David Gemmell - Dark Prince

There was nothing, save the breeze rustling the dry grass on the sides of the cliff. Swiftly he returned to the circle of boulders where the three brothers were asleep. Lightly he tapped Brontes on the shoulder. The minotaur groaned and raised his massive head. 'What is it?'

'The sentry is gone. Wake your brothers!' whispered Attalus. Moving to Alexander he lifted the boy to his shoulder and set off for the forest. As he reached open ground there came the sound of screams from the north. Several ponies ran from the rocks, but spears and arrows sliced into them. A young man riding a pale pony almost got clear, but a Vore swooped down from the night sky, a dart thudding into the pony's neck. The beast went down, throwing the boy clear. He rose, staggered, and fell as a second dart lanced his body.

Attalus started to run. Alexander woke, but he did not scream or shout. His arms moved around Attalus' neck and he held on tightly.

From behind came the sound of a galloping horse and Attalus swung, dragging his sword clear. A huge centaur carrying a curved bow ran towards them.

'Camiron!' shouted Alexander. The centaur slowed.

'Many Makedones,' he said. 'Too many to kill. The centaurs are dead.'

Sheathing his sword, Attalus took hold of Camiron's mane and leapt to his back. 'Make for the trees!' he commanded.

Camiron surged forward, almost unseating the Macedonian, but then they were away. Dark-cloaked warriors were closing in from the south, north and east. But the way west, to the forest, was still clear. Camiron thundered across the open ground as arrows slashed the air around him.

A Vore swooped down from the sky and Camiron swerved and reared as a dart sliced in to the ground beside him.

Notching an arrow to his bow the centaur sent a shaft winging through the air, taking the Vore in the right side and piercing its lung. The creature's wings folded and it crashed to the earth.

Camiron broke into a gallop and headed for the trees, leaving the Makedones far behind. The forest closed around them but still Camiron ran, leaping fallen trees and boulders, splashing across streams, until he crested a hill that led on to a small hollow circled by tall pines. Here he slowed.

'This place no good. This is Gorgon's Forest.'

Attalus lifted his leg and slid to the ground. 'It's safer than where we were,' he said, releasing Alexander. The boy sank to the earth, his hands clasped to his temples.

'Are you ill?' Attalus asked, dropping to his knees beside the boy. Alexander looked up and the swordsman found himself staring into yellow eyes, the pupils slitted.

'I am well,' came a deep voice. Attalus recoiled and Alexander laughed, the sound hollow and cruel.

'Do not fear me, assassin. You have always served me well.'

Attalus said nothing. At Alexander's temples dark skin erupted, flowing, swelling, curling back over his ears and down to his neck, forming into twin ram's horns, ebony-dark and gleaming in the moonlight.

'I like this place,' said the Chaos Spirit. 'It suits me.'

'Death to your enemies, sire,' said Parmenion, bowing low.

'You are an enemy,' hissed Gorgon. The Spartan straightened and smiled, looking into the pale eyes of the monstrosity before him.

'Indeed I am — for I am Human. But I have the capacity to give you all that you desire.'

'You can have no understanding of what I desire. But speak on, for you amuse me — as your imminent death will amuse me.'

'Long ago you were a warrior,' said Parmenion softly, 'a child of the Titans. You had the ability to change your shape, to fly, or to swim below the sea. But when the Great War ended you were banished here, trapped in the last form you chose. Now the Enchantment is dying, all over the world. But you will survive, Gorgon; you know that.

You will live for a thousand years, here in this place of dark magic. But one day even this forest will fall to the axes of men.'

Gorgon surged to his feet, the snakes of his hair hissing and thrashing. 'You came here to tell me what I already know? You are no longer amusing, Human.'

'I came to offer the answer to your dreams,' Parmenion told him.

'And what is my dream?'

'Be careful, Parmenion,' came the voice of Thena in his mind. 'I cannot read him.'

'You have many dreams,' said Parmenion. 'You dream of revenge, you nurse your hatreds. But the one dream, the one great dream, is to see the Enchantment restored, to be free of Man.'

Gorgon sank back on to the throne of skulls. 'And this you can give me?' he asked, his cavernous mouth stretching into an obscene smile.

'Iskander can bring the dream to life.'

For a moment the King was silent, then he leaned forward, his pale eyes glittering. 'You speak of the child Philippos seeks. He has offered much for this child — many women, not plain like the one with you, but beautiful, soft and sweet. He promises to accept my sovereignty over the forest. I think his is the offer I will accept.'

'Why does he want the child so desperately?' countered Parmenion.

'For immortality.'

'An immortal Human? Is that to be desired? And what else?'

'What else is there?'

The death of Enchantment. Without Iskander you have no hope. You will all wither and die. That is the ultimate aim of Philippos — it has to be.'

'And the child is Iskander?'

'He is,' Parmenion replied.

'And he can lift the curse from me and my people?'

'He can.'

'I do not believe it. Now it is time to die, Human.'

'Is this all that you want?' asked Parmenion, his arm sweeping out to encompass the clearing, 'or have you lived so long as a monstrosity that you can no longer remember what it was like to live as a god? I pity you.'

'Save your pity!' thundered the King. 'Save it for yourself and the bony woman beside you!'

'What was your name?' asked Thena suddenly, her voice clear and sweet.

'My name? I am Gorgon.'

'What was your name before, in the bright golden days?'

'I… I… what has this to do with anything?'

'Can you not remember?' she asked, moving forward to stand before him.

'I remember,' he answered. 'I was Dionius.' The King sagged back on the throne, the taut muscles of his shoulders relaxing. 'I will think more on what you say. You and your man may stay with us tonight; you will be safe while I consider your words.'

Thena bowed and walked to Parmenion, leading him away to the edge of the clearing.

'What was that about his name?' asked the Spartan.

'His mind was too powerful to read, but one image kept flickering in his thoughts when you spoke of the return of the Enchantment. It was of a handsome man with clear blue eyes. I guessed it must be him.'

'You are a good companion to have,' he told her, taking her hand and kissing it. 'Wise and intuitive.'

'And bony and plain,' she replied, with a smile.

'Not at all,' he whispered. 'You are beautiful.'

Snatching her hand from his, she pulled back. 'Do not mock me, Spartan.'

'I spoke only the truth. Beauty is more than skin, flesh and bone. You have courage and spirit. And, if you doubt my words, then read my mind.'

'No. I know what is there.'

'Then why are you angry?'

'I had a lover long ago,' she said, turning away from him. 'He was young, as was I. We did not have long together, and I have missed him for many years.'

'What happened?'

'I was taken from him, across the sea, and held captive in a temple until I agreed to become a priestess.'

'And he made no attempt to find you? His love could not have been as great as yours.'

'He thought me dead.'

'I am sorry,' said Parmenion, taking her hand once more. 'I know the scars you carry; I have them too.'

'But you are married now, with three children. Surely you have forgotten your first love?'