Heavy clouds hung over the mountains, and tendrils of mist drifted into the valleys, images of far off rain. The day was bleak, damp and cold...fitting, Fitch thought, as he gazed into the distance. The tall, elegant, ebony Dragon King shrugged his wings in irritation and impatience. 'That fool Padraic,' he thought in exasperation, 'what has possessed him to bring us to the brink of civil war?'
There had been no wars between dragons for, what? Five thousand years? A long, long time anyway...but not so long that the tales had been forgotten. No...such chaos and bloodshed would never, could never, be forgotten. It was a tale all young dragons were taught, with exquisite details of the tragedies and horrors which had occurred, so that none would ever grow up believing that war, of any kind, was glorious. There was once a time when dragons had ruled the world...they had numbered in the tens of thousands. But, when the war was over, there had only been a few hundred dragons left...they had almost completely extinguished their own species. The reasons for the devastating conflict had been lost in the mists of time...only the horrific results were remembered. Those who remained had found refuge on Dragon Island...largely because it was so inhospitable that no other creatures wanted it, or could last long in its craggy, volatile volcanic environment of thick forests on steep slopes, snow crested peaks and blackened, sharp, lava washed plains. Now, after so many thousands of years, there were again hundreds of dragons on the island. Their species was again secure...but, it would not remain so if a devastating war dessimated their numbers. And so, through the centuries, dragons had schooled themselves to despise war, to avoid it at all costs.
For many hundreds of years, dragons had lived peacefully together. They hunted their food, raised their young, and debated esoteric concepts about the meaning of life and the nature of the world. Dragons tended to be philosophers, prizing learning and the eloquent expression of ideas. They also enjoyed beauty around them. Although they did not mine precious metals themselves, they had discovered an almost uncanny talent to forge delicate objects using their own natural source of fire, and their amazing dexterity with their claws. Goblets and chalices, bowls and jewelry were crafted both for their own use and to trade with mortals. They also wove complex and colourful tapestries, carpets, blankets and table coverings from wool and flax they imported from the mainland. It was a simple, uncomplicated life, but one which was satisfying for most, if not all.
Oh, it wasn't that dragons didn't have tempers, or that they didn't suffer mean emotions like jealousy or hate, but, they were taught to control such emotions, curb their foul influence, less they once again descend into the firestorm of war. When there was no other alternative, dragons fought, sometimes, but not with one another. They fought with humans who seemed to be born to hate and fear dragons...and, who, consequently, seemed always ready to go on dragon hunts, to take over their domain on Dragon Island...always ready to kill them. So, dragons fought when it was necessary, in defence, for self preservation...but, they never took war to others...war was something they despised.
But, now, it was beginning again. What could have possessed Padraic to do this? Fitch reflected on his cousin, and realized the answer wasn't that hard to see. Padraic had always been impatient and had chafed under the directions and decisions of others. He was wilful, quick to irritation, and had always felt he was not accorded his rightful place...but, then, he evidently thought his rightful place was on the throne...which was out of the question.
Padraic had been particularly incensed by Fitch's tolerance of mortals. It didn't matter to him that trade had improved, and with it, attacks and squirmishes with mortals had significantly declined while the quality of life for dragonkind had steadily gotten better. No, none of that mattered. In Padraic's view, mortals were worse than the rous...rats of unusual size...which preyed upon unguarded dragon eggs, murdering the young before they were hatched. There had been too many centuries of war between dragonkind and humankind for Padraic, or many other dragons for that matter, to be agreeable to a closer relationship between the two very different communities of beings.
All of this tension had led to Padraic breaking away from his cousin three weeks before, vowing to take the throne and to make war on all humankind. He had been drawing other dragons to his cause, largely either young ones, seeking adventure or old ones, scarred by the wars with the humans over the decades, and wanting vengence. Fitch was certain they could not be far away from a rebel attack...there had been skirmishes already above the border lands, there had been casualties, but...he didn't know how soon a full assault on Tarsus might be launched. He didn't know how many rebels there were. And, he didn't know whom he could trust.
"By the Eternal Dragon, I need information!" muttered Fitch. In any conflict, information was vital and precious. Without it, enemies could be underestimated...and losses extreme. Without it, there was no way to know if there was any hope of finding a way out of this swamp.
"Sire?" came the attentive enquiry...Hal had heard the King mutter, but hadn't heard the words.
Fitch turned to gaze at his most trusted advisor, a large brown and silver dragon, and sighed. "Nothing, Hal," he replied. "I was just cursing our lack of information." Fitch shook his head wearily. Those he could trust were too well known to Padraic to infiltrate his lair and learn his plans...and, there was no way of knowing who might be trusted within his larger group of advisers, or indeed anywhere in Tarsus. It was the particular tragedy of civil war...that even brothers did not know if they could trust one another.
Hal frowned as he thought about the problem. He could guess at the King's thoughts, and regretted there was no one in Tarsus, no one on the whole island for that matter, he could think of to take on the dangerous, but essential, role of spy. Their situation was particularly dangerous because he knew, as did all the principal advisers, that Padraic had spies in their midst. They just didn't know who they were...and, you couldn't assume someone was a spy. The insult might well make a loyal dragon rethink his or her allegiances.
Hal's head suddenly lifted, as if he was listening to something...as, in fact, he was. He was listening to his heart. "Sire, I know of someone we could ask...actually, I know of two we can trust without question."
Fitch wrinkled the ridge over one great eye in unspoken enquiry.
"My brothers, Sire...we could ask them for help," Hal explained, wondering why he hadn't thought of them before.
Fitch co*cked his head. "But...you don't have any brothers."
Hal smiled, his eyes whirling...and Fitch understood. "Ah...of course...why didn't I thinkof them?"
"Shall I go to them, Sire?"
"Hmm," Fitch pondered a moment, his green eyes whirling, then brought his piercing gaze back to Hal's. "Yes, Hal...by all means...ask if they will see me...I will explain what I need of them...and the risks this may hold, particularly for the mortal."
Hal bowed his head and left the massive King's Hall, the largest hall in a warren of chambers and tunnels in the King's mountain fortress. Risks. He hadn't thought of the risks.
Padraic studied the goddess from the mountain called Olympus. He had been suspicious of her, at first, and was still not entirely comfortable with their relationship. He'd never really understood why she had sought him out, and offered to aid him in taking the throne of Dragon Island. She'd promised him power over all the dragons...and, she seemed to have as much contempt for mortals as he did. They had that much in common, at least.
Hera smiled at the dragon before her. She had been careful to keep the size in which she manifested just slightly smaller than the dragon...she did not want to intimidate him, not yet at least, but neither did she wish to appear small or insignificant. She was the Queen of the Gods...insignificant was not a look she wore well. Padraic was large as dragons go, although she'd seen bigger ones...his lieutenant, for example, Morgoth, was immense. Still, the green dragon in front of her was impressive. But, what she appreciated most about Padraic was his short sighted stupidity. The moron had not stopped to consider why she might be helping him...what was in it for her. But, then, the ambitious seldom did...they could see only their own plans. Their own dreams. And, that suited her just fine.
"You've done well, Padraic," she commended him, "in bringing so many to your side in such a short time." Padraic's force numbered more than eighty...not yet enough for an all out war, but enough for costly raids on Tarsus, and the mountain communities scattered about the island. Hera knew Fitch was in no hurry to carry the war to them...the fool still hoped to avoid this conflagration. That was his weakness, and their opportunity.
Padraic nodded his head slightly. "Why have you come?" he asked. One of the things he did not care for about this goddess, was her propensity to show up unannounced, unexpected, uninvited...and usually unwanted. However, she could be a strong ally, and he was loathe to alienate her.
"I bring you good news," Hera crooned. "First, my son, Ares, the God of War, has agreed to join our alliance. He brings many talents, not least of which is his ability to fan the fires of war between mortals. Second, the cities which worship me, and those that worship Ares, are preparing for war with those who do not." She smiled.
Padraic looked at her quizzically. "And, this is good news because...?"
By the peaco*ck, he was stupid, she thought, but her smile remained fixed in place. "Because a war amongst the major states of Greece will weaken them... once they have squandered their blood on one another it will make it that much easier for you to conquer them all when the time comes."
Ah...now he understood. Part of the temptation Hera had offered was that she would help him not only achieve the throne of Dragon Island, but that she would give him power over all of Greece. The idea of mortals slaving for him had always been a favourite fantasy.
"You are truly my friend," he replied, gratified.
"Just keep believing that, Padraic...just keep believing that," she crooned again, reassuringly. With the power the dragons would give her, nothing could stop her from taking over the world. Either she would allow the dragons to conquer the mortals...certainly, the dragons would be easy for her to control with an imbecile like this on their throne. Or, she would offer her support, and that of Ares, to the mortals, to stave off the dragons...for a price...the price of their wealth and worship...the price of their souls. No need to decide which way to play it yet. Either way, she won. Her smile had a distinctly predatory look, which gave Padraic momentary pause...but, he shrugged it off. He wasn't that experienced in reading the faces of mortals or their gods...no doubt, that was simply her look of satisfaction.
"This could shape up to be a real mess," Iolaus muttered, as they loped along the road from Corinth to Argos.
Hercules glanced over at his best friend, and agreed, "Sometimes, Iolaus, you have a real gift of understatement...not often, I admit, but 'mess' hardly begins to describe it."
Iolaus grimaced, and picked up his pace a little. Tensions had suddenly started to build all throughout Greece, but the reasons were far from clear. While there was no indication that war was imminent, Iphicles had asked them to journey to Argos to see if they could persuade that City to join with Corinth in the event hostilities broke out. As a King, he could not afford to overlook the fact that other cities were restocking their armouries as if they were preparing for war. Iphicles didn't need to know all the whys and wherefores before he took action to protect his own people. So far, there were only rumours...and cities seemed to be aligning along the lines of which gods they worshipped. These rumours seemed to follow on rumours of unrest between the dragons on Dragon Island...but, why that should have any implications for the cities of Greece was a mystery.
Iolaus and Herc didn't usually hold with war...well, actually, they never supported the idea of war, preferring instead to find less bloody solutions to problems and conflicts. But, they couldn't stop a war when they didn't know what was causing it...and so far, there were only tensions, suspicions...nothing to really argue against, nothing to diffuse. They suspected Hera or Ares were up to something...but the question was, what? Since Olympian Gods had nothing to do with dragons, the link with what was supposedly going on over Dragon Island only made everything more confusing.
"I don't understand it, Herc," Iolaus mused, as he jogged along the dusty road which cut between the mountains in the northeast sector of the Pelopponese.
"Understand what?" queried Hercules, loping easily at his side.
"Well...from all the rumours, it sounds like the root of all this is on Dragon Island...but, the dragons haven't fought for thousands of years...and, they've never fought with mortal allies. And, their gods are different from our's. It doesn't make any sense."
"No...it doesn't...but, if Hera's involved, you can bet whatever's going on is to further her agenda. Some poor dragon doesn't know it, but, she's using him for her own ends. I'd be willing to bet on it!"
Iolaus snorted, "With what?"
Herc chuckled with him. True...as usual, they didn't have a dinar between them.
Iolaus suddenly drew up short, his eyes on the sky. Hercules had loped some feet further along, before he slowed to a stop and turned to see what had caught Iolaus' attention.
"Dragon," Iolaus said quietly, his hand on his sword. 'Friend or foe?' he wondered, readying himself to roll from a blast of fire, if need be. Tensions had eased between dragons and mortals over the past five years, but with the rumours, he couldn't be sure whether the long truce was still in force. However, as the dot in the sky grew larger, he relaxed, and caught Hercules' eye, grinning broadly.
"Hal," Herc said with a smile, as the brown and silver dragon drew closer.
"Yep," replied Iolaus, waving, "maybe now we'll find out what's going on."
As he drew in for a landing, Hal semifurled his wings to slow his speed. He'd been pleased to find Hercules and Iolaus as quickly as he had, flying high over the mountains and plains of Greece, his uncanny sight scanning the land and trails below. Dropping lightly to the ground, he inclined his head in greeting, "Brothers," he said, with evident warmth.
Iolaus grinned broadly up at the huge dragon. "Brother," he replied formally, then moved forward to give the dragon a quick hug...Hal had sponsored him and Hercules into the dragon community, becoming their adopted brother. By doing so, he had made Iolaus and Hercules brothers of the dragon blood...something he and Herc didn't talk much about, but which had meant the world to both of them. Not just to be dragons, as truly amazing as that had been, but to be brothers of the blood.
"How's that beautiful wife of yours?" Iolaus asked with a teasing light in his eyes...he'd always liked Ludmilla...and Iolaus got a kick out of how Hal still blushed whenever he thought of her. Hal ducked his head, and he quivered a little. Iolaus eyes' clouded. "There's nothing wrong, is there?" he asked anxiously...other than a pending war beyond all mortal imagining.
Hal looked back up and shook his head, and smiled, if a dragon could be said to smile, his eyes glowing brightly. "No...not wrong...wonderful...we have two eggs in our nest!"
Iolaus whooped and pounded his brother dragon on the back...well, at least as high up as he could reach. "That's great news! Congratulations!" while Hercules grinned broadly as he cried warmly, "That's wonderful Hal, really wonderful news!"
Hal blushed again and bowed to the enthusiastic response of both Iolaus and Hercules. They were family...he'd been anxious to share the news with them.
"Hal," Hercules said quietly, his face sobering to a look of concern, moving to put a friendly hand on the dragon's foreleg, "what are you doing here when you should probably be at home?"
"Looking for you," Hal replied. Iolaus and Hercules exchanged glances, then turned back to the dragon.
"Well, you found us...what can we do for you? And, what's going on over on Dragon Island...the rumours don't sound good!" Iolaus replied.
Hal bowed his head again, this time in regret. "Things aren't good, Iolaus...we are on the edge of war...and you never want to know what a war between dragons is like." Hal shuddered, then realized he still had not told them why he had been searching for them. "Fitch has asked to see the two of you...he's hoping you'll agree to help..."
Herc smiled. "Fitch knows better than to 'hope'...of course we'll help, if we can..."
"Yah," agreed Iolaus, "we don't want a war amongst dragons anymore than you do." Iolaus had heard the ancient stories and never wanted to see a firestreaked sky, with blackened bodies dropping, or the raging flames of a world set ablaze by the firestorm of dragon warfare. And, if Herc was right, if Hera was involved, and the problems on Dragon Island were somehow influencing Greece, well, the war could erupt beyond the realm of dragons, consuming the world of mortals as well.
Hal bobbed his head, and shuffled a bit, obviously uncomfortable. "Don't agree too quickly...you need to...well, Fitch wants to explain it to you." He crouched low to the ground, to allow the small beings to climb up on his back. Hercules hooked his hands together to support one of Iolaus' feet to give him a boost up, then careful of Hal's wing, he pulled himself up onto the dragon's back, sliding into position behind his friend.
"Well, let's not keep Fitch waiting," Hercules said. He and Iolaus had both caught the hesitation...there was going to be something about all of this that they weren't going to like.
Iolaus felt the rush of the wind through his hair, and he laughed for the pure delight of flying. His hand resting lightly on the ridge at the base of Hal's neck, his legs gripping his brother's sinewy body, he rode with his back straight, confidently, the same way he rode a horse. Without needing to turn around, he could sense his buddy was sitting rigidly, not particularly comfortable with this mode of transportation... but then, Herc didn't like being on a horse either.
Iolaus studied the terrain below, marvelling at the speed with which Hal could travel, his great wings pumping to catch the air and drive them high and fast. "Relax, Herc," he shouted into the wind, "and enjoy the ride!"
Hercules scanned the mountains and valleys below them. "Easy for you to say," he muttered. Herc had discovered he very much liked to fly...he just liked to use his own wings when he did it. He knew, then, he could control his speed, decide where, how high and how long he flew...he didn't like being out of control...he didn't like riding, being a passenger, subject to another being's decisions and actions.
Iolaus heard the mutter, and laughed again. Poor Herc just didn't know how to relax and enjoy himself, which was truly amazing, given the example Iolaus had set all these years! Giggling at that thought, Iolaus closed his eyes, feeling the strength of the dragon below him, the sun on his face...and remembered the intoxicating feeling of flying under the silver light of the moon. Gods, he wished he could do that again.
In less than three hours, Hal had conveyed them Dragon Island. He flew low over the mountainous volcanic cones that separated the turquoise sea from Tarsus, the Island's capital, gliding under the heavy, grey clouds. Tarsus had been chosen centuries before because the volcanoes in that area were extinct, allowing the dragons to take up residence in the plethora of natural caves, connected to one another by what had been lava tunnels. Most of the dragon population lived in this area, because the hunting was good in the forests on the sides of the mountains. However, now that the dragon population was growing again, there were much smaller, scattered colonies of dragons dotted around the Island, usually in the most remote of regions, far from the threat of mortal encroachment.
Shortly thereafter, they were soaring in to land at Fitch's mountain fortress in the bowels of an extinct volcano, a location both Iolaus and Hercules had become very familiar with during the protracted negotiations of a new treaty between the dragons and their mortal neighbours. The dragons had gotten their Dragon Stone back, more brilliant and beautiful, more powerful than ever, restored by the love and loyalty in the hearts and souls of the men who rode his back. Hercules and Iolaus did not pretend to understand the full significance of the Dragon Stone, but they sensed it had something to do with the dragons' religious ceremonies...a tangible link with their gods. The treaty they had helped negotiate was a good one, fair to both sides, and had been in place for five years now.
This war could see it all come apart.
Once they had coasted to a landing on a broad ledge on the side of the mountain fortress, Iolaus and Hercules slipped from Hal's back and followed him through the tunnels and chambers, brightly lit with torches in silver sconces, to the King's Hall. Fitch, and Abercrombie who was with the King, looked up at their entrance. The heroes broke into smiles at the sight of their old friends, but, the sober light in the eyes of the King immediately caught their attention.
"Your Highness," Iolaus said somberly, flourishing one arm as he bent low in a formal bow.
Fitch snorted, a slight puff of smoke showing his goodhumoured indignation. "Don't start that, 'Your Highness' nonsense with me, Iolaus...I'm Fitch to friends and family, and you know it."
Iolaus looked up, grinning...ah, good, the weary, sober look in Fitch's eyes had lightened...and then the King snorted again, realizing he'd been gently manipulated, albeit for his own good. He narrowed one twirling green eye, for all the world saying, "Don't mess with me, young man," but Iolaus only giggled... irrepressible as ever. Nothing ever seemed to intimidate this little, vulnerable mortal...and Fitch loved him for it.
Relenting, Fitch also chuckled and bade them enter, thanking Hal for having found them so quickly...and thanking them for coming.
"Hal said we could be of help," Hercules said, wanting to move the conversation along to the specifics, and to learn more about what had made Hal seem so uncomfortable and reticent, just before they had taken off.
Iolaus had ambled over to stand beside Abercrombie, a truly huge old dragon, casting a bright grin up at the dragon, then leaned up against him, one elbow resting on the dragon's foreleg in a companiable manner. Abercrombie inclined his head, lightly brushing the mortal's golden hair with his chin. He'd never forgotten his sense of wonder that this small mortal had not only not been afraid of him...but had helped him when he was bound and injured...with no hesitation...clearly without even thinking about it. Abercrombie's leg had been festering from the damage caused by a manacle when he, and other dragons, not to mention Hercules and Iolaus, had been held captive by the late, unlamented mortal king from the mainland. He had needed help, so Iolaus had helped him...that was it, as far as Iolaus was concerned, no big deal...he'd have done the same for anyone, or any hurt creature. Iolaus really didn't think he'd done anything special, and had no idea of the impact that gesture had had, not only for Abercrombie, but for all the dragons who had heard the story. Certainly, he and others had heard the stories Braxus told about his two friends, Hercules and Iolaus, and how they had rescued him, but most believed the stories were only youthful exaggeration. No mortal had ever helped him, or any other fullgrown dragon, before...and, in that moment, Iolaus had won Abercrombie's loyalty forever...and had become a legend on Dragon Island.
Iolaus didn't know he was a legend...and would only have snorted at the idea. He never had quite understood the impact he had on dragons...or on other mortals, sentient monsters or even gods for that matter. The only thing that made Iolaus feel special in his own mind was his friendship with Hercules...and that was only because Herc was special...beyond special. Herc was the foundation of his life, the reason he lived and breathed. And, well, that Hercules had long ago chosen him to be the demigod's best friend made Iolaus feel more humble, and grateful, than anything...no, he wasn't special... just a guy who enjoyed a good time, who tried to do the right thing...and who would protect his friend with his life.
However, before Fitch could begin to explain why he had sent for them, Iolaus felt Abercrombie tense, and without even thinking about it, he dove to the side, somersaulting to land on his feet a safe distance away, just as the dragon erupted with an immense sneeze, unleashing unintentional smoke and flames...not a lot by dragon standards, perhaps, but Iolaus had learned to respect those sneezes!
"Oh! Excuse me! I am sorry...did I hurt you, Iolaus?" cried Abercrombie, quite flustered and humiliated by his persistent sinus condition. Such a bother growing old!
Iolaus caught Herc's amused eye and chuckled as he waved his hands in front of his face, dissipating the smoke. "Nope...you didn't get me!" But, then, seeing the chagrined apology in his old friend's eyes, Iolaus' smile disappeared, to be replaced by a look of sincere concern. "Seriously, Abercrombie...no harm done. But... isn't there something that could help you? I hate sneezing...and you can't enjoy it much either!"
Abercrombie shook his large head, and sniffed, "No, it seems there's little I can do...you'll just have to keep ducking, I'm afraid...I'm sorry."
Iolaus grinned up at him, "No problem...it's good for the reflexes!" At that point, the pair of them realized all the eyes in the room were on them as Fitch waited, with illdisguised impatience, to continue his explanation of the problems they were challenged with on Dragon Island. Like recalcitrant children, both Iolaus and Abercrombie ducked their heads, swallowed grins, and turned all of their attention to Fitch, Iolaus once again leaning on Abercrombie's foreleg.
The Dragon King shook his head at their antics. Abercrombie's sneezing and Iolaus' acrobatic avoidance tactics caused much amusem*nt for all whenever the two heroes visited Dragon Island, but Fitch didn't feel like being amused any more that afternoon. The problems were too serious and time was of the essence.
Fitch studied Hercules and Iolaus for a moment more, then explained why he had sent for them. "As you both no doubt have heard, there is a serious situation developing here...one which could lead to devastating war... destructive beyond your imaginings. Padraic, a cousin of mine, has decided to challenge me for the throne. He's always been headstrong and proud, but, I'd never have thought he'd go this far. Frankly, I don't know why he's chosen to act...and that's part of the problem. He's not normally this resolute...he has to know that no one can possibly win such a war. But," he sighed, "to know what to do to resolve this situation, I need information...unfortunately, there is no way of knowing whom to trust..."
Fitch's voice died away at that...he was deeply ashamed to have to make such a confession. The tearing of the fabric of dragon society was painful...and he felt he had failed somehow, that this had come to pass. Ah well, he couldn't wallow in shame...there wasn't time for such self indulgence.
He caught Iolaus' puzzled look at Hal and up at Abercrombie. "Oh, I don't mean those closest, Iolaus... I would trust these two, and others in my inner circle, with my life,...but, they are all too well known to the other side. They could never infiltrate the rebel stronghold to learn why this is happening...and what we might do to stop it. No...I need a dragon Padraic would never recognise, one he would think comes from the outlands, far up in the mountains, a long way from Tarsus." Fitch paused for a moment, watching Hercules and Iolaus ponder his words...and saw the light of understanding come into their eyes.
Iolaus started to grin. Maybe he was going to get to fly again after all! "Well, if a little gold dragon would help, I think I know where you can find one!" he said, his eyes dancing. Herc threw a look at him, carefully keeping his expression neutral. They hadn't heard the whole story yet...he could tell from the way the dragons were acting that there was more to this.
Fitch watched Hercules' eyes. "Yes, the golden dragon...and and his bronze brother...would be very helpful right now...but, first, Iolaus, you need to understand the risks." Hercules stiffened. 'Here it comes,' he thought. "First, Padraic despises mortals, and if your deception is discovered, you could expect no mercy from him." Iolaus just shrugged...this was no big deal. It wouldn't be the first time he'd not been shown mercy by an enemy. "Second, the transformation...weakens mortals over time...and could be very dangerous..."
"How dangerous?" Hercules cut in, his voice sober.
"As you both know, it is rare for any mortal to become a dragon brother...a few hours is normally the longest time a mortal can sustain the energy levels required by the transformation...a full day would be at the extreme limits of any mortal's capacity. If the transformation is sustained for too long...certainly if for a day at a time, without a sufficient period of rest...the mortal...Iolaus...may not survive. His life force would be exhausted."
Hercules paled and swallowed hard, his jaw tight. "Then, sorry...no," he said firmly.
Iolaus swung his head toward his partner. "Herc..."
"No," Hercules repeated. "I can do this...I won't let you risk..."
Iolaus stiffened. "'Won't let me?" he echoed, his voice tight.
Hercules bit his lip, knowing he'd made a mistake. Damn it. Iolaus hated it when Herc made a fuss about his safety...but he was altogether too ready to risk his life...and it drove Hercules crazy. Knowing an argument wouldn't help, would only make Iolaus more stubborn, Herc forced himself to relax and turned to face his best friend. "Iolaus," he began in a placating tone, "I didn't mean it like that, and you know it...it's just that..."
Iolaus shook his head, looking the least bit disgusted, as he waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I know..."
Fitch cut in, wanting to be very clear about what he believed was needed. "Hercules...I'm sorry, but I don't think you can play the role of infiltrator."
Herc swung back to confront the King. "Why not?" he challenged, "Surely, my blood makes this safer for me than for Iolaus."
Fitch nodded, and sighed. "Yes, it is safer for you...in fact, you could probably remain in dragon form indefinitely. That's not the problem. When you are a dragon, you are...imposing...to say the least. A strange dragon of your size would threaten and intimidate Padraic...he would never let his guard down with you. However," and here Fitch turned his face to Iolaus, "with no disrespect, a small dragon, appearing to be an adolescent or very young adult, eager for the adventure, could well be welcomed...and overhear a great deal of interesting, and vital, information."
Iolaus looked a bit chagrined...as a dragon, he certainly was on the smallish side, as dragons went. Still, he could see Fitch's point. Made sense. "Okay," he said, "I'll do it."
Hercules whirled on him, "Iolaus..."
Straightening, giving him a level stare, Iolaus repeated, "I said I'd do it, Herc...it could save us all from war. It's worth the risk."
Hercules opened his mouth to protest, but the look in his buddy's eyes told him it would be useless...and more than a little irritating. Narrowing his own eyes, he turned back to Fitch, "So...what can we do to minimize the risks?"
Abercrombie spoke up, "We have herbs which will strengthen Iolaus' life force, to allow him to maintain himself as a dragon for up to a day at a time, without harming himself irreparably." Iolaus remembered how only an hour or so had worn him out the night he'd first flown as a dragon...must be pretty strong herbs to give him a day's worth of time.
Hal nodded. "We wouldn't ask this of Iolaus, if we didn't think we could manage the risks, Hercules."
Iolaus held his hands out and gave Herc an 'okay, will you relax now?' look. Hercules shook his head, his hands on his hips. He had a bad feeling about this. "I don't like it."
Iolaus just snorted softly, as much as to say, 'so what else is new?', as he shrugged and turned to face Fitch. "Alright, so what do I do now? Where do I find these guys?"
Fitch led him to a map on the far wall, a map Iolaus had often studied in the past. It was a beautiful tapestry, finely woven with brilliant colours. With the first claw on his right forepaw, Fitch pointed out the location of the rebel enclave...at least Fitch knew where they were congregating, if he didn't know much else. Iolaus could see it was only about thirty miles from Tarsus, as the crow, or in this case, dragon, flies.
"Okay, got it...what's my story, and how do I get information back to you?"
Fitch motioned again at the map, pointing out a small dragon settlement about two hundred miles north of their current location, high in the windswept mountains. Iolaus shivered a little, unconsciously, just thinking of the snow and ice on those mountains. "You'll tell them you are from here...Delphin is sufficiently far away, and small, that it is unlikely Padraic will have other followers from the community. As to getting information back to us...you will return here," again Fitch marked a spot on the map, about ten miles to the southeast of Tarsus. "There is a cave there, where Hal can meet you, and obtain your information." Fitch turned to look down at the mortal who came only halfway up to his shoulder. "When you meet, you will return to your own form for at least an hour, and take more of the herbs Hal will bring for you, before you return to the rebels."
"Wait a minute," Hercules interposed, "how many days is this likely to take...and will the herbs be enough protection?"
"Hopefully not many days," Fitch said with a slight shrug, "and, so long as Iolaus does not overexert himself, he should be fine." There were so many things they could not control...it was impossible to know how quickly Iolaus would be able to acquire the information they so desperately needed.
Herc looked at the dragons, wondering if they knew a different Iolaus...because the one he knew didn't know how not to 'overexert himself'. "That's...a little vague. How about we reevaluate the situation after two days...?"
"Herc," Iolaus had almost a plaintive tone in his voice...mixed with a good deal of indignation. Gods, he hated it when Hercules got all overprotective...and it was worse when he did it in front of other people. Hercules didn't answer, at least not out loud...but, his eyes begged Iolaus to be reasonable, to meet him halfway on this. Reluctantly, not wanting to be the cause of the worry he could see blossoming in his friend's eyes, he nodded. "Okay," he agreed, with a grudging sigh.
Iolaus gazed at him a moment more, wanting to reassure Hercules...but neither of them had lied to each other for a very long time, even to protect the other...and, truthfully, he figured Herc's worry was probably justified. This was dangerous...who knew what would happen? He'd be careful...it was the best he could do.
Herc let out a breath...it was better than nothing. Emboldened by Iolaus' acquiescence, Hercules crossed the chamber so that he too, could study the map more closely. Frowning, he reflected, "That cave looks like quite a distance from the rebel stronghold to slip into, and out of, easily. Couldn't we arrange to meet closer...maybe in this area?" he pointed to the map, indicating an area not ten miles northwest of the stronghold.
Fitch considered it, and nodded. He lifted a claw, pointing to an old volcano which was known to have a number of caves which could be used. "Yes...this area would work as well...and Iolaus would have cover from the dragons flying our border in that area. Iolaus? What do you think?"
"Herc's right...if being a dragon for any length of time is going to drain my energy, then the less I have to fly back and forth the better...and, it would be reassuring to have, oh, maybe a really big bronze dragon flying patrol in that sector...one that might actually recognise I'm one of the good guys when I fly back and forth!" Iolaus cast a sidelong look up at Hercules, knowing his friend would feel better if he was nearby, and had something necessary to occupy him while Iolaus was with the rebels. Hercules nodded...it was just what he had been thinking.
Iolaus turned back to Fitch. "Well, there's no point in wasting time...I'm ready to go...
Abercrombie's voice came from behind him, causing him to turn around toward the older dragon. "First, you drink this," the dragon said, holding out a golden goblet of herbs mixed with wine and honey.
Iolaus shook his head a little as he crossed the chamber floor and reached to take the goblet from the dragon's claws. He marvelled at how delicate dragons could be...the goblet was tiny in Abercrombie's grip, held by the very tips of two claws. "So...you were all ready for me to say 'yes'," he chuckled, one brow raised in chagrined amusem*nt, a self deprecating grin playing around his lips. "I'll have to watch it...or folks'll think I'm too soft a touch," he said teasingly.
Abercrombie studied the diminutive mortal, watching as Iolaus downed the brew, hardly making a face, but Iolaus felt a rush of energy from the mixture. As the old dragon retrieved the goblet, he murmured, "Not a 'soft touch,' at all, my friend. We were ready because we all know you are too courageous and honourable, and much too good a friend, to refuse our request for help."
Iolaus blushed at the quiet, unexpected words. "Ah...Abercrombie...anybody'd want to help stop this before a firestorm erupts..." he muttered, embarrassed.
"Whatever you say, Iolaus," Abercrombie replied, just as quietly...but, his tone was indulgent. Clearly, he thought few, beyond Hercules himself, would take on these risks without a moment's hesitation...but, he was not about to cause his friend further embarrassment. The simple truth was...there was no one else who could do this...and they all knew it.
Fitch had crossed the chamber behind Iolaus. Hercules came to stand at his friend's side, looking up at Fitch. "If he's going to be a dragon...then you'd better change me, too...that way, I can go with Hal to the cave each day...and, as Iolaus has suggested, I can fly patrols along your borders."
Fitch nodded...this had also been expected. These brothers would never willingly let the other stand alone, no matter what the risk. He reached out his claw, and drew a thin narrow line over each of their hearts, and a deeper one over his own. He blended his blood with theirs, mixed their blood together, with a delicate, rolling motion of his claw, and, finally, he rubbed their blood into the cut in his own chest. "Brother to Brother," he intoned.
"Brother to Brother," Abercrombie and Hal murmured, as if saying a prayer.
"Brother to Brother," Hercules and Iolaus repeated...and, then they each felt the strange stomach sinking sense of dizziness...and Iolaus found himself again on the edge of a sneeze...that signalled their transformation into dragons.
A huge, majestic bronze dragon gazed down upon the dazzling radiance of the small golden dragon beside him. "C'mon," Hercules said, "I'll walk you to the entrance..."
They both dipped their heads to the King, nodded toward Abercrombie and Hal, then left the room. The three dragons looked at one another, but had no words. They were each very worried about their golden brother...they feared the risks, even if it seemed he did not.
Herc and Iolaus passed several other dragons, males and females, on their way through the tunnels and chambers. They didn't pay much attention, didn't really want to get drawn into any conversations. It was best if other dragons just thought they were visitors and forgot about them. They assumed that the dragons would pay little attention to them...and most just went by, focused on their own business, while a few looked at them curiously...but, one, returning to his post outside the King's chamber, Silas, studied them intently. Who were these strange dragons? Silas was sure he didn't know them...and, as the King's appointment secretary, he knew no unknown dragons were expected that day. So, what had they been doing with the King? By the Eternal Dragon, the bronze one was huge, having to stoop a little as he moved through the tunnels and caverns...the little gold one was probably his son...an assumption which would have made Iolaus snort in amused indignation, if he had been aware of it.
When they reached the broad, high opening onto a wide ledge on the side of the mountain fortress, jutting out over a deep chasm, Hercules reached a foreleg to lightly touch the small dragon by his side.
Iolaus looked up at him, his blue eyes unclouded and calm. "You don't have to say it, Herc...I'll be careful."
Hercules bobbed his head, then looked up at sky. "Tomorrow...no later than noon, Iolaus...I'll see you at the meeting place."
"You got it, big guy," Iolaus agreed snickering. Gods...Herc sure was huge as a dragon...Iolaus had never seen one larger.
Hercules, getting the joke, gave his partner a playful shove, and then watched Iolaus take flight, heading to the southwest...heading into danger...watching until Iolaus disappeared from sight.
Hercules shivered a bit. Gods, he had a really bad feeling about this.
Sighing, he turned and lumbered back down through the tunnels, having to hunch a bit...he was a little too big to move comfortably through these passageways. He had decided to go back to talk with Hal to firm up his border patrol duties...and maybe track down Braxus. The young dragon had always been his favourite, having been the first dragon he and Iolaus had met...and Braxus had played a critical role in ensuring Iolaus was accepted by the other dragons when they'd all been held hostage five years before. Braxus had been very young then, and Herc wondered what he was up to now that he had formally achieved adulthood in dragon society.
'What an incredible, amazing feeling!' Iolaus thought to himself with unbridled joy as his wings caught an updraft and carried him higher. He knew he faced serious risks...but, he didn't see why that should mar his thrill at flying once again. Gods, this was...he couldn't find the word...there wasn't a word to express the way his heart rejoiced at the freedom and feeling of flight.
He'd gone about twenty miles, when a large amber dragon suddenly swooped from high above him, to angle across his flight path, drawing him up short, having to flap his wings to maintain position and altitude.
"Hey! What's your problem!" Iolaus shouted, highly indignant at the abrupt, and arbitrary action, of the other dragon.
"Border patrol," the dragon responded laconically. "You're heading into a dangerous area...and I suggest you change your route."
"Oh!" Iolaus responded...he'd forgotten about the border patrols...and they didn't know who he was...or whose side he was on. "Sorry...I didn't know...I'm...uh, visiting...from the north...I didn't realize..."
"Don't worry about it kid...just head back the way you came," the dragon warrior responded, his voice the usual patronizing tone adults used for thoughtless adolescents.
Iolaus had been about to react to the term and the tone...but, then, he remembered...that was the whole point, wasn't it...that he look young, and nonthreatening. Guess it was working.
"Okay, thanks," he said, and angled away...and was a lot more circ*mspect and watchful as he continued his journey once the border patrol dragon had flown off. As a result, he was less startled when, five miles further on, another large dragon, red this time, challenged him. "Halt!"
"Yo!" responded Iolaus, infusing his voice with an eager innocence, "Am I here?"
"Depends on where you think 'here' is, tiny," the dragon drawled, blocking his path.
Tiny! Well, he could see this was going to be a lot of fun. Showing admirable restraint, Iolaus ignored the appellation, and explained in his best adolescent fashion, "Well, uh...um...I heard Padraic was...um... looking for dragons...to uh...join him...so, here I am!" he finished brightly.
The large dragon looked at him with amusem*nt. "Come back when you're all grown up, kid," he said, laughing at Iolaus.
"Hey!" Iolaus protested. Enough was enough. "I am all grown up...and just because I'm not a great ox like you, doesn't mean I can't handle myself!"
The other dragon snickered. Kids! "You're kidding, right?"
Iolaus glared at him. "No," he seethed, "I'm not kidding...now, are you going to let me past...or do I have to fight my way in?"
The red dragon, caught by the tone, and the threat, took another look at the feisty little guy. He liked feisty...and, by the Eternal Dragon, they needed feisty...there weren't near enough dragons in the rebel force. "Alright, kid, come with me...we'll see what Padraic has to say. He likes to meet all the new recruits personally...but, if he says you go, you go...understand?"
"Yeah, I understand," Iolaus said a little sulkily...not wanting to push the belligerent act any more than he had to. He could talk a good line, but he hadn't spent enough time as a dragon to be in any way proficient as a warrior in this body. He realized he'd need to do some drills, to get a better sense of his capabilities, and to plan a few moves. Shaking his head wryly, he thought he should have probably thought about that before he'd flown straight in. Silently, he followed 'Red' over the final range of mountains, then they swirled down in tighter and tighter circles, until they pulled up on a ledge under an overhang, not visible from the air. 'Red' led him in and down along a dimly lit twisting tunnel. It wasn't long before they heard voices.
As soon as he was close enough to make out the voice, Iolaus froze for a moment. Hera. What was she doing here? "Score one for Herc,' he thought, remembering his buddy's comments on the road to Argos. Straining to listen, he continued to follow in 'Red's' wake.
"I'm pleased at how well your cause is inspiring other dragons, and their recognition of your rightful place as their leader," Hera assured Padraic in an odd voice...Iolaus realized she was trying to cover her usual haughty tones with an almost simpering friendliness...it made his scales crawl. "In the morning, Ares will meet with his generals, to plan the tactics for creating further unrest amongst the mortals...it will be a few more weeks yet, but they should be at war with one another by the time you have acquired the throne here. Give them another few weeks after that, and they will have weakened themselves sufficiently for you to move in with your forces and take control. With so many dragons flocking to you, we must discuss your plans of attack. I suggest we meet again tomorrow afternoon, to work out the details, so that I may know how to be of the most help to you..."
Ares. Wonderful. Could this get any better? Well, it at least gave him one of the links between what was going on here and the tensions mounting in Greece. And, it sounded like they would wait for the situation on Dragon Island to be resolved before ushering in a war in Greece. Not great news...but, it meant he and Herc were in the right place. If they could stop what was happening here, they could avoid war for both dragons and mortals.
Red stopped so sharply in the entrance to the cavern, that Iolaus almost blundered into him...he really did have to get better at using this body...his reflexes were just a bit off.
Red stood in the doorway, awaiting his lord's notice. Padraic, seeing him, waved him in...infuriating Hera, who was not used to being treated so...rudely. How dared this creature expect her to just stand and await his attention, dawdling away her time, while he spoke to subordinates.
Red co*cked his head at Iolaus, in an invitation to follow him into the chamber. "Sire," he said deferentially, "we have a new recruit."
'Sire? Getting just a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?' Iolaus thought, as he followed Red into the chamber, carefully keeping his eyes away from Hera...hoping that gods couldn't see though dragon forms to the mortals underneath. If she could, he was toast. Besides, what he could see of her from the corner of his eye was more than enough...gods, she'd manifested in a form more than twice her usual height!
Iolaus bowed deeply to Padraic, "Sire," he said, his head lowered, "I've come from Delphin to join your noble cause...I pray you will accept my service."
Padraic regarded the little dragon with a mixture of approval (the kid knew how to behave, anyway) and incredulity. "What's your name, child...and how old are you?"
Name? Oh yeah...he should have a name...and, glancing sideways at Hera, he knew 'Iolaus' would never do. "Arturos," Iolaus responded, keeping his head down, even though he wanted to kick the arrogant ass. "I'm not a child, Sire...I have reached my tenth year." Dragons matured faster than mortals...by their tenth year, they were considered ready to assume adult responsibilities.
"Really? You don't look ten..." Padraic murmured.
Iolaus raised his head, to meet the dragon's eyes. "I assure you, Sire...I am an adult...and capable of serving you loyally." Well, none of that was a lie...he was an adult...and he was 'capable'...it was just that he was a little older than ten, and he had already agreed to serve Fitch.
Hera was caught by something in the tone of the small, bright gold, dragon...something familiar. She frowned, trying to decide what had raised a warning flag in her mind. The creature seemed insignificant enough, so she brushed away her slight sense of unease. Impatient, she cut into the conversation.
"Padraic, I see you have other matters to address...I'll return tomorrow afternoon." Padraic nodded absently, not even bothering to glance at her before she left. Her lipped curled...she'd enjoy bringing this lout to heel, and Iolaus caught the look out of the corner of his eye, just before she disappeared. Well, that was a relief...he didn't like to be too close to Hera...certainly not for long, and that last look on her face had pretty much confirmed she wasn't in this for the simple reason of being helpful to the dragons.
Schooling his face into an innocent, inquisitive expression, but allowing a slight tone of contempt into his voice, he turned his face toward where Hera had been. "If I may, Sire...that mortal did not show proper respect to you." Turning his regard back to Padraic, quickly lowering his head again, he murmured contritely, "Forgive me...it is not my place to comment..."
Padraic smiled with delighted approval. This young one had the proper contempt for mortals...and, he had enough confidence to speak his mind, combined with enough intelligence to do so properly. "She isn't a mortal, Arturos...she is one of their goddesses...the queen of their gods, as a matter of fact."
"Oh," responded Iolaus, thoughtfully, "that explains her power to disappear...I had not thought mortals could do that."
Padraic laid a fatherly forepaw upon Iolaus' shoulder. "I like you Arturos," he said, then turned to Red. "Show our newest recruit to the aerie, and give him an orientation." Red nodded, and co*cked his head, again signalling Iolaus should follow him. "As you wish, Sire," he said.
Iolaus bowed a little lower, then raised his head, to again look into Padraic's eyes. "Thank you, Sire, for accepting my service...and, Sire, though I may again be speaking out of turn...may I urge caution in dealing with one of their gods..." His tone clearly said that mortals were worse than worthless and completely untrustworthy...so how much better could the gods they worshipped be?
Padraic chuckled. "Not to worry, young Arturos...she's an ally I'm making use of, no more."
Iolaus carefully kept his expression deferential, but in his mind he was scoffing. 'Yeah, I'll just bet you're using her...' He bowed again deeply to Padraic, and kept his head lowered as he backed up until he was in the doorway, then turned to follow Red down the tunnel. All those years hanging around with Hercules had taught him how royalty likes to be treated...not that he normally indulged them. But, he figured it was a good idea to make an exception to his usual casual, if not downright disrespectful, behaviour for the next couple of days.
Hercules found Hal and sorted out the details of his assignment. No one wanted many dragons to know he and Iolaus were on the Island...it could too easily compromise Iolaus' mission, especially given it wasn't clear who could be trusted, and who couldn't. However, Hal had personally chosen the border patrol dragons, knowing their loyalty was crucial. Consequently, he decided Hercules would patrol in tandem with an amber dragon, Bartos, and Hal would fly back and forth, with the potion for Iolaus and to carry his messages back to Fitch.
When Hercules asked about Braxus, Hal's eyes whirled, showing his agitation, as he turned a little away. Alarmed, Hercules pressed for more information. "What's wrong? Has something happened to Braxus... he didn't join the rebels did he?" Hercules knew Braxus was impetuous but he couldn't believe the young dragon would be so rash...or bloodthirsty. Braxus had to be one of the most gentle beings he'd ever known.
Hal swung his head back, and shook it. "NO! Braxus would never join the rebels. No...in fact, he was injured in a small skirmish four days ago over the outlands."
"Injured?" Hercules repeated, his heart sinking. "He's alright...isn't he?"
Hal sighed. "Braxus will be fine...but, it will take him a while longer to heal completely. One wing was particularly badly damaged...honestly, Hercules? He was very lucky. When we'd managed to get him back here, he was very close to death. Fortunately, we have means to heal our own, and we're all relieved he will recover. Braxus is a favourite of everyone's! It was his injury which brought home to all of us how serious this whole situation is...that it just wasn't going to blow over...and that dragons were going to be hurt...even killed...if we did not soon find a way to stop Padraic."
"Can I see him?" Hercules asked, wanting to assure himself that Braxus was going to fine.
Hal nodded. "Of course...I'll take you to him now."
Hal turned to lead the way through a confusing twist of tunnels, higher up toward the old volcanic cone, to the fortress aerie. When they arrived, Hercules found himself in a cavern he'd never seen before. It was immense, with clusters of nests in family groupings, and several openings through the mountain wall to let in air and light. There were tapestries on the walls, low tables scattered about with woven coverings and gold and silver bowls, a natural spring along one wall provided a neverending water supply and the nests were decorated with luxurious blankets in many complex patterns.
At this time of day, there were few dragons in the aerie...wounded or ill dragons like Braxus were rare because in the normal course of events, dragons tended to be healthy, sturdy creatures far less vulnerable than mortals...and their lifespans were far longer, as well. The dragons who were here were mothers, tending eggs or very young, newly hatched dragons. Hal pointed Hercules toward Braxus, then took the opportunity to visit with his wife, Ludmilla. Hercules was glad of the chance to see her, too, and decided to speak with her as soon as he'd assured himself that Braxus was recovering...would recover fully.
Braxus was leaning against one of the openings to the outside, and wasn't aware of Hercules' approach. He was tired of being cooped up in here and he wanted to know what was going on...but they all still tended to treat him like a kid, and wouldn't tell him anything. His wing was still a bit sore, but he knew it would be alright in another few days...he was bored and disgruntled, but he wasn't hurting too bad. He'd been puzzling about something he'd seen not too long before. He was sure he'd seen a familiar little gold dragon fly off toward the area where the rebels were holed up. He knew it had looked like Iolaus...but figured it couldn't be. What would Hercules and Iolaus be doing here...and why would Iolaus be a dragon? Neither of the heroes had ever again manifested as dragons after the ceremony five years before...it was really just too dangerous for them...well, for Iolaus anyway. But, he could have sworn...now, he was keeping a lookout in case the dragon returned, so he could get a closer look.
"Braxus?" came the soft enquiry behind him...and he jumped in pleased surprise. He knew this voice! It was Hercules! They were here! Wheeling to greet his friend, he stopped suddenly, seeing the huge bronze dragon where he had expected to see the demigod.
"Hercules! You're a dragon!" he breathed, his eyes wide.
Hercules chuckled. "So it seems...for a little while, anyway. How are you, Braxus...Hal told me you'd been hurt," Herc asked, the concern clear in his voice as he took in the somewhat blackened and mangled wing.
Braxus followed his look, and grimaced...as much as a dragon can be said to grimace. "This...oh, I'll be fine...we heal fast. Don't worry," he reassured Hercules, turning to again look at his friend. "But...what are you doing here? And...was that Iolaus I saw fly away not too long ago?"
Hercules bobbed his head. For all that there was concern about who could be trusted, Hercules had no fears of trusting Braxus...this young dragon, while still a child, had helped them more than once...had saved Iolaus' life five years ago. Braxus was a good friend. "Fitch has asked us to try to help stop Padraic's rebellion. Iolaus has just left to infiltrate Padraic's rebel force."
Braxus studied Hercules for a moment, alarmed. He'd grown up...he wasn't the brash, young dragon Hercules had first met. He was an adult now, he'd reached his tenth cycle a full moon before, and he understood risk and danger better than he had back then. "Hercules...don't you and Iolaus know how dangerous this is for him?"
Hercules shrugged his great bronze shoulders. "Iolaus can handle himself...he's infiltrated enemy camps before..." Herc didn't really want to admit the depth of his own concerns, not even to himself.
Braxus shook his head, "It's not that...I know Iolaus can take care of himself...it's being a dragon for very long...Hercules..." Braxus paused, not wanting to say it, not wanting to even think it, but wanting Hercules to understand how very perilous this was. He finished in a small voice, "Iolaus...could die..."
Hercules' head snapped up. This was too close to his own fears. But, surely, Fitch, Hal, and especially Abercrombie, wouldn't take impossible risks with Iolaus' life. "Braxus...Iolaus has taken a herbal potion which Fitch and the others say will allow him to remain a dragon for up to a day at a time..."
Braxus bit his lip. "Yes, I know of the herbal formula...we use it ourselves to replenish energy. But...a day...that would be the absolute limit, and only if he rests a lot. If he goes much past that, he could even lose control of the transformation, and return to his human form...and, if that happens, it means his energy will almost be gone..."
Hercules frowned. "Fitch explained about the time limits...but, he didn't say anything about losing control of the transformation. How do you know all this, anyway, Braxus?"
The young dragon shyly bobbed his head. "Well...I've studied it. You see, I knew Iolaus really enjoyed being a dragon...that he loved to fly. So, I thought, as a surprise, maybe we could figure out how to let him be a dragon again...and longer. But, when I studied the scrolls and the formulii, I decided it was really just too dangerous. That's why I didn't think it could possibly be him I saw flying away..."
Hercules looked away. 'Gods, how dangerous was this? Should he go after Iolaus? Would that just place his friend in more danger? Dammit!' he thought.
Braxus could see he had really upset Hercules, and he was sorry...and besides...if Fitch, Abercrombie and Hal had supported the idea, then maybe it would be okay. "I'm sorry, Hercules...maybe...maybe I don't understand it all as well as the others. If Fitch said he'd be okay for up to a day...then, I'm sure, he'll be fine." Braxus wished he could sound more confident. Hercules wished he could, too. However, worrying now wouldn't do any good. He'd soon be out on patrol, and he'd watch for Iolaus when he was due back. If his friend seemed in bad shape, then he just wouldn't let him go back.
Shaking off his feeling of dread, Hercules visited a while more with Braxus, relieved at least to know the young dragon was going to be fine. Nevertheless, whenever he gazed at the Braxus' damaged wing, Hercules understood how important it was to find a way to end this before a full scale war began.
Some minutes later, Hercules took his leave of Braxus, promising to visit him again, and to keep him up to date on what was going on. Then, he went to visit with Ludmilla for a few minutes before he and Hal headed out to meet the patrol dragon Hercules was to work with.
"Hercules!" Ludmilla called to him joyfully as he crossed the aerie to her nest. She'd recognised the bronze dragon when he'd entered with Hal and was delighted to see him, not only because he was here to help stop a war, but because he was a treasured friend and brother to her beloved Hal.
"Ludmilla...you're looking well, I must say...and I hear there's good news!" Hercules greeted her warmly, sinking down on his haunches to be level with her, since she was nestled over the eggs in her nest.
Ludmilla smiled, then sighed. "Yes...and, I'm glad there's something to look forward to given the problems with Padraic. Hal and I are so happy...and so worried about the future...it's all mixed up."
Hercules co*cked his head a bit as he gazed at her. "It will be alright, Ludmilla. Iolaus has already gone to find out what he can from the rebels. We'll do all we can to help sort this out before there's real trouble."
"I know you will...and I'm grateful. I feel so...torn right now. Normally, I'd be flying my own border patrols...but, I can't leave our eggs..."
Hercules intervened. "You're doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing...don't be worrying about the other stuff right now! There're lots of other dragons, including me, who can fly the patrols...no one else can take care of your young. I promise...it will work out."
She smiled at him then and nodded. Hercules and Iolaus had a knack for solving problems. They'd saved her, Hal, Abercrombie, Fitch, Braxus and others several years ago...and, having met them, she had kept up with the stories about their exploits. It seemed these two never failed. She had great confidence in them.
Seeing she was reassured, Hercules stood with a glance toward Hal, who was standing on the other side of their nest. "Well, speaking of border patrols, I'd better set about starting mine! I'll see you again...and I know Iolaus will want to visit with you, too, when he gets back."
"I'll look forward to seeing him! And, Hercules...both of you be careful..."
"We will," he assured her, turning away to follow Hal from the aerie. He hoped being careful would be enough.
Iolaus continued to pace in Red's wake, keeping a lighthearted, eager bounce in his step. He'd have to tell Braxus that he was Iolaus' model and inspiration for this role...and hid his grin, knowing how pleased the young dragon would be. Red pointed out the mess, the armouries which largely contained only the armour plating dragons sometimes used when at war, and introduced him to more dragons than he could ever remember. Although there was one, a very large black dragon, almost as huge as Hercules, who carried an aura of danger which made Iolaus' hide crawl in warning. Red was carefully deferential as they passed, telling Iolaus this was Morgoth, Padraic's second in command. Iolaus kept his head down and his tongue silent as he studied the black surrepticiously...there was a cold, arrogant light in the dragon's red swirling eyes, and his acknowledgement of Red's greeting had been...harsh, at best. Iolaus figured he wouldn't want to turn his back on this guy...and wondered how Padraic could trust him enough to give him such power.
Finally the big black was past, heading in the opposite direction, so Red went back to explaining the drills...and asked how much experience Arturos had had as a warrior.
Deciding honesty was the best policy, Iolaus shamefacedly admitted he had none... 'well, none as a dragon,' he amended in his mind. Red sighed mightily and shook his head.
"Alright, lad, once I show you your place in the aerie, we're going to teach you how to fly...and how to fire."
Iolaus knew enough not to point out that he knew how to fly...Red meant battle maneuvers, and Iolaus was eager to learn...plus, it would give him a chance to check out the exterior of the rebel stronghold in greater detail, and assess the best approaches for attack, should one become necessary. He caught the unusual 'fire' reference...usually dragons spoke of their natural ability as 'flaming'...Red obviously meant something more aggressive...more deadly. It made Iolaus feel cold.
"Thanks, er, sir," he said, with all the bashful gratitude of a kid who had expected to be laughed at.
Red just shook his head and carried on with the orientation. Kids. This one would be lucky to last an hour in a real battle...if that long. Too many of their supporters lacked experience, too many were young and naive. The older amongst them had decided to initiate daily training sessions, teaching the dragons how to work as fighting units, teaching them strategies and battle tactics. They'd been lucky...the dragon who they called the drill master had had a great deal of prior experience in squirmishes and missions against mortals...not the same, perhaps, as fighting other dragons, but better than nothing.
And so it was, Iolaus spent the next four hours dipping and diving, being chased and chasing other dragons much bigger, faster and more skilled than himself. And, he learned how to flame...making himself jump the first time in embarrassment. He suspected his golden hide had turned a peculiar amber rose, but he just ducked his head and carried on.
By the time the drills were over for the afternoon, his wings felt like they were about to fall off, and his throat was raw. No wonder Fitch didn't want a war...flaming hurt! It was a little like the effect of a terrible cough, which wears down the throat after a while. He almost stumbled when he landed on the hidden ledge, but, by dint of his determination and stubbornness, he remained upright. Gods...he was exhausted.
He trailed after the other dragons to the mess...a massive cavern deep in the mountain. It was then that he got a good sense of the size of the rebel force. He counted 62 dragons in the hall. Assuming some were flying patrol, or hunting for the fresh meat needed to feed so many dragons, and others would have sentry duty, while others still would be on kitchen duty, he estimated a total of 80 or so dragons. Not an army... but almost ten percent of the dragon population. Enough to create real trouble.
Dinner was typical dragon fare...raw meat of indeterminate origin. Ah well, he'd eaten worse...and he was starving. But, then, he chuckled inside, what else was new? The older, experienced dragons ignored him...which was just fine. He was too tired to make conversation anyway...and that gave him pause. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been too tired to talk.
Red had been watching him, and rambled over after the meal. "So, Arturos...are you still glad Padraic accepted your service?"
Iolaus had been in the process of yawning, and quickly tried to stifle it, making Red chuckle. "It's alright, lad...t'was a long flight here from Delphin up in the north. You've a right to be weary. Go on...head on up to the aerie. Drills start again at dawn."
"Thank you, sir," Iolaus answered, not having to fake his gratitude. If Red knew he'd only flown thirty miles before he'd arrived here, the dragon would be a lot less sympathetic. A classic case of what Red didn't know, wouldn't hurt Iolaus.
Gods...dawn...that would mean, what, at least four more hours of drill before he had to sneak away...and, he'd better have a story to cover that. It would take at least an hour to get to the meeting place, brief Herc and Hal, and get back early in the afternoon, to hear what Hera and Padraic would be deciding about the attack plans. How could he cover his absence? Could he claim he got lost and disoriented? They might think him an idiot...but, then, he suspected they already did. He'd been around dragons enough to know contempt when he saw it.
Too tired to worry about it, Iolaus stumbled up to the aerie, high under the peak of the mountain, and collapsed into the nest assigned to him. He was asleep before his head hit the meager pillow of leaves.
Hercules launched off on his second patrol shift just before dawn. Yesterday had been more active than he'd anticipated. Twice, he'd chased rebel dragons who were trying to sneak into the Tarsus territory, either to scout or to engage in small, harassing skirmishes, like the one Braxus had been caught in. Once, there had been an exchange of fire...and Hercules had been surprised by the feeling of flaming...and the sore throat it left in its wake. He hadn't tried to kill the rebels...but, he wanted to intimidate them, and let them know what they were up to was dangerous and had consequences. He'd made quite an impression. There weren't many dragons his size...and the rebels took the story of the massive bronze dragon back to their stronghold, alerting others to watch out for him.
Today, Iolaus would make contact...and Herc would see how well his energy was holding up. As he headed south, he hoped that maybe Iolaus' dragon impersonation could be finished today. Given what Braxus had told him yesterday afternoon, he wasn't sure it was a good idea to wait for two days to reevaluate the situation.
The sky was still grey when the dragons were wakened for the day's duties. Iolaus laid in his nest for an extra moment, wishing with all his heart that he didn't have to get up. His wings were stiff, as were his back and all four legs. His throat was still a little raw, and his head was stuffy, as if full of cotton. He sighed, then sneezed unexpectedly, almost blowing himself out of the nest! He gasped at the unexpected flame and smoke...and winced at the soreness in his sinuses and the headache the single sneeze had caused. Gods...poor Abercrombie...dragon sneezes were terrible! He groaned a little, feeling utterly miserable, then gave himself a shake. Laying here wasn't going to make him feel better. A little exercise would work the kinks right out...and the sneeze and stuffiness were probably caused by an allergy of some sort...he always did feel a sneeze coming on at the moment of transformation. Just what he needed...to be allergic to his own dragon body! Snickering a little at that idea, Iolaus hauled himself to his feet, to follow his fellow warriors out of the aerie and down to the mess for breakfast...more raw meat. He could see that this diet would get a little boring if he had to spend much time here.
Breakfast didn't take long, and within the hour, he was launching himself off the hidden ledge to join the drill unit he'd been assigned to the afternoon before. It seemed today was hazing day. The other dragons cut across his line of flight, dropped onto him from above, swung up from below, bracketed him too tight for him to use the full span of his wings... forcing him have to flap harder when he started losing altitude. 'Well, I'm glad they find me amusing,' he thought with disgust when he heard the others snicker at him.
As if things weren't difficult enough, the drill master decided to take a personal interest in him. By the time Iolaus judged it was past time to wander off, his ears were ringing from the bellows of contemptuous abuse about how he couldn't do anything right, and that he was an idiot his parents should have drowned at birth...or at the very least, kept locked in the home aerie to keep him out of trouble.
Iolaus took it all...he didn't have a lot of choice.
Finally, truly exhausted, he glided onto a rocky outcrop and perched, trying to catch his breath. The drill master was on him like ants on honey. Iolaus conjured up a truly pitiful look, and panting, responded, "Sorry, sir...must still be...tired from yesterday's...flight here, sir...please sir...I'll work through...the meal break...please...just a short...break now...sir..."
The blue dragon looked at him with disgust. Not only was this one too tiny to be true, and an idiot, it seemed he was a weakling, too. There was no good reason for a young dragon his age to be this exhausted. Snorting smoke, the drill master turned away. "Fine...work over the meal break...but don't expect any more breaks this afternoon. You've too much to learn. Frankly, you're a disaster."
"Yes sir...thank you, sir," Iolaus gasped, wondering if this was what Fitch had meant about not overexerting himself. Gods, he had to catch his breath...it was ten miles to the meeting place...and he was going to be late as it was. Herc would not be pleased with him...not pleased at all.
As soon as the others headed toward the ledge for an hour's break in the mess cavern, Iolaus launched into the air, keeping a wary, if very weary, eye out for the border patrols...on both sides.
Hercules flew above the cave site Fitch had selected as the meeting place. Hal was already waiting below with the herbal drink Iolaus would need to restore his energy. Iolaus was late...the sun had already crossed its zenith...and Hercules was increasingly anxious. When he'd landed briefly to check in with Hal, the other dragon had tried, once, to distract the bronze dragon, but the look in the icy blue eyes left him with the impression he was best to just try to be invisible...and now, Hal was pacing back and forth in the entrance of the cave. Every few seconds, they would both again search the skies to the southeast. Where was he? He was more than an hour late. Gods, Hal thought, as he watched Hercules circle above, he hoped Iolaus would get there soon. He was worried that Hercules would fly off to look for their brother ...and no one needed the rebels to see the small gold rebel meet with the large bronze border guard.
Finally, Hercules wheeled sharply in the air, and hovered, his whole body focused on watching a speck coming toward them from the southeastern horizon...and then he was flying out to greet the golden dragon. Hal followed his line of flight, and dared to start breathing normally again. Iolaus was coming. Thank the Eternal Dragon!
Iolaus felt an overpowering sense of relief when his dragon vision caught the glint of sun on bronze wheeling high in the air a mile away, descending toward him. He really hadn't thought he'd be able to make it much farther. Hercules noted his buddy's unsteady flight, as he glided down to fly beside him. He called out a greeting, and was even more alarmed when Iolaus seemed incapable of responding, merely shaking his head a little, and panting as he continued to move his wings, up and down...Iolaus was clearly too exhausted to speak. Seeing that Iolaus was wobbling, almost out of control, Hercules accelerated to land before him, to be there to break his landing, if need be. Moments later, Iolaus glided in for an illcontrolled landing, Hercules virtually catching him as he careened in from the sky.
"Hal!" shouted Hercules, steadying a trembling and exhausted golden dragon, "change him back...NOW!"
Hal reached around Iolaus, and brushed a claw over the almost invisible, newly healed line over his heart, and Iolaus collapsed, gasping, on the ground.
"Iolaus!" Hercules practically shouted in alarm. Gods, this body was awkward...he was too big...if he wasn't careful, he'd crush the Hunter.
Iolaus waved a hand up at Hercules, signalling that he was alright, he just needed to catch his breath. Hal quickly handed him a goblet of the herbal mixture. Iolaus clutched the goblet in two shaking hands and he gulped down the herbal concoction greedily, desperately hoping it would give him back some measure of the energy he was going to need to get through the rest of the day. He felt the 'zing' the mixture gave him, and it helped...but, not as much as he'd hoped it would. Finally, he brought his breathing under control. Wheezing only slightly, he struggled back up onto his feet, to lean a little unsteadily against the huge bronze dragon...and winced when he saw the look in Herc's eyes.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Herc...it wasn't all that easy to get away."
Hercules blinked and looked away, every line of his glorious bronze dragon body stiffened as he tried to control his desire to blast Iolaus into next week. Dammit. Iolaus knew a day was the absolute outside limit...and he had just exceeded it by almost two hours. He'd kill himself if he wasn't careful. Hercules hated this...hated that all he could do was watch and wait...hated that Iolaus was pushing the limits...the risks.
Used to his partner's ways, understanding he wasn't seeing anger, but concern, Iolaus smiled. "Well, Herc...you'd have won your bet."
With difficulty, the bronze dragon fought down his anxiety and anger, to focus on what Iolaus was saying. Hercules brought his eyes back to Iolaus, craning his neck down to better see the small warrior. "What bet?"
"Your bet about Hera...she was there yesterday when I arrived," Iolaus said with a grin. "And, I must say...she was just as ugly as ever, and more than twice her usual size. Worse...she was trying to act charming." Iolaus shuddered. "And, just what we need...she's getting Ares involved as well. She's got Padraic believing she'll support him in taking over all of Greece, once he's secured the throne. Padraic thinks he's using her...some chance of that." Iolaus snorted in disgust.
Hercules looked steadily at Iolaus, taking in the grey pallor, and the slight tremble in Iolaus' hands. His partner didn't look like he could take a whole lot more of this...and now his relatives were getting into the act. Wonderful. Just what they needed. But, Iolaus wouldn't thank him for his worry. "Since you're still alive, I'm assuming she didn't realize who you are," he said, keeping his voice calm.
"Nah...she didn't even hardly look at me." Bending to the ground, Iolaus used a stick to draw the layout and environs of the rebel mountain hideaway. Once he'd explained what he thought would be the best approaches, sketched out the interior design of tunnels and chambers, and clearly indicated where the hidden entrance was located, he outlined what he'd seen in the armouries. "There're about 80 to 85 dragons there at this point, maybe a few more...but they seem to be hoping for a lot more...the aerie is so huge, it's practically empty, even when almost all of us are in it. Most of the rebels are young and inexperienced...but, there are a few who know something about warfare...and one, Morgoth, a big black brute," Iolaus shivered a bit in memory, "looks like he could cause a lot of trouble."
Iolaus had been keeping an eye on the sun. It was time to go, or he'd have a lot of explaining to do. Turning to Hal, he said, "Okay, work your magic on me...I've got to fly."
Hercules took a step to block Hal's approach. "No, Iolaus, you've done enough...I don't think you should go back."
Iolaus craned his neck up to look his friend in the eye...so Herc could be under no illusion that what he thought made any difference just now. "Herc, I have to..."
"Dammit, Iolaus...look at yourself, you're exhausted...and you haven't even rested for an hour yet...Fitch said you needed at least an hour's break," Hercules seethed.
"Yeah? Well I haven't got an hour! If I don't get back soon, I'll never be able to explain where I've been or what I've been up to!" Iolaus raged as he stepped around Hercules, heading toward Hal.
"Iolaus!" Herc shouted, overwhelmed by his fear for his partner...and smoke billowed from his nostrils, making Iolaus jump back.
"Hey, easy big guy...I'm on your side, remember?" Iolaus caught the look of shock and alarm in Hercules' eyes and sighed. "I'm alright...you didn't flame me, okay. C'mon, Herc, chill out...you're going to have a heart attack. Look, I have to go back. Hera and Padraic are going to plan out the details of the rebel assault this afternoon. We need that information. Herc...it's only one more day...and, after that, I promise...I won't go back." Iolaus knew he was on the edges of his energy reserves. There was no question but that he would have to stop the deception tomorrow, whether they had all the information they needed or not...they'd have to make do with what they had at that point.
Hercules gazed down at Iolaus, who looked so small, so vulnerable between the two, huge dragons. Iolaus could see the almost haunted look of worry in his best friend's eyes, sensed the continued hesitation, and hastened to reassure Hercules that he could do this.
"I'll be fine, Herc...don't worry. I'll meet you back here tomorrow...same time...With luck, we'll have enough information for us to figure out what to do to stop this war." He looked up at Hercules, waiting, and finally, against his better judgment, Herc nodded tightly and looked away. "Okay, then. Hal, would you do the honours?" Iolaus asked, turning to give Hal access to his chest.
Hal had been watching and listening closely. He didn't like how Iolaus looked...his exhaustion was palpable. When he hesitated, Iolaus snorted in disgust. "Don't tell me I have to persuade you, too...let's get a move on...I've got ten miles to fly and I'm running out of time." Iolaus had decided not to let Hercules know that once he had gotten back, he'd probably have to fly drills again until dusk. Herc would never let him go back if he had any idea of how much energy he was having to burn...and how truly exhausted he already was.
Hal nodded reluctantly, and gently drew a line down Iolaus' chest, his own and Hercules', intoning, "Brother to..."
"..brother to..." Hercules rumbled.
"...to brother." Iolaus had barely gotten the words out, when he felt the dizziness and disorientation...worse than either of the two times before. He stood still a moment, to make sure he was steady, then, he winked at Hercules, and leapt off the ledge, pounding his wings to build his speed, as he headed to the southeast.
Hercules watched him go...and it took everything he had not to follow. Hercules was going to remember this moment...it would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.
When Iolaus glided around the shoulder of a mountain, just above the treeline, the drill master spotted him and plummeted down to meet him. "Where have you been!" the dragon screamed at him.
Iolaus flapped his wings, trying to maintain altitude while hovering in one place. "I got lost," he said.
"What?" screamed the drill master. "Tell me, are you the village idiot in Delphin...or are they all like you?" Without waiting for an answer, the dragon clipped him hard across the head, sending Iolaus careening, practically out of control.
As he fought for balance, Iolaus cursed to himself, 'THAT'S IT! I've had it with this sh*t!' Gathering the wind in his wings, he caught an updraft and rode it up, accelerating his speed, so that he could catch the drill master and cut in front of the dragon, stopping him abruptly in the air.
"Sir!" Iolaus snapped, using the right words, but his tone conveyed his fury. "I arrived here yesterday...and so far no one has had the courtesy to orient me to the area, nor has anyone shared a map with me. If we are to go into battle soon, I need to know the lay of the land...So I got lost, big deal. I've never been here before! And, sir, I might point out, I found my way back!"
The drill master read the hot anger in Iolaus' eyes, then he actually smiled. "That's better, lad! I wondered if you were a coward or just weak...but, now I see you're neither. It's about time you stood up for yourself. Get back into drill formation." The drill master flew practically straight up, and, as he went, Iolaus heard him mumble, "Kid might actually last two hours in a real battle."
'Gods, I hope so!' Iolaus murmured to himself, forcing his wings to carry him higher.
Afterward, he could never clearly remember how he got through that afternoon. The sneezing attacks, which occurred every couple of hours, didn't help. The afternoon's experiences all blurred together into a kaleidoscope of pain and exhaustion. Finally, it was over. This time, he did stumble when he landed on the hidden ledge, but, since he was the last dragon to land, no one noticed. 'Small mercies," he thought, as he staggered down the tunnel toward the mess cavern. He wasn't the least bit hungry, but he thought there was a good chance they'd be briefed on the plans for the coming assault, and he wanted to get that information. It was the only reason he had come back.
On the way, he heard a couple of other dragons talking about the huge bronze dragon who had chased them back from the border...how massive and mean he was...worse than any other dragon they had ever seen! Iolaus had to hide his grin...it made him feel better.
But, what he heard during the evening mess briefing horrified him. Ares was planning to supply his generals with Greek Fire, a particularly horrible, hot burning substance which stuck like glue and resisted almost all efforts, other than being buried in sand, to extinguish. Didn't Padraic realize the mortals would use this against the dragons if they attacked in accordance with Hera's coaching? Greek Fire would be more than a match for their natural flames. Gods. And, the word was given...the rebel assault on Tarsus would begin in two days, at dawn. Once Tarsus was secured, assaults would be launched by the cities supporting Hera and Area on the other cities in Greece.
Gods...Fitch'd have to send messengers out to their allies to warn them, to ensure they prepared for battle. Iolaus didn't want to think of Corinth, or Thebes, in flames...well, he'd just have to make sure it didn't happen. They had to stop this conflict on Dragon Island before it went any further.
Iolaus followed others up to the aerie, afraid he'd not find it by himself in his exhausted semistupor. He couldn't wait to meet up with Herc tomorrow...he'd swallow his pride and hitch a ride on his friend's back to Tarsus. His last thought before sleep captured him was to wonder if he'd ever again remember when he'd actually enjoyed flying.
The next day, Iolaus got through the morning's drills on will alone...and, as the morning burned on, he watched for an opportunity to slip away...but, it never came. He'd even volunteered to join the hunting party, but the drill master just shook his head and said he needed the drill practice. When he couldn't see any way of being alone long enough to sneak away, he had no choice but to follow the others in to the mess. Once most of the dragons were occupied with their meal, he could slip away, and take off, before the meal break was over. With any luck at all, no one would notice he was gone, until he was well on his way to the meeting point. Damn. Herc was going to kill him for being so late!
In the mess cavern, he looked at the ubiquitous raw meat, and decided he really wasn't that hungry. In fact, he was far too exhausted to even imagine eating. As soon as he could, he slipped back into the dim tunnels.
Just before he got to the entrance, a large dragon landed, and was coming towards him. Iolaus almost stumbled when he recognised Silas, Fitch's appointment secretary. Recovering, he kept going. 'Silas doesn't know what dragon 'me' looks like,' he told himself. But, as Silas passed him, the larger dragon stopped, a puzzled frown drawing in the ridges over his eyes. He seen this dragon before...and then he remembered...it was the little gold dragon who had met with the King two days ago...and the big bronze who had been with him was now flying border patrol!
Iolaus had just lifted into the air, when he heard Silas scream behind him. "Stop him...stop that golden runt! He's a spy!"
Iolaus' heart plummeted in his chest. It occurred to him that if he didn't have bad luck, he wouldn't have any luck at all. He dug his wings into the air, desperately reaching for height and speed. Silas burst out onto the ledge behind him...and he heard one of the sentry dragons sound a blast of alarm. Daring to take a quick look back, he saw Silas launch himself off the ledge, coming after him, trailed by several others. Desperate, Iolaus flew as fast as he knew how...and his sudden burst of fear-spawned energy would allow.
Hercules was flying his third shift. He'd stopped three more incursion efforts from the rebel side, and had seen a dragon slip across from the Tarsus side, but had been too far away to recognise who it was, or to even think of blocking the dragon's transit into rebel territory. They needed more dragons flying patrol, he decided...things were heating up if the increase in activity along the border was anything to go by.
Now, he was circling in the air above the meeting place...and cursing because Iolaus was again late. He waited twenty minutes more, until, finally, Herc couldn't stand it any longer. The bad feeling he'd had since this all began had escalated, and the ridges along the back of his long neck were all standing straight up. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew Iolaus was in trouble...the time for waiting was over. He heard Hal shouting behind him as he wheeled, heading southeast, closer to the rebel border. If he didn't see Iolaus coming, then he was going to go in after him.
Hal launched off the ledge of the cave, following Hercules to the southeast. He, too, was afraid something was wrong. Iolaus shouldn't be this late. But, Hercules couldn't just fly into the rebel sanctuary to tear the place apart looking for Iolaus...Hal had to stop him...bring him back before he took on odds even Hercules couldn't match.
His heart bursting with effort, Iolaus had managed to stay ahead of Silas, and dodge one of the rebel border guards, who had now joined the ranks of those chasing him. He'd make it...he had to make it! He had to get the information to Hercules...even if he collapsed and died from exhaustion as soon as he'd told what he knew. He had to make it.
Overwhelming relief flooded through him when Iolaus spotted the large, bronze dragon flying toward him from over the horizon...in another few minutes, he'd have Herc beside him...and he trusted Herc to help him beat off Silas and the other dragons on his tail. He flew with a desperate deliberation toward his friend.
But, his size was a handicap, as was his exhaustion. When he felt the burn of the flames which hit him from behind and above, he knew he wasn't going to make it...but neither was he going to die while running away. It just wasn't his style. Putting what he had learned in the practice drills into action, Iolaus tumbled into a somersault in the air, coming up underneath his hunters, flames blowing from his mouth. He caught one, damaging it's wing badly, sending it into a spiral to the earth. Drawing in one wing, he rolled to the side, evading a blast of fire, and, as he came up again, he took out another, then flipped to check where Herc was...still too far away...but, close enough to see him clearly. The other dragons had scattered, seeking height and maneuvring room.
Iolaus craned his neck, to place the dragons he knew were still hunting him...and saw two were closing in again, the others having flown higher into temporary disarray when he'd attacked back. Time was running out. He was exhausted...he knew he couldn't outrun them nor did he have the energy left to defeat them all alone, and his heart faltered in despair. There was no way he was going to get his message that the war was scheduled to begin in two days to Herc. Oh Gods, he'd failed...
But then, a wild, desperate idea occurred to him...attackers...flames...maybe... maybe he could communicate with a gesture...a long shot, but the only one he had left.
Instead of trying to evade the attackers who were coming at him, Iolaus held his position facing Hercules, beating his wings to hover in space, knowing he didn't have much time. It took all he had not to look down, and not to fight those coming at him with his last breath. If he did, his death truly would be for nothing. His eyes locked on Hercules, Iolaus tilted his body deliberately to his left, to the west, completing one roll in the air. Level once more, he paused...and then did it again...slowly, deliberately. The second roll completed, he stopped, and hung in the air, waiting, his thoughts trained on Hercules. 'Two rolls to the west... attack...flames... two days...attack...flames...two days...firestorm...'
Hercules was consumed with terror and desperation. He was still too far away. He could hear Hal shouting behind him, but he didn't take the time to look back or respond. When Iolaus had first fought back, Hercules had felt a moment of hope that they might still get out of this intact. But, then, Iolaus had stopped fighting, to turn toward him...had rolled twice...what the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he running, or fighting? Why was Iolaus just hovering there? He had to know Herc was too far away...had to know that death was coming for him with the speed of the wind.
Hercules poured all the strength and power he had into his great wings, flying as fast as was possible... knowing it would never be fast enough. He could see two rebels closing on Iolaus' tail...saw the flames...and screamed.
The flames caught Iolaus, a surge of heat that tore the breath from his lungs, and forced his eyes closed. Resisting his exhaustion and hopelessness no longer, Iolaus let himself slip sideways in the air, allowing himself to spin toward the earth, letting the speed of his fall blow away the fires which had sprouted on his back and left wing. Unwilling to give up completely, Iolaus was hoping he might still evade death, by braking his fall with his wings...the maneuvre would give Herc the time to close the distance between them...as a minimum, Iolaus thought he should be able to glide down to the ground.
But, as he plunged toward the trees, he found he did not have the strength to pull back up, his wings wouldn't respond with enough strength to pull him out of the dive, he could only slow his dive marginally...worse, the exhaustion, the injuries, were costing him whatever it was that kept him in dragon form. He could feel himself transforming, back into his own body, dropping now, head first, completely helpless, toward the trees below. Flailing in the air, he managed to twist himself enough to drop feet first, not that that would help a whole hell of a lot, he thought...but, it might be less messy. With the last of his strength, he prayed from his heart, with the whole of his spirit, that Hercules would figure out his message...that, somehow, his mission to save the dragons, and Greece, from war would not have been in vain...and that Herc would have the sense not to fight the odds...there were too many dragons for him to beat off on his own.
"Herc!" he screamed into the wind, at the last, feeling only horror that Hercules had to see this. He felt a moment of blinding, tearing pain...and then he felt nothing more.
"IOLAUS!" Hercules screamed when he saw the flames engulf Iolaus...and, then, he saw Iolaus fall from the sky. Hercules dove, desperate to catch Iolaus...but, he was too far away. Horrorstricken, he watched his brother pitch toward the trees below...and, then, just before he hit the treetops, he saw Iolaus transform from the golden dragon back into the warrior hunter. Hercules screamed again in helpless despair...as a dragon, Iolaus might have had some hope of surviving the fall...
The rebel dragons had just noticed him, and now were gathering to fly in to attack him en masse. Triumphant at having stopped the traitor before he could reveal their plans, they now wanted the trophy of the huge patrol dragon...their attention on their new target, they failed to see the golden dragon's transformation. Hercules didn't even notice them...he was transfixed by the last of the terrible drama playing out before his eyes. He saw Iolaus plummet into the trees, and he felt his world, his life, crash and crumble around him. "IOLAUS!" he screamed again. "NNNNNOOOOOOOOO!"
Furling his wings, Hercules plummetted, trying to get to the earth as fast as possible, to find Iolaus... 'Please, no, please, no, please, no.' The litany ran through his mind, an unconscious mantra, as he headed to the spot where he was sure Iolaus had hit...but, then he felt the flames, and wheeled away and up, an unconscious action of self preservation. There were half a dozen rebel dragons coming after him...and then Hal blew in to the battle, flaming...the rebels had not noticed him coming, so intent had they been on the escaping spy, and then on the great bronze. Taken by surprise, they scattered enough to give Hal the time to wheel toward Hercules. "Run!" he shouted, "There're too many!"
Hercules glanced at the rebels massing again to attack, and gazed helplessly down toward the forest below. "Iolaus!" he cried out.
"You can do nothing for him if you're dead! C'mon! NOW!" Hal shouted, flying directly at Hercules, forcing him to wheel away. They had no choice...there were too many enemy dragons to risk a fight...
The sane part of his mind knew Hal was right...but, Hercules' heart was breaking, and all he could see were the images of Iolaus being flamed...and falling into the forest below. Grief and anger filled his chest... gods, he wanted to kill something! He almost turned back, more than once, but the rebels were on their tails. Finally, other border patrol dragons showed up, and they were able to turn, engaging in a fiery battle in the skies. Two of the rebels and one of the border patrol dragons went down in flames before the rebels turned and fled back to their own lines. Again, Hercules wanted to go back to search for Iolaus, but two dragons on their side were injured, and needed to be supported back to the King's fortress in Tarsus. By the time it was over, it was almost dusk.
Hercules turned on the ledge, having finally gotten the dragon dependent upon his help back safely. He was going back...he had to find Iolaus. But, once again, Hal was there, hovering in front of him, not letting him take off.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Hercules raged.
"NO! Hercules...stop! It's almost dark...you'll not find him now...and, stumbling around on the ground, you could trample him...assuming he's even alive. Hercules! I saw it, too...I...I'm sorry...he's dead."
"NO!" Hercules couldn't accept it, not until he'd seen Iolaus' body...he couldn't believe...and then the images crashed back, and he again saw the flames in his mind's eye...saw Iolaus hurtle to the ground. And, the fight went out of him. Slumping, turning away, he thought he might be sick. 'Iolaus! Oh gods! Iolaus...nnnooooo!' his heart moaned in griefstricken loss.
Hal landed beside him, and placed a sympathetic foreleg upon Hercules' shoulder, but Herc flinched away. He didn't want sympathy...he didn't want anyone around him. His control was too tenuous...and, he was afraid he might blindly strike out, in rage and pain.
"Hercules...I'm sorry," Hal said again quietly. Herc ignored him.
Sighing, Hal reached for the voice he'd thought he'd never have the temerity to use with Hercules...a strong voice of command. "You do him no good, crouching here like a wounded wolf...and you dishonour him."
Herc's head snapped up with a snarl. It was all Hal could do not to cringe away from those haunted, tormented eyes. He swallowed, convinced Hercules would never hurt him. "You have to accept it, hard as it is. We still have a war to fight, and we need you."
"I can't just give up on him..." Hercules managed to choke out. "I...I have to find him..."
Hal gazed at Hercules, his own heart breaking with grief. He, too, had loved his little golden brother. "Alright," he relented, "we'll try tomorrow...if we can get into the area without a battle, I'll help you search for him. But now...you have to rest or you'll be no use on a search tomorrow."
He waited. And, finally, Hercules nodded once, tightly, and, but he couldn't bring himself to speak further. He just turned and stalked away down the corridors, toward his chamber. He was using everything he had to maintain some link to sanity, to not rage like a berserker. He didn't see his surroundings...all he could see was Iolaus hanging in the sky, waiting...Iolaus, in flames...Iolaus falling...his fragile, mortal body plummeting into the silent forest.
Halfway to the chamber he and Iolaus normally shared when they visited the fortress, he stopped. He couldn't go there, not to the memories of a living, laughing Iolaus he would find waiting for him there. Ponderously, Herc turned back to the landing ledge. Once there, he stood a long time, staring up into the skies, at the stars, the rising moon...the wisps of clouds. But, he didn't see them...the horrifying memories of Iolaus falling in flames would grant him no respite. Stumbling to the edge over the chasm, he crashed to his knees, retching, his body wrenched with heaving sobs...great, hot dragon tears falling to the earth far below.
Fitch found him there, crouched in the corner of the great ledge, silent tears dropping from his eyes. Quietly, the King moved to his side and crouched beside him, holding his silence for a long time. Finally, softly, Fitch said, "We are all more sorry than you can ever know Hercules...Iolaus was already a hero to us all...the only mortal hero we have ever known. We did not want him to die for us."
Fitch waited, wondering if Hercules was even fully aware that he was there.
"You need to talk about it, Hercules...tell me what happened," Fitch directed, his voice low and gentle, filled with his own grief and empathy for what the great bronze dragon was suffering, but the thread of command was there. Again, he waited, not pushing.
Hercules sighed raggedly, and began to speak haltingly, in a voice broken by grief, and the horror of his memories. "There were nine or ten rebels...chasing him...he tried to escape...but they were much larger... much... faster. I could...tell he was exhausted." Herc paused, remembering. "He turned to fight them...and killed two. Then...he just...stopped...and turned back...to face me. I was too far away to help...he had to have known that I was too far away..."
Hercules paused again, his long neck arcing up as his eyes sought the sky. He took a deep, sobbing breath before continuing again. "He did the...strangest thing. Iolaus rolled twice...deliberately...then...just... waited...until their flames...consumed him...and he...dropped." Hercules turned his head then, to look directly at Fitch for the first time, his eyes glazed with pain. "He transformed...into his own body...just before he hit the trees."
Fitch pressed his eyes closed, denying the terrible image, and swallowed against the bile which burned in his stomach, appalled by the horrifying scene Hercules had witnessed.
Hercules finished his recounting. "I...wanted to search the forest...where he had fallen. But...there were too many rebels...I had to leave him..." Hercules' voice cracked. He was consumed with grief...and guilt. He should have been closer. He should never had let Iolaus go back in the first place. Gods...he couldn't stand it...couldn't stand the memories.
Fitch let the silence stretch a moment, studying the great bronze dragon, knowing he needed to distract Hercules, get him to think about something else...at least get him to accept that Iolaus had had to go back to the rebel stronghold. "Hercules, Hal has told me that Iolaus went back to learn their attack plans."
Hercules nodded. "I didn't want him to go back...he was already too exhausted...but...he said he had to get the information for us..." Hercules remembered watching Iolaus fly away the day before, and wished now with all his heart that he had gone after his friend and dragged him back. He'd known he shouldn't let Iolaus go...he'd known. Two days he'd bargained, when this all began...two days, and then a reevaluation... two days had been one day too long.
"Do you think he learned what he went back to find out?" Fitch asked quietly.
Hercules shook his head, his voice when he finally answered dull, thick with tears. "I don't know...I guess so...probably...does it matter now?"
Fitch thought about what Hercules had told him. Stopped in the air, rolled twice, stopped and waited for the attack...waited to be flamed. It made no sense...unless...Iolaus had been trying to give them a last message. "Hercules, do you remember which direction Iolaus rolled in?"
Hercules turned to face the King again, his face blank. 'What could it possibly matter?' he thought, his mind and spirit raw with pain. But, the look in the King's eyes arrested his attention, forced him to remember again the heartbreaking sight. "To his left...he rolled twice to his left."
Fitch looked away, and up to the stars. "To his left...east to west...a brilliant golden dragon rolling through the sky, east to west, twice...then, stops...and waits for the attack...for the firestorm." Fitch looked back at Hercules, feeling he could weep for the resolute, heartbreaking courage Iolaus had displayed, to get them this final message. "Two days, Hercules...the firestorm begins in two days."
Fitch held Hercules' eyes for a long moment. "Your brother was braver than any being I have ever known, and you have been blessed with his friendship for almost the whole of your life. Iolaus trusted you to bring his message back, to ensure his death would not be in vain. He would be grateful, Hercules, that you helped him make his final mission a..." 'success' didn't seem appropriate, and Fitch groped for the right words. "...that you helped him complete his final mission."
Fitch stopped, letting Hercules think about what Iolaus had accomplished. "I regret his death, Hercules, more than you will ever know. But, he died saving us... Rest tonight...try to sleep. I will need you to fight in two days."
Fitch turned then, and headed back into the tunnels. There was much to be done. 'Iolaus, may the Great Dragon protect you through eternity...thank you, my friend,' Fitch thought, as he called the night guard to rouse his council. There was much to do.
Hercules watched him go, stunned by how the King had understood Iolaus' final message. Stunned that Iolaus had spent his last moments to get them that message, rather than fight, even if hopelessly, to save his own life. 'Gods, Iolaus...you never quit...you never knew how to give up..." Sobs choked his throat again, racking his body.
Hercules couldn't face going back into the tunnels, couldn't face the solitude of his chamber or the thought of sharing the aerie with the other dragons... he needed to be alone with his grief. He'd heard the past tense in his thoughts, and hated himself for accepting that Iolaus was gone. He'd been trying to convince himself that, so long as he did not actually see Iolaus dead, maybe, by some miracle, he had survived. His mind said it was hopeless...but his heart hadn't been willing to let go of the hope. Letting it go now brought fresh grief. Bowing his head, Hercules vowed he would find Iolaus...and take his body home. He'd search again tomorrow, forever if need be...others could fight this damned war.
Much later, somewhere in the heart of the night, Hercules became aware of another presence, quiet, except for a muffled sniffling. co*cking his head, he looked back over his shoulder, and saw Braxus huddled in the shadowed corner of the ledge behind him. "Braxus?"
"I'm sorry…I didn't want to bother…I'm…oh Hercules! I'm so sorry!" the young dragon wailed, huge tears falling from his eyes as he hung his head low to the ground. Such heartfelt, and unrestrained grief touched Hercules' heart…and warmed him, where the careful condolences of others had not reached him.
"Thank you, Braxus…" Hercules said, as he turned to move beside the young dragon, and emulating the behaviour he had seen from other dragons, he looped his head over Braxus' bowed neck, to rub one cheek against that of the smaller dragon. "Iolaus wouldn't want us to be so…sad…."
Braxus sniffed. "I know…I just can't help it…it's not fair!" he wailed. "He was always so brave, and he only ever thought about everybody else, never himself…and…and…I feel so bad that he…that this happened because he was helping us! Oh, Hercules….what are we going to do without him?"
Somehow the impassioned words, which resonated with the emotions echoing in Hercules' soul, unlocked the demigod's horror, unfroze his mind, allowing him to respond to the world around him again.
"I know," he murmured quietly to the young dragon, "I feel just the same…but…he'd want us to… remember the fun…remember the good things he did, that we did together, all of us…and, he'd want us to keep doing good things, Braxus…not stop, just because we miss him so much it hurts to breathe."
Braxus sniffed. "I guess so…it's so hard…." They were silent for long moments, each lost in their own memories. Finally, Braxus asked with a small voice, "Can I stay out here with you tonight? I…don't want to be with anyone else…."
Hercules nodded and sighed. Braxus had had such a hard life…his parents both killed when he'd been so young, being held captive by unscrupulous villains and threatened with death by misled soldiers…being forced to kill just to save himself. The killing had just about broken Braxus' heart…he'd've starved to death rather than kill someone who hadn't attacked him first. He'd learned to hate all men, with good reason. But, somehow the child's heart still held enough innocence and hope to try to trust once more… and so, they had all become friends…In some ways, Hercules knew, he and Iolaus were family for the young dragon. He understood how hard Iolaus'…loss…was for their friend. Iolaus had always gotten such a kick out of Braxus…had felt so bad for having tried to kill him based on the lies he'd been told, and had always tried to make up that first mistake by being extra kind and considerate of the dragon. It would break Iolaus' heart to see Braxus so desperately upset…he'd only ever wanted Braxus to be safe and happy.
"Of course you can stay with me, Braxus…I'd like that," Hercules said aloud. "But, you have to try to get some sleep…Iolaus would be angry with both of us if you made yourself sick over this…you're still not fully recovered from the injuries you've suffered…."
"Ah…I'll be alright….I just wish…I just wish I could have seen him again….you know? I just saw him flying away…."
Hercules almost smiled at that. "You know, Braxus…I think that's the way Iolaus would like you to remember him…as a dragon brother…flying for the love of it…." Far better than the images which would forever haunt Hercules….he frowned, blocking the images away…fighting to push them back.
"Yeah," Braxus sighed, "He sure did love to fly!"
"That he did, Braxus…that he did…." The two dragons settled themselves on the ledge, folding their legs under them, and Herc felt Braxus lean a little against him. He wished he had his arms just then, so that he could have hugged the young dragon...to bring him comfort, and to let Braxus know how much Hercules appreciated having him there beside him. Having to comfort the young dragon brought Hercules' own soul a small measure of peace.
Dawn found Hercules in the air, flying southeast. Close behind him were Hal and Abercrombie. They searched for hours, but finally had to give it up. Iolaus was nowhere to be found...it was as if he'd vanished into the air.
They didn't know there was a hidden, deep hollow, filled with leaves, which they passed time and again as the hours wore on. Didn't know the leaves concealed the body of the brother they searched for so desperately.
Hercules couldn't believe they couldn't find him. Unless...by some miracle...Iolaus had survived the fall, his landing broken and cushioned by the branches of the trees. For a while, hope bloomed anew in his heart. He began to search for tracks, for signs of blood, for some kind of trail, anything...but, there was nothing.
"We have to go back, Hercules...we have to prepare for the battles to come. Iolaus gave his life to allow us to be ready...to take the battle to the rebels...You can't turn your face away from his sacrifice..."
Hercules didn't want to hear it...but, he knew Hal was right. Looking around at the trees, listening to the wind, he could hear the words Iolaus would use... 'What the hell do you think you're doing, Hercules? Get that great butt of your's back into the sky and do what you have to do...I'll still be here when it's done...go on...go!'
Hercules let Abercrombie and Hal drag him away. But, so long as he could find no body, he kept trying to tell himself Iolaus could be alive. Then, the memories would crash in again, clutching at his heart, mocking his hope...but, still, against all reason, he could not give up...
As they headed up into the sky, Hercules felt as if he was abandoning his buddy, when Iolaus needed him most.
Iolaus had heard Hal's voice nearby. He struggled to pull himself back to consciousness, to call out... Hercules had to be there, too. "Herc..." his voice a single breath lost on the breeze which whispered through the forest. And, then, the darkness closed over him again.
When Hercules, Hal and Abercrombie arrived back at the fortress in Tarsus, they went to the King's Hall. When they entered, Fitch glanced up at them, and read their dejection. "You found his body..." he said softly, assuming this was the source of their sorrow.
Hal glanced at Hercules as he shook his head. "No, Sire...we didn't. We found the two Iolaus had killed before they killed him...but...it's as if he's vanished into the air. There was no sign of him."
Fitch frowned at the news as he gazed at Hercules. This would only make it harder on the bronze dragon...he would torture himself with hopes that his brother might still be alive, so long as he could find no body. But, it was hopeless. "Perhaps the rebels took his body back to their stronghold..." he mused.
Abercrombie cleared his throat...blinking back tears really didn't help his sinuses any. "I don't think so, Sire...there would be no reason to do so...and the rebel corpses were still there, untended."
Fitch shrugged. It was a mystery...one they might solve when time permitted. For now, they needed to review their plans for tomorrow's defense.
Briskly, he called them over to the tapestry map on the wall. "Tomorrow, we will meet the rebels here," he said, pointing at the area very near where Iolaus had fallen. "We must hold them there, not allow them closer to Tarsus. Hercules," he turned to the bronze, "I need you to be with us...I need your strength and leadership. Can I count upon your support?"
Hercules raised his head. He'd been following the conversation, but it was remote...he felt numb. Now, looking into Fitch's eyes, he knew he had to pull himself together. Iolaus had died to save the dragons...he could not refuse to help them now. He nodded, "Yes, Fitch, you can count on my help."
The other dragons were concerned by the lack of life in Hercules' voice, and by the dullness of his eyes. But, now was not the time to push him further. If he said he would help, then he would. They trusted his word.
Shortly after, the dragons left the Kings' Hall, each going in their separate directions. Hercules still could not face his silent chamber...so he went back to the ledge, and late in the night, he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. Hal found him there at dawn.
It was dark again. Iolaus had no sense of the passage of time, had no idea he had lain covered by the leaves for a night, a day, and almost another full night. It was the leaves which had saved his life, but they weren't enough to have saved him from severe damage.
He lay in a semistupor until morning light trickled into his hollow. Gradually, he became aware he was still alive. Being dead didn't hurt this much. Moaning, he tried to push himself up, only to yelp in pain and crash back down. Panting, he tried to figure out where the pain had come from. His head was pounding as if all the dragons of Tarsus were jumping on it. His left shoulder was aflame. Reaching tentatively, slowly with his right hand, he felt around the damaged shoulder, and decided it was dislocated. Every breath burned, so that probably meant several cracked or broken ribs. His left hip ached...whatever had caught his shoulder had also caused massive bruising there...and his left knee felt like it had been through a wringer.
'Well, the good news is, you're still breathing,' he told himself, lacking the energy to speak the words out loud. His back was burned, as was his left arm and leg...vaguely, he remembered the heat, the fire which had surrounded him before he'd fallen. Blearily, he finally decided that the pain burned in every part of his body.
But, what hurt most was the memory of the bronze dragon flying on the wind, racing toward him. "Oh, gods, Herc," he moaned aloud then, knowing his buddy had to believe him dead...would carry the image of him falling for the rest of Herc's life. Sighing, his exhausted body wracked with agony, Iolaus thought he might die yet. And, then the other memories crashed in...the war was starting. He'd failed to get word back to Herc. Gods...Greek Fire...the war could spread to Greece. He couldn't be sure Hercules had understood the message Iolaus had tried to give him. Iolaus had to get to Tarsus...had to warn them...had to...
It was this relentless thought which drove him up onto his knees, and then onto his feet. Whatever the cost, he had to get back to Tarsus, or at least attract the attention of one of the King's border guards, as soon as possible.
His shoulder was killing him...he had to deal with it. Picking out a likely tree, he raised his left arm with his right, as high as it would go, then forced his fingers around a branch. He pulled out the twig he had stuck into his belt, and raised it to his mouth, biting down on it hard. Then, twisting and dropping to his knees at the same time, he forced his arm to pop back into the socket. He screamed.
Finally, getting his breathing under control, Iolaus gingerly loosened his belt and pulled it off, looping it over his head and around his neck. It seemed to take forever with his shaking fingers, to loop one end through the other, and tighten it, as a makeshift sling. Wincing, biting back the whimpers that threatened in his throat, his right hand drew his left up and through the sling. Leaning back against the tree, he took time to catch his breath, and let some of the pain recede. Wiping the sweat from his face, and the tears he'd been unable to suppress, he used the tree as a brace to help him get back up onto his feet.
And, then, he headed north.
The pain was bad, but it kept him awake. The overwhelming, muffling exhaustion was worse. He'd been a dragon too long...and the fall couldn't have helped much either.
As the morning dragged on, he became aware of flights of dragons filling the sky...and realized it had begun. "Be careful, Herc," he whispered, as he continued to stumble through the forest toward Tarsus.
The rebels on Dragon Island were stunned to find the opposing forces ready for them, already positioned in the skies between them and Tarsus at dawn...there was no element of surprise. It was a day of raw, bitter violence. The skies of Dragon Island were streaked with flames as dragons pitched, wheeled, rolled, engaging one another in desperate battle.
Hercules had fought mechanically, but proficiently...and he saved countless lives. He became the champion Fitch's warriors looked to for inspiration and leadership. He had fought in the middle space of sky, between the rebel stronghold and Tarsus, holding the rebels away from the capital of Dragon Island...he had fought over the place where Iolaus had fallen, his memories of that day lending him a ruthlessness he rarely carried into battle.
At one point, the fighting was particularly intense. The air was filled with flames and smoke. Dodging a rebel's fire, Hercules wheeled, and saw Hal engaged with two rebels, unaware another was closing on his blind side. "Hal!" Hercules screamed a warning, as he wheeled tightly and dropped, coming between Hal and his attacker, meeting flame with flame. Herc's defensive move resulted in severe damage to the attacker's wing, and the rebel dropped away, occupied now with saving his own life. Hercules didn't give chase...he turned and assisted Hal in beating back the two rebels he was still fighting desperately. Finally, the others gave up and pulled away.
"Hercules!" Hal panted, hovering as he quickly scanned the immediate area, "You saved my life! Thank you, brother!"
Hercules gave Hal a slight smile, glad to have been in the right place at the right time, but he shook his head, calling as he wheeled off to meet other attackers, "No more than you would have done for me...brother!"
Scores of dragons suffered injuries, and at least a dozen had died...almost ten percent of the island's population had been disabled or killed. This war could not go on...or they would fight themselves into extinction. Finally, dusk fell, bringing the hostilities to a close on the first day of the firestorm.
As the forces pulled back away from one another, Hercules could not resist a final sweep down to the forest...to take a few precious moments to search again.
His angling away from the main force from Tarsus had not gone unnoticed. High above, Padraic watched him swirl down, infuriated with this great bronze dragon...and the role he had played in their defeat that day. If he'd not been there, Padraic was convinced his forces could have pushed through to fire Tarsus. Waiting until the King's forces were out of sight, he called what remained of his own force back, and they took a position over the forest, hovering in the deepening dusk, waiting for the bronze dragon to emerge.
"I want him alive," Padraic commanded them. "I want them to know I have their champion...and I want to make him suffer."
It only took moments for Hercules to spot the signs on the ground. The mound of leaves which had buried Iolaus in the hollow by the tree had been thrown about, revealing blood below. He saw the tracks...the sign of a man stumbling away, north...toward Tarsus.
Tears burned his eyes, blurring the sign of the tracks, dim now in the waning light of the dense forest. A great sob tore through him, and he staggered, unable to stand in his relief. Iolaus was alive. Gods. Iolaus was alive!
He looked into the darkening forest, realizing he could not follow his friend's trail in the night...and there was no way of knowing when Iolaus had started his journey. Clearly, he was badly hurt...the tracks of dragging feet, the signs of knees hitting the ground...told him that. But, Hercules had faith in Iolaus...if he was alive, then he'd make it back to Tarsus somehow. He might already be close to the island's capital. Herc had to get back, had to tell the others. War or no war...they had to search for Iolaus... search until they found him.
His heart singing, Hercules launched himself up. Iolaus was alive!
His jubilation, and consequent lack of attention, left him vulnerable. Lost in his thoughts of his friend, he had not noticed the gathering of dragons above him until he burst up through the trees...and then they were all around him, blocking every avenue of escape...too many to fight his way through. There were more than fifty dragons surrounding him in the darkening sky...fighting them would be futile...and he knew it.
Iolaus couldn't remember a more difficult journey. The flight of dragons above, their exchange of fire as they battled for supremacy, the occasional glimpses he had of Hercules, and other dragons he cared about during the long day, fuelled his sense of urgency and determination to get back to Tarsus. Gods, they would be in such danger once the mortals supporting Hera and Ares brought the Greek Fire into the war…it could happen any time now. He had to warn them…they needed to be aware, to prepare.
But, his determination was impeded by his injuries and overwhelming exhaustion…it seemed hard to even breathe, to stay awake, let alone push his way through seemingly endless forests, and over the shoulders of mountains. He didn't even bother trying to count how many times he stumbled and fell, how many times he had to drag himself back up onto his feet. He stopped worrying about being dizzy, and made his way by moving from a hold on one tree to another. He also stopped worrying about which part of his body hurt most… everything hurt and he didn't want his ribs to be offended if he accorded pride of place to the burns, or to the twisted knee.
He knew he'd never make it on his own that day. The miles had dragged past under his feet, and, though it was hard to know for sure, he thought he had only travelled about eight or nine miles by the time dusk began to fall. Eight miles…from sunrise to sunset…a full day to cover what he could normally achieve in a couple hours, much less if he was pushing it. As the day faded, he stumbled into an open meadow, the grass waving almost as high as his waist.
Above him, he could see dragons heading back to Tarsus…by the gods, there were scores of them filling the sky. He wished he had the strength to shout, or wave his good arm…but, he didn't. Frustrated, impatient with his weakness, he leaned heavily on a branch he had gathered from a wood fall to help support himself across the open meadowland. Knowing the odds of being seen were low, he turned, head down, and continued his solitary, painful march to Tarsus.
High above the meadowland, Hal was watching the environment, alert to any ambush. A flash of the sun on gold far below drew his eye…and the gold was joined by a hint of purple. He focused his vision, and, for a moment, he wondered if he was seeing things. The golden hair was somewhat matted with blood, and the shoulders were slumped, the gait uncertain…but, there was no mistaking him...it was his brother!
Hal startled the dragons near him with a trumpet of the purest joy, then he dove, practically headlong, down to the meadowlands, wings back flat, until he was about one hundred feet above the ground, then his wings opened, and he arched his body back, to land feet first on the grassland just ahead of where Iolaus had been walking.
Iolaus had heard Hal's joyful cry echo from the sky, had seen the shadow of the dragon's approach, and stood waiting, a broad grin lighting his face, immeasurably relieved to see his dragon brother. In moments, Hal was beside Iolaus, his dragon eyes glittering with tears of relief, and of gratitude that the Eternal Dragon had seen fit to spare his brother's life.
"Brother!" Hal, cried, "I'd given you up for lost! The Eternal Dragon must favour you, Iolaus!"
Iolaus thought of the terrifying dive to the earth, the pain and the seemingly endless walk back to Tarsus, and wasn't so sure…but, he was still alive, and he supposed that was a miracle. He patted Hal's side, almost too tired to talk. "You have no idea...how glad I am...to see you, Hal! I hoped...I wasn't going to have to...walk all the way...back!" Looking up into the skies, he asked, "Where's Herc…wasn't he with you?"
"Absolutely, Iolaus…he gave us hope, courage and inspiration...and, he saved my life!" Hal scanned the skies, but did not see the bronze they sought. "It's not yet dusk…I suspect he's gone back to search…."
"Search? Search for what?" Iolaus asked, having a hard time staying awake.
"For you, my brother…he could never accept that the fall had killed you…he's searched for you with his every free moment…I think it was only the thought that you would be angry with him if he did not fight with us that persuaded him to give up the search to fly with us."
Iolaus grinned, shaking his head. "Damn straight...I'd'a...given him...hell! Gods, there are nations...at stake here. "
Hal thought to himself, 'You've more worth than any nation to Hercules…don't you know that?' But, aloud, he only said, "Let's get you back to Tarsus and cleaned up…if Hercules sees you looking like this, you'll scare the life out of him."
Iolaus looked down at the dirt, the blood, the burns, the scrapes and gouges that covered his body, and he nodded. Gods, he was tired. He looked up at Hal's great height, and wondered how he was going to mount with a bad arm, bad leg, and no strength to speak of.
Hal caught the look, and crouched close to the ground, his forelegs straight in front of him. "Iolaus…when I lower my head, drop yourself across my neck and hold on with your good arm…I'll swing you up and over, and you can slip down onto my back. We're not far from Tarsus…you only have to stay awake a little while longer."
Iolaus grinned again, his face grey and pinched, but his eyes were alight, and the smile was real. He did as Hal instructed him, bending over the neck stretched out beside him, grunting a little at the pressure this put on his ribs, then hugged Hal with his right arm as Hal carried him up and over the dragon's massive back. Gingerly, Iolaus slipped down, holding onto Hal's neck to steady himself a moment, then slid into a seated position, gripping the ridge at the base of Hal's neck. "I'm ready," he murmured, his voice rough with weakness.
Hal bobbed his head once, then launched himself smoothly into the sky, feeling the urgency to get Iolaus back to Tarsus as soon as possible. The hero was in worse shape than he perhaps fully realized, but Hal recognized the signs resulting from Iolaus' having been too long a dragon, let alone the impacts and implications of the other injuries he had suffered. It was truly a miracle that he was still alive...but, he would not remain so long if they did not soon restore his life force...and, for that, they needed Hercules.
Certain the bronze dragon could not be far behind them, Hal angled toward Tarsus, flying level to minimize the need for Iolaus to grip to retain his perch. He wanted to conserve as much of his brother's energy as possible. They would let him rest before the ceremony, and they'd be ready when Hercules returned.
Hercules faced the dragons which surrounded him. A large green dragon flew through the cluster of bodies flapping their wings to maintain their positions in the air, to confront him. Behind the green dragon came another he recognised. Silas. Fitch's appointment secretary. Wonderful. No one had thought the rebels had penetrated so far into Fitch's circle of advisors and supporters. He remained silent, waiting to see what would happen next...and remembered what Iolaus had told them the first day about having to come up with an alias. Iolaus had told Hercules and Hal that he had chosen the name of Arturos.
Padraic brought himself to a hover just in front of Hercules, a little overwhelmed by the bronze dragon's size, but comforted by the mass of warriors he had around him. Silas had told him about having seen this dragon with the small, golden one, Arturos the spy, two days ago in Fitch's palace deep in the mountains of Tarsus.
"You seem to be a little lost...and alone..." Padraic began, somewhat sarcastically.
Hercules' blue eyes blazed into the brown eyes of the smaller dragon. "I'm not lost...and, I'm hardly alone with all of you around me. Who are you...and what do you want?"
Padraic laughed a little, and shook his head. "Do you always fight without knowing your enemy? I am Padraic, the rightful King of Dragon Island. And, you my friend, have been fairly caught. You will return with us to our stronghold, and then we'll decide what to do with you."
Padraic made to turn, without waiting for a response, when he hesitated, as if just thinking of a new question. "I assume you are searching for the traitor's remains..."
Hercules cut in, his anger controlled but nevertheless clear in his voice, "He was no traitor."
Padraic smiled patronizingly. "Not to you, perhaps...it's all in your perspective. Silas has told me he saw you and the little one in Fitch's palace...it was Silas who alerted us to his true nature."
Hercules' eyes swung to regard Silas. He remained silent, but Silas pulled back a bit, feeling a force of anger that was tangible emanating from the huge bronze. Silas almost sighed with relief when the eyes turned back to Padraic.
"Nothing to say? Silas assumed the lad was your son. If so, you must feel his loss keenly."
Hercules looked away, unwilling to explain...certainly not willing to share what he felt with this dragon.
"Hmmm...what's your name?" Padraic asked.
Hercules turned his regard back to the supercilious dragon. "Justinus," he replied, without elaboration.
"Well, Justinus, you will come with us...and you will make no trouble, or we will kill you. Do you understand?"
Hercules looked around at the gathering of dragons, filling the air around him. "Yes," he said, "I understand."
"Good." Pandraic turned in the air, and, moving to the head of his rebel force, he led the way back to his stronghold. He smiled to himself as he thought of the message he would send to Fitch, imagining the look on his cousin's face when he learned Padraic had his champion...and that he would kill the bronze at dawn.
Iolaus was sprawled, barely conscious, on a cot he had used during his past sojourns with the dragons. Abercrombie, overwhelmed with relief at his survival, had hastily prepared a large dose of the herbal concoction, to replace some of his lost strength...but, all the dragons knew this would not be enough to save their mortal hero. Fitch had come earlier, immediately upon hearing that Hal had found Iolaus, and Iolaus had wasted no time telling him of the Greek Fire the gods planned to use if the war ignited in Greece.
"I'm sorry, Fitch," Iolaus murmured. "I tried to get back to warn you about the assault plans, but..."
Fitch had hastily placed one claw lightly on Iolaus' shoulder, "You did warn us, Iolaus...Hercules brought you message back and we were prepared. Rest...you did all that was necessary...much more than was required of you. I...I am humbled by your courage, my friend...and words will never be found to convey my gratitude for all you have done...all you have given, suffered...for us."
Iolaus smiled softly, his eyelids drooping, relieved to have given his message...relieved that his warning had been understood. He could relax now...rest. If only Hercules were here...
Fitch gazed down upon the semiconscious mortal. His wounds needed care, but there were no mortals here to help him, and dragons did not have the skill to treat mortals beyond basic care. Abercrombie had washed the dirt and blood from Iolaus' body, had delicately bandaged his head, back, left arm and had placed herbs upon the worst of his injuries to aid in his healing. But, none of this would save his life. For that, they needed Hercules...and needed him soon.
Fitch looked up at Abercrombie, saw the somber, anxious look in his old friend's eyes, then he gazed at Hal, who was standing quietly to one side. co*cking his head, Fitch indicated they should follow him out into the passageway, where they could speak without disturbing the warrior.
Once they had travelled far enough down the tunnel for privacy, Fitch turned back to face his trusted advisors. "Where is Hercules? He should have returned more than an hour ago."
Hal looked away, unhappily aware that night had fallen, knowing his brother should have been back long before. He was very worried. "I don't know, Sire...I had assumed he had taken the last moments of light to again search for Iolaus. He would have found the signs of Iolaus' survival, and I had thought he would fly straight here, to get our help in searching for our brother. I...something must have happened to him."
"Indeed," responded Fitch, drily. "I want you to fly back over the territory we contested today, and see if you can find any indication of what has delayed him." Fitch paused, looking back toward the chamber where Iolaus rested, waiting for his best friend. "I don't have to tell you how urgent it is that we do what must be done."
Abercrombie shook his head. "I'm afraid we don't have much time left..." The old dragon's voice was heavy with sadness. He loved the little mortal, as much as he had ever loved any of his kind, and he was sorely afraid Iolaus' sacrifice on their behalf was going to cost his life.
Fitch nodded, co*cking his head at Hal, dismissing him. As Hal moved past, heading toward the fortress' entrance, Fitch murmured, "May the Eternal Dragon guide you..."
Hal had just launched into the night, when he spotted one of the border patrol racing toward the fortress. He pulled up in the air, waiting, calling out when the dragon got closer, afraid of what he was about to hear. They all knew the rebels must have taken Hercules, and he cursed himself for not having remained with his brother.
"Bartos," he called, "why have you left your sector?"
Recognising Hal, Bartos, the large amber dragon Iolaus had encountered four days ago, pulled up, hovering in the air. "One of the rebels brought a message under a flag of truce...I'm sorry to tell you, sir...they have Hercules. Worse, they say they will execute him at dawn."
Hal felt as if he had been hit by a blast of fire. 'By the Eyes of the Great Dragon,' he thought, 'we're going to lose them both!' Turning, he called over his shoulder, "Come with me...we must tell the King immediately."
Iolaus knew there was something wrong when Fitch and Hal came back into his chamber. Much as he desperately wanted to sleep, he wanted to see Hercules more, and he had been becoming increasingly restless, wondering why Hercules had not come. In his heart, he'd known something was wrong, and the expressions in the eyes of the dragons told him he'd been right.
Before they could speak, he asked urgently, "What's happened to Hercules?"
Abercrombie's head snapped up...he'd been half dozing in the corner, and had not read the signs in his friends' eyes, but now he could see from their stances that something dreadful had happened. Fitch looked sadder than Abercrombie had ever seen him be before...and Hal looked distraught. Before coming to Iolaus, the two dragons had debated whether to tell the dying mortal what they knew...but, they had decided he had a right to know.
Fitch lowered his head, to be level with Iolaus' eyes, remembering how this mortal had climbed into the coffin with Hercules so many years ago, electing to die with Hercules, rather than let him die alone. Fitch wished he had the capacity to touch as a mortal did, to give this man the comfort he would need when he heard what had transpired. Holding Iolaus' eyes, he murmured quietly, his saddened voice filled with empathy for the mortal.
Iolaus, seeing the look, steeled himself...this wasn't going to be good. 'Oh gods, Herc...please...don't let him tell me you're dead,' he thought, as he held his breath.
"I'm sorry, Iolaus...we have just received word that Hercules has been captured by the rebel force." Fitch watched Iolaus absorb this news, saw the minute relaxation of the mortal's body, his relief that Hercules was alive only too clear. Fitch looked away for a moment, dreading having to tell him the rest. "They plan to execute him at dawn."
Iolaus' eyes widened in shock and denial. "No," he whispered. "NO!" he said again, his voice a breathy shout as he struggled to rise on the cot. "We can't let that happen...we have to go after him!"
Fitch placed a gentle claw on his shoulder, pushing the man carefully back down onto his back. Regretfully, he shook his head. "I'm very sorry, but if we attack, we can assume they will simply kill him immediately. There's nothing we can do..."
Iolaus stared at Fitch, looked to Hal and Abercrombie for support, but saw in their eyes, before they shifted their gaze away, that they agreed with Fitch. There had to be something he could do...he couldn't just lie here and let Hercules die. There had to be something. Frowning, he considered the dilemma...if they couldn't attack, maybe they could trade...
"Fitch," Iolaus looked back into the eyes of the King, "maybe...maybe they would accept the golden dragon in trade. They would be furious to learn I survived their attack...and...Padraic is crazy enough to want revenge...it might be more satisfying to him to punish me that to simply execute Hercules."
Abercrombie protested. "No, Iolaus, you can't do this...you haven't the strength...they'll kill you!"
His eyes flashing, Iolaus turned on Abercrombie, "They'll kill Herc if I don't go! I will not let that happen." His eyes softening at the sadness he saw in the old dragon's eyes, he continued quietly, "None of you have said it...but, we all know...I'm not going to recover. Let me do this for Hercules..." Turning to Fitch, he begged, "Please, we have to try..."
Fitch swallowed as he gazed into the gallant mortal's eyes. Never had he seen such devotion, and he could feel Iolaus' desperate desire to save his friend...it was in his eyes, in his expression...in the sound of his voice, and in the way he held his body, as he waited impatiently for Fitch's answer...ready to argue further if need be.
Finally, Fitch bowed his head. "Alright, Iolaus, if this is what you wish. I will send the offer...but, I cannot guarantee they will accept it."
Iolaus sagged in relief. "Thank you," he whispered. Then, thinking ahead, realizing Hercules would never leave him there, would fight, and risk his life pointlessly to try and save Iolaus if he knew the trade was being made. "In your message, use the name Arturos when referring to me. Tell them...tell them they can send an escort to meet me behind the mountain to the south of their stronghold, and that they can escort me in after the bronze has been released...that your dragons will stand guard to see they will honour their bargain and to escort the bronze home...Perhaps, you could hint that you will attack, wipe them out, if they refuse this trade, so that it is in their interest to make the switch if Padraic feels any reluctance..."
Iolaus wished he could think of a reason to compel Padraic not to tell the bronze dragon who was being traded for his freedom, but knew if they stressed this point, Padraic would only be more certain to torment Hercules with the information...and then Herc would refuse to leave. He'd have to trust the Fates to give him a break with this one...to somehow keep the information from Hercules for the time it took for him to make his escape.
"It will be as you wish, Iolaus," Fitch agreed, then stood to his full height to go. As he neared the entrance to the tunnels beyond, Iolaus called to him once more, "Thanks, Fitch...and, please, make sure no one tells Herc until he's back here..."
Without turning back, Fitch nodded, then moved away, out of their sight.
Hal and Abercrombie had listened to the exchange silently, but was unprepared to let this happen, to let Iolaus sacrifice himself like this. Following the King out of the chamber, Hal called after Fitch. "Wait, Sire," and when Fitch hesitated, half turning, Hal continued, "We cannot just leave Iolaus to their mercies..."
Fitch gave the younger dragon a half smile. "I do not intend to abandon Iolaus, Hal...but, we need Hercules to have any hope of saving your brother. Once Hercules is away from the stronghold, we will meet him with our full force, explain what has happened, and we will all go back to rescue Iolaus."
Abercrombie responded somberly. "They'll kill him before we can reach him..."
Fitch lowered his head a moment, then came back to his full height. "Perhaps...but, if we do not do this, he will die anyway before the sun reaches its zenith tomorrow. We have no choice."
"You could offer me in his place," Hal said quietly.
Fitch smiled sadly as he shook his head, "I'm sorry, Hal...I know your offer is sincere...and courageous. But, Padraic would not accept you in trade for the great bronze he has in his possession...he may not even accept the small gold."
Sighing, Fitch turned back to find a messenger to speed toward the rebel stronghold. "We can only hope his desire for revenge is stronger than his desire to deny us the bronze's service."
Iolaus looked up at Abercrombie when the large old dragon reentred his chamber. The old dragon looked...defeated. "It's alright, Abercrombie...I have no regrets about any of this..." Iolaus felt his energy flagging, making it hard to stay conscious. And he knew he needed to rest, to be ready for his last flight. "Maybe you could give me a little more of that magical herbal potion you have," he said with a wink and a weak approximation of his co*cky smile.
Abercrombie raised his head to look at Iolaus, stricken anew by the warrior's grey pallor and evident weakness...and marvelled at the light in his eyes, the determination...and the humour he sought to convey. Turning to a stone shelf carved into the wall of the cavern, Abercrombie lifted the goblet he had already prepared, knowing Iolaus would need the mixture every few hours to retain his fragile link with life for as long as possible. It was only a matter of a step to bring him to Iolaus' side. He lowered the goblet into Iolaus' shaking hands, and when the warrior struggled to rise to drink the potion, he very gently eased his forepaw under the warrior's head and shoulders, helping him to rise enough to drink.
Iolaus flashed him a smile of gratitude, drank all that was in the goblet, then closed his eyes as Abercrombie lowered him back down onto the cot, before easing the goblet from between his clasped hands.
"Rest now, Iolaus," Abercrombie whispered, keeping his voice as steady as possible. He wanted to weep for this mortal...for this friend. But, tears would not help Iolaus...would only distract him, cause him to use more precious energy to comfort the dragon's grief. No, he could not cry. Not yet.
Abercrombie had dimmed the torches burning in the chamber, hoping the soft light and quiet would relax the weak warrior, help him slip into sleep. Gradually, the old dragon became aware that the shadows in the tunnel, just outside the chamber entrance, were moving and he lumbered over to investigate. It wasn't with a great deal of surprise that he found Braxus lurking just outside of the room, where he could see Iolaus, and reassure himself that his friend was, indeed, still alive.
When Braxus saw Abercrombie coming toward him, and realized he'd been found out, he whispered, "Sorry…I know I shouldn't be here…but…I just had to see him!"
Iolaus, although he lay with his eyes closed, was not asleep, and he heard the dragon whispers in the entry way (dragons were never as quiet as they thought they were being), and he called out, "Who's there, Abercrombie? Why are they hiding in the tunnel?"
Abercrombie swung his great head around to look over his shoulder at the man reclining on the cot. "It's only Braxus…he wanted to see for himself that you're here….:
"Braxus!" Iolaus cut in, a joyful note in his voice, "Braxus, come in…let me see you…why are you lurking out there…come in!" If he could have, Iolaus would have bounded onto his feet to go to meet the young dragon, and, as it was, he tried to struggle up, only to be defeated by the combination of his bad shoulder, cracked ribs and bruised hip.
"Lay still!" Abercrombie commanded, turning back into the room, followed by a shamefaced young dragon.
"I'm sorry, Iolaus," Braxus said quietly, "I didn't mean to disturb you…."
"Nonsense," interrupted Iolaus, his grin fading as he saw Braxus' partially healed injuries. "I'm glad to see you…what happened to you? Are you alright?"
Braxus looked at his almost healed, but still rather blackened wing. "Oh…I'm okay…really…don't worry…I just got caught in a rebel ambush…stupid…I should have been watching better where I was going…"
"They ambushed you! Gods, I'm glad you're alright…damn them! Bad enough they're threatening a war…but to sneak around, and ambush innocent dragons…." Iolaus' weak voice was filled with indignation.
Abercrombie intervened, placing a light claw on Iolaus' shoulder. "You're babbling, my friend…and you are supposed to be resting."
"Uh, yeah…I know," Iolaus responded, pausing for a moment, then continuing, his voice softer. "I'm just really glad to see you, Braxus. I've been thinking about you….You know, I tried to be like you when I was pretending to be a dragon…."
"Really?" the young one breathed, his eyes shining.
"Oh yeah…you're always so…I don't know, enthusiastic and honest, so open to learning new stuff…so decent to everyone around you…well, I figured you were the perfect example for me to try to follow when I headed into the rebel camp."
Braxus sniffed, touched very deeply by this…but also because, while Iolaus spoke calmly, his voice was very weak, and he had no colour in his skin….his face, chest, arms, hands…everything was a pale gray…and his breathing didn't sound all that good...only his eyes were bright, glowing with life. Braxus wasn't a child…and, anyway, he'd seen death before…he knew what it looked like. Sighing deeply, he lowered his head to Iolaus', anointing the warrior with gentle, very light, dragon kisses on his hair, forehead, cheeks and nose. Iolaus couldn't help himself…he started to giggle as he wrapped his good arm around his dragon buddy's neck and hugged him tight. "Oh, Braxus! I've missed you!" he said softly.
Braxus stopped his affectionate gestures, and looked into his friend's eyes. "I've missed you too…and I've been so worried about you! More than you know!"
Iolaus sniffed a little, then grinned up at the dragon. "Thanks, Braxus…but, you shouldn't ever worry… everything works out just the way it's supposed to…."
"But," the dragon tried to keep the wail from his voice, "I thought you were dead! Oh, Iolaus, I don't ever want you to die!"
Iolaus hugged the young dragon harder, while he struggled to find his voice… "Ah, Braxus…I'm sorry you've been worried…and thank you for caring about me…means a lot to me…you mean a lot to me….but," he had to lay back on the pillows, his energy flagging, his voice very weak, "we all have our time, Braxus…sometimes, we just have to accept that….it's not a bad thing…dying is just the last part of living…" Iolaus looked to Abercrombie for help.
The old dragon captured Braxus' eyes with his own. "What Iolaus is trying to say, is that it's the reality of death which makes life so precious..why it's important to experience all we can…and let people know we love them, because we only ever have so much time…it's neither good, nor bad…it's just about living as well as we can…so we can greet death without regrets."
Iolaus smiled brilliantly up at the dragon. "That's it, Abercrombie," he whispered, "that's exactly it! And, I can tell you both…I don't have any regrets…." He looked from one to the other, but neither could hold his eyes, both dipped their heads, and there were tears in their eyes. "Ah guys…please… don't…"
Knowing they were distressing their friend, and that he had to conserve his strength, had to rest, they both brought themselves back under control. Braxus understood he had to go, so he whispered softly, "I just want you to know I love you, Iolaus…."
"I love you, too, Braxus," Iolaus murmured back, stroking the young dragon's neck, and then Braxus abruptly turned and left the room before he again lost control, heading back into the shadows of the tunnels beyond. Iolaus wiped his fingers across his eyes and sniffed. Looking up at Abercrombie, he muttered, "Gods, Abercrombie, I honestly don't have any regrets…I just really hate saying good-bye…."
Abercrombie bent his head, to touch his chin to the top of Iolaus' head. "I know, child…I know." Bringing his head up again, he looked down at Iolaus, pretending to be stern, "But…now, you must sleep…you'll need your strength to do what you wish tomorrow."
Iolaus nodded and closed his eyes. "Thanks Abercrombie," he murmured, as he finally let himself drift away. The old dragon was right…he needed to be strong enough to fly, one more time.
Padraic listened to the messenger, who had flown in under a flag of truce, his eyes glowing ever brighter as the recitation continued. He'd been furious to learn the gold runt had survived. By the Eternal Dragon, the only satisfaction he had felt from the sorry treachery was the knowledge the creature had been flamed...had paid for his duplicity. He felt a rage grow within his heart. By the Eternal Dragon, he swore again, he wanted to have the gold dragon under his claws, wanted to personally rip his heart out.
When the messenger paused, waiting quietly for a response, Padraic thought of the great bronze he had in his possession. It would be satisfying to execute Fitch's champion...but, they could kill him in battle. His death was ordained by the same Fates who would make him the rightful king. He'd lose nothing by letting the bronze go now...and would gain the cold satisfaction of revenge.
"Tell Fitch, I agree to his terms," he said haughtily to the messenger. "We will look for the gold in the hour before dawn. If he fails to appear in the stated area, I will proceed with the execution."
The messenger nodded, and turned to follow his escort from the stronghold.
Padraic gazed into the air around him, debating whether to gloat over the bronze. Silas thought the gold was the bronze's son...and it would be sweet to see his reaction when he learned who was being traded to secure his release. But, no. Regrettably, no. If Silas was correct, the bronze would refuse to leave...and that would deny him the pleasure of revenge. No...the bronze would be told nothing...simply escorted to the landing ledge, and told to go.
Iolaus slept most of the night under Abercrombie's watchful eyes. He was restless, muttering in his sleep, calling out for Hercules, moaning a little in pain. But, whatever fitful rest he was getting, it was better than none at all. Abercrombie dreaded the moment of his transformation back into a dragon when the hour of the exchange arrived. At most he believed Iolaus could not survive past the next sunfall, and that would have only been with no more exertion, with only rest and care to help him cling to life. Becoming a dragon again, flying again... Abercrombie shook his head in sorrow. His life force would dissipate like the dew under the heat of the sun.
Iolaus had awakened once, around the middle of the night, and had glowed with relief and joy when he'd heard Padraic had accepted the exchange. He'd rested more deeply then, content that what was left of his life would buy Hercules' survival.
And now, it was time to wake him...time to give him a final draft of the herbal potion. Abercrombie truly believed Iolaus would not survive long enough to be rescued, to be returned to the King's fortress. Waking Iolaus gently, he decided to give the warrior one more reason to keep fighting...one more hope to cling onto. His spirit was strong, or he would not have survived the fall...would not still be breathing when others would have long ago perished.
"Iolaus," he called, drawing the warrior to full wakefulness, "it's time." Waking, Iolaus reached for the goblet he saw in Abercrombie's claws, and with the dragon's support, drank it down gratefully, then continued to pull himself up. His left shoulder ached dreadfully, but Iolaus was sure it was strong enough for what he had to do this morning. The burns, bruises, cuts...he pushed the pain and discomfort away. He didn't have the time or energy to acknowledge them.
"Morning," he finally said, with as much brightness as he could muster, to Abercrombie, and to Hal, who was waiting in the entrance to the tunnels. The dragons nodded solemnly, their eyes dark with grief. "Hey, guys! C'mon...don't...don't be sorry about this...I'm not."
Abercrombie looked at Hal, who looked away. They would not burden him with the words of their sorrow, but neither would they let him pass without knowing his loss would pain them deeply. The knowledge of their love for him was the only thing left they could give him...except, Abercrombie thought, except for a meagre hope.
"Iolaus," the old dragon said, "we are not intending to give up on you. Once Hercules is clear...we are going back for you...all of us. You must hang on until we can free you."
Iolaus gazed up at his friend. Abercrombie had always held a special place in his heart. "Thank you...but, I don't want anyone risking their lives to save one which is already dead," he replied softly.
Hal hissed, but Abercrombie continued with his message of hope. "So long as you are alive, my friend, there is hope. If we can bring you back in time...and so long as Hercules is with you...we may yet be able to restore your life force. Do not give up, Iolaus."
At that, Iolaus paused a moment, amazed to learn there may yet be something that could be done for him. Then he grinned, with a shadow of his co*cky demeanor. "Hey, Abercrombie...you know me better than that! I never give up!"
Abercrombie smiled back at this retort. "That's the spirit, my son...I would expect no less from you. Now, it is time to go."
Iolaus stood, and leaned against the old dragon, taking a moment to hug his neck. He'd not missed the appellation, and he had to blink a bit at the tears which clouded his eyes when Abercrombie had called him 'son'. He loved this old dragon, and was deeply honoured, and touched, by the words. "I love you, too," he whispered softly. Sniffing, he stood back, and led the dragons into the tunnel...a little shaky, but determined to manage under his own steam. He had to prove to himself he had the strength to walk... otherwise, he couldn't be sure he'd be able to fly.
Fitch was waiting on the landing ledge, and Iolaus' escort was already in the air. Iolaus expected to have the transformation ceremony conducted before he left, and was surprised when Hal indicated he was to climb onto the back of a sturdy blue dragon who was waiting for them on the edge of the ledge.
"But..."
"No, 'but's,' Iolaus," Fitch intervened. "You need to conserve as much strength as possible...Hal will transform you when you reach the exchange area, before the rebels arrive to escort you in."
Iolaus smiled softly, grateful for this unexpected respite. "Thanks," he murmured. Then, just before he went to the blue, he touched Fitch lightly on the foreleg, "And...Fitch...in case I...don't see you again, I wanted you to know, it's been an honour to know you...a privilege to be your friend."
Fitch lowered his head, his great eyes swirling a regal look directly into Iolaus', as he said firmly, "The honour...and the privilege...have been mine. But...I fully expect to see you again...very soon."
Iolaus chuckled at that, and turned to climb onto the blue, who launched into the air as soon as Iolaus had signalled his readiness, Hal rising directly behind them. In the dark of the hours before dawn, the cluster of dragons headed to the south.
The sky lightened as they flew...the distance was not far, even with having to circle wide around the rebel stronghold to come at it from the south. The light was growing, the world a dim grey, when they dropped to the earth half a mile south of the meeting area. Iolaus slipped from the blue's back and waited for Hal to approach him.
Hal regarded his brother steadily for a moment, hating the spectre of death he could see hovering in Iolaus' eyes, and in the haunting gray hollows of his face. Then, he reached out, drawing a thin line over Iolaus' heart, repeating the gesture over his own. Mingling his blood with Iolaus', his claw resting lightly on Iolaus' chest, he intoned, "Brother to..."
"Brother to..." Iolaus joined with him.
"Brother," they said together...and Iolaus felt again the dizziness, and sneezed...blowing smoke. He giggled a bit as he looked up at Hal, once again in his golden dragon form.
"Let's go!" Iolaus called eagerly, as he launched into the air, determined to give no sign of the weakness he felt. He only had to last a few minutes as a dragon...he was sure he'd revert to his mortal form soon after he was in the stronghold...he didn't have the energy to stave off the transformation for long.
As soon as he was advised that the golden dragon had arrived, Padraic went personally to escort Hercules from his possession. The bronze was awake, having spent the night reviewing his options, searching for ideas on how to make his escape...he knew he could tear the mountain apart, if he had to, but he really didn't want to have to murder every dragon who got in his way. Hercules looked up, surprised to see Padraic...he hadn't expected the pretender until dawn, when he knew his execution was planned to take place. Hercules had no intention of dying...certainly not before he had made sure Iolaus had been found, and was alright. It was anxiety for Iolaus, whom he knew had to be in bad shape from the fall, as much as for himself, that had kept him pacing through the night, back and forth across the barren cavern he'd been imprisoned within the evening before.
"Come with me, Justinus," Padraic said, signally the guard dragons to fall in on either side and behind.
Wordlessly, Hercules followed Pandraic from the cavern, down the darkened tunnels, surprised when he realized they were heading for the hidden landing platform. When they arrived, Pandraic stepped to one side, and turned to face him. "You are free, Justinus...return to Fitch's fortress."
"What? Why?" Hercules asked, in complete astonishment mixed with a good deal of suspicion. This was just a little too easy...what was going on?
"The reasons do not concern you...just go...now." Padraic nodded to the guards, signalling them to shove Hercules toward the lip of the stony platform. Herc brushed them off in irritation. This made no sense. But, he wouldn't learn what was going on by staying here. With one last puzzled look at Padraic, he launched into the air, heading for Tarsus...more than half expecting to be ambushed on the way.
Fitch's dragons, the rebel escort sent for 'Arturos', and Iolaus hovered just over the shoulder of the mountain fortress, from which vantage point they could see Hercules rise from the ledge below and fly north, without him noticing them. Once he was clear of the far mountain, and out of sight, Iolaus started to fly toward his rebel escort.
Hal called softly, "Remember Abercrombie's words...and Fitch's. The King spoke for all of us, brother... be strong."
Iolaus threw Hal a look over his shoulder, and winked. "I love you, Hal," he called back quietly, hovering a moment in the air, not really believing he'd see this dragon brother again. "And, tell Herc this was my idea...this is what I wanted...make sure he understands that!" Then, he craned his neck back to face front, and flew to meet the rebels who waited for him. When Iolaus disappeared from sight, below the shoulder of the mountain, Hal blinked back his tears, and whispered to the Eternal Dragon, "Lend him your strength, Lord, and guard his life..." Then, Hal called to his dragons, leading them around the mountain, back toward Tarsus.
When Iolaus dropped onto the landing platform, he wasn't surprised to see Padraic waiting for him. The large green dragon simply snapped, "Follow me," and turned to head down the tunnels to his reception chamber. Iolaus struggled to find his breath, and, slow to respond, found himself being shoved roughly by the escort dragons which had landed behind him. Stumbling, he headed unsteadily down the tunnel behind Padraic, passingly grateful that the way led downhill...it was easier than climbing in his current state of exhaustion.
Once they had reached the chamber, Padraic turned, his anger rumbling in his throat as he studied the small somewhat battered looking gold with a mixture of rage and satisfaction. Roaring, he rose above the small dragon, and reached to smash a blow to the gold's head. Iolaus saw the attack coming...it was hard to miss...and managed to roll with the blow, saving him a broken neck. He slammed onto the ground, grunting at the protest from his ribs, left shoulder and hip as he hit hard. He looked up at the enraged dragon which towered over him, and grinned. "Glad you're so happy to see me!" he quipped, then felt the dizziness come over him, knowing he was turning back into himself. He kept his eyes on Padraic, fully expecting the shock and astonishment which met his gaze.
When Padraic seemed to be stuck in speechless mode, Iolaus pushed himself painfully to his feet, to stand before the pretender to the throne of Dragon Island. "Yeah...I guess this is a surprise, Padraic...hope you're not disappointed."
Padraic was about to respond, having finally assimilated the astonishing sight before him...and, if anything, feeling even more enraged by the sight of the puny mortal standing arrogantly in front of him, when the air tingled, and Hera made one of her unexpected appearances. She started talking at once, "Padraic, I want to know what went wrong yesterday..." but then, her voice caught with a start of surprise when she saw who else was in the chamber. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she thundered.
"Glad to see you, too, Hera...slumming are you?" Iolaus responded drily, thinking he had hoped to never see her again...it would have been one of the few perks of dying...
Padraic swung his head to look at her. "You know him?" he demanded, surprised.
"Unfortunately, yes. This is Zeus' bastard son's pet mortal, Iolaus," she spat. "How did he end up here?"
"Zeus' son?"
"Bastard son...Hercules...I repeat, what is he doing here?" Hera's voice was brittle with anger and authority...a tone Padraic had never heard before, but which was all too familiar to Iolaus.
Before Padraic could respond, Iolaus jumped in to answer. "Ah, Hera...you mean you didn't recognize me the other day...I'm hurt!"
"What are you babbling about?" she grated in illcontained fury.
"You know...little gold dragon...Padraic here thought I was just some kid...you were standing right there," Iolaus replied, his tone implying she must have been blind...as well as stupid.
"You insolent spawn..." she rasped, only to be cut off by Padraic in his turn.
"This mortal betrayed our plans to Fitch...that's why our attacks were anticipated...I plan to exact my revenge," Padraic snarled, turning back to stare at Iolaus...showing more life and grit than he had at any point until that moment.
Iolaus winced theatrically at the words. "Oh...I'm scared," he said in a flat voice, goading both of them...stalling for time, knowing Fitch's flight of dragons, that Hercules, were coming and couldn't be more than an hour away. But, it could be a long hour trying to distract them...or a short one, if Padraic flamed him immediately, as he seemed distinctly inclined to do.
"Shut up," Hera said brusquely to Padraic as she kept her attention on Iolaus, missing the shock, and anger, which filled Padraic's eyes as he turned back to look at her. Iolaus, however, had not missed the expression in the dragon's eyes.
"And you thought you were the one in charge, eh Padraic? Let me be the first to introduce you to the real Hera...Goddess of Deceit and Manipulation. And, let me also assure you, she is no friend of yours!" Iolaus was fighting to stay on his feet, fighting the weakness that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to hang on a little longer...had to give them time to attack.
Hera smiled evilly down from her great height...double the size and twice as ugly in Iolaus' view. "Where is he?"
"Who? Oh! You mean Hercules? Sorry, you just missed him," Iolaus said, giving her a cheeky grin, enjoying the consternation which claimed her face.
"HE WAS HERE?" she raged.
"Uh, yeah...Padraic captured him yesterday evening. 'Course, he didn't know the bronze dragon was Hercules...did you, Padraic?" Not waiting for a response, Iolaus continued to Hera, "It wasn't his fault...he just thought Herc was an extra extra extra large dragon." Iolaus snickered.
"ENOUGH!" Hera shouted in fury, lashing a bolt of energy at Iolaus, catching him in the chest and driving him against the wall of the cavern, where he crashed hard, then crumpled to the ground, stunned, but not completely unconscious.
"What do you think you're doing?" Padraic challenged, stepping between the enraged goddess and his prize. "He's mine...I will do with him as I please...go!"
Hera sneered at him. "You pathetic snake...who are you to order me...idiot...fool...you've released the one being who will defeat you."
"See Padraic," Iolaus panted, "...told you...she was ...no friend."
Hera gazed at the crumpled warrior with contempt. She could see his haggard state, the bruises and scrapes...the pallor and the way he held his ribs. There was a trace of blood on his lips. She smiled at that. "Well, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing you'll die, you worthless runt...and I know what your death will cost Hercules." Turning to Padraic, she ordered, "Kill him if you are so determined to do it yourself...but, I want to watch."
Padraic stared at her, his emotions tumbling in his mind, confusing him. He did plan to kill the despised mortal...but he'd be damned if he would do it for her pleasure, or at her command. "In my own time," he said quietly, with the steel thread of determination in his voice. "We have nothing more to say to one another, Hera...leave my presence."
"You are a fool," she said with bitterness. Suddenly, she laughed coldly. "Fine...take your time...but I warn you, don't delay too long...or Hercules will return and steal him away from you! You're on your own...Ares and I withdraw our favour...you've failed." With that last message of good cheer for her erstwhile ally, Hera vanished into the air.
Padraic stared at the spot where she had been for a long moment, reflecting he had indeed been a fool to trust her. Then, he turned to scowl at the mortal lying broken against the cavern wall.
Iolaus returned his gaze levelly, with no trace of fear, no trace of regret, for what was going to happen to him. "So, Padraic, are you going to kill me now?"
"Perhaps," murmured the pretender, struck by the calm acceptance of his fate that Padraic could see in the clear, albeit painfilled, eyes. He also noted the greyness and dark hollows for the first time. The mortal was paying a terrible price for having played dragon. It...intrigued him. Padraic could not imagine any mortal taking such risks...for what? Surely not simply to assist Fitch. He had finally recognized Iolaus, of course...it was the mortal who had saved more than a dozen dragons five years before, and who had been a frequent visitor to Tarsus since. Padraic, loathing mortals, had taken care never to speak with him before, rarely remaining in the King's fortress when the mortal and his demigod friend visited. He'd never, ever, accepted the legends which had grown up around this man. Now, he wondered if perhaps they had been true.
Moving to stand over Iolaus, ignoring the guard dragons around the edges of the room, he sought to satisfy his curiousity. "Tell me, Iolaus, why have you done this...risked your life to infiltrate my lair in the guise of a dragon?"
Iolaus looked up at the huge dragon looming over him, as he panted a little, trying to get his breath. "Why? Because Fitch asked for my help to try to stop the firestorm from happening...because Fitch, and Hal, Braxus and Abercrombie and so many others are my friends...because you are starting a war that no one can win...Do you know what Greek Fire can do? Do you think mortals fighting with dragons would would hesitate for a second before using the damned stuff on you and those who follow you? Do you think Hera could give a damn about how many of you are killed...or even if you are all destroyed?" Iolaus closed his eyes, fighting off the exhaustion which threatened to consume him. "Why?" he murmured softly, "because I had to..."
"You came back here, trading your life for the bronze dragon...Hercules...she said you're his 'pet mortal'... is that why you came back? Because you're his slave and had no real choice?" Padraic had never credited mortals with any degree of courage or selflessness... he'd never thought to meet one who might change his mind.
Iolaus smiled. "Herc...wouldn't appreciate...that description. He's my best friend...always has been. He's the best man I've ever known...the bravest...he lives to fight evil, to help...the vulnerable." Iolaus stopped, fighting for the breath to continue. "I'm glad to give my life to save his...the world needs...him..."
"I loathe mortals," Padraic grated.
"I know," Iolaus chuckled weakly in return. "But, you know...we're like dragons in some ways. Most of us are really pretty decent beings...some, though, are...ambitious...careless of the cost to others...blind to the harmful implications of...their actions. Some are...downright evil. Sorta like the difference between you and Hera...you've been blind...she's just evil..."
Iolaus struggled to sit up, to releave some of the pressure on his back and ribs. He was conscious of Padraic's scrutiny, and wondered what the green dragon was thinking. "So, are you going to kill me, or what? Maybe you'd like to surrender to me instead," he laughed weakly at his risky attempt at wit.
Padraic had dearly wanted to crush the mortal beneath his paw...he knew it would take little effort. But, something held him back. He stared at the mortal, amazed by the lack of fear...amazed even more that the mortal had not condemned him, his tone almost compassionate, unlike the contempt and disgust which edged his voice when he spoke of Hera, one of his own goddesses.
"You expect to die, then?" Padraic questioned, touched in spite of himself by the gallant courage of this frail, vulnerable mortal. Iolaus had been right. Padraic was not evil...blind, ambitious...but not evil.
Iolaus laughed weakly. "I tell you, Padraic, my friend, I'll be very surprised if I'm still alive tomorrow at this time...or even if I survive the next few minutes." Iolaus looked up at the dragon, saw the confusion in his eyes. His voice softened. "Padraic...you're not a bad guy...we might even have liked one another...in different circ*mstances. End this war...before you do more damage than you can ever forgive yourself for...trust me...the throne, even if you won it, would never be worth the nightmares...or the hate you'll inspire...not just in others...but in your own heart..."
Padraic wheeled away from Iolaus, no longer wishing to look into his eyes. Had he been a fool? Yes, perhaps he had been...most especially to have been led into this rebellion by an alien goddess...one he had learned held only contempt for him. He still didn't know why she had supported him...nor did he care. Perhaps it was time to end the madness...perhaps...
A harsh voice cut through his thoughts, challenging him. "You're not actually listening to this worm?" Morgoth, his second in command, had entered the cavern, having listened in the hallway until he was sick with disgust. Padraic was weak, had always been weak. Morgath had known that when he joined the pretender in his revolt...with the full intention of murdering Padraic as soon as he had achieved the crown, to succede him as King of Dragon Island.
When Hercules cleared the rise of the mountains in front of him, he was staggered to see the full array of Fitch's forces hovering in the sky not a mile away. What was going on? Had Fitch threatened a full scale attack if Padraic did not release him? Herc had been aware of other dragons tailing him, about two miles back, but he'd assumed they were rebels, sent to follow him, hunt him down.
Fitch flew forward to meet him, Abercrombie close behind his King. The old dragon had refused to await the outcome of this morning's actions, languishing in the fortress, worry his only company. No, he had determined to be here...and Fitch had not the heart to refuse him.
In moments, Hercules had reached the King and his escort, a little surprised not to see Hal there as well.
"Fitch!" he called, "how did you get me out of there?"
Fitch looked beyond Hercules, as if searching for something. "Your release had little enough to do with me," he replied, "but, I am pleased the strategy worked."
Hercules looked at Abercrombie, saw the grief and anxiety in his eyes, saw Abercrombie look away to avoid his gaze. Whatever was going on, Herc didn't really care...there was another priority in his mind. Eagerly, he informed them, "Fitch, Abercrombie...Iolaus is alive...I found his trail...I don't know how but...we have to find him..."
Fitch looked back at Hercules. "We know," he cut in, quietly, "Hal found him yesterday, when the force was returning to Tarsus."
There was something in Fitch's voice, in his eyes, that clenched at Herc's heart, made his blood freeze. "He's...he's alive, isn't he?" he asked, his voice uncertain...terrified of hearing his friend had died after all.
Fitch looked away again. "He was alive when I last saw him."
Hercules studied Fitch, and Abercrombie. Looking from one to the other, he demanded, "What aren't you telling me? What's happened to Iolaus? What's wrong?"
Fitch saw Hal and his comrades rise over the mountain behind Hercules, and knew he had to explain quickly now...it was time to fly against the rebel stronghold. "Iolaus...Iolaus has exchanged himself for you...he's back in Padraic's lair."
"WHAT!" cried Hercules, appalled. "Are you crazy? How could you let him do that? What reason could possibly have been good enough..." he raged, in fury. This couldn't be happening. Gods, Iolaus... Padraic would kill him.
"HERCULES!" commanded Fitch, cutting into the demigod's furious ranting, his voice strong, brooking no dispute. "We needed you back...Iolaus needed you back. He's dying, Hercules, and the only hope we have of saving him lies in you. There was no other way to be certain we could get you out alive. We're going, now, to bring him back. It's time I stopped Padraic...stopped this insanity... ended this firestorm."
Hercules stared at the King of the Dragons, stunned. "Dying?" he whispered, the only part of the message he had really heard.
"Yes!" called Fitch, moving past him. "It's time to fight for him, Hercules...it's time for us to fly!"
Hercules didn't understand what was going on...but he did understand that Iolaus needed him...was waiting for him...gods...he couldn't die! Not now, not after having survived the impossible...please...no...
"Wait!" Hercules shouted, flying to hover directly in front of the King. "If you storm in like this...they'll kill him before we can ever get to him."
Abercrombie snorted as he looked at the King. He'd said as much himself.
Fitch gazed patiently at Hercules, understanding his concern. "I'm sorry, Hercules...of course, that may well happen. But...if we are going to save him, we must get him back quickly...and there is no other way."
Hercules glanced to the side, and noticed Hal had flown in with others, coming up from behind him. There had to be a way. "Look...I can sneak in there...find Iolaus and try to get him out, or at least protect him until the rest of you have subdued the rebel force."
Fitch shook his head. "You're a little too big to sneak in anywhere, Hercules...they would spot you in the tunnels, or even in the air, before you landed."
"They'd spot the dragon, yes...but, I could enter as myself. There was a gap in the wall in the holding pen on the back of the mountain...too small for a dragon, but I could get through it. If Iolaus is there, fine...then, I've found him. If he's not there, it's likely Padraic would have him in his Hall...and I know how to find that chamber. I can handle Padraic...maybe, if necessary, I could kill him...and then all this would be over. Please...you have to let me try!"
Hal spoke up then. "I'll fly in with him, to cover him and to effect his transformation...might as well use what I've just learned about flying around their fortress without attracting their attention."
Fitch looked from one brother to another. He had to give them the opportunity to save the third. "Alright...I will give you one hour...but, Hercules, one hour from now we will attack the stronghold. Go!"
Hercules and Hal needed nothing else. They wheeled in the early dawn light, and Hal led the way low, around the shoulders of the mountains, just above the treetops. In minutes, he and Hercules could see the back of the mountain stronghold, at which point Hercules took the lead, heading toward the place on the mountain where he knew he could make a silent entrance. Arriving at the gap in the rock wall, Hercules clutched at the opening with his foreclaws. "Transform me," he whispered quietly to Hal, who was hovering beside him.
Hal reached forward and slid his claw over Hercules' chest, and immediately the bronze dragon shimmered into the form of the demigod. Herc took a deep breath to clear his head, then heaved himself up and into the slit in the mountain wall. Hal pulled off and away, to conceal himself under an overhang from which perch he could watch both the hole Hercules had climbed into, and the area in front of the stronghold, just above its landing ledge.
"Please, Eternal Dragon, guard them and grant them strength," he prayed silently.
Iolaus swivelled his head at the sound of the huge, black dragon's voice. Uh oh. For a moment there, he thought he might actually get out of this in one piece...a bit bent, folded and mutilated perhaps...but essentially intact. But, the little he'd seen of Morgoth in the days past had convinced him the black was utterly evil...a match for the goddess he despised so heartily. Morgoth was as likely to flame him as look at him.
Padraic had also swivelled his head, to contemplate Morgoth over his shoulder. "I don't care for the tone of your voice, Morgoth...you overstep yourself."
Morgoth sneered at the smaller dragon. "You're too weak to lead us, Padraic...you haven't the stomach for real war...or the brains to command. It's long past time I took your place at the head of our forces."
Padraic wheeled, furious. "Who do you think you are, you valley bred lowlife? You are nothing without me!"
Morgoth laughed, and the sound chilled Iolaus' soul. 'Padraic," the warrior cautioned softly, pushing himself to his feet to stand next to the green dragon, "be careful. He means to kill you."
"You see...even the mortal is brighter than you!" Morgoth sneered, then turned his gaze at Iolaus. "And, when I'm finished with him, I plan to kill you." Morgoth slammed a foreleg into Iolaus, sending him flying back against the wall, out of the way.
Hercules found the holding pen empty, and the area deserted. He slipped out of the cage area and made his way through the dim tunnels. It was early, most of the dragons would be breaking their fast. Holding himself close to the walls, he jogged silently down the twisting tunnels...and paused as he came by the chamber which housed the armoury. A shield might prove useful.
Ducking in, Hercules quickly found what he was looking for...dragonsized, the shield was as long as his body, and heavy...it would deflect flame if need be. Turning to leave, he spotted a number of long iron swords stacked against one wall. He grabbed one... 'Now, this could really be useful,' he thought, as he slipped back into the tunnel, heading to Padraic's hall.
He heard the voices as he came down the tunnel, and paused a moment, his back pressed to the wall, as he eased around the entrance to ascertain how many dragons were in the great chamber. Just before he saw the chamber's inhabitants, he heard Iolaus' voice, "Careful, Padraic, he means to kill you!" Hercules sighed with relief at the sound of his buddy's voice. Coming around the edge of the entryway, he heard Morgoth's words...and saw the beast lash out, sending Iolaus flying...
"NNNOOOOO!" Hercules screamed as he launched himself at the huge black dragon, uncaring of the presence of Padraic or the three other dragons in the chamber.
The dragons, stunned by this unexpected intrusion, were momentarily frozen in surprise, but then Morgoth wheeled to face the man coming at him, and lashed out with flame. Herc deflected the fire with his shield, pounding closer until he slammed into the large dragon, the force of his charge staggering Morgoth. The other dragons backed away, giving room to the battling dragon and demigod in the centre of the chamber.
Padraic was shocked by the turn of events...he would never have believed Morgoth would turn against him, and the black's actions, following so closely on Hera's betrayal, left him feeling sick...realizing clearly he'd been a fool...that others had been using him for their own ends. The guard dragons were uncertain who to support...Padraic was the dragon they were sworn to, but Morgoth terrified them...and they did not wish to have to face him down. None believed Padraic could defeat the larger, ruthless dragon.
Iolaus had slumped onto the floor, stunned by the blow, and from having crashed into the wall for the second time. But, he'd Herc's voice...and he shook his head, desperately fighting off his weakness. What was Hercules doing here? His vision clearing, he saw his friend battling the monstrous dragon, dodging flames and lashing claws...slashing the dragon with the large sword he wielded. Gods...Herc wasn't in his dragon form! Morgoth would kill him! Iolaus pressed back against the wall, to gain purchase for his feet, as he hauled himself up. 'Dammit!' Iolaus thought, 'I'm supposed to be saving his life!' But, then, despite himself, he grinned a little as he watched the battle rage before him...neither one of them, neither Iolaus nor Hercules, had ever known when it was time to let go...probably never would.
Hercules had gotten in several good slashes, but the dragon's scaly skin was as tough as a hide shield. He was doing too little damage. Still, he harried the black, spinning around the beast, maddening him, seeking an opportunity to slide his sword into the softer underbelly or throat...but, for that, he had to get past the claws and teeth. He'd thrown one look over at Iolaus and was relieved to see his buddy getting to his feet. "Stay back, Iolaus!" he yelled, knowing Iolaus was more likely to join the battle than he was to stand on the sidelines and wait.
Padraic glanced at Iolaus, noted the small man's grim attention on the battle being waged in front of him, saw the very evident anxiety for Hercules in his eyes. The green dragon marvelled...in the midst of everything, these two men would battle any odds for each other...and would fight evil in defence of the...what could he call himself? merely bad? misguided? He would not have believed them capable of such selflessness...he'd not thought mortals could understand the concept.
Hercules ducked behind the shield, evading another blast of flame, but it left him vulnerable to the sweeping slash of Morgoth's foreleg, which caught him hard, the claws deeply gouging his shoulder and chest, slamming him to the ground, stunned by the impact.
"Hercules!" Iolaus screamed, in horror. He reacted immediately, calling on energy reserves he didn't know he still had, to run into the contest, and grab up Herc's sword, holding it in both hands as he stood between the stunned demigod and the immense black dragon which loomed above him. Without hesitation, he lunged in, his sword burying itself in Morgoth's belly...but having the only impact of further enraging the brute. Roaring, Morgoth back handed Iolaus ruthlessly, once again sending the warrior flying, the sword still clutched in one hand, to crash hard against the rock wall...this time, Iolaus didn't get back up.
Padraic had had enough. He flamed the mighty black dragon, drawing Morgoth's attention to him. In moments, the two dragons were duelling in the confined chamber. Scrambling to his feet, Hercules had seen Morgoth assault Iolaus, and knew his partner was lying just behind Padraic, vulnerable to the flames richocheting around the chamber. By now, the guard dragons had chosen their sides...two with Morgoth, one with Padraic, and they were also flaming and lunging at one another, creating more chaos and smoke. The cavern was too small to contain their fury. The heat built to terrible proportions, the oxygen sucked from the air by their flames. Screams filled the cavern, as dragons sustained terrible injuries in this grim firestorm of rage and battle frenzy. Hercules found himself gasping, hardly able to get enough breath, feeling as if he was being roasted alive by the flames which filled the cavern. The whole world was red...the ground below him shook from the terrible dance of fury being played out by the five massive dragons in the cavern.
Hercules grabbed the shield and lunged to his feet. First, he had to protect Iolaus...and then he had to end this slaughter. Leaping through the flames between the warring dragons, he rolled on the other side, dragging the shield with him, and scrambled to where Iolaus lay. He anxiously felt for a pulse, and finding one, he eased Iolaus onto his back, against the wall, then lowered the shield over him, to protect him as much as possible from the battle raging around them.
Then, he took up the sword which had fallen from Iolaus' hand and turned to face the combattants. Morgoth was the key...he had to take him out...and then, if necessary, he would deal with Padraic and the others. There was no question in Hercules' mind that he could do this...no doubt whatsoever. He didn't have the option of failure...because if he failed, Iolaus would die.
Morgoth's attention was focused on Padraic, who was now battling the black dragon and a smaller, blue guard. Hercules took advantage of the big dragon's abstraction, and leapt up onto his back, gripping the dragon tightly around it's throat. Morgoth reared back, and reached with one of his taloned forelegs to grab Hercules and throw him off. Herc slashed at the foreleg, fending it off, and Padraic, noting Morgoth's attention was on the demigod, took the opportunity to unleash a blinding bolt of fire at the black...hitting him in the chest, stunning him badly.
Hercules felt Morgoth shudder, just as the large dragon crashed back down on his four legs, letting loose his own blast of fire at Padraic, who ducked and swung out of the way. Hercules brought the sword around, and buried it deeply in Morgoth's throat...slashing again, and again. Finally, the mighty black, roaring his disbelief at defeat, staggered and crashed to the ground, Hercules rolling from his back. One of the guards had already successfully defeated one of the traitors, and now he and Padraic were flaming the last combattant. The chamber was thick with smoke, the stench of burning flesh and the screams of mortally wounded dragons.
Hercules ran across the chamber and placed himself between the dragons and Iolaus. He stood, sword in hand, ready to see whether he would have to battle Padraic or not...he figured the odds were he'd have to fight again. There was no reason for Padraic to give up now...he didn't know Fitch and the mass of dragons would even now be on their way to destroy the rebel forces.
Finally, Padraic and the guard who had allied himself with his sworn leader killed the last opponent. For a moment, all was silent in the smoky cavern. Then, Padraic turned to face Hercules, noting the man was still prepared to fight to defend his fallen comrade, despite what looked like severe wounds to his shoulder and chest. He saw the defiance and courage in Hercules' eyes and bowed his head. It was over. He was no longer prepared to fight this gallant being...or to kill the man Hercules so jealously protected.
"Iolaus offered me the opportunity to surrender to him...I wish to do so now," Padraic said quietly. "Is he still alive?"
Hercules stared at the green dragon, blackened now from soot and wounds. Was this a trick to get him to lower his guard?
Padraic could see the doubt in the demigod's eyes. "I assure you, Hercules...the war is over. I've been a fool...please...we must help Iolaus... I doubt he has much time..."
Deciding to trust the sincerity he saw in Padraic's eyes, Hercules dropped the tip of his sword, waited a beat for the attack which might yet come, then whirled to kneel beside his friend. Raising the shield, he was sickened by Iolaus' gray pallor, the dark hollows under his eyes...his utter stillness. Anxiously, he again felt Iolaus' neck for a pulse...and found one. Thin, thready...
"He's still alive," he sighed, gathering Iolaus into his arms, and standing to face Padraic.
The green dragon nodded sharply. "Good! Horatio," he turned to the remaining guard, "tell the others the war is ended...that I have surrendered. Tell them to wait here until I come back for them...I must take these men back to Tarsus and make my peace with Fitch. Go!" The small brown dragon, stunned by all that had happened, fled the chamber to do his leader's will.
Padraic turned then to Hercules. "Come," he said, "you can ride me back to Tarsus...there may yet be hope, but we must hurry!"
He turned and rapidly led the way out of the chamber and up through the dim tunnels to the landing ledge. There, he crouched, "Hold onto my neck, and I will raise you and Iolaus up and over my back."
Hercules shifted Iolaus over one shoulder, and gripping his limp friend tightly with one hand, he held onto the dragon's neck as Padraic raised them up and back. Dropping from the dragon's neck, Hercules slipped down, astride the dragon, shifted Iolaus back across his legs, one strong arm supporting his friend's head and shoulders against his chest, while he gripped Padraic neck ridge with his other hand. "Go!" he shouted, desperate for them to be on their way.
They had barely cleared the ledge, rising into the night, when Hal dropped down beside them, amazed to see Hercules on Padraic's back...and, then he saw Iolaus cradled in Hercules' arm. "Hercules!" he cried in alarm.
Herc looked up at the cry, and Padraic paused, hovering in the air, as he addressed the other dragon. "Hal, I have surrendered. We need to get Iolaus back to Tarsus before it's too late...will you lead the way...let others who encounter us know that I cannot stop until we get there."
"I'm with you!" cried Hal, and he rose above Padraic, leading the way back across the mountain...and right into the massed array of dragons bearing down upon the rebel stronghold.
"Fitch!" cried Hal, "Stand down...it's over! We need to get Iolaus back to Tarsus!"
Fitch did not understand how it could be that Padraic was bearing Hercules and Iolaus, but now was not the time for questions. Turning, he ordered his dragon force to follow them back to Tarsus...then, Fitch fell in to fly beside Padraic, lending his presence as protection to allow the rebel prince to pass through the lines, and to escort him, and his precious burden, back to the King's fortress. Hal and Abercrombie took up positions directly to their rear.
Hercules could hear Iolaus fighting now to breathe, and the sound of the rasping, painful heaving to draw in air tore at Herc's heart. Suddenly, Iolaus started coughing violently, expelling the smoke from his lungs, gasping in gulps of clean air. His body shuddered with relief, and the coughing subsided, leaving him again resting limply against Herc's strong arm.
"Hang on, Iolaus," Hercules begged, terrified by his friend's debilitated state. Fitch had said Iolaus was dying...seeing him now, Herc knew Fitch had only spoken the truth. Gods...there must be something they could do to save his friend...his brother... "Iolaus," he whispered again, in terror and despair.
Iolaus felt the arms supporting him, heard the voice, struggled to fight off the darkness and lethargy which held him captive. "Herc?" he mumbled, only half conscious.
"I'm here, Iolaus...you're going to be alright..." Herc choked back, past the huge lump of fear in his throat.
"You think?" Iolaus muttered in response, wishing he could be more certain Herc was right. He had fought his way back to consciousness, and was finally able to open his eyes, to look up into Herc's worried gaze. He smiled weakly. Herc was okay...he guessed that meant their side had won.
"Don't you quit on me, Iolaus," Hercules commanded, quietly but with a twist of desperation in his voice. It was a miracle Iolaus was still alive after all he'd been through...and Herc wasn't about to let him go now. Not without a fight...gods, if only it was that simple. But, he didn't know who or what to fight...he could only hope. Hal had told them the dragons had the means to help one of their own...but, could they help a mortal? With a sinking heart, Hercules realized there was no way Iolaus could sustain yet another transformation into dragon form.
Iolaus grinned then, or tried to. "I'm not a quitter, Herc...you know...that..."
Hercules swallowed and blinked back his tears as he whispered, "Yeah...I know...I've always known ...hang on, Iolaus...we'll find a way to help you...we're taking you back to Tarsus now...hang on..."
"I'll...try..." Iolaus replied, his voice a barely audible whisper as he again slipped away into unconsciousness, his life force virtually gone, exhausted by the abuse his body had taken.
The dragons flew on, flying as fast as their wings would bear them, on a desperate mission now, to save a brother. They filled the sky, those dragons, darkening it, like an eclipse of the sun. The legends would tell how hundreds of dragons, led by their King, and the rebel challenger for the throne, the rebel prince bearing the two heroes who had defeated him, had raced through the skies over Dragon Island to Tarsus... raced to save the life of the dying mortal.
It took less than an hour, but by the time they had reached the fortress, Iolaus breath was so faint, Hercules was afraid he'd slipped away, his spirit riding the winds with them, as they soared high over mountains and valleys. "Live, Iolaus," Hercules urged, his voice tight with fear, "C'mon, buddy...live!"
Iolaus had begun to grow cold in his arms, but Hercules refused to give up hope...Iolaus couldn't die...they couldn't be too late...not now...not when they were so close to help. Slipping from Padraic's back, Hercules raced after Fitch, as the dragon led the way deep into the mountain, to their sacred Temple far below...Padraic, Hal and Abercrombie followed on his heels, and behind them, thundered the other dragons. Though they hadn't noticed him, Braxus was there, too...he'd been waiting for them to return, and he raced now, with the others, to the Temple.
It seemed to take hours, but Hercules knew it could not have been more than mere minutes. Finally, they thundered into the huge, glittering cavern, which was filled with mystical, multicoloured light from the massive, round, brilliant Dragon Stone which hung in the air over the alter in the centre of circular cavern, radiance flowing from the elegant spires which grew from the body of the crystal, like frozen shards of a rainbow.
"Place Iolaus on the altar, Hercules," Fitch commanded, as he took his place at the altar's head. "Then stand, your hands resting on his chest, over his heart."
It seemed a hundred dragons had thundered into the cavern in their wake, each taking a place around the wall, forming a circle around the altar. For a moment, all was quiet. Careless of the blood dripping down his own arm and chest, Hercules gazed with sick despair upon the deathly gray face of his best friend, and blinked back the tears which burned in his eyes. He didn't know why they were here, or what was going to happen...he only hoped with all his being, with the whole of his heart, and with the strength of his soul, that what was about to happen would save Iolaus' life.
Gradually, he became aware of a humming sound, surrounding him, filling the cavern, until it was a physical thing, beating upon his senses, almost overwhelming his consciousness. And still the humming grew, stronger, more insistent, more pervasive, vibrating through his body, becoming part of him. When he thought he could stand no more, and the cavern was darkening around him, he heard Fitch cry out, "Great Dragon, our Eternal Soul, hear us! Know these men, our brothers...touch their gallant souls. Reward their courage and sacrifice. We beg you, in the name of the Stone, restore the life force of this noble hero as, long ago, their selfless love for one another restored the Stone to us!"
The humming peaked then, and light flashed, from the crystal above, around and through the cavern, richocheting off the walls, touching each dragon, Padraic, Hal, Abercrombie, Braxus, and all the others in turn, drawing power, growing in brightness until it was blinding. It illuminated each dragon, and became a nimbus around Fitch, streaming from him back up to the crystal Dragon Stone, then pouring in a wide river of light and energy down into Hercules, and through his hands, into Iolaus' heart.
Hercules felt the flow of overwhelming power burning through him as he stood locked in position over the body of his friend. Iolaus arced up against his hands, but he continued to hold them steady over his brother's heart. Hercules felt as if he would be consumed by the forces flowing through him, that he must soon die himself from the exquisite pain of its passage. Desperate to not collapse, knowing if he did, Iolaus would die, he held his breath, and held on. It seemed to go on and on...and on...eternal and everlasting.
Suddenly, the humming stopped. The dragon voices rose in earsplitting chorus, "Brother to Brother to BROTHER to BROTHER TO BROTHER TO BROTHER TO BROTHER!" their voices surged, vibrating ever stronger, ever louder, again filling the chamber with sound. Suddenly, it was silent. The light of the Stone died away, returning to its gentle luminescence, bathing them...its touch a blessing. The dragons stood, still as statues, waiting.
Hercules staggered, almost fell, when the power released him. His eyes searched Iolaus' face, aching with grief when he saw so little change. The gray shadow of death was gone, but Iolaus was white, and seemed...so vulnerable...so lifeless. A sob rose in Hercules' throat, and tears again burned his eyes. 'Please,' he begged, in the silence of his heart, 'please, Iolaus...come back...'
Iolaus took a breath, then a deeper breath, and colour returned to his face. Hercules lips trembled, and he no longer fought off the tears which brimmed in his eyes. "Iolaus," he whispered, the name a prayer on his lips.
Iolaus stirred. He felt dizzy, and hot...but, the pain was gone. And, gradually, he became aware he felt...strong. He raised a hand, felt it clasped tightly in a larger one, felt the light touch of fingers on his brow, brushing back his hair. Hercules. Iolaus smiled...and opened his eyes, gazing up at Hercules with heartfelt love...
"You're back..." Hercules whispered, unaware of the tears which coursed down his cheeks...tears which glittered in the light of the Dragon Stone...tears which matched those falling from the eyes of the dragons who circled them.
"Yeah," Iolaus sighed, confused...not knowing where he was, or what had happened. "How...?"
Hercules looked up then at Fitch, and around at the dragons who surrounded them, resting for a moment on Padraic, before he responded. "Our brothers did it, Iolaus...our brothers brought you back."
Iolaus looked around then, seeing the others for the first time since he had awakened. He was amazed to see Padraic standing as one in the circle of many...and was overwhelmed by the love he saw in all of their eyes. His own eyes burned with tears that they would care so much. "Our brothers..." he whispered, in gratitude...and in awe.
Fitch didn't care that Iolaus felt strong, or that Hercules' own injuries had been healed by the Stone's power. He ordered the mortal back to his chamber, insisting that Iolaus rest for the remainder of the day, to ensure his full recovery, and would have ordered the demigod to do the same if he had thought it would do any good. Finally, Iolaus had acquiesced, allowing Hercules to drag him off, closely followed by Hal and Abercrombie. Once Hercules saw Iolaus settle on his cot, he left Abercrombie to watch over his friend, to make sure he stayed in bed. He only hoped Abercrombie was up to the challenge.
Hercules and Hal left the chamber and headed down the tunnel, back toward the council chamber, to talk with Fitch and Padraic about what still needed to be done to ensure the rebellion was over.
Hercules had not said much to Hal, and the dragon knew the demigod was still angry that they had let Iolaus further risk his life in a bid to save Hercules. "Brother! Wait!" Hal called, then drew the demigod into an alcove off the main tunnel. Hal looked down upon the demigod, noted the evasive eyes, the tension in the demigod's body. "Hercules, is there something you wish to say to me?"
Herc blew out a sigh of irritation, his eyes flashing back up to Hal's. "Yeah...there's something I want to say! How could you let him do that...go back into that rebel stronghold...when you knew he was dying... might well not survive! There had to have been another option!"
Hal studied Hercules for a moment. He knew Hercules was as angry with Iolaus, as he was with anyone. "'Let' him?" he echoed, a conscious parody of Iolaus' words when this had begun. The dragon shook his head gently, holding the gaze of the demigod. "Hercules, the last thing Iolaus said to me was to tell you that this was his decision, and to make sure you understood that. You may have the strength of ten men, maybe even a hundred ordinary men, while Iolaus is but a mortal, vulnerable, fragile...but, he is no ordinary man, and the strength of your hearts, yours and Iolaus', are equally matched. The two of you belong together, as you, and everyone who knows you, have known for all of your lives. Each is diminished without the other, neither wishes to live at the cost of the others life. The friendship, the love, you share is a great gift, perhaps of more worth than either of you truly recognize. It burns like a torch, lighting the way for those who follow you, an inspiration, an ideal to aspire toward. Together, you have created a legend which will go on, long after the two of you are dust, perhaps for all eternity."
Hal paused, but Hercules would not look at him, his shoulders still tight with anger. "Did you not go back alone into that rebel fortress to face all of them, if need be, to rescue Iolaus? Would you not sacrifice your life for him, if it was the last and only option, to save his life?"
Hercules stared at the floor. "Of course I would," he responded quietly.
"Then how can you be angry when he does no more than the same for you? I know you fear for him...and I know you value his life above all else in creation. But, Hercules, you dishonour him when you deny his right to choose his own way, his own actions. You diminish his courage and his honour when you consider only his vulnerability...and when you deny his right to sacrifice his life for yours, deny the ultimate gift he can give you, you deny his love."
Hal paused again, searching for the words. "Do not be angry with him, Hercules...for being what he is...do not regret his greatness, his heroism. Do not reject the gift of his love, or the last and best gift, his willingness to sacrifice himself to save your life...such rejection would wound him far more than death ever will. You are the only being in all of creation who truly has the capacity to destroy him, destroy his spirit. You are each cursed to live in fear for the other's life...and you are both blessed by the treasure of the others soul. Allow him his dignity, Hercules...respect him enough to let him live...or die...as he chooses, not as you would choose for him. Someday, you may well have to endure his loss...but to deny that pain, is to also deny the love, and life, you share."
Hercules stood in silence, his head bowed, eyes burning, as he listened to Hal's words. He wondered if dragons were born wise. He raised his head finally, nodding as he blinked his eyes, his jaw tight as he swallowed against the feelings which rose from his heart. He glanced at Hal, then away. Sighing, relaxing the tension of his muscles, he looked back. "Thank you...you're right...of course, you're right...It's just...hard."
Hal smiled down at him then. "I know...but, you know as well as I, there's little that's truly worthwhile which is easy, my brother. Come, the King awaits us." Hal turned to lead the way down the long tunnels within the mountain fortress.
Iolaus, had he heard the last statement, would have disagreed heartily. He knew it was easy to love, easy to rejoice in the gifts of life...sunlight on water, the wind in the trees, the smile on a baby's face, music which touched the heart, and laughter which touched the soul. Easy to reach for the bounty of creation, to draw it in...easy to be grateful for it...and easy to choose to die for it, to secure the treasures of life for those you love.
'Nah,' he would have said, 'you're both wrong...what's really hard...what really hurts...is to turn away from love...to not live fully...or to hoard existence at the price of the life you love more than your own, afraid to die...without regret, indeed, with joy...knowing the gift of your life matters, that it is the best, and last, gift of love you can give."
Hercules and Hal found Fitch and Padraic standing quietly in Fitch's Hall. Padraic stood with his head lowered, while Fitch gazed at him with infinite sadness. Suddenly, the brothers wondered if they should not have intruded...and turned silently to leave. Fitch looked up, and called to them to wait. Padraic looked up then as well, and turned to face Hercules and Hal.
"I have confessed my stupidity and criminal foolishness to Fitch, and I have offered him my unconditional surrender...it is for him to name my punishment." Padraic looked away.
"So you have, Padraic...but, you have not told me why you have acted as you did...and why you have abandoned your claim to my throne." Fitch sounded weary, burdened by his knowledge that he had to fix an appropriate punishment...and the penalty of death would not be untoward for the crimes Padraic had committed...for the lives which had been lost because of his rebellion. But, Fitch did not want to kill his cousin...enough lives had been lost. He needed to hear the reasons, to determine if mercy could be justified.
Padraic sighed as he swivelled his head to look back again at his cousin. "I have always been...unsatisfied. I felt, somehow, that I could, and should do more, be more...that I should rule this community. And...I hated mortals with a blind, ignorant passion. I could not bear your dealings with them...I felt you were betraying all dragons in allowing the mortals to come close to us."
Padraic paused for a moment, then turned to walk across the chamber to the windows cut in the wall. Looking out across Tarsus, he continued into the silence of the Hall. "I might never had done anything about my feelings...I am more likely to think, and worry, than to take action," he said wryly, sadly. "But, the Goddess of all the Grecian Gods, Hera, came to me. She told me she had watched what had been happening on Dragon Island...and that you were wrong to trust the mortals, that they would ultimately turn on us...destroy us all. She made me believe that I had a responsibility to stop what was happening...to save the dragons from your error. And, then, I regret to say, she held out a great temptation. She promised me domain over all mortals, over all of the world in reward for taking leadership of our community. And...I rejoiced...to think of mortals as my slaves..."
He turned back then, to face Fitch, and the others. "So...I declared my revolt against you and raised the rebellion. Morgoth came to me first...and I felt it was a sign from the Eternal Dragon, that such a...strong, forceful dragon, would bow to me...would accept my leadership...I was a fool."
The silence lengthened. Hercules spoke quietly, "Hera has tempted many over the centuries...and few for such noble reasons. She played on your desire to protect the dragons, Padraic...you are just one more victim of her treachery."
Padraic glanced at Hercules, with a look which said he did not deserve the understanding...or the intervention to mitigate his treachery. "I am responsible for the deaths of dragons, Hercules...the dragons I had thought to save...my actions are unforgivable."
Fitch rumbled at that. "So, you once again try to assume my rights! It is for me to decide what is, or is not, forgivable." His words were harsh, but his voice was thoughtful. "You have yet to tell us why you decided to abandon your revolt."
Padraic gazed around the large chamber. "Why? Hera revealed her hypocrisy...Morgoth revealed his treachery...I saw I had been a fool."
Hercules had been watching the former rebel closely. "That's not all, though, is it? You had no way of knowing Fitch and his forces were about to destroy your stronghold. You could have kept fighting at that point...there was no reason to surrender immediately." Thinking back to those moments in the Hall, Hercules continued, "And...you said you wanted to surrender to Iolaus...not to Fitch..."
Fitch's head came up at that, and he swung his glance from the demigod to his cousin. "To a mortal? You indicated your wish to surrender to a mortal? I don't understand." Fitch again remembered his surprise to see Padraic racing toward them, bearing Hercules with Iolaus in the demigod's arms. "Why did you choose to surrender to Iolaus...and why did you feel such an urgency to save his life...he had been a traitor in your ranks."
Padraic gazed thoughtfully at his cousin, then swung his gaze to Hercules. "I feel if I am going to explain this, I should do so in Iolaus' presence."
Fitch paused thoughtfully, then bobbed his head. "That seems appropriate...so be it. Tomorrow morning, we will meet here again, when Iolaus is rested, and you will explain the decision you made." Padraic bowed his head in agreement. Fitch turned then to Hercules. "And you, my friend, have had no rest for many days. You have fought bravely, helped secure our peace, and were gravely wounded. It is time, now, for you to rest as well. Hal, take him back to his chamber, and make sure he stays there."
Hercules smiled a bit, knowing when argument was futile, nodded once in acquiescence, then followed Hal from the Hall.
When Hercules and Hal returned to the chamber Hercules shared with Iolaus, they found Braxus had joined Abercrombie in keeping Iolaus company. The young dragon was trying to behave like the adult he was, but was not able to restrain his unbounded joy...both of his friends had survived their ordeal...both were just fine!
Braxus fell upon Hercules, slavering him with dragon kisses, making Iolaus giggle and Herc laugh, as he fended off the exuberant welcome. "Hey, Braxus!" he cried, wrapping his strong arms around the dragon's neck and hugging him, "You're looking a lot better!" And, it was true. Braxus' wing had healed so well, it was almost impossible to tell it had been so severely damaged only a week before.
"Better? I'm great!" crowed Braxus. "Told ya we heal fast...and, well...I was so worried...and now everything's fine!"
At that moment, Abercrombie drew in a sharp breath, and without thinking, both Hercules and Iolaus flung themselves away, into the far corner, ending up scrambled together, all arms and legs, as Abercrombie blew out a tremendous sneeze, shooting fire across the room, and incinerating the cot Iolaus had lately lain upon.
"Oh! My goodness! I'm so sorry!" the old dragon apologized, mortified.
Iolaus managed to squeak out, "Bless you!" before he convulsed in giggles. Hercules fell about laughing, rolling on the floor at the chagrined look on the old dragon's face...and at the cot, still smoking dismally. The dragons watched the antics of the men for a moment, but could not resist the laughter or the humour of the situation...so, soon, they too were laughing uproariously.
It felt good to laugh again...so good, they all found it hard to stop.
It was just after dawn. Hercules and Iolaus were taking turns rinsing their faces, arms and chests with the water provided by the dragons in a pitcher and basin. Drying his arms with a long strip of soft linen, Iolaus looked over at Hercules. "What do you mean...Padraic surrendered to me?"
Hercules shrugged as he reached for another strip of linen to dry his face and arms. "Just that...when the fighting was over, he turned to me and said you'd offered him the chance to surrender to you...and he wished to do so."
Iolaus shook his head, a whimsical look on his face, as he pulled on his vest. "But...I was kidding!"
Herc shrugged again as he finished drying off his chest and pulled on his shirt and vest. "Maybe so...but, he seemed serious enough...and he said he wouldn't explain it to us unless you were there, so I guess we should go to hear what he has to say. C'mon buddy...we don't want to keep the King waiting!" Hercules finished with a smile, as he lightly clapped Iolaus on the shoulder, then led the way out of the chamber.
When they arrived in the King's Hall, Fitch and Padraic were waiting for them...but Hal was nowhere to be seen. Without commenting on his absence, Fitch bid them good morning, smiling as he noted how well both looked, then turned to Padraic.
"Now, cousin...it's time to explain. Why would a dragon who is known to despise mortals choose to surrender to one...and then risk his life to fly into the teeth of his erstwhile enemies to save that mortal?"
Hercules and Iolaus both stood, hands on their hips, in a relaxed pose, curiously awaiting the answer to Fitch's question, their eyes on the large green dragon they had so recently been fighting against.
Padraic returned their gaze for a moment. "Not just any mortal," he began. "This mortal." He took a deep breath, and began to explain his decision. "I was furious with Iolaus, and was determined to kill him. He had deceived me...come to me as a traitor...and, in my eyes, he had no honour. I detested him, and the fact that a mere mortal had penetrated our security. But, first, he defended me to Hera...pointing out that even the goddess had not seen through his disguise. I realized that he had actually warned me about her, the very first time we met...even then, he tried to protect me from her treachery. Then...he seemed so ready to die...with no fear. He made me curious. I...had not credited mortals with courage. He explained he was no slave to Hercules, but was his friend, and was glad to sacrifice his life for a man who lived to protect others. I had not credited mortals with any capacity for selflessness."
Padraic sighed. "And, then...he forgave me my stupidity. He explained why he had to fight me...to help his dragon friends and brother...even to save me and my dragons from the horror of Greek Fire. I found myself facing a mortal who had readily risked his life to help save dragons."
Padraic stopped, his voice caught in his throat. He looked away a moment, regaining his composure. Fitch was studying his cousin thoughtfully, waiting for him to finish. Hercules glanced at Iolaus, and noted his friend was gazing at Padraic with compassion...but, then Iolaus' head dropped as he studied the floor, and Hercules knew his buddy was feeling embarrassed by what Padraic was saying, and the impact his words had had upon the rebel. When Padraic began to speak again, Hercules turned his gaze back to the green dragon.
"At that point, Morgoth intervened...and Iolaus moved to stand by my side, allying himself with me against the threat Morgoth was making to my life. I had never thought to see a mortal stand by my side, aligned as a friend, ready to defend me if need be. I was frankly shocked to the core of my being. I could not understand him. And, then, Hercules, you appeared, and you attacked Morgoth...and I knew it was to save your friend...regardless of the risks to yourself. When you fell, I saw Iolaus draw strength from his soul to go to your aid... unafraid, uncaring of the risks to himself...and I knew then, all he had said to me, all he had appeared to be, was true. Neither of you showed any fear...only an incredibly noble bearing, only courage...and love. And, I was humbled by all that you did."
Padraic turned his gaze to the demigod. "You, Hercules, are a demigod, and I am grateful for what you did in defeating Morgoth, and in giving me a chance to either fight or withdraw before attacking me, but, you were motivated by your desire to save your friend. Far from being your slave, I could see Iolaus commands your heart." Padraic turned then to the small, blond warrior. "But, Iolaus...you are only a mortal...and everything I had ever despised...I was prepared to kill you...and you were helpless before me...ready to die."
Padraic's eyes burned into Iolaus' holding his gaze. "I wanted to hate you, but you showed me everything I have ever admired, and striven in my life to be. It was your courage, compassion, love and willingness to sacrifice yourself, not just for Hercules, not just for your dragon friends and brothers, but for me as well, and my followers...that destroyed my hate...and showed me how terribly, blindly, wrong I had been. How could I fight knowing, as I did then, how wrong I had been about everything? Yes, I surrendered to you, to the light of your soul...and I knew I desperately wanted to keep that soul alive...more than I had ever wanted anything before. Iolaus...you, a despised mortal, had become the hero I'd never had...and I will endeavour for the rest of my life, to learn from your example, to be the kind of being you are."
Iolaus tore his eyes away, shaking his head, blinking hard...choked by the dragon's words, and the look of profound admiration he had read in the dragon's eyes. He brushed his hand across his eyes, and tried to swallow. He felt Hercules reach out to lay a hand on his shoulder. Sniffing, he finally looked back up at the huge green dragon, and shook his head once. "Padraic...thank you for your words...but...you cannot see in others, what you do not have in yourself. If you saw courage, or compassion...or selflessness...it's because you hold these qualities in your own heart. At best, perhaps, I was a mirror...who allowed you to see yourself clearly..."
Padraic, Fitch and Hercules all snorted in unison. "What?" Iolaus demanded, a look of mystification on his face...at which point, they all laughed. "What?" he demanded again, beginning to look offended.
Hercules shook his head, but before he could speak, Fitch intervened. "Iolaus...your humility does you credit...but, you are more a torch which lights the way, than simply a mirror, which reflects the light of others. It's alright, my friend, to accept what others see in you...and to accept that it is no more than the truth." Iolaus looked down, again shaking his head, his face blushing furiously.
Understanding his discomfort, Fitch chose to turn their attention to another subject. "Padraic, I have asked why you have done what you did, both in rebelling and surrendering. I thank you for your candour in helping me to understand. Yesterday, you stated what you had done could never be forgiven...and, some might think a just punishment would be death," Fitch paused.
Aware Iolaus and Hercules had both gasped, and had stiffened, as if to intervene, he quelled them with a look. "However, I would disagree. Forgiveness will take time...and we should never forget the lessons you have taught us by your actions. All dragons must be ever vigilant against temptation to war."
Fitch had turned his gaze back to Padraic. "You have learned much, my cousin, from your error...and, I know you will suffer regret for those who were injured and for those who died. I can not punish you more for that than you will punish yourself, until you too find a way to forgive your own actions. But...you have learned much of great value, and I am not prepared to waste that learning. I sentence you to teach other dragons the lessons you have learned...and I sentence you to the role of our ambassador to the mortals who live around us...you will henceforth be responsible for ensuring our good relations with them. Do you accept my will?"
Padraic lowered his head in the traditional gesture of submission. "I do, my King...and I thank you for your mercy."
Hercules and Iolaus exchanged a smile, then grinned up at Fitch, clearly relieved and glad of his judgment. Fitch turned back to them. "Now that our official business is concluded, I have news for you...you are uncles! Hal and Ludmilla await you in the aerie...they wish to introduce you to your new nephews!"
Both warriors whooped at the news, delightedly pounding each other on their backs, wishing one another congratulations. "Flowers!" cried Iolaus, "We need flowers...for Ludmilla!"
Fitch and Padraic both looked confused at this. "Well, it's only right to bring her flowers!" Iolaus explained. "Yes, I suppose you're right..." Fitch allowed. Padraic looked at them and then at the King, "With your leave, Sire, I'll take Iolaus and Hercules to the meadows below, where they may gather their flowers, before they go to see Ludmilla and Hal."
Fitch nodded agreement, "By all means," he said, and watched as the men capered from his Hall, followed into the tunnels beyond by his cousin...a former enemy brought close by the honour of those who ran through the hallways, eager to gather flowers. Fitch shook his head bemusedly. "Eternal Dragon, guard them always, that they may continue to lead those who are lost back to the light."
Hercules and Iolaus dashed into the aerie, Iolaus bearing a huge bouquet of flowers, as they eagerly made their way over to the proud and happy couple.
"Congratulations!" they both cried, then hushed themselves, in case the newborns were sleeping.
Laughing, Hal called them forward to meet their nephews. "It's alright...they are awake...and waiting to meet you!"
"Great!" smiled Hercules, as he moved forward to look into the nest. Iolaus held out the flowers for Ludmilla. "For the beautiful mother!" he said, grinning ear to ear.
Ludmilla beamed at him. "For me! How lovely...and so thoughtful! You've picked my favourites!" She bent down, and Iolaus held up the flowers, thinking she wished to smell them...only to have her bite them, pulling them from his hand...and then she swallowed them! Her tongue snaked out delicately over her lips, "Yummmm..." she purred.
Hercules chuckled and Iolaus cast him a slightly bemused look, shrugging his shoulders. She was a dragon after all...he'd forgotten dragons thought flowers a delicacy. Recovering, he moved to join Hercules at the side of the nest and they both peered down at their newest family members. They grinned in delight at the sight of the miniature amber dragons, with golden eyes, and gold tipped claws. "They're beautiful," Iolaus breathed.
"Yeah...they sure are," agreed Hercules softly, reaching down to stroke one small head gently. Hal cleared his throat, sounding a little nervous. With a look at Ludmilla, who nodded encouragingly, he said, "Well, I guess I should introduce you formally... Iolaus, Hercules...I'd like you to meet...Hercules and Iolaus! I hope you don't mind!" Hal gazed at them anxiously, hoping they'd accept having dragons named after them.
His two warrior brothers gaped at him. "You named them after us?" asked Hercules, softly, beginning to smile.
"Yes...we'd like to...if that's alright..." Ludmilla confirmed, looking from one to the other.
"Alright?" sniffed Iolaus, blinking a suspicious brightness from his eyes, "It's...wonderful! No one has ever named a son after me before! I'm honoured...thank you."
"As am I," confirmed Hercules, as he looped an arm around Iolaus' shoulders. "Thank you!"
Hal and Ludmilla beamed...in so far as dragons can be said to beam...their happiness radiating from their eyes. "Well," said Hal, "who else would we name them after? You're our brothers!"
They all laughed at that, and turned again to admire the newest little dragons on Dragon Island.
Hercules and Iolaus had planned to head back alone, but Fitch wouldn't hear of it. "We brought you here, and we'll take you back!" he declared.
And, so it was, that Hercules and Iolaus came to ride a Dragon King, who bore them himself to proclaim his respect for them both, back to Corinth. They were accompanied by Hal, Abercrombie and Braxus. The sight of dragons was unusual, and they drew considerable attention as they wheeled in over Corinth and circled the city, finally coming to a gentle landing in the courtyard of the palace...their great size filling the grand space, and causing no little anxiety amongst the mortals there until they spotted Hercules and Iolaus amongst the dragons.
Iphicles had come out of the Palace when he was informed dragons were circling overhead, and was waiting as they landed. Smiling, he strode forward to greet his brother, and the man who was like a brother, hugging them each in turn. "Well, that was some entrance!" he drawled, "I can't wait to hear this story!" Iolaus chuckled as Hercules drew Iphicles forward to introduce his brother to the dragons.
"Iph, I want you to meet Fitch, King of Dragon Island, and Hal, Braxus and Abercrombie, our...brothers." Iph co*cked an eyebrow at that, but only bowed formally and respectfully. "It's an honour to meet you," he intoned with his deep voice.
"Fitch, Hal, Abercrombie, and Braxus, this is my brother, Iphicles, the King of Corinth," Hercules explained. Fitch bowed his head, in his turn, indicating his respect for the mortal King. "It is our honour, King Iphicles, to meet the brother of Hercules and Iolaus." Then, the dragon king smiled, "If they do not tell you the story, come to me. I will be glad to tell the tale of the men all dragons consider heroes."
Iolaus blushed as he stroked Abercrombie's neck, and Herc cleared his throat. "Right...well...I guess it's time to bid you all farewell. Thank you," Hercules said, then, gazing at Iolaus, he repeated, "thank you...for everything."
The dragons understood, "You are both welcome on Dragon Island and we will be honoured by your visits. Until then, we will miss you, our brothers...and we will sing your legends at our fires." Fitch bowed his head to them once more, then rose into the air. Hal gave them a grin, murmuring to Hercules, "You must come often...so that your nephews grow to know you well...and love you as we do." Hercules and Iolaus both grinned and told him they'd visit so often the dragons would all be sick of seeing them. "That could never happen, my brothers," Hal assured them, as he took to the skies, behind his King.
Abercrombie lingered a minute more, reluctant to leave. "Hercules, we will always be grateful to both of you...the King was not jesting when he said you are heroes we will sing of for all eternity. And, Iolaus," he said, brushing his chin lightly on the small mortal's golden curls, "I will miss you, my son...do not wait long before you visit again."
"We won't," promised Iolaus, hugging the neck of the old dragon. "You stay well...you hear me!"
Abercrombie nodded his great head...then launched into the skies.
Braxus had been shuffling around. He knew he should be dignified...he was an adult after all! But, then, he surrendered to him impulses and bathed them both in dragon kisses. "I love you!" he whispered.
Hercules hugged the dragon tightly around the neck, murmuring back, "And we love you too...be safe, Braxus."
Iolaus hugged the young dragon in his turn, "What he said goes for both of us, Braxus," he said softly, "You're the one who first taught us dragons are good people!"
Braxus bobbed, "Ah...thanks Iolaus," he said, embarrassed but glad to know they loved him, too. Not knowing how to say farewell, knowing he had to leave, Braxus launched into the air, calling, "See ya!" as he caught the updraught to join the other dragons circling above...and then, with a tip of their wings to the mortals below, the dragons flew toward the sea...the sun burnishing their hides, casting a nimbus around them, as they disappeared from sight.
"Brothers? Son?" Iphicles mused, grinning at the other two men. "It seems we have an even more interesting and varied family than I had realized."
Herc placed a hand on Iolaus' shoulder, as they looked quickly at one another and laughed. "Brother," Hercules assured Iphicles, "you don't know the half of it! Come on, let's go home and we'll tell you the whole story."
Together, they turned, heading back into the palace.
It was late, and the fire was burning low in the grate. Iphicles had left them a few minutes before, still marvelling at the story they had told...they'd been dragons! They'd actually been turned into dragons! He shook his head as he headed down the darkened corridor to his chamber.
Iolaus and Hercules had lingered over a last chalice of wine, the silence between them not quite comfortable. Hercules looked across at Iolaus, taking in his abstraction and restlessness. "Iolaus? Is something bothering you?" he asked.
Iolaus frowned at him. He hated to look a gift horse in the mouth, and maybe he should just let it go...but he felt as if he was waiting for the other sandal to drop, and the wait was getting on his nerves.
"Yeah, Herc...I guess there is." Iolaus screwed up his face a little, his brows furrowed, his mouth pulled to one side as he leaned forward. "Herc...you haven't yelled at me yet."
Herc blinked in surprise. "Yelled at you? Why would I yell at you?"
Iolaus shifted again, waving a hand, "Well, it's just that you usually do when I...uh...when I do something you think is stupid..." His voice drifted off, as he gazed up at Hercules through his hair. He cringed a little, waiting for it, knowing it was inevitable. Herc's reactions to his propensity for risking his life were as predictable as was the sun's rise in the morning.
Hercules studied him, his features calm, and when he spoke, his voice was mild. "Stupid? No, I think you mean when you risk your life to save mine."
Iolaus settled back into his chair. "Yeah, whatever...you usually yell...and since it's only a matter of time, I thought we might as well get it over with, clear the air, you know, so we can just move on, forget it...I mean, it was no big deal..."
Hercules cut across the babble quietly. "It was a 'big deal', Iolaus...it's always a big deal when you put your life on the line for mine...it always will be. But...I'm not going to yell at you."
"You're not?" Iolaus queried in a mystified voice. Well, this was different. "Why not?"
Hercules smiled a little and looked away into the fire before answering. Then, he looked back into his friend's eyes, and leaned forward a little as he answered, his voice full of warmth, his eyes full of love. "Iolaus...I hope you know how grateful I am for all you give to me...and, I can never, ever, find the words to thank you for what you are always prepared to risk for me...maybe that's why I've had a tendency to yell at you, instead of thanking you, as I should have. Often. Always."
He looked away a moment, gathering his thoughts, "You inspire me...and you terrify me. I don't ever want to lose you...but, neither would I ever change you, not for the world. I'm sorry I've sometimes embarrassed you with my worry...obscuring your courage with my own fears of your vulnerability. I'm sorry that somethings I've failed to respect your right to make your own choices. You're a hero to more than the dragons, Iolaus...you're my hero, too. And...I would be lost without you. So," Hercules cleared his throat and took a deep breath, as he looked back into his partner's eyes, "I'm not going to yell at you, and I promise to try not to yell at you again for being yourself, for acting with honour, and courage, and love. Instead," his voice cracked, "I'll try to remember to thank you...and to be grateful for the gift of your friendship."
He looked away again, then, blinking furiously, lowering his head to gaze at the floor, his hair falling forward. But, he smiled a little, thinking of how Iolaus' eyes had widened more with every word he'd said.
Iolaus stared at his friend for a long time, the words filling his heart, warming his soul. He brushed a hand across his eyes, and sniffed. Then, with a slight smile, he said, "You know, Herc...it's easier when you just yell at me...it's not like I never knew why you were yelling...but, thanks...just...well...you don't ever have to thank me, Hercules."
Herc nodded a bit, his hair swinging, and he smiled as he looked up, "I know...just like you never have to thank me...we're best friends, partners...brothers...I just don't want you to ever think I take you for granted."
Iolaus chuckled, wanting to lighten the mood, touched deeply by Hercules' words, but embarrassed by them, too. "Yeah, well, I knew you only ever yelled because you care...so, sometimes, if you feel like yelling at me again, it's okay." Iolaus grinned at him cheekily.
Hercules laughed in response. "Yeah? Well, you're right...that's always been a whole lot easier! And, I wouldn't want you to ever think I didn't care. C'mon, it's time to turn in." Hercules set aside his chalice and stood, stretching. Iolaus rose beside him, and followed him down the hall to their chambers. When Hercules looked back to say goodnight, he once again saw a frown playing around his friend's face. "Now what?"
"Well," Iolaus hesitated...he hated this mushy stuff. "Well, you do know..." He paused, then took a breath, looking up into Hercules' eyes. "You do know I feel the same way about you...right?"
Hercules reached over and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Yeah...I've always known that..."
Iolaus nodded his head once, sharply, his voice oddly strained. "Well...good...glad that's clear. Good night, Hercules," he said, as he opened the door to his chamber and disappeared quickly inside.
"Good night, brother," Hercules responded, softly. 'Hal,' he thought, 'you were right about everything except for one thing...I'll never match the strength of Iolaus' heart...no one ever could..."
Finis
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