May 2003 Challenge: Write a story with the following line of opening dialogue…
"Assuming we get out of here, what are we going to do?"
Hercules' lips thinned at the whispered question as he looked away from the slightly teasing glint in Iolaus' eyes and scanned the banquet hall. To the casual glance, it would look little more than the usual celebration, packed as it was with silk-draped tables laden with succulent meats, varieties of vegetables, sauces and decorated with heavy silver candelabra. The guests though weren't elegantly dressed nobility but well-armed mercenaries, strong men in their prime, with hard eyes, scarred bodies and hands well calloused by years of work with sword, knife, bow and spear. The torches flaring in the wall-sconces filled the vast space with light, and certainly made the black-garbed guards stationed at every portal very visible.
The guards weren't there to hold the diners in the hall…they were there to ensure the 'guests of honour' didn't take a notion to slip away without a suitable leave-taking. His gaze shifting along the table on the raised dais, the table at which he and Iolaus were seated, Hercules gazed thoughtfully at the King and his Queen, frowning a little with empathy at their pallor and strained expressions as they picked at the rich foods placed before them, sick at the charade and badly frightened. For a moment, young King Peruides' eyes lifted to meet the demigod's with a dark, hopeless gaze. The man's jaw tightened, and for a moment, a look of apology swept over his features, but then it was gone, replaced by the expression of grim determination that had worn premature lines in his visage. And then, having nothing to say…what could be said, after all…the King looked away and reached for his goblet of wine, taking a long swallow, to dull the pain of despair and wash the bitter taste of fear from his mouth.
"Well?" hissed Iolaus, glancing furtively around the packed hall, and then down the table behind Herc's shoulder to rest a moment on Xaruethis, the ruthless, dark-haired and olive-skinned Warlord who had taken this castle and held the King and Queen to a grim ransom. The Warlord felt Iolaus' eyes upon him and looked around, black eyes flashing with arrogance as the vicious soldier smiled coldly with a taunting mockery and no little contempt. The blond warrior's blue eyes flattened as he returned the stare for a moment, then in disgust and fury broke it off as he cut a look back at Hercules.
"So, do you want to go fishing, or hunting, or just head up to Thebes to your mother's place or what?" Iolaus demanded of the unresponsive demigod beside him, though he kept his voice low, trying his best to lighten the mood just a little, given their relatively dire circumstances and what they had planned for later.
It never hurt to have positive plans for the future when one was in a potentially deadly situation…especially when the odds were this bad.
Herc knew what Iolaus was up to, that his best friend was trying to get him to relax a little. But the stakes were too high and, frankly, Hercules was a little too worried about the probability of any future, especially for Iolaus, to be distracted by humour.
Grinding his teeth with frustration, his eyes narrowed with anger, Hercules shook his head tightly. "You know as well as I do that we're not going anywhere until we rescue the child…"
"My job," Iolaus interjected, continuing the argument they'd begun in their chamber before being escorted to the hall for dinner.
"No!" Hercules grated, keeping his voice low, as was Iolaus, in an effort not to attract undue attention. "It's too dangerous…"
"Yes," insisted the warrior, pretending to be interested in his dinner as he broke up a thick slab of bread and dipped it into the dark gravy congealing on his pewter platter. "They're watching you more than me-once I get the kid away from danger, then you and the King can rally the good guys and boot these bastards out of the castle or into the dungeon, whichever you prefer."
"Iolaus…" the demigod intervened. "There're too many risks…there could be a bloodbath…"
"There'll be a war if this isn't stopped now, and you know it," Iolaus muttered back, dropping the mess of bread onto his plate and reaching for his wine. "Tonight, Herc, we have to stop this tonight. Tomorrow, they march on Mycenae."
"It's not much of a plan," Hercules sighed, thinking back to their earlier conversation.
"It's the only plan we've got," Iolaus insisted. "Trust me to do my part…and you do yours."
Swallowing, against his better judgment, Hercules nodded once, but then his eyes flashed to his friend's belligerent gaze. "Be careful…"
For a moment, the hard determined glare in Iolaus' eyes was muted by a flash of warm humour but his voice held the concern of one friend for another as he replied fervently, "You, too, buddy…remember to watch your back, okay?"
Hercules held his best friend's concerned gaze, and then nodded soberly before looking back out at the gathered assembly of heartless men who murdered for gain. Trust Iolaus to be worried about his back! Though he didn't turn his gaze back to Iolaus as he thought about who would have an army at his back, and who would be facing rotten odds alone, Hercules reached out to grip his friend's hand for a moment, not caring what anyone there might think of the gesture. His heart sinking, Hercules wondered if their desperate strategy had any hope of success as his thoughts drifted back to what had brought them to this disaster in the first place.
* * *
They had decided to stop by Naphthlion on their way back to Corinth at the end of a diplomatic mission they'd undertaken at Iphicles' request. The Spartans had been growing restless, not having had a good war to fight in several years. Knowing the tough, humourless people had a penchant for trusting the gods, Iphicles hadn't hesitated to call upon his half-brother to be the bearer of a new and improved treaty promising better terms of commerce between the City States of the Peloponnese. Since Iph had managed to obtain the endorsement of the Kings of Mycenae and Naphthlion to ensure the sweetness of the deal, and given that Hercules didn't want the Spartans on the march anymore than did anyone else, the demigod had agreed. Why the Spartans would be impressed with a demigod who was barely on speaking terms with his father, Hercules didn't know…but the fact that he was the son of Zeus seemed to impress them no end.
The mission had been successful, promising at least another year of peace and prosperity, and potentially a good many more years than that. On the way back north, they'd recalled the invitation Iph had relayed from King Peruides and his wife, Queen Lyrris, to stop in on their return and finally meet their first born, a son of whom the royal parents were inordinately proud. Prince Xander was almost three now, a bright laughing child by all accounts, as pretty as his mother and already showing signs of decided brilliance. Well, they'd discounted the exaggerations about the child's beauty and perspicacity as the ravings of delighted parents, but both men liked Per and Lyrris and had looked forward to seeing them and their no doubt charming, if not actually spoiled rotten, child.
But, as they'd made their way through the large, bustling village between the sea and the foot of the ancient and high volcanic escarpment, on which was perched the royal castle, they'd noticed an odd atmosphere in the town. Naphthlion was a busy port, with ships always plying in and out with all the trading goods anyone could imagine, from silks and spices, to holds full of lambs destined for distant markets, from kegs of wine and olives sealed in their oil, to fruits grown on the verdant hills or silver mined from the rich rock beneath. Carpets and shawls, rolls of linen and parchment, bales of wool and finely honed swords, knives and well crafted pottery. It was a thriving center of business, the port and market usually alive and boisterous with the shouts of the merchants and the vendors, thronging with customers and transient travelers.
And it was busy, if not exactly boisterous. There were still many ships in port…but none appeared to be leaving. Only arriving. And the market areas were still busy with merchants and those who came to buy their daily food…but there was a tension that was palpable, a kind of prickling in the air. Shouts seemed muted, and there was a noticeable absence of laughter…even of smiles. No one caught their eyes as gazes shifted away as often as not toward one of the soldiers that strolled about the town, but then the shifting gazes would flinch away from the glowering armed men, because, apparently, being occupied with a fascinating study of the ground, or of some goods in a booth, or whatever, was far more satisfying…and decidedly more safe.
"Something's not right here, Iolaus," Hercules murmured as he studied the busy market with a slight frown of puzzlement.
"No kidding," Iolaus muttered back. "Check out the insignia on the soldiers…"
Per kept a large standing army and a small but capable navy, as was prudent for a King who was responsible for the safety of a busy and rich port. So the demigod hadn't at first paid much attention to the armed men he'd noticed as they'd wandered through the town. But, now, alerted by Iolaus' observation, Hercules could plainly see that these warriors were not wearing Per's traditional symbol of a trident in honour of the seaside kingdom's patron god, Poseidon. These men were wearing a thunderbolt-Zeus' symbol.
"What the…?" Hercules muttered, now convinced something was badly wrong here. It might be his father's symbol, but Zeus wasn't in the habit of getting involved in petty human disputes and did not encourage his sign to be used in militaristic ways.
"Don't look too hard, son," a wisened old craftsman mumbled as he fussed over his wares in the stall beside them. "Best you just be on your way," the man whispered hoarsely, doing his best to give warning to innocents who were just passing through and might still be permitted to leave. He flashed them a quick look, disquiet in his eyes, but then he turned away, fearful of attracting the unwanted attention of the mercenaries who seemed to be everywhere…and who seemed to see everything.
"You've some fine wares," Iolaus observed, loudly enough to be taken for a customer as he tested the balance of a couple of the well-crafted hunting knives. "What's going on here?" he mumbled under his breath, while Hercules kept a wary eye out for the roaming soldiers and guardsmen.
"Trouble up in the castle," the old man muttered back, then more loudly added, "That'd be fifty dinars, lad," nodding to the knife Iolaus was holding.
The blond made a great show of admiring the weapon, but then shook his head regretfully, as he replied, "Too rich for me, I'm afraid." Picking up another, he hissed, "What kind of trouble?"
"Don't know," the man muttered as he observed more loudly, "That'n be even more, lad…but ye've a good eye for fine work."
"Uh huh," Iolaus grunted.
"Company's coming," Hercules observed mildly as two soldiers strode nearer, having noticed the strangers.
Moving away from the stall, Iolaus turned to join his friend. "Too expensive for what I can afford, but thanks anyway," he called to the merchant. The two heroes pretended to be unaware of being under scrutiny as they turned and ambled down toward the docks, but were very conscious that they were being followed.
Standing, looking out over the wide turquoise bay, Iolaus asked, "What do you think?"
"I think we need more information," his partner and best friend replied thoughtfully. "But I'm not sure we both need to go up to the castle to get it…"
"Yeah, right," Iolaus snorted. "And I'm supposed to what? Run off to Iph and say that I think something strange is going on in Naphthlion but I haven't got a clue as to what? Uh, uh, we both go see what's going on. If need be, one of us can stay to keep an eye on the situation while the other goes for help if it's needed."
Hercules shifted his stance to gaze up, far above them, toward the heights of the massive cliff behind the village. "It's not an easy place to get in or out of," he observed dryly. "Might not be a simple thing to leave."
"Are you kidding?" Iolaus chuckled wryly. "Provided Heph hasn't built the walls, I doubt they could hold you for long."
His gaze dropping to meet his partner's clear eyes, Hercules muttered, "It wasn't me I was thinking about."
"Then that makes it all the simpler to decide what to do," Iolaus cut back, unwilling to be seen as either vulnerable or a potential liability. "If there's trouble, then I'll stay to keep an eye on things and you'll go for help."
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Iolaus," Hercules murmured, conscious of the soldiers edging closer, coming within hearing distance to determine what they were talking about.
"If I had a dinar for every time you had a bad feeling," Iolaus mocked, "I could afford one of those fancy knives."
"And how many times have I been wrong?" the demigod demanded, smiling in spite of the knot of disquiet in his gut.
"Well…that's why I don't have the dinars, isn't it?" Iolaus laughed. "But it's always been interesting, hanging around with you, I mean. At least, with those handy 'bad feelings', we are forewarned…"
"And forearmed. Yeah, so you're always saying," Hercules replied dryly, hoping that this time would prove no exception. But the numbers of mercenaries he'd seen hanging around the market and the port worried him. They could handle a lot, he and Iolaus, but taking on a whole army was stretch, even for them.
"So we're agreed," Iolaus observed, and then continued more loudly before Hercules could dispute that fact, also very conscious of the soldiers now close enough to listen in to their conversation, "I guess we should head up to see Per and Lyrris. I'm hungry…and as I recall, they keep a good kitchen!"
The loitering soldiers exchanged quick looks and dropped back a couple of steps, thinking they'd not yet been noticed, and then slipped in behind the two strangers to follow them up the steep, narrow but busy road along the side of the mountain to the castle's gates high above.
* * *
Soldiers wearing Per's colours and insignia were on the gate, but they seemed subdued, even nervous, as Hercules introduced himself and Iolaus, and asked to see the King. "He's expecting us," Iolaus added cheerfully for good measure as he cut a look back at the two mercenaries who'd followed them up the incline. A flash of hope lit the guard's eyes, but then it was swiftly muted as the man nodded and turned as he said, "Follow me."
They were briskly led across the bustling courtyard, weaving through and around warriors wearing either the blue and trident of Per's army or the black and thunderbolt of the mercenaries and then up the steps carved of stone into the imposing castle. Moments later, a servant had been sent to alert the King that he had visitors, and only minutes after that, Peruides was striding down the sweeping wooden staircase to greet them. While they'd waited, the two heroes had been conscious of the hard, curious scrutiny given them by the dozens of black-clad mercenaries who milled around the spacious hall, or strode in and out of the castle.
"My friends," Per called, affecting an air of pleased surprise, but his tone and smile both seemed forced. "I wasn't certain that you'd have time to accept our invitation. How did your mission in Sparta proceed?"
"As hoped," Hercules called back, smiling in his turn, "they signed the treaty." But when Per joined them, and held out his arm in greeting, the demigod murmured quietly as he gripped Per's forearm, "Who are the men in black?"
"I'll explain later," Per muttered hastily, keeping the frozen smile in place. "Come! Lyrris will be glad to see you," he said more loudly and they took the hint. No talking where unwanted and untrusted ears could hear.
Something was very wrong when a King could not speak freely in his own castle.
Per slapped Iolaus on the shoulder in a friendly manner and then turned to lead the way deep into the castle, down dim halls of stone lit by torches on the walls, passing again more mercenaries on the way. The King ignored the interlopers, his face now stony with a grim control. Finally, they reached the Queen's quarters and entered her solar, Per firmly closing the thick oaken door and locking it behind them.
"Per, what in Tartarus is going on here?" Hercules demanded, but the King's reply was cut off as Lyrris came into the elegant room.
"Oh, thank the gods!" she cried, seeing them, and rushing forward to hug each of them in turn.
"Lyri," Per murmured, as he pulled her gently to his side, one arm circled around her, "they won't be able to help…"
"Help what?" Iolaus asked, frowning in concern at the tears glistening on the Queen's dark lashes. It bothered Iolaus to see any woman so distraught, but Lyrris' strong resemblance to his lost Ania made his heart ache to see such desolate grief and fear in her eyes.
"I think you'd better sit down," Per replied somberly, waving toward the comfortable chairs of wood and leather. "I wish…I wish we didn't need your help so badly."
Mystified, beginning to feel alarmed by the fear in Lyri's eyes and the despair in Per's voice, they chose their seats and looked attentively at the King.
"Just tell us what's wrong," Hercules encouraged gently.
"A week ago, a maid servant tasked with watching over our son, Xander, compromised the castle's security by letting down ropes on the cliff side that's not so well guarded. In our arrogance, we never considered an enemy within and the rock is unscaleable without such treasonous assistance," Per began as he led his wife to a couch and sat down beside her, his arm still supporting her. "Turns out, she's the lover of a Warlord anxious to make his mark by taking over the kingdoms of the northeastern Peloponnese, beginning with us, then moving to Mycenae and then Corinth. After that, he plans to conquer the rest of Greece, one city at a time."
"What?" exclaimed Iolaus. "But, surely your own guards and army could have withstood such an assault?"
"Perhaps, all things being equal," Per sighed, while Lyri began to cry again, quietly. Stroking her back, he shook his head as he continued, "The servant led them first to the nursery…they hold Xander hostage to my cooperation. If I resist, or fail to order my own army to assist in this war, they will kill our son."
Hercules sagged a little, understanding why Per had surrendered without any resistance. "Where is Xander now?" he asked, and then added, though clearly with regret, "And how do you know he's even still alive?"
"They are holding him in the nursery, still," Per replied wearily. "They allow us to see him once a day, in the evening so that we can put him to bed."
"How many guards watch the boy?" Iolaus demanded.
"Three outside the door," Lyri answered, a tear streaking down her cheek. Sniffing, she went on, "And the maidservant, and two more guards inside. Not many, I suppose, but more than enough to slit my son's throat if any attempt to rescue him is made."
"Right," Iolaus muttered, his lips thin, and then he turned to Hercules, a speculative look in his eyes.
The demigod knew what his friend was thinking. They had all the information they could possibly need about what was going on…now all they needed to do was figure out what to do about it.
"Who is this warlord?" Hercules asked.
"His name is Xaruethis," Per answered, his eyes dark with impotent anger. "He fancies himself the new King of Greece."
"King of the kings, eh," Iolaus snorted as he shook his head. "Well, I guess that explains the thunderbolt insignia…talk about delusions of grandeur."
"Can you help us?" Lyri begged, knowing the request unreasonable, even hopeless, but having nowhere else to turn.
The two heroes exchanged glances, and then Hercules turned to their royal friends, "We'll do our best," he said. "Tell us more about this Xaruethis and what's happening in the castle."
"And…tell us about the castle," Iolaus suggested. "Per, didn't you once say you used to play in ancient, hidden tunnels when you were a kid?"
* * *
They'd less than an hour to exchange information and craft the outline of a desperate plan, but it would have to be enough for a sharp, heavy thumping on the door signaled that their moments of privacy were at an end. Per rose to unlock the door and opened it wide to allow Xaruethis entry, furious that this Warlord could command him, even in the sanctuary of his wife's quarters.
"I heard that friends had come to visit," the tall, heavily muscled man in his prime said in a loud, falsely jovial voice.
Hercules and Iolaus rose to their feet as the imposing man, garbed in black leather and silver, pushed past Per to enter the room. They cut each other a quick glance before turning faces schooled to mild expressions toward the man, but the glances had shared their contempt for his appearance.
Xaruethis may have purloined Zeus' insignia…but he had consciously assumed the appearance of Ares, mimicking the God of War in manner and style. 'Pathetic,' Iolaus thought, unimpressed.
"I am Xaruethis, soon to be King of Greece," the big man asserted as he strode across the room to meet the two strangers. "And I hear you are Hercules, Son of Zeus. We are well met."
Ignoring the arm thrust toward him in greeting, Hercules nodded as if a trifle bored and tipped his head toward Iolaus as he introduced his best friend. "Xaruethis," he said dryly, "this is my partner, Iolaus."
The look Xaruethis gave Iolaus was insulting. Clearly, the big man had little respect for those of slighter stature and his interpretation of the introduction left little to the imagination. "A little old, perhaps, but pretty enough, I suppose," he muttered slyly before turning his attention back upon the demigod.
Iolaus rolled his eyes but held back any other reaction, knowing as he did that Xaruethis' contempt for him could serve their ends well. Hercules had a harder time of it, flushing in anger, but a light touch on his back by Iolaus kept the fury in check.
"Well, I suppose Peruides has told you of our alliance," Xaruethis continued to Hercules. "And the basis for it," the Warlord added with a hard, meaningful look. When Hercules nodded, he went on, "Good, then you'll understand why I can't allow you to leave the castle. I can appreciate that your relationship with the King of Corinth might lead you to wish to give him fair warning of an attack, but such warning would ruin my plans. Since I haven't chains forged by Hephaestus with which to bind you, I'll bind you with a promise, instead. I promise you that if you cause any trouble whatsoever, the Prince will be summarily killed. Is that clear?"
"Very clear," Hercules replied, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing with anger.
"Good," Xaruethis nodded, and then turned to leer down at Iolaus. "And, for good measure, let me add that any intransigence on the part of the demigod will result in your sudden, and painful, demise."
Iolaus stared up at the imposing, threatening man, and was hard-pressed not to stick out his tongue to show what he thought of the threat. Instead, he contented himself with a slight shiver, as if afraid, and he moved a little into Hercules' shadow, thereby reinforcing the Warlord's contemptuous, and quite erroneous, assessment of their friendship.
It was all Hercules could do not to laugh at his partner's shenanigans. But that would have given the game away. Unwittingly, Xaruethis had just given them a decided advantage…and they needed every advantage they could get.
"Come," Xaruethis ordered Hercules, "I'll have you shown to your chamber. Once we march on Mycenae tomorrow, you'll come with us, so that I can keep an eye on you…and your 'partner'. Peruides and Lyrris, I will, of course, see you at dinner…I've ordered a feast in honour of our alliance and to celebrate our coming victories."
The royals gave him a stony look, but nodded mutely. Any other reaction would have alerted the vicious Warlord that perhaps their 'alliance' was about to crumble.
* * *
"This could work!" Iolaus insisted as he paced the stone-flagged chamber. "Per's men can take these bozos in anything resembling a fair fight!"
"Iolaus…first you'd have to take out five guards and a treacherous maid before even one of them can get to Xander," Hercules sighed, not liking the odds. "If even one of them threatens to kill the boy, you'll surrender…and be summarily killed…and we'd be no further ahead."
"Herc, once they march and we're away from the castle, we'll have lost the chance to remove the threat to the Prince," Iolaus argued back. "We can't go after the kid together, you know that. They'll be watching you too closely. But they've written me off. They won't expect me to be any kind of threat to their plans. I can do this."
Hercules shook his head, unconvinced but aware they had few other choices.
"Look, I'll make like I'm drunk and whine about wanting to see the boy. As we discussed with Per and Lyri, Per will offer to let me go in his place to maintain some measure of peace. And then, well, I'll see how to play it out once I'm at the nursery. Once I've got Xander, I'll take him down into the old tunnels to meet up with you guys below the castle, where the tunnels open to the sea. As soon as she knows Xander is safely away, Lyri will send word back to the hall that she has retired for the night, as the signal that all is going according to plan, and then go to her chambers and lock herself in. Per will have gotten word out to his own men to be ready to act once the banquet is over, just like we agreed before our king wannabe arrived to break up our reunion. You'll be in more danger than I will…you'll be in the middle of the battle!" Iolaus pointed out, clearly not any happier about that than Hercules was about him facing a handful of guards. "You know we have no choice, Herc. We have to do this."
Pushing his fingers through his hair, Hercules sighed. "I know…I just don't like it."
"Yeah, I know," Iolaus grinned cheekily, "those damned 'bad feelings', right?"
"Right," Herc agreed unhappily.
"Just watch your back, Herc…you know how much I worry when I'm not there to look out for you," Iolaus only half-teased, knowing that the demigod was worried about him, and when he was worried, Hercules could forget to watch out for himself.
"I will," the demigod agreed, entering into the banter, grateful for it.
"Promise," Iolaus cajoled, lifting one brow as he grinned up at his best friend.
"Yeah, I promise," Hercules laughed and slung his arm around his best friend's shoulders as they moved to the door of their chamber.
It was time to go out to face the lions.
* * *
The crash of Iolaus' goblet onto the table, spilling rich ruby wine like a splatter of blood onto the pristine white linen, and his partner's whiny curse, pulled Hercules back from his memories.
It had begun.
"By the gods," Iolaus shouted, his words slurred, "can' a man ge' a decen' goblet of wine? Is't too mush to ask? Hey, you're no' even drinkin' yours!" he cried with delight as he lunged forward to scoop up Hercules' goblet, draining it greedily.
"Iolaus, slow down!" Hercules ordered, alarmed. It was one thing to play a drunk, another to actually be drunk, just before a dangerous fight.
"Ah, don' worry so mush, big guy!" Iolaus retorted, and then gave Hercules a loopy grin…but his eyes were clear and bright with humour. "'S jus' a goble'…naw a lot. Yoo know," hick, "yoo know 'ow mush I c'n hannel." Turning around, seeking a waiter, Iolaus thumped the now empty goblet on the table, "MORE WINE! I WAN' MORE WINE!"
"Iolaus, shh, you're causing a scene!" Hercules ordered as he entered into the charade, ineffectually trying to calm and quieten his evidently embarrassingly drunk partner. His tone was sharp, and he knew it…and the sharpness was only half-feigned. The demigod was worried and wished there was some other way, but there wasn't.
"Don' 'shh' me!" Iolaus protested with the painful dignity of the very drunk, aware that they had gotten the attention of everyone in the hall. Time to make the play. "Yoo're always shooshing me! Li' yoo're embar…embarrass'd," hick, "abou' me! I jus' wanna li'l more wine, big guy!" Giggle. "An'…an' den I wan' to see Xan'er. Such a beaUtifoool chil'! Why can' I see Xan'er, Hercooleees? Pleeeese? Can' I see Xan'er?"
"Iolaus, enough!" Hercules almost roared, pretending to be beside himself with humiliation. "Just be quiet!"
"Ah, 'erc!" Iolaus sniffed, now heartbroken, tears welling in his wide, wounded gaze. "Yoo're ma' a' me? Whad'd I doo? Don' you wanna hol' my han' no more?" Even in the midst of such danger, the humour in the blond warrior's eyes was wicked as he teased his friend for having gripped his hand earlier in a paroxysm of wordless worry.
The humour steadied Hercules and he gave a short nod of acknowledgement. Teasing back, well, sort of, Herc reached to once again cover Iolaus' hand with his larger one. Startled, the older warrior blinked, and then smiled brightly, understanding the message, accepting it with a nod of his own.
Be careful. Be safe.
Xaruethis laughed with a snide cruelty, enjoying the spectacle of the demigod's flustered embarrassment and public demonstration of affection for his precious drunken partner. Before Per could suggest that Lyri take Iolaus along to the nursery to ostensibly just get him out of the hall before Hercules was embarrassed further, the Warlord smirked and nudged Lyri. Intending to hurt Peruides by denying him the right to see his son on the eve of their departure, the Warlord loudly suggested, "Queen Lyrris, why don't you take our guest to see Xander? I'm certain Per won't mind not seeing his son just this one time? Will you Per?"
The King bristled, understanding the cruelty that was meant, but he pretended to swallow his wrath, and nodded stiffly. "Yes, fine. And Iolaus can then be shown to his chamber," he agreed with ill grace, though he turned to his wife with a softer expression as he murmured, "Take Iolaus, my dear…let him see Xander. It's for the best…"
She didn't have to hide her nervousness or distress as she rose from the table. Xaruethis was well aware of his effect upon her and would have been surprised if she'd taken this suggestion with any measure of calm. She shivered as he stroked her arm lasciviously and pulled sharply away without looking at him.
"Iolaus," she invited quietly as she made her way down the table and touched his shoulder, "come with me and you may see Xander."
"I c'n!" the blond warrior chimed happily, stumbling to his feet and patting Hercules' arm as he turned away. "I c'n see Xan'er, 'erc! Izzn't great! See yoo la'er, big guy!" Iolaus added lasciviously with an exaggerated wink at Hercules for Xaruethis' benefit, and almost burst into laughter at the Warlord's expression of disgust, not to mention the embarrassed flush that had crept up his partner's face.
A guard took Iolaus' arm to steady him as they followed behind the Queen as she swept from the hall. Hercules watched them go, and tried to smile as Iolaus cast him a blearily happy look over his shoulder and waved drunkenly as the guard drew him through the portal…but anxiety twisted in the demigod's gut, and he could only nod, his eyes begging his partner to be careful.
* * *
Iolaus leaned heavily on the guard's arm as he was hustled along through the castle, practically making the surly soldier drag him up the numerous flights of stairs, all the while keeping up a loud, drunken monologue that disarmed his escort and even had the fellow chuckling at one point. Lyrris kept up the pace, moving swiftly through the halls, wanting this to be done now that it was started.
The Queen was terrified. She knew they had few options, and she trusted Iolaus, trusted his skill. But it was her child's life that was threatened, that would be at risk if they should fail. Her only, beloved child. It didn't really occur to her that if his gambit failed, it would be Iolaus who would be summarily executed, not the child, who was still needed as a hostage to ensure Per's cooperation.
The guards outside the nursery had heard them coming from a long way off, courtesy of Iolaus' drunken clamour. Half disgusted, half amused, they unlocked the wide wooden door and allowed Iolaus' escort to haul him inside behind Lyrris. Iolaus rolled his eyes, realizing that he'd played his part so well that now he had three guards inside as well as out to deal with…not to mention the maid.
As he entered the room in the grip of his guard, Iolaus made enough of a scene to distract the other guards and the maid long enough for Lyrris to slip into the inner chamber and quietly close the door, barricading it with a chair. Before anyone had even noticed what she'd done, the door to the corridor behind him had been closed and the drunk turned into a whirlwind of silent, concentrated motion.
Pretending to stumble into his guard, Iolaus simultaneously tripped the over-confident man and brought his own head up hard under the guy's jaw, snapping the mercenary's head up ruthlessly as the man fell, the combined forces snapping his neck. Iolaus seemed to be stumbling and falling with him, continuing the charade that had confused the others and slowed their reactions, but he rolled swiftly away from the dead man, barreling into the other two guards. As they stumbled, he surged up, clipping one hard on the back of his neck with a sharp, hard elbow, knocking him out, and then whirling to kick the other soundly in the head, sending him silently to the ground as well.
The maid was no faint-hearted damsel given to screaming. She was Xaruethis' mate, ruthless in her own right, and had whipped out the blade she kept ready to kill the child when the time came to do so. There was little room in the small antechamber for Iolaus to completely avoid her lunging attack, but he swiveled to the side, and bit his lip to keep from crying out as his fist came up hard against her jaw. She dropped like a stone, a look of surprise on her face that he had attacked her. Gritting his teeth, one hand pressed against his side, he shook out his fist, reflecting that he'd been taught never to hit a lady…but then, she was no lady.
Moving to the door of the inner chamber, he tapped lightly and kept his voice low as he called, "Lyri, it's okay…open up."
He heard the sound of a chair being dragged away, and then the door opened cautiously to reveal her pale, frightened face. When she saw that he alone was still standing, that the others had all been dealt with, her eyes widened in amazement at how swiftly and silently it had been done. Opening the door more widely, she reached down to stroke Xander's dark cap of hair. "It's all right, sweetie," she murmured. "Iolaus is our friend."
The small child looked up from the region of her knees, where he was holding onto her skirt with two tiny clenched fists. Wide, dark, heavily lashed eyes, regarded Iolaus solemnly, but the boy smiled tentatively when Iolaus grinned down at him.
However, they weren't free yet. There were still the guards outside to get passed.
Returning his gaze to Lyri's eyes, Iolaus whispered, "I need you to go out into the hall, and begin to walk away, all haughty, you know, like the Queen you are." He grinned to take the sting from the words. "They'll be focused on you and I can take them from behind, by surprise. Then we'll get Xander out of here. Okay?"
She nodded stiffly, still very frightened, but determined to do what she could to help. Kneeling briefly, she put a finger gently upon Xander's lips. "You must be very quiet, my love. And very brave, like a soldier, all right? We'll have you out of here and safe soon, I promise."
He nodded, too overwhelmed by what was happening to speak…in awe at the sight of the bodies already littering the floor of the anteroom. She hugged him, then stepped away, past Iolaus, skirting the bodies of the dead and unconscious enemy to open the door and slip out of it quickly, not quite closing it as she boldly strode away.
"Lady! Where's your fri…" one of the guards called out, but never had the chance to finish his words. A heavy chalice crashed down on his head and then Iolaus barreled into the other two, knocking them into one another as he spun, bringing up his foot to kick them one after the other in a single smooth, hard motion, dropping them to the ground before they'd quite realized what was happening.
Lyrris whirled back, and saw Iolaus stagger out of his spin, lurching against the wall for support as he bit back a groan and pressed a hand to his side. Her eyes widened as she saw the blood under his vest, and the chalky pallor of his face.
"You've been wounded!" she hissed, moving quickly to his side to give him some support.
"Just a scratch," he muttered, lying. "Come on, we've got to get Xander away from here before anyone else shows up." Bending, he grabbed one of the guards by the arms to haul him inside the antechamber. In less than a minute, with her help, all three were inside, out of sight of any casual passers-by.
She then turned and gathered her son into her arms. Iolaus checked the hall, and motioned her to follow him out. He swiftly locked the door and then turned to lead the way along the corridor to a cul-de-sac at the end. There, behind a tapestry, was a secret entrance into the ancient volcanic tunnels that wound through the cliff beneath the castle. Following Per's earlier instructions, he pressed on one of the mortared bricks and pushed the entrance open, and then turned to Lyri, his arms wide to take the child.
"You have to go with Uncle Iolaus and do everything he tells you," Lyrris murmured urgently to her son, knowing that he must be very afraid. "I promise, Daddy and I will see you soon! Be good! All right?"
"Yes, Mama," the child whispered, though he looked like he might cry.
"Don't worry, Lyri, Xander and I will be just fine, won't we, Xander?" Iolaus crooned as he took the child and held him close. Pulling a torch from the wall, Iolaus gave the Queen a bright smile as he said, "Send the message so they'll know all is well…and then get yourself to safety!"
"Thank you, Iolaus," she sighed, blinking back tears of relief to know her child was finally safe. "Thank you."
He nodded encouragingly as he took a step back, waiting in the darkness to watch her push the mortared square to close the portal now that they were inside the tunnel. Lyrris let the tapestry fall back to hide the secret passageway and took a deep breath to steady her nerves…whatever else happened this night, Xander was away and safe. Turning, she strode quickly back through the halls. Once she was close to her own chambers, she flagged down a guard, one of the Warlord's men, and asked him to inform her husband, who was still in the dining hall, that she had retired for the night. Turning to enter her own suite of rooms, she caught the eye of one of her husband's men, who was loitering further along the hallway. Nodding tightly, she disappeared from sight.
The soldier dressed in blue and wearing the trident insignia turned swiftly on his heel, almost loping down the corridor to inform General Dromus that the battle for control of the castle could begin as soon as the King was clear of the hall.
* * *
With the wound in his side, Iolaus found it difficult to carry both the boy and the torch. Slipping to his knees, he set Xander on his own two feet.
"Xander," he asked quietly as he knelt by the boy, "do you think you could walk beside me, holding onto my leg, maybe?"
"Yes," the solemn lad replied, "I could do that, Uncle Iolaus."
"Good lad," Iolaus rewarded him with a grin, ruffling his hair. "I guess all this must be pretty scary, eh?
His eyes shifting away, the little boy nodded. "They were bad people…they wouldn't let me out of my room, and Mama was always almost crying when she came to see me every night… and Da looked like he was mad and sad at the same time," he murmured softly. "I guess…I guess it's a good thing you killed them."
But his voice was drawn and his face pale. Little Xander hadn't seen anyone die before.
"Whoa," Iolaus murmured, gently gripping the lad's shoulder, "They weren't dead, you know, just knocked out. Well, I suppose one of them was dead, but I don't like killing anyone unless I have absolutely no choice. It's not right to kill except to protect your own life or the lives of people you care about…but they threatened to hurt you. Your mother and father, and my best friend Hercules and I, couldn't let them do that."
Xander returned his gaze to Iolaus' eyes, relieved somehow by his words. Sighing, he nodded. "Thank you for helping me," he said quietly, but with a solemn dignity.
Grinning, Iolaus ruffled the boy's hair again as he stood, biting back a groan. "I'm glad to help you," he assured the lad. "And now we have to explore these tunnels and find the way to the sea. It'll be an adventure wandering through all these old passages…like heroes or pirates…right?"
The child was young, but not unobservant. Worried by the grimace of pain he saw streak across Iolaus' face, and recalling his mother's words back at the nursery, he asked, "Are you hurt bad?"
Shaking his head, Iolaus swallowed against the pain before he answered, "Not too bad. C'mon, we'd better be on our way."
Iolaus led off, holding the torch in front to light their way through the filthy, dark tunnel and grinned unconsciously at the death grip Xander had on his left leg. The kid had a lot of spunk and was holding up well, given how terrified he must be. Smiling a little to himself, Iolaus was prepared to admit that maybe Per and Lyri hadn't been exaggerating about how bright their little Crown Prince was. There could be no doubt that he was brave. But, at that thought, Iolaus' smile faded and he swallowed, wishing the world didn't require such courage from a kid no bigger than a mouse. This child should be laughing and playing games, not hiding for his life in the pitch-black catacombs under his home…led by a man he didn't even know.
The air was dank, with a tang of the sea and mold, the walls still hazardous with razor-sharp vestiges of the lava that had formed this catacomb. Though there were shorter, more direct routes, they were complicated, so Per had said to simply and always take the down-sloping branches when they came to junctions, and that eventually, they'd find their way to the tunnel that led out to the beach near the sea. Pressing his hand against his side, conscious of the deep, searing pain inside his chest and the fact that he was still losing blood, Iolaus wondered how long their journey would take. When they came to the first turn-off, he carefully explained to Xander why they must always take the branch that sloped downward, just in case…just in case the little boy had to find his own way out to the sea.
As they made their way through the darkness, Iolaus wondered what was happening in the castle above, and he sent a wordless prayer that Hercules would be all right…and would remember that he had no one watching his back.
* * *
When the messenger came to advise Xaruethis that Lyrris had returned to her chambers, Per turned his head away, as if unhappy that his wife had not returned to his side. Exchanging a quick glance with Hercules, taking the lead before the Warlord could think to ask what had become of the demigod's drunken partner, Per pushed his chair back and stood. "I find myself weary of this charade, Xaruethis, and of no appetite. I'm going to join my wife in her chamber."
"As you wish, Per," Xaruethis replied with a leer. "Make the most of it. Once we leave at dawn, you'll not be seeing her for a good long time."
There was a flash of cruelty in the Warlord's eyes that chilled Peruites and the young King knew then, as he'd suspected all along, that the vicious man's plan had included the murder of his wife and son as soon as his army was committed against Mycenae. Swallowing his sick horror at what might so easily have been their future, Per thought what a pleasure it would be to kill this monster.
A pleasure he anticipated enjoying very soon now.
Hercules stood to follow the King from the hall, putting himself between the young Royal and the Warlord who had also, unfortunately, decided to be immediately about other business. There was much to do, after all, to ensure their final readiness for the army's departure at dawn as they began the march against Mycenae.
They had hoped he'd remain behind when they left-it would have made things easier.
As soon as they'd cleared the portal from the hall, the massive doors were slammed shut behind them, trapping the majority of the Warlord's men inside. Even as this was being done, scores of Per's men were overwhelming the mercenaries who had been left on guard around the castle while their comrades ate and drank richly in the hall.
As the doors slammed closed, Hercules began to relax. The plan, such as it was, appeared to be working beautifully. With any luck, there would be a minimum of bloodshed and this 'coup' would soon be over. Trapped as they were in the hall, the mercenaries would have little choice but to surrender to Per's men.
"What the…?" Xareuthis exclaimed, aware of his men pounding on the now locked door that held them inside. He was initially shocked and then furious as he realized his intimidation tactics had ceased to be effective. Per's men surrounded them and now the King held the advantage.
"I'll see you dead for this!" the Warlord growled. "After you've watched your precious boy and your beautiful wife die…"
The look in the big man's eyes promised that he'd do more than simply kill Lyrris.
The outer hall was crowded with men, leaving little room to maneuver, and Hercules found himself still between the King and the Warlord. Per lunged forward, furious at the taunting and the threats, wanting nothing so much as to beat the Warlord into a bloody pulp for the way he'd threatened, and intimidated and frightened, Lyrris and little Xander…how he'd used them to try to force Per into a war against his allies.
The door behind them was being loudly battered from the inside as the mercenaries fought to escape their sudden, unexpected confinement. The joints began to give and the door was bulging toward them, on the verge of bursting open even as Per lunged toward the Warlord, wanting vengeance, forgetting the plan in his fury and desire for retribution. Instead of removing himself to safety behind the ranks of his soldiers as he'd agreed to do, his continued presence in front of the portal prohibited them from moving forward to contain the mercenaries in the dining hall.
But Xaruethis was neither a boastful nor cowardly man, easily given to surrender. On the contrary, he was vicious and deadly in his intent. By causing even so slight a diversion, he'd bought his men more time and he knew it. Further, the King's hotheaded reaction gave the Warlord an opportunity to either again take the young fool prisoner or kill him. His movement masked by Hercules' body, the Warlord pulled his dagger free of his belt, ready for Per's attack.
And suddenly what might have been a well-ordered and assured victory descended into chaos.
Hercules shifted his body to block Per's attack, knowing it was pointless and that the King was only being manipulated by the Warlord's taunting. Better to just get the dangerous man in chains and in the dungeon where he could do no further harm. His capture would dishearten the mercenaries, making them easier to subdue.
But, in moving forward to turn Per away from his anger and back toward the original plan, Hercules inadvertently put himself in the way of Xaruethis' blade…and the demigod gasped, going suddenly pale, as he felt the knife bite deeply into this back. With a guttural shout at the shock of the attack, Hercules pushed Per back into the arms of his own men, and was turning to face the Warlord just as the door from the dining hall burst open, enraged mercenaries shoving their way out in a tide of furious resistance, their knives and swords flashing.
Per's men moved to meet the bandits, and the antechamber was soon filled with grunting, struggling men, each one desperate to survive…to win.
Xaruethis cowered at the glare of rage in the demigod's eyes, and tried to push back out of his reach, but was blocked by his own men pouring out of the hall behind him, pushing and shoving him back into Hercules' reach. The enraged demigod, ignoring the pain of his wound, grabbed the Warlord by the shoulder then hauled off with a solid right jab straight into the villain's face. Xaruethis went limp in the demigod's grip and Hercules lifted him and threw him across the hall to hit the stone masonry with a resounding thwump before sliding into a crumpled heap upon the slate floor.
"IT'S OVER!" the demigod shouted above the melee, hoping to stop the orgy of death. "Xaruethis has fallen! Surrender!" he roared.
The sooner this fight for supremacy was done, the sooner they could find Iolaus and the young Prince in the tunnels.
There was no need for a hideous bloodbath, no need for countless men to be permanently injured or mortally wounded.
No need…but the fear of the mercenaries who were battling for their freedom.
No need…but the anger of the King's soldiers who wanted revenge for their humiliation and for the threat to their Prince.
No need…but for the urge of men to fight when their blood is hot and the battle is already engaged.
Heedless of his injury, Hercules continued to try to intervene, pushing away those who would attack him, slamming some into unconsciousness when he had no option. "Per!" he yelled, "Call off your men!"
But the young King had let loose his rage and was blind, and deaf, to reason.
The severity of the demigod's wound, and the steady loss of the blood pumping from his body, weakened him, slowed his reactions, caused him to stumble…and, with no one to watch his back in the confusing press of battling men, Hercules suffered two more serious wounds, a knife thrust into his side and a deep sword slash along one arm, before he staggered to the wall, still trying to stand, still trying to shout reason at the King and the men who might still command order.
But his voice was lost in the melee of screams, and shouts, and grunts and yells of pain, and anger and fear. Weakening, the world spinning around him, growing distant in the darkness, Hercules slumped down along the wall to the slate floor, unnoticed by those who fought on around him.
* * *
Iolaus was worried.
These dark, winding, tunnels were beginning to seem endless and he wondered if he was growing confused, perhaps wandering in circles or somehow stumbling deep into the bowels of the earth, having missed the tunnel that led to the open air and the sea. Though he was unable to move quickly with a small boy clinging to his leg, the warrior doubted he could have maintained any faster pace on his own. For sometime now, he'd been feeling light-headed, dizzy, and he was aware of the metallic taste in his mouth whenever he coughed.
Coughing.
Not good to think about coughing. Made him remember that he was trying not to cough. But his lung felt so full it was hard to breathe, and his throat felt clogged that he had to clear it…so he coughed, and the sharp, tearing pain in his side and chest drove him to his knees as he panted, sobbed, for breath. Couldn't quit. Not done yet. Had to get Xander out…
"Iolaus?" the boy's voice intruded and he became aware of Xander pulling on his arm. How did Xander come to be the one holding the torch? "Iolaus! Are you all right?"
"Fine," the warrior gasped. "Just give me…a minute," he panted, blinking to clear his eyes, wondering when the tunnel had become so hot.
"Iolaus…I'm scared," Xander whispered, trying hard not to cry. It was so dark, and Iolaus was getting worse. The boy could see the sticky blood reflecting the glow of the torch, a dark river that stained Iolaus' side and pantleg…and having soaked his boot, left crimson footprints behind them. Iolaus was breathing funny, and his eyes looked dazed. The boy wanted to help, but he didn't know what to do.
Swallowing the bile and blood in his throat, Iolaus focused on the kid and tried to look calm and reassuring. "It's okay," he grunted, forcing himself back up onto his feet. "It can't be too far now. We always take the downward path, remember…and when you hear the sea, you'll know…we're close to the way out. Go to…go to the opening of the tunnel…when we get there…and wait…wait until someone comes. Your father…or your mother…"
Afraid that Xander would burn himself, Iolaus took the heavy torch from the boy, and set off again, plodding ever more slowly down the long tunnels, determined not to quit until he could hear the sea ahead and know the boy was safe…
The ache in his chest became a perpetual sharp knifing pain that radiated through his whole body with each step, each panting breath. Iolaus knew he'd begun to stagger, so he walked more slowly still, conserving what energy he had, focusing on putting one boot in front of the other…one more step, and then another…
It was taking so long, too long…gods, it felt as if he'd been staggering through these tunnels for hours. Surely the battle above must be over and Hercules must be waiting for them at the tunnels' entrance near the sea…
Surely, it couldn't be much farther now…
Iolaus fell to his knees and had to fight the darkness that threatened to capture him. Aware that little Xander was standing close beside him, feeling the child shudder with fear and hearing the tiny, muffled sob, Iolaus pulled the boy to his side, murmuring weakly, "Don't…cry. We're…almost there. Just, just…give me…a minute."
Panting for breath, trying not to choke on the blood in the back of his throat, Iolaus pushed himself back up onto his feet and stood swaying, having to reach quickly to the wall for support. Schooling his breathing, willfully pushing back the pain, the warrior reflected he hadn't felt this bad since the Fire Enforcer had used him as a punching bag.
Not an encouraging thought.
Determinedly, he pushed away from the wall, again conscious of the lad holding onto his leg, as he staggered down the passage. The torch was burning low now, evidence of the hours they had spent beneath the earth. It couldn't be much farther. Gods, he hoped it wasn't much farther-he didn't have much left to give.
Finally, with a sob of relief, the warrior saw the lightening of the way ahead, and knew they must be nearing the entrance by the sea. "Almost there," he whispered, doing his best to give Xander an encouraging grin. "Won't be…long…now…."
But the awareness that dawn was breaking clutched at his gut, deepening his anxiety. Too many hours had passed. Someone should have been looking for them by now. Frightened for Hercules, Iolaus realized that the plan must have gone awry, and that a battle for the castle must have been required after all. It had been a long-shot, their plan to avert a bloodbath by trapping the vast majority of the mercenaries in the hall and, apparently, something had gone wrong. Driven by his fear for his friend, Iolaus managed to stagger a little more quickly toward the exit that couldn't be far away. Herc could be in trouble…he had to help…had to…
A few more steps and they'd reached the bend in the tunnel that allowed Iolaus to hear the pounding of the distant surf…or was it just the blood pounding in his ears? But, the light was real. He could see the mouth of the cave about fifty feet away, and knew they'd made it.
Dropping the torch, Iolaus managed a couple more steps before he staggered to his knees, felled by another coughing jag and its attendant burst of agony through his chest. Xander pressed against him, rubbing his back, trying not to look at the blood on Iolaus' lips.
"Come on, Iolaus…we're so close…" the boy begged, not wanting to leave the man who'd saved him behind in the darkness.
"S'okay," Iolaus gasped, giving Xander a brief, one-armed hug. "We made it," he sighed, relieved beyond words for the boy's sake. "Just…just go wait, by the entrance…for your parents…or my friend… Hercules…"
"You come, too," the boy insisted, trying ineffectually to pull Iolaus up to his feet.
But, much as he desperately wanted to carry on, even needed to push himself further to find Hercules and ensure the demigod was all right, the warrior was spent. Shaking his head, Iolaus explained despairingly, his voice little more than a murmur, "I need to rest…you go…keep watch for me…okay?"
Reluctant to leave Iolaus, but desperate to see his parents, believing they'd know what to do, Xander backed away, and then turned to scamper to the entrance, blinking in the bright light after the deep darkness of the eternal night inside the bowels of the mountain. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see that Iolaus was lying down now, resting.
Biting his lip, trying not to cry, Xander turned to keep watch, desperate to see his parents…anxiously waiting for help to arrive.
But there were only the endless waves, glinting silver in the pre-dawn light, rolling to the broad expanse of empty beach that stretched out as far as he could see between the mountain and the sea.
* * *
Finally, hours after it had begun, the bloody battle was finished, the last of the mercenaries throwing down their swords and calling for mercy. Per, having been sheltered and protected by his personal guard, had suffered only a single, slight gash along his sword arm. But he swayed with the exhaustion of spent emotion and the hours of fast and furious physical exertion that had, blessedly, finally, ended. A little stunned, his ears still ringing from the violent noise, Per looked around, noting with satisfaction that his closest, most valued men might be a bit battered but all still stood, and then his gaze swept the hall again, looking now for Hercules…
"MY LORD!" a soldier called from somewhere by the portal to the hall, nearly obscured by the pile of bodies around him as he knelt by the wall. "MY LORD! HERCULES HAS BEEN WOUNDED!" he shouted again, finally getting attention.
"What?" Per cried out, slogging his way through the muck of blood that flooded the slate floor, shoving bodies out of his way or stepping over them. "How badly?" the King demanded, as he got closer and could see the soldier supporting Hercules' head against his shoulder. Per was staggered by the unhealthy pallor of the deeply unconscious demigod, and alarmed by the sight of that broad chest heaving desperately for air.
"He looks bad, Sire," the soldier replied, his eyes dark with worry.
Per wasted no time, calling sharply for help to have Hercules borne away to his chamber to be cared for by the King's own physician. As the fog of confusion cleared from his mind, Per was troubled by the memories of Hercules calling to him, hours before, to end the madness. As he looked at the carnage around his feet, the young King shook his head, shocked now by what had happened. Lifting his eyes to the window embrasure, Per realized that the battle had raged for the whole of the night…and dawn was just now beginning to break in the eastern sky.
"Why didn't I listen to him?" he moaned to himself, knowing that this bloody outcome was his responsibility, and his alone. Sick, he wondered how many good men had lost their lives because he had lost his head, too eager for vengeance to remember and carry out the plan.
"Per?" Lyri called out, having dared venture from her chambers when the sound of fighting had subsided. She'd listened to the screams, and had cowered when she heard fighting beyond her locked doors, shivering in terrible fear throughout the whole of the night. When finally it had ended, she'd thrown open her door, gagging at the sight of the blood and the dead, but had raced through the long corridors, desperate to know if her husband had survived.
"Lyri!" the King called as he turned and took her into his arms, holding her close. "It's over, Lyri…it's over."
She wept with relief, but soon pulled back as she cried, "Xander! We've got to find Xander! Iolaus was hurt…I don't know if he would have been able to make it to the sea!"
* * *
The King and Queen, accompanied by a score of soldiers, raced down the steep road to the sleeping town below, marveling that the battle above had gone unremarked by those who sheltered in the cliff's shadow, and then out to the sandy shore toward the mouth of the cave, which was out of sight around a jutting headland.
Little Xander saw the crowd rushing toward him and called back to Iolaus, "Someone's coming!" When he received no response, the child raced back to his friend, and found Iolaus asleep. Touching his face, frowning a little at the heat under his fingers, the lad cried, "Wake up, Iolaus! Please-wake up!"
Iolaus groaned and blinked, and the boy called again, "Someone's coming!"
"Uhh, good," the warrior managed to mutter, trying to turn onto his side and giving up with a wince and a muffled groan. "Go see who it is, Xander," he sighed weakly. "Stay…stay in the shadows until you see your Mom or Dad…"
Frowning, the child ran back to the opening and peered down the beach. A moment later, his face crumpled in relief as he called back to Iolaus, "It's Mama and Da!" and then he was racing out to meet his parents, his little legs churning through the sand as fast as he could go.
"Xander!" Per called out, his chest tight with the relief of seeing his little boy safe. Running to the lad, then dropping to his knees in the sand, Per pulled his son close, unable to stop the tears of gratitude that blurred his eyes. "Oh, my son, my son…" he murmured.
"Da…I was so scared…" the lad murmured, clinging to his father, wretchedly happy to be safe in his arms.
Stroking the boy's hair, Per relinquished the child reluctantly to his wife's embrace. Looking up toward the mouth of the cave, Per asked, "Where's Iolaus?"
"He's hurt, Da…real bad," Xander replied, suddenly anxious again as he squirmed out of his mother's arms. Turning, the boy pointed to the cave, "He's inside…"
"Stay here," Per murmured to his wife, "and look after Xander." Turning, he waved to several of his men to accompany him to the cave.
Loping across the sand, and into the darkness, it took them only a moment to spot Iolaus. Moving swiftly to kneel beside him, Per anxiously checked out the wound and winced at its severity, even as he took note of the waves of heat rising from the fallen man's body. "Iolaus, can you hear me?" he called.
Moaning softly, Iolaus opened his eyes, and looked blearily around. "Herc?" he murmured.
"Hercules isn't here," Per replied obliquely, not willing to worry Iolaus with how badly the demigod had been wounded.
"Where?" the warrior breathed, struggling to rise…and failing with a bitten off whimper of pain. His exertions forced another racking cough, leaving him weak, blood bubbling on his lips.
"Hercules is back at the castle," Per replied, waving to his men for assistance. "We'll take you to him."
Iolaus frowned, struggling to hold onto consciousness. "Herc…hurt?" he demanded, his voice breathy.
"I'm sorry…yes," Per admitted as the men unrolled the blanket they'd brought as an impromptu stretcher in case it was needed as the Queen had said the warrior had been wounded.
"How…bad?" Iolaus grated, feeling fear grip his heart at the tone of despair in Per's voice.
"We'll take you to him," the King said again.
Iolaus swallowed, steeling himself for the transfer onto the blanket as men took hold of his limbs and body. The pain that arced through him as they lifted him, however gently, almost knocked him out but he ruthlessly held the darkness at bay. He had to get to Herc…had to know how badly Herc had been hurt.
* * *
It was almost an hour before the group finally made it back up to the castle and even then they only made it so quickly by taking the most direct, inside route through the tunnels. Iolaus drifted in a semi-conscious stupor, at times thinking he and Xander were still lost in the darkness, still struggling to find the way out.
But finally, they emerged into the upper hallway, shoving aside the tapestry and quickly carrying Iolaus to the chamber where Hercules had been taken. The King bellowed for the physician and for another bed to be set up alongside that of the demigod. His shouts roused Iolaus, who grimaced with the terrible pain that raged in his side and chest. But he again resolutely pushed it away, and took shallow, panting breaths as he held onto consciousness.
When they reached the room, the warrior ordered, his voice hoarse with effort, "Help me up!"
"Iolaus, you're hurt…" Per tried to dissuade him.
"Help Me UP!" the warrior grated again through gritted teeth, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing despite the fever and the pain that assailed him.
Sighing, the King and two of his men helped the determined warrior to stand and stumble toward the bed.
Iolaus looked down upon his unconscious friend, taking in the pallor, the bandages around Hercules' chest and arm, the raspy breathing…
"By the gods," he whispered, reaching out a hand shaking with weakness and fever to touch his friend's shoulder. "What happened?"
"He took two wounds from behind and another in his arm during the battle," Per replied quietly. "I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened…I lost my head and…didn't stop the battle as I should have."
"In his back?" Iolaus sighed, pressing his eyes closed. "Dammit…I told him…told him to watch…his back…" he rasped, devastated by the sense that he'd let Hercules down by not being there. It didn't help to understand that he'd had no choice…
Behind them, a second bed was being hastily assembled, wooden pieces jointed together and horsehair bindings in a frame laid across, and then a down-stuffed mattress laid over the support. Linen sheets were flung over the thick palliasse, and Per tried to pull Iolaus away, back toward the now ready bed.
But the warrior wasn't ready yet to leave his best friend's side. "How bad are the wounds," he panted, his breath short and painful.
"They were deep, and he lost a considerable amount of blood, I'm sorry to say," the physician replied, having just come into the chamber. "He hasn't awakened."
Iolaus swallowed hard, forcing back his fear. Leaning forward, he stroked Hercules' hair back from his brow. "Hey, Herc?" he called, trying to keep his voice steady. "You'll be okay, buddy…you hear…me? You need to…need to fight…Herc. Need to…get better. Sorry…sorry, I wasn't…there…"
Sick to his soul with worry over Hercules, the last of Iolaus' uncertain strength deserted him and he sagged in their arms, finally unable to stave off the darkness any longer…
* * *
For the rest of that day and all of the following night, the King, his Queen and several of their servants, along with the royal physician, battled to keep the two heroes alive. Tirelessly, they bathed the fevered bodies, applied poultices to infected wounds, changed soiled dressings and linen, forced water and tepid beef broth down unconscious throats, almost a drop at a time.
Per refused to leave the chamber, except to check his wounded men in the infirmary. They'd been lucky; it could have been worse. But twenty of his men had been killed in the madness of the preceding night, and a hundred more were sorely wounded. The mercenaries had faired worse, but that brought no comfort.
Lyrris came to him in the hour after midnight, to encourage him to get some rest. But the young King refused. He was devastated to know that these two brave men were at risk of dying because of his need of their help to save his family and kingdom. Iolaus' wound was hard enough to bear, though those risks had been accepted as necessary to save Xander. They had all known the odds the blond warrior would be facing alone.
But Hercules' wounds haunted the King, because those wounds shouldn't have happened-could so easily have been avoided. It was his fault, Per knew, his failure to remain calm and hold command that had allowed the bitter battle to be waged when it could easily have been averted.
In the hour before dawn, the young man was exhausted, having gone two full nights now with no sleep, not having slept much in the nights of the week preceding. They'd once again bathed the two warriors, and taken some hope that both fevers had finally broken, within minutes of one another, as if even in unconsciousness, the two heroes were somehow linked. The wounded men were freshly bandaged, but both were still deeply unconscious and Per feared for them…feared that neither might ever wake again.
Feared the anguish he'd face if one woke and the other did not.
Desolate, he checked again on Iolaus, murmuring as he brushed sweat-soaked curls back from the older man's brow, "Thank you for saving my son. I'll never be able to repay you for that…I wish…I wish you had not been so badly hurt…"
Turning then, he sank back down into the chair beside the demigod's bed, and covered Hercules' limp hand with his own as he leaned forward to say brokenly, "I'm so sorry, Hercules…I know this was all my doing…my failure." His voice cracked and he had to swallow the lump in his throat before he continued, "I promise you, I have learned from this wretched mistake…I'm just so sorry my learning had to be at such terrible cost…"
"The choices…of a King…are never easy," Hercules sighed, his voice barely a whisper.
But Per was jolted into full alertness and he lurched to his feet as he leaned over the demigod. "Hercules? Oh, thank the gods!" he blurted in his relief.
His lips crooking wryly at the heartfelt tribute to gods that hadn't likely helped at all, Hercules blinked, trying to pull himself to full consciousness and winced against the pain pulling in his back. "Iolaus?" he grated, his eyes darting around the chamber.
"He's in the next bed," Per replied soberly and then had to move quickly to push Hercules' shoulders back down to the bed, finding that even a weakened demigod was still a handful. "Easy, Hercules…" he counseled.
"How…bad?" Hercules gasped, gritting his teeth against the pain that shot through his body at his sudden effort to rise.
Knowing he was asking how badly Iolaus had been hurt, Per tried to sound reassuring as he replied, "He suffered a knife wound in his side, and it became infected…but his fever has broken and we hope he'll recover fully."
Hercules twisted his head to see Iolaus, and finally focused on his friend. Frowning, he concentrated on listening to Iolaus' laboured breathing, and was alarmed at how shallow and uneven it was. Again he struggled to rise, over-taxing his own meager reserves and fell back, cursing his inability to go to Iolaus, to care for him, even as the darkness once again descended upon him.
* * *
It was another day and night before even Hercules' god-given gift of healing quickly had allowed him to recover sufficiently to be helped up, so that he could sit by Iolaus' bed. The blond warrior had not yet awakened, and the physician was clearly very worried about him.
Hercules had had them place a chair close beside the bed, so that he could reach out with his good arm to touch Iolaus' face and could easily hold his hand. Brushing back the tumbling curls, deeply worried about his best friend's death-like pallor, Hercules called quietly, "Hey, c'mon buddy. You're starting to scare everyone. It's time to wake up, Iolaus…can you hear me? It's time to wake up, buddy."
But there was no response, just the continued rasping effort to breathe.
Sighing, Hercules eased back in the chair and covered Iolaus' hand with his own. "Don't quit on me, Iolaus," he whispered past the lump of fear in his throat. "Fight, Iolaus…fight!"
Later that afternoon, Xander came to the chamber, accompanied by his parents. They had wanted to spare him this, but the boy had begged, and finally had had given way to a tantrum, screaming that he wanted to see Iolaus, demanding that they show him that Iolaus wasn't dead. So they'd given in, and brought him.
Tentatively, the small boy walked up to the bed, eyeing Hercules warily.
"Hello, Xander," the demigod said with a soft smile. "I'm Hercules."
"Oh," the child replied, recognition coming into his eyes. "Iolaus told me about you. He said you're his best friend."
"That's right," Herc acknowledged. "And he's my best friend."
"He got hurt, saving me," Xander admitted then, his head bowed with the sorrow of guilt and grief too much for a child to bear…and with the shame of a Prince who'd needed rescuing.
Hercules stroked the child's hair and then pulled him close, lifting him onto his knee. Seeing tears on the boy's face, the demigod gently brushed them away as he murmured, "Shh, easy, son, this wasn't your fault, none of it. Iolaus wanted to help you…insisted, in fact, on being the one to get you away to safety."
Sniffing, the child looked up at Hercules with wide eyes. "Why?" he asked, finally voicing the question that he'd wondered about for days now. "Why would he help me? He didn't even know me…"
"He knew you needed help," Hercules explained with a smile. "Iolaus is a hero, Xander…he never worries about himself when someone needs his help."
The boy's expression was solemn as he thought about that. "I…I'll try to be a hero when I grow up," he whispered, his voice catching a little.
Hercules nodded soberly, accepting the vow. Brushing the lad's bangs back from his face, the demigod said, "I heard you stayed with him until help came…and that you sent your father and others to make sure he was taken care of as soon as you could. Thank you."
Sniffing, the young Prince brushed new tears from his eyes and twisted on Hercules' knee so that he could see Iolaus. For a long moment, the boy just stared at the man who had saved his life, and then he asked, his voice low, "Will he get better?"
"I hope so," Hercules replied with a heartfelt sigh.
Nodding, Xander patted the demigod's hand as he looked back into Hercules' eyes. "I hope so, too," he said.
* * *
Darkness had fallen an hour before, the chamber lit by the wavering flicker of many candles. Hercules maintained his vigil by Iolaus' bedside, unwilling to return to his own rest however much his wounds still ached. The physician had again changed Iolaus' dressing, pleased to see no further evidence of infection, and had left feeling marginally more hopeful only a few minutes before.
Hercules, too, was trying to take hope from the evidence of some improvement, however slight. Iolaus' breathing seemed a bit easier, and when he coughed now, though it was still clearly very painful for him, blood no longer spattered his lips. Even his colour seemed better, the gray pallor of death giving way to a more healthy tinge, though the shadows beneath Iolaus' eyes were still dark, and his face seemed shrunken with pain.
Weary, Hercules reached to stroke his friend's brow, murmuring to him as he had throughout the whole of the day. "You're getting better, Iolaus…stronger. You're going to be okay, buddy…you're going to be okay…"
But the demigod knew the litany was as much for his own reassurance as it was to comfort Iolaus. Sighing, he leaned back, but then paused when Iolaus moaned softly and his hand twitched in Hercules' grasp.
"Iolaus?" Herc called, hope in his voice. "Can you hear me? Iolaus?"
"Mmm?" the blond warrior murmured, grimacing against the pain as he reached toward consciousness.
"That's it," the demigod encouraged, pulling himself to his feet, hoping against hope that Iolaus was finally awakening. "C'mon, Iolaus…"
Blinking, Iolaus forced his eyes open and squinted against the flickering light as he tried to focus and remember where he was and what had happened. "Herc?" he whispered.
"I'm right here," the demigod assured him and smiled when Iolaus was finally able to focus on his face.
"You…hurt?" the blond warrior demanded, that worry the upper most thought in his mind.
"Yeah, but I'm doing okay," Hercules replied, smiling as he stroked his friend's brow. "I'm more worried about you…"
"Didn't…watch your back," Iolaus accused with a weak scowl. "Told you…"
"I know," Hercules intervened. "But, it's all right. I'm all right. Just…just focus on getting yourself better, okay?"
"Xander?" Iolaus asked then, struggling to remember everything there was to worry about.
"Xander is fine…everyone is fine," Hercules assured him. "The castle and the kingdom are secure."
"'Kay," Iolaus sighed, willing now to relax and let the worries go. Hercules reached for a cup of water by the bedside and then carefully lifted his friend's head to help him drink. Grateful for the cool liquid, enjoying the feel of it in his dry mouth and throat, Iolaus sipped eagerly, but could only take a little before he weakly turned his head away. Hercules lowered his head, and returned the cup to the side table, then again took Iolaus' hand in his own. Iolaus grinned weakly, and winked at his friend, consciously reminding Hercules of their last moments in the banquet hall…and Hercules smiled back as he stroked Iolaus' brow.
For a long moment, they were simply quiet together, each feeling immeasurable relief and gratitude that the other seemed to be all right, would recover and be just fine. Hercules wondered if his friend had drifted back to sleep.
But, then, taking a hitching breath, Iolaus whispered hoarsely, "So…since we're finally…going to get out of here…what are we going to do? Fish…hunt? Go see 'Mene?"
Hercules, remembering Iolaus' question just before their rescue efforts had begun, couldn't help but chuckle and, at the welcome sound, Iolaus' lips crooked into a weak grin as he opened his eyes, a teasing light dancing in them as he looked up at Hercules. "What?" he asked, feigning ignorance, as if he didn't understand Hercules' laughter, as if he hadn't deliberately prompted it to ease Herc's anxiety on his behalf.
Ruffling his friend's hair, the demigod replied, "Whatever you want, hero…the choice is yours."
Smiling, however weakly, with satisfaction, Iolaus yawned as he replied, "I know this great…fishing hole…"
And then he drifted back to sleep, content to know his own hero was just fine.