Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (31 page)

"They're after
him," the beggar announced. "Ransacked the Dog's Head inn, now
she's offering a huge reward. The city's been sealed and they're
searching everything."

Boras groaned
and slumped into a chair. "I knew it."

"What are we
going to do?" Visha demanded.

"I'd get rid
of him if I was you," the beggar advised sagely. "If they find him
here, you're in big trouble."

"We could hide
him," Shara suggested.

The beggar
shook his head. "They're tearing houses apart, he'll be found."

"He's managed
to get this far," Boras muttered, "I can't let him down now. We'll
help him to get out of the city."

"He's
exhausted, he needs to rest," Shara protested.

The beggar
helped himself to a piece of bread. "Getting him out of the city
will be like sending him from the frying pan into the fire. The
black army is out there, searching the land outside."

Boras slumped,
fumbling for his pipe and tobacco. "What choice do we have? If we
try to hide him, we'll all die. If we send him out there, we send
him to his death."

Shara turned
to the beggar. "How long before they get here?"

He shrugged,
his mouth full. "Probably around noon."

"We'll let him
rest until just before noon, then ask him what he wants to do," she
stated.

Boras puffed
his pipe, avoiding her eyes. "Yes, we'll do that. It's the most
sensible thing."

A rough
shaking woke Kieran, and he snapped awake and sat bolt upright in a
smooth movement. His hand started towards his waist, then paused
when he found Shara kneeling beside him. He gazed around, his mind
still fogged with sleep and weariness. Shara pressed a mug of hot
soup into his hands, and he sipped it, then rose to his feet. He
ached, his shoulder throbbed and the room swayed, forcing him to
clutch the back of a chair for support. He slid into it and clasped
the hot mug to soak up its warmth, the broth's savoury smell making
his mouth water.

Boras eyed him
from across the table. "You're in big trouble, my friend."

Kieran smiled.
"I guess she's found out. How long did I sleep?"

"Close to half
a day. Larina is tearing the city apart searching for you and her
stone."

Kieran yawned.
"Then I should be on my way."

"I agree, but
the black army is outside, searching the countryside."

"Well, that
was clever of her." He frowned, thinking of Talsy and Chanter
waiting in the forest. "All the more reason to leave."

"How did you
do it?" Boras leant closer, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"As I had
planned, up to a point. Then I was surrounded, as you said I would
be, so I made a bargain with the Queen."

"A
bargain?"

Kieran nodded.
"I swapped my sword for the stone. She was most generous, gave me
silver and another sword, but then, she expected to get them back,
only she won't."

"You swapped
your magical sword?" Boras looked outraged.

"Don't worry,
I intend to get it back."

"How? You
can't go back to the palace!"

Kieran shook
his head. "I'm not. Don't worry, when I need it, I'll have it. Let
it frustrate her a little longer."

The beggar
stuck his head through the doorway. "They're two streets away."

Kieran gulped
the rest of the broth and stood up, his legs a little firmer. "Will
you guide me to a place where the forest meets the city wall? I'll
need the cover of trees if I'm to elude the Torrak Jahar in
daylight."

Boras nodded.
"Of course, and my sons will carry the bag for you."

Kieran went
over to the satchel and extracted the bag of silver, putting it on
the table with a clank. He took a handful of coins to fill his
purse, then pushed the rest to Boras.

"Take it for
the beggars, hide it well. The sword is yours too, but don't keep
it here. Hide it somewhere on the way to the wall, that way if they
find it, they won't know who put it there."

Boras stared
at the bag in astonishment, and, since her husband was speechless,
Visha murmured, "Thank you."

Kieran smiled.
"Thank you, Visha, Shara, for your hospitality and kindness."

Visha smiled
and Shara blushed, making Jaevu giggle. Kieran ruffled the boy's
hair and admonished him, "Stay out of trouble."

Boras
recovered from his surprise and pushed the bag towards Visha with
instructions, "Divide it up and hide it."

Boras rose to
his feet, and his strapping teenage sons lifted the heavy satchel.
Kieran hid the jewelled sword under his cloak as Boras opened the
door and peered out. He gestured for them to follow and led the way
down the street towards the city wall.

On the way,
Boras took the jewelled sword and slid it through a drain hole into
the sewer, where the beggars could retrieve it later. Few people
ventured onto the streets, and fearful faces peered from windows
and doors. Once they ducked into some stables to avoid a patrol
marching past, then hurried on. When the boys grew tired, Boras and
Kieran shared the load for a while, giving it back when Chavas and
Peran had recovered their youthful strength. They passed through a
street the soldiers had already searched, where muttering citizens
carried their scattered and soiled belongings back into their
houses.

Reaching a
section of wall where branches waved above it, the boys put down
the satchel and rubbed aching arms. Boras turned to Kieran. "Are
you going to climb it?"

Kieran shook
his head. "I'm going to cut my way through it." He stepped back and
squinted at the distant palace to ensure that Boras and his sons
were not in the way. "With the Starsword."

Larina jerked
in surprise as the sword slid from its scabbard and shot across the
room in a flash of stars, vanishing through the wall with a soft
snick of steel on stone. For a stunned instant she stared at the
empty scabbard, then rose to cross the room and study the slim
incision in the wall. Her hands clenched as fresh rage coursed
through her in a burning tide.

"You cunning
bastard!" she hissed. "Not stupid at all, are you? But you won't
escape my black army; that I swear!"

Boras' jaw
dropped as the Starsword appeared before Kieran, hanging point down
in the air. No one had seen it fly to him, its speed was too great,
so it seemed to materialise from thin air. Kieran gripped the hilt
and turned to the wall, Boras and his sons shuffling aside. Kieran
ran a hand lovingly along the ebon blade and smiled at the portly
merchant.

"No one can
wield it but me, Boras, and it comes when I call. Your greedy Queen
got what she deserved for the stone. Nothing."

Boras'
hesitant smile grew into a delighted grin, and he chuckled at
Kieran's triumph, his sons joining in the merriment. The more they
thought about it the more their mirth grew, until all three
convulsed in paroxysms of laughter.

Boras wiped
his eyes. "I wish I could see the look of her face when she finds
it gone! What a marvellous ploy! She thought she was tricking you,
meanwhile she was the one to fall into her own trap!" He laughed
uproariously.

Kieran grinned
at their hilarity, enjoying the moment of triumph. Times of
precious laughter were to be treasured in a world where so much
hate and greed burgeoned, polluting life's sweetness with its sour
taint of unhappiness and discontent. People who could laugh at
times like these were rare, and he appreciated Boras even more for
it. Boras walked on the sunny side of the road of life, and enjoyed
its little pleasures without dwelling on the horrors and fears that
lurked in the shadows. He took the rocky path of morality and
goodness, but enjoyed its hardships because he knew that he was on
the right track. To see one who wallowed in the mire of greed and
walked the easy road of corruption derailed as Queen Larina had
just been gave him immense satisfaction, and Kieran enjoyed his
amusement for what it was, honest merriment at the defeat of
mendacity.

Leaving Boras
to enjoy his moment of happiness, Kieran approached the wall. He
plunged the blade into the stone and described a low arch once
more, sliding it through the rock with a faint, grating hiss. Boras
and his sons gaped. Completing the incision, he found that again
the sword had failed to slice through the thick wall, and the chunk
he had cut remained firmly in place. With swift strokes, he hacked
off great hunks of stone, jumping back as they rolled from their
place in the wall.

Crouching
within the recess he had carved, he followed his original cut a
second time, then set his back to it and heaved. Chavas and Peran
squeezed in beside him when the stone gave only a fraction, adding
their considerable muscle to his. Between them, they pushed the
huge stone from its place, for it was as thick as the sword was
long. When the gap was wide enough, Kieran peered through it into a
dense, deserted forest.

Turning to his
helpers, he shook the boys' hands, then Boras'. The portly merchant
smiled and nodded, moved to speechlessness again.

"Take care,
Boras," Kieran advised. "Look after your family, and hopefully,
when the staff is restored, we'll meet again in a better
world."

"Our prayers
are with you," Boras assured him, finding his voice. "Safe journey
and good luck."

Kieran nodded
and picked up the satchel, pushing it through the gap in the stone
before he followed it. In the forest, he shouldered his burden and
slipped through the trees, glancing back at the hole as Boras and
his sons fitted the chunks of rock back into it to disguise his
exit.

Talsy sat
outside the cave that had become their home for the past few days,
enjoying the peaceful forest and dreaming of her coming child. The
Aggapae played a game with pebbles and sticks, giggling amongst
themselves. They had invited her to join them, but she preferred to
spend her time lost in dreams. Chanter was away somewhere, on
guard, and the horses had gone to find grazing. The arrival of an
inky raven jerked her from her pleasant thoughts. It transformed in
a rush of wind, and Chanter came over to them.

"Get inside
the cave, something's coming."

They all
jumped up, and the Aggapae called their horses, which galloped up
after a few minutes. Talsy entered the cave first, and the others
crowded in after her, calming the fretful horses. As soon as they
were all within, the Mujar bent and placed his palms on the ground
to pick up the reins of Earthpower. The chilly silence clamped down
as he straightened, and he wielded the power with a flick of his
mind. A sheet of rock rose from the ground with a soft grating,
sealing the cave's entrance. The Mujar caused it to take on a
natural appearance, seamed and weathered by time, moss and ferns
growing in its cracks. As he finished, a rumble of hooves came on
the wind, and he went to the nearest tree. Assuming the shape of a
spotted hunting cat, he clawed his way into its branches.

Several
minutes later, four Torrak Jahar galloped up, their hooves' thunder
loud. Their heads swivelled as their glowing eyes searched the
land. As they neared the cave, they slowed to a canter, then
stopped. Chanter flattened himself on his perch, wondering what had
led them to this spot. The Riders turned this way and that, as if
they sensed something but were unable to find it. An ugly thought
wormed its way into Chanter's mind, that these undead creatures
could sense life like a dog could track a man. If so, his life
would soon draw their attention upwards, and he hoped that they
would see only a spotted hunting cat and move on.

Instead, the
Riders milled closer to the cave, and one dismounted to place its
hands on the stone. It spoke in a strange grating voice, and the
other three joined it, clearly puzzled by what they had found. They
searched the rock for an opening, and one pushed the tip of its
sword into a crack and tried to pry it open. Two others joined in
this futile endeavour, but the fourth turned and scanned the
surroundings again. As Chanter had dreaded, its eyes rose until
they found his camouflaged shape amongst the leaves. It drew the
attention of the other three to its discovery, and four pairs of
sickly eyes fixed upon him, making him shiver. He remained still,
watching them, for he doubted that their mission was to hunt
spotted cats. Even his acute hearing was not keen enough to pick up
the words of their conversation, and he waited for the outcome
before deciding on his next move.

The one who
had first seen him approached the tree, its twisted visage raised.
It placed its hands on the trunk, as if it wished to shake him
down, but the tree was far too sturdy for that. It turned to the
others and gave an order, its whispery voice grating in the Mujar's
ears. The three drew nearer, hefting their swords, and Chanter knew
that his time for action had come. Whether they had sensed that he
was Mujar, or merely wished to drink the blood of a spotted cat was
now irrelevant, for they intended to cut down his tree. So long as
he held the reins of Earthpower he could not fly, and if he
released it the rock would fall and the chosen would die. As the
Torrak Jahar hacked at the base of his tree, Chanter wielded the
Dolana he held.

Brin kindled a
flame in the cave and fed it with dry grass and sticks. The silence
pressed in on them, and the darkness before the fire had been
complete. The horses shifted and stamped, soothed by their riders,
who whispered soft meaningless words as they squatted around the
fire.

"Thorn doesn't
like it in here," Shan muttered, and Taff clasped his shoulder.

"None of us
do, but we have to be calm."

"I've told
him, but he's not used to small spaces, and the air smells
bad."