Chapter Three (Horses)

The ferry would have reached Sindle by now, and Law knew that on foot it would take him a very long time to catch up to his enemies. He decided that it was in the best interests of this heinous place that he steal a horse or something. He figured that as long as he walked along the river, he would find a farm or something that would have horses. He struck gold when he came across a low rock wall. He scouted around it and found it surrounded a homestead on a bit of a hill. He knew next to nothing about farming, but immediately recognised a stable between the barn and the homestead. There were two hours to go until dusk; Law decided to use that time to make this next development as bloodless and quiet as possible.

There were nine people living on this farm; an old couple, a willowy, redheaded woman and her younger sister, and a tall, muscly fellow. There were also four children, ranging in age from six to seventeen. He hoped none of them knew magic, like some of the soldiers he had met at Qyrre and Roble's town. The sky was dark, and the family appeared to be on the second floor of their two story home. He snuck up to the house, peeking into the dark windows until he found the kitchen. The windows weren't locked, or even latched. He managed to break in without breaking anything. He realised that the family was singing upstairs, then he realised that he was unlikely to find a tin of baked beans, or ration bars. With this in mind, he settled for a piece of cheese, a loaf of bread and a large sausage. He also spotted a sharpening stone and a small satchel, which he filled with the food and sharpening stone. It was a very small satchel. He left the way he came in, and left quietly. He could still hear the sounds of singing wafting down the stairs and into the kitchen. He moved quietly to the stables, and went around a large-ish vegetable patch. He unlatched the gate and closed it behind him, but he didn't latch it. He entered the stables and inspected all the horses. There were twelve in all, and lots of saddles; a lot more than twelve. He wasn't a horse guy, but part of his training for the previous three weeks involved learning to ride. He could mount, dismount and ride... sort of. He picked the horse he judged was the third best and saddled it, then he strapped the satchel to it. He left to open the gate before going back in to take the horse.

"Don't move, or I will unleash a spell of great destruction." by the time the strong female voice who said that finished her sentenced, Law had dived behind a large sack of grain. Another door opened opposite him, and the muscly fellow was there, a bow in his hands and an arrow nocked. Law put his hands up and the woman (the younger of the two sisters) approached him; a belt in her hands. He put his hands behind his head. She stood behind him and gripped his wrist, he whirled around her and put his arm around her neck, he drew his bayonet and pressed it's blade into the small of her back.

"Drop it." He ordered. The man slowly lessened the tension in the string and put the arrow into a quiver on his back. He was about to drop his bow when a scream from the direction of the homestead saw him disappear almost before Law even noticed.

"Let me help!" The mage woman said. He released her and moved towards the horses. Then turned. Maybe they'd consider the horse a just reward if he helped them.

The vegetable garden had a wooden fence around it; there was a tall figure trying to scale it, and two more behind him throttling each other. They were dead; he knew this because he could smell them, and because the one trying to climb the fence had five arrows through his head. It seemed under control; the arrows didn't seem to damage it much alone, but with each one, it seemed to weaken. Law decided to take the winner out of the two that were throttling each other. He drew his sword and watched. One's neck snapped; the winner snarled triumphantly as it's adversary's body went lifeless and head hung limp. Law vaulted the wooden fence.

Both dead things came right for him; lurching and stiff, but quick nevertheless. The one with arrows in it's head seemed stronger, so Law went for it first. He hacked at it, cutting it's left arm off at the elbow. He followed his hack through with a kick that snapped the thing's right arm. The bone hung loose from the arm by putrid smelling flesh. The thing didn't seem to care about either arm; it still advanced and battered at him with the better arm. Law kneed it hard in the stomach , but a vice like grip on his shoulder prevented a second attack. He dropped to the ground and centrifuged the second thing into one of the wooden posts supporting the fence. Hard. He heard several bones, possibly even it's spine snap. He rolled to his left and got to his feet, facing the first with his sword held underhand. He crouched, ready to spring, and a gout of flame tore through it's body. It burned with intense, orange flames, then fell to the ground, finally lifeless. The second was weak, but still alive. It lurched towards him. He sheathed his sword and kicked it in the knee, which snapped. He palmed it in the nose and it fell, it didn't die. It got up again, then he saw the one it had throttled get up too.

"Help him!" one of the children squeaked from behind the fence. Some of the children echoed this brilliant idea.

"Fuck him," the mage woman he had taken hostage said, "We caught him stealing Carris."

This seemed to silence the children. Law drew his sword again; the one he had thrown into the wooden post seemed weaker, so he threw his sword at the one it had throttled. It went right through it's chest, right to the hilt, and the sword emerged out the other side with a shower of sparks. He hadn't expected that, but he recovered well. He ran at it and performed a flykick on it, then tore his sword out of it's body, ripping it in half. It didn't move anymore; it was dead, and so was he once he took care of the last one. There was no hellfire; he guessed they wanted a show. He sheathed his sword and drew his bayonet and garrote. The last one lurched towards him, and he didn't move. It was finally in grabbing distance, and it growled as it reached for his throat with it's rotting hands. He ducked, and looped the tough cable of his garrote around it's neck. He then got behind it and put his knee into it's leg. It dropped to it's knees. He drove his bayonet into the small of it's back and pulled it back up. A gout of cool blood splashed across his hand. They were strong, but not too smart. Therefore, this one was now harmless. He wheeled with it, turning it towards the family, and started moving away from them. There was a low stone wall to his right, about seven metres behind him and twelve metres from the family. The mage woman started building up her hellfire thing again; it looked pretty ominous to him, and this corpse would burn with him.

He pulled his bayonet out of the zombie at the wall, and wiped it relatively clean on it's filthy rags. He sheathed it and let go of one of the garrote handles, then he dived over the wall, rolling on the other side. He then followed it in the general direction of the stables. He had earned that horse. The mage woman finally released her hellfire when he was well away from the zombie, he saw it illuminate a small part of the countryside, it cast sharp shadows all over the property, not of him though, he was already in the stable., wishing for his Kalashnikov.

"Where the hell is he?" someone yelled. A little later, he heard a clatter; an arrow shaft bouncing through a tree.

"Not there fuckers." he said bitterly. He needed that horse, he could have left them to deal with the things. This was the second time he had been betrayed this month, also this life. He found Carris and prepared to mount. All of a sudden, third best wasn't good enough. He unloaded Carris and loaded the big one, with a shiny coat, after selecting a finer saddle. Fuck them, and Jesus loves you too.

Being a stranger to these parts, Law decided to stick to the main roads, and turned his cloak inside out to help alter his appearance. The goal now was to get to Navis; the others would be posted South West of there, and the fastest way now was by boat. He just hoped the local authorities weren't onto him yet, but he would probably need their help later on. Mounted, it only took him four days steady riding to reach Callibe, a small settlement by southern standards, but apparently a large port city in this country. Right. Law skirted around the city searched for a dock, but despite it's proximity to water (only a hundred metres or so), and it's reputation as a seaport, there was nothing, save for a small jetty and a half built sea wall shielding part of the beach from the waves rolling in from the open sea. Law turned and walked a well worn path to the city centre, he tied his stallion to a post outside a tavern. Then he asked the first person he met for directions. He got nothing but strange looks from everyone he asked for directions to Callibe's shipyards.

Law was exceptionally confused as he walked down a dusty lane winding through the limestone houses that made up this part of the seaside town. He was now looking for a law enforcement officer of some description. He found a pair of men wearing knee high leather boots, blue clothes, black cloaks and red sashes that he decided fit the description pretty well.

"Excuse me officers," Law approached them with a large, friendly smile on his face, "could you direct me to the closest boat market, or dock?" They exchanged glances.

"Of course, friend," the older one replied, "That would be Callibe, this is Telephone, a Korrovian settlement."

"You're not from around here, are you?" The younger one enquired.

"Uh. No, I'm not. I need to get to Navis." Law tugged his forelock, in genuine worry.

"Why, friend?" the older one asked, his hand moving to his hilt. The law was already after him.

"I signed up with the royal guard, but my division left me behind at Qyrre. I need to catch up." Law's father had always told him, the less bullshit the better.

"Why didn't you wait for the next boat then, friend?" the younger one asked. Law noticed a mark on his forehead, also on the older one's forehead. Then, kind of slowly, he realised that all the people he had seen do the funky magic shit had that mark, except for the mage woman from the night before, but he probably hadn't noticed it in the dark.

"I kind of... don't remember the past few days..." A lame excuse, he knew.

"Well, I'm sure we can help you remember." The older one said. Law put his hands behind his head and gave up without a fight.

The constables had thrown him in gaol, and for some reason, his 'accidental deserter' story hadn't held true; someone had found a body in Royal Guard uniform down river from Qyrre, so that case was closed. He was in here for theft. The constables had taken everything but his garrote in his left sleeve, and his flick knife, in his boot. They hadn't found either. They wouldn't do him much good in a fight though; he was shackled to a wall with his hands behind his back. The cell was made of soft limestone, which wouldn't hold anyone with a spoon or chair for very long, if it had been above ground. More of a dungeon with smokeless, burning lights. The cell held three other prisoners, shackled like he was. They had been in here for an hour or two more than he had. Civil negligence (an untidy, state run stable) and public drunkenness were their crimes. Those stables must have been pretty fucking untidy. Law had the distinct impression that he was the most hardened criminal in here, although he had committed his first crime only four days ago. The other two prisoners weren't talking to him anymore; they were fiercely patriotic, and repentant for their crimes. The fact that he wasn't had procured intense glares from the both of them for the past hour. A guard entered the cell, followed by the woman from the night of the horse. If looks could kill, she would have been a fine red mist, or a charred, blackened corpse by now. Law skewered her with an intense, hateful, defiant look and straightened his back up as best he could, shackled low to the wall as he was.

"The dark one, with the bright eyes." She said, the constable laughed heartily at that.

"You're free to go friend, she's not pressing charges." He unlocked the shackles.

"Thank you constable. Can I have my things back?" His wrists were bleeding again; he was hungry, uncomfortable and relatively pissed off.

"What things?" the constable laughed again, "They all belong to her now. She's not pressing charges, because you do too, for the next three months, for stealing her best horse."

"They're going to kill the Abhorsen." Law had been handcuffed and placed astride the stallion he had stolen. The cuffs were surprisingly modern; a five pin, pin and column lock that was almost open.

"So you're not ignoring me anymore?" the woman, whose name was Tarryn, was on the horse he had judged was second best, and she was leading his.

"I'm not kidding." He replied.

"Sure, sure, I know," the dismissive sarcasm in her voice was so thick he could taste it, "Why did you take our best horse when you already had loaded Carris?"

Law had known that he had little chance of escape from right outside the police station or whatever they were called in this country, so when no one had been looking he had loosened his garrote a little. He was now using the tough cable to pick the locks on the almost modern cuffs, so he didn't reply.

"You know, the only reason I'm not pressing charges is because the law says I can keep you on my farm for up to three months, so you can work you're debt off," she giggled, "And I really, really like you." One more pin on the left, one...

"You want me?" he slowly played the cable along the inside of the lock, "Let me go, I'll do what I have to do, then I'll be back and you have me for as long as you want."

"Oh, no sweetie, you're coming with me." She replied; that was really, really creepy, Law wouldn't have returned to the dark farm anyhow. The lock turned easily, and Law picked the other one much, much faster. Then he kicked the horse's flanks. He closed the one meter gap in a second, then tackled her off the horse. They rolled along the ground, and when they finally came to a stop, Law had his knees on her chest and his garrote around her neck. Somehow, she had managed to keep a wrist between the cable and her throat.

"As far as I'm concerned," he stopped to catch his breath, "You can help me, or you can die."

She nodded, and he punched her in the face.

Split here

Gawd! I'm getting flamed already! Don't worry fella, if you bother to keep reading (I hope you do), setting and characters come in (It's already drafted).

As for Wranga... I hope you're not being sarcastic :-(

Keep 'em coming everyone, I need the criticism.