ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

‘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?’