by Therese
The first tentative rays of dawn sent violet blue fingers through the last resisting darkness, bathing the morning in an eerie grey light.
Iolaus rolled closer to the fire, his thoughts caught in the netherworld between waking and dreams, ground mist in his nostrils and a chill in his bones from having rolled onto the cold earth in his sleep. He was about to be presented with the king's buxom daughter as a reward for brave deeds when a cry shook him free from the light bonds of sleep.
He was on his haunches, crouching, ready to fight even before the girl's magnificent green eyes had faded from his consciousness. But, this time at least, there were no attackers.
Hercules was still asleep, laying curled uncharacteristically and incongruously into a tight ball. Iolaus watched him for a few moments, trying without success to remember ever seeing him like that before. A fleeting thought of illness was dismissed quickly--Hercules's face was relaxed, smoothed by sleep and apparently oblivious to the uncomfortable position he'd achieved.
Iolaus was about to stoop to throw another branch on the fire before reorganising his bed when that face screwed up into a combination of rage and anguish and his friend cried out even more loudly, more urgently than before. Iolaus watched incredulously as the powerful body trembled, hands clenching and unclenching, moisture surging from beneath the ridiculously long lashes and trickling down the side of his face onto the mossy earth.
The smaller man had fought great battles, rescued and saved Hercules almost as many times as the big man had saved him, yet now he felt as helpless as a newborn, watching his friend in the throes of some nameless grief or anguish and not knowing whether it was kinder to wake him, or to leave him his privacy.
Finally Iolaus swallowed and moved to Hercules' side. He touched a bicep damp with sweat.
"Hercules..?"
In a split second Hercules was wide awake, as prepared for danger as Iolaus had been minutes earlier.
"It's okay," Iolaus told him gently. "You were dreaming. I wasn't sure--I thought...are you okay?"
The question was made redundant by the despair still clouding the blue eyes. Hercules shook his head.
"I'm fine. Why do you ask? Trying to get out of cooking breakfast again?" he grinned.
Iolaus looked at him sharply but shrugged with his usual carelessness. "It's your turn," he said easily and smiled back.
They made a great many kilometres that day. When they again rested for the night Iolaus stayed awake. Not for too long, as it turned out, for Hercules had dropped into an easy sleep as he always did--and looked as untroubled as he ever had, arms and legs sprawled, hair in his eyes, mouth just slightly ajar, magnificent chest rising and falling rhythmically beneath his tunic.
Iolaus shook his head. It had been a simple nightmare. Nothing more; and wondered why it took him two hours to shake the feeling of foreboding and to get to sleep. It was to be amplified when the events of the previous morning repeated themselves, this time only a little after midnight, the sheen of sweat on Hercules' face glistening in the firelight as a troubled Iolaus went to him again.
The process was repeated again the next night, and the one after, until they reached the outskirts of Thebes, Hercules in good spirits at the prospect of seeing his mother and Jason again.
Alcmene was surprised but pleased to see her son, and Iolaus, who made her laugh. The evening was a happy, relaxed one, and for a time Iolaus forgot his worries and joined in the pleasure of being completely at ease with three of his favorite people in the world.
It was only as he was closing his eyes on the spare cot across the room from Hercules' bed that the foreboding returned to haunt him, this time with the spectre of Hera thrown in for good measure. Iolaus had no idea why she had leaped into his thoughts at that moment, but decided that it could only be an ill omen on an already troublesome journey. He woke again in the night and turned over, blinking the sleep from his eyes, to check Hercules, certain that he'd been wakened by another cry but with no recollection of hearing one.
A shadow passed before a half-open sleepy eye, the flap of a sleeve, the hushed footfall of sandals treading tenderly alerting him to possible danger but by the time he'd leaped to his feet they were alone, the door still closed, the plant on the window undisturbed. Iolaus shook his head and went back to bed.
They were to stay several days in Thebes. Hercules hadn't seen Alcmene in almost six months; that the decision to come to Thebes had been sudden and unexplained, Iolaus dismissed as Hercules' prerogative after several long and depressing campaigns against various dark forces and the omnipresent Hera.
Hercules strolled into the kitchen where Alcmene was working among the most tempting breakfast aromas and an assortment of his favorite foods. His hair was still damp from washing, and there was a small nick on the left side of his chin where his shaving had been less than successful.
"Smells great," he said near her ear. "It's good to be home, mother. She swung around unexpectedly and put her arms around him. Hercules returned her embrace, half bemused, half puzzled.
"Mother?"
"I'm fine. I just..." She tightened her embrace, then released him, to reach up and touch his cheek.
"Mother, what is it?"
She shook her head. "I've been having nightmares--"
The blue eyes widened, but he made no comment.
"I just--its so good to see you, Hercules," she said softly.
They locked gazes. "Have you seen him?" he asked equally softly.
She shook her head again. "Only in my dreams--my nightmares..."
Hercules nodded wordlessly, but his eyes spoke volumes.
Iolaus exhaled, frustrated. He wasn't even going to tell his mother about the nightmares.
Breakfast was a light-hearted affair, almost forced in its joviality. They were almost done when the runner came. A youth, no more than twenty or twenty one, worn from days of running, and near collapse with exhaustion, staggered up to the table.
In a second Iolaus had moved to catch the boy around the waist and support him to a bench at the table. For a time he was unable to speak, but drank greedily from the draft Alcmene set before him. Finally he sat back, his breathing more even, though his color was still terrible.
Hercules watched the boy with compassion, vague unease troubling his clear blue gaze. "What is that drives you so hard, friend?" he asked gently.
"My name is Franko. I...seek...Hercules," the boy panted, a mixture of fear and determination in his still childish features.
"And what trouble might require Hercules so badly that you would almost kill yourself to find him?" Iolaus asked.
The boy swallowed, and pushed strands of fair hair from his eyes. "There's a beast--"
"Another beast," Alcmene sighed.
"There's always another beast," Iolaus observed unhelpfully.
"Or two," Jason added dryly.
"Go on," Hercules said, ignoring them.
Franko, encouraged by the kindness in the big stranger's eyes, continued his story.
"My village--Gargarensia--is a small one."
Hercules started, and his eyes narrowed. Anyone watching would have seen the blood draining slowly from his face, but he continued to listen in silence.
"...Nothing ever happens there...well, not until, at least--well, someone in the village has annoyed the Gods," Franko continued. "We've had floods out of season, a fire destroyed half the village when the earth should have been too damp, and now a great beast, an abomination--it walks on two legs like a man, but looks and smells like a giant wolf, except that its coat is longer, and tangled, and matted with the smell of death. It hunts at night. The people of my village will not leave their houses after dusk, or before dawn. It has killed three times so far, leaving very little for us to identify the victims. No one knows why it keeps coming back to our village. There are many deer in the forest and the stream is full of fish. Upwind, and not more than an hour's walk from our village, is the town of Pelopus, with many more people moving about at night, but over and over it returns to Gargarensia to terrorise us. Sometimes I think it must be looking for something." Franko sighed. "I have to find Hercules. Someone said he came here, to Thebes, but I don't know where to begin looking. Only he can defeat the beast. Only he can tell us why the Gods are displeased with us."
Hercules cast an involuntary, cynical glance skyward, then focused on the boy again, unaware of the sadness in his eyes.
"I'm not so sure about that," he pointed out. "It's been a long time since I--since Hercules had any communication with the Gods. It's not exactly a close relationship."
"You know Hercules?"
The boy's earnest enthusiasm was too much for Hercules. He smiled. "I am Hercules. This is my friend Iolaus and my mother, Alcmene and her husband, Jason."
"You're really him? I found you? Really?"
Hercules' smile widened. "Really. But why did you wait so long to look for me?"
"The priestess said it would vex the Gods if we asked you to come," Franko admitted cautiously. "But after my f--after the last death--the village elders felt there was no other answer. The priestess could give us no reason for the Gods' displeasure--only warnings against bringing you there."
"Priestess? Does this priestess have a name?" he asked quietly.
"Shanna. Her name is Shanna, but that's all we know about her --that, and that she was sent to us by Hera."
Hercules rose from the table and wandered off, leaving a mildly surprised Iolaus, a bemused Alcmene and Jason, and a startled Franko at the table.
After a couple of beats Iolaus followed him. He found his friend behind the house on his haunches, deep in thought.
"What?" Iolaus asked quietly.
Hercules' shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn. "I miss them," he whispered.
Iolaus' face grew bleak. "I know," he said gently, and stepped toward his friend. Whatever the explanation was for Hercules' behaviour, it wasn't for him to ask. He rested his hand with deceptive casualness on a wide shoulder.
Hercules remained silent for a long time, stirring only when Iolaus finally moved to lift his fingers. He covered the hand with one of his own in a rare gesture.
"Thanks, Iolaus."
The warmth of the physical contact seemed to bring focus to the power that was their friendship. The smaller man opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.
There was nothing he could say.
The air seemed at once filled the spirits of Daenaira and her children. Iolaus looked down at the great slumped shoulders. Hercules had raged over their deaths, over the betrayal by his father, and he had brooded at his mother's house after it happened, and yet, despite his long campaign of revenge against Hera, Iolaus realized for the first time, his friend had never really exorcised that pain, only pushed it away, forced into a dark corner of his mind; only to have it laid open again by Serena's murder. He'd worked even more single mindedly to bury that.
Until now.
Something, or someone, had forced it all back to the surface. For what reason Iolaus couldn't fathom.
"Are you going to help Franko?" he found himself asking, and knew that it would distract Hercules from the particular hell he seemed to have slipped into.
Hercules looked up at him blankly. "Franko? Yeah, I guess...I don't know..maybe.."
The corners of Iolaus' mobile mouth tugged upward in spite of themselves. "I'll take that as a yes," he said wryly.
The blue eyes focused then. "Yes," he agreed. "But only because we both know that the angry 'Gods' Franko was talking about are going to be Ares and Strife or more likely Hera up to her old tricks again."
"Hera? Then she's manipulating you. Maybe she wants you to go with Franko. Maybe its all just a trick to get you where she wants you..?"
Hercules eyes became more bitter than Iolaus could ever remember. Then he spoke, each word a shaft of cold steel.
"Then she can have me..."
Alcmene watched as the three men finished with gusto the farewell meal she'd prepared, concern in her still beautiful face for her son. Something was wrong. And somehow the trip to Gargarensia, Franko's small town, only filled her with more dread.
Hercules took a last draft from the jug of cold spring water and rose, Iolaus following worriedly, to stand with Franko. Hercules' goodbyes were as unwilling as his mother's, Alcmene only releasing him with reluctance, to allow him to shake hands with Jason.
Franko was surprised and pleased to find himself travelling with the great Hercules and his fighting companion.
"Gargarensia will rejoice at its good fortune," he said enthusiastically as Alcmene shrank in the distance and Hercules turned from a last, almost wistful look at his parent.
"Gargarensia sounds like it can use all the help it can get," Iolaus observed dryly, and failed to see the shadow that passed over his friend's face.
Franko grinned as he strode between them. "And now it has it," he pronounced with satisfaction.
Hercules let out a resigned breath. Iolaus looked sideways at their companion and rolled his eyes. Then both men smiled, the bigger man in spite of his mood.
Nothing ever changed.
Gargarensia was deserted when they arrived. Or so it appeared, until Franko pointed out that it was almost dark and nobody in Gargarensia was about to tempt the Gods again. In spite of the lack of light Hercules could see that beyond the addition of a few more buildings, and a few obvious feminine touches, little had changed.
Nor, Hercules noticed, had Iolaus shown any recognition whatsoever of his surroundings. He was glad. If his father had done nothing else right in his lifetime, he'd at least gotten this right. And Franko had grown into a fine young man...
Had it been that long..? And what had Franko said about the last death? He'd almost said: 'father'...then Pithis was dead...
Hercules sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Go home," he told Franko when they were almost at the temple, "I need to talk to the priestess. And you need to be off the street," and was surprised to find Franko agreeing readily with him. When the boy had disappeared into one of the rude homes, Hercules and Iolaus turned again for the temple.
'Temple' was perhaps an exaggeration. It was more of an elaborately decorated altar in an equally rude building of perhaps three times the size of most of the homes. Apart from the altar, however, there was little else to distinguish the structure from any of the other buildings. A lone, bent figure turned from the latest clutter of offerings.
"You shouldn't be here," it warned. The crone was dressed in lavish contrast to her surroundings.
Hercules cocked his head to one side assessingly. "Why? You on a first name basis with this beast the villagers are afraid of?"
The crone screwed up her leathery face and her rheumy red eyes became slits.
"Disrespectful, son of Zeus. Little wonder that Hera has little love for her stepson..."
"Hera?" Hercules asked warily, casting his eyes about. "This isn't exactly the kind of tribute Hera usually goes in for."
The crone snorted. "This isn't one of Hera's temples. These people are poor, but they still want to pay tribute to the Gods. They built this hovel. They didn't dare dedicate it to any single God, for fear their pitiful effort would call down wrath rather than blessing. Instead they consecrated the altar as a place to make offerings to all and any of the Gods.
"Then what has Hera to do with you?" Iolaus demanded, the hair on his neck still pricking at the mention of that name. He didn't need to look to feel the same tension in the man at his side.
"Well you might ask," crooned the priestess. "But I cannot answer." She looked heavenward for a moment. "I did all I could, but all will be played out now as was planned."
She sighed. And then suddenly, she was gone. Just gone.
Hercules and Iolaus looked around themselves, at the rafters in the ceiling, behind the altar and outside the door, but there was no sign, not even a footprint to indicate that she had ever even been there.
Outside the temple Iolaus looked down the rows of dimly lit buildings and then up at his friend as they walked.
"I don't suppose you've given any thought as to where we're going to sleep tonight?
Hercules shrugged. "In the forest," he replied casually.
"In the...?" In the FOREST?" Iolaus shouted. "Haven't you been listening to Franko? There's something very nasty out there--something that probably belongs to Hera--and it eats people. If it is one of Hera's pets you're already on the menu...as the main course!"
Hercules laughed without humor. "And what does that make you? The entree?"
Iolaus made a face at him. "You can laugh now, but I've had a bad feeling since before your mother's place. The FOREST for the Gods' sake??"
"The forest," Hercules confirmed, as they left the comfort of the dull glow of the village. "There, as a matter of fact."
'There' was a natural hollow with boulders on two sides.
"Well at least its defensible," Iolaus muttered, his tone turning sardonic, "for those of us sensible enough to carry a weapon," and drove his sword into the earth next to the place on which he'd chosen to sleep.
Within minutes Hercules had started a fire and made himself comfortable. Ahead of them they could see the dark shadows of the rest of the forest and to their left, the glow of the village.
"I don't suppose we're actually going to sleep?" Iolaus ventured, working himself into a more comfortable position.
"Your choice," Hercules told him and promptly laid back, pushing the hair from his eyes, closing them and laying his hands on his chest.
"Oh, gee, thanks," muttered his friend. "I'll just take first watch. It's okay. It's great. Fine. Sheesh..."
Barely visible in the flicker of the small fire, Hercules' tired face creased momentarily into a smile.
Iolaus was snoring softly, his back propped against a rock, his mouth slightly open, when the sound disturbed them.
Adrenalin electrified every inch of his body. He was on his feet, sword in hand even before Hercules had opened his eyes. He blinked. In the moment between sleep and waking, between rest and fight, he saw something. As hard as he tried all that would come into focus was a cloak. A figure in a dark cloak. There and then not.
The fire had burned down to coals. A bluish blush to the black velvet near the horizon told him that it was nearing dawn.
Hercules was now leaning on one elbow, having decided that the only disturbance to his sleep was his friend.
"What are you doing, Iolaus?" he asked shortly.
"I heard something. I saw something. Someone was here. " And..?"
"And...and I only saw the figure for a moment. Then it was gone."
"The priestess?"
Iolaus shook his head. "Bigger. That's about it though. A dark cloak. Bigger. That's it."
At that Hercules gained his feet and retrieved some long-dead sticks with leaves still on from a small pile he'd put aside and threw them on the fire. After a few moments the hot coals ignited the leaves and the fire blazed back to life. Another handful of small branches and sticks and Hercules straightened to face Iolaus.
"Bigger..." he mused. "Either its someone from the village or," he looked skyward, "they're playing games again."
"Hera?"
Hercules considered. "Maybe." He looked around. "So where's our beast?"
Iolaus also glanced around. "Maybe we should have taken a bath?" he offered, drawing a reluctant chuckle from his friend. "Come to think of it," he sniffed his own armpit, "maybe all that bathing at your mother's is the problem. We're too clean. It can't smell anything but soap."
Hercules shook his head, still chuckling. His knees were bending to lower himself to the ground again when there was an ominous crashing and splintering sound behind them.
In an instant they were standing back to back, Iolaus, sword in hand, and Hercules armed with a chunk of rotten tree stump.
The crashing grew louder and a rank odour reached their nostrils. The beast was every bit as ugly and ferocious as its description. Worse, even in the firelight they could see its front was bloodied and sinew and tissue still hung from its teeth and chin.
They had failed. Someone had perished while they slept. Someone who should have been indoors...
Angered, Iolaus surged forward, ready to avenge the unknown victim's death, and perhaps his own conscience. Alongside him, Hercules put a staying hand on his arm.
"We'll follow it. I want to know where it goes, who it goes home to," he said darkly.
Iolaus closed a mouth primed with criticism of his friend's uncharacteristic inaction and followed Hercules' long strides into the forest. It moved quickly, noisily, but always one or two strides beyond their sight.
Their headlong chase brought them to a sheer cliff face. There was no further trace of the creature. The tracks simply...vanished. Hercules cursed.
It took over an hour to get back to the village. In full daylight it was a different place, people and activity everywhere. Franko was startled but pleased to see that they had survived the night without killing the beast.
"The beast had eaten," Hercules explained. "The question is: who..?"
Franko frowned. "None from the village are missing, Hercules. Perhaps it was a traveller--a salesman or somesuch...?"
Hercules frowned, then a shadow crossed his blue eyes, before he dismissed the idea. Salmoneous was in Corinth...
"Possibly," he agreed. "You're sure no one from the village is missing? You've checked?"
Franko shrugged. "If there was a death people would be talking, mourning--"
"Fran-ko-o..!" a small voice called from behind them. Hercules turned and watched a tiny girl about Ilaya's age, with the same gold curls, scurrying toward Franko.
"My sister," Franko explained sheepishly. "Neria, why aren't you helping mother?" he demanded as she came to halt before him.
The big grey eyes blinked. "I wanted to see Hercules. You said it was true. You said he was here."
"It's true. I'm here."
Iolaus turned to look at his friend. Hercules was smiling, but it barely reached his eyes. Then Franko was calling the smaller man to the stall of a vendor of fresh juices, the boy obviously trying to put sheepish distance between his sister and himself.
The little girl's eyes travelled the length of the huge form before her, until they reached the gentle blue eyes.
"You're--?"
"--Hercules?" Hercules finished in amused unison with her and brought himself down to her level. "Yup. But that isn't a very good reason for running away from your mother."
Neria rolled her eyes and pushed his massive shoulder with a flourish before letting Hercules catch her small fingers. "Don't be silly. I di'n't run away. I just wanted to see. Mother is feeding the baby."
"Well," he said softly, "I'm glad to hear it." He brushed a curl from a flushed pink cheek. "Always remember how much your parents love you. No matter what happens."
Neria blinked. Children cried. Mother cried. Men didn't cry. She reached out pudgy fingers and touched the moisture on a weathered cheek.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, fear in her small, baby-child voice, tears springing to the grey eyes, suddenly huge in a tiny face.
"No-o," he whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Hurts?" she ventured.
He nodded almost imperceptibly and tried to smile. "Hurts," he confided softly.
"Where?" she whispered, as if sharing a secret.
"Here." He drew her fingers to his heart.
Neria frowned, and Hercules at once became self conscious.
"Maybe you better go home before--" he began, but faltered when two small arms wreathed themselves around his neck.
"It'll be better soon," Neria whispered gravely in his ear, in a perfect imitation of her mother's soothing tone.
He drew a great, trembling arm around her and held her close for a moment. "I know," he replied, as soon as he was able. "I know."
A moment later he set her back and dragged the back of his hand roughly across his face.
"Better?" she asked in her best parental tone.
He smiled, and this time it penetrated the hurt in his eyes.
"Better," he lied, and touched her cheek again. "Why don't we go find your brother and Iolaus?"
As they watched Franko reluctantly take the little girl home, Iolaus rested a silent hand on Hercules' shoulder.
"Are we going to check the village ourselves for trouble? I have a bad feeling."
Hercules looked down at him in mock exasperation. "Another one? Why can't you have a good feeling once in a while?"
Iolaus chuckled. "I have a lot of good feelings," he said, making an hour-glass shape in the air, "but there's not a lot of inspiration in this town."
At that Hercules laughed in spite of himself, and shook his head.
"Here comes Franko, back again. Let's get started," he suggested wryly. Maybe you'll find some inspiration along the way..."
At each building the report was the same. A safe night and no news of anyone being lost. At the last Hercules rapped on the door but there was no answer. Iolaus found a window. There was little to be seen except that the room seemed to be filled with light. They crawled through the window to discover that the roof had been torn open.
"Hercules--" Franko had found spatters of blood on the floor and one wall. He shook thick sandy hair from his blue eyes. "Darius lived here. He was old and a little deaf. No one has been taken from their homes before. Why..?"
Hercules frowned. "What is it about this town? You said yourself the creature could find an easy meal over in Pelopus at any time, yet it adapts specifically to continue to feed on the people of Gargarensia. The Gods have to be involved--Hera has to be involved..."
"What could you have done," Iolaus continued, "to have annoyed Hera this badly?"
"Nothing," yelped Franko, almost guiltily.
Hercules tilted his head and searched the boy's face. "Now the truth, Franko."
Franko swallowed. It was impossible to lie to this man. "Two seasons ago we were starving. Our offerings to the Gods were ignored, despite the cost of building the shrine. The rains didn't come, the game vanished, the stream dried up, the earth refused to produce--the Gods ignored us. Finally, when we were at our most desperate a priestess appeared at the altar...out of nowhere--"
"You mean that old crone we were talking to yesterday?" Iolaus asked.
Franko looked puzzled. "Shanna? Old? She has the appearance of a maiden somewhat less than my own years. Only her eyes are old...what--?"
"We didn't see anyone but an ancient, shrivelled woman with a bent back--" Hercules began.
"--Who spoke in riddles," Iolaus finished. "So where's this Shanna person?"
"She comes and goes from the altar, but she never leaves the shrine. She goes to seek the wisdom of Hera. Shanna is the one who saved our village from starvation. She told us that Hera would feed us if we made all the children in the village and all those born hence, hers. We agreed immediately. Our children were all dying. We believed in her. We believed she cared for our children and would watch over them. Then, last year Shanna informed us that Hera wanted to begin collecting her debt. The eldest child of each family was to be sacrificed at the altar..."
Franko stopped at the look of sheer hate on Hercules' face, shivered, then continued. "We refused. At first we even sent the children away to Pelopus. Shanna told us that Hera was angry, enraged by our perfidy. Hercules, how could we do anything else?! How could we kill our own children? We didn't fill our stomachs and theirs on the lives our children. My mother says Hera is still angry about the Amazons deserting her to return to Gargarensia. She says Hera tricked us."
"She's been known to do that," Iolaus muttered. "Amazons?"
Franko chuckled softly. "My mother was an Amazon. I grew up in this village when there were no women. All the women of Gargarensia were tricked by Hera into believing that they didn't need men at all, that they were better off away from us, except of course, when they needed to reproduce. Then they would come to the village and take what they wanted. Then my father went to see Hercules, to ask him to help us." He turned to the bigger man.
"Hercules didn't come to Gargarensia, but what he told my father changed our lives forever. My mother came home--" he smiled to himself with satisfaction. "The Amazons disbanded. Only a few true devotees held out, and moved on to continue practising the Amazon lifestyle elsewhere..."
When he drifted into a brown study, Hercules gave vent to his frustrated anticipation.
"I remember your father said they had a leader...I think her name was Hippolyta. Do you know what happened to her?" he asked, his need to know overwhelming his natural reticence for once.
Franko looked at him curiously, momentary puzzlement in his eyes, as if he'd discovered a memory that didn't quite fit.
"Hippolyta has suffered terribly for not obeying Hera's orders. She is not as she was when I was a small boy," he said quietly. Hercules' eyes widened. "She's alive?"
Franko nodded. "Of course. She is one of the wisest of the village elders. She lives there," he said, pointing toward a small house midpoint of the village, where he'd checked earlier.
Hercules watched it mesmerically. "But you don't think Hera's anger has anything to do with the Amazons? That maybe she caused the famine to manoeuvre you into willingly giving her the vengeance she craves?
Franko looked shocked. "She would do that?"
"She would do that," Iolaus confirmed. "And she would get royally ticked off if you reneged." He grinned. "Which I'm glad to say, you did."
Hercules finally spoke. "Which is why she sent this monster. But if that's so, why hasn't it tried to take the children instead of preying on any poor fool out in the dark?"
Iolaus, who'd been squinting up at the sun shining through the roof while Hercules spoke, turned to the others. "What if it's a creature of the night, of the shadows. What if it can't stand the light? Daylight, even firelight might be enough--"
"It doesn't make sense," Hercules muttered, Neria's small face filling his mind's eye. "If Hera wants the children badly enough she doesn't need monsters to take them."
Iolaus saw a shiver traverse Hercules' entire body, saw the pain creasing his friend's face.
"Unless," he ventured, "someone is stopping her from doing that. Unless someone has forced her to find a convoluted way to get what she wants." His eyes locked with Hercules' blue ones.
After a time Hercules shook his head. "No. Why should he? I don't know what's going on, but he doesn't have anything to do with it."
Iolaus thought otherwise but forbore to say so. The little he'd had to do with Zeus had left him with the impression that there was a great deal more of the father in the son than either of them were willing to admit.
"Maybe we should go see if this Shanna is ready to say hi. I'd sure like to know exactly who that old crone was, though."
"So would I," Hercules agreed as Franko opened the door and they left the dwelling, "but I wouldn't count on getting any answers from any messenger of Hera's."
The altar was deserted.
"Looks like Hera's avoiding us," Hercules drawled. "Look at all that wasted food. You'd think people would learn that the Gods don't give a damn about their offerings. But they never do..."
Iolaus looked sideways at him. "So where do we go from here?"
"Hera's not getting any of these kids," he said under his breath. "Not with beasts, or warriors or..." he swallowed, ...fire." He swung around sharply and swept all the perished offerings from the altar with an angry slash of his arm. Then he seem to gather himself, though his eyes were cold.
"Tonight we kill that beast. And then we deal with Hera."
Franko looked frightened. "The Gods will be angry about the offerings."
Hercules looked at the spoiled food with disgust. "The Gods didn't even know it was here," he rasped. "All they care about is themselves. All they've ever cared about was themselves."
"You said Shanna never leaves the shrine. I don't see her anywhere," Iolaus observed.
Franko cleared his throat. "S..she's never been seen outside of this building. She's either here or she's...well, she's not."
"Yeah?" Iolaus said sceptically and looked heavenward. "Well, if she's afraid to talk to us," he added more loudly than necessary, "or too busy fetching and carrying for Hera," he almost shouted, "then we'd better move on. We're wasting our time--"
A slender young woman with flowing hair the color of ripened wheat, appeared at the altar. Where she came from none of them could say. She suddenly just was. She was exquisitely beautiful but her piercing blue eyes, a blue that matched Hercules' own, were like frozen diamonds.
A shiver went down Iolaus' spine, and it had nothing to do with desire. She was young. Had she not been so tall, and so full of figure, he might have thought her yet a child. Yet there was something about her...
He stole a glance at Hercules, to find his friend seething with hate.
Shanna wasn't an emissary of Hera. Shanna was Hera.
Instinctively he put a restraining hand on Hercules' arm.
"Is this all you have to do with your time, Hera?" Hercules hissed. "Manipulating the poorest of mortals, trying to kill their children? Aren't there better things for the Queen of the Gods to occupy her time with?"
Shanna laughed, but the sound was unpleasant. "Only your death, dear Hercules, but you seem bent on delaying that small pleasantry, so I find my distractions elsewhere."
"Why are you punishing these people?" he demanded explosively, half knowing the answer, remembering too late that Franko and Iolaus were not privy to the version of Gargarensia's history he shared with Hera.
"Why not?" she purred. "What's good for your father..."
Hercules eyes narrowed, mainly to hide his confusion. "My father?"
She laughed almost raucously. "Think about it," she told him. "They will pay for defying me. As will you, Hercules, son of a mortal bitch--"
She got no further, Hercules lunging forward, his hands reaching for her throat.
But then, as with the crone, she simply wasn't, any more. Hercules stumbled across the room, straightened and pivoted looking for trouble. All he found was Franko and Iolaus, the former pale with shock, the latter more concerned about Hercules than his rabid stepmother.
"Franko," Hercules rasped, when he'd gathered himself, "I want to see Hippolyta..."
Hercules stepped through the door not knowing what to expect. The house was sparsely furnished, but pleasant. The elderly woman who answered the door remained silent, but before Franko could call out there was a movement in the next room.
Eleven years was always going to make a difference, but Hercules wasn't prepared for what Hera had done to Hippolyta. The silver-haired, middle-aged woman standing before him with the same bearing as the woman he loved, had the same flashing eyes. However the once exquisite face was marred by a diagonal scar that reached from temple to chin, and her hands were gnarled and crippled into talons.
"Hippolyta..."
"Have we met?" she asked quietly.
"In another lifetime," he whispered.
She heard, but neither asked for nor seemed to need an explanation.
"Come Franko, bring your friends to the table. Delia, drinks for everyone," she announced, her mood suddenly shifting to cheerful friendliness. Then she cocked a brow at Hercules. "...Hercules, Franko? You have impressive friends."
"Hercules agreed to help Gargarensia fight the monster. He came of his own free will," the youth replied defensively.
Hercules met the dark eyes he'd once loved so dearly and somehow found his voice. "I asked Franko to bring me here, because I believe Hera is behind the attacks on Gargarensia," he revealed with careful deliberation. "I have to know what happened after the women decided to come back here. What did Hera do? Did she make any threats against you?"
For a long, fathomless moment she stared into his eyes. Finally, she spoke.
"Oh, yes." Her eyes clouded over. "She was enraged. She wanted me to kill everyone, everything in Gargarensia, even the babies ...even the animals. I was to leave nothing standing, even if I had to do it alone." A tear trickled down one cheek. "And when I was finished I was to take any Amazon still with me," her brow furrowed, "and hunt down Hercules..."
"But you didn't..?" Hercules prompted when her thoughts seemed to drift.
Hippolyta shook her mane of silver hair slowly. "I loved my women, the girls, the children. I couldn't hurt them, I couldn't take away the happiness they found. I didn't understand it at first, but when I saw them, listened to them, after their first full night in Gargarensia something made sense. There finally seemed to be balance in all their lives. But Hera seemed to descend into a rage that went far beyond their simple defiance." She drew a jagged breath. "It was as though she was venting some profound rage that had nothing to do with them, through her revenge on me." She shrugged. "She didn't care to kill me for my disobedience, as though I wasn't important enough to bother with at the time, but," she indicated her face and hair, "she gave me this," then held up her hands, "and these, before she finally seemed to disappear from my life."
Hercules' face was a mask of pain. "Hera doesn't care for beautiful women," he said gently.
Hippolyta had become transfixed by his eyes. He allowed his gaze to be held for as long as she wanted to hold it.
"She has hurt you," she said finally.
Hercules drew a sharp breath, then nodded slightly, amazed at how strong his feelings for her still were. "And now she's here, in Gargarensia, hurting more people. Do you have any idea what might have caused her to look Gargarensia's way again?"
Hippolyta's gaze slid toward Franko.
"I told him everything--about the famine, Hera's price... everything," Franko explained hastily.
"That's right, he did," Hercules agreed, "but what you people don't seem to realize is that Hera probably caused the famine in the first place." He found and held Hippolyta's eyes again. "The Gods enjoy playing games with Human beings--Cause the famine to make you desperate, extract promises, then watch you squirm when they come, at their leisure, to collect."
Hippolyta sighed. "But why should Hera still hate us so much? She had her revenge on me, and she hasn't bothered with Gargarensia for a decade or more. Why now? And why us?"
Hercules felt an almost overwhelming urge to touch her hand, to tell her everything. The memory of his father almost refusing to reverse time, almost letting Hippolyta and Iolaus stay dead, blotted it out just as suddenly.
And just as suddenly he knew he'd made a mistake in coming. Again. All this town's suffering, all of it, was for his benefit, so that Hera could extract her petty revenge, and perhaps even make him watch Hippolyta die all over again, now that Daenaira and the kids were gone; now that fate had taken even Serena from him...
"Damn!" he exploded, before he could bite it back.
Iolaus sat up. "What?"
"Nothing," he rasped. "But we'll have to spend another night in the forest."
"Oh great," the smaller man muttered.
"But why?" Hippolyta and Franko asked almost in unison.
Hercules didn't look up from his focus on the pattern of the tablecloth. "Because I think I know now why Hera is doing this," he said wretchedly.
"You do?" asked Iolaus, a puzzled look on his face.
"I do," he replied. "I've been here before. And...it pretty much upset Hera at the time."
Hippolyta focused on the bent head. "I have no memory of you ever being in Gargarensia."
"No, you wouldn't," Hercules said without thinking. "That is, it was while you were still Queen of the Amazons," he corrected hastily.
Hippolyta's eyes narrowed, but she didn't push the issue further. She was already having too many tumultuous thoughts and feelings, all of which had to be sorted out.
It was more than the dread of Hera's return, or her fear for the village; there was a strange, dizzying sense of unreality about sitting there talking to this man. More: there were the things the sight, the sound of him were doing to her mind and body. From the gleam of his tawny-gold hair in the light coming through the window, to the bend of his head, and the breadth of his shoulder, Hippolyta found herself electrified by him.
"You never mentioned coming here to me," Iolaus chimed in, having no such problem.
"Well, it was a long time ago, and since when do I tell you everything I do?" Hercules almost snapped, making Iolaus sit back suddenly in surprise.
"I..I'm sorry," he rushed on. "It's just...I can't believe Hera's making these people suffer again just to get to me, that's all."
Iolaus subsided. That, he understood. He frowned. Except for the 'again' part. "Don't worry about it. You'll think of something. You always do," he told his friend. "But why the forest? We could just leave. Maybe Hera would give it up if we go home?"
Hercules shook his head. "I wish it were that easy, but that's not how she operates. I have to kill the beast. She won't stop killing people with it until I do. After that I have to deal with Shanna. I don't know how yet, but I'll find a way."
"Shanna?" Hippolyta asked Franko. "Lysia's daughter?"
Hercules' eyes widened in surprise. "Shanna is a real person?"
Franko swallowed. "I was going to tell you, but you said it was Hera before I could. I thought Hera must have done something to Shanna--made her a prisoner or something. And then--"
"It doesn't matter," Hercules cut in impatiently. She's a prisoner all right. In her own body. Hera is using it for her own ends."
"So what are we going to do about it?"
Hercules turned to Iolaus. "How do I know?" he demanded. "What do you think Hera would do to Shanna if we tried to free her?"
Iolaus shrugged. "Give up and run?"
Hercules rolled his eyes. "She would probably kill her."
Iolaus sobered. "You sound like you know something. I don't remember us being involved with anyone possessed by your stepmother before--"
"We haven't," Hercules told him tersely. "I know her. I know what she would do. I know what she's done..."
Hippolyta watched the blue eyes cloud over and the striking face close up. She wondered what could have hurt him so profoundly.
Iolaus nodded. "Unfortunately, the question remains," he pointed out.
"I don't know," Hercules finally admitted. "I just don't know. Maybe when the beast is dead, I'll know."
"The beast? You're not still going to make me go back to the forest tonight?"
Hercules gave him a long-suffering look. "If it helps any, we wont be sleeping this time."
"Oh...joy..." Iolaus drawled. "What are we going to be doing? Patrolling the perimeter of the village?"
"Something like that."
Something seemed to occur to Iolaus. "Oh no-no-no," he shook his head, his hands raised in front of him. "Bait is what you put on a fishhook, not--"
Hercules sighed, drew his full length from his chair and lifted Iolaus by the collar. "C'mon braveheart, we've got things to do. And thank you," he added, turning briefly and acknowledging his hostess before addressing the boy. "Franko, we'll find you if we need you..."