Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law Read online

  The chaos beasts attacked with the mindless fervour of the insane, erupting from the ground or dropping from the trees to slay as many as they could before they died. Orland soon learnt the folly of sending out scouts when he encountered their torn and mangled bodies impaled on trees beside the road. There were nights when the campfires gave no warmth, and other times when the air became difficult to breathe. Soldiers fell to strange illnesses that killed them in mere moments. Some went mad and fled into the forest, where their howls could be heard from time to time.

  The troops’ discipline broke down under this endless onslaught, and they became dishevelled and unshaven, too tired to ride in ranks or wash their filthy clothes. The forest unleashed vile atrocities in the form of worms that crawled up the horses’ legs and devoured steed and rider alive unless driven away with fire. Men turned on one another in the night and slew their comrades while in the grip of delusions brought on by intense fatigue. Once, the trees dripped slime that burnt like acid, making the soldiers and their mounts scream and run about tearing at their flesh in an orgy of pain. Many times, Talsy thought that they would not survive the journey, and prayed for Chanter to save them or for the gods to put an end to the madness. She longed for the safety of the valley she feared they would never reach, and when at last the forest ended she could hardly believe so many had survived.

  Chapter Four

  Talsy stared across the sunlit bowl of Chanter’s valley at the snow-capped mountains that ringed it like jagged white teeth. From her high window, she sniffed the scented breeze that ruffled the curtains and smelt within it the promise of rain. In the distance, herds of sheep and cattle grazed, the faint bleating of lambs mixed with the soft ringing of the cow’s bells. Her eyes never wearied of the mesmerising sight, which imparted its peace in Chanter’s absence.

  Two months of gruelling travel had brought them home, battered and numbed by the horrors they had witnessed in the forest. The journey had taken its toll, and almost half the soldiers had fallen to the chaos beasts’ predations and the land’s ever increasing madness. She shuddered at the memory, still haunted by it in horrible dreams that dragged her screaming from her sleep. When they had finally quit it, Orland had led them through a narrow pass that had opened onto a vast plain dotted with rock claws.

  Chanter had joined them there, the black army left behind in the mountains to struggle with the elements of a world gone mad. Although their suffering saddened the Mujar, he took no blame for their demise since he had had no hand in it other than to lead them astray. Talsy wondered at his strange logic, but remembered the time when he had disowned the soldiers from the doomed tar town, leaving their fate to the land’s mercy. As before the breaking of the Staff of Law, a Mujar would take no part in killing, but would stand by and watch unchosen die without regret.

  Talsy had spent the last two weeks of the journey on a litter that four burly soldiers carried. As her belly had swelled, she found she could not stay awake for more than a few hours at a time, and became so tired that she fell asleep in the saddle. When she had been awake, a terrible hunger had forced her to consume prodigious amounts of food, yet the flesh melted from her and her teeth had become loose. Her skin had taken on a pale, waxy look, and her hair fell out in hanks. Several times, she had noticed Kieran and Chanter muttering together when they thought that she was asleep, the Prince pleading and the Mujar shaking his head. Her lethargy and mental torpor had not allowed her to ponder this, and she had dismissed it as unimportant.

  Upon her arrival in the valley, Chanter had taken it upon himself to raise a castle of smooth grey bedrock for her to live in, a small but elegant fortress. He had modelled it on Trueman castles he had seen, and made a surprisingly good job of it with a little help from Kieran. Sheera had been horrified by Talsy’s condition and appointed herself nursemaid. As soon as Talsy was installed in her new domicile, Chanter had vanished without farewell. This had not overly concerned her, for all her interest was now focussed on the new life growing within her, making its presence felt. All of her waking moments were centred upon it, and, when she was not eating, she talked endlessly to Sheera about it.

  Kieran remained distant but supportive, and at times he sat with her when Sheera was busy, listening to her ramblings. After a week to recover from the journey, Orland had returned to his father’s city with his army, which the valley could not feed. He assured them that he and his men would not brave the forest a second time, but would take an even longer route around the woods, staying in open country where the chaos beasts could not hide.

  Two months later, Chanter had returned with the fourth piece of the staff. Sorrow had haunted his eyes, a silent testimony to the horrors he had witnessed beyond the valley. Talsy had smiled at the broken piece of grey stone, but had been unable to summon any enthusiasm, the coming birth of her child overshadowing her ambition to restore the staff. The four pieces lay on a sheet of crimson velvet in an empty tower room, a five-foot broken staff missing its metal-bound foot.

  Since then, two more months of balmy, sun-filled days had passed within the valley, sheltered from the chaos by Chanter’s power. Dargon had invaded the haven in increasing numbers, bringing a wealth of fecundity to the soil and allowing monstrous crops to be grown. The grass grew so fast the beasts could not crop it quickly enough, and the grazers became fat. Chanter had ordered hundreds of trees to be planted around the copse by the lake, and a young forest sprouted with amazing speed. Life in the valley remained idyllic, and nothing disturbed Talsy in her ripening pregnancy. Sheera diligently rubbed oil into her turgid belly, now swollen to such proportions that walking was a major task, and she had not seen her feet for some time.

  Chanter left from time to time to fly over the mountains, returning bristling with wild beauty and burdened with intense sorrow. He had left three days ago now, or was it four? Talsy frowned. The amount of sleep she craved distorted her sense of time, and days tended to blur together with nights. She sighed and turned from the window, her feet and back aching from standing even for a few minutes. The child kicked, making her gasp and clasp the hard bulge of her belly. He kicked often now, waking her at night when she felt him pushing at her flesh. She smiled and rubbed her belly as it bulged, its small occupant shifting, maybe stretching as he woke. Tottering across the room, she sat on the bed. Hunger gnawed at her again, and she reached for the silver bell Sheera had given her to summon aid.

  Before she grasped it, pain tore through her, and she gasped, biting her lip. As it subsided, she rang the bell. Sheera appeared within minutes, looking worried when her gaze raked Talsy’s pale face.

  “What is it child? Has it started?”

  Talsy nodded, gasping when another pain lanced through her.

  Sheera turned away. “I’ll call the midwife.”

  Talsy lay back as the old woman hurried out, and a twinge of fear accompanied the next crushing pain. After months of living in a happy daze, the birth pains’ onset brought the world back into sharp focus, like a rosy veil drawn aside to reveal the harsh reality she had been blind to for so long.

  Sheera returned to help her get comfortable, clucking like a mother hen as she arranged the cushions and blotted sweat from Talsy’s brow. The pains came faster now, and Talsy’s fear increased. She gripped Sheera’s arm and pulled her closer.

  “Where’s the midwife?”

  “Coming, child. She’s on her way.”

  Talsy gasped and clenched her teeth. “Is it normally so painful?”

  “Yes, always.”

  “Chanter said I would die.”

  Sheera clicked her tongue. “Now, now, there’s no reason to worry, dear, you’re bang on time. Nine moons exactly, if you got your dates right.”

  Talsy forced a rictus of a smile. “I told him, didn’t I?”

  “You did, and you were right.”

  “Where is he?” she demanded. “He should be here, it’s his child!”

  “He went away for a while, you know that.”

 
“He must come back!”

  Sheera shook her head. “This is woman’s work, and not for men to witness.”

  Talsy arched her back as a pain shot through her, and a gush of fluid burst from her. Sheera busied herself replacing the wet sheets while Talsy writhed and moaned. The plump, merry-faced midwife arrived, panting a little from the long climb up the stairs. She examined Talsy and nodded with satisfaction, then settled in a chair by the fire and lighted a pipe.

  Talsy shot her an angry glance. “What the hell are you doing? Help me!”

  The motherly midwife chuckled and spoke in a thick brogue. “Nothin’ I can do yet, lass, ‘tis your job to push the bairn out, not mine. When it starts to birth, I’ll help ye. You just get to pushin’.”

  Talsy gritted her teeth and growled, but another pain robbed her of breath with which to argue. Sheera soothed her and wiped her brow with a damp cloth, murmuring words of encouragement. Talsy cursed and groaned.

  “I’m not doing this again,” she gritted. “No one told me it would hurt like this.”

  “What did ye think,” the midwife chortled, “it’d just pop out?”

  “Something like that.”

  “They say the pain of birth would kill a man,” the midwife confided encouragingly.

  “Tisha, that’s not a thing to tell her now,” Sheera remonstrated.

  The midwife shrugged and puffed her pipe. “Tis true.”

  Although Talsy did not believe the pains could get any worse, they did, growing in intensity and duration until she seemed to spend hours arched in spasms of mind-bending agony. She strived not to scream, and bit her lip until it bled. Sheera urged her to vent her pain, and eventually she could not help herself. Her screams echoed through the castle, and the first brought Kieran galloping in, ashen-faced. The midwife flew at him and beat him from the room with swings of her wooden basin, then locked the door in the face of his bellows of concern. He pounded on the door until Sheera was forced to go out and reassure him.

  The daylight dwindled as the sun sank behind the mountains, and still Talsy writhed in agony. She glimpsed blood-stained sheets being whipped away by Sheera and two other women who had come to help, one of them Kieran’s mother, Queen Kamish. Lamps were brought and the fire fed to keep the room warm. Sheera gave Talsy sips of water as she sweated and strained. By the time the lamps’ oil had been refilled twice, the midwife looked concerned. She drew Sheera aside for a muttered discussion, shaking her head. Talsy groaned and cursed, her throat raw and her belly aching even when spasms did not rack it. Sheera returned to the bed, her eyes shadowed with anxiety.

  “Talsy, I think you should call Chanter.”

  “Why, what is it?”

  “Tisha says it’s been too long, and no progress has been made.”

  “No progress?” Talsy gasped. “After all that? He should be here! Maybe he’s been locked outside with Kieran?”

  Sheera looked doubtful, but rose and slipped out into the corridor.

  Kieran straightened from his dejected pose on a chair by the door, his hair on end from running anxious hands through it. He gazed at Sheera with hopeful eyes.

  “Is she all right? Is it over?”

  A hoarse scream from within answered him, and Sheera closed the door. “Do you know where Chanter is?”

  Kieran glanced around, and the Mujar stepped into the light of a lamp on the wall.

  “He’s been here for hours,” Kieran said, “but he didn’t want to intrude. I told him men aren’t allowed inside. What’s wrong?”

  Sheera shook her head. “She’s having trouble. We thought maybe Chanter could help.”

  The Prince shot Chanter a haggard look. “It’s time.”

  The Mujar nodded. “Now it’s time.”

  “Time?” Sheera looked confused. “Time for what?”

  “Time to put an end to this,” Kieran said, starting to brush past the old woman.

  Sheera grabbed his arm. “What are you going to do?”

  “Save her.” He pushed her aside and entered the room. Her eyes widened when she noticed the sword at his side, which he had not worn for months. The stink of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air, and startled women looked up from their tasks.

  “Out,” he snapped, jerking a thumb at the door.

  They gabbled in protest, and Kieran grabbed the nearest, his mother, and hustled her towards the door.

  “What are you doing?” the Queen demanded with a frown.

  “Do you want her to die?” Kieran demanded.

  “Of course not!”

  “Then leave us alone.”

  The Queen retreated from his frown, and the second woman followed, but the midwife had to be ejected forcibly, and her voluble insults continued long after two men had dragged away her down the stairs. Kieran found Chanter in the corridor and pulled the reluctant Mujar into the room. Chanter’s eyes flinched from Talsy’s haggard face as he came to stand beside the bed.

  “So much pain,” he whispered, staring down at her.

  She groped for his hand and clung to it. “Don’t let me die. You promised.”

  “I won’t,” he murmured. “I’ll save you.”

  “And the baby?”

  “If we can, we’ll save it too.”

  Her eyes grew wild. “You must save him!”

  “We’ll try.” Chanter laid a hand on her brow. “Your body has decided that it’s time for his birth, but he does not wish to be born yet. We have to take him out now, or you’ll both perish.”

  She subsided, her expression filling with anguish. “I want my son.”

  He nodded. “I know. Sleep now. When you wake, he’ll be here.”

  Talsy’s eyes closed as his command swept her away into a dark ocean of slumber. Chanter turned to Kieran, who stood at the foot of the bed, bile stinging his throat.

  He shot the Mujar a furtive look. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “You must; you promised.”

  Kieran shook his head. “You do it. You can use the sword as well as I.”

  “I cannot. If I cut out the child and it dies, I will have killed it, and you know I can’t do that.”

  “It wouldn’t be deliberate,” the Prince protested.

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “You and your damn scruples.” His hand dropped to the sword hilt. “I love her, yet I must be the one to gut her.”

  “To save her.”

  Kieran’s mouth twisted. “Yeah, right. A pity all this couldn’t have been avoided.”

  “Indeed.” Chanter remained expressionless, and his lack of rebuke for the unwarranted jibe shamed the Prince, who looked away.

  Drawing the Starsword with a slither of steel, he walked around to the side of the bed. “I don’t know where to cut her. Maybe we should call a doctor?”

  Chanter shook his head. “I’d say it’s fairly obvious.”

  The Prince glanced at Talsy’s peaceful face. “She won’t feel anything?”

  “Nothing,” the Mujar assured him.

  Kieran lifted the sword and laid its edge upon Talsy’s swollen belly, biting his lip in a moment of hesitation before pressing down gently on the blade. The sword cut flesh far easier than stone, and sliced through her skin so swiftly that moments passed before blood welled forth. Kieran put the blade aside and stared at the incision, then pushed his hands into it with a grimace and groped within until he grasped a slippery arm. He followed that to its head and gripped it, then pulled a struggling child into the light. The baby wriggled, almost making him drop it, and he put it on the sheet beside its mother. The infant balled its fists and let out a wail of outrage.

  “It’s alive,” he murmured, shooting a triumphant glance at the Mujar, who nodded. The Prince examined the infant. “A boy.”

  “Talsy will be pleased,” Chanter commented.

  Kieran bit back a retort and cut the cord, wrapped the child in a sheet and stepped away. “Your turn.”

  Chanter approached the bed and scooped water from
a basin beside it, pouring it over the long gash in the girl’s belly. Placing his hands on either side of it, he let the power of Shissar flow through him, bringing with it the soft misty wetness of its manifestation. The cut closed, leaving a long pink scar, and he straightened and placed a hand on Talsy’s brow.

  “Awake, your child is here.”

  Talsy gasped, and her eyes flew open to hunt for the source of the wails. Kieran placed the bundle in her arms. She gazed down at the tiny wrinkled face with awe and joy, tears seeping from her eyes. Kieran joined Chanter at the window. The Mujar gazed out at the pale streaks of dawn that probed over the distant mountains, filling the valley with pearly light. Kieran leant on the wall beside him and watched Talsy counting fingers and toes.

  “She’s happy.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not.”

  “No.”

  “He looks pretty normal to me.”

  The Mujar shrugged. “Time will tell.”

  The door rattled under a thunderous banging, and Kieran went to open it, admitting a flood of women led by Sheera and the irate midwife. They crowded around Talsy to admire the wailing new-born, ask questions and give instructions. The midwife turned on Kieran and had her revenge by ejecting him into the corridor again. When her glinting eyes sought the Mujar, he avoided humiliation by turning into a raven taking wing into the pale dawn sky. Kieran went down to the kitchen to celebrate with a mug of ale, where a throng of male well-wishers from amongst the chosen joined him. His happiness that Talsy was safely delivered of the half-breed child was tinged with a dark thread of bitterness and worry, which he made a valiant attempt to drown that day.