Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (28 page)

"I should be
back around dawn."

Boras nodded,
but concern, pity and disbelief shone in his eyes. Opening the door
a crack, Kieran peered up and down a deserted street. He slipped
out of the house, keeping close to the wall as he hurried up the
road, avoiding the pools of light as much as he could. Two mangoats
ignored him, intent on their work. He traversed several silent
streets, heading for the palace. A distant, ululating scream,
abruptly cut off, sent a shiver through him. A clatter of hooves
warned him, and he dived into a dark alley as four Riders passed
by. Flitting from shadow to shadow, he headed towards the luridly
lighted palace that commanded an entire hill. Screams tore the
still night air as beggars died at the Ghost Riders' hands, sending
fresh shivers through him each time. Something about those screams
told him that the beggars did not die easily.

Rounding a
corner, he almost stepped into a street right in front of four
Riders who sat silent and motionless on their steeds. Cursing his
stupidity, he moved back into deep shadow. He should have known.
Beggars could run and hide from the galloping Torrak Jahar too,
whose hooves' drumming announced their progress. So they set traps,
waiting for the hapless men to run out, fleeing other Riders. Like
traps set for rats. He waited for his heart to stop pounding,
wiping nervous sweat from his forehead. The mere sight of the
Riders still had the power to instil great fear in him.
Backtracking, he chose another street and moved along it more
cautiously, peering out at every corner. Twice more he encountered
waiting Riders, and each time he chose another route. His breath
steamed in the chill air, and the water skin glugged gently on his
back.

Just before he
reached the palace wall, he encountered four Riders that had
trapped a beggar. They surrounded him, prodded him with their
lances and made him hop and gibber, begging for mercy in a
terrified, whining voice. One of the Riders dismounted, and its
steed froze into immobility, becoming a statue. The Rider
approached the man with a hand outstretched, as if to offer mercy.
The other Riders laughed in a hissing titter that jangled Kieran's
nerves. The Torrak Jahar touched its victim, and the man gave a
gut-chilling scream of pure agony. Kieran turned and trotted away,
unable to watch. He had no qualms about killing, but there were
limits to how much suffering he could stomach.

Reaching the
first wall, he turned to walk along it, heading for the stretch
Boras had recommended. Twice he was forced to hide while riders
galloped past, moving cautiously to avoid the traps they set. He
arrived at the correct section of wall and paused, searching the
street for any sign of Riders. In order to reach the wall, he would
have to quit the houses' shelter and stand exposed for as long as
it took to cut through it. He strode across the street and drew the
Starsword, thrusting it into the wall with a swift movement.

Kieran dragged
the ebon blade through the wall in a low arch, large enough for him
to crawl through without being too conspicuous. After sliding the
blade along the ground and up to join the first incision, he tried
to push the piece of rock from its place, but found it unaffected
by his struggles. Panting, he rested against it and glanced around.
Either the rock was too heavy, or the wall was so thick that he had
not cut right through it. Either way, he was going to have to cut
his way through it far more laboriously than he had thought.

After
listening for a moment, he decided that the coast was clear and set
to work. Thrusting the blade in at an angle, he cut through to his
first incision, dislodging a chunk of stone that thudded to the
ground, narrowly missing his toes. He repeated the procedure until
he had cut away all the archways' edges, then sliced off the
protruding centre. Crouching within the alcove he had carved, he
tried to move the stone again, but it was still solid. Evidently
the wall was thicker than the blade was long, and he had not
succeeded in cutting through it. Thrusting the blade into his
original incision, he followed it a second time, pushing the sword
into the stone to the hilt. When he heaved at the stone again, it
slid away with a harsh grating, opening a gap around its edge.
Since it was wider than it was tall, the stone did not fall, and he
was forced to push it until the gap had widened sufficiently to
allow him to wriggle through it.

Emerging into
a thick hedge, he thrust aside its prickly branches until he could
see what lay beyond it. As Boras had said, it was a park-like
garden filled with trees and flowering shrubs, ponds and statues.
Sheathing the sword, he crawled from the hedge and stood up,
studying the landscape. It appeared to be deserted, and he paused
to mark his escape route with a piece of rag before moving into the
garden. He ran across the rolling lawns, pausing in the shadow of
trees and statues to check the way ahead before going on.

The next tall,
imposing wall loomed before him, formed from twisted rock that
seemed to scream in silent torture at being dragged from its stony
womb and forced into alien shapes by inept earth wizards. Kieran
remembered the way Chanter had formed the ship, coaxing the flowing
rock into the shape he wished with consummate ease. This stone
looked like harsh minds and brutal hands had bludgeoned and twisted
it. He sliced through it in another low arch, and this time the
sundered stone slid away when he pushed against it, opening a door
with a grinding rumble. He froze at the sound, remembering the
guards that patrolled atop the wall, but no curious shouts came
from above.

After a
moment's rest he peered through the new portal, finding himself
again amid shrubbery. Beyond the bush was a small, well-tended
garden around a stone mansion crafted by stonemasons with hammers
and chisels before earth wizards had come into being. No light
shone from the windows, and Kieran flitted unnoticed across the
dark grounds. A dog barked uncertainly nearby, then fell silent.
Kieran threaded his way through a town of tall mansions, some
grander than others and a few filled with light, but most dark and
silent. The distance between the second wall and the third was far
larger than the first two, and it took him some time to traverse
the gauntlet of grand dwellings, some guarded by noisy dogs.
Fortunately, when these vigilant hounds scented his presence and
gave tongue in alarm, they were rewarded with shouts and curses
that silenced their dutiful barking.

Reaching the
third wall, Kieran peered around the corner to assure himself that
he was in the right place with a glimpse of the gate and two sleepy
guards propped up on their spears before it. Like the houses, this
wall had been built years ago from stone and mortar, but only for
the first two man heights. From there it took on the twisted look
of an earth wizard's bungling power. Kieran leant against it and
rested, readying himself for what he would face inside.

Swallowing his
fear, he whipped up his flagging courage and drew the Starsword,
holding it before him to draw strength from the blade. With a
muttered prayer to whatever gods might be listening, he turned and
plunged it into the wall, drawing it swiftly through the stone in a
far larger arch than the previous ones. As he made the final cut,
the stone door wobbled. His element of surprise would be tenuous,
but necessary, and he thrust the stone inward with a mighty push.
It toppled, shattering as it hit the inner courtyard's floor with a
thunderclap that ripped the night's silence to shreds and started a
cacophony of frantic barking from the houses behind him.

Kieran leapt
after it, entering the black army's compound with his sword ready
to strike, his eyes scanning the terrain for his enemies. Moonlight
illuminated the top of a slender tower at its centre and half of
one wall, but the rest of the courtyard was filled with deep
shadows. Eight sets of yellow eyes glowed with malignant intensity
as they rested on their prey, who had conveniently delivered
himself into their courtyard. A hissing titter sliced the silence
that followed the crash of falling stone, sending a shiver through
Kieran. Knowing that hesitation was fatal, he swung towards the
nearest black shadow as its steed's yellow eyes opened, animated by
its rider.

Pointing the
blade at it, Kieran cried, "Fire!"

The Torrak
Jahar became molten and flung up its arms as it toppled from its
slumping steed, its face smearing into glowing rock. White flames
licked over it as it collapsed, the two forms subsiding into a pool
of spreading lava. Not pausing to admire the sword's handiwork,
Kieran swung to face another Torrak Jahar while the Riders stood
frozen in surprise, lighted now by their fallen comrade's dull red
glow. He pointed the blade and commanded it, and the Rider and its
steed slumped like the first, their forms flowing into another
glowing pool. The rest of the Torrak Jahar recovered from their
surprise and spurred their steeds forward with fierce hissing cries
of rage, the horses' stone hooves scraping the tar as they
scrambled to grip it.

Shouts of
surprise and alarm came from the Truemen guards outside the gate,
mixed with the clatter of running feet. Kieran pointed the sword
again, reducing a third Rider to lava as the others strived to
close the gap and vanquish this sudden threat to their existence. A
fourth fell before Kieran was forced to duck a Rider's scything
blade, and he jumped aside to strike out with his own. The
Starsword clove through the steed's chest, sliced off its forelegs
and sent it crashing onto its belly to slide helplessly before
falling over. Its Rider jumped clear and attacked, its stone face
twisted with hatred and blood lust, its black sword swinging.
Kieran spun away, and the Rider's sword cut into the thick leather
armour of his shoulder with a dull tugging sensation followed by a
lash of pain.

Kieran ducked
the downward slash of another Rider's sword and rolled under its
steed's belly, hacking off one of its hind legs as he passed. The
horse crashed to the floor with a hard clattering thud of stone on
tar, and the Rider jumped free to join its fellows' furious attack
on the elusive Trueman warrior. Kieran spun and ducked, using all
his speed and agility to foil the Torrak Jahar's ponderous strokes.
The four surrounded him, two on foot and two mounted, trying to cut
him down with their swords or impale him with their lances. He
lopped off each weapon that menaced him, careful never to allow any
of the Riders to touch him.

Metal rang on
stone as the Riders hit each other in the melee, while their
horses' hooves scraped and grated, mixing with the Riders' hissing
curses. In the confusion, it was impossible to keep track of all
the Riders, and a sword stabbed him from behind, piercing the flesh
of his flank above his hip. He staggered forward, slipped free of
the weapon and spun to face the threat. Swinging the Starsword, he
lopped off a dismounted Rider's head. Its torso toppled over to
smash on the floor, sending shards skittering across the tar.
Kieran dived to the ground and rolled away as another Rider's sword
rang on the tar where he had been standing. Leaping up, he slashed
backwards at a mounted Rider behind him, almost cutting it through
at the waist. It wobbled, dropped its weapon and strived to hold
itself together by grasping its leg, but its horse staggered
sideways and fell, breaking the Rider in two.

The remaining
two, one mounted, one on foot, attacked with a fury born of
desperation, hurling themselves at him. He threw himself aside,
narrowly avoiding one, and its sword sliced into his thigh with a
flash of white-hot pain. He bit his tongue to silence the bellow of
agony that stretched his chest, staggering as he gripped the wound
to slow the blood that pumped from it. The mounted Torrak Jahar
collided with its comrade as they turned to attack him again,
sending the horseless Rider reeling away.

Kieran pointed
the sword as the mounted Rider attacked and shouted for fire. The
Rider turned molten, its momentum carrying it for a few staggering
steps before its horse's legs gave way and it slumped into a pool
of lava. The lash of heat scorched Kieran's cheek, making him
recoil with a gasp. Swinging around, he found the last Rider almost
upon him, charging him with all its ponderous speed, sword raised.
He leapt aside and sliced it in two as it thundered past on heavy
stone feet. It crashed to the ground, bits snapping off, hands and
fingers breaking with the force of the impact.

A glance
around assured him that none of the fallen Riders was a threat to
him, and he relaxed, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He bent
and clasped the wound in his thigh, his breath coming in quick
painful gasps as he gazed at the carnage. Wiping away the sweat
that tried to run into his eyes, he retreated from the intense heat
of the pools of lava. Some of them were starting to harden and
cool, lumpy with the vague forms of the creatures they had been.
Those he had sliced through twitched a little, broken hands clawing
at the floor. Their glowing eyes glared at him with helpless rage,
and their faces twisted as they hissed vile curses. The cooling
pools of lava flickered with the sickly light of the souls still
trapped within the stone.

Kieran limped
to the tower and pulled out the water skin, unstoppered it and
splashed cold water onto the deep gash in his thigh. Holding the
Starsword flat on the wound, he commanded it to heal, and sagged
with relief as the pain ebbed. Shouts of argument and anger came
from the gate, making him glance in that direction. Evidently the
guards had summoned help, but as yet no one had plucked up the
courage to enter the black army's sanctum. An officer bellowed
orders, but prudent soldiers quailed at the thought. Still, time
was running out, and he healed the deep wound in his flank, not
bothering about the one in his shoulder. Turning to the tower, he
thrust the sword into the stone and cut a doorway with swift
strokes. The stone door fell, shattering with a boom, and he leapt
over it into a gloomy interior.