The Pillars of Hercules (6 page)

Leosthenes spat into the ocean. “What else does Alexander have?”

Memnon gazed at the sea as though he’d just been asked a question about the weather. “I daresay we’ll be finding out,” he said.

Barsine ran a tight ship. She kept Lugorix and Matthias to a rigorous watch schedule: Matthias during the moonlit night, Lugorix during the sun-scorched day. It was while relieving Matthias one morning that Lugorix realized just how frustrated his friend was getting.

“It
was
Athenian,” repeated the archer angrily. “Another trireme.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” replied Lugorix.

“Then why sound so skeptical?”

“Not skeptical, just obvious. The Mediterranean’s their
lake
. You saw a boat out here last night, what else would it be?”

“So why didn’t she signal it? Why did she evade it?”

“Because this is a Persian vessel and we lack a good explanation?”

“Then why the hell are we going to
Athens
in the first place?”

Lugorix exhaled slowly, watching the heaving waves. “Been wondering that myself,” he admitted.

“Well, there you go then.”

“So have you asked her?”

“Asked her? I never even
see
her. She’s either asleep or piloting this thing.”

“I wonder if that’s the real cause of your annoyance,” said Lugorix.

“I still think she’s playing hard to get,” muttered Matthias.

“She must have friends in Athens.”

“You trying to make me jealous?”

“I’m trying to make sense of all this,” said Lugorix. “We know she’s worried about Athenians bought by Mack gold. That’s how Egypt fell, right? So she not going to trust
anything
we encounter on the high seas. Maybe least of all an Athenian warship.” He looked at Matthias. “You got any contacts in Athens?”

“Never been there.”

Lugorix looked surprised. “Really?”

“Really.”

“And all along I’ve been thinking you the worldly Greek.”

“And you the uncouth barbarian? Zeus, you’ve probably seen more of the world than I have.”

“Didn’t you serve a tour in Athens?” said Lugorix.

“Not
in
Athens. One of the fortresses to the north, before they were all overrun. They don’t like to let mercs into the capital. Especially not ones from the Greek cities in Asia Minor who might have a grudge against Athens for selling the whole place out to Persia a few decades back.”

“Do
you have a grudge against Athens?”

“I take her money, don’t I?”

“Answer my question.”

“No more than I have a grudge against Persia.”

“I’d say that grudge has been paid off. After what Alexander did to the place—”

“Look,” said Matthias, “we’re just hired hands, is all. And gold talks louder than words. Athens preens herself for her democracy, but all that really means is that a gang of asses in a single place get to decide what happens in a hundred other places.”

Lugorix mulled this over. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“Athens puts democracies in all cities that join their alliance.”

“Only the
Greek
ones. And sometimes not even then.”

“But when they do, a city’s people know that their democracy depends on Athenian power. Without that, local oligarchs take control.”

“Oligarchs?”
Matthias laughed. “Where the hell does a barbarian learn words like that?

“By listening.”

“So Athens plays off the Many against the Few to sustain its empire. So what?”

“So you prove my point,” said Lugorix.

“Which is?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be. You stay a mercenary long enough, you’ll get a little more cynical.”

“Fact remains. Dealing with Athens is still a damn sight better than dealing with the Macks. Look at their propaganda. Look at their massacres. You don’t hear the Athenians babbling about their right and duty to conquer whole world. If Alexander has his way, we’ll all be slaves or dead and that’s the truth.”

Matthias said nothing.

“And with Egypt in his hands,” Lugorix added, “he’s on way to making that happen. So the big question now is what Athens will do next.”

“If we make it there, we may actually find out.”

“And more besides.”

“Not if that bitch keeps holding out on us,” said Matthias.

But late that afternoon, as the sun was setting, the woman in question joined Lugorix while he was on watch. He didn’t hear her emerge from the hatch, though he probably should have, as the ship’s
aelio-mekanikos
—wind-motor, as the women called it—was no longer making a racket. It had been turned off and the mast and sails had been extended.

“By Taranis,” he muttered. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” said Barsine. The breeze blew her hair about her face. She narrowed her eyes against the glare of the vanishing sun. There was something about the way she did that which stirred at his memory—he wasn’t sure why. “But I’m not sure you’re doing a very good job at keeping watch.”

“I’m watching the
ocean
.” He was embarrassed to have been so startled—had almost lunged for his axe which he’d leant against the railing. “If something comes out of the hatch behind me—”

“I’d say something has,” she said, her voice bordering on the mischievous. “Who’s Taranis anyway?”

“One of my people’s gods. What brings you on deck?” In the back of his head, he was thinking that Matthias would be annoyed at missing a chance to speak to her—was thinking he should go wake the man. But of course, that wasn’t an option. Besides, Lugorix wasn’t averse to having something to hold over his friend. All in good fun, of course….

“We’re almost at Athens,” she said. “Damitra’s piloting. I wanted to get a glimpse of the city.”

Lugorix nodded. “So that’s why we put the mast up and turned off the engine?”

“No sense in looking too weird,” she said.

He drew in his breath. “Who are we meeting at Athens?”

“Friends,” she said. “In the government.”

“But not
the
government.”

Her eyes narrowed at that. “Your friend likes to act like he’s the smart one. But you’re not all brawn, are you?”

“Never said I was.”

“Where are you from?”

“Gaul.”

“I realize that. Where in Gaul?”

“Southwest. Village of Sarmax. In the Pyrenees. The Athenian recruiters were in Massilia, so I headed there.”

“But why you’d leave in the first place?”

He hesitated. “It’s complicated.”

To his relief, she didn’t press it. “And how’d you hook up with Matthias?”

“Working as marines. Doing raids against the Persian coast.”

That drew her up short. “Before or after the Macedonian conquest?”

“Both.”

“Ah.”

“Your people captured Matthias’ city a while back.”

“What’s his city?”

“Pinara,” replied Lugorix. “In Asia Minor.”

“That’s in Macedonian hands now.”

“Yes.” And then, curious: “I would have thought your witch would have been able to tell you all this.”

“She’s no witch. She’s a Servant of the Sacred Fire.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

“The heart of the Zoroastrian faith. Damitra is one of our magi.”

“I thought they were all male.”

“You’re not the only one who thinks that.”

“So she knows a lot of magick?”

“She knows enough. But your question’s a crude one.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Barsine shrugged. “Magick’s just another word for something one doesn’t understand. The ignorant call it magick. But to the initiated, it’s really just a tool. Alchemists, mechanists, sorcerors—they’re all just different types of the same thing. The real question is the ends to which they put their power. Damitra and I both serve Ahura Mazda, the One Creator, who set us in motion to play our part in the final battle.”

Lugorix had no idea what to make of that. “Final battle?” he asked.

“Between good and evil,” she replied.

As she said this, she pointed at the darkening horizon where a speck was growing.

“Athens,” she said.

They stared across the minutes as it approached, tower after tower rising from horizon, stacking on and upward toward the twilit heavens, each tower bristling with all manner of war-machines and siege equipment. As they drew near, Lugorix could see ant-like men moving along the battlements, looking down at them.

“It’s colossal,” he muttered.

“That’s just the sea-wall across the outer harbor.”

Lugorix shook his head in amazement as they sailed in toward one of the sea-wall’s many gates. It opened as though it was expecting them. As they headed in toward it, he turned back to Barsine. And suddenly he realized why he found this woman so familiar—who she reminded him of.

Though he knew better than to tell her.

“War between good and evil,” he said.

“What about it?”

“That’s what you were saying just now.”

“Yes,” she replied. “The ultimate struggle. It’s a Zoroastrian tenet that—”

“You think that’s the war we’re fighting now?”

There was a long pause. “Alexander has to be stopped,” she said finally. “Sometimes I think he truly believes he’ll reign forever. He won’t, though he might just leave the world wrecked in his wake.”

“But say that’s just the least of it?” asked Lugorix.

“How could there be more?”

“If he really
does
discover a way to reign forever.”

She stared at the spires of Athens straight ahead of them, made no reply.

Eumenes had no idea it was possible to get this thirsty. Not to mention this blind. The sandstorm had been howling for hours, and only Alexander seemed to think they were anything other than absolutely lost. They were at least a hundred miles west of the Nile, and fifty miles south of the last discernible road. It was all desert now, nothing but sand. Eumenes could see how the Persian king Cambyses had lost his whole army in this mess.

Of course, Cambyses had it coming. He’d burnt down all of Egypt’s temples and personally slaughtered the sacred bull Apis. Not the best of ways to prepare for a trip to the sacred site at Siwah, assuming one had any respect whatsoever for the gods. Though Eumenes was starting to wonder if that even mattered—was starting to think that perhaps it was all just divine whimsy anyway. For Alexander and his father to defeat the last of Cambyses’ line at Issus—for Alexander to then venture on into the heart of Persia and destroy the oldest empire in existence before turning with utter success on Athens itself—it seemed incredible that it could all come to an end amidst trekless desert. But perhaps it was fitting. Perhaps the gods were angry that Alexander wanted to set himself among them. After all, if that wasn’t hubris, then Eumenes had no idea what was.

Though there was always the chance Alexander was right. Eumenes had seen enough of the world to know it could be a very strange place, and that the line between legend and fact often had a way of blurring. No mortal in recent memory had done that like Alexander. So if he really
was
something more than mortal, then the deserts of Egypt would be the place of reckoning. Because at this point it was difficult to imagine any of them surviving under any other circumstances.

The sandstorm ebbed momentarily, allowing Eumenes to spot a horseman trudging just ahead of him. He was relieved to know he hadn’t lost contact with the rest. Stragglers kept wandering off in the blizzard, never to be seen again. Each time the storm cleared there were less remaining to follow Alexander. The guides had been among the first to disappear, though Eumenes suspected they’d left of their own volition. Perhaps Athenian agents had paid them off. Perhaps they’d
been
Athenian agents, or Athenian sorcery had called up the sandstorm. Eumenes was too exhausted to care. He raised a flask to his lips, drank just enough to wet his lips and get a little moisture down his parched throat. He edged his horse closer to the man ahead of him, trying to keep him in sight as the sandstorm picked up speed again. Stinging grains of heat smacked against his face. He cursed, drawing his scarf up closer. The other man turned round in his saddle, recognized him anyway.

“Eumenes,” he said. Hephaestion’s voice was reduced to little more than a croak. There was no trace of haughty disdain now.

“Thought you were up at the front,” said Eumenes.

“Not much of the front left,” muttered Hephaestion.

“Well, where’s Alexander?”

“About fifty meters ahead.” Hephaestion gestured through the sand at the faint outlines of more horsemen. “Just past the advance guard. His intuition’s the only guide we’ve got left now.”

“Does his intuition say we’re getting closer?”

“Sure. Question is closer to
what
.”

Eumenes wondered if Hephaestion was trying to lull him into incriminating statements. Then he caught the look in the man’s eyes and realized that the chief marshal was way beyond artifice of any kind. Eumenes knew the feeling. So he did something he hadn’t done in a long time.

Spoke his mind.

“We might all die out here.”

Hephaestion pondered this. “True.”

“We’re lost in the middle of nowhere, and that’s all you can say?”‘

“What else would you have me say?” Hephaestion’s horse whinnied as sand lashed against it. “If this sandstorm doesn’t let up, we’re fucked anyway. We could pass within a few yards of the Oasis and never notice.”

“There are no roads,” said Eumenes, and the words echoed in his head.
“No roads.
And we’re down to our last dregs of water.”

“Sure. We’re in the hands of the gods now.”

“Maybe one doesn’t have to reach Siwah to hear the oracle’s answer.”

“We wouldn’t be the first to never make it. Cambyses—”

“Don’t talk to me about Cambyses,” snarled Eumenes. Anger rose in him like the hot wind that swirled around them. “Think about all the
others
who didn’t make it. Wayward travelers, lost caravans, seekers of infinity—and all too many found it. A good
half
of those who try to make Siwah never do.”