Read Broken World Book Two - StarSword for Free Online Page A

rest."
Chanter stood up. "Now we must be on our way. Time is of the
essence."
    Talsy followed
him back to the camp, where she drew Sheera aside and explained
what was to happen. The old woman gazed at Chanter as he went over
to Kieran.
    "He's leaving
us here?"
    "He must. We
have to reach the city quickly to free the chosen there. You'll be
safe. He's going to build a wall of ice, and you must all remain
within it until we return."
    "What if you
don't?" Sheera looked doubtful. "What if something happens to
him?"
    "He won't come
into the city. He'll stay outside where he's safe. If anything does
happen to Chanter, the ice wall will fall, and then you must hide
from the Black Riders as best you can. The land won't harm
you."
    The old woman
shook her head, unconvinced. "The chosen won't like it. He's our
Mujar, not the city people's. If they hadn't flung all of theirs
into the Pits, they'd have their own to protect them, wouldn't
they?"
    "He's not our
Mujar. He doesn't belong to anyone. You didn't save him, or any
other Mujar, from the Pits, so you can't object to his saving more
Truemen."
    She sighed,
forcing a feeble smile. "You're right, it's just fear talking. If
Chanter says we'll be safe, I believe him. I'll tell the others,
but don't expect them to be happy about it."
    "I won't,"
Talsy assured her.
    Sheera went to
spread the word, and arguments erupted in her wake, as people
shouted in anger and fear. Three men broke away from the group and
strode towards the Mujar. Kieran moved to intercept them, his hand
on his sword hilt. They ignored his veiled threat and pushed past.
Chanter held his ground as they approached, and as soon as he
stepped back, the air swelling with Ashmar, they stopped. The
leader, a burly potter, protested their abandonment in loud brash
tones that made Talsy's hackles rise.
    "You can't
leave us here! We need your protection, Mujar! Why bring us all
this way, then leave us to the Hashon Jahar?"
    Chanter
frowned. "I must."
    This incensed
the Truemen further. "You don't have to do anything! Leave the
bastards to rot, I say!"
    The other men
nodded, one adding, "Let them find their own Mujar!"
    Chanter shook
his head. "No."
    "You owe them
nothing. They don't deserve to be saved!"
    "I owe you
nothing, and you're not the judges of their worthiness."
    "We'll make you
stay here, if we must," the potter threatened.
    The men sidled
closer, their attitude menacing. Kieran's sword hissed from its
scabbard, which diverted the men. Kieran became the centre of
attention, and he gestured with his sword.
    "If you let
those people die, you're unworthy! Truemen have reviled Mujar for
not helping them, yet here you are, doing the exact same thing! Now
we have a Mujar who wants to save people, and you want to prevent
him! You're hypocrites! Do you really want to be the only ones
left? Twenty-two of you?"
    "If anything
happens to the Mujar, we could die!" the potter shouted.
    "Yes, and if we
hadn't found you, you'd have died on the eastern continent. You
already owe him your lives, so if he says you stay here, that's
what you do! Show some respect!"
    The men scowled
and glanced at each other, clearly unhappy, but he had reduced the
bawling outrage of the Trueman herd to grumbling resentment.
    Talsy marvelled
at how easily the chosen could come to resent a Mujar, and still
resorted to threats even when they knew this tactic was wasted on
him. Despite their grumbling, the people set about gathering
firewood and moving their tents closer to the stream that would
provide water for them during Chanter's absence. Talsy packed a bag
of supplies and warm clothes, tossing it to Kieran to carry with a
sharp glare that defied him to refuse the burden. Chanter led them
into the forest, and the chosen watched them go with doubtful,
unhappy expressions, not pleased at being left without the Mujar's
protection for any length of time. Some raised their hands in
farewell, and Talsy waved back.
    Fifty feet from
them, Chanter turned. The air