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title: Mirror Mirror
author: Achaea
author's email: JAchaea@aol.com


Monsters, warlords, villages in peril - can't Herc and Iolaus ever have a normal 
vacation? 


	
CHAPTER ONE


	
The temple was large and twilight-dim with shadows that not even the wall's 
ornamental torches could fully dispell; only a few claws of their light reached 
the piled offerings brought by hopeful supplicants.  From ornate coffers, golden 
coins and richly bejeweled trinkets gleamed sullenly amid gold and ivory 
statuettes and thick drapes of deep green or purple silk bartered from the lands 
aross the Great Sea. 
	
The amassed wealth could have fed the hungry of Greece for a year, but it was 
the raised altar in the center of the temple that commanded the attention of 
Jeranis,  currently Lord High Councillor to  King Naveus of Pita . . . but soon 
to be oh so much more.
	
Head bowed, he knelt in front of the dais, where a phosphorescent flame danced 
to a langurous and deadly rythm few mortals had experienced and lived to 
describe.   
	
Jeranis had been waiting on the slick marble flagstones for over an hour.   
Mortal time, like mortal life, meant little or nothing to the gods.  He fought 
off a shiver as chill from the stone floor climbed slowly up his knees to stroke 
the rest of his body with frigid fingers.  Even the luminous, unnatural fire 
seemed to burn without warmth.  
	
But Jeranis hadn't come here for the accommodations. 
	
"My Lady," he said.
	
In response, the flame on the dais flared with sudden green shadow.  Two eyes 
formed in the light, as green as the fronds of a peacock.  Eyes as cruel as a 
hawk, as spiteful as fire, as pitiless as stone.  
	
Hera had deigned to grant him an interview.
	
She spoke: "You have news?"  
	
Had the voice been merely human it might have sounded shrill rather than 
imperious, but this was the voice of a god.  Power resonated through each 
syllable, pounding against Jeranis' above all *mortal* body as if the goddess 
were only one step away from crushing him then and there.  

And he knew she was. 
	
"The Karnae  still waits unchallenged," he reported carefully.  
	
"I know that! Do not waste my time."  The words lashed at him like a winter 
gale, fast and furious. 
	
"Of course not, m-my Lady," Jeranis stuttered, hating the way he was forced to 
snivel. But he had done much worse things to get where he was, and would soon 
be. 
	
Long ago, he had learned to bide his time.  It would all be worth it once he had 
the reward Hera had promised him.
	
Hera would have her vengeance against Hercules, but soon Jeranis would have the 
world.
	
He kept his tone humble.  "As for Hercules, my informants tell me that he and 
his friend were seen just a few days west of here.  They should be in Pita 
momentarily."
	
"Good."
	
Jeranis hesitated.  "My Lady, are you sure the Mirror . . . ?"
	
Lightening flashed through the goddess's visage. "I do not wish to repeat 
myself!  The bauble will not work on Hercules. His heritage protects him."  
	
Hera's tone lapsed into bitterness at the admission, but sharpened immediately.  
"So the *heroes*  finally come.  Fulfill your part of our bargain, and you shall 
have your reward.  You know what to do." 
	
"Oh, yes, my Lady," Jeranis assured her, knees aching and heart pounding with 
visions.  

Hercules' destruction for a Mirror that had the power to make any mortal serve 
Jeranis to the death.  A fair bargain indeed!
	
His forehead touched the slick stone flagstones as he bowed.  "I will not fail, 
my Lady.  Hercules will never leave Pita alive."

*

It was a time in Ancient Greece when legends spent their days creating myth.   
Heroes, gods, and warrior princesses roamed a countryside of rugged snow-capped 
mountains, verdant green valleys, lush tangled forests, smooth acres of black 
sand, and generally a lot fewer olive trees than one might have expected.   
	
It was a time when pretty much anything could, and often did, happen, and in a 
particular year, as summer wound to a lazy close in a kingdom called Pita, what 
was happening was a proclamation from high lord councillor Jeranis.
	
*Another*  proclamation.
	
Thalpus, head of the Royal Guard, enjoyed announcing Jeranis' edicts to the 
villagers.  The look on their peasant faces gave him the same satisfaction he 
had received when, as a young child, he had placed bugs in a makeshift castle 
and then set the moat on fire.   
	
"By order of his Highness King Naveus of Pita," he read from his papras scroll. 
"Due to the unusually harsh winter, High Councilor Jeranis has deemed it 
necessary that the citizens of Pita pay another ration of their summer earnings-
-"
	
The villagers, standing dolefully around the stone-lined communal well upon 
whose lip Thalpus was perched, sagged at the new tax hike. 
	
"Hasn't Jeranis bled us dry enough?" called out a villager with the look of 
farmhand about him.  "The winter hurt us just as much as it did him, and having 
that man-eater, that Karnae, in the forest keeps us from hunting!  We need food 
too!" 
	
Thalpus only sneered at the outburst.  "If you've got a problem with anything, 
my guards will be happy to take it up with you."
	
For the first time, his entourage of patently well-armed guardsmen seemed to 
take an interest in the proceedings.  Leather creaked over bulging biceps as 
they scanned the crowd hopefully.
	
Over the minute sounds of a village trying to look inconspicuous, Thalpus 
returned to his scroll. "Furthermore, all subjects owning more than one goat or 
two chickens--"
	
So busy were the villagers noticing the guards, and so busy were the guards 
being noticed, that no one registered the small gang of children that had worked 
their way to the front of the crowd.  
	
"I bet you won't," hissed one of them.
	
"Oh yeah?" The girl shook her sleeves and ammunition came rolling into her hand. 
"Just watch me!" 
	
She handed the projectiles around and the children took aim.
	
Unaware of the covert activity around him, Thalpus continued the instructions.

 " . . . And have it delivered to the castle for accounting by tomorrow or --"
	
They threw. 
	
The first tomato hit the scroll, causing Thalpus to raise his head and allowing 
the second to score a direct hit between his eyes.  Several more made juicy 
starbursts on the leather vest he wore.
	
Unbalanced by the rain of overripe vegetables, Thalpus staggered backward onto 
ground that was not there, and fell.  He landed on the well's bucket, and feet 
flailing, swung there like a baby in a cradle.  
	
A very *angry* baby.
	
"Guards!" Thalpus roared.  "Get those kids!"
	
"Why bother?" someone called out from the anonymity of the crowd.  "They're just 
paying their taxes early!"
	
"Fifty denars to the man who brings me those brats!"
	
The children had planned their strike with meticulous care and knew exactly what 
to do.  They scattered, dodging around carts and villagers and taking to their 
heels like professional guerrillas.  
	
There was only one thing they hadn't expected.
	
That was the guards' persistence. 

*

In another part of the forest, two companions were making camp for the night.  
At least, one of them was. 
	
His legs crossed in front of him and fingers interlocked behind his blonde head, 
Iolaus leaned back against a convenient tree trunk and sighed with whole-hearted 
contentment.  Hercules, busy setting up a stone ring for the night's camp fire, 
paused to rest one arm on his knee and shook his own head as he watched his 
friend soak up the late summer sun. Waves of serenity seemed to lap out from 
Iolaus, who put just as much enthusiasm into relaxing as he did fighting 
injustice or falling in love.  
	
Mundane but necessary chores were another story.   
	
But Hercules didn't bother trying to convince his friend to lend a hand.   After 
all, this *was*  supposed to be a vacation.
	
Iolaus' eyes drifted peacefully shut.  
	
"This is the life, isn't it, Herc?"  he murmured.  "Two weeks without a single 
thing to do. . . ."  
	
"Speak for yourself."
	
"No, I mean real  things," Iolaus clarified sleepily, opening one blue eye just 
wide enough to give Hercules a reproving glance.  "No monsters, no dragoons, no 
warlords bent on enslaving innocent villages, no sudden ambushes by a platoon of 
heavily armed men.  And best of all, no unwanted attention from your step-
mother."
	
"Hera *has* been unusually quiet lately," Hercules agreed, thoughtfully weighing 
the final stone in one hand. "It's beginning to worry me."
	
This time Iolaus opened both eyes and leaned forward.  
	
"Herc," he said in the same lecturing tone he used whenever his friend ignored a 
pretty girl who was making eyes at the Hero Hercules, "I keep telling you, 
you've got to--"
	
"I know."  Hercules dropped the stone in place and completed his friend's oft-
aired sentiment like a dutiful pupil.  "I've got to learn how to relax."
	
"Enjoy the R&R while you've got it."
	
"I will, just as soon as I *can.*" 
	
Ignoring the hint and changing his tone to an affectedly weary sigh, Iolaus 
eased back against his tree. 
	
 "You know I enjoy the hero business, Herc, wouldn't change it," he sighed, "but 
there's nothing more satisfying than peace and tranquillity."
	
"What about peace, tranquillity and a full stomach?" Hercules countered, picking 
up the empty game bag invitingly.  "While I finish up the fire, why don't you go 
find something to cook over it?"
	
"Herc, there're hours of daylight left!"
	
"Good."  Hercules tossed the game bag to his friend with enough power to make 
Iolaus grunt a little as he caught it.  "Then you'll have time to get a lot."  
	
"Okay, okay," Iolaus sighed, gaining his feet with the ease of a warrior but 
without undue enthusiasm.  "Some guys just don't know how to relax."
	
Smiling to himself, Hercules listened as his friend plodded into the heavier 
forest that surrounded the small clearing the two travelers had reached an hour 
or so earlier.  Just as he had known they would, Iolaus' half-muttered 
complaints turned into a cheerful whistling before he was even fully hidden by 
trees.
	
Hercules waited until the light-hearted notes melted into the other, more 
soothing, sounds of the woods.  Then he dropped the piece of wood he had been 
fiddling with and seized the opportunity to stretch out against the tree Iolaus 
had so recently vacated.  
	
Iolaus might swear that he longed for nothing more than peace and quiet, but 
this was nearly the first night in their two weeks of 'relaxation' that he 
hadn't talked himself -- and Hercules -- into visiting some inn or festival or 
village they had once rescued from this or that.  
	
And while Hercules usually enjoyed such encounters as much as his partner, right 
now, with the afternoon sun hot and the breeze cool, the most he could wish for 
was a long, luxurious nap before Iolaus returned.
	
Yet even as he drifted into sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that the last 
few weeks had only been a lull, and the storm was coming.
	
Coming soon.

*

As Iolaus strode through the knee-high undergrowth of ferns and bush, he was 
careful to make noise enough to warn off any game that might be in the immediate 
area.  If he caught supper too soon, then he'd be back at camp before Hercules 
could finish his nap, and his friend deserved down time as much as anyone.  More 
than most, actually.  
	
As he *kept* telling Herc.
	
Beside, Iolaus enjoyed hunting.  It was a matter of skill, but unlike his 
daytime job,  it was always straightforward.  There was you, and the animal and 
nothing else: no hostages, no plots, no gods.  Just cunning and knowledge, 
instinct against instinct, with the prize all the sweeter for the effort that 
went into the task.  
	
On the other hand, he was pretty sure there was a village around here that he 
had heard was renown for its venison stew and it seemed a shame to miss it.  
After all, you could always hunt, but as the old Epicurean jingle ran, a good 
chef was hard to fi--
	
There was a sound.  
	
Iolaus froze, song and supper forgotten, and listened to the woods.  
	
The breeze played smoothly through the summer-green leaves. Somewhere a small 
animal nosed its way through the dark ferns that clustered beneath the shelter 
of the trees.  In the bushes birds clamored for overripe berries. 
	
But the noise Iolaus had heard had been something altogether different.  
Something like--
	
That..  
	
A coarse laugh, edged with cruelty.   Not  a sound that boded well. 
	
So much for peace and quiet.  
	
"I knew it was too good to last," Iolaus muttered, changing course to 
investigate.
	
Up ahead, the shadow-dripped forest widened into one of the small clearings that 
peppered the woods.  
	
Now he could make out a rough voice saying: "Thought you could get away, eh?" 
and another, much younger, much more frightened voice replied: "Go away!"  
	
More laughter.
	
Iolaus could see into the clearing now and wasn't all that surprised at what he 
saw.  He and Hercules ran into the same sort of situation with amazing, 
depressing, frequency.
	
The first speaker stood a few dozen paces away at the opposite end of the 
clearing.  He had five friends to keep him company, all with the brawny and 
vicious appearance of hired swords.  Their blades were still in their scabbards, 
but the way the men held themselves convinced Iolaus that they could unsheathe 
the weapons very competently and quickly if they ever felt the urge.
	
The men's quarry was huddled with obvious exhaustion against a tree slightly 
beyond where Iolaus stood.  She was as young as her voice had sounded, with a 
pale face delicate under dirt and scratches, and dark, wide eyes that stared out 
from under snarled reddish hair. 
	
She looked like she could do with a friend, and Iolaus was nothing if not 
friendly. Unslinging the game bag and letting it fall to the ground, he entered 
the picture.  
	
Behind him, the girl gasped in shock or fear, but the sudden appearance of an 
unarmed man a full head shorter than the smallest of the mercenaries didn't seem 
to faze the glowering men.
	
"Hi," Iolaus suggested.  "Nice day, isn't it?"  
	
Not surprisingly, the men shook their heads.  They also drew their swords. 
	
The well-honed blades purred as they cut the air.
	
And that reminded Iolaus that he had left his own weapon, as well as his 
partner, back at camp.  Two weeks suddenly seemed like a long time to be out of 
practice.  
	
Well, too late to worry about it, because the girl needed help *now*. . . .
	
The tallest mercenary stepped forward with an ostentatious whirl of his sword.  

"This is between us and the girl," he sneered.
	
"Actually, *I'm* between you and the girl," Iolaus corrected with an inviting 
grin.
	
There was a silent movement while his challenge sunk in.  Then things began to 
happen very fast. 
	
The girl screamed as the soldier charged.  
	
Instincts flared, muscles tensed, and now two weeks were nothing.  It just meant 
Iolaus had lots of energy stored up.
	
He waited until the man was almost upon him, then twisted to the side and down, 
using his own feet to sweep the mercenary's legs out from under him.  The man 
fell with a grunt, recovered and swept his sword across the air where Iolaus 
should have been.  
	
But the first rule of survival was never be where they expect you to be.  
Skidding to his feet on the other side of the mercenary, Iolaus spun and kicked, 
catching him solidly in the jaw.  
	
The man went down, but now, confined to ones and twos by the small clearing, the 
other mercenaries were joining the fray.
	
"I hope you're enjoying your nap, Herc!" Iolaus murmured, jumping over a low 
sword swipe.  He came down in a crouch and two blades coming in at neck-height 
sizzled over his head to collide with a metallic clang.  The resulting second of 
confusion let Iolaus straighten up and smash his fists into the mens' faces.
	
In perfect unison, the mercenaries fell over backwards and hit the ground with 
symmetrical groans while Iolaus retained both of the swords.  
	
And three more men attacked.
	
Somersaulting between two of them, Iolaus landed poised with the swords out and 
ready.
	
"We can still work this out, you know," he offered. 
	
Sunlight glinted off the two swords as Iolaus spun them expertly.  
	
"I'm not an unreasonable man."
	
"I am," the nearest mercenary promised and advanced with relish to prove it.
	
And once again, swordfight and the yells of combat cut through the summer air. 
	 
Inbetween parries, Iolaus grabbed enough time to check on the girl.  Forgotten 
for the moment, she clung to her tree with what seemed to be a steady 
determination to become one with the bark.  But she couldn't stay so close to 
the thick of the fight; she could get hurt all too easily.
	
A brutal sword slash came too close to taking off his ear, and Iolaus remembered 
that the girl wasn't the only one to whom that statement applied.
	
He countered another stab, then crossed his swords suddenly and caught his 
opponent's sword in the crotch of the two weapons.  A wrench, and the sword went 
flying, leaving the man open for a good smack in the face with a sword hilt.
	
Then the last two mercenaries came calling and in the muddle of clashing blades 
he lost the swords but cleared enough space to spring straight up and deliver 
matching kicks across the men's jaws.  They staggered, dropping their own 
weapons, and then a series of punches and kicks finally landed them next to 
their comrade in the dirt and rotting leaves.
	
Just in time for the fully recovered first shift to take up position. 	
	
"Now, I didn't enjoy that,"  Iolaus told them inbetween deep breaths.
	
The tall mercenary spat blood. 
	
"We'll enjoy *this*," he promised.  The glint in his eye was that of someone who 
knew when the odds were in his favor.  
	
So did Iolaus.  They weren't. 
	
Eyes never leaving the advancing men, Iolaus backed up until he stood by the 
girl.  It was time to bring the second rule of survival into play:  it's better 
to be outnumbered two to six than one to six -- especially when one of the two 
is Hercules.
	
Once, Iolaus might have let pride stop him from calling on his friend, but now 
he was confident enough in his own abilities that he had no qualms about 
bringing in a little high-powered back-up.   
	
After all, what else were friends for?
	
"Listen," he told the girl, "when I say 'go', run in that direction."
	
He pointed with his left hand, then sighed and reached out to pry her face away 
from the tree.  
	
"That way. Got it?"
	
"Why?" she sniffed.
	
"I've got a friend, a big guy, you can't miss him.  His name's Hercules."
	
Familiar with the reaction his friend's name provoked, Iolaus more sensed than 
saw the girl's eyes go round at the name.
	
"The *real*  Hercules?"
	
"As far as I know."   
	
Three men were just barely out of range now, with two others stirring into angry 
consciousness.
	
Eyes intense, Iolaus calculated.  "Okay. Go!" 
	
The girl bolted like a jackrabbit, and Iolaus charged forward, scooping up a 
fair-sized fallen branch and swinging it around like a club.  The nearest men 
stumbled under the roundhouse blow, but another mercenary advanced, sword intent 
on whittling the branch into kindling.  
	
"You know," Iolaus panted, parrying a blow that sent a shock wave through both 
arms and cut a nasty notch out of his impromptu weapon, "you guys could save 
everybody a lot of trouble and give up now."  
	
"Not likely."  His opponent's smile was ugly.
	
"It was just a thought,"  Iolaus sighed.
	
Catching the man's sword point deep in the branch, he twisted the blade into the 
brush.  Unfortunately, the wood went too. 
	
Six swords down.  Now he could start worrying about the actual *men*.
	
Anytime Hercules wanted to get here, it was fine by Iolaus.







CHAPTER TWO
	
	
	
Deep within its cavern, the Karnae heard the fighting.  Grunts, yells and the 
clash  of weaponry echoed throughout the forest.  
	
In the months the Karnae  had -- not quite lived, but  existed -- it had gotten 
quite used to such sounds.  Sometimes, they happened in the Karnae's vicinity 
and resulted in a tasty meal.  But mostly, it had been forced to ignore the 
sounds.   Those humans had not been for the Karnae.

Hera had ordered that only humans the human Jeranis designated could be killed 
and eaten.  The others must not be touched.  The Karnae  did not like this 
arrangement, but as its creator ordered, so it obeyed. 

And waited for the Hercules.  Always for the Hercules.
	
Its ears flattened with the thought of its creator's antagonist, its -- not 
quite mind, say  instincts --full of Hera's hatred.  It had been created for one 
thing alone, and each day stretched long without the opportunity to fulfill that 
task.  
	
There were many humans beyond the forest, but the Karnae would happily kill them 
all if that would bring the Hercules.  It would happily kill them anyway.
	
Once the Hercules was destroyed, the Karnae would have the freedom to roam. It 
would track humans whenever hunger  or boredom prompted, instead of waiting as 
it did now.  Waiting until the human Jeranis delivered a tidbit.  
	
Such tidbits had not come for months now.  The human Jeranis would not let the 
Karnae  raid the village now.  He had not let it kill the young human who had 
come with trumpets and banners.  He did not let the Karnae  have any playthings, 
even small ones that would not be missed much.  
	
No, with him it was always wait, always promises that the Hercules would soon 
come.
	
And so the Karnae waited alone with the humans in the cave, those who had 
discovered the cavern and the Mirror before the Karnae's creation.  
	
Those humans were uninteresting. They had stared into the Mirror  once and were 
still staring, motionless, years later.  Those ones watched without blinking, 
lived without living, survived without  eating or drinking.
	
Yet the Karnae saw nothing in the Mirror.  
	
Its tail lashed petulantly at the thought.
	
Stupid humans.  
	
The mirror watchers tasted of dust and gave no nutrition. Stupid, weak humans.
	
The Karnae was not weak.  Hera had gifted it with secret power, the power to 
escape death as ordinary creatures could not.  It could be killed, yes, but the 
worthless body would become a new shape of Hera's choosing, and the Karnae would 
live again. 
	
The king's humans that came with swords had cost the Karnae some lives.  They 
had used arrows and tricks of hiding where they could not be reached.  But in 
the end the Karnae  always triumphed. 
	
And then it fed.
	
Grinning lazily at the thought, the Karnae lifted a paw and carefully brushed 
back its whiskers.  Perhaps one of these new humans who fought in the woods was 
the Hercules it hated for Hera's sake.  
	
Yes, it must be the Hercules.  The Karnae would fight, and win, and gain its 
reward.  
	
And the Hercules would die.

*
	
Hercules jogged alertly through the forest.  He had heard screams and no hero 
worth his salt would ignore screams of any kind, let alone ones that sounded 
like they came from a child.  Besides which, if there was anything happening in 
the forest, he had no doubt that by now, Iolaus would be right in the thick of 
it.  
	
Now he could hear the faint sounds of battle.  Hercules picked up his pace and 
wondered if Hera was behind whatever he was racing toward.  If so, it was all 
the more reason to get there fast.
	
"Hey!"  
	
A ragged figure exploded out of the brush and ran toward him, scattering leaves 
like confetti in its wake. As it neared, he realized it was a young girl with 
dress in tatters and hair looking half twigs.  
	
Pausing in his progress, Hercules squatted down and put out a supporting hand as 
the girl reached him.  
	
"Are you all right?" he said gently.
	
The girl nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again.  "It's not me, I mean 
they were after me, but now he's fighting them."  
	
She was shaking from exertion. Or fear.  
	
"Hold on a minute.  Who's fighting who?"  Hercules asked, although he had a 
pretty good idea.
	
"He's shorter, they were chasing, he told me to get you . . ."  
	
Trailing off, the girl regarded Hercules with sudden alarm.  
	
"You *are* the legendary Hercules, son of Zeus, brother of Aphrodite, nephew of 
Hades, and slayer of monsters, aren't you?"
	
Hercules rubbed an absent finger along his chin.  "I'm Hercules, yes.  As for 
the rest, trust me, it's not as glamorous as it sounds.  What's your name?" 
	
"Derid."
	
"Well, Derid, the man fighting is my partner, Iolaus, and I'd better go lend a 
hand or we'll never get anything to eat tonight.  You'll be safe here."
	
Derid nodded, bending almost double as she tried to regain the breath that had 
left her scores of minutes before.
	
When she thought to look up again, Hercules had already disappeared. 
	
Hercules! 
	
Her heart still pounded, but now it was from excitement rather than fear.  She 
had seen the legendary Hercules!  She was going to be saved by him!  Well, the 
other one, Iolaus, had really saved her, but he was Hercules' friend, and now 
Hercules had gone to save *him*, so that was almost the same thing.  
	
And with Hercules around, there was no way she could be harmed, so . . . .
	
Stay here when she could be watching a hero at work?  
	
No way!
	
Wait until she told the kids back at the village. This adventure would be worth 
a month of tomato-throwing!  

*	

Life in the clearing was becoming unfortunate.  True, several of the mercenaries 
had fallen and wouldn't be getting up for some time, if Iolaus had done his work 
right . . . .
	
But now . . . .
	
A mercenary's fist crashed against Iolaus' jaw and the forest grew momentarily 
hazy.  Before he could recover, a backhand blow across the face sent him 
staggering around to intercept a kick that doubled him over to receive a knee in 
the face.  
	
Lights sparked erratically through his vision but Iolaus managed a wild punch 
through the sudden static, and a follow-up backward elbow jab left him free to 
back into another waiting mercenary.
	
Things were not going well. 
	
The man wrapped his arms around Iolaus, locking his wrists together against 
Iolaus' chest and pinning the smaller man's arms to his sides in order to leave 
him open for the less-than-tender administrations of the rest of the band.  
Iolaus had other plans, and throwing his weight backward, he kicked his legs out 
into the advancing mercenaries.  
	
They fell back half a dozen paces and Iolaus used the brief reprieve to jerk his 
head back hard. He felt nose cartilage crumple beneath his scull and the 
pressure around his ribcage loosened as his captor retreated to tend his nose.  
The mercenary groaned, doubling up to cup his wounded face in both hands.
	
Various bruises advised Iolaus to take a break and find his breath and his 
bearings.  Instead, he used the broken-nosed mercenary's back as a support and 
swung both legs up and over, kicking out to take care of a man in the rear.  
	
Coming down on the other side of the cursing mercenary,  Iolaus landed badly, 
stumbled a few steps backward, and once again bumped into something large and 
solid.
	
"This is getting ridiculous," he groaned and turned a little dazedly.
	
Hercules stood posed against the afternoon sun. 
	
"You call this relaxing?" he asked. 
	
Iolaus rolled his eyes.  "It's about time!" he snapped.
	
"Behind you."
	
Almost casually, Hercules leaned one arm against a nearby tree.  Automatically, 
Iolaus jumped, caught the arm on the armshield, and swung out in a two-footed 
kick that sent the onrushing man tumbling backward. 
	
Even as Iolaus came back to ground, the remaining men readied themselves for 
attack.
	
"Persistent, aren't they?"  Hercules observed.  
	
"Yeah, you could say that," Iolaus panted, pushing sweat dampened hair out of 
his eyes.
	
Hercules took a slow, measuring look around the clearing, then let his attention 
drift back to the men.  None of them showed any signs of retreating or of 
recognizing him.
	
And he really had been enjoying his snooze.
	
Hercules glanced at his friend. 
	
"Mind if I make this quick, Iolaus?  I'd like to get back to my nap."
	
Sinking thankfully to the ground for a breather, Iolaus waved a magnanimous 
hand.  "They're all yours."
	
"We've got them now!" yelled one of the mercenaries, thus explaining why he 
hadn't chosen the career of professional seer.   
	
However, the allure of life as a paid soldier paled considerably as the 
mercenary's charge was halted in mid-run and he was abruptly hefted into the air 
by his belt buckle. 
	
Hercules planted his feet more firmly as he swung the charging mercenary into 
the air and ignoring the man's feeble but heartfelt objections to the treatment, 
held him suspended over Hercules' own head.  
	
Confused at the sudden turn of events, the other mercenaries held their ground 
in a worried huddle while Hercules calculated distance and accounted for wind 
interference.  Iolaus just grinned his enjoyment of a good show. 
	
Then inhuman muscles flexed and Hercules shot-putted his soldier.  
	
Howling in fear and propelled by superhuman strength, the man skimmed across the 
clearing, directly into the cluster of his comrades.  Everyone toppled.  
	
Not even breathing hard, Hercules waited a moment to make sure the men stayed 
down, then shrugging slightly, turned back to where Iolaus still sat.
	
"Nap?"  Iolaus asked him.
	
"Just taking your advice," Hercules said, sticking out a hand to help the other 
man to his feet.  "You know, there are easier ways to get out of cooking 
dinner."
	
"I just didn't want to hog all the fun," Iolaus countered, grinning.
	
"Fun?"  Hercules' eyebrows arched.  "I thought peace and quiet was fun."
	
 "Well, sure, but that's a different kind."  
	
Chuckling, Iolaus took a last look at the wreckage.  Most of them had finally 
gotten the message and were making determined efforts to run, or at least crawl, 
away.  

Then he  snapped his fingers as a new thought came to him. 
	
"Oh, hey, there was this girl--"
	
Hercules nodded.  "I know.  I met her about half a mile from here."
	
"Well, we'd better find her . . . she was pretty scared." 
	
But Derid was suddenly among them, beaming through the tangle of her hair and 
showering inarticulate praise on both men.
	
"Oh, wow, oh wow, that was so cool!" she squealed.  "That was incredible! Wait 
'til I tell everyone about it!"
	
"I don't know, Iolaus," Hercules deadpanned. "I think she may be tougher than 
she looks."
	
*

The search party found Hercules, Iolaus and Derid long after the three had 
broken camp and started down the well-worn path that Derid said would lead to 
Pita.  
	
The girl, who seemed intent on reciting every adventure she had ever heard that 
involved either of the heroes, cut off abruptly as half a dozen men came into 
view along the road.  They were traveling quickly and most carried pitchforks or 
bows; one man even gripped an elderly sword.  It was the type of impromptu 
defensive weaponry that villagers dug out of barnyards or chests of family 
heirlooms from the Punic wars because they had no regular use for armaments.  
	
The leading man was square-jawed and still mostly dark-haired. He carried his 
age well, and held a stout cudgel with an easy confidence that probably meant he 
could use it.  

Catching sight of the threesome, he signaled his group to halt at a safe 
distance from the travellers.
	
"Derid?" he called a little uncertainly.  "Is that you, girl?"
	
Derid's response was unequivocable.  She propelled herself directly into the 
leading man's arms so quickly that even Hermes with his winged shoes could 
hardly have equaled her speed.   The leading man barely had time enough to drop 
his staff and catch her.
	 
"Uncle Temeus!" she squealed, hugging him enthusiastically.  "Uncle Temeus, 
Uncle Temeus!"
	
"That must be Uncle Temeus," Iolaus reiterated.
	
"I'd gathered as much," Hercules agreed, sharing his partner's grin at the 
reunion.
	
The other men of the search party were also smiling, but in a half-distracted 
way that did nothing to hide the way their eyes searched the deepening shadows 
of the surrounding woods.  
	
Hercules' instincts prickled -- what were these men watching for? -- but for the 
moment, he kept his questions to himself.  No point in ruining the festive mood 
needlessly.  It was just another possibility of trouble, just one more thing to 
keep an eye on. 
	
The man designated as Uncle Temeus had finally pulled away from his niece's 
embrace and was now regarding her sternly.   
	
"What in the name of all the gods possessed you to throw a tomato at Thalpus?" 
he demanded.
	
A tomato? 
	
Hercules and Iolaus traded bemused glances.  Derid had preferred to talk about 
the heroes rather than herself and they had only gathered a sketchy explanation 
of what had caused the girl's predicament.
	
The girl shrugged.  "Dramus dared me to."
	
Iolaus was grinning openly now, but the look on Temeus' face said that he didn't 
share the blonde man's approval of Derid's audacity.  As someone who had been a 
father and consequently knew the worry that a child's stunts could cause, 
Hercules sympathized with the man and tried to keep his own smile under wraps. 
	
The thought brought up another question. Why was Temeus leading the search 
party?  Where was Derid's father? 
	
Questions piled on top of questions, and Temeus' next comment birthed yet more.
	
"But Derid, why by Zeus did you run into the forest!"  the man persisted.  
"Don't you know what could have happened?   
	
There was a mostly unrepentant silence from Derid and after a moment Temeus gave 
up.  Hercules could sympathize with that, too.  
	
"What's so special about the forest?"  Iolaus asked quietly.
	
Before Hercules could suggest that the odds were in favor of them finding out, 
one way or another, sooner rather than later, Temeus suddenly seemed to become 
aware of the two men. 
	
"My apologies, friends," he said, striding forward.  "I should have given you my 
thanks for finding Derid long before now."
	
"No apologies necessary," Hercules said, grasping Temeus' proffered forearm.  
"Derid's the most important thing." 
	
Temeus moved to clasp arms with Iolaus as well.  
	
"Which is why I owe you my gratitude!" he said with an unrestrained emotion that 
proved his feelings for the girl . "I don't have much to offer you in return, 
but could you do with some dinner and lodging?" 
	
As always at the mention of food, Iolaus' eyes lit up.  
	
"Temeus," he said, "you read our minds."
	
"Good, then," Temeus beamed. 
	
Behind them, Hercules watched the rest of the search party shift impatiently. 
	

"Temeus, now that we've found the girl," one of the men called out. "Shouldn't 
we get going?"
	
Suddenly serious, as if the words had reminded him of something, Temeus nodded 
quickly.  "Of course." 
	
As the newly expanded group set out again -- the men of the search party moving 
at a speed closer to a trot than a walk -- Hercules once again had the feeling 
that there was something going on here that he didn't understand yet.  A glance 
at Iolaus showed that the same sentiments were running through his thoughts as 
well.
	
It was a question each adventurer had asked too many times to remember during 
the course of their travels.
	
What are we getting ourselves into?

*	

Jeranis was in his room studying the latest advertisements for battle weaponry 
when Thalpus knocked and, upon permission, entered.  A glance ascertained that 
behind the leader of the guards stood several other soldiers.  Soldiers who 
looked as if they had been in a fight and hadn't won.  
	
It didn't matter whether or not they had lost.  Jeranis only cared that they 
hadn't won.
	
With a snap, he let the scroll in his hands roll shut.  The soldiers tensed.  
	
Stone-faced, Thalpus stared straight ahead at nothing.
	
That was why Jeranis had made the man his second-in-command: because Thalpus 
betrayed nothing, and no one, if only because he was a relatively intelligent 
man and knew better than to throw his life away with an attempted treachery.  He 
also had a certain flair for brutality that was useful in a limited way when 
Jeranis needed certain details to be taken care of.  
	
But when Thalpus acted this military, it meant he was about to relay news of 
weakness and mistakes.
	
"Yes?" Jeranis said.
	
He kept his tone lazy.  Indolence could be torpidity or it could be confidence.  
And Jeranis had learned long ago that confidence was power. 
	
"Several of my men pursued an insolent child into the forest yesterday," Thalpus 
reported crisply.  
	
"Surely a child did not do all of what I see here?" 
	
If a child had bested the men, Jeranis would have them thrown in the darkest 
dungeon until he had completed his coup of Pita.  Then the pitiful excuses for 
soldiers would be strung from the palace walls by their entrails.   
	
"My lord, in the forest they met, challenged and were vanquished by two men." 
	

Now a trace of excitement wove into Thalpus' recitation.  "One of these men was 
brown-haired, very tall and possessed an inhuman strength."
	
Inwardly, Jeranis tensed. "Hercules," he whispered.  
	
"We believe so, my lord."  
	
Only long practice kept the grin of triumph off Jeranis' face.  He had waited so 
long.  Waited, plotted and planned, and now the players were finally on the 
board.  And they didn't even know what game they were playing.
	
Behind Thalpus, the soldiers relaxed.  
	
Jeranis' eyes narrowed once more as he read the emotions on their bruised faces.  
They thought so simply and showed so much. 
	
He turned back to his scrolls.
	
"Kill these men," he ordered flatly, "and then prepare a welcoming committee for 
Hercules and his friend."
	
The portable armored wagon shown in the scroll could be useful.  Once he had 
plundered Pita, he would have to buy one or two. Or two hundred. 
	
Jeranis didn't bother to hear the pleas for mercy the men screamed.  He had much 
more important things to contemplate.	
	
Such as the destruction of Hercules.






CHAPTER THREE
	


The journey through the woods was a fast and quiet one.  Temeus and the men 
walked with a silent intensity, and even Derid postponed her usually incessant 
chatter until the trees on either side of the road began to thin. 
	
Once the group reached the outskirts of the forest, the men began to murmur 
contentedly amidst themselves and Temeus relaxed with an obvious relief that 
once again made Hercules' instincts flare.
	
It was time to get to the bottom of this.
	
"Temeus," he said, "from the way you and the other men are acting, I get the 
feeling that there's something Iolaus and I don't know about this forest."
	
"Yeah, we didn't notice anything out of the ordinary," Iolaus shrugged.
	
Temeus' eyes widened and he shook his greying head wonderingly. 
	
"You don't mean to say you've been traveling in the woods without knowledge of 
the Karnae?"
	
"Karnae?" Hercules echoed blankly. 
	
The name didn't sound promising, but it meant nothing to him.  Besides him, 
Iolaus motioned his own lack of recognition of the word.
	
"Then it's equally lucky for you that you found Derid," Temeus said, "so we 
could warn you."
	
"Warn of us what?"
	
Before Temeus could elaborate, Derid grabbed his arm and tugged in a universal 
demand for attention. 
	
"Uncle Temeus," she chided, "this is *Hercules*.  He and Iolaus eat monsters 
like the Karnae for breakfast!"
	
At the name, Temeus stopped walking and stared.
	
"Right, Hercules?"
	
"Actually, I prefer scrambled eggs," Hercules offered.  He avoided looking at 
Iolaus, knowing the enjoyment his friend usually received from Hercules' own 
embarrassment at the reaction his name provoked. 
	
Temeus kept staring.
	
He had been so relieved about finding Derid unharmed and afterward so intent on 
exiting the forest that it was true he had neglected to determine the identity 
of his new companions.  But Hercules?   
	
And yet . . . . he took in the height, the body slim in the way of athletes in 
perfect physical condition, the aura of easy confidence and the chiseled facial 
features with their good-natured, self-conscious, expression. . . .
	
"By all the gods!" 
	
"No, only one of them," Hercules shrugged half-apologetically and rocked on his 
feet, eager to turn the conversation away from himself.
	
"Hercules and Iolaus are going to cream the Karnae," Derid stated, eyes alight 
with sunny confidence.  "Aren't you?"
	
That kind of instinctive trust -- and these kinds of petitions -- was what a 
reputation like Hercules' inspired.  And as his friends had many times privately 
noted, his reaction to such wrongs was exactly what had inspired his reputation 
in the first place.
	
"If there's a problem, we'll do our best to fix it," Hercules promised and 
Iolaus nodded his agreement.  
	
"But it would help to know what exactly this Karnae is," he added. 
	
Temeus stopped looking amazed and frowned.  "No one really knows much about the 
beast," he admitted.  "But I'll tell you all I can."
	
And therein he related his tale.
	
No one knew when the Karnae had first arrived in the forest, but almost three 
months earlier it had begun to attack travelers and hunters in the woods.  After 
the first deaths, the king had ordered a band of soldiers to find and dispatch 
it.  The men had never returned.  
	
After that, the Karnae had started to make raids on the outlying farms of the 
village, sometimes just taking livestock, but sometimes carrying off people.  A 
few villagers claimed to have seen it from a distance, but the accounts on its 
shape varied unaccountably -- some said it looked like a giant snake, some a 
huge boar and some swore it was a lion bigger than a horse.
	
More soldiers were sent and more died.  Finally the King's own son led a company 
of men in search of the creature.  The prince, barely more than a boy, was lost 
as well; soon afterward the raids had stopped.  Still, few dared venture into 
the woods during daylight, let alone in the gloom of night. 
	
"We depend on the woods for much of our food," Temeus concluded, "and our 
inability to hunt combined with the destruction caused by the Karnae is ruining 
the village.  We're barely scraping by and with these new taxes . . . ."
	
He trailed off helplessly, his frustration patent. 
	
"The king is levying new taxes?" Hercules asked, surprised and disgusted. 
"Doesn't he know what condition the village is in?"
	
Now Temeus' frustration was closer to anger as he hit the ground hard with his 
staff.  
	
"It's not like that.  King Naveus is a good man but a trusting one, and his high 
councilor, Jeranis, takes advantage of the king's credulity.  Not only does 
Jeranis terrorize the village, but when the king's soldiers were destroyed by 
the Karnae, he hired an army of thugs to help enforce his power."
	
"Yeah, we've met," Iolaus grimaced.
	
"They call themselves the 'king's men' but they're loyal only to Jeranis.  
Despite that, we almost had the king convinced of Jeranis' treachery."
	
"And then the Karnae came," Hercules finished.  "How convenient for Jeranis."	

Temeus betrayed no surprise at the suggestion, but only shot a cautious glance 
toward where Derid had drifted over to examine the flowers along the road ahead 
of them.  Sensing his gaze, she looked back and smiled, but seemed more 
interested in the flora than in their discussion.
	
"There's more," Temeus continued once he was sure that his niece was out of 
earshot.  "I can't prove anything, but it can't be a coincidence that the first 
place the Karnae attacked was where we had chosen to meet and plan our rebellion 
against Jeranis.  My brother Saleon, Derid's father, and most of the other 
community leaders were killed.  I stayed home that night to help watch over my 
youngest child -- he had just broken his arm falling out of a tree -- or else I 
wouldn't be here today either."
	
"And now the Karnae and Jeranis' new taxes keep you too busy to organize any 
more protests,"  Iolaus guessed with grim certainty.
	
"I'm afraid so."  Temeus scrutinized the faces of the heroes, as if searching 
for any hesitation or inclination to back out now that they knew the details.  
	
He needn't have worried.  Now more than ever, Hercules was certain that he 
wanted to get to the bottom of this situation.
	
There were many gods who would see nothing wrong with providing a monster for 
the use of an aspiring warlord, as long as the warlord's actions would benefit 
them in some way.  But Hercules' instincts pointed irrevocably to the one god 
who had constantly proven how little she cared for mortals.
	
Hera.  This arrangement had her touch all over it. 
	
And because of a god's involvement, a little girl's father had died, along with 
who knows how many others.
	
And that same girl had been chased and tormented for a harmless prank. 
	
Hercules felt anger simmering inside him. What had Iolaus said? ::No monsters, 
no warlords bent on enslaving innocent villages.::  Well, if Hercules had 
anything to say about it, there would soon be one less of both in the kingdom of 
Pita.
	
Derid was back among them now, daisies stuck haphazardly into her tangled hair.
	
"So are you going to get Jeranis, too?" she asked casually, bending down to tuck 
other flowers into the laces of Hercules' boots.  
	
That was a lesson that Hercules had discovered many times with his own kids: 
children were a lot more aware of the 'grown-up' world than adults wanted to 
admit.
	
"It should be no problem, huh?" Derid prompted expectantly.
	
"Well," Iolaus temporized. "We've been resting up."
	
 "Call it a--" ::How did Salmoneus put it?::--"a two for one special,"  Hercules 
agreed.
	
Derid grinned, and raised her hands as if to clap before remembering that she 
was too old for that sort of thing. Temeus just looked eternally grateful.
	
"I'd heard the stories," he began, "but I never thought that . . . "
	
Hercules gently cut him off. "It's our pleasure." 
	
And it was.  Temeus was a good man in a hard position and Derid deserved 
everything good and more.  And whether he had to battle mortal or immortal 
opponents, or both, Hercules was going to see to it that her future was safe and 
prosperous. 
	
Ahead of him, shadows from fruit trees dappled the rich summer soil of the road. 
They fell on Iolaus, now wearing a daisy crown from Derid as he took on 
invisible armies from one of the few Herculean stories the girl hadn't yet 
heard.  They spread across Temeus, who had gone up to confer with the rest of 
the search party; heads craned back to stare at the adventurers.  They spread 
toward Pita and whatever was waiting there.
	
The only sounds Hercules could hear were peaceful and safe: branches rubbing 
together, birds fluttering from tree to tree, the occasional snap of a twig 
underfoot.  Iolaus' narration and Derid's excited encouragement.
	
Normal sights.  Normal sounds.  Normal day.	

*

Aphrodite, primo goddess of love, swept into Hesphaestus' forge at Mt. Aetna 
like a ray of sunshine.  And that wasn't just a simile -- she had finally 
wheedled a sunbeam out of Apollo and she was wearing it to full advantage 
tonight.  
	
Geez, another evening with the folks.  How lame was that ?
	
Nothing was more boring than listening to a bunch of gods crack bad jokes over 
ambrosia that was way too fattening for her to eat.  Heph had gotten out of it 
because he wasn't exactly the social type, but of course she had no such luck. 
	
They hadn't even noticed her sunbeam. 
	
She was feeling neglected and what she needed now was a bit of adulation from 
her boy Heph.  Okay, a *lot* of adulation.  
	
Hephaestus was sitting moodily in a chair that any mortal metalsmith would have 
given a left hand to possess and a soul to create.  It gleamed, twisted, caught 
the light and scattered it into a million perfect crystals of color. . . . . 
	
All things considered, it really wasn't one of his better works, just a 
throwaway he had used to smooth out the kinks for the throne he was making for 
her.  
	
Aphrodite didn't really need a throne -- she had dozens -- but Heph was like 
that.  It was so  sweet.
	
"Hey babe," she said winsomely, knowing that despite the mild gloom of the 
forge, the sunbeam was showing her to be the knock-out she was.  
	
"My darling," the god said, immediately turning to her.  He kissed her hand 
passionately.
	
She arc'd one exquisite eyebrow.  "Heph, we've got to work on your aim."
	
The air around the god abruptly began to sizzle.
	
When things had cooled down, Aphrodite adjusted her sunbeam and sighed loudly.  
	

"That party was such a bummer," she complained.  "Someone has got to tell Hera 
that three cups of nectar is her limit.  But you know how she gets when she's 
working on another one of her schemes to mess with big brother Hercules or 
something.  Boy, does she ever need to learn how to chill!"
	
Hephaestus propped himself up on the bed with one elbow, as always making sure 
the scarred half of his face was away from her.  Even though she kept telling 
him it was no biggee. 
	
"Maybe we should warn Hercules," he suggested.  
	
"Oh, that's so noble," Aphrodite cooed and placed a petite hand on his chest.   
"But--" she continued, shoving him back down on the bed,  "Herc can take care of 
himself."
	
"Are you sure?"  Hephaestus asked.
	
Aphrodite smiled widely.  
	
"Why don't you worry about yourself," she suggested.
	
After a while, the sunbeam winked modestly out .
	
Sometime later, in the darkness a muffled voice sighed: "Bitchin'."
			
*	

On the surface, Pita was like most villages Iolaus had visited: thatch-roofed, 
crowded, and loud.  People hawked wares, haggled, shouted, chatted, flirted and 
just plain worked in the marketplace that made up the bulk of the city's 
downtown.  All perfectly natural.  
	
If he hadn't been watching for them, he would have never noticed the subtle 
signs that said the people of Pita were in no way one hundred percent content.   
But it was there, in the slightly too fast pace the villagers used and in the 
tightness around their eyes that didn't lessen despite smiles.
	
These people were afraid.  Of something *and* someone, according to Temeus.
	
But all that was about to change.
	
Thus the girl Pita had feared lost returned to her home, sitting high and proud 
and exhausted on the broad shoulders of Hercules, son of Zeus, while Iolaus -- 
loyal friend and comrade -- strode casually at their side and made sure his 
sword was handy. 
	
Just in case.
	
By now, a fair-sized crowd was gathering, drawn toward the procession by the 
inordinate curiosity inherent in all villagers Iolaus had ever known.  Hercules' 
name burned through the bystanders, with Iolaus' own name flickering erratically 
on the heels of his friend.  Both, however, were quickly drowned underneath a 
chorus of Derid's as the villagers recognized the girl.
	
Derid drank it in, waving so vigorously that more than once Herc had to grab her 
legs to keep her from tumbling off his shoulders.  When Temeus led a tear-
stained woman toward the group, however, Derid forgot her satisfaction and 
quickly sliding to the ground, threw herself into her mother's arms.  
	
Her mother managed to cry, kiss her daughter and harangue Derid all at the same 
time, and prompted by the reunion, the villagers began to clap and hurrah.  
Within moments the pair were surrounded by friends and relatives exclaiming 
excitedly over the girl's scratched face and torn dress.  In turn, Derid told 
the story of her flight and subsequent rescue so energetically that every second 
word was incomprehensible.
	
Ignored for the moment and perfectly satisfied to be so, Hercules and Iolaus 
watched the homecoming with deep pleasure.  
	
It was always fine to gain notoriety for being quick and strong enough to do 
battle and survive, but there was nothing more rewarding than seeing a family 
reunited.  And beyond that, Iolaus knew that for his friend it was also a 
partial fulfillment of the vow Hercules had made to his own lost family: to 
protect others as he had not been able to protect Deianeira and the children.  
	
"I don't know, Herc, maybe this'll be easier than we thought," Iolaus suggested, 
mood lightening as he surveyed the celebrating mob.  
	
"Maybe."
	
"Come on Hercules," Iolaus reproved.  "Nobody likes a gloomy Gustaphaus."
	
"A gloomy who?"
	
"It's an expression.  I mean, so far all we've got is a warlord and a monster -- 
we do that all the time."
	
When Hercules didn't reply, Iolaus finally turned to study his partner.  "Herc. 
What's wrong?"
	
Hercules sighed, half-frowning as he searched for words.  The best way he could 
describe the warnings that his instincts were providing was the vague 
explanation that he 'just had a feeling.' 
	
Now Iolaus grew serious as well.  Hard experience had taught him just who was 
the most probable cause of his friend's 'feelings.'   That same experience had 
also taught him not to take Hercules' instincts lightly.  Iolaus' instincts were 
delicately honed, but Herc's were immortal.
	
But nothing to do about it until it happened.  Whatever it was.
	
"You know," Iolaus mock-griped.  "I wish one of these times your 'feeling' would 
be nothing more than a stomach ache."
	
"So do I, my friend,"  Hercules answered, hands on hips, blue eyes still heedful 
for the unexpected.  
	
"And speaking of food,"  Iolaus continued, crossing his arms and rocking idly on 
the balls of his feet.  "I could do with that meal Temeus promised us."  
	
"You always can," Hercules reminded him, and finally grinned at the look Iolaus 
shot him.  But a little pressing had him admitting that he, too, was ready for a 
hearty meal. 
	
Behind them, someone moved. 
	
They turned, expecting Derid and her mother, and were met with a sudden expanse 
of villager-free space.
	
And then the partners saw why everyone had moved.
	
It was to make room for all the soldiers. 
	
A ragtag lot from all the seediest corners of Greece, the only thing they had in 
common was the amount of weaponry they carried and the singularly unpleasant 
expression on their faces.  
	
They advanced grimly.
	
"You know, on second thought I don't think I'm that hungry after all," was 
Hercules' only comment.

*

Since she had been rescued, Derid hadn't thought at all of the guards -- or the 
fact that Hercules and Iolaus had *fought* them.  Now suddenly anxious, she 
struggled to see what was happening, craning to see around the taller adults and 
worming forward through the crowd.
	
Her mother pulled her back. 
	
"We're going home right now," she ordered.  Then, in a softer tone: "You must be 
starved, and I have some ointment for the worst of your scratches."
	
"But Mom--" Derid protested, trying vainly to scoot around her mother.
	
"Derid,  I said we're going home.   King Naveus wishes to see the heroes; they 
don't have time for you right now."
	
"But--"
	
"Later. We'll have time to properly thank them when they get back."
	
"Mom--"
	
"Derid. Later."
	
As she was hauled away from the market square, Derid strained to keep sight of 
the heroes.  Then the gleaming pikes the guards carried obscured even Hercules 
from her view.
	

CHAPTER FOUR


	
The soldiers proceeded down the road into the marketplace, led by a fair-haired, 
hard-faced horseman.  He wore black leather that left his well-muscled arms 
free, and unlike his soldiers, he appeared to take personal hygiene seriously.  
Typical henchman material, which would make him Thalpus, the man who had ordered 
a child to be hunted down in order to satisfy his wounded vanity. 
	
Calm but eminently alert, Hercules and Iolaus waited.
	
In Hercules' peripheral vision, he could see most of the villagers prudently 
disappearing back into their shops and houses, although a few lingered in case 
the heroes were about to do something heroic.  He couldn't see Derid -- 
hopefully her mother had taken her home where she would be safe -- but Temeus 
stood off to one side, face angry and helpless.
	
The soldiers stopped only when they were were too close for courtesy but still 
too far away to prove insult.  Hercules could see the individual smudges of dirt 
on each battle-scarred face of the first rank.
	
Besides him, Iolaus shifted his weight and slid a pace away, clearing space in 
case they were about to do battle.  But Hercules didn't think that would be 
necessary.
	
If Jeranis was everything that Temeus claimed and Hercules suspected, then he 
certainly wouldn't appreciate having someone of Hercules' reputation hanging 
around.  The bad guys rarely did.  But from what Temeus had told them, Jeranis 
still operated in King Naveus' shadow, and someone who operated in shadows did 
not deal in direct confrontation.
	
Even so, Hercules widened his stance ever so slightly.  It never hurt to be 
prepared.
	
After a moment, Thalpus jerked his mount into the small space left between 
Hercules and Iolaus, and the soldiers.  His grey eyes held nothing but contempt 
as he surveyed the partners.   
	
I am here to beg in King Naveus' name your presence at the palace," he announced 
in a tone just short of challenging.
	
"All these soldiers as an escort? We're flattered."  

Iolaus' voice was flat and dangerous, and Hercules didn't have to look to know 
that his friend's hand had settled on his swordhilt.  
	
But nothing would be gained by taking on an army.   Now was the time to play the 
situation out and see where it led.  If it led back to battle, so be it, but 
until then . . . .
	
"We would be honored to meet the king," Hercules amended firmly.
	
Thalpus sniffed.  "Good. If you will follow me."
	
Wheeling his horse sharply, he started down the road, leaving Hercules and 
Iolaus without a backward glance.
	
Hercules took advantage of the time it took for the dragoons to reverse their 
direction to shoot a reassuring look toward Temeus.  The man nodded slightly in 
acknowledgment, but most of the worry stayed on his face. 
	
Thalpus was already halfway to the king's palace before the soldiers started 
their return march.
	
"Nice guy,"  Iolaus muttered.
	
"Good manners make good friends," Hercules quoted placidly and began to walk.  
	
Iolaus kept pace with him, but didn't look happy about it.  
	
"That must be why he brought the hired help."
	
Hercules hadn't missed the fact that they were now flanked on each side and 
behind by their 'honor guard'.  Manners were one thing, but apparently Naveus -- 
or rather Jeranis -- believed that twenty well-armed soldiers worked pretty well 
in their place. 
	
He had a point, too.

*

Scarcely ten minutes later, the retinue breasted the outer gates of the Pitan 
castle and half a dozen heartbeats later, Hercules and Iolaus were studying the 
main courtyard from the inside.  As the last soldiers cleared the spiked gates, 
three men swung the fortifying beam back in place.  The deep boom the wood made 
as it fell into its scarred metal brackets made it abundantly clear on exactly 
which side of the gate the visitors were standing.
	
Not the most auspicious way to begin a roust, but Hercules had managed with 
worse.
	
"Cozy,"  Iolaus remarked.  
	
From where they stood, Hercules could see a large archway that seemed to mark 
the entrance to the inner chambers of the castle.  Well-worn stone battlements 
spread out from the arch to encircle the main castle, and a pungent breeze 
suggested the existence of stables nearby.   Other than that, all Hercules could 
tell for certain about the castle was that it contained a hell of a lot of 
milling soldiers.
	
So much for the setting.  Now what about the lead players?
	
As if in answer to his thoughts, there was a movement from beneath the archway 
and a richly garbed party emerged.  Leading the group was a cherubic man, barely 
taller than Iolaus.  He walked with a gentle bearing that belied the thick 
councilor's chain that hung about his neck.
	
Jeranis.
	
At Hercules' side, Iolaus unconsciously loosened his sword in its scabbard; 
Hercules felt the same tingle of danger.  The councilor might appear angelic, 
but his face was hard underneath its baby-fat, and the heavy blade he wore had 
not been made for ornament. 
	
It had been made for killing.
	
Naveus, on the other hand, was a pleasant surprise.  Although his hair was white 
from age, his bearing as he strode behind Jeranis was erect, and his step as 
energetic as a far younger man.  His robes, though well-made, were far less 
elaborate than his councilor's. 

So what was the man doing letting Jeranis ruin his kingdom?
	
The two men and their assorted retinue came to a halt where the marble tiles of 
the inner castle met the cobbles and dirt of the courtyard.  
	
For a moment, Hercules felt Jeranis' gaze rake over him, then the councilor 
cleared his throat and formally announced the presence of His Royal Majesty King 
Naveus.  The obsequious overtone in his voice made Hercules' eyes narrow.    
	
The King stepped forward and bobbed his head casually at the assembled men.  
Then he focused on the newcomers.  
	
"Hercules, Iolaus, many are the tales that have reached us of your bravery,"  he 
intoned, then abruptly dropped his regal tone and sighed heavily.  "And have we 
got a problem for you!"
	
Another pleasant surprise -- a king who got to the point.  
	
"But first,"  Naveus continued, "I know it's a bit early, but I've had a dinner 
prepared for us.  That is, if you'd care for some refreshments?"
	
Hercules didn't have to look at his partner to know how much Iolaus appreciated 
the offer, and it sounded equally appealing to him.  Whatever was to come, they 
might as well face it with full stomachs.
	
"King Naveus," he said accordingly, "we were hoping you'd say that." 
	
"Excellent!"  
	
Apparently not one to stand on ceremony, Naveus motioned the men to follow him 
into the castle chambers.  The gesture, as well as the attitude which 
accompanied it, was markedly different from Thalpus and his troops, which meant 
that the guards were definitely collaborating with Jeranis.  
	
That wasn't  a surprise.
	
But why would a seemingly lively and intelligent man such as Naveus let his 
kingdom be usurped by Jeranis?   Once Hercules would have been hard pressed to 
come up with one such reason.  Now, unfortunately wise with experience, he could 
name dozens.
	
Shrugging slightly to himself,  Hercules started under the archway.  Iolaus 
followed, taking the opportunity to lean toward his partner.
	
"I like Naveus," he murmured.  
	
Hercules nodded.  "So do I."
	
A good man, but a trusting one,  Temeus had said. . . . 
	
"But just in case you were wondering, I don't like Jeranis."
	
As if on cue, Jeranis broke away from where he had been talking quietly with 
Thalpus and zeroed in on the heroes. 
	
"Is there a problem, my Lord?"  the councilor purred to Hercules, ignoring 
Iolaus.
	
::We'll see . . . .::
	
But Hercules only shook his head and fixed a determinedly polite smile on his 
face.  "No problem, and I'm not a lord."
	
"Of course not, my Lord,"  the councilor agreed.  "And now if my Lord -- and his 
friend -- would care to join the King?"
	
Hercules kept smiling. "Lead the way."  	
	
::I'll feel a lot better if you're where I can keep an eye on you.::  

*

Jeranis' nerves quivered as he showed Hercules into the dining hall.  The 
excitement of being this close to the commencement of Hera's -- of his  -- plan 
was unexpectedly intoxicating.  He wanted to laugh, to gloat, to kill old Naveus 
where the fool sat gossiping with that little friend of Hercules.  
	
Only years of practice enabled him to keep his face smooth and his voice calm.
	
But soon, so soon, there would be no need to hold back.  He could see each stage 
of the trap with perfect clarity, as if they were stepping stones across a 
river.   All he had to do was sit back and wait for the players to say their 
lines.
	
A pity, though, that the Mirror could not overpower Hercules.  Look at the man, 
power rippling through even his simplest moments.  What kingdoms Jeranis could 
conquer with that awesome strength at his command, if only Hercules' annoying 
tendency toward morality could be curbed!  
	
Hercules the slave would have so much more  ambition than Hercules the free man.  
	
But such speculation was worthless.  If Jeranis was to have his due, Hercules 
would be neither slave nor freeman.  He would be dead and rotting at the hands 
of Jeranis' men, or at the claws of the Karnae.  
	
It didn't really matter how the hero was dispatched.  As long as Hercules did 
his part first, Jeranis would still win.
	
Dinner lagged and Jeranis barely noticed the food he chewed.  Naveus' antiquated 
notion of good manners seemed to stop the old king from bringing up the Karnae 
until after the meal ended and the guests were sated.  But the men had already 
eaten an incredible amount and they were still going strong.  Iolaus especially 
ate like he had a hole in his stomach, although where he found time to swallow 
so much when he talked nonstop, Jeranis had no idea.  
	
As if prompted by Jeranis' thoughts, the blond-haired man directed a wink in his 
direction and reached for another leg of boar.  
	
Under the table, Jeranis' hand clenched.  The impudence of these men!  They had 
no rank, no grasp of politics, no conception of real power and yet they fancied 
themselves at ease in the company of kings!  
	
Hercules, who had so far contented himself with only an occasional comment, 
leaned over to Jeranis.  "He didn't have much breakfast."
	
Jeranis smiled and tried to force the ice out of the expression.  So Hercules 
had noticed his reaction, and no matter how courteous the 'hero'  acted, it was 
obvious that he didn't trust Jeranis.  He must have already heard the tales.  
	
Thalpus had acted tardily.  He would be punished.  
	
But now Naveus cleared his throat. . . . 
	
Sudden tension squeezed Jeranis' chest. 
	
So many stepping stones. The first Hephaestus, the second Hera and her Karnae, 
the third Hercules -- and now Naveus was setting up the last step toward his 
destruction with the blind innocence which Jeranis had always counted on.
	
"My friends," the old man began, "as I have hinted before, there is an ulterior 
motive in my pleasure at finally being able to meet you." 
	
Everyone in the dining hall turned toward Hercules.  
	
Who didn't look at all confused or angry.  Only interested.
	
Naveus nodded slowly.   "I see you aren't surprised.  Then I'll skip the 
introduction and get down to the details.  Almost three months ago, a monster 
entered the forest which borders our village and without provocation, began to 
attack my subjects."
	
"That's what we've heard," Hercules admitted, politely setting down his goblet 
in order to concentrate his full attention on the king.  "Do you know what kind 
of monster?"
	
"Kind?"  Naveus seemed confused by the question.  "Do you mean what type of 
creature is it?"
	
"Yeah,"  Iolaus clarified, his tone crisp and professional.  "Does it breathe 
fire? Or spit poison, or have more than one head or is it a giant or does it 
have wings or is it armor-plated or can it turn invisible or --"
	
"Iolaus, I think he gets the picture,"  Hercules interjected, and indeed Naveus 
was looking stunned that anyone could discuss such gruesome possibilities so 
calmly.  
	
The old man had always been soft when it came to death.
	
"I . . . there have been rumors, but no one has ever seen the creature and lived 
to bring word of its particulars,"  Naveus admitted.
	
Hercules frowned, eyes darkening.  "If you don't really know anything about this 
creature, how do you know that it needs to be driven away or killed?"
	
Jeranis frowned. This was not  how the conversation should be going.
	
"The beast murdered the king's son and nearly thirty other warriors,"  Jeranis 
stepped in quickly. "I think that qualifies it as a threat."
	
But Hercules would not be baited.  
	
"Wouldn't you fight back against people sent to kill you?" 
	
"It doesn't sound like you gave him much of a chance to be peaceful," Iolaus 
agreed, thoughtfully tearing a bread roll in half.
	
Naveus leaned forward, desperation shading his expression.  
	
"We tried!" he protested. "When the Karnae, as the villagers call it, first came 
to the forest I believed we could co-exist in peace.  But that was before the 
monster started devouring my subjects in their homes and farms! "  
	
The old man slumped at the recollection.  
	
Jeranis, too, regretted the necessity of so many raids on the village.  As a 
rule, he preferred to let the kingdom's subjects live to pay taxes, but Naveus 
had been so set on the feeble idea that, if left alone, the Karnae would not 
cause trouble, that Jeranis had been left no alternative.  If the old man had 
been more practical, some of those villagers would still be alive.  
	
Most, however, were well enough taken out of the picture.  Jeranis had worked 
too hard to have his plans complicated by subjects who got above their station.
	
Naveus took a deep swallow of wine and continued his story.
	
He spoke of the patrols he had sent out to protect the villagers and had 
consequently lost to the Karnae.  He mentioned the other patrols sent 
specifically to hunt the Karnae, and their  demise.  And then, the lines in his 
face deepening with every word he spoke, the old man explained how his own 
child, Sonocles, had led a final expedition to the cave where the Karnae was 
suspected to live.  
	
"That was a week ago," Naveus finished softly. "He hasn't returned.  He was only 
eighteen.  Now do you see why we need you?"
	
"We'll do what we can,"  Hercules said solemnly, laying a hand on the king's 
shoulder as if offering his strength to the old man.  On the king's other side, 
Iolaus signaled his own agreement and sympathy.
	
A breath of murmured hope rushed through the dining hall.  Naveus' blue eyes 
filled with tears and he could barely murmur his gratitude. 
	
The melodrama of the scene was almost sickening. 
	
Jeranis kept his face humbly thankful, but internally he was laughing 
uncontrollably.  
	
First the Karnae had secured his position, eradicating the threat of the 
villagers and Naveus' heir apparent and giving Jeranis a plausible excuse to 
restock Pita's standing army with hand-picked mercenaries. 
	
And thanks to the convincing pleas of Naveus, who only knew what Jeranis would 
have him know of the Karnae, Hercules' boot had left the riverbank and was 
resting on the first stepping stone of his doom and Jeranis' triumph.
	
In only a matter of days, Greece's most famous hero would be dead and Jeranis 
would be leading his personal army to conquer the neighboring kingdom of Hummus.
	
And after Hummus . . . all of Greece would be served to him on a platter. 
	
But now Hercules was speaking, telling of finding a girl in the forest.  A girl 
who had been pursued by palace guards that had then attacked strangers without 
any cause.
	
That idiot Thalpus!
	
Naveus' eyes were unusually steely when he turned to his councilor.  "Is this 
true, Jeranis?"
	
"A regrettable incident, my King," Jeranis said placatingly.
	
"Regrettable!" Naveus pounded the table with enough strength to rattle his 
golden goblet.  "That girl could have been killed!"
	
And that was when Jeranis saw the measuring look on Hercules' face and the 
echoing glint in Iolaus' eyes, and realized that he had underestimated the 
heroes.  Hercules must have known about the Karnae's attacks from the first -- 
no doubt the girl had told him -- and had only pretended innocence in order to 
measure Naveus' response. 
	
They had been testing the king.  Testing Jeranis.  
	
"The soldiers involved have been reprimanded," Jeranis told the table.  And 
beheading was a much quicker fate than they deserved!
	
Naveus frowned, still not ready to let it go.   
	
"A bad business, Jeranis," he muttered.  "Very bad.  See to it that it does not 
happen again."
	
"Of course, sire."
	
Jeranis whiled away the rest of the meal considering exactly how  he would have 
Iolaus killed after Hercules' death.  Perhaps -- he watched as the man snagged a 
final piece of pie -- starvation.  Or perhaps, sentimental as it was, the two 
friends would simply die together.  Or better yet, if they survived the Karnae, 
Jeranis could order Iolaus, under the influence of the mirror, to murder his own 
partner . . . .  
	
Ah, well.  The possibilities really were endless, but he had time to work out 
the details.  
	
Pushing aside his uneaten dessert, Jeranis stood and raised his goblet to toast 
to a better, brighter future.
	
And, he added in the privacy of his mind as the table repeated his words, to 
heroes who are far too heroic for their own good. 

*

Night had long since covered the forest in a dark shroud, but the Karnae could 
still see perfectly.  Not so the human approaching the cave; he held a smoky 
torch and even so cursed as he stumbled against roots and low-hanging branches.  
Twigs snapped like bones as he passed. 
	
The Karnae had easily recognized the smell of the human Jeranis and it was 
amused to listen to his inept fumblinsg.  So much as it could have dislikes and 
likes, the Karnae did not like this human and did not like being forced to take 
his orders. If Hera had not commanded the Karnae to obey, the human Jeranis 
would have been dead a hundred times by now.
	
As always, the human Jeranis stopped in the middle of the small clearing that 
ringed the cave, refusing -- or not deigning -- to enter the cavern.  
	
Perhaps he feared that the Karnae would mistake him for another human and kill 
him.  If he thought so, he was more of a fool than it suspected.  Or perhaps it 
was the Mirror that caused his wariness.
	
Reluctantly, the Karnae  uncurled itself and padded silently out to meet him.  
	
Their conversation was brief, but potent.  Afterward, the Karnae was too excited 
even to enjoy the retreating human's muffled expletives as the woods mastered 
him.  
	
By tomorrow, its wait would be over.  
	
It would be free and the Hercules would be dead.





CHAPTER FIVE

	
	
The sun rose the next morning to find the castle already up, for few were those 
who wanted to miss the historic onset of the Journey of Hercules and Iolaus to 
Save Pita.  The early hour meant that almost as many stifled yawns as cheers 
accompanied the partners out the castle gates, but despite Naveus' gracious 
offers of continued hospitality, Herc and Iolaus had opted to tackle the Karnae 
immediately.
	
The logic was obvious.  The sooner they stopped the beast, the sooner they could 
come back for Jeranis. Simple. 
	
In fact, the only problem that Iolaus could see was how to convince Derid that 
she should stay behind. 
	
The girl had appeared as soon as Herc and Iolaus were out of sight of the 
castle, bursting into the hushed and dew-pearled countryside like a miniature 
cyclone.  This morning her face was scrubbed spotless, her dress crisply 
pressed, her hair twig-free and her expression a mask of betrayal.
	
"But I want to come!" she protested.  "I promise I won't be any trouble."
	
Hercules hunkered down and shook his head slowly.  "Derid, it's too dangerous."
	
The girl slumped. 
	
"I knew you'd say that," she griped.  "Adults *always* say that."
	
Iolaus swallowed a chuckle as Herc fielded the accusation by pointing out that 
sometimes there was a good reason to say it.  And besides, they would tell her 
all about it  when they got back.
	
"You'll be the first one to hear the real story," Iolaus enticed.
	
The pout on Derid's face began to ease.
	
"But . . . ."
	
"It's usually not that exciting," Hercules assured her.  "But right now, we'd 
better get going."
	
Derid's lower lip trembled suddenly.  "You won't get hurt?"
	
"Not if we can help it," Herc promised, standing back up. 
	
"Don't worry," Iolaus added encouragingly. "We're professionals."
	
*

Once inside the woods, Hercules and Iolaus easily found the trail that led to 
the cavern in which Naveus suspected the Karnae lived.  The path was a winding 
avenue hedged on either side with thick brush and bracken and its narrow width 
confined the partners to single file.  
	
Iolaus didn't like the restrictions to their movements.  He also didn't like the 
way the forest felt subdued, the occasional sounds of birds or animals sounding 
muted and very far away.  Also the way Jeranis' inexplicably smug expression 
that morning kept returning to his thoughts.  But most of all, he didn't like 
the way Hercules, his borrowed sword and scabbard swinging uneasily at his side, 
was keeping to himself.
	
Not that that Iolaus was nervous and needed to talk.  It was just that the all-
encompassing silence was a bit  . . . grating . . .  and the journey would be 
the better for a little idle chitchat.
	
Or not.
	
It wasn't like Hercules to brood but when he did, it usually meant one thing.  
The same thing that made the back of Iolaus' neck itch with the certainty that 
they were being watched.  
	
Hera. 
	
What a bitch.
	
Up ahead, Hercules pushed a green-fingered branch aside so he could pass 
unmolested.  Although the branch was far above his head, Iolaus still 
reflexively ducked when the branch whipped back to resume its natural position.  
	
"Hey, watch it,"  he complained, dusting pine needles from his hair.
	
Hercules barely turned around.  "Sorry, Iolaus."
	
Watching the back of Herc's head with renewed concern, Iolaus forgot his 
irritation and left the trail so he could fall in step with his friend.  Almost 
knee deep in brush and ferns, he struggled to keep up with Hercules' long 
strides and still maintain his balance.  
	
"Herc, what's wrong?  You've barely said two words since we left the castle." 
	
"I've just been thinking.   
	
Iolaus leapt a fallen tree and nearly broke his ankle on a camouflaged root.   
	
"Herc, come on, it's *me*.  What about this bugs you so much?  The sword?"
	
Hercules shrugged wordlessly, but there was something of a nod in the movement.  
	

"It's not so much the sword, but what it represents,"  he clarified.
	
Iolaus scrambled through an over-large fern in what he hoped was a sympathetic 
manner. 
	
"Yeah," he said as soon as he had caught back up, "but we've had to take care of 
monsters before.  I mean, think of all the damage the Hydra was doing, or the 
She-Demon or the Stymphalion Bird.  Sometimes it's us or them."
	
"Maybe so,"  Hercules answered grimly.  "But I don't like playing the 
executioner -- even if it is necessary."  
	
Iolaus understood the sentiment.  He was always one for a good fight, but like 
Herc, he preferred to administer a sound rousting and let the law do the rest.  
Monsters were harder to arrest and rarely saw the error of their ways.  

But it never hurt to try.  After all, they had done it before.  

Braxis the adolescent dragon was now living peaceably with some cousins, the 
giant Mon was even learning table manners, and Echidna and Typhon were expecting 
their second child any time now. 
	
Whatever this Karnae was, it deserved the benefit of the doubt just as much as 
the others had.  Just because it was a monster didn't mean it was a *monster*. 
	
He said as much to Hercules while threading inbetween two bushes that had lost 
their load of fruit, but still clung to their thorns.
	
"After all," he added darkly, "I wouldn't -- ow -- put it past Jeranis to pay a 
few mercenaries for some dirty work just to explain the mysterious disappearance 
of the -- yeoch -- heir to the throne."
	
Hercules weighed the idea thoughtfully, then shook his head.  
	
"He's up to something alright, but Jeranis could have found an easier accident 
if all he wanted to do was get rid of the prince."  
	
"What if he wanted to get rid of us, too?  Or maybe Hera's created another 
Enforcer." 
	
Hercules' jaw was set and his eyes looked far beyond the forest path.  
	
"I only hope it's that simple."
	
 Now Iolaus was starting to get gloomy too, especially when Hercules' reaction 
proved that he had already considered the possibility that they were walking 
into a custom-designed trap.  
	
That was life for you.  Hercules, the world's nicest guy, ended up with dozens 
of people he had never met out for his blood.  
	
Not to mention the gods!
	
A small stream had decided to curve against the road before doubling back into 
the forest.  Iolaus realized this too late. 
	
"What really bothers me," Hercules continued over the splashing, "is that I have 
a feeling we're fighting for the wrong reasons.  Or maybe we're doing it for the 
right reasons but Jeranis wants it done for the wrong ones."
	
"We still don't know the full story," he finished, voice tight with frustration.
	
Ahead of them, the brush cleared abruptly, much to Iolaus' relief.  
	
"Maybe not," he said, stepping forward with increased optimism, "but I'm sure 
the truth is out ther--"  
	
Iolaus felt rather than saw Hercules reach out a hand and catch him.  The rest 
of his attention was focused on the sheer drop that had suddenly opened up in 
front of him, just to the right of the trail.  
	
It was a very long way down.
	
"But what if we discover it too late?"  Herc countered.
	
Hanging helplessly by his vest in his friend's grip, Iolaus watched the stream 
splash merrily down the straight-drop below his dangling feet.  A drop of water 
from the boot he had soaked in the stream bounced off a rock forty feet below.   
	
"I see your point,"  he said and swallowed hard.
	
Barely straining, Hercules swung his friend back to solid ground. 
	
"So we're agreed," he said as Iolaus collapsed against a tree. "Whatever 
happens, we wait until we have cause before we act."
	
"Right,"  Iolaus quavered.  "Sure thing."
	
Herc clapped Iolaus' shaking shoulders and smiled for the first time that 
morning.  
	
"Then let's go."
	
Iolaus stared after his friend.  Sometimes the man just wasn't mortal.
	
But at least he was in a better mood.
	
*			

Even forewarned of  arrival of the Hercules and the other, the Karnae had to 
strain to hear them coming.  They had no rattling chainmail, heavy-stepping 
horses, or as with the human prince, trumpets that sounded like brass birds and 
hurt the Karnae's sensitive ears. 
	
Now those instruments were as silent as the prince.  
	
The Karnae had wished to eat that one, for he had been young and tender.  But he 
had found the Mirror before the Karnae had found him amidst the other humans 
with their swords and arrows.  And after the Mirror had taken a human, the flesh 
tasted . . . wrong.
	
So the boy stayed, living but not living, like the others.
	
And the Karnae waited.  
	
But now the Hercules was coming!  

The thought produced a new rush of excitement and bloodlust.  The Karnae would 
kill the Hercules and eat the other, and then it would have its freedom and the 
human Jeranis for play.
	
Two men could do nothing to it.
	
Listening warily to the progress of the humans, the Karnae padded from its 
cavern and crept up the rock face until it was perched over the cave's entrance.  
Satisfied that its position had every advantage, the Karnae concentrated . . . .

 . . . and turned into stone.  
	
At first, the transformation had been a long, arduous process, but now the 
Karnae could melt from rock to a living, fighting thing in seconds.  With this 
body, crossbows posed no threat, and while swords might chip, it could be moving 
and killing before the metal sticks vould do any real damage.  
	
In its stone state, the Karnae could see, hear, even think.  The processes 
worked more slowly, but there was no need for speed in stone.  And once the 
Karnae returned to flesh, it had all the speed it needed.
	
As always, the Karnae fought as its bodies dictated.
	
And this was a  good body. 
	
The Karnae  smiled -- a line cracking through granite -- and settled down to 
wait until its supper and its destiny came into sight.  	

*			

The clearing looked perfectly innocent.  Even the cave lodged in the rock cliff 
which formed the base of the grassy semi-circle, seemed no more threatening than 
any ordinary rock formation.
	
Nothing moved.  Beyond grass and flowers, there was no sign of anything living.
	
But Hercules had learned long ago that few appearances could be trusted. 
	
"What do you think?" Iolaus whispered, dubiously studying the line of sunlight 
that marked the end of the tree growth in front of them.
	
"I think we should be careful," Hercules suggested, directing Iolaus to go right 
with a tilt of his head.
	
The two partners briefly gripped forearms in a mutual wish of good luck.
	
"I'm always careful," Iolaus declared brightly, flagrantly ignoring countless 
examples to the contrary.  Then he peeled away like a slightly scratched and 
damp ghost.
	
Hercules sidled in the opposite direction, slipping around trees and brush with 
a silence that belied his size.  Careful not to be trapped by dry sticks 
underfoot, he worked his way around the perimeter of the clearing, stopping 
every minute or so to listen for unusual sounds.  There weren't any.  
	
To his right, Iolaus had already been swallowed by the early morning shadows. 
	
The borrowed sword scabbard slapped against Hercules' leg as he ducked low to 
avoid a cobweb-quilted branch.  The unfamiliar movement reminded him that this 
day was being judged by concealed rules.  Well, he would do his best to break 
them, and avoiding using the sword would be the first step.
	
Which wasn't to say that Hercules didn't understand the convenience of swords. 
During his travels, he had certainly been forced to wield a blade on occasion.  
But those had usually been for protection, defense, when someone or something 
was trying to seriously inconvenience him.  
	
He just had never carried one.  Carrying one now was common sense, and he might 
soon be very grateful to have such protection.
	
But he didn't have to like it.  
	
Or to use it. 
	
Just as Hercules reached the target point where cliff, trees and grass 
converged, a soft bird call issued from the opposite side of the clearing.  
Iolaus was in place as well.  Hercules sent back an answering call and scanned 
the clearing for a final time.
	
Still nothing there.
	
But all his instincts said there was. 
	
Ready for anything, he stepped out of the trees onto grass and flowers.  Across 
the clearing, Iolaus mirrored the movement.  Both men kept their swords 
sheathed; a naked blade was no way to demonstrate a preference toward pacifism.  
	
Cautiously, the partners inched toward each other.
	
The woods were silent.  Even the breeze had stopped. 
	
But nothing happened. 
	
By the time they met in front of the cave, Iolaus had already lost much of his 
defensive posture.  
	
"Looks like nobody's home," he shrugged. 
	
"Iolaus--" Hercules began.
	
Iolaus had already disappeared into the cavern's darkness, once again 
demonstrating his warped definition of 'being careful.'  Before Hercules could 
haul his friend out, the blond man re-emerged to report that the cave extended 
into a tunnel inside, but he couldn't see anything unusual.
	
That didn't do anything to calm Hercules' instincts.
	
 "So where's the Karnae?"
	
 "Maybe it's out hunting," Iolaus suggested.
	
In a way he was right.  
	
As easily as breathing, the Karnae turned to flesh and sprang toward Iolaus' 
exposed back.  
CHAPTER SIX




The Karnae had meant to break the little human's spine before he noticed its 
presence, but this man was quicker than it had expected.  While the Karnae was 
still aireborne, he spun on his heels to face the attack, denying the Karnae a 
quick kill.
	
The human's sword was out, but the Karnae hit him in the chest before the blade 
could become dangerous.  The impact  slammed the little man to the ground and 
his sword went cart-wheeling wildly over his head to plunge into a tree a mere 
hand's breath from the Hercules.  
	
But there was no time to watch the Hercules' reaction.  
	
The little human was being difficult.  Instead of screaming like the others, he 
grabbed one of the Karnae's forepaws in each hand and pushed them away from his 
head.  

His face showed the strain, but the maneuver succeeded in keeping the Karnae 
from slicing open his chest and throat.  
	
Growling soundlessly to itself, the Karnae lifted a black leg to gut the human, 
but the little man had thought of that as well.  His feet kicked out, pressing 
against the Karnae's back knees until its legs were spread so far apart that it 
could barely stand.
	
For the moment, the combatants were at a stalemate.  But Hera was waiting for 
the Hercules and the Karnae was eager to satisfy its master.  
	
This human was nothing.
	
Ignoring its stymied claws, the Karnae settled for simply crushing the life out 
of the little man.  Sinking down against him, the Karnae let its body edge 
toward stone.  Its tonnage doubled, then tripled. . . . 
	
It felt something like irritation as the human began to gasp. This method of 
killing would undoubtedly leave the man bruised and unpalatable --   
	
 And then the Hercules moved.

*	

Squashed underneath the Karnae's bulk, Iolaus' head rang with the tune of earth 
against skull.  Sunbeams sparked off the creature's knife-blade teeth.  He 
strained to find breath, searched for the leverage to roll the cat to one side 
or better yet, use his feet to flip the thing over his head.  
	
But the beast was *heavy*,  and seemed to be growing more massive with each 
passing second.  He'd have better luck trying to shift the Parthedon.
	
Sweat ran down his face in rivulets.   
	
"Is this . . . cause . . . enough?"  he panted to the unseen Hercules and hoped 
the answer would come before his ribs gave out.
	
Hercules had already made up his mind. 
	
"I'm satisfied,"  he assured his friend.  
	
Taking a firm stance in front of the opponents, he pulled his hand back to his 
ear.  Then his fist surged forward to clout the Karnae against its jaw.   

Eyes widening with surprise, the creature tumbled backward head over heels 
across the clearing to slam into the rock to the left of the cavern. 
	
Hercules pulled Iolaus to his feet and displaying an ear nicked by his partner's 
free-wheeling blade, handed over the lost sword with a touch of asperity.   
	
"I think you lost this."	
	
"Thanks," Iolaus wheezed, pressing a hand to his side protectively.  "Too bad I 
left my catnip in my other vest."
	
Reflectively, Hercules flexed his bruised hand.  
	
"I don't think catnip is what its planning to have for dinner."
	
"You had to remind me." Iolaus grimaced.
	
Then he looked past Hercules.  "Uh-oh, here it comes again." 
	
Sure enough, the Karnae had recovered from its stunned surprise and was already 
bounding toward Hercules, glittering claws aimed directly for the heart.
	
The sight was enough to send any normal person running.  Hercules, on the other 
hand, didn't back down an inch.  

He tossed Iolaus his borrowed sword.  
	
"Hold this, will you?" he asked, eyes calculating. 
	
Then he lunged forward with precise timing, ducking under the Karnae's deadly 
claws to place both hands against its stomach.
	
Spitting soundlessly, the Karnae tried to twist in mid-air to rend its prey.
	
But Hercules heaved, adding his strength to the beast's already considerable 
momentum.
	
The Karnae hurtled forward helplessly, finally colliding with the upper branches 
of a tree at the edge of the clearing.  Then weight told, and the beast fell in 
a stunned tangle to the ground amid a confusion of breaking wood, torn leaves 
and peeled bark.  
	
Slowly, Hercules came up from his crouch.
	
"That was like shotputting a mountain!" he grunted. 
	
Iolaus traced the length of one bruised rib and winced. 
	
"Tell me about it. What is that thing?!" 
	
"I don't know, but it must eat a lot of iron."
	
It was also quite durable.  Already the Karnae had regained its feet, shaking 
its head angrily while its tail whipped the fallen leaves into a mini-cyclone.
	
Hercules eyed the beast thoughtfully, weighing options in his mind.  Then he 
clapped Iolaus on his shoulder. 
	
"Iolaus, I need you to draw its attention."
	
Iolaus stared at his friend.  
	
"You mean you want me to be *live bait*?" he spluttered.
	
"Just be ready to duck when I say so."
	
"Wait a minute--" Iolaus held up a postponing hand suspiciously  "Why don't 
*you* draw its attention and I'll do whatever you're going to do?" 
	
Hercules smiled fleetingly. 
	
"Because." He plucked his sword from Iolaus' grasp. "You're not tall enough."
	
Iolaus shot one very eloquent look at his partner, but allowed himself to be 
pushed forward without further protest.  He had been trusting Hercules with his 
life for more than twenty years now, so why stop now?  
	
Just as long as he'd get another chance to make the same decision.
	
"Puss puss puss . . . here, kitty kitty kitt . . . ."
	
The words died in his throat as the Karnae sprang toward him like a bat out of 
Tararus.  Every tooth and claw promised his irrefutable death.
	
"Uh, Hercules . . . ?"
	
"Just a second, Iolaus," Hercules said. 
	
"Sure, take your time. . . ." 
	
The world had shrunk.  Now it only contained Iolaus and the creature coming at 
him with bloodlust and hatred in its hard green eyes. 	
	
" . . . But now'd be real good!"
	
"Almost there . . . ."
	
Another agonizing second.
	
"Hold it . . . ."
	
And another. 
	
And ano--
	
"NOW!"
	
Iolaus hit the dirt.	
	
As he flattened, Hercules leapt over his head, tucking into a mid-air somersault 
that turned into a roll as he touched ground.  Landing head up and sword out, he 
thrust upward  and the blade slammed smoothly home into the Karnae's heart.
	
The beast rolled its eyes and opened its jaws in soundless rage. Then it 
dropped.  
	
And didn't move again.
	
After a long moment, time reasserted itself and Iolaus picked himself up.  
Brushing off grass and dirt from his arms and chest, he joined Hercules by the 
body.    
	
"Good plan," Iolaus admitted.
	
Hercules looked at the dead monster with a mixture of grim satisfaction and 
regret. 	

"Thanks.  It just came to me."  
	
He swung his arm experimentally, then made a face as his strained shoulder 
muscles protested the movement.
	
Iolaus' eyes narrowed.  "Wait a minute, what if it hadn't come to you?"
	
Mood lightening suddenly, Hercules turned from the Karnae and clapped Iolaus 
across the shoulders. 
	
"You would have thought of something," he teased. "Now, let's see if there's 
anything else in that cave."
	
He still held the blood-stained sword.  But that part of this encounter was over 
now.
	
Hercules tossed the weapon to the ground.  It had done its job.
	
He wouldn't need it again.   	
		
*

And somewhere in the misty realm between life and death, the Karnae smiled in 
anticipation.
		
*
	
The entrance to the cavern was wide enough for six men to walk abreast, and more 
than twice as high.  The walls and ceiling glistened unnaturally smooth.  
Perhaps with enough time, the corridor could have been excavated by humans and 
the walls leveled, but to Hercules, the cave screamed of a god's interference.
	
The question was: which god?  
	
He hoped he didn't know the answer.
	
Just ahead of him, Iolaus fanned his hand in front of his face.  The movement 
was barely visible in the gloom. 
	
"We could use some light," he suggested.
	
"Good idea," Hercules agreed. 
	
 He bent over a pile of fallen rocks and after a moment fished out the tattered 
remains of a leather-bound torch.  
	
"Voila." 
	
"Not bad," Iolaus applauded.  "Someone else must have gotten past the Karnae."
	
Hercules weighed the torch thoughtfully. 
	
"*Almost *  past is how I'd put it."
	
"Good point."
	
After Hercules had scraped one of his armshields across the largest of the 
fallen boulders, creating enough sparks for Iolaus to light the torch, the pair 
proceeded down the passageway.  
	
Despite the light, the cavern showed no discernible end.  Dark simply pooled 
into deeper shades of gloom.  Even the ground underfoot was black.  Almost 
preternaturally cold sand swallowed even the sound of their footsteps.
	
The journey down the corridor was a silent and eerie one, but Hercules was 
familiar with eeriness.  He wasn't as used to absolute silence -- who could be 
with a partner like Iolaus? -- but the lack of sound didn't truly disturb him.  
It would just make it that much easier to detect anything that was worth 
hearing. 
	
Beside him, Iolaus held the torch higher in an effort to make the pale 
illumination carry farther.  The unsteady light refracted in odd angles off the 
unbroken ceiling and pearl-smooth walls.  Everywhere else, the darkness just 
seemed to double.
	
"Nice place to visit," Iolaus commented. 
	
Instead of echoing in the vast emptiness, his voice sank into the darkness, the 
sounds barely forming before they were gone. 
	
"I wouldn't want to live here," Hercules agreed. 
	
Now a sign that something had chosen to live in the cavern pushed into the 
light.  A dozen paces before them, heavy shadows spreading out from the confines 
of the passageway indicated the sudden absence of rock.  But right in front of 
them, the light was caught by the a jagged pile of rubble trickling from a deep 
gash in the otherwise silken wall.  
	
Nothing natural could have cut such a wound in the stone.
	
Silently, they stepped over the rocks. 
	
"Looks like it opens up ahead," Iolaus said.  
	
Unconsciously, Hercules squared his shoulders. "Then let's go say hello."
	
"To *what *? And do I want to know?"
	
Leaving the question unanswered, the partners stepped into the main cavern.  It 
was huge, easily large enough to hold twice the population of Pita, and the 
smooth walls and ceiling amplified the sense of infinite, desolate, space. 
	
But what really caught the attention of Hercules and Iolaus was the shrine that 
stood against the far wall of the cavern. 
	
Or rather, the mirror in an ornate silver frame that sat on top of the shrine 
and gleamed strangely in the faint torchlight.
	
Or rather, it was the two dozen men standing motionless in front of the shrine 
that drew their eyes.  
	
Each man seemed to be staring at the mirror. 
	
Hercules cleared his throat.  "Hello?"
	
Only silence answered him. 	
	
But the men he could see appeared to be breathing.  Very sluggishly, but their 
chests did move. . . .
	
Iolaus stepped up the nearest motionless figure, a swarthy man who could have 
been brother to any one of Jeranis' mercenaries.  The man's clothing was several 
years out of date. 
	
"Excuse me," Iolaus said, tapping the man politely on the shoulder.
	
There was no response. 
	
Hercules sensed chaos in the making.  
	
"Uh, Iolaus . . . ."
	
Iolaus ignored Hercules' half-warning.
	
"Coo-ee?" he tried again. 
	
Nothing.
	
He moved around to shine torchlight on the man's slack face. 
	
Nothing.
	
He poked the man lightly in the chest.  Nothing.
	
He waved a hand in front of the man's unblinking eyes --
	
And the mercenary uttered a thin, inhuman wail and collapsed into dust.
	
Iolaus gave an incoherent shout and jumped backward into another man who rocked 
with the impact, then toppled slowly to the ground. 
	
As he fell, he, too, moaned a wild, knife-edged cry.  He was dead and half-
rotted before he hit the ground, but the death-sound reverberated in the air 
much longer.
	
"That was unusual," Hercules observed in the following silence. 
	
Infinitely careful not to touch another body, Iolaus shakily rejoined Hercules.
	
"Herc, I don't know what just happened," he said a little greenly, "but 
'unusual' doesn't even begin to cover it."
	
Hercules was thinking of his mother.  Alcemene loved jigsaws, although when 
Hercules was younger, he himself had rarely had the patience for them, and and 
now rarely had the time.  But Alcemene would sit for hours by the fire or on the 
porch and put piece to piece, connecting tiny clues to form the big picture.
	
For instance, take a cavern, men, an altar . . . .
	
"I think," Hercules decided, "we'd better take a look at that mirror. But--"
	
Iolaus stopped in mid-step.
	
"--carefully."   
	
And then they heard the footsteps. 


	

CHAPTER SEVEN




King Naveus crept down the hallway that linked his bed chambers to the Royal 
Room of State.  It was the time of day that Jeranis and his physicians had 
designated as a 'rest period,' but Naveus had run out of writing paper and was 
using the lack to justify his excursion.  He needed writing paper and nothing 
more. . . .
	
But there was no way to get around it.  Jeranis was cloaking a bid for the 
throne with  false concern for the king's health.  The rest periods were simply 
a convenient excuse to keep Naveus cloistered away while Jeranis arranged 
matters of state to his personal satisfaction. 
	
It had taken too long for Naveus to admit Jeranis' treachery to himself, but the 
villagers had finally opened his eyes.  In the last few months, now that he knew 
to look, he had found examples of Jeranis' manipulation and deceit everywhere.  
	
Such as increasingly frequent Royal orders which Jeranis had purposefully 
misunderstood, bypassed or simply over-ruled.  New taxes that were levied 
minutes after Naveus had ordered the old ones cut.  Thalpus, that immoral thug, 
had been hired without any consultation.  And the ranks of the Pitan standing 
army kept increasing, despite the fact that now that the Kingedoms of Hummus and 
Pita were at a tenative peace, Naveus had expressly ordered the number 
diminished.  
	
After all, Pita wasn't at war!
	
Not yet.
	
Already Naveus hardly knew the castle's staff.  His old, trusted servants had 
somehow all disappeared, deciding to move out of the kingdom or meeting with 
mysterious accidents.
	
And how soon would it be until Naveus himself went the same way?
	
When Hercules and Iolaus returned -- Zeus willing -- from slaying the Karnae, 
Naveus was determined to tell them everything.  He would have done so 
immediately upon their arrival, but Jeranis had never allowed Naveus a moment 
alone with the heroes and the king had held back for fear of the soldiers.  
	
He had since conquered that fear.  What was good for Pita was more important 
than his personal safety, which was currently only tenuous at best, and he would 
speak the truth no matter the consequences.  There could be no more waiting.  
	
It was clear now that he should have acted long ago, should have put away his 
foolish, blind trust and faced the hard facts.  
	
But there had always been some reason to put off the confrontation.  Difficult 
relations with Hummus, a poor season of crops, a hard winter . . . . all that 
time spent grappling with ordinary problems while Jeranis bored his way into the 
lifeblood of the kingdom.  And then the Karnae had come, and Naveus withered 
while Jeranis thrived on the insecurity and fear the monster's presence created. 
	
Naveus still loved his subjects and craved peace and prosperity for his kingdom, 
but he had awakened one day to discover that he had only the most slender grasp 
on the power necessary to ensure these things.  Everything was so close to lost, 
all through his own naivetŽ. 
	
If only his son could be with him. . . .
	
As always, tears came with the thought.  Sonocles, who had never trusted 
Jeranis.  Who had been so young, so idealistic and yet clever and courageous at 
the same time.  So very like his mother.  
	
He would have made a very fine king, if only. . . .
	
Naveus approached the Room of State.  
	
His room, and yet his heart still pounded as he checked both directions down the 
corridor.  
	
If he was caught . . . . A king caught spying at his own door like a beggar . . 
. . Would that his grandfather had built secret passages and spyholes like any 
sensible king!  Alas, simplicity and straight-forward thinking seemed to run in 
the family.
	
But perhaps there was still time to repay his blunders.
	
He eased his ear to the door. 
	
"Thalpus, I want you and a dozen of your best men at the cave."
	
Naveus could hear surprisingly well -- if he regained his kingdom he would have 
to see about soundproofing this chamber -- but even so he barely recognized 
Jeranis' voice.  The man's voice was hard and pitiless, completely unlike the 
fawning purr to which Naveus was accustomed.  It sounded like honed steel.
	
"What do you want us to do?"   
	
That was Thalpus, his voice still brutal, if more grudgingly respectful than 
when he addressed the king.
	
"If Hercules and his little friend do not manage to kill the Karnae, then report 
back to me; they will be of no further use to us." 
	
"But you don't think they'll fail?"
	
"No."   
	
Naveus pictured his councilor's face stripped of its usual ingratiating simper 
and instead cold, dispassionate, imperious.   It was less difficult than he 
would have wished.  
	
"Hercules has defeated creatures of Hera's design before,"  Jeranis continued.  
"I see no reason why this one should be different.  And if the Karnae is 
defeated, it falls on you to bring Hercules and the mirror back to me.  I'd 
prefer him alive, and Iolaus as well.  If Hercules proves difficult, holding his 
friend might help convince him to cooperate." 
	
"I understand, my lord."  
	
So did Naveus, all too well.  Hera!  By Zeus, he had never suspected that even 
Jeranis would be so blindly ambitious. As for what Jeranis meant by a mirror, 
Naveus could only assume it was part of some under-handed perfidy.
	
Hercules must know.
	
"Is there anything else, lord Jeranis?":
	
"Yes . . ."
	
Cold sweat beading his brow, Naveus leaned closer to hear Jeranis' final 
instructions.
	
"Bring me Naveus.  I'm afraid the king has just been struck seriously ill."
	
For a man of almost seventy, Naveus could still move quite nimbly when the need 
arose.  Even so, Jeranis' men caught him before he had more than half-saddled 
his horse.
	
Perhaps it was better that Sonocles had died when he did, as he did, Naveus 
thought despairingly as the soldiers dragged him out of the stable.  The 
prince's death was a far nobler one than Naveus' promised to be.
	
And despite the panic and hopelessness that squeezed his heart, the usurped king 
spared a moment of regret for the fates of Hercules and Iolaus.
	
Just what dire straits had he led his friends into?
	
*		
	
The footsteps were really more like *footfalls*.   Heavy, resounding, footfalls 
that conquered the silence of the corridor and echoed grimly through the murk.   
Each step shook the very ground, stirring up dust motes that tumbled teasingly 
through the light of Iolaus' torch.  
	
These were the steps of something very large.  Very large and probably very 
angry.
	
Needless to say, they were coming closer. 
	
Instinctively, Hercules and Iolaus moved to stand back-to-back, putting the 
corridor to one side and the silent bodies to the other.
	
"Any idea what that is?" Iolaus asked.  
	
His sword was out, and Hercules thought briefly of the blade he had left 
outside.  
	
"I don't know," he said.  "But it sounds big."
	
"Thanks. That helps a whole lot."
	
More steps.  One, two. Three. Four.
	
Close. Very close. 
	
"Herc--"  The light suddenly flared wildly as Iolaus shifted.  "Do you see 
anywhere I can stick this torch?" 
	
Attention not straying from the corridor, Hercules nodded toward the nearest  
inert body.  "How about our friend here?" 
	
Iolaus made a queasy-sounding noise at the suggestion, but inched carefully over 
to the silent man and pried the sword from his hand without further comment.  
The weapon, time-scoured and black with age, hit the ground with a hollow sigh.
	
The footfalls came again, like tombstones falling.  
	
One. Two, three.  Four.
	
Grimacing slightly, Iolaus slid the torch into his man's emptied fist.  When the 
body remained silent and showed no signs of dissolving, he took up his place at 
Hercules' back again. 
	
Thum THUM, went the feet.  Thum THUM.
	
"You know, nobody said anything about having to fight *two* monsters," Iolaus 
complained.
	
"It could be a coincidence," Hercules suggested, knowing that conversation was 
just his friend's way of working through nerves. 
	
Temeus had said the Karnae was a shapechanger, but it had certainly died back 
there.  There was no doubt about that.  

Was there?
	
"I thought you didn't believe in coincidences."
	
"I don't."
	
THUM. The torchlight rocked. THUM.  Sand bounced.  THUM.
	
A shadow, dark on dark, loomed at the edge of the cavern, just beyond the reach 
of the flickering torch.  Hercules readied himself, felt Iolaus tense at his 
back.
	
One more step . . . .
	
THUM.
	
And it entered the light.
	
The creature was huge, a four-legged, lizard-tailed, crocodile-snouted 
monstrosity.  Head barely fitting under the towering cavern ceiling, it regarded 
the partners with rolling, orange eyes. 
	
"That," Hercules had to admit, "is one ugly monster."
	
"Yeah." Iolaus forced a chuckle.  "What could it do to us?"
	
Incinerate them, as it turned out.
	
Iolaus had barely uttered the question when a blazing fireball from the deepest 
flames of Mt. Aetna surged out of the creature's mouth.  Seconds later, it 
exploded red-hot into the sand, the heat warming the soles of Hercules' boots 
even as he dove out of the way.
	
Where it hit, the sand fused into glass.
	
Coughing a little from the rising smoke, Hercules leveled a stern glance at 
Iolaus as the other man clambered to his own feet on the other side of the low-
burning fire.
	
"Iolaus, never say things like that." 
	
"Right, sorry," Iolaus called back, fanning smoke from his eyes.
	
And then the fight was on.  
		
*

The Karnae was never even-tempered after a bodychange, but this time it pulsed 
with rage.  It was time to finish this infuriating game; against this body, the 
Hercules had no chance.
	
Speed and agility, the advantage of surprise, these it had possessed in its cat 
shape. Those abilities had failed.  Now, Hera had chosen a body built for pure 
flame and power.
	
Enjoying that strength, the Karnae beat its heavy tail against the ground and 
watched the little humans -- they were both little now -- stumble as the force 
of its blow caused tremors throughout the cavern.  
	
The Hercules yelled sounds, and prompted by his hated voice the Karnae felt 
again that strange new feeling rise in the pit of its stomach.  A hot, spiteful 
emotion and more than that -- a physical heat, a very real heartburn . . . .
	
Taking a deep breath, the Karnae opened its flat mouth and, almost delicately, 
blew another ball of fire at the humans.  And another. 
	
The humans dodged, but they could not dodge forever.  
	
The Karnae smiled as best it could.  The Hercules had killed it once and now it 
was time to repay the favor. 
 
*

"Split up!" 
	
The words were instinctive rather than necessary.  
	
Even as he spoke, Hercules threw himself sideways, saw a flash of color as 
Iolaus dove in the opposite direction. 
	
Then the fireball hissed past.  Another miss.
	
But not by much.
	
Iolaus was back on his feet and heading toward the creature's exposed stomach 
before the fire-glare had fully died from Hercules' vision.  
	
"I'll go around back," Iolaus called, already half swallowed by the darker gloom 
of the corridor where most of the creature's body still stood.
	
Hercules let his partner go and stayed at the creature's head, watching for any 
opening to do . . . something that he would think of any minute now.  He 
crouched low and waited for the inevitable opportunity to do something useful. 
	
In the meantime, he got more fire.
	
He dove again, and again the fireball went high, but this time instead of 
ploughing into the sand, the fire caught the dusty sleeve of one of the silent 
standing bodies of the cavern.  The man began to burn merrily, showing no 
discomfort as the flames licked up his arm and over his chest.
	
Wild new illumination spun across the smooth walls of the chamber. 
	
Hercules tumbled himself back to his feet and moved beyond the standing bodies 
where there was more space to maneuver.  
	
The creature followed him with slow, lumbering steps.  Its fire, or at least its 
aim, must have a limited range, then.  And it learned from experience: the next 
fireball came so low that Hercules had to jump straight up to avoid it burning 
his legs off. 
	
Two more bodies provided complacent fodder for the hungry flames.  
	
Hercules peered through the thickening haze, trying not to cough at the stench 
of burning flesh, and began brainstorming. 
	
*

The smell was better where Iolaus was, although thick coils of foul-smelling 
firesmoke were beginning to find their way to the corridor.  He did his best not 
to think about the fuel that must be generating that smoke, just kept hugging 
the wall until he reached the creature's treetrunk-thick rear legs.  
	
Iolaus waited a heartbeat, then sword gleaming bloodred in the gruesome 
firelight, stepped forward and swung the blade with all his might.  
	
The blow should have sheared through the half the beast's hind leg, but it 
didn't.  It didn't even make a scratch!   Instead, the sword hit the tough skin 
and rebounded with a dull thunk like one piece of wood hitting another.
	
The force of the kickback swung Iolaus full around and he had to run to catch up 
as the creature advanced on Hercules.  This time he tried the thing's stomach, 
which rumbled with strange fires far above him. 
	
Planting his feet firmly and getting ready to dive out of the way of whatever 
that belly contained, Iolaus hurtled his sword straight up into the tender skin.
	
Not tender enough.
	
Once again, the sword ricocheted back, this time nearly plunging through Iolaus'  
own foot as it fell to earth.  He jumped aside and the blade half-buried itself 
in the sand. 
	
Up ahead, the Karnae hesitated for a moment at the minor discomfort, then 
returned to the business of trying to burn Herc alive.
	
Iolaus swore, pulled up the blade and dodged back to the safety of the corridor 
wall. 
	
"The skin's too tough," he yelled through the smoky gloom to where he thought 
his partner stood. "Swords are useless!"
	
And then the smoke billowed like canvas and the creature's tail sailed through 
the murk to hit him like a Titan with a grudge.  
	
The impact sent him flying across the corridor into the opposite wall.  Stone 
met skull and then for Iolaus, the shadows of rock blended with the shadows of 
unconsciousness; and although Herc didn't know it, for the moment he was on his 
own.
	
*

Hercules hit the ground hard to avoid yet another fireball, twisted up to evade 
a second, and borrowed a shield from a smoldering body to dispel a third.  The 
shield melted immediately under the fiery barrage -- no help there -- and he 
tossed it aside with singed fingers. 
	
"We don't mean you any harm," he called into the growing inferno.
	
A body standing in front of him went up in flames.  
	
Hercules sighed. That wasn't the answer he had been hoping for.
	
The monster's orange eyes were only separated from the flames by their height 
and its tail beat the walls with a heavy rhythm.  The cavern shook.
	
Crouching back into what remained of the shadows, Hercules coughed, wiped sweat 
and smoke from his eyes, and found an idea.  Not quite as good as a whole plan, 
but it was a start and would hopefully keep him alive long enough to figure out 
the rest. 
	
Squinting against the acidic smoke, he searched the swirling, hellish murk until 
he found the glint of silver he wanted.  It was far, but not impossible. 	
	
"Okay, here goes . . . ."
	
Athletic games had not yet seen fit to add a category of 'best sprint over sand 
under threat of incineration,' but had the event existed, Hercules would have 
won the title in a walk.  Lungs aching with sulfurous oxygen, feet barely 
touching the ground, he shot across the distance.  Like fiery footprints, 
fireballs exploded into the sand barely seconds behind him.
	
Then the altar swam into focus and without slowing, he pushed off and dove 
forward, landing with reasonable grace behind the pale marble.  Fire roared over 
his ducked head to scorch a black starburst on the cavern wall.
	
Yep, this creature definitely needed to be stopped.  No question about it.
	
Gratefully inhaling the cleaner air of this corner of the cavern, Hercules 
settled down to formulate something concrete.  And tried not to wonder where 
Iolaus was in all of this.
	
A quick glance over the altar showed the creature had lumbered a few steps 
closer, toasting each body in its path.  Despite the amazing stream of flames it 
was steadily producing, it showed no signs of needing to stop and recharge its 
internal furnace.
	
"It just keeps going and going," Hercules groaned to himself, sinking back down 
to the shadow-cool sand. 
	
Energized by Hercules' brief appearance, the creature blew a ring of flames that 
hit the marble dead on and flowered out around it.  But even the hottest fire 
couldn't melt marble.  For a few minutes, anyway.
	
Well, his mother always said he worked best under pressure.
	
But there was pressure and there was press--
	
And then he had it. Oh, it was a long shot, but Hercules had spent his life 
making long shots come through.  He was famous for it.
	
And he had been around long enough to recognize a mirror of the gods when he was 
crouched in mortal peril behind one.

*

The Karnae wanted to scream in frustration and fury. The Hercules was supposed 
to burn, to die.  He was not supposed to hide where the Karnae's flame could not 
reach him.
	
But the stone that protected the Hercules' weak body	was growing black and 
cracked, and as the marble crumbled at the edges the Mirror teetered and --
	
And was gripped by two half-mortal hands and pulled down behind the altar. 
	
The cavern rang with death keels from a dozen throats as the mirror disappeared 
from view.  Weak, stupid humans.  How the Karnae hated them.
	
But it hated the Hercules much more.
	
And then the object of its loathing stepped into the open.  Instantly, the 
Karnae flamed, an incandescent burst of bile surely hot enough to vaporize even 
the son of Zeus. The was no way the Hercules could escape this time. 
	
The Karnae snarled in triumph --
	
-- then flung its head back in shock as tthe fire refracted off the Mirror's 
surface and nearly burnt its own nose off.    
	
The Hercules started forward, still holding the Mirror in front of him like a 
shield.
	
As it well was.
	
The Karnae wanted to howl.  Instincts warred with common sense; every fiber of 
the Karnae's programming begged to watch the flesh of the Hercules scorch and 
crackle, but with the Mirror, he could turn any fireball back against its 
creator.   
	
The Hercules advanced purposefully, never allowing the Karnae a chance to flame 
at him without hitting the Mirror.  But now the Karnae found hope: once the 
Hercules walked far enough past its head, he would be vulnerable again and --
	
The Hercules had thought of this as well.  Already he had dropped the Mirror and 
was running directly underneath the Karnae's belly.  Sand flew from his boots.
	
Heedless of the danger of singing its own legs off, the Karnae bent its awkward 
neck and sent a jet of flame surging after the Hercules.  The fire covered the 
distance in heartbeats.
	
But once again, the Hercules was faster.  
	
He passed the Karnae's hind legs and grabbed the tip of its tail just as the 
Karnae realized what the fireball would do to that tail.  Instinctively, it 
snapped the tail up.
	
 And suddenly felt feet on its spine.  
	
The Hercules had ridden its tail to its back. 
	
The Hercules was on it and moving!  The Karnae felt footsteps across its back 
and then up its neck, on the head and over; and the Hercules slid down to land, 
head-first and splay-legged, over the Karnae's very mouth!
	
With difficulty, the Karnae focused its eyes on the impudent human resting on 
its snout.  Then it threw him off. 
	
Or tried to.

*

There was quite a view from the creature's nose.  
	
Below Hercules, the cavern spread out in swirls of muddy orange flame, brighter 
concentrations of yellow-white marking still-burning bonfires.  The seething 
conflagration made the walls glow and warp with heatwaves.  It was an 
extraordinary scene, but not exactly comforting. 
	
Especially when you were watching it from the face of a monster who wanted you 
singed to a handful of ash.
	
The creature tossed its head and the cavern swooped.
	
Hercules redoubled his grip on the underside of the creature's crocodile jaw and 
squeezed with the entirety of his inhuman strength, locking the snout shut.  His 
legs clamped over the mouth closer to the thing's head and stretching to his 
full length, he had managed to position his armshields over the creature's small 
nostrils.  The gauntlets, made in the fires of Hephaestus' forge, closed off the 
nostrils with fire-proof implacability. 
	
Hopefully, the creature was now unable to flame or breathe.  At least that was 
the idea. 
	
Not one of his most fully formulated plans, actually. 
	
But too late to worry about it now.
	
Not unexpectedly, the creature protested its treatment with extreme prejudice 
and while Hercules' position had not been exactly comfortable to start with, it 
became infinitely more unpleasant as the beast began to shake its head in a wild 
effort to dislodge him.  Hercules and the snout moved up, dipped down, slid to 
the right, twisted to the left, then shimmied around like a dog after a swim. 
	
And to top it off, the snout was growing increasingly hot from the flames that 
were trying unsuccessfully to escape from the creature's mouth.  But Hercules 
hung on grimly.
	
The creature's mighty tail began to beat against the walls, causing great 
fissures that split into sharp rains of stone.  Hercules held on.  The snout's 
movements redoubled feverishly, blurring the world into a smear of shadow and 
fire.  Hercules held on.  Wisps of smoke began to curl from the creature's ears.  
Hercules held on. 
	
The heat of the skin below him was starting to scorch his clothing. 
	
"Now I know how bacon feels," Hercules grunted.
	
And held on. 
	
*

Consciousness visited Iolaus reluctantly, bringing with it a bouquet of white-
hot lights.  	

With a groan, he pushed himself up from the cavern floor and tried to organize 
his thoughts, which were mainly: 
	
Where was the creature?  Where was Hercules?  What was going on?
	
The only answer he got was that damn tail coming at him again so quickly he 
didn't have time to move.  It hit, there was another extreme close-up of the 
wall and once again his vision cracked into painful pieces. 
	
Iolaus felt himself spinning, felt himself falling into darkness.
	
Then once again, he didn't feel anything at all. 

*

The Karnae was suffocating.  Black currents bled across its eyes; its ribs ached 
with the need to breath and its mouth burned with it own fire.  
	
It tried to gather its vanishing strength to slam the Hercules against . . . but 
somehow it was sinking to its knees . . . tried to get up . . . it fell to one 
side . . . tried to concentrate its anger and need to destroy . . . now it was 
sprawled full-length on the sand . . . and then its head hit the earth as 
blackness won once more. . . it felt the pure light of Hera burst through its 
physical components . . . and then for a space there was only void. 
	
So it was the Karnae died a second time. 
	
	
	
		
	

CHAPTER EIGHT




It was very quiet. 
	
Coughing, Hercules pushed himself up from the sand where he had fallen when the 
Karnae toppled.  
	
"Wow, what a ride," he muttered.  
	
He shook his head; a mistake.   The movement sent his vision spinning in lazy 
circles, even as the after-images of the monster's brilliant death still glowed 
hot behind his eyeballs.  And yet it had seemed more light than fire. 
	
Rubbing soot from his eyes, Hercules slowly scanned the smoke-clouded cavern.  
There wasn't much to see, just patches of erratic light from the last of the 
low-burning bodies.  The Karnae had combusted without leaving so much as scraps.
	
Something glinted by his feet, reflecting the light of the dying flames. 
	
The mirror. 
	
Cautiously, Hercules reached out and picked up the silver-framed looking glass.  
It was deceptively heavy, not ornate but beautiful, with smooth lines that 
flowed like water.  A master's master blacksmith had crafted the frame and the 
glass itself . . . .
	
 . . . the glass . . . .
	
Hercules looked deeply into the smooth surface.  There was a shimmer at the edge 
of his vision.
	
And then he was somewhere else. 

*

Hate burned bright in the part of the Karnae that could not be vanquished while 
there was still the essence of a complete body to reconfigure.  Despite its 
twofold death, fear was an unknown emotion, as was love or sorrow.  All Hera had 
given it was hatred and perpetual life. 
	
Both qualities were being given a hefty workout today. 
	
The Karnae floated in nothingness, alone and yet wrapped inside Hera's control.  
Images of shapes -- undersea and oversea creatures with talons, fangs, stingers, 
wings --  appeared and disappeared as Hera searched her fearsome imagination.  
Then the bodies faded and a single likeness crystallized in the void next to the 
Karnae.  
	
Hera had chosen its new form.
	
This figure sharpened into perfect definition, then wavered as it encountered 
the Karnae's essence.  The two halves merged. 
	
Sinews snapped and bones cracked as the change took hold, but the Karnae found 
pleasure amid the pain.   The Hercules had twice humiliated it in front of Hera.  
Surely with this shape he would pay for that.  
	
He would pay for everything. 
	
There was a flash of light -- 
	
-- and as the distant, mocking cry of a ppeacock faded into the background, the 
Karnae opened new eyelids, flexed new muscles, and stood up from the cavern's 
floor. 
	
It saw the Hercules immediately, sitting cross-legged on the sand with his face 
blank from the magic of the mirror.  
	
White teeth gleamed as the Karnae laughed silently.  The Hercules had once used 
the Mirror against the Karnae, now he had unknowingly used it against himself.  
He was trapped and helpless and the Karnae could finish him and in this new body 
continue Hera's work in the mortal world.  
	
Its newly booted foot hit something cold and smooth and it looked down.  The 
little human's sword.  Excellent. 
	
The Karnae flexed unfamiliar fingers and picked the weapon up. 
	
Time for the Hercules to die. 
	
*

Hercules gazed into the thick black void around him.  "Hello?"
	
The sound of his voice was almost startling in the soft blackness.  If this was 
one of Hera's tricks . . . .
	
"Where am I?" he asked.
	
Nothing mortal answered. 

*

Judging by the silence, Iolaus figured he had missed most of the excitement.  
There seemed to be a lot more rocks around in the cavern, too, and a lot less 
ugly monster.  That was usually a good sign.   
	
"Herc?" 
	
There he was -- Iolaus squinted through the dwindling smoke -- sitting head down 
and studying something he held. But next to him was a figure that ---
	
--was also Hercules.	
	
What in Tartarus? 
	
Iolaus' mind raced, thoughts jumping from assumption to assumption: two Hercs 
meant one fake one.  Iolaus had learned that lesson well enough with Proteus the 
shapechanger.  A shapechanger? Wasn't the Karnae supposed to be a  . . .  
supposing . . . but that would mean the thing couldn't be killed.  Or at least 
couldn't  *stay* killed. 	
	
That was impossible. Wasn't it?  But for the gods and their creations impossible 
was a foreign word.  And three different enemies, one after another, when there 
was supposed to be only one was too much of a coincidence. 
	
So say it was a creature just really difficult to kill.  Iolaus had seen enough 
during his travels to accept the notion, and to know that there would be an 
angle. 
	
That's how the gods worked.  There was always an angle. 
	
The trick was finding out what it was. 
	
So start with the basics.  Like  . . . which Hercules was the real one?
	
Probably the one lifting Iolaus' sword high overhead in preparation to split the 
sitting Hercules down the middle. 
	
Uh-oh. 
	
"Hercules, watch out!"
	
The standing Hercules hesitated, glancing toward Iolaus with a very unHerculean 
snarl on his lips.  The sitting figure -- Herc, it must be -- didn't even twitch 
at the warning.
	
No time to wonder why. 
	
No time for anything but a wild tackle that sent Iolaus and the creature 
tumbling head over heels past Hercules and into the darkness of the cavern's far 
end.

*

Sequestered in the unreality of the Mirror's world, Hercules studied the woman's 
face that had soundlessly appeared in front of him.
	
It was beautiful in a smug, smirking way. 
	
"A mirror," Hercules sighed.  "I should have known."
	
He crossed his arms.  "Hello, Aphrodite."
	
The goddess continued smiling radiantly but didn't bother to respond to his 
greeting.  Hercules' foot began to tap impatiently. 
	
"Aphrodite, this isn't funny."
	
Aphrodite kept smiling; larger than life, perfect, and unyielding. 

*

Iolaus rolled like a wagon wheel, trying to regain control of his momentum, 
trying to break his sword from the Karnae's grip.  But fighting this version of 
the Karnae was exactly like fighting the real Hercules.  The beast might not 
have the same moral fiber, but right now all it really needed was Herc's 
strength.
	
The Karnae gave Iolaus a taste of that power now, bringing its free hand down to 
catch him a blow that sent lights exploding through his vision.  Iolaus fell 
back, rolled out of arm's reach and scrabbled for a handful of the cavern's 
sandy floor.
	
His throw sent the black grit directly into the Karnae's face.  The beast 
snarled soundlessly in pain and flung away Iolaus'  sword to tear at its eyes 
with both hands.  So it had mortal weaknesses; that was encouraging.
	
Seizing his momentary advantage but not daring to waste time scrambling for the 
sword, Iolaus hopped to his feet, pivoted and kicked.   His heel drove hard into 
the Karnae's stomach and the beast winced.  
	
Iolaus kicked again.  This time he caught the thing in on its lowered jaw and 
the Karnae's head snapped to the side, long hair flying. 
	
It straightened immediately  and grinned at him. 
	
He tried a leap that caught the Karnae's shoulders in a leg grip and sent both 
of them sprawling to the ground.   
	
But the Karnae recovered too quickly.  Before Iolaus could clear himself from 
the tangle, the thing reached out with an iron grip, dragged him up, and heaved.
	
Suddenly Iolaus was flying. 
	
He hit stone hard.  The Karnae seemed pleased, collared him before he could get 
his breath back, and threw him again.
	
It seemed a favorite trick of the Karnae to slam him into walls, but this time 
Iolaus was ready for it.   He hit the stone with a shoulder that would hurt like 
Tartarus tomorrow, but managed to twist as he slid downward and land on his feet 
a good five yards from where the creature stood. 
	
So far, so good.  But how far did so good go?
	
Not very far. 
	
The Karnae had shaken off the best he could give like it was a sneeze and the 
thing wasn't even breathing heavily.   Iolaus, on the other hand, was already 
bruised, winded and mildly concussed. 
	
The game began in earnest. 
	
The Karnae lunged.  Iolaus ducked, twisted, punched hard.  It barely blinked and 
again struck out, this time doubling him over. 

 Another blow and Iolaus flew backward. Slammed into cold sand.  Scrambled back 
to his feet.  Stepped forward to try another punch with the same ineffectual 
result.  Ducked the Karnae's response.  Retreated.  Kicked.  Kicked  Punched.  
Punched again.  Swiped at the thing's knees.  Kicked.
	
Then it was the Karnae's turn and Iolaus went down in a stunned heap.
	
The creature pursued and when the next flurry of activity was over, the Karnae 
had its hands tight around Iolaus' throat.  
	
"This . . . settles it . . ." Iolaus wheezed.  "The vacation . . . is definitely 
. . . over."
	
And maybe his life was as well.  
	
Bad thought.
	
Lungs tightening with the need to breath, Iolaus stared into Herc's eyes gone 
mad and hoped like Prometheus in Tartarus that his wildly groping hand would 
find his abandoned sword before he lost the ability to do anything constructive 
about this situation. 
	
*

The mirror hit the sand with a muted thud.  
	
Hercules blinked, put a hand to his pounding head, and tried to gather his 
thoughts.  
Foremost among the scattered impressions was that whatever Jeranis was planning, 
it had to involve that mirror.  
	
His head gave an extra twinge at the reminder.
	
Now what had been going on before . . . ?
	
He remembered the creature just as Iolaus trotted into the fading firelight.  
His friend looked tired and a little disoriented, but otherwise unhurt.
	
As if surprised to see Hercules, he stopped.		
	
Hercules walked to him.  "Iolaus, how are you?"
	
Iolaus scrubbed a rueful hand through his curling hair, then glanced past 
Hercules questioningly to where the mirror lay face down on the sand. 
	
"I wouldn't if I were you," Hercules cautioned.  "It's some kind of portable 
mini-shrine to Aphrodite and judging from the men in here--" he gestured at the 
smoldering remains of the bodies "--it doesn't seem to agree with mortals."
	
Iolaus shrugged disinterestedly. 
	
"Those creatures must have been standing guard over it," Hercules continued, 
thinking aloud. "It's strange, they don't seem like Aphrodite's style.  I wish 
we could have talked . . . to . . . them."
	
But they had never spoken.  Either one of them.  Throughout the fighting, 
neither beast had made any kind of sound. 
	
Not once. 
	
Feeling Hercules' attention, Iolaus half-turned and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
	
"I think we'd better get out of here," Hercules said carefully.  "Leave the 
mirror for now."
	
Obliging, Iolaus nodded.  His knees were covered in sand, but he didn't bother 
to brush them off. 
	
"And I have a feeling we shouldn't go back to Pita," Hercules continued.  "After 
all, our work here is done."
	
Iolaus shrugged again.  
	
No protests, no questions, no mention of Jeranis. 
	
Hercules made his decision
	
"You know what they say--"
	
He stepped past Iolaus and grabbed his sword before the smaller man could move.  
And then, before he could change his mind, Hercules swung.
	
"Third time's a charm," he finished as the body hit the ground.
	
The silence crept back.  
	
Hercules watched the corpse of his best friend and waited.
	
Then breathed out in relief as the shape of Iolaus shivered and thrashed into a 
dozen, two dozens monstrous figures of all descriptions.  But while the body 
could change into Harpies, seabeasts, Hydras and worse, it couldn't grow another 
skull.  
	
Finally, the blur of gruesome shapes slowed and collapsed into a mound of 
delicate green peacock feathers.  Hercules checked where the head had rolled, 
and the brillantine purple-blues of a peacock eye glared at him from a single 
feather. 
	
"Hera," he growled under his breath.
	
And leaving the remains of creature in their final resting spot, he went to find 
the real Iolaus.  
		

		



CHAPTER NINE




Derid was supposed to be picking out material for a new dress to replace the one 
she had ruined running from the soldiers.  Her mother had made it very clear 
that Under No Circumstances  was she to follow Hercules and Iolaus into the 
forest.  Even though it was probably her only  chance to see real-life heroes at 
work and they liked her and she knew that if she only had the chance to prove it 
she could be useful to have around.
	
But to be useful to have around, she first had to *be* around.
	
It all boiled down to the same thing.  She was a child and being a child meant 
you never got to do anything interesting.  Even Hercules had said it.
	
But he hadn't ever said anything about not watching.
	
No one had to know.  She would be quiet and not get in anybody's way unless 
Hercules or Iolaus needed her.  And then wouldn't it be lucky for everyone that 
she had come after all?
	
Besides which, it wasn't as if it could be dangerous.   The Karnae was only one 
little monster and that couldn't be any problem for *Hercules*,  especially if 
he had Iolaus to help him.  What could possibly go wrong?
	
So she had ducked out of the back way of the dress shop and was currently racing 
toward the Karnae's cave and hoping she hadn't missed all the action.   In fact, 
she was so busy worrying about her late start that she never even noticed the 
fresh hoofprints in the soft dirt of the trail.
	
There were a lot of them.  
	
They were headed in the same direction as she was. 
	
*

Hercules and Iolaus walked across black and cinder-strewn sand toward the 
corridor that led to the outside world. 
	
"So I grabbed the sword and used it," Iolaus explained with the proper dramatic 
gestures. "But the Karnae must've knocked me out before it died and when I came 
to. . . ."
	
He didn't bother to mention his momentary panic when he had opened his eyes to 
find Hercules standing over him, but instead changed the subject as another 
thought struck him.
	
"Hey, it's not still around, is it?  I mean, you stopped it, didn't you?"
	
Hercules didn't look at him.  "It's stopped.  How are you feeling?"
	
Something about Herc's tone made Iolaus suspicious.  "I'm fine," he said.  "So 
what happened?"
	
"Happened?"
	
"With the Karnae?"  Hercules was definitely hiding something.
	
Slowly, Herc bent down and retrieved Iolaus' sword from the sand.  
	
"No matter what shape the Karnae took, it never made any sound," he explained 
with elaborate casualness.  "So when it turned into you and you didn't say 
anything, I knew you were an impostor and--"
	
Not bothering to complete the sentence, he tossed the sword back to Iolaus.
	
Instinctively, Iolaus caught the blade and sheathed it, but his mind was still 
stuck on two particular details of his partner's narrative. 
	
"The Karnae turned into me . . . and you *killed* it?"
	
Hercules sighed.  "I didn't think you were going to like that."
	
"You killed me," Iolaus repeated, disbelief and reproach mixed equally in the 
accusation.  "Herc, the first rule of partnerships is that one friend does *not* 
kill the other friend." 
	
"Well, you killed it when it looked like me."
	
"Yeah, but I had proof!  You just had a hunch! What if it had been me and I just 
didn't feel like talking?"
	
A grin just under the surface of his expression, Hercules put a consoling hand 
on Iolaus' shoulder.  
	
"Iolaus,"  he said with mock solemnity, "you *always* feel like talking."
	
Iolaus was debating whether or not to be insulted by the comment, when his foot 
hit a metal object half-buried in the sand.
	
"Whuh?"
	
Perpetually curious, he bent down to investigate.  
	
"Hey, Herc, look at this."	
	
As he brushed aside black sand, dying firelight flickered harsh red against the 
surface of what looked like that mirr--
	
Hercules' boot thumped down over the object.
	
"That's not a good idea," he advised.
	
"Huh?  It's just that mirror from the altar," Iolaus protested, glancing up at 
his partner for elucidation.  "What's the big deal?"
	
Herc's foot stayed in place.  "Trust me."
	
Iolaus narrowed his eyes.  Mysterious and dangerous usually meant: "Hera."
	
"Yes and no. . . ." 
	
Hercules had almost finished recounting his experience with the mirror and the 
Karnae when a sound, faint and ghostly in the immense cavern, floated out of the 
growing darkness.
	
"Herc--!" 
	
Iolaus tensed, sword snapping out as he whipped around.  All he saw was 
Hercules, up and ready for action, his yellow shirt a muddy smudge in the 
blackness.
	
"I heard it," Hercules agreed.  "There's someone alive here."
	
"Oh, great."
	
The sound came again, low and weak, and in a moment, they saw why.  And who.  
Even in the murk, even with the difference of fifty years, the resemblance to 
Naveus was unmistakable.
	
"Prince Sonocles?" 
	
Iolaus looked up from the recumbent body to meet Herc's equally amazed glance. 
"But the king said he was dead!"
	
"I think," Hercules said thoughtfully, "that for mortals, Aphrodite's mirror is 
almost the same thing.  Wherever I was inside that mirror, time didn't work the 
same way it does out here. And there was a part of me -- my mortal side -- that 
wanted to stay in there.  Forever."
	
"So why did Sonocles survive breaking contact with this other 'world'?" 
	
Hercules frowned.  "He was only under for a week, so he still had a living body 
to come back to.  The others weren't so lucky. "
	
The young man lying unconscious in front of them certainly didn't look lucky.  
His eyelids were blue veined, his skin colorless and his body stick-thin under 
rich -- though dusty -- clothing.  Iolaus had to strain to see the chest 
movement that proved the prince still breathed.
	
Now it was Iolaus' turn to frown.  Enchanting mortals through everyday items was 
a favorite tactic of Aphrodite's, as he knew all too well, but it didn't sound 
like the goddess to create a spell that was ultimately lethal for her admirers.  
Morality nonwithstanding, it also wasn't very practical for a goddess whose main 
goal in life was the accumulation of the most worshippers of all the gods. 
	
Sonocles didn't react when Hercules checked his vital signs.  Neither did he 
make another sound; whatever strength had allowed the moans had apparently been 
exhausted. 
	
Iolaus hunkered down next to Herc and the prince.  "How is he?"
	
"Dehydrated and he could use food and some clean air.  But there's something 
more."
	
The beginning of anger gathering in his expression, Hercules climbed back to his 
feet.  Iolaus stood as well, because he wasn't about to carry on a conversation 
staring at Herc's kneecaps. 	
	
"I've seen this condition before," Hercules continued.  "Sonocles' spirit isn't 
certain if he's dead or alive, so it's trapped in a sort of limbo on the Other 
Side."  
	
Iolaus groaned.  "You mean Tartarus?" 
	
Although his memories of the actual instances were foggy, he had, technically, 
died on three separate occasions during the past few years, and while Herc had 
managed each time to get him back with no strings attached, mention of the 
underworld still made Iolaus a bit edgy.
	
It was definitely no place for a kid like Sonocles.
	
"Is there anything we can do?"
	
"Maybe. But first--" Hercules pulled out the mirror.  "We get rid of this."	
	
Holding the glass against his left forearm, Herc brought his right arm up and 
then *down*  against the glass.   

A low thrum Iolaus could feel through his boots as well as in the air rolled 
through the cavern.  It was followed by a shrill crack that reverberated from 
wall to ceiling to wall like a scream.   Several small boulders were jarred 
loose by the vibration.  The mirror's glass tumbled to the ground in knife-edged 
shards.
	
There was power in that mirror.  Power of the gods.
	
And Iolaus couldn't help wondering if anyone on Olympus would mind its 
destruction.
		
*
	
In Hephaestus' forge deep inside the caverns of Mt. Aetna, a sunbeam blinked on.
Hephaestus sat up in bed.
	
"Gah, where's the fire?" Aphrodite asked sleepily, lifting a hand to shade her 
eyes from the sudden light.  "It's gotta be like only the middle of the 
afternoon !"
	
Hephaestus frowned. "Remember that mirror I had trouble with a while back?"
	
"Yeah, so?  It wasn't one of my better angles."
	
"Someone just broke it."
	
Aphrodite yawned disinterestedly.  "So what's the big deal? You've got the real 
thing now."
	
Hephaestus ignored the pose she struck and shook his head distractedly.  "This 
could be serious."
	
Aphrodite rolled her eyes.  "Whatever. And quit hogging all the sheets."

*	

The mirror's empty frame clattered to the ground amid shards of glittering 
glass.	

Hercules' face wrinkled with pain and he massaged his arm through the armshield.
	
"Boy, I've got  to stop doing that," he muttered.  Then: "Iolaus!"  
	
Iolaus looked up innocently from the fragment of glass he had been studying.  
	
"Seems okay to me," he said cheerfully, ignoring the look Herc threw at him.  
"So what's next?"
	
Hercules brushed tiny slivers of glass from his hands.  They fell like frozen 
rain to the sand.  "There's someone I need to talk to."
	
"Okay, let's go."
	
"Actually, Iolaus, I think it would be better if you stayed here."
	
"What?"  Iolaus crossed his arms and glared at his friend indignantly.  "Herc, 
come on, we're a team!  Where I go, you go and where you go, I go and where . . 
. " and then he realized just who Hercules was planning to have a chat with.  
	
Hades.  
	
That was different.  And dangerous, even for the legendary Hercules.  
	
But Herc knew all the arguments, and he had the determined glint in his eyes 
that Iolaus had learned to recognize long ago.  
	
"Okay," Iolaus said diffidently, drumming his hands against his thighs.  "I 
guess I'll stay here.  You know, clean up, that kind of thing.  Put out the 
fires, take Sonocles outside, maybe get something to eat: nuts, maybe some 
berries. . . ."
	
"Iolaus," Hercules interrupted, "I kind of have to concentrate for this."
	
Iolaus took the hint and shut up while Herc drew in a deep breath and shut his 
eyes.
	
"HADES!"
	
An eyeblink later, without so much as knocking a grain of sand out of place, 
Hercules was gone.
	
The process always disappointed the dramatist in Iolaus.  No clap of thunder, no 
lightening bolts, just one minute Herc was there and then poof! empty space.  
	
Probably dramatics were an option but Hercules just opted out. 
	
He was that kind of guy.
	
He also hadn't mentioned how long he would be gone.  And Iolaus really was 
hungry.   Breakfast had been three or four life-and-death situations ago. 
	
Iolaus checked on Prince Sonocles again -- there was no change -- and then 
started to pick his way through the charcoal heaps to take care of the last 
lingering fires.  Safety first. 
	
He heard the sound before he had even reached the first still-smoldering body.
	
This time, it wasn't Prince Sonocles.
	
Very slowly, Iolaus turned toward the darkness around the mouth of the cavern. 
	
"Hello?" 
	
The only answer was a different sound, this one easily recognizable as the 
crunch of sand beneath boots. 
	
But who else would be here?
	
He thought about it.
	
Oh. 
	
Trying not to sigh, Iolaus readied himself for another fight..  
	
Of course, it could be . . . . 
	
 "Herc?" he asked without any real hope.
	
And then the men stepped out of the shadows.
	
"Not," Thalpus said, "quite."

*

After Iolaus had been subdued, Thalpus directed his men to scour the cavern for 
every shard or sliver of the mirror's broken glass.  He himself searched for 
clues to where the meddlesome Hercules had gone, and what had happened to the 
Karnae. 
	
His men were more successful than he; they filled a smooth leather bag with the 
pieces of the mirror while he determined nothing.  Surely Hercules could not 
have simply left?  As for the whereabouts of Hera's monster, it must be dead if 
Iolaus was still alive.  Perhaps it had actually fulfilled its purpose and taken 
Hercules to the Other Side?
	
The thought prompted a harsh chuckle which in turn caused his swelling eye to 
redouble its throbbing.  Thalpus probed the bruise gingerly and swore at its 
tenderness.  Once Hercules's little friend regained consciousness at the castle, 
he would pay for that injury.  
	
"Is the prisoner bound yet?" Thalpus snarled and when the answer came in the 
affirmative, he ordered Iolaus to be taken outside and tied onto one of the 
packhorses they had brought along to serve just such a purpose
	
Thalpus felt a warm sense of satisfaction as he watched two soldiers drag Iolaus 
across the sand.  Jeranis might be disappointed that they had not found 
Hercules, but they did have the mirror and Iolaus.  If the great Hercules was 
still alive, then he would come after them soon enough.  
	
Jeranis could worry about the details. 
	
The men had also found discovered the body of Naveus' son in the cavern, but 
Thalpus had left the boy untouched.  There was no need for a royal funeral; Pita 
had a new king now.  And come to think of it, that pretty much made Thalpus the 
new prince. 
	
Smiling, he turned to leave but an unexpected glint from the ground near his 
feet stopped him.  Although the nearest torch was several yards away, Thalpus 
could clearly see the single green peacock feather.  It seemed to wave gently 
toward him.   
	
Curious, he picked it up.   It was surprisingly heavy and almost warm to the 
touch.  
	
Just like the others.
	
But Thalpus had no time for feathers and trifles.  He had a prisoner to deliver, 
an army to prepare, villagers to intimidate and traps to arrange.  It was going 
to be a full day.
	
Tossing the feather toward the pile from which it must have come, Thalpus strode 
toward the corridor. 
	
"All right men, back to the horses," he called.
	
The soldiers followed eagerly.  No one wanted to linger in this drunken 
graveyard of a cave, where the corpses of corpses sprawled in ashy smears across 
the unnaturally cold, black sand.  It was much better to be out conquering 
countries in the healthy, open air.  Much better by far.
	
The last flicker of light before the men left fell over the heap of peacock 
feathers. They lay all neatly piled against one another except for the one stray 
frond which still lay apart, the lacy frills around its glittering eye almost . 
. . almost . . . touching the rest.
	
So close.
CHAPTER TEN




The first few heartbeats were always disorienting.  It was only you after 
remembered that you still *had*  heartbeats, that things settled down.  
	
Hercules remembered, blinked, and took a deep breath of 'air'.  It felt musty 
inside his throat, a tangible threat.  Too much of that air and even Hercules 
wouldn't be able to return to the real world.  But he ought to be gone long 
before that became a problem.

He looked around.  The room around him was large but made almost comfortable by 
lavish decorations, dozens of throw pillows and soft wall rugs of deep warm 
colors interwoven with gold.   
	
It was obviously one of Persephone's new waiting rooms.  Hercules recognized her 
touch.  
	
Hades was content with dank stone and a few dim hangings, and he saw no reason 
why the spirits who came to Tartarus should want anything more.  Persephone, on 
the other hand, felt that a few creature comforts would help ease the transition 
for the souls into the afterworld.  She wanted Tartarus to be a friendly, cozy, 
sort of place.
	
And when Persephone wanted something, Hades made sure she got it. 
	
On Earth, the six months that Demeter's daughter spent in Tartarus with her 
husband were filled with bleak winter as the goddess of the Harvest  sulked.  On 
the Other Side, however, things got decidedly more pleasant as Persephone's 
presence turned Hades almost congenial.  Nowadays, everyone knew that if you 
wanted the most lenient after-death judgment, late Autumn, when Persephone was 
fully moved back in, was the best time to Cross Over. 
	
Unfortunately, this was late summer and Persephone had been with her mother for 
almost half a year.  Which meant that Hades would be in a really bad mood.
	
As if summoned by the thought, Hades himself swept into the room, crimson cape 
fluttering around the black armor he customarily wore.
	
"Whatever it is, Hercules," he said without preamble,  "I don't have time for 
it."  
	
"Hades--"
	
The god held up an impatient hand.  
	
"I run a business here, not a lending library," he snapped.  "You can't keep 
checking people out of death just because you happen to like them."
	
The expression on Hades' surprisingly young face made it clear that he couldn't 
imagine *any* human worth that amount of trouble.  
	
With difficulty, Hercules held onto his temper.  Hades was a decent man, for a 
god, but spending an eternity administrating to the dead had left him with a 
distinct lack of people skills. 
	
"Hades, I just need to find someone," Hercules said evenly. 
	
The god didn't give an inch.  "You know it disturbs the spirits when I let you 
romp around down here, Hercules."
	
"The sooner you help me, the sooner I leave," Hercules countered, folding his 
arms implacably 
	
"Do you know how much trouble you caused me last time when I let you take back 
Iolaus?"
	
"Let?"  
	
Hercules stared at the god.  The way he remembered it, he had nearly ended up in 
Tartarus *with* Iolaus, trying to meet Hades' conditions by beating Hera's 
Enforcer by sundown.
 	
Under Hercules' reproving glare, Hades hesitated and rubbed his forehead 
distractedly. 
	
"Hercules," he sighed, "now just isn't a good time.  The Spartans are on the 
move again, I'm in the middle of some major renovations and Demeter  says she 
won't let Persephone come back for another month!"  
	
So that was what was bothering him.  Despite the pressure of time, Hercules' 
sympathy rose at the god's predicament.
	
As petulant as Hades could act, he truly loved Persephone, which was why 
Hercules had gotten involved on his behalf when Demeter had refused to part with 
her only daughter.  The couple had finally triumphed, but Demeter still hated to 
be parted with Persephone and was forever trying to postpone her trips back to 
Tartarus. 
	
"I thought she only had another two weeks to go," he said aloud.
	
"She should!"
	
Looking no more godly than any thwarted lover, Hades thumped a table.  "Demeter  
says that last winter was so hard that she owes  it to the people to have a 
longer summer. And *of course*,  as much as she wants to, she just can't be 
inspired without her daughter."  
	
The table rocked under another clout.
	
"It *was* a harsh winter," Hercules suggested.
	
This time the table crumpled into kindling from the force of Hades' blow.  
	
"As if she didn't make the winter like that just so she'd have the excuse to 
keep Persephone!" he growled. 
	
That was probably true.  Gods might have unbelievable powers, but they also 
never had to worry about consequences, which meant their acts were usually petty 
and selfish.  As Hercules and the other humans of Greece knew all too well.
	
Suddenly Hades' cool demeanor evaporated and he leaned close to Hercules with a 
hopeful expression.
	
"Hercules, would you talk to her?"
	
Hercules shrugged.  "I might be able to  get her to knock off a week or 
something.  But first . . . ."
	
"Okay, okay," Hades gave in under Hercules' expectant stare.  "What do you want 
here?"
	
Hercules allowed himself a smile.  This was more like it.
	
"Iolaus and I just fought a shape-changing monster," he said as a preface to his 
question. 
	
"The Karnae?"  Hades shook his head.  "That's one of Hera's freaks, isn't it?"
	
"In spades.  But that's not why I'm here.  The Karnae was guarding a mirror that 
somehow entrances humans into worshipping Aphrodite so entirely that even after 
their bodies die, they keep living to worship."
	
Hades nodded knowingly, not seeming to share any of the revulsion Hercules felt 
for such a fate.  "Oh, that, right.  I've had dozens of spirits popping in and 
out of here for years because of that thing."  
	
He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on his chin.  
	
"So that was you?  I should have known.  Well, I owe you for letting me clean up 
the place."
	
"You cleaned too well,"  Hercules corrected. "Prince Sonocles wasn't held by the 
mirror long enough to die."
	
"And you want his soul back?"  Hades seemed to mentally weigh the ramifications 
for a moment, then he briskly clapped his hands together.  
	
"Done," he announced.  "Prince whatisname is free to return to his body."
	
"Thanks." 
	
Now that his mission was accomplished, Hercules had to fight the urge to leave 
immediately.  His instincts were still going full strength and they said Jeranis 
was about to make his move.  And Hercules wanted to be there when it happened.  
	
Not to mention the growing pull he felt to forget he was still, technically, 
alive.  The longer he stayed in Tartarus, the more natural it felt and he knew 
that despite his father's heritage, it would be all too easy to be caught on the 
Other Side for the rest of eternity. 
	
These were very good reasons to return home, but Hercules didn't obey their 
prompting.  

Instead, because he had agreed to do it and he was that kind of guy, he added 
reluctantly: "Now let's go talk to Demeter."

*

Jeranis had taken as much care in selecting his horses as he had with the hiring 
of his army, and the soldiers' mounts were all healthy, well-trained and 
accustomed to the ways of battle.  
	
Even so, the Karnae's cave struck a primal note of fear in the animals.  Anxious 
neighs echoed in the small clearing and the two soldiers swore roundly as they 
tried to steady a riderless packhorse long enough to sling Iolaus' unconscious 
body across its back. 
	
They had barely finished the task when Thalpus strode out of the cave's mouth, 
quickly followed by the rest of the soldiers.
	
"All right men, mount up!"  Thalpus ordered, swinging himself into his own 
saddle.
	
Immediately, he wheeled his bay around and headed down the road at a gallop, not 
bothering to make sure that his men followed.  They would follow or die and 
every one of them knew it.  
	
Both the men and the horses were equally ready to leave the creepy cave behind 
and did so with speed, never noticing the young, very scared figure watching 
from the brush at the edge of the clearing. 

*

Derid hunched further into bracken, desperately afraid her hammering heartbeat 
would give her away to the men in the clearing.  The thrill of adventure had 
turned cold.  So had her blood. 
	
But Iolaus had been alive, hadn't he?  Surely they wouldn't have . . . killed 
him?
	
Her hands were shaking with shock, but Derid refused to notice.  Instead, she 
bit her tongue and kept still as the men departed, horses kicking up dry clods 
of sod in their haste.  
	
Derid had vowed to be useful to Hercules and Iolaus and here was her chance.  
Hercules would need to know what had happened to Iolaus, where he had been 
taken.  It was her job to stay calm until he returned and she could give him the 
information.
	
Derid didn't know exactly where Hercules was right now, but she knew that he'd  
be coming back soon.  Because Hercules  couldn't be captured and he certainly 
couldn't be dead.  
	
He'd return.  Any minute now. 
	
She stuck to that thought and sat and sat and waited.  It was only when she 
heard the sound from inside the cave that she got up to investigate. 
			
*
	
King Naveus stood on the castle parapet next to Jeranis and tried not to look 
beaten as he watched Jeranis' soldiers ride into the courtyard.  
	
But he felt beaten.  
	
The truth was that Jeranis had won, and it was beginning to seem that not even 
Hercules could right the wrongs that Naveus had allowed to flourish under his 
short-sighted reign.  
	
The icy wind seemed to blow even more sharply at the thought.  His son gone, his 
kingdom gone, and Jeranis wouldn't stop until he had killed everyone who stood 
in the way of his progress toward bloody glory . . . . 
	
"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself?"  Jeranis was watching him, mocking 
him, openly savoring his victory.  "And here I thought you'd appreciate the 
chance to watch the way a real king runs things."
	
"The people will never allow themselves to be ruled by a bloodthirsty tyrant 
like you!"
	
"Oh, really?"  
	
Jeranis leaned close, and Naveus' attempt at defiance crumbled under the cruelty 
in his ex-councilor's pale green eyes. 
	
"Lesson One," Jeranis hissed, "is that 'the people' don't have the power to 
decide anything.  And as for your precious 'heroes' . . . ."
	
Dreading what he would see, Naveus followed Jeranis' pointing finger to where 
the horsemen were now dismounting and handing over their mounts to stableboys.  
	
Naveus' heart froze.  There was Iolaus, tightly bound and guarded by two 
soldiers who followed Thalpus up the stairs to the battlements where Jeranis 
waited.
	
Waited with a foolish old man who could do nothing to stop any of this.  Could 
only wonder, where was Hercules?   Dead?  Gone?   
	
The weight of such dread possibilities slumped Naveus' shoulders and dragged his 
head down.
	
Naveus couldn't meet Jeranis' gloating eyes any longer, couldn't even watch 
Thalpus approach with his prisoner.   Instead, he stared blankly at the square, 
rough-hewn stones in the floor at his feet. 
	
 It was terrible enough to hear Thalpus kneel at his ruler's feet, to hear 
Iolaus grunt as the guards forced him to his knees as well.  It would be 
impossible to also *see* these events.
	
"King Naveus--" Iolaus began.
	
There was the sound of a blow and Iolaus' pained intake of breath.
	
"It's King Jeranis  now," one of the guards said roughly.  "So show some 
respect."
	
Naveus could almost *feel*  Jeranis' smile.  
	
"Report, Thalpus," the warlord ordered coolly.  "Where is Hercules?"
	
Thalpus cleared his throat.  "We . . . couldn't find him anywhere, my lord."
	
"What?"  
	
Relief that Hercules was not murdered gave Naveus the strength to raise his 
head.  Still kneeling on the flagstones with a guard's hand holding his head 
down in forced homage, Iolaus noticed the movement and gave the Naveus a quick 
wink.  
	
Suddenly the old king had to fight the urge to grin.  So Hercules was alive and 
free!  And he would come, for surely he would not abandon Pita or his friend to 
such a one as Jeranis!   Dormant hope pounded new energy through his tired bones 
and Naveus turned to Jeranis with the sudden gleeful desire to see his ex-
councilor's expression.
	
The warlord had turned faintly crimson with dissatisfacion.  Thalpus had risen 
and was watching Jeranis cautiously.  A purple bruise, no doubt courtesy of 
Iolaus, bloomed around one of the henchman's eyes, and his face carried a heavy 
flush of anxiety at being the bearer of unwelcome news.
	
He was right to be worried.  Naveus had overheard Jeranis' instructions to the 
torturer -- and when had he let Jeranis employ one of those? -- in case the 
Thalpus failed in his task. 
	
Very slowly, Jeranis uncurled his fingers, one by one, from the white-knuckled 
fist his hand had clenched into.   Then he gestured to Iolaus.
	
"You.  Come here." 	
	
The guards pulled Iolaus roughly to his feet and each taking an arm, half-
dragged, half-shoved him forward.  Despite the tendril of dried blood that 
snaked down from his hairline, the blond man's expression betrayed nothing but 
challenge.
	
Unimpressed, Jeranis inspected his fingernails.
	
"Where is Hercules?" he asked without looking up.
	
Iolaus' eyes burned.  "He had a lunch date."
	
Jeranis flushed deeper.  It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him 
like that and Naveus's chest tightened as he saw Iolaus' immediate future slide 
across the warlord's face.
	
An ugly leer on his face, Thalpus pressed his gleaming hunting knife against 
Iolaus' throat.  
	
"I could send you to Tartarus in a heartbeat," he promised.
	
"I've already been there," Iolaus snarled, breathing shallowly but still meeting 
the company glare for glare.  "And believe me, they've got a special room for 
people like you. And you," he added challengingly, staring directly at Jeranis. 
	
There was a frozen moment.  Wind whined across the battlements and the sounds of 
guards practicing maneuvers in the courtyard strengthened as the men approached 
the bottom of the parapet, and then faded.  
	
The sound seemed to calm the warlord.
	
"No matter," Jeranis said finally, face smoothing like melting metal as he 
regained control.  "Hercules will come to us soon enough."  
	
He turned to his lieutenant.  "Thalpus, you do have the mirror?"
	
The words were more a statement than a question, and more a threat than a 
statement.  
	
"I have it, my liege," Thalpus affirmed, looking extremely relieved that he 
could answer positively.  With a regretful glance at Iolaus' throat, he sheathed 
his knife and stepped away from the blond man. 
	
Naveus licked his lips.  "Broken?"
	
"Yes, my liege." 
	
Despite the knowledge that Hercules was coming to save them, Naveus felt a tiny 
shiver run through his stomach.  

The mirror again.  What could it be, that Jeranis held it so much in favor?  
Iolaus was looking grim, blue eyes uncertain but wary.   Thalpus had regained 
his confidence, and Jeranis . . . Jeranis looked terribly, hungrily, eager. 
	
"You delivered the pieces and frame to the blacksmith?" the warlord asked 
sharply.  Thalpus nodded. 
	
"He is preparing the forge and awaits your instructions."
	
A strange smile touching his lips, Jeranis beckoned one of the guards to 
approach.  

"Present this to the blacksmith," he ordered, pulling out a parchment covered in 
his own writing from the recesses of his cloak.  "And return the ex-king to his 
quarters.  Neither Pita nor I have a current need for him."
	
The guard acknowledged the orders and wrapped a rough hand around Naveus' arm to 
propel him into the castle.  Naveus bore the treatment with as much grace as he 
could muster, keeping his head up and pushing weakness away.
	
But the warlord's smile worried Naveus more than anything else.  It had 
contained not only desire and cruelty . . . but also victory.

*

Jeranis allowed himself a long, satisfying look as the disposed king -- still 
clinging to his dusty, pathetic, bravado -- was manhandled off the parapet. 

Only when the old man had disappeared down the stairs leading to the main castle 
and the dungeons, did he swing his attention back to Iolaus.  The blond man's 
gaze was bright and hard, but most of it all was helpless.   
	
"You won't get away with this," Iolaus stated.  
	
Jeranis almost laughed.  Heroes made it so much fun to be a villain!
	
"You and the old fool are going to make things considerably easier for me," he 
told the prisoner.
	
"Don't count on it." 
	
"Oh, I think I will."   This time, Jeranis did smile thinly. 
	
It was almost touching how men like Hercules and Iolaus and Naveus believed that 
the good would out.  Touching, but so very, very, wrong. 
	
A nod, and Thalpus stepped up with retribution in his grin.  
	
"Not again, " Iolaus sighed.  
	
And then Thalpus' blow sent him crashing to the ground.	
	
"Take him to the dungeon and keep him away from the other prisoners," Jeranis 
ordered absently, mind already bent on the future. 
	
He didn't bother to acknowledge Thalpus' salute.  What was *deserved* had no 
need for special appreciation.  If Thalpus ever neglected to show him the proper 
respect, then he would simply find another second-in-command. 
	
But for now . . . .
	
The future stretched out with breath-taking clarity. 
	
If Hercules was still alive, which by all accounts was probable, then he would 
certainly return for his friend.  And when he didn't find Iolaus at the Karnae's 
cave, he would try the castle.  Where Jeranis would be waiting.
	
Simple.  That's where people got confused.  They thought that evil was 
complicated, but that was only when you were dealing with ordinary men.  With 
heroes, it was almost too  easy. 
	
You just let them be themselves.
	
And they never learned. 

		






CHAPTER ELEVEN


	
Darkness. 
	
Then voices, filtering muddily through the rising mists of unconsciousness. 
	
A male voice, deep: " . . . should . . . wake up?"	
	
Answering, a female: "Hold your horses . . . woman's touch."
	
And water hit Iolaus in the face.  *Cold* water, that slapped him awake even as 
it soaked his hair and vest. 
	
That was a woman's touch?
	
Coughing and spluttering, Iolaus instinctively tried to wipe his face dry, but 
the movement was pulled up short.
	
Manacles.
	
His eyes snapped open. 
	
And focused on the woman in front of him.  She smiled.
	
Iolaus knew that smile.  He knew that face.  He knew that *figure*.  
	
The smile was amused, the face divine.  The figure was the stuff dreams were 
made of, scantily clad in a few sequins and some gauze. 
	
"Hi, sweetcheeks," Aphrodite twinkled.  "Glad to see me?"

*

"All right, all right."  Demeter threw up her hands in defeat.  "I suppose 
Persephone may go a week earlier.  If you *must* be so selfish."
	
Next to Hercules, Hades and Persephone exchanged joyful glances.  
	
"Thank you for understanding," Hercules told his aunt, who just sighed.
	
"I know it's hard for everyone," she said, fretfully arranging an ornamental 
cornucopia on its elaborate stand.  "But I just get so distressed when I'm left 
alone.  I get quite listless, you know."
	
Demeter sagged theatrically to demonstrate, a dramatic hand going to her brow.  
	
"Oh, mother, I'm not going yet!"  Persephone exclaimed, immediately rushing to 
comfort the goddess.  	
	
Hades scowled, making a disgusted noise which Demeter luckily didn't hear.  The 
last thing anyone needed now was a new rift in the fragile in-law relationship. 
	
But try to explain discretion to a god.
	
Still, Hercules smiled in genuine fondness as Persephone thanked him, and more 
or less truly meant it when he told Hades it was his pleasure.  It was his 
pleasure, yes, but it just could have happened at a more convenient time.
	
"And now, if there's nothing else?" he prompted.
	
Arms around his love for a lingering good-bye kiss, and for the moment the soul 
of congeniality, Hades beamed. 
	
"Of course!"
	
And Hercules was back, feet resting in the same footprints they had left.
	
He steadied himself, then coughed as the cavern's air, still thick with the 
aftertaste of smoke, caught in his throat after the sun-ripened atmosphere of 
Demeter's palace.  
	
Now, how much mortal time had passed while he was dallying with the gods?  
Hercules glanced around.  The cavern didn't give many clues.
	
There was the same looming blackness, the same chilled, ash-strewn black sand. 
The same smell.
	
And there was Prince Sonocles.
	
In fact, the only difference Hercules could detect was the figure next to the 
prince. 
	
Who wasn't Iolaus. 

*

"Aphrodite?!"
	
The goddess pouted faintly.  "Aren't you even going to say hello?"
	
"What are you doing here?"  Iolaus asked instead.  "And what was with the 
water?"  
	
He was pretty sure he wasn't just hallucinating.  Thalpus hadn't hit him that 
hard, had he?
	
Either way, Aphrodite ignored the questions, instead surveying her surroundings 
with a disdainful glance.  
	
"Geez, they make dungeons so tacky  nowadays," she complained.  "And who  picked 
out these accessories?"
	
She flicked a finger at the gleaming new manacles that held Iolaus against the 
cold stone wall.  "I mean, will you look at this design?  Don't these people 
have *any*  fashion sense?"
	
That settled it.  This was the real Aphrodite all right.  No hallucinations 
could be so infuriatingly superficial.  
	
"Aphrodite," Iolaus tried again.  "I'm a bit confused. . . ."
	
"Well of course you are!  I mean you're just a mortal."  
	
The goddess laughed with true delight at the observation, then ran a slow finger 
down Iolaus's dripping chest.  "Of course, as mortals go, you're not so bad."
	
Iolaus coughed.  "Yes, well, thanks . . . ." 
	
Prolonged association with Hercules and the variety of mythic adventures he 
attracted had left Iolaus well-practiced in the ability to shrug off the after-
effects of unconsciousness.  

It had also taught him that Aphrodite was both more intelligent and less shallow 
than she appeared to be.  At least, she could be when she wanted to be.
	
All he needed now was a simple, straightforward, answer and maybe a good 
lockpick.
	
So far, she didn't seemed to be in the mood. 
	
"Listen, is there something you wanted?"  Iolaus asked, trying not to be 
distracted by the goddess' perfume.  "Because I'm kind of busy right now . . . 
."
	
Aphrodite moved back, tossing her golden hair scornfully.  "I know, we've been 
watching you and Big Bro totally bomb.  That's why we're here." 
	
"We?"
	
"Heph and me."
	
Belatedly, Iolaus recognized the form of Hephaestus in the shadows. 
	
"Oh, hi there," Iolaus said, manacles clanking as he raising a hand in greeting. 
	
The last time Iolaus had met the god of forges, he had inadvertently 
reintroduced Aphrodite to Hephaestus and for that service, the god had sworn a 
debt to him.  But judging from the jealous smoldering in the god's eyes, that 
debt had just been seriously diminished by Aphrodite's flirtations. 
	
"Okay, Heph," Aphrodite directed, rubbing her hands together, "let's get this 
show on the road.  If we don't hurry this up, we'll be late for Dionysus' 
barbecue."
	
Newly chaste, Iolaus tried to ignore what the movement did to her anatomy and 
concentrated on the warning in Hephaestus' eyes instead. 
	
"Hurry what up?"  he asked weakly. 
	
Aphrodite's smile said she knew exactly what he was thinking.  
	
"You know how Heph said he owed you one for getting us together?  Well, when he 
saw the mess you're making of this whole mirror thing, he just *had* to 
explain."
	
She sighed, abruptly going kittenish.  
	
"He's so noble." 
	
"You're my only inspiration," returned Hephaestus. 
	
Iolaus gave a sort of smile as the two exchanged smoky glances.  Usually, he was 
all for a good match, but his tolerance for sweet talk shrank in direct 
proportion to the amount of trouble he was in, and how difficult it would be to 
get out of.  And he had the sneaking suspicion that the answers were currently: 
'a lot' and 'very.'
	
"Uh, guys?" he prodded.  "You were going to explain something?"
	
Reluctantly, the two immortals tore their attention away from each other and got 
down to business.  
	
"I made the mirror you found in that cavern," Hephaestus confessed.  "It has a 
terrible power over humans, even more than you know."
	
"And now that Jeranis character has hold of it," Aphrodite completed, "you guys 
are major   trouble."	
	
The story was simple if strange, which was often how Iolaus would describe the 
mental processes of a god.  Simple, but *strange*.  
	
Hephaestus, consumed by unrequited love for Aphrodite, had fashioned a mirror 
which would retain the image of the first face that gazed into it.  Knowing that 
Aphrodite could never resist a chance to primp, he had hung the glass on a wall 
at Olympus and the goddess had unwittingly trapped her reflection in the mirror 
for Hephaestus' secret adulation. 
	
"So you made this mirror just  so you could see Aphrodite?"  Iolaus repeated 
disbelievingly.
	
"Why not?" the goddess asked archly, placing her hands on her hips and posing to 
drive home the point. 
	
This time Iolaus didn't even notice. He was too busy thinking of all the 
trouble, all the lives destroyed, just because Hephaestus was carrying a torch 
for the goddess of love.  
	
Gods!
	
Which raised yet another question. "So why does it affect mortals so strongly?"
	
Aphrodite shrugged dismissively.  "You know mortals, every little thing gets 
under their skin."
	
"Yeah, even apples," Iolaus returned darkly, remembering another day and two 
kingdoms almost destroyed thanks to a certain magical fruit.  
	
She gave him a wide wink.  
	
"I discovered how dangerous the mirror was when I came back from delivering 
armor to Ares and found half of my servants staring into the mirror," Hephaestus 
explained, taking up the narrative again.  "It was then that I realized the 
hypnotic effect the mirror's reflections has on mortals."
	
"Sometimes beauty is a curse," Aphrodite admitted cheerfully. 
	
"So why didn't you just destroy it?" 
	
Iolaus realized the answer even before Hephaestus spoke, and together they 
chorused, "because it looked so much like Aphrodite."
	
Hephaestus blushed.  "I had loved her for centuries and never expected her to 
return my affection.  I thought that maybe if I could at least see her, I might 
be able to stand living apart from her."
	
"Oh, Heph," Aphrodite sighed, lapping it up. 
	
Iolaus sighed as well.
	
Gods . . . .

*

Hercules squinted a little in the near pitch-blackness.
	
"Derid?" he asked incredulously. 
	
The girl jumped at sound of his voice, but her face cleared as she recognized 
him.
	
"Hercules!" she squealed and threw herself at him, snatches of explanation 
bursting out of her even as she hugged him. 
	
"I wanted to  -- they -- Iolaus -- I heard -- he was -- where did?"
	
"Derid," Hercules said, long practice keeping his tone calm,  "why don't you 
tell me about it outside?  I could do with some fresh air."
	
The girl obediently released her stranglehold on Hercules' neck and slid to the 
ground, her nose wrinkling in agreement with the suggestion.  
	
 Outside the cave, the afternoon was bright and warm.  
	
Blinking in long-denied sunlight, Hercules gently set Sonocles down and scanned 
the clearing.  Someone had been here while he was gone.  Quite a lot of 
someones, in fact; fresh hoofprints marked almost every inch of the grass. 
	
More composed, now, Derid sat cross-legged next to the prince and began to 
straighten his hair with a tender protectiveness that made Hercules eye her 
thoughtfully.  This was a pretty crowded time to become emotionally involved, 
but if traveling with Iolaus had taught him anything, it was that there was 
always time to form attachments. 
	
And speaking of Iolaus . . . .
	
"Derid," Hercules said, "did you see anything here?  Any horsemen?"
	
The girl looked up blankly at the question, almost as if she had forgotten he 
was there.  Then her face crumpled in renewed distress.
	
Hercules knew that expression.  He had seen it on countless faces in countless 
villages.  And this time, he had the sinking feeling that he knew the reason 
behind it.
	
"Try to tell me everything in order," he suggested. "And slowly."
	
Derid took a deep breath and nodded.  Spunky kid.	
	
"I wanted to see you fight the Karnae," she began, enunciating perfectly.  Then 
she hesitated, eyes darting up to Hercules.  "You're not mad, are you?"
	
"We'll talk about it later," Hercules compromised and satisfied, she continued.  
She was still holding the prince's hand. 
	
"When I got here, there were a lot of men.  Jeranis' men. They had Iolaus!" 
	
The fact that he had expected the news didn't make it any more welcome.  Once 
again, Hercules had been drawn into the entanglements of his father's relatives, 
and now Iolaus was in the middle of whatever Jeranis as planning. 
	
Derid was watching him worriedly.  Automatically, Hercules put on a reassuring 
smile.  
	
"Don't worry, we'll get him back," he promised. A sudden premonition prompted 
him to add: "Did the men have a mirror frame?  About so big, probably wrapped 
up?"
	
Eyes widening as she put new importance on a detail, Derid nodded. Then her eyes 
glinted with sudden eagerness.   
	
"Are you going to go beat them up?"	
	
It was a good question.
	
"Maybe," Hercules said.  "I'd rather not, but somehow I doubt Jeranis will make 
things easy.  But right now, we'd better get Prince Sonocles inside, somewhere 
safe.
	
Derid brightened.  "We can take him to my house.  My mother will know how to 
take care of him."
	
"Good, that will get him out of danger," Hercules agreed.  And just as 
importantly, it would keep Derid out of danger as well.
	
Easily lifting Sonocles over one shoulder, he didn't mention his fear that the 
problem wouldn't be nursing the prince back to health, but making sure he had a 
kingdom to come back *to*.  
	
But then, that was where Hercules came in.  
	
The Karnae was gone.  Time to start Phase Two.
	
With Derid at his side and the prince hanging gently across his shoulder, 
Hercules headed back to the village. 
	
*
	
Inside the Karnae's cave, a tiny shred of breeze had found its way in from the 
outside world. 

It swirled through the cavern, turned, and returned to the world of light 
leaving little mark of its passing. Except that, as it fled out into the 
corridor, it passed a small pile of dully glowing feathers.  And its puff of 
motion pushed one feather, slightly apart from the others, ever so minutely 
closer to the rest. 
	
Hardly worth mentioning, really.  

*
	
Derid's house was a neat, clean affair with a flourishing garden and a low stone 
wall that reminded Hercules that he owed his mother a visit.   He used the sun-
warmed stones as a seat while he waited for news of Prince Sonocles.
	
Derid's mother, Carina, had hustled the prince into the house as soon as the 
trio had arrived, giving polite attention to Hercules, but just as his own 
mother often did, generally relaying the impression that she could get things 
done much more efficiently if he just stayed out of the way for a while.  
	
So he wasted the late afternoon minutes reexamining the players in this 
particular adventure.  
	
Hera's part in the hostilities was simple enough.  She had an eye for immoral 
and overly ambitious mortals like Jeranis and knew exactly how to use them for 
her own purposes.  Jeranis' reward had been the benefits of political and social 
instability as the Karnae wreaked ruin on the countryside.  With his help, Hera 
had created an elaborate trap, using the Karnae as a lure and hoping that if the 
beast didn't get Hercules, Jeranis' scheming might.  
	
She never stopped testing him, betting that someday, somewhere, she would get 
lucky. 
	
But that someday wasn't now and that somewhere wasn't the kingdom of Pita. 
	
That part of the jigsaw satisfied Hercules, but the part Aphrodite's mirror 
played still bothered him.  

Hera must have known about the mirror's existence, and although a god wasn't 
allowed to steal another god's property, there was nothing forbidden about 
tipping off an unscrupulous human to the item's whereabouts.  And a man like 
Jeranis would certainly jump at the chance to control a mind-manipulating 
device.  
	
So perhaps Jeranis had placed the Karnae in the cavern, knowing that the 
creature would protect the mirror from any further casual discovery until 
someone came along that could handle the beast.
	
Knowing that someone would be Hercules . . . .
	
Knowing that once Hercules discovered the deadly qualities of the glass, he 
would immediately break it?
	
It was a disturbing idea, but Hercules' instincts believed.
	
But why would Jeranis be interested in a broken mirror? 
				
*
	
"Well, duh, " Aphrodite said.  "Now that the glass is broken, all that Jeranis 
dude has to do is melt down the pieces, refit them to the frame, and imprint  
*his* face in the mirror."
	
"And then anyone who looks in it will be mesmerized," Iolaus completed grimly.
	
Aphrodite tilted her head spectulatively.  "Maybe, but since he's only a mortal, 
and pretty gruesome to boot, his reflection shouldn't have as much power as 
mine."
	
Iolaus drip-dried thoughtfully.  
	
"You mean they won't be mesmerized, they'll just be--?"
	
"Zombified or something," Aphrodite nodded unconcernedly. "Turned into his 
mindless slaves, forced to obey his every word.  That kind of thing.  Sucks, 
huh?"
	
Iolaus was already remembering Jeranis ordering certain instructions to be 
carried to the castle's blacksmith.  Who already had the pieces of the mirror, 
and was only awaiting the green light  . . . . 
	
"Well, that's it," Aphrodite said cheerfully, cutting across the sudden chill 
that was settling on the immediate future.  "Just thought you might want to 
know.  Ciao, Curly."
	
"Hey, wait a minute!"  Iolaus protested, pulling against his restraints.  "Can't 
you at least undo me before you go?"
	
Hephaestus shook his head regretfully.
	
"Sorry, sweetcheeks," Aphrodite agreed.  "Interfering with mortals is a big 
cosmic no-no."
	
"What? Since when ?" 
	
"Since always," Aphrodite said, but her seashell eyes were evasive.  
	
"What about the golden apple?  Or when you stopped all the women in Greece from 
falling in love because you were bored with your job or when you enchanted 
Gabrielle's scroll so everything she wrote came to life or when you gave Joxer 
that bell that--"
	
"Okay, okay," the goddess interrupted.  "We can,  but we're not going to.  
Satisfied?"
	
"No!" 
	
Hephaestus grimaced.  "It's just that Hera--"
	
"She gets really steamed when we mess with one of her plans," Aphrodite 
admitted.
	
Iolaus sagged in frustration against his chains.  "So I guess making me immune 
to the mirror is out, too?"
	
Aphrodite's smile was inscrutable as she pressed two fingers, soft as silk, 
smooth as wine, against his lips.  
	
"Catch ya later, sweetcheeks."
	
And then they were gone.
	
Unfortunately, Iolaus wasn't. 
	
Gods.
	
"Thanks a lot," he told the empty cell and, having no choice, settled back to 
wait. 








CHAPTER TWELVE


	
Bruist was one of the best blacksmiths outside of Sparta and had served three 
kings in two kingdoms without once failing a task or asking an unnecessary 
question.  He had constructed objects of peace and objects of war --mostly of 
war -- but the use  was unimportant.   

He treasured the artistry.   
	
And there was nothing more artistic than a well-formed sword. 
	
He had crafted the blade that councilor Jeranis currently wore.  Though it was 
apparently King Jeranis, now.  The news meant little to him, as did all things 
that could not be physically heated and shaped, reheated and smoothed.  
	
This shattered mirror that Jeranis had sent him was a task that required little 
real artistry; just time and competence, both of which he had to spare.  Bruist 
had simply melted down the icy splinters and razor-sharp shards of glass into a 
white-hot molten pool, then poured the liquid glass directly into the silver 
frame.  Apprentice stuff, really. 
	
The frame, now.  That was a thing of genius.  Bruist knew he was good, but he 
also knew that while he might, after months of work, possibly copy its elegant 
twists and side-scrolling, he could never create its equal.  
	
It was certainly a thing of the gods, but the affairs of gods were as the 
affairs of kings, armies, and diplomats: not his to question.
	
Once the glass had cooled sufficiently, Bruist placed a silk cloth over the 
mirror as King Jeranis had ordered, then set the object aside and returned to 
crafting the king's new throne.
	
Mere moments later, King Jeranis himself strode into the forge.  
	
Bruist humbly bent to one knee on the sooty floor, then guided the king to where 
the silk trembled in the breeze of the bellows. 
	
Hands shaking ever-so-slightly, the king pulled the silk away and curving his 
fingers under the smooth silver frame, lifted the mirror up to face him.  Light, 
oddly reflected from the glass' surface, painted Jeranis' face unnatural and 
sinister as it washed his features. 
	
Then came a flash of white light so intense that even Bruist, used to staring 
into the heart of the forge's fire, was forced to look away. 
	
When the red and blue after-images had faded into the familiar shapes of cooling 
trough, anvil, hammer and tongs, the blacksmith turned back to King Jeranis only 
to find the king watching him.   

The mirror was now quiet in the king's hand.  Surely a thing of the gods, then. 
	
If Bruist had spent fewer hours learning to read iron and gold, and had instead 
devoted time to studying human expression, he would have seen the danger in 
Jeranis' expression.  As it was, he simply waited to see if the king required 
anything further from him.
	
The forge never dealt in duplicity.  The fact that humans did was about to cost 
Bruist his life.	
	
"You do fine work," the king said.
	
"Thank you, sire." 
	
Very slowly, Jeranis tapped one pale finger against the smooth silver surface of 
the mirror's frame.  Somewhere deep within Bruist's rusty people sense, a hint 
of uncertainty flickered into life. 
	
And now," the king continued, "there's one more thing you can do for me."
	
The mirror was suddenly in front of Bruist's eyes.
	
"Look." 
	
Bruist looked, struggled, was conquered. 
	
Now he no longer saw his forge.  He no longer felt the stone under his feet, or 
entertained thoughts of metal and fire and skill.  Now he was severed from all 
but that which was truly important. 
	
And the only thing truly important was Jeranis.  The Master.  
	
"Who do you obey?" the Master asked.  His face, his voice, spun around Bruist 
like a hurricane, a tidal wave. 
	
"You, lord Jeranis," he gasped.
	
"For whom will you kill?"
	
"For you, lord Jeranis."
	
"For whom will you die?"
	
"For you, lord Jeranis!"
	
"Prove it."  The Master withdrew the sword from his belt and held it out.  
"Prove it."
	
Bruist's world was that command.  
	
The sword went through his stomach without any resistance and the blacksmith 
fell heavily to his knees.  He tried to look up, to continue watching the 
Master, but his body betrayed him, slumping to the ground.  
	
"Very good,  Bruist," Jeranis said and Bruist sought to smile in pleasure at the 
Master's praise.  But his lips weren't working.
	
The Master's presence continued to pulse, but Bruist could no longer respond.
	
His fingers stiffened, then relaxed.  There was no pain.  It was a very good 
blade that Bruist had crafted, and that had killed him.
	
*

Almost smiling, Jeranis turned away from the body.  

So the mirror worked!  

In his mind's eye he already saw the ranks of mindlessly worshipping men 
stretching across battlefield after battlefield.  No need for wages, promises or 
threats; this was the ultimate loyalty.  And no matter the number killed, more 
could be picked up anywhere.  
	
In his hands, the mirror felt cold and deceptively heavy for such a slender 
object.  It felt like power, like triumph.  It felt wonderful.  
	
Hummus, Corinth, Athens, Thebes . . . what beautiful names he would conquer.  
Sparta, Argos, Arcadia, Crete. . . .  
	
Greece.
	
And there was no way he could be stopped.

*		

"Hercules?"
	
The hesitant voice of Carina, broke through Hercules' dark thoughts. With an 
effort, he shook off the old anger that Hera's hostilities and the plotting of 
warlord's always caused. 
	
"How's the prince?" he asked.
	
Carina nodded.  "I think he'll be fine.  He just needs a lot of rest and a lot 
of attention."
	
"I'm sure Derid will be glad to help," Hercules offered and was rewarded by 
Carina's conspiratorial smile.  So she saw it as well..
	
"You know," she said a little shyly, "I never had time to thank you for rescuing 
my daughter."  
	
She held out her hands, took Hercules'.  "Thank you. I couldn't have lost her 
too."
	
Hercules squeezed her hands, feeling the echo of emotion that would never lose 
its sting.  Memories of Deianeira and their children, of happiness and love and 
ultimately, of Hera and injustice.
	
Except that this time, a family had lost their father instead of the other way 
around. 
	
"I'd better get going," he said finally. 
	
Concern clouded her expression.  "Are you really going to the castle?  Jeranis 
will have guards out everywhere. It'll be very dangerous."
	
"Don't worry," he smiled, "I'm used to it.  But could you do me a favor?"
	
"Of course."
	
Hercules checked to make sure Derid was still inside the house, then continued 
in a lower voice.  "Don't let Derid sneak after me.  She could get caught in the 
cross-fire."  
	
Derid's mother was a handsome woman, a mature reflection of the beauty Derid 
possessed under the scratches, and only betrayed her personal suffering through 
the hint of premature grey in her auburn hair and the lines around her brown 
eyes.  Even those lines smoothed at the thought of her daughter. 
	
 "She's really a good girl.  Just headstrong, sometimes."
	
"I know," Hercules assured her.  "I'd just feel better if I knew where everyone 
was."
	
Something in his expression must have betrayed his thoughts, because Carina's 
gaze took on the same shrewd, measuring quality his own mother often used.  
Maybe there was a maternal handbook somewhere. 
	
"Derid told me about your friend," she said softly.  "I hope he's safe."
	
"Iolaus can take care of himself for a little while longer," Hercules said, 
refusing to consider any other possibility. 
	
"I'm sure he can," Carina agreed.
	
"Yeah."
	
Hercules felt time evaporating like a mirage in the desert.  
	
"Take care of yourself, and Derid," he said.
	
"Be safe," Carina told him.  
	
"I will." 
	
And he left to straighten things out. 

*

After Hercules had gone, Carina went back into the house, wrapping her shawl 
more firmly around her shoulder.  Inside, Sonocles was awake and thought weak, 
he appeared to be smiling as Derid offered him broth.   
	
At this rate, he'd be back to strength in a matter of days.  And maybe her 
daughter would discover that were other adventures more pleasant than the 
slaying of beasts and the overthrow of warlords.
	
Watching the two, Carina's own affectionate smile dimmed.  

Beasts and warlords.  Plots and prisoners.  And their last chance a lone hero 
against an army led by a ruthless killer.
	
"I'm sure he can," she said again to no one, and wasn't certain of she was 
referring to Iolaus, Sonocles, or Hercules.  
	
Or Jeranis. 
	
*

Had Iolaus and Bruist both escaped from the forge, and had they later met and 
over a companionable ale in the local tavern broached the subject of what was 
most satisfying in all the world, Iolaus would have strongly disagreed with the 
blacksmith.
	
Swords were, in their way, fine and good, and well-made swords were finer and 
better, but they could hardly be ranked with, for example, women.   Or a full 
hand at cards with a couple of yokels fresh from the Arcadian highlands.  Or a 
festival with dancing, the finest food in Greece, and, of course, women. 
	
And nothing equaled the satisfaction of helping Hercules save villages from the 
bad guys, even when it occasionally got him into positions like this. 
	
Yes, there were certainly dozens of things Iolaus found more gratifying than a 
chunk of highly polished metal, and Freedom was at the very top of the list. 
	
However, in the current circumstances, he would have happily settled for a 
really good sword.   
	
The closest he got were the warning pricks of weapons held by the assorted 
soldiers who escorted him out of his cell, down an empty corridor and through a 
doorway into what appeared to be the castle's forge.   
	
Jeranis stood in the middle of the room, holding a familiar object and looking 
very pleased to see him.  
	
Very pleased indeed.
	
There was a body, very dead, at the warlord's feet.  The blood on the flagstones 
glinted in Jeranis' smile as he regarded Iolaus.
	
"You're just in time," he said.
	
"Yeah, looks like you're one short."  
	
"Spring cleaning,"  Jeranis told him. 
	
"So let me guess," Iolaus continued to keep everyone's attention off his hands 
as he checked the bonds that held them tied, palms out, behind him.  "You've got 
a mirror I need to see?"
	
The bonds were tight to the point of pain, and very professionally knotted.  
Bummer.
	
Jeranis was still smiling.  "How ever did you guess?" 
	
Thalpus smiled too, as he stepped up and slugged Iolaus in the stomach.  

Grunting, from the unexpected blow, Iolaus doubled up, then straightened again 
as Thalpus yanked up his head by the hair.  Someone else forced open his eyes 
with two pairs of beefy fingers. 
	
And so Iolaus found himself breathing heavily and staring unwillingly into a 
mirror whose glass shone like a pearl wet by tears. 
	
Nothing should have been able to glow like that under the flat candlelight of 
the forge.
	
But then Iolaus didn't have any time left to consider such trivialities.
	
He didn't have time left to consider anything.
	
The forge closed in on all sides, all sound, touch, thought funneling away until 
Iolaus was surrounded only by cool blackness.  

And then before him, an image of Jeranis, face cruel and commanding with eyes 
that bent to pry open mind like an oyster, faded slowly into focus . . . .

*

Still watching Hercules' little friend struggle out of the corner of his eye, 
Jeranis beckoned Thalpus to his side.  
	
"Did you send the messenger to King Talcum in Hummus?" 
	
Thalpus was grinning with pleasure at the entertainment.  "As you ordered, 
sire."	
	
"Excellent."  
	
Jeranis allowed himself another slow smile. 
	
He was on the other side of the bank, ferried across by the innocence of kings 
and heroes.  Now, the final wheels were waiting to be set in motion, the traps 
waiting to be tripped.
	
For Greece.
	
For Hercules.
	
"Oh, and Thalpus," Jeranis added.  "Get someone to clean up this mess, will 
you?"
	
		




CHAPTER THIRTEEN




Usually Hercules enjoyed few things more than a good run.   
	
He liked the exertion, the chance to stretch muscles and stamina under a clear 
blue sky that smelled faintly of the sea and sweet meadow flowers.   But most of 
all, he appreciated the temporary feeling of being the alone and free, with 
nothing required of him and his only restrictions that of his body and his will, 
both of which were strong enough to keep going for days. 
	
Now he ran for far less pleasant reasons.  He ran because every passing second 
gave Jeranis that much more of an advantage, gave Iolaus and Naveus that much 
less of a chance . . . .
	
So he ran *very* fast.
	
Villagers looked up as he passed, but otherwise stayed out of his way.  

Everyone knew that Hercules didn't hurt innocent bystanders, but no one with any 
sort of sense would tempt the Fates by drawing themselves to the attention of 
someone wearing that expression.  
	
That expression meant that someone was about to be in trouble.  Big time. 

*

Hercules bore down on the castle gates like a thundercloud and in his eyes 
lightening glittered.  The palace guards on sentry duty shifted nervously.
	
"I need to get in there," he said.
	
The lank-haired guard on the left shook his head and lowered his glittering pike 
to point directly at Hercules' chest.  
	
"No one else gets in to see the king today," he growled.
	
"He'll *want* to see me," Hercules promised darkly.  
	
And then they recognized him.  And swallowed in unison. 
	
Looking very much like he would have preferred to be on the other  side of the 
gate, the right hand guard lowered his own pike. 
	
"By order of King Jeranis," he quavered, "we order you to surrender."
	
"Yeah.  Right."
	
As quick as thought, Hercules grabbed the two pikes and pushed them forward so 
each wooden end ploughed into its soldier.  

Then he flipped the weapons up.  

The terrified guards went as well, hanging in the air from the vertical ends of 
their pikes until finally, they fell back to the ground.
	
Hercules discarded the pikes over his shoulder, where they pinned the two rear 
guards sneaking up behind him to the ground.  
	
Then he bent down and took a guard in each hand. 
	
"Let me rephrase," he said, and lifted.  "I. Am going. In. There. Unless you 
have some kind of problem with that?"
	
Feet dangling and faces turning purple, the guards quickly re-evaluated their 
loyalties and made a unanimous decision.
	
"Open the gate," they croaked as one.  "Now!" 
	
After a moment, sounds of the crossbar being drawn back issued from behind the 
iron-bound gates.
	
"Good choice," Hercules complimented and used the men to push open the gates. 
	
Then, having worn out his immediately usefulness, one guard was propelled 
southward through the air by inhuman strength.  He landed facedown in the pile 
of dirty straw that the stableboys had just mucked out.  

The other guard soared into the air in a northerly direction, hit the thatch 
roof of the kitchen and decided that all things considered, it would probably be 
safer to just stay up there. 
	
Hercules didn't bother to watch the guards' landings.  He had spent the entire 
day 
one step behind the course of events, and now he was intent on catching up. 
	
And when he was this intent on something, people who got in his way ended up 
being treated like sports equipment.
	
Thrown, hit, and occasionally broken. 
	
*

The castle courtyard was filled with a weaving line of villagers.  Dozens of 
worried faces craned toward him to see what was happening.  
	
Hercules pulled up short.  He didn't have time for this!
	
"Hercules?"
	
Hercules strode to Temeus.  The farmer was standing toward the front of the 
line, almost to the marble-tiled walk leading into the castle.  A heavy money-
bag jangled at his belt. 
	
"Temeus," Hercules snapped, "what are you all doing here?"	
	
Temeus' face twisted with helpless bitterness. 
	
"Today's the day we have to pay this month's taxes," he said.  "If we can afford 
it. Or even if we can't."  
	
He looked closer at Hercules and frowned.   
	
"What's going on here? Did you defeat the Karnae? Where's Iolaus?" 
	
Hercules imagined a mirror with the capacity for mind control, a broken mirror, 
the pieces pain-stakingly collected from a godly cavern . . . . 

Hephaestus liked his creations to stay together and the fragments would make it 
easy for a skilled blacksmith to reforge them . . . just in time for most of the 
village to line up in the palace and pay servitude to their king. 
	
Pieces made a nasty click in Hercules' mind as they came together.
	
He still wasn't sure what Jeranis was planning, but these people needed to get 
out of here.
	
"Hercules?"
	
"Temeus, I don't have time to explain, but everyone needs to go back to the 
village right now."  
	
Hercules turned to the rest of the crowd, raising his voice to be heard. "You 
can't stay here, it's too dangerous!"
	
The line of villagers watched him uncertainly.  
	
"But we've got to pay our taxes!"  an old man protested.
	
"Your safety is more important," Hercules commanded. 
	
His urgency convinced Temeus, who began to herd the villagers next to him toward 
the open gates.  
	
"You heard Hercules," he yelled.  "Let's go!"
	
Grudgingly, the crowd began to move.  Then abruptly, the shuffling feet turned 
into a spirited trot.  But it wasn't because of Hercules or Temeus. 
	
It was because the soldiers had arrived.
	
Hercules turned to face the sneering regiment.  
	
"What took you so long?"  he asked.  "I was beginning to get  . . . ."
	
And then a lone figure stepped out in front of the rank of mercenaries.  
	
Late afternoon sun gleamed from the naked sword the man carried and in his 
tousled blond hair.  
	
Hercules felt the world shrink, felt time freeze and tunnel back through the 
years to the last time when he had seen this man face him with an enemy blade.
	
"Iolaus," he said.  
	
And wondered just how this time, this was going to end. 
	
*
	
And now in the  . . . not empty, but dormant . . . cavern of the Karnae, an 
adventuresome titmouse was making its inquisitive way across the ash-strewn 
sand.
	
The mouse had little reason to be in the cavern; its natural haunts were the 
short warm grasses of the meadow and the heavy brush of the forest.  But 
something had urged it to explore this new area and so now it snuffled through 
charcoal and cold sand in the hopes of finding fallen nuts, or another mouse's 
abandoned store of provisions.
	
As it scuttled through the silence, the mouse happened to hit a certain feather.  
Delicate and iridescent in the murk, the peacock eye shining inhumanly, the 
frond shifted . . . .
	
 Just that  much. 
	
Green lightening splintered the darkness, the cavern groaned and the tiny mouse 
was hurled across the cavern by unnatural wind.  When it recovered enough to 
look up, a winged creature looked back.  
	
Mice have no knowledge of Chimaeras, Dragons or Medusa, whose very visage turns 
men to stone, but even it knew a creature of evil when it saw one.
	
Unfortunately, it did see one, and when the Karnae soared out of the cavern 
toward the castle of Pita, it left behind the tiny stone statue, perfect in 
every detail, of a very unlucky titmouse. 
	
*

"Iolaus," Hercules said again.  "What's going on?"
	
Methodically, as if he had never seen Hercules before, had never traveled 
through the world at his side, Iolaus flexed his sword arm and took a combative 
stance. 
	
"Must kill Hercules," he said flatly.
	
"What?"
	
The part of Hercules' brain that was not stunned and worried, was moving very 
fast.  Even when the unreformed Xena had manipulated Iolaus against Hercules, 
Iolaus had been angry, hurt . . . not like this.  Not blank.
	
This was like Iolaus wasn't even there.  Like he had been . . . 
	
 . . . enchanted. 
	
The mirror.  
	
"That's right, Hercules." 
	
Jeranis stepped out  confidently to stand next to Iolaus' unwavering form.  
Thalpus smirked behind him.  
	
"Thanks to you," the warlord continued, "everyone in the castle, including your 
little friend, is under my control."
	
"How?" Hercules demanded. 
	
If he had somehow helped Jeranis, than whatever he had done, he would undo it.  

Iolaus wasn't going to stay like this. 
	
Thalpus sneered at Hercules' determination.  
	
"Once you broke the mirror," he gloated, "Hera told Jeranis how to remake it so 
that anyone who looks in it will become his slave."
	
"Quite an amazing little device, isn't it?" Jeranis added. 
	
Thalpus turned smugly to Iolaus.  
	
"What do you say, little man?" he prompted.
	
Hercules waited.  Studied his friend's face for any trace of the man he had 
known for so many years. 
	
And saw it.  

Just before Iolaus swung his elbow back into Thalpus' stomach and then sent him 
sprawling with a punch to the face.
	
"I say," Iolaus snarled, "don't call me 'little'."  
	
And everything was all right again.
	
"Impossible!"  Jeranis cried.  "I order you to fight Hercules for me!"
	
"Been there, done that.  And you're not even my type."
	
Jeranis backed away.  
	
"But how?"
	
For a moment, a hint of laughter accompanied by a sweet gust of faint perfume 
swept through the courtyard.
	
"That's Aphrodite," Iolaus grinned.  "For a goddess who doesn't interfere, she 
does it with style!"
	
"You've got to learn to be more flexible, Jeranis," Hercules needled.
	
"Get them!" Jeranis yelled.
	
The soldiers charged.
	
On the other hand, Hercules reflected, flexibility wasn't always a preferred 
trait in a warlord. 
	
"That's a lot of soldiers," Iolaus admitted as he took up his familiar place by 
Hercules' side. 
	
"We've handled worse," Hercules said without much enthusiasm. 
	
His friend shot him a purely Iolausian expression. "Yeah, but didn't your mother 
ever tell you not to push your luck?"
	
"Do we have a choice?"
	
Two dozen grinning mercenaries said the answer was "no."

			

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

	

The villagers had fled, leaving only Hercules, Iolaus and twenty bad-tempered 
soldiers.  Jeranis had also disappeared somewhere, but Hercules could hear 
Thalpus shouting orders behind the ranks. 
	
There were so many warriors that they had to queue up for their turn at 
attacking.
	
Iolaus ducked under a heavy swing, lost his sword but caught the mercenary a 
sound blow against his breastplate. 
	
"So where've you been?" he asked Hercules as the guard crumpled. 
	
"You know," Hercules shrugged, latching onto two soldiers and cracking their 
heads together.  "Keeping busy."
	
"Busy?!  Let me tell you about busy--"
	
Taking advantage of the back Hercules bent, Iolaus rolled across it, kicking out 
his feet to take care of a few creative soldiers who had been trying to sneak 
around and attack from the rear. 
	
He landed on Herc's other side and bent down to allow his friend to perform the 
same maneuver.  Then, to regain their central position, the partners stood back 
to back and linked hands.  Hercules heaved and Iolaus went head over heels over 
Herc's head, knocking a few soldiers silly on the way. 
	
He landed easily and continued the conversation amid kicks and blows.
	
"--I've  been jumped, imprisoned, had my mind almost taken over, and I nearly 
had to gut myself before Jeranis would believe I was brain-washed!"
	
Hercules tossed someone into someone else.  "I can't leave you alone for one 
minute, can I?"
	
Iolaus postponed his answer and took out another soldier, then staggered as a 
mercenary caught him with a hard backhand.  More men pressed in toward the 
weakness.
	
Hercules evaded a sloppy sword slash from a mercenary and when the man tried 
again, he trapped the blade harmlessly between his arm and side. 
	
And punched.
	
The soldier soared off toward the stable roofs. 
	
Wincing a little for the man -- that had to hurt -- Hercules kicked another 
soldier across the courtyard and hopping over a sword blade, thumped the handler 
with a chop to the neck.  

Then he hoisted the prone mercenary into the air, wielding him as a crude staff.   
Men were sent flying in all directions from the impact of their flying comrade's 
boots.
	
Once most of the nearby men were flattened, Hercules hoisted the luckless 
soldier over his head and put him into a spin.  Then as soon as the man was 
rotating nicely,  it was time to find an efficient place to deposit him. 
	
On top of the two mercenaries who were holding Iolaus horizontal for a third man 
to use as a punching bag seemed to fit the bill perfectly. 
	
"Heads up!"
	
The two mercenaries holding Iolaus obediently lifted their heads to see what was 
happening.  Iolaus, who had experience with Herc's tactics, did not.  

So when the flying man hit his comrades'faces so hard that everyone collapsed, 
Iolaus was ready to roll free and from his ground position, kick the third 
mercenary's feet out from under him.
	
"Or was that 'duck'?" Hercules mused to himself. 
	
And then a covert movement by the entrance to the palace caught his eye.  
	
Jeranis. 
	
"Iolaus," he called, placing a hand on the corner of a water trough so he could 
kick out at a lingering mercenary.  "I'm going for Jeranis!"
	
"Okay, I'll take Thalpus!"
	
"Right."
	
A minute later, Hercules had cleared himself a path to the palace.  Most of the 
soldiers were either accidently fighting each other or were groaning on the 
ground by now.  

The courtyard churned slowly with the barely conscious. 
	
The mercenaries would recover soon, but it bought Iolaus and him a little while 
to take care of business. 
	
It should be enough.

*

"JERANIS!"
	
The king's throne room was wide and square, with loping drapery that shook 
slightly from the force of Hercules' call.  The arching ceiling was decorated 
with frescoes of Olympus.  Hera glared down from one corner, and in another Zeus 
seemed to be gazing at something in the far distance. 
	
Typical.  
	
Hercules moved further into the room, eyes fixed on the cowering warlord. 
	
"We need to talk," he told the false king. 
	
Jeranis had retreated until he was pressed against the taspestried back wall, 
but panic and triumph warred in his expression as he flung his hand out toward 
Hercules.  
	
"Get Hercules!"  he screamed. 
	
Silently as fog, a dozen villagers detached themselves from the shadows and made 
for Hercules.  Each man and woman moved with the automatic, half-brainless 
demeanor that Iolaus had imitated in the courtyard. 
	
Only these people weren't pretending.  
	
Still soundless, the Pitans threw themselves at Hercules, bearing him down with 
the sheer weight of their bodies.  Blunt fingernails scrabbled on his clothing 
and skin, blindly trying to tear and rend.
	
"Wait," Hercules protested as he went down. "I'm not your enemy!" 
	
"You are if I say you are!"  Jeranis laughed.  "These fools worship me like a 
god now." 
	
"I wouldn't get used to it," Hercules advised from under the press of villagers.  
	
All he heard was the warlord's laugh.  

*

A fallen thug's sword in hand, Iolaus wove through the fallen bodies of 
mercenaries, instincts leading him to the most likely place for a man of 
Thalpus' character to be.
	
Sure enough, he found the henchman in the stables with a half saddled horse and 
several jangling bags that probably contained most of the royal treasury.
	
"Leaving so soon?" Iolaus asked.
	
Thalpus whirled, sword out and ready.  He looked pleased when he recognized 
Iolaus.
	
"I owe you, little man," he sneered.
	
Iolaus spun his own appropriated sword.  "Then come and get it," he invited. 
	
Thalpus threw a knife instead.  The blade spun over his steed's back and Iolaus 
had to dive to avoid being speared through the heart.  
	
The knife grazed his arm but there was no time for pain.  

Thalpus pressed his advantage, skirting around the horse to viciously hack at 
Iolaus' middle.  Scrambling back to his feet, Iolaus blocked the blows, his 
sword shifting down and up and down.   

Managing to force Thalpus' sword wide, he dove in close at an opening but it 
suddenly became an elbow in the face. 
	
Iolaus staggered back with the blow, barely got his sword up in time to divert a 
fierce sally from Thalpus, then rolled under the horse's belly to give himself 
time to regroup.  The horse skittered nervously, its hooves, honed to a cutting 
edge for battle, clicking on the stable floor. 
	
Springing back to his feet, Iolaus caught Thalpus' blade with his own and kicked 
out, sending the henchman stumbling backward.  
	
"That's for the cave," he panted. 
	
Thalpus regained his fighting stance and attacked like he really, really meant 
it.
	
 "I'll make you wish you'd never set foot in Pita!" he snarled.
	
Iolaus spun, parried and locked swords with the larger man.  
	
"Yeah, that's just what I always say," he grunted.  "You meet the nicest people 
traveling."
	
Thalpus threw him off and dove back toward him.  

Iolaus dodged and the henchman's weapon  kicked up sparks as it missed Iolaus' 
throat and instead clanged off the iron chain that held the warhorse to its 
haltering pole.  

The horse whinnied at the noise and jerked up its suddenly free head.
	
Iolaus caught another one of Thalpus' thrusts with his own sword, then swore as 
the impact cracked his inferior blade in two.  When it came to weapons, 
mercenaries preferred quantity, not quality.  
	
Thalpus advanced, grinning.  

Iolaus ducked and dodged, looking for something he could use.  The stableboys 
had cleaned too well; there wasn't even a bucket or a horseshoe lying around.  
	
But there *was* hay on the ground, dropped by careless horses. 

Iolaus slipped on the strands and fell back, desperately twisting under the 
horse's belly again as Thalpus' bright blade dove toward him.  This time, the 
larger man followed under the steed.
	
It was a mistake.  Its patience ending, the horse reared angrily, and brought 
down razor-sharp hooves with the precision and fervor of a trained warhorse. 
	
Iolaus turned away from the screams.  There was nothing to be done. 

*	

Iolaus was halfway across the courtyard when the Karnae arrived.  After that, 
there was even more screaming.   	
	 
*

In the throne room, Hercules came to a reluctant decision and flexed inhuman 
muscles.  Villagers went sprawling as Hercules surged back to his feet. 
	
He took the moment's breather as they regrouped to find someplace where the 
villagers could be safely deposited.  He wouldn't let Jeranis force him into 
hurting innocent people, even if they were being manipulated into attacking him.  
	
He found the perfect spot just as the first villagers charged him again.  As 
they grabbed at him, Hercules calculated very carefully and jerked his arms up.  
The villagers flew backward into the air and landed unhurt in the loops of the 
red drapery. 
	
"This--" Hercules gently picked off another villager and sent him sailing into 
the another fold of the drapery.
	
"Is getting us--" Two more villagers rocketed up and landed with soft precision.  
	"--Nowhere!"  
	
And the last villager found herself hanging against the wall with the rest.
	
As he had hoped, now that Hercules wasn't in their immediate vicinity, the 
villagers seemed to be at a loss and rather than jumping the dozen feet to the 
ground, they just stayed where they were, presumably waiting for Jeranis to give 
them new orders.
	
But he never would if Hercules had anything to say about it.
	
Hercules took a deep breath and wheeled back to Jeranis.  
	
"Now," he said.  "I want that mirror." 	
	
Face pale at the failure of his minions, Jeranis clutched the mirror to his 
chest and edged toward the door. 
	
"Not so fast," Hercules ordered.
	
"Naveus, get him!"  Jeranis screeched. 
	
From the throne, a figure stirred.  It had been sitting so quietly, that 
Hercules hadn't even noticed it was there. 
	
But now Naveus opened blank blue eyes and tottered forward.  
	
"Destroy Hercules," he chanted mindlessly.
	
The old king posed no threat, but if he was allowed to run around like this, he 
could get himself seriously hurt.  As tenderly as possible, Hercules tossed 
Naveus into the throne room's elaborate chandelier.
	
When he looked back down, Jeranis was gone.  Damn!
	
The throne room's doors burst open and Iolaus skidded in.
	
"Herc!"
	
"Iolaus, what took you so long?"
	
Iolaus jerked his head toward the doors.  "That!"
	
Through the open doors, Hercules could see soldiers running frantically.  Then 
suddenly, there was a confusion of leathery wings.  

When they receded, the soldiers were frozen in place, their bodies no longer 
flesh but solid . . . 
	
"It's turning people to stone?" Hercules asked.
	
"Yeah," Iolaus confirmed. "And once by the She-Demon was more than enough for 
me!  Herc, that things's gotta be the Karnae again."
	
It could be.  Hera's creature were notorious for their ability to re-animate.  
How many times had he had to fight Hera's first Enforcer?  

Well, no time to wonder about it just now.   One crisis at a time.   Hopefully.
	
Hercules checked the king and villagers.  They still swung peacefully. 
	
"Don't go away," he told them.  
	
"It's a long story," he added in response to the puzzlement in Iolaus' 
expression.  "I'll fill in the details later.  Right now, let's get Jeranis."
	
"Where is he?"
	
"I'm not sure."
	
Iolaus frowned.  "Is that a problem?"
	
Hercules absently adjusted his armshields.  "No.  Just a nuisance.  Let's go."
	
They went, both knowing that Jeranis was out of options.

*	

Jeranis knew it too.
	
He ran, but there was no where he could hide. 
	
And then, creeping through the castle corridors, he suddenly discovered his 
ticket for safe passage out of Pita. 
	
His knife snaked against Derid's throat before she could even cry out and his 
arm encircled her waist like a snake.  Jeranis smiled like bones breaking.
	
"You and I are going on a trip, my dear," he hissed, lifting her up.
	
There wasn't a thing she could do to disagree. 



CHAPTER FIFTEEN




Hercules and Iolaus caught up with Jeranis on the castle parapet.  Down in the 
courtyard, the Karnae-beast was diving and swooping, leaving stony terror in its 
wake.  But up     here . . . .
	
Jeranis was waiting for the partners.  His face was wild and trapped, his left 
hand hidden in the folds of his robe.  The mirror lay at his feet. 
	
The warlord's right hand held a taut rope which ran over the wall.  On the other 
end, feet kicking helplessly in the air fifty feet above the courtyard, hung a 
distressingly familar form. 
	
"Derid!"
	
The girl turned a bravely terrified expression toward them.  
	
 "Guess I should have stayed at home, huh?" she squeaked.
	
"I won't let anything happen to you," Hercules promised her. 
	
"Okay."
	
Jeranis and Hercules weighed each other.  Iolaus started inching toward the wall 
and Derid. 
	
*

Derid's flailing body had caught the Karnae's attention.  

It lifted its face to her, and instead smelled its eternal quarry.  The Hercules 
was up there.  

Ignoring the other humans, the Karnae spread grey-veined wings and took to the 
skies. 
	
*

Jeranis loosened his grip on the rope ever so slightly.  As the line slid 
through his fingers, Derid plunged down half a dozen feet, then gasped as she 
jerked to a rocky stop that much closer to a gruesome death.   
	
Iolaus stopped moving.
	
"Don't do this, Jeranis," Hercules warned. 
	
A muscle jerked in the warlord's cheek.
	
"If either of you try anything," he told them almost conversationally, "then I 
let go of the rope and this girl meets with a very messy end.  And you people 
protect innocents, don't you?" 
	
Hercules met Iolaus' gaze and saw agreement.
	
"All right, Jeranis," he said. "What's your deal?"
	
Jeranis smiled.  "I tie off this rope and walk out of Pita a free man.  My life 
for hers.  Your word on it."
	
That was impossible.  Hercules tensed to spring, saw Iolaus shift in the same 
subtle movements.  
	
But before anyone could move, the beating of wings filled the air and the Karnae 
hove into view.
	
Derid screamed as it passed her, wind from its passage rocking her wildly.
	
"Nobody look at it!"  Hercules warned.
	
This was a beast no mortal could see and live to describe. 
	
It was as big as a harpy, with taloned feet and a spiked tail, but its face was 
the face of Medusa.  Snakes spat and hissed around the stone-eyed featured.  Any 
full human who looked upon that visage would be instantly turned to stone. 
	
"I hate to repeat myself, Herc," Iolaus said with tightly closed eyes.  "But is 
this a problem?"
	
Hercules studied the huge flying beast.
	
"Ask me in a few minutes."
	
"Oh. Swell."
	
At first, even Jeranis had instinctively obeyed the command in Hercules' tone.  
Now he re-opened his eyes.
	
"You can't fool me so easily, Hercules," he growled. 
	
"Jeranis, no!"
	
Hercules dove for the man, but Jeranis had already turned to face the Karnae.  
	
The snakes snapped in the air and tiny fangs glittered balefully.
	
Jeranis stiffened and the crossbow he had been hiding in his robe clattered to 
the ground.  

Tiny rivulets of grey appeared on the warlord's face, spreading in length and 
width as they crawled through his body, changing flesh to stone.  He shuddered, 
opening his mouth to scream.
	
And then there was nothing left but a statue. 
	
The rope slid from his motionless hand. 
	
Gleaming talons outstretched to rend even the flesh of a half-god, the Karnae 
folded its wings and plummeted toward Hercules.
	
"Iolaus, the rope!" Hercules yelled and rolled to avoid the Karnae's attack. 
	
Iolaus dove for the rope. 

His clambering hands reached the tail end just before it disappeared over the 
wall forever.  Grunting, Iolaus caught himself against stone barrier and hand-
over-hand, began to bring up Derid.
	
The Karnae's talons sliced across Hercules' bicep as it sped by.  Rolling its 
eyes at another miss, the creature loop-de-looped over the parapet and returned 
to a hovering position over the group.
	
"Great, now what?" Iolaus asked, straining to haul  Derid further upward.
	
The Karnae's tail sliced through the air toward Hercules, forcing him to dive 
over the knife-edged spikes.
	
"Iolaus," he snapped, "quit feeding it straight lines!"
	
"Better lines than me!"
	
But they both knew who the Karnae was really after.
	
Ignoring the blood that streamed down his arm, Hercules tumbled to the Jeranis-
statue and grabbed up the mirror.  The Karnae dove again.
	
Knowing if this didn't work  . . . . Hercules fell back, holding the mirror up 
so the Karnae's reflection was thrown directly back at it.  

Very slowly, the Karnae's eyes widened.  Grey tendrils wove across its face, 
wings, body.  
	
As quickly and completely as its human victims, the beast became stone.  It 
ploughed into the parapet, bounced once, then cracked into a thousand pieces.  

So much for Hera's beast.
	
"Rock and roll," Hercules muttered. 
	
As the entire battlement shook with the Karnae's impact, Iolaus' grip slipped 
and he lost the length he had gained for Derid.  
	
The girl cried out as she fell again. 
	
"Hold on," Iolaus said stubbornly, feeling himself tip over the parapet as the 
girl's weight again pulled down.  "I've got you. . . ."
	
"Need a hand?" Hercules asked behind him.
	
"Why'd you think that?" 

Dusting off his hands, Iolaus drew back so his friend could take his position 
and haul Derid up to safety.  "Where's the Karnae?" 
	
"In too many pieces to ever worry about again," Hercules said with finality.  
	

Gently, he lifted Derid the last distance over the lip of the wall.
	
The girl's face was glowing as her feet touched stone. 
	
"Wow," she exclaimed with complete confidence in the abilities of her 
benefactors, "that was so cool!"
	
Hercules exchanged an amused glance with Iolaus. 
	
"Just don't try it at home," he counseled, breaking the final loop of rope 
around her waist.
	
Iolaus examined the fragmented pieces of Hera's monster and whistled.  "Talk 
about bad Karnae." 
	
Then he frowned.  "Hey Herc, what about the mirror?"
	
With great satisfaction, Hercules kicked over a stone version of frame and 
glass.  "The Karnae got it, it got the Karnae.  You could play discus with it 
now, but that's about all."
	
Derid picked up the petrified object curiously. 
	
"It's pretty," she said.  "Can I keep it to put in my garden?"
	
"That sounds like the perfect place for it," Hercules agreed. 
	
He turned to study Jeranis' stone features.  
	
"Villains," he said with a mixture of regret and pity. "They just never learn."
	
"But this one will make a great  lawn ornament," Iolaus suggested with a wide 
grin.
	
And for the first time in many months, the parapet echoed with laughter. 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN



Hercules, Iolaus and Derid entered Naveus' throne room to find the effects of 
the mirror already wearing off.   

Throughout the drapery, villagers blinked back reality, frowning or rubbing 
their temples as memory and free thought collided.  Others examined their 
situation with acrophobic confusion. 
	
"Hercules! What by Zeus am I doing in this chandelier?"  
	
King Naveus, eyes once again sharp and alert, peered down at the trio between 
goldwork and extinguished candles. 
	
"And where's Jeranis!" he demanded. 
	
"Taken care of," Hercules promised.  "As for the rest, it's a little 
complicated."
	
"Then get me down from here before you tell it!"  Naveus coughed loudly and 
added:  "And remind me to make sure the servants dust the light fixtures more 
often."
	
"We can do that, King Naveus," Hercules agreed as Iolaus chuckled behind him. 
	
"King Naveus," Naveus sighed happily.  "I like the sound of that."
	
"I bet your subjects will, too," Iolaus said. 
	
The king's face grew worried.  "Yes, my subjects.  My kingdom!  There's so much 
to do. I've got to get started right away!"
	
"Let's just get you out of the chandelier first," Hercules began.
	
The slightly frazzled blat of royal trumpets interrupted him.  

A round, richly dressed figure waving a sheaf of papras strode into the room. 
	
"Now, Naveus," King Talcum of Hummus demanded, "what's all this you wrote to me 
about needing to discuss urgent matters?"
	
"I wrote no such thing--" Naveus protested.
	
King Talcum peered suspiciously up at the chandelier.
	
"What by all the gods in Olympus are you playing at, Naveus? I had a good five 
hours' ride to get here and now you'd rather swing in furniture than talk?" 
	
"You know, King Naveus," Hercules stepped in smoothly. "King Talcum has a point. 
Since he's traveled all this way, you could use this opportunity to solidify 
that peace treaty you were talking about."
	
Both kings looked equally confused.
	
"Peace treaty?" Naveus echoed blankly.
	
"Yeah," Iolaus prompted, "the peace treaty that will ensure prosperity for 
generations to come?"
	
This time Naveus got it.  
	
"Ah, of course!" he beamed.  "That peace treaty!  What do you say, Talcum?  
There's no sense in constant bickering: we're neighbors!"
	
Very slowly, King Talcum nodded.  "You're right, Naveus.  I'm getting too old 
for petty squabbles.  Let's draw up the papers immediately!"
	
And so, amid calls for paper, pens and a ladder, the final piece of Jeranis' 
plan crumbled into nothingness. 
	
"You know, Herc," Iolaus said complacently.  "I have a feeling that Hummus and 
Pita will make a great combination." 
	
Hercules returned his partner's pleasure with a clap on his shoulder.  
	
"So do I, my friend.  So do I."
	
*

And after that, there were explanations and gasps and applause and a lot of 
cleaning up; and finally, much to the pleasure of Iolaus, there was dinner.  

Naveus and his son were reunited with tears and amazement, Derid got a loving 
scolding from her mother, and a sincere peace treaty between Pita and Hummus was 
drawn up in record time.  
	
And Sonocles, who was still desperately thin, nonetheless had enough energy to 
make certain that Derid would agree to come and visit him at the palace.  
	
Hercules and Iolaus spent a lot of time fending off comments beginning 'how can 
we ever--' and 'we'll never be able to--' and after a pleasant week of Naveus' 
hospitality, they made their good-byes, promising to return whenever possible, 
and once again set out into the world with hearts bright and pure.
	
The sun shone with the beginnings of an autumn bite, and the last summer-green 
leaves rustled with a soft wind along the road the adventurers had chosen to 
take. Villagers carried loads or perched on horse-drawn carts carrying goods to 
market.  
	
No one hurried, no one looked warily over their shoulders.  A few people had 
brought their children along and and watched unconcernedly as the kids played 
around the carts or fenced with ferns of suspicious character at the edge of the 
road. 
	
They waved casual 'good days' as Hercules and Iolaus passed.
	
"Ah, this is the life, Herc," Iolaus sighed, drawing in a deeply contented 
breath of fresh air.  "You know, peace and quiet's all very well--"
	
"But there's nothing like a little excitement--" 
	
"To make you remember you're alive," Iolaus finished.
	
Hercules just smiled. 
	
Up ahead, a cart had been driven off the road and now floundered half in a 
ditch, while the horse calmly took the opportunity to munch on the foliage 
within its reach.  
	
A young woman was doing her best to push the cart back onto course, while at her 
side a handsome young man stood and admired his image in a hand-held mirror.   
He didn't seem to be at all interested in lending a hand.
	
"Can we be of assistance?"  Hercules offered.
	
"Oh, yes, please," the woman agreed, raising her head to smile her appreciation.  

She wiped a hand across her forehead.  "*He* drove the cart off the road, and 
now he can't be bothered to help."
	
"I'll mess up my hair," the young man protested.  
	
Hercules went around the cart to find a good handhold.  
	
"If you don't stop spending all your time admiring yourself," the woman snapped, 
"you're going to fall in a hole and break your silly neck!"
	
"She's right, friend," Iolaus agreed, guiding the cartwheels into the grooves on 
the road as Hercules heaved.  "Mirrors can be more dangerous than you'd think. 
Trust me."
	
"That's right!"  The young woman came to an abrupt decision and snatched the 
small mirror out of the man's hands.  
	
"Narcissus, from now on you're not to look in that again -- not if you want me 
to marry you.  Use the river while washing your face, like the rest of us!"
	
"But Honey . . . . "
	
Narcissus's whine faded out as Hercules and Iolaus walked on, grinning at each 
other.
	
"It takes all kinds," Hercules suggested.
	
"Yeah, I guess so . . . and that reminds me, there's a festival for Aphrodite in 
Biscetti.  We could reach it by nightfall, and I sort of owe her one."
	
"Ah.  And that's the only reason you want to go."
	
"Sure, why else?"
	
"Well, there's the food, dancing, women. You know, relaxing things."
	
"Oh, yeah, well, of course there's that . . . . but thanking Aphrodite, that's 
the important thing."
	
"Of course."
	
And as the heroes continued down the road, their conversation, too, faded into 
the gentle noises of summer growing gradually into fall.  

	
	THE END

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