Life settled into a comfortable pattern, providing 'comfortable' is a relative concept. Iolaus took gleeful delight in the care of his first daugher, instructing others on how to hold her, as if they'd never touched a baby before, and equal delight in dancing around his beautiful wife, trying to anticipate her every need. He was pleasantly surprised one day, when a giant strode into his yard, carting a large keg of wine under one arm. Giggling at the trail of awestruck villagers who had followed along in the friendly giant's wake, Iolaus tilted his head 'way up, to greet his very welcome visitor.
"Typhon! Gods, it's good to see you! How're Echidna and the kids?" he called.
Typhon lowered himself to one knee, carefully placing the cask on the ground beside him. "They are well, Iolaus and hope you and your family will come to visit soon. You know Echidna loves babies!" the genial giant bellowed, with a huge grin.
Elliara had come to the door, Dawn in her arms, at the sound of the bellowing, and the joyful greeting in her husband's voice. But, she stopped, her mouth opened in awe at the sight of Typhon who, even kneeling, towered over Iolaus.
Laughing, Iolaus went to draw her forward. "Elliara, this is my very good friend, Typhon. Typhon, this is my wife Elliara, and our daughter, Dawn."
The giant nodded solemnly, acknowledging the introduction. "I am very pleased to meet you, Elliara...and so very glad to see my friend, Iolaus, looking so well. He's been very good to me, and my family and we're happy to know he has a family now, too."
Shyly, the giant twisted his head a little to look into the face of the bundle in Elliara's arms. He looked at Iolaus, one eyebrow lifted hopefully, as he held out a hand. "May I?" he asked, with a sweet, innocent voice.
Iolaus nodded, and said quietly to Elliara, "It's alright...he'll be very gentle. You can let him hold her."
Elliara cast a quick look at her husband, then took a deep breath. Stepping forward, she said, "I'm glad to meet you, too, Typhon. I know you and Echidna have been good friends to Iolaus for a long time." She held out her child and laid the infant gently in Typhon's massive palm.
"Ohhh, she's beautiful," Typhon crooned softly, cradling the tiny child carefully in the hollow of his hand, then looked up, his eyes sparkling with tears of joy. "You make sure she knows her Uncle Typhon and Aunt Echidna will always be there if she ever needs us!"
Iolaus had to blink his own eyes, as he nodded, his arm around Elliara's shoulders. "I will," he said, then laughed when Dawn started cooing and giggling up at the giant, unafraid, aware only of the kindness in his eyes, and the security of his massive hand holding her safely.
* * *
The first few months of unmitigated joy flew by, but by the time Dawn was crawling, standing on her own and bravely learning to take her first steps, Iolaus was again lost in fear, worse if possible that the first time. Anya had died giving birth to their second son, and Elliara was now traveling the same path, pregnant again ten months after Dawn had been born.
She no longer played a fulltime role in the Temple, but people would come to their cottage door seeking her words of advice to bring balance and perspective, hope or acceptance, words to lend courage or comfort. Iolaus was becoming annoyed, but she didn't complain and wouldn't hear of turning anyone away.
But, she was tired. Keeping up with a daughter who seemed to have inherited both her father's boundless, restless energy and endless curiosity was a fulltime job. She was less accepting of the nausea which heralded each new day during the first three months. They tried teas, and potions, and dry toasted bread, but nothing much seemed to help. Iolaus took more time with Dawn, and helped around the house, not even pausing to consider how some warlords, and their minions, he had known would howl in delight to see him dusting, washing dishes and pots, or sorting laundry with an active baby curled over his shoulder, or standing clinging to his leg.
The nausea passed, but was followed by tears, sometimes of laughter leading to slight hysteria, sometimes sentimental melancholy and sometimes of almost incoherent anger and frustration. He soothed, hugged, disappeared with Dawn when that seemed to be the temperate thing to do. They celebrated Dawn's first birthday, with Hercules, Jason, and Lilith, Erythia and Pandion. The doting grandmother couldn't get enough of the delightful, laughing child, and both Iolaus and Elliara were grateful for the respite.
The upside of all the busyness and activity, in the house and in the forge, was that Iolaus was too occupied to fixate on his fears. They'd catch him, off-guard, at the strangest moments, when he was rubbing Elliara's back or feet, when he was working in the forge while trying to keep Dawn from creeping around in the dirt and sharp leavings of his work, when he woke in the middle of the night. In those moments, an almost paralyzing terror would sweep over him, clutching at his heart, choking the breath in his throat. He'd break out in a sweat and his hands would tremble.
Irritated with himself, impatient with his own weakness, he tried to argue himself out of the fear, tell himself he was acting like a child who was afraid of the dark, but it didn't help. Reason was not the weapon to battle these terrors, nor was his strength. Nothing but time, and what it would bring, could chase those phantoms of darkness from his heart.
The busyness also stole his time from what had become routine getaways to the forest and stream to visit with Herc. He tried hard not to resent it. He loved his wife and adored his daughter. But, he missed his friend. Hercules seemed to understand, to hold no resentment at being sidelined, at least for a while. But, it bothered Iolaus. More than bothered him. He needed Herc, and the time they spent together. It grounded him. And besides, he just missed the big guy. Missed him with an ache that was always there.
Oh, Herc came by, and even did his bit, taking Dawn for long walks, entertaining her, helping in the forge. He even turned his hand to making the odd soup or casserole, refusing to simply 'snap' them into creation, taking a certain satisfaction in preparing food for the mortals he loved best. And, he tried to help Iolaus cope with his fears, if only to listen and offer encouragement, support and reassurance.
It was all part of normal life. Iolaus sagged into his chair late one night, gazing into the fire. And, he'd thought 'normal life' would be dull. Gods, who had time to even notice.
He was a wreck when the second baby decided on making its entrance to Greece. Herc felt heartfelt relief that this time, though accompanied by what sounded like similar effort, was much shorter in duration. He really wasn't sure whether Iolaus would make it without passing out. The second time Iolaus had had to scramble behind the bushes to vomit in anxious, relentless panic, Herc had had to grab him as he swayed, pushing him to the ground, his head between his knees, and remind him to breathe.
But, Elliara had come through with colours flying. She hadn't thought she could feel such blissful happiness again, but as she held the little one to her breast for the first time, she felt transported by love. This time it was a healthy son, bawling his head off, but just as golden as his blond older sister.
This time, she suggested the name 'Patrocles'. Puzzled, Iolaus looked up from his new son's furious red face. "What ever made you think of that name?" he asked, thinking of the brave, martyred hero of the Trojan War.
"Well," she said shyly, "I always heard he was courageous, but compassionate, brave in his willingness to sacrifice his life for his best friend. When I heard his story, it reminded me of a warrior I've had the good fortune to love."
Iolaus lowered his head, and she combed her fingers through the wild, blond curls. "I'm just glad that my warrior has lived to tell the tales, no matter how often he rushed in against impossible odds, to watch the back and guard the life of the friend he has always loved so well."
"It's a good name," he murmured hoarsely. "He was a good man."
"And so are you, my love," she whispered, as she moved to kiss his cheek, tasting the salty moisture upon it.
* * *
Three more times, Iolaus endured the torments of fear, and three more times Elliara survived, triumphant, the last time giving birth to twin boys. Another daughter and three more sons. Six children in just over eight years. Dawn, Patrocles, Helena, for beauty, Simonides, for wisdom, Alexandros, for courage and Doreion, for joy. While Elliara understood his fear for her, even treasured it as a measure of the depth of his love, she nevertheless became increasingly impatient with it. Most particularly since the older children could sense Papa's terror and it frightened them.
So, on the eve of Alexandros' and Doreion's arrival, fortunately a fast and almost painless affair, despite there being two of them, again 'almost' being a relative term, Iolaus cuddled Elliara in the quiet of the night. "How many children did you hope to have, dear wife of mine?" he asked quietly, realizing they'd never discussed it. The first had come so fast after their marriage, the others following in such rapid order, Elliara not wanting to worry him with the discussion and him not able to even contemplate more in the dizzy aftermath of her successful confinements.
"Why?" she asked. "Do we have too many?"
"No," he chuckled in easy assurance. "But, I've lived fifty summers, and you, my love, are fast approaching forty. So, I thought we might enjoy those we have, without," he almost said 'risking', "being greedy in wanting more."
She curled against him, her head nestled on his shoulder. "Alright, I can be satisfied with the angels we have."
He closed his eyes, and let out a soft sigh, unspeakably glad he'd never have to face that fear for her again.
She smiled quietly, feeling him relax, understanding, and loving him for loving her so well.
* * *
The twins were almost a year old when the first whispers of a possible danger surfaced in the valley. As spring turned to summer, farmers complained bitterly in the tavern that someone was making off with their young lambs...and then a much loved dog disappeared. People assumed there must be a lion in the hills, stealing down in the darkness to hunt more vulnerable beasts. It was a problem, but not one to raise alarm, let alone panic.
The hunters set out, to track and hopefully trap and kill the beast. But, they found no tracks, just the evidence of old kills in isolated crags, the ground too rough to tell them much about the animal they were after, too hard to hold tracks. Several though, Iolaus among them, noticed the recurrance of sharp grooves dug in the dirt. And, they wondered. The gouges were deeper than a lion's claws would make, and they left tracks of three, not five, claws.
Summer wore on, with news of more small animals gone missing, but still no one had seen anything, no tracks, no sign. Children were kept from running free in the forests near their homes, and parents kept a wary eye, most of all when dusk started to fall. Wariness, and a distant worry, turned rapidly to alarm when a child of six from the next village disappeared. An hysterical, inconsolable mother protested the little one had just been outside, behind the house at the edge of the village. She'd heard a sharp cry, and had run outside, but there was nothing there...no one there. Her little girl had simply disappeared, her ragged, well loved doll, lying in the low grass, the only evidence she'd been there at all.
Parents took to keeping their children indoors, unless they were with them. Whines to go outside, harried exclamations for quiet, to settle down, became a constant sound from cottages in all the villages along the deep valley, and in scattered farms in the hollows and hillsides. Tempers frayed, in the heat and in the atmosphere of fear.
The nights had just begun to cool when word swept the valley. A hunter had seen it. The monster. A great winged, scaled ugly thing, with sharp talons, and a jutting beak, had been spotted circling high over the mountains to the west. It was rumoured to be huge, with a wingspan of at least twenty feet. And they already knew it was deadly. A raptor had come to their valley.
And, where there was one, there would soon be more.
* * *
Elliara had settled the babies, putting Simonides down for a nap as well, in one of the two rooms Iolaus and Hercules had added to the cottage, one with bunkbeds for the boys, and the other with two cots for the girls. Dawn was playing a game of toy soldiers with Patrocles and Helena on the floor of the main room. Taking a flask of fresh lemonade, Elliara made her way around the cottage to the forge in back, where she knew Iolaus was working that afternoon.
When she came to its portal, she stopped, startled to see him hammering on his old sword, working out the chips in its well used blade.
"What are you doing?" she asked, leaving the sunlight for the shadows.
Iolaus looked up, lowered the hammer and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Fixing my sword," he said without elaboration.
She handed him the flask, and he took a long, grateful swallow. "Why?" she persisted, only too afraid she could guess.
Handing the flask back to her, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth, he shook his head, knowing they were likely at the beginning of one of their rare, but memorable, fights. "Elliara, it's not going to just fly away and leave this valley in peace."
"I know that," she said, trying to hold to a calm and reasonable tone. "But, what does that have to do with fixing your old sword?" she demanded, making him say it.
He looked at her, then set down the hammer, and grabbed a towel from a hook on the wall, wiping his hands, and his brow, before rubbing it around the back of his neck and across his sweaty chest. Putting it down on a shelf, he walked over to her, to take one of her hands in his. "You know I have to do this, go after it," he said quietly.
She pulled her hand away, "No, I don't know that. Iolaus, you're fifty-one years old. There are others, younger men, who can chase monsters now. You do not have to do this."
Sighing, he tried another tack. "You always understood, when I had to leave...."
"That was ten, fifteen, years ago!" she protested. "Before we married, before we had children. It's not the same now, don't you see? You could be killed!"
He shook his head, his jaw set in a determined line, "It's the young ones who could be killed. They've never gone up against something like this before. They don't know what to expect. I've hunted more monsters than I can count on both hands. I know how to do this."
She stared at him. Reason wasn't working, nor was a call to his sense of responsibility for his family. Maybe, an emotional plea would get his attention. "I don't want you to go," she said, not having to pretend the fear in her voice.
"I know," he said, looking away.
"But, you're going to go anyway," she stated, her voice angry.
He nodded. "Please try to understand, Elliara, it's what I do, who I am...." There was a look almost of pleading in his eyes.
She looked away from it. "No, not anymore. What you do is work in a forge. What you are is a husband with six children to care for. You aren't the young hero you used to be, Iolaus." Turning back to him, tears in her eyes, "Dammit, don't you understand? I love you. I don't want you taking this risk. I need you here, not battered and torn, dead, on some mountainside."
He moved to pull her into his arms, holding her stiff and resisting body against his own. "I love you, too, and the children. I don't do this lightly. It's not an impulsive reach for glory. That thing will keep killing until it's brought down from the sky. You, our family, our friends and neighbours, everyone is at risk until it's destroyed. I know how to do this. There's no one else here who does."
When she just kept seething in brittle silence, he tried a tentative grin. "And, I'm not old...at least, I haven't heard you complaining that I'm losing my vigour! I'm in good shape, just as good as I was ten years ago. I'm a hunter, Elliara. I'm very good at it. And I won't let anyone else get killed while I cower in safety by my hearth."
She wouldn't look at him. There was nothing more she could say. He was going. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his quiver of arrows already filled, his bow newly strung, the pack slumped on the ground beside it, full.
"When are you planning to leave?" she asked, her tone cold.
"In a couple of hours. It hunts at night, so I will, too," he replied, letting his arms fall to his side.
"I'll bring your waterskin. Is there anything else you need from the house?" she asked, her voice distant.
"No, that's all," he replied. "But, you don't have to bring it. I'll come inside in a little while, before I go."
"Fine," she replied, and still without having given him another glance, she turned and went back to the cottage.
Iolaus sighed, and went back to work on his sword. A few minutes later, he plunged it into the cooling barrel, steam rising with a hiss from the water. Then, he took the towel and dried the blade, sliding it into it's sheath.
He didn't want to leave like this. But, he was going. It was something he knew he had to do.
* * *
He left the weapons and pack outside the cottage door when he entered. The kids had figured out something was amiss when their mother had stomped inside a little while before, going to her bedroom and closing the door between the rooms.
Dawn scrambled to her feet when he came in, watching him as he pulled the waterskin from the cupboard and filled it from the barrel next to the kitchen work counter.
"Papa," she asked, "Why's Momma so mad?"
Iolaus turned with a slight, shamefaced grin on his face. "I'm going hunting, sweetie, and she doesn't want me to go."
Dawn frowned. Papa went hunting all the time and Momma didn't ever seem anything but happy about it. Then, understanding lit her bright blue eyes. "You're going after the monster," she breathed, more with excitement than fear. She'd heard her Papa and Uncle Hercules and Uncle Jason talking about when they were young. She was a sharp kid and this wasn't all that hard to figure out.
"Yep, your Papa's going after it. It's just like hunting anything else," he said with a confident voice, to reassure any fears she, or the younger children listening intently behind her, might have.
"Will Uncle Hercules go with you?" Patrocles asked from the floor, a grin on his face. He thought it sounded like a fine adventure!
"Well, son, I sure hope so! Your Uncle Herc is very good at disposing of pesky monsters and we used have a lot of fun chasing them together," Iolaus said, pushing the cork into the spout of the waterskin. "Now, you kids be good, and help your mother while I'm away. It should only take a couple of days," he continued, crossing the floor, to hug them, one after the other.
"We will," they chorused and he chuckled. They were good kids. He was a lucky man.
He poked his head past the door to the boys' room, to watch them sleep for a moment, not wanting to disturb them, then turned and entered their bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. She was lying on the bed, her back to him. He heard a telltale sniff.
Moving to sit behind her, he gently rubbed her shoulders and back. "Please don't be afraid, Elliara, and don't be mad. Wasn't it you who once told me that the future is only 'conjecture, hope and possibility'? You're worried about something bad happening when I know it will be good, it will be the end of the monster, and mean safety for all of us. I'll be fine."
"'Don't make promises you don't know you can keep!'" she said, throwing old words back at him. "I said we can only be sure of today. Well, I want to be sure of today. I want to be sure you're safe."
This wasn't getting them anywhere, and he needed to go before the sun got much lower in the sky. "I love you," he said, quietly, not wanting to fight. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you in a couple of days."
He was at the door when she called him back. Turning, he saw her fling herself off the bed, tears wetting her cheeks, as she flung herself into his arms. He held her tight, his face buried in her hair. "Be safe," she whispered. "I don't ever want to lose you."
He nodded, stroked her hair, and kissed her. "Don't be afraid, Elliara. It'll be all right."
Then, he turned and was gone.
* * *
Iolaus headed directly into the forest, jogging along the old path toward the broken down, ancient temple to Aphrodite, then past it, heading up the valley. He called out, more than once, as he ran, "Yo! Herc! Iolaus to Hercules? We got us a monster to hunt!"
But, so far at least, he hadn't gotten any response. Shrugging, unconcerned, he carried on through the cool shadows of the deep forest until he'd reached the river, and then he followed its path through the long hills, that led up to steep crags.
He remembered where they'd found evidence of the kills, clustered up in the crags at the far end of the valley. It was in the same area where the hunter had made the sighting two days before. Glad the air had cooled a bit from the steamy heat of the past summer, he kept up a steady pace, racing the sun, for the next couple of hours. He wanted to be in the area before shadows blanketed the land, as twilight stole the ends of the day, leaving the silence of the night.
'Old," he snorted, 'she as much as said I'm old!' he thought as he ran, enjoying the feel of the muscles in his legs as he pounded along the earth, and the pull of air in his chest, as he loped in the steady pace he'd perfected years ago. He knew years had passed. He knew there was more grey than blond in his hair these days. But, he didn't feel old. Not inside. Inside, he felt the same exhilaration and excitement as he'd always felt when he'd set out on these quests. He felt alive, fully alive.
His plan was to climb the mountainside, going higher than they had before, to trace the monster to its lair. He had rope he could use to lasso it, bring it down from the air, and tie it to the ground. He had arrows to shoot into a soft underbelly, if there was one, and a sword to slash its neck or skewer its heart, if there wasn't. It was a matter of patience, cunning and skill. Gods, from all they'd heard or been able to surmise, this one didn't even breathe fire. Piece of cake.
But, speaking of fire, he thought a fireball or two might prove useful, and wondered where his errant partner was loitering. Years might pass, but in Iolaus' mind, and in Herc's, they both knew they would always be 'partners'. So, where was he?
Coming to a halt at the far end of the valley, in the lengthening shadow of the hill he was about to begin climbing, he cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed, "HERCULES!" He waited a moment, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. "Well, don't complain this time that I 'didn't even call'," he said conversationally, then shrugged and began the climb up through the trees to a high, broad meadow.
Coming to the gates of a hill farmer, he pushed them open and jogged along the lane to the cottage. Knocking on the door, he tapped a booted toe on the ground, and turned to watch the long pink streaks across the deep indigo sky. It would be dark before long.
The door opened, and Iolaus turned back with a grin. "Celestia, is your charming husband around?"
She cracked a grin back at him. 'Charming' wasn't the word most folks would use to describe her taciturn man. Laughing at the handsome man in her doorway, silver blond wild curls, brilliant dancing eyes, devilish grin, garbed in a hunter green short jacket over black leather pants, patched at the knees, she nodded her head with mock regret, "Aye, he is, Iolaus, we'll have to plan a more discreet meeting."
He laughed with her, and entered when she pulled the door wide. It was a warm, comfortable room, a fire in the hearth, a fragrant stew in the pot. Patchwork quilts were draped over stuffed chairs near the fire, and Bruxius was seated at the polished pine wood table. One brow lifted in welcome and enquiry, as he remarked, "Tis late for a visit, Iolaus. What brings you our way?"
Iolaus sat down across from him, accepting a mug of homebrewed ale from Celestia with a grateful smile. "I'm after that monster that lives up in the mountains above. But, it'd help to have some bait. I wondered if you might sell me a young sheep?" Iolaus explained, before taking a sip of the rich, amber brew.
"Ummm," he sighed in appreciation, setting the mug down.
He'd gotten straight to the point, and waited while Bruxious pondered his request. Well used to the man, respecting him, Iolaus also knew the farmer had no use for small talk or 'nonsense' as he called what most folks considered polite communication and exchange of gossip. Bruxious liked to stick to the facts...and he liked them as simple and clear as possible.
"You going alone?" the farmer asked
Iolaus shrugged, "I expect Hercules will join me sometime this evening."
The farmer nodded, and rose to his feet. "I've got an animal you can take along."
Iolaus rose as well, digging into his coat pocket for the price of the sheep, but Bruxious shook his head, as he pushed a battered hat onto his head, and shrugged into his own wellworn sheepskin coat. "Nay, Iolaus. If you can hunt the creature, I can at least provide the bait. Come along to the pen," he said gruffly, leading the way out into the gathering dusk.
The sheep were penned at the side of the barn, and it took only a moment for Bruxious to cut one out, "Come along ya stupid beastie," he said sternly to the hapless sheep, looping a fifteen foot length of rope around it's wooly throat, and handing the tether to Iolaus. "'E'll not give you any trouble. Timid they are," he said.
"Thanks, Bruxious, I appreciate this. If I can save it, I'll bring it back," Iolaus promised.
"They're cute, I'll grant ye, Iolaus, but your skin is worth a sight more than this un's. Take no risks for the sheep, my friend," the farmer said sentiously, as he clapped the smaller man on the shoulder. "Be very careful...I saw the creature this past dawn. It's an ugly brute, and very large." He cast a doubtful look down at Iolaus, not meaning to insult, concern shadowing his eyes. He liked this little fellow, had fire, he did. But, there was no missing the fact he was small.
Iolaus just chuckled, warmed by the concern. "Don't worry, my friend. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Small and quick can do this trick!" he couldn't resist adding, a teasing light in his eyes.
An answering chuckle rumbled deep in the other man's throat. "Ye're a brave man, though not humble, just take care ye do not stumble," the farmer replied, a glint in his own eyes.
Iolaus broke up. He wasn't sure how many others knew that Bruxious, stern and sober as he appeared to be, had a riotous sense of humour, and loved to rhyme. Must come from hanging around with sheep, he imagined. Long days on the hills with no company can drive a man to play with words. Recovering, Iolaus clasped the farmer's arm, then turned to tug the sheep along behind as he continued up the long hill, calling back over his shoulder, "If all goes well, with no hesitating, I'll see you at dawn. Have breakfast waiting!"
He grinned in delight when he heard a low, rumbling laugh follow him up the hill.
Glad that sheep were surefooted critters, Iolaus made steady progress up above the treeline, over the increasingly steep, and rocky, ground. Night had fully fallen, but there was a full moon, so it wasn't difficult to find his way. A chill had settled with the darkness though, and he was glad of his warm coat, taking a moment to button it up to his chin.
Studying the stars, and the path of the moon, he decided it must still be some hours short of midnight. He climbed up past the last place where they'd found remains, heading to a crag about five hundred feet further up, going as quietly as possible now. There were caves up there, and he'd bet that's where he'd find the lair.
Tying the sheep some distance away from the series of caves, Iolaus crept cautiously toward them. The monster was probably out hunting, but it never hurt to be careful. He paused at each entrance, listening intently, then threw a handful of pebbles into the cave mouth, again listening for the scrabble of talons or other sound indicating an irritated or curious beast. When he heard nothing, he quietly entered each possible den, looking for evidence of meals past.
He found what he was looking for in the third cave.
Satisfied that he now knew where the monster slept, he emerged from the cave, studying the land around. He was standing on a narrow ledge, which dropped for about a hundred feet to a wider span of rock below, before it, too, gave way to a sheer drop of about two hundred feet. Squatting, he studied the access to the ledge below, and looked for any possible cover upon it. There were a few, squat bushes, to which he could tether the sheep. Not far from them was a sizeable rock outcrop and a boulder he could hide behind, that would also give him some cover from above, while he waited for the monster to come after the bait. And, best of all, there was reasonable access. The path was narrow, and crooked, more a sheep's trail than anything, but it led around the side of the mountain to the ledge below.
Nodding, he stood and turned back to get the sheep, and to find a way down to the path he'd spotted.
It took another hour to work himself around and down, but the way wasn't difficult. When he tied the sheep's tether to one of the bushes, it bleated at him, while wide, soulful eyes stared up at him.
He sighed, digging his fingers into the thick wool behind one ear, to scratch the animal. "I know, I'm heartless and cruel. But, I'll really try to get it before it gets you. And you know it's only a matter a time before you end up in someone's stew anyway, so don't look at me like that. I feel bad enough as it is about this," he murmured softly. The young sheep bleated again, then turned around and laid on the ground, quickly falling asleep.
"Well, good, I'm glad you're relaxed, but when it shows up, I want you to get up and yell at it. Okay? Okay. Glad we understand each other," Iolaus whispered, then headed back to his own place under the shallow ledge, behind the outjutting boulder. He pulled the forty foot length of thin but sturdy rope from his pack, and fashioned a lasso. Checking his bowstring, the arrows for ease of access, and loosening his sword in its sheath, he settled back to wait, hunkered down against the wall behind him, his collar pulled up against the cold and his arms crossed for warmth.
As ready as he could be, he looked out over the ledge, across the span of air across to the far mountain, and down to the dark well of the valley below. And he waited.
* * *
The moon had set, and the first gray hint of dawn was lighting the far eastern sky, when Iolaus yawned, stretched, and froze. Was there something...yes! A darker shadow was moving silently in the night, winging its way back to its lair. He saw it dip and swirl in the light wind, admiring its grace even as he plotted its destruction. He threw a handful of small rocks at the sheep, to wake it up. Startled, it rose indignantly, alert to danger, bleating miserably when it found it couldn't move to some new location. It tugged at the rope securing it to the bush, making enough noise, creating enough motion, to satisfy the hunter.
He ducked behind his modest shelter, and shook out the improvised lariat, ready to make his move. He'd been disappointed that Hercules hadn't shown up yet, but resigned that his friend was no doubt off somewhere doing something necessary. Otherwise, he'd have come when Iolaus had first called him, let alone the other dozen times.
The monster swept in over the shelf, still high, examining the unexpected prey, its beady eyes watching the shadows, not really expecting any other predators, but naturally cautious. Seeing nothing but the delectable breakfast on the hoof below, it swooped down, neck arched, talons flaring.
Iolaus waited, waited, then stood, swirling the rope over his head, and throwing it with unerring aim, so that it looped neatly around the monster's long neck. Quickly, his eyes off the beast for a few, fast moments, he moved to tie the rope off, to anchor it, around the large boulder he'd crouched beside all night, before the monster could dart off, dragging the end of the rope from his hand.
As he had predicted unconsciously, the rope had tightened fast, as the monster reacted instanteously to the foreign object around its throat, flying high and away from the ledge until it was yanked harshly when it reached the end of its tether. The monster's startled, and very angry, rasping call of protest echoed over the valley as it flapped madly to regain its balance. The sheep was bawling its little head off, frightened to its bones by the raptor which had almost grasped it in its claws.
But, the thing was quick, and born for battle. Iolaus had barely tied the rope off, when he saw it go slack and turned to see the monster diving at him, only a few feet away. He swiveled and dropped in instinctive reaction, huddling into the paltry shelter of stone, his arms up to protect his head.
This wasn't going quite the way he had planned. The dumb monster was supposed to flap around out there, trying to get loose, while he took a few leisurely shots with his bow. But, the monster wasn't so dumb.
And the hunter had just become the hunted.
Mighty wings flapped the sky, creating loud snaps of sound as it bore down upon him. A shrill cry whistled from the wicked serrated beak, and sharp talons reached for its enemy.
Iolaus yelled when the sharp claws tore at his coat, raking it, finally penetrating to gouge deep into his left shoulder, tearing muscle, scraping bone. He wrenched out his sword, spinning, still trying to protect his head, as he lashed out with his weapon, yelling his head off, in the hopes noise might disconcert it.
No such luck. But, his sword did gouge a long slash into the monster's leathery leg, beating it back for a breathless moment. But only a moment. Shrieking in fury, it came at him again. He ducked to spin out from the corner of rock. What had seemed a shelter was a trap, and he needed room to manoever. Dodging the claws, lashing out again with his blade, he rolled under the attack coming up in the middle of the shelf of rock, which all of a sudden seemed much narrower than it had an hour before.
He jabbed up with the sword, as the monster dove past, still targeted on where he had been. He slashed a deep cut in the belly of the beast, swearing in disgust at the green, foul goop which streamed over him. The monster's cries turned to a gutteral roar, as it wheeled, a wing beating down on him, driving him closer to the edge. "HERC!" he yelled, spinning to his knees, sword held high over his head, "I could use a little help here!"
His sword struck out at one descending set of talons, but the other got passed him. Ducking again, to flatten onto the rock of the shelf, he felt the talons dig into his coat, shredding the material, dragging him as beast fought for a better grip.
Dragging him inexorably toward the edge.
He twisted, slashing back, yelling again as skin was torn from his back. He screamed up at the beast, as he dug the almost useless fingers of his numb left hand into the dirt, to slow the drag, "Would you get off me! My wife's going to kill me for ruining this coat!" He scrabbled for some hold, digging his sword into the rocky earth, gripping it, but it tore loose. "Dammit," he swore, as he felt his left leg dangle into space.
"HERCULES!" he screamed again, as he felt himself dragged over the edge. He reached with his right hand to grab the edge, but it crumbled away under his fingers, and he was falling.
He twisted in the air, instinctively trying to ensure he landed on his back. He'd be a mess when they found him, but at least, at least his family would be able to bear to look at his face. 'I'm sorry,' he thought, as he plummeted to the earth, hoping Elliara might someday forgive him.
He kept his eyes open, staring at the sky, at the first pale fingers of the dawn which crept across the night, dimming the stars. 'Gods, it's a long way down,' he thought, before consciously closing his eyes. He'd look like he was sleeping. It would be easier on her, on Hercules, when they brought him home.
Expecting the impact, ready for it, he was shocked when it wasn't quite like he'd expected.
"OOMMMPPHHH!" The air rushed from his lungs with the force of being caught, his plummet slowed by the arms which had pulled him from the air. Hercules crashed to his knees, and both of them ended up sprawled on the hard, rocky earth, Herc having rolled to end up on the bottom, Iolaus still clutched tightly against his chest.
"You IDIOT!" Hercules shouted at him.
Winded, Iolaus was at the slight disadvantage of not being able to shout back. "I called," he croaked, gasping.
"What did you think you were doing?" Hercules snarled.
"You said we could go after monsters!" Iolaus gasped back, hardly able to believe he was still alive.
"TOGETHER, you dunderhead! Impulsive, thoughtless, stupid, IDIOT!" Hercules snapped back.
"Glad you showed up, Herc," Iolaus managed a weak giggle. He loved it when Herc yelled at him. It meant that, for sure, he was alive.
Hercules laid his head back on the stony slope, rolling his eyes. "What am I going to do with you, Iolaus?" he muttered.
"Help me kill a monster?" Iolaus suggested, hopefully, his breathing coming back to normal.
"You couldn't wait for me?" Herc demanded with a weary, 'here we go again' voice.
"Well, I didn't know how long you'd be, and the thing has already killed one poor little kid, and well, I just figured you'd show up. And I was right. You did," Iolaus explained, finishing a little smugly.
"Lucky for you," Hercules sighed.
"Um, Herc, do you think you could let me up now?" Iolaus asked meekly.
Hercules debated the wisdom of that idea for a moment, then relaxed his arms. It was when he moved his hand to help Iolaus crawl off him that he noticed the blood, and the grimace on Iolaus' face as he tried to lever himself up with one arm.
Hastily, Hercules gripped his friend, more gently this time, and helped him roll off to the side, onto his knees, as Herc came up to a sitting position beside him. "You're hurt," he observed with concern, "let me see."
Iolaus twisted a little to give Hercules access to his back, as Herc rolled up onto his own knees, reaching out with light fingers to seek the source of the blood and evaluate the severity of the wounds. The back of Iolaus' coat was a mess, scored and ripped, sodden with blood. His eyes narrowed in worry, he said, "You'll have to take the coat off. I can't see well enough to tell how bad it is."
Iolaus moaned softly as they slid the ruined garment from his shoulders. The numbness born of shock and adrenaline had started to wear off, and the left shoulder especially was throbbing badly.
"Oh, nice, Iolaus, very nice," Hercules murmured, sarcastically, as he examined his buddy's shoulder and back. The long scratches along the back looked worse than they were, having torn only the skin. But, the shoulder was of more concern. Though the wounds were bleeding freely from three deep gouges, Herc could still see the dull white of Iolaus' shoulder blade past the shredded skin and muscle. He grabbed the coat, and tore what was left of it into strips. Bunching a wad of material over the wound, he wound the rest around Iolaus' neck, chest and under his arm, to loop around, forming a pressure bandage.
Noticing his buddy was trembling, from shock and cold, Herc snapped his fingers and a new, identical coat appeared in his hand. He helped Iolaus into it, and settled his friend against a rock to support his back.
Iolaus cocked an eyebrow. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked, since he couldn't see the wounds for himself.
Herc gazed at him. "You were lucky, I think. There are three bad tears, but they should heal. Barring infection, I think you'll be okay. That's if Elliara doesn't kill you."
Iolaus grinned, looking chagrined. "Well, yeah, and that's a big 'if'," he said.
Above, they could hear the furious raptor fighting the rope which still held it to the ledge. It wanted to go after it's attacker, finish him off. The pain from the wounds in its own legs and belly weren't improving its disposition any.
Herc glanced up at it. Standing, judging the distance and wind, he pulled an arm back, then flung it forward and up, fire streaming behind a massive ball of energy, that had been timed perfectly to catch the monster as it flapped its mighty wings in a mad frenzy to pull itself loose.
There was a quick, sharp scream, and then the charred remains dropped, landing not far from them. Iolaus looked at it whimsically, "Charbroiled monster on the wing," he commented drily, then turned to Hercules. "You make it look so easy. Takes the fun out of the hunt, don't you think?"
Herc just snorted. "If you'd have waited, it would have been easy," he scolded, looking down at his pale friend.
Deciding attack was always preferable to retreat, Iolaus chided back, "Well, I tracked it and tied it down. All you had to do was shoot. Where were you anyway? I called and called. Called and called. But you never came, Hercules." His voice was that of a woeful soul, lost in the night, having no choice but to have carried on bravely, all by himself.
Shaking his head, Herc looked up at the brightening sky. "Ares is branching out, creating trouble up in Macedonia. I was trying to argue some reason into him," Iolaus snorted at that impossibility, and Herc nodded in agreement, as he continued, "when 'Dite found me. Elliara is some upset, Iolaus. 'Dite says she's never seen the calm and cool, perpetually cheerful wife of yours this frightened or angry."
Iolaus just nodded. It was no more than he had expected. "Yeah, well, she wasn't all that happy when I left. We'll work it out," he sighed. "But, would you come home with me, you know, to protect me?"
Hercules chuckled. "No way. You're on your own with this one. I'll see you to the door and safely into her hands, but that's all. Maybe you could try your 'bravely suffering wounded warrior' bit. That might distract her."
"Uh, no, I don't think so," Iolaus replied, remembering her brittle reminder that he wasn't a young warrior anymore, he was an old blacksmith with a wife and six kids. "Better I try to hide the damage, and pretend it's just a scratch. And forget to tell her about your spectacular catch."
Hercules shook his head. "You might as well face it, Iolaus. She's going to find out."
"You're going to tell her, aren't you?" accused Iolaus.
"Uh huh," Herc confirmed, with a grin. "It was a spectacular catch, and I deserve to enjoy her boundless thanks...."
"Some friend you are," Iolaus groused.
Laughing, Herc reached out a hand to help him up, but Iolaus didn't move. "There's a sheep up there, and my gear. Would you mind getting it for me?" he asked, shivering, reaction starting to set in.
"A sheep?" Herc asked, one brow raised.
"Yeah. I told it if it was good and did its part, I'd take it home. It's tied to a bush," Iolaus explained.
Chuckling ruefully, Herc asked before he disappeared, "Do you always have to make friends with all the little animals while you lead them to the slaughter?"
Iolaus called out to the empty air, protesting, "Hey, I didn't let it get hurt!" And, then, he laughed too, but the action jerked his shoulder. Wincing, he stopped, and laid his head back against the rock, closing his eyes to rest while Herc led the sheep back down the mountain.
Elliara had been right. He really was getting too old for this.
* * *
One hand holding the sheep's tether and the other supporting Iolaus, Herc eased them down the steeper parts and through the forest to Bruxious' farm. Spotting them, the farmer came out to meet them, relieving Hercules of the sheep.
Eying Iolaus, Bruxious asked, "So, did you get the creature then?"
Iolaus nodded, "Yep, tracked it right up to its den."
"You're not bad hurt, are you lad?" the farmer enquiried.
"Nah, just a scratch, not too bad," Iolaus responded.
"Well, breakfast's ready, if you can stay a mite," Bruxious told them, falling into step as they continued down the hill.
"Just what I love, food after a fight!" Iolaus replied with a grin.
Hercules was listening to the banter, with a bemused expression. The first rhyme he'd thought an accident, the second a coincidence, but now he knew it was a game.
"If you've got some cloth, I'll tend his back," Hercules observed to the farmer.
"Yeah, sure, the wife's got quite a stack," the taciturn man replied.
Iolaus giggled, then winced, while Hercules chuckled.
"Bruxious, I didn't know you liked to rhyme," the god said, with a grin.
"Ah, well, you know, it passes the time."
Bruxious put the sheep back into the pen then led the way to the house. Celestia hastily took over the care of Iolaus' wounds, washing them and binding them with herbs and clean rags. They ate lightly, but Iolaus was starting to flag and Herc figured he'd better get his charge home.
They took it slow, but were still back by midafternoon, just a day after he'd left. Hercules, true to his word, escorted Iolaus to his door and gave him into Elliara's good keeping.
She was too relieved to see him home to make much of a fuss in front of Hercules, or the children, but it was a good week before she had fully forgiven him.
She'd never been so angry before, or so frightened. At first, Iolaus wasn't sure how to handle it. He was back, it was over, no lasting harm done. Flare ups, like the ones he and Herc had always had, brief yelling matches, he was used to. They cleared the air, and moved on. But not the silence. He tried to ignore it, but then he just got irritated.
Finally after a week of it, while the younger ones were napping and the older ones were outside playing, Iolaus sat her down before the hearth to have it out. She hadn't been acting mad. She'd cared for his injuries, replied pleasantly to any comments he'd made or questions he'd asked. But, she didn't initiate any conversation, and, at night, she stayed well on her side of the bed, ostensibly so as to not jostle his shoulder while they were sleeping.
Now, she sat across from him, apparently willing enough, but still seeming oddly remote.
Iolaus licked his lips. "When are you going to forgive me?" he asked, getting straight to the point.
She gazed at him, her eyes cool. "I don't know."
"Elliara," he sighed, "I know you didn't want me to go. I know you were worried. But, its not like I do something like that every day, or even once a year. Gods, that was the first time since we married. I had to go after it."
She waited. He hadn't asked a question, so she didn't feel obliged to make any response.
"I'm back, I'm fine. If you're mad, then yell at me. But, I can't stand much more of this silent treatment. It's not like you. And, I don't understand why you can't let it go," he said, his tone a mixture of confusion and exasperation.
"You could have been killed," she said, her voice sharp, and then the words came in a rush. "I have never been so scared in my life, Iolaus. I could have lost you. When you walked through that door, heading into such danger, I thought my heart would stop. You don't know, you never knew, how hard it always was to let you go, to know I might never see you again. But, I did, because I had to, because it was right."
She paused, then said more quietly, "But, I'd come to feel you were finally safe. For so many years, we've lived without any threat or danger, without any reason for you to go to face the gods know what. I forgot how to do it. To let you walk away from me, knowing you might die." Her voice cracked, and she blinked at the tears which had appeared in her eyes.
"You are my world," she whispered, trying desperately to maintain some vestige of control. "You're the reason I want to get up every morning and go to bed at night. You are my sun. Without you, there is only darkness. Don't you understand? I don't think I can live without you anymore. I don't want to. I'm not angry, not mad. I'm sick with fear. Afraid to let you get close again. I...couldn't bear to ever let you go again, not knowing...." her voice broke, and tears poured down her face.
She sat there, completely vulnerable, not knowing what to do with a love that brought this much pain.
In a heartbeat, he was on his knees in front of her, folding her into his arms, holding her while she sobbed against his bandaged shoulder. He stroked her back, one hand tangled in her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know. You're always so strong. So understanding. I didn't know I'd scared you this badly."
Gradually, the sobs subsided. "I don't want to ask, I can't demand," she murmured brokenly, "but, I beg you, please don't do this again."
He held her quietly, rubbing her back, wondering what he could say. Gently, he pushed her back.
"Elliara," he began, then paused, wondering if it was a fair analogy, and decided it was the only one he had to help her understand. "You remember how frightened I was each time you were going to have one of our children. How terrified I was that you would die?"
When she nodded, brushing her eyes and cheeks, sniffing, he continued. "Okay, then. Each time one of the children came, I felt just like you did last week. Helpless. Scared to death I'd lose you. And, you told me then, that life's a risk. You've always told me we have to enjoy our todays, because we never know what tomorrow might bring. It never got better, Elliara. I was always sick with fear for you. But, we kept having children. Because we love them. Until, I asked you if we could stop, because I didn't think I could face it even one more time...not the fear, the risk of losing you. So, I understand something of what you felt when I went after that monster."
He paused, brushing his fingers through her hair, cupping her cheek, brushing a last tear away with his thumb. "I'm sorry you were so frightened. But, I can't promise that I won't, someday, have to go away again. I hope I won't have to. I won't go alone, again. I promise. But, sometimes, we have to do what we wish wasn't necessary. Maybe that day will never come again. But, if it does, I hope you'll understand. Until then, we have today. And you have to know that I love you, and I will love you every 'today' for as long as I live."
"So, you're saying I should be able to let you go at least four more times before I ask you to stop for good?" she asked, one brow raised in enquiry as she looked into his eyes.
He looked at her, not at first knowing if she was serious. But, then, he saw a glimmer of a twinkle in her eyes, and he smiled, pulling her back into his arms. "Oh no," he said warmly, "I doubt there'll ever be four more times I'd have to face a monster in the next fifty years. No, I won't put you through the same number of terrors you made me endure."
She smacked him, lightly. "It's not like I did it all on my own, you idiot."
He just laughed softly, "Yeah, I know. But you never seemed too sympathetic about how scared I was."
"So, you want a medal for being more understanding than I was?" she asked, with the hint of a giggle.
He shook his head. "Nah, you have to know that kind of fear, before you can understand it in someone else. I had that advantage."
She pushed back a little, to look up at him. "I love you," she said simply.
"More than I deserve," he replied.
"You got that right!" she grinned back. Then, she kissed him.
* * *
Life settled back into its comfortable routine. Iolaus' shoulder healed cleanly, and since he couldn't see the scars, he forgot about it. She wasn't so able to forget. For the rest of her life, those scars reminded her of what love means, when that love has captured your soul.
Months, and then years, passed. The children grew, and though Iolaus had a hard time being civil to Dawn's admirers, he knew the young have to find their own way, their own paths. And, he knew he still had enough of a reputation to dissuade any young scamp from trying too many liberties. Nevertheless, he kept a close watch on the ones who reminded him most of himself when he was young.
Elliara, of course, just laughed at him, and Dawn paid him no attention at all. He didn't scare her.
He didn't know how it had happened, but he found himself with four married children, nine grandchildren and two boys already courting their own life mates. All of his sons were taller, and now a good deal stronger, than he was.
His hair was still thick, but it had long been completely gray. Elliara, too, was gray, but she moved with energy and her impish humour could still match his own. Ten years older than she was, he was forced to acknowledge he was slowing down. He still fiddled around in the forge, making toys for the grandkids. But, more and more lately, he found himself heading for the stream, deep in the forest, to fish.
Hercules came often, and Iolaus was always glad to see him. But, he envied his friend's perpetual youth and strength. Hercules had been a god for thirty years, and somehow, he'd managed to keep his urge to help mortals to the limits he'd accepted of dealing with Ares directly. More often than not, they'd held each other to a stalemate, and Greece had enjoyed almost a generation of relative peace. But, Ares was getting seriously bored, and Hercules knew real trouble was on the way. His heart ached with the realization, knowing there were limits he could not transgress...would not transgress.
It didn't help when Iolaus cajoled and then argued with him to intervene more directly, especially when Ares' forces started to march. Herc knew a good part of Iolaus' irritation was grounded in his own inability to intervene, to make the difference he could have made thirty years before. Silently, the god took the anger, and the jibes, his jaw tight, his eyes turned away.
"Damn it, Hercules. I've had a long life, and a happy one. You don't need to keep the deal for me anymore," Iolaus argued, knowing he was the one holding Hercules back. His life. It wasn't worth the thousands who would die. Not to him.
But, it seemed it was to Hercules.
Disgusted, Iolaus walked away.
Elliara could see his restlessness and frustration grow. Knew he despised his weakness, his inability to enter the conflict, to end it.
"Iolaus," she said quietly, coming to join him late one night, as he sat on the bench under the old oak, staring up at the stars. "How can I help you, my love? How can I help you accept what you can't change or stop?"
He looked up at her, then took her hand, drawing her down to sit beside him, looping an arm around her shoulders, to draw her close. "Ah, Elliara, it's just that I know what one man, or two, can do. To inspire, to lead, to finish a conflict before it's barely begun. It doesn't take thousands, to save thousands. It can take only one."
He looked up at the stars, biting his lip, "Years ago, I could have been that man. But, not today. I've haven't the strength any longer, or the energy. But, it breaks my heart that our sons may have to fight, and die..." his voice cracked. "They don't know how, none of them, none of the young ones today. They've enjoyed peace for so long...."
She hugged him, feeling the trembling of his sorrow. "I'm afraid, too, for our children, and all the other children who will suffer from this war."
He tightened his grip around her. "One day," he muttered, "If I could only have just one day, it could be enough. Gods, Elliara, I feel young inside, strong inside. But, my body's grown old...and weak."
There was a tone of self-loathing in his voice that she couldn't bear to hear. This wasn't his war, wasn't his responsibility.
But, he knew it was. He was the chain that bound Hercules' hands. And, for the first time in thirty years, he felt the anger he'd felt when he'd first learned of the deal Herc had made for his life. And he felt the guilt.
"One day," he whispered again in frustration and despair, knowing he might as well hope for the sun to stand in the sky. It was impossible.
She knew of the bargain that had been made between gods long ago. Iolaus had told her of it, just the night before, with frustrated helplessness and mounting guilt. He believed it was his life that stood in the way.
And, she was afraid of what he might do, believing that as he did.
"If there was one day I could give you, Iolaus, one day of youth and strength, what would you do?" she asked.
He laughed bitterly at the idea, but entered the game of 'what if'. "I'd meet Ares' forces in battle, lead our own, lead them to victory," he said.
"Well, you've never had a lack of confidence," she said, dryly.
"No," he had to smile, "No, I guess I haven't." But, then his face lost its animation, and he turned to her. "Elliara, I can't stand by and watch this happen, not if there is something I can do to free Hercules to act."
She froze, knowing what he was trying to say to her, knowing he hoped she'd understand. Failing a natural death in the next few days, he planned to take his own life. He could see no other resolution.
"No," she said, pulling away from him. "No, not that. Give me a day. Let me see if I can find a way to give you yours."
He smiled sadly at her. "Elliara, it's impossible."
"No, my love," she responded, "The future can hold any possibility. Give me a day."
One more day would make little difference. Ares' forces, and those of the United League of City States, would not come together tomorrow. He could give her one more 'today'. Nodding, he pulled her close, "Alright, honey," he said, quietly, but without hope, "I'll give you a day."
* * *
She went to the Temple and fell to her knees, praying with all her heart to the Goddess who had always heard her, always favoured her. She'd not asked much in all her sixty years. Only twice, once when the warlord had come after Iolaus seeking vengence, and the second time, twenty years before, when she'd begged Aphrodite to send Hercules to Iolaus when he'd set out to kill the monster.
And, now, she begged again. Knowing it might not save her husband, that he might die in the battle he was so eager to join. But, better that, that he die trying to save the young, trying to save Greece from the wrath of a blood-thirsty god, than that he die by his own hand. And, he might well live. He'd been the greatest mortal warrior in Greece in his prime. He'd survived the impossible time and time again. Gods, he'd even come back from the Light to save the world.
Better the possibility that he might live, than the surety that he would die.
She prayed throughout the night, and into the day which followed, oblivious to those who moved around her, the priestesses, the supplicants...even Iolaus, when he came to take her home. She was unmovable, and would remain so, until she'd received an answer.
Whatever that answer might be.
Aphrodite heard her prayers, prayers made from a soul bound in love, prayers grounded in that love. And she could not ignore them. Ares might be royally pissed, but that didn't bother her much. Hercules would be furious at the risk she could allow Iolaus to take. But, he'd never recover if Iolaus took his own life, so that Hercules might stop this abomination from happening. 'Dite hated war. Usually, there was little she could do to intervene, to stop it.
But, this time, she could act. She could act in the name of love, in response to a request made with love.
Iolaus would have his day.
It was late in the afternoon when Aphrodite appeared, and drew Elliara up from her knees. "Hey, enough already!" she said gently, "Like I heard you hours ago. It just took me awhile to make up my mind."
"Please," Elliara whispered, still intent upon her request.
"You know what you're asking? You know the risks?" 'Dite asked, not because she doubted it, but because she knew she'd have some fast explaining to do, and she wanted all her arguments in order.
Elliara nodded, her face pale, her still brilliant eyes full of resolve.
'Dite nodded. "Okay, well, I know he knows the risks. Been there, done that, got the Tshirt, and now he's ready to do it all over again." She shook her head. Curly never ceased to amaze her.
"Will you help? Will you do this?" Elliara implored.
Nodding, 'Dite replied, "Tell Curly to be here at sunset. I'll give him a full day, from sunset to sunset. He'll need time to get to the field where the battle is to take place tomorrow at dawn. He'll need a chariot and fast horses. I'll supply them, too. Tell him to bring his sword. He's gonna play hero one more time." The Goddess spoke with determination, and then she smirked, "He's gonna whip Ares' ass!"
Tears spilled from Elliara's eyes, as she knelt before the Goddess in gratitude, and dared to take one of 'Dite's hands, to kiss. "Thank you," she whispered, overcome.
"Don't be silly," 'Dite exclaimed, pulling the woman back up to stand before her, "I'm gonna enjoy this! A chance to see Sweetcheeks in all his glory...this is not to be missed! Now, go on, go tell him to get his butt in gear!"
Elliara needed no more encouragement. Too aware of the risks of the morrow to be jubilant, she was still triumphant. She'd gotten her man the one day he wanted. It was the best gift she could bring him, and it was brought with all the love in her soul.
* * *
"Iolaus!" she cried, as she ran into their yard. "Iolaus!" He jogged around the corner of the cottage, from the forge, having heard her excited voice.
"What is it?" he asked, coming up to her, wondering at the glow in her eyes, on her face.
"You have your day," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"What?" She couldn't be serious. It was impossible.
She nodded, taking his hand in hers. "Aphrodite says you are to meet her at the Temple at sunset, and you are to bring your sword. She will have a chariot and horses waiting. And she will give you your day, from sunset today, until sunset tomorrow."
Her face crumpled, and she reached for him, holding him tightly while she cried. His arms came up around her, to hold her. But, he was in shock, struggling to believe, to grasp what she had done for him.
And, then it hit. His arms tightened and he hugged her with all the strength he had. Bending his face to her hair, he wept. He'd be young, and strong. He'd have a chance. "Oh Gods, Elliara, my love, my own sweet love. Thank you!" he whispered. "Thank you."
They fought for control, and parted, each drawing in gulps of air, as if they had run a race. He cupped her cheek, "You understand, I will try to return, but...."
He remembered her old fear, and knew what this had cost her.
She nodded, "I know. And, I'm afraid. But, I want you to do this. I know you must."
He looked up to the sky, and saw he only had an hour. Turning, he jogged back to the forge, and built up the fire. Pulling his old sword from its sheath, he set to work, tempering it in the fire. Honing it to perfection.
An hour later, he was back, and she was waiting for him. Together, they walked to the Temple, hand in hand. They climbed the steps and entered, waiting for the Goddesss to appear.
She didn't keep them waiting long. "Hey, there, Curly, I hear you want to kick some ass?" she drawled.
He chuckled, "Yeah, that's the general idea. I hear you can help me do it."
"You betcha!" she crowed, snapping her fingers. There was a flash of blinding light, and when it passed, Iolaus stood before her, in the prime of his manhood, dressed as he had been then, in the purple, patched vest, black leather pants with patches on the knees, wide leather belt with the silver hook clasp, sword at his hip, sturdy boots and woven leather gauntlets. His medallion was around his neck, and a silver earring glinted from one ear. His hair was long, as she'd always liked it, wild blond curls. The lines of his face had smoothed, and his eyes were bright.
"I do good work," she said, with no little satisfaction, as her eyes roamed his body. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Sweetcheeks! Ya got one day. Make the best of it!"
Iolaus looked down at his body, touched his vest and medallion, checked his gauntlets. He could feel the strength. Gods, he'd all but forgotten what it had felt like. He smiled at her, grateful beyond words, but his eyes were full of all that he felt. He nodded to the Goddess, then turned to Elliara.
She was gazing at him in wonder. Gods, he was beautiful. This was the man he had always been inside, but had lost on the outside as the years had worn his body down. He caught her in a tight hug, and kissed her. "I love you," he said, hoarsely, "You'll never know how much."
"I love you, too, Iolaus," she whispered. "Now, go, light up the world."
He gave her a tight nod, remembering the salutation from those years before, when she'd first let him go. Without guilt. Without rancour. With love.
And then he was gone, out the doors, and down the steps, to leap into the golden chariot, which had appeared from the thin air. He gathered the reins, and snapped them, calling to the magnificent ebony steeds, to give him their hearts...and he'd guide them to glory.
Villagers stopped in awe. The younger ones wondering at who this warrior could be. The older ones remembering the man he had been so long ago, recognizing him, were stunned by the vision before them, as he raced past, bound for the fields below Mycenae.
Bound for the battle of his life.
* * *
The amazing stallions drawing the chariot through the twilight and then the deep of night, never faltered in the rigorous pace he set for them. They had a long way to go, and he had to get there in time to assess the enemy's strengths and possible strategies...and to convince the generals to trust him, trust his experience, skill and instincts. Most would be at least thirty years younger than he was, and, if he knew generals, they would be convinced of their own wisdom. But, Iolaus had fought at Troy, and many battles before and since...and he knew Ares. Knew the God's preferences well enough to know how Ares would have coached his own generals.
He grinned. Ares went for the kill, for the glory, fast and quick. It left him vulnerable to surprise and a focused, strategic thrust.
Satisfied in his own mind that he knew what he would propose as that unexpected thrust, and ever willing to throw the dice, take his chance, do his best and let the Fates decide the outcome, Iolaus gave himself up to the joy of the ride. The wind of their passage tore his curls back from his face, and made his vest flow back under his arms. The horses were incredible, and he'd decided there was no way they could be 'of this world'. They raced as if they had wings, flying through the night, and Iolaus was certain that if their dams were earthly mares, their sire had to be Pegasus.
He laughed with the pleasure and excitement of the moment, never having thought, or even dared dream, of having such a gift. Gods, to feel the blood flow, and the muscles of his arms, legs and back strong and steady, playing with the power of the stallions, revelling in their magnificence, balancing in complete control, as the chariot careened around tight curves. If only he could always be like this!
Gods, how great would that be?
Keeping to the comparative flatland along the Bay of Corinth until he had to turn south, through the mountain pass west and south of Iph's City, he made better time than he'd have believed could be possible. There was nothing 'natural' in this night. Not his youth and strength, not the power of the team in front of him, or even the passing of distance with a magical speed.
His laughter caught a moment in his throat, his eyes glistening in the starlight, as he cast a quick prayer of infinite thanks to the Goddess of Love. 'Dite had been generous to him over his long life, beyond generous. He chuckled as he remembered the romantic escapades of his youth and early years of manhood. But more, she'd helped save his life more than once, and she had allowed him to find Elliara... allowed them to find each other.
And now, this. He was overcome with wonder and gratitude for her boundless blessings. Elliara and Aphrodite, the two women who meant the most to him in his life, the mortal and immortal embodiments of love, had given him this chance, not for pride or glory, but simply for love. He vowed in his heart that he would not fail them, or their belief in him. Whatever it took, he would repay their gift in kind, and find the way to allow the mortals of the Greece of this time to live in the light of love and peace, not the darkness of death and war.
As he pulled on the right rein, guiding his stallions onto the narrow road between the mountains, south to the plains of Mycenae, he finally allowed himself to think of one who might not be pleased with his actions in this next day. Other than Ares, that was. Iolaus knew there was a confrontation coming with Hercules. His friend would be appalled at this last risk he was taking with his life. And, as he sped through the night, along the last miles to the battleground, he was fully expecting to be challenged by the god who was his best friend, the god who had the first and best, most binding, claim on his soul.
He hoped Herc would understand, whether he lived or died this day. Understand that this was simply a continuation of all their partnership had meant. They had stood together, against whatever challenge life, or death, or the Fates had thrown at them. But, whenever one had been unable to act, through absence or injury, through other commitments, they had each carried on, standing for what they both believed in. Drawing the lines in the sand between those at risk, and those who meant harm. This was just one more of those times. If Herc could not act, because he'd given his word and would keep to the bargain that had allowed Iolaus to live until this moment, then Iolaus would take the action for them both.
In his heart, he knew that Hercules would have made the same choice, had he been in Iolaus' place.
This is what they did, who they were. Men who risked their all to assure the lives and security of others. It was who they always had been. And, Iolaus knew, Herc would make his stand again, down all the long, endless years of forever, when he was finally free to do so, when Iolaus was gone. Smiling wistfully, Iolaus wished he could share that forever, but then he shrugged off the melancholy. He'd lived and loved more than most were ever granted in this life, and he could have no regrets.
Well, maybe just one. In the deep corner of his heart, his still wished that Medea could have chosen him for the cursed cloak, rather than his friend.
The chariot was charging around the curve, high above the plains of Mycenae, when the stallions suddenly reared and plunged, digging in their hooves, skidding to a stop before the power of the furious god who stood in their path. Iolaus grappled with them, holding them and the chariot steady as they came to a crashing halt. Having also seen the presence in the road ahead of them, he waited, and, as he waited, he scanned the valley below, taking in the campfires of the two armies of warriors, already assessing the relative strength of his opponents and allies, remembering the lay of the land and considering his options.
Hercules glared at him in silence for a long moment, his hands on his hips, his hair lifted by the light wind which blew down from the mountain. Trembling in his anger, he had to exercise every last bit of control he had to keep from flinging Iolaus from the chariot and dragging him back to the village of Moritika, where Iolaus had lived safely for the past thirty years.
The fact that he could tell Iolaus was not impressed with his rage, was in fact ignoring it, didn't help him to calm down.
Finally, heaving a heavy sigh, he strode past the horses to face his partner. Iolaus swung his glance to Herc's eyes, his own calm and sure, his stance confident and ready. "Thought I might see you," he said pleasantly to the furious god.
Herc nodded, still seething. "You can't do this," Hercules said, his voice definite and cold.
"Yeah," Iolaus countered, "I can. And, I will. Herc, calm down. Short of tying me up, you can't stop me. And, I know you have too much respect for me to do that."
"Don't bet on it, Iolaus. I will not have you risking your life like this," Herc declared.
Iolaus looked up at the stars, reining in his own temper. He didn't want to fight, not now. If all did not go as well as he hoped, he might not see Herc in this life again. Running a hand through his hair, he looked back at the friend who had always defined his life. "Herc," he said quietly but with a calm and definite assurance, "if I don't do this, I will fall on my sword. Your choice."
Hercules eyes widened, and his mouth opened in surprise. "You wouldn't," he whispered.
"Yes, I would," Iolaus replied. "One of us has to stop this, Herc, we both know that. I...I'm what stands between you and what's right. So, either I do this, or I get out of your way."
Hercules looked away, his throat tight. Why did all the choices have to be so hard? He knew Iolaus was serious, and if he stopped him now, he'd lose him for sure. But, how could he let Iolaus go down there and risk everything? When he finally looked back, he saw that Iolaus had again gone back to his examination of the forces below, scanning the terrain, looking for hazards and possible advantages, considering his strategy for the battle ahead.
Hercules rolled his eyes and shook his head. 'Stubborn, and singleminded, as ever,' he thought, "Once you've made up your mind, there's no stopping you.' He ran fingers through his hair, and grudgingly nodded. "Alright. Have it your way."
Iolaus turned his eyes back, and grinned. "I knew I could make you see sense!"
Hercules snorted. "I can't help, you know. I can't intervene to coach on strategy, or to hold back Ares' forces from attacking yours."
Iolaus nodded. "I know. I understand. Herc," he paused, looking down, "whatever happens out there today," he looked back up, his eyes burning into the god's, "I want you to know I'm grateful. I always thought I'd die young, but you gave me the chance for a wonderful life...not the one I'd planned, but wonderful, all the same. I know it hasn't been easy for you to to hold back when you've been needed...I know you've paid the cost."
Hercules cocked his head as he studied his partner, then he gave Iolaus a slow smile. "You talk as if this was it. As if I'm not going to be there, with you."
Iolaus' eyes clouded with confusion. "I don't understand. You just said you can't help."
Herc shook his head as he climbed up into the chariot behind his partner. "I can't interfere in the battle, in the lives of mortals who don't concern me. But, I told you a long time ago, Iolaus, you concern me, and I never gave up my right to watch your back. And, that's exactly what I'm going to do today, watch your back. I can't make choices for you, I can't advise. I can't be visible to other mortals, and I can't open a path for you. But, I won't let you go down there alone."
Iolaus grinned brightly. This made it perfect. Once more, they would stand together against the darkness. And, if he fell, Herc would be there to catch him, to ease him to his final rest.
"Back to back?" he said, with a teasing tone.
"Back to back," Hercules confirmed, his voice deadly serious.
With a light heart, Iolaus slapped the reins, and called to the horses. As they flew down the final slope to the plains below, Herc leaned in, saying quietly in his ear, "But, if you dare get yourself killed today, I'm going to follow you to the Other Side and knock you into the next millenium. Do you understand?"
Iolaus giggled, happily. It was just like old times.
* * *
Iolaus raced his chariot along the outside of the camp, until he'd reached the point to turn in toward the command flags. Pulling up the horses outside the large tent, he could see the light of lanterns glowing through the canvas. He doubted anyone had gotten much sleep that night.
He brushed by Hercules, who he knew full well was invisible to everyone but him, to jump out of the chariot and stride to the tent, pushing back its flap. When he entered, he found a group of five men clustered around a table, on which lay a map of the Mycenean plains.
One looked up with a scowl. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm Iolaus, of Thebes," he replied, moving with an easy confidence to the table.
"You have no place here," another growled. "Get out."
Iolaus shook his head as he looked down at the map, noting the maneuvers they'd plotted upon it. Traditional deployments. Predictable. Like lambs to the slaughter. "You've got lousy security," he said, looking up at them with steel in his eyes. "I just rode past your camp, and walked in here, without a single challenge. If that was an example of your preparation and discipline, you're dead."
The others stood to their full height, glaring down at him, trying to intimidate with their power and position.
But, he took no notice. Pointing down at the map, he showed them the flaws in their plan, and explained how Ares' forces would take advantage of them. "Ares's forces outnumber yours almost two to one. If you go against them with the traditional long front, they will dessimate you. But, because that is what they will expect, they also will be spread along a line across the valley, thinning their numbers in any one place. You can't beat them with courage and the willingness to sacrifice all of your lives. But, if you cut off the head, the snake always dies."
Three regarded him with offended anger, one with disdain, but the last, older than the others, watched him with a speculative gaze.
"Who are you to march in here and tell us our business?" one growled, preparing to call a guard to have him dragged out.
But, the quiet one raised a hand for attention. "He's Iolaus, of Thebes," he said soberly, then smiled, "partner to Hercules. The greatest mortal warrior Greece has ever known."
Iolaus looked over at him, and grinned, holding out his arm. The other man grasped it, "I'm Therion," he said. "And I remember when the two of you came to my village when I was a boy, and you saved us from a warlord and his bloodthirsty mercenaries. I also remember the stories. All of them. I don't know how it's possible that you are here now, but, I know it is you, and I thank the Gods for sending you. So," he continued, letting his arm fall to the side, and turning to the map, "Iolaus, of Thebes, tell us what you think we should do."
His finger illustrating his points, Iolaus obliged. Moving the pieces designating their forces, he showed them the way they could win a victory that day. "As each side lines up for battle, we'll be able to spot where their commanders are deployed. Cranicus is the key, and then his two lieutenants, Maltos and Jerash. We'll take Cranicus first. Here's how."
He quickly outlined how their forces would break from the traditional line, to form a flying wedge directed at the part of the line shielding Cranicus, the enemy's general. The foot soldiers would burst through the line, then split, pushing the enemy back to either side, looping to enclose them from front and back, each side targetting one of the lesser leaders. Meanwhile, the charioteers would race through the gap they had created and overwhelm Cranicus, taking him out quickly.
It was a bold strategy, and would not be expected. Too fast, too untraditional for the enemy to regroup for adequate defence, let alone attack. "Without their leaders," he concluded, "they will be in disarray. I'd be willing to bet most will panic and run."
"Who will lead the charioteers?" one asked.
"I will," asserted Iolaus. He waited while they considered his plan. One after another, they nodded, and he let out a silent breath of relief. This had been his first battle of the day. And he had won.
Therion went to the flap of the tent and hailed a passing sentry. "You. Bring the captains of the cohorts. NOW!" The sentry scuttled off to do his duty, and while they waited, the men polished the plan.
In less than ten minutes, twenty captains had crowded into the tent, surprised by the call as they had received their orders the night before.
Theron introduced Iolaus and explained there was a new plan. Ceding the floor to Iolaus, the warrior outlined the strategy, then coached each in the roles they would play in leading their men that day. When he finished, he looked at them all for a silent moment. "Remember, all of you, we are NOT fighting for glory or conquest. We are fighting for our wives and sweethearts, our sons and daughters, our parents, our neighbours. We are fighting for Greece. Our lives stand between security and death, peace and chaos. We are making a stand today for all that we love. We are dedicating our lives to this victory, and we dare not fail."
They listened in silence, caught by the passion in his voice, the fire in his eyes, as he called them to stand for more than themselves, to live or die for more than a day's victory, to stand with him against the forces of darkness. He called them to greatness.
And, then, he grinned, "We're gonna kick their sorry asses, and send them running for the hills!"
They laughed then, spirits high, confident that they would, indeed be victorious this day, despite the heavy odds against them. "Go on, then," Iolaus encouraged, slapping those nearest him on shoulders and backs, "go tell your men why they fight today, and why they will win. Show them the way to victory!"
* * *
Campfires were kicked out as the dawn's gray light stole across the sky, driving the shadows from the plains. The armies lined up across the valley, men checking their weapons, some feeling a mad exhilaration, more feeling fear, as they stared across at the men who would try to kill them that day. Iolaus' side searched the command flags of the enemy, locating Cranicus' position, identifying the target of the wedge they would form when the battle was joined.
Sunlight glinted on armour, sending blinding flashes back into the air. Bright coloured flags streamed in the wind.
There was a collective hush. The silence before the storm.
A ram's horn sounded across the valley. It was the signal. It had begun.
Men screamed as they charged toward one another, but the enemy line faltered, to find their targets running in another direction. For a moment, Ares' warriors yelled in derision, shouting their victory in the face of such cowardice. Their illusion cost them precious minutes, as Iolaus' forces formed their flying wedge, forcing itself inexorably through the thin enemy line.
As the light grew across the sky, dust rose as thousands of feet pounded the earth. Men raged and screamed in determination, grappling with their foes, swords clagging, spears thrusting, arrows swarming like deadly bees, carrying the sting of death. Blood dampened the ground in the centre of melee, turning dust to mud, as the enemy fell before the terrible determination and strength of League of City States.
In less than an hour, the centre of the enemy line had collapsed, and the League's wedge split, driving a gap between the enemy lines, widening it, encircling their foes, intent upon bringing down their respective targeted enemy leaders.
The charioteers had feigned attack on the traditional line, holding them in place, to keep them from regrouping to take the wedge before it had penetrated the centre. Now, seeing the wedge open the way, Iolaus swung his chariot about, racing along the line, gathering the others behind him, and they flew down the gap, erupting into the heart of the enemy's position.
Cranicus had seen what had happened, and knew he had been made the target of the League's wrath. He'd gathered as many defenders around him as he could, and he'd stood high in his chariot, trying to identify the leader of the League's forces, the man who would be coming for him. So that he could be ready to meet that warrior with death.
He cursed at the chaos around him, and his inability to quickly marshall his forces to meet the new, and completely unexpected strategy. But, once a battle was joined, it cost precious minutes to send new orders, to have them understood and implemented. Worse, he'd split his own force. In his arrogance, he'd believed the more than two to one odds would hold the League back, until the quarter of his force he'd split away had marched around the hills to the side, coming upon the League from behind. There was no way to reach those mercenaries...and by the time they arrived, it could well be too late to save this assault upon the League of City States.
His eyes were caught by the blond haired fury in the golden chariot, and saw him take the lead down through the centre of the opened wedge. He marshalled his defenders in front of him and to the sides. He'd not make it easy for them to reach him. They formed a wall of horseflesh and strong warriors, intent upon the destruction of the defenders of Greece. Screaming his own challenge, he whipped his horses to a frenzy, and lashed them toward his nemesis. Like jousters in a faraway land in centuries to come, the warriors bore down upon one another, horses charging like demons. Reins in one hand, swords in the other, the lines of charioteers came together and clashed, slashing out with deadly intent.
Secure in the knowledge that his back was well guarded, Iolaus kept his attention to the front, noting the warriors between him and his goal. He'd thought he'd be the first warrior in his line of charioteers to engage the battle, but he was wrong. He'd not recognized the two black warriors who raced before him, drawing him on. As they reached the enemy's position, they did not hesitate but charged on, rearing and slashing with their hooves, biting, and tearing into the flesh of the enemy's horses, cutting them down, causing chariots to over balance and roll.
His eyes alight with the fire of battle, yelling encouragement to his stallions, and imprecations at the enemy, he cut and slashed with his blade, blocking lances that thrust at him, knocking aside enemy swords, ducking arrows which rained down upon them, drawing blood, hacking and cutting his way toward his goal.
Horses collided and screamed in fury and fear. Men stood streaming with sweat and blood, hair and skin matted with the dust raised by the battle. Eyes burned bright, and lips drew back in grins of rage or howls of terror.
Unaware of the action behind him, as the enemy's ranks had closed to try to cut him off, and separate his forces, one from another, he didn't know of the knife speeding toward his back, to be caught in the air and dropped. Or the spear that surged up from the side and below to impale him, only to be splintered like kindling. He didn't know of the men who had intended to jump him from behind, caught in midleap and hurled to the ground, as if they had hit an invisible wall.
He didn't need to know.
His partner was watching his back.
It took another hour of bloody battle, but finally a space was cleared between Iolaus and Cranicus. Their teams plunged at one another, rearing and shrieking in rage, lashing out with sharp hooves, twisting and lunging until both chariots were unbalanced, throwing their riders to the ground.
Iolaus rolled, coming up with his sword in his hand, to meet the downward slash of Cranicus' sword, blocking it and shoving it to the side, Cranicus shifted and slashed again, and the two men fenced with murderous intent. Cranicus' personal guard charged from the side, only to meet an invisible wall of stone, which sent him crashing to the earth.
Iolaus ducked a slash aimed at his head, pivoted and brought his own blade back hard, cutting through Cranicus' boiled leather and bronze armour, to slash the man deeply in the side. Enraged, the man bore down upon Iolaus. Taller, with a longer reach, he cut and parried, slashed and stabbed, but he couldn't get past his opponent's sword, could not connect, and he became increasingly infuriated.
He was heavily armoured, a man exceeding six feet, stronger than the devil who danced before him laughing, garbed only in a cloth vest and leather pants. It was unthinkable that he would not triumph over this runt.
But, he like so many others before him, in decades long past, had underestimated the opposition. Iolaus had no difficulty fending off the attack, but was himself frustrated at not being able to get close enough for a decisive stroke. He could see the other man's anger build, and knew it was his advantage. Dropping back a half step, he let Cranicus believe he was finally being overpowered. When Cranicus lunged for the kill, Iolaus swiveled to the side, dropped and rolled, knocking Cranicus from his feet. Iolaus spun up in a pivot, bringing his sword down, slashing the jugular in the other man's neck.
Blood spurted, and Cranicus cursed the gods for their perfidy. Ares had promised him victory.
But, all he'd won was death.
Iolaus did not pause to savour his personal victory. Turning, he leapt onto his chariot, which had been set back on its wheels by an invisible hand, and turned his team of stallions to join the next battle. And then the next. Until the two subordinate leaders of Ares' forces had been killed.
But the war had not yet been won.
The battle raged for another two hours, before the attacking forces floundered for lack of leadership. They had no strategy, no plan for recovery in the face of implacable opposition. In their confusion, they'd been killed by the score, and then by the hundred...and then by the thousand. Wounded men cried out for mercy, confusion reined as the men in Ares' forces milled about, not knowing which direction they should move next. Finally, it was too much, as slowly at first, and then like a flood, they cut and ran from the field of battle.
It took another hour to defeat those who had chosen to stay their ground and fight to the end.
The reserve force, having finally come around the mountain, with the intent of sealing their victory, stood appalled at the sight before them. Ares' forces had either run or were dead or dying. It was over before they had even arrived. As the League's forces regrouped to face them, the enemy troops looked for direction from their command flags, but they were gone, trampled in the dust. Their leaders, deciding that life was the best option they could choose that day, called a hasty retreat, and the mercenaries scattered into the hills.
It was done.
Before the sun had reached its zenith, the battle was won.
Cheers broke out among the League's forces, cries of victory a tumultuous wave of sound rolling over the valley.
Iolaus circled the field once more, saluting those who had stood with him, who had followed his lead, then turned his team to the northern hills, disappearing from sight.
It had taken one day.
And, in that day, they began to believe he was a god.
How else could he have arrived to give them their strategy of victory? How else could he have been a man appearing younger today than when, already approaching middleage, it had been rumoured he'd died a generation before, disappearing with Hercules, abruptly absent from the lives of the people? How else had there been an invisible shield at his back, and a team of demon stallions to fight before him?
How else had they won against impossible odds? Prevailed against the mighty forces of the God of War?
The Cult of Iolaus, The Warrior God, was born that day, and it would never, completely, fade away.
* * *
Herc stood with his hand on Iolaus' shoulder, behind him in the chariot, as Iolaus guided the horses up through the mountain pass. "You did good back there, Iolaus," Hercules said.
"Thanks...and thanks for the help. It meant a lot not having to worry about what trouble was coming from behind," Iolaus responded grinning, still pumped by the battle, and the victory. "We did it, Herc! We stopped the war!"
Hercules smiled fondly, "Not 'we', Iolaus, 'you'."
Iolaus shook his mane of curls, "Nah, I'd have been cut down before I got to Cranicus, if I'd've been on my own, and I know it, Herc. And, don't you love these horses! What spirit!"
Hercules laughed. Iolaus had always loved horses, and driving a chariot had been one of his favourite pursuits when they'd been younger. Speaking of younger, "So, how does it feel, being thirty or more years younger than you were yesterday?"
"Ah, Herc, I gotta say, it's great. I took it all for granted, you know...the stamina and energy, the strength and speed, having my body respond the way I want it to, without any creaks or aches. I don't know why we can't just stay like this, not have to grow old. It's not that I mind, exactly. I mean, it's life. If you don't die, you get old, and then you die. It's just that...I've never felt old inside. Somedays, it feels like I'm locked up in some stranger's body, and I can't get out."
He paused for a moment, turning the horses onto the western road along the Bay. "Not that I want to complain, I don't. I have a great life. Gods, who'd have imagined I'd have all those kids, and the grandkids just keep coming...and they're really cute. And, Elliara...well, she's as beautiful as she ever was, if not more."
Hercules had listened, looking down on his friend of a lifetime, a wistful look on his face that Iolaus couldn't see. He'd sorely missed their lives together over the past thirty years, but looking up along the road ahead of him, he knew it was likely that Iolaus would live a great deal longer still. He was strong and healthy, in good shape, for all he complained of growing old. He gently squeezed his friend's shoulder. Young, old, it didn't matter, so long as he had Iolaus in his life.
There was no need for the haste of the night before, so Iolaus had been driving the horses at a much more leisurely pace, enjoying the peace of the countryside, the bright fall sun. Enjoying to the full the experience of being the man he had been. But, as they pushed further westward, he could see the sun dropping as the afternoon progressed, and knew his 'one day' would soon be at its end. He looked out at the world, marvelling at how much clearer it seemed, how the colours were so sharp, the light on the bay so brilliant. His clarity of vision had faded so slowly, he hadn't even realized that he now only saw a dim approximation of the reality around him each day. He sighed. There were satisfactions in growing old, like seeing his family prosper...but, he still didn't like the experience of it much.
They were still some hours from Moritika when the sun slowly slipped down beyond the horizon. He felt it immediately, the chill, and the horses pulled loose, his grip no longer sure on the reins. His hands were knarled, his arms thin. He didn't need to see or feel more to know his day of youth had passed.
"Herc," he called back over his shoulder, "I think you'd better take the reins." He could no longer control the extraordinary strength and spirit of his team.
Hercules reached around him, one hand taking the reins, while he steadied his friend, allowing him to move past and behind him, as he moved forward to drive the team. He'd gotten a quick glimpse of the look in his partner's eyes, a mixture of remembered triumph and resigned acceptance. He shifted to the side of the box, so that he could draw Iolaus back beside him, one arm looped over his shoulder. "It'll be alright, Iolaus...and it was one, incredibly, glorious day," he said quietly.
Iolaus nodded, his eyes straining to see through the darkening twilight, a smile on his lips. "It sure was, Herc. It sure was!"
