Children of Another God tbw-1

by T C Southwell

  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. Cha
nter 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.

  A glance at the sky told Chanter that the moon was setting and dawn not far off. Stripping off his tunic and leggings, he rolled in the snow, scrubbing himself with handfuls that turned to water on his skin. By the time he finished and donned his clothes again, the dawn's first pink tinge brightened the sky.

  Talsy woke blissfully warm, and snuggled closer to the source. Smiling, she opened her eyes to find Chanter stretched out next to her, keeping most of himself off the ground by resting on one elbow. He shot her a smile, then rose and struggled out of the tent, almost pulling it down on top of her. Untangling himself from the strings, he settled on a rock.

  Talsy glared at him, wishing he would stay and keep her warm. Yawning, she wrapped her coat more firmly around herself and crawled out to stretch in the pale morning sun. Firewood filled the fire pit, and, as she scooped snow into a pot, Chanter leant forward to place his hand on the wood. Talsy braced herself for the momentary sensation of being in the heart of an inferno.

  The Mujar smiled as she placed the pot on the flames. While the snow melted, she pulled down the tent and packed it, then made tea and cut slices of bread. Chanter's night in the wild seemed to have done him good. His hair glittered, his skin glowed and his eyes sparkled. He seemed to be deep in private thoughts, and they ate breakfast in silence. Talsy packed away the pot and cups, dreading another day of slogging through the snow.

  "Can you ride?"

  Chanter's question startled her, and she swung to face him. "Yes, why?" She had ridden her father's shaggy pony many times.

  He smiled and nodded. "Good. Take a deep breath and hold it."

  Talsy obeyed without question, and Chanter bent to touch his hands to the ground. The icy silence of Earthpower clamped down, solidifying the air with terrifying suddenness. As the moment of frozen stillness passed, she let out her breath in a sigh. Chanter had vanished, and before her stood the most magnificent black stallion she had ever seen. He turned a finely chiselled head towards her and gazed at her with silver-blue eyes.

  Talsy grinned and went to stroke his glossy coat. Chanter pawed the ground with a flinty hoof, and she got the message. She slung the heavy bag over his back and regarded his tall withers with a sceptical eye. He lifted a foreleg, making a step with which she struggled onto his back, using his long glossy mane to pull herself up. As soon as she was settled aboard, he set off across the snowy landscape.

  Talsy patted and stroked him, then was forced to clutch his thick mane when he broke into a canter. Although the icy wind nipped at her nose and cheeks, his warm back kept her cosy. Soon he found a narrow trail, and his hooves rang on the frozen ground in a steady rhythm. The trail wound amongst craggy rocks and plunged down steep icy banks, which Chanter slid down on his haunches while Talsy clung to his mane with her heart in her throat. He ploughed tirelessly through deep drifts and climbed hills of sliding snow. Several times, Talsy almost slipped off, and he sidestepped to prevent her from falling.

  On the lower slopes, they found a wider track and clattered along it, passing a log cabin with smoke curling from its chimney. As they cantered away, a faint cry made Talsy look back. A woman ran after them, waving and calling.

  "Chanter, stop," Talsy ordered.

  The stallion's ears flicked back. The woman wailed and fell to her knees.

  "Chanter, please stop!"

  The Mujar slowed and stopped, steam rolling up his flanks. Talsy ran back to the kneeling woman. "What is it?"

  The woman clutched her, raising a tear-stained face. "My husband hasn't returned from the hunt. He left five days ago! Please help me!"

  "What can I do?"

  The woman glanced at Chanter. "You could take us to the village. We have no food, and the children are hungry!"

  Talsy looked at the house, where three scared faces peered from the doorway, then glanced down the trail at Chanter, knowing the Mujar would not want to help.

  "Don't you have a pony?" she asked.

  The sobbing woman shook her head.

  Talsy sighed and glanced at Chanter again. "Wait here." As she headed towards the stallion, he walked away. "Wait, Chanter."

  The Mujar ignored her, and she ran after him and grabbed his tail. Still he continued to walk, dragging her along. She dug in her heels, but he towed her until she tripped over a rock. She slid on her chest, hanging onto his long tail.

  "Chanter, please stop!"

  The Mujar snorted, and she released his tail to lie despairing in his wake before she jumped up and ran after him again.

  "Please, let's help her. She'll die alone in that hut!"

  The stallion laid back his ears and kept walking. Talsy ran alongside and grabbed his mane, trying to stop him with brute force. He shook her off, and she floundered into a snowdrift. Spitting snow, she clambered out and ran after him.

  "Please change. I want to talk to you." She groaned when he ignored her. "Damn it, Chanter, don't prove my father right!"

  The Mujar stopped and turned to gaze at her with sad eyes, then raised a foreleg. She climbed onto his back, and he set off down the trail again. Talsy cursed, thumping him. He gave a little buck, bouncing her, and she clung to his mane. She looked back, thinking of the woman they had left to die with her starving children.

  "She had children, you know. Helpless babies. You won't kill, but you won't help either, will you?"

  The stallion laid back his ears and bucked again, forcing her into reluctant silence.

  They had travelled about three miles down the trail when they found the dead hunter and his frozen kill. Chanter would have walked around them and continued on, but she slid from his back, twisting her ankle. She glared at him when he stopped a little further on and turned to look at her. Hobbling to the corpses, she found that the hunter had been gored terribly, and died struggling to drag his kill home to his family. Saddened by his noble, futile efforts, she looked at the Mujar.

  "If we take this back to the house. The woman will have enough food to last the winter if she uses it sparingly."

  Chanter pawed the ground, arching his massive neck.

  Talsy hobbled to him and fell to her knees. "Chanter, please! Surely our clan bond means you'll help me if I ask? Will you help me to take this bog boar back to the house? Is that too much to ask?"

  Chanter sighed twin clouds of steam, his head sagging, then walked past her and stood beside the bog boar carcass with a hangdog air. She hobbled after him and pried the rope from the dead hunter's frozen hands, tying it around the stallion's neck. The Mujar walked back along the trail, towing the frozen boar while Talsy hobbled in his wake.

  By the time they reached the house, she gasped and her ankle throbbed. At the sound of their approach the door flew open and the woman ran out with a glad cry.

  "I thought you'd left us to die!"

  Talsy smiled. "Sorry, I had trouble catching my horse. I found your husband down the trail, with this." She indicated the carcass. "It should feed you for the winter."

  "Thank you, child, and bless you!" The woman untied the rope from Chanter's neck, and the three children emerged to stare at the black stallion.

  "You're very kind," the woman chattered, "I knew he was dead after two days had passed. He was a good provider, even to the end." She smiled at Talsy as she pulled the rope free. "You have a lovely horse, child, though he seems to be asleep."

  Chanter's eyes were closed and his head drooped. The woman patted his neck, and Talsy cringed inwardly.

  "Beautiful animal," the woman went on. "Mind no one steals him. Why doesn't he open his eyes?"

  The woman was far too curious, and Talsy said, "I must be going; got a long journey ahead."

  The woman nodded, scrutinising Chanter. A child stumbled into his hind legs, and he opened his eyes. The woman shrieked and jumped back.

 
"Mujar!"

  The children screamed and ran for the house as the woman bent to pick up a rock. "Damned Mujar scum!" She hurled it at Chanter's head, but the stallion bolted into the woods.

  Talsy grabbed her as she scooped up another stone. "Stop it! He helped you!"

  The woman turned to her. "What are you doing with a Mujar? You stupid girl! Do you want to be damned forever?" She grabbed Talsy's arm. "Stay here with us, for your own good!"

  Talsy wrenched free. "Leave me alone!"

  Evading the woman's grasping hands, she hurried after Chanter as fast as her injured ankle would allow.

  The woman's screams followed her. "You'll be sorry! He'll break your heart! They have no feelings! They're not like us! He'll leave you to die in the wilderness! Mujar scum!"

  Talsy sagged with relief when she found Chanter waiting further down the trail. He lifted a foreleg, and she scrambled onto his back, leaning forward to hug his neck.

  "Thank you."

  At dusk, the stallion stopped beside a massive tree. She dismounted, giving a choked cry as her ankle sent a shaft of pain up her leg. Pulling off the bag, she took a deep breath. The world froze as the icy surge of Earthpower clamped down, forcing a moment of utter stillness before it vanished as swiftly as it had come.

  Talsy threw her arms around Chanter and pressed her cheek to his chest. "I'm sorry."

  He shifted, patting her shoulder. "What for now?"

  She released him and stepped back. "For that dreadful woman, throwing rocks at you."

  He shrugged. "That's okay. I've had worse things thrown at me."

  "Is that why you didn't want to help?"

  "No."

  Talsy turned to unpack the bag. "The same reason you'd have left me to die with a broken leg?"

  "Yes." Chanter settled on a rock. "She hadn't earned my help, and nor would she have wanted it if she'd known what I was at the outset. Most Truemen hate Mujar."