“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 was stunned. “Why must you have secrets?”
The Mujar shook his head and concentrated on his food. She finished her meal in sulky silence, casting 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. “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’d betray you?”
“No, I know you wouldn’t.” His tone softened. “It’s just not something I can tell you, and I doubt 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 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 have kept, 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 have lived 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 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 onwards. 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 backbone of some gigantic beast. Chanter’s nostrils flared as the bitter wind whipped his hair. Flags of cloud flew from the snowy pinnacles, stretched and torn by the wind.
Talsy wondered what he was going to do. Had he been alone, he would have 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. Only if he left her, would he be able to soar wild and free again. Scaling the cliffs would be impossible; there were expanses of smooth rock that even a spider could not climb, and above that was ice. Chanter walked along the edge of the cliff, scanning the heights.
He stopped beside a rock face as sheer as any other and said, “We’ll cross here.”
Talsy eyed the cliff. “How will we climb that?”
“We won’t. We’re going through it.”
She searched for a tunnel and frowned.
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 raised her eyebrows, 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.”
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 always delighted 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 smile, and he faced the mountain. He controlled Dolana, but had not wielded it yet. He inspected 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 shim
mering 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 hang on to the back of his jacket. 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. Chanter dropped the bag and held her hands until her teeth stopped chattering, whereupon he smiled and released her.
“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.”
They stood on 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 and take his hand. The brooding hostility lessened as Chanter led her into the shade of the first trees, which 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 close to him while 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 growths’ 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, 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!”
She 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.
The faint sound of beating wings was 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 warm sunlight invaded it, 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 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, although 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 helped Talsy to her feet, the roots falling away. She rubbed her aching legs and shivered. He 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 no harm. The Kuran, now aroused, made its presence felt as it chased her from its depths, speeding her steps with its animosity.