Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Twenty-Two

Viruk was not in the best of spirits as he led his ten Avatars towards the last ridge before the lands of the Erek-jhip-zhonad. He still believed Rael was wrong to send him away from the front line and he had no wish to spend any time at all with foreign sub-humans. It was bad enough being surrounded by Vagars back home.

Rael had told him to choose ten of the best soldiers. Viruk had commandeered the first ten men he had come across at the barracks. He knew them all by name, though none were close to him. Few people were, and he had no friends.

He rode now, slightly ahead of the group, lost in thought, his zhi-bow resting on his saddle. His horse suddenly stumbled. Viruk almost fell across its neck. The zhi-bow tumbled to the ground. Annoyed, Viruk hauled on the reins and dismounted.

At that moment thunder broke all around the riders, a ferocious wall of sound that stunned Viruk. Five riders were smashed from their saddles, four horses went down screaming in agony. Viruk swept up his zhi-bow. The strings danced into light. On the ridge above them he saw a score of copper-skinned warriors carrying ornate black clubs. One of them pointed a club at Viruk. Smoke and flame belched from the weapon. Viruk felt a whoosh of air pass his face. His zhi-bow came up. The warrior's chest exploded and he was hurled back into his comrades.

Three of the Avatars began to loose bolts into the enemy, who dropped their fire-clubs, drew serrated swords and charged down the slope. Viruk killed five of them before they had covered half of the distance. The charge faltered. On the slope above more Almec soldiers appeared. The fire-clubs boomed again. Two of the remaining Avatars fell. Viruk transferred his aim to this new force, killing three before they dropped from sight. The first attacking group of Almecs had almost reached the last surviving Avatars.

Viruk shot two as they closed upon him, and then a third as the man screamed a war cry and raced towards him, sword raised. Viruk's bolt took him full in the face. His head disappeared. The last Avatar soldier killed two more, but a third stabbed him in the belly, and a fourth thrust his sword through the Avatar's throat. Dropping his zhi-bow Viruk drew sword and dagger and leapt at the three Almecs. The first died, his throat ripped open, the second staggered back and fell with Viruk's dagger in his heart. The last man turned and sprinted for the slope.

Sheathing his sword Viruk knelt by the dead Avatar, lifting his zhi-bow. It took several seconds to attune his mind to the warrior's weapon, then he sent a bolt into the fleeing man's back. There was a burst of flame from the Almec's dark armour and he pitched forward and lay still.

From the slope the fire-clubs blasted once more. Two of the surviving horses were punched from their feet.

Viruk ran back to where his own zhi-bow lay, swept it up and grabbed the reins of his horse. The animal was bleeding from a hole in its flank. Vaulting into the saddle Viruk kicked the beast into a run.

Shots came from behind him, but nothing struck. The horse galloped on for almost half a mile then collapsed.

Viruk leapt clear. Ahead was a grove of trees. Carrying the two zhi-bows he ran for them. Glancing back he saw more than thirty Almec soldiers moving into the open. They had spread out in a fighting line and were advancing warily.

Viruk ran on. The area was not thickly wooded and he could see no natural defensive point. He tried to picture exactly where he was in terms of the Luan and the many settlements along the border. He decided he was at least 10 miles from the nearest Vagar village and almost double that to Ammon's capital. The ground was rising and Viruk pushed on. He could just see the soldiers entering the trees some 400 yards back. Reaching the top of the rise he came to a sudden stop. The ground dropped away sharply and he found himself standing on the brink of a cliff overlooking the Luan River 200 feet below. 'Oh this is pleasant,' he said, sourly. A series of shots sounded from behind him. Instinctively he ducked down, listening again for the whooshing of wind close to him.

There was nothing, save that dirt spurted up from the ground some 20 feet behind him. Viruk grinned. Hefting the soldier's zhi-bow he sent three bolts flashing through the trees. The first struck a branch, which exploded in a shower of sparks. The second took a man in the shoulder, ripping his arm from his body and puncturing his lung.

The third thundered against a tree trunk. Fire spurted from the bark and black smoke began to billow from the hole.

The Almecs took cover behind the trees, occasionally darting forward to another hiding place closer to the fleeing man.

Viruk was not a man given to great angers, but he felt an exception was called for here. Ten Avatars were dead, he had no horse, and he was facing almost thirty warriors. Behind him was a murderous drop to a stony nverbed. Two shots whizzed by him. With a soft curse be rose and began to run along the cliff edge, looking for a way to climb down. A wicked blow took him high in the shoulder, ripping the skin. Dropping the soldier's bow Viruk stumbled a few feet further. The Almecs ran from their hiding places, fire-clubs raised. Viruk jumped from the cliff edge. The Almecs swept forward, running to the edge and looking down. There was no sign of the man they were pursuing. They milled at the lip for some moments then, gathering up the zhi-bow, walked back into the woods. Ten feet down, his body hugging the cliff wall beneath narrow overhang, Viruk heard them move away. This has not been a good day,' he said. 'Not good at all.' His arm was aching abominably. Swinging his legs sat upon the ledge, removed his green crystal from pouch and held it to the wound. The flesh began knit almost immediately, but the bone beneath was bruised. The collar of his black leather jerkin was ripped. Viruk lifted his hand to it — and felt something small and round lodged there. Pulling it clear he saw it was a blood-smeared ball of lead.

'Foul weapons,' he said. 'No beauty in them at all.' Viruk sat for some time, his long legs dangling over the ledge. From here he could see the red and gold cliffs opposite, rearing up against a blue sky. He scanned the landscape. It was rugged and deeply beautiful. Few flowers grew, but the pale green of the trees by the river's edge and the different shades of gold in the cliffs was greatly pleasing to the eye.

Rolling to his knees he edged along the cliff, seeking hand and footholds to climb back to the top. It would not be possible to make the climb carrying his zhi-bow, but he was loath to leave it behind. From where he stood it was around 12 feet to the lip. Leaning out from the ledge he threw the zhi-bow high into the air. It sailed up and over the clifftop. Slowly and carefully he climbed the face. His shoulder throbbed with pain, but there was no lack of strength to trouble him. Heaving himself over the top he picked up his bow and walked back into the trees.

He knew the mission was over and that it would be foolish to go on. Ammon was either dead or in hiding.

Either way there was little likelihood of finding him.

And yet his orders were clear. Find Ammon and protect him.

Ten Avatars were dead and Viruk was wounded. The enemy had already landed and their troops were patrolling the riverbanks. What chance for a single Blue-hair to avoid them and find a man he had never seen?

Viruk thought about it. The odds appealed to him.

Added to which there was the certainty that he would kill more enemy soldiers.

With that thought in mind he set off with a light heart.

Sofarita, Questor Ro and Touchstone were sitting cross-legged on a rug in one of the garden archways. Their eyes were closed. Questor Ro's oldest servant Sempes entered the room and stared at the trio. Their faces were calm and relaxed. Confused, the old man cleared away the used goblets and plates and quietly left them.

Ro was in a kind of heaven. Golden light shone around him and he could both hear and feel a surging music circling him. It was curiously discordant and yet enchanting. And it did not intrude on his communication with Sofarita and Touchstone. In fact it was almost the reverse, as if the music was the channel through which they spoke. In moments, or so it seemed, he had learned the language of the Anajo from Touchstone, their minds joined together by the power of Sofarita. Language skills had always come easily to Ro, but this method of learning was wondrous beyond description. Images and words formed in his mind, rolling together with utter clarity. It was a vivid language, full of direct imagery. In an instant he absorbed all the myths of the Anajo, tribal histories and heroes and, more importantly, their enormous love of the land.

Sofarita brought them back, and as Ro opened his eyes he felt a powerful sense of loss.

'Welcome to my home,' he said, in perfect Anajo, as Touchstone woke. The tribesman grinned.

'Your pronunciation is perfect,' he replied. 'It is good to hear the language of my people spoken again.'

Ro stretched and rose. Sofarita remained for a moment with her eyes closed. Then she sighed and smiled at the two men.

Old Sempes entered the room. He bowed to Ro. 'E caida manake, Pasar?' he said. The words meant nothing to Ro. He wondered for a moment if the old man was making fun of him. Then he realized with a shock that his mind was locked into the language structure of the Anajo. Sempes was speaking the common tongue. And Ro had forgotten it!

'What is he saying?' Ro asked Touchstone. The tribesman looked surprised.

'He wants to know if we are hungry.'

Sofarita reached out and laid her slender hand on Ro's arm. He felt heat flow through him, and his mind relaxed. 'Are you ill, lord?' he heard Sempes ask.

'No I am fine. You have worked hard today, Sempes. Enjoy the rest of the day. Go for a walk. Whatever you wish. I will attend to the needs of my guests.'

'Yes, lord. Thank you, lord.'

As the old man departed Sofarita spoke. 'How interesting,' she said. 'Somehow the speed of learning Anajo affected your ability to return to your own tongue. It was as if the new language replaced the old completely.' Ro nodded. He was already finding his understanding of Anajo becoming more hazy.

'Some skills need time to acquire — even with the aid of magic,' he said. 'Somehow that is comforting. When do you meet with Rael and Mejana?'

'Soon,' said Sofarita. 'I said I would go to the Council Chamber.'

'I shall harness the horses,' said Ro. He paused. 'Actually I don't know how to harness horses. Still, it cannot be too difficult — not for a man who can learn a foreign language in a few heartbeats. Will you give me a hand, Touchstone?'

Together they left the room. Sofarita moved to a couch and lay down. Rael would need information on the Almecs. She closed her eyes once more — and rose through the building to float above the roof.

First she flew south over the three cities of Boria,

Pejkan and Caval. The last was a smouldering ruin. Sofarita could hardly believe what she was seeing. The houses had been systematically destroyed and there were bodies everywhere. She moved closer. The dead numbered n their thousands. Down by the harbour two golden ships were being loaded with scores of chests. On the open decks more were being stacked and tied. Sofarita pushed her face against the dark wood, passing through it. Within the chests were blood-smeared crystals, thousands of them. She recoiled from them and flew high above the harbour.

The people of Caval had been slaughtered for the Crystal Queen. The chests would be carried back over the ocean, the crystals poured into one of the many openings in the golden pyramid. Then Almeia would feed.

Swiftly she flew on to Pejkan. Here there was less destruction, but outside the city several hundred people had been herded into a meadow, where they were being guarded by the giant krals. The Vagars sat huddled together, silent and fearful.

On she travelled to Boria. Fifteen golden ships were docked there and two more were sailing in. The streets were largely deserted, but she saw Almec soldiers marching down the wide avenue, heading for a camp they had set up in the Great Park. The camp was neat and well-ordered, huge tents set in tight lines. She estimated the numbers of men there at more than 3,000.

Then she sped east, to Ammon's capital. Hundreds of bodies littered the streets here, and she saw soldiers marching through the poorer quarter, rounding up people and herding them towards a makeshift encampment by a narrow stream. Along the banks of the stream were fifty open chests, filled with glittering crystals.

Standing in front of the chests was the tall officer she had first seen, his face shining like glass. He was wearing a breastplate of gold and a tall golden helm with three feathers set into the visor. Beside him stood a hunchback dressed in a green tunic. The latter was holding a rod with a golden circle at the tip.

The Mud People were forced to move out onto open ground and stand in a ragged line. A column of Almec soldiers moved into sight, filing out to stand before the prisoners. The officer gave a command. The black fire-clubs came up — and thundered! The prisoners were hurled backwards. Some still lived, and struggled to rise.

Soldiers ran forward, stabbing them. When all were dead the soldiers slit open their chests, tore out their hearts, then filled the open cavities with crystals.

Sofarita had seen enough. Rising high she flew over the city, making a count of the enemy soldiers. At least another 3,000 were here, and more than a hundred krals.

Rael had told her that Viruk was somewhere close by, seeking the king. She concentrated on him, picturing his cruel handsome face. Then she relaxed and flew with her spirit eyes closed, holding his image in her mind.

At last she slowed and opened her eyes. Some ten miles from the city a man was sitting by the riverbed, rubbing red clay into his hair. He was whistling a tune as he did so. Some distance away she saw movement in the trees. Two huge beasts, covered in white fur and wearing black cross belts, were moving towards the man.

He had not seen them.

'Viruk!' she called. He did not hear her.

There had to be some way to communicate with him. But she did not know how. Floating closer she pushed her spirit hand against him. He did not flinch and she felt no contact. The krals were close now. She could see the blood lust in their strange round eyes. Saliva was dripping over their fangs.

Suddenly they charged.

Viruk swept up his zhi-bow and spun. A bolt of light tore into the chest of the first beast, exploding with a brilliant flash. Blood and shards of bone sprayed into the air. The second beast was almost upon the man. Viruk stood there calmly. As the kral lunged he ducked suddenly and threw himself to the right, rolling to his feet as he landed. The kral blundered on for several paces and swung again. Viruk laughed and sent a zhi-bolt into his face.

The head disappeared. 'Clumsy, clumsy,' said Viruk. He scanned the tree line for more enemies. Satisfied he was alone he returned to the riverbed and continued to rub red clay into his hair. Then he dragged the sorry mess back and tied it in a ponytail. Leaning over the water he glanced down.

'Do you look the part, my dear?' he asked himself. 'I am afraid the answer has to be no. One cannot make silk look like sackcloth. But it will have to do.'

There had to be a way to communicate with him, thought Sofarita.

She was crystal-joined and powerful. It was inconceivable that she could not touch this man. Joined to crystal! That could be it, she thought. He was wearing a belt pouch. Sofarita reached inside it. There were two crystals there. She concentrated on them. They began to vibrate. Viruk felt the movement and, puzzled, drew them out. Sofarita's spirit hand rested on the first of the green crystals.

'Can you hear me, Viruk?' she said. He swung round. "Speak to me,' she urged him.

'I can't see you. Are you a voice of the Source?'

'Yes,' she said, thinking that he would react better to that thought than if she announced herself as the village giri he had bedded.

'I usually hear a man's voice,' he said. 'Still, who do I you want me to kill?'

'You must find Ammon. Rael needs him.'

'I already know that,' he said. 'I am heading for the city now. Of course the task is a little difficult since I don't know what he looks like and if he escaped he's probably in disguise. Are you an angel of death?'

'No, I have been assigned to protect you,' she said.

'Oh, that's nice. Protect me from what, exactly? I didn't notice you warn me when the krals were close by.'

'You needed no help there. Wait here. I shall return soon.'

Detaching herself from him she sped back to Egaru. Ro and Touchstone were waiting quietly in the garden room. She opened her eyes. 'Have you ever seen Ammon?' she asked Ro.

'Yes. Tall man, womanly. Beautiful face.' Rising from the couch Sofarita crossed the room and took his hand.

'Show me! Think of him!'

Ro did so. Without another word she returned to the couch and freed her spirit. Using the same technique as she had in finding Viruk she flew east, coming at last to a series of cliffs. In a cave on the eastern slope she found three men: one old, one frightened, and one standing guard in the cave mouth. He was tall and, as Ro had described, had a face of exquisite beauty, with deep violet eyes. Rising into the air she returned to where Viruk sat by the river's edge. He was hurling flat pebbles out over the water, watching them skim.

'Ammon is some twelve miles south-east of here. He is travelling with a bearded old man and one other.

Close your eyes.' Viruk did so. Sofarita filled his mind with a picture of the three. He cried out and clapped his hands.

'The little potter,' he said. 'Well, well! I almost killed him, you know. Of course you know. You were there.

Are you sure there's nobody you want killed?'

'No-one,' she said.

'How strange. Usually when the Source speaks to me he asks for deaths.'

'Not this time. Go and find Ammon.'

'Can you take human form?'

'No,' she said.

'That's a shame. I could really use a woman. I get very edgy after a battle. Do I have time to find one?'

'No! Now go and do your duty.'

She pulled back from him and returned to Egaru.

She opened her eyes and breathed out a long sigh. 'Viruk is completely insane,' she said.

'Yes,' agreed Ro. 'All Avatars know that.'

'How has he survived so long?'

'He's rather good at what he does,' said Ro.

Ammon stood in the mouth of the cave, staring out over the golden cliffs and the distant, shimmering Luan.

Tnat morning the three of them had crept along a dry watercourse to the southern wall. They were moving slowly and with great care when they heard the sound of marching feet. Crouching down against the crumbling dirt they had listened as prisoners were brought out onto the flat ground above them. Sadau's bladder had released and the little man pushed his face into the dirt in embarrassment. Shots rang out. People screamed in agony. For an hour or more the killing continued. Ammon could not see the horror but the sound would haunt him for the rest of his life. He heard children wailing and begging, women pleading for the lives of their young.

None were spared. Eventually the soldiers marched away. Ammon pushed himself to his feet and peered over the lip of the watercourse. Bodies lay everywhere, dead eyes staring up at the sun. His gaze flickered over them. And stopped.

Some 20 feet away was the woman who had come to Sadau's home the night before. Her children lay close by, as did the toddler Ammon had rescued. All the victims had their chests ripped open.

Ammon forced himself to look at all the faces, determined that he would never forget any part of this dreadful slaughter.

Then he dropped down to where the others waited. 'I should have stayed at home,' whimpered Sadau.

'I do not think so,' said Ammon. 'Come, let us move on.'

The watercourse had once flowed under the southern wall, joining a tributary to the Luan. The three men moved out into the shadow of the outer wall. The land here was open, with little cover. If there were sentries upon the parapets the fleeing men would be seen as soon as they moved out. Remaining where they were throughout the day they crept away under cover of darkness.

Now, as he stood in the cave mouth, Ammon was still fighting for calm. His immediate desire was to find his army and march back to the city, bringing bloody retribution to the killers. But he knew that his men, though well trained, could not stand against the fire-clubs of the enemy. The need for revenge was immense and he struggled with it. Now was a time for cool thinking, he knew.

Anwar approached him. 'You are very quiet, my king.'

'I was thinking. They killed my people like cattle. I must find a way to make them pay.'

The old man looked close to exhaustion. His face was grey with fatigue. 'Marshal your thoughts, sire, and remember my teachings. What is the first rule?'

'Establish priorities,' answered Ammon, with a smile.

'Good. What is the first priority?'

'Escape.'

'And the next.'

'Become strong. Find the army. Then establish a new chain of command. Summon the tribal chieftains, and create a force to win back my kingdom.'

'Each in its turn, my lord. Concentrate on one problem at a time. Give it your full attention. There is a time for emotion, a time for action. But always there must be thought. What have we learned about the enemy?'

'They are deadly, and they are evil,' said Ammon, instantly.

'More than that.'

Ammon considered the question, but could find no answer. 'You must tell me, councillor.'

'They have not come for conquest, lord, but for slaughter. Had they wished to subdue the city they would have established curfews, brought in city leaders and put in place new laws. Instead they are simply murdering the inhabitants. For what reason I do not know. But death is their prime consideration. The question is, have they only attacked us? Or have other peoples suffered? Have they, for example, attacked the Avatars? Are their cities conquered? Before we can make any plan of action we need to know the scale of the invasion.'

Ammon nodded. 'You are right, but these are questions for another day. You talk of establishing priorities, Anwar. The first priority for you is rest. Eat some of that bread, then sleep.'

'We must get further away, lord,' objected the old man.

'And we will. But only after you have slept.'

Anwar sighed, then smiled. 'I must confess that I am weary,' he said. He shuffled to the back of the cave and lay down.

Ammon glanced up at the sky. 'I have never been entirely convinced of the existence of a supreme being,' he whispered. 'But now would be a good time to convince me.'

'Would you like some bread, lord?' asked the little potter, moving alongside the king.

Ammon tore off a chunk and sat down, indicating that Sadau should sit beside him. The potter did so. 'The woman you brought to your home, what was her name?'

'Rula, lord.'

'Do you believe in the Great God?'

'Of course.'

'Then say a prayer for her. She and her children were among those murdered as we hid.'

Sadau's face crumpled, and tears fell from his eyes. 'I am sorry, little man,' said Ammon. 'But it does seem I have saved your life again. Had you remained in your home you would have died with them.'

'Why would anyone want to kill children?' asked Sadau. 'What did they gain from such a… such a crime?'

'I cannot answer that. But I will do all that I can to avenge them.'

'It won't bring them back, will it?' said Sadau, moving away to the rear of the cave.

'No, it won't,' said Ammon, softly.

Ammon was asleep, his dreams dark and bitter. He awoke with a start and sat up. The cave was dark now, but some noise had stirred him. Anwar was still sleeping, as was the potter. The king turned towards the cave mouth — and froze. Silhouetted in the entrance stood a monstrous shape. Almost eight feet tall and covered with pale grey fur, which shone like silver in the moonlight, was one of the beasts he had seen back in the city.

Ammon slowly pushed himself to his feet. The creature's face was hairless and pink, its eyes round and vaguely human. The mouth was open, showing huge fangs. It made no move to approach. It was wearing cross belts of black leather, from which hung two clubs of pitted iron. Ammon did not move. On the beast's shoulder, tucked under the cross belt, was a golden scarf. Ammon recognized it. It was one he himself had worn only two days before.

The king had heard of dogs belonging to men in the northern tribes who could track down fugitives by scenting a cloth worn by them. But this was no dog.

The creature stood still, its round eyes glittering. But it made no hostile move. Ammon nudged the sleeping Anwar with the toe of his boot. The old man grunted and woke. He saw the beast and lay very still. Soldiers would be following the creature, Ammon knew, and the knowledge filled him with a sick sense of despair.

Anwar had been right. They should have pushed on. Now, perhaps, there would be no opportunity for revenge against these wanton killers. The potter awoke — and screamed. The sound was shrill within the cave and Ammon jumped. The beast still did not move.

'It is well trained, at least,' said the king, fighting to keep his voice calm. Sadau threw himself on his face, covering his head with his arms. Anwar sighed and climbed to his feet.

'This does not bode well, sire,' he said, unsuccessfully trying to sound as calm as the king.

From beyond the kral came the sound of men climbing the rock path. The beast faded back into the night and lour men entered the cave. The first was dressed in a gold breastplate, a feather-decorated helm upon his bead.

The others were merely common soldiers carrying fee-clubs.

'You would be Ammon,' said the officer, approaching the king.

'Indeed so.'

'They said you looked like a woman. They were right.'

The officer lifted a small sack from his shoulder and laid it on the cave floor. As he did so the drawstrings came partly undone and half a dozen green crystals tumbled to the ground. Turning to the soldiers, the officer said, 'Well, what are you waiting for? Kill them!'

'A moment of your time,' said Ammon conversationally.

The man glanced at him, surprised by the apparent lack of concern in the victim.

'Make it quick,' he said. 'I am cold and looking forward to a hot meal.'

'Before I die I would be interested to know your purpose in my lands. As I escaped the city this morning I could not help but observe the mass executions taking place. Is it merely that you love slaughter, or is there a reason for your actions?'

'The finest reason in the world,' said the officer. 'We feed the goddess. When you are dead I will open your chest and pour in these crystals. They will absorb what remains of your life force. The goddess will draw it into herself — and you with it. Then you will know glory and everlasting life. You will become a part of the greatness of the Almec people.'

'I see,' said the king. 'So it is your intention then to kill everyone in my lands?'

'The goddess is very hungry,' said the officer. 'In saving our race she exhausted herself. Now do you have other questions, or may we proceed?'

'I have one,' said Ammon. 'Do you have other armies here?'

'Many armies,' said the officer.

'Have you attacked the Avatars?'

'The Blue-haired ones? Yes. Their cities will fall, as did yours. No-one can withstand the armies of the goddess.'

'Well,' said Ammon, with a smile, 'they are the only questions I have. So, let us get on with it.' While speaking he moved in closer to the officer. Before the man realized he was in danger Ammon sprang forward, wrenched the officer's golden dagger from his belt, curled an arm around the man's neck and pressed the point of the blade under his chin. 'Now,' said the king, 'I think we should renegotiate our position.'

'You don't understand,' said the officer, as if speaking to a child. 'This will avail you nothing. My men will simply shoot me, and take my life force for the queen. Then my life eternal will begin earlier than I had thought.'

Ignoring him, but keeping the knife in place, Ammon looked at the soldiers. The three men had aimed their fire-clubs at the officer. 'Put down the weapons, or he dies,' Ammon told them. Before they could answer, the officer thrust his neck down onto the dagger. The blade pierced his jugular. Bright blood spouted over Ammon's hand. The officer spasmed. Ammon pulled the dagger clear and held the man's body as a shield.

At that moment there was a great roar from outside the cave — then a blinding burst of light. Blood, fur and bone sprayed across the entrance. Startled, the soldiers swung away. A dark-clad figure leapt into view and dived into the cave. The fire-clubs exploded. The dark figure lifted a zhi-bow. Two bolts flew from it. Two soldiers died horribly. The third threw down his fire-club, drew a sword and ran at the archer. Dropping his bow the warrior leapt to meet him, drawing a thin-bladed dagger from its sheath. The sword slashed down. The warrior swayed aside and rammed his dagger into the Almec's right eye. As the body fell the warrior dragged his knife clear and wiped the blade on the Almec's tunic. 'I am Viruk,' he said with a wide smile.

'What in Heaven's name have you done to your hair?' asked the king, staring at the red mud which caked Viruk's head.

'It's a disguise,' said Viruk. 'I was trying to look like one of your people. It didn't work too well, did it?'

'We don't actually use river mud, Viruk. The clay is mixed with various colours, perfumed, and then applied by a skilled barber.' He stepped in close and peered at the matted mess. 'And we usually remove the ants… and the cattle droppings.'

'Perhaps I'll start a new fashion,' said Viruk cheerfully. 'Who is this?' he asked, nodding towards Anwar.

'My First Councillor, Anwar. The other man is—'

'I know who he is,' said Viruk with a chuckle. 'How are you, potter? How come you're still alive?'

'I don't know, lord,' wailed Sadau. 'It is a mystery to me.'

'Probably born under a lucky star like me. Well, come on, man, get on your feet. We've a long way to go.'

'And where, pray, do you think we are going?' asked Ammon.

'Back to Egaru. The Questor General ordered me to bring you there safely. He also told me that the Avatars are to offer you every assistance against the newcomers.'

'I will march with my own army,' said Ammon.

'Wait, sire,' said Anwar. 'It might be best to change our plans. I can go to the army, and bring them to Egaru. It would be a great weight taken from me if I knew you were already safe there.'

'Safe with the Avatars? Now there is a novel thought.'

'You know the old saying, sire? The enemy of my enemy must therefore be my friend? It could not be more true. The Avatar have many weapons and their cities are strong. Once your people know that you still live they will flock to your battle standard — wherever it is raised.'

'Very well,' said Ammon. 'I accept your offer, Viruk. I take it you have horses close by?'

'No.'

'It will be a long walk.'

'Ah, but it will be made in the very best of company,' said Viruk, hauling the little potter upright and clapping him on the shoulder. 'Isn't that right, Sadau?'

'Anything you say, lord.'

Viruk moved to the dead Almecs and hefted one of the fire-clubs. He spent several minutes trying to understand its mechanisms, then hurled it to one side. 'Ugly weapons,' he said. 'Noisy — and the smoke smells worse than a pig fart.'

'We obviously move in different circles,' said Ammon. 'I cannot say I have ever seen a pig's backside.

However, I will take your word for it.'

Viruk laughed aloud, with genuine good humour. 'Can it be,' he asked, 'that you dislike me? Surely not.'

'You are no more than an assassin, Viruk. A man in love with death, I think.'

'Your point being?'

'Putting it simply? I despise you and all you fail to stand for. Is that clear enough?'

'You'll change your mind when you get to know me better. Now let us be moving. My zhi-bow has no more bolts. I do not relish the thought of tackling a kral with only a dagger.'