The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God

  The mob’s shouts confirmed her statement, and he released his sword hilt. “Filthy Mujar.”

  She frowned. “Go and tell the soldiers to send for reinforcements and bring us food and wine.”

  The lookout opened his mouth as if to protest her high-handed orders, then apparently thought better of it and headed for the staircase with a last glare at Chanter. The Mujar wandered to the edge of the platform and gazed out across the land, his face deadpan.

  She joined him. “Is it three days from now, or from when the Hashon Jahar arrive?”

  “Three days of protection is exactly that. Waiting doesn’t count.”

  “How will you do it?”

  Chanter smiled. “Wait and see.”

  Chapter Eight

  Talsy spent the night snuggled up to Chanter on the soft pallets the soldiers brought up, safe from Dolana’s creeping cold. Good food and wine filled their bellies, and her only regret was that he only held her, but she was content. When the stomp of feet on the stairs woke her in dawn’s cool light, she was pressed close to him, her cheek cushioned on his arm. She sat up and stretched. Chanter remained prone, his eyes closed. He opened them when a group of panting people emerged from the stairway, a wheezing Tranton leading them.

  Jashon followed, scowling, then a man in a gold-trimmed purple cloak. Tranton introduced him as Governor Cusak, and he eyed them with a belligerent expression. Chanter gazed at the sky. Several advisors joined the group, then two servants with trays laden with steaming bowls of porridge, bacon, eggs, and hot milk. The smell of food made the Mujar sit up at last and take an interest. He and Talsy ate while the governor fidgeted, looking sour.

  “You could have been the richest man in the city, Mujar. Do you mock me with your free aid?”

  Chanter ignored him, so Talsy said, “He can’t be bribed.”

  “I know,” Cusak said. “No one can make a Mujar help. He’d have stood by and watched us all die.”

  “That’s right. If you help them they’ll help you, but you can’t force them.”

  Cusak snorted. “They mock us with their powers and reward us for good behaviour as if they’re better than us.”

  “They are.”

  Jashon snarled, “They’re damned worthless yellow -” He broke off as Tranton elbowed him.

  Cusak asked, “Why only three days?”

  “It’s enough,” Chanter replied.

  “What do you mean? What if the Hashon Jahar are still there after three days?”

  The Mujar shrugged and spooned his porridge.

  Cusak stepped towards him. “Answer me, damn you!”

  Talsy stood up and blocked his way. “He granted you three days, and he means that it’s enough to repay you for freeing him. No Mujar will be trapped by a limitless promise of aid, it takes away their freedom.” She remembered, with deep shame, her attempt to make him stay with her indefinitely, which in turn reminded her of the finite nature of the clan bond. How would she react, on the day he left? Would she also be angry and curse him?

  Cusak said, “And then the Black Riders will attack us anyway.”

  “If they’re still waiting.”

  “You’ll die too. Doesn’t he look after his clan?”

  Chanter said, “No harm will come to my clan.”

  “If your clan is still in the city, you’ll have to stay, won’t you?”

  “But only she’ll be safe.”

  Talsy’s heart swelled and her eyes stung. It did not matter that it was the clan bond that made him take care of her, or that his feelings for her were a mystery and likely to remain so; if, indeed, he had any. Her affection for him could not be denied, and his loyalty to their bond elated her.

  Jashon burst out, “You bastard! You -” He shut his mouth as the governor held up a hand.

  Cusak spoke calmly. “Mujar, what if I offered you clan bond?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a clan.”

  “Her?” Cusak motioned to Talsy. “I can offer you much more. Better comforts, more food, anything you want.”

  “No.” The Mujar raised impassive eyes.

  Cusak approached Chanter, who rose and backed away.

  Talsy stepped between them again. “Leave him alone. If you harm him now, you break the Wish and he’ll leave you with no protection at all.” She had no idea if this was true, but it sounded good, and stopped Cusak in his tracks.

  The governor’s hands clenched. From his thunderous expression, she knew the only thing he found more irritating than an obstinate Mujar was an uppity slip of a girl. He focussed his anger on her. “You’re an insolent little bitch.”

  Tranton asked, “Your Grace, how long before the Hashon Jahar get here?”

  Cusak swung away. “The last scout said a couple of hours.”

  Talsy returned to her meal, and Chanter sat beside her, casting the governor guarded looks. Cusak leant on the railing and squinted at the distant forests beyond the cultivated fields. When he finished his food, Chanter rose and went to lean against the rail on the far side of the tower. Talsy joined him, and he looked at her.

  “They should not stay here.”

  “Why? Oh.” She remembered her reaction to her first experience of a manifestation of the Powers. The thought of these cruel, proud men cowering at Chanter’s power appealed to her, and she was tempted to say nothing. Chanter frowned, and she sighed, rolled her eyes and approached Tranton. Not caring whether they took her advice or not, she informed the hirsute man of Chanter’s warning, leaving him to persuade the governor, if he could. Evidently he was unsuccessful, for Cusak stayed, although a few of the advisors left.

  The wait seemed much longer than two hours. Tension stretched the time, the atmosphere thick with hatred and resentment. Cusak glared at Chanter, and Talsy glowered back, irked by his lack of gratitude on top of everything else. Jashon’s thin face was fixed in a permanent scowl, while Tranton studied the scene with a supercilious smile. Chanter watched the wheeling crows, apparently disinterested in the Truemen and their ill-concealed emotions. His nostrils flared as a breeze lifted the hair from his neck.

  The water used in his healing had washed off the blood, and no sign of his ordeal remained. Once again, he reminded Talsy of a wild creature gazing out of a cage, longing for the freedom of the wide open spaces that beckoned from without. Granting her Wish had trapped Chanter, but in three days he would be free again. She was certain he would waste no time quitting this horrible city and the company of its hateful inhabitants. The Truemen’s rancour galled her, and their sullen silence ate at her nerves.

  When Cusak stiffened, it was almost a relief. He pointed across the fields. “There they are!”

  Everyone stared at the distant trees, and the black line that obscured their base, like deep shadow. Too deep. The blackness seeped from the forest like darkness at dusk. Talsy’s heart pounded and her blood turned cold. Just the sight of them, even from this distance, was unnerving. The Black Riders. Hashon Jahar. Riders of Death. They had many names, and stories of their utter ruthlessness preceded them, carried by those who fled the carnage on swift steeds to warn others.

  Few escaped the Hashon Jahar, and those who did survived only a short time before the Black Death caught up with them. Some said that they were invincible, that they killed only for the pleasure of it and did not bother to loot the towns they vanquished. Others told stories of village headmen who went out to meet the Black Riders and offer their surrender, but never returned, and their villages were destroyed. No one knew exactly who they were, but most thought they were a savage tribe from the south, intent on conquering the entire continent.

  Everything about them was black, from their steeds to their skins. No city, fortress, town or village had withstood their attack. No one had ever survived, except... She looked at Chanter.

  “You’ve seen them before, when they wiped out your clan.”

  He nodded.

  “Did they know you were Mujar?”

&n
bsp; “Yes.”

  “Who are they? Why didn’t they throw you in a Pit?”

  Chanter’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the Riders, and he frowned, as if considering her questions. “It would be better to ask what they are, not who.”

  “You mean they’re not Truemen?” Talsy’s mind raced. “If they’re not Truemen, what are they? Are they of this world?”

  He glanced at her. “Yes.”

  “Why do they slaughter us? What do they want?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  The blackness left the trees and moved towards the city in a column that stretched all the way back to the forest. They moved at a gallop, the speed of their advance making the column look like a black snake gliding towards the city. Shiny armour and jet blades flashed in the sunlight; tall lances stitched the landscape like black thread on green silk.

  The thunder of their horses’ hooves came faintly on the wind, bringing with it deep dread. In the city below, a hush fell as people listened to death’s approach. Many looked up at the tower where the Mujar stood, one man against an army. Talsy glanced at him again. His eyes looked like slits of sky. A thought struck her like a thunderbolt out of the blue, and the question trotted off her tongue unbidden.

  “Do they die?”

  He hesitated, perhaps surprised by her question, and closed his eyes as if loath to answer it. When he opened them again, he gazed at the approaching menace. “No.”

  “They’re immortal, like you!”

  “No.” He turned to face her. “Not like me.”

  “How many creatures of this world are immortal?”

  “They’re not immortal.”

  “You just said...”

  He shook his head, frowning. “I can’t tell you any more.”

  The Black Riders crossed the cultivated land around the city, the rumble of their hooves growing louder. The horses continued at a full gallop, apparently tireless. The city’s populace stood still, riveted by the approaching thunder. Talsy wondered how close Chanter was going to let them get. Cusak turned to scowl at the Mujar.

  “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? Cusak’s 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 grumble 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 he pointed at the river bank to the right of the city, completing the barrier.

  The Hashon Jahar slowed, their mounts rearing and prancing 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 to the firewall. “Every element of this world is a part of me, as they’re a part of everything, although 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.”

  “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 them.”

  The Hashon Jahar 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.

&n
bsp; 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.