Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law

by Southwell, T C

  Kieran wondered how they could have ridden past the shattered gates and stone guards without noticing them, but everyone had been so tired. “Yes, we were. We must move on today, and we need supplies. Since all your people are so distressed, and quite understandably, perhaps you could help us?”

  The innkeeper nodded, putting away his handkerchief. “I’ll do my best. What do you need?”

  When the man left with the list of supplies, Kieran wandered to the door and stared up the street. Not far from the inn, a swirling line crossed the road, dividing black tar from grey rock. A weeping crowd gathered before it, afraid to tread on the stone in case it carried its curse to them, he assumed. Five people stood on the stone, four men and a woman, as grey as the street, and stared at their friends with glowing, sickly eyes. The houses seemed unchanged except in colour, which matched the street and the landscape beyond, where the town gates lay smashed on the road and trees had become piles of rubble. On the living side of the line, people loaded their worldly belongings into wagons with unseemly haste, driven to flee the horror in their town.

  Kieran turned away and nearly fell over Shan, whose soft eyes brimmed with tears. He chivvied the boy into the common room, where the rest of the Aggapae sat at a table. Talsy joined them a little later, her face chalk white and her eyes ringed with dark circles of fatigue. She looked fragile and vulnerable, her vitality and pluck gone. Her hair hung in lank, dull strands and her thin fingers trembled when she put her hands on the table. Catching his eyes on her, she shot him a defiant look and hid her hands under the table.

  The innkeeper returned with some of the items Kieran had asked for, piling them on a nearby table. He shot a concerned look at the girl before hurrying out again as the Prince went over to inspect the supplies. The goods were inferior, the blankets thin and worn and the two tents mildewed from long storage. This was no time to be choosy, however. The innkeeper returned with an old saddle, two satchels of dried food, water skins and an empty satchel. He dumped it on the table and leant closer to Kieran.

  “Your lady friend looks ill. Do you want the doctor?”

  “No, thank you. She’s not ill, she’s with child.”

  “Ah.” The innkeeper smiled. “Your wife?”

  After short pause, Kieran nodded. “Yes.”

  The plump man shot a glance at Talsy. “She’s young, she’ll be fine. My wife was a midwife, rest her soul, and she made a wonderful tonic for mothers to be. Did them the world of good.”

  “Do you still have any?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll buy two bottles of that as well then.”

  The innkeeper beamed. “So nice to see a young husband concerned for his wife. I’ll get it.”

  When the man returned, Kieran paid for the supplies, far too much for such inferior goods, but there was no time to quibble. The innkeeper explained that his cook not around to make breakfast, but the Prince shrugged it off, wanting only to get away from the town as soon as possible. The Aggapae shouldered the supplies while Kieran trotted upstairs to collect the pieces of the staff, packing them into the empty satchel. Staggering under his burden, he joined the others, and they left through the far gate without looking back. Outside the town, the Aggapae summoned their steeds, and they resumed their journey towards the mountains.

  Kieran glanced back at the exhausted group, whose drawn faces and drooping mounts revealed the toll that five days of arduous travel had taken. The Aggapae had to urge their tired horses on, and they clearly hated forcing their friends to endure such rigours. Talsy was worst off, so pale and drawn that she looked as if she was made from porcelain. It was all she could do to cling to her mare’s mane all day and try to choke down a little food before she fell asleep each night.

  Kieran’s concern had grown as she weakened, and he cursed the Torrak Jahar that still followed them. Chanter had gone back twice to try to lead them away, but the Ghost Riders no longer took the bait en mass. They despatched a few to follow the Mujar while the rest continued after the chosen. Chanter had been forced to use other delaying tactics, or the Riders would have caught up with them days ago. First he had raised a wall of rock, forcing them to go around it, then he had torn the earth apart in a great chasm, which had delayed the Riders for two days. Nothing stopped them, however, they just kept coming, their tireless steeds galloping day and night. Sooner or later, they would catch up.

  When the horses stumbled to a halt in the soft golden light of sunset, Kieran scanned the terrain around them with bleary eyes. To his right, a swathe of forest covered rolling hills to the horizon, and ahead the mountain range’s white peaks scraped the clouds. Behind him, golden grassland stretched to the stone forest they had left behind, and to his left more woodland clothed the hills. He slid from his sweating mount and waited for Chanter to come down from his vigil in the sky. The Aggapae rubbed and brushed the exhausted animals, soothing them with soft words and caressing hands. Thorn seemed to be the least tired of the horses, possessing an awesome stamina. Talsy huddled on the ground and hugged her knees, hiding her strained, despairing expression. Kieran snorted in irritation when the Mujar failed to land immediately, and went over to the girl.

  “How do you feel?” He squatted beside her.

  “Like a wet rag that’s just been through a wringer.”

  “Why doesn’t he do something more drastic? Can’t he see we’re not going to make it?”

  Talsy raised her head to gaze at him with hollow eyes. “You mean Chanter? Like what?”

  “He could destroy them with a flick of his damned finger!”

  “He doesn’t even have to flick a finger to do that, but he won’t. You know he won’t kill.”

  “They’re not alive!”

  Talsy shook her head. “In a way they are. They have souls. If he destroys their bodies, they’ll be trapped in pools of rock.”

  “So what?” he demanded. “I did that to a whole bunch of them. It’s no more than they deserve.”

  “He won’t do it.”

  “Then maybe I should. I could go back and burn them with the sword.”

  “There are too many,” she said, “and your horse is too tired. You’d only end up dead.”

  “If we don’t do something soon, we’re all going to end up dead.”

  She pulled her hair back and twisted it to keep it out of her face for a while. “There are almost a thousand of them. How many do you think you can kill before they get you?”

  “Why doesn’t he put a wall around them, a permanent one, and leave them inside it?”

  She shrugged as a shadow passed over them. “Ask him.”

  The eagle landed nearby, and Kieran turned away as the rush of wind that accompanied Chanter’s transformation kicked up eddies of stinging dust. His brows were knotted in a black scowl when he faced the Mujar, and Chanter veered away from him like a wild creature sensing danger.

  “We can’t go on like this,” Kieran said. “You’ve got to do something about those damned Riders.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “I know you won’t kill them, but why won’t you trap them in a circle of rock?”

  “Trap them.” Chanter shuddered. “Like Mujar in the Pits.”

  “If you don’t, they’re going to catch us and kill us.”

  The Mujar turned to stare across the sun-gilded land, his eyes narrowed, frowning.

  Kieran went on, “You won’t be killing them, just locking them away, preventing them from killing others. Once the Staff of Law is restored, they’ll die anyway.”

  “The wall will fall if I fly, and there’s much danger on the land for me now.”

  “Make it permanent.”

  “Then they’ll never be free again.”

  “What does it matter? Once the staff -”

  Chanter swung to face him. “The staff cannot be restored. This quest is only at Talsy’s Wish. They’ll remain within the wall until the land crumbles. If the staff was restored, they would revert to Hashon Jahar.”r />
  “Then they’ll part the rock.”

  “No. If I make it permanent, nothing can part it but Mujar.”

  Kieran gestured. “What does it matter? Return and free them then, if you wish. At least it’ll give us a chance to escape.”

  “Perhaps. But if I lock them away they’ll lose power and feed off each other to survive. They need sustenance, diabolical though they are. Without it they’ll grow weak.”

  “How can you pity those things? They shouldn’t even exist! They would drain you without a moment’s remorse if they caught you.”

  “Does that mean I should be like them?” Chanter glared at Kieran, his eyes intense. “Compassion is the greatest of all emotions, next to love. Though they tread the path of damnation, I’ll not harm them. Only Marrana can give compassion in death. Only she could free their souls from the stone in which they’re trapped. The Hashon Jahar were her creations, and carried the souls as punishment for their wrongdoings, but ultimately they were destined to be freed. That will not happen now. They’ll suffer until the world ends, then be consigned to oblivion.”

  “They’re evil!”

  “No. There is no evil in this world. They are the misled, the unenlightened, the ones who chose the wrong path, that’s all.”

  Kieran growled in frustration. “Okay, then return and free them as soon as we’ve crossed the mountains, just give us the time to escape them, that’s all.”

  “Perhaps,” Chanter conceded. “I’ll think on it.”

  As he wandered off, Kieran called after him, “Don’t think too long, or it may be too late for the rest of us. You don’t want to harm the damned Torrak Jahar, but you’d let us die!”

  “Kieran!” Talsy frowned at him. “You have no right to speak to him that way. Without him we’d all be dead long ago. You see things differently, but you don’t have the right to question him.”

  “Damn it, he could spare us a lot of suffering if he wished, but he won’t. That’s why Truemen hate Mujar, but I thought that had changed.”

  “Careful,” she warned, “you sound like an unchosen. You don’t know that he won’t do it. I think he will, but while you see the Riders as beastly fiends out to kill us, he sees them as lost children, already suffering for their crimes. Haven’t you learnt anything about Mujar while you’ve been with him?

  “When he broke your wrist to stop you killing the sea creature, he was filled with remorse. Mujar hate to harm others, and by locking up the Torrak Jahar, even for a while, he’ll make them suffer even more. When he releases them, he’ll owe them a debt, and he’ll pay it just like he did with you. He healed the harm he did you and granted you a Wish. Can you imagine what sort of Wish they’ll want?”

  Kieran swung away, torn by conflicting emotions. “By the gods, why must he be like that?”

  “Because he’s Mujar. Don’t you understand him yet?”

  “I do, I just wish he’d change.”

  “He won’t. He can’t. What you’ve asked him to do is no simple thing. If he grants it, he’ll have to make reparations to the Riders for the harm he does them.”

  Kieran kicked a rock in frustration, cursing when he bruised his toes, then lifted his head and stiffened in alarm. A faint thunder of hoof beats drifted on the wind.

  Talsy’s eyes widened, and she jumped up. “Is it them?”

  “Can’t be,” Kieran muttered, “they’re more than a day’s ride behind us.”

  Talsy looked around for Chanter, but he had vanished. The Aggapae stood around the fire they had kindled, staring in the direction of the sound, their expressions tinged with alarm. A mounted party burst from the distant line of trees and thundered towards them, led by a tall man clad in blue and silver. He appeared to be having trouble controlling his big chestnut stallion, which plunged as it fought the bit. The riders who followed were armoured in silver and caparisoned in blue, carrying banners of deep blue edged with yellow. Halfway across the field, the stallion quieted, and the man brought it under control, slowing to a canter. The riders behind him caught up, and the group approached the chosen.

  The leader stopped his horse a few yards away and regarded Kieran with narrowed eyes. Kieran’s hand rested on the hilt of the Starsword. The stranger’s size was obvious, even mounted, and his rich garb of silk and velvet told them that he was a noble. Some of his companions were similarly dressed, while the rest were soldiers, though well armoured and mounted. The leader leant on his pommel and pinned Kieran with cold brown eyes.

  “Well met, Prince,” he said in a deep voice that matched his size. “I had not expected to see you again. And so poorly dressed and guarded, too. How odd.”

  Kieran glanced at Talsy in confusion, but she shrugged, at a loss too. She did, however, take note of the loaded crossbows the nobles carried. The big man gestured to the soldiers, who dismounted and approached Kieran in a threatening manner. Kieran stepped back, gripping the hilt of his sword.

  The big man smiled. “I’d advise you to surrender, or you’ll die. You can’t win against all my men.”

  “What do you want of us?” Kieran asked. “How do you know who I am? I’ve never met you before.”

  “Nice try, but you don’t fool me. You may be in disguise, but I recognise you.”

  “Really?” Kieran scowled. “Just who do you think I am?”

  “I don’t think, I know. I would never forget the face of the man who caused my daughter so much suffering. You haven’t forgotten Merina, have you, Tyrander?”

  Talsy gasped and swayed, raising a hand to her mouth as bile stung her throat. She fought off the dizzy spell while Kieran gaped at the stranger, dumbstruck.

  “He’s not Tyrander,” she said. “He’s Kieran.”

  The man turned to her, his expression softening. “Dear lady, allow me to free you from this monster. From the look of you he’s treated you badly. But you don’t have to defend him now, he can’t hurt you anymore.” He dismounted, standing as tall as Kieran and broader across the shoulders. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m King Ronos of Malatar, and a friend to all who suffer at the hands of men such as him.”

  “But he’s not -”

  Ronos raised a hand. “Please, My Lady, don’t try my patience. I know this man; I’ve met him more than once. Long have I prayed that he might fall into my hands, and the gods have seen fit to answer my prayers at last.”

  Talsy looked around for Chanter, a suspicion forming in her mind. Perhaps the gods had not answered the King’s prayers, but a demigod had, and she wondered at the wisdom of his decision.

  The soldiers divested Kieran of his sword, and he evidently knew better than to try to fight them while the nobles had loaded crossbows at hand.

  Instead, he glared at the King. “I’m not Tyrander; I’m his twin brother, Kieran.”

  “A likely story,” Ronos scoffed. “You’ve dyed that white lock of hair, where the stallion I gave you tried to kill you, and shaved off your beard, but I would know your face anywhere, Prince.”

  “That’s because I’m his identical twin.”

  Ronos frowned. “Why do you persist with this ridiculous story? You have no twin, Tyrander, you never did.”

  “Tyrander’s dead.”

  Ronos gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Not yet. Merina will decide your fate. The vengeance is hers to take. I hope she chooses a painful demise for you. It’s what you deserve after what you did to her.”

  The King’s cold, hateful expression left no doubt about the seriousness of his threat, and a wave of cold despair washed over Talsy. She closed her eyes as the world spun again, then her knees buckled and everything went black.

  Ronos stepped towards Talsy with a startled exclamation, but Kieran imposed himself. “Leave her alone.”

  The soldiers gripped Kieran’s arms and dragged him aside, twisting them behind his back. One produced a leather thong and bound Kieran’s hands. The Aggapae approached, looking concerned but uncertain, and glanced at Kieran for guidance.

  “I’m all ri
ght,” he said. “See to Talsy.”

  Mita knelt beside the girl and lifted her head, patting her cheek.

  The King scowled at Kieran. “What have you done to her, you bastard, and who is she?”

  “I’ve done nothing to harm her. She’s with child, and she’s my wife. It’s your threats against me that cause her such distress.”

  The Aggapae shot Kieran a collective startled look, then returned their attention to Talsy.

  Ronos glared at him. “So, you add the crime of bigamy to your list of heinous deeds. You might have divorced Merina before taking another wife. At least this poor child won’t have to go through what Merina did.”

  “Tyrander was married?” Kieran raised his brows in surprise, then laughed. “Who would have wed that vicious toad? If you gave your daughter to him, you’re a fool. I saw the blackness of his heart the moment I clapped eyes on him, and he did his best to kill me, his brother. I thank the gods he’s dead, but he didn’t perish without causing more trouble than anyone before him ever did.”

  Ronos’ lips twisted in a half smile that bordered on a snarl. “Very clever. You should have been a troubadour. You won’t fool me again, like you did when you courted Merina. Butter wouldn’t have melted in your mouth; you were so sweet and polite. Only after the wedding did you let your true nature show.”

  “What did my brother do to your daughter? Lock her up, like he did my mother?”

  The King swung away to mount his horse. “You know what you did to her, and you’re going to pay for it now, Prince!”

  An insistent patting on her cheek woke Talsy, who sat up groggily and gazed around, taking in the scene. She climbed to her feet with Mita’s help and approached Ronos.

  “Where are you taking him?” she demanded.

  “To my camp for tonight, Princess. Tomorrow we return to my city, where he will pay for his crimes. You and your escort will be seen to. You have nothing more to fear from him.”