She snuggled closer to him, enjoying this rare time spent in the comfort of his arms and not wishing it to end. Shooting him a coy glance through her lashes, she asked, "Are you really more powerful than the Staff of Law?"
Without any sign of smugness, he nodded. "The staff’s power is different to mine. It is a guarding force, a keeper of the laws, nothing more. It commands a little Dolana and Crayash, from which it is made. It formed the oasis in its desert and the castle with Dolana, but that was unnatural. It uses fire to write its words, that's all."
"How is its power different?"
He shot her a smile, his eyes bright with laughter. "You have many questions for me now, don't you?"
"You owe me," she reminded him.
"I know. There's nothing I wouldn't tell you now. As we have travelled this road together, I have fallen slowly into your debt. But Mujar secrets can be a heavy burden to bear, and you can never tell them to anyone else."
"Perhaps Kieran should know some of it too. He's special, you know. He must feel left out."
He picked up a golden-brown leaf and toyed with it. "I thought you didn't like him?" She pulled a face, and he smiled at her discomfiture. "Perhaps soon I'll talk to him. He was very angry with me for letting you die. He tried to strangle me."
"He did?" Talsy was incredulous, then giggled. "Trust him!"
The Mujar nodded. "That's why I let him follow me here to watch."
Talsy shuddered and hugged the staff, her amusement fading with the memory of her ordeal. "Don't ever do that to me again."
"I won't." He took her hand and squeezed it. "I didn't want to do it."
"I screamed and screamed, but no one heard me, no one answered." She gulped. "I was trapped in the dark and cold, all alone and afraid. I could hear you, so I knew that you were nearby, carrying me, but I couldn't touch you. I've never been so scared. It was awful."
Chanter held her a little tighter. Now that some time had passed and the staff gave her so much comfort, she was able to talk about it.
"I didn't know that you were going to release me," she went on. "I thought I had died and was going to stay there forever. Then Kieran asked if you were going to bury me." She shivered. "I'll never forget it."
"No, don't try to. Think about it and remember it. The more you do that, the less painful it will become."
Kieran wandered back into the camp, still stunned by what he had witnessed. He did not understand how, but Chanter seemed to have done the impossible. His gaze drifted over the slumbering forms of the rebels stretched out on the grass, overcome by exhaustion. A solitary figure sat slumped before a fire, head bowed, and Kieran went over to him. Roth jerked awake at his soft footfalls and looked up, relaxing with a sigh of relief. Roth fed wood to the fire as the Prince sat beside him, casting him a worried look when Kieran stared blindly into the flames.
"Did he bury her?" Roth asked.
Kieran dragged himself from his thoughts. "What? Oh, no. He brought her back to life."
Roth stared at Kieran, then shook his head. "Mine was a foolish question, I grant you, but that's a bad joke, Highness."
"I'm not kidding." He met Roth's startled eyes. "You'll see."
"How could he do such a thing? It's impossible!" Roth protested. "She was dead for a whole night."
Kieran nodded. "Well, he did it. Trapped her soul inside her or something. He's Mujar."
"Indeed, Highness, I need no reminding of that." Roth considered. "He's very strange."
"Strange? In what way? I know he's different, but how do you find him strange?"
"It's his eyes, I think," Roth mused. "The way they shine. When he looks at you, they cut into you like knives. He seems to look right into your soul, as if your flesh was glass. Cold, too. No emotions, no expression. Makes me shiver whenever he looks at me."
"Mmm. Shining eyes, people call them, or... what was the other name for them?"
"Who, Mujar?"
"No, their eyes."
"Oh." Roth pondered a moment. "Burning eyes, wasn't it?"
"That's it. The accursed undying with the burning eyes. Sounds pretty scary. No wonder people fear them."
"Used to," Roth corrected. "No one's seen one for so long, most people have forgotten what they're like. Just legends now: old folktales to scare the children. I remember my ma telling me about them, how they ate little boys who were bad. Everyone hated them for being different, not Trueman, not mortal, not flawed. Like brain-damaged gods, capable of anything, good for nothing."
"Mmm." Kieran stared into the fire, not really listening.
"He wasn't angry then, that you attacked him?"
"Huh? No, he didn't seem to be, but then, what harm could I possibly do to an immortal?"
Roth nodded, and they stared into the fire for several minutes, sunk in their thoughts. Roth yawned and broke the silence. "She's all right then, the First Chosen?"
The Prince looked up and nodded. "A bit shaken, that's all. Woke up screaming and tried to rip his head off." Kieran smiled. "I don't think she enjoyed the experience."
"Who would?"
Roth tossed another stick into the fire, glancing around at the slumbering people stretched out on the grass, the blue sky and gurgling river. Fluffy white clouds floated past at a leisurely rate, and birds sang in the woods nearby. The scene hummed with sublime beauty, untouched and pristine, a world carved from the bedrock of time.
Roth glanced at the pensive Prince. "Why do I get the feeling that we're sitting in the eye of a storm?"
"Because we are. The Hashon Jahar are scouring the dregs of Truemen from this world and the gods have ordained a gathering of the worthy, but most of all, a Mujar has broken the law."
"What do you mean?"
"Chanter broke one of the laws when he brought Talsy back to life. He said that there would be repercussions."
"What sort?"
Kieran shook his head. "I don't know."
"A pox on Tyrander, he's caused more trouble than he's worth." Roth winced. "Sorry, Highness."
"I never even knew him. He just looks like me. Rest assured, I don't mourn him."
Roth yawned, trying to cover it with his hand, his eyes watering.
Kieran turned to him. "Get some sleep, I'll stand watch."
"Thank you, Highness."
Roth moved away and stretched out, leaving Kieran to stare into the fire and dwell on his thoughts. Far from the blue skies that hung over him, he sensed that a storm had started to gather.
Talsy leant back against the broad trunk of an old silk wood tree, the staff cradled in her lap. Chanter sat opposite, cross-legged, in a Mujar's supple way. She would rather have remained in his arms, but he had made his discomfort known, forcing her to move away.
"Tell me the difference between your power and the Staff of Law," she demanded.
Chanter sighed and smiled, toying with the fallen leaves. "I thought I had side-stepped that question."
She shook her head, smiling at his attempted evasion.
"It's hard to explain."
"Try."
He fiddled with a leaf. "The Staff of Law keeps order. It ensures that everything grows or lives according to the gods' plan. It's more of a force than a power. The staff has very little actual power. I control the elements, as you know, and Life."
"Life?"
"Yes. When Tyrander asked the Staff of Law what Mujar are, it told him that we are Life. He misunderstood. We're not life as in a living creature, we control it." He looked away, frowning.
Talsy leant forward, her eyes on his profile. "You were about to tell me something really big, and you changed your mind, didn't you?"
"Yes, but you wouldn't understand, so don't ask me to explain it."
Her eyes narrowed. "If I ask you'll tell me?"
He nodded. "But don't."
"Okay. I won't." She stroked the staff. "Tell me about the wingless silver bird that fell from the sky."
Chanter looked at her despairingly. "Aren't you tired?"
&
nbsp; "No."
His gaze dropped to the staff. "Of course you're not." He sighed. "But you should rest. Give me the staff."
"No!"
"Talsy, give it to me."
She pulled a mutinous face. "You said I could keep it."
"I'll give it back."
Reluctantly she handed it to him, missing the warmth and comfort of it as well as the energy it imparted. Chanter tossed it into the air. "Go back."
The staff vanished, and a nut dropped to the leaves beside him. He picked it up and handed it to her.
"What's this?" she demanded.
"The Staff of Life."
"It's a nut!"
Chanter smiled. "Well if you knew what it was, why ask?" he teased, then relented at her glare. "That's the form it chooses to take, a nut, or an egg, sometimes a tiny seed."
Talsy studied it, sensing a slight warmth from it and a gentle feeling of well-being, but little else. She yawned. "Now I'm tired."
"Good. You need to rest; you've been through a lot." He looked around as a shiver passed through the ground.
"What was that?" Talsy sat up in alarm.
"The beginning of the repercussions. We should return to the camp. The people will need shelter soon."
"From what?" Even as she spoke, the forest darkened as the shafts of sunlight were blotted out.
Chanter pointed at the dark clouds that obscured the sun. "That."
Talsy tried to get to her feet and found that her legs would hardly support her. A terrible fatigue gripped her, making her eyes sag and the world spin. Chanter rose and swept her up in his arms.
"Give me back the staff," she muttered.
"No. You have to sleep."
Ignoring her slurred protests, he headed through the forest towards the camp. She yawned and tucked the nut into her bodice, then laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, surrendering the unequal battle against sleep.
By the time Chanter reached the river, the rebels were awake and alarmed. Thunder rumbled almost constantly and lightning strobed the sky in flashing fingers of fire. Thick black clouds marched overhead, heavy with unshed rain. The air had thickened with the tension of the coming storm, a thrill of building power waiting to be unleashed. The ground shuddered and shivered like the skin of a fly-bitten horse.
Chanter marched up to Kieran and dumped Talsy in his arms. "Take her."
"What the -?" Kieran looked down at his unexpected burden.
"Don't worry, she's asleep."
"In this?" He winced at the din around them.
"She's tired."
The Mujar swung away, and the sleeping girl cuddled up to Kieran like a kitten. He stared after Chanter in confusion, but he left without a backward glance. The Prince turned his back to the icy wind that sprang up to lash the trees. Roth struggled to keep his fire alight, and the Queen's ladies tried to shelter her with shawls. Kieran glared at the Mujar, who had stopped at the forest's edge.
"You picked a fine time to go wild."
Chanter turned to face the camp, where the rebels tried to make shelters out of blankets and clothes. He shook his head and smiled.
"Such little faith."
Summoning the Earthpower, Chanter gestured. The icy stillness clamped down for a moment, holding even the raging wind in its thrall. Then the manifestation vanished and the gale howled with renewed fury, moaning through the trees like a lost, tormented soul. Stone thrust up all around the chosen with a deep grating and grinding. Some of the women shrieked as the rock walls rose and curved inwards to form a rough shelter with a sloping roof. The only one unaffected by the sudden appearance of the warped bedrock was Kieran, who studied the structure with interest and satisfaction. Those not already under the shelter hurried to join their fellows, gathering around Roth's fire.
The black clouds released their burden, and rain slashed down in a hissing veil. Amid the thunder, lightning rent the sky with stark brilliance and deafening cracks, illuminating trees torn by the wind in a fury of unfettered power. It screamed through twisting branches, sweeping torrents of rain into curtains of greyness. Chanter turned away, rain streaming down his upraised face as he revelled in the storm's wild power. The wind tugged at him, urging him to join its race across the land and taste the savagery of its freedom.
Using the Dolana he still held, the Mujar became a black wolf with silver-blue eyes. He declined the wind's invitation, for there were others who needed his help now, and trotted into the forest. Within its protection the storm's muted fury roared overhead, and green leaves stripped from the lashing branches fell with the rain. His paws squelched on sodden earth, and trees around him creaked and groaned as they stood against the wind's might.
Kieran laid Talsy on a pile of blankets at the back of the stone shelter, pulling some over her. Her slumber was so deep that he pressed a finger to her throat to assure himself that a pulse beat there. He removed the blood-stained bandages on his arms and leg, revealing pale scars, and lay beside her to share his warmth. He glared at Kamish when the Queen approached and knelt beside the sleeping girl, gazing at her in wonder.
"Roth told me that she lives again," she murmured. "A miracle."
Kieran nodded. "Yes."
The Queen brushed tangled hair from Talsy's cheek. "Have I lost both my sons, Kieran?"
"You never had me."
She bowed her head. "No, I never did. Much as I longed for you, your father denied me my second son. For the sake of his succession, so there would be no doubt or fighting, he gave you away."
"You didn't stop him."
"I would have if I could, be he was the King."
Kieran gazed out at the storm. "Jossa was my father, and he raised me well. You have no claim on my affections."
The ground shivered as she nodded. "No, you're right, I have none. I lost Tyrander not long after you. I named him Tyran, which means 'wanted' or 'precious', a name very like yours. But by the time he reached the age of seven, I called him Tyrander, the unwanted. Even at that age he was evil. At eighteen he poisoned his father and took the throne, keeping me prisoner. Your father paid for his mistake, as have I."
Kieran shot her a hard look. "He cast me out to be raised as a peasant. But it was a good thing, or I might have turned out just as bad as Tyrander."
"No, I don't think so. You were different from the moment you were born, even though you looked the same."
Kieran turned away. "It doesn't matter. It's not about blame or revenge. I just don't know you."
Kamish nodded and started to move away. Kieran frowned, curious despite himself. "What does my name mean?"
She smiled. "It means 'brave', or 'valiant'.
Chanter found the chosen huddled in a narrow gulley, trying to shelter under a sodden collection of tents and blankets that they had strung across the chasm. The wind ripped gleefully at the coverings, allowing the driving rain to penetrate and soak the people under it. Children wailed as lightning illuminated the forest almost constantly now, and thunder all but drowned out the wind's screams as it savaged the treetops. Rain fell in torrents, and already dozens of rivulets flowed across the muddy ground.
Chanter wielded Dolana, the icy stillness once again freezing the storm's fury, then released it to ravage the forest in vengeance. The bedrock beneath the chosen thrust up through the running mud, carrying them with it. Most screamed in terror, clutching one another as they were lifted from the danger of the rapidly filling gully. Chanter shaped the rock into walls and a roof to shelter the battered and sodden chosen, who stared about in wonder at the earth's transformation.
Sheera released her hold on Shern to peer into the greyness. "Chanter!"
Shern glanced around. "Where is he?"
"Out there somewhere."
"Call him!"
"I just did," she snapped. "If he doesn't want to come, he won't."
Shern gestured at the wet, shivering people, some holding weeping children. "We need fire. All the wood is wet."
She leant further out of the
cavern. "Chanter! We need you!"
The sheets of rain made it impossible to see more than a few paces outside, and lightning stabbed her eyes. She jumped as a huge black wolf trotted out of the deluge and stopped to gaze up at her with fire-blue eyes. Shern recoiled with a curse, reaching for his knife, but Sheera raised hand.
"No, wait." She studied the wolf, who sat. "I think it's him."
Shern looked wary. "Ask him."
"We're cold, Chanter. May we have some fire?"
The wolf's eyes flicked past her to the huddle of sodden people who shivered within the shelter. His gaze came to rest on a few branches someone had gathered earlier in the hopes of building a fire, now soaked. The air filled with the screaming inferno of Crayash, and the wood burst into flames. Sheera turned to thank the wolf-Mujar, but Chanter had vanished into the storm once more.
Sheera joined the others around the fire, some stripping off wet cloaks and holding the children close to soak up the warmth. A few settled down to eat, their clothes steaming.
She swapped a look with Shern. "Something's going on. This storm isn't natural, and the earth is shaking."
He nodded. "At least we're safe for now. Let's just hope the Black Riders don't come by."
"I wonder what's caused this."
Shern took a loaf of bread from his satchel and offered her half. "I don't know, but I pity anyone out in it."
"At least Chanter's safe."
The Mujar loped up a steep hill, striving to gain height and freedom from the trees. The storm's fury lashed the forest until it seemed to cower, trees bending under its rage. Some fell, their roots ripped from the shivering earth, and tore into their neighbours, pulling them down too. Rivers rose, broke their banks and tore out more trees, washing away soil and rocks.
His tongue lolled as he padded up the slope, his steaming breath whipped away by the wind. He had to soothe the storm's fury and lessen its unbridled power to minimise the damage it was doing.
Broken World Book Two - StarSword Page 19