Broken World Book Two - StarSword (23 page)

Tyrander's eyes
widened as the Mujar mark on Talsy's forehead turned crimson. Blood
oozed from the lines and ran down between her brows, where it split
into two drops that traversed her cheeks like bloody tears.

He turned to
Chanter. "What are you doing to her?"

The Mujar
shrugged. "Easing her pain."

"That's all?
You're not going to save her? You're going to let her die?"
Tyrander was clearly amazed, his lips wet with spittle.

"Yes."

"No!" Kieran
shouted hoarsely, struggling to raise himself off the litter. "You
can't let her die!"

The Mujar gazed
at Talsy with just a hint of sadness, as she sagged in the
torturer's hands, her skin tinged with blue, her glazed eyes
bulging.

Tyrander said,
"Release her!"

The men
complied, loosened the ropes and slapped her cheeks as she lay
unmoving. Long moments passed before she drew a shallow, wheezing
breath again. The torturers looked relieved, and Tyrander turned to
the Mujar.

"Why did you
come here if you will not save her?"

"To ease her
suffering."

"That's
all?"

Chanter nodded.
"You can't blackmail a Mujar."

"Things have
changed, damn you! You have to obey me!"

"No."

Tyrander's eyes
narrowed as he pondered the possible ramifications of the
situation. "Well, I didn't kill her when I could have, I released
her, so you owe me gratitude, don't you?"

Chanter
considered this. "Yes."

"Wish."

"Wish," Chanter
allowed.

"Protect my
castle from the Black Riders."

"No."

Tyrander gave a
harsh grunt of frustration, running a hand over his face. "All
right. Answers then."

Chanter nodded.
"Three."

"What will
happen if the First Chosen dies?"

"There will be
no more chosen, and the race of Truemen will be abolished."

Tyrander's eyes
gleamed. "What are your instructions from the gods?"

"To take the
chosen to the place of gathering."

"Can you
disobey them?"

"No."

"Then you have
to save the girl!" Tyrander crowed, grinning and slapping his
thigh. "You have no choice!"

Chanter smiled,
and Tyrander's glee withered at the sight of it. Talsy coughed and
moaned on the floor, and Chanter glanced down at her with deep
tenderness. She had a great deal of courage, for a Lowman girl, he
mused, but then, he had noticed that about her long ago. Tyrander
ran a hand through his hair, frowning as he considered the
situation.

"This doesn't
make sense," he muttered. "You say that you can't let her die, but
you won't save her. So who will?" He glanced around. "I don't see
any other Mujar here, do you? And even if there were, they can't
save her either without doing as I say, so what's going to
happen?"

Chanter gazed
around the room as if he had no concern for the proceedings
whatsoever, and the lack of answers was clearly driving Tyrander
into a fury. A low muttering came from the courtiers, which added
to the Prince's annoyance.

"Shut up!" he
bellowed at them, stilling the murmur. As if suddenly remembering
it, he reached for the Staff of Law. "Staff, how can I make the
Mujar obey me?"

Brilliant
letters of golden fire scored the air with a faint hiss of power.
"You cannot."

"Why is your
writing so bright?" the Prince asked in surprise.

"I am drawing
power from the Mujar."

"You're drawing
power from him?" Tyrander cast Chanter an astounded look. "How can
that be?"

"He is the most
powerful being here."

Tyrander
grunted, frowning. "How can he let the First Chosen die?"

"He cannot,"
the burning words wrote.

"Then he must
do as I say."

"He will
not."

Tyrander's
sallow skin mottled, the fury that had been building within him
during his frustrating, fruitless encounter with Chanter finally
becoming more than he could suppress. He dropped the stone, stepped
back, and drew the Starsword.

"Riddles!" he
bellowed. "You all talk in riddles! You will obey me, or I'll cut
you into a million pieces, you dirty Mujar scum!"

Chanter eyed
the raised sword. "Not with that."

The Prince gave
a howl of rage and swung the sword with all his might, a stroke
that would have chopped a man in two. The blade bounced off the air
above Chanter's head with a buzzing clang, ripped from the Prince's
hands to fall to the floor with a clatter. Tyrander staggered back,
clutching his jarred hands.

"You Mujar
bastard!" He yanked the dagger from his belt and lunged at Chanter,
thrusting the blade at him.

The Mujar leapt
back, avoiding the blade with ease that made Tyrander look like a
shambling halfwit instead of a superb swordsman. The air swelled,
and a faint whisper of wings stirred a soft gust of wind. The
Prince, his face mottled with fury, turned and roared at his
warriors.

"Get him! Cut
him up!"

The men
muttered and shifted in their ranks, eyeing the Mujar who stood in
the centre of the great hall. Darton glanced around at them and
approached the Prince.

"Highness," he
ventured, "attacking the Mujar would only get us all -"

"What?" asked
Tyrander. "Killed? He won't kill anyone, fool!"

"Burnt, My
Prince. We couldn't hope to injure him."

Tyrander
bellowed and leapt at the general, plunging the dagger into
Darton's breast to vent his rage. The old warrior staggered back,
blood crimsoning the front of his tunic. He swayed, staring down at
the spreading redness on his chest in surprise, then fell to his
knees and keeled over at the Prince's feet. Tyrander bent and
pulled the dagger out, wiping the blade on Darton's tunic. He
straightened and faced Chanter, who eyed him impassively.

"They'll all
die, Mujar, starting with him." He pointed at Kieran, who watched
from the litter, his eyes dull.

"No," Chanter
said.

"Oh, you don't
care about her, but you do care about him?" Tyrander demanded.
"Then obey me."

Chanter smiled
and shook his head.

Tyrander spun
away with a curse, bellowing at his soldiers, "Kill them! Kill the
traitors, now!"

The warriors on
either side of the chained rebels drew their swords. The hall
filled with a raging inferno of roaring flames and choking smoke.
Then the manifestation was gone, leaving almost everyone, including
Tyrander, coughing and beating at their clothes. Kieran alone was
unaffected, and Talsy uncaring, a slight smile on her lips as she
lay between the torturers in her own calm world.

Chanter
gestured, and a ring of blue fire sprang up around the rebels,
forcing Tyrander's men to retreat, their arms raised against the
heat. The Prince leapt back with a yell as the flames licked close
to him, smacking at his scorched clothes. Within the fiery barrier,
the rebels looked around in surprise and alarm, cowering from the
flames. Kieran smiled at Chanter, but the Mujar ignored him.

Tyrander faced
Chanter, his face set in grim, angry lines. "So, you would protect
them, would you? But her, you cannot, for you would kill the men
who are chained to her, and that, you're forbidden to do."

Chanter
inclined his head.

Tyrander drew
himself up, striving to appear dignified and princely despite his
singed brows, frizzled hair and sooty clothes. "Well then," he
said, "I will call your bluff. I have nothing left to lose." He
gestured expansively. "Since you won't obey me, you leave me no
choice."

"There is
always a choice," Chanter stated.

"Oh?" Tyrander
cocked his head. "Going to try to talk me out of it now, are
you?"

"No."

"This is the
trouble with you damned yellow beggars," the Prince said, incensed
by his inability to rile the Mujar. "You don't talk! You stand
there and shake your head, saying 'yes' and 'no' to everything!
That's why no one understands you; even the damned Staff of Law
can't explain you!"

He thumped the
stone that hung against his chest. "When I ask it what Mujar are,
it says 'life'! Well of course you're life, since you're alive! So
am I, so is every living thing! All my grandfather's writings, all
the knowledge he gleaned from Mujar does not explain what they are,
what their purpose is, or why they were sent amongst us."

He paused to draw breath. "Where do you come from? Why can't
you die? Why won't you help us? But you won't answer those
questions, will you? Nor will the staff! It gives me stupid answers
that make no sense! Yet it can tell me where Truemen come from,
that we fell from the sky in a silver bird with no wings, and the
gods, the
gods
,
mind you, when everyone knows there's only one god! They decided to
give us a try, to see what manner of creatures we are! Big of them,
wasn't it? Curiosity killed the bloody cat!"

Tyrander
paused, wiping foam from his lips. Silence hung in the hall on the
heels of his words, a heavy cloak of gloom that the tension in the
air made more tangible. He stared at the Mujar. The rays of the
setting sun burnished Chanter's golden skin and glittered on his
sable hair. Tyrander's tirade seemed to have calmed him, for when
he spoke again, it was in a softer, more reasonable tone.

"Look at you,
the perfect being, flawless in every way. You have the power to
command the world, yet you won't use it." He glanced at the wall of
fire. "Except in little ways like that. All I ask is that you save
my people and me from the Black Riders, and I'll free the First
Chosen."

"No," Chanter
said.

"Why?" Tyrander
was almost begging. "Just answer me that!"

The Mujar
cocked his head as he considered the question, waiting for the
answer to swim up out of that deep, dark place within himself that
he had never been able to plumb. He nodded when it came to him,
unsurprised. "You're not worthy."

"What does that
mean?"

Chanter shook
his head.

"Come on!"
Tyrander said, "That's only half an answer! Tell me why we're not
worthy."

"Ask the Staff
of Law."

"All right."
The Prince reached for the golden chain and held up the caged
stone. "Staff, why are we not worthy?"

The words of
fire appeared with hissing brilliance. "You have sinned against the
world. You hate Mujar."

"Mujar made us
hate them with their selfishness and... laziness! How have we
sinned against the world?"

"You have
desecrated it, destroyed the forests, fouled the air and water,
plundered earth blood and enraged the souls."

Tyrander turned
from the staff's golden words to stare at Chanter. "So have the
chosen in their own small ways, which means that the deciding
factor is whether or not we hate Mujar. That's it, isn't it? The
dirty yellow bastards were sent to test us, weren't they? If we
hate them for their laziness and selfishness, envy their perfection
and power, we're doomed."

The staff's
words smeared together into one. "Yes."

The Prince let
the stone fall back to the end of its chain, staring at the floor
as he pondered this. He bent and picked up the Starsword, sheathing
it. "Well then, if I'm doomed because of that, I don't see why
anyone should be saved. I hold the fate of Truemen in my power, and
I say let them all die!"

Tyrander swung
away and strode over to where Talsy lay chained between the
torturers. He pulled the dagger from his belt and raised it above
her heart.

From behind the
wall of fire, Kieran cried, "No!"

Tyrander looked
at Chanter, his face twisted in a mocking sneer, his eyes gleaming
with madness. "Any last requests?"

The Mujar shook
his head, gazing at the Prince with sorrowful eyes. Tyrander gave a
grunt of fury and plunged the blade into Talsy's heart. The girl
stiffened with a little gasp, and Chanter raised his hands to make
a series of graceful motions with his fingers. Kieran groaned and
sank back on his litter. The Queen knelt beside him, covering her
face. Tyrander stared down at the girl as she relaxed, her eyes
glazing, the blood ceasing to pump from the wound.

He straightened
and turned to the Mujar. "So you really had no intention of saving
her. How will you complete your task now? I think you've blundered
badly, Mujar. You underestimated me, and have paid the price. The
race of Truemen will be annihilated, and you have failed."

Chanter gazed
at Talsy, his heart filled with sorrow. Tyrander called the doctor
from amongst the ranks of soldiers and gestured to the body. "Is
she dead?"

The healer
knelt and felt for a pulse at Talsy's neck, then straightened.
"She's dead, Highness."

Tyrander waved
a hand at the torturers. "Leave us."

The men
unshackled themselves from Talsy's body and hurried after the
doctor, clearly eager to quit the scene. The Prince turned to
Chanter, his expression defeated despite his triumphant words. "So,
what now?"

"I'll take
what's mine and leave."

Tyrander
smiled, benevolent in his pretence of triumph. While he had failed
to save himself and his city, he had doomed the entire Trueman race
in retribution. This lesser victory appeared to soothe his
disappointment. He clearly thought that he had outwitted a Mujar
and foiled his mighty powers by slaying the First Chosen. Although
it was not what he had wanted, he seemed to think that it would
suffice, since he had not been completely defeated. Chanter had
been punished for his defiance, and Tyrander was satisfied.

"Take them.
They're as doomed as the rest of us now." He smirked and strolled
across the great hall to his throne, flinging himself into it with
a grunt.

Chanter bent
and scooped up Talsy's body, cradling it tenderly. Her head lolled
back, her long flaxen hair a tangled golden veil. He glanced around
at the huddled rebels, dousing the fire wall with a flick of his
mind. The flames vanished with a soft thump, and the chained rebels
shuffled forward. Chanter frowned, and a brief flash of Dolana
froze the air. The chains fell away with a rattle. Four soldiers
picked up Kieran's litter and bore the Prince through the hall to
the charred remains of the huge wooden doors. Chanter followed
them, broken glass crunching under his feet.