Broken World Book Two - StarSword Page 13

  Roth studied the sword. "It appears quite new, but it won't budge." He banged it on the table and tried again. "No, it's jammed solid, or rusted."

  "Yet he appeared ready to use it when I first met him, and again when I told him that I had drugged him. His hand never strayed far from its hilt."

  Captain Roth eyed the advisor. "I hope our newfound Prince isn't unskilled with a blade. If he can't challenge Tyrander to a duel, you know what that means."

  "Civil war," Ardel breathed, slumping.

  Roth turned to one of the waiting lieutenants and handed him the sword. "Take this to the armourer and tell him to free it, meantime, find the best blade we have." He looked at Ardel. "How long before he wakes up?"

  The advisor shrugged. "A couple of hours at least, but he didn't drink much of the wine."

  "Then we must pray that Prince Kieran knows how to use a sword."

  Talsy sipped her tea and eyed the man who sat opposite. Prince Tyrander seemed to enjoy her discomfiture, and took immense pleasure in taunting her about what would happen when Chanter came for her. She strived to hide her anger at his goading and his comments about Mujar cowardice that made her long to fling the hot tea in his face. She was not about to explain the true nature of Mujar, as she understood it. When he paused to think of the next scathing comment, she injected an innocent question.

  "Where is this Staff of Law you claim to have?"

  "Oh, I have it, never fear." He smiled.

  "Yet I have only your word on that."

  "It created all of this. How can you doubt its existence?"

  "I don't, but I doubt that you possess such a powerful object."

  "I have it," he snapped, clearly put out.

  "May I see it?"

  Tyrander hesitated, scowling, then vanity triumphed, and he reached for the gold chain around his neck. Pulling it from the front of his embroidered jacket, he held up a golden cage in which a brown pebble lay. Talsy leant forward to peer at it. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the Staff of Law. Its appearance fitted with the oddly understated nature of this world. Had he shown her a jewelled golden rod or diamond-studded pole she would not have believed him. To rile him, she feigned disbelief.

  "That? You've been fooled, that's just a pebble."

  "Stupid girl," he growled. "This is the Staff of Law."

  "It isn't a staff, not even an ordinary one. It certainly doesn't look like an object of power."

  "Well it is." He started to put it away.

  "Prove it," Talsy challenged.

  Tyrander paused, considering the caged stone. A smile curved his thin, sensuous lips, and his black eyes glinted. "Why not?" Holding the stone before him, he addressed it. "Staff of Law, where is the Mujar now?"

  Golden fire formed strange runic writing in the air before the Prince, reminding her of Chanter playing with fire. At first she could not read it, then a burning pain in her brow made her raise a hand to it in surprise. The Mujar mark glowed bright blue, illuminating her palm briefly, then the pain vanished. When she looked again at the strange writing, she could read it.

  The Mujar is moving away, the runes said.

  Tyrander scowled. "It says that your Mujar is on his way here to do my bidding in return for your life."

  "No it doesn't," she retorted. "It says that he's moving away."

  The Prince looked dumbstruck. "How can you read it? No one can understand the staff but me."

  Talsy shrugged. "I just can."

  He leapt up. "It's that damned Mujar mark, isn't it? That's why you can summon the souls to aid you, and you can understand the Staff of Law as well." He leant closer. "That's why you wanted to see it, wasn't it? To test your powers! Well, don't try any tricks like that again, or you'll be sorry." He fingered the hilt of a jewelled dagger at his belt. "I'll cut that mark right out of your hide."

  Talsy recoiled from his venom, and he straightened to tuck the stone back into the front of his jacket.

  "You'd better hope your precious Mujar comes for you, girl, or you will die a very painful death, that I promise. I won't leave you for the Hashon Jahar."

  Spinning on his heel, he marched out, slamming the door. Talsy took a gulp of cold tea, her nerves jangling. Her senses warned her that Prince Tyrander teetered on the brink of insanity.

  A guard hurried into the room where Kieran slept and whispered to Captain Roth. As soon as the soldier left, Roth turned to Ardel.

  "Prince Tyrander has left the girl's room, apparently in a rage."

  Ardel shook his head. "He won't come here. He's never entered my private chambers."

  "Let's hope not. If he finds his brother now, he will kill him while he sleeps."

  "We'll protect him."

  "As much as we're able." Roth glanced at the sleeping Prince. "I almost wish he would wake. This waiting is eating my nerves."

  "He's been asleep for a couple of hours already, but he needs more. Perhaps I should go and see if I can soothe Tyrander."

  Roth nodded. "That might be an idea. Find out why he's so angry, without getting your head chopped off, if you can."

  Ardel hurried out, and Roth settled down on an upholstered couch by the window. His nerves grew raw, and after a while he fidgeted, then paced the room. Kieran occasionally turned and stretched, making Roth burn with anticipation, only to slump as the Prince resumed his slumber. The advisor returned three hours later, according to the sundial outside the window, and the two moved away from the bed to talk in hushed tones.

  "It seems the girl angered him. She can understand the staff," Ardel whispered.

  "How did you calm him?"

  "With difficulty. I pointed out that once the Mujar is in his control, he'll be all powerful, and her petty powers will be meaningless."

  Roth grunted. "That should soothe his bloated ego."

  "For a while. The child seems unaware that she is playing with fire. Tyrander is a most unpredictable man."

  "She doesn't know him."

  Ardel sighed, glancing at the bed. "She's in great danger. He won't kill her, but he longs to torture her. Has Kieran shown any sign of wakening?"

  "No. He sleeps like the dead."

  "It's exhaustion that holds him now. He must rest until he is recovered."

  Roth snorted. "He seems intent on doing just that."

  "Good."

  They turned as a lieutenant came in, and Roth beckoned the young, fair-haired man over to join their hushed conversation.

  "Captain, the armourer cannot free the Prince's blade. He has tried every way he knows, and is baffled. He sends this one, the best he has."

  Roth took the proffered sword, which was a finely made weapon, strong and true, honed to a fine edge and well balanced.

  "It will do. It's better than mine, and hopefully a match for Tyrander's."

  A servant entered with Kieran's clean clothes and newly polished armour, and tiptoed across the room to join the huddle, bowing to the advisor.

  "My lord Ardel, the guards bade me tell you Tyrander is returning to the girl's room, and he’s angry."

  Ardel paled, glancing at Roth, who nodded. "You'd better go and see if you can head him off."

  Tyrander stormed into Talsy's room, making her jump when he slammed the door. He glared at her as he stalked over to where she sat on the window seat's dull, brocaded cushions. She met his cold eyes with a mixture of trepidation and defiance.

  "Why isn't he coming?" he demanded. "The staff tells me that he is moving further away, gathering his chosen. Why doesn't he care about you?"

  "I don't know." She kept her voice steady somehow.

  "You do know, I'm sure of that, and you'll tell me." The Prince gripped the front of her jacket and hauled her to her feet, towering over her. With a metallic snick, he drew a jewelled dagger from his belt and held it before her flinching eyes. "What tricks do you have up your sleeve now? Tell me why he isn't coming, or you die." He pressed the dagger against her neck, nicked her skin and drew a drop of blood.

 
; Talsy read her death in his eyes. "Why don't you ask the staff?"

  Tyrander's mouth twisted. "I have. It says that you're in no danger, but you are. Must he wait until the Hashon Jahar are on the doorstep before he comes? I want him here now!"

  "I wouldn't be in such a hurry if I was you. When he does come, it won't be to save you."

  "He'll have no choice, stupid girl. If he wishes to save you, he'll have to protect my castle."

  "No he won't." She tried to shake her head, but flinched when Tyrander jabbed the point of the weapon deeper into her skin.

  "Don't argue with me!"

  "Ask the staff!"

  "I don't have to. It will work. I know Mujar. He cannot allow the First Chosen to die!" The dagger cut deeper, and she smelt stale wine on his breath as he leant closer to snarl, "He must save me, or Truemankind will die with me."

  "He's Mujar. Do you think he cares about Truemen? Mujar call us Lowmen. They scorn us as unworthy savages, doomed by our deeds!"

  "He has saved you before and he'll do it again; your lies don't fool me." He pressed the dagger against her cheek. "Perhaps I should cut you up into little pieces, starting with an ear, or nose?"

  Talsy yelped as the blade sliced into her cheek and punched the side of his head, making him stagger and curse. She tried to wriggle free, but he sent her sprawling with a back-handed blow. He came after her, a mad glint in his eyes, the weapon poised to strike.

  Chanter froze, raising his head like a wild animal sensing danger, his attention diverted from the melting ice wall. Within it, the chosen from the ship awaited release, some climbing over the waist-high wall to join the new chosen who made camp outside.

  The Mujar wandered away, frowning, and Shern watched him with growing concern. As the melted ice wall drained into the ground, an old woman marched through the mud towards Chanter, and Shern stepped into her path.

  "Leave him be. Something's wrong."

  The woman eyed him. "I'm Sheera, seeress of these people, and I need to speak to him."

  "Why?"

  "I don't see the girl, Talsy, amongst you, or the warrior, Kieran."

  Shern nodded. "She was kidnapped, and the warrior went after her."

  "When? By whom?"

  "Two days ago, but by whom I don't know, nor does he, I suspect."

  Sheera looked at the pensive Mujar. "Nothing must happen to Talsy."

  "I know." Shern took her arm and led her towards the fire the chosen had built. "I'm sure he won't let any harm come to her."

  Chanter listened to the pounding of Dolana's warning, gauging its urgency. Talsy was in danger. Where was Kieran? Why had he not reached her yet? Or was the danger she faced brought about by his attempted rescue? There was no way of knowing, nor could he leave his charges to find out. The danger did not appear to be dire, for Dolana's drumming was not strong. With a flick of his mind, he sent a command to the Starsword.

  Deep in the armoury of Tyrander's castle, the Starsword lighted, shining within its scabbard. The huge man who sweated over the forge's glowing coals did not notice the muted light, but continued to hammer at a red-hot strip of metal. The Starsword, flung into a dusty corner, burnt only briefly, then its fire died.

  Kieran gasped and sat bolt upright, his mind fuddled with sleep, as a lance of pain stabbed through his head. His eyes swept the strange room and came to rest on the armoured man who turned from the window to stare at him. Kieran reached for his sword and found himself almost naked, and unarmed. The man at the window headed towards him, and Kieran experienced a rush of panic. Frantically he looked about for a weapon, grasping at the hope that the Starsword could be summoned to answer his need.

  "Starsword!" he yelled.

  Far below, the Starsword slid from its scabbard with a soft hiss, floated free and swung point up. Like an arrow, it flew upwards, passing through the stone roof and the room above. Here it changed course slightly, angling towards the room where Kieran was, and passed through another floor.

  Kieran jumped as the Starsword burst through the centre of the bed in a cloud of feathers and stopped before him. He plucked it from the air, swung his legs off the bed, and rose to face stranger, who, after a moment of stunned immobility, fell to one knee.

  "My Prince. Don't be alarmed, we mean you no harm."

  Kieran clutched his throbbing head. "Who the hell are you? Where's Ardel? Where am I, and why do I have such a bloody headache?"

  Roth bowed his head. "Highness, you are in Ardel's quarters. He has gone to speak to Tyrander, and I am Captain Roth, at your service." He hesitated. "As to your head, I don't know, perhaps it was the sleeping draught."

  Kieran glared around at several soldiers, who bowed their heads as his eyes passed over them. "Okay, so what's going on? Why were my clothes and sword taken?"

  "Your clothes have been washed, your armour polished. Your sword... I thought it useless, for it could not be drawn from its scabbard."

  Kieran lowered the Starsword, finding no threat in the men around him. "Get up. Why was I drugged?"

  Roth stood, eyeing the strange blade. "Ardel needed time to gather men to help you, and he saw that you needed rest."

  "Ah, yes, the plot to overthrow Tyrander." Kieran's eyes narrowed in annoyance at the trickery around him and practised on him. "How long have I been asleep?"

  "Several hours, Highness."

  "Where's Talsy?" Kieran demanded.

  "With Prince Tyrander, but she is safe," he hastened to add. "Ardel is with them."

  Kieran spotted his clothes on a table and strode over to them, putting down the Starsword to pull on his trousers. A manservant tried to help, but retreated from Kieran's glare after a short tussle.

  "I can dress myself," he snapped. "Enough time has been wasted. I must find the girl."

  "I'll take you to her." Roth approached, his eyes on the sword. "May I ask what manner of blade this is?"

  "Don't stare at it," Kieran warned, "it's magical."

  Roth averted his eyes. "I'm glad you have such a sword, Highness. It will assure you victory."

  Kieran buckled on his breast plate, not objecting when a manservant ventured to help him with the fastenings. His scabbard was missing, and Roth dispatched a man to fetch it while Kieran finished donning his armour and boots. By the time he was dressed, the man had returned with his scabbard. He pushed away the servant who straightened and tidied his clothes and turned to Roth.

  "Take me to her."

  Chapter Eight

  Ardel burst into Talsy's room and stumbled to a halt in horror. Tyrander struggled with her on the floor, giggling as he feinted and stabbed at her with a dagger. She strived to hold the Prince off, but he had her pinned. Many nicks and cuts bled on her neck and arms where the blade had wounded her, and Tyrander appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. He glanced around, grinning, when Ardel entered.

  "Ah, Ardel, come to watch? At last I have found a use for the stupid slut. This will bring the Mujar running."

  Ardel paused to compose himself. "Highness, if you wish to have her tortured, we have the man for the job in the dungeons."

  "Why?" Tyrander laughed. "I'm enjoying this."

  Talsy took advantage of his distraction to punch him in the face, and he recoiled with a curse. He slapped her, jerking her head to the side, and ruefully rubbed his cheek.

  "Sire," Ardel ventured. "You don't know your own strength. You could kill her inadvertently."

  Tyrander glanced around again, this time in annoyance. "Ardel, go and plague someone else with your useless advice."

  Talsy blinked away tears of pain and punched the Prince in the solar plexus, expelling the air from his lungs in a coughing grunt. He turned back to her with a growl of rage and lifted the dagger high. Ardel sprang forward and grasped the Prince's arm, stemming his down stroke with a white-knuckled grip. They grunted and struggled, the bony advisor proving to be remarkably strong. Tyrander roared with fury and jumped up, releasing Talsy. Ardel fell to his knees.

  "Forgive me
, Highness, but if you kill her, we are all doomed!"

  Tyrander paused, breathing heavily. He glanced at Talsy, who retreated and curled up, then kicked the cringing advisor, sending him sprawling with a grunt. "I tire of this amusement. Send her to the torturer. And if you ever touch me again, Ardel, I'll have your head on a plate."

  Ardel nodded, clutching his gut. "Yes, Highness."

  The advisor rose to his feet and hurried to the door, where he bellowed into the corridor for guards to take Talsy to the dungeons. Tyrander scowled at her as the men marched her out, then turned to stare out of the window. Sheathing the dagger, he spoke over his shoulder to Ardel.

  "She must be in danger, or the Mujar won't come. Instruct the torturer to use methods that threaten her life, but naturally refrain from killing her. The water tub would be a good one, or strangling. I tire of waiting for this damned Mujar. I don't want the Hashon Jahar on my doorstep before he comes for her."

  "Yes, Sire." Ardel turned away, eager to quit the mad Prince's presence, but Tyrander raised a hand.

  "You were right to stop me. She made me so angry I might indeed have killed her. But I'm surprised at your temerity, to dare to touch me in such a manner."

  Ardel bowed. "I apologise, My Prince, I acted in haste."

  "Indeed." Tyrander picked up the cup of wine on the table. "Send the guard with the instructions, I wish to speak to you."

  When Ardel had dispatched the second guard with Tyrander's orders, he returned to sit at the table, his gut aching. Tyrander stared out of the window, sipping his wine, and Ardel waited for several minutes while the Prince contemplated the view. Draining his cup, Tyrander approached the table.

  The door burst open, and the Prince swung around in surprise as Kieran strode in. Tyrander's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Kieran stopped dead, his reaction almost identical. Roth stepped around him, followed by several soldiers. Ardel rose and sidled away from Tyrander while the princes stood frozen.