Broken World Book Two - StarSword (31 page)

Tyrander gazed
out of his trophy room window, which overlooked the lower
battlements and the road that wound through the oasis to the
castle's mighty gates. His pennants and flags flapped in a warm
breeze, long streamers of fine cloth winding like supple dancers
following a difficult tune. Beyond the greenery, red sand rippled
away to the horizon, where it met the blue sky in a hard line
unmarred by haze. Across this crimson sea of timeless sandy swells,
a long black line, smudged by red dust, approached.

Tyrander swung
away from the sight of his doom and clutched the golden cage that
held the Staff of Law. "Why do they come all this way for one
man?"

"They must,"
the fiery words wrote.

"Why is it that
my twin brother, who's my own flesh, is chosen, yet I'm not?"

"Flesh is not
judged, only what lies within it."

Tyrander
frowned, fingering the golden cage. "And you can do nothing to help
me."

"No."

"What are
they?"

The golden fire
swirled and reformed. "Death."

"Yet you govern
Death."

"No. That is
the domain of the Staff of Death."

Tyrander
glanced at the approaching Black Riders and paced around. "And you
govern it. Summon it here."

"That would
avail you nothing. The Staff of Death cannot stop them."

"Then what
can?" Tyrander cried.

"Only a Mujar,
or Marrana, Goddess of Death."

"Then make me a
wall of fire at the castle walls."

"I cannot," the
staff replied.

"You command
fire. You created this oasis!"

"I cannot stand
against the Hashon Jahar. That is against my laws."

"Yet a Mujar
can!" The Prince’s strides lengthened as he paced up and down the
gleaming marble floor, driven by anger and frustration.

"The law does
not forbid him."

Tyrander read
the words with growing despair. "Are Mujar even outside your
laws?"

"Not all of my
laws, yet even those that bind them, they can break."

"Like bringing
people back from the dead."

"Just so," the
staff agreed.

Tyrander held
the insignificant pebble up and glared at it. "What are they? Tell
me the truth, staff. The hour of my death approaches, so no one
will learn the secret from me. Are Mujar all powerful?"

"Yes. They are
Life."

"So you've said
before, but it makes no sense. Explain it."

The golden fire
hissed and expanded, forming a veritable wall of writing, more than
the Prince had ever seen before. He read the words with eager
eyes.

"Mujar are the
ears and eyes of the God of Life, Antanar. They are his emissaries,
sent to test the Lowmen to whom he gave the gift of Life, aeons
ago. They command all of his powers. Nothing is denied them and no
one can stand against them. Not even the Hashon Jahar, emissaries
of Death, sent by the Goddess of Death, Marrana, to rid the world
of unworthy Lowmen."

Tyrander's eyes
narrowed. "And what are you? What's your purpose?"

"I am here to
enforce the laws that the gods set down when this world was
created. I hold all in order and keep balance between the two great
powers, Life and Death."

"Could a Mujar
perform your duty?"

"Not entirely,"
the golden words wrote.

"So without
you, the world would fall into disorder."

For a moment
the fire swirled in meaningless patterns, then wrote, "I cannot
predict that event, for I shall always exist."

The Prince let
the stone fall to the end of its chain and turned to gaze out at
the long black finger that crept across the desert towards his
castle. A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he headed for the
door.

Talsy slipped
and cannoned into Chanter, who had stopped further down the slope.
He grabbed her, keeping her upright as she fought to regain her
footing in the mud. Those behind her had suffered the same fate,
and some clung to trees while others dug their hands into the mud
to slow their slide. Kieran hung onto a tree with an arm around
Sheera's waist, while Roth and Ardel struggled to keep the Queen
from the ignominy of a muddy slide. The end of the steep downhill
beckoned from a line of leafy trees not far below, and Talsy
glanced up at Chanter when he made no move to continue down. The
Mujar had raised his head, and gazed around, nostrils flared.

She tugged at
his arm. "What's wrong?"

"Something." He
frowned. "Nothing."

"Which
one?"

Chanter shook
his head, then cocked it as if harkening to inner music, his eyes
distant. Talsy sensed a quivering in the air, like a whispering
sigh of something, or a silent wave of warning, yet it was nothing.
She shivered, clinging to his arm. The Mujar glanced at the tired
chosen on their precarious, muddy perches and made his way to the
bottom of the slippery slope. There he stopped again, released
Talsy and allowed the weary people to rest on the cold ground. They
handed out dried meat and journey bread, and a water skin made the
rounds. A woman pressed her wailing infant to her breast. Kieran
helped Sheera to a rock, and the old woman sat creakily. Talsy
gazed Chanter, a slight frown furrowing her brow.

The Mujar
wandered around, turned this way and that, cocked his head to
listen and scented the air like a hunted animal.

Tyrander
scowled at the seething blackness that wound up the red road
towards his castle. The drumming of hooves came faintly on the
breeze that ruffled the flags. Fascinated, he studied the
approaching Riders, who rode four abreast, stiffly upright on their
tireless, galloping steeds. He wished that he commanded such an
army, for with it he would conquer the world. He smiled as he
imagined that it was his army, returning after a successful foray
to add great lands to his kingdom.

They would
carry his banner to all the corners of the globe, as unstoppable as
the tide and as merciless as a bitter winter. Rather that than a
useless staff that forced him to live in its lifeless desert, or
even the magical sword, neither of which could protect him from the
Hashon Jahar. He jerked from his thoughts with a bitter laugh.
Individually, his two possessions held little power, but together
they would give him sweet revenge.

Turning away
from the door, he crossed the throne room to settle upon the
ornate, gilded throne. Lifting the stone on its chain, he opened
the golden cage and drew it forth. The sea-washed grey pebble gave
no hint of its true nature, but it had other aspects, he knew.

"Come to
me."

The pebble
swelled and glowed with a soft golden light, surrounded by a
pulsing rainbow nimbus. It stretched and lengthened, the glow
brightening to fiery incandescence. The Staff of Law left his hand
and hovered before him, still growing, its fire so bright that he
was forced to shield his eyes. It swung vertical, a rod of
brilliance now some six paces tall, its foot almost touching the
floor. The blinding light winked out, plunging the room into what
seemed like darkness after the staff's former radiance.

The Prince
stared at the Staff of Law. Never before had he invoked it, and its
active form stunned him: a slender, six-foot staff of pure
darkness, a window onto the void. A spray of tiny lights shone in
its depths, a whirlpool of stars trailing two long glittering arms,
an occasional pinprick of light relieving the blackness around it.
Intrigued, he rose and walked around it, studying the void within
it from every angle. Unlike the Starsword, it did not capture the
eyes and draw the viewer into it, nor was it as brightly filled
with stars. The Staff of Law was emptier, blacker, and more
powerful.

Tyrander said,
"Explain this. What am I seeing within you, and why do you look so
much like the Starsword in this form?"

The words that
formed in the air were as black as the staff. As if a pen had
parted reality, the writing seemed to tear asunder the thin fabric
of the world. After a moment of shock, Tyrander walked around the
writing until it was stark against the bright background of the
doorway.

"What you see
within me is this universe in its entirety, whilst what you see in
the Starsword is but a small portion of it."

"Are you and
the sword... similar?"

"We are made
from the same elements, but there the resemblance ends. The
Starsword is a reflection of the night sky, I contain the
universe."

Tyrander
snorted, frowning in confusion. "How is that possible? You're
within the universe, here before me on this world. How can it also
be inside you?"

"I am the Staff
of Law. I contain the universe and all that is in it. You are
without, and within me, as is everything."

Tyrander
shivered and touched the staff’s smooth, icy surface, so slick that
his fingers barely sensed it. "That's impossible," he muttered.
"Absolutely impossible."

"As the Staff
of Life contains all the powers of Life, and as the Staff of Death
contains all the powers of Death, I, who am the Staff of Law, must
therefore contain everything I control."

"And what use
are you, in this state?" Tyrander asked, studying the spinning
universe with its myriad tiny suns.

"None. I cannot
be wielded as the other two staffs can. My Laws may not be
changed."

"Useless,"
Tyrander said, scowling. "Utterly useless. All powerful, and
completely useless, just like Mujar."

"Yes," the
black word appeared against the sky. "Like them, I was not meant to
be used by such as you."

Chanter turned
to frown at Talsy. The chosen had settled down to their meal, glad
of the respite and blithely ignoring the undercurrents. All except
Kieran, Sheera and Shern, who watched the Mujar with deep
concern.

"The Staff of
Law has been invoked," he announced.

Talsy mirrored
his frown. "What can it do?"

"Nothing."

"Why would
Tyrander invoke it then?"

He shook his
head. "That's what worries me."

She forced
herself to relax a little, defying the tension he radiated. "Why
not summon it now?"

"I can't. When
a staff is active, it cannot be summoned."

"Is that a law
you can break?"

The Mujar
almost smiled. His expression softened, then grew distant again.
"It's not a law. It's a fact."

Talsy sighed
and shrugged. "Well, if he can't do anything with it, surely
there's nothing to worry about?"

Chanter turned
away, gazing into the sky once more, and she left him to join
Sheera, accepting a crust of journey bread to quiet the clamouring
of her stomach. The seeress shot her an enquiring look, and Talsy
spoke around a mouthful of food.

"It seems
Tyrander has invoked the Staff of Law."

"I should have
killed him," Kieran muttered.

"He can't do
anything with it."

"Then why does
Chanter look so worried?"

She glanced at
the Mujar. "I don't know."

The Hashon
Jahar’s thunder echoed through the castle, bringing with it the
dread they inspired. Tyrander tore his eyes from the beauty of the
spinning galaxy within the staff to glance out at the approaching
menace. Sunlight glinted on armour and lances, gleamed on the
silken hides of lifeless steeds. He wished that he had more time to
study this fascinating facet of the staff, but only a short stretch
of road separated the Black Riders from the castle walls, which
would not delay them long. Tyrander swung back to face the staff,
which seemed to draw light from the room into its inky depths,
filling the normally bright chamber with gloom.

"Take on your
true form," he ordered.

His hatred of
the world washed away any conscience that might have pricked him.
No one had ever loved him, shown him kindness or pity. From the
first, his father had shunned him for his devious ways, and his
mother, who had tried so hard to love him, had turned from him
finally, hurt beyond forgiveness by his harsh tongue. No one
understood him, least of all himself, for he had long wondered why
he felt so incomplete, alone, and missing something.

A veneer of
gnarled grey stone engulfed the staff’s blackness. The nothingness
of its void grew solid, taking on an aspect of ancient bedrock,
spawned at the beginning of time and unchanged since then. Tyrander
allowed the coldness within him to swallow the last dregs of his
pity for what he was about to destroy. When Kieran had appeared so
unexpectedly, he had realised what it was he had missed all of his
life. His twin, the other half of him, who had been split from him
in the womb and denied him by his father. He had always known he
had a twin, but not that it was Kieran's absence that had filled
him with so much bitterness and hate. His father had paid for that
mistake with his life, now this world would pay, too.

Tyrander
studied the Staff of Law. It stood six paces tall still, its foot,
bound in dull grey metal, resting on the marble floor. Thin lines
of golden fire ringed its length, and he stepped closer to peer at
them. Each line was a sentence chiselled into the stone in some
ancient language of angular letters. The tiny writing burnt with
the staff's golden fire, which filled the letters with its cold
glow.

The Prince ran
his finger along a sentence. "What's this?"

"The laws."
Fiery words scored the air once more.

Tyrander let
his eyes wander the length of the staff, with its thousands of
burning lines of writing. "Why can't I read it?"

"It is written
in the language of the gods."

"Yet I can read
your writing."

"Mine is my
own."

The thunder of
hooves outside stopped, and Tyrander glanced out of the door. A
cloud of red dust all but obscured the Hashon Jahar, but he could
see the halted column, the first row of Riders motionless. Behind
them, the second row moved to one side, taking up position next to
the first. The third row copied the manoeuvre, stopping on the
other side of the first line. Each row did the same, forming a new
line facing the castle. Tyrander smiled grimly.