Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (7 page)

"Poor
Jorn."

"Who?" Talsy
asked.

"Jorn, our
horseless one. He was left behind by the herd today, and he must
have been shut out when the gate closed. Now the Arrad and their
wizard have reached the wall. No doubt they will make him suffer
before he dies." He cast a meaningful glance at Shan.

Talsy turned
to Kieran. "We should see if we can help him."

The Prince
gazed at the distant wall. "I'd like to get rid of that abomination
of a wizard."

Jesher shot
them a disbelieving look. "You cannot mean to open the gate? The
Arrad are many and fearless. We lost twelve seasoned warriors and
six horses to them. Jorn is probably already dead. He could not
hope to outrun them, they're mounted. If you open the gate they'll
invade and we'll have to fight them."

Kieran's hand
caressed the hilt of the Starsword. "They won't get in. If your
man's still alive, we should rescue him. And even if he isn't, we
should teach these Arrad a lesson."

Talsy looked
around for Chanter, but the Mujar had disappeared again. Kieran
noted his absence and gave a grunt of annoyance. "Come on, we don't
need him." He set off through the village.

Talsy trotted
after him. "I'm not so sure about that. The wizard has magical
powers."

"So has this."
Kieran patted the sheathed sword. "Will you leave that man out
there to die? I know Chanter would."

"We can't open
the gate!"

The Prince
stopped and turned to look back at the Aggapae, who stood gazing
after them in apparent indecision. "Jesher! We need you to open the
gate."

The headman
appeared to shake himself from his thoughts. Leaping aboard the big
grey stallion, he cantered after them, followed by the others. He
held out a hand to Kieran. "Ride with me, we'll get there a lot
faster."

Kieran
accepted his hand and swung up behind him, while Brin helped Talsy
to scramble onto his blue roan. The horses cantered through the
village, followed by the curious stares of the chosen who had
emerged from their huts at the sound of the thunderclap. A second
thunderclap echoed around the mountains in a series of rumbling
reverberations.

Chanter paused
on his way back to the hut, where he had planned to return to the
restful state from which Talsy had so rudely dragged him earlier.
He sighed as the horses cantered away. Why did Lowmen insist on
getting into trouble, and why was Talsy always in the thick of it?
Kieran's reasons were noble, but the Starsword did not make him
invincible. Tyrander had shown him that. If this Lowman mage was as
powerful as he appeared to be from the thunderclaps his magic
caused, Kieran was perhaps overrating his abilities, even with the
sword. Chanter had woven into its fabric words of power that
invoked fire and parted rock, amongst other things, but the sword
lacked any defence against magic, since previously the only
wielders of that sort of power were Mujar.

Chanter gazed
after the group, torn between his longing for peace and quiet and
worry for Talsy. Why did they feel that they had to rush to the aid
of one foolish Lowman? Sadly, the man would probably die if left
outside, but there were hundreds, maybe thousands more chosen
outside who would die in the coming years of chaos. He rubbed his
stump. If not for his handicap, he could return to his rest, able
to fly to her aid in minutes if he had to. Hampered by it, however,
he needed to be close at hand in case Kieran's pride proved to be
his undoing. Quitting the path that led to his favourite roost, he
made his way around the back of the village, heading for the
wall.

The horses
slowed as they approached the wall, snorting at the smell of
burning and the faint haze of smoke that came over it. Their riders
slid off and allowed the animals to retreat, advancing on foot.
Harsh words, bellowed in a strange tongue, came faintly from the
far side of the stone barrier. Ragged cheers followed each verbal
barrage as the owner of the deep voice roused his followers.

Kieran turned
to Jesher. "Use your key."

The headman
quailed at the hoarse shouts from beyond the wall. "Are you sure
this is a good idea?"

The Prince
drew the Starsword far enough from its scabbard to reveal the
silver Mujar mark just below the hilt. Jesher's jaw dropped and his
eyes widened.

"The Stone
mark!"

"Mujar
mark."

"Does this
mean that your blade has powers?"

Kieran nodded.
"Open the gate and I'll show you."

Jesher reached
for the leather bag, then paused. "What if Jorn's already dead? Can
your sword withstand the wizard's magic?"

Kieran
frowned, pushing the sword back into its sheath. "I'm sure it can.
Even if your man's dead, we can rescue those six horses you
lost."

"They weren't
stolen," Jesher muttered, "they're dead."

"What about
the Arrad's horses? Wouldn't you like to free them?"

The headman
nodded. "Of course, the Arrad are cruel."

"Then open the
gate."

Jesher started
to open the leather bag, glancing at his wife, who shot him a hard
look. He hesitated again. "This is dangerous. You haven't seen the
Arrad, you don't know what fearsome warriors they are. What if you
fail?"

"In that
unlikely event, there's one who dwells in this valley who's sworn
to protect it." He glanced back at Talsy. "And believe me he can,
no matter how reluctantly."

Talsy looked
around for the Mujar, then turned to shrug at Kieran, indicating
that she had no idea where Chanter was. The Prince gave a growl of
annoyance and gestured at the wall.

"Open the
gate. I'll deal with that scum."

The headman
drew his precious stone from the soft leather bag and stepped up to
the wall, pressing its mark to the mark on the rock. He retreated
as the Mujar mark caught fire, burning with a soft blue light.

Jesher stuffed
the Stone back into its bag and went to stand beside his wife, his
hand gripping the hilt of his knife. He had no other weapon, but
Brin carried a long fighting spear. The headman hoped that this
dark-haired man with the burning black eyes knew what he was doing.
A thought struck him, and he stepped forward. The key opened the
gate, but they had no way of closing it. Before he could voice
this, the rock around the mark shimmered. As before, the wall
parted. A perfect line appeared in it, dissecting the mark. The
rock drew aside as if it was a giant grey curtain parted by
invisible hands. The gate was far taller than a mounted man and
wide enough to drive two carts through abreast.

On the other
side of the wall, a tall man stopped in mid-shout and turned to
stare at the gate that had appeared behind him. The only warning he
had of its existence was the expression on his followers' faces as
they gaped in wonder. For a moment he too gaped in awe, then he
gathered his wits and wiped the surprised expression off his face.
Kieran strode through the portal, followed by Talsy and the
Aggapae.

The wizard
wore a headdress of raven's feathers arranged in a formidable
crest, a deep widow's peak painted on his brow beneath it. Stylised
brows had been painted over his own, almost meeting his hairline in
a parody of a Mujar's long brows. His eyes, heavily outlined with
sable paint, glared balefully at the newcomers from a thin,
saturnine face. His leather outfit was a parody of a Mujar's, and
his skin had been tinted a sickly yellow with berry juice.

The overall
impression would have been comical if it had not been so insulting,
and Talsy's heart swelled with rage. How dare a Lowman ape a Mujar!
In fact, why would they? Mujar were hated, reviled, shunned and
ultimately thrown into a Pit. Yet this man's costume was not a
mockery, but rather a brave attempt to look like a creature that he
had never seen in order to rationalise his newfound powers, gifted
to him by the lack of law. The most startling aspect of his
disguise was the bright blue eyes he had painted on his eyelids,
visible for a split second when he blinked.

Kieran stopped
several feet from the wizard and glared into the man's brown eyes.
Talsy glanced around and spotted their victim, a middle-aged
Aggapae farmer bound to a stake on his knees. He showed signs of
rough treatment, cuts and bruises on his face and arms. The
unfortunate Jorn looked horrified when Jesher, Shella, Brin and
Shan emerged from the gate, somewhat less boldly than Kieran. The
rest of the Arrad ringed the portal in a semi-circle, mounted on
thin, rough looking horses.

Dried sweat
and dirt streaked the animals' harsh coats, shoddy saddles chafed
bony withers and rusty bits cut tender mouths. Their hides showed
the scars of abuse and patches of white hair from healed spur cuts
and saddle sores. The men who sat on them were over fed and soft
looking, their hair and skin oiled. The pelts of wild animals clad
their pot-bellied forms, and bright feathers from rare birds
sprigged their oily braids. Talsy had never seen a bunch that
looked less worthy than this one.

The wizard,
recovering from his surprise, straightened with an expansive
gesture and spoke in a heavily accented Trueman tongue that she
understood, a dialect hill clans sometimes used.

"Well! We are
honoured!" He glanced back at his men and grinned, revealing yellow
teeth. "So you've decided to face the mighty Arrad, instead of
cowering in your little haven like whipped curs!"

His comments
were directed at Jesher, but Kieran replied, "We've come for the
man you've taken prisoner, and your horses."

The wizard
looked stunned, then threw back his head and guffawed. "Do you hear
that, men? They've come for our horses!"

The Arrad
joined in the wizard's laughter with a little more restraint,
perhaps realising that these people were either mad, or they had
some trick up their sleeve. The mage appeared to have no such
doubts. He exuded confidence like a slug oozes slime and stepped
closer to the Prince.

"In case you
hadn't noticed, I have certain, er, powers," he confided, "and
there's only six of you, and four hundred of us."

Kieran nodded.
"I've noticed. My advice to you is to leave your animals and go,
then maybe I'll spare your lives."

The wizard's
face went slack in an almost comical expression of astonishment,
then he roared with laughter again. "I must say, little man, you
have a lot of balls."

Kieran
scowled. "Only the usual number, but I have a lot more than
that."

"Really? Do
you have anything like this?"

The mage
turned and raised his arms, muttering a string of odd guttural
words. He made a throwing gesture, and a tree beside the wall
exploded into flame with a deafening boom. Talsy sensed an odd cold
tingle run through her as the fire appeared, as if someone had
dropped ice in her blood. The Arrad's horses whinnied in fear and
tried to back away, but the cruel jabbing of their riders' spurs
held them in place. The beasts clearly did not have the energy to
cavort or fight, some looked ready to drop.

Although Talsy
and the Aggapae jumped at the explosion and Jorn cringed, Kieran
remained unflinching. He drew the Starsword with a hiss of
steel.

"Actually, I
do," he murmured. The wizard stared at the star-filled blade while
Kieran looked around for a suitable target. His eyes skipped past
living trees and alighted on a boulder next to the Arrad. He raised
the sword, making the mage step smartly aside, and pointed it at
the rock.

"Fire."

The rock
turned molten, tiny white flames dancing over it, then slumped and
flowed across the ground. The horses shied, earning more jabs and
jerks on their mouths. Kieran lowered the sword and glared at the
mage.

"Now, unless
you want to be the next target, I advise you to take your men and
leave on foot."

Talsy's heart
warmed with pride as the mage seemed to shrink, a glint of fear
invading his eyes. He stepped back, and his men muttered, shifting
in their saddles. If only Chanter would use his power with a little
more showmanship, she mused, he could be even more impressive and
really put these Lowmen in their place. At this crucial time,
however, the Mujar was nowhere to be seen.

The Arrad mage
recovered a little of his aplomb, and nodded. "I see that you do
indeed have a worthy weapon, warrior." He raised his hands. "But
you have no power!" He shouted harsh, guttural words and flung his
fire at the Prince.

Talsy yelled a
warning, and Kieran raised the sword as flames engulfed him. The
explosion was not as ferocious as the one that had consumed the
tree, but he gave a harsh grunt and collapsed, dropping the sword
with a clatter. Talsy ran to him and beat out the flames that
licked over his clothes. The sickly stench of burnt skin turned her
stomach and the fire singed her hands, making her sob with pain.
She persevered until all the flames were out, patting his
smouldering shirt. Kieran’s face was reddened, his hair singed, and
he breathed in wheezing gasps, unconscious.

The Arrad mage
crowed with delight and applauded his triumph. His men cheered,
waving their weapons as their wizard took a bow. Talsy glared at
the man, the danger of her situation lost in her rage.

"You bastard!"
She lunged for Kieran's sword, forgetting its loyalty. The wizard
raised his hands, then laughed when she could not lift the weapon.
Talsy tugged at the blade, which seemed to be glued to the ground,
and cursed Chanter's spell and his absence.

"Not even
strong enough to lift a sword!" the wizard sneered. "Poor little
girl!"

Talsy glanced
around at the Aggapae, who retreated towards the gate, their faces
twisted with pity. Shan glowered at the Arrad with deep loathing.
Clearly they did not wish to become involved in the dispute Kieran
had started with his bravado. Jesher had a tribe to protect, and
she did not blame him for his reluctance. Two warriors and a boy
stood no chance against four hundred Arrad. Realising that they
would not help, she returned to Kieran and crouched beside him,
pulling out her hunting knife. Where was Chanter? If he was trying
to make a point, he had succeeded, she thought angrily.