ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

‘It is not lost yet, Questor,’ Talaban pointed out.

‘No, not yet. Eight of the golden ships sailed up the Luan. They will have landed an army to our rear. An equal number moved south. The Questor General has sent orders to Pejkan, Boria and Caval to surrender without a fight. He believes such a move will prevent excess casualties, and destruction to property. I disagree. If he had commanded the Vagars to fight they would have killed at least some of the enemy.’

‘And been wiped out in the process,’ Talaban pointed out. ‘And that would have affected the morale within the twin cities.’

‘Those are all we control now,’ said Niclin, sourly. ‘Five golden ships have been destroyed. Nineteen remain. And, within days, there will be two – perhaps three – land-based armies to oppose us.’

‘One problem at a time, Questor,’ said Talaban. ‘Today we have a victory. Let that suffice for now.’

Niclin nodded, and when he spoke again there was sadness in his voice. ‘I saw three Avatars killed today. In an instant. Men I have known for more than two hundred years.’ He flicked his fingers. ‘Like that they were gone. This morning they were immortal. They were gods. Now they are twisted dead flesh. If I were a religious man I would suspect that the Source has deserted us.’

Talaban poured a goblet of wine and handed it to Niclin. ‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that victory always goes to the strong. The Source – if such a creature there be – has little to do with it.’

Touchstone chuckled and shook his head.

‘You have something to say, savage?’ said Niclin.

Touchstone moved smoothly to his feet. ‘You dream small dreams,’ he said. Then he left the room.

Thirty-five Avatars had lost their lives on this, the first day of battle. Thirty-five immortals. Men whose lives had spanned the centuries. Rael sat in the Council Chamber, his heart heavy. With him were Questors Niclin and Caprishan and strewn on the table before them were several of the black fire-clubs. Lifting one, Rael examined it. There was a long hollow metal barrel, encased in polished wood, and a number of sprung levers. ‘It is not a weapon of magic,’ said Niclin. ‘It is not linked to the mind of the user.’ Opening a pouch found on the body of a dead Almec he tipped the contents to the table. It was filled with a gritty black powder. A second pouch contained small round balls of heavy metal. ‘In some way,’ continued Niclin, ‘these balls are propelled with great force along the barrel.’

‘Find out how,’ said Rael.

‘We captured fifty Almecs,’ said Caprishan. ‘They are being questioned now. But they are hardy men and are saying little.’

Rael glanced up. His eyes were cold. ‘Take ten of them to the Crystal Chamber. Draw the life from one of them while the others watch. Then see how swiftly they want to speak.’

‘The weapons are not as effective as zhi-bows, Rael,’ said Niclin.

‘I want to know everything about them. Their range, the speed of use. On the dock they were used once only. I saw men struggling to recharge them. How long does such a recharge take?’

‘We will discover these things,’ said Niclin. ‘The ques­tion is, what action do we take now?’

There is nothing we can do,’ said Rael. ‘They act, we react. We do not have the men to carry the battle to them. Not yet. But Viruk has gone to aid Ammon. With his army, and the tribes who owe him allegiance, we can yet destroy the invaders.’

‘You really believe we can achieve a victory?’ asked Caprishan.

‘I have to believe it,’ said Rael.

It was midnight before the carriage came to a halt outside his home and Questor Ro climbed down wearily, neglecting to thank the driver. Ro’s broken hand was extremely painful, and his ribs and left leg were aching. He had used the ritual to begin the healing process, but broken bones needed at least four sessions, and no more than two in any single day. Otherwise the point of the break remained brittle and liable to snap easily.