Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (11 page)

Chanter sighed
and looked at the Prince, who shrugged. "Agreed."

Talsy picked
up her bags and slung them over her shoulder, shooting a parting
glare at them. Before she had gone two paces down the road, eight
horses rounded the hut in front of her. Five of them carried riders
and four of the riders wore war paint and carried a selection of
weapons tucked into their belts and slung across their backs. Talsy
recognised Jesher, who was unpainted, Brin, and Shan aboard the
black colt. She stopped in surprise when the headman jumped down
from his grey stallion and approached Chanter.

He bowed. "I
apologise for my rudeness, Mujar. I never thought to see a cripple
of your kind. In reparation, I offer four warriors to help and
protect you on your quest. Also, these three good horses, the
mounts of fallen warriors, have agreed to carry you on your
journey."

The Mujar
shook his head. "We don't need -"

"Yes we do!"
Talsy hurried over. "We need horses. You can't provide transport
anymore. They'll speed our journey, let us finish the quest before
things get too bad."

Chanter smiled
and shrugged, turning away to sit on a nearby rock as if expecting
a long discussion. He was not disappointed, for Talsy turned to
Jesher with a determined air.

"We don't need
the warriors, thank you."

Jesher shook
his head. "You do, since you can't speak to the horses."

"Then we only
need one."

"And who'll
guard his back?"

She grunted.
"Then we only need two."

"And when will
they sleep?"

Talsy rolled
her eyes. "Chanter never sleeps."

"He only
guards you."

"When he's
around," Kieran chimed in.

Talsy shot him
a warning look, and he smiled, glancing away. "This is turning into
a three-ring circus."

"Did you want
a bit of privacy then?" Kieran asked.

"Do you want
to be left behind?"

He raised his
hands. "I'm not arguing."

Talsy turned
back to Jesher. "Only three then, not the boy, he's far too
young."

"I agree, but
the horses want him to go," the headman said.

"The horses?"
She looked disbelieving.

Jesher nodded.
"Thorn found the stone, and Shan thinks he can find more. The
horses agree, so he must go."

"The colt
then, not the boy."

Jesher spread
his hands. "The two are inseparable, I'm afraid."

Talsy tossed
Chanter a pleading look, but the Mujar leant against the hut, his
hand behind his head, apparently asleep. She sighed. "Well, if
we're going to have company, it may as well be a crowd."

Jesher beamed.
"I would come, but Nort is herd stallion and can't leave the mares.
Brin will take care of the boy."

"Good. I don't
want to wipe snotty noses and bandage scraped knees."

"He's only a
year younger than you," Kieran pointed out.

She shot him a
look that boded ill for him and turned to look at the horses.
"Which one's mine?"

"They will
decide," Jesher said. He spoke to his stallion, and the three
riderless horses approached. A big piebald went to Kieran and
sniffed him, then shoved him with its nose.

"That one's
yours," Jesher explained.

A lovely grey,
so pale that he was almost pure white, brushed past Talsy and
stopped before the Mujar, bowing his head. Chanter opened his eyes
and leant forward to stroke the animal's nose. Jesher smiled and
turned back to the last horse. The dainty bay walked up to Talsy
and butted her in the chest. She stroked him as she stared at
Chanter, surprised that he was going to ride the grey.

"I thought you
didn't like horses being ridden?"

He shook his
head. "These are not slaves, they're here of their own free
will."

When the bags
were loaded onto the horses, Talsy scrambled aboard the bay and
Kieran mounted the piebald with the ease of a born horseman. The
pale grey horse lifted a foreleg for Chanter to mount, just as the
Mujar had done for Talsy when in horse form. Jesher led the little
procession towards the wall, and the chosen gathered in the street
to watch them pass, waving and calling good wishes. Talsy waved to
Sheera, who dabbed her eyes and forced a brave smile as Shern put a
comforting arm around her shoulders. The Queen gazed at Kieran,
then turned to away with a despairing expression when he ignored
her.

Beyond the
village, the horses broke into a canter across the velvet grass.
Talsy noticed that her horse stayed close to Brin's while Kieran's
paired up with the woman warrior's. Chanter's animal moved alone,
as did Shan's and the other warrior's, Taff.

When they
reached the wall, Jesher pulled the leather bag that held the Stone
from his tunic. Chanter gestured at the wall, and the Mujar mark
flared blue. As the gate opened, Jesher turned to his son and shook
the boy's hand. He shot Brin a meaningful look, then looked at
Chanter.

"Mujar, a
question."

Chanter
inclined his head. "One."

"How do we
close the gate?"

"Don't open
it."

Jesher nodded,
looking grim, and raised his hand in farewell as the party moved
past him. Shan turned to wave before the gate closed behind them,
blocking out the sunlit valley, and his father.

Chapter Five

The riven
earth and the frozen forms of the Hashon Jahar made Talsy shiver.
Moments earlier, Chanter had called her horse forward, and they
stood at the edge of this unnatural clearing, gazing at the
strangest sight she had ever seen.

"A Hashon
Jahar birthing ground," Chanter explained.

"They're being
born?" she whispered, alarmed.

"They were.
Now they're not doing anything."

The ebon forms
were frozen in various attitudes, most in the act of climbing out
of the soil, their hind parts still sunk in the earth, their
steeds' forelegs braced to pull themselves from it. Several had
emerged, but stood immobile, their stone eyes blind. Others had
only their heads above the surface, while a few were merely lumps
beneath the earth, unborn. The torn ground bore the scars of many
birthings, the Riders gone, leaving only the craters of their
emergence behind.

"They come
from the soil?" Talsy asked.

"Far beneath
the earth, where it's hot and full of earth blood, that's where
they're conceived. Then they struggle up to the surface and emerge,
like this."

"What's
happened to them?"

"The staffs
have been broken. Their power is dwindling, soon all they will be
is statues."

"I can't say
I'll be sorry to see the last of them," Talsy muttered, and Chanter
shook his head.

"They had a
purpose, and now the unchosen will be rife."

"And when we
restore the Staff of Law?"

He smiled at
her optimism. "Then you'll restore them, too."

Talsy
shivered, and her horse followed his to where Kieran waited with
the Aggapae. For a month now, they had travelled through wild
country, finding little sign of corruption. For reasons of his own,
Chanter had opted to go first to the Whispering Sea, a long and
arduous journey. They followed a broad river, keeping to its banks
as it flowed to the sea. The Aggapae provided meat by hunting,
usually three of them going together, leaving Shan behind. The boy
made himself useful gathering firewood and tending the horses,
relieving the others of the chore.

That night,
while the Aggapae hunted, Shan collected wood and Kieran bathed in
the river, Talsy turned to Chanter.

"Why is it
that the Aggapae and the Arrad weren't swallowed by the
ground?"

"They're
simple people. They don't ravage the land and build cities, so they
haven't angered the Dargon. Also, the Dargon are most active around
the cities, but the horsemen live far out in the plains, away from
civilisation."

Talsy nodded,
twiddling a stick. "When the staff is restored, will all the
unnatural creatures that have been bred die?"

"Yes."

"So if we had
a child -"

"Stop it."

She sighed.
"Hypothetically."

"I don't know.
It would depend upon how Mujar the child was."

"Because they
can't be killed?"

"Yes."

Talsy glanced
around as Shan emerged from the forest with an armload of firewood,
frustrating her desire to ask more questions.

Two weeks
later, they came across a Trueman city on the river bank, many
boats and barges moored beside it, waiting to carry goods up and
down the spate. A tar web surrounded it, dividing cultivated fields
that farmers irrigated with river water. The party stopped within
the forest's shelter, and Chanter regarded the city with sadness
and aversion.

"We'll go
around," he announced.

"Wait." Talsy
stopped him as he turned his horse. "We need salt, flour, sugar and
tea. Things we can't hunt in the forest."

The Mujar
nodded, glancing at the Aggapae, who stared at the city with deep
dislike. "The Aggapae won't want to go into it, but you will need
protection."

She looked at
Kieran. "Kieran will come."

The Prince
raised his brows and smiled, earning himself a glare. "Sure, why
not?" he drawled. "I could use a mug of ale."

"You go near
an ale house, and I'll leave you in that stinking town," she
warned.

Kieran
chuckled, and the Mujar smiled. The Aggapae looked confused, not
knowing about the friction between them.

"You'll have
to walk," Chanter said. "The horses will stay with the
Aggapae."

She shrugged.
"It's not far, and Kieran can carry the supplies."

"Thanks," the
Prince muttered.

"We'll go
around and meet you on the far side," Chanter told her, adding,
"Try not to get into trouble."

Talsy slid off
her horse, taking empty bags to fill, and Kieran followed as she
set off towards the city. For appearances sake, they stayed on the
tar paths, hoping that no one would ask how they had reached the
city. The stout wooden gates, set in a wall of mighty tree trunks
bound together with dull metal, stood open. Two guards leant on
their spears, exhausted from a day of doing nothing but watch
people walk in and out of the city.

The town
seemed prosperous, bustling with busy farmers, housewives and
traders. Talsy headed towards the market in the centre of town,
drawn by the shouts of vendors advertising their wares. A purse of
silver coins jingled at her waist, gleaned from the chosen, who had
no more use for money. For the most part, the city appeared normal,
but in the market place her eyes were drawn to a pen of strange
animals. They bleated and squealed, their plump torsos supported by
short legs and their pink, snouted faces peering from under a
fringe of woolly hair.

The proud
farmer beamed at her interest in his stock. "Want to buy, madam?
Best shigs in the city! Just weaned. Fatten them up a bit more, and
they're ready for the table. The skins will make a fine soft coat
for you too."

Talsy
shuddered. "What are they?"

"Pig cross
sheep, a wonderful new breed. Next I plan to breed them to
goats."

"Why?"

"So they'll
give milk, too!"

Talsy glanced
at the Prince, who tried hard to hide his disgust and look
interested. Shaking her head at the disappointed farmer, she
hurried into the market. She purchased the supplies while Kieran
shadowed her, his hand on the hilt of his sword, warding off would
be thieves and beggars with a glare from his black eyes. Soon a
bulging bag weighed him down, and he looked at an inn as they
passed it. Talsy snorted and quickened her strides, heading for the
gate. As they passed through a dilapidated neighbourhood, she
spotted a sign advertising herbs, magic and potions. Interested,
she stopped to study the sinister looking house. Dark curtains
blocked its windows, and feathers and animal skulls adorned its
doorway.

Kieran prodded
her. "What are we waiting for?"

"Wait here."
She headed for the house.

The Prince
looked scornful. "Don't tell me you believe in that rubbish!"

"Just wait
outside and guard the door."

He dumped the
heavy bags at his feet. "Oh, great."

Talsy pushed
open the door and entered a gloomy interior, pausing to let her
eyes adjust. Cobwebs hung from dusty rafters under a sagging roof,
and bunches of herbs and flowers dangled beneath them. Several
tables held an assortment of unsavoury wares. Glass jars contained
pickled animal parts, tins of powder gave off nasty smells and
gnarled dried things, beyond the realms of identification, lay in
mummified rows. The air smelt of spices and decay, and a guttering
candle shed soft light on a pile of skulls and teeth. Talsy had
decided to quit the witch's parlour when an ancient crone shuffled
from the darkness and peered at her myopically.

"Can I help
you, missy?" she quavered.

"I doubt it."
Talsy headed for the door.

"You should
try me first, you know." The crone's voice strengthened.

Talsy turned
to face her, revolted by her seamed face and tattered black garb,
which smelt as if it had never been washed. "Okay, I want a love
potion."

"Ah." The
witch revealed toothless gums. "A very common requirement, although
a lass with your looks shouldn't need any such thing. Married, is
he?" She plucked a dark vial from the table in a claw-like hand. "I
have just the thing, guaranteed to make him as horny as a boar in
rut."

Talsy eyed the
vial. "Does it only work on Truemen?"

The crone's
face fell. "Don't tell me you're one of those women who want to lie
with animals, girl? They don't need any potions."

"No!" Talsy
shuddered.

"Well good,"
the woman muttered. "Can't say I approve of it, you know. Men can
screw whatever they wish and no harm comes of it. But a woman,
that's different." She leant forward, giving Talsy the benefit of
her fetid breath. "We've got to be careful what we let take root in
our wombs, missy. Never can tell what it'll turn out to be, or even
if we can birth it, you see?"