Disclaimer: Hercules the Legendary Journeys and its characters belong to MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. The Kirra's Journey series is a profit-free endeavor to have fun with the characters and pass it on to my readers. The character of Kirra, however, and any other original characters in this series (Meriba, Hiram, Tiras) belong solely to me, Jennifer Lawson. I do have future episodes completely planned taking Kirra throughout the entire television series. So, any ideas you may have for additional episodes would be great (and subject to author's approval, of course).

Content: Language is minimal. Warning to sensitive readers: This story deals with verbal, physical and sexual domestic abuse. If you find this subject matter disturbing, please read with caution. I do not go into detail, and future episodes of "Kirra's Journey" may not lean so heavily upon this subject, but to set the basis for Kirra's character it is the main theme of Episode 1: The Paths Taken. Depending on the subject matter of each episode, expect further disclaimers.

Spoiler Warning: Takes place sometime between "The Centaur Mentor Journey" and "Cave Of Echoes." There are no issues from either of these episodes dealt with, so it should not interfere in your reading.

Acknowledgments: Thank you to the creators of Hercules the Legendary Journeys for creating such great characters. Guys such as Hercules, Iolaus and Salmoneus should not belong only to their creators when so many fans who love them can give them new life through the gift of storytelling. The photo used in the cover is by John Salzarulo on Unsplash.

Kirra's Journey

Episode I - The Paths Taken

Chapter 1

The events that take place during the course of these stories happened many, many years ago. I wasn't even a twinkle in my mother's eyes at the time. However, my retelling of the events is accurate. They would have to be. The very woman who experienced them told them to me first hand. She began to tell me her stories over the course of several years as I grew into womanhood. Her experiences not only shaped her life, but I think that in the end they have shaped mine, as well. Through her stories, my image of her is of a vibrant young woman, easy with a smile and a warm greeting, because she was always that way with me. And I would guess from a man's point of view, she was easy on the eyes, too. Until her last days on this earth, her husband certainly adored her.

Whatever the reason she chose to convey her story to me, I listened with great eagerness. I drank in every word and did my best to put those words to parchment. Now that she is gone, I want to tell her story not because she was a great warrior, hero or poet, or even prophetess, despite the influences that guided her life ... but because of who she was to me. She was my friend, someone I will sorely miss having in my life. And maybe through the retelling of this story, I can bring myself closer to her in a way I never thought possible. So, from one bard to another, or to the avid reader, I hope you will take some time out of your busy day to share her life with me.

The day started out like any other ordinary day. Rising early to spend the morning with mother doing chores—cleaning house, washing clothes, mopping floors (same old routine day in and day out)—on into the afternoon where she tended the garden and helped mother get an early start to dinner. Today, however, was a very special day. For the first time in a lifetime, despite her seventeen years, Kirra had plans for the afternoon … plans mother knew absolutely nothing about. Of course, mother would not have ordinarily disapproved of what she was going to do. The problem was Hiram—her stepfather.

Kirra and her mother, Meriba, were as close as a mother and daughter could be, but Hiram ... well, there was no love lost between stepdaughter and stepfather. In the years he and her mother had been married, he was slowly but surely drawing a wedge between them. Before Meriba met Hiram, things had been perfect for Kirra and her mother, if you didn't count their destitute state—nearly out of money and one the edge of living on the street most of the time. But, that hadn't matter to Kirra. Things may have been rough day after day, but they had each other.

At twelve years old (old enough for life to grant Kirra intelligence beyond her years), she knew Hiram had set his sights on her mother long before Meriba saw it. Kirra had watched him like a hawk. She saw how he looked at her, knew what he wanted. She hated him from the start. Yes, she understood how difficult things were for them after father died. Mother did what she could to get by, but even Kirra knew her best did not always put food on the table. When Hiram came calling, bouquet of wild flowers in his hand, professing his love, Kirra knew it wouldn't be long before he and her mother were married.

Being a headstrong girl with the ability to demand her say since the time she could talk, Kirra protested the marriage. She reminded her mother how they had gotten by just fine for years without anyone else, but with only a look, Meriba quieted her. She claimed she loved Hiram, a confession Kirra found hard to believe. Six years later, she had trouble believing it. Hiram may be a professional blacksmith, and maybe he made the dinars they needed to survive, but he was a disgusting slob Kirra could not believe her mother shared the same bed with. He was overbearing, lazy, foul-mouthed and he stank. Every day since he said I do, he lorded over Kirra and her mother with a heavy fist. What was worse, Hiram had a tendency to drink too much. When he did, his heavy fist would become more than a reality.

How I hate him for taking away the life we once had, Kirra often thought.

The only thing that subdued her hatred of Hiram was her fear of him. She had gone rounds with his fist because of her headstrong ways often enough to know how not to set him off, especially when he was drinking.

She thanked the gods he was not home today. If he knew where she was going, he'd probably strangle her.

Standing in front of mother's warped mirror to inspect her reflection, Kirra smiled. She didn't care what Hiram said; she didn't look like a she-demon. Most people told her she was the spitting image of her father, Nemuel. She couldn't quite recall what he looked like, though. Memories of her father were vague. No image of his face lived in her mind, but she remembered how he used to spin her around. Sometimes she could close her eyes and remember in vivid detail the exhilarating feeling of flying through the air. How she wished she could have had more time with him.

Perhaps she couldn't recall what Nemuel looked like, but she could stare into the mirror and see she looked nothing like mother. Meriba was a bit on the plump side with dark, wavy hair. Her mother was beginning to show not only her age, as well as her life with Hiram, but her skin was still soft and fair. The one thing I did pick up from my mother, Kirra thought. What her father had given her was his thick blonde mane, a mix of bushy, unruly curls. She often had to braid her thick hair back away from her face, leaving curly bangs to hang over her forehead.

Kirra smiled again at the picture she presented in the mirror. Wearing her favorite dress—the soft blue one with the red and yellow bodice mother had bought last season during the winter solstice—mother would say she looked lovely. Lovely was perhaps a bit much in her estimation. Lovely was better suited when speaking of their village leader's daughter, not her. If someone were to make the comment, "You look pretty this afternoon," Kirra could be satisfied with that.

New dress donned, hair as free of kinks and frizz as she could make it, and chores complete, Kirra needed one more thing. Tiptoeing out of mother's room, she quietly slipped into her own room and grabbed the old worn scrolls out from under the bed. Sneaking a look out of the bedroom door, Kirra looked around cautiously for mother. She was nowhere in sight. The backdoor beckoned. Kirra sidled toward it.

"Kirra," said a voice from behind her.

Kirra skid to a stop and held back a curse. Turning to face her mother, who looked at her suspiciously, arms akimbo, Kirra said as innocently as she could, "Yes, Mother."

"Where are you going?"

Fiddling with the scroll in her hand, she said, "I just wanted to take a quick run to town…"
"I know what you're up to, Kirra," Meriba said. "Why must you try to hide everything from me?"

The innocence slipped away and Kirra eyed her mother straight-faced. "The less you know, the less Hiram knows. Besides, we're finished with the chores."

"Yes, we are. But, you know Hiram specifically forbid you to go into town today."

"Only because he knows why I want to go and he enjoys being cruel."

"Kirra." Meriba sighed and shook her head. "What do you find so compelling about this Hercules that you're willing to get yourself into trouble for him?"

Meriba loved her daughter and trusted her to make the right decisions in life, but she did not understand her daughter's fascination with the so-called half-god. Kirra was once a normal child doing the things that normal children do—playing, making friends—and one day a traveling bard journeyed through Endor telling stories about Hercules and his many adventures. Her daughter was forever changed. Hercules of Thebes? Half-god? The son of Zeus? Impossible! If he were, what would he be doing here among mortals? Kirra refused to see reason, wanting to live in her fantasy world, writing her own bard-like tales and songs.

"He's no different from any other man, my child," she told her daughter for the millionth time. "I have come to learn all men are the same. As you get older, you'll learn that for yourself, I'm sure."

Kirra shook her head emphatically. If mother meant she would end up marrying someone like Hiram to save herself from living on the streets, she was out of her mind. One too many swipes from Hiram's fist had made her soft. If she had to claw and scrape her way through life … if life on the streets was to be her future for refusing to succumb to the whimsy of any man ... then so be it!

"Not Hercules, mother. He is different. He has made a difference in the lives of so many people. How could you say he's like all other men, when you know nothing about him?" She held out her scrolls to her mother. "You should let me sing to you the songs I've written of him. It might change your mind."

Meriba stared down at her daughter's scrolls in concern. She never needed to question Kirra's motives before. Her child was not just book smart, of which Meriba made sure. Kirra was intelligent, a quick learner, eager for all the knowledge she could take in. She knew more often than Meriba herself the right or wrong course. No wonder Kirra's need to scribble down everything she could about this man Hercules made little sense to her mother. Every little detail she ever learned, even if she knew it was untrue, Kirra recorded in her scrolls. "I might need material for a song when it comes to me," she once told her mother. Kirra's love of singing, and the wonderful gift of song and lyric writing the gods had bestowed on her were beautiful, but Meriba hated to see it wasted this way.

Listening now to her daughter, Meriba wondered if she imagined Hercules coming to save them one day. Could that be the reason behind her fascination? Shaking her head sadly, Meriba gently grasped her daughter's shoulders. "Kirra, I'm sure he is the best of men. I don't doubt he is, but you can't expect him to come here and solve our problems for us."

"I don't expect him to solve our problems, mother." Kirra huffed in anger, pulling away from mother. She took a deep breath and calmed some, knowing deep down inside she imagined exactly that. "I just want to meet him. That's all. Besides, how many more times will Hercules visit Endor? Never! I have to go! I only have this one chance—a chance of a lifetime and I'm not going to miss out on it simply because Hiram says 'no'!"

"Kirra, if he were to find out…"

"He won't, I promise," she pleaded. She had only to beg. It won mother over every time.

Knowing the risk her daughter was taking, Meriba felt forced to take the risk with her. She allowed Hiram to keep her prisoner in her own home, but she couldn't let Kirra suffer the same fate. She wanted Kirra to have a life, to feel free to make her own choices. Was this the wisest course? Possibly not, but she had to trust that her daughter was wise enough to take the right path.

"Okay, but please be careful, and come home early."

Kirra's worry changed to a smile of joy. "I promise I will, mother. He'll never know I left." With a girlish giggle, she turned to the door, but after a moment, she went back and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear." She kissed the top of her child's head, tears springing from her eyes. So much like her father, Kirra was. "Hurry back."

"I will," Kirra said and rushed out the door.

With a beating heart, Kirra hurried into town, the scrolls pressed tightly against her chest, afraid the gentlest of breezes would take them away. Her fear was irrational, but it served another purpose—to keep her shaky hands in check. She didn't want anyone to know how nervous she was. Yet, it was hard to keep her excitement contained when she found the road into town and walked beneath the banner that read:

"WELCOME HERCULES!"

The village of Endor was a flurry of activity. All around her people were sprucing up their shops, decorating storefronts with flowers and ribbons of colorful fabric. In one area of town, a band played a lively jig and in the other, an aroma of cooked meats and baked bread tantalized every sense. They were creating quite a feast for the Known World's most famous hero. How she wished she could have taken part! Maybe when she wrote it all down later tonight, she will have.

Worried she might be late and miss Hercules's first appearance, Kirra ran not walked the whole way into town. All for nothing, it would appear. Hercules hadn't shown up yet. Thank the gods, she thought. Parched from exertion, she went to the first stand she found selling lemonade.

One of her old school teachers handed out cold drinks and Kirra went immediately to her. "Hello, Miss Lalia."

Lalia turned a bright smile her way. "Hello, Kirra! How are you today? Come to see Hercules?"

"Yes. I'm so excited!"

"We all are. This will be a momentous occasion we'll want to mark down in Endor's scrolls of history."

Her expression hopeful, she asked, "Has he come yet?"

"No, not yet. But, we expect him soon. Here … have some lemonade. You look like you could use it."

"Thanks. How much?" Kirra asked, digging into the pockets of her frock for the five dinars she saved up.

Lalia held up a hand. "Not to worry. Today all food and drink is free to celebrate the arrival of Hercules."

Kirra accepted the drink gratefully, and not just because her mouth felt like a parched desert. Wondering around town, careful not to get anywhere near the blacksmith's shop, Kirra noticed a gray-bearded, heavyset man who seemed to be organizing the efforts to get the village ready for Hercules's arrival. He wore a long-skirted garment with gold tassels at the hem that rustled around his ankles as he walked. Several expensive rings glistened on his fingers. Obviously, he was of some import. She had never seen him in Endor before. Watching from a distance, she listened to him shout to a man on the roof of Endor's Counsel Hall. The man was attempting, not quite well, to arrange flower decorations off the side.

"No, not like that! That's upside down! It looks ridiculous!"

She watched the man on the roof rearrange the decoration and look to the bearded man to make sure he had arranged it correctly.

"There...that's much better!" the bearded man said.

Kirra wondered if this man might have a little inside information as to when Hercules would be arriving. Mother always said If you want an answer, you have to ask the question first.

Making her way up behind him, Kirra went to tap him on the shoulder. "Excu—" To her surprise, the man turned and walked right into her.

"Whoa!" He quickly grabbed hold of her by the arms to keep her from falling and in the process knocked her scrolls from her hands.

"I'm sorry!" Kirra worried she had offended this man of such a high station. "I am so sorry, sir! It was an accident!" So profuse was she in her apologies, she didn't notice her scrolls when they fell to the ground.

"It's all right. My fault. I should have been watching where I was going," the man said with a smile. "I believe you dropped something. Here, let me get it for you."

"My scroll! Oh, thank you, sir. If I ever lost this, I don't know what I'd do."

The bearded man chuckled and said, "You know, I know someone just like you who has a thing for scrolls, too."

"Really? Nothing like my scrolls, I'm sure."

"What is it, a diary?"

"Well, no, not really." Nervously, Kirra stared down at the ground and stubbed her toe into the dirt. A blush steadily worked its way up her cheeks until they were both aflame. "Actually, it's sort of …" She paused as she searched for the confidence to say it. "…they're songs of the life of Hercules."

With a knowing glance, the man nodded his head and smiled, "Oh, Hercules, huh? Big fan?"

"Yes," she said, embarrassed, her eyes downshifting to the ground. "I've wanted to meet him all my life and now I'm finally getting the chance. It's so exciting!"

"You know," he said, straightening his colorful tunic and prancing. "I just happen to be a close, personal friend of the big guy."

Kirra snorted with laughter, her embarrassment gone. "Right, of course you are!"

"It's true!" He crossed his first and middle fingers together and said, "We're like this."

"I'm sorry," she laughed. "I don't believe you. Besides, if you were, you'd be in my scroll here. What's your name anyway?"

"What's yours?" he said, mirroring her curiosity.

"Kirra."

"Well, Kirra, I am Salmoneus, friend and sometimes sidekick to Hercules."

Trying hard to hold back another gale of laughter, Kirra blurted, "I've never heard of you, Salmoneus."

"Never heard of me?" Salmoneus said, looking wounded. "How could you never have heard of me?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "In all the stories I've heard about Hercules, no one has ever mentioned a Salmoneus."

"Well, in all these stories you've heard, you ever heard about the time Hercules fought the Cyclops of Treachus?"

"Yes, it's one of my favorites. I've actually written a song about it."

"Well, there you are! I was there! In fact, it was the first time I met Hercules. I have to be somewhere in one of your little diddies."

Kirra shook her head without remorse. "Sorry. Still never heard of you."

Salmoneus searched his memory for another popular Hercules story. "Okay, okay. Um … how about when Hercules defeated the evil Darfus?"

Kirra smiled and shook her head. "You mean when Hercules and the Warrior Princess defeated the evil Darfus?"

"Well, of course, that's what I meant!" he said, exasperated.

"That's not what you said."

Perplexed at this strange young girl, Salmoneus's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry if I don't remember the details correctly. I was about to become the lunch of a huge monster dog at the time."

"What was the dog's name?" she asked suspiciously.

Salmoneus looked around as if searching the ground for the answer. "Uh … Greagus."

"Did I hear a moment of hesitation?"

"It was fear … pure and simple." A look of unforgotten fear washed over Salmoneus and he placed a hand over his heart. "Just the mention of that name scares me witless."

Surprised at the man, Kirra struggled to contain her laughter. She had taken him for an important, dignified man, and here he was begging for recognition as a sidekick of Hercules. Hercules already had a sidekick and it certainly wasn't this man.

"Sorry, Salmoneus. You're going to have to give me a little more to go on than that," she told him. "Everyone knows these stories, you know. You're not the only one."

Salmoneus nodded in understanding, but inside he was scheming. Before the day was out, this girl was going to believe him one way or another. "Don't worry. When Hercules gets here, you're going to see I'm telling the truth."

Kirra hatched a scheme of her own. "Well, if you're the good friend you say you are, I expect you to introduce me to him."

Placing a friendly hand on Kirra's shoulder, Salmoneus began to walk her towards the center of the village. "Gladly, my dear, gladly."

Pointing her finger at him, Kirra said, "And he'd best know your name."

"I can assure you he will."