Author’s Note: This is chapter 26 in a continuing arc. I claim no ownership or copyright to our dear Iolaus, just his towel. Comments always welcome.
To read a summary of previous chapters, click here
Forget they're hiding.
Behind an eminence front
“Eminence Front” - The Who
The marketplace was crowded, filled with merchants hawking their wares to buyers looking for bargains as travelers passed through and an assortment of children and animals tumbled underfoot to add to the chaos. But Iolaus, being of a less imposing stature and possessing a slightly stealthy nature, had no trouble weaving through the crowds to navigate the streets with single minded purpose. And the boy who followed him was likewise slight in build and had made it a hobby to tag after the hunter whenever he could for the last eight years, so he too slipped around the villagers with ease. They bypassed the makeshift booths and stands that lined the center street of town, and Iolaus made a beeline for one of the quiet, unadorned shops that had the luxury of waiting for business to come to it, rather than parading its goods out in the open market for all to see.
Inside the hunter was greeted warmly by a large, ruddy faced man who shook his hand vigorously before turning to clap a friendly paw on the boy's shoulder.
"Well, Amyntas, rumor has it that you're going off to the Academy."
"Yes, sir," the boy replied softly. "If Cheiron will have me, that is."
"I don't think that will be a problem," Iolaus chuckled. "Being that Jason is personally escorting him there in the morning and recommending him for admission."
"That's quite a reference," the shopkeeper said admiringly after a low whistle.
"Even without it, our young Amyntas has all the makings of a top cadet," the hunter continued. "Except, he needs a pair of gauntlets."
"Oh, ay," the man agreed heartily. "A warrior is only as good as his gauntlets. In fact, I hear that the mighty Hercules owes his life to his." The shopkeeper winked at Iolaus and looped an arm around the boy. "Come with me, son. I've got just the thing for you."
"Hercules," the hunter snorted under his breath, shaking his head. "Owes his life to good old Hephaestus, you mean. He’s the one who made them.”
Once Amyntas was properly fitted, Iolaus paid the shopkeeper and they continued through town, picking up a few other items that the former cadet thought his young friend would need. He equipped the boy to his satisfaction and was about to announce them as finished, but a rack of knives in one of the small booths caught his attention. The seller was offering a good price, so the hunter hefted one to judge it's weight before looking it over with a practiced eye.
"Not bad," he declared. "Lightweight, but functional. What do you think?"
But as he turned around, he discovered that the boy wasn't even listening. Amyntas was staring raptly at a collection of jeweled silver combs sparkling in the sun in the next booth. He was completely entranced, and practically jumped out of his skin when Iolaus tapped him on the shoulder.
"I know you want to make an impression on the other cadets, but I'm not sure that's the message you want to send on your first day," the hunter grinned slyly.
"Not for me," the boy protested quickly, blushing slightly. "I... I was just thinking how pretty they'd look in Aurora's hair." He took a deep breath and looked up at his mentor beseechingly. "I really like her, Iolaus."
"I know you do," he replied, sobering.
"Then what can I do to make her like me?"
"Unfortunately, you can't make her like you," the hunter told him gently. "Either she does, or she doesn't. But Aurora's had a really hard time of it, and I just don't think she's ready to like anyone right now."
"Do you think she'll ever change her mind?" Amyntas asked hopefully.
"Maybe. If you really care about her, just give her some time and some space, but let her know that you're there for her when she needs a friend."
"Somebody really hurt her, didn't they?" the boy whispered.
"Yeah," Iolaus answered, feeling an ache in his heart to think back on how that beautiful little girl that he loved like a daughter had been so violated and violently betrayed by her own family. "Yeah, somebody did."
"You can tell," Amyntas murmured. "She wears this mask all the time, like she's shutting out the world because she can't trust anyone. But then sometimes... Sometimes when she's playing with Cale or out in the field picking flowers she drops it and I can see who she really is. And the look in her eyes... It's like I can't breathe and my heart starts pounding and my legs melt out from under me..." He trailed off, coloring in embarrassment to realize he'd been babbling on about sickeningly mushy stuff to his tough guy idol.
"I understand," the hunter laughed, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I still feel that way when I look at Elissa."
"You do?"
"Of course I do," Iolaus confirmed. "And if you really feel that way about Aurora, then you'll hang in there. I'll bet that someday she'll be ready to trust someone again."
"And when she is, you think she might decide that she likes me after all?"
"What's not to like?" the hunter grinned, ruffling his hair. "Look, don't worry about it. Things that are meant to be have a way of working themselves out."
"Like Hercules and Hebe?" Amyntas asked, overly innocent but with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"And what do you know about them?" Iolaus questioned, putting his hands on his hips.
"Nothing," the boy attested. "It's just that since they decided that they like each other, Hercules really hasn't been around at all..."
"It's called making up for lost time. You'll understand when you're older," the hunter promised, giving him a light punch in the arm. "Come on, I want you to look at these knives."
Amyntas selected the one he liked, and stood running a finger delicately over the blade while Iolaus paid for it. When the transaction was finished, the boy made a big deal of attaching the sheath to his belt in an attempt to feign casual nonchalance.
"Iolaus, did you mean what you said before? You know, about me making a good cadet."
"Sure," the hunter replied. "You might not be the biggest or the strongest or the fastest, but that's not important. You've got good instincts, and you have a brave, fighting heart. That's really what matters. Just listen to Cheiron and everything else will fall in place."
"I will," the boy said quietly. "More than anything, I want to make you proud."
"You already do," Iolaus assured him, pulling him to his side for a half hug. "You want to stop at the inn for a cider before we head home?"
"Ok," Amyntas agreed, his eyes glowing at the praise his hero had bestowed upon him.
The hunter clapped him on the back and they made their way down the street to the cosy inn that sat on the corner. It was surprisingly busy for mid-afternoon, and they decided just to have a seat at the counter. Iolaus ordered the cider and a mug of mead for himself, and when the innkeeper brought the drinks the hunter leaned in closer and nodded discretely toward the table in the back.
"What's the story there?"
"On their way to Sparta, I think," Dion replied, swabbing a towel over the counter. "I sent my daughter to fetch Alcander."
"Have they given you any trouble?" Iolaus demanded.
"Just some noise and spilt ale," the innkeeper told him. "But I thought maybe we could prevent it from going any farther than that."
The hunter nodded and picked up his mug, sipping the mead and pretending to look over the room, though his gaze was firmly fixed on the group of men gathered around the back table. Scruffy, road worn, ill mannered. Possibly mercenaries or soldiers of fortune judging by the wardrobe. Loud, obnoxious, and used to getting what they wanted. Rowdy at their best, and dangerous with a few drinks under their belts. Iolaus had seen it a hundred times before in his journeys with Hercules. Men like that never had a couple rounds and then went on their way. They came to decent inns with the purpose of intimidating the locals and instigating trouble, literally daring anyone to stand up to them, knowing that nobody would. The hunter also hoped that Alcander would be able to circumvent all that, but if he couldn't, then these particular goons were going to be in for a big surprise.
When the magistrate entered the inn, he headed straight for the back table and waited patiently until he had the men's attention, or at least as much as they were capable of giving.
"Gentlemen," he began politely. "I wonder if I might inquire as to your purpose here in Acheron."
"What business is it of yours?" the leader sneered.
"I am Alcander the magistrate of Acheron," he explained. "And everything that goes on in this town is my business."
"You got a problem with us being here?" one of the men demanded.
"Not at all," Alcander assured him. "But this is a quiet town, and we don't want any trouble here."
"We haven't been any trouble, have we, wench?" the leader roared, pawing at the serving girl as she set another round of ales on the table. She pulled away, slapping him hard in the face and flouncing off toward the kitchen as the men howled with laughter.
"No, you haven't been any trouble," the magistrate frowned. "We would just like to keep it that way."
"And who's going to stop us if we decide we're in the mood for a little trouble?" the leader asked as he stood up and poked Alcander hard in the chest. "You?" He glanced around the room, taking in all the scared looks from the rest of the patrons, who hadn't dared make a move. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Get out of here, old man. You're spoiling our fun." He shoved the magistrate, sending him staggering backwards where he tripped over a chair and collapsed heavily against the wall.
"Hey!" Iolaus shouted, leaping off his stool to stand in front of the lowlife, glaring up at him with fire in his blue eyes. "You must think you're a big man, pushing around someone more than twice your age. But let's see you try that with me."
"Is this really what passes for law and order in this town?" the man hooted. "One wrinkled up old prune and his shrimp of a guard dog?"
Realizing that Amyntas was all eyes, the hunter knew he had to try and set a good example so he took a deep breath and counted to twenty.
"Lucky for you," he growled through clenched teeth. "I'm in a forgiving mood today. So I'm going to give you idiots the chance to walk out of here. And I suggest you take it and save yourselves the embarrassment of having your teeth kicked in by a shrimp."
The mercenary faced off with the man who dared to challenge him, his posture growing tense as they locked eyes. He was bigger and stronger and meaner and definitely not afraid to get his hands bloody, but something made him hesitate. It was something in his opponent's gaze... The calm, cool confidence of a warrior. It was obvious that this wasn't some yokel farmer with something to prove or desperate to impress. Nor was he one of those morons willing to take a beating while standing up for his principals. The blue eyes boring into him made it abundantly clear that this particular man was capable of backing up his threat. So after several long, tense moments, the mercenary relaxed.
"You're not even worth the effort," he sneered with a casual shrug as his buddies all laughed and jeered. He turned away, taking a step back toward his table, but then he whirled around with lightening fast speed, drawing the knife from his belt as he did so.
But Iolaus had been expecting a cowardly attack, and he reflexively ducked as the blade went whooshing over his head. The momentum caused the mercenary to lose his balance, and the hunter easily sent him crashing to the floor.
"Amyntas, stay there," he ordered sharply as he saw the boy slide off his stool and pull his own brand new knife out, intent on joining the battle. And although he desperately wanted to help, Amyntas obeyed, for he would do anything his hero asked him to.
Wishing that he hadn't left his sword at home, Iolaus quickly maneuvered to the center of the inn where he had room to deal with the rest of the mercenaries who were out to avenge their leader. He caught the first one with a spin kick, sending him reeling back. The second came at him low and hard, trying to knock him off his feet. Surprisingly, the hunter let himself get tackled, but he rolled with the fall, ending up sitting on the man's chest and delivering a powerful punch to his jaw. Jumping up, he saw the next two were rushing him from the sides, so it was a simple matter of diving out of the way and letting them crash into each other. The last one tried a sneak attack from behind, but Iolaus leapt up onto his shoulders and used his vantage point to lash out at the second wave, sending them all staggering off in separate directions. When the mercenary found he wasn't able to dislodge his passenger, and groggy from a stunning blow to the top of his head, he turned and ran at the wall, intending to knock the hunter off. But Iolaus took his leave well before impact, and the man only succeeded in sending himself into dark oblivion.
"I'm going to gut you like a fish!"
The hunter turned and faced the leader, coming at him once more with fury in his eyes and his knife clasped firmly in his hand. He began slashing wildly as he approached, anger and ale clouding his judgement. Iolaus danced and spun out of the way of the gleaming blade, letting his foe tire himself out and patiently waiting for his opportunity. After one particularly forceful lunge, the hunter grabbed the mercenary's arm and flipped him over his shoulder, slamming him down on his back against the floor. As he struggled to suck the air back into his lungs, the man found himself firmly pinned to the ground, his dropped knife against his throat.
"Now," Iolaus said quietly, but in a tone that meant business. "Take your men and leave town. Understand?"
He pressed the blade against the man's neck for emphasis, drawing a slight trickle of blood. Then carefully he withdrew, stepping back but remaining tense and ready in case the mercenary hadn't quite got the message. The man clambered to his feet, glaring hatred at the hunter, desperately wanting to attack him again and reclaim his dignity. But as he wiped his fingers across his throat and looked at the blood staining them, he thought better of it.
"Let's go," he ordered hoarsely, turning and stalking toward the door with barely contained rage, his pride shattered and his ego more injured than his body. Iolaus watched him go, relatively sure he had knocked the fight out of him, but not wanting to take any chances. The rest of the men picked themselves up and began slinking out after him to go off and lick their wounds.
"Behind you!"
The hunter whirled around at Amyntas' shout to see a mercenary charging him. He caught the man's leg as he tried to kick and shoved, sending him toppling backward on the floor. But before he could rise, a stool came down on his head. The wood shattered and the force of the blow knocked the mercenary out cold.
"I had to do something," Amyntas said sheepishly as Iolaus fixed a stern gaze on him.
"I could have handled him," the hunter said, then relented and grinned. "But thanks for the help." He chucked the boy under the chin and turned to survey the damage. The inn was relatively unscathed, with just a few tables and chairs tipped over but the only damage seemed to be the shattered bar stool. One of the serving girls was attending to Alcander, helping him up and dabbing at a bleeding cut on his head with her towel. Two mercenaries were unconscious on the floor, and the rest of the inn patrons were cheering wildly. Iolaus nodded at the innkeeper and a few of the more stout men that were present, and together they managed to drag the mercenaries across the street to the small room adjoining Alcander's house that served as Acheron's jail in the few rare cases where one was needed.
Once they were safely locked up, Dion entreated the hunter to return to his establishment, figuring he at least owed him a drink for his heroics. But Iolaus brushed him off, saying that he'd be along later as he turned his attentions to the magistrate. Even though the old man insisted he was fine, the hunter accompanied him inside and had him sit down so he could look at the cut on his head. It was just a minor wound once the bleeding had stopped, but Iolaus gently cleaned it for him anyway, deciding it wasn't worth a bandage.
"Thank you, son."
"No problem," the hunter told him. Although he was convinced that the injury was nothing to worry about, he could sense there was still something wrong. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'll be fine," the magistrate assured him, putting a hand on his arm to stop him as he started to rise from the bench where they were seated. "But I would like to talk to you about something."
"Sure."
"Iolaus, I want you to take my place."
"Your place?" the hunter repeated in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I want you to take my place. As magistrate of Acheron."
Iolaus was flabbergasted, and for a moment he was left speechless.
"Are you serious?" he finally managed to get out.
"I've lived in this town all my life," Alcander told him sadly. "And it's been my great honor and privilege to act as the voice of the law for the people here. But I'm an old man now, and what happened today just proves that I've outlived my usefulness. It's time for me to step down and make way for someone who can do the job justice."
"You can't let what happened with those goons get you down," the hunter consoled him. "There were six of them, and there was no way that you could have..."
"You're right," the magistrate interrupted. "I couldn't stand up to them. I couldn't even stand up to one. But you could, and you did."
"Yeah, I sent a few troublemakers packing," Iolaus said dismissively. "But that's no reason for you to give up your position."
"Yes, it is," Alcander argued. "Things have changed, Iolaus. Acheron used to be a quiet little town. But since they built that new road up north and put us on the route to Thrace, our humble little village is finding itself expanding in a hurry. Travelers are coming through, which brings merchants and craftsmen and tradesmen to serve them. Industry is growing, but trouble is going to grow along with it proportionally. Being magistrate isn't simply going to be about mediating petty squabbles and reigning in the drunks anymore. The job is going to require wisdom, and strength."
"But why me?" the hunter protested. "I don't know anything about the law. I even used to be a thief back when I was a kid."
"That doesn't matter," the magistrate told him. "You are a good man, Iolaus. You are fair and compassionate, and that's what's really important. The people here all like and respect you, and they'll trust you to keep order and keep them safe. And you have the skills and the brave heart to do it. I've always tried to do what's best for my people, and I can't let my pride get in the way of that now. It's time for me to go, and I owe it to Acheron to find the best replacement possible. And I'd never be able to do any better than you, my friend."
"I'm honored," Iolaus spoke up after a long silence. He sighed, turning to look the older man in the eye. "But I'm not the right one, Alcander. You're right, Acheron does deserve the best. But I'm not it." The hunter stood up, placing a warm hand on the magistrate's shoulder. "I'll help you in any way that I can," he promised. "But I just can't do what you ask."
Bidding the man farewell, Iolaus let himself out of the house and made his way back to the inn to collect Amyntas. However, Dion wouldn't let him leave without a drink and the hunter found it easier to oblige than argue. He had a seat and drank his ale, finally managing to excuse himself, saying that Elissa would have dinner waiting for him. Amidst good natured teasing about the 'old ball and chain', Iolaus finally slipped out of the inn with Amyntas in tow.
"Why did you teach me those fighting moves if you're never going to let me use them?"
The boy's voice broke into his thoughts and the hunter glanced down at his companion.
"Amyntas, I showed you a few moves for fun," he explained. "It's one thing when it's the two of us goofing around. But it's quite another thing to be in a real fight. Those mercenaries weren't playing around and I didn't want to see you get hurt." Iolaus slipped an arm around the boy's shoulders to take the sting from his words. "You can't pull a knife on guys like that without knowing how to use it. Or being ready to use it. Because if you hesitate, I guarantee that they won't."
"I'm not a kid anymore," Amyntas reminded him quietly. "And when you were my age, you were already fighting monsters."
"Not by choice," Iolaus laughed. "That's the price that comes with being best friends with a demigod. And I did have Hercules and Jason to help. But really, the three of us did some dumb things back then and we are lucky that we never got hurt worse than we did." The hunter stopped walking and faced his young friend. "Listen, Amyntas, I don't doubt your bravery or your loyalty. But you have to learn to walk before you can run. Go to the Academy and learn all you can from Cheiron. You'll never find a better teacher, and he'll train you well. Then, when you're ready, I'll be honored to have you fight at my side."
"Promise?" the boy asked, trying not to sound too needy.
"I promise," the hunter vowed solemnly, getting a huge grin in return. "Now come on, it's getting late."
They continued on, laughing and joking until they reached the fork that would take them to their separate homes. Amyntas said goodbye, telling his friend that he would be at the great stone house bright and early in the morning to meet Jason and begin the trip to the Academy. Iolaus watched him sprint off down the path, eager to share with his mother the excitement that had happened in town. With a smile and a slight shake of the head, the hunter made his own way home through the darkening twilight, entering the house just as everyone was sitting down to dinner. Apologizing for being late but assuring them he had a good excuse, Iolaus relayed the afternoon's events to his family. Aurora listened in awe, as did Cale. Not quite two, she didn't understand everything, but she had been enjoying her father's animated tales for months and tended to pay rapt attention whenever he launched into a story. Jason was naturally disappointed he had missed out on the fun, but Elissa was unusually quiet through the meal, excusing herself right after and disappearing into the bedroom.
When Iolaus took Cale to bed awhile later, he found the healer lying down, although she wasn't asleep and she sat up to kiss her daughter goodnight. The hunter tucked the child in and began her favorite bedtime story, although she succumbed to Morpheus' lure well before the ending. Rising from the stool next to the tiny bed in the corner, Iolaus moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed he shared with his wife, running a gentle hand along her back.
"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned that he had upset her with his latest adventure. She did tend to worry about him, especially since his recent disastrous trip to Colchis with Hercules.
"I'm ok," she replied, turning over to lay on her back. "Just a little tired." Elissa reached out, taking her husband's hand and twining her fingers through his as she studied his face in the dim candlelight. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he sighed, running his free hand through his unruly curls. "After I chased those thugs out of town today, Alcander asked me to take his place."
"As magistrate?"
"Yeah," the hunter answered. "Pretty crazy, huh?"
"I don't know about that." The healer pulled herself up to face him. "What did you say?"
"I told him that I couldn't." Iolaus sighed again, meeting her soft gaze before glancing away to watch the shadows dancing along the wall. "But I just can't understand why he asked me to begin with. I'm not even from Acheron."
"Thebes may claim you by birth," Elissa said with a smile. "But I think that the people here have long since adopted you as one of their own. And I also think that Alcander was acting with the town's best interest at heart. If he feels that it's time to step down, then he'd want to make sure that the villagers were in good hands before he left. And I know I'm biased, but Acheron couldn't ask for a better magistrate than you, my brave warrior."
"You think I should do it?" the hunter questioned, looking back to his wife.
"It's your decision," she replied, deliberately not answering. "You have to follow your heart."
"I just don't think it's my place," Iolaus murmured finally. He grinned, reaching out a hand to brush back a wisp of auburn hair from the healer's face. "Like you said, I'm a warrior. I just bring the villains to justice. I don't know that I want the responsibility of doling it out, too. Besides," he continued, growing serious again. "I won't have the time. I'm firing up the forge in the morning."
"You are, are you?" Elissa commented, arching an eyebrow at her husband for it was a declaration she had heard more than once.
"I know, I know," he grumbled, holding up a hand to silence her protests. "But this time I mean it." The forge on the side of the house had sat cold and empty for two years, despite all the hunter's good intentions of reclaiming his trade as a blacksmith. It just seemed like every time he had been ready to get to work, something else had come up to distract him. "I had to pay for a knife for Amyntas today. The kid's going to need a sword soon, and I always planned on making him his first one. So if I start now, I can shake the rust off and have one ready for him before he starts his second term at the Academy."
"Why don't you go with them tomorrow?" the healer suggested. "I know you'd like to see Cheiron again, and it might be fun to revisit your old stomping ground."
"I think I'll let Jason handle it," Iolaus told her. "I'll wait and visit later on in the semester when the new cadets have settled in a bit. Maybe Hercules and I can go, if he can manage to tear himself away from Hebe."
"Are you sure? You don't want one last adventure before you become a slave to your forge?"
The hunter looked into his wife's sparkling green eyes and grinned in response to her gentle teasing.
"I think I'm all adventured out."
She laughed at that, leaning into his warm embrace and wrapping her own arms tightly around him.
"Oh, I know you better than that, my love," she whispered into his ear. "You'll never tire of adventure. You thrive on it."
"True," he replied, hugging her to his chest. "But I think being a father to a two year old is adventure enough for anybody. What more do I need?"
"We'll see," the healer countered cryptically.
As promised, Amyntas arrived at the great stone house early, just as dawn was breaking. He was eager to start the journey, but the household was just beginning to stir and he found he had to reign in his enthusiasm and impatience until Jason was ready. Elissa was not feeling well and said a quick goodbye, giving the boy a hug and a kiss and wishing him well before she returned to her bed. The rest of them had breakfast, and then the Argonaut could no longer torture the youth and hurriedly gathered up his things and saddled up his stallion.
“Here,” Aurora offered, holding out a cloth bundle to the boy. “I made these for you for the trip.”
Amyntas peeked inside and discovered an ample supply of honey cakes. His heart jumped slightly, taking the gift as a favorable sign. Maybe Aurora didn’t like him the way he liked her, but she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of preparing his favorite pastry if she didn’t care about him on some level. And that was reason enough to keep hoping.
“I’ll write to you,” he murmured, looking at the girl with soft eyes. On impulse, he leaned forward and hugged her. Aurora stiffened at his touch, but she didn’t pull away. Resisting the urge to kiss her, not wanting his first kiss to end in a slap, Amyntas let her go and started up the path after the men as she took Cale by the hand and went back inside the house.
Iolaus walked them to the road, exchanging a shake with Jason. As the Argonaut swung up onto his horse, the hunter turned to the boy who was looking slightly uncertain for the first time.
“You’re going to be fine,” he assured Amyntas quietly. “Just do your best and listen to Cheiron. The rest will fall into place.”
“I will,” Amyntas vowed, before lowering his gaze and shuffling his feet slightly. “Iolaus, will you do something for me?”
“Name it,” the hunter told him.
“Will you look after my mother?” the boy asked in a small voice. “I’m worried about leaving her alone. She’s... got a lot of pride, and she doesn’t always ask for help when she needs it. I’d just feel better if I knew you were checking up on her.”
“I give you my word,” Iolaus promised him.
Amyntas met his gaze and grinned, relief spreading over his face. He stretched out a hand, and the hunter took it solemnly as they exchanged a warrior’s shake. It was a quick goodbye, and then they were gone, the Argonaut keeping his horse at a slow walk as the boy strode down the road beside him. Iolaus watched until they were out of sight, unable to deny that a part of him longed to join them. But those days of carefree adventuring were over, traded for a life of domesticity. And while he missed it from time to time, he never wanted to trade back, for what he had now was so much more important and precious to him. His beautiful, loving wife, and their daughter, whom he loved more than he’d ever thought possible. Jason touted the single life, declaring that he enjoyed the luxury of being unattached to any responsibilities. But Iolaus knew his old friend well, and he understood that the Argonaut would give anything just to have one more day with his beloved Alcmene. It was a constant reminder to him not to take what he had for granted, so the hunter turned his back on the open road and headed for the house to check on Elissa and play with Cale for a little while before he headed out to the forge and finally lit the fire.
It was a good day’s work, and Iolaus was satisfied. Getting back into his old trade had been harder than he’d anticipated, having forgotten how physically taxing smithing could be. At least, that’s what he chose to tell himself, rather than admit that it was probably just a lot less demanding on his twenty-something body. But whatever the reason, it had taken him awhile to work up to spending a whole day at his craft, but he had finally done it, with only a moderate amount of protest from his sore muscles. However, the quality of his work had not diminished with the passage of time, even if his stamina had. The hunter found that he fell back into it with ease, his hands skillfully working the hard metal into the objects of his choice flawlessly. He had always had a knack for it, and it appeared that some things just couldn’t be forgotten. Just in time, too, as the blacksmith that had served Acheron for years had just announced his intents to close up shop and move his family to his wife’s hometown of Plethos. Iolaus was ready to step up and meet the smithing demands of the town, thinking that perhaps the Fates were actually going to smile on him for once, and looking forward to finally being able to provide for his family properly.
The sun was setting as he emerged from the forge, and deciding he was too tired to haul in water for bathing, Iolaus instead headed for the stream that wound through the woods next to the great stone house. Initially he cringed at the thought of submerging himself in the chilly water, but once he relaxed down into the pool he found that it did wonders to soothe his aching body, cooling him sweetly after the heat of the forge and reinvigorating his tired muscles. The hunter rested for awhile, until the light became shadowy under the trees, then he bathed quickly and climbed out of the water, feeling refreshed as he toweled off and got dressed. His day’s labors had left him ravenous, and he eagerly headed for the house, not caring what was for dinner but just hoping there was plenty of it. But his path was intercepted by the innkeeper’s young son, who began shouting and waving at him as he caught sight of him from the road.
“Iolaus, there’s trouble at the inn!”
“All right, calm down,” the hunter instructed the excited boy as he came to a screeching halt in front of him. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s a group of men at the inn,” the boy explained. “They just came in and took over the place. Said that Acheron is their town now. My sister went to get Alcander, but he’s gone.”
“Gone?” Iolaus demanded. “What do you mean?”
“He’s not there. All she found was a note that said he wasn’t coming back after he took those two prisoners to Athens, and that we should come to you if there was any trouble.”
“Great,” the hunter sighed under his breath. He ran a hand through his damp hair, then crouched down to look the boy in the eye. “Listen to me. I want you to go back to town, but you go to your aunt and uncle’s house, all right. Do NOT go back home to the inn.”
“But...”
“No buts,” Iolaus told him firmly. “I want you someplace safe. I’ll go to the inn, and I’ll help your family. They’ll be all right, I promise.”
“All right,” the child agreed reluctantly. He hated to abandon his family, but he knew that he could do nothing to help. And, like many of the youngsters of Acheron, and even many of the adults, he had absolute faith in the mighty Iolaus. If the esteemed warrior vowed to help, then somehow everything would turn out all right.
The hunter watched the boy take off back down the road, and turned and let himself into the house. After a longing glance at the meal that was waiting on the table, he announced regretfully that he couldn’t stay.
“I don’t like this,” Elissa said quietly as she watched him take his sword down from where it hung on the wall.
“I don’t either,” Iolaus chuckled softly. “But I have to go, Lis.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I just can’t help worrying about you.”
“It’s probably those idiots from last week, back for more,” the hunter consoled her as he strapped his blade around his waist. “I beat them once, and I can do it again. Especially with my old friend at my side this time.” He patted his sheathed sword gently and then took his wife in his arms.
“I want to go with you,” she declared.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“But people could get hurt. What if a healer is needed?” Elissa argued.
“Then we’ll send for you when it’s all over.” Iolaus pulled back to look his beautiful wife in the eyes. “I worry about you, too, Lis. And I’ll be able to concentrate on what I’m doing a lot better if I know you’re safe here.”
“All right,” she conceded. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” he vowed.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything I suppose.”
Iolaus laughed and kissed her gently. Elissa reluctantly let him go so he could say goodbye to Cale and Aurora, and then he was gone, striding out of the house, looking every bit the confident warrior. He was the hero of the town, but to the family he left behind, he was merely the husband and father and friend that they prayed they wouldn’t lose.
The ruckus greeted his ears well before he reached the inn, and Iolaus’ steps faltered as he hesitated briefly. He was not afraid, nor was he doubting himself or his duty. But Elissa’s teasing aside, he knew he had to approach this situation carefully. The old days of diving into danger pell mell were over. He had a family to think about, and he had no desire to leave a widow and orphan behind because he’d been reckless. And though he hated to admit it, he was getting older and that fact had to be taken into consideration. He was still a stellar warrior, but some of the endless endurance and resistance he’d always enjoyed was starting to fade. It was not a problem yet, but in the interest of saving himself a little pain, Iolaus knew he needed to take a moment and formulate a plan of attack and adjust his fighting style slightly. When he was ready, he continued on, shoving the door of the inn open and entering the building with deadly purpose.
The inn had been overtaken by the group of clowns he’d previously run out of town. They were back, and this time they’d brought reinforcements. If Iolaus was dismayed by this, he didn’t show it. Instead his face twisted into a scowl as he took in the scene. The room was in shambles, littered with broken furniture and pottery. A group of patrons were huddled together in fear in the corner, watching as the ruthless mercenaries ravaged the facility’s store of food and ale. Glancing around, the hunter spied Dion, bruised and battered behind the ropes binding him, his face livid and red behind the gag in his mouth as he was forced to watch his wife and daughter being groped and pawed by the barbaric animals. It was all Iolaus needed to see, but before he could announce his displeasure, his presence was noted.
“Well, well, just the man we were looking for,” the leader sneered as he approached, looking the hunter up and down with derision. “Where’s that old fool of a magistrate? I want him here, too, so the fall of this town to us can be made official.”
“He’s not here,” Iolaus called out over the hoots and cheers of agreement. “You’re just dealing with me now.”
“You,” the man spat, walking around him in a slow circle as he continued his scrutiny, coming to a halt back in front of him. “Who do you think you are?”
The hunter glanced over at the captive group in the corner, who were watching the exchange with huge eyes. They were still scared, but hope burned anew in their faces. The faith and trust they had in him was palpable, and something welled up inside of Iolaus. He had spent many years in the shadow of a famous demigod, often overlooked and forgotten. But the people of Acheron had embraced him for who he was and what he could do, and they loved him in spite of his association with Hercules, rather than because of it. They were good people, and the hunter had grown to care deeply about them. And he knew he couldn’t stand by and let them be terrorized or hurt in any way.
Ever.
“Who am I?” he murmured, turning back to face the thug with a new light burning from his blue eyes. “I’M the magistrate of Acheron. And this is MY town, pal, and I will rot in Tartarus before I see it fall to you.”
“Oh, that can be arranged,” the man said grandly. “In fact, I’m counting on it.” He motioned quickly and a man rose from the corner and came to join them. For the first time, Iolaus began to feel nervous. The newcomer was a giant, hulking beast of a man, rivaling Hercules in size, and his dark eyes were cold and hard and glittering with meanness as he, too, scrutinized the hunter.
“This is the guy?” he grumbled in disbelief. “This one little guy beat the six of you?”
“We were drunk,” the leader protested sullenly.
“And amateurish,” Iolaus couldn’t resist adding.
“Well, I’m not drunk or amateurish,” the big man promised him. “And I don’t take kindly to smart mouthed little twerps beating up my brother.”
“And I don’t take kindly to being called ‘little’,” the hunter seethed. “So why don’t we take this family grudge match outside?”
The mercenaries complied, and they all filed out of the inn, forming a circle around the two adversaries who were facing off in the middle of the street. Iolaus preferred to be out where he had room to move, but he also had an ulterior motive for the change of locale. Focused on the impending fight, the thugs had forgotten about the townspeople they’d been busy tormenting, and the villagers were able to slip out of the inn undetected.
A few chose to flee, heading for the safety of their homes, but most lingered in the background to watch. The travelers just passing through were curious to see what would befall this brave, albeit foolhardy man, but the locals stayed to cheer on their hero and to see him mop the street with the goons who had been stupid enough to challenge him twice.
Iolaus circled his foe warily, sizing him up as his adrenalin took over, chasing away the fatigue and stiffness from his overworked muscles. The man was a hulking brute, definitely bigger and stronger than he was. But in the hunter’s experience, men like that tended to rely on their strength alone and were often lacking in speed and agility. Hercules was the exception to the rule, possessing a natural grace that complimented his vast strength. But years of sparring with the demigod gave Iolaus the confidence in himself to believe that even if his opponent was more nimble than he appeared, he could still best him. The fight before him was not going to be an easy one, but it was far from impossible.
The hunter attacked first, hurling himself at the brute in an attempt to try and knock him off his feet. But it was like slamming into a solid stone wall. The man didn’t budge, but brought a leg up to knee Iolaus hard in the gut before backhanding him. Staggering back, the hunter wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and launched himself again. He got in a series of sharp jabs to the stomach, but the thug didn’t even flinch. Backing off slightly, Iolaus rapidly reassessed the situation and unleashed a deadly spin kick, catching the man squarely in the face. He followed it up with a brutal boot to the gut, and this time his adversary was the one staggering back. The hunter got in a few good punches, but then the brute caught his arm, twisting it painfully and forcing him to his knees. Iolaus couldn’t hold back a groan as his arm was wrenched behind him, but the support and cheers from the growing crowd of villagers encouraged him and he gathered his strength and energy and flipped his foe forward onto the ground as he rolled out from underneath. Simultaneously, they got to their feet and faced off again, staring each other down as they tried to catch their breath for round two.
Iolaus was the first to recover and he kicked out at his opponent, who caught his leg and held him helpless as he doled out a killer right. The hunter staggered back again, a bit dazed, but he stayed on his feet and shook off the stinging blow to charge and deliver a forceful kick to the chest that sent the thug skittering across the ground. As he struggled to get up, Iolaus fingered the hilt of his sword, badly wanting to draw his weapon. But the other man was unarmed, and the hunter was a man of honor, so he left his blade sheathed, determined to keep the fight fair. He had hoped that some of his blows were beginning to take their toll, but as the brute got up he wiped the blood from his face and gave an evil grin, more than ready for round three.
Not enjoying the battle as much as his opponent seemed to be, Iolaus decided to make round three the final round. Going with what appeared to be working so far, the hunter attacked again, unleashing a series of spin kicks in rapid fire succession until the thug went crashing down on his hands and knees. He struggled to get up, and as he raised his head Iolaus clasped his hands together and drew back, putting everything he had into the double fisted blow. The brute flipped over to sprawl across the ground, and he did not get up again.
The townspeople cheered wildly, but the rest of the mercenaries did not take to the defeat well. After checking on his unconscious brother, the leader stood up and pointed at the panting hunter.
“Kill him,” he screamed in fury.
Sighing wearily, Iolaus pulled his sword out and brandished it in front of him, resigning himself to the fact that his battle was merely just beginning. Fifteen men rushed him, and the hunter gathered his reserves and began lashing out for all he was worth. His focus was entirely on repelling the first wave, but as the second wave came at him he noticed that it wasn’t quite as large as the first.
Dion, freed from his bonds by his family, had grown tired of watching. He rallied his neighbors, and as the mercenaries fell, the innkeeper and the rest of the men present made sure that they stayed down. Those that had any degree of fighting ability began exchanging blows with the thugs that Iolaus beat back, and those that couldn’t fight helped by snatching up dropped weapons and running off to find rope to bind the captives. One large, heavyset woman planted herself firmly on the chest of a fallen man, holding him down securely until he could be restrained.
With the combined efforts of the town, the fight was over in a matter of minutes. Iolaus glanced over the defeated men and the cheering villagers with no small satisfaction, then he turned his blue eyed gaze to the panting Dion.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said simply, for he was grateful for the help.
“You’re welcome, Iolaus,” the innkeeper replied, a teasing smile on his lips as he clapped a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Or should I call you ‘Magistrate’?”
The captives were stacked in the small jail cell, and Iolaus realized it would be up to him, as magistrate, to take them to Athens for trial. He also realized that if trouble like this was going to be a regular occurrence, they were going to need a bigger jail. His new position came with many responsibilities, but the hunter was beat and decided to worry about it all in the morning.
The inn was in shambles, but the villagers were all ecstatic over their victory and desperate for a celebration, even if they had to hold it in the street. But Iolaus wasn’t in the mood for a party. He looked no worse for wear, but after what had become a very long day, all he wanted was something to eat and a good night’s sleep. So after he made arrangements for the prisoners for the night, he delicately extracted himself from the happy townspeople and headed for home.
The hunter was bone tired, and ravenous, and as the thrill of battle began to fade he started noticing his aching muscles. All he could think about was returning home, relaxing by the fire, filling his stomach, and letting Elissa’s talented hands ease the soreness from his body. He was so wrapped up in these thoughts and the anticipation that they held, he failed to notice that he was being followed.
As he arrived back at the great stone house, Elissa met him at the door with a mixture of relief and concern. He took Cale from her, hoisting the little girl to his shoulder as he wrapped his free arm around his wife, quickly assuring her that he was all right. Hero had dashed out of the door, running in happy circles to express his delight in having his master home. But then suddenly the dog stopped, staring off through the darkness as the hackles rose on the back of his neck. Iolaus whistled at him as they started inside, but the dog ignored him, a low growl rumbling in his throat. The hunter whistled again, and after a moment Hero turned and loped back into the house as Iolaus shut the door behind his family.
A tall figure stirred in the shadows, nodding slightly as he came to a decision. What he had in mind would take planning and time, but he was patient and he could afford to wait until everything fell into place. Silently, he made his way back to the road and began walking briskly, away from town. He would be back, and when he returned, he wouldn’t just be observing. And then Iolaus would learn that a prestigious new title wouldn’t be enough to save his family, or himself. A lesson that was long overdue, and one that he was greatly looking forward to teaching. It was all part of the game.
Finis
Disclaimer: Iolaus’ towel from the bathing scene is now up for auction on Ebay. Serious bidders only, please.
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