David Gemmell - Dark Prince

'I do not pretend to know your pain,' said the Spartan, 'and it would be trite to point out that we all carry scars. But I will do all that I can to fulfil my promise to you. Iskander tells me he is the chosen one. I believe that, and I will risk my life to see that he has the chance to prove it. But that is the greater quest, Gorgon, and for another day. Today we are a small group, battling for survival, and friendship is not to be spurned — not even by a child of the Titans.'

'You seek to lecture me?' hissed Gorgon.

'Perhaps I do. Perhaps your years in the slime of the dark forest have affected your perceptions.'

Gorgon nodded. 'Perhaps they have,' he conceded, his voice carrying no conviction. Then he smiled. 'Or perhaps I am now what I always was, a distorted monstrosity.'

'If that were true, would Persephone have loved you?'

'You do not understand, Human. How could you? The war was terrible and we all committed acts which would turn your soul to ashes. There is no escape from those memories. My brother Brontes is correct — you do not know what I have done, what colossal evils are stamped upon the pages of history in my name.'

'Nor do I need to,' answered Parmenion, 'for you are right that they would change my thoughts of you. But that was yesterday and whatever is hidden in the past can remain there. Today you stand on the side of the just, and seek to save the people of the Enchantment. And yes, if you succeed it will not wash away the evil of the past, but it will give at least some hope for a future.'

'How can we succeed,' asked Gorgon, 'when all the forces of Philippos are ranged against us?'

'We are not talking of defeating Philippos in a battle. We are speaking of opening the Giant's Gateway. If the Spartans can hold the Demon King for a little while, we can bring Iskander to his destiny.'

Gorgon sighed. 'I will not travel on with you, Human. Now that you are — for the moment — safe I will return to the forest to gather what followers remain and bring them to the Gateway.'

'How will you bring them all across the Gulf?'

'We will not cross the Gulf. We will travel the old paths, between Achaea and Hades. No Human may pass them and keep his sanity. But my. . people. . can walk them. I have played my part, Human. I have brought you across the sea. Now it is for you to bring Iskander to the Gateway.'

'We will succeed or die, my lord. It is all we can do. But let us, at least, part as friends.'

'Why is that important to you?'

'It is important to both of us,' answered Parmenion, extending his hand.

Gorgon glanced down at it, then looked into Parmenion's eyes. 'I have said it before, but you are a strange man, and I do not remember the last time I talked of friendship.' His arm came up, his fingers gripping Parmenion's hand, and they stood for a moment in silence.

Then the Forest King waded out into the sea and began to swim.

It was late afternoon before Brontes returned with Attalus. The swordsman's face was bruised, his right eye swollen where a wave had dashed him against the rocks, but he did not complain as he sank down beside Parmenion.

'It was difficult to rouse him,' said Brontes, 'but he refused my offer to carry him.'

'I am glad to see you alive,' said Parmenion, gripping the Macedonian's shoulder.

Attalus smiled. 'You saved my life. I shall not forget it. The breastplate would have killed me. What now?'

'We will find the others and make our way south.'

'And after that?'

'I do not know.'

Attalus nodded. 'No, of course not. It is just. . well, I am used to you, strategos . And my faith in your talents grows day by day.'

'I cannot see why. After all, I failed to get the trees to uproot and march with us.'

Attalus chuckled. 'Forgive me for that, Spartan, but that cursed forest seeped into my soul. By all the gods, I swear it is good to be back in the sunlight. Brontes tells me Alexander is safe?'

'Yes,' answered Parmenion. 'And now it is time to find him. But first I must speak with Brontes.' The Spartan rose and walked to where the minotaur sat on a boulder overlooking the sea.

'Where is my brother?' Brontes asked.

'Gone.'

Brontes nodded. 'I thought he might stay the course. But what can you expect from such a creature?'

'He told me he was returning to gather his forces, and that he would bring them to the Giant's Gateway. I think that he will.'

The minotaur lifted his head and laughed. 'You cannot trust him, Parmenion. He is a creature of darkness.'

'We shall see. But we must proceed as if we do believe him.'

'Why?'

'Because if Gorgon does lead his beasts towards the south it is likely the people of the Enchantment will think he is attacking them.'

'As he probably will,' Brontes muttered.

'Listen to me: put aside your hate. I need you to travel alone to the woods around the Gateway. I want you to prepare the way for Gorgon.'

'Never! He is a traitor and a killer.'

'Then I shall see Iskander does not fulfil his destiny.'

The minotaur stormed to his feet. 'You dare to threaten me, Human?' he raged.

'Yes,' answered Parmenion. 'What is wrong with you? The war is over — and he is your brother. Without his aid none of us would be alive.'

'For his own purposes he helped us. Do not forget that!'

'And are you any different? Did you not threaten to kill me? You are only here because of Iskander.'

'You don't understand! Gorgon killed my children and raped my. . our. . mother. There is no good in him. He was born in darkness and he thrives on it. And you want me to prepare the way? Better for the Enchantment to die than for a creature like him to benefit from its return.'

'You do not believe that,' whispered Parmenion. 'That is the voice of your hatred. We are not talking here about your grief, or your bitterness. We are considering the future of all the people of the Enchantment. You have no right to make decisions concerning them. You are a dying race with one hope of survival: Iskander. Now go to the woods and do what must be done.'

'You will deny us Iskander if I refuse?'

'No,' admitted Parmenion. 'I will not deny you. That was the voice of my anger. Will you do as I ask?'

'I will think on it,' promised Brontes, but he looked away as he spoke, avoiding Parmenion's eyes.

Helm was the first to see the two men emerge from the tree-line and walk towards the waiting group. He studied them as they approached, his hand resting lightly on his sword-hilt. The nine Korinthians all stood, but the golden-haired child shouted a name and began to run towards the newcomers.

The first of the men leaned forward to sweep the child into his arms. He had no sword, Helm noticed, but he moved like a warrior, smoothly and always in balance. The second man was pale-eyed, his movements cat-like and sure.

The lion and the wolf, thought Helm.

The taller man lowered the child to the ground, ruffling his hair, then swung his gaze over the waiting warriors, coming at last to Helm. There was no expression in his blue eyes as he saw the face of bronze.

The Korinthians were waiting, but the newcomer strolled directly to Helm. 'Who are you?' he asked, the tone easy, the question spoken without a sign of arrogance yet with quiet authority. Here, thought Helm, is a man used to command.

'I wish I could tell you. But I know nothing of my past, save that I was told to find the child.'

'For what purpose?'

'I do not know that either — but it was not to do him harm.'

'My name is Parmenion. If you ride with me, you follow my orders. If that should not suit you, then you can leave now.'

'It suits me,' answered Helm easily.

The man smiled and nodded, then turned to the Korinthians, singling out Ektalis. 'My thanks to you, sir, for helping the boy. You and your men have risked much, and I applaud your courage. I see there are enough horses for all of us, and I think it wise we move south before continuing our conversation. The enemy is closing in on us even as we speak.'