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.
"Let's eat."
Talsy cut slices of cold meat and wrapped them in bread, and he tore at it. Curiosity filled her, but Chanter obviously was not going to volunteer anything. She made herself a sandwich and settled down to eat.
"What happened?"
He glanced at her. "I can't tell you."
"What did you find?"
"A big flower."
Talsy nibbled her bread. "Why has it closed now?"
"I can't tell you."
She sensed that he was unhappy about avoiding her questions, for he studied his food too hard. "Something happened to you. Why were you so tired last night?"
"I can't tell you."
"Mujar never get tired."
He shot her a quelling look, but Talsy was not giving up yet. "Tell me!"
His brows drew together. "No. It's not for you to know."
"Why?"
"Because you're not Mujar."
Talsy stared at him, stunned. "Why must you have secrets?"
The Mujar shook his head and concentrated on his food. She finished her meal in sulky silence, shooting him angry looks.
Finally she burst out, "At least tell me why you won't tell me."
He sighed. "No."
"Can't you even tell me what sort of plant it is?"
"It's called an Ishmak plant."
"And it's important to Mujar."
"I didn't say that."
She snorted. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't be trying so hard to keep secrets about it."
He glowered at her. "And if you weren't so nosy I wouldn't have to argue about it."
Talsy rose and stuffed her bedding into the bag with unnecessary vigour. "What do you think I'm going to do, run off to the nearest city and tell them your secrets? Do you really think I would betray you?"
"No, I know you wouldn't." His tone softened. "It's just not something I can tell you, and I doubt that you'd understand."
"I might."
"I can't tell you."
"Are you allowed to keep secrets from your clan?"
He nodded, smiling. "Yes. You have secrets, and I don't pry."
"You're not interested. I would tell you anything you asked."
"Okay, why were you so desperate to leave your home?"
Talsy sighed, knowing that he only asked to steer her off the subject, but her curiosity seemed doomed anyway. "I wanted to escape a life of drudgery. A Trueman girl has little to look forward to. My father would have selected a suitable mate for me, who would have paid him for my first child. The second I could keep, if I wished. I would have had to care for my father until his death, then I would have been alone, raising my children. Or I could live with a man, like the woman in the forest, but most men don't want to be burdened with a wife, they prefer to breed a child and raise it."
"What will your father do now?"
She shrugged. "He's young enough to have another child."
"In the clan it was different. All the men looked after the women, who could bear children to whomever they wished."
"That sounds like a better life."
"Is that what you're looking for?"
She nodded. "And some adventure, to see the world."
He rose and picked up the bag. "Well, you're certainly doing that."
Talsy hurried after him when he strode away. Evidently he was not going to turn into the stallion just yet. In a way, she did not mind, for it meant that she could talk to him while they walked. She reached his side and tried to match his strides.
"You've never told me where we're going."
"You've never asked."
She smiled. "Well, I'm asking now."
"We're going to Rashkar, to rescue a boy from King Garsh's army."
"Is that the other Wish?"
He nodded. "His father is the one who sent the men to rescue me from my clan's killing field."
"How do you know he's in Rashkar?"
"That's where King Garsh trains his troops."
Talsy skipped a few paces to catch up. "How will you free him?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen what I'm up against yet."
"What happened at the Ishmak plant?"
He smiled and shook his head at her ploy. "I can't tell you."
They passed the Ishmak plant's vast acreage, staying away from its edges. Herds of animals grazed in the distance, vast moving masses of brown or gold. The beasts also stayed away from the plant. In the afternoon, they left its border and struck off towards the distant mountains. By nightfall, Talsy's legs ached, and she wondered if Chanter had made her walk as punishment for arguing about the Ishmak plant, but discarded the notion. Mujar would not stoop to such pettiness.
The following day, he took the form of the black stallion again, and they galloped towards the mountains. Three days of travel brought them to the foothills, where Chanter cantered up the steep rocky slopes with ease. Talsy wondered if he would simply gallop up the sheer rock face ahead, but when they reached it, he stopped. She slid off with the bag and held her breath through the brief cold stillness of Dolana, then Chanter stood before her again. The mountains loomed over them, slabs of grey rock thrust up from the earth and shaped by wind and rain. The range stretched away in either direction like the vast stone backbone of some gigantic beast. Chanter gazed at the tall cliffs, his nostrils flared as the bitter wind whipped his hair. Flags of cloud flew from the snowy pinnacles, stretched and torn by the wind.
Talsy watched him with a frown. Had he been alone, he would have simply flown over them, but she tethered him to the ground. Now she understood why freedom meant so much to him. For Mujar, it was so much more than for Truemen. Only if he left her would he be able to soar over this stone barrier with a Mujar's freedom. To try to scale these sheer cliffs would be impossible. There were expanses of smooth rock that even a spider could not climb, and above that was ice. Chanter turned and walked along the edge of the cliff, his eyes scanning the heights. She wondered what he was looking for, and was puzzled when he stopped before a rock face as sheer as any other and turned to her.
"We'll cross here."
Talsy eyed the cliff. "How will we climb that?"
"We won't. We're going through it."
She scanned the rock for a tunnel, shooting him a frown.
He smiled and pointed upwards. "See, it's not as high as the rest."
The top of the cliff was appreciably lower than the peaks on either side of it, but still loomed high above them, sheer and icy. She shot him another puzzled look, and he chuckled.
"What, don't you think I'm a demigod anymore?"
"You're going to make a tunnel!"
He shook his head. "Mujar don't go underground. We can't without falling foul of Dolana, otherwise the Pits wouldn't hold us."
"Then I don't understand."
"You'll see. Hold your breath."
Talsy did so, and Chanter bent and pressed his palms to the ground. As he straightened, frigid, utter stillness clamped down. Everything froze, the air becoming a solid pressing force against her skin, like being trapped in ice. The manifestation of Earthpower was stronger than ever, frightening in its intensity. She staggered and gasped as its freezing grip released her, shivered and rubbed her chilled skin. Chanter looked contrite and came over to share his warmth. The tingles of Crayash soon banished the cold, and his method of sharing it never failed to delight her.
In addition to his closeness, he seemed to feed warmth into her as if he was a conduit to a roaring fire. The clasp of his hands on hers soon warmed her blood and made her tingle, but that was not solely due to the warmth he imparted. She released him with a grateful smile, and he faced the mountain. He controlled Dolana, but had not wielded it yet. He studied the stone barrier with a vaguely irritated expression, as if making a path through it was a mere inconvenience, and a task in which he took no pleasure. The difference between Mujar and Truemen struck her afresh. A Trueman would have revelled in such power and used it lavishly, with great showmanship and enjoyment, to impress others and accrue power and wealth. Chanter, if anything, looked a little sad.
With a soft, creaking groan, the rock tore apart. The split started high above and descended to the ground, the stone shimmering as it parted. The gap widened until it was about four feet broad, the sides and floor as smooth as glass. A few feet ahead, the gap narrowed and joined together again. Chanter picked up the bag and walked into the fissure, Talsy close behind, resisting the urge to grab the back of his jacket and hang on. As he proceeded, the rock parted before him, keeping pace with his strides. She glanced back and shivered. The stone closed silently behind, sealing as if it had never been sundered. They walked through a narrow canyon whose sheer, sparkling sides rose so high that the sky was a small boat-shaped splash of blue.
Black spots and brown stripes patterned the walls, along with glittering crystal seams and a thousand shades of grey in swirling, abstract patterns. The rock's cold chilled her, and she wondered if the closing walls would crush her if she lagged behind. Although they traversed the bottom of a deep pit, he was able to control the Dolana that must be pressing in on him from all sides. He seemed unaffected, but he set a fast pace, as if eager to quit the mountain's bosom.
It seemed like many hours later when the rock ahead parted to reveal a blue sky and tumbled, rock strewn slopes. Talsy stumbled out after the Mujar, shivering. The seamless sweep of grey stone behind her seemed pristine, and the ground had not even shuddered in protest. Chanter dropped the bag and turned to take her hands until her teeth stopped chattering, whereupon he released her with a smile.
"Better now?"
Talsy nodded. "So what was the difference between that and a Pit, or a tunnel? We were still far below the ground."
"No, we weren't. We were within the mountain, but above the ground. The Dolana was strong, yes, far stronger than here, for instance, but I was walking, not pressed against the earth. Dolana can only invade from contact. It doesn't travel through Ashmar. As a bird, I have no Dolana in me, as a Power. It's out of my reach."
"Then how do the Pits work?"
Chanter shook his head. "I don't know, I've never been in one. They must be very deep, and being that far underground would cause Dolana to be extremely strong. Mujar are thrown in unconscious, and when they awake surrounded by so much Earthpower, I should think they can reach no other Power."
"Why was that better than a tunnel?"
"A tunnel would mean rock above me, which is far more confining. I would have had to make a tunnel right through the mountain, and in the middle of it the outside world would have been very far away. Too far, for my liking."
She considered. "Perhaps the Pits are at the end of tunnels, not just holes in the ground."
"Yes, that would be very dangerous."
Talsy looked around at a grassy slope streaked with ridges of rock and strewn with boulders amid screes of shale. At its foot, a stunted forest struggled to grow, its trees twisted by the constant wind that blew towards the mountains, carrying a tang of salt.
Chanter picked up the bag and set off down the slope. Talsy followed, but the closer she got to the dark, distorted trees, the more reluctant she was to go on. A sense of brooding, hostile power emanated from the dim wood, and, when the Mujar reached the first trees, she halted. A terrible foreboding, like ice in her blood, made her shiver.
Chanter stopped and turned to her. "You sense it? I'm surprised. I thought Truemen were immune to this world’s sensations."
"What is it?"
"A Kuran, a wood guardian, dwells here. Most of them dislike your people. This one hates Truemen more than most."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Truemen destroy forests. They cut the trees and use the wood, set fire to them to make grazing lands for their beasts."
"I can't go in there."
The Mujar smiled. "I won't let her harm you. Come, take my hand."
Talsy forced herself to approach him, taking his hand. The brooding hostility lessened as Chanter led her into the shade of the first trees, which were so short they were little more than shrubs with thick, twisted black trunks and claw-like branches bearing a few small, dark leaves. A mat of knotted, tangled roots was at war for what little nourishment existed in the stony soil. Chanter picked his way over the roots and rocks, treacherous footing for the unwary. She clung to his hand, staying as close to him as her eyes darted into the shadows whence the hostile presence glared.
Roots seemed to twist beneath her feet, making her stumble, and she would have fallen if not for Chanter's hand, yet he appeared to have no trouble at all. The wood closed in behind them, the trees becoming taller and less twisted. A dense canopy of contorted branches locked together above them, shutting out all but a few sparkles of sky. In the damp gloom, lichen patches lent splashes of green to drab bark. Clumps of hanging moss loomed out of the dimness, making her start.
The grey growth's feathery touch sent shudders through her, and damp cobwebs stuck to her face. She brushed at them, but they proved difficult to wipe away, and were soon replaced. An eerie silence hung heavy amongst the blighted trees and a rank, dead smell arose from the soggy black leaves that filled the hollows between the roots. It seemed as if the angry, brooding presence had driven everything from the forest save the trees.
Talsy gasped and shied as a twig scratched her face like a clawed hand reaching from the darkness. She wiped a trickle of blood off her cheek, the scratch burning as she stumbled after the Mujar. A root caught her ankle, and she fell with a yell of surprise, her hand yanked from Chanter's grip. He stopped and turned, frowning. Talsy tried to rise, but roots whipped up to snake around her legs, pin her to the ground and push knobs into her flesh.
"Chanter!"
Talsy panicked as the roots tightened, while the Mujar gazed into the forest.
“Chanter!” Terror washed through her as the roots coiled up her legs, reaching her hips.
He held up a hand. "Hush."
Talsy bit her lip, quelling the urge to scream at him to do something. The Mujar remained just out of reach, and stared into the darkness without expression.
The air filled with the faint sound of beating wings, accompanied by a breeze. The trees around them moved with slow precision, the branches twisted as if by invisible hands. The roots stopped their progress up her hips and held her in a painful clasp. The beating of wings softened to a whisper of feathers, and a warm draught stirred the stale, cold air. The twisting trees' slow rearrangement formed two huge, empty pits amongst the tangled wood. The brooding presence grew strong, and waves of hatred chilled her blood.
The Mujar raised a hand and beckoned to the darkness, which swelled from its pits, bringing with it the clean smell of fresh cut timber. Chanter bent and touched one palm to the ground, thrusting his other hand into the tangible dark presence. It swallowed his hand to the wrist, and a soft shiver went through the forest. A sigh wafted like wind in the branches, accompanied by a faint creaking of wood. Leaves rustled as a shiver of icy Dolana quivered the air.
Chanter paused, then lifted his other hand and reached into the darkness, which engulfed his arms to the elbows. He withdrew one arm and raised it, and a tiny shred of mist drifted from his fingers, followed by a soft patter of rain on the leaves above. Freeing himself, he lowered his hands. A glimmer of fire brightened the air in a tiny cluster of flames that burnt before him for a moment.
Talsy stared at him, entranced. He had invoked the Powers so gently that even a timid deer would not have been alarmed. Now he weaved them together with deft twisting motions, fire and water, air and earth. A shimmering rainbow cord appeared in his hands, aglow yet wet, sighing with wind yet glittering with grit. He reached into the darkness with it, groped, and pulled back.
The cord twined around a being that made Talsy gasp with wonder, drawing it from the shadows. If it had a form she could not divine it. Its outline wavered constantly, yet it had eyes of pearly sorrow and tears that glittered amongst its soft folds of emerald green and deep brown. A mouth moaned with the soft sadness of growing trees, and hands gripped Chanter's with gentle loam fingers and tender green shoots. Great wings of anguish trailed it, formed into shining petals of a million colours that dragged at the air.
The Mujar drew it forward with his shining elemental cord, and a great sigh went through the trees. The twined branches parted, allowing light to pour down in dapples of gold, and a breeze stirred the leaves. The forest came alive as it filled with warmth and sunlight, and the shadows gave way to rich brown bark and the verdure of leaves. Chanter held the being trapped with his cord, its sorrow and anguish running from it like a silver stream of emotion.
"Kuran," said Chanter. "Your hatred is killing you and your trees. Let it go."
The forest replied in a whisper of sound so faint Talsy could hardly hear the words it bore.
"Mujar, ever are you life, yet death stalks the land, and the city of men will fall."
"The fate of men is their own, but you will die too without the joy to live."
"When the city of men falls, the forest will rejoice."
Chanter nodded. "That is the way of Kuran, but when Marrana comes to gather, be not amongst the fallen."
"Release me," the Kuran breathed. "I mean you no harm, Mujar."
"No harm to me and mine, then shall I release you."
"No harm," the forest whispered. "Lay claim and it is yours, walker of life, though sorrows it shall bring you."
"Sorrows shall dog me ever; this is no concern of yours."
"Take it then!" The words spat from a cracking tree that split apart to reveal golden wood, its leaves falling in a green cloud. With a tearing groan, the tree fell amid splintering branches. The Kuran writhed in Chanter's grasp, and he opened his hands, releasing the rainbow cord that sundered into sparkles of flame, drops of water, a gust of air and a shower of dust. The Kuran vanished, taking with it the sun, the soft warm air and greenness. The dark silence clamped down once more, returning the forest to its former gloom.
Chanter turned and helped Talsy to her feet, the roots falling away. She rubbed her aching legs and shivered. The Mujar tugged her forward, and she stumbled over the black, twisted ground behind him. He walked faster now, dragging her along. Wet, hanging moss slapped her and cobwebs festooned her face in a silver veil. She tried to follow Chanter's steps, placing her feet where his had been, finding a sure path from root to root, unhindered by the twisted wood. The forest parted for him, but the trees rattled and sighed, hating her. Leaves lashed her, yet did not harm her. The forest Kuran, now thoroughly aroused, made its presence felt as it chased her from its depths, speeding her steps with its animosity.
Talsy noticed that no saplings grew in this forest, and many of the old, twisted trees were long dead, grey and bleached. The stench of decay, mixed with mould and musty wood, hung in the still air. Chanter hurried on, and she panted as she tried to keep up, the atmosphere tainting her tongue with dust. A branch snapped off behind her, crashed to the ground and shattered into slivers of dead grey wood. She ran faster, her lungs burning with effort.
A glimmer of light showed through the trees ahead, and they burst into warm sunlight. Talsy stumbled and collapsed, unable to take another step. Sitting on the warm green grass, she looked back at the dark forest as it sighed a rank breeze. Chanter stood beside her, staring at the wood with narrowed eyes. Deep within the forest, a tree fell with a tearing crash, and branches rattled as if a strong wind stirred them.
"What was that all about?" she gasped.
"The Kuran hates Truemen. She wanted to kill you."
"Why?"
The Mujar glanced around. "Because of this." He made a sweeping gesture.
Talsy turned to look at a sloping field of stumps. Thousands of trees had once grown here. Their grey stumps extended far down the hillside to the edge of the cultivated land that surrounded a vast stone city sprawled along the coast. Miles of green fields dotted with stumps stretched away in either direction, the dark forest bordering them on one side and a golden beach on the other. Further up the coast, waves frothed against tall white cliffs and gulls rode the sea breeze, too far away for their cries to be heard. Grazing beasts cropped the grass in vast herds, moving amongst the stumps and an occasional bleached log.
"The Kuran once had a vast forest," Chanter explained. "It stretched all along the coast, from the mountains to the sea. Then Truemen came and cut it down to build ships and houses. They burnt the wood in their fires and furnaces and cleared the land for their beasts. Hatred consumes her now, and she's killing her trees."
"But she has power. Why can't she fight back?"
"She has little power. All she commands are the trees. The deeper into the forest you go, the more powerful she is, but on the edges she can do little but rattle branches."
"So as long as Truemen cut down the trees on the edge of the forest, she can't harm them."
"No. I doubt any Trueman ventures deep into that wood."
She rubbed her aching legs, then rose and sat on a stump. Chanter gazed across the land.
"Why did you say she might die? Surely she's immortal if she's an elemental or a wood spirit?" Talsy asked.
Chanter shook his head. "She is neither. A Kuran is part of the wood, like a soul. They exist only in old forests, and are many thousands of years old. If the forest dies, she will die with it. Her hatred has driven away the birds that spread the seeds and the bees that pollinate the flowers. No young trees grow, and the old ones will die. Her life span has no limit, but she can be killed."
Talsy considered this, frowning. "What did she mean, 'death stalks the land, and the city of men shall fall'?"
"She was speaking of the Hashon Jahar."
"Was it a prophecy?"
He shrugged. "Sort of. Come, let's find somewhere to camp."
Picking up the bag, he set off down the sloping field, angling away from the distant city. Talsy followed, studying the sprawling coastal metropolis. It seemed that the forest's wood had mostly been used to build ships, for the city was made almost entirely from stone. Tall buildings, the likes of which she had never seen before, rose above the thick wall that pinned the city to the sea. Square towers, their walls spotted with many narrow windows, stood proud but ugly, topped by grey slate roofs. Some buildings owned arched doorways, carved balconies and balustrades of white rock. One stood out from the rest by virtue of a domed roof that appeared to be made of pale green crystal. Certainly this was a mightier city than Horran, prosperous and well kept. Talsy longed to explore it, but respected Chanter's aversion to it. She would rather stay close to him than go into the city, and she trotted to catch up with him.
"Is that Rashkar?"
He glanced back at her. "No, that's Jishan. Rashkar is on the far side of the Narrow Sea."
"Where's that?"
"Right in front of you." He gestured to the blue expanse before them. "On a clear day you can see the far side."
Talsy squinted across the sparkling water, but could make out nothing but haze in the distance. "How will we get across?"
The Mujar entered a copse of tall trees and dumped the bag. A spring bubbled from lichen-covered rocks and trickled away along its mossy bed, a line of silver amid the green. Chanter selected a log and sat, looking up at her with a smile.
"I'll swim or fly. You have a choice."
She knelt to unpack the bag. "What's that?"
"Either you can buy passage on a ship, or purchase a boat and I'll tow you across."
Talsy considered these options while she started a fire and set a pot of water on it. Now that she owned a tinderbox, she no longer needed Chanter to light fires. She placed the remains of an antelope in the pot and added vegetables, then sat back. Either choice meant going into the city, which she did not like.
"Are those the only two choices?"
He shook his head. "I could carry you on my back, but you'd get wet. It wouldn't be pleasant. Or I could build a raft, but that would also be uncomfortable and slow."
Talsy pondered. A ship would be by far the most comfortable method, but it would also mean she would be parted from Chanter for the voyage. She was not sure that she had enough money to buy a boat, even a small one, and a raft would take time to construct.
"How long will it take to swim across?"
His brows rose. "Odd choice. Quite a long time. A day and a night, at least."
"That's too long for me. I'll go into the city tomorrow and see if I have enough money to buy a boat, if not, I'll go on a ship."
"Of course, there are other choices, but I don't want to draw attention to myself. I still have to free this boy in Rashkar. It will be easier if no one knows I'm there."
Talsy stirred the stew, thinking about a Mujar's powers. If he could part a mountain, he could certainly part the sea, or make a bridge of ice for her to walk over. The thought made her shiver, and she glanced at him. With a friend like him, nothing was impossible, but was he her friend? Was it only clan bond that kept him with her, and how strong was that? If the effort of looking after her became too great, would he abandon her without a qualm? What did he feel for her? Was a Mujar capable of feelings? He treated her with kindness and respect, but had not touched her except to give her warmth or comfort. He had protected her from the Kuran, but had yet to announce that her wish was fulfilled.
Talsy still pondered this when she crawled into the tent to sleep, stretching out on the thin bedroll. Chanter joined her as he always did, to lie beside her and share his warmth before he disappeared into the night for his wild wanderings.