David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

'Your arthritis is gone,' he said. 'I have given you a taste of what is to come.'

Rzak stretched out his arms. It was true. There was no pain, no stiffness.

'I told you I had many powerful friends,' said Judon smugly.

Rzak Xhen seemed to ponder this. Then he spoke. 'Why would an Avatar wish to see the fall of his own cities?' he asked.

T am not an Avatar,' said the young man, calmly.

'And yet you have mastered their magic?'

'I have. And it is not magic.'

Rzak leaned forward and picked up the king's empty goblet, then he drained his own. In one sudden move he tossed both goblets towards the young man. Instinctively his hands swept out and he caught both goblets cleanly.

'You are an Avatar,' said Rzak Xhen. 'Why deny it?'

'You are wrong. My father was an Avatar. My mother was Vagar. They tried to run away together. But they were caught. My mother was returned to her home that day as an old woman, bent and crippled. My father was crystal-drawn — murdered.'

'Not an unusual tale,' said Rzak. 'Save that you survived. I thought all offspring of such unions were despatched.'

'My brother was… as you say… despatched. But we were twins. My mother told me that I had a fever the day before the soldiers came. I was in the house of a medicine woman. When the soldiers took her they took mv brother with them. I survived. My mother raised me

for four years — then old age and decrepitude took her. She was twenty-one.'

'And because of three deaths you are willing to sacrifice five cities?'

'Yes,' said the young man. 'To see an end to tyranny.'

Rzak masked the smile he felt. How short-sighted were the young. Did this hate-filled Vagar truly believe that by helping Judon to absolute power he would see an end to tyranny? What did it matter whose boot was upon your neck, Avatar or Patiakes? It was still a boot. 'Show me the magic gem,' he said, holding out his hand.

The young man dropped it into his outstretched palm. Curling his hand into a fist he felt the sharpness of the crystal against his skin. But nothing else. 'Where is the magic?' he asked.

'In here,' said the young man, tapping his own temple. 'Such crystals can be purchased in any marketplace.

Once fed with power only those with Avatar blood can use them.'

Judon struggled to his feet. From behind the cushions he lifted a silver mirror, which he tossed to Rzak. Rzak looked at his reflection. There were dark streaks in his beard. He chuckled. 'Take another ten years away and you shall have my five thousand,' he said.

Viruk sat by the roadside and examined the petals of a small white flower edged with blue. He didn't recognize it, but found its beauty exquisite. There were clusters of the plant on both sides of the road, and a heady scent filled the air. The grey horse tethered by the trees let out a whinny and stamped his foot. Viruk rose and stretched, then strolled across to the stallion. 'Impatience is not to be encouraged,' he said. 'Not in men or horses. I don't much like sitting here either, but this is the road back to Patiakes land and some time or other the fat king will travel along it. Now let us have no more shows of petulance, or I shall prick out one of your eyes and tell the General you caught it on a thorn.'

The horse tilted its head and stared at the smiling man. Then, stretching its neck, it nuzzled against his chest.

'Stupid beast,' said Viruk, reaching up and scratching its ears. 'Is it possible that you like a man who threatens to mutilate you? I thought animals had a sixth sense for danger.' The stallion's ears came up and he swung away, looking back towards the east. Viruk untied the tether and stepped into the saddle. 'There now, the wait is nearly over,' he said. 'Then we can ride back and enjoy a fine rest.'

Touching his heels to the white flanks he rode out through the flowers and sat waiting in the centre of the road.

The chariot appeared over the crest of a hill, two riders flanking it, a third bringing up the rear. The fat king was sitting on a velvet-covered seat, his driver urging the two black horses on. They were breathing heavily. 'See how lucky you are,' Viruk told the stallion. 'But for an accident of birth you too might have been pulling that mammoth around the desert. There's a fine prospect, eh?'

The horse nicked its ears back as the man spoke, but made no other movement. 'I like you,' said Viruk.

'You're not much of a conversationalist, but you are a fine listener.'

The two riders galloped their horses forward, dragging them to a stop just in front of Viruk. The Avatar lifted his leg over the pommel of his saddle and leaned his elbow on his knee. 'Good afternoon, peasants,' he said.

The lead rider, a wide-shouldered swordsman wearing a burnished helm of bronze, reddened, and laid his hand on his sword hilt. Viruk smiled at him, a bright engaging smile.

'Much as I would like to shed some of your neanderthal blood I have been told to ensure there are witnesses to my conversation with your king. So you would be best advised to leave that pig-sticker in its scabbard.'

'What do you want here, Avatar?' said the man, his voice deep, his eyes angry.

'From you, turd-breath? Nothing at all. I need to speak to the waddling pig you serve.'

The bronze sword hissed from its sheath as the rider spurred his horse forward. Viruk's arm lifted, then snapped forward. A small throwing knife flashed through the air, slamming into the rider's throat and pitching him from the saddle. He hit the ground hard, struggled to rise, then slumped back. Viruk glanced at the second rider and smiled. 'I don't know what the world is coming to,' he said, his voice light and tinged with regret. 'You try to be pleasant. You make it as clear as rainwater what your intentions are. And what do you find? Violence and unpleasantness. I do hope we do not find ourselves in a similar misunderstanding.' The man glanced nervously back towards the chariot, awaiting orders. Judon of the Patiakes heaved himself to his feet. 'How dare you accost me in this manner?' he bellowed.

Viruk steered the stallion forward until he was alongside the king. 'The Questor General bade me come to you and convince you of the error of your ways. War is such an unpleasant business. You sub-humans dress up in your battle finery and we Avatars shoot you down like dogs. There is no sport in it. You understand? It is all so boring.'

'I have no intention of declaring war,' said Judon. 'There has been a grave misunderstanding. The Avatars are my friends.'

Viruk raised his hand, his expression one of mild distaste. 'Please do not use the word friends. It suggests an equality that does not exist. You are servants. Your ingratitude is baffling.' He shook his head. 'What were you before we came among you? Little more than animals, grubbing around in the Luan mud. We taught you to build, to irrigate your lands. To store your surplus. We have given you laws. We have raised you like children and you repay us with petty wars and raids. It really is galling.'

'As I said, there is no war,' Judon told him. 'What is your name?'

'I am Viruk.'

'Well, Viruk, rest assured I shall be reporting this incident to the Questor General. I am not accustomed to watching my men murdered.'

'Oh, I shall report it myself upon my return. The only question is, what course of action to take.'

'Action?' queried Judon.

'You see, here is my problem: the Questor General says you are planning a war. You say you are not. Do I ride back to him and tell him he has made a mistake? I think not. Difficult, isn't it?'

'All men make mistakes,' said Judon, forcing a smile. 'I'm sure the General understands that. You can assure him of my goodwill towards your people.'

Viruk was about to reply when he saw the king's glance flick to his left. Instinctively Viruk swayed in the saddle. The knife hurled by the rider behind him sliced the air and flew on to clatter to the ground. 'Now that wasn't friendly,' said Viruk, drawing his sword. The third rider drew his own blade and heeled his horse forward.