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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 m