Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law (19 page)

“
Is the Mujar all right?” she asked.

“
He’s fine,” Shan assured her, pressing her down when she would
have risen to see for herself. “You rest; I’ll take care of
him.”

“
Where’s Chanter? He should be here to heal the
wounded.”

Shan glanced
around at the injured Aggapae who rested on the ground, Thorn
standing on three legs nearby. “He’ll be along. He’s helping the
others, they’re in more danger.”

Talsy slumped
back, too weak to protest. Shan moved away to pull the strange
Mujar from the horse. Dozens of small spikes protruded from his
skin, and his limbs flopped with unnatural suppleness that told her
his bones were broken.

“
Pull those things out,” she instructed, “and find some water
to heal him.”

Shan shot her
an amused glance, and the spikes left bleeding wounds when he
plucked them out. Talsy studied the strange unman, who looked young
and frail, his delicate features similar to Chanter’s, yet
different. He appeared to be little more than a youth, his shorn
head and smooth skin adding to his air of vulnerability. When Shan
finished removing the spikes, he found a water skin and poured
water over the Mujar’s wounds. The youngster arched in healing
spasms, and a soft groan escaped his blood-caked lips as the holes
in his flesh closed. When the convulsions subsided, Shan dribbled
water into the Mujar’s mouth, and he coughed when he swallowed
it.

Again he
thrashed while his bones knitted, making Shan move away to watch
him with worried eyes. When the seizures grew less violent, he
poured more water over him. The young Mujar was so badly injured
that it took several minutes before his convulsions diminished to
mere shivers. Talsy bit her lip, relieved when he lay still. He
remained motionless and apparently unconscious, however. Shan
squatted and ran his hands over the Mujar’s limbs, frowning.

“
His flesh is cold, and his arms feel hard,” he
commented.

“
Get him off the ground,” Talsy said, berating herself for
forgetting about the Dolana again.

Enlisting the
uninjured Aggapae’s help, Shan had several dead branches dragged
together and covered with soft bracken. The Mujar was lifted onto
this, and they all waited for him to recover. After several minutes
of fruitless anticipation, she shook her head in bewilderment.

“
We’ll have to ask Chanter when he comes. I don’t know what’s
wrong with him.”

More than an
hour passed before a shadow swooped down, and Chanter landed in the
clearing, folding his wings before transforming in a rush of wind.
He approached Talsy, taking the water skin from Shan on the way.
Kneeling beside her, he laid his hands on her shoulder and pulled
the arrow out with a swift jerk, which, to her surprise, did not
hurt at all. He poured water over the wound and healed it,
engulfing them in the soft mists of Shissar.

“
Where are the others?” she asked when he sat back.

“
On their way here. Don’t worry, Kieran’s fine.”

Relief washed
over her in a welcome wave, and she glanced at the strange Mujar.
“There’s something wrong with him, he isn’t well.”

Chanter turned
to study the youngster. “He’s been too long in the grip of
Dolana.”

“
Will he get better?”

“
He needs the sea to recover quickly, but it’s too tainted now.
The lake in the valley will heal him.”

She frowned.
“You mean he’s going to stay like that -”

“
Until we reach the valley, yes.”

Talsy sighed
as he rose and went to tend to the injured, Shan following with
more water skins. When he had healed all of them, golden rays
slanted through the trees. Talsy was frantic with worry by the time
the rest of the Aggapae rode into the glade, ragged, bleeding and
drooping with weariness. Kieran approached and settled beside her
with a sigh, gulping from a water skin. His dented armour and
slashed leather tunic bore fresh bloodstains, but either Chanter
had already healed him, or he had used the Starsword. His hair
clung wetly to his scalp and smudges of soot patterned his face,
but he smiled at her, glancing over at the new Mujar.

“
How is he?”

“
Chanter says he’s been too long on the tar. He won’t recover
until we get back to the valley and put him in the
lake.”

Kieran looked
disappointed. “That’s too bad; we could have used his help on the
journey back.”

Talsy smiled.
“I doubt that he would help us. He’s not Chanter, remember.”

“
He owes us.”

“
Yes.”

“
Why doesn’t Chanter heal him?”

“
I don’t know. Chanter hasn’t been near him. Perhaps they can’t
heal each other.”

Kieran sipped
water with a grimace. “From what I’ve heard, Mujar prefer to live
apart from each other. Even when they congregated in cities, they
rarely stayed together.”

“
I think we’ll learn much from seeing these two
together.”

He chuckled.
“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“
How many did we lose?”

“
Too many.” His face fell into grim lines. “Over a hundred, I
think. It wasn’t the kind of fighting that suited them, boxed up in
that city. They’re plains people; they fight best at a gallop.
Those bastards will feast on the horses that fell, damn
them.”

“
It was a bad plan,” she said. “It’s my fault so many
died.”

“
No, it almost worked, so don’t blame yourself. If they hadn’t
seen the mark on the Mujar’s scalp, we’d have been
okay.”

She shook her
head. “Jesher’s plan was better. Fewer would have died, maybe
none.”

“
Jesher’s plan could have failed too easily. It was riskier
than yours. If there was a better plan, I’d have thought of
it.”

She smiled.
“Pompous arse.”

Kieran took a
swig from the water skin and pulled a face. “Didn’t we bring any
wine?” He spotted Jesher and jumped up. “Hey, Jesher, you old goat,
I know you brought some decent brew!”

The Prince
grabbed the startled Aggapae and muttered earnestly to him as he
hustled him towards the pack horses. Fourteen of the beasts had
stayed in the forest, preserving their supplies for the return
trip. The six they had taken to the city were lost, along with
their precious burdens. Talsy gazed at the unmoving Mujar, and then
went over to settle beside him. Using a damp cloth, she wiped away
the dried blood and dirt to reveal his flawless golden skin and
almost feminine features. Working her way down him, she found his
arms cold and hard, his fingers so stiff they would not bend.

Law dreamt
that he lay on a soft bed in the shimmering blue of his forest. A
Lowman woman bathed him with a cool cloth, birdsong soothed his
burning senses and gentle breezes caressed his skin. He dreamt that
the terrible drain of sickly Dolana was gone, and the wounds in his
chest and hands had been healed by the blessed touch of Shissar. He
could almost taste its cleanliness on his tongue, and savoured the
cessation of pain. Not wanting to wake from this sweet bliss, he
pushed himself deeper into sleep. The dream faded, and he allowed
himself to drift upwards again into the world of soft sounds and
gentle hands.

Chapter Eight

That night,
when the campfires had been lighted to cook supper, Talsy found
Chanter sitting against a tree munching berries. She settled beside
him, accepting a handful.

“
Tell me about the new Mujar,” she said. “He’s young, isn’t
he?”

“
Very. Six, maybe seven years, one of the last to be born
before the chaos.”

“
What’s he going through now? He seems to be
asleep.”

“
He has sought refuge in the dark realms of sleep to escape the
Dolana. He’s not suffering. He should be aware of what’s happening
to him, but he’s withdrawn from the cruelties inflicted upon
him.”

Talsy popped a
berry into her mouth. “Why is his flesh still cold, even now that
he’s free from the Dolana? And his fingers seem hard.”

“
Mmm.” Chanter frowned. “It’s the sickness of the world, the
taint in the Dolana that has invaded him. It sickens me when I use
it now, and he’s been lying on dried earth blood for over a month.
In its corrupted form, Dolana has grown more powerful, and, in some
cases, developed a kind of life of its own, like the living rock
that’s sprouting all over the world. This makes it difficult and
dangerous to wield. He’s been filled with it for so long that it’s
started to turn his flesh to stone.”

“
Stone!”

“
Yes. But he’ll recover in the lake.”

Talsy ate
another berry, hardly noticing its tart flavour. “That means... all
the Mujar in the Pits...”

“
Have been turned to stone.”

“
Then... there’s no hope for them?”

“
Hope?” He looked at her curiously. “There never was any hope
for them, not from the moment they were flung in.”

“
But... I thought, when the staff was restored...”

“
That they’d all come crawling out?” He sighed and shook his
head. “No, my little clan, there’s no escape from the Pits except
death.”

Talsy pondered
this for a while, toying with the berries in her palm. “Can’t you
heal him?”

“
No. Mujar don’t heal each other, we have no need to. He’s
quite able to heal himself, with the help of water.”

“
You won’t even go near him. Kieran says that Mujar don’t like
to be close together.”

Chanter
nodded. “We don’t.”

“
Why?”

He smiled.
“You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

“
And you’re not going to answer that one.” She sighed, knowing
him well enough by now to know when he was being evasive, and the
futility of pressing the issue. “That’s why you never went close to
Travain, never held him, even when he was a baby.”

“
Yes.”

Talsy was
struck by a memory. “And when you held him down, that time, you had
red marks on your arms. Does it have something to do with
that?”

“
Something,” he agreed, shooting her an amused
glance.

“
Why won’t you tell me? Why’s it such a big secret?”

“
It’s not a big secret; it’s just that you wouldn’t understand.
I can’t explain it to you, I don’t have the words, but when our
young friend recovers, I can show you.”

“
You couldn’t show me with Travain?” she asked.

“
No, he’s not a true Mujar.”

“
But he has all the powers.”

“
He does, yet he doesn’t,” Chanter said. “He’s not as powerful
as I am, and never will be. His command of the elements is tenuous
at best; his will is Trueman, and not strong enough to wield true
power. He can certainly do a lot of damage, and kill, but his
powers are weak compared to mine. Why do you think he refused to
come on this venture? Why do you suppose he’s never left the
valley? He’s afraid.

“
Not of death, for he can’t be killed, but of suffering,
humiliation and defeat. He has Trueman pride, and his ego was badly
bruised when I forced him to give his name. When he first
discovered his powers, he thought himself omnipotent, but I showed
him that he wasn’t. He held Crayash, and I chose to wield Dolana,
for that’s the only Power that can harm Mujar. He soon realised his
mistake, but by then it was too late. I suspect that your son can
only wield two Powers at once, not three, and never
four.”

“
Why?” she enquired, fascinated. Rarely was Chanter so
loquacious, and she lapped up the information.

“
He doesn’t have the willpower. His will is Trueman, with all
its distractions and petty thoughts. He’s shallow. Mujar have a
deep wellspring of calm within us, like a bottomless black lake,
here.”

He tapped his
chest. “This is why we can sit and stare into space all day, as you
put it. That calm is our will, the centre of our being, and within
that black lake we can build the power to wield the elements and
hold them in our thrall. Without it, the Powers would twist and
fritter away, slip from our grasp, especially Dolana. It’s that
same pool of quiet that holds our rage in check, prevents it from
taking over and driving us mad with hate. Travain doesn’t have that
calm, but I think he’s inherited some of the rage. I’m afraid the
hatred in him is Mujar, and it’s twisted him badly, made him hate
all of us.”

“
Then it’s not his fault? It’s not just because he’s a nasty
person?”

Chanter shook
his head, popping more berries into his mouth. “No. Travain is
burdened with a hatred that he doesn’t understand, for his mind is
Trueman and his hate is Mujar.”

“
Couldn’t you explain it to him? Where does this hatred come
from, anyway?”

He smiled. “It
comes from the gods.”

“
The gods! They hate us?”

“
Only those who torture their children and defile their world.
I’ve only felt the rage when at the mercy of Truemen torturers,
never towards you.” He patted her knee. “Don’t worry.”

“
But Travain...”

“
Travain doesn’t understand it, as I said, and he has nowhere
to put it aside, as we do. It simmers within him all the time,
preying on his mind. Explaining why he has it would only make him
hate me more for giving it to him, and explaining why he can’t deal
with it would make him hate you.”