The Pillars of Hercules by David Constantine

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