Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Twenty-One

Anwar watched as the fireballs rained down on the capital then turned to the young king. 'We must leave, highness. The royal guards will not be able to stop them.'

Resplendent in a gown of brilliant blue satin edged with gold, the king swung towards him. 'Where is my new army, Anwar? Where are my soldiers?'

'They are training, my lord, in the hills to the north. But I fear even they would prove ineffectual against these… savages.'

A fireball struck the side of the palace. A large section of painted plaster fell from the ceiling of the king's bedchamber. Dust filled the air. 'I rather think now is the time, highness.'

Ammon moved to the window and stared malevolently across at the golden ships. Three of them had come close to the shore. Copper-skinned warriors in golden armour were streaming down lowered gangplanks. Fifty of the king's guards rushed at them. The enemy soldiers were carrying what looked like short black clubs. They held them to their shoulders. Fire spewed from them. The first line of guards were hurled from their feet. The remainder broke and ran.

Hundreds of enemy warriors were ashore now. Ammon swung from the window.

'Where would you have me go, my friend?'

'I would suggest the opposite direction to that of the enemy, highness. And let us move nowl'

Anwar led the king through to the rear of the apartments, down the narrow stairwell, and out to the servants'

entrance. A young slave was cowering below a kitchen window. Anwar called to him. 'Come here, boy! Do it now!' The slave blinked nervously, then crept forward. 'Remove your tunic. At once.' The boy lifted the drab grey cloth over his head and stood naked. Taking the tunic, Anwar gave it to the king. 'Be so good as to put this on, highness,' he said.

'You want me to dress in a rag?'

'I want you to be alive at the day's end, highness.'

Ammon pulled the satin gown from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Then he donned the grey tunic.

Anwar opened the side door and looked out. Refugees were streaming away from the city centre. A fireball landed in their midst. Three men and a woman were lifted high into the air and dashed against the wall of the palace. Anwar moved out into the throng, closely followed by the young king. They flowed into the crowd, which surged towards the southern quarter of the city. Anwar linked his arm with the king. The old man was breathless now, his lungs burning, his legs weary. Ammon threw his arm around him and half-carried him.

Terrified screams broke out from the refugees ahead of the fleeing column. Huge beasts wearing black leather cross belts on their fur-covered chests had appeared from an alleyway. They were tearing into the refugees with fang and talon. The crowd panicked and began to run faster.

Anwar saw an opening to an alleyway on the left and pulled Ammon into it. He no longer knew where he was, but he stumbled on. Ammon took him by the arm, pulling him to a halt. 'Rest for a moment,' said the king.

'You are exhausted.'

Anwar shook his head and struggled to move on. The king held him. 'You are too valuable to me, Anwar. If you keep this up you will have a seizure. Now let us walk.'

'They were krals!' said Anwar. 'I saw one once, while journeying south. It was dead. But it was huge and terrifying nonetheless.'

Ammon gazed about him. The street was very narrow and human excrement had stained the road below the small windows. A rat moved out from a doorway and scuttled across Anwar's foot. The old man jumped back.

'You take me to the most interesting places,' remarked Ammon.

More screams sounded from a parallel street. The king now led his councillor, moving swiftly to another alley, then cutting right into a deserted market square. A small child, little more than a year old, was sitting on the steps of a building. It was wailing loudly. Ammon swept it into his arms. 'What are you doing?' cried Anwar.

'Seems a shame to leave the mite,' said Ammon. 'And he's not heavy.'

Anwar was lost for words. Had the king lost his senses? Had the attack on the capital unmanned him? 'Let us move on, highness,' he said.

At the next corner they rejoined the line of surviving refugees who were heading towards the southern gates.

The king came to a halt. 'What is it?' asked Anwar. They were on high ground now, and Ammon pointed to the land beyond the city walls. Enemy soldiers had fanned out across the gateways. The toddler, exhausted by his wailing, was now asleep on the king's shoulder.

'That's what we should do,' said Ammon. 'Find a place to sleep.'

'They will search the city for you.'

'Thirty-six thousand dwellings. That will take time.'

Ammon swung left again and, holding the toddler close, moved back into the narrow lanes and alleys of the poorer quarter. Here there were people who had not run. Their clothes were rags, their faces filthy, their eyes devoid of emotion. Scabrous figures sat in open doorways and everywhere there was the stench of poverty. A stick-thin woman emerged to stand in front of Anwar. 'You wants to pass through here, rich man? Well you can pay the toll.' She held out a filthy hand.

'I am carrying no coin,' said Anwar.

'Oh give her your ring, Anwar. I'll buy you another.'

'You listen to your pretty boy, old man,' said the woman, producing a small knife and holding it to Anwar's throat.

Holding the toddler in his left arm Ammon's right hand flashed out, his slender fingers snapping around the woman's wrist and twisting it. The knife clattered to the stone. Ammon picked it up and tossed it to the woman.

'You do not seem too frightened by the invasion,' he said, conversationally.

She rubbed her wrist. 'What difference will it make to the likes of us? They won't kill us. We're nothing to them. Just as we're nothing to the likes of you. Life will go on. Or it won't.' She shrugged. 'Now give me the ring!'

'First you will take us to the village of potters.'

The woman grinned, showing brown and broken teeth. 'You want to have a vase made?'

'And several goblets. Do this for me and I will pay you handsomely.' She gazed at his rough grey tunic.

'I don't see no money pouch.'

'She has a point, Anwar. Are you carrying coin?'

'I… I don't think this is the time or place to discuss it…'

'Give it to me.'

Anwar reached inside his purple gown and produced a small, but heavy, pouch. 'Lead on, lady,' said Ammon.

'You are a strange one and no mistake,' she said. With a wink to a man standing in the shadows she moved off. Ammon passed the sleeping toddler to Anwar and followed her. He seemed uninterested in the slim man who followed them. Anwar cast nervous glances in the man's direction and kept close to the king.

They walked for almost half an hour, passing through foul-smelling alleys and several derelict areas. In the distance they could still hear explosions and faint screams. Finally the woman pointed down towards a winding stream. Small houses were built on both sides of it, the village being joined by a small stone bridge. 'That's the village of potters,' she said. 'Now pay me handsomely!'

Ammon opened the pouch. The coins inside were all gold. He removed two and handed them to the woman.

The slim man moved forward. 'I think we'll take it all,' he said, drawing a long thin dagger.

'Greed is so unbecoming,' said Ammon. 'You have more gold than you have seen in a long time. There is no more to be had. Now, I have other matters to attend to. And I do not wish to kill you. So be content.'

'Should we be content, my dove?' the man asked the woman.

'Nah!' she said. 'Gut him, Beli.'

The knife flashed forward. Ammon parried it with his right forearm then slammed the heel of his palm into the man's filthy face. The point of contact was just below the nostrils. Without a sound the robber fell forward to the ground. The woman stood and stared at the fallen man. Then she dropped to her knees alongside him. She started to shake him. 'There is no point,' said Ammon. 'He is dead.'

'You killed him, you bastard!' she screamed. Ammon spun on his heel, the edge of his left hand thundering against her neck. There was a sickening crack and she fell across the body of her lover. Kneeling beside the corpses Ammon retrieved the golden coins.

The toddler awoke and started to cry. Ammon took him from Anwar and rubbed his back. 'There, there, little one. Be still. We'll find you food in the village.'

'You amaze me, highness. You are very skilled at fighting.'

'Skill is relative to the quality of the opponent. They were hardly expert.'

'Even so. Where did you learn to make those moves?'

'You remember the charming boy who visited us from the north. The tall one with yellow hair?'

'Yes.'

'He taught me to. The secret, apparently, is in the lack of speed with which the move is begun. It is rather effective.'

'You mastered the art very well, highness. But there is a great difference between practice with a friend and combat.'

'Indeed there is. Combat is far more exhilarating.' Ammon moved out down the slope towards the village.

'What made you ask for this place, highness?' asked Anwar.

'I have a friend here.'

'You have a friend who is a potter?'

'Not a friend exactly,' admitted Ammon with a smile. 'But he does owe me his life.'

Sadau the potter had been frightened now for most of the morning. The explosions in the north of the city, the fleeing refugees and the news of the invasion had turned his bowels to water. All that kept him from fleeing himself was the thought that, whoever the enemy, they would need pots. He was not an important man — had never wanted to be. And now his very anonymity would protect him.

He hoped.

Which caused the sight of the disguised king standing at his door to unnerve him utterly. Sadau stood, open-mouthed and wordless as he recognized his monarch.

'I think you should invite us in,' said Ammon, pushing past the potter. An old man followed him. He was carrying a small sleeping child.

'Wh… what do you want… sire?' asked Sadau. The king moved into the dingy room and sat down on a wicker chair.

'Somewhere to rest for the night. A little food for myself and my friend. Oh… and some milk for the babe.'

Sadau stood stock-still, his mind in a whir. The enemy — whoever they were — would be hunting for the king.

They would search all the houses. And probably kill whoever they found hiding him. It was like a nightmare.

'How… how did you find me?' he asked.

'I knocked at the door of one of your neighbours.'

'My neighbours know you are here?'

'I rather think they did not recognize me. The poor rarely have the opportunity to observe me closely. Now, come along man, play the host. Fetch us some food.'

'You can't stay here, highness. They will be searching for you.'

'Exactly so. But I really don't think they will expect to find me in a hovel.' Ammon rose from his chair and approached the potter, laying his slender hands on the man's shoulders. 'You are a very lucky man, Sadau. You tossed my brother's head into the Luan and you did not die for it. Now you have an opportunity to earn the king's gratitude. Once I have escaped and gathered my army, I shall smite these invaders and re-take my kingdom.

Then you will be well rewarded.'

'I don't want to be rewarded. I want to be alivel'

'A noble aim, potter. But let us concentrate on one thing at a time. And the first priority is food. Fetch some.'

Sadau stumbled into his small kitchen, returning with a fresh-baked loaf and a plate of raisins. 'I have no milk for the child,' he said.

'Borrow some from your neighbours. But be quick, for there are beasts abroad.'

Sadau was in a daze as he unlocked the door and stepped out into the sunset. All was quiet now and he felt like running away, sprinting to some darkened place where he could lie down, close his eyes, and pray that he would wake and find this was all merely some fevered dream. Suddenly he heard screams in the distance and a terrible howling. The little man ran to the home of his cousin, Oris. The small house was dark, the shutters closed. Sadau tapped on the door. 'It is me, Sadau,' he called.

Inside there were no lanterns lit. Oris was not at home and his wife Rula was sitting in the dark, her two small children beside her, her babe in her lap. 'Are we all going to die?' she asked, her voice breaking. She was a mousy woman, round-shouldered and perpetually weary. As indeed anyone would be who had to live with Oris.

The big riverman was a noisy, boisterous man, who treated his friends like loved ones, and his loved ones like servants. Rula had been worn down by his infidelities and his endless lies.

'No, we are not going to die,' said Sadau. 'Where is Oris?'

'He did not come home. He left this morning to work at the river. What am I going to do, Sadau? What will happen to my babes if he's dead?'

Her distress touched him, cutting through both his fear and his dislike of her. 'Come to my home,' he said.

'We will wait for Oris there. I am sure he is not dead.' Probably hiding in the home of some whore, he thought.

Carrying one of the children and leading the other by the hand he led them back to his home. Rula seemed less frightened now, but the children were unusually quiet.

As they entered the house Rula stiffened. 'You have friends here,' she said. 'Perhaps I should wait at home.'

'It is all right,' Sadau assured her. 'They are customers of mine.' Locking the door he put down the child he was carrying. She sat upon the floor and began to cry. Ammon approached her, kneeling down beside her.

'Don't cry, little one,' he said. 'It is just a game. Tell me your name.'

'Saris,' said the child. 'My daddy owns the river.'

'What a coincidence,' said Ammon. 'My daddy owned the river too.' The small room was crowded now. The toddler carried by Anwar began to wail.

'He's hungry,' said Ammon, glancing up at Rula. 'Do you think you could feed him?'

She nodded and, passing her own sleeping babe to Sadau, moved to the toddler, lifting him to her lap and opening her dress to expose a large breast. Instantly the toddler began to suckle greedily.

A silent hour passed. Then there came a knock at the door. Sadau almost fainted with the shock. 'Who is it?' he called.

'Oris. Is Rula with you?'

Sadau opened the door and a heavy-set young man entered. Rula ran to him, hugging him close. 'I was so worried,' she said.

'You and me both,' he confided. 'It's terrible out there. Corpses everywhere. It's quiet now. They say the king is dead, and all the nobles either fled or slain. When the attack started I thought they were Avatars. But they're not. They're red-skinned. The palace is a ruin.'

Ammon stepped forward. 'You say they killed the king?'

Oris stared at him, suspiciously. 'Customers,' said Sadau, lamely.

'Yes. They dragged his body out to the main square and hung it from a rope.'

'How did they know it was the king?' asked Anwar.

'How would I know? He was dressed in a long blue robe. They found him in the palace, I guess.'

'How sad,' said Ammon. 'I always liked him.'

'We better be getting home,' said Oris. 'The gods alone know what tomorrow will bring.'

As they were leaving, Ammon asked Rula if she would take charge of the abandoned toddler. She said that she would and he gave her a gold coin which she instantly handed to Oris. The big riverman looked closely at Ammon. 'Have I seen you somewhere before?' he asked him.

'Quite possibly. I travel the Luan regularly.'

'Right. Well, may the gods protect you. May they protect us all.'

Sadau closed the door behind them. Then he turned to the king. 'They think you are dead,' he said happily.

'Not for long. Someone will see the body and know it is not me. But for now we appear to be safe. Tomorrow you will help me find a way to leave the city.'

'Please, lord,' begged Sadau, 'I am not a brave man! I learned that when I watched the Avatar, Viruk, kill all my comrades.'

Ammon smiled. 'You underestimate yourself, potte You mistake natural fear for base cowardice. You ai not a coward. Had I been in your place I too woul have thrown the head into the Luan. That is one of th reasons why I did not have you killed. Look at me. Loo me in the eye.' Sadau did so. 'Do I look to you like foolish man?'

'No, lord.'

Then trust what I say. You have more courage tha you know. And tomorrow we will leave this city and you will be safe. Is that right?'

'Yes, lord,' said Sadau, glumly.

Rael was in a cold and bitter mood. The council meeting had been awkward in the extreme, the Vagars saying littk leaving Mejana to voice their concerns. Well might they be silent, he thought. Traitors all. What especially galled him was that most of the Vagars present were men known to him, men who had prospered under Avatar rule, merchant and artists, many of whom had been entertained by Rae at official functions. Now he knew they had plotted to kill men like Baliel and Ro. Perhaps even himself. He wanted to strike out at them, send soldiers to their homes and drag them from their beds.

Forcing such sweet thoughts from his mind he turned his attention to Talaban, who was sitting quietly on a couch staring into a goblet of wine.

'You are very quiet,' he said. 'Did she bewitch you?'

'I rather think she did,' said Talaban with a rueful smile. 'I made a fool of myself. I couldn't take my eye off her. My tongue seemed twice its size and I spoke like a dolt.'

'Do not be deceived, Talaban. She is the greatest enemy we could imagine.'

'Hard to believe, sir.'

'Trust me. You don't know what she is — what she will become.'

'I know she is helping us and she is ready to take the battle to the enemy.'

'That is now,' said Rael. 'Every day she will grow in strength and knowledge. She will change, Talaban.'

'How can you be so sure?'

'She is crystal-joined.'

Talaban reacted as if struck. 'No! That cannot be!'

Rael misread the cause of his concern. 'It can — and is. Viruk found her in a local village. He bedded her and realized she had a cancer in her lungs. Typically he broke the rules and used his crystal to heal her. No real problem there. Except that she happened to be that one in a score of millions. The crystal changed her, became part of her. The process is continuing. Today she can read minds, heal wounds, and her soul can fly to the farthest corners of the earth. But tomorrow, or next month, or next year, she will be like the Crystal Queen, her powers vast. Do you believe that such a being will willingly die?'

'She will become crystal,' whispered Talaban, 'like Chryssa.'

'Not like Chryssa,' snapped Rael. 'Like the Crystal Queen, or the third Avatar Prime. How many thousands died in the Crystal Wars? How many gave their blood to keep him alive? According to contemporary accounts more than a hundred thousand died to feed him.'

'How long does she have in human form?' asked Talaban.

'I don't know. Two years. Five. Who cares? The question is, what can we do to regain the initiative?'

Talaban felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Sofarita dying. His mind reeled at the thought.

Pushing the dread back he looked up at Rael. The Questor General was tired, his eyes dark-rimmed. 'How long since you slept, sir?' he asked.

Three days. I will sleep soon. So, tell me what you think.'

'I think it is pointless to try to plan against either Sofarita or the Vagars. The Almecs are the immediate enemy. They must be defeated. In truth we have little chance, but none at all if we are divided. The council meeting did not bode well. The Vagars were tense and uneasy. No real effort was made to draw them into the discussions. But I like the woman Mejana. Her words are careful and well thought out. She is no fool.'

'She ordered the murder of Baliel.'

Talaban rose from his chair. 'May I speak frankly, cousin?'

'Always.'

'Put your hatred aside. It will affect your judgement. One enemy at a time. Mejana is, for the moment, an ally.

She needs to be wooed like any tribal chieftain. The Almecs require all your thinking, all your enormous gifts of strategy. When they are dealt with, then you can worry about other enemies.'

Rael sighed. T know what you say is true, but it is hard, Talaban.' He filled a wine goblet and drank deeply.

'You say you want to command a land force. Why?'

'You are short of commanders, cousin. Viruk is a fine fighter, but he is no leader. You need someone who can carry your strategies through on the battlefield. I do not wish to sound immodest, but I am the best you have.'

'I cannot afford to lose the Serpent, Talaban.'

'You will not lose it. I have another captain in mind. He is bright, courageous and skilled.'

'I know of no one with the training to take command.'

'He is my sergeant, Methras.'

Rael hurled the empty goblet across the room. 'A Vagar! You would put our most powerful battle weapons in the hands of a Vagar? Are you insane?'

'He has Avatar blood, Rael,' said Talaban softly. 'There is no question of that. And he is loyal.'

'Loyal? Yesterday I would have considered the Vagars at the meeting loyal. I would have considered you loyal. Now it seems you have been training Vagars behind my back, breaking the law. My law.'

'Yes, I broke the law,' admitted Talaban. 'And I am sorry that has caused you pain. As you know I have tried in the past to teach other Avatars the secrets of handling the Serpent. None proved adept at it. None showed any aptitude. When I knew we were facing ships of battle I had to find someone who could take my place if I was injured. Equally I needed someone who could loose the Sunfire. When we sailed into Pagaru's harbour it was Methras who sank the enemy ships.'

Rael fought for calm. 'It is done now, but what is done can be undone.'

'Think for a moment, sir,' urged Talaban. 'You will want, at least in the short term, to win over the Vagars on the Council, to convince them that they genuinely have a voice in matters of state. What better way than to announce a Vagar as captain of the Serpent — how did you put it? — our most powerful battle weapon? We both know it is only of real use against other ships. Admittedly the Sunfire could be used against land targets, but it only has three charges. Added to which there will be Avatars aboard, all armed with zhi-bows. Methras could hardly overpower them all.'

Rael sank into his chair. 'There is truth in what you say,' he admitted. 'It would help win over the Vagars. But let us be honest with one another, my friend. We need a miracle. I pray that Viruk has reached Ammon. That would be a start.'