David Gemmell - Dark Prince

'Now we await Gorgon's pleasure,' whispered Brontes. 'It would be a kind act were you to kill the woman now.'

'No,' said Parmenion softly. 'We'll play out the game to the end.'

'As you wish.'

The trio walked forward between the waiting lines and halted before the throne. Gorgon's huge head lifted, his pale eyes glaring balefully at Parmenion.

'I have given thought to your words, warrior. I find them unconvincing.'

'Naturally,' said Parmenion. 'When one is cursed for so long, a dream is hard to hold. So many disappointments, so much bitterness and hatred. Why should you find it easy to believe?'

'I mean to kill you,' continued the King, as if he hadn't heard. 'I will ensure your death is long in coming.'

'Does this mean that you will accept the offer of Philippos?' asked Parmenion calmly.

'Yes. I will find the child and deliver him to the Makedones King.'

'In return for what? A few women? Sovereignty over the forest? Do you sell yourself so cheaply? Philippos grants you what you already have, and you take it as a gift. What of your people here? What do they get? You turn down their chance of removing the curse upon them. What is there for them?'

'They serve me!' bellowed Gorgon, rising from his throne. 'They will do as I opmmand. You think your sweet words have swayed them? Yes, we are cursed, but there is no Iskander to rescue us. He is a dream, an invention, created by those without the courage to live without hope. But you can serve a purpose, Human. Your screams can amuse us for a little while.'

The lines of monsters began to move, curling around the trio. Brontes gave a low growl and Parmenion drew his sword. Derae stood still, her gaze resting on the Forest King, her spirit reaching out.

'To live without hope,' she said, her voice high and clear and unafraid, 'is not courageous. It is the worst form of cowardice. It means you have given up the struggle. Have you always been such a man, Dionius? Or was there a time when your dreams were golden and the joy of love filled your soul?' Through the waves of bitterness surging from the Forest King she saw, suddenly, the briefest vision — a young woman and a man, hand in hand before the ocean. Then the image was savagely cut off.

'I never knew love!' he roared.

'You lie! There was Persephone!'

Gorgon reeled as if struck, then cried out, his scream high-pitched and chilling. Derae saw it all then, as the gates of Gorgon's memory fell away. The beautiful young woman and the handsome child of the Titans — walking together, laughing, touching, loving. She saw them in many shapes, sea birds, dolphins and other exquisite creatures she could not name. But Persephone was human, and not all the Titan's magic could hold back her final hours when the dark plague swept in from the north.

Gorgon fell to the ground, beating at the earth with his fists. The monsters of the forest stood back, silent and uncertain. Slowly Gorgon rose, the snakes hanging lank and lifeless from his scalp. From his belt he drew a long dagger, its edge serrated, and advanced on Derae.

'Would Persephone enjoy this scene?' she asked.

Gorgon sighed and dropped the knife. 'I will see the child,' he whispered. 'If he is Iskander, I will help you. If he is not, then your screams will last an eternity.'

For a moment Parmenion stood still, his gaze moving from the tall woman to the snake-headed monster before her.

Then he sheathed his sword. Thena's voice whispered in his mind. 'Do nothing and say nothing,' she urged.

Gorgon turned away from the scene, returning to his throne and slumping upon it with his head in his hands.

Thena touched Parmenion's arm and walked back to the shade of the tree where they had spent the night. The Spartan followed her. 'What is wrong?' he asked. 'Is he lying? Will he truly help us?'

'Gorgon is not the concern,' she whispered. 'The Demon Prince has gathered an army. He is moving towards us, intent on destroying the Forest King.'

'What Demon Prince?' asked Parmenion. 'What are you saying?'

'The Chaos Spirit has taken control of Alexander. He has become a horned creature, with fangs and talons. It is these woods, Parmenion, so full of Dark Enchantment. They swelled his power. Attalus is with him, and a centaur called Camiron. But the Spirit now controls hundreds of Gorgon's followers.'

'I don't understand. How do you know this? You said you could not release your spirit here.'

'I can still reach out, touching those I know if they are not too far distant. I can feel the thoughts and fears of Attalus.

They will be here very soon.'

'From which direction do they come?'

'The north,' she answered, pointing to a break in the trees.

'Is the demon in full control of the boy?'

'Yes.'

Parmenion sighed, then cursed softly. 'I will go to them,' he said.

'The Demon Prince will kill you!'

'I have no choice,' he replied wearily. A Vore swooped down over the trees, landing before the Forest King.

Parmenion strode back to the throne. Gorgon listened as the Vore spoke, then came to his feet — eyes angry, fists clenched.

'This child of yours comes to me for war!' he thundered.

'As you would expect, my lord,' answered Parmenion. 'He does not know whether we are prisoners or guests. I shall go to him, and bring him to you alone.'

This Iskander,' said the King, 'is horned and cat-eyed. The legends do not speak of this.'

'He is a shape-changer, as you once were, sire. His powers, as you now know, are very great. Let me go to him.'

Gorgon nodded, then his hand stabbed out, pointing to Thena and Brontes. 'They stay,' he hissed, 'and if you lie they will suffer.'

Parmenion bowed. 'As you wish, lord,' he said, holding his voice even. Bowing once more, the Spartan swung to the north and walked from the clearing. Once in the cover of the trees he ran — long, loping, effortless strides along the narrow trail, his mind concentrating on the problem ahead. How could he deal with a god? What arguments could he use?

Thena's voice whispered once more into his brain. 'I can feel Alexander now. He is not wholly overcome. And there is something else. . the demon and the boy are linked. The Chaos Spirit is not yet whole. He is still… I don't know.

. child-like?'

The words faded and the Spartan ran on, up a hillside and on to a wider track. 'More to your left!' came the voice of Thena. 'No more than two hundred paces.'

The undergrowth was too thick to change direction, and Parmenion ran back along the way he had come before turning to a new trail. He could hear them now, just ahead. Slowing to a walk the Spartan stepped out before them and waited, keeping his face emotionless despite the shock of seeing the Demon Prince sitting upon the giant centaur. Alexander's face was now a pallid grey, mottled black ram's horns sprouting from the temples. His hair was white, the golden eyes slitted beneath heavy brows, his mouth was twisted and wide with teeth long and protruding.

There was nothing left of the beautiful child.

'Ah, my general approaches!' came a deep voice. 'Welcome, Parmenion!'

Beyond the Prince the monstrous army waited, and beside him stood Attalus, his face a mask, his expression unreadable.

'This is neither your time nor your world,' said Parmenion softly. 'Give us back the boy.'

'Serve me or die!' answered the Chaos Spirit.

'No, you will die,' Parmenion told him. 'You think this display of. . power. . can win you a world? Gorgon will fight you, and even if you defeat him what will you have? A pitiful forest in a world where another Spirit rules. And that Spirit controls an army of countless thousands. You are playing a child's game in a man's world. Now give us back the boy!'

The Demon swung to Attalus. 'Kill him!' he ordered. Attalus said nothing, but drew his sword and walked to where Parmenion stood waiting. Once there the Macedonian turned and faced the Demon. 'You betray me!' shouted the prince. 'Then you will both die.'