The Broken World Book Four: The Staff of Law

By T C Southwell

The broken world falls deeper into madness without the laws that govern life, and the son Talsy bears Chanter is an abomination, able to kill with his stunted powers. The young Mujar who roams the lawless land, blinded by golden fire, is the world’s last hope. The chosen must brave the madness to find him, but if the Ghost Riders find them only a creature of the chaos can save them...

• Language: English
• Publisher: T C Southwell
• Release date: Jan 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458116581

T C Southwell

T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa. T. C. Southwell has written over thirty fantasy and science fiction novels, as well as five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she is now a full-time writer.

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The Broken World Book Four

Staff of Law

T C Southwell

Published by T C Southwell at Smashwords

Copyright © 2010 T C Southwell

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Prologue

In a perfect world, the breaking of the laws has brought retribution to an alien race: Truemen. A peasant girl has befriended a denizen of this strange land, not knowing he holds the key to her people’s fate. Truemen hate the immortal Mujar and cast them into Pits, and the Hashon Jahar sweep across the land, slaughtering all in their path. When Talsy saves him and asks for nothing in return, Chanter marks her as worthy, and she becomes the First Chosen. Thus, fate changes for a chosen few, who set off for the Plains of Redemption to escape the Hashon Jahar.

A mad prince captures Talsy in a bid to save himself, and Chanter creates a Mujar weapon so Kieran, a chosen warrior, can free her. The Starsword contains the Powers of Earth and Fire, and when it falls into the wrong hands, impossible though that should be, it is used to break the Staff of Law.

The broken world descends into chaos, destined to unravel unless the Staff of Law is restored, but the pieces are lost. Knowing the world is doomed, Chanter creates a safe haven for the chosen, but Talsy persuades the Mujar to take her on a quest to find the pieces of the staff. Talsy conceives Chanter’s child, and they discover that the Hashon Jahar have re-animated, powered by the spirits they carry, and become Ghost Riders, or Torrak Jahar.

Even if they find the last shard of the Staff of Law and make it whole, the laws are lost forever, scattered by the winds and turned to dust. All except for the ones the blind Mujar, Law, carries in his mind, but he is lost in the chaos…

Chapter One

Talsy stared into the campfire, sunk in misery. For the past four days, she had been weak and shaky, her stomach constantly queasy, robbing her of her appetite. When she had asked the Mujar to help, he had regarded her with deep sadness and shaken his head.

I cannot. It’s the child that makes you sick.

The gruelling pace they had been forced to set over the past half-moon added to her illness. The Torrak Jahar dogged them, two days behind now because Chanter had gone back to lead them astray. The black army would soon make up the ground, however, not needing to stop for sleep or food. The riderless horses had left, peeling off in groups to lead the Torrak Jahar away on false trails for a while.

Tiredness weighed Talsy down no matter how much she slept. She clung to the palomino mare that carried her all day, longing to climb off and lie down. Chanter remained aloof and aloft as an eagle, unsympathetic to her plight. Kieran had offered sympathy and help, but she had rejected him. Since the night she had told him of the child, he had become more helpful and considerate, which only irked her in the face of Chanter’s lack. The Aggapae were supportive, and Mita had brewed herbal tea that helped to settle her stomach and allowed her to eat a little.

Kieran tore his eyes from the drooping girl on the other side of the fire and turned to the Mujar. She looks sicker every day.

Chanter nodded. It will get worse, but I believe she’ll get better after a while. Her body is adjusting to the thing it harbours.

How can you call your son a ‘thing’?

As yet, that’s all it is. I will never think of it as my son, or lay claim to it. It’s her child. She wanted it, and she conceived it through trickery.

Kieran frowned at the flames. You have no idea the joy I would feel right now, if that was my son she carried.

I wish it was.

I know it’s not your fault, and -

Hush.

Chanter straightened and turned his head, his nostrils flared. He adjusted his senses to exclude the visible world and perceive only the Powers, tuning his mind to the faint pinging that came along the lines of Dolana. The tingle that had alerted him strengthened into an icy wave that sent a frisson of fear through him. The pinging grew louder, and the lines of silver Power pulsed, brightening, then growing dark. He leapt to his feet.

Up the trees, everyone!

After a moment of stunned immobility, the chosen jumped up. Mita and Brin helped Talsy to a tree and boosted her up it. The Mujar cocked his head as he tuned in to the approaching wave of Dolana.

Brin, send the horses away. Tell them to run… that way. He pointed.

Brin flung his silent warning to Task, and the horses quit the meadow nearby to gallop into the darkness. Chanter listened. Kieran, last to climb a tree, frowned at him. Talsy clung to the rough bark of her sanctuary, looking as if she strived to keep the contents of her stomach where they were, since the sudden tension would have made her gut knot. Chanter looked up, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the distance. He approached the trees in which his charges sheltered and stretched his arms out to place his hands on two trunks. The campfire flared as he reached for its element, then the manifestation of Crayash seared the air, winking out as he took control of it. A distant pinging and crackling became audible, growing louder as it neared rapidly. In the moonlight, the land was quiet and empty.

Chanter held the Crayash within him, drawing on the burning Power, the only one that could counter Dolana. It filled him with its flames, and he increased it. His skin glowed, lighted from within by the immense power he now contained, and his flesh grew hot. The wave of Dolana approached at the speed of a galloping horse. He braced himself, readying his tongue to speak the strange god-given words that could command it. He sensed it crossing the hill not twenty man heights away in a flare of bright silver that momentarily became a solid sheet as the lines swelled and joined, shrivelling behind the wave into darkness. The pinging increased to a cacophony of crackling and crunching mixed with sharp bangs. A tree shattered as the wave passed, falling in shards that broke again as they struck the ground.

The wave raced towards him, and he clung to the trees as it swallowed the ground in front of him, turning everything it touched to stone. The campfire guttered and went out as the logs became rock. As it swept under his feet, he fanned the Crayash within him to ward off the intense cold, throwing back his head with a cry of pain as two Powers warred for his body. In the midst of his agony, he shouted the guttural god words that commanded Dolana, stopping the crackling advance of stone up the six trees that sheltered his wards. The two he touched contained Talsy and Kieran, and the creeping stone stopped just below his hands. The intense Earthpower crept much further up the other four trees, and a yelp came from one of them.

The wave passed, and Chanter dropped to his knees as the pain of the two Powers abated. Trees around him fractured, too brittle to support their weight. Branches snapped off and shattered on stone grass as trunks cracked with sharp reports. The forest collapsed, crumbling into rubble with a roar of brittle crashes. Within moments, all that remained of the once proud trees were petrified, jagged stumps and the shattered remains of leaves and branches. Squirrels, birds, lizards and beetles lay amid the rubble as perfect, broken statues.

Chanter rose to his feet and looked up at his wards’ pale, scared faces. You can come down now. It’s gone.

Kieran jumped down lightly, and Talsy half fell from her tree, doubling up to vomit behind a stump. The Aggapae shinnied down with surprising agility for plainsmen, but Mita limped as she joined the others around the remains of their fire. Everything they had left behind, tents, blankets, food and water, had been turned to stone. Kieran squatted beside the stone satchel that held the two pieces of staff and plucked at the rock. Brin lifted a boot and smashed it, revealing the precious contents.

The Prince asked Chanter, Are the horses all right?

The Mujar glanced at Brin, who nodded. They were not caught by it.

Talsy looked pale and sick as she tottered up and leant against Chanter, shivering. He put an arm around her, sharing the warmth of the Crayash that still burnt in him. The rest stared around at the petrified landscape in stunned disbelief. Kieran crushed the fragile grass, fascinated. The others settled on the ground with crunches as leaves and grass crumbled under their weight.

Mita tried to pull off her boot and muttered under her breath. After some poking and prodding, she spoke in a soft, horrified tone. I think my foot’s been turned to stone.

Chanter went over to her and examined the cold, hard shoe. He shook his head and banged it. The boot shattered, revealing a soft pink foot, which Mita rubbed with tears in her eyes.

Just the boot, Chanter said unnecessarily, but it was close.

He returned to Talsy, for the night was chilly without a fire, and she huddled close to him.

Kieran looked up from his investigation of the stone grass and asked, What was that?

Wild Earthpower, Chanter explained. Very strong, travelling in a wave.

Turning everything to stone.

Yes.

How did you stop it? Kieran smiled. Or is that a dumb question?

No, just difficult to answer.

Talsy said, You countered it with Crayash.

Only in my body. I used god words to stop it climbing the trees you were in.

God words? She frowned.

Words of power that command the elements.

Handy, Kieran muttered.

Very difficult to use. They came to me as the wave struck, and as soon as I spoke them, they were gone.

Another Mujar trick? Talsy asked.

Yes.

So why can’t you remember them?

It’s forbidden.

But you knew they would come, she said.

Yes.

Yet Dolana can’t harm you, so why would you ever need them?

Chanter shrugged. I don’t know.

You heard it coming, didn’t you? Kieran enquired.

The Mujar nodded. But there was no time to get to the horses and ride away. We could not have outrun it.

Talsy asked, Will it stop the Torrak Jahar?

Unfortunately, no. They’re already stone.

She snuggled closer to him. Now we have no tents, blankets or food.

We’ll have to find a village and buy more, Kieran said. At least we have some money.

There’s one several leagues to the south; we can reach it tomorrow, Chanter told them.

I think we should go there now, Brin remarked. We can’t sleep here without blankets or a fire; we’ll freeze. He scanned the group, and all except Talsy and Chanter nodded. And besides, he added, it’s a little hard to sleep on rock.

The Aggapae summoned the horses while Kieran wrapped the pieces of the staff in his cloak and strapped them to his back with two belts. When he mounted, with Brin’s help, they rested on the piebald’s rump, the belts holding them in place. Talsy climbed wearily onto her mare, and Chanter led the group onwards, the horses’ hooves clopping. The moon-silvered landscape looked almost normal, but for the shattered stumps, and the horses left hoof prints of powdered stone. They crossed a stream that gurgled over a bed that had once been water, overflowing its banks to meander in trickles through tufts of stone grass.

The fact that water still flowed meant the wave had not reached the stream’s source, but had faded away at some point before the mountains. The horses picked their way through the sharp-edged landscape, shying from the occasional shattered corpse of a hapless animal caught by the wave. An eerie silence gripped the land, for the wind found no leaves to rustle and no animals stirred or called save a lone owl that had been aloft when the wave had passed.

By the time they reached the village, Talsy was almost asleep, and Kieran half dragged her from her horse. Brin and Taff carried the pieces of the staff, and he guided her into an inn, whose proprietor they rudely awakened by banging persistently on his door. The inn was remarkably clean, with polished brass pots over the common room’s fireplace and bunches of dried flowers and herbs hanging from the rafters to scent the air with spicy sweetness. Black beams networked the whitewashed walls and clean, dry rushes softened the floor. Chanter left to spend the night in the wild, and the Aggapae sent the horses out to graze. Kieran helped Talsy upstairs to a spotless room that had cost an exorbitant price. It had chintz curtains, a woollen rug and a soft quilted bed. He tried to remember when the horses’ hooves had stopped clopping on stone and thudded on soil. It did not seem too long ago. For him, most of the nightmare ride had passed in a blur, fogged by shock and weariness. His exhaustion would not allow his numb brain to think, and he gave up the unequal struggle and flung himself down on his bed.

Kieran woke refreshed the following morning, his aching weariness banished by a night’s sleep in a comfortable bed, something he had gone without for far too long. He washed in the basin of water provided in his room and emerged yawning, to be confronted in the corridor by a pale and dishevelled Talsy. She glared at him, clearly irked by his obvious good health, her expression as sour as her stomach undoubtedly was. He knew a cheerful greeting would only annoy someone as sick as her, so he stepped aside and allowed her to precede him down to breakfast. As they descended the stairs to the common room, they found the Aggapae in a huddle on the steps, their faces mournful.

What’s going on? Kieran asked.

Half the village has been turned to stone, Brin explained. It seems the wave just missed this inn. It passed by not ten man heights from it.

The Prince’s enjoyment of the morning evaporated, and he shook his head.

Talsy gulped and turned even paler. That’s terrible. Oh, god…

She fled up the stairs, presumably to use the basin in her room. He gazed after her for a moment before turning to Brin. We must leave as soon as we can.

That’s not the worst part, Brin said. The people… They’re not dead.

But they’ve been turned to stone!

The warrior nodded. I know.

Oh, god.

They’re like the Torrak Jahar.

Kieran sat down on a step, his blood chilled. Why aren’t they dead? They should be! That would be better for everyone.

Brin shrugged. You know why as well as we do.

But Chanter said it takes many souls to animate a Ghost Rider. How can these people…?

Only a few are animated. The stronger ones have gathered the souls of the weaker, I think.

Kieran grimaced. Don’t tell Talsy. We must buy supplies and leave. The Torrak Jahar will come through here too. We’ve got to stay far enough ahead so they’re not tempted to linger for a quick meal.

Brin looked morose. I doubt we’ll be able to buy supplies here. The townsfolk have other things on their minds right now. Half of them are weeping and tearing their clothes, the rest are packing to leave.

Damn! Kieran thumped the stair, then jumped up and ran a hand through his hair. If we go to another town, if there is one before the mountains, we lead those damned Riders to them too, and we can’t cross the mountains without food and blankets. Maybe the proprietor can help us.

Kieran descended to the deserted common room and followed the sound of sobbing, finding the plump, balding innkeeper slumped over a table.

Kieran cleared his throat and murmured, I’m sorry for your loss.

The innkeeper raised his head and wiped his face. My sister, and all her children! His shoulders shook, and he buried his face in his hands again.

Kieran turned away, unwilling to intrude further since the man was distraught.

The innkeeper burst out, It’s a curse! The world is cursed!

You’re right. It is.

You came in last night after this happened, didn’t you?

The Prince shrugged. Must have.

I wondered how you got past the gate guards. They never let travellers in after dark. But they were turned to stone, like the gates, which shattered. The innkeeper mopped his eyes with a damp handkerchief. You were lucky to have missed it.

Kieran wondered how they could have ridden past the shattered gates and stone guards without noticing them, but everyone had been so tired. Yes, we were. We must move on today, and we need supplies. Since all your people are so distressed, and quite understandably, perhaps you could help us?

The innkeeper nodded, tucking away his handkerchief. I’ll do my best. What do you need?

When the man left with the list of supplies, Kieran wandered to the door. Not far from the inn, a swirling line crossed the road, dividing black tar from grey rock. A weeping crowd gathered before it, afraid to tread on the stone in case it carried its curse to them, he assumed. Four grey men and a woman stood on the stone, their eyes glowing yellow. The houses seemed unchanged except in colour, which matched the street and the landscape beyond, where the town gates lay smashed and trees had become piles of rubble. On the living side of the line, people loaded wagons with unseemly haste.

Kieran turned away and nearly fell over Shan, whose soft eyes brimmed. He chivvied the boy into the common room, where the rest of the Aggapae sat at a table. Talsy joined them a little later, her face chalk white and her eyes ringed with dark circles. She looked fragile, her vitality and pluck gone. Her hair hung in lank, dull strands and her fingers trembled when she put her hands on the table. Catching his eyes on her, she frowned and hid her hands under the table.

The innkeeper returned with some of the items Kieran had asked for, piling them on a nearby table. He shot a concerned look at the girl before hurrying out again as the Prince went over to inspect the supplies. The goods were inferior, the blankets thin and worn and the two tents mildewed from long storage. This was no time to be choosy, however. The innkeeper returned with an old saddle, two satchels of dried food, water skins and an empty bag. He dumped the items on the table and leant closer to Kieran.

Your lady friend looks ill. Do you want the doctor?

No, thank you. She’s not ill; she’s with child.

Ah. The innkeeper smiled. Your wife?

After short pause, Kieran nodded. Yes.

The plump man eyed Talsy. She’s young; she’ll be fine. My wife was a midwife, rest her soul, and she made a wonderful tonic for mothers to be. It did them the world of good.

Do you still have any?

Yes.

I’ll buy two bottles of that as well then.

The innkeeper beamed. So nice to see a young husband concerned for his wife. I’ll get it.

When the man returned, Kieran paid for the supplies, far too much for such inferior goods, but there was no time to quibble. The innkeeper explained that his cook was not around to make breakfast, but the Prince shrugged it off, wanting only to leave as soon as possible. The Aggapae shouldered the supplies while Kieran trotted upstairs to collect the pieces of the staff, packing them into the empty satchel. Staggering under his burden, he joined the others, and Taff took one piece of stone as they headed for the far gate. Outside the town, the Aggapae summoned their steeds, and they resumed their journey towards the mountains.

Kieran glanced back at the exhausted group, whose drawn faces and drooping mounts revealed the toll five days of arduous travel had taken. The Aggapae had to urge their tired horses on, and they clearly hated forcing their friends to endure such rigours. Talsy was worst off, so pale and drawn that she looked as if she was made from porcelain. It was all she could do to cling to her mare’s mane all day and try to choke down a little food before she fell asleep each night.

Kieran’s concern had grown as she weakened, and he cursed the Torrak Jahar that still followed them. Chanter had gone back twice to try to lead them away, but the Ghost Riders no longer took the bait en mass. They despatched a few to follow the Mujar while the rest continued after the chosen. Chanter had been forced to use other delaying tactics, or the Riders would have caught up with them days ago. First he had raised a wall of rock, forcing them to go around it, then he had torn the earth apart in a great chasm, which had delayed the Riders for two days. Nothing stopped them, however; they just kept coming, their tireless steeds galloping day and night. Sooner or later, they would catch up.

When the horses halted at sunset, Kieran scanned the terrain. To his right, a swathe of forest covered rolling hills to the horizon, and ahead the mountain range’s white peaks scraped the clouds. Behind him, golden grassland stretched to the stone forest they had left behind, and to his left more woodland clothed the hills. He slid from his sweating mount and waited for Chanter to come down from his vigil in the sky. The Aggapae rubbed and brushed the exhausted animals, soothing them. Thorn seemed to be the least tired of the horses, possessing an awesome stamina. Talsy sat down and hugged her knees, hiding her strained expression.

Kieran went over and squatted beside her. How do you feel?

Like a wet rag that’s just been through a wringer.

Why doesn’t he do something more drastic? Can’t he see we’re not going to make it?

She raised her head. "You mean