T Southwell - Children of Another God

The firewall vanished in a whump of sucked-in air. Bedlam erupted as the chosen ran screaming towards the beach. Talsy fought her way towards Chanter, buffeted by the panic-stricken people who raced past her. The men bent over Chanter, clubbing, kicking and spitting on him. The Hashon Jahar moved. As if a silent signal spurred them, they leapt forward in a charge. Many of the steeds reared in their eagerness, loosed from their riders’ restraint. Long lances lowered, and swords flashed in the sunlight. Talsy tried to reach Chanter, but the wild-eyed stampede forced her back. The Black Riders crossed the scorched line where Chanter's fire had been and converged on the camp. The thunder of their hooves drowned out her desperate cries as she shouted his name.

An arm snapped around her waist and yanked her off her feet with enough force to punch the air out of her lungs. She yanked out her knife, kicking and squirming. Kieran spun and ran for the shelter of some shacks, ignoring her struggles and bellowed abuse.

"There's nothing you can do for him! He doesn't need your help!" he yelled back.

Ducking around a hut, he paused, holding her tight against his side, and drew his sword. Unable to get free, Talsy pressed her knife against his arm in a blatant threat. Kieran knocked it from her fist with a painful blow that made her clutch her stinging hand. Her curses were inaudible over the screams of the fleeing and the defiant shouts of those who turned to fight with whatever weapons they could find. The Hashon Jahar entered the camp in a wave of pounding death, their steeds smashing down shanties and people alike. For the first time, she was able to make out details.

Each Rider might have been another's twin, and identical armour covered slab-like torsos. Their steeds stood over eighteen hands tall, broad-shouldered beasts with long tangled manes and tails. They were as alike as their riders, who guided them with curved bits and barbed spurs. Their eyes might have been carved from granite, yet their hides rippled with muscle and their manes flew in the breeze. Behind their visors, the Riders’ faces were twisted with suffering.

Kieran cursed and pressed back against the shack. The Hashon Jahar thundered past them, chasing chosen. Talsy was certain that his long black sword would do him no good, no matter how great a warrior he was. A Rider came around the side of the shack and raised its weapon. Talsy yelled a warning, and Kieran plunged his blade into the steed's shoulder. The horse staggered, thick black liquid oozing from the wound. Its legs buckled, and it collapsed, its rider falling with a clatter of armour. Kieran edged towards the back of the hovel, but Talsy knew it was only a matter of time before more Black Riders found them.

Pain washed through Chanter in a gentle tide. The dark curtain of unconsciousness rose to reveal a world of blood and dust and death. Black Riders rode over and around him, their steeds' hooves thudded into the ground beside him, some battered him as they passed. The spear through his chest weighed him down, and Dolana had seeped into him while he was unconscious. It robbed him of much of his strength and the ability to wield any other Power. Screams filled the air in a ghastly din that the drumming of hooves underscored.

The stench of blood and death accosted his nose, and Dolana's warning pounded through him. Its urgency demanded action to save the First Chosen. He tried to push himself away from the ground, but a passing Rider thrust its lance through him, pinning him down. Only Earthpower was at his command now, and Talsy's peril spurred him on. If the First Chosen died, fate would change again and the race of Truemen would be doomed. Chanter invoked Dolana, fighting the chill that froze his weakened will. Using the Earthpower to locate Talsy, he helped her the only way he could.

Talsy yelped as the ground in front of her bulged. It tore open, and a sheet of grey bedrock some three feet wide and twenty feet long thrust up with a dull grinding of stone and soil. Rising with astonishing speed, it formed a barrier ten feet high that shimmered with the unmistakeable glint of Mujar power. It curved around the back of the hut, cutting off the approach of several Hashon Jahar. Just beyond the shack, it divided into two parallel walls that rose from the soil like the backs of two whales, creating a narrow avenue that shot towards the forest. The rising rock thrust aside the Black Riders as if they were toys, knocking steeds down as it parted.

Talsy sobbed, "Chanter!"

Kieran sheathed his sword and slung her over his shoulder, ignoring her angry curses and pounding fists on his back. The walls rose ahead of them, guarding their path as he sprinted for the forest. The Black Riders attacked, as if expecting the stone to give way, and, indeed, the areas they targeted shimmered and warped. The walls remained solid, however, forcing them to swing their steeds away before they crashed into them. The Black Riders fell behind, the camp their main target.

Chanter hung on to the Earthpower, digging his fingers into the dirt to aid his concentration. Not only did he strive to control the Dolana that overfilled him, but also to fend off the Black Riders' attacks on the walls he had caused to rise to guard Talsy's escape. Their command of Dolana warred with his, but even in his weakened state they could not win. No being of this world, not even the combined willpower of the Hashon Jahar, could defy the will of a Mujar.

The air thickened with screams and dust as the steeds' hooves smashed down shacks, crushed their occupants or forced them to flee into the gauntlet of swords and lances. Chanter gritted his teeth, clinging to the whipping silver river of power that lashed him with freezing numbness, weakening his will. He opened his eyes to glimpse the Hashon Jahar's twisted faces, his lips drawn back in a defiant grin. A Rider swung close and bent to look down at him, radiating silent hatred. It swung a long spear like a club, and darkness swallowed Chanter.

Talsy cried out as the walls collapsed, vanishing back into the ground as swiftly as they had arisen. She renewed her struggles, but Kieran hung on and increased his pace, his breath rasping.

Reaching the trees, he staggered into their shade and fell to his knees. The moment Talsy's feet touched the ground, she tried to wrench free, but he hung onto her legs, sending her sprawling. Evidently he did not have the strength to fight her or the breath to argue, for he hauled himself on top of her pinned her down.

Talsy shouted, "Get off me, you great oaf! Chanter needs help! Let me go!"

Kieran foiled her struggles with frightening ease. His armour dug into her, bruised her when she wriggled and made her more furious. Realising that her situation was hopeless, and she was only hurting herself, she lay still and fumed for the few minutes it took Kieran to recover his breath. Then he rose to his feet and pulled her up, holding her away when she tried to kick him. She struggled and twisted, cursing him. His brows knotted and he pushed her back against a tree hard enough to make her grimace.

Pinning her to it, he said, "Now you can quit acting like a little bitch and settle down. I haven't time for your stupid tantrums. Don't make me hurt you."

"Let go of me!" she shouted.

"With pleasure, but you're not running back to try to save the Mujar, got it? He doesn't need saving, but you do."

"They might torture him!"

"Then let them," he said. "They can't kill him."

"He must be pinned to the ground, if I free him -"

"Oh, you think they're going to let you, do you?" He turned his head to stare at the distant camp, now a seething mass of black. "You haven't got a hope in hell."

Talsy glared up at him. "What do you care what happens to me, anyway?"

"Are you going to behave yourself?"