David Gemmell - Dark Prince

Three more Makedones entered the clearing from the left and Attalus ran to meet them, blocking a sword-thrust and sending a reverse cut that opened one man's throat in a spray of crimson.

But then the main body of the enemy appeared, spreading out around the Macedonians. Parmenion backed away, Attalus joining him, the spears of the Makedones closing around them in a wall of pointed iron.

'I should have taken your advice,' whispered Attalus.

'Where is the child?' asked a swarthy, dark-eyed warrior with a pockmarked face.

Attalus chuckled. 'It is hard to believe anything so ugly could have learned the power of speech.'

'Where is the child?' asked the man again, the spear-points moving closer.

A spearman toppled forward, an arrow jutting from his skull. Then another screamed as a shaft pierced his thigh.

'Down!' shouted Parmenion, seizing Attalus' arm and dropping to the earth.

From all sides arrows hissed across the open ground. A dead Makedones fell across Parmenion with two shafts in his back, a third through his eye. Everywhere the soldiers were dying. Several men tried to run back to the trail, but the huge form of the minotaur Brontes appeared, his double-headed axe slicing through their breastplates and helms.

Two warriors managed to pass him and disappeared down the slope, but their screams echoed back and Parmenion watched as the minotaur's brothers — Steropes the lion-headed, and Arges the Cyclops — emerged from the trees.

A terrible silence descended on the clearing. Parmenion eased himself clear of the corpse that had fallen across him and rose, sheathing his sword. Bodies lay everywhere. From the trees came centaurs carrying bows and quivers, their faces grim, their eyes fierce.

'It is good to see you again,' Parmenion told Brontes as the minotaur approached. The great bull's head nodded.

'You run well,' said the minotaur, moving past him to the cypress tree where Alexander was hidden. Dropping his axe, the creature raised his arms. 'Come to me, Iskander!' he called.

Alexander wriggled clear of the branches, dropping into the minotaur's arms. 'Are you truly Iskander?' the beast whispered.

'That is what I was called,' answered the boy.

'And you can open the Giant's Gateway?'

'We shall see,' said Alexander, choosing his words with care. With the boy in his arms, Brontes walked back to where Parmenion and Attalus waited.

'The centaurs brought word that Iskander had come. The Lady bade us protect him. This we will do, with our lives if necessary. Yet it may not be enough. The Makedones are many, and we are few.'

'We must get to Sparta,' said Parmenion. 'There the boy will be safe.'

'The Spartan King is said to be a great man,' said Brontes. 'He does not hunt down the people of the Enchantment.

And the Giant's Gateway is close by. Yes, we will come with you to Sparta.'

Parmenion nodded, then swung his gaze over the centaurs. 'How many are with us?' he asked.

'These twenty are all that survive.'

'Then who is scouting the woods to watch for the enemy?'

'No one,' admitted Brontes.

The Spartan walked across the clearing, stepping over the corpses, until he stood before a young centaur, a deep-chested creature with chestnut hair and beard. 'Who commands here?' he asked.

'I am Kheops, the son of Kytin-Kyaris. No one commands.'

'Well, Kheops, I am the guardian of Iskander, and I will command and be obeyed.'

'We will not suffer the orders of a Human,' replied Kheops, his face reddening.

'Then leave us,' said Parmenion softly, 'and we will try to save Iskander alone.'

The centaur's front hooves stamped the earth, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Parmenion waited, holding to the creature's gaze. 'We must see that Iskander lives,' said Kheops. 'We cannot go.'

'Then you will obey me,' Parmenion told him. 'Send five of your. . fellows to watch for the Makedones. We must not be surprised by them again.'

'It will be as you say,' answered Kheops, as if the words were torn from him.

Parmenion swung away from the centaur to see Chiron moving carefully across the clearing, avoiding the bloodstains on the earth. The sorcerer took Parmenion's arm, leading him away from the others.

'This is wrong,' whispered Chiron. 'The child is not Iskander. I know it; you know it.'

Parmenion sighed. 'What I know, magus , is that we must reach Sparta to save Alexander. I will take all the aid I can find.'

'But these creatures. . what of their hopes? Don't you see, Iskander is everything to them? He is the promise that keeps them alive, the one who will return magic to the world and end the reign of Man.'

'What is this Giant's Gateway?' the Spartan asked.

'There is a wood a day's ride south of Sparta. There, on a hill, stand two colossal pillars linked by a great lintel stone.

That is the Gateway.'

‘To where?'

'To nowhere,' replied Chiron. 'But the legend says that Iskander will open it, that he will grow to the height of the tallest tree and rest his hands on each pillar. Only then will the Enchantment return, bathing the world. But Alexander cannot do it; he is not the Golden Child.'

'What would you have me do, magus ? Lose the only allies we have in this strange world of yours? Condemn Alexander to death? No, I will not do it. They have made their choice. I did not force it upon them.'

'That is not an argument you can use,' said Chiron. 'You know they are wrong, but you allow them to continue in their error because it suits your purpose. What you are doing will, in all likelihood, condemn them all to death.'

'Is there a problem here, Chiron?' asked Brontes, ambling forward to join them.

'Is there a problem?' the magus enquired of Parmenion.

The Spartan's cold blue eyes met his gaze. 'No,' he answered. 'Tomorrow we will take Iskander to his destiny.'

Then he turned and saw the woman.

Derae took a deep breath as the Spartan turned. Her legs felt weak and boneless and her hands trembled. So close, she thought. They had talked on Samothrace, but then Derae had been hooded and veiled, her mind locked to the task ahead. But now, as he walked slowly towards her, she felt sixteen again — remembering the softness of his touch, the sweetness of his breath.

'Do you know me, lady?' he asked. It was not the voice of the youth she had loved, but still the sound sent a shiver through her. Her spirit flickered out, touching his mind, sensing the emotions surging through him: curiosity, empathy, and — though her body was now plain and unmemorable — arousal. Swiftly she withdrew from him.

'I know you,' she answered, her voice steady, her hazel eyes meeting his gaze.

He stood for a moment, silent, indecisive. Brontes strolled across to them. 'She is a friend to the Goddess, my mother,' said Brontes. 'She is of the Enchantment.'

Parmenion nodded, but his gaze remained on the dark-haired woman. 'We must get away from this place,' he said, turning to Brontes. 'You know these woods. Where can we go?'

'Do not answer,' said Derae swiftly. 'We are being observed.'

Brontes' huge hand closed around the haft of the axe hanging from his belt and Parmenion swung to scan the clearing. 'There is no one here,' Derae told them. 'We are being watched from afar.'

'By whom?' the minotaur asked.

'By a priest of Philippos.'

'Can you shield us? My mother says you are a mystic.'

'Perhaps.' Derae sat down on the grass and closed her eyes, her spirit flying free. A lance of light swept towards her.

Her hand flashed up, the lance splitting into a thousand sparks which floated around her like fireflies.

'You will die,' shouted the shaven-headed priest as he floated before her.

'We will all die one day,' she answered. Her hands came up and the fireflies streamed back to the priest, linking to form a golden ribbon that wound about his head and face to blind him. 'Go back to your master,' said Derae. The priest disappeared.