IWC February 2002 Challenge: Write a Young Hercules story in which Iolaus is the hero to show how Hercules reacts
Anton stood with his shoulders hunched and his head down, fighting back tears of humiliation and anger. They were laughing at him again, making fun of him, just because he wasn't like them. He'd never wanted to come to this Academy, had no desire to be a warrior. He hated violence and, truthfully, it frightened him. He wanted nothing so much as to be left alone in a mountain of scrolls, with fresh parchment and ink, free to read what great minds had written, to think about their words, and to add his own through stories, or thoughtful essays about life, the mystery of it, the wonder and beauty of it. But, his father had scoffed at such ambitions, and had sent him here to the Academy, to live among strangers, to 'make a man' of him.
He tried, he really did. But, he was smaller than most, and spindly, awkward. It was hard to keep up during the physical training, especially during the sparring when they all engaged in hand to hand combat exercises to improve hand and eye coordination, balance and adeptness. So, he came here to the hall, early, to work out on his own, trying to find an affinity with the staff and sword, with the balance beam, and with the bow, that to date had eluded him.
He'd been working with the staff on the balance beam, trying to do as Cheiron had taught them yesterday, move with a sense of place and person, move with eyes shut along the narrow beam, balancing the staff and engaging in mock battle with an unseen enemy to test balance and skill. They'd come in just as he'd missed his step and toppled off the beam, the staff snapping in two as his weight came down upon it awkwardly, and he'd ended in a heap of mortification.
They'd laughed. Called him names, made fun of him. One had hauled him to his feet, saying 'here let me help you', and had shoved him at another. They told him he was useless and always would be. Mocked him for not being like them.
"Leave him alone," a hard, uncompromising voice broke into their harsh banter.
"Or what?" sneered one of the bullies.
"Or I'll whip your butt," Iolaus responded, moving threateningly toward the circle of second year cadets to make them move back unconsciously so that they were no longer standing around Anton, but were ranged in a ragged line facing him. He was smaller than they were, and only a first year cadet, but there was something about him that they didn't often see since he usually played the clown, something dangerous, and instinctively they were wary. Iolaus continued to move forward until he was standing between them and the hapless first year cadet.
Anton glanced up at him, blinking back tears that would only make him look more a fool than he already felt. He didn't know Iolaus well, just that they were both in the first year, and that neither of them seemed to fit in very well. He felt a flash of surprise that this tough, smart-mouthed stranger would intervene on his behalf.
"Brave words from a runt," Jervas replied to Iolaus' threat, attempting to take back control of the situation. "Like you could take on all of us...get real."
"You might be surprised," Iolaus replied, standing at ease, his hands on his hips.
"Oh, careful Jervas," Tellus mocked. "He's a street rat, no better than a thief...likely to fight dirty."
"Yeah," agreed Botho, "You shouldn't even be here...you're no better than a criminal."
Iolaus grinned, "Well, at least I got here on my own merit...you all got here 'cause your daddies bought you a place in the famous 'Academy'."
Zenon snorted at that. "Merit...some 'merit', getting caught. You weren't even a good thief."
Iolaus just shook his head as if sadly amused by their inane banter. Casting a look back over his shoulder to see how Anton was holding up, he said with a jaunty tone, "Hey, Anton, you know what I call these guys? The 'campus comedy crew prattling on' or 'C3PO' for short. They're pompous idiots who love the sound of their own voices. Don't pay any attention to them."
"Hey!" Tellus objected, stepping forward to push Iolaus, intending to plant a hand on the smaller cadet's chest, only to find his wrist caught and twisted up behind his back.
"See, my point exactly...you're pathetic," Iolaus observed drily, drawing a hidden smile from Anton.
The others were about to rush him when Jason and Hercules entered the hall. Taking in the scene before them, they immediately moved to intervene, which stopped Jervas and his crowd cold. The Prince of Corinth and the Son of Zeus had proven themselves to be a formidable team the year before, and no one messed with them.
With a few sullen comments, they backed off. Hercules turned to Iolaus, a pained look on his face, as he observed, "Gods, Iolaus, can't you ever walk into a place without getting into trouble or starting a fight?"
Iolaus bristled. It was one thing to be insulted by guys he had no respect for, and another to be chastised by his best friend in front of the idiots. "Hey, what makes you so sure I started this?"
"Because you always start it," Jason replied, sounding put upon.
The situation was about to deteriorate when Cheiron emerged from the storeroom where he'd been sorting out equipment for the day's training exercises. He'd been about to intervene when he'd heard Iolaus enter and had waited to see if the situation would resolve itself on its own. But, it had gone on long enough, and the innocent were being held accountable for the actions of the guilty. It was time to intervene. They all looked mortified to realize he'd overheard everything.
"I think that's probably enough," the centaur said with heavy firmness. He eyed Jervas' bunch with ill favour. "You four have kitchen duty for the next month for having bullied Anton. I would have hoped that after a year of training and learning here at the Academy that you would have acquired more appropriate behaviour. The proper response this morning would have been to help him, show him what he is doing wrong, so that he might succeed next time."
They bristled at his censure, and there were sighs and muted groans over the work assignment, but otherwise they stood before him with eyes cast down, the picture of contrition. However, their sideways glances at Iolaus promised him that they'd find an opportunity to get him later for having interfered. He just shrugged and rolled his eyes, unimpressed by their covert threats.
"As for you, Hercules and Jason, thank you for intervening to restore peace. However, I would caution you to make certain of your facts before you accuse others unjustly," Cheiron continued, and both cadets straightened, understanding that they, too, had just been rebuked.
Walking past them all, toward the entrance way, Cheiron called over his shoulder, 'Anton and Iolaus, come with me."
"Now they're in for it," someone crowed in a loud stage whisper from behind the centaur. Cheiron paused, then turned, eying the miscreants with diminishing patience, then turned to the two first year cadets. "I have a favour to ask of the two of you, and a special duty for you to perform if you would oblige me," he said, making it clear just whom exactly, of all of them, had won his favour that morning.
Iolaus' eyebrows lifted in surprise as he and Anton flashed one another looks of startled satisfaction and then they were smiling, and swaggering a little, as they followed Cheiron who had once again turned to leave the hall. As he passed his friends, Hercules and Jason, Iolaus couldn't resist a little non-verbal crowing of his own, his expression and gestures as much as saying sarcastically, 'That'll teach you to jump to conclusions!', and then he grinned good-naturedly as he clapped Anton on the shoulder and the two left the hall in the wake of the centaur. Hercules and Jason threw each other looks of mingled chagrin and strained forbearance for Iolaus' antics and his ability to land on his feet.
Outside, Cheiron was waiting in the fresh light of the new day. There was a crispness to the air, and the sky was endlessly clear. Another perfect spring day. He graced them with a dry, half smile of approbation as they approached him. However, he made no other comment about what had happened in the hall. Instead, he launched directly into his request. "Our food supplies are getting low and I'd like the two of you to take the wagon to the market to replenish our stocks. I have a list here," he reached for the pouch at his belt, "and the necessary silver." Holding the pouch toward them, he asked, "Would you be willing to perform this chore?"
Chore? Both young men grinned. A chance to get away from the Academy for a few hours, to explore the wonders of the marketplace in the village an hour away, to be trusted with the Academy's silver...well, this was an honour indeed.
Iolaus recovered first, nodding solemnly, "Of course, Cheiron, we're both ever ready to do whatever we can for the sake of the Academy, no matter the sacrifice of losing practice time and classes with Fiduceous."
The centaur flashed one of his rare smiles, his eyes warm with good humour as he replied, "Don't push it, Iolaus." Handing the pouch of silver to the former thief, he nodded to both cadets and returned to the hall. Iolaus stared at the heavy bag of silver in his hand, then he gazed at the back of the retreating centaur, a look of amazed and touched vulnerability in his eyes.
"Wow," breathed Anton, overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events.
"Yeah, 'wow'...I've never seen Cheiron smile before," Iolaus said, reclaiming his usual demeanor of brash toughness, as he pulled the smaller cadet along toward the stable, "C'mon, let's hitch the wagon and get out of here for a while."
* * *
It was a great day for the trip to the market. The air warmed as the sun rose and dried the dew from the grass. Flowers opened to the light and bees buzzed around lazily gathering their nectar. Anton had thanked Iolaus shyly for having stood up for him, feeling mortified that he needed 'standing up for'. Iolaus had just shrugged and said it was no big deal. He couldn't stand bullies, and that's all those guys were in his opinion. But, glancing sideways at Anton, he could see the guy was still pretty upset.
"Hey, look...we all have things we're good at, and things we're not. I notice that you run rings around the rest of us in class. I have no idea how you know all that stuff, and some of the things you think about, the connections you make between ideas, blow me away. So, don't feel so bad that you're not the greatest athlete around, who cares?" he expounded with a bluff tone, trying for lightness, just wishing the guy with him would perk up a bit.
"My father cares," Anton said quietly, astonished by his admission.
Iolaus didn't say anything for a minute. He'd caught the hurt tone, the sound of defeat in the kid's voice, and he sure knew what that felt like. Maybe he and this quiet little scroll-worm had more in common than he'd thought. "Yeah, well, sometimes fathers don't see who we really are, just who they wish we were. Doesn't mean we're bad or wrong...it just means that they're blind and a little stupid. You can't please everyone, not even your parents, at the cost of who you are," he responded finally, looking straight ahead, wishing it was as easy to believe the words as to say them.
"I guess," Anton muttered, not sounding convinced.
Iolaus glanced at him, a speculative look on his face. "Look, I'll make you a deal," he offered.
Anton flashed up a questioning look, wondering what this brash, unexpectedly kind, guy was getting at.
With a grin, Iolaus continued, "I'll teach you how to handle the weapons and hunt, if you'll teach me how to make sense of all that stuff that Fiduceous spouts in class. I swear, half the time I have no idea what he's going on about!"
Unable to resist that bright grin, Anton responded with one of his own, unconsciously straightening in his seat, as he replied, "It's a deal, Iolaus."
The blond cadet nodded decisively, and got started. "Okay, so explain this thing called 'pathetic fallacy'. 'Pathetic' is right. And, why does it matter anyway?"
Anton laughed at the aggrieved tone in his new friend's voice, and proceeded to hold up his end of their bargain.
* * *
The young cadets had laughed a good deal on their journey to the market, and discovered they genuinely liked one another...something neither of them would ever have expected to happen before that morning. They prowled the busy market, gazing with admiration at well crafted leather work, fine porcelain and silver work, and Iolaus practically drooled over the selection of knives on display, while Anton lost himself for a while amongst stacks of scrolls of adventure stories. They bought hot pies and fruit juice to satisfy their hunger, and then proceeded to shop in earnest, checking off each item on Cheiron's list as they settled with the vendors. Anton got a lesson in bargaining that day. Having spent a couple of hard years on the streets of Thebes, Iolaus had a good appreciation of what things cost and knew when someone was trying to inflate their prices. By the time they were finished, Iolaus still had a goodly amount of silver in the pouch to return to Cheiron. He smiled a bit to himself in satisfaction...it would be like returning the trust Cheiron had shown him by giving Iolaus the task and the silver, with interest.
Content with the world, they had begun the return journey, and were not quite halfway back to the Academy, when they heard the high-pitched wail of a frightened child somewhere off to the right, coming from the forest that lined the dusty road. Iolaus pulled up on the reins, and they barely spared one another a glance before they jumped from the wagon with one accord to go see if the kid was hurt and needed help.
Naturally cautious, Iolaus put a finger to his lips to signal silence, and he led the way, finding a path through the woodland that would create the least amount of likelihood that their approach would be heard. He could move like a shadow, but he'd already noticed that Anton wasn't aware of how to move silently in the forest. He'd have to make that the first lesson when he had time to share his knowledge of woodcraft.
They hadn't gone far when they saw several rough-looking men through the trees who were hauling two little kids along with them. Iolaus' eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. It seemed pretty clear that the kids didn't belong to these guys, which meant they were kidnappers at best and slavers at worst. Cautiously, they followed along, trying to decide what to do. Not more than ten minutes later, deeper into the forest, the men tramped into a glade that sheltered an ancient shrine to Ares.
"Are you sure this is going to do any good?" one of the brigands asked, clearly unsettled by the place.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Ares told me that he'd give us his blessings if we made him a proper sacrifice," another replied. Leering at one of the kids, he continued, "Young blood should be 'proper' enough, doncha think?"
Iolaus' heart clenched as he realized these outlaws planned to murder the little kids. He looked sharply at Anton, and saw that the smaller cadet had paled, his eyes wide and frightened. Cocking his head back in the direction they'd come, Iolaus led him a little ways away so that they could whisper together without risk of being heard.
"Look," murmured Iolaus, "you have to take the wagon and get back to the Academy as fast as possible, to bring back help."
"What are you going to do?" Anton asked, his voice quivering a little.
"I'm going to distract them long enough for you to get back here with Cheiron and the others," Iolaus replied, his voice hard, his eyes determined. No way was anyone going to hurt those little kids so long as he could stop them.
"But...there are six of them. How can you stop them all by yourself? They'll kill you for sure!" protested Anton, not liking the odds one bit. Swallowing his fear, he said staunchly, "Maybe I should stay and help you."
Iolaus shook his head sharply, but he couldn't resist a quick smile at the brave offer. "No...thanks, but no. Someone has to go for help, and someone has to fight. I'm the warrior here, remember...so just go as fast as you can, okay? If I can get between them and the kids, I'll try to get the kids to run toward the road so watch for them when you come back."
Anton looked at Iolaus for a minute, knowing his friend was risking his life for those children...not to mention saving Anton's own life by giving him reason to flee the scene. Impatient, Iolaus urged, "Go on, we don't have much time. Go!"
Iolaus was about to turn to head back, when Anton grabbed his arm. "Be careful," Anton said, his eyes anxious. "I'll be as quick as I can...and I expect you to be here when I get back."
Iolaus favoured him with a warm smile, gripped his shoulder for a moment in friendship, then turned without a word to head back to save the children. He wouldn't make a promise he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep, and there was no way to guarantee he'd still 'be here' when Anton got back. But, he didn't plan on dying easily. He didn't plan on dying at all.
Anton spared him one last look, then turned and ran back to the wagon as if his own life depended upon his speed.
* * *
As he returned to the glade, Iolaus was glad he was still wearing the sword he'd belted on that morning in preparation for the day's workout in the hall. Sliding it from its sheath, he paused a moment in the shadows to get his bearings and decide on his strategy. Grimacing, he realized that there wouldn't be much strategy involved, just raw audacity and hopefully a lot of good luck.
Then, just before he stepped into view, an idea occurred to him. It wasn't much, but it might even the odds a little, and distract them at the same time. Which was the whole idea, right? He knelt to pick up a dry stick, then taking one end in either hand, he snapped it, and then he said in a loud whisper, "Shhh...they'll hear you!"
He saw the heads of the six villains snap toward the sounds they had just heard. The one thing they did not need was witnesses. Sacrificing children had been frowned upon for some decades now, and they could be hanged for what they planned to do.
One of the villains, a tall mean looking guy dressed in leather nodded toward the forest as he ordered another to 'check it out'. Grinning in satisfaction with the success of his little strategy, Iolaus faded back into the shadows, and waited until the hapless rogue had passed him. Then, with the stealth of dusk creeping in over the day, Iolaus moved in behind the man and clipped him hard with the pommel of his sword, catching him as he fell to lower him silently to the ground. He quickly gathered some loose branches and covered the unconscious man to make him less visible to whoever might come looking for him. Then, he returned to the edge of the glade, and waited.
Sure enough, the five remaining outlaws became anxious in the continuing silence, two of them holding their hands over the mouths of the kids to keep them from being heard. "Sandreas!" one of them finally called out, "what's going on? Do you see anyone?"
When 'Sandreas' didn't answer, the leader nodded at two more. "Go look for him," he commanded.
Iolaus had difficulty restraining a snicker when he saw how reluctant the two brigands were to enter the deep shadows of the forest around them. But, the tall guy gave them a threatening expression and, clearly more afraid of him than of what the shadows might hold, they drew their swords and moved into the trees.
Again, Iolaus watched as they moved past his position low under a thick bush. He'd learned long ago that when men hunted other men, they tended to keep their gaze up, rarely considering that someone could be lurking down by their feet. He moved out behind them, and tossed a rock over to the left ahead of their position, distracting them effectively. They froze, their eyes searching the dim forest ahead, and he once again was able to knock one out so silently that the guy standing with his back to them three feet away hadn't heard a thing.
Moving forward, Iolaus put the point of his sword in the other man's back, whispering, "Drop it or die."
He was rewarded by a startled gasp, and then nerveless fingers let a sword fall to the cushioned forest floor, making scarcely a sound as it slipped into the undergrowth. The outlaw stood frozen, wondering what had happened to the comrade who had only moments before been at his back, wondering if two of his friends were already dead.
'Fear is a wonderful thing,' Iolaus thought as he swiftly brought his sword up and then back down, bringing the flat of it hard against the man's head, knocking a third villain into senselessness. This time, though, he didn't bother trying to catch the man's body as he fell, letting the sound of his unconscious body snapping the low branches of a bush as it fell echo in the silence of the wood.
Iolaus was moving before the guy hit the dirt, moving to circle around the clearing, to come up behind the others, closer to the kids.
Again, he paused, frowning a little as he wondered how to get the children away from the three men still standing in the clearing.
* * *
Anton had clambered back up onto the wagon and slapped the reins, pulling the whip from its holder to snap it over the backs of the horses, garnering their immediate attention. They'd pulled off at a run, galloping down the track, the wagon swaying precariously behind them. Breathless, Anton held the reins taut, controlling the team, not letting them run wild, but urging them on as fast as they could go.
Gods, how much time would it take to get to the Academy? And, then they still had to get back. Could Iolaus hold out that long? His heart in his throat, afraid for his friend's life, Anton slapped the reins again, calling for even greater speed.
* * *
As the wagon thundered distantly down the road, Iolaus pondered his options. Regrettably, there didn't seem to be many, and he figured he'd better make a move before the kids changed from being potential sacrifices to being hostages. He had to get them away from the two guys holding onto them and somehow get himself between them and the outlaws who wanted to murder them. Taking a breath, he moved to the very edge of the forest, waiting for a moment when the attention of all three was focused on the far side of the clearing toward where their comrades had disappeared. Distracted, the villains held the two children onehandedly, and given the kids were small and no threat, they weren't paying attention to them.
Iolaus stepped from the shadows, one finger up to his lips, and caught the eyes of the bigger boy, a kid maybe seven years old. The kid's eyes widened, but he neither moved nor spoke. Iolaus grinned reassuringly and nodded with approval, winking at the child for good measure to show he was friendly. Quietly, Iolaus stalked toward the men standing fifteen feet away. When he got to within five feet, he brought his hand to his mouth, miming a biting motion and then pointed at the guy holding onto the kid.
Frightened, but touchingly brave, the little guy nodded solemnly and turned, his mouth opening for the attack on the hand holding his arm. At the same moment, Iolaus leapt forward, driving a boot high into the back of the guy holding the other kid, breaking his grip and driving him forward just as the older boy bit down hard, making the man holding him jump in surprise, yelling as he let go and turned to smack the kid. But, the kid was already moving back, to stand with the one Iolaus had swiftly pushed behind him. So, instead of turning to meet a helpless child, the outlaw turned into Iolaus' fist.
And, then, the fight was on. "Run to the forest," Iolaus called to the children as his sword came up to meet that of the outlaw leader, blocking and parrying the blow. The bigger boy grabbed the younger one, a kid maybe five years old, and dragged him back into the shelter of the trees.
* * *
Anton drove the team through the Academy gates, and standing in the wagon box, he hauled back with all his strength, pulling them roughly to a halt.
"CHEIRON!" Anton screamed, leaping down from the wagon, "CHEIRON, HELP!"
Racing toward the exercise hall, Anton had almost made it to the entrance, yelling at the top of his lungs all the way, when the door burst open and Cheiron strode briskly out into the afternoon light.
"Anton! What's wrong?" he called out, then caught the small youth who skidded into him, panting in fear.
"Iolaus...he's fighting some outlaws who plan to sacrifice two kids. There're six of them, mean looking. Please, we have to go back to help him!" Anton babbled out his message as he grabbed Cheiron's arm and tried to drag the centaur back toward the road.
By that point, other cadets had emerged from the hall to find out what was going on. Jervas snickered disparagingly, "Yeah, like we'd believe the runt would take on six bad guys by himself. He's making it up."
Cheiron flashed Jervas a quelling look, just as Hercules broke through from the back of the cluster of cadets, Jason right behind him. Anxiety clear in his eyes, the demigod demanded, "Where? Show us!"
"The old shrine to Ares, in the forest, between here and town..." Anton replied, his voice almost breaking with the weight of his own pent up fear.
Cheiron placed a calming hand on the youth's shoulder. "Catch your breath. The rest of you, get your weapons and follow as quickly as you can."
With that, Cheiron swung Anton up onto his back, and was digging his hooves into the sand of the courtyard as he broke into a gallop, heading to the rescue, desperately hoping he'd find the impetuous and irrepressible blond cadet in one piece when he got there.
Not needing any weapon other than his strength, and able to run as fast as any horse or centaur, Hercules took off on Cheiron's heels, only two paces behind him.
Jason took charge of the others, sending some to get horses from the stable and others to gather weapons for them all. In less than five minutes, fifteen cadets were thundering down the road in the wake of Cheiron and Hercules.
* * *
Iolaus' arm was getting tired and the sword seemed to get heavier with every slash and parry. Sweat was running down his face and body, to mingle with the blood dripping from small slashes and gashes he'd been unable to avoid. None of them serious, but they took their own toll, though his attention was too focused, his adrenaline flowing too freely to even notice the minor injuries.
He'd been lucky taking three out through his subterfuge in the forest. He'd been luckier still to have separated the children from their captors and his luck held in the early part of the furious battle, when he'd been able to deal a disabling injury to one of his foes, a slash deep in the man's side which, with luck, wouldn't kill him, but which had effectively taken him out of the fray. But, that still left two strong and vicious men, determined to kill him so there'd be no witness to their crime.
Iolaus had heard the littler kid crying shortly after the fight began, so he knew the kids hadn't gone far into the woods. Probably too scared of getting lost, too scared to even move. The outlaws had heard the keening as well, and the big one grinned with the realization that the sacrifice to Ares could still be possible. Iolaus gritted his teeth and fought with a grim precision, grateful for the endless drills that Cheiron had visited upon them, to build both skill and endurance.
He danced and whirled, constantly in motion, slamming his sword against those of his opponents, often driving them back with his speed and skill. But, they just kept coming, trying to spread out, so that one could get around him. Deciding that he had to reduce the odds against him, Iolaus lashed out with renewed aggressiveness, concentrating on the smaller, slower of the two men in front of him. Finally, the opening came. He blocked the big man's thrust with a back swing of his sword, and carried the maneovre into a turn, whirling around to confront the other man, a step to the left of where he'd been. Feinting to the left, he drew the man's sword wide from his body, off balance. Iolaus quickly whirled back around, cutting deeply into the man's left arm, the sweep of his sword carrying through to slash across his opponent's chest. The guy cried out, dropping his sword and falling to his knees in the dirt.
Iolaus had to drop down on one of his own knees to avoid the slash from the bigger man, who had hoped to catch him off guard. Swinging his sword up to block the blow, Iolaus pushed back hard as he came surging to his feet. He blew out a relieved breath that he only had one guy left to deal with, when the first man he'd knocked out in the forest came staggering back into the glade, holding a hand to the back of his head.
"Great," muttered Iolaus as he caught the guy's expression of shock and then anger as he pulled his sword and advanced to join the battle. "Back to two against one."
He was handicapped by having to stay on point, between the outlaws and the kids. If he circled around, he knew one of them would go after the children while the other kept him occupied. And, then it would be over, because he'd not get a chance to get the kids away again before one or both of them was killed by these animals. So, he guarded his breathing, kept his attention focused, and kept fighting, trying not to let them see that he was weakening.
He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. The bad guys had suddenly wised up to the idea that they didn't have to fight him at once. One at a time would keep him busy, while the other one rested, and then they'd change positions. But, there was no one to give Iolaus relief. It was then that they started scoring points, the tips of their swords catching an arm or cheek before he pulled back or blocked the attack. One slash tore across his chest, cutting through his woolen vest and cotton shirt, cutting a thin red line across his ribs.
He dropped back a pace, to give himself a little more room and a moment's space before the next attack. It was the sound of distant shouting that heartened him. Breathing out a deep breath of relief, Iolaus gave his attackers a feral grin, knowing that he'd won and they'd lost. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, the kids would be okay.
The bandits had heard the shouts as well, and knew from the look on his face that reinforcements were on the way to back him up. Giving up the whole thing as a bad bet, the guy who had stumbled out of the forest pulled back, and then turned and ran in the opposite direction.
But, the big man's eyes blazed with fury, outraged that this puny kid had held them off so long, had taken out so many of his men, and had ruined his sacrifice to the great god he'd hoped to win to his cause. Anyone with aspirations of being a warlord needed Ares on his side. But, the god had been disdainful, had not replied to his entreaties, and finally in irritation, had told the guy he'd have to make a suitable sacrifice if he hoped to win the god's support.
And, now, this kid had ruined his plans. With a bitter determination to destroy the runt before he ran, the outlaw put all of his strength and fury into his attack, beating Iolaus back. With a roar of aggression, he brought his blade up in a sweeping slash, knowing that the kid no longer had enough strength left to block the blow.
Iolaus knew it, too. Instead of trying to block the blow, he dropped below it and thrust his sword up into his opponent's right side, driving his weapon deep then pulling it back and rolling away, scrambling back up onto his feet. The guy was strong, and his anger drove him forward despite the wound, maddened by it. Iolaus couldn't move any further back or they'd be on top of the kids, nor could he move from between the kids and this crazy, bloodthirsty outlaw.
So, he did the only thing he could do. He lunged forward, using the last of his strength to block the slashing blade, letting his own sword slide down its length with a shriek of iron against iron, then ripped his sword across the man's throat, leaving himself vulnerable to the slash of the blade his own was no longer holding back.
The outlaw's sword bit deeply into his left arm, high near the shoulder, even as his own severed the man's carotid artery, killing him. The bandit collapsed in a fountain of blood, while Iolaus fell to his knees, dropping his own sword so that his right hand could come up to cover the wound on his arm.
He could hear the voices more clearly, still some distance away, but blessedly coming closer. He panted in exhaustion, as he lifted his head and called to the kids, telling them it was alright, his friends were coming. They'd just timidly left the shadows to come stand beside him when Iolaus was startled by the sound of applause.
His head flashed around toward the temple, and he paled at the sight of Ares leaning against it, languidly clapping his hands. Letting his hands fall to his side, the God of War stood away from the wall and walked toward the blond cadet, a half smile on his face, his eyes inscrutable. Iolaus pushed the kids behind him with his right arm, never taking his eyes from the God who was coming ever closer.
"Leave them alone, Ares," Iolaus said quietly, trying to keep the fear he felt from showing in his voice or face.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt them," Ares replied as he cast a look of disgust at the dead bandit. "I loathe mortals who traffic in innocent victims, and the sacrifice of human beings, particularly children, disgusts me."
"Really? Then why didn't you stop them yourself?" Iolaus replied sarcastically. "That big guy said you'd demanded a 'suitable sacrifice'.
Ares curled his lip with distaste as he scowled down at the dead outlaw, shaking his head, as he replied, "I meant a boar or wild bull...something that would have taken skill to capture, and at least a modicum of courage." Turning his gaze back to Iolaus, he continued, "I thought you knew gods aren't supposed to interfere with the actions of mortals...so, yeah, regrettably, I'd've had to let them kill the kids. I have to say, your timing was impeccable."
Ares swept his gaze over Iolaus, from head to foot and back again, an appraising look on his face. With a nod of satisfaction, he said with approval, "You fought well, kid. You did good. Brave and dauntless warriors impress me, more so when they fight to save the lives of others." With a smug, possessive tone, the God continued with a tight smile, "You're one of mine now. I'll be watching you."
Iolaus was about to protest that he was not now, nor would he ever be, one of Ares' warriors. But, before he could speak, the God's eyes flashed past him, a sardonic smile on his face, as he called out, "Brother, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you, so I'll be on my way. See you around." With a last meaningful look at Iolaus, the God of War disappeared.
Cheiron, Anton and Hercules emerged from the trees. They'd arrived only in time to hear Ares' last words to Iolaus, calling the cadet his own.
"Man, am I ever glad to see you guys," Iolaus said, his voice shaky with exhaustion and residual fear. Cheiron had moved quickly toward him, and now held out a hand to help Iolaus to his feet. Without a word, Cheiron ripped what was left of the sleeve of his Iolaus' shirt away, and formed it into a tourniquet to stop the bleeding of his arm, tying it tightly.
All the while he worked, Cheiron's eyes were flashing around the clearing, taking in the dead man, and the wounded ones farther away. "Anton said there were six of them," he observed.
Understanding, Iolaus nodded as he explained, "Two of them are either unconscious in the forest over there, or have taken off to save their own skins. One did run when he heard your voices letting me know you were close."
Hercules had gone over to kneel by the children, talking with them quietly, assuring them that they were alright now.
"He saved us," the older one said loudly as he pointed at Iolaus. "They were going to kill us, but he saved us!"
"I know," replied Hercules as he too looked up at Iolaus, who had turned at the sound of the child's voice. "Iolaus is a brave warrior."
There was something in the sound of his voice, and in the odd look in his eyes, that left Iolaus feeling confused, almost defensive. But, that was crazy. He was just tired...gods, was he tired. Giving Herc a weary grin, Iolaus turned back to Cheiron. "Can we go home now?"
The centaur favoured him with a knowing smile. "By all means, Iolaus. We'll take the children with us and then trace their parents. The other cadets aren't far behind us. When we meet up with them, you and the children can take one of the horses and ride the rest of the way back."
Iolaus smiled gratefully. He really felt a little too tired to hoof it all the way to the Academy, 'no disrespect intended,' he thought in silent amusement as he gazed down at Cheiron's hooves. Spotting Anton standing to the side, he walked over to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thanks for bringing them back so soon, Anton...you saved my life."
* * *
Having realized they were safe now, the children began to chatter, telling anyone who would listen all about what had happened, especially about how Iolaus had fought off four bad men. Cheiron, amused, got into the act, asking for an explanation of what had happened to result in two of the bandits lying unconscious in the forest. Iolaus explained the ploy he had used to split up the bandits, allowing him a better chance to hold off the rest of them long enough for help to arrive.
The result of it all was that by the time the troupe had arrived back at the Academy, Iolaus was an acclaimed, bonafide hero. The stories only grew when those who had been sent back to bury the body of the dead outlaw and round up the two villains who were still lying out cold in the forest, returned to recount what they'd seen...big men, killers from the sound of things, whom Iolaus had defeated all by himself.
Even the scoffers were impressed.
Too tired the first evening to do more than allow Cheiron to clean up and bandage his wounds before he headed to his bunk to collapse in exhaustion, Iolaus was pleasantly surprised the next morning when he walked into the mess, his injured left arm in a sling, and every one cheered him as they stood and applauded him for his heroism. Jason grinned broadly and clapped him on the back, congratulating him, Anton smiled so widely it looked like his cheeks must hurt. Voices called for the details, urging Iolaus to recount his adventures, and they all reacted with suitable admiration.
He was warmed by their praise, and for the first time, really felt like he was one of them. Not an outsider. Not someone different and generally despised by most of them. Or, at least that's how he had felt. Now, he relaxed under their praise, and even felt a little embarrassed by it, dipping his head and blushing unconsciously.
With all the excitement, Iolaus didn't notice right away that there was one voice missing, one person who hadn't congratulated him, or listened eagerly to the recounting of the battle. Only one voice, one person... the one person whose opinion meant the most to the blond cadet.
Hercules was conspicuous by his absence.
* * *
Once Iolaus realized Herc wasn't there, he frowned a bit, wondering why. It was only then that he realized that Hercules hadn't said a word to him on the way back, or last night and had been gone from the barracks by the time Iolaus had woken up that morning. Puzzled, wondering if something was wrong, Iolaus managed to extricate himself from his admirers, and went in search of his friend.
It took him a while, but he finally found Herc in the store room of their massive exercise hall, inventorying equipment and repairing that which needed attention.
"Here you are! Gods, Herc, I've been looking all over for you," Iolaus said with a smile, leaning against the doorframe.
Herc cast him a quick look, spared him a nod and went back to his work. Iolaus frowned, cocking his head a little as he studied his friend. There was no mistaking the hostility he'd seen in Hercules' eyes. "What's going on, Herc?" he asked quietly.
"I'm doing my chores, Iolaus," Hercules replied with a tone of strained patience. "That's what's going on."
"Yeah, right," Iolaus replied sarcastically as he straightened and moved into the large storage area. "You haven't said anything to me since yesterday. So, give...what's the problem?"
For a long moment, Hercules ignored him, but finally he laid down the ripped quiver he'd been repairing and said, his voice tight with anger, "Since when did you become one of Ares' warriors? Did you sell your soul to him so that you could be a big hero?"
Iolaus gasped a little, taken aback by the venom in Herc's voice and words, and then he hotly denied them. "Are you crazy? I never gave myself to Ares...I never would. What's wrong with you?"
Herc's eyes flashed up, cold and distant, and then he stood to look down on Iolaus. "I heard him yesterday, claiming you as one of his own, so don't lie to me. I believed in you, Iolaus, when hardly anyone else ever did. I never thought that you'd give yourself to him, I thought you were better than that. I guess I was wrong. They all think you're some kind of hero...but, it wasn't you who defeated those guys was it? It was Ares, and you won't even admit it."
Iolaus' mouth dropped open in shock, and Hercules made to brush past him, but recovering, the blond cadet grabbed his friend's arm to hold him back, to explain. "Herc, I swear, I...."
But, Hercules cut him off. "Save it, Iolaus. I don't want to hear it. In fact, I don't want to have anything more to do with you."
Roughly pulling his arm out of Iolaus' grip, Hercules stalked out of the hall. Stunned, Iolaus watched him go, feeling like he'd just been punched. Herc's words had hurt, had cut him to the heart. He kind of caved in on himself, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed as he stood with his arms tightly crossed over his chest, pushing the hurt down and away. All the joy he'd felt since rescuing those kids, all the warmth he'd felt from the sincere praise of the others drained away, leaving him feeling cold and empty. He sniffed once, and then brushed his eyes with impatience. Sighing, he straightened and walked out of the hall.
* * *
Hercules stormed across the courtyard, heading out of the compound and into the countryside beyond, needing nothing so much as to be alone. He'd never felt so betrayed in his life. Iolaus. Giving himself to Ares. How could his best friend have done that? Knowing what Ares was, knowing the emnity between him and Hercules, how could Iolaus have sworn himself to the God of War? Furious, hurt, angry beyond words, Hercules strode blindly across the fields. Finally, discouraged and feeling bereft, he stopped by a low stone fence and sat down on it, his head down, his elbows on his thighs.
"You are such a jerk," Ares said with contempt, appearing before Hercules, to stand with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of scorn on his face.
Furious, Hercules' head came up, his eyes flashing, more than ready to fight. "Yeah? Well, at least I'm not you."
Ares snorted with impatience and rolled his eyes. "That's a laugh. On your best day, you wouldn't have the strength to carry half of the responsibilities assigned to me." His eyes narrowing, Ares growled, "You are an arrogant, self-righteous, opinionated, self-absorbed prig..."
"Oh, right. I'm self-absorbed," Hercules scoffed sarcastically, cutting him off. "Isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black? If you don't get your own way, you start a war to get even."
"There you go, doing it again," Ares exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. "You claim to hate me because I'm the God of War, but you don't have any idea what you're talking about. I don't start wars. Men do. I don't kill anyone...men kill one another. Athena is the Goddess of War, but do you hate her? No, because you buy in to her superior than thou gig of wisdom and reason. She's cold, calculating and mechanistic," Ares grated, "but people die just the same."
"Oh, and you're not, I suppose...cold, and calculating, I mean?" Hercules sneered.
"No, smart guy, I am not cold," Ares snapped back, his eyes flashing. "I'm about the passions that drive men to fight for what they believe in. I'm about honour and faith in one's comrades. I'm about sacrificing oneself to save the life of someone else, to save those more vulnerable, weaker, less able to defend themselves." Agitated, Ares paced as he continued, his voice harsh, "I am not impressed with cold blooded killers, those who live only to destroy, though they pray to me and ask my favour. I despise those who make war on the innocent. But, you didn't know that did you? You made your own assumptions, and you condemned me without even bothering to find out if your assumptions are true. You are such an idiot."
Hercules rolled his eyes. "What? I'm supposed you see you as some kind of victim? Or some glorious embodiment of heroism?" the demigod demanded, his voice tight with exasperation and contempt.
"I don't care two dinars what you think of me," Ares replied coldly. "But, today, you ripped the heart out of someone who didn't deserve it, based once again on your own assumption of guilt without bothering with any of the facts. And you claim to have been his friend. Some friend."
"Well, it figures you'd defend someone who'd sold their soul to you," Hercules growled, his hands curling into fists, angry to be challenged for what he'd said to Iolaus, not happy to have been overheard. "I heard you say you'd be watching him...I guess you meant it."
The God of War studied his half-brother in silence for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was quietly, almost as if he were lecturing a child. "You are a fool, Hercules. Iolaus saved the lives of two children yesterday, at the risk of his own life...and he very nearly paid for his bravery with his life's blood. I did nothing to help him. He did it all himself. Your friend is an honourable and courageous man. He has sought no favour from me, ever. Because of you, he also sees me as the hateful personification of evil and he'd die before he would ask my help."
Thinking about what Ares had just said, Hercules was beginning to wonder if he'd accused Iolaus unjustly...just as he had the day before in the hall, when Cheiron had chastened him and Jason, telling them they should get their facts straight before making judgments. Looking away, he bit his lip, but then Hercules wondered if he could trust anything Ares told him. Turning back, he protested, "I heard you say that he's now one of yours."
Ares paused a moment, his eyes narrowed, his voice oddly strained when he continued, "He is mine...just as you are, just as any warrior who fights with nobility and passion, with courage and honour, and compassion is one of mine. What gives me pain is the knowledge that I might someday be forced to do him harm as you and I battle over our mutual antipathy for one another. He will stand by your side, whether you deserve it or not, and one day his loyalty will likely cost him his life. I wonder if you'll even notice."
Stung by that, Hercules lunged to his feet, as if he was going to attack Ares, make him take those words back. But, Ares held a hand up, palm toward Hercules, commanding his attention, as he said with heavy contempt, "I despise you, Hercules, for many reasons. But, today, most of all I despise you for wounding an honourable man more deeply than did his attackers yesterday. I have to wonder if you're just jealous, that for once he's the one who is being justifiably praised, instead of just standing in your shadow like a good little sidekick is supposed to do. You disgust me."
Without waiting for a response, Ares vanished in a flash of flame and smoke, leaving Hercules staring at the spot where he had been.
Thinking about what Ares had just said, not wanting to believe him. Why would Ares bother to confront him over his treatment of Iolaus? What did Iolaus matter to him?
"You're one of mine, now. I'll be watching you..." The remembered words echoed in the demigod's mind. Was it possible that Ares had meant it? That he was looking out for 'one of his own', having the chance to intervene because this was 'family', because he could chastise Hercules without being charged with undue intervention in the affairs of mortals?
Hercules wanted to believe that Ares was just using this as an excuse to give him a hard time, but, if Ares had spoken the truth, then Hercules had lashed out at Iolaus, in blind anger, seeking to wound out of his own sense of abandonment, when Iolaus had done nothing wrong...had, in fact, only done everything right. He'd saved those kids, and he'd had to have known when he engaged in battle with the outlaws that the odds were against him. But, he'd done it anyway.
Because it was the right thing to do.
Because he really was a hero.
"What have I done?" Hercules whispered to himself, appalled by the way he'd behaved, wishing he could take it all back.
* * *
Iolaus had wandered back to the barracks after Hercules had stormed off. It was the one place in the Academy where he could just about be guaranteed not to run into anyone else at that time of day. He sat on his bunk, thinking about what Hercules had said, how he'd acted, and he didn't know whether to be hurt or angry. But, finally what he decided was that he did know he didn't want to be here when Herc got back.
Iolaus reached under the bunk and pulled out his battered carrysack in which he kept his meagre personal possessions. Straightening with a sigh, he hitched it over his shoulder and headed out the back way. With luck, he wouldn't run into anyone before he got to the narrow gate in the rear wall of the Academy.
* * *
When Hercules crested the hill overlooking the Academy, his eyes were caught by something...the glint of sun on gold. He'd know that curly blond hair anywhere. Iolaus was crossing the fields on the far side of the Academy, heading in the opposite direction. He was striding rapidly, almost jogging, toward the forest in the distance.
Hercules' throat tightened when he realized what was happening. Iolaus was taking off...and if he disappeared like this, the conditions of his freedom would be violated. He'd be hunted and thrown into prison. Gods...if Iolaus got to the forest before Herc could catch him, the demigod would never be able to follow his trail.
Hercules broke into a run, racing as fast as he ever had in his life, knowing that this was one race he absolutely had to win. He had to catch Iolaus before his buddy crossed the ever narrowing distance separating him from the far trees.
Oblivious to the fact that his departure had been observed, Iolaus moved with a determined, ground eating stride. He'd almost made it to the edge of the forest when he heard the sound of feet pounding up behind him. He whirled around to face whoever was bearing down upon him, surprised to see that it was Hercules.
Without a word, Iolaus wheeled back toward the forest and kept going.
"Iolaus, wait!" Hercules called out. But, Iolaus' stride didn't falter. Catching him, Herc grabbed his right arm, to pull him to halt as he drew in great gulps of air, needing to settle his breathing before he could talk.
Iolaus stopped, but wouldn't look at the demigod. "What do you want? Was there something you forgot to say earlier? Some name you forgot to call me?" he asked, his voice bitter, with echoes of pain beneath the toughness.
Finally, getting his breath, Hercules said with all the sincerity he could muster, "Iolaus...I owe you an apology. I was wrong and way out of line. You deserve better from me."
Iolaus turned to him, anger glittering in his eyes. "You're damned right, I do. We're supposed to be best friends, Hercules. But, do you trust me? No. You refuse to listen to me and call me a liar. Well, I don't need friends like that."
Hercules swallowed, then murmured with quiet contrition, "I'm sorry...really, really sorry."
Iolaus looked at him, his expression bleak. "What made you suddenly decide you were wrong?"
It seemed that Hercules could look at anything but him, as the demigod's eyes fell to the ground then came back up to skitter around the countryside. "A little while ago, Ares showed up to blast me. He called me a jerk, an idiot and a fool." Herc swallowed once, then continued with a tight voice, "He accused me of being arrogant, self-righteous and self-absorbed...and of being jealous of you."
"Uh huh," Iolaus grunted, for once in full agreement with the God of War.
Herc's eyes came back to his, a slight frown between his brows, worry in his eyes. "I hate it when he's right."
Iolaus snorted, and shook his head. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed. "So, you'll believe him but you wouldn't believe me."
"I was wrong," Hercules replied. "Gods, Iolaus...I heard what he said to you yesterday, and I felt as if my world had exploded. I...I felt as if you'd abandoned me, turned your back on me by joining with him. I should have have known better."
"Yes, you should have," Iolaus lectured hotly. "But, I guess being as self absorbed and self righteous as you are, you're bound to make the odd mistake. Dammit, Herc, don't you ever treat me like that again."
Hercules brows arched and he pushed a nervous hand through his hair. If Iolaus was yelling at him, things would probably be alright. The time to worry was when Iolaus was coldly silent. He sighed and tried a tentative half smile, "So...you'll forgive me for being stupid?"
Iolaus threw him a disgusted look, and bit his lip, then said grudgingly, "Alright, I'll forgive you this time. Ares always makes you crazy, so I guess I can understand how you'd misconstrue what he'd said."
Iolaus turned to head back toward the Academy, and Hercules fell in beside him, looping one arm across his friend's shoulders. Iolaus rolled his eyes at the friendly gesture, but then relented and gave Herc a lopsided grin. "Jealous? He said you were jealous of me?"
'Trust Iolaus to remember that part,' Hercules thought with a grimace. "Yeah, that's what he said."
"Well, that was pretty dumb on his part. Why would you ever be jealous of me?" Iolaus replied, but though his words were disparaging, his tone held an element of wonder.
Herc pulled him up again, and turned Iolaus to face him, hands on his buddy's shoulders as he gazed into his eyes. "I was wrong, I was stupid and I jumped to conclusions. I was hurt and angry. But, I was never jealous. Gods, Iolaus, what you did was great and you deserve all the praise anyone can give you for the courage you showed yesterday. You could have been killed."
Herc dropped his hands, and looked away. "All the way there, while Cheiron and I were running as fast as we could go, I was so afraid of...of finding you hurt," the demigod said softly, his throat tight with remembered fear. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Iolaus, saying with heartfelt sincerity, "You're a hero, Iolaus, and I'm proud to be your friend."
Iolaus found he had to swallow hard and look away from the intensity of respect and admiration he saw in Hercules' eyes. "You'd've done the same thing if you'd been there," he said, denying that he'd done anything special or unique.
"Gods, I hope so," Hercules said with feeling. "But, that doesn't change the fact that you risked your life for those kids." He looped his arm across Iolaus' shoulders again, turning his friend back toward the Academy, drawing him along as he continued, "The way you faked out those guys, getting three of them to come to you, so that you could take them out one by one, was brilliant. You've got to teach me how to move that quietly...I've never gotten the hang of it."
Iolaus snorted, as he replied, "Well, it's hard to move quietly when your feet are as big as boats, you move with all the lumbering grace of a cow, and...."
Hercules punched him lightly on the arm in retaliation for the insult. Iolaus called out, "Hey!" as he danced away, and then they both broke into laughter, challenging one another to a race back to the Academy.
Ares watched them go, racing like children across the grass, light-hearted and secure once again in their friendship. He smiled a little sadly to himself, knowing that it was unlikely they would ever find common ground with him. But, they were still his, whether they wanted to be or not. Brave, honourable, courageous, unafraid of risking it all for what they believed in. He was the God of War, and he valued warriors like them, prized them dearly when they represented the best that mortals could be.
'Well,' he thought to himself, 'it'll be interesting to see what kind of trouble they get themselves into in the years ahead. Too bad that they've decided we're enemies. It might have been amusing to....'
But, he cut off his line of thought. His head high, his eyes narrowed a little, the wind in his hair, he stood proud and beautiful in the morning light...it didn't matter what they thought. He was the God of War, and he knew what he stood for. War could be ugly and often was brutal, but where there are depths, there are also heights...and war brought out the best in men, perhaps because in war, illusions, masks, uncertainties were stripped away, and men had to finally decide what they stood for, what they would actually die for. It was that fatal moment which defined who and what they really were.
Ares represented all who went to war...but he only loved those who were true heroes, those who fought and risked death that others might live.
Finis
Disclaimer: I usually write a pretty brutal Ares, but in fairness, there is another perspective. The conflict between himself and Hercules was as much or more because of the demigod's animosity as it was because of Ares' nature. This story is an acknowledgement of the decent side of the God of War, in tribute and remembrance of Kevin Smith, the man who brought Ares to life so vibrantly, gloriously and credibly that the God of War became an integral and essential character in the modern day recounting of the myth of Hercules, Iolaus and their adventures in Ancient Greece. It is the raw power, the larger than life presence, the energy and passion that Kevin Smith brought to the characterization of Ares that lets me get away with writing such an aggressive character credibly. He was a great actor, as well as an incredibly decent, warm, and kind man. There are no words to express how very sorry I am that he is gone.