Broken World Book Two - StarSword

by Southwell, T C

  Finding that he was not catching up with the sinking predator, Chanter took on the sleek powerful form of a dolphin. He powered downwards, and soon the predator came into sight, a vaguely ray-shaped beast with vast filmy wings streaked with the many colours that marked all the creatures of this world. Others gathered around it, whimpering in sympathy as the food beast high above gave voice to deep moans. Reaching it, he changed back to man form and slid his arms around the silky, bulbous body, filled with joy as a mind-link formed between them. His rapport with a brother of this world was far stronger than with any of the engineered beasts given to the Lowmen savages.

  The predator gave its name in a rush of sweet emotion, a calling so pure and poignant that no word could contain it. A spasm of its pain swept through Chanter as it opened its mind to him, then the predator's concern for his sanity stemmed it. He drifted with it as the blue depths grew darker, the predator transfixed by the pain. Chanter rubbed his cheek against its silken skin, caressing its perfect curves as he sought to gain the knowledge necessary to heal it. His mind was filled with God-given knowledge about Lowman beasts, so he could take on their form, but about his kin, whose shape he was forbidden to wear, he knew almost nothing.

  An intricate pattern ridged the predator's skin, so slight that only his sensitive fingertips could detect it. The pattern held a key, a simple repeated convolution that guided the beast's life force along it like tiny shocks of Crayash, sparkles of power that warmed its skin and fended off the deep's cold. The wound had disrupted this circle of warmth, and it leaked away from the torn edges. As they sank deeper into the dark depths, he was able to discern the flickering sparkles that travelled over the beast's skin, and decode the pattern unique to this animal. The creature twitched with pain that shot through Chanter as well, so closely was he linked to it now. Sparked by the pain, a million glimmers passed along the predator's skin and flashed out to the vast wings in a display of subdued shining beauty that filled in the missing spaces of gossamer skin so thin they were invisible in the sea.

  Invoking Shissar, he strived to heal the wound that the warrior's black sword had inflicted, convulsing as he shared the predator's suffering. The beast's pure emotion rinsed his mind and washed away the harshness of Lowmen's cruelties, bringing back the blessed simplicity of this world. The injury healed slowly, not such a simple thing to cure as Lowmen's flesh, or his own, which mirrored theirs. The predator's metabolism was alien, reminding him of what he had lost by becoming so like the Lowmen and their beasts. The sword had slashed fragile skin and pierced tender flesh, torn a million gossamer nerves and damaged countless tiny organs.

  The wound would be fatal unless he could heal it. The predator lacked any natural ability to heal, in a world where nothing should have harmed it. Sharing its mind, he struggled to put back together the delicate flesh that was made up of so many complex things. Tiny crystals that must be aligned in harmony, capillaries that carried sap-like fluid, vessels that carried blood, little bones that meshed the skin in the intricate, life-giving pattern. The minute crystals guided light and warmth from deep within the beast, sending it into the transparent bones that carried it over the skin.

  The sunlight stored within the predator resided in its giant flu-stone, the heart of the animal. This was exposed only when it basked to absorb light and heat, the rest of the time it was kept hidden deep within the alien flesh to preserve it. The beast's flesh was rooted to it, grew from it and fed it, a symbiosis of animal, plant and mineral unique to this world. Lowmen would consider the shining flu-stones that littered the seabed priceless. Their ability to store light and heat was a miracle of Nature and the gods' design.

  Chanter became aware that he was succeeding in his effort to heal the predator. The pain faded from the creature's mind as he reunited the sundered flesh. A million tiny crystals realigned, drew light and warmth to the skin, completed the broken circle and warded off the frigid talons of the ocean's cold. With the pain's cessation and the return of its warmth and life, a rush of joyful emotion suffused the predator. It started to swim again, undulating the great wings that propelled it through the water. Its kin sensed its well-being, and drifted back to their feeding. It made its way alone, the graceful sweeps of mammoth wings driving it upwards to the light and warmth of higher waters. Relaxing his control of Shissar, Chanter found himself mind-locked with the beast.

  Its gentle psyche had latched onto his with a mind and willpower almost as powerful as his own, holding him to it for the pleasure of his company. So much had been erased from his mind that he barely objected to it. The rush of pure, sweet love ran like a river of warm joy through him. Deep down, he was aware that this should not be happening. He had a purpose beyond the call of his own, a goal that required him to leave this gentle creature and be alone again, cut off from his true world.

  The predator's great wings propelled it through the depths, heading back to its feeding ground. The pain had been forgotten, and now there was only the joy of life, the pleasure of feeding and sharing with others. The entire ocean was its kin; the water in which it lived was as much a part of it as its wings. Now it had a new part, a strangely-shaped but pleasant attachment, of which it was already growing fond. Chanter fought the tender entrapment, even though he longed to stay and share the joy and pleasures of this harmless beast in its liquid domain of soft currents and the gentle swaying dance of marching swells. The distant song of the sea washed through him, a balm for all the hurts he had received in the harsh world above. This oceanic predator, unlike the one he had met in the Lake of Renewal, had a wordless language comprised of emotions and ideas passed to its kin through the water. By touching the beast, he had created a line of communication so strong that it threatened to trap him.

  The predator shared his mind, learning of his experiences even as it told him of its gratitude for his help and its wish that he stay with it. There was something else he had to do, however, a reason to quit the sweet emotions he shared with this creature of the depths. The predator sensed his desire to leave, and a wave of sadness came from it, along with a reluctant weakening of the bond. With a jerk, he broke the mind-lock and drifted away, swamped with sorrow at the loss. The bereft predator's keening cut through him with a deep pain that he shared. The creature flew on with its graceful motion, long wings sweeping as it drifted higher. Chanter turned and swam downwards, changing his shape for the sake of speed as he powered into the deeper darkness with sleek flukes.

  On the ocean floor, he found the black object he searched for and picked it up. Here it was darker than the blackest night, and he might as well have been blind for all the good his eyes did him. Yet he knew what the thing was and sensed it, swam to it and grasped it. He did not pause to ponder the mystery of this, but headed for the surface. When the distant glimmer of blue told him that the world of sun and air was close, he changed his shape again, removing the black thing from his mouth now that he had hands. He continued to rise, the world that he was about to enter alien after such close contact with a denizen of the sea. The dark shape of the food beast hung above him, and a flotilla of predators glided amongst its many tendrils, nibbling the submerged fronds.

  Talsy looked around at a splash beside the food beast, and her heart pounded as Chanter emerged from the sea. He threw something black onto the shore, then drew in a great breath. As lithe as a seal, he hauled himself out and flopped down, rolled onto his back and clamped a hand over his eyes. She glanced at Kieran, who stared at the Mujar with a mixture of shame and anguish. She crept closer to the motionless Mujar, but some instinct warned her not to touch him, and instead she murmured his name.

  Chanter's neck muscles jerked as if someone had thrust a needle into his ear, and he turned his face away, keeping his eyes covered. Talsy retreated, dragging Kieran with her. Out of earshot, she turned to him.

  "Best to leave him."

  "What's wrong with him?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. He was down there a long time. Who knows what h
e went through?"

  The warrior looked doubtful, then glanced around. "What did he throw?"

  Half an hour of searching amongst the fronds found the object that Chanter had flung onto the food beast's back, and Kieran stared at it in amazement.

  "My sword! God, he went to the bottom of the ocean."

  Talsy shook her head in wonder as Kieran wiped a thin film of grey mud from the blade, awestruck by the depths Chanter had plumbed to find the weapon.

  "Why did he bring it back?" Kieran asked.

  Talsy could only shake her head again, and they walked back to where Chanter lay. Talsy's worry grew, and she crept closer again, whispering his name. The Mujar turned his head, shading his eyes with the hand that had covered them. Although he responded to his name as if forced to by some strange compulsion, his expression was blank and peaceful, as emotionless as a mask.

  "Are you all right?" she murmured.

  Chanter closed his eyes again, and she retreated, pushing Kieran away. They sat in the sun and watched him. Talsy bit her lip and Kieran wiped the sword until it was spotless. Two hours passed before the Mujar sat up as if the effort taxed him greatly. Uncovering his eyes, he narrowed them to slits against the sunset's gentle golden rays. Talsy smiled, but he turned away, rose and walked back to the ship. The chosen shrank from his blank eyes, and, as soon as Talsy and Kieran had joined him on the deck, the ship moved away from the massive multi-coloured beast and sailed west again.

  The sun sank into the sea before them, trailing fingers of deep crimson across the darkening sky as the dwindling light followed it to its resting place beneath the waves. Talsy looked back at the food beast slumbering in its bed of water like a lily pad on a pond. The fronds that rose like tiny trees gave off an eerie glow. Colours crept through them, changed their patterns and painted new ones. What must it be like to do nothing but drift and bask and soak up goodness from the sea? To be nibbled painlessly by predators, like a mother feeding her young? Did they think? Did they dream and speak to each other? Why would such a languorous beast even need a mind? She pondered the strange beauty of this world until the darkness behind them swallowed the giant beast.

  Chanter spent the night sitting on the deck, lost in the memory of the depths and the predator's mind-touch. Talsy stayed away, and he was glad of her tact. He let Kieran nurse his injury until the following day, when he had regained some semblance of normality. His contact with the Shamerian beast had warped his thinking and replaced much of his knowledge with blank spaces. Regaining the lost knowledge took a great deal of introspection and concentration, but without it he would no longer be able to heal Lowman flesh. In order to undo the harm he had done to the Lowman warrior, he had to recall the knowledge and skill he had lost when he had shared the predator's mind.

  Shortly after sunrise, Chanter looked around as Kieran emerged from below decks, his injured arm clasped before him. Someone had splinted and strapped the warrior's wrist, and evidently he wanted a stroll on deck. As he rounded the cabin, the Mujar stepped out in front of him. Kieran paled and stumbled back. Chanter frowned at him, puzzled by his fear. The stern railing brought warrior up short, and he raised his good arm.

  Chanter made the palm up gesture. "No harm."

  Kieran lowered his arm, eyeing the Mujar. Talsy, who had just emerged onto the deck, spotted the confrontation and hurried over. Kieran flung her a pleading look.

  "What's wrong with him?"

  "There's nothing wrong with me," Chanter said. "You're the one who needs fixing."

  "Chanter..." Talsy hesitated, and the Mujar spoke without turning his head.

  "You told him?"

  "Yes."

  "Leave us."

  Talsy frowned and moved away, watching them. Kieran did not cower, such a big man would find that difficult, but his demeanour was apprehensive.

  Chanter studied him. "You fear me. Good."

  "I never meant any harm."

  The Mujar reached out and took hold of Kieran’s broken wrist. The warrior gritted his teeth as Chanter undid the bandage and removed the splints, his fingers examining the swollen, discoloured flesh. He lowered his eyes.

  "Regret."

  "What?" Kieran shook his head in confusion.

  "I have harmed you."

  "Oh. It's nothing."

  Chanter raised his eyes. "It's broken."

  The flash of Shissar made Kieran jump, then Chanter gestured, and a globe of sea water sprang from the ocean into his hand. He splashed it over Kieran’s wrist, and his fingers stroked the blackened skin. In seconds the bruising faded, and he released Kieran, stepping back.

  "Wish."

  Kieran looked flabbergasted. "Why do you grant me a Wish?"

  "For regret. Same as gratitude, but very rare."

  "Because you hurt me?"

  Chanter nodded. "Wish."

  Kieran still looked confused, his eyes wary as he stared at the Mujar. "But you already healed it."

  Talsy came up behind Chanter, apparently unable to stay out of the confrontation. "He's being formal," she explained. "Chanter, he doesn't understand you when you're like this. You're being too Mujar. Try a little Lowman complexity, he'll understand that."

  Chanter glanced at her, sighed and shook his head. "You, too, Talsy, are too Mujar. It will bring you great grief. Kieran is afraid of me because I hurt him. He has seen the ease with which Mujar can do harm. He thought that he was stronger than me, but with the powers I wield, nothing is stronger than a Mujar. In the Mujar way, I must atone for the harm I've done, and I offer him a Wish, yet he stands there with his mouth open like he's trying to catch flies and doesn't understand me at all. Is that enough Lowman complexity for you?"

  Kieran asked, "What the hell happened to you down there?"

  "Questions? Is that your Wish?"

  "Yes."

  Chanter inclined his head. "Three only."

  "What happened down there?" Kieran repeated.

  The Mujar stared out to sea with narrowed eyes. "I healed a creature of such intricacy that it makes you and I seem like bags of water with sticks of metal inside them."

  "The predator," Talsy guessed.

  Chanter nodded and continued, "In the process, its mind almost absorbed mine, for they have an emotional sphere so far superior to yours that it makes you seem like bits of wood." He leant against the railing. "Their world is so perfect that to become lost in it is the ultimate wish of any being with feelings. Because I am Mujar, I was able to communicate my need to be free, and it released me. And you Lowmen think Mujar have no emotions."

  "Yet you cannot love," Talsy grumbled.

  He turned to her. "You will never understand Mujar. Even you, who have become so close to me, will never see what Mujar are. I said that I could never love you in the way you wished, which is the coarse, bestial manner of Lowmen. This does not mean I'm incapable of it. Mujar are..." He paused, frowning. "I talk too much. The predator... affected me."

  Talsy glanced at Kieran, unsure that he should ask more questions when Chanter was in such a strange mood. The warrior had no such reservations, however.

  "Why did you bring my sword back?"

  "You'll need it."

  "How did you find it?"

  The Mujar turned his back to the railing and leant against it. "That sword is a weapon of the Hashon Jahar. Did you know that?"

  "No." Kieran looked down at the weapon with sudden loathing. "I picked it up during the battle that destroyed my village. If it's one of theirs, I don't want it."

  "Keep it," Chanter said. "It's a good weapon."

  "Does it have special powers?"

  "Your three questions are answered, but no, it doesn't, except that it's indestructible."

  Kieran shook his head. "You didn't answer my last question. I asked how you found it."

  "And I told you, it's a weapon of the Hashon Jahar, that's how I found it. I could sense its... lack of life. Nothing is quite so dead as the Black Riders and their apparel. That sword is like a void, suck
ing in the life force around it."

  Chanter pushed himself away from the railing and moved further along it, where he paused to glance back at Talsy. She opened her mouth, but he sprang into the air and vanished in a rush of wind and beating wings. A white gull winged away in his place, rising on the wind. Talsy watched the bird until it dwindled to a tiny speck, then turned to Kieran.

  "Something terrible happened to him down there."

  "Or wonderful."

  "If only you hadn't attacked the predator."

  He snorted. "If only you hadn't screamed like you were being eaten alive."

  "Moron. I got a fright. I didn't ask you to come charging in like a damned dire bear guarding a cub."

  "Yeah?" He glared at her. "Well, if I'd stopped to ask you whether something was actually eating you, or whether you were just squealing like a silly little girl, it might have been too late."

  "Chanter would have known if I had been in danger. I don't need you playing the hairy Neanderthal!"

  "Great, in future I won't bother!" Kieran marched away, his shoulders stiff.

  Talsy could not resist shouting after him, "And you're scared of him, you great big bully!"

  Kieran stopped and half turned, then thought better of it and stormed off to his perch in the bows. Talsy stared out across the sea, wishing Chanter would explain all the mysteries of this world, which she had thought she understood until now. Especially Mujar. What were they? Why did they hide their identity so well?

  The following morning, Chanter returned, and the ship sailed on across a glassy sea. Since the food beast’s fronds did not need to be cooked, Sheera was able to spend more time with Talsy. Kieran remained morosely in the bows, ignoring her as much as possible and glaring at her when he could not. Chanter seemed his usual self, perhaps a little withdrawn after his burst of extraordinary loquaciousness.

  For another week, the stone ship sailed an endless sea, carrying its Trueman burden of chosen to the distant, unknown western continent. The ship's speed and course never varied, guided by a wind and current that a Mujar controlled. The youngsters played games on the deck, and tried to persuade Kieran to join in, but the warrior remained aloof. Talsy played with them a few times, enjoying the distraction, and Chanter smiled at her antics. The food beast’s bounty remained as fresh in the ship's cool bowels as the day that they had picked it.