Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law (20 page)

Talsy sighed
and leant back against the tree, her appetite gone. “It really was
a mistake, wasn’t it?”

“
Yes. You didn’t understand what you were doing. You only
wanted a baby to love, and I understand that. But our two races
were never meant to breed. We’re much too different. Truemen are
fickle, adventuresome, sometimes foolhardy, and mortal. They worry
about their death and what will come after it. They strive to live
a full life in the time they have, never knowing if it will be cut
short. Mujar, on the other hand, have no doubts about their
purpose, we know why we’re here, we know how long we’ve got, and we
know where we’ll go when we die. Travain has your doubts and
worries, but my powers and immortality. He’s truly
lost.”

“
Poor Travain,” Talsy murmured, then grabbed Chanter as he
started to rise. “What does the broken mark mean? You never told
me.”

“
It is the antithesis of Life. It means Death, and, as we all
know now, he can kill, and he enjoys it. Only his Mujar name holds
him in check, and he hates that, too.” He rose and pulled her up.
“Enough now, let’s go and eat.”

Talsy filed
away the rest of her questions for the future, hoping she would not
forget them, and followed Chanter to a campfire where a cooked meal
waited, her mind whirling.

When Jesher
would have ordered men to stand watch, Chanter assured him that the
Kuran and Dargon would guard them through the night, allowing the
men to get some much needed rest. Distant screams woke Talsy once,
but she drifted back into an untroubled sleep.

For three
days, they rested and gathered food in the forest, reluctant to
leave its haven and face the dangers outside. A head count revealed
that they had lost ninety-two men and forty-six horses in the
battle. The Aggapae mourned their lost ones in silence, but bereft
horses neighed for their riders for several days. The young Mujar
lay as still as the dead, and the problem of transporting him
proved daunting. Kieran suggested that Chanter should change him
into something smaller, a bird or animal, but the Mujar rejected
the idea, claiming it to be impossible. After he stomped away into
the forest, they decided that they would have to tie the youngster
over a horse’s back, using blankets to soften it.

On the fourth
day, they set out into the chaos once more, leaving the peaceful
forest’s bastion of sanity behind. The haven would die without the
young Mujar who had created it, but the spirits let them go. They
retraced their steps past the bodies of the two huge animals whose
mighty struggle was now over, through the fields of sucking mouths,
the plains fanged with growing rock and acres of bone-strewn land.
The boiling lake was gone, leaving a hot muddy depression infested
with the mud creatures, which attacked them. The Starsword and
Chanter’s fire drove them away. The group entered the burning land
and passed through it unharmed, as before; weathered a brief
encounter with a hail storm so fierce the balls of ice could knock
a man senseless. Chanter swept it away, and they escaped with a few
bruises.

Almost two
weeks after leaving the forest, they topped a hill to find their
scout lying beside his horse at the bottom of a depression. Kieran
grabbed Talsy when she would have rushed down to them.

“
No! Something down there killed them. Stay here.”

“
We don’t know that they’re dead,” she protested.

“
They look pretty dead to me.”

Chanter
alighted nearby and took man form, staring at the distant corpses.
He signalled them to wait and strode into the valley. Talsy watched
him with a worried frown, hoping whatever had killed the scout was
not harmful to Mujar. The horse and rider lay amongst the bones and
rotting corpses of other animals, as if the entire area was
poisoned. She relaxed when Chanter returned.

“
It’s a noxious gas, seeping from the ground,” he said.
“They’re dead. We’ll have to go around; send out a new
scout.”

Before Talsy
could ask questions, he leapt into the air and took wing again. She
frowned and followed the others around the depression, annoyed at
his curtness. Sometimes he was patient and talkative, she
reflected, other times he did not wish to talk at all.

They journeyed
on for several days, encountering only a violent dust storm that
sanded a layer of skin off everyone and left them coughing for days
afterwards. Talsy fed the young Mujar a little water every day,
hoping to heal him, but he remained unresponsive. Each night they
placed him on the supply packs to keep him off the ground, and
Chanter stayed away from him. Twice creatures of the chaos attacked
them at night, and they lost three men and a horse before Chanter
and Kieran drove them away with fire. The massive monsters bit the
men’s’ heads off and dragged the horse away to eat. One day the
scout ranged too far ahead and fell through the crust into oily
sludge, vanishing beneath it before they caught up with him.

Their nerves
worn to tattered threads, they set out across a blasted plain of
blackened earth and dead, twisted trees. Two days into it, they
woke to find two horses turned to stone, slain by the wraith of
poisoned Dolana. On the third day they spotted a distant cloud of
black dust rising, heading towards them from the side. Kieran
squinted at the cloud, trying to make out what was causing it, but
it was too far away. Chanter swooped down and took man form in a
rush of wind, his eyes wild.

“
What is it?” Talsy demanded, unnerved by his
expression.

“
Torrak Jahar.”

“
Oh, no,” she muttered, turning away.

“
They’ve seen us?” Kieran asked, frowning.

“
Yes.”

“
We can’t outrun them, it’s too dangerous to gallop through the
chaos, and they never get tired.” Kieran swore. “We can’t fight
them either, we’d lose. How many are there?”

“
Several hundred.”

“
Great. What the hell are we going to do?”

“
I could try to lead them away,” the Mujar said, “but they
would be drawn by the life force of the Mujar you
carry.”

“
That’s what’s attracting them, isn’t it?”

“
Yes.”

Talsy swung
back, scowling. “And you can’t use Dolana to delay them, it’s too
tainted.”

“
It would be difficult,” Chanter agreed, “and there’s no water
for an ice wall. Condensing it from the air is too slow. Fire would
slow them, but like all the Powers, it’s unpredictable now. It may
have no heat. Using the wind might work, but they’re heavy and
strong. It would have to be a very powerful one.” He sighed.
“Still, the wind is a good weapon, though it takes a little time to
summon. First I’ll try to lead them away; that will allow you to
gain some headway.”

“
Be careful.”

He smiled
crookedly. “I will.”

Kieran scowled
as the Mujar leapt into the air and transformed, sailing away on
broad wings. “If only he’d burn the bastards.”

“
You know he can’t.” Talsy gazed at the approaching dust, which
was much closer now, the Torrak Jahar moving at a gallop. “And I’m
glad Mujar don’t kill. Imagine if they did, what havoc they could
wreak.”

“
And how much protection he could give us.”

“
And what guilt he’d have to live with.”

“
Hey,” Kieran protested, “I’ve had to kill, but I don’t feel
guilty about it. The bastards deserved to die. It was me or them.
He’d let them slaughter us rather than kill them.”

“
No, I think he’d sacrifice himself first.”

“
Well, he can’t be killed.”

She shot him a
hard look. “He can suffer. Indefinite suffering is worse than
death.”

Talsy watched
the eagle fly towards the Ghost Riders and swerve as he neared
them, leading them away. The Torrak Jahar followed the raptor that
swooped tantalisingly close, dipped its wings and flapped lazily.
It was lucky that Torrak Jahar did not use arrows, Talsy mused,
smiling a little as Chanter floated safely in the sky, leading the
Riders on a merry dance of futile pursuit. Kieran turned away to
signal to the Aggapae, and the warriors started to move off, away
from the Torrak Jahar.

Talsy
lingered, her eyes following the distant winged shape that sailed
the dull skies with consummate ease. Just as she was about to turn
away and follow the others, the eagle staggered in the air, its
wings folding, and fell, flapping weakly. Talsy’s cry of horror
made everyone turn, and her next was drowned out by the great shout
of anguish that went up from the Aggapae. Chanter’s wings spread
again, and he flapped slowly, gaining a little altitude, but the
Torrak Jahar pursued him with single-minded ferocity. The eagle
staggered again, hit by a missile invisible to the chosen who
watched with horrified eyes. The bird glided, losing altitude. The
Torrak Jahar, it seemed, had learnt to use arrows.

Talsy cried
out in anguish and kicked her mare into a gallop towards the Torrak
Jahar. Kieran’s shout was lost in the roar the Aggapae gave as they
thundered in her wake, sweeping him with them. Three hundred
warriors charged across the blackened land, raising a cloud of dust
equal to that of the Torrak Jahar. Banners and battle flags snapped
in the wind as they raced after the slim figure on the chestnut
mare, a brave, and in Kieran’s opinion, unbelievably stupid
girl.

The eagle hit
the ground in a puff of dust and transformed. Chanter leapt to his
feet and yanked the two arrows from his chest. In a flash of
tainted Dolana he vanished, and a black stallion sprang into a wild
gallop, still striving to lead the Torrak Jahar away. Chanter ran
with difficulty, blood running down his forelegs from the wounds in
his chest. The Torrak Jahar closed on him rapidly, gaining with
every stride, and the Aggapae thundered after them.

The tales she
had heard about the Torrak Jahar hammered in Talsy’s brain. They
had never been beaten in a pitched battle. In the open, they were
invincible, and their touch was death. Her terror warred with her
desperate need to reach Chanter and protect him somehow, stand
beside him when all else failed and die fighting for him. Nothing
else mattered, for her life would not be worth living if he was
taken from her.

Chanter
crumpled as his forelegs gave way, ploughing into the hard black
ground in a cloud of dust. She gave a cry of horror, lashing her
mare to greater speed. Kieran drew the Starsword and pointed it
over the outstretched neck of his galloping horse.

“
Fire!”

A Torrak Jahar
fell, its glowing form slumping into a long pool of magma. He burnt
two more in quick succession, making no dent in the numbers that
bore down on the fallen Mujar. Chanter resumed man shape as he
turned to face his worst enemies, trying to rise to his feet. Blue
fire exploded in front of the charging riders, but they leapt
through it, ignoring the fierce flames in their eagerness to reach
their prize. Chanter raised his hands defensively as they reached
him, but their steeds crashed into him, sending him sprawling on
the black dust. Some stopped beside him, the rest turned to meet
the Aggapae’s charge. The gap between them closed with horrifying
speed, now that the riders had stopped, and Talsy’s heart leapt
into her mouth as she bore down on their implacable forms,
glimpsing their glowing yellow eyes. The terror they always
inspired turned her blood to ice, and her mare swung away from the
black wall bristling with lances and swords.

The two armies
came together with a tremendous crash. Weapons clashed and horses
fell with terrible screams as they slammed into the unyielding
black steeds. Many did not rise, impaled by long lances or crippled
by broken limbs. The Aggapae fought with a fury born of desperation
and hate, but their spears snapped against their foes’ stone
armour. The Torrak Jahar vented hissing laughter as they slew the
warriors.

Talsy, at the
forefront of the charge, was flung clear by a steed’s hard
shoulder. Her mare went down in a flurry of legs, rolled over and
scrambled up again. Talsy lay gasping, too stunned to do anything
but watch the horror of the battle. Kieran wielded the Starsword in
wild, desperate swings, and many Torrak Jahar fell to its fire, but
the rest took a terrible toll on the Aggapae, pulled them from
their horses and drained their life with swift practiced moves,
their victims shrieking as they died.

Bruised and
shaken, Talsy rose and staggered towards the Mujar, not knowing
what she was going to do, only that she had to reach him. Chanter
knelt within a circle of dismounted riders who prodded him with
their swords, leaping back when he lashed out with blue fire. They
sniggered, toying with him, and blood from a dozen cuts reddened
his arms and chest. The Torrak Jahar’s yellow eyes glowed in faces
twisted with sneers of contempt and triumph as they laughed and
hissed.

“
Caught us one, didn’t we?” one grated.

“
Endless life, at our mercy,” another agreed.

“
Stupid Mujar. All that power, and he won’t kill,” a third
scoffed.

The taunting
riders held Chanter’s attention utterly. His eyes darted from one
to another to find where the next threat would come from, so he
could counter it with fire. His stand was hopeless, and he
obviously knew it, but, since he was too injured to fly, all he
could do was delay the inevitable for as long as possible. He did
not seem to have noticed Talsy’s arrival, for the battle’s clamour
and his captors’ jibes drowned out her soft approach.