David Gemmell - Dark Prince

Camiron nodded, his head sinking to his chest. Within moments his breathing deepened. Alexander sat quietly watching the creature, feeling his loneliness slowly subside. Once more the haze began around the beast, shimmering, changing, until the human form of Chiron could be seen asleep on the floor beside the horse, Caymal.

Alexander moved to the magus , lightly touching his shoulder. Chiron awoke and yawned.

'You did well, boy,' he said. 'I knew it was a risk leaving you with. . him, but you handled the situation with skill.'

'Who is he?' asked the prince.

'Like all centaurs, he is a blend of horse and man: partly me, partly Caymal. It used to be that I could control him.

Now he grows stronger and I rarely allow him life. But I had to take the risk, for Caymal alone could not have carried us both free of the Makedones.'

'The other centaurs called him an outcast. They hate him.'

'Ah, well, that is a longer story. When first I tried the spell of Merging, I lost control of Camiron and he rode in to their village.' Chiron smiled and shook his head. 'I had not considered the timing of the Change. Caymal was in season, and hot for the company of a young mare. Camiron, full of almost childish enthusiasm, tried to force his attention on several of the village females. The males did not take kindly to such advances and chased him from the forest.'

'I see,' said the boy.

'You do? You are a surprising four-year-old.'

'But tell me why Camiron seeks you. You can never have. . met. should he even know of you?'

'A good question, Alexander. You have a fine mind. Caymal knows me and, after his own fashion, has regard for me.

When the Merge takes place the end result is a creature — Camiron — who is both of us, and yet neither of us. The part — the greater part — that is Caymal longs to be reunited with his master. It was a sad experiment, and one that I will not repeat. And yet Camiron is an interesting beast. Just like a horse, he is both easily frightened and yet capable of great courage.'

Pushing himself to his feet, Chiron led the boy back through the alcove wall into the palace beyond. 'Here we will be safe for a while. But even my powers cannot stand for long against Philippos.'

'Why does he want me, Chiron?'

'He has the powers of a god, yet he is mortal. He desires to live for ever. So far he has sired six children and has sacrificed each of them to Ahriman, the God of Darkness. But he is not yet immortal. I would imagine his priests sought you out, and you are to be the seventh victim. I can see why. You are a brilliant child, Alexander, and I feel the dark power within you. Philippos wishes to feed on that power.'

'He can have it,' said the youngster. 'It is nothing but a curse to me. Tell me, how is it that I can touch you and yet you feel no pain?'

'That is not easy to answer, young prince. The power you possess — or that possesses you — is similar to that which dominates Philippos. Yet they are different. Individual. Your demon — if you will — desires you, but he needs you to live. Therefore he lies dormant when I am close, for* he knows I am your hope for survival.'

'You speak about my power as if it is not of me.'

'Nor is it,' said the magus . 'It is a demon, a powerful demon. It has a name. Kadmilos. And he seeks to control you.'

Alexander found his mouth suddenly dry, and his hands began to tremble. 'What will happen to me if he wins?'

'You will become like Philippos. But that is a mountain you must climb on another day. You have great courage, Alexander, and an indomitable spirit. You may be able to hold him at bay. I will help you in any way that I can.'

'Why?'

'A good question, my boy, and I will answer it.' The magus sighed. 'A |°ng time ago, by your reckoning — twenty years or more — I was instructed to teach another child. He too was possessed. I taught him all that I could, but it was not enough. He became the Demon King. Now there is you.'

'But you failed with Philippos,' Alexander pointed out.

'You are stronger,' Chiron told him. 'Now tell me this, is there anyone from your world with the wit to seek you out?'

Alexander nodded. Parmenion. He will come for me. He is the greatest general and the finest warrior in Macedonia.'

'I will watch for him,' said Chiron.

Aristotle led the Macedonian warriors to an ancient wood in a valley so deep as to seem subterranean. Massive trees grew here, with trunks ten times thicker than the oaks of Macedonia, their branches interlaced and completely blocking the sky. The ground was ankle-deep with rotted vegetation and the warriors led their mounts for fear that a horse might catch his hoof in a hidden pothole or leaf-covered root, snapping the leg.

No birds sang in the forest and the air was cold, without hint of breeze. The trio moved silently on, Aristotle in the lead, coming at last to an open section of land. Attalus sucked in a deep breath as sunlight touched his skin, then stared around at the huge columns of stone. They were not round, nor made of blocks, but single wedges of granite, roughly hewn and three times the height of a tall man. Some had fallen, others had cracked and split. Parmenion moved to the centre of the stone circle where an altar was raised on blocks of marble. Running his fingers down the blood channels, he turned to Aristotle.

'Who built this. . temple?'

The people of Akkady. They are lost to history. . gone. Their deeds like dust on the winds of time.'

Attalus shivered. 'I do not like this place, magus . Why are we here?'

'This is the Gateway to that other Greece. The two of you remain here, by the altar. I will prepare the Spell of Opening.'

Aristotle strode to the outer circle and sat cross-legged on the grass, hands clasped to his breast and eyes closed.

'What excuse do you think he will give when no Gateway opens?' asked Attalus, forcing a smile. Parmenion looked into the swordsman's cold blue eyes, reading the fear there.

'Now would be a good time for you to lead your horse from this circle,' he said softly.

'You think I am frightened?'

'Why should you not be?' countered Parmenion. 'I am.'

Attalus relaxed. 'A Spartan afraid? You hide it well, Parmenion. How long. .' Light blazed around the circle and the horses reared, whinnying in terror. The warriors tightened their grip on the reins, calming the frightened animals. The light faded into a darkness so absolute both men were blind. Parmenion blinked and gazed up at the sky. Gradually, as his eyes became accustomed to the night, he saw stars shining high in the heavens.

'I think,' he said, keeping his voice low, 'that we have arrived.'

Attalus hobbled the dappled grey and walked to the edge of the circle, staring out over the mountains and valleys to the south. 'I know this place,' he said. 'Look there! Is that not Olympus?' Swinging to the north, he pointed to the silver ribbon of a great river. 'And there, the River Haliakmon. This is no other world, Parmenion!'

'He said it was like Greece,' the Spartan pointed out.

'I still do not believe it.'

'What does it take to convince you?' asked Parmenion, shaking his head. 'You have passed through the solid stone of a mountain, and moved within a heartbeat from noon to midnight. Yet still you cling to the belief that it is all trickery.'

'We will see,' muttered Attalus, returning to the grey and removing the hobble. 'Let us find somewhere to camp. It is too open here for a fire.' The swordsman vaulted to the grey, riding from the circle towards a wood to the south.

As the Spartan was about to follow Attalus the voice of Aristotle whispered into his mind, echoing and distant.

'There is much I wish I could tell you, my friend,' said the magus , 'but I cannot. Your presence in this world is of vital importance — not only for the rescue of the prince. I can safely give you only two pieces of advice: first, you should remember that the enemies of your enemy can be your friends; and second, make your way to Sparta. Treat it like a beacon of light to a ship in jeopardy. Sparta is the key!'