Chapter Three

 

"Invaders!"

The shout made Talsy jump up from the table where she ate lunch and run outside. A herdsman raced into the village, yelling at the top of his lungs. Sheera joined her, staring at the red-faced man in confusion as he ran past, panting. He headed for Kieran's hut, stopping as the Prince emerged from it. Talsy scowled and marched towards them, annoyed by the man's assumption that Kieran was in charge. She was the First Chosen, not him.

"Invaders, Your Highness," the man gasped. "Coming through the wall! Hundreds of them!"

Kieran glanced around as Talsy reached him. "Where's Chanter?"

"How should I know? I'm not his keeper."

"I thought you were."

"Very funny. He doesn't want to found, and I'm not climbing a damned mountain to make him show himself."

"Find him, please. We need him. This is no time to get petty."

"Highness," the herdsman wheezed. "They have magic, they've opened a door in the wall."

"Gather all the men and weapons you can," Kieran instructed, turning to Talsy as the herdsman ran off. "Do you know where he is? We can't fight an army with these few farmers."

Talsy snorted and stalked away, taking some satisfaction in leaving him to wonder if she was going to find the Mujar or simply stomping off in a huff. For two weeks, Chanter had delayed their departure to find the staff, putting it off each time she asked. He appeared at mealtimes, then vanished to some quiet place for the rest of the day. He had not retreated to the mountains again, but remained elusive nonetheless. Talsy had tracked him down on several occasions, and usually found him sitting in a sunny spot, staring into space. His favourite place at the moment was the roof of one of the huts, where he could stretch out in the sun without being bothered by Dolana. Often he was asleep, an unnecessary pastime, but a retreat for him. She headed for that hut.

Clambering onto the roof, she found him fast asleep. His deep slumber was undisturbed by her grunting arrival, for, she had discovered, when Mujar chose to sleep they did so thoroughly. Alertness was unnecessary for a being who could not be killed, and Chanter slept like the dead. She gripped his shoulder and shook him. The Mujar snorted, shrugged and settled back.

"Chanter, wake up!" she bellowed into his ear.

He twitched and sighed, raising a hand to brush at his ear as if some insect had invaded it. Talsy almost smiled at the comical sight, then shook him even harder, making his head loll from side to side. "Chanter! We're being attacked!" she shouted, pummelling him until the roof creaked alarmingly.

The Mujar jerked away as if burnt, and opened his eyes to scowl at her. "Wamhuszzel?"

"There's an army coming through the wall."

He blinked, sat up and stretched, then yawned and knuckled his eyes. "Really." Realising that he had failed to knuckle his right eye due to his lack of that hand, he used his left. "An army?"

"Yes, hundreds of them."

"Hmmh."

"Come on, wake up."

He yawned again, then smiled at her. "Okay, I'm awake."

Talsy clambered off the roof, and the Mujar jumped down as lightly as a cat beside her. She started away down the road, then turned when he remained stationary. "Aren't you coming?"

"Not that way." He gestured towards the village. "You go on, I want to see them."

Talsy snorted and set off again, eager to see the newcomers. Rounding the last hut, she stopped in surprise.

Hundreds of horses walked across the lush valley, some carrying riders, most of the rest burdened with baggage. She trotted over to Kieran, who stood with a group of badly armed men.

"Did you find him?" he asked, looking worried.

Talsy nodded, staring at the horses that crossed the grass in a compact herd. Men with painted faces and armed with spears and bows led the herd, followed by women and children riding mares with foals at foot.

Kieran glanced around, searching for Chanter. "Where is he?"

"Watching."

"It's not an army," he said, turning back to the herd. "But those guys in the front look pretty fearsome."

Four riders at the front broke away and cantered towards them, stopping a few feet away. Talsy noticed that the horses wore no bridles or saddles, and their riders sat on them with consummate ease. Men and beasts looked exhausted, and, although the horses tried to put on a show of energetic prancing, they quickly settled and let their heads droop. Kieran stepped forward, and she stayed at his side, determined to remain in the thick of things. The chosen behind them muttered and shifted, hefted the hoes and axes they carried and eyed the newcomers' spears.

A man who rode a tall, dapple-grey stallion dismounted and approached. He scowled at them, the streaks of paint making his expression fiercer.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in our valley?"

"Your valley?" Kieran raised his brows. "There was no one here when we arrived."

"We winter here every year."

The man swayed with fatigue, and lines of strain furrowed his brow and bracketed his mouth. His bloodshot eyes glittered with suspicion and uncertainty, but he carried himself with the pride of a leader, although he did not swagger.

Talsy glanced past him at the herd. "How did you open the wall?"

He patted his chest. "With a key."

Kieran traded a puzzled look with her, then his gaze was jerked back to the man as he stepped closer and raised a finger to point at her brow.

"You carry the Stone mark!"

"Stone mark?" Kieran glanced at her again. "That's a Mujar mark. She's the First Chosen."

The man snorted, casting an amused look over his shoulder at his warriors. Two more dismounted and wandered over, carrying long, lethal looking spears. The first man smiled as he faced them again. "Mujar are only legend. That's the mark on our key, the same one that's on the wall."

"Yes," Kieran agreed. "A Mujar mark."

The man shrugged, apparently too tired to argue. "Call it what you will. At least it shows that you're good people, not horse thieves. If she carries the mark, she is beloved of horses and therefore our friend." He held out his hand. "I'm Jesher, Headman of the Aggapae."

The Prince shook hands and introduced himself and Talsy, who wondered where the legend was hiding now. When Chanter chose to show himself, the Aggapae would know that Mujar were not just a legend. Jesher introduced his warriors, Taff and Brin, gesturing behind him to a boy on a black colt.

"My son, Shan."

The boy looked ready to drop, and the colt looked little better. "You're welcome to share what we have," Talsy offered.

Jesher shook his head. "We have our own, my thanks." He turned to stare back down the valley. "But you should close the gate if you can, there are bad people following us."

Noticing that some of his odd clothes were bandages, and his warriors were likewise injured, she glanced around with a frown. Where was Chanter?

"Why are they after you?" Kieran asked Jesher.

"They're horse thieves, of course. We're the blessed of the god of horses, they're scum." Jesher spat on the ground to punctuate his opinion.

The Prince appeared unconcerned. "Well, make yourselves at home; I'm sure we won't let them in. As soon as you're settled we'll have a talk."

Jesher shot him a puzzled look, but shrugged and turned away to signal to his people. The tired horses plodded up the valley, stopping almost in the centre of it, where the women dismounted and started to unload them.

Kieran turned to Talsy. "Where is he? Has he closed the gate?"

"How should I know? He's become very strange lately."

"He always was strange."

Talsy glared at him, then was distracted as the boy on the black colt keeled over and slid from his horse's back to land with a thud on the ground. Talsy started forward in concern, and Jesher followed, not looking particularly worried at the sight of his son sprawled on the grass under the colt's feet.

"He's just tired," he explained, glancing back at Brin when the warrior commented, "It's that damned stone he's been carrying."

"He's still got that?" Jesher demanded, and the warrior nodded.

Talsy knelt beside the boy, and the colt lowered his head to snuffle her hair. Shan was out cold, and she looked up at Jesher. "We can take him to my hut."

The headman looked peeved by his son's show of weakness in front of strangers. "No, no, I'll take him to his mother. He'll be fine. Brin, get rid of that damned piece of rock before this colt collapses too."

The painted warrior stepped up to the horse and tugged at the ropes that bound a bundle to the colt's withers. A grey stone thudded to the ground beside Talsy, and she gasped, staring at it.

"That's a piece of the staff!"

Kieran bent to examine it. "How do you know that?"

"It looks the way Chanter described it. Look at the writing."

"She's right," a soft voice said behind them.

 

Kieran turned to find the Mujar standing there, gazing down at the grey stone. Jesher eyed the unman askance, clearly struck by his odd appearance, but the horses' reaction brought gasps of amazement from the Aggapae. Nort shouldered his way to the Mujar and pressed his head to the Chanter's chest in a gesture of complete trust, whickering a low greeting. The other horses gathered round, jostled and gave little nickers of welcome, stretching out their soft muzzles to the Mujar. Chanter stroked the stallion, then flicked his fingers. The horses retreated, and Jesher paled beneath his paint, his eyes measuring Chanter with deep misgiving.

"Who are you, who can speak to all horses?"

Chanter smiled. "You don't know?"

"If I did, I wouldn't ask."

"That's good."

Kieran glanced down the valley. "Is the gate closed?"

"Yes."

Talsy tried to pick up the piece of staff and failed, grunting with annoyance. She turned to Jesher. "Why did the boy bring the stone?"

Brin answered, "The horses said that it was important."

"The horses?" She raised her brows. "You can speak to them?"

Jesher nodded. "Of course, ever since the god of horses blessed us and gave us the Stone."

"The stone you used for a key?" Kieran enquired.

"That's right."

"The one with the Mujar mark on it."

Jesher looked a little impatient. "There are no more Mujar. They are only legend now, if they ever existed."

Kieran shook his head, glancing at the Mujar who stood beside him, as large as life and apparently uninterested in the discussion. "I beg to differ. Chanter is Mujar."

The headman studied Chanter again, his eyes lingering on his truncated right arm, and a frown wrinkled the dried paint on his brow. "Mujar are extinct. If you claim to be one, then prove it."

"No." Chanter glanced at the Prince. "I didn't claim it, he did."

Talsy stood up with a sigh. "He won't. That's one of the things about Mujar. You can't make them do anything they don't want to. We're very glad your son brought the stone. The horses are right, it's important to all of us."

Jesher continued to stare at the Mujar as if unable to tear his eyes away, but not with fascination or respect. His gaze was disbelieving and slightly hostile, apparently angered by Kieran's unproven claim that Chanter was a member of the legendary, extinct race of Mujar.

Kieran gestured to the village. "Come and have refreshment. We can talk in comfort."

Shan groaned and opened his eyes, looking dazed. Brin helped him to his feet, and Jesher shot his son a frown of annoyance. "Take him to his mother."

Taff led the boy away, followed by the horses. Kieran picked up the stone, surprised by its weight, and cradled it in his arms as he headed towards the village. The two Aggapae followed, and Talsy grabbed Chanter as he tried to wander off, tugging him after them.

Kieran's hut seemed to grow smaller when the three men filled it. The Aggapae sat on the only chairs, and Kieran poured mead for them. Talsy leant against the wall and Chanter stood beside her, looking uncomfortable under Jesher's relentless stare. Kieran found a box to sit on and pulled it up to the table. The remnant of the Staff of Law lay in a corner where he had placed it.

"What is that thing?" Jesher gestured to the grey stone, his eyes never leaving Chanter.

Talsy answered, "It's a piece of the Staff of Law, which was broken almost seven moons ago."

Jesher shook his head. "What's that?"

Talsy explained, keeping it as brief as possible, and by the end Jesher's eyes had left the Mujar and settled upon her face.

"The world is dying?"

She nodded.

"I've seen no sign of it."

"Nothing unusual has happened?"

He contemplated his mug of mead. "Well, there's that damned magician wielding fire. That's strange."

Talsy glanced at Chanter, whose eyes had narrowed. "A Trueman?"

Jesher snorted at her disbelief. "What else? I saw him myself. He looked a lot like your friend, whom you claim to be Mujar."

Talsy shot Chanter a surprised look, but the Mujar shook his head, warning her not to pursue the conversation, and she bit her lip in vexation.

Kieran looked at Chanter. "I suppose, since these people carry a Mujar talisman, that they're chosen?"

The Mujar shrugged. "Probably."

"May I see it?" The Prince turned to Jesher, who tore his gaze from Chanter with an effort. The headman hesitated, glancing at Brin. Obviously he was reluctant to display this sacred relic to strangers, but, since Chanter was unarmed and Talsy just a girl, the only possible threat was Kieran, whose sword was sheathed. He pulled a pouch from inside his tunic and took out a dull brown pebble.

Talsy smiled, thinking how typical that was. No ancient, mysterious objects or precious jewels served as magical talismans on this world. Truemen were condemned to treasuring the most ordinary stones as priceless, while those that they valued were powerless. Jesher held the stone in his palm for Kieran to study, but when the Prince reached for it, he pulled it away.

Kieran smiled. "I'm not going to eat it."

Jesher opened his mouth to reply when Chanter stepped forward and made a graceful gesture. The stone leapt from the headman's palm and shot through the air to the Mujar, who caught it and held it up to inspect. Jesher leapt up with an indignant yell, followed by the spear-toting Brin, and the Aggapae closed on the Mujar. Chanter stepped back, bumping into the wall, and Talsy sprang to his defence.

"Leave him! He's not going to steal it."

Jesher growled and drew a wicked looking knife from his belt, but Chanter held out the stone. The headman took it from his palm, glaring at the Mujar before examining the pebble. Satisfied that he had not been hoodwinked, he sheathed his knife and everyone relaxed. Kieran took his hand off the hilt of his sword with a sigh.

"Well, is it real?"

Chanter nodded, and Talsy turned to him. "But why would a Mujar give that to Lowmen? Mujar don't help Lowmen."

"He wasn't helping the Lowmen, he was helping the horses."

The Aggapae settled back into their chairs, the headman tucking away his precious stone. He scowled at Chanter as he picked up his mug and drained it. Kieran refilled it, and the tension leaked from the air as the men sipped their mead. After a short silence, the conversation resumed, the Aggapae asking questions and answering them in turn. Talsy found their relationship with the horses fascinating, and questioned them about it. The headman answered her with pride, recounting the tale of the god of horses and his gift to them. She knew that the black stallion he spoke of had been Mujar, and shot Chanter a smile.

The talks went on through the afternoon, leading to a discussion on sharing the valley, which the Aggapae were happy to allow in return for the wall's protection. Jesher's gaze lingered often on Chanter's crippled arm, and Talsy got the impression that it was the lack of a hand that convinced him that Chanter was not Mujar. Sheera brought bowls of rich meaty stew, and the conversation stopped while it was consumed.

As the late afternoon sun sent fingers of golden light questing through the gaps in the stone walls to dapple the interior with flecks of brightness, a tall, well-built woman with long chestnut hair and a strong face thrust open the door. Her brown eyes scanned the room, lingered on Chanter and came to rest on Jesher.

"Husband, the herd awaits."

One strong tanned hand rested on the slender shoulder of the dark-haired youth beside her, whom Talsy recognised as Shan. The boy looked rested and refreshed, his long brown hair tied back and his grey eyes searching for the stone that lay in the corner.

Jesher stood up, followed by Brin. "My wife," he introduced the woman, "Shella."

Outside, horses' hooves grated on rock. The boy freed himself from his mother's hold and went over to the piece of staff, running his hands over it. He looked up at his father.

"It is important, isn't it?"

Jesher smiled. "It seems so, boy. Your effort in carrying it here was not wasted, for these are the people who want it." He glanced around. "But for what purpose I don't know."

"We're going to find the rest of it and restore it, with Chanter's help." Talsy looked at the Mujar, who seemed uninterested. "Then we can bring back the law of the land."

"Is that what it's for?" Shan asked.

She nodded. "It's a piece of the Staff of Law, which kept all things in order."

Jesher glanced at his wife, who looked impatient. "I'll tell you all about it tonight, Shan. Right now, we must return to the herd."

Shan followed his mother outside, and, when Talsy emerged behind Brin, she found four horses waiting for their riders. Shan climbed onto the back of the black colt, Brin and Shella went to their respective steeds, and Jesher turned to thank Kieran for his hospitality.

A loud bang came from far down the valley, the sound rolling through it like a thunderclap. Everyone turned to stare in the direction of the wall, barely visible in the distance. Jesher scowled and shook his head.

"Poor Jorn."

"Who?" Talsy asked.

"Jorn, our horseless one. He was left behind by the herd today, and he must have been shut out when the gate closed. Now the Arrad and their wizard have reached the wall. No doubt they will make him suffer before he dies." He cast a meaningful glance at Shan.

Talsy turned to Kieran. "We should see if we can help him."

The Prince gazed at the distant wall. "I'd like to get rid of that abomination of a wizard."

Jesher shot them a disbelieving look. "You cannot mean to open the gate? The Arrad are many and fearless. We lost twelve seasoned warriors and six horses to them. Jorn is probably already dead. He could not hope to outrun them, they're mounted. If you open the gate they'll invade and we'll have to fight them."

Kieran's hand caressed the hilt of the Starsword. "They won't get in. If your man's still alive, we should rescue him. And even if he isn't, we should teach these Arrad a lesson."

Talsy looked around for Chanter, but the Mujar had disappeared again. Kieran noted his absence and gave a grunt of annoyance. "Come on, we don't need him." He set off through the village.

Talsy trotted after him. "I'm not so sure about that. The wizard has magical powers."

"So has this." Kieran patted the sheathed sword. "Will you leave that man out there to die? I know Chanter would."

"We can't open the gate!"

The Prince stopped and turned to look back at the Aggapae, who stood gazing after them in apparent indecision. "Jesher! We need you to open the gate."

The headman appeared to shake himself from his thoughts. Leaping aboard the big grey stallion, he cantered after them, followed by the others. He held out a hand to Kieran. "Ride with me, we'll get there a lot faster."

Kieran accepted his hand and swung up behind him, while Brin helped Talsy to scramble onto his blue roan. The horses cantered through the village, followed by the curious stares of the chosen who had emerged from their huts at the sound of the thunderclap. A second thunderclap echoed around the mountains in a series of rumbling reverberations.

 

Chanter paused on his way back to the hut, where he had planned to return to the restful state from which Talsy had so rudely dragged him earlier. He sighed as the horses cantered away. Why did Lowmen insist on getting into trouble, and why was Talsy always in the thick of it? Kieran's reasons were noble, but the Starsword did not make him invincible. Tyrander had shown him that. If this Lowman mage was as powerful as he appeared to be from the thunderclaps his magic caused, Kieran was perhaps overrating his abilities, even with the sword. Chanter had woven into its fabric words of power that invoked fire and parted rock, amongst other things, but the sword lacked any defence against magic, since previously the only wielders of that sort of power were Mujar.

Chanter gazed after the group, torn between his longing for peace and quiet and worry for Talsy. Why did they feel that they had to rush to the aid of one foolish Lowman? Sadly, the man would probably die if left outside, but there were hundreds, maybe thousands more chosen outside who would die in the coming years of chaos. He rubbed his stump. If not for his handicap, he could return to his rest, able to fly to her aid in minutes if he had to. Hampered by it, however, he needed to be close at hand in case Kieran's pride proved to be his undoing. Quitting the path that led to his favourite roost, he made his way around the back of the village, heading for the wall.

 

The horses slowed as they approached the wall, snorting at the smell of burning and the faint haze of smoke that came over it. Their riders slid off and allowed the animals to retreat, advancing on foot. Harsh words, bellowed in a strange tongue, came faintly from the far side of the stone barrier. Ragged cheers followed each verbal barrage as the owner of the deep voice roused his followers.

Kieran turned to Jesher. "Use your key."

The headman quailed at the hoarse shouts from beyond the wall. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

The Prince drew the Starsword far enough from its scabbard to reveal the silver Mujar mark just below the hilt. Jesher's jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

"The Stone mark!"

"Mujar mark."

"Does this mean that your blade has powers?"

Kieran nodded. "Open the gate and I'll show you."

Jesher reached for the leather bag, then paused. "What if Jorn's already dead? Can your sword withstand the wizard's magic?"

Kieran frowned, pushing the sword back into its sheath. "I'm sure it can. Even if your man's dead, we can rescue those six horses you lost."

"They weren't stolen," Jesher muttered, "they're dead."

"What about the Arrad's horses? Wouldn't you like to free them?"

The headman nodded. "Of course, the Arrad are cruel."

"Then open the gate."

Jesher started to open the leather bag, glancing at his wife, who shot him a hard look. He hesitated again. "This is dangerous. You haven't seen the Arrad, you don't know what fearsome warriors they are. What if you fail?"

"In that unlikely event, there's one who dwells in this valley who's sworn to protect it." He glanced back at Talsy. "And believe me he can, no matter how reluctantly."

Talsy looked around for the Mujar, then turned to shrug at Kieran, indicating that she had no idea where Chanter was. The Prince gave a growl of annoyance and gestured at the wall.

"Open the gate. I'll deal with that scum."

The headman drew his precious stone from the soft leather bag and stepped up to the wall, pressing its mark to the mark on the rock. He retreated as the Mujar mark caught fire, burning with a soft blue light.

 

Jesher stuffed the Stone back into its bag and went to stand beside his wife, his hand gripping the hilt of his knife. He had no other weapon, but Brin carried a long fighting spear. The headman hoped that this dark-haired man with the burning black eyes knew what he was doing. A thought struck him, and he stepped forward. The key opened the gate, but they had no way of closing it. Before he could voice this, the rock around the mark shimmered. As before, the wall parted. A perfect line appeared in it, dissecting the mark. The rock drew aside as if it was a giant grey curtain parted by invisible hands. The gate was far taller than a mounted man and wide enough to drive two carts through abreast.

On the other side of the wall, a tall man stopped in mid-shout and turned to stare at the gate that had appeared behind him. The only warning he had of its existence was the expression on his followers' faces as they gaped in wonder. For a moment he too gaped in awe, then he gathered his wits and wiped the surprised expression off his face. Kieran strode through the portal, followed by Talsy and the Aggapae.

The wizard wore a headdress of raven's feathers arranged in a formidable crest, a deep widow's peak painted on his brow beneath it. Stylised brows had been painted over his own, almost meeting his hairline in a parody of a Mujar's long brows. His eyes, heavily outlined with sable paint, glared balefully at the newcomers from a thin, saturnine face. His leather outfit was a parody of a Mujar's, and his skin had been tinted a sickly yellow with berry juice.

 

The overall impression would have been comical if it had not been so insulting, and Talsy's heart swelled with rage. How dare a Lowman ape a Mujar! In fact, why would they? Mujar were hated, reviled, shunned and ultimately thrown into a Pit. Yet this man's costume was not a mockery, but rather a brave attempt to look like a creature that he had never seen in order to rationalise his newfound powers, gifted to him by the lack of law. The most startling aspect of his disguise was the bright blue eyes he had painted on his eyelids, visible for a split second when he blinked.

Kieran stopped several feet from the wizard and glared into the man's brown eyes. Talsy glanced around and spotted their victim, a middle-aged Aggapae farmer bound to a stake on his knees. He showed signs of rough treatment, cuts and bruises on his face and arms. The unfortunate Jorn looked horrified when Jesher, Shella, Brin and Shan emerged from the gate, somewhat less boldly than Kieran. The rest of the Arrad ringed the portal in a semi-circle, mounted on thin, rough looking horses.

Dried sweat and dirt streaked the animals' harsh coats, shoddy saddles chafed bony withers and rusty bits cut tender mouths. Their hides showed the scars of abuse and patches of white hair from healed spur cuts and saddle sores. The men who sat on them were over fed and soft looking, their hair and skin oiled. The pelts of wild animals clad their pot-bellied forms, and bright feathers from rare birds sprigged their oily braids. Talsy had never seen a bunch that looked less worthy than this one.

The wizard, recovering from his surprise, straightened with an expansive gesture and spoke in a heavily accented Trueman tongue that she understood, a dialect hill clans sometimes used.

"Well! We are honoured!" He glanced back at his men and grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "So you've decided to face the mighty Arrad, instead of cowering in your little haven like whipped curs!"

His comments were directed at Jesher, but Kieran replied, "We've come for the man you've taken prisoner, and your horses."

The wizard looked stunned, then threw back his head and guffawed. "Do you hear that, men? They've come for our horses!"

The Arrad joined in the wizard's laughter with a little more restraint, perhaps realising that these people were either mad, or they had some trick up their sleeve. The mage appeared to have no such doubts. He exuded confidence like a slug oozes slime and stepped closer to the Prince.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I have certain, er, powers," he confided, "and there's only six of you, and four hundred of us."

Kieran nodded. "I've noticed. My advice to you is to leave your animals and go, then maybe I'll spare your lives."

The wizard's face went slack in an almost comical expression of astonishment, then he roared with laughter again. "I must say, little man, you have a lot of balls."

Kieran scowled. "Only the usual number, but I have a lot more than that."

"Really? Do you have anything like this?"

The mage turned and raised his arms, muttering a string of odd guttural words. He made a throwing gesture, and a tree beside the wall exploded into flame with a deafening boom. Talsy sensed an odd cold tingle run through her as the fire appeared, as if someone had dropped ice in her blood. The Arrad's horses whinnied in fear and tried to back away, but the cruel jabbing of their riders' spurs held them in place. The beasts clearly did not have the energy to cavort or fight, some looked ready to drop.

Although Talsy and the Aggapae jumped at the explosion and Jorn cringed, Kieran remained unflinching. He drew the Starsword with a hiss of steel.

"Actually, I do," he murmured. The wizard stared at the star-filled blade while Kieran looked around for a suitable target. His eyes skipped past living trees and alighted on a boulder next to the Arrad. He raised the sword, making the mage step smartly aside, and pointed it at the rock.

"Fire."

The rock turned molten, tiny white flames dancing over it, then slumped and flowed across the ground. The horses shied, earning more jabs and jerks on their mouths. Kieran lowered the sword and glared at the mage.

"Now, unless you want to be the next target, I advise you to take your men and leave on foot."

Talsy's heart warmed with pride as the mage seemed to shrink, a glint of fear invading his eyes. He stepped back, and his men muttered, shifting in their saddles. If only Chanter would use his power with a little more showmanship, she mused, he could be even more impressive and really put these Lowmen in their place. At this crucial time, however, the Mujar was nowhere to be seen.

The Arrad mage recovered a little of his aplomb, and nodded. "I see that you do indeed have a worthy weapon, warrior." He raised his hands. "But you have no power!" He shouted harsh, guttural words and flung his fire at the Prince.

Talsy yelled a warning, and Kieran raised the sword as flames engulfed him. The explosion was not as ferocious as the one that had consumed the tree, but he gave a harsh grunt and collapsed, dropping the sword with a clatter. Talsy ran to him and beat out the flames that licked over his clothes. The sickly stench of burnt skin turned her stomach and the fire singed her hands, making her sob with pain. She persevered until all the flames were out, patting his smouldering shirt. Kieran’s face was reddened, his hair singed, and he breathed in wheezing gasps, unconscious.

The Arrad mage crowed with delight and applauded his triumph. His men cheered, waving their weapons as their wizard took a bow. Talsy glared at the man, the danger of her situation lost in her rage.

"You bastard!" She lunged for Kieran's sword, forgetting its loyalty. The wizard raised his hands, then laughed when she could not lift the weapon. Talsy tugged at the blade, which seemed to be glued to the ground, and cursed Chanter's spell and his absence.

"Not even strong enough to lift a sword!" the wizard sneered. "Poor little girl!"

Talsy glanced around at the Aggapae, who retreated towards the gate, their faces twisted with pity. Shan glowered at the Arrad with deep loathing. Clearly they did not wish to become involved in the dispute Kieran had started with his bravado. Jesher had a tribe to protect, and she did not blame him for his reluctance. Two warriors and a boy stood no chance against four hundred Arrad. Realising that they would not help, she returned to Kieran and crouched beside him, pulling out her hunting knife. Where was Chanter? If he was trying to make a point, he had succeeded, she thought angrily.

The mage stepped forward and bent to pick up the Starsword, almost falling face-first into the dirt when it did not budge. He scowled and tugged at the hilt, grunting and grimacing. His men peered at him, some standing in their stirrups to see what was preventing their mage from lifting the weapon. The wizard straightened, shooting a glare at Talsy, and gestured to one of his men.

"Come and take this thing."

A man jumped down from his horse and strode over to try to pick up the sword, with identical results. The mage looked thoughtful and turned to Talsy. "It's cursed, right?"

"It can't be wielded by any other!"

"Ah, well, then it's useless to me." The mage raised his arms, muttered his guttural chant and flung his fire at the sword. An explosion engulfed the weapon, throwing up burning soil that stung Talsy's skin where it hit her, making her hiss. The blast's heat made her skin prickle, and ice trickled through her veins again. The Starsword lay unharmed in a crater of scorched earth, and the wizard scratched his head, adjusting the crested headdress. He muttered a curse and turned to Talsy.

"Stand aside, girl. If I can't destroy the weapon, then killing its wielder will suffice."

"No!" She crouched over Kieran. "Leave him be!"

"If you refuse to move, I'll have to move you. I wouldn't harm a pretty girl, my men will enjoy you better in one piece. But I'm afraid your lover must die."

"Chanter!" Talsy bellowed.

The mage glanced around, then grinned. "To bad, no one else to play with. Now get away from him."

"No! Touch me and you die! Chanter! I need you!"

The mage laughed and imitated her, calling Chanter's name in a high-pitched voice. "No one's coming, silly girl, now get away from him!"

Talsy tried to drag Kieran towards the gate, making him groan. The mage sighed and rolled his eyes, aping a girlish flounce. Raising a finger, he giggled and flicked it at her with a hissing whisper. Talsy yelped as a flash of fire burnt her shoulder, dropped Kieran and clutched the wound.

The mage wagged his finger at her. "I told you to leave him. I can kill you or just make it hurt, what's it to be?"

She renewed her grip on the Prince. "Try to kill me then!"

The wizard shook his head with a long-suffering air. "No, no, I can't do that to a pretty girl. More pain then, eh?"

He raised a finger again, wagging it as he waggled his painted brows.

The air filled with the screaming inferno of Crayash. The mage shrieked and leapt into the air, beating at his clothes. The manifestation of Fire winked out. The wizard glanced around with a frown, then regained his composure with an embarrassed cough, straightening his headdress. Talsy relaxed with a smile, her eyes stinging with tears of relief. The Arrad controlled their frightened mounts, some scowling at the mage. They had all assumed that the mage's magic had gone wrong, it seemed. The wizard glared at Talsy.

"You try my patience, girl. Even my magic grows impatient."

Talsy's smile broadened. "Your magic?"

"Of course! Do you see any other wizards around here?"

"I don't see any, no."

"Well then." The mage's eyes darted around again. "At the risk of another such show of power, I order you to move away from the warrior, now!"

Talsy giggled, blinking away her tears. "Do your damndest, wizard!"

The man's painted face mottled with anger. "Well then you'll get burnt, but I daresay my men will manage. Last chance!"

She shook her head, and he shouted the guttural words again, making a sweeping gesture towards Kieran.

Nothing happened. Talsy's smile widened as the magician gasped, staring at his hands in disbelief. He glanced around at the Arrad, his eyes bulging, then tried again. The mage's face went slack with horror and disbelief. He stared at his hands, shaking his head. Drawing himself up for a supreme effort, he shouted and waved his arms in the throwing gesture. His eyes widened in panic, and he made a mewling sound as he swung to face his followers.

"Seize the girl! I'll not waste my magic on her!"

Several men dismounted and strode towards Talsy.

"Stop."

The soft command made the Arrad warriors halt and stare at the man who had spoken. Chanter emerged from the gate, sweat sheening his skin. Compared to the Mujar's wild beauty, the Trueman wizard's feathers and berry juice-stained skin looked even more foolish and pathetic. Chanter regarded him curiously as he stopped beside Talsy. Emboldened by his presence, she jumped up and glared at the wizard.

"Leave your horses and go!"

The mage stared at Chanter as if mesmerised, but shook himself from his stupor at her words. Unlike Jesher and his people, he had no doubt as to Chanter's race.

"Mujar!" he shouted, his face twisted with hate.

"That's right," Talsy snarled. "A real one!"

"He should be in a Pit!"

"No, that's where you should be, Lowman!"

"Do you think he's going to help you, stupid girl?" The mage gave a cackle of laughter. "Do you think you're safe now? I have four hundred warriors at my back, and you have a useless Mujar! He's harmless!" The man clutched his gut, overcome with laughter. "Everyone knows that Mujar won't kill! He won't lift a finger to help you. He's just come to watch!"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Talsy warned. "He's already taken away your fire. Why do you think he told your thugs to stop?"

The mage's laughter died. "Rubbish! I just used it too much, that's all." He glanced back at the Arrad. "We'll take him to a Pit!"

The men growled and raised their weapons, but many looked doubtful as they eyed Chanter. The scrawny mage gestured grandly, sidling away from the Mujar. "Seize them!"

Several men started forward, drew rusty weapons or hefted long spears. Chanter raised his left arm and pointed to the ground before them. A line of blue fire burst from the soil, cutting off the mage's retreat and his warriors' advance. The wizard paled and stared at Chanter, his face slack with dread.

Talsy smiled, almost able to forget her burns as she cast a glad glance at her impassive saviour. Kieran groaned and writhed.

The Mujar looked down at him. "Sleep."

The wizard's eyes bulged as the Prince relaxed. A knife appeared in his fist, and he lunged at Talsy. Chanter grabbed her and yanked her back as a burst of fire exploded in front of the mage. He staggered back, dropped the knife and pawed at his face with a howl of pain.

Talsy shouted, "Leave your horses and go, now!"

An Arrad warrior threw a spear through the wall of flame, but only embers fell at their feet. The men muttered and the mage backed away, glancing at the fire that cut off his retreat. Stripped of his strutting bravado by the real power that Chanter wielded, he endeavoured to look cowed and servile, but his eyes glittered with hatred. His act was wasted on Chanter, who cared nothing for Trueman emotions.

"Let me go," he whined, attempting a placating smile.

The Mujar gestured and the fire died. The mage straightened from his craven stance and walked back to his men, clutching the tatters of his dignity along with the remnants of his singed headdress. The Arrad who had dismounted leapt aboard their horses, and the mage approached a skinny grey mare.

Talsy stepped forward. "I said leave the horses!"

The mage swung into the saddle. "Make us!"

A warrior threw a spear at the cringing Jorn, but the weapon burst into flames at a gesture from Chanter, sprinkling the Aggapae with hot ash. The wizard jerked on his horse's reins, yanking the animal's head around as he dug sharp spurs into its flanks. Talsy looked at the Mujar, who frowned.

"Chanter, help them!" she cried.

The Mujar tilted his head and closed his eyes. The horses sank to the ground, their legs folding and heads drooping as if falling asleep. The Arrad cursed and laid into the beasts with whip and spur, jerking on cruel bits that bloodied the horses' mouths. Chanter's brows drew together, and his eyes opened.

"Stop!"

When the men continued to beat their mounts, Mujar stepped forward and raised his left hand. His fingers moved to a silent tune, pointing and flicking. Flashes of fire exploded amongst the Arrad, making them leap and yell as they swatted scorched chests and legs. Some, who were too proud to accept defeat at the hands of a hated Mujar, drew knives with which to slay their erstwhile steeds. Chanter's hand twitched and the knives became red hot, forcing the warriors to drop them with startled yells. With parting kicks and curses at the recumbent animals and the irritating Mujar, the Arrad abandoned their horses and ran. Chanter speeded their retreat with flashes of fire until they had vanished into the trees.

Talsy turned to him. "Thank you, Chanter."

He cocked his head, looking puzzled.

"Gratitude," she explained.

He smiled. "Wish."

Startled, she nodded. "Wish."

"Don't run off and get into trouble when I can't keep up."

Her eyes dropped to his crippled arm, and she bit her lip in remorse. "Regret."

He inclined his head. "Obedience."

She nodded again, bowed under a mountain of shame. He had every right to be angry with her, but, in true Mujar fashion, he regarded her only with sadness and disappointment.

"You had to run all the way here?" she asked.

"Yes. A fair distance it is, too. It seems that I only just made it in time. You were about to be fried, I think."

Talsy flung her arms around him and pressed her cheek to the side of his neck where sweat as pure as spring water ran down his skin.

"What's wrong?" He sounded confused.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "I'm just so glad that you're my friend, and I'm sorry I keep disappointing you."

"I'm not disappointed. I don't understand you, but how can I be disappointed in the First Chosen, who would lay down her life for mine, and tried to? I haven't forgotten, my little clan, that you were prepared to die for me. That is the greatest sacrifice a Trueman can make, I think. In turn, I would go to a Pit for your life, if I had to make that choice. But if you rush headlong into danger when I'm not around to protect you, I do find it alarming."

"Alarming," she echoed with a smile, leaning back to look up at him. "You have an odd way of saying things, Mujar. Is this your way of trying to tell me how you feel about me?"

"Feel?" He looked puzzled. "I care for you, nothing more."

Her heart swelled with joy. "Really?" She looked away as her cheeks grew warm. "We must talk about that. Were you really afraid for me?"

Chanter smiled. "I could have controlled the wizard's fire from further away, but he was using so little of it that I wasn't sure what was going on. That's the only worry I had, with only the Dolana to tell me how great your danger was. According to that, you weren't in mortal danger, or I'd have stopped him sooner. There is a lesson to be learnt today for you and Kieran."

Talsy released him to glance down at the Prince with a shudder. The holes in Kieran's burnt clothes revealed areas of blistered skin, but he remained asleep. She beckoned to the Aggapae who stood in the gate.

"Bring water," she called, and Jesher trotted towards them, pulling a water skin from his belt.

The Mujar knelt beside Kieran, took the water skin she handed him and poured water over the Prince. The manifestation of Shissar made the Aggapae gasp in awe and surprise, and Chanter laid his hands on Kieran. A minute later Kieran sat up, shook his head and blinked in confusion at his unblemished skin. Chanter tended to Talsy's wound, then Jorn's, who cringed from him and beat a hasty retreat when the Mujar finished.

Chanter turned to the slumbering horses and bowed his head, closing his eyes. When he opened them and looked up, the beasts woke and heaved themselves to their feet. They came to greet the Mujar with soft wickers of joy, and Chanter divested each of its saddle and bridle, sending it through the gate with a silent command. The Aggapae stroked the horses as they passed them on their way into the valley, murmuring soft words of greeting and comfort. When the last horse entered the valley, Chanter followed with Kieran and Talsy, closing the gate behind them with a gesture.