Young Hercules (Novelization) Transcript

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Young Hercules (Novelization)

Young Hercules
A novelization by Mel Odom.
Based on the teleplay by Andrew Dettman & Daniel Truly.
Story by Rob Tapert and Andrew Dettman & Daniel Truly.

Chapter One

      Hercules hooked his fingertips over the thin lip of rock above him and pulled himself up a little farther. During the last hundred feet, the climb up the mountain had been a matter of inches. Wind blew over him, cooling him as he sweated from his struggle. His arms, back, and legs ached from the strain. Anyone normal, he knew, would have given up a long time ago. But he wasn't normal. He was the son of Zeus, a half-god, and he had things to prove.

      He found a toehold and shoved his boot against it, pushing himself up another few inches. He pulled with his fingers again. The rock crumbled under his fingertips, and he started to fall.

      And me without the wings of Icarus!

      Frantically, Hercules swung for another grip. He slid his fingers into a narrow fissure on the mountain's face. The rough stone bit into his flesh, but he hoped it would hold.

      C'mon, c'mon!

      The fissure held, even though a cascade of small pebbles tumbled over him. His feet slipped. Now he was dangling from one arm. The coiled rope on his shoulder brushed against his cheek, and the backpack slammed against his spine. He took a deep breath and, without thinking, looked down. His stomach rolled.

      Big mistake, he realized. Looking down is always a big mistake.

      The highest trees of the forest were hundreds of feet down now. Birds flew well below him. Hercules grinned, remembering that no one from his village had ever climbed the mountain because it was so dangerous. That alone might have interested him in the climb at some point. But today he was here for another reason.

      Hercules took a deep breath and looked back up. Okay, no more looking down. He scanned the harsh rock for another handhold above him and found it. He hooked his fingers into it and started up again.

      Finally, after long moments and summoning patience he usually didn't have, Hercules reached the top of the cliff. He caught his breath, then walked to the ragged edge and peered over. Up where he stood, Hercules felt he was more on an equal footing with the sky than with the forest far below.

      Man, that's a lot farther down than it looked up from below, he thought. When he had looked up at the mountain, he'd been concerned, wondering if he could manage the climb. Now the distance seemed even more impossible.

      But, by the gods, it's going to make a great story, isn't it? Hercules grinned and stretched his fingers, working the kinks out of them.

      He walked to the other side of the mountain. The drop raced down a surface that was almost as straight as a stone mason's ax cut. No one, not even he with his incredible strength, could climb down that. But that was where he had to go. That was where the legends said the cave would be.

      A silvery glimmer of the river that ran through the mountain snaked between the trees and bushes below. The legends had all agreed that the river sprang from the Cave of Ares. The cave cut into the base of the mountain on this side, and no human had ever entered it.

      No human or half-human. But that's going to change today. Hercules grinned. Getting into the cave was only part of the challenge that had brought him here.

      He'd first learned about the cave from a traveling merchant who had come to the village bazaar nearly a month ago. Local legend labeled the cave as forbidden to mortals, a place where the god of war had stashed fortunes and trophies he'd taken in battle.

      Hercules had come to the mountain seeking one of those: an urn that had reportedly belonged to Zeus. My father. He'd found mention of it in the temple documents he'd searched after hearing the story. Ares hadn't taken all of his trophies fairly, and Hercules felt certain the urn had been one of those. No way could he let Ares take something from Zeus. Hercules had decided to journey to the cave to get the urn. Hercules intended to give it back to one of the priests at the temple of Zeus.

      Okay, time to get this done. It's not going to get any easier, and erosion takes too long.

      Hercules dropped the heavy coil of rope from his shoulder. Carrying the rope up the cliff had been hard, but getting to the cave below was impossible without it. Sweat from his earlier exertions covered him. His leg and back muscles quivered with fatigue. But excitement filled him.

      At eighteen years old, Hercules stood tall and lean, but he still had his full growth ahead of him. His skin was bronze from the summer sun, and his hair blond. He wore a sleeveless leather shirt and leather pants, and leather bracers covered his forearms from his wrists nearly to his elbow. Old Chadduz the cobbler had made his knee-high boots, a gift from his mother on his last birthday.

      Working quickly, growing more excited about the adventure, Hercules tied one end of the rope around a thick tree. Then he wrapped a piece of blanket around his ankles and tied the other end of the rope over it. He let out a breath and threw the rope's slack into the yawning abyss, then watched as it unfurled to its full length.

      Breathing evenly, trying to relax, Hercules inched to the cliff's edge. The wind plucked at him with breezy talons, blowing hard enough to almost knock him off balance. He stood his ground and gazed down at the leafy canopy. He'd carefully measured the rope, but he didn't know if it was the right length.

      At least, not until after I take this jump.

      The rope trick was something he'd learned from a traveling acrobat troupe that had come through the village after the spring rains had passed. If he had measured the distance properly and if the rope held, he thought the jump would work. Of course, he wouldn't know for sure until he did it.

      He reached over his shoulder and took the oil-soaked torch from the pouch on his back. He slammed the torch head against the rock shelf at his feet. Sparks flared, then fire wreathed the head of the torch.

      Holding the torch tightly, Hercules leaped, throwing himself out from the cliff and falling headfirst in a swan dive. He fell so fast the wind ripped through his hair, but the flame stubbornly clung to the torch.

      He plummeted and spotted the silvery gleam of the river below. The ground came up quickly. At the bottom of the river he saw broken and scorched skeletons lying scattered in all directions, like toys abandoned by a careless child.

      Hercules kept falling, his eyes drawn to the empty sockets of a skull lying face up. How long does it take to become a skeleton in those waters? He really didn't want to know, but the thought filled his mind. He waved his arms, trying to stay in control of the dive. Too much flailing, though, and he'd smack into the mountainside and maybe rip himself to shreds. Small pieces probably reduce to bone even faster. The crackle of the torch's flame struggling to stay lit popped in his ears. He saw his image reflected in the River of Skulls, growing larger and larger, and for a moment he didn't think he was going to stop, thought maybe he'd measured the rope too long and he was going to plunge right into that deadly river.

      Then the rope snugged tight, pulling his ankles together hard enough to hurt even through the padding of the blanket. Briefly, he thought his legs had pulled from their sockets. His sudden stop only inches above the river's surface also made him lose his grip on the torch.

      The flaming brand dropped into the river. A small, fiery explosion puffed up when it touched the water. Hercules already knew the water held a strong acid. That explained how the bones of the dead had acquired their burned, crusty look.

      Now, that'll keep out the tourists, Hercules thought. He ignored the loss of the torch and twisted his body until he could see into the mouth of the cave at the base of the mountain. The entrance was more than ten feet high, and forbidding looking. Weak yellow light came from inside, intriguing him even further, but darkness swallowed the distance. Hercules' sense of adventure flared, overcoming his wariness of the acidic water. He was so near the prize he'd come to claim.

      Slogging through the River of Skulls wasn't a good plan, he knew. Even if he didn't get killed, he'd be badly burned and in no shape to climb back up the rope. Hanging upside down, Hercules glanced at the jagged edges of the cave's mouth, then started swinging.

      When he swung high enough toward the cave, he jammed his fingers against the nearest ragged edge of rock, scrabbling for a hold. Pebbles and rock chips flew, tumbling into the River of Skulls. Hisses and smoke boiled up from the rocks as moss burned away from them.

      Hercules swung again, feeling the rope slip just a little. He thought about the way the swinging was rubbing the rope against the rock above. Not good. He flailed again and managed to lock his fingers on a rough ridge above the cave mouth. He reached back with his free hand and untied the rope from his ankles. Holding onto the ridge, he dropped, twisting to land on his feet with a thump that echoed into the throat of the cave.

      The rope drifted back to hang over the river of burned bones.

      Cautiously, Hercules walked into the cave, drawn by the weak, flickering light. The cave was damp and cool, and it smelled like old death. His nose wrinkled in disgust, but he kept moving. Even walking quietly, he heard his steps echo.

      He followed the twists and turns of the cave's tunnel. Ahead of him flaming torches sat on top of carved stone columns lining both walls of the tunnel. The floor was littered with decaying skeletons.

      Halting, Hercules studied the burning torches. They stood at shoulder height to him, the flames wavering in the small breeze wafting through the cave. He knew they weren't normal torches. Normal torches would need replacing. Hercules didn't think Ares trusted anyone to take care of the torches.

      Hercules looked back the way he'd come. Only his footprints marred the dust that covered the smooth stones of the floor. No one had been through the tunnel in years.

      Crouching, he gathered a handful of dust and looked at the torches again. He knew that the gods didn't leave their trophies and personal belongings unguarded.

      Hercules blew gently on the dust in his hand, guiding a cloud of it between the first pair of stone columns. When the dust gusted between the columns it revealed lines of light burning between them. Hercules knew the lights had to be trip wires for whatever trap lay just ahead.

      He stood, then swung his fist through one of the lights. Immediately, a jet of flame leaped from the stone column, blossoming into a fireball three times the size of his head. Flames shot from the other columns as well, spraying again and again. The heat washed over him, hot enough to sear.

      That's not good. Hercules glanced around. He didn't intend to give up now. The flame jets had a rhythm between blazes. All he had to do was find a way through them.

      The bright flames ripped away the shadows near him, revealing discarded weapons and armor on the floor. A rectangular shield drew his eye.

      He picked up the shield and shook it free of dirt and grit. The arm straps looked strong enough and the padding behind the shield face looked thick enough to block some of the heat.

      If that doesn't work - fssst! Flash-fried to a crackly crunch.

      Picking up the shield in both hands, Hercules counted down the timing of the fiery bursts. When he was ready, he moved forward with all his speed and lifted the shield to block the jet of flame. Fire struck the shield, curling over the sides. None of it touched him.

      He took another step and whirled, getting the shield up just in time to keep from getting crisped by the second stone column. There was no time to think as he moved on to the third column, and the whirling dance with death continued.

      He kept moving, losing count of how many times he blocked the flames. The shield grew steadily hotter in his grip. He didn't get the shield up quite in time on the next one, and his hand got singed. He stopped the impulse to dodge away too quickly and concentrated on regaining the rhythm.

      Covered with sweat and breathing hard, he burst free of the last stone column. Gratefully, he tossed the overheated shield to the stone floor.

      Should have brought marshmallows, he told himself. He meant the thought to bolster his own courage, but it didn't help as much as he'd hoped. He took a deep breath of the cool air. The flames continued to blaze brightly behind him as he stepped deeper into the tunnel. No matter what lay ahead, he wasn't turning back.

~*~

      The sky burned red and orange over the battlefield where men and horses lay dying. Smashed battle chariots added to the carnage. Carrion birds had gathered, gliding patiently on the slow winds above.

      Ares looked out over the scene in satisfaction. Despite having taken part in the battle himself, he still looked fresh. It was one of the perks of being the god of war.

      He sat astride a heavy warhorse, watching as soldiers under his control chained a few pitiful moaning survivors to the wheels of overturned war chariots. It's always good to have a few prisoners left over to torture, Ares thought. A cruel smile touched his lips. He was tall, broad across the chest, every inch a warrior born. His hair was thick and black, and a neatly trimmed beard set off the high planes of his rough-hewn face. His creased leather armor had seen years of hard use.

      The captured men groaned in pain as Ares' warriors secured them to the chariot wheels, and the sound was music to Ares' ears. Being a god meant making mortals suffer. Otherwise, where was the fun of godhood?

      A horse's hooves clomping against the hard-packed earth of the battlefield being him drew his attention. He turned to look at the rider.

      She wore studded leather armor and heavy pants. Her long black hair trailed down her back, and excitement flushed her beautiful face.

      Ares returned her smile, then looked past her at the city of Corinth. Black smoke curled up from the city. Some of the battle had spilled over its walls before he'd marshaled his army and shoved the opposing forces back again. The damage left broken men, chariots, and structures scattered across the ground. Corinth and its king had become one of his pet projects, something to while away the boredom that was the curse of immortality.

      "Discord," Ares called out in greeting. "How's King Aeson doing?"

      "He grows weaker and weaker," Discord replied. A pleading note entered her voice. "Let me finish him off, Ares. Please. I haven't killed a monarch in centuries."

      Ares shook his head, amused by her wheedling. "No, sister. We need him alive a tad longer." He pointed to one of the men chained to a chariot wheel. "Care to spin a wheel?"

      Discord frowned, showing her disappointment. "Maybe later. There's other news - about our half brother Hercules."

      Ares glanced at her sharply. Hercules had been a sore point for a long time. "Father's half-mortal mistake? Haven't given him a thought in years. Still in diapers? Playing in his sandbox?"

      Discord's malicious grin told him she didn't buy his lack of interest. They knew each other too well for that. "He plays in your temple, even as we speak."

      Ares didn't ask how his sister got her information. She was always snooping somewhere, hatching schemes of her own. Most people couldn't hide things from her. He remained calm. "Hmmm. He's probably after that urn I stole from Zeus. The little runt is trying to score points with Dad." It was the only thing among all the valuables Ares had that might capture Hercules' attention.

      "He's not so little these days," Discord replied with a taunt in her voice. "He's eighteen now. Tall, exceptionally strong, and quite handsome." She licked her lips in anticipation. "Let me go rip his face off."

      Ares shook his head, drawing a small dagger and twirling it idly in his fingers. "No need. He can enter the cave, but he'll never exit. Remember - I designed it!"

Chapter Two

      Hercules stared at the treasures scattered around the main chamber of the cave. Light from torches cut through the darkness. A king's ransom sat everywhere he looked. He'd never seen anything like it.

      Now, that's what I call a treasure trove!

      Gold and silver statues and figurines, as well as ingots and coins, poured across the floor. Precious gems shone bloodred, deep sea blue, tiger's-eye green, and amber yellow. Crowns and scepters in dozens of different shapes were casually tossed about.

      Ares obviously doesn't care much about the trophies he's collected, Hercules thought. Looks like he doesn't even visit. All that matters to him is acquiring them. As Hercules looked at them, he wondered how many battles, wars, and lives the treasures represented.

      Hercules walked into the room cautiously, looking for any further traps. Ares had kept the journey to the main chamber interesting, and if Hercules had been slower or weaker, he'd have been dead already. A mortal man would have died in minutes. But then, a mortal man wouldn't have trespassed in Ares' temple. Hercules grinned, enjoying his triumph.

      Hercules felt pretty good about defeating his half-brother's traps. Not only had Zeus spurned Hercules, but none of his half brothers of half sisters from Mount Olympus had shown an interest in him either. Well, Zeus is going to have to acknowledge me when I return the urn to his temple. Nobody else has bothered to try to return it.

      Smoke from the torches curled up and pooled against the ceiling. Hercules walked on into the room, past mounds of gold and silver. As he looked at the amount of treasure the cave contained, he got worried. Finding Zeus's urn in the middle of all the confusion was going to be a lot harder than he'd thought.

      Then a sparkle of dark green and silver attracted his attention. He turned toward it, spotting an urn placed in a position of importance on top of an altar.

      He walked past ivory tusks and a collection of gold bowls and pitchers to stand in front of the urn. The altar the urn sat on caught the light. Hercules looked up from the urn to the huge snake head at the top of the altar. The white marble snake looked fierce and evil. Only its head and part of its neck were visible; the rest of it lay hidden behind the wall.

      The altar was creepy, but Hercules forced himself forward. He stared at the urn, seeing through the dark green glass. Another snake was rendered in the bright silver of the urn's cap. The hooded snake was poised, ready to strike.

      Standing in front of the urn within easy arm's reach, Hercules laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. He smiled and told himself, Zeus has to notice me now. I'm going to be the one to return the urn to him.

      He reached for the urn. The glass felt cool and smooth. He lifted it from the wrought-iron perch that held it and gazed more deeply into its depths. He saw nothing at all and couldn't imagine why Zeus would want something like it.

      Was the urn always empty? The temple records had mentioned that the urn held something but hadn't said what.

      Breathing a sigh of relief, Hercules turned and retraced his steps. Guess I beat Ares' security system. He grinned, then lost the grin when a low hissing noise came from behind him.

      Slowly, he turned to face the altar.

      The snake's huge eyes burned with ruby fire. The black tongue lunged out, stopping only inches short of Hercules. In the next heartbeat, the snake broke free of the marble skin that encased it. The creature rose up tall, nearly to the top of the huge cavern. Hisses echoed all over the treasure vault.

      That's a big snake, Hercules thought.

      With the sound of scales shushing over stone, the snake sped free of the wall, striking at Hercules. Its mouth gaped open wide enough to swallow him, and there were plenty of fangs to help him go down easier.

      Oh, man! Hercules jumped to one side, barely avoiding the snake. He clapped a hand on top of the urn, holding it shut. Even though it looked empty, he didn't want the urn's lid to come off. There was no telling what Zeus might have stored inside the urn that mortal eyes couldn't see. Or even half-mortal ones.

      Landing on his side from the jump, Hercules rolled to his feet as the snake went past. He didn't know if the guardian creature was twenty, thirty, or forty feet long, but it was easily the biggest thing he'd ever seen. He took out a black cloth pouch from the backpack, stuffed the urn inside the pouch, and pulled the drawstrings tight.

      The snake coiled around, knocking over treasures and scattering gold and silver coins in all directions. It set its sights on its prey, then struck again.

      Hercules turned and ran. A hollow boom thundered through the room. He thought at first the snake had knocked something over. Then he noticed a stone door had slammed shut on the corridor he'd come through. He looked around the room, spotting three other doors.

      Okay, Door Number One, Door Number Two, or Door Number Three?

      All the doors were closing in rapid succession.

      Throwing himself to the left, Hercules avoided the snake again, then ran for the door that was still most open. Halfway closed already, the door continued closing quickly. In desperation, Hercules threw himself down and forward.

      The dust coating the stone floor made it as slick as he'd hoped, allowing him to glide across the surface as thought it was ice. He skidded under the door, flattening himself. He gripped the bag with the urn tightly, watching the closing door miss him by inches as he slid under.

      Before the door closed completely, Hercules saw the snake stop short. Its black eyes stared at him, dark hunger gleaming in their depths.

      Reading the menu?

      Then the door thumped closed.

      Breathing a sigh of relief, Hercules looked at the stone door and smiled. Well, it'll bash out what little brains it has before it gets through there. That's gotta hurt.

      Confident, he started to get to his feet - then froze as a huge spiked metal ball swung at him out of the shadows covering the opposite wall. He had no time to move. Instinctively, he released the bag and put his hands out in front of him. He narrowly missed getting sliced and diced by the razor-edged spikes on the ball as he caught it.

      But that would have hurt even more than banging your head against a wall, Hercules told himself. He pushed the iron ball back, and it slammed into the wall, burying the spikes and sticking there.

      Shoving himself to his feet, he grabbed the bag. A flight of stairs led up, and he figured anything up was good. He ran, listening to the snake thud against the door again and again.

      Oops! He spotted the trip switch at the top of the staircase too late to stop. The steps folded, lying flat and creating a slide. Off balance, Hercules rolled and tumbled to the foot of the staircase.

      Dazed, he shook himself and got to his feet again. He noticed that the snake's next thud took longer to happen than the last. It's almost knocked itself out, he thought. That's gotta be it. Right?

      Then it came again, the thump immediately sounded different, followed by the crack of mortar and the crash of falling stone. Or maybe it was just getting a better swing.

      Hercules looked back and saw the snake crashing through. The creature smashed into his chest, knocking him back into the stairs. He hit the stairs hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Before he could move, the stair steps righted themselves, becoming a stairway again.

      Move! Move!

      The snake drew back to strike again. As its head came forward, Hercules slammed the bag into the side of the snake's head. He figured anything belonging to Zeus could handle one small - okay, big - snake. He swung the urn against the snake's jaw again, putting all his strength into it.

      The snake took a second to recover while Hercules got to his feet. Cocking his head to one side, the snake fixed him with its hateful glare. It hissed and opened its fanged mouth.

      Man, I've seen smaller doorways!

      Before it could strike again, Hercules sprinted up the staircase. At the top, he dashed to the right, following the corridor. He heard the snake's scales scraping against the floor in hot pursuit.

      Rocks and skeletons littered the stone floor, but Hercules avoided them with the grace of a deer, running and jumping for all he was worth. The snake started closing the distance, its hissing growing louder in his ears.

      Hercules spotted the spiked poles on the side of the corridor ahead of him and sprinted harder. The poles came free of the wall behind him, swinging toward each other. If he'd walked through the area, he'd have gotten spiked. He knew the snake was too long to avoid them.

      Movement in the corner of his eye warned him as two blades swung free of the roof overhead. He stopped, watching as the two razor-edged glimmers of steel scissored together in front of him with a metallic whisper.

      He turned back to the snake. Now it was writhing between the two spike-filled poles.

      "Guess you aren't very bright after all," Hercules told it.

      The snake hissed angrily and broke free of the poles. the spikes stayed buried in its neck as it slid forward.

      Timing the swinging blades, Hercules dashed through, then turned and faced the snake. It struck, not paying attention to the blades. The razored edges swung again and neatly lopped off the snake's head.

      Heads do roll, he thought as he watched.

      Green snake blood splashed across the front of Hercules' shirt and chin.

      He tried to brush the green blood from his face and clothing, but it was too sticky. Now, that's attractive.

      A rumble sounded overhead. He looked up in time to see the first of the rocks tumbling free of the roof. By the time he started running again, the whole cavern was collapsing.

      He ran, following the corridor. He didn't get hopeful about his escape till he saw light up ahead. when he spotted the rope hanging out over the River of Skulls, he grinned again. He couldn't reach the rope, so he jumped for it, grabbing it and starting up at once. He laughed, not minding the blood on his shirt at all.

~*~

      Iolaus gazed around the bazaar, thrilled at all the prospects for adventure before him. Adventure and profit, Iolaus reminded himself. He passed through the crowds with purpose, his target already chosen and his plan already in place.

      His brown hair fell to his shoulders in curls a number of girls had found attractive. His blue eyes held the light of laughter, but he kept his handsome face from showing it. His clothes were rough leather, the best he was able to afford, and he wore a loose-fitting shirt over his vest. He knew his appearance set many of the merchants' teeth on edge. They knew trouble when they saw it.

      Iolaus walked with an easy gait, listening to the voices of the hawkers calling out their wares. Carts with fruits and vegetables sat beside folding panels with clothing hanging from them. Cages of chickens sat next to staked goats. Farmers sold milk straight from the cow.

      The villagers milled through the offered goods, making selections and haggling over the prices. Squeals of excited children ripped through the frenzied conversations and the animal noises.

      Iolaus looked through the crowd, spotting Occam matching his stride twenty feet away in another aisle. Occam was taller and heavier even though he was still in his teen years, someone most people would fear at a glance. He had the wide-eyed face of an ox and the brute shoulders of one. He grimaced at Iolaus.

      A grin touched Iolaus' lips, but he erased it quickly. It was a good day to be young and free. And nimble-fingered.

      He altered his course for the jeweler's booth he'd selected. Stopping in front of the booth, he glanced at the bowls containing rings and bracelets. Other containers held gems of many different colors and spools of silver ready for beating into jewelry or decoration.

      The fat jeweler stood behind the booth and watched Iolaus suspiciously. The pockmarks and scars lining the left side of the jeweler's face made his expression severe. "Don't stand too close, boy," he growled. "This booth is for customers with coins in their purses."

      Iolaus nodded good-naturedly and acted as if he was going to walk away.

      Before he took a single step, Occam burst through the crowd. He held a wickedly curved knife raised in one hand and screamed at the top of his voice. He grabbed Iolaus' shirt front, almost yanking him off his feet.

      Occam plunged the knife into Iolaus' chest. The young thief grabbed his chest. Blood exploded and ran down his fingers. Occam pulled his crimson-smeared blade back and shoved Iolaus toward the jeweler's booth.

      Iolaus hit the booth, struggling for a moment. Then he went deathly limp.

      Occam ran off through the crowd.

      "Help!" the fat jeweler screamed. "Help! Get the doctor!" He picked Iolaus' head up by the hair and gazed into his face.

      Iolaus was dead weight.

Chapter Three

      In the marketplace, the jeweler screamed over his shoulder. "Get the undertaker! Never mind, I'll get him myself! He's bleeding all over my jewels! All over my cart!"

      Iolaus couldn't help himself. The situation was just too funny. As soon as the fat jeweler ran off squawking to get the undertaker, the young thief burst out laughing.

      The laughter alerted the jeweler, and the man turned back around with a shocked expression.

      Quick as he could, Iolaus snatched up handfuls of gems and jewelry, stuffing them into the pouch belted at his waist. The jeweler's expression changed from shock to outrage.

      "Stop!" the jeweler screamed, pointing. "Stop him! My boss will kill me!"

      Iolaus ran, pushing his way through the puzzled crowd. Two other boys in the area took off running at the same time. They shoved into people and booths, creating even more confusion.

      The jeweler continued to yell for help, but Iolaus noticed the man didn't hesitate to help himself to some of the gems and baubles. The guy was robbing his own boss, and Iolaus knew the blame would be placed on him. The merchant's fat hands seized everything they could in darting movements that showed years of practice.

      Man, thieves are everywhere, Iolaus lamented. He ran hard, knowing the peace officers would be along at any minute. They always proved much harder to avoid than greedy sellers.

      The young thief pounded through the twists and turns of the bazaar aisles. He'd mapped his escape route early that morning after the bulk of the vendors had set up for the day's business. For the most part the merchants set up in the same spots they always did. That made Iolaus' memory work simple.

      Despite all of his running, Iolaus still wasn't out of breath by the time he reached the rug seller's stall. He ducked quickly under the rugs hanging on display and plunged out of sight. Occam and the others were waiting inside.

      "That's the last time I use a pig's bladder," Iolaus declared. He pulled the blood-filled organ out of his shirt and threw it onto the ground. Occam's knife had sliced a hole in it when he'd stabbed him. The peace officers were already searching the bazaar. Iolaus heard their shouts as he divided the loot quickly. He was as far about it as he thought was necessary.

      Occam looked at his share. "A handful for each of us and a bagful for you? How is that fair, Iolaus?"

      Iolaus gave him one of his best shocked expressions. "Hey, I died for this stuff."

      Occam seemed on the verge of continuing the argument, but the sound of excited voices interrupted him. At first Iolaus thought the peace officers had already discovered their hiding place. He peered through the overlapping rugs.

      A knot of villagers careened through the bazaar, circling something.

      Iolaus stripped off his bloody shirt and dropped it to the ground. After checking to make sure the blood hadn't soaked into the vest underneath, he stepped back out into the bazaar to watch the crowd.

      He strained to see what was going on, glimpsing Hercules in their midst. Irritation stung Iolaus. Hercules was no better than him, yet the other boy rarely hung out with Iolaus or his friends.

      The young thief went forward, hoping that Hercules was in some kind of trouble.

~*~

      Attracted by the hubbub of voices, Alcmene paused in her haggling with a vegetable vendor. She was a beautiful woman, dressed in her best garments, and had her dark hair pulled back. The tomatoes the vendor was selling looked really good, but the price the man was asking even at this time of the season was outrageous.

      When she stepped away from the crowded booth to get a better look, a fat merchant with a pockmarked face almost ran her down. "What's going on?" she asked.

      "I was robbed today!" the merchant shrilled. "The thief got half of my goods!

      Alcmene sympathized with the man, but thefts happened regularly in the bazaar. "No," she said, ignoring the merchant's complaints and pointing toward the group of people moving through the bazaar, "I mean over there."

      The merchant paused in shoving jewelry into his coat sleeves, something Alcmene considered definitely suspicious. "Some kid stole something from the cave of Ares," he said. He shook his head in disapproval.

      Fear surged immediately through Alcmene, followed by a flicker of pride she felt guilty about. She knew only one kid in the whole village foolish enough - and brave enough - to attempt such a feat.

      "Hercules!" she said, and moved toward the crowd.

~*~

      Iolaus heard Alcmene's voice and watched her push through the crowd surrounding Hercules. The young thief smiled. Maybe I'm going to have a better day than I thought. It wasn’t often that goody-two-shoes Hercules got busted for doing something wrong. Iolaus couldn't imagine what it could be. But I definitely want to be there to see Hercules get what's coming to him.

      "Iolaus," Occam persisted.

      Iolaus dropped his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Later." He jogged toward the crowd, waiting to see the fireworks.

~*~

      Despite all the attention he was getting from the crowd around him, Hercules felt awkward. Normally he tried to stay out of the limelight. His mother had told him to remain quiet about his birthright and not to demonstrate any of the strength he was only now growing into.

      Still, it was hard not to enjoy the attention. I am the son of a god, after all. He brandished the urn with pride, trying to answer the flood of questions.

      Then his mother's voice blotted out all others. she stepped from the crowd and grabbed him by the arm. "Hercules, you stole from a god?"

      Hercules flushed, feeling guilty and angry all at the same time. "It doesn't belong to Ares. He stole it from Zeus."

      "Don't worry. I'll put it back."

      Hercules turned to face the new speaker, recognizing Iolaus at once. The young thief seized Zeus's urn in both hands. Closing his fist on the urn, Hercules prevented Iolaus from snatching it away, but Iolaus' efforts knocked the top off.

      A glowing energy ball erupted from the mouth of the urn, leaping skyward. The crowd fled the area at once, screaming in fear as supernatural winds sprang up.

      "Oops," Iolaus said.

      The force ripped the urn from even Hercules' grip. He watched it fall to the ground, not believing the destruction that was taking place around him. He put an arm around his mother and hurried her out of harm's way, keeping her on the ground despite the pull of the winds.

      The winds gathered speed and strength, becoming a full-fledged twister. The winds ripped into the stalls and booths, overturned carts and blew them away. Carpets, baskets, and clothing sailed through the air, followed by tents and even small chickens, ducks, and goats.

      Caught near the eye of the twister and not possessing Hercules' strength, Iolaus was lifted off his feet. The twister yanked him upward and toward the eye. Frantically, he grabbed a nearby hitching rail and held on. But the strain he was under showed he couldn't last long.

      Hercules guided his mother to a pole and held her safe.

      Alcmene stared, horrified, at Iolaus. "Hercules," she pleaded, "do something! Save Iolaus!"

      Hercules felt angry with the young thief. Iolaus was the one who'd spoiled his moment of triumph and his chance to claim Zeus's attention. "That petty thief?"

      "Please!"

      Hercules resisted a moment more, but he couldn't ignore his mother's plea. After making sure his mother had a secure grip on the pole and would be safe, Hercules sprinted for the hitching rail. Before he got there, Iolaus lost his grip, spinning up into the sky. He rose as high as the stone buildings ringing the bazaar.

      Thinking quickly, Hercules shrugged the rope off his shoulder. He knotted one end around the hitching rail and the other around his waist, watching Iolaus rise higher in the sky.

      Hercules leaped into the twister's pull, reaching for the young thief. He flailed his arms, barely keeping his balance. "Give me your hand, Iolaus!" he yelled, reaching for the young thief.

      Iolaus reached back, but the surging wind kept them apart by inches.

      Hercules kicked out, forcing himself toward Iolaus, and finally succeeded in grabbing his wrist. Iolaus wrapped his own fingers around Hercules' wrist.

      "Hercules," Iolaus said. "What are you doing up here?"

      The wind snapped them around like puppets at the end of a string. Only, this particular string was attached to a hitching post that was starting to wriggle free of the ground.

      "Hercules," Alcmene yelled, "get down now!"

      "You heard your mom," Iolaus said.

      Whipping his body against the winds, Hercules swam toward the twister's outer edge. He hoped he could break free of the whirling winds with his great strength. He reached the edge of the twister just as the hitching post pulled free of the ground. With a final kick, he pulled Iolaus from the twister as well. they fell.

      Iolaus screamed the whole way down, till he landed hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

      Hercules groaned. Now, that hurt. He ached all over from his adventures in Ares' temple and now the twister. He sat up with effort.

      The twister's eye exploded overhead. Rainbow sparkles filled the sky, and a crash of thunder rolled over the bazaar.

      Two peace officers shoved their way through the angry crowd milling through the wreckage, trying to find their goods. The peace officers seized Iolaus by his arms. Iolaus fought briefly but couldn't get away.

      Hercules watched, confused. Maybe they think he's responsible for the twister. He started to explain that it was his fault. He should have been more protective of Zeus's urn.

      Before he could say anything, a fat merchant with a pockmarked face joined the peace officers and pointed at Iolaus accusingly. "That's him! He took everything I had!"

      Iolaus struggled again. "He's lying! I didn't take that much!"

      "Lock him up for life!" the merchant insisted. He leaned in toward Iolaus. "You'll never amount to anything!"

      "Says who?" Iolaus responded.

      The peace officers dragged him away.

      "Thanks for nothing, Hercules," Iolaus called out.

      The merchant looked at his ruined booth and all the other damage that had been done to the bazaar. He glanced back at Hercules. "Yeah. Many thanks."

      Hercules flushed with embarrassment when the rest of the crowd echoed similar sentiments. their grumbles echoed around him, some of them punctuated with curses.

      Alcmene rushed to Hercules' side, running a hand over his face as she looked at him worriedly. "Are you all right?"

      "Is he all right?" the merchant demanded angrily. "He brought down the wrath of Ares! Look at our bazaar - destroyed. Now I'll have to move!"

      Alcmene shot the man a harsh glance. The merchant wilted under her glare and stalked off without another word.

      Hercules forced himself to speak, but his voice felt thick in his throat. "I was only trying to return what belongs to Zeus."

      "You ruined this place!" the jeweler shouted over his shoulder. "Stealing never gets you anywhere!"

      The accusation mane Hercules feel even worse. How could things go so wrong when all he was trying to do was the right thing?

~*~

      "Hercules?"

      Turning from the view of the night-draped mountains outside the door to his home, Hercules watched his mother as she laid their dinner on the table. their home was modest, well lighted by the candles Alcmene had put out and the twisting flames in the fireplace. Until lately, he'd never thought about how small it was.

      Alcmene crossed over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Do you know the meaning of the word forbidden?"

      "Uh-oh. Here comes the 'you're wasting your life' speech." Hercules shook his head, not wanting to hear it. "How was I to know there was a cyclone in that urn?"

      His mother sighed. "when you're not staring at Mount Olympus, you're dreaming up new schemes to get the attention of your father."

      Hercules objected gently. "That's not all I ever do. And who wants o impress him anyway?"

      "Hercules, be honest with yourself. Zeus fathered you - and then he abandoned you. I know that hurts. and of course, you're trying to prove yourself to him. But sometimes you jeopardize others."

      Never as much as today. Still, he felt he had to defend himself. "Not intentionally. Besides, Zeus doesn't care about me. Why should I waste my time thinking about him?"

      Alcmene locked her eyes with his, not letting him hid behind his false words. "Because I know you want to take your place - as his son."

      He lied to her then, something he almost never did. And when he did, it was always about this subject and only because he thought it was what she wanted to hear. "Not really." He walked over to the low bench in front of the fireplace, hoping the conversation would end.

      His mother followed him and seated herself beside him. "You have to remember that you're half mortal."

      "Yeah," he said bitterly. "stuck between heaven and earth. So I guess there's no place for me anywhere."

      "Yes, there is. 'To whom much is given, much is asked.' Learn to use the powers that you have. Go to Cheiron, at the Academy."

      His mother had talked about the Academy and its legendary headmaster before. It all seemed too far away, too impossible. How could he leave her? and that wasn't the problem anyway. Hercules looked at her, trying to explain it. "Power? Ares has power. He showed me that today. My father must be laughing at me." He looked at Alcmene. "Not that I care."

      Alcmene paused for a moment, then spoke in a softer voice. "when Iphicles left, it broke my heart. He was-"

      "Jealous of me," Hercules interrupted, "Because I'm a half-god. I don't know why. I'd give anything to be like him - an ordinary man." He still remembered how upset his mother had been when his older half brother had left the family home in anger.

      "And now I'm losing my other son."

      Hercules started to disagree, but his mother shushed him with a raised hand as if he was a child again.

      "Go to Cheiron," Alcmene said. "He's wise. He'll teach you."

      Hercules' throat ached with the effort of speaking. "everything I need to know I can learn from you."

      She stroked his face and smiled, shaking her head. "No. It's time." Tears filled her eyes, and she hugged him close.

~*~

      Hercules stared out at the night, not believing his mother was sending him on his way now instead of waiting for morning. It had even started to rain. But maybe sending him now was the only way she'd have the strength. Maybe morning would have made us both weak, he thought.

      Now she was strong in her convictions, able to let him go. And his own anger at the events that had happened that day pushed him on. He'd embarrassed himself. Everyone in the village was already talking about what had happened in the bazaar.

      Alcmene watched him from the doorway, barely visible in the candle glow spilling out of the house behind her. she waved.

      Hercules waved back at her, swallowing the lump in his throat. Then he glanced down the path that was the beginning of his long journey and took the first step. He told himself that the wetness running down his face was only the rain. He knew it wasn't.

Chapter Four

      Hercules passed through the guards stationed at the front of the Academy. Old and scarred from past battles, the Academy sat on a hill. High rock walls ringed the stone and wood buildings. None of them looked fancy. The Academy was designed for work and study, and to be easily defended against its enemies.

      Now, this is a place for warriors. The ring of steel on steel echoed in the distance and made Hercules smile for the first time since leaving his mother's house days earlier. Maybe I belong in a place like this. After all, my half brother is the god of war. Family traditions and all.

      Hercules followed the directions given to him by one of the cadets and made a final turn around one of the large buildings that took him to the practice fields. Dozens of cadets, all training to be warriors, practiced in the loose sand that filled the center court.

      Pounding horse's hooves drew Hercules' attention. He adjusted his backpack and watched the rider.

      The young man was muscular and of medium build. A tattoo marked his right arm, visible in the sleeveless vest he wore. His short-cropped dark hair caught the light, framing a handsome square-chinned face that looked regal and intense.

      The young man grasped a sword in his right hand. Melons sat on poles in a line before him, at just the height of a standing man's head. As he rode towards them, he rose in his stirrups and swung the sword. The keen edge sliced through the melons one after another, revealing the bright red meat inside.

      I wouldn't want to be a foot soldier against this guy, Hercules thought. Unless I was really short.

      When the rider finished his pass, Hercules turned away and kept walking. According to the directions he'd been given, the gymnasium lay on the other side of the practice fields.

      In the practice fields in front of the gymnasium, cadets punched heavy bags with thudding smacks. Others worked on martial arts movements. Still more groups practiced with wooden replicas of knives, swords, maces, and axes, smashing them against the shields of other cadets.

      The rider who'd attacked the melons so intently reined up at the front door of the gymnasium at the same time Hercules arrived there. The rider slid down from the horse with practiced ease.

      "Excuse me," Hercules said. "Can you tell me where to find Cheiron?"

      "Sure." A confident smile lit the young man's face. He stuck out a hand, and Hercules took it, wrapping his fingers around the young man's forearm. "I'm Jason. Follow me." He turned and walked up the stone steps leading into the gymnasium.

      Hercules followed. More cadets moved with grace and skill on the polished wooden floors. The high ceiling and generous windows permitted a lot of light to enter the huge room. The smell of sweat and leather permeated the building.

      "He'll be around here somewhere," Jason said, glancing about.

      Hercules actually meant to keep in step with the young man's long strides, but all the activity drew his attention. He'd heard lots of stories about Cheiron's Academy, not so much about the master himself as the battles he'd fought in. The buildings weren't as glamorous as Hercules had believed they would be, but they gave a sense of solidness.

      He was distracted by a group of fencers, pausing to watch as their lightning-quick practice swords licked out at one another. Another area held a peculiar post with a number of rods sticking out of it. A student attacked the post with his bare hands, striking and blocking the different rods while another student spun the post. Farther on, a group of students somehow sat impossibly quiet on mats. They had their legs folded, hands resting on knees with their palms turned up.

      Hercules watched in amazement, then realized he'd lost Jason.

      "The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up," a man's voice stated.

      Drawn by the deep voice, Hercules turned and peered over a stack of crates.

      A man stood there, carefully inspecting a crate of short swords. He was bare-chested except for an ornate harness made of small metal plates. His hair hung past his shoulders, kept out of his eyes by an unadorned leather headband. His face showed the passage of years, and the mustache and goatee showed a light sprinkling of silver.

      "Pretty good observation," Hercules said sarcastically, resenting the man catching him standing there gaping. "For a janitor."

      The man seemed to take no offense. "Well, a wheel has many spokes."

      "Yes, and a bird has wings, a dog has paws, a bull has horns," Hercules said, rolling his eyes. "But you've probably observed that, too." He gazed around the gym, looking for Jason or anyone who could be the famous warrior Cheiron.

      "Why did you come here?" the man asked as he continued sorting through the swords.

      "My mother's idea," Hercules answered as he watched two cadets battling each other with padded cudgels while standing on top of poles buried in the ground. "Which I'm beginning to wonder about. Look at those two."

      One of the cadets moved forward in an obvious attempt to set himself up for a swing. His foot missed the pole, and he fell to the mats below.

      "When is that going to happen - in real life?" Hercules asked sarcastically. "This might be a huge waste of time."

      "Time makes all men equal, doesn't it?"

      Hercules glanced at the man in irritation. "Do you always talk in riddles?" Then he shook his head. "Don't answer that. I'm looking for the world-famous Cheiron"

      The man looked at him levelly. "I'm Cheiron."

      The cold chill of immediate embarrassment filled Hercules. "Oh. And I'm off to a really great start."

      "You're Hercules," Cheiron said calmly, "son of Zeus, Alcmene's child. I see the resemblance." He moved from behind the crates, revealing himself.

      Hercules stared at the battle master in open amazement.

      From the waist up, Cheiron was every inch a warrior. But below the waist, he was a dark-haired horse. For strong legs supported him. His long tail switched from side to side.

      "No," Hercules said, not believing what he saw. "Wait a minute. You can't be-" Words failed him.

      "Yes," Cheiron said, folding his arms.

      Hercules recovered his composure. "No offense, but I heard you were a great warrior. What can I learn from you - galloping?" He hadn't meant to be mean, but the image of him galloping alongside the centaur cracked him up. Run, cadet, run like the wind! He didn't think so.

      Before Hercules could make a move to defend himself, the centaur warrior moved like lightning. He grabbed Hercules' arm and flipped him through the air.

      Hercules landed hard on his back, totally caught off guard. As he sat up, he saw that all the activity in the gymnasium had come to a halt. Jason stood nearby, trying to hide his amusement. Everyone's attention was on Hercules. And they were all laughing.

      This is not the entrance I was hoping to make. He glared up at Cheiron but didn't say anything. For a moment he considered throwing himself at the battle master and getting a couple of throws in himself. Then he changed his mind. He'd already made enough of a mess of things.

      Cheiron folded his arms again. A slight smile twisted his lips and pulled at his hooded eyes. "No offense taken."

~*~

      Hercules followed Jason through the gym, past groups of cadets on the practice mats. He'd been grateful to get away from Cheiron. The centaur hadn't said anything more about the disrespect Hercules had shown him, but Hercules still felt bad about it. Even if the centaur hadn't been Cheiron, he hadn't deserved to be treated that way.

      Supper at dusk," Jason said quickly. "Lanterns out at eight. Morning bell is at four o'clock."

      "Get up at four?" Hercules couldn't believe it. "That's for farmers with cows."

      Jason glanced at him, still moving among the warriors in training. "And cadets with a purpose."

      "Yeah, well, I only have one purpose here. To impress my father." Now that he was away from Alcmene, Hercules felt better about admitting it. Around his mother, he couldn't talk about such things because they hurt her. But here he could be honest with himself and with others. To an extent.

      "Most everyone here is the son of somebody famous. Is your dad wealthy?" Jason asked.

      Hercules thought briefly about how to answer the question. Telling him I'm the son of Zeus after getting thrown by Cheiron, after insulting him, is definitely not a good idea. "Sort of. He has resources." Now there's an understatement.

      "Powerful?" Jason asked.

      "You could say that."

      "Is he in politics?"

      "He's"- Hercules fumbled for an answer -"fairly well connected. What about your father?"

      Jason shrugged. "He's a politician. Aeson, king of Corinth."

      Hercules couldn't believe it. Aeson was one of the most powerful men in the region, and Jason seemed so down to earth. The young man had to know what his father represented, the power and prestige that Aeson's name carried. But Jason seemed to just accept it.

      Jason walked through the next door. "Here's your bunk."

      The barracks room was spartan. the bunk beds were little more than hardwood planks with thin mats spread over them. The blankets looked thin.

      "Thanks," Hercules said. He sat on the bed, glad to take the weight off his feet. "It's been two weeks since I've slept in a bed." Once he'd left home, he'd walked as straight as he could to the Academy. The nights had been cold and the ground hard. The time had been lonely. Few people traveled the roads through the hard country.

      Jason shook his head. "I wouldn't get too comfortable there."

      "Why?"

      He took Hercules by the arm, pulling him from the bunk. "No rest during training hours. Sorry."

      Hercules stood. He felt even more tired after getting the chance to sit for a moment.

      Jason turned, gesturing toward a slim young man with olive coloring and almond-shaped eyes. "This is Alcestor."

      Hercules nodded.

      Jason introduced him to the others. Mikos was a short youth with dark curly hair and a shy smile. Thamus was tall and lean, his hair braided. Liardus was tall and black, and had a cold smile that never quite touched his eyes. Enyo was the youngest of them and dropped his gaze when Hercules shook his hand.

      "Now I want you to meet your training partner," Jason said. "the guy you'll spend every moment of every day with. Hercules, this is-"

      Hercules recognized the guy even from behind. There was no mistaking that cocky swagger and the attitude that radiated from him. Still, seeing him at the Academy was surprising. "Iolaus?"

      Iolaus glanced up at him, clearly as surprised as he was.

      Hercules pulled his hand back. So did Iolaus.

      "It took you two weeks to get here?" Iolaus asked with obvious disbelief. "I've seen faster turtles."

      "Yeah," Hercules said angrily. "As they passed you by on the road." During his two-week trip to the Academy, he'd had plenty of time to remember how the young thief had interfered in his plans to get Zeus's attention.

      "Oh, I'm laughing." Iolaus stepped forward, clenching his fists.

      Hercules met him halfway.

      Before they could come to blows, Jason stepped in between them. "Come on, guys, let's hit the track!"

      Hercules let out a tense breath, then nodded. He followed Jason out of the barracks.

      Outside on the track, under Cheiron's watchful eye, Jason led the pack of runners, but Hercules stayed close behind. His travels had gotten him in shape for the rough terrain spread out before him. He ran, pounding his feet against the ground.

      Iolaus matched his pace, and Hercules found the young thief's presence irritating. There's no way someone like Iolaus should keep pace with me.

      "How'd you get here?" Hercules demanded, his breath coming a little faster. "Steal Cheiron's key?"

      "No," Iolaus responded. "He wants me to keep an eye on you." He grinned at his own wit.

      "Yeah?" Hercules said. "Well, with me as your training partner, you'll wish you'd never gotten in here." He reached down and slapped the young thief's leg in midstride, causing it to cross over in front of the other.

      Iolaus tripped and fell face forward on the ground.

      Then Hercules spotted Cheiron under a group of trees slightly ahead of them. The centaur gave him a reproving glance. Okay, so I'm not winning any points, Hercules thought stubbornly. That was still worth doing.

~*~

      "Know your comrades," Cheiron stated. He paced in front of the ten-foot-tall wooden wall in the outer practice field. His hooves clomped on the sand, marking cadence with his words. "The deeper your knowledge, the greater your trust."

      Hercules waited impatiently in line with the other cadets. Even though over the last few days he's shown in a dozen different ways that it was a waste of time pairing him with Iolaus, Cheiron just hadn't gotten it. You'd think by now Cheiron would have understood. It was just horse-sense, right? I have enough knowledge of Iolaus to know not to trust him.

      Jason and Enyo ran to the bottom of the wall. Jason leaped for the top and caught a hold while Enyo slid up under him, caught his foot in his hands, and shoved Jason farther up. Once he was on the top of the wall, Jason reached back down for Enyo. The other boy grabbed Jason's hand and pushed up the wall while Jason pulled.

      Hercules and Iolaus dashed to the wall next. Hercules leaped for the top of the wall and caught it. Iolaus put his hands under Hercules' foot and pushed. Hauling himself up, Hercules sat on the wall.

      Iolaus reached up his hand. "You heard the centaur. 'Knowledge brings trust.'" He swapped glances with Hercules, who took his hand. With Hercules pulling, he was at the top of the wall in no time.

      Hercules stopped pulling just short of the top of the wall. Iolaus looked at him, eyes widening in understanding. Hercules released his hold, watching as Iolaus fell all the way back to the ground. He landed awkwardly and hard.

      "Guess you don't know me well enough," Hercules said, barely able to restrain the smile that threatened to explode across his face.

      Cheiron raised his voice, piercing Hercules with his gaze. "You can't pick up a pebble with only one finger."

      Hercules broke eye contact, feeling bad. But not too bad. Iolaus deserved everything he got. Hercules still didn't understand how the young thief had gotten accepted to the Academy, much less assigned to him. The gods definitely weren't favoring him lately. But then, they never had.

~*~

      Iolaus watched Hercules shifting uneasily on the elevated poles inside the gym. He senses a chance to get back at him. Hercules accepted the padded cudgel Jason handed him and went back to trying to find comfortable footing.

      Iolaus grinned, then twirled his own cudgel. In his years, he'd learned confidence was everything. Girls liked it, and men resented and sometimes feared it. He leaped nimbly up on another pole opposite Hercules, landing with ease.

      Hercules shifted uncertainly, moving to face his opponent.

      Iolaus wanted to laugh out loud at Hercules' ungainly movements but didn't only because Cheiron was watching. Instead, Iolaus leaped again, turning a backflip and landing on another pole. He'd barely touched down before he jumped again, spinning a complete circle in the air this time before landing easily.

      "The point is to be the last man standing," Jason said. As the cadets' captain, he seemed as much in charge of their training as Cheiron. "Balance is key."

      Iolaus spun the cudgel again, making it flash.

      Hercules tried to mirror the movement, but keeping up with the spinning cudgel and his footing was too much. He fell and landed on his back.

      "Looks like Hercules is a little off key," Iolaus observed, smirking.

      The other cadets laughed until a glare from Cheiron silenced them. Obviously the centaur didn't share in their enthusiasm or see the humor in the movement.

      Hercules got up and jumped on top of a pole. He glared at Iolaus.

      The young thief shifted confidently, knowing Hercules' anger was going to work against him. Sure enough, Hercules came at him as directly as an enraged bull, swinging the cudgel at Iolaus' feet.

      Nimbly, Iolaus leaped over the wild swing and shot his own cudgel at Hercules, who ducked back, wobbling uncertainly on the poles. Iolaus landed on his own pole. "Balance," the young thief said, then dodged another blow, "is"-and slammed his own cudgel in Hercules' chest-"key!"

      Knocked off balance, Hercules dropped his cudgel and flailed his arms in an attempt to get his balance. He crashed to the mats below.

      Take that, musclehead. Iolaus performed a double back-flip, landing effortlessly on his feet. He pumped his cudgel in the air in triumph. Without warning, something clapped into his back and knocked him from the pole. He barely managed to keep his face from slamming into the mat.

      Cheiron came to a stop in front of Iolaus. His voice, though soft, carried reproach. "Respect all warriors, friend and foe alike. You're on thin ice, Iolaus."

      Glancing at Hercules, Iolaus saw the other boy's look of disappointment turn into a smile. I've had it, Iolaus thought. There's no fighting the system. Hercules gets away with being a jerk, and I can't even win when I win. I'm outta here.

~*~

      After lights-out in the barracks room, Iolaus crept out and headed for the stables. What few personal items he'd brought to the Academy after the village peace officers had finished with him fit comfortably in the single small bedroll. He wasn't sure where he'd go, but he was definite about going.

      Inside the stable, he glanced around and selected a sure-footed gelding. He took a saddle from the rack against the wall and threw it over the horse's back.

      "Thin ice?" he repeated out loud angrily. "That four-footed know-it-all." He patted the gelding on the neck. "No offense." He stepped and something squished underfoot. Looking down, he saw what it was and got disgusted. "Man, how do you guys live like this? It's everywhere."

      The horse only nickered as if in protest.

      Iolaus grabbed a fistful of straw and scraped the dung off his boot. "What are you upset about? I'm breaking you out of here too." He bridled the animal, stepped into the stirrup, and pulled himself into the saddle. The gelding shifted beneath him as he turned him toward the door.

      "What if he doesn't want to go?"

      Wheeling, Iolaus spotted Hercules leaning against the doorway. He'd never even heard Hercules come after him.

      Anger welled up in Iolaus. "He'll learn to live with it. Get out of the way!"

Chapter Five

      Hercules stepped sideways, filling the doorway. He folded his arms and stared at Iolaus. After the way Cheiron had embarrassed the young thief that day, Hercules had thought he might try to leave. Running away had always been Iolaus' solution to all his problems.

      "I don't think so, training partner," Hercules said. "We're responsible for each other. And I'm not taking the blame for you again."

      "Again?" Iolaus glared at him in disbelief.

      "Yeah," Hercules said "First the twister. then tomorrow there'll be a horse and a jackass missing."

      Iolaus shook his head. "I'm only taking the horse."

      Hercules smirked. "I know."

      Iolaus glared, angered by the insult. He kicked the horse in the sides, urging it forward, then hauling back on the reins to make it rear a little. "Move or I'll give you a horseshoe tattoo."

      Reluctantly, Hercules stepped aside.

      Iolaus rode forward, not wasting any time in getting out of the stable.

      "It's your life," Hercules said, extending a hand. "Well, good luck."

      Iolaus took the offered hand but looked wary.

      Before Iolaus got clear of the door, Hercules reached up and grabbed a handful of Iolaus' leather vest. "Forgive me," he told the young thief sarcastically. "I'm only concerned for your well being." He yanked Iolaus from the saddle and threw him into the dung-covered straw. Then he offered a hand to the young thief.

      "It's the thought that counts," Iolaus said, rising from the straw. Before Hercules could react, Iolaus slammed a fist into his face.

      Pain exploded in Hercules' head as he flew backward. He landed in a pile of dung-covered straw, too. He flipped up and went right at Iolaus. Stopping Iolaus was no longer important, but putting him in his place was. Hercules swung at Iolaus, but the young thief dodged away.

      Although Hercules had greater strength, Iolaus had greater speed. The horse had stopped only a few feet away. Iolaus ran under its legs, bounded from a fence rail on the other side, and back flipped to kick Hercules in the face.

      Hercules went backward but recovered as quickly as Iolaus had. He punched Iolaus in the chest, knocking him backward. He followed quickly, wanting to make the most of his advantage, but he was too slow. Iolaus kicked out with both feet, driving Hercules back.

      They threw fists and elbows at each other, and launched kicks whenever they had secure footing. Hercules got pummeled ferociously, but he gave as good as he got. The small stable worked against him, but its size also made it harder for Iolaus to use all of his acrobatic skills.

      Hercules punched again, knocking Iolaus backward. The young thief stumbled, then leaped up into the air and landed on the top pole of the fence behind him. He balanced precariously for a moment.

      Before Iolaus could firmly set himself, Hercules kicked the pole free. Iolaus started to fall but twisted in midair and landed on the horse. "This is where I wanted to be in the first place."

      Hercules yanked him from the saddle, but Iolaus twisted in his grasp and tangled his legs with Hercules'. they both fell, rolling across the stable muck. Iolaus scrambled to get away. In seconds Hercules slid his arms around the young thief's neck and shoulder in a wrestling grip, straddling Iolaus' back and shoving the young thief's face into the dung-encrusted straw.

      "How does that taste?" Hercules demanded.

      A feminine throat cleared, drawing their instant attention.

      Surprised, Hercules looked up at the girl who stood before them. Iolaus looked up as well. Her beauty stunned them both.

      She was a vision in suede and leather armor, and her blond hair hung in loose ringlets past her shoulders. A sheathed sword rode at her hip. Her intense green eyes glittered in the lantern light, making her features even more defiant. She held the reins of the horse standing quietly behind her.

      Hercules scrambled to his feet, followed quickly by Iolaus. "Can I help you?" Hercules asked.

      "Do I look like I need help?" she asked sarcastically.

      "I thought maybe you were lost," Hercules said uncertainly.

      "This is Cheiron's Academy," Iolaus said helpfully.

      She gave them a glance. "And you must be the grossly inept stable boys."

      "Here," Hercules offered, "Let me do that." He reached for the horse's reins. Man, she's so beautiful.

      She slapped his hand away in a blur of movement. "There must be manure in your years. I said I don't need help. ever." She led the horse to the other side of the stable and tied it to a hitching post.

      "Then we don't even need to tell you where the guest quarters are," Iolaus said smugly. He grinned at Hercules, but the mask of muck he wore partially dimmed his triumph.

      "No," she told them, "because I'll be staying in the barracks. I'm a cadet."

      Hercules saw the look of surprise on Iolaus' face and tried to keep a similar one from his own. There is no way she could be a cadet.

      "A cadet?" Iolaus repeated in disbelief, turning to glance at Hercules. "You can’t' be a cadet. I mean, after all, you're - I mean, well, you're-"

      Realizing Iolaus was about to embarrass them both even more, Hercules stepped to the young thief's rescue. "Short," he said weakly. Oh man, now there's a bright answer. I should have let Iolaus hang himself. Only we'd have both been hung. This can't get any worse.

      The girl moved quicker than Hercules would have believed possible. Seizing a rake from the wall nearby, she reversed it and swept his and Iolaus' feet from under them. They both fell back into the dung-filled straw. He felt the squishy piles under him. Okay, it can get worse.

      "You guys are not only covered with it," the girl said, "you're full of it." She stepped on them both as she headed for the barracks.

      Sitting up, his fight with Iolaus already somewhere far in the back of his mind, Hercules watched her go. I've never met anyone like her. He glanced at Iolaus. "Still going? Or are we done with this?"

      Iolaus grinned. "I'm done with this, and I've found a whole new reason to stay." He smiled dreamily. "She stepped on me."

~*~

      Working on the climbing ropes the next morning with Iolaus, Hercules watched Cheiron enter the gym with the girl at his side. She was even more beautiful in the morning light.

      As she passed, the cadets grew aware of her and halted in their practice. Neither Cheiron nor the girl seemed to notice. Even across the distance, Hercules heard the centaur talking to the girl.

      "You'll learn the value of the team," Cheiron said. "Surrendering yourself to the one self."

      Hercules climbed down the rope, followed by Iolaus. He watched as the cadets continued to freeze in their tracks. The girl gazed in awe at all the activity in front of her, never noticing they'd stopped their work behind her.

      Cheiron grinned slightly. "Go."

      The girl left the centaur's side and walked towards the climbing ropes.

      Hercules watched her, admiring the way she moved. She had a sure-footed grace and a confidence that he found intriguing. And he didn't even know her name.

      "We should get back to work," Iolaus said.

      "Sure," Hercules said. "After you."

      Iolaus made a face at him. "I'm only cooperating because you didn't say anything to Cheiron about last night."

      Hercules shook his head and frowned. "Don't do me any favors. I'm not one to kiss and tell." Then he noticed the girl was coming straight at them.

      She stopped, looking them over judiciously. "You two clean up fairly well," she said, "for manure handlers." She reached for Hercules' rope.

      Remembering how she'd treated them the night before, he pulled the rope away. "Pardon me. For a moment there I forgot. No help." He was aware that every cadet in the gym was watching them.

      She reached for Iolaus' rope, who also pulled his away.

      "Right," Iolaus said. "Sorry."

      Quick as a cat taking a mouse, the girl snatched the ropes from both their hands. Then she pulled and leaped, flipping up to grab a new handhold, pulling and leaping and flipping again to grab another handhold even higher. In seconds she was at the top of the ropes, smiling down at them.

      Wow! That's fast! Hercules whispered to Iolaus, "You know, she really doesn't need any help."

      Cheiron's voice rang out behind them. "Well done, Yvenna."

      At last, Hercules thought, the mystery girl has a name.

      Yvenna slid down the ropes and walked off. Everyone in the room watched her go, awed by the display of physical discipline.

      "Cadets!" Cheiron barked. "Resume the exercises!"

      All the cadets went back to their tasks, but Hercules hesitated a little longer. I know her name, he thought, but she's still a puzzle. what drives her?

~*~

      Yvenna dreamed deep in the night after lights-out. The nightmares waged war again in her mind. The ring of steel meeting steel punctuated the cries of the frightened and of the dying.

      Heart pounding, she awoke. She couldn't catch her breath, and perspiration drenched her. She exhaled, clearing her lungs till she was able to take deep breaths again.

      She looked to her left where Hercules bunked. Of all the cadets she'd met so far at the Academy, he seemed the most honest. And he has the cutest eyes.

      Even in the shadows, she saw that his bed was empty. Where could he have gone?

      She knew it wasn't any of her business, and she had her own agenda here. Reluctantly, she lay back and tried to sleep.

~*~

      Hercules moved on the elevated poles by the light of flickering lanterns. It was quiet in the gym, and there were no other sounds than his own labored breathing. Sweat covered him as he whirled the padded cudgel. He ducked , dodged, and spun. I can do this. I can do this.

      "The night sessions of yours have brought much improvement."

      Startled, Hercules missed one of the poles and crashed to the ground. He glanced up and saw Cheiron step out of the shadows. Much improvement - until now.

      "You startled me," Hercules said, remaining on the ground.

      "always anticipate the unexpected," Cheiron advised. He nodded in satisfaction. "Very good work, Hercules."

      Feeling an uncertain glow of pride start within him, Hercules got to his feet. "This was my own little secret." Being beaten on the elevated poles had gotten unbearable. His pride had demanded the extra training even though he'd had to give up sleep to get it. A true son of Zeus would master such a thing.

      "Now it's ours," Cheiron stated. He handed Hercules a strip of cloth. "Here."

      Hercules took it, not comprehending. "What's this for?"

      "You're ready to progress to the next level." Cheiron's smile carried a hint of challenge. "Try it blindfolded."

      Hercules couldn't believe it. I've finally gotten good enough to move without falling. He can't expect me to do it blindfolded. "You don't quit, do you?"

      Cheiron's voice hardened. "Never-never-never-quit."

      Hesitantly, Hercules tied the strip of cloth over his eyes. And the lesson began again.

~*~

      Iolaus hated sword-stacking duty in the gym. Metal clanked against metal, and his arms already ached from the effort. The only thing that made it bearable was-

      Actually nothing makes it bearable, he realized when he thought about it. At least, nothing made it bearable until Yvenna walked by. The swords dropped from his arms and clattered against the floor.

      Yvenna gave him an amused glance and kept going.

      Abandoning his work, Iolaus raced up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey."

      She turned abruptly, assuming a martial arts stance that he recognized too late to respond to. She grabbed his arm and flipped him onto a nearby canvas.

      Iolaus lay there. "I was only trying to get your attention."

      Yvenna nodded and released him. "you got it."

      Cautiously, Iolaus got up, putting some distance between himself and her. He'd noticed how Hercules had watched her. some triumphs don't have to involve me fighting Hercules. He looked forward to Hercules' Reaction when he saw Yvenna on his arm. Girls could never resist him.

      "If you need-I mean want, or would like a partner, I'm available at the drop of-"

      Yvenna cocked an eyebrow. "Some swords?"

      Embarrassment burned the back of Iolaus' neck, but he forced himself to go on. "What I'm saying is I can lose Hercules. He's a lot of dead weight to carry, even for someone of my advanced level."

      "I see," Yvenna said.

      Iolaus nodded. "The fact is, he's actually holding me back."

      Yvenna didn't look convinced. "Can I go now?" She turned and walked on.

      Taken by surprise, Iolaus lost a couple steps before he caught up to her again. Time to try a different tack. "Wait. May I apologize for saying that you were-"

      She cut him with her gaze.

      "-short?" Iolaus finished weakly.

      "Yeah," Yvenna said, totally unmoved. "That was a really cheap shot. Is that all?"

      Iolaus gave up the approach, frustrated. "Are you ever nice to anybody?"

      "I tried that once," Yvenna said. "It's not nearly as much fun." She left him standing there with his mouth open.

~*~

      That afternoon, after practice was finished, Yvenna walked away from the Academy to the river at the bottom of the hill. It was forested there, and she felt the spot would afford enough privacy for a relaxing swim.

      The water looked clean and refreshing, as if it would dissolve the remnants of the nightmare that had stayed with her that morning when she'd waked. She walked along the bank till she reached a area where trees grew thick.

      A running figure broke out of the trees to her left. She recognized him at once and smiled, knowing he hadn't seen her.

      Hercules left the bank in a long dive hit the water cleanly. He disappeared under the surface, then came up a moment later, shaking the water from his eyes. "Whoa, that's cold." Then he spotted her, a mortified look taking shape on his face.

      "What are you doing here?" Yvenna demanded.

      Hercules worked his mouth, but nothing came out.

      Yvenna gloated inside. It was good to catch him so off balance. She grinned at him coyly. "Were you following me?"

      "No I didn't," he objected. "I was taking a bath."

      "I was going to take a bath here," she told him, trying to make him even more uncomfortable.

      "Excuse me," he replied, trying to assert himself. "I didn't see the sign that said Women Only. I'll leave."

      That wasn't exactly what Yvenna had expected him to say. He is shy. "No," she said, walking closer to the water."No, I've told Cheiron that I want no special treatment. Treat me like one of the guys."

      "Not like any guy I know." Hercules shook his head. "It's all right. I'll come back later."

      Yvenna smiled and sat on the riverbank. "Suit yourself."

      "Fine." He hesitated. "So - if you'll just turn around-"

      "Turn my back on you?"

      Hercules nodded hopefully.

      She almost took pity on him, then shook her head, laughing inside. "Never. Besides, I've been to Athens. I've seen statues. We're both mature cadets."

      Hercules looked totally helpless.

      Yvenna sat and waited.

      then a panicked voice rang out. "Help me!"

      Yvenna turned and saw a runner come stumbling around the curve of the riverbank.

      "I must find Jason of Corinth!" the exhausted man cried, holding up an official-looking scroll. "It's urgent!"

Chapter Six

      Hercules studied Jason's face. Man, that looks like bad news. He and Iolaus sat quietly in the barracks room with the prince as he read the scroll the runner had brought.

      Jason maintained his composure, still the strong leader Hercules had ment that first day at the Academy. When he was finished, Jason closed the scroll and handed it to Hercules.

      "What's it say?" Iolaus demanded.

      Hercules read from the scroll, starting somewhere after the official introduction parts. "Your father has been unconscious for two weeks. Strength diminishing daily. Have tried all avaliable medicines. Corinth in disarray. Come home immediately." He closed the scroll

      Jason paced, as close to losing his self-control as Hercules had ever seen. "This is unbelievable," the prince said. "I saw him only two months ago. He was so strong."

      "Maybe it's just a bad case of the fever," Iolaus said.

      "There are remedies for that," Hercules stated.

      Iolaus shrugged. "Hey, I'm only saying I think he'll be okay. Probably a temporary condition."

      "I hope you're right," Jason said.

      Hercules looked at his friend somberly. "If not, you'd better get there as soon as possible."

      Jason pulled a long sword from his kit by the bunk bed. He stared at its gleaming length.

      That's not a common infantryman's sword, Hercules realized. It had jewels and intricate glyphs etched into the metal.

      "True." Jason twirled the sword expertly, then sheathed it with a flourish at his side. "Especially if there's chaos in the city. It's my duty." He pulled a bag from his kit and started packing.

      Hercules tried to decide what to do. Jason was a friend, but Hercules still had his own destiny to find. His mother had felt it lay here, at the Academy. He couldn't just walk away. But he didn't think he could let Jason go off alone with the heavy burden on his heart.

      Iolaus leaned in close to Hercules. "You mean Jason might become king?" the young thief whispered.

      Anger sparked inside Hercules. "What's the matter with you?"

      Iolaus avoided the question with a grin, then bounded to his feet and put his hand on Jason's shoulder. "You're going to need advisors. And I've got my finger on the public pulse."

      Hercules jerked up from his booth and approached them. "You'd steal it if you could," he accused.

      Jason shook his head. "I don't want to think about the throne now."

      For Jason to become king, Hercules knew, his father would have to die. "Jason, I'd like to go with you." Just to make sure Iolaus didn't go unsupervised.

      "I'm in," Iolaus added. "I always wanted to be a personal friend of a king."

      Jason looked at the young thief sharply. "Iolaus, I'm the same as I always was."

      Iolaus agreed with a nod. "Of course. But with power."

      "Jason," Hercules said, "We don't need him." Taking Iolaus along was like running with a sharp knife at your throat.

      "Yes, you do."

      "No, we don't."

      Jason stepped between them, obviously irritated. "Guys, put your differences aside. I may have need of you both."

      Iolaus grinned in triumph.

      If I ever need Iolaus' help, Hercules thought bitterly, it's only the last resort before I shake hands with Charon, the boatman to Underworld.

~*~

      The noonday sun burned down on the seashore. Hercules tried to sort out the number of days they'd been on the read but didn't know if he'd lost a day or maybe even two in his calculations. They'd traveled fast and they'd traveled hard. He watched the incoming waves, also trying to remember what a real night's sleep was like.

      Jason had remained grim and focused, his mind busy with all kinds of dark thoughts. Iolaus had been the opposite, always talking, though Gercules couldn't always remember what the conversation had been about when he finished.

      They ate lunch as they went, juggling apples, bread, and cheese. Thankfully, Iolaus hadn't insisted on talking about Yvenna. Hercules; thoughts hadn't strayed far from the girl cadet either, but he hadn't talked about her at all.

      "I've heard of 'eat and run,'" Iolaus griped. "I just never thought it meant at the same moment."

      He up-ended the goatskin containing soup they'd bought from a peddler they'd met on the road.

      "Sorry, Iolaus," Jason apologized. "I can't afford to waste time."

      Iolaus yanked the goatskin away and made a face. He spat out the soup and made gagging noises. "Five dinars for this lousy soup? Highway robbery takes on a new meaning."

      "And you know all about robbery," Hercules said, unable to resist.

      Iolaus frowned at him but didn't say anything. He shifted his attention to Jason. "When you're king we won't eat like this."

      Man, Iolaus, you have no tact at all, Hercules thought. Jason had obviously been worried about his dad all day.

      Jason spoke in a low tone, "When I'm king. I don't want to even consider life without my father."

      Hercules kept his voice soft. "You'll get through it."

      "But he's always been there for me," Jason explained.

      Hercules couldn't help wondering what that must have been like. There was so much he'd missed. But he'd already known that from watching the other fathers and sons in his own village. The tone in Jason's voice brought it all back. How do you get the attention of your father when he's the king of the gods?

      "Oh, yeah," Iolaus said. "My dad was there - about two weeks out of the year. The rest of the time he'd be off at some war. I mean, I wouldn't recognize him out of armor."

      "When I was a boy," Jason said, "my father would take me fishing, and we'd wrestle all the time. We'd dive off the cliffs at Delos."

      Hercules swallowed a mouthful of apple. "Really? Wish I'd had that."

      "So?" Iolaus challenged. "I never did things with my old man, and look how I turned out."

      Hercules and Jason both looked at him in reproach.

      Iolaus ignored them. "Anyways," he said to Hercules, "it's not Amphitryon's fault that he died while you were young."

      Without thinking about what he was sawing, Hercules blurted, "Amphitryon was not my father."

      Iolaus stopped in shock. "Whoa! Did Alcmene keep that quiet. Who's your real dad?"

      Hercules shook his head, knowing he'd said too much. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

      Iolaus hurried and caught up to him. "Come on," he wheedled, "Who is it? Somebody in the village? Anybody I've met?"

      "No," Hercules said. "Even I haven't met him."

      "Have you ever tried to see him?" Jason asked.

      "Not yet," Hercules replied. "But maybe one of these days-" He changed subjects, pointing at the ling, ragged coastline that lay ahead of them. "Come on. Let's pick up the pace."

~*~

      Ares, dressed in regal robes instead of the warrior's black armor that suited him so well, stood over the comatose for of King Aeson in a small bedroom behind the throne room. The king of Corinth lay on a plush bed stamped with silverwork, wrapped in blankets that bore the royal seal.

      Only the slight rise and fall of the king's chest separated him from the land of the dead. Ares watched the movement with resentment.

      "Still hanging on, Aeson?" Ares taunted. "Very noble of you - almsot kingly." If it hadn't been in his plans for the old man to live as long as he had, Aeson would have already been dead.

      The king was a middle-aged man who bore the scars and marks of a long life filled with adventure and responsibility. His hair and his full beard held a mix of black and gray. His ringed hands lay crossed over each other.

      "Lord Pelias," a voice called.

      Ares grinned. His newest identity was an absolute thrill even now. The histories of Corinth had mentioned that the king had lost his brother in the wars, but no one knew if he was alive of read. That made it easy to step into the role. Ares stepped out of the bedchamber and into the throne room. "Enter."

      A member of the Corinth artisans' guild entered the room and bowed nervously. The man looked harried, covered in stone dust. "King Pelias," he amended in a quavering voice. "That is to say when you are king when the other king is no longer king and you are king at last. And a good king at that."

      Ares dropped comfortably into the ornate throne. "And?" he asked, waving the man to get on with his story. Mortals were always annoying, but it was amusing to watch them in the full throes of fear.

      Realizing he still had his cap on, the man doffed it with hasted. "The work on your statue proceeds, Lord Pelias. We'll be finished in two weeks' time."

      "Two weeks?" Ares roared.

      The man cowered. "We are not married to two weeks. We could step it up."

      "But I so wanted to unveil it at the king's funeral - and that could be any day," Ares stated. "Finish it soon, or you'll join the others at the gates." Nearly every day there were new dead hung up on the poles along the outer walls.

      The artisan shivered. "Yes, my lord." Dismissed, he turned to scurry out of the room and nearly ran over Discord. The artisan bowed to her, turned and bowed to Ares, bowed to Discord again, and finally stumbled out of the room.

      "Stupid, helpless, incompetent mortals," Ares growled in disgust.

      Discord wore a long, flowing white dress, like a lady of the court. She perched on the edge of the throne by Ares and lazily adjusted the folds of her dress.

      "What's the point of this stupid charade?" she asked petulantly. "Why do you pretend to be Aeson's long-lost brother, Pelias? Let them know you're Ares and lay waste to this place."

      Ares pushed himself out of the throne. He paced and thought over his sister's simple, ruthless plan. He found he kind of liked it. But still, his own plan held clever details with a number of ramifications. He much preferred those. "Oh, sister, don't you see? This way brother kills brother. Uncle destroys son. I enjoy the symmetry."

      Discord pulled at her white gown, her distaste obvious. "Well, how long does this play-actiong go on? I hate these clothes."

      "Yes, white is not your color. Not very exciting."

      She licked her bloodred lips and grinned at him. "What I'd find exciting is torching this city."

      "And slaughter so many innocents?" Ares asked, acting shocked. "Not a bad idea. Perhaps - in good time."

      Discord settled onto the throne, making herslef at home. "Oh, did I mention your plan is unfolding like a black rose? Jason is on his way here."

      Ares smiled in satisfaction. Of course his plan was working. Intricate though it was, he'd made it. His plans didn't often fail. Corinth was going to be merely one more bauble in a long line of conquests he'd made. "Tell me Hercules is with him."

      "Consider yourself told." Discord jumped up from the throne. "Now let me ambush them on the road and send them packing to Tatarus!"

      "You're such a firebrand," Ares complimented her. "How easily you forget. Our dear half brother cannot be killed at the hand of either one of us - by order of Zeus."

      Discord whispered conspiratorially. "I'll do it quickly. Zeus might never know."

      "Patience," Ares advised. "If Hercules is tragically killed, along with his heroic friends, in a untimely, hideous, bloody accident-"

      "I love it when you talk like that," Discord told him. "And I've arranged one."

      Ares looked at her with pride. "Pretty sneaky, sister. What have you done without telling me?"

      An innocent smile curved Discord's lips. Her eyes gleamed with malice. "Only sent out the welcome wagon."

~*~

      "Are we almost there? Where's the red carpet? The food and wine? The nubile young women?"

      Hercules ignored Iolaus' whining voice as they crested the latest in a long line of sand dunes. The loose sand made walking even harder, and the sun was relentless. He'd spent a large part of the last few miles wondering how cool the sea would be. Maybe I could talk Jason into a swim for just a few minutes, Hercules thought. One look at Jason's face, though, told him it would be impossible to distract his friend. Hercules sighed and continued tramping through the sand.

      As they crested the dune, he spotted two black chariots racing toward them. The drivers and the men with them wore leather armor decorated with rings that also served as increased protection from sword blades. The horses were sweat-streaked, showing miles of hard use.

      The extra men in the chariots bore spiked maces. They showed every intention of using them and being happy about the opportunity. On closer inspection, Hercules saw the four warriors wore leather masks as well.

      That does not look good. "Here's your welcoming committee," Hercules told Iolaus.

      Only yards from them, the chariots separated. A chain hung between the chariots, ripping through the sand and scattering clouds of dust.

      Moving quickly, Hercules shoved Jason and Iolaus in separate directions. They flew out of harm's way, but the chariots were on Hercules before he could move. The chain caught him across the stomach, flipping him and knocking the wind out of him. He glanced back at his friends.

      The extra men in the back of the chariots had bailed out when Hercules had shoved his friends clear. The men lifted their maces and attacked Jason and Iolaus as the two got to their feet. Jason and Iolaus both ripped their swords free of their sheaths. The battle joined even as the chain dragged by the chariots flipped Hercules again. He landed on the other side of it and hung on stubbornly.

      He could have gotten free by letting go, but he had a plan. It actually wasn't much of a plan, but it worked for him. He also didn't have much time.

      The chariots closed together. For the first time, Hercules noticed the spinning razor-edged steel triangles sticking out of the center of the wheel hubs on the chariot to the left. If the drivers succeeded in pinning him between them, the flashing blades would slice and dice him. The drivers pulled on the reins, bringing the chariots even closer together as he held onto the chain.

Chapter Seven

      Desperate, Hercules pulled on the chain between the two chariots as the spinning blades closed in on him. If he could only break them, he knew he would have the chance he needed. Hetting his grip while being pulled across the sandy beach as full gallop was hard. But finally he locked both fists on the chain and yanked as hard as he could.

      The chain links shattered just as the deadly razor edges were only inches from his face.

      Hercules clung to the end of the broken chain at the back on the chariot on his left. He immediately dropped behind the chariot, rolling as he was dragged through the sand.

      Tightening his grip, Hercules pulled himself up the chain hand over hand toward the chariot. The driver glanced back and saw him, then yanked his horses from left to right to try to shake Hercules free. Hercules twisted and turned at the end of the chain like a fish fighting a line. He kept climbing, spitting out the sand in his mouth.

      He reached the chariot and pulled himself on board. Finding his balance, he stood and grabbed the driver's shoulder. He spun the man around and punched him in his masked face.

      The chariot driver's head snapped back.

      Before the man could recover, Hercules picked him up and threw him from the chariot. Grabbing the reins, Hercules turned the horses around, then whipped them back up to speed as he headed toward Jason and Iolaus.

      He looked over his shoulder, watching the second chariot driver stop long enough to pick up the man Hercules had thrown out of the captured chariot.

      Jason feinted toward his opponent, then launched a roundhouse kick at the man's head as he ducked away. The kick stretched the man out in the sand. Iolaus flipped over the other guard's sword blow and landed behind the man before he could recover. Almost nonchalantly, the young thief slammed the flat of his sword against the man's head and laid him out. Both Jason and Iolaus sprinted towards the approaching chariot.

      Hercules slowed the team only a moment, long enough for his friends to leap on. Then he whipped the reins over the horses' backs, driving them forward at a full gallop.

      The second chariot came up quickly, gaining speed as the team stretched out their galloping legs. Their hooves clapped thunder against the ground, louder even than the rushing rattle of the chariot wheels. The first driver had picked up a mace and stood ready to use it.

      "Get us out of here," Iolaus yelled to Hercules.

      Knowing he couldn't outrun the other chariot, Hercules steered his team toward it. He closed in on the other chariot, getting close enough to reach out and touch it. He closed in on the other chariot, getting close enough to reach out and touch it.

      The chariot driver stared at them in astonishment. The man swung his mace at Iolaus, who ducked wildly beneath it.

      "Are you out of your mind?" Iolaus screamed.

      Hercules pointed at the wheel on Iolaus' side, indicating the flashing blades sticking out from the hub. He pulled the team toward the other chariot again. This time he matched up the blades with the other vehicle's wheel spokes. Metal shrilled as the keen edges shopped chips from the spokes and bared white wood. Hercules handed the reins to Iolaus, who struggled to maintain control over the pulling team.

      The blades shredded the narrow wheel spokes, dropping the other chariot's axle into the sand. At the same time, Hercules knocked the second man's mace away with a backhand block and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He yanked the man from the chariot as the axle caught in the sand and flipped the rig into the air.

      Out of control, the chariot overturned. The team broke free of the traces and ran away as the driver crashed into the ground.

      Hercules held his prisoner in one hand, suspending him over the spinning wheel blades. He lowered him an inch or two, knowing the man would get the idea.

      Jason slipped in beside Hercules and addressed the man struggling to keep his feet above the whirling razors. "Who sent you?"

      "Pelias," the man answered without hesitation.

      A troubled look filled Jason's face. "Pelias is dead."

      The man shook his head. "Pelias is king."

      Hercules glanced at Jason, seeing the hard lights in his friend's eyes.

      Jason held his control, total ice. "Lose him," he said.

      Hercules shoved the man away, watching as he hit the sandy ground and went bouncing and rolling away. Hercules held his questions, knowing Jason didn't have any answers.

      He wouldn't know anything until they reached Corinth.

~*~

      The afternoon sun drew crimson streaks across the sky when Hercules guided the chariot to a stop on top of one of the hills overlooking Corinth. The walled city sat on top of a hill overlooking a fertile valley. A river cut through the valley, shimmering blue with smudges of the orange sky reflected in it.

      Hercules had never been to the city before, but he'd heard a lot about it from his mother. He gazed at it in wonder.

      They rolled into the forest and chopped brances and small trees. Working quickly and carefully, they left the chariot hidden in a mass of underbrush beneath a copse of trees. There was no question about what they had to do next. Jason had to get into the city, and Hercules and Iolaus were going with him.

      Then they walked down the hill and found the first of the dead hanging on posts.

      "This isn't right," Jason said as he gazed at all the corpses.

      Now, there's an understatement. "When did you last see your uncle?" Hercules asked.

      "My father told me he died in battle when I was a baby."

      They continued on to the city gates. Hercules gazed on both sides of the trail. More corpses hung from wagon wheels, days dead and rotting in the sun.

      Jason paused all of a sudden, then turned and walked over to one of the bodies. He looked up into the dead face. "Zandarus," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "My father's most trusted advisor." He glanced at Hercules, obviously shaken. "and the rest, all his inner council."

      I wonder how Iolaus feels about that advisor' position now? Hercules thought. But he didn't day anything. The harsh deaths of these people unnerved him as well.

      He studied the city walls. Corinth's walls were tall, and the watchmen strategically posted. Getting in would be difficult.

      "Pelias' orders," one of the watchmen yelled. "No one in, no one out."

      "I count three guards at the gate," Hercules said. "Let's take them."

      "No." Jason was firm. "I don't want any more of my people killed. Not even the guards."

      "Digging a tunnel might be a little time consuming," Iolaus pointed out. He paused for a moment. "Wait - does anybody have some of that soup left?"

      "Soup?" Hercules couldn't believe it. "We only ate a short time ago."

      Iolaus frowned and shook his head. "Work with me here, guys. I have a plan."

~*~