Under Thy Life's Own Key

"And keep thy friend under thy life's own key..." Shakespeare, *All's Well That Ends Well*; Act I, Scene I

The stranger wended her way through the festival atmosphere of the town of Logos. The flaring torches lighted a celebrating crowd, and her attention was fixed on the source of their festive feeling.

Upon questioning, one merchant jovially told her, "We're rejoicing, Lady. Our town'd been plagued by a chimaera who had destroyed farms, decimated herds and even stolen children. But Hercules and his friend Iolaus came at our call, and killed the chimaera, and no small feat it was, either. Some of our warrior lads who'd gone up against it went out with them. Iolaus distracted the beast and came close to being caught himself, so that Hercules could come up from it's blind side and strike a killing blow. Y'know we've always heard tell of Hercules, but Iolaus is every bit as valiant, and that without the power of a god's blood in his veins. He and Hercules are a great team!"

"So all of this is in their honor?" the stranger asked, her tone quiet but her brilliant green eyes intent. At the merchant's hearty assent, she asked, "And where are these amazing heroes? Truly, I would love to see them."

"Ah, you can that, Lady, and before much longer. They're being honored by the village elders at the moment, but they'll be out here in the agora soon. They've promised to take part in the Warrior's Dance. We'll see some wondrous teamwork from them, no doubt!"

"The Warrior's Dance? I do not know what you mean," the visitor said, puzzled. "Is this some kind of party entertainment?"

"You've never seen the Warrior's Dance, Lady?" the merchant asked in some amazement. "Ay, you must be from quite a distance never to've seen it. No," he chuckled, "it's much more than just some party entertainment, considering how difficult and dangerous it is. Even here in Greece, Lady, it is the rare breed of warrior who can perform it. It takes two brilliant fighters raised almost from their cribs to fight together. Some say Achilles and Patroclus were the first to dance it. It's an intricately timed and practiced sword fight set to music and an incredibly demanding athletic dance. If the two warriors can't think as one, if they don't know each other's thoughts and moves one or both could be severely injured, even killed. They must be true sword brothers of long standing. Here in Greece we call Warrior Dancers 'two bodies, one soul.'"

The stranger nodded, her eyes bright. "These are the kind of warriors I have traveled to see. And one is a son of a god?"

"Truly, Lady, you must come from far away not to know of Hercules, son of Zeus!"

"Very far," she agreed, smiling secretively, "but I think I have come to the right place."

As she walked off into the crowd, the merchant stared after her in momentary confusion, but then shook it off. There were dinars to be made.

Cleite the Hand slipped through the laughing, dancing throng almost unnoticed, which was exactly the way she wanted it. Small, slender, appearing to be ten or eleven when she was actually fourteen -- all were excellent attributes for a pickpocket, and Cleite made the most of them. Crowds like these were perfect, and Cleite thanked Lord Hermes for guiding her to this village at this particular.

Cleite flitted through the milling crowd, and with a deft touch here, and a swift movement there, she easily began to fill the capacious pockets in her oversized, ragged robe. She was skilled and careful, just as her father had taught her, but failed to put into practice himself, since a fatal move had sent him to the gallows three seasons ago. It had been hard at first, but life on the streets was home to her, and she had a strong sense of survival.

After quietly lifting the money pouch of a fat merchant, Cleite glided up behind a stately woman in a hooded robe, her scrip hanging freely on the robe's knotted sash. Cleite's fingers had barely begun their motion when the woman turned and looked down at her, with amusement and speculation in her strange green eyes.

"I think not, little sister," she said, just barely audible above the noise. "One skilled in the ways of the Serpent must recognize another, don't you think?"

For a moment, Cleite felt speared by that enigmatic green gaze, frozen like a fly preserved in amber. Then, suddenly, with a careless laugh, the woman turned away, and Cleite found she could breathe again. Whirling away in flustered panic, Cleite pushed through the mass of people without bothering about who noticed her, without realizing her intended mark had not raised the hue and cry after her. Life on the streets taught one a keen recognition of evil...

As the last of the elders finally ended his long-winded speech, Iolaus rose with Hercules and bowed toward the Council. Out of the corner of his mouth, still smiling at the litany of thanks that had gone on ad infinitum, Iolaus muttered, "At last that's finally over!"

While the elders filed out, Hercules grinned back at his friend. "Now, Iolaus, I thought you were the guy who likes a town to show its gratitude when we save it."

"Well, yeah, but an hour's worth of speeches before the party is not the way I'd choose to begin it," the shorter man replied, answering his friend's words with an exasperated glance. "And *then* you volunteered us to take part in the Warrior's Dance, too. So now it'll be another hour before we get to eat, and I've been smelling the most delicious cooking for the last three hours -- and I'm starved already!"

"You know very well that's the best way to be before the Warrior's Dance," Hercules replied. "And just think how good it will taste after we're through."

Iolaus sighed dramatically. "If we're still alive to eat it."

Hercules turned a disbelieving stare on his best friend. "What do you mean, 'if we're still alive to eat it'? Iolaus, surely you're not doubting our ability at the Warrior's Dance! Because if you are -- "

Iolaus grinned. "Gotcha!"

Hercules growled and punched his friend in the shoulder, then laughed with Iolaus. "Come on, we'd better go get ready and warmed up."

"We'll get you warmed up -- I'm always ready!"

"Iolaus!"

Their bright laughter floated away to disappear into the darkness.

Cleite had abandoned working the crowd after her run-in with the green-eyed stranger. She had found a quiet place on a dark first story balcony overlooking the agora. She had thought of quitting the town altogether, but knew her safest method of travel was in the daytime tagging along with a merchant's train or some other large body of travelers. She knew, however, that she had no desire of coming close to the frightening stranger again.

Cleite shivered and wrapped her cloak more closely around herself. The night was not that cool, but her soul was still chilled from her encounter. Thoughts of the evil stranger fled as she saw the crowd begin to change focus and form an packed circle around the large, flat, central area of beaten earth. The musicians with their great drums, hurdy-gurdys, and pipes assembled on one side of the circle. The Warrior Dancers were coming.

Names were chanted by the crowd, but chief on everyone's lips were the names, "Hercules and Iolaus!"

A path was left through the mass of onlookers, and six men strode out into the empty circle, arranging themselves in twos. All were seasoned warriors, it was easy to see, from the economical grace of their gaits and the keen watchfulness of their eyes. All were different sizes and coloring, but each pair seemed to be matched in age. They wore only their breechclouts, and their firm, tanned bodies were oiled. They each carried a sword, but no other weapon. Many had their long hair tied back or braided.

Cleite's eyes were drawn to the pair in the center of the circle, because of their beauty and their contrast. From the shouts of the crowd she realized they were indeed the legendary Hercules and his comrade Iolaus. As they took their places back-to-back with each other, this contrast was accentuated. Hercules was the tallest man in the circle, though not the heaviest. Iolaus was easily the shortest man of the six, but with shoulders almost as broad as his tall friend, and a well-muscled build. Hercules had brown hair with streaks of blond, pulled back with a bronze clasp, and skin that was golden-brown; his shorter mate had waving golden hair left loose and bronzed skin only a shade lighter. Their only similarity was their startlingly blue forget-me-not eyes. Cleite found herself becoming excited to see their dance because of the three pairs in the circle, only these two smiled - grinning at each other briefly before taking their back-to-back position, then each smiling as they waited for the drums to begin. The other four men, though appearing confident enough, seemed much more serious.

The pipes began a slow, plaintive minor air, and the warriors stayed in position, except for raising their swords, lifting them high till they met over their heads and clashed together. A series of complex moves followed with both warriors in each pair keeping the rest of the bodies perfectly still, but only moving their right arms in a series of intricate moves and clashes of the swords that could have taken off either head if performed with the least error. As the pipes started to repeat the musical theme, the warriors tossed the swords from their right hands to their left hands and repeated the motions.

Cleite's eyes widened as all at once, with a pulse-quickening thrum, the drummers began striking a fast and complex beat, and the pairs exploded into action. They whirled around, each to meet their partners and began a lightning fast sword drill that was interspersed with rapid leaps and kicks. The swords flashed in the torch light and glittered with deadly sharpness as the dancers wielded them in complex thrusts, parries, and whirls around each other's bodies.

Cleite held her breath as the pulsing drumbeats changed tempo and two of the pairs froze where they stood, and the third pair of warriors continued on into an increasingly fast and complex tempo. Though this pair was amazing to watch, Cleite still found her attention wandering back to Iolaus and Hercules, frozen in the center of the circle in a fighting stance with their gazes locked.

The pair that had been dancing suddenly froze as the tempo changed and the third pair began their solo dance to a more intricate beat. Sweat poured from these dancers as they leapt and whirled in their own individually choreographed dance, and all the audience watched in total concentration and muttered amazement. This dance was even longer than the first.

However, suddenly there came a moment when the deeper drums, which had been held silent till now, added their thunder, and the pulse beat became the roaring throb of the very heart of the Earth. And suddenly the other two pairs were kneeling at the cardinal points of the circle and Hercules and Iolaus began to dance. Cleite, like all the rest of the onlookers, was immediately gasping with awe.

The two warriors leapt in spinning whirls round the ring in opposite directions then met again with a ring of swords and a series of feints and answers almost too quick for the eye. Then abruptly the smaller warrior whirled away only to come running back towards his taller companion . Their free hands caught, their swords locked crossed with the flats of the blades; then using the smaller man's momentum and his own great strength, raised him into a one-armed handstand straight over his head.

Cheers and gasps flared from the audience though the drumbeat now nearly overrode them. After holding the handstand for long moments, Hercules boosted his friend up and away. Iolaus twisted and jackknifed in midair and landed on his feet, his sword raised triumphantly over his head. Then the pair flew through a rapid series of fighting moves that any would recognize who had seen the two warriors battle real foes. Still with their swords dangerously close, Hercules caught Iolaus' hands from a back-to-back position and pulled the smaller man in a flip over his head. Then Iolaus bent for Hercules to hurtle with a twisting kick over his back.

Again they circled the ring in a whirling leaps. Hercules ended up near the center of the ring, Iolaus near one edge. With a shout the two of them raised their swords to one another and Iolaus raced toward Hercules. Just as he reached his tall comrade, Iolaus leapt into the air with a powerful thrust of his strong legs. Hercules caught his friend and threw him up into the air. Iolaus somersaulted and landed on his feet on Hercules shoulders. Both men lifted their swords high and out, shouting victoriously as the drums pounded one-two-three-four! to a resounding halt.

The crowd erupted in a torrent of cheering and applause. The other Warrior Dancers rose and added their applause. Iolaus leapt from Hercules shoulders and with the demigod's help landed lightly, just as the crowd surged up around them.

Cleite stared in wonder at the two warriors, knowing that there were no other two in this age of the world who could match them. Her only source of unease was the avid gaze fixed on the two heroes from the woman with the green eyes near the front of the throng ...

Iolaus and Hercules raised their mugs at the final toast, and everyone still present downed their last drink. Many of the townspeople had already left to find their beds, carrying sleepy children, or with the knowledge of work that would be waiting on the morrow. As some passed Hercules and Iolaus, they called out their thanks and farewells. One of the Council of Elders, Arischus, spoke with them for a few more moments as the crowd thinned.

"You've had enough speechifying tonight, so I won't add to it," he told them with a twinkle in his wrinkle-netted brown eyes. "But if either of you ever need anything, you may count on any help we can give you."

Hercules smiled as he clasped arms with the older man. "We appreciate that, Arischus. We're just glad we could help. Besides which, you gave Iolaus a festival. That's his favorite kind of 'thank-you'."

Iolaus grinned. "Here's right. Tonight was all I could ask for, Arischus. Good food, good music, good company -- "

"Don't forget the best Warrior Dance ever seen in these parts," Arischus added, clasping arms with Iolaus. "You two are the most incredible team I've ever watched in the Dance, and in nearly seventy years I've seen a few."

"Well, almost twenty-three years of working at it together should count for something," Iolaus replied, grinning up at Hercules, then at Arischus.

"It does, indeed," Arischus replied. "Now, are you sure we can't convince you two to stay with us a little longer? We've got quite a few grateful families, mine included, who'd love to have the chance to feast you a bit longer."

Hercules shook his head, and Iolaus looked regretful. "I don't think we can, Arischus. My brother Iphicles is expecting us in Corinth before the harvest."

Arischus nodded. "Of course. You'll come back and see us when you're through this way?"

"Count on it, Arischus," Iolaus answered, grinning. "We'll be back -- for the food and the company."

The Elder clapped the blond hunter on the back and the son of Zeus by the shoulder. "Farewell, then lads. A good journey to you." He turned and with a final wave walked off on his homeward road.

The agora and the surrounding area was empty of all but a few stragglers hurrying home. Hercules took the tankard from Iolaus' hand and sat it on a nearby table. "Party's over, Iolaus. Time for bed."

Iolaus was stifling a yawn. "For once I agree with you, Herc. It's been a busy day."

As they strode out of the agora, Iolaus turned and looked back a moment. The arena was lighted more by the harvest moon, huge and orange in its rising, than by the sputtering, dying torches. Hercules paused, looking down at him with a questioning lift to his eyebrows.

"Well, Herc, that's one more Warrior's Dance we've lived through," the blond hunter said softly.

Hercules clapped his friend on the shoulder, turning him so that they began their walk to the inn. "Of course we did. I thought you said you were kidding earlier about not making it through the dance."

"Well, I was then. I worry about it beforehand, or while we're doing the dance, but afterwards I feel a bit amazed. I guess I'm still a bit awed that I'm just able to take part in it."

They turned down the dark side street that led to the larger thoroughfare where their inn was located. Hercules' grip tightened on his friend's broad shoulder. "Why's that?"

Iolaus glanced up at his tall friend a bit sheepishly. "Y'know, this might sound silly, Herc, but ... deep down inside, do you still feel exactly like the kid you used to be?"

Hercules smiled a bit sadly as his eyes took on a faraway look. "Yeah, I do. Plenty of times, Something happens and I'm back to being that big, clumsy kid who's too shy to talk because of his lisp."

Iolaus grinned reminiscently. "I remember him."

This comment earned him a punch on the shoulder. As Iolaus laughed and rubbed the sore spot, Hercules laughingly said, "You do, huh? Well, I remember this scrappy little blond kid who was all eyes and all mouth, and in trouble about as much as he was out of it."

Iolaus chuckled, but his eyes were more serious. "I remember that kid had to fight because he was a bit different from the others. So I guess he's the part of me that has this feeling of amazement that I have a friend like you. Stupid, isn't it?"

Hercules' voice was softer. "Well, if it is. I'm stupid, too, because that big, clumsy shy kid inside of me feels the same way."

Iolaus looked up at Hercules with a quiet laugh. "Now, Hercules -- "

But his reply was forgotten as dark figures rose around them from the shadows of the buildings.

"Uh, Iolaus?" Hercules began, as the large dark shapes encircled them.

"Yeah, Herc?" With an instinct born of long practice, Iolaus pivoted around until his back was against his friend's back.

"Looks like we'll get a chance to practice again tonight." As they stepped into the narrow slit of light between the close buildings, the large dark shapes resolved themselves into six or eight big men wearing leather caps and uniforms unfamiliar to the two heroes.

Iolaus pulled his sword, as his narrowed gazed studied the strangers. "Well, you know what they say -- practice makes perfect!"

"Damn, no wonder we're good!" Hercules stated, and the two launched themselves at their foes.

At first, the strange warriors made many of the usual mistakes made by most of their adversaries. Partly due to the narrowness of the street, partly out of overconfidence, they attacked one by one, and the fighting skills of the two heroes easily drove them back. They appeared to be well-disciplined fighters, however, and soon began coming forward in greater numbers.

Hercules, beset by five attackers, threw them off, and glanced around, automatically searching for Iolaus. The blond warrior was racing toward him with his three foes close behind.

"Colchis!" Iolaus shouted. In immediate recognition, Hercules bent and made a step of his laced fingers. Iolaus leaped up to land on one booted foot on that step. At once, Hercules great arm muscles tightened and easily lifted, tossing his smaller friend upward and outward. Iolaus somersaulted and twisted in the air, striking all three oncoming foes, his body horizontal to the earth. They fell to the ground, Iolaus' sturdy, well-muscled form landing atop them and knocking their breath from their lungs. Iolaus leaped up with a fierce laugh and started to Hercules' side.

These opponents seemed more determined, however. The five who had attacked Hercules first ventured close again and the three on the ground began to pull themselves up, groaning. Suddenly there was a shrill whistle and the attackers dropped to the ground. A dark, hooded shape rose quickly from atop a stack of crates against one of the buildings. That shape raised its arms rapidly, extending a long, slender wand in Hercules' direction.

Iolaus, from his position further back, glimpsed this figure's actions first. "Hercules, look out!" he shouted.

Hercules whirled, but there was a sudden sound like a puff of air from the dark figure, then a high pitched whistling missile flew from the end of the wand directly toward him.

Iolaus looked on in sudden horror as the small feathered dart struck Hercules' corded neck. With a muffled curse, the son of Zeus ripped the dart from his neck and threw it down. Abruptly, he whirled toward Iolaus, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Iolaus -- !" Hercules cried. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled bonelessly to the ground.

"NO!" Iolaus shouted, his heart wrenching. He began running to his friend's side, but the large warriors swarmed around him. Fighting furiously and in deadly earnest now, Iolaus disposed of three foes rapidly in his driving need to reach Hercules. As the other five surrounded him, Iolaus struck out with fists and heels, but a sudden burst of pain in his head dropped him to his knees.

"Hercules!" he whispered, in anguish, still struggling to reach his fallen sword brother. Another burst of pain, and Iolaus fell, his eyes on that fearfully still, beloved form. As his thoughts spiraled into darkness, he wondered if he would meet his friend at the river Styx...

Cleite held her breath where she watched from the darkness behind another stack of crates. She had watched the entire battle first certain that Hercules and Iolaus would win, then horrified as each fell. When Iolaus finally lost consciousness with the second blow to his head, she heard a creaking step on the crates across the narrow street. A dark-robed and hooded figure holding a long staff or wand came into her view and began issuing orders.

"You two -- go and bring the wagon to that small shrine at the east end of town. You four will take up the big one and go with me through the darkest and most deserted ways to meet them."

Cleite nearly gasped aloud, but jammed her hand across her mouth before any sound could escape. That voice she would not forget -- it was the silky, sinister voice of the green-eyed stranger!

"And you two, kill the smaller one and dispose of the body quietly. Meet us on the east road outside town, at the ford. If you do not join us in three sunwidths, we shall continue along that road until we come to the foot of the mountains, and the entrance to our valley. You may catch us up along that way. The greater glory of Hecate be yours to share if you fall. In Her dread Name, let it be done!"

Six of the warriors left at once, two back towards the agora, then four lifting up the long form of Hercules and following the green-eyed woman into the darkness. As the remaining two warriors approached the still form of Iolaus, Cleite's mind raced. Thief she was, and proud of her trade, but the father who taught her had also taught her a respect for the heroes who defended mankind against the caprices of the gods. Murder and kidnapping by his code were anathema to the honest thief.

All knew of the dark rites of the goddess Hecate, but having lived all her life on the streets, Cleite had heard whispers and rumors of blacker evil hidden away in remote valleys and mountain fastnesses. Rumors of those who lived for Hecate's evil, not only appeased her on feast days and the winter solstice. Rumors of the People of the Serpent.

Who could stand by and allow these two heroes of all men to fall to that kind of evil?

Cleite quickly glanced around. Would no one come? Had no one heard? The whole market area was deserted, and no one lived close enough to have seen or heard any of the disturbance. She glanced back at the warriors standing over Iolaus. There was no time for her to go for help, for these soldiers would be on Iolaus in moments.

It was up to her.

Stealthily creeping from her hiding place and moving away from obstructions, she pulled her sling from her sash, and four smooth stones from her scrip. Protected by the deep shadow of the crates, and the warriors back to her, she fitted two of the stones into the pocket of her sling and began the wind up. The warriors were obviously startled and puzzled by the whirring sound, but one just turned toward her concealing pocket of shadows at the precise moment that the two stones, one after the other, flew toward him. Both stones struck him on the temple with the force of a bolt of lightning and the warrior dropped like a felled oak.

The other soldier whirled with a growl and started toward Cleite, but it was too late. Just as soon as she had let the first stones fly, she had thrust the other two in place and begun the rapid spin of the sling. Hurtling invisibly out of the darkness, the stones caught the last warrior in the center of the forehead before he had taken three steps, and he dropped as fast as the stones.

Cleite ran toward Iolaus, giving both soldiers a wide berth and watching them for several moments till she was sure they were out. Whether unconscious or dead, Cleite did not know, nor did she care. She did not intend to remain where they could find her, or Iolaus either. Nor did she particularly trust the townspeople to see things her way -- she had known too many times that they would never give a thief the benefit of the doubt, whether or not she was guilty.

She caught hold of Iolaus' hand and slowly with much straining and occasional rests she was able to pull him toward the dark corner where she had hidden. He muttered and groaned, but did not regain consciousness. There in the darkness of the old wall, known only to the children of the street, was a secret place of safety. Cleite slowly dragged Iolaus in through the small grate, thanking Lord Hermes that he was a small man, unlike his friend. After the grate clanged shut past his feet, she came back through and erased all signs of their passage, but leaving the soldiers bodies where they lay. Squeezing back through the protecting crates, she opened the grate and passed through, and was gone...

Hercules slowly awoke to the awareness of pain and a constant jolting that made his very bones rattle. Memory was slow in returning, but he had awakened in enough confusing situations not to immediately show he was awake. He lifted his eyelids only a slit, and saw a form above him, illumined in the monochrome shades of moonlight. After a moment, as the pain in his head quieted to a dull roar, Hercules' eyes focused a bit better. He finally could tell that the figure was that of a woman in a dark robe, her hood pushed back to reveal dark hair in elaborated coiled braids.

The silver embroidery of the dark robe proved to be the detail that brought his memory back in a rush. The warriors who'd attacked Iolaus and himself in the alley ... the dark-robed figure that had risen from the crates on the other side of the narrow street ... Iolaus' shout of warning ... the sudden sharp pain in his neck, as though a phalanx of bees had stung him all at once in the same spot ... the abrupt weakness, dizziness and stupor that began flooding his body, stealing his strength .... trying to tell Iolaus to stay back, be careful, but only getting out his friend's name ... another terrified shout from Iolaus, hardly heard over the roaring in his ears ... a consuming wave of blackness that overwhelmed him and pulled him down to nothingness.

Hercules remembered now, and knew the robed woman for an enemy. He noticed that at his other side was one of the warriors that had attacked them in the alley. Both he and the dark-haired woman were seated on narrow benches that lined the side of the cart. He knew there must be at least one more warrior driving the cart, and possibly a passenger on that seat. Of the other soldiers there was no sign, but Hercules knew they could easily be surrounding the cart.

He also realized that he was lying in the bottom of a wagon, and the rough jolting was caused by the bouncing of the wagon as it rolled. With his vision limited by his barely cracked eyelids could detect no sign of Iolaus, nor could he feel the press of another body beside him. Thrusting away his fear for his friend briefly, Hercules began a mental inventory.

Still unwilling to give away the slight edge of wakefulness when others thought him unconscious, he began listening to his body, feeling for the condition of his arms and legs. After a slight, unnoticeable tensing of his muscles, he found he was undamaged except for a dull throbbing in his head, probably from the drug the robed woman had injected him with. He also found he was bound with sturdy hemp ropes at wrists and ankles, and several lengths of chain bound his arms cruelly to his sides, wrapping round his chest and back. Another chain bound him into the wagon. It was time to show them just how well their ropes and chains would hold him.

With a roar, Hercules exploded into action. His bound legs came up and struck both figures above him hard enough to knock them over backward out of the cart. He rolled up into a sitting position and pulled with all his Olympian power against the ropes and chains, waiting for the crisp sounds of breaking chains and ripping rope.

But the sounds did not come. His bonds held fast.

The cart halted abruptly. Two soldiers vaulted over the sides of the cart and grabbed Hercules. One smashed his closed fist across the demigods' face. Hercules' head snapped back with the blow. His head exploded with pain. He fell backwards into the bed of the cart, striking the back of his head as he fell. Pain and dizziness smote him like a spike driven into his brain. The soldier drew back his fist with a snarl to strike again.

"Enough!" came a sharp command. The robed woman leapt into the cart with her hood down and the braids of dark hair fallen out of their coils. Her face was livid with anger, her dark eyes snapping with it, but she struck the soldier's clenched fist with her wand.

"We will not mark him -- for now," she bit out tersely. " Unless absolutely necessary he should be whole and complete in his beauty for the ceremony and what follows. Afterward ... your time will come. Proceed!"

The woman sank gracefully onto the left side bench. Another warrior swung himself into the cart and sat opposite her. The cart resumed its rumbling , jolting progress. The woman leaned down to Hercules.

"And as for you, god-spawn," she hissed. "I have robbed you of your vaunted strength with my potion. You cannot break these bonds, nor shall you. If you make the attempt, we shall punish you with bone-deep pain that yet will not mark that golden hide of yours."

"Who the hell are you people?" Hercules snapped. "Why am I a prisoner?"

"We are the Serpent People of Hecate," the woman replied, haughtily. "I am Herpetia, High Priestess and Serpentmage of the Dark Goddess. You are here because you have been chosen to join with our Queen."

Hercules suddenly felt a chill at the marrow of his bones. Zeus had briefly spoken once of the People of the Serpent, adepts of the dark forces of Hecate. They lived in the hidden places of Greece, and their evil was spoken of only in whispers. He had told his son no more.

"To Tartarus with your damned Queen!" spat Hercules. "I don't like your form of invitation."

Herpetia's eyes flashed and suddenly Hercules realized the strangeness of her slanted green eyes was due in part to her slitted, reptilian pupils. She nodded to the soldier at Hercules other side. The man grinned viciously and kicked the demigod in the side with a heavy, booted foot. Hercules doubled over as pain erupted at the site and his breath was swept from his lungs.

As he gasped and coughed, fighting for air and fighting the pain, Herpetia smiled down at Hercules in satisfaction. "We do not invite; we choose. You will serve our Queen and bring strong new blood into our royal line."

"I don't think so," Hercules retorted. "It would take more than your chains or fists to get me to 'serve' your Queen! And I won't curse any child of mine to be born into your evil!"

Herpetia's smile grew. "Fool! What need have we of force of arms when we have the magic of our potions?" she said, silkily, leaning toward him. "The same power that robbed you of your strength can as easily transform your view of your role into acceptance ... yes, even eagerness! And you need not be concerned for the child, for as soon as it is born, you will die."

"That remains to be seen," Hercules growled, meeting her stare defiantly, revealing none of his growing horror. He steeled himself to ask the question that was dearest to his heart.

"The man that fought with me in the street ... where is he?" Hercules asked, briefly amazed that his voice could remain so steady and stern. "What have you done with him?"

The Dark Priestess shrugged. "He was unnecessary. He was strong and a great warrior, but you were all we needed. He is dead."

Hercules felt his heart wrench and break within him. *Iolaus!* His jaw muscles clenched , his strong white teeth shut on the scream of agony that tried to rip its way out. By sheer force of will, he fought down his anguish as he strove to meet Herpetia's piercing, mocking gaze with continued defiance.

When he could safely speak, Hercules' voice was harsh and ragged with the force of suppressing that raging grief and fear. "I'll not believe that until I see his dead body!"

Herpetia shrugged again, carelessly. "It is nothing to me what you believe. He was struck down after you fell. Two of my soldier-priests finished the task. He is dead."

Hercules stared at her with all the power he still possessed. "He has been dead before, and Thanatos could not hold him," the demigod stated, quietly fierce. "He will come after me. But if you have killed him, you're all dead, because I'll find a way to wipe you all from the face of the earth. I swear this by Zeus my father."

A brief shadow crossed the Priestess' features, but was quickly gone. "Your father Zeus is nothing to us as well. The great Hecate was the one Titan he would not - or could not - banish."

"Neither of them is anything to the power of my rage," Hercules replied, through clenched teeth. The priestess looked away with a lift of her chin, but said nothing.

Hercules' head dropped back to rest against the bed of the wagon. *Iolaus!* cried his thoughts as the darkness of grief and pain overcame him.

Iolaus awoke slowly and groggily to a soft voice and cool water on his face. It was several moments before he could force his eyelashes open, and then even the faint golden light of a tallow-dip lamp lanced into his head and awakened the dragon of pain that lay coiled and waiting there.

At his groan and tight shut eyes, gentle fingers touched his face. "Lie still. I'll move the lamp away a little." A cool, wet cloth was placed over his eyes, and he heard quiet movements. In a moment the gentle fingers returned to his face and removed the cloth. Iolaus reached up and caught a small hand, then peered up into a heart-shaped, elfin face. As he slowly brought the face into focus, he realized the face was that of a young girl, not much more than a child.

"Who are you? Where am I?" he whispered.

"I'm Cleite," she responded quietly. "You're safe; you're in an old storeroom near the market in Logos. This is a hideaway place street kids have used here a long time."

Fragments of memory began to drift back into Iolaus' mind, but everything was still very foggy. Trying to pull the pieces together made the dragon of pain in his head threaten to awaken. "Why am I here? What happened?"

"Does it matter right now? You've got a head wound. Not very deep, but your brains had to be shaken up some. You should rest. Don't worry - I'm a friend."

Iolaus saw her more clearly as his vision began to improve. In her face, as delicate as a sprite's, he could see hesitation but honesty. "Thank you, Cleite. Seems like I need one. Much as I'd like to take your advice, I've got this growing feeling that something's really wrong, and I need to know about it. Please, tell me what happened." The blue eyes were beseeching. "Oh, by the way -- my name is Iolaus."

Cleite sighed, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know. I saw you in the Warrior's Dance tonight. Do you remember that?"

Iolaus' eyes widened and became unfocused as he chased elusive memories. "Yes. We were celebrating ... in Logos ... after killing the chimaera."

Suddenly his muscles tensed beneath her hand. She saw the memory of battle and pain and loss rushing into his staring eyes. Before she knew what he was about, his tight stomach muscles had contracted and pulled him up into a sitting position as he shouted, "Hercules!!"

No sooner than his cry had died, pain slammed into Iolaus' head and battered down his backbone, sending him down onto one elbow. Cleite caught sight of his face and knew by his sudden pallor what would happen. She ran for an old bucket in the corner and rushed it over just in time. Iolaus bent over and vomited into it.

When it was over she gently laid him down, wiped his mouth and face, and removed the bucket. Returning to his side, the girl brought an earthenware cup of clean water and another cup.

"I'm gonna lift your head. Sip this water, rinse your mouth and spit it into this empty cup. Then take a small sip of the clean water and let it go down."

He obeyed her, weakly, too washed out, dizzy, and pain-wracked to do more. After she removed the vessels, and placed the freshened , cool cloth back on his forehead.

"You see why you best not do that again, Iolaus," she chided gently. "Not in the next little while, at any rate."

"But I can't lie here! I've got to find out what happened to Hercules!" he cried, anger and frustration boiling to the surface. "We were attacked and this strange, robed figure shot him with a blowgun dart that knocked him out. I was trying to reach him when they must've clubbed me."

"I know. I saw it happen."

He turned frantic blue eyes on her and grasped her fine-boned wrist. "You saw it? What happened? Where's Hercules?"

"After you fell, the woman with the blowgun ordered two of her soldiers to bring their wagon to a meeting place at the ford of the river to the north east of town. Four of the others carried Hercules and went with the woman in that direction -- "

"He was alive?" Iolaus interrupted eagerly, anxiously.

Cleite nodded. watching as relief made Iolaus sag back into the cloth-covered straw of the bed and close his eyes briefly. Those eyes blinked open again almost instantly and fastened on her face.

"Go on, please."

"The last two soldiers were left to deal with you," Cleite stated, then shrugged. "I couldn't do anything to help earlier, but two of them I could handle. I took them out and pulled you in here where you'd be safe. That was 'bout half an hour ago."

Iolaus stared at her in amazement. "Who are you, Cleite, that small as you are, you could 'take out' those soldiers?"

"I'm an orphan and a street kid, Iolaus," Cleite replied, stung at what she took as disbelief. "I might just be fourteen, but I c'n take care of myself. My father was a master thief; what he didn't teach me I've learned since he died three seasons ago. Besides bein' a great pickpocket, I'm the best with a sling. My dad 'n' I had to do our share of hunting. I'm 'fraid those soldiers won't be waking up. They were still lying there last time I looked."

Iolaus grinned. "My apologies, Cleite. I didn't mean to sound like I didn't believe you. Especially since it sounds like you and I were forged to the hero trade in much the same way. Thank you for rescuing me."

Cleite smiled shyly. "You're welcome, Iolaus. My father was a good teacher."

Iolaus' smile faded. "I 've gotta get after Hercules quickly though. There is no time to spare. I don't want them to get to far ahead of me."

"I can help ya get on your feet faster with some herbs. My mother taught me about 'em when I was young." Cleite rose from his side and pulled leaf-wrapped parcels from her scrip, missing Iolaus sad smile at her description. "I've got ginger and willow bark powder the pain in your head, and ginseng root and dried chrysanthemum to get your strength up. Shall I fix 'em for ya?"

Iolaus recognized the herbs from his observations of Hercules' uses of them, and from his own rough battlefield medical skills. "Yes, please." As she began bustling around getting some supplies that she had obviously stored here, Iolaus stared at the ceiling, still trying to come to terms with all that had happened so quickly.

"Who could his kidnappers be?" Iolaus wondered out loud. "And what could they want with Hercules?"

Cleite glanced at him, then back to her work. "I think I may have an idea, but before I tell you, you've gotta promise me that you're not going to go jumpin' up again, and making yourself sick again."

Iolaus looked over at her worriedly, his blue eyes bright in their rings of shadow and growing bruises. "It's Hera, isn't it? She's got him."

Cleite shook her head, not meeting his eyes. "No, not Hera. You ever heard of the Serpent People of Hecate?"

Iolaus frowned, as he thought hard. "I've heard legends, rumors, whispers on the street and around campfires. You think they're the people who took him?" At her nod, he went on. "But why them and not Hera's minions? They're usually the guys after Herc."

Cleite replied. "Their Priestess, the one with the blowgun, she spoke of Hecate, and of their city in the mountains to the north. She wore a robe of black with silver designs of serpents on it."

"Well ... now, please, Cleite, don't get mad again, but can you be sure? It was kinda dark in the street," Iolaus suggested.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry to say it, Iolaus, but I *am* sure. You see, I'd already met up with the Priestess in the crowd earlier. Before you and Hercules and the others came out to dance, I was working the crowd, and tried to pick her pocket. She hadn't even looked my way, and my hand hadn't got near her scrip when she turned and looked at me. She had the strangest, most cruel-looking green eyes I have ever seen. When she looked at me, it seemed like she could see right through me, and knew everything about me. She said something about knowing what I was about because we were both skilled in the ways of the Serpent. But she's wrong, Iolaus. She and her people are evil in the flesh, and worship the darkness of Hecate. I may be a thief, but I'm not like that."

She looked at Iolaus somberly as she stirred the powdered herbs into a cup of fresh water. "As to what she wants with Hercules ... I don't know, but it can't be good."

Iolaus closed his eyes against the fear that poured through him. "Please hurry, Cleite. I've gotta get after them!"

And outside the darkness seemed darker as the moon's brightness was swallowed by a cloud ...

That darkness shrouded the moon just as the Serpent People's wagon bearing Hercules emerged from the woods. Just before them was the ford at which Herpatia had instructed Iolaus' assassins to meet them. Herpatia commanded the wagon to stop and climbed out to confer with the other guards. Hercules slowly sat up, looking around in the flickering torchlight and wondering what was happening.

The other guards and Herpatia were examining the area. "They must not have arrived yet. They may have had to go slowly to get through town unobtrusively. They could have had trouble disposing with the body adequately. Or they may possibly have arrived here earlier and gone on ahead of us."

As Hercules listened to this conversation, he resolutely squashed the internal voice of fear that rose within him. At the same time, he began moving his cramped arms and legs as best he could, shifting his position. The lone guard left on the wagon, the driver glanced around and saw the prisoner doing nothing more than stretching. He turned back around as one of the horses stamped a hoof and moved impatiently, calming it with soothing words.

The leader of the soldier priests, who seemed somewhat less in awe of the Priestess, shook his head. "Your first suggestions may well be true, Lady, but no one was here before us. I studied the trail for tracks as we approached and with the moon's light. There has been no one through this way today."

Hercules became aware of a certain faint sense of unease from the Priestess and head soldier-priest. he began to feel a faint flicker of hope rekindle itself in his aching heart. His eyes narrowed as the thought of Iolaus alive and following him began to seem possible, however his head argued against it. He reached up towards his chest, as though trying to stretch his upper arm muscles. The driver didn't bother to turn. Quickly, Hercules grasped one of the decorative laces of his yellow shirt and quietly tore the fringed end off.

He held it in his palm for a moment, feeling the small agate that was threaded and knotted into place at the end. The small stone was part of a necklace that had belonged to Deianara, which he had rescued from the ashes of their home. It was terrible to part with it, but he knew Iolaus would know its significance. He palmed it for a moment, glancing around nonchalantly as he continued to change his position.

Most of the guards were near the front of the wagon on the right. Hercules slowly stretched his arms out toward the opposite side of the wagon, reaching the side as though still trying to work the kinks from his muscles. Then he let the insignificant bit of lacing fall. Slowly, still adjusting his position, he turned slightly back toward the group near the front of the wagon.

At that moment, Herpatia was shrugging eloquently. "No matter. We will wait for the allotted time; if they have not joined us, we will continue. They will catch up soon enough."

Her eyes fell on Hercules, who by now had gathered that the conversation alluded to Iolaus' killers rejoining the party at this meeting place. The flaring hope in his face, easily visible in the light of the torches and the returning moon, brought her stalking back to his side.

Hercules smiled grimly at her. "There's another explanation, you know, Priestess."

"I hope you're not indulging in hope, godling," Herpatia sneered. "Surely even you have enough brains within that brawn to realize that your friend is already dead."

"I told you -- he's supposed to've been dead before. It may be your guards who are already dead."

Herpatia smiled cruelly. " I anticipated that they might take some time to rejoin us. Your friend was well on his way to being dead when we left. But go ahead -- hope! Your dashed hopes will make your returning grief all the sweeter to me."

But when the wagon pulled off through the ford, Hercules stared back down the forest trail, with hope rising fiercely against his reason. The guards had not come ...

The moon was very low when Iolaus and Cleite arrived at the ford. Their journey had been slow and laborious, since Iolaus had insisted on leaving after no more than an hour's rest after taking the herbs. Cleite had tried to keep him resting longer, but as soon as the blond hunter could stand he insisted on going after Hercules.

"Fine," she replied, stuffing herb packets and utensils into her bag. "Let's go then."

Iolaus was reaching for his sword on the floor beside his straw bedding. He paused in astonishment and frowned at Cleite.

"Now wait just a minute," he said, determinedly. "You can't be serious, Cleite. This isn't your fight."

"Is that so?" Her eyebrows lifted, but she went on with her packing. "I rather thought it was my fight when I took care of those two guards."

"You saved me, of course, but I can't let you put yourself into such danger," Iolaus answered.

"Iolaus, I put myself in danger every day, and I have since I picked my first pocket at six years old," Cleite replied reasonably.

"Yes, but this isn't just some fat, irate merchant you'd have to go up against. These are the servants of Hecate herself!"

Cleite sighed and turned to him, folding her arms. "Fine, then. Go ahead, get up and go."

Iolaus began to slowly push himself up to his feet. This was his third time getting this far, and it was easier. After leaning one hand against the wall, he slowly let go and stood. So far, so good. But when he tried to take a step, dizziness struck him, and he swayed, then reached out blindly for the wall.

"Now, that dizziness will pass, the longer you're on your feet, but you're going to need help for a little while," Cleite said, patiently.

Iolaus laughed sheepishly. "Thank you for my third lesson, Cleite. Hopefully, it'll be the last one you need to teach me."

"Are you sure you don't want to ask the villagers for help?"

Iolaus sighed. "I would if I felt it would help, Cleite, but you've seen these people. They're not warriors, and the few men with any kind of skill at arms were either killed or wounded by the chimaera. That's why Herc and I came here to help. They've been through enough; I can't ask this of them. And we don't have time for finding anyone else."

She looked doubtful, and Iolaus continued. "I've got to get after them, or the trail will be cold. Cleite, I'll be all right -- with your help, of course." He allowed a very small part of the anguish and anxiety he was feeling to show in his eyes. This look reminded Cleite of the comradeship she had seen between this man and his friend.

"All right then, let's go," she said, shouldering her carry-sack, and offering her other shoulder to Iolaus. They slipped throught the silent town and out toward the river in the deep night. At first, Iolaus had to lean heavily on Cleite as he endured frequent bouts of dizziness. She worried about the pallor of his face against the dark rings of shadow of his eyes, but he set his jaw grimly and pressed on as quickly as possible without complaint, his fear for Hercules overshadowing any thought for himself.

By the time they reached the river, Iolaus was able to walk more on his own, with the aid of a stout staff of ash wood he had cut in the forest. Cleite held the torch they had kindled in the deeper darkness of the wood and kept it close to the ground so that Iolaus could study the ground.

"The wagon and horses stopped here for some time. The wheel ruts are deeper as the wagon rocked back and forth in the same spot for awhile, and the horses stood and stamped their feet in about the same places. There were also several people on foot -- the same ones we've been following since we picked up their trail from town. Hercules' print isn't one of them here either. None big enough, none his boot print."

"They must have left him in the wagon. I'm sure that's why they brought it along," Cleite said reassuringly.

Iolaus sighed and leaned heavily on his staff. He was down on his knees where he had been studying the tracks. "I just wish there was some way to be sure he was still ... okay," he said quietly, unable to contemplate the possibility that Hercules might not be alive.

At that moment, the moon broke out of the clouds that had been obscuring it. The brilliant globe, just over the treetops as it dropped toward the western horizon, silvered the world all around them with unearthly radiance. In that light, Iolaus caught sight of a small bit of yellow and blue on the side of the trail. He pulled himself up with his staff, swaying slightly, but too intent to care. He crossed the trail and scooped up the object. Cleite came close to see what he found.

It was a scrap of soft doeskin lacing, dyed yellow, with a small, pale blue agate threaded on it. Cleite caught that glimpse, then suddenly Iolaus' hand closed tightly over it. She glanced up to see Iolaus' face light up. He closed his eyes suddenly and took a deep breath.

"He's alive, Cleite!" Iolaus opened blue eyes that were suspiciously bright, glanced at the piece of lacing in his hand and then back at her. "And he left this for me to find, so he was conscious and able to act."

"Can you be sure it's his?" she asked, hardly daring to believe.

Iolaus nodded, and explained the importance of the agate. "I remember when he knotted that stone in place. After Hercules realized that vengeance for the loss of his family was useless and self-destructive, he went back to the ruins of his house and found this agate bead. It was one of Deianara's. He told me it would help him remember the love, not the loss. He knew I'd remember it."

Cleite's doubtful gaze fled and was replaced by a smile of certainty. "I'm glad, Iolaus."

Iolaus nodded. "We're no more than a few hours behind -- let's go!"

And splashing into the rocky stream, the pair started on Hercules' trail with renewed hope.

Hercules studied the horizon with increasing concern. As morning dawned, he had realized that they were closer to them than he had imagined. Already the foothills were growing steeper around them, and the loamy terrain of the lower hills was giving way to rockier soil. If Iolaus was following -- and Hercules acknowledged to himself that he might very well *not* be -- tracking was soon going to get tougher. He had managed to drop another lace and a frayed bit of leather torn from his pants, but realized he should save what few tokens he had left for the higher, harder ground.

He was nursing a hope, however, that perhaps he would not have to wait for Iolaus. He had once or twice tried himself against his bonds, and found his strength slowly but surely returning. He had no idea how long Herpatia's potion was supposed to work, but didn't want to call her attention to the possibility of his strength returning by asking. He was still not able to break the ropes and chains, but hoped it would not be much longer.

Hercules shifted his position against the side of the wagon, pulling against the chain that bound his bonds to the wagon. Now he could look out of the back again more easily. He stared back down the trail they'd traveled, hoping against all hope and reason to catch some glimpse of Iolaus in pursuit. He knew his friend would be following him if he had to crawl, but he was also afraid of what might happen to Iolaus if he did catch up with them. He surreptitiously tensed against the chains and ropes again, under cover of yawning and stretching, and felt them strain against his bulging biceps and chest muscles.

*Not much longer now,* he thought with satisfaction, looking back down the trail. Maybe Iolaus wouldn't have to put himself in danger.

But just at that moment he felt a sharp sting in his neck. Hercules whipped his head around, growling, to find Herpatia pulling one of her darts from his neck.

She laughed. "You can forget about your plan, now, Hercules," she said, with a fierce, exultant flash of her cruel smile. "That's another full dose of the potion that drains your special strength. And before it wears off, we'll be back in our mountain stronghold." She laughed again at the anger and frustration on his face.

"Maybe so, maybe not. Have your forgotten your other two guards have yet to rejoin you?" he said, through gritted teeth.

She was unmoved by this reminder now that they were further along in their journey. "A thousand things could have caused they to delay returning, none of them due to your friend. He is certainly dead. And whether those two return or not, we will have you safe soon enough."

"Don't bet on it, lady," he bit back. Then he turned away from her gloating smile.

He hoped Iolaus would make his move soon.

If Iolaus was out there. If Iolaus was even still alive ...

Iolaus was very much alive, and knew it, because he could feel aches in every muscle and joint from his head to his toes. He was able to walk on his own now, aided by the lightening of the sky in the East, which helped even his blurred vision see the road better. Although his headache was constant and the dizziness still assailed him from time to time, he kept pushing himself forward. He was spurred onward by the terrifying vision of Hercules' face just before he'd fallen unconscious from the Serpent Priestess' drugged dart.

Suddenly the dizziness washed over him and he fell to his knees, clutching his staff to keep from falling further. Cleite quickly beside him, and supported him till the dizziness passed. She did not like the pallor of his face against the darkening bruises under his eyes and on his well-cut jaw. His breathing was labored as he fought the faintness brought on by the punishing pace he had set, as well as the lingering effects of the drug.

"Iolaus, you've gotta rest -- for a little while anyway. I'm amazed you've gotten this far!" Cleite said, pulling her herb packets from her carry sack.

Iolaus shook his head stubbornly. "There's no time. Who knows what they're going to do to Hercules?" He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself up with his staff. Cleite saw his face become even paler, and was just able to break his fall.

"Iolaus, please," she said, quietly, holding his head in her lap. "Rest for just a while, okay? I'll make you some herbal tea that will help you. We can eat something and you can catch your breath. You'll be stronger for it."

"How can I rest, when Here's in trouble?" Iolaus said. He pushed himself up from her lap, unable to be still in his desperate anxiety. He looked to the distance where the taller slopes, golden-red in the light of the sun they couldn't yet see, began to rear their heads His eyes were darkened by more than the bruising around them. "They're getting closer to the mountains. If he could've gotten away, he would've by now. That must mean they have some way of controlling his strength, or keeping him unconscious, or something. We need to try to help him now, before they get closer to their home."

Iolaus' jaw tightened with determination, his gaze now distant, as he thought of Hercules in the clutches of such evil. "But it doesn't matter. I'll go up against Hecate herself to get Herc back."

Cleite leaned over and wiped the sweat of exertion from his face. Awe and tenderness filled her voice in reply. "You must love him very much."

Iolaus distant gaze now focused on her face. He nodded simply. "We've been friends since we were little kids. We've been through everything together. I can't imagine life without him as my best friend."

"Then, you've got to rest, Iolaus! You can't go up against these people as weak as you are!" Cleite declared.

Before Iolaus could answer, a voice spoke out of the air above them. "Listen to her, my son. Cleite, my daughter, you speak wisely."

Cleite whirled. Iolaus raised a shaking hand to screen the rising sun from his face. They looked up in total shock as a figure began to coalesce out of the air in a shower of silvery droplets.

"Be careful of those, children," the handsome young man floating in midair cautioned them with a grin as the silvery drops showered near them. "Mercury -- it makes a good effect, but the stuff's poisonous to you mortals."

With a cursory glance at the winged travelers hat on the young man's dark curls, the winged golden sandals on his feet, and the serpent-entwined staff in his and both Iolaus and Cleite gasped in shock.

"Hermes?!" Iolaus exclaimed.

"My Lord Hermes!" Cleite gasped, falling to her knees.

The young man laughed, settled to the ground, and held out a hand to Cleite. She placed her own hand tremblingly into his.

"Rise, Cleite, my dear," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes. "I'm not *that* kind of a god. And even if I was, you are one of my best children and I am very proud of you."

She smiled shakily up at him, speechless with awe. Iolaus, however, was slightly more accustomed to the surprising entrances of Hercules' family and definitely less impressed by them. With some trepidation, he asked, "And what can we do for you, Hermes?"

The dark eyes seemed to comprehend Iolaus' reservations and regard them with humor. "It's not so much what you can do for me, but how I can help you help Hercules, my son."

Iolaus sat up straighter, brightening. "That's good, if you're really serious. But what's this 'my son' stuff? I can see why you're Cleite's patron, but I've never thought of you as mine. No offense, of course." The last he added hastily, being all too familiar with the capriciousness of Hercules' immortal side of the family.

"Oh, Iolaus, you're such a smart mouth," Hermes replied, laughing infectiously. "If it wasn't for anything more than that I'd have to regard you with favor." As Iolaus slowly grinned up at him, the messenger god continued. "But you're definitely one of my flock. You were a child of the streets for a time, just like my Cleite here, and you did your share of petty theft to keep soul and body together. Of course," this with an elaborate, mock-serious sigh, "my prim and proper brother Hercules has taken you away from most of that, but I don't begrudge him that."

Iolaus grinned and shook his head. "He can be a real 'goody-two-sandals' sometimes, can't he?" his smile faded as he studied Hermes more seriously. "You said something about helping us help Herc. Why? And how?"

"Because you're my children, of course. And also because my dear Aphrodite asked me to help." The brown eyes were suddenly soulful.

"Ah, I see," Iolaus replied, comprehension dawning. Hermes' unrequited love for Aphrodite was known in song and story, and part of the gossip in Herc's Olympian family.

"And besides that, I got the distinct impression that Dad wanted me to help."

"Dad? You mean Zeus?" Iolaus asked, startled.

Hermes nodded. "Things haven't been good between them since Dad couldn't help out with Deianara and the kids, and Serena, but it doesn't mean Dad wanted it that way."

"So, how can you help us?" Iolaus asked, levering himself to his feet with the support of his staff.

"I'm permitted by the rules to give three gifts -- "

Iolaus snorted. "There are those rules again! Who makes these rules for you guys?"

Hermes grinned and winked, and ignored the question. "The first gift is to slow Here's captors down enough to give you time to get on your feet and catch up." Hermes closed his eyes. "And that's what I'm doing right now."

While the tall young man stood with his eyes closed, Cleite looked at Iolaus. "What d' you suppose he's doing?"

"There's no telling, " Iolaus replied, beginning to feel some hope after a long, dark night of worry. "But I'm sure not gonna look a gift god in the mouth!"

At that moment, a couple of leagues in the distance, Hercules felt the wagon suddenly lurch beneath him. It stopped abruptly with a splintering sound and one of the back corners sank down several inches. He was groggy and light-headed from the effects of the drug, though it had not caused unconsciousness this time. However, the sudden wrenching jolt sent a quickening rush alertness through him as he realized what these sensations might mean. He looked up to see the rosy fingers of dawn lighting the sky.

Herpatia, nearly thrown from her seat on one side of the wagon, cursed the driver fiercely and slipped over the side. The driver and the other soldiers quickly followed. Though his own initial impulse was to get up to see what had happened for himself, some rapid thinking made him stay where he was and act much more sleepy and uninterested than he really was.

It didn't take long for Herpatia to let him know the exact situation. "You fool!" she hissed at the driver. "A broken wheel! The trail is not that bad here -- you must have hit a stone or a deep hole."

"N-no, my lady, I did not! I swear!" the driver stammered hurriedly. "Look for yourself -- there is nothing on the trail just behind that should cause such a thing!"

"It had to have been a stone -- it must have been dislodged by the wheel's push. Wheels don't just break for no reason."

"Lady, I assure you, I did not -- "

"Silence! It is useless for you to continue. Your punishment will be meted out later. I have no time for it now. Can it be fixed?"

Hercules could hear the driver and the leader of the soldier priests conferring in low voices as they examined the wheel. After a moment, the captain spoke.

"Lady Herpatia, the break is too severe. Without a blacksmith's forge nearby, we haven't the tools to repair it. The metal rim is broken through; the wheel is practically in two pieces." Something frightening must have shown in the Priestess' face, because Hercules heard the captain hastily add. "Please, Lady. It must be as Antiphos has said, or else the metal rim was defective. I was walking on that side of the wagon and saw no indication that he 'd hit anything with the wheel."

There was only silence, but Hercules could almost feel the force of Herpatia's rage from where he was. Suddenly, brisk footsteps caused him to close his eyes and relax his face into a look of sleep. There was a pull on that side of the wagon, and suddenly Herpatia's voice rang out.

"Wake up, godling -- you must walk!" A sudden slap on his chest was startling; if Hercules hadn't been very prepared for just such a blow his reaction would have given away his real state of alertness. As it was he groaned, pushed feebly at the hand pressing painfully on his chest, and pretended he could barely drag his eyes open.

"Wha --" he mumbled, hoping he wasn't pushing the sleepy act too far. However, Herpatia must have expected him to be quite groggy, because she took no more time trying to rouse him. She disappeared from above him back down from the side of the wagon. "Antiphos -- unhitch the horse. Our resting friend can ride tossed across the animal's back. The wagon doesn't matter -- returning home with this one does."

There was a period of some minor jolting and the sounds of jingling metal and creaking leather. Hercules suddenly wondered if his act had been the smartest plan. Then suddenly, there silence and then another whispered conversation.

"Enough! Why do you delay?" Herpatia demanded imperiously. "Bring the horse back here and get Hercules on him."

"My lady -- " This time even the guard captain sounded afraid. "Please, we can't explain why, but it seems the horse has severely strained his left rear fetlock. He is putting almost no weight on it, and obviously doesn't want to walk. I don't think he could carry anyone, let alone this large man."

This time the Priestess' rage was unmistakable. She screamed viciously, wordlessly. Simultaneously there was a wet, ripping sound and another scream, followed by a muffled tumbling. Then abrupt silence.

"Leave the fool's body there. He deserves no better. A broken wheel and a totally lamed horse cannot be coincidental." A grim silence followed her words. "I remind you of our purpose. Hecate will deal with equal finality with any further incompetence!"

Hercules listened to Herpatia issuing orders for two of the men into the woods to find saplings for constructing a stretcher. He hardly listened, however; his hope and excitement were so great he could hardly contain them. But until his strength returned or until he was out of his bonds, the best course he could see was to make himself as much as a burden and a source of delay as possible.

*I can do that much.* Hercules fought his urges to action *It won't be easy, but I can do it. Come on, Iolaus! If you're out there, hurry up!*

Iolaus and Cleite glanced at each other again. Hermes' reverie had lasted for about five minutes now, and they were beginning to wonder what was going on.

At last the brown eyes opened. As Hermes caught sight of the two anxious faces staring at him, he laughed. "Yes, my children?"

"Ah, you were saying something about three gifts ..." Iolaus prompted.

"So I did, and I just gave you the first one," Hermes said, slyly. As Cleite looked around for some tangible evidence, his grin broadened. "No, Cleite. The gift I've given you is a broken wagon and an injured horse for Hercules' captors."

"You can do that?" Cleite asked, her eyes round.

"Of course I can," Hermes replied, smugly, brushing an insect from his spotless white kilt. "I'm not just the god of communication and thievery, remember?"

Iolaus grinned. "You're also the god of travelers!"

"You got it, ace." Hermes studied Iolaus and his smile faded. "Iolaus, the second gift is for you in particular. You know, you don't look so good."

Iolaus, leaning heavily on his staff, scowled up at the god impatiently. "Duh."

Cleite caught her breath, but Hermes chuckled. "Boy, you crack me up! Yeah, I had a firm grasp of the obvious there, but I was introducing my second gift. In order for you to help Herc out, you've got to be in better form. So, since Apollo owed me one, I had him fill my cadeusus with healing power. All you have to do is to touch it, and you'll be healed ... well, temporarily, anyway."

Hermes held out his snake-entwined staff. Iolaus looked askance at the coiled vipers and shuddered. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Hermes dimples deepened. "Trust me."

"This from the god of mischief and thievery," Iolaus said, in a quick aside to Cleite. He sighed, straightened and reached out his hand. "Oh, what the hell?"

As his hand slowly neared the staff, the entwined snakes, which until this moment had seemed almost unreal, hissed loudly. Iolaus gulped and looked at Hermes, who nodded reassuringly. The snakes continued to hiss but did not move, and Iolaus' fingers carefully touched the orbed end of the cadeusus. There was s sudden crackling sound. Iolaus' whole body jerked, then he fell to his knees. Cleite bent anxiously to help him up.

"Well?" she whispered, watching him. "How do you feel?"

But almost immediately she could see the answer for herself. Iolaus' color improved as though a wave passed over his face. The dark bruised circles under his eyes faded and his skin took on a healthy glow. He stood straighter and grasped her hand, grinning.

"It worked," he cried, turning back to Hermes. "I feel great! The headache and nausea and dizziness are gone!"

"Good. Just remember, it's a temporary effect. Eventually, this energy will be gone, and you'll pay for it." "I don't care -- it's worth it!" Iolaus answered, laughing, He stretched, tossed the staff into the air, and caught it again. "So what's our last gift?"

"Something else to level the playing field a little more. Observe!"

Hermes removed a tiny, round crystal bottle from his satchel. Cradling his cadeusus under his arm, he slowly grasped the head of one of the vipers that coiled around it. Squeezing the snake's mouth carefully, he caused several drops of venom to be dropped into the bottle. He then did the same with the other serpent.

When he was done, he fitted a crystal stopper securely into the mouth of the bottle and held it up for them to see the small amount of opaque golden fluid within. "Sauce for the goose. This poison is ten times stronger and faster than anything on Earth." Hermes held up a cautioning hand, and his face looked almost serious briefly. "But it's very important that you use it *only* as the last resort."

He tossed the flask gently to Iolaus who caught it gingerly and gave it to Cleite to put in her carry sack. Hermes' infectious smile returned.

"Any questions, kids?" he asked, regarding the two mortals affectionately, his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, I've got one," Iolaus answered. He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes as he studied the handsome messenger god. "If you can do all this, why can't you just rescue Herc and whisk him back here for us?"

Hermes laughed. "That's my boy! Good question, Iolaus. I guess I could tell you that we gods can set up the circumstances, but you humans must solve the problems in order to grow."

As Iolaus regarded Hermes, a slow, grudging grin brought his dimples to his face and made his sapphire eyes sparkle with the same mischief that shone in the gods' brown eyes. "But that's not really why all of you do it like this, is it?"

"Nah," Hermes replied. "It's just a whole lot more fun this way!"

Iolaus laughed and shook his head. "Thanks for the help, anyway."

Hermes began to float upward as the wings of his sandals and hat began to beat. "Now, go save Hercules, Iolaus! Farewell, Cleite, my daughter!"

As Cleite spoke her good-bye, Hermes disappeared with an echo of bright laughter and a million shimmering motes of mercury.

"Well, Cleite, are you ready to run?" Iolaus asked, eagerly.

She grinned as she kilted up her skirts and fastened her carry sack more securely over her shoulder. "I'm a thief, Iolaus -- I'm always ready to run!"

And the two of them raced off on Hercules' trail in the full brightness of the morning sun.

Hercules was jolted out of an uneasy doze as one of the stretcher poles broke for the third time.

"Fools!" Herpatia cried, striding back to them. "How can this have happened again?"

"It's the trail, my Lady," the Captain explained, reasonably, as the guards set down the broken stretcher. "It is growing too rough for carrying a man in this fashion, especially one of his size."

"No matter," Herpatia replied, having now seen that Hercules had awakened with clear eyes before he'd had time for pretense. "Ah, so you are awake! Then it's time you walked, Hercules."

Hercules looked up at Herpatia and the soldier priests calmly. "Why should I?"

Herpatia's eyes narrowed, and her cold, beautiful face set cruelly. "What did you say?"

"I said, why should I?" Hercules replied, sternly. "What can you do to me to make me move? You can't kill me -- you need me alive. You've already killed my best friend -- or at least you think you have." Cold fear gripped Hercules' heart as he imagined that all his hopes might end with that grim truth. "You have nothing to hold over me to make me move."

Herpatia's eyes glittered with fury and hatred. "Oh, so, god-spawn -- you think I cannot make you suffer enough agony to cause you -- yes, even you, Hercules -- to do just as I want? Among my potions, I have all the dark strength of Hecate. With them, I could cause you such pain and suffering as you have never known. And if that is not enough motivation, I can arouse the power of both Hecate *and * Hera to be visited upon your mother, or Jason her husband, or Iphicles your brother, or --"

"All right, all right," Hercules said, curtly. "You've made your point. I'm getting up. How about one of you bozos untie me and give me a hand here?"

One of the guards, grinning evilly, stepped forward and loosened the rope that held Hercules fast to the stretcher. Hercules, rolling suddenly to his feet, hands still bound, kept his body bent and struck the guard in the midsection with his head. The guard went flying backwards, gasping as his air left his lungs. Halting and swinging around, keeping his feet despite the unusual dizziness he felt, Hercules used his momentum to lever a kick at the knees of the next guard running toward him. This man fell heavily and Hercules danced out of his way, ready for the next oncomer.

"Seize him, you fools!" Herpatia screamed. Another soldier met Hercules' kick, which was still strong regardless of the fact that it was much less than half his usual strength. However, the drug also robbed him of much of his stamina and balance, for as he was struck by dizziness and vertigo, two guards grabbed him from behind, and was unable to twist free.

"You've gone too far, godspawn. Teach him a lesson, Captain," Herpatia ordered, with dark satisfaction.

As two of the soldier priests held him tightly, the Captain stepped up. Another big man, his arm muscles bunched as he cracked his knuckles. Suddenly, he struck a quick, solid blow to Hercules' belly, and the son of Zeus doubled over in pain and breathlessness. The man brought his fist in a smashing uppercut to Hercules' jaw as his head was down. Hercules reeled from the blow. The Captain used locked fists to crack across Hercules' cheekbone.

Finally, an interminable time later, as Hercules sagged in his captors' arms, Herpatia cried, "Enough! He must be able to walk. He's still whole enough for the ceremony. Get some water. And you, godling, any more little episodes like that, and Hecate will visit your family for certain."

Water was splashed on Hercules' face which brought him to full consciousness. "Walk, by-blow of Zeus, or your family dies."

He looked at Herpatia, one eye purpling, his lips and jaw swollen and bruised, but with a cold, blue fury in his eyes. "You haven't won yet," he spat.

"Forward!" the dark priestess ordered. "We shall be to the border of our land by nightfall!"

The party started off, with Hercules stumbling in their midst. His body was still weak, but his rage was growing stronger with every step ...

Meanwhile, not much later, Iolaus and Cleite had found the remains of the wagon and the dead body of unlucky Antiphos, then a little farther along the abandoned stretcher. Iolaus examined the last area carefully and summoned Cleite with an excited shout.

"Here's okay, Cleite! He's able to walk, at least. Here's his boot print!" As Cleite joined him, Iolaus pointed out the track. "We can't be far behind now; these are fresh prints." He leaped up, ready to run.

Cleite caught his arm. "Iolaus -- have you thought of what we'll do when we catch up with these ...these Serpent People?"

"I've haven't been thinking of much else," he told her, impatiently. "I want to rescue Herc and beat the sh --- uh, the stuffing out of these goons."

"I know you do, but think about it a little," she said, seriously, as they began to walk quickly on the trail. "There're still five guards, and Hercules still must not have his strength back. And that Priestess -- Iolaus, she's really evil. If she has drugs to put you 'n' Hercules out, and to take his strength away, who knows what else she could do? We can't meet 'em face-to-face, not yet."

Iolaus stopped, and looked at her attentively. "You're a smart kid, Cleite. You're right -- I've been so worried about Herc and abbout catching up to these people that I haven't stopped to think what I'm gonna do once I do catch up -- "

"What *we're* gonna do, you mean," she interjected with a challenging grin.

Iolaus started to speak, but stifled his first response. "Okay," he grinned, "what *we're* gonna do." He glanced up the trail, seeing the barren, rocky foothills giving way to steeper slopes covered in pine forest. "Herc and I came through this way once, a long time ago, coming back from a campaign in Illyria. The few people we met in these foothills called this area 'the haunted land' and never said why. Now I guess I know, if Hecate's Serpent People live up in those mountains."

He glanced back at her. "If you're ready for some cross-country running, I think we might be able to get ahead of them and be able to see what we're up against, and maybe try to even the odds a little."

"Let's do it!"

Hercules stumbled again on the steep trail, but this time it was deliberate. Though his body still ached from the beating he had taken, he had been feeling his strength return even faster this time, and he was wondering if Herpatia had miscalculated the dose she had given him last time. As his strength improved, his hope had diminished. They were getting closer to the borders of the Serpent People with every step, and he worried that if Iolaus had been alive, he would have made his move by this time. Hercules crushed the anguish that rose in his heart at this thought.

*I'll mourn him later, when there's time.* He pushed away the anguish, kept the rage, and looked about him at the tall dark forest, seeking ideas for escape. If he could just elude the guards briefly, his flight would be aided by the thick trees, the tall rhododendrons and the silent carpet of deep pine needles.

Suddenly, there was a cry from the back of the line of guards. The guard Captain and Herpatia, who had been walking in front of Hercules, swung around, and called a halt. A soldier priest came running up to them.

"What is it, Ochon?" the Captain snapped. Hercules studied the pale face of the soldier with his dead hope rekindling. This guy had bad news, and was afraid of having to tell it.

"Sir, my Lady -- Themis was walking rearguard. He was ranging within my view about every ten or fifteen minutes to check in. About half an hour ago, he was gone longer than usual, so I went back to check. Sir -- I haven't found him anywhere!"

"And you're sure he's not just answering a call of nature or anything like that?"

"No, sir, he would have let me know," Orchon replied, glancing anxiously at Herpatia's narrowed eyes. But the Serpent Priestess' thoughts were not on him. She studied the silent woods angrily. The Captain, Orchon and the other two guards waited for her to speak.

Her voice was compressed with rage. "Captain, your thoughts?"

"I'd like Orchon to take Tabar and backtrack to find Themis' tracks and see what they can learn. Maron and I will stay here with you," the Captain replied crisply.

"Very well; let it be done," Herpatia snapped.

The two guards moved off immediately. Hercules, studying their faces, decided they were much more frightened of the Serpent Priestess than whatever unknown they might face out in the woods. As they disappeared into the woods, Herpatia whirled on Hercules.

"No doubt you think this is the work of your 'dead' friend," she sneered.

Hercules shrugged. "It's either him or you've got some pretty incompetent guards," he replied dryly.

Herpatia struck him and left scratches on his face from her long nails.

"You know, that doesn't change what's happening," Hercules said with a small smile.

Herpatia reptile eyes burned with fury, but she did not answer. She led the Captain away and engaged him in low-voiced conversation. Hercules glanced at the other guard and saw his attention was on the forest. The son of Zeus tested his strength against his bonds. Not long now, he thought.

Hercules surveyed the surrounding trees. "Iolaus, if it is you, be careful," he whispered anxiously.

Iolaus was being careful, although caution had not been his first reaction. He and Cleite had run their shortcut rapidly and far enough ahead of their quarry to find a vantage point where they could watch the group pass by. Luckily, Cleite had thought to glance at Iolaus when Hercules, battered and bleeding, had come into sight. Afraid of the unthinking rage and anguish blossoming on his face, Cleite had grabbed his arm with one hand, and stifled his incipient shout with the other hand. Her small strength could not have held him, but it was enough to bring him to his senses, to remind him of their continued need for stealth and silence. Then, they had cooperated to take down the rear guard, with Iolaus getting the guard to chase him, and Cleite's well-slung stone knocking him out.

As Iolaus completed knotting the gag on the bound, unconscious soldier-priest, Cleite said, "Y'know they're going to come looking for him, don't you?"

Iolaus looked up grinned and said, "I sure hope they will. And you and I are going to be waiting for them when they do. Come on!"

She matched his grin and followed him through the forest, to the point where they had captured the rearguard. There Iolaus covered their trail, and he and Cleite quickly prepared to ambush the searchers. It wasn't long before they heard careful footsteps coming closer from the direction of the trail.

"Get ready," Iolaus breathed to Cleite in her hiding place, and melted away soundlessly into the underbrush. She held her breath, waiting, trying to watch the area he had instructed, but also trying to watch in other directions as well.

Suddenly there was a muffled shout, and Cleite heard footsteps dashing towards her. From her screened position, she glimpsed Iolaus darting through the trees towards her, in and out through patched of early afternoon sunshine and deep shade. Close behind him and closing the distance was another of the soldier-priests of Hecate. He dashed past her without looking her way.

She heard the other's running steps getting closer ... closer. *Now!* she thought, and pulled sharply on the thick, rope like vine she held in her hand. The vine stretched taut four inches above the forest floor just as the running soldier came abreast of her position. The man's foot caught before he'd even realized the vine was there. He fell heavily. Cleite leaped out of her hiding place and struck the man over the head with a stout branch. He collapsed completely.

She heard a coarse cry, and glancing up, saw another of the guards running through the trees towards her, sword in hand, obviously witness to his fellow's ambush. She pretended to freeze and cringe, but under her breath, muttered, "Come on, Iolaus!"

As if the thought impelled the deed, Iolaus came flying from the underbrush and tackled the priest from the side. They landed with the smaller warrior on top, wrestling for the sword. The soldier, larger and bulkier than Iolaus, was able to throw him off, but before he could get to his feet and take advantage of the situation, Iolaus had rolled to his feet. With a lightning fast swirl of his whole body, Iolaus kicked the sword out of the soldier's hand and smashed his curled knuckles into the man's solar plexus. With a choked cry, the priest of Hecate fell to his hands and knees, whooping for breath.

Cleite came running with the vines, and together they trussed the guard and gagged him with a scrap of Cleite's shift.

"Now for one last bit of insurance," Iolaus said. He pressed his fingers to the guards' neck at the pulse points and held them till the man slumped against his bonds.

"If you were gonna kill him, why'd we have to tie him up?" Cleite asked.

Iolaus grinned at her mix of astonishment and irritation. "Oh, he's not dead. It's a trick I learned in the East. Just knocks the victim out for a good while. These vines won't hold them forever, and we've still got to get the last two, and that damned priestess."

"So, how're we going up against 'em?" Cleite wanted to know.

Iolaus' grin faded to a look of steel determination as he answered. "Okay, here's what I've got in mind ..."

The surrounding wood was silent and breathless, as though listening along with the four people who stood on the narrow trail. The mid-afternoon sunlight alternately brightened and faded as scudding clouds began to sail in from the east. As each moment fled, Hercules felt his hope growing as anger, fear, and confusion grew in his companions. Herpatia stood, lips compressed in white fury, staring at the trees as though each was her enemy. The Captain stood near Hercules, outwardly composed, but his inward tension evident in his ready stance and constantly shifting gaze. The younger Maron was obviously nearing the end of his patience, as his fear of the unknown menace grew. He paced restlessly back and forth, his eyes searching the curve of the track down which Orchon and Tabar had disappeared.

Suddenly, there were faint cries and echoes of running feet, made incomprehensible by distance and the muffling layer of trees. Maron began to run down the road in the direction his mates had disappeared.

"Maron -- halt!" the Captain snapped.

The younger soldier whirled. "But Captain, let me go see if --"

"Silence!" his commander roared, and the young man subsided, turning back to study the track with growing intensity and dismay as eerie silence descended once again. After a few moments, when there was no sign of the soldiers returning, Herpatia gripped her blowgun more tightly and caught the ropes binding Hercules, as though ready to pull him down the track.

"Captain, come, we shall make haste to our border. If we get a start on them, we can ..."

Maron whirled back toward Herpatia. "But my Lady, the men -- !"

"Enough!" she screamed at him. "They do not matter. We must return with this one now!"

"NO! We must -- !"

"My Lady -- !"

In the confusion of voices none at first noticed the rapidly increasing *whirring* sound. By the time they realized it was an alien sound, two stones rocketed through the air. One struck Maron and knocked him to his knees; the other stone just missed him. Herpatia and the Captain whirled to see Cleite disappearing into the underbrush with her empty sling. The Captain started to give chase when there was a sudden shout from the other side of the track.

The captain whirled as Iolaus came swinging out of the trees on a sturdy vine with his ash staff in hand. Iolaus struck the Captain with the staff and dropped down on him, tumbling them both to the ground. The two of them rolled to their feet and faced off.

But Hercules saw that Maron, who had merely been stunned by Cleite's blow, had recovered his senses and was approaching Iolaus stealthily from behind.

*Now!* his mind exulted. "IOLAUS! Behind you!" he shouted. As Iolaus whirled and blocked the downward swing of Maron's sword, Hercules ripped through his ropes and chains with all the power of his recovered strength. He closed the distance between himself and the soldier Captain with quick strides. The Captain, though large and strong, was still no match for Hercules. A flurry of quick blows, and the man was down, unconscious on the road.

Iolaus had caught Maron's downward-thrusting sword arm, swung up under him, and used the soldier's forward momentum to flip the larger man onto his back. When Maron hit the ground heavily, Iolaus struck him once, a lightening fast blow to the throat that knocked him out.

Iolaus looked up to find Hercules grinning down at him. "What took you so long?" the son of Zeus asked, in pretended puzzlement.

Iolaus laughed, relief and deeper emotions warming his blue-topaz eyes. "Well, you see, Herc -- "

All at once, the pleasure and color drained from his face. "HERC! Look out --!" he dashed towards his friend and launched a flying tackle that brought Hercules down by the sheer force of suddenness and surprise.

"What in Tartarus -- " Hercules began, but a whirring sound interrupted him. There was an abrupt, angry cry, and the two friends looked up to see the blowgun struck from Heraptia's hands -- the blowgun she had been aiming toward Hercules. Cleite's aim had again been true.

Herpatia turned to flee, but Cleite faced the Priestess, her sling whirring threateningly.

Iolaus grinned down at Hercules. "That, among other things, is what took me so long."

Hercules grinned back at his friend. "Thanks, buddy. That's one more I owe you," he said, with a quick hug of Iolaus' shoulders.

Iolaus laughed, then jumped up and pulled Hercules up. Hercules strode to stand before the Priestess of Hecate. Without taking his eyes from hers, Hercules said, "Tie those men up before they come around, Iolaus." "With pleasure." Iolaus moved to obey. Herpatia suddenly swung around and tried to grab him. Hercules leapt after her, pulled her back and held her by the wrists as she spat curses at him.

"I've had about enough of you," Hercules snapped. "Iolaus, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." The smaller man gathered up some of the vines nearby to tie up the guards. "You know, we both owe a debt to a new friend, Herc," Iolaus said, indicating Cleite walking toward them with her sling dangling from her hand. Hercules smiled at the girl, as he held the venomously, impotently spitting Herpatia by the wrists. Cleite smiled back, nervously glancing at the angry priestess.

As he continued his task, Iolaus went on with the introduction. "This is Cleite, Hercules. She saved me from the soldiers who were going to kill me."

Hercules smiled down at Cleite with a special warmth in his sky-blue eyes. "Then I'm forever in your debt, Cleite."

"And I sure couldn't have saved you without her help, " Iolaus went on. He tied the last knot, and stepped to Cleite's side. With a quick grin he added, "Oh, and also without the help of Hermes, as well."

"Hermes?!" Hercules said in some surprise, looking back at Iolaus. "He helped save me?"

Suddenly, Herpatia stopped her struggling and cursing, and laughed, a low, poisonous sound. "Oh, you're not saved quite yet, godspawn." As she spoke, her hand twisted in Hercules' grasp, the ring on her third finger snapped open as her thumb pressed a catch. Iolaus, leaping forward too late, caught a sparkle of light from the westering sun reflected on a sharp needle within.

And then she plunged it into Hercules' palm.

It was over before anyone could react. Hercules gasped and released her hands. Iolaus cried out and knocked the woman away, grasping Hercules' hand and examinng it. Cleite ran to the side of the track and caught up the stout ash staff Iolaus had dropped there. She came running back and stood before the Serpent Priestess, the staff held menacingly before her.

Iolaus, meanwhile, was looking up at Hercules, still clutching his wrist and hand. "Herc, how do you feel?" Iolaus asked, watching his friend's face in desperate anxiety.

Hercules looked from his palm, where a single drop of blood welled from the puncture, to his friend's worried face. "I'm okay, I think, Iolaus. I don't feel an immediate weakness, like I did with that other potion she gave us."

"No, you won't," Herpatia agreed, folding her arms and smiling with malicious content, watching Hercules' face intently. "But this is a different potion, designed to overcome your mind and make you my willing slave."

Hercules looked back at Iolaus and saw his own horror mirrored in his best friend's eyes. Iolaus' hands tightened on Hercules' wrist. "Oh, no!" Iolaus breathed.

The sly, cruel voice of the Priestess seemed to slice between them. "Oh yes! And in just a few moments, you will do anything -- *anything* at all -- that I tell you to do!"

"NO!" Hercules shouted and pulled his hand from Iolaus' grip, backing away from him quickly. "Iolaus -- take Cleite and get out of here!"

Iolaus followed heedlessly. "No, damn it, Hercules! I'm not leaving you!"

"Blast you, Iolaus! Don't be so bloody stubborn!" Hercules said, fiercely, as a tear coursed unnoticed down his cheek. "Get out of here before her damned potion makes me hurt you!"

"I'm not leaving without you!" Iolaus shouted, tears of rage and anguish in his own eyes. "Let's get her before the stuff starts to work!"

Herapatia smiled cruelly as they stalked towards her.

"Too late!" she sang, with an evil laugh. Then pitching her voice slightly lower, she commanded. "Stop, Hercules!"

Hercules froze in mid-stide. "Now -- stop your friend." Hercules' arm shot out, slamming Iolaus a bone-jarring blow on the shoulder. Iolaus struck the ground heavily. Looking up, trying to catch his breath, he saw the recognition fading from Hercules' eyes as the pupils began to dilate.

In a strangled voice, Hercules whispered, "Iolaus -- forgive me!"

And suddenly all recognition faded as the dark pupils almost obscured all the blue in Hercules' eyes. He stood, motionless and expressionless, his eyes locked on Iolaus.

"Kill him!" Herpatia ordered, triumphantly.

As Hercules began to advance toward him, Iolaus leapt up and began talking. "No, Herc! You know it's me! Fight her, damn it, fight her!" He dodged a powerful blow and danced away. Hercules pursued him, and Iolaus despaired of the horrible deadness of his eyes. "Come on, Herc! I know you're still with me -- fight it!"

Iolaus used every trick he'd learned in the East, and all of his long knowledge of Hercules' fighting style, to stay away from the roundhouse blows that the son of Zeus launched. He bobbed and danced and ducked, staying just out of reach, talking constantly, trying to reach his friend's true self locked deep inside. But it was inevitable that a punch would connect eventually. When it did, the blow was a glancing one, the side of Hercules' fist barely striking Iolaus' chin, but still the smaller man was knocked through the air several feet to land near Cleite's feet.

She stepped quickly to Iolaus' side, and pulled him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"Are you kidding?" Iolaus snapped, wiping blood from a cut on his lip, his eyes on Hercules. His voice softened. "Sorry, Cleite, but I'm not okay. My best friend's under a spell and trying to kill me!"

She thrust the staff in his hands. "You may have to use drastic measures to keep you both alive. Look out!"

They dashed apart as Hercules came after Iolaus. Herpatia's malicious laughter filled their ears as Hercules caught Iolaus' vest, nearly catching Iolaus as the blond warrior wriggled out of the vest and danced away. Hercules dropped the vest and continued after his dodging quarry.

"Come on, Herc! You're a demigod, and the strongest man on Earth or all of Olympus -- fight the spell!" Iolaus shouted, tryiing to penetrate to some core of understanding. He talked on and on as he dashed around trees, darted behind underbrush and scrambled between Hercules' legs. He babbled about their childhood, their families, their adventures and Hercules' relatives until he was panting with exertion as much from the talking as from the running. Several times Hercules nearly caught him, and Iolaus had to use the staff, wincing as he struck his friend's hands, arms and sides. The demigod remained emotionless and inexorable, however, and Iolaus began to despair.

Hercules suddenly caught Iolaus by one arm, causing him to drop the staff. Hercules began backhanding his best friend across the face with a closed fist. With his free arm, Iolaus was able to deflect some of the blows, but most of them landed.

Cleite dashed up and grabbed up the staff, shouting, "Iolaus -- is this the last resort?"

Iolaus, distracted by her words, took another blow across the cheekbone. As the taste of blood filled his mouth, the sense of her words penetrated his fuzzy thoughts.

"NO!" he shouted, in sudden terror. "Not to him!" Adrenaline gave him an abrupt surge of strength, and Iolaus slashed a bladed hand into a certain junction of nerves in Hercules' arm. The iron grip that hand held the smaller warrior fast suddenly went numb, and Iolaus stumbled away. Cleite darted in before he could stop her and whacked the staff across Hercules' knees, buying Iolaus a moment of respite as the big man went down.

Iolaus pulled Cleite away. Tense, bloodied, breathing like a bellows, Iolaus grasped her shoulders and whispered desperately, "You can't use the poison on Herc, even if he kills me. If it looks bad for me, you run away! If she has Herc to take back, she should be satisfied. But please, try to reach Corinth. Herc's brother Iphicles is king there -- he'll help you and come after Herc."

"But, Iolaus -- what if he --"

"Kills me?" Iolaus and Cleite looked over to where Hercules was slowly picking himself up off the ground. "I've never thought that he could, whatever the sorcery, but now I don't know --"

Suddenly, Iolaus shouted, "Look out!" and pushed Cleite away violently. As she stumbled away from the force of the push, it was a moment before she could turn. When she did, a frightened gasp caught in her throat.

Hercules had grasped Iolaus with both large hands around his neck and raised him in the air. The demigod tightened his hold, and Cleite watched Iolaus' face first turn red, and then began to turn blue as he dangled, struggling.

"Hercules! NO!" she shouted. She dropped the staff and began searching frantically for stones, found some, but when she reached for her sling in its usual place on her belt, it was gone! Cleite cursed and looked around in a panic.

"Is this what you're looking for, you impudent little busybody?"

Cleite looked up to see her sling dangling from Herpatia's hand, and her heart sank.

Iolaus only dimly aware of all this, found his vision and senses failing. Staring into his best friend's darkened, alien eyes, he choked out, "Herc -- always be back to back heroes ... brothers. I forgive you!"

All at once a dim blue light dawned in those alien eyes. Slowly the pupils shrank back down on themselves, as though fought desperately by the familiar sky-blue. The stranglehold around his neck loosened as Hercules uttered a horrified, "Iolaus!" and dropped him. Iolaus, coughing and wheezing, fell to earth, barely managing to keep to his feet.

All at once a dim blue light dawned in those alien eyes. Slowly the pupils shrank back down on themselves, as though fought desperately by the familiar sky-blue. The stranglehold around his neck loosened as Hercules uttered a horrified, "Iolaus!" and dropped him. Iolaus, coughing and wheezing, fell to earth, barely managing to keep to his feet.

"Iolaus!" screamed Cleite. He snapped his head to her as she caught up the thick ash staff and tossed it to him. Iolaus caught the staff and turned back to Hercules even as the bewildered blue of his friend's eyes again began to be swallowed up by the dilating pupils. Herpatia was screaming to Hercules to kill him, and the demigod, with a forgotten tear tracking down his high cheekbone, stepped toward Iolaus to obey.

"Now, forgive me, Herc!" Iolaus whispered, and brought the staff slicing through the air, striking Hercules on the side of the head with an audible crack. The big man fell like a stone, and Iolaus cried out in wordless anguish, throwing down the staff and falling to his knees by his friend.

"Oh, gods, Herc, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he babbled, turning Hercules, and feeling for his pulse. He impatiently dashed away the tears that threatened to obscure his vision, after touching the large lump that was swelling just above Hercules' ear. "Please, please, be okay!" He was barely aware of Cleite kneeling beside him, talking.

All at once, two things penetrated his thoughts. Reassuringly beating against his fingers was the incredibly powerful, slow throbbing of Hercules' pulse. And Cleite's crowing assurance, "He's alive -- he's okay!" finally made sense to his addled brain. Iolaus, laughing and crying all at once, caught her hand, his other hand still on Hercules' face.

"Yeah, he is -- isn't he?" he replied, laughing with her in exhausted relief. But suddenly terrible realization flooded both their faces at once. "Herpatia!" they cried, and turned to face their enemy.

"I have had my fill of you insects!" the Dark Priestess screamed. From a deep pocket of her midnight robes, she pulled a flask which appeared as though carved from a single piece of black jade. She ripped the stopper from the flask, put it to her lips, and drank.

Abruptly, Herpatia threw back her head and screamed as though in agony. Both Iolaus and Cleite huddled together protectively over Hercules' unconscious body. They watched in horrified amazement as the High Priestess of Hecate writhed in what appeared to be either mortal anguish or else a pleasure too powerful for mortal senses.

Iolaus gasped, "By the gods!" Cleite choked off a small scream as Herpatia's body began to change, to pulsate, to transmogrify in some grotesque metamorphosis. Her head and neck elongated and rose higher as her shoulders and arms melted into her sides and disappeared. Her dark robes were absorbed somehow, lending their color to what was now the gleaming, blue-black scaly sheen of her skin. Her legs grew together in a fluid column that began to spread out in a long curving coil behind her. The transformation was nearly complete, and it was terrifying.

Rising and curving upward higher and higher above them was a great, black Serpent that had once been Herpatia, High Priestess of Hecate, and obviously much of her remained. A tangible, evil intelligence glittered balefully in the green, slit-pupiled eyes. The monster's tongue hissed out past the giant, viciously sharp fangs, and acid dripped from the tongue's forked tip.

Iolaus shook himself out of his stunned stupor. Grabbing up the staff he had dropped and catching up one of the discarded swords of the soldier priests, and leapt up and swung a powerful blow just as the Serpent darted its great head down toward him. Any fear for himself was consumed by his terror that the evil creature should attack Hercules. As the Serpent recoiled from the stunning but otherwise harmless blow to its nose, he deliberately dodged away from his friend.

"Cleite -- move!" he cried, never taking his eyes from the weaving head and upper body of the monster. "Find your sling!"

The girl scrambled away as though released from a spell. "What bloody good is my sling going to do against that thing?" she shouted, terror making her voice tremble.

"This has got to be the last resort!" Iolaus shouted back. Suddenly his eyes widened and he cried out in terror and warning, leaping back as a projectile stream of acid fluid shot from between the vicious fangs. Acrid , corrosive smoke arose from the spot where Iolaus had just stood. Under the unexpected cover of the billowing smoke, Iolaus darted in and thrust his sword at the underbelly of the creature. The blade penetrated briefly, but the monster's powerful, jerk backwards nearly pulled the sword from Iolaus' hand and his shoulder from its socket. The small wound closed almost immediately.

Iolaus cursed breathlessly. He was barely aware of Cleite scrambling around the area in the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, trying to find where Herpatia had dropped her sling when the metamorphosis had occurred. He had enough to do to try to stay out of the way of the monster's darting attacks, as well as trying to keep the monster's attention from Hercules and Cleite. Worse yet, Iolaus was beginning to feel a slow, but steady draining of his strength. Some of the fatigue came from the fighting he'd done, but Iolaus feared that the predicted loss of Hermes' protective spell was beginning.

An abrupt cry of triumph told Iolaus that Cleite had located her sling. "How on Earth are we going to use the stuff?" she shouted to Iolaus.

"Get the bottle -- but don't take the stopper out. Put it in your sling and stand up on that little rise. Be ready when I say go!" Iolaus replied, dancing away from a quick thrust of the Serpent's head. He began to shout and jeer at the monstrous snake, flinging catcalls and jibes which he knew would anger the intelligence of the Dark Priestess that still dwelt within the horrid beast.

The great snake attacked Iolaus with vicious suddenness. The Serpent struck at him repeatedly as he danced and spun in front of it. Iolaus barely thrust the beast away with heavy blows of the heavy ash staff. Abruptly, the Serpent darted in faster than he could parry, and knocked him over, its fangs coming within inches of his bare chest.

The Beast rose up over him for a final strike. Iolaus heard Cleite screaming behind him, and shouted, "BE READY!" As the Serpent's great head swung down on him, Iolaus leapt to his feet and thrust the staff vertically into the wide open mouth. He fell backwards, avoiding the creature's fangs as the Serpent's head recoiled in frustration and anger at the obstruction in its mouth.

Iolaus heard Cleite's sling whirring as he watched the great jaws of the beast begin to splinter the staff.

"NOW, Cleite !!" he shouted. There was a snap of the sling and Iolaus saw the crystal bottle soar through the air, the poison glittering gold in the brilliant, near-sunset light, into the open mouth of the Serpent. The beast's jaws snapped shut, shattering the ash staff into bits, along with the crystal of the poison flask.

The great head of the Serpent dove toward Iolaus, fangs extended.

Iolaus found he was too weak and exhausted suddenly to even move. He watched the vision of death bear down on him with an apathy and fatalism born of that weakness. Iolaus thought he heard Hercules' voice screaming his name, though he wasn't sure. He wondered dreamily if this would be the last time he would hear his friend's voice, but he was just too tired to summon fear.

Suddenly, the Serpent froze in its onslaught. A wrenching convulsion swept down the length of the great body. The snake raised its head and uttered a hissing shriek of agony. Seizures wracked the beast's great frame, and then with a thin scream the terrible creature collapsed. Its head fell within a foot of where Iolaus lay. The evil green eyes glared at him with a dying fire that slowly died.

It was only then that Iolaus realized that he was being held and shaken by strong arms. He broke his fascinated gaze from the dead Serpent, and looked up into Hercules' desperately anxious face.

"Damn it, Iolaus, talk to me!" the son of Zeus was begging fiercely, shaking him. "Are you hurt? Did the Serpent bite you?"

"Hercules? You're okay? Really?" Iolaus said, slowly, studying his best friend with a bleary wonder.

"Would you forget about me?" Hercules demanded, giving Iolaus another shake. "Did ... the ... Serpent ... bite ... you?!" he snapped out deliberately, terror for his best friend still evident in his voice.

"No, she didn't."

Hercules sank back, still clutching Iolaus tightly, but with an ocean of relief washing through him. Iolaus' vision was clearing slightly, and he caught sight of the bruising around Hercules' hairline just above his ear. "Herc, is your head okay? I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

Hercules regarded Iolaus with a host of warring emotions on his face. Finally, a rueful smile parted the demigod's bruised and swollen lips. "Shades of Tartarus, Iolaus -- you're downed while destroying one of the most deadly enemies we've ever faced, and you're worried about giving me a little bump on the head? I wouldn't've cared if you'd cut my head off, to keep me from being the unwilling weapon that killed you." A shadow passed across Hercules' face and his voice shook at the thought.

"Well, I'd 've cared," Iolaus replied, closing swollen, purpled eyes against the dizziness that seemed to get worse and worse.

"Are you sure you didn't get bitten?" Hercules continued, worriedly. "You're getting paler by the moment."

"Oh, well, you see, Hermes healed me of the effects of the head injury Herpatia's men gave me so I was able ... to go after you, but the healing was only temporary. He told me it would wear off, and I'd feel even worse," Iolaus said, matter-of-factly, wondering which of the two Hercs he saw was the real one. "He was right. I guess the fight with that -- thing -- didn't help any. But it doesn't matter -- we won!"

Hercules shook his head in mute wonder as Iolaus went on. "My head's just not quite as hard as yours."

Hercules snorted at this, but his eyes were haunted. "I don't think so, buddy. Your head must be pretty damn hard to go through all you've gone through and still keep coming."

Iolaus shrugged, his eyes managed to focus steadily on his friend's. "They had you. That's all I thought about."

Hercules looked away a moment, his eyes closing. After a moment he looked back at Iolaus, and said, a bit unsteadily, "You had a head injury and did all this? Hermes must've come to you in Logos."

"No, Cleite did," Iolaus replied, gazing around dizzily. "Say, where is she?"

"I'm here," the young thief's face swam into Iolaus' blurred sight. "Hermes didn't come until much later, Hercules. Iolaus was in pretty bad shape through most of the chase, but he wouldn't stop. He's ... ah ... a bit more banged about now, but he was about like this through most of our journey, till Hermes healed him. Look -- I've got more herbal medicines in my carry sack. Shall I get them?"

"Yes, but not here," Hercules replied, glancing up at her with a brief smile and nodding toward the carcass of the horrible Serpent that had been the dark Priestess Herpatia. "I think we'd all be more comfortable away from this place."

"Amen to that!" Iolaus said fervently.

Hercules went on, glancing down at Iolaus with a smile that didn't quite hide his worry. "And I'd feel a lot safer if we weren't quite so close to the borders of Hecate's country." He glanced up at the sky, bright with the late afternoon sun. "We'll have about another hour and a half of light. I think we could reach those caves down where the foothills begin. Cleite, can you make it that much longer?"

She nodded. "Even if I was totally exhausted, I 'd make it. I don't care to stay around here at all." She glanced around at the guards, a couple of whom were beginning to stir slightly. "What should we do with these guys?"

Hercules glanced at the soldiers of Hecate. "Gather up their swords and daggers, and put them up the track a little way. It'll take them some time to wake up, get untied, and find their weapons. Meanwhile we'll be gone."

"That's letting 'em off pretty easy after what they nearly did to you, Herc," Iolaus said. "Can't we haul 'em to a magistrate or something?"

Hercules shook his head. "We're too tired, and you're hurt too bad to watch them. I think that seeing their High Priestess killed despite all her magic will make them think twice about anything but going home." He tightened his grip on Iolaus, as though to stand up holding him.

Iolaus began to stir, and push against Hercules' hold. "Hey, I can make it, too, Herc. I've had a bit of rest here. Let me up."

Hercules' tightened his grip. "Nothing doing, Iolaus. I'm carrying you."

"Aw, Herc, you know I hate that," Iolaus grumbled, still struggling, trying to ignore the dizziness and nausea as he did so. " And you got worked over pretty good. You don't need to be carrying me all that way. Come on, I can do it. Let me up!"

Hercules began to protest again which made Iolaus even more adamant. A small hand touched Hercules' arm, and he looked down into Cleite's rueful, elfin face. "Just let 'im, Hercules."

"But his injuries -- !"

"Yeah, Herc -- she's a healer. Listen to her!" Iolaus interrupted smugly.

As Hercules began to protest again, Cleite tightened her hand on his arm. With his full attention on her, and Iolaus watching Hercules, Cleite very deliberately winked. "Let him try it."

Light dawned in the demigod's blue eyes and he nodded slightly. "Okay -- you're the healer. Get up then, Iolaus. But can I at least help you?"

"Sure you can, Herc!" Iolaus replied, magnanimously. Hercules stood and helped Iolaus to his feet. Cleite stood on Iolaus' other side. As Hercules let go, Iolaus straightened his amulet on his bare chest.

"That's better, Herc. Gotta find my vest." The blond warrior began to step forward. "I'm glad you listened to -- "

Iolaus' face became bone-white, his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, and he crumpled forward. Hercules was right there to catch him. He swung his friend's unconscious form into his arms.

"To reason?" Herc asked, gently, looking down fondly into his hardheaded friend's battered, peaceful face. He glanced down at Cleite with a small smile. "I'm glad I did, too."

She grinned back up at him. "Well, it saved a fight."

"And the gods know he's done enough fighting for one day," Hercules said, quietly, bitterly. Then, as he realized Cleite's concerned eyes were on him, he asked, with an assumption of brightness. "Shall we go?"

"Please!"

And they walked quickly back down the mountain track.

Iolaus slowly returned to consciousness looking up at a firelit rock ceiling. For long moments, he was content to simply lie there, enjoying the warmth and lassitude, and not caring where he was or why. He was aware of soreness, and a bad taste in his mouth, but also the floating sensation of herbal medication.

As memories began to filter back in, he thought of Hercules and Cleite, and looked around for them. He glimpsed Cleite rising from the fire nearby. She turned and walked toward him. When she saw he was awake, she smiled.

"I thought you'd be waking soon," she said quietly, as she knelt beside him. "I've got you some more tea started. It'll be ready soon."

"Thanks. How long have I been asleep?" His voice was slightly raspy from sleep.

"About six hours. It's near midnight." Cleite dipped a scrap of cloth into an earthenware bowl of cold water and bathed Iolaus' face gently with it. The cold felt soothing to his swollen bruises. "It took us close to two hours to get here. The country's pretty rugged, y'know, and it was harder going in the twilight. I know Hercules was going slower for your sake and for mine, but I think he was pretty tired, too."

"Is he all right? Where is he?" Iolaus asked, quickly, anxiety threading through his numbness.

Cleite looked up and gestured to Iolaus' other side. Iolaus turned slowly, and saw Hercules beside him, still in a sitting position, but with his head resting against the rock outcrop that he leaned against, sound asleep. His face, still wearing a slight frown in sleep, bore the cuts and bruises of the beating he had taken at the hands of Herpatia's minions. Another scrap of cloth was held loosely in his hand.

"When we got here to the cave, he insisted on doing everything to set up camp and get you comfortable." Cleite's voice was soft; her eyes regarded Hercules with sympathy. "But after he hunted for us, I insisted on cooking. It was just as well -- he came over here by your side and he hasn't left since. He wouldn't eat."

"Is his head bothering him? Did I hit him too hard ?" Iolaus asked, equally softly, as he studied his friend worriedly.

Cleite shook her head. "No, I don't think it's that. Oh, he's tired and sore, sure, and still feeling a few of the effects of all those potions Herpatia used on him. That's why he fell asleep. But for the rest ... I don't know, Iolaus. I don't know him as well as you, but I think he's feeling really guilty. And I think it's about you."

"Guilty -- about me?" Iolaus said, bemused. "Why on Earth -- "

At that moment, Hercules jerked, as though in the throes of a dark dream. A moment later, he mumbled, "No!" and this time jerked himself awake. He sat up, looking around, bewildered and gasping.

"Herc! It's okay," Iolaus said quickly. He reached out and touched Hercules' leg, shaking it gently.

Hercules took a deep breath, and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Iolaus? Cleite? What time is it?"

"Close to midnight," Cleite said. "You weren't asleep that long."

Hercules shook his head. "I can't believe I fell asleep." He looked down at Iolaus. "How do you feel, buddy?"

Iolaus smiled. "Better. I just see one of each of you now. And y'know, that's a lot easier, because before I wasn't sure which of the four of you to look at."

Hercules returned the smile, but there was a shadow in the reflective blue eyes that Iolaus did not like. The son of Zeus reached out and felt Iolaus' head for fever. Feeling none, he sighed with some relief, but the shadow remained.

Hercules glanced up at the girl. "Cleite, are you okay? Have you slept?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. I could tell Iolaus was beginning to waken, and I thought I'd fix him some more medicine and tea to take when he woke up."

"That was a good idea. Is it ready?"

"Should be. I was just about to get it."

"If you'll get it ready, I'll make sure Iolaus takes it, and you can get some rest."

"Sure." She rose and stepped over to the fire.

Hercules took the scrap of cloth and the earthenware bowl of water that Cleite had been using and continued bathing Iolaus' face with the cold water. As he did so, Iolaus studied his friend's rather grim, preoccupied face.

After a moment, Iolaus asked, "So -- are you feeling okay, Herc?"

Hercules' eyes focused on Iolaus' face. "I'm okay, Iolaus. I'm a bit sore and stiff, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Herpatia's potions were pretty bad," Iolaus said, slowly. "You sure you're not feeling any after-effects?"

Hercules sat back and tossed the cloth into the bowl, shaking his head and frowning. "Blast you, Iolaus! Would you quit worrying about me? *You're* the one that nearly got killed a couple of times trying to save me, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Iolaus retorted. "I also remember you've taken the same risks for me, Herc."

Hercules' fists clenched. "It's never the same risks for us, Iolaus. That's the hell of it."

"Oh, and because I'm a puny mortal, I shouldn't take the same risks for you that you do for me?" Iolaus replied, heatedly, pulling himself up to lean on one elbow. "I thought we thrashed this out back when Echidna captured your mother, Herc. I also remember you saying once you'd never thought yourself too good for me. Don't start now."

"Shades of Tartarus -- too good for you?!" Hercules cried, his voice quietly fierce. "Iolaus, I think my friendship is pretty damned bad for you! I --"

He broke off abruptly. In the heat of their exchange, neither had noticed Cleite rising from the fire. She now knelt beside Iolaus and held out her battered cup, fragrant with steaming tea.

As Iolaus drank, she glanced quickly at both men's faces. She had wondered at Hercules' grim preoccupation earlier; the little she had unavoidably overheard helped her understand Hercules' guilt and Iolaus' impatience with it.

She somewhat deliberately yawned and stretched. "I will be glad of some rest, Hercules, if you don't need any more help."

"No, really, that's fine, Cleite. Get some sleep."

"I will." She moved to get up, but then stopped, and gazed at the two of them. "Y' know, I've never really had the chance to become close to anyone but my father. Never really knew friends could be as important as the two of you are to each other. I saw it first in your Warrior's dance, but now I've seen you live it out. You've given me a lot to think about, and to wish for. I hope I'm as lucky some day."

She smiled at their thoughtful, startled faces. "Goodnight," she murmured as she rose and slipped away to the other side of the fire, with a small, hopeful smile.

The two men replied with their "Goodnights". Iolaus turned to smile at Hercules as Cleite's words sunk in. Hercules, still troubled, studied him frowningly.

"She's right, you know," Iolaus said. He began to lay back; Hercules saw his stiffness and moved to help him. "What's important is our friendship. It doesn't really matter who saves who, or the degree of risk we each take." He looked at Hercules with his full heart in his eyes. "Herc, what matters is the bond we've always shared, the bond that you haven't even let death break."

Hercules nodded and their eyes acknowledged all that they had shared. After a brief moment, Hercules looked away and sighed. "That's all true, Iolaus, but I can't get past the fact that I attacked you today, injured you -- nearly killed you." He paused, swallowing convulsively.

Iolaus' smile had almost disappeared in a worried frown, but at these words, his face cleared. "Oh, so that's it," he said, gently, reaching a hand out to shake Hercules' arm emphatically. "Hercules, we both know that was Herpatia's potion doing that, not you."

"I should have been able to fight it," Hercules snapped bitterly, unwilling to be consoled or excused.

"Hercules, you *are* half-mortal, you know," Iolaus snapped back, stubbornly. "You can't expect --"

Hercules blue eyes blazed as they finally met Iolaus'. "Yes, and you're fully mortal, Iolaus. Yet still you couldn't kill me when Fortune took your memories of me and you ended up working for Zeno. It was impossible for you to even hurt me."

"I wasn't under the influence of powerful drugs and sorcery, Herc -- you were."

"Amnesia's a pretty powerful mental state, but you still couldn't hurt me then. What does it say about me that I could hurt you like I did, drug or no drug?" Hercules' voice was rough with unshed tears; he bent his head so that his long hair almost hid his face.

Iolaus sat up stiffly, leaning close to his friend. He grasped Hercules' arm and shook it. "It says you're human, and you can be hurt or drugged," he said, gently, but his voice steeled with passionate intensity. "But don't forget, Herc. You fought off her drug! Nothing could've stopped you from killing me, but your power and your love fought through, and you let me go. Damn it, Herc -- you couldn't kill me, either."

Hercules did not speak, or lift his head, but he put his arm around Iolaus' shoulders, clasped and held tight. After a moment, he spoke, his voice deepened and clotted with tears. "I know I'll see your face in nightmares as I saw it when I came to myself, with my hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Like I've already seen in other nightmares how your face looked when you warned me about the Fire Enforcer and died. But this time ... was worse, because *I* was killing you. And one day, between Hera, or Hecate or any of the others, it could happen."

"Herc -- I'm here. You didn't kill me, and I'm okay," Iolaus declared earnestly. "You've got to let go of this guilt. We've been through this before. I'm here today because I choose to be. You saved my life a hell of a lot more than you've endangered it. Your friendship is worth it all to me."

Hercules pulled away, dashing his gauntlet across his eyes impatiently, and turned away. "I know that you feel that way, Iolaus, but what kind of friend am I if --"

Hercules broke off as he caught the sudden sparkle of a shower of silvery droplets out of the corner of his eye.

"Uh, Herc -- " Iolaus began, even as Hercules was turning his head.

Hermes was suddenly sitting near them. The Messenger god sighed, but his dimples peeked as he spoke. "Brother, you are about the most stubborn guy I've ever known, and I've known *Ares*!"

Hercules sat up straighter and folded his arms, frowning menacingly at Hermes. "Hermes, don't you have any respect for people's privacy?"

"Well, in general I do, for the most part." Hermes leaned back, supported by his locked arms, apparently unimpressed by Hercules' threatening frown. "But I've had a special interest in this case, and my little daughter over there was sending up a petition for the two of you before she fell asleep."

The three men all looked over to where Cleite lay, slumbering in the shadows on the other side of the fire. "She was worried -- especially about you, Hercules. You're taking this guilt thing a bit too far, you know."

Iolaus nodded. "Just what I was trying to tell him, Hermes."

Hercules shot a piercing look at his best friend. "Don't encourage him, Iolaus." He looked back at Hermes. "And what would you know about guilt, Mr. Cattle Rustler?"

Hermes grinned, unabashed. "I know it either motivates or becomes a burden, and yours is mounting up to be quite a load, brother."

"Just because you've never felt any -- "

"Just because I haven't felt any doesn't mean I can't understand it," Hermes broke in, undeterred. "You've got a strong, true heart, Brother, and that's a great thing, but it will betray you if the high moral ground it steers you to leads you away from the people you love. Iolaus and the other people in your life who care for you don't care if loving you carries some risks. All love is risk, Hercules."

Hercules glared at his half-brother. "As if I didn't know," he growled.

Hermes eyes softened as he studied Hercules wounded eyes. "Yes, and your losses have made you afraid for Iolaus and your family. So, what do you do? Get out of their lives? Whether they would have it or not? Then will their pain at your loss not affect you at all, not give you any guilt? What if something happens to Iolaus or your mother that you might have averted --- how do you accept that guilt?"

Hermes glanced over at Cleite's sleeping form. "That little girl over there would give all she has to have what you have, Hercules. A true friend, a family that loves you, roots. Don't dishonor her by letting your guilt take it away from you."

Hercules stared at the youthful god for long moments, lost in thought. After a moment, he said, "Damn you, Hermes! When did you start to study logic?"

Iolaus let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "He's right, you know, Herc," the hunter said quietly.

"Of course I'm right," Hermes grinned. "I may not be Athena, but I'm more than just a trickster god. I'm multi-faceted -- you just haven't appreciated how much before, Brother."

Hercules grinned slowly. "Probably because of all the tricks and practical jokes, Hermes. I guess I should revise my thinking -- in a lot of ways."

"Good, that's just what I wanted to hear." He cocked his head, as though listening to a sound neither of the others could hear. "Well, speaking of Athena, it sounds like she has a message for me to deliver. Take care of my children, Hercules, and yourself! Ciao, Iolaus -- you really kicked some snake butt today!"

And with a brief, evaporating sprinkle of mercury, Hermes was gone.

Hercules looked back at the grinning Iolaus and grinned back. "You really did, you know. I didn't think you'd be alive as I woke up."

Iolaus laughed. "Well, I guess I'm a bit like Hermes -- multifaceted!" He looked at Hercules with suddenly mock-innocent blue eyes. "Is that good?"

Hercules laughed. "Yeah, but it'd be better if one of those facets was modesty." Iolaus grinned, unabashed, as Hercules continued. "But who else does he mean of his 'children'? I know he called Cleite daughter, but who else is his child?"

"That would be yours truly," Iolaus said, slowly easing himself back down to his former reclining position, and not minding Hercules' quick assistance in his soreness. "Apparently, Hermes considers me one of his flock, since I was a street kid, and a thief for a while." As Hercules laughed, he added, "Oh, and he likes my style."

Hercules shook his head, still laughing. "Well, they say it takes a thief to know one , or catch one, or something like that. The rest fits pretty well, too." He glanced over at the sleeping Cleite again. "You know, Iolaus, we really owe that little thief a debt of gratitude. I think we need to help her out. What do you say?"

Iolaus nodded, still smiling, but his eyes nostalgic. "Yeah, I think you're right. You did a pretty good job of it once before. Enough to be the key to my life changing completely."

Hercules acknowledged the warmth of Iolaus' eyes with his own. "Yeah, that worked out pretty well. Just like you coming to my rescue this time. We keep each other under our life's own key."

They were quiet for a moment, thinking of the times each had used that key. Finally, Hercules glanced up and over at Cleite, as an idea suddenly struck.

"Hey -- why don't we take her to Corinth? Iphicles and Rena would probably take her to their hearts."

Iolaus grinned. "As long as she doesn't steal the silver. No, really, that's a pretty good idea, Herc. She's really a very caring little person. She'd probably do well helping out with the baby, or something like that. We'll suggest it to her in the morning."

As Hercules at this point yawned widely. Iolaus smiled and said, "Nap or no, you need some rest, Herc. It's been a pretty busy couple of days. It's time even demigods were in bed."

"If I wasn't so sleepy I'd get you for that one, Iolaus. Remind me to do it tomorrow," Hercules said, with a sleepy chuckle as he found a comfortable position nearby.

"Sure, Herc -- good night," Iolaus replied, smiling, his eyes already closing.

As he fell into the arms of Morpheus, the last conscious thought that drifted through Iolaus' head was that he was very grateful that Hercules would be there for him to remind. *Thanks, Hermes...*

And peace descended in the cave and in the hearts now truly at rest ...

-- The End --

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