There was no sign of Iolaus when Hercules returned to the stadium. Aphidas accounted for his absence, an explanation that required several knowing looks between himself and his brother. Hercules - who knew Iolaus better than they did, and the habits of the priestesses of Artemis almost as well - merely smiled and shook his head at the wild suggestions the brothers were making.
"I think she’d lured him away to ravage him," Elatus considered with relish. "I mean, they can’t - not in the temple, you know, so - she takes him out into the woods, gets him alone ..." He sighed, the sound of a man envying another his favourite fantasy. "We may never see him again."
Hercules chuckled softly. "I think you’re just jealous," he said, resting his weight on the equipment table and stretching out his legs. "And chasing a lost cause. The priestesses of Artemis take a vow of chastity - and they take it very seriously, too. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "they’re not like the maidens of Hestia. No one insists on them being virgin, but - once they take the vow …" His hands spread to illustrate finality and Aphidas breathed out a wounded sigh.
"Shame," he concluded gloomily. "I’ve seen them, you know? Long lean warrior women, muscles in the right places, curves to match and legs all the way up ... They come into town occasionally. Selling skins and horns and other stuff. But not all Amazons are priestesses, surely?"
"No," Hercules agreed, recalling events that neither Aphidas nor his brother were likely to believe. "But you did say this lodge was a hunting shrine, not a tribal village. And Iolaus said that this Missy was Protector here. That would make her high priestess - and definitely out of bounds." He allowed himself a wry smile. "I think even I misjudged him over that."
"So why did she ask him to stay?" Elatus asked. The son of Zeus shrugged.
"Maybe she just likes him. He is good company, you know. And - uh - in a house full of chaste women he can be trusted. Unlike you two, obviously."
Both brothers had the grace to look abashed. "Well," Aphidas allowed, "I still envy the two of you. Staying out there, with them." Hercules laughed.
"There speaks a man who’s never fought with - or alongside - an Amazon. They are a noble people, Aphidas. And if you’re going to be king, you should learn that now - and not the hard way. All women should be treated as equals, not just objects to desire. Remember that, and you might find yourself more welcome in their company. And find welcome in their company, without any other expectation."
Elatus shrugged, accepting the point but still wrestling with immediate issues. "It’s just that - well, Iolaus seemed pretty keen to walk home a woman who you say won’t be giving him anything in return."
"Isn’t friendship enough? Iolaus may have a keen eye for the opposite sex but - he respects women, Elatus. He doesn’t use them. He even treats Echidna like a lady. When she’s acting like one," Hercules added, half under his breath. "Listen - I want to call in on your father before the games begin. Do you think he’d see me this afternoon?"
"Sure." Aphidas snatched up his tunic and threw a matching one at his brother. "Father will love to meet you. Azan’s told him so much about you."
‘So much’ turned out to be a vast number of wild stories along with the few that might possibly be claimed to be true. Even so, Hercules spent a pleasant hour or two with the king, discussing his encounter with the bandits on the way and other issues politic to the region. Arcas’s other guests were being feted to a pre-game feast that night, but the son of Zeus had the perfect reason to excuse himself - along with the grateful support of Azan, the youngest of the three princes.
"I told Iolaus you’d upset them," the young man apologised as he escorted the hero down to the northern gate. "I hope you don’t mind ..."
"Not at all." Hercules slapped the prince on the shoulder with a friendly tap that made him stagger. "I try to avoid politics if I can. But some people insist on dragging it into the conversation."
"Well, Garcian and the others can be argumentative. They’ve been fighting over the Cerynites Valley for years. The only reason they haven’t made it outright war is because they can’t afford to pay for competent mercenaries." He threw his company a canny grin. "Father makes sure there are better offers, you know."
Hercules hadn’t known, but he could understood the reasoning: Pheneus was a small city in the backwoods of Arcadia; hardly a place to attract the ambitious, however hotly contested the local squabbles might be. Even back in the days when Xena had been seeking to conquor the region, her army had ignored it in pursuit of sweeter prizes. Of course, most mercenaries only fought for pay, and for the sensible ones being paid not to fight would have decided appeal. It wasn’t the way he’d deal with the problem, but then he wasn’t the king. "Is that why there were mercenaries in the marketplace today?" Azan shrugged.
"Probably. Groups drift in on the rumours of the dispute and we try to pay them to pass on before Garcian or the rest can recruit them. Doesn’t always work, but - so far we’ve avoided any real difficulties."
Hercules nodded his comprehension of the situation. There was always war, or the rumour of it, somewhere in the world. His half brother made sure of that. Sometimes the best a ruler could do was just try and keep it off his doorstep.
"Will you join us in the royal box tomorrow?" the prince asked as they reached the gate. Its shadow was long and edged with the soft golds of the setting sun. "Father would welcome you."
"I’d love too. Just so long as he won’t mind me cheering on a rival competitor."
Azan laughed. "You won’t be. He and I’ll probably be cheering for Iolaus, too. If either Aphidas or Elatus win the arrow they’ll both be insufferable for months. It’s about time they were brought down a peg or two. Now - you know where you’re going? Past the fishing docks, across the fields to the west and into the wood between the cedar trees. The path is marked by tokens so you can’t miss it. Stay on it if you can - the wood is sacred and they prefer you to have the Protector’s permission to travel through it ... but that won’t exactly apply to you, I suppose."
Hercules smiled. "I’ll stay on the path. You don’t mind - having an Amazon Temple so close to the city?"
"Mind?" The amusement in the young man’s expression spoke volumes. "This isn’t Athens, you know. We’re country bumpkins here. The Hermia and Garcian’s feuding are the most exciting things that ever happen to us. But we like it that way. And tales of blood-thirsty warrior women, poised to wreak revenge on the slightest trespass really helps dissuade the mercenaries - especially since they’ve sworn to help defend the city should the need arise. They’re good neighbours. Welcome ones. And I’m keeping you from their hospitality. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Hercules."
"Good night."
Hercules strolled out through the archway and into the waiting dusk, waving a casual farewell to the prince as the gatekeeper closed the gates behind him. He was a little later than he’d planned to be, and he hoped his - as yet unmet - hostess would not be offended by his late arrival. The nightly mist was beginning to rise from the lake, tainting the air above it with an unsavoury scent, and he extended his pace a little. He was beginning to see the appeal of Iolaus’s choice of accommodation. No doubt the people of Pentheos were used to the bitter fumes that lurked along the lakeside in the dark, but the night air within the cedar woods would be far sweeter than any hospitality that palace or inn within the city might have to offer.
Maybe it isn’t the woman, he laughed to himself. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere ...
He reached the last jetty just as the last shaft of sun ducked behind the shoulder of the mountain and nearly walked straight past the scene of disarray that marred the otherwise well tended docks. It was the flowers that caught his attention. A gleam of white blossom lay scattered across the planks, bruised and crushed by booted feet. He paused to frown at their damaged beauty, then deepened the frown into a scowl. A carved wooden token lay stamped into the earth at the edge of the planks and he dipped his hand down to pry it up, recognising its cut and painted shape almost immediately.
Some inattentive competitor had obviously dropped his game token without realising he’d done so. The poor man was probably going frantic searching for it by now. Hercules half turned back towards the city, then remembered that they wouldn’t open the gate again until the morning. The mist was growing thicker and less appealing by the minute. He sighed and tucked the token into his belt for safe keeping. He’d be able to return it on the morrow. Right now he was running late - and Iolaus would be undoubtedly wondering what had become of him.
He found the way through the wood without difficulty, following the carved totems and their feathered embellishments until he sighted the flicker of torchlight ahead of him. It led him to a wooden slatted rope bridge that lay over a shallow stream and on the other side of that lay the lodge that was his destination.
There was no mistaking it. It was almost as large as the palace he’d just left, being constructed around five massive trees, their branches laced together to support a network of platforms and balconies, and the space beneath divided by walls of painted leather and lattice work. A shallow flight of wooden steps lead up to a wide veranda, a pair of torches flickering on either side of a carved doorframe - and lying in the middle of the entranceway was the largest bear Hercules had ever seen.
"You must be - Ursus," he concluded, coming to a halt in the clearing and studying the animal with wary consideration. The bear lifted its snout and sniffed the air suspiciously, a low growl emerging from its throat. Hercules held his ground and wondered what to do. There didn’t seem to be anyone about ...
"Stop it, Ursus," a voice commanded from somewhere above them both. The next moment a lithe figure vaulted over the upper balcony and landed easily at the foot of the steps; to all intents and purposes a suede clad Amazon in tight laced breeches and an equally tight jerkin. Her dark hair was caught back from a dark skinned face and the stance she took up was a defensive one. Hercules had barely time to register her presence before she was joined by a second, equally noteworthy figure, this one in a panelled skirt and a tooled leather top. She was joined by a third, a match to her sisters in buckskin and feathers. One dark, one light and the last fiery auburn, three bewitching beauties whose rapid arrival and intimidating stance might have been unnerving - if they’d looked old enough to be any kind of threat.
Hercules took a step back and grinned. Not one of the three could be more than sixteen at first guess.
"Who are you, and what brings you to the hall of Artemis after sundown?" the middle of the three demanded. The bear had risen to his haunches behind them, a towering shadow in the guttering torchlight. Now he was intimidating.
The son of Zeus spread his hands to show his good intent, not entirely sure how to measure this reception. "My name is Hercules," he explained, "and I was invited. At least - I thought I was."
"Hercules?" The dark skinned nymph stepped forward to give him a closer look. "Oh - right. Okay." She turned to her companions with a broad smile. "Hey, Niale - go tell Missy we got company. And Lupa, fetch him a cold one, huh?"
Both girls turned and ran, one into the darkened archway past the still looming bear, the other to one side, catching a dangling rope to quickly shin back up to the balcony from which she’d descended. The one that remained turned back with a warm smile. "Hi," she offered. "I’m Alceste. This is Ursus. He won’t bite." She dimpled in the torchlight. "Not unless I tell him too."
"Uh - I’d rather you didn’t," Hercules said, eyeing the beast with misgivings. It was - as Iolaus had said - a big bear. Alceste giggled.
"Gimme," she requested, holding her hand out as she did so. He placed his into hers, dwarfing the delicate fingers that pulled him closer to the steps. "Ursus," she commanded firmly. "This is Hercules. A friend."
The bear shuffled forward, its massive nostrils taking in the scent of the man, weighing him up with disturbingly bright eyes. Then it yawned, a wide demonstration of teeth and endless tongue that ended with a soft smacking of lips and a scented expellation of breath.
"How do you do, Ursus," Hercules said politely. Alceste smiled, pushing the huge beast to one side so as to lead her guest into the lodge. He followed cautiously, one eye still on the animal as it shuffled down and settled back to sleep.
Inside, wonders awaited him.
This was nothing like the Temple of Hermes, which had been stark and cool, classical in its lines and minimal in its decoration. This was a woodland hall, an explosive celebration of colour and shape, its floors covered in furs and skins, its pillars carved to imitate trees and flowers and sleek beasts. The walls were hung with painted shields and draped with intricate fabrics. A curved staircase ascended into the branch woven roof, its handrail supported by brightly feathered arrows and the whole place was lit by leaping torches - along with a low fire pit that filled the centre of the lodge.
It smelt of cedar smoke, sweet flowers and forest mosses.
And it seemed to be alive with animals.
The dogs caught his attention first. Four handsome hounds of varying sizes rose to their haunches from around the room and came to sniff at his hands. A young hind and an even younger fawn were nestled by one of the huge curving tree trunks. A pair of pigs were sprawled in front of the fire. A squirrel skittered away up the pillars and vanished into the roof space. And an owl blinked down at him from a perch half way up the stairs.
There were also five more women in the room, one tending the fire, the others working on various tasks, from fletching arrows to sewing leathers. They seemed a little older than the three that had greeted him and he glanced around wondering - firstly where his friend might be hiding, and secondly which of these warrior priestesses was the Protector.
None, it seemed. The curtains at the top of the stairs parted and a figure emerged from between them. She wasn’t wearing elaborate leathers, or armour; she was dressed in nothing more than a drape of soft cream doeskin, belted short in front, long at the back. Her right shoulder was bare, and the forearm below it was encircled by an intricately jewelled bracer that ran from wrist to elbow. Her tanned and muscled legs were laced with slender thongs, and her girdle was a soft gleam of silvered links under the tumbled folds of her dress. Her head was bare and her hair was caught back from her face with an intricate knot from which blonde tresses cascaded as far as her waist. She was a far cry from the fiery tribal leader that he’d been expecting. And an even further one from the radiant vision of loveliness that Iolaus had led him to expect.
She’s a Lady. An Amazon - a Protector , a hunter - a priestess, you know? She is a wonderful, kind, beautiful woman ...
Well, perhaps. She was certainly a lady; she descended the stairs with confident steps and a warm smile of greeting. She was a woman in her early thirties, he thought, past the first bloom of her youth and developing the presence that goes with maturity. But if she was beautiful it was the kind of beauty that came from the inner self and not the no nonsense set of her features. She had a certain althletic grace, that much was true - and there were hints of a curvaceous figure beneath the soft drape - but his eyes would have passed over her in a crowd without even remembering her. Hercules found himself wondering what it was about her that had caught his friend’s attention.
"Hercules. Welcome." She greeted him warmly, extending both her hands, which he took, bending to gallantly lift one to his lips. She was tiny, scarcely taller than Alceste, who seemed a dark beauty indeed standing beside her mistress. Hercules towered over them both, but the lady seemed unconcerned at being eclipsed by his shadow.
Maybe it was her silver eyes.
They were her best feature, deep sparkling wells which contained both amusement and wisdom in equal amounts. They held a certain sense of power, hinting at a strength that lay behind the otherwise unremarkable facade. And they were laughing at him. He was sure of it ...
Two more dogs had bounded down the staircase in her wake, one a massive, dark coated mastiff, the other a tiny, fluff haired beast that could have practically sat in the palm of his hand. It yapped at his ankles with enthusiasm, weaving in and out of the legs of the rest of the pack who still crowded close. Niale followed them down, and reached to scoop the miniature hound into her arms where it settled, eyeing the visitor with bright and curious eyes.
"We were beginning to think you weren’t going to get here tonight. Still, better late than never, as they say." His hostess was smiling, but the smile slipped a little as she glanced past his shoulder and found no-one there. "Isn’t - Iolaus with you?"
Hercules shook his head in puzzlement. "No - no, he came on ahead … You mean he isn’t here? He got some message or other to meet you - or one of your people - at the dock, earlier this afternoon. I thought - "
She frowned, mirroring his puzzlement. "I’ve not seen him since breakfast. A message? I didn’t send any word - and no-one’s even gone into the city today. Has anyone seen our noble hunter?" She glanced round the room, elliciting a series of perplexed denials. "Alceste? You’ve been keeper of the door ..."
"Well, yeah, but - no-one’s come to it." The young Amazon looked as bewildered as the rest of them. "Till Hercules turned up just now. You want me to go look - ?"
The nod of confirmation was a worried one. The Protector took charge with immediate and admirable assurance. "Yes. Take Hunter - and Champion. Check the fields. Niale - you take Steadfast and Warrior along the lakeside. Lupa - where’s Lupa?"
"Here, Missy." Lupa emerged from behind a partitioning curtain, carrying a tray loaded with goblets and a jug. "Something up?"
Missy nodded a second time. "Iolaus is missing. Take Ursus and search the backwoods."
Missing. The word had a ominous ring. Hercules frowned at it, the thin skein of worry that had been born by news of his friend’s absence slowly tightening itself into a knot of concern. He watched Alceste race from the lodge, the largest hound and a smaller, splotch coated dog on her heels. Niale handed the smallest dog to her mistress and followed after them, two more of the pack in tow. "It’s pretty dark out there," he warned as Lupa put down her burden and headed for the door in turn. "Be careful."
"The moon will be up soon," Missy noted, moving past him to stare out at the night. The animal in her arms barked softly and nuzzled at her chin. "You’re sure he was ahead of you?"
"By a couple of hours," Hercules frowned, his face furrowing into anxious lines. "I just assumed -" His mind rewound recent steps, retracing his own journey to the lodge - and concern became anxious dread. "No," he muttered, pulling out the token he’d found and staring at it in the torchlight. Not just any token, but the last token. The one Iolaus had claimed, and that mercenary had wanted so badly … "No," he denied, not wanting to believe the worst. He glanced down at the priestess, who was looking up at him in some alarm. "I’ll be back," he told her, already running for the doorway and the night beyond. "Just pray that I’m wrong ..."
Hercules raced back through the woods, covering ground with long steady strides that ate distance with ease. Moonlight raced ahead of him, the silver orb rising above the trees and throwing their branches into stark relief. The world was a monochrome of shadows and silvered surfaces, empty of all sound but the crunch of his feet and the soft whisper of the woods. At other times, in other circumstances, he might have stopped to admire the beauty of the scene, but his thoughts, and his attention, were fixed on the memory of scattered blossoms and a dockside disturbed by signs of conflict. He should have seen it, should have read the messages left for him to find. There was no doubt in his mind: Iolaus had been lured away and ambushed, probably by the same surly mercenary band that the two of them had fought earlier in the day. Hercules had no clear idea of why - he was too busy worrying about the end result, which imagination painted in potentially lurid colours. Catch a man alone on a deserted dock, hold him down, slit his throat, and you could tip the body into the lake with none the wiser to the deed ...
"Going somewhere, Hercules?"
Discord’s laughing tones slammed his precipitate progress to a halt. He slewed to a stop in the dry leaf litter and turned, composing his expression into guarded lines. Discord tended to stalk where Ares sent her - and his half brother was always bad news.
"You won’t catch them, you know. Not now." She smiled, shimmying out of the undergrowth to look him up and down with amused appreciation.
"Them?" he queried, trying to sound nonchalant, and she found him an evil chuckle.
"Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it yet," she taunted, moving close enough to walk a teasing finger up the line of his chest. He caught at her hand and held it, and she pouted at his expression. "Well - maybe you haven’t." She tugged her fingers free and stepped away, glancing back with a coyness he knew was assumed. "But you were looking for your friend, weren’t you? You know - the eager puppy that’s always running to keep up with you? Blond, about so high - " Her hand indicated the relevant height with confidence, "kinda cute? For a mortal, anyway ..."
He caught her arm and spun her towards him, anger beginning to smoulder in his eyes. "Where is he?" he demanded. She stared down at his hand on her arm and then up at his expression, quirking a wouldn’t you like to know smile.
"Can’t tellll you," Discord mocked sweetly. He tightened his grip and she flinched. "Hey! Didn’t your momma teach you to be nice to a lady?"
"You’re no lady," he said sternly. "And I asked you a question. Where is Iolaus? What’s happened to him?"
She stared pointedly at his hand and after a moment he relaxed his clenching grip, his frown deepening into resolute lines. He did not let go.
"I really can’t tell you," she said, pouting a little. "But don’t worry. Some friends of ours extended him an invitation he couldn’t possibly turn down. And he’ll be just fine - if you’re a good boy and co-operate." He flexed his fingers and she glared at him, wincing with pain. "Don’t blame the messenger," she sulked.
"Then give me the message," he advised tightly.
Discord thought about it, deliberately staring into the night, and he held his temper with difficulty.
"Okay," she decided. "Here’s the deal. You win that pretty little arrow thing they’ve put up for a prize - and golden boy will miss the next boat ride to the netherworld. Strictly one way trip," she added pointedly.
"What?" Hercules reacted, not entirely sure he’d heard correctly.
"You heard me. Ares wants the arrow - and since you could win it without breaking a sweat - well, we just thought you might like a little incentive. Simple really. One itty bitty arrow - " she put out one hand and weighed a phantom prize before her other hand flipped over to indicate the alternative, "- or one ex hero." Her fingers snapped shut; her smile was cruel. "What d’ya think?"
His hold on her slipped away, his lips tightening as he considered her words. He didn’t like what he was hearing, nor what it implied. She could be bluffing, but somehow he didn’t think so.
"How do I know he isn’t dead already?" he demanded and her black clad shoulders shrugged.
"Well, you could go all the way to Tarterus and ask. I’m sure Hades would welcome the visit. But if I were you, I’d save myself a trip. It’s a long way. And you might miss the start of the games ..."
"Why does Ares want the arrow?" The question was self directed and she adopted a smug smile, not bothering to answer it. Hercules paced away, wrestling with what little information he had - and what options it offered him. "Let’s see if I have this straight. Ares has arranged for Iolaus to be kidnapped - and if I don’t enter the games and win the prize - he’ll have him killed."
She pantomimed a little round of applause. "Told you it was simple. Oh, don’t look so worried, Hercules. You can win. And even if you don’t - " her smile became an anticipatory leer, "- I don’t suppose Karvo will want to kill him all at once. So you still might have a chance of rescuing something ..."
He turned on her angrily and she stepped back, quickly wafting into nothingness. He grabbed, but she was gone, leaving nothing but a mocking laugh behind her.
Hercules stood alone in the moonlight, his hands slowly clenching up into fists of frustration. His head tipped back and he called out, anxiously - desperately - knowing only too well that he would get no reply.
" Iolaus! Iolaus ...!"
Iolaus jerked awake, emerging from numbed oblivion with a startled twitch, as if someone, somewhere, had demanded his attention. Consciousness was a mistake; sensation flooded back with a vengeance, pouring equal amounts of pain and discomfort over his self awareness. The pain seemed to have no specific source, but the discomfort was centred on his wrists and arms, the inevitable result of being suspended from them. He was hanging in some sort of a cave, the flicker of torchlight painting his gently swaying shadow on rough rock walls and making it dance disconcertingly.
His head hurt.
His chest hurt - from the impact of boots and the absence of oxygen.
And his arms hurt, his wrists twisted up with coarse rope and the whole of his weight dragging down on them.
He also felt a little sick, but he closed his eyes and swallowed, and after a moment the sensation went away.
This is not good, he concluded, glancing up at the hemp that held him suspended, then down at the shadowed floor. It was patterned with dampness, just as he was; remnants of lake water still dripped from his boots and chilled his skin. The rock surface was barely two hands breadth from a stretched toe, but it might as well have been a bottomless pit.
"Damn", he considered softly, the word mouthed rather than spoken. He glanced up a second time, trying to distinguish knotted rope from overall gloom. It was hard to make out, but it looked as if his captors had suspended him from a wooden beam that ran the width of the rough cut chamber. Not a natural cave then, but one carved from the bones of the earth by the hand of man. A mine, perhaps. And a deep one, going on the feel of the air and the way the torch flickered so fitfully.
He eased tensioned shoulders carefully, deciding he probably should stop drawing attention to the fact that he was awake. The space around him was so quiet he could practically hear his heartbeat, but that didn’t mean he could be certain of being alone.
"No." The word was delivered with firm denial, in a soft velvet voice that Iolaus could not fail to recognise. "The games will take three days, so you’ll just have to stay here until they’re over."
Ares?
The sound seemed to come from behind him, but it was hard to tell; while the words were muffled as if by distance they echoed around the enclosed space, picked up by the rock and magnified into mocking whispers.
"And what are we supposed to do for three days?"
That was Karvo. The conversation was moving closer, and Iolaus dropped his head to conceal his wakefulness, taking long slow breaths to calm the racing of his heart. He didn’t know what Ares had to do with his situation, but the god of war was bad news, whatever he was up to.
"I’m sure you’ll find something to entertain you." The suggestion was dismissive, edged with contempt. There was no doubt that the possibility of Karvo or his little band becoming bored was of absolutely no interest to their master.
"But, my lord - "
"Enough." Ares growled the admonition with impatience. It also announced his arrival in the cave, the captive immediately conscious of the looming aura of presence that accompanied the equally looming shadow that suddenly filled the chamber. Not only was he there, but he was barely bothering to mask his divine nature. Iolaus shivered involuntarily, the chill that ran down his spine having nothing to do with the lingering dankness with which he was shrouded. "You had your chance to serve me and you screwed it up. So you can just concentrate on keeping my little package safe until my dear brother delivers the goods. You will stay here until I tell you otherwise, understand?"
Karvo’s feet shuffled. "Yes, my lord. Whatever you say."
"Good." Submission restored the god’s mood almost instantly. He strolled into his captive’s line of sight, which - being currently restricted to a limited area of floor - merely revealed a pair of immaculate black boots. "Good. Now then ..."
A disdainful finger hooked under a dropped chin and lifted; for one brief insane moment Iolaus contemplated the pleasure of kicking the Olympian right where it would hurt the most - before sense reasserted itself and he remembered that he was unlikely to cause much damage in such an attack. Ares, of course, would still retaliate. And that was likely to hurt.
"I know you’re awake," the velvet voice drawled with sarcastic amusement. "So don’t bother pretending otherwise."
He reluctantly re-opened the eyes he’d just slammed shut. The god of war greeted him with an indulgent smile. "Now that’s better. Comfortable?" He laughed, stepping back to contemplate his prisoner’s situation with amused satisfaction. Iolaus glared at him, and he laughed a second time. "You see, Karvo? He’s not afraid of me. Comes with hanging around my goody two shoes brother too long. A man loses his respect for the gods. Of course," he savoured the words with relish, "now he’s just hanging ..."
Karvo, who’d moved to stand beside his master, laughed, echoing the god’s confident chuckle. He stopped abruptly as Ares snapped him a look of annoyance.
"Just make sure he stays hanging," Ares growled. "He’s slippery. Cunning as a fox, wily as a satyr." He returned his attention to Iolaus as he spoke, stalking around him as if he were a piece of meat hung up for the master butcher to inspect. "And stubborn," he added, emphasising this assessment with an authoritative finger. "Too stubborn to give up even when he has no hope of winning a fight. I admire that in a man," he concluded, returning to face the subject of his inspection with a knowing smile. "Dogged. Determined. The kind of mortal that’s so noble minded that he’s even prepared to face down a god if the moment demands it. Foolish, of course," he added, the smile widening. "But admirable. In a way. And decidedly irritating ..."
His hand slapped out, the back of it impacting into an unprotected stomach and nearly folding its owner in two. Iolaus gasped, all the air driven from his lungs and his eyes watering with pain; the impetus of the blow set him swinging and his weight dragged on his tensioned arms. It took him a moment to recover his breath and he had to shake his head to refocus his vision. He gritted his teeth and tensed himself ready for the next one; where Ares was concerned that had practically been a love tap.
"Sometimes I wonder," the god of war was saying, "why I haven’t just -" He’d turned towards Karvo as he spoke and his expression had dropped into a pensive frown. "Where did you get that?" he demanded abruptly, staring at the mercenary who - after that little demonstration of strength - had warily shuffled a step or two away from his side.
"Get what?" Karvo questioned suspiciously, glancing back over his shoulder to try and fathom what the god was looking at.
"That," Ares snapped. His hand shot out and back, leaving Karvo to grasp at his ear with startled pain. The delicate crystal no longer hung from his earlobe. Instead it nestled in the palm of his god, where dark eyes stared down at it greedily.
"Won it in a card game," the mercenary muttered, clearly peeved by the cavalier treatment. "It’s just a bit of crystal. You want it? It’s yours."
Ares’s face lit up with an evil smile.
"Just a bit of crystal," he chuckled, lifting it to let it dangle in front of his eyes, which danced with gratified delight. "Do you know what this is?" He snatched it back before Karvo could reach for it, turning to show his prize to his prisoner, who frowned at it in puzzlement. "Do you?"
Iolaus shook his head, staring at the piece of jewellery as it was twisted this way and that in front of him. It was a tear shaped crystal encased in a fine silver cage, the metal work intricately wrought and the stone itself a soft translucent white. It was a woman’s jewel, he decided, hardly a tempting prize for the god of war. Except ... He leaned forward a little - as far as his uncomfortable position allowed him to - drawn by something in the crystal’s depths. A faint green light was shimmering there, a whisper of power, a hint of something akin to that which he had sensed in the arrow he had had ambitions to win. Now he looked closer at it, this crystal and the arrow seemed to have been cut from the same kind of gemstone.
And he was sure he’d felt that peculiar twist of energy once before ...
Sudden fingers snatched it away from sight; he was staring into Ares’s face, the god frowning at him with perplexity. "You do know," the dark voice considered, sounding suspicious. "When did you - Gyaaah," Ares realised, his expression twisting into irked comprehension. "That business with Callisto, curse her. You used the Chronos stone - or at least the echo of it that her meddling created. You stepped outside the order of time. Which means that the other pieces of the staff will react to you - the way they do to me, or Hercules, or anyone who’s been touched directly by Chronos’s power." He turned and stalked away, staring at the blank rock wall with a pensive frown, his hand weighing the pendant as if he were contemplating its worth.
Iolaus’s mind was racing. The Chronos stone? That was what that soft pulse of power reminded him of. He’d chased the vengeful goddess across decades, frantic to foil her attempt on Hercules’s life before it had truly begun - and had had to use the power of the stone in one last, desperate gesture, restoring the status quo, and nearly getting killed by Callisto in the process. But there was only one such stone in existence, the version he had retrieved from that other timeline reduced to ashes by Callisto’s power. So what was Ares talking about, and what did it mean? Other pieces? What staff?
"I didn’t expect this," the god admitted, turning back with the kind of gloating smile that did not bode well. "Another piece, so soon? Oh, this is my lucky day. I wonder what - ?" His smile grew wider. "Let’s try it, shall we?" He glanced at Karvo, who was watching him in total incomprehension, and then rejected him with a disdainful shake of his head.
"Mm-mh," he decided. "If this is what I think it is, that would be a real waste." His head turned a little further and his eyes inevitably fell on his prisoner, who could hardly avoid being noticed. "Of course," Ares breathed. "You already have an affinity ..."
He stepped close. Then closer still, his dark eyes boring into stubborn blue ones, weighing up the man, much as he had weighed the crystal earlier.
"Yes," he decided, calculation curling his lips, which he licked with anticipation. His eyes flicked to the crystal in his hand, then back to his captive, whose mouth went very dry.
"Oh boy," Iolaus muttered, not at all sure what the god was up to, but very certain he was about to find out, one way or the other ...
Ares closed his fingers around the jewel. His fist jabbed forward, his knuckles slamming into his captive’s breastbone, just above his heart. He paused there for a moment, savouring the inevitable wince of pain that chased across his victim’s face. Then he twisted, a sharp, sudden movement of the hand that was followed by a swift backwards tug, almost as if he jerked something free.
Iolaus arched in involuntary reaction, fighting back a scream that emerged straight from his soul. It was a scream steeped in utter agony; his heart had leapt in response to that movement, beginning to struggle and pound within the prison of his ribcage. Ares smiled and tugged back a little further. The hunter’s scream became an incoherent and primeval cry. Something - some force - had reached deep inside his chest and was ripping the heart right out of him ...
The moon was high in the night sky by the time Hercules returned to the lodge. The soft flicker of torchlight offered a warm refuge from the chill of the night, but he did not go in. Instead he found a place to sit on the shallow steps in front of the entrance and slumped there, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin cupped in his hands.
A few moments later, Alceste appeared out of the woods, a pair of dispirited hounds sloping at her heels. She too sought a resting place on the steps; her sideways glance at the dejected hero did nothing to cheer her expression.
Niale was the next to appear. The dogs joined their companions on the top step. She sat next to her fellow Amazon and sighed, despondently.
"Find anything?" Alceste asked. Her answer was a shrug and a sorrowful shake of the girls head. "Bummer."
They sat in empty silence for a while, until Ursus shambled across the narrow bridge and Lupa slid down from his back.
"Yeah?" Alceste asked, looking up hopefully. Lupa shook her head exactly the way Niale had done.
"Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero." She sat in the space that the two girls made between them, and all three heaved an identical sigh.
"Missy is gonna be pissed," Alceste concluded after a moment’s heavy silence. One of the dogs that lay behind her lifted its head and barked once, a soft agreement that spawned another of those synchronous sighs.
The silence came back, a blanket of gloom settling around the entire world.
"We can look again tomorrow," Niale announced all of a sudden, trying to sound encouraging. Alceste threw her a look of exasperation.
"Yeah, right. And there’s three places we might find him, yeah?"
"Dead in a ditch?" Lupa suggested.
"Halfway to Athens," was Niale’s contribution.
"In some floozy’s bed," Alceste capped tightly. "Whichever way, she’s not going to be happy. She liked him. She really liked him."
"I liked him," Lupa protested. Niale agreed with a nod.
"Me too." Alceste sighed.
Hercules echoed it.
"Don’t waste your time tomorrow," he advised, one hand dipping to his belt to abstractedly confirm the presence of the wooden token he’d recovered earlier. "You won’t find him."
Alceste frowned at him. "So - where is he? Did he run away or something?"
"No." The denial was quick; the word was pained. "No - there’d be no reason for him to do that. He was planning to compete in the games ..."
The three exchanged a knowing look; this clearly confirmed something they had suspected.
"So where is he, Hercules?" Missy’s voice came from behind all of them; the girls turned in trepidation. The son of Zeus didn’t even move.
"I don’t know," he admitted, a soft consideration of helplessness. "I wish I did."
"But you know something."
He turned at last, finding the Protector outlined in the warm light from within the lodge, the largest of the hounds standing at her side, the smallest tucked in her arm. He gave her a long thoughtful look while he wondered how he could explain things to her.
He wasn’t entirely sure he could explain them to himself ...
"The message was faked. Deliberately." He rubbed a wearied hand around the back of his neck and Missy moved across to join him, letting the dog jump from her grip so that she could reach to massage the offending muscles. Hercules was too soul wearied to protest the attention; he clasped his hands in his lap and stared out into the night.
"And," she prompted softly.
"And he was ambushed and taken and - Ares has him, somewhere -"
"Ares?" Lupa exclaimed in startlement; the other two shushed her immediately.
"He wants the arrow," Hercules explained bleakly. "It has some power or other - I don’t know what. But if I don’t compete and win it - Iolaus is a dead man." He stood up and walked a step away, leaving the priestess alone on the top step.
"I can’t let that happen," the son of Zeus concluded. "I just can’t. But I don’t think I can let Ares take that arrow either. How could I let this happen?" he demanded of the sky, his frustration surfacing as tight anger. "I’m the one that makes him a target. I owe him so much - and I should have protected him ..."
"Hercules." Missy’s use of his name was soft but commanding. He turned and she came down the steps to lay a supportive hand to his arm. "Don’t. This isn’t your fault. This is Ares up to his usual tricks. And Iolaus is his own man. You can’t protect him every moment of every day. He’s not a child."
"No," Hercules admitted reluctantly. "He wouldn’t like that. But he’s my partner, Missy. He watches my back and I should have been there to watch his. Look - I’m sorry. I don’t want to drag you and your people into this -"
"We are already part of it," she interrupted firmly. "I offered him my protection while he was in Pentheos, and I don’t go back on my word. You will have every power at my command to help you in this. This house is your house while you have need of it. Win the arrow. Call your brother’s bluff. And while you do so, my people and I will search the entire province and half the world to find his hostage."
He looked down at her, at the grim and determined look that sat on her face and he smiled a little sadly. "Iolaus would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you," he said. "Which it might, if you were to find him. But your hospitality will be welcome. Let me worry about Ares. I’ll figure something out."
She returned his smile with an encouraging one of her own. "If Ares want this prize so much then he has to keep Iolaus safe, doesn’t he?"
Hercules quirked a wry grimace. "Huh," he snorted. "I wish I could be so sure of that. I don’t trust Ares - he has no value for mortal lives. Especially mortals that have outwitted him on more than one occasion. He has reason for grudges where Iolaus is concerned."
Missy’s eyes narrowed in the moonlight. "You don’t think he’ll keep his bargain?"
He shrugged. "I don’t know. At the very least I think he’ll twist it out of shape as far as he can. Iolaus may be still alive - but - safe ...? He’s only mortal, Missy. And Ares plays rough."
Her hand tightened on his arm, conveying support and sympathy.
"Iolaus is quick on his feet and quicker in his wits, Hercules. I’m sure he’ll be okay."
The pain had seemed unbearable; when it finally subsided it was hard to grasp that he was actually still alive. Still alive and still suspended. His bonds were the only thing that held him upright, his body limp with exhaustion, his breath ragged and his throat raw.
It was even more of a surprise to find that he could feel his heart beating desperately, drumming a tattoo inside his chest; he lifted his head with an effort to find that less time had passed than he thought. Ares was still standing in front of him, the god studying his reaction with interest.
"Well," velvet tones considered. "That was entertaining. And very enlightening too." Ares’s fingers uncurled to let the crystal dangle free; it was no longer milky white, or even softest green. It had turned dark blood red, and the colour pulsed within it, somehow matching the frantic beat of its victim’s heart, which still raced and pounded as it it were afire. "Pretty, don’t you think?"
"Yeah," Iolaus gasped. "Sure. Very pretty."
Speaking was an effort. Ares looked impressed that he’d actually managed it.
"Get him some water," he requested of Karvo, who was watching with wide eyes. "Now!" The mercenary instantly scuttled away like a startled rabbit. The god of war snickered softly, amused at his ability to terrify with just a single word.
"What -" Iolaus somehow managed to formulate, "- have you - done - to me?"
"Mmm? Oh - not much. Just tried a little experiment. You see," he explained, leaning back against the rough wall and preening at his cleverness, "all of the pieces of the staff of Time have power, but some have more than others and - the power is always slightly different. The Chronos stone for instance - that unlocks the path of time and allows its wielder to travel back, much as any god can do. But no god truly controls time - or ever will - until the staff can be remade, that is. This - " he dangled the crystal easily, admiring the way it now reflected the torchlight, "- is a small piece and not particularly powerful. If it were bigger, it might posses a greater power - perhaps a way to suspend time or to accelerate it. A way to wipe history from a man’s mind, or even - make it never to have happened at all. As it is ..." He laughed softly, starting to throw the jewel up and catching it, over and over. "This is just a minor key. One that locks, or unlocks one thing at a time. In this case - " He snatched the crystal out of the air, and smiled at his audience with superior certainty. "- your life. Locked safely away until I choose to release it. Or snuff it out," he added, his fingers closing over the stone and squeezing it, slowly.
Pain clenched inside Iolaus’s chest a second time, a tight band of inner steel that overwhelmed breath and numbed all other sensation. Every muscle tensed; he could not breath, could not move, the taut clenching agony consuming him, his heart a knot of anguish, his whole body screaming for release ...
... and then it was over, and he once again hung limply in his bonds, gasping for breath, shivering with shock and feeling his heart slowly settle back to the pace of a pounding drum.
"Nice," Ares concluded, looking down at the crystal with appreciation. "Particularly since - while I have this - you cannot die. No matter what, I possess your life. Sealed by the power of time. Suspended. Locked away. You know," he smiled wickedly, "this is much more fun that just reducing you to ashes."
Karvo had returned; he’d brought a water skin which he grudgingly held to the prisoner’s lips. Iolaus gulped at it eagerly, too desperate to complain at tainted lake water, and yet too exhausted to manage more than part of what he was offered.
"Anybody - ever tell you - you’re an evil bastard?" he queried, earning another chuckle from the watching god.
"Frequently." Ares straightened up and set his mind to business. "Now, I know Discord will have delivered my message and I’m sure my brother’ll want to make a deal, so - with a little luck I will have the arrow to match this in my possession before the sun sets in three days time. Of course," he considered, delivering the information with relish, "if Hercules fails to deliver, then -" Gloved fingers closed around the stone; Iolaus tensed with anticipatory terror and the god let out a deep throated laugh, an evil, confident sound that filled the entire mine. "Karvo," he ordered easily. "Take good care of him - and don’t let him out of your sight, mmh? Or I will be very upset."
He gestured casually and vanished into thin air leaving only the afterimages of a flare of light and the echo of his laugh still reverberating in the air. Iolaus let out a slow breath and relaxed, his head slumping down and his body shivering in protest at its mistreatment. A hand reached across and jerked his face back into the flickering torchlight.
"Don’t you go getting any ideas," Karvo growled, glancing at the space where the god had stood. "I think I’m beginning to regret this deal already ..."
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