Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02

by Serpent's Shadow

  All right, he thought as he stopped halfway down; now Holix, where are—

  He was distracted by a commotion at the plaza's south end, and did his best not to betray his great relief when a huge white horse forced its way through the gathering there and galloped across the ground. On its back rode a man swathed in black from head to boot, one hand on the animal's reins, the other waving wildly over his head.

  The crowd was stunned into astonished silence.

  He charged the shrine just as Iolaus moved to help Cire climb onto it.

  Iolaus backed away fearfully.

  The rider swung around the shrine and with his free arm scooped Cire onto his mount in front of him.

  Wonderful, Hercules thought even as he raced down the steps; just keep going, boy, just keep going.

  And, he added when he saw the guards sweeping belatedly down the steps behind him, hurry it up, you idiot.

  Holix did.

  He completed his taunting circuit of the shrine, shouted something incomprehensible, and charged for the boulevard, Cire clinging desperately to the horse's mane.

  "Beautiful," Hercules said as he came up beside Iolaus. "Beautiful."

  Iolaus, doing a great job of looking as if he'd just been highly and expertly insulted, agreed. "As long as he makes it."

  "He will."

  They raced around the shrine as if attempting to catch the outlaw rider, and stopped when the horse did.

  Holix shouted something again.

  The horse reared and kicked out its forelegs. It was an impressive sight. Until Holix fell off..

  No one in the plaza moved.

  Except the pursuing guards, who swarmed across the tiles, armor clanking and leather creaking and red plumes bobbing, and surrounded Holix before he could get to his feet. Two grabbed the horse, and one gently eased Cire off the animal's back. By this time the audience had regained its senses and had begun to surge out of the stands and from their places behind the roping. Their intent was clear—take the rider from the guards and make sure he was never able to ride again by the simple expediency of removing his limbs, one joint at a time.

  Suddenly Iolaus found himself having to maneuver the guards, and those reinforcements who quickly joined them, into a large circle to hold the maddened Themonians back. Hercules, meanwhile, hurried over to Holix and stood over him.

  Holix smiled sheepishly. "I think I broke another rib."

  Hercules knelt beside him and kept his voice low. "You were supposed to tie yourself on."

  "But they'd see it," the young man protested in a whisper.

  "You fell off."

  Holix grimaced in pain. "Yeah. I noticed."

  There was nothing else Hercules could do. The temptation to grab Cire and ride off himself died as soon as Titus arrived, huffing, red-faced, and using an elaborate pantomime both to tell the cheering-turned-snarling crowd that all was under control, and also to let Hercules know that if this was the plan, he hadn't a clue about what was going on.

  Neither did Hercules.

  By the time he was able to gather his wits about him and smack them a few times for coming up with this stupid plan in the first place, Titus had convinced most of the populace that this was, after all, only part of the show. Something new. Something exciting. When he was finished, the snarling had turned back to cheering, Cire had been put back on the thoroughly confused horse, and the judges were commanded to escort the summer queen to her holy site of contemplation.

  Along with a squad of guards.

  Before they left, however, the councillor took Hercules aside and said, "Explain."

  That was the easy part.

  If no one was at the site, Hercules said, the Klothon would come and then leave, doing no harm to anyone. All Hercules had to worry about then was Hera. And he had a plan for that.

  Titus raised an all-too-expressive eyebrow. ' Another plan?'

  Hercules spread his arms. "What can I say? The guy fell off the horse."

  "I saw that. Very well done. Most men would have killed themselves, landing like that. I must congratulate him." Titus frowned. "I've seen the clouds, Hercules. May I assume that's Hera at work? And that she may be at work a little sooner than you had"— he almost choked—"planned?"

  Hercules could do nothing but nod unhappily.

  Titus glared, was about to say something, but instead ordered the small procession on its way. The cheers began anew and the flowers and blossoms flew while Titus stayed Hercules with a look. That they were surrounded by dancing, celebrating people only made them more isolated.

  "That storm," Titus said angrily. "It's going to destroy my city, isn't it?" A whip-shake of his head kept Hercules from responding. "I'm no hero, Hercules. The gods know that. I've done things I'm not proud of.

  But I love this city, and I love its people."

  "Titus—" Hercules protested.

  "No. Not a word. Not one word. Hera will get me for this, I'm sure, but..." He took a deep breath, and released it with a shudder. "The shrine. It's—"

  Hercules grabbed his shoulder. "I know, Titus, I know. Iolaus found it this morning."

  Suddenly the robes of office seemed much too large for his frame, and Titus much too old to rule. With all the gaiety around him, he looked like a man attending the funeral of a loved one.

  And, Hercules realized, in a very real sense he was.

  Titus walked away as the wind rose and the sky darkened. The torches and fire pans were lit as if on signal, filling the plaza with dancing light and racing shadows. Applause followed the leader, but he ac-knowledged none of it, turning only once, when he reached the fourth step and Jocasta met him.

  Hercules saw them exchanging whispers, saw her lean into him and embrace him.

  They were too small for the towering building above them.

  Much too small.

  He made no move to attract their attention. It wouldn't matter anyway. Yet he was afraid that Titus, facing disgrace and the destruction, would do something stupid.

  What had to be done, then, had to be done swiftly.

  He turned and pushed his way through the thinning crowd, each step a spark that tried to ignite his anger.

  At Hera, for bringing an essentially good man down to this level, and at himself for trying to be too clever.

  When his anger finally flared, he began to run.

  The Klothon was waiting, out there in the sea.

  Before the night and the storm were over, one of them would be dead.

  The storm didn't simply break.

  It erupted.

  The winds were hordes of banshees, shrieking through every alley and street, ripping banners to shreds, slamming shutters so hard they shattered if they weren't fastened quickly enough, spinning sand-paper dervishes of grit and garbage into the eyes of those who raced for shelter.

  Once confined to the depths of the clouds, lightning broke free and spat over the city, and the thunder that followed shook the ground and hammered the buildings and made more than one man cry out in pain and fear.

  What little light remained was a sickly, ominous black green.

  Astounded that Iolaus could have gotten so far ahead of him, Hercules sprinted down the nearly deserted boulevard. He made no attempt to retrace the shortcut Venitia had shown them that morning; that was an easy invitation to getting hopelessly lost. Instead he kept to the center of the street, slowed by the wind slamming into his face, shoving at him from all sides, once slapping him square in the back and nearly toppling him into a chariot smashed against a shop wall.

  When he finally reached the city's edge, he ran a hundred yards more and veered to his left, easily climbing the low grassless embankment that now rose above the boulevard on both sides.

  Once he was separated from the buildings, there was no protection at all.

  He ran, but the storm wouldn't permit a pace much faster than a brisk walk; lightning speared the ground behind him as if it were seeking him out; and at last the rain began, cold and hard, bl
inding him instantly, forcing him to raise an arm over his brow so that he could make his way without tripping and breaking a leg.

  To the right the sea thundered, and the wind-driven spray blended with the rain.

  A quick glance during a lightning flare nearly caused him to stop—waves twice and three times the height of a man arced over the beach, but crashed far beyond it.

  The tide was in.

  He knew it wouldn't be long before the sea reached the city. Had Themon remained in its original site, it wouldn't have lasted a hour; now it would be lucky to last the night.

  The land rose, earth churned to mud, the grass grew slick.

  Hercules struggled up the east side of the slope, half the time bent over so far he had to use his hands to pull himself along.

  If we get out of this ... he thought grimly.

  When we get out of this, he corrected, none too optimistically, 1 am going to have a long talk with Iolaus. A real long talk. And if he says one word, I'm gonna deck him.

  He fell only once, but in doing so slid a good ten feet back, cursing the entire way. When he regained his feet, using his hands to wipe the mud from his face, he ordered himself to slow down, because he would only wear himself out, and what good would he be then?

  A blue-white bolt slammed into the flatland below.

  On the other hand, he decided, deliberation was making him too easy a target.

  He ran.

  Rather, he tried to run, battling his own weariness as well as the storm's power, grinning mirthlessly when he reached the top. Swaying. Panting. Blinking away the salty rain as he looked around for the others.

  He didn't locate them until a triple-forked bolt ripped through the clouds. They were near the cliff's edge, Iolaus flapping his arms helplessly as three guards grappled with Cire, and three others struggled with a length of thick rope the wind kept trying to wind around their necks.

  An honor, huh? Hercules thought as he ran forward; the queen faces her destiny proudly, does she?

  "Herc!" Iolaus yelled when he saw him. "Herc, they won't listen!"

  Cire just glared over a guard's shoulder and screamed in his ear. The guard flinched, but held onto the rope.

  It took only a second and Iolaus pointing angrily to locate the man in charge. Hercules grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Let her go!"

  "Are you nuts?" the man answered, his lips blue with the cold. Nervously he drew a short sword from its scabbard. "They'll kill me!"

  "They'll have to get through me first."

  The guard glanced uneasily from side to side, torn between self-preservation and the duty he had been given.

  "Herc!" Iolaus called.

  "Come on, man," Hercules commanded the guard. "We haven't got all night."

  "Herc!" Iolaus called, but Hercules still ignored him.

  Just then Cire screamed again, lashing out with her feet, biting at whatever flesh or armor came near her teeth.

  A wave exploded against the cliff, shaking the ground, spray and foam sweeping over the top to add to the downpour.

  Finally the guard, nearly weeping, shook his head. "My duty, Hercules, my duty."

  Hercules felt for the man, but right now he couldn't be bothered with duty or orders. He drew his arm back to slap the guard aside, and swore when the trio with the rope barreled into him and their leader, dropping the rope as they stumbled as fast as they could toward the trees. The guard bellowed at his men.

  "Herc, will you please listen to me!" Iolaus shouted. That was when Hercules finally saw it.

  It rose through the strobe of the lightning. Slowly.

  The shadow in his dream-He saw the horns first, thick and dark, aiming forward from either side of a head bisected by a bony ridge that began between its eyes and disappeared behind the crown of its head.

  The eyes themselves were vivid green and slanted upward at the corners. Nothing in them but the reflection of the storm.

  Once alerted to the danger, the guards bolted, leaving Cire on the ground to crawl inland as fast as she could. Hercules ran to stand over her, Iolaus at his side.

  They were less than ten feet from the edge of the cliff.

  The monstrous head cleared the top, steady in the howling wind.

  Below the eyes, the head was long and narrow, resembling a serpent but with lips that curled back to expose a quartet of fangs half as large as a man, one pair on top, the other on the bottom.

  Iolaus had his sword out.

  Hercules met the Klothon's gaze and held it, seeing in the next series of flashes the diamond-shape scales that covered the head and part of a long thin neck. The scales glittered like crystal prisms.

  The thing was, at the same time, both beautiful and horrid.

  And in every flash of lightning, Hercules could feel the weight of its shadow.

  And the weight of Hera's fury and lust for revenge.

  "Don't move," Hercules said, and realized that he couldn't move even if he wanted to, because Cire had grabbed his left leg and was clinging like a sprung bear trap.

  "Cire," he whispered fiercely, "let go."

  "Are you nuts?" was her reply. "I'm this thing's dinner!"

  He stared at the Klothon's eyes. "1 can't move with you hanging on down there."

  "You just said not to move," Cire told him with maddening stubbornness.

  Iolaus shifted to his right. One step. Two, before the creature swiveled its head to follow his hesitant progress. Iolaus froze.

  Another huge wave struck the cliff, and the Klothon jerked back, tilting its head toward the clouds and roaring at the storm.

  Hercules couldn't help noticing all the teeth in its gaping maw. The kind meant for rending, not for chewing.

  He also saw the band of comparatively pale, ribbed flesh Poseidon had told him about; it seemed to run from the throat down as much of the neck as he could see.

  Swell; all he had to do was get in there without the beast knowing, and slice it down about, oh, ten, fifteen feet.

  He looked at his swordless hands.

  "Damn."

  Iolaus sidestepped again, just as another wave struck the beast and the cliff. And again the Klothon reared, swinging its head ponderously from side to side, leaning forward, leaning back.

  Hercules almost smiled.

  "Cire, let go," he said tightly.

  Finally, she complied, but she didn't flee; instead she curled into a tight ball and looked up at Hercules in terror.

  He signaled Iolaus to move again at the next wave. When Iolaus did so, Hercules lunged toward the cliff edge and looked down.

  This time he did grin.

  Although much of the Klothon was still submerged in water, he saw two massive feet gripping the cliff face. Or trying to. Its black claws had a difficult time gaining purchase on the storm-slick rocks, nearly losing their hold each time a wave thundered past the boulders to strike the creature's shoulders and the base of its neck.

  Iolaus shouted.

  Hercules leaped back and to the left, feeling the sweep of the great head over the spot where he'd just been. As he scrambled frantically to his feet he nearly lost his balance; seeing the gouge where the upper fangs had hit the earth instead of him made his legs want to take charge and leave, with or without the rest of him.

  The Klothon dipped its head a second time, aiming for Iolaus, who dodged neatly, and from one knee was able to nick the side of its jaw with a desperate sweep of his sword.

  It reared, bellowed, shook its head angrily, and almost toppled in the tide- and storm-driven rush of the next huge wave.

  Another attempt by the Klothon, and Hercules easily got out of its way. That didn't really surprise him—the Klothon was a creature of the sea, and while its size and weight were easily borne by the water, here on land they were an incumbrance.

  "Iolaus," he called as the beast fought for a grip after another wave. "Iolaus, get him to come to you."

  Iolaus gaped. "Do .. . what?"

  The Klothon roared.

&
nbsp; Frantically Hercules signaled, ending with a trust me that, from Iolaus's expression, probably wasn't all that persuasive.

  Still, he had to test something, and this was the only way.

  He braced himself.

  And waited.

  Iolaus shrugged, yelled something about his funeral, then turned to the recovering Klothon and waved his arms, danced, ran to the edge of the cliff and back, stuck out his tongue, and seemed to be considering throwing a rock or two, when the monster pulled back its head, measured the distance, and lashed out.

  Iolaus yelped and threw himself to the ground, covering his head with his arms.

  Without hesitating, Hercules leaped toward the Klothon's head as it completed its sweeping motion, and grabbed the nearest horn, pulling as hard as he could as the Klothon rose.

  The head lowered, twisting to one side, in the direction of the pull.

  Hercules was dragged several feet before he released the horn, yelled to Iolaus, and ran for the trees. On the way, he snatched Cire under one arm and ignored her cries of protest until they were safe.

  "You're crazy!" she yelled, slapping harmlessly at his chest.

  Iolaus, his front slick with mud, only looked toward the sea, brow creased in thought.

  "It's the only way," Hercules told him.

  "No, it's not," Cire said. "We just keep running, that's all."

  In the flashes of lightning they could see the green eyes of the Klothon searching for its prey, could sense the strain as it tried to drag itself higher.

  "I don't get it," Iolaus said. "Why doesn't it come up?"

  Cire put a fist to her chin and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. "The waves," she said through chattering teeth. "I saw it before. They hit it, and they drag it back, too. If it wasn't for the storm, it. . ."

  She looked at them both. "Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Hercules, you can't be thinking that—"

  She didn't finish.

  One chance, he told his friend. There's only one chance, and if Poseidon's right, we may be okay; if he's wrong, we're going to have dinner with Hades tonight. All you have to do is follow my lead.