Broken World Book Two - StarSword by T C Southwell Page A

clipping the air inches from his head as puffs
of steam jetted from its flared nostrils. Kieran rolled away
instants before its hooves crashed down where he had been,
scrambling to his feet. Pain flashed through his shoulder as he
avoided the Rider's slashing sword and turned to flee.
     
    Talsy looked
around with a frown. Her nape hairs prickled and her stomach
clenched with uneasiness. Her glance flicked over Shern, who dozed,
with the rest of the chosen, propped up against a tree. The
uneasiness would not go away, and she turned to gaze at the smoke
that rose from the distant city, wishing that Chanter would return.
Without him, she was exposed and unprotected, a sensation that did
not sit well with her stomach. Turning back to the sleeping people,
she froze in shock.
    Four black-clad
riders emerged from the forest, and her heart leapt into her
throat, pounding. Then she noticed that their faces were Truemen
and their armour silver-edged. Long cloaks draped their horses'
rumps, and handsome studded breastplates moulded their chests.
Their attire reminded her of Kieran’s, being almost identical. She
stepped back as the leader turned his horse and rode towards
her.
    "Shern!"
    The seer jerked
awake and gaped at the strangers who converged on Talsy. With a
yell, he roused the others and leapt to his feet, but the riders
moved fast. The leader grabbed Talsy as she turned to flee and
dragged her onto his pommel. She kicked and yelled, punching
whatever she could reach, but the armoured knight ignored her puny
blows. He swung his horse with a vicious jerk of the reins and
spurred it into the trees, his companions following. The chosen
gave futile pursuit, but were soon left behind, only their shouts
of anger and frustration following the kidnappers into the wood's
green gloom.
    Talsy struggled
as hard as she could, but the iron arm that held her did not give
an inch, and she only succeeded in hurting herself. Pinned to his
armoured chest, she panted in fury as she was borne away.
     
    Chanter hovered
on the icy wind, holding position just beyond the black web. Still
he had seen no sign of Kieran, and the battle in the city raged on.
Piles of bodies choked the streets, Truemen and Hashon Jahar,
although the Riders were only incapacitated for the moment. More
people had fled onto the web, safe there while the Riders sacked
the city. Some had brought carts, and these lurched away down the
road, overloaded with refugees. Those left behind gathered to weep
and wail, mostly women and children. Chanter tilted his wings and
swooped low, skimming the ground, then used the momentum of his
dive to sail high over the trees again.
    Kieran’s
failure to appear bothered him. The day wore on, and he should
return to the chosen and lead them away. The city was taking a long
time to fall. The Truemen's fiery weapons were more effective than
swords and lances, and had taken a heavy toll. The Riders that had
first fallen to the flames outside the city were starting to
recover now, remounting their steeds to join their fellows within
the broken walls. The fire in the moat had gone out, but thick
smoke still rose from within the city as flamethrowers spurted
liquid fire over the Hashon Jahar. He tilted his wings again and
sailed around the city, a few swift beats speeding his flight.
Kieran must emerge soon, or he would have to abandon the
warrior.
     
    Kieran stumbled
down a narrow alley, the Black Rider close behind. Aware that he
was about to be overtaken, he flung himself flat against the wall.
The Hashon Jahar cantered past and slid to a halt, but the horse
was unable to turn in the alley. Its Rider dismounted and strode
towards Kieran, its sword raised. Kieran turned and darted back up
the alley, the Rider clumping after him, slow and ponderous on
foot. He raced into a broader road in time to join a fleeing crowd
of civilians and enrolled in the wild run. Soon, he realised that
the people were heading in the wrong direction and peeled off