‘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.
486
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.’