Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law (34 page)

“
Yes.” The Prince unbuckled the Starsword and let it fall. “I
don’t need this anymore. I won’t be fighting again.”

Chanter bent
to scoop up the sword, turning it in his hands. “Having it doesn’t
mean you have to kill with it. It’s a symbol of our friendship, a
gift from me to you. Don’t be so quick to cast aside a thing of
such value merely because it’s a weapon of war. A weapon isn’t
dangerous unless it’s wielded, and no law commands you to use it
for destruction. Remember, the Starsword also heals.”

Kieran paled
with mortification. “You’re right, I was too hasty.” He held out
his hand for the sword. “I’ll always treasure it; what I should
have said was I won’t ever use it to do harm again.”

“
I understand.” Chanter handed back the sword. “Your gesture
was well meant, and well taken. Let this be a symbol of the past, a
reminder of what has gone before. Let it never be raised in anger
again.”

The Prince
bowed his head. “It shall be so.”

Several hours
passed before all the survivors of the Lake of Dreams emerged, and
Talsy was horrified at their number. Less than a third of the
Truemen had survived the gods’ testing, and they appeared timid and
tearful, many comforting each other for the loss of friends and
family. Queen Kamish survived, but neither Roth nor Ardel did, and
only two of her men. Sheera emerged weeping, and clung to Shern
afterwards. Few casualties had stricken the Aggapae, none of whom
Talsy knew. King Ronos lost his son, Orland, but Merina survived,
as did her son, Urlik. Kieran swept his mother into his arms and
begged her forgiveness for his prior rejection, while she wept
tears of joy and shame.

Drummer and
Dancer came over to their father as he surveyed the people who sat,
dull eyed, or wandered around aimlessly in the bitter wind. They
stood patiently, joining him in his silent contemplation. Chanter
turned from his perusal when Talsy spoke.

“
They’re changed, aren’t they?”

He nodded.
“For the moment they’re sad and confused, but with time they’ll
grow to accept and value the lessons they’ve learnt. Tomorrow the
Hashon Jahar will arrive.”

“
How can you three destroy the Hashon Jahar? You refused to do
it before, even when they threatened you. How can you do it
now?”

“
When they arrive here, it will be time. The souls they carry
are unchosen, but their punishment is now over, and they long for
release from their suffering. To have destroyed the Hashon Jahar
before would have condemned the souls to be cast into the Lake of
Fire, for they would not have paid their penance. Now it’s time for
their redemption.”

“
On the Plains of Redemption,” she murmured, astounded. “Is
that why the gods named this place? Did they know what would happen
here? When did they give it that name?”

The Mujar
smiled and shook his head. “No, they didn’t plan this until they
decided to test your people, and sent Mujar amongst them. The plain
got its name long before, from the wingless silver bird that fell
from the sky, and landed over there somewhere.” He gestured
vaguely. “Its name was Redemption.”

“
Really?” She gazed in the direction he had indicated. “Can we
go and see it?”

“
Not now. There’s not much to see, anyway, it’s been lying
there for so long. When this is all over, I’ll show
you.”

Talsy hid her
disappointment and left the Mujar to find her friends and offer
them comfort. The Aggapae’s horses found their riders at sunset,
and the plains rang with joyful shouts and neighs of welcome. A
cold and cheerless night stretched ahead, and the chosen huddled
around guttering fires or crammed into the tents the horses had
brought. Food and water were in short supply, but no one
complained. As Talsy walked amongst them, she was struck by the
gentle sadness in their eyes and the serenity on their faces. The
chosen, it seemed, had discovered a whole new way of life, so much
so that she wondered if they had not outstripped her in spiritual
learning. She was invited into a tent with Sheera, Kamish, Danya,
Merina, Urlik and three other women, packed together for warmth.
All the tents were filled with women and children, while the men
braved the cold and huddled around the fires.

In the tent,
Sheera stared ahead with sad eyes, and Talsy sat beside her,
putting a comforting arm around the old woman. The seer turned to
smile at her, and Talsy was amazed at the tranquillity in her
eyes.

“
I don’t understand my test,” Sheera confided, “but I feel so
much better now.”

“
Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded. “I
think I was in a Pit, for it was dark and cold, but I could see the
Mujar in the oil, hundreds of them. One held out his hand, and I
tried to pull him from the oil, but he was very heavy, so much so
that I feared I would be pulled in with him, so I let go.
Immediately, I knew I had made a mistake. I had failed, so I
reached out again and grabbed him. I pulled and pulled, even though
I made no progress, and there were so many others, it seemed an
impossible task. I wanted to run away, for I couldn’t help them, no
matter how hard I tried.”

She sighed,
and a tear crept down her weathered cheek. “But I didn’t want to
give up, so I kept trying and trying. It seemed like days I spent
there, and my arm was ready to drop off, when he came free and
stood beside me. He was the one I loved, my Kuran, and he hugged
me... I looked around at all the others, and reached out for
another. He stopped me and said that one was enough, and I had
found the courage I had lacked all those years ago, and that he’d
forgiven me, even then.”

Talsy was
mystified. “What did he mean?”

Sheera dabbed
her eyes. “When he was taken to the Pits, they staked him out in
the village for two days and nights. All I had to do was free him,
but I was afraid. I thought the risk too great. I didn’t have the
courage. I was too frightened for my own life.”

“
I see. And you feel better now?”

Sheera nodded.
“I found the courage I lacked, and I realised that saving him was
more important than saving myself. I’ve been filled with guilt and
sorrow, until now. And he forgave me, too. I never knew that. I
always thought he would hate me for failing him.”

Talsy gave her
a sympathetic hug. “I’m glad.”

“
The next thing I knew, I was in this deserted village,
wandering through the empty streets,” Sheera went on. “There was no
one there, but Kuran walked beside me, and I held a golden chain
that bound him to me. I was happy that he was with me, but he
looked so sad. I asked him what he’d do if I let him go, and he
said that he’d fly away. I didn’t want him to leave me. I would be
alone without him, but I couldn’t bear to see him so miserable, so
I took off the chain.”

“
What happened?”

Sheera smiled.
“He flew away, but I was glad he was free. And before he did, he
told me his true name. He was called Drummer.”

Talsy nodded,
glancing around at the other women, who all listened raptly to
Sheera’s account. They looked away, none willing to share their
experiences, probably from shame. Talsy knew what all the tests had
been about, however. She did not need to hear their stories. Just
as Chanter had told her, the people were tested for love,
compassion, forgiveness and mercy in addition to the courage it
took to put it into action. Recalling her experiences with Chanter
on their long journey, she realised that she had passed all the
same tests, in reality.

At dawn’s
first light, Talsy crawled from the cramped tent onto frosty grass
and froze with a gasp of surprise and dismay. A host of Hashon
Jahar stood motionless not twenty paces from the tent. They waited
in long lines, four deep, their skins rimed with frost. Only the
wind’s faint keening broke the uncanny silence. The chosen who had
woken before her regarded their former enemies doubtfully, and
Talsy found that she too no longer feared the Black Riders. They
surrounded the camp in a sea of stone, their numberless forms
stretching away across the plateau and beyond, down onto the vast
golden fields below. Ebon lances rested in their stirrups, each
perfectly vertical and still. Only the flowing manes and tails of
their steeds blowing in the wind gave them movement. Their blank
stone faces stared ahead with empty eyes, and the lifeless steeds
stood with lowered heads, as if finally exhausted.

Sheera crawled
out of the tent behind her, gasped and grabbed Talsy’s arm. Her
shock turned to wonder as she gazed at the Hashon Jahar, taking, as
they all were, this rare opportunity to study the Riders up close.
Curiosity drove Talsy to walk closer to one and study its peaceful
stone visage’s noble features. Whose souls did it carry, she
wondered, and how had they died? What atrocities had those empty
eyes witnessed? Timidly she touched its armour-clad leg, sensing
the sorrow it carried within its cold flesh. An icy drain tingled
her fingertips, as though it sucked the life from her. She snatched
her hand away and retreated, then paused to stroke the steed’s
nose, as soft as a living horse, as cold as stone. It did not
breathe, nor did a pulse beat in its neck, and no spark of life
glowed in its empty eyes.

Shivering, she
joined Kieran, who stood with the rest of the chosen, gazing at the
Riders. She waited beside him, realising with a start that the
horses had gone. No one broke the eerie silence of the Hashon
Jahar, who awaited their destruction. How strange it was to stand
so close to the creatures that had wiped out every other member of
Truemankind, and not to fear them, she mused.

Talsy glanced
up as a shadow passed overhead, and three eagles glided down to
land on the grass. In a rush of Ashmar, they transformed together.
Talsy longed to run to Chanter’s side, but something told her to
stay where she was. He glanced back at her, shooting her a brief
smile. At the Mujars’ arrival, a flicker of animation passed
through the Riders. Many of the blank stone faces momentarily
changed, revealing a glimpse of a soul’s tormented visage. In
moments the ripple of reaction vanished, and the riders returned to
their static state.

For what
seemed like an eternity, the Mujar faced the Hashon Jahar. Only the
wind’s soft keening disturbed the dream-like hush. Then Chanter
looked at Drummer and made an enigmatic gesture, shattering the
tableau’s stillness. Drummer plucked a great drum, made from carved
wood and stretched hide, from the air. He set it on the ground
before him, its top reaching his waist. Chanter and Dancer moved
away from him, taking up positions with Dancer in the middle.

The wind died
away, ending the faint, mournful keening of its song, and Drummer
struck the drum. The boom rolled away into the silence, and he
struck it again, beginning a slow, monotonous beat. Just as slowly,
Dancer raised his hands to make the graceful Mujar gestures that
had always puzzled Truemen. Their meaning was no clearer now, but
their gravity and importance was obvious. His hands soared,
fluttered, weaved and braided the air in a way that fascinated the
eye. Drummer’s tempo quickened, and Dancer’s feet joined the
stately grace of his hands, floating over the ground in a
complicated pattern of steps.

The tempo
increased again, and Dancer leapt and twirled with grace no ballet
dancer could hope to emulate. All eyes were riveted to him, save
Talsy’s, who tore her fascinated gaze from Dancer to watch Chanter.
The oldest Mujar watched the dancer too, his eyes following the
flowing movements of his elder son. Dancer performed the Dance of
Destruction with tireless ease, his skin gleaming golden in the
soft, reflected light of the rising sun, which had not yet risen
above the mountains. Drummer’s beat increased yet again, and Dancer
seemed to float above the ground, cleaving the air with whipping
spins and lashing gestures that never faltered or lost their
flow.

As the first
ray of light probed through the snow-clad peaks and illuminated the
plateau, Chanter turned to face the Hashon Jahar. His hands hung at
his sides and his face was expressionless, but he filled his lungs
and chanted words that had no meaning for the Trueman watchers.
Each was clearly enunciated in a flat monotone that rose and fell
only slightly on a disharmonic scale. He spoke god words. Talsy
recognised the harsh language she had heard at the reading of the
laws. He repeated the verses over and over again, sometimes with
different inflections or words, and she wished she understood it.
She found the rhythmic chanting hypnotic. The drumming numbed her
brain and Dancer’s lithe grace was utterly captivating.

The verses
ended, and his chant became what seemed like a story, a flat
monologue without cadence or rhyme. Dancer’s feet flew over the
ground in a floating whirlwind, and Drummer’s meter slowed. The
Hashon Jahar stood unmoved and silent, but the chosen swayed to the
beat, their eyes glazed.

Chanter’s
story ended, and he switched back to the verses, then chanted
single words in a slowing tempo. Drummer’s beats followed him, and
the dancer’s steps slowed with it. A gasp went through the people
as the sky filled with glowing multi-coloured arches that ringed
the plateau with brilliant hues. Chanter and Drummer fell silent at
the same instant, the last word and drumbeat fading into a deathly
hush. Dancer froze in a crouched position and raised his head.

A pearly light
rose from the Hashon Jahar, like mist rising from a lake. The light
formed glowing spheres that drifted above the black statues,
hundreds, thousands, then beyond number. The lights floated
upwards, all moving in one direction. Those beyond the Mujar passed
overhead, those behind the chosen moved away, heading for the Lake
of Dreams. The chosen gaped at the drifting globes, as plentiful as
stars in a clear night sky. Many people wept, touched by the joy
that filled the air. Talsy turned to follow the souls’ progress as
they entered the Lake of Dreams. They vanished into the dimension
of soft misty light and pearly flowers, a peaceful realm untouched
by the rigours of life.