The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (9 page)

"Tell me what
you know," Chanter said.

"We could live
on this world all our lives and not know everything about it. The
animals feed on the many plasma seas, which seem to ooze from the
ground, for it never runs out. The plants eat the animals, except
for a few that are true plants, like the crimson forests and the
grass. The plants never eat each other, but they do sometimes kill
others to thin out the competition. Those further away from the
seas use scent to lure their prey, and the animals here seem
incredibly stupid. For the creatures of our world, this is a safe
place, with good soil and plenty of sun and water. The plants don't
harm us, perhaps because we are akin to plants as well as animals,
and they don't see us as rivals." Nog stood on his hind legs,
raising himself to Chanter's eye level. "I have not been home for
some time. How fares Shamarese?"

The Mujar
shrugged. "Little has changed. To return now would be folly."

Nog looked
away. "I long to return. We all do."

"You will, soon
enough."

"I'm old,
Mujar. I feel certain my next journey will be to the Lake of
Dreams."

Nog glanced up
at the sky, where the sun emerged from behind the jagged moon. As
the light increased, the animals feeding on the plasma disappeared
with remarkable speed. The little crabs scuttled away, the flying
creatures drifted upwards to the safety of the high ethers, and the
others crawled, strode or wriggled into the undergrowth. Within
minutes, the plasma sea was a calm pool of thick liquid. Curious,
Chanter scooped up a handful and tasted it. The sickly sweet,
bitter flavour made him grimace and spit it out. Nog's skin mottled
and his neck fronds waved with amusement.

"It's poison to
us, Mujar. Lucky you're undying."

Chanter wiped
his mouth, wishing there was water to rinse it with, since the
plasma left a nasty aftertaste he sensed would linger for some
time. "Where did they all go?" He gestured to the plasma,
indicating the vanished beasts.

"Underground.
It's the only place that's safe from the plants, unless they use
their roots to hunt as well. Apart from the flyers, they all have
warrens of burrows not far from the beach, and live together in
communities. The little shelled ones live further away, but I'm not
sure why."

"Are there many
of our people here?"

"Lots, but they
stay away from the plasma seas. It's more peaceful on the
plains."

"Show me."

Nog spread his
wings. "Quicker if we fly."

The predator
ran along the beach and leapt into the air, invoking Ashmar.
Chanter followed, changing into an eagle with a rush of wind and
the faint sound of beating wings, his invocation of the Power
stronger than Nog's. Again he experienced the split second of
stretching and shrinking, along with a flood of information to
guide him in the use of his new shape. The plants shrank away from
his power, showing an alien dislike for it.

Nog led Chanter
across the plasma sea, floating higher without effort and using his
wings to drive himself forward. The thin, calm air lacked winds and
thermals on which to soar. Unlike Nog, the Mujar could not use
Ashmar to defy gravity, but had to beat his wings to keep himself
aloft. Passing over the jungle at the sea's edge, they soared above
sparsely wooded land covered with aquamarine grass. A craggy cliff
that spewed a crystal waterfall into a black pool passed below, and
they climbed higher to glide above a plateau of velvet
blue-greenness.

Chanter swooped
down to land close to a scattered host of rainbow-hued beasts. He
changed back into a man and gazed at the gentle animals with a deep
sense of fondness and kinship. It pleased him to see so many
creatures from his world feeding in the sun, even in this alien
land. Those closest to him hooted soft greetings, and several came
closer and raised their fronds, offering food.

Their delicious
scent made Chanter's mouth water, and his stomach growled. Nog
plucked fronds and munched them, and the Mujar followed suit. Some
of the beasts had young at foot, spindly babies with overlong legs
and necks that spread immature wings to catch the sun. The
youngsters stayed close to their parents, learning from them.
Shamarese beasts cared for their offspring for many years, and
stayed together as a family group until the parents died, then the
youngsters would seek mates.

Chanter folded
his legs and sat down to watch the mating dance of a pair of
rainbow beasts. They gambolled around each other with fluid grace,
their stilt-like legs looking too delicate and ungainly to perform
such athletic antics. They had invoked Ashmar, and used it to leap
and float in lazy arcs, fanning the air with their wings to propel
themselves in a stately display of elegance. Their rainbow skins
glowed with excitement and ardour, to impress their mate with their
beauty and allure. Chanter surmised, from the duration and
complexity of their courtship, that this was their first attempt.
Their chests glowed deep crimson, indicating that they were in
blossom.

Their dance
slowed until they stood with twined necks, then they broke apart
and reared. In unison, their chests swelled and burst open,
blossoming into flowers of pale, iridescent delicacy filled with a
soft, pulsing glow. The flowers puffed out fine, glittering
filaments, merging in a golden cloud of pollen as the beasts
pressed together in a quick movement, then dropped to all fours
again.

The flowers,
open only for the moment of pollination, wilted and shrivelled, the
petals dropped off and the skin sealed once more. The flowers'
exotic scent drifted to Chanter on the still air, a strangely
familiar fragrance, even though he had not smelt it before. The
pair walked away together, then stopped to push their pointed legs
into the soil and spread their wings, settling down to feed.

A pair would
breed twice, maybe three times, in their lives. No more offspring
were needed in a world where creatures only died of old age or the
occasional accident. Chanter compared them to Truemen's savage
predators, whose swift, graceful forms were good to wear, but their
cruel ways repulsed him. Trueman animals had to breed at an
extraordinary rate to keep their races from extinction, since they
were hunted or died from starvation and disease. It seemed an
unfortunate life path; an endless cycle of mating, feeding,
birthing and dying, all to feed others, or to keep others from
overpopulating the world. Truemen had, for the most part, opted out
of this cycle, but although they were rarely preyed upon, they
still bred at a remarkable rate.

Shamarese
animals bred late in life and died after their final offspring was
fully grown. They enjoyed their lives, explored and learnt, sang
under the moon and played in the sun, never knowing prey's terror
or hunter's hunger. They possessed profound knowledge and were at
one with their world, with no need to reshape or ravage it. Sadly,
they were now forced to live in the Lakes to escape Trueman
savagery. Most of the beasts here were not breeding, just living in
safety.

Chanter looked
around for Nog, who had wandered off to play with another of his
kind. The Mujar sighed, saddened that here, amongst his kind, he
was almost an outcast, welcomed, yet wearing an enemy's form. The
stifling calm engendered a creeping lethargy that made him want to
stretch out in the sun and close his eyes, but the cold of Dolana
prevented him. He gazed at the rainbow beasts again, frowning.
There was something odd about them, but he was unable to fathom it.
He watched Nog play with his friend for a while, then turned to
study the basking beasts again.

Some wandered
about, talking to neighbours in their hooting speech, others played
with their young or indulged in mutual grooming with their mates.
Then it struck him. Only three kinds of rainbow beasts were here,
all of whom drew nourishment through their root legs and
occasionally ate mud. A few predators like Nog moved amongst them,
but no others. Curious, he sent a ripple through the Dolana to Nog,
rather like throwing a pebble to catch someone's attention. Nog
slouched over with his swaying gait, settled on his haunches beside
Chanter and tilted his head in a quizzical fashion.

"Where are the
rest of our people?" Chanter asked.

"Not here," Nog
said. "This Lake is not suitable for plant eaters. There are no
edible plants here. Even the grass is poison, and I wouldn't advise
anyone to try to eat one of those animal hunters."

"Of course. I
should have guessed."

"Most of the
plant eaters are in the Lake of Joy, which is filled with food.
Great fruits the size of a Lowman house grow there, and there's
only one species of native beast, similar to a clandar, but much
bigger."

Nog named a
Shamarese beast that spent most of its life as a fat,
pearly-skinned grub that fed on fruits and tubers. It metamorphosed
into a winged creature that looked a lot like a massive transparent
flower. When they blossomed, they performed a complicated aerial
ballet during which the males released their pollen, then the
females laid their eggs and they all died - a little like Lowman
butterflies.

"I'd like to
visit it one day," Chanter said.

"It's not as
interesting as this Lake, and dull compared to some of the
others."

"Tell me about
them."

"That would
take a long time, Mujar."

"I have time."
Chanter frowned, remembering the Lowman girl. "Is time the same
here as in Shamarese?"

"No. It passes
a little slower here."

The Mujar
glanced at the sun, which had moved a fair distance across the sky
since his arrival. He had been here longer than he had thought.
"Then I should leave soon. But tell me one more thing. Doesn't the
imbalance here bother you?"

Chanter had
discovered that his awareness of the lack of Ashmar became more
acute as time passed. The warm stillness was debilitating, even for
him, and he wondered how the other beasts coped.

Nog's skin
flushed in a smile. "There's a night wind on this world. The days
are a little unpleasant, but the nights are glorious."

"The Ashmar
grows stronger?"

"No, it can't,
of course. This world lacks Ashmar, but when the night wind blows
you hardly notice the scarcity. It's hard to describe. The wind is
cold and screams across the land in a fury, invigorating whatever
it touches. It's an angry spirit that fears the sun."

"Strange."
Chanter glanced at the sun again. "Tell me a little more about the
Lake of Joy."

Nog gave a
fluting snort. "It is ill named, if you ask me. I only went there
once, and I wouldn't visit again. As I said, it's a place of food,
but there's so much that the air is always filled with the stench
of rot. Like this world, it's dominated by plants, but it's hot and
humid, lacking in Dolana. I never saw solid ground, only a bubbling
quagmire of mud that produces a profusion of plants so huge and
dense we have to perch atop them to find the sun. None of the Lakes
are as perfect as Shamarese."

"I suppose not.
Does this world have a name?"

"Probably, but
we call it Dyanga."

Chanter smiled
at the name, which meant 'breathless'. He rose and stretched. "I
suppose I must go back."

"Rejoice that
you can." Nog regarded him wistfully. "How much longer will it
be?"

"It has
begun."

Joyful colours
raced across the predator's skin. "That is welcome news. The others
will be pleased."

Chanter
inclined his head. "Perhaps I'll see you again."

"Perhaps.
Farewell, Mujar."

Nog returned to
his friend, leaving Chanter to gaze around at this strange world
one last time. As soon as he decided to leave the Lake, a new god
word sprang into his mind, and he spoke it as he stepped
forward.

Chapter Five

The world's
fabric rippled as he emerged into the icy wind of the Shamarese
winter, his feet sinking into soft snow. He was not far from the
Lowman girl's camp, as he had wished. He savoured the familiar
balance and order of Shamarese, then glanced at the sky. The moon
sank towards distant mountains, but dawn was still a few hours
away. He was tempted to return to the Lake and take advantage of
this rare opportunity to explore one. Tomorrow he would travel on,
leaving the Lake of Renewal behind, perhaps forever.

As he stood
irresolute, Earthpower sounded a warning in his mind, like the
clang of a great bell. Chanter turned his head to listen, tuning
his mind to the stream of wind and earth speech. Leaping into the
air, he summoned Ashmar and transformed into a snowy owl. Spreading
his newly-acquired wings, he rose with a great down stroke and
climbed into the sky on silent, silken feathers.

Without Dolana
the alarm no longer reached him, but the way was clear. The air
yielded to his wings with subtle resistance, buoying him up and
speeding him on his way as he twisted between looming black tree
trunks and snow-laden boughs. Swooping and veering, he powered
higher with swift wing beats, his eyes narrowed against the rush of
freezing air. He sailed through the icy forest to the dark
tent.

Chanter glided
down and landed in a spray of powder snow, summoning Ashmar with a
lash of mind power. As the whisper of wings faded, he straightened
and looked around. A dire bear stood not ten paces from the tent,
idly sharpening his claws on a tree. The massive animal spotted
Chanter and grunted, studying him with myopic brown eyes. The Mujar
smiled and walked over to his shaggy brother to scratch the rough
fur between the beast's eyes. The dire bear moaned with pleasure
and lifted a mighty clawed paw to swat Chanter, who danced
aside.

The bear
dropped to all fours and pursued him with friendly grunts. Chanter
laughed and skipped away. The playful chase ended when he stumbled
into a deep snowdrift and the bear pinned him down with massive
forepaws to lick the Mujar's face. Chanter endured the warm wet
caress for a time, then pushed the animal away. The dire bear
retreated, shaking his head and moaning. He did not want to leave,
but Chanter used a brief mind-lock to send him back to his
foraging.