Hercules woke with a start, all of his senses instantly at full alert.
He listened carefully to the mountain forest, straining to hear. It was early dawn, but no birds were singing or even flying. No animals were rustling through the bushes. Odd.
He watched as the sky brightened a bit more, revealing a few wisps of cloud directly overhead of the small forest clearing where he and Iolaus had made camp last night.
"Iolaus?" Hercules whispered.
"Yeah?" he heard his friend whisper back. Hercules paused for a moment as the birds finally began to sing their cheerful morning songs.
"Did something wake you up?"
"Yes, something woke me up, Herc."
"What was it?" he queried.
"You!" Iolaus nearly shouted.
Hercules held his tongue.
"You didn't notice the weird silence when you first woke up?" he asked his friend patiently.
"Now that you mention it, yes. It only lasted a few seconds, though."
"It lasted more than a few seconds. I was awake for a couple of minutes before I woke you up. It was eerie."
"There's nothing eerie now. We might as well get up." Iolaus said as he stood and stretched, then brushed himself off.
"What the heck." Hercules muttered as he stood up too. He looked down at the dead remnants of their campfire, then turned and looked back at the trail. They had camped a hundred strides or so from it, but the forest wasn't so thick he couldn't see if something were there.
"I felt like something was watching me when I woke up." he said, as much to himself as Iolaus.
"Well, everything's fine as frog hair now, Herc. Want some breakfast?" Iolaus' voice sounded cheery.
"Sure. What's left?"
"Just some beef jerky and dried apples."
"It'll have to do. I think we should get going." He took the chunk of beef Iolaus handed him and took a bite. He really liked beef jerky, but it made a pretty sorry breakfast. He started walking back to the trail. "Come on." he told Iolaus, and heard his friend rush to catch up. Hercules pushed a big branch out of his way. "Heads up!" he called as he let the branch go and it swished behind him.
"You mean heads down, don't you?" Iolaus asked.
"What?" he barked in return, morning cobwebs still clearing out of his brain.
"I had to duck under the branch. You should have said 'heads down' not up."
It's going to be one of those mornings, Hercules thought. "You're not going to start in with the puns and riddles first thing in the morning, are you?" he asked, feeling just a bit irked.
"Maybe. How many Gods does it take to light a torch?"
Here we go, Hercules thought as he reached the trail. What he saw made him freeze in his tracks.
"Well, do you know the answer, Herc?" Iolaus asked him as he came up from behind.
"Quiet! Take a look." he spoke sternly and pointed down at the trail.
The path here was very wide and the ground was exceptionally hard from all the foot traffic, but something large had managed to leave an imprint. He knelt down to have a closer look.
Iolaus knelt beside him. "What is it?" the short fighter asked in a low voice.
"You're the tracker, Iolaus. Why don't you tell me?"
Iolaus leaned forward and checked the ground before him. "It looks like huge toe-prints. What's it look like to you, Herc?"
"Like huge toe-prints," he answered and sighed. Yessir, it was gonna be one of those kind of days.
He stood back up and swallowed the jerky he'd been holding in his cheek. "Let's see if there are any more prints." he said and took another bite of jerky. He walked ten long strides and found a second print. He was impressed. The longest stride he'd ever measured before equaled nine of his own.
This time he watched as Iolaus hunkered down to inspect the print. "Its fresh."
"Whatever it is, it’s probably what woke me up." Hercules listened again, but couldn't hear anything heavy moving along the trail. A giant walking tiptoe? Too weird.
"Do you smell that?" his short friend asked abruptly.
Hercules sniffed the air carefully. There was definitely a very faint odor lingering in the air. "Yeah, I smell it. It smells like B.O. What's it smell like to you?"
"Like B.O." Iolaus said, grinning.
"Is it us?" Hercules asked, sniffing himself.
"No. We bathed in that pond yesterday afternoon, Herc."
"We should take another bath before we reach the City of Brotherly Love." Hercules said, thinking of the beautiful Euclidia and Rufina at the Theophany Tavern. He had promised Iolaus they would return to the city. Iolaus wanted to take care of some very pleasant unfinished business with the two ladies.
"I love vacations." Iolaus chirped.
Especially if they involve beautiful women, Hercules chuckled to himself. "This vacation could get off to a real bad start if we run into whatever's leaving these prints." he cautioned his overly eager pal.
"Judging from the length of the stride, it’s moving pretty fast. It’s long gone by now. I wouldn't worry about it, Herc."
Hercules held his tongue again. He felt like telling his friend he wasn't worried about himself. If he did, though, Iolaus would get all bent out of shape about his ability to defend himself. He had to admit he didn't know of anyone except himself and Xena who could fight better than Iolaus.
Still, Iolaus was a mortal, and his best friend, so he felt a little protective sometimes. Especially when some kind of giant was using the same trail as he.
He kept trudging along the path for several miles, Iolaus following closely. The path was getting narrower now, and the trees were beginning to close in. He began to feel a bit tense. Especially when he noticed the toe-prints were now footprints instead. Really, really BIG footprints.
"Look up, Herc!" Iolaus spoke excitedly, pointing his finger at the tree branches overhead. Sure enough, the branches had been snapped off of many trees on both sides of the trail as far ahead as he could see. Not a good sign.
"Stop," he told Iolaus immediately, "Take a good whiff of the air."
His friend inhaled deeply and looked disgusted. "The B.O. is getting a lot stronger."
"That means we're getting a lot closer to whatever it is that has the B.O." He hoped that whatever was up ahead would leave soon.
"Let's take it real slow and quiet." Iolaus whispered. Hercules looked down at his friend and whispered back, "You were reading my mind."
Walking silently for about a mile, Hercules came to a spot where the path swerved to the left. "Wait here a second." he whispered very softly into Iolaus' left ear. The Godawful smell was nearly enough to gag a maggot now.
He moved very cautiously ahead, practically walking tiptoe. Then he saw it. Just ahead in a large clearing was an outcropping of boulders. Seated on a boulder was the source of the smell.
A Cyclops. An exceptionally big Cyclops. Looking in the opposite direction, thank the Gods.
He carefully turned and tiptoed back to Iolaus. He put his finger to his lips to caution Iolaus to total silence. He put his mouth as close to Iolaus' ear as he could without actually touching it and whispered as quietly as was humanly possible, "Its the biggest freaking Cyclops I've ever seen. Or smelled."
"Can we sneak around it?" Iolaus whispered back, sounding hopeful.
"No way. With those big ears, that Cyclops would hear us no matter how hard we tried to be quiet."
"Do we turn back, then?" his buddy hissed with a scowl. Leave it to Iolaus to consider backing away from a Cyclops as an affront to his manhood. Especially if the Cyclops stood between him and beautiful women.
"It didn't attack us while we slept. It could have rained boulders on us if it had wanted to. I think its waiting for us."
"Waiting for us?" Iolaus looked puzzled. "What for?"
"To fight." Hercules replied simply, still in a whisper.
"What kind of Cyclops would pass up an ambush for a fight out in the open?"
"We're about to find out." Hercules said aloud as he turned and began walking noisily up the path toward the Cyclops. If you can't go around it or back up, the only way is through it. He hoped. He walked around the curve in the path and into the clearing. The Cyclops saw him and gave a sigh. It sounded downright bored.
Then it grabbed its club, which was actually an uprooted tree, and stood up.
"The damn thing is nearly as tall as the trees!" Hercules heard Iolaus exclaim.
Hercules approached the Cyclops, hoping he was wrong about it wanting to fight. Well, its certainly better dressed than your garden variety Cyclops, he observed. Many Cyclops only wore their birthday suits, but this one was actually wearing clothing. Filthy clothing, but clothing nonetheless. I wonder who his tailor is, Hercules mused. Somebody weird, I'll bet.
The Cyclops started roaring. Evidently he was right after all. It definitely was going to fight.
"Take cover, Iolaus," he ordered, hearing his friend's familiar step behind him. He approached the Cyclops and easily ducked as the tree the Cyclops was using as a club whizzed over his head. Predictably, the Cyclops roared and tried to hit Hercules again, this time with a hammer blow. The demigod leapt to the side, narrowly getting out of the way. The impact of the blow shook the earth. The Cyclops tried again, this time swinging his club much lower to the ground.
"This is like skipping rope," Hercules chuckled as he leapt in the air and the club flew beneath his feet. The Cyclops had swung too hard this time and his club smashed against another tree. The tree cracked in two and Iolaus yelled, "look out, Herc!"
"Already on it!" He yelled back. The tree fell heavily toward him, but the demigod caught it in both of his hands. He quickly hurled the tree back at the Cyclops, where it banged the creature right in the shins. The Cyclops dropped his club, grabbed his shins and started to jump up and down, yelling in pain. The earth shook like a mild earthquake was starting up.
Hercules had already noticed that the Cyclops' attack seemed half-hearted. So he decided to chance talking to the monster.
"Why are you doing this?" Hercules shouted. He didn't want to have to kill the brute. Maybe he could reason with it.
The Cyclops actually stopped in his tracks, obviously intrigued by the question.
"Why am I doing this?" he repeated, deep in thought, "Well, its what I'm supposed to do. I'm a Cyclops." His voice was much higher than Hercules expected, an almost pleasant bass. "Is attacking unarmed travelers fun?" asked Hercules in his most reasonable voice.
The Cyclops put down his tree and pondered the question. "You know, I never really thought about it." said the behemoth, "Actually, I don't enjoy it at all."
"Then why do it at all?" said Hercules. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Iolaus coming out from behind a tree, a large rock in his hands. Hercules made a warning motion behind his back and Iolaus stopped.
The Cyclops sat back down and scratched his ugly chin. "What would I do instead?" he asked.
That was a good question, "Whatever you'd like to do," said Hercules.
The Cyclops gave him an extremely toothy smile. It would have been alarming if the Cyclops wasn't so obviously delighted.
"You know, I've always fancied that I'd be a great Thespian," said the Cyclops. "I love singing and dancing too."
Behind him, Hercules heard Iolaus try to stifle a snort.
"You know," Hercules said, giving Iolaus another warning glance, "I'm friends with a troop of actors in Athens who could use a Cyclops."
"You don't say!" replied the Cyclops, looking really interested now.
"They have several plays that call for a Cyclops, and Demosthenes, my friend, was telling me awhile back how hard it is to fill the role. Why don't you go there and try out? Tell them Hercules sent you."
"Hercules?!" exclaimed the Cyclops, "Why, I've heard of you. You're some sort of God, aren't you?" He peered down at the two men. "You're not as tall as I'd imagined, but I'm terribly pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Derek."
He reached an arm as thick as a very large tree trunk forward, and Hercules realized he was offering to shake. He smiled and shook hands . . . actually, one of the Cyclops' fingers.
"I'm pleased to meet you, too," said Hercules. "This is my best friend, Iolaus."
Iolaus gave Hercules a nervous side-glance, but not to be outdone, shook fingers with Derek, too. "Nice to meet you!" he offered, for once evidently a little unsure of what to say.
They sat down on some boulders (upwind of Derek) and talked about acting and Athens. It was obvious to Hercules that Iolaus was warming up to Derek, as his short friend was starting to visibly relax.
"Any particular type of songs you like to do?" he asked Derek.
"Well, I like ballads," said Derek thoughtfully, "And opera."
Iolaus winced. Hercules didn't want to listen to any opera either, cyclopic or otherwise. Quickly, he tried to change the subject.
"Do you know any sea chants?" he remarked to Derek and saw Iolaus settle back down.
"Yes, I do. Would you like to hear one?" asked Derek brightly.
Hercules looked over at Iolaus, who was smiling at Derek, all perked up now. "Yeah, sure!" his buddy exclaimed.
Derek stood up happily. "There's a dance that goes with it!"
Putting one arm behind his back, Derek grinned toothily and began a sideways step.
"What do you do with a drunken Cyclops?" as he sang the words, he took three hopping steps to the right, completely oblivious to the fact that his hops were causing the earth to shake again. Hercules hoped none of the boulders would jar loose.
"What do you do with a drunken Cyclops? What do you do with a drunken Cyclops earliii in the mornin'?" Then Derek began to jump up and down with enthusiasm. Hercules could hear animals scrambling for dear life in the forest. "Yo, ho and UP he rises, Yo, ho and UP he rises, Yo, ho and UP he rises earlii in the mornin'"!
Hercules prayed a silent thanks to the Fates that Derek had finally stopped jumping up and down. Some of the boulders were definitely coming loose. He checked. So did Iolaus, who was clutching the sides of his boulder with white knuckles.
Derek stopped and looked at Hercules anxiously. "So, what did you think?"
"Vigorous and sincere," Hercules said, trying his best to be diplomatic. He turned to Iolaus for help.
"You'll have them in the aisles." said Iolaus, looking concerned.
Yeah, thought Hercules, they'll be shaken out of their seats.
Derek seemed very pleased and sat down again with an audible thud. "Do you know how to get to Athens from here?" he asked Derek.
"I should say so. I've tip-toed past it many a time." was Derek's response.
Hercules took a moment to write down street directions to the Athenian Theater. Not having any parchment, he etched it with his finger on a rock. It would be too heavy for a normal mortal to carry, but not much more than a pebble to Derek.
Meanwhile, he watched as Iolaus sidled up to Derek, holding his breath.
"I have a suggestion." the short hunter said in a low voice, "It will make a good first impression when you meet people in Athens."
"What?" asked Derek curiously. "Take a bath before you hit town." "Really?" asked Derek a little uncertainly.
"I always do." confided Iolaus, "The ladies really like it." He grinned and winked at Derek who immediately got the idea and perked up even more.
Then they cheerfully parted company. Derek the Dancing Cyclops headed down the mountain while they headed up into the more rough country.
After several hours of travel, it began to rain. Hard. "Darn!" exclaimed Iolaus. A wind immediately started to shriek and the silent trees began a wild woodlands dance.
"We've got to get to shelter. Now!" Hercules shouted, so he could be heard above the screaming wind. Being up amongst the clouds is no place to be when my old man Zeus is cooking up a lightning storm, he thought with grim irony. They both ran, careful of vines and whipping tree limbs and soon found that taking cover under a tree was a very bad idea. Lightning struck the tree they were standing under, shattering it in two.
Then Hercules spotted an abandoned temple, overgrown with vines and nearly concealed by trees and bushes. Now, he knew abandoned temples are never places you should visit. They sometimes are not as abandoned as they appear and may be haunted by ghosts or malevolent spirits. Sometimes, the God they are dedicated too is not happy with visits by non-worshippers. Even a bad hair day could set a God off. You never knew.
Hercules realized all this, but the storm was getting worse instead of better. When lightening struck another tree behind them, making static dance on his soaked skin, he decided to risk the temple and dragged his not-unwilling friend with him. After all, they both had fought monsters, Gods and brigands successfully in the past. Which meant they had lived through the encounters.
The inside of the temple was quiet and dry and that was all Hercules cared about for the moment as he tossed wet hair out of his eyes and paused for breath. When his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he began to check out the decor. Not good.
"Herc, this might not be such a hot idea," he heard Iolaus mutter nervously from behind him. The temple was indeed abandoned, but the interior decorating had never been cheerful or lovely. The paintings on the cracked stone walls were the faces of people in such horrible torment that both men averted their eyes.
"Whose temple is this?" he heard Iolaus ask as dread began to clutch his own vitals.
"MINE!" announced a stern voice. A God appeared before them in a burst of blood-red light.
Hercules stood in front of Iolaus from habit. He knew he could take blows (and sometimes lightening bolts) that would incinerate his friend.
The God that faced them had a very disturbed and simultaneously disturbing face that never quite came into focus. It made Hercules' head hurt to just look at him. The God smiled at them and the smile made Hercules tense for action. He could see Iolaus bracing himself out of the corner of his eye.
"You are not my worshipers, yet you dare to enter my sacred temple. You have desecrated holy ground. Are you prepared for the consequences?"
"Well, maybe we could be your worshippers." Iolaus offered lamely. Hercules scowled at him.
"Please," began Hercules, turning his attention back to the deity, "We meant no harm. Its storming outside and we didn't want to be hit by lightning."
"So you risk my lightning instead." said the God, voice dripping with oily contentment. "It is well, for I haven't had anyone to play with for quite some time. A son of the great and powerful Zeus will be a choice plaything." the God spoke now with open contempt.
"Oh, boy." said Iolaus softly. Before either of them could do anything, a green light suddenly shone over Hercules, who cried out and looked about wildly. He looked at Iolaus and there was no recognition in the demigod's suddenly frightened eyes. Then Hercules fell to the ground, moaning in pain as though he'd received a deathblow, though the startled Iolaus could see no wound.
He rushed to Herc's side and was bought up short by the sudden look of rage on the big man's face. Herc took a swing at him and Iolaus backed up hastily, while the God laughed eerily behind them.
Iolaus didn't waste any time. When you angered a God, and your best buddy is overcome completely, he knew of only one way to deal with it, even if it was stupid. He jumped for the God, kicking him full force with both feet. To his dismay, it was like kicking a stone wall - the God didn't even so much as vibrate.
Stunned, after he recovered himself, Iolaus was suddenly unable to move and the God's smile was enough to cause nightmares. Well, when you've enraged a God you can't fight, there's one last option, Iolaus thought. He wouldn't do it for himself, but he had to do it for Hercules. He begged.
"Please don't punish him." he said, heart pounding, "We truly didn't mean to offend you in any way. Please have mercy."
The crazy God with the out-of-focus face smiled at him. It was the sunny smile of a child about to stomp an ant.
"I am Madness" he intoned, and Iolaus flinched. He had never heard of a God of Madness and the idea did not give him a warm fuzzy feeling.
He thought quickly, "Please, it was mad of us to dare to come into your temple, Great One. Couldn't you accept that as homage enough?"
The God laughed, "What a mad reply, little one. I like it. Alas for you, I am quite insane, so it means nothing. Your personal survival means less than nothing. No, it pleases me to afflict your friend, the son of Zeus. For if you think he is strong and capable of destruction now, wait and see what happens when utter madness liberates his full strength. He will strike terror in all the Gods. Except me, of course."
Then Hercules began to scream. He stood up, still screaming in an agony that frightened Iolaus even more than Madness.
Iolaus watched in fascinated horror as Hercules began to heave columns around, snapping them effortlessly. As they crashed to the floor and the roof began to crumble, Iolaus realized only a precious few moments remained before the temple would be torn asunder.
"Don't you care that he's trashing your temple?" Iolaus shouted to the God of Madness as he dodged a falling column, and was rewarded with a shriek of merriment.
"Of course I do," the God responded, "what a perfect monument to Madness - I adore it!"
The last thing Iolaus saw before he ran out of the collapsing shrine was his best friend's face hideously contorted in a mindless frenzy of rage.
Iolaus ran through the rain in the forest, more desperate and frightened than he'd ever been before. Hercules was destroying the temple of the God of Madness, and that was bad enough. But if the madness inflicted on him weren’t removed, where would Hercules stop? Now that his strength was no longer restrained by either kindness or sanity, the possibilities were horrifying.
Running through the rain, he tried to think of who could help and how they could help. Suddenly he slammed into something solid and glowing and fell backwards to the muddy ground.
Oh no, more Gods. he thought, feeling helpless.
He had run into the Gods of the Forge and War. As is usual with Gods, they ignored the human. For once, Iolaus felt grateful to be disregarded. Ares was a terrible enemy who would use this weakness on Hercules' part to either start a war or perhaps to kill his hated half-brother. Hephaestus, on the other hand, was a friend of Hercules and had been helped by him on many occasions.
Chest heaving painfully, he listened carefully to their conversation, noting that, while the rain fell on him, it didn't touch the two Gods standing there discussing his best friend's fate.
"He must be destroyed," Ares was arguing, "Madness has released his full unbounded strength. He could even threaten Olympus itself now. We dare not accost Madness, so we have no choice."
Hephaestus, the lame God, disagreed, "It is not up to you to decide, Ares. I can help bottle him up until Zeus intervenes or Madness relents." - He waved toward the shattered remains of the temple and the howling wind that rang in Iolaus' ears died instantly.
Iolaus realized that the wind had stopped, and the howling had actually been Hercules' cries of pain.
Hephaestus continued, "I have placed him in the center of a mountain, in a vast cavern I once used as a forge. To escape, he'd have to destroy the entire mountain."
Ares was obviously not satisfied, "He will eventually." he grumped, arms crossed.
"Yes," agreed Hephaestus with an audible sigh, "But this will give us a little time. I know you desire his death, and you know I do not. Don't fight me on this, Ares. We both know you love my workmanship too much to risk losing my friendship."
Ares looked irate, but finally snorted and nodded agreement.
Iolaus approached the God of the Forge carefully. He might be on Hercules' side, but he was known for a fiery temper and they had never really been introduced. "Please tell me how I can help Hercules." he asked.
Hephaestus' glance was distracted. "There are no people near the mountain to be harmed when he destroys it. Behold." And suddenly they were all standing on a grim and rocky mountain. The howls that had assailed Iolaus' ears and heart were there again, only worse. And the very rocks of the mountains were shaking.
Hephaestus observed the rumbling with a stern countenance, "That is all I can do for now. But I must tell you, Iolaus, it doesn't look good. Most likely, Zeus will not intervene. Even he would hesitate to oppose Madness. I do not think he will risk helping Hercules."
Iolaus heart sank while Ares smirked.
Iolaus glared at Ares. It wasn't a particularly safe thing to do, but Iolaus didn't think he was going to live much longer anyway. He turned to Hephaestus and piped up, "If all the Gods band together, it would be easy to force Madness to relent."
"The sun will rise in the west before that occurs," said a very pleased voice and Iolaus whirled around to confront the author of their predicament, the God of Madness.
Iolaus certainly couldn't help but be frightened, especially when he could see that Hephaestus and Ares were so terrified. In fact, both Gods winked out as soon as they realized who was there and left him alone with Madness on the mountain.
He stared at the God's feet, unwilling to meet those not-right eyes.
As he looked down, he realized that his hands were shaking. All of this had happened so quickly, he could barely believe it. It has started as such a sunny day. One minute he'd been giving hygiene tips to a friendly Cyclops and then, whammo, Herc was crazy and he was potential dead meat. It was a bit much.
Back to Plan B, he thought grimly: begging. "Please, you've taught us both a lesson," he pleaded, "I know we've angered you and I'm sorry, but please, please, take your punishment off Hercules".
Madness smiled again, and Iolaus blanched. No wonder Hephaestus and Ares had fled. Madness was a power that could defeat any God.
The God spoke, and the gentleness in his voice, its very reasonableness, told Iolaus he was in trouble.
"I will save your friend, but I demand an act of propitiation", said the God. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It must be an act that is absolutely mad, but it should have a type of primitive beauty about it, too. I know," he turned to face Iolaus abruptly and seemed to grow taller with every breath.
"I require a sacrifice," he announced grandly, "a human sacrifice."
Iolaus gasped. A human sacrifice and he was the only human available. It was easy to see the direction the God's plans were headed in.
Madness grinned weirdly, like his brain was inside out. It made the hairs on the back of Iolaus' head stand straight up.
"It would be mad to sacrifice yourself for your friend, so that is what I demand, puny mortal. You must run to the next mountain range, the Mountains of the Moon, without stopping and offer yourself to the great bloodsucking She-Beast that prowls its peaks. The thieves and brigands that populate the area offer the She-Beast travelers as living sacrifices. You must offer yourself on the mountaintop to her as a willing kill. Then and only then, will I free your friend."
There wasn't much time to think. "How can I run all the way to the mountain without collapsing?" Iolaus asked, stalling for time while he considered options.
"Madness will give you the strength, little human", said that self-pleased voice. "But you must decide quickly, before I grow bored."
From the mountain, Hercules' cries of despair grew louder and Iolaus' made his choice. "There's too much evil in the world without Hercules to fight it," he said sternly, "If the God's won't help him, then I have to. Which way do I go?"
Madness pointed and Iolaus began to run. Away from laughing Madness and towards certain death. What a day.
The Mountains of the Moon were quiet that night. The wind sang gloomily through the trees and the usual noise of night animals was gone. The She-Beast walked the mountain and it was best for both great and small animals to be still when she was on the prowl. Then in the distance came the sound of a man running.
Iolaus had never been so exhausted in his life. When Madness had said he would give him strength for the run, he'd told the truth. However, he certainly hadn't shielded him from pain or exhaustion. He wheezed as he ran, legs screaming in protest with every step. Only his will allowed him to keep up the grueling pace. He was afraid not to.
Afraid to stop to catch his breath and maybe lose Herc forever. Afraid to face the She-Beast waiting to eat him. Afraid Madness would grow bored and ask for some other feat that would be even harder than this.
A nasty female minion of Hera had beaten him to death once. Herc had rescued him from Hades' realm that time. It had hurt being beaten to death, not one of his favorite memories, but this run was even worse because Madness wouldn't let him die. His legs and arms felt like elephants. His chest and arms burned and his nose was bleeding freely. His tortured heart felt like it would burst right out of his chest. His body cried out for rest, but he couldn't, not even for a moment.
Death was going to be welcome this time. In fact, he didn't mind the thought of being dead at all, especially if they'd let him sleep the first couple of centuries.
Plunging up the trail to the mountain, he ran through a clearing and startled a group of men seated around a campfire.
They leapt up and Iolaus dodged them, frightened they'd find a way to stop him.
"Stop!" yelled one of them. "What is it?" cried another in obvious fear.
"I haven't got time for this." wheezed Iolaus and put on an excruciating burst of speed that took him out of the clearing.
He wondered what they thought he was. Maybe they thought he was some kind of Olympic athlete gone berserk. His headlong run had taken him through previously impassible areas of woodland. Tree branches had scratched him viciously on the face and arms. Of course, he had tripped through several mud puddles but that last cloudburst should have washed most of the mud away.
His arm burned. The men's shouts behind him had already faded into the distance. He touched his arm and his hand came away bloody. He couldn't remember, but someone must have thrown a rock or a knife or something.
And still, he ran, finally stumbling across a trail leading upwards. The She-Beast's altar was on top of the mountain and this trail led up, so up he ran.
Finally after what seemed like a few million years of burning exertion, he reached the end of the trail and came into an open clearing. He had reached his objective.
A grisly altar stood on the mountainside. The chains attached to it showed this was no gentle altar to a mountain spirit or some friendly harvest deity. Human and animal bones with obvious toothmarks lay scattered about as testimony to its purpose.
Iolaus stopped just in front of the grim structure. He wheezed and shuddered with fatigue. His limbs shook and he clutched his gut.
"I'm here" he announced, between gasps, in case Madness was waiting for him. Then with a grimace of fear he lay on the bestained stone.
"Okay, She Beast," he shouted, still wheezing with exertion, "I'm here, come and eat me. I offer myself freely."
What a way to go, he thought, struggling with exhaustion and growing fear. That's what I get for having a demigod as my best friend. He closed his eyes, blocking out the threatening shadows about him.
I can't really believe this is happening, he thought, and yet knew deep within himself that this was the only way to save Hercules.
Then, more exhausted than he had ever been, even after fighting hydras with Hercules, he passed out.
Hours later, Iolaus began to dream. It was a nightmare. His best friend, Hercules was chained inside a mountain, weeping with a sorrow that broke Iolaus' heart. The chains of Hephaestus kept him bound. He reached out, still weeping and randomly crushing nearby rocks like they were fall leaves. His hands were bleeding. Indeed he was a mass of wounds that he ignored as he began shrieking and pummeled the earth as if it were the body of an enemy.
Iolaus wept too, angry tears, for both Hercules and himself. "Don't worry, Herc," he shouted encouragingly, "I'm rescuing you this time." Hercules ignored him, but then, this was a dream.
He grimaced, "Of course, it'll be the last time I do anything for you, but you've saved my life so many times, and you've helped so many people, how can I not die for you now?"
As the echo of his question bounced off his distraught friend, Iolaus heard a deep and strangely feminine voice growling in his ear.
"No dead meat!"
He woke startled, and found himself looking into the red rimmed eyes of a towering wolf woman. She stood over him angrily shaking her huge paw at the forest.
"I told them all their sacrifices must be living - I need living blood," she raged.
"Its okay" gasped Iolaus, sorry she hadn't just finished him in his sleep, "I'm alive."
Her response was less than heroic. The huge creature leaped backwards in surprise and then gave a deafening roar.
"Why are you not tied to the altar like all the other prey?" the hairy one cried. "Are you a hero come to try to kill me and make a name for yourself?" Great!, thought Iolaus, unnerved. Now I have to coax a monster to eat me. He looked at her great wicked teeth and claws fearfully and hoped she would be quick. However, the way his luck was going today, he'd bet a million dinars it was going to be painful and drawn out.
"I'm a willing sacrifice," he stuttered, "the God of Madness sent me to save the life of my friend, Hercules. I offer you my blood and I promise not to fight you".
"Look" he offered, when the beast didn't charge, "I'll put my hands behind my back, see - I can't do anything to you".
He lay back in this uncomfortable position and laughed weakly. All he needed was to have to comfort a frightened monster so she wouldn't be afraid to eat him.
The creature appeared to recover herself. She moved closer.
"You are willing to die by my hand?" she asked in a rasping voice that sent prickles up his spine.
"Yes," he acknowledged, and felt a thrill of fear go over him that hurt as much as if he'd been stabbed.
"You don't fear me?" she asked, curiously.
"Yes, I do, very much so," he answered, marveling at the line of conversation, while he steeled himself for the inevitable. "But it doesn't matter." he explained, "My friend's life is too important to me."
The creature eyed him hungrily and despite his best efforts, Iolaus cringed. For pity's sake, can't she just get it over with?
"Then die!" she finally growled and leaped on him. Her body weight crushed him against the stone while her claws burned on his already sore flesh. The pain of her claws ripping at him was like salt on an open wound. Rancid breath that would drop a Cyclops in its tracks made him gasp for air.
"You are young and strong," she observed as she leaned vicious fangs to his now very exposed throat, "your blood will be sweet".
And her bite burned like fire in his veins until, against his will, he screamed with a shadow of the Madness that afflicted his friend.
The last thing he heard was the beast-woman's voice purring in satisfaction, "Your blood is sweet, little man" before an awesome and welcome darkness greeted him.
The She-Beast looked up from feeding on the little human's blood. He lay still now, barely breathing, but still alive.
She licked her great paws of the sweet nectar and became aware that she was not alone.
The God of Madness stood there, watching her.
"Daddy, Master," she cried, leaping up and approached him, feeling gleeful.
A great misshapen mirror appeared at his left hand and he pointed at it.
"My lovely one," he purred, "look what the man's blood has done!"
She stared, astonished. Her fur was gone and a beautiful fierce demigoddess stood in her place.
"My curse from Zeus is cured," she cried, merrily, and grabbed her master's shoulders as they began to caper and dance madly.
"Zeus' curse is cured by willing blood, as he demanded." drawled Madness, "How surprised he'd be to learn that I arranged to have it be by the suffering of his son and the nobility of a puny human - I am pleased to have my companion back. Now I shall release what is left of Hercules and you and I shall find another place to play."
With that, they both disappeared in a burst of light and all was silent again on the mountain.
Hours later, a party of heavily armed merchants on horseback came over the trail and saw the altar.
The horses shied at the smell of blood as the party came to a stop.
"Look, Alexander," said one of the men, "The brigands have sacrificed a man."
Some of the men drew swords and they surveyed the area carefully for possible enemies.
"Look," cried a fat and richly dressed merchant, "he's breathing." A quick examination proved that the blond haired man was suffering from wounds and blood loss but still alive.
"Let's leave him," said a guard looking around nervously, "We don't want to anger whatever he was sacrificed to."
"No," said the fat merchant, "we'll need rowers when we reach shore, it would be stupid to waste another strong back."
"He doesn't look like he's in any condition to work." commented Alexander, the party leader, "what if he dies on the way to the ship."
"Then we'll dump him along the trail. But if he lives, we'll have a useful slave for our journey."
Quickly, then, they threw the man's limp body across one of the pack horses, tying him down so he wouldn't slip off.
"He's a little one" one of the men said doubtfully.
"Yes," said the fat merchant, "but he has strong arms and shoulders and it doesn't matter what size he is as long as he can row."
The man woke chained to an oar on shipside. Blearily and incredibly thirsty he looked around him. Another man was chained next to him.
"Thank the Gods you're awake." said his raggedly dressed companion, "I've been pulling this oar by myself for hours. The Shipmaster would have dumped you overboard if there wasn't room."
He was confused, but not stupid. Immediately, he started to work the oar in sync with the other man.
"What's your name? Mine is Doulos." said the thin, hawk-nosed rower next to him.
A new fear pierced the man as he realized the truth. "I don't know," he whispered, through dry lips.
"Well," said his red-haired companion in a practical tone, "Whoever you are, you're a slave now and you'd better put your back in it. The shipmaster threw the last person sitting there overboard when he got sick."
"Sounds like a fun trip" he said, but he bent his back to the oar with more alacrity.
Hercules awoke to find himself lying on a luxurious bed amidst statues and carvings of intricate beauty.
"Where am I?" he asked and wondered at the pain in his limbs as he stared at the beauty surrounding him. It was more wealth than any king could boast of. This must be the residence of a God.
Hephaestus suddenly appeared before him, a joyous expression on his face.
"Hercules!" he exclaimed, and he grasped Hercules' arm affectionately in a crushing grip that Hercules felt more than usual. "You're finally awake. You've been asleep for weeks healing up."
"What happened?" asked Hercules, "last thing I remember was trying to get out of the rain with Iolaus . . ."
He stopped and looked around. "Where's Iolaus?" he asked anxiously, "Did something happen to him, I remember some God I've never seen before."
Hephaestus' face fell and he sat on the bed next to Hercules with an expression that didn't bode well.
"I'm sorry," he said, "You entered the temple of Madness - he has a beef with your father and he afflicted you."
"Afflicted me?" asked Hercules, looking at the scars on his arms and chest, "I don't remember"
"He made you go mad. You destroyed everything in sight."
Hercules throat closed with fear, "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" he asked, "Not Iolaus . . ."
Hephaestus still looked terribly grim, "No Hercules, you didn't hurt anyone. I chained you up in one of my mountain retreats so you wouldn't. But even my chains wouldn't have held you for long and the Gods would have had to destroy you to protect themselves and mankind if it weren't for Iolaus".
"Then where is he?" Hercules tried to get up, but was held down by the sympathetic God of the forge.
"The God of Madness demanded a human sacrifice in return for sparing you and Iolaus offered himself."
Hercules leapt to his feet despite injuries and restraining divine hands, "NO" he shouted, "not Iolaus!"
When he had lost his wife and children, he thought he would never love again or be as hurt as he had been. Iolaus' bantering friendship was one of the more stable and healing things in his new life and now again, his life was being ripped apart by more petty angry Gods.
"He was a very brave man," said Hephaestus sorrowfully, "I mourn him with you Hercules."
"Was the God of Madness plotting with Hera?" Hercules asked softly, and turned to look at his friend.
The limping God shook his head solemnly, "No, Hercules, no one teams with Madness but other mad Gods. Hera is cruel and petty, but she would never team with Madness - its too risky."
Then Hera wasn't involved. Now he had another God as an enemy. With Hera and Ares on one side and Madness on the other, he was surrounded by enemies. And his father Zeus had again done nothing to help him.
"Where is Iolaus buried?" Hercules asked, finally, "I want to see".
Hephaestus looked embarrassed, "I'm not sure if there was a body."
Hercules' head shot up and a little of the old rage of Madness must have shown on his face because the God of the Forge looked nervous.
"He was supposed to sacrifice himself to the She-Beast of the Moon Mountains. She would have eaten him, I'm sure, and I was too busy keeping an eye on you to follow and see what happened.
Then the God of the Forge looked downright ashamed, "I was afraid to follow Madness too. I'm sorry Hercules, your friend died alone."
"And you're sure he's dead," Hercules asked tightly.
"You're sane" was the prompt rejoinder. "Madness would never have relented from his demands. No, Hercules, your friend gave himself as a willing sacrifice to save you. Mourn him, or visit him in the underworld if you like. Hades won't begrudge you a visit."
Then Hephaestus looked thoughtful, "we could visit the Moon Mountains and build him a monument. I'll make a statue of your friend if you like. He died bravely and deserves some recognition."
Hercules shook his head, "Not just yet, Hephaestus, I think I'll take your first suggestion and visit him in the Underworld. Then maybe after, we'll talk about a proper shrine to his memory." He looked at Hephaestus and realized the limping God had taken great trouble for him. "Thank you for taking care of me." he said and turned.
Another grave in his life, of a good and true friend. Hercules wanted to scream and break things and maybe even cry at the same time, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he flung his arms wide open and called to the Lord of the Underworld, in a loud voice, "Hades, Hades, let me in".
On past jaunts to the Underworld, he had to cross the river Styx and he still owed several coins to its ghastly boatman, Charon, but this time Hades apparently wanted to see him too, because Hercules found himself directly transferred into the somber but ornate palace of Hades.
Hades was with his wife, Persephone, the beautiful Goddess of Spring, who greeted Hercules solemnly and then ran forward to him, her eyes alight with concern. That certainly explained why the soft landing and easy entry. Persephone always brought out Hades' best side.
"Hercules," she said quickly, taking his hand in hers, "We both know why you're here, but you won't find Iolaus. He did offer himself as a sacrifice to the She-Beast. He came very close to my husband's realm, but he didn't die. He's alive somewhere and badly wounded, but that's all we know."
Hercules swayed a moment in reaction and fatigue. "Iolaus," he muttered, then grasped her white hands gratefully, "If he's alive, then where could he be? Why isn't he trying to find me?" he asked.
Hades stepped forward and looked even more grim, "The bite of the She-Beast kills memory, Hercules. Iolaus probably doesn't know who he is or remember you. The She-Beast was the demigoddess Amnesia before she was punished by Zeus, and still retained a portion of her ability even in that form."
Persephone looked sympathetic, "Because Iolaus is so strong, he survived her attack. She drank a lot of his blood. Most men would have died."
"Do you think the God of Madness will still want his death?"
"No," said Hades. "He's lost interest in both of you now. He and Amnesia have traveled to another land entirely."
"Well at least that's something." Hercules remarked, "If I find Iolaus, can I restore his memory somehow?" he then asked.
Hades looked sadly at his wife. "Perhaps Zeus will intervene, I don't know."
"Zeus hasn't done me much good so far," said Hercules harshly. "Do you have any idea where Iolaus is now?" he asked.
"Because he was close to my kingdom, I was able to trace his location," said Hades, "He's somewhere at sea south of the mainland. That's all I know. Since he's no longer in danger that's as far as I could pinpoint."
Hercules knew that they had taken special trouble for him. He took Persephone's hand again and looked at Hades. "Thank you for all you've done. I owe you one." he said and turned to leave.
"At least he's alive." he muttered softly.
"We're not finished, Hercules." said Persephone, "You're not leaving until you give me a chance to work some healing on you. Hephaestus took good care of you, but you're still weak."
He opened his mouth to argue, but she kept right on. Hades gave him a rare grin of amusement.
"And you owe it to Iolaus to use every advantage you have to find him." she said with a finality that would brook no refusal.
Hercules decided to surrender and flung up his hands, "all right," he said, smiling now at this kindness. "if it will help me find Iolaus, then its a good idea."
Later, healed in body, but not in mind, Hades arranged for him to return to the land of the living as close to the last place he'd "seen" Iolaus.
The dismal seaside town in the kingdom of Myopia that he sent Hercules to did nothing to allay the hero's fears. It was obviously part of the route that slavers used to transport their wares.
He learned that galleys powered by the muscle and sweat of unwilling bodies left this area regularly. Upon arrival at their destinations, the rowers and the cargo were sold, and the ships sailed back to pick up other merchandise.
Gangs of slavers and other malcontents wandered the town and Hercules could see it was dangerous to get drunk here. It would be a sure ticket to waking up in manacles with a lash across the back.
To his surprise and disdain he also learned that the Kingdom of Myopia had restrictive laws about slavery. You could not just free a branded slave - you had to pay for the right and if you busted up a group of slavers and freed the slaves, you could be imprisoned for stealing valuable property and fined recovery costs.
The more he found out, the more concerned he grew. Iolaus, wounded and without a memory would be a ripe plum ready for the slaver's plucking. Hercules had already been attacked twice on this journey. He realized that he missed Iolaus' company in a fight, and that villagers in this region traveled in large groups from village to village or not at all. Even the few merchants carrying non-living wares had horses, armed guards and traveled in caravans.
Hercules decided he should check all the slave markets first, a depressing prospect.
The slave's memory remained a distant and almost unimportant mystery. It was not necessary to have a name, "Hey you", "Shorty", or "Blondy" and a finger pointed in one's direction was sufficient. All that was necessary, if one wished to survive, was to row. Learning to eat what scraps were tossed in one's direction was a close second. Basic knowledge of Greek and two strong arms were all the requirements to be a living slave on this ship.
He rowed steadily, concentrating on hoarding his store of strength until he occasionally reached a dreamy sort of state where nothing existed but the pain of rowing, the motion of the oar, and the cry of sea birds overhead. On some days, a wind would come up and rowing was no longer necessary. Then new lessons in slavery were brutally thrust into his consciousness. One did not talk to fellow slaves, one did not talk to masters. One did not talk.
And one did not defy the masters' will. He learned that the day they threw his oar mate overboard as useless. He had been making up the slack for Doulos, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be noticed. He owed his oar mate, Doulos, his life for the help given him on that first day and he paid the debt gladly with his own sweat, but apparently his efforts had been detected by the Shipmaster.
Doulos was struggling to even look like he was rowing. His face was beaded with sweat and he gave the short man a hopeless look. The slave smiled at him encouragingly, never for a moment missing the beat of the drum that ruled their lives.
Suddenly a massive hand grasped Doulos' shoulder and they both flinched in reaction.
"Slackers aren't needed here." the Oarmaster's voice boomed, "You've had plenty of time to get well and now you're a danger to the others - can't have all the slaves getting sick now, can we?"
With that, the Oarmaster undid the stuttering Doulos' chains. The shorter slave put his hands over Doulos' own struggling ones, "Please Master, I can row for him. If you'd just let him rest, he'll get better."
He was rewarded with a backhand that knocked him off the bench, "Listen, short stuff, you'll do his share of the work all right because there's no slave to replace him."
With that, the brute picked up the weakly protesting Doulos and heaved the man overboard.
"No" screamed the blond haired slave, "NO - Doulos!!" and he grasped the Oarmaster's legs pleadingly. He could hear Doulos thrashing and screaming in the water.
"How dare you lay hands on me, you scum!" said the Oarmaster, striking him brutally across the face.
"Oh, look, our little one's developing opinions. Isn't that just precious?" said one of the sailors, grinning evilly.
While the slave was struggling away from more blows, he heard Doulos give a blood curdling shriek that died away to ominous silence.
"Sharks" said the Oarmaster, grinning down at him. "Maybe they'd like you for desert, eh?"
The slave's heart thumped in his chest as the sailors grabbed and stripped him of his few smelly rags. Laughing coarsely, with cruel hands they tied him to a stained post and whipped him till the roar of his life's blood sang a rank lullaby.
That lesson was not to care. It was one he learned only partially. He found he cared nothing for the masters, but he couldn't help fighting back for his fellow slaves. So the lesson would be readministered without his being whipped to death or fed to the sharks for the simple reason he was good at rowing.
Then came the day they docked, their voyage over. The surviving slaves were taken in manacles to a dark place that stank with human fear and pain. There they were looked over by a priest of Hera, who asked questions about each slave, to determine if they were worth his interest on behalf of the queen of the Gods.
And there he learned the most bitter lesson on all.
When his turn came, he came forward quickly and bowed humbly before the priest. "What is this slave's name?" asked the priest in a languid voice, barely glancing at the object of his interest.
The Shipmaster answered respectfully, "He's a criminal, master. A murderer who was supposed to be executed. Somehow he managed to live through his sentence without memory of his past crimes. So he was given to us as a slave. Now that the voyage is over, he is no longer useful. No one knows his name. He's in the master's hands."
The slave's eyes widened. He was a murderer? Someone like the men, the masters on the ships who killed slaves so casually?
The priest considered and made a dismissive motion, "Then he's not worthy to slave for the great queen. Sell him in the market, Shipmaster, and good riddance." He paused and considered his elegantly polished nails, "No, wait, I know, the mines - we'll send him to the mines - there he can be punished for his crimes and serve Hera." The priest smiled toothily at the shipmaster.
Stunned, the slave followed a guard down a flight of stairs to a great black door. It was opened with a horrendous shriek on its hinges to reveal a dark cell, crammed with other slaves. It was dank and smelled of the unwashed bodies. The guard gave him a shove and slammed the door shut.
He fell and was helped into a scant corner by anonymous hands. Voices asked him his name and he remained dumb, unable to speak.
"Likely this one's had his tongue cut out." someone hazarded a guess. "Leave him be."
And the slave sat silent. It is one thing to know your suffering was from the Fates and a whole different thing to learn that you deserved the torment you were receiving. The last particles of rebellion residing in the helpless man died a cold death in that hour. If he had known this on the ship, he might not have fought so well for life, for suddenly death seemed a friend offering release from self-knowledge.
But, he thought numbly, I'll end up tortured in Tarturus for sure. They say those die suffering win some respite in the underworld - maybe that's all that I can hope for.
He spent the night in a darkness much deeper than that of the dreadful cell and never remembered if he slept or not, only that all his nightmares were real.
A whip cracked and a short half-naked blond man picked up his pack and came to stand on the auction block. It was not Iolaus.
Hercules stood watching and shook his head, "No - not what I'm looking for," he said to the slaver.
"I'm sorry Sir," said the slaver regretfully, "that's the last short blond man in stock. Are you sure you wouldn't like a nice brunette?"
Hercules just looked at him with contempt, "No, that's not what I want - I'll just keep looking."
He wiped perspiration from his eyes and looked back at the slave with pity. Pretending to be in the market for a slave had seemed like such a good idea - and it did speed up the process, but the pitiful wretches they trotted out filled him with anger and compassion. He found himself wanting to buy them all, but his funds were limited and he needed them to free Iolaus, if he had indeed been enslaved.
The sun beat down on the slave market. "Well, thank you for your time," he said to the slaver, trying to keep up the pretense of interested buyer, "I'll stop in next week and see if you have anything new."
He left quickly and went to the nearest bathhouse, eager to clean the stink of the slave market away.
Well, that was another town off his list. He'd have to head to the next horrible hole in the wall and hope against hope he'd find Iolaus there. At least no one had recognized him. All he needed was to draw Hera's unwelcome attention.
He found the mine by accident. He had left the trail to avoid a large armed group of horsemen. Tired of fighting off slavers, he decided not to risk a confrontation and stumbled across a barely concealed trail.
Now why would anyone have to hide a trail around here? he thought, Outlaws, slavers, maybe even good people banded together for self protection - yes, he could sure see that in this land and if that were true, they might just be a source of information.
Cautiously and silently, he went down the trail. A pair of rusty manacles caught his attention.
"Probably slavers, then," he whispered to himself and went off the path immediately, quietly paralleling it from behind the screen of bushes.
The big guard in a decrepit uniform and rusty helmet never saw him.
Well, well - what are you guarding? thought Hercules, Maybe some slaves. Maybe even Iolaus. It was as good a place to try as any.
The guard was not doing a very good job, Hercules decided. The man was concentrating on sneaking sips from a wineskin at his belt more than watching for outsiders.
This was going to be easy.
Stealthily, he came from behind the surreptitiously tippling guard. Looking around quickly, he reached forward and thumped the man's helmet hard with a distinct thunk. The man forgot all about wine, and Hercules dragged the unresisting guard into the bushes and changed his clothing for the guard's. Then he gagged and bound the still limp man with his undershirt and leggings and hid his prisoner in a bush.
Well, he thought, considerably cheered, that was easy. He picked up the man's lance and sword, sheathed the blade, and then sauntered down the trail. Pretty soon, another guard came into view. This one looked a little more alert.
"Hey," he said to the guard, "Did you know there's a new password?"
"Ares damn their souls," was the guard's agitated response, "Again?"
"Yes - here let me whisper it to you," Hercules offered helpfully and leaned toward the man's ear.
"Stupid," he hissed, then punctuated it with a quick and powerful punch to the head that took the guard off to a place that didn't need passwords.
Hercules smiled as he tied up this guard and gagged him with his uniform. He hadn't had this much fun since the last time he and Iolaus had cleared out a bar. He hoped sincerely he'd have a chance to tell Iolaus about this and hear the short man's delighted laugh. Iolaus always threw himself into anything wholeheartedly, even laughter. That was one of the things Hercules appreciated about his missing friend.
Well, he thought, I might as well give it another try. It must be my day for brainless guards.
Once again he ambled up the path. This time there were two guards playing dice along the trail. The bearded one looked up at Hercules.
"Hey," he said, "Who are you?"
"I'm the new guy," said Hercules, sitting on the ground companionably between the two. "I've got a few dinars. Can I take a turn?"
Deflected by the thought of prospective dinars, the two guards looked at the dice and Hercules bashed their heads together.
He hurriedly dragged them both into the bushes and began to wonder what all these idiots were supposedly protecting. Maybe not slaves. Or maybe more than slaves.
This time he strolled along the path and found an open palisade of logs nestled by a hill with a huge cave entrance.
Shackled men, women and children were struggling to haul loaded buckets out of the cave's black maw. All were thin and pale, while the guards looked well fed. A rough smelter set-up confirmed his suspicion. This was some kind of mine, maybe copper.
He leaned against a log post and surveyed the situation. The lone guard didn't go into the mine, but only stood cautiously at the entrance to shout orders. So it must not be safe. The whole operation looked shoddy, so the slavers might not even own the mine. They were just stealing enough ore and possibly gems to make it worth their while. Then they'd force the slaves to carry their booty with them and sell everything, including the human beasts of burden, at a huge profit.
"Hey," a voice interrupted his reverie, "You ain't one of us."
"Sure I am," he said easily, "I'm the new guy." he turned to confront two rough looking jokers who fairly bristled with suspicion.
"There ain't no new guy," spat one contemptuously.
Hercules smiled innocently, "Sure there is. How else would I be here?"
Apparently the stupidity quotient for the day had been exceeded because they were having none of it. The two guards were joined by the guard from the mine's entrance. The two now drew their swords and advanced shoulder to shoulder on Hercules, while the third remained behind them.
Hercules pointed at their feet, "Your sandals are untied." They followed his finger, looking down at their own sandals. Hercules leaped in the air and each of his feet connected with a slaver's head, sending them and their helmets flying helter-skelter.
He was wrong about the stupidity quotient.
The remaining guard stood before Hercules with his feet spread and his sword at the ready. "Come on, pretty boy," he growled, "try some of your funny stuff on me. I'd love to slice you to ribbons."
What the heck, thought Hercules as he quickly drew his sword, Its worked so far.
Glancing excitedly past the slaver's left shoulder, Hercules exclaimed, "Get him, Xena!"
The man actually turned to look, and Hercules brought the flat of his sword smashing down on yet another helmet. They just weren't making guards like they used to.
He breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. The slaves were staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment.
When he turned, they cringed away and began to slink into the shadows.
"Don't worry." he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to set you free."
There was a momentary silence while the slaves apparently thought this over. Then they began to emerge into the light from the cavern mouth and various other hiding places.
Humbly, they surrounded him, mothers grasping children to their breasts, young men in obvious states of exhaustion looking at him with a dawning hope. They all were starved.
Hercules began to get angry. He tied up the three guards he had just despatched, being much rougher in his movements now that he'd had a closer look at the victims. He found a set of keys at the last guard's belt and began freeing the people from their chains.
A child began to cry, and frightened at this outburst, his mother hushed it.
Hercules smiled at the woman, and took the little boy in his arms. The woman looked anxious at first but then gave him a hesitant smile. The boy was too young to be working in a blasted mine. He was almost the same age as his own sons had been. This line of thought just stoked the flame of rage in his heart.
The little boy stopped crying and regarded him solemnly while Hercules found himself hugging him, his arms lonely for two other little boys.
"Is everyone out of the mine?" he asked, his eyes scanning the little crowd before him. He counted twenty people, including the children. He was almost happy that Iolaus wasn't among them - they all were so ill-used.
"Where do they keep the provisions?" he asked now and this brought a little animation to the wan faces.
"I know." exclaimed the mother, and he followed the short, frail redhead to the cubby hole where the food for the guards was kept. The obvious first thing to do was to feed everyone. He put the boy down and he and the now excited mother began distributing chunks of bread and hard cheese. Some jerked meat came to light and caused a real stir. The little boy began to laugh.
Well, this was obviously not a situation he could just leave immediately. He'd have to put off his search until he got these people home. Fortunately none of them had been branded yet, so he wouldn't have to worry about the King's idiotic law.
"My name is Zooey," said the woman shyly as she finished her task and took up a piece of bread for herself.
"Zooey," he said politely, "Where are you people from?"
"We're all from the same village. Its not really that far, maybe a day's walk or so."
"Well, when everyone's fed and rested, we start out," said Hercules. "Do you know of any more guards who aren't here? I got all the ones on the trail."
"The headman and his best troops are supposed to be gone for a few weeks" volunteered one of the younger men, "I think he was lining up a buyer for us."
That explained why this particular rescue was so easy - they'd left the really stupid guys here to guard the slaves and taken all the guards who would have given him more trouble on the trip to town.
"Did he take any slaves with him?" Hercules questioned. Zooey answered him. "No, there's just us. Why?"
"I was looking for a friend that I think was taken by the slavers."
Zooey looked sympathetic. "He could be anywhere along the coast. The slavers practically run this area. Everyone's afraid to walk out alone. They actually attacked our village in broad daylight. The people who escaped must be really worried."
Hercules nodded, thinking of his own worry about his friend and wondering if he'd end up freeing every slave on the coast before finding him.
The village was silent. Zorba, the Headman, was the only visible human occupant today. He sat in the shade of his small whitewashed house and bleakly contemplated their future. Taxes had gone up, people had left the village and the resulting lack of population had drawn the slave raiders to the area. The slavers had a silent understanding with the King's advisors - no burning of villages or crops, but this particular village had been reduced to the size of a fief and was apparently no longer an asset.
They had been raided half a moon ago and many villagers had been lost to the raiders, including his beloved cousin and family.
Each remaining villager now carried a weapon constantly, whether in the fields or in the village itself. All their spirits were low. The only good news was that Hera's temple had stopped bothering them for tithes, probably because the priests didn't feel it would be worth the expense anymore.
The clink of chains arrested his attention and he jumped up, grasping his cudgel and hurriedly checking his belt for his throwing knife.
Into the circle of buildings marched an unlikely parade. Zorba rubbed his eyes. Was this some vision from the Gods?
Manacled men he recognized as the raiders were sullenly making their way into the village, all chained together in one neat line. Many were limping and they moved in a dejected fashion. Behind them, Zorba rubbed his eyes again and gave a shout that brought the other villagers in from the fields. Behind the slavers were people he knew, beloved faces he'd thought never to see again. His cousin, pale and thinner than he'd ever seen him, holding his little wife's hand, children and friends he'd missed so badly, all skinny, all pale, all smiling.
A tall tanned man walked with them, radiating a quiet strength that made Zorba think of a shepherd leading his flock to safety.
People began to shout excitedly. His cousin stood before him and then wrapped long thin arms about him as they both wept with a joy that gave strength instead of weakness. Children began to laugh. Everyone was embracing, with much mutual kissing and back slapping.
The tall man watched all this quietly.
Finally, the first rush of emotion abated, Zorba found himself shyly grasping the tall man's hands while his cousin babbled happily about their rescue.
"We don't have much," he heard himself saying, "but all that we have is yours, Sir."
The tall man smiled, "Right now a real bed to sleep on and a home-cooked meal would be priceless."
The manacled prisoners were herded into an empty cattle pen while the villagers discussed what to do with them.
"If we set them free," explained Zorba to their benefactor, "they'll all go right back to raiding. But," he said scratching his chin, "As much evil as they've done, I can't bring myself to kill them. The king seems to look the other way on raiding and we've barely enough food to keep ourselves through the winter without this lot to take care of. I'm just not sure what to do."
"Sell them," said his cousin suddenly, and his fellow ex-prisoners all rumbled a mutual harsh affirmative. Without planning it, Zorba noticed that they all looked at the hero, waiting to see what he would say.
The tall man considered. First, he took a huge bag from his belt that turned out to be enough gold to get the little village through two winters, not just one. "These are the slaver's profits" said the tall man.
He halved the money with Zorba and the gold lay heavy in his hands. They would be able to buy supplies for the winter and seed for the spring planting with this. "Normally," their benefactor said, "I'd give it all to you, but I think one of my friends might be in the slave market and I'll have to buy him to set him free."
Now he looked a little sternly at the cousin, who, diverted by the sight of gold had momentarily lost his lust for revenge. "I know what they did to you and your families was unforgivable, but do you really want to sell a human being into slavery? You're all better then they are now. Would you still be after you sold them?"
It was a hard question, one that might have incited a fight had they not owed the tall man everything. They all grew silent, considering.
"What can we do then?" asked the cousin, a little red-faced, but Zorba could see the remark had bore its fruit.
"Take them to the king. The king looks the other way for slavers, but when he realizes that one of his villages was attacked, he'll be angry with them and maybe, just maybe, he'll rethink his friendship with slavers. Also, I don't think they had any right to the mine."
"Aye, that's true," nodded Zorba, "its the King's mine."
"So you've got them for raiding and stealing from the King. There's still a lot of copper in the mine - the King may want to make it safe and start mining again. He'll want to send soldiers to investigate that and you'll have more help to deal with the raiders we didn't capture."
They all discussed it, but Zorba knew it was their only choice and a good one.
That night, at an open air feast of thanksgiving held in the stranger's honor, they learned who he was. Hercules, son of Zeus. A great hero had visited them. They all found themselves proud and delighted. This would be a story to tell their grandchildren, a story to put their tiny village on the map.
Chapter 1 written September 6, 1997.
Continue on with Chapter Two
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