David Gemmell - Dark Prince

'In any direction?' queried the Spartan.

Gorgon shook his head. 'No. We could move directly east; then we would be at the edge of the forest, but maybe a day's march from the sea. It is the kingdom of Aetolia — close to the town of Calydon. But the King of Aetolia is a vassal of Philippos, and he keeps a force of over three hundred men at Calydon. They will be watching the forest.'

'Can you carry Brontes?'

Gorgon's huge hand snaked out, his fingers curling around Parmenion's cloak and dragging the Spartan forward. 'Are you insane? I have given up a kingdom for this quest of yours. Many of my own people have turned against me. And why? So that I can bring the Golden Child to the Giant's Gateway. Now you would risk it all for this ? he demanded, pointing to the dying minotaur.

'No, I will not risk it all. But the men watching the forest cannot be everywhere. And there is something else, Gorgon,' said Parmenion softly. 'There is friendship. There is loyalty. Brontes has risked his life on this quest, saving mine in the process. I owe him a debt — and I always repay.'

'Ha! What if it was me lying there? Would you risk your life for me?'

'Yes.'

Gorgon relaxed his grip and smiled, his pale eyes glowing, his expression unreadable. 'I believe you would. You are a fool… as Brontes is a fool. But then what is one more foolishness? Yes, I will carry him to the sunlight, if that is your wish.' The Forest King pushed his great hands beneath the minotaur, lifting him with ease and draping the body over his shoulder.

Parmenion shook the others awake and they followed Gorgon to the east. Within the hour the trees thinned out and bird-song could be heard in the distance. At last they reached the edge of the forest and emerged on to a hillside overlooking a walled town.

Gorgon laid the minotaur on the grass and backed away. Parmenion knelt beside Brontes, his hand resting on the creature's shoulder. 'Can you hear me, my friend?' he whispered.

A low groan came from Brontes, but his eyes opened. Blood was seeping over the lids in crimson tears.

'Too. . late.'

'No. Use whatever strength you have. Try .'

The minotaur's eyes closed as Gorgon moved alongside Parmenion. 'Come away. He needs privacy. The sun will feed him and there is a little Enchantment left here. I can feel it burning my feet.'

Parmenion stepped back into the shade of the trees, turning his eyes from the body on the grass.

'Will he live?' asked Alexander, taking Parmenion's hand.

'If he has the will,' the Spartan answered.

'I am very hungry,' said Camiron. 'Will we eat soon?'

'We are all hungry,' snapped Attalus. 'My belly thinks my throat has been cut. So stop complaining!"

'I will hunt something,' announced Camiron. Before anyone could speak the centaur, bow in hand, galloped down the hillside, heading south-east.

'Come back!' yelled Parmenion, but Camiron carried on running — in full view of the sentries on the walls of Calydon.

Within minutes the gates opened and a score of riders issued forth, racing in pursuit of the centaur.

'At least they are heading away from us,' observed Attalus. Parmenion said nothing. Glancing back to Brontes he saw the body bathed in dazzling sunlight, the minotaur's skin glowing like gold. The great head began to shrink, the horns disappearing. Brontes' right arm twitched and he groaned. The light faded. Parmenion and Gorgon moved alongside him; once more he was a golden-haired young man, handsome and blue-eyed.

'Thank you,' he said, reaching up and gripping Parmenion's hand.

'Give your thanks to Gorgon,' answered the Spartan, pulling Brontes upright. 'He carried you here.'

'I don't doubt he had his own reasons,' Brontes remarked.

'You overwhelm me with your gratitude, brother,' said Gorgon, the snakes hissing on his skull and baring their fangs.

He turned to Parmenion. 'Now we must move on — unless of course you wish to rescue the centaur. Say the word, general, and I will surround the city.'

Parmenion smiled. 'That will not be necessary. Lead on!'

'But we cannot leave Camiron behind,' wailed Alexander.

'We cannot help him, my prince,' said Parmenion sadly.

A dark shadow flickered across the grass and Gorgon glanced up. High above them a Vore circled, then flew off towards the north.

'We have been seen,' said Gorgon. 'Now it will be a race to the sea.'

The march south-west was slow. For the past few days the companions had lived on sour berries and foul-tasting mushrooms, forced to drink brackish water from dark pools. Parmenion's strength was fading, while Attalus twice vomited beside the trail. Only Gorgon seemed unaffected and tireless, striding on ahead with Alexander perched upon his shoulders.

They made camp at dusk beneath an overhang of stone, Gorgon permitting a fire which lifted the spirits of the Macedonians.

'Once across the Gulf, how long until we reach Sparta?' asked Attalus.

'If we can find horses — three more days,' Parmenion answered.

'Why Sparta?' put in Gorgon. 'Why not straight to the Gateway?'

'We are hoping to meet a friend there,' the Spartan told him. 'A magus of great power.'

'He will need to be — for Sparta will not stand for long against Philippos. Even as you entered the forest my Vores were telling me of the Makedones' march to the south. Korinthos has declared for the Demon King. Cadmos is overthrown and destroyed. Only one army stands now against Philippos. And they cannot defeat him. Sparta may already have fallen before we cross the Gulf.'

'If that proves to be true,' said Parmenion, 'then we will make our way to the Giant's Gateway. But Philippos has not yet faced a Spartan army and he may find it a punishing experience.'

Towards midnight, when the blaze had flickered down to coals, Parmenion awoke from a light sleep to hear the sounds of stealthy movement from the undergrowth to his left. Drawing his sword he woke Attalus, and the two men moved silently away from the fire.

The bushes parted and Camiron trotted towards the camp, carrying a dead doe across his shoulders. The centaur spotted the Macedonians and gave a broad smile. 'I am a great hunter,' he said. 'Look what I have!'

Gorgon strode from the camp-site, moving away to the east. Attalus took the doe, skinning it and hacking away the choicest sections with his sword. Within minutes the air was rich with the smell of meat roasting over the freshly-built fire.

'I swear by Zeus I never smelt anything finer,' whispered Attalus, as the fat oozed into the flames.

'You are magnificent,' Alexander told the centaur. 'I am very proud of you. But what happened to the men chasing you?'

'No one is as fast as Camiron,' replied the centaur. 'I ran them until their horses were bathed in lather, then cut back to the west. Mighty is Camiron. No rider can catch him.'

The meat was tough and stringy, but no one cared. Parmenion felt strength seeping back into his muscles as he devoured his third portion and licked the fat from his fingers.

'You realize,' remarked Attalus, lying back replete, 'that in Macedonia we would have flogged a hunter who tried to sell us meat as tough as that?'

'Yes,' said Parmenion, 'but was it not wonderful?'

'Beyond description,' the swordsman agreed.

'It would need to be,' muttered Gorgon, stepping forward from the darkness. 'The centaur has left a trail a blind man could follow. And the enemy are already close enough to smell the feast.' Lifting Alexander to his shoulders, he set off towards the south.

'Did I do wrong?' asked Camiron nervously. Parmenion patted the centaur's shoulder.

'We needed to eat,' he said. 'You did well.'

'Yes, I did, didn't I?' exclaimed Camiron, his confidence returning.