Cheiron's Warriors Transcript

« Back to "Young Hercules: Cheiron's Warriors"

Young Hercules: Cheiron's Warriors

Young Hercules: Cheiron's Warriors
Written by Keith R.A. DeCandido.
Based on the hit TV series created by Rob Tapert and Andrew Dettman & Daniel Truly.

Acknowledgements

      The author would like to thank the following: Howard Zimmerman, without whom I would not have written this book. Anne Greenberg, editor extraordinaire, and Rodger Weinfeld, assistant extraordinaire, for phenomenal work under ridiculous pressure. The good folks at Studios USA, who kept their eye on me and let me play in their sandbox. Ryan Gosling, Ian Bohen, Dean O'Gorman, Chris Conrad, Jodie Rimmer, Nathaniel Lees, Joel Tobeck, Meighan Desmons, Stephen Tozer, Stig Eldred, and the amaing Kevin Smith, as well as the remaining cast and crew of Young Hercules (not to mention Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess), for ongoing inspiration. GraceAnne A DeCandido and John E. Peters for invaluable editing. Scott W. Langman, aka Miltiades, for equally invaluable research assistance. The Millenium Britannia Hotel in London and the Jens home in Chicago, where parts of this book were written. Lisa Clancy and Ginjer Buchanan, for general niftiness. And also, in no particular order, The Greek Myths by Robert Graves, Atlas of the Greek World by Peter Levi, the Greek exhibit halls in London's British Museum, Ashley McConnell, Kimberly Rector, Martha Wells, Rachel M. Bailey, the wonderfully twisted denizens of the KSmithAres and Hellmouthy Internet mailing lists, Laura Anne Gilman, and most especially my beloved wife and the best muse a guy could hope for, Marina Frants.

Chapter One

      Iolaus never saw the staff coming.

      Hercules watched his childhood friend balancing on a pair of flat-head poles, staff in hand. Over a dozen pairs of poles were arranged on the floor of the training room. They were raised about a foot off of the ground. The idea was to not fall off the heads of the poles while fighting your opponent. Iolaus's opponent in this case was Lilith. She stood facing him.

      Then Hercules had first come to Cheiron's Academy to be trained as a warrior, he'd thought the poles were stupid. "when is that ever gonna happen in real life?" he had asked Cheiron, the centaur who ran the Academy.

      Now Hercules knew better. for one thing, he had had to fight on similar poles in real life. For another, it was good practice. If you could fight while keeping your balance, fighting on solid ground was a lot easier.

      Or at least it was when you weren't exhausted. Unfortunately, Iolaus had been sparring for six straight hours. Sweat glistened on his forehead and matted down his curly blond hair.

      Then Lilith's staff clubbed Iolaus on the side of the head.

      "Oooh, that's got to hurt," Hercules said.

      Standing next to him, Jason said, "Hey, it's okay. She got him on the head. It's not as if she hit anything important."

      Hercules nodded. "Good point."

      Despite the banter, Hercules was worried. The son of Zeus - king of the gods - and a mortal woman named Alcmene, Hercules had greater strength and endurance than such mortals as Iolaus, Jason, and Lilith. But after six hours, even he with his half-god stamina would have been on his last legs. He couldn't imagine how exhausted Iolaus must be.

      Lilith, the Academy's only girl student, swung her staff around at Iolaus's shins.

      Iolaus made a low jump and bent his legs under him. The staff swung beneath them.

      His right foot came down smoothly on a pole.

      His left foot didn't.

      As he tried to shift his weight to his right foot o keep from falling, Iolaus swung wildly with his own staff.

      Lilith, of course, blocked it. she blocked it so hard that Iolaus lost his footing. He dropped his staff and somehow managed to break his fall with his hands. Hercules was impressed with the quality of the fall. But then, how to fall properly was one of the first things Cheiron taught. That was at least as important as landing a blow.

      If only Cheiron was here now, Hercules thought.

      "Pathetic!" came a voice from behind Hercules.

      Here it comes, Hercules thought as Iolaus struggled to rise.

      The voice said, "No, don't bother, thief. If this were real combat, yuo'd be dead after that idiotic stunt, so you may as well stay down."

      Iolaus took the advice and let his head slump to the floor. Hercules couldn't blame him.

      A week earlier Cheiron had cone off to attend a wedding. Having learned his lesson the last time he had taken leave, the centaur did not put the Academy's bursar, Fiducius, in charge. Instead, he brought in Kostas, "an old comrade," as a substitute.

      Hercules, Iolaus, Lilith, and Jason were thrilled when they heard. They figured a sub meant an easy week. "Probably some retired general or something," Jason said. "He'll spend more time complaining about his lumbago than training us, and we can spend most of the week at Kora's."

      No such luck. Cheiron's "old comrad" was an active soldier from Crete, not a retired one. He worked the cadets harder than they'd ever worked and gave them no breaks. they spent very little time at Kora's, the eatery where the cadets usually hung out during off-hours.

      Kostas didn't think the Academy was a fit place for a son of Zeus, as he "makes everyone else look bad." He didn't think much of Jason, Iolaus, of Lilith, either. Jason was the crown prince of Corinth destined to become king once he had graduated from the Academy. Iolaus had been a thief, but he'd chosen to attend the Academy in lieu of jail time. And Lilith was "just a girl." Kostas didn't like the idea of princes, thieves, or girls "playing soldier," as he put it.

      Never mind that all four of them were quite serious about what they were doing at the Academy. Never mind that Hercules was no better or worse than anyone else there, even if his father was a god. Kostas had his own ideas about what was what, and the Fates help you if you didn't go along with him.

      "Look at you," Kostas said to Iolaus, "Off balance, sloppy - you move as though you're stuck in honey."

      Hercules turned to look at Kostas's scarred, tanned, bearded face. This was a man who had seen a lot of action.

      "That's because I've been sparring for six straight hours," Iolaus muttered.

      "You ever been in a war, thief? The enemy won't stop because you're tired or because you're hurt. Now get up, get back on the poles, and get it right this time. To be beaten so badly by a girl is embarrassing."

      "Hey!" Lilith said. "that's not fair."

      "Life isn't fair, girl," Kostas said with a slower at the young blond. "You of all people should know that." He looked down and then kicked Iolaus. "Get up, thief!"

      That was going too far. "Hey," Hercules said, "you don't have to kick him."

      "That's your opinion, godling," Kostas said with a sneer. "And when you run this Academy, you can make that decision. For the moment, be silent."

      "Now, wait a minute," Hercules said. "you can't-"

      "I can do what I want until Cheiron returns."

      "That doesn't mean-"

      "Quiet, godling. You will speak when spoken to, understood?"

      Hercules was about to argue more, but then he caught Iolaus's look From behind Kostas's back, Iolaus mouthed the word "Don't."

      Only then did Hercules force himself to calm down. He folded his arms and gritted his teeth. The cadets had been putting up with Kostas's abuse for a week now, and Hercules was starting to get tired of it. Kostas had all of Cheiron's worst qualities and none of the centaur's good ones.

      Luckily, the cadets had to last only one more day. Then Cheiron would come back, and they'd return to plain old grueling training instead of this nightmare.

      As Iolaus retrieved his staff and climbed back onto the poles, Hercules thought, I for one am counting the moments until tomorrow.

      Iolaus got in the defensive position. Lilith did the same, but Kostas said, "No, girl, you're done. The prince is next."

      Lilith mouthed, "I'm sorry." Iolaus shrugged in response s Lilith got down off the poles.

      Jason, though, didn't move.

      "I said, you're next, 'Your Highness.'" Kostas spoke the last two words with another sneer. Sneering seemed to be his usual facial expression.

      "I won't fight him," Jason said with his arms folded.

      "Excuse me?"

      Go, Jason! Hercules thought with a smile.

      "He's exhausted. He's in no shape to spar. He's barely in any shape to stand. I won't fight him," Jason repeated.

      Kostas glared at Jason for a moment, then scratched his gray beard. "Last week Cheiron told me that you had made a promise when you enrolled. Within these walls you would not be the prince, you would be just another cadet. So either you are breaking that promise now, or you are questioning a superior. Which is it?"

      Jason glared right back for a moment, then unfolded his arms and looked down. "Neither, sir," he muttered.

      Then Kostas did something really scary: he smiled.

      "Good. Now get on the poles, 'Your Highness.'"

      Through clenched teeth, Jason said, "Yes, sir." Then he took Lilith's staff and climbed up onto the poles.

      Iolaus managed to hold his staff in a defensive position, wobbling as he tried to balance. Hercules didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified.

      Jason took a swing. Iolaus saw it coming and blocked it pretty easily. Iolaus's staff barely shook with the impact. Jason's not putting any effort into it, Hercules thought.

      Three more swings came from Jason, to different parts of Iolaus's body, each as weak and obvious as the first. Iolaus blocked them.

      "Stop!" Kostas yelled. "You call this sparring? You're moving worse than the thief, 'Your Highness.' And frankly, I didn't think that was possible. Now put some effort into it!"

      Hercules had known Iolaus for a long time. Although he could be a giant pain at the best of times, he would always be there for a friend. It didn't look as if Jason was going to do anything that might hurt Iolaus, but that was only going to make Kostas angry at Jason. So, Hercules thought, Iolaus is probably going to make Jason spar properly in order to keep Jason out of trouble.

      Sure enough, Iolaus took a swing at Jason.

      Not expecting that, Jason got his staff up barely in time to block the swing. Iolaus then swung the staff around to get Jason at the shins. Unfortunately, the swing was too slow and too sloppy. Jason simply lowered his staff to block that move as well.

      Sadly, as with Lilith, this block was hard enough for Iolaus to lose his grip on the staff. It fell to the floor, bouncing off the poles with the clack of wood on wood.

      Jason, now getting into it, smiled and took a swing at Iolaus's shoulder.

      Normally, Iolaus's reaction would be to bend his knees and do a backflip, but he didn't leap as high as he needed to, and so he fell between the poles, hitting his head on one of them. "Ow," he said.

      Then the dinner bell rang. Hercules looked up at Jason, and the two of them said in perfect unison, "Chow time!"

      "All right, that's it for today," Kostas said. "Lilith, tomorrow I want you to work with Idas. You keep leaving your left side exposed." He turned to the other three as Hercules helped Iolaus up out of the poles and Jason stepped down from them. "You three have a special assignment tomorrow. Cheiron's boat is due to arrive at noon. You're to meet him and escort him back to the Academy."

      "I don't suppose I could go, too?" Lilith asked.

      "You need to work on your left side," Kostas said. "Besides, this is a task that involves responsibility. It's a man’s job, not a girl's."

      "What!" Lilith said. Her eyes went wide.

      "Hey," Hercules said, "that's-"

      "I've made my decision, and it's final!" Kostas spoke in a tone Hercules had come to know very well this past week. There was nothing to gain by arguing and a lot to lose.

      "Come on," Jason said, putting a hand on Hercules' shoulder. "Let's go chow down."

      "One other thing," Kostas said as the four of them turned to leave.

      What now? Hercules wondered.

      "Dedication to your comrades is an important thing, and admirable."

      Wow, Hercules thought. That was almost a compliment.

      "If you ever have the skills to support that dedication, you might possibly amount to something. Not that I'm counting on it."

      With that, Kostas turned on his heel and left the workout room by the far door.

      Emphasis, Hercules thought, on the word "almost."

      "You think he was born a jerk," Lilith asked, "or has he been practicing?"

      "Looks to me like natural talent," Jason said.

      "Let's go," Iolaus said walking quickly toward the door. "I'm starved. Right now even the usual Academy slop will taste like ambrosia."

      "Sure," Hercules said with a pat on Iolaus's back.

      Iolaus winced. "Not so hard, huh, Herc?"

      "Sorry."

      "Hey, Iolaus," Jason said with a grin, "I liked that last move. What do you call it?"

      Before Iolaus could say anything, Hercules said, "Falling on his butt. It's a great way to lull your opponents into a false sense of security."

      "Hardy-har-har," Iolaus said sourly.

      "Hey, come on," Hercules said. "Tomorrow Cheiron will be back and everything will return to normal."

      "You're right, Herc," Iolaus said with a smile. "After tomorrow things will be nice and calm."

Chapter Two

      "Hey, Unc, how's it going?"

      Ares looked up to see that his nephew Strife had shown up in his temple. As always, Strife wore an all-black studded leather outfit that covered his entire body. Eith his jedt-black hair, Strife looked like a disembodied head against the black marble of Ares' temple. The walls were decorated with weapons from all over the known world. Ares had arranged them in an elegant pattern. Strife's giggling presence in front of that wall spoiled the effect, as far as Ares was concerned.

      Since Strife had not been invited, the god of war was not thrilled with the younger god's presence. He was never really happy to see his nephew. "What do you want, Strife?"

      "Oh, just wanted to see how the ol'uncle was doing, y'know?" Strife laughed his fake laugh, smiled his fake smile, and chuckled a fake chuckle. It was his typical way of trying to be endearing. Ares found it even more annoying than usual.

      Looking back down at the scrying pool he'd been staring into, Ares said, "Just looking for a little war."

      Strife grinned. "What's the matter, Sparta not keeping you busy enough?"

      Gesturing over the pool, Ares made the image in it change to Amphipolis. All was quiet.

      Ares hated quiet.

      "Hey, I know, Unc. Why don't you start a rockslide in amphipolis and blame it on the Poteidaians?"

      On the other hand, Ares thought, quiet does have its virtues. "What do you want, Strife?" he repeated.

      Throwing up his hands, Strife said, "Just trying to help out, Unc. You know, cause a little strife, maybe get something going."

      "Like you and Discord attempted with the Amazons and centaurs?"

      Strife's face fell. "Well, okay, maybe that wasn't a complete success. Unc, but hey, nobody's perfect, right?"

      Ares, however, wasn't listening. A mention of that little failure of his nephew and sister gave him a thought.

      He gestured over the pool again, and it showed an image of the Centaur Nation. Their council of elders was gathered to discuss policy.

      Discuss, Ares thought with disgust. And they call themselves warriors.

      Discord and Strife had tried to start a war between one of the amazon tribes and the Centaur Nation. Ares had objected at first - he was very fond of the Amazons. But he'd had to admit that the war sounded like a good idea.

      Unfortunately, his stupid little half brother Hercules had managed to put a stop to it.

      Strife walked over to stand next to Ares at the scrying pool. "Hey, look, centaurs! Cool! You know, they've been having little border wars with the Amazons." Strife broke into another one of his stupid grins. "Maybe - and I'm just woolgathering here, Unc - but maybe we we could take another shot at getting that war going? Huh, huh?" he added with an elbow to Ares' ribs.

      Ares snapped his fingers. With a flash of light Strife was sent flying across the room. He crashed headfirst into one of the black stone walls. A shield from Gaul that had been hanging there fell onto they young god's head.

      "Ow!"

      "The Amazons aren't ready for that kind of battle," Ares said. He spoke normally, as if Strife weren't lying in a heap on the floor. "But the centaurs are. They're a surly bunch. Strong, powerful, disliked by most humans." He broke into a grin. "My kind of folks."

      "You know, they use centaurs as slaves in Syracuse," Strife said. "Maybe the centaurs can fight the Syracusans." He started to get up.

      Again, Ares snapped his fingers. Another shield, this one from Chin, flew off the far wall to knock Strife on the head.

      "Ow!" he cried again. He stopped trying to get up.

      "No. Syracuse is a poor enemy for the centaurs. Too far away." Ares gestured once again. The image in the pool changed to a palace. "Corinth, on the other hand, would be perfect."

      Strife giggled. "'Cause that's where Jerk-ules is, right?"

      "Partly. If something happens in Corinth to anger the centaurs, they would declare war. For example, say some slavers take a few centaurs in Corinth and sell them into slavery in Syracuse."

      Frowning, Strife said, "But wouldn't Corinth just say it wasn't their fault?"

      "Oh, any decent ruler would probably be able to keep war from happening. But Corinth doesn't have a decent ruler anymore, they just have a boy. And young Prince Jason doesn't stand a chance of holding off the centaurs." Ares scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully. "Of course, his dear, departed father, King Aeson, surely would have been able to prevent a war." Ares smiled. "That was one of many reasons why I killed the old man."

      Strife got up and pumped his fist. "I like it, Unc, I like it!"

      Ares rolled his eyes. "Well, I think I'll go through with it anyhow." He held up his hand as if to snap his fingers again.

      "Aaaah!" Strife cried, holding up his arms in front of his head. "Not in the face, not in the face!"

      Ares just glowered at his nephew. Then he snapped his fingers, and in an instant he was somewhere else.

      The god of war's temple was a black stone monument to the glories of war. It was filled with the relics of battles throughout the ages. On the other hand, the hut Ares transported himself to was just a monument to bad architecture. It was a small straw hut, barely held up by rotting wooden supports.

      But then, Ares thought, Elias never went much for the finer things in life.

      Elias was a slave trader; he was also a dedicated worshipper of Ares - two things that made him perfect for Ares' plan.

      At the moment Elias sat in the middle of his tiny, leaky hut. The short, stocky man was sloppily eating a bowl of soup.

      When Ares appeared before him, Elias spit put his soup in surprise. Broth spattered on the war got's leather vest. "My lord Ares!"

      With a gesture Ares removed the unsightly stains. That's the nice thing about ambrosia over this mortal food, he thought. It doesn't make a mess.

      Elias rose clumsily from his chair, then got down on one knee. "To what do I owe this great honor, my lord?"

      Again, Ares rolled his eyes. The other gods were big on mortals bowing and scraping before them. Ares always found it to be phoney and a waste of time. "Get up. I have a job for you."

      Rising to his feet, Elias said, "The honor is to serve, my lord."

      "Whatever. I need you to capture a dozen centaurs and then tak them to Syracuse. There's a market for them. You keep any monetary profits."

      Elias blinked and scratched one ear. "Your humble servant thanks you, my lord. But does the got of war not wish a portion of our bounty as tribute?"

      Ares smiled. "I have little use for dinars, Elias. Oh, feel free to donate something to one of my temples if you feel you must. I certainly won't stop you. But my interest is more... bloody."

      Elias returned the smile. "Warfare, I presume?"

      "What else? Here." Ares held out one hand. With a flash of light a pair of golden manacles appeared in them. He'd had Hephaestus make them decades ago when a warlord was having trouble holding on to prisoners. "Place these on any two limbs - the human or the equine ones, it doesn't matter. As soon as you put them on, the centaur will be completely immobile. Then you can chain up each one with ease."

      Taking the manacles from Ares, Elias said, "My lord is generous." He was still smiling, but it was a greedy smile now. "Will there be anything else?"