David Gemmell - Lion of Macedon

The Spartan heard sounds of footfalls in the corridor outside, and listened as the door of the bedchamber opened. Moving to the hangings between the rooms he drew them tight, then took water to the King. Philip's eyes were swollen and bleary. 'They are here, sire,' whispered Parmenion. 'You must stir yourself.' Philip took the water, which spilled to his naked chest. He tried to drink but his head sagged back, the goblet falling from his hand.

Parmenion cursed softly. It was beyond belief. He had watched Philip on many drinking bouts; the man's capacity for wine or ale was legendary. Never had Parmenion seen him like this. And after only two pitchers of wine? It was inconceivable.

The smell of sweet incense drifted through the hangings and he heard the acolytes withdraw from the chamber. Silently he crept across the room, opening a small gap in the drapes. The room beyond was lit by yellow-flamed lanterns and the naked form of Olympias lay on the broad bed. She was writhing and moaning softly.

Parmenion cursed again and returned to the King.

The hour was upon them.

And Philip lay in a drunken stupor.

Derae slipped from the palace after the torch-lit procession had passed by. Swiftly she made for the hills and the old stone circle half hidden by the trees of the apple orchard. Her spirits were high and she fought to stem the heady sensation of victory.

'I did it, Tamis,' she whispered. 'I stopped him. There will be no Dark God!'

Running down a hillside she saw the darkness of the trees looming. Her spirit eyes caught a flicker of movement in the shadows and she dropped to her knees, waiting, scouring the trees.

There! By the undergrowth to the right.

Derae's spirit swept into the sky, hovering over the trees. A young woman in black robes was waiting, knife in hand. Derae flew to the left, but another woman crouched there, similarly armed.

Returning to her body Derae retraced her steps up to the hill-top — then made an angling run to the left. She was only a few minutes from the stone circle. Once there, no assassin could follow.

She could hear her pursuers crashing through the undergrowth, shouting to other, unseen, companions.

Suddenly she sensed Aida!

Darkness fell on her like a cloak thrown over her head. She was blind! Panic swept through her as, falling to her hands and knees, she crawled forward. Leaves brushed her face. Her fingers ran over the bush. It was thick and high. Crawling into its centre, she pulled the branches around her, scooping dead leaves and dirt over her robe.

Then her spirit rose again.

Her blindness remained, but now her concentration deepened. Fire blazed from her eyes and the Spell of Darkness gave way.

A scaled hand lanced for her face, talons sinking deep into her spirit flesh. The pain was agonizing, but her own hand came up to grip the reptilian wrist. Flames burned along the length of the arm, sweeping down over the demon and enveloping him in fire.

In an instant Derae was armoured in breastplate and greaves of white silver, a Spartan helm on her head, and in her hand a sword of blinding starlight.

'Where are you, Aida?' she called. 'Face me if you dare!'

'I dare, child,' came the whispering sound of Aida's voice and Derae spun to see the dark-cloaked woman hovering nearby. Aida smiled. 'Foolish girl to come here in the flesh. Even now the sharp knives are closing in on your hiding-place. Fly to it, Derae!'

'I have beaten you,' Derae shouted. 'It does not matter if I die.'

'And how have you beaten me, child? I am still here.'

'There will be no Dark Birth,' answered Derae, glancing down to where the acolytes were searching the undergrowth, moving ever closer to her hidden body. She did not want to die and fought to contain her fear.

Aida's laughter cut through her like a cold knife. 'You think a child — even a talented child -

can thwart the powers of Kadmilos?' She raised her arms. Black snakes fountained from her finger-tips, hissing through the night air to cover Derae in a writhing mass, their fangs glittering in the moonlight.

Ignoring the pain, Derae closed her eyes. The snakes changed colour, shifting from black to red, their shapes twisting into tiny circles, until they fell from her as rose-petals, drifting down to the ground.

'You cannot harm me,' said Derae softly. 'Whereas. .'

A dazzling sphere of light blazed up around Aida, trapping her at its centre. Derae fled for her body just as an acolyte discovered it.

The knife-blade swept down but Derae's hand grabbed the wrist. Rolling to her knees, the priestess lashed her fist into the woman's face, hurling her back. Then she was up and sprinting for the stone circle.

Behind her the pursuers screamed their hatred. Derae ran on. A hurled knife flashed by her head as she leapt over a fallen stone column. Turning in the centre of the circle she raised her arms. The world shimmered. As the Gateway closed around her, she heard Aida's voice whisper in her mind.

'There will be another time, my dove!'

Olympias lay on the silk-covered bed, her body floating on a sea of pleasure, her skin tingling, her mind exploding with colours. She licked her lips, running her fingers over her breasts and belly, aware of an almost painful desire.

'Philip!' she called. The room was spinning, the drugs in her system approaching the height of their powers. She had danced at the fire, felt the touch and caress of a score of acolytes, their lips soft and sweet with wine. The secrets of the Third Mystery had come to her with the music of the night, the breeze from the distant, holy peak of Korifi Fengari. She would give birth to a god-king, a man of awesome talents. His name would echo throughout history, his deeds remaining unequalled as long as the stars hung in the sky. 'Philip!'

Even in her drugged state she could feel the passing of time — sense that the mystical hour was almost spent. She rolled to her side.

The curtains parted.

There he stood, naked but for his cloak and the ram-horned helm of Kadmilos. He strode towards her and she opened her arms. For a moment he stood and gazed at her body, then harshly he entered her.

She screamed, her hands pulling at his back, the metal mask of the helm cold against her face.

Her fingers moved up to touch the metal, stroking the black horns.

His head lifted and she found herself gazing into the eyes within the helm. Then the drugs overwhelmed her and she slid into darkness, her last thought a strange one.

In the lantern light Philip's green eyes seemed — impossibly — to have changed to blue.

Derae awoke just before noon. Throwing back the sheet, she moved to the window, her heart light.

She had seen Parmenion and she had destroyed the plans of Aida. Today she would leave the temple and journey to Macedonia, there to await Parmenion's return.

She knew now that he still loved her, and they would at least have many years to enjoy together.

She felt young again, full of life and laughter.

It had been so easy to drug Philip's wine. All the years of fear had been so unnecessary.

The sun was warm on her face — but at her back she felt the blast of cold air and turned swiftly.

A shadow was growing on the wall by the door, swelling like a winged demon. Derae prepared herself for the attack, but it did not come, the shadows swirling into a cloak around the spirit form of Aida.

'What do you want here?' Derae asked.

'I wanted to thank you,' said Aida. 'Without your help, and that of your miserable predecessor, my dreams could not have been fulfilled.' The hooded woman laughed, the sound chilling. 'You can walk the paths of the past and the future. Walk them now — and weep, my dove!'