Coolness at his lips; the sweet taste of moisture in his mouth; he woke from distant, unfocused dreams to a bleary, semi-awareness. There was water and his body craved it; he gulped it down with eager swallows, his hands lifting to grasp at the source of the miracle. Someone batted them away with ease.

"Easy, big guy." The voice was warm, soothing – and intimately familiar. "No need to rush. There’s plenty more where this came from."

Iolaus …

That was important for some reason. That meant something.

Oh yeah.

I’m not dead …

Not yet, at any rate.

Hercules opened his eyes and blinked as the world swirled in front of him, staying fuzzy and unfocused. He seemed to be sitting rather than lying, his back supported by something soft, and his head pillowed with equal comfort. The fire that had filled his senses no longer burned through him with white hot intensity; what remained was little more than a dull, heavy throb in his shoulder. The rest of him still ached and shivered, but nowhere near as fiercely as before; he felt a little like a wet rag, wrung out and left to drip dry in the sun.

No, on second thought – that was exactly what he felt like.

If I move, he considered distantly, I’ll probably throw up. But since I can’t move, I don’t think that’ll be a problem …

Red, blue and purple shapes danced somewhere to left and he turned his head towards them, logic suggesting that the indistinct pink/white blob that sported them would be his partner. The soft giggle that came from his right suggested otherwise.

"That’s Timeon," Iolaus’ voice observed warmly. "I’m over here."

He looked in the relevant direction; a slightly larger pink/white blob – one crowned with a corn gold fuzz – was perched somewhere in front of the blurry grey and brown shapes that made up the wall of their hiding place. "Hey," he managed, along with a tentative attempt at a smile. The blob grinned.

"Welcome back, Herc. You had us worried for a while. You want some more of this?"

This was an indistinct and decidedly makeshift cup of some sort; he remembered the taste of water and cautiously nodded an affirmation. "Uhuh."

"Okay."

Things were beginning to swim into focus; he watched as the hunter swung round to dip the cup into an equally makeshift bowl which sat at his feet. The cup appeared to be made of bone – as was the bowl, which looked uncomfortably like it had once been something’s skull. "Uh –?" he managed, feebly lifting a reluctant hand to point at the suspect utensils. Iolaus looked down at the object in his hand and grimaced apologetically.

"Yeah," he acknowledged, instantly understanding the concern. "I know, but – there wasn’t a lot else to hand. Rabbit," he identified, hefting the cup, "and Ox. I think. They’ve been picked completely clean – probably cleaner than the water, actually. I think that’s come from the lake."

Hercules raised an inquiring eyebrow. He didn’t have the strength for sustained conversation, but with Iolaus that didn’t really matter. Given a questioning look, the odd grunt for clarification or affirmation, and the occasional encouraging nod, the hunter was perfectly able of conducting a discussion entirely by himself.

On this occasion, he was going to have to …

"I took a look around while you were taking your nap," he explained, kneeling in close to offer up the cup and its contents. Hercules sipped cautiously; the water tasted vaguely of earth and old cabbage boiled for far too long, but it was cold and it was just what he needed. "We’re gonna need a way out, and I didn’t think the way I came in was going to be a lot of use, so I – uh – scouted the area a bit. I think this big cavern is the lowest point in the nest; there’s a pool of water at the far end and all the seepages are running into it, rather than out. The wall next to it is pretty damp; if my reckoning’s right, we’re right up against, or just under, the edge of the lake – which is probably why they didn’t dig any deeper. More water?"

"Uhuh." The grunt was a grateful one; Iolaus grinned and reached back to refill the cup.

"Going the other way was fun." He paused to take a gulp of water for himself before continuing. "There’s a passage and then a couple of side chambers stacked with eggs – I think they put them there to harden before they bring them through here to hatch – and after that, there’s the Queen’s chamber. Well, I think that’s what it is. See, there’s this ant that’s several times the size of the rest of them, she’s got this huge swollen belly and she’s busy laying eggs, so I figure – well, queen, right? Worker ants dancing attendance, soldiers on guard – sure looked like royalty to me."

Hercules managed a wan grin, amused by his partner’s upbeat assessment of the horror in which they’d become immersed. Iolaus took that as an agreement to his assessment and continued blithely on, the warm tumble of his words a comforting backdrop to the equally comforting nature of his care.

"Once you get past all that, there’s three more passages heading upwards. I checked the nearest, and it turned out to be a work in progress – nothing but a bunch of ants working on digging out a new chamber. The one after that seems to turn into a whole series of small caves full of mushrooms and stuff – a garden or farm of some kind – but I think the last one leads back to the big central chamber. The one I came through on the way down. That’s where all the workers seemed to be taking the dirt they were digging out – and it was the busiest tunnel too; like trying to dodge the traffic in Athens on a Saturday night. Except that chariots can only run you over. Not eat you afterwards.

"You know," he observed, putting the cup to one side because Hercules had signalled that he’d had enough for the time being, "there seem to be hundreds of these things down here. I don’t understand why nobody knew about them – unless most of them stay underground and only a few get sent up to the surface. Timeon here says the local game has been thin on the ground this year; I’m not surprised. Foraging for this lot would be worse than trying to feed one of Ares’ armies. Mind you," he added, thinking about what he’d just said, "they probably don’t complain as much about the quality of what they get. How you feeling?"

"Not sure," Hercules admitted. The world still seemed oddly distant, and his body even more so; his limbs seemed to be made of stone and the rest of him appeared to consist of a piece of rough sacking stuffed with uncombed fleece. "Did you – get the number – of the chariot – that – hit me?"

Iolaus giggled softly. "’Fraid not," he said. "But you can thank Timeon’s mother for the bandages. You owe him a new shirt," he added, leaning in to note the debt as if it were some treasured confidence. "The kid’s pretty scared," he went on, his voice pitched deliberately low. "I’m going to get him of here. You going to be okay until I get back?"

UntilI …

Hercules took a deep breath – an interesting experience in itself – and lifted a reluctant hand to catch at his partner’s bare shoulder. "You’re not – coming back," he announced with determination. The hunter’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.

"I’m not?" The question sounded slightly amused.

"No," the son of Zeus growled, trying to school his face into stern lines. He didn’t really have the strength for this conversation – but that was precisely why he had to have it. Iolaus had taken a huge risk venturing into the nest; every moment he stayed underground was one moment too many as far as his friend was concerned. "You’re going to get Timeon and yourself to safety. I can – rest up for while. Follow you out – once I’ve got my strength back."

He didn’t say if. He thought it. But he didn’t say it.

"Yeah, right," Iolaus shot back sceptically. "And next year we’re gonna hire Autolycus to guard the crown jewels of Corinth. I am not leaving without you. And I’d say that even if I hadn’t arranged for the whole place to be flooded with burning oil at dawn. Which can’t be that far off, come to think of it …"

Burning oil?

That was unexpected news, but it didn’t alter Hercules’ concerns. If anything, it made them worse.

"Even more reason," he gasped, wishing he were strong enough to shake some sense into his partner. Of course, if he were, none of this would be an issue in the first place. "To get out – while you can." He knew, from the expression on Iolaus’ face that it was probably futile arguing with him – but he had to say it anyway. He need to convey the fear he felt, needed his friend to know that the last thing he wanted was for him to needlessly risk his life trying to save his. A pointless, hopeless, impossible desire; it would be easier to ask the hunter to give up eating or sleeping than to request that he abandon the one man for whom he’d already made that ultimate sacrifice. He asked it nonetheless – because, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be worthy of the price. "You’re – just going to have to leave me …"

"Herc." Iolaus lifted the hand from his shoulder, wrapping trembling fingers within the warmth of his own. "You’re not strong enough to argue with me, and I’m not about change my mind, so don’t even go there, okay? You’re going to stay here and get some sleep while I get Timeon back to his mother – then I’m coming back to get you, and we are both leaving before Theo starts the barbecue. End of discussion." He reached out and clamped his hand over the wounded man’s mouth, effectively preventing the protest that had risen to his lips. "Not another word. Mmm?" His look was pointed. Hercules heaved a weary sigh and nodded. Reluctantly. "Okay." The hunter took his palm away and gently placed the hero’s own hand back on his stomach, giving it a little pat of reassurance as he did so. His grin held reassuring confidence. "I’ll try not to be too long."

You’d better not be …

Hercules forced himself to relax, only too aware that the matter was out of his hands. Iolaus was right. He needed to sleep. Needed to regain whatever strength he could before his partner returned because, when he did, the two of them would be facing a formidable challenge. Not escaping the nest – which would be difficult enough – but dealing with the problem that had brought them into it in the first place.

The ants had to be stopped before their menace multiplied and spread out across the whole of Greece. While there was a good chance that pouring burning oil into the nest might do sufficient damage, Hercules knew that they had to be sure.

Before they left the nest they were going to have to kill the Queen.

Leave him?

Get myself to safety?

Stubborn, selfless, son of a god …

Iolaus was grinning to himself as he helped Timeon climb down the miniature cliff that separated the injured demi-god’s refuge from the rest of the nursery cave. He might have known that Hercules would come up with something like that. The idea was patently ridiculous – didn’t he realise that if he were the kind of man who’d even think of doing such a thing, then he’d have never walked into the nest in the first place?

"Stay close," he warned as he began to pick his way past the writhing mass of maggoty bodies which packed the cavern floor. Timeon nodded fearfully, instantly pressing so close that he might have been glued to his escort’s hip. The hunter rolled his eyes and hooked him in under his arm so that they could walk together without falling over each other’s feet. He didn’t really blame the boy for being so jittery; the ant larvae were highly unpleasant things, even at a distance. Close too, they were even more grotesque, their slime covered, shiny white bodies squirming obscenely as they humped and slid in search of sustenance. They had nasty, raspy mouths, filled with rows of teeth, and didn’t seem adverse to feasting on their own kind if they found one too weak or sickly to hiss and battle its brethren away. Iolaus had found that a swift kick to the nose discouraged the bolder ones from encroaching too close, although he’d also had to grit his teeth and sweep up a handful or two of the sticky goo which oozed from their bodies so as to refresh his layer of protective scent.

There were mature ants moving among the larvae, some bringing in hardened eggs from the outer chambers, some picking out the ones beginning to show signs of pupating, and some just patrolling back and forth, like grotesque armoured guards. Iolaus guided Timeon away from most of those; he was fairly confident that their olfactory disguise would protect them, but he couldn’t be sure of it. It was safer to avoid confronting any the ants directly, although he suspected that would be harder to do once they were back in the main tunnels.

"Iolaus?" Timeon asked tentatively, his voice almost as whisper as they made their way towards the Queen’s chamber.

"Yeah?"

"If – smelling like an ant makes them think we’re ants – why did they bring Hercules down here? I mean – he said he’d wrestled one to death. Wouldn’t that have made him smell right?"

Iolaus threw the boy a wary look. He wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity, but because he was scared half to death; it was also a very good question. "You’d have thought so, wouldn’t you," he extemporised, hastily throwing his mind at the problem while backtracking a little to let an egg laden ant stalk past. "Maybe – maybe he smelt more of the poison than he did of dead ant. Or maybe the fact that the ant died, changed the scent a little."

Maybe, he considered, remembering the gory remains that had been scattered round the scene of that particular conflict, he smelt more of dead cow than he did anything else. He kept that particular explanation to himself; he didn’t think the boy needed that graphic a reminder of how dangerous the ants could be.

"Oh." The answers he’d given seemed to satisfy Timeon’s concern. He was quiet for a while, pressing close as they clambered up the slope out of the nursery and past the egg chamber. Then he asked, just as quietly and as worriedly as before: "If he still smells of poison and stuff – how are you going to get him out?"

That was just as good a question – but one that was a lot easier to answer.

"I don’t know." He hadn’t got round to thinking about that bit of the plan just yet. He was still on ‘get the boy out safely’ and would have to get past ‘get back to Herc’ and ‘make sure he’s still alive’ before he got anywhere near the considerations concerning ‘what happens if?’ If his father had taught him one thing about being a successful general, it had been that while you always need to be clear about your objectives, you should never stick too rigidly to a strategy, and you have to continually review your tactics. Over the years Iolaus had found that the principal applied equally well to monster hunting, flirting with girls, and life on the road with Hercules; his ability to think on his feet had saved his life – and probably that of his partner - innumerable times. It had also got him into trouble more often than he cared to think about, but he never let that bother him. Life was too short to worry about that kind of thing. He grinned down at the youngster’s anxious face with reckless confidence. "But I will. Somehow."

Timeon gave him an odd look. "Hercules said – " he offered tentatively, "that you never give up. That – if there’s a way, you’re the one to find it. Is that right?"

Iolaus had already turned his attention back to the task in hand; the question took him by surprise. "Herc said that?" The boy nodded an earnest confirmation. "Then I - guess it’s right." The dismissive shrug was faintly embarrassed and mostly for the boy’s benefit; the smile he subsequently shared with a nearby ant was warm and filled with affection. He had no inclination to argue with his partner’s assessment of his character, even if it was halfway to being a backhanded compliment. Having a hard head and a stubborn heart were essential requirements when you spent your life keeping up with the half mortal son of a god, and there was reassurance in finding that your efforts were appreciated. When you were picking your way through semi-darkness and surrounded by creatures perfectly capable of rending you limb from limb, it was nice to know that someone had faith in your ability to succeed.

"Is there? A way, I mean?" Timeon flinched as yet another ant stalked by, a freshly laid egg clamped between its jaws. "A- a way out?"

"There’s always a way out," the hunter announced confidently, then threw the youngster a knowing grin. "Well, where there’s a way in, anyway. Hey," he added, pulling the boy in close to the tunnel wall and hunkering down so that he could look him in the eye. "I got in here. I can get us out, okay?"

Timeon stared at him, his eyes wide and his body trembling. Iolaus held the look, wishing he had Hercules’ innate ability to encourage confidence. It was easy to inspire trust when you were a six foot plus, semi-divine hero; all he had to work with was a little reckless courage and a whole lot of determination – not much of a selling point when all the monsters were taller than you were.

Come on, kid. Trust me. I’m running out of time here …

It had been several hours since his descent into the nest – long hours, taken up with anxious waiting while the son of Zeus hovered uncertainly between life and death. Somewhere above them, night would have fallen. He had to get Timeon to safety, get back to Hercules and get the both of them out – and all before dawn. Because at dawn, the nest was going to burn; with luck Theodorus had managed to rouse the villagers to his cause and they were already on their way with as many barrels of oil as they could lay their hands on.

"I’m scared," the boy admitted. "I’m really scared. I – "

"I know," Iolaus interrupted, squeezing the youngster’s shoulder with sympathy. "Wanna know a secret?"

Timeon nodded fearfully, and the hunter grinned at him.

"I’m scared, too. Scared I’m not going to get you out in time to get back to save Hercules. Scared I might not get him out – and maybe, just maybe, a little scared that I’m not going to make it out either. But being scared isn’t going to stop me from trying – because if I don’t try, I won’t do any of those things. And then what’d be the point, huh? I don’t want to die today. I’m not about to let him die today – and since I can’t go back for him until I know you’re safe … well, I guess that makes it three for three."

Timeon didn’t look entirely convinced. "I – suppose," he muttered, his eyes flicking to the soldier ant which stood on guard duty at the entrance to the Queen’s chamber. Iolaus glanced in the same direction and sighed. It was a pretty scary sight, the creature’s dark shape rimmed with eerie soft green light and its jaws dripping with saliva. He decided to try a different track.

"Well," he said, standing up and staring – not at the soldier, but at the promise of the tunnel it was guarding. "We could go back, I suppose. If you wanted to. Back through all those squirmy maggots and into that dark hole with its slimy walls … Nothing to eat, not much to drink …" He kept his voice light and the words casual, trying not to smile as his audience shuddered at the picture he was painting. "Or – " he went on thoughtfully, "we could sneak through there – " he pointed at the passageway ahead of them, "go past the queen, up the tunnel, into the main chambers, find the exit – and get you running home to your mother as fast as your legs can carry you. Whatdya say?"

He looked down. The boy had been busy studying the options, his head turning this way and then that as he tried to make up his mind. "Mother – she’ll be worried, I guess. Won’t she?"

"Worried sick," the hunter noted matter-of-factly. "Or she was when I left her, anyway …"

That seemed to be the deciding factor. Timeon took a deep breath and turned towards the way out, steeling himself with visible effort. "That’s – the way. Right?"

"Right," Iolaus grinned, confirming the fact with a soft and friendly punch to the boy’s shoulder. Timeon looked a little startled by the contact – then broke into a shy grin of his own. The warrior heaved an inner sigh of relief and returned his attention to the other inhabitants of the tunnels; he didn’t notice the way the youngster went on looking at him, with more than a hint of admiration dancing in his eyes. In that one moment the boy had gone from frightened child to comrade in adventure, reassured and encouraged in a way that he would never be able to define. Hercules had been barely able to comfort him, since they’d both known he’d not be able to save him – and yet here was this man, confidently and determinedly intent on saving them both. The terrors around him had not changed, but he had, armoured and anchored in a sudden revelation of faith, his fears replaced by an awe-inspired confidence in the man at his side. "Come on," his hero requested warmly, and started up the slope. The boy followed with an almost eager step, anxious not to be left behind.