Iolaus grinned hugely at the blonde serving wench on his lap; he couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to enjoy a woman who didn't need rescuing or want to kill him. This particular girl was a fine specimen: a lusty farmer's daughter, with full red lips and a fuller figure, she listened to all his stories and laughed at all his jokes. Hercules had a similar crowd of doll eyed girls, but only the most persistent: the rest had quickly centered on Iola us once they realized who was more likely to return their attention.
Ordering another mug of ale, Iolaus happened to look towards the door. A sudden hush, quickly followed by low murmurs swept over the room as the woman in the door strode in. Not by any stretch of the imagination a girl; the sword at her hip said that plainly. Clad in brown breeches and a white tunic with the sleeves rolled up, she had a golden blonde braid that hung to her waist. But her eyes were what struck him: despite her serious expression, there was something about those wide green eyes that made them quite possibly the prettiest he'd ever seen. Obviously not a stranger to the inn, she headed straight for the bar. The laughter and ruckus of the inn resumed soon after.
Hercules was also watching the woman; that silence said that her face was not only known here, but that she was someone to tread lightly around. At the moment, though, she seemed intent on her drink. He glanced back to Iolaus; his attention was already returned to the blonde. Smiling faintly, he decided that perhaps he ought to find someone else to share a room with; Iola us would undoubtedly be wanting privacy tonight.
Sure enough, it wasn't long before Iolaus disappeared upstairs with his prize. Hercules stayed just long enough to finish his drink before following.
The inn was crowded; and as a result nearly everyone was sharing a room. Still, he was determined to find someone who wasn't. He knew which room Iolaus was in, and knocked gently on the door just next to it. A silence, then the door swung open--revealing the woman he'd noted in the common room.
"Sorry to disturb you--I thought this room was empty. I'll find another, again my apologies." He had no intention of sharing a room with a woman who so obviously meant trouble.
To his surprise she smiled pleasantly. "Good luck; I had to pay double the fee myself, just to avoid sharing a room with some drunken lout. If you need a room, you're welcome to share mine. I won't bite, you know." She grinned, seeming to have no hidden intentions, but he was wary.
"Really, I don't want to impose, I just needed--
"You just needed a room to stay in while your friend caroused the night away with Matilda?" Her eyes twinkled.
"Exactly," he said.
She stepped away from the door. "Well, don't stand in the hall all night; come in." She still wore her sword; he would have bet his last dinar that she was rarely apart from it. Settling herself on the edge of the bed, she pulled off her boots and blew out the candle before falling back on the bed. "There's extra blankets about somewhere, help yourself. My name's Helen, by the way."
"I'm Hercules," he replied. Once again, to his surprise, he didn't receive the usual questions, only a vague sound that could be interpreted as acceptance.
Hercules lay quietly on the blankets which made a moderately comfortable bed on the floor. He heard some muted voices from the direction of his own room: Iolaus and Matilda.
Just as he was drifting off, a sudden screech sent him wide awake. A split second later, the candle was lit; Helen was fast with flint and tinder. She sat bolt upright with a knife in one hand and her sword in the other, glaring at the wall. It was only then he realized that the noise came from his own room. He groaned; for once he wished Iolaus could have fun quietly...
"Bloody...." Helen muttered. Several loud thumps followed; it sounded like someone was jumping on a bed. Hercules shoved aside the mental image that came with the noise.
Helen lay back again, the knife disappearing up her sleeve and her hand moving slightly away from her sword. She did not blow out the candle however, so Hercules simply lay back and tried to ignore the noise from the next room--not easy, since Matilda had started moaning.
It went on for about 10 more minutes, with a few muffled shouts from patrons down the hall, when without warning Helen sprang up, took three strides across the room and slapped the door open with her palm. Matilda was interrupted mid-scream as Helen hammered three times on the door before roaring, "Matilda, shove your face in a pillow, or jump out the bloody window before I come in there and throw you out myself! Can't we have a little bloody peace and quiet, dammit?" Moments later Helen stalked back in and slammed the door, blowing out the candle a second time before rolling back into bed. It was, needless to say, a little quieter after that.
The next morning, Hercules emerged from Helen's room--Helen herself seemingly long gone--and knocked on his own door. A rumpled but grinning Iolaus answered.
"A good morning to you! You can come in, Matilda's gone." He seemed bursting with good spirits, and Hercules sighed. "I take it you slept well." he remarked dryly.
"Who said anything about sleeping?" his friend responded mischievously. "Say, where did you spend the night?"
"In the room next to you--that was Helen at your door last night." he went on to explain that Helen was the woman from the common room.
Iolaus tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Y'know, I almost thought she'd come in here."
"Trust me: she would have."
Exploring the village proved fruitful, at least in the way of breakfast. The two men munched apples as they walked, discussing what they'd learned of the town.
"This place hardly looks in the middle of a war," Iolaus murmured.
"I imagine most of the fighting is centered in the capital and around the lord's castle; places like this aren't often troubled."
They were simultaneously interrupted and proved wrong by an abrupt, angry shout: "Traitor! Traitor to the people!"
Spinning around, they saw a young man with a knife, staring down Helen, of all people. It was he who had made the accusation, while Helen looked at him in a mixture of scorn and disdain. "You betrayed us, you and all the Atriedes!" Atriedes, as they had heard, was the name of the last ruler, overthrown during a revolution which had been in turn overthrown by Atriedes supporters. Both sides still squabbled for power, even though the Atriedes family and all their servants had been murdered when the rebels took the castle by night--all except King Leto Atriedes' daughter, who'd disappeared on the same night with the King's Sword Master.
Helen's eyes could have brought on winter early. "You think I'm an Atriedes?"
The man spat. "Everyone knows it! Kings Leto's daughter, future Runner of the House Atriedes. You betrayed your people, just like your father."
It was amazing how so quiet a voice carried, but it did. "If I had not sworn never to bare steel here unprovoked, you'd be dead for what you say."
A crowd had been gathering about the pair. Both Hercules and Iolaus drifted over along with the rest.
"Hah! You think you could kill me with that?" he indicated the sword. "Just because you were trained by a dead Sword Master? Not much of a Sword Master if he's dead! Duncan Idhan was a fool!"
Iolaus hadn't even seen her draw her sword, all he knew was that it was abruptly bared. Yet even the steel of the blade was not as hard as Helen's voice: "That was your first mistake."
The man's face paled, most of his bravado apparently punctured by the sight of steel, but he couldn't back out now. The two fell to circling each other, he with a knife and she with a sword. The crowd was absolutely silent; some of the looks they cast the young man said they thought he deserved whatever he got. A woman started weeping in the back; Iolaus wondered if she knew the man. He got the unpleasant feeling she did.
He struck first, but Helen avoided him with enviable ease. Without stopping, she tripped him, pulled him up by the collar as he fell, and kneed him in the groin all in one smooth move. Dropping him, her face showed no expression as she commanded in a flat voice: "Get up."
The man staggered to his feet, and the circling resumed. Iolaus glanced at Hercules; his friend wore a worried frown. Hearing the sound of a body falling, he turned his attention back to the fight. The man was down again, and Helen waited for him to rise.
On and on it went, rising and falling, until finally the man didn't rise. Helen dug her toe into his side, and was rewarded by a groan--at least he was still alive. After all, she'd hardly drawn any blood. Sheathing her sword, she turned with seeming nonchalance and began to walk away. She didn't see as the man rose one last time, and with a silent snarl, charged towards her, knife upraised.
Iolaus couldn't help it as he shouted, "Behind you!"
Helen whirled, sword out. Alarm spread across her adversary's features, but it was too late to stop himself as he ran full onto her sword. A piercing wail rose from the woman in the back. Iolaus turned away, but could not shut out the words, soft and deadly, "That was your second mistake."
As the crowd drifted away--more from Helen than anything--a young brunette fell to her knees beside the man, tears rolling down her face as she cried in vain for someone to help her. Iolaus watched Helen's face. He'd just seen her kill a man in something close to cold blood—so where was the utter loathing he should've been feeling? Maybe it'd been driven away by her expression: distant and sorrowful; almost an expression of pity as she watched the scene. Abruptly she spun away and continued in the direction she'd been walking.
That evening was a rather somber one in the common room: in such a small town, everyone knew what had happened. Even the buoyant Matilda seemed subdued.
"...had it coming to him, that's what I say."
Iolaus glanced up.
"Gods, man, no one deserves to die like that! She murdered him!"
"We all know what she is, Damien...Atriedes Runners are trained from birth. Killing's in their blood."
"You shut your mouth, Cenn, the Atriedes were a good family, and King Leto knew what he was about! If people like you hadn't gotten yourselves worked up to storm the palace, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"He's right--the Atriedes were fair rulers. The Runners might have been hardened soldiers, but they were fair--she was only defending herself. I'm older than both of you, and I remember the day when the people took Runners into their homes, so grateful they were for the work they did. They teach them everything...healing, fighting, mediating. King Leto's daughter was a good girl, and the women always made the best Runners."
Iolaus tuned out the voices as he reflected on what he'd heard. So Helen was the daughter of an usurped king...and apparently trained in battle. A runner, whatever that was.
No soldier ever had eyes that pretty.
Stop it! She's trouble...
Since when did trouble stop you from doing something?
Since I decided I didn't want to get sliced, diced or tenderized once a day.
Despite all his arguments with himself, later that evening found Iolaus standing outside Helen's door, hand poised to knock. Just go ahead...she might not even be here. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
There was a long pause. Slowly the door opened, and a dagger followed by a face appeared around the corner. Helen eyed him up and down before gesturing for him to come inside.
Closing the door behind her, she turned to look him over again. "What can I do for you?" she asked. Her voice was calm, but she sounded tired.
"I..." It was then that the hunter realized he had absolutely no reason to be here. Closing his mouth, he desperately cast about for a reason to be there. Glancing away and then back at her face, he was surprised to see a smile on her lips.
"I, ah..."
"...teach them everything...healing, fighting...." The half remembered fragment from the common room sprang to his mind. "My back. I slept in some stinging nettle...they say you know something about healing?"
Still smiling, she gave a slight shake of her head before turning to a pack on the floor. Rummaging through it, she emerged with a small wooden box. Motioning him to sit on the bed, she settled in behind him. He heard a few soft rustling noises, then, "Hold still," before he felt some warm lotion being smoothed onto his back. He actually had fallen into some stinging nettle, but it hadn't actually been bad enough to warrant immediate treatment. Her hands were surprisingly smooth. He tried—unsuccessfully--to ignore the pleasant sensation.
"There." He gave an inward sigh; evidently she was done. "Now, if you don't rub it off...it should feel considerably better in a few hours."
Turning around, he grinned at her. "Thanks. I don't think we've been introduced, by the way: my name's Iolaus."
Helen made a small bow from where she stood. "I get the impression you've heard my name in the common room, but in case you haven't, it's Helen." Her tone was rather dry. "Sorry to greet you the way I did, but people are unpredictable...and after what happened today I don't know if they want to slit my throat or give me a medal."
He grimaced slightly. "Well...it was self defense."
"I know," she replied calmly. "But they might not see it that way..." Her face did not move, but her eyes hardened as she said, "They see what they want to see. Especially in an Atriedes."
Iola us shifted uncomfortably. Clearly a change of subject was needed. "Well, I don't suppose you'll want to come down to the common room for a drink then..."
Helen laughed aloud. "I think not...but I happen to know a back way out, if you care for a walk."
Iolaus smiled. "That sounds good."
It was a few hours and unnumbered jokes later that the two found themselves wandering by the banks of the nearby river. The conversation had been light; Iolaus didn't think he was ready to delve into her past too deeply as yet. She, too, seemed content to let it lie, and so far the only question she'd asked had been if his friend was really Hercules, son of Zeus. That he answered rather wearily, and she smiled, changing the subject. That was another thing odd about her--she didn't seem to care who his friend was, which made for a refreshing change.
As they lounged on the banks, he on his back and she sitting against a tree, he finally ventured to ask. "Helen...what exactly is a runner?"
Her face went blank before she replied in a calm voice, "A runner is always of the blood of the ruling House...usually Atriedes, since we started the tradition. A runner is the link between people and ruler--trained in battle, healing, trading, court formalities...anything that might come in handy for them. They fight alongside the army, carry messages too important for a page, and let the King know the pulse of the countryside. They perform any service the people ask as long as it does not harm the King. They are of the blood of the House, yet they are never in line for the throne...their loyalty is to the House above all things. Our blood before theirs."
Her eyes seemed distant, somehow, as though the words were not her own. Suddenly she gave a sharp laugh, coming back to the present. "At least, that's what they told me when I asked...made it sound like a runner was a step below the Gods."
"Who told you?" he asked, curiosity filling his mind.
"Duncan Idahn." she replied. Her tone suggested that further questions might be met with her sword blade, so he didn't pursue it.
They were given no time for further thought, in any case. Helen suddenly leapt up to the sound of horses riding hard. A group of about five mounted men burst into the clearing, drawing in their reins at the sight of Iolaus and Helen. All wore masks.
"Where is the nearest village? Don't bother lying to us; you've tried it before. Just take us there--we have a man injured." It was true: one of them was lashed to the saddle, seemingly unconscious and bleeding badly from a wound in his side.
Helen eyed them up and down. "The Resistance holds no authority here," she said finally. "But I'm sure I can assist you with that injury."
He seemed about to argue, but then decided to be content with the offer of help, saying only, "You'll learn differently soon enough, wench."
Stiffening, but keeping her face smooth, Helen helped them ease the man out of his saddle. Once he was on the ground, she peeled back the blood-plastered cloth at his side, revealing an ugly wound caked with blood and dirt. Muttering, she ordered them to fetch her some water. They obliged, and she washed the wound clean, starting the bleeding over again. Quickly snagging a clean cloth one of them held out, she rummaged in a pouch at her side, pulling out some sweet smelling herb. Packing the wound in it, she deftly re-wrapped the wound and tied it off. "There's nothing more I can do," she said simply. "He may live, if he rests."
Obviously not the answer they wanted. The man snarled, "Take us to the village then, wench, where we can rest without battle!"
"Firstly, I am not a 'wench'. Secondly, I doubt they'd welcome you in the village."
Growling, the man unsheathed his sword. "I haven't got time for this; you may wear a sword like you know how to use it, but I was trained by the best!"
Helen raised a brow. "So was I. And you'll either turn around or learn it the hard way."
Iolaus muttered and unsheathed his own sword; he was prepared to support Helen if things turned ugly, as they would undoubtedly do in a short time. The leader of the gang seemed undecided, but finally dismounted and began circling her. Helen shook her head, and did likewise. Round and round they went, until he dived in what looked to be an opening. She dodged him easily, tripping him to the ground. He recovered quickly, and they began parrying. Iolaus nearly stepped forward, but found a sword at his own throat. One of them, looking older, spoke roughly. "Stay out of it, lad, this is between them alone. Besides, your friend seems to know what she's about." There was a queer sound in his voice that Iola us couldn't place.
Iola us glared, but remained still. Indeed, she did seem to be fighting with relative ease. Gradually, though, her opponent pressed her harder, and he began to see the effort and concentration she put into her fighting. Even then it seemed a game to her, she moved as if dancing, and taunted her adversary with her actions. The man holding Iolaus back frowned through his mask, seeming to be thinking. He was watching as closely as anyone, and seemed oddly tense as the battle continued.
Finally, Helen went down. Iolaus now had to be physically held back (a surprisingly difficult task for the remaining three men), angry and helpless as he watched the man close in on Helen. Leaning in for the killing blow, she suddenly lifted one leg, kicking him in the groin, and rolling to the side. Coming up smoothly from behind, she reached around and deftly slit his throat. Iolaus felt slightly impressed as she wiped her blade on the grass. Coolly, she turned to the others.
The older man who had halted Iolaus seemed shaken. "You fight well, girl...and familiarly. Who taught you that?"
Helen looked at him hard, and spoke slowly. "I was taught by Duncan Idahn, Blademaster and liege-man of Leto Atriedes."
Stock still, then slowly removing his mask, the man made no sound. As the brown leather pulled away, it revealed an old, weathered face, eyes hardened with years, and a long scar running from ear to chin. Helen breathed in sharply.
"Guerny Halleck." She sounded completely stunned.
"Helen Atriedes." A shadow crossed his face. "They said you had died...I..." His voice seemed about to crack. "Helen, if I'd have known, I would have helped you...I had no idea, and then the army fell apart..." Guerny's voice was strained as he apologized for something that obviously no one else present understood.
"I thought you had died defending Lady Jessica, Guerny. I saw you go down as I left the palace..." her voice was distant, and abruptly she changed the subject. "Never you mind, Guerny. It wasn't your fault."
"Is Duncan with you?"
"He's dead." Her voice was toneless, but Iolaus suspected there was a great deal more to the story. He was proved right when Guerny dropped the subject like a burning brand.
"Well, will you take us into the village now?" he asked.
Helen still hesitated. "I can't." His face darkened, but she went on, "It isn't my decision in any case. The townsmen are afraid you'll bring battle down on them, and I don't blame them. Best you move on."
"You should be on our side, Helen. Gods, but we're fighting for your House!--
"House Atriedes is dead, Halleck! You fight for minor lords whose only concern is who will seize the throne once the battle is done, if it ever ends. I have no loyalty to them."
"Girl, you may not have loyalty to them, but you swore an oath: to defend the people alongside your King. I think you owe that, at least."
Helen snarled. "That oath is no more than a pact with the people, Halleck. I see no reason to keep my side if they will not keep theirs."
Halleck shook his head sadly. "Girl, I give you my oath--on my honor--that if you will only take us to the village, no other will hear of it from me. Or any of those that are with me," he added with a significant look to his companions.
They nodded grudgingly, and after a moment Helen unsheathed her sword again. Holding the edge out towards Guerny Halleck, she said softly, "Swear it on this."
Halleck looked at the sword, and suddenly his eyes widened in recognition. He parted his lips to speak, then closed them, seeing the harsh look in Helen's eyes. Solemnly, he grabbed the hilt and cut his hand till a little blood welled. Holding it over the sword until a few drops fell onto the blade, he intoned, "Blood to bind, steel to strengthen--by these, my oath is sealed." Helen nodded and re-sheathed her blade, seeming satisfied.
Finally Iolaus spoke up. "I hate to interrupt, but shouldn't we be getting back?"
Every eye focused on him. Swallowing hard, he muttered, "Just a suggestion..." to his surprise, Helen smiled slightly and nodded. "He's right…this way," she called over her shoulder as she set off through the forest.
The ride back was long, and Iolaus suspected that Helen was taking them the long way purposefully. Strangely, she seemed to avoid Guerny after her first emotional outburst. She walked in the front, and Iolaus walked beside her. He was amazed at how cool she could be...
Night was deepening, so Iola us was preoccupied simply with trying not to trip on the underbrush. But once, he did look up, intending to ask Helen how long until they arrived...and blinked in shock. Surely a trick of what little starlight there was, or maybe just his imagination...but for an instant, he could have sworn there were tears on that face. Almost absently, she brushed a hand across her face, and it was gone. When she spoke, there was not even a strain in her voice.
"Here we are, the west gate. Hi, there, open up, Tomas!" The last was directed to the face peering over the wall cautiously. Nodding uncertainly, he opened the gate, and the small procession marched in.
Tomas held a hurried conference of whispers with Helen. They appeared to argue, then Iola us heard, "You just get them to the inn. I'll warn the council." And then, she sped off. Iolaus blinked, he didn't think he'd have been able to keep up if he wanted to.
"She was always fast," murmured a voice behind him. Guerny, that was. Shaking his head, he proceeded on behind Tomas.
Iolaus was now bubbling with curiosity, but kept it in check. Why could he not have stuck to girls like Matilda...
By the time they reached the inn, the village was stirring like a stepped-on anthill. The common room seemed a center for activity. Hercules was there up and about, and apparently being consulted by the village council. Spying Iola us, he motioned him over. It wasn't until then that Iolaus spotted Helen, looking as though she'd been chewing rocks.
Hercules explained. "The council wants nothing to do with these men, and I can't say I blame them, but as I've been explaining, they can't just turn their backs..."
Helen piped up. "Just tend their wounded man and have them out as soon as possible. They're a danger."
Hercules looked at her, and then at Iolaus. Softly, he murmured, "You certainly know how to pick them."
The seemingly oldest council member spoke. "Helen, what you say is all very well, but Hercules speaks sense. It is our land, and we cannot turn our backs on it forever. Maybe if we had all united, the war would be over by now."
Helen sighed. "Bryn, you can fight if you want, but as I doubt one soldier will make a difference, I hope you'll have the decency to let me slip out quietly."
"How can you abandon us so casually? Helen, you can deny your blood, but we are your people, and you swore oaths to protect us! You cannot turn on us--
"Turn on you?" The fire was back. "Turn on you?? I never turned on the people, Bryn--the people turned on me!" her face flushed, and Iolaus considered taking a step back from the look in her eyes. "What debt do I owe you that wasn't paid when you slaughtered my family? Was it I who battered down the door to Lady Jessica's rooms and murdered her, along with her ten year old son?" Her voice was loud enough now for most of the room to hear. For every face that looked on in anger, two were bent in shame. "I suppose I turned on you when I fought back to back with my father's Swordmaster, and only one of us came out alive, thanks to your scheming behind my father's back?"
Dead silence. Iolaus thought that if it shattered, it might cut everyone there. A small pathway opened up as Helen made her way through the door and out into the night. A chill wind that blew in as the door slammed seemed to break the spell. Bryn took a deep breath and faced Guerny. "We will help you."
In the clash and mutter of the chaos that followed, Iolaus quickly slipped out behind Helen. Gazing up and down the street, he saw nothing...wait. That shadow over there...he silently moved to follow.
Either Helen was unaware of him, or didn't care. She strode out through the north gate, headed straight as an arrow out into the forest. Iola us was pressed to keep up, but he managed. After a good half hour's worth of walking, he felt rather than saw her stop. Slowing, he found himself on the edge of a clearing. In the center lay a mound that looked suspiciously like a grave, though long since covered in green. A large stone sat at it's head, and sitting with her back against it and her knees drawn to her chest, was Helen.
"Duncan..." The name sounded strange, as though being forcibly drug out of her. "For the love of the Gods, Duncan, tell me what to do …I swore an oath…but they broke it first!"
Iolaus felt a wave of sorrow for the woman before him. So delicate, she seemed now, like a lost child, crying out for a dead man to help her…in her other hand, he noticed, she held her sword.
"I don't deserve this sword, Duncan...I ran when I should have gone down fighting, back to back…"
It was too much for Iolaus. Stepping as softly as possible into the clearing, he knelt down very gently, full knowing that she might put a knife in his ribs before she recognized him. Hearing him, she looked up. Her wide green eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and her expression was that of total defeat. For any other woman he would have held out his arms, but he sensed that Helen wasn't the type to cry on anyone's shoulder. So he simply sat there, by her side, staring out into the night, offering nothing more than a comforting presence.
Finally, after a long stretch of quiet, he heard a soft voice, grave and devoid of its usual humor or sarcasm. "Thank you."
Iolaus nodded. "No problem," he replied just as quietly.
Helen seemed reluctant to walk back alone, so Iolaus accompanied her back to the village. He walked her to the back way of the inn in silence—he sensed her self pity, but this was hardly the time to shake her out of it, so he departed in peace.
"Where'd you follow her to?" asked Hercules the moment Iolaus stepped into their shared room.
"Oh, somewhere, thataway..." the blonde motioned vaguely in five directions at once.
"Mm-hmm. Thataway. Well, I hope she's worth it, buddy."
"She is. Don't you worry about that."
Hercules sighed. "Iolaus, the council intends to start preparing for battle tomorrow, and soldiers will be coming in not long after. From all I've heard, I'm convinced that these people need help. The 'rebel' army may not be much better than the other, but I get the impression it is, if only by a hair. I'll be staying. Helen will be leaving."
The implication was clear. Iolaus appreciated the fact that his friend was trying to let him down easy, but he wasn't going to leave things like this, not by a long shot. He heaved a sigh. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."
The next morning, Helen was in her rooms, still asleep. Amazingly, she did not appear to wake when he entered. He stood for a moment, simply staring at her face. Gods, he hated situations like this.
"Good morning, Iolaus."
He blinked. Her eyes remained firmly closed and she hadn't budged an inch, but she'd known he was there. He decided not to ask.
"Helen...Hercules and I are staying."
"And?" She finally opened her eyes, revealing breathtaking beauty and total nonchalance all in one look.
Iolaus shifted uncomfortably. "I thought...I guess I was wrong," he sighed as he turned to go.
"Wait."
Iolaus turned back slowly. Helen was sitting up, looking at him intently.
"I'll be staying here." She announced.
Iolaus grinned, but had to question the sudden change of heart. " Helen...why?"
Her face clouded. "Because I had some sense knocked into me last night...after you left. Guerny Halleck decided I needed to be reminded of my responsibilities." She shook her head at the frown on Iolaus' face and smiled faintly. "It wasn't that hard a knock. He just...reminded me of some old advice." Her face clouded again, but she seemed more determined. "You weren't wrong, by the way."
Iolaus smirked confidently. "I didn't think so."
Helen sniffed. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
Chuckling, the Hunter put on a weary air. "When will you women learn to stop resisting my charm--oof!"
He cut off as a well-aimed pillow struck him in the face.
Downstairs, Guerny was explaining the situation to the village council. "The king's army will be on our tail, and I think it's inevitable that they'll follow us straight here. Our army should be on it's way, but we need someone to warn them--any volunteers?
A few men stepped up. So did Helen. To Iolaus' surprise, Guerny immediately nodded to Helen. A murmur ran through the room, but Iolaus remembered how she'd run last night--she could handle it.
After a murmur of conversation, Helen nodded and hurried out of the inn. Iolaus remained with Hercules...to help plan defense.
Later that evening a young man who was on guard duty ran into the common room. "The army is here!" he gasped.
Hercules frowned. Helen had not returned, nor had the rebel army. Iolaus looked to Guerny, who simply nodded before giving the order to prepare for battle.
Just then the door slammed open. Helen stumbled in, breathing hard and most definitely looking like she'd run miles.
"On...their way..." she managed to force out between deep breaths. "They're...at Cauthon's...Pass."
Bryn gaped. "Girl, you're dreaming! Cauthon's Pass is nigh on 18 miles away!"
Helen straightened. "I ran...all the way...Bryn."
While Bryn did a fish imitation, Hercules questioned Helen. "What did they say? When can they get here?"
" 'We'll be there as soon as we can march, girl' " Helen dryly quoted. "As for when that is, who knows? They looked like they might make it by late tonight."
Hercules shook his head. "Not soon enough. It looks like we're on our own for this one."
The demi-god's companion silently agreed, but was interrupted when the ever-damned door opened yet again, to admit another man from guard duty. "They're approaching, and they have a battering ram!"
The next few hours were hectic. Between them, Hercules, Iolaus and Helen managed to forestall the battering ram--Iolaus was amazed what a few buckets of hot oil could do. But that soon proved to be a diversion: they were sweeping in at the east gate. Iolaus soon lost track of everything in the battle that followed. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of Hercules, but Helen was lost in the crowd.
As sunset fell, it was abruptly over. He stood, chest heaving, thanking his lucky stars that he was still alive. Seeking out Hercules, he found him by the small west gate, with a Healer. A moment of worry turned to horror as he realized that it wasn't his friend being tended, but Helen.
"...held the gate against reinforcements, by herself," Guerny was saying. "I don't know what would've happened if they'd come in from behind." He looked sorrowfully down at Helen. "Will she be all right?"
Iolaus dropped to his knees beside her. Peering into her face, he winced at the blood and focused instead on her features.
"She'll live," the healer was saying. "But she'll have a hard time breathing for a while...most of her ribs on one side were broken. Other than sword wounds...she should be fine."
The hunter nodded imperceptibly. Hercules looked down at his blonde partner with a look of shared sorrow: he knew what Iolaus was going through. A brief pinprick of light shone through the gloom, though, as Helen suddenly groaned, her eyelids fluttering open.
Her gaze vacillated for a minute, then focused on Iolaus.
"How'd it go?" Helen's voice was strained and close to breaking as the fractured ribs made themselves evident.
"Fine," Iolaus reassured her soothingly. "And the Rebel Army's almost here; they arrived sooner than we thought."
Helen merely nodded slightly, closing her eyes. Having dealt with some pretty hard knocks before, Iolaus had a pretty empathetic image of what she was going through. Standing, he turned to the Healer as the man began to speak.
"She's the worst wounded by far...I was too late for the rest." He sighed and continued wearily. "She can stay at my home, until she is a little better..." Noticing Iolaus seemed about to speak, he added, "And you may come visit her as often as you wish." Muttering wryly about crazy young ones, the healer called for a stretcher, which was promptly procured. Iolaus himself helped bear Helen to the healer's home.
Three days later, with the main battle damage either repaired or cleared, Iolaus drew a breath and paused to wipe the sweat off his brow. He and Hercules had been working almost non-stop to help the villagers rebuild, except for the few moments he was able to slip off and see Helen. Luckily, none of her numerous wounds had become infected, and she was supposed to be up and about sometime today.
"Having fun?"
Turning, Iolaus broke into a grin. Helen, an amused smile on her face, was leaning against a column with her arms folded as she watched him. As he grabbed a nearby cloth in an effort to remove the sweat and dust, Helen continued: "Actually, I think the village girls are having more fun—the site of a shirtless hero does tend to have an effect on them."
Chuckling, he assumed a similar pose. "Ah, but of course the mighty Helen is invincible to such things."
He was only slightly surprised when she hesitated. "Well. Let's just say it's a site that brings some less than chaste thoughts to mind."
He raised an eyebrow. "A better view could be arranged…"
Green eyes narrowed above a smirk. "Tempting…but you'd have to wash first."
Laughing, the Hunter grabbed his tattered vest and donned it. "Well, it's almost sunset, so I'm done here for now—I can get cleaned up and meet you somewhere in ten minutes."
"You're serious?" She sounded half incredulous, half anticipatory.
"Always."
Helen suddenly looked serious. "You'll be leaving as soon as the village is back on it's feet, won't you?"
The hunter dropped his grin and spoke seriously—she deserved a straight answer. "Yes."
So I'll understand if you turn me down, he thought to himself with regret.
Helen drew a breath, considering. After a few moments of studying the ground, she looked up.
"I'll be waiting at the inn."
"I'll be there." Filled with a rush of good spirits, Iolaus headed off to get cleaned up—he had a long night ahead of him.