"I'll try to be back before dark," Hercules had said. He had made it – just. The demi-god's absence had given Iolaus the opportunity to enjoy the afternoon, relaxing in a well-kept tavern with several tankards of good ale (And good company, he reminded himself, remembering the lass who had served him most of those tankards. She had made it clear that if he planned to stay he was unlikely to sleep alone). He should have known then that the fun would soon be over: they never got to take a break.
As soon as Hercules returned Iolaus had known there was trouble. There were no smiles, no jokes from his demi-god friend, just a grim silence that – to Iolaus – felt distressingly familiar. He remembered Herc's flippant comment about Hera and Ares and wondered which of them had been waiting for him. For the first hour, Hercules wouldn't even talk about it: he said he needed time to think and refused to elaborate beyond that. Nothing was more likely to worry Iolaus. When Herc shut him out it was usually serious. Eventually, the two men sat outside the tavern, their only light coming from the window behind them, and Hercules told Iolaus everything.
"Are you sure about this, Herc?" Iolaus asked hesitantly. Gods, he could almost wish he had let Hercules leave him behind: this was a little too much to take in all at once. First Hercules would rather visit an old girlfriend than help stop a monster that had already killed seven people. Then he showed up wearing an amulet of Hecate – and whatever Hercules said about Hera's sister, that pendant made Iolaus uneasy – and now this. Iolaus just wasn't sure what to make of it all.
"I mean," he continued, "it's not all that long since Nemesis – "
" – Lied to me about Evander, I know." Hercules gave Iolaus a very direct look. "Two things. First, Dione didn't tell me. She showed me. Take my word for it: you can't lie that way. Alani is my daughter. Second: that's not the issue here. Get this through your head. An innocent woman was raped and murdered. The bastards who did it forced a fourteen-year-old girl to watch, then they took her with them. They plan to sell her into slavery. I plan to stop them. Now, if you have a problem with that..."
Iolaus was shaking his head vigorously. "Gods, no. No problem with that at all." He had never heard Herc sound so angry. "But...oh, gods...you're going to hate me for saying this..."
"Spit it out."
"Well...Alani isn't the only one who needs your help right now, Herc. What about these people? They didn't send those hunters. They didn't hurt anyone. But they're the ones suffering for it."
Hercules was mildly surprised by Iolaus' words: he hadn't thought his friend had made the connection. He nodded sadly. "I know. That's the only reason we're still here. If the creature we've been hearing about is Hecate's Chimera...there is nothing I can do. Alani is the only one who can stop it. If it's not, we can take care of it first."
Iolaus could hardly believe what he'd just heard. "Nothing you can do? It'll take us – what? – at least two days to find this girl. How many more people will die in the meantime?"
They were almost exactly the same words he had thrown at Hecate. Knowing Iolaus was right was not making this any easier for Hercules. But right at that moment they were interrupted.
The scream of a man in pain.
Neither man hesitated: both leapt up, their argument forgotten. They ran toward the sound. There was a burning torch lying in the road. By its light, they could see very little, just vague shapes. The sounds told the story. After that first scream, there was no sound from the man. They could both hear the snuffling sounds of a very large animal nearby.
Iolaus, always reckless, darted in and picked up the torch. Lifting it off the ground raised the light level, and suddenly the size of the creature became clear. Hercules caught the gleam of white tusks.
"What in Hades...?" Iolaus gasped.
Hercules already knew. "Damn you, Hecate! I can't just stand by and watch your pet kill."
Hercules hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud. But Iolaus heard him. The hunter caught sight of his friend's expression and drew his sword, ready to do battle.
"No, Iolaus!" Hercules pulled him back. "I have to do this alone. Promise me, if this doesn't work, you'll take this," – tapping the pendant on his chest – "and find my daughter."
Iolaus just stared at him for a moment, as if he hadn't understood. "What are you talking about, Herc? You've killed bigger monsters than this!"
"I can't kill it. Look, I've got an idea, but it might not work. Promise me!" There just wasn't time to discuss it.
Iolaus knew that. More scared than he wanted to admit by Hercules' suggestion he might not survive this battle, Iolaus reluctantly gave his promise. He watched as Hercules walked into the road to confront the creature. There was just enough light coming from the torch for Hercules to be able to see the man lying in the road. The Chimera stood over him, about to spear him on those sharp tusks. Hercules wrenched the creature's head away from its victim. Then he backed off a little way, hoping the creature would follow him. It seemed to work. Once, the Chimera looked back to the fallen man, then with a growl it turned and charged Hercules.
The instant the creature moved, Iolaus went to help the man. He was unconscious, and bleeding from a wound in his side, but he was alive. Iolaus carried the man out of the road, away from the battle.
"That's it. Well done! Bring him inside."
Iolaus hadn't been aware of having an audience until the woman spoke. Grateful for her aid, Iolaus did as she said, helping her to carry the wounded man into the tavern. He waited long enough to see that she knew how to treat the wound, then hurried out to rejoin Hercules. By then there were several people outside, summoned by the commotion, watching what little could be seen of Hercules' battle.
At least Herc was still alive. To Iolaus' eyes, he didn't seem to be doing so well, though. Iolaus had seen Hercules battle any number of monsters, and this looked different. He saw Hercules roll out of the way of another attack and stand to await the next. Then he realised. Hercules was not even trying to hurt it. He was just keeping the creature's attention, trying to tire it. It was a risky strategy. Hercules could have no way of knowing how long the Chimera could keep up this kind of pace. Herc could surely match it for strength, but what about stamina? There was no way to guess which of them would tire first. And if it was Hercules...
It seemed to take forever.
Hercules and the Chimera faced each other again, as they had done each time. Hercules was braced for the next charge, but it didn't come. He waited, catching his breath, his eyes never leaving the creature. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Was the Chimera as tired as he? It was impossible to be sure, but Hercules had to take the risk. Dione had always spoken of the creature as if it was intelligent. If it was – gods, that was the question – it had to realise that Hercules could have killed it by now. If it knew that, this might work.
Slowly, Hercules walked toward the creature. He extended his hands, palms up, a gesture of peace. Slowly, slowly. The Chimera hadn't moved. The sharp, musky smell of the creature assailed him as he got close to it. Closer... Swallowing his fear – any animal would sense that – Hercules reached out and touched the Chimera, placing his palm flat between its eyes, exactly as Dione had guided him to do all those years ago.
He almost cried out at the sudden shock of pain.
Hercules bit back his involuntary cry and controlled the impulse to jerk his hand away. Suddenly he understood. The Chimera still hadn't moved. It was watching him, wary, tense, but no longer angry, no longer on the attack. Hercules sank to his knees in front of the creature, reaching out with his other hand. This was easier, he was expecting the wave of pain this time. But the pain he felt was not an attack, and it was the agony of the creature's spirit, communicated through the touch.
"She understands," Hercules told the creature, his voice low and soothing. "She understands. You were hurt. You didn't fail. There was nothing you could do." He brought his hand down to the creature's snout, risking those deadly tusks. He wanted the creature to know his scent. "Do you remember me? Do you? I'm a friend, remember?" He felt the Chimera's breath on his skin. "She wouldn't want you to do this. Dione always thought of others before herself. What you're doing can't bring her back."
The Chimera shook its head and snorted.
Hercules stayed exactly where he was. "I know," he said, still in that soothing monotone. "I'm going to find her. But..." – gods, let this work – "...I cannot help Alani if you keep doing this." He could feel the creature shaking beneath his hands. "I know what you're feeling. But these people aren't the ones responsible. I can't let you kill them. Please. Go home. Then I can follow Alani. It's your choice. Yours."
For a tense moment there was silence. Hercules held his breath. Then he felt the Chimera relax. The creature almost seemed to shrink beneath his hands: it looked no different, but it felt smaller. With a final shake of its head the Chimera pulled away from Hercules, and trotted off in the direction of Calydon wood.
On the very edge of his vision, Hercules saw a brief sparkle of silver light. He turned toward it, but the flash had already faded.
"Exactly what do you think you're doing? I've told you before to leave my son alone."
Hecate kept her eyes on the battle before her. She had no need to turn around to identify the speaker. "Have you?" she answered indifferently. "My humble apology, great king, I must not have been listening." Her tone had become heavy with sarcasm. "Begone, old man, and leave me to my own way."
"Not when you involve my son," he said firmly.
Hecate's silver eyes flashed with anger. "Then I will leave." With a shimmer of silver light she vanished. She re-materialised in the darkened cavern that was her natural home. Her eyes flashed silver in the darkness and the cave was filled with a pearly light. A hidden corner of the underworld, Hecate's cavern was vast. In the centre of its uneven floor was a well full of water. She waved her hand over the water, a well-practised gesture, and the vision she wanted appeared on the surface. She saw Hercules talking to her Chimera and smiled to herself, pleased. The son of Zeus was more clever than she had thought. Even when she became aware of the other presence in her cavern she did not turn away from her pool.
"You like to have them in your debt, don't you?" Zeus said, moving closer, watching the vision over her shoulder. "Have you considered, Hecate, that if Hercules completes your task without calling on you for help, you will be the one who owes him?"
"It will be the first time in four hundred years. And perhaps a risk worth taking." Hecate ended the vision with a snap of her fingers, turned around and regarded the king of the gods thoughtfully. "You fear that outcome, do you not? I have the power to grant what you denied. Where would his respect for you be then?"
"That's something that died years ago." The old god's voice was quiet.
"You never understood what the goddesses know. Their mortality is a gift, not a failing. In your determination to protect your son's immortality, you – "
"Enough!"
Hecate's smile was one of victory. "The truth hurts, of course. Give Hera my regards." It was a dismissal.
"One hundred dinars."
The hunter laughed: a sound that held no merriment at all. "Krassis! I thought you were a serious businessman."
"I am. One hundred dinars." The man called Krassis slowly walked around the girl, sharp eyes noting every detail: her torn tunic, her matted hair, her tear-streaked face slightly bruised. "She doesn't look worth a hundred. I'm being generous."
"You're joking," the hunter insisted. "She's worth a thousand. All she needs is a bath and a few days rest. Come on, Krassis. She's undamaged goods."
The slaver's eyebrows rose at that. "Entirely undamaged?"
"Guaranteed."
Krassis lifted Alani's chin and looked into her eyes. She returned his stare with a look of defiance. He turned her head to one side, then the other. He made her open her mouth and took a look at her teeth. Releasing her, he half turned as if to walk away. With a sudden movement, he spun round, lashing out with one hand, which caught her on the side of her head, throwing her to the ground.
Alani hit the ground in a dazed heap, rolled and pushed herself up to her knees, shaking her head to clear it. Above her head she heard, "Two hundred dinars. She will have to be trained."
"You jest. Three hundred."
"Two hundred and twenty. My final offer. Unless you can supply ownership papers?"
The hunter grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and Alani felt herself dragged roughly to her feet. Krassis gestured to someone behind her and she felt a firm hand on her arm.
"Clean her up. Prepare her. I'll send for her tonight."
"This is it," Hercules announced. "The place Hecate showed me." He was more than a little relieved. Hercules had known that to catch up with Alani's abductors they would have to risk taking a different route: their only advantage was knowing the hunters' destination. Taking a short cut, however, meant they couldn't be certain they were on the right track. Finding the campsite meant Hercules had made the right decision.
"Are you sure, Herc?"
"You're the hunter. You tell me." It hardly required a woodsman's skills to know that this clearing had been a campsite recently: trampled earth and the ashes of a campfire told their own story. Yes, he was sure.
Hercules watched as Iolaus rose to his challenge, casting an experienced eye over the ground. "Three of them," he said eventually. "And a prisoner. Alani?"
Hercules nodded.
There were scratches on the bark of the tree where Alani had been tied. Iolaus walked over to the tree, careful not to disturb the tracks he was looking for. He bent down and picked something up, commenting, "One of them has a bow."
It was an "old hunters' trick" that Hercules greatly admired. He was observant enough himself: he could read a trail in a forest with reasonable accuracy. But Iolaus could tell you how many horses there were in single-file tracks, and no matter how many times Iolaus explained what he was seeing, Hercules had never been able to pick up the trick.
"If it makes you feel any better," Iolaus said eventually, "I can't see any signs of a fight. Or..."
Or rape. Hercules heard the unspoken word. "Which way?" he asked.
Iolaus pointed. "Tracks of four. So she's walking, or she was when they left here. She's OK, Herc."
Hercules remembered the scene Hecate had made him witness and wished he could share Iolaus' confidence. That filthy swine playing with his daughter's body...there was more than one form of rape. "Let's go," Hercules urged grimly.
Alani had no volition, no control over anything that happened to her. There seemed little point in trying to resist: she was miles away from Calydon, and that forest was the only world she knew. This world was alien, its people monsters. The deepest pit of Tartarus would have been a welcome alternative.
She had allowed Krassis' people to bathe her body, to clean and dress her cuts and bruises. They seemed to have as little will as she: blank-faced women who moved her aching limbs with gentle hands but said no words, made no sound. Alani, too, had been silent. No one had even asked her name. They had taken her torn, filthy tunic (her last link to home) and dressed her as Krassis desired. The gown they gave her was pale blue, a floating, translucent material that covered her breasts – just – but left her midriff exposed. The lower half of her body was covered, but hardly concealed. Alani had never learned modesty or shame: she was raised in a world without contact with men and such concepts had been irrelevant. Even so, she was quick to recognise the purpose of the way she had been dressed, and her introduction to male sexuality had been a violent one. She was afraid.
The dress was just the beginning. Her hair had been washed and perfumed (beneath the grime it was a rich shade of brown, with sun-bleached highlights and a tendency to curl), and styled into a braided coil on top of her head. Another woman painted her face: adding colour to her eyes and lips. Then she was left alone.
Alani prayed silently and desperately to her goddess for deliverance. She felt no response. The act of praying had calmed her, a little. Closing her eyes she began to visualise her circle of protection. It had worked for her on the journey, perhaps it would work for her now. The circle built up slowly. Twice the sounds around her disturbed Alani's concentration and she had to begin again. Finally, she placed the last of the seals around her blue-white sphere and began to relax. With the circle in place, it didn't take as much concentration to maintain it.
When the woman came for her she was ready, she thought, to face anything. Alani followed the woman from the small tent to a larger pavilion. When she realised it was night, she searched the sky for the moon: Hecate's moon. All she could see were stars: the night sky was cold. No moon. No comfort. Alani felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them back. Had Hecate abandoned her?
Krassis' pavilion was the largest tent in the camp. It was lit from within by torchlight and candles. Inside, there was some smoke, mingled with the unfamiliar scents of perfumes, wine and cooked food. The walls were hung with silks in rich colours: reds and blues and purples. The ground was strewn with cushions, where two men reclined, a tray of food between them. One of the men was Krassis, the other a stranger. There were others in the pavilion: women, dressed much as Alani was. They moved slowly, unsmiling, as commanded.
Krassis got to his feet as Alani entered. A wide grin appeared on his bearded face. "How d'you like my latest acquisition, then?" he asked the other man. His voice was loud, jolly. He was slightly drunk. Krassis approached Alani, grasping her by the shoulders. "Scrubs up nicely, doesn't she?" He ran his big hands over her body, squeezing one of her tits in passing. "You'll do," he decided.
Alani endured his touch without flinching, but inside she was trembling. What if he...?
Krassis laughed coarsely. With a wave of his hand he dismissed her, returning to his guest.
Alani almost wept with relief. One of the other women handed her a jug of wine, directing her to stand near the two men, refilling their cups as needed. It was a simple enough task and Alani was able to concentrate on maintaining her visualised circle. It made her, not literally invisible, but unlikely to be noticed. She listened, not really understanding, to the conversation of the men: they talked of people and places and plans.
Time passed slowly. Every time one of the men looked at her, she was afraid. Every laugh, every movement seemed to be directed at her. Then Krassis called for someone else. Suddenly the atmosphere in the pavilion changed. Alani, sensitive to the emotions of those around her, sensed some apprehension from the other women, while Krassis and his companion seemed...eager, somehow.
Someone new entered the pavilion: a woman, or rather, a girl: she did not seem much older than Alani. She wore red, with her hair loose about her shoulders and a great deal of jewellery: at her wrists and ankles, a band about her head, a collar at her neck and more. Nestled among the jewels were tiny bells...their purpose became clear when the girl began to dance.
She began slowly, with graceful, sinuous movements about the pavilion. There was no music: the dancer created her own rhythm with the bells she wore. Her movements gradually became faster, more abandoned, the soft folds of her gown flared outward as she spun, revealing more and more of her body. Alani could almost have enjoyed watching, but all too soon she became aware of the effect the dance was having on the men.
...dragged screaming by her hair into the cave...no, please...what do they want with us?...Dione's voice, begging, pleading..."Do as you will, but don't harm her"...the malicious smile of the man holding Dione down...and the other, lying on top of her, hurting her...his emotion, so strong Alani couldn't block it out...his lust...
Krassis signalled to one of the women and she moved forward with obvious reluctance. Not needing to be told what he wanted, she knelt between his legs and lifted aside his clothing. No one else in the pavilion seemed to notice; the dancer kept dancing without even a pause. Alani caught a brief glimpse of the man's engorged penis before the woman bent over him, taking his member into her mouth. Krassis' eyes never left the dancer. It was as if he barely noticed the woman's actions.
...Dione's agonised scream as the hunter forced himself into her...Alani struggled to get to her, but was held back...forced to watch the hunter thrusting away...his grunt of satisfaction as he spilt his seed..."The witch enjoys it"..."You're not done"...Couldn't they see they were hurting her?... "Dione! Dione!" screamed over and over until her throat was raw...the second man beat and choked Dione as he raped her...her screams became sobs...and oh, goddess, the agony...
Alani's terror was overwhelming. All she could think about was Dione, as she had last seen her, broken and bleeding on the floor of their cave. And the feelings that had made her that way: the lust of men. Just like the men before her now.
The circle of protection Alani had so painstakingly built wavered and disappeared.
Krassis' desire reached its peak. A moment later, the woman raised her head, re-arranged his clothing and stood as he waved her away.
"You, girl! More wine!" Krassis called.
Alani forced her legs and hands to move, to step forward and refill his cup. As she tilted the jug Krassis grabbed her, spilling the wine and dragging her into his lap. His mouth descended onto hers and she struggled to get out of his embrace. Without success. She smelled the wine on his breath as he forced his tongue between her lips. Involuntarily, she opened her mouth and his tongue snaked in. He pushed up her top, tearing the fragile material, and grabbed one of her breasts. Alani squealed with pain, still struggling.
He let her go with an exuberant laugh. "Virgins! Such a waste of time." Watching Alani with a leer as she straightened her clothing, he waved a hand in dismissal. "Out! All of you."
Stunned, Alani obeyed, following the other women from the pavilion. As the cold night air hit her, panic struck. Alani began to run. She had no idea where she was going, she just ran into the darkness.
Her unplanned move took everyone by surprise, and gave her a few seconds headstart. She swerved to avoid a dark shape ahead and realised it was a tree. The ground beneath her feet began to feel familiar: it was woodland loam. Alani couldn't afford to be careful, to choose a path. Branches snagged at her hair and her clothes as she ran. Twigs scratched her face and arms. The soft slippers on her feet were little protection but she when she lost one she felt the pain of the rough ground on her feet. She ran. Her chest felt heavy, her lungs ready to burst. She ran.
A fallen branch, unseen in the darkness, tripped her and she fell headlong, the breath forced from her body with the impact. She heard the cry of an owl overhead. Alani tried to get up, but her body wouldn't co-operate. She was too tired, she had run too far. She crawled instead, finding refuge beneath a bank of thorns. She lay there, her panting breath too loud, waiting. Minutes passed and she began to believe she was safe. She lay her head on her arms and allowed herself to relax. Her eyes closed.
Suddenly she was surrounded by flaming light. Rough hands dragged her to her feet. A face close to hers shouted incoherently. Someone's fist slammed into her stomach and she doubled over in pain. A boot struck her thigh. A hand grabbed her hair – it had escaped its braid – and pulled her painfully up. Someone slapped her. A fist in her side. Alani fell again. Instinctively, she curled into a ball, her arms and hands protecting her head. The blows rained down.
After an eternity, Alani was forced to stand again, her arms held firmly by two men. If not for their rough support, she would have fallen. They half-carried, half-dragged her as they returned to the camp.
Taking her back to Krassis. Returning her to slavery. And her punishment.