Hercules 1/2
"GENMA SAOTOME'S TIME AND SPACE MISADVENTURES!"
by Jim Robert Bader
(Inspired by the works of Rumiko Takahashi & Others,
with special recognition for those great playwrights,
Sophocles and Euripides, though neither one here truly rated a Homer.)
Chapter Ten.
Herakles Fuerens!
Isle of Salamis-1254 BC
It was a time of great troubles known to later times as the "Heroic" or "Homeric" age, (also defined as the "Silver Age" by those who collected back issues) due to the sometime need of ordinary people to find representation in the great Heroes who strode the land like literary titans. The Poet-Historian later known to the ages as "Homer"-like many others of his profession-would tend to "clean things up a bit" and give polish to the adventures of these stirring tales of might and valor whose primary protagonists were the "men of might" who did the deeds that common men were unable (or unwilling) to handle, struggling against fantastic odds in order to gain the immortality of having their names be recalled in legend.
However, what the Poets and Playwrights of later times neglected to mention was that Professional Heroes-lacking patronage and a good Trade Name Sponsor-
could not exactly make a decent living by just plain being heroic. It is notoriously hard to feed a crew of hungry hangers-on and traveling companions on just your name alone...sometimes you had to bring home the bacon the old fashioned way, often literally, by foraging off the land and "inducing" the local citizenry to "voluntarily" contribute their goods to the "worthy cause" of the advancement of the heroes livelihood, which also kept his crew and followers happy, under the promise that they would one day "pay it back" with interest. After all, they were Heroes, and heroing was hard work enough work if one way to defend the local populace from the rampages of great plagues and the occasional monster. (In another time this would be referred to as "protection money").
Of course there was an "or else" clause to this implicit verbal contract...the Hero would look out for the best interests of the people who paid for his services, but the people who did not pay...well...then they needed to hire someone to protect them from the wrath of the "Heroes!"
And in these times of low taxation and no representation, standing armies could not be relied upon to put a curb to these sorts of antics, so whenever ordinary people sighted the white sail that bore some particular heroic banner their natural response was to scream, "HERE COME THE HEROES, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"
One particularly vigorous "Hero" just making a name for himself was a fellow named Jason, a former native of Iolcos who had turned a naval career into a rather lucrative profession. Although he would have spurned the title of "Pirate," he considered himself an up-and-coming entrepreneur whose independent Import/Export/No-Tariff/Free Trade association had been doing a rather nice turn ever since he had been "forcibly relocated" from his former career as a Prince of his native city. The one who had deposed and exiled him-his cousin, Pelias-had the favor of Poseidon himself, so Jason felt no particularly strong kinship ties even to his own nation of origin. He was pretty much of a free spirit at heart, the designated captain of his own Phoenician galley and serviced by a loyal crew of motley types who might look downright at home in a Grateful Dead concert.
Presently Jason was conducting a "foraging" expedition on land (some might call it a Raid, but again that made it seem too much like piracy for Jason's liking) supervising his men as they restocked the ship's depleted stores of food, mead, trading commodities and women. They needed to take in enough heavy jugs of olive oil and wine to provision his crew for an expedition for a little cruise down the coastline of Lacunae (to say nothing of serving as extra ballast to keep the mast upright), and the boys needed a little "feminine attention" to keep them happy along the way (to say nothing of having someone around who could darn their kits whenever their loincloths became a bit frayed around the edges), so inducing the company of some of the local ladies was just one more necessity that came with the job of being a good captain (to say nothing of preventing a mutiny sometimes later). The local village girls pretty much knew the score anyway...Heroes had been raiding along the coastline since time itself began, and Fishing villages didn't offer many other types of "career opportunities" for a village girl anyway. And, of course, being the good gentleman that he was, Jason could always sell the girls at a friendly port when the crew inevitably became tired of their constant nagging (a true Prince would never sink so low as to feed them to the fishes).
Being a practical man of steady means, Jason did not practice favoritism with his crew and had even gained a reputation for fairness in how he divided up the booty, just as he could be equally fair in meting out punishment to troublemakers and transgressors. His was a small outfit, but he had larger dreams of future expansion, especially if he earned enough goods to one day recruit an army that he could lead back to Iolcos to "pay his respects to his cousin." As such he was more of an administrator than a "hands-on" kind of Pirate, but he could weigh in when it suited him, such as when he met the lovely young thing presently walking up to greet him while paying no head to all the screaming, shouting, grunting and general carrying on that was currently causing such a commotion throughout the little seaport village.
Jason took a moment to study this lovely woman with the smoldering violet eyes, raven dark hair done up in a ponytail with alabaster skin shining through the nearly gauze-like material that served more to display than conceal her generous assets. He had to blink twice in order to confirm that such a vision was real and not a figment of his dreams for there was no way that he could seriously believe that she was a local girl of this fishing village. She seemed almost regal, a sure sign of nobility...and yet...what was such a woman doing here? And why did she conduct herself as if the frenzy taking place all around her was of no real concern to her whatsoever?
"Greetings noble Hero," she said in a lilting voice that was oddly accented, "I am the Princess Medea of Colchis come hither to pay my respects to you."
Jason actually blinked at that as he responded, "Colchis? You are the daughter of King Aertes? But...what are you doing here in Salamis? Colchis..."
"It's a very long ways away from here, I know," she replied, "I am on a pilgrimage to the lands of the Ionians and my ship-alas-ran aground on some reefs. Will you not assist me, noble sir, in getting to my appointed destination?"
"Certainly," Jason leered, not wanting to be too specific about what "destination" sprang immediately to mind, though looking at this statuesque beauty made it rather plain to him that she would be sharing his bedsheets by the time his ship set sail for parts south, "Have you any baggage which you might wish to bring on board, Princess?"
"None but what I carry within me," she replied with a rather enigmatic smile, "Which you will understand in another moment."
"Er...I don't quite follow you..." Jason started to say when a shadowy presence became known from just behind his back. Jason started to turn around to see who it was who was standing there...some sort of huge figure in bronze armor...when-
-all of a sudden-he felt something enter through his backside, sliding into his body as though fitting out a new garment. For a moment Jason shuddered with a sudden surge of conflicting emotions, feeling the rage of battle conflict with the fire of passion for some girl he had never yet met, then all at once he straightened out again, glanced down at his limbs and smiled in satisfaction.
"Now this is more like it," he mused, flexing his arms and saying, "A strong body...a man can do a lot with this kind of equipment."
"Welcome to your new home, my Brother," said Medea, "I trust your mortal host is as accommodating for you as mine most amply suits me?"
"Well enough, Sister Dearest," Jason smiled, "This suits me just fine, and might I add that you look pretty stunning in that yourself."
"Flatterer," Medea teased, "Shall we be off then?"
"Just so," Jason turned to his right-hand lieutenant and said, "Blow the Conch and call the boys back. We're shipping out ASAP..."
"Eh?" his lieutenant blinked his eyes, "Shipping out, Cap'n? But...the boy's aren't done having their fun with the ladies..."
"Are you deaf, Man?" Jason seemed to suddenly loom twice as large and intimidating in the other man's eyes, "I said we're shipping out...have you got a problem with that?"
"Ah...n-n-nosir!" the other man cringed without quite knowing the full reason, "We'll do exactly as you say...Boy! Blow the Recall signal! Get the men back to ship on the double, ASAP!"
"Yessir!" the youngest ship's mate replied before lifting his conch and blowing out a signal, which brought a nod of satisfaction from his nominal Captain, who smiled his approval in an almost chilling manner.
"Good crew discipline, I like that," Jason nodded, "Come on board, Sister Dearest, we are taking leave of these shores in search of my true beloved...she of the golden locks who has captured my heart..."
"Yes, of course, Brother-dearest," Medea replied as she allowed Jason to lift her into the galley, then settled in as though claiming it by right of birth, "Meanwhile I must find my own true intended...he who is the dashing Herakles, before one of our Harpy siblings attempts to claim him for herself..."
"Herakles," Jason spat, "That wretch who defies me and stands in the way of my true love? I shall run my sword through him before I let him lay a hand upon his betters! Come, Sister, to battle! And may our loves' conquest be hard-won and merry!"
The second in command, an NCO by the name of Tiphys, was more than a little disturbed upon hearing his Captain address that dark haired witch by the title of "Sister." True she was a sultry beauty, but there was a kind of madness about her eyes that made the Helmsman shudder slightly in dread of coming under her attention. His captain, too, was noticeably different, not the easy-going sort he had been but a moment ago but rather someone a bit harder edged and more of a martinet. It was as if the spirit of some God had just taken Jason's body over, for he certainly seemed taller and more imposing than in prior moments.
But still a good first officer had to force himself to address the stranger presently wearing the shape of Jason by asking, "What heading shall we make, Cap'n?"
"We sail North to Attica," Jason replied, "And with luck we'll be there by nightfall."
"Attica?" Tiphys blinked, "But...what about Lacunae?"
"Is something wrong with your hearing?" Jason asked in a dangerous way that as much as said that the first officer might well watch himself in how he chose to answer that question.
"Um...right," Tiphys could not quite manage to fully suppress a shudder, certain now that it was the work of the Gods that was in play for causing all of this to happen, and as any decent Hero well knew (with the sole exception of the late and lamented Bellerophon, who had become late by ignoring this key point) that if there was anything more dangerous than a Hero to cross, it was a God with a mission, for not only could they kill you but they could make your afterlife just as unpleasant, and with no chance at a parole (other than to reincarnate) it was better for all concerned to just give them what they wanted and hope that they would turn away and bother somebody else's existence...
Which pretty much summed up the general attitude about Heroes, but irony was lost to the Helmsman and would hardly have been appreciated under the circumstances as he turned away to do the unknowing bidding of the Gods of War and Madness...
"Well," remarked a now human-seeming Cleo as they trudged down the road leading from Thebes, heading due south, "So that was Zeus back there, huh? Pretty impressive guy, reminds me a lot of Osiris back home..."
"You should see him when he's not in somebody else's body," a weary Herakles replied, "Impressive doesn't even do him justice."
"You don't exactly sound thrilled about it, Brother," Ithicles remarked, "Is meeting your real father that much of a problem?"
"It ain't that, Bro," Herakles growled, "It's a lotta other stuff all coming down at one time. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starting to feel like a toy on a string, like I've seen kids play with down in Mesopotamia..."
"In other words you've been all over the place," Atalanta griped, "But did you ever think of stopping by and looking me up in Corinth?"
"Ah...well..." Herakles winced.
"You've been to Mesopotamia?" Antiope asked, "Wow, I'm impressed!"
"I've been to lots of places, Kid," Herakles replied, "Just ask Pops here, anyplace where they teach some form of martial art, I've been there..."
"At least as far as the known world, right?" Iolaus asked, "I think you were trying to get to Cathay when you took your little side-trip into Amazonia, right?"
"Yeah, that was the basic idea," Herakles grumbled while trying very had not to look at the two Amazons casually walking alongside him, the Queen and her kid sister (well...technically you could call them that even if they were both centuries older than himself), "Just got a little sidetracked..."
"If you had come to Amazonia asking for proper directions," Hippolyta replied, "You might have at least been steered in the proper direction. We know the Silk Road to Cathay very well, though it is a long and hard passage through barbarian lands infested with giants and monsters..."
"Nothing I can't handle," Herakles assured them, glancing sidelong at Genma before adding, "Pops here seems to think we could one day stop off at his homeland, even if-from what he tells me-the place won't even be inhabited by his people for a long while to come yet."
"Ah yes," Maegara replied, "Nippon, I believe you call it? Unfortunately there are no references to such a place in any of my scrolls back on Olympus, though I have heard of a far eastern island inhabited by hairy red-headed men little better than savages, and the Gods who live there are said to be quite potent spirits of nature."
"Good call, Sis," Iolaus replied, "Just for curiosity's sake I once took a spin around that area...not much to report, of course. The lands are pretty unsettled and the population is sparse. The only part that's even halfway civilized is Cathay itself, a pretty medium-sized empire built around their so-
called Yellow River, but they have library scrolls there that would even impress you if you got a good look at them sometime."
"Perhaps it would be worth a trip," Maegara conceded, "But for now I think we had best keep walking if we are to make to Mycenea, as Hecate has instructed..."
Hercules scowled, and Hippolyta took note of this as she asked, "And this troubles you, Husband?"
"I don't like jumping through that Witch's hoops," Herakles grumbled, "Mind you, I ain't saying she's total bad news or nothing, but I get this feeling she's got...what's that word again? A hidden agenda behind all this Quest stuff that she keeps insisting on...and why by Gaea do I have to look up my cousin Eurystheus anyway?"
"You don't like the guy, do you?" Chalcione asked as she walked alongside her giant boar companion.
"Yeah, well...I hate to talk bad about the little prick," Herakles grumbled, "But the guy creeps me out. How a total wuss like him ever got to be King is a real testimony to what a bad idea it is to pick your kings on the basis of whose Pop sired them. You'd understand if you've met him..."
"I have," Iolaus replied as he reflected back on the incident within the Theban palace, "And I agree, taking up a job in his service does not appeal to me in the least...what could Hecate be thinking..."
"What's the matter, Dear?" Creon smiled at the cringing Jocasta, "Surprised to see me? I have been keeping up on recent events, you know, and I've heard all sorts of interesting things about your activities here on Earth. Would you care to explain your side of the story, hmmmmm?"
"Ah...Husband," Jocasta winced, "I...can't imagine what you might have heard...I am simply looking out for the interests of your son and..."
"Buhl-sheet!" Iolaus pretended to sneeze into his hand, adding a profuse, "Gaea bless me..."
Creon glanced around at the ruined palace and said, "This is your idea of looking out for my son's best interests?"
"Ahm...well..." Jocasta fumbled for an explanation.
"A well is a very deep subject for shallow minds, or so I am told," Maegara remarked, "And you should be more careful about leaving the evidence of your crimes lying around Step-mother. Ithicles may have paid the price this time around, but Herakles is hardly in any better condition..."
"If you don't mind, Daughter," Creon said, "I think I can handle this part by myself. What about it, dear? Do you happen to know why my son's mortal brother should have lost control in such a manner that he could not tell friend from foe from brother?"
"Husband," Jocasta replied, "I can't imagine what it is that you suspect me of, but I assure you that what became of Herakles was none of my doing. The boy seemed to act abnormally when he saw the changeling girl assume the form of a lioness, and all at once he started attacking people and did all this damage fighting against his brother..."
"Why do I have this feeling that there is more to the story than you are telling, Grandmother?" Hippolyta mused.
"Past history?" Chalciope sniffed.
"Maybe it's just her time of the month?" Atalanta suggested.
"More like her time of the decade," Antiope corrected.
"Hermes," Creon said without taking his eyes off of Jocasta, "Perhaps you might explain it for me. Exactly why did your brother lose control like this?"
"Search me, Dad," Iolaus replied, "He kept shouting something about a Lioness and then flew off the handle. Genma seemed to know what was bothering him, but..."
"I see," Creon cast his gaze around and then stretched out a hand as though to grasp at something invisible...a moment later he held Genma by the scruff of his neck dangling above ground level with the latter beating frantic hoofs in the air as if captured in the act of running. "Now then," Creon growled in a particularly ominous manner, "What is this about my son having a weakness?"
"Urk!" Genma belatedly realized that he was not only NOT gaining any ground but that the ground he was dangling above looked suspiciously a lot like the demolished throne room of the palace. That hand on his neck was also a disturbingly familiar sensation, and with a slight gulping noise he took a pretty accurate guess at just who was addressing him in such an imperious manner.
"Better let him down so he can answer you, Daddy," Maegara suggested.
"But save the strangling option for later, just in case it's needed," Atalanta helpfully added.
"Good thinking on both counts," Creon said as he dropped Genma on his squat butt, "Now then...mind explaining to me what this was all about, Genma old boy? Starting with why my son is afraid of lions?"
"Er..." Genma felt his neck and weighed his survival options against how truthfully he could answer that one, seeing an unconscious Herakles passed out on the ground with Maegara kneeling over him, "Ah...well...the Makoken...a very dangerous technique...really takes it out of the boy, and all that..."
"So I gathered," Creon replied, "Keep talking."
"Ah...well...a while ago, when he was still a young lad barely half his present age," Genma continued, "We chanced to meet up with some very unpleasant people...I believe they called themselves Kurghans..."
"Oh yes," Hippolyta noted, "We know of them...barbarians from the upper steppe plains...very unpleasant people indeed."
"Yeah," Antiope said, "They like to toss young children into open pits to fight with wild animals and...oh my...you mean...?"
"I'm afraid so," Genma replied, "They tried to do that with the Boy, but it was a pit of Lions they were using to amuse themselves, and I'm afraid the Boy suffered some...psychological damage and-URK!"
This time Creon lifted him up from the front area, and he did it by gripping a handful of the Man-Satyr's chest hairs, hauling Genma up to eye level as he growled, "AND YOU LET THEM DO THIS TO MY SON? How could you?"
"If I might interject my own presence here," said Hecate, who appeared from the shadows of the room with silky smoothness, "I believe that I can elaborate upon what friend Genma here is attempting to explain."
"You again?" Creon growled, "What is it this time, Witch-Queen?"
"Observe the image that I conjure," Hecate waved her staff in the air and at once a shimmering picture took form in full life-like relief, of a young boy approaching a wounded lioness who was favoring one paw, speaking soothingly to the animal before getting near enough to examine its injuries, upon which point he took out a belt knife and carefully removed a huge wooden splinter that had been lodged painfully in its paw.
The lioness growled in protest, but Herakles was powerful enough to hold her immobile while performing the delicate surgery, then winging a bandage made from cloth torn from the hem of his leather jerkin. Taking a sprig of leafy material from his belt he wound it up into a poultice and tied it to the injured paw, then calmly smoothed the mane of the lioness, whose protests were by now less severe, even as it licked its bandage experimentally before deciding to leave it alone.
"Oh look!" Antiope smiled, "He pulled a splinter out of his paw, how cute."
"What a cute little cub he was," Cleo added, amazed that a young human would show this much compassion.
"Boy always was one to wander off and ignore the wisdom of his Sensei," Genma huffed quietly to himself in faint disgust.
"He tranquilized the lioness with a dart tipped with a mild toxin, as he had been taught to do by the Centaur named Chiron," Hecate explained, "In these days he was very good with working with animals, almost a Forester during this time when his training included the mastery of arms, as well as learning the unarmed techniques insisted upon by Genma. As it turned out, this training served him very well when the two of them foolishly ventured into the lands of the Kurghans. The Lion Goddess herself remembered his kind gesture and decided to bestow upon him the favor of her benediction..."
"You mean...?" Chalciope blinked.
"Indeed," Hecate nodded, "Observe," she said as new images took form in the space before her.
Now the image showed Genma and a slightly older boy Herakles being herded along by men with spears, clubs, swords and wicked looking axes, barbarians by the look of these rough men, who were shoving their captives towards an open pit near the edge of their village. With great guffaws of delight they shoved Genma and Herakles into the darkened spaces, then illuminated same with flaming torches, allowing both Satyr and youth to have a good look at their impending fate...a near-full pride of lions who dwelled within this man-made chasm, unable to leave and clearly quite hungry from the look of the bleached bones which littered the floor of the basin.
Genma-faced with certain death and having little hope of survival-looked panic-stricken in all directions while Herakles just stood his ground and looked nervously at their new cell-mates. The lions had been lounging around, hungry and fretful, but were now rousing from a fitful slumber, sensing fresh meat just waiting to be slaughtered. The male lion who headed the pride just looked disdainfully at the pathetic morsels being offered as dinner, turning up his nose as though they were beneath his royal notice.
The lionesses (and younger male lion) who made up the rest of his pride were less discriminating about where their next meal came from, and without passing judgement on the fitness of this meal, they lined up to stalk their kill, their teeth bared menacingly while overhead the Kurghans cheered them on and roared for the slaughter to begin.
The young Herakles-hardly more than a mere boy of ten-picked up a half-
chewed thighbone and held it like a club in both hands, clearly defiant to the last and ready to go down swinging as the lead lioness made her lunge for this rather succulent-seeming morsel. Herakles managed to lodge the bone between her jaws as her weight bore him down, and for a moment he seemed to be at a disadvantage as the larger creature tried to force him into submission...
But then a curious thing happened...the lioness paused and stopped attacking the unarmed boy underneath her...instead she began sniffing him about and making curiously wuffing noises, even as the other lions paused as if they too were puzzled by her curious behavior. All at once-to their mutual surprise and that of the boy himself-she started licking his face in a quite obviously affectionate manner.
Genma-torn between fear for his own hide and fear for what would become of him should the son of his Patron get eaten (to say nothing of the fact that he was likely to be next on the menu)-was equally surprised when the boy did not, in fact, get eaten. He looked around nervously at the gathering of lions, convinced that they were the type who would consider Goat Legs a delicacy, and saw them mulling about in confusion as if uncertain what to do, their hunger momentarily forgotten as they puzzled out the confusing behavior of their female Pride Alpha.
The Kurghans were no less astonished by this inexplicable behavior. It had been three full days since they last fed a victim to the lion pit...what was wrong with these animals? Why weren't they ripping the boy and his Master to pieces? A slow murmuring of dissent well up within them and their mood went from festive to disappointed and even angry. They wanted to see blood and this need for live entertainment was being frustrated. Not having civilized amenities (like Satellite TV-feeds of Professional Wrestling matches) they were definitely feeling gypped, and more than a few started throwing things at the lions, hoping to stir up some kind of a reaction.
And Herakles? He was petrified by a mixture of fear and wonder, staring up at the lioness, who was looking down at him as though she had become transfixed by a power greater than herself, and then her eyes began to gleam with inner fire...and Herakles's own eyes began to gleam...and all at once he snuffed the air and made a tacit, "Rowl?"
The lioness backed away, allowing the boy to get up on all fours, staring wonderingly at the maternal gaze of the lioness and tilting his head with a curiously feline expression.
"Mreow?" the boy inquired.
Genma-knowing full well the significance of that noise-pressed his back up against the wall of the pit and tried to make himself as small as he could manage, dreading to attract the boy's attention at this most sensitive of moments. He did not know how it had happened-there was not a hint of fish sausages to be found in all these primitive wastes-but the boy had just been infected with the Madness that Genma knew so well and dreaded. No longer was this a small and fragile boy (well, a boy with the strength of a hundred grown men, but still...), instead this was a walking force of nature poised before his Sensei looking ready to explode into fury at any moment.
That catalyst for that moment was when one Kurghan youth foolishly threw a rock directly at the crouching boy, and Herakles reacted to this with a sharp growl of, "MREOW?" He turned to see the jeering men lining the rim of the pit, and suddenly he was not afraid of either them or their weapons.
Without pausing to think of what he was doing, the boy charged the wall of the pit, causing Genma to scramble for cover, and with hands moving in a furious blur he began to tear at the wall with bare fingers, ripping out rocks, dirt and earth in a blur while the lions gathered around in curiosity (none being foolish enough to stand in the path of the dirt spray) as the transformed human cut a trough through the earth, which formed a literal ramp mere moments later, even as Kurghans standing along the rim lost their balance atop the crumbling rim, a few falling into the pit, much to the delight of the hungry lions.
What followed next was too gruesome to be described in a fanfic, the lions following the boy (who was now one of them) as he led the way out of the pit and into the village. Men screamed like old women while old women ran for the hills carrying their children in their arms while a living dervish tore into their village like a literal hurricane, laying waste to every inanimate thing that stood within his path. Weapons were shattered, beaten aside and torn from the bloody hands of the men who wielded them, leaving them helpless to face the lions, who were intent themselves on paying back old scores against their longtime tormentors. Genma cautiously crept out of the now-vacant pit and saw the bloodied bodies everywhere, gulping in terror as he decided that the pit would make a good hiding place, at least for a few more hours...
Finally daybreak fell upon a now-deserted village where fattened lions lounged about with contented feline expressions. Genma crept once more out of the pit and stole his way across the bloodied field of battle, searching about for his lost charge until he found the boy curled up in the lap of a lioness, sleeping dreamily away as though he were back in the arms of his mother. Extricating the boy from his comfortable position, Genma carried him away with as much stealth and haste as his goat legs could manage...
Hecate ended the vision about this point then smiled, "And that is how your son acquired the Makoken, Lord Zeus, the spirit of the Lion, which fills him at times when he is confronted by the creatures."
"Incredible," Zeus averred, turning to Jocasta, "Did you see that? Did you see the way the boy fought off those barbarians? By Chaos, what a fighter! He was unstoppable, invincible..."
"Out of control?" Jocasta blanched, feeling mildly sick to her own stomach.
"Ah...yes..." Genma said somewhat self-importantly, "The Makoken...the fiercest technique known to the Saotome Ryu. It is a forbidden technique, to be used only in times of gravest crisis, when the boy ceases to think like a human being and is filled with the battle rage of a true born Lion. When he is in this state he fears nothing and feels no pain, no fatigue, only the rage that turns him into an unstoppable engine of pure destruction..."
"In other words," Hippolyta noted, "When he is confronted by lions he becomes a lion in order to blend in?"
"Some ultimate technique," Chalciope sniffed, "You turned our brother into a Berserker."
"Wasn't me," Genma hastily replied, "You saw how it happened...it was the Spirit of the Lioness herself..."
"Precisely," Hecate nodded, "And with the mark of the Lioness within him, he becomes a Lion himself and ceases to think like a human."
"Oh really?" Cleo said with a speculative expression, "And does this just apply to when he's angry? What about...oh...say...when he gets horny?"
"Huh?" said a bleary-eyed Ithicles, who was curled up in her lap and only now starting to regain full consciousness, "What was that...? Something about...Herakles...and a lion...?"
"Never mind," Cleo patted his face gently, "I'll explain the details later, handsome."
"Man, that is brutal," Atalanta said, "You mean every time he sees a lion he's going to freak out like that?"
"Well, first he'll try and avoid contact with lions," Genma replied, "Even to hear one mentioned will cause a strong aversion, but when he can't escape, he'll gradually lose all sense of himself as a man and become a lion just to preserve his sanity, and after he recovers he won't even remember what happened."
"Sounds mighty convenient," Ithicles felt the sides of his temples and groaned, "What...happened...?"
"Other than you getting poisoned by step-mother here?" Maegara asked, glancing meaningfully at Jocasta, "Though I'm sure you weren't her intended target."
"Ah yes," Creon turned back to regard Jocasta, "About that, my dear...would you care to explain your actions?"
"Ah...my lord," Jocasta hastily said, "There's been some...misunderstanding..."
"I know, my dear," Creon replied, "And you have made it. Did you really think I would turn my back and allow you to have a free hand in plotting against Herakles behind his back? You set a trap that turned out differently than you expected...it's too late now to play spin doctor and cover up your tracks with clever slogans..."
"Excuse me...have we come at a bad time?"
Heads turned once again to a new group that was tentatively approaching, stepping carefully over the rubble that constituted the remains of the palace throne room.
"Who are you guys?" Chalciope asked.
"Um...nobody," said a young man with a pronounced limp, rather good looking in a nondescript manner, "Just some concerned citizens and a tourist, pay us no mind, we'll just be going..."
"Not so fast," said another man in a well-made tailored chiton, "We came to see if you needed our help, Great King. When we saw that our palace was under assault and your guards had fled..."
"...We thought we'd do our patriotic duty and come to your defense," a third man tactfully cut in, "But if matters are already in hand, then we could always leave..."
"One moment," Creon said in that casual, soft-spoken way that true monarchs had to telling you that you had better obey if you knew what was good for you, "Just who are you people?"
"Who...us?" a forth man gulped, "Oh...no one special...except for him."
The "him" in question was the man with the pronounced limp, who suddenly found himself at the head of the "delegation of concerned citizens" who were now positioned tactfully behind him.
"And you are?" Creon asked of this worthy.
"Ah...my lord," the man bowed politely, "I am called Oedipus, a former resident of the city of Corinth, adopted son of King Polybus, now come on a pilgrimage to seek out my ancestral roots in the land of my birth..."
"You were originally from Thebes?" Creon asked in a peculiar manner.
"I believe so, Great King," Oedipus replied, "King Polybus has recently revealed to me that I was found as a mere infant exposed to the elements, but I was found and rescued by his wife, Periborea, who raised me as her son though I was lamed by an injury inflicted by whoever it was that had abandoned me..."
"I see..." Creon mused softly, his eyes strangely unfocused as he said, "Daughter...please corroborate something...I would like a second opinion. Do you sense what I do of this young man?"
Maegara's eyes also gained that curiously unfocused look as she stared at Oedipus for a moment, then with widened eyes she said, "He is of noble birth, Daddy! In fact-!"
"That's enough," Creon smiled, "I think you've come to exactly the right place, my dear boy...but, just for the record...why are you here?"
Oedipus was about to respond to this when the first citizen spoke out more brashly, "Great King, this is the man who has rid us of the curse that is the Sphinx!"
"What?" Cleo blinked, "But I...!"
"The Sphinx you say?" Creon's smile deepened, "Do go on."
"My King," Oedipus spoke before the first citizen could interrupt him once again, "It is not certain that she is dead...I only saw her go over a cliff into a ravine with another young man after she became enraged over having her riddle be solved..."
"And did you solve the riddle of this Sphinx?" Creon asked in a curious manner.
"Well...I..." Oedipus started to say when the first citizen spoke up for him, "But of course, Great King, who else could have braved the terror of the Sphinx but a man touched by the hand of the gods, for surely such a one as he, to have survive abandonment and exposure that he might come to us as a man of noble stature..."
"Just so," Creon smiled again, then added, "Just for the record, though, what was the riddle that this Sphinx used?"
"Um..." Oedipus thought for a moment then said, "I believe it went something like...what crawls on four legs in the morning walks on two legs by day and three at night..."
"That's a riddle?" the second of the accompanying citizens scratched behind his head.
"Sounds like a toughie to me," a third citizen responded.
"And the answer is?" Creon asked dramatically.
"Well...a man," Oedipus replied, "But..."
"A man?" Chalciope blinked, "How do you figure?"
"Oh, that one's easy," Hippolyta smiled, leaning over to whisper something in the ear of the Pig farmer, to which Chalciope immediately colored.
"That's the answer all right," Cleo frowned, "But he's not the one who-MMMPH!"
"Let's just keep that little bit to ourselves for now, okay?" Atalanta asked as she clamped a hand over the mouth of the startled Cleo, "Daddy's up to something...you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes."
"Yeah," Iolaus shuddered, "I haven't seen that look since he authorized that Chili bake-off on mount Thera, and we wound up blowing away a good chunk of the Minoan civilization."
"That was a gas," Atalanta agreed.
"So who was it who pulled on Dionysus's finger?" Chalciope glared in the blonde's direction.
"I see," Creon continued, ignoring these exchanges by his "children," "So, that means that you are a hero..."
"A hero?" Oedipus blinked, "Oh, no...I wouldn't say..."
"He's too modest, Great King," the first citizen spoke up again, "In fact, he would never dream of asking you to fulfill your royal decree regarding the man who freed this city of its two greatest threats, the Sphinx and the Hydra!"
"Uh...beg pardon?" Oedipus blinked.
"Royal decree," Creon stroked his beard in a thoughtful manner as if searching his memories before saying, "Ah yes...the decree that the man who freed Thebes of this threat would be given the crown and my daughter's hand in marriage. Well...I'm afraid my daughter isn't available...she's already been promised to another...but I know of another woman of noble birth who can more than suitably fulfill the terms of my royal promise...isn't that right, Dear Sister?"
It took a moment before Jocasta reacted to this with a bland, "Say what?"
"Sad to say," Creon sighed, "Her husband has recently fled the city, having been deposed for his numerous transgressions against the people of Thebes, last seen commanding a chariot on his way through the southern pass..."
"Southern pass you say?" Oedipus blinked.
"And...more unfortunate still," Creon continued, "Reports say that he met with an untimely end at the hand of some stranger at a crossroads, alas. I don't suppose you might have heard anything about that?"
"Um...crossroads?" Oedipus replied nervously, "Could you...describe her former husband?"
"Oh yes," Creon thought a moment again before saying, "Late sixties, scraggly beard, not too sharp a dresser, but his clothing is of fine make and is laced with golden thread..."
"Gold thread," Oedipus swallowed, "Ah...what style of chariot?"
"Ionian, Model 1267 Gold Gild chariot," Creon replied, "License number: IAMKING..."
"Oh," Oedipus said faintly, "A Camino...I see...not too many of those still in service, eh? Um, well...nice to meet you, Great King, but I must be..."
"FREEZE!" Hecate pronounced dramatically, and like that Oedipus and his quartet of hangers-on became like statues.
"What the heck was that all about?" asked Ithicles.
"You got me, handsome," Cleo glared at Atalanta, "What's the idea of having him think he'd killed me?"
"We'll get to that in another minute," Creon turned to the Witch Queen, "I don't suppose you know anything about this? After all, it took place at a crossroads..."
"And I am the Mistress of the Crossroads of Life and Death, eh?" Hecate smiled, "As a matter of fact, I know exactly what happened. Observe."
Another wave of her staff, another image called forth, and then they saw Oedipus climbing down from a ruined chariot, heatedly arguing with another man in a different chariot...a 1267 model Camino, to be exact. The old man in the other chariot was furious, waving his chariot whip and crying out, "What's the matter with you, you young fool? Didn't you see me rounding that bend in the road?"
"Now see here," replied Oedipus, "It's a public thoroughfare, more than wide enough to accommodate traffic in two directions. There was no need for you to come barreling around at such a reckless speed without looking where you were going..."
"Don't give me any lip, you insolent whippersnapper!" the old man shook his whip in a threatening manner, "You should show respect to your elders, not block the road when a man is in a hurry to get some place..."
"And where would that be?" Oedipus asked in a reasonable tone of voice, "Surely this late in the day you could try moving a bit more carefully. The ground here is rather unsteady and a fellow could take a nasty fall if he rides his horse off the road..."
"Don't you tell me what to do!" the old man angrily declared, "They thought they could throw me out of my own place, but I'll be back, you'll see, and I'll avenge these wrongs, and when I do...!"
"When you do, I'm quite certain you will be a royal terror to the folks in your home," Oedipus replied, "But I would like to be on my way into town before it gets dark, so why don't we just agree to call it even and go our separate ways..."
Instead of this most reasonable proposal the older man cracked his whip at Oedipus, who managed to duck under the lash as it wrapped itself around the rail-bar of his own more modest chariot, giving Oedipus a chance to grip it firmly in his hand and prevent its retrieval.
"Now see here," he said, "That was a bit excessive, don't you think?"
Instead the old man drew a short sword from his belt and snarled, "I may have lost my home, my wife, my kingdom and my dignity, but I haven't lost my pride, and I'll be hanged if I'll let one more of you young upstarts take that away from me!"
"Uh-just a moment!" Oedipus made a deflecting gesture as he backed away from the threat of the short sword, "There's really no call for that-WHOOPS!"
As fate would have it the younger man tripped backing up out of the way of the lunge of the older man, whose own momentum could not be checked as he stumbled in turn over Oedipus and went tumbling over the edge of the road, off into the ravine to the sound of a very loud scream. Oedipus was hugging his face as though fearing the inevitable when this happened, but when he looked up the old man was not to be found, only the sound of a choked off scream that broke off rather suddenly and was not henceforth repeated.
"Um...excuse me?" Oedipus asked as he looked around, finding no trace of the old man, and laying in such a position that the acoustics were too poor for him to make out much of that aforementioned scream, "Old man? Are you there? That's odd...where did he go...?"
It took a full minute for the young man to figure out just what had happened, at which point he decided to make himself scarce by driving off his damaged chariot, hoping to at least find shelter where it might be prepared before nightfall. Hecate banished the image then smiled at Lord Creon and said, "Is this what you were expecting?"
"Yes," Creon nodded, "Exactly."
"Father," Maegara spoke up without leaving the side of the still-unconscious Herakles, "That was his own father who tripped over him and fell to his death..."
"Yes," Creon replied, "I know. A regrettable accident, but a technicality in the eyes of the Furies. I see the hands of the Fates in this...the youth here is intended to return in glory to his native Kingdom to take up the mantle as the Prince of this, his ancestral city."
"But Ithicles is the rightful Prince of this city!" Maegara protested, "And Herakles..."
"Is the second born child," Hippolyta finished for her, "Which makes him third in line for the throne, if what we have just seen here is to be relied upon...and I, for one, trust the Goddess in her visions."
"Flattery will get you somewhere," Hecate smiled, "But what matters is that this boy is technically guilty for the accidental death of his own father...a father who abandoned him to die of exposure, and deliberately stuck a needles in both of his ankles just to make certain."
"Yikes!" Antiope winced, "Why did he do that?"
"Because of a prophesy which claimed that the son would be responsible for the death of his father," Hecate replied, "Which neatly rounds out the sort of poetic irony that the Fates usually specialize in...however...there is one other provision of their prophesy which states that the boy is fated to marry his own mother...Jocasta."
"WHAT?" Jocasta herself reacted, "No way! Not even if-!"
"You heard what she said," Creon replied without glancing at his "sister," "The Fates have already decreed it, and so have I. You will marry him and take him for your husband..."
"What-?" Jocasta gasped, "Are you insane?"
"Yeah, Daddy," Atalanta reacted, "Even for me that's going a big overboard..."
"...And then you will abandon this body and leave it without memories of your having ever been present," Creon continued, "Just as I will abandon this body and return to Olympus. You have done quite enough meddling for one day, my dear...you can pick another Avatar at another time...AFTER you and I have settled a few matters concerning what you intended to do to Herakles and his brother."
"Dad?" Iolaus asked, "Are you sure about this?"
"The boy is not to blame for what the Fates have done with him," Creon replied, "Let him have his time in the sun until his tale has run its course. Thebes must have a new King, and Creon is determined to step down just as soon as he can find a successor. Ithicles would be a logical candidate, but his birthright would be difficult to prove at the present. Herakles could easily be king in his place, but..."
"But that would mean setting down roots here on Earth and abandoning the quest of the Twelve Labors," Hecate concluded for him, "Of course, sooner or later, young Oedipus must learn the truth about his life..."
"If so, then I do not envy him this knowledge," Creon replied, "He seems a fair enough lad, such news could well break him. I would that there is another way, but..."
"But you don't write the drama, do you, Grandfather?" Hippolyta replied, "You only occasionally make the odd notation to the rough draft."
"Well said indeed," Creon nodded, "As for the other matter..."
"Ugh...maybe you should ask me about that, Dad," Herakles said as he stirred on Maegara's lap, sitting up with great deliberation.
"Herk...you're all right?" Iolaus asked.
"Yeah...just peachy," Herakles growled, "If you don't mind me saying I feel like I just went five rounds with a Cyclopes..."
"How much did you overhear?" Hippolyta asked.
"Got the gist of the last minute or two," Herakles flexed his massive shoulders then said, "Dad...is that really your idea of justice? What you got planned for this poor guy..."
"You don't approve," Creon said without intending it as a question, "Can't say that I blame you, Son. I wouldn't wish a fate like that on my own worst enemy, if I hadn't already locked up all of my worst enemies down in Tartarus."
"Herakles...you had better take a few minutes before you try to stand," Maegara advised.
"Thanks, but the day I can't stand on my own two feet..." Herakles started to say when he tried to get to his feet, only to land back on his rump a few seconds alter, "Um...well...maybe another minute or two will help the room to stop spinning..."
"Lord Zeus," Ithicles spoke up, "I would not wish to contradict your judgement, but...why must I yield my claim to the throne of Thebes to the likes of this man?"
"Take a good look around you, Boy," Creon responded, "Do you really want to take charge of this place while it looks like a sty?"
The giant boar, Eurypylus, gave a sharp "Bwe!" of protest to that remark.
"No offense intended," Creon amended, and the boar at once subsided.
"Um...well..." Ithicles looked around at the ruins of the palace.
"Well, I don't know," Cleo remarked, "A little housecleaning, some brick and mortar, a few hieroglyphics on the walls and the place could look like home...or a tomb, anyway..."
"Okay," Herakles said, "So we made a mess of the place. I say that obligates us to clean the place up..."
"Maybe another time," Hecate smiled, "But you have another Quest to fulfill, and now that you have acquitted yourself of your second challenge..."
"Whoah," Herakles said, "Second challenge?"
"The first was the Hydra," the Witch Goddess replied, "The second was your step-
mother's attempt to poison you. You have gathered together a loyal party of friends, suitors and kinsfolk who have demonstrated their willingness to stand beside you and defend your welfare. You are now prepared to go out on the open road and face your third important challenge...the Hind of Ceryneia."
"The Hind of what?" Herakles repeated.
"Is that like Hind as in backside?" Atalanta asked, "Or Hind as in four footed were-dear with golden horns and a really nice tail...?"
"HEY!" Chalciope protested, "I know that Hind...that's one of my friends!"
"Nevertheless," Hecate continued, "You must bring the Hind alive to the court of Mycenea and present it as an offering to King Eurystheus, your cousin to the far south..."
"Eurystheus?" Herakles winced, "You gotta be kidding!"
"I only kid when I help a female goat to deliver," Hecate assured him, "You are then to present yourself in the employment of your cousin, promising to do for him a year of loyal service while I call upon you to perform the rest of your remaining nine labors."
"Put myself in the employ of that wimp?" Herakles bristled, "No way, lady! Uh-
uh! I won't do it..."
"If you refuse then you will never have your curse lifted," Hecate replied calmly.
"...!" Herakles blinked, then he scowled mightily and growled, "All right...I'll do it..."
"There is one more thing to add to this," Hecate continued, "Maegara...that is to say, the present incarnation of Athena...has demonstrated loyalty and devotion to her brother and has earned the right to marry him, within the terms of our previously stated agreement."
"WHAT?" this proclamation surprised both Hippolyta and Atalanta, while Chalciope just blinked in astonishment at hearing such an unexpected declaration.
"I agree," Creon nodded, "Athena has first right to become the wife of Herakles. I will even implant the memory into my present host's mind that he has given his daughter in marriage to a mighty hero worthy of great honor."
"Uh...huh?" Herakles replied, "Say what?"
"I...you mean...he and I...but why?" Maegara asked of the goddess.
"You are goddess of Wisdom," Hecate smiled, "You figure it out. As for the other suitors...the game is still on for you all. Hippolyta also has the right to claim first wife status under the terms of an Amazon group marriage..."
"Oh..." Hippolyta blinked, "I...see...yes...well, under those terms, I suppose that I might...share..."
"You what?" Atalanta looked at her metaphorical "daughter."
"Lady Athena," Hecate continued, "Do you accept in principle your right to share Herakles in a group marriage."
"Ah...well...yes, in principle...I mean...if Herakles is all right about this..." Maegara verbally stumbled.
"And do you agree to accept the both of them as your wives, brave hero?" Hecate turned to the stunned demigod in question.
"My...huh?" Herakles blanched.
"Say yes, you young fool," Genma whispered in his ear, "Trust me on this, Boy, your life won't be worth much if you say no to this kind of an offer..."
"As much as I hate to say it, Herk," Iolaus murmured in his other ear, "I have to agree...life would be a lot easier for you if you went along with the deal, at least until we figure out who get carried over the threshold."
"Aphrodite and Artemis are still at liberty to pursue their own suits," Hecate continued, "By the terms of an Amazon group marriage, up to four women can share a single man, provided they all abide by an agreement to treat one another as equals."
"No thanks," Chalciope sniffed, "I'll pass."
"As you will," the Goddess smiled enigmatically, "But you will still continue to accompany your brother for the remainder of his quest, if only to insure that all terms are fulfilled, by which I mean...no more attempts on your part to kill him."
"Daughter?" Creon eyed Chalciope with a questioning manner.
"Ulp," she winced, suddenly not quite so cocksure about her present situation.
"Well, what about me?" Atalanta said, "My host is also engaged to the guy, and she's not gonna want to play second fiddle to anybody!"
"Then let her decide how to deal with this in her own way," Hecate advised, "Antiope...will you also continue to petition your uncle as a co-wife in a group marriage?"
"Hmmm...I think I'll pass for now, but the idea is tempting," Antiope said, "I think I'd rather remain single for a while, just in case I meet a really cute guy along the way. Besides, I want to see Sis land her new husband..."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Herakles protested, "HUSBAND?"
"It is, of course, still your choice whether or not you wish to marry them," Hecate assured him, "But I think you would be better off agreeing to abide by them as your three fianc es...at least for the present."
"Fianc es? Dad-!" Herakles protested.
"You have the right to choose, all right, Son," Creon affirmed, "Just as long as you do what I say and marry Athena. Believe me, Boy, she's more than earned it."
"Huh?" Atalanta blinked her eyes, "What did she do to deserve that?"
"Ah..." Maegara winced slightly, not wanting to reveal the full truth within hearing of her brand new fianc .
"They all want that hunky guy?" Cleo sighed, "What a shame..." but then she glomped onto the arm of Ithicles and smiled, "But I still have you, Cute Stuff, and at least you're still single!"
"One other thing," Hecate mused, "To clarify the point...it no longer is an issue who Herakles chooses to marry, just so long as he honors and respects the woman or women whom he chooses. To that end, I would recommend that he not wait around too long before trying them out to learn if they are compatible or to his liking..."
"Try them out?" Herakles repeated.
"She means Sex, dummy," Iolaus stage-whispered.
"Oh," Herakles blinked then started, "SEX?"
"Don't worry, Husband," Hippolyta smiled, "I have lots of experience, and I'll be happy to lead you through it."
"And what she doesn't know, I can teach you," Atalanta grinned, "And that goes double for you, Sis...you're not exactly the one with a thousand notches in her garter belt, y'know..."
"I...what?" Maegara blinked, looking just as stunned as Herakles himself at that particular moment.
"HELP!" Herakles cried out, wondering if fainting would be a good career option...
"Herakles?" Maegara's words stirred him from his reveries of the moment.
"Yeah...?" he stopped himself from calling her "Sis," finding the word did not exactly help his mood as they trudged away into the night together.
"For what it's worth," she said, "I do want to marry you...but only if you want me. I would never force you into anything, let alone a...situation as delicate as this..."
"Yeah," Herakles said in a husky voice, not bothering to elaborate.
"Why so shy, Auntie?" Hippolyta smiled, "Why not tell him that you love him and want to be his love tool, just like Mother here?"
"Bite me, Kid," Atalanta smiled back at her metaphorical "daughter."
"I still don't see why I have to be a part of this," Chalciope griped, "Or why Hecate wants you to go picking on one of my friends..."
"Not my idea," Herakles grunted, "Feel free to take off anytime you like, Sis."
"I'm just wondering something," Antiope remarked, "Are we gonna be walking on foot all the way to Mycenea?"
"Well," Hippolyta remarked, as she patted the mare trotting along at her side, "I did bring my own horse, and you're welcome to ride her if your feet become too tired, little Sister..."
"Oh, I wasn't worrying about me," Antiope assured, "I just thought we could save more time if we all had horses...um...do you hear something?"
"Hmm?" Chalciope blinked, glancing back over her shoulder.
"I hear it too," Cleo remarked, "Do you hear it, Handsome?"
"I do," Ithicles remarked, "Sounds like...chariot wheels?"
"Yes," Genma replied, "And coming this way at a good clip."
"What do you think?" Atalanta fingered her war-hammer, "Could be trouble?"
"Maybe not," Herakles replied, "But just in case, everybody stand ready..."
"Wait!" Hippolyta urged, "I think I almost recognize that driver...but...?"
All at once a large chariot came riding up, one drawn by four horses rather than the usual one or two, a fancy looking chariot that appeared to have surprisingly good suspension.
But the surprising thing about it was not the chariot itself (though it most certainly WAS impressive) but rather the driver...a woman in a long dress bound by a clasp to one shoulder with a heavy riding cloak across her slender backside. She was tall and willowy with a very nice build, rangy yet unmistakably feminine, and with long chestnut colored hair that flowed about her shoulders, blending in with the night itself.
She expertly pulled the chariot up just short of their group then called out to them, "Oh my...I've finally managed to catch up with you. I had a bit of a time finding out where you had gone to..."
"S-Sis?" Chalciope blinked, "Is that you, Hebe?"
"Deianeira of Calydon," she responded, "Daughter of King Oeneus...but you may call me Hebe if you wish it, Sisters."
"Hebe?" Herakles blinked his eyes, "Is...that really you, Sister?"
"Oh my," Deianeira replied, "I suppose that all depends on what you mean by me...I have the memories of my host body...a very interesting woman, she has led a most active and interesting life for a princess..."
"Lucky you," Maegara complained, not wanting to add that she was still feeling a bit footsore in her newly acquired mortal body (she really had to work harder on toughening it up in some ways...)
"It's not that we're not glad to see you, Sister dear," Iolaus remarked, "And don't misunderstand me for asking this, but...what are you doing here?"
"Why," it was a little hard to see it in the dark, but Deianeira gave the impression of deeply blushing as she replied, "I'm here to partake in our little contest, Sisters dear...and to provide you with something I thought you could find practical...transportation."
"You mean...the chariot?" Herakles blinked.
"It belongs to my host," she replied, "Among her many skills she is a very fine charioteer, and there is room enough here to carry as many as six people."
"Well now," Atalanta smiled, "Isn't that just too convenient?"
"Six people, huh?" Herakles did a quick head count, "Well...counting you, there are about eleven of us by my reckoning..."
"Don't worry about me, Husband," Hippolyta smiled, indicating her War Mare, "I have my own transportation in hand..."
"And I can ride double with her if I get too tired," Antiope cheerfully remarked.
"Don't go to any trouble on my account," Chalciope huffed, "I prefer going on my own two legs, and if I ever get tired I can always hitch a ride with Eurypylus."
The giant boar grunted his assent to that notion.
"That leaves eight of us," Atalanta remarked, "Anybody want to take turns walking?"
"Oh, don't worry about me," Cleo smiled, shifting her body into her intermediate Sphinx mode, "I can manage my own way, and if Handsome here gets to ride anybody, you can bet it's going to be me."
"Huh?" Ithicles replied with a somewhat surprised expression.
"Aw, don't worry about it," Herakles smiled, "Uncle Genma can handle the walking part himself, right Pops?"
"Eh?" Genma replied, looking somewhat nonplussed at the suggestion.
"In which case," Iolaus turned to Maegara, "Might I suggest that you be the first one to ride in back, Sister dear? You may be trying to hide it, but I can tell that you are not enjoying the trek in your present condition."
"Eh?" Maegara replied with a guilty start, "Well...oooh!" she exclaimed as Herakles suddenly picked her up and carried her over to the chariot and set her down next to Deianeira.
"I can handle the walking part myself for now," Herakles told her, "But you need a rest, Sis...and don't argue with me about it, okay?"
Maegara suddenly felt her cheeks flush crimson, though in the dark only Deianeira was close enough to notice.
"I'll scout on ahead and find us a place that can serve for a night's lodgings," Iolaus volunteered, smiling as he could sense the potently confused and erotic thoughts that were flowing through the mind of his normally ethereal sister.
"No, I'll do that," Chalciope said tiredly, "The night is my element and I can see in the dark almost as good as by day..." she suddenly stumbled and fell into a ditch, causing everyone to turn and look in the direction of where she had been standing.
"Sis?" Herakles asked.
"NOT ONE WORD...NOT ONE WORD ABOUT IT, YOU HEAR ME?" Chalciope called out from her crestfallen position.
"Guess that means we really are on our way, huh?" Atalanta mused as she climbed into the chariot beside her other two sisters.
"We are indeed," Deianeira replied, "Shall we be off, Brother dear?"
"I thought we already were," Herakles grumbled, but sighed as he added, "C'mon...let's find a good spot for camping...we'll talk some more about it in the mourning..."
Continued.
Comments/Criticisms/Chaotic Chronicles: shadowmane
Herakles and the gang have a chat about comparative religion while on their way to Mycenea while Zeus has a private session with Hera and Hecate, and we learn who else is on their way to become involved in the growing legend of a great hero. Be with us next time for: "Theseus and Thesaurus," or "How to Bury a Millionaire (in Egypt)." Be there!
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