Broken World Book Two - StarSword (25 page)

Talsy looked up
at Chanter, her mouth twisting as fresh tears threatened. "You let
me die, Chanter! You let him kill me! I was alone..." She gulped
and covered her face.

"Regret, my
little clan, very big regret," he murmured, holding her tighter. He
was now deadpan, but anguish flashed deep in his eyes.

She drew a
deep, shuddering breath, wiping away her tears. "It was cold... and
dark."

"Death is not
normally such a terrible thing."

"Not unless
you're trapped in your dead body," she retorted, her brows drawing
together like storm clouds gathering.

"Yes," he
agreed. "There was no other way."

Kieran cleared
his throat, loath to interrupt this poignant moment with its
brewing undercurrents of anger, but unable to stay silent any
longer. "Will one of you explain this to me? I know that she's back
from the dead, but how?" He looked at Talsy. "Why are you so upset?
What did he do to you? Why did you seem so... frightened?"

Talsy looked at
him, her face drawn and pale. She flashed a brief, angry glance at
Chanter, her expression mutinous. "Why don't you tell him, Chanter?
Tell him what you did to me."

The Mujar shot
Kieran a warning look. "No."

"Are you
ashamed?" she challenged. "Are you embarrassed that you couldn't
save me from Tyrander?"

Chanter bowed
his head in silent answer, avoiding her accusing gaze.

Kieran tried to
defuse the growing tension with another question. "Are you all
right now?"

Talsy looked
away, and her eyes fell upon the shining staff that lay amongst the
leaves. "What's that?"

Chanter glanced
at Kieran again, doubtfully. "The Staff of Life."

"You used it to
bring me back?"

"Yes. I used it
to revive your body and free your spirit."

She shivered,
some of the anger draining out of her. "I've never been so
cold."

"I had to make
you cold to preserve your body."

"Why did you
take so long? You carried me for ages."

"All night," he
agreed. "I had to take you from the influence of the Staff of
Law."

"Why?"

Once more he
glanced at Kieran, obviously reluctant to explain such things in
front of a Lowman other than Talsy, then sighed when she scowled at
him. "What I did is forbidden. I let you die, who are the First
Chosen. But I had no choice, so I trapped your soul within your
flesh. The Staff of Law governs the staffs of Life and Death, but
nowhere as strongly as within its sphere. Mujar are powerful, yet
even we find it difficult to disobey the law of the land, and one
of them is that the dead do not return to life. I carried you away
from the Staff of Law to break that law. I had to."

"You couldn't
have revived me within its sphere?"

He grimaced, a
look of distaste. "I could have, but it would have shaken the very
foundations of the world. Even so, there will be
repercussions."

Kieran leant
forward. "So she really was dead?"

"Yes."

Talsy snorted,
regaining some of her former spirit and shooting Kieran a glare.
"My body was dead, but I was still in it. I've never had such a
horrible experience, and I hope I never do again. I didn't
appreciate your remarks, either."

He frowned.
"You heard me?"

"That was why
Chanter was trying to shut you up, moron!"

Kieran shifted
uncomfortably, trying to remember what he had said. "I didn't know.
I was upset. He didn't tell me what he was going to do, or that he
could bring you back to life. I thought... I thought he brought you
here to bury you. I was angry that he'd let you die!"

Talsy exuded
ill-concealed resentment and Chanter was silent and withdrawn, his
expression inscrutable. Aware that there were some things better
left unsaid, Kieran rose to his feet.

"I'll leave you
two to talk."

Talsy watched
him stride away through the trees. He knew that the Mujar would not
speak freely in front of him, and she appreciated his unexpected
tact. She flexed her aching fingers, her flesh still chilly.
Chanter leant forward and picked up the staff, pressing it into her
hands. She recoiled a little, but he folded her fingers around
it.

"Hold it, it
will do you good."

"Is it
safe?"

He smiled. "The
Staff of Life? Of course. Rest assured, I would not press the Staff
of Death into your hands."

Talsy gripped
the shining staff, which exuded warmth that eased her aches and
filled her with a wonderful sensation of boundless vitality. She
caressed it, enjoying the silken feel of its bright surface and the
happiness it shared with her. Its touch made her want to leap up
and dance, sing with joy.

"Can I keep
it?"

He shrugged,
still smiling. "Sure, why not? But not in this form. It's a little
obvious, don't you think?"

"I like
it."

"Of course you
do. Who wouldn't?"

Talsy rubbed
the staff, fascinated by the slow spirals of light that formed it
and the surface she could feel but not see. "It's so...
passive."

"All the staffs
are passive. That's their nature."

"Even the Staff
of Death?"

He nodded.
"Even that. But whereas this one makes you feel good and imparts
joy and vitality, the Staff of Death would do just the
opposite."

She hugged the
staff, and it seemed to nestle like a joyful puppy against her
skin. "What about the Staff of Law?"

"That's the
most passive of the three. It would do nothing to you at all. The
red desert follows it, though, and its sphere of influence is
lifeless. Tyrander commanded it to form the oasis for his people
and the castle in which he dwells, but usually nothing goes that
close to it."

"What will
happen to Tyrander now?"

"The Hashon
Jahar will arrive soon, and he will die," Chanter assured her. "As
an unchosen, that's his fate."

"And he richly
deserves it," she muttered. "To think that he thought he could
outwit a Mujar, the pompous ass."

"There was no
outwitting involved. I had no other option."

"But only a
Mujar can bring back the dead," she pointed out.

He looked away,
frowning as if discomfited by what he had done. "Yes. The gift of
Life is the greatest a Mujar can give. But it must be given before
the spirit departs, which usually is mere seconds, depending, of
course, on the manner of death."

Chanter paused,
as if to gauge her reaction to this information, since she had just
undergone the terrifying experience herself. Talsy was unashamedly
fascinated, so he went on, "If death is sudden, the spirit often
lingers, but in the case of sickness or age it leaves swiftly,
sometimes even before the body has ceased to breathe. I had to bind
your spirit to your flesh so it could not depart, or else I would
not have been able to revive you."

"What would
have happened?"

He sighed,
shaking his head. "Your spirit would have left, and I could not
have brought you back. I would have restored life to a body with no
soul, which would have been pointless."

"How did you
trap my spirit?"

"The mark
allowed me to. I bound your spirit before Tyrander killed you,
which is why you felt no pain. I commanded the mark to take your
spirit, which is like a flame burning within you, here." He touched
the centre of her chest. "And diffuse it throughout your body. When
it did that, it bled, and you went into a state of detachment."

"I remember. It
was like floating in a sea of darkness, though I could still hear
people speaking." She frowned, thinking. "What else can you command
this mark to do?"

Chanter looked
amused, his eyes sparkling at her concern. "Don't worry, nothing
bad, I promise."

"But what?" she
insisted.

"It would take
me a thousand years to explain it all," he equivocated, then held
up a hand when she opened her mouth to argue further. "Suffice it
to say, it's like a conduit between us, through which I can command
your body as if it was one of the Powers. But I would never use it
except in extreme circumstances, to save you."

"That's almost
like I'm a part of you now," she breathed.

"In a way. But
don't get too excited," he warned. "It does have its limitations. I
have to be near you, for one thing, though not actually touching.
Touching is better, but not necessary. I can't explain it any more
than that. You wouldn't understand."

She snuggled
closer to him, enjoying this rare time spent in the comfort of his
arms and not wishing it to end. Shooting him a coy glance through
her lashes, she asked, "Are you really more powerful than the Staff
of Law?"

Without any
sign of smugness, he nodded. "The staff’s power is different to
mine. It is a guarding force, a keeper of the laws, nothing more.
It commands a little Dolana and Crayash, from which it is made. It
formed the oasis in its desert and the castle with Dolana, but that
was unnatural. It uses fire to write its words, that's all."

"How is its
power different?"

He shot her a
smile, his eyes bright with laughter. "You have many questions for
me now, don't you?"

"You owe me,"
she reminded him.

"I know.
There's nothing I wouldn't tell you now. As we have travelled this
road together, I have fallen slowly into your debt. But Mujar
secrets can be a heavy burden to bear, and you can never tell them
to anyone else."

"Perhaps Kieran
should know some of it too. He's special, you know. He must feel
left out."

He picked up a
golden-brown leaf and toyed with it. "I thought you didn't like
him?" She pulled a face, and he smiled at her discomfiture.
"Perhaps soon I'll talk to him. He was very angry with me for
letting you die. He tried to strangle me."

"He did?" Talsy
was incredulous, then giggled. "Trust him!"

The Mujar
nodded. "That's why I let him follow me here to watch."

Talsy shuddered
and hugged the staff, her amusement fading with the memory of her
ordeal. "Don't ever do that to me again."

"I won't." He
took her hand and squeezed it. "I didn't want to do it."

"I screamed and
screamed, but no one heard me, no one answered." She gulped. "I was
trapped in the dark and cold, all alone and afraid. I could hear
you, so I knew that you were nearby, carrying me, but I couldn't
touch you. I've never been so scared. It was awful."

Chanter held
her a little tighter. Now that some time had passed and the staff
gave her so much comfort, she was able to talk about it.

"I didn't know
that you were going to release me," she went on. "I thought I had
died and was going to stay there forever. Then Kieran asked if you
were going to bury me." She shivered. "I'll never forget it."

"No, don't try
to. Think about it and remember it. The more you do that, the less
painful it will become."

Kieran wandered
back into the camp, still stunned by what he had witnessed. He did
not understand how, but Chanter seemed to have done the impossible.
His gaze drifted over the slumbering forms of the rebels stretched
out on the grass, overcome by exhaustion. A solitary figure sat
slumped before a fire, head bowed, and Kieran went over to him.
Roth jerked awake at his soft footfalls and looked up, relaxing
with a sigh of relief. Roth fed wood to the fire as the Prince sat
beside him, casting him a worried look when Kieran stared blindly
into the flames.

"Did he bury
her?" Roth asked.

Kieran dragged
himself from his thoughts. "What? Oh, no. He brought her back to
life."

Roth stared at
Kieran, then shook his head. "Mine was a foolish question, I grant
you, but that's a bad joke, Highness."

"I'm not
kidding." He met Roth's startled eyes. "You'll see."

"How could he
do such a thing? It's impossible!" Roth protested. "She was dead
for a whole night."

Kieran nodded.
"Well, he did it. Trapped her soul inside her or something. He's
Mujar."

"Indeed,
Highness, I need no reminding of that." Roth considered. "He's very
strange."

"Strange? In
what way? I know he's different, but how do you find him
strange?"

"It's his eyes,
I think," Roth mused. "The way they shine. When he looks at you,
they cut into you like knives. He seems to look right into your
soul, as if your flesh was glass. Cold, too. No emotions, no
expression. Makes me shiver whenever he looks at me."

"Mmm. Shining
eyes, people call them, or... what was the other name for
them?"

"Who,
Mujar?"

"No, their
eyes."

"Oh." Roth
pondered a moment. "Burning eyes, wasn't it?"

"That's it. The
accursed undying with the burning eyes. Sounds pretty scary. No
wonder people fear them."

"Used to," Roth
corrected. "No one's seen one for so long, most people have
forgotten what they're like. Just legends now: old folktales to
scare the children. I remember my ma telling me about them, how
they ate little boys who were bad. Everyone hated them for being
different, not Trueman, not mortal, not flawed. Like brain-damaged
gods, capable of anything, good for nothing."

"Mmm." Kieran
stared into the fire, not really listening.

"He wasn't
angry then, that you attacked him?"

"Huh? No, he
didn't seem to be, but then, what harm could I possibly do to an
immortal?"

Roth nodded,
and they stared into the fire for several minutes, sunk in their
thoughts. Roth yawned and broke the silence. "She's all right then,
the First Chosen?"

The Prince
looked up and nodded. "A bit shaken, that's all. Woke up screaming
and tried to rip his head off." Kieran smiled. "I don't think she
enjoyed the experience."

"Who
would?"

Roth tossed
another stick into the fire, glancing around at the slumbering
people stretched out on the grass, the blue sky and gurgling river.
Fluffy white clouds floated past at a leisurely rate, and birds
sang in the woods nearby. The scene hummed with sublime beauty,
untouched and pristine, a world carved from the bedrock of
time.