Iolaus rode after Hercules, reasoning that on foot he'd have no chance of catching up with his half-god friend. If Hercules was in a hurry, he might have trouble catching him on horseback. But, by the gods, it felt good to be back on the road. His sword hung by his side; the weight a familiar old friend. He carried a bow slung across his back, and a quiver of arrows strapped to the saddle. The old excitement was back in his heart, alongside his worry.
It was evening when he finally caught up with Hercules, who was camped beside the river. He had obviously been there for some time: he had a good fire going, and some fish baking close to the flames. When he heard the horse approach, he leapt to his feet, obviously expecting trouble.
"Iolaus?" Concern was written all over his face as he recognised his friend. "What is it? Has something happened?"
Iolaus slid down from the saddle gratefully. "Herc, Leipephile is gone. Gabrielle thinks she left to follow you."
A few minutes later Hercules had the full story. He sat down beside the fire and checked on his fish supper. Then he looked up at Iolaus. "So why are you following me? Wouldn't it make more sense to follow your daughter?"
Iolaus looked embarrassed. "I tried. I hate to admit it, Herc, but I've got no chance of finding her. I taught Leipe everything I know...all those old hunters tricks. She's better at it than I am!"
Hercules began to laugh. "You taught your own daughter to outsmart you!"
Iolaus cringed under his friend's amusement. "Yeah, alright. Don't rub it in. I'm worried for her, Hercules."
The laughing stopped. "And you're right to be. OK, Iolaus, we'll find her." Hercules glanced around the clearing. "I've covered a lot of ground today. She's on foot?"
Iolaus nodded. "As far as I know."
"Well, if she was hiding her trail she couldn't have been travelling very fast. She's not likely to be nearby, is she?"
Iolaus didn't know. "If it were anyone else I'd say that makes sense, but honestly, you never know with Leipe. She's full of tricks."
"Alright, I'll take a look around. You wait here."
Hercules was gone for a long time. Iolaus waited impatiently, helping himself to some of Hercules' fish, listening intently for any sound that would signal his friend's return. Eventually Hercules came back - alone.
"There's no sign of anyone, Iolaus," he reported. Hercules reached for his supper, by now somewhat overdone. "Well, this is just like old times," he commented, looking mournfully at his burnt fish. "Iolaus, are you certain Leipephile would be coming after me?"
Iolaus nodded. "The more I think about it, the more I'm sure Gabrielle is right. It's just like her."
"You'd better head home in the morning. I'll travel on a bit more slowly. If she catches up with me, I'll send her home."
"Not a chance," Iolaus insisted.
"Iolaus, you can't come with me."
"I'm not going home without Leipephile. Gabrielle would kill me."
"Iolaus..."
Iolaus set his jaw stubbornly. "I know what you're thinking," he told his friend. "Herc, I know I'm an old man, not a warrior. I won't lie to you: I'd give almost anything to get the old days back again. Just one day...best friends back to back...but that's not what this is about. Leipephile is my daughter! What would you have done if it was Ilea?"
Hercules smiled to himself at the image of his own sweet daughter rushing off to be a warrior. "I don't think..."
"Hercules, you told me you think Ares is behind this war. Leipephile is Xena's protégé."
That stopped him. Hercules had seen Leipephile's potential himself when he fought her. The thought of what Ares might make in her, if he found her while her mind was still young enough for him to mould to his worship... A single image rose from his memory: Xena, a cruel smile playing about her mouth as two best friends she'd successfully turned against each other fought in front of her army.
He couldn't argue in the face of that.
So Iolaus accompanied Hercules on his journey.
A thick plume of black smoke was rising in the distance. Not a good sign. It was a sight both men found all too familiar, and it was with wary reluctance that Hercules travelled toward what was left of the village, to see if he could do anything to help the survivors.
They found no survivors.
The signs of battle in the village were all too familiar to them both. The tracks of a dozen or more horses; houses broken and burning; bodies of the men who had tried to defend their homes. Everyone who had lived there had either been killed or driven away. All of it was the unmistakable spoor of a foraging army.
"I hoped I'd never see this again," Iolaus said, his eyes surveying the wreckage.
"I know." Hercules bent down and picked up a scrap of cloth. It was a red band that had held some sort of design before it was torn away. Hercules turned the cloth over in his hands. "This looks like Darius' mark," he said aloud.
"You sound confused."
"I am. The last time I crossed paths with Darius was in Thessalonia. What would he be doing this far south?"
"You sure it's the same mark?"
Hercules shrugged, putting the red cloth away in his pack. "Maybe not. The badge has been torn. Come on, Iolaus. There's nothing we can do here. We'd better stay off the roads, though."
Iolaus agreed. He might be carrying weapons, but he wasn't keen to try his rusty skills against a warlord's army. Although, after what they had seen, he suspected Hercules would be.
They travelled on more slowly, parallel to the road but not near it. Hercules was silent and grim as they left that burning village behind them; his friend's mood was very familiar to Iolaus and, as he had done so many times before, he kept talking, reminding Hercules of their earliest adventures, and of happier days.
A shrill cry reached them, echoing through the woodland. Not a scream: a battle cry Iolaus knew well. "Leipephile," he said, an edge of panic already in his voice.
"I guessed." Hercules threw the words back over his shoulder: he was already running toward the sound.
There were four of them. Leipephile's whirling staff held them off, but it wouldn't work for long. They were armed with swords.
When she saw Hercules appear at the edge of the trees, she had never been so pleased to see anyone.
He called out to attract their attention. "Hey! Fellas! I don't think the lady wants company."
Two of them broke off and attacked Hercules. Leipephile didn't have time to admire the demi-god in action: her own brief moment of distraction allowed another of the men to duck under her guard. Pain exploded as he kicked her in the side. With an effort, she stayed on her feet, bringing her staff to bear. Too late: a hand gripped her throat and she felt the sharp touch of steel at her neck.
Then the knife fell from the man's hand.
Unexpectedly free, Leipephile turned and saw her father there with a bow, his arrow deep in the body of the man who'd grabbed her.
"Leipephile!"
She heard Hercules' shouted warning and whirled, automatically striking out with her weapon. The tip of the staff cracked her attacker squarely at the side of his neck, and he went down. She gripped the staff, ready for another attack. Hercules and her father were the only ones left standing.
Leipephile lowered the staff to the ground, suddenly, overwhelmingly tired. The enormity of what had just happened came crashing in. She could have been killed. And she had... Oh, gods. Leipephile looked down at the body of a man lying at her feet. His neck was broken. She stared.
Hercules' hand warm upon her arm made her look up. She met his compassionate gaze blankly. "First time?" he surmised.
Leipephile nodded. The smell of blood reached her nose, and she choked on it. She fell weakly to her knees, her stomach violently rejecting her breakfast.
"Herc, we'd better not hang around here." Iolaus was looking nervously down the road. He wasn't ignoring Leipephile, but he couldn't afford to help her this time. His daughter wanted to be a warrior. Her desire had brought her to this moment. How she dealt with it - with her own first kill, and with having seen him kill for her - would determine a great deal of her future. With an effort, Iolaus made himself seem uninterested.
Which left it to Hercules, who knew exactly what his friend was trying to do. "Are you up to it?" he asked Leipephile kindly.
Leipephile stared up at him for a moment, then she pulled herself together. "I'm ready," she said firmly.
Hercules knelt beside the man she had killed. He wore a red band of cloth at his right shoulder. Hercules ripped it from the body, stood up, and led them away from the scene.
Minutes later they were running.
Hercules would normally have stood and fought, but with two others to protect he had to find another way. Until he thought of one, run would have to do. He glanced back over his shoulder...they were outrunning pursuit, but it wouldn't make a difference. That damn horse left a trail any fool could follow.
"The trees," Leipephile gasped, beside him.
Hercules glanced back again. "Good idea." He stopped running, pulling on the reins of Iolaus' horse to slow that, too. Iolaus jumped down; Hercules lifted his friend into the branches above them. Leipephile followed: she needed no help. Hercules slapped the horse hard on its rump, sending it off at a gallop, hopefully to distract their pursuers. Then he started to climb himself.
They watched tensely from above as Darius' men ran beneath the tree, following the horse's trail. Their clumsy ruse appeared to have worked.
"You were right," Leipephile admitted.
"Right about what?" Hercules asked, though he knew what she meant.
"Having a skill isn't the same as using it," she said. Her eyes were deep violet in the firelight. "I always knew that, of course. How could I not, growing up with mother's stories and yours." She smiled wanly at Iolaus. "But I thought I could do it."
"And now?" Iolaus asked her.
"What?"
Hercules answered her question gently. "Iolaus is asking if you could do it again. It's an important question, Leipephile. You wanted to be a warrior. How do you feel now you've had a taste?"
"I..." she hesitated. "He would have killed me."
"Yes. Or worse," Hercules agreed. He silenced Iolaus with a gesture behind Leipephile's back.
"Then I wasn't wrong to kill him."
"What do you think?"
She raised her chin, and both men saw something of defiance in her eyes. "I think I could do it again. But...I'm not sure I want to." She met Hercules' gaze firmly.
He said, "Iolaus and Gabrielle did a good job." His eyes flickered to look at his friend, then back to her. "You have a lot to learn, kid. But I have a feeling...in eight or ten years I'll be proud to have you at my side." He saw her perk up and added quickly, "That's not a promise. I want you to grow up. Learn what you can from Gabrielle, especially after today. Then, if you still want to see the world..."
"Are you still going to make me go home?" Leipephile asked him.
Hercules looked at Iolaus. "I should," he said.
Iolaus frowned. "I have a feeling it's too late for that."
"I hate to say it, but you're right. We're through the lines of Darius' army now...and Mycenae's a lot closer than your home. You'd both be safer right now if you come with me the rest of the way."
Leipephile smiled widely. "I can live with that."
Mycenae was a fortified city. The walls were three feet thick, and among the highest in Greece. The gates, too, looked pretty solid, twelve feet high. Above the gates a brightly coloured banner hung from the parapet. Iolaus looked up at the banner shining in the noon sun...and did a double take.
"Hercules..."
Hercules looked around, and followed Iolaus' gaze. "Oh. Didn't I mention that?" he asked, falsely innocent.
Iolaus wasn't amused. "You knew!" he accused. "You knew and you didn't tell me."
"I didn't think you'd be with me this far. Anyway, I told you I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't my brother's last request. You just didn't ask why." Hercules started to walk toward the city gates. "Iolaus," he said over his shoulder, "can we argue about this later? Come on."
Iolaus sighed heavily and started after Hercules.
Leipephile caught her father's arm. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.
Iolaus turned back to her briefly. "I'm disappointed in you, Leipe. You think you're ready to travel with him?"
"Yes!" she said defiantly.
"Then you ought to recognise the sign of Hera when you see it. Look at that banner. He's walking straight into a city controlled by the queen of the gods."
Hercules didn't give his name to the guards that let them into the city. He simply told them he was the brother of King Iphicles. He didn't really want word getting out that Hercules was in Mycenae. But his deliberate evasion amused Iolaus no end.
"Last time I was here," Hercules explained to them, "I got Hera's own welcome." And that was all he would say on the subject.
They walked through the market looking for an inn. There was a tension in the air that told him the city knew war was coming. The prices in the market were high, and the goods on sale inferior. Men wore weapons on display. People weren't gossiping in the streets, just occasionally exchanging a few words and hurrying on. There were very few children.
Through a crowd of people, Hercules heard the laughter of a child: it attracted his attention for a second and he glanced over. A woman was lifting the child in her arms and her face caught his eye. Hercules stopped and stared for a moment, but whoever she was, she was gone. He shrugged, dismissing the sudden flash of a familiar face, and walked on.
But as they entered the inn nearest the market square he saw her again - or thought he saw her - just a quick view of a face he recognised before she was lost from sight again. He frowned. What would she be doing here? He half-turned, as if to follow her before he thought the better of it.
"Herc? What is it?" Iolaus asked.
He was frowning. "Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I know, that's all."
"Mortal or immortal?" Iolaus challenged.
Hercules grinned at him, letting that be his answer. They found themselves a table at the inn, and ordered some food. Then Hercules stood up to leave. "I can't relax until I've found Ganeda," he told them. "Try and stay out of trouble."
Iolaus winked at him. "You, too. We'll be waiting here."
Leipephile came back to the table with three mugs of mead. She watched Hercules as he left the inn. "He's a great man," she said softly.
Iolaus nodded. "Yes, he is."
"What warrior wouldn't want to be immortal," his daughter went on, sampling the mead gingerly.
Iolaus turned his head and stared at her. "Immortal, is he?" He sighed, looking back to the door through which Hercules had left. "You don't know him so well, Leipe. Every time he loses someone, he dies a little more. Jason, his mother, now Iphicles. Hercules isn't the same man I grew up with."
Leipephile frowned at her father's uncharacteristically sombre mood. "I just meant..."
Iolaus forced a smile. "I know what you meant. At your age, everyone thinks they're immortal. And we all learn different, sooner or later."
Ganeda was a king's daughter, so the logical place to start looking would be the King's palace. It had been several years since Hercules had dealt with Mycenae's king...and their dealings had not been exactly cordial, though they had parted - if not as friends - at least not as enemies. He wasn't certain of that, however, and he was prepared for trouble as he walked quickly through the city streets.
That sixth sense that had saved his life so many times warned him again. Hercules spun round, a hand out to catch the arrow speeding toward him. His fist closed on the shaft...and the arrow transformed. He was holding a long-stemmed flower, a narcissus. Looking beyond it, not sure whether to be angry or amused, he saw the laughing face he now expected.
Hercules couldn't suppress his smile as he strolled over to where the young woman - she had the appearance of a woman of about eighteen - leaned against a wall, still giggling. She wore green and gold, with a thick mane of auburn hair tumbling down her back. Her green eyes and pointed chin gave her a pixyish look, something she deliberately exploited with her harmless practical jokes and her ever-ready laughter.
With an exaggeratedly gallant gesture, Hercules presented the flower in his hand to her. "Yours, I believe," he said dryly. "Little sister, someday your games are going to get me killed."
Her merry laughter trailed off. "If I thought I could kill you, Hercules, I wouldn't play," she said impudently. She took his big hand in her tiny one and walked beside him, leading him through the city.
"What are you doing here, anyway, Hebe?" Hercules sighed inwardly, going along with her. His young half-sister, her smiles and laughter more dangerous weapons than his fabled strength, seemed able to disarm him, no matter how hard he tried to resist her charms.
"Looking for you."
"For me? Why?"
"You are needed. To help these people." Hebe's gesture encompassed the whole city.
Was she serious? "Hebe, you overestimate me. I've stopped wars before, sure, but nothing like this." He frowned at her serious expression. "What has King Eurystheus done to provoke this anyway?" He saw her triumph in her eyes as he asked the question, and knew he was on the edge of agreeing to help...again.
The young goddess seemed reluctant to answer. She bit her lip a little before she admitted, "That's the problem. It's not Eurystheus' fault that Mycenae is the battleground. This is a war between the gods."
Hercules threw up his hands. "Then there really is nothing I can do. I'm pleased that you care, little sister, but I can't get involved. Why don't you take it up with Zeus?"
"Hear me out, Hercules," she begged. Hebe was still leading him through the streets; to where, he didn't know. "Ares has three armies marching on this city. Hercules, you know what his warlords can do. You know how Ares makes war. If the gods weren't interfering, it would be a slaughter. But whichever way you look at it, Mycenae is in a lot of trouble." Hebe's walk slowed and she looked up at him nervously.
"Sure," he agreed. "The gods start fighting and not one of them cares how many mortals get caught in their crossfire. I remember what Troy used to be, Hebe. You don't have to tell me." His voice was bitter.
She was silent, watching him, waiting for him to see where they were.
Hercules frowned. "Hebe, I came here to find Ganeda. That's what I have to do. If I start battling Ares now..." Why was she looking past him? "I'm sorry." Hercules glanced behind him, following her gaze. And did a double take when he saw where she had brought him. "Hebe. Don't even think about it."
"She just wants to talk to you, Hercules..."
"No way." He began to walk back the way they had come. "I can't believe you even thought..." he started angrily.
"I didn't! I'm doing as I was told, that's all." Hebe followed him, grabbing at his arm to slow him down. "This is the only chance you're going to get, Hercules. Talk to her. Hear what she has to say. No one can force you to do what she wants. Hercules, please."
He had turned back to her, his face a mask of anger and hurt. He reached out and took her shoulders in his hands, not roughly, but firmly. "I can't, Hebe. I thought you of all people would understand why."
Hebe stopped. The young goddess drew her dignity around her like a cloak, stepping back from him slightly. "That," she said softly, "is why you must."
Hercules looked at her for a long moment. Then he stalked away from her...up the steps and into Hera's temple.
Hera's temples were something Hercules generally avoided. The steps led him up to double doors, which stood open. The spicy scent of incense and charcoal greeted him as he walked into the dimly-lit building. The first thing he saw was the carved peacock below her altar...how many of those had he smashed in his life? Above the altar towered a statue of the goddess, the stern features illuminated by the altar's perpetual flame. There was no sign of priests, or temple guards.
From a shadowed alcove behind the statue, a woman came toward him. She wore a long gown of blue and green, which concealed her entire body while clinging to her curves enticingly. She wore a wide collar of gold; her long red-brown hair coiled on top of her head, held in a jewelled net.
She walked, almost gliding, toward him, her eyes never leaving his. And it was the eyes he recognised: dark eyes, the blue-green of peacock feathers in their depths. Hercules had seen those eyes in the heavens so many times; he had seen Hera behind the eyes of Hippolyta, the Amazon Queen he had loved and lost to her spite; but he had never seen Hera, herself, face to face. She always worked indirectly, through others. This time, she was really here.
And the desire to smash his fist into that hateful, beautiful face was almost overwhelming. With great effort, he controlled his hate. "Hera," he said, allowing no emotion at all into his voice.
She inclined her head in acknowledgement, but didn't speak. She seemed to be waiting for something.
He spoke again. "Hebe said you wanted to talk. Consider it a favour to her that I'm here at all. I'm not in a mood for small talk, Hera. What is it you want?" She was less than two feet away from him. She was almost his height: their eyes were level. He could reach out now...
And she spoke. "I want you to stay and save my city." Her voice reminded him uncomfortably of Xena's: low pitched and throaty.
He waited the space of three heartbeats. "Go to Hades," he spat and began to walk away.
His path was blocked by an invisible wall. He turned back to her, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. "Oh, that's a great way to get my co-operation, Hera."
"Hercules," she said, her voice as sweet and smooth as honey. "Champion of the weak, defender of the innocent. Is this how you answer a call for help?"
Champion... Hera had called him that once before, when he fought her in the Amazons' forest minutes before she murdered a man and destroyed the woman he loved. Hercules' blue eyes narrowed. "You are neither weak nor innocent, and you don't need my help."
"These people do."
"Go to Hades," he retorted. "I don't know what kind of game you and my no-good brother are playing, but leave me out of it."
"I cannot leave you out of it, and war is no game." Those peacock eyes flashed in anger. Hercules braced himself for the inevitable attack, but it never came. Instead she was visibly struggling to control her fury. Eventually, she said to him, "If Ares wins, there will be a slaughter such as this world has never seen. Whatever you think of me, Hercules, I don't like needless deaths."
"Needless deaths?" He repeated her words incredulously. He couldn't believe she'd said that. And he couldn't believe he'd actually started to listen to her. This was the murdering witch who'd killed his wife and children. "Needless deaths," he said again. "What of the sacrifices you enjoy so much? Aren't those needless deaths?" All the anger and bitterness he had tried so hard to hold back erupted, threatening to choke him. He could hold back no longer.
It was with words, not fists, that he attacked.
"You want to know about needless deaths? Hippolyta: I carried what was left of her body back from the rocks beneath the waterfall. Pithus: he had a son you orphaned just because he was brave enough to stand up to you. Nessus: he was a good man until you twisted his soul." The list didn't end there. Hercules kept going; all the people he had known in his life who had lost their lives to Hera.
The goddess did not interrupt him, or try to defend herself. She waited, listening to his rage, her stance regal, those startling eyes unreadable.
"Is that enough?" he challenged her finally. "Maybe it's not. Those people weren't real to you, were they? Just names. Mortals. Playthings. How about a name you will recognise? Aeson. Klonus. Ilea." His children. "Deianeira." His beautiful wife. He stopped speaking, the anger, for the moment, spent. He knew she'd got the message.
Hera moved toward him and lifted her proud face to his, close enough for him to touch her. "Would you have me bring them back?" she hissed. "If that's the price of your help, I will do it."
He froze. It was over twenty years since the terrible night when he'd lost his family. And in more than twenty years he had never managed to conquer the pain of their loss. To have them back again... But this was Hera talking.
"That's impossible, and we both know it," he told her, and each word was a poisoned blade in his soul. "Even you are subject to the Fates, Hera. They would never tolerate such a disruption in their threads." Only knowing how much Hera would enjoy his pain stopped him from showing it.
"That is true," she confessed mildly. She looked down; if he hadn't known better he would have said she looked ashamed. "Nevertheless, I will pay any price you name."
He almost marched out of the temple in that moment. Then his pain and anger dissolved as a disturbing thought occurred. Cursing himself for a fool, he asked the question:
"Hera, why? What has Ares done that would make you so desperate?"
A moment's silence, and she answered. "It's what he will do. Ares wants the world, and he wants it his way."
"And I suppose it's purely out of goodness and compassion that you want to stop him," he burst out sarcastically.
"I already have the world, Hercules," she said silkily. "I'm the Queen of the Gods."
"Then you don't need me." He turned away, determined to leave this time if he had to smash her temple into rubble to do so.
She appeared in his path. "What happened to Troy will happen to all of Greece. Mycenae is just the beginning, chosen as the battleground because I opposed my son. The coming battle will be decisive: if Ares can be defeated here, he loses forever. Zeus determined the rules for this war. I have one chance: you."
"Hera," he said, exasperated, "one more warrior won't turn back an army led by Ares." He waited for her to argue, but she said nothing. Clearly, she was holding back some information...perhaps she planned to tell him the truth only after he was committed.
There was nothing left to say, no more arguments. He had to make a decision. But there was no decision for him to make, really. Or rather, his choice had been made on the night Deianeira died.
"You should have left my family alone," he said flatly. Finally.
She met his hate-filled gaze regally. Almost regretfully, she said, "Then I have beaten you, and the world has lost. An empty victory, Hercules." Hera vanished.
His mouth set in a grim line, Hercules stalked out of her temple.