"I can hardly wait to get home," the lithe blonde hunter exclaimed as he energetically sauntered down the road.
"Surely you are not in a hurry to eat Ania's cooking?" the tall man innocently asked his traveling companion. "Though," he added after a minute of contemplation, "next to your cooking hers probably wouldn't seem quite so bad."
"Hey! That's not fair. Well, maybe it is. But you know Herc, there is more to life then food. And Ania definitely has other, ah ... well shall we say, talents," he smirked.
"Iolaus," Hercules replied with mock indignation. "I'm surprised. You? Putting something ahead of food?"
Iolaus grinned widely.
"Well if you expect Ania to favor you with some of her other talents my friend, then I suggest you take a bath before showing up on her doorstep. Either that, or bring her a very large and extremely fragrant bouquet of flowers."
Iolaus took a discreet sniff at himself and wrinkled his nose. They had been on the road a long time. Hercules was right, he was a bit pungent. Ah, but he was on his way home to his lovely wife and child and nothing, but nothing could spoil his good mood.
"So a bath it is. There is that stream just outside of town. Cold as winter ice, but what the hey; Ania will be willing to warm me back up when I arrive home I dare say."
Hercules chuckled, clapping his companion on the back. "Come on brave hunter. If we hurry, you can get your bath and still make it home in time for dinner."
Iolaus shook his golden curls in the late afternoon sun. Sparkling droplets of water flew through raining down on Hercules.
"Hey, I already had my bath."
Iolaus stopped shaking his head and started running his fingers through his unruly locks, all the while maintaining the silly grin he'd been sporting since the two of them had gotten within striking distant of their home town.
Hercules shook his head as Iolaus primped and preened. In some ways, he was envious of his best friend. Iolaus had a wonderful wife and son to go home to, something Hercules did not. Oh, it would be comforting to see his mother again, but it wasn't the same.
Anyone looking at Iolaus and Ania could see how much the two of them were in love. The arrival of their son, Telaus, had only added to the couples' joy. Iolaus worshipped his family and they him.
A slight frown creased the demi-god's handsome brow as he remembered back to their departure, four months ago. Ania had not been happy about Iolaus going off to fight in the war at Pythalous. She had pleaded with her husband not to go. After all, she had reasoned, he had a family to take care of now. He needed to think about their needs instead of traipsing about the country fighting in other people's battles.
In the end, two things had caused Ania to change her mind. The first had been when she learned about the horrible atrocities that were occurring in Pythalous; no one should have to live like that she had thought.
The second reason was more elusive at first, but probably more important in the end. After watching her husband struggle between his duty to his family and his duty to do what was right, Ania slowly came to realize that helping others in need was as ingrained to her husband as breathing. On the surface he might not admit it, but deep down she knew it was essential to his very being. It was what made him Iolaus; who he was. To try to change him would be wrong. So with a brave smile on her face and much trepidation in her heart, she had bid her warrior-husband ado, admonishing him to do what he must, but return quickly and safely to her. She had included Hercules in her appeal with a look that begged him to guard and bring her husband home safely.
Iolaus loved his wife even more, if possible, after she gave him her blessing. Iolaus understood his wife's fears and her courage to let him go. He had almost changed his mind and stayed home, but in the end he had gone. As he kissed her goodbye, he had vowed in his heart, as he had many times in the past, that this would be his last adventure.
The trip to Pythalous had been uneventful. They walked as far as they could each day and camped at night. Hercules knew Iolaus was still wrestling with his conscience, trying to second-guess if he had made the right decision. Sometimes at night Iolaus would wonder off alone. When he would eventually return to the camp, Hercules could see the remnants of his anguish etched on his weathered countenance. Hercules vowed to the Gods to protect his friend at all costs and return him safely to his wife and child.
And he had.
The situation in Pythalous was worse then they had been led to believe. They had immediately joined in the struggle to bring freedom back to these oppressed people, fighting long and hard. They had guarded each other's back, losing track of the number of times they had "saved" each other from certain death. In the end, good had triumphed over evil.
Iolaus had also come to realize his decision to fight in this battle was the right one. Yes, he had a duty to protect his wife and child, but he also had a duty to protect other people's wives and children. What had happened in Pythalous, could spread, and in a way, stopping it here was protecting his family. None the less, when it was over, Iolaus could not wait to get back on the road to home. Home and his family.
Iolaus was babbling away as they approached the crossroads outside their village. He nearly ran into the back of Hercules when the large man abruptly stopped. Iolaus peered around his companion to see what had halted his forward motion.
The smile that had been resident on Iolaus face quickly faded and a cold, sick feeling gnawed the pit of his stomache.
"The plague," he whispered. He rubbed his eyes as if that would make the symbol tacked to the sign post disappear. But it did not. The ugly symbol remained.
He glanced up at his companion seeing his own fear mirrored in Hercules' eyes.
The two warriors set off towards their village at a dizzying pace. When they reached the location that would spilt their travels, the right to Iolaus' home, the left to Hercules', they halted.
"I..."
"I know," Hercules replied.
Neither man said another word, but clasped arms in the familiar and comforting warrior handshake. Then, with a speed that defied the wind, they separated and hurried up the tracks leading to their respective homes, each man praying for himself and the other ones family.
The house was deathly quiet as Hercules approached it. Dear Zeus, he prayed. Not my mother. I swear to you if she is dead
Hercules never had to finish his threat. He spotted movement in the garden. Alcemne.
"Mother," he cried rushing up to hug her. The demi-god gathered her in his muscular arms, sweeping her from the ground. "I was so afraid when Iolaus and I spotted the plague marker at the crossroads... I was afraid something had happened to you." He hugged her again furiously before setting her back on her feet.
Alcemne returned her son's enthusiastic, warm embrace though her glance swept around, searching.
"Mother, is something wrong?" Hercules asked noticing her distraction.
"My son, I am happy you have returned safely. And Iolaus, did he too return?" she asked her eyes once again sweeping the nearby vicinity.
"Yes, of course Mother. He is on the way home to..." Hercules voice trailed off as tears welled in Alcemne eyes.
"No Mother. Please no. Not Ania."
She could only shake her head as the tears started to course down her face.
"And Telaus?"
"Both," she whispered. "Taken by the awful plague. Oh Hercules it was horrible. It swept through the village killing men, women and children indiscriminately. There was no rhyme or reason to who died and who survived. Sometimes whole families were wiped out, sometimes just one member and some spared altogether."
She sank down on a nearby rock. Hercules knelt at her feet as she continued her tale; knelt at her feet as he did when she told him tales as a child. Only this tale did not have a happy ending.
"When Ania was stricken by the plague she got word to me and begged me to take Telaus away from her in hopes he would not succumb. But alas, it was not to be. Perhaps the only cruel fate Ania was spared was not having to see Telaus die. She passed first, he a few days later. He died in my arms. Little Telaus. It was if one of my own grandchildren had died," she sobbed burying her face in her son's broad chest. After a few minutes she gathered her composure and continued her tale of woe.
"Some men from the village came out and helped me burn the bodies. When it was done," she said swallowing painfully, "I gathered the ashes and buried them by the big oak tree in the yard. I had markers made and placed in the ground, so Iolaus would know, where, they were," she concluded.
"Iolaus," Hercules said in a panic. "Mother, I must go to him. Will you be all right?"
Alcemne shook her head yes. "Go my son. He will need you now more than ever."
Hercules kissed the top of his mother's head and then ran out of the yard towards his best friend's house.
Fear made Iolaus run swiftly. As he pounded down the dirt road he tried to keep his thoughts positive. He would round the corner and see his wife in the window and his son playing in the lush green grass. Yes, that is how it would be he kept telling himself over and over.
When the house came in view, his world shattered. He slowly stopped and stared. A large, ugly burn mark scorched the earth in front of his house; the remains of a funeral piling.
"No," he whimpered as he skirted the area heading for the front door.
On the door jam was a sign, the sign that marked the house of the plague.
"No," he said again as he ripped the sign down and flung it to the earth. He went to enter the house; the house that he had built with his own two hands and stopped. He was frightened. The great warrior who had fought countless battles and monsters at Hercules' side was frightened to enter his own home. Frightened of what he might find; to have his worse nightmare confirmed.
Steeling his nerves, he crossed the door jam. Everything was in its place. The beds were made. The toys put away. The kitchen pots and pans all in their nooks and crannies. Everything was as it should be, except his wife and child was missing.
With a sob he quickly left the house and headed around the back. The setting sun stained the sky blood red as his eyes fell upon the two markers and the freshly turned earth.
He slowly lumbered towards them, his gait that of an old man, beaten and worn by time. He knew what he would find inscribed on those wooden markers, though he prayed with all his heart and soul he would be wrong.
When he got close enough, he peered close to read them. He ran his trembling hand over their rough hewed surface, confirming with his fingers what he his tear strewn eyes had shown him.
Ania
Telaus.
He sunk to his knees in the dirt as darkness claimed the land.
"NO," he screamed over and over until his throat was raw and his voice lost to the wind.
A quick cursory inspection of the house showed it was empty. Hercules had a feeling he knew where he would find Iolaus. Heading around the house, Hercules spotted his old friend in the pale glow of the waxing moonlight. He walked slowly over to where Iolaus knelt, unmoving in the dirt. He laid one his strong hand on his friends shoulder, lending him strength in his grief.
They two remained in silence. After a period Hercules simply said "Iolaus. I'm sorry."
Iolaus showed no signs of moving so Hercules left him and sat under a nearby tree to keep a silent watch on his friend. The night passed in agonizing slowness.
As the sun's golden rays warmed the mother earth, Iolaus finally rose from his silent supplication. He slowly made his way back into the house with Hercules trailing behind him. Iolaus moved about the house with exaggerated care running his fingers over the various pieces of furniture that he had made for her. Gently touching the toys he had made for him. Memorizing.
Hercules watched his friend's ritual; neither man ashamed that tears streamed down their grief worn faces. Finally, after completely embracing the house, Iolaus walked over and picked up his rucksack from the floor where he had abandoned it. He laid it on the table, numbly surveying its contents. He added a few more things to it. When he was satisfied, he started to close it up and then stopped. He glanced around the house one more time searching. He walked over to a chest by the bed. The hinges moaned as he pried open the lid. Iolaus rummaged through the contents, finally removing a worn and patched vest. Sliding out of his shirt and dropping it to the floor, he shrugged the vest on. He ran his callused hands over its surface, whispering "Ania".
Next, he moved across the room to where his son's possessions resided. He picked up, cradled and then gently replaced most of his son's toys; none seemed to be what he sought. His eyes swept the area again coming to rest on his son's favorite pull toy; a crude carving of a bull Iolaus had loving carved out of a pine borough. He fingered the bull as fresh tears fell from his red-rimmed eyes. Telaus had loved this toy, more so because his father had made it especially for him. Iolaus carefully untied the leather cord from the bull's neck; the cord his son's chubby little hands had spent many-a-hours grasping to pull the toy about the house. After removing the cord, he carefully replaced the bull in its rightful place.
With a vicious motion he grasped the amulet around his neck and ripped it off, not caring as it cut into his neck before the strap broke. He tossed the old leather strap to the ground replacing it with the pull string from his son's toy. Gently knotting it, he settled the cord and amulet back over his head onto his bleeding neck. "Telaus" he whispered.
With a newfound purpose, Iolaus strode to the table gathering the rucksack and his sword. He pushed past Hercules, not even glancing at his tall friend as he left the house. Moving with a swiftness that belayed his grief, Iolaus headed off across the meadow.
"Iolaus, wait," Hercules said running after his friend. When Iolaus made no apparent effort to stop, Hercules laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. Iolaus halted and turned. He gazed mutely at Hercules, his blue eyes glazed, mirroring the grief in his soul.
"Where are you going?"
Iolaus didn't answer but continued to gaze unseeingly at Hercules' face.
"Your right," Iolaus croaked, his voice raw and hoarse with disuse. "It is not complete not yet." He dropped his sword and bundle on the ground at Hercules feet and proceeded back towards the house.
"Iolaus?"
Iolaus disappeared into the house, emerging a few seconds later with a torch and flint. He stuck the flint a mighty blow sending sparks flying, some which ignited the torch. Dropping the flint to the ground, he held the torch aloft and walked back into the house.
"Iolaus!" Hercules yelled as he raced into the house after him. "What are you doing?"
Iolaus ignored Hercules cries as he moved methodically about the house setting it on fire. The flames set by Iolaus' hand engulfed the table, the bed, the wall hangings, everything.
The air has getting hotter and the flames intense as the wood and thatch dwelling quickly became a blazing inferno.
"We have to get out of here Iolaus," Hercules shouted moving towards him, prepared to drag him out if necessary. Iolaus stopped, dropped the torch and slowly gazed at the destruction he had wrought.
Afraid Iolaus was going to stand there until he too was part of the inferno, Hercules grabbed his friend by the arm preparing to drag him out. The house was rapidly filling with thick, dark, choking smoke. The combined effects confused Hercules at first and he realized that he was dragging them away from the door not to it. Correcting his error he started back towards the door with Iolaus in tow.
An ominous crack was all the warning he had as a blazing timber fell from the roof. Hercules twisted, throwing Iolaus out of the way as the timber plunged downwards. The timber struck Hercules on the back driving him to his knees. He heaved the beam to one the side and then glanced around for Iolaus. Through the thickening haze he spotted a glint of golden hair. In his efforts to save Iolaus from the timber, he had unknowingly flung him against the fireplace hearth. Iolaus lay prone on the floor, still and silent.
With a groan of pure anguish, Hercules picked up his fallen comrade and carried him out of the burning house. Moving a safe distant away, he carefully laid Iolaus' unconscious body on the soft grass. He was relieved to find his friend was still breathing. A deep, nasty cut was oozing blood down the right side of his face giving him the look of a jester. But other than some minor burns, the fallen warrior seemed to be intact, all except his broken heart.
As Hercules went to gather Iolaus up in his arms and carry him to his mother's house to be tended, the warrior awoke.
"No, please," he pleaded. "I need to see the end."
Iolaus struggled to sit and Hercules gently supported him.
"Iolaus, you're hurt. We need to-" but he stopped. The look on Iolaus face said it all. He wasn't ready to go. The two men sat and watched as the house burned to the ground. Fortunately, the surrounding grassland did not ignite. After a few hours, the house was reduced to nothing but a pile of smoldering embers and ashes.
Iolaus slowly climbed to his feet, swaying. Hercules reached out a hand to steady his friend.
"It's done." Turning his haunted eyes towards Hercules, Iolaus said flatly, "You should have left me inside to die too."
"I couldn't."
Iolaus wavered. "You're right, this is more fitting ...me to remain behind... to suffer. Not...take the coward's way...out," he muttered as he collapsed in a heap on the ground.
With tears in his eyes once again, Hercules tenderly picked up his best friend and bore him to his mother's house.
"You have never been a coward my friend," he whispered softly as he walked across the meadow.
One night he woke up and saw he was gone; his sword and rucksack missing. Hercules quietly slipped out of the house and made his way across the fields to Iolaus' homestead. He wondered if he was too late as he hurried even faster.
It was almost like deja vu. In the waxing moonlight Hercules could make out the lone figure of a man, kneeling by the grave markers. Hercules stopped, not wanting to intrude.
"It's all right. I know you're there," Iolaus voice wafted over to him. Iolaus slowly got to his feet and walked to where Hercules stood. He looked up at his tall friend. "Guess I shouldn't expect a giant like you to be very quiet in the woods."
Hercules smiled faintly. It was the first joke Iolaus had made in two weeks since they had returned home.
"You're off?"
Iolaus nodded his head. Reaching a hand up he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's time."
"You know you're welcome to stay with us."
Iolaus gave him a half smile. "I know. But, I can't."
Hercules nodded. "Where will you go?"
Iolaus picked up his broad sword and waved it slightly. "North, south, east, I don't know. Away." He cleared his throat. "Tell Alcemne goodbye for me. And thanks." He reached up and gently touched the healing cut on his head. "She did a good job at keeping my ugly mug intact," he finished ---though he would always carry the scar on his forehead.
"She's going to miss you as will I. Will you come back someday?"
Iolaus took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He didn't answer right away. Instead he glanced around him. "No. Maybe. I don't know."
"You will always have family here, my brother." Iolaus reached out and took the proffered arm. The two men clasped wrist and then Hercules drew the smaller man into a full body embrace. Tears fell on the Hercules' chest, but he ignored them and quickly looked away when his blonde friend dashed a hand across his eyes to clear them. Hercules eyes weren't so dry themselves.
They broke apart and Iolaus gazed up at his best friend in the world. "Thank you, for everything, my brother." He swiftly turned his back on his friend and started walking.
Hercules watched his friend move swiftly across the meadow into the woods. "Be safe. And return home when you are ready my friend. I will be here for you, always." Hercules whispered to the wind.
Epilogue
He had learned a lot: physically and mentally and had had come to accept their deaths as best as he could. But it was time. Time he knew to go, home. He rolled the word on his tongue, testing it out. No, home was not the right word. He would never have another home. But, he did have a good friend a brother waiting for him to return.
Tales of Hercules' feats had reached him, even in the remotest corners of the world. And Iolaus knew, somehow, his destiny was tied to the man who had called him brother and it was time to seek him out, again.
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