Echoes of the Great Song Read Online Free PDF Page A

one bolt remained. He touched a white gem above the red and the strings of light disappeared. Setting the weapon down he considered the problem. He could take the bow to the Serpent's chest and recharge it, but there was little power left there, and if he drained it none of them would survive the voyage back to the city. The .Avatar Serpents were never seaworthy vessels in their own right. Only the power of the chests kept them afloat.
    Dismissing the idea, Talaban removed his clothes and moved to the bedroom. Lying on his bed he could see the stars flickering through the curved window.
    He had been far to the north-west when the Great Bear's paw had lashed the ocean, sending a tidal wave three miles high across the continent of the Avatars. But even 2,000 miles away, on the outer edges of the empire, the earthquakes had toppled buildings, and a terrible hurricane had swept across the land, ripping away homes, killing hundreds of thousands.
    Many had thought it to be the end of the world. For much of the earth's population it was exactly that.
    The five settlements on the Luan River had escaped with only minor damage, and loss of life that ran into hundreds. Talaban had sailed the Serpent across to the west, seeking sign of other colonies. But he found nothing. With the Serpent running short of energy he had returned to the twin cities of Pagaru and Egaru.
    A mere 500 Avatars had survived the fall of the world -and only this many because the former Questor Anu had brought 200 with him from Parapolis.
    Thinking of Anu brought back memories of the Vagar mystic. Talaban drifted to sleep with the ragged man's words echoing in his mind.
    He will devour all the works of Man. Then he will sleep for 10,000 years, and the breath of his sleep will be death.

    Touchstone sat on the floor of his cabin, lifted a small brown pouch from around his neck, and held it cupped in both hands. This was his medicine bag, and contained great magic. Through the soft hide of the pouch he could feel the curved fang of the first lion he had killed. It was entwined with a lock of Suryet's dark hair. Beauty and savagery, forever together. There was a tiny sea shell, and a small amount of earth from the belly of the great mountain. The shell allowed him to commune with the spirits of the sea, the earth brought him the scent of home. Lastly there was the feather flight from his first arrow. This reminded him that he was a hunter and a provider for his tribe. All that Touchstone loved was epitomized by the contents of his medicine pouch. His land, and the sea that washed its shore, his woman, his tribe, and his mother, the earth.
    Softly he sang the Song of Far-away, knowing the music of his spirit would touch the dirt within his pouch and would thus reach the mountains of his youth. There the trees would pick up the song, and whisper it through their leaves until it reached the tents of his people.
    Then Suryet would hear it sighing on the wind. She would look up, her deep, dark eyes scanning the blue, seeking sign of him. And she would know he was alive and that one day he would find her again.
    Eyes closed he sang the song with feeling, repeating it twice more, his mind reaching out to Suryet, hoping for a glimpse of her.
    Instead he saw a pillar of fire, surging up through snow and ice. Then it was gone. The vision troubled him, for he could not decipher its message. Ice and fire. It meant little to the Anajo tribesman.
    Looping his medicine bag over his neck he tucked it into his shirt, and stretched out upon the rug. Touchstone did not like beds. Soft pillows made his neck ache.
    He lay upon the floor, arms folded across his chest, and pictured again the wild hills and the hunts, saw once more the glorious day of his marriage, and recalled with ever-increasing fondness the first night with Suryet.
    Two months later the Blue-hairs had landed in the Sacred Cove. Touchstone had been among the war band who fought them. They would have won, but for a