David Gemmell - Dark Prince

What could I have done, she asked herself? Whatever action or inaction she had chosen would still have resulted in tragedy, for there had been no time to influence all of the Makedones. But you did influence them, she thought. You slowed their reflexes, giving Parmenion and Attalus an edge.

Filled with self-doubt the Healer slept, dreaming of centaurs and a Demon King. In the midst of her dream she was awoken by the touch of a hand and sat up to see a naked white-haired woman sitting on a fallen tree. Behind her stood the minotaur she had seen at the clearing. The moon was high and a shaft of light bathed the woman, making her seem almost ethereal.

'You did well, seeress,' the woman said. 'You saved my children.'

'It was wrong of me to interfere,' Derae told her.

'Nonsense. Your actions saved not only my people but the two men you follow. Had they not acted as they did, then Brontes and his brothers would have slain them while they slept.'

'Why?' asked Derae. 'What harm have they done you?'

'They are Humans,' answered the woman. 'It is enough.'

'What do you want of me?'

'Your blood is of the Enchantment. That is why you have the Talent, parmenion also is a man of Power. You are strangers to this world, and I need to know if you come to do good or to work evil.'

'I will never knowingly help the cause of Chaos,' answered Derae. 'But that does not necessarily mean that I will always do good. For many years I fought the Chaos Spirit, seeking to prevent him becoming flesh. But I was responsible for his birth.'

'I know. Parmenion sired Iskander, and now the Demon King seeks him.' The woman was silent for a time, her expression distant. Then she turned her gaze once more to the Healer. 'The Enchantment is dying. Can you help to save it?'

'No.'

The woman nodded. 'Neither can I. But, if the child is truly Iskander. .' She sighed. 'I have no choice.' Turning to the minotaur she laid a slender hand on his huge shoulder. 'Go with her, Brontes, and help where you can. If the child is not Iskander, then return to me. If he is, then do what you must to get him to the Gateway.'

'I will, Mother,' he answered.

The moonlight faded, and with it the white-haired woman, but the minotaur remained. Derae reached out with her spirit — but was met by an invisible wall.

'You do not need to read my thoughts,' he told her, his voice impossibly sweet. 'I am no danger to you.'

'How can there be no danger when there is so much hate?' she countered.

He did not reply.

Alexander sat in the warm sunlight at the mouth of the cave, high on the mountain, staring out over the roof of the forest and the plains beyond. Despite his fear he felt wonderfully free in the Wood of the Centaurs. Here he could touch without killing and sleep without dreams. Yesterday a silver-grey bird had landed on his hand, sitting there warm in the security of his friendship, and not once had the killing power threatened to flow. It was a form of bliss Alexander had never known. He missed his home, and his mother and father, but the longing was eased by this new-found joy.

Chiron wandered out into the open. 'A fine day, young prince,' he said.

'Yes. It is beautiful. Tell me of the centaurs.'

'What would you wish to know?' asked the magus .

'How do they survive? I know something of horses, and the amount they must eat and drink. Their throats and stomachs are made for digesting grass and vast quantities of liquids. And their lungs are huge. I cannot see how the centaurs can function. Do they have two sets of lungs? Do they eat grass? And if so how do they manage it, for they cannot bend like the neck of a horse?'

Chiron chuckled. 'Good questions, Alexander. Your mind works well. You saw me with Caymal and it is the same with the true centaurs. They live like men and women, but they have formed special bonds with their mounts. They Merge in the hours of daylight, but at dusk they separate.'

'What happens if a horse dies? Can the centaur find another?'

'No. If the horse dies the man — or woman — will fade and pass away within a day, occasionally two.'

'Would that happen to you if Caymal died?' Alexander asked.

'No, for I am not a true centaur. Our Merging is born of external magic. That is why Camiron feels so isolated. Lost, if you will.'

Chiron passed the boy a chunk of sweet bread and, for a while, the companions ate in silence. Then the boy spoke again. 'Where did it begin?' he enquired.

'What an enormous question that is,' the magus answered. 'And who am I to attempt an answer? The world once brimmed with natural magic, in every stone and brook, every tree and hill. Many thousands of years ago there was a race of men who harnessed that magic. They strode the earth like gods — indeed they were gods, for they became almost immortal. They were bright, imaginative, inquisitive. And their children were the Titans, giants if they chose to be, poets if they wished to be. Times of wonder followed, but they are difficult to describe — especially to a four-year-old, albeit one as brilliant as Alexander. I would imagine you saw, at your own court, how men and women seek out the new — cloaks in different colours, dresses of different shape and design. Well, in the Old World the Titans sought out different shapes in the cloak of life. Some wished to be birds, having wings to soar into the sky.

Others wished to swim in the depths of the sea. All manner of hybrids graced the earth.' Chiron lapsed into silence, his eyes focused on the past.

'What happened then?' whispered Alexander.

'What always happens, boy. There was a great war, a time of astonishing cruelty and carnage. A vast amount of the world's magic was used up in that terrible confrontation. Look around you and see the trees. It would seem impossible that they could all be cut down. But if Man sets his mind to a matter he will achieve it, no matter how destructive. What I am saying is that all things are finite — even magic. The war went on for centuries, and now there are only pockets of true power. This wood is one, but out there in the New World of Men the stones are empty, the brooks and hills devoid of magic. So the children of the Titans — those who survive anyway — are drawn to these few areas of Enchantment, held to them by chains stronger than death.'

'You make it sound so sad,' said Alexander. 'Will the magic not come back?'

'Perhaps. One day, like a perfect flower, it might seed itself and grow again. But I doubt it.' Chiron sighed. 'And even if it does, Man will corrupt it. It is the way of all things. No, better for it to fade away.'

'But if it does, will not the centaurs die with it?'

'Indeed they will, and the nymphs and satyrs, the dryads and cyclopses. But so also will the Vores and the gorgons, the hydras and the birds of death. For not all the creatures of Enchantment are benign. However,' he said, rising, 'that is enough of my world for one day. Tell me of yours.'

They talked on for some time, but Alexander could tell him little of interest and became aware of a growing irritation within the magus . 'What is wrong?' the boy enquired at last. 'Does my lack of knowledge displease you?'

'Pah! It is not you, child,' replied Chiron, rising and walking away down the mountainside. Alexander ran after him, taking his hand.

'Tell me!' pleaded the prince. Chiron stopped and knelt before the boy, his expression softening.

'I have a dream, Alexander. I hoped you could help me in my pursuit of it. But you are very young and you know so little. It is not your fault. Indeed, I cannot imagine any other four-year-old who would know so much.'

'What are you seeking?'

'A world without evil,' answered Chiron sadly, 'and other impossibilities. Now wait for me at the cave. I need to walk for a while, to think and to plan.'