Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law

by Southwell, T C

  Talsy cried, “So that’s why he’s blind!”

  “Law,” Chanter said, “what do they look like?”

  “Gold... golden fire.”

  The world spun around Talsy, and she gripped Travain’s shoulder as a surge of pure joy brought hot tears to her eyes and a huge lump swelled in her chest. “He’s got the laws! We’re saved! The world is saved!”

  Even as her happiness filled her to the brim, she became aware of the strained silence that had fallen over the group. Kieran looked stunned and joyful, his relief tinged with disbelief. Travain appeared puzzled, but willing to go along with his mother’s happiness, but Chanter stared at his son with deep sorrow.

  Talsy glanced at Travain, then back at him. “What’s wrong?”

  Chanter’s face became deadpan. “Nothing we can do anything about. You’re right, he has the laws. He has carried them to us, like a destiny. That’s where his name comes from, that’s why he’s blind. Justice is always blind.”

  “So we can restore the staff!”

  “Yes. Not we, Law. The gods have answered you. Your faith has been rewarded. They saw to it that the laws were preserved within the mind of a young Mujar and brought to us. You were right, the wind told me of his plight because the gods willed it, and saving him was your final test.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  Chanter studied Law. “I’m not sure. If the fire will be released when he opens his eyes, then we can only hope that if he does this in the proximity of the Staff of Law, the laws will return to their former home.”

  “And if they don’t? What if we do it wrong?”

  “What else can we do? Do you have another suggestion?”

  “No.”

  Chanter rose to his feet, his manner solemn. “Law, come with me.”

  The youngster obeyed, sidling away from Travain. Once far enough away from the crossbreed, he relaxed and lowered his hands. Talsy and Kieran followed, Travain trailed behind.

  Reaching the room that housed the Staff of Law, Chanter pushed open the door and preceded Law into its dusty confines.

  The young Mujar hesitated upon the threshold, his attention riveted by the ancient, six-foot staff that lay on its bed of dusty velvet. He approached it, tilting his head to assimilate the Powers that drew a strange picture in his mind. Talsy exclaimed in disgust at the state of the room, opening the curtains to let in a flood of light.

  Law stood at the staff’s foot and studied the image in his mind. The long, glowing rod of silver Dolana was so pure it was almost white to his sensitive perception. Within the whiteness he read the lines of tiny writing etched in gleaming brilliance. The same writing that lived within his mind in the streams of golden fire. Reverently, he fell to his knees and touched the cold, gnarled surface of the ancient bedrock that had been drawn from the world when it was young and fashioned into this instrument of the gods. He caressed its carved lines, fingering the tiny letters while he whispered the words that echoed in his mind. The fire within his brain seemed to cower in a far corner, acquiescent and dim.

  Chanter sank down on one knee beside him, a brief flash of tallana bursting between them before they softened their auras. He placed a hand on the youngster’s shoulder.

  “Surely you’ve been in this room before? I’ve heard that you’ve explored the castle very thoroughly.”

  “Not this room.”

  “Why not?”

  Law shivered. “I don’t know.”

  “I see. But you’re not afraid of it now.”

  “No.”

  “Law, open your eyes.”

  Law frowned. “I’ve never...”

  “Now is the time. The laws you carry in your head belong here, in the Staff of Law. Release them, and the world will be saved.”

  “The Staff of Law,” Law murmured. “It was lost. They all were. I tried to see their images, but nothing came to my call, only a howling emptiness that wept with sorrow.”

  “Yes, the Staff of Law was broken, the laws flung to the four winds, and the Staffs of Life and Death joined. I thought the laws were lost forever, and the world doomed to destruction, but you can put them back.”

  “All the horrors...” Law muttered.

  “Because there are no laws.”

  “And if I put them back...”

  “Order will be restored,” Chanter finished for him.

  “And tens of thousands will die.”

  “You do the will of the gods. Their deaths will not be your doing. Your reward will be your sight.”

  Law considered. “I can’t do this alone, Father. I’ve never been able to open my eyes.”

  Chanter nodded and transferred his hand to Law’s forehead. “I will help you.”

  Law gripped the foot of the staff, and Chanter closed his eyes. A faint frown tugged at his brows, then he opened them, and at the same instant, Law’s eyes flew open. A moment passed, and then Talsy gasped as golden fire flowed from Law’s eyes in a brilliant stream, running up the staff in a swirling mantle of flame. It reached the topmost line of writing and sank into it, filling the carved letters with bright fire. The second line filled, then the third, faster and faster as the thousands of lines flooded with gold. By the time the lines halfway down the staff had filled, the topmost line had become dark once more. She bit her lip, wondering if this was going to work, or whether it was yet another false hope that would come to nothing. The fire continued to pour from Law’s eyes, and he gasped as he clung to the staff, his face a rictus of pain. Chanter stared blankly into space, his hand pressed to Law’s brow.

  The last glimmer of golden light fled Law’s eyes, and he jerked back as if released from an invisible force, closed his eyes and grimaced. Chanter helped him to sit back on his haunches, and he pawed at his face as if burnt. The golden fire sheathed the lower portion of the staff, flowed into the lines of writing and vanished.

  Law forced himself to relax. His mind was numb, empty without the golden words that had dwelt there all his life. It seemed a dark and hollow place, crying out for light. He opened his eyes a slit, and light flooded in, bringing startling images the likes of which he had never imagined. Grey walls, red curtains, and the golden face of his father Mujar. He looked around at the dusty silver, flickering candles, and smiling faces of a flaxen-haired woman and a dark-eyed man.

  “All my life I have lived in darkness, guided by the Powers alone,” he murmured. “To see the world is a wondrous gift.”

  “Indeed,” Chanter agreed, “and now it’s yours.”

  Law grinned, delighted with his newfound sense. He gazed around the room and out at the brown clouds that scudded across the sky. Chanter rose to his feet as Law examined his hands, holding them up to the light, and then went to the window to gaze across the valley. When he turned from the view of sweeping green fields and snow-capped peaks a minute later, Talsy studied the staff with what he surmised was a worried expression.

  She gestured at it. “It’s gone.”

  “No, it’s still there,” Chanter said, “but it will take some time for the staff to regain its power. What Law carried in his head was just a tiny fraction of the staff’s original fire, enough to contain the laws, nothing more. When the staff was broken, its fire dispersed across the world, and we have put back a seed that will grow in time to its former strength. Patience is all we need now.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know. A week, a month, does it matter?”

  She smiled. “No. We did it!”

  “Yes, we did. You and Law, actually. You restored the staff, he carried the laws, you rescued him and brought him here, and he put them back. The rest of us only helped.”

  “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Perhaps not, nor without Kieran or the Aggapae. Everyone did their part. But it was your faith that put it all into motion.”

  “How will we know when the staff has regained its power?” she asked.

  “When it rises up.”

  Chapter Ten
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  Law revelled in his new sense, discovered the joy of flight and roamed the valley on long wings. He became popular with the people of the valley, whom his joyful ebullience and youthful zest for life entranced. His joy bubbled from him like a font of delight, infecting those around him with laughter and happiness. He discovered a love to dance, and often indulged in long leaping frolics across the meadows, at times joined by the horses. His unusual energy made Chanter smile and shake his head at his antics. At times the older Mujar would become a little impatient with him when he bounced into the castle as if he had springs on his feet, but no one could deny him his happiness, nor disregard his extraordinary grace.

  Chanter taught Travain how to control his tallana, showed him a little of the warmth and affection he craved, and filled many of the gaps in his knowledge. Travain could understand Mujar speech, but not speak it, could control his tallana, but not sense it, change his shape, but only to what he had seen. He seemed to have half of everything bestowed upon Mujar, and, under Chanter’s tutelage, learnt to control two Powers at once, but no more. His sullenness diminished, and he grew into be a more likable person, showed respect and consideration for others and helped freely when asked.

  For a month, the Staff of Law remained dull on its velvet bed. Talsy checked on it every day, willing it to return to its former power. After a month and a day, the staff began to rise. At first it was just a few inches, but each day it rose a little more. When the head of the staff was halfway between its bed and the roof, Travain brought a blushing Aggapae girl to the castle and announced his intention to marry her. Talsy warned them to wait until after the restoration of the laws. No change had occurred in the chaos outside, so they knew that the staff had not started to order the world again yet. Travain reluctantly agreed, since that day was not far off now.

  Law told them that his true name was Dancer, revealed to him now that the golden fire was gone from his head. Chanter seemed well pleased, mysteriously referring to ‘the three’. When Talsy questioned him, he explained that there were only three Mujar names, Dancer, Drummer and Chanter. All Mujar bore these names, and, at the end of the testing, they would fulfil their purpose and destroy the Hashon Jahar.

  Two months after the restoration of its fire, the Staff of Law swung upright, its foot leaving the ground. They gathered around to admire it, the lines of writing now filled with golden fire.

  “Will the laws be restored to the world now?” Talsy asked, gazing up at it.

  Chanter addressed the staff for the first time. “Staff of Law, when will order be restored?”

  Fiery words scored the air with hissing power in the presence of two Mujar. “Only when the one who speaks the law wields me.”

  Talsy translated the staff’s writing for the benefit of those who did not understand it, then frowned at Chanter. “What does it mean?”

  “The only one who can speak the laws is Dancer. He must wield the staff.”

  The young Mujar shook his head. “But I don’t know what to do.”

  “The staff will teach you,” Chanter stated.

  Dancer sighed. “I thought I had done my part.”

  “Just one more task.”

  “And make it quick,” Travain urged. “Then Danya and I can get hitched.”

  “Hitched?” Dancer enquired.

  “Married.”

  “Ah, that strange Lowman tradition.”

  “Well at least I don’t have to go and find some big smelly flower.” Travain chuckled.

  Dancer and Chanter looked at each other, and Chanter smiled. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  “You don’t know what I’ve got,” Travain said. “Trueman love is something Mujar should have too. It’s you guys who’re missing out.”

  Chanter glanced at Talsy. “Yes, perhaps you’re right. We have our own kind of love, strange to you, but we can only guess at Trueman emotions.”

  She turned away, gazing up at the staff. The light-hearted banter died, and Travain looked chagrined by his thoughtlessness. “So when do we do it?”

  “Whenever Dancer is ready.”

  “What do I have to do?” Dancer asked.

  “Staff?” Chanter redirected the question.

  The golden fire wrote, “Each law must be spoken in its god words, then again in a language of your choice. As each law is intoned, so must my foot touch the ground. The laws must be spoken in their rightful order, beginning with the first law, and ending with the last. Once started, the recitation of the laws must not end until the final one is spoken. As each law is spoken, that order will be restored.”

  “What about the laws within your broken areas?”

  “These exist like all the others. The breaking of the stone that binds them does not annul their power.”

  “But how will Dancer read them?” Chanter enquired.

  “I will write each law as it must be spoken.”

  “And what form must you be in?”

  “My present form is the one of power.”

  Chanter turned to Dancer. “You should rest and indulge before you start, the reading of so many laws will take several days. The chosen will want to bear witness.” He glanced at Talsy, who nodded, and went on, “I shall prepare a room for the ceremony and take the staff to it. When you’re ready, we’ll begin.”

  The young Mujar glanced at the staff, his expression a mixture of awe and fear. “It seems odd that I should be the one. After all, you’re the chanter, Father.”

  “I cannot speak the laws, only you understand them. This is the instruction of the staff.”

  “I know, but I’m young,” Dancer said.

  “I’ll be there beside you, never fear.”

  Dancer nodded, then left, presumably to find a quiet spot for his preparations. Talsy took Chanter’s arm when he would have followed, drawing him aside.

  “Walk with me in the garden, I have questions for you.”

  Chanter gave an exaggerated groan of despair. “Not more!”

  Talsy led him to the secluded garden, a warm, sunny place between the castle’s tall grey walls and the mountain’s green slopes. A cool breeze circulated the air, one of the many wind spirits who dwelt within the valley and stirred its warm ethers. She settled on the bench in the dappled shade of the young peach tree, patting the stone beside her. Chanter sat with a sigh, closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun.

  “Why is Law nervous about wielding the staff?” she asked.

  “Because he’s young, he lacks confidence. The staff has much power of its own, but when it’s wielded, it will draw from him too.”

  “Will that tire him?”

  “No, not tire, but maybe weaken. He must open himself to the two Powers of the staff, Dolana and Crayash. The fire is no problem, but Earthpower, as you know, weakens Mujar if they use it for too long or in too great quantities. He’ll have to be careful; the staff’s Dolana is very strong.”

  She gazed at him. “Why did Law call you ‘the chanter’?”

  “Because that’s what I am. Law is the dancer, Travain the drummer, and I am the chanter. I have told you that at the end there will be three, and that all Mujar bear these names. They are not only names, but also define our purpose at the end of the testing. Travain is the drum bearer, who will mark the time and cadence, Law will perform the sacred steps of the dance of destruction. I will intone the god words that end the testing and destroy the Hashon Jahar.” He opened his eyes a slit and winked at her. “You’ll be there to see it.”

  “Then what will happen?”

  He shrugged, closing his eyes again. “Then the chosen will be free to return to their homes and take up their lives, obeying the laws of this land, and not their own. This is our gods’ way of adopting you. After the testing, all those who remain will live in harmony with this world.”

  “And their offspring?”

  “Them too.”

  Talsy mulled this over, then plucked up the courage to ask the question that was really bothering her. “What
will happen to Travain?”

  Chanter opened his eyes to gaze across the garden. “Travain will live.”

  “How can he? He’s a crossbreed.”

  “He’s half Mujar. The staff does not have the power to kill him.”

  “But Law called him an abomination, the worst crossbreed of all.”

  “He’ll be changed,” Chanter admitted reluctantly.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. He’ll survive, but he won’t be the same, that’s all I know.”

  “The staff would know, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “Ask it if you wish, but knowing his fate won’t change it. Do you really need to know before it happens? And if so, why? Would you tell him?”

  “No.” She contemplated the castle’s tall turrets with their long streamers of winding, wind-whipped blue silk. “But his birth wasn’t a mistake, I know that now. You three are the only Mujar left, and you’re needed for the end of the testing. If Travain hadn’t been born, there would be no drummer.”

  “Yes.” He took her hand, caressing it. “You made no mistakes. You were guided by the gods. I should have granted your Wish and given you a child willingly, instead I clung to the old laws, not realising that things had changed, and all this was happening for a reason. But I did fear for your life, my little clan. You could have lost it when he was born.”

  “But I didn’t. Law is your son too, I’m sure of it. If you remember the time you went to the flower, he was born eighteen months later.”

  “Too soon.” Chanter shook his head. “Mujar remain in the pod for two years.”

  “I think he was born early, because of the chaos. He’s small and pale, and even his eyes are a lighter shade than yours. But he looks so like you, a younger version.”

  Chanter smiled. “All Mujar look alike.”

  “I know, but he could be, couldn’t he?”

  “He could.”

  “And Travain.” She grimaced. “So very different. He looks like my father, and maybe the mother I never knew. Just think, you and your two sons are the only Mujar left. It’s you who saved Truemen.”