Rarely Simple and Never Straightforward

by yassandra

When Hercules manages to find a job that will take Jason and Pythagoras out of Atlantis for a few days, it seems relatively simple and straightforward. Unfortunately, things rarely go to plan where these three are concerned. Alone and cut off, Jason & Pythagoras can only rely on each other to survive while Hercules sets off to find and rescue his friends.

2. Shadows of the Past

Hercules was having a good day. Last night had passed easily enough; no-one had even come near the warehouse he had been guarding for Idas. Not that anyone would have dared, Hercules thought to himself. Even the thieves of Atlantis knew that you didn't cross Hercules; he had watched that workshop like a bat!

Now, with his two housemates away completing the other half of the job he had so skilfully arranged for them all, he had some free time to himself. He made his way purposefully through the streets, bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, towards The Tipsy Goddess, intending to have a flagon or two – and perhaps even a pie – smiling to himself and greeting acquaintances as he went.

The interior of the tavern was cool and dimly lit. Hercules' smile grew wider. He had spent many happy hours here over the years. He bought himself a flagon of wine, wandered over to a free table and sat down, ready to wile away a pleasant hour or two.

"Hercules!"

The booming voice made Hercules look up, smile becoming a beam as he saw an old friend hailing him.

"Clytius," he replied, standing up and reaching out to clasp the newcomer's hand. "It is good to see you, old friend. It has been a while."

"Too long," his friend confirmed. "Now tell me, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know," Hercules answered. "The usual… Let me buy you a drink and we can talk."

"You are going to buy me a drink?" Clytius laughed, sitting down. "Have you inherited some money then? Or have the Gods been good to you and you have won at dice?"

"Neither," Hercules replied with good humour. "This is some money that I have borrowed from a friend."

Clytius barked a laugh and clapped Hercules on the shoulder.

"And does Pythagoras know that you have borrowed it?" he asked.

"I haven't stolen it if that's what you're implying," Hercules protested mildly. "I'm going to replace it as soon as I get paid… I found some good honest work for the three of us."

"Oh?" Clytius replied. "What sort of work?"

"The boys are off retrieving some goods that Idas the merchant was forced to leave behind on a journey, and I am guarding the rest of his goods," Hercules answered.

"Idas?" Clytius snorted. "You are working for that cheat and liar? I hope you got the money in advance. The word on the street is that Idas doesn't pay his bills."

"Really?" Hercules said with a frown, his good mood souring. "Thank you. I'll make sure to get our money from him as soon as may be."

"Well," Clytius replied, "I will not stand by and let a friend be cheated if I can help it. Tell me, what exactly did Idas employ you for?"

"I told you, he was returning from Pathmos and was forced to hide part of his cargo – a casket of jewels. Pythagoras and Jason have gone to fetch it while I have the more difficult job of protecting Idas' workshop. He told me he has a commission from the Palace so the jewels he has at the moment are top quality; very attractive to the criminal element," Hercules answered.

"Top quality jewels from Pathmos? A commission from the Palace? Hercules, my old friend, Idas has spun you a story," Clytius said seriously. "Idas is a low-class trinket pedlar. He has cheated so many of his fellow merchants that now none of the jewel traders will deal with him. He has neither the money nor the means to trade outside the city and has not left Atlantis in at least a year. He certainly has not visited Pathmos."

"But what possible reason could he have to lie to me?" Hercules asked incredulously.

It wasn't that he didn't believe Clytius (they had been drinking companions for too many years and had never been less than honest with one another, and, working as he did in the artisan district of Atlantis, Clytius was far better placed to know all the gossip about the city's merchants) but he simply could not see why Idas would have come up with this story.

"To gain something that was not his in the first place," Clytius said, his eyes suddenly sharp and intent. "There are many rumours in the city about Idas. For years now, he has been claiming to know the location of some lost jewels. Apparently, they are some of the finest you would ever see. There is only one problem. The jewels were given as an offering to Hera centuries ago and stolen or misplaced somehow. Anyhow, they still belong to the Goddess and anyone seeking to find them risks being cursed. Idas has been trying to find someone brave or foolhardy enough to risk that curse to fetch them for him for years now. I am told that the jewels that he seeks are in a valley not far from the ruined palace at Cynus… but, Hercules, if your friends have gone there then you must be prepared to mourn. I am told that no-one has ever returned from that accursed place."

Jason woke up slowly, eyelids fluttering before coming open. For a moment he lay staring at the ceiling in confusion. That did not look like the ceiling above his bed and he couldn't quite work out where he was. Then a throbbing headache asserted itself and he restrained the urge to whimper, even as he brought his hand up to feel the back of his head – where the biting pain seemed to be coming from. There was, he noted groggily, a sizeable lump there.

"I really rather you did not prod that," Pythagoras' voice came from somewhere to Jason's right. "The bleeding has stopped, and I would rather you did not set it off again."

"Wha…?" Jason said, still not fully awake and slurring his speech a little. "Bleedin…?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to wake up properly, before rolling carefully onto his right side and fully opening his eyes.

Pythagoras was sitting nearby, hugging his knees. It made him look anxious and defenceless.

"Yes," he replied. "I am afraid you hit your head quite hard." A haunted look came across his eyes. "For a moment I was very much afraid of what the damage might be."

"Sorry," Jason muttered.

"Never mind," Pythagoras said with false brightness. "You are clearly not as seriously harmed as I had feared at first."

Jason pushed himself up and sat, hand coming automatically to cup the back of his own head again and eyes slamming shut as a wave of dizziness rocked him; nausea teasing his stomach unpleasantly. As the dizziness and nausea faded, he dropped his hand down to rub the back of his neck and opened his eyes again, letting his gaze drift around the room.

They seemed to be in some sort of small store room – most decidedly not the large open hall that was the last place Jason remembered being. He looked at Pythagoras quizzically.

"How did we get here? And for that matter, where is here?" he asked.

Pythagoras scrambled across the floor and knelt in front of him.

"Look at my hand and follow the finger with your eyes," he said raising his hand to the level of Jason's eyes and moving his finger back and forth in front of his friend's face.

"Pythagoras…" Jason began.

"I will answer all your questions in good time," Pythagoras said quickly, "but for my sake, please just do as I ask now? I wish to make sure that you are as well as possible."

Jason sighed but acquiesced to Pythagoras' instructions. Deep down he knew how important a concussion check could be.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Pythagoras asked.

"Two," Jason answered quickly.

"And now?"

"Four… where are we? And what happened?"

Pythagoras sighed and sat back on his heels.

"Something – and I do not know what – threw you back into that pillar," he said. "After you were knocked out, I felt the need to get us to somewhere safe. I know it seemed that no-one could see or hear us, but I did not wish to tempt fate. I found this storeroom just off the main temple chamber and dragged you in here. You were not unconscious for all that long to be honest. I had only just got you settled when you began to come around." He glanced around the room. "As there is only one door in and out, I believe we should be safe enough here whatever happens."

He looked awkward, as though he was hiding something.

"What aren't you telling me?" Jason asked. "Something is worrying you. What is it?"

Pythagoras swallowed.

"Just before you woke up," he began, "I attempted to take some food off the shelf over there." He indicated a shelf on the other side of the tiny room. "As we had originally thought to be home by nightfall tonight, we do not have many supplies with us and I wished to replenish them. We do not know what the situation here truly is after all, and I cannot think that we will be home tonight as planned."

"That was good thinking," Jason agreed.

"The problem is that I did not manage to take a single item," Pythagoras replied. "I do not know what sort of magic has apparently restored this building, or what precisely is going on, but my hand passed right through."

Jason blinked.

"Sorry?" he said. "I don't understand."

"Watch," Pythagoras said.

He stood up and moved over to the nearest shelf. Looking intently at Jason, he swallowed and went to take a jar off the shelf. His hand passed right through.

"It seems that we can neither be seen nor heard, and that likewise we cannot touch anything here," he said softly. "We have limited supplies and no means of replenishing them as long as we stay here."

"Then we'd better try to leave," Jason said. "There's nothing that says we won't be able to do that now is there."

"No," Pythagoras acknowledged. "Although, I am worried that leaving will not be so easy. Something has happened since we uncovered that casket and I do not understand what that something is."

"Well we won't know if we don't try," Jason pointed out.

He carefully stood up, holding onto the wall as dizziness briefly rocked him once again.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras asked.

"Aside from a pounding headache? Yeah, I think so."

"Very well… Can I suggest that we explore a little before we attempt to leave the building?" Pythagoras ventured. "It may benefit us to try to learn exactly what we are facing."

"That's actually probably a very good plan," Jason replied. "Let's go."

He made his way over to the door of the storeroom and peered cautiously around it into the main chamber. No-one was nearby.

"The coast's clear," he said, stepping out into the massive chamber beyond.

Pythagoras offered him a half smile as he stepped out of the room to join him.

It was eerie to see a temple so silent and still, Jason decided as they explored the main chamber and the small rooms off it. He had been in the Temple of Poseidon in Atlantis when it was almost deserted before now (when the only people there was himself and Ariadne or Melas, or whoever he had gone there to see) and yet it hadn't felt as desolate and abandoned as this.

They spoke in hushed tones; it felt wrong to speak any louder and break the stillness.

Finally, they had explored everywhere they could and learned nothing useful. Without needing to talk about it (the bond they had shared almost from the day they had met meant they were often in synch with one another's thoughts without the need for speech), the two young men made their way to the main doors and stopped.

Jason looked at Pythagoras and swallowed hard.

"Well," he said, "I guess there's only one way to find out whether we can leave or not."

He turned and put his hands to the doors, half expecting to be thrown backwards again and bracing himself for it. It was a distinct surprise when the doors yielded easily; opening wide with a gentle tug. Jason exchanged a startled look with Pythagoras, before the two of them stepped through.

Outside the doors, a cold fog had closed in on the building. It was hard to see much further than the bottom of the steps. Jason squinted as he looked down, trying to see just a little bit further.

"I do not like this," Pythagoras murmured. "The causeway we crossed to get here was only wide enough for a cart. In this fog it would be all too easy to miss our footing and step off into the lake… and all too difficult to find our way back to land if we did."

"I know," Jason replied, "but it's our only way out of here. This fog… there was no sign of it when we came in."

"You think it is not a natural occurrence?"

"I don't know what to think," Jason admitted. "I cannot help feeling that something is trying to trap us here…" He squinted at the fog again, grimacing as his head throbbed. "The causeway was fairly straight, right?"

"Yes," Pythagoras replied.

"Okay, so if we're careful we should be able to work out where the edges are," Jason said decisively. "Then it's only a matter of walking in a straight line."

"Maybe," Pythagoras answered dubiously. "But how do you plan on working out where the edges are?"

Jason glanced around himself for inspiration.

"Like this," he said, moving to one side and grabbing a few pebbles he could see.

He walked down the steps to the bottom and peered into the mists. If he squinted, he thought he could see the edges of the causeway looming out of the fog. To confirm his theory, he gently threw a pebble a little to one side. The faint splosh in made told him that it had gone in the lake. He threw a few more, bringing them a little closer each time until one of them landed on solid ground. Then he repeated the procedure on the other side. He turned to Pythagoras, who was standing slightly behind him.

"Well I guess we know where the edges are now," he said.

"Indeed," Pythagoras agreed. He shivered. "Is it just me or is the fog growing thicker?"

"I'm not sure," Jason answered. "I don't think there is any point in hanging around though."

"No," Pythagoras replied. "You are right. Let us go."

They started to cross the causeway, only speaking to warn each other about possible hazards to footing. Pythagoras had been right; the further they moved away from the temple, the thicker the fog became until they couldn't even see one another. The path seemed to become more and more treacherous as the visibility decreased; neither of them knew how many times they tripped and fell, picking up little cuts, bruises and scrapes to palms and knees. They were both shivering by now, freezing cold fog chilling them and soaking their clothes and hair.

"Jason, this is impossible," Pythagoras called from somewhere to Jason's left. "I cannot see my hand in front of my face. If we continue, I fear one of us will end up in the lake and be lost forever."

"And if we don't, we may never get out of here," Jason argued. "Our provisions won't last for more than a few days, even if we ration them."

He heard Pythagoras sigh.

"You are right," the mathematician admitted. "We will go on."

As he said it though, an unearthly wailing scream came from somewhere in the fog.

"What was that?" Jason asked urgently.

"I do not know," Pythagoras replied equally anxiously. "I have never heard a sound like it and have never read of anything that could make such a noise."

Jason gulped.

"Maybe we should have thought about this and tied ourselves together," he said. "That way, if one of us fell into the water, the other one could pull them out."

"Or been pulled in too," Pythagoras pointed out reasonably. "And, anyway, we have not got any rope with us, so we have no means for tying ourselves together."

"I just don't like not being able to see you," Jason admitted.

"I am equally uncomfortable," Pythagoras said. "Perhaps if we were to hold onto each other though, it might have the same effect as tying ourselves together."

"Fine," Jason replied. "If you step to your right and I step to my left, we should find each other."

They stumbled on, the thick fog making them all but blind, hanging on tightly to each other. Suddenly the wailing scream came again, closer now.

"Whatever that is I do not think I wish to meet it," Pythagoras remarked.

"No," Jason agreed. "Come on. We need to move faster."

Shapes reared up out of the fog ahead of them; dark shadows that they couldn't make out. One of the shapes swooped towards the two young men.

Jason heard Pythagoras give a strangled gasp as he was wrenched away from the young hero.

"Pythagoras!" he called urgently, turning towards where he believed his friend to have been.

From somewhere in the mist, Jason could hear the sound of a desperate struggle. He stepped towards it, intent on helping Pythagoras. All of a sudden, a searing, burning pain slashed across his thigh. Jason fell, crying out as he did. He pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards the noise, blindly grabbing for his friend. His hands hit a solid arm, raised at throat height and he heard a gurgling as though something was being strangled. Jason clawed at the arm, only to be flung away by something with almost inhuman strength. He scrambled to his feet again and reached blindly for the arm. What he encountered, though, was the soft fabric of the loose open garment Pythagoras sometimes wore over his tunic. He caught hold of his friend and pulled him back, away from whatever the creature was that was attacking them.

They fell in a heap on the causeway. Jason could hear Pythagoras wheezing, gasping for air. He dragged himself to his knees, feeling blood pouring down his thigh, and reached out to feel for the mathematician.

"Pythagoras," he called urgently.

"I… am… alright," Pythagoras wheezed, his voice hoarse.

"No, you are not," Jason replied. "You are hurt."

"I… will… admit… that I… have felt… better," Pythagoras gasped.

"We have to go back," Jason said. "You are struggling to breathe, and I have done something to my leg. It's bleeding. I do not think either one of us is going to be able to go on right now."

He felt Pythagoras nod against him.

"Agreed," Pythagoras replied, still breathless and hoarse. "But… I do not know which direction that is."

Jason scrabbled on the ground until he found a couple of pebbles. He threw one to the right and was rewarded by a splash. Then he threw a second one to the left. The splash was much closer.

"We need to move a little to the right and then keep going straight on," he said. "We'll either reach the shore or end up back at the temple that way."

He forced himself to his feet and reached out to pull his friend up too. It wasn't easy since he couldn't actually see Pythagoras and since his leg felt like it would give way at any moment.

Once they were both upright, Jason went to take a step forwards but lurched sideways into Pythagoras, crying out as his leg refused to hold his weight properly. Pythagoras wrapped his arms around him almost instinctively.

Together they started to make their stumbling way along the causeway; half staggering along. As they walked, they gradually became aware that the fog was thinning until they could see each other – first as shapes in the gloom and then properly.

Finally, the temple loomed massively out of the mist and they stumbled up the stairs; Jason leaning ever more heavily on Pythagoras as his leg gave way more and more. As they staggered back through the door to the temple, they both stopped and stared open-mouthed.

The chamber they had left deserted just a short time earlier was now teeming with people. Yet it looked different from how it had appeared earlier. The great statue of Hera was now only half built; the carving not yet fully complete and the golden crown that had surmounted it not yet in place. Workmen bustled around the scaffolding surrounding it and priestesses and acolytes stood receiving offerings.

The young man in the green tunic, who they had last seen being dragged away by guards, hurried across the floor towards the High Priest.

"You bring word from the King, Sebastos?" the High Priest intoned.

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastos answered, proffering a small roll of parchment.

The High Priest took it, read the contents and looked up in surprise at the young man.

"Do you know what is written here?" he asked.

"No," Sebastos replied. "I was merely entrusted with the duty of delivering it safely to you."

"And you have performed that duty well." The priest smiled, his stern face softening. "It is good news. The King writes that he means to honour the Goddess by providing fine jewels to adorn the crown of her statue. Come with me, I must speak with the sculptor and then I may have a message for you to take back to Cynus."

He hurried across the floor with the young man in his wake.

Jason turned to share a baffled look with Pythagoras.

"What is going on?" he asked in confusion. "I thought… well… I don't understand at all."

"I think I am beginning to understand," Pythagoras replied slowly.

His voice still sounded painfully hoarse and Jason winced at the deep scratches (almost gashes) and bruising that was developing around his throat; evidence that someone or something had attempted to strangle him.

"I suspect that what we are seeing is the past," the young genius went on. "We are seeing scenes from the history of this temple… but those scenes are jumping about in time a little. So, what we see now actually took place before what we saw earlier."

"Are you serious?" Jason demanded incredulously.

"Unfortunately so," Pythagoras answered. "It would explain why we cannot be seen or speak to anyone… and why we could not take the food earlier… It is because it is not really here – it is simply a shadow of the past. It would also explain why a ruined building managed to rebuild itself in a matter of moments."

As he spoke, they began to cross the temple floor to return to the little storeroom Pythagoras had found earlier. By now Jason was dragging his injured leg, dripping blood behind him and leaning heavily on his friend's shoulder.

"We can discuss this later," Pythagoras said, eyeing the blood trail seriously. "You are losing more blood than I am comfortable with and I would like to do something about that… and I must admit that I believe that I need to rest too."

Once they were back in the room, Pythagoras helped Jason lower himself to the floor, leaning against a wall, and dropped down to sit beside him, letting his head drop back until it was resting against the wall too.

"Whatever it was that attacked us out in the fog… that was not simply a shadow of the past," Jason murmured.

"No," Pythagoras replied, forcing himself to sit up and starting to root through his bag for the few medical supplies he had shoved in there. "I suspect it may have been a vengeful spirit."

He carefully peeled back the ragged edges of the tear in Jason's trousers to look at the wound below and bit his lip at what he saw; it was a far deeper wound than he had wanted to see, going deep into the muscle of his friend's thigh.

"I think I am going to need to stitch that," he said softly.

Jason grimaced.

"Do you have to?" he asked.

"I am afraid so," Pythagoras answered. "I have a few herbs that I can use to form a poultice that will help speed up the healing process but the wound itself is too deep for me to do anything other than stitch it. If I do not, then I fear you will continue to lose blood and I am not willing to risk the consequences of that."

Jason sighed and nodded, turning his face away as Pythagoras threaded a needle.

"I will need you to hold as still as you can for me," he said gently. "I am afraid that this will hurt… I do not have the means of numbing the skin. If we were at home, there would be salves I could use to prevent you from feeling this, but I do not have them with me."

"Alright," Jason said shortly, trying to prepare himself as best he could.

By the time Pythagoras was finished, he was afraid his friend had lost consciousness; after a small and very un-Jason-like whimper, his dark-haired friend had gone very still and very quiet, his head dropped forwards. As Pythagoras cut the end of the thread and began to prepare a poultice to slather on the ugly wound though, Jason spoke – his voice so quiet that Pythagoras almost didn't hear him.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"Almost," Pythagoras answered gently. "I have finished the stitching and just need to put a poultice on and bind the wound. It will just be a few more moments and then I would suggest you should rest."

"What about you?" Jason asked, his voice still quiet and strained; laced with pain. "You were hurt too."

"I am not so badly off," Pythagoras said.

"Pythagoras, you sound awful and your throat looks painful," Jason pointed out. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"It does hurt a little," Pythagoras admitted.

He spotted the resolute expression in Jason's eyes and knew that his friend was going to insist on helping him too.

"There is a salve that I can make to help with the bruises," he said. "As I cannot see them myself, I would ask you to help me to apply it."

Jason nodded.

"I can do that," he said, sounding stronger now that the sharp pain that stitching his wound had caused was fading to a dull ache. "Is there anything else?"

"It is a little painful to swallow," Pythagoras admitted. "We still have some wine in a skin. There are herbs I can add to it that will help to ease the pain." He eyed his friend speculatively. "Actually, that might help both of us," he added.

Once he had made the salve he had been talking about, he handed it to Jason. With deep concentration, Jason stroked it as gently as he could along the column of his friend's throat, trying not to cause Pythagoras any additional pain and knowing that his hands were roughened through regular sword use. After he finished with Pythagoras' throat, he dipped his thumb back into the salve and stroked it along the length of Pythagoras' left cheekbone which was swollen and bruised.

"Thank you," the young mathematician said softly.

"Don't be daft," Jason said with a slight smile. "It's what friends are for. We look after each other, remember?"

Pythagoras shivered. He glanced across at Jason and noted the faint tremors running through his friend's body – although he wasn't certain whether that was because Jason was cold or because of a mixture of pain, blood loss and slight shock, or perhaps a combination of both.

"I wish there was some way we could light a fire to get warm," he said. "I confess that I am chilled through… but I fear an attempt to take wood from the temple supply would meet with no more success than my attempt to obtain food earlier. I suspect that we simply will not be able to touch anything that belongs in the past – it is not really here in the same way that the people we are seeing are not really here."

"Mmm," Jason hummed quietly in response. "At least we have blankets though."

He looked from Pythagoras' wet clothing to his own.

"We should probably both get out of these clothes and wrap up in the blankets until they've dried," he advised. "I don't think either of us will manage to get warm while we're still wet."

"You are right," Pythagoras agreed. "I should have thought of that myself."

In what seemed a remarkably quick time they were settled, wrapped up in the blankets they usually slept on and under on a journey, with their clothes laid out to dry as best they could on the floor.

As warmth returned, Jason found himself growing slightly drowsy. He eased himself into a more comfortable position and looked at Pythagoras speculatively.

"You really think what's out there are images from the past?" he asked, nodding vaguely at the door.

"I do," Pythagoras confirmed. "It is the only explanation that I can come up with that fits all the facts."

"But how?" Jason asked.

"I suspect that Hera cursed the casket of jewels when it was stolen," Pythagoras answered. "When we lifted it out of the ground, we inadvertently triggered that curse. To take an offering meant for the Gods is sacrilege… as well you should know."

Jason groaned, remembering his time as a dog.

"Just what I need!" he said grumpily. "To be cursed by another Goddess!" He sighed. "Alright… what do we do about it? I think it is pretty obvious from our last attempt to leave that we are not going to be able to until we lift this curse – that fog was definitely not natural. So how do we do it?"

"I am not sure," Pythagoras conceded. "I suspect that Hera will not let us go until she gets her jewels back."

"But we did not know that they were hers and we did not actually take them," Jason said. "I put the box back at the base of the pillar where we found it."

"I do not think it matters whether we knew the jewels belonged to Hera or not. I fear they were cursed when they were first stolen," Pythagoras replied. "And I do not think simply putting them back where we found them was what the Goddess wants… She will want them to be placed as they were originally intended – in her crown."

"But the statue no longer exists," Jason protested.

"I know," Pythagoras acknowledged. "I fear that to break the curse in the present, we will have to change the past."

"How is that possible?" Jason demanded. "The past has already happened. Besides, although we can see what happened, we can't actually interact with anything… so how can we get the jewels back to the Goddess?"

As he spoke, it occurred to him that ever since he had arrived in Atlantis he had, in a way, been changing the past (although he still wasn't sure if this was actually the past or another world as the Oracle had implied at their first meeting). This was different though. Rather than having actually travelled into the past, they seemed to be stuck in some sort of time loop (for want of a better word) which allowed them to observe but not actually do anything.

"I confess that I do not know," Pythagoras admitted. "That is as far as my speculation has taken me… and I am a little too worn from everything that has happened so far today to think of a plan." He sighed. "What happened out on the causeway was traumatic and I suspect we would both benefit from rest as a result. As I said earlier, this storeroom seems relatively safe for now and we are at least out of the elements here. We should rest while we can… after all, we do not know what will happen in the hours to come."

"You are probably right," Jason admitted. "I know it must still be daytime but I am ridiculously tired…"

"That will be a combination of your earlier head injury and blood loss from that," Pythagoras said, looking pointedly at the bandage he had wound around his friend's thigh.

He eased himself down to lie with his head on his bag and was gratified to see Jason following suit.

"I am sure that we will be able to think of something when we are both a little less tired," he murmured.

Jason didn't answer, and within a few minutes the only sounds to be heard within the room were soft snores.

By the time Hercules had managed to track Idas down it had been late afternoon. He had gone to find the merchant to find out more about the valley he had told Hercules about and where Jason and Pythagoras had been sent. Finding the merchant had inevitably delayed his departure to look for his two younger friends, but Hercules had felt it would be worth it to get an exact location: the boys would have had to spend time looking for the valley but (hopefully) he could go straight there.

What he had learned from Idas had not been reassuring and Hercules promised himself grimly as he strode purposefully towards the Telapius Gate that he would come back and make the merchant pay if either one of his friends was harmed in any way.

The sun had dropped beyond the horizon while the burly wrestler had been talking with Idas and night had fallen as he had been collecting his bag and sword from home. Hercules didn't relish the thought of a journey through the mountains at night – the hours past sundown were always more treacherous for a traveller; particularly one journeying alone. All too often there were thieves lurking in the darkness, ready to pray on the unwary or the ill prepared. Still, if his friends needed him, Hercules would be there.

"You there, stop!" The instruction was shouted authoritatively from somewhere behind the burly wrestler.

Hercules came to a halt, resisting the urge to swear loudly, even as he finally noticed just how deserted the streets were.

"Me?" he asked as inoffensively as possible, turning around.

There was a patrol of guards, led by a remarkably short man, puffing out his chest with his own importance. Hercules resisted the urge to swear again; it seemed the patrol leader had the sort of obnoxious and aggressive character that was sometimes seen with little men.

"Yes, you," the patrol leader sneered. "What are you doing here? Don't you know there's a curfew?"

Hercules stared at him blankly for a moment. As a matter of fact, with everything he had learned from Clytius and in his hurry to speak with Idas and then get on the road after his friends, he had completely forgotten about the curfew tonight.

"Yes… no… sorry… I… erm… I was in the tavern," Hercules replied. "I just had one or two teensy little drinks with my friends," he added, deliberately slurring his speech and swaying on his feet as though he were drunk. "I'm goin' home now though… iss that way." He pointed to his left. "Or maybe that way." He pointed straight ahead, nearly poking the patrol leader in the eye. "Iss Norf of the Cano… Cano… Canopic Way. Thass where it is."

He belched in the soldier's face. He had eaten garlic earlier and knew the smell would be interesting to say the least.

The short man waved a hand in front of his face, his features twisted into a disgusted expression.

"Go home," he growled, pointing at Hercules with one finger, "and don't let me see you around here again. If I see you here again I will arrest you for breaking the curfew and causing a public nuisance."

"Fank you very much… you're a whossaname… a thingummy… you're a good sort," Hercules slurred.

He went to stumble off.

"Wait!" the patrol leader said sharply. "You are South of the Canopic Way right now," he added with a glower at Hercules. "You need to go that way." He pointed behind him.

Not wanting to tempt fate and knowing that the eyes of the patrol would be on him, Hercules staggered off in the direction the soldier had pointed, making sure to reel from side to side every so often to enhance the impression that he was blind drunk.

Once he was out of sight around a corner, he withdrew into the mouth of an alleyway and stopped to consider his options.

The curfew tonight meant that the gates would not be opened for anyone. He could, of course, return home and follow after his friends first thing in the morning, but he wasn't willing to wait that long; the boys might need him and he would never forgive himself if something happened because he had delayed his departure due to the curfew.

There was another option though; one which was much more dangerous (especially if the guards got wind of what he was doing and released the hunting lions) but might ultimately be successful. All he would need was some rope and a little luck.

Really, in Hercules' mind there was no choice. Moving quickly now, he raced back to the house and grabbed the looped rope from the place he had left it. Throwing it over his shoulder, he hurried back into the street below. Keeping to the shadows and darting from doorway to doorway to avoid encountering any more guards, he made his way to the bottom of the steps that led to the city wall.

This was the tricky bit. Both the stairs and the narrow walkway at the top of the wall were uncomfortably exposed. All it would take was one observant guard (a rarity in Atlantis but knowing Hercules' luck he would encounter one) and he would be caught. He tied the rope around one of the great stone sections of the parapet, muttered a prayer to the Gods and swung himself out onto the outside face of the wall.

As it turned out, descending the rope was easier than he had expected. He had chosen a particularly badly lit section and despite his fears no cry went up from the city to tell him that he had been spotted. Once Hercules was at the base of the wall, he scurried as fast as he could into the trees and hid there, holding his breath, until he was certain that he had not been seen or followed.

Grimly, he turned his back on Atlantis, hoisted his bag and his sword a little higher and set off into the woods. His friends needed him, and he wasn't going to let anything get between him and them now.

Jason stirred slowly and rolled over, with his eyes still closed. The room was very quiet and warm and the sweet, spicy scent of incense and herbs burning hung heavily in the air. He screwed his eyes a little tighter, still chasing the edge of peaceful sleep and wanting nothing more than to return to it. He was just a little too far awake to drop off though, and finally he let his eyes come slowly open.

Pythagoras was lying on his back, not far away, snoring softly in his sleep. Jason smiled gently at the sight, although the smile turned to a slight frown as he caught sight of the wounds around the gentle mathematician's throat.

He thought about what Pythagoras had said before they had both dropped off to sleep: was it possible to change something that had happened in the past? In his former life before he had taken the sub down and ended up in Atlantis, Jason would have emphatically said no but he had seen too much in this world to completely discount the possibility; after all he would never have believed that the Minotaur existed, or that vengeful spirits could have hunted his friend, or that he himself would have spent time as what he still thought of as a werewolf (no matter that his friends called it a kynikos) either.

Jason slowly sat up, wincing as the stitches in his thigh pulled sharply reminding him that the injury was there (and was still hurting even if it did feel better than it had before he had gone to sleep), and took stock of the room once again.

It was impossible to tell what time of day (or indeed night) it was in here. There were no windows to the outside world to indicate how much time had passed. As far as he could recall from their brief exploration of the temple, the whole place was like that too. It niggled at Jason a little that he didn't know how much time had passed since they had arrived here or how long they had slept for; had no way of knowing if it was still the same day or the next one. It almost felt as though time didn't exist.

Moving as slowly and quietly as possible to try to avoid waking the still slumbering Pythagoras, he caught hold of his clothes and checked to see how dry they were. Feeling them, Jason shrugged slightly to himself. The cloth was still a little damp and cold but was wearable, so he pulled them on, grimacing as the wound in his thigh pulled painfully again and then wincing as he pulled his tunic over his head and his fingers brushed against the lump on the back of his head. He felt stiff and sore but if they were going to get out of here and back home to Atlantis, he didn't have time to rest yet; couldn't afford the time to feel sorry for himself.

He flinched as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, trying to keep as much weight as possible on his uninjured leg (at least at first) before gradually transferring his weight until it was evenly distributed. For a moment it felt like someone had set light to his thigh and he hissed, putting one hand against the wall to brace himself and dropping the other down to cover the injury lightly. As the pain faded back to a constant deep throb, Jason moved his hand away and at the bandage wrapped around his leg. There was no blood seeping through and he heaved a quiet sigh of relief; the stitches appeared to have held (which was good because he really didn't fancy having to have them put in again – once was more than enough).

Pythagoras gave a soft snore and rolled onto his side. Jason smiled gently again and picked his way across the room, trying not to wake his friend up. He needed to find somewhere to relieve himself and there was no way he was going to do it in this little room.

Out in the main body of the temple, the scene seemed to have changed again. Sebastos, the young man who had apparently been arrested earlier, hurried across the floor of the temple, flanked by a couple of guards, a small (and very familiar) casket clutched under one arm. The High Priest was waiting at the base of the now nearly completed statue of Hera with a second priest standing at his shoulder. Sebastos hurried over to him and dropped to one knee, holding the casket out.

"My Lord," he said respectfully. "His Majesty has entrusted me with delivering this to you. It contains the jewels he wishes to have set in Hera's crown as an offering to the Goddess."

"You have done your duty well Sebastos," the High Priest replied. "I shall make sure that the King hears of it."

He took the casket and opened it. The man at his shoulder gasped in wonder.

Jason's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. For an instant, as the box was opened, the second priest's face had transformed into an expression of blatant longing; of covetousness. If he hadn't been looking directly at the man's face at the time, he would never have seen it – especially as the priest's expression dropped quickly back into a look of bland subservience as the High Priest turned to him.

"Eryalus," he said, "find Alcaeos and unlock the sanctuary. These offerings must be locked away until the craftsmen are ready to set them into Hera's crown. I will send word to the King once they are prepared so that he might be here for the ceremony. Hera's Son will have his own duties to perform after all."

"At once," the second priest murmured, hurrying away.

The scene flickered and the men disappeared, leaving Jason alone in the great chamber once more. He frowned, he hadn't quite liked the expression on the second priest's face. There had been something in it that made him uneasy; something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He shook himself and limped on across the room. If his memory served him right from their brief exploration of the building before they had made the disastrous attempt to leave, there was a narrow set of stairs leading from the left hand side of the main chamber which opened out into what appeared to be a latrine.

As he crossed the floor, though, the room seemed to darken around him; the braziers dying down to a dull glow and the lamps beginning to extinguish themselves. Jason paused, peering about himself. What was happening now?

A hooded figure darted from somewhere in the gloom behind the statue of Hera. The figure seemed to be peering furtively about himself, although his face was lost in the hood of his cloak. He turned to look at the statue. As he did, the hood of his cloak dropped back. It was the priest whose expression had made Jason uneasy a few minutes ago. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he spotted the tools apparently left by the craftsmen who had been working on the thing. The statue was now as Jason had first seen it; the carving was finished and the golden crown and other adornments set in place; all that was needed to complete it fully was for the jewels to be set into the crown.

"What are you doing here at this hour, Eryalus?" a sharp voice demanded. "You are supposed to be completing the rituals in the sanctuary this night."

Eryalus turned towards the voice and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

The newcomer frowned. He was young and dressed in the chiton of a priest, with his head shaved.

Jason watched the scene with growing trepidation. The air almost crackled with tension between the two priests.

"Alcaeos," Eryalus said with false pleasantness. "I had not thought to see you here."

"You did not answer my question," Alcaeos remarked suspiciously. "Why are you away from the sanctuary? Why are you wearing that cloak? And what are you trying to hide beneath it?"

He stepped forwards and reached out to take hold of Eryalus' arm. As he did, Eryalus stepped back towards the statue, trying to keep out of reach. His cloak swung open revealing the small box of jewels tucked under his arm.

Alcaeos gasped.

"Those belong to Hera," he exclaimed. "You have no reason even to be touching them. Take them back to the sanctuary at once!"

"And what good are jewels to a statue?" Eryalus demanded. "A block of marble has no need for adornments... No. They will be far more useful to me than they would be to her." He nodded at the statue.

"That is not for you to decide," Alcaeos proclaimed, reaching out to grab the casket. "The gifts of the Goddess are not yours to take, thief! You will be cursed. You will bring the wrath of Hera down on all our heads. I cannot allow you to do this!"

"You will not stop me," Eryalus declared. "We have been friends since we were boys. Our fathers were priests in this temple. We grew up together. I do not believe you will be able to raise a hand against me now."

"It is because of our long years of friendship that I am doing this now," Alcaeos retorted. "We have been like brothers… so I beg you, brother, do not do this thing. Return the jewels to the sanctuary where they belong. Turn aside from this path before it is too late."

Eryalus smirked.

"Let me think," he drawled. "No… I do not think so. I think I am going to take this little box and leave."

"Then you leave me no choice," Alcaeos replied. "I cannot allow you to leave with those jewels. I must return them to Hera."

He lunged forwards and caught hold of the casket. For a moment, the two priests fought back and forth, each refusing to let go of the box. Alcaeos appeared to be the stronger of the two and gradually began to gain the upper hand, forcing Eryalus back step by step. Eryalus was tenacious, however; somehow managing to hold onto the casket.

Finally though, he tripped and fell backwards; the box flying out of his hands. Alcaeos stumbled back, pushed off balance, but managed to stay on his feet.

"I am sorry, Eryalus," he said. "My duty is clear. I must return these jewels to the sanctuary and inform the High Priest of what has happened this night. I will pray that he will be lenient with you… I can only presume that you have been led astray by a malevolent spirit… for I know that you would never have done this thing in your right mind."

He turned away, the box clutched tightly in his hands.

Eryalus' face twisted in rage. He had fallen at the base of the statue and now grabbed a heavy maul from the pile of discarded tools. He pushed himself to his feet and rushed forwards, the maul held high in his raised hand, before bringing it down on the back of Alcaeos' head. The blow hit Alcaeos full force and he dropped to the ground instantly, blood pouring from a ghastly looking wound. Eryalus dropped to his knees and smashed the maul into Alcaeos' head twice more before rolling the other priest onto his back. Alcaeos barely seemed to be breathing.

"I am sorry, old friend," he snarled, "but I could not allow you to interfere. These jewels are mine and neither you nor anyone else was going to take them from me."

Jason watched, helpless to act. He knew, logically, that all this had happened a long time ago – that what he was seeing was merely a vision of the past – but it didn't make it any easier; every fibre of his being wanted to stop Eryalus; to prevent the inevitable scene that he and Pythagoras had witnessed when they had first attempted to take the casket from its hiding place.

Eryalus pushed himself back to his feet and picked up the casket. He glanced around the dim chamber, eyes probing.

"Too risky to leave now," he muttered to himself. "Better to hide the box for now and move it once all the fuss has died down."

He looked back at the tools near the statue and then over to the base of a pillar where the flagstones appeared to have been laid recently. He smiled.

Moving swiftly, Eryalus grabbed a couple of tools and hurried over to the pillar he had been looking at. In just a few short moments he had levered up the flagstone, dug a shallow hole, which he placed the small casket in, and replaced both the earth and the flagstone.

"I will be back for you later," he promised, standing up and replacing the tools where he had found them.

The main door to the temple began to open with a quiet creak. Eryalus looked towards them sharply and then scurried away into the dark recesses of the temple before he could be seen.

The boy, Sebastos, slipped in through the temple door, pushing it closed behind him, and began to pad across the floor towards the statue. Suddenly he froze, staring at Alcaeos still body, before rushing forwards and dropping to his knees beside the priest; seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was now kneeling in a puddle of the other man's blood in his anxiousness to help.

It was clear from the way his hands fluttered across Alcaeos' body that Sebastos didn't really know what to do. His eyes roamed around until they spotted the discarded and bloodied maul and, without seeming to be aware of what he was doing, the young man reached out to touch it. He picked it up, his face a picture of horror as he stared at it.

"You there! Stop! What are you doing?"

The voice was harsh and loud. Jason turned to see where it was coming from.

A priest he had not seen before was striding across the temple floor, flanked by two guards (although where they had appeared from was anyone's guess). As the group drew level with Jason, they were joined by Eryalus, now without his cloak and looking for all the world as though he had only just arrived. As he came near, his eyes narrowed with cunning.

"I have come from the sanctuary," he said urgently. "I was completing the nightly rituals there when I was attacked from behind. While I lay stunned, someone stole the jewels the King has given as an offering to Hera."

"The jewels are gone?" the other priest demanded.

"I had no time to try to stop the thief," Eryalus lied. "I was taken completely unawares. I can only hope that the Goddess forgives me."

"It was not your fault, Eryalus," the other priest declared, placing a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder. "I am certain that you did all you could."

"I think it is plain what happened here," Eryalus stated.

He gestured towards where Sebastos was kneeling, still alongside Alcaeos' body, with the sword of one of the guards at his throat.

"Alcaeos clearly disturbed the thief as he was about to leave," Eryalus went on. "He was struck down… murdered by this… defiler. We must search him for the jewels… interrogate him before we take him to the High Priest for judgement." He looked at the guards. "Seize him!"

The guards did as they were told and grabbed hold of the hapless young man, dragging him backwards away from Alcaeos with their swords drawn.

"Let me go!" Sebastos demanded. "I am innocent. I came to pray to the Goddess and found him lying like that. I was only trying to help him. Please! I have done nothing wrong!"

"That will be for the Gods to decide," Eryalus hissed nastily. "Take him away."

"Wait!" the other priest said sharply.

As Sebastos had been dragged backwards, he had moved forwards to bend over Alcaeos.

"Our brother is still alive," he declared. "Our first thoughts must be for him."

He looked past Eryalus and the guards to where a young acolyte, clearly drawn by the commotion, was making his way to them, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Go to Cynus and beg the King to send a healer," he instructed the boy. "Hurry! Alcaeos' life may depend upon your speed."

He looked back at the guards, holding the struggling Sebastos between them.

"We will get to the bottom of this matter," he stated. "Take him and lock him up until the High Priest has the time to question him."

Jason turned away, sickened. He knew how this would turn out from the scene he had witnessed earlier; knew that Sebastos would be condemned to death and did not want to see anymore, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The scene faded away again and Jason started to limp off, following his original course and heading towards the latrine. As he walked he wondered, though; why were they being forced to watch these particular scenes from the past? There surely must be a reason for it – but for the life of him, he couldn't think of what that reason might be. It wasn't as if they could change what happened after all, and nothing he was seeing was giving him any hints as to how they might escape from here. He frowned. He needed to talk to Pythagoras as soon as the mathematician was awake. Given how clever his friend was, if there was anyone who could make sense of all this it would be Pythagoras.