T Southwell - Children of Another God

Talsy relaxed with a sigh, pulling Kieran’s hand away. He returned her glare, not bothered, it seemed, by her anger. She turned her back on him and tried to ignore him, which was difficult since they were crammed into the fork. As soon as the green haze dispersed, she tried to move away.

Kieran held her back. "Wait."

"It's safe," she said. "The Kuran has withdrawn her power."

He glanced down. "There's no hurry. We're still safer up here."

"I need some fresh air."

"You've spent too long with a Mujar, girl. You don't smell so good yourself."

Talsy gasped at his effrontery, wrenched free and moved to another branch. "Just because we share the same tree doesn't mean we have to sit on top of each other."

"Except that I might have to stop your flapping mouth again."

"You’re the most disgusting, boorish, moronic bully I've ever had the misfortune to meet," she stated.

"Apart from you, you mean," he shot back.

Talsy seethed, unable to think of a rejoinder. Kieran seemed to be endowed with an above average intelligence, for a man.

"You're right," she agreed. "I have spent too long with a Mujar. I've forgotten just how unpleasant a Trueman can be."

"Ah, well, compared with a Mujar we're all flawed. Haven't you realised it yet? Mujar are perfect in every way. That's why Truemen hate them. They make us look like a bunch of bull-headed savages. They epitomise all that's pure and good, and are quite subservient, which you must enjoy."

Talsy wished that she could kick him, but her perch was too precarious. "I prefer Chanter's company to yours any day."

Kieran sighed and shook his head. "He'll break your heart, without meaning to, of course. Loving a Mujar is like loving the wind. No one can hold onto something that wild."

"I don't want to hold onto him."

"He won't stay -"

"He will!" She scowled at him. "He'll never leave me. He told me so himself, and Mujar don’t lie."

"I was going to say, he won't stay with you at night."

"Because of the Dolana, but there's ways around that."

Kieran shifted, leaning closer. "Not just because of the Dolana, because they don't sleep. They run free at night in animal form."

"How do you know so much about Mujar?"

Kieran looked pensive, as if considering how much to tell her about his past. "I grew up with one. He taught me many things about Mujar. My father loved Dancer like a brother, but still he would not stay. It broke my father's heart when they took him to the Pit."

A pang of pity went through her, but her anger still simmered. "Well, all this has nothing to do with my relationship with Chanter."

Talsy started to climb down, but he pulled her back, ignoring her protests, pushed her into the fork and pinned her there. She seethed, knowing the futility of fighting him, and they sat cramped in the fork until the afternoon. When he decided it was safe to climb down, she made a bee-line for the edge of the woods to check on the Hashon Jahar. He gripped her wrist and towed her deeper into the forest.

"They're still there," he said. "We'll look tomorrow."

Chanter gazed up at the stars, so cold and beautiful against the night sky. The Hashon Jahar would leave him trapped by Dolana, and, if no one helped him, rain would heal his flesh around the spears, holding him forever. Dolana's warning had stopped, allowing him the peace to seek a dreamless sleep, and he hoped that Talsy was safe rather than dead.

Chanter became aware of movement in the shadows around him. Inky figures walked across the moon-silvered soil, and beasts heaved themselves to their feet with a jingle of harness. The Hashon Jahar were on the move again. They mounted their tireless steeds and formed up into rows and columns. Chanter knew where they were going. They answered the same silent call as he did, guided by the gods to the gathering. The steady clop of hooves passed him, row upon orderly row of animated statues of stone and earth blood. Chanter wondered if his purpose, granted by choosing the girl, was done.

From the sounds of their hoof beats, he knew that the column of Black Riders wound through the rocks and onto the beach. He envisioned the moonlight glinting on their armour and the silken hides of lifeless horses. They would enter the sea, and the waves would close over them as they rode down the sandy sea bed, forging through the water, their passage marked by a swathe of phosphorescence. They would move with great torpidity through the dark ocean depths. Weeks or months from now, however, they would emerge onto the shores of the western continent to conclude their work on this world.

Talsy woke stiff and cold, and threw off Kieran’s cloak with a grunt of annoyance. She had not asked for comforts from the surly warrior, nor did she want any. The dawn chill prickled her skin with goose bumps, but she ignored it to rise and stretch. Kieran studied her with the idle, disinterested gaze of a man watching gold fish in a bowl. Annoyed by his unwanted help and unwelcome surveillance, she snorted and strode away through the forest, back towards the camp by the shore. Kieran rose and followed.

At the edge of the forest, her heart leapt. The Black Riders had vanished as if they had never been. She ran through the dew-wet fields towards the camp, her spirits lifted by the prospect of finding Chanter and releasing him from whatever predicament he was in. Before she entered the settlement, the battlefield stench hit her, churning her empty stomach. She slowed, averting her eyes from the torn bodies, most battered beyond recognition.

Talsy searched the debris with flinching eyes, while Kieran lifted broken walls to peer beneath them and pulled aside ragged cloths that covered mangled remains. His lack of reaction, other than a slight paling of his lips, told her that he was hardened to such sights. Talsy gave a cry of horror when she found Chanter, and ran to kneel beside him, her throat tight with anguish. She pulled out the spear that pierced his throat and lifted his dusty head onto her lap, stroking the tangled hair from his bloody face. He smiled at her, then grimaced as Kieran pulled a spear from his hand.

She turned to the warrior. "Be gentle!"

He paused. "It's hard to be gentle when pulling spears from a man's body."

The coldness of Chanter’s flesh shocked her, and she chafed his free hand to try to warm it. When he had removed the other spears, Kieran squatted beside the Mujar and considered the broken shaft protruding from his chest. After some contemplation, he lifted Chanter and pulled the spear out of his back, since the shattered shaft made it impossible to pull through. The spear head came free with a grating of metal on bone and a gush of fresh blood. Talsy looked away as her stomach made a determined effort to hurl its contents out of her mouth. Kieran dropped the spear and slipped his arms under the Mujar, lifting him. He strode down the beach, followed by Talsy, her brow wrinkled with worry. Kieran lowered Chanter into the sea, holding on when he convulsed with the agony of healing.

"Slowly!" Talsy cried. "Don't you know healing is more painful for Mujar?"

"That’s why it's better to get it over with."

Chanter writhed as the water closed over his wounds, his face twisted as he groaned through gritted teeth. Talsy and Kieran ducked a little when the air swelled and filled with the sound of beating wings, the Mujar's power running wild with his pain. Kieran braved the manifestation with admirable aplomb as waves washed over the hole in Chanter's chest and his convulsions increased. The manifestation of Ashmar winked out and the paroxysms ebbed, and the lines of pain smoothed from Chanter's face. The healing had been swift in the sea's powerful embrace.

The Mujar opened his eyes and smiled, then a flash of Shissar engulfed them and Kieran held a sleek, finned blue-grey creature. With a powerful lash of its flukes, the dolphin slipped from his grasp and powered away into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves. Talsy stared after him in confusion, while Kieran waded back to shore.