David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

Questor Ro was not asleep. The day had been a long one, supervising the training of new recruits at the three barracks. The task was not easy. Thousands of Vagars wanted to enlist and each one needed to be physically examined and questioned at length. In turn this led to massive lines of men, snaking out around the buildings, blocking thoroughfares. Ro had been summoned to create order from the chaos. At the first of the barracks he had found Rael and Mejana in heated debate. She wanted to know why fit young men could not merely sign their name and be assigned to a unit. Rael was struggling to explain the military ramifications of such a move. Neither was making an impression on the other.

Ro stepped in. 'If I may speak,' he said. Mejana was struggling to hold her temper. Rael also was ashen-faced.

Both nodded. 'Let me first sum up both points of view. The Questor General is concerned that our new army be disciplined and effective. You, lady, are worried about the need for such rigorous examination, fearing it may be some part of a secret Avatar plan to retain control of the army.'

'Exactly,' said Mejana.

'I am not, as Rael knows, a military man,' said Ro. 'But I do know certain principles that should always apply.

Our army is small but it has, over the years, proved effective. Lines of communication are well drawn, officers and men know one another well. Orders, when given, are carried out with speed and efficiency. A huge influx of untrained recruits could prove chaotic. It is, I understand, the Questor General's plan to add one thousand new soldiers. This would almost double our force.'

'We could put twenty thousand men on the field of battle,' said Mejana. 'We would outnumber the Almecs five to one.'

'And watch them all slaughtered!' snapped Rael.

'With respect, lady,' said Ro, soothingly, 'and I do mean with respect, for I believe you to be a formidable woman, you are out of your depth in this matter. What I said about lines of communication is not just important, but utterly vital. In any battle a general must be able to formulate changes in strategy, give orders and see them carried out swiftly. What you are suggesting is that we face the Almecs with an undisciplined mob. We Avatars have fought such armies before. We always won. At the first attack hundreds of them are killed. The rest become demoralized. Some decide to run for safety. This causes confusion and, more often than not, panic. We do not have time to train a huge force. However, I think I know a compromise.'

'It needs to be a good one,' said Rael. 'There should be two forces,' said Ro. 'The first will be the army and we will continue our examinations as before, seeking only one thousand of the fittest, most able men. The second will be a militia force under appointed commanders in every district. These will be men who will defend the walls when called upon or who will fight on the streets if the walls are breached. Each district commander will appoint sub-commanders and they will organize distribution of weapons. How does that sound?'

'A recipe for disaster,' said Rael.

'I like it,' said Mejana. 'My people will feel, perhaps for the first time, that their destiny is in their own hands.'

Then we are done here,' said Rael. 'Excuse me.' He stalked from the room. Mejana turned to Ro.

'Will you assist me in organizing the militia?' she asked him.

'Of course, lady.' Ro was silent for a moment, then he looked into Mejana's eyes. 'He is a fine soldier. We could have found none better to oversee the defence of the cities.'

'But?' she said.

'But he has nothing to fight for. If he wins, he loses. You understand?'

'The day of the Avatar is over,' she said. 'I would do nothing to change that, even if I could.'

'I understand that,' Ro told her. That is not the point I am making. No matter what is done with the militia, or new Vagars drawn into the army, the fighting spearhead of the war will be the Avatar soldiers, with their zhi-bows. Men fight best who fight for causes. As matters now stand, why should Rael not gather the few hundred Avatars left, take control of the Serpent, and sail to a far land to rebuild?'

Mejana considered the question, and its ramifications. If such an event were to take place Egaru and Pagaru would certainly fall to the Almecs.

'I have nothing to offer them,' said Mejana, at last.

'You could make it clear that there will be no retribution against my people should the war be won.'

'Such an offer would be a lie,' she admitted. 'Hatred of the Avatar is so deeply ingrained that it would manifest itself very swiftly.'

'I know,' said Ro, sadly. 'And so does Rael.'

'What then can I do?'

Ro did not reply. He had sown the seed and could do no more.

The day had been exhausting, but by dusk the beginnings of organization could be seen. Twenty district commanders had been appointed and ten further training areas identified. The long lines of recruits had thinned and a sense of order was beginning to prevail.

An hour before midnight Ro had returned to his home, dismissed his servants, and requested that Sempes wait for the arrival of the Lady Sofarita. Ro himself had taken a long bath and retired to his bed.

Sleep would not come. His mind was in a whir. He thought of his lost wife and children, his years of work and study, his meeting with Sofarita, and the emotions that meeting had unleashed — emotions that would never be fulfilled. At first he had entertained hopes for the deepening of their relationship, but then he had seen how she looked at Talaban. How could he hope to compete with him? Talaban was tall and handsome. Such physical considerations should have had little to do with genuine love. But the reality was far different, Ro knew.

He climbed from his bed and filled a goblet with cool water. His door was open, and he felt a chill breeze.

His gaze flicked to the open window. No draught was coming from there and the curtains were not moving.

Walking to the door he stepped into the hallway. Immediately he began to tremble with cold.

This was ridiculous! Running back into his room he threw a woollen cloak around his shoulders and returned to the hall. It was dark, and yet he could see a faint blue light coming from Sofarita's room. Was she working some magic? Would he disturb her if he ventured in? He shivered. Then walked along the hallway. The door was open. Thick ice had formed on the walls and swirling snow filled the room. Ro stepped inside.

Sofarita was lying in bed, snow and ice covering her face.

Ro ran to her side. As he did so he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. Swinging round he saw — just for a moment — the transparent figure of a young woman, white-haired and ghostly, with eyes of cold green. Then she was gone. Dragging back the covers Ro pushed his arms under Sofarita's limp body and, with a grunt of effort, lifted her clear of the frozen bed. Staggering out into the hallway he carried her to his own room. Her skin was icy cold, her lips blue. There was no time to light a fire. Ro laid her on the bed and tore off her frozen clothes. Covering her with a blanket he threw off his cloak and night-shirt and slipped in beside her, drawing her to him, allowing the warmth of his body to raise her temperature. Gently he rubbed at the cold flesh of her arms.

For a time he felt sure he would fail and that she would die in his arms. But then a soft moan escaped from her lips. Ro hugged her close, feeling the warmth seeping back into her body.

Sofarita's eyelids flickered. 'She… tried to… kill me,' she whispered.

'You are safe now,' Ro told her. 'Safe with me.' She gave a weak smile and snuggled in closer. Then she slept.

Ro drew the blanket over her shoulder. She was warmer now, and he could feel the heat beginning to radiate from her flesh. Ro became acutely aware of her thigh pressed close to his own. He lay back and closed his eyes.