Heaven Must be Missing an Angel
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"We," Iolaus muttered to himself a
little testily. "We came to Agiori. And we want to help."
"I'm sorry?" the healer asked, lifting his attention from the bowl of scented liquid he was busy dampening a cloth in. "Did you say something?"
Did I? No. Not then. Maybe I should
have done. Maybe he'd have realised what he'd said.
Maybe he said it deliberately …
The look on Hercules' face was haunting him. The way he'd said 'you're bleeding' - as if it had been the last thing he'd expected - that was haunting him too. He felt as if the gap that had opened between them was widening into a yawning chasm. They had to talk. And when he'd tried to convey that need the son of Zeus had simply turned his back and said - what he'd said - as if he wasn't even there.
He's angry.
He's afraid.
The justification - along with the forgiveness - was easy. The implications were terrifying.
If he can't deal with this …
He didn't know what he'd do if that turned out to be the case. He didn't know how to turn back time, or put things back the way they were. He was only certain of two things - that without the support of his best friend, his exile would become unendurable, and - whatever happened between them - he'd still be the man's Guardian Angel. That wasn't a duty you could just walk away from.
Especially when you didn't want to.
"No," the warrior answered the healer's question with a sigh, leaning back against the prop of pillows. "Nothing that matters anyway. Is this going to take long?"
"Long enough," the man announced tartly. "Hold still. This may hurt a little."
A little!
He bit back gasp of protest as efficient hands set about cleaning the jagged wound that currently marred his face. He didn't know what the healer was using, but - whatever it was - it stung like crazy.
Gods, he winced, gritting his teeth as the cloth was dabbed against the wound a second time. I should have healed this myself. The headache would have been easier to deal with …
"This is going to need stitches," the healer decided, frowning at what the cloth had revealed beneath the sticky clotting of blood. Iolaus reached out and grabbed the man's arm as he began to turn away.
"No, it isn't," he announced firmly. The healer - an elderly man who appeared to go by the name of Didyus - frowned.
"If I don't stitch," he pointed out patiently, "the wound will get dirty again and it'll fester. Besides - do you want a neat scar, or a really jagged one? Shame to mar your looks even that much, but then - if this had been an inch further over, you'd have lost an eye, you know?"
"I know," Iolaus acknowledged tightly. He really didn't have time for any of this. Here he was, stuck in the palace healer's workshop while Hercules was out in the city, being shown the sites of worst repute. A city which had already thrown rocks at them, and - rumour had it - was capable of turning far nastier without any warning at all. "But this doesn't need stitches, and it's not going to scar."
There had to be some advantage to being a member of the heavenly host, even if he didn't have the power of heaven to call on; one of the things he'd learnt shortly after his return to earth was that angels healed fast and they healed clean. He'd heal even faster if he applied himself to it, but that carried a cost he couldn't currently afford.
"Well," Didyus said reluctantly, "I don't agree, but - it's your face. At least let me put a dressing on it. I have an ointment of lavender, comfrey root and horsetail which I've always found to be effective."
Iolaus hung on to the man's arm for a moment, frowning a little as he studied him for any signs of duplicity. He seemed honest enough - and these days that was a pretty good indicator that he probably was. The herbs he'd mentioned made sense too. At least they wouldn't do him any harm. "Yeah," he agreed, loosing his hold and sinking back to the support of the pillows. "Yeah, okay. Just be quick about it, huh?"
"You should have more patience," the healer chided, getting up from his seat to find the ointment he was talking about. "A life lived without restraint leads to bad humors in the heart. Kill you quicker than a knife, that will."
I doubt it …
Iolaus had to quirk a wry smile at the thought. The advice was well intentioned - and it was highly unlikely that the man offering it had any idea of his patient's history. Which was just as well, really. Didyus was obviously both highly competent and extremely dedicated, but he might not be so confident in his skills if he knew the man he was treating had actually been dead for a couple of years.
The ointment turned out to be a soothing one; Iolaus, tensed in readiness to take the sting, relaxed again under its gentle - and liberal -application. Truth was, he'd like nothing better than to be able to stay right where he was, settled into the comfort of supporting pillows and breathing in the sweet scents of lavender and orris root. There was a time - not so long ago in memory, but a lifetime away in events - when he might have done just that. Might have stayed to reap the benefits of expert care, letting the healer pamper his bruises with hot oatmeal poultices lathered with marjoram and honey. He'd have kicked back, content to wait for adventure to catch up with him, and confident that his partner could more than cope with anything the world decided to throw in his direction.
That was before the knife.
Before the dark.
Before he'd seen the light and tasted the true bliss of the Reverie.
Before heaven had opened its gates to the human soul and the portals of hell had been brought to lie, close and ominous, within the reach of mortal ambitions.
Nursery days are over, he reminded himself grimly. The world is a much bigger playground now …
He couldn't be sure, but he suspected the forces which haunted the city had very little to do with Olympian influence. Hera's arm would not be long enough to reach out from the abyss to tempt a man with such power - and Hecate's enchantments were subtler things, mostly spells to ensnare the mind and overwhelm the heart. This power possesed a raw, undisciplined edge - and it reeked of sinister intent. What's more, he had reason to believe that Hercules might not be able to cope with facing it. Not alone. And certainly not ignorant of its source or purpose.
It had already attacked him twice …
"Well," Didyus observed, dipping fingers deep into his ointment pot to start applying a second layer over the first, "I still think this needs stitching, but I'm glad it's not your eye. I wouldn't want to get too much practice treating injuries like that. I'm still not sure how much of his sight Lord Brennus is going to recover. That wound was deep."
"Mmm?" Iolaus had been immersed in his thoughts, but the comment drew his attention. "Yeah - I noticed the patch. How long's he had that?"
The healer snorted. "About two hours," he declared, putting down the pot and wiping his fingers. "I told him he should go back to his rooms and rest, but - no - he's got to be in the thick of everything as usual."
Two hours? the hunter mouthed, a horrifying suspicion taking root in his mind. Just over two hours ago, he'd been stabbing the earth elemental in its eye. The left one. Suddenly the healer had his full consideration.
"So - uh," he asked, trying to make the question sound as casual as he could. "How'd it happen? I mean - something throw rocks at him, too?"
"No," Didyus chuckled, reaching across his table to pick up the heavy clay jug that sat at the back of it. "Funny thing - he said it was some kind insect that got into his eye. A sand fly he thought. But I've never seen a sand fly do that kind of damage. Here - drink this." He pressed a roughly thrown cup into his patient's hands. "It'll help heal those bruises."
"A sand fly?" Iolaus took a cautious sip from the cup, his lip curling at the bitterness that lurked behind the taste of herbs and honey. "That doesn't sound very likely."
"Well - maybe it was wasp. Or a beetle. I've seen some of those leave some very nasty bites." The healer sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You know what I think? I think he was poking around in the old temple and disturbed something he shouldn't have done. Can't say I'd blame him for that, though. The city has always been his life. And this last year - he's been a driven man."
"Yeah?" The hunter took another wary sip. This one tasted even worse than the last. "How so?"
"Well," Didyus sighed a second time, "to start with, he lost his son. They never did find the body. I know he'd been told the water was dangerous, but - well, he wasn't that much older than the prince. They're so reckless at that age. And then his wife - Hestia bless her - she was so distraught at the boy's death that she took her own life. Lord Brennus was the one that found her - bad business, that. They were very close," the healer added, heaving a third sigh. "Then all this business started - ships being sunk in the harbour, fishermen being attacked on the beaches, houses just - falling down. He took it personally. Everything he loved being - shattered around him, I guess. He's been a tower of strength. The King, the council - they all depend on him. And he's the one the city listens too. They need to listen to someone. They're all pretty scared out there."
"I noticed."
Iolaus had been aware of it the minute
he'd walked into the city. Fear. It cloaked Agiori like a dank blanket
thrown over a smoldering fire. Not stark, naked terror, but fear of the worst
kind - an unending, unrelieved dread, eating into the souls of the people,
darkening mind and heart alike.
He knew what that felt like …
They'll do anything to escape this.
Cling to any rock, any hope that's held out to them. Desperate people will
do desperate things.
So what's this Brennus up to?
He didn't know. Nor did he like what he was beginning to suspect. On the surface, Lord Brennus sounded like a paragon of virtue - and had he been the man he'd once been, Iolaus might have dismissed his earlier moment of suspicion as simple fancy. But he'd danced the dance with the darkness which was Dahok for far longer than he cared to think about. He knew all about the power of manipulation - how easy it was to be deceived about intent and purpose.
And how hard it could be to unravel the truth behind the lies.
He'd felt the power on the beach. It had been there again, in the dimly jail. And hadn't been until after Lord Brennus had made his appearance. The stones which had swirled into angry life hadn't done so in some random, undirected attack. They'd been directed by malevolent intent. He had no idea why - but he was getting a pretty good idea of who…
He's the one.
I'm sure of it.
It didn't make a lot of sense on the surface. Why would a man, in the position of power that Brennus so clearly held, want to terrorise his own city? Where would he get the kind of power that would allow him to do so?
And why would he want to blame it on the gods?
Particularly since the Olympian pantheon had a reputation for taking slights and insults very personally …
I don't get it.
What's he got? A death wish?
"I hope Brennus did find something in the old temple that'll stop all this nonsense they're talking in the city." The healer shook his head sorrowfully, expressing the kind of despair the old often felt for those they felt should know better. "Poseidon never asked for those sacrifices, and I doubt he'd want them now. It's just wild talk, that's all."
Sacrifices?
Hadn't Hercules mentioned something about that a couple of days ago?
"What - kind of sacrifices?" the hunter asked warily. Didyus reached across and tapped pointedly at the cup in his patient's hands. His gesture said 'drink up' with the kind of authority few would be willing to argue with. Iolaus wasn't one of them. He dutifully tipped the rest of the cup's contents down his throat as quickly as he could manage and was rewarded with a satisfied smile.
"Well done," the healer said, taking the cup away again. "Don't look so worried, my friend. You're hardly in any danger. The old custom was very clear. The gift to the sea had to be of royal blood. And virginal. No offence but - I suspect you wouldn't qualify on either count."
"Ah - " Iolaus stared at him bemusedly. "Actually, my great grandfather was a - king … Gods!" His head had finally got itself around what lay behind the old man's joke. And it wasn't funny. Not in the slightest.
He surged up from the pillows and leapt to his feet, his aches and bruises utterly forgotten for the moment. "Cystus - and his sister," he demanded, ignoring the frown which creased the old man's features. "Where are they?"
The healer shrugged. "With their grandfather, I expect. If I were him, I wouldn't want them out of my sight again. Not after today."
"They went missing late last night," Jianus was saying as he led the way down the hill. The road was a lot easier to walk going down than it had been climbing up it; the slope was deceptively steep and the path had steps cut into it at discrete intervals. Hercules nodded abstractedly at the information, his mind focused - for some reason - on the fact that this was exactly the kind of path down which Iolaus had always bounced with great enthusiasm. He suspected that - on a good day - neither Iolaus (Iolai? he wondered) would be able to resist the challenge of gravity that the Agiori steps offered.
Except that one now lacked the legs that would let him test his agility - and the other …. Hercules found himself lifting his eyes skywards, unable to help an inward shiver as he did so. The other might now be tempted to take one bounce too many and leap into the air, lifted on wings of pure gold.
He couldn't get the image from his mind. No matter how much he tried to dismiss it, think past it, or just plain ignore it, it came back with startling clarity. Wings. His best friend - so called best friend, he corrected irritatedly, still confused and upset by the revelation - had wings. In some ways, he couldn't understand why the fact was bothering him as much as it was. After all, he was used to having pretty weird things happen in his life and he'd accepted a lot of things much weirder without a moments pause. For one thing, he had a nephew who'd had wings for as long as he'd known him - along with a great nephew who'd inherited his father's propensity for flight. For another, he'd stood and watched as his own sister had generously bestowed a tail on a man who - both in looks and character - was not that far removed from the one who was currently churning his thoughts into tangled knots.
That was different, he frowned, following the guardsman down the street and nodding at his tale about the missing children and how distraught the King had been at finding them gone. Of course the King had been distraught. Who wouldn't be distraught when their grandchildren went missing? The tale was an old one and he barely listened to it, too caught up in his own concerns to pay much attention to the details.
Completely different, he decided, studying the emotions he'd felt the day that Iolaus had won both his fair lady and his fishtail and comparing them to what he was feeling now. The Jester had been searching all his life for somewhere to belong. For someone to love him - as him, and not for want of trying to be something he wasn't.
And that was where the problem lay.
This wasn't a stranger with a friend's face, or even a friend cut from similar cloth and gifted with a similar heart. This was Iolaus - his Iolaus, the golden haired hunter who'd carved a place at his side and a deeper one in his soul. The man who'd been his friend, his confident, and his partner for most of his life. They'd been best man at each other's weddings, shared the joys of fatherhood - and the pains of subsequent loss. They fought side by side through bitter campaigns, laughed and danced at festivals, hunted monsters and defied the gods - together. In all the rich veins of his life, woven in with the sweet recollections of his wife and family, irretrievably entangled with the memories of his mother, there was always Iolaus. His friend. His sword brother. His support and his constant inspiration.
He was my hero, he'd told Nebula, that dark empty day when a piece of his soul had been stripped away from him. How could he have been otherwise? He was only mortal - and yet he had constantly kept pace with the son of a god, facing the same dangers, choosing the same path with a willing and joyful heart. The space his death had left had been empty and echoing and utterly unfillable.
Until the day he'd defied heaven itself and made his way back to stand - once again - at his partner's side.
Pretending to be something he wasn't. Letting me think …
Think what? Hercules just wasn't sure anymore. He felt torn in two; torn between the great love he held for the man - and the agitated turmoil that thinking of the angel inspired.
He was hurt, he was angry, he was confused - and the empty pages of that new rulebook were taunting him, reminding him of how much he just didn't know anymore. He wanted to slam it shut and throw it away, desperately needing the certainty of a world he was afraid was now lost to him forever.
Desperately afraid that - if he did - he'd also throw away the foundation on which that world had been built.
But how can I trust him after this?
I don't even know if I want too …
"You can see the whole of the harbour from here." Jianus had paused halfway down the hill and was busy indicating the sweep of the bay, which was laid out below them. "The first ship went down over there - just beyond the lea of the cliffs. There was calm water and no wind - and it just keeled over, almost as if it had been pushed. Six men drowned. There's been seven more sinkings since then - although we're not sure about the 'Sunchaser'. Her Captain was known for his fondness for the wineskin - and she ran aground on the Trident rocks. They're over there." The guardsman pointed out the spot, which lay almost directly below the looming shape of the castle. "The old temple's somewhere down there too. Can you see the opening into the sea caves below the cliff? It's much clearer at low tide. They used to sail the sacrificial boat through there, back in the old days. But then we had the earthquake and King Prirenius closed the whole place down. He was King Cephren's great grandfather, you know? He was the one that built the new temple at the other end of town. We've worshipped there ever since."
"Since the earthquake." Hercules heaved an inner sigh, determinedly pushing his personal dilemmas to one side so that he could give the man his full attention. His issues with Iolaus could wait. This apparent curse on Agiori couldn't.
"Yeah, that's right." Jianus was a personable young man, the sort who ought to go far in the service of a good king. Hercules didn't know if Cephren was a good king or not. He'd heard he was - but then, if you believed everything you heard, Xena was the daughter of Ares and Joxer was a warrior to be feared. "Of course, back then everyone believed that Pirenius was right. That the earthquake was a clear sign that Poseidon didn't want him to sacrifice his youngest daughter. Now they're not so sure."
"Sacrifice his …" Hercules shook his head in weary disbelief. Did people really still fall for that kind of nonsense? Most of the gods had given up on human sacrifice a long time ago. It was messy, it made extra work for Hades and it was a great way to lose worshippers. Only Hera had clung to the outmoded custom, and that mostly because she'd never cared who she oppressed as long as she got what she wanted doing it. There were always one or two psychopaths who were willing to serve that kind of cause. People who cared more about power than they did anything else.
Rather like Hera herself, really.
"Pirenius sound's like an enlightened man," he concluded approvingly.
And it sound's like my uncle knew it.
Poseidon wasn't a fool. If he'd realised that he get more willing worship - and more of it - by canceling the old arrangement then he'd have happily shaken down a few pillars in one of his older temples. Making it look like a beneficent gesture rather than an admission of defeat.
That way, neither of them would have to back down …
"We used to think so," Jianus sighed, staring down at the dark spot at the foot of the cliff face. "But we've done nothing to offend the gods. And yet the ships sink, the beach swallows up good men, and nobody is safe from attack. Not even you," he pointed out resignedly.
"Mmm," Hercules acknowledged grimly. The sore spot over his ribs was a nagging reminder of that - not to mention the bruises which had begun to purple his arm just above his gauntlet. Much more of that kind of treatment and he'd look as bad as Iolaus had done when he'd left him with the healer … "I don't know," he sighed, frowning at the deceptively calm surface of the sea. "I don't think this is the work of the gods, Jianus. Not our gods, anyway. There's some other power at work here. I just wish I knew what it was."
"Not the gods?" The young man looked puzzled. "What other powers are there?"
Good question.
Memories skittered through his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Grey horsemen, unleashed on an unsuspecting world. A creature of unbearable light and one of monstrous darkness. Michael. And Dahok.
Compared to either of them, the Olympians were warm and neighborly.
Well - at least they're family…
"More than you know," the son of Zeus considered, unable to keep the gloom from his voice. Jianus frowned at him.
"I don't understand," he said. "If there are other powers - why would the gods let them plague us? And what would we have done to offend them, anyway? No - " he shook his head determinedly. "We've upset Poseidon somehow and - "
"Jianus," Hercules interrupted firmly, "this is not Poseiden's doing. It isn't his style for one thing. If your city had upset him - well, he blows up quick and he strikes out fast. He'd let you know with an earthquake. Or a tidal wave. Maybe even both," he added, half under his breath. "But this - sinking a few ships, throwing a few stones … if it were one of our gods I'd be looking around for Demios, or Discord. Even then, I'm not sure either of them would have the patience to keep up a campaign like this. Someone has put a lot of effort into filling Agiori with panic and fear. But I don't know who - and I don't know why."
"Not Poseidon?" Jinaus echoed doubtfully. "You're sure?"
"Uhuh."
"But," the young man breathed, turning to glance up at the castle. "That means - gods." Alarm and horror chased across his features and his eyes went very wide. "The King - the council … They're about to make a terrible mistake!"
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'Heaven Must be Missing an Angel'- Chapter Five. 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