Heaven Must be Missing an Angel
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"Okay," the apparition announced, his words ringing through the cavern like a crash of thunder. "Now you got me really mad."
The storm of his wings scattered a rainbow of gilded water drops in all directions and sent the torches dancing. Even in daylight his entrance would have been startling; in the gloom of the cavern the light of his manifest glory was practically incandescent. Hercules was staring at him, his mouth open and his eyes wide with shock. Brennus had much the same expression on his face, although, in his case, it was backed with distinct terror rather than incredulity and awe.
{Defend me!} Carnivean demanded, his voice a scream of pain and fury. {Destroy it. Exterminate it. Extinguish the light!}
The light. The light was everywhere, coruscating off the long hidden treasures of Poseidon's temple. It gleamed along the gilded trappings of the broken statues, it glittered in the jewels which still clad the shattered plaques and votaries, it glimmered across the twisted columns that held the ornate mirror, and it glinted off polished stone, reflecting and refracting across the tiled floor so that it seemed that its surface had taken on a golden sheen.
In the midst of all that was the angel; a creature of light and fire cut from warm gold and liquid bronze. He hovered in mid air, suspended, not in passive splendour, but by determined motion; he was held aloft by the powerful beat of his wings, which stirred the dank air and repainted it with the scents of frankincense, cinnamon and honey.
Iolaus?
Hercules blinked, taking a moment to reconcile the image in front of him with the more familiar aspects of his best friend. The glimpse he had caught on the beach - the flicker of golden wings dropping towards the sand almost as if their owner were ashamed of them - had not prepared him for this.
Gods, the son of Zeus breathed, seeing - in that moment of startled recognition - an echo of the eternal Light which had received his partner's soul nearly two years earlier. He gave this up for me ..?
For mankind, he corrected himself almost immediately, although he'd been right the first time and knew it. Blue eyes flashed with cerulean fire beneath a halo of golden hair; the angel paused to throw him a cocky and utterly typical grin - then winged back with alarm as grasping arms twisted up from the water's surface, far below.
"Oh, no you don't," Iolaus growled, striking out with the gleaming sword. The blade cut through the writhing mass, severing tentacles and raising clouds of steam. Hercules gave himself a little shake and returned his attention to extracting himself from the stone. His partner was still buying him time; it was up to him to make the most of it.
"That the best you got?" the angel taunted, soaring almost effortlessly above the summoned elemental's reach. Almost, but not quite. He dug a little too deep with one wing and nearly stalled, catching himself just in time. The son of Zeus found himself smothering a small smile.
He needs a little practice …
His hands were nearly free by now; he leaned forward a little to make it seem that he was still trapped - and carefully slid his right hand onto a nearby white tile. Brennus, probably realising that attacking a creature wielding a weapon of fire with nothing but water was a little pointless, began to throw rocks at his airborne enemy. Actually, the rocks began to throw themselves, but it was the councilor who was directing them, each dramatic wave of his hand ripping handfuls of stone from the surrounding walls and lobbing them into the air.
"Whoa," Iolaus reacted, swatting at the first wave with his sword and dancing out of the way in a twist of air and a hurried flurry of golden feathers.
{Strike hard,} Carnivean hissed, his misted form cowering at the very edges of the mirror. It was almost as if the glory that flared across it had the power to hurt him. He swum from shadow to shadow, avoiding the impact of the light as the angel darted and dodged across the arching cavern. {Don't let him stop us …}
Stone clattered against broken pillars and splashed into the sea. Iolaus twisted and tumbled through the rain of rock, barely avoiding each flying missile. He deflected more than a few with sword blade and boot, and had to hastily dive down below the jutting promontory when the onslaught flew in from all sides.
Just a little longer …
Hercules had both hands and one foot free by now. Brennus was ignoring him, his one wild eye darting this way and that as he tried to locate his target. Shadows fluttered back as the angel's light was obscured by the overhanging rock. Carnivean flowed into the centre of the mirror, his taloned hands clawing at the silvered surface.
{Give me a life,} he demanded huskily. The nobleman threw him a startled look, then nodded determinedly. {Hurry!}
Light soared back, carried on wings of gold. Iolaus had flown under the rock and reappeared on the other side, sending Carnivean screaming back in agony. Brennus ran for the altar, pulling a long bladed knife from the belt beneath his robes.
"I don't think so," Hercules announced, standing up with fluid ease. He put out his hand and caught the councilor's wrist as he hastened past. Brennus' own impetus spun him round, bringing him face to face with the hero's other fist, which he'd held clenched in readiness. The impact sent the man flying, throwing him back towards the mirror. He hit one of the carved, twisted pillars which, in turn, spilled him up against the silvered surface.
Carnivean was there like a striking snake.
{You'll do,} he hissed. Taloned hands oozed out of the mirror and wrapped the man with leathery, clawed fingers.
"Nooo," Brennus howled, struggling with sudden fear and desperation. The demon tugged and his captive began to sink into the shimmering surface, a surge of blood pooling out around him, filling the mirror with swirls of scarlet. Hercules dived forward in horror, only to find the way barred by a sudden sweep of golden pinion feathers.
"Don't give him what he wants," Iolaus said tightly, planting himself firmly in the way and spreading both wings wide. His expression held anxious agitation; the sword in his hands rippled with flame. "Get the children out of here. Now," he insisted when Hercules showed no signs of moving. His eyes flicked over his shoulder; the mirror was completely crimson now. Brennus had stopped screaming. His corpse was slowly sliding to the floor. "Herc," the angel pleaded, fixing his friend with eyes filled with urgency and desperation, "get them, and you outta here - before he gets out here. We won't be able to stop him then."
"But - " Hercules began, his protest dying in his throat as he caught sight of the demon's fingers beginning to re-emerge from the mirror's surface. He took a wary step backwards, then paused, staring at his partner with concern. "Can you - ?"
"I dunno," Iolaus answered with candid honesty. "But I'm gonna try. Go," he ordered, a command that brooked no argument. Hercules nodded, turning on his heel and running for the altar, trying very hard not to look back.
"That's far enough," he heard his guardian angel say, the words a challenge as well as a warning. Carnivean hissed like a snake.
{Little fly,} he drawled, his voice filled with contempt, {why do you pester me? You know how insignificant you are.}
There was no time to bother with knots. Hercules simply ripped the fabric in two, freeing the shivering children so that he could gather them both into his arms.
"Yeah." Iolaus' answer held a hint of scorn. "Maybe. But I'm the one standing in the Light. So what does that make you?"
Good point …
Frightened hands clung to him as he raced for the exit. Every step felt like a betrayal; he was abandoning his friend, leaving him to face overwhelming odds - but the children's safety came first, and he couldn't ignore that, no matter what the cost.
{I am Carnivean, Lord of the lower realms, prince in Abaddon, master of a thousand spirits, one who once stood among the principalities. Before me you are nothing. Less than nothing. Let me pass, little fly. And I might spare your life - once I have ripped your wings into shreds of pain and made you watch as I devour your friend's immortal heart.}
Gods, Hercules shivered as he reached the suspect safety of the door. This guy's as arrogant as Dahok. Let's hope he doesn't have the same kind of power …
He started to disentangle himself from the children, chivying them to start running up the tunnel. Elentra clung to him, her eyes wide and staring as she gazed past him at the confrontation taking place within the temple. He gently lifted her hand from his arm and pressed it into Cystus' trembling palm. "Run," he ordered softly, giving them both an encouraging push. "Your grandfather will be waiting for you."
"Over my dead body," Iolaus was saying obstinately.
{That can be arranged …}
Hercules stood up and turned round. Carnivean
was partway out of the mirror now, one arm and shoulder free of the surface,
his head pushed halfway through. There were horns curling from above his brow
and the hint of leathery wings springing from his shoulder blades; he was
a dark and ugly parody of the compact, golden figure whose light obstructed
his escape into the world.
Iolaus risked a glance over his shoulder, confirming that the altar was empty
and the son of Zeus was nowhere in sight. A small smile curled onto his lips
and he turned back, facing Carnivean with almost impish defiance. "Two
things," he said confidently, addressing the demon with typically reckless
courage. "First - I earned these wings and no-one, especially
you, is going to take them away from me. And second - " His smile widened
into fey determination. His wings opened out, lifting him easily into the
air above the ornate mirror. "Don't call me little."
The flaming sword swept down with resolute strength, cleaving straight through the carved frame. The silvered surface shattered, exploding into a thousand slivers of light and sending its destroyer tumbling. Carnivean screamed. His wings opened in pain, scattering the glass daggers up and out - and then the space behind the mirror, the world from which he'd been trying to escape - sucked them back, turning them into a myriad of tiny daggers, which pierced his leather hide and set him writhing in agony. He clung to the broken frame for a moment longer - and then he was gone, pulled back and down into the nether world where he belonged.
The air went on screaming; the space behind the mirror dragged it in, creating a howling, twisting vortex in the centre of the cave. The earth rumbled. The rock shook.
And the rest of the cavern began to collapse, torn apart by the savage forces unleashed at its heart.
"Whooaa…!"
The cavern roof was coming up way too fast. Iolaus closed his eyes and scrunched his head down, throwing his arms up over his head in a desperate attempt to minimise the inevitable outcome. The movement served to neatly sheath the sword of the Aeon back into its hiding place, but he scarcely noticed the fact, far more concerned with where he was going than what he was doing. His wings were beating frantically, fighting to slow his precipitate, tumbling flight. At the very last minute they caught the air and pulled him back; far enough to prevent him becoming a smear of angel jam across the jagged surface of the ceiling, but not enough to avoid the collision altogether. He hit the rock hard, a bone jarring impact that briefly pinned him against the granite - and then gravity took over and he fell away, dazed and utterly disorientated.
He tumbled down like an autumn leaf caught in a bitter wind, a fluttering, buffeted descent as the air fought with the angled sweep of his pinions - and then he hit the edge of the howling vortex and fell the rest of the way like a stone.
The floor caught him with unforgiving violence, driving the last of the air from his lungs. Swirling currents snatched at his feathers, battering his wings and tugging them up like angled sails; the wind immediately caught hold, dragging him head first towards the heart of the storm.
Gods!
He'd been pulled forward several feet before he realised what was happening. He scrabbled for a hold on the polished tiles, frenziedly pushing back with his palms, but to no avail. The closer he got, the greater the force became.
I won't, I can't…
He scrambled and fought with panicked desperation, losing ground with every second. The mouth of the portal yawned ahead of him and he fluttered frantically, trying to break free from its sucking grip, battering the air like a wounded sparrow caught by a cruel cat. All he succeeded in doing was turning himself round, so that he was heading, feet first, into the maelstrom.
Into the mouth of Hell itself.
Noo!
Using his wings was a mistake; they weren't
helping him escape, they were just adding to the problem. He gritted his teeth
and he tensed every muscle, forcing his bruised and battered pinions in and
down. It hurt - it hurt more than he could have possibly imagined but,
with one last desperate effort, he managed to fold them away completely, regaining
his mortal disguise.
And that was his second mistake.
Exhaustion crashed in on him like a wave. Without the glory to sustain him what little strength he had left simply vanished, leaving him weak and shaking, barely able to move. What's more, he continued to slide - not quite as fast as before, but still losing ground, still headed towards an unwelcome fate.
Guess this is it, he realised bleakly, stubbornly digging in his toes and crabbing his fingers just in case it made any difference. He wasn't going to go without knowing that he fought for every inch of it - although 'fight' was a questionable description considering that he had nothing left to fight with. At least Herc got those kids away …
There was comfort in that - although it would be very little comfort once he'd been dragged through the portal and was tumbling into the Pit. He might still be numbered among the guardians of the Light, but he'd been denied the beth-el and was limited to his own strength and resources. He had no illusions as to what would happen to him once he got there.
His one regret - his only regret - was that he'd never get a chance to explain things to his partner. He knew he'd hurt him - and he was still haunted by that look, by that moment of angry rejection back in the palace atrium. Hercules didn't trust him. He didn't blame him for that - but now he'd never be able to win back that trust, never be able to prove himself or even have the chance to say 'I'm sorry' that one more time.
I should have told him …
Instead of which he'd let the matter fester, had turned the omission into a lie - and in doing so had utterly shattered something which had helped keep him safe during all those long days in Dahok's clutches. His best friend's faith in him.
"I'm sorry, Herc," he breathed
into the cold marble as it scraped past his cheek. "I really am …"
He had no strength to do anything else. The temple was shaking itself to pieces
around him. Rocks the size of his head and larger slammed into the tiles on
either side, spattering him with jagged debris. The promontory was shuddering,
each juddering shift helping to reduce the distance between him and the howling
void. It wouldn't be much longer now; the wind was pummeling him with fearsome
pressure, tugging at his legs, and starting to lift him bodily from the surface
of the stone.
Here we go …
Fingers snapped closed around his outstretched
wrist, anchoring his flight and pulling him back from the brink. Warm, strong
fingers, which held him with a grip of steel. Familiar fingers.
"Hercules?"
Iolaus lifted his head, not caring that the effort to do so brought darkness whirling in at the edges of his senses. The son of Zeus was right there, flat out on the cold stone where he'd thrown himself to make that last minute catch. "I got ya," he was saying, crabbing back to haul the both of them out of the votex's hungry tug. "Now let's get out of here."
"You - " The exhausted hunter stared at his rescuer with bemused incredulity. "You - came back for me?"
The look he got in return held a little incredulity of its own, as if the question - and the surprise - were totally unnecessary. Then Hercules smiled - and the last thing that his partner heard, before everything swam away into nothingness, was a confident, undeniable promise.
"I always will, buddy. I always will…"
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'Heaven Must be Missing an Angel'- Chapter Nine. Disclaimer:This
story has been written for love rather than profit and is not intended to
violate any copyrights held by Universal, Pacific Rennaisance, or any other
holders of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys trademarks or copyrights.
© 2001. Written by Pythia. Reproduced by Penelope Hill