Broken World Book Two - StarSword

by Southwell, T C

  "Right." The Prince nodded. "Then you'll do as I say."

  "No."

  Tyrander snorted. "I suppose you don't think I'll kill her, do you? You think I'm bluffing!" He spun to face the torturers. "Strangle her!"

  A concerted gasp came from the onlookers, especially the rebels. Darton scowled and stepped down from his place beside the throne.

  "Highness, if you kill her..."

  "Shut up!" Tyrander glared at the confused torturers. "I said strangle her!"

  The two men put away their daggers and twisted the rope around Talsy's neck again.

  She stared at the Mujar in horror. "Chanter?"

  Chanter closed his eyes in a slow, serene blink, but she did not know what he was trying to communicate to her, and an icy tide of fear rose in her. As the rope tightened, his eyes flicked to her forehead and the Mujar mark he had placed there. Talsy thrust aside her fear. She trusted Chanter with her life, and he would not let her die. A strange, comforting warmth stole through her as the tightening rope cut off her air. There was no pain, just a sliding, fading sensation.

  Tyrander's eyes widened as the Mujar mark on Talsy's forehead turned crimson. Blood oozed from the lines and ran down between her brows, where it split into two drops that traversed her cheeks like bloody tears.

  He turned to Chanter. "What are you doing to her?"

  The Mujar shrugged. "Easing her pain."

  "That's all? You're not going to save her? You're going to let her die?" Tyrander was clearly amazed, his lips wet with spittle.

  "Yes."

  "No!" Kieran shouted hoarsely, struggling to raise himself off the litter. "You can't let her die!"

  The Mujar gazed at Talsy with just a hint of sadness, as she sagged in the torturer's hands, her skin tinged with blue, her glazed eyes bulging.

  Tyrander said, "Release her!"

  The men complied, loosened the ropes and slapped her cheeks as she lay unmoving. Long moments passed before she drew a shallow, wheezing breath again. The torturers looked relieved, and Tyrander turned to the Mujar.

  "Why did you come here if you will not save her?"

  "To ease her suffering."

  "That's all?"

  Chanter nodded. "You can't blackmail a Mujar."

  "Things have changed, damn you! You have to obey me!"

  "No."

  Tyrander's eyes narrowed as he pondered the possible ramifications of the situation. "Well, I didn't kill her when I could have, I released her, so you owe me gratitude, don't you?"

  Chanter considered this. "Yes."

  "Wish."

  "Wish," Chanter allowed.

  "Protect my castle from the Black Riders."

  "No."

  Tyrander gave a harsh grunt of frustration, running a hand over his face. "All right. Answers then."

  Chanter nodded. "Three."

  "What will happen if the First Chosen dies?"

  "There will be no more chosen, and the race of Truemen will be abolished."

  Tyrander's eyes gleamed. "What are your instructions from the gods?"

  "To take the chosen to the place of gathering."

  "Can you disobey them?"

  "No."

  "Then you have to save the girl!" Tyrander crowed, grinning and slapping his thigh. "You have no choice!"

  Chanter smiled, and Tyrander's glee withered at the sight of it. Talsy coughed and moaned on the floor, and Chanter glanced down at her with deep tenderness. She had a great deal of courage, for a Lowman girl, he mused, but then, he had noticed that about her long ago. Tyrander ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he considered the situation.

  "This doesn't make sense," he muttered. "You say that you can't let her die, but you won't save her. So who will?" He glanced around. "I don't see any other Mujar here, do you? And even if there were, they can't save her either without doing as I say, so what's going to happen?"

  Chanter gazed around the room as if he had no concern for the proceedings whatsoever, and the lack of answers was clearly driving Tyrander into a fury. A low muttering came from the courtiers, which added to the Prince's annoyance.

  "Shut up!" he bellowed at them, stilling the murmur. As if suddenly remembering it, he reached for the Staff of Law. "Staff, how can I make the Mujar obey me?"

  Brilliant letters of golden fire scored the air with a faint hiss of power. "You cannot."

  "Why is your writing so bright?" the Prince asked in surprise.

  "I am drawing power from the Mujar."

  "You're drawing power from him?" Tyrander cast Chanter an astounded look. "How can that be?"

  "He is the most powerful being here."

  Tyrander grunted, frowning. "How can he let the First Chosen die?"

  "He cannot," the burning words wrote.

  "Then he must do as I say."

  "He will not."

  Tyrander's sallow skin mottled, the fury that had been building within him during his frustrating, fruitless encounter with Chanter finally becoming more than he could suppress. He dropped the stone, stepped back, and drew the Starsword.

  "Riddles!" he bellowed. "You all talk in riddles! You will obey me, or I'll cut you into a million pieces, you dirty Mujar scum!"

  Chanter eyed the raised sword. "Not with that."

  The Prince gave a howl of rage and swung the sword with all his might, a stroke that would have chopped a man in two. The blade bounced off the air above Chanter's head with a buzzing clang, ripped from the Prince's hands to fall to the floor with a clatter. Tyrander staggered back, clutching his jarred hands.

  "You Mujar bastard!" He yanked the dagger from his belt and lunged at Chanter, thrusting the blade at him.

  The Mujar leapt back, avoiding the blade with ease that made Tyrander look like a shambling halfwit instead of a superb swordsman. The air swelled, and a faint whisper of wings stirred a soft gust of wind. The Prince, his face mottled with fury, turned and roared at his warriors.

  "Get him! Cut him up!"

  The men muttered and shifted in their ranks, eyeing the Mujar who stood in the centre of the great hall. Darton glanced around at them and approached the Prince.

  "Highness," he ventured, "attacking the Mujar would only get us all -"

  "What?" asked Tyrander. "Killed? He won't kill anyone, fool!"

  "Burnt, My Prince. We couldn't hope to injure him."

  Tyrander bellowed and leapt at the general, plunging the dagger into Darton's breast to vent his rage. The old warrior staggered back, blood crimsoning the front of his tunic. He swayed, staring down at the spreading redness on his chest in surprise, then fell to his knees and keeled over at the Prince's feet. Tyrander bent and pulled the dagger out, wiping the blade on Darton's tunic. He straightened and faced Chanter, who eyed him impassively.

  "They'll all die, Mujar, starting with him." He pointed at Kieran, who watched from the litter, his eyes dull.

  "No," Chanter said.

  "Oh, you don't care about her, but you do care about him?" Tyrander demanded. "Then obey me."

  Chanter smiled and shook his head.

  Tyrander spun away with a curse, bellowing at his soldiers, "Kill them! Kill the traitors, now!"

  The warriors on either side of the chained rebels drew their swords. The hall filled with a raging inferno of roaring flames and choking smoke. Then the manifestation was gone, leaving almost everyone, including Tyrander, coughing and beating at their clothes. Kieran alone was unaffected, and Talsy uncaring, a slight smile on her lips as she lay between the torturers in her own calm world.

  Chanter gestured, and a ring of blue fire sprang up around the rebels, forcing Tyrander's men to retreat, their arms raised against the heat. The Prince leapt back with a yell as the flames licked close to him, smacking at his scorched clothes. Within the fiery barrier, the rebels looked around in surprise and alarm, cowering from the flames. Kieran smiled at Chanter, but the Mujar ignored him.

  Tyrander faced Chanter, his face set in grim, angry lines. "So, you would protect them, w
ould you? But her, you cannot, for you would kill the men who are chained to her, and that, you're forbidden to do."

  Chanter inclined his head.

  Tyrander drew himself up, striving to appear dignified and princely despite his singed brows, frizzled hair and sooty clothes. "Well then," he said, "I will call your bluff. I have nothing left to lose." He gestured expansively. "Since you won't obey me, you leave me no choice."

  "There is always a choice," Chanter stated.

  "Oh?" Tyrander cocked his head. "Going to try to talk me out of it now, are you?"

  "No."

  "This is the trouble with you damned yellow beggars," the Prince said, incensed by his inability to rile the Mujar. "You don't talk! You stand there and shake your head, saying 'yes' and 'no' to everything! That's why no one understands you; even the damned Staff of Law can't explain you!"

  He thumped the stone that hung against his chest. "When I ask it what Mujar are, it says 'life'! Well of course you're life, since you're alive! So am I, so is every living thing! All my grandfather's writings, all the knowledge he gleaned from Mujar does not explain what they are, what their purpose is, or why they were sent amongst us."

  He paused to draw breath. "Where do you come from? Why can't you die? Why won't you help us? But you won't answer those questions, will you? Nor will the staff! It gives me stupid answers that make no sense! Yet it can tell me where Truemen come from, that we fell from the sky in a silver bird with no wings, and the gods, the gods, mind you, when everyone knows there's only one god! They decided to give us a try, to see what manner of creatures we are! Big of them, wasn't it? Curiosity killed the bloody cat!"

  Tyrander paused, wiping foam from his lips. Silence hung in the hall on the heels of his words, a heavy cloak of gloom that the tension in the air made more tangible. He stared at the Mujar. The rays of the setting sun burnished Chanter's golden skin and glittered on his sable hair. Tyrander's tirade seemed to have calmed him, for when he spoke again, it was in a softer, more reasonable tone.

  "Look at you, the perfect being, flawless in every way. You have the power to command the world, yet you won't use it." He glanced at the wall of fire. "Except in little ways like that. All I ask is that you save my people and me from the Black Riders, and I'll free the First Chosen."

  "No," Chanter said.

  "Why?" Tyrander was almost begging. "Just answer me that!"

  The Mujar cocked his head as he considered the question, waiting for the answer to swim up out of that deep, dark place within himself that he had never been able to plumb. He nodded when it came to him, unsurprised. "You're not worthy."

  "What does that mean?"

  Chanter shook his head.

  "Come on!" Tyrander said, "That's only half an answer! Tell me why we're not worthy."

  "Ask the Staff of Law."

  "All right." The Prince reached for the golden chain and held up the caged stone. "Staff, why are we not worthy?"

  The words of fire appeared with hissing brilliance. "You have sinned against the world. You hate Mujar."

  "Mujar made us hate them with their selfishness and... laziness! How have we sinned against the world?"

  "You have desecrated it, destroyed the forests, fouled the air and water, plundered earth blood and enraged the souls."

  Tyrander turned from the staff's golden words to stare at Chanter. "So have the chosen in their own small ways, which means that the deciding factor is whether or not we hate Mujar. That's it, isn't it? The dirty yellow bastards were sent to test us, weren't they? If we hate them for their laziness and selfishness, envy their perfection and power, we're doomed."

  The staff's words smeared together into one. "Yes."

  The Prince let the stone fall back to the end of its chain, staring at the floor as he pondered this. He bent and picked up the Starsword, sheathing it. "Well then, if I'm doomed because of that, I don't see why anyone should be saved. I hold the fate of Truemen in my power, and I say let them all die!"

  Tyrander swung away and strode over to where Talsy lay chained between the torturers. He pulled the dagger from his belt and raised it above her heart.

  From behind the wall of fire, Kieran cried, "No!"

  Tyrander looked at Chanter, his face twisted in a mocking sneer, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Any last requests?"

  The Mujar shook his head, gazing at the Prince with sorrowful eyes. Tyrander gave a grunt of fury and plunged the blade into Talsy's heart. The girl stiffened with a little gasp, and Chanter raised his hands to make a series of graceful motions with his fingers. Kieran groaned and sank back on his litter. The Queen knelt beside him, covering her face. Tyrander stared down at the girl as she relaxed, her eyes glazing, the blood ceasing to pump from the wound.

  He straightened and turned to the Mujar. "So you really had no intention of saving her. How will you complete your task now? I think you've blundered badly, Mujar. You underestimated me, and have paid the price. The race of Truemen will be annihilated, and you have failed."

  Chanter gazed at Talsy, his heart filled with sorrow. Tyrander called the doctor from amongst the ranks of soldiers and gestured to the body. "Is she dead?"

  The healer knelt and felt for a pulse at Talsy's neck, then straightened. "She's dead, Highness."

  Tyrander waved a hand at the torturers. "Leave us."

  The men unshackled themselves from Talsy's body and hurried after the doctor, clearly eager to quit the scene. The Prince turned to Chanter, his expression defeated despite his triumphant words. "So, what now?"

  "I'll take what's mine and leave."

  Tyrander smiled, benevolent in his pretence of triumph. While he had failed to save himself and his city, he had doomed the entire Trueman race in retribution. This lesser victory appeared to soothe his disappointment. He clearly thought that he had outwitted a Mujar and foiled his mighty powers by slaying the First Chosen. Although it was not what he had wanted, he seemed to think that it would suffice, since he had not been completely defeated. Chanter had been punished for his defiance, and Tyrander was satisfied.

  "Take them. They're as doomed as the rest of us now." He smirked and strolled across the great hall to his throne, flinging himself into it with a grunt.

  Chanter bent and scooped up Talsy's body, cradling it tenderly. Her head lolled back, her long flaxen hair a tangled golden veil. He glanced around at the huddled rebels, dousing the fire wall with a flick of his mind. The flames vanished with a soft thump, and the chained rebels shuffled forward. Chanter frowned, and a brief flash of Dolana froze the air. The chains fell away with a rattle. Four soldiers picked up Kieran's litter and bore the Prince through the hall to the charred remains of the huge wooden doors. Chanter followed them, broken glass crunching under his feet.

  Tyrander bellowed, "You lost, Mujar! Remember that! A Trueman triumphed in the end! At least one of us had the balls to stand up and slap you down, you arrogant son of a bitch!"

  Chanter ignored him, but Kieran looked around as his brother shouted, "Farewell, Brother! You won't live any longer than me now, you damned Mujar lover!"

  Tyrander's words echoed around the great hall with the hollow tones of one who knows that he has been vanquished, but even so must shout spiteful abuse at the victor as he walks away, unable to accept his defeat with any kind of good grace. Although he tried to appear magnanimous by releasing the rebels, everyone knew that he could not have prevented Chanter from taking them, and his jeers only belittled him further. The rebels moved out of earshot, foiling any further vitriolic remarks he might have thought up, had he had more time.

  Outside, Chanter walked on without pause, following the red road that led through the oasis to the desert beyond. He glanced back at the people who followed him. Queen Kamish walked beside Kieran's litter, her face drawn and grim. Kieran lay desolate, blinking as if unshed tears burnt his eyes.

  Kamish bent closer to ask him, "Is it true? Are we all doomed now?"

  "Yes," he muttered, "Talsy's dead."

&nbs
p; "Then why do we follow him? Why does he lead us into the desert?"

  "I don't know, nor do I care."

  Kamish regarded her son with deep pity. "You loved her, didn't you?"

  Kieran turned his head away. "Leave me alone."

  The Queen fell back, granting his wish. As they walked through the valley of the Staff of Law, people came from their houses to join them. Farmers left their homes and any of their family who hated Mujar and followed the rebels. Tradesmen downed tools and abandoned their industry to stride after Chanter, casting aside the trappings of their trades. Housewives stopped their work and followed, carrying children on their hips and bags in their hands. Young lovers emerged from the park-like gardens and joined the throng, their arms around each other. The numbers swelled as they approached the red sand, a long procession of downcast people who walked with dragging steps.

  As they left the trees, Chanter paused. He held Talsy's body tightly, a precious burden. With a flick of his mind, he summoned the Earthpower. The manifestation was long and strong, leaving the people shivering and gasping. He raised his head to sniff the first wisp of bitter wind, and his eyes swept the desert before him.

  The red sand parted, rising up on either side in steep banks to open a path of hard brown earth. The road stretched away into the hazy distance, cutting through the desert like the track of a giant plough, removing the obstacle of soft, sifting sand. The people gaped at this miracle of Mujar power, hastening after him as he strode along it, fearful of being left behind. The walls of sand stood poised on either side like frozen, cresting waves, and the bitter wind sent gritty cascades down on those who hastened below. Chanter set a gruelling pace, never slowing, carrying Talsy's body as if it weighed nothing.

  Kieran fretted on the litter, wondering why the Mujar had not healed him before setting out across the desert. The doctor's draught was wearing off, and he sensed the creeping lethargy taking hold again as the fever burnt in his blood. The Queen returned to walk beside him and place cool cloths on his brow as he sweated and tossed, then he sank once more into darkness.

  Chapter Ten