'There is the witch!' came a shout.
Derae spun, to see more soldiers running from the tree-line, fanning out to cut off her escape. Turning to the cliff-face, she looked down at the breakers far below as they swept over partially submerged rocks. Taking a deep breath, she loosed her cloak and stood naked on the clifftop.
Then she launched herself out over the dizzying drop. Her body arched, then began to fall. Throwing her arms out to steady herself she felt herself spinning out of control and fought to stay calm, angling her body into a dive. The sea and the rocks rushed towards her and she fell for what seemed an age. At the last moment she brought her hands together, cleaving an opening into the water. The force of the impact drove all air from her lungs, but she missed the rocks and plunged deep below the waves, striking the sandy seabed with bone-crushing force. Pushing her legs beneath her she kicked for the surface, her lungs close to bursting. Up, up she moved towards the sunlight sparkling on the water above her.
I'm going to die! The thought gave her the strength of panic and she clawed her way upwards. As she came clear she only had time for one swift breath before a breaker hammered her down, hitting her body against a rock. This time she was calmer and swam under water, surfacing in the swell and allowing her bruised body to float gently for a while safe from the crashing waves. A spear splashed into the water alongside her, followed by a score of arrows.
Ducking below the surface, she swam out to sea towards a thick white mist that seemed to seep up from beneath the waves.
Then she saw the ship of the dead gliding across the water.
'Parmenion!' she yelled. 'Parmenion!'
The Spartan saw her and — incredibly — the ghost ship slowed, its broken prow swinging towards her. As it neared she reached up to grasp an oar-blade, but it snapped, pushing her below the waves. She surfaced to see Parmenion climbing down over the side of the ship, holding to an oar-port and stretching his arm towards her. Grasping his wrist, she felt herself lifted from the sea. Scrabbling for a foothold her heel came down on a rotting skull which cracked and rolled into the water, but then she was up beside Parmenion. His arm went around her, pulling her into a hug as he kissed her brow tenderly.
'It is good to see you,' he said.
'And now you are seeing too much of me,' she answered, pulling away and climbing to the deck.
Attalus removed his cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders. 'Welcome back, lady,' said the swordsman. 'You are a most welcome sight.'
'Thank you, Attalus.' The warmth of his greeting surprised her and she returned his smile. Parmenion clambered over the deck rail and was about to speak when Gorgon's voice rang out.
'There is a ship to the west! A trireme!'
The companions moved to the deck rail and stared at the oncoming vessel. It was almost forty lengths back, but all three banks of oars were dipping smoothly into the water, the ship moving at ramming speed towards them.
'Fasinating craft,' observed Attalus to Derae. 'See the bronze ram just ahead of the prow? That can rip a ship's hull worse than a reef.'
'Can we outrun them?' Parmenion asked Gorgon.
The Forest King chuckled and pointed to the corpses all around them. 'My crew have seen better days,' he said, 'but we shall see.'
From below decks came a terrible groaning and the oars lifted and dipped into the swell. Attalus looked over the side to see skeletal hands gripping the rotted wood. The ship picked up speed — but not enough to escape the chasing trireme.
'Swing her left!' bellowed Parmenion.
The corpse at the tiller rolled to the right, the death ship veering left. The attacking trireme slid past them, her rowers desperately dragging in their oars. Most were saved but the death ship clove into twenty or more, snapping them like sticks.
Arrows flashed from the decks of the trireme. Parmenion threw himself at Derae, pulling her to the deck. A shaft glanced from Attalus' helm. Then the ships drew apart once more. The mist thickened around them as the death ship glided into the ghostly cloud.
For an hour or more they sailed on in silence, listening to the calls of the enemy as they searched the mist-shrouded sea. The clouds above them darkened, lightning forking across the sky as the sound of thunder boomed across the gulf.
Rain lashed down — the death ship was faltering, slowing.
'My magic is almost gone,' confided Gorgon. 'Soon she will break up and sink — for the second time.'
They were less than a mile from land, but the storm was against them.
The mist fled against the force of the storm winds. As Parmenion glanced back, the trireme hove into view.
Lightning flashed once more, glinting from the bronze ram at the prow as it clove the water towards the death ship's hull.
Alexander crouched down on the windswept deck, holding hard to a wooden post as the death ship rose and fell in the surging storm-tossed sea. From here he could only see the chasing trireme when the huge swell lifted the prow. A massive wave hit the death ship, a section of the upper deck collapsing under the weight of the water. Camiron lost his grip on the broken mast and was swept towards the raging sea. Alexander screamed, but no one heard him above the roar of the storm. Seeing Camiron in peril, Brontes threw himself across the rain-lashed deck, grabbing the centaur's hand. For a moment it seemed as if the former minotaur had succeeded, but the ship rolled and a second wave broke over them, plucking both from the deck.
Alexander tried to stand, hoping to reach Parmenion at the stern, but he slipped and almost lost his grip on the post.
Thena made her way to him, holding him tightly.
'Camiron is gone!' wailed the prince. Thena nodded, but said nothing. Another section of deck, close to the prow, sheared away into the sea.
Alexander reached out with his spirit, trying to locate Camiron.
At first there was nothing, but then his mind was filled with the sweetest music he had ever heard. High-pitched and joyous, it forced all thoughts of the centaur from his mind. The ship shuddered, the rotten wood groaning under the onslaught of the storm, but Alexander heard nothing save the ethereal song from below the sea. He let the music drift across his thoughts, waiting for his talent to translate it. But it was almost beyond his powers. There were no words, merely emotions, rich and satisfying. Reaching out further he sought the source, but the sound came from all around him in a harmony beyond imagining. When he had heard birds singing in the trees he had been able to fasten to each, for they were individual. But this music was different. The singers were empathically linked.
The death ship foundered, water gushing in through the open oarports. The deck split in half, the sea roaring around the child and the priestess. Alexander's hands were torn from their grip on the post.
Thena tried to hold on to him but the ship rolled, spilling them both into the water. Alexander felt the sea close over him, but still the music filled his soul.
As he sank beneath the waves he felt a soft, curiously warm body alongside him, bearing him up. His head broke clear of the surface and he sucked in a deep breath, his hands thrashing out at the water as he struggled to stay afloat.
A dark grey form surfaced alongside him, a curved fin on its back. He grabbed for the fin, holding to it with all his strength. The dolphin flicked its tail and swam towards the distant shore, the music of its song washing over the child and soothing all his fears.