Broken World Book Two - StarSword (13 page)

They had
travelled for several hours now, and the sun descended, sending
golden beams to gild fallen leaves in dappled patterns, liming tree
trunks. From its position, she deduced that they headed south-west,
and wondered how they would manage at night. Surely they could not
keep riding; the horses needed rest. Her question was answered as
dusk fell, when they emerged into a grassy clearing.

A covered wagon
stood there, and two horses grazed at the end of long ropes. Five
black-armoured soldiers waited aboard the wagon, and roused when
the knights appeared. She was transferred to the wagon and laid
upon a pile of blankets and furs, made comfortable, though still
tied and fastened to the side of the wagon as well. The men only
spoke when the knights gave terse orders that they instantly
obeyed. Her captors ate some dried food before rolling up in their
cloaks, but offered her nothing, since that would entail removing
her gag.

Kieran eyed the
chosen, whose despondent expressions filled him with unease. Shern
came over, with obvious reluctance, to explain that four black-clad
Truemen had abducted Talsy. The Mujar scowled, turning away to gaze
into the forest.

Kieran stepped
in front of him. "We must get her back."

"Yes, we will."
He stared through Kieran, lost in thought. "Yet she is in no
immediate danger, or the Dolana would have warned me. You must go
after her."

"Tell me where
she is."

"I don't know.
As long as she isn't in danger, I can't locate her." The Mujar
narrowed his eyes. "She could call upon the souls to help her."

"Unless they've
gagged her," Kieran pointed out.

"Why would
they?"

"They might
have done it for the sake of peace and quiet."

Chanter smiled.
"Talsy would have called the souls before then."

Kieran swung to
confront Shern. "Why did they take her? Did they try to take any of
the other women?"

The seer shook
his head. "Only Talsy. It was as if they knew who she was. They
grabbed her and made their escape before we could do anything to
stop them." He wrung his hands, glancing at the pensive Mujar. "We
chased them, but they were mounted."

Kieran turned
back to Chanter. "Can't you turn into a bird and find her? It
wouldn't take long if you flew."

"No," Chanter
replied. "The Hashon Jahar are too close, and from the sky, the
forest is an impenetrable green blanket. I would see nothing. I
have to take care of these people and return for the chosen we left
behind."

"I thought you
cared about her. Isn't she important to you?"

The Mujar's
cold eyes burnt into his, making him look away. "You must find her
and bring her back."

"Then I'll go
now," Kieran said, spinning away.

"Wait," Chanter
called, stopping him despite his anxiety to set off after Talsy. He
turned and scowled.

"You have no
weapon," Chanter pointed out.

Kieran’s hand
dropped to his empty scabbard, and he groaned. "If only I'd kept
that sword! I'll have to return to the city."

"No, the Hashon
Jahar are still there. I'll make you a weapon."

"You will?"

"Yes."

Chanter glanced
at Shern, who gaped at him. He beckoned to Kieran, turned and
stalked into the woods, leaving Shern to gaze after them in
frustration. Kieran followed, puzzled by his offer, which seemed
out of character for him. Although he did not expect an answer, his
curiosity prompted him to ask, "How can a Mujar make a weapon?"

Chanter looked
back at him. "It's not forbidden."

"But Mujar
don't kill."

"Nor will
I."

Kieran frowned.
"The weapon you make will."

The Mujar
shrugged, threading his way through the thickening trees. "But I
shall not wield it, and the First Chosen needs help."

Chanter's
unusual openness surprised Kieran, but, when he pondered what he
had learnt, he realised that he had gained nothing from the
conversation that he did not already know. Chanter led him deep
into a thick stand of trees, where he turned to face him.

"I intend to
make a blade that only you can wield, so I need you here."

"Will it be as
good as the black sword?"

"Better."

Kieran looked
uneasy. "What must I do?"

"What I tell
you."

Kieran nodded,
and Chanter bent and laid his palms on the leafy ground. Dolana
clamped down, freezing the air into eerie silence for a moment.
Kieran took a deep breath as the manifestation released him, and
the Mujar straightened. He held his hands before him, making odd,
graceful motions with his fingers, as if pulling a thread so fine
that to clasp it would break it. Chanter raised his head and
invoked Crayash.

Kieran gasped
and reeled as the screaming inferno engulfed him, fighting the urge
to beat at the spectral flames. The illusory fire lasted only a few
seconds, and Kieran swallowed the sooty after taste. The Mujar
continued to make slow beckoning motions to the earth, and now tiny
flames danced around his fingers, following their graceful motions
in a stately gambol of golden sparkles. A chill invaded the air,
and frost formed on the ground in a circle of glittering ice. It
spread outwards in a creeping white carpet that almost immediately
melted at the centre.

The soil
beneath Chanter's beckoning hands thrust up and opened like a
blossoming earthen flower. Crumbling petals of soil fell away into
a mound as others opened within them. More and more pushed up,
opened and fell aside, until a heap of freshly turned earth had
formed. The last of the frosty circle melted away as something
intensely hot rose from the centre of the mound. Kieran retreated
as a glowing spear of molten metal thrust up. Shimmering heat waves
surrounded it, and the fallen leaves curled and crisped at its
proximity. The Mujar was unaffected, his hands spread towards it as
if to soak up the pleasant warmth of a campfire. The long spear of
white-hot metal hung in the air, turning slowly.

Chanter stepped
closer and caressed the burning steel, his fingers engulfed in
blue-white flames. Kieran stifled an involuntary grunt of amazement
and winced. Chanter handled it as tenderly as he might the soft
skin of a lover, his hands flowing over it. With slow, graceful
motions, he moulded the molten steel, stroking the length of it
until it formed a slender glowing blade as straight and true as the
best Kieran had ever seen. With a delicate touch, the Mujar
smoothed the blade, flattened and lengthened it, drawing it to a
fine edge. With one finger, he drew the blood groove down its
centre, then slid his hands up to the rough, unformed hilt.

The metal
seemed to writhe in his hands, forming, as if of its own volition,
the crossbar and hilt. Chanter closed his eyes and smiled, his
expression ecstatic as he caressed the forming metal, whose shape
grew more intricate. Tiny lines crazed it, swirling into strange
patterns that held a mysterious meaning, a sense of forests and
land, of snow and sunlight, wind and sea. The pattern spread down
the blade, filling it with enigmatic lines of Mujar power, then
they sank into it and vanished, leaving it mirror smooth. Only the
lines on the hilt remained, imprinted on the glowing metal.

Chanter opened
his eyes. His hands closed on the hilt, and he plunged the blade
into the ground with a soft hiss, steam rolling up it. When the
glowing sword was buried to the hilt and the cloud of steam had
almost obscured him, he released it and made another series of
strange, slow gestures. Frost covered the hilt in a flash of icy
white, then melted away as Chanter took hold of the sword again. He
pulled it out, the shining blade now as black as the night sky. The
hilt held tiny glints of silver, flowing lines that gleamed along
the inscriptions. He released the sword, and once more it hung in
the air before him, turning slowly. Spreading his hands, the Mujar
drew patterns of blue fire in the air, strange symbols that held no
meaning for Kieran. With a flick of his fingers, he sent the fiery
runes into the sword. They kissed the blade in a flash of white
fire and vanished into the metal.

Chanter turned
to Kieran, his eyes glowing with the light of his power. The sword
that hung in the air moved with him, and swung towards Kieran, who
backed away.

"Take it."

After a
momentary hesitation, Kieran reached for the weapon. His hand
closed around the smooth, cool hilt, which fitted into his palm as
if it had been born there. A faint vibration ran through it, a soft
thrum of power that thrilled and frightened him. Slowly he raised
it, swinging the point upwards. The weapon lifted easily, almost
weightless, with buoyancy that seemed to magnify his movement, as
if it was an extension of him. Never had he held a weapon so pure
and true, balanced as perfectly as Nature itself. Experimentally he
swung it, fascinated by the ease with which it obeyed him, having
none of the heaviness and momentum of an ordinary blade.

"Release
it."

With a startled
glance at the Mujar, Kieran obeyed, and the sword floated free once
more, swinging point down. Chanter beckoned, and the sword flew to
him, stopping within his reach. He grasped it and flung it into the
air. Kieran stepped forward with a startled exclamation, but
Chanter ignored him, his eyes fixed on the rising, tumbling blade.
It rose high above the treetops, flashing in the golden light of
the setting sun, flung higher than Kieran would have thought
possible.

As it started
to descend, Chanter raised an arm and pointed at it. A flash of
blue-white fire shot from his finger and engulfed the sword. A loud
crack ripped the air as the weapon seemed to explode in a shower of
bright sparks. The flaming blade plunged to earth, and the Mujar
stepped back as it thudded into the ground where he had been
standing. Buried to the hilt once more, the sword sizzled amid a
cloud of steam. Chanter pulled it out with a swift yank. It
appeared unchanged, apart from a faint blue sheen that now ran
along the ebon blade, and, as the Mujar turned it, it flashed
silver.

Chanter raised
the weapon before him and kissed the blade just above the hilt. The
Mujar mark formed on it like a blossoming flower inscribed in
silver, a simple circle with a cross through it, like the one on
Talsy's forehead. Chanter caressed the blade, running his fingers
along it. Raising his eyes, he looked at Kieran.

"Use it well,
Kieran. It is forever yours. No one but you may wield it. It's a
Mujar weapon, the first of its kind. It's endowed with two Powers.
Earth and Fire. It will cut stone like butter, and if you point it
at something and speak the word 'fire', whatever it points at will
burn."

Holding it
across his palms, he offered it to the warrior. Kieran almost
wanted to kneel when he took it, a strong sense of reverence
filling him. Resisting the urge, he took the sword. His eyes were
drawn to the ebon blade, and he studied it, then found that he was
gazing into it. Like a piece of the heavens, a blade made from the
firmament, it held a night sky filled with stars within it. He
returned to reality with a jerk as Chanter clasped his
shoulder.

"Don't stare at
it."

Nodding, he
turned it, studying it without allowing his eyes to be captured by
the starry sky it held. "I shall call it Starsword."

The Mujar
smiled. "A good name."

"What else can
it do?"

"Many things,
but you know enough."

"But surely, if
it's mine..."

Chanter turned
away, running a hand through his hair. "You'll discover the rest of
its secrets in time."

"You say that
no one can wield it but me, yet surely you can?"

"I have no wish
to."

"So you
can...?"

The Mujar
glanced at the weapon. "I created it." He hesitated. "Just one word
of warning. Don't ever use it for evil or selfish gain."

"What will
happen?"

Chanter strode
away through the forest. "Let's hope you never find out," he called
over his shoulder.

Kieran hurried
after him, still studying the sword, turning it in his hands. He
marvelled at its beauty, discovering that the Mujar mark was on
both sides of the blade just below the hilt. Somehow, the mark
spoke volumes about the weapon's nature, created by the peace
loving Mujar who would not kill.

"Put it away,"
Chanter said without turning his head, and Kieran slid the blade
into his scabbard. It swung at his side, and he felt complete once
more.

Shern hurried
up to them when they entered the camp, his eyes darting to the
glistening black hilt protruding from Kieran’s scabbard. Wisely he
asked no questions, but awaited Chanter's orders. The Mujar turned
first to Kieran.

"Go and find
her now. Bring her back safely."

"It would be
better if I had a horse," Kieran pointed out.

"That, I can't
help you with."

Kieran nodded,
accepting that. He had noticed, as they all had, the Mujar's
penchant for releasing the beasts of burden he found. He turned to
Shern.

"Which
direction did they go?"

The seer
pointed into the forest, and a man approached to thrust a bag of
provisions and a water bottle into Kieran’s hands. He nodded his
thanks as he turned away, heading in the indicated direction.

Chanter watched
him trot into the forest until the trees swallowed him, then looked
at Shern.

"Gather your
people, we go now."

Shern glanced
around at the gathering dusk, then hurried away to get everyone on
their feet and ready to go. The free chosen had given the former
slaves a motley collection of ill-fitting clothes, and many were
wrapped in blankets against the chill. With a little soft muttering
and the wailing of tired children, the chosen followed Chanter into
the forest, away from the road and back towards the place where he
had left Sheera and the others from the ship.