David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

'You rule the Almecs. You are the Crystal Queen.'

'That is what they call me.'

'What do you want from me?'

'I want for nothing, child. I am eternal and complete. I had also thought myself unique. Imagine my surprise when I sensed you above my home, my resting place, my tomb. How does it feel, Sofarita, to possess such power, to roam the skies, and read the hearts of men?'

'Frightening,' said Sofarita.

'Frightening? Yes, I remember that feeling. But it passes. Everything passes. Except knowledge. It grows and it grows. Of course there is a price to pay — as you will see. Some might call it a terrible price. I used to think so.'

'What price?'

'Once I was like you, a creature of soft flesh and transient desires. And I recall how fine that felt, the grass beneath the feet, the scent of summer blooms in the air, the taste of wine upon the tongue. Most of all the feel of a man's warm body pressing upon the skin. All these things are lost to me now. As they will soon be lost to you.'

'What are you saying?' asked Sofarita, the beginnings of an awful fear rising in her belly.

'/ think you already sense the answer, Sofarita. There are certain humans who should never be touched by the healing crystals. Some — perhaps lucky, perhaps unlucky — become crystal-wed. They swiftly turn to glass, and they shatter and die. More rare are those who become crystal-joined. All the powers of the crystals are unleashed in them. And why? Because they are destined to become the ultimate crystal. Oh yes it is slow. And yes it is infinitely painful. First you notice — as you have already — a sheen to the skin, brows and cheekbones, knuckles and chin. That is only the beginning. Within a year you will scarce be able to move. Within two you will be paralysed, locked like a statue. Within five your body will no longer be discernible. It will twist and change.

Slowly, so slowly. By the twentieth year there will be little hint of humanity. After fifty years you will be merely a block of beautiful crystal. Within it you will survive for a little longer. Another hundred years perhaps. Unless fed, of course. Unless life washes over you in the richness of blood. As long as this is done you will remain, powerful and eternal. Is this what you desire?'

'No. I will not allow it. I will die first.'

Sofarita's mind was filled with pealing laughter, a sound metallic and artificial.'/ do believe I said the same thing,' Almeia told her. 'But I can help you, my dear.'

'Why would you do this?'

'Is the answer not obvious? What would be the advantage of having two crystal queens? Would you like my help?'

'You are evil,' said Sofarita. This I know. And evil is not to be trusted.'

'Such silly words are for smaller minds, Sofarita. Is the sun evil? Or the sea? Each kills, each gives life. That does not make them evil. Everything I do is for self-preservation. All creatures of flesh and blood understand this. I kill to live. As do you. Each mouthful of meat you devour comes from a living creature who would not have chosen to die for you. Are you evil, Sofarita?'

'I do not have children buried alive to feed me, nor do I tear the hearts from prisoners taken in war.'

'Ah, we are talking merely of scale, then. One lamb is food, ten lambs is a feast, a thousand lambs is gluttony.

What then creates evil, the deaths of a million lambs? And what is the difference between a man and a lamb?

Everything dies. Most men die uselessly. Those whose lives feed mine at least serve a purpose. In return I give my people prosperity, freedom from want and disease. My trusted councillors also gain eternal lives. They might argue that everything I do is for the general good.

'However, let us talk about what would be good for you. I can take away your powers, draw them into myself.

It will not harm me. And you would become a farm girl again, soft of flesh.'

Sofarita's spirit eyes looked deep into Almeia's green crystal orbs. 'How would you do this?' she asked.

'All you need to do is relax. You will be free to live your life as you choose.''

She lies, came another voice. She means for you to die!

Sofarita lay back in the chair, her mind sleepy, her limbs relaxed.

She is already doing it! Push her out, woman. Your life is at risk!

Sofarita blinked and tried to sit up. She felt weak and nauseous. The floating face before her was all eyes now, huge, and green and luminous. Anger flared within her, roaring up like a tidal wave. The image of Almeia flickered — and was gone.

Sofarita shivered. You must beware, said the voice. She will attack again. You are her mortal enemy. She will not rest until you are slain.

'Who are you?'

Another face flickered into her mind. A middle-aged man with leathery skin and deep-set dark eyes. He wore a beaded headband over his black and grey braided hair. Two eagle's feathers were embedded in the band.

'lam the One-Eyed-Fox,' he said, 'shaman to the Anajo, the First People. I tried to reach you when you flew over my village.'

'I remember. Did you hear all that she said to me?'

'Most of her words.'

'Was it true? Am I doomed to become like her, a block of crystal?'

When he spoke there was sadness in his voice. 7 am not strong enough to fight her, only to hide from her. Yet I sense the truth in those words. What she spoke of did indeed happen to her hundreds of years ago. I have walked the Grey Road and have seen this. Once she was gentle and caring, and used her power to heal. Now she demands thousands of sacrifices. Her need for blood and death is insatiable.'

'Then I shall destroy her before I die.'

'Someone must destroy her before we all die,' he said. 'Where is Talaban?'

'I do not know the name. Is he an Avatar?'

'He is the captain of the black ship. He will know where the last battle must be fought.'

'And where is that?' asked Sofarita.

'I do not know yet. But Talaban will when the time comes. He and Touch-the-Moon will stand upon the mountain, like lanterns against the dark.'

His voice faded away — and Sofarita was alone.

Alone and dying! There had been so many small plans in her young life. To find love and to raise a family.

To build a home in the mountains, near a waterfall, and to have a flower garden. Tiny dreams that had comforted her in the first year of widowhood. She had, after a fashion, loved her husband. Veris was a good man, but twenty years older than Sofarita. Her father had made the match because Veris owned land abutting his. The bridal price was two meadows. Sofarita had made no objection. She had known Veris all her life. He was a kind man, given to laughter. His lovemaking had been gentle and Sofarita knew she could be content with this man.

On the last morning of his life, eleven weeks after the wedding, he had kissed her cheek and left for the fields.

As he reached the doorway he paused, then turned back and hugged her.

'You have made me happy for the first time in my life,' he said.

They were the last words he ever spoke to her.

A month after he died she developed a chill, which deepened into a painful hacking cough. The weight dropped from her and her strength was failing. She was, at that time, almost resigned to death.

Not so now.

The Avatar's magic stone had rekindled all her hopes and dreams, and it felt so cruel to have them dashed in this terrible way. Village life was generally too pragmatic for the subtleties of irony. But she understood it now.

Possessed of remarkable powers, and an ability to heal any wound or disease, she could not save her own life.