The road wound through the low coastal hills. The ground had become more sandy, more rocky, and the brush along the roadside less lush, more prickly. There were few trees to speak of, and an increasing number of gulls filled the air overhead. Themon was not far away, though they didn't, of course, know this. It lay at the southern edge of a plain that began on the other side of a gap that the road vanished into not five miles away.
"I've been thinking," Iolaus said.
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yep."
"How do you know?"
"Because, Iolaus, you've been thinking all day. Aloud. Constantly. I'd have to be deaf not to know you've been thinking."
"Well, if you're so smart, what exactly have I been thinking about?"
Hercules was tired. The sun was warm this close to the sea, the breeze virtually nonexistent, and the lunch they had had at the last village would have been better if it had been served in the underworld as a punishment for dead gluttons. He hadn't said this, of course, since that would probably have caused some kind of revolution, and he would have been the one to get the blame.
His mood, to be charitable, was a little on the sour side.
"Well?"
He sighed. "All right. First, you thought it would be a good thing if I let you do all the judging. In secret, of course. You figured it would be unfair for someone like me to be part of a contest that involved ceremonies for the gods. A conflict of interest, I believe you called it, right?"
"Right," Iolaus said grudgingly.
"Then you thought that wouldn't work, because then I wouldn't meet any of the ladies in the contest.
Which, you claimed, would be bad for me, because I've been alone for too long, and I know that was my mother talking, not you, so we're not even going to discuss it."
"Right," Iolaus said grumpily.
"Then you said—"
"Boy, you really have been listening, haven't you?"
"Hush. I'm doing your thinking, remember?"
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
"Then you wondered about those bandits yesterday. That red design on their masks must mean something, you said, and you've been trying to figure out exactly what that was."
"Well, you never know, Hercules. They might be members of some mysterious army we'd be duty bound to get rid of before they caused too much trouble."
"Them? Trouble?"
Iolaus laughed. "All right. In theory."
Hercules nodded and continued: "Then you decided, if they were really part of some army, we wouldn't have to worry about them because they weren't all that good in the first place. Which, you also decided, meant that the fight we had yesterday must mean something else besides a simple waylaying of travelers."
"Well, that makes sense, doesn't it?"
"I don't know."
"I think it does."
"I know. I heard you. I also heard you wonder why there weren't more people on the road. We're heading in the right direction, and the festival is only a few days away, so we ought to be seeing more people."
"That's right."
"So you wonder if we're late. Or if those bandits have anything to do with it."
"So? That makes sense, too, doesn't it?"
"I guess so. I'm still working out the judging thing."
"Then you'd better hurry up."
"Why?"
"Because they're going to try again."
"What, the judging?"
Iolaus pointed. "No, the fighting." Some fifty yards back, the bandits had been hiding in a shallow ditch, camouflaged by branches. As Iolaus pointed they threw their cover aside and boiled onto the road, sprinting toward the two men. Most of them sprinted, anyway. Others limped a little, and one moved at a really fast walk.
Iolaus scowled. "I don't think they're going to split up."
Hercules agreed. Unfortunately it appeared as if the bandits had learned a lesson from their encounter the day before. When Iolaus made to charge, Hercules held out an arm to stop him. "Wait," he said.
At forty yards the bandits, waving their swords and staffs and a couple of clubs, began to yell.
"Not yet," Hercules whispered when he felt Iolaus tense.
At thirty yards the runners had outpaced the limpers and the walker.
Iolaus began to bounce on his toes, slapping his sword from one hand to the other.
"Easy," Hercules cautioned.
At twenty yards the runners slowed down a little to allow the limpers to catch up.
There was doubt in their eyes; Hercules could see it, and when their yelling faltered he could almost hear them wondering why those two fools weren't running away or looking for a boulder or fallen tree for protection.
They were confused.
"Hercules?" Iolaus said, doubt in his voice as well.
The bandits didn't stop.
And Hercules said, "Now!"
He had given himself and Iolaus just enough room to manage a headlong run, but not enough for the bandits to get out of the way.
Hercules snapped his arms out, catching the first two men across the chest and lifting them off their feet. By the time they landed, his head was down and he slammed into the next two with his shoulders, knocking them to the ground as well. Then he whirled and saw Iolaus struggling beneath three of them while two others lay on the road, groaning.
It was almost too easy.
He hurried over and grabbed one bandit by the belt and nape, heaved him off the pile, then grabbed the next by the long tail of his mask. This one he yanked backward, allowing Iolaus to roll to his feet and plant a swift side kick into his opponent's stomach.
"Thanks," Iolaus said, panting.
Hercules gave him an anytime wave and turned to face one of the bandits he had already dealt with. The man swayed alarmingly as he tried to decide whether to charge or just throw the sword he carried and hope for the best.
"Don't," Hercules warned.
To his left he heard the sharp ring of blade against blade, glanced over just as Iolaus locked swords with a taller bandit, hooked a foot around the man's ankle, and brought him heavily to the ground. A quick thump with his free hand on the bandit's forehead made sure the man wouldn't move for a while.
Hercules' swordsman still hadn't decided what to do.
"You could leave, you know," Hercules suggested with a suit yourself tilt of his head.
The man blinked slowly, looked around at his fallen, moaning companions, and evidently came to the conclusion that he couldn't possibly ache much more than he already did.
He charged—or tried to.
Hercules sighed at his recklessness, and sidestepped when the bandit reached him, slapping his back hard and sending him sprawling off the road.
"Hey!" Iolaus shouted. "Hey!"
Hercules spun, fists at the ready, and saw a trio of bandits racing back down the road. They grabbed two kneeling companions and hauled them along. When he turned back, the others were already stumbling away in the other direction, Iolaus on their heels, yelling, until, at last, he slowed to a halt and let them go.
He sheathed his weapon as Hercules joined him. "I don't get it. I just don't get it."
Hercules took his arm, and they moved to the roadside, where they sat on a grassy rise to catch their breath. "Persistent, though."
"It's dumb, Herc." Iolaus shaded his eyes and peered up the road. "That's twice they've lost."
"And you're not happy?"
"Well... no," he admitted reluctantly. "I mean, it's like ... I mean, they're ..." He looked up at his friend.
"I know this is going to sound silly, but they're no fun. They just don't know how to fight."
"If they did," Hercules pointed out, "we'd probably be dead."
"No, no, I don't think so. Cut a lot, maybe, and bruised a whole lot for sure, but I don't think we'd be dead."
Hercules laughed without a sound. Iolaus wasn't a bloodthirsty man, but he did enjoy a good fight. This band of men, on the other hand, hadn't even made the
m breathe very hard. It was like swatting a bunch of rambunctious kids.
Iolaus wiped his brow with one arm. "Do you think they'll be back?"
"I don't know." Hercules pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I sure hope not. One of them could get hurt."
"I know," Iolaus said sourly. "Imagine—if I really hurt one of those fools, I'm probably going to feel guilty." He chuckled at the irony, slapped his knees, and stood. Then he grabbed Hercules' arm and hauled him to his feet and back onto the road. ' 'Well, we'd better get a move on. The ladies await, and I don't want to show up with any more bruises than I have to."
"That would be awful."
"Are you kidding? Of course it would. How can I convince them of my sincerity if I look like the sur-vivor of a stampede?''
"You couldn't."
"Absolutely right."
"But how will they know the difference?" Iolaus looked at him, too shocked to speak until Hercules grinned. "A joke, Iolaus, it was a joke."
"Right." Iolaus nodded sharply. "I knew that."
A half mile later he said, "I look that bad, huh?"
Hercules couldn't stop the laughter, which doubled when he saw the indignant look on his friend's face.
He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, shook him a little, and suggested they make their last camp just this side of the gap. A good night's rest, an early start, and they would be in Themon by midday.
"That depends," Iolaus said.
"On what?"
"On whether you keep me up all night with your nightmares. Again."
Hercules said nothing, only gave him a somber look.
"It's Hera, isn't it?" Iolaus gestured wearily to forestall an answer. "You said her name last night."
"You weren't sleeping?"
"No. Not after a while."
For several minutes Hercules kept his own counsel, debating before finally describing his dream, and the feelings he'd had long before Iolaus had arrived at Alcmena's home.
"I knew it," Iolaus said miserably. "I knew it."
"Knew what?"
Iolaus slapped his chest, where he kept the scroll he'd been sent. "I knew this was too good to be true."
"Oh, it probably is. True, I mean."
"Then what does Hera have to do with it?'
Hercules shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe I'm just too suspicious."
But he knew Iolaus didn't believe that any more than he did. The dream had been a warning. It didn't matter if it had been sent, or if it was only his own natural defenses on alert.
It was a warning.
Later, after they were bedded down for the night, Iolaus suddenly sat up and exclaimed, "Gods, Herc, you don't think she'll be one of the contestants, do you?"
"What?"
"You know, a disguise or something? A trap?"
Hercules almost considered the possibility, but then laughed it away and reminded Iolaus that exhibiting herself in that way simply wasn't the goddess' style.
Iolaus' relief was almost comical as he lay back, flopping his arms at his sides. "You're right. Thank the stars, you're right."
I sure hope so, Hercules thought, just before the sky exploded.
When Hercules next opened his eyes, his first thought had to do with the change in the night sky. The stars looked strange, almost as if they had been replaced by fire. And they kept spinning around.
His second thought had to do with the crushing ache in his skull.
Without thinking, he sat up quickly, and realized his mistake just before the pain blossomed and he passed out.
When he opened his eyes a second time, he didn't move. His vision was blurry, and his head felt as if an ox had taken to walking around inside his cranium.
Ambushed, he thought, chagrined; damn, we were ambushed.
Quietly: "Iolaus?"
A muffled groan was his answer.
Carefully he turned his head to the right and saw Iolaus lying a few feet away. Wherever they were, there was enough light for him to see the caked blood in his friend's hair.
When he tried to move, however, a reedy voice said, "Don't. He's all right. It's not as bad as it looks."
"Speak for yourself," Iolaus muttered.
Relieved, and increasingly angry about letting himself be caught, Hercules levered himself up on his elbows, waited for the world to stop spinning, and took a slow deep breath before sitting up all the way.
As his vision cleared, and finally adjusted to the available light, he saw that he was in a large cave.
Well over a dozen torches burned on the dark walls, their smoke curling lazily toward a hole in the ceiling.
The center of the floor was cleared, but large rocks and boulders were strewn around the edges, and on them sat the bandits. They wore no armor or masks now, and none, as far as he could tell, held weapons.
Not that they needed them. The way he felt and Iolaus sounded, a child could keep them in line with nothing more than a sapling switch.
He sat against a board propped against a low boulder; Iolaus lay nearby on a thick pile of straw and cloth.
Curiously, neither of them was bound.
"Thirsty?"
He looked to his left, to a tall angular figure sitting behind a crude table; on the table was a large dagger.
Hercules nodded gingerly.
One of the bandits slid off his perch and dipped a ladle into a barrel, filled it, and brought it over. Hercules reached for it, but the bandit waggled a finger— drink, but don't touch. He complied, and the pounding in his head soon subsided to a dull throbbing.
The bandit nodded and backed away, dipping the ladle again before bringing it to Iolaus.
"We're dead, right?" Iolaus said weakly.
"No," the tall one answered with a hint of a smile.
"I feel like it."
"You'll feel better."
"I hope so, or I'd rather be dead."
During this exchange Hercules studied the cave further without trying to be obvious about it. The entrance was far to his right, a glare of sunlight smearing the edges. There were other tables, large jars, and bundles he assumed were filled with food scattered around the boulders. Ledges protruded from the walls, some holding lanterns, a few holding bandits. The bandits themselves, he realized with a start, were young. All of them. And despite his impressions over the past two days, they did not look particularly ill fed or ragged. Bruised and battered a bit, but not deprived. Against the wall directly opposite him he spotted a neat arrangement of weapons—swords, clubs, and staffs—which did not look anything like the miserable weapons the band had used against him.
This, he thought, is very strange.
A sound above him made him look up over his shoulder. A man sat on a ledge halfway to the ceiling. In his hand he held a bow; in the bow was a nocked arrow.
He waved.
Hercules waved back.
At that moment Iolaus struggled to sit up, moaned, and said, "Who are you guys?"
The man at the table said, "We are the TLA."
Iolaus and Hercules exchanged puzzled looks as the bandits stirred.
"The what?" Hercules asked.
"The TLA" was the answer. "The Themonian Liberation Army."
Iolaus snorted. "You're .. . rebels?"
A strong murmur of proud assent filled the cave. A few rebels slapped their thighs, a few others held up fists.
"Rebels." Iolaus sighed. "Just my luck."
Hercules pushed both hands back through his hair, pausing only when his fingers touched a lump on his skull. When he checked his hands, he saw no blood. For some reason, this didn't give him much comfort.
He pulled up his legs, and froze when he heard the distinct sound of a bolt being placed and locked in a crossbow. He smiled in hopes they'd realize he wasn't about to try anything against such odds, and sat straighter.
Although he attempted several times to engage the man at the table, or anyone else, in conversation, none seemed inclined to talk. Except to each other.
Another.
When he couldn't take the silence any longer, or Iolaus' snoring after boredom had put him to sleep, he shifted as if to stand. Instantly every rebel turned his attention to him.
Thank you, he thought sourly.
"So," he said to the man at the table, "what are you rebelling against?
“The inhuman conditions and vast cruelties Councillor Titus Perical forces all good Themonians to endure" was the unhesitating response.
"Right, that's right," several rebels said.
"You tell 'em, Rotus!" a squeaky voice urged. "You're doing great! Keep it up!"
Rotus nodded. "Titus has been in power for too long."
"Yeah!" cheered the squeaky voice. "You got it, man, you got it!"
Rotus stood, arms folded across his chest. "He has caused many people many ... hurts, and . . . and he refuses to allow the people to ... do things!"
A roar of approval filled the cave.
"You're the best, Rotus, the best!" yelled the squeaky voice.
Hercules looked at Iolaus, who, having woken up, shrugged.
When the cheering died down, Hercules cleared his throat. "So what does that have to do with us?"
"Symbols," Rotus answered immediately.
"Good answer," Squeaky Voice said.
"Symbols of what?"
Rotus glared at him. ' 'Symbols of the high-handed way Titus runs the city without the permission and proper designation of the people he's supposed to serve!"
As the cheering swelled again, Hercules, with one eye on the rebels to be sure he wouldn't be skewered, scooted closer to Iolaus. "Are you all right?" he said, wincing at the dried blood.
"I've had worse headaches." Iolaus made a pained face to prove his point. "But these guys are nuts."
"I heard that!" yelled Squeaky Voice. "He insulted you, Rotus. He impugned your honor!"
"Who is that guy?" Iolaus inquired, frowning.
"I don't know," Hercules said. "A Rotus rooter, I guess. But I sure wish he'd shut up."
"I heard that, too!" Squeaky Voice squeaked. "I heard that!"
The cave quieted.
Rotus picked up the dagger and tapped its point on the table. "You're supposed to take part in the summer festival. If you do, nothing will change, and Titus will go on as always. So ..." He spread his arms and grinned. "You stay here until it's over."
Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02 Page 5