Others wished to swim in the depths of the sea. All manner of hybrids graced the earth.' Chiron lapsed into silence, his eyes focused on the past.
'What happened then?' whispered Alexander.
'What always happens, boy. There was a great war, a time of astonishing cruelty and carnage. A vast amount of the world's magic was used up in that terrible confrontation. Look around you and see the trees. It would seem impossible that they could all be cut down. But if Man sets his mind to a matter he will achieve it, no matter how destructive. What I am saying is that all things are finite — even magic. The war went on for centuries, and now there are only pockets of true power. This wood is one, but out there in the New World of Men the stones are empty, the brooks and hills devoid of magic. So the children of the Titans — those who survive anyway — are drawn to these few areas of Enchantment, held to them by chains stronger than death.'
'You make it sound so sad,' said Alexander. 'Will the magic not come back?'
'Perhaps. One day, like a perfect flower, it might seed itself and grow again. But I doubt it.' Chiron sighed. 'And even if it does, Man will corrupt it. It is the way of all things. No, better for it to fade away.'
'But if it does, will not the centaurs die with it?'
'Indeed they will, and the nymphs and satyrs, the dryads and cyclopses. But so also will the Vores and the gorgons, the hydras and the birds of death. For not all the creatures of Enchantment are benign. However,' he said, rising, 'that is enough of my world for one day. Tell me of yours.'
They talked on for some time, but Alexander could tell him little of interest and became aware of a growing irritation within the magus. 'What is wrong?' the boy enquired at last. 'Does my lack of knowledge displease you?'
'Pah! It is not you, child,' replied Chiron, rising and walking away down the mountainside. Alexander ran after him, taking his hand.
'Tell me!' pleaded the prince. Chiron stopped and knelt before the boy, his expression softening.
'I have a dream, Alexander. I hoped you could help me in my pursuit of it. But you are very young and you know so little. It is not your fault. Indeed, I cannot imagine any other four-year-old who would know so much.'
'What are you seeking?'
'A world without evil,' answered Chiron sadly, 'and other impossibilities. Now wait for me at the cave. I need to walk for a while, to think and to plan.'
Alexander watched him walk away down the mountain to vanish into the trees, then the boy climbed up to the cave-mouth and sat for a while enjoying the sunshine.
Hunger at last forced him to move and he walked through the wall of illusion, entering the palace beyond and making his way to the kitchens where he ate honey-cakes and dried fruit. He had seen no servants here, yet the food was replenished every day. His interest aroused, Alexander strolled out into the palace grounds, seeking signs of life.
But there were no tracks in the soft earth, save those that he made himself, and he returned to the palace where he wandered aimlessly from room to room, bored and lonely.
For a time he looked at the scrolls and books in one of the many library rooms. But these were of little interest, inscribed as they were with symbols he could not read. At last he came to a small room, western-facing, where he found a circular table covered with a velvet cloth. At first he thought the table was cast from solid gold, but as he examined the six ornate legs he realized they were carved from wood and overlaid with thick gold-leaf. Climbing on a chair he pulled aside the velvet and gazed down on a jet-black surface, so dark it reflected no light, and it seemed he was staring down into an enormous well. Reaching out he tentatively touched the table — and recoiled, as dark ripples spread across the surface, lapping at the raised perimeter.
Fascinated, he touched it again. It was colder than snow and yet curiously comforting.
The surface lightened, becoming blue. Then a cloud moved across it. Alexander laughed aloud. 'There should be birds,' he shouted. Obedient to his wishes the scene rolled on and he saw swans flying in formation across the sky.
'Wonderful!' he cried. 'Now where is the land?' The image rolled once more, making the boy dizzy so that he gripped the edges of the table to steady himself. But now he saw the forest as if from a great height, the trees clinging to the mountains like green smoke. 'Show me Chiron!' he commanded.
A figure loomed into life. It was the magus sitting beside a stream, flipping stones into the water. His expression was sorrowful and Alexander felt a sudden stab of guilt for intruding on Chiron's solitude.
'Show me Philippos!' he said.
The mirror table darkened and he saw an army camped before a burning city, dark tents highlighted by the distant flames. The image settled on a huge tent at the centre of the camp, moving inside to where the King was seated on a black throne of carved ebony.
Around him, kneeling at his feet, were dark-robed priests. One of them was speaking, but the boy could hear nothing.
Pale shapes moved at the edge of the mirror, and Alexander felt an icy touch of dread as creatures of nightmare crept forward to surround the King. Their skin was fish-white, their eyes dark and hooded, their heads bald, the crown of the scalp raised in ridges of sharp bone. Scaled wings grew from their shoulder-blades and their hands were hooked into talons.
'Closer!' ordered the boy.
A ghastly face, in silhouette, filled the mirror and Alexander could see that the teeth inside the lipless mouth were pointed and sharp, rotting and green at the purple gums. Suddenly the creature's head turned — the dark shining eyes, with their slitted pupils, staring up at the child.
'He cannot see me,' Alexander whispered.
The mirror exploded outwards as a taloned hand flashed up, sinking into the boy's tunic and scoring the flesh beneath. The prince found himself dragged forward into the mirror and screamed, his hands scrabbling at the scaled arm.
The killing power surged from his fingers with such power that the arm holding him was turned instantly to dust.
Throwing himself back Alexander toppled to the floor, the taloned hand still clinging to his tunic. Ripping it loose, he flung it across the floor and then swiftly gathered the velvet covering, hurling it over the mirror table.
As he did so there came a sound like a low groan, which formed into a terrible sentence.
'I know where you are, child,' came the voice of Philippos, 'and there is no escape.'
Alexander sped from the room. His foot caught the edge of a flagstone and he tumbled to the floor, grazing his knees. Tears fell now as this fresh pain unleashed his fears. They are coming for me, his mind screamed at him. Up the long stairs he ran, heart beating wildly, until at last he emerged from the cave-mouth into the sunshine.
Scanning the skies for signs of the scaled creatures he sank to a rock in the sunshine, shivering uncontrollably.
A centaur carrying a bow and quiver trotted from the tree-line, saw him and cantered up the mountainside. It was the white-bearded leader with the palomino flanks. He halted before the child.