"More stew?"
Hercules looked up, cool, blue eyes smiling ruefully.
"Yeah, please. I don't know what it is; I just can't seem to get enough."
The plump innkeeper grinned down at him, and ladled out another huge bowl of the savory stuff.
"Ah, well, don't feel embarrassed about it, a big fellow such as yourself needs plenty of fuel. It's only your fourth bowl."
Herc shook his head, but, began attacking the stew as soon as the ladle was safely out of the way.
Another motherly smile from the innkeeper.
"Enjoy it. I'll be back in a while with some more ale."
She walked away, patting her favorite customers on their shoulders as she passed them.
Hercules kept his head down, concentrating on his food until the last morsel had been scraped out of the bottom of the bowl. He heard an amused laugh, and looked up into the beaming countenance of the innkeeper. Settling herself across from him, she served him another ale and asked where he was bound.
"I'm on my way to meet a friend of mine at the spring gathering in Trias." Smiling rather absently, he drained his ale, nodding at the innkeeper when she gestured with the pitcher. He sighed and sipped from the refilled mug.
"What's troubling you, young man? Is something wrong with your friend?" The innkeeper's rosy face radiated concern.
"No. I don't know. I mean, no, of course not. I haven't seen him for over a month; I guess I'm just a little anxious to get on the road."
"Of course you are. Eager to see your friend again." Another smile and some more ale. "How long have you known each other?"
"We've been best friends since we were kids," Hercules laughed reminiscently, "You should have seen him; he was all eyes and hair, such a little guy. But, fearless. It didn't take very long for the other boys to stop picking on him; he'd fight one or ten, it didn't seem to matter to him." A grin lit his face, "Hmmm. Come to think of it, he hasn't changed much."
The innkeeper gave a warm, gurgling laugh, and Hercules joined her.
"He's just bigger, now, eh?"
"Actually ... well, yeah, I guess he's a little bit bigger."
It was much later by the time Hercules climbed into bed, stomach full. Strange, he'd talked to the innkeeper for so long; he must be lonelier than he'd thought. And, the food and ale had been so good. Well, a couple of days with Iolaus talking his ear off and he'd forget what it was like to hear silence. He nestled down into the pillow and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning he was on the road early, the innkeeper waving him a cheerful farewell from the door. His eyes were heavy from a night of disturbing dreams. He couldn't remember any of them, but, it seemed that he hadn't had a dream-free moment all night, and he felt more exhausted than he had been when he'd gone to bed, barely able to drag one foot after the other.
"Well, what do you expect after four bowls of stew and two pitchers of ale? You're lucky that you slept at all!" He shook his head ruefully, "I am lonely; I'm reduced to talking to myself!"
His heart grew lighter as he rounded a curve and saw Trias in the distance. He quickened his pace, and before long he was threading his way through the crowds, scanning for Iolaus. He was soon rewarded; he saw a mob of women up ahead, and turned his steps in their direction. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of golden hair at the center of the confusion. Pushing his way through the throng, he found a kissing booth, being bravely manned by Iolaus. Hercules walked quietly up behind his friend and tapped his shoulder.
"Say there, cutie, how much for a kiss?"
Iolaus whirled, frowning, then laughed when he recognized Hercules.
"Herc! You're here! Hey, can you help me out? I was just watching the booth for a few minutes while Delcis went to get something to eat, and, all of a sudden I'm swamped!"
"Well, my friend, you got yourself into this ..." Hercules voice drifted off as he counted the women waiting and watched Iolaus surrounding the next woman with his arms. No wonder he had attracted a crowd; it was quite obvious that he was taking his duties very seriously. At that thorough, languid rate, they'd be lucky to get away from the booth by nightfall. Hercules sighed heavily and turned a rueful smile on the next woman in line; a hero's work was never done.
Even with both of them toiling earnestly, it was over an hour before they extricated themselves from the last kissees and headed off through the crowds. Iolaus was laughing, filling Hercules in on the adventures he'd encountered on his way to the festival.
"And after all that, when I finally got the bale of hay out from under the ... Herc? Are you all right?"
Hercules focused on his friend with difficulty. The headache he'd been fighting all day had suddenly risen to a screaming pitch, and he felt as though he were looking at Iolaus' concerned face through a tunnel. He stumbled as Iolaus pulled him into a tavern and settled him on a bench.
"Herc? Can you tell me what's wrong?"
"It's just my head; it aches. And, my eyes aren't working properly..."
"Have you eaten?"
Hercules thought back.
"Not since last night."
Iolaus folded his arms and frowned at Hercules in exasperation.
"Stay right here. I'm getting some food for you." He stalked off, muttering "Not since last night. What does he think, he can run on air?"
Hercules rested his head on the table, his breathing shallow with pain. It seemed like an eternity before Iolaus was back, with a bowl of soup and hot bread. He helped Hercules sit up, and watched him so intently as he ate that Hercules finally stopped and stared back at him.
"Iolaus. Listen, really, I'm feeling better now. I just ... forgot to eat, that's all. I had a huge dinner last night, so, I didn't feel hungry this morning. Then, I was on the road, in a hurry, then I was kissing every woman in town. Eating slipped my mind, that's all."
Iolaus' smile lit up the room.
"Yeah, you are better. OK, finish your soup; I'll get us some ale."
Two mornings later, Iolaus was up at dawn, dressing hurriedly and peeking in on Hercules on his way down the hall. His friend was in bed, but tossing restlessly, sweat beaded on his face. He groaned wretchedly, and Iolaus had to force himself to close the door quietly and continue on out of the inn. If he woke Hercules now, he might have trouble getting him to sit still for the treatment Iolaus had in mind. Better to have everything prepared in advance, before shaking Hercules out of his nightmares.
Iolaus' normally sunny, open countenance was drawn with worry as he made his way distractedly down the street. Although Hercules' headache had improved after his soup that first day, it had never completely gone. Of course, Iolaus had to infer that for himself, as Hercules kept his own counsel about his ailment. Hercules' sallow color, increasingly sunken eyes, and poor appetite had told their tale clearly enough to his friend's hyper-sensitive eyes, however. He'd practically had to sit on Hercules to make him finally go to bed in the wee hours of the night before. Suspicious, Iolaus had waited for an hour or so, then looked in on his friend. Sure enough, Hercules had been straining in the grip of a nightmare. Iolaus had woken him, and watched as he fell back into a fitful sleep; but, before long, he could see from his friend's restless tossing that the dreams had returned.
Iolaus roused himself from his musings as he reached the vendor he sought.
"What can I do for you, this fine morning?"
Iolaus smiled woodenly in automatic response.
"I need some valerian root and chamomile."
"No problem," the vendor rummaged around for a while in his bags, producing the necessary items, "how much of each?"
"Uh, about two handfuls of the chamomile, and two fingers of the valerian."
"Oh, my. Got a powerful headache, do you?"
"Yeah. Really powerful. You have no idea how powerful."
The transaction made, Iolaus headed back for the inn. He spoke to the maid softly for a moment, then headed upstairs. When he reached Hercules' room, he wanted to kick himself for not waking his friend earlier. He was twisted in the blankets, moaning piteously and shivering. Iolaus perched cautiously on the side of the bed, and reached out to shake Hercules.
The demigod lashed out; Iolaus barely managed to launch himself backward in time to avoid a blackened eye. He danced around the bed, staying out of Hercules' reach until his friend's eyes cleared and he stopped swinging.
"Iolaus. What ...?" Hercules winced and touched a shaking hand to his temple.
"You were having another nightmare. Can you get up? I've got a bath waiting for you. Here, that's right. OK, here's your pants."
Iolaus was even more concerned than before, when he saw how biddable Hercules was. He rose and climbed into the proffered pants without comment, his face ashen, then waited patiently while Iolaus threaded him into his faded, yellow tunic and crammed his unlaced boots onto his feet. He even allowed Iolaus to support the majority of his weight on the way to the little bathing room, his arm draped over the smaller man's shoulders and his hand clutching at Iolaus' vest like a lifeline. Iolaus found it difficult to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat, wishing he could somehow transfer all of his own glowing health into his suffering friend.
The maid was waiting by the steaming tub, and accepted her reward of a blinding smile from the sweet, blonde man with an audible sigh of pleasure. Iolaus, unmindful for the moment of the niceties, proceeded to strip Hercules with alacrity, testing the water with one hand while he supported his friend with the other arm. Assured of the toasty, but not too hot, temperature of the bath, he half-lifted Hercules into the tub, watching while he settled himself, head lolling against the rim, legs folded awkwardly.
Iolaus turned to the blushing maid.
"Please, I've got to brew some tea for him; can you stay with him for a few minutes? Just, stay out of his reach, and, yell if anything happens."
She looked up into the pleading, blue eyes, and melted. Blushing even more furiously, she brushed the back of his hand and agreed to stay.
"Bless your heart!" He beamed at her and saluted her cheek with a quick kiss, before dashing from the room.
Never had water boiled so slowly. It seemed like an eternity to Iolaus before he returned to the bath, clutching a pot of strong-smelling tea and a thick mug. Hercules still lay as before, his breathing shallow, eyes closed.
"Herc, sit up a bit. Here," Iolaus offered a mug of pungent tea to Hercules, "try this. I've put plenty of honey in, but, it will still be a little bitter."
"What is it?" Hercules mumbled, as he sipped at the brew.
"Chamomile for your headache, and valerian to help you sleep."
"Don't want to sleep. Dreams."
"Well, hopefully, the valerian will make your sleep deep enough to keep the dreams away. Trust me."
Hercules looked skeptically up into that familiar, smiling face and drank deeply, wincing a bit at the heat. Once he'd finished the mug, Iolaus refilled it and coaxed him into drinking it down. Then, he took the empty mug from Hercules and made a pillow of his own vest, placing it behind Hercules' heavy head, pushing the sweat-soaked brown hair back and gently placing a cool, wet cloth on his forehead. He settled down on the bench by the tub to watch as his friend slipped into an easy rest. All seemed well, until Hercules' body convulsed, and his eyes flew open.
Iolaus drew back a bit, involuntarily, at the anger flaring in those icy blue orbs.
"Herc?" The blonde hunter's voice was tentative, as he studied the enraged visage before him.
Suddenly, Hercules leapt from the bath, water sheeting off of his body as he grabbed Iolaus' shoulder and planted his right fist in the smaller man's abdomen. As Iolaus doubled over, Hercules slammed his left forearm onto the muscles cording the base of his neck, knocking him to his knees. When Hercules moved forward to continue his attack, Iolaus recovered his breath and rolled back to his feet, bouncing backward with his arms outstretched.
"Herc! Stop! Herc, wait! Listen to me; you're sick, let me help you! Herc! You've got to wake up!"
Hercules lashed out with a quick blow to his mouth in answer, splitting his lower lip. His foot caught Iolaus at the hinge of his jaw and sent him to the floor once again. Iolaus was quicker to recover this time, his senses all on alert as he realized that Hercules was in deadly earnest. He circled carefully, trying to reach the door.
"Quick, run!" he shouted to the dumbstruck maid.
Hercules jumped forward as Iolaus made his move to follow the escaping maid, doubling his fists and bringing them across Iolaus' cheekbone, crushing flesh against bone and sending him reeling, dazed. Another blow broke his collarbone with a sickening snap, and Iolaus staggered, a red haze of agony obscuring his vision. His right arm hung, useless, by his side; he readied his left, but still didn't want to take the chance of hurting his friend.
The hesitation cost him dearly; Hercules doubled his fists once again, and slammed Iolaus across the temple with brutal strength. Confused blue eyes met Hercules' briefly, awash with pain and fearful concern.
"Herc." Iolaus gasped, then dropped to the floor, where he remained, unmoving.
Hercules pulled the amulet from Iolaus' neck and dressed quickly, stashing his prize in his boot. He studied the man on the floor; blood was streaming from his crushed cheekbone and torn lips into the bright, disheveled hair. A sickening blue bruise was spreading under the torn flesh of his temple, echoing the bloody discoloration at his jaw hinge, and an ugly lump marred the clean line of his collarbone.
Hercules bent to shake the unconscious form sharply.
"Where is he? What have you done with him?"
When no answer was forthcoming, Hercules growled with frustration and hauled the limp body into his arms, carrying him out of the inn, then out of Trias.
Freezing, black, choking pain. Frenzied and sputtering, Iolaus thrashed back to consciousness, to the sight of Hercules' enraged blue eyes blazing down at him. He coughed up a mouthful of freezing water. Gradually, it dawned on him that he was half-submerged in a bitterly cold lake, Hercules' arms clasped around him in an unforgiving, iron grip. Hercules had been holding him under the surface. The pain of betrayal lanced through him, a sister to the physical pain grating through his broken collarbone, throbbing face, and temple.
'No, Iolaus. It's not him. It's not his fault.' He tried to steady his hammering heart, clutching at his tall friend's tunic.
"Herc. Herc, it's me. It's Iolaus. Help me."
Hercules drew back a fist, dropping it with evident reluctance. His voice was tightly controlled, a menacing rumble of thunder.
"Don't ever call me that. Only Iolaus calls me that. What have you done with him? Where is he?"
"Where is ...? What are you talking about? I'm right here!"
With a roar, Hercules thrust Iolaus back under the icy, black water. Spots were dancing behind Iolaus' eyelids before Hercules yanked him back out into the air.
"Where is he?" Hercules hissed.
Iolaus stared up at him, shaken. He wasn't reaching Hercules, that much was clear. Maybe if he played along, he could save him, somehow.
"He's ... he's ..." Iolaus dropped his eyes with feigned reluctance, studying Hercules' features through his eyelashes as his mind raced.
"He's ... ?" Hercules raised a threatening fist, keeping one hand knotted in the wet tangle of his captive's hair, "I know Hera sent you; even without the bloody armor, and with my best friend's amulet strung around your filthy throat, I can recognize one of her soldiers. You ... you took his clothes. You came to me. Why? You had to know I'd realize that you weren't Iolaus, you piece of dung."
Iolaus' heart twisted within him as he studied his friend. Pain screamed from Hercules' eyes, and his voice was rough and fierce. What could breach the walls of the nightmare imprisoning him?
"Uh, yeah, well, Hera wanted me to ... to keep you busy, so you wouldn't miss him and go searching for him. Her priestess cast a spell on me so I'd look like him, and, uh, gave me his clothes."
"Where?" The single word was as cold as death.
"In Thebes. On your family's land. Hera thought it would be fitting." Iolaus held his breath; if Hercules would just rise to the bait, maybe Alcmene could help her son. Maybe her voice could reach him where Iolaus' voice could not.
"Thebes," Hercules barely breathed the word. Where Hera had destroyed his wife and children, where her Enforcer had slaughtered Iolaus, forcing Hercules to bargain with Hades for his best friend's life.
He pulled Iolaus out of the water and dumped him by the fire. Iolaus stifled a scream as the movement ground his collarbone, and nausea grated through him. He only hoped he could hang on long enough to get Hercules home, before it was too late, for both of them.
Hercules used one of Iolaus' own belts to bind his wrists before him, then doused the fire, before grabbing his elbow and heading down the road with him.
Hercules glared down at the matted hair of the man beside him, blinding pain throbbing through his brain. When would this headache end? They'd almost reached Thebes; how would he be able to save Iolaus when he could hardly see for the pain behind his eyes? His eyes narrowed as his captive stumbled for the tenth time in as many minutes and fell to his hands and knees in the dusty road, wracked with violent spasms of coughing. "Get up! I'm tired of you trying to slow us down!" Hercules grabbed the man's bound arms and hauled him to his feet.
He hung limply in Hercules' grasp for a few moments, his eyes glassy. His face was a sickly grey under its wounds, and deep, ugly bruises mottled his bare, sweat-slicked chest, crawling up toward his throat. Gradually, his dull gaze focused distantly on Hercules' face, and he began moving forward again.
Did Hera actually think that Hercules would mistake this man for his closest friend? Just because he was wearing Iolaus' clothes, because he was small and blonde? The evil in him glowed as clearly as the joy which lit Iolaus' smile; no one could mistake one of them for the other. Hercules quickened the pace, but, once again his prisoner fell. This time he remained in the dusty road, motionless.
Cursing under his breath, Hercules hefted the man over one shoulder and strode down the road, heading off a few miles later to set up camp by a stream. They would reach his land early the next morning, even if they stopped for the night, and, he wanted Hera's soldier to be alive when they got there. Just in case he'd been lying about where Iolaus was being held.
He dumped his charge unceremoniously by a rock, and went about building a fire. He felt a twinge of conscience when he returned; the man's breathing was shallow and ragged, his skin burned under Hercules' searching hand, yet he was shivering violently.
'He may be one of Hera's butchers, but, that doesn't mean that I should behave as though I were one, too.'
If only the headache would go away; it was nearly impossible to focus on the world around him with this pain blasting through him. Blinking to clear his eyes, he held his prisoner's head and dribbled some water into his mouth, relieved to see that it was swallowed smoothly. He began to check the bruised chest, grimacing when he realized that the man's right collarbone was broken. How had he borne the four days and nights of hard travel without binding for it?
Hercules shook his aching head, and regretted the action immediately. His head screamed with agony, and his vision swam.
'Chamomile for your headache, and valerian to help you sleep'. When had Iolaus said those words to him? Iolaus. What was he doing; worrying about the condition of this miserable scum, while Iolaus was being ...
The man before him groaned softly and struggled to sit up, his right arm flopping uselessly at his side.
Hercules looked down at the filthy, blonde hair and felt something within him snap.
"Where is he, damn you! What have you done to him?"
He slapped the battered, lying face, rocking his captive's head back sharply. For a wonderful, blinding moment, he thought of reaching out and snapping the man's neck, making those mockingly blue eyes close forever. He allowed himself to dwell on the thought for a moment, and realized that his hands were indeed wrapped around the muscular throat, squeezing inexorably. Remarkably, the prisoner wasn't struggling, although spasms of pain shook his oxygen-deprived body. His eyes were fixed on Hercules' face, even as the life began to fade from them. The demigod released him, struggling to comprehend what he read in that quiet gaze. Sorrow and resignation? This could not be. Clenching his hands at his sides, he rose and strode down to the stream; he needed to be alone, to cool off a bit. He couldn't kill his prisoner, no matter how much he wanted to. He might be Hercules' only link to Iolaus. He forced the memory of that powerful gaze from his thoughts; it was too confusing to consider.
From behind a nearby stand of saplings, a man watched. When he was sure that Hercules was out of sight, he ran forward, to kneel at Iolaus' side.
"Iolaus. It's me, Diomedes. Can you walk? We need to get you away from here, quickly."
He wanted to shout with relief when Iolaus' bloodshot eyes opened and focused on him dimly.
"Diomedes?" his voice was a husky whisper; his throat was red and swollen from Hercules' grip.
"Yes. Here, let me help you up. We've got to hurry."
Iolaus struggled to remain conscious as Diomedes half-carried him away from the firelight. It seemed to take an eternity, but, Diomedes felt his heart lift as he saw the cavern entrance ahead. He went in, relieved to find that a shepherd had been by here recently; fresh straw was on the rough rock shelf which served the place as a bed. He laid Iolaus on it gently, and frowned as Iolaus sank immediately into a stupor which bore little resemblance to healthy sleep. Diomedes left his side reluctantly, to carefully backtrack and cover their trail, unsure whether to be grateful for the full moon or to shun her bright beams.
When he returned, Iolaus hadn't moved; his grey-tinged face was bathed with sweat, and his matted hair dripped with it. Diomedes began checking his injuries by the moonlight streaming through the cavern entrance, swearing softly as he discovered the broken collarbone.
"Why did Hercules do this? To Iolaus, of all people? He must be mad."
Averting his eyes from the darkening fingerprints on Iolaus' neck, Diomedes rummaged in his bag and pulled out the bandaging which his dreams had prompted him to bring.
He owed Iolaus his life, but the blonde warrior had won his loyalty long before saving his life. His warm, willing friendship had made Diomedes' life bearable after his brother had been killed in battle, leaving Diomedes alone in the world. Although he was a proven warrior, Diomedes didn't make friends easily, and he was half-feared by the other men, because of his intense demeanor and his reputation as a seer. Iolaus, reckless and big-hearted as always, had befriended him immediately, and it had become as common for them to be sitting together over an ale as for Hercules and Iolaus to do so. Hercules and Diomedes were not as friendly; they were both a bit too reserved to warm up to one another without the glow of Iolaus' smile to serve as tinder.
Diomedes hadn't seen either Iolaus or Hercules for over a year, but had been troubled for nearly a week by horrendous nightmares, visions of a broken and bleeding Iolaus, which had been haunting him both day and night. Finally, he had arisen the day before and set out in the direction which his heart indicated. He had been rewarded, if such could be the word, by the sight of Hercules and Iolaus in the road. He'd nearly come forward and greeted them, but his intuition had held him back. When he saw how Hercules was behaving, he'd shadowed them silently, passing like a whisper through the woods. He'd almost come forward again when he thought Hercules was strangling Iolaus, had actually left his cover, when Hercules had dropped his hands.
He finished binding the collarbone, sweating with the effort of holding Iolaus upright to get the bandaging wound around him.
"You know, Iolaus, you may not be tall, but you are plenty solid. I could really use an ale right now."
"Diomedes?"
Diomedes jumped; he thought he'd been talking to an unconscious man.
"Yes, Iolaus, it's me. Here, drink some of this wine. We'll get you to my house tomorrow; it's not too far from here. Then I can give you some poppy, and put together some brews for that cough."
Iolaus gazed up at him, and Diomedes swallowed against a rush of fear. Those blue eyes were so hopeless. So hurt. So ... defeated.
"We have to watch out for Hercules," Iolaus' voice was a dull whisper.
Diomedes nodded, and draped his cloak over Iolaus, tucking it in around his body and shoulders.
"I know. We'll have to do without a fire, tonight. Don't worry; I'll keep you safe. Try to sl...," he smiled sadly as Iolaus drifted off before he could finish.
He brushed the sweaty hair away from Iolaus' brow and laid a wet cloth on his burning forehead. The last fever had just broken, yet, here was another.
"I'll keep you safe," he repeated softly, and settled back to watch his patient with one eye and the cavern entrance with the other.
Macedne bestowed a beaming smile on the weary traveler before her, offering the fool the inanities he expected with no conscious effort. Her mind, her will was bent on her victory. By now, Hercules must have killed his friend. Soon, the spell would dissipate, leaving him to face what he had done. Then, he would put an end to his own existence.
Ah, revenge. Sweeter than honey, it was.
Hercules continued wearily along. The lake was within his sight, now; he couldn't stop yet. He'd been furious when he'd returned to the fire the night before and found his prisoner gone. He'd tried to track him, but, his head had hurt so furiously that his vision was almost gone, and he'd given it up. It was more important to get to his land, to find Iolaus.
He quickened his pace, grimacing occasionally at the irony of the sweet, spring morning surrounding him. Bright blooms winked at him from every side, and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. There were even clumps of scarlet anemones scattered down the hillside by the lake, following the path of Iolaus' tumble, when he'd fallen, broken and bloody, to die in Hercules' arms. Hercules chuckled dryly as he recalled Adonis and Aphrodite; the anemone had originally sprung from the earth where Adonis' blood had spilled. How appropriate.
He stumbled to a halt by the lake. It had been here, right here. This is where Hera's soldiers should be; this is where they would be holding him. But, there was no one.
He wandered the shore, shouting Iolaus' name until his voice grew hoarse and cracked. He was answered only by stillness.
He fell to his knees, startled by the sudden impact. Why had the ground risen so suddenly? Now it was under his cheek, cradling his aching head. He could smell blood in the earth. Iolaus' blood. After all, this was where he had died; even the water smelled of his blood.
Hercules sighed and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the blood. Perhaps it would lead him to Iolaus.
Iolaus opened his eyes reluctantly; as bad as his dreams had been, lately, waking up had usually proven to be much worse.
He found himself in a warm, sunlit room, lying on a clean bed, looking into a very familiar face. Masses of wildly curling, red-gold hair, huge, brown eyes, fair skin ...
"Diomedes! You're still alive? I would thought one of the gods would have killed you long ago, out of jealousy."
A relieved smile lit Diomedes' beautiful face.
"You are a pain in the ass, Iolaus. Have I ever mentioned that to you?"
"All of the time," Iolaus' smile faded as memory returned, "I don't suppose there's any chance that you and I met in a tavern, downed a few tankards too many, and I dreamed that some truly awful things happened?"
"No. I wish we had. No, stay put," this as Iolaus attempted to sit up, his complexion going from white to grey as pain washed through him, "I've bound your collarbone, but, you've got to be as immobile as possible in order for it to heal properly."
"Hercules. Did you ...?"
"I haven't seen him since the evening I found you. That was almost a week ago, and there's been no sign of him, so, he must not have tracked us."
"A week! I've got to find him! He could get hurt, the state he's in," once again, Iolaus struggled to rise. This time, he made it to his elbows before the room started swimming sickly around him.
Diomedes frowned in exasperation and gently pushed him back onto the bed.
"You'll lay still or I'll bind you to the damned bed. I'm not joking, Iolaus. You can't help Hercules in this condition. Although, why you want to help him after what he's done to you, I can't guess. Well, I can guess. You'd never turn your back on Hercules. But, this time..."
Iolaus sighed.
"You're wrong, you know. I did turn my back on him, once. I'll never do it again."
Diomedes bit his foolish tongue and busied himself preparing some poppy-laced wine for Iolaus, to spare both of them the need to meet one another's eyes. He'd spent several weeks with Iolaus a couple of years before, after Xena had turned him against his best friend, and broken his heart in the process. He could see, from the flash of guilt in Iolaus' blue gaze, that his heart had never completely mended. He smiled grimly to himself; his skills as a healer were useless against the damage done to his friend by the warrior, Xena.
"Here," he turned back to Iolaus, "let me help you sit up. Now, drink this," he handed a clay goblet to his friend, "it's poppy wine; not strong enough to make you sleep again, just enough for the pain. I think, after the last week, that you'd better try consciousness for a bit."
Iolaus kept his eyes averted as he sipped at the wine, then finally met Diomedes' dark, piercing gaze again squarely.
"I can't believe that a week has gone by. I remember seeing you in a cavern. Some nightmares. Somebody screaming. A lot. Then, nothing."
"I ... almost lost you, Iolaus. Your lungs were filled, and you had a dangerous fever. All of your wounds were infected. I'm afraid that the screaming you heard was your own. You aren't the most docile of patients, you know. Now, if you'll finish the wine, I'll get back to what I was doing."
"What were you ... Oh. Great," Iolaus sighed as Diomedes dunked a cloth in a basin of warm water, "you mean that rank smell is me?"
"Well, my friend, it sure as Hades isn't me. It's been no picnic being locked up in a small house with you for a week, let me tell you," he eased up a bit as he saw a glimmer of embarrassment in Iolaus' eyes, "Iolaus, come on. You'd been hiking all over Zeus' creation with unbound wounds and fluid in your lungs; what did you expect? Now, I've already washed your hair, and what a party that was, by the way. Just be still, and you'll be clean before the poppy wears off."
Iolaus reached up and felt his damp hair, then touched his swollen jaw gingerly as Diomedes continued gently bathing him.
"Hey, did you shave me?"
"Yes. You were starting to look too weird for belief, so I risked it this morning. I was just afraid that you'd wake up in the middle of it and I'd cut you to ribbons. There. Guess what? We get to turn you onto your side. If it hurts too much, let me know."
Iolaus set his teeth against the pain as Diomedes got him turned over and went to fetch fresh water. He clenched his fists in frustration; what a time to be incapacitated. There was no telling what kind of trouble Hercules might have gotten himself into; in his state, he wouldn't be able to fight well enough to defeat a sleepy kitten. He shook his head muzzily.
"Sleepy kitten? Where did that come from?"
"What kitten?" Diomedes asked, sitting beside the bed again and dipping his cloth into the clear water.
"Never mind. How much poppy did you give me, anyway?"
"Not much. Why, are you feeling a bit lightheaded?"
"You might say that. Diomedes, we gotta get Herc. He'll get himself killed."
"Remind me to adjust the next dose of poppy a bit. Try not to worry, Iolaus. You can't help Hercules until you're better. And, you won't be better until you rest. So, stop muttering about kittens and relax for a while. I'm a famous healer, remember? I'll have you out saving Hercules in no time."
Thankfully, Iolaus' back was turned to Diomedes, so he didn't see the shadow of anger that crossed his friend's fair face as he spoke Hercules' name.
Alcmene gasped as the door flew open and Jason staggered in, supporting a half-fainting Hercules.
Hercules gazed about him groggily; the golden lamplight bathed him, and tall vases of flowers surrounded him fragrantly. He wanted to lie down on the divan before him, to let his flesh melt around his bones, to surrender to the siren song of sleep. His mother's voice, the warmth of the fire, the scent of the lamp oil; the allure of home. Peace. Safety. Memories of other times. He and Iolaus, as boys, roughhousing and shouting, while his mother tried to frown, but ended up laughing instead.
He fell bonelessly forward, burrowing his face into his arms, his long frame taking up the entire divan.
"Iolaus," he fell asleep on the word.
Alcmene turned to her husband, her eyes worried and questioning.
"I found him by the lake; for a while, I wasn't sure that I'd be able to wake him. He keeps talking about Iolaus; he seems to think that Hera is holding him somewhere nearby."
Hercules didn't stir as Alcmene pulled a blanket over him, smoothing back the disordered, honey-brown hair.
"I'll sit by him, for a while. Do you want to ..."
Jason saluted her with a lingering kiss.
"Yes, I'll go out and scout around, but, I didn't see anything unusual this morning. Until I came across Hercules, that is."
Alcmene settled in a soft chair and watched her son sleep.
The next four days were a nightmare for all of them; Hercules alternated between raging bouts of wakefulness and sleep so deep and profound that he seemed almost lifeless. Then, one morning, he sat up, and turned puzzled eyes on his mother's face.
"Mother? How did I get ...," his face darkened as unwelcome memories flooded his mind.
"Iolaus. Gods, what have I done? I have to find him!"
He struggled to rise, swaying when he reached his feet.
Alcmene rushed to support him.
"You have to eat, Hercules. You've hardly taken a drop of water in days; you won't get ten feet in this condition. Jason!"
Jason, entered the room at a run, his face lighting with a joyful smile as he saw Hercules standing. He rushed forward to place a strong arm around his step-son's waist, taking the burden of his weight from Alcmene.
"I'll see to some food. Jason, get him to sit back down and have a bath prepared."
"But, Iolaus ..." Hercules stopped talking as Alcmene flashed him her patented 'mother look'.
"That's better. You'll bathe, you'll eat. Then, we'll see."
Jason suppressed a grin as the mighty Hercules sank back down on the divan with a long-suffering look on his face. Perhaps, just perhaps, everything was going to be all right.
The story Hercules told them over his meal, though, brought the shadow of worry back to Jason's face.
"I've got to find him. I beat him, half-drowned him, and dragged him over the countryside, day and night, with barely an hour at a time to rest. Then, I almost ..." Hercules shivered as he remembered wrapping his hands around Iolaus' throat, "Another minute, less, perhaps, and he would have been dead. I can't understand how he was able to escape."
"Well, this is Iolaus, after all. He has an indomitable spirit. You know, once you find him," Hercules smiled faintly at his mother's calm assurance; as though Iolaus were in his room behind the forge, taking a nap, "you have to find out what happened. The headache started in Trias?"
"Yes. But, the nightmares started the night before. I was staying at a little inn. They had the best stew ... that's where I'll start looking. But, first, I'll find Iolaus."
Conclusion
Two days later, Hercules was deep in the forest, following a small track which led to the main road. He'd had no success in finding Iolaus, and was hoping that somehow he had run across a helpful stranger, who had taken him to one of the villages in the area. Any other possibility was too grim to be faced.
He froze in alarm as a man leapt lightly onto the track before him, and found himself confronted by a face from his past.
"Diomedes?"
"Hercules. What brings you here?"
Hercules studied him silently for a moment. Anger blazed at him from Diomedes' brown eyes, and the redheaded warrior stood poised and firm, one slim hand on the hunting blade at his belt.
"I'm looking for Iolaus."
"Why?"
Yes, white-hot anger.
"Diomedes, what's wrong? Did you find him? Is he ..." Hercules couldn't say the word.
"Is he dead? From which; exposure, exhaustion, starvation, loss of blood, strangulation? Or, perhaps, the blow to the temple? The broken collarbone wouldn't be enough, of course. But, when you add all of these things together, and mix in infected wounds and inflamed lungs, top it all off with an unset broken bone, well, that might be enough. Right?"
Hercules found himself dropping back a step as Diomedes advanced on him, his beautiful features suffused with rage.
"Diomedes. Please. Is he alive?"
"Why should you care, Hercules? Are you wondering whether you can carve a new notch in your belt?"
Hercules flinched, at that, and Diomedes regarded him scornfully.
"Listen to me. I have to find him. I know what I did, but, I was ... I don't know what happened. I need to know, is he safe? Or, did I ... kill him? You are a seer, Diomedes. So, look at me. Listen to your heart. I'm not a danger to him; not any longer. He's my best friend."
Gradually, Diomedes' stance softened, as did his angry features.
"He lives. I almost couldn't save him, though."
There was no mistaking the relief which washed across Hercules' face; his eyes lit and his shoulders lifted.
"I need to see him," Hercules realized, as he spoke the word, that 'need' was a proper expression of his feelings. He felt as though the nightmare could not end until he had seen Iolaus, as much as he dreaded it.
Diomedes stiffened again, measuring Hercules with his gaze.
"I know that you do. I'll take you to him. But," he laid a restraining hand on Hercules' arm as the demigod started forward, "if you touch him, I will kill you where you stand." Diomedes let the truth of his words shine in his eyes before he turned away and set off, without a backward glance.
Hercules followed the lithe figure, hard-pressed, in his weakened state, to keep up. Thankfully, the trip was a short one, and they soon entered a small clearing. Diomedes led Hercules into the one-room cottage which nestled there.
The medicinal scent of eucalyptus and geranium hung in the air, and a fire burned low on the stone hearth, to keep the room warm despite the unshuttered windows, which let in the sweet sunlight. Hercules' eyes passed over a table laden with scrolls and clay containers, fixing themselves on the figure occupying the low bed against the far wall.
He knelt by the bed and Diomedes followed like a shadow, to stand at his back as Hercules gazed down at his sleeping friend.
His stomach knotted at the sight of Iolaus' face. His temple, cheek, and jaw hinge were still discolored and swollen, the purple-yellow colors standing in hideous contrast to his pale skin. A deeply-scabbed tear ran along the bruised cheekbone, and, Hercules wondered sickly whether the scar would be permanent. Bandaging wrapped Iolaus' upper chest and shoulder, holding his right arm immobile against his torso. Above the bandaging, Hercules saw the black fingermarks ringing Iolaus' throat, and closed his eyes against the memories they evoked.
After a moment, he opened his eyes again, and reached a hand toward Iolaus. He stopped himself even as he felt Diomedes tense behind him. He didn't really want those blue eyes to open; he didn't want to face what he might see there. He turned at Diomedes' light touch on his shoulder, and looked up into his still face. A quick glance back at Iolaus, and he rose, following the redheaded warrior from the house.
He stood silently in the clearing for a moment, fighting against a desire to return to Iolaus' side, to awaken him, just to hear the sound of his voice. Not needing his prophetic skills to read Hercules' expression, Diomedes had placed himself squarely between the cottage and Hercules, letting his stance act as a warning.
Hercules met his eyes with growing anger, but, Diomedes didn't waver.
"You don't need to protect him from me, you must know that."
"No, I don't know that. Prove it to me."
"I thought you were a seer, Diomedes."
"Such has been my curse. But, I'd rather not rely on it in this instance, and be proven wrong."
"Iolaus is my friend."
"And, he is my friend, as well. Let him heal, then return."
Hercules was silent for a long moment.
"I'm going to the inn on the road to Trias; it's about three days from here. Do you know it?"
A shadow crossed Diomedes face.
"I know it. That place is unhealthy. It feels ... dark. Why are you going there?"
"That's where the nightmares started. I've got to find out what happened to me. Why I did what I did."
"Guard yourself, son of Zeus. I'd rather not have to bring news of your death to Iolaus."
"I'm touched by your concern," Hercules said dryly. He reached into his shirt, and brought out Iolaus' amulet, "Give this to Iolaus, when he awakes. Tell him that I'll be back once the mystery is solved. Tell him ... never mind. I'll tell him, myself, when I return."
Diomedes accepted the amulet, his eyes never wavering from Hercules' features.
"I don't want to be your enemy, Diomedes."
"I'd rather not have you for an enemy, either, Hercules. But, I will do whatever is necessary to protect Iolaus."
"As will I."
The pain in Hercules' soft words reverberated in the air, as he turned and left the clearing.
Iolaus struggled into wakefulness and sat up awkwardly, sighing. He was accustomed to telling his body what to do, and having it obey. To having such an excess of energy that he aggravated those around him to no end. He had not been blessed with an abundance of patience, and his meager stores had been completely exhausted during his convalescence.
He cast his eyes around the room, and smiled as he saw Diomedes dozing, his head on the table, one hand still clutching a scroll. Then a twinge of guilt struck him; his friend had probably barely slept for the past week.
Nature was calling in a very persistent voice, and, Iolaus decided to answer her on his own. He pulled himself up, using his left arm, and made his way out of the cottage silently. After a good bit of stumbling and some muffled curses, he attended to his needs and headed shakily back to the shelter of Diomedes' home. Oddly enough, the bed, which had seemed such a curse a few minutes before, took on the shadings of Mt. Olympus as his body protested the abuse it was suffering.
When he let himself back into the cottage, he stopped for a moment to smile down at the still-sleeping Diomedes, wondering what god had been kind enough to send his friend to his side at exactly the right moment. Before Hercules had done something which would have haunted him for the rest of his life. And, wouldn't have done Iolaus any good, either. As he was turning away, he caught a glimpse of a familiar shape lying on the table, half-hidden by Diomedes' unruly red curls. He bent closer, and caught his breath, reaching out and taking his amulet up in a trembling hand.
"Hercules," he whispered softly, slipping the thong over his head awkwardly.
Diomedes awoke instantly, pushing backward from the table and landing in a slight crouch, ready for danger. His eyes cleared as he recognized Iolaus, and a frown creased his brow.
"Iolaus. What are you doing out of bed?"
"Hercules. He was here. Why didn't you wake me? He's not still, sick, is he?"
"Yes, he was here. He seems to be himself again," Diomedes' voice was wary.
"Then, why? Why didn't you wake me? Why didn't he?"
Diomedes turned away, but, Iolaus caught his shoulder and turned him back, angry blue eyes clashing with wary brown.
"Because, I saw what he did. Because, I didn't want to take the chance that he might hurt you again."
"That wasn't your decision to make. Where is he, now?"
"He was heading for the inn on the road to Trias. He's trying to find out what happened to him, and, that's where he first started having nightmares. Iolaus, what do you think you're doing?"
Iolaus continued pulling his pants on, cursing as he fumbled with his belt, then gave up on it altogether and flung it to the floor.
"How many days' travel to this inn? How will I recognize it?"
"How many ... Iolaus, you aren't well enough to travel, yet."
"How many days?" Iolaus was grey-faced, but, adamant.
Diomedes cursed in turn and began selecting medicines from the table, shoving them haphazardly into a sack. A bit of food and some wine followed. He looked up to see that Iolaus had his boots on, and was heading for the door.
"Wait a minute. Here," Diomedes unwound the bandaging immobilizing Iolaus' right arm, noting with displeasure that Iolaus was unable to contain a grunt of pain as his arm was moved. He pulled one of his own, soft, woolen tunics from a chest, and helped Iolaus on with it, grabbing the belt from the floor and using it to cinch the dark, garnet cloth around Iolaus' tight waist. He handed a wicked-looking short sword to the blonde hunter, armed himself and threw a blanket around his shoulders like a cloak.
The two followed Hercules' path out of the clearing.
"Iolaus. This inn; I have a feeling that it is a dangerous place. You must be cautious when we arrive."
"Dangerous?" Iolaus laughed shortly, "And, you let Hercules go there, alone?"
"'Let him'? You tell me how to stop Hercules."
"Did you try?"
Diomedes' silence was his answer.
"Diomedes, why do you hate him? He's a good man, and, my best friend.. He wouldn't hurt me, not while in his right mind, you know that."
"Funny, he said pretty much the same thing to me. Iolaus, I don't hate him. But, I don't trust him right now, either. He almost killed you. In fact, you would have died, if the gods hadn't given me the dreams that sent me to your side. I know," as Iolaus began to protest, "he was sick. But, I don't know for certain that he's well, yet. Besides, he's hurt you before. While presumably in his right mind."
"When has he ever hurt me intentionally?"
It was Diomedes' turn to utter a mirthless laugh.
"Have you forgotten Xena?"
"No. I haven't forgotten. I'll never forget."
Diomedes sighed and fell silent. He knew that it was Iolaus' sense of guilt which haunted him, not the pain which he had suffered.
"Ah, back for more stew? Did you bring your friend with you, this time?"
The inn was as Hercules remembered, and so was its motherly owner. Despite Diomedes' obvious dislike of him, Hercules respected the redheaded warrior as a seer of unusual clarity and power. He kept the other man's warning close to his thoughts as he sat down, but, the inn seemed sunny, clean, and friendly as before.
"Well, some more stew would be great. I don't have my friend with me, though."
"Whyever not? Did you part ways?"
"In a manner of speaking," Hercules dropped his eyes for a moment, his brow creased with worry, then stared down at her searchingly, "did you see any troops come through here after I left a couple of weeks ago?"
"Troops? Around here? This is the sleepiest village in all of Greece, young man. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. Something strange happened to me after I left here, and I was just thinking that maybe ... well, I was just wondering. Tell me, has anyone been complaining of headaches, or nightmares in the last week or so?"
"Not to me. Have you been having some bad dreams, then?"
"The worst nightmares of my life. And a headache like nothing I've ever experienced. I lost my ..."
Hercules' voice trailed off as the innkeeper stared past him to the door, the color draining from her face. He turned to follow her gaze.
"Iolaus! What are you doing here?"
Iolaus made his painful way to Hercules' side, and plopped wearily onto a nearby bench, his breathing ragged. His golden hair was tousled, and the faded bruises and livid cuts stood out in stark relief against his pale face.
Hercules turned to the innkeeper, who was almost as pale as Iolaus.
"Please, could I get an ale for my friend?"
She recovered herself slowly.
"Well, yes, of course. So, this is the friend you've been talking about. You're right; he's no bigger than a minute."
She turned away to get the ale while Iolaus shot a murderous look at Hercules.
"'No bigger than a minute'? This is how you talk about me when I'm not around?"
"It's a long story, Iolaus. Thanks," this to the innkeeper as she placed an ale in front of Iolaus.
Hercules caught his breath as he saw the expression on her face when Iolaus hefted the ale; malice, hatred, unholy joy lit her features as the golden head tilted back and the mug touched his lips. With a curse, Hercules knocked the mug from Iolaus' hand before he drank.
"What the ...? What's wrong, Herc? I'm thirsty, here!"
A piercing shriek of rage left the innkeeper's lips.
"He should be dead! You should have killed him, this best of friends. Why isn't he dead? Why didn't you kill him? Aren't you strong enough to kill such a little man?"
Hercules grabbed her arm as she made a claw of her hand and swung it toward Iolaus' startled face.
"What's going on, here? What do you have against Iolaus?
"What do I have against him? He helped you kill my brothers! First, he nursed you after Hera's archer hit the mark and helped you follow my brother when he'd taken your mother to Echidna's cave. Once you reached her, he was there when you killed Demetrius; I'm sure he helped you do it. Then, when Maceus captured and tortured him to find you, he lied! And, he helped you kill Maceus, who was only seeking vengeance for the death of his beloved brother. That's what I have against him! He's a murderer, and the best friend of a murderer. I wanted you to kill him, the spell should have made you kill him! Then, you would have killed yourself, out of grief for him. That's what should have happened."
Iolaus frowned up at her with mock innocence.
"You tried to get Hercules to kill me? So he'd kill himself? I hate to be the one to tell you, but, this has been tried before. By a much more beautiful, much braver woman. At least she had the decency to wash my back for me. All you did was try to feed me poisoned ale. Between you and me, your technique needs work."
Hercules felt an absurd bubble of laughter rising in his chest, and grinned down at Iolaus.
The innkeeper took advantage of his momentary amusement by breaking away from his slackened grasp. She stepped behind the bar, fumbling beneath it. Iolaus rose with evident pain to stand beside Hercules, and she laughed shrilly.
"I can see that he did some damage to you, though. It was you who marked up your friend's pretty face, wasn't it, Hercules? He's not looking very well; perhaps he'll die yet," she laughed again as she saw the guilt in Hercules' face, "My spell was strong, wasn't it? Perhaps a bit too strong? Tell him, little one. Tell him how you felt as you suffered at his hands."
Hercules looked down at Iolaus, and saw the shadow of fear and pain which lurked in those cerulean depths.
"Herc. You weren't to blame. It wasn't ... Herc, watch out!"
Iolaus knocked Hercules to the floor, as a ceramic ball whizzed inches from his head. It hit the floor and burst open, emitting a noxious wave of fumes that quickly filled the inn. Coughing, eyes streaming, Hercules and Iolaus, along with the rest of the inn's customers, stumbled out into the fresh air.
"There!"
Hercules followed Iolaus' pointing finger; the innkeeper's plump figure was disappearing into the woods. The two followed her as she dodged in and out, around trees and bushes.
"Hey, she's good," Iolaus panted, "you'd never guess she was this nimble."
The chase ended abruptly, as the innkeeper reached a tree-lined cliff. She turned, and the warriors slowed cautiously; there was nothing more dangerous than prey bought to bay.
Her formerly bright eyes narrowed, and her plump features seemed to cave in on themselves. Her mouth moved with a low, humming sibilance of sound, her soft fingers weaving intricate shapes in the air. Hercules pulled his tunic away from his sweating chest, his lungs heaving from the run, burning from the heat in the air. A thick, ugly haze swam toward him, and his head rocked back. He forced himself to turn and look at Iolaus; his friend had fallen to the ground, pulling himself painfully to his knees, his injured arm hanging at his side. His bright head gleamed through the evil mist, and Hercules drew strength from the sight.
Summoning all of his courage, he forced himself to take a step forward, then another, and another. The sorceress lifted a languid finger, and his knees locked; he barely kept himself from falling.
"See, Hercules. See how your friend dies. Look behind you, he's dying now."
Hercules fought the impulse to turn, but, the pressure was too great. Had this last chase been too much for Iolaus' depleted strength? Slowly, with a sense of destiny fulfilled, he turned to search for the sight of Iolaus. A choked scream brought his head back around sharply, in time to see the witch fall backward into the chasm, a bright sword buried in her heart. Her own hand held a black blade, which she'd been on the point of launching at him. A shrill laugh cut the air as she fell, then a silence so profound that his own labored breathing seemed deafening.
He turned, and saw Diomedes, whose hand was still upraised, his face a cold, beautiful mask. Slowly, the redheaded warrior lowered his arm, to stand like an alabaster statue, his gaze lowering to Iolaus.
Hercules started forward, and helped Iolaus to his feet.
"Wow. What a family! I hope there aren't any more brothers or sisters lurking in the underbrush," Iolaus smiled shakily up into Hercules' concerned face, accepting the offer of a strong arm to pull him to his feet. He grimaced against the pain in his collarbone, and freed himself from Hercules' support. "Can you imagine the family reunions? Yikes!"
The smile faded from his face as his gaze found Diomedes. Hercules walked over to the other man, and extended a hand.
"Thank you, Diomedes. I owe you my life."
Diomedes nodded.
"You owe me nothing, Hercules. You would have done the same for me, with, perhaps, less reason," Diomedes dropped his gaze as Iolaus came forward to take his hand in a warm clasp.
"Diomedes," Iolaus searched his friend's face, frightened at his lack of expression, "Diomedes. Are you all right?"
Slowly, the haunted brown eyes focused on Iolaus.
"Iolaus. I thought you were dead."
"Dead? Why ...? A spell?"
"Yes. No. Yes. A spell. She was ... powerful. I saw ..." Diomedes broke off and gripped Iolaus' elbow firmly, "Never mind. You know where I'll be, if you need me." He released Iolaus' elbow and turned away.
"Wait! Uh, just like that? Don't you want to toss back a couple of ales? I think they'll be free for a few days."
Diomedes favored Iolaus' worried face with a sweet smile.
"Nah. My own ale is better. Take care of Hercules, will you?" He turned to Hercules and their eyes met for a moment, "And you, son of Zeus. Take care of my friend."
Diomedes was gone, fading into the trees like a memory.
Iolaus shook his head, his smile denying the tears that glimmered in his gaze.
"I've really gotta get him to teach me that trick, someday. What a hunter he would make."
Hercules draped an arm around his shoulders as they headed back to the inn.
"What was that you were saying about free ale?"
Several of those free ales and a huge bit of catching up later, Iolaus and Hercules were gazing morosely at the fire.
"It really was great stew. You should have been here."
"Yeah, right. Then I'd have had a go at you; would have saved that sorceress a whole lot of trouble, I think."
Hercules' slightly dizzy face took on a shadowed look, as unwelcome reflection reared its ugly head.
"Iolaus. I don't know how I'll ever be able to live with what I did to you. What I almost did."
Iolaus smiled up at him, his eyes as clear as the morning sky.
"Herc. Don't. What's a spell between friends, anyway? Just get me to your mother's house, for some good food and poppy wine; I'll kick your ass next week, fix you proper. What do you say?"
Hercules' face was still creased with worry and guilt, and Iolaus sighed heavily.
"My friend, I know that you would never hurt me, intentionally. You are a good man. The best of friends. Please, let it go, if you can. Let's just try to find another festival after we visit Jason and Alcmene, OK?"
Hercules gifted Iolaus with a broad, assenting smile.
"Want another ale?"
The barmaid came up, a bit timidly; she didn't quite know where to look first. The large, gorgeous brunette, or, that toothsome little blonde? She tried to divide her interested glances evenly.
"Would either of you care for some boar stew?"
"NO!" they shouted simultaneously, terror shrouding their happily tipsy features.
"OK, OK," she said, stalking away, her temporary interest forgotten. Some people!
The End
Some images, characters and other things used in these works are the property of others, including but not limited to Renaissance Pictures and Universal Studios. Everything else remains the property of the artist or author. No money will be made on anything appearing on this webpage and no copyright infringement is intended. This site was created by fans for the enjoyment of other fans.
For information on reprinting text and/or artwork (including privately owned photos, photo manipulations, and other images) from this website, please contact IolausianLibrarians , who will assist you in contacting the original creator of the piece. Do NOT reprint, republish, or in any way link to items on these pages without obtaining permission from either the original creator of the piece or the webpage owner. A written one-time use statement may be issued to you at the discretion of the artist or the author. Please respect the legal and artistic rights of our contributors.