“I don’t understand.”
“Then you’d better start pondering the problem, if you want to live.”
Kieran stared at him, confused, and the old Mujar gazed out to sea again.
Talsy wandered through the pearly flowers, absorbing the astounding peace of the Lake of Dreams. Although they had walked for some time, the landscape remained constant, with no landmarks to gauge their progress. She wondered if they were going in circles when three hazy golden lights appeared beside them. She clutched Chanter’s arm, drawing his attention to the lights. The Mujar smiled.
“What are those?” she asked.
“Souls.”
“Whose?”
“They’re Truemen, but there’s no way of knowing the names they bore in life. Even they don’t know,” he explained, unperturbed.
“How do you know they’re Truemen souls?”
“Mujar are brighter.”
Talsy studied the hazy lights, searching for some identity, but finding none. “Can’t they speak?”
“They can, but they probably have nothing to say.”
“Then why are they following us?”
He shrugged. “Curiosity, perhaps. They can’t harm you. There’s no need to be afraid.”
“Haven’t they seen living people before?”
“Not in the Lake of Dreams. Few of the living ever venture in here. It’s the place of the dead, and for some reason the living fear the dead.”
“They’re creepy, not frightening.” She shivered. “Could they be people I used to know?”
He shook his head. “Truemen dead have no memories. They wouldn’t know you now, even if they did once.”
“I thought the mist was the souls of the dead?”
“It is, but they can become visible if they choose. Those that aren’t interested in us have remained mist, only these few have chosen to show themselves.”
“Can we leave now?”
“Sure.” Chanter spoke a word and stepped forward. In one stride they left the Lake of Dreams and emerged onto a windswept plateau surrounded by towering, snow-capped peaks.
Talsy looked back, expecting to see some trace of the Lake from which they had just come, but only a panoramic vista of distant golden plains greeted her. She walked back a few steps, straining her senses to detect some tangible evidence that the Lake even existed, but found nothing. Chanter watched her with a smile, amused by her antics.
“You can’t sense it.”
“But you can,” she said. “And how do you know the god words that let you in and out? You said you couldn’t speak the language of the gods.”
“I can’t. The words come to me when I need them and vanish afterwards, like when I stopped the stone from climbing the trees where you hid.”
She nodded. “How will the chosen get out?”
“They’re in the gods’ hands, and when their testing is over, those who survive will come forth at the gods’ behest.”
“And if the gods choose to give us entry into the Lakes, as you said they might, will we also know the god words when we wish to enter them?”
“Of course,” he said. “How else would you? You’ll also be able to sense them; otherwise you wouldn’t be able to find them.”
She brushed aside a lock of hair, turning to face the bitter wind. “When Truemen are no longer a threat to the creatures of this world, the lakes won’t be needed anymore, will they? Not as havens from us. Why don’t the gods just incorporate them into the rest of reality?”
Chanter chuckled and found a rock to settle on, the wind whipping his hair. “So many questions, as usual, my little clan.” He pondered the bleak landscape. “For one thing, the gods can’t incorporate the lakes into this reality, since they’re part of a different dimension. For another, if they incorporated the Lake of Dreams, the dead would inhabit the same dimension as us, and walk the world as ghosts. They dwell in the lake until they’re reborn to learn more of life’s lessons. The other lakes are new, created to protect the creatures of this world, but the Lake of Dreams has been here since creation.”
“And what happens when they’ve learnt everything that there is?” she asked.
“Then they join with the gods to become part of the great spiritual union. Those who learn the lessons poorly will be sent back again and again, others will progress quite quickly, but for all, it takes many lifetimes. The old souls are always the wisest, and most of the chosen who will survive this test will be old souls, like you. Some younger ones will succeed too, usually those who have suffered much and learnt their lessons swiftly.”
Talsy was startled. “I’m an old soul?”
“Very old, but even you have much to learn. A soul dwells in many forms during its long ascension, starting off as a tiny spark in the lowliest of creatures. Gradually it’s reborn into more and more complex creatures, learning and suffering along the way. When finally it’s born into a man, it becomes self-aware, and sometimes retains vague memories of its past lives, which usually come to it in dreams. Have you ever had dreams of flying or running from danger?”
“Yes, occasionally.”
“Those are memories of past lives when you were able to fly as a bird, or perhaps were hunted as a rabbit or deer. Once it reaches this ultimate stage, the soul is reborn many times to ensure that the final lessons are learnt. A soul must attain great spiritual awareness before it’s worthy of joining with the gods, and many fail.”
“What happens to them?”
“They’re cast into the Lake of Fire, and destroyed.”
Talsy frowned at him, rubbing her arms with a shiver. “Which god will we become part of, yours, or our own?”
He smiled up at her. “After this, you’ll be the adopted children of my gods, and live according to their laws.”
Talsy turned away to gaze across the bleak landscape, searching for some sign of the chosen emerging from the Lake of Dreams. “How long before the others arrive? And where are Drummer and Dancer?”
“They’ll be along. They’re either still ensuring that the chosen enter the Lake, or they’re exploring it. The young are curious.”
She faced him, envying his immunity to the freezing wind. “I’m cold.”
He held out a hand. “Come, I’ll share my Crayash with you.”
She cuddled up to him, and they waited on the vast grassy plateau for the chosen to emerge from the Lake of Dreams.
Kieran had lain on the beach for five days, and he wondered if Talsy was worried about him yet. She had Chanter to comfort her, however, and he was all she had ever wanted. In the last few weeks, he had noticed the tender, covetous glances she had given the Mujar, and knew that their relationship had progressed beyond friendship. A part of him pitied her hopeless infatuation with the cold-hearted alien; another resented the Mujar for the ease with which he held her unwanted love. Either way, he had lost her, for as long as Chanter gave her even part of what she longed for, she would never turn from him.
Raising his head, he looked around for the elderly Mujar who had stood vigil over him for the last few days. Chanter stood on the wet sand, the waves lapping his feet as they rushed up the beach and then retreated with a sigh. Hunger and thirst had weakened Kieran; in fact, he hardly had the strength to raise his head. Hours of struggling had chafed his wrists raw, and his skin had reddened in the sun, then blistered and cracked. Soon he would die, of that he was certain, and the old Mujar would watch him with expressionless, uncaring eyes. He almost hated the unman who had stood by and watched him suffer. Even though he knew the Mujar had not tied him down, he would not set him free, either
Kieran let his head fall back with a groan, closing his eyes against the endless glare of the sky. A shadow fell on him, and he looked up into Chanter’s pitiless face.
“I’m going now,” the old Mujar said. “You haven’t found the way to be free, and soon your time will be up. It seems I’m wasting mine.”
Kieran tried to speak, croaked, and tried again. “Wait.”
The Mujar paused in the act of turning away.
Kieran begged, “Give me a clue, please.”
“No.”
“Damn you!”
Chanter tilted his head. “Do you hate me now?”
“No,” the Prince growled, “I’m indifferent, just like you.”
“Good. But that won’t save you.”
“Then what will?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Chanter turned and walked away, his footprints wiped out by the waves. Kieran stared after him, his last hope dwindling with the retreating figure. He strained at the ropes with the last of his strength, flopping back with a groan. Turning his head, he watched the Mujar shrink as the distance between them increased. Chanter did not look back. The Prince closed his eyes and relaxed, resigning himself to his fate. He wondered why Mujar were so inexplicable. What made them stand by and watch a man die when they could so easily help him? He remembered Dancer’s sorrowful eyes and rueful words. No Wish. He had wanted to help, but could not without a Wish. He had fled to escape Kieran’s suffering, because he loved him. It made no sense. Yet when Kieran had watched him dragged away, beaten and bleeding, making no attempt to help him, Dancer had forgiven him. The Prince smiled, remembering the wonderful fulfilment of forgiveness.
Opening his eyes a slit, he searched the empty horizon for the distant figure of the old Mujar. Peace invaded him, his anger ran away like rain soaking into parched earth, and he whispered, “I forgive you.”
Kieran stumbled from the Lake of Dreams and fell to his knees on the cold grass of the plateau. A chill wind stung his skin and tugged at his clothes as he looked around in confusion. A swift examination found no sunburn, and no chafe marks on his wrists. His hunger and thirst had vanished as if by magic, and he looked up. Talsy hurried towards him, Chanter following more slowly. He rose to his feet before she reached him, returning her hug somewhat distractedly.
“I made it,” he muttered, still dazed by the transition.
“Of course you did!” she exclaimed. “Chanter said you would.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” Chanter studied the Prince.
Kieran gathered his wits and met the Mujar’s steady gaze. The silence hung between them like a veil, then Kieran nodded. “Perhaps I do. Is that what it’s all about? Forgiveness?”
Chanter smiled. “That was your lesson. Each is tested in a different way. Forgiveness, love, tolerance, compassion, or courage.”
“I didn’t know that!” Talsy protested. “Why was I chosen?”
“You forgave. No one knows what their weaknesses are before the gods test them. At times you got angry, but that’s allowed. Strangely, Kieran was chosen because of his indifference. He didn’t hate us, even though he never forgave his friend Dancer for abandoning him in the forest.”
“I have now,” Kieran said.
“Ah, you saw him?”
The Prince nodded. “I feel so much better.”
Chanter clapped Kieran on the shoulder, and the Prince smiled without any trace of his previous tension.
The Mujar said, “Forgiveness is the greatest gift of all, next to love. It washes away bitterness and anger, fills the soul with peace and tranquillity, and negates the reasons for strife. Merely by forgiving our inaction and accepting our strange ways, Truemen could have earned the help they so desperately longed for, but instead, they hated us. For Mujar, forgiveness is natural, although we do feel anger when we are made to suffer at the hands of others for no reason. It’s hard to explain. We forgive those who torture us, but rage at their cruelty. Almost, we’re angry with the god who created you so imperfect, so unforgiving.”
“It’s difficult to forgive someone who walks away and leaves you to die,” Kieran muttered.
“Tests are never easy. If they were, there would be little point in having them. Do you feel at peace with yourself now?”
“Yes.” The Prince unbuckled the Starsword and let it fall. “I don’t need this anymore. I won’t be fighting again.”
Chanter bent to scoop up the sword, turning it in his hands. “Having it doesn’t mean you have to kill with it. It’s a symbol of our friendship, a gift from me to you. Don’t be so quick to cast aside a thing of such value merely because it’s a weapon of war. A weapon isn’t dangerous unless it’s wielded, and no law commands you to use it for destruction. Remember, the Starsword also heals.”
Kieran paled with mortification. “You’re right, I was too hasty.” He held out his hand for the sword. “I’ll always treasure it; what I should have said was I won’t ever use it to do harm again.”
“I understand.” Chanter handed back the sword. “Your gesture was well meant, and well taken. Let this be a symbol of the past, a reminder of what has gone before. Let it never be raised in anger again.”
The Prince bowed his head. “It shall be so.”
Several hours passed before all the survivors of the Lake of Dreams emerged, and Talsy was horrified at their number. Less than a third of the Truemen had survived the gods’ testing, and they appeared timid and tearful, many comforting each other for the loss of friends and family. Queen Kamish survived, but neither Roth nor Ardel did, and only two of her men. Sheera emerged weeping, and clung to Shern afterwards. Few casualties had stricken the Aggapae, none of whom Talsy knew. King Ronos lost his son, Orland, but Merina survived, as did her son, Urlik. Kieran swept his mother into his arms and begged her forgiveness for his prior rejection, while she wept tears of joy and shame.
Drummer and Dancer came over to their father as he surveyed the people who sat, dull eyed, or wandered around aimlessly in the bitter wind. They stood patiently, joining him in his silent contemplation. Chanter turned from his perusal when Talsy spoke.
“They’re changed, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “For the moment they’re sad and confused, but with time they’ll grow to accept and value the lessons they’ve learnt. Tomorrow the Hashon Jahar will arrive.”
“How can you three destroy the Hashon Jahar? You refused to do it before, even when they threatened you. How can you do it now?”
“When they arrive here, it will be time. The souls they carry are unchosen, but their punishment is now over, and they long for release from their suffering. To have destroyed the Hashon Jahar before would have condemned the souls to be cast into the Lake of Fire, for they would not have paid their penance. Now it’s time for their redemption.”
“On the Plains of Redemption,” she murmured, astounded. “Is that why the gods named this place? Did they know what would happen here? When did they give it that name?”
The Mujar smiled and shook his head. “No, they didn’t plan this until they decided to test your people, and sent Mujar amongst them. The plain got its name long before, from the wingless silver bird that fell from the sky, and landed over there somewhere.” He gestured vaguely. “Its name was Redemption.”
“Really?” She gazed in the direction he had indicated. “Can we go and see it?”
“Not now. There’s not much to see, anyway, it’s been lying there for so long. When this is all over, I’ll show you.”
Talsy hid her disappointment and left the Mujar to find her friends and offer them comfort. The Aggapae’s horses found their riders at sunset, and the plains rang with joyful shouts and neighs of welcome. A cold and cheerless night stretched ahead, and the chosen huddled around guttering fires or crammed into the tents the horses had brought. Food and water were in short supply, but no one complained. As Talsy walked amongst them, she was struck by the gentle sadness in their eyes and the serenity on their faces. The chosen, it seemed, had discovered a whole new way of life, so much so that she wondered if they had not outstripped her in spiritual learning. She was invited into a tent with Sheera, Kamish, Danya, Merina, Urlik and three other women, packed together for warmth. All the tents were filled with women and children, while the men braved the cold and huddled around the fires.
In the tent
, Sheera stared ahead with sad eyes, and Talsy sat beside her, putting a comforting arm around the old woman. The seer turned to smile at her, and Talsy was amazed at the tranquillity in her eyes.
“I don’t understand my test,” Sheera confided, “but I feel so much better now.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She nodded. “I think I was in a Pit, for it was dark and cold, but I could see the Mujar in the oil, hundreds of them. One held out his hand, and I tried to pull him from the oil, but he was very heavy, so much so that I feared I would be pulled in with him, so I let go. Immediately, I knew I had made a mistake. I had failed, so I reached out again and grabbed him. I pulled and pulled, even though I made no progress, and there were so many others, it seemed an impossible task. I wanted to run away, for I couldn’t help them, no matter how hard I tried.”
She sighed, and a tear crept down her weathered cheek. “But I didn’t want to give up, so I kept trying and trying. It seemed like days I spent there, and my arm was ready to drop off, when he came free and stood beside me. He was the one I loved, my Kuran, and he hugged me... I looked around at all the others, and reached out for another. He stopped me and said that one was enough, and I had found the courage I had lacked all those years ago, and that he’d forgiven me, even then.”
Talsy was mystified. “What did he mean?”
Sheera dabbed her eyes. “When he was taken to the Pits, they staked him out in the village for two days and nights. All I had to do was free him, but I was afraid. I thought the risk too great. I didn’t have the courage. I was too frightened for my own life.”
“I see. And you feel better now?”
Sheera nodded. “I found the courage I lacked, and I realised that saving him was more important than saving myself. I’ve been filled with guilt and sorrow, until now. And he forgave me, too. I never knew that. I always thought he would hate me for failing him.”
Talsy gave her a sympathetic hug. “I’m glad.”
“The next thing I knew, I was in this deserted village, wandering through the empty streets,” Sheera went on. “There was no one there, but Kuran walked beside me, and I held a golden chain that bound him to me. I was happy that he was with me, but he looked so sad. I asked him what he’d do if I let him go, and he said that he’d fly away. I didn’t want him to leave me. I would be alone without him, but I couldn’t bear to see him so miserable, so I took off the chain.”
Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law Page 24
