The squall had blown up from nowhere. A scant half-hour earlier, fluffy clouds had given no hint of the menacing black sky that lay behind them. Hercules and Iolaus had never fished these waters before; the boat that had seemed so substantial when they set out was being tossed on the waves like a piece of kindling. Hercules was beginning to fear that kindling would be all that was left of it before the storm subsided.
He fought the rudder as Iolaus struggled with the tangled sail.
"Cut it down, Iolaus!" he shouted, but the fierce winds swallowed the words. There came a crack so loud that it cut through the storm's howling as the mast gave way to the pounding, shearing off just above the boom. Freed from its restraint, the boom swung wildly, and Hercules watched in horror as it caught Iolaus full across the temple and swept him into the raging sea. Hercules searched the black water frantically, but there was no sign of his friend, and he knew that following Iolaus into the treacherous waves would be suicide. All he could do was battle for his own life and hope that he could find his way back to this spot after the storm to search for Iolaus' body. "At first the blood flowed heavily from the wound in Iolaus' temple as he sank to the floor of the sea, but as his pulse slowed so the blood slowed to a trickle, finally stopping as his heart ceased to beat. This far below the surface, it was hard to tell that a violent storm was pounding overhead. Small, silvery fish flickered past his motionless body; an eel regarded him incuriously from its hiding place in the rocks.
Another pair of eyes had followed his descent from the surface. He wasn't the first human she had seen the sea welcome into its embrace. Those other deaths had been witnessed with indifference; this human's passing stirred something in her.
A delicate hand parted the fronds of the kelp bed, and the being approached the body cautiously. Her white hair moved in the slow current as if in a gentle breeze; her jade eyes were thickly fringed with black lashes, her full mouth a little parted as she touched the still face.
"Poseidon!" she called in the words of the ritual she'd been taught as a child. "In the name of my mother, and of her mother before her, who was your daughter, give this human back his life, and let me enter his world."
"You know the terms, daughter of my daughter's daughter," came the deep voice of the god of the seas. "You have one week."
Gathering her human into her arms, she carried him to the surface. The storm had ended as suddenly as it had begun; the only sign it had left behind was the broken mast cradled on the waves. She gently eased her human's arms across the mast, supporting his head on its surface, and bent to his mouth, breathing life back into his lungs. At last his chest rose and fell of its own accord and the waxen pallor left his cheeks. As his eyelids fluttered, she whispered her name into his ear and disappeared beneath the waves, tail flashing iridescent in the sunlight.
Iolaus opened his eyes some time later to find Hercules leaning over him, face creased into an anxious frown. Dazed, Iolaus blinked up at him confusedly and said, "I just had the most peculiar dream. Great Zeus, have I got a headache!"
Putting a hand to his throbbing head, he struggled to sit up, only then realizing he was soaking wet and lying in the bottom of a boat. Hercules helped him onto the seat and enveloped him in a joyful bear hug.
"Take it easy, Herc!" Iolaus protested, emerging from his embrace. "What's going on, anyway? The last thing I remember was a storm -- this isn't the boat we were fishing in. Is it?" he added dubiously, looking around.
Hercules told him of his fear that Iolaus had been killed. "I came back this morning to find your body, and there you were, tangled in the mast ropes. I don't know how you survived, Iolaus, but I'm willing to thank every god there is for keeping you safe."
Iolaus clasped his friend's arm, then frowned. "It wasn't a god, Herc. It was a mermaid," he announced. "I thought I was dreaming, but it must have really happened. I'm pretty sure I was dead, and she brought me back to life."
"How much salt water did you swallow?" Hercules asked him, smiling. "Mermaids don't exist except in children's stories, Iolaus. You took quite a blow; you were probably delirious. Besides, you're already way over your limit for getting killed and coming back."
"Well... I could have sworn it was real, but I suppose if a guy with your connections doesn't believe in mermaids..."
"Let's get back and get you cleaned up and fed," Hercules said, slapping him on the back. He bent to the oars.
As they neared the beach, they spotted a figure lying at the edge of the surf. A few powerful strokes drove the boat up onto the sand, and the two leaped from the boat and ran to the still form. Hercules saw the slight movement of her breast under the thin garment she wore and picked her up, carrying her further up the beach. He was about to deposit her gently on the dry sand when she opened jade eyes and stared at him.
"You're not him," she said accusingly in a halting, strongly accented voice.
Hercules raised his eyebrows. "Sorry," he said. "Who were you expecting?"
She pushed at his chest until he let go of her. As her legs touched the ground she staggered, clutching at his shirt. "How can something I can't feel be so heavy?" she gasped, sinking to the sand.
"She must have been in the water for a long time to have gotten that dependent on the buoyancy," Iolaus observed, coming up behind Hercules.
She smiled at the sight of him. "You have no idea," she told him, stretching out a hand to him.
"Have we met?" he asked her as he helped her to her feet.
"You have kind eyes. My name is Mena. I didn't think the sun would be so hot. How do you feel?"
A little taken aback at the onslaught of non-sequiturs, he answered, "Thank you, I'm Iolaus, it is hot, isn't it?, and I feel fine, except for this headache."
She gently touched the cut on his forehead. The pounding receded almost immediately, and he reached up to find the wound completely healed.
"How did you do that?" he asked her, turning over her hand in his as if it could tell him. She dropped her head, her long white hair covering her face.
"It's -- something my family just knows how to do," she said, almost apologetically.
"Where did you come from?" Hercules asked her. She started at the sound of his voice. Hercules suspected she'd forgotten he was there.
"Over there," she said, waving a vague hand in the direction of the ocean.
"I didn't see a ship. Were you thrown off course? Was it wrecked by the storm, or did you fall overboard?" Hercules was greatly curious as to her origins. Her accent was unfamiliar to him, and she obviously wasn't telling everything she knew.
"Well, I'm definitely off course," she admitted. "But I'm sure everything will work itself out eventually. Who are you?" she asked him suddenly.
"This is Hercules," Iolaus told her casually, waiting for her reaction.
"How do you do," she said politely, unmoved. "Thank you for rescuing Iolaus."
"How did you know I rescued him?"
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked in alarm. "I don't know your language very well yet."
Iolaus drew Hercules aside. "Why are you interrogating her? This isn't like you, Herc," he said in a low tone. "Give the girl a break; she just washed up on a foreign shore, probably doesn't know anybody -- she's confused, that's all."
"You don't find her a little... unusual?"
"You mean compared to the normal people we usually run into? Like Typhon and Echidna, or maybe your sisters?" Iolaus retorted.
Hercules conceded the point, and turned to Mena, who watched them anxiously. "We're on our way into town. If you'd like to come with us, we'll see if we can find out something about your ship," he offered.
Her face cleared. "Oh, yes, please. I'd like to go with you very much."
They had been walking for about half an hour, Mena fending off their questions with cryptic replies, when she stumbled. She sat on the grass by the path and fumbled with the lacings of her sandals; Iolaus knelt and drew them off for her, catching his breath in sympathy when he saw her bruised, bloody feet.
"Why didn't you say something before?" he asked her reprovingly.
"I just got these, and I haven't broken them in yet," she told him.
"I'd say you need to find a new sandalmaker," he commented.
She wiggled her toes. "Sandal? Oh, you mean those," she nodded, pointing to the discarded footwear. "Yes, those too." She stood up gingerly, wincing. Hercules once again lifted her into his arms; she looked at Iolaus over his shoulder and asked, "Is this some ritual of your people, or is he the only one who does it?"
Iolaus laughed. "Well, Hercules does sort of specialize in rescues. It's a side-effect of being the son of a god."
"You're a god?" she said excitedly. "Then you must know my great-grandfather Poseidon."
"Ah, I'm not a god, and yes, Poseidon and I are acquainted," Hercules told her. "Where did you say you were from again?"
"Oh, you've probably never heard of it," she said, and yawned hugely. She leaned her head against his chest and was asleep in seconds. Hercules looked at Iolaus.
"Okay, she's a little odd," Iolaus admitted. "Maybe it's been a long day."
Mena awoke as Hercules deposited her in a chair outside the busy inn where he and Iolaus had lodgings. She was intent on all that went on around her, from children playing raucous games to vendors in the marketplace hawking their wares to servants and housewives. Iolaus disappeared among the booths as Hercules called to the harried innkeeper for a bowl of warm water to bathe her feet.
"Thank you," she said. "My family's power to heal works only on others, not on ourselves."
"I'm just sorry I can't do for you what you did for Iolaus," he told her.
She touched his cheek. "You have a great power of healing within you. It's not like mine, but it's just as real."
Iolaus returned with a bundle under his arm. "These should be more comfortable," he told her, handing her a pair of slippers. She slid her hands into them, stroking the soft lining. "This is a gift for me?" she asked, looking up at him.
"It's no big deal," Iolaus assured her, embarrassed. "Why don't you try them on?"
She looked at the slippers on her hands, then surreptitiously glanced at the people around her. Her cheeks pinkened, and she quickly put the slippers on her feet. Iolaus switched them to the proper feet for her, shaking his head.
"What'll it be, folks?" the innkeeper asked them. She looked at Iolaus.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked her.
"You mean that man is going to bring us food?"
"Not at this rate, lady. Why don't you make up your mind and I'll come back?" he said, turning to go. Iolaus hastily called him back and he and Hercules ordered stew and ale.
"I'd like a fish," Mena finally announced.
"Catch of the day?" the innkeeper asked.
"If you can spare it," she said.
"How do you want it cooked?"
"Cooked?"
The innkeeper sighed. "Grilled, fried, broiled, steamed, baked..."
She looked at the men helplessly.
"Grill it, and bring her some vegetables," Hercules told the innkeeper.
"Don't they have taverns in your country?" Iolaus asked her.
"Where I come from, everybody gets their own meals. There's lots for everyone, and it's all over, so we don't need to go to a special place to feed. And what is 'cooked'?"
"You eat everything raw?" Iolaus asked in revolted surprise.
She looked at him sadly. "I thought I knew your language before I came here, but I don't understand much of what you say to me," she confessed. "We catch a fish or eel, thank it for feeding us, and eat it. Whatever's left when our appetite is satisfied feeds creatures smaller than ourselves. It's the way we've always done it. I thought it was the way everyone did it."
The innkeeper returned with two bowls, setting them down in front of the men. Mena leaned over Iolaus' shoulder, peering into the bowl curiously. "It's stew," he told her. "You know, meat, vegetables, gravy, like that."
"Gravy," she repeated, as if testing the sound. Iolaus extended the bowl toward her.
"Try it," he offered.
She reached into the steaming bowl and snatched her hand back with a squeak of dismay. "How do you eat something that bites you back?" she demanded, cradling her reddened fingers.
"What, you've never seen hot food before? And by the way," Iolaus added irritably, "On this side of the ocean we don't stick our fingers into other people's dinners."
"You told me to," she protested.
"I meant you should use a spoon!"
"I don't understand," she stammered, eyes filling with tears, and ran from the table.
"Nice work," Hercules said to Iolaus. "Aren't you going to go after her?"
Instantly contrite, Iolaus stood up, then sat down again. "You go, Herc. I might make it worse."
"Coward," Hercules said, and went to look for Mena. He found her behind the inn, wiping her wet cheeks. She held a damp palm out to him.
"There's something wrong with my eyes," she said worriedly.
"Are you telling me you've never cried before?"
"Well, of course I have," she said with scorn. "But if I leaked when I did it, I never knew about it! Are you telling me everyone here leaks when they cry?"
"You really aren't from around here, are you?" Hercules said as they returned to their table.
Iolaus told her his bark was worse than his bite. She didn't remember him barking, but said nothing, just to be safe. When her grilled fish and vegetables arrived, she inspected them cautiously. Upon being assured that it was suposed to look like that, and that she could eat her own food with her fingers if she chose until she got the hang of utensils, she entertained them with a running commentary on the exotic taste and texture of each item on her plate. Dessert was a particular revelation: she closed her eyes in ecstacy as the melange of honey, pastry and nuts dissolved on her tongue, announcing in awed tones that if Lord Hades were to take her now, she'd die content.
Following dinner, the tables were pushed aside to make room for a band of musicians. Mena was enchanted by the music and the dancers; when Iolaus pulled her to her feet, she demurred at first, then hesitantly followed his lead, until she was whirling happily in his arms, the light from the torches striking sparks in her white hair.
Finally sore feet forced her to stop. She resumed her seat beside Hercules as Iolaus led the innkeeper's succession of daughters on to the floor. Hercules saw her face darken as she watched Iolaus charm the young women; she murmured something inaudible to Hercules and left. Hercules thought of following her, then decided to give her some time on her own, gallantly leading the innkeeper's plump and blushing wife into the next set.
The musicians were taking a break some time later when Iolaus returned to Hercules' side. "Where's Mena?" he asked.
"She should have been back by now," Hercules said, looking around.
"Hercules! You let that babe in the woods wander off alone? How long has she been gone? Zeus knows what she could have gotten herself into by now!" Iolaus subsided at Hercules' quizzical look. "Well, since we rescued her and all, I kind of feel like we're responsible for her, at least until we figure out where she's from and how to get her back there."
"Is that all you feel about her?" Hercules asked him. "Because I'm getting the distinct impression that she's in love with you."
"In love!" Iolaus repeated. "How can she be in love with me? She's known me less than a day." He shook his head. "Herc, if you're right, you're going to have to do something about this. I mean, she's really beautiful, but I'm beginning to think she hasn't got all her oars in the water."
Behind them, Mena bowed her head, then turned and fled. "I want to go home, Grandfather!" she begged.
"Not yet, child," Poseidon answered gently. "You have six more days among the humans. Learn from them."
Mena showed the two men a composed, if pale, face when she returned to the dance. She refused, with thanks, offers to dance from some of the town's bachelors, and asked Hercules if there was somewhere special that she was to sleep. As the inn was full, Hercules told her to take his room; he'd bunk with Iolaus. She thanked him solemnly and went into the inn. She came back out, biting her lip, and confided to him that she didn't know where his room was. After he said goodnight and closed the door behind himself, she looked around the room, patted the bed and lay carefully down on it, and cried herself to sleep.
Except for meals, she avoided the men the next day, spending time with the innkeeper's five daughters, all of whom bombarded her with giggling questions about Hercules and Iolaus. She in turn found out how famous her two humans were; clearly, most of the town's female population envied her privileged status. She also used the opportunity to observe the women's behaviour, determined to commit no further naive act that would remind Iolaus and Hercules of how different she was.
Iolaus greeted her cheerfully as she joined them at breakfast on the third day. He was sure that Hercules had been mistaken about the nature of her feelings for him. That was a relief; he found her lack of guile refreshing, and enjoyed the often startling perspective she offered on the most commonplace aspects of life. Although her ignorance of such fundamentals as soap and privies confounded him, he had quickly recognised that she was extremely intelligent; she learned fast, and never made the same mistake twice. Already her accent was almost undetectable.
Hercules watched her as she guarded herself. From time to time she'd forget herself and begin to make one of her odd pronouncments, then bite her tongue. He was sorry she didn't trust them yet; he wondered when she would come clean about how she'd gotten here. He'd checked around, and had found no reports of any foreign ship in the area for weeks. If the vessel had broken up, some salvage would have been recovered by now. He had even briefly considered and immediately discarded the notion that she was another in the long line of assassins sent after him by Hera. Poseidon had remained steadfastly silent when Hercules had gone to him for information, admitting only that she was indeed his great-granddaughter, and asking Hercules to watch over her.
After breakfast, Iolaus decided with reluctance that he'd gone without shaving long enough. He obtained a mirror, soap and a bowl of water from the inn and carried them into the yard. Taking off his vest and soaping his chin, he brought the razor to his throat, nearly decapitating himself at the sound of a sudden shriek. Hand to the nick the sharp blade had made, he turned to see Mena running toward him, white with fear.
"Are you crazy?" he shouted at her. "I almost cut my throat!"
"Me crazy!" she panted, wrestling the razor from his slippery hand and throwing it across the yard. "Why in the name of all the gods would you want to cut your throat?"
He shook a soapy finger under her nose. "Do not tell me that you've never seen a man shave before," he warned her.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Okay," she said, and sped off to ask Hercules what 'shave' was. The answer, when it came, astonished her; the men of her kind didn't grow beards until they were very old. She began to despair of ever finding her place in this complicated land.
Hercules waited until Iolaus had retrieved his razor from the roof of the chicken coop and finished shaving before informing him that he'd invited Mena to join them that afternoon on their hunt. "Fine," Iolaus told him. "You just make sure she doesn't get hold of anything sharp."
"She wasn't the one that cut you," Hercules reminded him.
"I'd like to keep it that way," Iolaus answered.
The hunt itself was relatively uneventful; the men brought down a large buck while Mena examined everything that moved. She only became aware of their success when she saw Hercules hoisting the animal to his back.
"You must be very hungry," she said, stroking the stag's shining coat.
"Well, we'll give the buck to the innkeeper to pay for our stay, but we mostly do it for the challenge," Iolaus said over his shoulder. "Isn't hunting a sport in your country?"
When she didn't reply, he turned to look at her. She was looking at the two men as if they were strangers.
"It would be inconceivable to my people to take a life for pleasure," she told him coldly, and didn't speak again on the trip back to the inn.
She made no reference to the incident the next day, but Hercules and Iolaus were aware that her feelings toward them had undergone some evolution. Hercules felt this was no bad thing; he'd never been comfortable being the object of hero worship. Iolaus, on the other hand, had always thought a little hero worship was healthy, at least when it was directed at him, and regretted that she'd been so disturbed by the hunt.
Mena, meanwhile, was thinking that the stories she'd heard at her mother's side didn't have much to do with the reality she'd discovered. Iolaus was a charming and amusing companion and she was delighted to have discovered Hercules, who was certainly a distant relative of some sort, come to think of it; she just couldn't quite remember why she'd been so infatuated with the world of the air-breathers. The fantasy of bringing a handsome mortal back to life and having him fall hopelessly in love with one had seemed so romantic once upon a time. It was a good thing Iolaus was made of sterner stuff. She sighed for the lost innocence of the girl she'd been four long days ago.
As they waited for their lunch on the folllowing day, Hercules and Iolaus discussed resuming their travels. Hercules wanted Mena to accompany them, as they'd exhausted all leads to her ship in this area. Mena agreed without interest; it made no difference where she re-entered the sea. She had two days left.
They were interrupted by shouts and the sound of breaking pottery from within the inn. Hercules and Iolaus rose as the innkeeper stumbled out of the door, raised arms protecting his head from the shower of plates and bowls that followed him. They entered the inn as a burly man in warrior's leather bellowed after the innkeeper, "My dinars are as good when I'm drunk as they are when I'm sober! I'll decide when I've had enough to drink, not you!"
"Maybe you should go home and get some sleep," Hercules told the staggering warrior.
The drunk, who had several inches and many pounds even on Hercules, looked down at him through bleary eyes. "Maybe you should go mind your own business while your head is still attached to your shoulders," he growled.
He dropped heavily into a chair and banged his tankard on the table, howling for the innkeeper, as terrified customers made a quick exit. Hercules and Iolaus exchanged resigned looks and approached the drunken man. Iolaus reached for the man's arm, intending to help him to his feet and out the door; the man shook him off, sending him crashing into the bar. This was one too many blows to the head for Iolaus that week, who went out like a doused torch.
"That was a really bad idea," Hercules informed the warrior, and twisted the man's arm behind his back, lifting him up out of the chair. Muscles bunched in the man's massive arms and he pulled out of Hercules' grip, sending him crashing through the table to the floor amidst a hail of splintered wood. Hercules broke a chair across the man's shoulders; it only made him angrier. Hercules leaped to the top of the bar and launched himself at the warrior, bringing him down at the expense of another table and several chairs. Iolaus staggered to his feet and shook his head to clear it, a move he instantly regretted. As his eyes focused, he was dismayed to see Mena at the doorway, watching the fracas. She carefully picked her way across the broken furniture to the battling men and tapped the drunk on the shoulder; he spun, hamlike fist doubled, and gazed down at her in astonishment. She smiled at him, black-fringed eyes looking into his bloodshot ones.
"You know, my friends and I were just going to have lunch," she told him. "You must be hungry, too. I think it would be a good idea if you went home and had something to eat, and then tomorrow you can come and help the man who owns this place fix his furniture."
He stared at her, slowly lowering his fist. "Okay," he said at last. He looked around at the shambles he and Hercules had made of the inn, and then back at her. She continued to focus unblinkingly on his eyes, her gaze as deep and green as the sea.
He lumbered out the door, scratching his head.
"Don't tell me," Hercules said, looking at her curiously. "It's just something your family knows how to do."
The innkeeper cautiously re-entered his tavern, clutching his hair in despair at the extent of the damage. Hercules shrugged apologetically at him and the three went back to their table. The innkeeper's wife emerged with their plates, muttering under her breath as she deposited their meals none too gently in front of them.
Hercules caught Mena's hand as she reached for her knife. She studied the table for a minute, then looked up at him.
"I told you Poseidon is my great-grandfather," she said. "My family rules my people. Our kingdom is the most beautiful in the world, but it can be harsh, both for us and those we're committed to protect. That's why Poseidon granted our family these gifts, to keep our subjects safe from the predators that are everywhere. I've seen your people kill with spears and bows; these things are unknown to us. Those who are weak or wounded would never survive without our gift of healing, and our ability to calm aggression is our only weapon against our natural enemies. My world is hard, but I think not as hard as yours."
Hercules stared at her. "By Poseidon's beard," he said at last. "You're a mermaid."
"I knew I didn't imagine it," Iolaus exclaimed triumphantly.
"Your secret is safe with us," Hercules assured her, poking an elbow into Iolaus' midriff.
"Of course it is!" Iolaus said indignantly when he could catch his breath. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Did you get kicked out of the ocean for saving me, or something?"
She told them she would return to the sea soon, and refused to answer any more questions about why she'd left it.
At the next table, a ferret-like little man threw down some coins and left the yard. He walked rapidly for several blocks, finally reaching a run-down section of the town, and knocked surreptitiously at the door. The door opened a crack and an eye regarded him fixedly for several seconds; at last the door swung open and he scuttled inside, checking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't been followed.
He paced in a filthy hallway for what seemed a very long time before being admitted into the presence of the man he'd come to see: Lycos, small-time hood, petty thief and his older brother. He started talking excitedly as soon as he entered the room; his brother gestured him to silence, waiting for the servant to close the door.
"What do you want this time, Iatros?" Lycos demanded.
"This is it, brother! The big score we've been waiting for all these years has dropped right into our laps. We've finally got something for King Avidius' collection that no-one else in the world has got! We can name our price, Lycos! We can retire after this one!"
"What are you ranting about, you half-wit?" his brother snarled.
Iatros leaned forward, his small eyes shining with avarice. "A mermaid," he whispered.
Lycos backhanded him across the room.
Iatros struggled to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood from his chin. "It's true!" he said excitedly. "I sat beside her at the inn! Lycos, she was with Hercules."
Lycos halted, fist raised. "Hercules said she was a mermaid?"
Iatros flinched as Lycos placed a friendly arm around his shoulders. "Tell me everything, little brother," he urged, pressing Iatros into a seat and pouring wine for him.
Mena awoke late that night to the sound of muffled voices in her room. A rough blanket was pulled over her head and she was lowered, struggling, from her window and thrown over the back of a horse. She continued to fight her attackers as the horse was kicked into a gallop; her foot connected with a shin, she heard a curse, and her head exploded into stars as Lycos hit her with the hilt of his dagger.
When she came to, the horse had slowed to a walk. Her head ached so she could hardly think. There was one more gift from Poseidon that she hadn't told Hercules about, one shared by all her people: the ability to communicate with each other when they were separated. It had brought her own kind to her rescue more than once in the past. She hoped it would work on one irascible human now.
She concentrated, willing the pain in her head to subside.
Iolaus bolted upright, sweating.
With a glance at Hercules, asleep in the next bed, he drew on his trousers and went down the hall to Mena's room. When she didn't answer to his knock, he opened the door; one look at the overturned table and open window told him all he needed to know. He raced back to his room, shouting for Hercules and the innkeeper.
The two men set out on horses from the inn's stable. Several times Iolaus reined in his mount and closed his eyes, then opened them and urged his horse in another direction. After several silent hours of hard riding he signalled to Hercules to stop and slid from the horse's back.
"Talk to me, Iolaus," Hercules commanded at last.
"She's in my head, Herc. Maybe we made some hind of connection when she saved me; I don't know how else to explain it. It's not like I can hear her talking, I just -- know things. She's in pain, and she doesn't know where she is or who's got her, only that they've stopped for now. We can afford to give the horses a few minutes' rest."
"Hercules," he added, looking at his friend, "they know about her somehow. They're going to sell her."
"Avidius," Hercules said immediately. "Come on, Iolaus. I think I can get us there ahead of them."
Dawn found them concealed behind an outcropping of rocks at the only close passable point on the border of Avidius the Collector's kingdom. They watched as a dozen men rode toward them, one leading Mena's horse. She was blindfolded, her hands tied behind her, and she slumped on the horse's back. They saw her straighten and turn her head toward their position for an instant, then resume her former posture.
Iolaus surged forward, but Hercules restrained him. "Gently, Iolaus," he cautioned. "We have the advantage now. They're heavily armed; if we charge at them, we'll be target practice. They'll have to dismount when they get to the rocks. Let them come to us."
The men pulled Mena from the horse, and Iolaus winced as pain flooded through the connection before she could block it. She fell twice before they finally stopped, re-tied her hands in front of her and removed the blindfold, carefully avoiding her eyes.
Hercules had seen Iolaus brace himself. "What's happening?" he asked.
"She shut it down. She didn't want to distract me."
Iolaus kept in front of them; Hercules waited until the last two men had passed them and knocked their heads together, leaving them where they dropped. Iolaus stepped out from behind a rock, drawing the men's attention to him; Hercules picked up a boulder and dropped it casually on the heads of two more men as Iolaus battled his way toward Mena. He drew his sword and turned to face the four men who ran at him, pushing Mena behind him. One of them made the mistake of catching Mena's eye; he wandered away to pick flowers. Hercules gained Iolaus' side, leaving three unconscious men in his wake. Three men now faced them; one charged Iolaus, who sidestepped him with ease, and the man plunged over the rocks to the ground below. It was a matter of seconds for Hercules to render the last two harmless as Iolaus turned to cut Mena's bonds.
From behind a rock, Lycos watched his big score dissolve in front of his eyes. Berserk with rage, he launched his dagger at the man who stood between him and his dreams of wealth.
Hercules swung at the sound, but it was too late; Iolaus fell, Lycos' dagger buried to the hilt in his back.
As Hercules dropped to the ground by Iolaus, Mena snatched up his sword and flew at Lycos. She reached him as he turned to run and plunged Iolaus' blade into his heart.
Hercules bent over Iolaus, frantically feeling for a pulse, and offering a silent prayer of thanks when he felt Iolaus' heart beating faintly. He looked up at Mena as she knelt at Iolaus' side.
She put her hands on either side of the dagger. "Pull it out," she said.
Hercules held his breath and removed the dagger, terrified at the amount of blood that followed it. Mena put both hands over the wound and bowed her head. Blood trickled from her nose as she began to shake. As the blood fell faster, Hercules put a hand on her shoulder; she was burning up, her eyes rolled back in her head. Thinking he would lose both of them, Hercules tried to remove her hands from Iolaus' back, but her arms were rigid, immovable. Finally he just paced, helpless, as the sun crawled across the sky overhead.
He turned as Mena took a long, shuddering breath and collapsed. As he moved her gently Iolaus stirred, and Hercules saw a faint scar where the dagger had entered his back. Mena herself was barely breathing as he lifted them across his shoulders and made for the bottom of the cliff, horses trailing behind.
It was night before the two regained full consciousness. Hercules had built a fire and heated some of their provisions, and Mena and Iolaus sat watching him tidy up. Both were fully recovered, although exhausted from their ordeal. Hercules had asked Iolaus, as a special favour to him, to try to keep from getting killed any more, at least for a while. Iolaus thought it sounded like a good idea, but felt he should point out that he hadn't actually died this time. Mena listened as the two men joked, and was sorry that her time with them was ending so soon. She sighed. She would have liked to have found out what it was like to kiss a human. Even one who didn't think all her oars were in the water, whatever that meant.
"Well, you have to admit you're not exactly the girl next door," said a warm voice by her ear, and when she turned to ask him next door to what, she discovered what it was like to be kissed by a human. She thought that, for people without the advantage of gills, humans -- at least this particular human -- had mastered the art very well.
Late the next afternoon they returned to the beach where they'd first met. She hugged Hercules, who promised to keep in touch through Poseidon. She and Iolaus looked at each other. "Maybe you could drop me a line from time to time," Iolaus said finally, tapping his head.
"I am the girl next door, if you live next door to the ocean," she said to him, and dropping her dress to the sand, dove into the surf. As they watched, several heads appeared above the waves, surrounding her. Together they plunged beneath the surface, tails sending rainbow sprays into the air.
Hercules turned to his friend. "Don't say it, Hercules," Iolaus warned.
""Say what?"
"Whatever you were going to say about the one that got away, or some other equally horrible pun," Iolaus told him. "And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
They left the beach, still arguing about Hercules' fondness for punning, Iolaus hooting in derision when Hercules tried to convince him that they were actually metaphors. Behind them, the setting sun glowed brilliant orange across the empty surf.
The End
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