Broken World Book Two - StarSword

by Southwell, T C

  The front door flew open, and a dozen soldiers invaded the house. Kieran’s sword left its scabbard with a soft hiss, Talsy swung around in surprise and alarm, and Shern looked up in confusion. Four invaders attacked Kieran, who held them at bay with vicious sword strokes. The rest rushed at Talsy, who made a dash for the closest window. Two men brought her down in a rough tackle that knocked the wind out of her. Her knife scored a few good cuts before they disarmed her and twisted her arms behind her. Kieran felled two of his attackers, then a man got behind him and clubbed him senseless.

  The robed figure of the elder from the alehouse filled the doorway, and he cast a jaundiced eye around Shern's humble dwelling. "Shern, you live like a pig." He raised a linen handkerchief to his nose in a fastidious gesture.

  "My lord Morgal!" Shern cried. "Why are you arresting these people? What have they done?"

  Morgal eyed Talsy. "She displeased me, and you know how easily I'm peeved these days. Sorry to take your client. I trust she's paid you?"

  "My Lord, I beg you, let them go."

  Morgal shook his head with a pained air. "No, I think not. I need some distraction in these last days. You have your drunkenness, I have my wenching."

  Talsy struggled against the uniformed guardsmen, who tightened their grip with brutal disregard for the pain they caused, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. Kieran sagged in the grip of two others, blood oozing down his face from a scalp wound. One of the soldiers examined the black sword curiously, then hid it under his cloak. Shern rose somewhat shakily to his feet.

  "What are they charged with?"

  Lord Morgal shrugged. "Disturbing the peace. Stealing. Who cares?"

  "You can't do this!" Talsy burst out. "Let us go!"

  "Oh but I can," Morgal drawled. "I'm an elder of this city, and we don't tolerate rudeness here."

  "You were the rude one, laying your hands on me!" she said. "I'm no trollop!"

  "No one turns down an offer from an elder, girl."

  Shern said, "My Lord, I beg you, just this once. She's my cousin from Jaramon. She didn't know. She's a stranger here."

  Morgal shook his head. "I'm not feeling generous today. You can visit her in prison."

  Morgal signalled to the guards, who dragged Talsy and Kieran out. Kieran could barely walk, and the guardsmen had to half carry him. Lord Morgal followed, his long robes sweeping the road, his face wreathed in a smile as he greeted passers-by. Not many spared a second glance for the prisoners, and Talsy got the impression that this was a common occurrence in this town.

  The soldiers marched them far from the slums where Shern dwelt, to a guardhouse in a more affluent part of the city. Talsy found it a bit strange that the City Watch had its quarters amongst the wealthy citizenry, but then realised that it made perfect sense if the rich folk paid the guardsmen to keep order in their area. She and Kieran were thrust into a stone cell with a single barred window, a bunk and a bucket, the floor sealed with tar, and the solid wooden door boomed shut behind them. The walls seeped dampness in dark streaks of black slime, and the marks of many prior prisoners scored them, names and numbers scratched into the stone in mute testimony to their existence.

  Kieran rose from the floor where the guards had flung him, wiping blood from his brow. Talsy was glad that he was not as badly injured as he had appeared, but hid it as she paced the floor with growing ire.

  "This is just great! We come here to free the chosen, and get flung in jail by some petty lord!"

  Kieran went to the window and peered out at the passing feet and cart wheels.

  "What are we going to do?" she demanded.

  "I don't know."

  "So you'll just sit here until the Black Riders arrive to slit your throat?"

  The warrior sank down on the rickety bunk. "Perhaps Shern can get us out."

  "You know what will happen, don't you? When the Hashon Jahar come, Chanter will try to save me, and he may get hurt!"

  "At least he can't die."

  "The chosen of this city will."

  Kieran sighed. "Then let them free us."

  Talsy swung away with a frustrated snort. Silence settled in the gloomy room as she paced up and down. Cold invaded her from the walls, and the tar's cloying smell made her head ache. After a while, her steps slowed as her legs joined her skull in aching and her feet became numb. She wondered if the seer would leave the city without them, and whether Chanter would know who they were. Would they risk fleeing into the hostile forest, not knowing if the Mujar would be there, or would they await certain death in the city? Talsy jumped as a warm hand took her arm and led her to the bed.

  Kieran pushed her down and sat beside her, chafing her arms. "You're freezing." He removed his short cloak and draped it around her shoulders. "Relax; you're only wearing yourself out."

  "How can I relax? We have to get out of here!"

  "Pacing yourself to death won't help. Chanter will save you."

  "He shouldn't have to! I'm..." She raised a hand to her brow. "He said I wouldn't need him after he marked me."

  "Why?"

  "The mark..." She shook her head. "But I don't know how."

  "How to what?"

  She sighed, her head pounding so badly now that she could hardly think. "It doesn't matter."

  "Why are you so damned cold?" He rubbed her arms again.

  "It's the Earthpower."

  He stared at her. "You're not Mujar."

  "No, but I feel it more than before. I felt it in the wood, before the Dargon attacked. Did you?"

  He shook his head. "I only feel it when he uses it."

  "That's a manifestation, not the real thing. Since he marked me, I can sense it when he wields it, but only Dolana."

  "So what does that mean?"

  "I don't know. It's given me a headache too. Chanter said that Dolana is an unfriendly power. It's the only one that can trap him, and it's the most powerful of the four. This place is filled with it, that's why I'm cold."

  Kieran eyed her. "But you can't use it."

  "I'm not Mujar."

  "Well if you can feel it, maybe you can. Have you tried?"

  She shivered. "No. Chanter said I wouldn't be able to."

  Kieran gave a disappointed grunt and stripped off his jacket to put around her, but her chill continued to worsen. As the world outside the window darkened, two metal bowls containing a tiny amount of watery stew and soggy bread were pushed under the door. Talsy had no appetite, so Kieran ate it all. By now, he was worried about her, for she lay on the bunk racked by shivering spasms. He tried to summon the guards, but his calls echoed down the empty corridors beyond the cell, unanswered. After dark, he made a futile attempt to kick down the door, then lay beside her and tried to warm her, but only lessened her chill a little.

  Talsy tossed and turned, keeping him awake. She moaned and tried to push him away, whispered Chanter's name in beseeching tones and muttered too softly for him to make out the words. After a while, she settled down, and he was able to catch a few hours of sleep.

  Talsy woke him when she climbed off the bed. She went to stand in the tiny patch of golden warmth that crept across the floor, and he watched her warily. Holding her hands in it, she weaved her fingers, as if playing with the golden beams, and he wondered if she had lost her reason.

  "This is Crayash, the Power of Fire," she said.

  He nodded. "So?"

  "Chanter told me what to do."

  "When?"

  "In my dreams, last night." She smiled.

  Kieran sighed. "It was just a dream."

  "The souls will help me now. I'm Mujar marked. Dargon and Kuran are banished by the earth blood and the souls of fire don't dwell nearby."

  He rose and stretched. "You're talking crazy, you know that?"

  "No I'm not," she retorted. "I'm going to call the wind."

  "That's all we need, a cold draught."

  "The souls of the wind are called Shanar. Come to me, Shanar, I need you."

 
; "You're nuts." Kieran sat down on the bed again. "What good will that do?"

  "Don't underestimate the Power of Ashmar. It can do more than you know."

  He gestured to the door. "How will it get us out of here?"

  "I don't know. Why don't you wait and see?"

  Kieran leant back against the wall and folded his arms, gazing at her with mocking eyes.

  Talsy was certain that what Chanter had told her in the dream was real. It had been as vivid as the ones that had driven her from Rashkar before it fell. Now that she had the Mujar mark, she sensed his guidance more strongly, and his teachings echoed in her mind. Ashmar was the weakest of the four Powers. She had seen him use it only to change form and drive the ship. The wind could flatten a town such as this, however, and even Truemen's stoutest constructions would not withstand a hurricane's fury. Kieran had lost interest, and gazed at the tramping feet and rattling wheels that passed outside the window.

  Talsy sensed the first whisper of wind and turned to face the window through which it blew, cool and fresh as a mountain breeze. It carried the scent of pine trees and windswept crags, a gentle, indescribable smell of wild open spaces, clouds and rain. Its silken currents held scents of hot rock and brine, even the golden smell of sunlight fresh from the high ethers. A soft presence, made of stirring air and mingled aromas, replaced the stagnant air in the stuffy cell. Shanar were invisible, they could be sensed only through touch and smell, and she closed her eyes to better know the strange entity that had entered her prison. The Shanar playfully lifted her hair and caressed her cold skin with warm breaths that sent shivers through her. It filled her lungs with freshness untainted by the city's smoke and dust.

  Chapter Four

  Kieran straightened with an oath, sniffing the cool breeze. Talsy smiled as she opened her eyes. The wind rustled around the room, filled its cramped confines with memories of the open spaces through which it usually frolicked and brought its wildness into the ugly little space. Like a trapped wild creature, it moved around restlessly, caressing them with gentle zephyrs of scented air. Though Ashmar was the least powerful, Talsy sensed that it was the wildest of the four powers, formless and unfettered. Like the Mujar who sometimes rode it in bird form, the wind knew no master and bowed to no bondage, yet it was here at her behest, answering her call. The gravity of it awed her, and the presence of the untamed soul she had summoned filled her with deep gratitude and wonder.

  "Shanar," she murmured.

  The wind's voice whispered in a soft melody, a sound as still as the deepest silence. "Friend of Life, know me."

  Remembering the souls' odd speech, which was sometimes unintelligible, Talsy struggled to understand the simple words. "I know you."

  "Do you?" A whispered chuckle. "Who am I?"

  "Shanar, the wind."

  "Life has blessed you, yet you do not know me."

  Talsy fought off panic. What if she said the wrong thing? Desperate to please, she said, "Teach me."

  "Ah, better, humble one. I am Shyass, wind of the mountains. Know me now?"

  "Shyass, wind of the mountains," she repeated.

  The wind chuckled, ruffling her hair with a playful gust. She realised that the wind soul was a playful being, and probably teased her, as winds were apt to do when people tried to make use of them.

  "Help me," she pleaded.

  "Why else am I here?" the wind whispered. "Why else would you call? Why else would I answer, blessed of Life? What need have you of me?"

  "I need to be free."

  "So, this I understand. None should be tamed or caged. I enjoy the playfulness of men, who stretch cloth before me and bid me serve them."

  "I ask a favour, nothing more," Talsy assured it.

  The wind chuckled again. "I do not mock you, humble one. I grant your favour, but how would you?"

  "How would I what?"

  A breeze sighed in her ear, tickled her and raised her nape hair with fingers of cold air. "Be free."

  Talsy pointed. "The door."

  "Ah, open, yes. Free the wind, blow the door, crush the men."

  "No harm."

  "Harm, say you? You are not me, blessed of Life. Find you a corner, be very still. I shall quit this place, the door I shall kill."

  Talsy understood the warning, if little else, and walked over to Kieran. "Come, we must sit in the corner, out of harm's way."

  The warrior gazed at her with deep doubt. "What have you done?"

  "The wind's going to blow down the door."

  "Oh great. And what about us? That's a damned spirit you're dealing with. It doesn't know about flesh and blood."

  The wind whispered, "Fear not, friend of forests, Shyass has touched the skins of men aeons gone. Flesh is known to me."

  "Did you hear that?" Talsy asked Kieran.

  "All I can hear is a sort of rustling."

  "Well, don't worry, she knows about flesh. We must sit in a corner."

  "I don't know that this is such a good idea."

  "Just do it, okay?" Talsy gripped his arm and dragged him from the bunk. "You want to get out of here, and I've summoned the wind to help us. The least you can do is show a little appreciation. Not everyone can do this, you know."

  The wind chuckled, tickling her cheek. "Friend are you, foolish one, fear of me is good."

  Talsy ignored the teasing and pushed Kieran into a corner. He sat on the floor, and she joined him.

  The wind rose to swirl around the room, gathering speed as the temperature dropped. The air seemed to swell, pressing against her eardrums until she held her nose to pop them. Still the wind gathered speed, spinning faster and faster, drawing more of itself into the room and filling it with whipping wildness. Dust leapt off the floor in little spirals, and the wind burnt her eyes, forcing her to squint. She turned her head away and gasped as she found nothing to breathe in her lee, forced to turn back and inhale the rushing air. A soft moaning whistled along the walls and rose to a howl as its force increased. The wooden bunk flew across the room and smashed against the far wall, and the splinters joined the swirling madness, flying around the room.

  Talsy ducked her head and clasped her hands over it, wondering if Kieran was right after all. He pressed her back into the corner behind him, holding her to him with one arm. The wind tugged at her clothes, yet not that strongly, and none of the wooden shards came near them. A minor tornado filled the room now, made visible by the dust and debris that spun in its vortex, a thing of amazing beauty, deadly and wild, swaying as it danced in the centre of the floor. The howling rose to fluting notes and a faint scream of power. The wind that pressed them back into the corner was hard in its savagery, yet gentle in its care. Talsy shivered, for it was as icy as the mountain snow whence she had summoned it, and streaks of frost formed on the walls.

  The wind changed, and she gasped as the air was sucked from her lungs. The tornado rushed at the door with all its spinning fury, in a movement too fast for the eye to follow and too sudden for the mind to perceive. The force of the blast smashed the door down, and a million splinters flew outward as the wind rushed through it, carrying the debris with it. A gale howled through the room, channelled by the window in a high-pitched scream. Talsy cowered back, awed by the wind's massive power and wild intensity, the unbridled fury with which it quit the room. Yet it had not, for it sang now in a voice of sweet melody, given it by its passage.

  "How now, blessed of Life? You are as free as I."

  "Thank you," Talsy gasped.

  The wind laughed in trills of breathy little shrieks. "Joy is mine, small one. Good play was this, invite me again."

  "I will," Talsy promised, amazed to find that she had made a new friend. Reaching out, she held her hand in the rushing air that howled through the room like an invisible river. It pushed against her palm, as if clasping her hand in a cold caress that held the frosty entity's muted power, a mountain blizzard, wild and free. The pressure against her hand died as the wind howled away through the prison's corridors, flying b
ack to its mountain. The beauty of it mesmerised Talsy, and Kieran hauled her to her feet, dragging her from the cell.

  "Come on! Let's get out of here while we can."

  Kieran towed her through deserted, windswept corridors. Streaks of frost on the walls, and comatose guardsmen stretched out on the floor, marked Shyass' passing. Two more doors had succumbed to her fury, leaving a clear path to the outside world. A gawping crowd had gathered around the fallen doors, which had been blown off their hinges and flung far down the street. Kieran and Talsy ducked into the throng, losing themselves in the crush. With luck, hours would pass before anyone realised that two prisoners were missing, Talsy mused. Now they had to find their way back to Shern's dwelling to carry out their mission.

  Finding the house again took the better part of an hour, but when they did, Talsy was pleased to find Shern at home, packing his belongings. His surprise at the sight of them was comical, and his delight unfeigned. He told them that the city's chosen were already at work gathering a bribe to free them, and would have arrived at the prison later that day. Their escape had saved several hours and a risk of failure, however. He went outside to send a street urchin running to tell the others the good news, and with instructions to purchase a wagon and horses instead. Returning, he brewed a pot of tea and asked the question he had doubtless been itching to air ever since their arrival.

  "How did you escape?"

  "Talsy summoned the wind," Kieran said.

  "The wind?" Shern hid his surprise well. "How did you do that?"

  "The Mujar mark makes it possible for me to ask aid from the souls of this world," she explained, preening just a little.

  "Indeed, and doubtless we will need all the help we can get." Shern poured steaming tea. "You realise that those I've told are but a fraction of the chosen in the city. The majority are chained to the wheel, slaves of the lords in this town. Do you know how we will free them?"

  Talsy shook her head. "The Mujar said that we would have to free the chosen here. He must have a plan."

  "I hope so." The seer sipped his tea. "It would be a shame to leave so many behind."