The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God Read online

  “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 remembered the Lowman girl. “Is time the same here as in Shamarese?”

  “No. It passes a little slower here.”

  The sun had moved a fair distance across the sky. 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’s awareness of the lack of Ashmar had become acuter 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. 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 stinks 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 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’s 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, and Chanter gazed at the strange world. 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. The moon sank towards distant mountains, but dawn was still a few hours away. He was tempted to return to the Lake and explore it further. 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.

  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 as he twisted between looming 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. A dire bear stood not ten paces from the tent, idly sharpening his claws on a tree. The animal grunted, peering at Chanter 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 and lifted a 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 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.

  The moon was setting, and dawn not far off. Chanter stripped and 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, 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 wished 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.

  Chanter asked, “Can you ride?”

  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, and he bent to press his hands to the ground. The icy silence of Earthpower clamped down, solidifying the air. As the moment of frozen stillness passed, she let out her breath in a sigh. Chanter had vanished, and a magnificent black stallion 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, and 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 mane to pull herself up. As soon as she was settled, he set off across the snowy landscape.

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

  On the lower slopes, he 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 gla
nced 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.

  “Wait here.” Talsy headed towards the stallion, but he walked away. “Wait, Chanter.”

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

  “Chanter, please stop!”

  The Mujar snorted, and she released his tail, 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. Talsy ran alongside and gripped 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, 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 silence.

  They had travelled about three miles down the trail when they found the dead hunter and his frozen kill. Chanter walked around them, and she slid off, twisting her ankle. She glared at him when he stopped a little further on and turned to her. She hobbled to the corpses. The hunter had been gored terribly, and died struggling to drag his kill home to his family. His noble, futile efforts saddened her.

  She said, “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 neck.

  Talsy limped to him and fell to her knees. “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 went to stand beside the bog boar carcass with a hangdog air. She prised the rope from the dead hunter’s frozen hands and tied it around the stallion’s neck. He towed the boar back along the trail, Talsy limping in his wake.

  By the time they reached the house, her ankle throbbed. At the sound of their approach, the door flew open and the woman ran out.

  “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 children emerged to stare at the 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, although 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 said. “Mind no one steals him. Why doesn’t he open his eyes?”

  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 clutched Talsy’s arm. “Stay here with us, for your own good!”

  Talsy wrenched free. “Leave me alone!”

  Evading the woman’s 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!”

  Chanter waited 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. Talsy dismounted, giving a choked cry as pain shot up her leg. She pulled off the bag and took a deep breath. The world froze as the icy surge of Earthpower clamped down, forcing a moment of utter stillness before it vanished.

  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 started 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.”

  She looked up and sighed. “I noticed. But you don’t have to owe a person something to help them if they’re in trouble. If you gave your help freely, people would like you far better.”

  “Finish your chores, and I’ll tell you a little about Mujar.”

  When the tent was pitched and a pot of stew bubbled on the fire, she asked, “Well?”

  He cast her a slight smile. “It’s not as interesting as you seem to think. Quite simply, it’s forbidden for Mujar to help any who haven’t earned it.”

  She recalled her father’s explanation. “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Mujar obey the laws and accept the consequences, which are sometimes unpleasant. Our ways have made Low – Truemen hate us, but they never really liked us in the first place. We’re different, and your people dislike those who are not the same as them. When we first came amongst you, your people tried to enslave us. That’s how they learnt of our powers, when they put iron chains on us. They thought us inferior, because we were not Truemen. Yet we don’t hate them for throwing us into the Pits, or for reviling us.”

  “Then it’s true, you don’t have any emotions.”

  Chanter shook his head. “We do, but hatred is not common for us, nor does it consume us as it does you. Truemen expect us to hate them for what they’ve done to us, and sometimes we do feel it, but it’s a fleeting thing. You’re mortal, so death may take you at any time. Mujar have the gift of life for a hundred years. Thus, we’re different, and our ways are different too.”

  “I don’t understand. My father forced you to help me by sticking that arrow in you, just as I did. Why help someone for pulling out the arrow they hurt you with in the first place?”

  “We forgive the harm that’s done to us, and are grateful for the end of the pain inflicted. By removing the arrow, you helped me, even though you were responsible for shooting me with it. You didn’t have to pull it out, and had you not, I would have continued to suffer. More than that, I can’t tell you. It’s not always like that.”

  “Has someone helped you who didn’t hurt you first?”

  “Yes, when my clan was killed, a spear pinned me to the ground.
I would have remained there for the rest of my life without help. If Dolana pierces a Mujar, we’re unable to command it. I was too weak to pull it out, so I sent a raven with a message, and a Trueman saved me. I gave Gratitude and granted a Wish, just as I did for you.”

  Talsy snorted. “So you’ll accept help, but you won’t give it.”

  “Not true. I’m helping you, and the Trueman who saved me.”

  “Because we earned it.”

  “Yes.” He paused. “And now you despise me too.”

  “No. I could never despise you. You’re different, and I don’t understand you, that’s all.”

  Chanter smiled. “There are many things I don’t understand about my kind. Why are Mujar different? Where do we come from? Why do we long for comforts we don’t need? I don’t know.”

  Talsy served the stew, her mind abuzz with questions now that he seemed willing to answer them. “Will you tell me about the Powers?”

  “They are the four elements. Dolana, the Earthpower, is the reason I can’t lie on the ground for too long. It’s a cold Power, and it fills me up, pushing out Crayash, the Power of Fire. Truemen use it to trap Mujar. When filled with Dolana, Mujar can’t wield another Power, and it makes us weak if we have too much in us. Dolana’s an unfriendly Power. Crayash is the best and easiest to use. It keeps us warm. Ashmar is the Power of Air, and Shissar is the Power of Water.”

  “You use Shissar to heal.”

  “Yes, but it has many uses. Too many to tell about you all of them.”

  “So you can control anything you want?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The weather?”

  Chanter nodded. “Ashmar.”

  “The trees?”

  “Dolana.”

  “The animals?”

  Chanter set aside his empty bowl. “Everything. Animals are controlled by the Power in which they dwell, Dolana for beasts, Ashmar for birds and Shissar for fish.”

  “What about Crayash?”

  “No animal dwells in fire.”

  “You could do anything then?” Talsy asked. “Make the mountains explode, the oceans run over, the earth open and swallow cities.”

  Chanter nodded, his eyes twinkling. “If I wanted to.”

  “That makes you… a god.”

  The Mujar threw back his head and laughed so hard he fell off the rock and sprawled in the snow. Talsy grinned. He said, “I knew that was coming.”