Hercules walked into the city alone.
It felt like a long walk, too. He hadn’t wanted to leave the devastated ruins of the Lodge or its people, beginning the hard work to restore all that they had lost. But he had to go - and Missy had paused in her labours to send him on his way, Hero standing beside her. Her other hounds had run with him for a short distance, dropping behind one at a time until only Hunter paced at his side. And even the dark wolfhound had left him at the forest’s edge, a shadow that turned and slipped away into the trees.
Rumours of the fire had clearly reached the city. The smoke would have been visible for leagues. He gave the King a bleak explanation and Arcas immediately left the stadium to begin arranging whatever assistance he could offer. "Carpenters," he was heard to mutter as he dragged his youngest son along with him. "And linen. They’ll need linen ..."
At least that cheered Hercules a little; it helped to know that others would offer assistance and aid where it was needed.
The day seemed interminable.
He took part in the jumping, stretching long legs to lift him far beyond the reach of the other competitors. The crowd cheered, but he barely heard it. He won, of course, embarrassed to accept the congratulations that were poured over him. He wanted this over. He was angry about Discord’s attack on the Lodge. He was worried about his partner. And he still didn’t know what to do about the arrow or what power it represented - or what threat, either.
There was a anxious voice at the back of his mind cruelly suggesting that the prize Ares desired might be so dangerous in the dark god’s hands that he might have to sacrifice his friend to prevent it falling there. He wouldn’t know until he held it. And to hold it, he had to win one last thing - the long race, the chase that went three times round the city walls before it re-entered the stadium.
Hercules could run all day if he had to.
All night if he really needed to.
But the chase was Iolaus’s forte, something the blond warrior loved to do, and to have to pursue this route without his partner at his side was almost more than Hercules could bear. They must have run half way across Greece together - and half way back, with Iolaus laughing, running for the sheer joy of it, leaping rocks and streams and all the other obstacles that might lay in wait for them.
If I can outrun Ursus, I can outrun anybody ...
Except maybe for the son of Zeus, who might not have quite the turn of speed, but who always caught up in the end, stepping out with a long low loping pace that never tired and rarely failed him.
He took his place at the starting line, pausing to curl his hand around the warmth of the jewel that was his only surety of his partner’s life.
"We do this together, buddy," he whispered, pledging his victory to the man who should be the one pursuing the chase. "Missy’s going to get her arrow. Somehow. And you’ll give it to her. I promise."
The flag dropped. The contestants surged forward, jostling for position, a joyous explosion of determined muscles and proud athletes. He stayed in place for a moment, watching the pound of eager feet as they raced away from him, straining to gain the best line. Hercules, the word went round, Hercules.
And he was away, a bolt of lightning from his father’s hand, eating distance with resolute strides, catching up with the pack, running with them, hair streaming back in the wind, leading them, inspiring them to further speed - until he passed them, a lone warrior racing not his mortal opponents but the challenges of his life and the burdens that they laid over him.
A few leagues distant and somewhere on the mountainside, a frustrated Discord was walking along a narrow trail, flicking her forefinger to topple the occasional tree that obstructed her path.
"Find him, he says," she muttered. "Just like that. Find him. Doesn’t offer to help. Oh no. Just stalks off. Well, I’ll find him all right. Find his wretched hide and turn him inside out, that’s what I’ll do." Another tree bit the dust, and she kicked a rock after it, a big one. One as big as that bear that had the nerve to face her down yesterday.
"Just look, huh? Well, I looked. Place was like a zoo. Big dogs, bigger bears - and Artemis is gonna kill me when she finds out what I did ..."
"Excuse me."
There was a girl - a teenager by the look of her - standing on the trail ahead. A slender figure with a dark skin and darker hair. Discord frowned at her. She looked like one of those Amazon women - or would have done if she’d been a bit older.
"What do you want, kid?" she growled, in no mood for distractions.
"We’d like a word with you."
Another one. Red hair. High laced boots. A pert face and perfect hair.
"I’m busy." she spat. "Get out of my way."
"But we have a message to deliver."
More? Discord spun, finding a blonde that matched the other two had moved up behind her.
"A message. Right. From who? Widow Twankey’s chorus line?"
A look flashed between the three of them; a smile of amusement, a confident get her kind of glance. A faint skein of worry began to weave its way through Discord’s mind. She was supposed to be invisible to mortals at the moment. So how come these three could see her? And why weren’t they cowed by her divine aura?
"It’s very simple."
"The message."
"Very simple."
She was being circled and she spun with the movement, trying to keep track of their irritatingly bright smiles.
"The Huntress says - "
"The hunter is hers - "
"And you owe her an apology."
Worry became angry disdain. The Huntress. Right. As if Artemis would send a bunch of school kids to face her. She was Discord. Spreader of conflict, weaver of chaos, spinner of dissension and mistress of anarchy. What did she have to fear from these three?
Whoever they were ...
"Get out of here," she drawled, lacing the order with contempt. Bright smiles flashed around her for a second time. This time they laughed too.
"You shouldn’t go into the woods today -"
"You’d better have stayed at home - "
"For today’s the day the nymphs all say -"
"You’ve been a bad, bad girl," they chorused - and Discord had time for one startled squawk before she was pounced on.
Bounced.
And trounced.
In a whirlwind of high kicks and delighted yells.
A dazzling display of speed and acrobatics that left her dizzy, breathless - and face down in the mud.
"Now that," one of the girls declared. "Was fun."
"You think she got the message?"
Someone lifted her spinning head and she stared blearily at the impossibly young face that considered her.
"So?" a voice prompted. She groaned.
"Something about a hunter ..."
"Goood. What about him?"
An effort filled swallow. This wasn’t fair. A high heel dug into the small of her back.
"She doesn’t remember. Ooh dear ..."
"Wait - !" she protested. "I remember. The little blond hunter, yeah? The one I’ve been looking for?"
"Mmm?"
"I’m not looking for him. Not anymore."
Smiles. Bright, irritating smiles. She grimaced with frustration.
"And?"
"And - and I won’t lay a finger on him if I do find him."
"And?"
"And - " she wrestled for what to say next. Oh, by Zeus, this was so humiliating. "And - I’m sorry I burned the Temple yesterday and I didn’t mean to do it, and I don’t want to be a chicken. Not again and - and ARES!"
No one answered her cry. The girls’ smiles were too bright. Had she said the wrong thing? They backed away, letting her climb warily to her feet.
You little bitches, she thought, dipping down into her power, ready to unleash the force that was hers to command - and the bushes behind her swayed as something huge began to loom out of them.
"Oh oh ..." She turned. It was claws and teeth and menace and was absolutely not cuddly. Not in the slightest.
"Show her the way home, Ursus."
It roared. She panicked.
The son of the Great Bear chased the terrified Discord halfway across the heavens before he sent her on her way with a little lovetap that she felt for weeks afterwards.
And three wood nymphs sighed with satisfaction before they turned and meandered home, singing a sweet little ditty, all about going down to the woods and what you might meet there if you did ...
"And we, the priests of Hermes, Lord of messengers, are proud to present this crystal arrow to you, Hercules in recognition of your becoming Champion of this year’s Hermia. Three cheers for the Champion. Hip hip -"
"Huzzah," the crowd duly cheered. And again. And again. Until Hercules sincerely wanted the ground to open up and swallow him from sheer embarrassment.
But the arrow was his.
Finally his.
He put out his hand and lifted it, feeling the power that sparked and danced within it. A tingle of energy that shivered though him; an energy that the stone at his breast responded to, flaring with a brighter light as he brought one to lie close to the other.
Oh, Zeus ...
He didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t think this was something Ares should have. Not now, not ever. Because if he could capture a man’s heart in a small piece of stone, then what was he going to do with an entire arrow?
He had made a bargain. And a promise.
He just a sinking feeling he might have to break both of them ...
"Stay for the celebration, Hercules!" That was Elatus, pushing through the congratulatory crowd to find him.
Hercules shook his head. "I can’t. I have - an appointment to keep."
"Well, come back afterwards. And bring Iolaus. I can’t believe he’s missed all three days of the festival."
"I’ll - I’ll try," he managed and moved away, wading through the swarm of people, all of whom wanted to shake his hand or clap his shoulder or just call his name. He apologised to them all, shaking them off as politely as he could, the arrow clasped to his chest and the force within it pulsing in time to a familiar heartbeat.
It took him half an hour to get completely away.
The city itself was deserted. The entire population had surged to the stadium to see the presentation and stay for the party afterwards.
So it was empty streets that he paced in search of his brother. Empty streets and an abandoned gate, all leading to a bleak lakeside beyond.
Once there, a slow handclap drew his attention. Ares was leaning against a netting rack, offering mock applause to his champion.
"Well done, brother. Well done." The god of war stalked forward, eyeing the prize that lay glittering in Hercules’s hand. "Isn’t it exquisite?" His hand went out in imperious demand. Hercules kept the arrow close to his chest.
"Where is he, Ares?"
Ares sighed, putting his head to one side and considering his brother with a hint of exasperation. "Are you going to be tedious about this?" he asked. "Give me the arrow and the stone - and - " His hand waved in airy dismissal. "I’ll tell you where to find him. Okay?"
Hercules’s eyes narrowed. "No deal," he retorted. "I want to see him - and I want to see him now."
"Ah." Ares paced away, turning back with a thoughtful frown. His finger raised in wary explanation. "It’s not quite that easy. See - "
"Where is he?"
Heavily jewelled hands went up in a reconciliatory gesture. "Umm - I don’t know."
"You don’t - what!"
Ares winced theatrically at the startled anger in the hero’s voice. "Don’t shout. It’s not necessary. We just - mislaid your partner, that’s all. Discord is looking for him. And - uh - if you hand over the stone - I can tell you exactly where he is."
Hercules was staring, his face set in stone and his eyes flashing.
"You - mislaid him?"
The god of war shrugged. "Minor setback. Unreliable help. You know the sort of thing ..."
Hercules very carefully reached down and threaded the crystal arrow though his belt. Then he took a pace forward with a menacing step. "So that’s why Discord was in the Lodge yesterday." A thought flashed across his mind and he hesitated, hope lighting his eyes. "He escaped, didn’t he? Iolaus got away from you. And you let me think ..."
"Don’t jump to conclusions," Ares warned, sidling a little closer as he did so. "He’s hardly out of my reach. Not if I have - this!" He dove forward and snatched; the chain that held the crystal stone snapped under the pressure. Just as quickly, Hercules grabbed the immortal hand that had seized its ruby light before the god could retreat with his prize.
They struggled. Back and forth across the wooden docking, fighting for possession of the intricate jewel. Planking snapped under their weight. Ares kicked his brother down and they rolled, over and over, struggling, one to retrieve the delicate crystal, the other to possess it. They crashed through upturned boats, scattered oars and baskets, and demolished the drying racks. The god of war thrust the heel of his hand under Hercules’s chin and shoved backwards, trying to break his restraining grip. They kicked across to the edge of quay. Water churned and bounced beneath them as their titanic struggle shook the very ground.
Somewhere in that frenetic melee, the prize they fought for was thrown free, It flew up in an arc, Ares abandoning his hold to reach after it, only to double up as Hercules drove a solid fist into his stomach. The stone landed on the planking and skittered away, muscled hands scrabbling after it; Ares seized his brother’s ankle and dragged him back, reaching instead for the arrow that was still tucked into his belt. Hercules kicked out; the struggle degenerated into a mad tusssle that neither seemed able to win ...
"Stop it," a voice commanded sternly. The melee went on. "Stop it. Stop it right now!"
The order was stentorian. Both combatants froze, turning as one to look at the owner of the voice.
Missy was standing on the dockside, dogs milling behind her. She looked from one to the other for a moment, then bent and picked up the dark red crystal from where it lay at her feet.
"Missy," Hercules reacted anxiously, easing himself away from his brother. "Don’t - this isn’t safe for you."
She’d paused to study the stone; she looked up at his words and smiled gently.
"Don’t worry, Hercules. I told you everything would work out fine. This is the final piece of the puzzle. And my explanation. Don’t lie there like a slab of meat, Ares. You look ridiculous."
Ares sat up, frowning at her as he adjusted his tunic and dusted some of the debris from his shoulders. "Who asked you to the party?" he demanded petulantly. She grinned.
"You did. Or did you really think I’d let you get away with three insults like that?"
Hercules stared at her, trying to work out what going on. Ares looked puzzled. "Three?"
Missy ticked them off on her fingers, the broken chain dangling down from her hand like a bright flash of light. "You kidnap a guest of my house under my protection. You lure him away on the pretext of a message from me - and then you send that harpy to set fire to the place and ruin a hundred years of work. It took me forever to get the Lodge comfortable and now I’m going to have to start again. I’m not happy, Ares. Particularly the way you arrange for my guests to be treated."
Ares winced. "I - uh - Ahh. Listen - I just wanted the arrow. Karvo probably got a little - enthusiastic?"
"Enthusiastic, my ass," she shot back. Hercules blinked in confusion. It was Missy standing there, wasn’t it? Or was it -
Comprehension struck and he slumped back against the nearest fractured hull, rolling his eyes skywards as he did so.
Artemis.
She was herself, and she was Missy, the two the same, one a mortal version of the goddess, a carefully cultured disguise that had masked her divine nature, even to his eyes. The mortal cloak was dropping away, revealing the goddess beneath; the woman blossomed into true beauty, a slender figure in tight buckskins, the curve of her bow sitting at her shoulder, right where it belonged.
How much of that did Iolaus get to see? Hercules wondered, studying her true face and trying to comprehend why he hadn’t realised who she was earlier. Much more than he had, he suspected. The woman his friend had fallen for had been everything he’d claimed after all ...
"He was - bored, I guess," Ares was saying, somewhat defensively. Artemis snorted.
"You keep bad company."
"Right - hey -" Comprehension dawned in the dark eyes and they flashed with sudden anger. "If you know about ... That means you have him, doesn’t it? You stole that little - "
"That’s enough," she snapped. "Your game is over, Ares. You’ve lost." Her eyes drifted down to the stone in her hand and she frowned. "Pieces of the staff, huh? Picking them up, bit by bit? It won’t work, you know."
He climbed to his feet and tried to assume innocence. On anyone else it might have worked. On Ares the look was faintly pompous - and utterly unconvincing. "What won’t?"
"You know. Especially now I have this - and the arrow. I’ll take it, Hercules. I can put it somewhere safe."
"Now wait a minute." Hercules climbed to his feet and frowned at her. "I’m not giving this up to anyone. At least, not until I know my friend is safe."
Ares harumphed. "Still worried about the mortal, little brother? You would be. You think she’s going to give him up?" His smile was an evil one. "Knowing him, he probably managed to desecrate her Temple with at least one of her faithful flock. That’s a big no-no with her, you know? I know your rules, Arte, baby. Everything comes with a price."
His words were delivered with teasing sarcasm. She looked him straight in the eye. "If there was any price due," she said flatly, "it was paid. In full. And more. Unlike you," she added pointedly, "I don’t abandon my own. I work the issues out."
"So what are you gonna do with him?" he drawled bitingly. "Turn him into rabbit? Or a weasel ...?"
Artemis ignored him. "Hercules," she said softly, "I have a gift for you. I owe you an apology. I hope this goes some way to repaying that need."
"I don’t want gifts," he said, still trying to understand what Ares was talking about. She ignored him, too.
"Hero," she called, turning to the hounds that sat behind her. The golden coated dog rose to its feet and trotted over to join her. The marks on its back were gone; the coat was thick and glossy as if freshly brushed, and there was no sign of weariness in the eager wag of its tail. "Go to Hercules," she ordered, firmly. "Go on. You belong with him."
What?
Hercules frowned as the dog bounded across the distance, looking down at the eager eyes that looked up at him with expectation. "Now - wait," he protested, feeling decidedly railroaded. "I can’t take one of your dogs. I have a partner. And besides - a hound of Artemis? That’s a generosity I couldn’t possibly accept."
The dog whined softly. He tried to ignore it. Ares looked disgusted. Artemis laughed. "You want me to take him back? Oh, Hercules. Do you really think I’d gift you with - " She broke off, glancing across at Hero with a sudden speculative look in her eye. "One of my own …?" she concluded, almost under her breath. A slow smile lit her features as she considered this idea. "Y-es," she breathed. "Oh, yes. Yes," she crowed, grinning with delight. "Of course. That’s exactly what I have the power to give. And should have seen it sooner, too ... Hercules," she announced, savouring some private joke he didn’t understand, "I insist. My hounds run where they wish - and I doubt I could keep this one from your side, even if I wanted to. Besides," she added warmly, "the life I lead would be a little hard for a mortal hound to follow. He’ll be safer with you for a while. His place in my pack is assured though. He earned it. Believe me. He earned it."
She reached for her bow as she spoke, unlimbering it with an easy gesture. Ares tensed, but it wasn’t him that the glittering arrow was aimed at. It hit the dog, who jumped - and then unfolded into a man, his blond locks falling in an unruly tumble of gold, his blue eyes alight with familiar mischief.
"Iolaus?" Hercules couldn’t quite believe his eyes. "Iolaus!" He snatched the man up with astonished delight, lifting him off his feet almost before he had time to regain them and smothering him in the kind of hug that Ursus would probably be proud of.
"Hey," Iolaus laughingly protested, "Herc! Come on. Put me down, ya lunk. Anyone would think you hadn’t seen me for days ..."
He put him down - carefully, holding on to bare shoulders and taking a good long look while the situation sank home. Same eyes, same smile, same sun touched tousle of hair; same compact, muscular figure, clad in what looked like new boots, new pants - and new armbands, all fashioned from soft dark leather, laced with tan thonging and gleaming with silver trim. Same old amulet though, hanging over his breastbone as usual. The only thing missing from the picture was the well patched purple waistcoat.
"Mmm?" his partner grinned, returning the consideration with an amused twinkle in his eye. The grin was infectious; Hercules returned it, lifting one hand from a warm shoulder to jab his partner lightly in the chest with a playful fist. Iolaus immediately dodged, catching his friend’s hand before before the blow could reach its target, waved a mischievous finger in mock warning - and then responded with an equally friendly back handed slap to a well muscled stomach.
"C’me here," Hercules growled, grabbing with mock ferocity and wrapping the man in a second hug - one that Iolaus did not protest, but returned with back slapping enthusiasm.
"Well that looks like a good choice," Ares drawled sardonically. "He certainly acts like a puppy dog."
"Yeah?" Iolaus challenged, held back by his friend’s broad arm. "Well, come a little closer and see how I bite ..."
"Some other time," Hercules suggested, his glance down holding a warning note; the hunter’s eagerness subsidised a little, but he stayed glaring at the dark clad god with undaunted eyes.
"Your business here is over, Ares," Artemis announced. The god of war folded his arms and frowned at her, clearly trying to assess her mood.
"Over," she repeated, matching his look with stern command. "Or do you want me to mention what you’ve been up to - to Zeus, perhaps?" She’d still been cradling the ruby pendant; now she let it dangle from her fingers, lifting her hand so that she could study its colour in the light. "I know what this is," she warned. "And I know what you might do with it, should you ever collect the rest of the set. I shall be watching you from now on. Remember that."
"Pah," Ares spat, his eyes fixed greedily on the glittering jewel. "Don’t think you can bully me, just because you’re daddy’s little girl. I’m not scared of you." He shot a look of contempt at his half brother and smiled malevolently. "You know she’s as much of a bastard child as you are? And that Hera likes her about as much? Enjoy your little victory - while it lasts." His hand swept out, a single finger jabbing at the mortal among them with imperious scorn. "You," he snapped, letting out a little of the anger that burned in his eyes. "You’re still on my list."
He was answered by an impudent smile - followed by a melodramatic growl, delivered with bared teeth and ending in a sharp bark and a snap in his direction. The god looked briefly alarmed, then glowered with annoyance and vanished in a huff.
Ioluas collapsed back against his partner’s chest and heaved a decided sigh of relief. "Boy," he observed with feeling. "Am I glad he’s gone."
Artemis laughed, a warm sound of amusement. "I’m not surprised," she said with a warm chuckle. "Is he always this bold?"
Hercules was grinning down at his friend’s expression. "Always," he affirmed, shaking his head with affectionate and long suffering resignation. He looked up, over blond locks, and met eyes full of moonlight in a sculptured face. "Thank you," he mouthed, knowing that he couldn’t express his gratitude sufficiently with mere words. She smiled and shook her head.
"No thanks are needed, big brother. There’s nothing more satisfying than beating Ares at his own game. And this one was a game that needed to stopped. He grows too ambitious for his own good."
"You can say that again," Iolaus murmured, glancing up at Hercules with a worried look. "He’s after the staff of Chronos, Herc. Thinks he can rule the world if he gets hold of it."
"He could," the goddess affirmed grimly. "Only he won’t - not now."
"The staff of - " Hercules dropped his hand to the arrow at his belt. No wonder it had felt familiar. The power echoed that of the Chronos stone. And it had come this close to being in Ares’s hands ...
He tugged it free and stared at it for a moment, wondering what he was supposed to do now. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that could be left safely lying around. His sister was watching him. And so was his friend, blue eyes creased in anxious concern. Hero’s blue eyes, he realised, fixed on him with the same earnest honesty that the dog had possessed ...
The answer was obvious. He handed over the shimmering arrow to its rightful owner; the man for whom it had been won - and the only one with a right to decide its fate. "Here," he said, "you wanted it. It’s yours." He paused to glance in the goddess’s direction, then back at his friend with a quiet smile. "Choose a little more wisely this time, huh?"
Iolaus stared at him, glancing down at the artefact with disconcertion. Somewhere a dog barked, softly, a high pitched, sharp little bark.
"Choose?" the hunter echoed - then let a slow grin curl onto his features, one filled with comprehension and a little embarrassment, one that said yeah, yeah, okay ... He took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and turned, meeting the eyes of a goddess with bold resolution.
"I - I wanted to win this for Missy," he admitted, a little defensively. "So I suppose I should offer it to you." A smile quirked at his lips, betraying a hint of nervousness. "I mean - you already have my heart ..."
Her eyes flicked to the stone that still lay in her hand; her head dipped with what might have been a self-consciousness smile - if she hadn’t been a child of Olympus, and goddess of the waxing Moon.
"So I do," she murmured. He, in turn, looked away in embarrassment, as if that hadn’t quite come out the way he’d intended it to. Somewhere behind him, Hercules felt that his presence was becoming a little superfluous; he dropped his hand to his friend’s shoulder, and cleared his throat with a deliberate cough.
"I’ll - uh - leave you two to talk," he said tactfully. "I have - a party to get back to."
Iolaus’s eyes lit up. "A party …? Ohh, right," he registered, "the victory celebrations." His grin was grateful. "I’ll - catch up with you."
"We’ll catch up with you," Artemis corrected firmly. Hercules wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look in her eye, but he was sure Iolaus would be safe enough in her company - for a while at least. He smiled and strolled back into Pentheos, leaving them standing together on the dock. He hoped they wouldn’t be too long; he knew his mortal partner would just hate to miss a good party.
It wasn’t until he’d walked halfway to the stadium, his mind wrestling with the events of the past few days that the full realisation hit him. That Iolaus had been Hero all along - right from the moment that he’d first seen him, with those savagely torn flanks and a bloodied coat. He halted abruptly in the deserted square and drew in a deep breath, unable to help the sudden chill that ran through him. It didn’t take much imagination to translate that vicious damage from the image of the beaten dog to that of the man, shivering with the same helpless pain. Fury briefly clenched his fists and he forced himself to relax with an effort. It was over; Missy’s clipped words that day had conveyed more far information than he’d known.
Who’d do such a thing? he’d asked.
Someone who won’t do it again ...
Her silence had not been at the failure of her hunt, but at its success. There’d be no need to hunt down Karvo and his brutal mercenaries. They’d have paid for their savagery, judged not by a mortal court of law but by a goddess fired by righteous fury. Swift justice; for once he felt no stirrings of sympathy for mortals punished at immortal whim. Only shame - that mortal men could inflict such cruelty for sport - and distress, that the carefree soul he called his friend should be the one to suffer it.
And after that, a surge of wry embarrassment as he recalled how he had helped to treat the wounded animal that Missy had taken into her care. Along with that frank and open confidence he had shared with Hero, about how he felt about his partner ...
"He really trusts you, doesn’t he?" Artemis’s words were soft; Iolaus tore his eyes from Hercules’s distant figure to turn and study those of the goddess beside him instead. The question threw him for a moment and he struggled to identify its relevance.
"Well, yeah - I - " Comprehension dawned and he looked down at the delicate arrow that still lay within his hand. "You mean about this, right? I suppose he does. It’s - uh - you he’s not sure about ..."
He half expected her to frown, but she laughed instead, a soft chuckle of amusement that engendered reassurance rather than apprehension. "Hercules has reason to distrust all of Olympus," she observed with a hint of sympathy. "But not all the gods pursue the same agendas. And Hera has a hatred for me almost as deep as the one she harbours for him. Our father," she considered a little archly, "has a lot to answer for …"
He had to smile - Zeus’s wanton behaviour was as notorious as his wife’s malice. But, if the king of the gods had behaved any differently, there’d be no Hercules - or even this wild eyed goddess, whose hand now rested on his arm with easy familiarity. The same goddess who, in mortal guise had, only five nights before - the smile twisted with a wince. "Guess it runs in the family," he muttered, before he could stop himself. There was a trace of bitterness in the words, an ironic comprehension of his own flaws and how he’d allowed himself to be fooled yet again.
The hand on his arm had tightened, reacting to his words; Artemis was staring at him with concern. "I’ve hurt you," she realised. "Here." Her other hand still cradled the dark red stone that had cost him so much pain. "But how, Iolaus? What have I done?"
Her bafflement was genuine, and her concern draped around him like a cloak; while she held the crystal, he realised, there would be no escape from her presence, even if he turned and walked away. All the same, it was easier not to meet her eyes. "You deceived me," he accused, dismissing what could have been strong words with a resigned shrug. It wasn’t much of an accusation, he knew. The gods played games with mortals every day, played with them, used them - and then moved on. He just felt - vaguely aggrieved. And was embarrassed to be feeling it, because he owed her his life.
"I didn’t mean to hurt you by it." Her words were a soft sigh. They held - among other things - honest remorse. "My poor Hero," she breathed, releasing her hold on his arm to stroke his the curve of his shoulder with a gentle caress. "It was just a game. A wild hunt across the forest and the victorious Huntress claiming her prize at the end of it. I was going to tell you. When Hercules came I was going to tell you. And you would have laughed and seen the joke and - " She broke off with a small laugh that was clearly self directed. "I never learn," she sighed. "First Orion. Then Endymion. And now you." She’d half turned away; now she turned back with a rueful expression that was trying hard to be a smile. "I’m a great goddess," she admitted with a small shrug. "But I’m lousy at figuring relationships."
Iolaus quirked a wry smile at that. He had to. Because the whole situation was ridiculous ...
"So," he noted warily, "that day you ‘rescued’ me from Ursus. You knew exactly who I was, right?"
Artemis looked a little sheepish. "I knew. You think I’d forget - after all that business with the apple and stuff?"
His reaction to that reminder was equally sheepish; they shared a moment’s awkward silence born from past events and their subsequent consequences. "Actually," he admitted into the uncertain space that had opened between them, "I was rather hoping you might have done …"
She stared at him for what felt like forever - than laughed, a smothered half giggle of reaction she couldn’t suppress. "I can understand that." She tilted her head the barest amount, adding a hint of impishness to her stance. "It’s forgotten. As long as you forgive me for - well," her cheeks coloured with unexpected modesty, "not that, exactly - I mean all the stuff that went with it."
He grimaced, an expression half reminiscent grin, half rueful comprehension. She’d used him - but he hadn’t exactly objected to it. To her, perhaps, it really had begun as a game. And - unlike Xena and her calculated planning - her pretence had never been of something she wasn’t. Just of something a little less than she could be.
She was leaning forward with conspiratorial closeness. "And just as long as you don’t start treating me like some - " Her lips curled into a soft smile, "revered goddess. To you, I should just be Missy. Hercules’s sister, and your friend. I promise to earn your affection, Iolaus. Not demand it."
"I don’t know," he responded, uncomfortable with what she asked. "I mean - I run into gods all the time, you know? Ares and Discord and - uh - ones like Callisto. And I’m with Hercules on this. I don’t - trust - Olympians. They kind of like mortals to obey and worship them."
"That’s true," she allowed. "But to me you’re not just any mortal - not any more. You’ve run with my pack and hunted at my side. I could command your loyalty. I could enforce your obedience. But not even Zeus can dictate a man’s love - and I don’t mean the kind of thing that Aphrodite gives out tickets for. I mean real love - the kind of deep seated, unquestioning devotion you already have for Hercules. That’s what I ask for from my hounds - and that’s what I hope to earn a little of from you. Your friendship. Your honest friendship." She shrugged a little uncertainly. "I may not always live up to my side of the bargain, but I’ll try."
He gave her a sideways look, measuring the truth of her words and weighing them up as he did so. Not all his dealings with the gods had been negative ones; he was actually quite fond of Aphrodite - although he didn’t trust her for one moment. Artemis, he suspected, was a little less self centred - but no less capricious; she was a goddess after all.
A Huntress. One that had ensnared his heart with a deliberate deceit ...
He smiled to himself, caught by a wry consideration.
"What?" she asked, seeing the look that crossed his face.
"Oh - " He shrugged. "Just - if I can manage to be friends with Xena, I don’t think you’re being a goddess should count against you." She looked puzzled. He shrugged a second time. "She tried to kill me. And Herc. Actually, she tried to get me to kill Herc …" He turned to face her, his expression pensive. "I owe you more than my life, Lady of the Moon. And you cared for me - tended my hurts, soothed my pain - when you didn’t have to do that. You could have asked Niale, or Lupa - any of them - to look after me. But you didn’t. I appreciate it. I really do. It’s just that - " He paused for a breath and a glance out at the lake, still finding it hard to meet her eyes. "You are Artemis. The daughter of Zeus. The sister of Apollo, the goddess of the Amazons, the patroness of hunters … I was offering you sacrifices when I was just knee high to my grandfather. And now - you want to be my friend?"
Her expression was sympathetic. Her hand brushed his cheek with the gentleness of thistledown. "You know what I’d really like?" she murmured. "That every night of the full moon could be that night - over and over again. But I am Artemis. I can’t run away from it. I’m the goddess of the hunt, the protector of the wild, and the defender of the carefree heart. My virtue is my strength and - uh - " she shrugged, "I have rules." She took a pace away from him and stared out over the lake, just as he was doing. "Be my friend, Iolaus," she begged softly. "Welcome me if I drop by; remember me when you walk in wild country - and come hunt with me when the moon is up and the deer running for the joy of it.
"I’ve named you as one of my own - and there’ll be a place for you among my hounds whenever you are ready to take it. But I don’t want you to take it - not just yet." Her voice dropped a little deeper, echoing with a hint of her divinity. "You must live your life to the full, Hero. And if - " her tones went back to warm normality, underwritten with laughter, "if chasing after Hercules gets you into trouble again, I might turn up to haul you out of the fire. But don’t count on it."
He wrestled with a chagrined smile - and lost, the warmth of it lighting up his face. "Then I’ll - try and stay out of trouble. So’s not to put you to any inconvenience." He looked at her a moment longer, then acquiesced with the kind of dismissive shrug that said I’m really embarrassed about this, but - "Friends?" he offered, spreading his arms to do so. She stepped between them, capturing him with her own.
"Friends," she confirmed, sealing the deal with a sisterly kiss to his cheek. "And thank you ..."
"No - no," he protested. "I should be thanking you. For saving my butt - " He realised what he was saying and coloured a little. "Probably literally ...," he acknowledged, half under his breath. "And for the rest of it. Keeping an eye on Herc, for one thing." He half lifted one arm to admire the handiwork that encircled it. "The new gear for another."
Artemis chuckled warmly. "The old stuff was a little - damaged," she considered. "It’s a real pain getting bloodstains out of worn leather, you know? And I like my hounds to look their best."
They were standing face to face, her arms draped comfortably around his waist; he glanced down at his other arm, realising - as he did so - that he still had hold of the crystal arrow. His eyes narrowed. His lips pressed together in a moment of thought - and then he carefully reached to slide the delicate artefact into the quiver that hung at her belt.
The Huntress smiled.
"So," he wondered, reciprocating her companionable embrace and looking her boldly in the eye. "Since I’m the one that owes all the gratitude, what are you thanking me for?"
"Well," she replied, "there’s a lot of things I can think of, but - mostly because, since I was the one breaking my rules - you paid a price I had no right to ask. You offered up your pain, wanting to protect the mortal I had become - from my own retribution."
"Oh. That. You know," he pointed out, "I didn’t exactly have a lot of choice about this ‘price’ of yours. That bully would have flayed me alive even if I’d cursed every blow in Ares name - "
She put her finger to his lips to silence him, her eyes lit up with amused affection. "You didn’t. You thought of Missy - and you prayed to me. I know a fervent dedication when I get one. You have a good heart, Iolaus. And I should give it back to you. Before this toy of Ares slows its beat so much that I no longer have a mortal hound for company - just an undying corpse."
"A what?" he questioned, looking alarmed.
"You heard," she retorted softly, letting go with one arm so that she could lift a hand to stroke his cheek. The dark red warmth of the smaller crystal pulsed within the curl of her fingers. Her lips widened with a mischievous smile; her other arm tugged him close - and all of a sudden he was very close indeed, her lips seeking his, her body pressed so tightly against him that he could feel every moment of her warmth, every beat of her wild heart. He pulled her even closer, responding to the unexpected contact with decided relish. Her kiss was tender, a affectionate contact rather than a passionate one; still, he could taste the sweetness of nectar on her breath, and with it the fire of her immortal soul. Somewhere - lost in that instant of eternity - he felt her fingers splay open over his heart. The stone stayed pressed between them. And the power of it surged into him like a wave, a inundation of exquisite ecstasy - one that carried the echo of a deeper pleasure, shared in the silence of the moon ...
Hercules was beginning to think Iolaus was going to miss the party when he finally caught sight of him, strolling through the crowd with Missy’s arm linked though his on the one side and Alceste’s on the other. Lupa and Niale were close behind, walking decorously but eyeing up the festive crowd with anticipation. Now he knew, Hercules recognised the youthful trio for what they truly were - and was amused at how effective his sister’s disguise had been in concealing the wild nature of her nymphs.
Well, he smiled, watching the little group make its way through the rowdy festivities, mostly effective, anyway …
Dryads - like satyrs - liked to party. And the three of them were clearly itching for permission to do just that, their eyes bright and their faces lit with eager smiles. Smiles almost as bright as the one Iolaus was wearing, in fact. Hercules hid a smile of his own behind the rim of his wine goblet and took the opportunity to take a better look at the man he’d feared never to see again.
Artemis had been generous with her gifts, it seemed; Iolaus now sported a jerkin that easily matched the rest of his new finery - a sleeveless vest cut from dark green suede, its shoulders overlaid with intricately woven and buckled strips of leather and the rest of it embellished with a scattering of silver stars. He practically gleamed in the dying embers of the day, his hair a blazing halo that caught and held the light, his skin burnished with a hint of gold, and the touches of silver at wrist and waist glinting with little diamond flashes of light. But his smile was still the brightest thing about him, a confident, easy smile that was a real pleasure to see.
"Hey, Herc!" he called as they came close enough to be heard above the general hubbub. "You let them start without me!"
Hercules grinned. "You’ll catch up," he called back, tipping back the goblet he was holding to drain the last dregs of wine from its depths. When he looked down Iolaus was standing right in front of him, a broad grin written across his face.
"Some party, huh?" The observation was a cheery one. "And I’d heard they didn’t know how to have fun in Arcadia." He threw a sideways look at his company as he delivered the line, and Missy swallowed a snort of laughter.
"You’d find a party in the depths of Tarterus," Hercules pointed out, thrusting his now empty goblet into the man’s hands. "So go fill that up for me will you? Before you get round to drinking the rest of it."
Iolaus laughed. "Sure. Missy? You want some wine?"
"I’d love some," she answered, releasing her hold on his arm to find a place next to Hercules on the bench he’d appropriated. "As red as it comes. Bring back a skin or two. And something to eat - honey cake if there’s any left."
"Anything else, my lady?" he enquired, poised like a skittish colt ready to run for the sheer joy of it.
"Just your sweet self," she requested, and he giggled, springing away to pursue his errand with bouyant steps. The three nymphs were left behind, a trio of hopeful faces fixed on their mistress with expectation. "Go. Have fun," Missy ordered, shooing them away with a casual hand, and they went with a whoop, scattering away into the crowd.
Hercules watched them vanish with a quiet smile. He had a distinct feeling that there were three princes who were in for a lively evening ...
"They’ll stay out of trouble," Missy considered warmly. "Unlike a certain hound of mine, I think. He cleans up nicely, though, doesn’t he?"
He chuckled, turning to look at his sister with thoughtful consideration. She was once again cloaked in her mortal disguise, although it wasn’t hard to see the goddess beneath, once you knew to look. And she was beautiful. She always had been. He just hadn’t been looking at her properly ... He looked at her now, smiling slightly as he realised just how thoroughly she’d fooled him. She had dressed for the party Amazon style, in tight painted leathers that had been embellished with strips of fur and layers of shimmering feathers, and there was a delicate crystal hanging just above the curve of her breasts. The stone was no longer a dark and pulsing red, but a glimmer of palest pink against the soft bronze of her skin. Her hand drifted up to touch it, her eyes following the line of his gaze. "I think it remembers what it held," she said softly. "Or else there’s a little of him left within it. An echo perhaps. But his life is his own again - to live or to lose as he wishes. I do not chain my hounds," she added thoughtfully.
Hercules frowned, warily. "You meant - what you said, didn’t you? About his place in your pack ..."
"His place at your side," she corrected warmly. "I gave him to you, remember? But yes - I have named him as one of my own. A hound of Artemis. After all," she smiled, "he did draw my bow. It’s not something I let just anyone do, you know."
"I suppose not. Well, if anyone deserves such an honour, I guess he does." Hercules sighed, recalling days when the man they discussed had more than earned honour and reward - only to be passed by, practically unacknowledged while common folk and kings heaped praise and gratitude on the son of Zeus.
Artemis laughed. "It’s not just an honour," she said, "it’s a responsibilty. Come on, big brother. You know the gifts of the gods all come with double edges. Carrying my mark is just as likely to make him a target as it is to open doors. Not all the powers that walk this earth think kindly of me. But it will recruit as many allies as it will enemies - and some of those in unexpected places."
Her brother smiled, a wry consideration of his life and the forces that shaped it. "That sounds familiar," he noted dryly. "Listen - about Ares - "
She put up a hand to forstall the rest of his words, shaking her head with authority. "My problem. But - uh - if you - either of you - happen to stumble over another peice of the staff, you’d better make sure he can’t get his hands on it. He may not be able to recreate the whole thing without this - " Her hand brushed the crystal, "or the arrow, but ... There is power in the pieces, Hercules. Power he should be denied. He’ll be a little more circumspect now he knows I’m watching him, but that won’t stop him. It never does."
"Ares and I have a long history," Hercules said. "This setback is just going to make him more determined. And you be careful, Artemis. You and I already share one common enemy. Don’t make it two."
"Missy," she corrected firmly, deliberately ignoring the advice. "Call me Missy. Daddy does. And so do my hounds - all seven of them," she added with a soft smile. It widened into a warmer greeting as Iolaus remerged from the crowd, a pair of hefty serving men at his heels.
"Wine from Sparta," he announced blithly, "dates from Egypt, honey cake from the royal kitchen - and a few other bits and pieces I picked up on the way." He gestured at the bearers of his booty and they placed heavily laden trays onto the bench. Missy’s eyes went a little wide.
"Now that was good hunting," she laughed. "How did you know we’d be that hungry?"
Iolaus waved his hand with dismissive confidence. "Herc’s always hungry. Besides," he added, lifting the nearest jug to begin filling the goblets beside it, "I haven’t eaten a decent meal in days." He paused to throw his partner a knowing grin. "A little soup - a little cheese ..."
Hercules swung a good-humored backhand at him, confident that he’d duck. Which he did, avoiding the blow with amused ease.
"Here," he giggled, handing over filled goblets - the first to Missy, who took it, spilled a little to the ground at her feet, then drank, watching the good natured interplay between the two men with fascinated eyes. The second went to Hercules; he’d half lifted it to drink when he realised what he thought he’d seen - and reached to snatch at his friend’s retreating wrist instead.
"Hey," his captive half protested, half laughed. "Now what did I do?"
"Nothing - yet," Hercules assured him. "Show me your hand."
"My hand?" Iolaus looked down, turning his hand so that the palm lay uppermost against the dark background of Hercules’s leather bracer. His eyes widened and he glanced up at his friend before looking down again, obviously not believing what he saw. "Hey - how did that get there?"
That was what looked like a tattoo, or perhaps a brand - if either of those came in liquid silver, that is. The curve of tiny half moon had somehow been incised into the heel of his right hand, between his wrist and his thumb. It was hardly an ostenatious mark - just a simple curve scarcely the length of a finger joint - but it lay against the warm gold of his skin like a sliver of mirrored glass.
Cerulean eyes lifted to meet steel blue ones - and then, almost as one man, they turned to stare at the slender figure who shared their company. Missy smiled, toasting them both with the rich dark wine.
"Good health, big brother," she laughed. "And good hunting - Hero."
The party lasted well into the night, a whirl of laughter and dancing paced with songs and stories; the wine flowed freely, and the tales - like the dancing - grew wilder. But in the end the musicians grew weary enough to lay down their flutes and lyres and the dancers and the drunks staggered away into the dark. It was a celebration the city would remember for many years, although it was said - much later - that those who’d been there had been able to recall very little of the night’s events by the time the dawn finally came. Had the wild spirits of the woods come out to join their revelry? Had the king really cavorted on tables while his sons kissed practically every woman in the crowd? And had the Huntress herself danced among them in the moonlight, treading a wild measure with the champion of the games and a golden haired Adonis who had eyes only for her? Most of the citizens didn’t wake up until noon, by which time it was far too late to ask either of the two men who might have been able to answer their questions. They left Pentheos shortly after the dawn, heading south because that’s where Azan had said most of the mercenaries headed once they’d been paid. South lay the wilder reaches of Arcadia - and after that the lands and cities of Laconia, which included the austere city of Sparta.
"I’ve not been to Sparta for a while," Iolaus noted, taking his usual two paces to keep up with each of Hercules’s measured steps. The buckles and plates on his new finery gleamed in the morning sun and Hercules wondered when - if ever - the dust of the road would tarnish them. At least Artemis had thought to restore his well worn vest; the princely garment that now lay folded in the bottom of its owner’s pack would only have attracted attention along the trail. Not to mention that it was far too good for wearing in the wilderness. It would take a great many parties to reduce that piece of peacockery to second best.
Not that Iolaus would appreciate being compared to a peacock. The peacock was the bird sacred to Hera.
And the wily hunter now walked with the mark of Artemis in his palm ...
"It’s still a fine city," Hercules said. "And a well run one. Its people are dedicated to discipline. They’ve made it an art."
"Yeah. Yeah - I know. They raise warriors as hard as steel. All those cold baths and days of self denial. Crazy."
The son of Zeus laughed; his partner was probably tougher than a dozen Spartans - and self denial had never been on his training schedule. All the same ...
"Just one thing," he advised, throwing his company a warm grin. "When we get there? Watch who you smile at. They may get the wrong idea."
"Watch who I - ? Herc -" An indignant hand slapped his shoulder. "As if ... Hey -" Mischief gleamed in laughing blue eyes. "You think they might think you and I -? Naayh. Don’t go there, Iolaus," the warrior advised himself, shaking his head and feigning a heartfelt shudder. He took a few more strides before observing, somewhat worriedly: "I wonder if Karvo had Spartan blood ...?"
"What?" Hercules reacted, not connecting the comment with the jest. Iolaus shuddered a second time, this one for real.
"Nothing," he responded hastily. "Nothing. Just a thought ..."
They walked on in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the day, and the company, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Iolaus started to whistle, a soft tune that danced through a cheerful cadance before it settled into a more haunting melody. The landscape swallowed them, two figures immersed in distance. Travellers on the road of life. Heroes in search of their destiny.
"So," Hercules might have been heard to ask about a league later. "What was it like being a dog?"
"What was it like being a pig?"
"Good point."
Another half a league.
"Iolaus?"
"Mmm?"
"Did you sleep with my sister?"
"Do you really expect me to answer that?"
"You did. Didn’t you."
"I didn’t say that. You said that. I didn’t say that."
"So you did, right?"
"Herc!"
"I wouldn’t be angry if you had ..."
"I am not going to discuss this. I refuse to discuss this ..."
And the conversation, like the figures that spawned it, faded into the distance ...
No hound of Artemis suffered permanent damage in this production. The status of the virgin goddess may have been briefly compromised during the course of the tale, but it was her idea ...
