Part 1
It is bitterly cold. The wind that tears down the sides of the mountains behind us stalks us across the snowy plain pelting us mercilessly with particles of ice and small stones as it threads its way across the boulder-strewn plateau. I walk as close to Iolaus as I can without treading on his heels, trying to keep myself between him and the stinging wind, but it is not possible; it comes from three directions at once, gusting and swirling around us like some mad thing intent on hampering our progress.
Iolaus walks on doggedly, as sure-footed as a mountain goat on the slippery, icy ground His shoulders are hunched against the cold, his long blue cloak wrapped tightly about his slight frame, and one of our tattered blankets drawn so far over his head that all he can see is the ground before him. While he searches out the safest path, I scan ahead, alert for danger, although the only danger that might be found here is a lone mountain lion or perhaps a bear, on an afternoon forage from its winter cave. Neither is likely to bother us.
Iolaus feels the cold more acutely than I do. I am wearing the old brown coat that my mother made for me so many years ago, shortly before her death, grown thin and thread-bare, but still a beloved garment, much like the shabby vest that Iolaus refuses to part with. The ice that stings my cheeks melts and runs down my chin as it meets the warm blood of the gods that runs through my veins.
It has been years since I have thought of myself as Hercules, the demigod. The gifts that were bestowed upon me by my father have become so much a part of who I am that I no longer think of them as unnatural. I haven't seen Zeus for a long time, not since our last meeting, shortly after he and the other Olympians had retired to their mountain aerie, floating like wraiths along the marbled halls of their vaulted palaces, turning their backs on a world that had forsaken them.
My father once told me that gods have power over mortals only so long as mortals believe in them. I didn't understand him then, but now I do. The people of Greece had turned away from their old gods, who, as temples emptied and fell into ruins and acolytes drifted away, withdrew, no longer able to influence the affairs of men. Ares, once the dreaded god who led maddened men to violent death, sits alone in his faded temple. Right now, at this time in the history of the world, in this place, people are sick of war and the miseries it brings. There will be wars again, war is part of what mortals are, but there will be new gods to lead their people to victory or defeat. Hephaestus toils alone in his forge beneath Olympus, hammering out weapons and armory that will never see a battlefield. Poor Hera, long my bitter enemy, now looks upon me with indifference, her hatred drained away along with her fierce glory. Artemis, Apollo and Athena, nearly forgotten by a world that once loved and honored them, while away empty days in mindless pursuits.
Only Aphrodite endures, and I smile when I think of her, far away from melancholic Olympus and its lost splendor, on her island home of Cyprus; where flowers bloom year round, and lovers come to her still with their hopes and hearts' desires. Zeus told me her story the last time we met, of how she had risen full-grown from the sea eons before the third age, centuries before his own ascension as the King of the Gods, of her coming to Olympus as his daughter at his request to bring the knowledge of love to his newly-created race of man. And now she has returned to her origins, to live on forever, to soften hearts, to bring a thin ray of light and hope to the darkest of days, for even when all else is gone, when bitterness and hatred seem to rule mankind, there will always be a place deep within the soul that believes in the power of love.
Iolaus has stopped and I, my thoughts adrift, nearly run into him. We have come to the end of the snowfield and are poised on the lip of a scree-covered slope that will take us off these mountains, into the foothills, and then to the warmer regions below. The sun is kissing the tip of the mountains to the west throwing the land directly below into deep shadow, but ahead of us stretching away to the south is Thrace, that beautiful land of dark forests, lush meadows, lakes, rivers and hills, all tumbling away before us toward the unseen sea.
I smile, remembering this place. We were here many years ago, before that awful year of pain and darkness when I thought Iolaus lost to me forever. He looks back at me, a slight questioning smile on his lips; he remembers too. Not far ahead, nestled in the foothills, is a village where we had spent the night those years past. I remember it very well; the inn was called the Sparta Hotel and that had made Iolaus laugh. We were a long, long way from Sparta and the shabby little inn was even further away from deserving the title of hotel. But it was homey and warm, with a roaring fire on the stone hearth where we sat that evening drinking warmed wine. The beds were comfortable with thick, soft quilts, and the food plentiful and well cooked; if the inn is still in business, we can look forward to a cozy night out of the ice and cold.
As if reading my thoughts, his smile becomes a grin. But all he says is "Ready?" I nod and we begin the descent. The scree faces south and the sun and the gentle southerly breezes have melted the ice and snow so the way is not difficult.
The slope ends in a meadow of brown grass made stiff by the winter winds. I look around trying to get my bearing, but Iolaus knows exactly in which direction the village lies. It still amazes me, even after the many years we have been together, that Iolaus never gets lost; he is as at home on this earth as Gaia herself. He laughs at me sometimes, me who once got lost in the small wood behind my mother's house.
He finds our direction and strides off confidently and I follow, going east along the outskirts of the forest, then turning right onto a woodland trail so faint that I believe only Iolaus could have found it. The path is dense, overgrown and has not been much used by humans for a long time. Dreams of a good meal and a soft bed fade, and sure enough, when we walk suddenly into the little village, it is deserted, and for many years, apparently, from the look of it. Homes and shops, once bustling with life and color are gray with age, their thatched roofs snatched away by the wind and their timbers fallen in like rotted teeth. We walk through the street wonderingly. Bandits, I surmise, or the plague. But Iolaus shakes his head. Avalanche, he says, and points to the houses along the side of the street that runs under the mountains slope. The backs of the buildings are crushed as if a careless giant had passed through. We peek through gaping holes in some of the buildings, but there is nothing to see, no broken furnishings, no bits of pottery or pieces of rusted lanterns. It is as if the survivors of that long ago catastrophe had gathered up their belongings and moved on.
Iolaus stops and nudges me, pointing. The wooden sign hangs crookedly over the sagging doorway, and the door itself is lying on its side against the outer wall, but the weathered words proclaim that we are standing before the Sparta Hotel. The back wall and the kitchen have been crushed by the weight of snows long past, but the front is largely undamaged, and through the doorway we can see that the chimney is still standing.
I step up onto the porch gingerly; it creaks, but holds my weight. Iolaus jumps lightly up beside me and we edge into the front room, warily watching the sign as it swings and wobbles in the wind, threatening to fall as if annoyed that we have disturbed its solitude. The main room is intact, but the wall between it and the kitchen has been crushed. The chimney rises like a monolith from the jumble of timbers and planks that have fallen from the upper floor and formed a makeshift barrier to the outside, effectively shutting out much of the cold. Part of the roof is gone, but the cross beams are still in place, and the darkening sky peers down at us through the gaps where the thatch has blown away or dropped in great clumps to the floor. Soft beds we will not have and if it rains or snows we may get wet. Dinner will be what is left in our packs and there is no wine, but if the chimney will draw properly, we shall have our warm fire tonight.
Iolaus starts gathering up bundles of thatch and pieces of broken boards for the fire while I poke about in the chimney with a long pole, dislodging dirt, soot and several dried-up bird's nests. Much of the debris falls on my head and Iolaus, laughing, brushes it away. The chimney is finally cleared, and I leave the building of the fire to him while I go outside to cut evergreen boughs for our bed. I cannot offer him a featherbed as I had hoped, but I will not have him sleep on the hard floor.
As I step back upon the porch, I hear him coughing again and a familiar stab of fear pierces my heart. When I enter the room he is kneeling on the hearth feeding bits of wood to the growing flame. He stopped coughing when he heard my step, and I wonder how long he has been trying to hide it. It's been three years since the plague nearly stole him from me and left behind this wracking cough that never seems to go completely away. I worry, and he hates to have me worry, but accepts that it is a part of my nature that I cannot change.
The light of the fire illuminates his tangled curls, and it startles me still, to see the streaks of gray among those golden locks. Kneeling by the hearth, his back to me, he looks small, vulnerable, aged, but then he turns and smiles up at me; time falls away; he is young again, strong, durable, not a man of over sixty years.
His smile still has the power to bind me irrevocably to him, he is so familiar, so cherished, so much a part of who I am. Sometimes we go for weeks without seeing another human face or hearing another human voice. I don't mind, but I know Iolaus does. Although he loves me as dearly as I love him, sometimes he needs the music, the laughter; the sounds of humanity around him. But he is all that I ever need. On those now very rare occasions when we are apart, I am filled again with the bitter loneliness of that long-ago time, when the Light had claimed him, and I was left behind to face a bleak future without him.
I spread the boughs before the fire to dry. Iolaus has already hung our wet things by the chimney, taken our cooking utensils from our packs, and set them aside for me. I still do most of our cooking; Iolaus claims he simply cannot learn, but I think it makes him happy, having someone cook for him. And besides, I enjoy it. When we are at home, and home is still my mother's cottage, I pore over her old recipes, lovingly written out by her on bits of parchment, and preserved in a waterproof box. A last gift to two wandering heroes. And all the treats she made for Iolaus when he was a boy, I can make for him now.
Home. I am sitting by the fire on this lonely mountainside, although I am not lonely; Iolaus is at my side, so how can I be? But I long for home, its comfort and familiarity, the hearth where Iolaus and I have spent so many winter evenings, talking far into the night. I miss waking up at dawn in our bed with Iolaus snuggled against me for warmth, watching the daylight grow around us. And the treehouse, which we so painstakingly keep in good repair, still nestled in the fork of the old beech tree by the side of the lake where we spent so many happy hours, both as boys and men.
I want to go home. Not just for a month or two as has been our habit for many years. I want to go home to stay. To give up this wandering life and settle down. With Iolaus. But Iolaus refuses to consider it. He thinks it's because of him; because he is no longer young and I am afraid for him. For you see, though he is growing old, I am not.
I am immortal, frozen forever in the prime of life; there are no gray streaks in my hair, not any more. But it was not always so. I was mortal; and in the normal course of events, I would have lived, died and then been taken to Olympus to become one of the gods and I would have had the power to take Iolaus with me wherever we chose to go. But the twilight changed all that, and when Zeus offered me, in the place of godhood, the gift of immortality, I took it. And in doing so, betrayed Iolaus.
But I know my Iolaus. Eventually he will give in, expecting that I will take him home and then leave him there on some pretext. I know he feels that he is no longer able to protect me; that some day, he might let me down when I sorely need him. Even though I cannot be easily killed, I can be hurt, severely. And that is another wedge between us. As he feels his body slowing with age, he sees mine remain young and strong, and he knows deep inside, he cannot put off much longer the day when he must cease his wanderings.
Not that our present life is hard or even particularly dangerous. It's been years since we were last summoned to confront a monster; did we kill them all? Or did they disappear along with the gods, remembered only in the songs and stories of the bards and minstrels? We go from village to village these days, teaching the farmers and merchants how to protect themselves from the bandits that still lurk in the dark corners of Greece. We spend our days on the road helping those in need, the poor and the old, the sick or hurt, the hopeless and abandoned.
Oh, there is still a skirmish or two, and Iolaus can still hold his own, although I am a little quicker now to come to his aid if the odds should be stacked against him. He endures this protectiveness patiently, with humor; he is a realist, after all, and knows his limitations.
Iolaus nudges me out of my reverie. He is hungry and I am neglecting my duties as cook. Sheepishly, I gather up the meager remains of our supplies and set to work. The last scraps of dried meat and vegetables go into a pot of melted snow along with a few herbs to make a thin soup. The last handful of ground meal moistened and spread on a heated pan will bake our last two pieces of unleavened bread. There is tea, plenty of it, but our fruit is gone. It will be a sparse meal, but I will see to it that Iolaus eats the most of it. An immortal may feel the pangs of hunger in his belly, but you cannot starve him to death.
For breakfast there will be only tea, but long before the sun reaches its zenith, we will be out of these hills and into the forests below. Iolaus will hunt as he always has, while I gather herbs, fruits and wild vegetables. He is still the finest hunter in Greece, his sight and hearing undiminished. We have never found a wasteland so complete that Iolaus cannot find us a meal.
As we clean up after our supper, I notice he is shivering. The temperature is dropping, and there is the scent of snow in the air. I bank the fire, adding enough wood to last a good part of the night and hastily pile the dry boughs in front of the hearth, covering them with one of our blankets. Wrapped in our dry, warm cloaks and covered with our second blanket we huddle together on this makeshift bed. Iolaus nestles into the hollow of my neck; I can feel his warm breath on my skin, his forehead against my cheek. It is cool, there is no fever and I relax. He wriggles until he is comfortable, his shivers gradually ceasing, his breathing deepening as he falls asleep. How does he do that, I wonder? I have been told that only the sinless sleep so quickly and soundly. This is probably true; Iolaus is the most honorable man I know and has the capacity to forgive himself his few minor transgressions, while I lie awake chastising myself endlessly for my failures and weaknesses, unable to right the wrongs I do in my ignorance, or even to avoid repeating them.
Tonight seems to be one of those nights. I feel that sleep is far away. As a demigod I could get by on very little, as an immortal demigod, I need even less. I lay awake watching the flames dance in the firelight, red, orange, yellow and blue. Frozen droplets of sap explode as the heat thaws them sending riotous displays of sparks up the chimney. Iolaus murmurs sleepily as I shift to a more comfortable position, I pull him closer, snuggling him in the crook of my arm, his breathing is even and I hear no telltale rattle from his throat.
The wind is growing fiercer; it howls from the mountaintops like a lost soul from Tartarus and I shiver. I look up at the gaps in the roof, we are as close to the fire as we dare get, and over our heads the thatch seems solid enough. As modest as our shelter is, we are inside, warm, and out of the way of the coming storm. I sigh and wish for sleep, but all I find are my memories.
Zeus sent Aphrodite with a message that he wished to see me. A polite, carefully worded request, not an order, for he knew that if he demanded my presence, I would very likely refuse to come. Of course, I immediately rejected the idea of going anyway. It was harvest time and Iolaus and I were on our way to a festival in Tyrens, where we planned to spend a few days lodged at one of our favorite inns. But there was an urgency in Dite's eyes that I could not ignore, so I reluctantly agreed. She offered me transport, but I refused it; if I must go to Olympus, I would do it in my own time and in my own way.
"Okay, bro" she said, frowning, "but don't be long."
"What's the hurry?"
"You'll see."
I knew things were not well with the gods. Their temples often sat empty with very few people coming to worship or bring offerings. But still, the gods were the gods and had all the time in the world, or so I thought. In all likelihood, Zeus merely wanted a favor from me. It was a bit odd, though, usually he sought me out, knowing that a summons from Olympus would just irritate me.
My plan was that I would accompany Iolaus to Tyrens where he would wait while I made the trip to Olympus alone. At least, that was my plan. His plan was to travel to Olympus with me, but since he would not be allowed to climb the sacred mountain, he would have to camp at the base until I had finished my business. But the north of Thessaly was a wild and dangerous place, and I begged him to stay in Tyrens, enjoy the festival, and I would be back before he had a chance to miss me. He finally agreed, half-heartedly, only to spare me the worry, I knew.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon as we trudged through the gate at Tyrens, too late in the day to think of beginning another journey and that was fine with me. Spending the night there, with Iolaus, in one of Chiale's cozy rooms, was preferable by far to camping alone along the road.
Chiale, our hostess, was happy to see us. We had come to her aid years ago, when her brother-in-law had tried to seize the inn her late husband had left her. Now, there was always a room for us when we visited this city, and when I took her aside for a private word, she cheerfully promised to look after Iolaus in my absence.
We dined on her wonderful roast quail, warm bread, dates and nuts; the wine was plentiful and delicious, and we were both feeling delightfully sleepy when we finally went off to bed. But in the middle of the night I awoke to find him curled against my side. I knew he was awake; I could feel the tension in him, and it was a long, long time before I felt his body relax into sleep.
At dawn, I slipped carefully from beneath my blanket, and moved about the room quietly not wanting to rouse him, but when I looked up from packing, he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, regarding me with a troubled face. I laced up the fastenings on my carrysack and sat down beside him. "Don't look so glum." I said teasingly, tugging at the curls that tumbled over his forehead. "Find a pretty girl at the festival to pass the time, and I'll be back before you know it."
He gave me a small smile, but his eyes were clouded. "I wish you would let me go with you," he said.
I shook my head at him; then looked him sternly in the eye. "Promise me that you won't follow me."
"I won't, I promise," he sighed, "but you be careful, and if�" He stopped and it didn't seem as if he were planning to finish his sentence.
"�and if?" I prodded.
He shook his head. "Nothing, just me being silly. Well," he laughed shakily, "the sooner you leave, the sooner you'll get back. You wouldn't want to miss all of the festival."
"Right." He seemed so upset by my going and I couldn't understand why.
I glanced back at the inn as I crossed the silent square, wet with early morning dew, and headed toward the city gates. He was standing on the balcony watching me, wrapped against the chill in his blue cloak. I waved; he waved back, a sad little wave. Goodbye.
Alone on the road, I could unleash my semi-divine speed, and although it wasn't quite what it used to be, the three-day journey to Olympus was accomplished in two. It was upon arriving at the foot of the mountain just after dawn that I got my first inkling of just how terribly wrong things had gone. The white mists that obscured the playground of the gods from the prying eyes of men were gray, long tendrils of the stuff drifting down the slopes like the fingers of an unformed monstrosity reaching to ensnare passers-by.
My climb was steady and uneventful, although I stumbled occasionally over hidden obstacles when the mists clouded my vision. As I neared the summit I was astounded at the sight of Zeus' once glorious palace. The snowy-white marble had dulled and the whole edifice shimmered in the heavy mist like a mirage on the desert sands, its outlines indistinct, nebulous, as if the whole structure were fading before my eyes.
In the great hall, Zeus was slouched dejectedly against the arm of his throne, his head propped in one hand. The mists had drifted inside, and Zeus looked as if he were fading along with his magnificent palace. Hera was sitting at his side and I stiffened, alert to danger, but she merely regarded me indifferently as if trying to recall where she had seen me before, but not really caring.
Zeus looked up as I enter and a spark of animation lit his flaccid face as he beckoned me closer. Keeping one eye on Hera, I walked warily across the floor, and when I stood before him, he asked her to leave. Shrugging, uncaring, Hera simply rose in one fluid movement, and floated out of the room, disappearing into her misty garden. I could see it dimly through the haze from where I stood; there was nothing green growing there and all her flowers were dead.
I looked at my father questioningly and he smiled at me. "You are growing old," he said, gesturing at my hair and the streaks of gray that were plain to see.
"It seems," I answered, "that so are you."
He sighed. "I thought this day would never come. That we would go on forever, that the race of man would never turn away from us."
I felt a cold clutch of fear. "Then the gods are dying?" I asked, looking about. Olympus had look and smell of death about it.
"No," Zeus smiled regretfully, "we are not given that honor. We will simply not be part of the living world until that day, should it ever come, when man shall call on us again, to beseech us to act on their behalf." I stared at him dumbfounded as he continued. "Perhaps, they shall never call. We have not been the best of guardians; we have abused our privileges and neglected our responsibilities. Now we shall pay the price."
He talked for hours in that misty hall, while I sat at his feet on the dais. The only other seat was Hera's throne and I would not sit there. He told me the secrets of the gods, the stories and legends of times long past, before men were created to live on the earth. I heard the legends of Chronos, of Gaia, of Nyx and Eros and Aphrodite, and the Titans; all those whose myths had been passed on down to him. I sat silently, listening, sad beyond measure, that this father that I had both loved and hated would soon be gone from my life. Because, I was certain, that was why he had asked me to come; why he was telling me things that he had never spoken of before. This may be the last time we would ever meet.
Finally, he stopped and looked at me, his eyes sad. My heart was so full of the things I wanted to say, things I should say; sorry seemed so inadequate, I love you, so false. He seemed to understand my dilemma and looked at me with the love I had always known he felt for me shining in his eyes. Even when he had manipulated me, betrayed me, I also knew that in his own way he loved me. "Is there any thing you would like to ask me, son?" he inquired quietly. "Anything you would like to know before we part?"
I could have asked, as I have asked many times before "Why?" Why had the gods allowed such terrible things to occur, but I already knew the answer; because it was not in the nature of the gods to intervene in the calamities of mankind, even when they were responsible for them. Now they were paying dearly for their indifference. Let them be a lesson to the gods that come after.
But I thought of one thing I had never asked. "Remember when you turned back time to save Iolaus after he was killed by the Amazons?" He nodded. "Why did you do it?"
Zeus laughed. "Because you asked it. Because I could. And I tell you, I spent decades cleaning up the mess I made."
I laughed too, but more ruefully than he. It was not the first time I had considered that other lives may had been lost or thrown into disarray because of my request, but I was ashamed to say I did not regret it. I guess it's the god in me.
Zeus leaned forward in his chair "You could stay with us," he said, his voice low.
"What?" I looked at him, stunned; it was the last thing I had expected him to say. I truly believed that he had summoned me to say goodbye. I wondered then if I was about to be manipulated again.
"You could stay," he repeated and his tone was flat, emotionless. He knew I would not willingly share his exile. "After we are gone, they will be no godhood for you, you will simply die and go to the Elysian Fields."
"Fine," I said bluntly, meaning it. It was fine, an eternity in the Fields with the ones I loved best. Suddenly the cause of Iolaus' fears became very clear to me. Did he suspect that Zeus had again sent for me to join him? Did he truly believe that I would willingly leave him?
But Zeus was appalled by the idea of my death. Funny that. The gods that dealt death to mortals with no compunction, no remorse, were terrified of the idea for themselves. "There is another way," he said.
I sat quietly with my arms folded across my chest and waited. He would get to the point soon enough.
"Immortality," he said finally, understanding that I was not going to ask. "To return to the prime of your life and live forever."
Immortality, not a god, a mortal who cannot die. Not without someone going to a great deal of trouble, anyway. I thought about it, walking the earth, forever young, forever alone. "No."
Zeus looked down at his golden sandals; what did a deposed god need of such fine footwear. "It's because of Iolaus, isn't it?"
"I won't leave him." I thought of Iolaus, waiting for me in Tyrens. How long would he wait for a friend who would not return, I wondered, if I could have been persuaded to remain on Olympus? I shook away that thought.
"I can fix it," Zeus was saying. "I can fix it so that he can join you as an immortal."
"How?" I asked, skeptical. Zeus had lied to me so many times before. "You will not be here and I will not have that power."
"Aphrodite can do it, if I give her the power and you the means."
He sounded like he meant it, but it was a lot to take in all at once, and I was silent for a long time. Zeus looked at me again, this time with a new urgency in his eyes. His form was flickering before me and I knew that my time was running out. I would have to choose, and choose quickly. If only I could have asked Iolaus what he wanted.
"How?" I repeated.
Zeus arose from his throne, descended to the foot of the dais and crossed the room to a table that rested against the wall. From it he picked up two objects, returned to sit by my side on the steps, and held them up for me to see, two green vials of heavy glass, identical except that one was secured to a long chain. He held out the one without the chain. "This is for you," he told me. "This will enable me to make you immortal. And this one," he held the other in front of my face. "This you must give to Iolaus. Mind you, he must drink it before he dies. It will remain in his body until it is needed, either after his death, or if he should choose to join you as an immortal before then."
I studied the carefully prepared vials and then frowned at him. The old fox; he had had this all planned from the start, knowing perfectly well that I would refuse to join the gods in their exile.
The emerald green bottle on its chain dangled before my eyes, gleaming in the dim light. A small insignificant piece of glass that held the key to eternal life for the man I would wish to live forever. But I could think of so many things that might go wrong. "What if I am not with him when he dies? How much time do I have to get him to Aphrodite? And if his body should be destroyed?" Gods, there were so many reasons why I should not do this.
"You will have a month from the day of his death before his life force is completely extinguished. Enough time to make the journey to Cyprus. Should his body be destroyed, anything that is a part of Iolaus should work just as well. A lock of his hair, for instance." Zeus gave me the sidelong glance that warned me he was not being completely candid about this last bit. He stood up and I rose with him. The whole palace was flickering like a candle guttering in the wind. "Now choose, Hercules. Your time is up."
Immortality is an awesome thing, eternity a concept too huge to grasp. What to do? And what if I chose the wrong thing? But the thought of Iolaus, now graying and growing old, returned to the vigor of his youth, never to die again, was too irresistible.
"Yes," I gasped feeling that I was betraying Iolaus. But "No" felt like betrayal, too.
I leaned forward as Zeus looped the chain over my head and tucked the precious vial under my jerkin for safekeeping.
"Drink," he ordered, unstoppering the second vial and holding it out to me, "when you awaken, I will be gone and you will be immortal."
I stared at him, suddenly stricken with a grief I couldn't explain. This was goodbye then. I folded him into my arms for the first and last time. He stiffened and then leaned against me for a brief moment before pulling away, and pressed the vial into my hand.
I swallowed the elixir quickly before I could change my mind. It was bitter and burned my throat, but in a heartbeat the world grew dim, the flickering palace churning around and around, disorienting me so that I could not tell if I were falling or floating. I felt Zeus' hands clasping mine, and the fire that leapt from his fingers traveled up my arms, flowing into my head and my chest. There was a stab of pure pain as it passed through my heart and then nothing.
I awoke alone to darkness. But it was the real darkness of night on a barren mountaintop; the mists were gone along with the palaces of the gods; the clear sky was spangled with stars and the moon was just peering over the eastern horizon. I sensed that the night was well advanced and that the dawn was not far off.
"Ahem."
Instantly, I rolled to a sitting position, not even noticing at the moment how quickly and easily I did this. It seemed that I was not alone on Olympus after all. Not far from where I sat, Aphrodite was perched on what appeared to be a large wicker basket and when she saw that I was awake she smiled brightly.
"Welcome back, little bro. Feel any different?"
"No, I�Uh, yeah." I patted myself all over, my legs, my arms felt firmer, more muscular, stronger, my belly was flatter and my chest felt broader. My face was smooth, the skin more supple and my hair as thick and full as it was when I was a boy. I drew in a huge lungful of the sweet night air. Gods, it felt as if I could inhale forever.
"Cool, huh?" Aphrodite giggled at the astonished look on my face.
"That's one way of putting it." I rose to my feet, reveling in the increased freedom of movement and stretched my arms and legs, rolling my head around on my shoulders. Every part of my body felt loose and flexible.
Aphrodite got up, too, and reached down to pull her basket close to her. "Well, now that I know you're a-okay, I'll be toodling along."
Really looking at her for the first time, I noticed that she was dressed differently. Gone was the trademark diaphanous pink gown, and in its place she was wearing a light pink tunic with full billowy sleeves and a pair of baggy pink trousers. A sleeveless burgundy vest reaching exactly to the edge of the tunic, a pair of very high-heeled shoes, also burgundy, and a tiny hat of the same color perched atop her mass of golden curls completed her ensemble.
"Like it?" she chirped catching my admiring look and pirouetting for my benefit. "It's brand new. My traveling outfit."
"Very fetching," I told her, "but why do you need a traveling outfit? You can be in Cyprus in the blink of an eye."
"I know that," she tsked at me as if I were a backward child. "But it's really important to make a good first impression. You and Iolaus might remember that, running around the countryside dressed like ragpickers' children."
I started to protest this rather unkind assessment, but she cut me off, that subject already forgotten, and her quicksilver mind off onto another. "Oh, dear! Sweetcheeks! I almost forgot." She let go of the wicker basket and ignored it as it toppled over spilling her belongings on the ground. I saw crumpled garments of silks and satins, pots and jars of cosmetics and scents, perfumes in elegant glass bottles, shoes, lacy stockings and silver belts, with bits of priceless jewelry carelessly thrown amongst the clutter.
Then she was standing before me and groping under my jerkin for the little green vial, making sure it was undamaged, and tucking it away again securely. "Now, keep this safe," she said in a scolding voice, frowning, obviously afraid that if I was not severely reminded of my responsibility, I would shirk it. "Make sure Iolaus drinks it, the sooner the better, we don't want you losing it. And make sure you bring Iolaus to me within a month of his death. Not one hour later, you understand. Maybe it would be better if you brought him before he dies, just to be on the safe side. Make sure your ship isn't some leaky old tub, I don't know how we would do this if it should sink on the way. What with Poseidon retired and�"
"Aphrodite." I said, resisting the urge to clap a hand over her mouth. "I will take care of it. Trust me."
"Well, of course, you will," she giggled sunnily, in one of those lightning shifts of mood that never failed to disconcert me, "this is Sweetcheeks, after all, and you'd never let him down."
"Zeus told me he would give you the power�?" I asked tentatively, needing the reassurance that everything would go as he had promised.
"And so he did." She patted her bosom. "Iolaus' very own little fireball. All safely tucked away until it's needed."
"You won't�er�lose it?" Twilight of the gods or not, this was my scatterbrained sister I was talking to, after all.
That sent Dite off on a fresh spate of giggles. "Hercola, you are soooo sweet. I'm really going to miss you and Curly." She stood on her tiptoes, reaching up to kiss my cheek. "Say good bye to him for me and tell him that I hope to see him soon. Oh no, no. Don't say that! Tell him I'll see him�whenever."
She bent down to her basket and scooped the spilled contents back into it in one untidy heap, fastening the clasp before she straightened up again. She was still smiling, but her smile was a bit strained and I realized for the first time how hard this was for her, too. She would have already made her painful goodbyes to Hephaestus. For thousands of years she had had a family of sorts, and now she was a solitary goddess again. Going off gamely into the great unknown with a big, bright smile plastered on her face. She waved and her wave reminded me of Iolaus' sad little goodbye wave. Suddenly, I wanted to get back to Tyrens, to Iolaus, as quickly as I could.
"Well, bro, see you in a few. Toodles." There was only the slightest quaver in her voice, a slight dampening of her brilliant smile, and she was gone.
Aphrodite's departure took with it the only familiar and warm thing on this lonely mountain. I looked around, but there was nothing to see. Just an ordinary bare mountaintop. The sun had just peeked over the horizon to lighten the eastern slope, and I started my descent there. It would make the journey back to Tyrens a bit longer, but the way was easier and I would quickly make up the lost time.
Once on the level ground, I passed up the road that would have lengthened my journey, and cut through the forest on a straight line toward Tyrens. As my body became used to its newly-returned energy, I picked up my pace, stretching muscles that I had thought would never stretch again. My legs felt young and resilient and I ran faster and faster, pumping my arms to get the blood flowing, throwing back my head so that the wind could blow through my hair. I soared over fallen trees, boulders, leapt the woodland streams without breaking my stride. I felt as if I could run forever. I was strong, indestructible, an immortal demigod, full of the glory of my ancestry and the power of my youth. I whooped for the sheer joy of living, startling an elderly woodsman, as I rushed madly through his cutting.
When I reached the main road to Tyrens just after dusk, I slowed down so as not to arrive at the city before the gates were opened at dawn, but I wanted to see Iolaus, to hear the sound of his voice, his soft laughter scolding me, to share my foolish happiness with him, and most importantly, to give him the little bottle that held his gift of everlasting life.
Arriving at the city gates shortly before dawn, I settled on one of the seats set along the outside wall to wait for the guards to come. Two of the other benches were occupied by sleeping men snoring loudly, with the smell of strong liquor about them. Smiling, I watched them shifting uncomfortably in their slumbers on the hard benches. No derelicts, these, likely merchants out carousing past hours the night before and no doubt soon facing furiously angry wives.
Now that I had the time to think about my actions, I wondered if I had made the wise choice. I was not at all sure that Iolaus would wish to live forever, parted for all time from those who awaited him in the Elysian Fields, wandering the face of the earth, watching generation after generation die away while he lived on with only me for company. Put like that it seemed a very grim existence.
Chiale was bustling about the common room setting the breakfast tables for her guests as I walked through the door, and she turned ready to greet me; then stopped, staring at me, open-mouthed.
"Have I changed so much, Chiale?" I asked.
She didn't seem to know quite what to say, so I patted her arm and told her that I would explain later. Was it my imagination or did she flinch slightly when I touched her?
I ran up the stairs and quietly opened the door to Iolaus and my room. If he were asleep I would not awaken him; I would leave and return later. But he was up and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots. His face lit up when he saw me, and he started to rise, but I had already crossed the room and, eagerly caught him up in a fierce hug, startling him and causing us both to tumble back onto the bed. Giggling, he pulled back a little, and looked at me, puzzled; usually I was not so exuberant or openly affectionate, being reserved and unsure of myself, liking the play and the comfort of the physical contact, but waiting for him to take the initiative.
Then his face changed, his smile fading. He touched my bicep, feeling its firmness and then rubbed his fingers along the smooth contours of my face. He pulled a long strand of my hair, no longer streaked with gray, through his fingers, and looked at it wonderingly.
"You're a god," he said, his tone uncertain. "Zeus has made you a god. But�"
"Not a god, Iolaus." I told him quietly. "An immortal."
He looked at me bewildered for a long moment and the joy went out of his face completely as he realized what I was saying�what it meant.
"Iolaus, I�" I began, but he was already out the door. Damn, he could still move like a cat on a hot stove. "Iolaus!" I called, but he did not answer. When I got to the hall he was already downstairs and when I got to the common room, he was gone.
"Where did he go?" I asked Chiale, but she shrugged and looked away uneasily. "Chiale, look at me." She did so, reluctantly, as I tried to explain. "My father�Zeus�has made me immortal. That's the changes you see. I am still me." I looked at her pleadingly; Chiale had been our friend and trusted confidante for many years, a kind, accepting woman who in many ways had taken on the role of my lost mother. If I could not convince her, how would I ever convince Iolaus?
"And what of Iolaus?" she asked.
"Do you think I would deliberately do anything to hurt him? Please, Chiale, I need to talk to him. To explain."
Sighing heavily, she relented. "Alright. I saw him through the window heading toward the river."
It took a the better part of hour of searching before I found him, sitting on the riverbank his back against a tree, idly tossing pebbles into the stream. He didn't look up as I lowered myself to the ground beside him, and I watched him silently for a while.
"I'm sorry, Iolaus." I said finally.
For a moment, I was afraid he wasn't going to speak, but then he sighed and looked up at me. "No, I'm the one who should apologize, Herc. I'm happy for you, really, I just thought�" His voice trailed off and he looked down again at the water.
"Iolaus." I hesitated, dreading telling him what I had done, of the choice I would be forcing him to make, and not having the words to tell him that it was only because I wished to be with him forever and that I never wanted to have to see him die again. "Iolaus," I began again. "I didn't do this just for myself."
"I know, Herc." He said softly. "You will live forever, and think of how much good you will be able to do. Just like you've always done. But�we talked about your becoming a god some day and me�" he stumbled a little, trying to find the right words, "uh�I just wondered�now that that's not possible and all�what will happen me�I mean to people like me who die� is there still an Elysian Fields to go to, or�uh�what?"
"Yeah, Charon will always be there to ferry the souls of believers across the Styx and Hades will still send them off to their proper places; it is their only job, now." I smiled a little. "Hades should be happy; plenty of time to catch up on his paper work."
But Iolaus did not share my smile. "Only souls? I guess that lets out immortal demigods."
I nodded and Iolaus fell silent, tossing pebbles one by one into the river. I watched the ripples flatten as they grew and then disappeared forever into the current. There was nothing left, but for me to come right out with it. I had the feeling Iolaus was going to be really mad at me.
I cleared my throat and began once more. "As I said, I didn't do this just for myself."
"Yeah, I know, Herc," he said softly, "and it's okay. If anyone should live forever, it's you. People need you and�"
"No, that's not what I meant."
"Then what?" He looked at me curiously. I was silent so he prodded me gently. "Tell me. The whole thing from the beginning."
That's so like Iolaus, sensing my difficulty and trying to make it easy for me. I drew a deep breath and started from the beginning, leaving out nothing, right up to the point where Dite left me alone on Olympus. Iolaus listened without interrupting, until I stopped talking and stared into the water, waiting.
A few more pebbles plopped into the stream and then they stopped. When I risked a glance at Iolaus, he was looking at me, his face a blend of sympathy, exasperation and anger. "It sounds like Zeus didn't give you much of a choice." His voice was hard; yeah, he was angry. "Death or immortality, choose one, I'll give you a minute. What made you choose immortality, Herc?" He was looking at me, wanting to understand.
Immortality. Mankind's dream from the beginning of time. To find the secret of everlasting life. But not for Iolaus. He had been to the Other Side so many times and had seen so many wonderful things, death held no terror for him.
I lower my head, ashamed of the selfishness that had directed my choice "It was just�it was just�" I stammered, my excuses seemed weak and self-serving. "I just couldn't see you die�again."
"That's not what I meant." Iolaus said impatiently. "I would have been perfectly happy to live out my life and then hang out in the Fields forever, and I know you know that. But it's my choice, to drink Zeus' potion or not. I mean, what made you choose it for yourself?"
I looked at him blankly. I had no answer. Could it be that what he was hinting was the truth; that I did this because somewhere deep inside I wanted it for myself? To never die? It was a new thought and made me feel even worse. I only knew that I wanted to spend my eternity with Iolaus, wherever that might be. Had I thought that he would simply follow me as he had all of my life wherever I took him, regardless of the consequences?
We both remained locked in our own thoughts for a long time. Two young boys, one tall, one shorter, both blonde, and carrying fishing poles, appeared at the edge of the stream. They looked at us curiously, a little apprehensively even; then seemed to decide we were harmless enough and settled down by the side of the river. With much giggling and good-natured bantering, they baited their hooks and cast them in the water. For a moment I thought I might be hallucinating, as if I were seeing our young selves, a transitory vision from the past, and should I blink, these two impossibly familiar boys would disappear. But a quick glance to the side assured me that Iolaus saw them too, and that they were quite real.
Finally, Iolaus rubbed the back of his neck, that endearing gesture that was so uniquely his. "Well, where is it?"
"What?" I asked confused.
"My immortality in a bottle. Where is it?"
"Oh," I pulled the little vial out from under my jerkin. "Here."
He laughed. "Just like that. I drink it and I'm superman. Herc and Iolaus, heroes forever."
"Something like that." I answered, trying to match his mood; if only I were sure what it was. "Only you need Aphrodite's little fireball to make it work."
"Which she has all tucked away in her lovely bosom, waiting for me to die. Right?"
"Right." I replied, wincing.
"Um, kinky. And no do-overs?"
"Guess not. It's hard to kill an immortal."
"So," Iolaus asked conversationally, "if you did want to kill an immortal, how would you go about it?"
"Hmm. You'd have to destroy the body completely, or remove the head. That's the only part that won't �er�regrow if it's lost."
"Well, that's a relief. And what happens to dead immortals?"
"I don't know." I pondered this; one of the things I should have thought to ask Zeus. A good reason why Iolaus should have been invited along, he wouldn't have forgotten to ask. "I guess they'd go to whatever afterlife they belong to. That would make sense, wouldn't it?"
"I guess. Maybe Dite would know. We'll have to ask her sometime."
"Does that mean you're going to�?" I asked, hope blooming in my heart.
Iolaus sighed. "I'm not making any promises. I will drink this stuff on one condition. That if later I change my mind, you will not take me to Dite to finish the job. Just let me go."
I swallowed hard. That might be a hard promise to keep. But I loved Iolaus, and I could never force this on him if he didn't wish it. Not even if it meant I would spend eternity alone. "I promise."
He nodded, satisfied, and reached out for the bottle. I pulled the chain over my head, passed it to him, watching anxiously as he pulled off the little stopper He sniffed at it, wrinkling his nose. Then he gave me a cocky grin, put the bottle to his lips, upended it quickly and made a face.
The aftereffect hit him immediately; I expected him to pass out momentarily, but he just shook his head as if to clear it, and put one hand down on the ground to steady himself. But it only lasted a few seconds and he recovered quickly. "Gods, that was worse than your medicine."
My heart was too full to speak. I knew this was not what he wanted; that he was doing it for me and only for me. The truth was, I was afraid to speak. He had given me a gift from his heart and any clumsy thing I might have said could spoil it. I could only accept it humbly, with gratitude, and pray that I would never do anything that might cause him to regret it.
We went back to the inn where Chiale, who, apparently, had come to terms with my new state, greeted us with relief and served us a huge breakfast of sausages, eggs and battercakes. We spent the rest of the day at the festival, enjoying the food, the games, the sideshows, and all the delightful sights, sounds and smells of a city celebrating a bountiful harvest. Iolaus seemed to have no more effects from drinking the elixir, and the subject of immortality was not discussed again. Outwardly, he was relaxed and cheerful, but I knew there must be feelings roiling below the surface, emotions that he was not ready to deal with. Not now, when they were so confused and unformed. But some day the enormity of what I had done, the magnitude of my selfish act will hit him full force and there will be a reckoning to pay, I am sure.
I lay awake that night long after Iolaus had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling by the light of the fire, thinking. I glanced over at Iolaus. He was lying curled on his side, totally at peace, his hair, still more gold than gray falling in disarray around his neck. I reached for my belt and slid my knife from its sheath, and grasping one wayward curl, I sliced it off quickly, amazed that I did it without waking him. I was probably the only one in the world who could. His faith in me to keep him safe was absolute, as was my trust in him.
The little sewing kit that my mother gave me at the beginning of my traveling days was in my pack lying beside the bed. In all these long years I had never lost it and it should be a safe place to carry the precious lock of Iolaus' hair. I wrapped the silky curl snugly in one of the patches I kept to repair Iolaus' vest when necessary, and tucked it safely at the bottom of the kit. Now I had that bit of insurance I might need if Iolaus should ever become completely lost to me. Not that I was putting any faith into that method; Zeus' behavior made it clear that it was an untested procedure. Still it brought me a small measure of relief from my worries. I lay on my back, arms folded behind my head for the rest of the night, wide awake, hoping that Zeus had not betrayed me once again.
To Part Two
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