David Gemmell - Echoes of the Great Song

Now he watched as the Avatars thundered on. Half their force down, their leader dead, the riders were hurtling towards the hidden trip wires and spiked trenches prepared by his men under cover of darkness. It would be an ignoble end to such a valiant effort, but Cas-Coatl could not allow the destruction of his powder supplies.

Without powder the mortar tubes and guns of his men would be useless.

The huge emerald on his belt began to vibrate. Touching his hand to it he heard the voice of Almeia. 'Your men have almost broken through the mist. Go and join them. Take Anu alive. What he has done, he can undo.

He knows the Music.'

Cas-Coatl transferred his gaze to the battlefield. The front lines were under heavy attack from the Vagars and city dwellers, the Avatars were still riding hard, and inflicting murderous losses on his troops. 'We could still lose here, my lady,' he said.

'We are lost anyway if Anu completes his pyramid. The woman Sofarita is drawing on my power. Our defences are weak. Anu must be taken. Go now!'

Cas-Coatl turned to his aide. 'Maintain our position here, and when the Avatars are all dead lead a counterattack from the left flank. The city should be ours by nightfall.' The man saluted and Cas-Coatl threw one last glance at the charging Avatars, then made his way down the slope to where the three golden ships were anchored.

As he moved away he realized he was glad to be avoiding the moment the charge ended, as the horses struck the trip wires, their riders hurled into the sharpened spikes dug into the hillside.

When Rael fell Viruk took up the point. Intoxicated by battle fury he was in ecstasy. Niclin rode to his left, the surviving thirty Avatars closing up in formation behind. As he rode, bolts flashing from his zhi-bow, Viruk saw the concentrated mass of bronze fire tubes to his left. Forgetting the mission he angled his mount towards them. The Avatars followed him. 'The supplies!' shouted Niclin. 'We must get to the supplies!'

Viruk ignored him — and in doing so unwittingly turned the charge away from the hidden wires and trenches.

Almecs were scattering before them now and Viruk took aim at a barrel resting near the base of the closest fire tube some 60 yards ahead. The zhi-bolt flashed into it. The barrel exploded in a rush of flame and smoke, igniting two others close by. The resulting blast lifted the bronze weapon high into the air. It landed on a second tube, tearing it from its base. The Almecs around the weapons fled as the Avatars bore down upon them. There were more than 50 fire tubes clustered together. Viruk and his riders sent a volley of bolts into the barrels around them.

A series of blasts followed. Smoke and fire belched up towards the skies and a thick grey fog seeped out across the battlefield.

Niclin rode in close to Viruk. 'The supplies, you fool!' he shouted. 'We must destroy the black dust!' Kicking his horse into a run Viruk swerved towards the hills once more. A company of Almec soldiers ran into position.

Their fire-clubs boomed and a dozen Avatars went down.

Viruk urged his tired horse up the hill, Niclin and the sixteen survivors behind him.

Once over the crest he saw the enemy base camp, their supplies covered by sheets of canvas.

Spread out in a half-circle, protecting the camp, were a hundred krals.

Viruk did not hesitate. Spurring his mount he galloped down the hill.

On open ground now the Avatars spread out. Behind them Almec soldiers had run to the crest and were shooting down the slope. Five horses were hit in the first volley, the riders pitched from the saddles. Seven went down in the next. The six remaining riders bore down on the krals.

The huge beasts ran at the Avatars. 'Flanking run, left and right!' bellowed Viruk. Niclin dragged his horse to the right. A single Avatar followed him. Three more riders broke to the left. The krals split into two groups to cut them off.

Viruk charged at the gap opening in the centre.

Three krals lumbered back to block the opening. Viruk shot two and leapt his horse at the third. The kral's talons flashed out, tearing open the gelding's throat. The horse fell. Viruk rolled clear — and sent a bolt into the face of the kral.

More of the beasts were moving towards him now. Spinning on his heel he began to run for the camp some 300 yards distant.

More than a dozen soldiers moved from hiding places at the camp's perimeter. Viruk hurled himself to his right as shots rang out. He was not quite fast enough and a lead ball tore into his thigh.

Rolling onto his back he saw the krals were almost upon him. Surging to his feet he shot three of them. Then he heard hoof beats. Swinging to his right he saw Niclin galloping towards him.

Another volley of shots boomed. Niclin was smashed back, his body toppling from the saddle. Viruk ran to intercept the panicked horse, grabbing the pommel of the saddle as the gelding ran by. Viruk vaulted to the saddle and ran the horse at the Almec soldiers. Most were struggling to reload. Two fired their weapons. One shot missed, but the second took Viruk high in the chest.

The horse galloped into the camp. Viruk steered it past the supplies and on to the river wall. Here he dismounted and scrambled up to the steep slope. The krals were close behind. Dropping to his knees Viruk waited calmly for the beasts to reach the foot of the slope. He had known, as had all the Avatars, that he would die today, and he found himself thinking of his garden. He smiled as he pictured the surprise on Kale's face when he discovered that Viruk's house, grounds and wealth had all been willed to him.

He hoped he would make a home there for the little potter.

Then he took aim. And sent a bolt of lightning into the hundreds of barrels clustered below.

The explosion was colossal and a gigantic pillar of fire blasted into the sky. Viruk was lifted from the top of the river wall, his body hurled high into the sky.

Such was the noise that for a moment all fighting on the battlefield ceased, as men looked up at the billowing smoke, swirling higher and higher. The disciplined Almecs reacted better, shaking off their shock and sending a volley into the massed stunned ranks of the Vagars.

Once more the Vagars hurled themselves at the Almec line. At the centre Pendar urged his soldiers forward.

He was bleeding from a cut on the brow, but he felt no pain. The few lessons Talaban had given him in the art of sword play had kept him alive, and he had already killed two Almecs. His soldiers swept around him, giving him a short breathing space. He glanced left and right. The Vagars outnumbered the Almecs by at least three to one, but they were mostly untrained and the defensive line was holding.

Even though he was unversed in the ways of battle Pendar was still an intelligent man. He could sense the battle shifting. Vagar losses were rising and it would not be long before the fighting citizens were driven back.

Even as the thought occurred to him he saw a regiment of Almecs moving out in a flanking manoeuvre.

Once they had formed a battle line they would be able to send volley after volley into the unprotected right flank of his force.

Then he heard a series of trumpet blasts from the east.