He pulled up the wheat stalk and crushed it between his fingers, absentmindedly letting the dust blow away in the hot wind. In his entire field, not a stalk showed green. His crop had withered, despite his best effort to haul water from the spring below. Weary in every muscle, Iolaus closed his eyes and tried to recall his field in the warm early summer. Green shoots had pushed up through the soil, his soil, giving promise of growth. Now the dry wind, the evil wind was blowing it all away, mocking his desperate attempt to save his crop. It was time to leave...
He couldn't remember much of last winter, except that Hercules seemed to be on his doorstep every day with word of a rampaging war lord, some plundered village, rumors of monsters. Hercules would stand at his fire, warming his hands for a while, talking of nothing in particular. But sooner than later, he would sit down to tell Iolaus of another plea for help. So many cold days they had trudged off before dawn, boots cracking through the frost, uncaring stars burning in the icy air. Sometime in that coldest month when the sun barely rises, when one village saved had blended into the next and home seemed a blurry dream, the idea came to him. He had hoarded his dinars, measured out a field, and purchased seed. And he had told no one, not even Herc. Why had that seemed important? Why was any of it important? It was only wheat, after all. Just another failed crop in a province filled with dead crops. So why did this day feel so much like surrender? Dropping the hoe he had been leaning on, Iolaus went to his house to pack a few belongings and head over to Hercules' place.
He had no choice, now that his spring had dried up. Day by day, the pool had shrunk until only green scum covered the cracking mud on the bottom. All through the long summer months, no rain had fallen. The cold winds of autumn were weeks away, yet the trees already stood covered with brown, curling leaves. There would be only a small harvest this year, little game in the forests, and no crops stored away for the starving months. Iolaus sat in his house, gazing around the familiar room, trying to decide what to take, what to leave, knowing it might be months before he would return. He packed a few clothes, the rest of his food, his sword. He would have to sharpen his sword. The long walk stretched before him, he needed to leave, and still he sat. Afternoon shadows were becoming twilight before he walked away, leaving the door standing open.
His first knock on Herc's door got no response, so Iolaus knocked louder and waited again. After a bit, the door opened and Hercules sleepily looked him over. "What's wrong? Is something wrong? I was asleep. You okay?"
Iolaus shrugged his pack off his shoulder. "Yeah, but my spring dried up. I'm out of water. Could I stay here for a while?" Hercules yawned and moved aside so Iolaus could enter. "Sure, of course, you know you're welcome. You had anything to eat?" Iolaus, still standing in the doorway, shook his head. "I don't want to trouble you..." he trailed off.
"Well, come in or stay out, but close the door." Iolaus slowly walked inside, piled his pack and sword onto the table, then stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. Hercules, yawning again, pushed him down onto a chair, poured a mug of wine, and handed it to him. "Here, you look like you need this. I've never known your spring to fail. So I guess the wheat crop is gone, too."
Iolaus sniffed at the wine, then took a healthy gulp. "How did you know about the wheat?" Hercules put a loaf of bread on the table and stuck a knife in it. "I walked over one day to your place when you weren't there. Guess you were out hunting. So much work, just to have it dry up and blow away. I would have helped, you know."
"I know. It was something I needed to do by myself." As the wine took hold, his shoulders slumped and he leaned forward on the table. Pulling out the knife, he cut off a chunk of bread and began chewing it. "I wanted...I needed to get something in the ground, grow something. I don't know how to explain it, Herc." He stared into the wine as though the right words would appear in its depths. "Ah, it's all jumbled up in my mind."
"Finish the wine and get some sleep, my friend. Things will look clearer in the morning." Hercules pulled extra bed covers out of a chest. "You don't look like you believe me."
Iolaus picked up his sword, balancing it in his hand, feeling the weight of the cold metal. "You know what the drought means. We'll be lucky if the entire province isn't at war before winter is over."
"Iolaus, it's late and you're tired. We can talk in the morning." Hercules returned to his bed, with Iolaus' words running through his mind. Famine and war - he didn't need an oracle to predict that dark future.
Jason put his chin in the palm of his hand and carefully spread his fingers up to cover the massive yawn, not that either of the two old fools in front of him was paying the least bit of attention. Their tedious argument had lasted most of the morning and Jason had long ago lost track of the thread of their disagreement. They had begun with a dispute over a piece of grazing land, escalated into accusations of cattle thievery, and now, amazingly, they were threatening to invade each other's estates. Jason had listened patiently; he could not afford to offend either of these powerful men, but maybe it was time to end the dispute. He cleared his throat and stood. The two men fell silent, turning to him, awaiting his judgment. Each man was certain that he had prevailed before the regent. Eager eyes searched Jason's face for clues of his decision.
"Gentlemen...."Jason paused for full effect. "Let's eat." Several courses of rich food later, washed down with the palace's best wine, and the two former enemies were now hanging on each other's necks. Jason craftily allowed them to work out the details of the dispute between themselves and they left the palace praising the wisdom of his judgment. With a weary sigh, Jason bowed to the crown resting on the throne, acknowledging his place as regent only, and left the throne room.
His frown had disappeared by the time he reached Alcmene. He took her into his arms and began hungrily kissing her. Surprised by the passion in his embrace, she pulled away, smiled at him, and said, "Jason, it's the middle of the day." He shook his head and pulled her to him again. "No, my dear, it is the end of my day. I couldn't bear to hear one more dispute." Iphicles had appointed him as regent while he fought a minor revolt in the north, but the campaign had stretched on for months with no end in sight. Jason was tired of the palace intrigues, tired of the petty bickering between his subjects, tired of sitting in Corinth while the real action was up north. "Any news from Iphicles?" He immediately regretted the question as a shadow fell across Alcmene's face.
Alcmene felt the small surge of fear press on her heart. She knew the war was not going well, but so far, Iphicles had not requested any help. He was so proud, her younger son; this was his first campaign as king and he would not want to ask for advice. She had lost one husband in war; she didn't want to lose her son as well. Alcmene had ceased praying to the gods; she had experienced their cruel, uncaring natures firsthand. She was left only with a vague wish that peace would come soon, that Iphicles would return to Rena and her only grandchild. Jason stood before her now, but she knew he ached with the need to fight the war himself. Hercules was sure to follow. Unbidden tears fell down her cheeks and she turned from Jason, unwilling to let him see her cry. "You'll both go if he asks you." Jason nodded and folded her into his arms, brushing her tears away. She clung to his warmth, needing to feel him near her, not willing to let him go just yet. His kisses, gentle at first, once more grew demanding and she allowed herself to be guided to their bed.
"Hercules, you should be over this. They are married, you know. Jason just wasn't expecting us this soon. Obviously..." Iolaus could not stop grinning at his friend's deep embarrassment. Alcmene's serving girl, Xephia, had gone into the private chamber to announce their arrival and returned laughing a few moments later. "The regent and his lady are otherwise occupied," she had grandly announced, but her knowing wink at Iolaus was all the encouragement he had needed.
"Yes, but it is the middle of the afternoon," Hercules had finally blustered out. "They shouldn't be, shouldn't be...well, you know."
Iolaus plopped down in one of the palace's deeply cushioned chairs. "I should take one of these home. I don't think Jason and Alcmene would notice, do you? Especially not right now..."
Hercules put up a warning finger. "We are not having this conversation." His tone was deadly serious, which only amused Iolaus more.
"You might as well sit down, Hercules. We could be waiting for hours."
Hercules stalked over to Iolaus and grabbed him by the shoulder. "We are not having this conversation. Understood?"
Nodding slightly, Iolaus slipped out of his grip and wandered out of his reach. "Days..."
"Iolaus, enough."
"Weeks..."
"Iolaus, it's my mother we are talking about."
"Yes, and what were you saying about me?" Unnoticed, Alcmene had quietly entered the room. Hercules spun around, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet. Frantically, he fumbled to put words together. Smiling at Hercules over his shoulder, Iolaus led Alcmene to a chair. "Your son is trying to say how happy we are that palace life is agreeing with you. And how he doesn't worry anymore since you and Jason moved back to the palace. Isn't that what we were discussing, Hercules?"
"Iolaus, you are absolutely the worst liar in Corinth, but thanks for trying." Alcmene summoned her serving girl and ordered wine and food for them. After Xephia had brought the tray and left the room, Alcmene poured them both a glass of wine. "So today is the council of war." Hercules started to protest, but Alcmene held up a hand to quiet him. "Please don't lie to me and pretend you just decided to visit. I know the war drags on. Winter will find Corinth without its king. The countryside is drought stricken and restless. Jason has written to Iphicles and offered to help, hasn't he?"
Hercules and Iolaus exchanged a guilty look. "Jason didn't want to worry you," Hercules began to explain, but his mother stopped him. "Jason has been ready to travel north and join Iphicles for months. I don't know how he restrained himself this long. And you two, you never stop fighting. Iolaus, look at your arm that I stitched up. It has barely had time to heal. And you," she turned to Hercules, "always protecting someone in trouble. Is there no one else who could help? Can't my family have just a little peace? Why are you always so ready to leave the ones who love you?" Alcmene looked from Hercules to Iolaus and back. Her eyes glistened with angry, unshed tears.
"Well, maybe I should leave you two to talk." Iolaus put down his wine glass and started for the door, but Hercules stopped him with a look. He went to his mother's side and took her hand, gently trying to explain, "Now, Mother, that's not fair," he started, but Alcmene was in no mood to be cajoled. She jerked her hand out of his grasp and walked away. "No. What is not fair is having to wait day after day for word from the war. Wondering if the men that you love are still alive. Whether your child will be left fatherless. Ask me. Ask Rena, what is fair."
"Alcmene, I asked them to come. If you are going to be angry, be angry with me." She turned towards Jason, but stood motionless when she saw the papyrus roll in his hand. "So Iphicles has finally sent for your help." Jason nodded, uncertain what else to say to his distraught wife. "I will leave you to plan your campaign then. I hope that you cover yourselves with glory once again. But mostly, I hope that you all live to tell me about it."
For long moments after she left, no one had anything to say. Finally, Iolaus took Iphicles' letter from Jason, read it, and handed it to Hercules. In the mean time, Jason unrolled a large map of the besieged city and began adding the lay out of the opposing forces. Hours later, after discussing Iphicles' tactics and proposing changes to them, Hercules and Jason left Iolaus still studying the war map. More troops, more horses, more supplies would follow them north to the walled city of Daras.
Iolaus poured one last glass of wine and sat staring into the fire, too tired to think about sleep. A festival, it was a festival that had taken them to Daras several years ago. The city was smaller than Corinth, not as prosperous, but the festival had been noisy and fun. And there had been...Iolaus tried to remember the girl's name. Oh well, it was a while ago. He finished the wine, then sat drowsing in his chair, trying to decide if the walk to his room was worth the trouble so close to dawn.
Suddenly, a slight noise brought him to his feet, lurching for the sword that had been holding down one corner of the war map. He grabbed the hilt, swung around, and found himself facing an amused Alcmene. Iolaus slowly put his sword down by his side. "Damn, you startled me. What are you doing here?" Alcmene threw the blanket she was holding into his chair. "I see you are ready for the battles to come. Did you really think I was the enemy sneaking up on you? Jason said he had left you in here. We do have beds, Iolaus."
He laughed and threw his sword back on the table. "That chair is more comfortable than the floor at your son's house, which is where I've been sleeping since my spring dried up. I had a field of wheat, too, but the drought took that as well. Nothing left for me except the one thing I do seem to be good at - fighting. You were right earlier. I just don't know what to do about it."
"Iolaus, no, I shouldn't have said those things. Not when you must leave to fight. I just wanted all of you to understand how hard it is being left behind. Rena and I don't have the excitement, the grand adventure ahead. All we can do is wait and worry."
Iolaus looked at her sideways, a sly half grin on his face. "Yeah, I worry about me, too. I'm not sure I could survive being dead again." Her only response was a sad smile that did not reach her eyes. "Oh laugh, Alcmene. We will all come back and probably in one piece."
His brave words did little to calm her. "Iolaus, you should never promise what you cannot know." She hesitated, but needing to find some peace of mind in this sleepless night, she finally said, "I have no right to ask, but...will you...please... try to protect them?"
He walked to the window to watch the sun's first rays climb above the horizon. "I always have, Alcmene." He turned and gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile. "So, when's breakfast?"
Another day, another interminable day in this dusty camp and Iphicles felt he would surely go mad. The same view had greeted him each morning for months - the stone walls of Daras, the wooden gates of Daras, and all over the surrounding plain, his army, drawn into siege lines. A simple campaign, a little intimidation, and the city would capitulate. That had been the plan; what in the name of Hades had gone wrong?
He had yet to even meet his enemy, the warlord Tirnavos, face to face. Once a week, just to break the monotony Iphicles had guessed, the city gates opened and out rode his herald under a truce flag. Iphicles received him politely, dismissed his terms politely, fed him, and sent him back to the warlord. Week by week, both the rider and his horse had gotten a little thinner. Tirnavos would not meet him directly, would not even show himself on the walls. Sometimes in the killing heat of midday, Iphicles imagined he was fighting a phantom being - one who had imprisoned hundreds of men in an unchanging place and time, but the sun, the drought, and the grit in his food were all very real. Jason's frequent letters from Corinth had confirmed that the entire province was suffering. The countryside was emptying into the city as crops failed and people tried to survive as best they could. He should be home dealing with the drought, preparing for the coming winter.
Tirnavos must have planned this rebellion for years. Jason's rule had weakened while he was dealing with the demons of his past; he had almost lost the throne of Corinth to his own greedy advisors. Iphicles had decided that it must have been during this time that Tirnavos saw his opportunity to establish his own kingdom. When Jason had surrendered his throne for the love of Alcmene, the transition gave the warlord more precious time to stockpile food and arms. By the time Iphicles had demanded and not received the expected homage and tribute, Daras was well provisioned behind its walls. Those damn walls. In his mind, Iphicles scaled the walls, battered down the gates, and took the city without mercy.
His army's commanders had argued for a full scale assault, and at first, Iphicles had been ready to crush Daras and establish his control. And yet, he had not wanted to begin his reign by destroying one of his own cities. Perhaps it was the sight of Rena holding their son that had softened him. Perhaps it was Jason's advice to be patient in dealing with the rebels that had convinced him to lay the siege instead. Now months later with no movement towards peace or war, with winter approaching and famine threatening his kingdom, Iphicles knew he had to make a decision. With great reluctance, he wrote to accept Jason's offer to help, knowing Hercules would accompany him. His brother, his famous monster destroying, half mortal, half god brother was sure to come, full of advice, ready to point out his mistakes. Iphicles could hardly wait.
The young boy pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. At first, the chilly damp had been a welcome contrast to the city. Even in the middle of the night, heat radiating from the sun baked stones had warmed him as they hurried through the dark streets. But in this dank cavern, far below the walls of Daras, the cold had settled into his bones until he began to shiver. Soon his mother would return to his side and they could leave this gloomy place. Mermerus tried to think brave thoughts, tried to keep up his spirits. But Hecate's temple was a scary place, even if he was almost seven years old, and the smell of freshly drawn blood always gagged him. The sounds that came to his ears were faraway and muffled, but he heard the dying struggles of lambs. Soon the scent of bitter herbs reached him, mingled with the hot wax of candles and scorched flesh. Low incantations floated through the air, the words indistinct, although he could just make out his mother's voice. He tried so hard not to cry.
She watched with satisfaction as the blood slowly poured across the ancient stone altar. Her left hand still held the sacrificial knife; its blade glowed in the torchlight where the blood had not stained its bright surface. Three flawless lambs she had slaughtered; now she turned to her store of plants gathered under the light of a waning moon - herbs that sapped strength, roots that clouded judgment, plants that brought slow death day by day. She dipped their roots and branches in the slowly drying blood, then carried the bundle three times three round Hecate's altar. Piling up branches from a lightning blasted cedar tree, she ignited her gifts to the night goddess. As she bathed in the smoke, incantations poured from her mouth; her hatred feeding her need for vengeance. Hecate's dark power flowed into her, surrounding her heart with an old accustomed chill. She reveled in her newly renewed strength. With her encouragement, Tirnavos, that timid old fool, had occupied Daras. The drought she had created and sustained would make the Corinthians desperate. The unending siege would draw Jason near to her; his pride would never allow the loss of part of his kingdom. Soon, very soon, everything he loved that still lived would live no more.
Billowing clouds of dust rolled over the camp long before the sentinels spotted the troops arriving from Corinth. Iphicles rode out to meet the group at the head of the procession, genuinely glad to see them after so many months away. Jason handed him letters from Rena and smiled to see Iphicles carefully tuck them away for a more private moment. He shook hands with Hercules, glad to see Iolaus had come as well. Several hours later, they had reviewed his siege lines, ridden around the walls of Daras, and returned to the tent that served as his headquarters. Impatiently, Iphicles waited for the criticism to begin.
Jason bent his head over a scroll, puzzled by the herald's offer. "And the terms never change?" Iphicles wearily shook his head. "Week after week, he presents me with this same impossible demand - 'Return to Corinth. Tirnavos now rules the city.' Always the same and no room to negotiate. Tirnavos must know he cannot stay behind those walls forever. His food supply must be running low, even if his water holds out. He won't come out to fight, he won't negotiate. I am at a loss to understand what he is up to."
Throwing down the scroll, Jason asked, "So, what do we know about this warlord? Where did he come from? Hercules, have you heard of him before this?" Hercules shook his head and looked over at Iolaus, who thought for a while, then shrugged. "The only Tirnavos I ever met up with was a small time bandit near Athens. He wouldn't take on the power of Corinth. What? Hey, let go of me."
Jason had stormed across the tent, grabbed Iolaus, and was trying to choke him. Jason shouted questions, not allowing Iolaus any time to answer: "When were you in Athens? What were you doing there? Answer me."
Iolaus knocked his hands away and backed up. Slowly, with an unmistakably threatening look, he reached towards his sword. "Don't you ever grab me ever again. Damn it, Jason. What is wrong with you?" But Jason, seemingly not hearing the warning in Iolaus' voice, came at him again, until Hercules stopped him. "Well, what were you doing in Athens?" Jason was yelling uncontrollably now.
Hercules held Jason with one hand and shoved Iolaus out of the tent with the other. "Get lost till he calms down. We'll try to talk some sense into him. Go on, get out of here."
Iolaus stood dumbfounded as Jason tried again to escape Hercules' grip. "Get out of here, Iolaus," he repeated. "I'll come find you." Hercules pulled Jason over to a chair and forced him to sit, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder in case Jason tried to lunge away. When he looked back, Iolaus had disappeared from view. "Iphicles, get him some water. Maybe he's just had too much sun today."
As the fight went out of him, Jason seemed to age in front of their eyes. Ashen-faced, he took the water with shaking hands and slowly drained the cup. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes for a moment, then seemed to gather strength from an inner reserve. With Hercules watching warily, he stood and slowly walked to the tent flap, staring at the gates of Daras. "It's her. What have I gotten us all into?" Hercules was shocked to see the torment in Jason's eyes, then with one word, he understood. "Medea. Medea is here."
Hercules stopped and turned in a complete circle, scanning the horizon. "Damn it, Iolaus. When I said get lost, I didn't mean it literally." Hercules had been searching for his friend for hours and he was almost ready to start shouting his name as foolish as that made him feel. At least he had gotten a closer look at the troops camped around Daras; the soldiers seemed heartened by the arrival of reenforcements. A few who recognized him shouted their approval that he had finally joined the fight. After months of inactivity, they were eager to storm the city and go home. In the back of his mind, Hercules wondered if his prideful friend had decided to leave as well.
At least the setting sun brought some relief from the day's heat. Hercules sat in the shade of a grove of trees, uncorked his water pouch, and took a long drink. From high above his head, a raspy voice floated down through the leaves. "Hey, don't drink all of it. I'm parched." Hercules watched as Iolaus shinnied down the tree, then passed him the water. Flopping down on the ground, Iolaus drank thirstily. An uncomfortable silence grew between them, until Hercules ventured to ask, "So, where have you been since...?"
Iolaus laughed bitterly. "Since Jason tried to snap my neck? Oh, here and there. First, I spent a good long while trying to convince myself to not leave."
Hercules had never known Iolaus to quit in the middle of a fight, but he supposed there could be a first time. Jason had certainly given him enough cause. "And what did you decide?"
Another laugh. "I'm here, aren't I? So then I went looking for a way to get a spy into Daras. You can see most of the city from the top of these trees." Hercules gazed up the long trunks and thought only Iolaus would have dared climb so high. "I'll take your word for it. Did you find a way in?" More silence before Iolaus let out a long breath. "So what happened back there?"
"Jason thinks Medea is behind the war. He thinks she's here."
Iolaus sat up abruptly. "Medea? Medea is dead. She went to Athens after she murdered their children and married king what's his name...Aegeus. How he convinced himself to bed that murdering bitch, I'll never know. But she died a couple of years ago, didn't she? Before Jason married...um....your mother. Herc, that would mean they aren't really..."
Hercules had to laugh at the look on Iolaus' face. "Don't worry. Jason had divorced Medea long before he met my mother." Iolaus was insistent, arguing, "But I remember hearing she was dead. I'm sure I drank a toast to the news."
"Jason's convinced himself that she's alive and here and that she still has some power over him. He thinks that's why he attacked you when you mentioned Athens."
Iolaus said doubtfully, "I don't know about that. It doesn't make sense. That's the second time he's come after me, you know. Sooner or later, he's gonna get lucky."
Hercules laughed and got up. "I'm sure you can keep dodging Jason, old man, and besides he was poisoned before, same as you. Medea was a powerful sorceress and might be trying a spell on him now. We won't know anything until we get a spy inside the city." He waited a while, and when Iolaus had made no move to leave, finally asked, "So are you going back with me?"
Iolaus got to his feet and took another long drink of water before answering. "You think that's a good idea? How will I know what will set him off? What if he has a sword in his hand next time?"
"If Medea is around, none of us is safe. Her hatred will destroy anything it touches. Jason has already sent a messenger to Corinth to warn Alcmene and Rena. Had you thought about them?"
A disbelieving Iolaus stood frozen in place. "No, she wouldn't dare...harm them. Listen to me. Of course she would. She killed her own children. Hercules, what are you waiting on?" Iolaus took off at a run towards the headquarters tent. Hercules silently laughed as he sped up to match his rapid pace. "Well, I was waiting on you to make up your mind," he thought, but never said the words.
Iphicles glared at his brother. He'd been waiting for his interference, waiting for the suggestions, the subtle implications that he wasn't up to the job of winning this war. "Of course, I sent spies into Daras. Do you think I'm a fool or incompetent or what? They came back all right. In pieces. Thrown over the wall like so much garbage. I lost three of my best men. Any other bright ideas, brother?"
Iolaus stood between the two men, feeling, and not for the first time, that he was standing in a hole. He tried playing peacemaker. "King Iphicles, all Hercules is suggesting is a trip inside the walls to find out if Medea is really here and I volunteer to go. I know the city. It makes the most sense for me to be the one to go in." Both men angrily turned towards him and he had to consciously think to not duck.
"No, not by yourself." Hercules was adamant, but Iolaus was ready for him. "Look, she can't anticipate me. I'm not from the royal house. Maybe she won't feel my presence or whatever it is she does. I can be in and out before anyone knows I'm there. And besides, I found the way through the wall. Remember?"
For once, Iphicles agreed with his brother. "My spies weren't from the royal house either and they were all captured. She or whoever didn't let them die right away, Iolaus. They were horribly tortured first. Do you want to risk that?"
"No, I don't want to risk that, but we have no choice. Besides Hercules can tell you that I'm good at this spy stuff. Both of you are just too..." Iolaus searched for an acceptable word. "Noticeable."
Iphicles hesitated. Leading men into battle was one thing, but he had no desire to send Iolaus to a certain death if he were captured as a spy. They were waiting for a decision; never had the weight of his office been so heavy. His brother nodded almost imperceptibly and that settled it. "All right. You have one day to find out what is going on inside those damn walls. After that, my troops storm the gates at dawn." He left to tell Jason and his commanders of his decision to break the siege.
Iolaus picked up his sword, walked a step or two, stopped, and without looking back, said, "Hercules, I need to tell you something before I go. Not that anything is going to happen to me, but still...I buried my wife and son on the mountain near my house. Look around a bit. You can find it. If one of the pieces that Medea throws over the wall is my heart, bury it there. Okay?" He was gone before Hercules could reply.
Iolaus put his hand up to his aching head and felt the lump. "Sticky is not good," he told himself as he wiped his hand on his vest. The passage through the wall had been smaller than anticipated and he'd had to squeeze between the fallen blocks of stone. After he had dropped his torch, he'd rammed his head into a sharp corner in the sudden darkness before he could find his flint and relight it. At least the torch had caught. He had no idea which way to go in the tunnel without it.
He held his breath to listen, but the only sounds were dripping water and the scratching of what he hoped was a small friendly creature. Getting a firmer grip on the torch, he slid along the passage, holding his sword above his head to make himself even thinner. Now that looked promising - up ahead was a gate of iron bars. He must be nearing the inner side of the wall.
The old lock was rust covered after years of hanging in the damp cave air. His sword soon pried it loose, although the noise of metal forcing metal sounded especially loud in the confined space. Wet clay served to quiet the rust coated hinges and the gate swung open without too much protest. He waited several minutes, but no one came to investigate the sounds. Even his furry friend went back to work.
A flickering ribbon of light poked across the cave floor from an opening up ahead. Iolaus put out the torch, leaving it and the flint on the ground just outside the gate. Maybe he'd get to leave Daras the same way he had come in. If his calculations were right, he should be below the edge of the market square. He ran through his story once again, just in case anyone questioned a strange face.
Holding his bare sword before him, he stepped into the dimly lit area and found himself in a vaulted room facing a huge flat stone. Scorched heaps of bones with flesh still attached lay on the ashes from countless sacrificial fires. Layers of old blood flowed down the stone's sides, pooling in the sand underneath. The air hung heavy with the remnant smell of death. In a recess to the left, lit by a single torch, stood the faceless image of the dark goddess. Dimly remembered scare stories came crowding back from his childhood - goddess of death, goddess of sorcery, unseen traveler through the night's blackest hours. For long moments, Iolaus stared at the statue. Despite the cavern's chill, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead; only the stinging in his fresh cut brought him out of his seeming trance. Another something's presence was so tangible that he glanced around to make sure he was still alone. Feeling rather foolish, he headed out the other door and up a long flight of stairs, pausing only to sheathe his sword.
Stepping out of the darkness into the market's early morning light, he breathed a sigh of relief, standing a few moments with his face towards the sun. Then letting his shoulders slump, trying to appear like anything but the warrior he was, he put on his most stupidly guileless expression and went to buy bread from one of the few open vendors. After biting his dinar, the man stared at him so long that Iolaus began to worry. "Nasty bump on your head," he finally remarked. Iolaus had forgotten all about his encounter with the stone. He giggled and shuffled his feet. "Yeah, I'm always doing stuff like that. Mass of bumps and bruises most of the time." He giggled again and stuck out his hand in a too friendly way. "Name's Joxer. Not too many people around today. I like it when there's people around."
The vendor ignored his hand. "Never is. There's a siege on or haven't you heard? Nothing to sell, nothing to buy. Don't remember seeing you around before."
Iolaus decided it was time to move along. " My mother doesn't let me come to the market too often. She says I'm always losing my money to some fast talker. You're not a fast talker, are you?"
The vendor snorted and shook his head. "Run along, you simple minded idiot. It's a wonder she lets you out the door with a weapon." Iolaus leaned towards him whispering loudly, "It's not sharp. She won't let me have anything sharp." He wandered off towards the center of town, hoping his gazing around wouldn't draw attention now that he was thought a fool. "Thank you, Joxer, wherever you are," he thought. As annoying as the would be warrior had been, Iolaus was grateful for the inspiration.
Several guards stood dispiritedly talking in front of what he took to be the warlord's residence. He ate his bread, chewing with an open mouth, then licked his fingers. Looking around the town's defenses, he noted that most of the surprisingly small garrison seemed to be stationed near the walls and gate. No one seemed to have noticed that Iphicles was preparing his attack for the next morning. Surprise and numbers were on the Corinthians' side.
Iolaus noticed one of the guards staring in his direction. He grinned back foolishly and waved, then nonchalantly walked towards the front gate. Maybe he could get someone talking about Medea. He went around the corner and didn't see the guard hurriedly enter the house.
Dust covered, exhausted from nonstop travel, Jason's messenger stood quietly, waiting for Alcmene's reply. Surprised that Jason had written so soon after leaving for Daras, she broke the wax imprints of the royal seals and scanned the page. "Xephia. Take our loyal man here to the kitchen for a well deserved meal and see that he has a room for the night." She smiled kindly at him. "And a bath. Then, quickly find Rena and ask her to join me. Please do not alarm her, but it is somewhat urgent."
Only when she was alone did Alcmene allow the fear she felt to show on her face. A name from her husband's past had returned to haunt them. He had written in careful, considered phrases about his suspicions, but between each line was an unspoken plea to join him in Daras, to bring Rena and the baby, to above all, be careful. Iphicles' postscript to the letter was clear - they both felt it was safer for the family to be gathered together near the army's protection.
Rena rushed in, steeling herself in case something had happened to Iphicles. "What news did the messenger bring? Is it my husband?" Alcmene watched Rena as she read. So young, so very young for such troubles, but when Rena lifted her head, a determined look had settled on her pretty face. "They've obviously never traveled with a baby. Leave today? It will take two days just to pack his things." Alcmene smiled at her spirited reply to such awful news. No wonder Iphicles loved her so much.
After a night of preparation and little sleep, the small caravan headed towards Daras under guard. Alcmene, Rena, and the baby rode in a wagon which would slow them down considerably, but a baby couldn't be jostled on horseback for such a distance. The slow progress unnerved Alcmene who wanted to fly to her husband's side.
Medea. Jason rarely spoke of his life with her. His favored tales were the glory days of the Argo, high sea adventures, fighting the sea monster at their first attempt at a wedding. With every retelling, the monster grew a little larger, the fight more rambunctious.
Yet, too many days she still awakened to an empty space beside her. She would find Jason staring with haunted eyes, remembering the woman he had once loved and the price of her jealousy. Slowly with words and caresses, Alcmene would bring him back to himself, back to her. She had thought his past would stay the past.
The gods had taken so much from her family. Their devious meddling had cost the lives of two women that her son had loved. She would never see his children grow up. Now Hecate's evil servant threatened her family. "Please," she prayed. "Not again." But she had no one to pray to.
Tirnavos had never really sobered up from the night before and he was already into his second cup of morning wine. Sprawling across his throne, he watched as his guard bowed, then came to whisper in his ear. "You're sure? No mistaking him for someone else? Oh yes. Medea will be very pleased. Tell her. No wait. Ask her to join me. And don't let him out of your sight." Tirnavos hurriedly finished his drink and sent the cup away. No sense risking another lecture from her. No sense trying to deal with her sober either.
Tirnavos could not believe his sudden good fortune. A seeming eternity had passed since he had agreed to use his ragtag army to capture Daras. The months of waiting had made him restless, bored with the whole idea. But just two days ago his spies brought the news that Jason himself had finally come to fight this war. Medea had been right about that - he couldn't stay away from a battle.
And this very morning his guard had recognized that friend of Hercules, what's his name, from the harvest festival a few years back. He had looked on, boasting and cheering, as Hercules defeated all comers in a wrestling match. Tirnavos doubted that he would have much to cheer about when Medea finished with him. He had hurriedly left the dungeon during her last interrogation, vomiting his meal when he reached the open air.
Sure, he'd slit his share of throats in his day, pillaged a few villages. Had to be expected in his line of work, after all, but this woman's blood lust had sickened him. Though, if her plan succeeded, the throne of Corinth would be vacant and he'd be the only ruler in this wealthy part of Greece. With such riches as the prize, what was a little torture?
Medea entered the throne room, annoyed at being summoned by the fool she had put in power. Black eyes swept over him and her lip crinkled into a sneer. "He's been drinking again, the coward. Couldn't face me without his load of wine," she thought. She would especially enjoy watching his death. "Why have you requested my presence? Have you received an offer of surrender from the Corinthians?"
He guffawed, then abruptly stopped when she didn't join in his laughter. "Medea, I have news of another spy. Hercules' friend is strolling around town even as we speak." Finally, a spark of interest in her cold eyes. "Which friend? He has so many. Everyone calls the great man their friend," she said with contempt.
"No, the man that travels with him." Tirnavos was at a loss to describe someone he had never seen. "His companion at arms. They are inseparable."
Medea's expression changed to one of keen interest. "Iolaus? Iolaus is here? Foolhardy man. I have heard tales of that one. This is wonderful news, Tirnavos. Bring him to me."
Tirnavos sunk down in his throne. "Well, we don't actually have him as yet. I was awaiting your instructions, my dear."
"My instructions, you pitiful excuse for a king? My instructions are to bring him to me now. Alive and unharmed, if possible. And from what I hear, send your best soldiers to capture him. He is an excellent fighter." She slowly ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. "I may find a use for him."
Maybe he'd just been in the sun too long. Iolaus felt a chill pass over him and decided to find a shadier part of Daras for the rest of the day. The few soldiers around had long stopped noticing his presence. One had kicked at him; mostly he was simply ignored. He'd never figured out how to bring up the subject of Medea without suspicion. "Some spy you are," he thought. "The most infamous witch in Greece and you can't even find out if she's in this city."
A second chill and Iolaus knew this wasn't the heat - he was in danger. It was time to head back and at least tell Iphicles the city should easily fall to his army. He picked up his sword, shook the sheath to make sure it would draw easily if he were attacked, and slid off the low stone wall where he had been perched. He walked back towards the marketplace, turned a corner, and found himself facing a squadron of soldiers.
Iolaus spun around to run in the other direction just as a large net was thrown over his head. Diving to the side, he tried to roll from under the net, but only succeeded in wrapping it tighter around his body. When he hit the ground, he pulled himself into a ball, waiting for the punches and kicks that never came. A guard reached through the rope and pulled his sword away. Kicking at anyone that got near him and cursing his own stupidity, Iolaus was hauled to his feet and the net unwrapped. Hands tied behind his back, guards on every side, he was marched at sword point towards the large house he had noticed earlier. Although he struggled every step of the way, none of the guards ever struck him. At first he was puzzled, then with a sickening shock he realized the truth of his situation. Medea was saving him for herself.
After the bright sunlight, it took a while for his eyes to adjust to the throne room's darkness. He could make out the two large chairs, one empty. The other held a woman clad all in black who sat watching him intently as he continued to fight the soldiers holding his arms. She nodded and another chair was placed facing the thrones. Only after he was forced to sit and his wrists chained securely to the chair did he stop struggling. Now he could make out her face - black eyes, black hair, darkness unrelieved by any color or jewelry. A once beautiful face. He could see why Jason fell in love with her long ago. She sent the guards away, leaving the two of them alone.
"You are that friend of Hercules." A statement, not a question. Iolaus simply stared at her, waiting for her to speak again. "Iolaus, isn't it?" He fought down an absurd impulse to laugh. She of all people had heard of him, knew his name. "Yes," she continued, "I have heard tales of your bravery. Hercules owes you his life. Jason as well. Don't you find it tedious rescuing all these heroes while you remain unknown?"
"Well, yes, bitch, but what's it to you?" he thought, then wondered if her sorceress tricks included reading minds. Apparently not as her expression did not change.
She stood, hesitated, then walked to the front of his chair. He tensed as she neared him, unable to look away from her glittering eyes. With one icy cold finger, she brushed back his hair, then circled the lump on his forehead. "Did my guards do this to you?"
Finally, a question he could answer. "No." He was relieved to find his voice didn't crack. She waited for further explanation, but he remained silent. She gently stroked his cheek, then cupped his chin in her hand and forced his face to turn up. Iolaus waited for her next question, determined not to jerk away from her touch. She bent down till her face was even with his, leaned towards him, and placed her lips on his. Her other hand trailed down, stopping briefly at his waist, then slowly moving up his arm to his shoulder. With a soft sigh, she stopped kissing him, moving her lips to beside his ear. "How I have missed having a warrior's body next to mine," she whispered. "I can give you all the fame you desire. Abandon your loyalties, join me, and we will rule Corinth together."
Swallowing his revulsion, Iolaus slightly turned his head, found her lips again, and kissed her deeply. Perhaps he could buy some time if he seemed interested in her offers. "Free my wrists, Medea, if you truly want a warrior's body. And we will talk about ruling Corinth...afterwards."
She stood, walked a few steps away, staring at him, coming finally to a decision. "Are you an honorable man, Iolaus? Will you agree not to escape if I let you go?" Now he was caught in his own web. How could he truthfully answer her? But he wanted his arms free; the imprisonment was worse than her bloodless touch. He nodded his agreement and she summoned the guard to undo the chains. She ordered a tray of food and wine and gestured for him to sit beside her. Rubbing his wrists, trying to avoid being too near her, Iolaus pointed to the empty throne. "Where's your pet warlord? Tirnavos, isn't that his name?"
"He has served his purpose. His worthless band of thieves and deserters occupied the city for me. Jason was so busy chasing his new love that he never knew what happened. Iphicles, poor boy, is simply out of his depth. With you as my consort, all of this part of Greece will fall under our control."
"And the royal family? What are your plans for them? I'm afraid my treachery will be a disappointment to them. They trusted me."
"We cannot leave other claimants, now can we? Especially that new brat. I'm afraid they will all have to die. Either in the battle ahead or afterwards...Come. Drink a glass of wine to our future reign."
The chill from where her lips and hands had touched him spread throughout his body. He watched as she poured two glasses of wine. She held one out to him and drank deeply from the other. Deciding the warmth of wine might relieve the sickening cold he felt, he lifted his glass and toasted, "To the future rulers of Corinth."
As soon as he drained the glass, he knew he had been poisoned. Instead of the pleasant warmth he expected, an icy dagger of pain thrust through him, just beneath his heart. He fell to his knees, looking up at Medea now standing over him. She seemed far away, her edges blurry. "We drank from the same...," he gasped before a fresh wave of pain doubled him over.
"The poison was already in your glass. Poor stupid loyal Iolaus. Did you honestly think I expected you to turn against your friends? Did you believe I desired you?" She grabbed his hair, jerking his head back. Bending down, Medea laughingly planted a wild kiss on his lips before he could pull away. "Such a waste. You swallowed one of my better potions, Iolaus, friend of Hercules. The pain should be exquisite. Can you still hear me? I need you to take a message to Jason. Stand up or die where you are." He managed to nod and struggled to his feet.
"Listen to me carefully. One word wrong and you die." Even in his agony, Iolaus decided she was becoming tiresome. "Tell Jason I have his son. He won't believe you. He thinks I killed all of them long ago. He saw three bodies and broke down with grief. Tell him the youngest wasn't his, that Mermerus lives. Tell him you saw this." She left the room momentarily and returned, dragging a frightened, tearful child behind her. She ripped his tunic and thrust the boy's shoulder towards Iolaus. "Tell him about this birthmark. Tell him to come to me. Alone."
"Birthmark, son, Mermerus." He listed out loud what he had to remember while she listened and nodded. As Iolaus caught each breath in pain, Jason's supposed son looked up at him with ocean grey eyes filled with such sympathy that Iolaus looked away. He needed no birthmark to recognize his friend's son. If it were his last action on earth, Iolaus vowed to himself, he would get this boy away from the mad witch that called herself his mother. As she dragged Mermerus back out of the room, Iolaus wondered how he was supposed to reach Jason with his message when all he wanted was to sink to the floor and never move again.
Medea wasn't quite finished with him as yet. "Now, Jason may not believe that his son lives or he may choose to do nothing. So I have an added inducement - the new brat and his mother."
"No, they are safe in Corinth. You're lying again," he said. He noticed his eyes wouldn't quite focus and the candles were somehow getting dimmer. "Please, gods," he silently pleaded, "let her be lying." But there they stood - Rena holding her infant son. Iolaus slowly turned back to face Medea. "Where's Alcmene?"
Medea twisted her mouth into a bitter little smile. "Jason's new wife? I had her killed." Iolaus reached for her throat to strangle her then and there, but she floated away from him as his world went black.
A tense day, longer than he had ever known, and it was still early afternoon. Waiting on his brother to brief him, Hercules sat in the headquarters tent, listening to the army as it prepared to attack the gates of Daras. Teams of horses dragged battering rams into position while smiths sharpened weapons rendered dull by months of disuse. Over the camp hung an air of anticipation, of release delayed just one more day. "Even Ares should be satiated with tomorrow's deaths," he grimly thought. Iphicles stuck his head in the tent and called to him, "The gates are opening; Tirnavos is sending his herald. Maybe now he will negotiate in earnest."
Hercules followed him out, watching as the herald slowly rode towards them. He was leading a pack horse for some reason; slung over its back was a bundle wrapped in a blanket. As he neared the group, the herald saluted Iphicles, dropped the lead, and without uttering a word rode back towards Daras. Iphicles started towards the horse, but Hercules raced past him. He fumbled at the knots holding the bundle in place, cursing in frustration. Pushing him aside, Iphicles pulled his dagger and sliced through the ropes. Gently they lowered the bundle to the ground. Hercules closed his eyes for a moment, dreading the sight of whatever lay inside and pulled at the blanket's edge. Pale and shivering, Iolaus rolled onto the sand. Hercules looked him over for wounds, shouting his name, getting no response. Iphicles put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'll find the physician. Take him back to my tent." He took off at a run, while Hercules carried Iolaus inside.
He was so cold, so very cold to his touch. Hercules piled on blankets, cloaks, anything he could find, but Iolaus still shook with spasms of chills. Seeming hours passed before the physician arrived, only to gesture to Hercules to follow him outside. "He's got a nasty bump on his head, but not bad enough to cause concussion. He has no other wounds, so my best guess is poison. One of Medea's brews. You need to prepare yourself. He may not awaken. All you can do, all I can do for that matter, is wait."
Hercules grabbed his arm as he began to leave. "That's it? That's all you can say? Wait? Can't you give him something to wake him up? He's just lying there. He may be dying. At least tell me if he's in pain."
The physician shook his head. "Hard to tell. I don't think so. I'm sorry, son. There's really nothing I can do."
Hercules sat beside his friend, oblivious to the continuing preparations for the next day's battle. He buried his face in his hands when he recalled his nod that sent Iolaus right into Medea's trap. Occasionally, he would try calling his name, pleading for some response. He had never felt so absolutely helpless.
Iolaus decided to lay perfectly still. If he moved, even a little, the pain would find him. As long as he kept still, in this blackness, the pain stayed over there. He could watch it, red and swirling, waiting for him to drop his guard. Now if Hercules would just stop calling him....I can't. I can't come back. It hurts too much. I know too much. If I come back, you will know, too. Eyes, a young boy's eyes. Rena's eyes pleading for herself, for her son. But I have to tell Jason...something. A list of something. Someone needs me to take a message. A list. But he would have to move and the pain would return.
The blackness surrounding him started fading to grey, then wispy shreds of light. The pain stayed over there and if he moved really, really slow, maybe it would ignore him. Maybe I'll just open my eyes. A list. A list of something. "Jason," he breathed, waiting for the pain to pounce.
Hercules jerked awake. Had he really heard something? He bent over Iolaus, begging, "Come on, come on. Wake up, Iolaus."
"Not Iolaus. Jason." Iolaus was too tired to play games. "Jason. Jason." He closed his eyes, exhausted with the effort.
Hercules ran outside, shouting at the top of his lungs for Jason. Grabbing every man he saw, he sent him off in a different direction. Soon his stepfather was running towards the tent, followed closely by Iphicles. Hercules shrugged off their questions. Jason, sitting on the edge of his cot, said, "Iolaus, it's Jason. I'm here. It's Jason."
Finally. Jason. The list, he had to remember the list. "Mermerus, your son. He's alive. He's not dead, not one of the bodies. I saw his. His. Eyes. No. Wait. I'm trying, Medea. Birthmark, yes. Shoulder. She wants you alone. Someone else. She has Rena. The baby." Iolaus stopped. Was that all? No, the last, the worst. "Dead. Alcmene. She's dead." The pain stayed away, but the overwhelming grief which replaced it dragged him back down into the darkness.
Too much. The phrase kept running through Hercules' mind like a mad chorus that wouldn't stop singing. Iolaus had fallen back into his poisoned stupor. Hercules needed to keep him awake, had to bring him back, but he needed to understand his mother was dead. Too much. And Medea had Rena, his nephew. We'll have to rescue them as well. Too much. Jason's dead son. Ask Jason about that. But Jason, barely able to stand, was reaching out for him before he fell to the floor. Too much. He turned to Iphicles who had sunk to the ground, slowly shaking his head at the news. The obscene sound of a soldier's laugh coming from outside reminded him that the battle would have to be postponed. Iphicles needed to tell his commanders. So much to do, too much. Plan a rescue for the still living. Time to mourn in the future. First, sit Jason down. Ask about the woman that had ruined so much, seemingly so easily. Jason stared at Iolaus, waiting for him to somehow wake up and change his awful news. Hercules sat down next to him. "Do you think your son could be alive? Could this be another of Medea's schemes?"
Unhearing and dazed, Jason was lost in his sorrow. "He said Alcmene was dead. Did you hear him? My wife is dead. Your mother is..."
Hercules nodded, "Yes, Jason. I heard him as well. But we need to think about Rena and her baby. Your son. Do you think he could be alive?"
Putting aside fresh grief, Jason went back in his memory, back to another raw, bleeding time. Three bodies, his sons, fire all around. Running out of the fire, away from the gore; for years her laughter had haunted his dreams. Mermerus was just a baby really. Yes, he had a birthmark. He could remember a dark birthmark on his shoulder. Now Iolaus had seen it as well. His sons. Deep inside, the old and the new loss turned into an anger, a desire for revenge that cleared the fog in his head. If Medea wanted to see him face to face, then he would give her what she wanted. He should have tracked her down and dealt her justice years ago. "Leave Medea to me."
Something of his fierce resolve brought Iphicles to his feet. "Hercules, brother, will you go with me?" Hercules nodded, delaying only to fetch the physician to stay with Iolaus. They would need all their cunning and skill to rescue Medea's hostages and revenge Alcmene's death. He could only hope he was not avenging Iolaus' death as well.
Warm, something warm, at last. He'd been cold for so long, but now warm hands were touching his face, holding his hand. Somebody urged him to swallow. Soup, he guessed, not his favorite, but it was warm and the ice around his heart began to thaw. He opened his eyes and Alcmene was bending over him, looking very worried.
"Oh, hi," he said slowly. "Don't worry. I've been here before. I can show you around, although I never actually got as far as the Elysian Fields. I'll introduce you to Hades. You'll like his wife."
"Shush, Iolaus. Drink this." More soup. Was that part of his punishment, an eternity of soup?
"Do you know where you are?" a man's voice asked.
"Sure, I'm in Tartarus." Laughter, a woman and a man. The man said, "Well, it is hot enough to be Tartarus. He'll be fine now, I guess. Keep getting soup in him. And tell him he's not dead, though he was as near as he'd ever want to be."
Not dead. Not dead. "But Alcmene, you're dead." It was all too confusing.
"Iolaus, who told you that I was dead?"
Now he had to think and his head was so muzzy. "Medea, it was that..... Medea. She told me that she had killed you. So you're not dead either? This isn't ..."
"She tried her best to kill me, Iolaus and she did manage to capture Rena. Her assassins took the wagon and drove off the horses, and I had to walk here. Where's Jason, Hercules, and Iphicles?"
Did he know that? Iolaus didn't think so, so he just shook his head. "Maybe they went to find Rena and Jason's son."
"Iphicles' son. Rena is Iphicles's wife."
"I know that. Jason's son is Mermerus. Medea has him, too." He suddenly sat up, pushing Alcmene's hands away. "I've got to get him away from her. I promised." He threw off the pile of blankets covering him while struggling to keep Alcmene from pushing him back down. "You are not helping here," he said angrily.
"Iolaus, Jason's sons were killed long ago. You are confused again. Now lay down."
"No. Medea didn't kill the baby. She's using him to get to Jason. Let go of me." He jerked his arm away from her and stood up. The tent spun around crazily and he had to sit down. "Big mistake," he said, closing his eyes and waiting until the ceiling and floor stopped in their usual positions. "I promised. Damn. They took my sword."
"Iolaus, you are not making any sense. Who took your sword? What promise?"
"Medea's guards took my sword when I was captured because of my own damn carelessness. She's holding Jason's youngest son as a hostage. Yes, he's alive. I saw him. She demanded that Jason come to her alone. I was Medea's message boy. She tricked me and poisoned me and I fell into her plot like a stupid green kid. I thought I was being so damn clever." He stood up, more slowly this time, then paced up and down, testing his strength, trying to decide what he should do. Maybe no one in Daras had discovered his hidden entrance through the wall. It was worth trying again. "If I only knew where Hercules and Iphicles were, I could help them."
Alcmene pleaded with him. "Iolaus, you are not strong enough to go after them."
His frustration started to turn into anger. Iolaus reached for the rest of the soup and swallowed it down. "Now is it all right if I go rescue Mermerus? I have to go fight, Alcmene. You may not like it, but I have no choice. You wanted a grand adventure. Have you had enough excitement by now? I am sure Rena has." He stood there, caught somewhere between his anger and his embarrassment at lashing out at her. "I'm sorry. This is such a mess and I've only made it worse. Listen, it will be dark soon. I'm going to sneak back into Daras the same way as before. If Hercules returns, tell him..."
"Tell him yourself when you see him. I am going with you."
He started to tell her no, but realized he had seen the look on her face before. Whenever Hercules got that look, Iolaus stopped arguing because he was not going to win. "Okay, let's go, but first I need to borrow a sword."
Alone, Jason walked towards the gates of Daras. A row of archers along the battlement watched him as he approached, but their presence did not disturb him. He knew that only Medea was a threat to him now. Jason thought back to their first meeting at Colchis; how quickly he had come under her spell. He owed her so much from that time - he would never have won the Golden Fleece without her sorcery, would never have become the rightful king of his home country, would have been dead long ago. His greed, his ambition had made him ignore the evil that she created. Even after she slaughtered her own brother before his eyes...he had married her. Before the joined altars of Hecate and Hebe, he had pledged his troth to her and promised to be eternally faithful. Breaking that vow had cost him everything.
Poor long dead Glauce had been the next victim. Jason couldn't even recall her face anymore. Had he loved her or her father's kingdom at Corinth? He had gained the kingdom, but Glauce had died at the hands of the sorceress. The price of Medea's jealousy didn't stop with her death alone. His sons, his beloved sons, had died as well; their throats slit and his palace set on fire. Had she spared the baby after all? Did Mermerus live because of a mother's pity or merely to be a pawn in future schemes?
Now she had taken Alcmene from him as well. With her, he had finally learned to love; for her, he had surrendered his hard earned kingdom. He had fed on her comforting presence, regretting any time spent apart. His own life could easily be forfeited now that she was dead. "If I fail in what I am about to do," he thought, "may her sons finish my task." Had he allowed enough time? One gate slowly swung open and he was surrounded by several of her guards. The captain started to search him, but Jason stopped him. "Do you think I would be stupid enough to bring a weapon? Take me to Medea."
Almost six years had passed since she had fled Corinth. Her face was still beautiful; he had once thought her the most beautiful woman in the world. Now her black eyes were deadly flat as she regarded him. Her lackey, Tirnavos, sat beside her, trembling every time she glanced at him. He looked like he needed a drink.
Jason bowed deeply in her direction. While acknowledging his bow with a wave of her hand, Medea remained silent. Content to wordlessly stare at her former husband, she was trying to intimidate him, but Jason had lost all fear of her. She had already destroyed all he had loved, save one.
"Medea, as you requested, here I am, alone and unarmed. What you desire is to revenge yourself on me for my faithlessness. You must know that King Iphicles will never surrender the throne of Corinth to you. Therefore, I am offering myself in exchange for Queen Rena and the royal heir. All I ask for myself is to see my son before..."
Her laughter rang in his ears. The same dismissive, wild laugh that had followed him out of the burning palace that haunted night. With a bitterness born from long nurtured anger, she spit words at him, "You can ask for nothing, husband of long ago. You are in my power now. I possess the queen and her son. I possess our son. You have nothing with which to bargain."
She was right, as far as she knew. Jason bowed once again and put his hands out in a gesture of surrender. "Medea, at least allow me to see my son."
"Go ahead. Beg, get on your knees, and beg if you will. Your submission means nothing to me. I await your death. Perhaps I shall let Mermerus meet his renowned father... after you are placed in chains. Guards, take him away."
Hercules had to laugh, despite the grimness of their mission. His brother had bumped into yet another sharp corner and had stifled an oath so blasphemous that Iphicles should be glad it remained unspoken. Making their way through the wall had taken far longer than planned. He had been forced to lift and push the huge stone blocks so that they could pass. As Iphicles rubbed his shin, he shook his head and whispered, "Noticeable. That's what Iolaus called us. Clumsy, big lug is what he meant, you know." Pushing Iolaus out of his thoughts, Hercules held up his torch and looked ahead as far as the flickering light could illuminate. "There's a gate ahead and it is open. We must be near the end of the tunnel."
With drawn sword, Iphicles proceeded his brother through the dim torch lit temple. Wordlessly, they shrugged at each other in the near dark and hurried up the stairs. The marketplace was deserted; the few booths long empty. Moving from shadow to shadow, they silently made their way to Medea's residence. The few guards on duty were caught by surprise and quickly dispatched. Iphicles' sword put to the throat of one of the guards brought the location of the dungeon. Once inside the house, they ran down flights of stairs, deeper and deeper until the walls dripped water and no sunlight could penetrate. Then sounds so completely out of place that they stopped in disbelief - a lullaby, softly sung to a crying baby. Iphicles started forward at a run, but Hercules grabbed his arm and whispered caution. Pushing his brother behind him, Hercules slowly peered around the corner. He held up two fingers, then motioned left and right. The two guards soon lay on the ground, uncaring that Hercules was forcing open the cell door. He stood guard while Iphicles entered the cell.
Rena started up when the door was wrenched open, then rushed into her husband's arms. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Can you travel? We have to hurry." She nodded yes to both questions, gathering up their son. Hercules asked her, "Have you seen Jason? He is here as well."
"No, although someone was led through here earlier today. I think it was down this way." Putting her between them, Iphicles and his brother examined the adjoining cells. "He's not here. Medea must have him..." Iphicles stopped and glanced at his wife. "Um, there is probably a room used for torture." Rena blanched as she understood his meaning. "This way then," she said shakily. "Medea punished a guard that fell asleep at his post. I think she ended up killing him. His screams were from this direction." Iphicles reached for her hand. "I cannot believe what you have been put through. I should have protected you better."
"There's no time for regrets now. We must reach Jason," she said and led the way.
"They've been through here," Iolaus said. "These blocks have been moved since I came in. Hurry."
"Hurry yourself. I didn't dress for sliding along a tunnel," Alcmene complained as her skirt caught on another rough edge. "Bring the torch back. Turn your head." She ripped most of her hem away. "That's better. Come on, Iolaus. What are you waiting on?" Iolaus shook his head; he had never realized before that Herc got his irritating habits from his mother. He had seen her courage before though and passing through Hecate's bloody temple did not lessen her resolve to reach her husband.
As they neared the house where he had been imprisoned, Iolaus knew the brothers had been this way as well. Unconscious guards lay in the courtyard, at the doors, and inside. Following the trail of bodies, soon they were standing in the dungeon. "This door has been forced open. Rena must have been in here," Iolaus thought out loud. Angry shouts and the clash of swords echoed down the corridor and they ran towards the noise. Iolaus put a finger to his lips and looked back to warn Alcmene. In amazement, he saw she was holding a sword, using two hands to keep a grip on it. "The guard didn't seem to need it anymore," she whispered.
Stepping over another dead guard, moving ever so silently, Iolaus edged up to the door. Cautiously he looked inside and saw Iphicles, with a bloody sword, standing over a man Iolaus guessed was Tirnavos. Hercules was just steps from a defiant Jason, in chains along the far wall. So near, yet too far. During the brief sword fight, Medea had drawn a glittering sacrificial knife and was holding it at Jason's throat. "My thanks to you, King Iphicles, for ridding me of that pathetic man." When Hercules made a slight move towards her, Medea dug the dagger's tip into Jason's skin. A thin trickle of blood dripped to the dungeon's floor. "One more step, son of Zeus, and he dies," she threatened. "If I can feel his warm blood on my hands, my own death will not be a loss. Do you want to be the men responsible for the great hero Jason's death?"
Looking on, horrified and crying, was Mermerus. He stood near his mother but began edging away as she continued to threaten Jason. " Look at this man, my son. He is your father. He loved another and broke his vow to me." Years of boiling hatred filled her; the bloodlust consumed Medea and she drew back her hand to plunge the knife into Jason's neck.
"No," Iolaus yelled as he sprung towards Medea, while Hercules grabbed for Mermerus, but came up with only his empty cloak. Medea turned with lightning speed and slashed at Iolaus instead, but he jumped away from the dagger's point. In a blur of motion, Medea turned and grabbed Mermerus, holding the knife across his throat. "Tell them, Jason. Surely you remember," she said in an eerily calm voice. "Tell them I'll do it. I killed the other two. This one might as well join his brothers. Glauce, Alcmene, my own brother. What is another death to me?"
Silence, broken only by Mermerus' soft crying, filled the room. If he could just get behind her, Iolaus thought he could take her knife away, although it would be close. He tensed, ready to spring, waiting for Jason to decide. All eyes were on Jason, but he shook his head. "Let her pass," Jason commanded. "There's already too much blood on my hands. Iphicles, will you allow them safe conduct to your borders?"
Iphicles nodded and addressed Medea, "I, King Iphicles of Corinth, do pledge that no harm will come to you or your son in my kingdom. An escort of my soldiers will accompany you to a neighboring kingdom. As long as the child lives, you are free to leave."
Medea started moving towards the door, keeping a wary eye on the four men. " I have no need of your troops; Hecate will protect me on my journey." To Jason, a final chilling promise: "This is not finished." Holding the knife to Mermerus' throat, she backed out the door.
As she disappeared from their sight, a sharp woman's cry started Iolaus running towards the door. "Iolaus, no," Jason yelled, but he had already turned the corner. Alcmene pressed her sword into Medea's back, but as Iolaus watched, she lowered it and gestured down the corridor. "My son pledged you safe conduct, therefore I must spare your worthless life. Go, you blood soaked witch. Go to whichever corrupt kingdom will shelter you. Never threaten my family again."
Medea and her son disappeared down the dark corridor.
Dropping her sword, Alcmene ran inside to Jason. Left alone, Iolaus realized there was nothing to be done, no one to fight. He only intended to lean on the wall, but found himself sliding to sit on the stone floor and that was where Hercules found him some minutes later. "You okay? You look a little better than the last time I saw you," he said. Iolaus slowly nodded agreement. Hercules continued, "Good thing I saw you standing in the door. Mother can't seem to stop crying. Shame about the boy though." Iolaus just nodded again. "Are you sure you're okay?" Hercules again asked. "Iphicles has decided to stay with most of the army and repair Daras. Rena will not hear of leaving his side. The rest of us are returning to Corinth. What are you going to do?"
"I, um, I think I will just head home. It's been a while, with the drought and all. I'll catch up with you later." As Iolaus stood up, Jason walked through the door and put a hand on his arm. "No. Alcmene told me your promise and I know what you are planning. Tell me the truth, Iolaus. You are going after Medea to rescue my son, aren't you?"
"Yes, Jason. I promised myself. But I won't touch her till she is out of the kingdom."
"Iolaus, I am asking you to set aside your promise. If you chase her down, she may yet kill him. I cannot take that risk. I have a son. When he is older, for good or for evil, he will seek me out. But he lives, and for now, I must be content with that. Leave Medea to her fate." Jason looked at him with the same ocean grey eyes that Iolaus remembered from his son. A face that would haunt Iolaus for a long, long time.
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