A/N Well here we are at the start of another one! Thank you to everyone who took the time and trouble to review the last chapter of Promises To Keep. I hope you like this one as much.
As this follows on in a direct line from Invictus, Where The Wind Blows and Promises To Keep it will probably make more sense to read them first ;-)
Anyway please let me know what you think.
Child Of Fortune
Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance.
Virgil
It was dusk when Hercules slipped back in through the well concealed entrance to the cave they had taken shelter in four days earlier and deposited his armful of grubbed up roots and berries by the dwindling fire. Eyeing the small stack of firewood speculatively he grimaced, knowing that he would have to go on a mission to collect more before the evening was over if they did not want the fire to burn out in the night. The task of collecting wood had fallen to him ever since they had set up camp here aided by Asopus, Pammon and Belos, the three soldiers of Dion's command who had accompanied them.
Asopus was a nice enough lad Hercules supposed, although his incessant cheerfulness and constant chatter tended to grate on the burly wrestler's nerves. Pammon, on the other hand, was the polar opposite: dour and silent to the point where Hercules had begun to wonder if he didn't know how to speak – answering only in grunts. Hercules found himself chattering on whenever he was with Pammon just to fill the uncomfortable silences. Belos was somewhere between his two comrades in character but the bulky man found he still could not warm to the man; could not forget that this was the soldier who had referred to Jason as a "moonstruck boy" and ridiculed what Hercules' young friend had been saying.
Jason had been right though; the Amphigeneians had been in the Palace already – which they had all learned to their cost. How had he known it though? Hercules shuddered to think. What Jason had been saying hadn't really seemed to make much sense at the time and it had only been the trust that the burly wrestler had in his friend that had stopped him from reacting in the same way as Belos.
Hercules eyed the stack of wood again, even as he sat down to warm himself, trying to work out whether he would need to go out again sooner rather than later. He hoped not to be honest; a storm was brewing and the thought of collecting firewood in the worst of it was not appealing. There was no way of knowing just how quickly the storm would blow itself out once it had struck though so perhaps it would be better to go out now.
He grimaced again. Somehow it didn't seem fair that the menial tasks kept falling to him but who else was going to do them? Asking the King to collect firewood or grub up roots for dinner or seek out the medicinal herbs that Pythagoras said they needed did not seem like a viable possibility. Minos had retreated into a dark silence ever since they had arrived here; the last hours in the city finally catching up with him. He had hardly left his wife's side and only really spoke to demand an update on her condition from the weary Pythagoras or to ask if there was any sign of his daughter and stepson joining them.
As for the others, Dion was busy trying to ensure that they were not discovered by any Amphigeneian patrols who happened to venture near Dodona. The sensible thing would be for them to keep moving of course, at least until they had some plan for what they would do next, but that was simply not an option with the Queen in her current state. Hercules sighed. The wound that the Queen had suffered was a serious one and even four days later she was very weak – very ill – as a result. Pythagoras was doing his best to treat her (aided by Melas, whose help was both practical and spiritual – his prayers for the Queen seemed to be helping the King to cope, which could only be a good thing as far as Hercules could see) and to encourage the injury to heal but the truth was that without access to proper medical supplies and equipment, and away from the comforts of a decent bed where Pasiphae might rest and regain her strength, her recovery was going to be hindered – if she recovered at all.
That was something that didn't bear thinking about, Hercules decided grimly. He had no real love lost for the Queen (with good reason as far as he was concerned) but he could only imagine how guilty Jason would feel if that happened. After all Pasiphae had been injured sacrificing herself for the young man. Hercules frowned deeply. When they had first been called to the Palace and Jason had learned of his parents' identities the burly wrestler had been afraid of the Queen's intentions. It had seemed impossible that she had simply wanted to know her son; had seemed far more likely to the big man that she had an ulterior and dubious motive; that she had wanted to use Jason for her own personal gain.
When the young man had been poisoned Hercules had been forced to reassess his position slightly. Pasiphae had clearly been worried (and he had been forced to accept that it was not just because whatever she was planning might have been placed in jeopardy) and had completely ignored custom and convention in order to comfort her sick son. Even then though he would never have imagined that she would dream of stepping in between Jason and an attacker; would take a potentially fatal arrow meant for her son; had not believed that the bond between them would be so deep – that she would love the boy that much. It spoke of a depth of feeling that Hercules could never have imagined possible.
He sighed. If the Queen loved Jason that deeply then how did his friend feel about her? Hercules had a sneaking suspicion that the bond went both ways. Jason was essentially a loving boy (even if he wasn't as demonstrative as Pythagoras under normal circumstances) and the deep seated longing that Hercules knew he harboured for a family of his own combined with a poor sense of self-worth would make him more vulnerable than anyone who didn't know him quite so well would expect. Add to that a tendency to feel guilty for anything that happened to those he loved (whether it really was his fault or not) and Hercules suspected that wherever he was right now his friend's emotional state was probably less than stable. He sighed again. Jason already carried too much guilt and too many troubles on his shoulders without adding anything else to it.
If Pasiphae were to die from this wound, Hercules could well imagine that the boy would never really get over it. He had only really had his mother returned to him recently and had accepted her into his life even more recently than that. Losing her again right now might very well destroy him. Well Hercules wasn't about to let that happen! He and his two young friends had been through too much together to contemplate losing either one of them now – whether it was to a real threat or to his own demons. Having seen Jason come close to giving in to the shadows that haunted him in the past, Hercules knew only too well where his friend's weaknesses lay. He shuddered.
Of course thinking about what had happened at Proerosia brought other, darker, thoughts to Hercules' mind. Both the boys had been through so much in their short lives – it hardly seemed fair that they seemed destined to go through any more. But when had the Gods ever been fair? The burly wrestler was rapidly coming to the conclusion that being noticed by the Gods at all was not a good idea; far better to live out your life quietly and without the resultant danger that any association with the pantheon seemed to bring. Then again if what the Oracle had said was right (and Hercules had no reason to doubt that it was) Jason's life had been shaped by the Gods since before he was born; he owed his very existence to them and really had no chance at all of avoiding their attention. That meant that anyone who regularly associated themselves with him would also come to the attention of the Gods but Hercules wasn't about to let that stop him from trying to help his friend, no matter how much danger he ended up in as a result. He would follow Jason no matter what the cost just for the chance to protect the boy.
Hercules sighed pensively. There was a time, not so very long ago, when he wouldn't have followed anyone anywhere; a time when he wouldn't have put himself out for anyone and certainly would never have dreamed of placing himself into harm's way. He remembered the first day the dark haired lad had arrived in Atlantis, wide eyed and nervous. Hercules had somewhat sharply informed him that he did not want to know his story; did not care whether Jason was a good man and whether he was being unjustly hunted by the guards; that he was not about to risk his neck for anyone and had curtly ordered Pythagoras to make sure Jason left as quickly as he had arrived. Although the memory made him cringe the bulky wrestler couldn't help but smile a little too. Pythagoras had forever been bringing home waifs and strays to be looked after or nursed back to health but he'd never brought anything else back that was quite as large as Jason – or quite as welcome when it came down to it. Not that Hercules had thought that at the time of course; he'd been more anxious to return to his regular routine – to return to the tavern.
He sighed again. He'd wasted half his life in taverns; propping up the bar and telling tall tales of his own heroism. Deep down though he'd always known that he wasn't really a hero; that the stories he'd told of his feats of courage or athleticism were just that – stories that he'd made up to impress other people; to fool himself. But he knew the real thing when he saw it too; knew what a real hero looked like – and knew that Jason was a hero (even if he suspected the lad didn't actually realise it himself); knew that the boy was that special. Somehow he couldn't help but hope that if he followed his friend (no matter how ridiculous the task might be) that one day he'd become the man he'd always claimed to be.
He worried at a thumbnail and peered deep into the flames. Both the boys were special in their own ways and Hercules had made it his job – his mission in life – to protect them and make sure that they remained that way. That was, of course, the reason for his increasingly foul mood over the last few days. Pythagoras was safe enough for the present (as long as the Amphigeneians didn't find them that was) and was where Hercules could keep an eye on him but Jason was still out there somewhere. They had expected him to find his way to them quickly – particularly if Melas was to be believed and the Oracle would be guiding him – but so far there had been no sign. What if he hadn't managed to escape the city? What if he had been injured or captured? Hercules' frown deepened. Although he knew that there really was nothing else he could have done – no way he could have crossed the Temple to join his friend in the wake of the Amphigeneian assault – he somehow couldn't help feeling as though he had failed Jason.
"Is everything alright?"
Hercules turned at Pythagoras' softly uttered question.
"How can you ask that?" he demanded crossly. "We shouldn't have let ourselves be separated from him."
"Jason will be fine," Pythagoras answered calmly. "He is more than capable of looking after himself. If there is anyone who can bring the Princess and the Oracle here safely it is him."
Hercules snorted incredulously.
"He's almost as useless at looking after himself as you are," he groused. "He's got no sense of self-preservation whatsoever and about as much common sense as a week old kitten! He'll throw himself into the first fight that comes along and there'll be no-one there to protect him from himself!"
"Hercules I am as worried as you are," Pythagoras said sharply, "but there is no point in getting upset."
"I'm not worried," Hercules interrupted quickly. "You know I don't get worried about either of you boys."
"Of course not," Pythagoras murmured ironically. He sighed softly and poked the fire. "We must trust Jason. He will join us as soon as he is able."
"But what if he's been captured?" Hercules rumbled. "What if he never managed to make it out of the city? We should be going to find him not sitting around here uselessly."
Pythagoras bit his lip.
"I cannot leave," he admitted quietly. "The Queen is not yet well enough to be left. If you go I will not be able to come with you."
Hercules instantly felt awful. Of course there was no way the young genius could leave the Queen while her health was so precarious. The boy was a born healer after all; could never leave anything injured if there was any way he could help it. Yet his love for his friends meant that he must be just as desperate to find Jason as Hercules was.
"I'm not asking you to," he said contritely. "And I'm not about to leave you on your own with them." He nodded across the fire to the far side of the cave where the King sat quietly holding his wife's hand and watching her sleep.
"They would not do anything to hurt me," the mathematician objected quietly. "Even if they wanted to… which I do not believe that they do… the Queen is simply not well enough and the King is too concerned about both her and Ariadne."
"Maybe," Hercules acknowledged, "but if anything were to happen to Pasiphae it might be a different story."
"I do not believe that," Pythagoras answered. "The King may be misguided at times and may not understand the problems of the people… is a little out of touch… but I do not believe he is needlessly cruel."
"Hmm," Hercules rumbled noncommittally. "He might not mean to but grief does funny things to people." He hesitated and looked across the fire towards the royal couple. "How is she anyway?"
"Weak… and in pain. She asks for Jason whenever she is awake." The young genius sighed. "I never thought I would be saying this but I have come to believe that she really does love him."
"Yeah," Hercules agreed. "It goes against the grain to think it but she was willing to die for him."
"Jason is special," Pythagoras murmured.
"He has a way with him certainly," Hercules responded. "But it won't help him if Anaxandros gets his hands on him."
"He runs like the wind Hercules," Pythagoras said. "He has saved our lives more times than I can count. They will not catch him."
"So he'll be fine then," Hercules proclaimed with fake assurance.
"Yes," Pythagoras agreed in the same falsely bright manner.
"He'll probably come bounding in at any moment with some story of how he and the others escaped the Amphigeneians," Hercules went on. "He's probably on his way here right now."
The two men turned and stared at the mouth of the cave hopefully for a few long moments. No-one entered and the air outside was still and quiet. Eventually they both looked away, silence hanging uncomfortably between them, all too aware of the fact that the third member of their trio was missing.
"Did you check the markers?" Pythagoras asked in a more subdued tone.
"Yeah," Hercules answered. "They're all intact. There's no sign that Jason's even been close enough to see them… Besides you know that if he had he'd have found us by now."
"Yes," Pythagoras sighed. "Yes he would."
Hercules slapped the flat of his hand down on the ground in frustration.
"I can't just sit here," he declared. "I have to do something."
"And what exactly do you propose we do?" Pythagoras asked. "If Jason escaped the city he will be heading for Dodona… Melas is certain that he Oracle will guide him here. But we cannot know the route he will take or what hurdles he may be facing. All we can really do is wait."
"That's if the Oracle is still with him," Hercules grumbled morosely. "We can't know if they're still together… and if she isn't then Jason might not know where we are."
"The last I saw of Jason he was with both the Oracle and the Princess," Pythagoras argued. "I saw them get out of the Temple together. We have to believe that they are still together."
"And if they're not?"
"What do you propose we do then? Go thrashing around in the woods with no idea of where to look? If the Amphigeneians have sent out patrols we might lead them straight here."
"Go back to Atlantis. Start searching for him there."
"It would be madness Hercules," Pythagoras said sharply. "We do not know that Jason is still there and we might easily be trapped in the city… and if anyone realised we had been with the King and Queen in the Temple… the risk is too great. If one of us were to go alone then perhaps we might have more chance but it would not be prudent for us to split up… and what if Jason has escaped and comes here? You know as well as I do that he would come searching for us in Atlantis… and Anaxandros will be looking for him even if he is not looking for us."
"I know," Hercules growled. "I know all that… but I cannot simply do nothing." He sighed. "You cannot leave the Queen at the moment and I cannot leave you. I'll give Jason until tomorrow night… but if he hasn't found us by then I'm going looking for him whether you like it or not."
He stood up and stalked towards the back of the cave where they had laid out the cloaks to make a sleeping area. Pythagoras watched him go with a heavy heart. Then he turned back to look at the entrance to the cave once more.
"Come on Jason," he murmured. "Where are you?"
Jason half scrambled, half slid down an embankment between the trees and buried himself in the bushes at the bottom, breathing hard. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to try to outrun an Amphigeneian patrol? Not that he couldn't do it under normal circumstances but right now he was really feeling the fact that he simply wasn't as fit as he was used to being. His chest burned from the effort of running so far and so fast and his side was on fire. He grimaced. If Pythagoras were here he would undoubtedly notice the way Jason had been favouring his side for the last four days and insist on doing a thorough examination and strapping his ribs properly. Of course if Pythagoras were with him he wouldn't have made it through a day without the injury being noticed much less four. But Pythagoras was not with him; Pythagoras was still (hopefully) somewhere out there with Hercules and the King and Queen (he really couldn't afford to think of them as his mother and stepfather right now – couldn't allow himself that much emotion), waiting for Ariadne and him to join them.
As things were there really had been no time whatsoever to stop to treat broken ribs. Not that there was really much that could be done if they were treated. The best that even Pythagoras would be able to do was strap them and give him some sort of painkilling tonic. The only other real remedy was rest. Well that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, Jason thought humourlessly. Not unless they wanted to be caught. Far better right now for him to try to ignore the fact that he was hurting and simply get on with things. There was no need to mention it; it would only worry his companions and really there was nothing they could do to make it any better right now.
"This way!"
Jason tried to still his breathing, making himself as quiet and motionless as possible as the soldiers from the Amphigeneian patrol came into view. He had hoped that he had managed to put a little more distance between himself and them but he supposed that as long as no-one had actually seen which way he had gone it would be good enough. Peering anxiously through the leaves of the bush he could see the soldiers drawing nearer, randomly poking their swords into bushes and peering about themselves without much enthusiasm. As one of them came close Jason's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, resting on the ground alongside him. He didn't have much hope that he would be able to fight so many of them off alone if it came down to it but he supposed he would have to at least try.
The soldier approaching seemed to be the officer for the patrol and appeared to be more enthusiastic than his men about finding the young man they had seen fleeing through the woods. He peered more closely at the bush Jason was tucked into, seeming to sense that there was something different about it. Jason crouched as still as a stone. The green cloak that Meriones had insisted he wore would provide some camouflage, allowing him to blend in a little more with his surroundings, but it wouldn't hide him from a determined search. A cough threatened to bubble up from his chest but he ruthlessly suppressed it. Not now. This was most definitely not the time for his body to betray him.
"Sir!"
The distant shout made the officer turn to face the soldier who was calling him.
"What?" he growled.
"We've found the remains of a camp," the second soldier stated, pointing back down the small gully they were in in the opposite direction to the one Jason had come from.
The officer sneered.
"What are you waiting for then?" he barked. "Let's go," he ordered the other men in his patrol.
Once the patrol had gone Jason heaved a sigh of relief, wrapping his arm around himself to rest lightly over his damaged ribcage as a sharp stab of pain assaulted him. Whoever the camp that the Amphigeneians had discovered had belonged to, he hoped they were long gone. At least the enemy were heading away from where he had left the others though; at least it meant that Ariadne and the Oracle would be safe.
It should have been easy once they had escaped the city – but then when had his life ever been easy, Jason thought with a little bitterness; certainly not since he had arrived in Atlantis. Once they had escaped through the smugglers tunnel and into the woods it should only have been a short journey to Dodona – a few hours at most – and then they would have been reunited with family and friends. As it was though there had been far more Amphigeneian soldiers in the woods than any of them had been expecting and most of the last four days had been spent trying to evade the enemy patrols, each of them unwilling to approach Dodona directly if there was any chance of them drawing the enemy down on the heads of those waiting for them.
There was really no telling if the King was still at Dodona anyway. Logic should have dictated that Minos and those with him kept moving to evade capture. Since Dion was one of that party it seemed sensible that he would be the one taking the tactical decisions and his first thoughts would always be for the safety of the King. Yet Jason knew that Pasiphae had been injured and he was fairly certain it had been serious. He had seen the arrow pierce her after all and had seen her being carried away from the battle for the Temple unmoving in Hercules' arms. There was really no telling whether she would be well enough to move or even whether she was still alive. Don't go there, Jason ruthlessly told himself feeling his breath catch and a sob begin to force its way out of his throat. He couldn't do this; couldn't allow himself to feel or to think of the possible consequences of the wound for his mother; had to be able to think and function as normal for the sake of his companions; had to be capable of fighting if he needed to and of planning a way for them to meet up with their family and friends.
Yet worry ate at him in the still of the night; guilt gnawing at his stomach. His mother had sacrificed herself for him. There was no getting away from that simple fact. Somehow he couldn't quite get his head around her actions and, even though he had seen it happen himself, there was a sense of unreality to everything that had happened over the last four days – as though it was all a particularly bad dream that he just couldn't seem to wake up from. Deep down he knew that her action had been an act of love – deep love – but he really didn't feel worthy of it. He had done nothing but bring trouble into the lives of everyone he had met since arriving in Atlantis; did not really believe he had ever done anything to be worthy of the love and devotion that his friends (and now his mother) had shown him.
After all it was his fault that Pasiphae had been injured in the first place. If he had just been paying a bit more attention to what was going on around him he might have noticed that archer; if he had just been a little quicker… It didn't seem fair that his mother would be suffering (if indeed the wound had not proved fatal – and he had to supress another sob that tried to force its way out unbidden at the thought) for his mistakes. In the day when he was busy trying to keep the little group he was with hidden and safe from the Amphigeneians he could avoid thinking about it – could force the guilt from his mind. In the still of the night though, when he was on solitary watch or lying still on a blanket pretending to be asleep for the sake of his companions, the thoughts rolled round and round in his head biting at him; the shame of his own failures and the remorse engendered by them crawling up into his brain and refusing to let him rest.
Not that he was able to sleep all that much anyway to be completely honest. Ever since they had escaped from the city in the wake of the final Amphigeneian assault the insomnia that Pythagoras had been patiently defeating over the previous couple of months had returned in full force. It was a reaction to stress – Jason was well aware of that fact but it didn't make it any easier to combat in the short term. When you added to that the fact that his side ached (a constant throb from his ribcage that occasionally flared into spikes of fire that burned through him) and prevented him from truly achieving a comfortable position, sleeping peacefully was always going to be difficult.
What little sleep he had been able to find had been troubled, dark nightmares from his past or strange and apparently random images that he didn't recognise tormenting and disturbing him – images of Ariadne, beautiful as ever in her court dress, on her knees and screaming at the sky, a knife in her grasp, the blade and her hands coated in blood; of Minos being dragged towards the brazen bull as Anaxandros looked on, gloating; of his friends lying terrifyingly still, their skin marble pale and their clothes splashed with blood. The last image rose unbidden to his mind once again and made him shiver even in the middle of the day.
Tiredness was making him snappy and preventing him from thinking as clearly as he should. Jason knew it but simply did not know what to do about it. He was tired, sore and afraid but out here there was little that he could do to relieve any of it. More than ever he needed the support of his two friends; needed Pythagoras to produce one of those tonics that he always seemed to conjure up no matter where they were to take the edge off any pain or help him to sleep; needed the steady reassurance of Hercules, not always delivered in the manner he might like but always in the manner that he needed; needed the comfort of a hand on his shoulder or back – the little casual touches that he had never really known before coming to Atlantis but had come to take for granted here; needed the constant banter that seemed to make life more bearable no matter how dire the situation; needed their strength to bolster him so that just for a minute he could drop the act and stop having to be strong and stoic himself.
It had almost been a relief when the Amphigeneian patrol had stumbled worryingly close to the camp they had set up. Without stopping to wait for agreement from the others he had taken off into the trees, making as much noise as he could to alert the enemy to his presence without being too obvious about it and making them wonder whether he was trying to lead them away from anyone and anything. Trusting Nisos to protect the two women (and knowing that Ariadne was more than capable of defending herself with her bow – and hadn't that been a surprise… who knew that the beautiful and serene Princess of Atlantis was a good archer who fought like a demon when the situation demanded it?) he had charged off through the bushes as fast as he could manage, relying on his flying feet to get him out of the danger he had knowingly and deliberately placed himself in.
He would make his way back to them soon. The sounds of the Amphigeneian patrol had long since vanished, leaving the woods peaceful. Somewhere nearby a bird began to sing. Jason let his head drop back against the bank he was resting against and closed his eyes. Just a few more minutes, he decided; a few more minutes to allow himself to get his mask back into place; to allow him to convince his companions that all was well. The effects of his long run were beginning to catch up on him, exhaustion making his limbs feel heavy, weighted down as if they were attached to boulders. A cold wind rippled through the branches of the trees, catching at the leaves of the bush he was currently lodged in and making him shiver. Jason automatically pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself, knowing that he would have to make a move soon or risk falling asleep where he sat.
The breeze caught at the back of his throat and drew a sharp cough from his lungs. Jason doubled over, his forehead resting against his knees as he tried to manage the sudden spike of pain from his side; the feeling that a dozen knives were being stabbed sharply into his ribs. Oh yeah he'd forgotten that coughing with broken ribs was so much fun, he thought sarcastically. For a moment he rested there, curled in on himself as he tried to will himself back into some semblance of wellness; to fool his body into believing that all was well (even though he knew it patently wasn't). It was only a couple of broken ribs and a bit of a cough, he thought crossly. Nothing serious or life threatening, and it annoyed him that such a relatively minor thing had the power to rob him of his strength so utterly.
It was annoying really, the way that his body refused to believe his attempts to convince himself that all was well. Annoying that such a minor problem could drive him to his knees, making his stomach roll and his head swim. Jason growled to himself as he forced himself back upright, the scream in his ribs abating enough to allow him to focus on something other than the pain and the light-headedness fading once more. More exhausted than ever he forced himself to his feet, knowing that Ariadne would be worrying; wanting to come searching for him if he was gone for too much longer. That would, of course, place her in unnecessary danger – a risk he was unwilling to take.
Drawing on the last of his reserves the young man set off at a trot once more. The stream he had spotted from the top of the embankment might provide him with a little cover he decided as he pushed his way out of the bush. At least it would mask his footprints. Soon enough he was soaked to the knees with a mixture of ice cold water and sticky mud, the cold seeming to seep into his bones. He hurried on as fast as the slippery rocks beneath his feet would allow him to without falling, water splashing higher up his legs and soaking the hem of his cloak too.
To distract himself from how truly miserable he was feeling, Jason started to let himself think about what would happen when he saw his friends again (even as he resolutely kept his mind away from thoughts of his mother and the worry and guilt that those thoughts would bring). Pythagoras might fuss but it would be borne of affection – as would Hercules' gruffness. Jason would even take a lecture from the older man if it just meant that they were all together again.
He had no doubts that he would find them – not really. If the Queen were as badly injured as he suspected he doubted that their party would have managed to travel far from Dodona. That was why he had been insisting on taking such a circuitous route to get there – to avoid leading the enemy directly to his friends. The patrol he had just evaded was the first they had seen for over a day, however. It seemed that the Amphigeneians were pulling back into Atlantis to consolidate their hold there before they began searching the woods properly for any fugitives. Perhaps it was time for him to lead his little group towards their destination; time to trust his instincts that were currently telling him that he had a short window of opportunity to find his friends before the Amphigeneian net drew around them again.
Even if his friends had moved on from Dodona itself (and he had no real doubt that they would have sought a safe shelter somewhere – would not be camped out in the open in the grove itself) it would not present any real problem. Hercules had long since taught both his friends his own personal marker system for if they were ever separated and needed to find one another – devised for the occasions when they were out hunting or had taken a job that led them away from Atlantis. It was generally made up of a varying number of sticks and pinecones placed into the hollows of tree trunks or crevices in rocks in a particular formation to indicate the direction he had travelled in and how far he was planning to go before the next marker. It was a system that was both simple and effective and meant something only to the three men using it. Any outsider would not be able to decipher the meaning of the apparently random distribution of naturally occurring items and would probably overlook it altogether – particularly as they would not know to search the hollows of trees for the signs. To Jason, however, it was a good as having a map; a signpost that would lead directly to his friends.
He splashed on through the muddy stream. Presently he came to a place where the ground was firmer – drier – and he could get out without leaving footprints in the mud as a clear marker to his presence. Climbing up onto the bank he shook himself, trying to shake off some of the water that was currently weighing down the hem of his cloak and grimacing at the thickly caked slimy mud that clung to his feet and legs, coating the bottom of his trousers. Then he turned and started to trot in the direction of the camp where he had left the others. It was time to gather everyone up and go to find his friends.
Ariadne paced the small gulley where they had set up camp the night before restlessly. Near the fire the Oracle sat deep in prayer, her hood pulled up over her head while her hands were busy with a small box she had produced from somewhere within her robes which contained all the items necessary to help her complete her devotions to the Gods. Ariadne flashed her an irritated glare. How, after everything that had happened over the last few days, could the Oracle sit there so calmly? As untouched and untouchable as ever. Didn't she care at all that Jason had run off into danger? That he'd been gone for far too long?
The Princess stopped. Truth be told she was furious at Jason for darting off before they could come up with a sensible plan. Furious and worried. No matter how much he might be trying to pretend that he was fine she knew better; knew him too well. What had happened to Pasiphae was hitting him hard and despite the fact that Ariadne had no love for her stepmother she supposed she could understand it. After all how would she feel if it were her father? Jason had only just begun to get to know his mother but had quickly formed a bond with her. Ariadne wondered about that. It had almost happened too quickly but she supposed that if she had grown up as an orphan, finding that a parent she had believed dead was actually alive would be something wondrous to her and that she might be desperate to form an attachment herself. Plus Pasiphae had treated Jason with a gentleness that the Princess had never seen from the Queen before. Over the past couple of months Ariadne had increasingly seen the bereft mother who hid inside Pasiphae and had been forced to acknowledge that her stepmother desperately wanted the chance to form a bond with her son. Since Jason had come to the Palace she had seen that that desire most definitely went two ways.
So, yes, Ariadne understood just how upset Jason had to be over what had happened to his mother – particularly as he had no way at present of knowing just how bad things were; no way of knowing if Pasiphae were even still alive. The difficult part was that he was trying to pretend that it wasn't bothering him; that he wasn't even thinking of it. He was throwing up defensive walls faster than the Princess could break through them; retreating into isolation. Running off to lead the Amphigeneian patrol away from them was just another symptom of it. He would undoubtedly try to convince her when he returned (and she had to believe that he would return unharmed) that it had been the only way but the truth was that Ariadne knew that, for all his basic desire was to protect the group, at least part of his actions would have been dictated by his own desire to avoid them for a little while.
Perhaps if they hadn't had a disagreement shortly before they had spotted the patrol he wouldn't have gone. She had noticed how tired he was becoming; knew that he hadn't really been sleeping properly over the last few nights; that he was taking longer watches than the rest of them. Things had come to a head this morning though when it had transpired that Jason had apparently "forgotten" to wake either Nisos or herself up to relieve him and allow him to get a few hours of sleep despite the fact that she had explicitly told everyone she wanted to take her turn. Ariadne had quietly seethed for most of the day; had wanted to let Jason know how she felt but not in front of the others. Her chance had come in the late afternoon as they searched for firewood together. She had made her feelings clear on the subject but had not really expected Jason to argue (although given what she knew of his stubbornness she wondered why she hadn't expected it). Their disagreement hadn't been particularly loud or vocal but it had been profound given that they'd never actually argued before. To Ariadne's eyes Jason was clearly running himself into the ground and she wasn't about to accept him risking his own health when there was no real need for it. There were enough of them to take turns on watch at night while the others slept and to the Princess' mind it was simply unnecessary for Jason to be trying to take on the burden on his own. Maybe she shouldn't have suggested that he would be useless to them if he collapsed from exhaustion but she was more than a little annoyed that he didn't seem able to see how unreasonable he was being.
Of course she had not banked on being on the receiving end of Jason's temper. While she had seen him snap at Pasiphae once (and knew that it had happened a few more times in the first couple of days he had been at the Palace), Ariadne knew that as a rule Jason was relatively sunny natured and apparently slow to anger. It appeared though that sleep deprivation (combined with worry she suspected) made him irritable. He had not shouted at her – although in some ways Ariadne thought she would have preferred it if he had. Instead he had been icily cold but sharp, snapping in a manner that Ariadne had never believed he would direct at her. Then he had retreated even further into himself and ignored her completely until the patrol had drawn near. At that point he had simply announced that he would lead them away and that the rest of them should hide and had taken off before anyone could respond.
Still upset Ariadne paced to the end of the gully. It would help, she supposed, if she had someone to share her worries with, but the Oracle was still serenely praying, apparently unaware of the Princess' turmoil, and Nisos was hunting for food – a wise precaution given that they didn't know how long they would be camped here; how long it would take Jason to lose his pursuers and return to them. Although if it took much longer Ariadne would be setting off to look for him no matter what anyone else thought. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and moved back towards the fire, crouching down and grabbing a knife, preparing to whittle the end of some of the thin wooden staves the two men had cut for her from nearby trees into sharp points to use as arrows. In truth she already had plenty of arrows but she needed to keep her hands and her mind occupied to keep herself from worrying too much.
The sudden flapping of wings alerted her to how quiet the forest had become, even the air seemed heavy and still. Something had disturbed the wildlife enough that it was silent. With a quick glance at the Oracle Ariadne silently pushed herself to her feet and walked to the end of the gully once more, her senses alert, eyes darting around to try to spy out any nearby threats. It was not Nisos, of that she was sure. The young soldier had left from the opposite end of the gully and had promised to return that way. Nothing was moving. Ariadne turned to look anxiously back down the hollow, nervous that someone might have crept up behind her, silencing the Oracle as they had come. There was nothing. The only sounds that reached Ariadne's ears were her own harsh breathing and her feet crunching faintly through the fallen leaves. She grasped the knife she had been using to sharpen her arrows a little more tightly, suddenly wishing that she had had the foresight to pick up the bow that rested near the fire – although she supposed that at close quarters it would only really be useful as a staff.
She stilled. A twig snapped. Someone was behind her. As quickly as she could she span around, knife already slashing forwards to strike her opponent. Quicker than she would have deemed possible a hand caught her wrist firmly but not painfully and the blade stopped inches from Jason's breastplate. The young man blew out a breath and then smiled at her, reaching out to pull Ariadne into an embrace.
"Jason," Ariadne breathed, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his armoured shoulder missing the little wince he gave as she grasped him a little too tightly.
They stayed like that for a moment, stealing what comfort they could from one another until the pointed clearing of a throat made them both turn.
"Not interrupting anything am I?" Nisos asked with an amused grin.
The young soldier had proved to be a good travelling companion. He was a more than competent warrior and as it turned out possessed a dry sense of humour that made his company pleasurable. He had also accepted the fact that Jason and Ariadne clearly knew one another without comment; did not seem concerned that the Princess had what appeared to be a close relationship with someone dressed as a commoner – close enough for them to be on a first name basis anyway. If he was in any way surprised that Jason did not use Ariadne's title and show deference to her he didn't show it.
"I mean I'd hate to think that I'd interrupted," Nisos continued with his eyes still sparkling. Then his face grew serious. "If I may be so bold My Lady," he ventured. "You must be careful. You are a Princess with a reputation to protect." His eyes flicked over Jason. "I do not mean any harm," he added, "but…"
"I am hardly a Princess at present," Ariadne answered. "I am simply the daughter of an exiled King."
"Nevertheless I do not think your father would be happy with you consorting with a commoner," Nisos said softly.
"Jason is not a commoner," Ariadne retorted. "He is the son of King Aeson and true heir to the throne of Atlantis."
"I'm not heir to the throne," Jason protested, "and I don't want to be either. That's your place."
"Jason," Ariadne started.
"Besides," Jason continued as though she hadn't spoken, "I'm not sure that your father would be very happy with you telling people who I am and who my parents are. He seems pretty keen to keep it a secret… and I'd rather it stayed that way."
"It is partly for your sake that he does wish it to be kept a secret," the Princess argued. "My father is already coming to think of you as a member of our family. I know he has not yet given us his permission but he hasn't denied it either. You are a prince of Atlantis but whether you choose to accept the role has to be down to you."
"It's kind of beside the point at the moment anyway," Jason responded. "With Anaxandros in control of the city we're fugitives at best."
Nisos was looking between the two of them with his mouth hanging open. He closed it with an audible snap.
"All this time," he muttered. "We have travelled together for days now and you never said a word My Lord."
Jason grimaced.
"Don't call me that," he all but begged. "I'm not a lord… I'm nothing special."
Ariadne snorted drawing an irritated look from Jason.
"So your mother is…" Nisos began still looking somewhat startled.
"Yes," Jason answered shortly.
The young soldier winced. He had seen what had happened to the Queen the same way they all had. It had seemed incredible – unbelievable – to him at the time that she had sacrificed herself to save a peasant (albeit a brave one) but their flight from the Temple had driven it from his mind. Now it all made a horrible sort of sense.
"I am truly sorry," he said genuinely, looking at Jason.
Jason frowned.
"It isn't your fault," he muttered awkwardly, slightly upset at the direction the conversation had taken.
Ariadne had drawn back from him by this point and was looking at him with a frown. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Oracle packing up her devotional equipment and shaking out a blanket, quickly following it up with a second. The Princess' frown deepened. Surely it was a little early to be thinking of laying out their beds for the night? Although given that the patrol that had drawn close was the first signs they had seen of the enemy in more than a day, this hollow should be safe enough for the time being. She turned and looked at Jason again and smacked him on the arm.
Jason yelped in surprise.
"What was that for?" he asked.
"Running off on your own without discussing things first," Ariadne answered primly.
Jason frowned.
"There wasn't time," he argued.
"There was enough time," Ariadne said. "You know as well as I do that the Amphigeneians weren't that close. I'm not saying that we would have done anything different but we have to work together. You are not on your own and you cannot make that sort of decision for all of us."
"Ariadne," Jason began.
"What if you had been injured?" she continued, her voice throbbing with emotion. "What if you hadn't managed to get back to us? Or if you were captured? We need you Jason… I need you. Please… please do not shut yourself off… do not shut me out." She put her hand back on his arm, her dark eyes worried.
"I'm sorry," Jason answered, subdued. "I just wanted to lead them away from you. I just wanted to keep you safe."
"I know," Ariadne said, "but I worry about you just as much as you worry about me." She paused and looked him up and down, taking in how cold and tired he looked and how the lower half of his trousers and legs were covered in wet mud. "What happened?"
"Not much," Jason said. "I led them away from here and then hid in the bushes until they left. They found an abandoned camp that they went off to investigate. I got the feeling that they're being called back to the city though. I heard one of them calling to one of the others. He was saying that they're being pulled out of the woods. I think they might be trying to consolidate their hold on Atlantis before they start searching for the King properly. It might be the chance we need to get through and find your father and my friends."
He deliberately avoided mentioning his mother – or even thinking about her. Ariadne gave him a sympathetic and knowing look that he ignored, her eyes filled with compassion.
"How did you get so wet?" she asked gently, changing the subject slightly.
Jason half smiled.
"Came back along a stream bed so that if they did decide to carry on searching for me near where they lost me they wouldn't be able to find any footprints to follow," he said. "It may have been a bit muddier than I was expecting."
"I should say so," Ariadne teased. "Come on."
She grabbed Jason's hand and started to lead him back to the fire where their few bags were lying. Reaching into the bag she had filled in Jason's room in the Palace rather than one of the ones pressed upon them by Meriones, she pulled out a spare pair of trousers.
"Get changed," she instructed. "You don't want to be hanging around cold and damp."
Jason took the trousers off her with a nod and a small smile. Someday he had the feeling that Ariadne would make a wonderful mother. He glanced around.
"Perhaps you wouldn't mind turning your back?" he asked softly.
"Of course," Ariadne answered as she turned around, noting that both Nisos and the Oracle turned as well to give Jason a little privacy.
Jason almost smiled again at the feeling of deja-vu that struck him. Of course the last time it had been him and his two friends turning their backs while the Princess changed so really the situation was kind of inverted – although he supposed the principle remained the same. Somehow he couldn't see Ariadne peeking though – not the way that Hercules had – or the way that he had if he was honesty (although he hadn't actually seen anything).
"You can turn around now," he said softly.
Ariadne turned back to him with a smile.
"That is much better," she approved. "Now I will not have to worry about you catching your death."
Jason sank down onto the blanket that the Oracle had laid out, suddenly more tired than ever. He couldn't even summon up the energy to answer Ariadne or acknowledge it when she sat down next to him and slipped the second blanket around his shoulders.
"Maybe we should eat and then we can talk about what we do next," Nisos said, producing some pheasants from beneath his cloak, newly killed and ready for plucking.
The Oracle pounced on them with what appeared to her younger companions' eyes to be almost unholy delight, whisking them away to prepare and returning them to roast on a stick frame set above the fire like a spit with truly remarkable speed. As she sat and watched the Seeress set about preparing dinner for them all (something that she would never have imagined seeing in a million years) Ariadne shivered slightly, the cold managing to seep through the cloak that she wore. Jason edged closer and drew her into his arms, draping the blanket around both their shoulders for warmth. Ariadne looked at him over her shoulder. Although he smiled she couldn't help but notice that it didn't quite reach his eyes, leaving him with an air of pensiveness.
"We will find them," she said with certainty.
"I know," Jason answered softly. He sighed.
"I am sure she will be fine." Ariadne tried to reassure him.
"Yeah," Jason responded. "She's strong… stubborn…" He sounded more hopeful than certain.
Ariadne bit her lip at his tone.
"We'll be in Dodona tomorrow," the young man continued. "We will find your father… and Hercules and the others. Everything will be fine then."
"You should get some rest," Ariadne murmured gently running a hand down the side of his face. "You are exhausted."
"I'm alright."
"No," Ariadne disagreed. "You are not alright. You are tired and worried."
"We're all worried," Jason argued.
"Indeed," Ariadne acknowledged. "But for tonight let us try to forget our worries and simply enjoy being here together. I have come to realise that the future is uncertain… every day is precious… we must enjoy them as such. I know so little of your past and yet I believe that I know so much about you… but I would still wish for us to learn more about one another… there are so many stories I wish to tell you from my own childhood… and I do not believe that we will have many chances to spend time alone in one another's company in this way very often."
"We're not exactly alone now," Jason responded with a wry grin looking over to the place where the Oracle was preparing supper and then to where Nisos was sharpening his sword.
"I believe you know what I meant," Ariadne said, smiling at him.
"Yes," Jason answered. "I do."
As the Oracle finished off preparing their meal he pulled Ariadne in a little tighter to him, their conversation light and easy, steering clear of any topics that worried either one of them. Casting aside thoughts of his mother and stepfather or his friends he settled down for the evening with his beautiful Princess in his arms, ready to listen to whatever stories she chose to tell him and perhaps to tell one or two of his own. Tomorrow might be uncertain but tonight was theirs.