Broken World Book Two - StarSword (21 page)

Despite her
brave words, Kamish looked away and held her handkerchief to her
mouth as Roth cut the barbed arrowheads from Kieran's flesh. When
he finished, fresh blood oozed from the wounds, but the Prince
looked better without the protruding shafts. A long gash marred his
cheek, which would leave a nasty scar. Roth sat back and wiped his
brow as he surveyed his handiwork.

"At least now
even if Tyrander shaves off his beard the two will never look alike
again," he muttered.

The soldiers
made Kieran comfortable on the pile of cloth, and the Queen's
ladies set to work binding his wounds. Roth turned to Talsy, eyeing
the shaft that protruded from her calf.

"I'm afraid I
must do the same for you, my lady."

She nodded. "I
know."

Roth wadded a
piece of cloth and gave it to her. "Bite on this."

When he sliced
into her skin, she was glad that her mouth was stuffed with it,
otherwise her screams would have deafened the others. She fainted
before he finished, leaving the pain behind to sink into a dark
well of unconsciousness.

When she woke,
only one torch guttered on the wall. The men sat or lay on the
straw, some sleeping, others talking or playing games to take their
minds off their predicament. Roth slept, and Ardel sat with Kamish,
who bathed Kieran's brow with a damp cloth. Talsy was relieved to
find the arrow in her leg gone and the throbbing wound bound.
Biting her lip, she crawled over to Kieran and settled opposite the
Queen, studying his pale features.

"How is
he?"

Kamish shook
her head. "No better."

"Has he woken
at all?"

"No." The Queen
stroked the damp hair from Kieran's brow. "He's lost a lot of
blood. Perhaps too much."

Talsy pondered
just how much he would object to all the female attention if he was
awake.

Kamish leant
forward, her eyes intense. "Will your Mujar come? Will he save
Kieran?"

Talsy
hesitated. "He'll come when I'm in danger, not before. If the Black
Riders are close by, then it will be soon, I hope in time for
Kieran."

"I never
thought that I would pray for the Black Riders to come, but now I
do," Kamish muttered, "if that will bring the Mujar to save my son.
Tyrander has become a monster. I long for his death, terrible
though that may seem."

Talsy's lips
quirked in a bitter smile. "Maybe he'll chop his own head off with
Kieran's sword."

Tyrander stared
at the Starsword, sunk deep in his chair, a cup of wine in one
hand. Every now and then he gave a drunken giggle, remembering his
triumph in the great hall. How sweet victory was, especially over
one's twin brother. The sword was a fine prize, too. It lay across
the arms of the chair, where he could study it at his leisure.
Already he had sensed the tug of the black depths within the blade
and averted his eyes from them before he became mesmerised. Now he
made sure that his gaze skipped along the gleaming surface and
avoided the trap of its starry depths. He sipped his wine and put
aside the cup to take out the Staff of Law.

"Staff, what
can this sword do?"

The fiery
golden words formed before him. "It is the Starsword, created by a
Mujar. It holds the power of Dolana and Crayash."

Tyrander
nodded. "Earth and fire, I know. But besides cut rock and burn
things, what else does it do?"

"It will fly to
its owner when summoned, it will find what he has lost, keep him
warm, warn him of danger -"

"Go to him?"
Tyrander sat up. "Why has he not called it then?"

"Prince Kieran
is unconscious."

"Ah." Tyrander
relaxed. "But then it will also come to me, should I call it."

"Yes."

Tyrander
pondered this, weighing the success of his plans. Kidnapping the
girl had earned him an unexpected prize in the sword, but his main
goal, far more important than that, still remained unfulfilled.

"Where is the
Mujar?"

"He moves to
the north."

The Prince
frowned, irked by his failure to draw the Mujar into his trap. "Why
does he still not come?"

"The girl is in
no danger."

"Then I'll
rectify that, and soon." Tyrander gulped his wine. "But now I think
I'll try out my new toy."

"It is not a
toy," the burning words wrote.

"Shut up, I
didn't ask you for an opinion."

Tucking the
stone away, he rose unsteadily and made his way through the empty,
echoing castle, giggling now and then as he stumbled. In the
courtyard, he ordered the guards to set up straw bales against a
wall, and they ran to the stables to fetch some. When several were
stacked beside the wall, he pointed the blade at a bale and
shouted, "Fire!"

His aim was
bad, due to his drunken state, and five-foot circular area in the
wall behind the bales turned molten with a mighty boom. It slumped
into the courtyard, igniting the straw. Tyrander stared at the
river of lava, then burst out laughing as men rushed about with
buckets of water to quench it before it set fire to other things.
Delighted, the Prince looked about for a fresh target, spying a
cart drawn up on the other side of the courtyard. This time the
wood exploded into a brief blue inferno, reduced to ash in moments.
Tyrander crowed with drunken laughter and pointed the Starsword
again.

Chapter Nine

Kieran groaned
and pushed at the shawls that covered him, turning his head away
when Kamish pulled them over him again. She wiped away the sweat
that beaded his brow with a damp cloth, shooting a worried look
with Ardel.

"He's becoming
weaker."

Roth joined
them, studying Kieran's pale face. "If only he would call the
sword."

"What do you
mean?" Talsy asked.

"That sword of
his, it comes when he calls it. I saw it. He shouted, 'Starsword',
and the damn thing came straight through the bed, right into his
hand."

"What good
would it do him? He's too weak to hold it," Kamish pointed out.

"It would take
it away from Tyrander."

The Queen
nodded. "That's true."

Talsy leant
forward and shook the Prince. "Kieran, wake up."

He turned his
head, his brows drawing together, and opened his eyes to gaze at
her.

She said, "Call
the sword."

A weak smile
tugged at his lips as he spoke in a hoarse whisper. "What good
would it do me now? I failed you."

Sweat ran down
his brow, but it was too soon for his wounds to have caused a
fever. Rather, it was the intensity of the pain that made him
sweat, and her heart twisted with pity.

"No you
haven't, we can still beat him. If you call the sword, we can cut
our way out of here and escape."

He shook his
head. "I don't have the strength."

"We've got to
try. Please just call it."

"If Tyrander's
got it, it won't come."

"Just try. He's
got to put it down some time."

Kieran sighed,
his eyes drooping with fatigue. Clearly he longed to release his
tenuous hold on consciousness and slip back into the tender sea of
oblivion.

"Starsword."

Everyone froze
in anticipation, glancing around. Kamish placed a cool cloth on
Kieran's brow, and his eyes closed again. "It's no good," he
husked, "Tyrander's holding it."

"You must keep
trying. Tyrander has only to release it and it will come." Talsy
urged, hoping she was right.

"I'm too
tired," he muttered. "Let me sleep."

Tyrander stared
at the blade. A second ago a powerful vibration had passed through
it, almost making him drop it in surprise. Now it was dormant
again, and he shrugged off the strange phenomenon. He looked around
at his handiwork, a dozen piles of ash that had been straw bales
and some artistic holes in the walls where he had practised cutting
rock. The novelty was wearing off, however. He needed more
interesting targets. Turning to the group of men who stood behind
him, he ordered, "Bring me one of those traitors, one of the
soldiers."

The prisoners
jumped when keys rattled in the door. Two guards entered, grabbed a
soldier and dragged him out.

Talsy looked at
Kamish. "He's playing with the sword."

The Queen
paled, raising a hand to her mouth. "Curse him."

Roth glared at
the door, looking sick, and Ardel comforted the Queen with soft
words. Talsy lowered her eyes to Kieran's pale, sweating face.

"Kieran, call
the sword."

"Starsword," he
whispered. "Starsword."

Talsy wiped his
brow, praying that Tyrander would lay aside the blade, even for a
moment.

Tyrander
grinned as he surveyed the burnt corpse of the traitor on the
courtyard's cobble stones. This was far more fun. A bit too quick,
if anything, but entertaining.

"Fetch me
another," he commanded the soldiers who waited to do his bidding.
Two trotted away, and he leant on the Starsword. The tip sank into
the stone, turning the blade silver. He released it, smiling as it
remained upright, the point embedded in the rock.

Talsy gripped
Kieran's hand to try to hold his attention and prevent him fading
in and out of consciousness. "Keep calling the sword, Kieran," she
urged. "It's our only hope."

Kamish stared
at her son with dull eyes, chewing her lip. He appeared weaker, and
sweat and blood soaked the bandages and bedding. She knew that he
was dying, and hot tears burnt beneath her lids. His eyes opened
for a moment at Talsy's insistent goading, and a weary smile tugged
at his lips.

"You don't give
up, do you?"

Talsy wet the
cloth again and wiped his brow. "Call it."

"For Antannar's
sake, leave him be," the Queen begged.

"I won't give
up." She glanced at Roth. "He's using it to murder our people."

"Kieran needs
to rest."

"He'll die if
we don't get out of here."

Kieran sighed
and whispered, "Starsword."

A flash of
silver shot from the wall and halted at the Prince's feet, narrowly
missing Roth, who recoiled with a yell. The Starsword hung in the
air, midnight black and filled with stars. For an instant Talsy
stared at it, dumbstruck, then everyone shouted at once.

"Grab it!" Roth
and Ardel yelled.

"No, don't
touch it!" Talsy bellowed.

Roth lunged for
it and Talsy hurled herself at him, knocked him aside and sprawled
over Kieran's legs. The Prince groaned, opening his eyes at the
sudden ruckus. The blade hung before him, out of reach, and he
clearly did not have the strength to raise his arm.

Roth stared at
the ebon blade. "Are you mad? Tyrander will call it back!"

"No one can
wield it but Kieran!" she shot back.

"He's too
weak!"

"Help me with
him, quickly!"

Talsy struggled
to pull Kieran upright, but he was far too heavy, and her rough
handling made him groan again. Roth and Ardel lent their strength,
and between them they hauled the Prince into a sitting position.
Talsy took his hand and placed his fingers around the hilt of the
Starsword, closing them. The sword sank down, and the men lowered
Kieran back onto the shawls. He caressed the blade with loving
fingers, fresh blood staining his bandages and the renewed pain
making sweat bead his brow. With a shaking hand, he struggled to
raise the weapon, but the effort was too much and he slumped, his
eyes rolling back.

Talsy bent over
him. "Damn, he's passed out. At least now we have it. So long as
Kieran holds it, Tyrander can't call it back."

"He'll just
come and get it," Roth said. "We must use it to escape!"

"How?"

"It cuts
through stone. We can make a doorway through the wall."

Talsy shook her
head. "Kieran must hold it, and we can't go dragging him around,
we'll kill him."

"It can do more
than cut stone," Ardel pointed out. "It can burn. Burn the
door."

Tyrander
glanced around the courtyard, puzzled. The sword had been beside
him a moment ago, stuck in the stone. Now it had vanished. He
scowled at the soldiers, who cowered from his ire, then realisation
dawned on his wine-fogged brain.

"Kieran!" He
swore foully. "Starsword!"

After a moment
of fruitless waiting, Tyrander strode towards the men.

Darton eyed the
Prince as he stopped before him, and Tyrander met his gaze with
scowl. He knew the general had always disliked him, especially when
he was drunk. Darton nursed several grudges for humiliations
inflicted upon him and his men, and Tyrander surmised that he had
often dreamt of revenge. Tyrander's penchant for torture and death
sickened the puritanical Darton, who also scorned the Prince's
weakness for wine, yet he was never more dangerous than when he had
been drinking. Tyrander disliked Darton's judgmentalism and
regarded his high moral values as weaknesses, but he was an
excellent general and a veteran of several conflicts from Shantar's
time.

"My sword is in
the dungeon with Kieran, fetch it immediately!" Tyrander
commanded.

Darton bowed
and signalled to some of the men, leading them in the direction of
the dungeons,

Talsy raised
Kieran's arm, holding his hand around the hilt of the sword, and
pointed the weapon at the dungeon door.

"Fire!" she
cried, ducking from the expected explosion. She stared at the
unscathed door. "It doesn't work! He has to speak the word, too."
Letting his arm fall, she gripped Kieran's jacket and shook him.
"Wake up!"

Kieran's head
lolled, and Roth took hold of her arms. "Are you mad? You'll kill
him!"

"If we don't
get out of here, we'll all die!" Talsy shook the Prince again.
"Wake up, Kieran, please!"