Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law

by Southwell, T C

  “I think not, my little clan. Had you not shot me with your gold-tipped arrow, your race would have perished.”

  Talsy sat back and gazed up at the green leaves silhouetted against the dim brown sky, fleeting shafts of sunlight probing down to brighten the valley. Chanter stretched out his legs, holding her hand in a gentle clasp. To anyone who did not know better, she thought, they must look like a couple of lovers. How she still wished they were. In the six years they had spent in the valley, they had sat often like this in the garden, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence.

  When Chanter was away, Kieran would sit with her, but he had never held her hand. A pang of remorse went through her at the thought of Kieran’s patient love that she had rejected for so long, yet it was still there in his eyes whenever he looked at her. The one thing that prevented Chanter from being her lover would be gone in a couple of days, however. As soon as the laws were back, there would be no risk of her conceiving by him again. That realisation brought a surge of hope, and she turned to him. The Mujar seemed almost asleep, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open.

  She shook him. “Chanter!”

  “Mmm.”

  “Wake up.”

  “More questions?”

  She smiled. “One more.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you remember telling me that if it wasn’t for the chaos, you would have lain with me?”

  “Mmm, reluctantly,” he murmured.

  “The chaos will be over in a few days.”

  “So?”

  Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Will you come to my room tonight?”

  Chanter sighed, opening his eyes to study her. “Is this what you really want?”

  “Ever since the first night we spent together in that tent.”

  “What about Kieran?”

  “He’ll understand.”

  He frowned at the garden. “I want to make you happy, and if this is the way to do it, then I will, but on one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “When the testing is over, and you begin your new life, you will take Kieran for your husband.”

  Talsy found the idea quite appealing, and wondered if she could be in love with both of them simultaneously. “If he asks, and if you’ll still be my lover.”

  “I’ll see to it that he does, but I doubt he’ll be happy with that arrangement. It would be better if I stopped being your lover at that time.”

  “No. I won’t agree to that.”

  “I think you should, for your own good,” he said. “Once the laws are restored, the chosen will no longer require my protection, and I’ll be away quite a lot.”

  “I know. I won’t try to stop you leaving, but nor do I want to lose you completely.”

  “You won’t, but I think Kieran will object. Truemen, after all, have an emotion called jealousy, don’t they?”

  She smiled. “You’re getting to know us quite well, but many women have a husband and a lover, it’s not that unusual.”

  “But usually the husband doesn’t know about the lover.”

  “Then we won’t tell Kieran.”

  He regarded her doubtfully. “A lie?”

  “An omission. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

  “It doesn’t seem right. I’ll tell him of your condition, and let him decide.”

  “Then you will?”

  “If that’s your Wish.”

  “It is.”

  Chanter smiled, his expression tinged with sadness, and she knew he was not happy with the arrangement. His reluctance did not alter her determination, since it sprang only from his consideration of Kieran’s feelings, and not any dislike of his own. For more than eight years, she had yearned to have him as her lover, long before she had met Kieran, and although she loved the Prince too, her feelings for him did not diminish her passion for Chanter. She loved them both, but differently; Kieran for his gentleness and understanding, his ability to sympathise and enter into delightfully entertaining arguments in a way she completely understood. He was so utterly Trueman, so like her in many ways. She even won friendly disputes with him, and when she did he admitted defeat gracefully.

  Chanter, however, was enigmatic and alluring, his physical beauty and perfection offset by his strange mentality, at times frustrating when she failed to understand him. She found it almost impossible to argue with him. He seldom gave her the satisfaction, falling silent when she tried. Yet his alien attraction made her burn for his touch, and the memory of the day Travain had been conceived had not faded with time. The wonder of lying with a gentle demigod who could command the world held a powerful seduction that no Trueman could hope to match. She remembered vividly the day in the glade, when the Powers had swirled around them in a magical vortex that had left her gasping at the intensity of the passions he had evoked. Then she had tricked him, now she wanted to know what it was like to have him lie with her willingly.

  That night she waited for him in her room, breathless with anticipation. He came to her on the dusky wings of a raven, transforming in a rush of Ashmar to stand before her in the soft light of dusk. Talsy’s heart swelled with joy and tenderness, a huge lump blocking her throat as tears of happiness threatened to overflow. She stepped into this embrace, and his arms closed around her as he bowed his head, wings of jet hair brushing her skin like a slither of satin. Again she knew the wonder of his closeness, the utter lack of scent and the warm silken smoothness of his skin. She slid her hands under the ragged black leather jacket and eased it off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. Undressing him was like worship, slowly revealing every inch of his flawless body, unmarked by the changes in skin colour that Truemen suffered from the sun. She hated her own piebald flesh, tanned on the face and arms, the rest a sickly pale shade. She was at least slender and fit, her figure unchanged by Travain’s birth, save for the long pale scar that ran down the centre of her belly. When they were naked, Chanter lifted her chin with a slender hand.

  “Do you wish it to be magical?”

  Talsy nodded, her eyes glowing, and he smiled. Three Powers manifested together in a gentle wash of warm sweet air that sparkled and glowed with fire, misted by gentle rain and swirled to the beat of soft wings. He clasped her face and pressed his forehead to hers, and the dull room vanished.

  They stood upon the clouds, surrounded by the vast blueness of the sky, the land a hazy green swathe far below. Talsy gasped and clung to him, and he chuckled, enfolding her in a comforting embrace. A golden sunset warmed them with its brilliant rays and soft winds caressed her skin. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, revelling in the hard warmth of his chest and arms, secure in his embrace. He knelt and lowered her into the clouds’ gossamer mist, stretching out beside her.

  She gazed at him raptly. “Is it real?”

  “As real as you want it to be.”

  “I want it to be real.”

  “Then it is.”

  Something changed at that moment, a faint frisson of icy power that sent a delightful shiver up her spine. The soft touch of the clouds dewed her skin with water, and tiny flames surrounded her. She lay in a cocoon of fire and ice, floating on the ethers high above the world, and the man who lay beside her was a god to her. His skin glowed like molten gold, his eyes gleamed with the translucent azure of the sky and his jet hair held the depth of midnight heavens glinting with silver stars. She looked at herself, and gasped. Her skin glistened like alabaster, and the hair that fell over her shoulders shone in a riot of spun gold. She was a goddess lying in the arms of a god, and the beauty of it all made her laugh with joy and pull him closer. The world melted away into a warm wet swirl of elements.

  Talsy woke in her bed; Chanter sprawled beside her, snoring softly. She could hardly believe that what she had experienced had not been a dream; it seemed too fantastic to have been real, and she prodded the sleeping Mujar until he sighed and opened his eyes.

  “Was it real?”

  He smiled. �
��As real as you wanted it to be.”

  “Don’t give me that inscrutable Mujar crap.”

  “What does it matter?”

  She chewed her lip, unsure. “I need to know.”

  “It was real.”

  “We were floating in the clouds?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “I’m not capable of defying the laws of gravity, little one, at least, not with another’s body.”

  “Then what?”

  “The elements were real; I filled the room with clouds and fire and wind. The rest you shared from my mind, but it too was a real memory, not imagination, you understand?”

  She nodded, a lump blocking her throat. “It was beautiful.”

  “As I intended it to be, of course. When you tricked me, you cheated yourself of what I could provide. Now you truly know what it is to lie with a Mujar.”

  Talsy lowered her eyes shyly. “Have you lain with other women?”

  “Yes, but not like that. They were content merely with my touch and presence, but you asked for magic.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ah, Talsy, it was a gift. How can I deny you anything?”

  She sighed and pulled him close, content to lie in his arms until the dawn light brightened and the birds sang outside.

  That day, Chanter swept away the walls within the lowest part of the castle. Leaving smooth pillars of grey stone to uphold the rooms above, he created a vast chamber to accommodate the hundreds of chosen who would gather to witness the wielding of the staff.

  In the afternoon, he took the Staff of Law down and placed it at the centre of the room, awaiting Dancer’s readiness. A buzz of excitement filled the valley during the next three days of Dancer’s preparation, and each night Talsy knew the dream-like wonder of Chanter’s magic. Each time the visions were different. They lay together in the sea’s warm blue depths, frolicked in deep mountain snows and played in a mighty river’s rushing power.

  With him, she became a goddess every night, even gaining his powers with his consent and commanding the elements herself, sometimes with startling results. He laughed at her wonder and joy, shared his powers with a warm tenderness that at times made her weep from sheer happiness. Nothing could ever compare to the delight he gave her, using his powers to take her on magical journeys into the realm of dreams and fantasies. Her bliss swept away her worries about Travain’s fate, secure in the knowledge that he would survive the restoration of the laws, an outcome she had always hoped for.

  On the day of reckoning, a vast storm hung overhead. Ugly brown thunderheads rolled past, illuminated by sheets of purple lightning. The earth trembled, and the people who gathered to witness the law’s restoration were glad to escape the downpour of purified rain that swept the valley outside. While they waited for Dancer to make his appearance, Talsy and Chanter stood in the doorway and watched the storm rage outside the barrier of his power.

  “It’s a bad one, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Mmm. For those in the chaos, yes. The rain that falls there is acid, and will kill anything it touches.”

  “How can that happen?”

  “The elements are mixing now. The clouds are filled with Dolana, particularly sulphur from the volcanoes. This, mixed with other things, makes an acid. Just as the sea is filling with Dolana, so is the sky, and if the laws were not restored, soon there would be no more land, sea or air, just a mixture of everything in a cauldron of wild elements and raging wind that nothing could live in, like the worlds the gods have never touched.”

  “You could live in it.”

  He smiled. “Yes, but I would not wish to.”

  A grey dove fluttered out of the rain and landed at their feet. It shook water from its feathers, then transformed in a gust of cold wind. Dancer looked nervous, and, at Chanter’s gesture, softened his tallana so Chanter could clasp his shoulder in a reassurance. Chanter urged him into the vast hall, were a murmuring crowd stood around the walls. At the Mujars’ entry, it fell silent, watching the two approach the Staff of Law. Travain waited with his arm around the shoulders of a plump Aggapae girl with soft brown eyes and sun-streaked hair.

  Talsy went over to him. She did not know where amongst the thousands of laws the one that would change him would be, but did not think that Danya should be beside him when his fate struck. She advised the girl to stand with her parents, stilling Travain’s protests with a steely look. He sighed and turned his attention to the staff as Danya left. Kieran joined them, standing on the other side of Talsy, and she was glad of his solid presence.

  Chanter and Dancer stood beside the staff, the young Mujar plucking up the courage to begin his long ordeal. He seemed uncertain, but his time in the wilds had filled him with the purity and power only a Mujar could contain. Thousands of glowing golden lines ringed the staff’s gnarled stone, each a sentence of illegible script. It radiated power in a strange, passive way, bestowing neither joy nor sadness, but a strong sense of order. At Dancer’s nod, Chanter addressed the Staff of Law.

  “Staff, begin.”

  The first law scorched the air with golden fire, written in the strange angular runes that covered the staff, unreadable to anyone but Dancer. The youngster gazed at the burning words, then stepped up to the staff and gripped it with one hand. The staff hovered several inches above the floor, towering over the Mujar. His eyes swept the sea of faces that the guttering torches on the walls lighted, lingering for a moment on Travain. Turning back to the golden words, he read them again, then spoke slowly, with grave intonation, his face devoid of emotion.

  “Mujar ess Hashon isharak con torra. Life and Death shall never mingle.”

  Dancer pulled the staff down as he spoke the god words, and its foot struck the ground with a mighty boom that shook the castle’s foundations. As it struck, a sheet of golden fire spat from the first line of writing, swept outwards in a ripple of flame that hissed through the stone walls all around them and vanished into the world. People ducked and cried out in fear, but the fire harmed no one, not even those it passed through.

  Out in the chaos, not far from the vanishing red desert, a mighty black monolith loomed ugly and corrupted over the blighted land. Neither dead nor alive, it tore apart in a crack of thunder as the sheet of golden fire passed through it. A rain of ash fell, and two spots of power appeared in its place, hanging in the air like stars, one radiating pale brilliance, the other a point of utter darkness. For an instant they hung, then the brilliant one turned into a brown nut and fell to the ground, the other became a bleached bone. The Staffs of Life and Death lay not far from each other, forever parted.

  The Torrak Jahar, galloping in pursuit of fleeing Truemen, stumbled and fell. Some smashed on the hard ground, others slowed like clockwork toys unwound, the light of their sullen yellow eyes snuffed out. Their victims turned to stare at their former hunters with hollow, grateful eyes, remembering the sheet of golden fire that had hissed over them moments before. The living rock ceased to grow, the elementals of fire and wind fell apart and blew away. Creatures of stone and soil slumped, giving up their corrupted life. The walking corpses of those who did not know they were dead fell and did not arise. A gentle wind began to blow, fluttered dead leaves and broke the hush that had fallen when the first law traversed the land.

  The staff floated up, and the line of golden writing changed. Dancer read it, and spoke again. “Isha ess amon isharak bacha tosh alchon. Day and night shall follow each other. “

  He pulled the staff down, and the foot struck the floor with another thunderous boom, shaking the castle. Golden fire spat from the second line of writing and hissed away in a ripple of flame. A shudder passed through the ground, and the staff floated up once more. The burning words changed, and Dancer read them.

  “Dolan, shissa, ashmar ess crayash isharak ton deva rullon ess shava chrujon. Land, sea, air and fire shall have separate dominions and equal power. “

  The staff struck the ground with a boom that rattled the windows, and golden fire hissed away from
the third line of writing.

  In the chaos, the golden fire whispered across the land in a spreading circle, like a ripple in a pool, spreading out in all directions from the valley of its source. The clouds loosed their burden of Dolana in a storm of falling dust. The sky turned blue, and the clouds grey and fluffy white. The sea turned aquamarine as the silt that killed its fish sank to the bottom, allowing the beleaguered water breathers to shake the dirt from their gills and breathe easily again. The streams cleared, the lakes became blue, and the burning land extinguished with a dull thud. Fiery rain turned to water, rivers of acid dried up. Skinny, weary people emerged from their shelters of stone and dried mud to stare up at a sky of perfect blue and count the white clouds that marched across it. The gentle breeze gusted, lifted dead leaves from forest floors, and strengthened to a soft wind.

  Talsy glanced out of the window and gave a cry of joy, drawing everyone’s attention to the indigo sky above the valley. While they gazed, entranced, at its beauty, Dancer brought the staff down and spoke the fourth law.

  “Ast theja isharak ot jashor purderos. All things shall be drawn downwards.”

  The boom rolled away with the hissing fire, but no discernable difference could be sensed. Only those who had ventured into the chaos knew that now the streams and rivers would resume their flow to the sea, and those things that flew but where too heavy for flight would plummet to the ground.

  The staff floated up, and the writing changed. Dancer read it.

  “Dolanoras isharak jor imdar echerin moranoch. Earth blood shall run deep within the world. “

  Again, as the fire hissed away, accompanied by the boom of the staff striking the floor, nothing appeared to happen, not even a shudder. Talsy, however, knew that all the foul black rivers would cease to run, and the corruption beneath the soil would sink back into its proper place. This was the fifth law, and she wondered when they would come to the one that would decide Travain’s fate. It appeared that the first laws dealt with the world in general, its construction, makeup and behaviour. The sixth law ordered the changing seasons, which had been erratic since the breaking of the staff, and the seventh ordered the weather to follow its rightful course. The eighth law was a long one, and brought a glad sigh from the chosen as the staff boomed onto the floor and the fire hissed away.