The wild pulsing of the jewel seemed to have responded to his wishes; it slowed to a steady beat, gradually resuming the rhythmical cadence of a man’s heart. The tight clench of anxiety around Hercules’s own heart loosened a little. He let out a small sigh of relief and carefully laid the stone back against his breast.
"Hey, Hercules - you’re up."
He looked up. Aphidas was waving him to the throwing line, the crowd watching with baited breath. He glanced around warily as he walked to the starting point, seeing the expectation on practically every face.
This time, he promised, his fingertips brushing the dark red crystal as he did so. He could see Discord now, standing ready behind the hapless priest, her hand half raised to initiate her little trick, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
The son of Zeus allowed himself a little smile. Silence had fallen in the stadium. Every eye was focused on him. He bowed towards the king and his guests, took one pace forward -
- and threw from there, an easy long armed toss as casual as the throw that Iolaus had demonstrated the day before. Like that one, it flew in a high arc; unlike that it went on rising, lifting higher and higher, seeming to pick up speed until it arched out of the stadium altogether.
There was a distant and unmistakable splash as it impacted into the lake beyond the city walls.
The crowd went wild, screaming and cheering, offering their approbation with whistles and catcalls. Over in the royal box, three young maidens might be seen to gesture a satisfied and synchronised Yes. One of them kissed Azan, who promptly went pink.
Hercules smiled sweetly at Discord, who stamped her foot in annoyance and vanished. The priest, thinking the smile was for him, smiled back a little nervously.
"Nice throw," Aphidas noted, sounding somewhat dazed.
The son of Zeus nodded. "Yeah," he decided. "Not bad." The prince slapped him warmly on the shoulder and laughed.
"I know when I’m beat," he admitted. "Say - if you’d thrown that a little further you might have hit Iolaus out in the woods. He doesn’t know what he’s missing."
Hercules’s answering smile was strained. His hand curled around the blood red gemstone that lay against his chest. "Maybe not," he said.
But I hope he lives to hear about it ...
The sharp sting of ice-cold water dragged him from the comfort of the darkness; he emerged from its refuge in time to receive a second drenching, a cataract of liquid frost poured liberally over his head. He reacted with a jerk and an indrawn breath of pain; the water scoured his damaged back, the movement stirred the protests of his shoulders.
"I knew you were still alive."
Karvo swam into view; swam, because focus didn’t seem to be something Iolaus had control of. The world danced around him, ebbing and pulsing with a sickening motion. He shook his head to clear it and immediately regretted the action. Not only did it add to the swaying, reeling impact of his senses, it also encouraged the descent of ice from hair to shoulders. The rivulets of descending water stung, tracking lines of numbness through the fire that seemed to have taken root inside him. His back hurt, from his shoulders right down to his knees. It seemed a strangely distant pain, one that ran so deep he was almost indifferent to its presence. Almost, but not quite: he knew that it lay in wait to claim him - that now he was awake, the fire would grow and become unbearable soon enough.
The mercenary lifted his captive’s chin and stared at him through calculating eyes.
"The lads were very disappointed," he said. "They expected a little more - protest from you. You know - pleading for mercy, begging for your life ..." His lips curled into a confident smile. "I told them to be patient. This is just the first day. You’ll be begging soon enough."
"I’ll - see you in Tarterus first," Iolaus gasped, finding strength from somewhere to stare back at the man with defiance. Karvo laughed at him.
"Is that a threat, shorty?"
The prisoner jerked his head from the man’s hand, wincing as the movement stirred red hot needles in his otherwise numb arms. "No," he corrected. "A prophecy. Ares won’t protect you from Hades’s judgements. And you won’t like Tarterus. I know. I’ve been."
Words were the only weapons he had left to him. He was gratified to see the wary frown that flitted across the man’s face - and paid for the insult a moment later as a hand dug into one of his belts and tugged him forward. The shift of weight on his wrists and shoulders lit the waiting fire; it seared through him, arcing his body in involuntary protest. It was only by supreme effort of will that he caught back the scream that Karvo wanted; even so, the man smiled.
"You should be nicer to me," the mercenary suggested, tugging a knife from his belt and running its point down his captive’s chest. Iolaus watched its descent with worried eyes. "There’s no one here to stop me doing anything I like to you." The knife point tugged at a leather lacing, cutting it free. "No one at all." Another tug; the hunter held his breath, only too aware of where the knife currently hovered. He didn’t know what Karvo was intending, but he didn’t think he was going to like it very much ...
"Beg me to stop," the surly voice suggested with amusement. "I will if you will."
The knife moved lower, and the hunter tensed, conscious of the rough fingers that pressed between his stomach and his belt - conscious too of the knife point, flicking its way through the lacings that lay below the grip. He gritted his teeth and looked away, searching for a neutral point on the wall, his breath heaving in tight gasps that had nothing to do with the pain that ate at him.
Fear has a way of stretching time and adding to its intensity.
Right then and there, Iolaus would admit to being very scared indeed ...
The javelin arched through the air with a delicate grace, striking the ground point first and staying there, quivering with the impact. The crowd cheered. Hercules applauded his opponent.
"Thanks," Elatus acknowledged, pleased by his effort. "That’s my best to date."
"Better than mine," Hercules muttered, picking up the next javelin and weighing it carefully. His first had turned in a peculiar curve, sending the marshals scattering in a panic. But he was getting wise to Discord’s tricks now. He had to catch her off guard, let her disruptive influence misfire. Thing was, with a full size war javelin to play with she was likely to get ambitious. If he hit a spectator he’d be out of the games for certain, if not thrown into Arcas’s dungeon on a charge of murder afterwards ...
He walked out into the designated throwing area, hefting the javelin and looking for Discord. He spotted her waiting by her chosen shield - the same hapless priest who’d already been a victim of her interference. He wondered if Ares was also watching him and half smiled to himself, picturing the look on his brother’s face when he pulled this one. He turned to wave generously at his supportive trio of Amazons, the royal box being placed directly behind the throwing field -
- and threw the javelin over his shoulder, straight down the marked course.
It cut the air with a savage whistle, moving so fast that it scorched earth when it hit. Discord cursed and thrust her hand after it, too late to deflect or stop the throw. Her power hit a nearby pillar and toppled the urn that stood on top of it. Hercules sprinted over and caught the falling pot, just before it shattered among the other competitors.
Another cheer went up from the spectators; once again, the throw had broken every record in the book.
"This is too easy for you, Hercules," Elatus decided with a laugh. "Look - you want that arrow, you take it. I don’t think anyone’s going to be a real challenge for you."
Hercules glanced at the spot where Discord had been standing and shook his head. "I have to win it, Elatus. Win it fairly." He paused, working hard to find the smile that would be expected of him. "I - kind of - promised Iolaus I would."
Elatus chuckled, shaking his head in quiet disbelief. "You two are a pair," he said. "Okay - you want to win it, you’ll win it." His eyes flicked to the royal box and the three girls that sat there. "Along with everything else," he added with a sigh. This time, Hercules’s smile was genuine.
"Don’t even think it, my friend," he suggested warmly. "Do you know what Artemis does to anyone she catches compromising the innocence of her chosen followers?"
Elatus shook his head.
"Well - let’s just say you’d make a good stag. Or a hare." Hercules adopted a wry grin of recollection. "She’s pretty good at pigs, too ..."
With the last lacing cut, Karvo had slid around his helpless captive, his hand still firmly clasped in the hunter’s belt. The knife must have been put away; it was fingertips that stirred the ploughed field that made up his back. They drifted down the line of his spine, each drawing a path of shivering agony behind it.
"You can still stop me," the mercenary whispered, his voice roughened by anticipation. "You know how ..."
Iolaus closed his eyes and shook, torn by pain and inner terror. He didn’t know if Karvo would stop, even if he did beg. He wanted desperately to fight back, but he had no strength to call on. Even his sense of Hercules’s presence was distant, reduced to a subtle armour that barely kept the pain at bay.
"I’ll kill you," he promised tightly. "If Ares doesn’t do it first," he added, fighting for inner control. The man’s hand had slid beneath damaged leather and was exploring the wounded flesh that it had covered.
"Ares isn’t here," Karvo murmured confidently. "And do you really think he cares?"
"I do," a woman’s voice interjected softly. The mercenary let go, spinning round to confront the source of the interruption. Iolaus bit back a scream as the man took a startled step back and bumped into him. The voice sounded familiar; he struggled through spinning senses to place it.
"Who - ?" Karvo’s protest was confused. "What - ?"
He’d stepped past the obstruction by now, backing away towards the wall. Iolaus, with hardly strength to lift his head, watched the shadow that loomed over them both. A slim shadow, armed with the elegant and familiar curve of an intricate bow.
A bow he’d once used to hold Ares himself at bay ...
Artemis?
"I have business with this man," the goddess announced quietly. "And yours - is over."
The bow lifted. The arrow flew from the string, striking Karvo cleanly in the chest. He had time for one horrified gurgle before the change took effect. A highly appropriate change, the watching hunter thought, still caught in his moment of astonishment. Where the burly mercenary had been standing a decidedly ugly warthog was now snuffling, its eyes looking a little dazed.
The shadow of a huge slavering hound appeared beside that of the goddess. Then another. And a third, all growling with menace. The warthog squealed in alarm. Iolaus wasn’t far off it himself.
"Sic him, boys," she ordered. The warthog bolted with terror, and the shadowy hounds went after him, raising a howl of pursuit that resounded around the caverns as if Ceberus himself were part of the chase.
The impression of the goddess grew smaller as she walked towards the captive that remained, although her presence didn’t diminish in the slightest. Iolaus’s head was spinning: had he somehow managed to summon her with his self dedication? Or was this visit one of retribution? Which ever it was, right then he was very grateful.
Very grateful indeed.
Her slim sandals stepped into the spot where Ares had stood, not so long since. He took a careful breath and with it found the strength to lift his head; their eyes met, his filled with effort and anxiety, hers with a quiet anger that immediately softened into sympathetic warmth.
"Oh, Iolaus," she considered affectionately. "You do get yourself into some spots, don’t you?"
Relief flooded thought him. He’d have shrugged, but it would have hurt. "Guess so," he admitted dolefully. A rueful smile tugged at his sweated features. "Thanks. I owe you one."
""You owe me several," she said, stepping a little closer. The belling of the hounds was abruptly silenced and she glanced away, looking back with a smile of quiet satisfaction. "Bastard," she concluded. "Couldn’t even make a decent chase of it. Now then -" Her smile brightened into a friendlier consideration. "What are we going to do with you?"
She put out her hand as she spoke, close enough to caress his hip with a teasing sweep of her fingers; he tensed as her touch disturbed torn skin and she drew back in alarm. Blood stained her finger tips and she stared at it, the smile in her eyes giving way to anger. The hand gestured upwards - and suddenly the support of the rope was gone, spilling him with a cry towards the floor.
He didn’t hit it. Artemis was there, holding him, cradling the curl of his pain against her, heedless of the blood that stained her buckskin dress. "How many blows?" she asked, looking, not down at him but at someone he couldn’t see.
"Thirty two, my lady." The voice was that of a child. Iolaus had no strength to look. The fire was filling him, tainting the edges of his senses.
"So many?" Now she did look down, her face creased in concern. Her hand brushed his cheek with a gentleness he didn’t quite understand. "I would not have asked for such a price." She bent her head; her lips touched his forehead with the softness of thistledown. "Go to sleep," she ordered softly. "You’re safe now."
He fought the lassitude that was creeping over him, knowing that couldn’t be true. "Ares," he warned. "Tell Hercules - "
"Sssh," the goddess soothed. "You’ll see him soon. I promise ..."
Lupa ran on ahead to warn the lodge they were returning. Alceste and Niale walked either side of the champion of the day, chattering brightly about the games and the king, and the princes and the city and all manner of things. Hercules was cheered listening to them; it had been a long day and he felt decidely weary. Their lively enthusiasm helped restore a little of his flagging mood.
"And then Aphidas said that I was prettier than all the dryads in Arcadia ..."
Niale roared with laughter. "No. What did you say?"
Alceste preened. "That he didn’t know what he was talking about, and besides, Artemis doesn’t choose her nymphs for their looks, only their spirit - and he laughed and said I had plenty of spirit, and why hadn’t I been carried away by Pan into the woods?"
"Hooee," Niale said. "As if. Hey - Hercules?"
"Mmm?" He wasn’t really listening to their conversation, just enjoying the energy in it.
"You know Pan, don’t you?"
He smiled. "We’ve met."
"Is he really as wild as they say?"
He paused to consider her need to know this, then went on walking, the smile filled with reminiscence. "Wilder. Although - Iolaus actually managed to drink him under the table once."
"No," they chorused, and he laughed at their wide eyed expressions.
"Really. Of course - Iolaus was sick for days afterwards and Pan got up without even a hangover but - it was a pretty wild party," he recalled. Then he sighed. "Iolaus tells the story better."
Alceste glanced at her sister, who made an oh-oh face in return. "I bet," she agreed. "He’s okay, you know? You’re going to win the games and -"
"It isn’t that simple," Hercules said a little sorrowfully. "But - don’t you worry about it. Did you have a good day?"
"We had a wonderful day," Niale declared. "What you going to do tomorrow? Wrestle? I bet you’re a great wrestler."
He chuckled. "Maybe. Come on - I’ll race you."
They charged away down the path and he loped after them, letting them get a good enough start so that he arrived at the lodge the same time they did. The two of them collapsed in a giggling heap against Ursus, who was asleep on the veranda. Hercules smiled at the sight and went into the main room, looking for Lupa, who’d promised to find him some wine.
Lupa wasn’t there, but Missy was, searching for something inside a small chest, the smallest of her dogs helping her with an enthusiastic nose. She looked up and smiled. The dog jumped down from the table and ran to greet the new arrival, his tail wagging. "Faithful," she protested. "Stop that. Come here."
"He’s okay," Hercules said, picking the animal up and carrying him back to his mistress. He considered her face with concern and a little expectation, half waiting for her to volunteer news that would mean trouble. She didn’t. She went back to her searching, lifting pots and packets out of the chest and discarding them with impatience. He dropped Faithful back on the table and concluded that she couldn’t have found any sign of the mercenaries or their hostage. He hadn’t wanted her to even look - but he knew that she had. Her silence on the subject was the admission of failure she knew he wouldn’t want to hear.
He sighed, turning to lean his weight against the table top. He’d told her not to pursue that search. He’d feared what might happen if she had. But there had been a part of him, hoping - praying - that this sturdy Amazon would find the trail and - if not single handedly rescue his missing friend - at least be able to lead him to where he might be. His heart, which had held that quiet hope all day, sank into weary despair. "Was it a good day’s hunting?" he asked.
A shadow flitted across her face - one tinged with anger - and then she smiled. "A very good day. But I gained a new patient." She waved her hand towards the fire pit and he glanced over to see what she meant. There was a blanket bundled at the edge of the fire and there was a dog asleep on it: not one of Missy’s ebullient pack, but an animal he’d never seen before. He walked over to take a closer look and his eyes narrowed as he realised what she’d meant by patient. It should have been a handsome creature, a sturdy dog built for the wild, with a narrow wolf like muzzle and sharp pricked ears - but its thick golden coat was matted with blood and marred with cuts and tears: its back and flanks were practically raw with them.
"Oh - poor fellow," he reacted, dropping down to carefully pet the sleeping beast. The dog opened its eyes when he spoke and struggled to lift its head, licking at Hercules’s hand as he offered it up to be sniffed. It was obvious that the animal had been savagely beaten and was in a bad way. "Who’d do such a thing?" he asked, outraged.
"Someone who won’t do it again," Missy answered shortly, moving to kneel on the other side of the blanket. "I have an ointment of moly here - would you give me a hand?"
Moly? He hadn’t known the magical herb grew in these woods, but it would be the best thing to apply: along with its legendary power to dispell enchantment it held a superb ability to aid in healing. It was unusual to use such a rare and valuable thing on a dog, of course, but then Missy was an unusual sort of healer.
"Of course." He took the jar she held out and dipped his fingers into it, using them to gently smear the sweet ointment into the damaged flanks. "Easy fella," he soothed as the animal winced and whimpered at his touch. Missy smiled and started using a damp cloth to clean away the blood that was matted in the dog’s coat.
"You have gentle hands," she observed after a moment. "Will you turn him over?"
"Sure." The dog was easy to lift and it licked at his hand again as he paused to pet the tousled head. "You going to adopt him when he’s recovered?"
She glanced up at him and laughed, softly. "Maybe. Maybe I’ll give him to you. Maybe - I’ll do both."
He echoed her laugh, just as softly. "I don’t need another partner," he said. His untainted hand drifted to the stone that sat against his chest and the dog whined, leaning forward to nudge at his knee.
"I think he likes you," Missy noted warmly. "And you know what they say about a man’s best friend ..."
He chuckled, bending to apply ointment with careful fingers. "Yeah. I do. But don’t let Iolaus hear you say it."
She laughed a second time. "I hear you won at the games today. That’s good, right?"
"Uhuh." He wasn’t really wanting to talk about that. "There you go, fella. Good boy. He’s very tolerant, isn’t he? I mean - he must be in a lot of pain, and yet - "
"He knows you mean him no harm. But he is a trusting sort - too trusting sometimes, I suspect. Now, Hunter, over there - " She pointed at the largest of her pack, the dark coated wolfhound who would have made two of the new arrival and still have dog left over. "He took a long time to tame. He was wild. He even bit me, once. But I like a challenge - and now he’s the most devoted of them all."
He sat back to watch her, admiring the way the flicker of firelight played over her face. She had a quiet strength that reminded him of someone. Someone that he knew well, and yet could not quite recall ...
"Tell me about the others," he asked, reaching to stroke the wounded animal as he did so. She shrugged.
"Well, if you’re interested ... That was Hunter. The mastiff over there is Champion - I took him out of a fighting pit. Very dogged is Champion. Then there’s Warrior, with the splotched coat, and Wanderer, who’s always wanting to know what’s going on ..." She pushed the dog concerned away with an affectionate hand, since it had walked over to see what they were doing. "The shepherd’s dog is Steadfast - and the littlest one is Faithful, who practically never leaves my side. All of them very loyal - and very loving," she added, pushing Wanderer away a second time. "Leave him be, Wanderer! He needs to sleep."
"So what will you call him?" Hercules asked, dragging the light blanket up to cover the dog’s flanks. It was shivering, despite the fire. Missy paused, looking down at the injured animal and then up at his face.
"Oh," she considered, adopting a laughing smile. "I think - Hero will suit him rather well, don’t you think?"
Hercules nodded, gently petting the dog’s ears until its eyes drooped in sleep. "Yeah," he breathed. "I think so. It’s been a long day. I think I’ll skip supper and get some sleep. Goodnight, Hero. Goodnight, Missy." He climbed to his feet and headed for the stairs. Missy reached out and tenderly stroked Hero’s nose.
"Goodnight, Hercules," she called.
Daybreak saw Hercules back in the main room of the Lodge, helping himself to bread and cheese for breakfast. He found a pitcher of milk keeping cool in a basin of water and he poured himself a generous goblet full - then smiled and tipped a little more into a shallow dish which he carried over to the firepit with the rest of his breakfast. The wounded dog was still there, curled into a tight ball; there was a little fresh blood on the blanket, but not much.
"Good morning, Hero," he said, balancing his plate on the stone edge of the pit and carefully placing the dish of milk within the animal’s reach. It woke, blue eyes opening warily to watch him as he sat down and began to eat. Sharp ears pricked forward; a damp nose wrinkled as it tested the air. Hercules pushed the dish a little closer with his foot and Hero stirred, carefully easing his bruised body forward to lap at the milk, slowly at first - then more eagerly, as if it had been some time since the animal either ate or drank. "Want some more? Or some of this?"
Hercules broke off a piece of cheese and held it out. The dog cocked his head to one side, perhaps weighing up what it might cost him to claim the proffered prize. Somewhere across the room, Hunter lifted his head to stare at the pair of them, whuffed softly and went back to sleep. Hero whined a little pitifully and Hercules laughed.
"Here," he said, leaning forward to let the dog take the cheese from his palm. "Everything hurt too much, huh? Well, don’t worry. Missy will take good care of you, I’m sure. You’re safe here." He broke off another piece of cheese and offered it up; Hero took it gingerly and then wolfed it down with appetite. Hercules sighed. "You know," he breathed, "I’ve never understood why anyone could maltreat another creature - man or animal. But I’ve seen so much hatred and savagery in the world …" He shrugged, unable to formulate the way his thoughts were turning. "Maybe I’m the one that’s out of step."
Hero crawled forward and laid his chin on the warrior’s knee; Hercules put down his hand and scratched the dog’s ears, finding comfort in the contact. "You know what my friend Iolaus would tell me?" he asked rhetorically. Hero whuffed, deep in his throat, and the son of Zeus laughed. "Well, I’ll tell you. He’d say that people like me - and Xena now - we provide the example for everyone else to follow. That if the strong can learn to protect the weak and stand up against the evil in the world then there’s hope for everyone." He sighed again, taking a mouthful of bread and munching on it thoughtfully. "He’d be right, of course. Just that - sometimes it’s - difficult. Like when you have to make choices between the right thing and - and the people you love. Course," he considered, "if he were here he’d be telling me I just have to figure out a way to do both. And expect me to do it." He glanced down at the dog, directing his one-sided conversation as if he shared a valued confidence. "Sometimes it’s hard to live up to the faith he has in me. But I do it. When someone like that believes in you, you - just have to deliver, I suppose. My world would be a little emptier without him. A lot emptier." Hero rolled his head to lick at the arm that petted him, and Hercules laughed quietly, ruffling the soft fur between the dog’s ears. "Now he’d be telling me that I worry too much. But I owe him. My very existence, for one thing. For all of his support over the years. For his friendship. For being a pain in the butt when he needed to be - and for being there for me when I really needed it. Most people look at me - they just see the son of Zeus, you know? But Iolaus? He’s heard all my hopes, all my fears - been there on my darkest days and stayed by my side even when the odds have been stacked against us." Another laugh, this one even softer. "Listen to me. You composing my elegy, Herc?" The impersonation was affectionate; the dog’s tail thumped lightly at the floor, almost as if he were laughing. "I hope I never have to ... He’d just make his life sound like a tall tale. Tell a joke or two. He’s like that. Always looking on the bright side of things. Over confident, Chiron always said. But brave with it." His expression was a fond one, filled with memories. "I’ve even seen him face up to Ares on my behalf. With a smile ..."
"Now that must have been something to see," Missy remarked, appearing from behind the curtains to the inner room. Hercules looked round in startlement, then shrugged, a little embarrassed at being overheard.
"Well - he did have the bow of Artemis to defend himself with. And Ares took an - interesting revenge." Hero growled softly, and she laughed.
"You two must lead a fascinating life," she said, moving round and crouching down to examine the dog’s injuries. "And a dangerous one." She paused in her scrutiny to glance up at Hercules, an odd look in her eye. "So he really did draw the bow?"
"Oh yeah." Hercules’ grin held a host of recollections. "Really saved my bacon ..."
Hero yiped, a reaction to Missy’s careful ministrations, and she frowned at him. "Don’t squirm," she scolded affectionately. "This is supposed to make you feel better. There. At least these wounds are clean. They’re not going to fester. And this - " she produced another pot of the herbal ointment, "should lessen the chance of scars." She smiled knowingly. "A handsome fellow like this shouldn’t earn too many scars."
"No." Hercules held the pot for her while she gently applied the salve. "I don’t suppose he should." He watched her work for a while and then asked, almost too casually: "Will you be hunting again today?"
"Mmhuh," she denied. "Not today. It’s going to rain up on the mountain. But it’ll be dry in the city - I thought I might come and see you compete." She smiled, reaching for a cloth to wipe her fingers on. "The girls just couldn’t stop talking about the games last night. We can leave Ursus to watch over Hero here and uh - I can meet these three handsome princes who want to lure away my handmaidens."
He laughed, aware that she was joking. "It isn’t like that," he assured her.
"No? Did you know that their mother served in this Lodge for a while? Arcas was very handsome when he was a young man. He used to tend his father’s sheep out in the fields and serenade the nymphs of the wood with sweet music. One day, one of them followed him back to the city."
"I didn’t know that." He looked puzzled. "Wouldn’t that mean she’d broken her vows?"
"Uhuh." Missy persuaded Hero to settle, finding a soft cushion to place under his head. "It happens. Sometimes. Not very often, though. The man has to be - pretty special. She obviously thought Arcas was."
"And the goddess didn’t demand a price?"
She sighed, a little sadly. "She did. And it was paid." She rose to her feet, pausing to give the dog one last caress. "She never demands more than is just, Hercules. Unlike some of the gods," she added shrewdly and he twitched a rueful smile.
"Tell me about it ..."
"Where is he?"
Ares’s angry demand echoed around the cavern and rumbled through the outer tunnels, shaking dust from supporting timbers as it did so. Discord gave him a patient look. "Well, not here, obviously. Though judging by this - " Her gesture encompassed the dangle of rope and the dark splash of blood that patterned the floor beneath it, "he wasn’t going far by himself. Maybe they killed him ..."
"They couldn’t," he growled, slapping at the nearest rope in irritation. "I didn’t ask much. Just - keep an eye on him, I said. All they had to do was sit on that little - pipsqueak for three days. I leave them alone for one and - pah." His hands expressed his fury with eloquence. Both ropes flared into instant flame.
"O-kay," Discord acknowledged, backing away a little. "Let’s review a little shall we? We have - an empty mine, no sign of any mercenaries - and evidence that they may have got just a little carried away playing with your new toy." She shrugged. "Simple. They had a bit of fun, went too far - buried the body and then ran like - "
Ares’s hand gestured sideways. She was thrown back into the wall with an impact that cracked the stone behind her. "Wrong," he declared, impatiently. He took a step forward and crouched to study the bloodstained stone. ""I told you. They couldn’t kill him. He can’t die. Not so long as his heart is locked to the stone - " His eyes rolled heavenwards with a grimace, "which my beloved brother has now got, so I can’t use it to locate him. Damn." His fist thumped downwards and the whole mine shook as it struck the ground. "I suppose," he frowned, "they could have thought he was dead ..."
"Ooh," Discord savoured the thought. "Buried alive, huh? Serve him right. Endlessly choking under a weight of cold earth ... Let’s just leave him there, shall we?"
Ares threw her a look of pained disbelief, then shook his head, refocusing on the matter in hand. "I need him, Discord. Hercules won’t give up the arrow without something to exchange. Find him. Search the mine, search the lake, search the entire mountain if you have to, but find him. And if you happen to find Karvo and his snivelling bunch while you’re looking -" He paused to frown over possibilities, then shrugged dismissively. "You’ll think of something. Right?"
Discord pouted rebelliously. "You want me to search the whole mountain? That’ll take hours. Days. And I was going to treat Hercules to a little - "
"Idiot," Ares snarled, rounding on her with a scowl so fierce she blanched. "I told you to make it difficult. But I don’t want him to lose. Understand?" She nodded, an anxiously quick affirmation that mellowed his mood a little. "Right now," he said, "the important thing is to regain our control of this situation. If you don’t find him around here - then check out that Lodge that Hercules is staying at. There’s always a chance that those Amazons know something about this place."
She frowned. "Me? Invade a temple to Artemis? Hey - I got that King of Thieves fellow to steal her bow that time because that was a risk I’m not stupid enough to take. You know how touchy she can get over this violation, transgression stuff. Even more so since she’ll know I was behind that little caper. I’ve been a chicken. I don’t want to be one again ..."
He dismissed the argument with an airy wave of his hand. "I smoothed all that out," he said. "Otherwise you’d still be a chicken. All you have to do is look. If he’s there - well, going by this he’ll be in no state to resist you, so just - pick him up and bring him back here." He paused to give her a persuasive leer. "You find him - you can play with him for a while ..."
She thought about that. A slow smile curled onto her features. "He can’t die?" Ares shook his head in amused denial. Discord licked her lips as she considered possibilities. "I still haven’t forgiven him, you know. How many bones are there to break in the human body?"
"Two hundred and six. But don’t get too carried away. Hercules will want to recognise him when we hand him over."
She looked disappointed. "Spoilsport," she muttered petulantly. He laughed.
"Don’t be too quick to accuse. Mother may think that destroying the things Hercules loves is a good way to hurt him. But that’s too quick, too easy. And you have to admit that that little hunter has his amusing moments."
Discord sidled up to caress his chest and shoulder. "If I didn’t know better," she cooed, "I’d think you liked him."
Ares caught her hand in a tight grip. "What I like is to win," he told her. "And sometimes that means keeping vulnerable pieces on the board. Your opponent has to expend resources to defend them. It provides a point of weakness to attack."
She tugged her arm free and eyed him suspiciously. "That’s all this is, isn’t it?" she marvelled. "One big game. You and all the rest of us, trying to score points and win the prize."
"It’s the ultimate game," he agreed with relish. "And when I have the staff of Chronos, I will control every piece on the board. Better yet, I will control the board itself." He caught at her shoulders, his eyes afire with sudden passion. "Find him, Discord. Find him before the games end. I want that arrow. Understand?"
She shivered theatrically. "Ooh," she breathed. "I just love it when you get mean, moody and magnificent ..."
The day proved to be a satisfying one. Missy was received with honour by the king, who shooed Garcian out of the royal box altogether in order to make room for her. The girls were on their best behaviour, even if they were still flirting outrageously behind their mistress’ back. And Hercules couldn’t see Discord anywhere - which started off as a great relief and slowly became a source of worry as the day progressed.
He had to strip down to bare shoulders for the wrestling; Alceste and the girls immediately volunteered to oil him up, a job they pursued with admiring pleasure. He endured the attention, sighing a little as he imagined how Iolaus might react to the sight. The stone that lay against his chest still held its steady beat, conveying its strange sense of comradeship; he’d wondered whether to give it to Missy to care for while he wrestled, but he’d not wanted to lose that contact. There was a nagging part of him that had been suggesting that that stone might be all that remained of his stolen company; that Ares was perfectly capable of imprisoning a mortal soul in such a thing. Whatever it might be, it made him feel that his friend was there, that he was standing on the sidelines cheering him on the way he always did.
He glanced towards the royal box and the figure that sat beside the King, Faithful curled into her lap and Champion settled at her feet. It curled a smile onto his face. If Iolaus had been there, he’d have had no eyes for Hercules. They’d have been firmly fixed on the Protector, the man probably bemoaning the capriciousness of gods who could fashion wonders and then tell you not to touch.
Which considering Missy possessed a homespun, earthy beauty rather than the striking splendour Iolaus had implied, might have seemed a little odd - until you knew her a little better. Funny, Hercules thought, but now I do know her, I can begin to see what he might see in her ...
"There," Lupa announced, moving round to stroke the last of the oil across his pectorals and over his breast bone. "Fit for a god."
"He is a god, you idiot," Niale laughed, her slender fingers massaging broad shoulders with a surprisingly firm touch. "Half of one, anyway."
"Hey." Lupa wasn’t paying much attention. "Hercules - this is beautiful. Where did you get it?"
He caught at the pendant before she could touch it, turning his palm so that all three could crowd round and see the delicate crystal jewel. It lay against his skin like a ruby teardrop, its soft pulse of colour barely visible in the sunlight. "It’s not mine," he said. "I’m - just taking care of it. For a friend."
"For Iolaus?" Alceste breathed, seeing the look that settled in his eyes.
"Yeah," he affirmed, climbing to his feet, not wanting to dwell on the issue. He settled the stone back against his chest as if it were something of no real importance. Lupa and Niale exchanged a look. "I have to go wrestle," he said.
"Sure," they chorused. "Good luck."
He didn’t have much need of luck, although there were at least two opponents in the contest who proved challenging. One of them charged straight in, trying to use his weight to push the son of Zeus from the ring. The other was more slippery, ducking and diving so that it was hard to get a good grip. The first staggered him close to the rope and he had to grab the man’s belt and lift, spilling his opponent out of the ring. The second man took longer to defeat, but Hercules had been wrestling with a far faster opponent most of his life. He did what he always did when he and Iolaus sparred this way: he feinted back, put out one brawny arm - and scooped his fellow wrestler right off the ground.
Of course, when he did that to Iolaus the wily hunter had a trick of squirming round and using the encircling arm as a lever for an upward flip. There’d been many a mock combat which had ended with Hercules doing a full back somersault as his opponent locked strong legs around his throat and used his tumbling impetus to pull both of them over.
This particular wrestler had no such tricks up his bare arm. He had time for a startled exclamation before he was tossed gently from the ring - where his flailing body collided with a passing marshal, the two of them going down in a heap.
"Sorry," Hercules called with a small wince. It was same priest; he must have been beginning to think these were not his games ...
After the wrestling he escorted Missy and the girls to the ranges so that they could watch the archery. Aphidas was one of the competitors and he was inspired enough by Alceste’s presence to hit five out of the six swinging targets as well as winning on both the distance and the accuracy ranges. Missy applauded his marksmanship; the girls all gave him a victory kiss and Hercules slapped him on the shoulder with manly congratulations. Missy slipped her arm into Hercules’ as they walked back to the main stadium, Faithful bouncing beside her with enviable energy.
"He’s good," she said. "A worthy son of one of the Huntress’s own."
Hercules smiled an easy agreement, the edges of it tainted with unavoidable sorrow. "He’s good," he affirmed. She threw him a calculating look.
"Iolaus is better, isn’t he?"
He heaved a small sigh. The glance he threw behind him took in the celebrating crowd around the victorious prince. "Much," he confided, unable to help the regret that filled that single syllable.
"Why did he enter the games, Hercules? He had no need to prove himself. What was he thinking of?"
The son of Zeus looked down at his company - at the soft silver of her eyes, at her athletic figure and the way that it filled the intricate lacing of leather and suede that was her current costume - and he coloured a little, remembering the way that Iolaus had spoken of her, that day at the gate. Missy was watching him curiously; when she saw his reaction to her question her eyes went wide with comprehending surprise.
"Oh," she breathed, her hand lifting to cover her startled gasp. "I see." She shook her head, amusement wrestling with remorse in her expression. The remorse won; she covered her face with her hand for a moment while she sought her self composure. "Then it’s my fault," she said softly. "If I hadn’t been hunting with Ursus, that day ..."
"Don’t be silly," he told her, not quite understanding her reaction. "This situation isn’t anything to do with you. It’s Ares that - look." He put out his hands and held her shoulders, reaching to lift her chin so that she could meet his eyes. "Iolaus wanted to win you that arrow. You made a real impression on him and - well, he’s like that. Generous to a fault. Anything and everything to win one smile. And he knows you’re a priestess of Artemis; he knew that was all he’d get. But that didn’t make it any less important to him. It was just sheer chance that he took the last token before Ares’s man could - and this bargain that Ares cooked up as a result - well, that’s just the way my brother works. Betting on certainties.
"You know," he went on, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the stadium gate, "Iolaus was right. That arrow came out of the tribute the Amazons paid when they purchased the woods, and it belongs in the Lodge - right there on the altar of Artemis. And that’s just where he’s going to put it when all of this is over. A hunter’s gift to the huntress. Along with this," he added, touching the crystal that still hung around his neck. "It’s about time my sister forgave him for that business with the contest."
Missy gave him an appraising look. "Artemis doesn’t care to much for material gifts," she pointed out. "Just gifts of the heart."
He smiled a little sadly. "That’s - sort of what I meant."
He walked the weight lifting. Literally walked it, picking up both the weight the previous contestant had managed and the weight it had taken two men to place in front of him and carrying them across the arena. The crowd loved it, acclaiming him their champion with relish, despite there being another day yet to come. Hercules took no joy in their approbation. He knew that the other competitors presented no challenge for him and he felt that it was unfair for him to make such a mockery of their hard fought efforts.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he had to win the games, he’d have stepped aside right there and then ...
"Well done, Hercules," Elatus slapped him on the back with comradely delight. "You should come do this more often."
"This isn’t right," Hercules muttered, pausing to take the towel he was offered, even though he’d barely broken a sweat. "I’m not giving anyone else a chance ..."
Elatus laughed. "Well, of course not. But you are making them sweat. Look at ‘em. Half of them passing their personal best today, just so they can say I competed with Hercules. That’ll be a proud boast in years to come. This is the best games ever. Say - " He turned to glance towards the royal box, his face dropping into puzzled lines. "Didn’t you say yesterday that Iolaus was helping her out?"
"Not exactly."
"Well - she’s here, right? So where’s he? I mean - I can see why she’d be a reason not to come yesterday, but - " He broke off, seeing the look that settled on the hero’s face. "Something wrong ... Oh no. He didn’t. Did he? "
"Did what?"
Elatus grimaced, waving a vague had in Missy’s direction and gesturing a little wildly. "Umm - what you said - yesterday? About the goddess and - umm ... He didn’t - that is, he wouldn’t, she wouldn’t ..."
"Oh." Hercules fought down a rueful smile. "No - I don’t think so. Missy seems to take her dedication very seriously."
The prince looked relieved. "So Iolaus isn’t - no, of course not. Silly of me." He took another glance in the priestess’s direction and heaved a small sigh. "Wouldn’t blame him for trying, though. Did you know that mother served in the Lodge?"
"I had heard."
"Yeah, well - " Elatus shrugged. "I never really knew her, you know? She died when I was young - when Azan was born. But Father still sends tribute to the Lodge every year."
"Your father is a wise man. And so are you Elatus. You’ve made me feel a whole let better about all this."
"I have?" The prince sounded puzzled. Hercules patted him on the shoulder.
"Yes. What you said - about bringing out the best in people. I hadn’t looked at it like that."
The young man gave him a amused frown that said oh, yeah - right. "You’re something else, you know that?" The son of Zeus had to laugh.
"So Iolaus keeps telling me."
He just hoped he would hear him say so again.
They walked back with decorum - well, as much as three excitable young women, and four equally excitable hounds would allow them, anyway. The brief buoyancy of mood that Hercules had gained from Elatus’s speech slowly slipped away, leaving him once again soaked in weary anxiety. Missy took his arm as they walked, not saying anything, just offering up comforting companionship. Once again he was struck with how familiar she was, although he couldn’t place the nagging recollections she summoned up. There was a little of Xena in her, perhaps ...
Don’t go that route, his heart told him sternly. There was only one Xena in the world, and that was just as well. This silver eyed Amazon was not a child of war, but one of the wild; a creature of generous strength and independent spirit. The longer you knew her the more you appreciated her - and he no longer wondered that Iolaus had fallen for her as hard as he had.
It was a real pity that she was in no position to return any of that devotion, except in friendship.
Friendship.
Hercules sighed softly, wondering if Aphrodite had cursed his partner somewhere along the line. Xena. Niobe. And now this silver haired huntress. All strong, determined women who owned a piece of a certain golden haired hunter’s heart. One had stomped on it. One had been forced to put it aside through duty. And this last was as far beyond his reach as the goddess she served ...
"Cheer up, Hercules," she advised warmly. "Things aren’t as bad as you think. They never are."
He answered her with a smile, although his spirit really wasn’t it in.
"Missy, Missy!" Lupa’s voice came back down the track from the lodge, calling in alarm. Priestess and warrior flashed a look between them and then both broke into a run, heading for the clearing and the building it contained. They could taste it now, smell the smoke that spilled up from the forest ahead. Champion and the other dogs raced ahead of them both, barking wildly. Their call was answered by another hound, and then another, filling the air with alarm.
Hercules had no time to wonder how the slender priestess matched his frantic pace. They burst into the clearing together, finding the windows and doors of the lodge billowing smoke, and the space around it filled with agitated Amazons, hauling buckets of water from the surrounding stream and using them to dowse the raging fire. Dogs were racing back and forth, barking wildly. Missy skidded to a halt, calling desperately. "Hunter! Wanderer!" Hercules left her counting dogs and ran to help the bucket brigade, hoisting up one of the nearby rain barrels and tossing the entire contents onto the nearest flicker of flames.
"Ursus!" Missy’s voice cut through the hubbub, earning a deep throated roar from somewhere inside the building. "Hero!" Then again, more anxiously. "Hero!"
Hercules glanced inside the smoke shrouded building. The wounded dog would have been right by the fire, too weak to move, probably quickly overcome by the smoke ...
He didn’t think twice about it. He seized the next bucket that came his way and emptied it straight over his head. Then he took a deep breath and plunged into the thick haze, heedless of the heat that beat at him from the interior.
"Hercules!" He ignored the startled cry that followed him in, dropping to his knees and crawling across the wooden floor. The interior of the building was a mess, rugs strewn randomly, furniture overturned, statues and carvings scattered everywhere. He reached the edge of the fire pit to find the space before it empty, the scorched remains of a blanket spilled into the glowing coals.
Where? his mind demanded, his hands leading him around the edge of the stone pit. The smoke was blinding, its bitterness eating into his throat, his lungs. The curtains to the inner sanctum were on fire, flames eating up their embroidered and painted surfaces. He heard Ursus call again, a frantic growl from within the altar room, and he headed towards it, coughing and retching in the smoke.
A few more feet and he ran into a wall of bear. A big bear, half overcome with smoke. "Ursus?" he gulped, trying to make out the situation. The bear whimpered, then backed up, revealing the golden coated dog shivering between his paws. "Hero..." The gasp was sheer relief. "Come on, boy. We’re out of here. You too Ursus."
He snatched the dog up into his arms and headed for the back wall, silently apologising for the damage he must do to his sister’s house. A foot lifted; the kick split wood and spilled in daylight. Again, and there was an opening. The third time, the whole wall shifted, peeling away from the massive trunk of the tree that supported it. Hercules was already running out into the clearing beyond, down into the small lake that hugged the back of the Lodge, his lungs heaving for fresh air and his skin burning from the heat.
Ursus splashed down beside him, panting and huffing, to roll in the water and extinguish the burning embers that smouldered in his fur. Hercules took a few more steps and sat down in the shallows, nursing the animal that panted with a desperation equal to his own. Somewhere behind them the whole roof of the Lodge collapsed in on itself, raising a cloud of sparks and dark smoke.
The son of Zeus winced. He didn’t know how, but he had a sinking feeling all this destruction was his fault.
"Hercules? Hercules ..." Missy was there, heedless of the water that licked at her knees, one hand burying itself in Ursus’ fur, the other reaching to touch the warrior’s shoulder, to brush his cheek while she looked at his face and his smoke rimmed eyes. "Are you okay? What were you thinking of - oh, Hero ..." She lifted the limp animal from his arms, cradling it with shaking hands.
"I’m okay," Hercules decided, refreshed by the cleaner air over the lake. "But the Lodge - "
"The Lodge can be easily rebuilt," she said, her eyes flashing silver as she turned to look at what remained of her home. "Flesh and blood is much harder." She glanced down at the dog, which had recovered enough to lick at her hand, and then up at his rescuer. "Thank you," she breathed, her gratitude tinged with something else, something he couldn’t read. "You’ve no idea what a good deed that was."
He shrugged, expressing his usual modesty when thanked in disastrous situations. "Are the rest of the pack okay?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, leading the way out of the lake, cradling the injured dog with gentle arms. "They’re fine. Ursus too," she added, smiling wanly as the bear waded onto the shore and began to shake the water from its fur.
"He was in the sanctum - the curtains had caught and he was trapped by the flames. Hero was with him."
"With Ursus?" Her soot streaked face lit up with a pale smile. "Clever Hero. Smart boy."
The dog barked, a soft huff of response, and she bent forward to kiss its nose.
Hercules stared at the smoking ruin in dismay. "What happened?" he asked. One of the older Amazons walked over, wiping a steak of sweat from a smoke painted forehead.
"There was a woman - dark hair. Bright red lips. Dressed in black leathers. She just stalked in and started throwing things around. We tried to fight her but she just threw us away as if we were toys. She kicked over some of the braziers and then - vanished. The next thing we knew the whole place was on fire."
"Discord." Hercules’s conclusion was bleak. He sank onto a nearby tree stump and dropped his head into his hands. "I’m sorry, Missy. This is Ares’s business. But I don’t understand. He has Iolaus. I’m winning the games. What more does he want?"
"To make you despair," she said gently. "Here - look after Hero. I must tend to my people."
He accepted the armful of dog, who whined and licked at his cheek and nose. The affection was reassuring and he smiled wearily, leaning back to settle his charge on his lap. Ursus was right behind him and provided a perfect warm support, if a slightly damp one. Faithful came trotting up and jumped onto the stump beside him, nosing at Hero’s paw before settling down in his turn. Champion appeared to sit at the warrior’s feet; Hunter followed, then Steadfast and Wanderer. By the time Missy reappeared, Hercules had the whole pack gathered round him almost like an honour guard.
"Now, there’s a sight," she smiled, coming over to hand him a bowl of soup. "Don’t look so downhearted, Hercules. This isn’t the end of the world. Not by a long stretch."
He answered the smile, his hand buried in the soft fur between Hero’s ears. "I suppose not," he agreed doubtfully. "I just feel so bad about this, Missy. Iolaus and I should never have come to Pentheos in the first place. Trouble follows me like - like - "
"A good hunter on an old trail," she capped, dipping a spoon into her own bowl and offering it up to Hero, who lapped at it gingerly. Her expression was warm, no longer troubled by event. "And it follows the both of you, so don’t go taking all the responsibility on yourself, son of Zeus."
He chuckled, then his face fell into lines of disquiet. "I’m going to get him killed, someday," he said a little bleakly. Hero nosed at his hand. Faithful lifted his head and barked once, a sharp denial and Missy frowned with decided tenderness.
"I’m quite sure Iolaus is perfectly capable of getting himself killed without your help," she said firmly. "But don’t go giving up on him yet. Ares isn’t the only god on Olympus, you know."
He stared past her, at the slumped ruin and the faint trails of smoke that still rose from it. She offered Hero another spoonful and smiled. "Artemis takes care of her own, Hercules. When she can."
They camped that night, using material salvaged from the damp and smoking ruin. Alceste and her sisters curled up with Ursus and a bundle of half burnt curtains. Some of the other priestesses raised makeshift tents. Missy stretched out with Hunter as her pillow and Faithful at her feet. And Hercules found a spot under a cedar tree where he could lean back and watch the stars as they wheeled overhead. After a while he noticed Hero creeping in his direction and he made a space for the dog, who flopped down beside him as if he belonged there. The moly had worked magic; the weals on the animal’s back and flanks were clearly healing, soft pink patches of tenderness that he wore like badges of honour.
"One more day to go," Hercules murmured, reaching down to fondle the dog’s ears. It amused him that Missy’s dogs wore no collars. They were free creatures, like Ursus, staying with her because they wished to. Like her people, who had rallied at her encouragement and quickly turned the scene of disaster into a place of comfort and determined hope. He felt a brief flicker of anger at Discord, whose savage nature had caused all this damage, and then a cold chill of anxiety for his friend, who still lay in the hands of her master. Hero whined at the note in his voice, shuffling closer and putting up a gentle paw. "Come on," Hercules relented, lifting the dog into his lap. Missy found them like that in the morning, the human hero relaxed among the roots of the trees, the canine one lying across him, a golden head resting on his broad chest.
The dog’s blue eyes opened as she approached, his sharp ears pricking up with a brightness that had been lacking the previous day and she smiled down at the sight, reluctant to wake the sleeping Olympian when he made such a comfortable pillow.
"Go on," she laughed. "Wake him up. It’s probably your last chance."
The dog threw her a wary look - then shuffled forward to attack Hercules’s face with a warm tongue. He woke with a splutter, his hands reaching to defend himself from attack only to sink into soft fur. He pushed the dog back with a groan, only to have the assault renewed with enthusiastic vigour.
"Hey," he protested, reluctant to be too rough with the beast, since he knew he was still sick. "That’s enough. I don’t need another bath."
"I told you he likes you," Missy chuckled. "There’s plenty of water in the lake if you want to freshen up before breakfast."
"Thanks," Hercules muttered, lifting the dog bodily from his chest and placing him at her feet. "Yours, I believe."
"Maybe," she murmured, too quiet for him to hear as he walked away, "but your’s first, I think. You know," she observed, looking down at the bright eyed beast beside her. "He is going to kill you ..."
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