No copyright infringements intended for any of these characters owned by RenPics - just having fun here, guys!
“I don’t get it,” Iolaus said, sitting at the table and accepting the mug of mead that Salmoneus handed him.
“It’s very simple,” the salesman enthused, plopping down next to him. “We have an arena, see, and people pay to come in and watch. Then we pick a few names from the audience, and those people get to come down and compete.”
“Compete how?” Iolaus ignored Hercules, who was telling him in sign language that he shouldn’t be encouraging their companion.
“Well, I’ll hold up a priceless object and they have to guess how much it’s worth. The one with the closest guess wins the prize.”
“But if it’s priceless,” the hunter argued. “How can they guess the price?”
“You’re right,” Salmoneus agreed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Wait a second! Scrap the price idea. What if we had them answer questions instead? Yeah, and every question is worth more dinars. We’ll start with an easy question, say for 100 dinars, and then the contestants have to work their way up through harder and harder questions. We could go all the way to a million!”
“And just where are you going to get a million dinars to give away?” Hercules chimed in.
“Hercules, you wound me. Surely you think more of my merchandising skills than that? Wealthy merchants will supply the prize money, minus a small organizational fee for myself, of course, in exchange for advertising and recognition. It can’t lose!”
“It will lose. Listen to me Salmoneus,” the demigod continued over the salesman’s sputtering protests. “I’m an excellent judge when it comes to these things. No one is ever going to go for this idea. Not in a million years.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Salmoneus agreed, sobering briefly before a new idea struck home. “Ok, how about this? We dump a group of people on a deserted island...”
“Excuse me, but I’m looking for Hercules.” The demigod was grateful for the interruption.
“Well, you’ve found him,” he said, motioning for the messenger to sit with them. The man declined his invitation and gave him a parchment before dashing away quickly to deliver his next message.
“That’s a royal seal, isn’t it?” Iolaus asked, pointing at the wax impression.
“Yes. King Lycaon’s seal, I think,” Hercules replied, examining the mark before he broke it and unrolled the parchment.
“Bad news?” The hunter couldn’t help notice his partner’s expression change as he scanned the message.
“You could say that,” Hercules answered evasively. “Come on. I’ll tell you on the way to Arcadia.” Even though neither partner had invited him along, Salmoneus hastily declined to accompany them, but wished them luck all the same.
“What was that all about?” Iolaus wondered as they left the dimness of the tavern for the bright sunlit street.
“I believe it has something to do with a few unsatisfied Arcadians that threatened to hang him if he ever returned. Defective batch of air sandals.”
“Forget I asked,” the hunter groaned, falling into step beside his friend. They walked in silence for several minutes. “So, are you going to tell me what’s in Arcadia, or am I supposed to guess?”
“Cadmean warriors.”
“Cadmean warriors?” Iolaus repeated. “Like the ones Queen Agave had?”
“They are the ones Queen Agave had,” Hercules told him.
“I thought they destroyed each other.”
“Five were left alive. Ares took them.”
“Why in the name of Zeus didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I guess I was hoping I wouldn’t have to,” Hercules tried to explain. “You were hurt and I was exhausted and I just didn’t want to go into it at the time. I meant to tell you later, but...”
“Later never came.”
“I’m sorry, Iolaus,” the demigod apologized, picking up the annoyance in his friend’s voice. “I should have told you.”
“It’s ok,” the hunter said. He was still miffed at what he considered an insult, but he’d get over it. “Any other tidbits you want to confess?”
“Just that Xena and I were secretly married last year.”
“I thought so,” Iolaus confirmed, playing along. “She’s been accidentally calling out YOUR name for some time now.” He ducked the swing that came toward him and bounded off down the road. Hercules shook his head, but gave chase anyway.
They were a far distance from Arcadia, and it took them three day’s journey to reach the city. Once they arrived at the castle, the partners were immediately ushered in for an audience with the king.
“Hercules,” Lycaon greeted. “I’m so grateful to you for coming.”
“We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Hercules assured him, shaking his hand. “This is my partner, Iolaus.”
“Welcome,” the king said to the hunter, also shaking his hand firmly. “We here in Arcadia are glad to have you.”
“Your message mentioned the Cadmean warriors?” Hercules began.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Lycaon answered, sobering. “But you must be hungry after your journey. Come, follow me to the dining room, and we can discuss it over dinner.”
Hercules opened the door to his room in answer to the soft knock and admitted Iolaus.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he took in the pensive look on his friend’s face.
“I was just wondering what you thought about all of this,” Iolaus said as he sat on Hercules’ bed.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” the hunter replied, leaning back on the bed and locking his hands behind his head. “On one hand, this is one of the warmest receptions I’ve ever gotten from royalty. We’ve been treated like the guests of honor so far.”
“But?” Hercules prompted.
“But I just have a feeling. Something’s wrong here. I don’t know what it is, but something’s definitely not right.”
“You think Lycaon’s lying about the warriors?”
“No, I think he’s telling the truth about them. It’s something else. He needs us to take care of this problem, but there’s something going on that he doesn’t want us to find out about. That’s why he’s treating us so well. He’s hoping to distract us from this other thing.”
“What makes you think so?”
“It’s in his eyes,” Iolaus said, sitting up and looking at his partner. “I can see it there.”
“What? What do you see?”
“Evil,” the hunter said simply, rising up and clapping a hand on the demigod’s shoulder as he passed him on his way out. “Night.”
Hercules sat for a long time and pondered what Iolaus had told him. He hadn’t really noticed anything amiss with the king, but he knew better than to take the hunter’s suspicions lightly. Iolaus generally had a very good sense of these things, and if he felt something was up, then Hercules was inclined to believe him. Eventually, the demigod went to bed, but he resolved to keep his eyes open for the remainder of their stay.
“Not to be pessimistic,” Iolaus began as the duo left the safety of the castle walls and entered the large orchard that stretched behind the kingdom. “But if these five Cadmean warriors ripped apart the king’s entire army, how are the two of us going to stop them?”
“These warriors were designed to be killing machines,” Hercules explained. “All they know is brute force. No army is going to stop them in battle, no matter how large.”
“So, you’re saying we need to outwit them.”
“With the help of a few Old Hunter’s Tricks.” It took Iolaus a moment to realize that Hercules was indeed serious and not teasing him.
“Well then,” the hunter said with a broad grin. “Let’s get to work.”
A few short hours later, the partners were surveying the results of their handiwork. Two of the warriors had blundered into a camouflaged pit and impaled themselves on the sharp spears below, two were crushed under a heavy log that had swung down onto them from the treetops, and the last one was dangling upside down after having taken an unfortunate step into a well placed snare.
“That was too easy,” Iolaus frowned, not entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
“Don’t get too complacent,” Hercules warned. “Ares will probably be here any minute, demanding compensation for his playthings.” As if on cue, a bright flash of light signaled the arrival of a god, but it was not the god of war that materialized before them.
“What are you doing here?” Hercules asked in surprise.
“Saving Ares a beating, I’m sure,” Zeus grinned, coming forward to greet his son. “Nice work, boys, but I’ll take it from here.” The king of the gods waved his hand and the remains of the Cadmean warriors vanished.
“Why, of all places, did Ares station those monsters HERE?” Iolaus questioned.
“Who really knows why Ares does anything,” Zeus answered, rather dismissively. “He had some grudge against King Lycaon, I think. And speaking of which, why don’t we head back there and tell him that his problem is solved?”
“We?” Hercules couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his voice. “You’re coming back with us?”
“Sure,” his father told him. “It’s been awhile since we’ve spent any time together. I just want to do some catching up with my favorite son.” The demigod exchanged a look with the hunter, who just shrugged and started on the path back to the castle. Iolaus didn’t trust Zeus at all, but he alone knew just how desperately Hercules craved a relationship with his father, so he held his tongue while they brought up the rear.
Hercules knew the risk he was taking as he regaled his father with tales of their latest adventures. Every time he tried to let the god into his life, he ended up hurt, angry, disappointed, or a combination of the three. But the part of him that desired his father’s pride, attention, and love wouldn’t let him stop trying. So, he tried to silence the little voice inside of him that was attempting to work out Zeus’ ulterior motive behind this visit.
It was actually a rather pleasant walk back to the castle. Zeus had the charm on full force, and as many mortals knew, especially the females, it was almost impossible to resist him when he was at his best. Despite his misgivings, Hercules was drawn in, and they were soon talking and laughing like nothing had ever passed between them. The demigod was also very happy to see that his father was taking special care to include Iolaus into the conversation. Only Hercules, who knew Iolaus better than he knew himself, could see that the savvy hunter still had his suspicions about the validity of Zeus’ presence. But he had joined in the fun anyway, determined not to dampen the experience for his friend.
Hercules relaxed as they entered the castle and waited for the arrival of King Lycaon. Zeus still had not given any indication that he had a hidden agenda, and the demigod was actually starting to believe that his father really had shown up just to see him. Lycaon was delighted with the announcement that the warriors had been destroyed, and he was in awe that the king of the gods had chosen to come to his castle. He called for a great feast to be prepared, with Zeus, Hercules, and Iolaus as his guests of honor.
When the meal was spread out on the banquet table, the two heroes and the king of the gods were ushered in with a majestic fanfare of trumpets. Lycaon insisted that Zeus take his throne at the head of the table, with Hercules and Iolaus in places of honor on either side of him. The king raised his glass, making a very eloquent speech that praised and thanked his guests heartily. When he had finished talking, he sat with a flourish and bade his guests to dine.
“Before we start,” Zeus said authoritatively, rising from the throne. “I would like to say something.” Iolaus sighed heavily and put down his utensils, having just prepared to dive into the feast before him. “King Lycaon, you have been most generous and gracious to us tonight. Normally, I would be honored to be the recipient of such hospitality. But I’m afraid we cannot dine with you.” Zeus quickly reached out and slapped Iolaus’ hand as he tried to sneak a bite of his food. “Trust me, son, you really don’t want to eat that.”
“Why not?” the hunter asked in confusion. “Is it poisoned?”
“No,” Zeus said softly. “But it is not pork, either.”
“Would you please tell us what is going on here?” Hercules was starting to get annoyed, suddenly realizing that his father did indeed have a secret reason for accompanying them back to the castle.
“Our friend Lycaon here has developed a taste for human flesh,” Zeus announced. “What is before you was a young girl only yesterday.” Iolaus looked down at his plate in horror, pushing it away from him as he felt the nausea welling up inside. Hercules was equally horrified at his father’s accusations.
“Lycaon,” Zeus addressed the king, his tone suddenly becoming much harsher. “It is bad enough that you participate in this sick behavior yourself. And worse that you force it on your unknowing guests. But to serve this to me, the king of the gods, in such a open gesture of disrespect is a crime that cannot go unpunished.”
“Whatever you’re thinking of,” Hercules warned his father. “Don’t do it.”
“Let the punishment fit the crime,” Zeus continued, ignoring his son. “You crave human flesh? Then you will be accommodated.” A bolt of light shot from the god’s hand and struck Lycaon. The king howled in rage, pain, and fear as he began to change shape. Everyone in the banquet room watched in disbelief as he completely metamorphosized. Where the king had previously stood, a large gray wolf now sat. The creature howled again, a true, haunting howl this time, then turned and leapt out the window, crashing through the glass. Iolaus ran to look out after him, seeing him streak across the grounds and disappear into the blackness of the night.
“Why did you do that?” Hercules demanded angrily of his father.
“He deserved it,” Zeus replied, irritated with his son’s tone.
“We could have taken him to the magistrate,” the demigod continued. “He would have been tried fairly and locked up. Now, thanks to you, he’s out there where he could hurt more people.”
“Or maybe he’ll be shot before he has the chance,” Zeus retorted. “I handled this in my own way, Hercules. Do not question my actions. And by the way, Lycaon has a supply of people locked in his dungeon. Let them out before you leave here.” And with that, the king of the gods vanished.
Hercules picked up a wine goblet and threw it hard against the wall before turning to lean against his chair, gripping the back tightly while he tried to get his anger under control. Iolaus resisted the urge to say “I told you so” and instead rested his hand supportively on his friend’s shoulder. After a few minutes, Hercules was calm enough to meet his friend’s steady gaze.
“Let’s go get those people out of the dungeon so we can get the Hades out of here,” he said gruffly, and the hunter quickly agreed.
The entrance to the dungeon was hidden behind a false panel, but Hercules did not have much trouble in getting one of the castle guards to show them where it was. As Zeus had told them, the cells in the dank dungeon were crowded with innocent people. All of them had a terrifying story to tell of the cruelty of the king of Arcadia. Half of the city had ended up in the dungeon, which meant they were destined to be killed to satisfy Lycaon’s demented hunger. It had started with those convicted of crimes, but the list quickly grew to include those that couldn’t pay taxes, those that were physically or mentally disabled, and finally, innocents that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hercules and Iolaus were appalled to see such a great number of children among the imprisoned, and they were told that the youngsters were rumored to be a special favorite of the king. As it turned out, Ares had sent his Cadmean warriors to Lycaon’s orchard to punish him for killing and devouring a few of his favorite mercenaries. Not a moment too soon, the partners ushered everyone from the dungeon and gave them back their freedom.
“I don’t know about you, Herc,” Iolaus said quietly. “But I’m not especially anxious to spend the night here tonight.”
“I know what you mean,” Hercules agreed with a shudder, trying to get the sight of the bloodied slaughtering equipment out of his mind. “Let’s go down with the villagers and find somewhere else to stay tonight.” As the pair escorted the celebrating former prisoners back to Arcadia, neither saw the wolf that was watching them intently from the shadows.
Circe ran a hand delicately over her crystal ball and rose to go look out of the window. Holding her spyglass up to her eye, she could just make out a speck on the ocean’s horizon. She smiled to herself and turned to stretch her lithe body across a cushioned sofa as she waited, using her magic to send a strong headwind to help bring the ship to Aeaea. It had been some time since she’d had visitors, and the sorceress was bored.
Her patience was rewarded the following evening as two of her servants brought in a young man. Circe bade her guards to leave her with the stranger, running an eye over him appraisingly. He was young and very handsome, and she considered sparing him for a bit to have some fun.
“Great Circe, enchantress of Aeaea,” the man said grandly, bowing before her. “My name is Prince Arcas, son of Lycaon of Arcadia. I recently returned home from Athens and found that my father has befallen a terrible fate. On his behalf, I‘ve come to beg for your help.” The sorceress turned away, hiding a disgusted look. Royalty were all the same, and she had learned through the years that they generally were not even worth the trouble.
“Whatever happened to all those rugged adventurers that used to sail past?” she whispered under her breath, pouring a jug of wine into two golden goblets before turning back to the prince with a benevolent smile. “You have journeyed far, Prince Arcas,” she said silkily, handing him one of the goblets. “Have some wine with me, and we will talk.” The prince grinned apologetically and set the goblet down on a nearby table.
“Forgive me, my lady, but I have no desire to end up in your sty with the rest of your misfortunate guests.”
“Could it be I’ve gotten too predictable?” she purred. It was hardly the first time she’d used the tainted wine to turn visitors to her island into swine. Maybe it was time for a new hobby.
“Please, great Circe, I beg of you to just hear me out. I have a proposition for you. One that you may be interested in.”
“Very well, young prince,” the enchantress conceded, somewhat impressed with his wisdom and grace that belied his years. Maybe this one would turn out to be fun, after all. “I will give you a few minutes.”
“Greece to Hercules,” Iolaus said loudly, waving a hand in front of his partner’s vacant eyes.
“Sorry, Iolaus,” the demigod told his friend. “What were you saying?”
“You mean just now, or everything I’ve been saying in the last half hour or so while you haven’t been listening?”
“I was thinking about Lycaon,” Hercules said, attempting to sound casual as he poked at their campfire with a stick. The teasing grin on Iolaus’ face faded. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, staring into the flickering flames that danced before him.
“Yeah,” the hunter agreed soberly. “I’ve been wondering if maybe we shouldn’t have tracked him down.”
“I guess Zeus was trying to do the right thing,” Hercules sighed, tossing the stick over his shoulder and hearing the rustle as it disappeared into the night. “But I have a feeling that his brand of punishment is just going to bring us more trouble on down the line. Lycaon is still out there, and he has the potential to really hurt a lot of people.”
“We haven’t left Arcadia too far behind,” Iolaus suggested. “We could still go back there and try to find him.”
“No, we’re expected in Eustis,” Hercules said uncomfortably. “Zeus was probably right. If Lycaon tries to go after anyone, he’ll most likely end up swinging from a hunter’s pole. But I’d still feel better if he were locked up in prison and not out there.” The demigod gestured vaguely out into the night. Iolaus didn’t answer, but he couldn’t help silently agreeing with his friend as a sudden chill of premonition ran down his spine.
“What was I thinking?” Circe asked herself as she stared morosely out of the castle window into the village below. Due to her recent descent into boredom, she had agreed to accompany Arcas back to Arcadia. Her powers that could turn men into animals were also able to have the reverse effect, and the sorceress easily reverted the lupine beast that prowled the castle grounds back into the form of Lycaon. And as Arcas had promised her, she had been rewarded with all that Lycaon had.
“What am I going to do with a kingdom?” She murmured, realizing that her tedium had manifested in her new habit of talking to herself. It was time to shake things up, she thought, and maybe time to consider Lycaon’s proposal. The king had been understandably happy to be returned to his correct form, but he hadn’t been satisfied. He wanted revenge, and had been very persistent in his pleas to Circe to help him achieve it. So persistent, in fact, that she had threatened to turn him back into a wolf if he didn’t stop harassing her. But, helping him would make things much more interesting, so after a sleepless night of deliberating, the sorceress sought out Lycaon.
“Circe,” he greeted her, not bothering to hide his surprise. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“Lycaon, I’m not even sure I can do what you ask of me.”
“I think you can,” the king said coaxingly. “Please, Circe. I’ll give you whatever you desire. And once Zeus and the other gods are gone, the whole world will be yours to command.”
“Very well,” the sorceress sighed. “I will try.” Lycaon couldn’t suppress an evil grin as Circe left his room. He went to his window and looked out into the starry night sky.
“That’s the problem with curses, Zeus,” the king whispered to the air. “You never know when they’re going to turn against you.”
Iolaus shut his eyes and turned away from the sight that stretched before them, finding that the image had ingrained itself firmly into his mind, no matter how much he tried to will it away. Unlike his partner, Hercules found he could not turn away. His gaze was riveted on the village, a look of utter disbelief on his face, as if he were trying to convince himself that what he was seeing wasn’t really there.
“I’ve seen a lot in my time, Herc,” the hunter said hoarsely. “But I’ve never seen anything like this.” The demigod gave a small nod of agreement, eyes still glued to the carnage before them. An entire village of men, women, and children had been decimated. Not just killed, but ripped apart and strewn about the streets and houses. Choking back the bile rising up in his throat, Hercules started moving into the town. More than anything else on earth, the hunter did not want to follow his friend, but he forced himself to move forward. The stench of death was heavy in the air, and the heroes found it difficult to find a place to step that was free from blood or flesh or bone. Iolaus glanced at his partner, and saw in his eyes that he too was failing to comprehend the utter horror that was all around them.
“I guess the rumors were true,” the hunter whispered.
“Guess so,” Hercules echoed. For days, they had been hearing stories from frightened travelers that the gods had all gone mad. Until they had come upon this unfortunate village, the demigod wasn’t sure what to believe. Now he was convinced. He knew it was not unheard of for Hera, Ares, or one of the other gods to destroy a village on a whim, but even they had always had their limits. However cruel, petty, and spiteful the gods, they had never before unleashed such inhuman destruction on mankind. If the massacre before them had been caused by the Olympians, then they, surely, had gone mad.
“Herc,” Iolaus begged desperately. “Can we just get out of here? There’s nothing we can do now.”
“We can bury these poor souls,” his friend replied.
“Bury what?” The hunter looked around him helplessly, seeing only an entire village of grotesquely mutilated forms and scattered human components.
“I don’t know,” Hercules answered woodenly, realizing the absurdity of his suggestion. “Maybe we can...” He stopped suddenly and flashed the hunter a warning signal. Iolaus immediately tensed and stood ready, senses alerted. Off to the left, he heard a slight scraping noise, and a small chill ran down his spine as he realized that they were not alone.
The demigod motioned his partner to move forward, and Iolaus held his breath as he crept stealthily beside Hercules toward the noise. As they picked their way through what used to be the marketplace of the small village, they both noticed a flash of movement from behind an overturned stall. Iolaus silently drew his sword and gripped it tightly as they closed in on the increasingly familiar shape crouched behind the wooden planks.
“Ares?” His name was blurted in unison by the two warriors as they recognized the huddled form before them. The god of war stood slowly and turned to face the two men. Cold fear flooded through Iolaus as he realized that he and Hercules were in deep trouble. Ares stared at him intently, but his eyes now shone with an evil red light, glowing like two hot embers and drawing the hunter deeply into their hypnotic depths. The god opened a bloodstained mouth to reveal huge razor sharp fangs as he growled a primitive, animal sound. He advanced on Iolaus, reaching out for him with long claws, and the hunter found himself paralyzed. As Ares leapt at him, a hard shove from Hercules knocked Iolaus clear and freed him from the mesmerizing eyes that had entranced him.
The demigod stepped before Ares and blocked his path to Iolaus. Ares hissed wildly, and tried to bypass his half-brother in a desperate attempt to get hold of the hunter. Again, Hercules blocked him, but had to duck quickly as the lethal claws slashed out at him. Ares once more started after Iolaus in a maddened frenzy. The hunter was able to fend him off with his sword, but was somewhat distracted by the crazed bloodlust in the god’s features. Ares succeeded in knocking the blade from his hands, but Hercules was able to pull him away before the deadly claws could inflict any damage to the hunter. The god finally realized that he wasn’t going to be able to get to Iolaus until he’d dealt with Hercules, so he attacked in a wild flurry of motion. They fought viciously for what seemed like hours, until finally Hercules managed to launch the god through the air into a house that had already been half demolished. The force of impaction was enough to bring down what had been left standing, and Ares was buried under a mound of rubble.
“Run!” Hercules commanded, turning and grabbing Iolaus by the arm. “That’s not going to hold him for long.” The hunter did not have to be told twice. In a quick burst of speed, they left the village and Ares behind them.
“Ares couldn’t have done all that himself,” Iolaus panted, when they finally felt safe enough to stop.
“You’re right,” the demigod agreed, pushing his brown hair out of his eyes. “It looks like a group of them got there first, and Ares just kind of stumbled into it after it was over.”
“Herc, what are we going to do?”
“First we have to figure out what’s going on. And if anyone can tell us that, it’s Tiresias.”
“Tiresias?” The hunter frowned. “Isn’t he the guy that Hera blinded and Zeus gave him the gift of prophecy as a compensation?”
“That’s him,” Hercules confirmed. “He specializes in doom.”
“Well, then he’s the man for the job. But Herc,” Iolaus stopped his friend as he started walking once more. “Isn’t he dead?”
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy,” the demigod replied.
Iolaus woke from the nightmare with a violent start. Heaving a sigh of relief, still shaking slightly from the intensity of the dream, he sat up and stirred the dying embers of the fire. They had debated over whether to build a fire or not when they had stopped to camp for the night, but in the end, the evening had grown too cold not to. The hunter added another piece of wood to the fire, trying not to notice how the glowing cinders eerily resembled the blazing red eyes with which Ares had transfixed him. As the log caught fire and the flames began to illuminate the area around him, Iolaus became aware that Hercules was not in his spot by the fire. Normally, that would not concern the hunter, but after the day’s events, he was very much ill at ease. After a few minutes to rule out the possibility that the demigod was answering nature’s call, Iolaus got up to search for his friend.
Lighting a torch from the fire, the hunter ventured away from the campsite, shivering heavily in the cold night air. He wrapped his arms tightly across his chest and called out the demigod’s name over and over. There was no answer, but Iolaus pressed on. The torch lit his immediate surroundings, but the forest around him was shrouded in blackness, and what he couldn’t see terrified the hunter. Calling out his friend’s name again, Iolaus moved very carefully, all senses tuned in to any potential danger. He didn’t see Hercules until the last second, and narrowly avoided falling over the still form hunched on the ground.
“Herc, are you ok?” he asked, kneeling beside the huddled figure.
“Iolaus, get out of here.” The demigod had his face buried in his arms, but even though his voice was muffled it still sounded tight and strained.
“Why? What’s wrong.”
“I said go! Get away!” Hercules looked up, and Iolaus felt cold, hard fear grip him as he saw the red glow emanating from his friend’s eyes. He dropped his torch and stood in horror. Hercules put his hands to his head as a look of pain flashed across his features. A wild, animal growl ripped from his throat as he struggled with the madness threatening to overtake him. In the end, the madness won out, and the demigod snarled and advanced on his friend.
Iolaus dodged the first lunge, but as he tried to run, Hercules grabbed his leg and he went down. As the demigod pulled him in closer, the hunter frantically clawed at the ground for anything he could latch onto. The torch he had dropped was fortunately still alight, and Iolaus grasped it firmly and thrust it at the demigod. Hercules yelped loudly as the flame bit into him, then fell back and lay still. The hunter knew he should run, but instead he cautiously approached his friend.
“Herc?” he whispered softly. The demigod groaned and sat up, blue eyes shining in the light of the torch. “Come on,” Iolaus told him, helping him up and trying to see the extent of the burn to his arm. “Let’s go take care of that.”
“I could have killed you, Iolaus,” Hercules said sadly when the returned to their campsite.
“But you didn’t,” the hunter replied, cleaning his friend’s wound as gently as he could.
“Maybe next time I will,” the demigod said painfully. “I’ve been feeling strangely ever since this began. Having these weird thoughts... and urges. I should have told you, but I thought I was protected by my mortal side. I thought I could keep it under control. But tonight...”
“We’ll figure this out,” Iolaus assured him, bandaging the burn. “We’ll find a way to stop this, and you’ll be fine.”
“I can’t go on with you,” Hercules announced, pulling away from his friend’s ministrations. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this in check. If I were to hurt anyone, especially you, I’d never be able to live with myself. You have to do it, Iolaus. Go and talk to Tiresias, and make him tell you how to end this nightmare.”
“Herc,” the hunter said carefully. “We’re talking about going into the underworld, here. I don’t know if I can do it by myself.”
“Oh, please. If that weakling, Odysseus, can do it, you certainly can.” Iolaus didn’t necessarily share in his friend’s confidence, but he knew it was his, and Greece’s, only chance for salvation.
“Well, it’s not like I haven’t been there before,” he reasoned. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll head up into the mountains,” Hercules answered, gazing into the black night in their general direction. “That way, if I do lose control, there will be less chance that I’ll run into anyone.” He gingerly ran his fingers over his bandaged arm and looked at his friend. “I’d better go now,” he said softly. “This is one time you are definitely better off without me.” It only took the demigod a minute to gather up his minimal belongings. “Be safe,” he told the hunter, extending a hand to him.
“You too,” Iolaus replied past the lump in his throat. “And don’t worry. I promise I’ll find a way out of this.” Or die trying, he silently added.
“I know you will,” Hercules told him with a loving smile. “You’re too much of a hero not to.” With a small wave of his hand, he turned and melted into the night.
Iolaus watched him go, then sat down beside the fire, adding another log to the blaze. Sleep was out of the question, so he just had to sit and wait out the rest of the night, until the light of dawn could guide him to his destination. He had never in his life felt so alone and afraid, and so unsure of his abilities. Everything was riding on him, and he knew he simply couldn’t fail. Hercules was counting on him and the hunter refused to let him down.
Iolaus stood looking into the deep waters of the Alcyonian Lake. It was rumored to be bottomless, and the hunter had never been overly fond of swimming. But his current situation left him little choice, and besides, he wasn‘t about to let Xena show him up. Unstrapping his sword hilt, he reluctantly left his weapon on the banks of the lake and waded in. Ignoring the shock of the cold water, Iolaus took a few deep breaths and dove below the surface. Kicking furiously, he propelled himself deeper and deeper through the murky depths of the lake. His chest began to burn, and the hunter began to think he might not make it. In abject desperation, he forced himself onward, lungs screaming out for air, blackness pressing in on him. Just when Iolaus began to accept the fact that he was going to drown, he ran into something solid. His hands felt rock, and he used the surface to push his way downward until he found a crevice. The hunter maneuvered under the cleft in the rock and rose upward, eventually popping out of the water into a gloomy chamber. Gasping for air, Iolaus pulled himself halfway out of the water and sprawled face down across the rock beneath him.
“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Not you again!” Iolaus wearily lifted his head to see the all-too-familiar face leering at him.
“Give me a break, Charon. I’m not in the mood.”
“No one’s ever in the mood to die,” the boatman grumbled. “Well, you can just lay there until your big pal comes to get you. I’m not taking you across this time. Unless, of course, you have a coin?” Charon shot him a hopeful glance.
“No, I don’t have a coin,” Iolaus replied, slowly dragging himself to a sitting position. “And I’m not dead.”
“Not dead? Then what are you doing here? Never mind, don’t tell me. I’m still not taking you across.”
“You are taking me,” the hunter said firmly. “I’m here to help you, but I need to find Tiresias.”
“Ha. Good luck. And what makes you think we need any help?”
“I ran into Hades prowling around in the woods up there.” Iolaus waved in the direction from where he had just come. “Lucky for me I saw him before he saw me, or I’d be down here for good. Now, you and I both know that without Hades to run this place, everything’s in chaos.”
“All right, get in,” Charon conceded after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll take you over, but I don’t know where Tiresias is anymore.” Iolaus hopped in the ferryman’s boat, and Charon poled the vessel out into the River Styx. “This thing got Hercules, too?”
“Yeah,” was all Iolaus could manage for an answer. Thankfully, Charon did not press the subject.
“I’ll be watching for you,” the boatman announced as they landed along the shore of the underworld. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll take you back.”
Iolaus thanked him and jumped aground. Charon quickly poled his boat away, and the hunter had a strong feeling that he should have brought his sword with him. As he predicted, the underworld was in chaos. Tartarus was deserted, and all the souls that previously inhabited it were running amuck around the Elysian Fields. The damage they could inflict to the good souls abiding there was minimal, as they were shades after all, but they had everyone fleeing in terror, regardless. The hunter happened upon a discarded cloak on the ground and quickly snatched it up, wrapping his upper body in the folds of material. Many of the villains milling around him had gotten there by way of Hercules or himself, and he really did not want to remind them of that fact, especially since he was without his sword.
The hunter quietly prowled around the area, taking care not to draw attention to himself. Though it was hard for him to not get involved, he silently passed by former thugs and warlords harassing the innocents. There was no way for him to right this turmoil now. The only hope for these souls was to remedy the condition of the gods, so Hades could return order to his domain. But the hunter did stop beside one familiar house. Through the window, he could see Deianeira preoccupying herself with setting the table. Alcmene was there too, entertaining the children with the wild stories that she used to tell Hercules and Iolaus when they were young. Iolaus wanted to go and knock on the door more than anything. He needed to be in the presence of people that he cared about now, and be reassured. But if he entered the house, he would have to tell them why and how he was there. Which meant, he would have to tell them about Hercules. The hunter wouldn’t cause them that worry, so with a heavy heart, he turned from the cozy looking abode and continued searching for Tiresias.
Iolaus was beginning to think he’d never find him. He’d covered almost the entire span of the Elysian Fields, and had failed to come across the seer. The hunter was hungry and exhausted, but he made himself keep looking. He start to skirt around a small section where a group of former Tartarus inhabitants were causing mayhem, but a solitary figure caught his eye. The ancient man was sitting with sightless eyes towards the melee, chuckling delightedly at the scene around him.
“Are you Tiresias?” Iolaus asked quietly, approaching him.
“No. Go away.” The hunter frowned in confusion. He’d never met the seer, but from Hercules’ description, this had to be the man.
“I think you are Tiresias,” he said with conviction.
“Well, I’m not. Now leave me alone.”
“Tiresias, you sure called this one,” a burly man enthused, stopping his pursuit of a lovely young shade to address the old man. “I just wish I were back up above to get a piece of that action.” Abruptly, the thug took off again as another young shade dashed by.
“That guy is obviously punch-drunk,” the seer sputtered.
“Why did you lie to me?” Iolaus questioned, sitting beside Tiresias.
“Because,” the seer answered, realizing that he was caught. “I know who you are and what you want, and you’re going to spoil all my fun.”
“Fun?” The hunter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You think that evil souls tormenting the good and people getting slaughtered left and right up above is fun?”
“Doom and gloom at its finest,” Tiresias beamed. “Despair and desperation rule the land.”
“Tiresias,” Iolaus said as patiently as he was able. “You can’t let this go on. Good people are dying. Surely you must have someone up there that you care about. What about Hercules? Don’t let this happen to him. Help me help him. Please.”
“Oh, all right,” the seer fussed. “Even if you succeed, there is still doom in the air for someone. Circe, the enchantress, is behind it. She’s cast a spell that’s made the gods crave human flesh You‘ll find her in Arcadia.”
“How do I stop her?” Iolaus asked.
“You have to kill her,” Tiresias laughed. “And that is no easy task.”
“But it can be done,” the hunter pressed.
“The herb moly will make you immune to her charms. Then you must remove the pendant she wears. It protects her with a shield, making it impossible to kill her with sword or arrow. Only then can you kill her. Once she is dead, the spell will be broken.”
“Thank you, Tiresias,” Iolaus said, getting to his feet. The seer waved him off and turned his attentions back to the bedlam before him as the hunter raced back to where Charon was waiting. A few of the shades finally realized that someone was escaping and Iolaus had to fight them off, but he managed to beat them back enough to enable him to jump into the boat before more reinforcements arrived.
“Get what you needed?” the boatman asked, using his pole to take them back to the entrance of the underworld.
“Yes,” the hunter replied, leaning back and thinking, for the first time, about what Tiresias had actually told him.
“You don’t look too hopeful,” Charon said gruffly.
“It’s been a long day,” Iolaus answered dismissively. And to end this nightmare, I have to kill the world’s most powerful sorceress, he thought to himself. A loud wail from a dark cavern off to the side broke him out of his contemplations. “Charon, what is that?”
“All the souls that have come down since Hades left,” the ferryman explained. “The dock was getting crowded, and I couldn’t take them over to that mess. I didn’t know what else to do with them.” Iolaus closed his eyes as another wail came from the darkness.
“I swear that I will stop this,” he whispered under his breath. In no time, they were back at the place where he had entered the other side.
“Hey, if you don’t make it...” Charon called out.
“I know, I know,” the hunter mumbled before he plunged back into the watery crevice. “I’ll bring you a coin.”
“Where have I heard that one before?” the boatman complained.
Iolaus found the return trip to be much easier than his trip down. Buoyancy was working with him this time, instead of against him, and he made it to the surface of the lake without too much trouble. Darkness had begun to settle over the land, and all he wanted to do was to light a fire, dry off, and sleep. But he hadn’t forgotten that Hades had been in the vicinity, so he gathered his sword from the spot where he’d left it and began walking in the direction of Arcadia.
The evening breeze lightly stirred the hunter’s golden curls as he stood from his vantage point on the hill above King Lycaon’s castle. He had been watching for the last few hours, trying to decide how best to proceed with his quest. No ideas of any merit were striking him, so he decided to just wing it.
Crouching down, Iolaus used his flint to ignite the small pile of sticks that he’d gathered. As a flame consumed the tinder, he set a mug of water next to his tiny fire and pulled out the moly plant that he’d collected on the way. Breaking off the black root and tossing the white flower aside, the hunter began to make a tea out of the herb. When it was ready, he sniffed it cautiously and took an experimental sip. The brew was worse than any concoction Hercules had ever forced on him, but Iolaus downed the whole dose. In the fading light, he pawed the ground to find a few mint leaves to rid him of the bitter taste of the potion, then doused the fire. Gathering up his belongings, the hunter made his way down to the castle.
“Well, well,” Circe cooed as Iolaus was ushered into her by the palace guards. “I knew a stranger would be dropping in tonight, but I had no idea you’d be so handsome.” She ran her fingers delicately over the sphere of her crystal ball.
“We found him lurking in the stables,” the head guard informed the enchantress. She nodded and waved away the men. The guards bowed and backed quietly out of the room.
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Iolaus said contritely. “I was just trying to find somewhere to hide. Someplace where the gods wouldn’t find me.”
“You’re safe now,” Circe consoled him, rising from the divan that she was reclining on and going toward the table in the corner of the room. “Here,” she offered, handing him a goblet. “Have some wine to settle your nerves.”
“Thank you,” Iolaus replied, trying let his nervousness show through. He sent a silent prayer out that Tiresias had been right about the moly blocking the sorceress’ charms, and took a gulp of the wine. Minutes later, he had drained his glass, and Circe was staring at him in awe.
“Who are you?” she asked, reaching out to lightly touch his arm.
“My name is Iolaus,” he replied.
“Iolaus.” She savored the name as she positioned herself in front of him. By all reason, he should have been bacon by now. But somehow, even though he had drunk the tainted wine, he was still standing before her as a man. This one was definitely special, and Circe immediately was enamored. Unfortunately, Lycaon chose that exact moment to burst into her room.
“It’s true,” the king exclaimed. “One of the guards told me he was here, but I didn’t believe it.”
“What are you talking about, Lycaon?” Circe demanded harshly, moving in front of the hunter possessively.
“Iolaus.” The king gestured with his sword. “He’s here to stop us. We have to kill him.”
“You’re not going to kill him,” the enchantress hissed. “Don’t even touch him. I like this one.”
“Like him?” Lycaon asked increduously. “Circe, don’t you know who he is? He’s partners with Hercules.”
“Not anymore,” Iolaus said softly from behind the sorceress. “Hercules is just like the other gods now. He tried to attack me.”
“You can’t trust him,” the king advised, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the hunter’s meek tone. “He’s too dangerous. We have to do it.” He sidestepped the enchantress only to meet with Iolaus’ sword. The hunter pushed Circe out of harm’s way as his blade clashed loudly with Lycaon’s. Iolaus was by far the better swordsman, and quickly disarmed the king. He kicked the fallen sword off into the corner and began to sheath his own blade, but Lycaon pulled out a knife that was hidden in his robe and slashed at the hunter. Iolaus was faster, and the King of Arcadia was dead before his knife even touched his opponent.
“Are you all right?” Iolaus asked, going over to Circe.
“That was very heroic,” she murmured, wrapping his talisman through her fingers and pulling him in closer. Iolaus leaned in and kissed her lips, and the sorceress responded eagerly. This warrior was turning out to be too good to be true; a remedy for her severe case of boredom. She was never going to let this one go.
Circe suddenly realized that Iolaus was dangling her pendant in his hands. She lunged to snatch it from him, but was stopped by a sharp point pressing against her skin.
“Lycaon isn’t the only one that can hide knives,” the hunter said coldly, all trace of submission gone from his voice. “I don’t want to kill you, Circe. But I will if you don’t reverse that curse that you put on the gods.”
“I’ll remove the spell,” the enchantress sighed, failing to hide her disappointment. “But only after you let me go.”
“No. Do it now, or you die.”
“Then you might as well kill me now,” Circe told him. “It will be better than what the gods will have in store for me. They’re bound to find out that I did this to them. Use your imagination.”
“You should have thought about that before you did it.” Iolaus was determined to show no sympathy, but he realized that she meant what she had said. Slowly, and with great trepidation, he took his knife away from her throat. She reached out a hand, and he tossed her pendant back to her.
“I’m going back to Aeaea,” she remarked conversationally, tying the cord to her pendant together where Iolaus had severed it. “My power is strong there, and I’ll be able to protect myself if they come after me. When I get a boat to take me there, I’ll undo the spell.” Circe looked up at the hunter coquettishly. “We could pretend like none of this ever happened,” she suggested.
“Thanks,” he replied, not sure whether he should be amused, flattered, or disgusted by her offer. “But I’ll have to pass.” The sorceress shrugged and sashayed through the room.
“Goodbye, Iolaus,” she said, blowing him a kiss as she sailed out of the door. The hunter turned and fell across the divan, giving into the exhaustion that was plaguing him. By morning, either the nightmare would finally be over, or he would suddenly be very sympathetic to the way Hercules felt after getting hit with Artemis’ bow.
“Look at them. They’re just going about life as if nothing ever happened.”
“For them, nothing did happen,” Hercules reminded his friend. Zeus had been horrified when he realized what he and the other gods had done while under Circe’s spell, and he had restored all the lives they had taken, wiping the innocent people’s minds free of the incident. Iolaus and the demigod were watching the village that they had seen post-slaughter, now alive and well.
“It happened for me,” the hunter said softly.
“Me too,” Hercules agreed. He turned to his friend. “Iolaus, I am so sorry I turned on you. Please believe me, I’d never have forgiven myself if I hurt you.”
“I know that, Herc,” Iolaus said easily. “You were under Circe’s control. You didn’t know what you were doing. I know that if there were any way for you to stop yourself, you would have. The whole thing’s been an experience I’ll never forget, but everything’s ok now, so don’t worry about it.”
“So how exactly did you get her to undo the spell?”
“I can’t believe you even have to ask that question, Herc,” the hunter said smugly. “You know no woman can resist my charms.” Hercules rolled his eyes in disgust, knowing that he was going to be hearing about this for a long time to come.
Far away in Aeaea, Circe placed both hands on her crystal ball. She murmured the words of her chant, sending the spell out into the world. It was true that her charm would lose much of its potency by the time it reached Greece and its intended target, but the sorceress figured that even a little protection was better than no protection at all. And with the trouble that Iolaus could get into, he needed all the protection that he could get.
“Be safe, my warrior,” she whispered, seeing a faint image of him in the depths of her crystal. “For someday we may meet again.”
Disclaimer: Charon was not paid any dinars yet again during the writing of this story.
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