David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

'Why you need come to ice?' asked Touchstone. 'If sun gives energy why not leave boxes in sunlight?'

'It is not quite that simple. Your axe is made of iron, fastened to a wooden haft. At some time in the past the wood was merely timber, the iron a lump of metal. Then an armourer was given the wood and the iron, and he fashioned them into an axe. In the same way the sunlight was — in effect — refashioned by the White Pyramid into something we could store in the chests. The pyramid radiated that power to all corners of the empire, so that wherever there were Avatar cities their chests could be replenished.'

'How long this new power last?' asked Touchstone.

'If the chest remains in the ship, five years at the very least,' said Talaban.

'Maybe you become gods again,' said Touchstone.

'Maybe we will,' agreed Talaban. 'But I hope not.'

On the morning of the third day a blizzard raged over the bay. Four chests had been recharged, but the process was becoming ever more slow — a phenomenon Questor Ro did not wish to examine. He feared he already knew the answer. One of his teams was still on the ice, seeking to recharge the fifth chest. Swirling snow and icy winds made their work increasingly difficult. Talaban, his zhi-bow recharged, stood with them.

Touchstone moved alongside him.

'Air is bad,' he shouted above the howling wind. 'Must leave here. Now!'

'It is cold,' Talaban agreed.

'Not cold. Bad. Death is coming.' Talaban knew the tribesman's uncanny talents were rarely wrong. Ducking his head against the wind, he struggled across to where Questor Ro was kneeling by a flickering pyramid. 'Back to the ship!' shouted Talaban. Questor Ro glanced up. He wanted to argue, but he knew Talaban was right. The weather was making Communion almost impossible to maintain. He nodded and began to unloop the gold wire from around the pyramid's base. Touchstone loosened his fur-lined robe and drew his axe from his belt, his green eyes squinting as he tried to see through the swirling snow.

A Vagar, working some 20 paces away, suddenly screamed and staggered to his left. Blood was pumping from a huge wound where his left arm had been. He lurched to his right, and then it seemed to Touchstone that the snow reared up and covered him. Touchstone hefted his axe and began to back away towards Talaban.

A huge form reared up at Touchstone. It was white, with long arms and a grey face. Touchstone saw sharp fangs in its maw, and terrible talons on the ends of its fingers. The tribesman threw himself to his left, hitting the snow with his shoulder and rolling to his feet. The beast was fast and bore down upon him again. A bolt of light struck it in the white fur of its chest. There was a flash and a huge hole opened in the beast, spraying blood and bone to the snow. More krals came running through the blizzard. Touchstone spun and sprinted back to where Talaban was standing calmly sending bolt after bolt into the beasts.

The panicking Vagars were running in all directions. Questor Ro drew his golden sceptre and stepped up alongside Talaban. Touchstone glanced at him. The little man showed no fear. Touchstone's respect for him rose a little.

Three of the beasts charged forward. Talaban shot the first, the bolt hurling the creature back through the air.

The second was almost upon him but Touchstone threw himself at it, ducking under the sweep of a taloned arm and hammering his axe into the beast's face. The blade sank deep. The kral staggered, then sent a crushing blow to the tribesman's side. His axe wrenched from his hand, Touchstone flew through the air, landing heavily.

Talaban shot the creature just as the third beast reared over him, but Questor Ro thrust forward his sceptre, straight into its belly. Blue flame blossomed around the kral and its huge grey head exploded, fire bursting up from its shaggy neck.

Down by the waterside four of the creatures were slashing their talons into the bodies of dead Vagars.

Talaban shot the first two. The others hooked their talons into two corpses, dragging them into the sea before disappearing below the water.

Touchstone struggled to his feet. His shirt was blood-drenched and he felt dizzy and faint. Stumbling to Talaban and Questor Ro he dragged his axe from the head of the dead kral.

The ground moved beneath his feet and he almost fell. At first he thought it was merely dizziness that had thrown him, but then he saw that Questor Ro had also stumbled.

'Get… to ship… or all die,' he told Talaban. 'Pillar of fire coming. Kill all.'

Talaban helped him down to the water's edge. Only five Vagars remained alive. Talaban ordered them into the longboat, then helped Touchstone over the side. 'Got to be fast,' said Touchstone.

Talaban tossed his zhi-bow into the boat then glanced back to where Questor Ro was still trying to dismantle the wire from the pyramids. He ran back to the little man. There is no time, Questor,' he shouted. Ro ignored him. The ground heaved beneath them, throwing Talaban to the ice. Rising he moved behind Questor Ro, grabbing the man by his fur cloak and dragging him back. Instinctively Ro brought up his sceptre. Talaban blocked it with his left arm then slammed a right cross to the man's chin. Ro slumped to the ice. Talaban hauled him up, throwing him over his shoulder. Then he gathered the sceptre and made his way to the boat.

It glided across the bay. Still panic-stricken, the Vagars scrambled up the rope ladder ahead of Talaban.

Touchstone followed, moving slowly and painfully. Talaban tied ropes fore and aft then, carrying Questor Ro, hauled himself up over the central deck. Dumping the little man on the floor he ordered the waiting sailors to weigh anchor and climbed to the upper deck and the control cabin.

Placing his hand on the triangular gold plate set into the dark wood he twisted it to the left. Below the plate were seven symbols. A dull rumbling sounded from the glacier. Talaban did not look back at it. He lightly pressed the five symbols that controlled the lock and the door opened. Without pausing to close the door Talaban moved to a long black cabinet against the far wall. This too had a golden triangle, and Talaban opened it, his fingers flicking swiftly over the symbols within. The door opened. Inside was a long shelf covered by a glittering sheet of mica, with seven indentations. A velvet bag had been laid upon it. Talaban opened the bag, tipping the seven crystals within it to the mica.

A huge explosion came from the ice. Talaban glanced up. A colossal pillar of fire had erupted from the glacier, hurling massive chunks of ice into the air. Calmly he picked up a crystal and placed it in the third indentation on the mica. Instantly a faint blue light flowed around the ship. A boulder-sized lump of ice hurtled towards the deck, struck the blue light and bounced away. Talaban added two more crystals, replaced the others in the bag, then closed the lid. Red lava erupted from below the ice and the air became thick with steam. Molten rock struck the blue light and rolled down into the sea, like wine poured over the outside of a glass goblet.

Talaban moved back to a large bronze wheel and spun it.

The Serpent glided through the lava storm untouched, as ice and fire rained down upon the sea around it.

Questor Ro stood on the small port deck of his cabin watching the fire raging upon the distant glaciers. His jaw ached from where Talaban had struck him, but this was not the time to think of revenge. That could come later. All he could think of now were the six silver pyramids filled with precious gems, and the gold rods that drew on the power. Ro had paid for these himself, and they had cost him almost half his not inconsiderable fortune.

Also there was the loss of the fifth chest. No-one in the new empire could fashion them now, for the source of the special mica, found far across the western ocean, was closed to them.