ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

‘And how will I do this, Holy One?’

Anu passed him the two scrolls he held. ‘The first is my will, and I bequeath all that I have to you. It may be that this also will not be honoured. I cannot say. The second is a map, showing where I have buried twelve chests full of gold coin. Enough to pay every man who worked here. And every whore who still carries tokens.’

‘You would be a fool to trust me with all that gold,’ said Yasha. ‘Why did you not give it to Shevan?’

‘I have been foolish in my life, Yasha. No man who draws breath can say otherwise. But in this I am right. You are a proud man and an honourable one. I might not trust you with my wife or my daughter, but this is only gold. You will see it paid, and you will do it with scrupulous honesty.’

‘Aye, I will,’ admitted Yasha. ‘I will do it for you, Anu.’

Tucking the scrolls into his shirt he sighed. ‘Why is it that you wish to remain here?’

‘I must. I am the capstone. I am the last of the Music. And now you must go, Yasha. Leave me.’

The big foreman rose, then leaned forward and kissed the old man’s brow. ‘You will not be forgotten, Holy One.’

‘Yes I will,’ said Anu, with a smile. ‘All men are. Go now!’

Yasha moved to the ladder, took one last look at the white-bearded old man sitting on the stone, then climbed back to the valley floor.

Talaban, his zhi-bow completely discharged, leapt from the boulder into a group of Almecs. His sword slashed out, slicing through the neck of the first man, his dagger plunging into the chest of a second. Touchstone ran from hiding with several Anajo warriors and together they tore into the Almec ranks.

The suddenness of the attack dismayed the Almecs, who fell back down the trail. Talaban swept up a fallen fire-club and discharged it into the fleeing group. Then he flung it aside.

Glancing up at the sky he saw dusk was approaching. They had held the Almecs for almost a full day and a night. Only three Avatars remained alive and fifteen Anajo. The defenders had been pushed further up the mountain and almost forced out of the narrow trails. One more push and they would be on the exposed flank where they would be swiftly overrun.

Blood was running into Talaban’s left eye, seeping from a cut on his brow. He wiped it away and moved forward to the line of boulders that marked the end of the trail. As he peered round them several shots rang out, smashing into the stone close to his head. Talaban swore and ducked back. ‘They are massing again,’ he told Touchstone.

One-Eyed-Fox moved alongside them. He spoke to Touchstone. ‘What did he say?’ asked Talaban.

‘Need hold till dawn.’

‘Dawn is a long way off.’

Time for new plan,’ said Touchstone.

Talaban gave a grim smile. That’s true. What do you suggest?’

‘Attack!’ said Touchstone.

Her words were a dagger in his heart and he slumped to the rock wall, his head in his hands.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

And so Star Woman and the Goddess of Death came face to face on the Last Day. The Goddess was powerful, but Star Woman had with her Storro, the Speaker of Legends, to guard her heart, and Tail-avar, the god of wisdom, to defend her body, and Touch the Moon to protect her soul. Ay a! When will we see such heroes walk again?

From the Sunset Song of the Anajo

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.