Timothy Boggs - Hercules Legendary Joureneys 02

by Serpent's Shadow

  Iolaus shoved his hands back through his hair. "You know, all this talk about my funeral was only a joke."

  Hercules smiled, winked, and turned to Cire to explain her part.

  She balked.

  "It's the weight we need," he said earnestly, "and you haven't got it."

  Cire remained unconvinced. "If that's supposed to be a compliment, it's a little late, don't you think?"

  The Klothon bellowed.

  The storm intensified, and they looked back at the city, at the lightning strikes that lifted bright smoke over the rooftops.

  At last Cire swallowed and said, "I'm not a hero."

  "Someone else told me that today," Hercules said gently. "He was wrong, too."

  Iolaus was tired of waiting. He said, "Go," and headed for the cliff.

  Where the Klothon waited, watching every step.

  Hercules did his best to ignore the rage of the storm, concentrating on the Klothon and its pursuit, its head swaying slowly, jerking only when a wave threatened to unbalance it.

  It knows, he thought, and shook the thought off.

  "Herc?" Iolaus tried futilely to dry his hands on his vest. "What are the odds?"

  "Thinking about the odds will get you killed. Just think about what we have to do."

  Cire walked half a hundred yards to their left, her head bowed against the wind and rain, her hands pressed tightly to her thighs.

  She didn't look up until the Klothon showed its fangs and roared.

  "I hate your plans," Iolaus confessed with a rueful laugh.

  Hercules didn't reply.

  He watched Cire, willing her not to panic, afraid that even if she didn't, she wouldn't be fast enough to get away.

  The Klothon struck at her before she was in range.

  She didn't jump, or run away.

  Iolaus sighed loudly enough for both of them.

  "Watch," Hercules told him. "Watch it, the way it moves."

  The Klothon struck at Cire again, but not as a snake would. The head came down in a long rapid arc, as if the creature knew enough to use its weight to give it speed. Swift enough to catch the unwary, almost swift enough to catch even the wary.

  The sea's support again, Hercules supposed. If he was right, they had a chance.

  Cire stopped and looked over at the men.

  Iolaus waved, and Hercules nodded.

  This time the Klothon struck at them, too close, and they leaped to avoid the sharp fangs.

  They moved closer. Warily. Listening to the sea match the Klothon's roars.

  "At least there's the lightning," Iolaus said, bracing himself.

  Just then the lightning stopped.

  Nothing left but the night. And the storm.

  "Nice," said Hercules.

  "It's a gift," Iolaus answered gloomily.

  It was bad enough being blinded by the night; what was worse, the Klothon had stopped roaring, and all they could hear was the sea hitting the cliff.

  Hercules had to remind himself to breathe.

  Suddenly a single lightning bolt sliced out of the clouds and struck the water.

  In the brief illumination Hercules was able to discern the huge green eyes not ten feet from where he stood.

  He yelped and threw himself backward, feeling the push of air as the snout missed him by inches, the nearest fang leaving behind a thin tracery of white.

  "I am not happy," Iolaus told him from somewhere in the dark.

  Iolaus couldn't get his hands dry.

  He knew he'd need all the advantage he could get when he performed his part in this madness, but he couldn't get his hands dry enough.

  Not that it would matter much if Hercules missed and he didn't. Or if he missed and Hercules didn't. Or if one of them slipped and was caught by those teeth.

  He shuddered.

  "Stop it," Hercules said, somewhere to his left.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Just stop it."

  Iolaus scowled. He hated it when Herc did that; it was a reminder that sometimes the guy just wasn't human.

  Still, he'd feel a whole lot better if he could just dry his hands.

  Another bolt forked in several directions, lingering just long enough for Hercules to drop to his knees without thinking, and for him to see Cire run forward instead of back, the underside of the jaw brushing her spine and knocking her to the ground.

  The beast was higher this time, he realized. It had found purchase on the rocks.

  The wind stopped. The rain stopped. Nothing left but the sea.

  Hercules felt the tension, the gathering of a force as the Klothon prepared to launch its last attack.

  Iolaus gripped his hand, squeezed once, hard, and let him go.

  "One chance," he said. He swiped the hair from his eyes. "We need just one chance."

  "Is that a prayer or a statement of fact?"

  "Yes."

  "That's what I was afraid of."

  The storm's second eruption took them by surprise, beating them to their knees in a fury of rain and wave and wind. Hercules heard Iolaus curse, saw him then as the lightning renewed its assault on the city.

  They stood and looked for Cire.

  Hercules couldn't see her.

  No, he thought; she wouldn't have.

  "There," Iolaus said, pointing.

  The white of her gown was an eerie glow at the edge of the cliff, her hair as bright as the unnatural lighting. Her arms were up, and he could see her lips moving as she taunted the Klothon, dared it to attack again.

  He and Iolaus closed the distance between them, knowing this had to be the moment.

  And when it happened, Hercules stopped thinking and simply let his strength take over.

  It's all right, Iolaus told himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders, frantically trying to convince himself he was ready for anything; it's going to be all right.

  He had long since abandoned the notion of attempting to change Hercules' mind. If there were other arguments, he couldn't think of any; if Cire was ready, then he had to be ready as well.

  Still, Venitia and her squeaking were looking awfully good about now.

  But when it happened, Venitia was forgotten, and so were all his fears.

  This was war; there was nothing left to do but fight.

  The wave sprayed over the edge just as the Klothon swung at Cire from her left. She waited until the last moment, to be sure it wouldn't stop, then lunged for the edge, arms outstretched.

  The Klothon had jerked as the wave struck him, and in so doing had missed her.

  At least Hercules thought it had, but he was already off his feet, reaching desperately for the right-hand horn, grabbing it and nearly losing it as it swung past him, clenching his jaw as he held it, and pulled, feeling but not seeing Iolaus do the same.

  It happened too slowly, and much too swiftly.

  He saw the huge eye, staring at him, hating him.

  He felt his grip begin to slip, and only then remembered the rope the guards had left behind.

  The head kept its arc, twisting to one side, then the other, bringing them over the edge.

  Hanging there.

  Hanging.

  The eye didn't blink as Hercules strained, drawing on the power that was his father's legacy.

  Hanging for what seemed like a lifetime, and much longer.

  Until Hercules' strength, and the sudden added weight, brought the monstrous head down.

  Hard and fast.

  The tallest boulder caught it just below the throat, and there was a moment's resistance before he heard the flesh part and the Klothon begin to scream.

  The next thing Hercules knew he was flying. Tumbling toward the beach that boiled with the last wave.

  He thought he heard Iolaus yelling, knew he heard the Klothon bellowing in agony, just before something struck his head and everything merged with the storm and night.

  Iolaus fell, thought he heard Hercules, knew he heard the Klothon, but the idea of lan
ding on the beach made him twist in midair and watch the wave recede just as he reached it. The water wasn't deep, but it was, thank the gods, deep enough to slow him down when he hit the sand with palms out to brace himself.

  A push, another twist, and he was on his hands and knees as the water swirled away, sucked into the base of another wave somewhere out there.

  When he could stand he began to run. He didn't bother to look for Hercules; there was something else he had to do first. Before the next wave came in and smashed him against the rocks.

  Stumbling, for the first time grateful for the lighting that kept him from colliding with the high boulders, he made his way along the base of the cliff, pushing at every rock until suddenly there weren't any rocks left.

  He saw the wave as he fell into the tunnel.

  Boy, that sucker's big, was the only thing he could think as he pushed into a run that had him halfway down the dark tunnel before the walls shook, water surged around his knees, and he realized that for some reason, the wave couldn't follow.

  Five minutes later he saw the glow.

  Five minutes after that he was back outside, grinning broadly and wishing someone was there to see him.

  That's when he saw the wave cresting cliff-high over his head.

  Big, he thought, and closed his eyes, and waited.

  A voice tried to convince Hercules to open his eyes, but he didn't want to. It was nice in here. No monsters, no vengeful goddesses, no storms, no women with squeaky voices. Nice. And until that gentle nag-ging began, quiet.

  "Go away," he muttered.

  The voice kept on.

  "Leave me alone. I think I'm dead, and I think I like it."

  Laughter now. Familiar laughter, and against his better judgment, Hercules opened his eyes.

  He lay on his back on an expanse of grass and sand. The clouds were gone, the sun flirting with the western horizon. Seagulls and shore birds swarmed over the beach, picking at the debris the waves had left behind. The breeze was slow and warm.

  His head hurt.

  He groaned and sat up, touching the lump at the back of his skull and hissing.

  "Sorry about that."

  A man sat to his left, grinning smugly.

  It took a moment for Hercules to remember what had happened. Then he looked sharply to his right, holding his breath until he spotted Iolaus, lying peacefully on his back a few yards away.

  "He's out," Poseidon said. "I thought it would be best for a while."

  "Is he ... ?"

  "A little battered, a lot bruised. A brave man, Nephew. He destroyed Hera's shrine, and that took care of the storm." A finger poked his arm. "You, on the other hand, have a lot to learn about sea monsters."

  "Tell me about it," Hercules said, the ache in his head competing now with the ache in all his muscles.

  Far beyond where Iolaus lay—a mile, not much less—he saw the toothlike rocks.

  Even at this distance he could tell the Klothon was no longer there.

  He was halfway to his feet before Poseidon took his arm and pulled him down.

  "I tidied up a little," the sea god explained. "Except for the head. I left the head. Otherwise, they'd never know what happened."

  Hercules saw people then. The glint of waning sunlight on brass armor and spears.

  "You want something to eat?"

  “What?' Hercules saw two thick slices of bread in his uncle's hand, and something red and dripping between them. "What's that?"

  Poseidon smiled and shrugged. "Steak."

  "What's that?"

  "What you get from the flank of a dead critter, what else?" The sea god waved the fillet-of-sea-monster sandwich. "You want some?"

  Hercules shuddered. "No, thanks, I'll pass." He looked around again. "Cire. Where's— "

  "Asleep under the trees," Poseidon answered patiently. "You don't think I'd forget her, do you? Most courageous woman I've ever met."

  Hercules' eyes widened. "You talked to her?"

  "She'll think it's a dream."

  "It was a dream. A nightmare. I—" He stopped and very slowly turned toward his uncle. "It was you, wasn't it?"

  Poseidon stood and brushed the sand from his legs. "Me?" he said, so innocently that Hercules had to laugh. "Don't know what you're talking about."

  As Iolaus began to stir, Hercules and Poseidon walked down to the water.

  "You held it back," Hercules said, thinking aloud, remembering. "It would have made it up the cliff, but you held it back."

  Poseidon kept walking.

  "Then you caught me." Gingerly he touched his head. "What did I hit?"

  Poseidon waved his trident and lifted a shoulder in apology.

  "She'll be mad, you know," Hercules said, louder now that Poseidon was in the sea to his waist. "She'll hate you for this."

  Poseidon turned and walked backward. "She never liked me anyway, Hercules. And she'll be madder at you for escaping again than she ever will be at me."

  "Uncle ..." He didn't know what to say except a humble "Thank you."

  Poseidon waved the sandwich as he sank below the waves. "Don't mention it. The tuna, by the way, will love you. Klothon's going to last me for a long, long time."

  He laughed heartily and vanished, and a huge wave rose from the spot where he'd stood, crested, and carried Hercules a good twenty yards toward the grass.

  When he sat up sputtering and spitting, he heard, "Sorry again, Nephew," and another delighted laugh.

  Hercules didn't bother to stand up. He drew up his knees and stared at the water, letting the last of the warm sun dry him.

  "That was Poseidon, wasn't it?"

  He nodded as Iolaus dropped down beside him.

  "I thought he was a wave." Iolaus frowned, then shrugged. "Funny, I thought he was a lot bigger, too."

  "Oh, he is," Hercules said fondly. "You have no idea how really big he is."

  They walked back to Themon in twilight.

  The city was battered, but still standing more or less intact. Walls had cracked, roofs had caved in, and the sea had indeed swept up the boulevard all the way to the plaza. But there was nothing that couldn't be repaired with hard work and time.

  A few questions of passersby brought them to the house of Titus Perical, where an awestruck servant let them in. When Jocasta saw who had arrived, she wept with joy and hugged them, blessed them, wept, hugged them, and finally said, "The stories are true."

  "The Klothon?" Iolaus said. "Well, maybe they—"

  She grinned. "No. About you two."

  Once more, Hercules was embarrassed, and tried to cover it by asking about Titus. Jocasta wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and led them to a room near the back. Titus lay on a bed, covered to his chin, his hands at his sides, trembling.

  "He was out there the whole time," Jocasta told them, her voice filled with anger and love. "Directing everything. The fool. He said Hera's curse would get him anyway, so .. ."

  Hercules knelt beside the old man and laid a hand on his. The man was pale, too pale, and his breathing sounded like the rasp of rough metal.

  Titus opened his eyes.

  Hercules smiled.

  "Did we win?" the old man asked weakly.

  "We won." Hercules squeezed the hand gently. "Thanks to you."

  Titus tried to laugh, ended up coughing instead. "It was all my fault. Pride, Hercules, and a dose of self-importance, can make you do very foolish things."

  Hercules shook his head. "It was Hera from the beginning; you couldn't have fought her. You did what you thought was right." He paused and, at Iolaus' nod, added, "And you did well."

  Titus closed his eyes. "Too late."

  "No. You'll be fine."

  Titus opened one eye. "I... I suppose you have inside information?" he asked wearily.

  Hercules couldn't help a quiet laugh. "You could say that. Yes."

  He waited until he thought the old man had fallen asleep, then touched his shoulder with a finger and headed for the door.

&n
bsp; "Demeter," Titus wheezed suddenly, "is going to be really pissed, isn't she?"

  "Maybe," Hercules agreed. "But Hera's not too happy either. Demeter I can talk to, if she doesn't know what happened already. Hera?" He shrugged, and when Titus didn't respond, he left, following Jocasta down a short hall at her insistence.

  In another room he found Holix and Cire.

  "They're going to stay with us," Jocasta explained in a whisper. "They'll have their own cottage, I think. Holix claims he knows something about horses."

  "Yeah, right," Iolaus said good-naturedly. "Everything except how to stay on one."

  Hercules laughed.

  Holix laughed.

  Cire jumped to her feet.

  "What's the matter?" Holix asked, inhaling sharply when one of his broken ribs reminded him it was broken.

  "I can't find my knife!" Cire cried.

  Iolaus backed off, pulling Hercules with him. They still laughed, but they weren't taking any chances.

  At the front door, Jocasta thanked them again, so fervently that Hercules felt a blush rise to his face. He kissed her cheek and said, yes, they would both be honored to visit the new place once Titus was well.

  "I'll miss you. Miss you both."

  She kissed their cheeks and hurried away.

  Iolaus cleared his throat, clapped once, and said, "Okay. That's it. We're done. Let's get something to eat and hit the road."

  "Iolaus, it's almost dark."

  Iolaus stood in front of him, reached up to put his hands on Hercules' shoulders, and stared him in the eye. "Tell me the truth: do you want to spend one more hour in this place than you absolutely have to?'

  "But I thought you were a hero," Hercules said mildly. "All those women just waiting to hear your stories ... are you sure you want to pass that up?"

  "Herc, what I want—"

  A voice from inside the Perical house called his name. Sweetly. Insistently. With a definite squeak.

  "Meet you on the road," Iolaus said, and was gone.

  A moment later Venitia raced by, raced back, said, "Are you sure he's not married?"—and raced away.

  Once he had stopped laughing, Hercules took to the street. No hurry. Nothing to do but get back on the road.