Rael glanced nervously at the line of Almec firing tubes. They were silent for the moment, but engineers were recalibrating three of them. Rael knew that within minutes fireballs would be hurled in his direction. “You’d better get back,” he told Mejana. “We will be the targets now.”
She shook her head and stayed where she was.
The Almec army was marching forward in a broad line towards the hole in the city wall.
The Sunfire ceased vibrating. Rael sighted the weapon on one section of earthworks and, closing his eyes, pulled the firing lever. The massive bolt struck the earthworks. For a moment nothing happened. Then, deep within the barrier the bolt exploded. An enormous cloud of dust and earth billowed up. The freed waters of the Luan began to pour through the gap, gushing down over the plain. The power of the river tore away a 60-foot section of the barrier and the flood began.
The Almecs continued to march. The water flowed over their feet. Holding their fire-clubs high the advancing soldiers came closer and closer to the gap.
Rael swung the Sunfire again. “Lift the rear,” he called out to Goray and Cation. With the barrel resting on the crenellated battlements the two men, and three other soldiers, grabbed the rear section and lifted it high.
To Mejana their actions seemed almost comical. Thousands of men were about to attack them and the Avatar General was wasting his time with a single weapon. Even if he struck the advancing lines it would kill perhaps twenty men.
Two fireballs were loosed. They sailed high then dropped towards the battlements. The first thundered against the ramparts, sending a tremor along the wall. The second flew over the defenders, crashing against the roof of a warehouse, and setting it ablaze.
Rael put his hand on the lever of the Sunfire and looked down on the men splashing their way towards the city. Mejana came alongside him.
“What is it you are planning?” she asked him.
The vibration in the weapon ceased. “Close your eyes,” said Rael softly. Then he fired the weapon.
The bolt flashed down, missing the first line of marching soldiers and striking the water behind them. Mejana opened her eyes—and saw the horror that followed. Blue sparks rippled out from the point of impact, dancing across the water. Hundreds of Almecs began to jerk spasmodically. Blue flames spread over them. Their clothing caught fire, their weapons discharged. Everywhere men were dying. The advance faltered.
“Give me one more! Just one!” shouted Rael, gazing up at the skies.
Three more fireballs exploded close by. Mejana was hurled from her feet by the blast. Dazed, she struggled to rise. Two of the Avatars were down, their white cloaks blazing. Pendar, pulling off his own cloak, ran to them, smothering the flames. Rael rose up alongside the Sunfire. The left side of his face was horribly burned. With a grunt of pain and effort he swung the Sunfire. “Someone lift it!” he shouted. Cation, Pendar and Mejana ran to him. Together they grabbed the rear and hoisted the Sunfire high. Rael pulled the firing lever.
Another bolt struck the water, this time further back.
Once again the blue fire rippled out. Turning, the Almecs started to flee the field. More than 200 died in the second blast.
“There’s time for another!” said Rael. His face was horribly disfigured, the flesh stripped away. His left arm was also badly blistered and black.
“No, sir,” said Cation. “We will die if we stay here.”
“You coward!” shouted Rael.
“He is not a coward,” said Mejana. “Now do as you are bid!” Taking his right arm she pulled him forward. Rael sagged against her. Together she and Cation carried him to the rampart steps. Behind them Pendar was helping Goray to his feet. The Avatar had been blinded by the last fireball. Pendar got him to the safety of the steps just as the battlements blew apart. The Sunfire was sent spiralling into the air, its power chest destroyed.
Below the wall Cation and Mejana lowered Rael to the ground. Cation produced a green crystal, which he held to the General’s burnt face. Mejana watched as the skin began to repair, the inflammation dying down. The swelling around his eye sank back, the blisters on his flesh receding. Rael sighed. Reaching up he took Cation’s arm. “I am sorry for what I called you,” he said.
“It was nothing,” said Cation. “Lie back. Relax. Let the crystals do their work.”
Just beyond them Pendar was holding a crystal above Goray’s ruined eyes. Cation began the healing process on the General’s burnt arm, then swung to Goray. He paused as he saw Pendar at work. For a moment there was anger, then it faded. Moving alongside the young Vagar he added his own crystal to the process. “Try not to think of healing,” he advised him. “Merely concentrate on what should be. See good, clean skin. Picture him as he was. And let the crystal do its work.”
“Thank you,” said Pendar.
Goray groaned and opened his eyes. “I can see,” he said. Lifting his hand he took hold of Pendar’s shoulder. “You have my gratitude, boy,” he said.
A soldier on the ramparts shouted down. “Someone is coming. Fetch the Questor General!”
Cation moved back alongside Rael, and helped him rise. Together they climbed the rampart steps, clambering over the fallen masonry.
Cas-Coatl was moving toward the wall, his hands clasped behind his back. He could have been out for a stroll, and showed no tension as he walked closer and closer towards the defenders, ignoring the zhi-bows trained upon him.
“What is it you want, Almec?” shouted Rael.
“We need to talk, Avatar. Do I have your permission to enter the city?”
“You do,” said Rael. He, Cation and Mejana walked along the ramparts, then down the last set of steps before the gaping hole in the wall. Water was ankle-deep here and Cas-Coatl waded through it to stand before the Questor General.
“Can we talk somewhere where it is dry?” he asked.
“Here is fine,” said Rael. “Have you come to surrender?”
Cas-Coatl smiled with genuine humor. “We need to talk together, man to man,” he said. “Just you and I.”
“Very well,” said Rael. “Follow me.” The two men walked past the ruined wall to a building close by. Pushing open the door Rael entered the guard-house. Three Vagar soldiers were sitting in the narrow room eating a breakfast of flat-baked bread and mutton. They scrambled to their feet as the General strode in. “My apologies to you,” said Rael. “But I would be grateful if you would allow us some privacy.” Grabbing their food the men bowed, then left. “Sit down,” said Rael.
Cas-Coatl did so. Rael stared hard at the man’s glasslike brows and cheekbones. “How is it that you survived being crystal-wed?”
“The Crystal Queen needs me. She saved me, and for that I serve her.”
“My daughter was crystal-wed. For her there was no savior.”
Cas-Coatl said nothing, and the two men sat in silence for several moments. Then Rael spoke. “Why are you here, Almec?”
“You were right and I was wrong,” said Cas-Coatl. “I did underestimate you. You are not merely talented sub-humans. You are, in fact, Almecs. Or perhaps we are Avatars,” he said with a smile. “My queen believes we should unite. We have much to offer you, and you can enrich us.”
“And, of course, I am to believe this?” said Rael.
“It is the simple truth, Rael. I have the weapons to destroy this city utterly. I do not need to lie to you.”
“Somehow I do not see myself travelling the world merely to rip out people’s hearts,” Rael told him.
“Nor I. Some sacrifice is essential, in order to keep the lower orders in their place. But this slaughter does not sit well with me—nor with my queen. It is, sadly, necessary at this time. But once Anu completes his pyramid there will be no need of such mass extermination. We are brothers, you and I. I do not wish to see you Avatars die.”
“And if we agree?”
“My troops will enter the twin cities. No Avatar will be harmed.”
“The Vagars?”
“Anu’s pyramid is not y
et complete. And my queen is hungry. But do not concern yourself with sub-humans, Rael. If you have favorites among them, take them to your home. They will be spared.”
“This is not a decision I can make alone, Cas-Coatl. I will need to call my people together.”
“Of course. You have until dawn to make a decision. I urge you to make it a wise one.”
Talaban was deeply troubled. Several times now he had gone to Sofarita’s cabin. She had ordered him to leave her in peace, and he had heard her groans of pain. Ro had warned him she would not withstand a twenty-day trip, and Talaban now believed this to be true.
There was no way to increase the speed of the Serpent. Talaban sat in his cabin running the problem through his mind again and again, seeking a solution.
Ro came to him, and together they discussed methods of increasing the power, calculating the effect of reducing the weight by throwing overboard every unnecessary item. But even if they emptied the ship of furniture and weaponry, and ordered every crew member over the side they could not decrease the time needed by more than a day.
Touchstone arrived at dusk, but he could offer no solutions, and sat silently as they spoke.
“If Anu were here he could speed the Dance of Time,” said Ro.
“And if the ship had wings we would not be in peril,” snapped Talaban. He was instantly contrite. “I am sorry, cousin. I am tired and on edge.”
“We bring him,” said Touchstone.
“Bring who?” responded Talaban.
“This Holy One.”
Talaban rubbed at his eyes and fought for calm. “Are you suggesting that we turn back and ask Anu to travel with us?”
“No,” replied the tribesman. “Magic not in body. Magic in spirit. We fetch spirit.”
“And how do you intend to achieve this … this miracle?” asked Ro.
“One-Eyed-Fox,” said Touchstone, looking directly at Talaban. “Like before. We fly.”
“The last time almost killed both of us,” said the warrior. “But I agree. It is the only way.”
Touchstone moved into the center of the cabin and sat cross-legged on the rug. Talaban sat opposite him. Placing their hands on each other’s shoulders they lowered their heads until their brows touched.
Relaxing his mind Talaban flowed into the trance state, seeking focus without concentration, the melding of opposites, the closing of the circle. As before, he felt himself moving, spinning. Colors danced in his mind, swirling rainbows passing over, around and through him. And then again he heard the music, the drumbeat of the universe, the whispering of cosmic winds.
Once more he and Touchstone were as one, and together they called out for the One-Eyed-Fox, chanting his name in time to the drumbeat, creating a song that echoed out across the void.
Time had no meaning now, and the chant continued. The swirling colors brightened, merging into blue—the blue of a summer sky. Talaban gazed down and saw a forest below them. A swirl of grey smoke lifted from the forest, lazily drifting toward them. As it reached the floating figures it coalesced into the shape of a warrior. “What is it that you need, my brothers?” asked the One-Eyed-Fox.
Talaban told him. Reaching out, the figure of smoke took hold of their hands, and again the colors blazed around them. This time when they faded the scene which sprang into life around them was night dark. They were within a small hut, where an old man was kneeling on a prayer mat.
He glanced up as they arrived. Talaban was shocked at his appearance. He was incredibly frail and his hands trembled. A blue aura shimmered around him and the spirit of Anu rose.
“I know what you need,” he said.
“Can you help us?” asked Talaban.
“I can, Talaban, but there is a high price to pay.”
“What price?”
Anu’s spirit hand reached out, touching Talaban’s brow. The words Anu then spoke were heard by him alone. “The Music is incredibly powerful, and can be immensely destructive. I learned to control it during a five-hundred-year apprenticeship. I cannot leave here and create a second spell. I do not have the strength. You do and you can. I can implant the knowledge in you, and you can cast the Music into the Serpent. But the price will be your life. I cannot teach you in hours what took me five centuries. And so the Music will eat away at you like a cancer. Your life span will be measured in days. You understand?”
“I do.”
“Are you willing to die, Talaban?”
The warrior thought of the woman in pain on the Serpent, and of the terrible perils facing his people. “I am,” he said, simply.
“Then let it be so.”
Heat flowed from Anu’s spirit fingers, seeping into Talaban’s mind. It was as if all the random, brilliant colors of the universe were exploding within his skull. He reeled back. Images flowered in his brain, then the Music began, a majestic symphony that flowed backward, millions of strands joining together, becoming ever more simple, until, in the end, he could hear only twelve notes, then five, then three and finally one. Anu spoke again. “When you return to the ship, find a flute. Almost every sailor will have one. Take it to the Heart Room. And let the Music flow over the chest. You will see the crystals brighten, as if flames had burst into life within them. Then the Dance will begin.”
“How swiftly can we make the crossing?” asked Talaban.
“Two days.”
“And how long will I live after that?”
Anu was silent for a moment. “Perhaps a week.”
“I thank you, Holy One.”
“We will meet again, Talaban. On the journey beyond life.”
He removed his hand. The world twisted, rainbows blazing in Talaban’s mind. He awoke with a start. Touchstone drew back from him. Questor Ro moved alongside. “Did you find Anu? Did you bring him back?”
“We found him,” said Talaban, pushing himself to his feet. “Now I must find a flute,” he said. Slowly he walked across the cabin, opened the door, and left.
Ro swung towards Touchstone. “What happened?”
“Not know all. Holy One only spoke him.”
“So when will we reach the coast?”
“Two days,” said Touchstone.
“Yes!” shouted Ro, punching the air. Then he looked at Touchstone, and saw that the tribesman did not share his enthusiasm. “What is wrong?” asked Ro, speaking now in Anajo. “Is there something else?”
Touchstone shrugged. “I do not know, but my heart is heavy, my soul burdened.”
Sofarita lay on the floor of her cabin, her knees drawn up, her arms hugging her body. She was trembling uncontrollably, her frame racked by a series of cramps that caused her to jerk spasmodically.
Never in her short life had she suffered such pain or felt such a terrible hunger. It was as if she stood starving at the center of a feast, fine food all around her, exquisite delicacies to melt with flavor upon the tongue. Sofarita groaned.
Another cramp struck her belly and she cried out. She felt suddenly cold and began to shiver. Struggling to her knees she crawled to the bed. The blankets were thick but they offered her no respite. Through her pain she recalled the attack by Almeia and how Ro had warmed her with his body.
This was different. Now she was under attack from her own starving system.
Ro had warned her of the dangers of such a journey, separated from the city’s crystals, but she had not imagined the symptoms would be so severe. Her mind screamed at her to take just a little energy from the ship’s chest. Just a tiny morsel …
She resisted the temptation, knowing that if she allowed herself to follow her desires she would drain the ship in an instant.
When the pain first started she had attempted to flee it by allowing her spirit to soar free. But she could not. The cramps cut through her concentration, trapping her within this hurting cage of flesh and bone.
Talaban had come to her cabin twice that day but she had refused to open the door. Even through the wood she could feel the sweet pulsing of his life force. Her flaring
hunger terrified her.
She found herself thinking about members of the crew and how some of them were unpleasant or dishonest. As she had come aboard she had felt their thoughts. Base men, cruel to their families. No one would miss them, she thought.
No! Their lives are their own. I have no right!
You have every right. You are a goddess! You are needed. They are not. If their lives are lost so that the Crystal Queen can be destroyed, then they will have served a greater purpose.
The argument was compelling.
Sitting up she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and began to plan how to reach the worst of the men. Another cramp struck her, this time with needles of fire that made her arch her back and cry out.
She was hot now, burning with fever. Throwing back the blanket she moved to the water jug and filled a goblet, draining it swiftly.
The door opened and Questor Ro stepped inside. “Go away,” she said. “I have … work to do.”
“What work, Sofarita?”
“Go away, I said!” Her hand shot up. Ro was lifted from his feet and slammed back into the cabin wall. He slid to the floor. Grabbing the door frame he hauled himself upright.
“I know you are suffering,” he said. “But it will soon be over. Anu has shown Talaban how to speed the Dance of Time. We will cross the ocean in only two days.”
“I need … to feed!” Walking past him she pictured the faces of the men she would destroy.
“Like Almeia needs to feed,” said Ro. “Perhaps we should bring a child to you and bury it for you, alive and screaming.”
Sofarita paused in the doorway. “Do not make me angry, Ro.”
“Even if you drain Almeia and end her evil, it will be as nothing if you become like her,” he said. “You are better than that, Sofarita. Stronger. But if you need a life, take mine. It is yours. I offer it freely.”
She swung toward him. “Why? Why would you offer this?”
“To prevent you from murder.”
She looked at him then and, for a moment, the pain eased.
“Evil is like a poison,” he said. “That is why we cannot use it. To defeat evil with its own weapons, only replaces one evil with another. I believe the Source has blessed you with power. It must not be stained or sullied.”