A sequel to Seeds of Doubt
Tatiana was dead, but she lived in Iolaus’ dreams. He still felt the touch of her fingers running over his skin, he still heard her irritating giggle, he still looked into her violet eyes. Even in death she wouldn’t leave him alone. Every night she visited him. Whispered in his ear. Reminded him of all the places she’d taken him until he wanted to scream. Until he did scream, running from the dream to the safety of the waking world. Sometimes Hercules was there to comfort him, to remind him that she was dead. Gone. Banished to a place where she could never touch him again. But sometimes Hercules wasn’t there, his place beside the campfire empty. He had vanished into the night; walking. Iolaus hadn’t been able to get Hercules to talk to him about it, he would only say on these occasions that he hadn’t been able to sleep and that walking helped.
Iolaus didn’t want to admit to the demi-god how frightened he became when his friend wasn’t there. He didn’t like to admit it even to himself. Ever since the weeks in Ossian with Ffloyd and Tatiana, Iolaus had felt a need to be with Hercules all the time. The only time he didn’t like the demigod to be there was when he bathed. Suddenly he found himself to be ashamed of his own body. Suddenly he didn’t want anyone else to see him, not even his brother, not even Hercules. But even then he wanted to know that Hercules was close by, within shouting distance. The hunter couldn’t have explained why he needed the contact, except that he didn’t feel safe alone. He wasn’t afraid of bandits, or hydras. He was afraid of Ffloyd. But Ffloyd was dead, Hercules had told the hunter that he had seen him go up in flames. It was not a death Iolaus would normally chose for anyone, but with Ffloyd he took a nasty kind of pleasure in the thought that his tormentor had been made to suffer horribly as he died.
But somehow he still felt fear. Fear of Ffloyd, fear of what Iolaus had become. Tatiana had pushed him into doing things he did not want to contemplate. But she had only pushed, he had done the things. Her suggestions, his actions. And he battled with the hate that remained, the hate that was turning in on himself.
This was one of the nights that Hercules had disappeared into the darkness. He was somewhere out there, on the slopes of the hillside above the lake. Iolaus wondered if he ever heard the hunter’s waking screams; heard them and knew they were because of dreams, so didn’t come running. Or heard them and ignored them anyway. Self doubt was a new feeling for Iolaus. He didn’t think badly of Hercules, just of his own ability to deserve the demi-god’s love. The truth was that Hercules probably didn’t hear, he’d walked too far away for the sound to carry through the trees. Iolaus felt no comfort in that thought. He knew he was clinging to his friend for comfort, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Hercules walked through the blackness of the night. There were no stars and no moon, and he could see nothing. But he walked anyway, some unerring sense leading him along the safe path, stopping him from becoming completely lost in the undergrowth. Iolaus was the better hunter and his senses were the keenest. But on these night walks Hercules was able to switch off his mind so that it did not interfere with his senses. He fleetingly supposed that this was why Iolaus was such a good hunter. He could subvert his conscious mind to his senses, he could abandon himself to their trust. Hercules had always had a hard time doing that, his rational mind had always wanted to intercede.
The lake that Orrant had recommended for fishing was perfect, the scenery beautiful. And luckily for him, Hercules smiled at the thought, the weather wasn’t cold enough to have to fish through the ice. The days that they had spent together here had been good. Full of laughter and happy banter, with fresh fish to eat and bracing clear winter air, but there was an underlying tension between the friends. They had been at the lake for two weeks now, and neither had broached the subject that was foremost in both their minds. Both of them unable to articulate their fears, trying to pretend that everything was all right. It wasn’t.
He thought of his friend, even now sleeping peacefully in the cave above the lake. He thought of the dungeon, his mind filling in the image of Iolaus’ body pulled taut by the chains as it hung from the rings in the ceiling. It provided the details; the bruises and the blood, the tears on his friend’s face, even the goose bumps on his flesh. But his mind always shied away from taking the image further. He couldn’t imagine what had actually taken place between tormentor and victim, he couldn’t imagine what role the dancing girl had played. He didn’t want to know.
Ffloyd was out there somewhere, Hercules knew it. He felt the truth of it, and unlike before he was not going to deny it. The demigod knew that he had to tell Iolaus, but he was frightened so he kept putting it off. He realised that leaving Iolaus alone like this was a foolish risk, but these walks he took had become ingrained. They had become his addiction. He couldn’t let Iolaus see how scared he was, how could he explain that ‘he’ the son of Zeus was terrified of Ffloyd and what he could do? How could he tell Iolaus that the demi-god was scared of telling him the truth, scared of his reaction, scared of Iolaus’ hate?
The sky was showing the first signs of dawn when Hercules returned to the cave, he entered it quietly not wanting to disturb Iolaus. But the cave was empty, the fire burned out. There was no sign of Iolaus. Hercules’ heart stopped in his chest, surely not! Surely it couldn’t be. He forced himself to remain calm, fighting the rising panic with ruthless determination. Concentrating on keeping calm Hercules slowly walked to the lake, perhaps Iolaus had risen early to get a head start on the day’s fishing.
As Hercules approached the lake he could see glimpses from between the trees of its smooth silvery surface, and then he spotted Iolaus. He was in the lake, standing hip deep in the water and staring out toward the distant mountains watching the sun rise. Hercules paused, he wasn’t sure that he should disturb his friend, he had been spending a lot of time bathing recently and he’d been very private about it. Hercules had attempted a joke one morning about how clean the hunter must be, but it had not been received well. Iolaus’ mouth had tightened into a line and he had turned away.
But Hercules had to talk to Iolaus. He had to tell him about Ffloyd, he had to understand the dangers. The demi-god took a deep breath and moved forward out of the trees, this was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. Clearing his throat to warn the hunter of his presence Hercules stood by Iolaus’ abandoned clothing at the lake’s edge.
Iolaus started and turned to look at Hercules. For a moment the demigod saw the pain that he had been hiding, and then it was his old buddy again, grinning at him.
“You were an early bird this morning Herc. Where’d you get to?”
Iolaus made no move to come back to shore. He stood, arms crossed, watching his friend.
“I went for a walk. Look Iolaus, there’s something I have to tell you. Will you come out of the lake? It’s not something I can shout at you.”
Iolaus grinned, “Well, it’s not ‘that’ cold, why don’t you come here?!”
Hercules shook his head not rising to the verbal challenge, he could not joke now. Iolaus looked at him for a moment and then sighed, here it was then. Slowly he walked back to shore wishing he had an excuse to send Hercules away, ask to meet him at the cave. But it wouldn’t wash and Iolaus didn’t want to have to try and explain why he felt so embarrassed about his body now. Uncomfortably he donned his clothes, it was cold and he was in danger of catching a chill but neither man seemed to notice. They sat on boulders on the lake shore staring out at the calm water.
Hercules finally broke the silence, “I’ve let you down Iolaus. There’s something I’ve kept hidden from you. Something you need to know.”
He glanced sideways at his friend, who was still silently watching the water. “Iolaus, in the fire... Ffloyd. He...”
Iolaus winced, he didn’t want to hear the next words he knew what they were. “He’s alive. He’s still out there.”
Hercules stared at the hunter, “You knew? How did you know?”
Iolaus shrugged, “I didn’t know. Not for sure, but he’s been there in my mind. Alive in a way Tatiana isn’t. I can’t explain it. I couldn’t understand it, until now. It’s really true then?”
Hercules nodded as Iolaus turned to look at him, his voice softening as he spoke. He told Iolaus of returning to Ffloyd’s rooms to discover that there was no body. He described how they had found a secret passageway, and how the King had persuaded Hercules and Orrant to keep the discovery a secret. “It wasn’t difficult. How could I tell you that? After everything that you’d gone through. How could I do that to you?”
Hercules wouldn’t look at his friend as he spoke, he gazed at the changing colour of the clouds over the mountains. The demi-god could feel Iolaus’ eyes watching him. He waited for a response to his words, he waited for Iolaus to hate him.
“Did they find any trace of him outside?” was all that Iolaus said.
“Yes. By the river. Just as we were leaving the castle. It looked as if he had fallen in, been swept down river, drowned.”
Iolaus gave a cynical little laugh, “But we know better don’t we. Ffloyd doesn’t die that easily. So. It’s not over. I will get to see him again.”
There was a silence that Hercules found physically painful, his fear of how Iolaus would react to his betrayal filling him. Iolaus sighed and looked back out over the water.
“I know what you need me to say Hercules. You need my forgiveness. I would give it to you - in an instant. But I can’t, not yet. I don’t know what I feel. And right now - I’m sorry. I can’t talk about this. Not now.”
Iolaus stood and walked away from Hercules. He wasn’t angry with the demi-god but he was hurt. And frightened, very, very frightened. Ffloyd was still out there, Ffloyd wanted revenge on him, and Ffloyd always got what he wanted. Sooner or later Iolaus was going to have to face his worst nightmare again, and he didn’t know if he had the strength.
Hercules remained seated on the boulder looking over the lake. His heart was full, his mind empty. This reaction was the one reaction he hadn’t expected. He’d been prepared for hurt reprisals, accusations. He’d even been prepared for tears of recrimination. But this? This non-reaction was impossible to deal with. He needed to know how Iolaus felt so that he could take action to resolve things. Hercules didn’t consider that Iolaus didn’t know himself how he felt. Both men had forgotten in the throes of their own pain the depth of the other man’s feelings.
“You shouldn’t have told him, you should have just kept your big mouth shut. Yeah and kept lying to him, deceiving him. Until Ffloyd turns up, then what? Oh yeah! By the way Iolaus I was meaning to tell you...” Hercules spoke out loud, with no one to hear him.
“Iolaus. What can I do? How can I protect you now? I have to make up for failing you somehow. Ffloyd was right about me wasn’t he? I do treat you like a little puppy dog, never thinking about how ‘you’ feel, what ‘you’ need. I don’t deserve your friendship. Maybe you’d be better off without me around.”
Slowly Hercules got to his feet, he felt heavy, lethargic. He didn’t know what to do next. He couldn’t chase after Iolaus, the hunter had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want him around. So, he walked again, for miles. All day he walked, only returning to the cave where they had set up camp at dusk. Iolaus wasn’t there. There was no sign that he’d been back at all. Hercules lay down in his accustomed spot, not bothering to eat or build a fire. He hadn’t eaten all day, he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and he was exhausting himself with his forced marches through the hills. On the verge of collapse Hercules fell into a deep sleep.
The dreams came to him as they always did. First there was Tatiana’s violet eyes against the night sky, with the sound of Iolaus screaming. Then there was Ffloyd, blood caking his face. A manic gleam in his steely eyes as he peered over the flickering candle at Hercules. Spitting out the words with a fearful venom, “Suffer? He hasn’t even begun to suffer!” and, “You have no idea Hercules, no idea.”
There were other dreams that visited the sleeping Hercules too, dreams that were even more disturbing to him. Dreams where he could see the familiar shape of Iolaus, but only ever in shadow. He saw glimpses of unspeakable things, Tatiana and Iolaus together. Ffloyd gloating as Iolaus’ body was beaten. The shape of Iolaus screaming his agony with no one to hear but the eager ears of the dancing girl. Hercules didn’t understand everything he saw in these dreams, and some of the things he thought he saw he didn’t want to understand.
More times than he could count the demi-god had woken bathed in a cold sweat, biting down on his scream so that he wouldn’t wake the sleeping Iolaus. Too many times he’d had to forget his own nightmares when his companion had pierced the night with dream driven screams. Take the shivering body in his arms and soothe it as if he were soothing a frightened rabbit, or a child. The sheer terror he saw in Iolaus’ face on those occasions was enough to make Hercules forget all about his own dreams. It was enough to make him want to lash out at someone, make them pay.
But even knowing that Iolaus needed him the demi-god had still wandered off into the night more and more frequently. Walking for miles before daybreak in a world of his own, neither sleeping nor waking. He wondered what Iolaus did when he woke from a dream and Hercules wasn’t there to comfort him. He wondered, but he couldn’t remain behind. He needed to walk, he needed to hide his mind from the thoughts that tormented him. He needed the walks like an addict needs their drug.
The dreams visited Hercules all night, and he tossed and turned not getting the rest he so desperately needed. When he awoke, some time before the dawn, Iolaus had not returned. Hercules didn’t know what to do. He was worried sick about his friend, but he couldn’t go after him not after their conversation at the lake. He had to give Iolaus the space he needed.
Iolaus was cold and tired but he couldn’t rest, he couldn’t return to the camp. There were too many thoughts fighting for supremacy in his mind. He wanted to work through them, to understand, before he talked to Hercules.
This was stupid though, they were friends weren’t they? Hercules had only been trying to protect Iolaus, only been trying to keep him safe when he was at his most vulnerable. Why couldn’t he just accept that and get on? Why had he turned away from his friend, hurt him by his rejection? Iolaus knew that it hurts to see the truth about yourself sometimes, but he also knew that it’s always better in the end to know that truth. The hunter felt that he no longer deserved Hercules’ affection. He felt that he was unworthy of such a great companion. The son of Zeus should have a partner who was as good a person as he was. Iolaus could not be that person anymore. He had been shown a dark side of himself, a side worse than anything he could have imagined. He didn’t want to taint Hercules’ good reputation. A small part of Iolaus protested at these thoughts. It was a ridiculous attitude, he was just running away from himself. He had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide. Iolaus had been the victim in all this.
He went over and over all of these thoughts as he walked away from the lake, not taking any notice of his surroundings. Iolaus’ feelings of shame and self-loathing threatened to overcome him. He couldn’t forgive his body for what it had made him do. And he couldn’t bring himself to forgive Hercules from hiding the truth from him, no matter the reason. He had lied to Iolaus, he had taken it upon himself to know what was best for the other man. And for that lack of trust Iolaus could not simply forgive. He knew that Hercules had thought he was doing the right thing, he knew that he would probably have done the same. But his heart did not let him forget that Hercules hadn’t been there for Iolaus. He hadn’t rescued him.
The day passed as Iolaus walked unseeing through the woods. He didn’t notice when he passed the figure hiding behind some bushes. He didn’t notice the steel grey eyes that watched him hungrily. He just walked. As darkness fell Iolaus realised that he was many miles from the lake and he looked for somewhere to spend the night. For the want of a better site he curled up between the roots of a large tree snuggling in amongst the fallen leaves for warmth. He’d had nothing to eat or drink but he didn’t care. He was tired and so he slept.
While he slept a tall figure moved to stand over him. Looking down at the sleeping form Ffloyd smiled, his face deep in shadow. The little man would wait for him and when he was ready the little man would become his plaything, his entertainment. Revenge really was sweet! Ffloyd’s smile widened as Iolaus stirred. Blue eyes opened and looked up at the dark shadow standing over him. Just a dream, just another nightmare of Ffloyd returning. Iolaus slept again and Ffloyd was gone.
The morning sun found Iolaus awake and disoriented. It took him a few minutes to realise where he was and why he was there. He cursed himself for his stupidity and, groaning as he worked out the kinks in his muscles, determined to return to the cave and talk to Hercules. The talk they should have had a long time ago. How could he accuse the demi-god of lack of trust when he wasn’t being open and honest himself. This secrecy didn’t sit well with Iolaus, it made him uncomfortable. But he didn’t want to turn his fears into words, didn’t want to bring them out for inspection in the light of day. And he feared Hercules’ forgiveness and understanding. Iolaus knew deep down that he needed to get it out, needed to tell his friend. What had he been thinking running away from the big guy like that? With Ffloyd on the loose? That reminded him of his dream and he shivered remembering the shadowy face looking down at him.
Iolaus pushed himself hard as he retraced his steps, wanting to get back to the lake and his friend as quickly as possible. Today, now that his mind was set he was seeing demons behind every tree, eyes watched him from behind every bush. He wanted to get back to the safety of Hercules.
As Iolaus walked, shying at every sudden sound and movement, he was being watched. Familiar grey eyes glinted as they followed the hunter’s progress through the trees. Ffloyd was easily recognisable even though his nose had not healed well from Iolaus’ punch and one side of his face bore scars from the fire. He smiled as he watched, smiled and whispered to himself,
“Oh yes, little man! You will be mine. And you can have no idea of what I have in store for you. No idea!”
Iolaus walked on down the wooded slopes, whistling. Attempting to hide his fear from himself.
Chapter 2
It was late in the afternoon before the tired hunter arrived back at the lake. He found Hercules sitting on the same boulder as he had on the previous day.
“You didn’t sit there all this time did you?” Iolaus voice was cheerful, but his face was full of concern.
Hercules looked up startled. He smiled hesitantly to see his friend returned, relief apparent in his voice,
“Iolaus! Where have you been? No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.” He moved over slightly as the hunter sat down beside him.
“I was worried that you wouldn’t come back. I’m sorry Iolaus. I know that I was wrong. I just....”
Iolaus put a hand on Hercules’ gauntleted arm, “It’s okay Herc. Really. We do have to talk though. You’re not the only one who’s been hiding things, there are some things I should tell you too. First off though; you lied to me and I won’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt. It means you couldn’t trust me.” Iolaus stopped Hercules’ interruption with a glance and continued.
“You didn’t trust me Hercules. But I ‘do’ understand why. And I would probably have done exactly the same thing to protect you. So, I do forgive you. But next time I want to be told the truth, no matter how bad it is, OK?”
Hercules nodded, “Yes, Iolaus. All right. I never wanted you to think I didn’t trust you. I do, with my life.”
Iolaus smiled, and ducked his head in an ‘Aw shucks’ gesture. Grinning at each other the two men knew that at least one bridge had been mended.
Hercules spoke softly, “I’ve known there’s something you didn’t want to talk about. I have to be honest here. One of the reasons I didn’t ask is because a part of me doesn’t want to know. It hurts to see you in pain. It hurts to know what you’ve suffered. I was afraid. I’m sorry Iolaus I’m not turning out to be much of a friend for you. Ffloyd was right.”
Iolaus stared at Hercules as if he had sprouted a horn in the middle of his forehead. Angrily he replied,
“Don’t you ever say that to me! You’re the best friend any man could ever have. And don’t believe all that rubbish Ffloyd fed you. You are the son of Zeus, you are a big hero but that doesn’t lessen my role. And it doesn’t mean that I’m some kind of lackey to you. I love being your partner Herc, I love fighting by your side. And I don’t do it for a pat on the head from you! I do it because there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. So you’re not perfect! Big deal! Nobody is, learn that lesson buddy. Learn and move on.”
Iolaus took a deep breath, here came the hard part. “I guess I needed to learn that lesson again too. I’m not perfect Hercules.”
Hercules feigned a look of surprise and Iolaus giggled, “Big news huh?!”
It was good between them again, both men could feel the tension dissipate. Both men could feel their friendship winning over their fears.
Iolaus sighed, “This is tough. Back at the castle, in the dungeon - Tatiana used to come to me. She’d giggle, and look at me, and... touch me.”
Hercules felt his heart tearing apart at the pain he could see on his friend’s face. The words were so hard for Iolaus to say, but he had to do it. The demi-god touched his hand to Iolaus’ back gently. Iolaus smiled his thanks,
“My body, it... it liked her touch. It answered her call. All the time I was full of hate for her, my body was... it was betraying me. Later when they thought I was ready, and they took me from the dungeon. They put me in her room, we were together.”
Abruptly Iolaus stood and walked the few paces to the edge of the lake. Water lapped at his boots. Hercules watched him, guessing what he was going to say. Hating it but knowing that Iolaus had to get this out in the open before it destroyed him.
“We spent every night together. I did things....she wanted me to. Hercules! I hurt her; I hurt her and I enjoyed it. How can I live with that? How can you want to be around me?!”
Hercules went to stand beside the hunter, their arms touching. They both looked out over the water for a time before he spoke.
“Iolaus. Did you do anything she didn’t want you to? Did you force her?”
Iolaus shook his head. Tears threatening, he battled to keep control. “No. No I didn’t.”
“Look, you’d been tortured, forced to the very edge of your endurance. You were in pain. There’s no shame in admitting that your body took pleasure from a gentle touch, with all it had suffered. It wasn’t wrong Iolaus, it doesn’t make you a bad person. You were just pushed too far by, two manipulative, cruel people. They took advantage of your capacity for love, they took advantage of your confusion. Tell me, what did you enjoy about it?”
Iolaus thought for a long moment, trying to remember exactly how he’d felt. “I had power. I was in control of her. That felt good. It felt good to hear her cry out, to know that I’d caused her pain.” He moved in closer to Hercules needing the comfort of his touch, needing to know that he wouldn’t turn away.
Hercules draped his arm across Iolaus’ shoulders, knowing and understanding his unspoken need. “All right then. You’d been in a position where you had no power, no control over your destiny. You were vulnerable. So, an opportunity arose for you to feel control over something, anything. You took it. Of course you did, I would have too. You were protecting yourself, stopping them from taking everything away from you. Tatiana was too full of herself to realise it. She thought it was just another humiliation for you, she didn’t know that it helped you keep a piece of your soul.”
Iolaus laughed quietly, “Neither did I Herc! Where’d you come up with all that?”
“Oh, you pick these things up when you’re a demi-god. Remember; I’m never wrong!”
“I enjoyed hurting her.”
Hercules turned Iolaus around to look at him, taking a tight hold of his shoulders. “Iolaus. Don’t do this to yourself. She’d been a part of your torture. She’d hurt you - deeply. It doesn’t make you bad to have taken satisfaction from hurting her. If I could have, I ‘would’ have hurt her. I would have enjoyed making her pay for the living Tartarus she put you through. And if I ever get my hands on Ffloyd, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born!”
Iolaus smiled a small smile at the thought of Hercules on the rampage. He felt better, not much but a little. He thought he could learn to live with what had happened, and maybe even forgive his body for its betrayal. He rubbed his hands together,
“So, are you hungry? I’m famished. I bet I can catch more fish than you before dinner!”
Hercules laughed and told Iolaus he thought he’d lost his brain out there in the woods. Everyone ‘knew’ that the semi-divine were better fishermen. It wasn’t perfect between them but it was better. The threat of a storm had passed Iolaus would be able to deal with his pain. And he was a fighter, he’d bounce back. Nothing would keep his irrepressible little buddy down for long. And so long as Iolaus would be all right then he would too. Ffloyd had better beware, he was not going to lay one hand on Iolaus without Hercules chopping it off.
They passed the next few days at the lake. Both of them could feel the wounds beginning to heal, finally Iolaus felt that he could put Ffloyd and Tatiana behind him and get on with his life. Hercules was still worried about Ffloyd, he was out there somewhere, but he didn’t mention it to Iolaus, who seemed content not to think about him.
A week after their discussion Iolaus suggested to Hercules that it was time they move on.
“A town with a tavern would be kinda nice. You know; a hot stew and a mug of ale.” He grinned up at his companion.
Hercules laughed and shook the fish he’d caught that day in Iolaus’ face. “You’re just getting jealous of my talents! You’re right though, I wouldn’t say no to a proper bed.” Hercules stretched his back, he was getting too old for camping out for any length of time.
“D’you think he’s still out there Herc? Waiting to pounce.”
Hercules sighed, “I don’t know Iolaus. I really don’t know. But I do know that I won’t let him get you. He won’t hurt you again if I have anything to do with it.”
Devoid of emotion, Iolaus’ voice turned to a whisper, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep my friend. If he hurts me, he hurts me. Just don’t let him own me.” Iolaus walked away towards the cave, shouldering the fish he had caught.
Hercules looked after him, frightened by the way Iolaus had spoken, as if it were already determined that Ffloyd would torture him again. He felt a shiver run down his spine, this time he couldn’t let Iolaus down. This time he would protect him.
Over the next weeks Hercules and Iolaus returned to their old lives. They travelled between villages and towns. They fought bandits and barbarians. They rid one village of a monster that turned out to be nothing more than a lost dog howling at the moon. It felt good, Iolaus in particular had been nervous about fighting. He had worried that he’d lost his edge in the dungeon in Ossian. But he hadn’t, he was as quick and headstrong as ever.
Slowly over the weeks both men began to relax. There had been no news of Ffloyd. Lemnos’ men had found no more signs of him, and the king had now recalled them to the barracks. He believed Ffloyd had perished in the river, and Hercules and Iolaus were beginning to believe it too. One night, a few weeks after the winter solstice, the two men were sitting eating their supper at a wayside Inn. Hercules was watching with fondness as the smaller man stuffed his face full of food at the same time as he was expounding on the virtues of one of the barmaids.
“You should have seen it Herc! She was fantastic, it was like... like, Ares and you getting it on! She was amazing. She didn’t need anyone looking after her that’s for sure.”
“So, what are you going to do about it Iolaus?” The question was a serious one, Hercules knew that Iolaus had not been his usual self when it came to women. Tatiana had left some deep scars.
Iolaus raised an eyebrow and finished eating before he replied. “I don’t know Herc, you think I could handle her?”
He leaned back in his chair, “Okay. You want to be serious. I can do that. Look, I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I do know the longer I leave it the more like Hydras women seem to get. It’s stupid. Me! Scared of a healthy bit of flirting. But I am.”
He sighed and looked towards the barmaid, who caught his gaze and smiled at him.
“You know what Hercules? You didn’t need me tonight did you? I mean, there’s no monsters or barbarians about. So...?”
Hercules grinned, pleased to see this side of Iolaus return, “You go ahead Iolaus.” His voice lowered and turned serious as he added, “Have fun.”
Iolaus didn’t bother to answer, he rose from the table and swung into action. If his flirting skills were rusty, Hercules couldn’t tell, and neither could the pretty barmaid. Watching, and admiring Iolaus in action, Hercules decided to call it a night. He was tired, so he went up to his room feeling more relieved than he would ever let on to Iolaus. It finally felt like he had his old friend back, in full force.
The next morning Hercules greeted a rather bedraggled Iolaus at breakfast. He sat down opposite the hunter and waited expectantly for details.
“Morning Herc! Well that’s another demon defeated.” Seeing Hercules’ face Iolaus hastened to add that he didn’t mean the barmaid. “I meant Tatiana, her ghost’s been with me a long time. But she’s gone now. Gone for good!”
A rather rumpled looking barmaid came up to their table, still adjusting her hair. She smiled at Iolaus and gave him a very appreciative and lingering look. She waited patiently for Hercules to give her his order but her eyes didn’t stray from Iolaus. Hercules laughed when she left the table. His friend had certainly lost none of his skills.
“Did you want to stick around awhile Iolaus, or is it time to move on?”
Iolaus looked after the barmaid as she moved about behind the bar, “Well, there are certain attractions to sticking around for a few days.”
So they did, but then a plea for help from a nearby village came in. Iolaus told Hercules to go on ahead, he’d stay at the tavern. Not to worry, everything would be fine. And it was. Hercules returned to the tavern a few days later, to find Iolaus happily eating a huge meal with the barmaid whispering into his ear.
They began to relax their vigil. Ffloyd hadn’t appeared from behind any of the numerous bushes and trees they’d passed. He hadn’t come up out of the shadows one night to swallow Iolaus up. So, slowly, as the days began to grow longer, the two men stopped feeling a need to be together all the time. Spring was in the air, it was time to visit family and friends. They spent time apart, only briefly at first. A day here, a couple of days there. And then it became a week, two weeks. Until by some unspoken understanding, they both decided that Ffloyd must be dead. He would have made himself known by now. It was months since he’d fled the castle, and he hadn’t been seen or heard of since. Ffloyd was dead, the nightmare was over.
Spring had broken the grip of winter and now it was showing off the possibilities of summer. The evenings were growing lighter, the days were hot, and the sun shone unopposed by cloud. Hercules had received a message from Iphicles, and the demi-god wanted to visit his royal brother. He wondered if Iolaus wanted to come along. Iolaus declined, his relationship with Iphicles was still a little uncomfortable and anyway, Hercules deserved to have a little quality time with his blood brother. Iolaus told Hercules that he would go do a little hunting without the demi-god around to frighten every living thing away.
They parted company telling each other to take care, and agreeing to meet up again in a few weeks time. Neither man thought of Ffloyd, neither man felt any kind of premonition. All that horror was behind them, over, forgotten.
Chapter 3
The days continued hot and sunny, Iolaus revelled in the feel of the sun on his skin. He shook off the winter and the horrors of the previous autumn and enjoyed the rebirth he seemed to be sharing with the flowers and the birds. With a grin on his face he walked through the countryside, stopping to hunt where and when he felt like it.
One day after eating a quick lunch of left over rabbit, Iolaus came across a cave, it was big and had a sandy floor, and it overlooked a river. It was obviously used by travellers, but by the looks of things no one had been there for some time. It was a good place to spend a few days. The hunter had seen signs of deer in these woods and he was keen to get some real practise in with his bow.
He set himself up a camp in the cave, the afternoon heat reaching even inside the rock walls. Iolaus was planning to go hunting at dusk when the animals came out to feed. But as he stood inside the large rock room the hunter realised that he had a visitor. Looking to the cave’s entrance he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the bright light there. Once they had he gasped his surprise, the figure in the dark blue breeches and faded tunic was straight out of his dreams.
Iolaus couldn’t believe that this was real, he couldn’t believe that the nightmare had really returned after all these months. The vision in front of him, the tall figure with the grey eyes and beard brought back so much pain to the hunter. He desperately wanted this to be nothing more than a bad dream. But he knew better. Iolaus had a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, but he still felt goose bumps running up his arms. Ffloyd smiled, his broken nose hadn’t healed very well, and it looked strange now in his narrow face. His hands and part of one side of his face showed how close his escape from the fire had been.
And in his eyes burned an even more unnatural fire. Iolaus looked into those eyes with despair in his heart. Ffloyd was beyond reason now, Ffloyd needed his revenge on Iolaus and he ‘would’ have it. Iolaus backed away from the cave entrance knowing that there was no other way out, Ffloyd was blocking the only exit. But he couldn’t bring himself to be close to the evil that stood before him, couldn’t bear the thought of his touch. So he continued to back up giving Ffloyd exactly what he needed.
Ffloyd laughed, his voice had been damaged by the searing smoke, and it sounded rough and scratchy now. “Well, well, little man! Fancy meeting you here!” He laughed again and moved slowly toward the hunter, who had run out of room. He was backed against the cave wall. Frantically he looked around him but there was no weapon, no way out. His sword, which he had left near to the entrance, was now held loosely in Ffloyd’s hand swinging enticingly.
Iolaus was stunned. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his body. But he felt tied to the spot, unable to think clearly, because of this one man. Ffloyd who had returned from the dead to exact his revenge. Iolaus’ shocked mind could not believe he was being so stupid. But his emotions were being drawn back into that whirlpool of confusion and pain that he had barely survived the first time, and it frightened him to stillness.
“It’s been a long time Iolaus. I see you have recovered well. It’s so nice to know that you remember me! I remember you Iolaus. I remember our time together with great fondness, I hope that we can make some new memories together!”
All the time he spoke Ffloyd continued to edge forward until he stood close enough to Iolaus to raise the sword and hold it at the hunter’s throat. It swayed slightly as if Ffloyd was having difficulty with its weight. But it wasn’t the weight of the sword that was bothering him, it was the sight of his prey finally at his mercy. It was the culmination of these long painful months of planning. Ffloyd had forgotten in his desire for revenge on the little man how enticing he was. He had forgotten the challenge Iolaus presented to him, the excitement and thrill of the sport. The taller man smiled down at his prey,
“You don’t really need all that heavy leather Iolaus. It’s hot. I’m sure that you’d be much more comfortable without it. Take off your clothes little man. All of them. I want to see how well you’ve healed.”
Iolaus felt as if he were in a dream. His body wouldn’t respond as it should, his mind felt lethargic and stupid. He struggled against it, surely this one man, damaged man, couldn’t take him so easily. Surely there was a way of escape. But Iolaus couldn’t see through the fog that was filling his head, and slowly, with a fear in his heart that was threatening to overwhelm him, he complied. He took off his gauntlets first, letting them drop to the ground, then his boots. Then he looked at Ffloyd, who nodded his impatience, greed in his eyes. Iolaus shrugged off his tatty but much loved vest. His hands moved to his belt and paused there. He couldn’t do this, he wouldn’t do this. Why should he make anything easy for Ffloyd?
Ffloyd’s eyes narrowed as he saw that Iolaus had stopped playing his game, and he moved forward. Iolaus took this as his cue and grabbed hold of the sword, twisting it out of Ffloyd’s hands. But Ffloyd was not so easily surprised by Iolaus this time and he shoved him against the rock wall. Iolaus slammed into the rock hard knocking the breath out of him. He just had time to register his surprise at the strength Ffloyd had shown before Ffloyd was on him again. They fell to the ground wrestling with each other. Iolaus could not take control of the fight Ffloyd was like a snake wrapping himself around Iolaus, squeezing the breath from him. The sword lay abandoned just out of Iolaus’ reach and try as he may he couldn’t turn to reach it.
Ffloyd’s strength was inhuman it made Iolaus think of the few times he had been on the wrong side of Hercules. Eventually he found himself on his back with Ffloyd sitting astride his chest. His arm across Iolaus’ windpipe, pushing down hard enough for Iolaus to be on the verge of losing consciousness. Huge black spots began to appear in front of him. The edges of his vision turned into night and just as he thought he would pass out Ffloyd released the pressure. Iolaus gasped for air as Ffloyd smiled down at him.
“That was fun! We’ll have to do it again sometime. Now then, little man. Those cute little breeches of yours, they’ll have to go. NOW!”
Ffloyd got off of Iolaus and pulled him to his feet. Iolaus swayed black spots still swimming in his vision. Reluctantly he stood as Ffloyd reached out his long fingers and unfastened the belt letting it fall to the ground. He stood, still swaying slightly. Fighting the darkness that was trying to take him, forcing air into his lungs. Watching helpless as Ffloyd’s hands opened the fastening of Iolaus’ leather breeches. Seeing this gave the hunter a strange sense of dislocation, for a moment he was back in the dungeon with Ffloyd pushing the leather down over his hips. His fear still a fear of the unknown.
“Here, let me free you my little one.” Ffloyd’s hands rasped over Iolaus’ skin bringing his mind back to the present with a bump. Iolaus was at the mercy of Ffloyd’s madness. Helpless; his breath still painful in his chest and his vision swimming, he watched as his clothes were pushed down his body into a puddle at his feet. The hunter felt strangely apart from what was happening as if he were inside one of his dreams. He knew this wasn’t a dream, he knew it was real, but he felt unable to act. Just as he had for so many nights when Ffloyd and Tatiana had visited him in his sleep. Ffloyd gently helped Iolaus balance as he stepped out of his remaining clothing, and stood back to take a long look as Iolaus stood naked in front of him.
Iolaus raised his eyes to meet Ffloyd’s, “Why? Why this?” he indicated his nakedness.
Ffloyd just smiled and told Iolaus to turn around. Iolaus did so, and felt Ffloyd take his hands and pull them behind his back. Instinct took over and Iolaus took his last chance at escape. He had no plan, no thought except that he could not accept what Ffloyd was doing. All he knew was that he had to get away from this mad creature, escape this terrible trap. Escape this nightmare that was reality.
His body still recovering from the lack of air Iolaus pushed backwards, and when he felt Ffloyd begin to lose his balance he pulled his arms from the other man’s grip. Intending to put some space between them, to escape the trap before turning to fight, Iolaus didn’t even make a full stride. Ffloyd was on him in an instant and just as before Iolaus could not escape his clutches.
He fought hard, a desperation in his movements that Hercules would not have recognised. Iolaus fought like a cornered animal, knowing that he couldn’t go through all that uncertainty and pain again. Not wanting Ffloyd to get his revenge, fearing it; fearing losing his soul to this man. But it was a losing battle and before long Iolaus knew it. He found himself lying on the ground with his face buried in the sand, grains of sand burning his eyes and filling his mouth. He coughed, trying to breathe, as Ffloyd placed a knee painfully in Iolaus’ shoulder pinning it to the ground.
Iolaus felt his hands being pulled behind him and he felt the familiar cold metal of a pair of manacles encircling his wrists. Ffloyd, determining that the fight had gone from his captive for the moment, carefully helped him to his feet. Being inordinately gentle with the hunter Ffloyd escorted him to a corner of the cave where a stake had been driven deep into the ground. It was for travellers to hitch their animals to when the weather was bad, now it was to act as a hitching post for Iolaus. Ffloyd had produced a length of chain and he proceeded to secure the manacles firmly to the post with the chain.
He surveyed his handiwork for a moment then, satisfied that his captive wasn’t going anywhere, Ffloyd scooped up Iolaus’ clothing and took the bundle out of the cave. He returned a few minutes later,
“Oops! Nearly forgot. Can’t have you wearing anything more than you did the moment you were born. It’s so distracting!”
And with that Ffloyd lifted Iolaus’ talisman over his head and threw it to the far side of the cave.
Ffloyd sat down close to Iolaus and gestured for him to do the same.
“Now then, where were we? Ah yes! You asked why you had to be naked. Good question I think. Well, there are several reasons. I would think that a clever little person like you would be able to work out one or two of them by himself?”
Iolaus sat on the sandy ground watching the man opposite him. His stomach fluttered with uneasiness. He could think of a lot of reasons, and he didn’t like any of them. He remained silent, resisting the urge to give one of his usual rude and scathing comments. He knew that he had to be very careful here and if Ffloyd was in the mood for talking then they would talk, for as long as Iolaus could keep the conversation going. Once Ffloyd had been a powerful man, strong in both mind and body, but now he had broken inside. His mind was shattered and Iolaus was walking through the minefield that had been left behind.
“Hmmm, yes. I see you can. But you want me to explain anyway? How nice! Very well. Firstly, there’s the advantage it gives over a worthy opponent. A man doesn’t like to fight naked, he doesn’t like to be without the supposed protection that clothing gives. And then of course when he’s being held prisoner to extract information, or simply to break him, it is a decided advantage to have him naked. He feels more vulnerable, as you do now I think?”
Iolaus didn’t respond, keeping his face carefully neutral, but Ffloyd nodded to himself all the same as if he had agreed. “Yes. Indeed. It wears down on a man to be so uncovered all the time. In the winter there’s the added advantage of the cold making him even more uncomfortable. But you know about that.”
Yes, Iolaus knew about that. He shivered just thinking about the hours he had spent in the cold dungeon, strung from the rafters; naked, and cold, and in pain. The shock of being re-captured, by the man he had thought was dead, was slowly wearing off. Iolaus could apprise his situation with a clear head, but things did not look good for him. And at the moment he could see no escape. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try though. Oh no, he would never stop trying. Iolaus gave a small start at Ffloyd’s next words, it was almost as if he’d been reading his mind.
“And then of course it makes it harder for the prisoner to escape. Should he find a way out of his prison he has to be brazen enough to wander around stark naked, or be able to find something to cover his modesty. I suppose it all depends on whether he has any modesty, doesn’t it?”
Iolaus remained quiet; just watching his captor. Trying to judge his mood, his state of mind. Ffloyd was right, even if Iolaus could escape the cave he didn’t relish the idea of walking for miles to the nearest village in the nude. For one thing it was rough terrain and his feet would end up in shreds. But he knew that if the opportunity presented itself he would not pass it up because of a lack of clothing. He held this thought warm in his heart as a weapon against his enemy. Every little thing he could store up against Ffloyd, every piece of knowledge, might help him. And the tiny spark of hatred that Iolaus had held in his heart, the only thing that had kept him from becoming Ffloyd’s once before, returned. A tiny spark of anger, hatred, but more; a need to survive, a desperate need to defeat Ffloyd. Iolaus stared at his captor, wondering what it was that he was really fighting here.
“Then there’s the other reason, isn’t there? You think you know exactly what it is don’t you? Well, you don’t. If I’d had designs on your body I would have done something about it before now. I don’t want to ‘do’ anything. I just like to look. Is there something wrong with my admiring a particularly good example of the human form? Nobody has any qualms when people are seen admiring the statuary in Athens, especially explicit statuary I might add. No. Myself I prefer the living form, it continues to amaze me. Your body continues to amaze me, and the reaction it provokes in others. Take Tatiana for example, she became obsessed with your body. Fantasised about it, and all the disgusting things she could do to it, for hours. Very unhealthy attitude. I really don’t understand her lust. Such a base animal thing.”
Iolaus stared at Ffloyd, who seemed almost to have forgotten that he was there. What kind of man was this? He didn’t seem to have any of the same feelings and emotions that ran through the hearts of other humans. Even gods weren’t immune to feelings of lust and desire. What was he thinking, the gods were the worst. It might almost have been better if Ffloyd had lusted after his body, at least he could understand that feeling. But what did Ffloyd really want with him? What had he really wanted before, was it his soul? Iolaus felt cold again, perhaps Ffloyd wasn’t human at all, perhaps he was some kind of demon.
Ffloyd shook himself free of his reverie, and turned back to look at Iolaus. He stared at the hunter with a frankly admiring gaze. But Iolaus noticed for the first time that, even though there was greed in the steely eyes, there was no passion. Ffloyd moved over to sit beside the hunter, their bodies touching. Iolaus resisted the urge to shuffle away from the touch, it wouldn’t help him. He could feel the confusion that had once consumed him threaten to overtake again. Hating the closeness of Ffloyd he nevertheless kept remembering his gentleness and his acts of kindness when Iolaus had been most in pain.
Iolaus gave himself a mental slap, this was rubbish. No matter what minor acts of kindness Ffloyd had shown him, it had all been to his own ends. It had all been to make Iolaus try to commit a murder. He felt the confusion dissipate and his heart harden against the other man. He was evil, the most evil man Iolaus had ever encountered, and Iolaus would spare him no sympathy. And the spark became a flame, small but burning brightly. This time he would not succumb to the confusion, he would not play by Ffloyd’s rules.
Ffloyd sighed softly, and told Iolaus to lie down on his back. Iolaus complied, his manacled hands digging uncomfortably into him, causing his back to arch slightly as he lay on the ground. Ffloyd smiled his approval,
“It’s a pity I didn’t get more of a chance to do this before, when you’re body was still whole. But you’ve recovered well. Regained all the weight you lost, and the muscle tone is back too. That’s good. What about scars? Did your back scar? That would be a pity. Such beautiful skin.” Ffloyd seemed to drift off into another world. His eyes lost focus and even though he was looking down at Iolaus he wasn’t seeing him.
The chain was at it’s fullest extent and Iolaus’ arms were being pulled high up his back, he moved carefully giving himself some slack in the chain to play with. He pulled at his bonds, gauging the strength of the chains and the manacles that held him captive. But they were too strong. Each movement tearing at his already strained shoulders Iolaus tried to test the strength of the hitching post, but that too was strong. Deeply embedded in the ground, it didn’t move at all in response to his increasingly desperate attempts to pull it over.
Iolaus lay back exhausted, his arms screaming at him, and he waited. Not moving again, not able to move anymore, his energy spent in the attempt to free himself. He lay still, waiting for Ffloyd to return to the present. Ffloyd didn’t move, or speak, for a long time. Iolaus judged by the light from the cave’s entrance that at least two hours had passed. It was beginning to get dark out there. And then Ffloyd was back with a vengeance. He sneered down at Iolaus and punched him hard in the ribs. Iolaus let out a yelp of surprised pain.
Ffloyd grabbed Iolaus by his head, pulling him away from the hitching post. Stretching his arms until Iolaus thought that they were sure to be pulled from their sockets. He screamed, and Ffloyd grinned in triumph.
“You made me suffer little man. And you are going to pay. Things you cannot imagine, that’s what I’m going to do to you, ‘little’ man. You are going to wish you were dead. And out here, in the middle of nowhere, no one can hear you scream!”
Ffloyd began to laugh even as he pulled Iolaus to his left and then to his right, and then pulled him so that their faces were inches apart. It was the last thing Iolaus heard as he lost consciousness, that and his own screams.
Chapter 4
Iolaus slowly rose through the layers of consciousness, his mind unwilling to let go of its safe haven. He struggled with the darkness that surrounded his vision, until finally his sight cleared. There was a grey light in the cave, it must be early in the morning. Iolaus took a few seconds to remember his predicament and realise that he had been unconscious for the whole night. Where was Ffloyd? Iolaus carefully looked around him but he could see no signs of the man, demon, whatever he was. Slowly he used his feet to push himself closer to the post and release some of the pressure on his arms. Bolts of pain ran through his shoulders and down his arms, but he bit back the scream he didn’t want to bring Ffloyd back to him, not now. The effort exhausted him, but the hunter was slightly more comfortable now. He rested panting from the exertion, sweat filming his skin even though the morning air was still fresh.
A tuneless whistling preceded Ffloyd’s appearance in the cave. He carried some buckets, and his hair and beard were wet.
“Ah me! What a wonderful day it is Iolaus! I’ve been at my morning ablutions. Sorry you couldn’t come too but you looked so peaceful sleeping there, I didn’t want to wake you. Still, I brought you some water anyway.”
Ffloyd threw the contents of one of the buckets over Iolaus. The water was freezing and went in his mouth and up his nose, and as he spluttered and gasped for air Ffloyd watched smiling.
“There now, that’s better isn’t it? We don’t want you getting all smelly. Right then, what’s the plan for today I hear you wonder. Well, I think it would be nice if we could have a little story telling. I can tell you what I’ve been doing these last months and you can tell me what you’ve been doing. Mind now! I know most of it so no fibbing, I’d have to punish you for that!”
Iolaus lay his head back on the wet ground, he was shivering from the shock of the cold water hitting his body and his mind was not able to grasp what was going on. Last night Ffloyd had taken the greatest pleasure in causing Iolaus pain now he wanted them to tell stories? Ffloyd was mad, there was no doubt, and Iolaus had been the one to send him over the edge. If only Hercules had been able to kill him, if only Hercules were here now.
Ffloyd settled himself on the sandy ground and rested a jewelled hand on Iolaus’ chest,
“Now that we’re comfortable, I think you should start little one. Tell me where you went after leaving the castle.”
Iolaus frowned, why should he tell Ffloyd anything, but then again he needed to play for time. Time for Hercules to find them - if he came looking. And time for Iolaus to work a way out of this. If he was talking then Ffloyd wasn’t hurting him. If he wasn’t injured then he had a better chance of escape. He didn’t like it but he’d do it. He felt the minefield all around him, he knew how dangerous words could be with Ffloyd. He would have to tread carefully.
As Iolaus began to speak Ffloyd absently stroked his hand up and down the hunter’s chest. He didn’t seem to know he was doing it, like a man petting his dog. Iolaus thought that was probably the best way to describe how Ffloyd saw him, as a pet. A tame animal to be humoured or beaten at the master’s whim. He supposed he should be grateful that Ffloyd was in the humouring mood this morning.
“We left the castle in the midst of winter, it was cold but I wanted to go fishing anyway. Hercules let me take the lead, he would. He was scared that I would break at any moment, and he was scared of my reaction to the news that you were alive.” Iolaus paused, it felt good to talk about this, but to Ffloyd? He hadn’t planned to say so much, but he knew that he’d needed to talk about this to someone other than his brother, even if it was the man of his nightmares.
Ffloyd nodded in approval, this was good. And it was the truth, he appreciated the truth and the raw edge of pain it showed in the little man. He waited for Iolaus to continue.
“We went to the lake that Orrant had recommended. It was good, the fishing was excellent. But we were uncomfortable with each other, I couldn’t talk about you or Tatiana. And Hercules had his own demons to fight. We were no help to each other.”
Ffloyd tutted and shook his head in sympathy, his hand still caressing Iolaus’ skin with a slow gentleness. He waited for Iolaus to continue.
Iolaus told of the day Hercules had finally admitted that Ffloyd was alive, the memory of it painful to him. He told Ffloyd of his fear and hurt at what he’d seen as Hercules’ betrayal.
Ffloyd’s fingers found a rhythm as they explored Iolaus’ skin, brushing past his chest and across his belly, foraging with slim regard for the hunter’s dignity. Iolaus shivered his fear unable to control it. Ffloyd smiled his satisfaction. Iolaus continued to talk, his voice strained after so much exertion, Ffloyd gathered the hunter’s head in his arms and gently helped him to drink some water.
Iolaus told of the day he had spent walking without a destination in mind. Needing to be alone with his thoughts. He talked with a naked honesty of his emotions, of the scars Tatiana and Ffloyd had left him with. Ffloyd watched and mentally applauded. His hand moving over Iolaus’ skin skilfully. Delicately tracing patterns over his flesh. Enjoying the sensations it gave him.
“Go on, little man. Go on. I’m all agog!”
Iolaus cringed under the madman’s gaze. He felt the hand’s caress and feared it, but could do nothing. He was used to taking action against his foe, fighting the enemy. But he couldn’t do that here. He was helpless again, reliant on a madman for his future.
Iolaus told of curling up under the tree to sleep, alone and afraid. Ffloyd nodded,
“I know. You looked so peaceful there amongst the fallen leaves. I wanted to take you then. But that wasn’t part of the plan.”
Iolaus looked up at his tormentor in shock, it hadn’t been a dream. The silent shadowy figure standing over him that night had really been Ffloyd. He didn’t know how to cope with this new horror. Ffloyd ran his hand over Iolaus’ body sympathetically. Smiling his understanding even as he caressed the skin of his victim. His fingers delicately exploring all the places they didn’t belong, places a man who only wanted to ‘look’ should not go. Iolaus felt his mind scream it’s confusion and pain. And yet again he wished that Hercules was there. Hercules would understand, Hercules would save him.
Hercules was having a wonderful time with his mortal half brother. They spent the days hunting and fishing and talking together. It had been too long since Hercules had seen Iphicles, as always he felt guilty. But it felt so good to be able to just relax. He wasn’t worrying about Ffloyd all the time, Ffloyd was gone. And he knew that Iolaus was fine and probably having a great time himself. The months of strain were forgotten as Hercules relaxed. The lines and dark shadows under his eyes faded, and he joined the spring in welcoming the new. Everything was going to be all right, the future was looking good.
But then he started to dream again, after so long without being persecuted by those violet eyes and Ffloyd’s manic grin. At first he could not remember the dreams, he just awoke disturbed, worried but with nothing tangible to hold on to. Iphicles noticed the change in his brother and asked him if anything was wrong. Hercules hadn’t told Iphicles of the trials of the previous Autumn, for some reason the thought of having to describe what had happened made him uncomfortable. He realised that he should talk to someone other than Iolaus about it though. So, one night, he told his brother everything. Iphicles knew Lemnos, knew that something had happened in his Kingdom but had never discovered the details. He let the demi-god talk for hours, knowing that it was what his brother needed. Iolaus needed some time alone, Hercules needed to share his confusion and pain.
“I was too scared of what he might tell me. I couldn’t cope with knowing what they’d done to him. I failed him Iphicles, I let him down. I didn’t save him from them, and then I didn’t want to hear about his pain.” Hercules hung his head, he had thought that all this was behind him. He’d thought that he was all right with it, but he’d been wrong.
Iphicles watched his brother carefully, “Hercules. You may be the son of Zeus, but you are only human. Nobody’s perfect. Iolaus knows you, he knows how much you care for him. Don’t go around blaming yourself when he doesn’t.”
Hercules gave a little smile, “That’s what he said. ‘You’re not perfect’, he said. ‘Big deal! Learn the lesson and move on.’ He was right, and so are you. He’s a better man than me Iphicles, as you are!” Hercules grinned sheepishly at his brother.
Iphicles stifled a yawn, and gave Hercules an ‘Oh please!’ expression. “Well, now that you’ve finally seen the light, can we please call it a night and get some sleep. I’ve got a Kingdom to run you know!”
The two men said their goodnights and went to their beds. Hercules was tired and he fell asleep quickly. This time the dreams were clear. He was in them standing in the background watching. Unable to speak or move he was only able to watch helplessly. He could see Ffloyd, but a different Ffloyd from the one he was used to; he was thinner, his grey hair even greyer, and his nose bent and lumpy on his face. There were scars running down one side of his face and on his hands, and the regal robes he had favoured had been replaced by simple breeches and tunic. The sight of Ffloyd sent a sliver of ice running down Hercules spine, but what made him cry out in his sleep was the other man.
It was Iolaus, lying on the ground, his arms held uncomfortably behind his back, obviously tied somehow. He was naked and Ffloyd was touching him. Hercules woke suddenly his heart racing. They had dropped their guard too soon, and now Ffloyd had his friend again, and all the pain and all the fear he thought had been left behind in the winter fell heavily back on to Hercules’ heart. He had to find Iolaus, he couldn’t let him down again. He remembered his friend’s words all those months ago, spoken with such certainty in his voice, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep my friend. If he hurts me, he hurts me. Just don’t let him own me.”
Hercules had never given voice to that promise, but he did so now, with all his heart. “I won’t let him own you Iolaus, I won’t let him have your soul.”
He would not wait until morning, he had to leave now. He couldn’t lose a moment in his search for the hunter, every second might count. “Hold on Iolaus, I’m coming. Hold on Iolaus, I’m coming.” the words became a mantra running round and round in his head. Hercules left a message for Iphicles explaining his sudden departure, and without looking back he left his step-brother behind him.
Ffloyd had heard enough of Iolaus’ tale, he was bored by it. His hand continuing its exploration gently caressing everywhere it went, he looked into Iolaus’ eyes and smiled.
“You’re confused now aren’t you? You don’t understand how the man who feels no lust, no desire for your body, could be doing this to you. It’s simple really ‘little’ man. I enjoy seeing your tired mind fight me, I enjoy seeing its confusion. Because the more confused you are the weaker you are, and the easier it is for me to prey on you. And then you will be mine, body and soul.”
He leaned down over his captive and touched their lips together. Pulling away to smile at Iolaus he kissed him again harder this time. Prising the hunter’s jaw open with his strong hands, forcing his tongue in between the clenched teeth. Iolaus couldn’t submit to this, he had to fight back. He ‘had’ to do something. So he did the only thing open to him, he bit down on Ffloyd’s tongue as hard as he could. The sickly taste of blood flooded into his mouth, and as Ffloyd was screaming and pulling back Iolaus was gagging on the other man’s blood his retching tearing at his whole body. He would regret his action, but he would have regretted his inaction even more.
Ffloyd’s rage was immense. He roared around the cave, shouting and screaming abuse at Iolaus. Every few words he paused to spit blood. Finally he stood, shaking with his fury, staring at Iolaus.
“Now you’ll wish you’d never been born. You’re going to be begging me to kill you Iolaus. But don’t bother, I won’t be so kind.”
Ffloyd fell on Iolaus’ prone form. Helpless to defend himself other than by kicking out, Iolaus tried to protect himself from the mad creature that Ffloyd had become. ‘So much for keeping him sweet!’ But Iolaus knew that he’d had no choice.
Ffloyd was kicking and punching like a child in the midst of a temper tantrum. That was not a serious problem, Iolaus could deflect the worst of the punches that rained down on him. What was a problem was Ffloyd’s teeth. He was trying to bite the hunter, and his teeth were surprisingly sharp. Ffloyd was irritated by how easily Iolaus was managing to avoid his ire and he grabbed hold of the hunter’s flailing legs, pinning them to the ground and then prising them apart so that he could sit in the gap.
He put his head down biting deep into the meat of Iolaus’ inner thigh, sucking hungrily at the blood that started pumping out. Iolaus screamed so loudly that he thought his voice would break, but he didn’t find his old friend oblivion, Ffloyd would not let him in. Pushing himself up Iolaus’ body, biting and punching as he went, Ffloyd rested on the hunter’s chest. The pressure on Iolaus’ arms and shoulders caused him to cry out again, but there was little energy left in him and the scream was only a whisper. Tears stood in Iolaus’ eyes as his tormentor crushed their lips together again. Ffloyd had found Iolaus’ knife and held it to the hunter’s throat as he whispered fiercely,
“If you bite me again little man, I’ll cut you and watch you bleed. I’ll watch your life blood stain the sand and laugh as you die; even as I do what I please to your body - with you too weak with blood loss to fight me. It’s your choice little man. Chose your fate.”
Ffloyd pushed his still bloody tongue into Iolaus’ mouth. Iolaus made no response, he fought back the nausea that threatened him and lay waiting for this living Tartarus to release him. It did, eventually. Oblivion came to carry him away. But only after Ffloyd had finished kissing him. Only when Ffloyd had left the cave, only when silence prevailed, only then did Iolaus claim his right to a dreamless sleep. Exhausted, in pain and frightened beyond his capacity to cope Iolaus finally found respite.
But the respite was not for long, he was woken by Ffloyd’s hand exploring his abused and sore body. Iolaus felt feverish and dizzy, he head swam as he lay on his side waiting for this latest offence to be over. There was pain too, not just in his arms but in his leg. His leg felt heavy and ached until he wanted to cry out with the frustration of it. Iolaus tried to curl his body up slightly and as he did so he could see that the sand around his legs was dark and wet. Slowly he managed to get his tired mind to tell him what he was seeing - his own blood. It was from the bite on his inner thigh, which throbbed now in sickly rushes. ‘Don’t get bitten by a madman’ Iolaus giggled under his breath, ‘it’s catching.’
Chapter 5
Iphicles looked at the note from his brother with a kind of despair. Should he follow with his troops or should he do as Hercules asked and stay at home looking after his kingdom. He sighed, being a king wasn’t all it was made out to be, his every instinct cried out to follow the demigod, to follow no matter the consequences. But his regal self, his responsible self, told him otherwise. This was Hercules’ fight, and Iphicles had enough on his plate here at home without running off without a second’s notice. It was a difficult decision to make, and he hated it. Iolaus was in trouble, more trouble than Iphicles wanted to imagine, but it was Hercules who needed to help him. And if he couldn’t then who could? The king resigned himself to staying behind and prayed that Hercules could achieve the impossible as always, prayed that he could save Iolaus from the evil that was Ffloyd.
Iphicles could not follow Hercules himself, but he knew that his brother might have trouble finding Iolaus. There was no way of knowing where the hunter had gone after Hercules had left him. So the king summoned five of his best men, all good hunters and trackers. He could not leave his people but he had to do something to help Hercules. His brother’s love for his companion was something Iphicles was still jealous of. But he knew that Iolaus deserved the love, he was a good man, and Hercules was lucky to have him at his side. What would happen to Hercules if he lost Iolaus? Iphicles knew how deeply Hercules felt things. Iolaus could not die, not like this, he deserved an honourable warrior’s death, or a quiet one in old age. Iphicles watched his men ride forth and wished he could be with them, wished he could be by Hercules’ side in this battle.
Hercules travelled without respite, through the night and through the day. He didn’t stop, fearful that even a moments pause would be the difference between Iolaus’ life and his death. He cursed himself for leaving Iolaus alone. He cursed himself for being lulled into the false security, into believing that Ffloyd could be dead. He had been so stupid, so foolish, and now Iolaus was paying for his stupidity. Paying with his very soul.
Exhaustion only a pace behind him, the demi-god forced himself onward. Not knowing what he would do when he reached the forest, not knowing how he would find Iolaus. Just knowing he couldn’t rest until he did, knowing that he was no kind of friend unless he tried.
It was a long way between Corinth and the spot that Hercules had last seen Iolaus, and he didn’t know where his friend had been planning on going. Just into the forest to hunt - somewhere. It could be anywhere, Hercules prayed as he travelled, to his father, to any god that would listen, ‘Please let me find him, please lead me to him.’ He didn’t hold out much hope for the help of the gods though, the son of Zeus was used to having to fend for himself, he just hated it when somebody he loved suffered because of his familial struggle. And Iolaus had been that too many times.
The demigod hardly dared to sleep, but knew that if he didn’t he would be of no use at all to his buddy when he did finally find him. So he slept, fitfully. Dreaming of Ffloyd, dreaming of his closest friend’s screams piercing the night with their despair and their pain. He wanted someone else to take responsibility, he was tired of being the hero. But for Iolaus he would die, and nobody could take over his love for his friend. Nobody could understand his fear, nobody except Iolaus. Hercules could see the irony, but he couldn’t laugh, not until he knew Iolaus was safe. Not until he knew that he best friend was free of the demon called Ffloyd.
A chill ran through the demi-god; he hoped his dreams were a lie, he wished that he was wrong. Ffloyd’s hand had been all too gentle on his hunter friend’s body, all too friendly. If he was right, he didn’t want to contemplate what was happening to Iolaus, he wasn’t sure he could be strong enough for the both of them. As the demi-god walked, with a long purposeful stride, he rid himself of the fears and the emotions and surrendered himself to his instincts. It was what Iolaus would do, it was the only way he would find his friend.
Iolaus’ whole body was wracked with shivers, and he again found himself at the mercy of the man in the tattered blue outfit. The man with the strange smile and the grey eyes. His mind wandered within the fever. Sometimes he thought that the hands that held him close belonged to Hercules, sometimes he thought they were his mother’s and he was still only a child. His body fought the infection but it was strong and he was weak, worn down by the fear and confusion.
Ffloyd made him drink vile tasting potions, he said they would help. Iolaus was helpless to chose for himself. He shivered and sweated, the sand beneath him wet with his own blood and perspiration. At some point Ffloyd deemed him of so little threat that he could unfasten the manacles and his screaming arms were free of their trap. But the nightmare did not end. His arms were free but they were useless, even with his whole concentration he could do no more than twitch a little finger, and the pain of it. The monumental pain, which took over his mind and his body each time the hunter tried to take action; he despaired.
Slowly the fever left Iolaus, but it left him weaker than before. His body unable to follow his commands, it lay helpless beneath the penetrating gaze of a madman. Ffloyd was unpredictable, one moment he would be kind and caressing the next violent and angry, volatile. Iolaus was unable to predict his wide mood swings with his tired mind, and so he held on tight hoping that he could ride out the storm. Hoping he could hold on until Hercules found him. His faith in his friend and his little internal flame were the only things that kept him from giving up.
It was dawn, the silver light slanting in from the cave’s entrance told Iolaus that much. And Ffloyd was in a pensive mood, he was sitting beside the hunter staring at the grey light filtering in to the back of the cave. After a long silence he looked down at his captive and spoke,
“I suppose you’d like to know what I’ve been doing these past few months. How I survived the fire and the flood!”
Iolaus didn’t need to respond. He only needed to lay there helpless, his arms a leaden weight beside him, staring up at his captor with sky blue eyes. Ffloyd looked at his expression and smiled,
“Yes, I’m sure you would. Well! I have to tell you Iolaus, you did give me a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to be so... resilient. When you objected to my calling you little I was taken totally by surprise. I had expected Hercules to react with violence, I was ready to use it, but you?! That threw me, completely. I didn’t know what to do. And I have to admit I was angry.”
Iolaus glared up at Ffloyd, weak though he was his ferocious determination still showed through. The little flame within him still burned stronger than ever. As his body had weakened the flame had slowly grown.
“Oooh angry?! I’d have made you more than angry if you’d stuck around.”
Ffloyd smiled fondly down at Iolaus,
“I’m sure you would, my little thorn, I’m sure you would. Still, it wasn’t to be.”
Iolaus muttered under his breath, “Yeah, right! You ran away. Coward!”
Luckily for him, Ffloyd chose to ignore the comment and he continued, his voice scratching the air as he spoke,
“With Hercules coming after me, I decided it was best to let the anger consume me, or doubt might creep in. And I know all about doubt. You could say that I’m the master of doubt, the god of doubt.” Ffloyd chuckled to himself.
Iolaus groaned, “Now he thinks he’s a god. Where’ll it end?”
“So, I led him into my trap. I had to act quickly, I didn’t have any time to prepare.”
“And I suppose you want a medal for that, huh?”
Ffloyd’s patience had worn thin, and this was one barbed comment too many. He grabbed hold of Iolaus’ closest arm and raised it from the ground, eliciting a scream from the hunter. Pulling up on the arm Ffloyd pushed his other hand down on Iolaus’ ribs. Iolaus could feel them crack under the pressure, but he would not, could not, beg for mercy. Eventually Ffloyd let up the pressure, and smiling he continued with his story.
“It was all so simple in the end. I let him do all the work. The candle... he even started the fire for me. And the look on his face... it was priceless. Sheer horror. Such an innocent your friend Hercules, no depth, nothing to grab hold of, not like you my little thorn not like you at all.”
Even through his pain Iolaus bristled at this description of his friend, “And I suppose you know all about caring, and compassion. Just because he cares about people doesn’t make him weak.”
“Doesn’t it? Well, that’s your opinion, and you’re entitled to it. But, it was enough for me to confuse him. It was enough to delay him with his fear over his love, or parody of love, for you. He spent his time worrying about the abstract rather than saving you. He could have you know. But I knew he wouldn’t, I knew that his self doubt would over-ride his logic. If it hadn’t he may have saved you from a lot of heart-ache my diminutive friend, a lot of pain.”
Iolaus glared up at the slate coloured eyes, “For once and for all, I am not ‘diminutive’ and I am not your friend!”
“Oh, but don’t you think we have gone through enough together by now, Iolaus? Enough to give me that right?”
Ffloyd didn’t give Iolaus a chance to respond, he placed a hand over the hunter’s mouth to stop his words, and when he was satisfied that the captive would not speak he continued. As he spoke Ffloyd restlessly traced patterns over Iolaus’ skin with his long burn scarred fingers. The jewels he still kept there glinting in the dim light.
It was dark, only the starlight to show his path, but Hercules would not rest. He could not. The dreams that had woken him screaming from his sleep kept at him, worrying at him like dogs nipping at his heels. He could hear Iolaus breathing, the ragged sound covering his pain. He could feel the fear and he raged against it. Ffloyd could not be allowed to manipulate him again. He would not let his friend down, not this time. His friendship was true, it was equal. Iolaus was no more his puppy dog than he was Iolaus’. And he would not succumb again to the fears, to the doubts. Ffloyd had been brilliant at instilling fear in Hercules. He had been able to play his emotion like a musical instrument. But not this time, not again. Hercules was prepared. He wondered how much of this bravado was wish fulfilment, how much was his need for strength.
Again, for the thousandth time, Hercules wished that Iolaus was by his side dispelling the fears with a bad pun. Levelling Ffloyd to their standing with a dismissive word or two. Hercules couldn’t do that alone. Alone, Ffloyd grew out of all proportion, he became a giant, bigger than Typhon, more dangerous than Echidna or any of her children. And Hercules would have to face this monster, this nightmare brought to life. He would have to find a way to defeat him, to win back his brother’s life, his soul.
For Hercules didn’t doubt for a moment the visions he had. He knew that his dreams were showing him only the truth, though he wished they weren’t. The scene that played out in his head, of Ffloyd crouching over Iolaus’ prone and naked body laughing. Caressing his skin with long and scarred fingers, taking joy from the hunter’s obvious pain. That ‘was’ real, it was happening. Hercules had very little time left in which to find Iolaus, very little time before it would be too late.
Chapter 6
Ffloyd’s voice droned on. Iolaus could hear it, but he didn’t understand all that was being said. His mind drifted alarmingly, he seemed to have no control over it. He couldn’t think properly, stray thoughts kept creeping in. Unasked for, unwanted, but there. He supposed that he was still suffering the after-effects of the fever. And the pain; the pain still washed over him, pulsing through his body. But knowing the cause of his mind’s wandering was of no help to him. It was all too much for him to cope with. His body wouldn’t obey him, and neither would his mind. He wanted to sleep, but instead Iolaus forced himself to focus. He tried to tune back in to Ffloyd’s words. He tried to concentrate on the unpleasant scratching the burnt fingers made on his chest as the creature spoke. Iolaus could not call him man, not now, not after seeing his true face.
“I was still consumed by my rage, by my outrage at your impudence. All I wanted was revenge on you, and I ‘would’ get it. Nothing, not even your precious Hercules, was going to stop me. Slowly, over the months, as my nose and my burns began to heal I formed my plan. Not much of a plan you say. Yes you do, my dear sweet little Iolaus, no words escape your mouth but I hear you all the same. But it seems that it was enough of a plan. All I had to do was be patient. Wait until you and your poor deluded friend decided that I was dead after all. Wait until you were brave enough to leave the protection of your semi-divine protector; and then pounce!”
Iolaus could not imagine what it had been like for Ffloyd. All those months through the depth of winter, alone, his only company his hatred of the hunter. The only thing to keep him warm his obsession with revenge. No wonder he had gone mad, no wonder Iolaus was now stuck in the middle of a mine-field. Ffloyd levelled his gaze on the hunter but again his eyes had lost focus, again he was lost in his own memories. Thinking of the cold and the wet, thinking of the proud obsession he had carried with him in his cold heart.
Ffloyd was not a well man, the broken nose and especially the burns from the fire at the castle had taken their toll. He had been travelling for days now trying to cover his tracks. But Lemnos’ soldiers weren’t far behind, and they had supplies and bows to hunt with. Ffloyd had only the clothes he stood up in, his advisor’s robes, and colourful jewellery. They were of little use to him now.
Feverish and weak from hunger the King’s Royal Advisor, as he still imagined himself, stood beside a fast running river. He looked to the other shore wistfully knowing that he needed to reach the other side from here. He couldn’t afford to walk the three miles to the nearest bridge. The soldiers were too close, they would never guess that he would attempt to cross here. But then again, perhaps he could work this to his favour, perhaps he could make those pathetic little sheep believe he had drowned. Yes! Yes, all he had to do was leave enough evidence of his being here and then cross the river, letting himself drift downstream before he climbed out the other side. He could hide the evidence of his exit from the water easily. Yes. Of course it all depended on his ability to cross the river, but what was life if not a challenge.
The river was colder that Ffloyd had imagined though. The water bit into his skin, numbing him almost instantly. And he hadn’t bargained for the way his robes weighed him down. Fighting against the current, gasping for air, he managed to rid himself of the robes in mid-stream. The simple tunic he wore underneath was no protection from the cold and wet, and he battled against the chill that was digging deep into his bones. Eventually Ffloyd managed to cross the river and pull himself out by will power alone. All that saved him from a watery grave was his determination to survive, his need to have his revenge on Iolaus.
It was several days before Ffloyd met another person. There was a group of men in the woods hunting wild boar. Proving their manhood to each other with their wild tales of conquest and war. He stumbled into their camp one night, feverish and delirious. They were kind men, they nursed him through the fever. They fed him and gave him new clothes, and he thanked them as only he could. When he was well again he killed them all silently in the night. Laying down to sleep beside their cooling bodies.
The madness grew upon him slowly, he didn’t dare go to a town or village in the area, and he didn’t want to stray too far away from Iolaus and his bodyguard, Hercules. It hadn’t been difficult to find out where the two men had gone, Lemnos’ own men had told him. They had spent a night camped by the river, after crossing it at the bridge. They didn’t know that above them, like a snake, Ffloyd rested in the branches of a tree listening as they talked of Hercules and Iolaus. Trying to stifle his laughter as they spoke of their concern and respect for the two heroes. He gloated when one of the soldiers said that he hoped Iolaus would enjoy the fishing at the lake, he hoped that it would help him heal.
So, Ffloyd headed for the lake, and once there he spent his days spying on the men as they fished. He followed Hercules on his nightly walks, he listened to Iolaus screaming himself awake. He knew it wasn’t time yet, he wasn’t strong enough yet. But eventually Iolaus would be alone, eventually Hercules would put his guard down. And Ffloyd had all the time he needed.
On the day Hercules finally found the courage to tell his friend that Ffloyd was still alive, the subject of the conversation was watching from behind a boulder, only feet away from him. When Iolaus walked away Ffloyd followed, thinking that maybe now was the time. Perhaps his revenge was upon him. But as he followed the hunter through the woods he changed his mind. He could wait Hercules was still too close, and this was too delicious. The little man was suffering so beautifully, his pain was exquisitely etched on his face. Ffloyd was careful not to be spotted but he was sure he could have walked out in the open and Iolaus wouldn’t have seen him. Too deep in his painful thoughts. “Ah, my little man. Things are going to get so much more painful for you soon.”
Ffloyd was not a good hunter, but he managed to survive with a combination of luck and ruthlessness. He hated the berries he found but he forced himself to eat them. He hated the meat even more, especially as he did not dare start a fire. The meat was eaten raw. It was disgusting to him, but it was a means to an end. The end was Iolaus and his revenge. And to exact his revenge he had to survive, he had to husband his strength.
Some days Ffloyd could not remember why he hated the little blond so much. He didn’t know what the small man could have done to make Ffloyd so intent on revenge. But on other days he could taste the blood and the fear on his tongue as if it were fresh, and he shook with the anger that still consumed him. Iolaus had made a fool of him, Iolaus had not succumbed when he should have. Iolaus had not played the game by Ffloyd’s rules, and for that he would be punished.
Ffloyd had always been so used to getting his own way, everything he did had always succeeded in the end. Sometimes it required patience, finesse, but he prided himself on his talent for manipulation. There was not a man in any land who was immune to Ffloyd’s skills. Or at least that was what he had thought, and who had proved him wrong? Not Lemnos, a king, of strong royal blood. Not Hercules, son of the king of the gods. No, a little pip-squeak called Iolaus. A man who had looked too small and frail to even withstand the torture Ffloyd had planned. He had been prepared to hold back on the hunter, he hadn’t wanted to kill him. But he had taken everything and more. Ffloyd had ended up pushing the little man further than he had expected he could, much further. And yet; and yet, even then after Ffloyd was convinced he had him. Even then Iolaus had kept a spark of fire. He’d held on to a small little chip of his own strength, and he had thrown it in Ffloyd’s face. To Ffloyd it had been like having a cup of acid thrown in his face, and he even had the scars to prove it.
So he had waited, and as the winter passed he had begun to think that he should wait no more, he should pounce on the little man and take his chances with Hercules. But then Hercules started leaving Iolaus for a few hours at a time, and then overnight, and then for a few days. Ffloyd gloated to himself they were relaxing at last, they had decided he was dead. Finally.
Ffloyd congratulated himself on being able to keep himself hidden from the heroes for so long. It was a knack he had discovered as a child. He had never been found when playing hide and seek with the other children. But that wasn’t often. The other children didn’t like Ffloyd, they made fun of his strange ways. But behind the jeers and the laughter Ffloyd had seen fear and he had rejoiced.
Being able to hide was just one of the things the strange child had discovered about himself. He was strong, very strong, no other child would get into a fight with him, not after little Timion. No, the adults had whispered about him after that, shocked faces staring at him in the street. ‘Such a young child, and he doesn’t seem to care.’, ‘Only nine years old.’, ‘ Timion was such a sweet child, and now he’s gone.’
Ffloyd had laughed at them, Timion had been a bully, and a stupid one at that, he was no loss. What interested Ffloyd more were the little whisperings about his parents, the gossip he heard when hiding in the village - one of the lone child’s favourite pastimes. There was talk of him being the son of a god or of a demon, nobody seemed to know for sure. And his parents were weak people. Farmers with no imagination, they would not tell him. So, when the fire killed them and his two little siblings, Ffloyd had left the village and moved on, not sparing another thought for his family. After all he was the son of a god he didn’t need mortals.
It didn’t really matter to Ffloyd whether the rumours were true or not, he could be the son of Zeus or the son of a shepherd for all he cared. What did matter was the sway he held over people, the way he could twist their minds into doing his bidding. As he grew older Ffloyd practised his skills, leaving behind him a trail of heartache and misery. He spared no thought for the consequences of his actions, it was all a game to him. An experiment in humanity, how far could you push them until they broke? How much pain could a man withstand before he lost his sanity? And as he learnt the answers Ffloyd realised that he enjoyed the power it gave him.
People were, on the whole, stupid, gullible, and easy to mould. But occasionally he would meet a challenge, an individual that presented a little more difficulty. Ffloyd relished the challenge, never failing in his work, never realising that he could fail. So, as he grew bored with twisting just one man, or one family, to his desires he looked towards whole villages, towns. He became magistrate, or governor, and then when he needed yet further challenges he looked towards whole kingdoms. And eventually found Lemnos and Ossian.
Lemnos had been a challenge. It had taken years to finally get his complete trust but he had, it had been one of his proudest moments. He wished in a way that he could have taken the chance of torturing him. That would have had a far greater and faster effect, but there was Niobe to think of, and she was a difficult one.
He was proud of finally finding a human worthy of his attention too. Little thorn Iolaus had been so refreshing, that was probably why Ffloyd had been so shocked at his rebellion. Ffloyd had seen Iolaus as a kind of ally, a right-hand man, a sidekick. He had been jealous of the relationship Hercules had with the little man, he’d wanted that kind of loyalty from Iolaus for himself. He had thought he had it. Time had not been on his side with his manipulation of Iolaus, which was where the torture came in. Anything to weaken the mind, it had always worked so successfully before, his victims were willing to die for him in very short order. But not Iolaus, not the one man he had considered special enough to warrant a place in Ffloyd’s world.
So, revenge and anger were filling his head, nothing else could enter. Everything he did was a means to an end, Iolaus. He had been patient, watching, and now it was time. Hercules was asking Iolaus if he wanted to come with him to visit his brother. Ffloyd knew Iolaus would not. He had seen how the hunter was becoming claustrophobic with Hercules hovering over him all the time. He needed some time to himself, away from his big shadow, Ffloyd knew Iolaus better than anyone.
“Not this time, Herc. Say hello for me though won’t you. I think I’ll just go do a bit of hunting, I may actually catch something without you around to frighten everything away!”
Ffloyd could see Hercules’ smile, but he couldn’t interpret it. Iolaus could though, he grinned back. Herc understood that he needed to be on his own, needed to chase away the last of the demons by himself. Everything was fine. As the two men parted company Ffloyd watched and smiled, he was going to get this just right, his revenge had to be perfect. But he still didn’t consider the possibility of failure, it was not a concept he could understand. Once burned but it couldn’t happen again, not to Ffloyd.
Chapter 7
Hercules stood; still as a statue. He listened to the forest, he heard all the sounds. The animals and birds, the trees as they moved in the wind. But there was no sign that man had passed, no sign that there was another man in the whole of the forest. Hercules swayed slightly as he came out of the trance-like state. Iolaus would have been able to track them, he would have known what to do now. Hercules sighed, the forest was huge, he had no idea of where to look next. He had hoped that this ‘old hunter’s trick’ that Iolaus had once shown him would work. Desperation calling.
He remembered his reaction to the earnest expression on his friend’s face. He remembered his laughter. “Don’t tell me Iolaus, the trees talk to you!” Iolaus had given him that look of disgust and then had gone on with his explanation, as always carried away with himself. But when he had started to demonstrate the stillness required Hercules stopped laughing. The bundle of energy that was his best friend had become so still and quiet that Hercules had begun to worry about him. But then, as he watched Iolaus, he felt the power of the forest too. He began to hear sounds he’d never noticed before. He began to feel a strange connection with the place, feel the underlying rhythms of nature as she grew all around him. Iolaus had freed himself from his own trance with a laugh and an off-key burst of song. Hercules had pondered this discovery for a long time. Iolaus had depths to him that even Hercules did not always appreciate. How much of his discovery had been about hunting and how much about his friend the demi-god didn’t know. He wished he’d shown more appreciation to Iolaus of this knowledge now that he was relying on it to save the hunter’s life.
But despair washed over Hercules as he stood in the peace of the woodland. He sat at the base of a huge oak tree, safe within its roots and lent his head back looking up into the green canopy above. He closed his eyes on their beauty as he thought of Iolaus. His friend, his companion through all the trials he had been sent. Always there with a smile and a joke, always ready to fight at Hercules’ side. Always ready to die if necessary for people in distress. Iolaus was a hero. He was Hercules’ hero, and he couldn’t imagine a world without him. Wouldn’t imagine one.
The demi-god stood again, angrily looking skywards. Bellowing words of anger and fear, in desperation turning to the only other person he could, his father.
“Help me find him! Zeus! Don’t let him die like this! Not like this! Help me father! Please help me.”
Exhausted, Hercules leaned back against the tree again and as he did he heard a voice. A familiar much loved voice, light and cheerful, “It’s Okay Herc. Don’t sweat. You’ll find me, I know you will. I’ll be all right, aren’t I always?” He heard a giggle and then nothing. Hercules took a deep breath, the sound of his friend’s voice sending a bolt of pain through his heart. Whether this was from Zeus or somehow Iolaus was letting him know he was still all right, Hercules didn’t know. But he did know that he could never give up on his friend. Never.
Just then he heard hooves drumming the ground, several horses were approaching at a gallop. As Hercules moved from the shade of the tree to meet the riders he recognised the livery of the King of Corinth. Iphicles! But Hercules soon realised that his brother was not one of the five horsemen that were reigning in. He saw two men he did recognise though. Leon and Linus, both loyal soldiers, and both good hunters.
Hercules smiled and shouted a greeting, silently thanking Iphicles for his timely intervention. The soldiers were no nonsense in their approach. Their king had briefed them, they knew what they might be up against. But they respected their king and they respected his brother and friend. Leon was almost as tall as the demi-god and he looked him directly in the eye as he requested an update.
Hercules had little he could tell Leon but that did not seem to bother the man. In his wonderfully capable way he asked Hercules to tell him about the dreams,
“The king told us that you’ve dreamt of Iolaus. He said that there was reason to believe these dreams may show what is actually happening to him.”
Leon’s face was full of doubt, but his king had believed in the worth of the dreams, and he could see by the demi-god’s expression that he believed too. Whatever the truth Hercules and Iolaus had an unusual bond, it wouldn’t pay to ignore anything.
“What kind of place was he in? If you were seeing things as they really were it will help us to locate him.”
Hercules felt a huge weight lift from his chest, he had been so full of his worry and fear that he had begun to lose his common sense. These men were already bringing him back to earth.
“He was in a cave. It was quite dark, but I’m sure it was a cave.”
Linus exchanged a glance with his companion, “Good. Did it have a rocky floor or earthen or...?”
“Sand! It was sandy. I remember because Iolaus was lying on it and there were grains of sand on his face.”
“Good.” Leon turned to the rest of the men, “We’re looking for a cave with a sandy floor, so I would think it’s going to be near a river. Rest the horses and feed them and be ready in an hour.”
He turned back to Hercules, “You should get some rest too, we’re going to need you fresh if we’re going to beat this Ffloyd character.”
Hercules smiled and, grateful for the excuse, turned back to the oak tree to try and get a little shut-eye. At last feeling confident that he would find Iolaus, if only he could do it in time.
Iphicles was pacing. He’d been pacing ever since he got up that morning. He’d paced through breakfast. He’d paced through the interminably long meeting with his advisors, and now he was pacing as he listened to petitions from his subjects. He didn’t hear what they said, he wasn’t able to give them his full attention. It wasn’t right.
Abruptly he stopped his pacing, and turned to the man who’d been putting his case for the last ten minutes,
“Come back in a month’s time and I will hear your petition then. Today I have more pressing matters that crave my attention.” He turned and left the room, leaving behind him a shocked silence and a room filled with faces, mouths agape at his strange behaviour.
The royal advisors were not best pleased when Iphicles asked for his horse to be made ready. And they were downright furious when they learnt that he fully intended to ride off after his brother in search of a dangerous creature that tortured people. They protested loudly. And continued to protest for as long as it took their king to prepare himself. Then they ran after him, still protesting, as he strode to the royal stables for his horse.
At the stables the horse was waiting for him, as were two of the Royal Guard ready to ride out on this adventure of the unknown with their king. They had no knowledge of Iolaus’ plight, they’d never heard Ffloyd’s name. But they knew Iphicles was going into a possibly dangerous situation and they would protect him to the death.
Iphicles left the palace without a backward glance, hoping that he wasn’t too late to help his brother. His advisors stood watching him shaking their heads at this folly. Secretly admiring their king for this demonstration of love for his brother and his need to help him.
Iolaus could still hear Ffloyd’s voice talking more to himself than to his captive audience. The hunter laughed grimly at the irony; his tormentor was oblivious to Iolaus his wrists were no longer manacled. He should be free, walking out of the cave into the bright spring air, but instead he lay helpless under the unfeeling hand of Ffloyd. He felt so weak his mind was disassociating itself from his body. The pain had receded, but he knew that was not a good sign it meant his body was close to giving up. His lips were dry and beginning to crack, his mouth parched. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
The hunter tried to work out how long he’d been held in the cave, but it was difficult. It took all his strength to concentrate and then his mind would drift again, floating away serenely. Why fight any longer? Why deny himself peace? But Iolaus was a fighter. He knew he mustn’t give in, even if he couldn’t always remember why. Absently he wondered how Ffloyd could talk so long without water.
“What are you?”
His voice rasped with the dryness of his throat. Iolaus hadn’t expected an answer, but Ffloyd heard him. He turned his head to look down on his little thorn and smiled. The madness on the surface now, no longer being held back by the man Ffloyd had once been. That man was dead and forgotten. Rubbing the palm of his hand over the beard on Iolaus’ cheek he smiled again,
“What am I? I am the bastard son of some unknown creature. Maybe god, maybe demon. It came calling on my mother and she let it in. I don’t know how it fooled her, but it wouldn’t have been too difficult. The gods know why it would have bothered with her. But here I am. What am I? I’m Ffloyd. Yes I am, my lovely little thorn. I have grown rather fond of you, did you know that? Hmmm, yes very fond.”
Ffloyd looked over the body that lay before him, frowning slightly. He took in the bruises and the pale skin, he noticed the way Iolaus’ ribs were beginning to show, and he saw the cracked and dry lips. He shook his head,
“This won’t do. This won’t do at all. I don’t want you dead! Not for a long time yet. I’m not nearly done with you yet. Now then, I’ll have to go and get us some food and water, and a little kindling for a fire. Do I have to put the manacles back on you? Or can you be a good boy?”
Iolaus tried to raise enough saliva in his mouth to speak, “Whatever I say will be wrong. If I say ‘no’ you’ll think I’m faking how bad I’m hurt. If I say ‘yes’ you’ll know I’m lying. I’m tired, Ffloyd. I’m tired of your games. I’m not going to play anymore.”
“Well, well, my little puppy has turned from its mother at last! I trust you Iolaus, I trust that you know me well enough by now not to try and fool me. Oh, my little terrier, you continue to amaze me!”
Iolaus looked up at Ffloyd who was moving to get up,
“Is that how you see me? Your pet, your little golden puppy? Because don’t begin to think that I am. I don’t belong to anyone, I never have and I never will!”
Ffloyd just smiled and left the cave. The exertion of his little outburst left Iolaus breathless and frighteningly close to passing out. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Hercules had better remember that it was ‘his job’ to rescue Iolaus, before there was nothing left to rescue.
Iolaus didn’t know how much time had passed before Ffloyd returned with water and food. A fire blazed on the other side of the cave, Iolaus hadn’t seen it being built or lit. He sipped carefully at the water Ffloyd offered him, retching was not something he wanted to put his abused body through right now. The water stayed where it belonged and Ffloyd brought him some kind of broth and fed him carefully. The stuff tasted disgusting but any nourishment was like ambrosia to Iolaus. Again he was careful not to eat too quickly or take too much. Once he had finished Iolaus lay his head back on the sand that had been his only pillow for far too long.
Experimentally he tried to curl the fingers of his right hand, he could feel them move slightly, but he also felt the bolt of pain that shot through his shoulder. He knew that both his shoulders were probably dislocated, but he kept hoping that if he left it a while he could move his arms just a bit. His sharp intake of breath alerted Ffloyd, who came back to the corner of the cave and squatted down by Iolaus,
“Oh, my little thorn....damn...” he spat. His tongue was still swollen and painful and throughout the long tale he had told, he had kept spitting and gently prodding it with his fingers.
“Where was I? Oh, yes. My little thorn, my little diminutive friend. Hercules’ puppy dog, who ran round and round in circles for the big fool. You’re a fool too Iolaus. It pains me to say that, but you are. Your faithful following of such a one as Hercules is not something to be admired. Pitied perhaps.” Ffloyd spat again, and took a sip of water.
Iolaus took the chance to speak,
“They’re just words Ffloyd. So much hot air. Call me what you like, we’ll both know the truth. We’ll both know the words mean nothing.”
“Who’re you trying to convince ‘little man’, me or you? Because I don’t think you quite believe that. Words stilled Hercules’ fist. They stopped him in his tracks. They confused you so much that you were willing to kill for me. Or had you conveniently forgotten that?”
“I could never forget that Ffloyd. But I’ve already told you I’m finished with your games, they’re no fun.”
Iolaus turned his head away from Ffloyd, effectively dismissing him. It was a gamble, he really didn’t think he could survive another of those rages. But the gamble paid off, he could hear Ffloyd moving away from him. At least for a while he could have a little peace, some respite from those annoying fingers. Iolaus let himself drift, feeling a little stronger from the broth. Whatever it had been made from it had certainly been nourishing.
Linus eased his horse between the close growing trees towards his Captain,
“Sir. The horses can’t travel through this terrain. We’re going to have to leave them.”
Leon sighed and nodded. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the horses, if they found Iolaus he would probably be in need of one of them to take him to safety. But there was Hercules, he could carry Iolaus if necessary. The demi-god had kept up with the fast pace the horses had set. He was seemingly tireless, but the Captain had noticed the strain on Hercules’ face, he knew the toll this forced march was taking. He was only envious of the friendship Hercules must share with Iolaus to be forcing himself to the edge of his endurance and beyond for him.
Leon had good friends, but none like this. None that would endure a living Tartarus for him. He sighed again, Iolaus was a great warrior and a hero to a lot of people, but what he was to the demi-god was even more important. If they were to fail, if they were to find Iolaus too late, what would that mean for Greece? They would have nobody to defend them. Hercules would be lost. The captain was no fool, he could read a man’s face, and the face of the son of Zeus told him that they ‘must’ find Iolaus alive. They ‘must’ save him.
He ordered the men to dismount and arranged for one of them to stay with the horses. There was no way of knowing how long they would be and they would need the horses again. They must be fed and watered and protected from any predators. He left explicit instructions with the soldier, and the remaining men moved out. They spread out across the woodland moving carefully and quietly. Trying not to miss any sign that Iolaus or Ffloyd had been that way. Heading towards the sound of a river, hoping that they would find the cave the demi-god had seen in his dreams.
Hercules was so tired, he was dreaming on his feet. He was barely aware of the soldiers as they sent quiet signals to each other. He didn’t hear the birds as they chattered away in the green canopy above him. He didn’t notice the deer as they watched him from their hiding place in the undergrowth, he only dimly saw the ground before each foot as he put it down.
The dream was the same as before, yet somehow different. Iolaus still lay on the sandy soil, he was still naked, still in pain. Ffloyd was still there too, showing madness in his eye and his movements. But, there was something new. Something was different, and Hercules couldn’t grasp what it might be. Then it hit him, Iolaus’ arms were free, they lay beside him, unmoving. But that wasn’t it either.
It was in the way Iolaus looked at his captor, and in the way Ffloyd looked back. Iolaus may be helpless on the ground. His body may be of no use to him, but he was somehow in command. Hercules felt his heart leap in his chest. Ffloyd looked beaten, his madness a trap now instead of a power. And Hercules could hardly believe it, but Ffloyd looked scared of Iolaus, instead of the other way around. The man who had the sword and the dagger stood in fear of the man with nothing. Hercules laughed, pride in his brother big in his heart.
Linus, walking next to Hercules, asked a quiet question, and was puzzled by Hercules’ reply.
“Iolaus has him, Linus. He’s got the better of him again! We’re going to get there in time, he’s given us the time we need.”
Hercules beamed across at the confused soldier and lengthened his stride. For the first time in days he felt energised, alive, ready to take on the world. He gave no consideration to the possibility that his dream was only his own desperate hope. He never thought that it could be wrong.
Chapter 8
Hands gently raised his head and put a bowl to his cracked lips. He swallowed the warm liquid that filled his mouth, somehow knowing that it was good for him. Iolaus felt better than he had, his mind wasn’t wandering alarmingly any more. And whilst he still couldn’t move his arms, he felt in control. Something that he hadn’t felt for a long time. He looked up at the familiar face of his nightmares, wondering where the fear had gone. The face had changed somehow, and so had his attitude towards it. Ffloyd’s mind had lost cohesion, and it showed in his eyes. That sharpness, that evil that had always lain there before, it was gone. And in its place remained only fire, angry fire. An all consuming rage that would only be satisfied by Iolaus’ screaming death.
Ffloyd could not accept defeat, and he had been defeated, twice now by Iolaus. He could not accept it, and he could not understand it. But he still had the power. Iolaus was still physically helpless. His only weapons his voice and the expression in his eyes. The hunter held little hope that he could use these weapons as well as Ffloyd had been able to. But he did have hope, if Ffloyd could find chinks in the armour every man protected his heart with, then so could Iolaus. He knew what made this man tick. He ‘knew’ what made him hurt and angry, it was enough. It had to be enough.
Ffloyd had finished feeding his captive, and his restless hands again began to explore the body under them. Caressing and stroking, an unnatural heat in the fingertips, an unnatural heat in his eyes. Iolaus knew that there would be a next step, he knew that Ffloyd wanted Iolaus’ body and soul to be his and his alone. There was only one thing else he could do to obtain that, and Iolaus was not about to let that happen. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
“You’ll never get what you want Ffloyd. I’ll never give you that.”
“And what is it I want little man?” Ffloyd smiled as he watched his own hand stroke up and down, up and down, across the pale skin of his little thorn.
“You want me, Ffloyd. You want all of me. And you don’t have it. You never will. I will never belong to you or to anyone else!”
Ffloyd’s eyes were bright in the dim light of the cave, he stopped the movement of his hand, and rested it on Iolaus’ chest.
“I want you? Yes, I suppose I do. I’ve come to be very fond of you Iolaus, very fond. Why did I want revenge on you? Oh...yes...you defied me. Nobody does that my little man, nobody is allowed to do that.”
The hand resumed its restless rhythm. Pausing as it passed Iolaus’ cracked ribs, pushing down as if to underline the words. Iolaus hissed through his teeth, the pain was still there but he ‘was’ in control. He smiled sweetly up at his captor,
“Are you sure, Ffloyd? Are you sure that’s what it’s about? Don’t you feel anything for me? Don’t you regret my not teaming up with you?” Blue eyes glinted.
Ffloyd sat back and gazed down at the man laying before him, naked, helpless, but still somehow bettering him. He purposely let his gaze roam over the naked skin, like the fingers up and down the body, up and down. But the little man’s smile did not falter. His eyes did not blink, and it was then that Ffloyd felt fear. For the first time since fleeing the castle he tasted its sickly sweetness on his tongue. His mind was reeling. This little golden man with no special abilities, no godly powers, was again besting him. But this time it was worse, this time he was using Ffloyd’s own skills against him. This time, one of his victims had learned his own art.
Iolaus watched warily. He knew that Ffloyd was fighting an internal battle, one that was dangerous to him. His body was still weak, perhaps not as weak as Ffloyd believed, but weak enough. He didn’t even want to think about what happened next. If by some miracle he could better Ffloyd, then what? He was alone out here, and ill equipped to survive for long. Iolaus shrugged off the thoughts that were trying to consume him. It was enough to think of Ffloyd. He’d worry about the rest later, when it mattered.
Ffloyd’s madness took his sense from him, his ability to reason was no more. And as he looked down at the man on the sand, he saw only his heart’s desire. He forgot the revenge. He forgot the need for ownership, he could only see his need to touch and to be close. He flattened the palm of his hand against Iolaus’ stomach, wanting contact. Always wanting contact. But those eyes, those blue eyes kept watching him. Steady, unmoving, they focused on him, somehow seeing into him. Knowing his hidden depths. Ffloyd could not bear the scrutiny, he could not bear the thought that another man would know his secrets.
“Stop that!” He screamed at Iolaus, his hands turning to claws, scraping the pale skin, turning it to blood.
Iolaus did not scream this time. This time he needed to keep silent, and so he did. It was not easy, but he had fought before and won, he would again. There was only him to do this, Hercules would do his best, but Iolaus was not one to rely on being rescued. He would always try to save himself.
He thought of Hercules with bitter-sweet pain. His friend, his family. Hercules would carry so much guilt over this. He would blame himself, even though the blame should be equally shouldered. Iolaus hoped that Hercules could live with this pain if the worst should happen. If Hercules was to find his best friend dead - like this, it would probably be enough to send him into madness. Iolaus knew his brother, he knew that danger. But he didn’t know how to protect Hercules, unless he could stop his own death from happening.
The sound of the river grew ever louder, rushing over boulders it tumbled towards the sea. And as the sound grew so did the hope in Hercules’ heart. After Linus had spoken to him, the demi-god had given himself a mental shake. He knew that he was making no sense, he knew that he had to regain his equilibrium if he was ever going to rescue Iolaus. Hercules was grateful for the help his older brother had sent him, but he knew that when it came down to it, this thing was going to be between Ffloyd and himself. He was going to have to find a way to get past the words and see the lies that they were.
The tired demi-god walked onward, never faltering. Knowing that his best friend was relying on him for his life. Nothing would stop Hercules now, nothing could. But he still feared his own failure. He had always been aware that he could fail, even though he rarely had. But where Iolaus was concerned his knowledge seemed heavier, more deadly. The thought of losing the hunter was too much to bear. How could he deal with the world when the knowledge of his failure was crushing him.
Linus walked close by Hercules. He left him to his thoughts, but glanced sideways at him every now and again. His Captain had told him to look after the big guy and he was both honoured and scared by the responsibility. He didn’t know what to say to help Hercules, and now he was beginning to understand just how special Iolaus really was. Hercules was a difficult man to read and Iolaus did it. Hercules needed a mortal for support, both in battle and emotionally. And Iolaus provided that support. How could he do that? Linus looked at the demi-god again and shivered. What would the world be like without Hercules? And just as importantly, what would the world be like without Iolaus?
Ffloyd sat quietly, staring out of the cave into the sunlit forest. Iolaus watched him, wondering if what he was about to do was a good idea. But when had that thought ever stopped him before? The hunter grinned to himself, it felt good to ‘be’ Iolaus again. Ffloyd had wrested control from him but he had it back now. If only he had the use of his arms to go along with that, everything would be just fine.
“Hey! You going to feed me any time soon? A man could starve around here.”
Ffloyd grunted and looked across at Iolaus. His expression unreadable, his eyes grey emptiness. Slowly he raised himself from the ground, stretching carefully like an old man getting out of bed in the morning. This sojourn in the cave had taken its toll on Ffloyd too. It was almost as if he was responding to Iolaus’ words automatically, not knowing what he was doing. He heated more broth and fed it to his captive without speaking, or reacting to the occasional comment that Iolaus threw at him.
When the broth was finished Ffloyd took the bowl outside, taking a water-skin to replenish at the same time. Iolaus watched him leave then took a deep breath. It was time to test his body, time to find out the worst. Slowly he stretched his legs out, and then pulled his knees up to his chest. Stiff, and sore where he’d been bitten, but otherwise all right. He twisted his hips off of the sand from one side to the other. A sharp pain entered the small of his back, but he repeated the exercise and it worked loose. That was okay too. Now here it was, the biggy. Iolaus took another deep breath and slowly tried to flex his right hand. He gasped at the pain that shot through his arm. He had managed a little movement, but the hand felt swollen and it would not do what he asked of it. He tried the same with his left hand, wincing in expectation of the pain. There was pain it was manageable, but he could not move the hand.
He turned his attention to his left arm, and tried to bend it at the elbow. Nothing happened. Iolaus chuckled to himself. This was too bizarre. What tales he could tell about this little escapade. How the famous hero had bested an evil something or other - he really would have to find out just what Ffloyd was - without the use of his arms. ‘Oh, and while you’re at it Iolaus, please let me in on the secret of how you’re going to do it.’
This was getting him nowhere, and Ffloyd would be back soon. So Iolaus concentrated on getting feeling and flexibility back into his legs and back. How it would help he didn’t quite know, not yet. But something would come to him, it always did. Well, usually - at least if it didn’t come to Hercules first.
Iolaus sighed. He really wished Hercules would hurry up and turn up. A noise just outside the cave made him start, but it was only Ffloyd returning. He looked like he had submersed himself in the river. Water was dripping from his hair and beard and his tunic was soaking wet. But the shock of the water seemed to have brought him back to the present. And this was not a good thing. Iolaus could see steel eyes narrowing as they looked down at him. He could see the smile that cracked the thin lips, and the teeth, the sharp teeth that hid behind the smile. This was definitely not good.
“So, did you have a nice paddle in the river?”
Ffloyd grinned sunnily, “Oh yes my sweet. Very nice. In fact I was thinking that perhaps you’d like to have a dip yourself. It’s so invigorating.”
Iolaus frowned up at the dripping man, “Uh, I don’t get you. How d’you expect me to...”
Realisation dawned on Iolaus’ face just at Ffloyd bent and gathered the smaller man in his arms. ‘Uh-oh! Not good, not good at all!’
“Ffloyd? You don’t want to think about this do you? I mean isn’t it a bit cold in the river?”
Ffloyd tightened his grip causing a moan of pain to escape Iolaus’ lips. He smiled as they entered the sunlight,
“You’ve been hidden away in that cave for far too long, little man. You should be out here, in the open air, and you should be clean. I’ve been remiss there.”
Iolaus screwed his eyes up against the pain of the bright light, after so long hidden away in the depths of the cave.
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m not really into all that bathing stuff anyway.”
Iolaus wanted to fight his way out of this. For some reason he didn’t believe that this was only going to be a simple dunking in a cold river. For some reason he felt like Ffloyd had something much bigger planned.
When he saw the river he understood. It was quite wide here, and flowing very fast. The noise of it had become so much a part of his world that he’d barely registered how loud it sounded. Mentally telling himself off for not noticing it properly, Iolaus looked into the centre of the river. There were boulders there, the size of men and larger. And the water that tumbled over them was coming straight off the mountain, rain water and snow melt. The mountain had seen a lot of snow that winter and it was still thawing in the spring sunshine, turning the river into a raging torrent. Ffloyd paused at the edge of the river and looked into Iolaus’ eyes,
“I will not call you little again, Iolaus. You are not little. Not in any way that matters. I should have known that. I should have seen. You bested me my friend. You bested me twice. The first time I needed revenge, I needed you to suffer. This time we shall be together. I forgot my respect for you. In my need to salve my hurt feelings I forgot just how special you are. You are better than me Iolaus, know that. Know that I recognise it now. And know that all I want is for us to be together.”
Iolaus looked up at Ffloyd in helpless horror, his left arm was painfully pinned to his side, his right hung loose, useless. His legs were still not strong enough to be of much help. He wriggled though, trying to free himself, trying to stop what he knew was coming next.
“You don’t need to do this Ffloyd. We don’t have to die. We can work something out, I know we can.”
But Ffloyd just stepped into the water’s edge. He began to move forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, towards the middle of the river. Iolaus felt the sharp shock as the first of the water slapped over his skin. Cold. Fresh from the snow-capped mountain above them. His teeth chattering Iolaus again desperately tried to wriggle free of the iron grip that held him. But still Ffloyd moved on towards the place where he would no longer be able to keep to his feet. To the place where he and Iolaus would be swept away together in the torrent of water, taken away from a world he could no longer master. To death with the only person he had ever cared for, the man whom he now accepted was his better.
Chapter 9
They had reached the river. Hercules and his companions stood silently watching the rush of water over huge glacial boulders. If Iolaus was on the other side they would not be able to cross here.
“Up stream or down stream?” Linus asked. Looking first in one direction then the other. He could see no clues as to which way they should follow.
Hercules stood and stared at the water, so different from the calm of the lake all those months ago. He took his time to think, this decision could mean the difference between life and death for the best friend he had ever known - would ever know. He could not let the responsibility rest with the other men, and he could not make the wrong choice. Silently he prayed to his father for the strength he needed. The kind of strength that didn’t come so readily to him. He had inherited his muscular strength from his divine parent, but his mental strength, that all came from his mother. He thought of her now, and wondered what her choice would be. ‘What would Iolaus say, son. He’s the one with all the old hunter’s tricks isn’t he? What would he say?’
Hercules smiled. Who needed the gods when you had a mother to turn to. He pointed upstream. “That way! We’re more likely to come across caves in the higher reaches, and it’s sandier there too. Look.”
He pointed to a small stretch of sand that formed a beach almost out of their sight. Leon nodded his agreement and the group started picking their way through the boulders that were strewn in their path.
Iolaus teeth would not stop their chattering. The water was turning his limbs to ice, the numbness was spreading. But he knew that if he was feeling numb then so was Ffloyd. He tried one last desperate attempt to free himself before Ffloyd let them both be dragged under. The water was powerful, but he fancied his chances more without Ffloyd’s arms pinning him down.
Ffloyd was feeling numb, his limbs were unresponsive, so wa