David Gemmell - Dark Prince

'Be careful, magus , we will need you and your magic if the Vores return,' Parmenion warned him.

The storm passed overhead, the clouds breaking up behind it, allowing sunshine to bathe the mountains as the group moved on, the centaurs riding ahead. Parmenion ran back up the slope, shading his eyes and studying their back-trail.

Attalus joined him. 'You see anything?' the Macedonian asked.

'I'm not sure. Look over there, beyond the pines. There is a cleft in the rocks. I thought I saw a man moving between them.'

'I see nothing. Let's move on.'

'Wait!' urged Parmenion, grabbing Attalus' arm and hauling him down. 'Look now!'

A line of men was moving down the slope several miles to the east, sunlight glinting from helms and spear-points.

Above them a Vore circled. 'How many?' Attalus whispered.

'More than fifty. Happily they are afoot and that means they could not come up to us before dark. Even so we must hurry.'

'Why? They'll have a difficult task trying to track us in the forest.'

'First we need permission to enter the forest,' said Parmenion.

'From whom?'

'The monsters who dwell there,' answered the Spartan, moving back from the rim and loping down the pass.

'Monsters? You said nothing of monsters,' shouted Attalus, running after him.

Parmenion slowed and grinned. 'I like to surprise you, Attalus.' The smile faded and he gripped the other man's shoulder. 'I may not come back. If that be the case, do whatever you can to bring Alexander to Sparta.'

‘I’ll come with you. I'm getting used to your company.'

'No. If we both die, what hope is there for the boy? You stay with him.'

It was dusk when the travellers came to the foot of the mountains. The centaurs rode off to find their own private places while Brontes, Steropes and Arges prepared a fire in the centre of a cluster of white boulders. Attalus and Alexander settled down beside the blaze to rest, while the woman Thena strolled from the camp to stand alongside the Spartan as he studied the forest.

'When will you go in?' she asked.

'I would prefer it to be dawn,' he told her. 'But the Makedones are close behind and we may not have that long.

Where in Hecate's name is Chiron?'

'It would be best if we entered the forest before nightfall,' advised Thena.

Parmenion nodded. 'Then let us be about it.' Striding to the boulders, he outlined his plan to the others.

'You are a madman,' stormed Brontes. 'I thought you would realize your folly. Don't you understand? Gorgon will kill you — and if he doesn't, he will betray you to Philippos.'

'You may be correct, my friend, but our choices are limited. If I am not back by the dawn, you must make your own way to the Gulf as best you can.'

Without another word he swung on his heel and walked across the open ground towards the dark wall of trees.

Thena came alongside him. 'Are we being observed?' he asked, his voice low.

'Yes. There are several beasts in the trees watching us. They are thinking of murder,' she said.

She felt Parmenion stiffen, his stride faltering, his hand easing towards his sword. 'We could go back,' she whispered.

'These creatures,' he said softly, 'you can read their thoughts?'

'Yes — such as they are.'

'Can you talk to them?'

'No, but I can influence them. What do you wish them to do?'

'Take me to the Lord Gorgon.'

'Very well. Count up to twenty and then shout his name. That will give me time to work on them.'

Derae took several deep breaths, calming herself, then sent her spirit into the trees. The first creature she touched -

part reptile, part cat — her recoil. His thoughts were of blood, and rending flesh. There was little intelligence here and she moved on, coming at last to a Vore who sat in the highest branches of an oak, his pale eyes staring at the two humans. He also relished thoughts of murder, but Derae sensed curiosity too.

'Gorgon!' yelled Parmenion. 'I wish to speak to the Lord Gorgon!'

The Vore tensed, unsure what to do. Derae's voice whispered deep within his mind, sending up thoughts from his subconscious. 'I must take them to the Lord. He will be angry if I do not. He will kill me if I do not. One of these others will tell him the man called for him. He will blame me.'

Spreading his wings, the Vore launched himself into the air, gliding down to land some twenty paces from the Humans.

Derae opened her eyes and instinctively reached out to take Parmenion's hand.

The Vore moved closer, its taloned feet uncomfortable on flat ground. 'You wish to see the Lord?'

'I do,' answered Parmenion.

'You are from Philippos?'

'I will speak only to the Lord Gorgon,' Parmenion said.

'I will lead you, Human.'

The Vore swung round and began to walk clumsily towards the trees, its treble-jointed feet making it stoop as it moved. Several times it slipped, but its wings flashed out to steady its balance.

Still holding Derae's hand, Parmenion followed the creature. 'What are the others thinking?' he whispered.

'One of them plans to leap upon you the moment you reach the shadows of the trees. Beware! But do not kill it.

Leave it to me!'

Letting go of her hand Parmenion walked on, gripping the hilt of his sword. Sweat bathed his face and his heart was beating wildly. Yet not all his thoughts were of fear. The touch of the woman's hand had been like fire moving through his blood, lifting him. The trees came closer, dark and forbidding, no sound emerging from the forest, no bird-song, not even the chitter of bats.

A reptilean creature sprang from an overhead branch and Parmenion leapt aside, but the beast plummeted to the ground and lay without moving. The Vore hissed out a warning to the other beasts nearby, then walked stiff-legged to the unconscious creature. 'Is it dead?' he asked.

'Sleeping,' Derae answered.

The Vore knelt over the body, ramming its talons through the creature's neck and wrenching clear the head. 'Now it is dead,' he hissed, licking the blood from his claws.

Slowly they walked on through the gathering gloom. Derae could hear the sounds of beasts moving on either side of them and in the branches above, but no further violence threatened them.

'Sweet Hera!' whispered Derae.

'What is it?'

'The Lord of the Forest. . the Gorgon. I touched him. Such hatred.'

'Against whom is it directed?'

'Everyone.'

The track widened and the Vore led them down into a huge hollow where a score of fires were lit and a monstrous figure waited, seated upon a throne of skulls. His skin was dark green, mottled with brown, his head enormous, his mouth cavernous and rimmed with fangs. But upon his head, in place of hair, writhed a score of snakes. Parmenion walked forward and bowed.

'Death to your enemies, sire,' he said.

Far to the south, across the Gulf of Korinthos in the low hills of Arcadia, a bright light blazed briefly across the marble Tombs of the Heroes. It shone like a second moon, flickered and then died.

A shepherd boy saw the light and wondered if it presaged a storm, but his sheep and goats were undisturbed and there were no clouds in the night sky — the stars bright, the moon shining clear.

For a moment or two the boy thought about the light, then pushed it from his mind and huddled into his cloak, switching his gaze to his flock, eyes scanning the perimeters of the pasture to seek signs of wolf or lion.

But there was only one wolf close by, and the boy did not see him, for he was nestled down behind a marble gravestone in the nearby hills; and he too saw the light. As it flared up all around him, dazzling, terrifying, his thoughts of hunger fled before it.

The wolf was old, banished from the pack. Yet once he had been mighty, a leader to be feared, cunning and deadly.