Dark Prince

'What in Hades are you doing?' stormed Attalus.

'No fires!' hissed Gorgon.

'Why? Is this not your forest?' responded the swordsman. 'What should we fear?'

'Everything,' answered Gorgon, stalking towards Parmenion. 'The Makedones have entered the forest,' he said, his eyes glittering. 'There are more than a thousand warriors, split into five groups. Two are behind us, two to the east and one ahead.'

'Do they know where we are?'

'I believe that they do. Many of the Vores have deserted me and joined the Makedones. There is little loyalty in this forest, Human. I rule because I am the strongest, and my crown is secure only so long as I am feared. But the Vores fear Philippos more. So they should, for his power is greater than mine.'

'When will we reach the sea?'

'Two days — if we travel fast. Three if we are careful.'

Parmenion shook his head. 'Brontes will not survive three days.'

Gorgon's mouth stretched into the parody of a smile, the snakes on his head rising with fangs bared.

'What does that matter? All that is important is that Iskander reaches the Gateway. And that is now doubtful. This forest is my domain and my strength — yet it is taxing my powers to the limit to keep Philippos from finding us. The bony woman with you is also nearing exhaustion, shielding us. But we are tiring, Human. And when our magic is drained there will not be a place in this forest to hide. Do you understand? At this moment the priestess and I have covered the forest with a spirit mist, and we are hidden within it. But every hour that passes sees the Demon King cutting away at our defences. Soon it will be like a storm wind dispersing our mist, and we will stand in the full view of the golden eye. I cannot concern myself with the small problem of Brontes' life.' Gorgon lay down, closing his eyes. 'We will rest for two hours,' he said softly, 'then push on through the night.'

Parmenion walked back to the dead fire where Alexander was sleeping peacefully beside the centaur, Camiron.

Removing his cloak Parmenion covered the child, pausing to stroke the boy's head.

Attalus saw him, his eyes narrowing, but he masked his feelings as Parmenion joined him. 'Why is the beast so nervous?' asked the Macedonian, flicking his hand towards the sleeping Gorgon.

'A thousand Makedones have entered the forest.'

'Only a thousand? Surely they will prove no problem for the strategos? What will you do this time? Summon the birds from the trees to our aid? Or perhaps the trees themselves will uproot and march to your orders?'

'Your anger is misdirected,' Parmenion pointed out. 'I am not your enemy.'

'Ah! A friend, I suppose? That is an amusing thought.'

Parmenion turned away to see the tall priestess watching them both. Her voice whispered into his mind:

'We are being watched by a priest of Philippos. They have broken through our defences and he is listening to your words, relaying them to the Demon King.'

Parmenion gave no sign that he had heard her and swung back to Attalus. 'I know you find this hard to believe, Attalus, but, I say again, I am not your enemy. And here, in this dread place, I am indeed your friend. We will stay here for two more days, then strike east — back across the mountains. Once clear of this forest you will feel more easy in your mind. It is the evil that gnaws at you. Believe me.'

'What gnaws at me is none of your concern,' hissed Attalus.

'He is gone!' pulsed Thena. 'Gorgon drove him back.'

Parmenion leaned in close to the Macedonian. 'Now you listen to me, there are enemies all around us and — if we are to survive — we must be together in spirit and strength. You think me your foe? Perhaps I am. But here I must depend on you. And you must trust me. Without that our hopes — slender as they are — will prove to be for nothing. We were both threatened by the Chaos Spirit. But I choose to ignore his words. He does not know the future — and I will always be the master of my fate. As will you-for we are men of strength. Now. . can I trust you?'

'Why ask the question? You would not believe me if I told you what you wanted to hear.'

'You are wrong, Attalus. Say the words and I will believe them.'

The swordsman smiled. 'Then you can trust me,' he said. 'Does that satisfy you?'

'Yes. Now we will rest for two hours — and then find a path west and south.'

'But you said. .'

'I changed my mind.'

'You cannot trust him,' Thena pulsed, but Parmenion ignored her.

Stretching out on the cold ground, he closed his eyes. All around them, as he had said, there were deadly enemies, moving in from three sides and guided by the malevolent power of the Makedones King. The Spartan considered his allies: a dying minotaur, a priestess, a twisted assassin and a Forest King steeped in evil.

His thoughts were not hopeful, his dreams full of torment.

* * *

Attalus lay awake, his thoughts confused. The threat from the demon nagged at him, burning in his mind with fingers of fire. It would be so easy to creep across the camp-site and draw his dagger across the boy's throat. Then the threat would be neutralized. And yet the child was the son of Philip — the only man whose friendship Attalus had ever desired.

I need no friends, he told himself. But the words echoed in his mind, flat and unconvincing. Life without Philip was worth nothing. He was the sun, the only warmth the swordsman had known since childhood.

He need not know you slew his child. Now this thought was tempting. At some point he could lure Alexander away from the others and kill him silently. Breaking Philip's heart in the process.

As Attalus rolled to his side the darkness was lifting, thin beams of moonlight piercing the overhanging trees. There came a sound, a soft swishing, like a stick cutting the air, and Attalus looked up to see a Vore gliding down from the upper branches of a tall pine. The creature landed lightly, moving silently towards the sleeping Alexander.

The swordsman did not move. Wings folded, the Vore leaned over the child, reaching out. .

Here, thought Attalus exultantly, was deliverance!

The creature's taloned hands dropped towards Alexander. Attalus' dagger flashed through the air, glittering in the moonlight to plunge into the Vore's back. The beast let out a high-pitched shriek. One wing flared out, but the second was pinned to its back by the jutting dagger. Gorgon surged to his feet and ran towards the Vore. The dying creature stumbled, pitching face-first to the ground. Parmenion and the others, awakened by the Vore's screams, gathered around the still twitching corpse.

Attalus stepped past them, ripping clear his dagger.

'Be careful,' snapped Gorgon, 'the blood is poisonous. One touch and you will die.' Attalus plunged the blade into the earth at his feet cleaning the dagger on the moss before returning it to its sheath.

Gorgon flipped the Vore to its back. 'He was one of mine,' he said. 'It is time to leave.'

'You saved me,' said Alexander, moving alongside Attalus and gazing up into the swordsman's face.

'Are you surprised, my prince?'

'Yes,' answered the boy.

'Are you?' Attalus asked Parmenion.

The Spartan shook his head. 'Why should I be? Did you not give me your word?'

'Spoken words are small noises that vanish in the air,' said Attalus softly. 'Do not put your faith in words.'

'If that were true, you would not have intervened,' countered Parmenion.

Attalus had no answer and swung away, his thoughts full of guilt and self-loathing. How could you be so stupid, he railed at himself? Moving back to his bed he gathered the cloak he had used for a blanket, brushing the dirt from it and fastening it once more to his shoulders with the brooch of turkis given to him by Philip.