Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Twenty-Seven

High on the southern flank of the mountain Sofarita pulled herself over a wide ledge then sank to her haunches. Ro hauled himself up alongside her. The wind was bitter here and he wrapped his cloak around Sofarita's shoulders. They were finally above the towering black wall stretched across the land, and Ro could see the lights of a distant city flickering in the distance.

'Can you feel her power?' he asked Sofarita.

'I can feel it.' Throwing back the cloak she stood and stretched her arms out wide. It seemed to the Avatar that she began to glow. Within moments he could feel heat radiating from her. Her limbs stiffened. She was like a statue now, her skin gleaming as if coated with ice. He reached out for her, but her voice sounded in his mind.

'Do not touch me, Ro. This is my destiny. I will die here.'

With a hundred men Cas-Coatl stood at the northern edge of the mist barrier. His engineers were working furiously to find ways to break through. All had failed.

Cas-Coatl waited calmly. The army besieging Pagaru had been evacuated to twelve golden ships, which were now heading back across the ocean, their holds packed with chests full to the brim with charged crystals. Once these had been fed to Almeia her strength would return and she would sever the spell that sought to drag them back to an icy doom.

The setbacks here in the east were temporary. When next he came there would be no Avatars to destroy his supplies. But first he must capture Anu and force him to reverse the magic of the pyramid. Failing that he would destroy the pyramid itself. He glanced back at the score of wagons containing the last of his powder.

A cool wind whispered across the valley. Cas-Coatl shivered. His face always ached with the cold. Lifting his hand he stroked his fingers across the smooth hard glass of his cheekbones.

Crystal-wed.

He had been horrified when the disease took hold. His parents had taken him to Almeia's resting place and had prayed for him throughout the day. Almeia herself had appeared to him in a dream, promising to save him.

The promise had been kept and, with joy in their hearts, his parents had sacrificed sixty slaves to the goddess.

Cas-Coatl's hand rested on the huge emerald set into his belt. It linked him to the goddess in a special way and its power held at bay the onset of crystal death.

There had been a price for salvation. Almeia had never allowed Cas-Coatl to take a wife or sire children. He was to be hers alone for all eternity. Cas-Coatl had paid that price willingly.

He was less sure of his actions now. The Almecs had always taken some prisoners to the Ziggurat for sacrifice. It was pleasing to the goddess. But never before had Cas-Coatl been instructed to butcher entire populations. Yet even this he had done, in the expectation that with the completion of Anu's pyramid the slaughter would cease.

What now, he wondered? Is this to be my life, scouring the earth for fresh victims to murder?

'Lord,' shouted an engineer. 'The mist is lifting!'

'What did you do?' demanded Cas-Coatl.

'I would like to take credit for it, lord. But it was not my doing.'

The breeze picked up, dispersing the mist. Now Cas-Coatl could see the valley beyond and, at its centre, the towering pyramid. Ordering his men forward Cas-Coatl marched into the valley.

As he came closer to the deserted site he saw a movement at the pyramid's peak. A bearded old man was staring down at them. Turning to his soldiers he sent two to apprehend him. From a pouch at his side he drew a large green crystal. Attuning himself to it he held the gem towards the pyramid. He could feel the energy being drawn from it. But the process was incredibly slow, the loss of power infinitesimal. Moving back some fifty yards he tested the crystal again. There was no loss now.

Cas-Coatl laughed. All his fears concerning Anu's pyramid vanished like the mist in the breeze.

There was no threat from it.

Relief washed over him. Was there any point in locating Anu, he wondered? The man was a failure. He had built a golden mountain that could not drain a single crystal.

And yet… Almeia had been so sure of his talent. She had observed the construction and had told Cas-Coatl of the movement of giant blocks as if they weighed no more than a hollow box of wood. Surely someone with that degree of skill could have created a more potent weapon.

The sound of music filtered down to him. The old man on the pyramid was playing a flute, the music sad and wistful. Cas-Coatl felt the emerald at his waist begin to vibrate. With a shock he realized the old man was Anu and he was still casting his spell.

'Kill him!' he bellowed, his voice ringing out. The two climbing soldiers glanced back at him. 'Kill the old man. Do it now!' The men steadied themselves on the ladder and lifted their fire-clubs from their shoulders. At that moment the music stopped, the old man stepping forward to the rim of the peak and standing, arms outstretched, as if beckoning death. At first Cas-Coatl was relieved, for the climbers still had some way to go to reach the summit and who knew what magic Anu could still summon. But as he watched the holy man greet his killers with open arms a terrible fear struck him. Cas-Coatl was a man raised in the principles of blood sacrifice and the power it could bring.

In that one dread moment the Almec general knew that death was what Anu required. He needed his blood to fall upon the stones. He sprang forward and screamed out a single word.

'No!'

The fire-clubs boomed. Anu crumpled and fell back. For several heartbeats nothing happened. There was almost time for Cas-Coatl to wonder if he had been wrong.

Almost.

The crystal at his belt began to tremble and shake. Then it shattered into a thousand pieces.

The Almec stood stock-still, his joints stiffening, his skin pulling tight. Terrible pain smote his chest and belly, as if red spiders were inside his flesh tearing at his organs. He wanted to scream but his face had set. His left leg shattered and he fell to the grass. His right arm broke off. After that Cas-Coatl ceased to exist as a thinking living creature. The silent music of the pyramid swelled over his crystal corpse. Cracks appeared all over his body, widening, growing like spiders' webs. Then he imploded, and all that was left upon the ground was the hollow shell of his armour, his helm, leggings and boots.

Bereft of leadership the Almecs moved back from the pyramid, frightened lest it should turn its wrath upon them.

Leaving the powder wagons behind they fled for the river and the ships that would take them home.

The One-Eyed-Fox gathered his men about him, moving to each and laying his hands over their eyes. With each man he chanted a few words before moving on. At last he came to the Avatars. Talaban guessed the tribesman was singing a prayer song of power to aid the warriors.

He was right — but not in the way he expected. The darkness around them was almost absolute, thick clouds obscuring the moon. But when the One-Eyed-Fox lifted his hands from Talaban's face the Avatar found he could see as clearly as if it was noon. It was bizarre. There was no colour around him, merely a sharpness of black, grey and white.

The shaman summoned the men to him. 'The blood seekers will try to attack us in the dark. But we, like mountain cats, can fall upon them. They will be as blind men.'

The fourteen Anajo men and Suryet hefted their bows and their arrows of flint and melted away into the undergrowth. Talaban made to follow them, but the One-Eyed-Fox stepped in front of him. Touching Talaban's brow he closed his eyes. His voice echoed inside Talaban's mind. 'You make too much noise, my friend. Wait here with your brothers and kill any who reach the end of the trail.'

Then he was gone.

Talaban drew his sword and dagger, signalled his three men to stand with him, and positioned himself at the crest of the trail. More than a hundred of the enemy would be climbing the mountain. Even with the advantage of superb night vision the Anajo could not stop them.

I am going to die here, he thought suddenly. I do not even have the week that Anu promised me. Fear struck him and he felt suddenly nauseous. I don't want to die on this foreign mountain, he thought. I have no sons to carry my blood like a gift into the future, and no wife to mourn for me. He thought of Sofarita. He had accepted Anu's warning of death, but had hoped that Sofarita's power could save him. But she was not here. For the first time in his life Talaban found himself wanting to run away. Yet he did not. Could not. He looked at the man to his right. The shock jarred him from his melancholic thoughts. The Avatar's eyes were wide, the pupils slitted like a cat. He saw from the surprise on the soldier's face that he too must look equally sinister. Talaban grinned suddenly. The man responded, then reached out his hand. Talaban gripped it, then turned and shook the hands of each of the warriors.

'Not as glorious as the last ride,' he said. 'But we lived like gods and we'll die like men. It is enough, I think.'

The screams of wounded men sounded from down the trail, and several fire-clubs were loosed.

Talaban hefted his sword.

Back in the city of Egaru fat Caprishan knelt in his luxurious bed-chamber emptying bags of fully charged crystals into two chests. He had declined Rael's invitation to ride out against the Almecs and was now trying to estimate how much life these crystals would allow him. Like all Avatars his mind was skilled in calculation.

There were over 2,000 crystals, each one capable of keeping a normal man healthy for months. Caprishan was not a normal man. His immense weight and his prodigious appetite had weakened his heart, and he could exhaust a fully charged crystal within six days. Twelve thousand three hundred and sixty days. Less than thirty-four years!

Disappointment seized him. 'Better than being dead and rotting on a field of battle,' he told himself. 'And who knows, perhaps there are more crystals to be found?'

He sat staring into the chests, watching the light glitter on the gems. Much could happen in thirty-four years.

A crystal vase on his windowsill suddenly shattered. The sound made him jump. Pushing himself ponderously to his feet he waddled to the window, looking out to see who had thrown a stone. There was no-one in sight. A strange popping sound came from behind him. He swung, and saw green dust spraying out from the chests. He stumbled back and fell to his knees. The crystals within were writhing and splitting. 'No!' he shouted, digging his fat hands into the first chest, closing his fingers around the few remaining gems. But even inside his grip he felt them shatter and turn to dust. The red gems in the rings on his fingers exploded.

Caprishan began to weep piteously. One of his servants ran into the room.

'What is it, lord?' he asked.

'Leave me alone!' shouted Caprishan. The man backed away. Caprishan pushed himself to his feet and walked to the balcony.

He could wait for the six days to pass, and die slowly and horribly.

Or he could…

His fat body sailed through the air and smashed onto the stone path beside a fountain.

And the music of the pyramid swept out over the ocean.

Serpent Seven was close to the shore when all power vanished. For a little while the black ship struggled on, carried by her momentum and by the inrushing tide. But then she began to wallow in the waves, tipping and rolling.

On the journey back Methras had ordered the crew to strip the cabins and holds of everything that would float. Several rafts had been made, and makeshift oars. The men had thought the orders strange, but they had obeyed them.

The ship swung broadside to the land and tilted perilously. 'Over the side!' yelled Methras. The crew began to throw empty barrels into the sea, then the rafts were hurled after them. One by one the men jumped into the ocean. The strongest swimmers set out for the shore. Those unskilled in the water clung to the rafts or other floating debris. Methras saw a crewman go under. He dived and grabbed at the man's collar, hauling him up. The Vagar struggled and almost pulled them both down, but Methras spoke to him calmly, then helped him to a floating barrel. 'Hold on and kick out with your feet,' he advised the man. 'The tide will carry you in.'

Methras swam to a raft. Several men had clambered aboard and they pulled him up.

He sat down and turned to watch the Serpent. Like a sick whale it rolled and pitched. Then it tipped completely and sank beneath the waves.

'What happened?' asked a Vagar seaman.

'Ami's magic,' he said.

'I thought he was on our side.'

'He is,' said Methras. 'The golden ships will be sinking just as we did.'

'He could have waited another hour,' grumbled the man. 'We'd have been in port by then.'

As the dawn rose over the sea Ro felt a strange sensation rippling through him. Attuning his mind he focused on it. It was music, whispering on the wind. It was discordant and yet… it made him feel a part of everything, the earth, the sky, the rock beneath his feet.

A strangled cry came from Sofarita. He turned to her and saw her begin to tremble. Rising he threw his arms around her, holding her stiff body close. She fell into him, almost carrying them both from the ledge. Ro struggled to stay upright. Sofarita's arms were outstretched, still stiff, her joints locked. She was trying to speak, but her tongue could form no words. 'I am here,' he said. 'I am with you. Remember the rituals. Join with me.'

At first there was nothing, then a terrible pain swept over him. His body was shattering like glass. Ro fought down panic and instinctively concentrated on the reality of flesh, the softness of the wet tissue that bonded into strong muscle, the flowing of rich, warm blood.

The Music in his mind expanded, a magnificent symphony, a song as large as the universe. It flowed over them both.

Sofarita's head lowered to his shoulder, her arms dropping. Ro could feel her flesh beneath his hands, soft and warm. He laid her down on the ledge and knelt beside her. 'Speak to me,' he said. 'Show me you are alive.'

Her eyes opened. 'The power is gone from me,' she said. 'I am a woman again. How did you make the Music?'

'It was not mine.'

She sighed and struggled to sit. 'I am no longer a goddess, Ro. I am just a Vagar woman.'

'You are the woman I love,' he said, surprised as the words rushed out. He waited for her rejection, knowing it would be kind and burn him like fire.

'I love you too,' she said. 'I've known it since the night you saved me from Almeia, when you lay beside me and warmed me with your body.'

A fierce wind swept across the ledge. Ro clung to a rock. Sofarita was thrown against him.

A brilliant light blazed in the sky. Ro looked up, to see a second sun shining brightly through swirling clouds.

A terrible groan came from the wall across the world. Boulders began to rain down from it. Then, with an awesome wrench the wall, and the land beyond it, broke away and lifted into the sky, tipping as it rose. A huge earthquake rippled across the floating land mass and it split into two. Both parts continued to rise towards the second sun. Something glittered in the air like a golden bird. Ro saw that it was a ship, spinning through the air to crash into the airborne land. More ships appeared, as if being drawn up by an invisible whirlwind.

A ring of fire hundreds of miles in diameter flared in the sky. The broken land floated towards it, entering the circle of flames. As Ro watched, the land of the Almecs disappeared. The fire ring began to close, shrinking smaller and smaller.

Then it was gone.

There was no wall now, no dark and threatening land. A vast and ruined plain lay before their eyes.

'The grass and trees will grow again,' said Sofarita, 'and streams will flow. Life will flourish again.'

Ro stood and, holding Sofarita by the hand, walked back along the ledge.

Further down the trail they met the One-Eyed-Fox and Touchstone and Suryet. Four other Anajo tribesmen were still alive.

At the mouth of the trail Ro saw a mound of bodies. Just back from them Touchstone was kneeling beside the fallen Talaban. Ro ran forward, thinking the Avatar merely injured. But as he came close he saw the terrible wounds and the cold, still face. He sighed and felt deep shame at the surging joy he had experienced when Sofarita told him she loved him. Talaban had given his life so that he could hear those words.

Moving to the fallen Avatar he knelt by the body.

'He and the others killed more than twenty,' said Touchstone in Anajo. 'They did not give way. Talaban was the last to die. I tried to reach him, to help him. I wanted to save his life as he saved mine. He saw me running forward. They were all around him. He died just as the sun rose.' Drawing his dagger Touchstone cut a lock from Talaban's hair. 'I shall make a prayer song for him. It will reach all Anajo spirits. They will make him welcome.'

'I am glad you survived,' said Ro. 'That would have pleased him.'

'I thought I would die. But when the second sun rose the Almecs fled. What will you do now, Questor Ro?

Will you try to go back to your place of stone?'

'No. I will stay here if you will have me. I will teach and I will learn. I will find a way to make a history of these events.'

Touchstone laid his hand on Talaban's brow. 'He will live in my heart always. And my sons shall learn of him. And their sons. He is a part of the People now. We will not forget.' Sofarita came alongside and Ro took her hand. She gazed down at the dead Avatar, and Ro felt no jealousy at the sorrow in her eyes.