'There is no time,' Aristotle shouted.
Ignoring him, Parmenion edged to the right.
At the centre of the boulders lay a young woman, chains of fire holding her arms pinned to the rocks. Several skeletal birds were pecking at her flesh, peeling it back in bloody strips which healed instantly. Parmenion ran at the birds, shouting and waving his arms; they rose from the body, wings clicking. His sword smashed one to shards, the rest flying clear. Kneeling down he gently touched the woman's face, lifting her head.
'I know you, do I not?' he said, as her eyes focused on him.
'Yes,' she answered weakly, her voice dreamlike. 'I showed you my youth when you were in Thebes.
Are you a dream, Parmenion?'
'No, lady.' Extending his sword, he touched the blade to the chains of fire which fell away.
Sheathing the weapon, he helped Tamis to her feet.
Aristotle ran to his side. 'I tell you there is no time for this. The demons are gathering.'
The child is born?' Tamis asked.
'Not yet,' answered Parmenion. 'Come with us.' Taking her arm, he led her up the slope. Far behind them the shadows were gathering, merging, like a dark river flowing towards the mountain.
Higher they climbed, and here a cold wind whispered through the rocks. The light was closer now -
a flame of pure white as tall as a man, burning upon a black boulder. Around it the skeletal birds were circling, their high-pitched cries echoing across the mountain.
A darker shadow formed by the fire. . growing, spreading.
'Aida!' whispered Tamis, running forward.
The Dark Woman raised her arms. Darkness oozed from her fingers to flow over the fire, which guttered, shrinking down until it was merely the size of a lantern-flame.
'No!' screamed Tamis. Aida spun, dark spears flashing from her hands. A golden shield appeared on Tamis' left arm, the spears glancing from it. Aristotle tore open his tunic, his hand circling a tiny golden stone hanging from a chain of silver. The flame on the boulder rose into the air, struggling free of the dark slime which was seeking to smother it.
'Take it, Parmenion,' shouted the magus. The Spartan ran towards the flame, which floated on to his outstretched hand, settling upon his palm. There was no sensation of heat, yet an inner warmth touched Parmenion's heart and the flame grew, curling in on itself, becoming a globe of soft white light.
Tamis and Aida flew at each other. Lightning blazed from Tamis' eyes, searing through the robes of the Dark Woman. Aida fell back — and vanished. Tamis turned to Parmenion, her hands trembling above the globe.
'It is the unborn child,' she said, 'the child of your flesh. I understand now. Kadmilos must kill it, or for ever share the body.' Her fingers touched the globe, the light spreading over her hands. 'Oh, Parmenion! He is so beautiful.'
'What can we do?' the Spartan asked, turning to glance down the mountain where the demons were gathering — some walking, others slithering across the stones, their cries drifting on the cold wind.
Aristotle moved alongside him. 'I believe Mount Thanatos is close by. If I am correct there is a gateway to the Elysian Fields, the Halls of Heroes. But they might not let us enter.'
'Why should they not?' Parmenion asked.
'We are not dead,' answered Aristotle, forcing a smile. 'At least not yet.'
'Look!' said Tamis, pointing down the mountain where dark-armoured warriors on skeletal horses were riding towards them.
'The Gateway, then,' agreed Parmenion. The sphere burning brightly in his hand, he started to run up the slope, the two sorcerers close behind.
Isle of Samothrace
'Still she interferes,' hissed Aida, opening the eyes of her body and rising from the ebony throne.
'What happened, mistress?' whispered her acolyte, Poris. The woman in the black robes stared down at the kneeling girl.
'There are three who struggle against us, keeping the child alive. Tamis — curse her — and the man Parmenion. There is another also, a man I do not know. Wait beside me!' Once more the Dark Woman closed her eyes, her body slumping back against the ebony throne. The slender acolyte took Aida's hand, touching her lips to it.
For some time she sat stroking Aida's fingers, then the Dark Woman sighed. 'The man is a magus.
His body lies waiting for him at the healer's temple. The woman Derae lies there also, her soul in Pella holding Parmenion's body among the living. Well, they have stretched themselves thin, my dear. Very thin. And it is time they died.'
'You will send the Nighthunters, mistress?'
'Three should be sufficient. There is only an old man guarding their bodies. Walk with me, my pretty one.'
Poris followed her mistress out into the cold stone corridors of the palace and down to the torchlit tunnels below. Aida opened a leaf-shaped door and entered a small room; it was empty of furniture, save for a raised stone slab at the centre. Aida traced her fingers on the carved lettering there. 'Do you know what this says?' she asked Poris.
'No, my lady.'
'It is Accadian, carved before the dawn of our history. It is an incantation. Tell me,' she asked, laying her hand on the girl's shoulder, 'do you love me?'
'More than life,' the girl assured her.
'Good,' answered Aida, pulling her into a tight embrace, 'and I love you, child. You are more than a daughter to me. But Kadmilos must be served, and his well-being is all that concerns me.' The slender dagger plunged into Poris' back, through the ribs and into the heart. The girl stiffened, then sagged into Aida's arms.
The woman in black eased the corpse on to the slab and began to speak the words of power. Smoke rose from the letters engraved on the stone, covering the dead girl. A foul smell filled the room, the stench of decay. Aida waved her hand and the smoke drew back into the rock. All that now lay upon the slab was a tracing of white-grey ashes.
Shadows danced on the dark walls, grotesque shapes which once had been men.
Moving to each of them, she touched her hand to their misshapen brows. 'The temple is unprotected,' she told them. 'Find the body of the woman Derae and devour her flesh — and all with her.'
The shadows faded.
Aida walked to the slab, dipping her fingers into the ashes.
'I shall miss you, Poris,' she murmured.
Cresting the mountain, the hunted trio ran down the scree-covered slopes. Tamis fell and slid towards a precipice, but Aristotle hurled himself in her path, seizing her white robes and hauling her to safety.
On they sped, the cries of their pursuers coming ever closer. From above them came the sound of leather wings and Parmenion glanced up to see huge shapes hovering around them — their skins scaled, their forms barely human. But they did not attack and the Spartan ignored them as he ran on.
To the left!' shouted Aristotle, pointing to a pass between rearing black peaks.
Behind them the ghostly riders were closing fast. Parmenion risked a glance back over his shoulder, then returned his gaze to the pass ahead.
They were not going to succeed. With a muttered curse he halted and spun, sword in hand, to meet the enemy. There were more than twenty riders, faces hidden by the winged helms they wore. In their hands swords of red name glittered like torches.
Tamis came alongside Parmenion. 'Go on, I will hold them,' she cried.
'I cannot leave you to face them alone.'
'GO!' she shouted. 'The soul-flame is everything.'
For a moment only he hesitated, then turned and ran on. The riders swept towards the seeress and her hands came up, white fire blazing across the Void to hurl four demons from their mounts. The rest charged on, sweeping out to pass Tamis by. Once more the lightning flared, scything through the first rank, the long-dead horses collapsing with bones cracking and splitting.