Children of the Sea

The late afternoon sun lent a soft glow to the courtyard of the Academy, turning the stone a light yellow amber while a gentle breeze carried in the scent of the late spring blossoms on the ancient apple tree just beyond the wall. Two students, freed at last from the strictures of the classroom and the exercise hall, basked in the sun's rays on the steps of the main administration building, enjoying the first day without rain in more than a week. The taller of the two laughed at the antics of the curly haired, blond cadet who was grousing, as usual, about the useless store of information that was beginning to clutter up the inside of his head...who needed to know all that stuff about mathematics or ancient history anyway...it wasn't like it was useful or anything...not like knowing how to read the sky, in the daylight to determine weather changes, direction, time of day...or at night, to read the stars to know which way was north...or knowing how to track and hunt game for dinner...or knowing how to charm pretty young things to steal a kiss! Now...that would be something worth learning!

Hercules smiled indulgently at his best friend. It wasn't that Iolaus was stupid, or that he couldn't learn. It was just that he had too much energy...being trapped in a classroom was little better, in his mind, than being trapped anywhere else. He got restless, wanting to be out in the air, moving, talking, laughing...getting into trouble. Although the latter activity, Hercules thought ruefully, was something Iolaus was quite capable of doing on a regular basis within the halls of the Academy. He had a real knack for attracting the wrong kind of attention from Fiducious...the kind of attention that inevitably just led to him being trapped longer in the classroom, writing out inane statements like "I will never again bring a frog, or a snake, or any other kind of disruptive creature into class" or "I promise to pay attention in class for the rest of the year" two hundred times....

Ah well, today, at least, he had been on good behaviour (or, at least as good as he was capable of) so he had not garnered any extra assignments or stable duties. They had given up disciplining Iolaus with duties in the kitchen. He never stopped eating when he was in there and Chiron claimed the Academy could no longer afford to place Iolaus on kitchen duty. Instead, Iolaus spent so much time mucking out the stables he was getting downright good at it! The upside for Iolaus was that he loved horses and seemed to have a knack for communicating with the beasts. Herc snorted to himself...he and horses had never successfully found any common ground. The downside for Herc, and everyone else in the barracks, was that mucking out stables was smelly work...and the smell seemed to linger on the worker. Herc's nose wrinkled in memory of the last time Iolaus had been compelled to work out some misdemeanor.

Consequently, there they were, lounging in the courtyard, when the King's messenger arrived looking for Jason. The messenger wore the traditional crimson garb of the court, along with the equally traditional haughty demeanor of the King's personal envoy. Swinging off his horse, the man cast a dismissive gaze down his noticably long nose at Iolaus as he threw the reins at the cadet. "See to my mount," he ordered. Iolaus stiffened for a moment before snapping into a parody of the helpful stable hand.

"Certainly, sir...will he be needing watering, sir, or a brush down...should I walk him a bit to cool him off, sir, or just give him a bag of oats, sir...or, by 'see to' did you mean I should just stand here and look at him...sir?" The challenging tone in Iolaus' voice did no more to endear him with the messenger than did his sarcastic words. Deciding to avert the possibility of trouble, Hercules intervened. Casting a withering look at Iolaus to get him to behave, Hercules turned to the envoy, took the reins respectfully and answered the messenger's question about where he would find Jason.

"Jason is over in the exercise hall. Let me take you to him."

"No need," the envoy replied coldly, "I know the way." Without a backward glance, the man strode off across the yard.

"Well, get a load of him...thinks he's something special," Iolaus jeered.

"He's just doing his job...why do you always have to...." Herc's voice drifted off. What was the point of starting an argument with Iolaus. However, as he noted his friend's stiffening posture, he realized he already had.

"'Always have to' what? And what was that 'grow up' look all about....he started it," Iolaus countered.

"Started what? The guy came here looking for Jason...he wasn't starting anything."

"Herc! He threw the reins at me as if I was some sort of lackey...he didn't even have the courtesy to ask...just ordered...who does he think he is?"

"He thinks he's the King's messenger. He thinks he's on important business...and he probably is," Hercules responded, trying to keep a reasonable tone. Iolaus was always so quick to bristle against authority...any authority.

"So, he's important...and I'm not, is that what you mean?" challenged Iolaus.

Herc sighed as he began to lead the horse toward the stables. "I didn't say that...what's wrong with you, Iolaus? Why do you always have to try to pick a fight? Can't you, just once in a while, let it go...sometimes some people are rude. So what?"

Iolaus' hot rejoinder was cut off when they saw Jason and the messenger emerge from the exercise hall to stride purposefully across the yard, heading to Chiron's office. Jason looked very formal, very business like.

"Well, here comes The Prince," mumbled Iolaus, using the tone he reserved for those times when he thought their friend too obviously projected the aura of royalty. Hercules sent him another quelling look to which Iolaus responded with an exaggerated rolling of the eyes and throwing up of his hands gesture...a kind of "What!!!" in pantomime.

Ignoring him, Herc called out to their friend. "Jase, is something wrong?"

Jason, distracted by the hail, turned briefly to Hercules, noticing both him and Iolaus for the first time. Something serious must be going on for Jason to have been so oblivious to everything around him. He waved his arm in a 'give me a minute' gesture to the messenger as he called back, "Herc, would you and Iolaus hang around for a few minutes...I need to talk to you." Then he led the messenger up the steps into the building.

Now, that stimulated their curiousity. Both young men straightened as they looked at one another, wondering what was going on. Shrugging his shoulders, knowing they couldn't do anything but wait, Hercules turned to lead the horse to the stables, where he gave the mount a bucket of water.

"Not too much, too fast," cautioned Iolaus, sauntering in behind him.

"Iolaus, if you can do this so much better than I can, why didn't you just take care of the horse in the first place?" snapped Hercules.

"No need to get hostile! The horse'll get cramps if you give him too much cold water too fast, that's all," returned Iolaus sharply.

"Right, thank you, oh Master of the Horses...I've certainly never taken care of a mount before, so I certainly would never have known that," Hercules responded sarcastically.

"Fine," snapped Iolaus, as he turned on his heel and stomped from the stable.

"Fine!" shouted Hercules after him. Sometimes Iolaus could be so irritating! Hercules took a deep breath, and wondered what they were fighting about...why they were fighting at all. Maybe they just needed some space...they spent virtually all of their time together. Herc sighed. Yeah, maybe they just needed some space.

Once he had finished caring for the horse, Hercules went back into the courtyard. He was making his way toward Iolaus to smooth things over, when Chiron, followed by Jason and the messenger, emerged from the building.

"Iolaus, Hercules...please round up the cadets," Chiron directed as he came down the steps, with no doubt that both would jump to do his binding...and they did. Within ten minutes, all of the cadets were assembled in the courtyard, standing with some semblance of order in the late afternoon sun.

"Cadets," Chiron addressed them with his calm, austere voice, "the King of Corinth has sent for assistance. Pirates have been seriously disrupting trade, sinking or commandeering vessels, in Corinthian waters. Last night, the seventh ship in two weeks was lost with all hands. The King has asked for volunteers to sail with his corsairs to find the pirates and bring them to justice, if possible...to kill them, if necessary. This will be hazardous duty, but one which would give you the opportunity to learn about military maneouvres and combat at sea. There is no requirement for any of you to volunteer, but, if you are interested in this assignment, would you please step forward."

It took Iolaus less than half a second to move forward. Anything had to be better than sitting in a classroom...and chasing pirates sounded like an adventure...it might even be fun. Certainly wouldn't be boring, anyway...and that made the assignment very appealing. Hercules was right behind him...but, then, Hercules would never deny a request for help...certainly not when it came from the father of one of his best friends. However, Hercules didn't think about the possibility of adventure...he thought about the need to save lives. Fifteen other cadets, most of them from the senior year, followed Hercules and Iolaus into the front ranks to stand before Chiron.

Showing neither approval nor disapproval, Chiron nodded. "Those of you in front, please stay...the rest of you are dismissed." Once the others had drifted away, sorry not to be able to hear the details, even if they did not wish to participate, Chiron turned to Jason, deferring to his right as Prince to undertake the briefing.

"Thanks, guys," Jason began, "we'll be leaving at once to meet with my father's ships in the harbour. Gather up your gear and weapons...there is no way to determine how long we'll be gone, but we will travel light...everything we'll need beyond personal effects will be provided. Meet back here in fifteen minutes." As the cadets were turning for the barracks, Jason called Hercules and Iolaus back.

"Herc, Iolaus...there's something else," Jason began. "My father has an idea that one or two young men, who are obviously not from his Court, may be able to infiltrate the gang of pirates. He has information about where some of their known associates hang out, where contact with them could be made. Would either of you be interested in taking on that assignment?" Jason hesitated, wondering if he should even have asked...this could be a much more hazardous assignment than sailing with skilled naval personnel. However, before he could retract the offer, or add any cautionary note, Iolaus was quick to respond.

"Sure, Jason...I'd be willing to try that," Iolaus volunteered eagerly.

Hercules made a face as he gazed at his friend. Iolaus had no sense of personal preservation. This could be really dangerous. However, he wasn't about to let him go alone. "Yeah...I'll do it, too," he stated firmly....only to hear Iolaus snort beside him. Irritated, he turned to the blond, "What?"

"Herc, don't ya think you're a little too clean cut to be believable as a potential pirate?"

"Well, I may not be as scruffy as you...so what?"

"Guys, guys..." Jason held up his hands as he moved between them. He was used to the ongoing sniping between these two friends, knew it didn't mean anything, but they could get themselves pretty steamed up, and he didn't have time for that now. Turning to Hercules, Jason continued, "Iolaus has a point, Hercules...he is a more believable potential recruit, and," turning to Iolaus, "without in any way meaning any disrespect or insult, you have the kind of references necessary if they check up on you." Iolaus was tempted to bristle...he didn't really like being reminded of his connections on the streets with thieves and other lesser lights of society, but he took Jason's point in the spirit it was intended. He nodded resolutely at Hercules, as much as to say, 'See, told ya!'.

Hercules frowned. He didn't like the sound of this... "Jason, it's too dangerous for Iolaus to go in alone...."

"Might be more dangerous for two, than one," Iolaus returned in a cocky tone. "Doubles the chances of getting caught."

Hercules bristled, then caught himself. Not half an hour ago, he'd been thinking a little space might do them both some good. Still, "I don't know...what if you got into trouble? There'd be no one there to even know...."

Iolaus waved off his concern, "Aw, I'll be fine...so long as no overzealous sailor gets me in his sights!" he said with a grin toward Jason.

Jason didn't grin back. Hercules was right. This was dangerous...but, having someone on the inside could make all the difference. Pushing back his own misgivings, he nodded, "Alright, Iolaus, I'll brief you on how to make contact with the pirates, while Herc, you go to get your stuff."

Hercules didn't like being dismissed, but he wasn't sure what more he could say. His worry plain on his face, he reluctantly nodded and turned away. He'd try to talk sense to Iolaus before they left. As he loped off toward the barracks, Jason turned Iolaus aside and spoke with him quietly. Chiron had watched, and listened, but kept his own opinion to himself. It was a dangerous assignment....but life was dangerous and, of all the cadets, Iolaus was the best suited to this particular responsibility.

Hercules returned with the others, not ten minutes later. But, when he got back, Iolaus was nowhere in sight. Jason caught his questioning look, "Iolaus has already headed over to the port. The contact is supposed to be casual, so it's best if he doesn't show up with all his gear, as if he was expecting to be taken on. If they want him, they'll take him. If not, he'll come back for his stuff and meet up with us later."

Herc felt a sinking in his stomach. It was all happening too fast. There was too much that could go wrong. Regretfully, he remembered that, in the rush, he never had smoothed over the earlier argument he'd been having with Iolaus. Gods, he hoped his friend wasn't getting into something he couldn't handle.

An hour later, Iolaus strolled into the dingy tavern near the docks of the Corinthian port on the Aegean Sea. 'What a dive,' he thought, as he sauntered toward the bar. The place was crowded with seamen who had seen better days...scruffy did not begin to describe them. Their clothing was little more than filthy rags, most feet were scored with ingrained dirt, bare and smelly. What teeth they had were black and rotting in their gaping mouths and hair hung greasy and stringy around unshaven faces which had been burned dark by the sun and wind. They hunched over tables marred by years of knife scratches and gouges, sticky with monthold gravy and spilled ale, or leaned against the makeshift bar which was little more than a timber supported by old battered crates. It took no effort for Iolaus' face to assume a tough, disgusted look, his nose wrinkled against the stench. He stood out in the assembly as the best dressed, cleanest person in the establishment...a first for him.

Iolaus pulled a couple of the coins Jason had passed to him to finance this bar crawl from his pocket and called for an ale. The bartender passed him a semiclean mug of the house finest (warm, no doubt sour) and leaned companionably toward him. Iolaus tried to put himself downwind of the bartender's rancid breath. "New around these parts, ain't ya?" ventured the fellow, his tone somewhere between suspicion and welcome.

Iolaus took a sip of the ale and forced himself to swallow the wretched stuff. "Yeah," he responded with a shrug.

"Where're ya from, stranger?" continued the bartender.

"Northwest of here...Thebes," Iolaus answered, making as if to turn away.

"Know anyone in these parts?"

Iolaus grinned wickedly. "Yeah, sure, Prince Jason is one of my good buddies...I just dropped in here on my way to the palace."

A gleam sparked in the barkeep's eyes, then was lost as he laughed companionably.

"So...ya're just passing through then?"

Iolaus turned back, studied the barkeep as if wondering how much to share, then leaned companionably back on the bar. "Maybe...depends...."

"Depends on what, young feller?"

Iolaus looked around the seedy place, shrugged a bit, then turned back, "On whether I can find a means to fill my pockets with more than sand," he responded offhandedly.

"Looking for work, then?"

"Work? Well, only if nothing else more appealing turns up," he said cheerfully.

The barkeep grinned, thinking he had the measure of this cocky young upstart. On the run probably...he didn't carry any gear and didn't seem all that well off. Kids like this one, healthy and strong, but uninterested in honest labour, were just the sort his friend Scala was always looking for. The barkeep scanned the crowd briefly, then called out, "Hey, Demetrius, come on over here for a minute."

A scurvy looking sort of indeterminate age looked up from a table in the corner, then stood and ambled over. There wasn't much to distinguish him from any of the others except for the filthy red rag he had tied in triangle fashion over his head to keep his hair off his face. "Yeah, what's up, Souros?"

The barkeep nodded toward Iolaus, "This young lad is looking for a means of employing his time profitably. Thought you might want to have a chat with him...maybe introduce him to Scala."

The seaman looked Iolaus up and down. 'Small,' he thought, 'but looks like he could handle himself.' Out loud, he demanded, "Ever been to sea, boy?"

Bristling at the inspection and the 'boy' comment, Iolaus shook his head. "I'm not interested in being a fisherman...not enough money in it."

"Not what I asked you, boy. Can you handle yourself on a ship?"

Iolaus shrugged indifferently. "I've helped sail a ship or two," he responded, thinking back to the time he and Hercules had helped free the captive Amazons from slavers.

Demetrius smiled cynically. "Come along with me...might have something that could interest you...."

Iolaus frowned, not wanting to seem too eager. "Look, no offence, but I don't know you from Poseidon...maybe you could give me an idea of what you have in mind."

Demetrius looked at the barkeep who shrugged, "Says he wants to fill his pockets, but he ain't innerested in real hard work...."

Demetrius sniggered. "Well, kid...let's just say I have connections in the shipping world...a kind of salvage operation...but, we salvage goods before everything gets waterlogged...."

Iolaus studied the man, a half grin forming on his lips. "Sounds like a profitable business."

"You could say that, kid, you could say that...." Demetrius agreed.

Iolaus set his mug on the bar. With a carefree shrug, he nodded, "Alright, let's go meet this friend of your's, what was his name? Scala?"

"Uh huh," confirmed Demetrius as he turned and led Iolaus from the tavern into the early dusk outside. Neither saw the brief feral grin on the barkeep's face which disappeared as he turned to attend to another customer. Nor did anyone notice when another sailor pushed away from the bar and ambled out into the night.

As Iolaus was leaving the tavern in the company of his new acquaintance, Jason and the cadets were arriving farther down the dock where the King's ships were moored. There were six royal ships in the harbour, and the cadets needed to be sorted out and assigned to their respective berths. Jason kept Hercules with him while the others were assigned to the five remaining ships. They were a sleek collection, built low to the water for speed and shaped for manoeuverability, sturdy with long, sharp ram configurations on their bows to hole other vessels at the waterline. Just before they were to go aboard, a young scamp ran up to Jason, pulling at his tunic to attract the Prince's attention. Jason looked around and down at the lad, his eyebrow arched in query.

"My da says to tell ya ya're friend has a new job."

Jason nodded once and flipped a coin at the lad who caught it in his grubby fist then tore off back down along the docks, dodging around crates and the milling cadets and royal seamen. Hercules looked over at Jason who nodded back before turning to board the ship. Jason led Hercules to the bow, where he introduced his friend to the ship's captain, a stocky man with a skin like oiled leather, named Cletus.

"Good to have you aboard, Prince Jason. Your father will be pleased with the extra support provided by the Academy. We need lads who will know how to fight when we catch the villains." The Captain gave Hercules an approving look.

Jason grinned. He had known Cletus a good part of his life...known him to be someone he both liked and trusted. "What's the strategy, Captain?"

Cletus gave loud instruction to weigh anchor and unfurl the mainsail before turning back to the Prince. "Each ship has her instructions to patrol a sector of the coast. We will escort larger merchant ships into the sealanes beyond where most of the attacks have taken place and keep a sharp eye for unknown vessels. When we encounter such ships, we will hail them, order them to submit to an inspection and board. If any run, or fight, well...then the fun will begin." Cletus grinned back at the Prince. Jason was a good lad, had always made his father proud and would make a fine King someday. He was pleased and proud that the young man had chosen to sail on his ship.

Jason nodded. "Sounds simple enough. I'll take Hercules below, stow our gear and then come back up to help in any way you command." Jason might be the Prince, but he understood the etiquette of the sea...on board, the Captain ruled and Jason would obey. Cletus nodded and turned his attention to the business of getting his ship out into the open sea.

Jason led Hercules down the narrow, steep steps into the hold of the vessel. It might be a royal ship, but she was designed for business, not luxury. Hammocks were slung from the ceiling in the bow, above benches for the seamen who doubled as rowers to move the vessel should the wind fail. He showed Hercules where to stow his pack. Once this was done, Hercules stopped Jason with a touch on the arm before his friend could head back up on deck. "The boy...he was talking about Iolaus, wasn't he?"

Jason nodded. "Yes...it looks like Dad was right. The pirates have lost men in some of their raids and needed to do some recruiting. Iolaus seems to have successfully attracted their attention."

Hercules did not bother to try to hide the concern that shadowed his eyes. "Jason...what can Iolaus do? Once we're at sea, he can't get any messages to us...I don't see how his being with them will help us...and, it's dangerous for him."

Jason nodded, his eyes slipping past Hercules, not wanting to acknowledge the risks involved. "Iolaus will do what he can to sabotage them, slow them down. He can't stop them raiding other ships, but, if we fail to catch them at sea, Iolaus will be able to identify them once they are back in port...and will be the principal witness at the trial." Jason looked back at Hercules. "I know it's dangerous, Herc...but, if we can't catch them at sea, it may be the only way of stopping them."

"Jason, if your 'contact' knows these pirates, why couldn't he just be the witness...point them out to your father's military forces and have them taken?"

"Suspecting isn't the same thing as knowing...and rumours don't constitute evidence for a trial. We have to catch them in the act, Herc, or have a witness who can testify to specific events."

Herc looked away. He didn't like it...the plan was too loose, too opportunistic...and too much could go wrong. Iolaus could be injured or killed when pirates attacked another ship, or in a battle with the royal corsairs. His mission could be uncovered by the pirates who would kill him in a heartbeat. Gods...he had a bad feeling about this. Jason could read the expressions fleeting across his friend's face, could understand Herc's concerns. Trying to instill a confidence he wished was genuine, he laid a sturdy hand on Herc's shoulder. "He'll be alright, Hercules...Iolaus knows how to handle himself...better than any of us. He'll be alright."

Hercules nodded...but, the look in his eyes was less certain.

Demetrius led Iolaus along the docks to the far end where a medium sized vessel with sleek lines and two masts was moored. The ship looked like it had spent hard days at sea, its wooden sides marred by burns and scars. Iolaus cast a skeptical look at it before turning to Demetrius with a questioning gaze. Sailors worked around them, loading supplies in barrels and crates...water and food mostly, from what he could see. The sailors looked like a hard lot, wiry and strong; their laughter and catcalls to one another had a cynical edge. They looked marginally less scruffy then their counterparts in the bar...but he didn't see any signs of wealth, until he looked again more closely. Many wore earrings which glinted gold in the failing light. He saw silver arm bands and necklaces...but no rings. Sailors took care not to wear anything on their hands which could catch in the ropes or shrouds and lose them a finger.

Demetrius noted the young man's appraisal of the subtle signs of wealth and nodded. The kid was observant, a quick study. He might work out just fine. If not, well, he was easily disposed of once they were at sea. "Wait here," he instructed as he turned and boarded the vessel, returning minutes later with a very large, well muscled bearded man who wore canvas trousers rolled to the knees, a multitude of gold chains around his neck, a large gold loop in one ear...and nothing else besides the cutlass which hung from his belt.

The giant gave Iolaus a long look of appraisal. "What's your name, kid?" he demanded.

"Iolaus, and I assume you're Scala?"

"Assume nothing, Iolaus....So, I understand you're looking for a bit of profitable adventure," the man continued his inquisition.

Iolaus nodded slowly, giving the larger man his own close scrutiny....letting his eyes rest meaningfully on the gold that surrounded the man's neck. Scala's eyes scanned the area around Iolaus. "You don't seem overly burdened with possessions, lad."

Iolaus shook his head. "No...I find I can pick up most anything I want...when I want it... so there's little need to be bothered with carrying stuff around."

Scala grinned wickedly. "I see...it sounds like you're not too burdened with scruples either."

Despite himself, Iolaus laughed. The man might be a pirate, but there'd been a trace of humour in the grin and the glint in his eyes...and he was no moron. Not everyone would use a word like 'scruples'. "No," Iolaus responded with a chuckle, "personally I've found 'scruples' too heavy to carry...I left them by the road a long while back." He cast a sidelong look at Demetrius to see if the knave's vocabulary was keeping up with the exchange...and, from the puzzled look in his eyes, Iolaus assumed not.

Scala laughed with Iolaus...the kid was sharp and he looked strong. Yes, he would do. With a nod, he said, "Well, Iolaus, I am Scala...and this is my ship, the Seawitch. We'll be sailing in the hour...Demetrius will take you on board. He tells me you know how to get around a ship."

Iolaus nodded, "I've trimmed a sail or two in my time, plotted a course by the stars at the helm at night. I'll manage."

"Can you also manage a sword?"

Iolaus grinned. "Aye aye, sir...and a bow as well."

Scala laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Then, welcome aboard. I'll talk with you again after we're out of port to explain our business in more detail."

Iolaus nodded, then turned to follow Demetrius onto the ship. As he reached the deck, he could see the naval ships across the harbour as they weighed anchor and set out to sea. His eyes narrowed for a moment, thinking about the mission his friends were undertaking...and wondered what the future would hold. He was on board the pirate ship, he was certain of it...and now was not the time to wonder if he had made a mistake in agreeing to this assignment. Too late to turn back now. Taking a deep breath of the fresh, salty air, Iolaus turned to follow Demetrius aft toward the stern. As he turned away from the bow, he spotted a young boy with a heavy iron slave's shackle around his neck. 'Wonder who he is,' Iolaus thought as he headed astern.

The sail had caught the wind, drawing the ship beyond the harbour's entrance, as Jason and Hercules returned to the Captain's side in the bow. He was leaning on the rail, looking back into the harbour, toward the docks. Jason and Herc both had to brace against the roll of the ship, leaning back to compensate for it's angle as it cut through the sea. Cletus noted their arrival and nodded back at the docks. "See that vessel at the far end?" he asked. When the young men nodded, he continued, "She's the Seawitch...she's the one we'll be keeping a special eye out for. It's a good bet, she's the pirates' vessel, but, we'll need to give her room to roam a bit, to catch her in the act."

Hercules studied the ship with a keen interest, wondering if Iolaus was yet on board. The Captain noted the worry in Herc's eyes with concern, misunderstanding the cause. "Don't worry, lad...if we have to fight her, we'll win. You won't be a meal for the denizens of Poseidon's realm." Fear was no shame, providing the youth would fight when the time came. Only fools were never afraid.

Herc heard his words with surprise...concerns for his own wellbeing had never occurred to him...and the surprise showed on his face. Jason hastened to explain. "We're not worried about that, Captain...our best friend has joined the Seawitch's crew as an undercover agent for the King. His role will be more dangerous than our's...."

"Ah, I see," responded Cletus thoughtfully as he gazed back at the pirates' ship. "Well, in that case, may Poseidon watch over him...."

The words brought Hercules no comfort. He knew only too well the unlikelihood of his uncle taking any personal interest in Iolaus' wellbeing. The gods just weren't all that interested in the lives of individual mortals. As their ship cleared the headland, Herc could see the Seawitch unfurl her sails to catch the wind out of the harbour behind them.

They had been at sea for an hour, and Iolaus had just swallowed the last bite of his allotment of the cold supper of bread, cheese, olives and pickle that was the crew's ration, along with a mug of ale (far better than that served in the dive on the wharf), when Demetrius sought him out. "Scala wants to see you now," he said as he turned to lead Iolaus forward, to the bow of the ship. Night had fallen, but the skies were clear, the stars and the full moon giving the sea a ghostly look of silver grey. It was as if they were alone in an empty world of water. Iolaus adjusted his gait to compensate for the roll of the ship as it tacked into the wind.

They found Scala in the bow, attended by the boy in the slave's collar. The tyke couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. His dark thatch of hair was caught by the wind, blown back from his face. His eyes were large as he regarded them with caution. He held a lyre almost as big as he was himself. Who was this kid? What was he doing on the ship?

Scala caught Iolaus' curious look. "Iolaus...I'd like you to meet Arion." As Scala ruffled the lad's hair, Iolaus caught the slight flinch before Arion settled to endure the touch. "Silly lad...we found him a couple of days ago, sitting alone on some rocks by the sea south of here....playing his lyre and singing to the fishes...a gang of dolphins were capering about in the water in front of him...never seen the like. I thought to myself, 'every gentleman should have his own musician', so, we picked him up and brought him along. You sing well, don't you lad," Scala rumbled before turning back to Iolaus, "he could outsing the sirens, given the chance!"

Iolaus kept his thoughts to himself. 'Gentleman'...as if. They'd enslaved the poor kid...and he looked scared....as well he might. This was no place for a child. Pretending to accept Scala's explanation, Iolaus turned his attention from the boy, and focused on the pirate, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"So, Iolaus...you're a bright lad...you'll have figured out the game, I'm sure," Scala began.

Iolaus gave a half grin and a nod. "Salvage, I understand...saving goods on less worthy vessels from a certain fate on the bottom of the sea."

Scala chuckled. "Exactly, lad...you've got it." Shaking his head, as if in sad reflection, Scala continued, "and, you know, we've been right to rescue the goods...in every case, they've been trapped on vessels that did indeed fail to ever again reach port. It's a service we provide...so much would be lost, if not for our good work."

Iolaus grinned back. "And, not wanting to make any assumptions, can I ask how the goods, or their proceeds, are shared by the crew?"

"Well, as you can understand, it's my ship, so, to give a fair return on my investment, I take half. Then, the rest is split equally amongst the crew. It's a good life, lad....you may find yourself burdened with possessions before much time goes by."

Iolaus nodded appreciatively. The crew wasn't large...and, given the success this ship had enjoyed in the recent past, everyone aboard could be assured of personal wealth in a very short time indeed. Who said crime doesn't pay? Oh yeah...the King...and the sailors of all the ships he knew had to be surrounding them somewhere out on the silent sea.

Iolaus gazed out upon the waves. "So, we keep an eye out for unseaworthy vessels overly laden with goods in danger of being lost in an imminent wreck and move in to offer what ever aid and comfort we can share."

"You're a quick one, Iolaus...keep your eyes sharp, and your mouth closed, and you'll do just fine." Scala spoke mildly enough...but the threat was there.

Iolaus brought his eyes back to meet those looking down at him. Gods, this guy was huge. Smiling brightly, Iolaus assured him, "No worries...my eyesight is good...and, I've learned how to talk all night without saying anything at all."

Scala clapped him on the shoulder as he turned to Arion. "Hey, lad, it's late...show Iolaus belowdecks, where he can get some rest before he takes on the middle watch." Arion nodded as, with a silent look at Iolaus, he led the way to the gangway to the deck below.

Iolaus followed quietly until they were out of hearing range of the men in the bow. The ship creaked around them, the sound of the waves against the hull clear in the quiet of the night. The crew was disciplined to make no unnecessary noise and most had turned in right after the evening meal. As they neared the gangway, Iolaus commented softly, "That's an interesting necklace you're wearing, Arion...makes quite a fashion statement."

The child continued moving forward silently, the only sign that he had heard was a slight tenseness in his shoulders. Iolaus felt sorry for the kid, but it was too soon to make any promises about helping him. Nevertheless, Iolaus vowed to himself that he would do all he could to make sure this kid stayed safe until he could get him off the ship and away from Scala.

Belowdecks, Iolaus stood by the hammock Arion assigned to him. The hold was full of snoring pirates, their stentorous sounds blending with the creaking of the vessel, the snap of the wind in the sails above and the slap of the waves around them. "Thanks, kid," he said, then put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder before the lad could turn away. Bending down on one knee, Iolaus looked the child in the eyes as he whispered, "Arion, you don't have to be afraid of me...maybe we could even be friends." Arion didn't say anything, but he saw something in Iolaus' eyes that warmed him...almost made him feel safe for the first time since the pirates had stolen him from the shore. He nodded once, then pulled away, to curl up on some sacks piled against the wall of the vessel not far from Iolaus' hammock.

As Iolaus lay curled in his woven cradle, scarcely rocking notwithstanding the motion of the ship, he thought about what he could do to slow the pirates down, to help the King's vessels to find and capture them. Accidents happened all the time at sea...sailors could be lost overboard or injured so that they couldn't fight. Not too many...but a few. The only problem was, he didn't know if he could just coldly drop someone helpless into the sea. He hadn't ever been an assassin....but, accidents...a few broken bones....that he could do. These men were killers...the only innocent on the ship was Arion and Iolaus would watch out for him. Iolaus yawned, let his eyes drift close, let his mind steal off into slumber.

Iolaus was jerked back into wakefulness by the rough shaking of his shoulder by the pirate who had just finished the first watch. The man was tired and wanted the hammock...it was Iolaus' turn to go up on deck. Yawning as he stretched, Iolaus nodded and clambored out onto the deck. He glanced down at Arion as he walked past, but in the dark, he couldn't tell if the kid was sleeping or not. Climbing up onto the upper deck, he noticed the wind had picked up and clouds blowing across the moon darkened the sky. He shivered a bit in the chill air, rubbing his arms as he moved aft toward the man on the helm on the quarterdeck. Yawning again, he nodded at the man, who returned the casual greeting. "You'll be the new man," he spoke quietly. "My name's Dirkus...what's your's?"

"Iolaus. So, anything special I should be doing?"

Dirkus shook his head. "Nope, nothing beyond keeping an eye out on the horizon. If the wind picks up any further, we may need to trim the tops'ls." With a glance up at the snapping sails, Iolaus nodded his understanding. At least it wasn't raining. He continued his stroll around the ship, 'testing' the bindings on barrels stored on deck...amazing how many seemed looser after his inspection than before. Finally, he reached the bow where he took up his post, hunkering down a bit to shelter from the wind. Given the chance, he might be able to 'inadvertantly' damage the tops'ls if the wind conveniently tore the ropes from his grasp while he was trying to furl it. Despite the chill, Iolaus hoped the wind would worsen.

His chance to wreak a little havoc came just before the end of his watch. It had been raining for the past hour and the deck was slick, the ship pitching in a heavy sea. The wind had begun to shriek in the sails, and they'd need to furl the tops'ls to relieve the tension on the masts. Dirkus called him back then directed him to wake two others to help before manning the ropes. Iolaus went below and woke the two pirates closest to the gangway...neither of whom thanked him for disturbing their beauty sleep. Back on deck, he fought against the wind and the slanting rain to begin working on the ropes which controlled the forward tops'l. The rain and wild wind helped...he pulled a bit too hard, jerked the rope just enough to tangle it and the sail became too tight against the wind, ripping from the strain. Perfect...no one could suspect this was more than an accident. A torn sail was a such a frequent occurance that sailors became expert seamstresses early in their careers.

Even better, the wind shifted abruptly, causing the ship to wallow dangerously in the angry waves. Dirkus fought the tiller, called to one of the others to loose the booms to allow the ship to come around into the wind. Iolaus saw the boom swing, but could tell the pirate nearest him was unaware of the maneouvre underway. Ducking below the long swinging log of wood which anchored the forward mains'l, Iolaus watched as the boom caught the unsuspecting pirate across the back, knocking him senseless to the deck. Nice. Very nice. Iolaus cried out helpfully, calling for assistance to care for the injured man...helped carry him below decks...helped assess his injuries. Poor man looked like he had shattered a shoulder and broken an arm. Pity. Once they had bound the man's injuries, leaving him swinging securely in a hammock, Iolaus went back up on deck to see what more help he could give....unfortunately, Dirkus advised him that his watch was over, and that he should try to get some sleep.

Iolaus grabbed a piece of sacking belowdecks, dried himself off as best he could, found a blanket and curled up in a hammock. It wasn't long before he had drifted off to a well earned sleep.

The next day, the wind had not abated, but, if anything, had picked up. The deck pitched sharply in the heavy seas which cascaded over the decks enough to keep the wood slippery underfoot. At least it had stopped raining. Tying back his long hair to keep it from whipping in the wind, Iolaus took a deep, appreciative breath of the fresh sea air as he came up from belowdecks and looked around the ship and over the horizon. Again, they seemed alone in a world of rough water. His glance took in the tied down barrels, which seemed to be lurching against their bindings more than they had the night before, but, in the daylight, he decided to stay well away from them to ensure no one suspected his tampering.

He could hear music on the wind, delicate, almost ethereal. Turning toward the quarterdeck, he spotted Arion strumming his lyre. The child was completely engrossed in his music...probably the only way his mind could escape from the horror of his captivity. In that moment, the boy lifted his voice onto the wind, where it was caught and carried over the sea. Mesmerized, Iolaus granted that Scala had been right...the child's voice was beyond beautiful. It captured the senses, inspired the soul. The haunting voice seemed to gather the wind to it, causing it to blow to the music's cadence while it gathered the storm clouds above them until lightning flashed to the beat of the music. Iolaus shook himself...he was getting fanciful. It was only a continuation of last night's storm moving across the sky to drench them once again.

Just before the rain began, Arion stopped his singing, and, taking his lyre, he disappeared belowdecks. The kid was smart enough to know when to come in out of the rain, but the rest of the crew lacked the same choices. Once again, Iolaus found himself soaked to the skin, battling with ropes and dodging the boom as it swung on the wind. Buffetted by the shrieking tempest, he and the others fought to maintain their footing on the slippery, pitching deck...a deck soon made more hazardous by barrels which had mysteriously slipped their moorings and were rolling wildly in all directions. Iolaus had to hide his glee when one sailor after another suffered a broken foot or ankle, or twisted a knee jumping out of the way of the careening obstacles. He rushed with the others to grapple with the loose barrels, struggling in the melee to push them back into place, tying them down with rope made awkward and stiff by the salt water which had soaked and twisted it. All around him, the storm howled, while men screamed out in pain or shouted instructions to one another. It wasn't exactly chaos, but there was enough confusion for him to trip yet another sailor without appearing to do so, causing yet another injury to the beleaguered crew.

Quirking an eyebrow as he surveyed the decks, Iolaus felt an internal glow of satisfaction...he always liked it when a plan came together. Of course, the storm had helped. Thinking again about the way the wind and weather had seemed to respond to Arion's music, he chuckled to himself. 'Careful, Iolaus,' he cautioned, 'you know there can't have possibly been any connection...it was just' he screwed up his forehead, trying to remember what Fiduceous called it, 'oh yeah, pathetic fallacy.' He could hear the dry voice of the tutor in his mind describing the fortuitous alignment of natural phenomena such as storms or fine, summer days with the hopes or experiences of men, leading them to think somehow the natural world around them was in tune with their desires. 'Pathetic fallacy,' Iolaus thought as he surveyed the damaged crew...well, 'pathetic, anyway.' Slipping back into his 'helpful new guy' persona, he aided several of the others to get belowdecks, wrapped injured limbs, commiserated with those so unfortunate as to be injured.

Finally, the storm abated, the hot sun quickly drying the decks and sails. Iolaus stood in the wind at the bow of the vessel, revelling in the fresh air that blew past his face, tearing at his unruly hair. He felt a large hand fall on his shoulder and turned to face Scala.

"So, you've managed to stay in one piece, have you, Iolaus?" the large man rumbled, examining him with proprietary satisfaction.

"Aye, sir...too bad about the others. We took too many injuries in that last blow." Iolaus responded, with a feigned look of worry about the fate of so many of his comrades. There were nine pirates more or less out of commission belowdecks. He'd done better than he'd had any right to hope when he'd loosened the bindings on those barrels last night.

"Aye," sighed Scala, looking out across the horizon, "and it doesn't help to have lost one of the mains'ls today, along with the tops'l last night. We'll not be able to do much more than drift a bit until we get them repaired. Ah well, the sea is a harsh mistress...but, beautiful, eh! And, we love her...don't we, lad!" He chuckled as he slapped Iolaus on the shoulder before turning away.

Iolaus chuckled with him, as he looked back across the waves...beautiful, yes, but a little too cold for his taste. Iolaus shivered involuntarily as he imagined being embraced by this particular mistress. 'Don't go there, Iolaus,' he cautioned himself. He had always had an irrational fear of drowning. Shaking himself from his reverie, Iolaus went back along the deck to see where he might be helpful, and found himself assigned to the repair of the tops'l which had been torn in the storm the night before. Grinning to himself, he thought, 'a good spy's work is never done!' Taking up the bone needle with the long linen thread, he began the repair...too bad he wasn't much of a seamstress, leaving some gaps that would only inevitably lead to new tears once the sail was again in place.

As he worked, Iolaus noticed that Arion had crept up to sit quietly nearby, his ever present lyre anchored firmly in the crook of his arm. Iolaus kept focused on his work, but began to speak, softly, as if to himself. "I think I heard an angel singing just before the storm...couldn't have been, I guess...but, I've never heard anything so beautiful." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the child give a quick half smile of pleasure before the expressionless mask he typically wore reclaimed his face. Iolaus sighed. It wasn't right. No child should have to endure such fear...have to hide their feelings.

Continuing to work on the sail, he mumbled, "Must be lonely being a kid on this ship. Family must be worried, too, wondering where their son has gone...."

A soft voice whispered in his ear, "I think my family knows where I am...."

Iolaus thought about this, nodded. Maybe. The pirates were no secret along the coast...and it wasn't the first time a child would have been shanghaied, disappearing without a trace. Slavers, too, took kids silently, never to be seen again. Grimacing for a moment, after having stuck the needle into one of his fingers, he sucked briefly on the injured digit, then murmured, "Well, once we get back into port, maybe we can get you back to your family."

The child was silent a moment more, then whispered, "I think they might not wait...I think they might come for me....."

Iolaus smiled sadly. Of course the child had to hope someone was out looking for him, would rescue him eventually. It would be cruel to dispel such hopes. "Maybe," he agreed, biting off a thread, "I'd be out looking for you, if you were mine." The child started at the warmth and sincerity behind the words. This man was different from the others. This man cared. The child angled closer, leaning against Iolaus, relaxing against him...relaxing for the first time since he'd been dragged onto the ship. Iolaus smiled down at the lad as he continued his work on the sail.

Iolaus was unaware of one of the pirates further forward on the ship, who was giving him a pensive look, frowning slightly, as if trying to remember something, as he stared at the new guy mending the sail.

The Royal ships had had an easier time of it. While they'd suffered a bit of the rough weather on the edge of the system which had seemed to centre in the area occupied by the Seawitch, there had been no damage or injuries. Jason and Hercules had fallen into the rythym of the ship, doing their share of the perpetual maintenance activities required on any vessel, drilling with the sailors in preparation for battle, taking tours of watch in the night. On the first day, their ship, Polaris, had escorted one heavily loaded merchant ship away from the Pelopponessian coast on it's journey to Crete and Rhodos. Several times, their ship had edged sufficiently close to spot the top masts of the Seawitch on the horizon, but had immediately tacked away so as not to alert the pirate crew to their presence. They had seen enough, though, to know the pirates had lost one tops'l in the storms the ship had endured.

Hercules kept catching himself unconsciously searching the horizon to the north, towards the area occupied by the Seawitch. He, along with the others, knew there had been a vicious storm in that sector the day before. He couldn't help worrying about Iolaus, no matter how often he assured himself that his friend could handle himself, could handle trouble. Iolaus was probably having the time of his life, playing the swashbuckling pirate and intrepid spy. Jason noted Herc's concern, and shared it, but didn't say anything. This mission required patience and hope. Worrying wouldn't help either of them, would only undermine their confidence. Besides, he told himself, unconsciously mimicking Hercules in his mind, Iolaus could handle himself, could handle trouble.

No one, not even Iolaus, had thought about what he would do the first time he was required to fight with the pirates in capturing a merchant ship...the first time he would have to watch innocent, hardworking seamen fight for their lives.

It was late on the second day at sea when the Seawitch spotted the merchantman on the horizon. Heavily loaded, the target lumbered across the sea. The Seawitch closed on her victim with laughable ease, the lighter ship dancing across the waves, all of her sails once again intact and billowing full with the wind. The pirates broke out their store of weapons, readying themselves to toss grappling hooks as the ships converged, to draw the vessels tight together allowing them to board.

The Captain of the merchantman saw them overtaking his ship, tried to steer away, using every breath of the wind his sails could capture. But, he knew an attack was inevitable. He called to his own crew, rallying them to fight for the ship...for their lives. The men needed little encouragement. All knew the stories of the ships lost over the last the few weeks and were frightened of being the next statistics. Gripping their weapons, they watched the pirates gain upon them, waiting grimly for the attack.

Aboard the Seawitch, Iolaus watched the distance between the two vessels close. Gripping his sword, he studied the others on his ship, saw the feral grins of men eager to fight and kill, felt their exhilaration in anticipation of their victory. Gods. What was he going to do now? He couldn't kill those innocent sailors...could he just stand back and watch them be killed? All at once, he wished he'd been less skillful at missing those barrels yesterday when they were rolling around the deck. A modest injury could have kept him out of this conflict. 'Typical, Iolaus,' he thought, irritated with himself, 'never thinking far enough ahead.'

Unobtrusively, he edged himself back from the rail, balancing against the roll of the ship to stand behind the others. He still wasn't aware of the one that kept an uneasy eye on him, trying to recall where he had seen Iolaus before. There was something that bothered him about this new guy. Something that told him the kid couldn't be trusted...but he couldn't remember what it was. Iolaus cast a look around the ship, searching for Arion, but didn't see him. Good. The lad had hidden himself away, out of danger. Scala was up on the quarterdeck, calling out orders to the men in the rigging and to the man on the helm, guiding them ever closer to their quarry.

It all happened faster than Iolaus liked. In minutes they had overtaken the larger ship, were coming up alongside and the grappling hooks were thrown, men hauling on the ropes to draw the ships together, tying them down. The sailors on the merchant ship hacked at the heavy ropes attached to the grappling hooks, but there wasn't time to cut through them before the Seawitch was alongside and pirates were pouring over onto their decks. Men came together, fighting for balance as the ships ground together, bumping wooden siding as the seas continued to roll around them, fighting one another for their lives. Swords and cutlasses flashed and clanged together as steel met steel. Blood gushed from slashes to limbs and deep thrusts to bellies and groins. Men screamed in anger, and pain, while others roared out their unholy joy in battle. Wind toar at unmanned canvas as the ships started to wallow in the trench of the waves.

At first, Iolaus tried to hang back, tried to stay out of the fight...but he was sickened by the slaughter in front of him. He couldn't just let these sailors be massacred and do nothing to help them. They weren't warriors, they didn't know how to fend off the vicious assault of the pirates. Iolaus moved into the battle, using his sword and knife to block the thrusts of pirates, tripping some unobtrusively so that the sailors could take them out, knocking others overboard. He didn't like killing...didn't want to kill. But first one pirate, then another, realized Iolaus was more than just inept, realized he was protecting the merchantman's sailors, and Iolaus found himself fighting with the pirates. And, he couldn't just wound them...it was kill or be killed. One pirate further along the deck turned, saw Iolaus fighting...and remembered. The kid had been one of the guys who had rescued the Amazons on the slave ship the pirate had sailed on the year before. The guy was a cadet from that fancy Academy near Corinth. The pirate saw Iolaus grapple with another pirate, saw Iolaus kill him. The guy was a spy!

Unable to do anything with his knowledge, too busy fighting the sailors around him, the pirate shouted to his colleagues to watch their backs, to watch the new guy, as he turned his attention back to the business of overcoming the merchantman's crew. The honest men fought bravely, but they were no match for the pirates...there weren't enough of them, nor did they have the skill. One by one, they died. In less than half an hour, the merchantman belonged to the pirate crew.

Iolaus was sickened by the outcome, by the loss of innocent lives...sickened by having had to kill. He stared around him at the carnage on the deck, unable to summon up the will to cheer with the others at their victory. Wiping off his sword, he replaced it in his scabbard, and began the business of inventorying the ship's cargo, began to work with the others to transfer the best stuff to the Seawitch. In his despair, he failed to notice the whispers amongst the others, the grim looks which were cast in his direction, as word of his perfidy spread amongst the pirates. Some wanted to kill him outright, but wiser minds cautioned to wait for Scala to decide what to do with him.

It was only when they had shifted the last of the cargo and had set the merchantman aflame, it's rigging quickly consumed by the fire which hungrily ate it's way into the rope and wood of the vessel, that Iolaus felt his arm grabbed in visorlike grip, felt himself being yanked around to face a coldly furious Scala. Without a word, Scala backhanded him across the face, a powerful blow which sent Iolaus to his knees. Scala reached down and dragged the smaller man back to his feet, throwing him toward the mast, where he was caught by other pirates. "Tie him," thundered Scala, as he shook out a cat o' nine tails, a vicious instrument of discipline made of iron tipped whips of leather bound together.

Iolaus struggled, but there were too many of them. The pirates lashed Iolaus's arms to the mast, and tore his shirt from his back, exposing it for the whip. Iolaus couldn't see much from his position hugging the mast, but he did catch sight of Arion, up on the quarterdeck, the boy's eyes wide with horror. Not knowing what else to do, Iolaus winked at the lad, gave him a reassuring grin, then gritted his teeth, waiting for what was to come. Throughout it all, Iolaus held the boy's eyes with his own, the only way he had of keeping the lad from watching the brutality of the whipping itself. Or, at least, he tried, as he tried not to let the agony of each lash show in his expression.

With each heavy stroke, Scala thundered out an epiphet or question. The first stroke, "Damn you, boy...you killed my men!" and the iron tips scored Iolaus' back. "You stinking traitor!", the second stroke cut and drew blood. "I'll see you dead!", the third dug into muscle. "Who are you?", the fourth cut into his left side. "Who sent you?", the fifth lashed his lower back over the kidneys. "The King?", the sixth left the bleached white of bone gleaming through the raw ruin of skin and muscle. "You'll regret being born!", the seventh scored along his right ribs. "You miserable scum!", the eighth cut into his shoulder and neck. "Piece of royal filth!", the ninth dug further into the ruin of his upper back. Blood was streaming freely down his back and legs, pooling on the deck beneath him. "May you rot in Hades!", the tenth, blessedly, was enough to overwhelm his consciousness, allowing Iolaus to sink into the welcome arms of oblivion, his body slumped against the mast, the binding of his wrists the only thing that held him in place. Furious, Scala lashed him five more times, before reason took hold. If he killed the lad outright, he'd lose his chance to find out what the kid knew. Breathing heavily, he let the weapon drop to the deck.

Before he stomped off to the quarter deck, he ordered, "When he wakes up, throw a bucket of salt water on his back. The next time he wakes up, call me." Turning to climb to the upper deck, Scala cursed to himself. Dammit, he'd liked this kid...really thought he'd had potential...and he was a spy! Dammit. If Demetrius hadn't been one of the pirates killed by Iolaus on the decks of the merchantman, Scala would have killed him himself for having brought the slime on board.

Arion had watched with a painful sense of helplessness as his friend was whipped into unconsciousness. Iolaus had not once cried out, had tried to hide the agony of the assault, but Arion had seen Iolaus' face pale from the pain of the whip, saw him flinch when his skin and muscle was torn, saw him lose consciousness...was afraid he was dead. Unconsciously, Arion had been holding his breath, and had to gasp painfully for air when Iolaus slumped against the mast. Feeling sick, Arion tore his eyes away, but not before he had seen the blood...so much of it. If only there was someway he could help. Looking up at the clear, cloudless sky, he began to hum, then he was singing softly, a haunting melody, like a plea from the heart.

Iolaus had barely regained consciousness...only enough to feel the pitiless burning from the deep wounds which scored his back. He hissed in pain...but, it was all the watchers needed to know he was once again alert. One gleefully snatched up the bucket of salt water they had readied for this moment, and threw it full on his back. Unprepared, Iolaus screamed as the salt tore into the open wounds of his back, assaulting the raw skin and muscle. It was too much, and he once again lapsed into unconsciousness.

Arion gasped at the animal sound of agony and whipped around to once again face toward his friend, seeing him slumped against the mast, surrounded by the laughing pirates who took such satisfaction from his torment. Tears brimmed in Arion's eyes as he again took up his song.

Scala heard the scream and smiled. Good, he hadn't killed the lad. He'd soon find out what the youth knew. Standing by the rail of the quarterdeck, Scala gazed back at the burning hulk of the merchantman, as it slowly settled, then sank beneath the waves. In his satisfaction, he didn't notice the clouds which were again beginning to gather in the west.

The lookout spotted the smoke and called down to the Captain, pointing to the north. Hearing the call, Hercules and Jason broke off their chores to stare out over the sea toward the north, straining until they, too, could make out the telltale sign of smoke.

"Damn," muttered the Captain as he called to the helm to turn the ship toward the spiral of smoke. The pirates had found another victim. Damn. Well, he'd catch them this time...this time, they wouldn't get away. The captain knew other royal ships would have spotted the smoke and would also be headed toward it, but they were the closest. The quarry was their's.

The skin between Herc's shoulder blades itched, and he felt as if a hand was squeezing his heart. 'Iolaus', he thought with dismay. Was he alright? Had he survived the pirate attack? Hercules willed the wind to pick up, willed the ship to fly faster over the intervening waves. He needed to see his friend, needed to know he was alright. So caught up was he with concern over his friend, Hercules didn't even feel the comforting hand Jason had placed on his shoulder, as he too stood at the rail, staring out across the water to the horizon.

To the northwest, the new storm continued to build.

Even before Iolaus had once again regained consciousness, the lookout in the crowsnest of the pirate ship had spotted the top of a mast of an unknown ship sailing toward them from over the horizon to the south. Scala ordered his crew to trim the sails to catch the wind, ensuring the Seawitch sped across the water in the opposite direction. He didn't need to be a genius to guess that it was trouble coming toward him from the south. A royal ship, he was sure of it. Scanning the horizon, he wondered how many more might be out there.

Not much later, Iolaus heard someone groaning...it was a minute or two before he realized it was himself. He could hardly swallow, his mouth was so dry from the bloodloss and from being tied out in the merciless sun. His back felt as if it was on fire, blazing with renewed vigour whenever he moved...so, he tried very hard to remain perfectly still. He heard all the normal sounds of the ship...snapping sails, creaking timbers, the slap of waves, catcalls from one man to another...but, over these sounds, almost as if it was part of the wind itself, he heard a haunting melody...a high, sad voice sending a wordless hymn to the gods. Arion. At least the kid was still alright.

Iolaus considered his position and decided it wasn't good. He tested the ropes binding him to the mast, but there didn't seem to be any give, no way to work his way loose. Even if he could, there was nowhere to go. Could he bluff his way out of this? How much did Scala know...how much was he just guessing? Maybe he could string Scala along for enough time to allow the King's ships to overtake them. Remembering the smoke from the derelict, Iolaus knew the good guys had to be on their tail.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his hair and harshly pulled his head back. "Oww!" he protested. No need to let these guys think he was some kind of hero! But, then he noticed the singing had stopped at his outcry, and he knew he had to retain some semblance of dignity, for Arion's sake, if not his own.

He found himself looking up into Scala's angry eyes. The guy sure didn't look happy. Ah well, Iolaus couldn't blame him. Nobody liked a spy. Such was the loneliness of someone undercover in the service of the King. Scala saw the cocky look and gave the hair another good yank, bringing tears of pain to his victim's eyes.

"So, you're awake, finally. Now, you'll tell me all you know," ordered Scala.

Iolaus frowned, as if he was thinking. "Um, where do you want me to start...with my knowledge about woodcraft, or would you rather hear about the latest in mathematical theory. Then again, I could begin with a review of the history of the gods."

Scala growled in frustration and slammed Iolaus' head into the mast, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to knock him out again.

"Guess he's not interested in all I know," Iolaus mumbled to himself. His head was pounding in time with the throbbing from this back. This wasn't turning out to be a good day. Still, he could hear Arion singing again, so it wasn't all bad. Now, if a royal ship or two would just show up....

Scala pulled Iolaus' head back again, staring down into the defiant eyes which met his gaze from the battered, pale face of his captive. The kid had guts. Pulling hard on the hair, so that Iolaus' head was arched painfully back, his neck exposed and vulnerable, Scala pulled out his blade and laid it along Iolaus' throat, just barely nicking the skin. The only reaction he got was a slight narrowing of the eyes and a hard swallow as Iolaus fought the dryness in his throat.

Holding the blade in place, Scala started again. "Alright, let's assume you're a spy for the King...." only to be interrupted when Iolaus grated, "Never make assumptions...." Scala grinned coldly as his blade drew a little more blood, this time winning a wince from his victim.

"Now is not the time for games, Iolaus. Tell me the King's plan."

Iolaus forced the parody of a grin, as he replied, "That's easy enough...he plans to capture you and your worthless crew...and then he plans to hang you." Somewhere on the edge of his awareness, Iolaus could hear Arion singing with a new urgency, an almost pleading sound to the music. Poor kid. Wish he didn't have to watch this. Iolaus figured he was about to lose his head...literally. The kid would have nightmares for years.

"Details, Iolaus...I want the details," Scala rumbled, still referring to the King's plan. The guy sure had a one track mind.

"Well, let's see," Iolaus grated through his dry, stretched throat. "He's got all these ships surrounding you...and you helpfully lit a bonfire to attract their attention. Give it up, Scala, you can't win this time. Surrender to me and I'll try to get them to go easy on you."

Scala couldn't help himself, he had to laugh at the audacity of the young pup. "The King will take your advice, will he?" chuckled Scala, without yet removing the knife from Iolaus' exposed throat.

"He might," grinned Iolaus, "it's the only chance you've got."

Scala gazed thoughtfully down at the youth, little more than a boy himself. He didn't look like much, but, still, he might be of some use as a hostage. The King would hardly have sent someone he didn't personally trust to infiltrate the pirate crew. Maybe there could be a trade...maybe. He wouldn't kill the kid yet. Lifting the blade, he was distracted by a frightened cry by the lookout.

Looking up at his crewman, he bellowed for more information, then followed the pointing hand to the sea. When he saw what had frightened his crewman, his mouth dropped open in consternation. By the gods! It was a sea monster! And, beyond the monster, he could see the growing shape of a royal corsair. Damn. Just what he needed right now. And, beyond the corsair, he could see the storm building. One threat at a time...the monster came first.

It was gigantic, rising out of the sea, a darker, more ominous green than the waves around it. The long neck was topped by a gruesome head which seemed all mouth full of curved, sharp fangs. There wasn't much his crew could do to fight the monster, nor could they outrun it. Iolaus twisted his head around, anxious to see what had caused the crew to freeze in the grip of overwhelming horror, and caught sight of the nightmare bearing down upon them. 'By Poseidon's Trident,' he thought, 'we're all going to die!'

He heard Scala curse the fates with a rich and creative flair, then he heard Scala order one of the pirates to bring him the boy, Arion. Why? What the....and then, Iolaus froze in despair at what he knew Scala must be planning. The only way to appease the fury of the gods was with the sacrifice of an innocent.

"NO!!!" screamed Iolaus, as he frantically struggled against the ropes which bound him to the mast. "SCALA! You can't do this! SCALA!!!!"

"Shut up!" commanded the master of the vessel, while he kept a wary eye on the monster forging toward them across the sea.

"SCALA! He's just a kid...don't do this...You godcursed, good for nothing excuse for a man....don't hurt him....SCALA!"

Arion had been brought forward and pushed toward Scala. The rough treatment caused the boy to stumble across the deck, slip and fall to his knees against Iolaus. Arion held onto his friend, whispered frantically, "It'll be alright....Iolaus...don't worry....."

Iolaus' heart twisted as he listened to the child trying to comfort him. Gods...this couldn't be happening. "Scala, please..." he begged, "please....use me, instead...don't hurt the boy...please...."

Iolaus heard the boy gasp, "No...!" but, Scala was considering the offer. The boy was worth more to him than the troublesome spy. Would he be an acceptable sacrifice to appease the gods? Why not? The kid could be considered a sort of hero, after all...he was innocent of wrongdoing...probably had a good soul. Scala grinned cynically. "Why not?" he enquired out loud, as he signalled to one of his crew to cut Iolaus away from the mast.

Two crewmen dragged Iolaus to the rail while a third literally had to peel a screaming Arion from his friend's body. Scala looked out across the waves toward the monster that was gaining on them, it's mouth agape, eager to taste it's victims' flesh. Iolaus tried to comfort Arion, murmuring, "It's alright, Arion...better this way...they were going to kill me anyway...please, don't cry, Arion....shhh, it's alright...."

Scala cried out across the waves. "POSEIDON, your followers honour you...and send you the best amongst us to appease your fury! We are all men of the sea...we all sing your praises. Take this sacrifice to feed your servant, to satisfy his appetite...and let the rest of us go safe, to honour you again with our songs. Take his life as our gift!"

Scala turned to pick up Iolaus, holding the slight youth above his head, so that he could be clearly seen by the monster. Iolaus refused to look at the sea below, refused to gaze upon the monster which would take his life. He looked to the sky and sent his thoughts to his friend. "Herc, please hurry...you've got to help this kid before they kill him, too! Herc....gods, Herc...I'll miss you...."

And, then he was flying through space and falling, falling until he hit the cold waves below and sank. The salt tore into his back, forcing an involuntary scream...only to have water rush into his mouth, drowning his voice....drowning him. He fought back, kicking against the water, forcing himself up until his face was above the sea. Choking and gasping, he drew in the blessed air. Treading in the water, he could see the massive wooden sides of the ship rising high above him on his left...and, on his right, he could see the monster's head coming down toward him. All around him, it was silent, except for the sound of the waves against the ship, and the haunting, chanting voice of Arion, calling to the sea, calling for mercy, calling desperately for help for his friend in a language none understood...the language of the gods.

The ship quickly moved away, putting distance between itself and the sea monster. Iolaus looked around desperately, wondering if there was any chance of avoiding what seemed a certain death. Iolaus dove under the water, trying to ignore the screaming agony from his back, swimming in an oblique direction away from both the ship and the monster. As a minimum, he could play a game of tag with the creature, draw it away from the ship, draw it away from Arion, keep the kid safe.

But, it was futile, one of the monster's massive legs clipped him, sending him careening toward the bottom, too far to come back up for air. His lungs protested, the muscles of his chest straining, wanting desperately to draw in sustenance. He fought his own body as long as he could, trying to drag himself up through the water to the light above...but, it was too far. The whipping had left him too weak. The pain was overwhelming, too much...too much to overcome. He was so close to the light above the waves...so close. Driven by involuntary reflexes he could no longer control, his chest heaved, sucking desperately for air, getting water instead. He choked and thrashed, fought the darkness blurring his vision, gagged, tried to cough only to take in more water. He couldn't....he was so tired....it was all.... 'Herc,' he thought, as the darkness crept up upon him. Iolaus' limp body was slipping further below the waves when something grabbed strongly at one shoulder. His last thought was that the monster's teeth were softer than he had thought they'd be.....

The royal corsair was close enough to see the monster which had appeared from nowhere to threaten the Seawitch, close enough to see someone thrown from the ship to the sea, to see the glint of golden hair caught by the sun's rays. They saw the pirate ship pull away, saw the monster break off the attack to disappear below the waves. They could see...but they were too far away to intervene. Condemned to be helpless witnesses, the men at the rail watched in horror as the drama played itself out.

Hercules gripped the rail, unconsciously gathering himself to jump over, to swim toward the monster and it's victim. Jason caught and held his friend's arm tightly, heard Herc whisper, "By the gods....Iolaus...." The pain and helplessness made Hercules' voice raw, thick with unshed tears.

"Easy, Herc...we don't know who it was....we'll catch them soon...."

Hercules pulled away. He felt as if he had to fight for breath...he knew...he could feel it. "IOLAUS!" he screamed, caught between despair and fury. "IOLAUS!!! NOOOO!!!!" he cried, until his voice caught and broke off in a sob. Hercules bent over the rail, leaning his arms against it, his face in his hands.

Jason was sick with grief. It was his fault...if he hadn't suggested this assignment to Iolaus....gods....would Herc ever forgive him? Would he ever forgive himself? He gazed out over the now calmer waters between them and the other ship. There was no sign of the monster...or of the man sacrificed to it. "Iolaus," he whispered, "gods, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...."

The corsair was skimming across the waves, rapidly closing the distance between itself and the slower Seawitch. The wind had picked up, was almost at gale force. The storm was closing fast....it was a race between the ship and clouds, both borne by the wind, both raging toward the pirate vessel. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed jagged lines from the sky to the sea, drawing ever closer to the Seawitch which struggled frantically to escape the furies chasing her.

The corsair broached the distance first. Royal archers in the shrouds were picking off pirates even before the two ships collided, the battering ram in the front of the Polaris gouging a deep track through the beams of the larger vessel. Then men were throwing grappling hooks, preparing to board the stricken Seawitch, preparing to capture or kill pirates before the ship sank. Hercules and Jason gripped their swords, ready to jump on board the other vessel, their faces white and drawn with grief. Neither would give up all hope until they had assured themselves Iolaus was no longer on that ship.

As the ships came together, they, and others, used the rails of their smaller ship to clambor up and over the rails of the Seawitch, the archers continuing their merciless cover of fire tipped arrows. The Seawitch's shrouds were already burning. As Hercules and Jason battled determined pirates, they shouted out their friend's name...but heard no answer.

And, then, the storm hit with all it's fury. Rain pelted down upon them, making the deck slick beneath their feet, dousing the fires burning on the Seawitch. Rain mixed with the blood which flowed from the wide, ugly wounds inflicted by both sides on the other. The seas heaved around them, in increasing fury, until it became too dangerous for the two ships to be grappled together. The royal seamen pulled back to their own ship, bearing their wounded with them. The pirates fought with renewed vigour, believing the storm would be their salvation. Jason had lost sight of Hercules who had ducked belowdeck, searching frantically for Iolaus friend, but caught sight of him again just was he climbing back down onto the Polaris. Jason saw Herc scramble up from the hatchway, tossing off pirates as if they were flotsam, battling his way to the quarterdeck, to the massive man who held sway there, calling orders to his crew...the man, Jason realized, who had thrown Iolaus from the Seawitch.

Jason screamed out Herc's name, trying to draw him back to safety, knowing Hercules couldn't hear...wouldn't respond if he could. The royal seamen cut loose the ropes holding the Polaris to the Seawitch, allowing the ships to separate to fight their own individual battles with the raging seas. Hercules was oblivious to this as he raced along the deck of the pirate vessel, his target the man who had killed his friend.

Scala saw the young fury racing toward him but was not really concerned. He could handle the boy. The storm worried him more. Lightning hit a mast, splintering it in a resounding crash and spark of fire. He drew his sword, preparing to address the youth coming toward him, close enough now for Scala to see the raging hate in his eyes. He met Hercules at the top of the steps to the quarterdeck, slashing his sword at the young man's face. Herc countered the attack, using his own strength to force Scala's blade back, as Hercules stormed up the last steps, pushing his way forward, pushing Scala back.

Scala, amazed at the strength which met his own, dropped back to give himself room to maneouvre. Vaguely, he was aware of the boy, Arion, looking on from the far side of the deck, watching the battle unfold. Maybe he could use the child as a shield. Backing in that direction, he met Herc's attack, blade clanging against blade as each man slashed and cut, seeking an advantage. With each slash of his sword, Hercules screamed out at the pirate, "You killed my best friend," he cried. "You threw him into the sea," slash, "to the monster" slash "to save your own worthless hide!" His attack was relentless, overwhelming and Scala knew he was losing ground. "You killed Iolaus!" Herc cried as his last blow caught Scala's wrist, taking his hand, and the sword with it.

Shocked, Scala looked at the blood streaming from his arm. Desperate, he grabbed a knife from his belt with his left hand, encircled Arion with the wreck of his right arm, holding the knife to the boy's throat. "Back off," he screamed above the tumult of the storm, "or the boy dies!"

Hercules paused in his attack, balanced himself against the violent rolling of the vessel. Thunder crashed around them as lightning took down the second mast. Men screamed in terror and agony as the mast crashed down upon them, crushing them to the deck or knocking them overboard to the seas heaving below. The wind shrieked around them. It was chaos.

Hercules dropped his sword, but he wasn't going to quit until this man was in his hands. He spared the boy a glance, startled for a moment at the look of calm in the lad's eyes, and the sudden glint of determination. The boy turned his head slightly, opening his mouth, preparing to bite down on the arm holding him hostage. Herc nodded, understanding the boy would help. With all of the wrath of the god within him unleashed, he advanced resolutely upon the man who had killed his friend....and Scala blanched when he saw the fire in Herc's eyes. There was a kind of madness lurking there...something not quite human.

As soon as Herc was within arm's reach, Arion bit down hard on the arm in front of his face. Scala howled at the unexpected attack from what he had considered a helpless victim. Taken by surprise, he loosened his grip and the boy slipped away. Herc blocked Scala's slash of the knife with one arm, while the other drew back and pounded Scala in the face. But, Scala was a monster of man, huge and strong. He withstood the attack, fought back. The two men grappled, staggering on the heaving deck of the ship, slipping on the rain and bloodsoaked planking. Scala managed to slash one of Herc's arms before Hercules gripped his left arm and squeezed until his hand released the blade. Then, they were slugging it out, pushing one another around the deck, against the railing. At one point, Scala had the advantage, bending Hercules backwards over the rail, towards the sea below. Herc gripped the railing with both hands, then kicked and heaved with his legs, using Scala's own weight and momentum to lever the larger man up and over the rail, to fall, arms flailing helplessly, screaming, into the sea below.

Hercules watched him fall, felt no satisfaction, felt little of anything at all. He was breathing hard, from the fight and from the anger which had consumed him. Now, all he felt was loss. Iolaus wasn't on the ship. Iolaus was dead. Herc slumped down against the railing, the tears he had held back now streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the rain which slashed against his face. Thunder rumbled loudly overhead, lightning flashed again. The sea rose up with increasing fury, the waves mounting one upon another until the ship was floundering, water crashing over her decks and through the mortal wound inflicted by the Polaris' ram.

Herc found a small body pressed up against him and instinctively, his arm went around the child to hold him tight. Incredibly, the child was singing, a triumphant chant, rising above the crash of the world around them, mingling with the wind and thunder. The child's arms snaked around Herc's neck, locking himself against Herc's body. The ship lurched, throwing them both against the far railing, and still they held onto one another. Hercules looked around, scanning the seas for the corsair, but the rain and massive waves rising around them obscured the other vessel. The Seawitch tilted over into the waves, too far to recover, foundered. The pressure on her planking too much to withstand, she cracked down the middle with a tremendous, almost human, scream of wood and canvas. She was sinking fast. And still the boy sang.

Hercules found himself in the water, fighting against the down draft of the ship as it spiralled into the sea, fighting to stay above the waves. The boy remained locked around his neck as he struggled to keep both their heads above water. Suddenly, Hercules realized they weren't alone in the raging sea. Something was pressing up from below, supporting him, holding him above the water. Flailing about in the waves, he discovered they were surrounded by dolphins. As he gripped onto one firmly with one strong arm, he heard the boy laugh with delight. And then they were being pulled strongly through the churning waves, away from the fury of the storm's centre, borne across the sea by the children of Poseidon.

When the storm finally cleared enough for the crew of the Polaris to see what was occurring, it was all over. The sea around them was empty, except for the floating timbers of the shattered Seawitch, and barrels of booty bobbing in the waves, along with the lifeless bodies of the luckless pirates. Jason's eyes swept the sea, frantically searching for signs of Hercules....but, he was gone.

Jason gripped the railing of the ship, his knuckles white, matching the pallor of his face. They were both gone...his best friends...dead. A groan escaped his lips as he felt the magnitude of their loss. Cletus was there beside him, supporting the Prince with a strong arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, boy," the man murmured with heavy sincerity. He knew the price of loss, the pain of grief. He regretted the suffering the Prince felt now...not only the heartwrenching grief, but the soulrending responsibility the lad felt for their deaths. It had been a royal mission. The young men had died in service to their Prince. The lad would never forget the pain of this lesson, the overwhelming costs of command.

Jason's voice cracked as he whispered. "They shouldn't have been here...shouldn't have died. It's my fault."

Cletus shook his head. "Pirates can happen to anyone, lad. Their unholy behaviour is none of your responsibility....and, your friends volunteered to help. Their choices were their own responsibility, not your's."

Jason shook his head. Staring out across the endless, empty sea, he murmured, "No...they came because I asked...the responsibility is mine."

Cletus remained silent. There was nothing he could say to that. The Prince now understood, and accepted, the harshest lesson of leadership, a lesson which was inevitable for a man who would be King someday. Men died, friends died, when they responded to the demands of royal command. He tightened his grip on the young Prince's shoulder as he, too, stared out toward the endless horizon, toward a sky made glorious with the setting of Helius' chariot. The ship turned, heading into the sunset, heading home.

Night fell, and still the dolphins bore their burdens through the sea. Hercules grimly held on, lost in a stupor of grief and exhaustion. The boy continued to cling to his neck. Herc didn't know where they were being taken, nor did he much care. His thoughts were somewhere else....darting from memory to memory. Iolaus prowling the hills around their homes near Thebes, teaching him how to read sign. Iolaus dozing contentedly as he fished by a quiet stream. Iolaus laughing uproariously when, wrestling, he had managed to trip Hercules, causing him to land face first in a puddle of mud and muck. Iolaus slipping away, out of sight, into the market crowd in Thebes after he had taken to the streets. Iolaus, gazing at him with hope and trepidation, the day Alcmene had brought him to the Academy. Iolaus, facing down Ares, facing down Discord, willing to challenge the power of the gods for Hercules. Iolaus bristling at the haughty messenger, and storming out of the stable, they day they had left the Academy on their respective missions. The glint of gold, as Iolaus flew through the air, falling into the sea. Iolaus. Gone. Dead. Oh gods. Iolaus. Herc's heart twisted with the anguish of his loss.

It could have been hours, or mere moments, when the dolphins slowed their steady progress, gradually coming to a rest, bobbing in the moon silvered sea. The lack of motion brought Hercules back to reality, and he gazed around, vaguely wondering why they had stopped. If he had been anywhere close to normal, he would have reacted with surprise, if not absolute astonishment, when a pretty young girl surfaced just in front of them. The moon burnished her long, fair hair, and glittered in her laughing eyes. When she saw the boy, her face was lit by a wide smile of welcoming joy.

"Nautica!" cried the lad around Herc's neck. Finally, for the first time since the deck had heaved below them, he let loose his grip and swam through the waves to hug the girl. "Nautica! You found us!"

"I never lost you, Arion!" she giggled. "It just took me a while to get back from the island."

"You made it! He's alright!" Arion crowed joyfully...a far different child from the silent, frightened captive of the pirates.

"Yes, I got him to the island...but, he's hurt."

Arion's face clouded. "I know," he murmured, "I watched." The boy's voice caught as he continued, "There wasn't anything I could do...."

Nautica hugged him close. "I know, sweetie...but, you called Father...who sent Cecil and me ahead of the storm. We thought they'd throw you overboard....imagine my surprise to catch a cute mortal instead!"

"Cute?" Somehow, that adjective had never occurred to him.

"Oh yeah," confirmed Nautica, "trust me...one of the cutest I've ever seen! I don't think I'll ever forget him!"

Arion could understand the last statement. "I won't forget him, either. He was the only one who was kind to me....you know, he wouldn't let them sacrifice me...he begged them to use him instead....I never thought anyone would do that....I'm glad you saved him."

Nautica held the little boy close. He was a dear soul who should never have had to go through such a terrible experience. Thank the gods, the young man she had caught under the waves had befriended him, given him something good to remember from the horror of his experience. "Well, as I said, he needs help. Right now, he's probably still lying unconscious on the beach. We need to get this other mortal to him quickly, to build a fire and treat his injuries."

This made Arion remember Hercules, who had been listening to the conversation with a growing sense of wonder...and hope. "I'm sorry," the boy said, "I don't even know your name."

"Hercules, my name is Hercules."

Nautica graced him with another of her amazing smiles...now she knew who this man was, knew he was the son of Zeus. "Hello, Hercules...I'm Nautica, and this is my brother, Arion. As you've heard, we're going to take you to someone who needs your help."

"Please, tell me it was the man thrown to the sea monster...." Herc could hear the aching hope in his own voice. Gods, please, let it be Iolaus.

The two children in front of him laughed gaily when he mentioned the sea monster.

"You mean Cecil," Nautica said.

"Wwwhat?" Herc stammered, afraid to hear another's name.

"Cecil...he's not a sea monster...well, not really...he's my pet," Nautica explained. "In fact, he's right over there," she signalled with a nod of her head. Dazed, Hercules looked back over his shoulder and almost lost his grip on the dolphin when he saw the gaping maw of the sea monster over his left shoulder.

Nautica laughed again when she saw Hercules' unconscious reaction of alarm. "Relax," she said, "he's only smiling at you!"

"Uh, yeah, sure...whatever you say," Herc muttered as he turned back to face Nautica, suppressing a shiver as he considered the creature looming behind him. "But, the man on the beach....his name. Please, tell me it's Iolaus."

Arion gasped. "You know him?"

Herc heaved a huge sigh of relief, unexpected tears filling his eyes as he nodded. "He's my best friend," he whispered past the lump which had grown in his throat. He was alive! IOLAUS WAS ALIVE! Suddenly, he felt lighter, eager to be off. "Let's go," he urged, "I want to see him!"

Nautica nodded as she turned back the way she had come. Swimming strongly through the waves, she led the dolphins to the island which was now not far off. Hercules caught a glimpse of a tale as she glided through the water. She was a mermaid! Nautica, mermaid, sea monster, father, storm...suddenly the pieces fell together in his mind. Poseidon was their father! They were his cousins! His family had saved Iolaus...would wonders never cease?!

Less than an hour later, he could hear waves pounding against a shore ahead of them. His feet finding a grip in the sand beneath him, Hercules released the dolphin which had borne him across the sea, and lunged up out of the water, running toward the shore. In the light of the moon, he could see a crumpled form lying in the sand, just out of reach of the lapping waves. Iolaus.

Falling to his knees beside his unconscious friend, Hercules touched Iolaus' back, surprised at the groan this elicited and the stickiness beneath his fingers. Pulling back, he examined Iolaus as closely as he could in the halflight of the moon's glow. By the gods, his back was a mess! Touching Iolaus' face, he could feel the heat of fever. Leaning close, Hercules could hear the laboured breathing, as if the air was bubbling in Iolaus' lungs. "Easy, Iolaus," he whispered to his friend, "hang on...you'll be okay...just hang on."

Arion stood quietly by his side, watching, listening. "Will he be okay?" the boy asked in a small, frightened voice. Hercules looked at the boy, as he answered, "I hope so. We need to build a fire, get him warm. When it's light, I'll need to find fresh water to wash his back...herbs for the wounds, and the fever. He's very sick...." Looking back down at his friend, Hercules repeated, "Very sick."

"I'll help you gather the wood," the boy offered, then turned to head toward the trees not far from the water's edge.

Hercules stood, then turned to Nautica. "He needs more help than I can give him....can you find the King's ship...bring the others here?"

Nautica gazed from Hercules to the silent form at his feet. She was torn...the rules said she wasn't to be seen by mortals. Iolaus had been unconscious when she caught him, and he had never really came around the whole time she had pulled him to this shore. Hercules she had never met before, but he was different...he was family. She'd heard about him from her father, and from other relatives. She sighed, preparing to deny the request, when Herc whispered, "Please, Nautica...he'll die if you don't."

Nautica looked back up into Hercules' eyes...saw the naked pleading there. "Alright," she agreed, flipping back into the sea. She whistled once, calling the dolphins toward her. "Tell Arion I'll be back!" she called, then waved once before she vanished below the whitecaps that rolled to the shore.

Arion was struggling back along the beach, his arms full of dry sticks and branches. "There's lots more back there...you can get the fire started with these, and I'll get more wood for it!" Dropping the load of kindling, he raced back toward the trees. He was frightened for Iolaus and would do whatever he could to help his friend.

Hercules gathered the wood into a pile, striking a spark with his gauntlets to start the flame. Once it was burning brightly, he followed Arion up the shore, to help gather more wood...they would need a lot of it.

Half an hour later, a huge bonfire was burning on the beach, drying their clothes and warming the still unconscious man beside them. Herc wasn't sure what he could do for Iolaus. The broken, bubbling sound of his friend's breathing frightened him, and he knew he had to do something to relieve it. And, Iolaus was burning up, shivering with fever chills.

Herc took off his still damp shirt and laid it gently on Iolaus' back. Gently, he rolled Iolaus until his friend was supported against his chest, his head on Herc's shoulder. Iolaus groaned, flinching from the pain in his back, but being propped up seemed to help him breathe more easily. Turning to Arion, Herc asked the child for more help.

"Arion, would you take off your shirt and soak it in the water...we need to cool Iolaus down, and we could use your shirt as a sponge."

Without hesitation, the lad pulled the shirt over his head as he ran to the water's edge. Bending, he held the material under the water until it was soaking, then carried it back to Hercules, who first rung it out over his friend's fevered chest, then rolled it up to wipe Iolaus' face and arms. They did this over and over again, throughout the long night, until dawn began to streak the far eastern sky.

Hercules held his friend's hot, trembling body close to his chest, wishing there was more he could do. He'd never felt so helpless. At one point, Iolaus started to cough harshly, gasping for breath. Herc pulled him up higher, mindful of the hurt he was causing Iolaus' back, but needing to help Iolaus lean up and forward. The coughing increased, harsh raspy sounds from deep in his chest, until finally, Iolaus gagged up a mixture of seawater and heavy phlegm. Herc wiped his friend's face, pulling him back to rest against his chest as Iolaus panted for breath.

"Easy, Iolaus," Herc kept chanting, "Easy...you're alright...you're going to be alright. I've got you...easy...."

Iolaus stirred feebly in Herc's arms, his eyelids fluttered. Groaning softly against the pain in his back and chest, Iolaus fought his way back to consciousness. He was sure he'd heard Herc's voice, felt Herc's arms around him.

"Hercules," he whispered hoarsely, his tongue thick in his dry mouth, his lips cracked and bleeding.

Herc tightened his grip. "I'm here, Iolaus...I'm right here....."

Suddenly, Iolaus remembered drowning. Remembered gasping, choking for breath, swallowing seawater, remembered fighting the water. He thrashed weakly, not fully conscious, not aware of being safe. Herc held him, murmuring, "It's alright, Iolaus....you're going to be okay...shhh...."

Iolaus relaxed in Herc's arms. He didn't understand what had happened, wasn't sure how Hercules had found him...didn't know how he could still be alive. But, he knew he was safe. Hercules wouldn't let anything happen to him. Then, he remembered the pirates. "Arion!" he called out to Hercules, jerking into full wakefulness. "You have to help the boy...the pirates...."

Arion placed a hand on Iolaus' arm, drawing his attention. "I'm okay, Iolaus...Hercules saved me from the pirates....they're all dead now."

Iolaus gave the boy a lopsided grin of relief. Everything was okay. He didn't have to fight anymore. Gods, his back and chest hurt. Everything was so...blurry. The world seemed to tilt and swirl around him, making him dizzy, whenever he moved his head. His throat was sore and there was a sharp pain in his ear. "Gods, I'm a mess, Herc," he rasped.

Hercules smiled sadly down at his friend. "Yeah, I can see that...but, you'll be fine. Just rest, Iolaus...just rest."

"Thirsty," Iolaus muttered.

Herc nodded, his eyes scanning the beach. Some distance away, the rays of the early morning sun danced and sparkled along a cut in the sand. "I think there may be a stream not too far away," he said, with some relief. "I'll need to carry you over there...alright?"

"Hurts," mumbled Iolaus, but he nodded.

"I know," responded Hercules, as he carefully gathered Iolaus into his arms, regretting the additional pain he caused, knowing that lifting Iolaus would pull at his raw back. They didn't have much choice. Iolaus needed water, needed it badly.

Arion stood with them, his eyes searching the shore as they walked toward the stream. Iolaus tried hard not to groan from the tearing, burning pain that fired his back, but he couldn't stop the tears caused by the agony that formed in his eyes. Just before they reached the stream, Arion ran to the water's edge, then stooped to pick something up. Then he ran to catch up with Hercules, who was kneeling by the edge of the stream, carefully lowering Iolaus to the ground.

"I found this...not much of a cup, I guess, but it's all I could find...." Arion explained as he held up the curled conch shell in his hand.

Hercules grinned in reassurance. "It's perfect...can you fill it with water?"

Arion nodded, falling to his knees beside the stream. A moment later, he was carefully bearing the waterfilled shell to Hercules, who took it from him.

"Here, Iolaus," he said, holding the tip of the curled shell to Iolaus' lips, he tilted it so that the water could flow into his friend's mouth. Iolaus took it all gratefully. "More," he asked softly. Herc nodded and held the shell out to Arion, who repeated his earlier actions. Once Iolaus had had enough, Arion filled the shell a couple of times for Hercules, then knelt by the stream to drink from it directly to quench his own thirst.

Coming back to Herc's side, Arion could see Iolaus had fallen back to sleep. The boy raised troubled eyes to Hercules...he knew Iolaus was in bad shape. He didn't want his friend to die. Herc caught the look, understood it. Tightening his grip around Iolaus, he didn't know how to relieve the child's anxiety. He was too afraid himself, afraid Iolaus was dying. There was a bluish tinge to Iolaus' lips, and, while the fever had finally broken, now his skin was cold against Herc's chest. Hercules felt a small hand rest upon his shoulder, and he looked back up into Arion's eyes. "Nautica will bring help, Hercules...don't worry...."

Herc forced himself to smile at his little cousin. How did a child get so wise...so strong. Hercules drew what hope he could from the boy's assertion, as his eyes scanned the horizon, seeking the mast of a royal ship...seeking the help they needed.

Nautica had caught up to the Polaris just before dawn, but she knew she would have to wait for more light before she could attract their attention. Even if she could gain someone's notice, they could not follow her in the dark. Swimming alongside the ship, she waited until the sun brought light again to the world.

Finally the dawn came. As the light increased, she could make out a young man in the stern, staring back across the waves, back the way they had come.

"Hey," she called up to him. "Hey you! Mortal! Hey!"

Startled, Jason looked around, seeking the source of the young, female voice which had broken through his sad reverie.

"Down here!" she called, waving to attract his attention.

By the gods! There was a child in the water. "Hold on," he shouted, "we'll save you!"

She laughed, the sound a silver dance in the air. "No! Stop! Just listen to me!"

Jason, mystified by her command, stopped his climb over the rail...but, he almost lost his grip when he spotted her tail! A mermaid? Impossible. He shook his head. He must be hallucinating!

She laughed again, the sound only too real. There would be Tarturus to pay when her father found out what she had been doing, but surprising mortals with her presence was fun! Then, she remembered why she was here...and the urgency of her mission.

"Hercules sent me!" she called up to the mortal. "He needs help...Iolaus is badly hurt."

Hercules? Iolaus? By now, the action in the stern had attracted the attention of others. Cletus joined Jason by the rail, his mouth agape in astonishment when he realized what he was seeing.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Nautica called out, irritated that they weren't responding. Were they idiots, these mortals? "You have to follow me...hurry! Turn the ship around!" The dolphins had caught the urgency in her voice and leapt out of the water around her, creating even more commotion, their actions reflecting the need to respond quickly.

"Captain...she says Hercules sent her...please, we have to follow her!" Jason urged as he gripped Cletus' shoulder. The captain nodded, then turned to call out to the helmsman. "Bring her around into the wind, Tomas! Bring her around!" At the command, the ship began to swing in the water, and sailors rushed to the rigging to haul the sails around to catch the wind.

Jason looked back down at the mermaid. "Where are they? Where are you leading us?"

"An island...to the northwest," she cried back. Then, with a wave, and a flip of her tail, she and the dolphins streamed away ahead of them, leading them to the lost cadets.

Jason slumped in relief against the rail. "They're alive, Cletus," he whispered. "Thanks the gods, they're still alive!"

Cletus smiled happily as he thumped the Prince on the back. It was a miracle...one he'd never thought he'd ever see...but, the Prince was right. Thank the gods, the boys were alive.

Hercules was desperate. At first, Iolaus had mumbled and moaned a bit in his sleep. But, that had ended hours ago. Now, his friend simply lay limp and unresponsive in his arms. Iolaus' breathing had worsened to the point where it would catch, stop...only starting again when Hercules shook him in desperation. Each time, it seemed to take longer before Iolaus started breathing again. The fever was back, burning away whatever life and energy still lingered in his body. He and Arion had resumed the ritual of bathing Iolaus' body, but they weren't having much effect. Iolaus' skin just seemed to get hotter. Herc poured water into Iolaus' mouth, almost a drop at a time, knowing Iolaus needed the fluid to fight the fever.

The sun was high in the sky, burning them relentlessly. Finally, Herc picked Iolaus up to carry him further up the beach, into the shade of the trees. As he leaned back against the trunk of a tree, Hercules kept up his scan of this horizon. If help didn't come soon, it would be too late.

Arion sat quietly beside him, holding one of Iolaus' hands. Every once in a while, Herc would hear a soft whisper, "Come on, Nautica...hurry!" Suddenly, the boy straightened and he turned towards the sea, his voice lifting in a song of hope and urgency. Hercules scanned the horizon anxiously until, finally, he saw the mast rise up out of the sea.

"There they are!" he shouted. "Nautica's brought help!" Arion turned to Hercules and they grinned happily at one another. Then, Arion turned back to the sea, his voice rising on the wind, carrying a message out to his sister that there was still time, but she must hurry...hurry.

"Hang on, Iolaus," Hercules called softly to his friend, "hang on....help is almost here."

An hour later, Jason had leapt from the ship to swim, and then stride through the waves to his friends. Hercules had carried Iolaus back to the shoreline and was walking out to meet Jason, holding Iolaus tightly in his arms.

"Gods, Hercules, I thought I'd lost the both of you!" cried Jason when he reached his friends.

Herc shook his head. "For a while there, I thought you had, too. Jason...Iolaus is in bad shape...we need to get him onto the ship right away."

Jason nodded, concern flooding his eyes as he took in the limp, fevered form of his friend, heard the uneven, laboured breathing. Together, they supported Iolaus through the sea, back toward the ship. Cletus directed the sailors above them to lower a net in which Jason and Hercules secured Iolaus, then grabbed ropes that were lowered down to them, climbing beside the net as sailors hauled it's precious cargo aboard.

As he grabbed the railing, preparing to pull himself over, Hercules remembered Arion. Turning, he scanned the sea until he saw the boy waving. Arion was perched on top of a dolphin, Nautica swimming along beside him, as they watched Iolaus pulled onto the ship.

Hercules held out his hand toward Arion, but the boy shook his head. "I'll be alright, Hercules! Nautica, and my friends," he said, waving at the dolphins in the sea around him, "will take me home!"

Herc waved back, calling against the wind, "Thank you, Arion...Nautica! You saved our lives....thank you!"

He heard the silver laughter on the wind, and the sound of an ethereal voice, raised in a paeon of joy and friendship. They waved back at him once more, before turning to stream away through the sea.

Hercules immediately climbed over the rail onto the deck. The ship's medic was kneeling by Iolaus, conducting a quick examination. Hercules dropped down beside him. "He'll be alright, won't he?" Herc asked, his voice tight.

The medic glanced up at him before turning his attention back to Iolaus. "We'll need to bring the fever down...and he has pneumonia from all the sea water he inhaled. But, the good news is the salt water has cleaned the mess they made of his back...there's no infection there. He has a chance," the medic affirmed. Looking back up at Hercules, seeing the fear there, he repeated, "A good chance, Hercules. Help me get him below. I need to wrap his back, give him something to fight the fever."

Hercules nodded, gathered Iolaus into his arms, then stood to follow the medic below, Jason close behind. Once below, they supported Iolaus on a makeshift table, as the medic treated his back with herbs and wrapped him in clean linen. They they got his sodden pants off him, covered him in a blanket and secured him in a hammock. Meanwhile, the medic made up a herbal potion which he slowly fed to Iolaus while Hercules held his friend's head. The medic dipped two sponges into the bucket at their feet, and handed them to the two cadets, who bathed their friend to bring his fever down.

Finally, the medic ordered them to get into dry clothing before he had to treat them for pneumonia as well. In minutes, they were back, taking turns feeding Iolaus with the potion, giving him water and bathing his hot, fevered skin. They didn't stop until the fever broke somewhere in the middle of the night. Exhausted, they slumped down against the side of the ship. The medic urged them to get some sleep, but they refused to leave Iolaus until he woke up.

Despite their best intentions, both young men fell into the heavy sleep of exhaustion, only to be awaken just before dawn by the sound of a painful wretching. Instantly awake, they leapt to Iolaus' side, Herc pulling their friend up. Iolaus was groaning, holding his belly, twisting in the hammock, gagging. "Make it stop, Herc," he begged, miserably.

"What, Iolaus? What's wrong?" cried Hercules, while Jason ran for the medic.

"The spinning...the world keeps spinning....so dizzy...." Iolaus gasped, as he wretched again, trying to empty a stomach which had nothing in it. "Ohhhh," he moaned, "sick....so sick...."

Hercules pulled Iolaus out of the hammock to hold his friend propped in his arms as he sat with his back against the ship's timbers, hoping that by helping Iolaus sit up, he might help alleviate the discomfort. Iolaus curled against him, miserable with this new agony. Hercules looked up with anxious eyes at the medic who had arrived at his side. The man knelt beside Hercules to examine his patient, took in the greenish colour of Iolaus' skin.

"There's no fever," he murmured, as he studied the moaning cadet. Looking back up at Hercules, then at Jason, he said, "It looks like seasickness."

"What?" both young men exclaimed. "But, Iolaus has never suffered from seasickness... never," Hercules protested. It had to be something else.

The medic shook his head. "The fever...it may have caused some damage...."

"What kind of damage," demanded a very worried Prince.

Again, the medic shook his head slightly. "We don't really understand why, but sometimes, with a fever or earache, people suffer from vertigo...and, after that, they seem to suffer more frequently from seasickness...as if they can't get their sense of balance when the ship is rolling against the waves."

The boys stared at him, then gazed with pity down at their strickened friend, who moaned and wretched again.

"Will he get better?" Hercules asked softly.

"I don't know," responded the medic.... "maybe, with time....."

The ship reached the harbour at Corinth in the middle of the next afternoon. Hercules carried a very pale, miserable Iolaus onto the dock, then laid him in the back of a wagon the Captain had requisitioned to take Iolaus back to the Academy.

Iolaus was conscious, but wished he wasn't. He didn't know what made him feel worse. The burning of his back, which was beginning to itch as well, as the skin healed. The piercing ache in his chest every time he coughed...which seemed to be constantly. And the sickness which had plagued him throughout the rest of the voyage was reluctant to release his body. Even now that he was on land, the world continued to spin crazily around him. He felt completely pathetic....and he hated it. Dimly, he was aware that Hercules had climbed into the wagon with him, and was again supporting Iolaus against his chest, while Jason climbed up in the front, to drive the team to the Academy.

Cletus stood by the side of the wagon. "It was a hard voyage, Jason...harder than most. But, thank you lad, for bringing us the help of the cadets. We caught the pirates, and that lot, at least, won't be bothering anyone again." Glancing into the back of the wagon, he continued, "Your friends are alright...and, that's more than either of us had dared hope...."

Jason smiled down at his old friend, grateful for this thanks, and for his understanding. "I'll see you again soon, Cletus," Jason said, as he slapped the reins, signalling the horses it was time to leave. Cletus nodded and watched as the wagon rolled off the dock and out of sight.

A week later, Iolaus was finally able to leave his bunk. Weak from his bout of pneumonia, he slowly, cautiously, made his way out of the barracks into the courtyard of the Academy. Gods, he hated this fragile feeling...as if he would break, if he wasn't careful. He sighed. At least the world had stopped spinning, the vertigo was gone. He made his way to the steps of the administrative building and gratefully sat down, trembling from the small effort of his short journey.

Hercules found him there, basking in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. Dropping down beside his friend, Herc put a hand on Iolaus' shoulder. "How are you doing?"

Iolaus gave him a wan smile, "Better...at least I could make it out into the fresh air!"

Herc grinned at him, relieved beyond words that his friend was recovering. Leaning his elbows back against the step behind him, Herc stretched out while he continued to gaze at his friend.

"What?" enquired Iolaus, unnerved by the silent stare.

"Nothing," responded Hercules, "I was just thinking that it all started here almost exactly two weeks ago. Seems a lot longer, doesn't it?"

Iolaus grinned wryly, "Yeah, it does."

Remembering brought a regretful look to Herc's face as he straightened to sit up again next to Iolaus. "I never said I was sorry...."

Iolaus looked at him, confusion on his face, "Sorry? For what?"

Herc sighed softly. "For the fight."

"What fight?"

"The fight we had about the King's messenger...and his horse."

Iolaus stared at his friend for a long minute, trying to remember what he was talking about. "By the gods, Hercules...you haven't been worrying about that!"

Herc shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Well, it's just when I thought you were...gone...I couldn't stop remembering that the last time we'd talked, we were fighting...."

Iolaus snorted, then started to laugh.

Offended, Hercules turned to him, "What? You think it's funny that I felt bad?"

Waving a hand to gain time until he could speak around his laughter, Iolaus finally caught his breath. "Hercules...you worry about the damnedest things! Besides, that wasn't even a fight!"

"If it wasn't a fight, then what was it?" demanded Hercules, still miffed at being laughed at.

Iolaus grinned at his hapless friend. "Herc, that was just me being unreasonable...as usual, I might add!" He chuckled again at the expression on Herc's face. "What? You don't think I know when I'm being unreasonable? I'm not an idiot, Hercules!"

Herc cuffed Iolaus playfully on the shoulder. "No...you're never an idiot...but, you know, Iolaus, sometimes you can be a real jerk!"

Iolaus convulsed in giggles. "You noticed!" he gasped in merriment. Hercules couldn't resist laughing himself until the two of them were doubled over in mirth.

Chiron watched them from the shadows inside the stable. Smiling quietly to himself, he turned away. All of the cadets had survived their adventure....as he heard the riotous laughing from across the square, he reflected that everything was back to normal.

Disclaimer: No innocent seamen actually lost their lives in the telling of this story....but, several evil pirates can do no more than haunt the empty, rolling sea. In the years ahead, Nautica would win the heart of a man with golden curls...and, Arion, son of Poseidon and the nymph, Oneaea, would grow up to have more adventures with dolphins...but, that's another myth....

Finis

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