Broken World Book Two - StarSword (9 page)

Beside him,
Talsy muttered, "Kieran, you idiot."

The slaves
continued to emerge, a long line of them running after the two
chosen who led the way. Many were women wearing short white shifts,
and a number of children ran beside them. The leaders were halfway
across the web now, the line of slaves strung out behind them to
the door where others still emerged. More than twenty were out of
the city, their pale skins and white clothes gleaming in the
starlight. A shout rang out as a lookout on the wall sounded the
alarm. The slaves increased their pace, boiling out of the portal
en mass. The leaders reached the edge of the earth blood web and
paused, turning back to their charges.

Several
crossbowmen gathered on the battlements, and a slave fell with a
cry as a deadly whisper of bolts scythed the air. Chanter took a
firmer hold of the Crayash within him. The Dolana was now a frozen
river, calm while it did nothing but hold the portal open. As the
soldiers unleashed a second hail of quarrels, he flung the fire
with a flick of his mind, and the bolts burst into flames in
mid-air. Other slaves picked up the wounded man and half dragged,
half carried him along the path, while the rest sprinted for the
edge. The last of the slaves had emerged now, and the doorway
stayed empty for several minutes. He released the Earthpower and
let the door close.

Again, he
wielded Crayash as another volley of quarrels hissed from the wall,
destroying them in flashes of fire. Most of the slaves had reached
the edge of the web and stopped, fearful to step off the tar's
safety. The chosen tried to pull them onward, voices raised in
desperate entreaty. Talsy sprinted towards them, and Chanter
retreated from the earth blood's influence. She joined the two
chosen, trying to persuade the slaves to step off the path, and
cries of fear rang out as those behind hung onto the ones who were
being pulled ahead.

The door in the
huge city gates banged open, and armed men boiled out, shouting as
they ran along the web. Naked swords flashed, and a few arrows
buzzed through the air, burnt before they struck their targets.
Still the slaves would not step off the web, and the soldiers
advanced swiftly. Chanter flung fire again, causing a blast of
flame to leap from the pathway ahead of the guardsmen. They paused,
then came on with renewed cries of anger. Chanter let them, for the
slaves remained on the tar, immune to the chosen's blandishments.
The soldiers approached with deadly intent, swords ready.

With a scream,
one of the slaves was dragged from the web, fighting the two chosen
who hauled him along. A tremor passed under Chanter's feet, and a
deep emanation of rage and hatred oozed from the earth. He stamped
his foot, sending a ripple of Earthpower forth.

"They are mine,
harm them not," he admonished.

The tremor
subsided, and the Dargon's rage and hatred seethed in helpless
forbearance. As the guardsmen drew close to the slaves, he sent
another gout of flame to slow them down. The slaves, seeing one of
their own standing unharmed on the earth, stepped gingerly from the
tar, clutching each other while the chosen urged them on. They
braved the deadly earth in groups, forced to choose between chance
before them and certain death behind. Chanter slowed the soldiers
again as the slaves quit the path, those safely off it sprinting
for the burnt forest where he waited.

Talsy reached
him first, panting from her run, and turned as the others
approached. The first slaves came hot on the heels of the two
chosen, their feet kicking up puffs of ash. At the sight of the
slender Mujar standing amongst the dead trees, they fell to their
knees in an ecstasy of gratitude and worship.

"Get up,"
Chanter snapped. "I'm not a god."

They scrambled
to their feet, but for a few women overcome by weeping. Others
helped them up, and they gazed with wonder at the legendary Mujar.
Chanter looked past them at the soldiers, who had reached the edge
of the web and paused. They turned to each other in a heated
debate, the words of which were too soft to hear. Several slaves
whimpered and moved to stand behind the Mujar. Chanter turned and
walked away, the freed people hurrying beside him, glancing back
often. They had only gone a few paces when the guardsmen came to a
decision. With a collective roar of rage and frustration, they quit
the tar and charged towards the dead forest. Slaves and chosen
alike screamed and ran, except for Talsy, who stopped beside
Chanter to gaze back at the men. The Mujar shook his head with
sadness and regret.

"You are not
chosen," he muttered, then addressed the ground. "Those are not
mine."

The earth
rippled, a wave of eager vengeance emanating from it as the Dargon
heard his words. The soil opened beneath the soldiers' feet, and
the leaders were swallowed with screams that ended abruptly. The
men behind them tried to dash back to the tar, but the land became
a strange and savage beast that gulped its prey with earthen mouths
and crushed them with stone teeth. Most succumbed to a mercifully
swift death, but two struggled with their legs trapped in the soil,
shrieking. The ground rose around them and buried them.

Chanter turned
to find Talsy staring after the vanished men, pity and horror in
her eyes. She looked at him with confusion and shame.

"I thought
Mujar didn't kill."

"I did not do
the killing."

"You ordered
it."

Chanter clasped
her shoulder. "I gave no orders, I only disowned them. Their fate
was brought about by their own deeds."

"I wish all
Truemen were chosen."

"If that was
the case, none of this would be happening, and the Black Riders
would not exist." He paused, looking past her into the dead forest.
"They were dead anyway. The Hashon Jahar will be here
tomorrow."

"What about
Kieran?"

"I hope he'll
return safely to us before then. He's a resourceful warrior, so I
think he will."

"I wish we
could help him."

Chanter raised
a brow. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't. You
said we need him."

"Yes, we do. If
you want to help him, why not ask Shyass?"

Talsy
considered this, then shook her head. "No, I don't think I should.
If he isn't in trouble, she'll be angry that I wasted her
time."

"You learn
quickly, for a Lowman. Indeed, the wind souls are not to be trifled
with. I'm glad you have realised it. Call on them only when you are
in grave danger, or trapped, as you were."

"They're so
wild," she murmured.

"Nothing is
quite as wild as the wind. No one can ever tame it."

"Isn't a Mujar
wilder?"

He laughed.
"Not even a Mujar is that wild. Have you not done an excellent job
of taming me?"

"No, you're as
free as you ever were; you just choose to stay with me."

"Free, yes, but
wild? No, I was wild before I marked you, but no longer. Now I
serve the chosen, and must bring them safely to the gathering. I
have a purpose, which no Mujar ever had before, and it's because of
you."

Talsy gazed at
the distant city visible through the dead trees' black trunks. Her
breath misted before her face as she sighed, thinking of the people
trapped within it, condemned to die by the swords of the Hashon
Jahar and hated by the land upon which they lived. Thousands of
innocent children were doomed because of the sins of their
ignorant, bigoted parents, who could now only await the fate they
had unleashed upon themselves. The dead forest was testament to
their destructiveness, and their wish to dominate and shape the
world against its will. Until it fought back. A sense of doom
suffused her, coming not only from the murdered trees. A strong
foreboding filled the air and made her shiver at its sinister
touch; an unsung funeral dirge for those soon to die.

Snow began to
fall in a shifting veil between her and the doomed city, greying
the night and covering the ground with its pale shroud. Chanter
raised his face to its frigid touch. The flakes settled on his
features and gathered in his hair as he closed his eyes. Talsy
shared his joy at the soft snowfall, the healing touch of frozen
water that fell in a billion uniquely patterned flakes, each a
wonder of artistry. The enchantment of snow and land filled her
with its wild rapture, and her soul longed to fly as free as the
wind that played with the drifting flakes, making them dance
between the blackened trees. The fall of Shissar promised renewal
for the dead land under the glow of moonlit clouds. The sweet
vigour of the untamed was somehow stronger for its rebellion. Talsy
held out her hand to catch a dainty flake, admiring its fragile
beauty in the instant before it melted. Such was nature, to create
something so exquisite for a mere moment of wonder, then destroy it
as swiftly as it had been born.

Chanter grinned
at her, his eyes bright. "Come, run with me. Feel the wildness of
Mujar. There shall be life here again, in the memory of trees."

The Mujar
stepped away and raised his arms in an open-handed gesture of
giving and restoration. Earthpower filled the air, summoned from
the ground by his silent call, as cold as the snow that fell from
above. He turned, scattering the magic with a sweep of his arms,
sending it into the trees to fan the spark of life that nestled
deep within their roots in the bosom of the frosty earth. She
sensed the rising Earthpower like a tide pouring from the soil,
carrying in its freezing magic the bounty of life. It rose within
her like a warm wash of blood, defying the chill that nipped her
skin.

Brimming with
sudden joy that made her want to weep and laugh, she followed
Chanter's dancing steps as he twirled amongst the blackened trunks,
the Earthpower swirling around him like a mantle. Where it touched,
green shoots sprouted from the charred bark, twisting and swelling.
Others thrust up through the thin crust of snow, dancing to the
unheard music the Mujar spread about him. A wondrous strength
infused Talsy as the burgeoning of a pure, unfettered magic lifted
her spirit and cleansed her soul.

The wild magic
flooded the air and brightened the starlit landscape, turning the
snow into a bed of sparkling crystals that formed a pristine
backdrop to the stark black trunks now furred with greenness. The
scent of new life added its sweet tang to the glittering air. The
rustle of growth and the creak of swelling wood as sap rose to
invigorate the trees were like faint music to which the Mujar
danced. She laughed and danced with him, the spell of freedom
enthralling her with an ecstasy that buoyed her up and carried her
feet lightly over the snow in his footsteps.

With a swift
burst of iciness, he became a black wolf and gambolled through the
snow, his breath steaming from a wide, panting mouth gleaming with
white teeth. Broad paws crunched the snow in a meandering track as
he soaked the forest with life-giving magic. A spreading green wave
followed the dancing Mujar, and Talsy's laughter mingled with
Chanter's panting yelps of joy. The squeaking shush of their feet
on the crisp snow was a soft beat to the music of happiness. A
distant wild cry came from the living forest in a mournful, wailing
call that drifted on the air amid the falling snow. The wolf pack
came running to greet Chanter, and she laughed at their playful
capering, so full of joy and wonderful wildness.

Surrounded by
the pack of lithe, bounding wolves, she followed Chanter in his
dancing run, which had almost taken them halfway around the distant
city. Ahead, dead trunks loomed, behind them living trees thrust
out new-born branches. As a small part of this miracle, Talsy
experienced the ecstasy of Nature and the pure, untamed joy of life
as never before. The trees' restoration brought a sensation of
being at one with the land, as if her flesh was soil and her blood
the water that fed all the growing things that yearned for the sun.
Under the star-sprinkled skies with their gentle fall of snow, she
experienced a rebirth, a purification of body and soul as the wind
tugged at her hair and chilled her skin.

Talsy ran as
one with the wolves, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground,
buoyed by the flow of Earthpower and the life it bestowed. A black
wolf with flame-blue eyes and the joyful prance of a pup led the
way, drawing in his path the beauty of life. He summoned from the
land the power to recreate that which had been lost, bringing back
the forest destroyed by Lowmen savages with fire. Never had she
been in the midst of so much power and joy. The land rippled under
her feet as growing things thrust up from the soil.

This was the
power of Mujar, as much a part of the land and trees as the forest
itself. What she could sense was but a fraction of it, yet it was
enough to make her life before this pale into insignificance at the
beauty of this moment, when death became life, springing as eternal
as hope as it flooded from the soil. Like a vastly accelerated
springtime, the forest was reborn verdant and fecund. Only the
blackened treetops, too burnt to be restored, told the story of the
fire that had once destroyed this forest.

When at last
they reached the living trees that marked the beginning of
Chanter's run, Talsy flopped down gasping, reaching out to stroke
the smooth fur of the grey wolves that pressed close around the
Mujar. They paid her no heed, but raised their muzzles to howl a
savage song. Chanter stood panting, then, in a flash of Dolana,
became a man again, gazing at the tall city walls that guarded and
imprisoned the people within. The magic ebbed back into the earth
whence it had been summoned, and, with a wave of his hand, he sent
the wolves away. They frolicked towards the twisted trees of an
angry Kuran, and he sank down beside her. His skin glowed and his
hair glittered with the strange wild power he possessed.