David Gemmell - Dark Prince

Attalus turned away, his emotions boiling with a murderous rage. 'Take him!' he said. 'Take him and be damned!'

For a moment only the priestess stood her ground, then she backed away and led Alexander to the horses, lifting the prince into place and mounting behind him. The Korinthians watched her in silence and Helm strolled to stand beside the mount.

'Where are you going?' he asked softly.

'To the woods. No one will stop me.'

'The boy is important to me. If he is lost, I will die without a past.'

'I know. Yet his destiny is greater than your desire.'

'Not to me, lady.'

'Then you must make a choice, Helm,' she told him, her voice neutral, her expression serene. 'You can draw your sword and stop me. But then the Demon King will have the child. For you cannot hold this hill against the warriors who surround it.'

'That is true enough,' he admitted. 'Ah well, go in peace, lady.' He lifted his hand and patted Alexander's leg. 'I hope you succeed in your quest, boy. I'd hate to die for nothing.'

Alexander nodded, but spoke no word.

Thena tugged on the reins and the horse moved out between the boulders, walking slowly down the hillside. Attalus, Helm and the Korinthians watched her as she rode in plain sight towards the Messenians. No one moved to stop her, nor showed any sign that they could see her, and the Makedonian mare walked through the enemy camp and on towards the trees.

Attalus pulled a whetstone from his hip pouch and began to sharpen his sword.

'Well, at least the enemy have been thwarted,' said Helm.

'That is great consolation to me,' hissed Attalus.

'Are you always this disagreeable?' the warrior responded.

'Only when I am about to die.'

'I see. You don't think we can win, then?'

Attalus swung to face the man, his fury close to madness. Then he saw the wide smile on the metallic face, the mocking look in the bronze eyes. All tension fled from the Macedonian and he smiled with genuine humour. 'How about a wager?' he offered.

'On what?' asked Helm.

'That I slay the most.'

'With what shall we wager? I have no coin.'

'Neither have I. So let's say a thousand gold pieces?'

'You have already killed three to my two,' Helm pointed out. 'I think we should start even, and count them only from the next attack.'

'It is agreed, then?'

'Absolutely,' said Helm.

'They are coming!' yelled Ektalis.

The priestess rode into the shadows of the trees and halted her mount. Alexander was silent, stiff-backed, his body rigid with tension. Gently her Talent reached out to him.

'Leave me!' came the command, with a burst of spiritual energy so powerful that the priestess swayed in the saddle and cried out. The sound of hoofbeats came from all around them as centaurs moved clear of the undergrowth with bows in their hands, arrows notched to the strings.

'Welcome, Iskander,' said one who was tall, white-bearded and maned, his golden skin merged into palomino flanks, his tail long and whiter than fleece clouds. 'My name is Estipan. Follow me and I will take you to the Giant's Gateway.'

'No,' answered Alexander. 'You think I will restore the Enchantment while my friends and those who serve me are dying within my sight? You have watched the battle on the hill. I know this, for my power is great. You, Estipan, were asked whether it was proper to intervene. You told your brother, Orases, that if I were Iskander I would ride clear. Well, I have. Now it is for you to do my bidding.'

Estipan reared up, his front hooves drumming back into the earth, his face crimson. 'You give no orders here!' he shouted. 'You are here to fulfil your destiny.'

'Not so!' responded Alexander. 'I am here to fulfil your destiny. But first you must earn my friendship. You understand that? Deeds, not words. Now order your followers to attack the Messenians. If you do not I shall ride back to die with my friends. And I shall not come again, Estipan, though the Enchantment dies and all her creatures wither away.'

The palomino centaur hesitated, while the others looked to him for guidance. 'If your power is so great,' he said at last, 'why have you not rescued your friends?'

'Because I am testing you,' hissed Alexander. 'Enough of this! Thena, take me back. My quest is at an end.'

'No! If necessary I will take you by force,' roared Estipan.

'Think you so? Come then, coward, and feel the touch of Death!'

'I am no coward!'

'Deeds, not words, Estipan. Do not tell me — show me!'

Estipan reared again. 'Follow me!' he bellowed, and galloped out onto the plain. More than sixty centaurs armed with bows and knives rode after him. Alexander relaxed and sagged back into Thena's arms.

'I am so tired,' he whispered, and she dismounted, lifting him to the ground. There the boy lay down, his head resting on his arm. Within seconds he was asleep. Thena gazed back to the hill. Warriors were swarming up it, looking like ants at this distance. But the centaurs were closing fast.

Reaching out, she linked with Attalus. But she did not speak for he was fighting desperately against several attackers, and she could not risk distracting him. Sitting down on the grass, she allowed her spirit to fly free and sped to the hillside. Only three men were still alive — Helm, Ektalis and the Macedonian — and they had been pushed back to the western wall of boulders.

She saw Helm block a thrust, then send a reverse cut through a warrior's throat. 'Seven!' he shouted. 'You'll never catch me now. Swordsman!'

The words mystified Thena, but she noticed Attalus smile.

Floating higher she watched as the centaurs reached the foot of the hill, their arrows hissing into the Messenians as they scaled the boulders. Panic-stricken, the enemy on the hillside fled to their mounts. But inside the circle of boulders the fight went on. Helm was cut on both arms, and blood was also seeping from a gash in his right thigh.

Attalus had suffered no new wounds, the cut to his forehead having sealed in a jagged red line. Ektalis was unhurt, but tiring fast. Attalus blocked a wild slashing cut and shoulder-charged the attacker. The man went down, but Attalus slipped on the blood-smeared rocks and fell with him. Two warriors ran in to make the kill. Ektalis hurled himself into their path, despatching the first with a powerful thrust through the belly, but the second man's sword hacked down through the back of Ektalis' neck, killing him instantly.

Attalus rolled to his feet and, back to back with Helm, fought on.

A warrior rushed at Attalus, but an arrow-point punched through his temple and he staggered and fell. More shafts hissed through the air and the surviving Messenians scrambled back, hurling aside their swords and retreating. Helm staggered, but Attalus caught his arm, hauling him upright.

'How many?' Attalus asked.

'Nine. You?'

'Six. I owe you a thousand gold pieces.'

'I'd settle for a drink of rich red wine and a soft, soft woman.'

A white-maned centaur trotted across the clearing, stepping carefully over the bodies. 'Iskander sent us,' he said.

Attalus gazed down at the dead Ektalis. 'You were a little late,' he answered sombrely.

Parmenion awoke just before dawn. The room was dark save for a silver shaft of moonlight from the balcony window. He was alone. . and cold. Sitting up, he rubbed the skin of his shoulders. It was like winter and he cast his eyes around the room, seeking a blanket or a cloak. The only warmth he could feel was from the necklet at his throat.

Beyond the shaft of moonlight something stirred and Parmenion rolled from the bed, snatching his sword from its scabbard.

'Show yourself!' he commanded.

A spectral figure moved through the moonlight. The shock was immense. Apart from the golden eye the man was Philip — hair and beard shining like a panther's pelt, movements sure and confident. But it was not Philip, and Parmenion recoiled from the spirit of the Demon King.