The next tall, imposing wall loomed before him, formed from twisted rock that seemed to scream in silent torture at being dragged from its stony womb and forced into alien shapes by inept earth wizards. Kieran remembered the way Chanter had formed the ship, coaxing the flowing rock into the shape he wished with consummate ease. This stone looked like harsh minds and brutal hands had bludgeoned and twisted it. He sliced through it in another low arch, and this time the sundered stone slid away when he pushed against it, opening a door with a grinding rumble. He froze at the sound, remembering the guards that patrolled atop the wall, but no curious shouts came from above.
After a moment's rest he peered through the new portal, finding himself again amid shrubbery. Beyond the bush was a small, well-tended garden around a stone mansion crafted by stonemasons with hammers and chisels before earth wizards had come into being. No light shone from the windows, and Kieran flitted unnoticed across the dark grounds. A dog barked uncertainly nearby, then fell silent. Kieran threaded his way through a town of tall mansions, some grander than others and a few filled with light, but most dark and silent. The distance between the second wall and the third was far larger than the first two, and it took him some time to traverse the gauntlet of grand dwellings, some guarded by noisy dogs. Fortunately, when these vigilant hounds scented his presence and gave tongue in alarm, they were rewarded with shouts and curses that silenced their dutiful barking.
Reaching the third wall, Kieran peered around the corner to assure himself that he was in the right place with a glimpse of the gate and two sleepy guards propped up on their spears before it. Like the houses, this wall had been built years ago from stone and mortar, but only for the first two man heights. From there it took on the twisted look of an earth wizard's bungling power. Kieran leant against it and rested, readying himself for what he would face inside.
Swallowing his fear, he whipped up his flagging courage and drew the Starsword, holding it before him to draw strength from the blade. With a muttered prayer to whatever gods might be listening, he turned and plunged it into the wall, drawing it swiftly through the stone in a far larger arch than the previous ones. As he made the final cut, the stone door wobbled. His element of surprise would be tenuous, but necessary, and he thrust the stone inward with a mighty push. It toppled, shattering as it hit the inner courtyard's floor with a thunderclap that ripped the night's silence to shreds and started a cacophony of frantic barking from the houses behind him.
Kieran leapt after it, entering the black army's compound with his sword ready to strike, his eyes scanning the terrain for his enemies. Moonlight illuminated the top of a slender tower at its centre and half of one wall, but the rest of the courtyard was filled with deep shadows. Eight sets of yellow eyes glowed with malignant intensity as they rested on their prey, who had conveniently delivered himself into their courtyard. A hissing titter sliced the silence that followed the crash of falling stone, sending a shiver through Kieran. Knowing that hesitation was fatal, he swung towards the nearest black shadow as its steed's yellow eyes opened, animated by its rider.
Pointing the blade at it, Kieran cried, "Fire!"
The Torrak Jahar became molten and flung up its arms as it toppled from its slumping steed, its face smearing into glowing rock. White flames licked over it as it collapsed, the two forms subsiding into a pool of spreading lava. Not pausing to admire the sword's handiwork, Kieran swung to face another Torrak Jahar while the Riders stood frozen in surprise, lighted now by their fallen comrade's dull red glow. He pointed the blade and commanded it, and the Rider and its steed slumped like the first, their forms flowing into another glowing pool. The rest of the Torrak Jahar recovered from their surprise and spurred their steeds forward with fierce hissing cries of rage, the horses' stone hooves scraping the tar as they scrambled to grip it.
Shouts of surprise and alarm came from the Truemen guards outside the gate, mixed with the clatter of running feet. Kieran pointed the sword again, reducing a third Rider to lava as the others strived to close the gap and vanquish this sudden threat to their existence. A fourth fell before Kieran was forced to duck a Rider's scything blade, and he jumped aside to strike out with his own. The Starsword clove through the steed's chest, sliced off its forelegs and sent it crashing onto its belly to slide helplessly before falling over. Its Rider jumped clear and attacked, its stone face twisted with hatred and blood lust, its black sword swinging. Kieran spun away, and the Rider's sword cut into the thick leather armour of his shoulder with a dull tugging sensation followed by a lash of pain.
Kieran ducked the downward slash of another Rider's sword and rolled under its steed's belly, hacking off one of its hind legs as he passed. The horse crashed to the floor with a hard clattering thud of stone on tar, and the Rider jumped free to join its fellows' furious attack on the elusive Trueman warrior. Kieran spun and ducked, using all his speed and agility to foil the Torrak Jahar's ponderous strokes. The four surrounded him, two on foot and two mounted, trying to cut him down with their swords or impale him with their lances. He lopped off each weapon that menaced him, careful never to allow any of the Riders to touch him.
Metal rang on stone as the Riders hit each other in the melee, while their horses' hooves scraped and grated, mixing with the Riders' hissing curses. In the confusion, it was impossible to keep track of all the Riders, and a sword stabbed him from behind, piercing the flesh of his flank above his hip. He staggered forward, slipped free of the weapon and spun to face the threat. Swinging the Starsword, he lopped off a dismounted Rider's head. Its torso toppled over to smash on the floor, sending shards skittering across the tar. Kieran dived to the ground and rolled away as another Rider's sword rang on the tar where he had been standing. Leaping up, he slashed backwards at a mounted Rider behind him, almost cutting it through at the waist. It wobbled, dropped its weapon and strived to hold itself together by grasping its leg, but its horse staggered sideways and fell, breaking the Rider in two.
The remaining two, one mounted, one on foot, attacked with a fury born of desperation, hurling themselves at him. He threw himself aside, narrowly avoiding one, and its sword sliced into his thigh with a flash of white-hot pain. He bit his tongue to silence the bellow of agony that stretched his chest, staggering as he gripped the wound to slow the blood that pumped from it. The mounted Torrak Jahar collided with its comrade as they turned to attack him again, sending the horseless Rider reeling away.
Kieran pointed the sword as the mounted Rider attacked and shouted for fire. The Rider turned molten, its momentum carrying it for a few staggering steps before its horse's legs gave way and it slumped into a pool of lava. The lash of heat scorched Kieran's cheek, making him recoil with a gasp. Swinging around, he found the last Rider almost upon him, charging him with all its ponderous speed, sword raised. He leapt aside and sliced it in two as it thundered past on heavy stone feet. It crashed to the ground, bits snapping off, hands and fingers breaking with the force of the impact.
A glance around assured him that none of the fallen Riders was a threat to him, and he relaxed, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He bent and clasped the wound in his thigh, his breath coming in quick painful gasps as he gazed at the carnage. Wiping away the sweat that tried to run into his eyes, he retreated from the intense heat of the pools of lava. Some of them were starting to harden and cool, lumpy with the vague forms of the creatures they had been. Those he had sliced through twitched a little, broken hands clawing at the floor. Their glowing eyes glared at him with helpless rage, and their faces twisted as they hissed vile curses. The cooling pools of lava flickered with the sickly light of the souls still trapped within the stone.
Kieran limped to the tower and pulled out the water skin, unstoppered it and splashed cold water onto the deep gash in his thigh. Holding the Starsword flat on the wound, he commanded it to heal, and sagged with relief as the pain ebbed. Shouts of argument and anger came from the gate, making him glance in that direction. Evidently the guards had summoned hel
p, but as yet no one had plucked up the courage to enter the black army's sanctum. An officer bellowed orders, but prudent soldiers quailed at the thought. Still, time was running out, and he healed the deep wound in his flank, not bothering about the one in his shoulder. Turning to the tower, he thrust the sword into the stone and cut a doorway with swift strokes. The stone door fell, shattering with a boom, and he leapt over it into a gloomy interior.
A winding staircase led up, and he bounded up them two at a time, forcing his legs to carry him in spite of their aching fatigue. At the top of the spire, moonbeams shone through the arched windows to bathe the piece of staff that lay on a velvet cushion atop an ornate marble plinth. Sheathing the Starsword, he slid his hands under it and lifted it, staggering. For its size, it was remarkably heavy, more than a full grown man. Turning from the dented cushion, he descended the stairs as fast as his buckling legs would allow, fresh sweat popping out all over him. At the bottom, he stepped through the door he had made, back into the dark courtyard.
As he turned to run for the door, the gates flew open to admit a flood of armed, torch-bearing men. The garish, leaping brightness illuminated the broken black bodies that littered the ground and the weird twisted masses of still glowing rock. A mutter of surprise arose from the soldiers as they stared at the fallen Torrak Jahar, but Kieran reeled onwards in his bid for freedom.
"Stop!"
The word rang out like a whip crack, making Kieran stop despite himself and turn to face the woman who had spoken. She stood tall and proud, clad in a long, deep crimson robe trimmed with silver. Behind her, two men wore similar robes of rich brown edged with gold. Wizards, Kieran guessed. He turned away to continue his escape, ignoring the latent threat.
"Stop, or you die!" she cried.
Kieran plodded closer to the portal, his arms aching from the weight of his burden, his back bending under the strain. Deciding that he needed a rest, and was not about to make a speedy exit with such a heavy burden, he stopped and put down the stone with a sigh of relief, turning to face the woman.
He gestured to the defeated Riders. "If they couldn't stop me, what makes you think you can?"
"They have no magic, fool!" she said.
"Ah, and you do." He met the glowing, hate-filled yellow eyes of one of the Torrak Jahar.
The woman strode forward, flanked by the two men, but the soldiers hung back with the prudence of seasoned men who valued their lives. Kieran held up his hand. "That's close enough."
The woman stopped, her hands clenching. "How dare you tell me what to do? Thief!"
Kieran rubbed his back, grimacing. "I really don't want to kill you, lady, but if you force me to I will. So just stay back, and I'll be on my way."
"You're not going anywhere! The rest of the black army are on their way back even as we speak. Do you think you can defeat all of them?"
"Probably not, which is why I must go." Kieran bent to pick up the stone again, and the woman raised her arms as she prepared to invoke her power. He straightened and drew the Starsword with a soft hiss, making her step back, her gesture faltering.
"I would advise you to leave me alone," he recommended, waving the blade at her. "One word from me, and you'll end up like them." He nodded at the glowing pools of lava.
One of the men stepped forward. "We're not afraid of you!"
"Then that's mighty stupid of you."
Kieran bent and heaved the stone into his arms again with a grunt, holding the Starsword with difficulty. Unsure that it would protect him in its scabbard, he kept it in his hand, tucking the stone under his other arm. He waved the sword at them and started towards the portal again, wondering how far he would get before his arm grew too tired to hold the stone. The brown-robed man raised his arms and muttered a few words, making the same throwing gesture as the fire wizard of the Arrad. The Starsword lighted with a shimmering flare of rainbow colours, becoming, for an instant, a thing of incredible beauty. Kieran continued towards the gate with heavy steps.
The earth wizard stared at his hands in stunned amazement, and the soldiers behind him muttered. Undaunted by the failure of her comrade's magic, the woman stepped forward and raised her arms, murmuring a string of harsh words. The Starsword flared with a sweet nimbus of pure colour in a brilliant display of beauty. Like the earth wizard, the woman was patently astonished, and looked bewildered.
"Seize him!"
Another woman's voice cracked across the courtyard and galvanised the troops who still hesitated by the gates. Kieran glanced up at a resplendent female figure atop the wall, clad in a rich crimson gown and a scarlet cape lined with rare fur, her hair and neck afire with precious stones. Black-clad figures flanked her royal person, no doubt advisors and courtiers dragged from their beds to attend the Queen. Kieran stopped just inside the portal and put the stone down as the soldiers charged him. He pointed the sword.
"Fire!"
A man at the forefront burst into flames with a brief, agonised scream and crumpled in a burning heap. Most of those behind him stopped and recoiled, scattering from the blazing body. Some ignored their comrade's fate and came on, forcing Kieran to use the sword again, immolating two more soldiers before the rest retreated. He spun at a sound behind him, just in time to roast a man who attacked through the doorway he had cut in the wall. The rest of the warriors outside the doorway stopped, muttered and fingered their weapons.
"Wait!" the Queen cried belatedly, much to the soldiers' obvious relief. "I must have that sword! You! Wait there, I will speak to you!"
Kieran hesitated, glancing at the soldiers who crowded outside the door. His escape had now become impossible without slaughtering most of them. Perhaps there was a better way to leave the Queen's palace, one that involved less killing, or none at all. When the Torrak Jahar arrived, his flight would be truly impossible, whereas the Queen's interest in the Starsword could prove to be his ticket out.
The soldiers in the courtyard bowed and shuffled aside, clearing a path down which Queen Larina strode, her vestments sweeping the floor. A tall, bony woman with a hard angular face, thick brows and sallow skin, she possessed a queen's regal bearing, which commanded submission and adulation. She stopped a few paces away and eyed Kieran, her gaze lingering on the blade that dangled from his hand.
"Who sent you?"
He smiled, a story forming in his mind. "Those who would see your rule ended, Majesty."
"Why take the stone?"
"They feel that without its good fortune your people will turn against you."
Her lip curled in contempt. "Are they that stupid? No one would dare to turn against me, I would have them sacrificed! Where did you get that sword?"
"It was given to me by those who hired me. Two great wizards made it, they told me."
"I have seen it burn, what else can it do?"
Kieran hefted the blade, considering it. "Cut rock, ward off magic, and heal wounds."
"That is... remarkable." Larina gazed at the sword with avaricious eyes. "Perhaps we can reach a bargain, you and I?"
"Perhaps we could."
"Come to my chambers, we shall have a drink and discuss it." She turned away. "You two, bring the stone."
Two soldiers picked up the stone as Kieran followed the Queen, sheathing the sword. The warriors muttered as he passed through their ranks, their cold eyes hostile. Larina left the courtyard and started down a narrow street, Kieran a step behind her, flanked by her advisors. They had not gone far when the rumble of approaching hooves heralded the Torrak Jahar's return.
The Riders appeared from the darkness like shadows, moving into the light that revealed their ebon forms in a hard glitter. A long column cantered beside the palace's torch lighted wall to halt before the Queen. Their armour glinted and their yellow eyes glowed in ugly, twisted faces. One Rider urged his horse a step closer.
"He is ours," it grated with chilling venom.
"No." Larina raised her chin. "He is mine. He has something I want, and you shall not harm him."
/> "You would bargain with a thief?" The Rider's eyes flared.
"I'll do as I please," she said. "You've feasted tonight on the dregs of my people and you'll do as I say, that's our bargain. You have more souls to gather in your courtyard from your comrades, whom he defeated. It seems you're not as invincible as you claim to be."
The Rider's horse snorted and pawed the ground. "I shall drink his blood myself!" Its face twisted further, becoming gruesome in its ugliness.
Kieran kept his hand on the sword's hilt, unsure that the Queen could control these monstrosities. Beside him, the advisors had turned grey, rooted to the spot with terror.
Larina's voice cracked with command. "You will return to your courtyard and await my orders!" she shouted. "Now!"
The Riders hissed, but the one who had come forward nodded, and its steed stepped back. The Torrak Jahar moved forward again, the column detouring around the Queen and her party. Larina marched on, forcing the Riders to sidestep her. The hissing titter of their weird laughter sliced through Kieran's nerves. Some jabbed at him with their lances as they passed, making the advisors jump and squeak with fright. Fortunately, the Trueman group soon reached a door, for the column of Riders stretched far down the road, and Kieran did not relish passing so many of them. Their presence made his hair stand on end and their laughter froze the pit of his stomach.
A grey and red-liveried guard bowed and opened the door, admitting the Queen and her party into a brightly-lighted, silk-hung corridor. They walked along several of these, then up a flight of broad steps into a sumptuous room dominated by a cushioned throne. Gauzy silk festooned marble pillars whose sole purpose was ornamentation, and a fountain tinkled in the centre of the marble floor. Evidently the tar that had covered the floors during the war with the land had since been scraped off, revealing the pale grey marble's beauty once more.
Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law Page 21