Kieran nodded. "That's it?"
"What more do you want?"
"Nothing. It just seems so simple."
"It is." Chanter swung away, and Kieran trotted after him.
"When do we go?"
"Soon, I imagine. Ask Talsy."
"Of course," Kieran muttered. "She's the boss."
Chanter shot him an amused look. "I understand that you Trueman males feel threatened by authoritative women. Does it bother you so much? Tax your male ego?"
"No, it taxes my sanity. I've never met such a hard-headed woman. She's not even a woman, she's just a girl. Hell, I'm ten years older than her and that much wiser, but she makes the decisions."
"That's because she's the First Chosen. If not for her, none of this would be happening."
Kieran grunted. "So she's a sweet girl when she wants to be, and she knows how to wrap a Mujar around her finger. But she shouldn't be in charge. She doesn't have the experience or the knowledge."
"I don't think you're qualified to judge her. She's done things that no one else ever would. She's earned the right to give the orders, where I'm concerned. If you don't wish to join us, that's up to you. Stay here and guard the chosen."
"No. I'm coming with you."
"Good." Chanter lengthened his strides, which Kieran took to mean that the talk was over. They returned to the village, and, just after they entered it, Kieran found himself alone.
Many leagues away, the men of a city gathered on its walls to stare out at the approaching black finger of death. The Hashon Jahar galloped towards them in ragged lines, the rows uneven, many with only three Riders, some with two. A steed fell and did not rise. There were only about two hundred of them, and they looked stiff, like animated statues. The Riders entered the black web of tar that surrounded the city and more stumbled, two coming to a stop and remaining immobile. The rest fanned out, forming an uneven line with gaps in it, their lances askew.
The Truemen atop the wooden walls muttered and frowned, hefted their weapons and glanced at the barrels of refined oil and torches that waited in readiness. The city behind them lay in a thrall of silence, its citizens waiting for death. Life had taken a turn for the better in this Trueman city, where unexpected happenings had led to wealth amongst its people. Like the strange breeding of sheep and pigs, producing an animal far superior to its parents, whose flesh was delicious and constitution remarkable.
As yet, the shigs were young, but had already proven their worth, eating just about anything and thriving on it. One man had hit upon the idea of breeding cats and dogs together, and his puttens were selling well. A farmer had found that his tomatoes and potatoes had cross pollinated, creating plants that bore tomatoes above the ground and potatoes below. In a flurry of excited experimentation, men who enjoyed such things had mated with goats, horses and cows, the results eagerly awaited. Rumour had it that a child had wandered from the tar and the ground had not eaten him, but as yet no adult had dared to test this theory.
The men, some soon to be fathers of a new race of crossbreeds, shifted as they waited, grim faced. As the Hashon Jahar's formation became complete, they lowered their lances and charged the wall. Men leapt to tilt the barrels while others let fly with spears and arrows. Most of the Black Riders never reached the wall, but fell during the charge. Some thrashed feebly, others lay still. The wall's timbers creaked and shimmered under the assault of the Black Riders' Dolana, but it was still solid when the Riders crashed into it. Some were smashed to black rubble, others froze, and a few milled in confusion. The men atop the wall hurled burning oil down on them, and those that still moved soon stopped. The men cheered, at first hesitantly, then with growing enthusiasm, which was picked up by the citizens and spread through the city. The Hashon Jahar had been defeated for the first time.
Talsy glared at the Prince. "Why does he have to come?"
Chanter shrugged, smiling. "He has the sword."
"We don't need him."
They stood outside her hut, a few bags containing supplies at their feet. The sun peeked through the mountains, started to flood the valley with its light and dry the shining dew from the grass. Talsy lifted her chin, frowning at Chanter. Kieran looked cross, while Chanter appeared amused. The Prince shot the Mujar a hard look, defying him to give in to her. Chanter ignored him, his eyes on Talsy.
"He could be useful."
"For what?" she demanded. "All he ever does is argue, get in the way and make a mess of things, like with Tyrander."
Kieran opened his mouth to protest, but Chanter was quicker. "You didn't look like you hated him so much when I found you shielding him from the mage."
Talsy's cheeks flamed, and she rounded on the Mujar. "I would have done the same for anyone!"
"He got you out of danger when I was pinned down by the traitors at that camp."
"You made the walls of rock!"
"He carried you along it," Chanter pointed out.
"Against my will!"
"He carried me into the sea when I was too hurt to walk."
She glared. "I would have done it."
"Could you?"
"I would have done something." She switched her glare to Kieran. "If he comes, he doesn't argue with me or get in my way."
Chanter sighed and looked at the Prince, who shrugged. "Agreed."
Talsy picked up her bags and slung them over her shoulder, shooting a parting glare at them. Before she had gone two paces down the road, eight horses rounded the hut in front of her. Five of them carried riders and four of the riders wore war paint and carried a selection of weapons tucked into their belts and slung across their backs. Talsy recognised Jesher, who was unpainted, Brin, and Shan aboard the black colt. She stopped in surprise when the headman jumped down from his grey stallion and approached Chanter.
He bowed. "I apologise for my rudeness, Mujar. I never thought to see a cripple of your kind. In reparation, I offer four warriors to help and protect you on your quest. Also, these three good horses, the mounts of fallen warriors, have agreed to carry you on your journey."
The Mujar shook his head. "We don't need -"
"Yes we do!" Talsy hurried over. "We need horses. You can't provide transport anymore. They'll speed our journey, let us finish the quest before things get too bad."
Chanter smiled and shrugged, turning away to sit on a nearby rock as if expecting a long discussion. He was not disappointed, for Talsy turned to Jesher with a determined air.
"We don't need the warriors, thank you."
Jesher shook his head. "You do, since you can't speak to the horses."
"Then we only need one."
"And who'll guard his back?"
She grunted. "Then we only need two."
"And when will they sleep?"
Talsy rolled her eyes. "Chanter never sleeps."
"He only guards you."
"When he's around," Kieran chimed in.
Talsy shot him a warning look, and he smiled, glancing away. "This is turning into a three-ring circus."
"Did you want a bit of privacy then?" Kieran asked.
"Do you want to be left behind?"
He raised his hands. "I'm not arguing."
Talsy turned back to Jesher. "Only three then, not the boy, he's far too young."
"I agree, but the horses want him to go," the headman said.
"The horses?" She looked disbelieving.
Jesher nodded. "Thorn found the stone, and Shan thinks he can find more. The horses agree, so he must go."
"The colt then, not the boy."
Jesher spread his hands. "The two are inseparable, I'm afraid."
Talsy tossed Chanter a pleading look, but the Mujar leant against the hut, his hand behind his head, apparently asleep. She sighed. "Well, if we're going to have company, it may as well be a crowd."
Jesher beamed. "I would come, but Nort is herd stallion and can't leave the mares. Brin will take care of the boy."
"Good. I don't want to wipe snotty noses and bandage scraped kn
ees."
"He's only a year younger than you," Kieran pointed out.
She shot him a look that boded ill for him and turned to look at the horses. "Which one's mine?"
"They will decide," Jesher said. He spoke to his stallion, and the three riderless horses approached. A big piebald went to Kieran and sniffed him, then shoved him with its nose.
"That one's yours," Jesher explained.
A lovely grey, so pale that he was almost pure white, brushed past Talsy and stopped before the Mujar, bowing his head. Chanter opened his eyes and leant forward to stroke the animal's nose. Jesher smiled and turned back to the last horse. The dainty bay walked up to Talsy and butted her in the chest. She stroked him as she stared at Chanter, surprised that he was going to ride the grey.
"I thought you didn't like horses being ridden?"
He shook his head. "These are not slaves, they're here of their own free will."
When the bags were loaded onto the horses, Talsy scrambled aboard the bay and Kieran mounted the piebald with the ease of a born horseman. The pale grey horse lifted a foreleg for Chanter to mount, just as the Mujar had done for Talsy when in horse form. Jesher led the little procession towards the wall, and the chosen gathered in the street to watch them pass, waving and calling good wishes. Talsy waved to Sheera, who dabbed her eyes and forced a brave smile as Shern put a comforting arm around her shoulders. The Queen gazed at Kieran, then turned to away with a despairing expression when he ignored her.
Beyond the village, the horses broke into a canter across the velvet grass. Talsy noticed that her horse stayed close to Brin's while Kieran's paired up with the woman warrior's. Chanter's animal moved alone, as did Shan's and the other warrior's, Taff.
When they reached the wall, Jesher pulled the leather bag that held the Stone from his tunic. Chanter gestured at the wall, and the Mujar mark flared blue. As the gate opened, Jesher turned to his son and shook the boy's hand. He shot Brin a meaningful look, then looked at Chanter.
"Mujar, a question."
Chanter inclined his head. "One."
"How do we close the gate?"
"Don't open it."
Jesher nodded, looking grim, and raised his hand in farewell as the party moved past him. Shan turned to wave before the gate closed behind them, blocking out the sunlit valley, and his father.
Chapter Five
The riven earth and the frozen forms of the Hashon Jahar made Talsy shiver. Moments earlier, Chanter had called her horse forward, and they stood at the edge of this unnatural clearing, gazing at the strangest sight she had ever seen.
"A Hashon Jahar birthing ground," Chanter explained.
"They're being born?" she whispered, alarmed.
"They were. Now they're not doing anything."
The ebon forms were frozen in various attitudes, most in the act of climbing out of the soil, their hind parts still sunk in the earth, their steeds' forelegs braced to pull themselves from it. Several had emerged, but stood immobile, their stone eyes blind. Others had only their heads above the surface, while a few were merely lumps beneath the earth, unborn. The torn ground bore the scars of many birthings, the Riders gone, leaving only the craters of their emergence behind.
"They come from the soil?" Talsy asked.
"Far beneath the earth, where it's hot and full of earth blood, that's where they're conceived. Then they struggle up to the surface and emerge, like this."
"What's happened to them?"
"The staffs have been broken. Their power is dwindling, soon all they will be is statues."
"I can't say I'll be sorry to see the last of them," Talsy muttered, and Chanter shook his head.
"They had a purpose, and now the unchosen will be rife."
"And when we restore the Staff of Law?"
He smiled at her optimism. "Then you'll restore them, too."
Talsy shivered, and her horse followed his to where Kieran waited with the Aggapae. For a month now, they had travelled through wild country, finding little sign of corruption. For reasons of his own, Chanter had opted to go first to the Whispering Sea, a long and arduous journey. They followed a broad river, keeping to its banks as it flowed to the sea. The Aggapae provided meat by hunting, usually three of them going together, leaving Shan behind. The boy made himself useful gathering firewood and tending the horses, relieving the others of the chore.
That night, while the Aggapae hunted, Shan collected wood and Kieran bathed in the river, Talsy turned to Chanter.
"Why is it that the Aggapae and the Arrad weren't swallowed by the ground?"
"They're simple people. They don't ravage the land and build cities, so they haven't angered the Dargon. Also, the Dargon are most active around the cities, but the horsemen live far out in the plains, away from civilisation."
Talsy nodded, twiddling a stick. "When the staff is restored, will all the unnatural creatures that have been bred die?"
"Yes."
"So if we had a child -"
"Stop it."
She sighed. "Hypothetically."
"I don't know. It would depend upon how Mujar the child was."
"Because they can't be killed?"
"Yes."
Talsy glanced around as Shan emerged from the forest with an armload of firewood, frustrating her desire to ask more questions.
Two weeks later, they came across a Trueman city on the river bank, many boats and barges moored beside it, waiting to carry goods up and down the spate. A tar web surrounded it, dividing cultivated fields that farmers irrigated with river water. The party stopped within the forest's shelter, and Chanter regarded the city with sadness and aversion.
"We'll go around," he announced.
"Wait." Talsy stopped him as he turned his horse. "We need salt, flour, sugar and tea. Things we can't hunt in the forest."
The Mujar nodded, glancing at the Aggapae, who stared at the city with deep dislike. "The Aggapae won't want to go into it, but you will need protection."
She looked at Kieran. "Kieran will come."
The Prince raised his brows and smiled, earning himself a glare. "Sure, why not?" he drawled. "I could use a mug of ale."
"You go near an ale house, and I'll leave you in that stinking town," she warned.
Kieran chuckled, and the Mujar smiled. The Aggapae looked confused, not knowing about the friction between them.
"You'll have to walk," Chanter said. "The horses will stay with the Aggapae."
She shrugged. "It's not far, and Kieran can carry the supplies."
"Thanks," the Prince muttered.
"We'll go around and meet you on the far side," Chanter told her, adding, "Try not to get into trouble."
Talsy slid off her horse, taking empty bags to fill, and Kieran followed as she set off towards the city. For appearances sake, they stayed on the tar paths, hoping that no one would ask how they had reached the city. The stout wooden gates, set in a wall of mighty tree trunks bound together with dull metal, stood open. Two guards leant on their spears, exhausted from a day of doing nothing but watch people walk in and out of the city.
The town seemed prosperous, bustling with busy farmers, housewives and traders. Talsy headed towards the market in the centre of town, drawn by the shouts of vendors advertising their wares. A purse of silver coins jingled at her waist, gleaned from the chosen, who had no more use for money. For the most part, the city appeared normal, but in the market place her eyes were drawn to a pen of strange animals. They bleated and squealed, their plump torsos supported by short legs and their pink, snouted faces peering from under a fringe of woolly hair.
The proud farmer beamed at her interest in his stock. "Want to buy, madam? Best shigs in the city! Just weaned. Fatten them up a bit more, and they're ready for the table. The skins will make a fine soft coat for you too."
Talsy shuddered. "What are they?"
"Pig cross sheep, a wonderful new breed. Next I plan to breed them to goats."
"Why?"
"So they'll give m
ilk, too!"
Talsy glanced at the Prince, who tried hard to hide his disgust and look interested. Shaking her head at the disappointed farmer, she hurried into the market. She purchased the supplies while Kieran shadowed her, his hand on the hilt of his sword, warding off would be thieves and beggars with a glare from his black eyes. Soon a bulging bag weighed him down, and he looked at an inn as they passed it. Talsy snorted and quickened her strides, heading for the gate. As they passed through a dilapidated neighbourhood, she spotted a sign advertising herbs, magic and potions. Interested, she stopped to study the sinister looking house. Dark curtains blocked its windows, and feathers and animal skulls adorned its doorway.
Kieran prodded her. "What are we waiting for?"
"Wait here." She headed for the house.
The Prince looked scornful. "Don't tell me you believe in that rubbish!"
"Just wait outside and guard the door."
He dumped the heavy bags at his feet. "Oh, great."
Talsy pushed open the door and entered a gloomy interior, pausing to let her eyes adjust. Cobwebs hung from dusty rafters under a sagging roof, and bunches of herbs and flowers dangled beneath them. Several tables held an assortment of unsavoury wares. Glass jars contained pickled animal parts, tins of powder gave off nasty smells and gnarled dried things, beyond the realms of identification, lay in mummified rows. The air smelt of spices and decay, and a guttering candle shed soft light on a pile of skulls and teeth. Talsy had decided to quit the witch's parlour when an ancient crone shuffled from the darkness and peered at her myopically.
"Can I help you, missy?" she quavered.
"I doubt it." Talsy headed for the door.
"You should try me first, you know." The crone's voice strengthened.
Talsy turned to face her, revolted by her seamed face and tattered black garb, which smelt as if it had never been washed. "Okay, I want a love potion."
"Ah." The witch revealed toothless gums. "A very common requirement, although a lass with your looks shouldn't need any such thing. Married, is he?" She plucked a dark vial from the table in a claw-like hand. "I have just the thing, guaranteed to make him as horny as a boar in rut."
Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law Page 8
