Kirra's Journey

Episode 3 – Outsider Looking In

Chapter 10

When he turned to face the inevitable, Hercules knew to expect the unexpected, but this wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he thought of Nikolos and himself settling scores. A fistfight, a battle of wills maybe, or strategy, but this…? Pitting him against a monolithic metal monster powered by the persistence of Perdix was the farthest thing from his mind!

It towered above him, Perdix's face but a dot within its metal cage. The sight of it had surprised him at first, caught him off guard and given Perdix a chance to swing one meaty metal arm in his direction, knocking him back by several feet. But one good smack (and one headlong rush into the metal monster's midsection, which was likely to leave him with a heck of a headache) brought Hercules back to his senses. The monster was not a monster at all! It was nothing but a gigantic, creaking, metal suit. Without the man, it posed no threat. If he couldn't beat the monster, he had to beat the man within the suit. The question was how to get to him.

When Benjamin told Kirra he had an idea, she hadn't thought he would shed himself of his armor and don her cloak over his linen underclothes. Worse yet, he wanted her to slip into his armor. A lot easier said than done, considering she was a head shorter than he was and she was wearing a dress. She had complied, though over strenuously whispered objections.

Benjamin knew he wouldn't make it out of the castle with her in tow. How would he explain it to his superiors? They already questioned his loyalty. Perhaps, by not showing his face, he could tip the scales in their favor. Imperative, however, was not to allow Kirra to be seen either. His fellow soldiers might blind their eyes to a lot that went on in Chalcis, but they weren't stupid. Kirra had a face that one couldn't confuse with masculinity. She was all female; her dark blue eyes, her full lips and those curls. One wouldn't mistake her for a man if they tried. He could only allow her to be seen from a distance, and even then only for a few seconds. Benjamin had a plan, and a route, that would get them near the guards, but past them quickly enough to be remembered as nothing but a funny side note—the short guard leading the tall prisoner to his fate.

Kirra lightly bound his wrists with a scrap of linen from the closet, and once they were sure the coast was clear, they left its confines behind and made their way (without the haste they wished to make) out of the palace. The trick was to get past the guard station without drawing attention. For that to work, one other part of his plan had to go off without a hitch. The problem was, it was dangerous, and there was a chance it wouldn't work.

He and Kirra stood at the edge of the guard building, their backs to the wall while Benjamin peered around the corner ever so briefly. Yep, there he was—Brutaeus, the biggest and meanest of all the soldiers under Nikolos's command. Benjamin had seen him take a sword to one of his fellow soldiers once just for beating him in a game of Petteia. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Kirra had been uneasy about it the moment he informed her of it, but there was no other way. If they were going to get out and help her friend, they would have to get through Brutaeus.

Benjamin brought a finger to his lips. "Get rid of the armor … quietly … and be ready to go."

She nodded.

"Do you have it?" he asked.

She nodded again and handed him a pouch, loosely cinched but gathered in her fist at the neck. Within it, something huge wriggled and squirmed. Benjamin breathed deeply and took the pouch from Kirra. It was their only way out of this mess. Brutaeus—a man fearless in battle, with an unquenchable thirst for the blood of his enemies—had an unholy fear of rodents, be they big or small. But, as Benjamin well knew, the bigger the better, and the monster within this pouch was bigger than his foot.

"Be careful," Kirra whispered.

To Benjamin, her face looked as fragile as a porcelain doll's behind the oversized helmet. He gave her one last confident smile, a confidence he didn't readily feel, and went around the wall. Ahead was Brutaeus and the one gate which would bring them to freedom. A partial freedom, anyway.

Benjamin had one other advantage—Brutaeus was a daydreamer. Not too many people knew this. They took his vacant stare as a threat or a dare, when in reality he was reliving his last battle or contemplating how he would win in his next game of Petteia. Benjamin knew because a daydreamer could always spot another daydreamer. Many were the days, stuck at his guard post, where he found himself daydreaming about a face he hadn't seen in many years, daydreaming of the day he saw her again and how all his childhood dreams would become a reality. How surprised he'd been to finally see her, after all these years, standing just a dirt road's length away from him. He'd been so shocked his knees nearly gave way beneath him. But she never noticed him, not like his commanding officer did. He'd gotten the business end of a spear poked into his leathered midsection for his indiscretion while she walked away down to the end of the road, never having recognized him at all.

Now that he had Kirra back, he wasn't going to let her go again. He would do what he must to keep her out of the king's clutches, even if that meant shoving the rat down the front of Brutaeus's pants.

But, he needn't go so far. Brutaeus was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the soft crush of grass beneath Benjamin's feet. So busy was he thinking, he knew nothing until he heard his name.

"Brutaeus."

When he turned, Benjamin gave the loosely cinched pouch a toss. It and the monstrous rat were airborne, following a trail in the air that seemed almost predestined. Rat feet, soft and pink with sharp talons, landed squarely on Brutaeus's face. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened in a silent scream, but Benjamin didn't give him a chance to voice it. As the rat, terrified as Brutaeus, leapt into the air and scrambled into the underbrush, Benjamin grabbed the frightened soldier's spear from his hand and used the blunt end to whack the side of his head. He was out and hitting the ground with a thud before he had a chance to scream.

Benjamin released his held breath. "Thank the gods," he said.

"Don't thank them," came a voice from behind. He turned to see Kirra behind him, armor absconded somewhere out of sight and her curls in beautiful disarray. She took his hand. "We make our own luck. Come on! Let's go!"

It was Benjamin's plan to sneak them out of the palace. Kirra could rightly give him that, and it had been a good plan. However, if Nikolos were planning a demonstration of Daedalus's inventions, they would need something more than a plan. They would need action if they were going to help Hercules.

They stopped long enough to snatch clothing for Benjamin off laundry lines. He wound up in an oversized robe which he cinched with the left over linen they had used as wrist binds, but he kept her cloak in place to hide his face from other soldiers. They might easily spot him out of uniform.

Kirra led him through back alleyways and past the sight of armored men he'd worked with for years, men he had never truly liked. He had a feeling he knew where she was going, but he had to ask when she stopped to see if the next alley in the bend was clear.

"What are you up to, Kirra? I thought we were going to help your friend."

"We are," she said. "But if Nikolos is doing what I think he is, we're going to need more than strong words to dissuade him."

"But where are we going?"

"Back to Daedalus's lab."

Kirra began to move, but Benjamin pulled her back. "Are you crazy? My commanding officer is there."

"Unless I'm mistaken, you no longer have a commanding officer."

Benjamin sighed.

Kirra took his hand and squeezed. "You're breaking free, Benny. Like I did. Like I should have done years ago."

He squeezed back. "Tell me what happened."

"I will," she said, averting her eyes. "But first you have to tell me why you left me behind in Endor … though not now. We have to go."

"All right," he said, and looked around the bend. "But I lead. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm not a child anymore."

Benjamin looked her up and down. "I can see that. Doesn't mean I'll stop protecting you. Let's go."

Hand in hand, they raced to the rear of Daedalus's lab and as Kirra expected, the shop was still empty. Perhaps Daedalus and his assistants had completed their work for the day, or perhaps they were busy in the town square waiting for Nikolos and his grand demonstration. Whatever the reason, they had free clearance to ransack the lab for whatever they might need.

Benjamin went through the window first, then assisted Kirra up and over the windowsill, his hands warming at her hips. "Tell me again what we're doing here?" he asked once he had set her firmly on the ground, telling himself to keep his mind on their mission.

Kirra looked at him as if his brains had fallen out of his head. "We're looking for anything that will help us to fight fire with fire."

"And that would be?"

"Do you know nothing of what goes on in here?"

"No, I'm just told to guard the lab. I don't ask questions. Asking questions in Chalcis leads to trouble." He'd seen it too many times to doubt it.

"Fine. Then gather what I ask you to gather … and don't ask questions."

Benjamin couldn't help but grin. "You know, Kirra, you might be braver than you used to be, but you're still the bossy little girl I used to know."

Kirra turned to him with a smile of affection that weakened his knees, but he did as ordered. They had a job to do. Weak knees could get him into as much trouble as questions.

The next ten minutes went by both at a snail's pace and like lightening. Kirra had never experienced anything like it before. There was something exhilarating in the danger of it. At any second, they could either be caught by guards and arrested, or blown to bits. She still wasn't sure which one was the easier way out.

How they weren't caught in those few minutes as they raced hand in hand through the alleyways of Chalcis holding what amounted to handmade bombs, smoking and sparking, had to have been a miracle. Kirra had never felt freer in her entire life. It brought back the few good memories of life in Endor, running through the woods with Benny. Whether chased away by the baker for snatching sweets or pursued by her stepfather, she had always found something heady in the feeling of running from danger. It pumped through her system like pure energy.

Now, they were running headlong into danger, but the feeling was no less narcotic. It wasn't just the running. Like the old days, she held Benny's hand in hers as they ran. The excitement burst from Kirra in laughter. He looked at her as if she were crazy at first, until he understood, until he remembered their days together. Then, he laughed with her.

Together, they went back in time while they ran into the future.

Katrina came to Chalcis with the idea of writing a great story, a story that would be read by millions and be told generation after generation. It would stand as a testament to her skills as a scribe and add another feather to Hercules's cap. Her idea, good and simple though it was, stood in stark contrast to what was happening below.

She'd been surprised, when Benjamin brought her to the king, not to have the guillotine waiting for her. In fact, Nikolos had been eager to meet her. "It's been years since we've had a scribe in our village," he had said, his ugly mug a hard one to keep eye contact with. When Nikolos told her she was about to witness an event that would live for a hundred centuries, she had hoped for a demonstration of one of Daedalus's inventions, a demonstration that would seal the inventor's infamy as the creator of weapons of destruction. This was not what she had imagined.

Standing upon a parapet with Nikolos himself, Katrina had what he called "the perfect view." The perfect view to what? had been her question, and he answered it before long. They weren't here in the center of the town market for a mere demonstration. They were here to watch Hercules be crushed to death. This was an execution for all citizens of Chalcis to witness.

At her side the King, clapping and cheering on his metal monster as it tossed the son of Zeus about like a child's toy, nudged her with his elbow. "Shouldn't you be taking notes?"

Katrina didn't know whether he was serious or just insidiously clever. "Stop this, please!"

Could it be her former thought was the closest one to the truth? He thought her the scribe to document his rise to power, a power he hoped to gain through the spilling of Olympic blood. If that's what he thought, he was as wrong as he was perplexed at her plea.

"Why?" he asked, sealing Katrina's belief that he was as insane as his soldiers were dullards. He seemed honestly curious at her concern for Hercules. "With Daedalus's Megalith, I'll get back everything Hercules forced me to give up all those years ago. I'll be unstoppable! And you can quote me on that."

I'll quote your scream when Hercules rips your neck from your shoulders, she thought, and then winced when the Megalith's metal arm swatted Hercules through the air and through a fruit vendor's awning. Katrina couldn't watch. She was no hero. She had no special powers to fight off a machine even a half-god like Hercules couldn't best.

Seconds later, the metal beast landed a heavy arm into his back. Katrina watched Hercules land face first into dirt. Begging was all she had. "Please, call him off! He's killing Hercules!"

"I thought you're job was to report to the world what happens here?"

A jeering smile warped the already warped face of Nikolos. No begging in the world would make this man change his mind. He was insane and insidiously clever!

Katrina lost the mild, but professional demeanor she reserved for asking probing questions which might secure her a place in the annals of scribe history. Hercules was being murdered before her eyes and this creep thought it was funny. A pure, white rage she could no longer control boiled within. In it, she saw Kirra standing over the body of her friend and weeping. It was one ugly image too many.

Grabbing the King's leathered tunic, she yanked him inches from her face and practically growled. "What part of 'he's killing Hercules' hasn't gotten through your thick, scarred head?"

The King, taken aback by the scribe's reaction, never noticed two figures weaving through the crowd below. They were on an intercept path with the Megalith who was once again on a collision course with Hercules. So far, it seemed to be winning.

A laughing Perdix would have agreed with this assessment. With each rumbling footstep, he drew closer and closer to having Hercules within his grasp. The plan was to beat him, swinging the metal arm as one might swing an axe, until he had weakened the half-god, and then he would crush him underfoot. With Hercules down on the ground, the end had come sooner than he thought. Perdix thundered forward.

From the sidelines with the rest of the villagers, a frightened Falafel was torn between watching the two lunatics race toward the impossible metal monster or watching his friend become a piece of flatbread. He had to laugh despite his fear. The lunatics each held aloft something that smoked and sparked. Whoever they were, they were crazier than a sack of hazelnuts, but he knew what they were doing—causing a distraction and giving Hercules a chance at escape. Only Hercules's thoughts were not on escape. From Falafel's vantage point, Hercules was eyeing the kettle of boiled sea serpent he'd prepared that morning.

If those two lunatics were capable of heroics, then Falafel guessed he was too. Fear gone, he broke from the crowd and made for the kettle as an explosion tore through the marketplace.

It happened within a matter of seconds. One second, Katrina had a hold of the king's collar as if she were the brute and he the wimp of a scribe, and in the next, a loud boom had drawn the attention of not only she and Nikolos, but the attention of the guards and soldiers near them. Smoke and sparks were lighting up the marketplace. The Megalith was floundering backward, each heavy footstep shaking the ground. Screams and shouts could be heard in the midst of the explosion, but in its aftermath, there was utter silence.

One voice broke it. "Hercules!"

Katrina felt sure Hercules had blown into little bits and pieces. Even Nikolos had a triumphant smile on his face. As the smoke cleared and the Megalith regained its footing solid on the ground, two figures appeared—Hercules and a bearded man carrying a kettle. Nikolos's smile faltered and Katrina made good her getaway past guards and soldiers who seemed to have forgotten she was there. A stone staircase led away from the insanity of Nikolos. Katrina took them two at a time. She didn't care if she happened to trip on the hem of her skirt. What would it matter if she fell and broke her neck? No story, great or otherwise, was worth this!

She made it down in time, hiding behind a stone pillar, to see Hercules toss the contents of the kettle at the metal man's face. Whatever was inside of it either didn't taste good, or it was boiling hot, because the man inside screamed in agony. The last time she had ever heard such a scream, she had been a little girl walking into town with her mother. The butcher in the shop along the way had accidentally brought his cleaver down upon his own fingers. There had been blood everywhere. He survived, but Katrina remembered the man ran the butchery the rest of his life minus four of the fingers on his left hand. She wasn't sure if The Fates would be so kind to the man inside the metal monster. Down it went with a crash, and above on the parapet Nikolos's smile had fallen with about the same effect.

Hercules was standing on two feet and walking without encumbrance. He looked exhausted, but not beaten. The wear and tear he sustained in his fight with the metal monster amounted to a cut over one eye, which dripped blood down the side of his face, and a gash to his bicep. He stood over the Megalith, but his eyes were on the king above him.

"What's the matter, Nikolos? Things didn't work out like you hoped?"

The king's frown turned to fury. "I'm not finished with you yet, Hercules. I swear, I will have my revenge!"

Yeah, where have I heard that before? Hercules thought. He didn't waste his time trying to understand why evil men thought they were above the law of human kindness or why they sought revenge on those who tried to end their reign of terror. He gave Nikolos one of his best you-don't-scare-me glares and turned back to the problem at hand—the contraption which held an injured Perdix in its prison. Injured or not, Hercules wouldn't leave Daedalus's invention in working order.

Since the market was already a mess, he used what was left of his strength to pull from the ground a stone supporting strut from a shop that made its home directly underneath the parapet. It shifted beneath Nikolos's feet, but the parapet remained intact. The Megalith, however, would not fair as well once he was done with it.

Hercules lumbered the column over to it and its operator. "Perdix, you've got about two seconds to get out of there or you can become a permanent part of that thing."

Nikolos's second in command may have been injured, but not so badly he couldn't find his way out of the Megalith in two seconds flat. Katrina had never seen anyone move so fast, but if the truth were told, she would rather have seen the column smash down on the Megalith with him in it. Unfortunately, the wielder of the stone weapon was Hercules, a man who didn't believe in killing unless he absolutely had to. This was likely to be one of those times. She shrugged as the column came down and flatted the Megalith into a Minimush. Maybe even creeps like him deserve a second chance.

Not Nikolos, though. She heard of what happened at the Battle of Plataea, and the innocent lives lost in Danalos. He deserved whatever ill will he wished upon others, and he was wishing plenty on Hercules right about now. She watched him march out of the spotlight past his soldiers, shoving them aside and yelling, "Out of my way!"

The danger was over. Katrina was now free to go to the most famous man in all of Greece with quill and parchment in hand. What a story this would make!

"That was great, Hercules!" She looked down at the gash on his bicep. "Oh, your arm. Are you okay?"

Hercules turned to see an unfamiliar face. "Who are you?"

She gave him a cautious smile. "Katrina … of Katea. I'm sure you've probably heard of me by now."

Hercules didn't stick out his hand or offer any hellos. "Where's Kirra?"

"At the moment? Honestly, I don't know." She pointed over his shoulder. "But if we don't get out of here now, you might not find out."

Behind them, Nikolos's guards were descending the parapet. As worried as he was for Kirra's safety, and as concerned as he was that the scribe had something to do with it, Hercules didn't have the time for scrutiny. He took the arm of the woman who called herself Katrina of Katea and blended with the crowd of people who had begun to crowd around Daedalus's invention.

Out of the crowd, Falafel appeared, relieved to see his friend in one piece. "Hercules," he said in that familiar accent. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said and grabbed the man's grease-stained lapel. "Falafel, you're coming with me."

The cook's relieved smile changed into a frown. "I am?"

"Unless you want to stay and be fodder for the king's soldiers…"

"I think I'm coming with you."

"That's what I thought."

Katrina asked Hercules at a jog. "Where are you taking us?"

"At the moment?" he said in parody of her. "Honestly, I don't know."

Behind them, Hercules spotted the guards milling through the crowd looking for him. No point in giving them a chance to find him or anyone else. He sped up their escape until the marketplace and the city center was far behind them.

In Chapter 11, as the king's soldiers chase our team into the forests of Chalcis, Kirra finds herself at the center of a tug-of-war.

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