Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (2 page)

As the first
streaks of dawn lighted the sky with pale fingers of pink and gold,
Talsy crawled from her bed and dressed in her tough leather
clothes. She packed a bag with dried food and slipped in a water
skin, tucking her hunting knife into her belt. Letting herself out
of the hut, she closed the door behind her. Frost whitened the
grass and a mist hung in the valley, bright with the sun's first
rays. In the barns at the edge of the village, animals stirred in
their warm straw beds.

Walking
briskly to ward off the cold that nipped at her skin, she set off
towards the distant mountains that enclosed this peaceful valley.
Grey teeth of weathered rock thrust up from the green-furred soil
in sheer cliffs that defied any to conquer their mighty walls. At
the valley's far end, Chanter's wall loomed high and sheer,
impossible to scale, but the mountains offered a chance of freedom
over their jagged slopes. Swathes of scree filled the gaps between
the peaks, making it treacherous footing, but atop them were
inviting passes leading out of this Mujar-made prison.

The sun was
overhead by the time Talsy reached the foot of her chosen escape
route, a stretch of scree that led to a wide canyon between two
towering peaks. She paused to rest and chew some bread, glancing
back at the vale. A moving figure far below made her squint, then
curse. There was no mistaking Kieran's flowing gait that ate up her
lead. Stuffing the bread back into her bag, she headed up the
slippery slope of loose shale. For a while she made good progress,
but Kieran caught up fast. Then her foot slipped and she slid
several feet down the loose rock, causing a minor rock slide around
her. Stones clattered and bounced, tumbling away down the hill
below. She hoped that one would hit the Prince and deter his
pursuit, but none did, and she toiled upwards again, sweat running
down her back.

Halfway up the
scree slope she paused to rest against an outcrop of solid rock,
panting as she sipped water from her flask. Kieran had reached the
bottom of the scree and climbed upwards, making better progress
than she had. If she was going to beat him to the top, she had
little time to rest. Putting away the water, she slung the bag over
her shoulder once more and turned to continue her ascent.

"Where do you
think you're going?"

The soft words
almost made Talsy jump out of her skin. She slipped, grabbed wildly
for the rock and missed, starting to slide down the mountain. A
strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled her up onto the outcrop,
then held her steady, and she looked up into silver-blue eyes with
a grin of pure delight.

"Chanter!"

The Mujar
regarded her gravely, not returning her smile. "Why are you
climbing the mountain?"

Talsy was too
glad to see him to answer his question. The wind ruffled the jet
hair that rose in a crest from his high brow. His fine-featured
face surpassed any perfection ever created by a sculptor's art. Her
eyes swept over his lean, broad-shouldered frame, whipcord muscles
visible through the open front of his black leather tunic. His left
hand held her wrist, steadying her, and her eyes avoided the stump
of his right arm.

"Where did you
come from?" she asked. "I didn't see you."

"Above."
Chanter looked down at the toiling Prince. "Are you running
away?"

"Sort of.
He'll try to stop me, at any rate."

"Why?"

"I'm going to
look for the Staff of Law. If you won't help, I'll do it
alone."

Chanter
regarded her sadly. "It's no use. You'll never find all of it, even
if you find any."

"At least I'll
have tried. I can't just live here and let the world go to
ruin!"

"Where will
you look? How will you know where to start? Half of it could be at
the bottom of the sea."

She sagged
against the rock. "I'll ask the wind to help."

"I already
have."

"What did it
say?"

The Mujar
sighed, watching Kieran climb. "The staff was sundered into five
parts. One fell into the Whispering Sea, another amongst the
mountains far to the north. The third fell on the plains of the
Aggapae, a horse tribe not far from here, and a fourth landed in
the Kingdom of Zare, a very long way to the east. The fifth part
the wind did not see, it only knows that the four don't make a
whole staff."

"Then we do
know where they are! All we have to do is fetch them!"

He shook his
head. "The fifth part is missing. Why toil to find the other four
when without the fifth it can never be made whole? And even if we
could make it whole, we don't have the laws to give it."

"We'll make up
the laws! We'll find the fifth part! You can search for it as a
bird!"

Chanter lifted
his right arm. "A bird that cannot fly."

Talsy averted
her eyes from the stump. "We can't just give up."

"You have a
good life here." He gestured to the valley. "I'll keep you safe.
Why face the horrors and hardships of the chaos outside?"

She frowned at
him. "Chanter."

"Yes?"

"You owe
me."

He inclined
his head. "Yes."

"Wish."

The Mujar's
eyes met hers, almost pleading, then slid away. He could not deny
her. "Wish," he granted.

"Take me to
find the pieces of the Staff of Law."

For what
seemed to her like an eternity, he stared into space. "Why?"

Talsy tried to
remember another time when the Mujar had shown any curiosity as to
the reasons for her wanting to do something, and failed. The
question was odd coming from him, and she thought about her reply
before giving it.

"Because a
Trueman broke it, and now this beautiful world is doomed unless
someone fixes it. It's your world, but it's also mine. I intend to
right the wrong, undo the evil that was done by one of my people.
Or at least," she added, "try."

"The one who
committed the act has paid the price," he murmured.

"Tyrander's
death means nothing if the world falls apart because of what he
did."

"I wasn't
talking about Tyrander." The Mujar turned to look at her, raising
the stump of his right arm. "I was talking about me."

Talsy gasped.
"You didn't break the staff!"

"I created the
Starsword."

She shook her
head in confusion. Even now, she did not truly understand him. His
way of thinking confounded her, reminding her of his alien origins.
"You did that for a good reason, not to break the staff. It's not
your fault that it fell into the hands of an evil man who just
happened to be the twin of the one you gave it to. The mistake was
not yours!"

"A Mujar was
never meant to create a weapon. I did. I went against the
predictions of the gods, stepped out of the mould I was meant to
fit. My act started the chain of events that led to the breaking of
the staff. Without the sword, it could not have happened. I alone
am responsible for destroying the world."

Her mind
whirled at this revelation, and a dozen new thoughts popped into it
unbidden. Her tongue outstripped her mind as words tripped off it
without contemplation. "So you're just going to slip back into the
Mujar mould I yanked you out of? You're going to sit here on this
mountain and watch the world die, when you have the power to stop
it, and do nothing."

His eyes
narrowed. "Who says I have the power to stop it?"

"Damn it,
Chanter, you can move the mountains, part the seas, stop the world
from turning if you wish!"

He nodded.
"But I don't know all the laws."

"You have to
try! Step out of that Mujar mould again and do something with the
powers the gods gave you! Don't you think they were given to you
for a reason? Nothing you can do now can make the situation any
worse, so what's the harm in trying to make it better?"

Chanter
smiled, a sadness invading the depths of his eyes that made her
want to shake him. Defeat resided there with resignation and
sorrow. His mentality was so gentle that struggle and aspiration
were not listed amongst its qualities. In a flash of inspiration,
she realised what the gods had done to these, their special
children.

Mujar had
almost unlimited power; their abilities were awesome, yet their
potential had been completely stunted by the inflicting upon them
of a spirit that had no vision, no ambition, desire or drive. They
were content merely to exist and be left in peace, undisturbed by
the rigours of a world that did not touch them, for they had no
needs. Pain could make them humble, torture could make them hate
and help could make them grateful. What, she wondered, if anything,
could make a Mujar angry, make him lash out with those awesome
powers and change what he did not like?

Talsy
remembered Chanter's flash of anger when the Prince had injured the
sea creature. Because it was forbidden, he claimed, by the gods.
That proved that Mujar had the ability to feel rage, so there had
to be a way to snap him out of his gentle resignation. The
comparison that sprang into her mind between Mujar and animals was
one she did not like to contemplate. If the only difference between
Truemen and animals was Truemen's desire to change their world to
suit them, then Mujar were more akin to animals than she was
prepared to accept. They were not animals, however, and she had to
find a way to motivate Chanter into trying to save this world.

Kieran reached
them and hauled himself onto the rock, his presence making their
sanctuary crowded. Talsy glared at him as he glanced between
them.

"So, you found
him," he stated. "Now we can all go home."

"You can," she
retorted. "Chanter and I are going to look for the staff." She
glanced up at the Mujar. "Aren't we?"

He sighed. "If
that's your Wish, you know I can't refuse."

"What are our
chances?" Kieran asked.

"I don't
believe we will succeed," Chanter said.

"Great," the
Prince muttered. "So, do we carry on up this mountain, or is there
a better way?"

Chanter
smiled. "Unless you can fly, there's no way out through here."

"What do you
mean?" Talsy demanded.

"On the other
side of the canyon above there is only a sheer cliff. It's a long
way down, and thick forest below. You won't be able to climb
down."

Kieran glanced
at Talsy and snorted. "So much for your bright idea."

"It worked,"
she shot back, "I found him."

"Yeah, but now
we have to climb all the way back down this damn mountain."

"Nobody asked
you to come." Talsy left the rock, eager to quit the Prince's
company and expecting Chanter to follow.

The Mujar
remained on the rock, and she tried to climb back up to haul him
off it, but the stones under her feet slid away, carrying her with
them. Unable to fight it, she let the scree carry her down,
balancing so she did not tumble head over heels down the
mountain.

Kieran turned
to Chanter and opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away
across the vale. The ancient mountains surrounded it like grey
stone guardians of the earth, thrust up at the dawn of time to
protect this sanctuary of sanity in a world gone mad.

"Go," Chanter
murmured, "leave me be."

The two Lowmen
scrambled down the rocky slope, reached the green swathe below and
paused to argue vociferously. Chanter knew the content of their
debate. Eventually Kieran hustled Talsy away, half dragging her by
an arm that she kept yanking from his grasp. Chanter sighed.
Troublesome, arguing Lowmen, so noisy and pushy, unable to leave
well enough alone. The world's sorrow rested on his shoulders,
crushing the joy and energy he had always possessed. Why did she
want to go out into the dying world beyond this peaceful valley he
had brought her to? Surely she should be content, as he was, to
live in peace and tranquillity until the end of her days? He rubbed
the stump of his right arm as he mulled over his life, trying to
make sense of it.

In the clan it
had been simple. He would spend the day sunning himself unless
someone came and told him what to do. Usually it was to dig out the
cesspits or clean the carcasses of the animals the hunters had
slain. For this, they gave him a knife, which they took away when
he had finished his chore. Sometimes he was required to dig a grave
or break up the clods of earth in the ploughed fields. Simple,
undemanding tasks. He had enjoyed that life. The horror of the
battle with the Hashon Jahar had hardly touched him, only evincing
a fleeting regret that his peaceful existence was ended, and
sadness that he had not been numbered amongst the dead.

The old
hermit's task had not greatly interested him, its outcome
unimportant and its performance merely duty. Then the foolish girl
had chained him with clan bond, but he could have cast it off
without a moment's remorse. Instead, he had clung to it as if it
was his lifeline, and the more she had given him the more he had
treasured her, until that moment when he had realised that she was
the one he had been sent to find. At that moment, his life had
changed.

No longer did
he wish to merely lead a peaceful existence, but instead a goal had
been thrust upon him. To find the chosen and lead them to the
gathering, where they would be judged. He had enjoyed having a
purpose and a destiny, and being able to use his powers to help
those in his charge. The challenge had inspired him and made him
discover facets of himself for which he would not otherwise have
looked. The responsibility had buoyed him, and the attainable goal
the gods had given to him had spurred him. The empowerment he had
gained had led to tragedy, however. He had overstepped the line and
created a Mujar weapon that should never have been brought into
being, and, in doing so, he had brought about the world's
downfall.