Gemmell, David - Dark Prince

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Dark Prince

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Legend

The King Beyond the Gate

Waylander

Wolf in Shadow

Ghost King

Last Sword of Power

Knights of Dark Renown

The Last Guardian

Quest for Lost Heroes

The Drenai Tales

Lion of Macedon

DARK PRINCE

David A. Gemmell

CENTURY A Legend Book

LONDON SYDNEY AUCKLAND JOHANNESBURG

The right of David A. Gemmell to be identified as the author of

this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the

First published in 1991 by Legend, an imprint of

Random Century Group

20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,

London SW1V 2SA

Century Hutchinson South Africa (Pty) Ltd

PO Box 337, Bergvlei 2012

South Africa

Random Century Australia Pty Ltd

20 Alfred St, Milsons Point, Sydney, NSW 2061

Australia

Random Century New Zealand Ltd

PO Box 40-086, Glenfield, Auckland 10

New Zealand

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Gemmell, David A.

Dark Prince: Lion of Macedon 2. - (Legend books)

I. Title II. Series

823[F]

ISBN 0-7126-3487-8 ISBN 0-7126-3492-4 pbk

Photoset by Deltatype Ltd, Ellesmere Port, Cheshire Printed in England by Clays Ltd, St Ives pic

Dark Prince is dedicated to Anthony Cheetham, the strategos, for his constant support and encouragement, and

to all my friends at Random Century, past and present.

A cknowledgements

Thanks also to Charon Wood, to my copy editor Jean Maund, and test readers Valeric Gemmell, Edith

Graham, Stella Graham, Stan Nicholls and Tom Taylor, whose advice throughout was invaluable.

Contents

Acknowledgements v

BOOK ONE 352 BC

Pella, Macedonia, Summer 3

The Crocus Field, Summer 7

The Temple, Asia Minor, Summer 21

Pella, Macedonia, Summer 30

Pella, Macedonia, Autumn 51

Pella, Macedonia, Autumn 66

The Temple, Asia Minor 71

The Empire of Makedon 77

The Thracian Border, Macedonia 84

BOOK TWO 352 BC

The Forests of Olympus 93

The Stone Circle, Time Unknown 99

The Wood of the Centaurs 112

The Pindos Mountains 142

The Hills of Arcadia 152

The Forest of Gorgon 160

BOOK THREE 352 BC

The Cliffs of Arkadia 195

The Plain of Mantinea 209

ThePassofTegaea 220

The City of Sparta 232

The Hills of Gytheum 254

The City of Sparta 259

The Field of Blood 274

The City of Sparta 280

The Field of Blood 283

The Giant's Gateway 295

BOOK FOUR

The City of Mieza, 337 BC 313

Pella, Summer 837 BC 318

The Temple, Asia Minor 330

The Summer Palace, Aigai 341

The City of Aigai, Midwinter 337 BC 349

Pella, Midwinter 351

The River Axios, Winter 337 BC 357

The City of Aigai 364

Pella, Winter 337 BC 365

Aigai, Summer 336 BC 373

The Ruins of Troy, Winter 335 BC 376

Greater Phrygia, 336 BC 380

Ionia, Spring 334 BC 389

The Ida Mountains, 334 BC 392

The River Granicus, 334 BC 398

The Issus, Autumn 333 BC 407

Battle at the Issus, 333 BC 412

Lindos, Rhodes, 330 BC 418

Susa, Persia, 330 BC 426

The City of Elam, 330 BC 432

Babylon, Summer 323 BC 437

The Void, Time Unknown 440

A City by the Sea, Time Unknown 443

The Gateway, Sparta, 352 BC 446

Bibliography 450

Dark Prince

Book One, 352 BC

Pella, Macedonia, Summer

The golden-haired child sat alone, as he usually did, and wondered whether his father would die today. Some

distance away, across the royal gardens, his nurse was talking to the two sentries who guarded him during the hours

of daylight. The soldiers, grim-eyed warriors, did not look at him and shifted nervously if he approached.

Alexander was used to this reaction. Even at four he understood it.

He remembered with sadness the day three weeks ago when his father, garbed for war, had walked along this same

garden path, his cuirass gleaming in the sunlight. It was so beautiful that Alexander had reached out to touch the

gleaming plates of iron, edged with gold, the six golden lions on the breast. But as his hand came forward Philip had

moved swiftly back.

'Don't touch me, boy!' he snapped.

'I would not hurt you, Father,' whispered the prince, staring up at the black-bearded face, with its blind right eye like

a huge opal beneath the savagely scarred brow.

'I came to say goodbye,' muttered Philip, 'and to tell you to be good. Learn your lessons well.'

'Will you win?' the child asked.

'Win or die, boy,' answered the King, kneeling to face his son. He appeared to relax, though his expression remained

stern. 'There are those who think I cannot win. They remember Onomarchus defeated me when last we met. But . .

.'his voice dropped to a whisper, 'when the arrow tore into my eye at the siege of Methone they said I would die.

When the fever struck me down in Thrace men swore my heart stopped beating. But I am Macedon, Alexander, and I

do not die easily.'

'I don't want you to die. I love you,' said the child.

For a moment only Philip's face softened, his arm rising as if to reach out to his son. But the moment passed and the

King stood. 'Be good,' he said. 'I will. . . think of you.'

The sound of children's laughter brought Alexander's thoughts back to the present. Beyond the garden walls he could

hear the palace children playing. Sighing, he wondered what game they were enjoying. Hunt the Turtle perhaps, or

Hecate's Touch. He watched them sometimes from the window of his room. One child would be chosen as Hecate,

Goddess of Death, and would chase the others, seeking out their hiding-places, to touch them and make them slaves.

The game would go on until all the children had been found and enslaved by Death.

Alexander shivered in the sunshine. No one would ask him to play such a game. He looked down at his small hands.

He had not meant the hound to die; he had loved the pup. And he had tried so hard, concentrating always, so that

whenever he stroked the dog his mind was calm. But one day the playful hound had leapt at him, knocking him from

his feet. In that moment Alexander's hand had snaked out, lightly slapping the beast on the neck. The hound

collapsed instantly, eyes glazing, legs twitching. It had died within seconds, but what was worse it had decomposed

within minutes, the stench filling the garden.

'It was not my fault,' the child wanted to say. But he knew that it was; knew that he was cursed.

Birds began to sing in the tall trees and Alexander smiled as he looked up at them. Closing his green eyes the boy

allowed the bird-song to flow into him, filling his mind, merging with his own thoughts. The songs began to have

meanings then, that he could just decipher. No words but feelings, fears, tiny angers. The birds were screeching

warnings to one another.

Alexander looked up and sang: 'My tree! My tree! Get away! Get away! My tree! My tree! I will kill you if you stay!'

'Children should not sing of killing,' said his nurse sternly, approaching where he sat but halting, as ever, out of

reach.

'That is what the birds are singing,' he told her.

'You should come inside now, the sun is very hot.'

'The children are still playing beyond the wall,' he argued. 'And I like to sit here.'

'You will do as you are told, young prince!' she snapped. His eyes blazed and he could almost hear the dark voice

within himself whispering: 'Hurt her! Kill her!' He swallowed hard, quelling the rising tide of anger.

'I will come,' he said softly. Rising to his feet he walked towards her, but she stepped quickly aside to let him pass,

following him slowly as he returned to his own rooms. Waiting until she had gone, Alexander slipped out into the

corridor and ran to his mother's apartments, pushing open the door to peek inside.

Olympias was alone and she smiled as he entered, opening her arms to him. He ran forward and embraced her,

pushing his face against the soft flesh of her bosom. There was never anyone, he knew, so beautiful as his mother,

and he clung to her fiercely.

'You are very hot,' said Olympias, pushing back his golden hair and stroking his brow. Filling a cup with cool water

she passed it to him, watching as he drank greedily.

'Did your lessons go well today?' she asked.

'There were no lessons, Mother. Stagra is ill. If I had a pony, would it die?'

He saw the pain on her face as pulling him to her she patted his back. 'You are not a demon, Alexander. You have

great gifts; you will be a great man.'

'But would the pony die?'

'I think that it might,' she admitted. 'But when you are older you will know how to control. . . the Talent. Be patient.'

'I don't want to kill anything. Yesterday I made a bird fly to my hand. It sat for a long time before flying away. It

didn't die. Truly!'

'When your father returns to Pella we will all go to the sea, and sail on boats. You will like that. The breeze is cool,

and we will swim.'

'Is he coming back?' Alexander asked. 'Some people say he will die against the Phocians. They say his luck is

finished, that the gods have deserted him.'

'Hush!' she whispered. 'It is not wise to voice such thoughts. Philip is a great warrior - and he has Parmenion.'

'The Phocians beat him before, two years ago,' said the boy. 'Two thousand Macedonians dead. And now the

Athenians raid our coastline and the Thracians have turned against us.'

She nodded and sighed. 'You hear too much, Alexander.'

'I don't want him to die ... even though he doesn't like me.'

'You must not say that! Ever!' she cried, seizing his shoulders and shaking him hard. 'Never! He loves you. You are

his son. His heir.'

'You are hurting me,' he whispered, tears in his eyes.

'I am sorry,' she told him, drawing him into her arms. 'There is so much I wish I could tell you; explain to you. But

you are very young.'

'I would understand,' he assured her.

'I know. That is why I cannot tell you.'

For a while they sat in silence, Alexander warm and sleepy in his mother's arms. 'I can see them now,' he said

dreamily. 'There is a plain covered with flowers of purple and yellow. And there is Father in his golden armour. He is

standing beside the grey gelding, Achea. And there are the enemy. Oh, Mother, there are thousands of them. I can

see their shields. Look! There is the sign of Sparta, and there the Owl of Athens and ... I don't know that one, but I

can see the emblems of Pherai and Corinth ... so many. How can Father beat them all?'

'I don't know,' whispered Olympias. 'What is happening now?'

'The battle begins,' answered the child.

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DarkPrinceBYTHESAMEAUTHORLegendTheKingBeyondtheGateWaylanderWolfinShadowGhostKingLastSwordofPowerKnightsofDarkRenownTheLastGuardianQuestforLostHeroesTheDrenaiTalesLionofMacedonDARKPRINCEDavidA.GemmellCENTURYALegendBookLONDONSYDNEYAUCKLANDJOHANNESBURGCopyright©DavidA.Gemmell1991AllrightsreservedTheri...

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