Not this Way
The Northern Wastes were bleak. The vast, white, plains could isolate the most resolute hearts, whilst the constant icy blizzards wore down the strongest limbs and minds. Unrelenting and uncaring the wind and snow cleansed the landscape. Only the foolhardy ever spent time here.
"Remind me again," said Joxer, "why are we here?" He lounged by the entrance to the rancid hide tent, peering into the blizzards, his brow creased in concentration. He pushed his face too close to the skins and recoiled from the smell, dropping the flap. Furious flakes of snow forced their way in before the flap fell. Gabrielle weakly brushed her short golden hair clear of the snow and pulled her yellow cloak tighter. Joxer returned, still wrinkling his nose, and flopped down beside her. Looking up from the meager fire, he noticed her shivering in silence and, without thinking, removed his bearskin for her. He placed it gently around her shoulders and helped her pull it tight.
"It doesn't matter Joxer. We're here now, so let's try to make the best of it," Xena said. Her expression was surprisingly soft but her voice was firm and warranted no argument. She sat raised from the others on a stone covered in skins, polishing her sword. She stared intently at the shiny surface, which was now almost as polished as the day she had bought it. Four days of constant polishing would do that to a sword- even Xena's. The continuous motion served to keep her warm and stopped her thinking about their predicament.
Hercules removed the last piece of rabbit from the fading fire and handed it to Iolaus. The tired hunter looked up at him questioningly. The bigger man gestured for his friend to take the meat and, with a look, conveyed that he was sure. Iolaus ate the burnt rabbit hungrily.
"That's the last of the food," Hercules told everyone.
"Oh gweat," said Iolaus, pausing in mid chew, "uddenry I don fee ahl that hungwy," he added. Gabrielle laughed weakly, watching Iolaus's growing embarrassment. Her laugh turned into a hacking cough and Joxer reached around and gently patted her back until she quieted.
Silence fell across the five as they watched the fire's dying embers glowing weakly. Outside, the biting wind howled a death sentence. Gabrielle coughed again– an exclamation mark on the sentence. Hercules broke the claustrophobic silence:
"I'm sorry," he offered.
"It's not your fault," Xena objected but as she looked at the son of Zeus, weak from hunger and cold, she knew her words were no comfort. His normal solid demeanor was cracking and right now, he looked like a little Eskimo boy who needed his father. She leant forward and placed a motherly hand on his thigh. He simply looked down ashamed of both his weakness and his friends' predicament. Xena looked at Gabrielle, who understood at once and, with effort, shuffled across to Hercules. She smiled at him and kissed him gently on his forehead.
"We all chose to be here Hercules, Xena, me, Joxer and Iolaus, we're here because we love you and we would always come to help you, no matter what the danger." Hercules looked up to protest, to apologise again but Gabrielle met his deep eyes with a flash of challenge in hers. He backed down.
Iolaus smiled weakly at Hercules and Gabrielle. Remembered fears tightened their grip on his mind. Once before he had died, the nothing had taken his soul and blackness had consumed him. His chest rose and fell under his pelts, with shortened breath. He knew what the others did not: the face of death is an abyss. Stare into the abyss and you know what being alone really means.
Only Joxer noticed the hunter's fear. Joxer cast a sideways glance at his heroic friends, his large brown eyes seeing easily to their cores. Always, as if predestined, he had watched their bravery highlight his fears. Now, he quietly watched them, the warriors of legend and knew, this time, he should be afraid.
"We're going to die, aren't we?" Joxer asked.
Silence visited the tent again. Outside, relentless snow piled against the sides of the lonely tent. Darkness lifted from the landscape but day afforded no change in the endless blizzards.
Gabrielle's pale skin had a light bluish tint. Xena was cradling her, trying to keep her warm. The two women lay, sharing body heat, with only their heads showing outside fur blankets. Xena occasionally reached up and around to gently wipe cold sweat from Gabrielle's forehead. The warrior's face betrayed her concern, her brow furrowed deeply as she felt the smaller woman huddle into a tighter, fetal shape.
Iolaus, Hercules and Joxer sat across from the companions, all of them uselessly gathered around the long dead fire. Hercules stared at Gabrielle. He had first met her when she was barely more than a child and had watched her grow into a striking young woman. He remembered when she had helped him fight, to clear his name of murder. The thought that he would be responsible for extinguishing her light in this useless way haunted him. More than this though, was Iolaus. His best friend had a borrowed moment of life and no more. Hercules knew he had led him to his death again. Unbearable pain wracked his soul. Slowly he rose, ignoring the numbing cold in his limbs.
His deep soulful eyes scanned the tent. He was Hercules, son of Zeus. He had saved countless anonymous lives but now his closest friends were dying slowly right here and he could do nothing. In his whole life, he had always put personal quests ahead of love. He had fooled himself into thinking he was sacrificing for the greater good. He was wrong.
Gabrielle, still shivering, whispered something to Xena, who struggled to move Gabrielle around so she could face Hercules. Joxer, who had been rocking back and forth to keep warm and awake turned his eyes toward the big man. Iolaus though cast his eyes down, he could not bare to look at his tormented friend.
Hercules knew now that he had taken love and discarded it, stolen friendship and abused it. He told himself that they had a choice, to follow or not, but the truth is, they did not. Their friendship bound them to him. Now, they had followed him on a last wild, Gods forsaken quest. He would give his life over to Hera if he could do anything, something to give them a chance to live. Xena… Gabrielle, Joxer.
Hercules turned to Iolaus and knelt in front of him. The hunter smiled weakly but Hercules knew him too well to be fooled.
"It doesn't end like this Iolaus. I'll be back with help," the big man said softly. Iolaus frowned, not understanding. The he watched in horror as Hercules turned and ran from the tent.
Joxer started after Hercules, but found himself pulled back by Iolaus. His small hand gripped with surprising strength.
"No, let him go – he has to do something, he couldn't just sit and watch us die." Iolaus had read it all in Herc's face: an open book with large text.
"But he'll die out there," Joxer tried, pulling on Iolaus's icy grip.
"Maybe, but I've known Herc a long time, if anyone can make it, he will, we just have to hang on until he comes back."
Joxer and Iolaus turned to look at Xena and Gabrielle. The warrior was struggling to keep her friend awake. They just had to hang on.
Hercules stood in the blistering cold, facing an unbeatable foe. His spirit was snow blinded and tears of failure froze on his frost bitten face. At least the wastelands gently numbed him so that he could no longer feel his limbs. In a moment of fury, he tore off his skins and top, using his waning strength to throw them into the vicious wind. He stood naked from the waist up, a single futile act of defiance to an uncaring, white world. The wind tore into his flesh but he could no longer feel it. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone. The abyss smiled knowingly at him.
"Not this way," he yelled.
Night returned, bringing a murdering freeze as the bitter snow turned into a deadly blanket of ice.
Joxer slapped Gabrielle hard. Her green eyes lolled into consciousness again, focusing on Joxer and Xena staring down at her. Why wouldn't they leave her alone? She was tired. She was very tired. The warm darkness of sleep was so welcoming. Just ten minutes and she would be fine. In a final moment of wakefulness, she watched them both shiver. Why, were they cold? She smiled and closed her eyes. She loved them both.
Joxer slapped her hard, then again, and once more. He stopped, tired from the effort and gazed at his love through teary eyes. Gabrielle lay unresponsive, her face was blue with the cold, her chest still. Joxer collapsed beside her. The expended effort trying to keep Gabrielle awake was his last.
"I love her too," Xena whispered, lying down beside her friend, pulling the limp body closer. Xena began to drift to warmer places filled with the smell of her friend's hair. She bathed in the light of the golden sun shining above Gabrielle's head, illuminating her body covered in white flowers. Xena's soul meandered slowly through a forgiving landscape of acceptance. The land smiled at her and beckoned her home.
The three lay together, sprawled in the furs.
Iolaus pulled a skin from Gabrielle and wrapped it around Joxer. She had no need for it now but Joxer might live if Hercules returned with help soon. As for Xena, his ex-lover, she was just barely breathing, clinging desperately to her bard as she had for many years now. Iolaus's lips caressed Gabrielle's cold face gently as he kissed her goodbye. He pulled back as a single tear fell onto her, trickled down her cheek and finally stopped on Xena's limp hand.
Outside, winds howled a final legend, the last story.
The intense white filled Hercules's view. Shadows fell across his face from the towering pillars of cold marble as they stretched for the clouds. Vast steps, each a struggle to climb, ran into the mists of his vision.
Closing his eyes, he listened. The wind was gone, instead a voice drifted down from somewhere above him. He rose slowly and began to climb the marble steps. Gradually the life returned to his limbs, the strength of a dozen men filling his powerful muscles and restoring his battered spirit. He continued to walk, wiping water from his eyes until he could see. Even before his eyes could focus though, he spoke.
"You wouldn't even help me this time father."
"Son," Zeus shrugged, "what was I to do? I'm not allowed to interfere with mortals. Hera doesn't like it," finished the gravelly voice. Zeus watched his son climb the steps to Olympus and smiled to have him home at last. Hercules was less pleased. He regarded his father with disgust. The old fool lounged in luxury, surrounded by meats and rare wines from all around the world. Slouched on a golden throne, dressed in white samite, the King of the Gods enraged his son.
"You could still help them," he called, climbing inexorably upward.
"Hercules, my dear boy, you will learn, over time, that the affairs of mere mortals are not our problem. You are here on Olympus where you belong now. I pulled you out of your body just before you died so that you can live here and rule with me. A few moments longer and Hades would have had you." Zeus stood and helped his son over the last step, the two large men finally standing together.
"Then you won't help them?" Hercules persisted.
"It is not our place," Zeus said, returning to his throne somewhat annoyed at his son's ignorance. Hercules looked around at the Olympian opulence. Hunger gripped him and dragged him unwillingly to a table of food, his back to his father. He began to eat but quickly the food sickened him as he remembered Iolaus, cold and starving.
"Send me back," he said as last, turning.
"What?" Zeus's deep voice resonated between the pillars.
"I want to go back father, you owe me that much."
Zeus sighed, the boy had a stubborn streak like his brother. The old man assessed his son's eyes. They were hard, focused, determined. "You'll have minutes to live son. If I send you back you'll die. It won't help your friends, you'll never reach them."
"I'd rather die than live knowing I left them to suffer alone. I don't expect you to understand father, they never left me alone, I won't leave them now." Hercules folded his arms and stared at his father.
Silence filled Olympus. A heavy reverence watching the moment. One more story…
The blackness greeted Hercules. It was almost over for him. Everyone has their time and no more- one opportunity, one story then no more. When it ends, do not fight, flow with the current of death and the journey will be easy; swim upstream and the pain follows. Hercules brought his hand up to his mouth and swallowed a last morsel of food. He chewed, taste escaping his abilities. He pulled the frozen furs around himself and waited…
The rising sun revealed a natural, deadly beauty. Only the silent tent, resting in the peace left by the winds, broke the purity of the white painted plains. Inside, death filled the shelter and hung in the air, heavy with the spoils of victory. Iolaus sat, frozen, his chin resting forever more on his chest. He had lasted longest, his belief in Hercules giving him incredible strength. In the end though, he too had succumbed to the cold, just as his friends had a few hours earlier. Xena still clung to Gabrielle, a slight smile on her face. Joxer, in death as in life, lay at a respectful distance away from them both. Even now, his frozen face looked upward at Gabrielle, as if in supplication.
The flap to the tent opened and Hercules entered. For a moment he stopped, looking at Iolaus. Was he asleep? No, his face was blue, Iolaus was dead. It was strange, but seeing his blond friend like this reminded Hercules about the time Iolaus was purple from grapes. The memory made Hercules smile as he knelt and pushed a small piece of food into the mouths of Xena, Gabrielle and Joxer, jamming it down with two fingers until it was deep in their throats. He lingered just a moment at Xena. Once more he smiled and leant forward, kissing her full lips, her taste bringing him happy memories of brief trysts.
Now he moved over to the Iolaus and pulled the hunter's head upward, being careful not to hurt him. Once more he forced a small piece of food into the throat before picking Iolaus up and laying him gently next to Joxer. Hercules sat on Xena's rock and watched them all sleeping peacefully. Time slowed and he waited for what seemed an eternity. Patience is a rare talent in men of action.
Iolaus, who was the first to stir, groaned and coughed. Hercules moved to him and lifted his head gently.
"Herc? How?"
"Rest Iolaus," he answered firmly but lovingly. Then, so that his friend would be quiet, he added "Ambrosia". Iolaus closed his blue eyes, and drifted with the healing warmth of the magical Olympian food. Slowly the life-giving gift worked its miracles on the friends in the tent. Hercules cradled Iolaus, watching colour return to his life long companion, and as Gabrielle began to stir, the son of Zeus knew she would have one more legend to write about them.
"I thought I was going to die," breathed Iolaus.
"Not this way," Herc assured him, his voice carrying bitter defiance to an inhospitable world. "Not this way."