David Gemmell - Dark Prince

He drew them apart from the warrior, the goddess and the child, leading his men to a cluster of rocks some fifty paces to the west.

'You have all seen the miracle,' he said. 'I felt the sword pierce my belly. Yet there is now no wound. You saw Poseidon's daughter ride the dolphin. But where does that leave us, my brothers?'

No one answered. No one knew. Ektalis nodded, understanding their fears. The Makedones leader, Canus, had said it all. Their treachery was already known, their lives forfeit.

'The Spartans still stand against the Tyrant,' said Ektalis. 'What choice do we have, save to join with them? Either that or ride to the nearest port and seek a ship to Aegyptus, there to sign as mercenary soldiers?'

'What of our families?' a young soldier asked.

'What indeed?' answered Ektalis sadly. 'We have no hope of seeing them unless the Tyrant is overthrown.'

'But the Spartans cannot win,' said the lean, bearded waqaor who had first stood by Ektalis.

'Yesterday I might have agreed with you, Samis. But today? Today I have seen the power of the gods — and they are not with Philippos. I was killed today — yet I live. I am a new man, Samis. I will never bow the knee to evil again.'

'What of the others?' asked Samis. 'They didn't see the miracles. When they arrive, how will we persuade them to follow us? What if they turn against us, or deliver us to the Tyrant?'

Ektalis nodded. 'You are right. We must hide the bodies and send the others back to camp. No one else must know.'

Samis suddenly smiled. 'This is madness,' he said, 'but I'll stand by you. I hate the cursed Makedones — always have.

If I have to die in battle I'd sooner it was while killing those scum.'

'Are we all agreed?' asked Ektalis.

'Aye,' chorused the other seven Korinthians.

'Then let us hide the bodies and return to the cliff-top.'

Parmenion hauled himself clear of the breakers and collapsed on the beach. A wave broke over him, dragging him back, but he dug his fingers into the sand, fighting the undertow. Pushing himself upright he staggered towards the shelter of a shallow cave in the cliff-face. The rain lashed at his tired body and the wind howled around him. The cave was not deep, but the wind was less here and it was dry.

Slumping to the ground he looked back over the storm-lashed sea, but there was no sign of Attalus.

The rain began to ease, the clouds breaking. A thin shaft of sunlight broke through to the east, and a rainbow appeared like a huge bridge across the Gulf. It seemed then that the grey storm-clouds were fleeing from the light, and the sky shone clear blue. Within a few heartbeats the storm was but a memory, the sea clear and calm, the beach and cliffs bathed in sunlight. Parmenion stood and walked out towards the shoreline, his keen eyes scanning the shimmering water. Several bodies lay on the beach and one floated face-down in a shallow pool. They were all sailors from the Makedones trireme.

What now, strategos , he asked himself? What wonderful plan can you conceive?

Hearing a sound behind him he reached for his sword, but the scabbard was empty. Fists clenched he swung round -

to see the giant Gorgon standing with hands on hips, watching him.

'You were to give me my dream,' said the monster softly. 'So tell me, where is Iskander?'

'I am alive,' answered Parmenion, gazing into the glowing eyes. 'You are alive. If Iskander lives, then so too does the dream. If not, then it is finished.'

'I should not have listened to you,' said Gorgon. 'I should have killed you as I first planned. Perhaps I will even now.

That would give me at least some small pleasure.'

'No, it would not,' said Parmenion swiftly. 'For then you would truly have nothing. You have made your decision.

You have set yourself against Philippos for good or ill. There is no turning back for you. Now swallow your anger and let us search for the others.'

'You want me to search the seabed? Even now the crabs are feasting on the child. He was not Iskander.' Lifting his serpent-framed head, Gorgon let out a deafening roar of anger and frustration. Parmenion tensed, waiting for the beast to turn on him.

'Now you see his true soul,' said the voice of Brontes, and Gorgon turned to see the minotaur sitting upon a boulder.

Gone was the man. Once more he was the creature of Enchantment, horned and colossal.

'I should have known you would return to haunt me, brother,' muttered Gorgon. 'What words of comfort do you offer?'

'I have nothing to say to you. But the Human is right. Until we know Iskander is dead we must continue. And I shall

— even if it means continuing in your foul company.'

Gorgon laughed, his good humour curiously restored. 'I shall stay the course. But know this, Human,' he said, turning to Parmenion. 'If the child is dead, you will follow him to Hades.'

Parmenion said nothing, for in that moment the sweet voice of Thena flowed into his mind:

'We are safe, Alexander and I. We are less than an hour's walk to the east of you. Attains is asleep exhausted in the bay just to your west. I cannot locate the centaur.'

'Thank you,' said Parmenion, aloud.

'You thank me for threatening your death?' said Gorgon. 'You are a strange man.'

'The child is alive,' said Parmenion. 'The quest goes on.'

'How do you know this?' Brontes asked.

Parmenion ignored the question. 'I am very weary. But if you are still strong, Brontes, I would be grateful if you could walk to the next bay and bring Attalus to us. He is resting there.'

'It is the witch woman,' said Gorgon. 'She is alive, is she not?'

'Yes,' said Parmenion, with a wide smile. 'Alive.'

'Is she your lover?' enquired the Forest King.

'No.'

'But you would like her to be.'

Parmenion walked away, but the words stayed with him. His heart had leapt when her voice whispered into his mind, and the weight of his emotion surprised him. Put such thoughts from your head, he told himself. She is not a priestess of Aphrodite selling her services for silver.

He lay down in the cave, allowing himself to drift into a healing sleep, but her face stayed in his mind and his thoughts were far from battles and enchantments, plans and strategies.

He dreamt he lay in a grove of oak trees back in Arkadia, where the sun was setting behind the mountains. Beside him lay Thena, her head on his shoulder, and he was at peace. He stroked her hair and kissed her, but as he gazed lovingly at her face it shimmered and changed, becoming Derae.

Guilt touched him then, and the dreams faded.

Unaware of his torment, Derae also experienced the surge of joy when her questing spirit found Parmenion alive, and now her soul flew high above the war-torn land of Achaea, tracing the course of the Gulf as it ran east towards the white-walled city of Korinthos.

Far below her she saw the armies of the Tyrant, the phalanxes and cavalry of the Makedones, mercenary archers from the islands to the south, warriors from Illyria and Thrace; a host geared for slaughter.

She flew to the south, seeking the Sparta of this strange world. But before she reached it she saw another army marching to face the Makedones. Though fewer in number they marched proudly and her Talent reached out to them.

They were the warriors of Kadmos, their city destroyed but their courage remaining. With them were soldiers from Argolis and Messenia, and rebels from Athens and Euboea. She sought out the Spartan force, and found to her surprise that only 300 were from the city.

Mystified, she moved on, flying further south until she hovered over the twin of the city of her birth. So much was the same — the Cattle Price Palace was still there, and the statue of Zeus at the top of the acropolis — but many of the streets were subtly different. The Avenue of Leaving did not boast a statue of Athena, the temple of Aphrodite was nowhere in sight; instead a barracks was built near the sacred lake. Yet, though it was not her home, still it was close enough to bring a touch of sorrow to her soul.