Broken World Book Two - StarSword (14 page)

Kieran soon
found the tracks of four horses, one carrying a double burden. The
trail was easy to follow, for the knights had made no attempt to
hide their tracks. Clods of freshly turned earth and disturbed
leaves showed that they moved at some speed, and Kieran cursed his
lack of a horse. He settled into a steady trot, not wishing to grow
tired too soon, but intent on gaining as much ground as possible
during the night. His breath steamed before him, and he negotiated
the terrain deftly, as used to the vagaries of a forest as the deer
that dwelt here. The moon rose and set as he continued at a steady
pace, and his legs ached by the time the first streaks of pale dawn
light tinted the sky. Battle fatigue still plagued him, and grew
more acute as he used up his remaining reserves of strength, but
Talsy's danger goaded him to fresh efforts.

In the half
light, he stopped to rest and eat, sipping water from the bottle.
Dew dampened his clothes and skin, mingling with the sweat that ran
from him. It had been years since he had run so far, and it brought
back memories of his childhood in the forest, guided by Dancer.
While his father had taught him to fight and hunt, Dancer had shown
him the forest's beauty. The icy streams that chuckled over mossy
stones, hollows filled with bracken and ferns that sheltered
fragile fawns awaiting their mothers' return. Between them, they
had moulded him into a fearless fighter who loved the forests and
all that lived in them.

Finishing the
bread, his thirst quenched, Kieran rose and forced his tired legs
to carry him onward, ignoring their aching protest.

Talsy woke to a
rude jolting and opened her eyes, her anxiety returning with a rush
of unpleasant memories. The cold, soggy cloth gag chafed her mouth
and the ropes rubbed her wrists, but she could not even ask for
them to be loosened. The soldiers sat next to her, staring ahead
with dull eyes, and the knights rode beside the cart, two on either
side. She wriggled into a slightly less uncomfortable position and
studied the passing scenery. The sun had just risen, and they
traversed a frost-rimed land. It crunched beneath the horses' feet
and the wagon wheels, the only sound other than the occasional
snort or grunt from the animals.

The guards
ignored her muffled attempts to communicate the terrible thirst
that raged in her mouth. Her stomach groaned emptily, but, worst of
all, her bladder made an urgent demand that could not be refused.
Giving up the attempt to communicate her desperate need, she
managed, through a series of contortions, to wriggle off the furs
and open her leather leggings with her bound hands. While the
guards watched, she relieved herself into the bottom of the wagon,
where it ran out between the boards. Cursing their unfeeling
attitude, she crawled back onto the furs and lay down.

Talsy jerked
from her uncomfortable doze at midday, when the wagon jolted down a
bank and splashed through a broad, shallow river. Sitting up, she
stared ahead, amazed by the sight that greeted her. Beyond the far
bank, a narrow belt of hardy trees gave way to struggling scrub and
then rolling dunes of golden sand. The horses laboured to drag the
wagon through the soft sand, and a cold wind rippled it, wiping
away the tracks behind them. Talsy shivered, not only with cold,
but with fresh foreboding. The desert seemed unnatural, out of
place so close to lush forests and grassland. This desert was not
caused by heat or lack of water, but something else.

As they
travelled, the sand became more and more orange, until, by the
afternoon, it turned blood red. Talsy's foreboding turned to fear,
and she shivered despite of the fact that the air was calm and
warm. The footing grew firmer, and the driver whipped the horses
into a trot, the wagon rattling over stony ground.

By the time the
sun sank into a glorious crimson medley over rolling dunes of
bloody sand, Talsy was almost fainting from thirst. It seemed as if
the world had turned red, for the dust the horses kicked up settled
over everything, and the sun's red light added to the illusion. She
stared at the darkening sky, hardly aware that trees now lined the
road. The wagon rattled on after dark, and she levered herself up
to look over the side. Lighted windows twinkled in the darkness;
scattered houses nestled amid trees and shrubs. A vast structure
loomed ahead, the high windows ablaze with light giving an idea of
its size. The wagon rattled through a massive torch-lit gateway
into a courtyard. When it stopped, the soldiers jumped down to drag
Talsy from it with rough hands, and she staggered on rubbery
legs.

A knight
approached and removed the gag. She licked dry lips and stared
around as he untied her hands. High walls of grey stone surrounded
her, and the light from nearby windows added to the brightness of
the many torches on the walls. Several doorways led off the
courtyard, and the knights led her to one. They pushed her along a
short passage and into a larger corridor with many more doorways.
The few poorly dressed people who scuttled past her with bowed
heads and averted eyes seemed furtive and fearful. As she stumbled
along, Talsy took the opportunity to call for help.

"Shyass, help
me," she mumbled.

Even as she
made her plea, she wondered why the knight had removed the gag now,
after she had been forced to wear it for so long. There was
something wrong with this place, and not only because of the
unnatural desert that surrounded it. An eerie tingle suffused the
air, a shiver of Dolana or something like it. Something powerful
resided here.

The knights
marched her through an ornate archway that two black and
silver-armoured soldiers guarded, sending her stumbling into a
brightly lighted room that many torches made smoky. After the bare
corridor, the room's sumptuous furnishings seemed out of place.
Lush silken hangings framed a pillared aisle that led to a low dais
in front of a golden depiction of some strange, bat-winged animal.
The creature had an eagle's head, its blood-red eyes the same hue
as the stone background. On the floor before the dais was a rough
and rather uneven oval of green jade set in a circle of pale
marble. The knights led her onto the jade oval and forced her to
her knees, kneeling themselves as they bowed their heads to the man
who rose from the gilded throne atop the dais.

Talsy stifled a
gasp of shock and astonishment as she glanced up into hard black
eyes set in a lean, bearded face. Apart from the beard and the
flash of silver in his hair above one brow, he looked exactly like
Kieran. His rich garb of gold-embroidered black velvet told her
that he was of high rank, and the silver circlet on his brow added
to his regal air. He descended the two steps to join her on the
floor, a slow, cruel smile curling his lips. One of the knights
raised his head.

"My Prince, we
have brought the girl, as you ordered."

The Prince
nodded, not taking his eyes off Talsy. He stopped in front of her.
"Get up."

Talsy stood a
little shakily and met his granite gaze. "What do you want with me?
Why have you brought me here?"

His smile
broadened. "Have you called the wind yet?"

"Yes."

"It won't do
you any good." He shook his head and circled her. "Nothing can help
you here."

"Where am
I?"

"In my castle,
of course. And at my mercy."

Talsy turned to
frown at him. "Why have you brought me here?"

"I need what
only you can provide."

"What's
that?"

"A Mujar."

"Why?"

The Prince
stopped in front of the throne. He was just as tall as Kieran,
though not as well built. "Because the Hashon Jahar are coming, of
course."

"Chanter won't
help you."

"Normally he
wouldn't, but to save you, I think he will."

She shook her
head. "You can't blackmail a Mujar."

"Not usually,
but times have changed, haven't they? Whereas before Mujar did
nothing but loaf and beg, now he's gathering the chosen and helping
them to reach the appointed place. You're the First Chosen, without
you none of this would be happening, and that makes you
important."

"He still won't
do it," she said. "Why would he care if the fate of Truemen is
changed again?"

"Perhaps not,
but at least if I'm to die at the hands of those monsters, no
others will be saved."

"How do you
know so much? Who are you?"

He smiled. "I'm
Prince Tyrander, monarch of this land and owner of the ultimate
Power, the Staff of Law. That's how I know so much. But now, where
are my manners? You must be hungry and thirsty, tired after your
journey. Come and have some refreshment."

Tyrander
dismissed the knights with a wave and took her wrist in a firm
grip. Talsy had no choice but to follow him through a silk-hung
doorway into a grey-walled room with pale marble floors that a
carved table and chairs of dark, polished wood furnished. A feast
covered the table; platters of roast fowl, smoked ham and a
plethora of garnished vegetable dishes were arranged between bowls
of sauce and gravy. Jugs of wine, mead and water stood together at
the centre of the spread with golden goblets arranged around them,
waiting to be filled.

Talsy poured a
goblet of water, sniffing it before drinking. Tyrander watched her
with obvious amusement, and picked at the meat before helping
himself to a cup of wine. Ignoring him, she settled down to eat,
washing down the tender meat with swigs of clear spring water. The
Prince sat opposite.

"So, you want
to know how I know so much. Well, I'll tell you, since it serves my
purpose that you should know." He nibbled a slice of ham. "My
grandfather was a friend of the Mujar, you see. In fact, he could
almost have been the First Chosen. It was about the time that most
Truemen had grown sick of the lazy buggers and started throwing
them into the Pits.

"My grandfather
offered them sanctuary and comforts, which, of course, they were
happy to take. When they offered him gratitude, he asked for clan
bond and knowledge. These they gave him, and he learnt a great deal
from them, which he set down in a book. Naturally, I have inherited
this book and all its secrets."

Talsy looked
up. "That doesn't explain how you know what I can do."

"No, it
doesn't." He smiled. "One of the questions my grandfather asked led
him to more information than he had bargained for. I don't know
what the question was, but the explanation was fascinating. He
learnt that there are three staffs that govern the world, the Staff
of Life, the Staff of Death and the Staff of Law.

"The Staff of
Life governs all things that are alive and ensures that living
creatures are viable, fall under its rules, that sort of thing. The
Staff of Death does the same for dead things, soil, stone, and
naturally, the death of living things. But the most powerful of the
three is the Staff of Law. It governs the other two and gives order
to the world. Without it there would be chaos. Its power is
immense, and I own it."

Talsy took a
gulp of water to wash away the sour taste that had formed in her
mouth during his revelation. She had no doubt that he was bad, not
only because of what he had done to her, but from the nasty twinkle
in his black eyes and the cynical curl of his thin lips. Pushing
her plate aside, she frowned at him.

"If you have
this all-powerful staff, then why do you need a Mujar to protect
your city?"

"Ah, well,
having it is one thing, using it is quite another. You see, the
Mujar never intended my grandfather to have it, they only told him
of its existence. But he was a clever man, and he tricked one of
them into showing him where it was. He took it, and the Mujar were
angry, but of course, being Mujar, they did nothing, just left.
This did not bother my grandfather, for now he had the Staff of
Law. Over the years, he learnt how to make some use of it, mostly
to gain knowledge from it."

The Prince
sipped his wine and shrugged. "But alas, he never discovered how to
use it for war, if, indeed, it can be used for such a purpose. So,
my dear, I used it to watch you and your Mujar, who will now come
to rescue you. Then he'll have to protect my city or watch you
die."

Talsy raised
her chin. "Then he'll watch me die."

"Perhaps, but
if he does, the fate of the world will change. The chosen will be
no more, and Truemen will be wiped out. You see, without you to
guide and teach them, the gods will not allow the race to
survive."

"The staff told
you that?"

Tyrander
nodded.

"Is it also the
reason the wind will not aid me?"

Again the
Prince nodded, looking smug. "None of the souls may enter the
sphere of the Staff of Law, which is bounded by the desert that
followed it here. So you see, only your Mujar can save you
now."

Talsy stared at
her food, sickened by his cold words and harsh, unfeeling manner.
His smug attitude and air of confidence told her that he spoke the
truth, and no amount of reasoning would change his mind. Prince
Tyrander was set upon his course and would not be turned from it.
The power he held made him far more dangerous than any foe Chanter
had faced before. Perhaps only she could change fate now by
escaping him, for how else could he be defeated?

Kieran paused
to gaze around at the desert. Golden sand stretched away in every
direction, rippled by the incessant, icy wind. Since leaving the
river, he had tried to keep a straight course, keeping the sun on
his left shoulder as it had been when the hoof prints and wheel
tracks had faded. What if they had turned? With no trail to follow,
he could become lost in this featureless expanse and never find
them or Talsy. The soft sand sucked at his feet, slowed his
progress to a walk and sapped his strength. The cold, dry air
drained his moisture, cracked his lips and forced him to drink more
water from the flask he had filled at the river. Already it was
half empty, and he forced himself to abstain despite the terrible
thirst that raged in his dry throat.