Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law

by Southwell, T C

  "Tell me more about young Mujar."

  Talsy turned to Chanter, who gazed into the gathering dusk. They camped at the edge of a dark pine forest, where it bordered a rolling meadow dotted with flowers. At the centre of the valley, a stream chuckled over mossy stones. During the last month, they had travelled far from the mountains, the peaks now blue in the distance. The horses had regained their strength on the lush grass, allowing the chosen to ride. They had passed fortified Trueman cities, their walls made from mighty trees. Twice chaos beasts had attacked them, but the Mujar had driven them away with fire. Now they sat together on the grass, away from the camp where the rest of the chosen cooked and talked.

  Chanter turned to look at her. "Why?"

  She grinned, clearly hardly able to keep from shouting her joy to the world.

  "You're with child?"

  Talsy nodded and flung her arms around his neck, bowling him over. "Isn't it wonderful!"

  "No. Talsy, you must -"

  "No!" She clamped a hand over his mouth. "Don't spoil this for me with your predictions of gloom and doom, okay? I'm happy. This is what I want, and you're not going to change my mind, understand?"

  Chanter nodded, and she removed her hand to hug him, cuddling close to him on the grass. He stared up at the stars that were starting to appear in the darkening sky and wondered why Lowmen were so stupid. Why a young girl like Talsy would want to insult her body and court death by conceiving a half alien child was beyond him. In the clan, unwed women had courted him for weeks with tasty food, cakes and sweets in the hope of being granted a Wish. On occasion he had, when the debt had grown large enough. The experience was pleasurable, he found, though not as fulfilling as the Ishmak plant. It was a small Wish, requiring no use of his powers, and the women had gone on courting him for the Wish again and again.

  Talsy propped herself up on one elbow and shook him. "So, tell me about our son."

  Becoming aware of Dolana's cold seeping into him, he sat up. "What do you want to know?"

  "Everything."

  "I can only tell you about young Mujar, I don't know what your child will be like."

  She shrugged. "That's okay, I know about Trueman children, so I'll figure it out."

  He sighed and shook his head. "Mujar have no memory of their birth until they encounter an Ishmak plant again. Then the memories come back, but they're still hazy. By the time they're about two months old they've shed the Ishmak's seeds, and the silk comes off. By then they're almost full grown, but their hair is golden, and they're naked. At this time a juvenile Mujar usually has his first experience of his powers, brought on by some accident that harms him.

  "If he's lucky, the cause of the pain is something inanimate, like a fall. The pain makes him invoke a Power, usually Crayash, and this terrifies him. Fortunately, the first summoning of the element is not that strong, and whatever caused the pain often escapes serious injury. I had my first experience while I was playing with a dire bear. He was my friend from before I can remember, but one day the play got too rough and he clouted me hard.

  "The fire singed him and sent him galloping away in one direction while I ran in the other. I didn't stop for two days, I was so afraid of it." He sighed, frowning. "A juvenile Mujar then enters a fear stage, where he hides from the world, runs away a lot, and spends much of his time cowering under bushes or in caves. He avoids any contact with animals for fear of harming them, bolting from anything that moves."

  "The golden men!" Talsy exclaimed, and he looked at her in confusion.

  "Golden men?"

  "Yes! It's one of the Trueman theories on the origins of Mujar. Some people have seen strange, shy golden men hiding in the forest, who run away when they see people. They believed that these men bred with the wild women who were driven away from villages when they got qulang disease, and their children were Mujar."

  Chanter shook his head. "Not even an adult Mujar can get near a juvenile, never mind touch him. They would never come close to mad Lowman women."

  "I know, but you've just solved a mystery that has plagued Truemen for centuries. The golden men are Mujar juveniles."

  He nodded. "They are, but this stage does not last long. After another month they change again, start sprouting their adult hair and become aware that they can control their powers. After some experimentation, they master them, and after that they're safe. Their hunger abates when the black hair sprouts, ending their juvenile stage, and their growth."

  "That's it?"

  Chanter sighed. "What more do you want to know? They usually wander in the wilderness for several years before finding a Trueman city and becoming beggars of comforts. The rest you know."

  "They're fully grown in three months?"

  "They're almost fully grown when they emerge."

  She hugged her knees and smiled. "I thought of a name. What do you think of Javon?"

  "Ah, I neglected to mention that Mujar know their names."

  "Oh. Well, that's okay, I guess. He might not, since he won't be pure."

  Chanter gazed at her with deep sorrow, wishing he could shake some sense into her but knowing that it would not work. He had been present at one messy, bloody Lowman birth in the clan, pressed into service carrying bowls of hot water for the shaman. The woman's screams had made his skin crawl, and he had left as soon as he was allowed, unable to stomach the pain. Hours later, he had watched the proud father parade his new son through the village, a tiny, blood-stained bundle of squalling purple-faced flesh. He had been amazed to find the woman still alive, let alone tending to her husband's comforts mere hours after the birth. The thought of Talsy suffering that way made him shudder, and he jumped up, ignoring her startled query. He strode away, but stopped when she grabbed his arm, swinging him to face her.

  "What's wrong?"

  He frowned. "Don't ask me what's wrong when you don't want to hear the answer. Just because you don't wish me to talk about it doesn't mean I can't feel it. And don't expect me to share your joy."

  Jerking his arm from her grip, he took a few light steps and leapt into the air, summoning Ashmar with a rush of wind. Transforming into a grey owl, he rose on soft pinions and flew into the darkness.

  Talsy glared after him, longing to shout something appropriate, but nothing sprang to mind. Why did he have to be so pessimistic? He did not know for certain that this child would threaten her life, and she was sure it would not. Who could she talk to, if not him? It was his child, and he should share her joy. She marched to the camp and flopped down by the fire, accepted a bowl of food from Shan and ignored Kieran's curious look. The Aggapae sensed her mood and retired to their tents, leaving her to finish her food with only Kieran for company.

  Annoyed, she demanded, "Shouldn't you be sleeping too?"

  "Someone has to stand watch until Chanter returns."

  "He's around."

  "You had a fight with him?"

  "That's none of your business." The thought of Kieran's fury at her pregnancy prompted her to continue, "But actually, we did."

  He looked surprised at her confiding such a thing in him, and raised his brows. "What about?"

  Talsy smiled. Kieran had predicted that she would not succeed in getting a child from the Mujar, and she had proven him wrong. The Prince would not be pleased with her news, and annoying him always seemed to give her some perverse satisfaction. Perhaps it was his solid Trueman attraction, so unlike the Mujar's beauty, or the way he understood her when Chanter did not. Maybe it was because he wanted her, and she longed for Chanter to feel like that.

  "I'm going to have his child," she announced.

  Kieran stared at her as if she had just informed him that she was flying to the moon tomorrow. "You're what?"

  "You heard me."

  "You're having Chanter's child? Are you mad?"

  "No." She grinned. "Actually I'm very happy about it."

  "And he's obviously not."

  Her grin faded. "He'll come around."

  "I doubt that." Kie
ran muttered, scowling. "So, your little charm worked, did it? Or did you talk him into it?"

  "The charm worked."

  "You tricked him."

  "In a manner of speaking."

  Kieran leant forward, his black eyes burning under low dark brows. "You stupid little fool! Why is he so upset? Because you tricked him or because you're pregnant?"

  "Because I'm pregnant, and I'm not stupid or a fool. This child will be the most wonderful ever born into this world."

  "He doesn't think so, does he?"

  She shrugged, a little unsure. "He says it will kill me, but he's wrong."

  The Prince looked sick and lowered his eyes to the flames. "Mujar are seldom wrong. Did he tell you this before or after you lay with him?"

  "After. He didn't know about the charm."

  "Nor did he know to what depths a woman will stoop to get what she wants. I warned him about the charm, but he didn't think it would work."

  She bridled. "It's not just what I want, it's what this world needs."

  "Oh, sure, that's all this world needs, another crossbreed. Another abomination. Another poor twisted creature to die when the staff is restored."

  Pain stabbed her heart. "He won't. He'll be undying!"

  "I wouldn't be too sure of that. When you mix opposites, you never know what will happen. Sometimes they cancel each other out and become nothing, other times they blow up in your face."

  "You're just jealous!"

  "Jealous? How can a man be jealous of a Mujar? He has no feelings for you. He never wanted you as a woman and he never will. You're his precious First Chosen, worthy of saving because you had all the qualities his gods were looking for. But you just had to have him, didn't you? The very fact that he wasn't interested made you determined to get him somehow, and you did. Well done. I feel sorry for him, falling into the clutches of a scheming woman like you. But luckily for him, he's Mujar, and he can fly away whenever he likes, because he has no emotional ties, not with you or your child!"

  "How dare you?" Talsy said, incensed. "You don't know a thing about it!"

  "But I do. Unlike Chanter, I understand you perfectly. You've stolen from him what he wouldn't give, pretending he's something he isn't and feels something he doesn't. He's Mujar. Having his child won't make him love you, he's not capable of it!"

  "That's not why I did it!" She bit her lip, a worm of doubt nibbling at her mind.

  "Then why did you?"

  "Because he won't always stay with me. He's too wild, he has to be free to be happy and I won't deny him that. I want a part of him to love, a child who won't leave me. His child." Her eyes stung, and she blinked the tears away.

  "And you're assuming that a half Mujar child will be capable of loving you. He could be as flighty as his father, then where will you be? That's if the staff doesn't kill him, or he doesn't kill you!"

  "Leave me alone!" Talsy covered her face and wept.

  Kieran stood up, filled with remorse and an overwhelming urge to comfort her. He wanted to apologise and tell her that he was just concerned for her and angry at her foolishness. Instead, he swung away and marched into the darkness, terrible visions of what this child might do to her plaguing him. Why did he have to fall in love with a girl who was in love with a Mujar, and whose determination to have him would drive her to any lengths? He stopped and thumped a tree, then rested his forehead against its rough bark, wishing that he could banish the stupid girl from his heart.

  All these months, he had hoped that she would realise that her love for Chanter was doomed and turn to him. He had thought that she was attracted to him, but perhaps he had been fooling himself. Even if she was, she would never allow it to grow into anything stronger. Instead, she clung to her love for an alien creature who would bring her only unhappiness; a foolish dream that someday the Mujar would return her feelings.

  A whisper of wings made him turn as a grey owl landed on the pine needles that covered the forest floor. In a rush of wind, it became Chanter. The Mujar glanced around at the camp, then studied the Prince.

  "You're angry."

  Kieran leant against the tree and shook his head. "Yes, but not with you. I can't believe she's been so stupid."

  "Yes."

  "She tricked you."

  Chanter nodded. "She used the one thing against which I had no defence. I cannot even offer her Regret."

  "She doesn't want your regret, she has what she wants. She thinks she's won, and you'll want to stay with her now that she's having your child. She believes you'll feel responsible for her and take care of her and the baby."

  "But I don't." Chanter cocked his head. "We don't raise our young, nor do we have mates like you do. She has merely burdened herself with something that will probably kill her, and certainly put an end to this quest that she wanted so much. I don't understand it."

  "I do." The Prince slid down the tree and sat with his back against it. "She wants to restore the staff, thereby assuring a future for your son, but she also wants to make sure that once it's restored, you don't leave."

  Chanter squatted down in front of Kieran. "The only way she can stop me from being free is if she Wishes it."

  "That's what she doesn't understand. She wants you to love her the way she loves you, and she believes a child will do that. It's a tender trap that usually it works on Truemen, but of course it won't work on a Mujar."

  "You can understand that, but she can't. Truemen care about their offspring, Mujar don't."

  Kieran nodded. "She's using Trueman guiles on a Mujar, and refuses to believe they won't work. I can only feel sorry for her. She's very confused. Unfortunately she won't listen to either of us, and when we tell her it only upsets her."

  "She's already forbidden me to speak about it."

  "Well, she can't forbid me, but I know it's useless to try. She's living in a dream. She has it all mapped out, what's going to happen, and how. For the moment she's happy, and the only thing that's going to persuade her that she's wrong is when it doesn't go the way she's planned it." Kieran fiddled with the pine needles, his brow furrowed, and Chanter stared into space.

  "I regret your pain," the Mujar murmured, breaking the silence.

  Kieran smiled bitterly. "So do I. I should have known better than to let myself fall in love with her. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about it now, so I guess I'll just stick around and pick up the pieces. I won't let it kill her. If I have to, I'll cut the thing out. You've given me the tool to do it, and heal her afterwards, so I'm grateful for that."

  "Good." Chanter nodded. "At least you can. My task is to protect her, but I can't save her from what grows in her belly. That would mean killing the child, which I cannot do. Therefore, since you can, I'll endeavour to protect you as well, Prince Kieran."

  Kieran stared at the unman, shocked by the diabolical bargain they had struck. The father of Talsy's child had promised to protect the future murderer of his unborn son. Kieran shook himself. No, Chanter had promised to protect him in return for saving Talsy's life. That was how the Mujar saw it, and so must he, for the sake of his sanity. He cursed the sweet, abrasive, foolish girl who had placed them in this predicament, struck by the irony of it.

  "How will it kill her?"

  "I don't know." Chanter glanced at him. "It may be so alien that it will poison her, or perhaps it just won't be born soon enough."

  "Stupid, stupid girl," Kieran muttered. "Let her keep her dream for now and be happy while she can. It'll end soon enough." He sighed. "We won't be able to finish the quest, though. In six moons she won't be able to travel."

  "No. We won't find the remaining three pieces in six moons, and it might be less."

  "I wonder if she thought about that when she decided to do this." Kieran pushed himself away from the tree and stood up, gripping his sword hilt.

  Chanter rose to his feet and glanced up at the tall warrior. "Sleep if you wish. I'll watch over the camp."

  The Prince nodded and wandered back to the tents, still plag
ued by unpleasant thoughts. If the child poisoned Talsy, how long should he wait before he removed it? How easy was it to cut a child from its mother without killing her, too? At least he would have Chanter to help heal her, but the thought of slicing into Talsy's flesh made him shudder. He had never shrunk from killing when necessary, and in the heat of the moment he did it with consummate ease, as his father had taught him. The prospect of killing an innocent, unborn child sickened him, even to save the life of the girl he loved. He would do it, but he was certain that the deed would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Nine

  Vosh built Law a box to hide in. The boy scuttled into it and stayed there, secure in its dark confines. Letta placed food just outside, which vanished within almost as quickly as she could provide it. Though puzzled, he and Letta decided that Law could not be ill if his appetite remained so good, and resolved to let him emerge when he was ready. No amount of wheedling or cajoling could winkle him from the box anyway, and at least he was comfortable within it. Weeks passed peacefully, the nights undisturbed by Law's prowling, which allowed Vosh to catch up on a lot of sleep.

  Law was content in the box. It kept others safe from the strange power that had burst from him and harmed the man, Vosh. Yet he could leave it whenever he pleased, so it was not a prison. Still, he longed to continue his exploration of the world. The golden light swirled in his mind, occasionally making strange thoughts stir. The creatures that dwelt in this maze of tunnels bothered him. Each time he met one and examined it with his senses and hands, he knew that something was wrong. The golden light would flare, and a line of writing would flash across his inner eye, to fast to read, but disturbing. This did not happen when he touched Letta or Vosh, nor had it happened in the forest with the bog boar.