Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (33 page)

A tall,
dark-haired man ran through the trees ahead, and Chanter veered
away, slowing his flight to tempt the Torrak Jahar. Despite this,
several Riders peeled away from the group and galloped towards
Kieran, their lances lowering with deadly intent. With an eagle's
shrill scream of anger, the Mujar swerved and arrowed towards the
fleeing Prince with powerful wing beats. Kieran had no chance of
outrunning the Riders that Chanter had unwittingly led to him.
Kieran stopped, raising the Starsword, and the lead Rider turned to
slag and slumped to the ground. The rest were undeterred, and clods
of earth flew from their horses' pounding hooves as they charged
towards their prey. Chanter changed his shape to a sleek hawk and
stooped, folding his wings in a high-speed dive. At the last
moment, he spread his wings, stopping his rush earthwards.

The moment his
talons touched the ground he transformed, becoming a huge,
blue-eyed black stallion. The Prince burnt two more Riders before
Chanter reached him. The heavy stone in its bag hampered him, but
he scrambled onto Chanter's back and clung to his long mane as he
leapt into a gallop. The Torrak Jahar thundered on his heels, so
close that their lance tips almost touched his haunches. Kieran
turned and lashed out with the sword's fire, picking off Riders in
a succession of slumping mounds of lava that rapidly fell behind as
they thundered through the woods. The stallion's speed did not
allow the Riders to gain on him, and, as he found his stride, he
pulled away. The Torrak Jahar refused to give up, however, with
their three greatest prizes so close, and Kieran reduced their
numbers steadily.

They burst
from the forest onto a stretch of open ground, and only when they
were halfway across it did Chanter realise that the grass was brown
and withered. His senses warned him of the corruption below even as
he noticed the thin black lines that crazed the dry, barren soil.
His heart chilled with fear, but there was nothing he could do
except keep going. Without Kieran he would have taken wing, for an
unburdened Mujar was unfettered, and chose his environment at
will.

While carrying
the Prince, however, that option was denied him, and he hoped that
the crust could support his weight. His hooves beat a rapid tattoo
across the hard ground, a staccato rhythm that broke when his
forefeet broke through the crust. He sank into the tar to his
knees, and the speed of his travel almost freed him again, but not
quite. His forelegs broke with twin reports, and he slammed down on
his chest, breaking through the crust again. Kieran was thrown
several man lengths and landed hard. The stone travelled even
further, beyond the area of tar to thud onto solid ground.

Kieran
struggled to draw breath that his aching ribs denied him. Writhing,
he turned to see what had become of Chanter and the Torrak Jahar,
filled with fear for the Mujar. His fall had jerked the Starsword
from his grip, but he did not waste time looking for it. The black
stallion lay sunk to his shoulders in a pool of tar, his neck
stretched out on the ground. The area around him was collapsing,
and his hind legs had become mired as well. The Mujar lay placidly,
as if uncaring of his fate, and Kieran knew that the Dolana already
wreaked its havoc on him. Shaking his head to dispel the gathering
darkness in his eyes, he gasped a little air and looked beyond the
fallen Mujar.

The Torrak
Jahar weighed considerably more than a living being, and the
forerunners had travelled far onto the corruption, breaking the
ground until they fell into the tar's sucking grip. Those that
followed fell sooner into the morass that the ones that had gone
before had churned. The earth blood's trap held all their pursuers,
but it did not stop them. Unlike Chanter, the powerful Dolana did
not affect the Riders, and although it slowed them, they continued
to push their way through it. Four man lengths separated Chanter
from his enemies, a gap they lessened with their torpid
movements.

Drawing a deep
breath to replenish his burning lungs, Kieran levered himself onto
shaking legs and stumbled to the stricken Mujar. He knelt before
Chanter and grasped the long mane that cascaded from his neck.

"Chanter, get
up!"

The stallion
moved feebly, his ears flicking. Kieran pulled on the thick mane,
trying to drag the Mujar free, but Chanter did not help, and in
this form, he was far too heavy for the Prince to shift.

"If you can't
get up, then turn back into a man so I can carry you!" the Prince
said.

The Mujar
raised his head a little, then let it sink back with a groan.
Kieran shook him, pummelling his neck to try to rouse him from his
stupor, his dread growing as the Riders drew nearer. He considered
using the sword to destroy them, and wondered if he would have
time. More Riders were certainly on their way. Only about fifty had
entered the tar pit. He could not protect Chanter indefinitely. He
wondered where the rest of the chosen were, but finding them would
take too long. Nor could he ask Chanter what to do while he was
trapped in horse form.

Chanter fought
Dolana's drain with all his will, but the earth blood contained it
in such immense quantities that he had been helpless from the
moment his legs had sunk into it. The corrupted Earthpower's sickly
warmth flowed through him as it had in the tree, only now it
suffused him with its immense lethargy. Its touch had snuffed out
his grasp on the other Powers, and he could not wield a Power that
flooded him as this did. To his senses, the tar pit was a seething
lake of tarnished silver, the lines so thick and close together
they almost made a solid. Unlike the previous corruption, tints of
green and grey sullied this one, its warmth mixed with fleeting
waves of cold.

Kieran's
frantic voice reached him through the numbness, and Chanter longed
to urge him to flee. Summoning all his remaining strength, he cried
out in a stallion's deep-throated scream, mingled with the silent
speech of horses, hoping that some might hear him. Only in this
most dire of perils would he command beasts to his aid.

The stallion's
neigh startled Kieran, making him glance at the Mujar with a frown.
The cry was a strange mixture of roar and scream, and it made
Chanter and the ground on which he lay vibrate. The Prince looked
up at the approaching Riders, tempted to call the sword and burn
them. That was only a temporary solution though, he had to think of
something else. He delved into his knowledge of Mujar, wishing that
he knew more, but one piece of information thrust itself into his
mind repeatedly. Mujar could not die. Nothing could harm them
except Truemen weapons made from Dolana, like metal and stone. He
shook Chanter again.

"Fire can't
hurt you, can it?" He shot a despairing look at the Riders. "It
can't! Nothing can, right?"

The Mujar
appeared to be asleep now, and Kieran was forced to make the
decision alone. Fire could not harm Chanter, and this was his only
hope to save the Mujar. He stroked the stallion's silken mane.

"I'm sorry if
this causes you pain. I don't know what else to do." He glanced
behind him. "Starsword!"

The sword
appeared before him, and he gripped its hilt and rose to his feet.
The nearest Rider was a mere man length from Chanter now, its eyes
alight with avarice as it forged closer. Backing away to a safer
distance, Kieran raised the sword and pointed it at the tar
pit.

"Fire!"

The
Starsword's power did not merely set things alight, something
Kieran should have considered. It raised the temperature of its
target to the point of combustion, and in the case of tar, this had
startling results. The tar pit turned molten, and exploded with a
thunderous boom. The force of the blast threw Kieran three man
lengths over the ground and lifted him higher still, engulfing him
momentarily in flames. Burning tar sprayed outwards in a fiery
rain, but most missed Kieran. He hit the ground with one arm
twisted beneath him, and it snapped like a twig. The Riders in the
pit were blown apart and their pieces flung far and wide, melted by
the inferno's intense heat. All that remained of the tar pit was a
great crater covered by a thin layer of burning earth blood.

Brin yelled in
surprise when Task and the other horses swerved from their course
and raced back the way they had come. Shan, clinging to Thorn's
mane, questioned the colt urgently.

"What are you
doing? There's danger this way!"

"The Mujar is
in trouble. He has called for our help!" Thorn replied.

Shan glanced
at Brin, whose pale face told him that he had already learnt this
from Task. What kind of trouble could a Mujar get into, he
wondered. They were supposed to be all powerful, weren't they? He
ducked a branch and hung on as the horses careered over the land at
a reckless speed.

Within the
city, bedlam erupted as horses went berserk, bucked off their
riders and galloped to the city wall, where they found the way
blocked. They raced along it, searching for a way out, but the huge
gates were closed. They reared and pounded the wooden gates with
their hooves, lashing out at the men who tried to catch them. Heavy
cart horses pulled their wagons after them, adding to the melee
with their unwieldy burdens. The horses screamed in frustration as
they tried to answer the Mujar's call.

Outside the
walls, patrols were bucked off and left sitting in the dust as
their steeds raced away. A herd of wild horses flung up their heads
from their grazing and joined the stampede, sprinting towards the
faint call.

The explosion
had lifted Chanter from the tar and flung him onto firmer ground,
but not far enough to remove him from the powerful Dolana's
influence. Burning tar covered him, but the Crayash did no harm.
Unfortunately, the force of the explosion had driven chunks of
stone into him, ripped open his belly and torn great rents in his
skin. The pain of his wounds came through the mists of numbness, a
dull sensation detached by the Earthpower. As the fire burnt away
the tar on his skin, the Dolana lessened until it seeped only from
beneath him, allowing his awareness to increase, but his weakness
to remain.

Kieran swam up
from a black sea, which receded in waves. His head pounded from the
blow that had knocked him unconscious. As soon as he moved, agony
shot through his arm, and he lay back with a groan. His good hand
groped for the sword, but he had lost it again. Biting his tongue
to moisten his mouth, he licked his lips and croaked,
"Starsword."

The weapon
appeared over him, and he gripped the hilt and laid it against his
fractured arm. Remembering that he needed water, he cursed and set
down the blade, levering himself upright with a hiss of pain.
Pulling the water skin from under his cloak, he unplugged it with
his teeth and splashed the liquid over his arm. He picked up the
sword and laid the blade against the limb again, muttering the
command to heal. The pain receded and the limb straightened as the
bones realigned and knitted. Allowing the sword to fall with a soft
clatter, he gazed around at the havoc he had wreaked.

A blazing
crater almost a man height deep was all that remained of the tar
pit. All around it, fires burnt in the grass, amongst the trees,
even on the trees, wherever the tar had splattered. Thick smoke
rose in a massive banner for all to see. Cursing, Kieran looked
around for Chanter. The stallion lay near the crater, flames
licking over him. Favouring his arm, Kieran tried to rise to his
feet, but fell sideways as waves of dizziness washed over him,
robbing him of his balance. Cursing his aching head, he crawled
towards the Mujar, horrified by the pools of blood that formed
under the stallion.

The burning
tar that covered most of Chanter forced Kieran to approach his
head, his eyes flinching from the great wound in the Mujar's belly.
The stallion appeared to be asleep, stretched out on his side.
Kieran gripped the glossy mane and shook him.

"Chanter, wake
up! You're free of the tar!"

The Mujar's
eyes opened to gaze up at Kieran with understanding in their
depths, and he made a feeble attempt to rise, but flopped back. His
forelegs were twisted at odd angles, and Kieran crawled back to
fetch the water skin, dismayed by how little of the precious fluid
remained in it. Pulling the stallion's legs straight, he poured
water over them, retreating as the horse thrashed and kicked. The
fire continued to blaze on his haunches, where earth blood soaked
the hair. When Chanter stopped thrashing, Kieran tried to roll him
onto his chest so his contact with the ground was lessened, but he
was too heavy.

Kieran looked
up in alarm at the sound of hooves, puzzled when several riderless
horses galloped up. They trailed broken reins and carried empty
saddles, slowing as they approached the Mujar, whickering in
greeting. Kieran rose and went to the nearest animal, hoping for
some rope with which to haul Chanter to his feet. He searched in
vain through the saddlebags of three horses before turning away in
frustration, and received a shock. The stallion had vanished, and
the Mujar lay in his place, clutching the wound in his belly.

As the tar had
burnt away, the grip of Dolana had lessened until Chanter was able
to change into a man once more. Kieran ran up and slipped his hands
under the Mujar's shoulders, lifting him into a sitting position.
Chanter sighed as the Dolana drained from him, taking with it the
terrible weakness and its sickly warmth. Kieran grabbed the water
skin to wet the wound in Chanter's belly, but he thrust it
aside.

"Wait."

Chanter probed
the wound with shaking fingers, found a chunk of rock that he
plucked out and dropped, then pushed his fingers deeper to find
another. The pain tore through him, making him grit his teeth as he
pulled out a second stone. Kieran picked out stones until he could
find no more, then poured water over the injury, holding Chanter as
he arched in the agony of healing.