Broken World Book Two - StarSword

by Southwell, T C

  Many Black Riders had left the city now to cut down the people trapped on the web, and some of them left the tar's safety to try to flee into the forest. The land opened like a hungry beast lying in wait, swallowing the running Truemen in earthen maws. A few tried to use stilts or the little wheeled carts that farmers tended their crops in, but these were too slow to outrun the Riders. Kieran ignored the paths and staggered towards the forest, crossing patches of land that had just swallowed screaming groups. The ground rippled under his feet twice, but remained firm. He turned at a thunder of hooves, to face a Rider that bore down on him, sword raised. He ducked the swinging blade, but the beast's shoulder sent him sprawling on the ploughed earth of a farmer's field.

  The Hashon Jahar galloped away to pursue others, and Kieran hauled himself upright, clutching his broken shoulder. Forcing his shaking legs to move, he ran towards the edge of the web, pain clouding his mind in a red haze.

  Chanter hovered over the forest, gazing down at the fleeing people who braved the hostile land and were swallowed by it. None would survive this battle, for the woods offered no refuge, as it had in Talsy's land. The Black Riders would soon overtake those who had fled on wagons, since they were unable to leave the road or hide amongst the trees. The ground rippled with eager hunger as the angry Dargon feasted this day on Trueman blood. Some people had procured horses and galloped into the forest unhindered, but, in their haste, they brushed against branches, and the trees came to life.

  Roots whipped up to drag the horses down, pin them to the earth and tear their riders from their backs. The beasts were released unharmed, their erstwhile masters' corpses crushed and twisted. Although the unchosen's demise did not affect Chanter emotionally, he longed to flee the ugly scene. Only the hope of finding Kieran kept him there. He did not like to leave the chosen and Talsy alone for too long unprotected.

  A figure reeling across open ground caught his eye, and he swooped lower. Although clad in black, the man was not a Rider, yet the ground did not swallow him. Relieved to have found him at last, the Mujar silently urged Kieran on. The exhausted warrior fell to his knees several times, resting for a moment before stumbling onward. He clasped his shoulder, the arm hanging at his side, and his short strides made his progress slow. Chanter drifted down to land amongst the trees. With a flash of Ashmar, he transformed to a man and strode to the edge of the forest, as close as he dared to the earth blood.

  Kieran fell to his knees again, still beyond the last black path and out of the Mujar's reach. He crouched, gasping, a weary smile tugging at his lips when he spotted Chanter waiting at the edge of the trees. The Mujar beckoned, watching the Hashon Jahar that galloped about the city, cutting down their prey. A desperate Trueman ran onto the ground close to Kieran, perhaps emboldened by the warrior's immunity, to be swallowed with a scream just paces away. Kieran climbed to his feet and approached Chanter with dragging steps.

  A Black Rider veered in its wild gallop and bore down on the warrior, its sword lowered like a lance to skewer Kieran. Chanter invoked Crayash, sent an explosion of flame into the Rider's path and caused the steed to veer away. The Rider reined in and turned back towards its prey, its twisted soul-face stretched in a silent scream. Again Chanter blocked the way with fire, this time catching the Rider in the flames. The Hashon Jahar broke off its attack and galloped away to join a group of its fellows.

  Kieran reached the edge of the tar and stumbled over it onto the soil beyond the web. He fell to his knees again, shaking his head in rueful defeat. Sweat beaded his brow, and he breathed clouds of steam, his features pale and drawn. His eyes burnt fiercely under lowered brows, a lingering defiance in the face of his exhaustion. Chanter stepped closer, sensing the earth blood's dangerous pull. He beckoned, and Kieran made a supreme effort to regain his feet, fell onto his good hand and swayed as the pain of his broken shoulder engulfed him. Chanter looked up, spying four Hashon Jahar heading in their direction. They urged their mounts to their best speed, clods of earth flying up behind them.

  Kieran crawled towards him, dragging himself along with his good arm. In a flash of air-freezing Dolana, Chanter became the tall black stallion and stepped out of the forest.

  Kieran glanced back at the riders, then at the approaching Mujar. "No! Go back! I'm not worth it!"

  The stallion continued to advance, and Kieran speeded up his crawl, the thunder of the approaching Hashon Jahar pounding in his ears. The manifestation of fire screamed in a searing inferno, then winked out. A sheet of flame shot up in the Riders' path and forced them to veer, slowing them. They avoided the flames and headed for Chanter. The stallion reared, pawing the air, and was engulfed in fire. He plunged towards the Riders, the Crayash that licked over his glossy hide protecting him. With a horrible thud, he struck the leading steed with his shoulder. Both rebounded from the impact, the Hashon Jahar's horse falling, the Mujar staggering back. Frost rimed his shoulder where he had struck the steed, melting away as flames licked over it. The earth opened under the fallen Rider, swallowed him to the waist and trapped him.

  The other three came on, and a sheet of rock shot up in their path. They crashed into it, two falling to lie still, earth blood oozing from cracks in their necks. The third slammed into it sideways, having turned, and plunged around the barrier, its sword raised. Chanter lunged to meet it, thudding shoulder to shoulder with the steed. Again, both staggered back, and the horse fell, its Rider slashing at Chanter as it went down. Frost whitened the Mujar's shoulder and crept down one foreleg, and bright blood oozed from a gash in his neck. He waited as the Crayash melted away Dolana's freezing touch, then turned to Kieran.

  The flames winked out, and the stallion lowered himself to his knees before the warrior. Kieran gripped the thick mane and pulled himself onto Chanter's back as frost crept up from the Mujar's knees. Throwing his leg over the stallion's back, the warrior settled aboard and hung on as Chanter rose to his feet with a mighty heave. Stumbling a little on cold-stiffened legs, he headed for the forest, away from the earth blood and its terrible drain. Behind them, four Hashon Jahar turned to follow, their tireless steeds blowing great puffs of steam.

  The Mujar galloped through the trees, kicking up clods of frozen earth behind him as the forest parted to let him through. Kieran hung on to the stallion's mane with his good hand, gripping his flanks with shaking legs. His hold was precarious, and his grip weakened as his strength waned. The Mujar increased the gap between them and the pursuing Riders, but the Hashon Jahar came on. Kieran started to slip off sideways as the Mujar swerved around a tree, and the stallion slowed, then stopped. Kieran slid from his back, too tired to hold on any longer.

  His breath froze as the icy clamp of Dolana stilled the air. The stallion transformed into Chanter's man form, and, at the same instant, a ring of rock rose out of the earth around them. It shot up with astonishing speed in a circle no more than ten feet in diameter, groaning as it slowed to a stop some fifteen paces above them.

  Chanter raised a hand to the wound on his neck, an injury that would have killed a Trueman, for it severed his jugular on one side, yet only a little blood oozed from it. He glanced at the blood on his hand, then down at the panting warrior. Kieran tried to sit up, and stifled a groan at the pain in his shoulder. He propped himself up on his good arm, the other lying beside him.

  The Mujar came to kneel beside Kieran, his eyes filled with concern. "What ails you?"

  "My shoulder. I think I broke it."

  Chanter glanced around, spotted a patch of snow beside a tree within the rock wall and went to collect it. Outside, the Black Riders' hoof beats approached, slowing as they encountered the ring of stone. Chanter scraped up the snow and knelt again beside Kieran to trickle the water onto his shoulder. The armour hampered him, and he unbuckled the shoulder guard and pulled it aside to lay his hand on the blackening flesh. Kieran shivered as the air filled with the soft wet mist of Shissar, the sounds of surf and rain and rivers. The warrior relaxed when the pain vanished, sighing with reli
ef.

  Chanter stood up and glanced around their prison, which the Black Riders circled outside. Kieran sat up and clasped his shoulder, moving the affected limb gingerly at first, then with more confidence as he got used to the fact that it no longer hurt. The Mujar found a little more snow in the crook of a branch and scooped it out to melt it onto the wound in his neck. He fell to his knees as the agony of healing gripped him, but in seconds it was over and the injury gone.

  Kieran watched him, fascinated by this strange wild creature who looked like a man but was not one. This was the first time he had been alone with the Mujar. The unman listened to the Black Riders outside, cocking his head. After a while, he came closer and sat next to Kieran. The warrior's breathing slowed, and a little strength seeped back into him. He wondered why the Mujar had come for him. The rescue, though welcome, had been unexpected, and confused him a little. He had thought only Talsy rated Chanter's undivided attention and protection.

  "Where's Talsy?" he asked.

  "With the chosen."

  "Are they safe?"

  "For now," the Mujar replied with his usual terseness.

  "Thank you... for rescuing me."

  Chanter turned silver-blue eyes on him in a disconcerting stare. "Debt."

  Kieran frowned in puzzlement. Mujar had an odd way of talking sometimes, especially when they were being formal, as Chanter was now. He understood 'gratitude' and 'wish', even 'regret', but 'debt' he had never heard before.

  "You mean I owe you?"

  Chanter nodded.

  "What do you want?"

  The Mujar considered. "Obedience."

  Resentment flared in Kieran, but he quelled it, remembered his father's words and used them to ward off the memories of all the talk he had heard against Mujar. His father had been wise, and taught him to respect Mujar, even to fear them.

  "You have it," he replied.

  Chanter inclined his head, apparently engrossed in listening to the Black Riders outside. Kieran shifted into a more comfortable position, studying him. Questions thronged in his mind, yet he doubted that he would get many answers, for Mujar were fabled for their reticence.

  "Why do you say so little?"

  Chanter shrugged. "There's little to say."

  "You answer all Talsy's questions."

  "She's special."

  "I want to ask you some questions. Will you answer them?"

  The Mujar glanced at him. "No."

  Kieran sighed in frustration, listening for a moment to the circling hoof beats outside. "How long before they leave?"

  "Soon." He glanced at the empty scabbard at the warrior's side. "You didn't get the sword."

  "No. I had one, but I lost it again when I broke my shoulder."

  "Unfortunate."

  Kieran nodded. "It was a foolish thing to do."

  "That's debatable. A warrior needs a sword."

  "I should have waited until after the Black Riders left, then I could have just walked in and got it."

  Chanter gazed up at the leafy roof. "We'll be far from here by then. The Hashon Jahar will take time to recover. The Truemen of that city have taken a heavy toll with their fire."

  "Why did you rescue me?"

  "You're important."

  Kieran frowned. "How? To whom?"

  "To the chosen, and the fate of the world."

  "You can foretell the future?"

  Chanter smiled, glancing at him. "No, not really. It's just that you're the only chosen who is a warrior. The rest are meek people who will not fight. We will need you."

  "You fight, I've seen you."

  "Yes, I'll fight, but I won't kill."

  "And you think killing will be necessary."

  The Mujar sighed. "It usually is with your people."

  "Some of the Hashon Jahar who attacked us back there looked pretty dead to me. The ones who ran into the wall you created, for instance," Kieran pointed out.

  "Hashon Jahar cannot die. They were merely damaged. They tried to defy the will of a Mujar, and paid for it."

  "You were overcome by them before, at the camp."

  Chanter stared at the stone wall. "I was attacked first by Truemen. I was powerless when the Hashon Jahar pinned me to the ground."

  Kieran followed the Mujar's gaze. The part of the wall he stared at shimmered, then solidified again. Kieran realised that, even as Chanter spoke, he prevented the Black Riders from breaching the wall that protected them. The hoof beats stopped, and a hush fell. Kieran waited tensely, but when the sounds came again, they moved away, fading into the distance.

  Chapter Six

  Talsy had long since given up struggling. Her captors seemed to know exactly what to do, for as soon as they had left the pursuing chosen behind, they had halted and trussed her, silencing her with a gag. This also prevented her from calling on the souls for help, although she tried calling them in her mind. Whoever had sent the four knights knew what she could do and how to prevent her from doing it, a fact that filled her with foreboding. She had no doubt that the knights had been sent to capture her. The swift precision of their actions had told her that. Now she was slung over the pommel of the leader's horse, and the knights moved at a slow canter through the forest, avoiding any contact with the trees.

  They had travelled for several hours now, and the sun descended, sending golden beams to gild fallen leaves in dappled patterns, liming tree trunks. From its position, she deduced that they headed south-west, and wondered how they would manage at night. Surely they could not keep riding; the horses needed rest. Her question was answered as dusk fell, when they emerged into a grassy clearing.

  A covered wagon stood there, and two horses grazed at the end of long ropes. Five black-armoured soldiers waited aboard the wagon, and roused when the knights appeared. She was transferred to the wagon and laid upon a pile of blankets and furs, made comfortable, though still tied and fastened to the side of the wagon as well. The men only spoke when the knights gave terse orders that they instantly obeyed. Her captors ate some dried food before rolling up in their cloaks, but offered her nothing, since that would entail removing her gag.

  Kieran eyed the chosen, whose despondent expressions filled him with unease. Shern came over, with obvious reluctance, to explain that four black-clad Truemen had abducted Talsy. The Mujar scowled, turning away to gaze into the forest.

  Kieran stepped in front of him. "We must get her back."

  "Yes, we will." He stared through Kieran, lost in thought. "Yet she is in no immediate danger, or the Dolana would have warned me. You must go after her."

  "Tell me where she is."

  "I don't know. As long as she isn't in danger, I can't locate her." The Mujar narrowed his eyes. "She could call upon the souls to help her."

  "Unless they've gagged her," Kieran pointed out.

  "Why would they?"

  "They might have done it for the sake of peace and quiet."

  Chanter smiled. "Talsy would have called the souls before then."

  Kieran swung to confront Shern. "Why did they take her? Did they try to take any of the other women?"

  The seer shook his head. "Only Talsy. It was as if they knew who she was. They grabbed her and made their escape before we could do anything to stop them." He wrung his hands, glancing at the pensive Mujar. "We chased them, but they were mounted."

  Kieran turned back to Chanter. "Can't you turn into a bird and find her? It wouldn't take long if you flew."

  "No," Chanter replied. "The Hashon Jahar are too close, and from the sky, the forest is an impenetrable green blanket. I would see nothing. I have to take care of these people and return for the chosen we left behind."

  "I thought you cared about her. Isn't she important to you?"

  The Mujar's cold eyes burnt into his, making him look away. "You must find her and bring her back."

  "Then I'll go now," Kieran said, spinning away.

  "Wait," Chanter called, stopping him despite his anxiety to set off after Talsy. He turned and scowled.<
br />
  "You have no weapon," Chanter pointed out.

  Kieran’s hand dropped to his empty scabbard, and he groaned. "If only I'd kept that sword! I'll have to return to the city."

  "No, the Hashon Jahar are still there. I'll make you a weapon."

  "You will?"

  "Yes."

  Chanter glanced at Shern, who gaped at him. He beckoned to Kieran, turned and stalked into the woods, leaving Shern to gaze after them in frustration. Kieran followed, puzzled by his offer, which seemed out of character for him. Although he did not expect an answer, his curiosity prompted him to ask, "How can a Mujar make a weapon?"

  Chanter looked back at him. "It's not forbidden."

  "But Mujar don't kill."

  "Nor will I."

  Kieran frowned. "The weapon you make will."

  The Mujar shrugged, threading his way through the thickening trees. "But I shall not wield it, and the First Chosen needs help."

  Chanter's unusual openness surprised Kieran, but, when he pondered what he had learnt, he realised that he had gained nothing from the conversation that he did not already know. Chanter led him deep into a thick stand of trees, where he turned to face him.

  "I intend to make a blade that only you can wield, so I need you here."

  "Will it be as good as the black sword?"

  "Better."

  Kieran looked uneasy. "What must I do?"

  "What I tell you."

  Kieran nodded, and Chanter bent and laid his palms on the leafy ground. Dolana clamped down, freezing the air into eerie silence for a moment. Kieran took a deep breath as the manifestation released him, and the Mujar straightened. He held his hands before him, making odd, graceful motions with his fingers, as if pulling a thread so fine that to clasp it would break it. Chanter raised his head and invoked Crayash.

  Kieran gasped and reeled as the screaming inferno engulfed him, fighting the urge to beat at the spectral flames. The illusory fire lasted only a few seconds, and Kieran swallowed the sooty after taste. The Mujar continued to make slow beckoning motions to the earth, and now tiny flames danced around his fingers, following their graceful motions in a stately gambol of golden sparkles. A chill invaded the air, and frost formed on the ground in a circle of glittering ice. It spread outwards in a creeping white carpet that almost immediately melted at the centre.