And he did not have hours to spare.
Moving back to the door he managed to wedge the shard into a crack. Then he pressed the edge into his left wrist above the bindings. The skin parted and blood began to flow, wetting the dry leather. He let the flow continue for some minutes until he could feel it dripping over his fingers and dropping to the floor. Then he bunched his muscles and pulled with all his strength.
The bindings held. Taking three quick breaths he tried again. This time there was a little movement. Steadying himself he twisted his left wrist, and pulled again from a slightly different angle. The bindings stretched a fraction more.
He could hear footsteps approaching. The sound gave him renewed strength and he dragged back on the thongs. The skin of his wrists was torn further open as he did so, further drenching the leather. As the footsteps reached the door the thongs parted. Talaban staggered, then lurched towards the opening.
He heard the bar being raised, then the door swung in. A tall man entered. He was carrying a shoulder sack and in his hand was a small saw. He froze as he saw Talaban waiting for him. The Avatar leapt, his right hand sweeping forward, fingers extended. The points of the fingers slammed into the man’s throat, smashing the bones beneath. He fell back against the wall, gurgling and struggling for breath that would never come again. Talaban pushed past him. Three guards stood beyond the doorway.
There was no way he could defeat them all.
At that moment a dark figure leapt from the low roof. The small bright hand-axe sliced through the throat of the first guard. Talaban sprang at the second, sending a left hook that exploded against his chin. The third guard drew his sword and lunged at the Avatar. The blade took Talaban under the left ribs, ripping away the flesh. Talaban grabbed the sword arm, hauling the Almec forward – straight into Talaban’s rising left elbow. The man half fell. As he righted himself Touchstone’s axe buried itself in his skull.
‘Better move quick,’ said Touchstone. ‘Horses beyond village.’
A cry went up behind them. Talaban swung and saw Cas-Coatl and a dozen men running across the square. ‘Now be good time!’ said Touchstone. The tribesman sprinted off. Talaban began to run after him. By the time the Avatar reached the outskirts of the village Touchstone was far ahead, disappearing down into a shallow dry gully. Talaban was close to exhaustion and could run no further.
He risked a glance behind and saw that the Almecs were gaining on him. He heard the thunder of hooves. Touchstone came riding out of the gully, leading a second horse. As he rode past, Talaban reached up, grabbed the saddle pommel and vaulted into the saddle. Fire-clubs sounded behind them, but no shots came near.
The two men galloped their mounts towards the west and up over the hills, riding fast towards the distant Luan. After a while Talaban could just make out the silhouette of the Serpent.
Half an hour later he was sitting in his old cabin, Touchstone stitching the wound above his hip. Methras was sitting opposite him. ‘I did not expect to see you again,’ he told Talaban.
‘I hope you are not too disappointed.’
Methras grinned. ‘Touchstone promised to cut my throat if I didn’t give him the chance to track you down.’
Talaban winced with the pain from his wounds. ‘They took my crystal,’ he said.
‘Use mine,’ said Methras, opening the pouch at his side. Talaban looked into the man’s blue eyes. Only a week ago Vagar possession of such an item would have brought about a swift death sentence.
‘Can you use it?’ asked Talaban.
‘After a fashion. But I will learn.’
Talaban accepted the gem, and held it over the hip wound. Instantly the flesh began to knit. ‘I will teach you the rituals,’ he said.
‘I know them. But my Vagar blood holds me back,’ said Methras, with a smile.
‘How long were you on that roof?’ Talaban asked the tribesman.
‘Long time. Too many soldiers close.’
‘How did you get there without being seen?’