This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by MCA, Universal Studios, or Renaissance Pictures concerning Hercules: The Legendary Journeys. This story is for fun and no money was made from it.
He sat on a rocky outcropping, waiting. He didn’t know what he waited for or how long he had already waited or would yet have to wait. But he knew, if he waited, he would be rewarded.
He looked up at the sky. It was like no sky he had ever seen. There was no blue, no sun, only a solid blanket of fluffy, white clouds. Yet, it was light. The light was a soft glow, seeming to come from within the clouds. He gazed in amazed wonder at their beauty. Glancing down, he saw deep, ugly caverns of brown and red rocks, seeming to rise upward like hungry arms, reaching for him. He thought he heard faint sounds coming upward from below. Voices that seemed to beg for release, for death.
Tearing his eyes away, he realized for the first time that he seemed to be in some sort of “between” place. Waiting. Why was he here? What had happened?
He lifted his arm, meaning to run his hand through his tangled hair when he noticed his clothes. He was wearing loose pants and a loose, long sleeved shirt of some soft, fragile-looking material. They were as white as the clouds over his head. He was slightly amazed at the fact that he liked the new clothes. Then, absently touching his chest, his fingers brushed against something cool and hard. Automatically, his fingers closed around the stone, his mind registering that it felt broken.
Memories. His mind was suddenly filled with memories coming in a torrent, crashing into him as waves in the ocean crashed against the shore. A beautiful woman, dark and proud. A smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes as she caressed his cheek. A tall, strong man with long, brown hair and blue eyes holding him, pleading with him not to go.
Holding something tightly in his hand as it lay buried deep in his chest. It should hurt, but he realized that it didn’t and he knew why. It was a dagger, thrown with such force that it had severed his spinal cord. The only reason he could breath was because of the iron grip the larger man had on him, allowing his lungs to gasp enough air to allow him to look into the other’s eyes, pouring his soul into his unspoken farewell. He had smiled, a sad, small smile full of love, regret, acceptance.
He had only enough strength to utter one word. It was a name. The name of his soul-mate, his true brother.
“Herc.”
Hercules stood alone in Dahok’s lair, a single tear tracing down his cheek. His heart hurt so badly, he longed for death, for escape.
“Goodbye, Iolaus.” Goodbye, my brother.
He was at peace now. As he sat, waiting, he knew serenity for the first time in his life. He accepted that he no longer belonged with those he had left behind. He feared for Hercules, for his sanity, his will to go on with the good fight. But he knew he could no longer help Hercules. Whatever was coming, he belonged here, now.
So, settling against a rock, he again gazed skyward. Why was he here? Why hadn’t he gone to the underworld, to be judged by Hades? Although curious, he felt no fear at being here instead of in Hades’ realm. He somehow knew that he had always been destined to face judgment here. He felt that, somehow, his adventure was just beginning.
Hercules walked along the dusty road with the smaller, blond man who was keeping up. No small feat, considering the difference in their heights. It had been several months since Iolaus had died, and although he had come to care for the Jester and regard him as a friend, his heart still ached for the comfort of Iolaus by his side. Would the ache ever recede to a bearable throb or forever burn with furnace heat in his heart?
What had taken months on Earth had only been the blink of an eye while Iolaus waited. Time, as he had known it, did not exist here. It no longer mattered that he was alone, that he sat in blissful contemplation of clouds and what lay below, beyond the brown-red rocks. He felt no fear that this could be all there was. Somehow, in his heart, he knew if he waited, there would be more.
Finally, he saw a break in the clouds. A wonderful light filled the break, and soft, beckoning voices called to him.
“Come, Iolaus. Take my hand.”
Iolaus stood up and walked to the edge of the outcropping, reaching for the hand of the gossamer figure that hung suspended in the air just out of reach.
“Come, Iolaus. Have faith. The Light awaits.”
The Light. He was and always had been a servant of the Light.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward, off his rocky ledge. The outstretched fingers of the “angel” touched his hand and he floated forward, into a Light shining just behind him. His guide held his arm, more to comfort him than to guide him. Iolaus was a chosen one. His place in the Light would be a glorious one. He would be a Guardian, a warrior in the Light’s army of defenders.
Hercules stood before the monument in the meadow. He reached out to touch the face in the stone. He felt the broken amulet in his hand. Nebula had given it to him when she came to see Iolaus’ home. She had insisted Hercules have it. They were two halves of the same soul, she had said. Iolaus had his half of the amulet. It was only fitting for Hercules to have the other half.
The Jester stood silently to the side as Hercules placed the stone back in his belt pouch. He had made this trip home to bury his half of the amulet at Iolaus’ monument. But, as he looked upon the face of his best friend frozen in the stone, he knew he couldn’t, just as he knew he could never let Iolaus go. He would learn to live again, to love and laugh. But, never again, would he be whole. Half his soul had been torn asunder and was forever gone.
Iolaus stood before the throne, again waiting. But he was no longer alone. There were many souls in the large cave-like chamber, all in a protective ring around this latest arrival.
“I am Mycus. I am to be your guide.” It was the being who had coaxed him off the ledge and who still stood beside him.
“Hello. I’m Iolaus.”
“Yes,” Mycus smiled. “We all know who you are. You’re exploits are legendary here. We’ve awaited your coming for many eons.”
The throne suddenly blazed with a bright light and a feeling of a great life-force engulfed Iolaus. Iolaus turned to find Mycus gone, taking a place with the others in the circle.
“You must face judgment alone, Iolaus. Have faith in all things,” Mycus said, smiling.
Iolaus looked once again at the throne, where now a tall man sat, a sly smile on his lips. He was a powerfully built man but he had a gentleness about him. Iolaus was at once put at peace. He knew he had nothing to fear. The man stepped forward, leaving the throne to descend to be level with Iolaus.
“Welcome, Iolaus. The Light is greatly pleased with you. Your selfless act granted life to another. It is no less than we have come to expect.”
“I don’t understand. What about Dahak? What about all the misery I caused?”
The being only smiled, as if he were dealing with a wayward child.
“You strayed from your path. Mortal life offers many temptations, Iolaus. All mortals have regrets and hopes and dreams. You are a strong soul, Iolaus. You carried your regrets and hopes and dreams with you into death. Dahak fed on your needs. You strayed but, in the end, you found your way back to your true path. We are pleased. We expected nothing less.”
Iolaus felt peace, for now he knew he was truly home.
“Who are you?”
“I am Michael. I serve the Light as a Guardian. The time of the many gods is coming to a close, Iolaus. Hades has done an admirable job in his judgments, so, in the end, the souls in your underworld will be here. Even Ania and your son will come to us, eventually. But the Light has need of you now. You are a warrior, Iolaus. You know the need for vigilance. You know to guard against your enemies and you have a good perception of who those enemies are.”
Iolaus felt the hand of Mycus on his shoulder. The “angel” was now dressed in battle armor, his gossamer wings now dark and heavy.
“We need you, Iolaus, to serve as a Guardian. You’ve fought your whole life for the good, for the right. You can continue your battle with us.”
Iolaus smiled. He knew how proud Hercules would be, if he were here. He felt such joy now, for this was what his mortal life had been about. He could continue to fight the good fight, do what he was born to do.
“What about Hercules? Is he all right? Does he know?”
“Hercules lost his way for a time. He depended on you in ways that neither of you realized until you were gone. You were his strength, his compass, the one who kept his path true. But, slowly, he is finding his own path and, in time, he will learn to walk his path alone. He still grieves and always will, but he believes you to be at peace.”
“I am, Michael. I would be honored to be a Guardian.”
Hercules slept under the stars, his slumbering mind visiting Iolaus in his dreams. He took comfort in his dreams and the presence of his much beloved friend in them. He had, at first, fought sleep and the dreams that always came. The loss was too painful, having Iolaus at his side only in his dreams, unbearable.
But, slowly, as the reluctant acceptance of his loss began to become real to him, he came to look on his dreams as a beacon in the long night. They brought comfort and a feeling that, wherever he was, Iolaus was safe, at peace and still fighting the good fight.
He turned on his side as the Jester watched. The Jester often watched Hercules as he slept, saddened by the fact that it was the only time he seemed happy. The deep sadness in his eyes broke the Jester’s heart. The only time it wasn’t there to see was when Hercules slept. Covering Hercules with the extra blanket, the Jester lay down at last, sighing deeply. Tomorrow was another day. Perhaps it would be a little easier for them both.
Michael and Mycus watched as Iolaus patrolled his post at the edge of the rocky abyss. Iolaus had never asked what was down there but, with his warrior’s instincts, both Michael and Mycus didn’t doubt that he already knew.
“He will do well, when the time comes.”
Michael turned slightly and smiled.
“Yes, he will. He and Hercules will be the salvation of the mortal world. The Light chose well when he made Iolaus Hercules’ guide and guardian. The strength of their bond will transcend even the wall separating our world from the living one.”
Mycus looked back at the blond. He and Iolaus had already fought several battles at the abyss wall and Mycus had never seen a better warrior. He was proud to stand by his side in battle and friendship.
Michael watched as Mycus resumed his post beside Iolaus at the abyss. He knew the coming release of the Horsemen could spell the end of mankind. If humanity was to survive, it would take something extraordinary to do it. He hoped the Light’s belief that the bond between the warrior and the demigod was that something proved true.
finis
Melinda is not online at this time, but if you would like to give her feedback on this story, email it to me, Quiet Wolf, and I will pass it on to her.
Author Index
Home
The Iolausian Library