Without Words

PART ONE
The Thansis Kiss

Chapter 1

"It's very simple really. We need Hercules out of the way. If he's around he will interfere and if he interferes we'll fail and you won't become the king you want to be. King Pellius the great will forever be remembered as King Pellius the defeated; unable to produce an heir, unable to extend his kingdom, unable to protect his citizens from all-comers. Is that really how you want to be remembered?"

Pellius looked up from his desk and shook his head, his jowls swinging vigorously. He wanted to be remembered as a powerful king, as a monarch who did something grand, a monarch who was strong. He had to expand his realm he knew that. His small kingdom had always been a laughing stock; he needed it to be a threat. His advisor was using the fantasy he held close to his heart and never spoke of; the fantasy of the conquering hero, defeating all that stood in his way. He also had a not so secret fantasy of having a healthy son as heir to his throne. A son and a kingdom any man would be proud to pass on to his heir. Sighing he waved Tallin to continue, it was still a dream but Tallin seemed to think he could make the dream become reality and Pellius was willing to listen.

As the smaller man standing before him continued to speak, Pellius absent-mindedly picked at the sweetmeats on the silver salver that was always kept nearby, a smile growing on his face. It just might work, he may be the most feared King of all Greece yet, and he may even have the gods smiling on him by the time he was finished.

"Herc? Hercules! Are you sulking? You are, aren't you! Ha!" Iolaus bounced on his toes in front of the bigger man and giggled.

Hercules frowned and tried to walk round his partner, he didn't want to get into this, he really didn't want to get into this. But Iolaus was not going to let him get away so easily; he ran circles around the demigod and gleefully teased him.

"Twenty feet tall."

"It was twelve." grumbled an unhappy Hercules.

"Hair cascading over his shoulders in waves of honey gold."

Hercules glared at his nimble companion and stomped onward.

"A lion-skin over his shoulders, a club in his hand, and - what else? Oh yeah, a beard!"

Hercules mumbled something under his breath.

"Alcmene wouldn't like you saying things like that Herc." Iolaus laughed so hard at the memory of the statue they had come across in the previous town that he had to stop walking, leaning over and resting his hands on his thighs. Eventually he recovered and discovered that he was alone.

"Herc! Hey! Wait up! What about those muscles?"

Giggling and out of breath Iolaus finally caught up with his friend. "You've got to look at the funny side Herc. They meant well, the sculptor only had other people's stories to go on." Iolaus arranged his face into a serious expression, "He did very well, don't you think?"

Unable to hold the expression Iolaus burst into another fit of the giggles, and Hercules couldn't resist any longer, he smiled.

Iolaus pointed at his face, "See! You do think it's funny. Thank the gods for that, I was beginning to think you were an impostor, a fake Herc that one of the gods had planted with me in one of their cunningly stupid plans."

Hercules had to laugh, "Cunningly stupid? Sounds like Ares to me. So, what do you reckon Iolaus ... what would a statue of you be like then?" Hercules clapped his hand on Iolaus' shoulder and started to describe in detail the statue that should stand alongside his.

"Hmmm, it should be about three feet tall, with a golden bow and arrow, lots and lots of unruly blond curls all over its head, and…"

"More like thirty feet high, with a handsome profile and..."

Both men spoke in unison, "Muscles!"

King Pellius watched his Queen with an appraising eye as she leaned over her embroidery work. They had been married for nearly five years and still she had not provided him with an heir. She was barren, not even a daughter in all this time, not even a pregnancy. At least his first wife had managed that much, she had borne three babies, two had died in infancy, the third - a daughter - was a difficult hotheaded teenager. She had been banished from court until she could behave, her maternal grandmother caring for her.

'Knocking a bit of sense into that airy head I hope.' King Pellius muttered under his breath and returned to his more immediate concern. He needed a son; he needed to strengthen his position soon if he was to make any inroads on the neighbouring provinces. He didn't want to always have to be looking over his shoulder afraid of a plot to take over his throne. Pellius had been King of this little land for nearly twenty years and he was tired of its insignificance, tired of being the butt of jokes throughout Greece. He wanted to be remembered for his fire and greatness, not for the modest size of his kingdom.

Tallin had made some sense with the suggestion he had made the previous day; it was well worth thinking about. She wasn't anything special anyway, just related to the right people; not so bad to look at if you liked her kind of austere beauty, but she wasn't any fun. Pellius was tired of looking at her, Queen Elissa the boring second wife. Why had Jocinda had to die? She had at least made the effort to pretend she was happy, this one suffered in stoical silence - it drove him mad and she knew it. He supposed that it was her way of getting revenge for being forced into the marriage in the first place.

Yes, Tallin's plan was looking very attractive, they'd be sure to remember him if it came off. Oh yes, they would all remember him. King Pellius, the man who had destroyed Hercules and become King of half of Greece, and the man to whom so many gods would be grateful. Pellius snorted a laugh and eased his considerable bulk out of his throne, he would talk to Tallin straightaway he must congratulate his Advisor on such a show of brilliance.

Elissa sighed, her husband's presence in the room was always trying, but it was worse when he was planning something. He was definitely planning something; he only ever talked to himself whilst scheming. She wondered if he was working out a way to get rid of her. There would be no children, she had suffered the marriage only because there was no choice, and she would not bear his children. Elissa's grandmother was a healer of seemingly magical abilities; Elissa had always enjoyed spending time with Garcie and so was well able to ensure her continuing lack of motherhood. However, there was a price to pay for her pride and stubbornness, and that price may well be her life.

That was no real hardship; she had left her life behind her when she had come to live in the cold, draughty palace. All she did now was survive each day, and if she could be a thorn in her husband's side all the better. She was beginning to worry though, the advisor Tallin was a little too intelligent and a little too unpleasant for her comfort. The Queen had a feeling that whatever he was planning with her husband it was big.

Iolaus jumped into the air, grabbing at the parchment Hercules held in his hand. "Lemme see, lemme see!" Hercules grinned and held the message above his head, well out of reach of his partner. Iolaus stopped jumping and in his frustration started pacing around the demigod. "Come on Herc. You can't do this to me. Does it really have my name on it?"

Hercules continued to grin and read from the invitation held high above his head, "King Pellius and his Queen, Elissa do cordially invite..."

"What's cordilly?" Iolaus questioned impatiently.

Hercules was never sure if Iolaus was being purposefully obtuse or whether he really didn't know, he decided to ignore the question. " ... do cordially invite Hercules and Iolaus to a gathering at their palace in the kingdom of Meassia on the second full moon after the summer solstice - that's only three days away - in celebration of peace being held in the kingdom for ten years."

Iolaus grabbed at the invitation again, "Lemme see! It really says my name too? Have they spelt it right?"

Hercules laughed and finally gave in, it was always nice to see other people acknowledging Iolaus' part in their partnership, too often the smaller man was overlooked by the grateful crowd in favour of the son of Zeus. Hercules regretted that, although he'd never tell Iolaus, if he did he would never hear the end of it. The demigod watched happily as Iolaus read the invitation over and over again, muttering in disbelief that he had been accorded equal standing to his friend.

"About time too!" he finally said giving Hercules the scroll back. Standing away from the demigod and putting his hands on his hips Iolaus squinted up at his friend, "So, what's the catch?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Hercules pretended not to understand, but Iolaus swept his pretence away with a dismissive wave of the hand and crossed his arms in front of him meaningfully.

"Okay, Okay," Hercules conceded the point, "but it does seem a bit strange doesn't it? I mean I don't know King Pellius at all. We've never even visited his kingdom, and now all of a sudden he's inviting us to this big party. Why?"

"Does he have to have a reason?"

"Yes."

"Well okay, what about this. He knows what great party animals we are and wanting to make this the best party ever, invites us." Iolaus barely looked at the doubting expression on Hercules' face before continuing, " Nah, that's no good. If that were the case, he'd only have invited me. So ... maybe he wants to impress everyone with who he knows. You know the thing, 'Hey! Look at me everyone, I'm friends with Hercules.'"

The demigod grinned as he watched Iolaus strutting around pretending to be the pompous king.

"I've got a feeling, Iolaus..." he finally managed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Something's wrong and 'we' are the ones to sort it out. Save the day. Beat off the bad guys. Fight the good fight. Win against all odds..."

Hercules rolled his eyes, "Find out what Pellius is up to and stop him."

"And this involves danger?"

Hercules nodded.

"Probably."

"The odds will be stacked against us?"

Hercules nodded again.

"We'll be fighting for what's right?"

"We usually do."

"Helping those who can't help themselves?"

"Yup."

"Okay. I just wanted us to be clear. We're not gonna miss the party are we?"

Hercules attempted to cuff Iolaus round the head but wasn't surprised when he missed. He smiled as he watched the smaller man dance away down the road, he was a demigod but he didn't have the energy Iolaus always seemed to exude, that was something else that he loved about Iolaus and would probably never tell him.

Tallin took a deep breath, trying to rein in his growing ire. The Executioner was very good at his job, but sometimes it could be infuriating trying to talk to him. He tried again,

"No, he will deserve his punishment. He plans a very cruel trick on the king. All I ask of you is to ready Thansis and yourself."

The Executioner frowned in concentration and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Tallin took his frustration out on a nearby post, knocking it out of the ground. He replied through clenched teeth, "I know that you're devoted to your job, Executioner. We just want to ensure everything goes smoothly. The king has every confidence that you will be prepared." Tallin used this remark as his cue to leave, and as he walked away he wondered how he could have found a man so stupid and yet so adept at his art.

The Executioner watched the thin man leave, he would do as he was told - he always had - but he wouldn't necessarily like it. Nobody could make him trust the king's advisor.

Iolaus was dazzled by the amazing sight that met his eyes, the huge hall was bedecked with flowers and vines, the walls lined with trestle tables groaning under the weight of the plants and flowers they carried. And amongst the plant-life were statues of the guests, even Iolaus had his own statue - top heavy and crudely made, but Iolaus all the same. He preened over the twelve-inch statue for a moment before he looked round at Hercules. His semi-divine partner was screwing up his face in disdain; the statue in front of him was muscle-bound and had an animalistic grimace on its face. The demigod's statue was also carrying a huge club in one hand and Hercules obviously disapproved.

"I like the lion-skin Herc. It makes you very ... heroic!" Iolaus giggled but Hercules just frowned even more.

"Come on Herc, you're not gonna sulk again are you? It is kinda funny. I mean look at you. Look at me! I'd scare my own mother if I really looked like that."

Hercules sighed and looked down at the two statues, the only difference between this one and the larger than life one they had seen not long before was that this Hercules was clean shaven. It bugged him that so many people saw these things and thought that they were true representations of the demigod. Statues of him always looked so angry, so fierce. He wasn't like that at all, and he hadn't worn his lion-skin since he'd used it to play with his children.

Just then a servant came up to the two men with a tray carrying two goblets of red wine. He bowed slightly and waited for them to take their glasses. Once they had he bowed again and disappeared into the crowd. Hercules looked into his glass and took an experimental sip. It didn't seem to have been watered much, but it did taste quite nice. Iolaus took a big gulp of the wine and Hercules laughed. His friend would never really appreciate the delicate flavours of a good wine. The demigod looked back down at his statue and sighed, he was going to be remembered throughout history as some he-man monster and there was nothing he could do about it.

Iolaus had gone back to preening over his own statue, and Hercules had to smile at that; it was only recognisable as Iolaus because he was wearing his tattered vest and the familiar talisman was hanging around his neck. There the similarity ended, the statue of Iolaus was holding a mace in his hands and his face was set in a snarl. The muscles on his upper body were so large and his legs so small that Hercules didn't think a real man would be able to stand if he were built like that. Taking a sideways glance at his friend Hercules laughed. Iolaus was trying to imitate the ugly snarl on his statue's face and he wasn't doing very well.

"You're nearly as tall as me Iolaus, and I believe you've got more muscles. It's an amazingly accurate likeness isn't it?"

Hercules couldn't keep a straight face, and Iolaus grinned up at him, more than a little bit relieved. He knew how much these statues upset Hercules.

Recovering his composure Hercules took a slow look around the room; almost every monarch and figure of importance in the whole of Greece was present. It felt like a recipe for disaster. How had Pellius and Tallin managed to talk them all into attendance?

It was a pity Iphicles hadn't been able to come; Hercules had received word that his brother had an invitation but wouldn't be attending as he was in the middle of some delicate discussions with one of his neighbours. Hercules noted that those two kingdoms seemed to be the only ones not in attendance.

"Okay Iolaus, time to find out what is going on here. Mingle, but try to remember that we're not here to have a good time, we're here to find out what Pellius is up to."

Iolaus gave Hercules a disgusted look, "We can do both you know Herc." and pushed through the crowds in the direction of the food that was being brought in to the hall by slaves. The huge golden platters were piled high with delicacies to tempt the palate. Iolaus licked his lips in anticipation. He wasn't alone, the guests crowded round the platters forgetting their manners in their haste to grab at the food.

Hercules stayed out of the fray, he sipped from his glass of watered wine and tried to find a quiet corner in which to watch the proceedings.

Iolaus had tasted the food, now he wanted to dance. The music was good, the musicians knew their art and the rhythm was digging its way into his soul, he wouldn't be able to resist for very much longer. Looking around him, Iolaus spotted a lone woman, she was very beautiful, in a distant, somewhat cold manner, but she swayed to the music - she was under its spell. He grinned and moved towards her, instinctively knowing that she would dance well.

Pellius was a little worried, he trusted Tallin but... well, how could this plan work? It seemed far too complicated. He watched the party as it swung into action, everyone was having a good time but...he still couldn't see how the plan would work.

Tallin noticed his king's frown and moved to his side, "Sire? What bothers you?"

"Your plan Tallin. I mean how can you be sure? How do you know that Iolaus will dance with my wife, how do you know that Hercules will disapprove? Why don't we just kill all the kings, poison them or something and be done with it."

Tallin allowed himself a chuckle, "It is tempting I'll admit, but then we'll still have Hercules and his friend to contend with. How many times in the past have they managed to defeat plans for war? Anyway our royal guests are expecting us to act against them, they are alert to that danger. The kings aren't important, Hercules and Iolaus are. Watch, King Pellius, watch and learn. Look - see how Iolaus feels the music, see how the Queen needs to dance. There. Look! See Hercules frown. He disapproves. He can see what Iolaus is going to do, he knows. There, he intervenes, he argues his point, and he gets angry. See?"

"Yes, but how?"

Tallin smiled, "We have a gift King Pellius, we must use the gift as it is given. Let's just say that I was told of their action and reaction. Let's just say that I knew what would happen."

"How?"

"Do you really need to ask?" Tallin looked upwards in a meaningful manner. Pellius, over-awed, stepped backwards, "You mean...? Who?"

Tallin just smiled and continued to watch the ongoing saga unfold in front of him.

Pellius, nervous and awed, averted his eyes, "Ares?"

Tallin still smiled, not speaking.

"Really? He's with us?"

Tallin continued to smile, allowing the king to come to his own conclusions. Ares may be the one who had given him enough knowledge of the two heroes for his plan to work, but it was always wise to keep the full picture to himself. Ares may benefit from the wars, and from Hercules' death, but Tallin would benefit from this too.

Iolaus groaned, he felt as if he'd been trampled by a herd of angry Gods of War. It must have been some party to make him feel this bad but he couldn't remember anything about the previous evening, except the wine. The wine had been very red. He groaned again and tried to sit up. The room spun alarmingly and he held on to the edge of his bed until the dizziness passed. "Some party." he muttered as he tried to get his bearings. The room was empty of furniture; the walls were rock and the bed ... well the bed seemed more like a bench. Iolaus felt a slight twist in his stomach and this time it wasn't because of the wine. Something was wrong here.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and looked down in confusion, he was wearing silky blue pants, the material was thin and hung in generous pleats which was gathered at his ankles by deeply embroidered cuffs, a flat gold cummerbund completing the picture. There was no sign of his clothes in the room. Iolaus stared down at his bare feet trying to remember what had happened, he got a fleeting impression of himself dancing with someone but he couldn't see whom it was.

What had been going on? Iolaus took a deep breath to try and clear his head and gasped in pain, his ribs were on fire. He felt as if ... uh oh ... yup ... busted ribs. What in Tartarus was going on? Iolaus gingerly tested the rest of his body and discovered various bumps and bruises but nothing that seemed too serious. What was really bothering him was the fog in his mind, why couldn't he remember what had happened?

Iolaus lay back down on the bed, hoping that it would help stop the room from spinning. He closed his eyes trying to picture the party again; this time he saw the regal face of Queen Elissa smile at him, he saw her raise her hand to take his as they stepped out onto the dance floor and then they were swept away by the music.

Chapter 2

Hercules shook his head, still dazed at the speed with which everything had come crashing down around him. He was a prisoner, and his incarceration had the full weight of the law behind it. He was accused of harming the Queen, his mind shied away from the next thought but he could not escape it. He was accused of two counts of grievous bodily harm to people resident within the palace walls. The Queen herself who still lay unconscious and - Iolaus.

His soul screamed at him to take action, do something, anything. How could he sit here doing nothing whilst Iolaus was laying injured somewhere? Hercules couldn't believe that he had been the one who had hurt Iolaus, or the Queen, but ... his mind was foggy. There had been a party, Hercules only remembered accepting one glass of the ruby coloured wine but he felt as if he'd finished a barrel of the stuff by himself. His aching brain was telling him that he must have been drugged, but it was also telling him that if he couldn't remember the previous evening how could he be sure that what they said wasn't true.

The cell he was in was small, the only furniture a low wooden pallet to sleep on. The floor was compacted earth and three of the walls had been carved out of solid rock, he must be underground. He sat on the pallet facing the fourth side of his prison, it consisted of iron bars reaching from floor to ceiling, and he knew that he could rip those bars out any time he wanted to. But he wouldn't do that; justice had to run its course. There would be a trial and the truth would come out then, it had to.

One of the guards came up to his cell and stood looking in at him, Hercules blearily looked up, his head still pounding, his vision blurred. There was only one thing on his mind as he spoke,

"How's Iolaus? Is he all right?"

"How sweet", the guard's voice dripped with sarcasm, "you want to know how your best buddy is - after beating him half to death last night." But the man relented after seeing the anguish on the demigod's face. "He'll be fine. A bit battered, but nothing a few days rest won't cure. He was lucky - no thanks to you!" The guard had been warned not to speak of the punishment Iolaus faced for his own crime.

His disgust with Hercules barely hidden, the guard unlocked the cell and gestured for the demigod to come with him. Hercules was surprised that they had only sent one man, but then decided that the King was bright enough to realise that if Hercules had wanted to cause trouble a few guards could not stop him.

He was taken to the King's private office. It was a large room with surprisingly little furniture or decoration. The rough stone walls were unadorned. The king sat behind his desk, a huge slab of oak resting on two crudely carved tree stumps. He gestured for Hercules to move forward and nodded to the guard who stationed himself just inside the door. As Hercules walked to the other side of the room he realised that there was another man there too. The King's first advisor, Tallin, was sitting in a deep chair to one side of the room, gazing into a roaring fire.

Hercules refused to speak until someone else did, and the silence dragged out. The king just sat and stared up at Hercules with a smug little smile on his face. The demigod recognized that this was not the face of a man who held any concern for the welfare of his wife, more the face of a man whose plans were all coming together nicely thank you very much.

After what seemed like hours Tallin rose from his chair and silently slipped in to place behind the king's right shoulder. It was obvious that he was familiar with this position and comfortable with it. The advisor reminded Hercules of a fox, he had a clean-shaven narrow face, with a long pointed nose and small brown eyes that never stopped darting around the room. He was a sly one and it would do well for Hercules to watch him carefully, but that may prove problematic as he was still having great difficulty concentrating.

After a few moments more, when the king was finally sure that Hercules was not going to break down and confess, he raised his pale blue eyes to Tallin in acknowledgement and Tallin spoke,

"Hercules. You have been accused of a very serious crime. Not only of an act of violence against another guest of his most royal majesty, but also of daring to cause injury to our beloved queen. We are here today to explain the charges to you, and as you are only a visitor, to explain our laws and punishments. If you have any questions at the end of this time we will try and accommodate you with answers."

'Pompous, unctuous, creep!' was what Hercules wanted to say and Iolaus probably would have found something even better. But he tried to focus himself on the words Tallin was saying in his soft, soothing voice. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate though, Hercules found his mind wandering. He was worried about Iolaus; his mind wouldn't rest until he could see for himself that the hunter was all right.

Determined shaking woke Iolaus. Hands were gripping his shoulders tightly and pulling him back and forth, "Gerroff! Herc? What's going on?" But when he finally roused himself Iolaus was silent. Several of the royal guards were in his room, one had his hands on Iolaus' shoulders and was shaking him roughly, and the others were standing silent and watching. Iolaus' stomach plummeted, he knew that this was not good ... not at all good.

"Hi guys, what can I do for you?"

His smile was full of bravado, but the guards weren't impressed, the man holding his shoulders sneered,

"Hah! You won't be so cheerful when they've got you outside, you little ragbag!"

Iolaus would normally have happily swiped the smirk right off of the guard's face but his head was pounding, and the room was giving lurching turns as he tried to focus. Whatever had happened the night before he was really paying for it now. "Leave me alone." he declared and tried to turn away from the men in his room, but they weren't interested in his need for sleep and he was pulled and pushed onto his feet. The Sergeant leered down at Iolaus' outfit, naked from the waist up - except for his talisman, and then there were those blue ... Iolaus shivered with embarrassment. It really wasn't much of an outfit for a warrior; he would just have to brazen it out. How in Tartarus did he get in to this mess?

"I suppose you're waiting for your big friend to rescue you. Well you'll have to wait a long time." The Sergeant leered at Iolaus again, "See he's the one that busted your ribs." He laughed at the shocked expression on Iolaus' face, "That's right. He went berserk. Of course if it had just been you he'd attacked the King would probably have pinned a medal on him, but it's the Queen you see..." the man was delighting in Iolaus' discomfort and wanted to string this out for as long as possible, "She's lying unconscious up in her rooms. They don't know if she'll live."

Iolaus voice was hollow and the Sergeant had to strain to hear him, "What'll happen to Hercules?"

"After you get yours he'll go on public trial. When he's found guilty he'll be executed." The Sergeant and his men laughed as if he'd told a fine joke when he made his last remark, "Of course with you either dead or close enough and him blaming himself, I don't suppose he'll escape will he? He'll just let us take his head!"

The guards pulled Iolaus' hands behind his back and fastened them together with manacles. He could feel the cold of the metal bite his wrists. He felt numb but wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of knowing just how painful this news was, "Aw now, you don't think I'm going to try and escape 'you' do you boys? And there I was thinking we were all getting along so well!"

The men were too stupid or too well trained to rise to the bait and they ignored Iolaus' taunts. Pushing him roughly they guided him outside into the bright sunlit afternoon. They had emerged from a side entrance of the palace and Iolaus found himself standing on a wooden platform in the main square.

Iolaus looked on in trepidation as the square filled with people, they were happily chattering away, some of them pointed at him as they talked and all of them were taking plenty of time to stare up at him. The warrior had never felt more naked in his life. He stage whispered to the guard next to him, "Good crowd isn't it? I suppose I'm the main event ... what exactly are they expecting of me? I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone."

The guard chuckled and gave Iolaus a sideways glance, "You won't disappoint them runt, you squeal don't you?" He laughed again and turned away from Iolaus, levelling his eyes front and staring blankly into the gathering crowd.

For the first time Iolaus noticed the wooden framework that had been built near the front of the platform. It was a simple frame with shackles fixed to the crossbar at just the right distance apart to hold a man's wrists. "And the stage is set." Iolaus whispered to himself, he hoped that Hercules was being held somewhere far away from this place, somewhere where he wouldn't be able to see - or hear - what was going to happen here.

The guards either side of him responded to a silent signal and pushed their captive forward. The crowd grew quiet as they watched the blond stumble into position under the wooden framework, his hands still manacled behind his back. They knew that the spectacle was about to begin. Retribution was at hand. They stared with open hatred at the man who had been so audacious, he would pay and they would cheer.

Tallin walked up the steps onto the platform to the cheers of the crowd; he smiled at Iolaus and turned to the hungry crowd raising an arm for quiet,

"People! We are here today to carry out the wishes of our sorely wronged King. In accordance with laws laid down in the time of Dessander the Third he has the right to vengeance on any man that dares to take his property, or bed his wife."

Some of the rowdier element in the crowd jeered at this comment, Iolaus just stared at Tallin, mouth agape in shock as he realised just what he was supposed to have done. 'The Queen? I didn't ... I mean I couldn't have ... could I?' That was the trouble he couldn't remember, all he could remember was dancing with her. But that dance floor had been a long way from any bedroom; he would never have been so stupid - would he? Iolaus tried to concentrate on Tallin's words as he continued his announcement.

"King Pellius wishes to show his friends and his subjects that he is not a weak man, he wishes all to know that he will not stand for disloyalty or dishonour within his kingdom. It was with a heavy heart that the King passed sentence on Iolaus, a man he thought to be a friend to his people.

"But Iolaus broke that trust held sacrosanct to all decent men and he will be made to pay for his deception in the old way." At this the crowd stirred, many of them had obviously not known what punishment awaited Iolaus, some turned away horrified, but more shouted and clapped in eager anticipation.

"Guards."

The guards moved smoothly, unlocking Iolaus' manacles and lifting him so that they could lock his wrists in place to the frame. The guard holding Iolaus off the ground let go and he felt the full weight of his body pull on his arms. His broken ribs protested and Iolaus gritted his teeth against the pain knowing that this was only the beginning. With difficulty he could touch the boards beneath him with his toes and take some of the weight, but he knew that even that would become a strain before long.

"Uh ... excuse me? But what exactly is the 'old way'?" The bright gleam of hunger in Tallin's eyes was worrying Iolaus. If he knew what was coming he could prepare himself, or so he thought.

Tallin nodded to Iolaus in acknowledgement, barely concealing his irritation at being interrupted. There were guests here who wouldn't know what punishment was intended and Tallin was annoyed at himself for forgetting them. "For those of you who are only visitors to our land I will explain the details of the punishment. Firstly, the offender will receive forty lashes from the Thansis; he will remain on the scaffold until the evening of the second day at which time he will receive a further twenty lashes. At sunset on the third day he will be branded for the adulterer that he is and set free. No one is to give him water or food; the guards are under orders to kill anyone who tries to help him. This man is an enemy of our Kingdom and he must pay as tradition dictates."

Iolaus felt his resolve weaken, three days hanging from these beams, three days without food or water and with a ruined and bloody back. Sixty lashes? He couldn't begin to imagine the pain, but he would endure - he had to. For Hercules' sake.

Tallin had finished speaking and from the edge of his vision Iolaus could see a large muscle-bound man stepping towards him. Turning his head to get a better look Iolaus saw the whip held in the man's hand. Its handle was made of intricately carved bone and the leather was long and thick. Iolaus smiled tightly, 'Iolaus, meet Thansis. Thansis this is Iolaus.' Looking closely at the whip that was so special it had been given a name Iolaus spied the deadly sharpness of one side of the leather lash; it looked like a knife's blade instead of a whip.

"Hey! Nice piece of craftsmanship there, I'd hate you to damage it on my tough old skin, what d'you say we just go discuss where you got it over a nice mug of ale?"

The smile Iolaus received in response was one of genuine pleasure, beatific but not beautiful. The teeth it revealed were blackened and rotting, Iolaus grinned back, "I just know we're gonna be friends."

The man nodded enthusiastically and laughed his mouth opening wide to show the stump where his tongue had once been. Iolaus turned to Tallin, "Hey! I can't make a new friend without knowing his name. How'm I supposed to get his attention?"

Tallin smiled a tight smile, he didn't like this insolence coming from his prisoner, they were normally quaking and pleading for mercy by now. "He has no name. But to us he is known as The Executioner."

"Oh, Okay, well I'll just call him Cutie then. Hey, Cutie, wha'cha doing?"

The Executioner had moved behind Iolaus and now stretched out one hand to touch his smooth back. He ran the palm of his hand up and down Iolaus' skin a couple of times before stepping back and preparing the whip for its work. It was as if he were a craftsman checking the raw material before beginning to carve.

Iolaus took a slow deep breath trying to calm himself and prepare for the first blow. He felt his senses open to the sights and sounds and scents around him; the crowd muttering in rapt anticipation, the brightly coloured clothes they were wearing, and the dazzling blue of the sky. He felt the soft caress of the warm breeze and could smell the many scents mixed within it. Baking bread in a nearby house, the heady perfumes worn by the overheated women watching him, the rancid smell coming from Cutie, the smell of stale sweat that you always get from a large crowd of people, and under it all the smell of fear. He recognised the smell, welcomed it, for it was his fear he could scent and once recognised it could be beaten.

He heard the sound of air parting and Tallin calling out, "One!" and then the leather split his back, and it felt like fire, and it felt like being torn into two, and this was only the beginning.

Hercules was back in his cell, his head was still spinning and full of cotton wool and he could hardly remember any of the things Tallin had told him. The demigod knew that this was not a good thing; he should be trying to get all the information he could. He wasn't being allowed visitors and it was obvious that he wasn't going to be allowed to see Iolaus, so he needed his wits about him - now more than ever before. But it was hopeless, his mind swam, reeling and twisting so that he couldn't grasp hold of any thought.

Gods! There were hundreds of witnesses to what had happened. Everyone had seen the argument with Iolaus. Hercules had been so pompous - as always. Iolaus had asked the Queen to dance he couldn't see a problem. Two people that liked to dance to the music that was filling their souls. He just couldn't see the possible repercussions, the questions, and the accusations. Iolaus could be so innocent sometimes!

And now Hercules was sitting here with the mother of all hangovers, unable to speak to Iolaus. Only being able to rely on the King's comments to comfort himself that he hadn't really 'hurt' Iolaus - or the Queen. He could hardly believe that he could have hurt her, but he'd been so angry with his friend. He shuddered as the angry words came back to him through the fog; "You have no self-control Iolaus! Can't you ever see the bigger picture?"

Iolaus had just laughed and shaken his head, turning away to take the Queen's hand and sweep her onto the dance floor. Hercules sighed in frustration; he felt his fear beating big wings in his chest. What if he really had hurt Iolaus? What if he really was guilty? He stood and began pacing the cell, every fibre of his being told him that Iolaus needed him Iolaus was in trouble. But his head was telling him that if Iolaus was in trouble he'd brought it on himself. That damn flirting way of his, no woman - not even a married one - seemed able to resist. 'Gods Iolaus, what have you gotten us into?'

Hercules sank back down onto the pallet that was his bed and sighed, Tallin had mentioned something about a trial; he would just have to wait until he got his time in court, and he would just have to hope that Iolaus was working on a defence for him.

"Fourteen!"

Cutie knew that he had to keep going until the boss said the word 'Forty'; his shoulder was beginning to feel a pull as he put all his considerable strength into his work. The nice man had smiled at him, nobody smiled at the Executioner; they yelled at him, they told him what to do, they never smiled or offered friendship. Cutie sighed; he looked at the cuts that were opening up on that smooth golden skin, it was sad. Sad to see all that beauty damaged. Cutie was ugly; he'd always known that. His skin was scarred and broken, his face frightened the children, but that didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate pretty things. He liked pretty things. Iolaus was pretty his skin was pretty. He had smiled and given Executioner a name, a name all his own. He'd never had a name before.

"Seventeen!"

He cringed as the scream ripped through his head, he didn't like it when they screamed - but they always screamed in the end, usually sooner rather than later, sometimes even before the first stroke of the lash. But usually there were only a few lashes this was more. He was tired now, he wished 'forty' would hurry up and come; he wanted to go home and sleep. It would have been nice if Iolaus could have come with him, Iolaus had smiled at him, Iolaus was nice.

"Twenty!"

Iolaus felt the wet warmth of his blood running down his back, he'd been right about that whip, the edge was breaking his skin all too easily. The hunter tried to keep his breathing slow and shallow, his ribs still burned every time he tried to take a deep breath. But he couldn't hold on much longer, he was drowning in the pain. All those people out there - watching - and his pride spoke to him, it didn't want them to see him scream. Iolaus could hear a voice whispering to him but there was no one there. He tried to look around him but the slicing agony that fell across his back made him bite back a scream.

'There's no need to hold back Iolaus, remember your lessons. Voice your pain, give it a release, channel it.' It was a familiar voice, one from a far place. Reminding him of just one of the strange Eastern techniques he had once learned.

Amongst all of the agony that was burning through his soul and tearing his world asunder, the voice kept talking to him, 'You have to survive Iolaus - for Hercules, for Elissa, for yourself -you have to keep going. Scream all you like Iolaus, you know it helps. Scream Iolaus, remember the lesson.'

Iolaus remembered his instructor screaming into his face and telling him never to be too proud to shout his pain, or voice his anger. 'Scream, Iolaus. Fight the pain, deny its hold on you.' So when the next fire rained down on his back the hunter screamed. It hurt his ribs, it made some of the guards' laugh derisively; he could hear the comment of one, "Squealing just like the runt he is." but he knew better. The next blow landed as Tallin carefully named it, "Eighteen!"

'Nearly half way, we're nearly half way.' Iolaus felt the muscles in his body losing control; he was shivering as he hung within the wooden frame, some of the tortured muscles in his back spasming painfully. The pain kept growing and he no longer cared that people were watching, all that filled his every thought was the deep red cloud of pain.

Within that cloud he saw the severe expression of the Queen - Elissa - her name was Elissa. He saw her frown and then her face lit up with a smile and suddenly she was an entirely different person. She had smiled at him, she had laughed and nodded when he'd asked her to dance - and he'd known then that he'd been right to do it. Hercules was wrong; sometimes it was worth the risk - if only for a smile. They swept away on the heavy beat of the music, surrounded by red. The thudding rhythm and the red, the blood red air. They danced to the music of his heartbeat, they swept through the ballroom of his pain, and he smiled as he screamed as he danced.

Chapter 3

King Pellius was very pleased, the crowd was large and seemed to be enjoying themselves; a cheer went up with every crack of the lash. He leaned back in his chair and appraised the naked back of his prisoner from his vantage point within the palace; it was running with blood and under the redness he could see deep gashes criss-crossing it. Smiling the King reached for another grape; Iolaus had stopped screaming now, all his energy given over to staying alive. Pellius had been surprised at how much he was enjoying this, after all he wasn't really after vengeance was he, he couldn't care one way or another what his wife did in her spare time. And he knew that in truth Iolaus was just a pawn in a larger game, a means to an end.

And it was the step closer to the king's goal that Iolaus represented that really made Pellius smile, Hercules was a sheep sitting in his little cell, willingly allowing their system of justice to prevail while his friend was being tortured in front of half the populace of Meassia. This time he would be destroyed and Pellius would be the one to do it. Popping yet another juicy grape into his mouth the King watched as the blood turned blue silk to red making the cloth cling to the back of Iolaus' legs. A touch of pure genius those silk barely-there pants; what man would not believe in Iolaus' guilt upon seeing those, what woman would not understand their come hither signal.

Queen Elissa's eyes remained closed as she lay in her bed nestled in the snow-white pillows. She was no longer unconscious she was listening. The palace healer was talking with someone, whispering instructions to bring more herbs. Elissa was the granddaughter of the greatest healer this kingdom had ever seen, she knew what these herbs were for, they were to keep her locked away in that nothing place that hovered between waking and sleeping. They would probably not kill her, unless they were administered over a long period of time and in large quantities but they would keep her successfully out of Pellius' way. What was her husband planning?

Carefully she tried to remember what she could of the previous evening. There had been a party. Her husband had gone to great lengths to ensure she was looking her best. He had chosen her outfit, consulted with the royal hairdresser; he had even complimented her on her clear skin. She had known then that he was planning something for that night, but she had been unable to act.

At the party she had played her usual part, she had been aloof and icily unresponsive to any advances of friendship or diplomacy. She had to be there, she did not have to be nice. But then the music had started to play, and it had reminded her of a time long ago, before her marriage, a time when she had loved to dance. There had been a man, small and blonde, a man that exuded confidence and rhythm with every step he took, a man that had asked a question with his eyes. A question she had no power to say no to, a question regarding music, and the music had already taken her soul. She had found herself smiling, returning his joy, and reaching for his hand.

The next thing she knew they were whirling around the dance floor as if possessed by demons, the power of the music all that mattered. She couldn't remember exactly how it had ended, or when. She did remember, however, finally leaving the ballroom and walking alone up to her apartments, sad that the music had left her, sad that her dance partner could not keep the momentum going. She remembered entering her bedchamber - and that was all. Everything that came after was darkness, until now.

Something kept her from opening her eyes, years of palace life had made her suspicious and she knew better than to trust the healer, Kouros. She heard a new whispered conversation begin, this time it was the guards and what she heard turned her blood to ice. They were speaking of her dance partner, the man with the joyful eyes; they were telling of his punishment for ... bedding her? How could ... but she didn't need to ask. Her husband had planned this with Tallin. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Tallin had planned this and her husband had been a willing accomplice. She heard the guards argue about how to get down to the square before the whipping was over, "There's twenty more to go and I don't want to miss the screaming part." one said to the other, his eagerness obvious in his voice.

Elissa shivered involuntarily; the poor man, he was innocent of any crime; all he had done was be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The poor, poor man. Iolaus, his name had been Iolaus. Elissa drifted away again, Iolaus taking her hand and pulling her back on to the dance floor, a thumping rhythm beating out the music, filling her soul. She looked into his smiling eyes and wished she could warn him, but she was helpless to the music.

Cutie almost missed the signal; his arm was so tired and painful, his eyes so sore from looking at all that pretty skin being flayed from Iolaus' back. His new friend had lost consciousness some time ago, finally giving in to the pain. But the screams still echoed in the Executioner's head, they still hurt the man wielding the Thansis in his huge hand.

"Forty!"

Tallin spoke the final number with regret; part of him was enjoying this 'event' too much to want it to end. But he also knew that Iolaus needed to survive this part of the punishment - it would be all the more painful for his friend to hear of his long suffering that dragged out over days.

He walked over to the Executioner just to make sure that the fool had recognised the signal. He need not have worried; the man was standing with the whip hanging from his fingers, his head down and his whole frame shaking with exhaustion.

Tallin hated having to get this close to the creature, he smelled so disgusting, but he managed to lean in close for a moment to tell the Executioner to get some rest. He would be needed again in just over two days; Tallin needed him to be recovered and able to play his part.

The crowd did not move away from the square for a long time, they stood and looked up at the man hanging from the wooden frame above them. They watched as his head hung down, hair covering his face. They saw the blood that was beginning to pool at his feet. Bets were laid that evening, how long would he last? Would he last until the second round of lashes? Would he survive them? Would he walk away after the branding? They spoke of that in hushed tones, awe in their voices, the thought of a branding so horrible that every mother in Meassia used it as a threat against her most troublesome child.

Nobody thought that the small man in the silk trousers would survive as far as the branding; nobody believed that they would be the first to witness a branding in Meassia for nearly sixty years. None of them knew Iolaus.

The royal visitors had not stayed for long, horrified by what they saw they had made their protests as forcefully as diplomacy would allow and had, in a single body, left the kingdom. One or two had been more vehement in their protest; they knew Hercules and Iolaus and could hardly bear to witness this horror. But, they too were diplomats and realised that King Pellius would more than likely be happy to oblige them with a war. Iolaus would still be hanging from that scaffold, Hercules would still be in his prison cell, and they would be at war instead of working to help their friends.

It was true that Pellius had harboured a hope that at least one of the monarchs would be so outraged they would declare war there and then, but Tallin had been a wise counsel and had known that would not happen. Of all the kings in Greece, the only one who may be willing to take that kind of gamble was not present. Wasn't it unfortunate for Iphicles that he was caught up in these irritating negotiations? No, the visitors would ride home with much to think about; and when they got news of Hercules' death - well, when the recently strengthened armies of Meassia descended on them who could they turn to for help then?

Tallin looked up at the still figure of Iolaus one last time before leaving the platform. As he left he spoke quietly to one of the guards, "Let no one near him. Only the king, the executioner, or I, are to be allowed access. If he hasn't regained consciousness by dark, wake him."

The guard scared of Tallin but not too bright, spoke up, "How do I do that sire?"

"Oh, for goodness sakes! Imbecile. I don't know, throw a bucket of water over him!" he smiled, "Yes, have a bucket of salt water handy. Throw it over his back at nightfall, we wouldn't want his wounds to fester now, would we?"

The guard didn't understand what Tallin meant, but he recognised an order that was not to be disobeyed. He quickly organised the bucket of salt water, and stood it to one side ready for nightfall.

It was beginning to get dark; Hercules rubbed the back of his neck, his head still aching, and looked through the bars into the cell opposite where there was a small window high up in the wall. The small patch of sky was turning a deeper blue. The demigod wished he knew where his friend was, he felt very alone without Iolaus' cheerful banter. It was difficult to know what to do without knowing what was happening outside of his prison cell, and he had no Iolaus to bounce ideas off of. Not that there was very much he could do at the moment anyway, he was accused of breaking the Meassian law and he had no way of proving the claims false, he didn't even know if they were false.

The large oak door leading into this section of the cells slammed open, Tallin came towards Hercules' cell a small smile on his face. Hercules wondered what was making the king's advisor so happy. The demigod stood by the bars arms loose by his sides, wanting nothing more than to reach through and grab Tallin's neck and squeeze, but Hercules knew better and took deep calming breaths. He smiled faintly as he realised that if Iolaus had been with him the demigod wouldn't have needed to calm himself his full concentration would have been taken up with holding the smaller man back.

Tallin stood by Hercules' cell for some time without speaking; when he did finally speak he looked straight into the demigod's blue eyes,

"How are you Hercules? I hope they have been treating you well?"

Hercules nodded reluctantly, he could not complain.

Tallin continued to speak, "Good. I want everything to be fair Hercules. I only want justice to be served. Is there anything you want to know? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Hercules had a lot of questions; unfortunately he didn't know how to ask the right ones.

"Why can't I have visitors?"

"It's a law here Hercules, no prisoner awaiting trial is allowed any visitor except those doing their official duty - such as myself. We had some trouble a few years ago, men died; the king didn't want to take the risk of it happening again. I'm sorry. I know it must be difficult for you to bear your time in our care without your friend's help."

Hercules didn't speak; he missed Iolaus so badly that he couldn't find any words.

"Iolaus wants to see you too, but it cannot be. I'm sorry."

The sympathetic tone that Tallin took was good enough to fool the demigod who was still feeling a little woozy and really wasn't thinking straight. Tallin's act was a good one but Hercules still felt as if there were something else he should be saying, something he should be asking, but he just couldn't seem to think clearly. Silently he wished that Iolaus was with him, Iolaus would be full of ideas. And often listening to Iolaus' incessant chatter was enough to spark an idea; at least his friend might have been able to cut through the fog in Hercules' mind.

"It's all right. You're just doing your job, I understand. Iolaus is all right isn't he?"

Tallin smiled as he thought of the little warrior strapped to the frame, bleeding and unconscious, "Yes, of course he's fine! Don't worry, we're taking good care of your friend."

Tallin had worried that the demigod would ask whether his friend would be punished for his trespasses, but Hercules seemed to have forgotten the reason he was behind bars. He just nodded and accepted the advisor's words.

Tallin made his excuses and grateful for the ease of his visit left the demigod to stew in his own fears. He wanted to pay his little victim a visit, make sure the salt-water had been used to full effect.

Cutie filled the sponge with water and gently squeezed it over the raw back of his friend. He cringed as Iolaus screamed in shock and agony, the executioner hadn't wanted this, he had only wanted to help. But even though helping seemed to be hurtful, he couldn't see any other way. He filled the sponge again and gently squeezed it dry over Iolaus' back. A part of him knew that this way was better for Iolaus than the huge shock that drenching him with the water would have caused. Somehow he knew that he had to take control. Iolaus moaned, the pain filling his body and his soul, and Cutie felt the pain without understanding.

Iolaus had been in another place, dancing with Elissa in the red ballroom again, but now he was back. Rudely returned to this reality. He tried to deal with the pain, but it kept growing, each touch of the salt-water pure agony. He could hear Cutie moan in sympathy and he felt such sadness. The man didn't understand, he couldn't say no to the masters that he only wanted to please. But Cutie felt Iolaus' pain, and he hated what he was being made to do. Iolaus knew this, he could feel it, and he could see it. He had an ally, he only hoped he could find a way to use him.

Cutie gently ran his fingers over the open wound that was Iolaus' back. Tears filled his eyes; he wanted to cry for this man - his friend. He knew that he shouldn't be feeling this way; he knew that he should be rejoicing, but he didn't feel like rejoicing, he felt like crying.

Iolaus' voice was pain filled and cracked, "Cutie? Cutie. I need to..." His eyes drifted out to the square, people still milled about, still watched with greedy eyes. The hunter groaned, "Cutie? Do you understand? I need to... answer nature."

Cutie looked up into the pale blue pain-filled eyes, no comprehension in his own brown eyes.

"I've been up here a long time my friend, I need to... relieve myself."

Cutie finally nodded his understanding, grinning with pride.

"Yes. But..." Iolaus attempted to shrug, and looked as helpless as he felt, "I don't want to... wet myself like a little kid. I'll need... can you help me?"

Cutie took his time to look out at the square, seeing all the people still watching Iolaus, making bets, laughing and joking. He shook his head unable to understand. This wasn't right; a man should be allowed his privacy. Cutie was a big man and he put himself between his new friend and the remaining crowd, blocking their view.

Iolaus found himself having to swallow his pride again, having to rely on the executioner for help, and that was difficult, so very difficult. Cutie was the one that had caused his pain, he was called the executioner but he had also become Iolaus' friend. He was a gentle man with no anger and no hatred in his soul. Cutie helped Iolaus do what he needed to do standing in such a way as to block the view and he was gentle in action and thought.

Iolaus felt tears sting his eyes; it took little now, so little to gain his heartfelt thanks. Cutie studied Iolaus' face closely and satisfied turned to leave. Iolaus felt an irrational fear as his new friend made to abandon him and he cried out, unable to stop himself.

"No, please don't go."

Cutie smiled up at the only friend he'd ever known; he would have told him that it was all right, he would have told him that he'd look after Iolaus - if only he could. Unable to do that much, the executioner gently touched Iolaus on the chest with his fingertips and smiled as if to say, 'It'll be all right. Everything's going to be all right.'

Iolaus thought of Hercules and knew that it wouldn't be all right, not until Herc was free, not until the demigod was safe.

Garcie had not been inside the palace walls for many years, the present king had stopped her from coming a long time ago. She wasn't even allowed to visit her granddaughter. She hadn't spoken to Elissa for five years now, since the wedding. All she'd been able to do was catch the odd glimpse of her at official functions. And all because she'd spoken her mind to a little boy who didn't know how to care for his pets.

The hound had taken too much abuse from its young master and had finally bitten back, literally. It had been a nasty bite, the king still bore a scar on his arm, but Garcie was a good healer and had taken care of the wound. She was not a woman who suffered fools gladly though, and had never been able to keep a rein on her temper. She spoke plainly and never called a cruel little boy anything but a cruel little boy. The boy had never forgotten and once he had become king all those years later, Pellius' first act had been to hire a new healer for the palace.

It had been easy to take up a new life as a healer in the town, her reputation as a good healer was undiminished by her leaving the palace; and over the years it had grown, until now she was considered to be almost divine in her abilities to cure. It was only a good knowledge of plants and a gentle bedside manner sprinkled with a healthy dose of common sense, but the air of mystery that seemed to surround her pleased her customers. Those that could always paid well for her services so the old healer had never tried to persuade the townsfolk of the truth.

Garcie brought herself back to the present as she climbed the narrow staircase to Elissa's rooms. Nobody would dare refuse her entry, just as the guards on the front gate had allowed her in after receiving the sharp end of her tongue so would these sorry excuses for men. She half wished she'd tried this before, but of course before the king hadn't been preoccupied with his plan for ruling the world.

The guards outside the door were reluctant to allow the old woman past but bowed their heads in shame as she gave them a piece of her mind and entered the room. Allowing herself a brief chuckle at their shuffling feet Garcie went to the bedside of her only granddaughter.

Her long dark hair was spread out on the pillow and her skin pale. Elissa had lost weight since her marriage, and there were lines on her brow that hadn't been there before. Garcie quietly cursed the king who had first decreed that it was acceptable for the monarch to choose his bride no matter what her opinion and she cursed Pellius for choosing her kin. Nothing much passed Garcie's quick eye and she spotted the small smile on Elissa's face. Checking that they were indeed alone in the room Garcie quietly spoke,

"Elissa my dear, it's all right, we're alone. I think they're too scared of me to want to be in the same room. How are you?"

Elissa's dark eyes opened and she smiled faintly; "It's good to see you grandmother. I've missed you so much."

Garcie squeezed the hand she was holding, and spoke roughly, "We'll have none of that young lady. Now, tell me how you feel, and what happened. You'd better make it quick in case that fool Kouros comes."

Elissa's voice was weak; she still felt the effects of the drugs that she had been fed even though she had avoided as many of the doses as she could. When she had finished her eyes closed, the strain obvious on her face, "What about Iolaus, grandmother? He's a good man; he was so sweet to me. Is it really bad?"

Garcie hadn't been in the square to witness the barbaric punishment but she had passed through on her way to visit the Queen, "Yes my dear, I can't lie to you. It's very bad. There are still people out there, drinking and making bets. They're turning the whole thing into a festival! I'm sorry Elissa, you say he's a good man and I'm sure you're right, but I don't think that he can survive this."

Elissa turned her head away; embarrassed by the tears she felt stinging her eyes. He was going through Tartarus and it was because of her. If only she didn't love dancing so much, if only ... but Tallin would have found another way, he was too clever by half.

"Tallin's plan... why didn't they just kill me and blame Hercules? Why are they keeping me alive?"

"I don't know my sweet, but whatever the reason I'm grateful. Perhaps the king has grown fond of you over the years."

Both women laughed at the thought of the overweight monarch actually caring for his wife.

"We have to do something!" Elissa's dark eyes bored into the faded brown eyes of the healer.

"I know, of course we do. Perhaps I could get to Hercules. I'm sure he can't know of his friend's fate or he'd have broken out of the cells before now."

"Be careful! Please be careful."

"You too dear Elissa. It's time for a change around here, and it seems that we will have to be the ones who start it. Take care, and try to avoid any more of Kouros' 'medicine'!"

King Selsius was thoughtful as he listened to the others argue. After leaving the city, the visitors to Meassia had decided to travel together to the border, they were nervous and felt comfort in numbers. King Pellius was obviously planning something, and as he had always boasted about expansion, the most likely idea seemed to be an invasion of one or more of his neighbours. Times were hard enough for most of them at the moment, what with the poor crops this year and the barbarian raiders that had been plaguing the area in the last few months.

Selsius cleared his throat and the bickering kings quieted, he was the most senior in age and in standing amongst them, but it was the strength of his voice that commanded silence.

"This is pointless. We all agree that Pellius is up to something, we all agree that it's a terrible thing that is being done to Iolaus - at least most of us do." Selsius looked pointedly at two young princes who lowered their heads in discomfort. They had been jealous of the attention the Queen had given Iolaus and were heartless enough to think that he deserved the torture.

"However, Pellius and that sly man of his hold all the cards. Hercules and Iolaus have been arrested for serious crimes committed within Meassia. There is no evidence to support their innocence and plenty of evidence to support their guilt. Whatever we think of the laws in Meassia, some of our own are even crueller, the bottom line is: the law is the law. Are we willing to go back there with our armies and break the laws of Meassia? Are we willing to wage war? For Iolaus? For Hercules?"

There was an uncomfortable silence, no one present wanted Pellius to get away with this, but they couldn't afford to start a war either, and as the bickering had already shown they weren't capable of creating an alliance with which to overcome Pellius. Selsius hadn't finished speaking,

"You all know that none of us will fight together, we are able to live peacefully side by side, but that is mostly because of Hercules and everything he has done to help us in the past. Which one of you would be willing to let me lead your armies into battle? Because I would never allow any of you to command my men!"

Angry voices were raised and again the bickering started, only this time it was louder. Gathered here were leaders of men, but none of them were great enough to be able to allow somebody else to lead for them, none of them could agree on the most basic point. They couldn't even all agree that Hercules and Iolaus were innocent. There would be no help from these men.

Chapter 4

Iolaus felt a fire in his back, he was dimly aware of people laughing and singing - singing? Gods, they were having a party at his expense. Drinking ale and dancing, dancing! at his... what...? Death...? Possibly. If a miracle didn't happen this would be how Iolaus died. He didn't like the prospect. He particularly hated the idea of an audience that applauded his pain. Sighing, the hunter thought of Hercules, did he know? Was he all right? What would happen to the demigod after all of this was over?

His back was on fire and he had to swallow the urge to scream his frustration - he knew that he didn't have enough energy left. But it was so tempting; the pain was so huge, so overwhelming. What was it that his eastern tutor had told him? 'Use pain, don't let it use you. Take yourself away from its centre - into another world. Feel the pain as a different place, take its rhythm and use it.' He'd never completely understood those words - until now. Now the pain had taken on a red life of its own, now he was dancing within its cruel world, dancing for his very existence.

The people still watching only saw his discomfort; they were unaware of the struggle that was underway within the warrior heart. All their greedy minds could see was a man hanging helpless from the scaffold, hurt, bleeding, fading. They could not see the powerful battle against the encroaching pain. He danced on a ballroom floor with a Queen that he didn't know; he danced for his sanity, he danced for his life.

Tallin climbed the wooden staircase to the platform, noting with approval the empty bucket that stood abandoned beside the wooden framework. He smiled as he looked the broken warrior up and down; taking in the raw and bloody back, noting the dark pool beneath Iolaus' feet, and seeing how his eyes were full of defiance at the same time as they hid their pain. He could afford to smile; everything was going exactly to plan. It wasn't his plan of course - there was no way he could have predicted Iolaus' or Hercules' actions, but it was a good plan and he'd been happy to accept the gift. He knew there was a price, but the price was more of a prize than anything, gaining new kingdoms through battle, esteem through war. What was so bad about that? Ares was now their supporter; it was always good to have a god on your side.

He stood silently by Iolaus' side, watching him. He saw the laboured breathing, he understood the silent agony, and he rejoiced - it was exactly as Ares had told him. All would be well. The little warrior slowly became aware of his adversary as he watched; Iolaus groaned and raised his head, even that small action a supreme effort for him now. His eyes met those of Tallin, they didn't falter and that bothered the king's advisor. He wasn't used to seeing such spirit.

Tallin wanted to tease the blond, but his words dried in his mouth. How could this man be so resilient? His back was a ruined mess, he'd been drenched in salt water, and he'd been hanging from these beams for hours already - yet he was still conscious, still rejecting the superior strength of his captors. It bothered Tallin, somewhere inside he felt the squirming of discomfort - there was something about this man and his companion, the stoical Hercules. Something he couldn't understand. Tallin turned on his heel and abruptly abandoned the platform; he would gain nothing here.

Iolaus allowed himself a tired smile, this round went to him, but it was hard fought and hard won and he knew that he had little left in reserve. He wondered where his new friend Cutie was; Cutie made him feel better somehow, calmer, safer, and stronger. Cutie would be able to help; Cutie could soothe the angry pain. Iolaus drifted away from reality again, his mind taking him back to the dance floor and the thumping beat and the soft hand of his dance companion - Elissa, the beautiful Elissa.

They swept across the floor, consumed by the music. Nothing else mattering, they could feel nothing but the deep resonant beat, hear nothing but the rhythm, see nothing but the red of the ballroom. They were part of the music, intertwined in its power. For a brief frantic moment Iolaus wondered what would happen if the music stopped, but then it's deep rhythmic beat continued and he allowed himself to be carried away.

He tossed and turned on the narrow pallet, it afforded him no comfort and he could not sleep. Hercules sat up suddenly and in frustration threw the tangled blanket across the cell. Every time he closed his eyes he could see Iolaus dancing with the Queen, swinging her around the floor with his eyes lit up and laughing. Hercules wanted to cry, to laugh, and to hit his partner all at the same time. He wanted to shake some sense into him.

'Don't dance with her Iolaus!' he wanted to scream, 'She's not worth it!'

But he didn't, he knew the futility of it. He knew that it was only a dream and that the fateful dance had already happened. What if Iolaus had really kept hold of Queen Elissa's hand when the music was over, what if they really had gone to her chambers? What if...? But Hercules didn't want to venture into such dangerous territory, he wasn't sure he could cope with what he'd find there.

The demigod who always joked that he was never wrong was scared - scared that this time he had been wrong. Scared that Iolaus was guilty of nothing more than a single dance with a needy woman, scared that he had jumped to the obvious but wrong conclusion. Hercules was scared that he had hurt his partner for no reason other than his own self-righteousness. He didn't contemplate any other possibility; he couldn't imagine that this was all a clever deception. He still hadn't considered that if Iolaus had supposedly been found in bed with the Queen that there would be punishment for the adulterous other man.

For once Hercules didn't consider all the options. It was as if his mind had been thrown into a maze and try as he might he couldn't find his way to the centre, or maybe he was so close to the thought that he couldn't see it. If he had been looking in from the outside he could have seen instantly exactly what Tallin and the King were up to and he would have known that Iolaus was in grave danger, but for some reason he was blind to the obvious and his lack of sight would cost Iolaus dearly.

Hercules didn't sleep again that night, but he didn't understand what was causing his restlessness.

The first signs of dawn crept silently into the square. Iolaus had spent most of the night in his semi-conscious world of pain, dancing through the red with his royal partner. Somewhere in the distance the first bird roused itself and sang of the coming day. Iolaus heard and lifted his head painfully. He'd survived the night, it was a new day, and with a new day always came new hope. The hunter felt his heart lift, something had to happen today, something good.

Cutie tip-toed past the few remaining townsfolk who had decided it was too late to go home and had simply curled up on the ground and slept. He wanted to help his new friend and he knew that Iolaus would be thirsty by now, thirsty and in pain. Carefully holding the water-skin to his chest, he hoped that the water he brought would help sustain Iolaus through the heat of the day. Even this early the executioner could tell it was going to be a hot day and Iolaus would have no shelter from the sun.

There were two guards on duty at this late hour, one sat on the steps of the platform and snored softly. The other leaned on his staff his eyes heavy with sleep, he barely acknowledged the executioner as he passed by. The guard hadn't expected such a late shift and hadn't been prepared. Tallin would have been furious had he known. Cutie just knew that Iolaus would need the water; for him this was a frightening prospect, he was going against a direct order made by Tallin. He'd never done that before, he'd never even contemplated disobeying his benefactors before. But Iolaus was different, Iolaus was his friend; and friends were important.

Iolaus smiled when he saw Cutie, but his voice was rough when he spoke, "Good morning Cutie. Nice day isn't it."

Cutie didn't really understand the way Iolaus made everything into a joke but he grinned in response to the tone of voice and held up the water-skin with a question in his eyes.

"Ah, the finest Corinthian wine, straight from the cellars of Iphicles."

The irony was lost on poor Cutie who just frowned in confusion.

"Sorry Cutie, you'll have to excuse my feeble attempts at humour. I'm not at my best this morning. I'd love some water, thank you for bringing it."

Cutie understood that and smiled, a little bashful, he wasn't used to gratitude. Careful not to hurt Iolaus any further he put the lip of the water-skin to the hunter's own dry lips and helped him to sip at the cool clear water. He knew instinctively not to allow Iolaus to drink too quickly and he kept pulling the skin away so that his friend didn't gulp it all down at once.

Iolaus hadn't realised just how thirsty he was until the water was cutting its way through the hot tackiness in his mouth. It felt so good. The hunter had noticed the early signs of a hot day and he knew that he'd need this water if he were to survive. 'A new day and a new hope,' he thought to himself, 'I guess Cutie is that hope.'

When he'd finished Iolaus gave Cutie one of his best grins, "Thank you Cutie. I owe you. Do you see the guards?"

The big man nodded, "Good. Are they still sleeping?" he nodded again.

"Can you free me Cutie? Can you try to get me out of these shackles?"

Cutie stepped back in alarm and shook his head vigorously. Fearfully he looked all about him as if he believed Tallin would be watching. Iolaus sighed, he had known that this would be difficult, "Please Cutie. I need you, please help me."

The other man stubbornly continued to shake his lowered head. "Look at me Cutie, look up at me. I can't survive this. You don't want me to die do you?"

Cutie shook his head and a small whimper escaped his lips. Iolaus hated being so cruel but he was desperate, Hercules needed him. "I'm going to die if I stay up here, you're going to be made to give me more lashes tomorrow and then I'll be branded, and then I'll be dead. I need to survive, if I don't survive, something terrible might happen to Hercules and the world can't afford to lose him. Please Cutie, it's the right thing to do."

Cutie had returned his gaze to the floor and he started shaking his head again. No!

Iolaus tried all his wiles but it was no use, Cutie couldn't go against his masters, it wasn't in him to disobey them so flagrantly. So, instead Iolaus asked, "Do you know where Hercules is?"

Cutie shook his head. He knew who Hercules was, he was the big man that Iolaus had arrived in Meassia with, but he didn't know where he was being kept.

"He's my friend Cutie, like you are. I'm worried about him. Can you try and find him, see if he's all right?" Iolaus didn't really hold out much hope that Cutie would be able to do much for him, he couldn't speak so even if he could get to Hercules he wouldn't be able to tell him anything. But perhaps he could at least set Iolaus' mind at rest.

Cutie nodded, a serious expression on his face. Friends were important - he knew that now. Hercules was important to Iolaus; Iolaus was the executioner's friend, which meant that Hercules was important to Cutie. He would try to find out where the big man was.

Iolaus relaxed, seeing what Cutie was thinking in the openness of his expression. The pain wasn't so bad now; the water had quenched his thirst for the moment, for now he felt strong enough to see this day out. "One moment at a time." he whispered to himself as he watched Cutie leave.

The first thing Pellius did on rising was to look out of his window; he wanted to see Iolaus, to be sure that the plan really was coming to fruition. He smiled as he saw the wooden frame that held the hunter. All was well, Iolaus was paying for his indiscretions, and Hercules was paying for his attack on sweet Elissa. The army was stronger than ever before. Soon it would be time to make his move - soon, but not yet. First he wanted to watch Iolaus as he squirmed before the brand, he wanted to hear his scream, smell his burning flesh, see the mark burnt into that heroic chest. King Pellius smiled, today would be a good day, and the days that followed would be even better.

Tallin may think that he was the one in control, but it wasn't so. Let him believe it, let him think Pellius to be a good for nothing fool. Pellius didn't mind it made things simpler. That ridiculous line about Ares planning this whole thing. Stupid! Anyone could see that Pellius was the brains here; anyone could tell that Tallin was just a hanger on, picking up scraps as he was thrown them.

Pellius took another long look out of his window; he wanted to see the damage close up. He wanted to know that this man was really suffering for his actions. Pellius seemed to have forgotten that Iolaus was guilty of nothing more than dancing with the Queen, or perhaps in his royal eyes that was crime enough. Tallin would have to step carefully; his king was not as weak and stupid as he thought.

From her vantage point hidden deep in the shade of some nearby trees, Garcie saw the king as he left the safety of the palace to pay Iolaus a visit. She shook her head in disapproval as she watched him climb the wooden stairs unsteadily. As a healer she could have told him that he should take more exercise and spend less time eating. But he wouldn't have listened anyway. She winced as she saw the way the king touched Iolaus' wounded back, turned away in pain as she saw the agony on the blonde's face. Pellius had never got past the youthful stage of wanting to pull the wings from flies, and now Iolaus was his captive fly.

The first awareness Iolaus had of the king's presence was the feel of hot breath on his chest. He turned a disdainful eye to the king, "So, you're lowering yourself to pay me a visit. I'm honoured." his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Pellius smiled, the wounds on Iolaus' back were even better in close up. He couldn't resist reaching out a hand and running it sharply down the centre of the bloody mess. His victim let out a scream; it seemed to come from somewhere deep inside and Pellius found himself shivering. There was a strange kind of power in a man that could find a voice that strong after so much punishment. He stepped back unconsciously.

Iolaus took slow breaths to calm the pain; he'd noticed the king's involuntary movement and a small part of him triumphed. It was a victory, and any and all victories had to be noted and celebrated now. To win this war he needed to win every battle he could. This was one more.

Pellius was irritated by this turn of events he frowned up at Iolaus. The little man would have to pay for this... this... whatever it was. He'd done something, he'd won something, and Pellius would not stand for it. Looking up at Iolaus, appraising him, the king slowly began to smile. Iolaus may have won a small battle but Pellius could make him suffer for it. He called to one of the guards and ordered him to get more salt-water. Several buckets would do the trick, as an after thought he ordered that they make it as cold as possible. There was a natural spring that found its way to the surface within the depths of the palace, it was always cold - very cold. All the guards need do was add some salt from the kitchens.

It didn't take them long to bring several large pails of the freezing water. Pellius gloating but unwilling to give Iolaus any warning of his plan gave the order to throw the water over his hapless victim. The guards complied, they stood behind and before the hunter, and as one they threw the cold contents of their buckets over his body.

Iolaus screamed, which made things worse, it allowed the freezing cold salty water into his mouth, and he breathed it in. Coughing and choking he tried to take in a clear breath. Eventually he managed to calm his racing heart and send the panic away. He took several deep, steadying breaths, ribs be damned, and looked into Pellius' eyes.

"Thanks! I always like to take a cold shower in the morning."

Pellius was fuming. Iolaus should be begging for mercy by now. Saturated with cold water, salt water that would be agony to the exposed flesh on his back, and yet he was cracking jokes. Pellius turned on his heel and carefully made his way down the stairs. He would have stormed down if he could, but his bulk made navigating the stairs difficult and he didn't want to end up unceremoniously dumped on his backside.

If he'd bothered to look back as he left Pellius would have been well pleased with his efforts, but he was too angry and he retreated into the palace without a backward glance.

If he had looked he would have seen Iolaus begin to shiver as he hung from the wooden beam. He would have seen the agony and despair on the hunter's face and he would have rejoiced. Iolaus knew that the last thing he needed at the start of a long hot day was to be covered with salt, he had swallowed some too and that was even more serious. He'd get thirsty as the day progressed, the salt would turn his thirst from a discomfort to something far more dangerous.

From his vantage point Iolaus could see the citizens in the square beginning to wake, a few early risers who had chosen their own beds for the night were joining them. And all the eyes were looking up at him. He could see knowing and unfriendly leers on some of the faces; one or two women were staring hungry and open mouthed at him. It took him a few moments but slowly Iolaus realised why, and he felt his face begin to burn with embarrassment. The blue silk of his trousers was only just adequate coverage when it was dry. He'd already known that it was wet with blood and sticking to the back of his legs, now the water had meant that it clung to him everywhere. It was thin and clinging and more appropriate for a concubine than a warrior or a hunter. The crowd was certainly getting an eyeful this morning. He bitterly hoped that they were enjoying it.

Iolaus groaned, could things get any worse? He felt the first rays of the sun touch him and he knew that they could - a lot worse. The sun was already hot and it was still early. He managed to smile; at least it would dry the silk quickly.

Cutie watched from the rear of the crowd. Knowing that he could have freed Iolaus only made the sight more painful for him. He watched the crowd jeer and laugh at his friend's pain and he felt helpless to intercede. The chance had been in his hands, he had the opportunity to free Iolaus but he hadn't been able to take it. Instead he had walked away, knowing that only pain and a slow death awaited the only man that had ever befriended him.

He hung his head. He had let the little blond man down and he felt the shame. Iolaus had asked him for help and he had turned his back. Cutie now knew regret.

'I don't want you to be hurt Iolaus.' his thoughts were full of pain, 'I'm sorry Iolaus. I'm sorry!' Tears cleared paths on his dirty cheeks, the executioner didn't want to let Iolaus down but he was too scared of Tallin, too afraid to act outside of his orders. Bringing the water had been enough to petrify Cutie, but he had convinced himself that it was not a betrayal; he had been able to make himself believe that Tallin would approve.

But the thought of taking the whip to that bloodied and ruined back again was almost too much for the gentle man. How could he ever live with the knowledge that his hand had caused unrelenting agony on the only man he had ever been able to call friend? How could he live with the knowledge that his friend was going to die because of him?

Cutie didn't know what to do, so he did what Iolaus had asked him, he tried to find Hercules. If he could visit the friend of his friend then at least he could reassure Iolaus, let him know that Hercules was safe. It wasn't much but it was all that he had. Cutie shook his head as he watched one of the guards gleefully run his fingers down Iolaus' spine. Iolaus still had enough voice left to scream and it was that sound that stayed with Cutie as he left the square. How could he bring himself to hurt the only man that had ever shown him kindness?

Chapter 5

The bets were coming in thick and fast, most did not believe that the little blond man would survive the day, Jerius didn't believe it either so the odds he was offering weren't going to make anyone rich. One fool had offered him fifty dinars on Iolaus surviving the branding and walking from the platform, and who was he to deny the bet? But Jerius knew better, there was no way any man could walk away from that scaffold.

He took a moment from his business to look up at the platform. In the full gaze of the sun Iolaus' skin was already beginning to redden. It was close to noon and the little warrior would be getting thirsty by now, his need accented by the various stalls selling lemonade and thirst-quenching ale scattered around the square. The pull on Iolaus' arms and shoulders would be growing into an unrelenting agony, not to mention his back. Raw and flayed free of skin it would be an unbearable suffering. Jerius could not begin to imagine the pain.

He would not make a great deal of money here, but he would gain a lot by showing a fair face and making good his debts. People would remember that and lose their money another day.

Jerius watched as one of the guards relieved his boredom by poking the blond in the back, making him cry out with a dry, cracking voice. No - he wouldn't last much longer.

Iolaus felt the heat as it baked his body. A part of him relished the feeling, the sun's rays soaking into him, glistening his skin with sweat, but the logical part of his mind knew that he was losing precious water. His mouth was already dry and caked and he knew that his misery had only just begun; the hottest part of the day was still to come. His thoughts swam as he squinted at the crowd, which was not as big as on the previous day, but still substantial. He wondered again what kind of person would want to watch this punishment and find it entertaining, something to make a friendly bet on, something to raise a mug of ale to.

With a detachment that bothered him, Iolaus thought of Hercules, and pondered his fate. Iolaus knew that he could not survive this trial, he knew that Hercules would be found guilty of the trumped up charges. Would the demigod allow Pellius to execute him? Iolaus knew that he would. If Iolaus was dead and if Hercules knew to what extent his friend had been made to suffer, then he would either lash out or lose all his will to fight. Iolaus hoped that his friend would lash out. He hoped that Tallin would feel the full force of the demigod's semi-divine fist.

Tallin came back at noon to haunt his prisoner. Iolaus found the strength to put on the face of resistance but it was difficult, so difficult. It was worse when Tallin smiled at him with a secret smile and ran his hand in a pattern over Iolaus' chest. He let it rest briefly before it continued its path. Iolaus felt a shiver of disgust and wondered what sick fantasy was playing in the advisor's mind. Tallin just smiled and allowed his hand free rein. It was good to add fear to the mix; Iolaus was helpless, in pain, suffering an unbearable thirst, and unendurable discomfort - why not add a touch of confusion?

He let his hand run over his captive's chest again before whispering its purpose. His fingers were following the pattern of the brand, Iolaus was learning the extent of the pain he would be expected to endure. The fingers roamed over the hunter's chest, following their large circular pattern, letting Iolaus know that his pain was only just beginning. The brand would be huge, a circle with a diagonal cross through the centre, covering his whole chest and down onto his abdomen. Iolaus understood the message and felt a helplessness he had never experienced before. How could he survive? How could he live? Even for Hercules this may be too much to ask; his back was already a raw and open wound, and now he knew that his chest was to follow. He felt the pattern as Tallin's fingers tickled his sunburned chest and fear grew in his heart. Even the bravest of souls would balk at this; even Hercules himself would feel fear when faced with this trial. Iolaus began to despair. Tallin's hand stopped its journey over Iolaus' chest and remained there as he smiled up into the tortured face of his prisoner. This was far too much fun to let it end, Iolaus must be kept alive for as long as was feasible. The possibilities were endless.

But Iolaus had other ideas, his legs were free and he still had enough strength to show his disapproval. He kicked out with his right leg, catching Tallin high in the thigh, numbing the advisors' leg with the power of his kick. Iolaus inwardly rejoiced at the open shock in his adversary's eyes, he allowed himself to gloat at the pain etched in Tallin's face. Another battle hard fought, but won.

"Why does she still live?"

The king was impatient; he tapped a finger on the tabletop as he regarded the palace healer with contempt.

Kouros cleared his throat nervously; he had never seen Pellius so fired up, so focused on a goal. "I ... I ... she..." he stammered helplessly.

Pellius shook his head in irritation, "For Hera's sake man, control yourself. She is under your care, she lives - why?"

Kouros hated this, he was a healer, healers cured illnesses they did not keep otherwise healthy people in drugged oblivion, they did not pretend to their employer that their patient was seriously ill when in reality they were perfectly healthy. He was uncomfortable with his deception but he knew that he would be even more uncomfortable with her death on his conscience.

"I am sorry sire that I cannot tell you what you desire, your Queen is grievously ill, she lays unconscious as we speak and I seriously doubt that she will ever regain consciousness. But her life or death is not under my control that is in the hands of the gods. Only time will tell."

Pellius grunted his disapproval, it seemed that everything was conspiring against him. That man Iolaus was resisting him all the way and now his wife couldn't just lay down and die like a good little wife, she had to live and his pocket healer had to play the hero by attempting to protect her sorry life. He knocked his goblet of wine aside in anger, why could nothing go his way?

"Very well Kouros. Make yourself useful, go to my prisoner Iolaus and assess his condition. I wish to know if he will survive. I want to be sure that I can see him receiving the branding - awake and aware. Can you manage that?"

"Oh yes sire, of course sire, right away sire."

Kouros bowed his way out of the royal chambers, relieved to be away from his king, fearful of every breath he took. He knew that he must tell the king what he wished to hear he hoped that he could.

Garcie sat in the shade; she had been in the same position since the early morning, since witnessing Pellius' visit to the captive Iolaus. She watched the entrance to the cells carefully, knowing that she would likely only have one chance to see the demigod held within, knowing that her one chance could mean the difference between life and death for his friend, and for her granddaughter. She sighed as she watched the guard look around as he stuck his head out the door, knowing that she would not get past him.

There was an advantage to knowing so many of the men Pellius employed, to having been their midwife and healer through all their childhood illnesses; but she knew that time was limited and every minute she wasted sitting here watching was another minute closer to death for Iolaus. She felt so sorry for the poor man, a good man Elissa had said and Garcie was convinced. Elissa had always been a good judge of character and anyway Hercules was a very good man and he would hardly choose a bad one for a best friend. It didn't really matter what kind of man Iolaus was though, Garcie was a healer and seeing any man suffer so badly went against everything she stood for, his pain caused her pain and she had to act against it no matter the danger.

There wasn't much time left and the healer knew that she couldn't put off her attempt to see Hercules much longer. If she did Iolaus would die and nobody deserved to die like that. She watched closely knowing that the change of guard was soon due, hoping that the new guard was someone more willing to bend the rules than the man she was watching, someone she knew and could persuade to help her. Praying with all her being that she could help these men that had found themselves the helpless victims of Pellius' cruel whim.

Kouros looked up at Iolaus as he slowly walked round the prisoner assessing his injuries, attempting to assess the strength of character of a man barely conscious. Iolaus watched him through hooded eyes, the pain was still growing, his back was on fire, the skin on his chest and arms was beginning to feel the full force of the sun, pinking and starting to burn. His mouth was dry, too dry to find a voice with which to confront the healer so he just watched him, all the accusation he could muster in his look.

Kouros felt the power of that look, he felt the guilt implied and sighed, he should be caring for this man, easing his pain, instead he was assessing his ability to survive the rest of the day. Standing behind his patient Kouros ran an experienced eye over Iolaus' back. It was ruined, he did not know how the man could have survived so long, there was nothing but an open angry wound covering the small man's back. The Thansis had done its job well, there was no way that Iolaus could survive this injury, there was virtually no skin left on his back, and although there was no sign of infection the wound was so big that the shock of it alone should have killed him.

The healer did not miss the blood caked waistband or the tightly clinging blood encrusted folds of cloth on Iolaus' legs; he noticed the way the women in the crowd looked at the body hanging before them and he shivered as he understood that Iolaus felt their gaze too, felt it and understood. His stomach turned as he realised the kind of citizen that peopled his hometown. Men and women that rejoiced at another's agony and shame, just because they thought him guilty of loving someone he shouldn't. Guilty or not, Iolaus should not have to suffer this humiliation on top of everything else.

Carefully brushing hair out of Iolaus' eyes, Kouros felt his patient's temperature, high, but not feverish. He ran his expert eye down the body, noticing the difficulty breathing, the painful way Iolaus held his head, understanding that merely being held in one position on the scaffold for so long was tearing at Iolaus' muscles and putting extreme pressure on his joints. The pain of his back only a part of the problem, the sunburn only minor in comparison to all his other ills. Iolaus would not survive another twenty lashes; he would not survive another day up on that agonising frame. That would be his report; he hoped that it would bring some kind of reprieve to Iolaus, if only it meant an early release through death.

Chapter 6

Thirst, he'd never felt a thirst like this. It was all consuming, greater even than the pain of his back. At first he had been able to distract himself from the dryness in his throat, he'd been able to ignore the headache that was pounding behind his eyes, he'd pretended not to notice when his tongue started to swell in his mouth. At first ... but he couldn't keep denying the symptoms, and he couldn't keep avoiding the sight of cheerful townsfolk buying lemonade and ale and gulping it down, watching a man's torment on a hot day was obviously thirsty work.

Iolaus felt the fingers of madness clawing at him, it capered around always just out of view, snatching at tankards, showering itself in rainwater, and further tormenting the hunter. Iolaus watched as a young woman standing directly below him finished her drink and wiping a sleeve across her mouth gave a satisfied sigh. She smiled up at the hunter knowing his need, and laughed, turning her cup upside down so that the last few drops of liquid fell useless to the ground. Iolaus closed his hot eyes against the sight.

In the red behind his eyes he found no respite; his eyelids scratched, his face felt puffy and his lips were cracking. He was still coated in salt from his early shower and the little sweat he was producing added even more salt to intensify the pain of his wounds. He had managed to survive through to the hottest part of the day, it was mid-afternoon and the sun was unrelenting. Iolaus imagined being drenched in cool clear water, he could feel it on his skin, taste its metallic edge on his lips.

He saw the pool of water, calm and blue and shaded by large trees, its beach was empty, he could swim in complete privacy. Iolaus shrugged off his vest and pulled off his boots even as he continued towards the water. He was unfastening his belt as he reached the water's edge and felt its cool promise lap over his toes. Abandoning all of his clothes Iolaus walked into the water, a small moan of pleasure escaping his lips. He dived under the surface and looked around in awe at this sparkling new world. He was alone with the silvery fish that darted in and out of the weed, alone in this world of cool desire. He surfaced and allowed his mouth to suck in some of the silky water, which tasted wonderful. He floated on the water, allowing it to cool him, protect him, and nourish him. Nothing mattered any more; there was no pain here, no thirst, there was no shame or humiliating clothes to wear. He was safe here he would stay here.

The guard called out to Cutie with a rough cruelty, "Want him for your little play thing do you Executioner? You must like 'em small!"

Cutie snapped his hand away from Iolaus' waist and shook his head, uncertain of the guard's meaning but knowing that he was being humiliated again. Iolaus groaned and opened his reddened eyes looking at his friend in confusion. "What ... where ... oh gods!" It hurt to speak now and he tried in vain to produce enough saliva to swallow away some of the pain.

"Cutie? So cool - so nice. Can't I ... go back?"

Cutie only looked at Iolaus, guilt and sadness filling his eyes. Iolaus kept eye contact with Cutie for a long moment before trying to speak again.

"Herc?"

Cutie understood that question, and he nodded and then shook his head. He didn't know how to tell Iolaus that he'd found out where they were keeping the big man but he hadn't been able to get to see him yet. He wanted to tell Iolaus that he wouldn't let him down again, he wanted more than anything to take the smaller man's pain away from him. He reached out his hand again, letting his fingers gently brush Iolaus' shoulder. Iolaus shivered, he couldn't understand why he felt so much better every time Cutie touched him. He felt stronger suddenly, more himself. He smiled down at his friend, understanding enough of the message, understanding that he'd have to wait a bit longer for Hercules, knowing that he could.

He tried to say thank you but his voice was gone again, so instead he just smiled, even that a painful exercise now. Cutie smiled sadly back at him and turned away, it would soon be sunset and the guards would be changing shifts, he would try to see Hercules then.

Kouros shivered under the angry gaze of his king, but he did not back away. He had told the truth and if the king didn't like it there was nothing he could do. If he had said that Iolaus would survive and he didn't - well, Kouros didn't want to think about what that would mean for him.

Pellius was furious, even more so because a part of him had known all along that no man could withstand such torture, why else had no one been branded in over sixty years? And even then, the branding had not been preceded by Thansis' kiss. Damn it all, he'd just have to bring the branding forward; the little imp would not escape it. Pellius would have his branding! He would!

As a small boy Pellius had listened eagerly to the tales of tortures and punishments that had been meted out in ancient times. He was particularly disappointed that his father had thought the branding too unpleasant a punishment to ever use it. The small boy had fantasised about the day he would get the chance to witness a branding; it would happen now, and he would be the one to administer the brand. He waved Kouros away and called for Tallin, they must move quickly. First a few kisses from Thansis to wake Iolaus up and then Pellius would step forward and his dream would come true.

Garcie sighed in relief, the guard was finally changing and she knew one of the new men very well. She had brought him into the world nearly twenty-five years ago, she had nursed him through an especially nasty childhood fever, and she had helped his mother through a frightening and life threatening illness. He had never been able to thank her enough, and was always asking what else he could do for her; she had never been able to think of anything - until now.

Taking a deep breath Garcie made herself wait a few minutes more, let the men gossip for a while before the day shift went home, let the new guards settle themselves in for the their long overnight stint. She stood after forcing herself to wait ten minutes more, - it was time.

Cutie had been about to go to Hercules when the order came. 'Come at once to the platform and bring the Thansis.' His blood had run cold and he'd stood clutching the hated weapon in his hands unable to decide what to do. In the end he had done as he'd been asked, dread filling his heart.

Tallin was already there and the king himself was with him. The two men stood either side of Iolaus smiling down at the crowd. Tallin raised his voice to gain attention. "People! People! I have an important announcement to make."

The buzz of conversation died away as everyone turned to see what was going to happen now. "The king has decided to change the timetable slightly. We want to ensure that the prisoner receives his full punishment and after a report from the palace healer it has been agreed that the branding take place this afternoon."

Tallin listened to the excited chattering coming from the people below him and smiled, "In fifteen minutes time, the Thansis will be put to work again and the branding will take place immediately afterwards, administered by the king himself! Tell your friends, make sure everyone is in the square in time to witness this historic deliverance of justice."

Garcie smiled at Stentious, silently cursing his slow wit, he was obviously thinking about what she had said, deciding just how grateful to her he was for his mother's life. Unable to wait any longer the elderly healer straightened herself to her full height, stared straight into the guard's breastplate and spoke, "You are a disgrace to your mother's name Stentious, and I'm going to be sure and tell her. Denying an old woman her request, cruelly taking away from a condemned man the slight comfort I might be able to offer. I had thought more of you lad, I really had." She sighed to show her disappointment and then waited with baited breath to see if her ploy had worked.

It had, Stentious squirmed uncomfortably, what harm could Garcie do? He felt sorry for Hercules, stuck in that prison cell with no idea of what was happening to his friend. The guard thought that he would never admit this to another soul but he'd been in the square earlier, he'd seen Iolaus and heard the way the people were talking, and it had sickened him. Giving a curt nod he waved Garcie inside, praying that Tallin would never hear of this.

Garcie hurried along the corridor until she found Hercules standing quietly by the bars of his cell, watching her with curiosity. She sighed, how could she find the words to tell him about his friend?

Jerius could hardly hear himself think over the clamour. Everyone wanted to know if their bets were still good, some wanted to change them but he was going to have none of that. He hadn't been able to shout loud enough to make them listen so picking up his pitcher of lemonade he threw it into the faces of the closest people. They silenced in shock.

"Right, now will you just listen? All bets are good all bets still stand. The only exceptions are for those of you who bet he'd survive until tomorrow but not until the branding, if you give me your slips I'll alter the bet for you - but there are no refunds!"

Most people were satisfied with his decision but there were still some that he had to sweet talk. Jerius couldn't afford to come out of this smelling of anything but roses. He took a quick glance up at Iolaus and wondered just how much money he was going to lose. The little man had done well to survive as long as this after the way the guards had been treating him, but more Thansis kisses, and a branding, no, he'd be dead by nightfall.

Hercules stared in shock at the old woman, his hands gripping the bars between them, his heart pounding like a hammer in his head. Iolaus was being tortured? In front of the whole town? Iolaus was going to die? NO! The denial came first inside him, reverberating through his very soul and then aloud, a defiance to the gods, the king, anyone who might try to take Iolaus from him again. It would not be allowed.

Garcie stood back, a little afraid, she had never imagined that Hercules would react like this. He had such a gentle, kindly manner, but now, now he was like a man possessed by all the demons of Tartarus. She couldn't calm him, couldn't even make him hear her voice. The demigod was beyond reason, he was going to save his friend and woe betide anyone who tried to stand in his way. The bars crumbled under pressure from Hercules' hands and he ran down the corridor bellowing his rage.

The first guard to meet him, Stentious, did the sensible thing and fled and once outside he raised the alarm. The army barracks were right next-door and soon the whole place was swarming with men all ready to fight, all hungry to have a go at Hercules.

Garcie pushed herself as far back into the corner as she could, all these men, all this waste. Hercules wasn't pulling any punches here; she winced as she heard a man's skull crack against the wall. But there were a lot of men for him to fight through, she wasn't sure if he could do it. Even Hercules had limits - didn't he?

Iolaus knew his limits and he knew that he had already passed them. He was living on borrowed time, the only thing keeping him alive was the thought of Hercules being kept prisoner somewhere in the palace. But now as he watched the brazier being set up and the brand being rested in the flames to heat, Iolaus knew that even that would not be enough this time, nothing could save him now. He wasn't scared of death, he knew far too much about it to be worried; but he loved life, he loved his life and he wasn't ready to leave it - not for a long time. And so it was with regret and not fear that Iolaus watched the preparations. He saw Cutie holding Thansis and hanging his head in shame and the pain pierced his heart. How could anyone use a sweet soul like Cutie so cruelly?

"Cutie. Hey, look at me." Iolaus smiled as Cutie raised his head, tears were streaming down the executioner's face. "It's all right Cutie. Do what you have to it's all right. Just ... look after Hercules for me? He'll need someone to ... when I'm..." Talking was hard but he needed to say the words - Cutie needed to hear them, "Thank you Cutie, thank you my friend."

It was time.

Tallin gained the attention of the crowd and stood back as Cutie took up a position behind his friend. Still crying he raised his arm and allowed the whip to crack over Iolaus' back. Blood poured from the re-opened wound, and even though Cutie had held back the pain ripped through Iolaus' body pulling a hoarse scream from deep within.

Cutie whimpered as he raised his arm again, watching Tallin for the signal to stop. But Tallin wanted his money's worth and he wasn't going to stop it just yet, not while the blond was still conscious and feeling every moment of his agony.

Chapter 7

Hercules saw red, he threw men aside as if they were rag-dolls, he didn't care how many he killed to get out. His need to rescue Iolaus over-rode his usual care. For once Hercules didn't hold back, he didn't consider the consequences of his godly strength. These men weren't real to Hercules they were nothing more than an obstacle to him, and the quickest way around an obstacle was to go straight through. He couldn't let Iolaus down again, not again. The hunter had already suffered so much because of the demigod, already died because of him, and now he was being made to suffer because Hercules had been content to believe that justice could be served. Even when it was the laws of a king he did not trust.

Guards and soldiers lay broken and discarded in a path behind Hercules, those that still stood regrouped and made their way to the town square - knowing they would need a miracle to stop Hercules now. Once outside of the building the demigod stood for a moment trying to sense Iolaus, needing to know where his friend was. The sounds of a crowd cheering made Hercules turn in their direction, and he started to run as a single sound could be heard over the noise of the crowd, a sound caught somewhere between a scream and a sigh. Hercules recognised his friend's voice, and knew that he didn't have much time left; he picked up his pace as the sound choked off into silence. Hercules ran through the red cloud that still filled his mind, ran to Iolaus, ran to his friend.

Iolaus did not know how he could still be alive, or conscious. The pain was too huge for him to understand; he was getting dizzy now too, the faces in the crowd swimming and dancing in front of his tired sore eyes. Iolaus could feel the warm wetness clinging to his legs, dripping from his feet; he knew that his life's blood was soaking into the wooden boards beneath him. It would be over soon; he would not suffer for much longer.

Tallin halted Cutie's hand, he could tell that his prisoner was only just aware of his surroundings; it was time for the branding. He smiled at Pellius, "You're on sire. It's time."

Hercules reached the back of the crowd and began pushing his way through them. It was difficult going, the call from Tallin earlier had brought the whole town out of their homes. There were thousands of people crammed in together and simply pushing them out of the way wasn't going to work because there was nowhere for them to go. The redness filling his head receded slightly, his madness would not get him to his goal any faster. The demigod had to wriggle and cajole his way through the mass of people, all the time trying to catch a glimpse of what they were watching.

He managed to find a small gap and dived into it, stopping for a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings. Up ahead Hercules caught a glimpse of blond hair, hanging limp and sweat-soaked, it was incentive enough for another push forward. But it was slow work and the demigod had a terrible feeling that he would be too late.

Iolaus wasn't aware of the preparations for the branding until something poked him in his ribs; he'd all but forgotten his broken ribs. It seemed such a long time since he'd discovered the injury, but it was only a day and a half. The guards wanted his attention so Iolaus raised his head and looked directly into the eyes of the king. Pellius was standing before Iolaus but to one side so that the crowd still got a good view. The king had his back to the crowd and his hands were holding the long handle of the brand that still rested in the brazier to Iolaus' left, he was smiling.

Iolaus smiled back, the best-patented Iolaus smile he could muster, it was enough to give Pellius a moment of doubt but it was only a moment and he sneered at his captive, "You won't be smiling in a minute. You'll be branded for the creeping cheat that you are, branded so that all men will be reminded of the just punishment for this unspeakable act."

"The only unspeakable actor here is you." Iolaus' voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper but Pellius heard and he raised the brand from the fire in response.

Iolaus' eyes opened in surprise and fear as he looked beyond Pellius into the crowd, 'No.' He'd seen Hercules, locked eyes with him for a brief moment. Hercules mustn't see this, he mustn't. And that was Iolaus' last coherent thought.

Hercules was two-thirds of the way through the crowd when he looked up again, this time he could see Iolaus clearly. He could see the blood pooling at his friend's feet, the bruised body, and the cracked lips. The demigod looked on in horror as he saw Pellius gripping a long pole in his hands, he could feel a scream of pure pain begin to build in him as the brand was pulled from the flames, it's large circle glowing almost white-hot and casting off sparks.

It was then Iolaus noticed him and their eyes locked for a moment. It was a moment that felt like eternity to Hercules. He could not reach the platform in time to stop Pellius, he could not save his friend, all he could do was watch as Iolaus was branded.

The scream escaped him as the brand touched Iolaus' chest. It rose in unison with the weak, so weak, scream of his brother, which he felt rather than heard. Hercules could not take his horrified eyes away from the sight before him; Pellius was holding the branding iron hard against Iolaus' chest. Even at this distance Hercules could smell the burning flesh, he could see curls of smoke rising from behind the brand.

Pellius dropped the implement to the floor, guards quickly running to throw buckets of water over it. Some of the crowd were still cheering but many had suddenly discovered that this was too much for them. The naked expressions of pain on the faces of Iolaus and the executioner were pulling at their consciences. The smell of burning, living, human flesh was sickening them. People were turning away, wanting to be anywhere but here, wanting to have nothing further to do with this horror, wishing that they could wipe their memories clean.

Another scream had joined those of Hercules and Iolaus in the moment that Iolaus was branded. He may not have been able to talk, he may not have had a tongue but he could still make sounds. Cutie wailed, his pain and guilt more than he could bear. No longer caring what Tallin did, no longer grateful for his life as executioner Cutie threw the Thansis away from him and wiping the tears from his eyes turned back to Iolaus. He would do whatever he could for his friend, it was too late, but he'd do it anyway.

Pellius' face was filled with a mad light he was in his element. His most precious and long-lived fantasy had come true and it had been wonderful. Having dropped the branding iron the king stood admiring his handiwork; he reached out to touch the still smoking chest of his prisoner. The brand had burnt deep into the warrior's flesh, which was already beginning to blister and weep. Iolaus' eyes were open but he was focused on some internal nightmare, he could not see Pellius. He was making strange whistling whimpering sounds as he breathed, even that a searing agony to him.

Pellius was impressed with the small man, now that he'd witnessed a branding close up he wasn't surprised that people rarely survived them. He was amazed that Iolaus was still alive; it made him a little uncomfortable, what kind of man could survive all that Iolaus had? He wondered if he should perhaps put the creature out of its misery. But the decision was taken from him, something suddenly shouldered into the king, pushing him over, toppling him into the crowd.

Garcie had waited until Hercules had left the prison building before venturing out of her corner. The only sounds coming from outside now were the groans of injured soldiers, the healer in Garcie wanted to stay and help but she had something more pressing to do. There would be trained soldiers nearby who could treat these men, she was needed elsewhere. This might be her only chance to rescue Elissa from the palace.

She had to do it whilst Hercules was creating his distraction and then somehow find a way to lead him, and with a bit of luck Iolaus, to safety. The healer had thought of the perfect place to go, it was a few miles from town; a small cabin that she sometimes used when she wanted a little peace. It also acted as a base for her forays into the woods to collect plants. It was her private place and nobody knew of its existence, not even Elissa.

Now that she was outside Garcie could hear the cheering and shouting of the crowd in the town square, it sounded as if the whole town was there and briefly she wondered what had brought them all back. Cursing her old bones Garcie hurried towards the palace. There wasn't much time.

She had to push herself against a wall as she neared the arched entrance, a group of the palace guard came running out and set off towards the sounds of the crowd she could hear. This entrance was far away from the main doors which led to the palace from the square but Garcie thought she could find her way to Elissa's chambers, and hopefully going in the back way she would be less likely to come across too many more of the guard.

There were so many steps, they seemed to go on forever, up and up, round and round, into infinity. Her breath painful and ragged in her chest, Garcie leaned gasping against the wall. Someone moved on the stairs above her.

"Grandmother! Are you all right?"

Garcie forced herself to smile up at the queen and nod. "Fine. I'm ... fine. There's no time. We must hurry."

She turned to start back down the stone spiral staircase but Elissa called her back. "Garcie? What's going on? There's uproar in the square, all the guards have gone to help. I think..."

Garcie saw the stricken look on her granddaughter's face and felt a stab of dismay, what now?

"I think they branded him. Oh gods, it's all my fault!"

Garcie's eyes sparked "Don't be stupid! Now hurry, Hercules is going to need us. Quickly now!"

The two women descended the steps as quickly as they could. They were hampered by Garcie's age and by Elissa's long robe, but as soon as they reached level ground they began to run toward the square, both dreading what they would find there.

Hercules stood in the midst of chaos, the only person that didn't move or make a sound. All around him people were turning on each other; some just wanted to get away, others in their fear and confusion were lashing out at anything and everything. Their king had fallen into the tightly packed audience and now they were panicking. Nobody was sure what had happened; nobody knew where the king was or why he had fallen. Some were shouting that it was a sign from the gods, others that Iolaus had supernatural powers and was exacting his revenge. Some were just too horrified by the smell of burning flesh that hung in the air to do anything more than try to run, flee the horror.

It was only for a moment that Hercules was still, looking aghast at his friend, his buddy Iolaus. The sight before him the most terrible thing he had ever witnessed in his long career as hero, all the more terrible because Iolaus still lived.

"Iolaus."

The sound of his voice didn't carry, nobody heard, but Hercules galvanised himself into action as he realised that the pressure of the mass of people was beginning to rock the platform. He couldn't allow Iolaus to fall into the mob. Again throwing people aside but this time without the raging cloud of red smothering him, Hercules pushed his way to the steps of the platform.

He didn't think about himself, the only thought that filled his head was to get Iolaus away from this place, get him somewhere safe, and somewhere quiet. As the demigod clambered over the guards who were vainly trying to stop the push of the crowd he heard the shouted orders of military men, the army had arrived and instead of going after Hercules they were trying to clear the square, relieve the suffocating pressure, save the townsfolk from their own panic.

Looking across at Iolaus it took Hercules a moment to understand what he was seeing, Tallin and the king were nowhere to be seen, his only company on the platform was some very scared palace guards who were attempting to hold the crowd back with their spears, Iolaus, who was still suspended from the scaffold and one other man - the executioner. Cutie was pulling at the chains that held Iolaus to the crossbeam, tears still streaming down his face. A strange, awful, keening sound was coming from the large man as he desperately tried to free Iolaus.

Hercules put a hand over Cutie's own; it was not as large as the executioner's hand Hercules had found a gentle giant here on the platform. Quietly but forcefully enough to cut through all the noise Hercules said, "Here, let me try."

With a swift smooth motion Hercules pulled the chain free of the huge oak beam, gesturing for Cutie to hold Iolaus up he repeated the exercise on the other side. Iolaus dropped bonelessly into Cutie's arms, his whimpering breathing stopping for a moment before continuing just as before.

Cutie turned Iolaus so that he could lift him into his arms to carry him and looked expectantly down at Hercules. He was used to being given orders, from this man he would take any order. This man was Hercules; this man was friend to his friend.

Hercules took a brief moment to brush Iolaus' forehead with his fingertips; resisting the urge to pull him from the other man's arms, knowing that he may well need to fight his way out of this and he couldn't do that if he was carrying Iolaus. The demigod could see from the protective way that the executioner held Iolaus that he would not hurt the smaller man, he could see in his determined expression that Iolaus' new friend would probably give up his own life if he thought it would help.

"Which way?"

Cutie just frowned.

"What's the quickest way out of here?"

Cutie nodded his understanding, frowned in concentration for a moment and then nodded his head to the right. Hercules didn't have time to wonder why the other man didn't speak; he just hoped that the directions were correct. The army was very efficient, people were beginning to calm and the square was emptying out too quickly. It wouldn't be long before on