The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (20 page)

He patted her
shoulder. "Come, let's find a stream for you to wash in."

"I killed
Jashon," she blurted.

"I know."

"You're not
angry?"

"Why should I
be?" He picked up the bag. "You're free to do as you wish. The
choice was yours, although it was an accident."

Talsy fell into
step beside him. "I wanted to hurt him for what he did to you."

"There was no
need. Revenge has no purpose."

"It would have
made me feel better, but he fell."

"So now you
feel worse."

Talsy nodded.
Chanter walked on, and in a way she was glad of his indifference.
They left the city's cultivated lands and entered the woods beyond,
where they camped beside a stream. Chanter persuaded her to bathe
in the icy water, joining her to wash away the last traces of dried
blood. That night, after dining on bread and cheese, Chanter lay
with her to warm her before leaving her for the night's
wildness.

Chapter Nine

Talsy stared at
the giant plant with deep misgivings. Something told her that it
was dangerous, and she longed to move away. Chanter gazed across
the acres of massive leaves spread flat on the ground like lily
pads, a profusion of thin black roots supporting them. Looping
stems joined them, carrying their goodness back to the plant's
centre, where a tall stamen rose in the distance. The deep gold
leaves were edged in black and veined with electric blue, the stems
blood red.

Four days ago,
they had left the cool forest behind and set out across a seemingly
endless plain. Massive herds of strange beasts cropped the short
green grass that covered it. Chanter, in the form of the black
stallion, had covered the ground at a steady gallop, apparently as
tireless as the Hashon Jahar's steeds. A distant, hazy blue
mountain range lay ahead, but Chanter had stopped when they had
come across the giant plant. Talsy sensed that some mysterious
means had drawn him to it, and his silence over the last few nights
had worried her. She feared that she had offended him somehow.

Chanter turned
to her, his level brows drawn together. "Wait here." He paused.
"No, wait over there." He gestured beyond her, and she backed away,
unsure of his strange behaviour. He nodded when she had retreated
ten paces. "Don't come closer."

Turning away,
he stepped onto the nearest leaf, which writhed, its edges curling
up, pulling out its roots. She thought he would be engulfed, but
then it settled back. The Mujar hesitated, then stepped onto the
next leaf. It remained flat, and he walked on, taking long strides
across the gaps. Talsy watched him, anxious and afraid. She longed
to call him back, but knew, deep in her heart, that he would not
heed her. This was a Mujar secret, and not for her ken. She was
sure the plant was dangerous; she could almost sense the waves of
hostility from it, as if it was a sentient being.

Settling on the
ground, she hoped he would not be too long, and, most of all, that
he would return. His slender figure dwindled in the distance,
dwarfed by the massive stamen that rose into the sky beyond him
like a giant, curling tower.

Chanter walked
towards the stamen, careful to step on the leaves. He sensed that
to slip between them would be dangerous, even for him. A strange,
inexplicable urge tugged at his core, drawing him to the centre of
the plant. The Powers seemed distant, unreachable, as if the plant
had greater control over them than he did. He had sensed it far out
in the plains, and the closer he had got, the stronger it had
become. Now the pull was too potent to resist, and it had been a
strain to pause long enough to warn Talsy to stay away. Strangely,
as he walked closer, his emotions drained out of him. The deep rage
in his bones, which flared when he was abused, ebbed. Even the
friendship and gentle affection he had for the girl leaked away,
leaving him empty, without a will or purpose.

Chanter became
aware that he no longer walked across leaves, but up a long, broad
path of glittering gold, seamed with fire-blue and edged with
black. On either side, other broad golden petals narrowed. He
crossed a flower so vast that he could not see it in its entirety.
The stamen towered above him, tall enough to touch the clouds. He
knew he had travelled a long way, but could not recall the journey.
His legs carried him forward, and that was where he wished to
go.

Stepping off
the petal, he walked over a deep red carpet that yielded under his
feet. Before him, the stamen's base bulked larger than a house, as
pure white as driven snow. It appeared to be made up of filmy,
translucent petals that overlapped. As he approached, the petals
peeled back to reveal a crimson core, the true base of the mighty
stamen, and released a heady scent that numbed his brain. In a
dream-like state, he stepped onto the white petals and entered the
flower's heart. The stamen's base was a golden tower, and the
plant's lure washed all else from his mind, as if he had not
existed until now.

Before him was
an opening large enough to step through, bent double. The heady
scent redoubled, and he stripped off his clothes, throwing them
aside. The walls glowed electric blue, and a pod lay split into
quarters at the centre. Chanter was drawn to the pod's heart, where
the quarters joined in a blood-red circle. As he stepped into the
circle, he sank into it up to his waist. Overwhelming sensations
flooded him, floating him away on a journey of wild pleasure.

Chanter roused
as the erotic fragrance lessened, becoming aware that he was spent
and weak. He had never been tired before, but, while it was an
alien sensation, he knew he was exhausted. He was also numb from
the waist down, yet he could still move. With great effort, he
pulled himself from the soft embrace of what he now realised was
flower's pistol, the female part. It released him reluctantly,
leaving a thin film of shining slime on his skin. Collapsing on the
silky blue floor, he waited for some strength to return to his
trembling limbs. He stared at the vast red organ that had drawn him
into its embrace. There could only be one reason for that. The
Ishmak plant was the birthplace of Mujar. His seed would be used to
birth another of his race – the child of a flower.

Now that the
strange perfume that had drawn him in here no longer clouded his
mind, he noticed the smaller pistols visible through holes in the
stamen shaft. Pollen from the stamen head high above would
pollinate these to create the plant's seeds. The filmy white petals
had hidden them, sheltering them from the elements while the plant
waited for a Mujar to trigger the petals' opening and the pollen's
release. The pollen fell in a soft golden rain, settling on the
waiting pistols. He looked at the pod and received a surprise, for
it closed slowly. The quarters rose in unison, sealing as their
edges touched.

Chanter found
his clothes and pulled them on. The slime had dried to a film that
crinkled when he moved and powdered when he rubbed it. By the time
he was dressed, the pod was sealed tight and filling with liquid.
The level rose gradually, creating a womb in which his child would
grow. He touched its warm surface, as smooth and hard as glass. The
Ishmak plant seemed far more than a mere vegetable. It generated
warmth and provided a viable womb in which a child could flourish.
It contained the four elements that made him, and every part of it
reflected his colours. Or it had coloured him.

The pod was large enough to contain a Mujar, and he knew the
boy would step from it almost full grown. Presumably the egg he had
fertilised would swim up from the pistol and grow in the clear
fluid, nourished by it. Since he had a navel, like Lowmen, there
must be an umbilical cord to carry nourishment from the plant. A
flash of memory broke into his thoughts.
He stood, wet and empty, on a brown, twisted floor, beside a
smashed, glass-like pod. He pushed through a dry, crumbling brown
wall to emerge, shivering, into brightness, covered with something
that clung to his wet skin, small black things that stuck to him
with soft white fur.
The memory slipped
from his grasp, vanishing back into the darkness of his
mind.

Being within
the confines of an Ishmak plant again had triggered the
recollection, and, faded though it was, he understood it. The
Ishmak plant did indeed have a symbiotic relationship with Mujar.
When the boy was almost full grown, the pod split, releasing the
water within it and smashing as it fell into its segments. The
newly born Mujar, confused and alone, stumbled around within the
dried, almost dead flower, gathering its seeds, which stuck to his
wet skin. He would push through the dried petals and emerge,
carrying the Ishmak's seeds. These would slowly fall off, and his
wandering would spread them far and wide. The Ishmak plant birthed
a seed distributer, but why else were Mujar created? Why did they
live a hundred years if they were born only to carry their mother
plant's seeds? That part he did not understand at all.

Realising that
he had been deep in thought for quite some time, he looked around.
The pistols outside were furred with pollen and the pod full of
clear fluid. The flower remained open, but he sensed that it
waited. He went to the pod and laid a hand on its warm surface
again. Silently he wished the child well, hoping that he would be
born wise and stay free. It would be two years before his birth,
and, until then, the Ishmak plant would protect him. That was why
they were so dangerous, as he had sensed when he had neared it.
Anything that trespassed on an Ishmak's leaves would be killed,
except a Mujar. Vaguely, he remembered leaving someone behind to
come here, but could not quite recall who. The numbing scent the
plant had released when he had entered it seemed to have purified
his mind.

Turning away,
he climbed out of the tower and onto the surrounding carpet of fine
hairs. Above him, the stamen sagged, its pollen gone. With a final
glance back at the pod containing his embryonic offspring, he
walked across the filmy petals and out onto the broad golden ones.
With a soft, rustling slither, the white petals rose, layer upon
layer, twisting into each other to form the layered cocoon he had
originally seen. Chanter walked away along the golden, black-edged
path, realising how far he had come to get here, and how vast the
Ishmak plant was. He had spent almost the whole day in the flower,
for the sun sank behind him in brilliant red and gold glory.

Chanter made
his way rather unsteadily along the petal. It seemed an age before
he stepped onto the leaves, as long fingers of dusk stretched
across the land. The friendly glow of Crayash in the distance
guided him, and, as he neared it, he gained strength, the Powers
becoming tangible once more.

Talsy sat
beside her camp fire and stared across the plant, where Chanter had
vanished. After a day alone, she was a little anxious about him.
When the afternoon had worn on and he had not returned, she had
tackled the problem of how to build a fire in the plains. A hunting
expedition had bagged an antelope, and she had racked her brains
for what to use as fuel. Scouring the plains, she had come across a
pile of dried dung, which she had discovered burnt well, making hot
coals. Adding dry grass to make flames, she had cleaned her kill
and set it over the fire to cook. Now the succulent smell of
roasting meat made her mouth water.

A rustle made
her look up. Chanter stumbled into the light and flopped down
beside the fire. He looked tired, his eyes dull, the lean lines of
his face gaunt. Drawing up his knees, he hugged them and stared
into the flames.

Talsy
swallowed, unsure of whether to speak to him, then blurted, "Are
you all right?"

The Mujar
raised his head, his eyes focussing on her rather vaguely. The lack
of recognition in them alarmed her. He licked his lips and coughed.
"Yes."

"What
happened?"

"I can't tell
you."

"You were gone
the whole day."

His gaze
returned to the fire. "I know."

Chanter
appeared to be preoccupied with deep thoughts, and she decided it
was best to leave him alone. Instead of pestering him with
questions he quite obviously was not going to answer, she cut some
cooked meat from the carcass, wrapped it in bread and handed it to
him. He consumed it in a few bites, apparently without tasting it.
His eyes drooped, as if he was exhausted, alarming her further.
Mujar never became tired. Had the plant poisoned him? Nothing could
kill him, but she knew that some things had an effect on him, like
gold. She studied him as he sat dull-eyed, his head nodding with
fatigue, until she could bear it no longer.

"Are you
tired?"

He nodded, then
his eyes became alert and he glared at her. "Go to sleep."

Talsy put away
the meal's remains and spread her pallet in the tent, stretching
out on it. She waited for him to join her, but fell asleep alone,
shivering in the chill.

When the cold
morning light woke her, Talsy was alarmed to find herself alone and
freezing. Crawling from the tent, she looked around for Chanter. At
first she could not find him, and her alarm grew, then she spotted
him lying on the plant's nearest leaf, fast asleep. Unnerved, she
hurried towards him, but the waves of hostility emanating from the
plant reminded her of his warning about it.

She stopped and
called, "Chanter!"

For several
moments he did not react, then, to her relief, he jerked awake and
sat up. He waved her back. "Stay away."

As Talsy
retreated, her gaze drifted past him and she gasped, pointing.
"Look!"

Where the
slender stamen had been yesterday, now there was a massive golden
monolith shaped like teardrop. Overlapping layers of petals
glimmered in the sun, each edged with black and veined with blue.
Chanter stared at it for a long time before he rose to his feet and
stepped off the leaf to approach her. He appeared to be normal
again, the tiredness gone, along with the blank look in his eyes.
He walked past her to the dead campfire and sat down, looking up at
her.