Echoes of the Great Song

by David Gemmell

  “Do not kill him, Viruk, for he is mine!”

  The Avatar had stood frozen for a moment, then he had sheathed his blade, sat down beside Boru and placed his arm over the man’s shoulder. Almost exactly in the manner he was doing now. “Good to see you again, Boru,” he said, with a wide smile. “How have you been?”

  Sadau shivered at the memory. The Avatar was insane. And here he was riding with him to the gods only knew where.

  The carriage continued along a wide avenue, then on up a tree-lined road rising to a wooded hilltop. There were few houses here but the ones he could see were grand indeed. Viruk’s home—as Sadau had expected—was the finest in the hills.

  The carriage drew up outside the marble-fronted entrance. Viruk climbed down, paid the driver, then led Sadau through into the rear of the building. Here the Avatar threw open the doors to the garden. “Behold!” he said.

  Sadau gazed out over a landscape of exquisite beauty, of matching colors and sweet scents. There were flowers here he had never seen before. He stood open-mouthed. It was like a vision of paradise.

  “Well?” said Viruk.

  “Heaven cannot look this fine,” whispered Sadau. Ignoring the Avatar he walked out onto the paved pathway. A set of wide steps led up to the rockery. On each side of the steps were large terracotta pots filled with flowers.

  Viruk strolled out alongside him. “This is my world,” he said. His voice had changed, and Sadau looked at him sharply. Gone was the menace, and even his grey eyes seemed softer.

  A middle-aged servant came walking along the path. Over his shoulder was a sack made from straw. It was full of weeds. He grinned as he saw Viruk. “The marsh marigolds are thriving, lord,” he said. “You must see them. They are wonderful.”

  Leaving Sadau standing Viruk and the servant disappeared along the pathway.

  The potter kicked off his shoes and wandered around the rockery. The ground was luxuriously damp. Moving on, he came to a small stream. He sat on the grass and lowered his feet into the water. For the first time in many days he felt at peace. Stretching out on the grass he closed his eyes.

  When he awoke it was growing dark. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Then he scrambled to his feet, gathered his shoes and made his way back to the house. A servant saw him. He was a tall thin man, long-nosed, with sharp small eyes.

  “Can I help you?” he asked primly, staring with obvious distaste at Sadau’s travel-stained clothing.

  “The Lord Viruk brought me to see his garden,” said Sadau. “We travelled together.” The servant seemed unimpressed. “We rescued the king.”

  “Which king would that be, sir?”

  “King Ammon. We brought him to Egaru. The Lord Viruk took me around the city in a carriage. I saw the Library.”

  “Well, sir, the Lord Viruk has gone to the Council Chamber. And he did not mention that he had a guest.”

  “I expect he forgot me,” said Sadau.

  “Where are you staying, sir? I shall send for a carriage for you.”

  “I don’t know. I sat in the Council Chamber for hours. Then the Lord Viruk brought me here.”

  At that moment the gardener entered. “There you are,” he said. “I have been looking for you. My name is Kale.” He thrust out a large hand.

  “Sadau,” said the potter.

  “The Lord Viruk says you are to stay with me tonight. I have a small house about a mile away.”

  Sadau started to speak, then hesitated. “What is it?” asked Kale.

  “I … er … haven’t eaten anything in two days. Is there some food at your house?”

  The gardener chuckled.

  “The Lord Viruk is a fine gentleman, but he does not entertain guests very often.” He glanced at the servant. “We’ll have the rest of that pie, and some bread and salted butter,” he said. “We’ll eat it in the garden. Fetch us some lanterns.”

  To Sadau’s surprise the servant merely bowed and backed away.

  “You must be a very important man,” he said. “I thought he was going to spit upon me.”

  Kale smiled. “I am merely a gardener. But I am the Lord Viruk’s gardener. And believe me, that is almost like being a king.”

  The first Almec army arrived before the walls of Pagaru just before dusk. Across the bay Rael watched the message from the flashing lanterns high on Pagaru’s eastern watchtower. “Four thousand men,” said his aide Cation, reading the lights. “But no siege towers or other weapons in sight. They are making camp just out of zhi-bow range.” On the south side of the river there was no sign yet of the enemy. “The Lady Mejana is coming, sir,” said Cation.

  Rael turned and offered the Vagar woman a slight bow. She was wearing a heavy cloak against the evening winds and she looked older, more tired than Rael had seen her. “I received your message,” she said.

  “Best not to speak of it, for the reasons I wrote in my letter.”

  She nodded. “There are two thousand militia men to call upon in this district,” she told him. “I have assigned runners to every two hundred yards of the wall. If any of your officers need reinforcements the runners will fetch them.”

  “You have worked well and efficiently, Mejana. I commend you,” said Rael absently. Once more he was staring out at the low-lying hills.

  Mejana leaned against the battlements and closed her eyes in exhaustion. For the first time Rael saw her not as the leader of the murderous Pajists, but as a woman, weary and bereaved, doing her best in an impossible situation. Taking a crystal from his pouch he reached out to her. She opened her eyes and backed away. “I don’t want your damned magic!” she said.

  Rael sighed. “I understand. But you will need all your wits about you, lady, in the hours and days ahead.”

  “That might be so, Rael. But I will do my best in this frail, aching body. It is mine. Its strength is mine and its weakness also. All mine. But I thank you for your offer, and hope you will excuse my sharpness of tone.”

  Her words surprised him. He leaned forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps the coming excitement will help to revitalize you. But, failing that, I suggest you go home and sleep for a couple of hours. Even when they come it will take time to set up their battle lines and their weapons. I shall send a messenger for you.”

  “No,” she said. “Already I am feeling a little better. Would you mind if I wait?”

  “Not at all.” Turning away from her he slipped the crystal back into his pouch. He caught Cation’s eye and knew the officer had picked up the emanations from the crystal use. Rael smiled at his aide. The signal lights flashed again from Pagaru. Rael missed the first part of the message but caught it when it was repeated moments later. From their vantage point across the estuary the Pagaru defenders could see the army approaching Egaru.

  “Many wagons,” said Cation. “Mounted bronze? What does that mean?”

  “Bronze weapons are mounted on the wagons,” said Rael. “Signal back. Ask how many they can see.”

  Cation moved away. Mejana touched Rael’s arm and pointed to the east. The first line of marching men could be seen silhouetted against the skyline. Mejana glanced along the wall then looked back at Rael. “You cannot hold a two-mile wall with two thousand men.”

  “No, I cannot,” he agreed. “But they cannot destroy the whole wall. Where they breach it is where the hard fighting will be.”

  Hearing movement behind him Rael turned to see Caprishan climbing to the ramparts. The fat man was breathing heavily and his face was sweat-drenched. “Did you get through to Anu?” asked Rael.

  Caprishan nodded, then took a moment to catch his breath. “We shouldn’t have,” he said at last. “We were seen by a group of Almecs. A large group, maybe two hundred strong. I thought we would all be killed. But they drew back, offering us no harm. What do you make of that, Rael? It makes no sense to me.”

  “Nor me,” said Mejana.

  “It makes perfect sense,” said Rael bitterly. “Think of what Anu is doing. He is recreating the White
Pyramid. It will draw power from the sun and feed all our crystals. As Sofarita has told us, the Crystal Queen has an insatiable hunger. A great need. Once the pyramid is complete she will feed from that.”

  “Then we must stop Anu,” said Mejana. “He must not complete it.”

  “I couldn’t stop Anu even if I wanted to,” said Rael. “But there will be no more supplies to him now and no way to contact him. That is why he requested the second chest. He will feed his workers with crystal power. He is cut off from us, Mejana. We can only hope to defeat the Almecs before he completes the pyramid.”

  “There is other news, cousin,” said Caprishan.

  “Good news, I hope.”

  Caprishan shrugged. “The king of the Mud People has fled the city. He requested a horse for a ride through the parks. Then he fled. Is that good or bad news?”

  “Neither. There is no time to rally the tribes. We stand alone.”

  Caprishan gazed over the battlements at the advancing lines of men. In the dying light they looked inhuman, moving in harmony. From this distance they could have been a line of ants. Caprishan shivered. He did not like to think of insects. It made him itch. “Well-trained soldiers,” he said. “Look at the way they move. Perfect discipline.”

  Behind the defenders the sun dipped low into a blood-red sea.

  And Serpent Seven slid from view over the horizon.

  Methras had insisted that Talaban stay in his old quarters and the Avatar had accepted gratefully. Now he stood on the small deck of the captain’s cabin and gazed back at the towers of Egaru. They were bathed in the light of the dying sun. He felt a shiver run through him as the city faded into the distance, a brooding sense of farewell that he could not shake. Talaban had few friends among his Avatar comrades, but this did not mean that he disliked them. There were some people he had known for almost 200 years, men and women he respected, or admired. Above all else they were family. Almost all the Avatars who had survived the fall of the world were related.

  Now he was leaving them to their fate.

  It did not matter that his mission was to save them. At this moment it felt like desertion.

  “Yet it is not,” said Sofarita. Talaban turned slowly. She was standing by the desk, a goblet of water in her slender hand, a blue robe covering her exquisite form. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail and her neck was sleek and joyous to behold.

  “Eavesdropping is said to be rude,” he told her.

  “I cannot always control the power,” she told him. “Especially when the emotions of people close to me are raised.”

  “When you say close …?” He looked at her and smiled.

  “I mean in close proximity,” she replied, a blush coming to her cheeks.

  “Since you have read my mind you know my feelings for you. Do they cause you concern?”

  Now it was her turn to smile. “No. It is sometimes pleasant to be … held in such high regard. What is it you desire about me, Talaban? My body? My talent? Both?”

  He took her hand and kissed it. “I wish I could tell you,” he said. “I wish I could find the words. But the first moment I saw you it was as if lightning had flashed in my mind. Since then you are always in my thoughts.”

  Gently she withdrew her hand. “We cannot be lovers,” she told him. He thought he sensed regret in her voice. “My powers are growing daily. If I made love to you I think you would die. It is not only the crystals which I draw upon. I am beginning to …” she faltered. “Let us not speak of that.” She walked out onto the small deck.

  Egaru was almost out of sight now. Moving behind her he placed his hands on her shoulders. She shivered at the touch. “Do not fall in love with me, Talaban,” she warned him.

  He laughed then. “As if I had a choice.”

  “We all have choices,” she said, turning her back to the rail. He started to step in closer. She raised a hand and he felt a pressure on his chest pushing him back, even though she was some feet from him. “Think about what you are doing,” she advised him. “You see a woman, but I am no longer fully flesh and blood. I am turning to crystal. Slowly, it is true. But crystal nonetheless. Did you learn nothing from loving Chryssa?”

  The question shocked him. “This is not about Chryssa.”

  “How strange then that you should fall in love with two crystal-cursed women.”

  “That is unfair. I did not know you were so afflicted when first I saw you. And when Chryssa and I were betrothed she was also fully flesh and blood. Do not play mind games with me, Sofarita. I believe I would have loved you had I ridden into your village and seen you working in the fields. If you doubt me, read my mind. Look into my heart. Do you see anything base there?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Nothing base, Talaban. You are a good man. But I am no longer the village girl. I am something far more, and greatly less.” She winced suddenly. “I must go and rest,” she said.

  “You are in pain?”

  “A little. It will pass.”

  He watched her move across the cabin. The sway of her hips made him feel breathless. When she had gone he sat down at the desk, his mind in turmoil. What he would not give to be able to hold her close, to slip that blue robe from her pale shoulders.

  He heard a tapping at the door. “Come in,” he called. Questor Ro entered.

  “Am I disturbing you, Talaban?”

  “Not at all. May I offer you some wine?” Ro shook his head and sat down. He seemed troubled.

  “How did Sofarita seem to you?” he asked.

  “In what way?”

  “Her health.”

  “Fine,” said Talaban. Then he paused. “She is in a little pain, I think.”

  Ro nodded. “It will increase. We may have a problem.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Her power comes from her ability to draw on crystals. There were thousands of them in Egaru. Not so here. There is the chest, the zhi-bows, and our own personal stones. Rael had the Sunfire moved to the city walls. I have warned her of the danger of this journey and she is trying to block herself from drawing on the power here in the ship.”

  “And the problem?”

  “Think of the Vagars who become addicted to narcotics. When they are separated from their opiates they become agitated, sometimes violent. They are filled with cravings. Some have even killed to gain coin to satisfy their desires. Sofarita is suffering now, and we have only just left the city. It will take three weeks to cross the ocean. If she cannot fight the craving she could drain the ship. Or worse.”

  “What could be worse, Ro?”

  The Questor tugged at his beard. “We feed the crystals with human life. The gems merely hold the energy. If Sofarita became desperate we could all be crystal-drawn by her.”

  “She would not do that,” said Talaban. “She is a fine woman.”

  “It may prove beyond her control,” said Ro.

  “What then do you suggest?”

  “How fast can we travel?”

  Talaban considered the question. “We are already moving at speed. Sailing vessels would take two months to cover the distance.” He paused. “However, if we do not concern ourselves with conserving power, and if there are no sudden storms, we could make the journey in twenty days. But there are perils, Ro. Travelling at such speed if we struck a whale, or a reef, we could suffer serious damage.”

  “Twenty days is too long,” said Ro. “Sofarita’s hunger will overcome her before then.”

  “What time scale are we talking of here?” asked Talaban.

  “I would guess three days.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The demons were mighty, their weapons awesome to behold. Those who lived in the Heavenly City gazed upon the Hell Horde and knew fear. Ra-Hel, the king of the gods, watched them assemble. The Queen of Death watched also from afar. Oh, my brothers, this is a tale of heroes and of war. The demons were as many as the leaves of the dark forest, but Ra-Hel was the god of the Sun. And he called upon its power.

 
From the Sunset Song of the Anajo

  In a battle, Rael knew, timing was everything. Sofarita had told him that the Crystal Queen could observe and listen to all plans of action. She could then inform her commander Cas-Coatl, and he would take appropriate measures. This required time. It was the only advantage Rael had.

  The Almecs had massed their men just over a quarter of a mile from Egaru’s walls—just out of range of the zhi-bows. Behind them, even farther back, were more than 40 firing tubes of gleaming bronze. Even the Sunfire could not hit them at this distance, and even if it could Rael no longer had the power for 40 charges. With luck he might manage three.

  Mejana and Pendar had joined Rael on the battlements. “Why don’t they come?” asked Pendar nervously as the morning wore on.

  “They will,” said Rael.

  At that moment the bronze tubes loosed their fireballs. They sailed high over the battle lines, curving down to strike the wall at three different places. Stone ramparts were smashed, men hurled to their deaths. A gaping crack appeared and a section of wall fell away some 300 yards to Rael’s right. Peering over the battlements Rael saw the Almec engineers recalibrating their weapons. Now all the fireballs rained down on that one spot. The 40-foot-high wall withstood twelve of the explosions. Then it collapsed, creating a 30-foot gap through which the enemy could invade the city.

  Rael shouted instructions down to Goray and Cation below. A wagon was hauled into place and twenty men rushed forward to unload it. The bronze Sunfire from Serpent Seven was carried, in sections, up to the ramparts. Four soldiers hefted the base and gear wheels and these were set on a platform alongside Rael. Then the barrel was strapped into place, and lastly Rael and Cation connected the golden wires from the power unit. Rael swung the Sunfire to point at the earthworks barrier which prevented the Luan from flooding in the rainy season.

  The machine began to vibrate.