Children of Another God tbw-1 Read online

  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 rust
ling. 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.

  "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 dri
ve 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.