Chanter leant against the mantelpiece, watching the fire lick at the logs it fed on. Its warmth soothed him, and his full belly imparted a wealth of well-being. Talsy and Kieran sat at a table, sipped a young wine that an enterprising farmer had cultivated on his land and swapped comments on it. Travain lounged in a deep, overstuffed couch, his green eyes coldly flicking over the peaceful scene.
Chanter had been surprised and unhappy to find the crossbreed lurking in the castle when he had returned from a two-week retreat in the mountains. He rarely left the valley anymore, firstly because he hated to see the horrors outside and secondly because the chosen were safer when he was here to keep order. With the increasing chaos, he had to augment the strength of his wards and laws. He had just completed a circuit of the guarding peaks, placing more marks upon them to renew Mujar laws that faded under the onslaught of the chaos outside.
Chanter straightened as a gust of wind billowed the velvet curtains. Kieran frowned and Talsy glanced up in surprise, Travain sank deeper into his chair. The wind spirit swirled around the room in an icy draught before it calmed and engulfed the Mujar in its cold presence, caressing his skin with frigid fingers. Its soft voice whispered in his ear.
“Greetings, beloved of Life.”
Chanter frowned. “What means this invasion, churlish one?”
“Be not angry, but be glad, I bring news, for your ears to hear.”
“What news is so important that you must come within?”
The wind whispered, “Brother yours, beloved of Life, trapped and beaten far from here. A victim of man, he who gave us hope, now fallen and cries in pain.”
“I have heard you.”
The wind rustled around the room, rippling the curtains with its chill movement, then rushed out through the open window with a soft keening. Chanter turned to find Talsy on her feet, her brows knitted. Travain gazed after the wind with a bemused expression.
“You heard?” Chanter asked her.
She nodded. “What did it mean?”
He stared into the fire again, unable to meet her eyes. “Truemen have captured a Mujar.”
“Another Mujar?” Talsy’s voice rose with excitement, and Kieran looked thunderstruck.
“I thought you were the last,” the Prince muttered.
“Apparently not,” Chanter said, “although I don’t know where he’s been hiding. I’ve searched this continent and found no trace of another.”
“Perhaps he came from one of the other continents?” Talsy suggested.
“He must have.”
“So, where is he? What are we going to do?”
Chanter raised his head. “He’s very far away, over a month’s journey by land. It’s too dangerous to try to do anything.” He shrugged. “He’s a prisoner, undoubtedly trapped by Dolana, and he’ll be in a Pit long before we can reach him.”
Talsy came closer to scrutinise his impassive face. “You’d let them torture one of your own kind, and then throw him in a Pit?”
“Traditionally, Mujar don’t help each other. Our fate is our own, and we cannot be killed. Usually, we aren’t even aware of the fate of others. The winds don’t normally tell us these things.”
“Then why did it?”
“Probably because of the state of the world, and this Mujar must be the only other one still above ground. The wind was angry. It seems that my brother created a haven for himself, like this one, and now it will be destroyed. Even the winds suffer from the chaos.”
“We must save him,” Talsy stated, turning to Kieran for support.
The Prince nodded. “Chanter can guide us. We’ll set out at once.”
“No.”
Talsy swung to glare at the Mujar. “How can you refuse? He’s your own kind, being tortured! Don’t you care?”
“No. It’s hopeless to try, and dangerous. He’ll be in a Pit by the time you get there.”
Talsy paced the room with swift strides. “There must be something we can do! If it’s dangerous for us to travel, it must be dangerous for the people who’ve caught him. Maybe they won’t take him to a Pit, and if they try, they might perish along the way.”
“Then he’ll be free,” Chanter pointed out.
“We must still find him and bring him here, before others catch him.”
“You don’t understand.” Chanter intercepted her and gripped her shoulders, halting her fevered pacing. “The chaos outside is too bad now. You’ll never get there.”
“People are still living out there, so it can’t be that bad!”
“They stay in one place and fight off the chaos. Moving through it is far more dangerous.”
“I don’t care.” She jerked free. “I’m going to get him, alone if necessary, though I’m sure many will want to help.” She looked at Kieran, who nodded. She added, “You may not care what happens to him, but I do. I won’t sit here and let him suffer. You could fly there and free him in a few hours, if you wanted to.”
“No I couldn’t,” Chanter denied. “I could get there quickly, yes, but I couldn’t free him, more likely I’d get caught too. They’ll have guards with him. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Then I’ll go with whoever will come with me,” she said. “I won’t try to make you do something you don’t want to. Stay here, in your safe valley, if you wish.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t let you go unprotected.”
“Kieran will protect me. He has the Starsword.”
“That won’t be enough to fight the chaos.”
Talsy glanced at her son. “Travain?”
A hush fell as they all looked at the sullen crossbreed. Travain’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to help you?”
Talsy nodded. “You like to use your powers. You’ll be able to out there, as much as you want.”
His lip curled. “If I wanted to go out there and use my powers, I’d have done it already. Why should I?”
“Because I’m asking you to.”
He sniggered. “I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”
Kieran took a step towards the crossbreed, his hand clearly itching to slap Travain’s sneering face, but Talsy stopped him, shaking her head.
“Leave him. We don’t need him. He’d probably try to kill us anyway.” She turned back to the Mujar. “We’ll gather some men and set out at first light tomorrow.”
“You’re really going to brave the chaos, ride all the way to the eastern shore with a handful of chosen, all to rescue a Mujar?” Chanter asked, clearly puzzled.
“Yes.” Talsy raised her chin. “I’d do it for you.”
“As I would for you, but for a stranger?”
“He’s not just a stranger; he’s Mujar, maybe the only one other than you left in the world. We have to try to help him.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re the chosen, and when the gods tested me, one of the tests was whether I would help other Mujar, not only you. Perhaps this is another test, to see if I’d give up my safe haven to go out into the chaos and save a Mujar. Perhaps when I do, they’ll restore the staff.”
Chanter murmured, “You’d risk your life on such a slight possibility?”
“What good is my life, stuck here, waiting for the end? If there’s the tiniest chance that this might change fate, I’ll take it. Mujar may be content to sit on a rock all day and stare into space, but Truemen need challenges, and hope. Without them, we may as well already be dead.”
She gestured at the startled crossbreed. “My son has turned out to be the monster you both predicted he would be. Everything I’ve done has been a failure, and my being chosen hasn’t saved the world. What do I have to lose? What do I have to live for? Unrequited love? The sneering of my misbegotten offspring? No!”
She swung and thumped a table, making everyone jump at the sudden bang. A vase wobbled and fell off with a crash. “I won’t sit here and wait for the world to die! If I perish, it makes no difference now. I don’t care what you say, you can’t stop me! The staff has
lain in that damned room for six years, gathering dust. The gods aren’t going to restore the laws, they never intended to. I’d rather die in the chaos then grow old with the memories and guilt of my mistakes.”
After several moments of stunned silence, Chanter stepped in front of her and gazed into her eyes. “Your love,” he murmured, “is not unrequited, and your mistakes are few and blameless.” He took her hands. “I set aside this valley for you because you deserve it, and I won’t desert you now. If you’re determined to find this other Mujar, I’ll help you. I can’t let you die.”
Aware of Kieran watching them with bitter eyes, she stifled the urge to fling her arms around Chanter’s neck and hug him. Instead she smiled and nodded. “Gratitude.”
The Prince turned and strode out, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll go and see how many will join us.”
Chapter Seven
Talsy stopped on the crest of a hill and stared back at the long column of horsemen strung out behind her. Never had she dreamt that almost every Aggapae warrior would want to come, and several of the chosen. They had listened to the warnings about the chaos with blank, stubborn faces, and Jesher had assured her that every horse that came did so because he or she wished to. Nort had no need to stay with the mares, since they were not breeding, and almost the entire bachelor herd, apart from a few oldsters, had left the valley with them. Four hundred warriors had ridden out with twenty pack horses carrying provisions, for Chanter had warned that there was little food in the chaos. The Aggapae dressed in their battle finery, bright feathers and ribbons sprigging their hair and armour. Their spears bore the long silken banners of the valley, as well as their own battle flags.
Each day they faced a new danger, and wore their war paint to confront it. Already they had lost five warriors and two horses to the chaos, killed by its beasts or sudden treachery. Chanter flew above, leading them on the safest route and bypassing dangerous areas. Even so, several times the lead rider’s horse had broken through a thin crust and fallen into a sucking quagmire of oily sludge. The Aggapae had used ropes to pull man and horse free each time, but this unseen enemy that lurked beneath their feet sapped their morale.
They had passed through areas that looked like visions of Hell, and others that appeared merely barren, but everywhere hung the stench of decay and the electric tension of impending doom. They avoided dark forests whence strange sounds and smells wafted, following a torturous route between the remaining patches of trees. It was far safer in the open, where danger could be seen from afar, and Chanter could guard them from the air. Still, there was no true safety. Everything they encountered had to be regarded as a potential threat, no matter how innocuous it seemed.
The chaos struck with chilling suddenness each time it attacked, sometimes heralded by the scream of a swooping daltar eagle as Chanter gave warning. Weird beasts rose out of mud pits, so perfectly camouflaged that no one had suspected their presence, not even the horses. Huge winged manants swooped down on them, most falling as Chanter’s fire burnt their wings. The Mujar strived to protect the chosen, causing unprecedented harm to their foes, although never killing. By robbing the manants of flight, he allowed the chosen to escape, and Talsy soon realised that without him, they would have been dead within the first week.
The nervous tension sapped everyone’s strength, and watches of fifty men took turns during the night to repel attacks by chaos beasts and sometimes the land itself. During the second week, a thunderstorm unleashed a rain of fire. Chanter took control of the elements and swept the storm away, saving them from serious harm, although all were burnt slightly. The next day it rained frogs, and the day after that, fish, which they gathered for food, but found inedible.
The Mujar warned them to eat nothing of the chaos, and even the horses ate ground maize and oats the pack animals carried. The lack of clean water presented a greater problem, since they could not carry vast amounts of it, and there was little to be found in the chaos. Each time they encountered a rivulet or pond, they called Chanter down to test it, and usually he found it to be poison. Sometimes they would travel for days on short water rations, passing streams and ponds they could not drink.
One night, a river of mud had washed two men and a horse away, never to be seen again. The roar of its coming had warned them, but two had not escaped the wall of liquid soil that had thundered down the gulley in which they sheltered. Another three men had died fighting chaos beasts, and many more would have perished if Chanter had not healed them. For two days, they rode through a rain of ash, which turned everything grey. The sooty clouds blotted out the sun, engulfing them in a weird twilight world that occasional flashes of pink lightning illuminated. Some of the things they encountered were merely unpleasant, like an area of ground that gave off vast muddy bubbles that rose into the air and burst, releasing a terrible foetor. The Mujar who rode the winds high above made sure they avoided the worst perils, however. Sometimes he would veer far from their course, leading them around some danger they never saw, and nor would he speak of it.
At times, when they lighted the campfires at night the flames gave off no heat, other times the fire burnt into the ground and vanished, leaving a blackened hole. Once they rode into a pocket of deadly air, and all were forced to gallop madly to escape it, while Chanter drew good air in from ahead. The Mujar avoided towns, so they saw none of the people who survived the chaos shut away within their cities’ walls. They encountered a mountain of ice sprouting from the earth like a great white fang, and on another day, a giant waterspout that vanished into the sky. Sometimes burning clouds drifted above like the flaming galleons of hellish gods. There seemed no end to the weirdness and monstrosities they encountered, some fascinating, most dangerous.
All these things they had already seen, and the journey was only half over. For two weeks they had travelled, and another two weeks lay ahead, then a month to return. Talsy shivered. The weather was as unpredictable as everything else, at times unbearably hot, then turning bitterly cold in an instant. The scout who rode ahead came cantering back, his face pale and his spear gripped in a white-knuckled hand. He stopped beside Kieran, who rode with Jesher and Talsy.
“We’ll have to turn back,” the scout announced. “We can’t continue. The land ahead... is on fire.”
Talsy glanced up at the speck that was Chanter. “Why didn’t he warn us?”
Kieran grunted. “Who knows? Let’s have a look.”
Jesher led them at a canter to the brow of the next hill, where they gazed upon an amazing vista. As far as the eye could see, the land burnt with brilliant red-gold fire. Trees and rocks, soil and grass dwelt beneath the sea of flame, yet nothing appeared harmed by it. Talsy slid off her chestnut mare and approached the edge of the fire, Kieran following. No heat came from it, and she bent to run her hand through the bright flames, pulling it back unharmed.
“It doesn’t burn.”
Kieran muttered, “But what’s to say it won’t start?”
“If it was dangerous, he would have warned us.”
The Prince glanced up at the hovering Mujar. “I hope he’s right. Nothing’s predictable here.”
They set out across the burning land, the horses high-stepping nervously until they got used to the strange phenomenon. The flames crept up the animals’ legs until it engulfed the riders too, licking harmlessly over their skin. It took two days to cross the burning land, and most found it difficult to sleep amid the flames at night. When they emerged from the fire, they encountered a boiling lake, steam rising from it in a great column, its shores littered with cooked fish. Beyond the lake, they traversed a field of white bones, and after that a rolling landscape covered with knobs of growing rock, thrusting up in weird shapes like stone sentinels.
They crossed a salty stream flowing uphill and a ragged chasm whose depths glowed with sullen fire. Chanter used the tainted Dolana as little as possible. Its touch sickened him, and each time he was forced to use it, he looked pale and drawn afterwards. Thus, when they
came to a river of lava, they were forced to delay until it cooled enough to walk across. They rode around a sickly forest that exuded dark malevolence and waded through a sucking bog of stinking mud instead.
At the end of the third week, a man woke screaming one morning, his legs engulfed by living rock. It took Chanter over an hour to free him, after which the Mujar vomited. Two days later, the land gave way beneath a group of riders, sending ten men and their horses screaming to certain death at the bottom of a yawning cavern too deep to plumb. Mourning the loss of their friends, they journeyed on, only to be attacked the next day by a band of fifty starving brigands mounted on fierce, skinny manhorses.
Chanter remained aloft while Kieran laid about him with the Starsword, burning the marauders until they fled. Three Aggapae fell to the bandits’ sharp wooden spears, two of whom Chanter healed, and one died instantly. After that, they crossed a land spotted with gulping wet mouths that sucked and spouted water each time they snapped shut. Just when Talsy thought she had seen it all, they came across two huge, gaunt chaos beasts locked in a titanic struggle. They gripped each other with toothy jaws, and their hot red eyes glared hatred as they wrestled mightily. The chosen gave them a wide berth, although Talsy was sure the animals were too engrossed in their battle to pay the Truemen any heed.
Finally, they arrived at a little wood apparently untouched by the chaos, whose trees offered dappled shade and lush greenness lured the horses into its inviting verdure. Chanter descended and entered the forest first, beckoning them in after a few minutes. Talsy sighed as she entered the bastion of sanity, sensing the calm purity of the tiny realm. The horses dropped their heads to graze, and weary riders slid from their backs to lie on the soft grass and revel in its safety. Talsy, Kieran, and Jesher gathered around Chanter as he squatted.
“This is my brother’s haven, where he lived until they took him,” he explained.
“So where is he now?” Talsy asked.
“A few hours walk away, in a city. I say we rest here a day before we go there.”
Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law Page 12