Broken World Book Two - StarSword

by Southwell, T C

  Chanter waded through the shallow river that marked the boundary of the sphere of the Staff of Law and climbed the grassy bank on the far side. The early morning light gilded frosty grass and ice-edged leaves. Frozen spider webs hung like diamond necklaces between the trees' branches. He knelt and laid Talsy's body on the grass, then stood. The exhausted rebels staggered from the river and flopped down with weary groans. The all-night march had taken most of their strength, and many straggled far behind. The Queen had kept up with Ardel and Roth's support, staying close to her son's litter.

  The Mujar beckoned to the litter bearers, who approached to lay their burden at his feet when he indicated that they should do so, then moved away to rest. The Queen tottered over, dragging her two supporters. Chanter glanced at her as he knelt beside Kieran. Kamish sank down beside the litter, gazing at the Mujar with pleading eyes.

  Chanter pulled off the shawls that covered Kieran, scooped water from the river and poured it over the unconscious Prince.

  "What are you doing?" Kamish demanded. "He has a fever!"

  Chanter held up a finger, stilling her protests as he summoned Shissar. Its gentle mists and water sounds engulfed the people around the litter. Laying his hands on Kieran, he let the healing power flow through him in a soothing tide. Kamish gasped as the gash on Kieran's cheek closed, sealing together into a faint pale scar. The feverish flush faded from his skin and his laboured breathing eased. Kieran opened his eyes, looking confused as he glanced around with a frown. The Queen gave a cry of delight and raised a trembling hand to her lips, as if to hide her smile of relief. Kieran looked at Chanter as the Mujar sat back.

  "You bastard!" he said. His brow furrowed and his mouth twisted with fury. Rolling off the litter, he lunged at Chanter, reaching for the Mujar's throat. Taken by surprise, Chanter fell backwards. Kieran bore him to the ground, straddled him and gripped his throat, using all his strength to beat the Mujar's head on the earth. Chanter gripped Kieran's wrists in a token gesture of struggle. Kamish gave a cry of horror and Roth grabbed Kieran, trying to drag him away. The Prince sobbed as he shook the Mujar with hysterical strength.

  "You let her die!" he shouted. "You let him kill her! How could you? You useless bloody Mujar! Why?"

  "Gods! Highness, let him go!" Roth entreated, struggling to haul Kieran away. "He's Mujar! Don't you know what he can do?"

  "I know what he is!" Kieran roared, becoming more incensed by the reminder. "And I know what he can do!"

  "Stop it, Kieran!" Kamish shouted.

  "Highness, please!" Ardel yelled, wringing his hands.

  Kieran released Chanter, but, as Roth dragged him away, kicked the Mujar in the gut hard enough to make him grunt. Roth watched with deep trepidation as Chanter sat up, holding his belly.

  Kieran sneered, "He won't do anything, damn him!"

  "He might leave us here to die!" Kamish wailed.

  "We're going to die anyway, now that Talsy's dead! Aren't we, Chanter?" Kieran said.

  Chanter ran a hand through his hair, averting his eyes, then jumped up and strode over to Talsy's body. Kieran shook Roth off and went after him. The Mujar scooped up the dead girl, turning away.

  "Where are you going?" Kieran pursued him angrily. "Answer me, damn you! What are you doing with her?"

  The Mujar marched towards the forest, and Kieran trotted after him, clearly furious at being ignored. Roth started to follow, then stopped and watched them go, as if sensing that his presence would be unwelcome at this emotional time.

  Within the wood, Kieran almost lost sight of the Mujar, so swiftly did he move through the trees, and concentrated on keeping up. Deep in the green-tinted gloom, Chanter stopped beside a pool nestled amid mossy stones and bracken. He laid Talsy's body on the ground and turned as Kieran stumbled up, panting.

  "What are you doing? Are you going to bury her here?" he demanded.

  Chanter frowned and held a finger to his lips.

  "What?" Kieran snorted. "You think I'll wake the dead?"

  The Mujar's hand flashed out in a stinging slap that made the Prince gasp and step back in surprise. He stared at Chanter, who again signalled him to be silent. The slap knocked some of the rage from the Kieran, reminding him of the Mujar's strength. Chanter knelt beside Talsy's body and arranged her arms at her sides, stroking the tangled hair from her face. Kieran's eyes burnt with unwelcome tears as Chanter uncovered the Mujar mark on her brow. He frowned in surprise, for the mark now gleamed silver.

  Chanter sat back on his haunches and held out his right hand, palm up in the enigmatic Mujar gesture. A glow appeared in it, then faded, leaving a brown nut. Kieran's eyes darted between the Mujar's placid face and the incongruous nut. Chanter smiled at the nut and gestured with his left hand.

  "Come to me."

  Kieran glanced around in puzzlement, for they were alone in the glade. Chanter gestured again, and the nut in his palm swelled. It glowed with a soft green light, then stretched and grew, taking on pearly gleams and soft glimmers of green, gold and rosy pink. The light swirled and pulsed, settling into a steady shine. Chanter now held a short, glowing staff no more than two paces long, a featureless shaft of soft light. Looking at it, Kieran experienced a surge of happiness and a sensation of boundless energy. Laughter bubbled up in him, at odds with his sorrow. A rush of questions flooded his mind, and he bit his lip to keep them from trotting off his tongue.

  Chanter bent to kiss the Mujar mark on Talsy's forehead, and it turned blue. He laid the staff lengthwise on her breast, then put his mouth over hers and breathed air into her. Chanter raised his head and waited as she sighed and drew in another breath. He kissed her again, and her breath quickened to shallow gasps. Kieran was as tense as a coiled spring, willing her to live, praying to unknown and alien gods for this miracle to unfold.

  Chanter sat back and picked up the staff, turning it vertical. With slow deliberation, he thrust the shaft of light into her chest. Kieran bit back a cry of horror as it sank into her, his hands clenched to prevent himself from interfering with this strange and distressing ritual. The sight was harrowing, alien to Kieran's mind and sensibilities. It filled him with revulsion despite the beauty of it and the knowledge that Chanter endeavoured to bring her back to life. When the staff had all but vanished through her chest, Chanter pulled it out again.

  Talsy opened her eyes, drew in a great gasp, and screamed. The anguish in her cry tore at Kieran like a hot knife through his heart. Torment, terror and despair mingled on her face, twisting it. Chanter dropped the staff and gathered her into his arms, pressed her face to his shoulder and cradled her close. She gasped and wailed again, her eyes wide with terror, staring into space as if seeing an apparition. She struggled against his comforting arms as though frantic to escape him. He rocked and stroked her hair, crooning.

  "Regret, my little clan. Much, much regret. Please forgive me."

  Talsy flailed at him and keened her misery and pain in a tortured, wordless cry. Chanter's eyes overflowed with crystal tears that fell like glowing blue jewels, the embers of Mujar fire. Talsy's sobs tore through her in a storm of terrible anguish, and she clung to him now with arms that trembled and hands that dug into his skin. He wept as if he had no control over it, his tears like tiny blue flames that ran over her skin. Apparently unable to bear it any longer, he placed a hand on her forehead.

  "Sleep."

  Talsy went limp with a sigh. Chanter bowed his head, then raised empty eyes to meet Kieran's anguished gaze. He brushed at the wetness that threatened to spill from his eyes, his throat tight and his chest swollen with joy.

  "What have you done?" he grated.

  "Brought her back from the dead."

  Kieran shook his head, confused. "And you ask her forgiveness?"

  "For her suffering. She should not have gone through it."

  "It was Tyrander - "

  "It was my fault," Chanter stated. "I sent you instead of going myself. She's my responsibility, not yours."

  Kieran hesitated, o
pened his mouth to refute this, then shut it again. Chanter gazed at him, apparently unashamed of the tears that still clung to his cheeks, or perhaps unaware of them. His lack of expression made Kieran wonder if the Mujar experienced any emotion at all.

  "Why do you weep?" he asked.

  Chanter wiped a teardrop from his cheek and examined it, looking thoughtful. "I seem to be sharing her emotional trauma."

  "Then it's true, isn't it? Mujar have no emotions."

  The Mujar looked down at the sleeping girl, his expression becoming shuttered.

  Kieran cursed himself. Just when Chanter opened up a little, dropped his guard and answered a few questions, he spoilt it with an accusation. Before he could think of a way to make amends, Chanter shifted Talsy into a more comfortable position, cradled her head in one hand and traced the mark on her brow with the other.

  "Let pain fade away, let sorrow depart," he intoned, "Be at peace and refreshed, there is nothing to fear. Awake."

  Talsy opened her eyes and gazed up at Chanter blankly. Her face twisted and she wept again, but with sadness instead of terror. He rocked her and hummed in a comforting tone, which Kieran found oddly soothing, despite its lack of logical foundation. She pressed her face to Chanter’s chest and soaked up the solace he bestowed. When at last her whimpers subsided to jerky gasps, she wiped her eyes, her expression distant. A last tear coursed down his cheek, aglow with soft blue light. Talsy hiccupped and wiped it away, staring at it as if fascinated by the glowing blue liquid that clung to her fingers.

  "Regret," he said.

  Talsy shook her head and bit her lip as she studied the glowing drop. The emotional storm within her was reflected on her face, and her chin trembled as she fought for control. Chanter waited for her reply, and, whereas before his expression had been shuttered, now his sorrow was terrible to behold. Kieran swallowed a hard lump that formed in his throat. Never had he witnessed such powerful emotions, nor had he ever expected to see a Mujar weep. Then again, was Chanter's sorrow real, or a sham?

  Talsy looked up at Chanter, her mouth twisting as fresh tears threatened. "You let me die, Chanter! You let him kill me! I was alone..." She gulped and covered her face.

  "Regret, my little clan, very big regret," he murmured, holding her tighter. He was now deadpan, but anguish flashed deep in his eyes.

  She drew a deep, shuddering breath, wiping away her tears. "It was cold... and dark."

  "Death is not normally such a terrible thing."

  "Not unless you're trapped in your dead body," she retorted, her brows drawing together like storm clouds gathering.

  "Yes," he agreed. "There was no other way."

  Kieran cleared his throat, loath to interrupt this poignant moment with its brewing undercurrents of anger, but unable to stay silent any longer. "Will one of you explain this to me? I know that she's back from the dead, but how?" He looked at Talsy. "Why are you so upset? What did he do to you? Why did you seem so... frightened?"

  Talsy looked at him, her face drawn and pale. She flashed a brief, angry glance at Chanter, her expression mutinous. "Why don't you tell him, Chanter? Tell him what you did to me."

  The Mujar shot Kieran a warning look. "No."

  "Are you ashamed?" she challenged. "Are you embarrassed that you couldn't save me from Tyrander?"

  Chanter bowed his head in silent answer, avoiding her accusing gaze.

  Kieran tried to defuse the growing tension with another question. "Are you all right now?"

  Talsy looked away, and her eyes fell upon the shining staff that lay amongst the leaves. "What's that?"

  Chanter glanced at Kieran again, doubtfully. "The Staff of Life."

  "You used it to bring me back?"

  "Yes. I used it to revive your body and free your spirit."

  She shivered, some of the anger draining out of her. "I've never been so cold."

  "I had to make you cold to preserve your body."

  "Why did you take so long? You carried me for ages."

  "All night," he agreed. "I had to take you from the influence of the Staff of Law."

  "Why?"

  Once more he glanced at Kieran, obviously reluctant to explain such things in front of a Lowman other than Talsy, then sighed when she scowled at him. "What I did is forbidden. I let you die, who are the First Chosen. But I had no choice, so I trapped your soul within your flesh. The Staff of Law governs the staffs of Life and Death, but nowhere as strongly as within its sphere. Mujar are powerful, yet even we find it difficult to disobey the law of the land, and one of them is that the dead do not return to life. I carried you away from the Staff of Law to break that law. I had to."

  "You couldn't have revived me within its sphere?"

  He grimaced, a look of distaste. "I could have, but it would have shaken the very foundations of the world. Even so, there will be repercussions."

  Kieran leant forward. "So she really was dead?"

  "Yes."

  Talsy snorted, regaining some of her former spirit and shooting Kieran a glare. "My body was dead, but I was still in it. I've never had such a horrible experience, and I hope I never do again. I didn't appreciate your remarks, either."

  He frowned. "You heard me?"

  "That was why Chanter was trying to shut you up, moron!"

  Kieran shifted uncomfortably, trying to remember what he had said. "I didn't know. I was upset. He didn't tell me what he was going to do, or that he could bring you back to life. I thought... I thought he brought you here to bury you. I was angry that he'd let you die!"

  Talsy exuded ill-concealed resentment and Chanter was silent and withdrawn, his expression inscrutable. Aware that there were some things better left unsaid, Kieran rose to his feet.

  "I'll leave you two to talk."

  Talsy watched him stride away through the trees. He knew that the Mujar would not speak freely in front of him, and she appreciated his unexpected tact. She flexed her aching fingers, her flesh still chilly. Chanter leant forward and picked up the staff, pressing it into her hands. She recoiled a little, but he folded her fingers around it.

  "Hold it, it will do you good."

  "Is it safe?"

  He smiled. "The Staff of Life? Of course. Rest assured, I would not press the Staff of Death into your hands."

  Talsy gripped the shining staff, which exuded warmth that eased her aches and filled her with a wonderful sensation of boundless vitality. She caressed it, enjoying the silken feel of its bright surface and the happiness it shared with her. Its touch made her want to leap up and dance, sing with joy.

  "Can I keep it?"

  He shrugged, still smiling. "Sure, why not? But not in this form. It's a little obvious, don't you think?"

  "I like it."

  "Of course you do. Who wouldn't?"

  Talsy rubbed the staff, fascinated by the slow spirals of light that formed it and the surface she could feel but not see. "It's so... passive."

  "All the staffs are passive. That's their nature."

  "Even the Staff of Death?"

  He nodded. "Even that. But whereas this one makes you feel good and imparts joy and vitality, the Staff of Death would do just the opposite."

  She hugged the staff, and it seemed to nestle like a joyful puppy against her skin. "What about the Staff of Law?"

  "That's the most passive of the three. It would do nothing to you at all. The red desert follows it, though, and its sphere of influence is lifeless. Tyrander commanded it to form the oasis for his people and the castle in which he dwells, but usually nothing goes that close to it."

  "What will happen to Tyrander now?"

  "The Hashon Jahar will arrive soon, and he will die," Chanter assured her. "As an unchosen, that's his fate."

  "And he richly deserves it," she muttered. "To think that he thought he could outwit a Mujar, the pompous ass."

  "There was no outwitting involved. I had no other option."

  "But only a Mujar can bring back the dead," she pointed out.

  He look
ed away, frowning as if discomfited by what he had done. "Yes. The gift of Life is the greatest a Mujar can give. But it must be given before the spirit departs, which usually is mere seconds, depending, of course, on the manner of death."

  Chanter paused, as if to gauge her reaction to this information, since she had just undergone the terrifying experience herself. Talsy was unashamedly fascinated, so he went on, "If death is sudden, the spirit often lingers, but in the case of sickness or age it leaves swiftly, sometimes even before the body has ceased to breathe. I had to bind your spirit to your flesh so it could not depart, or else I would not have been able to revive you."

  "What would have happened?"

  He sighed, shaking his head. "Your spirit would have left, and I could not have brought you back. I would have restored life to a body with no soul, which would have been pointless."

  "How did you trap my spirit?"

  "The mark allowed me to. I bound your spirit before Tyrander killed you, which is why you felt no pain. I commanded the mark to take your spirit, which is like a flame burning within you, here." He touched the centre of her chest. "And diffuse it throughout your body. When it did that, it bled, and you went into a state of detachment."

  "I remember. It was like floating in a sea of darkness, though I could still hear people speaking." She frowned, thinking. "What else can you command this mark to do?"

  Chanter looked amused, his eyes sparkling at her concern. "Don't worry, nothing bad, I promise."

  "But what?" she insisted.

  "It would take me a thousand years to explain it all," he equivocated, then held up a hand when she opened her mouth to argue further. "Suffice it to say, it's like a conduit between us, through which I can command your body as if it was one of the Powers. But I would never use it except in extreme circumstances, to save you."

  "That's almost like I'm a part of you now," she breathed.

  "In a way. But don't get too excited," he warned. "It does have its limitations. I have to be near you, for one thing, though not actually touching. Touching is better, but not necessary. I can't explain it any more than that. You wouldn't understand."