The Power of Love

Author’s note: This story answers the July 2004 challenge to use the following list: a golden apple, a screaming child, burned breakfast, a line, interpretive dance. I swear by the Styx I mean no copyright infringement on characters owned by Universal Studios. Comments always welcome.

The dimness was momentarily broken by a bright flash as Ares materialized in his temple, grumbling slightly to himself. His surveillance of Arcadia had revealed that trouble was brewing, but not as quickly as he would have liked. If things hadn’t escalated in a day or two, he was going to have to step in and provide a little encouragement. Normally he would have preferred to wait and see if everything would play out on it’s own, but the time table was working against him and if he wanted a full scale war to develop, things had to be put in motion, and soon. The god of war moved to the center of the room where a table held a lifelike replica of his Grecian playground. He studied his potential battlefield with a thoughtful frown, moving a few pawns between the Arcadian highlands and the Peloponnese. But then a muffled, yet unmistakable, flirtatious giggle echoed in his ears, breaking his concentration and making him realize he was not alone.

With a muttered curse the god of war strode across his temple, ripping open the door to his weapons room to reveal his sister in the passionate arms of a young, handsome mortal, who in the space of 3 seconds went from being ecstatically overwhelmed at his good fortune to quaking in terror when confronted with the angry, glowering god who was unleashing a verbal torrent of abuse at the both of them.

“Oh, chill out, Ares,” Aphrodite told him offhandedly, not at all disturbed by her brother’s outburst, much unlike her mortal friend.

“Chill out?” Ares sputtered. He gave his sister a look of disbelief before turning his smoldering eyes back to the scared mortal. Raising his hand, a lick of fire began to dance over his fingertips. “I ought to blast you straight down to Hades!”

“Please, don’t!” the man begged frantically. “I didn’t mean any harm! I just came here to bring you this!”

Ares hesitated, taking in the United Parchment Service emblem on the mortal’s tunic, as well as the scroll that he was waving wildly in front of him as if it could offer some sort of protection from an angry god of war’s wrath. Snatching the scroll from him, Ares read it over, some of his ire evaporating as his dark eyes scanned the welcome words.

“Get out of here,” he growled generously over his shoulder. But the mortal remained frozen, and Ares felt his anger growing once more. “Is there a problem?”

“No, Lord Ares,” the man stammered, internally debating which was more important - his job or his life. In the end, duty won out. “I just need a signature confirmation. Could I ... get you to sign here?”

“Sure,” the god began affably, his easy tone belying the murderous gleam in his eyes as the fire began to dance across his fingertips once more. “Of course, you won’t be around to see it.”

The mortal wisely decided there were other lines of work and tossed the waiting parchment and quill in the air as he took off, his feet scarcely touching the ground as he lit out of the temple faster than if he’d been wearing Hermes’ winged sandals. Aphrodite laughed gaily, a fact that only reminded her brother that she was still there, and he turned his disapproving scowl onto his little sister.

“I can’t believe you,” he reproached her scathingly. “Dallying with mortals has it’s place, I admit. But the UPS guy?”

“What can I say?” the goddess of love said casually as she adjusted the filmy material that just barely covered her. “Every girl loves a man in uniform.”

“You’re as bad as our father,” Ares muttered under his breath as he led the way out of the weapons room and draped himself across his throne, knowing that she would take his criticism as a compliment. But like all beings, mortal and immortal both, he couldn’t stay mad at the beautiful and undeniably charming goddess of love for very long and his irritation with his vivacious little sister quickly faded. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I brought a message for you from Athena,” Aphrodite replied as she followed him, perching herself delicately on the arm of his throne beside him.

“And just what bitch does Her Highness have up her sleeve this time?”

“She found out you’ve been snooping around Athens, and she says you’d better not even think about stirring up trouble in her city.”

“Or what?” Ares sneered.

“Or else she’ll...” Aphrodite hesitated, then reached into her ample cleavage and pulled out a scrap of parchment to refresh her memory. “Expeditiously suffuse your obtuse cranium into the unplumbed colliery of your...”

“All right, I get it,” Ares interrupted, leaning forward to grab the parchment from her hands. Shaking his head, he crumpled it up in his fist and disposed of it with a small flash and a tiny wisp of smoke. “She doesn’t have to worry. Athens just hit bottom on my priority list. So go back and tell old Owl Eyes that I have zero interest in her precious city.”

“This change of heart wouldn’t have anything to do with what the delivery stud brought you, would it?”

“Maybe.”

“What was it? Come on, Ares,” Aphrodite whined, pouting prettily. “You can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

“It was a receipt.”

“For what?”

“A karkadaan.”

“And that would be...?”

“The most fearsome, violent, ferocious animal Persia has to offer. A beast truly befitting the god of war.” Ares smiled dreamily, his eyes getting a far away look as he envisioned how the creature would lead to the fruition of his plans. A slight wave of his hand opened a scrying window, and the goddess gasped as she got her first glimpse of the karkadaan. It was of monstrous size, with a thick gray hide and trunklike legs that ended in yellow hooves. The tail resembled that of a lion and it had a shaggy mane, but the head and ears were more horse like. A black crescent horn spouted from the animal’s forehead, ending in a sharp point. But as bizarre as it looked, there was nothing comical about the beast. Its entire body quivered with aggression as it snorted its anger, and its eyes were wild with a frenzied bloodlust.

“It’s hideous,” Aphrodite declared, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“Isn’t it?” the god of war agreed lovingly. “But the best part is that it’s unstoppable. I had it delivered to the forest of Argos, which just happens to stand between Corinth and Arcadia. And coincidentally, Hercules and his little buddy just happen to be on their way to Arcadia, to try and prevent a war before it starts. Call me an optimist, but somehow I don’t think they’re going to make it.”

“Again with Hercules?” the goddess groaned. “What is your obsession with trying to kill him?”

“What is your obsession with defending him?” Ares snapped.

“Well, he is the subject of about a fourth of the petitions I get,” she told him. “And Sweetcheeks is responsible for half. There would be a lot of broken hearts out there if anything happened to them.”

“This isn’t a joke, little sister.”

“I’m not kidding, big brother” Aphrodite retorted, growing serious. “Look, Ares, Hercules is ok. His friend, too. Can’t you just lighten up on them a little?”

“Why do you care?” the god demanded. “I seem to recall the two of them putting a crimp in your plans not so long ago.”

“That doesn’t mean I want them dead,” she protested. “Hercules has his uses. And Sweetcheeks is... interesting. To watch, you know. But neither of them are going to stand a chance against that Persian thing. You have to even it up a little.”

“No, I don’t,” Ares argued. “I admire your... enthusiasm, sis. But you’re getting involved in something you know nothing about. You don’t know what it’s like to be a real god, with real power, and real responsibilities....”

“Hey, I have just as much power as you do!” Aphrodite interrupted angrily, jumping to her feet and placing her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, right,” the god laughed mockingly. “I’ve seen your talents, and trust me, you’re only good for one thing. Look, why don’t you do us both a favor and go back to Olympus and do your nails, ok? I have work to do.”

He vanished, leaving the goddess alone in his temple, fuming at his words. Ares had unwittingly hit a sore spot with his verbal taunting, and Aphrodite was not about to let his derision go unchallenged. True, she had a reputation for being frivolous and vapid, which often led to people underestimating her. But she could be just as manipulative and calculating and underhanded as any of the other gods, and at that moment she swore that she would not rest until her dear brother was made to eat his words and admit that her power equaled his. But how to do it? Aphrodite sat down in the vacated throne, chin in hand as she studiously considered her options. But then an idea struck her and she sprang up with a triumphant smirk. Unlike Ares, she was able to learn from her past defeats, and after all, a clever idea was a clever idea no matter whose it was. With an excited squeal, the goddess of love vanished in a shower of golden sparkles, because she, too, had work to do.

“Hercules, how long is this going to go on?”

“What?”

“This,” Iolaus declared, waving a vague hand in the air. “Muttering under your breath and giving me these nasty looks. If you’re going to be this grouchy the rest of the way, tell me now so I can take a different road.”

“There is no other road,” the demigod reminded him.

“Then I’ll give you a head start,” the hunter insisted. “Being alone would be more fun than this.”

“I guess I just find it hard to be pleasant on an empty stomach.”

“I told you ten times I was sorry,” Iolaus protested adamantly.

“That’s easy for you to say. Your breakfast wasn’t burned.”

“I offered to share.”

“Yeah, knowing I hate leftover rabbit,” Hercules pointed out. “All you had to do was keep an eye on those quail eggs for five minutes. What was so difficult about that?”

“A damsel in distress came by. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Iolaus, she was a shepherdess looking for a lost lamb.”

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t offer my assistance.”

“Insist upon it, more likely. What is it with you and women, anyway?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask that, Herc. You ARE a guy, aren’t you?”

“Last time I checked,” the demigod said wryly. “But I don’t feel the compulsion to go diving after anything in a skirt.”

“Can’t let opportunity pass you by,” Iolaus lectured him. “Every girl has the potential to be the one.”

“The one that says ‘yes’ for a change?” Hercules teased.

“Oh, very funny. Come on now, how long are you going to hold this against me?”

“Well, at least until lunch,” the demigod grinned, slinging a companionable arm around his partner’s shoulders. He hadn’t really been upset, but as the hunter said, you couldn’t let opportunity pass you by. And he couldn’t miss the chance to give his friend back a little of the aggravation with which Iolaus was so fond of gifting him.

“Yeah,” the hunter snorted, shoving his friend away. “Why do I get the feeling that my half is going to be burnt?”

The two warriors suddenly halted, their good natured joking giving way to a deadly seriousness as they glanced at each other and engaged in a silent communication. Trouble was upon them, and they both knew it. Hercules could feel it with his divine sixth sense, which often let him know when danger was near. Iolaus had no such godly warning device, but his hunter’s instinct was often just as good. The forest had gone silent, nature muted and stilled with a collective fear. Glancing around, he took in the battered brush and the scuff marks in the detritus of the forest floor. Something large had come this way, and not too long ago.

A heavy snort, followed by a loud, grating bray announced the arrival of their ominous yet unseen threat. The two heroes were stunned as the mammoth creature came barreling through the trees, but their shock lasted only an instant. They dove out of the way and rolled, each leaping up and assuming a battle stance. But it didn’t take long to realize that the usual tricks weren’t going to work with this one. There was no hesitation in the colossal beast as it moved with an agility that belied its size. No pause as it came at them again and again, stamping, snarling, charging, biting and doing its best to gore them with its deadly horn. With blood curdling bellows it attacked in a frenzy, with no thought to its own preservation. Its single minded purpose was slaughter, and it wasn’t going to stop until both were dead.

“We need a plan,” Hercules shouted. All their efforts were concentrated on just fending off the beast, and they weren’t going to last much longer unless they could go on the offensive.

“Yeah, that would be good,” Iolaus agreed, diving out of the way as the creature charged again. The animal chose to pursue him, whirling and advancing with impressive coordination and a speed that outmatched that of the hunter. Iolaus just narrowly managed to avoid the horn, but the beast caught him with the side of its head, sending him flying into a nearby tree. For a moment he was dazed, but he pulled himself upright and leaned against the tree trunk, shaking his head to clear it. And immediately wishing he hadn’t, for his vision drifted back into focus to reveal the creature bearing down on him, head down and the deadly curved horn positioned perfectly to spear him through.

Ares was dumbfounded. He’d been from one end of the village to the other, and it was the same story everywhere he looked. People milling in the streets, smiling, laughing, hugging and kissing. It made the god of war sick to his stomach.

“What is going on here?” he demanded, although he didn’t expect an answer since he kept himself hidden from their mortal eyes. “What’s gotten into you people? You’re supposed to be drilling for war! Not singing and... and dancing! What is the meaning of this?” Ares spun in a helpless circle, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening. “What is that? Are those flowers?!” His dark eyes widened as he saw what had previously been one of his most ruthless generals prancing down the street and placing flowered garlands around the necks of all that crossed his path. The god of war was struck speechless with angry indignation, but then he grimaced and clapped a hand against his side. “Damn it to Hades! There goes the ulcer.”

“Iolaus! Are you all right?”

“Um, I think so,” the hunter replied. Very cautiously he reached out and patted the muzzle of the beast. When he kept his hand, he dared to gently push the animal’s head back so he could squirm away from the tree trunk and escape the lapping tongue that was giving his face a thorough cleaning. The creature didn’t protest, watching him adoringly as he moved to his partner’s side. “What in all of Tartarus just happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Hercules murmured thoughtfully, studying the beast with narrowed eyes. In the blink of an eye, it had gone from a rabid, murderous creature to something... tame. Evident by the way it snuffled slightly and stepped forward, nudging the hunter’s hand with its nose, inviting him to pet its shaggy mane. “But I think it likes you.”

“APHRODITE!”

All of Olympus shook with the mighty god of war’s enraged bellow. The lesser deities scrambled to get out of his way as he strode angrily through the great hall, while the rest perked up with interest. Ares’ temper was often fun to watch, provided it was directed at somebody else. But the show was cut short as he barged into his sister’s chambers and slammed the door behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” the goddess of love purred silkily from her nest of bubbles.

“Get out of there!” Ares thundered. Part of what made Aphrodite so infuriating was that she wasn’t afraid of him. Even Zeus knew to tread with caution when he was at his worst, but his little sister considered him about as much threat as a ladybug. She always had, and it drove him crazy. “You’ve got some explaining to do!”

With a delicate shrug, the goddess rose up from her bath, deliberately trying to embarrass him. But Ares was far too furious for modesty and didn’t even give her the satisfaction of averting his eyes.

“So what’s up?” she asked, wrapping a pink towel around her voluptuous body.

“My blood pressure, for one,” the god of war snapped, quivering as he struggled to hold onto his last bit of self control. “And do you know why? The Peloponnese and Arcadian provinces have just signed a peace agreement! Two kings that were ready to rip each other’s throats out yesterday are advocating ‘make love, not war’ today!”

“What makes you think I had anything to do with it?” the goddess asked innocently.

“Because I found this under their negotiation table!” Ares roared, holding up one of her trademark golden apples.

“All right,” Aphrodite conceded with a sly grin. “I may have taken a passing interest in what was going down.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” he insisted. “You’re interfering in my work, and I’ll have you before Zeus!”

“Fine,” she said airily. “Go ahead and tell Daddy on me. But I don’t think he’ll believe you. I’m powerless. Only good for one thing, remember? How could I possibly interfere with the big, bad god of war?”

“Whatever you did to those people, undo it now!” Ares ordered.

“Sure thing, bro. Right after you admit that I have just as much power as you do.”

The god of war tried to stare her down, but she held his gaze, her eyes flashing and her chin tilted up defiantly.

“Forget it,” he growled. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

He dashed her golden apple to the ground where it bounced and rolled off into the corner. Aphrodite retrieved it, running her hand over the shining orb to smooth out the dent as she called out gaily after her brother.

“Remember, Ares, if you’re going to Arcadia, be sure to wear flowers in your hair!”

“Herc, what are we going to do?” Iolaus wailed.

“I don’t know,” the demigod grinned, finding much more amusement in the situation than his partner was. “But we can’t waste any more time here. I’ve got to get to Arcadia and stop that war.”

“You mean ‘we’, don’t you?” the hunter corrected.

“In this case, three’s a crowd,” Hercules told him. “Look, this thing isn’t letting you out of it’s sight. And we can’t have it following us into villages. There would be mass panic, and we don’t know for sure that it won’t start rampaging again.”

“What are you saying? You want to go on alone and leave me here?”

“I don’t see that we have much choice,” the demigod said gently.

“You’re right,” Iolaus agreed grudgingly after a long pause. Time was running out, and if there was a chance to stop a senseless war and save hundreds of lives, then he knew his partner had to take it. Even if it meant going without him.

“I’ll go on ahead,” Hercules decided. “If you can convince your new bodyguard to stay behind, you can catch up to me. Otherwise I’ll meet you back here when I get things settled down in Arcadia and we can figure out something then.”

“Good luck,” the hunter told him, extending a hand.

“You, too,” the demigod said as they exchanged a warrior’s shake. But Hercules quickly let go and took a step back from his friend as the beast at his side barred his teeth and snarled softly in warning. “Be careful, Iolaus. Don’t turn your back on that thing.”

With a heavy heart, Iolaus watched his partner go off without him, and it wasn’t long before the demigod was swallowed up by the trees. The hunter sighed and turned to look at the animal sitting on the ground beside him, wondering where it had come from, why it had suddenly become so enamored of him, and naturally, what it was. If he hadn’t seen it up close and personally, he never would have believed the creature capable of murderous rampage, for it was currently calm and content, nuzzling his curls affectionately and gazing at him with what he could swear was love. It was indeed another strange chapter in the mysteries of life, but not one to ponder on an empty stomach. Gazing up at the sky, Iolaus searched for the sun through the forest canopy to gauge how much daylight was left. He was going to have to set up camp and try to catch some dinner, but there was still plenty of time. The hunter took out his knife and began cutting long, thin, green branches to make snares, and the karkadaan watched him with interest.

“So,” he began companionably, glancing at the animal as he stripped bark. “Do you like rabbit?”

“Well?” Ares demanded as Strife appeared before him in his temple. “Is it done?”

“Sort of,” the godling hedged.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re all lining up for War,” Strife told him, moving casually out of arm’s reach.

“Good,” Ares smirked, opening a scrying window. Only to observe a general, two sergeants, and a captain of the guards writhing and swaying across a wooden platform.

“The new interpretive dance,” Strife confessed, ducking quickly behind a statue. When the expected fireball did not come hurtling his way, he carefully peaked out to see his uncle wearing a look of pain and stirring a hefty dose of anthemis oil into a mug of nectar. “The ulcer again?” Ares didn’t answer, apart from taking a swig from his cup, and Strife carefully came forward. “I tried, Unc. Really. I’ve been working on them all day, but it’s like they’re all brainwashed. It’s a total love fest down there.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ares sighed, much to the godling’s astonishment, for everything was always his fault. “I never should have sent a boy to do a man’s job.”

“I’m telling you, Unc, it’s hopeless. You should just write this one off. There’s no fight left in these people. They aren’t even swatting flies.”

“I can’t give up now,” the god of war argued. “That would mean that Aphrodite wins! I can NOT let that happen. Love beating war - it’s preposterous! I’d be the laughingstock of Olympus and I’d have to spend the rest of my immortal life trying to live it down. No, there has to be something that...” He paused as he took a good look at his nephew, then lunged forward and grabbed the flower petal that was caught in the studs of his shirt. “What is this?”

“Oh, how’d that get there?” Strife stammered.

“I can only imagine,” Ares growled, taking his arm in a vice like grip and giving him a small shake. “Working on them all day, huh?”

“I was, I swear,” the godling vowed. “But you know, with all that free love going around...”

“Spare me the details.” The god of war released his nephew and began to pace around his temple as he thought. “All right. If they won’t fight each other, then I’ll just have to bring in outside forces from Phasis. They can stand together in their unity, or get slaughtered together. Either way, war is coming to the Arcadian highlands, and Aphrodite is powerless to stop it. A lot of good free love is going to do those mortals when they’re dead.”

Strife giggled along as his uncle laughed evilly, but when Ares disappeared, he did not follow. It was obvious Arcadia’s days were numbered, which meant the days of free love were numbered, too, and the godling had every intention of taking full advantage of the Arcadian hospitality while it still existed.

Iolaus sighed heavily, feeling very sorry for himself indeed. He’d started out brooding, which turned into sulking, which quickly became pouting, which was rapidly progressing toward stewing. The one thing he hated above all else was to be left behind. He should have been with Hercules, doing his part to help stop a war, and barring that, watching his partner’s back. But there he was, stuck doing nothing in the middle of the forest, all because some bipolar monster had taken a liking to him. He’d tried to be a good sport about it, but enough was enough and it was time to reclaim his independence. Somehow. The creature was obviously intelligent, but doubtfully to the point where it would respond to verbal reason and logic. Yet the hunter felt obliged to try, for the waiting was driving him nuts. He got to his feet and the beast immediately followed suit, unwilling to let him out of its sight for a second.

“Look,” Iolaus began imploringly. “I’m flattered by the attention here, but this has to stop. I’ve got places to go and things to do, and you can’t come with me. Understand?”

The animal merely gazed fondly at him, and the hunter’s frustration began to grow.

“It’s time for you to go back where you came from now. So just go on home. Go on. Scat!”

The beast dropped its head to nibble at an inch on its leg, and Iolaus began to lose his temper.

“Go on, get out of here!”

The shout got the creature’s attention, and it looked up in surprise, with an air of uncertainty.

“You heard me. Get out of here. Now! Go!” And he slapped the animal’s flank for emphasis. It was definitely not enough to cause pain to the thick-skinned beast, but the large eyes definitely reflected hurt. The karkadaan took two steps away, then turned back to look at him.

“Go!” the hunter ordered forcefully, although a big wave of guilt washed over him as the creature slowly began heading for the trees, its head drooping in abject sorrow. The night quickly swallowed up the massive beast, although Iolaus could hear it moving off long after he lost sight.

He sighed again as he sat back down next to his cheery fire. It was what he wanted, but he didn’t feel good about it. Picking up a long stick, he began jabbing at the burning logs, telling himself that he was being ridiculous. There was work to be done and lives to save, and no time to waste worrying about the feelings of some strange monster that had previously tried to kill him. But Iolaus couldn’t help feeling bad, for he didn’t like to hurt anyone, or anything. Tossing his stick down, he decided to try and forget about it and get some sleep. He needed to set out at first light so that he could catch up to Hercules, and hopefully he wouldn’t be too late.

It was late, but the village was not completely quiet. Many people had finally retired to their homes, but several were sleeping out in the street, cuddled in exhausted, yet happy groups. Still more were awake, celebrating in the newfound love they had for their “brothers and sisters”. A few lyres were being strummed to accompany the singalongs, several groups were debating the true nature of love, and a few other souls were just wandering in a dazed bliss, restless with the joy of loving life.

Hercules hung back, watching everything from the shadows. Needless to say, he’d been shocked when he’d arrived in Arcadia to find war the last thing on everyone’s mind. But it was not much of a relief, for it was obvious that the people were under some sort of godly influence. Aphrodite’s, judging from their amorous behavior. And how they got there from war, which was Ares’ domain, he couldn’t even begin to guess. But he had a bad feeling that something was brewing between his half-siblings, and that the unsuspecting villagers were fated to bear the brunt of the fallout. So the demigod decided to remain in Arcadia, keeping a low profile while he kept an eye on the situation and vowing to do everything in his power to counteract whatever havoc his divine relations were intending to release.

Iolaus had just drifted off when a loud snapping jolted him awake. He sat up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he listened carefully to the silence all around him. Another twig popped and he climbed to his feet, his guilty conscience taking a back seat to his annoyance.

“All right, I know you’re there,” he called out to the creature. “It’s no use trying to hide.” There were no more sounds, and the hunter felt his temper rise. “I’m not playing this game with you,” he shouted. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and go back to where you came from. Believe me, you do NOT want to test me!”

Iolaus wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. All he knew was that he was suddenly lying on his back in a fair amount of pain. And as he raised a trembling hand up to explore the arrow shaft sticking out of his flesh, he realized his nocturnal visitor had not been the friendly monster after all, although he found himself wishing that it had.

“We’ve got a problem, Unc,” Strife announced as he materialized before the god of war, clinging to the hope that he would be praised for relaying valuable information instead of being punished simply for being the bearer of bad news. “I just came from Arcadia...”

“Haven’t you had enough free love for one day?” Ares muttered, although in the back of his mind he had to acknowledge there was something to be said for the stamina of youth.

“I was doing it for you,” the godling protested. “I thought you’d want someone there to monitor the situation. I was just keeping an eye out, really.”

“I doubt very much that was all you had out,” the god of war drawled. “But what’s this problem that’s so important you had to leave your ‘surveillance’?”

“Hercules is there.” Strife braced himself for the flash of temper, but his uncle looked more thoughtful than angry.

“I know he’s not there for the free love. Was his little friend with him?”

“I didn’t see him.”

“Perhaps he was off keeping his own eye out.”

“I don’t think so, Unc,” the godling disagreed. “I gave that village a thorough inspection, if you know what I mean.”

“So, Hercules made it past my karkadaan,” Ares mused. “But it would appear that his little lapdog did not.”

“Who cares?” Strife argued. “As long as Hercules is in Arcadia, there’s a good chance this whole plan will fall apart. I know those mercenaries of yours are good, but there hasn’t been an army yet that can defeat him.”

“You worry too much, nephew,” the god of war told him. “It’s not good for the stomach lining, trust me. We have the edge here.”

“What edge?”

“Hercules’ weakness is his love for his mortal friend. If he is dead, then my dear brother will be overcome with grief, leaving him ripe for the slaughter.” Ares reached out, grabbing his nephew in an affectionate headlock that more closely resembled a choke hold. “Life is good, Strife. Today war comes to the Aracadian highlands. Today will be Hercules’ last. And today I finally prove once and for all that I’m the most powerful god on Olympus. You know, as much as I’d love a front row seat for this, I think we should view this battle from up above with my dear little sister. I want to be there to gloat when war conquers love.”

The god of war vanished, taking his struggling, squeaking nephew along with him.

Iolaus was happy in the realm of peaceful oblivion. It was dark and quiet and there was no pain. Unlike in the waking world, so he didn’t have much desire to return there. However, someone was being rather insistent, bumping and nudging and... licking? With a loud groan the hunter gave in and let himself be led back to consciousness, opening his eyes and struggling to focus on the deadly curved horn that was inches from his face, gleaming blackly in the first rays of the dawn, and stained with blood.

It took awhile, for his head was throbbing mercilessly and he was overcome with nausea and dizziness. But eventually he was able to sit up against a tree and take stock of the situation and try to remember what happened. The arrow in his shoulder hurt, but the pain was rather insignificant compared to the agony in his head. He grabbed the shaft and gave it a yank, and the arrow slid out almost easily. It was not a serious wound for someone with his injury experience. The shot had been high up and off center, and Iolaus had quickly realized the dark night had saved his life, for when his two attackers came for him it was immediately obvious they were no amateurs. He fought them off one handed, his sword whirling to clash with first one, then the other. They were good, but so was he, even with an arrow in the shoulder, and when he managed to disarm one he actually began to think he stood a chance. That thought was short lived, however, as he turned to focus on the one that still had the sword, not seeing the second one picking up the rock until it was too late.

Somehow Iolaus managed to get to his feet, with the help of the tree and his new friend, who didn’t seem to mind its mane being pulled a bit. Through blurry eyes he saw that the campsite was littered with the remains of his two attackers, who had been slashed and trampled to ribbons.

“Thanks for coming back,” he whispered into the beast’s ear. The carnage was not helping the rolling in his gut, but he was well aware that it would have been him lying there dead if the creature had not returned when it had. Suddenly, the hunter’s stomach lurched, but it was not from the bloodshed or his head injury. One of the men’s headbands had fallen off and was lying on the ground at his feet. In the new light of day, Iolaus could clearly see the insignia stitched upon it. Upon the dark red cloth was a golden chi, with a sword making up the straight edge of the letter. It was then he knew he hadn’t been attacked by any garden variety thugs or bandits. Those men were Phasian mercenaries. Fierce, brutal, unstoppable soulless warriors who would sell out to the highest dinar, although Ares was their ultimate master. They didn’t travel in pairs, so the two before him had most likely been scouts. Which meant a lot more were on the way, heading in the direction of Arcadia. And if they got there unchecked, soon there wouldn’t be an Arcadia. An urgent panic flooded the hunter, and he knew he had to find Hercules and warn him. There was no time to lose.

Iolaus hurriedly wrapped up his shoulder wound with some bandages he pulled out of his pack before haphazardly rolling up his bedroll and cramming it in with the rest of his meager belongings and retrieving his fallen sword. The fire was already out, so he took his leave of the campsite, but he had only gone a few steps into the woods when his shaking legs gave out and he sunk to his knees. Muttering a curse, the hunter closed his eyes, summoning up his strength reserves and willing the dizziness to go away. When he regained control, he opened his eyes and looked at the karkadaan, who was hovering closely beside him.

“I’m sorry for chasing you off before,” he murmured, patting the beast’s hide gently. “And thanks for bailing me out back there. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I could really use your help. I have to get to Arcadia and fast, or else my buddy’s going to be ambushed by some real monsters.”

The animal turned and nuzzled him gently with it’s nose before swiping his face with its tongue.

“All right, I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” the hunter said good naturedly, wiping his face with his hand. “Let’s go.”

Leaning heavily on his new partner, Iolaus got to his feet and resumed his journey. Again, he didn’t get far before the dizziness claimed him and only his grip on the shaggy mane kept him from falling. He cursed again in frustration, and after a moment the karkadaan knelt down on all fours. Hoping he wasn’t misreading the offer, the hunter carefully climbed up onto the wide back, realizing that the creature was far more intelligent than he’d thought. Once he was on, the animal sprang up and began trotting off through the woods, automatically heading for Arcadia. Iolaus moaned painfully, and the understanding beast adjusted its pace to a smoother walk. It was slower, but much less jarring to his throbbing head, and Iolaus eased himself down until he was resting against the strong neck and shoulders, cushioned by the thick mane as the sweet oblivion claimed him once more.

Hercules was starting to lose his normally unshakable patience. At first he’d been somewhat amused by the amorous antics of the village, and he couldn’t deny that it was nice to be immersed in a crowd of people that only wanted to get along and celebrate each other for a change. He almost wished that they could hold on to that mindset forever, for a village with no arguments or malcontents or hatred or fights was a utopia, indeed. But the demigod knew that it was the result of a spell, and he couldn’t condone it. No matter what conflicts would arise, the Arcadians deserved to live their lives with their free will intact. Besides, they were all so busy loving each other, nothing else was getting done. Chores were neglected, fields were left untended, and nothing was being produced or manufactured. Love was a wonderful thing, but a village couldn’t survive on it alone.

The demigod wasn’t sure what to do to solve this problem, but that wasn’t his first priority. Although he had no idea what motivation lay behind the spell, he was positive that Aphrodite was behind it, and he was equally positive that Ares, who had designated the area for one of his pointless wars, would not approve of her interference. Which meant that the god of war was likely to strike hard in retribution, not caring if a whole village was sacrificed to his infantile tantrums.

These thoughts definitely had Hercules on edge. He knew something was coming, but he just didn’t know what or when. Anxiously, he paced the village, stopping frequently to stare pensively out at the horizon. Something was out there. His divine sense of warning was so strong he was practically jumping out of his skin with anticipation. But until the danger revealed itself, all he could do was wait and hope that he was prepared to deal with it, especially since he was lacking the comforting presence of his partner at his back.

He had just turned to make another lap around the perimeter of the village when a terrified shriek pierced the peaceful morning. People seemed distinctly unsettled by the sound, but at a loss over what to do when the screaming child came barreling down the hill into town. The little boy was scared out of his wits, sobbing uncontrollably and virtually incomprehensible, and the task fell to Hercules to calm the tyke down, which he did with a few reassuring pats and a bit of honey cake. Finally the boy was able to relate that he was from the next valley, on his way to the Arcadian market for his mother, and he had run into a monster as big as Mt. Olympus, which attacked him. He bravely fought back, just narrowly escaping with his life, and he pointed out his battle injury as proof. The demigod suppressed a grin as he examined the slight scrape on the child’s knee, offering him another piece of honey cake and asking for clarification as to the monster’s whereabouts. Assuming it had survived the encounter with such a fine warrior, that is.

“It was right up there on top of the hill,” the boy told him, his bravado slipping as a thought struck him. “It won’t come down here in the village, will it?”

“Don’t worry,” Hercules promised, ruffling the kid’s hair. “There hasn’t been a monster yet that can get past me.”

After making sure that the boy would be looked after, the demigod left the village and began striding purposefully up the hill. He wasn’t sure if he believe the wild claims, speculating that the child had been frightened by a bear or a wolf or had simply let his imagination get the best of him. There were few monsters that would let such easy prey pass by. But it was worth checking out, especially since his divine warning sense was all up in arms.

As he crested the hill, Hercules was not completely surprised to see the creature that had taken such a shine to his partner. He’d half expected that his restless friend would grow tired of waiting and show up with his new pet in tow, desperate not to miss the action. But the demigod’s greeting died in his throat as he took a step closer and realized that Iolaus was limp and unmoving on the animal’s back. He started to rush forward, but halted in his tracks as the karkadaan snarled at him menacingly.

“These trust issues of yours are getting old,” Hercules said in exasperation. He took two more steps and the creature snorted its threat, tossing its head to call attention to its deadly horn, and the demigod was forced to change tactics. “All right,” he murmured softly, raising both hands slightly in a placating gesture. “I’m not going to hurt him. I’m not going to hurt either of you. But he needs help. You brought him this far, now you have to let me have him. I promise I’ll take care of him.” The karkadaan eyed him suspiciously, but it offered no further objections as Hercules inched closer until he was near enough to reach out and touch his partner.

The hunter bolted up as soon as he felt hands on him, his blue eyes darting around frantically as he tried to assess the situation, one hand gripping the animal’s mane in an attempt to restore his balance and the other hand going for his sword.

“Iolaus, take it easy,” the demigod reassured him. “It’s just me.”

“Herc?” The hunter focused on his partner with a sigh of relief and relaxed, running a hand through his hair as he spared another glance around. “Where are we?”

“Arcadia,” Hercules told him. “The village is just down the hill there. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Iolaus murmured, wondering how on earth the animal had known how to get to Arcadia. “Just give me a hand.”

The hunter slid down from the creature’s back, more or less steadily with his friend assisting his descent. His head was still throbbing painfully, but the nausea and dizziness appeared to be gone and he thankfully could stand on his own, which was a blessing as his partner was already giving him ‘the look’. The one that told him there was a good chance he’d be left behind again because Hercules could see he’d been hurt and wouldn’t think it was a good idea for him to be diving back into battle again so soon. Which meant Iolaus would have to convince him otherwise, for considering what they were about to be up against, the demigod would need all the help he could get. And convincing him was always much easier if he wasn’t clinging to his arm in an attempt to hold himself upright.

“What happened?”

“Big trouble,” Iolaus replied.

“I can see that,” Hercules said dryly, taking in the bandages peaking out from under his friend’s vest. He reached out and gently probed the large lump on the hunter’s head, noting the spots of dried blood in the golden curls. Predictably, Iolaus shoved his hand away in irritation. The demigod grinned, willing to back off for the moment. He looped a gentle arm around his partner’s shoulders, glancing quickly at the karkadaan to make sure the gesture was allowed. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere safe to stash your friend here, and then you can tell me about it while I have a look at you.”

A shadow fell over the hunter, and though he didn’t outwardly acknowledge it, he knew exactly who was blocking his early afternoon rays.

“What are you doing?”

The question was spoken by both warriors at the exact same moment. Iolaus opened his eyes, gazing up at his friend with a look of pure innocence. Hercules was backlit by the sun and his features were hidden in shadow, but just as he had known what his partner would say, the hunter also knew he was now being frowned at, so he gave the demigod his most irresistible grin.

“What? You told me to take it easy for awhile, remember?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d listen. I need to talk to you.”

A bit regretfully, Iolaus got up and heartily thanked his companion for her kind ministrations. She smiled sweetly at the handsome, charming stranger and gave him a quick kiss, telling him that she loved him. The hunter enthusiastically reciprocated, for although he hadn’t been in Arcadia long, he had already learned that these people loved everyone, and declarations of love were often more spiritual than amorous and he shouldn’t take it personally. Although there seemed to be a lot of the amorous love floating around too, which was a phenomena that he was interested in exploring once they’d done their hero bit and saved the day.

“How’s your head?” Hercules asked him as they strolled away from the love commune where they could speak privately.

“Fine,” Iolaus replied, mostly telling the truth. For after a couple hours lying in the lovely young woman’s lap, being plied with cool cloths and parthenion tea and feeling her talented fingers work their magic as she massaged his temples, his throbbing headache had receded to a mild thud.

“And the shoulder?”

“Fine.” The hunter glanced at his friend, meeting his reproachful gaze. “Look, Herc, my shoulder’s sore but I’ve got full range of motion and I can handle my sword. My head’s clear and I’m not dizzy or out of focus at all. I know what we’re up against, and I know I could get us both killed if I try to pretend I’m all right when I’m not. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I’m ok, I swear.”

“We need to start getting ready,” the demigod told him, taking him at his word with no further argument. “If you’re right and those two men were scouts for a larger army, then the rest of them won’t be more than a day behind. Which means they’ll be here by nightfall.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, we’ve got geography in our favor,” Hercules sighed, striving for optimism. “They can’t surround us, so they’re going to have to make a frontal assault. I checked around and there are some caves not far from here to the west. Gather up the women and children and take them there, with as much food as they can carry.”

“Maybe we should just evacuate the whole village,” Iolaus suggested quietly. “The men don’t seem inclined to put up much of a fight. We could be leaving them here to be slaughtered.”

“We don’t have a choice,” the demigod said, sighing again. “We’re good, but we can’t defeat an army of Phasian warriors by ourselves. We’re just going to have to try and give these men something to fight for.”

The hunter nodded, mulling over his friend’s words as he pivoted around and headed back to the villagers, but his thoughts quickly turned to how he was going to convince all the women and children to evacuate away from the men that they loved. Obviously the situation called for a little creative embellishment, which was no doubt why the chore had fallen to him. Hercules had many divine gifts, but the art of obfuscation was not one of them.

Hercules watched gravely as the troops of Phasians formed rank. There were even more than he had feared, and their lines covered the entire hillside. Obviously they weren’t worried about letting their presence be known, but then again, the legendary mercenaries didn’t need the element of surprise. Things were dire, at best, but the demigod began to breathe a little easier as his partner slid into place at his side.

“I didn’t miss anything, did I?” the hunter panted.

“I’d say you’re just in time.” Hercules nodded toward the enemy throngs, then glanced back at his friend. “Did you get everyone out?”

“Yeah, but you won’t believe what I had to tell them to get them to go.”

“Probably not, but you’ll have to tell me later.”

One lone warrior had broken ranks and marched forward, halting at the midpoint between the two sides. He appeared to be waiting, so the demigod exchanged a silent communication with his friend and then went out to meet him.

“What do you want?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Hercules,” the captain replied in a voice colder than ice. “We hereby declare war on the Arcadian highlands. We accept no bribe or surrender, and we show no mercy. Make your stand or flee, but Arcadia will be razed to the ground and death will suffer all.”

“But why?” the demigod demanded angrily. “What fight do you have with these people?”

“None,” the captain told him. “But Lord Ares commanded it and his will must be served.”

“Nothing like a noble reason,” Hercules muttered sarcastically.

From the village ranks, Iolaus watched his partner carefully. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was a safe bet that the demigod was not successfully talking the army out of their planned rampage. In desperation, the hunter turned to the men crowded in curiosity behind him.

“There’s no more time,” he addressed them. “These warriors have come to kill you. You have to make a stand against them.”

“But we have no quarrel with these men,” a lanky farmer pointed out.

“That doesn’t matter,” Iolaus shouted, grabbing the man by his tunic and shaking him slightly in an effort to wake him up. “They have a quarrel with you. If you don’t stand up and defend yourselves, you are all going to die. And once you’re dead, they’ll go after your families.” The hunter paced before the crowd, imploring them. “Think of your wives. Your sons and your daughters. I know you all want peace, but you have to fight to save your families. You’re the only chance they have. You have to fight to protect them, or they’ll all be killed, too.”

It wasn’t the cry of victory he’d been hoping for, but the men began murmuring with each other and the hunter took it as a sign of encouragement. He left them and trotted out to meet Hercules, who was returning from his conference on the mound.

“Well?”

“They’ve officially declared war,” the demigod relayed in disgust. “What’s going on with them?”

“I don’t know,” Iolaus replied, shaking his head slightly. “I think I’m starting to chip through the love daze, but whether or not any of these guys can pick up a weapon and use it still remains to be seen.”

“I think you were right,” Hercules told his friend. “We should have sent them all to the caves. Even if they are willing to fight, we’re still just leading them to slaughter. A handful of farmers and tradesmen against an army of killers...”

“You worry too much, buddy,” the hunter said with sudden cheerfulness. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer. We have the edge here.”

“What edge?” the demigod demanded. His irrepressible partner had never relied on his godly strength before, and it seemed unlikely that he’d start now. But Hercules could see no other advantage before them. In answer, Iolaus put two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle, just as the ranks of warriors began to rush toward them with a roar.

The bellow that echoed through the woods was impressive, but the army was highly trained and too professional to lose focus on such a distraction. But even Phasian warriors couldn’t ignore a giant karkadaan as it came charging angrily through their lines.

“I thought we shut that thing up in that abandoned barn.”

“We did,” Iolaus reassured his friend. “But on my way back from the caves, I let him out.”

“Are you crazy?” Hercules hissed. “How do you know that...?”

“Herc, we can’t do this without him. It’ll be all right. Just trust me,” the hunter shouted, hefting his sword and striding forward to meet the first wave of the onslaught. And because he did, implicitly, the demigod followed his lead, with the villagers filing in behind him. For as they were confronted with the attack, the mere thought of such ruthless warriors advancing on their families was enough to give them something to fight for.

But as it turned out, they weren’t needed. Hercules and Iolaus effectively took out the initial line, and the karkadaan handled the rest. The bulky animal was an army in itself, lashing out with hooves and teeth and horn, and blessed with a thick hide impervious to blade or bow. It barreled through the Phasians, sending men flying left and right, determined not to let one single warrior get to Iolaus. And in a matter of minutes, what was left of the mighty army was retreating in scattered clumps back up the hill.

The hunter began to lead the victory cheer, but the celebration ground to a halt as a flash of light and a cloud of smoke announced the arrival of one seriously pissed off god of war and his subdued nephew, who was wisely attempting to stay out of the way lest he get caught in the crossfire. Ares surveyed the village with a glower of death, tempted to incinerate the whole Arcadian highlands from the map once and for all. The burning in his stomach was not helping him curb that urge, and the pain got worse as his dark gaze came to rest on the creature that was zealously guarding the one it was supposed to kill.

“You are a beast of war,” he yelled at the karkadaan. “You’re fierce, not friendly! You kill, not cuddle! You’re a predator, not a damn pet!” But the animal merely gazed back at him, snorting a bit as warning to keep his distance.

“It’s over, Ares,” Hercules called out to his half-brother.

“It is NOT over!” the god raged. With lightening speed he went into his windup and launched a ball of lethal electricity at them. The karkadaan intercepted it, and to their collective amazement, the creature shook it off and started to charge. Ares got off two more shots, and the second one caused the animal to stumble a bit but it immediately regained stride and continued its attack with a deafening bellow. With a rather ungodly squeal, the big bad god of war vanished a mere second before impact. The karkadaan was confused by the sudden disappearance, but not as much as Strife, who never had quite learned when to keep his mouth shut.

“Ares?” he called out, not believing that his uncle had given up, sure that he would return with both fists blazing any second. But the god of war did not return, and Strife was left to stare down two stern warriors and their bad-tempered pet. “Uncle, come on,” the godling wheedled. “You aren’t going to let that bimbo win, are you?”

“Bimbo?!”

The very air quivered with Aphrodite’s outraged shriek, and as she materialized in a shower of sparkles it was apparent that love was the farthest thing from the goddess’ mind.

“I meant that in the best possible way,” Strife stammered.

“Oh I know what you meant,” Aphrodite told him. “What you meant to say was that love is a more powerful force than war, right?”

“Never!” the godling yelped in indignation. “War is the greatest power, and no blonde bimbo no-power goddess is going to tell me...” He trailed off mid rant, feeling a warm tingling sensation flooding through him, although he hadn’t seen Aphrodite send a small shower of pink heart-shaped sparkles his way. “But I can tell you,” Strife continued, leaning an elbow on the goddess’ shoulder and inclining his head confidentially toward hers. “I’m starting to be hip to why you call him ‘Sweetcheeks’.”

“What was that?” Iolaus demanded, his eyes growing wide with horror. The godling didn’t answer, apart from a lascivious grin and a flutter of fingers in a coy wave. “Tell me this isn’t happening,” the hunter pleaded with his partner. “A monster in love with me I can deal with. But Strife...?”

“Aphrodite.” The demigod’s voice held a warning note, but he was having trouble keeping a straight face.

“All’s fair in love and war, bro,” the goddess told him playfully, fluffing her blond curls.

Iolaus started looking around for the hole in the ground that was supposed to open up and swallow him, but his newest humiliation was all but forgotten as the karkadaan whimpered softly and collapsed on the ground, trembling and panting heavily. The hunter was instantly beside it, kneeling on the ground and stroking the shaggy mane.

“What’s wrong, pal?” he murmured. The long tail thumped against the ground in answer, and Iolaus’ concerned blue eyes quickly sought out his partner. “Herc, I think he’s hurt. Do something.”

The demigod rolled his eyes and held up his hands in a what-am-I-supposed-to-do gesture, but he obediently knelt down beside the prone creature and tried to look helpful. Strife also came forward with feigned concern, seizing the opportunity for a little contact as he leaned over the savvy hunter to offer help.

“Strife, I swear by the Styx I will beat you unrecognizable if you don’t back off me right now.”

The godling took a step back, but he couldn’t resist a growl of approval over his forcefulness. Recognizing that the immortal’s lifespan was dangerously close to being terminated, Hercules got up and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him away to give his friend and the karkadaan some peace.

“He’s not hurt,” Aphrodite reassured the worried hunter as she moved to stand beside him. “Just a little stunned. Those were some heavy blows he took.” She blew a kiss to the beast, covering it with a fine golden mist that was quickly absorbed through the thick hide and the animal instantly closed its eyes and relaxed.

“What did you do to him?” Iolaus asked anxiously.

“He’s just sleeping,” the goddess promised him. “When he wakes up, he’ll be good as new. And back home in Persia where he belongs.”

“Persia?” The hunter frowned slightly, for that was a long way away.

“It’s for the best,” Aphrodite told him. “My love spell will be wearing off soon.”

“So it was just a spell?” Of course the thought had occurred to him, but Iolaus had grown to like the creature and he was a bit crestfallen to know it was not a two-sided deal and that his new friend would soon revert back to the blood lusting monster who had tried to kill him.

“You’re cute, Sweetcheeks, but not that cute.” The goddess laughed, then grew almost serious as she followed his train of thought. “He can’t help it, you know. This is just what he is. It’s his nature to be a beast of war. But I know a delivery studmuffin who can take him back home. He’ll be in good hands, don’t worry.”

“And the rest of the people here?” the hunter asked. “Your spell will wear off on them, too?”

“In a day or two.”

“And what about Strife?” Iolaus groaned as the godling came skipping toward him, having given Hercules the slip.

“Eventually, it’ll wear off on him, too. And now I’d say we’re even for what happened with Syros and Delos. See you around, Sweetcheeks.”

“Oh, Sweetcheeks!” Strife called out gaily as Aphrodite vanished, taking the unconscious karkadaan with her. “I’ve got a present for you.” He held out a handful of flowers with a coquettish smile. “They’re the exact shade of your eyes.”

“No thanks,” Iolaus muttered darkly.

“Want a tour of Olympus?”

“Strife, there is not enough wine in the world to get me drunk enough to agree to date you,” the hunter snapped. “So just leave me alone.”

“Hard to get, huh?” the godling purred. “I like that.”

Iolaus threw up his hands in helpless exasperation before casting a murderous look to the heavens.

“I’m going to get her for this!”

“Ares?” Aphrodite looked around the darkened temple. “Come on, don’t be a sore loser.”

“Go away.” It was a voice that could have frozen lava, but the goddess was not put off.

“I won’t make you grovel,” she teased. “Just tell me what I want to hear. Come on, it’s just you and me here.”

“Fine.” Ares stepped out of the shadows to face her. “You have as much power as I do. Happy now?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then get the Tartarus out of here and leave me alone.”

“Don’t be like that,” Aphrodite coaxed him, pulling on his arm. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“But I have this princess that’s supposed to marry a rival prince to unite their kingdoms. Only thing is, he’s an arrogant idiot and she can’t stand him. Now, if I were to, say, make her fall in love with someone else, I’m sure there would be war. We could work together. What do you say?”

For a moment, the god of war looked thoughtful. Then his scowl returned and he pulled away, turning his back on her.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“They have Greek fire,” Aphrodite sang out temptingly.

“Really?” Ares turned around, brightening a bit. “Catapults, too?”

“Of course.”

“In that case, lead the way, little sister.”

Aphrodite grinned, linking her arm through his.

“Bitchin’!”

Finis

Disclaimer: Due in part to a Herculean effort, the object of Strife’s desire remained elusive during the writing of this story.

February 14, 2006

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