In that one dread moment the Almec general knew that death was what Anu required. He needed his blood to fall upon the stones. He sprang forward and screamed out a single word.
‘No!’
The fire-clubs boomed. Anu crumpled and fell back. For several heartbeats nothing happened. There was almost time for Cas-Coatl to wonder if he had been wrong.
Almost.
The crystal at his belt began to tremble and shake. Then it shattered into a thousand pieces.
The Almec stood stock-still, his joints stiffening, his skin pulling tight. Terrible pain smote his chest and belly, as if red spiders were inside his flesh tearing at his organs. He wanted to scream but his face had set. His left leg shattered and he fell to the grass. His right arm broke off. After that Cas-Coatl ceased to exist as a thinking living creature. The silent music of the pyramid swelled over his crystal corpse. Cracks appeared all over his body, widening, growing like spiders’ webs. Then he imploded, and all that was left upon the ground was the hollow shell of his armour, his helm, leggings and boots.
Bereft of leadership the Almecs moved back from the pyramid, frightened lest it should turn its wrath upon them.
Leaving the powder wagons behind they fled for the river and the ships that would take them home.
The One-Eyed-Fox gathered his men about him, moving to each and laying his hands over their eyes. With each man he chanted a few words before moving on. At last he came to the Avatars. Talaban guessed the tribesman was singing a prayer song of power to aid the warriors.
He was right – but not in the way he expected. The darkness around them was almost absolute, thick clouds obscuring the moon. But when the One-Eyed-Fox lifted his hands from Talaban’s face the Avatar found he could see as clearly as if it was noon. It was bizarre. There was no colour around him, merely a sharpness of black, grey and white.
The shaman summoned the men to him. ‘The blood seekers will try to attack us in the dark. But we, like mountain cats, can fall upon them. They will be as blind men.’
The fourteen Anajo men and Suryet hefted their bows and their arrows of flint and melted away into the undergrowth. Talaban made to follow them, but the One-Eyed-Fox stepped in front of him. Touching Talaban’s brow he closed his eyes. His voice echoed inside Talaban’s mind. ‘You make too much noise, my friend. Wait here with your brothers and kill any who reach the end of the trail.’
Then he was gone.
Talaban drew his sword and dagger, signalled his three men to stand with him, and positioned himself at the crest of the trail. More than a hundred of the enemy would be climbing the mountain. Even with the advantage of superb night vision the Anajo could not stop them.
I am going to die here, he thought suddenly. I do not even have the week that Anu promised me. Fear struck him and he felt suddenly nauseous. I don’t want to die on this foreign mountain, he thought. I have no sons to carry my blood like a gift into the future, and no wife to mourn for me. He thought of Sofarita. He had accepted Anu’s warning of death, but had hoped that Sofarita’s power could save him. But she was not here. For the first time in his life Talaban found himself wanting to run away. Yet he did not. Could not. He looked at the man to his right. The shock jarred him from his melancholic thoughts. The Avatar’s eyes were wide, the pupils slitted like a cat. He saw from the surprise on the soldier’s face that he too must look equally sinister. Talaban grinned suddenly. The man responded, then reached out his hand. Talaban gripped it, then turned and shook the hands of each of the warriors.
‘Not as glorious as the last ride,’ he said. ‘But we lived like gods and we’ll die like men. It is enough, I think.’
The screams of wounded men sounded from down the trail, and several fire-clubs were loosed. Talaban hefted his sword.