David Gemmell - Dark Prince

'Love Phaedra?' he answered, shaking his head. 'She married me for one purpose. . and I do not wish to talk of it.'

'Then we will not.'

Suddenly he gave a wry smile. 'Why did you ask me that question? You are a seeress, Thena; you know the answer already.' The smile faded, his expression hardening. 'Do you know all my secrets?'

The thought of lying flitted across her mind, but she dismissed it. 'Yes,' she told him softly.

He nodded. 'I thought so. Then you know why she married me.'

'To rid herself of the unwanted gift of prophecy.'

'And?' he pressed — his eyes, cold now, holding to her gaze.

'Because her gift told her you would sire a god-king to rule the world. She wanted that boy to be her son.'

'And now,' said Parmenion sorrowfully, 'she raises poor Philotas, filling his mind with thoughts of future glories. It is a terrible illusion — and I can do nothing to stop it. Is this the price I must pay for my. . betrayal?'

'You are not an evil man,' she told him, taking his hand. 'Do not allow one mistake to poison your feelings of self-worth.'

'It could all have been so different, Thena, if Derae and I had been allowed to wed. Maybe there would have been no riches — but we would have had a home and children.' Pushing himself to his feet, he stared out over the moonlit treetops. 'But then there is little advantage in trying to reshape the past. We didn't marry. They killed her. And I became Parmenion, the Death of Nations. I can live with it. Come, let us get back to the camp. Perhaps tonight I can sleep without dreams.'

By the fifth day of their journey the trek south had slowed. The Vores had flown away the night before and not returned, and Gorgon seemed to Parmenion to have grown more cautious, constantly scouting ahead, leaving the others behind. Brontes had been unusually silent for the past two days, wandering away from his companions and sitting alone, his huge bull's head in his hands. And Attalus was growing surly, his pale eyes constantly flickering towards Alexander.

Parmenion felt a growing unease. The forest was thicker here, little light breaking through the thick canopy of intertwined branches high above, the air filled with the stench of rotting vegetation. But it was not just the sickening smell or the lack of light that left the Spartan on edge; in this place there was an aura of evil that entered the mind, touching the soul with dread.

That night, for the first time, Parmenion built a fire. Attalus and Thena sat down beside it, the swordsman staring gloomily into the dancing flames. Brontes moved away and sat with his back to a broad oak and Parmenion followed him.

'Are you in pain?' asked the Spartan.

Brontes' head came up. A thin trickle of blood was dripping from his right nostril.

'I need. . the Change,' whispered Brontes. 'But it cannot be… accomplished… in this place. If we do not move clear of this forest in the next two days I shall die.'

'You knew this would happen?'

'Yes.'

'And yet you came with us? I don't know what to say, Brontes.'

The minotaur shrugged. 'Iskander is all-important; he must arrive at the Giant's Gateway. Leave me, my friend. It is hard to speak through the pain.'

At that moment Gorgon returned, easing his giant bulk through the undergrowth. He ran across the small clearing and kicked earth upon the fire, scattering sparks that swept across Thena's robes.

'What in Hades are you doing?' stormed Attalus.

'No fires!' hissed Gorgon.

'Why? Is this not your forest?' responded the swordsman. 'What should we fear?'

'Everything,' answered Gorgon, stalking towards Parmenion. 'The Makedones have entered the forest,' he said, his eyes glittering. 'There are more than a thousand warriors, split into five groups. Two are behind us, two to the east and one ahead.'

'Do they know where we are?'

'I believe that they do. Many of the Vores have deserted me and joined the Makedones. There is little loyalty in this forest, Human. I rule because I am the strongest, and my crown is secure only so long as I am feared. But the Vores fear Philippos more. So they should, for his power is greater than mine.'

'When will we reach the sea?'

'Two days — if we travel fast. Three if we are careful.'

Parmenion shook his head. 'Brontes will not survive three days.'

Gorgon's mouth stretched into the parody of a smile, the snakes on his head rising with fangs bared.

'What does that matter? All that is important is that Iskander reaches the Gateway. And that is now doubtful. This forest is my domain and my strength — yet it is taxing my powers to the limit to keep Philippos from finding us. The bony woman with you is also nearing exhaustion, shielding us. But we are tiring, Human. And when our magic is drained there will not be a place in this forest to hide. Do you understand? At this moment the priestess and I have covered the forest with a spirit mist, and we are hidden within it. But every hour that passes sees the Demon King cutting away at our defences. Soon it will be like a storm wind dispersing our mist, and we will stand in the full view of the golden eye. I cannot concern myself with the small problem of Brontes' life.' Gorgon lay down, closing his eyes. 'We will rest for two hours,' he said softly, 'then push on through the night.'

Parmenion walked back to the dead fire where Alexander was sleeping peacefully beside the centaur, Camiron.

Removing his cloak Parmenion covered the child, pausing to stroke the boy's head.

Attalus saw him, his eyes narrowing, but he masked his feelings as Parmenion joined him. 'Why is the beast so nervous?' asked the Macedonian, flicking his hand towards the sleeping Gorgon.

'A thousand Makedones have entered the forest.'

'Only a thousand? Surely they will prove no problem for the strategos ? What will you do this time? Summon the birds from the trees to our aid? Or perhaps the trees themselves will uproot and march to your orders?'

'Your anger is misdirected,' Parmenion pointed out. 'I am not your enemy.'

'Ah! A friend, I suppose? That is an amusing thought.'

Parmenion turned away to see the tall priestess watching them both. Her voice whispered into his mind:

'We are being watched by a priest of Philippos. They have broken through our defences and he is listening to your words, relaying them to the Demon King.'

Parmenion gave no sign that he had heard her and swung back to Attalus. 'I know you find this hard to believe, Attalus, but, I say again, I am not your enemy. And here, in this dread place, I am indeed your friend. We will stay here for two more days, then strike east — back across the mountains. Once clear of this forest you will feel more easy in your mind. It is the evil that gnaws at you. Believe me.'

'What gnaws at me is none of your concern,' hissed Attalus.

'He is gone!' pulsed Thena. 'Gorgon drove him back.'

Parmenion leaned in close to the Macedonian. 'Now you listen to me, there are enemies all around us and — if we are to survive — we must be together in spirit and strength. You think me your foe? Perhaps I am. But here I must depend on you. And you must trust me. Without that our hopes — slender as they are — will prove to be for nothing. We were both threatened by the Chaos Spirit. But I choose to ignore his words. He does not know the future — and I will always be the master of my fate. As will you-for we are men of strength. Now. . can I trust you?'

'Why ask the question? You would not believe me if I told you what you wanted to hear.'

'You are wrong, Attalus. Say the words and I will believe them.'

The swordsman smiled. 'Then you can trust me,' he said. 'Does that satisfy you?'

'Yes. Now we will rest for two hours — and then find a path west and south.'