The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God by T C Southwell Page A

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