Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law

by Southwell, T C

  Kieran scowled as the Mujar leapt into the air and transformed, sailing away on broad wings. “If only he’d burn the bastards.”

  “You know he can’t.” Talsy gazed at the approaching dust, which was much closer now, the Torrak Jahar moving at a gallop. “And I’m glad Mujar don’t kill. Imagine if they did, what havoc they could wreak.”

  “And how much protection he could give us.”

  “And what guilt he’d have to live with.”

  “Hey,” Kieran protested, “I’ve had to kill, but I don’t feel guilty about it. The bastards deserved to die. It was me or them. He’d let them slaughter us rather than kill them.”

  “No, I think he’d sacrifice himself first.”

  “Well, he can’t be killed.”

  She shot him a hard look. “He can suffer. Indefinite suffering is worse than death.”

  Talsy watched the eagle fly towards the Ghost Riders and swerve as he neared them, leading them away. The Torrak Jahar followed the raptor that swooped tantalisingly close, dipped its wings and flapped lazily. It was lucky that Torrak Jahar did not use arrows, Talsy mused, smiling a little as Chanter floated safely in the sky, leading the Riders on a merry dance of futile pursuit. Kieran turned away to signal to the Aggapae, and the warriors started to move off, away from the Torrak Jahar.

  Talsy lingered, her eyes following the distant winged shape that sailed the dull skies with consummate ease. Just as she was about to turn away and follow the others, the eagle staggered in the air, its wings folding, and fell, flapping weakly. Talsy’s cry of horror made everyone turn, and her next was drowned out by the great shout of anguish that went up from the Aggapae. Chanter’s wings spread again, and he flapped slowly, gaining a little altitude, but the Torrak Jahar pursued him with single-minded ferocity. The eagle staggered again, hit by a missile invisible to the chosen who watched with horrified eyes. The bird glided, losing altitude. The Torrak Jahar, it seemed, had learnt to use arrows.

  Talsy cried out in anguish and kicked her mare into a gallop towards the Torrak Jahar. Kieran’s shout was lost in the roar the Aggapae gave as they thundered in her wake, sweeping him with them. Three hundred warriors charged across the blackened land, raising a cloud of dust equal to that of the Torrak Jahar. Banners and battle flags snapped in the wind as they raced after the slim figure on the chestnut mare, a brave, and in Kieran’s opinion, unbelievably stupid girl.

  The eagle hit the ground in a puff of dust and transformed. Chanter leapt to his feet and yanked the two arrows from his chest. In a flash of tainted Dolana he vanished, and a black stallion sprang into a wild gallop, still striving to lead the Torrak Jahar away. Chanter ran with difficulty, blood running down his forelegs from the wounds in his chest. The Torrak Jahar closed on him rapidly, gaining with every stride, and the Aggapae thundered after them.

  The tales she had heard about the Torrak Jahar hammered in Talsy’s brain. They had never been beaten in a pitched battle. In the open, they were invincible, and their touch was death. Her terror warred with her desperate need to reach Chanter and protect him somehow, stand beside him when all else failed and die fighting for him. Nothing else mattered, for her life would not be worth living if he was taken from her.

  Chanter crumpled as his forelegs gave way, ploughing into the hard black ground in a cloud of dust. She gave a cry of horror, lashing her mare to greater speed. Kieran drew the Starsword and pointed it over the outstretched neck of his galloping horse.

  “Fire!”

  A Torrak Jahar fell, its glowing form slumping into a long pool of magma. He burnt two more in quick succession, making no dent in the numbers that bore down on the fallen Mujar. Chanter resumed man shape as he turned to face his worst enemies, trying to rise to his feet. Blue fire exploded in front of the charging riders, but they leapt through it, ignoring the fierce flames in their eagerness to reach their prize. Chanter raised his hands defensively as they reached him, but their steeds crashed into him, sending him sprawling on the black dust. Some stopped beside him, the rest turned to meet the Aggapae’s charge. The gap between them closed with horrifying speed, now that the riders had stopped, and Talsy’s heart leapt into her mouth as she bore down on their implacable forms, glimpsing their glowing yellow eyes. The terror they always inspired turned her blood to ice, and her mare swung away from the black wall bristling with lances and swords.

  The two armies came together with a tremendous crash. Weapons clashed and horses fell with terrible screams as they slammed into the unyielding black steeds. Many did not rise, impaled by long lances or crippled by broken limbs. The Aggapae fought with a fury born of desperation and hate, but their spears snapped against their foes’ stone armour. The Torrak Jahar vented hissing laughter as they slew the warriors.

  Talsy, at the forefront of the charge, was flung clear by a steed’s hard shoulder. Her mare went down in a flurry of legs, rolled over and scrambled up again. Talsy lay gasping, too stunned to do anything but watch the horror of the battle. Kieran wielded the Starsword in wild, desperate swings, and many Torrak Jahar fell to its fire, but the rest took a terrible toll on the Aggapae, pulled them from their horses and drained their life with swift practiced moves, their victims shrieking as they died.

  Bruised and shaken, Talsy rose and staggered towards the Mujar, not knowing what she was going to do, only that she had to reach him. Chanter knelt within a circle of dismounted riders who prodded him with their swords, leaping back when he lashed out with blue fire. They sniggered, toying with him, and blood from a dozen cuts reddened his arms and chest. The Torrak Jahar’s yellow eyes glowed in faces twisted with sneers of contempt and triumph as they laughed and hissed.

  “Caught us one, didn’t we?” one grated.

  “Endless life, at our mercy,” another agreed.

  “Stupid Mujar. All that power, and he won’t kill,” a third scoffed.

  The taunting riders held Chanter’s attention utterly. His eyes darted from one to another to find where the next threat would come from, so he could counter it with fire. His stand was hopeless, and he obviously knew it, but, since he was too injured to fly, all he could do was delay the inevitable for as long as possible. He did not seem to have noticed Talsy’s arrival, for the battle’s clamour and his captors’ jibes drowned out her soft approach.

  Talsy stumbled closer. “Chanter!”

  He spun, his eyes widening. “No! Go back! Talsy, run!”

  Talsy stopped, confused by conflicting urges to reach him and at the same time flee from the Torrak Jahar. Some of the Riders turned towards her, raising their swords, their gruesome faces evoking the terrible fear that froze her gut. Never had she been so afraid as when the sickly light of their glowing eyes rested upon her. Icy tendrils of terror gripped her heart and made it pound painfully, her scalp prickled and her blood chilled. She stopped, knowing in that instant what it was to be a rabbit pinned by the sharp eyes of a hungry fox.

  The air swelled with the prickling tension of Mujar power. Black dust danced in little whirling eddies, accompanied by the sound of beating wings as Chanter invoked Ashmar. This time he called upon a storm’s wild power, and the wind rose around them, tugged at her hair, blinded her with stinging dust and pushed her away. Two Riders sauntered towards her, ignoring the rising storm Chanter summoned.

  With amazing speed, a vortex of spinning wind formed above him, swirling the brown clouds into a tempest. The earth bucked, sending her staggering back, and the tornado descended above the kneeling Mujar. A Torrak Jahar stepped up behind him and struck him savagely across the back of the head. Chanter crumpled, and the wind howled away, shredding the clouds. The tornado died as swiftly as it had been born.

  “No!” Talsy sobbed, stepping forward.

  All her hope vanished at that moment. Chanter lay like a broken doll, discarded in the dirt by a spoilt child who had tired of playing with him. Black dust settled on his skin and hair, and blood seeped down his cheek in a narrow crimson line. To Talsy it seemed impossible that s
o powerful a creature could be vanquished so easily, his power snuffed out with a single blow. Even the humble Aggapae were not so easily defeated, for they fought on behind her. The din of the battle seemed unabated, yet Chanter’s fight was over because he would not kill, not even to save himself. Despair gripped her heart as she stared at the approaching Riders, reading her death in their pitiless eyes. Everything she and Chanter had striven for seemed doomed.

  A shadow passed over her, making her glance up. A daltar eagle swooped down with a piercing scream and landed in front of her. A rush of wind kicked up the dust again, and a man clad in a silver-studded black jerkin, a pale green shirt and scuffed brown trousers faced the Torrak Jahar, blocking their advance. The riders sniggered, and the invocation of fire slammed down in a raging illusory inferno. The Riders ignored it, continuing towards him. The stranger lifted his hands.

  Blue fire exploded from his fingers and ripped into the Torrak Jahar with a roaring crackle. The Riders staggered back, raised warping arms to claw at the inferno and grimaced with surprise and horror. They turned ruby-red and slumped into lava pools aglow with the souls trapped in them. The steeds sagged, and the fire leapt to the Riders who stood over Chanter. As they melted, the man swung to face the battle, his arms extended. His fire razed the Riders, reducing them to puddles of lava in moments.

  The Aggapae leapt away from their former foes, raising their arms to ward off the heat. Their skins reddened and blistered, and their hair crisped. The fire leapt from Rider to Rider, guided by its wielder’s will. Kieran glanced around as his horse shied from the spreading pools of glowing rock, and retreated with the rest to a safe distance. Talsy stared at the man’s back, stunned by this unheard of act by one who could only be Mujar. As the last of the Torrak Jahar sagged, the man lowered his arms and turned to face her.

  She gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “Travain!”

  His lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Now we’re even, Mother.” He spat the last word.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You gave me life, when others were against it. Not that I’m grateful, but you did. You brought this monster into the world, and now this monster has repaid that debt.”

  “Wait!” Talsy sprang after him as Travain turned away. The air swelled, and she cried, “Travain! Drummer, wait!”

  He swung around. “Stop using that damned name!”

  “Please.” She held out her hands. “Don’t be angry. Don’t hate me for what I did to you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I was wrong, and you’ve paid for my mistake. But right now, I thank the gods that you were born.”

  “Because he can’t kill!” Travain shouted, stabbing a finger at Chanter. “But I can! That makes me a monster in your eyes, yet he would have let you die! Now you see what Mujar power can do, and I don’t have a fraction of his! Why doesn’t he use it? Why didn’t he save you? Why did he never love me?”

  Travain’s words revealed a lost little boy in an adult body who could not understand why his father did not love him. She reached him in two strides and gripped his arms, hanging on when he tried to pull away. Anguish and unshed tears filled his eyes, and she realised that, for all his size and apparent maturity, Travain was only six. His Trueman psyche had not kept pace with his Mujar growth.

  “Oh, Travain.” She stroked his hair. “He does love you, he always has. He just can’t show it. He can’t touch you. It’s a Mujar thing. I don’t understand it, but it’s true.”

  “He can touch you!”

  “I’m Trueman; you’re half Mujar.”

  “He touched me once, when I was little. I remember!”

  “Yes, and you hurt him.”

  “I did?” Travain stared at her, turning his back on the Aggapae, who were busy with their wounded and paid him no heed.

  Talsy cursed her own stupidity. After Travain’s first act of violence, she had spent long hours explaining what he was and how he should behave, but had not explained what his father was, or why he avoided his crossbreed son. Then again, she did not really know, and the enormity of her omission weighed heavily on her conscience.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t realise what you needed. He can’t understand your needs, he’s Mujar.”

  “He never loved me! He thinks I’m a monster, and so do you!”

  “No, we don’t think that, I swear it.”

  “He didn’t want me!”

  She shook her head. “He’s Mujar. They don’t raise their children like we do. It’s not because of you! Please, try to understand, your father simply doesn’t know how to be a father. I’ll try to explain it to you, or I’ll get him to, but not now.” She gazed into his confused, angry eyes. “We need your help. Will you heal the wounded?”

  Travain glanced around. “They hate me too.”

  “No one hates you. They’re afraid of you, so show them that they’re wrong.”

  “Why should I?” A sneer crept back into his tone.

  “Why did you save me and your father? Because you’re not a bad person, although you’ve tried hard to convince us that you are. Do it for me.”

  Travain nodded, still looking mutinous and a little uncertain. After years of sullenness and deliberate bad behaviour sparked by his encounter with his father five years ago, doing good deeds did not come easily to him. Talsy released him and hurried over to Chanter. Kieran knelt beside him, and glanced up at her approach.

  “He’s out cold. That thing must have hit him hard enough to crack his skull.”

  “We need water.”

  Kieran nodded and left to find some. Talsy jumped when she became aware of Travain standing beside her, frowning down at his father. Chanter lay curled on his side, blood oozing from the back of his head. Travain stepped closer, but Talsy held him back.

  “No, stay away from him, at least until we know why.”

  His scowl deepened. “He held three Powers when they hit him. Earth, wind and fire. He could have obliterated them with a flick of his fingers. Why didn’t he?”

  “Because he’s Mujar.”

  “I can barely hold two at once, and then I can’t do anything with them.”

  Talsy smiled and patted his shoulder, awkward with him after so many years of bitter estrangement. “He can control all four with ease. Perhaps he’ll teach you how.”

  He shook his head. “No, he won’t. I kill.”

  “In this instance, I’m very glad you can.”

  “He’ll hate me for it.”

  “No he won’t. You saved us all.”

  Kieran came back with two water skins, kneeling beside Chanter again. Talsy took the second skin and handed it to Travain. “Go and heal the wounded.”

  Travain stared at it, his brow still wrinkled in a deep frown. For a moment she thought that he would refuse, but then he turned and headed for the Aggapae.

  Chanter convulsed as Kieran poured water over his head, and Talsy tore her eyes from him to watch her son. Travain approached the wounded Aggapae, who regarded him with deep distrust. His black scowl was not reassuring, but when he poured water on their wounds and touched them, they healed. She turned back to Kieran as he sat Chanter up to free him from the Dolana.

  Kieran jerked his chin at Travain. “What’s with him?”

  “He’s not as bad as we all thought.” She knelt and wiped the blood from Chanter’s cheek. “I’ve been a fool. I never realised what he really needed. Imagine being the son of a demigod and thinking your father didn’t love you.”

  “That’s his whole problem?”

  Talsy nodded, her eyes stinging. “Chanter’s only touched him once, and that was to punish him. He wants his father to love him, that’s all. But Chanter won’t go near him, like he won’t go near the young Mujar, and I don’t know why.”

  “And that’s why he’s been such a shit?”

  “He’s been hurting, all his life. Hell, he’s only six. He’s still a little boy.” She shook her head. “He looks like a man, so we treated him like one. But al
l his pranks and sullenness were a cry for attention. He wanted Chanter to notice him, but all we did was shun him.”

  Kieran muttered, “Harsh.” He glanced over at the boy, who received tentative pats on the back from his patients. “Chanter’s going to eat crow now.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Chanter doesn’t understand him any more than he understands his father.”

  “By the gods, you’ve got a real crackpot family.”

  She smiled. “But he saved us all. He couldn’t let us die.”

  Kieran looked at the cooling puddles of lava that surrounded them, still exuding fierce heat that made them sweat. “He sure didn’t mess around.”

  Talsy shuddered. “Let’s move him away from here.”

  “I’ve got him.” Kieran scooped up the Mujar and strode away to set him down where the air was cool. “I hope he wakes up. We don’t need two comatose Mujar.”

  “Well, at least we’ve got Travain.”

  “If he stays.”

  “He’s been with us all along,” she said. “How else could he have got here so fast when we needed him?”

  “And Chanter didn’t know?”

  “Apparently not. If he did, he didn’t say anything to me.”

  The Prince went to help heal the wounded with the Starsword, and Talsy stayed with Chanter. When the injured were all healed, they made camp a short distance from the battleground. The Aggapae summoned and unloaded the pack horses, which had stayed away from the battle. They placed the young Mujar on a pile packs, and Chanter on another. The Aggapae set to work digging graves for the fallen, washing and arranging the dead for burial in solemn silence.

  Many more riderless horses neighed their loss to the uncaring winds, while others whinnied for lost companions of their own race. Sixty-seven riders and twenty-two horses had died in the battle, a heavy toll for such a brief skirmish. Returning to the battlefield, Talsy found Shan weeping beside a body, comforted by a grim Brin. The dead warrior was Taff, a long-time friend of both. She left them to mourn and searched for Travain, whom she found standing alone, watching the men work.