ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

Something struck Rael in the side of the head. He toppled from the saddle. Three Almecs ran at him. The great grey, Pakal, reared up over them, lashing out with his hooves. Two men fell. Rael rolled to his feet. He was still holding his zhi-bow. His fingers flickered on the light strings. One after another six bolts flashed into the Almec line, blasting men from their feet. Rael grabbed at the saddle pommel and got his foot into the stirrup. A lead ball smashed into his helm, tearing it from his head. A second shot struck his face, snapping back his head. In agony now he hauled himself into the saddle and fired four more bolts. Some of his riders were milling around him, but at least thirty more had continued their charge deep into the enemy ranks. Rael spurred the grey after them, shooting as he rode. There was no need to aim now. The enemy was all around him.

A man rushed forward, thrusting his fire-club up at Rael. The explosion was deafening. Smoke and flame belched out, the shot punching a hole through Rael’s armour and ripping into his belly. His zhi-bow spent, he hurled it aside and drew his sabre, slashing it down into the man’s head. The Almec jumped back, his face streaming blood. A fusillade of shots tore into Pakal. The great horse reared and fell. Rael struggled to rise. Two shots spun him and he fell onto his back.

The noise of the battle receded from him. Struggling to his knees he tried to focus. But all he could see was a distant bright light at the end of a long dark tunnel. The light beckoned him and he recalled a time when he had, as a child, been lost in a forest. Night had come on swiftly and Rael had blundered through the trees in growing panic. Then he saw a golden light, like a candle in the distance. It was the lantern-lit window of a crofter’s cottage. His young heart had soared then, for the light meant safety and life.

It was soaring now – and his spirit soared with it.

From the rear of his force Cas-Coatl watched the last ride of the Avatars with a sense of foreboding and deep regret. He had been honest with Rael. Cas-Coatl sincerely wished for union with the Avatar. He felt a kinship with them and, in a strange way, wished that he too could be a part of that glorious death ride.

But Almeia had come to him last night and told him of the reality of Anu’s pyramid, and of the decision by Rael to fight to the last. She had ordered the destruction of the Great Library and with it the annihilation of the Avatar families. As always, Cas-Coatl had obeyed.

Now he watched as the Avatars thundered on. Half their force down, their leader dead, the riders were hurtling towards the hidden trip wires and spiked trenches prepared by his men under cover of darkness. It would be an ignoble end to such a valiant effort, but Cas-Coatl could not allow the destruction of his powder supplies. Without powder the mortar tubes and guns of his men would be useless.

The huge emerald on his belt began to vibrate. Touching his hand to it he heard the voice of Almeia. ‘Your men have almost broken through the mist. Go and join them. Take Anu alive. What he has done, he can undo. He knows the Music.’

Cas-Coatl transferred his gaze to the battlefield. The front lines were under heavy attack from the Vagars and city dwellers, the Avatars were still riding hard, and inflicting murderous losses on his troops. ‘We could still lose here, my lady,’ he said.

‘We are lost anyway if Anu completes his pyramid. The woman Sofarita is drawing on my power. Our defences are weak. Anu must be taken. Go now!’

Cas-Coatl turned to his aide. ‘Maintain our position here, and when the Avatars are all dead lead a counter­attack from the left flank. The city should be ours by nightfall.’ The man saluted and Cas-Coatl threw one last glance at the charging Avatars, then made his way down the slope to where the three golden ships were anchored.