The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (8 page)

A Lake hung
before him, the invisible veil of its portal cutting through a
rocky slope. It stretched away in both directions, fading into the
distance until it vanished, leaving the reality of this world. As
luck would have it, he had found its centre quite by chance, a rare
happening. Lakes were hard to find, since they moved slowly around
the world. No one knew where they were exactly, although the
creatures that used them knew their approximate location. Chanter
had never encountered one before, and the prospect of a new
experience excited him. Joyfully he bounded down the hill, panting
steam as he loped towards the Lake's beckoning presence.

The rippling
veil of its juncture blazed with rainbow colours, made up of the
four elements whose powers were only visible to the creatures of
this world. The swirling curtain of shimmering hues was light split
by water, glittering with motes of Dolana that hung in the air.
Chanter changed his form in a moment of icy hush, becoming a man
again in order to enter the Lake. As he neared it, the god word
that was the key to unlock the portal sprang into his mind, and he
spoke it. Without the word he would have merely passed through the
shining curtain and remained in this world. At his command, the
bright veil parted, and he stepped into a warm, balmy day on
another world.

The transition
from bleak midnight snowy landscape to tropical midday lushness
stunned Chanter. As he paused to soak up the Lake's ambience, he
noted its strong, pure Powers. The soil glowed with Dolana that was
almost too powerful, chilling his feet. The plants shimmered with
Shissar, testament to this world's purity. He sensed an imbalance,
however, which discomfited him a little after his world's perfectly
balanced Powers.

Dolana and
Shissar dominated, and the sun's Crayash made his skin tingle
pleasantly, but Ashmar was weak. The thin, lifeless air was calm
almost to the point of being stagnant, and he missed the cold wind
he had left behind. For the creatures of Shamarese it posed no
problem, but he wondered if a Lowman would be comfortable in this
world. Even as he pondered that, he wondered why he did. Lowmen
were no concern of his, and were not allowed in the Lakes.
Dismissing his unease, he gazed around at the strange
landscape.

From its
bright, warm sun and profusion of life, he guessed it was one of
the Lakes of regeneration, like the Lake of Birth or Renewal. A
vista of burgeoning growth stretched away in all directions, plants
and trees so alien they defied description. Bulbous growths
supported disk-shaped leaves of brilliant magenta, turquoise and
indigo. Tall spindly trees draped the air with long streamers of
vermilion, maroon and saffron. A soft haze of pollen filled the
sky; countless airborne seeds drifting like gilded dust motes in
the sun. A velvet bed of bright aquamarine grass clothed the soil
in a rich fur of sweet-scented succulence.

Plants like
massive teardrops towered over neighbouring trees, their smooth
skins mottled with patches of vivid azure bordered by lines of the
purest ochre. A distant forest crept across the land, its dark
crimson trees swimming through the soil as if it was a brown sea.
Pale quasi-mushrooms gave respite to this riot of rich colour,
their simple grey hoods, standing shoulder height, filled with
canary-yellow frills. A fierce white sun glowed rich pink behind
streaks of baby-blue cloud. Chanter looked away with watering eyes
and shook his head, smiling. This was one of the weirder Lakes, it
seemed. Although he had not been in one before, he could not
imagine anything stranger.

Glancing
around, he spotted a native of his world. The rainbow beast stood
contentedly, its stilt-like legs pushed deep into the moist earth,
drawing on its goodness. The beast turned its long, tubular head
and regarded Chanter with glowing facetted eyes. Its delicate wings
were spread to catch the young sun's bright rays, and its
multi-hued skin shimmered like a butterfly's wing. It hooted a soft
greeting through its snout, which lacked any form of teeth, but was
used solely to suck up water and mud.

This was one of
the lowest forms of beast on Chanter's world, which gleaned its
nutrition from soil, water and sun, just like a true plant. It
ranked low in intelligence, yet it regarded him with calm
curiosity. Along its back, a dense mat of fronds overlapped like
feathers. As the Mujar approached, it raised them, inviting him to
pluck one and eat. Chanter was not really hungry, but did not wish
to be impolite, and picked one. The creature's delicious scent made
his mouth water, and it cooed with satisfaction as he munched the
delectable frond.

Chanter noticed
that the creature was in bud. A youngster hung beneath its belly,
still connected to its parent, but soon to drop. The baby curled
within a transparent bag of fluid, its long, delicate legs bent
around its body, still soft and rubbery. When it was time, the bag
would split, dumping the youngster onto the ground and severing its
umbilical. Then it would take several hours for it to dry and its
legs to harden so it could walk. It was easy to understand why the
creatures of Shamarese chose to give birth in the Lakes. He could
not imagine such a fragile youngster surviving in the harsh winter
he had left behind.

The Mujar
wandered on, nibbling the frond as he gazed around in wonder at the
strange world. He passed a group of flat, saucer-like lime-green
plants covered with crimson cups, and paused to glance in one. Most
contained only sticky yellow nectar, but a few had trapped some
crab-like animals with delicate wings made from strips of thin
horn. The tiny beasts struggled, but were doomed, and Chanter
shuddered a little as he walked by.

Here, it
seemed, plants ate animals. He wondered if the animals ate plants,
or something else, but intuition told him that on this world plants
were the dominant species. He also reminded himself that he was no
longer in his own world, and its laws did not apply. Here he might
find himself on the menu, and, although the thought did not make
him feel particularly threatened, it was prudent to be wary.

After a while,
he realised that he was on path, the grass worn away to reveal pale
soil of a peculiar dun hue. The Dolana seemed weaker on the path
than at its edges, perhaps depleted by the constant traffic. Then
again, what manner of creatures used it? He squatted to try to
discern tracks, but the scratches only looked like tiny claw marks.
Unconcerned, he wandered on, admiring the bizarre and ever-changing
landscape. On this world, the terrain changed quite literally, for
plants altered their colour periodically. The teardrop plants were
now crimson and indigo, the spindly streamer trees had changed to
puce, olive green and sienna. The sky had also darkened to a lovely
shade of violet, and a glance at the sun showed him that it was
going into eclipse with an irregularly-shaped moon. The pale blue
clouds, oddly, glowed with soft light, akin to a sunset.

A scratching
behind him made him whip around just as strong hands grabbed him
and dragged him off the path. Surprised, he swung to face his
attacker and found himself nose to snout with a Shamarese predator.
The beast released him and stepped back, its sinuous torso curving
as it dropped to all fours. Its large grey eyes slid away from his,
and it spoke in its fluting language.

"No harm,
Mujar. Bad things come along path."

Its speech was
rudimentary and rather crude, but perhaps the translation mangled
it. In his present form, Chanter knew he lacked a full
understanding of his fellow creature's speech. The rainbow-hued
predator watched him, awaiting his response. A long, graceful neck,
whose mane of delicate transparent fronds drifted when it moved,
supported its triangular head, and sharp white teeth filled its
rather inflexible mouth. Its hands, now in service as forefeet, had
long delicate fingers tipped with sharp white claws. The last two
digits were bent back to support the leading edge of a filmy wing
membrane that joined its abdomen halfway along its length. The
wings looked inefficient, and were. The predator could fly, but
only by commanding Ashmar. Unlike Trueman beasts, the creatures of
Shamarese did not rely on physical design, they commanded their
world as he did.

Chanter raised
his hand, palm up, and replied in the predator's language, "No
harm. What things use the path?"

The predator
glanced past him. "Creatures of this world. Small, but
annoying."

Chanter
followed the predator's gaze. Thousands of the crab-like creatures
scuttled along the path in single file, moving at a remarkable
speed, their bony wings rustling. Their bright, orange and burnt
umber shells glistened in the fading light, and bubbles frothed
from their jaws.

"Where are they
going?" Chanter asked.

"To the plasma
sea."

"Why?"

"To feed. First
time in this Lake, Mujar?"

Chanter nodded,
unashamed of his ignorance. "Have you been in many?"

"Lots."

"I'd like to
see this plasma sea. Is it dangerous?"

The predator
snorted musically and shook its head. "This is the Lake of Renewal.
Nothing is dangerous to us here. The plants feed on the animals,
which eat the plasma sea, but they don't like the taste of us."

The predator's
speech was improving, either with practice, or because Chanter was
becoming used to it.

"I'd like to
see it," he said.

The predator
turned and walked away with a graceful, sinuous motion, rather like
a four-legged snake. This was because its torso was longer than its
legs, and it used that to lengthen its strides. The beast would not
have a name, so Chanter decided to call it Nog, for his own
reference. He also had no idea of the predator's sex. Shamarese
creatures showed no outward signs of gender, since they lacked any
form of external organs.

Chanter was
disinclined to enquire on such a delicate matter, so opted to think
of Nog as male. Nog wound his way through the strange plants,
giving some a wider berth than others, and Chanter followed his
lead. The world darkened as the moon swallowed the sun, and stars
glimmered. Chanter gazed up at the amazing galaxy that filled this
sky. A vast, sprawling nebula of young suns spiralled in an orgy of
stellar creation. The stars were so thick that at the centre they
made up a solid mass of white light.

As they walked,
Nog explained, "The little shelled ones only make their journey to
feed at eclipse, which happens every day. At this time, the plants
are less vigilant, so it's safer. They feed, then return to their
burrows in a rock cliff."

"Why don't they
fly?"

"They can't.
They've lost the ability."

"Why not travel
at night?"

Nog glanced
back. "It's too dangerous. Many of the deadlier plants become
active at night. Eclipse is the safest time."

"Are there no
intelligent creatures here?"

"Not animals,
no. They're just mobile plant food, and if any of the plants are
intelligent, we have no way of communicating with them."

Chanter shook
his head in wonder. "What manner of god would create such a strange
world?"

"One who likes
plants?"

The Mujar
smiled as Nog pushed through a barrier of black and red fronds,
leading him onto the beach of a plasma sea. It stretched away to
purple mountains on the horizon, an expanse of heaving, glowing,
chaotic jelly-like liquid that seethed with life. A feeding frenzy
was underway, and the brilliant amber plasma could hardly be seen
for all the creatures that consumed it. The tiny crabs were piled
three deep along the shore, shovelling the plasma into their mouths
with their pincers.

Delicate,
bird-like creatures strolled across the quivering surface on thin
legs that ended in enormous feet, pecking at the plasma with long
beaks. Several bloated, seal-like animals swam in it, kept afloat
by air bags along their flanks and using flippers to paddle through
the slime. Many other animals joined the feast, some of which
defied description. Flying creatures swooped down to skim the
surface and scoop up mouthfuls of plasma, others hung under
balloons and dropped long tubes down to suck it up. All
concentrated on eating as quickly as they could, and no squabbles
broke out.

Chanter watched
the scene with deep fascination. Perhaps strangest of all were the
plants that grew along the edge of the plasma sea, fishing for
their food with long whip-like appendages or sucker-covered
tentacles. Some swiped at the flying beasts with almost invisible
nets, others used suction to ensnare their prey. Surprisingly,
there was little noise other than the occasional squeak of a
trapped creature and the slaps and pops of the feeding plants.
Chanter found the sight bizarre and slightly macabre, but this was
a new experience, and he absorbed it in all its weird detail.
Obviously none of these creatures, either plant or animal, had any
control over the elements.

The animals
were much like Lowman beasts, driven to eat and reproduce as much
as possible to feed the carnivorous plants. They displayed a
remarkable lack of intelligence in their inept attempts to avoid
the plants' traps. The plants were far too alien for him to judge
their intelligence, if any. From the air's poor quality, he deduced
that the carnivorous plants relied upon their consumption of meat
for energy, and did not use photosynthesis. What little air there
was seemed to be the product of the aquamarine grass, which
appeared to be a true plant. The whole system was rather chaotic
and pointless, as if a bungling child god had started to create an
impossible world, then grown bored and left it half finished. The
plants were, in his opinion, monstrosities, and the animals ugly
and ill designed.

Nog stood
nearby, watching the scene without interest, and occasionally
yawned or scratched. He showed no impatience, but was clearly
growing bored as time dragged by, since he did not share the
Mujar's fascination. A tentacle brushed him, and he bit it, causing
it to writhe away.