ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

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.