Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law (18 page)

They had
driven more spikes into him, dropped heavy rocks on his limbs had
smashed his bones to splinters, and no rain had healed those wounds
since then. Once he had turned completely to stone, he would be
safe from harm, but trapped in his useless body for another
ninety-four years.

Law was barely
aware of the commotion in the city, the patter of running feet as
people rushed around. Shugin’s bellowing hardly impinged on his
dull mind, and when someone trod on him, he did not even
flinch.

Kieran led the
chosen into the city, riding beside Jesher at the head of the
column of plumed and painted Aggapae, imposing on their proud,
prancing steeds. Talsy rode behind him, Shan at her side, Thorn
guiding her horse. The city folk gawped and pointed, jabbered and
snatched bloated children from the horses’ path. Rags clad their
thin, filthy forms, and their hollow eyes stared from gaunt faces.
The city stank of refuse and excrement, and the crowd reeked of
unwashed bodies. Some bore chaos scars in the form of withered
limbs or twisted features, patches of scales or fur sprouting from
their dirty skins, mutated by the lawless land.

Strutting
hunters guarded the Aggapae column, one trotting ahead to lead them
deeper into the maze of foul, twisted roads. More and more men
emerged from dingy side streets and dark dwellings, surprising in
their number. They had the half crazed look of the starving, their
eyes fixed on the horses’ glossy hides as if measuring the meat
under it. All held weapons, from well-honed spears to crude clubs,
and Talsy suspected that her imposing force was outnumbered.

They stopped
before a hirsute, brutal looking man with a low brow and a broken
nose, who blocked their path. From his tattered finery, she deduced
that he was the city’s chieftain. At first, she thought his hair
was black, but then she realised that he wore a Mujar’s withered
scalp, and her stomach clenched. The hunters gathered around their
chief, forming a wall of scrawny bodies and hostile faces. Others
stood amongst the women and children who ringed the chosen in a
curious throng. Kieran addressed the chief from the lofty perch of
his tall sorrel steed.

“
Greetings.”

The chief
glared. “Who are you, and why have you come here?”

Kieran ignored
the man’s churlish tone. “We’re a wandering tribe, and we’ve heard
about the Mujar you’ve captured.”

“
Really.” The chief glanced around. “News travels
fast.”

“
Sometimes,” the Prince allowed.

“
You and your steeds look fat, for wanderers.”

“
We do all right, moving from one good spot to
another.”

The chief’s
eyes narrowed. “I thought all the good spots were taken.”

“
They are. We barter and trade. Sometimes we fight.”

Shugin eyed
the big warrior, thinking fast. Ever since only ten of the thirty
gatherers and hunters he had sent to the wood had returned empty
handed, each with a tale of the land attacking them, his people had
gone hungry and blamed him for their woes. The Mujar had agreed to
nothing despite the worst tortures he could devise, and many of his
people had questioned his ability to lead them. Perhaps this was an
opportunity to regain their esteem.

“
So why did the tale of our Mujar bring you to us?” he
asked.

The stranger
shrugged. “He belongs in a Pit, and we can take him there.”

“
Maybe we want to keep him.”

“
And risk him escaping? I want the satisfaction of throwing him
in a Pit myself. I might be willing to trade for him, and you don’t
seem to have anything else to offer.”

Shugin bridled
at the insult. “We have good steel weapons.”

“
I have enough.”

“
We have women.”

“
So do we.”

Shugin
growled, “I only see one.”

“
We didn’t bring them with us.”

“
You left them in the chaos?”

“
They’re guarded,” the man said. “We have more men
outside.”

“
A large tribe,” Shugin remarked. “What do you have to
trade?”

“
Food. Good fresh stuff.” Kieran gestured, and one of the pack
horses came forward at Nort’s command. An Aggapae warrior opened
the packs to reveal fresh fruit and berries picked in the forest.
The chief scowled at the bounty.

“
Where did you get that?”

“
That’s our business.”

“
I’d rather have meat. A few of those fat horses would do
nicely.” The chief leered.

“
They’re not for trade. We need them.”

“
Come down, we’ll go inside and talk, have a drink. Maybe we
can work something out.”

Kieran shook
his head. “I’m in a hurry, and besides, I won’t leave my warriors
standing in the street while I drink. Unless you have room for all
of us at your table, I suggest we do our business here.”

The chief
said, “Well come down, anyway, I’m getting a crick in my neck.”

Kieran
dismounted to confront the chief, his hand caressing the hilt of
his sword. The dirty man was still shorter by several inches, and
his scowl deepened. Sullenly he introduced himself, and Kieran
reciprocated, adding, “So, do you still have the Mujar?”

“
Of course.” Shugin gestured behind him. “He’s right over
there.”

Talsy stifled
a gasp as the warriors behind the chief stepped aside and she
glimpsed the strange Mujar staked out on the tar with iron. His
skin was pale, his head shorn, and he lay as still as a statue.

Kieran glanced
past Shugin, then back at the chief. “Will you trade for him?”

“
You’re willing to trade good food for a useless
Mujar?”

“
We have it to spare.” Kieran shrugged. “Like I said, I want to
be the one to throw him in a Pit.”

Shugin’s eyes
narrowed. “It’ll cost you all you have.”

Talsy slumped
with relief, and Kieran smiled. “All that I’m willing to part with,
but it’s quite a lot.”

“
Let’s see it.”

The Prince
gestured, and five more pack horses came forward. The Aggapae had
spent the entire morning gathering food, and Chanter had spurred
the trees to ripen their fruit and unearthed edible tubers. At his
urging, the forest had yielded a veritable mountain of food. Two
Aggapae dismounted and opened the packs to display the formidable
array of wares. The starving people gulped at the sight, and hungry
children wailed. Shugin stepped closer and sampled a fruit, juice
running down his chin. With an obvious effort, he handed the half
eaten fruit to one of his warriors, denying his own hunger, and
faced Kieran proudly.

“
The food is good. We will trade with you. All this, for the
Mujar.” He indicated the six pack horses as if it was more than
Kieran had offered.

Kieran nodded.
“Agreed. Bring the Mujar here, and your people can take the
food.”

Shugin
signalled to his warriors, and four loped off towards the Mujar.
Talsy looked away while they pried the iron spikes from his hands
and feet, leaving bloodless holes. Two warriors lifted him, and his
head lolled forward. For the first time, she glimpsed the blue
Mujar mark on the back of a true Mujar’s scalp, smaller than her
own, but distinctly visible under the thin veil of black stubble.
Shugin’s eyes narrowed when he noticed the mark, until now hidden,
since the strange Mujar had lain on his back. His gaze travelled to
the Aggapae, each tattooed with the identical mark, though theirs
were black. His eyes came to rest on her brow, and he frowned.

“
How is it that you all carry the same mark as he has, save the
woman?”

The Prince
shrugged, belying his tension with feigned disinterest. “It’s a
tribal marking. We’ve never seen one on a Mujar before.”

“
Where did you get this mark?”

“
It’s been handed down for generations, a mere
coincidence.”

Shugin drew
himself up and stepped back, his hand seeking the hilt of his
sword. “I don’t believe you. I’ve heard tales of a tribe that fled
the chaos, and are hidden in a distant valley, guarded by a Mujar,
living a good life while the rest of us suffer and perish. It’s
said that they all carry the mark of the accursed Mujar, and call
themselves the Chosen. You’re not here to throw him in a Pit,
you’re damned Mujar lovers! You’ve come to free the dirty
scum!”

Shugin’s sword
hissed from its scabbard, and Kieran drew the Starsword, raising it
to meet the chieftain’s attack. Shugin’s blade shattered, and the
Starsword almost sliced him in half. Shugin’s warriors roared and
charged the Aggapae, who hurled their spears, felling many, then
drew their short stabbing spears for close combat. The women and
children scuttled from the fray with shrieks of fear, vanishing
down the many side streets. Kieran used the Starsword’s fire to
slay dozens with broad sweeps. The Aggapae’s horses lashed out with
flinty hooves, felling those their riders did not reach in time.
Talsy’s mare squealed and kicked, forcing her to cling to the
animal’s long mane, her dagger gripped in a white-knuckled
fist.

The Mujar lay
where the warriors had dropped him, and Talsy urged her mare
towards him, but Thorn’s order to fight controlled her mount.
Jammed in a melee of cavorting horses and swinging swords, Talsy
looked around for help. Kieran stood alone, wielding the Starsword
in mighty strokes that burnt dozens each time he cried ‘fire’.
Arrows hissed into the fray as enemy bowmen swarmed onto nearby
rooftops and let fly. Horses squealed as vicious shafts pierced
their flesh, and riders fell with screams. A huge black horse
barged into Talsy’s steed as Shan strived to impose himself between
her and the hail of death. Talsy grabbed the young warrior’s arm,
bellowing at him over the din.

“
We’ve got to get the Mujar!”

Shan nodded
and stabbed a warrior, who fell back with a scream. He spoke into
Thorn’s twitching ear, and the big horse neighed as he turned.
Other horses answered the call, communicating with their riders,
and a bunch forged through the melee towards the prone Mujar.
Kieran leapt aboard his steed, and the Starsword’s fire drove back
the wall of warriors that blocked their way, forcing most to dive
for cover as flames killed their comrades. Enemy fighters pulled
screaming horses down and stabbed them, their riders flung into the
fracas to be slain in turn.

Talsy strived
to shut her ears to the sounds, concentrating on reaching the
Mujar. A riderless horse appeared beside her as her mare stopped
next to the motionless unman, and she leapt down, safe within a
ring of fighters. Shan joined her, put down his short sword and
jerked the spear from the Mujar’s flesh. His blood reddened their
hands as he and Talsy lifted the slender unman and thrust him onto
the riderless horse. He hung limply, forcing them to hold him on
the horse. They mounted and moved their steeds beside him, penning
him between them. Shan ordered the three horses from the battle,
flanked by Aggapae who defended their retreat as they forged
towards the deserted streets that led out of the city.

Warriors
rushed to block their way, but the Aggapae’s horses thrust them
aside, allowing Talsy and Shan to break free. Flanked by a small
group of horsemen, they galloped through the twisted streets,
hanging onto the flopping Mujar on the horse between them. Arrows
whistled in pursuit, and a stab of pain in her shoulder made Talsy
gasp and wobble. Thorn squealed as an arrow sprouted from his rump,
and several others slumped or fell as death rained from the sky.
Brilliant blue fire burst in their wake, and Talsy glanced up as a
shadow passed over her with a high-pitched scream. The eagle
swooped low, and blue fire exploded amongst their pursuers, forcing
them to dive aside to avoid it.

The rest of
the Aggapae leapt through the Mujar’s fire as it dwindled, cutting
down foes who flung themselves at the horsemen with maniacal zest.
Talsy clung to her mare’s thick mane as they galloped, the
chestnut’s shoulder pressed to the horse beside her, matching him
stride for stride and holding the Mujar in place. Shan hung onto
the unman’s torn jacket as Thorn sprinted through the streets, the
arrow protruding from his rump. Their escorts ploughed into the
warriors who leapt into their path, cutting down any who challenged
them.

Chanter
swooped again, and gouts of blue fire exploded amid the enemy.
Archers sent arrows buzzing viciously upwards in retaliation. The
city’s massive wooden gates swung shut as a group of warriors
strived to foil their escape. The men in front of them turned to
grin at their trapped enemies, and the horses slowed. Talsy stared
in dismay at the solid, brass bound wooden gates that blocked their
way. An eagle’s scream split the air, and Chanter swooped over
them, his shadow a black cross on the tar. The gates exploded in a
great wall of Mujar fire, flinging the warriors aside with shrieks
of pain.

The three
horses leapt the burning wood abreast and galloped towards the tiny
forest. Talsy glanced back as they thundered away, afraid for
Kieran and the rest still fighting within the city. High above,
Chanter swung back towards the battle, leaving them to gallop to
the wood’s safety with an escort of twenty warriors and ten
riderless horses.

By the time
they reached it, Talsy could barely cling to her mare’s mane. Deep
within the shady green realm, the panting horses stopped and their
exhausted riders slid off. Shan pulled Talsy down and supported her
as she staggered on rubbery legs. Blood ran from her shoulder under
her clothes, and shafts of pain lanced through her at every
movement. The young warrior pushed her down on the grass, careful
not to touch the protruding arrow.