Greek Series 02 - Dark Prince Read Online Free PDF

he a general in Macedonia's triumphant army. Worse, he had believed her dead for these last thirty years.
    Sorrow followed the touch of despair, but she put it aside and moved closer to him, feeling the warmth of his spirit.
    'I always loved you,' she told him. 'Nothing ever changed that. And I will watch over you as long as I live.'
    But he could not hear her. A cold breeze touched her spirit and, with a sudden rush of fear, she knew she was not alone. Soaring high into the sky she clothed her spirit body in armour of light, a sword of white fire burning in her hand.
    'Show yourself!' she commanded. A man's form materialized close by. He was tall, with short-cropped grey hair and a beard curled in the Persian manner. He smiled and opened his arms. 'It is I, Aristotle,' he said.
    'Why do you spy on me?' she asked.
    'I came to see you at the Temple, but it is guarded by money-hungry mercenaries who would not allow me to enter.
    And we must talk.'
    'What is there to talk about? The child was born, the Chaos Spirit is within him, and all the futures show he will bring torment to the world. I had hoped to aid him, to help him retain his humanity. But I cannot. The Dark God is stronger than I.'
    Aristotle shook his head. 'Not so. Your reasoning is flawed, Derae. Now how can I come to you?'
    She sighed. 'There is a small side gate in the western wall. Be there at midnight; I will open the gate. Now leave me in peace for a while.'
    'As you wish,' he answered. And vanished.
    Alone once more, Derae followed Parmenion to the field hospital, watching as he moved among the wounded men, discussing their injuries with the little surgeon, Bernios. But she could not find the peace she sought and took to the night sky, floating beneath the stars.
    It had been four years since the magus who called himself Aristotle had come to the Temple. His visit had led to tragedy. Together Derae and the magus had sent Parmenion's spirit into the vaults of Hades to save the soul of the unborn Alexander. But it had all been for nothing. The Chaos Spirit had merged with the soul of the child, and Derae's closest friend - the reformed warrior Leucion - had been torn to pieces by demons sent to destroy her.
    Returning to the Temple, she rose from the bed and washed in cold water, rubbing her body with perfumed leaves.
    She did not allow her spirit eyes to gaze upon her ageing frame, could not bear to see herself as she now was - her hair silver, body thin and wasted, breasts sagging. Dressing in a clean full-length chiton of dark green, she sat by the window waiting for midnight. Outside the Temple the campfires were burning, scores of them. Some supplicants would wait half a year to see the Healer. Many would die before they could redeem their tokens. Once, before the arrival of Pallas, she had tried to walk among the sick, healing as many as she could. But she had been mobbed, knocked to the ground, saved only by her friend and servant Leucion who had beaten the crowds back with a club.
    Derae still mourned the warrior who had died defending her helpless body against the demons sent to destroy her.
    She pictured his face - the long silver hair tied at the nape of the neck, the arrogant walk, the easy smile.
    'I miss you,' she whispered.
    Just before midnight, guided by her spirit sight, she crept down to the western gate, sliding back the bolt. Aristotle stepped inside. Locking the gate, she took him back to her room where the magus poured himself some water and sat on the narrow bed. 'Do you mind if I light a lantern?' he asked.
    'The blind have no need of lanterns. But I will fetch you one.'
    'Do not concern yourself, lady.' Reaching out he took a silver winecup, holding it high. The metal twisted, folding in on itself to form a spout from which a flame flickered and grew, bathing the room in light. 'You are not looking well, Derae,' he said. 'Your duties are leaving you overtired.'
    'Come to the point of your visit,' she told him coldly.

    'No,' he