Broken World Book Two - StarSword

by Southwell, T C

  "How many are with us now?"

  "Only a dozen or so. Another forty are in chains."

  Talsy nodded. "We'll save as many as we can, and, if it comes to choosing, take the youngest."

  "How much time do we have?"

  "A couple of days, I think."

  By the time they finished the tea and some delicious cakes, the urchin had returned with a plump man with a round face and merry brown eyes. He was an innkeeper, and looked sad, for his wife of twenty years was unchosen, Shern told them. He shook their hands and forced a smile, though his eyes gleamed with moisture and he rubbed his nose often. His message was a welcome one.

  "The chosen are on the move. Most have walked out of the city to avoid suspicion, and will mount the wagon there. It would look odd if a motley collection of traders, farmers and innkeepers elected to go for a joy ride with the seer and two strangers. Risnar has his own horse and has ridden out. The wagon is on its way here."

  Having delivered his message, the innkeeper reverted to his gloomy introspection. Shern plied him with tea and cakes until the wagon arrived, driven by a mild-faced man and his plump wife, three small children tumbling in the back amid sacks of food and camping equipment. The wagon rattled through the streets to the gates, drawn by a pair of tired looking horses.

  Talsy was surprised when a stern-faced guard stopped them at the gates and regarded the wagon with deep suspicion.

  "Off somewhere, Derrin?" he asked the farmer.

  Derrin beamed. "Indeed I am. To Lassor, to sell my surplus."

  "Uhuh. And you, seer?"

  Shern shrugged. "Along for the ride. It's been ages since I got out of this stinking town."

  The soldier scowled at Kieran. "How about you, stranger? Hitching a lift, I suppose?"

  Kieran nodded. "That's where we're going."

  The guardsman looked sour, but waved them through. "Be careful of the paths, it seems like everyone wanted to go for a walk this morning."

  Shern chuckled as they rattled out of earshot. "Poor fool."

  "Why do they stop us going out? They didn't question us when we came in," Talsy asked.

  "To stop an exodus. Everyone knows the Black Riders are coming. Many might be tempted to flee, though it would do them little good."

  As the cart crawled across the black web, wandering people converged on it and climbed aboard to lie down amongst the provisions. Some were couples with small children, the rest were young women and a few boys. As soon as the last was aboard, Derrin whipped up the horses and headed for the road that ran into the burnt forest. Once they were out of sight of the city, Derrin looked over his shoulder at Talsy.

  "Where are we going?"

  "As far as the living trees, then stop."

  When they reached the twisted forest, the farmer stopped the wagon and Talsy jumped down, which evinced a horrified outcry from the cart's occupants. Derrin and Shern tried to grab her and drag her back aboard, but she skipped out of reach, laughing.

  "I'm chosen. Nothing will harm me."

  The ripple that passed under her feet almost belied her words, but then the earth stilled. Some trees close by stirred a little, then subsided. Talsy studied the sky, expecting to find a great daltar eagle circling above, but the blue expanse was empty. The drumming of hooves made her look around as a burly farmer rode up and reined in beside the wagon. Derrin grinned at the man.

  "This is Risnar," he explained, as the farmer gaped at Talsy.

  Talsy nodded to the man and glanced around again for Chanter, surprised at his tardiness. Kieran jumped down beside her, and another ripple passed through the land. As she wondered what could have delayed the Mujar, a collective gasp from the cart drew her attention to the dead forest behind her. Chanter strode through the ash, and Talsy ran to embrace him with a glad cry. She released him after a brief hug, aware that a dozen pairs of eyes watched them from the wagon. The Mujar walked beside her to the waiting people, scanning them.

  The newly chosen watched him with fear, awe and wonder, as he walked around the cart. Stopping beside the pair of drooping horses, he undid the harness.

  "So few?" He glanced at Talsy.

  "Only these are free, some forty more are in bondage."

  "I thought so. Still, with these we can free the rest."

  "How?"

  He pulled the bridle off one of the horses and freed it from its harness. "I'll explain later."

  The freed horse ambled away into the forest, and Chanter released the other one. The people in the wagon looked stunned and fearful. When the second horse followed the first, the Mujar walked around to the side of the wagon.

  "Come down," he said.

  The chosen huddled closer together, some shaking their heads in mute denial. After years of conditioning, stepping onto the ground was not an easy thing to do. Derrin made a hesitant movement, and his wife pulled him back. Shern rose and clambered over the side of the cart with an air of determination, then froze before his foot touched the ground, his face twisted with terror. The others stared at him in horrified wonder. Kieran walked over and tried to help him down, prying at his fingers that clung to the cart with a death grip. Talsy moved closer and looked up at the fearful faces.

  "Don't you trust the Mujar? He says come down. There's nothing to fear."

  Several people whimpered, and a child cried. Talsy joined Kieran in trying to pry Shern's frozen fingers free. Between them, they loosened him from the cart and pulled him down. He stood cringing, and a ripple passed under their feet.

  Chanter stamped his foot. "These are mine too, mark them. All who set foot beside me are chosen."

  The tremor faded, and Shern straightened, his expression becoming incredulous. He strolled in an experimental circle, like a cripple discovering that he could walk, watching his feet traverse the deadly land. Emboldened by his example, one of the young women jumped down. She gasped in shock and fear, then walked about like Shern. Seeing that nothing had happened to the first two, another youngster joined them, then another.

  Slowly the people left the wagon, each experiencing a moment of panic and terror before they overcame years of training and rediscovered the joys of walking on soil. Risnar unstrapped himself from his saddle and slid down, following Chanter's example by unsaddling his horse and releasing it. The small children had the worst time of it. For them, the ground had always been deadly, and they screamed when their parents pulled them from the wagon and set them on it. Most tried to climb back onto the safety of the cart, but gradually they, too, accepted it. While this was going on, Chanter drew Talsy aside.

  "The ones who walked out of the city must return at dusk. I'll give each of them a stone, and with these they can free their chained brethren. I've filled the stones with Dolana and a command that will unbind anything of Dolana they touch, like metal chains. Once they're free, they must go to the wall nearest the tall spire that can be seen from the forest. When it's dark, I'll open a portal for them to come through."

  "What about the moat?"

  Chanter shook his head. "They must wade it. The earth blood is not that deep, and will not harm them."

  "I'll go with them, of course."

  "No, you won't. Only the ones who walked out of the city may return. If you're seen, they'll wonder why you've come back."

  "But what if they fail?" she protested.

  "How can you change that? Not all will fail, of that I'm certain."

  "They're just youngsters."

  He raised a brow. "Your age and older, aren't they?"

  "Yes but... can you open the wall from here? What about the earth blood?"

  "The wall is not built on earth blood, that was put down after the city was built. It will be difficult, but I can do it."

  Talsy sighed, disappointed to be left out of the action, but glad that she would not be parted from him again. His plan seemed sound, but it was based on too little information. What if the slaves were locked up at night? What if they were guarded? The only way to find out was from Shern,
and she left Chanter to approach the seer, who still marvelled at his newfound ability to walk on bare ground unmolested. Interrupting his wandering, she quizzed him about the slaves' night quarters, and he told her that they were merely chained in a large open shed, unguarded. As Shern pointed out, there was nowhere to run. Even if they stole a horse, they were branded, so fleeing to another city would do them no good, and none could survive in the hostile forests for long.

  Talsy explained Chanter's plan, and Shern agreed that it was a good one, but said that the people would not want to go back. She sent him to tell them about it, noticing, as he walked away, that Kieran appeared to be arguing with Chanter. The Mujar shook his head, and she hurried over to see what was going on. The tall warrior looked angry and tight-lipped, his eyes hard, while the Mujar appeared sad but adamant. Chanter turned to her as she walked up.

  "What's wrong?" she enquired.

  "Kieran wishes to regain his sword. I have said it's impossible."

  "You said it's a good weapon, and I'll need it," Kieran pointed out. His eyes darted between them, clearly expecting them to gang up on him.

  "Yes, but it's lost." Chanter sighed. "To go back would be folly."

  Talsy glared at Kieran. "If Chanter says no, that's it. He's in charge here. If you go back and someone spots you, they'll lock you up and no one will be able to free you before the Black Riders come."

  "I won't get caught if I go back after dark."

  "The gates are closed at dusk."

  He gestured in annoyance at the expected dissent. "Then I'll use the portal."

  "The portal will be open for only a few minutes," Chanter pointed out, shaking his head.

  Kieran scowled at Talsy, thwarted by the logic of the Mujar's argument. He spun on his heel and strode away, his hand resting on the empty scabbard as if a part of him was missing. A warrior without a sword would not be complete, she supposed, and he missed it just as she missed her knife, maybe more. Chanter watched him go, his eyes narrowed.

  "I think he will still try to get it back."

  "Then he's a fool," Talsy snapped. "And if he gets caught it will be his own fault."

  "But we need him."

  "What for?"

  The Mujar glanced at the chosen, who now appeared to be embroiled in an argument with Shern. "They're not warriors, and we have many more cities to visit, many more chosen to free."

  She nodded. "I'll talk to him."

  Talsy headed for Kieran, who leant against a tree, scowling at the twisted forest. Before she reached him, Shern caught up with her and tugged at her sleeve.

  "Only two have agreed to go back," he said. "The rest refuse."

  "Refuse?" She stared at him with incredulous anger.

  "I would go, but I can't. So would Derrin and Torril, the innkeeper, but we all left on the wagon."

  "Don't they want to save the others?"

  "They're young and frightened."

  She snorted. "I'm young too, but I'd go back."

  "Is there no way those of us who were on the wagon could return?"

  "Not without arousing suspicion." She frowned. "Two won't be able to free many."

  "Unless they gave stones to those they had freed and bade them free more."

  "Yes." She pondered a moment. "That might work."

  Accompanied by the nervous seer, she took the suggestion to Chanter, who listened with obvious disappointment. He agreed that it would work, though not as well as the first plan. His comment that the people lacked courage made Shern wince, but there was no denying the truth of his words. Most Truemen cared more for their own well-being than that of others. Talsy looked around for Kieran, who had vanished. Several hours still remained until dusk, and it was possible that he had gone hunting, although they had enough food.

  When the sun filled the clouds on the horizon with ruddy light, Kieran was still absent. The two brave youngsters, a boy in his late teens and a girl in her early twenties, were dispatched back to the city before the gates closed, each with a pouch of Chanter's stones. The rest of the band settled down to wait in the evening cold, parents wrapping their children in blankets. Although she had intended to stay awake, Talsy dozed off leaning against a tree trunk.

  Chanter woke her when the moon had settled behind the trees in a dull golden glow and stars gleamed in the chill night sky. Taking her hand, he led her through the eerie dead forest of black trunks and silver ash. Arriving at the edge of the trees, Chanter stopped and gazed at the distant moonlit city whose dull roofs were visible over the great wall. The black spire marked the meeting place, and Talsy hoped that all the slaves had gathered there by now, ready to escape. The Mujar stared at the wall for several minutes, perhaps contemplating what he had to do.

  Chanter considered the earth blood that webbed the ground between him and the wall. Its pull was a powerful, icy drain that sapped his strength, even from here. To wield Dolana so close to it was dangerous, a potential trap into which he must not fall. This was why he had wanted Kieran with him, so the warrior could carry him away should he grow too weak. Now he had only Talsy, and he doubted that the girl was strong enough to do it. He considered sending her to fetch Shern, then discarded the idea. If he was careful, he should remain free. He did not need to press his palms to the ground; already too much Dolana filled him, but not dangerously so. Warning the girl to hold her breath, he braced himself and invoked the Earthpower.

  The giant river of frigid silver power leapt into his grasp, sending a million icy tendrils through him. He invoked Crayash to counter it, aware of Talsy's gasp of surprise as the screaming inferno followed the frozen stillness. Controlling two Powers was usually easy, but difficult now due to Dolana's overwhelming strength. Putting the burning thread of Crayash into the back of his mind, he concentrated on the mighty, writhing river of Dolana and commanded it. The earth shivered under the lash of the enormous power he wielded. To aid his concentration, he raised an arm and pointed at the distant wall.

  Dolana surged, swelled by the earth blood. The black web on the earth before him sapped his strength, and he fanned Crayash to counter the frozen fingers that probed him. The command travelled through the soil in a ripple of Dolana that carried his will to the distant wall. The moat swelled the river of Earthpower so much that he struggled to control it, and the terrible cold threatened to numb his mind and rob him of his will. Again he fanned Crayash, using its warmth to burn away the numbness.

  In the distance, the wall parted like curtains drawn aside. It yawned emptily, then a figure emerged, followed by another, then a third. The third figure wore only a loincloth, as did the rest who followed him. The first person, one of the chosen who had been sent back, set off across the black web, ignoring its lines to take a direct route. The second chosen did the same, but the newly freed slaves ran along the paths. A dark figure detached itself from the shadows at the base of the wall and darted into the portal, vanishing through it.

  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 c
arried 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.