The Laurel Crown

The day had become increasingly overcast as they walked along the shore back towards Pireaus, and the isthmus beyond, that would take them back towards Corinth. It was a cool spring day, the wind brisk off the sea. Gulls dipped and clamored at one another; the waves broke hard against the rocks along the shore, flinging up white foam and spray. They had been taking their time, ambling along the beach. Hercules had noticed that Iolaus did not have his usual bounce and he was far too quiet. They had just passed the shrine to Hermes...Iolaus had taken great care to not even look at it. He would keep his bargain with Hermes...but, he didn’t want to think about it. He just hoped it would be a long time before Hermes called in the marker.

Iolaus was only this quiet when something was bothering him, and Hercules could not begin to imagine which of many possibilities could be weighing on his buddy’s mind. The bargain with Hermes? Poseidon, usually friendly, was not happy with them for having aligned with Athena in recovering the Pearl of Wisdom from Poseidon’s possession. Apollo was likely none too pleased about losing Circe’s lyre. Ares and Hades had already been seriously upset by Iolaus’ success in bringing the Rainbow Crystal to Olympus. About the only major god they had not offended in one way or another in the last couple of months was Zeus himself...if you didn’t count the fact that Hercules had killed him not long before. Ah well, at least their favourite goddesses were still friendly. Hercules watched Iolaus as they wandered along the shore, disturbed by his friend’s lack of energy.

“Iolaus?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you alright?”

Iolaus half rolled, half shrugged his shoulders as he trudged along. “Yeah, sure...fine. I’m just a little tired.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Well, it’s just that you’re...well, you’re a lot more quiet than usual. You haven’t said a word in miles.”

“I said I’m fine.” Herc heard the edge in Iolaus’ voice...not fine.

“Because, if you’re worried about, oh I don’t know, having most of the gods irritated with us...well, that’s nothing really new.”

“I’m not worried.” Iolaus had not turned to face Hercules through any of this discourse, which, in itself, was unusual...Iolaus normally spent more time walking backwards and sideways than he did walking straight ahead. And, he rarely trudged...bounced, skipped, strode, strutted, ambled, danced...but not trudged. Not unless he was ill, hurt or upset.

“So, if you’re not worried about the gods, what are you upset about?”

“I’m not upset about anything!” There was a definite tone of impatience edging into his voice. Herc knew if he irritated Iolaus enough, his friend would turn and shout and finally let him know what was bothering him. Iolaus always said that Herc was the quiet one, the one who never said what he was feeling. But Herc was a magpie compared to the silence Iolaus could maintain when he was really worried or hurt. It was as if he had a vault somewhere deep inside into which he pushed all the pain, all the sorrow, slammed and bolted the door, and then pretended everything was fine. The only way to get anything out of him, usually, was to get to him while he was still pushing stuff inside, before the door was closed and locked.

“Well, something’s bothering you.” Herc used his most reasonable, implacable voice because he knew it really drove Iolaus crazy.

“Look,” Iolaus said, as he turned to face Hercules, exasperation showing in every line of his body and in the cut of his voice, “I said I’m fine, not worried, I’m not upset, nothing’s bothering me, okay?”

Herc gave a half smile...at least he had gotten Iolaus to stop and look at him...well, at least turn to face him...Iolaus wasn’t exactly making eye contact. He pretended he was, but his eyes were not connecting...he was looking past Herc’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I know what you said...but, I don’t believe you. Iolaus, I know something’s on your mind...something is bothering you...why won’t you tell me what it is?”

Iolaus stayed rigid for a long moment more, then his whole body seemed to slump as he bowed his head, looked toward the ground, then turned to continue walking. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, “it’s just...I’m just...” his voice cracked, before he caught it, then, in a steadier tone, he finished, “Let it go.”

Herc put a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, tugging him back around to face him. Iolaus resisted, remained turned away. Shaking his head, Hercules kept his hand on Iolaus’ shoulder but moved so that he was standing in front of his friend, looking down on the bowed head of unruly blond curls.

“Iolaus,” Herc insisted gently, “you know I’m not going to let this go...you might as well tell me what’s bothering you or I’ll just drive you crazy all the way back to Corinth.”

Iolaus snorted at this...then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Keeping his head down, both hands on his hips, he mumbled, “I couldn’t hold onto you....”

“What?” Herc frowned, not understanding.

“In the cavern, I...I couldn’t hold onto you...I wasn’t strong enough....I couldn’t pull you up....”

“Iolaus! That wasn’t your fault...the place was falling apart...my hand was bleeding and kept slipping...and, you didn’t let me fall....I let go of your hand, remember?”

Iolaus stood stiffly for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I remember,” he mumbled, “and I don’t...”

“Don’t what?”

“Forgive you!” Iolaus looked up at Hercules, his eyes blazing. “How could you do that? Let that be the last thing I’d ever remember of you...the look in your eyes when you let go? Why couldn’t you trust me to hold onto you...to be able to pull you up?”

Herc’s head snapped back a bit at the fury in Iolaus’ voice...underneath the fury, he heard the pain. Putting both hands on Iolaus’ shoulders, he spoke softly but clearly. “You couldn’t see it...the ledge you were on was cracking...we would have both fallen in a less than a minute more...and maybe Jason, too. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you to be able to hold me...it was just that I knew we were out of time...and I wasn’t about to take you down with me. I’m sorry, Iolaus...I...there wasn’t any other choice.”

Iolaus stared hard into Herc’s eyes for a moment, but then looked away and blinked hard before he replied. “No...I’m sorry, Herc...I’m not mad at you...I know you did what you did to save our lives. I...I’m furious with myself. I let you down.” Iolaus’ voice cracked and he had to bite his lip to stop it from trembling.

Herc’s expression was puzzled and concerned. “What are you talking about? You have never let me down.”

Iolaus wouldn’t look at him. Staring out at the surf, he spoke quietly, “I should have gone down there after you. I...I gave up too soon.” Finally, Iolaus looked back up at his closest friend. “Herc, you could have died...you almost did die...because I failed to go after you....”

Hercules knew Iolaus...and he could imagine what had happened yesterday after he fell. “Yeah, I’m sure you just stood at the tunnel entrance, dusted off your hands, said, ‘well, that’s it, he’s gone...guess we better be on our way’.”

Iolaus shrugged, shook his head, “Well, no....”

Herc gave Iolaus a gentle shake. “I bet you tried to climb down and Jason wouldn’t let you...I’d even be willing to bet you fought to come after me.” Hercules saw the slight flush rise on Iolaus’ face. Bingo. “Jason was right not to let you follow. I was locked in the shell and it was already submerged in water over your head. It was a maelstrom in there and you could never have gotten the shell open. Poseidon showed up almost immediately. If you had been there, you wouldn’t have been able to help me and you would only have gotten yourself killed.” Hercules paused for a moment, studying his friend, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Iolaus...you didn’t let me fall...you didn’t let me down. Iolaus, you just saved my life...you have nothing to blame yourself for...do you understand me?”

Iolaus nodded, bit his lip...but he couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered. Hercules felt the body under his hands tremble, and he pulled Iolaus into a tight hug. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, the grief he had felt, the fear that he would not be able to save Hercules, the terror when he had seen Herc encased in pearl, the relief at having his friend back...it was all mixed up and the pain was all too fresh; Iolaus wept silently...the only evidence of his distress the shaking of his shoulders and the tears Hercules felt on his chest.

“It’s alright, Iolaus...everything’s alright,” Hercules soothed quietly. After a few minutes, Iolaus pulled back out of his arms, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffed. Herc found himself smiling down at his distraught friend.

Iolaus caught the grin, “What, you think this is funny?” he challenged, glad to be indignant rather than embarrassed for having cried.

“No,” Herc chuckled, “I’m sorry...it’s just that, now, you really might understand why I don’t want you taking so many risks...now, you know how I’ve felt everytime you’ve... well...maybe, now, you’ll be a little more careful...for my sake, if not for your own!”

“Alright already,” Iolaus couldn’t help but chuckle in return, the tension leaving his body, “I get it!”

Herc laughed, couldn’t resist ruffling Iolaus’ hair, unsurprised when his friend ducked away, pushing his hand back. “Yeah, well, I hope so...it’s about time!”

In better spirits, the friends turned and continued their journey along the water’s edge.

“I guess we had better head straight back to the Academy...Jason and Lilith will be anxious to see that you’re alright,” Iolaus suggested as they walked along.

“Yeah, and I want to make sure Jason’s alright...I know you said that Athena had agreed to take care of him...but, her idea of taking care of someone, and our’s, might be somewhat different,” Hercules replied.

Iolaus nodded, but didn’t reply. The burns hadn’t been life threatening, so he was sure Jason was alright. After a while, Hercules was pleased to hear Iolaus whistling tunelessly under his breath, his shoulders back and his step light as they ambled along the shore. Everything was alright.

They had passed Pireaus, and had reached the fork in the road that would either take them south to Corinth, across the isthmus, or north to Thebes. They had just turned south, when they were overtaken by a young peasant, breathless, his clothing in disarray. The young man looked like he had been running for hours. “Hercules!” the young man called, “wait!”

Surprised, Hercules and Iolaus turned, caught sight of the youth running toward them and took a few steps back to meet him. When the young man reached them, he was so out of breath he couldn’t speak, and he had to lean forward, his hand against the painful stitch in his side. “Easy,” Hercules reassured him, “take your time.”

The young man nodded, fighting to get his breathing under control. Iolaus put a hand on the fellow’s shoulder, “Your name’s Teleron, right...you’re from Thebes.” When the young man nodded, Iolaus and Hercules exchanged a worried look...what was happening back home that someone had nearly killed himself trying to get to them.

Finally, Teleron straightened, able again to speak. “I’m sorry...I’ve been running since I left Thebes...I was afraid I’d have to go all the way to Corinth....”

Herc nodded encouragingly, “Why? What’s happening in Thebes?”

“A monster!” Teleron blurted out, “A monster is killing everyone who approaches the city!” Teleron’s face twisted in disgust, “And, then, she eats them.”

“She?” Iolaus echoed, shooting a look at Hercules, “What kind of monster? What does ‘she’ look like?”

“It’s a woman’s head and,” Teleron blushed as he waved his hands in the general area of his chest, “and then the rest of her is all lion.”

Iolaus looked at Hercules, “Sound familiar to you?”

“Nope...I’ve never encountered something like that before....”

Teleron continued, “She says she’s a Sphinx!”

“A Sphinx?” both warriors repeated in unison. Herc cocked an eyebrow at Iolaus who just shrugged in return. They’d seen the huge Sphinx pyramid in Egypt, but had never thought the thing represented something that could actually be alive. “So,” continued Iolaus, “she kills everyone who comes into reach?”

“Well, not exactly...she poses some kind of riddle and says she’ll let anyone who can answer it pass by...and she lets those who decide to postpone visiting Thebes to turn around and go away...it’s like she’s just trying to cut off Thebes...no one can go in or out!” Teleron spoke rapidly, almost stumbling over his words.

“How did you get out?” Hercules asked.

“I climbed over the hills in the opposite direction, then circled around far from the road.”

Herc and Iolaus nodded...when hunting, they had followed similar trails. Hercules looked down at Iolaus, “What do you think?” he asked.

One hand on his hip, Iolaus rubbed the other across the lower half of his face, pulled on his chin. “Well, I think you could continue on to see Jason...I can go check out this Sphinx....”

Hercules rubbed the back of his neck, the last time he and Iolaus had split up, only a week ago now, Iolaus had almost gotten himself killed...again. “I don’t know....maybe we should both go check ‘her’ out....”

Iolaus looked up at Hercules and grinned, “Would it help if I promised not to try to kill her all by myself?”

Hercules gave him a speculative look, “I don’t know if I can trust you....”

Iolaus burst out laughing. “Don’t worry...I’ll check her out...maybe I can even figure out the riddle...but I won’t try to get past her. I know you want to see Jason....Look, you can get there by this evening...and, then, if you hurry, you can meet me by tomorrow evening. I’ll camp on this side of the pass...if, in my brilliance, I do manage to defeat her with brains rather than brawn, I’ll wait for you at your mother’s old place. Okay?”

Herc studied Iolaus for a minute. “You promise?”

Iolaus grinned as he put one hand over his heart, “I solemnly promise not to try to kill any monsters on my own!”

Hercules grinned, slapped Iolaus on the shoulder and turned back to Teleron. “Okay, Iolaus will go back with you and I’ll be there by tomorrow night. So long as you keep anyone else from trying to go through the pass, no one else will get hurt.”

Teleron was relieved. Having grown up in Thebes, he knew that Iolaus was a more than competant warrior in his own right and could handle the monster on his own. And, if there was a problem, Hercules wouldn’t be far behind. “That’s great!” he replied.

The friends parted in good spirits...Hercules jogging south and Iolaus heading northwest with Teleron.

Herc arrived at the Academy by midafternoon. He had wasted no time, having jogged all the way. As he entered the gates, he spotted Lilith walking from the administration building, which housed all the classrooms, to the exercise hall.

“Lilith!” he called out to her as he loped over to her side.

Turning at the call, her face broke into a wide smile when she saw him. “Hercules! You’re alright!!! Thank the gods!” she exclaimed, as she hugged him tight. “We’ve been so worried...wondering if Iolaus had succeeded....” She sniffed a bit, tearful in her relief at seeing her old friend again, alive and well. Jason had been sick with fear for him ever since Athena had brought him home.

Hercules hugged her tight. “I’m just fine! But, how’s Jason...Iolaus told me he was hurt by Poseidon’s blast.”

Lilith pulled back, “He’s fine...come...he’s in the office...he’ll be so glad to see you!” Turning, Lilith pulled Herc by the arm toward the large building in front of them. “Where’s Iolaus?” she asked.

“He’s headed to Thebes...there’s a bit of a problem there. I’m supposed to catch up with him tomorrow night.”

“Problem?” she asked as they mounted the steps into the building.

“I’ll explain inside,” Herc replied. By then, they were entering the building and heading down the long hall to Jason’s office.

When they walked in, Jason was pouring over a scroll, only looking up once they were in the room. The delight he felt in seeing Hercules standing in front of him was written on his face. “Hercules!” he shouted, bounding to his feet to move around the desk, “I was afraid I might never see you again!” Jason wrapped his old friend in a strong hug, pounding him on the back in a joyous welcome as he stepped away. “Thank you for coming straight here to let us know you’re alright!”

Hercules grinned at Jason, warmed by the heartfelt welcome. “Well, I was worried about you, too...Iolaus told me about the burns. But, you look good as new...maybe better!”

Jason laughed while Lilith rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t in such great shape when Athena dumped him off here...that’s one cold goddess!”

“Now, Lilith....” Jason expostulated.

“Don’t, ‘now, Lilith’ me! Those were bad burns! Scared me....”

Jason, a chagrined look on his face, just nodded, then turned back to Hercules. “Well, I guess the burns were bad...but, the strangest thing, I woke up this morning, about an hour after dawn, and they were all healed...even some old scars had disappeared.”

Hercules, a thoughtful look on his face, laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder, “I’m glad, Jason, glad you’re alright. Maybe Athena decided that you deserved some thanks for having helped retrieve her Pearl.”

Jason nodded, “Yes, maybe...I had thought it must have been her.” But, Lilith just snorted, “Not likely...I don’t think that goddess knows what gratitude means. She just seems to expect unquestioned obedience as her due.”

The men looked at Lilith...she was right. “But, who else would have intervened? It certainly wouldn’t have been Poseidon...” Jason mused.

Lilith gave him a wry look, “I’d be less surprised at Poseidon regretting the toasting of his best and most loyal sea captain than I would be to learn Athena thought of saying ‘thank you’ all on her own!”

Jason smiled, “Well, we may never know...and it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“No,” laughed Hercules, “what matters is that your injuries were healed!”

Lilith made a face and then remembered what Herc had said about Thebes when he had arrived. “Hercules, you were going to explain what problem Iolaus is off solving in Thebes.”

Jason frowned, “Problem?”

Hercules nodded, a frown between his brows. “Yes, it seems there is a new monster, a Sphinx, stopping people from entering or leaving Thebes. Iolaus has gone to check it out...he promised not to take it on by himself!”

“And you believed him?” Jason asked, an incredulous tone in his voice.

“Yeah,” Hercules gave a wry grin, “but not without reservations. I’m supposed to meet him there tomorrow night...but, now that I know you’re okay...and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start back now. That way, I could meet up with him before morning.”

Jason smiled warmly, “Of course, we don’t mind! Iolaus always means well...but, he has a terrible knack for getting himself into trouble! Let us know how it all turns out!”

Herc laughed, “Oh, you can count on that...if we don’t come personally, to finish the last visit we barely started before Athena dragged us away, we’ll send a message.”

Lilith put a hand on his arm, “The two of you are always welcome here, you know that Hercules.”

He covered her hand with his own as he gave her a warm smile, “I do know that, Lilith...and so does Iolaus. Thank you.” Then, giving them both a grin, “Well, I’ll be off...stay out of trouble!”

Lilith snickered, “That’s like the pot telling the kettle to stay out of the fire!” They all laughed as they walked Hercules out of the building and watched him head back toward Thebes.

Iolaus and Teleron had made good time back to Thebes. They had walked, rather than jog, in deference to the fact that Teleron had run about as much as he wanted to that day. Nevertheless, they were high in the mountains by late afternoon. As they came into the pass of Mount Phicium, there could be no doubt they were in the right place...the stench was horrible. Iolaus covered his nose with his hand, but Teleron could not help but gag.

“By the gods,” Iolaus whispered, his voice thick with pity, “those poor souls....” They had reached a point where they could see the source of the overpowering smell of death. Broken, partially devoured bodies were strewn at the base of a high, rugged slab of rock which jutted into the pass, commanding the narrow passage into Thebes. An ominous snarl from above dragged his eyes away from the victims, to regard the monster perched at the top of rockface.

“Now, that’s ugly,” he muttered. “I thought you said the body was all lion,” he murmured to Teleron, as he took in the serpant’s tail and the eagle’s wings. This beast was something out of someone’s worst nightmare.

“I...I never actually saw it before,” stammered Teleron, caught between awe and terror.

“Uh huh,” Iolaus muttered as he positioned himself between Teleron and the monster, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Hey you, Big Ugly, do you talk?”

The monster had a face of a woman...and, to be fair, the face was not all that ugly, if one discounted the ratty hair, the leather-like skin burned dry by the Ethiopan sun under which it had lived for many years, and the blood stained lips...which were now curled in contempt at the pitiful show of arrogance by the mortal below. “Yes, I talk...when I choose,” she replied, her voice deep and rasping.

Iolaus didn’t bother to hide his disgust of the creature. “Good...then maybe you could tell me why you’re here...why you’ve killed these poor innocents.”

She snorted. “Hera is angry with the citizens of Thebes...they have failed to worship her properly, so she has sent me to remind them of her power.”

“Hera,” Iolaus muttered, under his breath, “figures.” More loudly, he called up to the beast. “So, how long were you planning on staying?”

“Until someone solves the riddle I have posed by correctly answering my question...could be days, could be years....could be today, if you are interested in trying your luck,” she replied, bored.

“What is this, the sixty four thousand dinar question of the week? How hard can it be?” Iolaus challenged her.

“The riddle is sufficiently difficult that these ‘innocents,’ as you called them, were unable to respond correctly,” she crooned and batted her eyelashes, a horrible parody of coquettishness. “Now, did you wish to try it yourself? In all fairness, I must caution you...the price of an incorrect answer is death...you will join these others below me. Your other option is to leave now and go in peace.”

Iolaus paused...he’d promised Herc he’d wait. Well, actually, he’d promised not to try to kill it on his own...he had said that if he answered the riddle correctly, he’d meet Herc at Alcmene’s old home. Of course, they hadn’t realized at the time that the failure to answer correctly was, in itself, a death sentence...it wasn’t just a matter of trying to force a way through the pass into Thebes. Maybe he should wait until Hercules arrived...that way, if they gave the wrong answer, there would be two of them to do battle with this monster. Decisions, decisions...honour the wording of his promise...or the spirit of it?

“Well, mortal? Not so cocky now, are you?” she taunted him.

Iolaus didn’t admit to many flaws. What others called impetuousness, he considered being a man of action. What others considered stubborn, he considered being resolute. But, he did admit, even to himself, that he could not resist a dare...and, that, sometimes, this trait got him into trouble. Ah well, if he got the answer right, it wouldn’t be a problem...if he got it wrong and got killed, well, Herc wouldn’t be pleased...but, if he killed the Sphinx, Iolaus was pretty sure he could explain his reasoning to Herc. So, he’d honour the specific wording of their agreement.

Keeping his eyes on the beast, he half turned his head, addressing himself to the young man behind him. “Teleron, I want you to go back through the pass and wait for me...if I don’t come for you, wait for Hercules.”

“Iolaus, I...” Teleron didn’t want to leave Iolaus on his own...more specifically, he thought they should both go back through the pass and wait for Hercules.

“Teleron! Just go...I’ll be alright...go!” directed Iolaus. Reluctantly, Teleron backed away, then turned to head around a curve in the road...just out of sight, but not so far that he could not hear what was happening. Iolaus heard him leave...and smiled a little to himself when he heard the footsteps stop not all that far away. The kid had courage, he’d give him that.

A sneer on her lips, the beast called out, “So, you have decided to try your luck, have you?”

“Sure...why not? You don’t look all that bright...these poor people probably came up with answers that were too imaginative to appeal to you...now me...I’m a pretty basic guy, so I shouldn’t have any trouble finding the simple answer you’d need to get,” replied Iolaus in a deliberately insulting tone. He noted the angry flush on her face...good, anger made living things careless... man and beast, alike. “So, what’s the question, sweetheart?”

She hissed at him. Insolent worm. She looked forward to wringing his neck and tearing the heart from his body. “Listen well, mortal...I will not repeat the riddle. 'What being, with only one voice, has sometimes two feet, sometimes three, sometimes four, and is weakest when it has the most?'” she rasped, anticipation and hunger glittering in her eyes.

Iolaus stared at her while he thought. “Well?” she enquired. “Where’s your ‘simple’ answer, little man?”

Iolaus frowned...he never did like personal shots about his height. “What? Is this a time limited contest?” he quipped back, distracted by her ‘little man’ comment. Her serpant’s tale twitched as she unfolded her eagle’s wings, readying herself to spring down upon him. ‘Little man, indeed!’ he thought...then smiled, ‘little man....”

Looking up at her, he grinned triumphantly. “Man,” he said, in ringing tones, “who crawls on all fours as a baby, walks upright when strong, and leans upon a staff in old age...man, who speaks with one voice and is weakest when a child!”

He could see the shock on her face, the strangled shriek of fury in her throat. “Gotcha!” he crowed. “Now, get out of here!” he shouted up at her, refusing to be terrorized by her frightful appearance and her very evident fury.

A howl broke from her lips...the howl of a tortured soul, trapped in the depths of Tartarus...and, in that instant, Iolaus pitied her. He had no doubt that this was another of Echidna and Typhon’s children, tortured and made monstrous by Hera. The creature really had not started out evil...she was as much a victim as were those she had murdered.

The creature saw the pity in his eyes. No one had ever pitied her before...no one had seen beyond the horror of her being to the tortured slave of Hera inside. No one else had ever seen her as more than the monster she appeared to be...she had even pushed away her own revulsion for what Hera compelled her to do, coming to see herself as simply a monster. But the pity reawakened her own spirit, her own disgust and despair at what she had become. It was too much...she couldn’t bear it.

The Sphinx leapt from the ledge high above his head, and he ducked instinctively...but, she hadn’t jumped at him. She had thrown herself deliberately onto the jagged rocks that jutted up from the base of the cliff, not ten feet from where he stood. Her wings folded back, she felt like a stone, breaking herself upon the boulders below. Stunned, Iolaus watched her fall...watched her land, twisted and broken. She turned her head toward him, murmured, a new gentleness in her eyes, “You’ve won...thank you.” Then, those eyes darkened and her spirit fled, finally free.

Iolaus took a deep breath, then moved to stand beside her, gently closing the lids over the sightless eyes. “Damn you, Hera,” he whispered. “Damn you....”

Teleron found him there, standing beside the Sphinx. “Are you alright?” the boy asked tentatively.

Iolaus turned and gave the young man a reassuring smile. “I’m fine,” he said, then continued, “Teleron, run ahead into Thebes and bring some men back to make a pyre for the dead...and, ask them to burn this creature as well...ask them not to mutilate her.” Looking back down at the Sphinx, he murmured softly, “She’s been tortured enough in her life....”

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Teleron asked, puzzled by Iolaus’ words.

Iolaus looked back at the youth, “No, I’m going to head straight for Alcmene’s old house...I told Herc I’d meet him there.”

Teleron nodded, remembering the conversation earlier that day. As Iolaus turned to walk away, Teleron called him back, “Iolaus!” and, when the hero turned, Teleron said, “Thank you....” The words were scarcely enough, but Iolaus seemed satisfied. He smiled gently at the young man, nodded in acceptance, then turned and headed down the mountain path.

It took less than an hour for Iolaus to get to Alcmene’s old home. All the way, he wondered how he would tell Echidna and Typhon that he was responsible for the death of yet another of their children. They never blamed him...or Herc...for what they sometimes had to do...but, their pain at what had become of their children could not be hidden. He shook off his sombre mood as he approached the house...there was nothing else he could have done...the creature had been killing indiscriminately, had been beyond help. Death was a mercy.

The sun was almost down by the time Iolaus came to the old homestead...the house, and the garden Alcmene had loved so dearly, were tranquil in the soft twilight glow. Iolaus rested a moment, enjoying the peace of this place, admiring the garden which villagers took care to maintain. It was here, in the garden, when he could still feel Alcmene’s presence most powerfully, as if she was close by, as if she would appear at any moment.

Memories of moments in this garden flickered through his mind...Alcmene as a young woman, being hunted by Callisto, Alcmene as a worried mother, anxiously waiting for Hercules to return from his first war, Alcmene as a mature woman, taking joy in the beauty she created here... Alcmene, finding peace in this garden just before she died.

Iolaus gently brushed his hand along the top of the marker Hercules had carved for her.... “Your garden is still lovely, Alcmene...but, I always thought you were the most beautiful blossom of all.” Iolaus smiled as he imagined he could hear her chuckle warmly, imagined how she would answer him, “Oh, Iolaus, always with the silver tongue...flattery will get you everywhere....” and she would take him to the house, make him his favourite meal. Blinking back his tears, he whispered to the wind, “I miss you, Alcmene....I miss you so much....” And, he could have sworn he heard a soft whisper in response, “I miss you, too, son of my heart....be careful...be safe....”

Iolaus shook his head, chagrined at his own wistful imaginings. It was just the soft murmur of leaves rustling gently in the wind that he heard, not the voice of a soul safe in Elysium...much as he might wish to hear that voice again, he couldn’t really believe that Alcmene was reaching out to him tonight. Gods, he was tired...how long had it been since he had really slept? He’d lost track of the days.

Weary, he left the garden, heading to the house. Was it only a week ago that he, Herc and Iphicles had consumed that very excellent amphora of wine, here, in the house of their childhood? Iolaus chuckled at his sense of propriety, as if he had actually lived here, too. Well, maybe he hadn’t lived here, but it had always been his sanctuary...and he’d spent as much time, or maybe even more time, here than he had spent in his parents’ home.

Iolaus was almost at the door when he heard, and felt, a whoosh of air behind him. He was swinging around, instantly alert, when he heard the voice call out, “Yo! Hero! Where’s the tall guy?”

Iolaus looked up, surprised...and not a little unnerved...to see Apollo floating above him on his custom made ‘board. Backing up, his hands in the air, Iolaus started in a placating voice, “Uh, Apollo, if this is about the lyre....”

“Lyre, schmyre...I can get it back anytime...however presumptuous you may have been to give it back to Circe, I’m not here about that,” Apollo drawled, adding in a soft undertone Iolaus could not hear, “or, at least, not specifically about that...as if Zeus would let me get away with making you pay for taking something to save his precious little half mortal son....”

Relieved, Iolaus relaxed, lowered his hands. That was easy. “Okay...then why are you here?”

“Something’s going on at Delphi...the Pythia tells me a bunch of mercenaries have moved into town, are drinking like Bacchii and generally trashing the place. I don’t know if they’re just rowdy tourists, or if trouble is brewing.”

“And, so....” Iolaus prompted...he was supposed to care what was going on at Delphi because....

“And, so, I want you and Hercules to check it out...and, if necessary, send them on their way.”

“O-kay...and we would do this because.....” Apollo hardly needed them to chase off a few mercenaries.

“Because you owe me,” Apollo stated, continuing when Iolaus looked puzzled, “for the lyre....”

“But, you just said that didn’t matter....”

“It doesn’t...in that I’m not seeking revenge....but, you did steal it, so a little retribution is in order....or don’t you agree?” Apollo’s tone had been relatively friendly, until a trace of steel entered his voice on the last words.

‘Gods,’ Iolaus thought as he cleared his throat and pulled his shoulders back in response to the twitch he suddenly felt in the middle of his back. “Uh, yeah...sure...of course... fine.”

“So, where is my dear half-brother?”

Iolaus sighed, “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Apollo frowned...he hated waiting...but, then, most gods hated to wait for anything. Patience was not a virtue they espoused. “Well, I guess you better go on ahead and scout out the situation...that way, when he catches up to you, the two of you won’t have to waste any time figuring out what’s going on.”

“But...” Iolaus began, only to be cut off.

“But, what?” Apollo asked abruptly, displeasure echoing in his voice.

“Nothing,” sighed Iolaus, ‘nothing, except I’m exhausted, would like to sleep for about a week...but, nothing you’d care about,’ he thought.

“Good...check in with the Pythia so that I’ll know you’ve arrived.” Apollo, satisfied that all was as he wanted it, whooshed away on his board.

“Fine,” muttered Iolaus. So much for a good night’s sleep. Oh well, maybe the Pythia, Apollo’s priestess and oracle, would tell him his fortune for free. Something to look forward to, he thought sarcastically.

Iolaus turned and stomped into the house. ‘Better leave a note for Herc,’ he thought... ‘can’t expect Apollo to let him know where I’ve gone, or why. Gods...they’re nothing but trouble...just like I told Herc a couple of weeks ago.’

Iolaus scribbled a brief note on a piece of parchment he found in a drawer. “Gone to Delphi...Apollo worried about mercenaries...see you there. Iolaus” Although he was sorely tempted to also make some rude remark about Herc’s overbearing and demanding relatives, he refrained. No point in grousing to Hercules...it wasn’t like he’d chosen to be related to these nutcases. Iolaus rummaged around the pantry, found a couple of dried apples and a hunk of only slightly moldy cheese. Stuffing the cheese, and the extra apple into his pack, he closed up the house and munched on the apple as he headed west, into the night.

Distracted and irritated, he didn’t hear the whispering in the leaves, didn’t hear the distant echo of Alcmene’s voice, urging him to take care.....

It was just after midnight when Hercules began the climb up into the pass at Mount Phicium. He could hear the voices of many men before he came to the top of the pass, and the night was suddenly made bright by the fires lit on two massive pyres just as he rounded the trail to the cliff where the Sphinx had challenged, and murdered, countless travellers. Wrinkling his nose against the stench, Hercules scanned the crowd, looking for Iolaus, but could find no trace of the familiar blond curls. However, he did spot Teleron. Not sure whether to be worried yet, or not, Herc made his way to the youngman’s side.

“Teleron?” Herc said as he came up to the boy, causing the youth to jump. “Sorry,” Herc put a hand on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean to startle you. What’s going on here...where’s Iolaus?”

“Oh, Hercules! You’re here already...I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow night!” Teleron exclaimed.

Herc shrugged slightly, “I decided to come early...so, what happened...where’s Iolaus?” he asked, looking uneasily at the bodies being consumed by the flames.

Teleron followed his gaze, realized that Hercules was afraid Iolaus might be one of those who had died. “Oh...don’t worry....Iolaus is fine. He answered the riddle and the Sphinx killed herself...though I’m not sure why. I would have thought she’d just fly off to torment some other village....He asked me to bring help, to give the victims a decent end...and to burn the Sphinx as well.”

“And, Iolaus is...where?” enquired Hercules.

“Oh...I think he went to your old place...just like he said he would, to wait for you.”

Herc nodded, looked once more at the pyres, then put an arm briefly around Teleron’s shoulders, as he turned to head on his way. “Thanks,” was all he said as he disappeared into the dark, following the trail down the mountain.

In less than an hour, he was letting himself into the darkened house. ‘Iolaus must be sound asleep,’ he thought. No surprise...Hercules figured Iolaus had to have been exhausted by the time he got here. Not wanting to disturb his friend by going into his old room, the room they’d always shared whenever Iolaus had stayed overnight, Herc bedded down in his mother’s old room. In no time, he was sound asleep.

When he awoke to the sounds of birds outside the bedroom window, it was just after dawn, the morning light still soft, the air still cool. Stretching, he got up and, on his way downstairs, he peeked into his old room, expecting to see Iolaus still sleeping. Instead, he saw two well made beds...beds that looked suspiciously like they had never been disturbed. Frowning, he called out, “Iolaus?” as he made his way down to the living area.Where was he? Hercules wandered into the kitchen...the most likely place to find Iolaus if he wasn’t sleeping...and, it was there, that Hercules found the note.

Herc frowned as he read the scribbled message. “Iolaus,” he muttered in an exasperated tone, “couldn’t you, just once, wait for me before you head into trouble?” Wasting no time, Hercules grabbed up a waterskin as he headed for the door. Iolaus must have at least a twelve hour lead on him....Herc hit the ground running.

Iolaus had followed the mountain trails through the forests, heading cross country to Delphi. Although not the main road, the trails were well used, easy to follow under the bright light of a moon just beginning to wane. The air cooled off quickly when the sun set...and was cooler still at these higher altitudes, so Iolaus jogged, to keep warm as much as to make good time. But, it was a fair distance, and, tired, he was slower than usual. It was dawn by the time he came around the side of a mountain and looked across the valley at the peaceful glory of Delphi.

Iolaus stopped a moment to take in the incredible beauty of the area. It never failed to move him. The valley floor, and the low slopes, were covered with millions upon millions of ancient, knarled olive trees, their fruit still green this early in the season. The dusty grey-green of their leaves, glimmering a bit with the dew of morning, contrasted with the darker green of the tall, austere cypresses that were interspersed amongst the shorter trees, and the rich, blue green of the pines higher on the mountains. The earth of the trails was a deep, rich red, glowing in the dawn’s early light...and beside the trails, under the trees in the valley and on the slopes, were thousands of different varieties of flowers...all the colours of the rainbow and sky...just beginning to open as the day began. Beyond the valley, he could see the impossible turquoise of the Bay of Corinth, sun sparkles reflected from the distant waves. Above, towered the snow crested peak of Mount Parnassus.

Below him, he could make out the ancient original Temple to Apollo, a delicate circle of white columns, all that was left after an earthquake and landslide had taken their toll years ago. And, directly across the valley, he could see the tiers of Temples, cloisters for the priestesses, public buildings and the curve of the seats of the theatre high on the mountain side...all of it glowing a blinding white, reflecting the light back toward the sun that had just come over the top of the mountain. The Oracle of Delphi...the most famous oracle in the world...one of the holiest of places in Greece. Iolaus had seen much of the world...but, he’d never found a place more beautiful than this.

Even though his destination was in sight, it still took almost two hours to follow the trail almost to the valley floor, then across and along the mountainside above the original temple, to the base of the new site. By now, Iolaus was on the main road and he turned off it to enter into the Temple compound. Heading past the lightning blasted skeleton of an ancient pine, Iolaus followed the marble pathway up the final stretch of his journey. The path was shadowed by laurel trees, the tree most often associated with Apollo because it grew in such profusion here, at the site of his Oracle. He passed smaller shrines on his way up to the main Temple, the walkway so steep in places that stairs had been fashioned with marble to ease the path of the supplicants who flocked here from everywhere.

Finally, Iolaus stood before the massive marble Temple which housed the Oracle. He smiled a little cynically when he recalled that the temple was dedicated to Zeus, rather than to Apollo...a gesture on Apollo’s part to placate a father who had been displeased when Apollo had killed the Python...the original oracle...centuries before. Huge, rounded pillars supported the flat roof of the Temple, beautiful patterns and designs, images of the gods and great events, were carved in relief into the marble walls.

He would let the Pythia know he had arrived, then head into town, find an inn...and a nice, comfortable bed. The mercenaries could wait until later...maybe he’d share a mug or two of ale with a few of them that afternoon, find out who they were and why they had come to Delphi. No hurry, now that he was here...Herc wasn’t due to arrive in Thebes until tonight, so it would be tomorrow, at the earliest, before he’d get here. Iolaus was determined to avoid trouble... at least, until Herc caught up with him. After all, he had promised not to take on any monsters on his own...and mercenaries who meant trouble were nothing but two legged monsters who preyed upon the weak and the vulnerable.

Stretching his aching, tired body, Iolaus settled his pack more firmly over his shoulder, then climbed the steps up to the entrance, soaking in the peace and tranquillity, the quiet, that surrounded him. The sound of his footsteps on the marble echoed throughout the great hall...and alerted a priestess to his entrance. A graceful young woman, robed in diaphanous veils of white silk, appeared from a door across the hall and came toward him. “Can I help you?” she asked in a low, rich voice.

Iolaus just gazed at her for a moment...did they always choose the prettiest girls to serve in the Temples of the Gods? Probably...if he was a god, he would do the same. Coming back from his reverie with a jerk, he hastened to answer her question. “Yes, I hope so... my name is Iolaus. Apollo asked me to come, to speak with the Pythia. I believe she is expecting me. Would it be possible to see her now?”

The priestess smiled her welcome, “Of course, we have been expecting you...but, you have come more quickly than anticipated...Apollo only told the Pythia last night that he was sending you to her.”

Iolaus just grinned back at her, “Well, Apollo gave me the impression that he didn’t want me wasting any time getting here...so, here I am!”

The priestess gave a slight nod, enjoying the exchange...not all supplicants were this attractive...not all had such charming smiles or dazzling eyes. Turning, she beckoned him to follow her, “Come, I’ll take you to the Pythia...” and she led him across the hall, into the inner sanctuary of the Oracle.

The light was dimmer here, the interior space lit sparingly with candles. The Pythia was seated on her three legged stool, leaning into the vapours that rose from the opening in the floor in front of her. They waited quietly, not wishing to disturb her meditations, until she chose to notice them. However, it was only moments before she leaned back, sighed, and rose to meet them.

‘Why, she’s....beautiful...beyond beautiful,’ Iolaus thought, as she approached him. Tall, elegant, her chestnut hair, was swept up, a mass of curls that framed her exquisite face. The Pythia had a classic, ethereal beauty...alabaster skin, high cheekbones, arching brows and eyes the colour of the sea. She looked young, but her eyes were old...in some fundamental way, she was ageless. Her slender form was gowned in layers of multicoloured silk which flowed about her...she seemed to float, not walk like ordinary people. Narrow bands of gold encircled her forehead, her bare upper arms and her wrists. The Pythia was breathtaking.

She stopped just in front of him, reached up a delicate hand to brush back his unruly curls, “A wreath of laurel, like a crown,” she murmured, her voice soft, yet mellow, with the echoes of music deep within it. The back of her fingers drifted down his cheek, a soft caress...her eyes darkened as she looked deeply into his. “You are Iolaus,” she said, with warmth and affection, as if she had known him always. “I have been expecting you.” She studied him a moment more, a sadness in her eyes and in the ghost of the smile on her lips. “I’m sorry...” she whispered, as she took his hands, studied them, her thumbs gently massaging his wrists, “there are visions of times to come I would rather never see...”

Iolaus felt a chill creep up his spine. Finding his voice, he asked quietly, “What do you see?”

She looked back up, into his eyes. “I see a brave, selfless man defending those of us here...against insurmountable odds. I see you, Iolaus, wearing a laurel crown.” Her eyes lost their focus for a moment, as she looked at something they could not see, eyes that glimmered with unshed tears. “Blood will fire the fury...and, the fury will make this place clean,” she intoned, her voice somewhere far away.

The Pythia came back from whatever future place she’d been, her eyes focused again on his, her smile wistful. “Thank you,” she said, “thank you for coming to help us.” She rested a hand lightly on his arm for a moment, her touch making him tremble slightly. He could feel a power in that hand...a power he didn’t understand.

Iolaus shook himself, to throw off the slightly dazed feeling that had come over him...and the exhaustion that was taking possession of his mind and his body. “Uh...you’re welcome,” he belatedly responded to her words of gratitude. Striving for some sense of normalcy in this very strange place, Iolaus told her his plans. “Look, you probably already know Hercules will be here...probably by tomorrow...I’m just going to head into town and find a room somewhere...get some sleep. Tonight, I’ll try to find out what these mercenaries want, if anything....” but he broke off as he again saw the flash of sadness in her eyes. He couldn’t help it...he had to ask. “What? What do you see when you look at me like that?”

But, she only shook her head, “The time is coming soon enough...you’ll not have to wait long to learn what I see. Be brave, Iolaus, be strong...face what comes as you always have...”

Looking away from her, avoiding those eyes that saw too much, frowning, Iolaus unconsciously bit his lip as he considered all that she had said. ‘I see you, Iolaus, wearing a laurel crown.’ Well, crown or no crown, this didn’t sound like a fun time would be had by all... ‘Blood will fire the fury...and, the fury will make this place clean.’ Who’s blood? Who’s fury? The sadness in her eyes when she looked at him didn’t exactly fill him with confidence, either. Why couldn’t oracles ever speak clearly, like anyone else...why was it always cryptic messages, symbolic language, that he was never able to understand.

‘Oh gods, this doesn’t sound good at all,’ Iolaus thought. ‘I see a brave, selfless man defending those of us here...against insurmountable odds.’ Well, that part was pretty clear... ‘insurmountable’ meant he’d be defeated. Damn, if he got himself into trouble before Hercules got here, Herc would never forgive him. In the past, he had never really considered how his actions impacted on Hercules, not in terms of the terrible pain his partner felt whenever Iolaus was hurt. Now...now he really understood they both paid a price when the other was hurt...or killed. When he thought Herc had died, he had lost his grip on his sanity...he hadn’t cared if he lived or died...would have preferred to die. He had never known such deep, soul destroying pain...it had been like being ravaged, torn and broken. This is what he had done to Herc time and time again.

He’d promised he wouldn’t fight monsters alone again...when he had faced the Sphinx, there had at least been a possibility of a bloodless victory. But, given the Pythia’s words...more, given the grief in her eyes when she looked at him, he knew if he took on the mercenaries alone he could not win...at best, a brutal beating and serious wounds...at worst, death. How could he do this to Herc, knowing now what it would cost his friend?

‘Maybe I should just head back up into the hills and come back tomorrow with Herc,’ he decided. It wasn’t as if the mercenaries had posed any definite threat. It was then that he heard the clatter of heavy boots on the marble floor of the hall beyond the door, heard a muffled scream.

Startled, he looked up into her eyes, saw his fate written there. For the first time in his life, Iolaus hesitated. If he went out there, the odds were he would die. He looked at the Pythia, at the priestess by her side, heard again a muffled cry of pain.

‘Gods, Herc,’ he thought, ‘I hope you’ll understand...I can’t...I can’t keep my promise...I just can’t leave them defenceless...I couldn’t live with that....”

Pulling his sword from his scabbard, he said to the Pythia, “Please...tell Hercules...tell Herc I’m sorry.” Then, he turned and headed out to face the mercenaries.

There were at least twenty of them...large, mean and ugly. One hairy behemoth held a cringing priestness by one arm, laughing as she tried to pull away.

“Let her go.”

The cruel laughter stopped as they all turned to look at the diminutive blond warrior standing in front of the door at the far end of the hall, his sword held ready, his stance confident, his expression resolute.

The priestess took advantage of their distraction. Pulling away from the man who held her, she ran to stand briefly behind Iolaus, then she slipped through the door he guarded.

Unconcerned, the mercenaries didn’t try to stop her...they would catch up with her later. When they realized Iolaus was alone, most sneered in amusement. Who did this guy think he was? The incarnation of Apollo?

The hirsute giant took a step forward. “You’d better put that toothpick down, squirt, before you hurt yourself.”

Iolaus just smiled as he raised one brow, sniffed the air, “You smell like last week’s garbage...why don’t you and the rest of the trash with you get out while you still can.”

There was one moment of shocked silence, then the leader started to laugh. “You may be puny, but you sure talk tough! Be nice and I might even let you join us.” The leader might be smelly and ugly...but, he was no fool. The man in front of him was a warrior...a confident one. He could be an asset in the days to come.

Iolaus snorted, “Like I’d ever associate with animals like you.” He waited a beat, then spoke slowly, his voice low, threatening. “Leave now, or I promise you, you’ll die here at Delphi.”

A mercenary in the back snickered. “Who does he think he is...the Oracle?”

“Good question, Marius,” murmured the leader. “Who are you, blondie?”

“Iolaus, of Thebes.”

“Well, Iolaus of Thebes, if you are all that Apollo has to defend his Temple and Treasury, this should be a whole lot easier than we had thought it would be.”

Iolaus’ eyes danced, all the fatigue gone, pushed away by the adrenaline that flowed through his body. He felt the energy that always filled him before a battle, the unholy joy of facing tremendous odds, of casting his lot to the fates. They might take him...but it would cost them, cost them dearly. He responded with a cocky grin, “Oh...it won’t be easy...I can promise you that.”

The leader just chuckled deep in his throat, “Cheeky devil, aren’t you?” Then, he signalled to two of his goons, “Take him.”

Two burly mercenaries broke from the group, pulled out their swords and moved toward him. Never liking to wait too long for the enemy to come to him, Iolaus stood silently until they were in range, then, with a war cry, he spun into battle. Twirling in a fast circle, to gain momentum and power, he swung his sword up and across, slicing through the throat of the first mercenary and, completing the spin, he kicked out the legs of the other, clipping his head with the hilt of his sword, knocking the man senseless. Backing to his original position, he stared the leader in the eye. “Who’s next?” he asked quietly, “Unless you’d rather take what’s left of them and go.”

The hall was silent. He’d gotten their attention...the next ones would be more careful. The hairy leader signalled three others to move forward. They came at him cautiously, spreading out so they wouldn’t be easy targets. Iolaus’s sword carved slow circles in the air, mesmerizing them, as he watched them come toward him. Then, he was a dancing blur of energy and death...taking out the man to his left, ducking under the swinging sword of the man in the middle, Iolaus stabbed upward into the man’s chest, then, quickly pulling his weapon back, he tumbled in a back roll away from the goon coming at him from the right. Rolling to his feet, Iolaus knocked the man’s sword aside, cutting the man’s arm. Howling in rage and pain, his opponent dropped his sword, grabbing his arm to stem the flow of blood.

Even as he spun back into position, Iolaus saw three more come at him. They were smart ...they didn’t come at him all at once, getting into each other’s way, blocking each other’s moves. No, they were disciplined to some extent, experienced in the arts of war... their only error so far had been their overconfidence. Iolaus had done a rapid count when he first saw them...twenty mercenaries had crowded into the hall...five were down, fifteen to go.

Iolaus took out two more before one managed to cut him...a thin slash across his chest. Shallow, it stung but it wasn’t all that serious. Iolaus danced away, laughing, “Seven down...who wants to be number eight?” But, it was bravado and he knew it. The long days without sleep, the journeys from the Academy to Cape Sounion, from the Acropolis to the coast and back to Thebes...the night trek across the mountains...had taken their toll. Iolaus was not inexhaustable, much as he usually pretended he was. His arms were growing heavy, his moves were slowing down. It was only a matter of time now. But, he would take a few more before they took him down.

Iolaus had suffered a deep cut on his right arm by the time he had taken out the eighth opponent. Rolling under a slashing blade, he cut deeply into another assailant’s leg...but he felt a burn deep in his right side...someone had caught him on his blind side...had really hurt him this time. Iolaus staggered as he came to his feet. Like wolves, they scented blood and moved in, moved in from all sides. Iolaus tried to keep his back to the wall, tried to make sure no one got behind him...but, as he spun to block the sword of one, another moved in quickly, slamming him across the back of the head with the flat side of the sword, stunning him, knocking him to the floor. And then they were kicking him. He curled, trying to protect his head, but one heavy blow to his wounded right side sent a burst of blinding pain. ‘Herc...’ he thought, just before the darkness overtook him.

The leader of the mercenaries gave him one more vicious kick before he stood back and called the others off. The man looked at the bodies on the floor, the others holding bleeding limbs. “Well, he was right about one thing...it wasn’t easy,” he muttered. Studying the unconscious man sprawled at his feet, he signalled two of his men to check out the room beyond the door Iolaus had been guarding. They were only gone a few moments, when they returned shaking their heads. “There’s another entrance in the back...whoever was in there is gone now,” one of them reported. “Great,” muttered the behemoth, disgusted, “the Pythia got away.”

“You four,” he said to the men standing closest to Iolaus, “bring him and follow me...the rest of you, spread out and find the Treasury. If it’s not in this Temple, it will likely be in one of the buildings nearby.” Turning, he led the way out of the Temple into the bright sunlight beyond.

Hercules had been running flat out for four hours...he was more than halfway to Delphi. Thirsty, he’d stopped briefly to take a drink from his waterskin. He had just slung it back over his shoulder when he felt a dull, deep burn in his side, a coldness around his heart. His head snapped up, his eyes searching the horizon to the west. “Iolaus,” he whispered...and, then, he was running...running as if being chased by all the hounds of hell.

Leading his men, with their unconscious burden, down toward the entrance to the Temple compound, he broke slender branches from the laurel trees he passed, weaving them together into the shape of a wreath as he walked. Finally, he stopped by the lightning blasted wreck of the ancient pine. He studied it for a moment, then pointed, “Hang him by his arms from that branch.”

Two of his men pulled out long strips of rawhide they had looped around their belts. Each tied a thong tightly around a wrist, then, after dragging Iolaus to the tree, the other two supported Iolaus’ body, while they secured the cords to the bleached, but still sturdy, limb, stretching Iolaus’ arms high over his head. When they stepped back, Iolaus was suspended limply about two feet above the ground, his head fallen forward onto his chest.

“How’s that Krakus?” one of the mercenaries asked their leader. Krakus considered their handiwork for a moment, took in the effect of the blood streaming down Iolaus’ arms from the nicks and cuts he had suffered, the bloody mess of his chest from the slash there, and the blood that flowed steadily from the deep wound in his right side, just under his ribs and visible beneath his vest, which was pulled high by his upstretched arms. Nodding, Krakus replied, “Not bad.” Stepping forward, he put the laurel wreath on Iolaus’ head, a crown of leaves.

“What’s that for?” one of the others asked.

“That, my lad, is the symbol of Apollo...let any of his loyal followers take a lesson from this man...and know that they will share his fate if they interfere with us,” replied Krakus, satisfaction heavy in his voice.

Turning away, he led them back up the hill, to the Temple...and to the riches of Apollo’s Treasury.

Hercules rounded the last mountain between him and Iolaus. From here, he could see the site of the Oracle across the valley, but he didn’t stop to admire the view. With every step, his sense of urgency grew, the fear tight in his chest. With great, leaping strides, he plunged down the mountain, sweat glistening on his body, his hair streaming behind him, driven by a desperate need to reach his friend.

In less than an hour, he had covered the distance. His feet pounding on the hard packed red earth of the main road, he almost slid into the turn through the compound gates...where he stumbled to a halt, frozen by the sight of the bloody body hanging limply from the blasted tree in front of him. Time seemed to stop, silence pounded in his ears. “Oh, gods, Iolaus...please, no...” he whispered. And, then he was moving, as if in a trance, until he stood before his friend. Reaching out a trembling hand, he felt for a pulse...and almost collapsed with relief when he found it...slow, but there.

Supporting Iolaus with one strong arm, he reached up and snapped the bindings that held Iolaus to the tree, then he gently laid Iolaus on the ground. Iolaus’ head had fallen back on the arm that supported his shoulders, the wreath of laurels still tangled in his hair. His face was grey, his skin cold to the touch. Quickly, Hercules assessed his injuries...hands swollen, a bluish purple from lack of circulation, the wrists torn by the thin rawhide cords, the cuts and bruises on his face and body, the slash across his chest, the deep wound in his side. How long had he hung there, slowly bleeding to death?

Hercules scooped Iolaus up into his arms and standing, he looked around, wondering where the closest source of help might be. His eye was caught by a priestess standing by a small, peaked shrine not far ahead of him, on the first curve of the path up the hill to the Temple. She motioned to him, drawing him forward. In moments, he had covered the distance between them. Turning toward the entrance to the shrine, she said quietly, “Lay him on the alter inside.” Hercules strode past her, into the dim, cool interior, then carefully laid Iolaus on the alter he found there. A movement in the corner drew his attention. His hand protectively resting on Iolaus’ chest, he turned his head to see who was there.

The Pythia came toward him, stood silently on the other side of the alter. Hercules looked from her, back down at Iolaus. His friend was barely breathing. Herc brushed the curls back from his friend’s face, seemed to notice the laurel crown for the first time. Gently, he disentangled it from Iolaus’ hair...holding it, he whispered, “Who did this?”

“The mercenaries,” she replied quietly, “up in the Temple. They have found Apollo’s Treasury...they are drunk with the riches that surround them, the visions of glory which dance before their eyes.” She watched Hercules crush the wreath in his hand. “Iolaus stood alone against them, protecting us...he fought bravely...but, there were too many.” Looking down at the silent, almost lifeless man between them, she continued, satisfaction warring with regret in her voice, “But, he made them pay...they did not take him easily.”

“They haven’t begun to pay,” rasped Hercules, his voice tight with the fury that consumed him.

“He asked me to tell you that he was sorry,” the Pythia murmured softly.

Herc’s eyes filled with tears. He clenched his jaw against the pain he felt, hardly able to speak. “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered. Gently, Hercules touched Iolaus’ face, lingering a moment more. “Take care of him,” he ordered, before he turned away. Then, he was gone, out the door, heading up the path to the Temple.

Hercules ripped a limb from a tree along the path, stripping the small branches from it as he strode up the hill. He heard the voices before he reached the Temple. Triumphant voices, laughing and shouting in what they thought was the glory of their success. They were rich! Nothing could stand in their way.

Nothing but the vengeful wrath of the furious demigod who strode into their midst, swinging his club with cold deliberation. Laughter turned to screams of pain and shouts of confusion. He knocked some into the walls, kicked others into oblivion, threw off those who leapt upon his back, silent in his rage. In minutes, only one man was left standing, Krakus, the leader of this motley band of mercenaries. Krakus, who stumbled back to the far side of the great hall, as far as he could get from the deadly anger he saw burning in those icy blue eyes. Hercules somehow knew this was their leader...the one most responsible for what had been done to Iolaus.

His face a frozen mask of fury, Hercules threw away the club as he shouted, “If Iolaus dies, I promise you, I will tear you, and the rest of these miserable excuses for men, apart...piece by piece, with my bare hands.” Advancing on Krakus, striding forward across the hall, Hercules’ voice dropped to a cold, menacing tone, “Pray to any god you think will hear you...pray that he lives.”

Krakus saw the trace of madness lurking in those eyes, and, for the first time in his life, he wished he knew how to pray. “Leave now, or I promise you, you’ll die here at Delphi,” the small blond warrior had said. Maybe he was the oracle after all. It was Krakus’ last conscious thought before Hercules spun in a circle, bringing up his right arm to slam Krakus across the side of the head, felling him like a tree to the cold marble floor at Hercules’ feet.

Breathing hard, Hercules looked at the fallen men, sprawled amongst the treasure they had coveted. He swore to himself, if his friend died, he would show them the same mercy they had shown Iolaus. None.

Hercules left the Temple hall. Standing on the steps, he roared out his pain and fury, “APOLLO! APOLLO! Hear me...if you let Iolaus die, there will be no place on this EARTH...ABOVE it or BELOW it...where you will be able to hide from me!” He stood a moment more, trembling in his rage, his soul tortured by the desperate fear he felt for Iolaus. Finally, he descended the steps, heading back down the path to the small shrine.

Hercules paused as he entered the shrine, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light...afraid of what might be waiting there for him. He saw that they had washed the blood from Iolaus’ body...but, there were no bandages. Trembling, he walked slowly to his friend’s side...they would have bandaged the wounds of a living man.

The Pythia was standing where he had left her, on the other side of the alter. His eyes filled with hopeless pain, he looked across at her...and was stunned to see her smiling serenely at him. “Fear not, Hercules...your friend is only sleeping. Apollo has seen to his injuries.”

Herc fell to his knees beside the alter, clasped Iolaus’ hand between his own, a warm, living hand, held the clasped hands against his bowed forehead. Hot tears burned beneath his eyelids as he shuddered in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Hercules had remained by Iolaus’ side until the tumult of his emotions had settled...and he could see that Iolaus was, truly, going to be alright. As his terror for Iolaus abated, it took with it the fury that had consumed him, driven him beyond the bounds of reason. Leaving Iolaus to the vigilant eye of the priestess who had remained with them after the Pythia had returned to the Temple, Hercules wandered outside...he needed a place to think...needed to face what he had done...what he had been prepared to do.

Not far from the shrine, there was a bench in the shadow of the laurel trees lining the marble pathway. Herc sank down upon it, stared sightlessly across the valley to the hills beyond. He could have killed those men...almost had. Would have, if Iolaus had died. It terrified him....He had spent his whole life learning how to curb and control his strength so that he would not hurt anyone unnecessarily. He only killed when there was absolutely no other choice. But today....what had happened to him today?

Hercules thought back over the times past, the times when Iolaus had been most badly injured. He realized that he had often destroyed the being who had taken Iolaus from him...the SheDemon, the Fire Enforcer, Dahok were some of the examples. Beings who were not human...who were, by their very nature, evil...irredeemable. But, when it had been humans...the Amazons, for example...he had attempted to understand, attempted to find justice rather than revenge.

Today, he’d crossed the line. He was always afraid that Iolaus’ body could only take so much damage...that someday, he just wouldn’t survive. Herc had never considered that each wound on his own soul was leaving him more damaged as well...that, perhaps, there was a limit to how much of this kind of terror and pain he could endure, without indeed going mad. Herc had to admit, he had been very close to madness when he lost Iolaus to Dahok. Did losing Iolaus ultimately mean losing himself? Was that it? Was that what had happened today? And, if it was, what did that mean for their partnership? Did it mean that he needed to find a way to live without Iolaus...before that reality was thrust upon him by death? Did it mean they should go their separate ways, for both their sakes?

Or, was it simply that he had been running flat out the whole day, consumed by an anxiety that had grown into fear...and the fear had escalated into all out horror when he had seen Iolaus hanging from that tree. Was it that he just hadn’t stopped long enough to get any balance, to allow reason to prevail? But, why had the horror translated into fury? It was the fury that had taken him beyond the bounds of reason. What had made him so furious this time...so beside himself that he had resorted to mindless violence?

Hercules pushed his hands through his hair, forcing himself to go back over everything that had happened that day, up to the point where he had left the shrine to brutalize the mercenaries. This morning...he had been irritated with Iolaus for having gone off without him...once again, thoughtlessly walking into danger....hadn’t he promised to be more careful? Then, all the time he had been running here, most particularly after he’d had that old familiar cold feeling that told him Iolaus was in serious trouble...he’d been frightened ...but, he had also been angry. Why couldn’t Iolaus be more careful...why was he always getting in over his head? Why didn’t he ever learn? He’d promised to be careful.

Then, when he’d seen Iolaus hanging there, when he’d laid him on the alter, Herc had known that Iolaus’ injuries would, at best, leave him without hands...at worst, would leave him dead. Iolaus had promised....Iolaus had finally understood that he wasn’t the only one who paid a terrible price for his rash, impetuous, thoughtless, even courageous self sacrifices. Finally, understanding the cost to Hercules, he’d promised not to go up against impossible odds alone again...because that’s what “monster’ represented...impossible odds. He had to have known he could not prevail over all the mercenaries all by himself. Iolaus had broken the promise he had made only yesterday...and, all he could say, the only message he had left, was that he was 'sorry'.

Herc started to tremble as he felt the anger build again...and, he finally realized, it wasn’t the mercenaries who had caused his fury...it had been Iolaus. Iolaus had deliberately broken his promise...it was a betrayal of the most fundamental kind. Unable or unwilling to face his fury against Iolaus, he had transfered it to the mercenaries, as if they were solely responsible for what had happened. But they weren’t responsible. If Iolaus had waited for him in the first place, if he hadn’t engaged them in battle.....Hercules had brutalized them because he couldn’t face feeling such raw fury against the one person who meant more to him than did anyone else in the world. That was what had driven him beyond the bounds of reason.

The anger faded away as Hercules sat and stared out over the valley, through the rest of the afternoon, and as the light faded into dusk and then dark. He felt as if he had hit some kind of wall...and he didn’t know what to do. Iolaus hadn’t kept his promise...not a light, throw away promise, as in “I promise I’ll cook tomorrow night”.... He’d broken a promise that both knew was about life and death. It was a breach of trust...and Herc didn’t know if he’d be able to really trust Iolaus again. Could he accept that Iolaus was simply unable to resist the draw of danger, the thrill of defeating the odds...that Iolaus would never be able to learn to make a different kind of choice.

Gradually, he became aware that he was no longer alone in the night. The Pythia was standing quietly, watching him, watching the struggle play out on his face. “May I join you? Or do you wish to remain alone?” she asked quietly.

Herc sat a little straighter, indicated the space beside him on the bench, “Please, join me...I’d be glad of your company.” His words were welcoming, but his voice was weary.

“You are greatly disturbed, Hercules...would it help to talk about it?”

Herc gazed at her. Would it help? “I’ve been sitting here realizing how angry I am with Iolaus for getting hurt...again. He’d made me a promise...he betrayed it. And, I’m terrified that my anger turned into such a fury that I lost control...I could have killed those men.” Hercules sighed. “I don’t know what to do...whether I can ever trust Iolaus again.”

The Pythia sat silently for a few minutes. Hercules had begun to wonder if she was going to offer any comment, when she turned to face him. “Hercules, you have understood the reason for your fury...and in understanding it, such fury will not come again. You will recognise the danger of it...and you will resist it. Put your terror aside.” She paused a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “The matter of Iolaus is more difficult. But, you do not have all the information, so you cannot have a complete understanding of what happened. Without this full understanding, you can not make a balanced judgment about the future....and, you cannot achieve this understanding without speaking with Iolaus. You need to ask him why he betrayed his promise to you...and then, you need to decide if you can accept his answer, or not....only then can you decide your future path.”

The Pythia stood, looked down upon him with compassion. “You are at a crossroads, but you will find the right path, Hercules. For tonight, you need to rest...there is nothing more you can do now. We have made up a pallet for you in the shrine so that you may be near your friend. I will not see you again before you leave.” She turned to go, then paused, turned back to face him one last time. “Know this, Hercules...I and my priestesses are grateful to both you and Iolaus for what you have done for us this day. Those men would have done us great harm....” Then, she turned up the path, disappeared into the night.

Herc sat for a few minutes more, pondering her words. He took comfort from the thought that, in understanding his fury, he would be able to recognize it, and master it, in the future. He needed to believe he would not lose control, like he had today, again. He would hear Iolaus’ reasons...maybe they would make a difference. Weary, Hercules stood and returned to the shrine. Iolaus was still sound asleep...making up for having been on the run for more than three days without rest. Herc stretched out on his own pallet, but it was a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.

They had rested a day at Delphi before they headed back across the mountains to Thebes. The Pythia watched them climb the distant hill.... “Blood will fire the fury...and, the fury will make this place clean.” The prophesy had been fulfilled.

Hercules hadn’t said much to Iolaus while they were in Delphi...there were always too many other people around. But, Iolaus had seen the battered men who were led away from Delphi by the local militia...he was surprised to see the extent of their injuries...Herc had almost killed a few of them. That wasn’t like Hercules...even when under the greatest threat, he tried not to really hurt other people...he really believed in the importance of trusting to the courts and justice to decide the fates of the wrongdoers they encountered.

Iolaus knew he and Hercules needed to talk about what had happened. He knew his friend was angry, Iolaus could feel the tension, see it in Herc’s body. But, Herc hadn’t said much at Delphi...and he’d said even less since they’d left the Temple compound. Now, as they headed up into the mountains, Iolaus was wondering when exactly Herc would have something to say. Watching Hercules from the corner of his eye, Iolaus knew he’d have to help Herc get started... otherwise, his friend would seeth in silence all the way home.

“I’m sorry...” he started, unaware that ‘sorry’ was the wrong thing to say...that ‘sorry’ was the word that had triggered the fury two days before...that triggered the anger now.

“You promised,” Herc cut in, his voice tight, “you promised you wouldn’t fight any monsters without me!”

“Herc, I...”

“Damn it, Iolaus,” Herc rounded on his friend, so angry his fists were clenched at his side. “Will you never learn? I thought you had finally understood....I thought you’d be more careful...for my sake if not your own.”

“If you’d let me explain....”

“Explain? Explain what? Explain why you took off after an unknown number of mercenaries without me? Explain why you felt you had to fight them all on your own? Explain why I had to find you hanging half dead from a tree?”

“It’s not like I started it!” Iolaus protested.

Herc stared at him in despair. “IOLAUS! It doesn’t matter who started it...you shouldn’t have gone there alone in the first place. Damn it, Iolaus...you gave me your word...and then you betrayed it...betrayed me, our friendship. Don’t you understand...I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

“Oh...I see,” Iolaus replied, stunned by Herc’s words. He had known Hercules would be upset...but, he hadn’t ever thought it would be this serious...that it might cause a rift that could not be repaired.

“YOU SEE! That’s it? Iolaus, I almost killed those men because I was so consumed with fury at finding you like that...I lost it! I completely lost it! And it was because you had betrayed me...deliberately put yourself at risk knowing...knowing what that would cost the both of us. Gods, Iolaus...when I can’t trust you...I get lost...and that terrifies me. I can’t risk that happening again.”

Gods, this was worse than Iolaus had ever imagined. Herc was working himself to break up their partnership...this couldn’t be happening. He had to stop this.

“Herc...please listen to me...please...try to understand....”

“RRRGGGHHH!” Hercules growled, unable to even try to be articulate, as he turned and strode away up the path. That did it...now Iolaus was mad. Running to catch up with his friend, he grabbed Hercules by the arm and dragged the larger man around to face him.

“Damn it, Hercules, will you listen to me! You act like I did it deliberately just to hurt you...or completely thoughtlessly, as if the promise meant nothing to me...as if, frankly, you, how you feel, means nothing to me....and that’s just not true. I was going to head back into the hills to avoid trouble...to wait for you...to make sure I kept my promise to you. But, those men came into the Temple while I was there...grabbed a priestess...hurt her. What would you have had me do? Abandon them? Let them be abused, maybe even killed....just walk away and let that happen? Could you have done that? Could you ever have respected me again, if I had?”

Iolaus paused, trying to calm down. “Please believe me, I never want to hurt you, Hercules ...but, I couldn’t live with myself if I had left those women defenceless, just to save myself. I am sorry for the pain it caused you...but, I’d do it again in the same situation. I guess that means I shouldn’t make promises that I can’t keep...not at the cost of someone else’s life. If that means you can never trust me again...well, I guess there isn’t much I can do about that.”

Hercules struggled to bring his own anger back under control. Iolaus hadn’t just been thoughtless or careless....Weary of fighting, he shook his head, “Iolaus, it just seems that everytime I leave you alone, you get into trouble....”

“Herc, that’s not fair. It’s not like I meant to almost get myself killed back there....”

“Does that mean you meant it every other time?” Herc challenged, knowing that he was beginning to sound ridiculous.

“Well, no...” Iolaus couldn’t help it, he started to giggle. He knew Herc wanted to slap him silly....it wasn’t that...his reaction was more hysterical than anything else. It had been a long time since Hercules had been this angry with him.

Irritated by the laughter, Hercules snapped, “You think this is funny?”

“No,” Iolaus spluttered, putting a hand over his mouth to hold back the giggles he couldn’t control. “I’m sorry....I really am!” he gasped out, but his eyes were dancing.

Hercules just looked at him and shook his head...all of the fury gone. He took a deep breath, thought about why Iolaus had abandoned the promise he had made...and admitted to himself that he would have done the same thing, given the same circumstances. It was who they were...they both put other people first...it was part of what they most respected and valued in one another. “Okay, Iolaus...I understand why you acted the way you did...and, yes, I probably would have done the same thing.”

“Probably? Only ‘probably’?” pushed Iolaus.

“Alright, yes, I would have done the same thing.”

“So...that means that, maybe, you can still trust me?”

“I guess it does...and, I guess you’re also right that neither of us should make promises we can’t keep at the risk of someone else’s life.”

“Good...then, can we just let this go and get on with our lives?”

“Not quite,” responded Hercules, causing Iolaus to look up at him with a certain degree of trepidation in his eyes. Herc gave him a wry smile as he continued, “Do you know how long it’s going to be before I let you out of my sight again?”

“I don’t know...a hundred years, maybe?” Iolaus speculated.

“You wish...” Herc replied, a smile tugging at his lips, “more like a thousand!”

Iolaus grinned up at his best friend. “A thousand years is a long time!”

Hercules nodded in agreement, as he turned to continue up the path, hiding his smile behind a stern voice, “And I expect you to behave yourself for every single last day of it! No more impetuous actions, no more reckless, selfless acts of courage, no more thoughtlessness with respect to your own wellbeing....just calm, rationale, thoughtful behaviour from now on.”

Iolaus snorted as he caught up to his friend, “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen....”

Hercules chuckled as he looped an arm around Iolaus’ shoulders, drawing his friend to his side as they continued along the path. “There’s always hope, Iolaus, that you may someday grow up, if we both have patience...and you manage to live that long....”

“Hope is a good thing, Herc,” Iolaus giggled, “but, you know you’d be bored if I didn’t occasionally bring a little excitement into our lives.”

“Hmmm...well, frankly Iolaus, I think I’ve had enough excitement this last couple of months to last me for a good long while....what do you say, we just go back to the old fort, and fish for about a year?”

“Aw, Herc...are you sure you wouldn’t get bored? You know, without any bandits, or mercenaries, or warlords, or monsters...or even natural disasters, floods, earthquakes, acts of the gods.... Just fishing? For a year? Do you really think you could stand it?”

Hercules gave Iolaus a light shove, “Yeah...like I’m the one who can’t sit still for fifteen minutes without looking for trouble! Iolaus, you are the most incorrigable, shameless person I have ever met!”

“Who? Me?” Iolaus asked, in full puppy dog mode, with the wide innocent eyes peering up at Hercules. Herc could help it...Iolaus was so completely outrageous... he just broke up...and the sound of their laughter rang through the silent forest, echoing across the hills, carried on the wind.

Finis

Disclaimer: Apologies to the memory of Oedipus, who bested the Sphinx, only to win the hand of the Queen...and unwittingly take his mother as wife. Also, no violation of any copyrights was intended...Finally, no innocent victims or hapless monster were actually killed during the writing of this story...but a few smelly mercenaries did end up the worse for wear....

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