‘You cannot, my dear; you have no link to it. When the birth is close the child’s spirit will be thrown into the Underworld, the Caverns of Hades, the Void. There it will burn like a bright flame – for a little while.’
‘What then?’
‘Its brightness will summon the creatures of the Dark and they will destroy it.’
‘There must be a way!’ protested Derae, pushing herself to her feet. ‘I cannot believe it can end like this!’ Walking to the window, she felt the breeze on her face and struggled for calm.
‘You say I have no link,’ she said at last, turning back to the face in the fire. ‘Who does?’
‘Who else, my dear, but his father?’
‘And how can Parmenion travel to the Underworld?’
‘By dying, Derae,’ said Cassandra simply.
The Temple, Spring, 356 BC
For weeks the words of Cassandra returned to haunt and torment Derae, but no matter how hard she tried she could not summon the fire woman again.
‘Perhaps she was a demon,’ offered Leucion, after Derae had finally confided in him.
‘Would that she were,’ said Derae, ‘for then I would be able to dismiss her words. No, Leucion, she was no demon. I would have sensed any evil. What am I to do?’
The warrior shrugged. ‘All the world’s problems are not yours, Derae. Let others take up the battle. I know very little of the ways of the gods. They do not – thankfully -take too much interest in me, and for my part I avoid them utterly. But surely it is they who must concern themselves with the coming of this . . . Chaos Spirit?’
‘You do not know the whole story – nor will I tell it,’ answered Derae, ‘but Tamis and I are in large part responsible for the coming evil. Cassandra gave me advice similar to yours. But, do you not see why I cannot take it? I live to heal. I serve the power of Harmony. How could I live the rest of my life in the knowledge that I had brought such horror into the world?’
Leucion shook his head. ‘Some mistakes cannot be rectified. But even so, lady, why should you blame yourself? You did not set out to do the work of Darkness.’
‘No, I did not,’ she agreed. ‘But I was raised in Sparta, Leucion, and no Spartan would consider leaving the fight until it was won – or he lay dead upon his shield. The babe must have a chance at life. Cassandra says that if the soul is still alive when the child is born, then Kadmilos will be forced to share the body. That would give us a chance to work on the child, to hold the Chaos Spirit at bay.’
‘But for this the man you love must die,’ pointed out Leucion. Derae closed her eyes, saying nothing. ‘I do not envy you,’ said the warrior, ‘but it seems there is a contradiction here. Cassandra tells you there must be no killing, or else you serve the Darkness. Yet in order to win -albeit temporarily – you must kill Parmenion. There is no sense in it.’
Turning away from him Derae moved to the window, staring out over the hills and the distant sea beyond. Leucion left her there and wandered out into the gardens. The roses were growing wild now, the blooms crisscrossing each other in a profusion of colours, the pathways becoming choked. Leucion strolled up to the ramparts of the eastern wall, sitting on the parapet and gazing over the fields. Suddenly he blinked.
A man had appeared in the centre of the meadow and was walking towards the gate. Casting his eyes beyond the newcomer, Leucion scanned the ground for any dips or hollows. Surely he would have seen him when first he looked east? The stranger’s tunic was bright yellow, almost gold, his hair short and grey, his beard curled in the Persian fashion. He could not have just stepped from the air, Leucion assured himself. Unless . . . the warrior’s mouth was suddenly dry.
Unless he was a god – or a demon.
Cursing himself for leaving his dagger in his room, Leucion ran to the parapet steps and down to the eastern gate which lay open to the fields. Stepping out, he waited for the newcomer.