friends."

  "What's happened? Where am I?"

  "You were found wounded in the forest and brought here. We healed you," Talsy explained.

  "My people?"

  "Dead."

  He stared at Chanter. "Why did you help me?"

  "You carry the mark of a Kuran. You are one of the chosen."

  "Yes." The man ran a hand through his damp hair. "We left our village, but we were attacked in the forest. Could I have some water?"

  Talsy gave him a cup of water, and he gulped it down, finishing two more before he turned his attention to his wound and fingered the scar on his flank.

  "Why were you marked by a Kuran?" Talsy asked.

  "A what?" He looked confused.

  "A forest soul."

  The man shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You helped a forest."

  "I saved one, yes, because I lived in it. A bunch of woodcutters started felling the trees, and I chased them out. In a fit of spite, they set fire to the woods, but I stopped it with a firebreak. Then I taught them a lesson they'd never forget. On the way home, a bolt of lightning struck me."

  Chanter nodded, studying the man.

  Talsy asked, "Did you save the trees only because you lived amongst them?"

  "No, not entirely. I was raised in the forest, I didn't want a bunch of idiots cutting it down."

  "Do you hate Mujar?"

  "No." He shot Chanter a wary glance. "My father was friends with one. He used to take me into the woods as a child. He taught me many things about the trees and animals. When I was eleven, he was taken to a Pit."

  "What's your name?" Talsy ignored Chanter's hard look.

  "Kieran."

  Talsy smiled and introduced herself and Chanter. Kieran had relaxed while they talked, but when the Mujar rose to leave, he looked nervous again. Chanter paused to eye him in a puzzled manner before pushing aside the cloth. Talsy rose to follow, and Kieran climbed to his feet, clearly stiff from days of lying on the thin pallet. He banged his head on the roof, and Talsy turned to glance up at him in surprise. She and Chanter could stand in the shack, but Kieran had to hunch over, and rubbed the back of his head.

  Outside, he towered over them, at least six inches taller than Chanter and dwarfing Talsy and Sheera. The old woman studied him as he stood blinking in the sunlight, then turned to Talsy.

  "Is he chosen?"

  "Yes."

  Kieran spotted the stew pot and helped himself to a bowl, sitting on one of the stools. Sheera picked up a bundle and held it out to Chanter.

  "These are for you. Gifts from the people."

  The Mujar took the bundle and squatted to open it, pulling out a new pair of black leather leggings and a silver-studded vest. He smiled at Sheera, his eyes alight.

  "Gratitude."

  Sheera blushed, and Talsy grinned. While Chanter went into the forest to change, Talsy sat by the fire and Kieran put away copious amounts of stew. Sheera explained that a shack had been made available for her, waving aside her protests that she had a tent.

  "Nonsense, child, you've brought us a great gift. The least we can do is see to it that you're looked after. Will the Mujar stay with you at night?"

  Talsy shook her head. "I don't know. Sometimes he does, for he knows I don't like to be alone, but other times he leaves."

  "Well, I doubt he'll stay now that you have all of us around you."

  Talsy doubted it too, and experienced a pang of sadness. Chanter returned, clad in his new clothes, and stayed in the camp until dark, when Talsy was installed in her shack. He paced around the cramped interior before settling by the door when she lay down on the mattress.

  Talsy woke alone, but, as she sat down to breakfast with Sheera and Kieran, Chanter returned in the shape of an eagle and transformed. He consumed the humble porridge hungrily, then took her arm and led her away from the camp. In the forest's quiet, he perched on a log and looked up at her.

  "You have a job to do."

  Talsy settled on the ground at his feet. "I do?"

  He nodded. "You must tell these people to find, or build a ship in which to travel to the western continent."

  "Why?"

  "We have to get to the gathering."

  "What's that?"

  "You'll see,” Chanter said. “We'll need a big ship to carry a hundred and fifty people, although by the time we leave, there may be more or less."

  "Why are you being so mysterious?"

  He smiled. "I don't have all the answers; I just know we must go."

  Talsy toyed with a leaf skeleton. "To build a ship, we'll need wood, and that means felling trees. Also, it will take time."

  "I know. Last night I went to the harbour up the coast, but there are no big ships there. I'll search further afield, but I'll be gone awhile. If we have to build one, I'll speak to the Kuran of this forest, and she will give me trees."

  She glanced around at the sun-dappled forest. "There's a Kuran here?"

  "Yes, but she's not angry like the one near Jishan. Truemen have only taken a few of her trees."

  "How long will you be gone?"

  "A few days," he said. "You'll be safe with these people. They have no reason to harm you."

  "So what must I tell them?"

  "That they must gather the things they'll need to build a ship, other than wood. Canvas, rope, whatever. It will be needed to repair any ship I find, anyway."

  He rose to his feet, and impulsively she hugged him. He patted her back until she released him and stepped back to gaze into his eyes.

  "Don't be long."

  Chanter smiled and walked away to spring into the air. With a rush of wind he
vanished, and a daltar eagle rose into the sky on powerful wing strokes.

  When Talsy told Sheera of Chanter's plans, she called a meeting of her peers, and the word soon spread. Talsy missed Chanter, and several times caught Kieran’s dark gaze upon her, which she found unnerving. The following day, a party of men went to the ruined town up the coast and returned with rope and canvas, copper nails and tar.

  Nobody objected to the Mujar's plans, and the chosen set to work making sails and rigging. Kieran went hunting and brought Sheera a buck for her stew pot, then vanished the next day. The old seeress told Talsy that he had gone to find his sword. She was glad to escape his eyes, which seemed to dwell on her far too often, and spent her time making sails with the other women.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Talsy glanced up from the sail she sewed as Kieran sauntered into the camp with a long sword strapped to his hip. It complemented his black shirt, over which he now wore a sturdy leather jacket armoured with strips and studs of metal and lined with fur. Studded wristbands encircled his arms, and oddments of armour were tied here and there with leather thongs, each guarding a vulnerable spot.

  His leather trousers were scuffed at the knees and seat, and a short cloak of strong black material, lined with crimson silk, hung from his broad shoulders. The outfit looked like it might have once been a soldier’s uniform that had been patched and added to over the years. He walked with more confidence, but his guilt at his failure to protect his people haunted his eyes afresh. Four days had passed since he had left to search for his weapon, and he looked tired, which made her think that the battleground must be quite far away. He went straight to Sheera's hut for a plate of stew, then vanished inside, presumably to sleep.

  Two days later, six brawny men wandered into the camp. Although welcomed as chosen, they looked like a rough lot to Talsy, unshaven and dirty, carrying rusty swords and knives. They pitched ragged tents on the camp's outskirts and settled in, watching the young girls with lustful leers and the occasional coarse remark. Talsy sensed trouble brewing when they took wine skins from their packs.

  As the strangers drank, they grew more sullen and beady-eyed, their coarse remarks becoming offensive. In response, the chosen found tasks that took them well away from the noisome group and their obnoxious comments. Talsy retreated to the beach with most of the women to aid with the sail making. Late in the afternoon, while she sat with several women and cursed Kieran scrutiny, which lingered upon her every so often, a piercing scream shattered the camp's peace.