Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 03

by The Eye Of The Ram

  It was the chair.

  Hercules stood, caught it with both hands, turned, and used its momentum to fling it as hard as he could at Aeton.

  Aeton deftly backflipped out of the way, but the move gave Hercules the chance to grab the empty chest and slide it across the floor after him. Aeton landed, the chest caught him across the shins, and he toppled over it, rolled, came up grinning, and gawked when Hercules grabbed him around the waist.

  "I say," the man said.

  "Aeton," Clova cried.

  "My turn," Hercules told her, and tossed her her husband.

  The amazing thing was, for a split second she actually seemed torn between catching him, dodging him, or shielding herself with him while she used the dagger, the only weapon left in her hand.

  The hesitation cost her.

  Aeton sailed over her right shoulder and met the wall with his skull. When her eyes flicked over to see if he was all right, Hercules threw himself at her legs, tackled her, and pinned her arms to the floor.

  "I'll kill you," she spat.

  Aeton moaned.

  She wriggled, twisted, and said, "You can't kill a woman, Hercules. I know you too well."

  Surprised that she knew him at all, he admitted that it would take an immensely dire situation before he would even begin to consider killing a woman-Clocking her a good one on the jaw, on the other hand, was not beyond the realm of possibility, especially when the husband was beginning to stir, and the wife was trying to toss him the dagger.

  He clocked her.

  Her eyes closed.

  He clocked Aeton, just to be sure, and because the twerp deserved it, and rocked back onto his heels just as Flovi stepped into the room.

  "By the gods!" he exclaimed. mustache all a-quiver. "What's going on here?"

  Hercules wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow, and winced at the sharp pain in his upper arm. "You'd better tell Salmoneus he's going to need a new act tonight."

  "Hercules, you're bleeding."

  He was, but not badly. With Flovi's help, he bound the spike holes in his arm with a length of clean cloth; then, as he explained what had happened, he tore a cloak into strips which they used to bind the thieves.

  "Amazing," Flovi said, shaking his head in wonder. "We owe you a lot, Hercules. It's over now, right?"

  "Oh, no," he answered softly, glancing out the window. "No, Flovi, I'm afraid it's just beginning."

  15

  Dragar stood by his window, staring contemptuously down at the street, at the pedestrians scurrying by, at those still straightening up from the "shift" the night before.

  He was angry, and he was excited—or as excited as he ever permitted himself to get.

  Angry, because Aulma hadn't returned to the room since last night. Although she was completely extraneous to his plan, he had grown used to having her around. He had even considered blessing her with continued life so that she might remain with him when he introduced to these peasants the terrors and benefits of his new world.

  That the gods might intervene didn't worry him.

  He had long ago decided that they didn't much care what he did as long as he didn't bother them.

  Or threaten them.

  That was one mistake he definitely did not plan to make.

  Aulma was another. He had allowed her beauty to distract him, and that wouldn't do.

  She hadn't returned when she was supposed to, and so, quite simply, she would have to die.

  That was part of his excitement—for tonight he would take the first major step in the creation of his world, the establishment of his rule. He hadn't believed it would happen so soon, and he certainly hadn't counted on having so little opposition. But these fools had accepted his tricks and stunts as nothing more than magic; diversions and sleights-of-hand to brighten their drab little lives.

  The only thing standing in his way now, as far as he could reckon, was that strongman the idiot Salmoneus had brought into the troupe.

  He didn't know why the man was a potential hurdle; he only sensed it. Certainly the man wouldn't be able to stop the forces Dragar could release; he most certainly wouldn't be able to avoid a swift journey to meet Hades.

  Nevertheless, Dragar had learned the hard way to trust the growing power of that sense which, he had discovered, normal people didn't have. It told him the man was a possible threat, and that was all he needed to know.

  The spell he had woven during their first meeting would keep the threat at a safe distance; the next spell would take care of it permanently.

  He smiled to himself, reached out, and grabbed the staff.

  His left hand stroked the ram's silver head as one would caress the head of a lover.

  His fingers traced the curves of the golden horns, the planes of the jaw, the outline of the skull.

  When the fingers stopped, all sound and motion ceased to be.

  Then the ram's left eye opened.

  And the room filled with green fire.

  The arena was nearly empty.

  Salmoneus stood in the center, practicing a new introduction, while a handful of musicians sat against the wall and listened in attitudes varying from bored to sleeping. Virgil and Aulma stood well off to one side, looking desperately as if they wanted to hold hands but didn't dare.

  When Hercules and Flovi arrived, Flovi immediately joined his fellow band members, while Hercules, after a couple of false starts, told Salmoneus about Clova and Aeton, adding that the duo were already in the hands of the town's proper authorities.

  The first thing Salmoneus did was embrace him with rib-straining gratitude, praising him for finally lifting the jinx that had plagued his troupe; the second thing he did was vow at the top of his voice to make a pilgrimage to all the towns the troupe had visited, so he could personally return all the stolen items to their owners; the third thing was, before he could be stopped, to hug Hercules a second time for the idea of giving a show to help the people of Phyphe regain their good spirits.

  "Brilliant!" he cried as Hercules eased him back with a pained smile. "I should have thought of that myself."

  For a second, then, he seemed to have lost his voice. His face paled, his hands began to tremble, and Hercules searched the arena for signs of impending disaster. There was none; at least none that he could see.

  "Oh, no!" Salmoneus wailed. "What am 1 going to do about a new act at this late date?" He threw up his hands. "I'm ruined. I'm going to be poverty-stricken! I'm going to—"

  "Use Flovi," Hercules suggested without thinking.

  "What?"

  Hercules nodded toward the musician. "He's been wanting to sing for an audience, right? Well, now's his chance."

  Salmoneus moved closer and lowered his voice. “Hercules, this is no joke here."

  "I'm not joking."

  "You have to be joking, you've heard him sing, Or whatever that is."

  Hercules had to concede the point. Still, he couldn't resist the urge not only to help Flovi, but also to watch Salmoneus squirm. "Don't worry. Once he gets in front of an audience, he'll be fine. All he needs is a chance to prove himself."

  "Ruin me, you mean," Salmoneus grumbled.

  "Ruin who?" Flovi wanted to know, ambling over with a flute in his hand.

  "Ruin the surprise," Hercules answered quickly.

  "What surprise?"

  "That you're going to sing tonight."

  "What?" Flovi tried to smile. "Me? Here? Tonight? Sing? A song? Me?"

  "Maybe," Salmoneus said, "this is a little sudden."

  "Sudden? This? Me?"

  "Salmoneus," Hercules warned.

  "Sing?" Flovi said, staring at his flute.

  "I'm just trying to be sensitive to the needs of the artist," Salmoneus protested.

  "In that case, be sensitive to me," Hercules said, cocking a watch it eyebrow.

  "Tonight?" Flovi whispered. "Me? Sing?"

  "Oh, boy." Salmoneus rubbed his hands over his eyes. "We're ruined."

  "Ruined?" Flovi grinned. "Si
ng? Me?" The grin faded. "All by myself alone with no one else just me alone?"

  "Swell," Salmoneus muttered. "He's going to faint."

  Flovi wandered away, the flute forgotten in his hand.

  "Ruined," Salmoneus moaned. "Ruined." Hercules didn't think it would be that bad. If Flovi was able to keep the melody well in sight, maybe the audience would forgive a clunker now and then. Still, he made it clear with a look that the showman owed him a favor; Salmoneus, with a look of his own, made it clear that he would do it, but only under extreme duress and, probably, as long as he and the proceeds had a head start to the next country.

  "You worry too much," Hercules told him with a smile, and looked over the man's head when he saw Virgil and Aulma inching toward him.

  "Sir?" Virgil said nervously. "Sir, may we have a word?"

  Hercules had no idea what they wanted, and was about to join them when Salmoneus said, "Oh, gods .

  ..," and took a step back, lips quivering in a vain attempt to form new words.

  Slowly Hercules turned to the south tunnel.

  Oh, boy, he thought.

  Peyra entered the arena, her eyes puffed and red, her stride uncertain.

  Behind her was Agatra.

  Aulma squealed softly and instantly threw her arms around Virgil's waist; Virgil gulped loudly and threw his arms around Aulma's shoulders; the band muttered but didn't move; Flovi didn't know what to do or say and so did and said nothing. The Harpy was angry. Her powerful talons clicked loudly on the arena's cobblestone floor, her wings were half-spread to add size to her bulk, and her arms were folded tightly across her feathered chest. No one made a sound.

  When she reached Hercules, she glared and said, "What have you done?"

  "Nothing, yet," he admitted.

  "You felt it?" she demanded, her harsh voice echoing off the empty rows of seats.

  He nodded. So, involuntarily, did the others.

  "Then what are you waiting for?"

  "One thing at a time, Agatra," he said calmly. "I had something else to do first."

  The Harpy huffed, and snapped her fingers. Peyra moved to stand beside her. "Show him," Agatra commanded.

  Peyra wasn't quite successful in swallowing a sob, and Hercules didn't like the cold feeling that settled in his stomach.

  "What is it?" he asked her gently.

  She reached into her pouch and pulled out the yellow frog. "He's ..." A tear slithered down her cheek.

  Salmoneus snickered when he saw the amphibian, but whatever he was going to say was silenced by the look Hercules gave him.

  Peyra took a deep shuddering breath. "He's dying."

  The frog, unlike previous times, didn't automatically flip onto its back. It lay on her palm with closed eyes, and when Hercules leaned closer for a better look, he could see that it was barely breathing.

  "He won't eat," Peyra said, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand. "He can't eat people food, and 1 guess, because he's still partly human, he won't eat what he should because of the way he is." A tender finger stroked the frog's head; it didn't stir. "I think he's giving up."

  By this time curiosity had overcome the others' fear of the Harpy, and they gathered close, to stare at the frog as much as at Agatra.

  "Boy, that sucker is ugly," Salmoneus blurted. Then pointed quickly. "The frog, I mean."

  "He may be ugly to you," Peyra sobbed, "but he's my husband, and I love him!"

  "Your husband?" Flovi said.

  "It's a long story," Hercules answered.

  "It'd have to be." Salmoneus leaned closer. "Does he dance?"

  Hercules slapped his shoulder hard, knocking him sideways.

  "We danced at our wedding," Peyra wailed.

  Salmoneus looked at Flovi. "I'd pay to see that."

  Hercules raised his hand again, and Salmoneus ducked behind the musician, his expression bewildered. "What'd I say?"

  Then Agatra gestured sharply, and Peyra, tears drenching her cheeks, returned the frog to her pouch.

  "He'll be dead by tomorrow," the Harpy said. "If you won't do something before then, I will."

  Salmoneus finally saw the light—and the way the Harpy looked at him—and nudged Hercules' arm.

  "Are you saying this was . .. Dragar?"

  "Of course, Dragar, you chubby little chit," Aga-tra snapped. "Who else do you think did this?"

  Insulted, Salmoneus drew himself up. "Madam, or whatever, Dragar is a solid, upstanding member of my esteemed ... He certainly hasn't the ..." He looked up at Hercules. "By the gods," he whispered. "Last night. All the other times. But he's—"

  "I know, I know," Hercules said. "Just a magician." He shook his head. "No, he's not, Salmoneus. He's much more than that now."

  "Then why didn't you do something?" Salmoneus demanded, outraged and righteous. "This poor woman is distraught beyond words!"

  Oh, Hercules thought, you're good, boy, you're really good.

  "An enchantment," he replied, more to Agatra than his friend. "It must have been on that first day, when we met. Whatever he did, it scattered my thinking, delayed me. I..." He frowned at the sky. The overcast had thickened in places, the bulges of growing clouds ominously dark amid the gray. "I didn't realize it until last night."

  "Then why do you know it now?" Virgil asked innocently.

  Agatra laughed, but the laugh held no humor. "Because he is who he is, that's why. It didn't last."

  The young man and Aulma exchanged puzzled glances. "But who is he?'

  "Oh," Salmoneus said with an offhanded gesture, "he's just Hercules. It must be a demigod thing."

  Virgil gaped; Aulma gaped; they gaped at each other before gaping in tandem at him.

  "In that case, sir," Virgil said at last, "I really think you'd better hear what Aulma has to say."

  "Not if she's going to slug me," Hercules told him, and held up a hand to forestall any questions. By the faint blush on Aulma's cheeks, he didn't think this was the time to explain about swimming naked in the pool.

  Flovi grinned then and pointed. "Company," he said.

  Now what? Hercules wondered, and turned to see a large white duck waddle out of the north tunnel, the same duck that had fallen from Dragar's sleeve that first afternoon. It muttered to itself as it wandered across the floor, then froze when it spotted Agatra.

  Agatra scowled.

  The duck waddled over as fast as it could, looked up at the Harpy, uttered a long quacking sigh, rolled its eyes, and keeled over.

  They stared at the unconscious bird for several seconds, until Flovi said, "I think it's in love."

  Agatra transferred her glare from the duck to the musician, who shrugged, looked over his shoulder, pointed again, and said again, "Company."

  This time, however, there was no amusement in his voice.

  16

  Growling out of the north tunnel was the shaggy, black-and-white dog Hercules had seen rooting around the streets, the one who wouldn't accept the offered food. At first, he didn't see what had caused Flovi's reaction, not until the dog stepped fully out of the tunnel's shadow.

  It was half again as large as it had been, its fangs extending below its lower jaw. A pair of horns pointed forward from behind its pointed ears, and several spikes poked out of the thick fur along its spine.

  Its eyes flared green.

  As soon as the others realized it wasn't interested in them, they bolted for the nearest wall to scramble up, with help or alone, into the front row. Agatra grabbed Peyra and used her wings to lift them to safety. Flovi grabbed the duck.

  Hercules didn't move.

  He had seen monsters before, some hideous beyond description, but this ... this thing ... was worse, because it had once been normal, nothing more than a scavenger that lived in an alley's shadows.

  Magic had somehow given way to sorcery.

  Gaze steady, a rasping growl in its throat, the dog lowered its head slightly and moved toward him, one slow step at a time, not once shifting its eyes from Hercules' throat. />
  Its tail didn't twitch.

  When it was ten feet away, it stopped, and he could see the slanted eyes more clearly, the deadly glint of its fangs, and the bubbles of dark froth that began to drip from its mouth.

  "A sword, a bow," he heard Salmoneus say. "Doesn't anyone carry a weapon around here?"

  There was no answer.

  The spellbound animal shifted its haunches, growling louder. Deeper.

  Hercules braced himself, even as he felt twinges of stiffness in his left shoulder. A fitful breeze slipped out of the tunnel; the clear noxious scent of burning sulfur wrinkled his nose, and his eyes threatened to water.

  The dog lifted its muzzle and sniffed the air, the froth now dripping heavily, in strands.

  Hercules glanced at his arm. The wounds he'd received from Aeton and Clova had reopened. And the thing smelled his blood.

  That split second was all the animal needed—it gathered its haunches and, as Salmoneus cried a warning, it leapt for Hercules' throat.

  Instinctively Hercules threw up his right arm to block the charge. The dog's jaws clamped harmlessly around the arm guard, but its weight bore them both to the ground. Hercules landed on his back, grunting when his head struck the cobbles. As the animal's rear paws tried to claw a hole through his stomach, he snapped his arm out, slamming the dog sideways to the ground.

  Still, it wouldn't let go. Its paws scrabbled frantically against the cobblestones, trying to find purchase so it could stand and charge again.

  As it struggled, Hercules got to his knees, and before the creature could shift its grip from the guard to his flesh, he whirled and snapped the arm out again.

  The jaws released their hold, and the dog flew howling across the arena and into the wall.

  Where it exploded into blinding sparks that spiraled into the cloudy sky.

  Salmoneus stood in front of him, hands shaking, his face mottled with indignation. "That. .. that thing! Do you realize it wasn't real?" As if the creature were a personal affront.

  Hercules took several deep breaths to clear his nostrils of the stench of sulfur. "So I noticed."

  "It could have killed us!"

  "In the first place, it was after me, not you," Hercules reminded him as he rose unsteadily to his feet. "In the second place, I don't think it was a serious attack."