by By The Sword
The cluster of buildings came to an abrupt end, as if an invisible wall had been reached. Two hundred yards of open ground surrounded the king's rise, and the road did not continue on to the top, as Hercules had thought.
The road ended at the base; from there to the top were broad marble steps leading to a gap in the palace wall. Colorful pennants flew from the top. He could see guards stationed around the base. There were also long and low wood structures where the slope ended at the top, but he couldn't figure out what they were.
Nikos pointed at the way up. "One hundred"—a frown, and one eye closed in thought—"and thirty-two steps." A grin now, proud. "I counted them as I went up."
"You must have been exhausted."
"Nah. I was younger then. And"—he scowled at his feet—"my legs were straight."
Hercules smiled briefly. "Nothing fancy here," he said, frowning as he scanned the blank wall.
"New king, new ideas."
The escort dismounted at the base of the steps, and as they hustled the prisoners out of the wagon, Hercules noticed that no one had followed them from the new city. That puzzled him. In other places, even those ruled by the worst tyrants, there are always crowds near the gates—beggars, petitioners, con men, hawkers, supplicants, mercenaries looking for work, thieves, and simple travelers.
This arrangement was strange.
A horn blew a single commanding note.
The soldiers immediately arranged themselves in two straight lines extending from the bottom step. The prisoners were forced to kneel, facing the steps.
Hercules and Nikos stood to one side at a silent order from the leader.
"There's something I forgot to tell you about King Arclin," Nikos whispered nervously.
A small figure in white appeared at the gate. Behind it stood two others holding long gold poles topped with blue-and-yellow plumes. To either side were clusters of men and women in clothing those in the new city would probably kill for, given half a chance.
"What's that?"
The figure descended slowly.
The horn blew.
The soldiers stiffened to attention.
Theo glanced back at Hercules; his arrogance was gone.
"Well... I don't want to be disrespectful, you know, but I don't want you to get in trouble either."
The horn blew, not very well; in fact, it wavered a little, and missed a couple of grace notes.
The figure was midway down the steps.
"So tell me," Hercules said from the corner of his mouth.
"Well..."
Hercules looked at the figure, blinked, and said, "Never mind, I think I've got it."
The king wore a flowing white robe, elaborately embroidered with broad gold and silver bands at the hem and around the edges of the flowing sleeves. Around his neck he wore a jeweled medallion in the shape of a multipointed star; on his wrists were copper and gold bracelets studded with jewels; on his feet he wore gold-tasseled sandals that seemed determined to catch themselves on the gown's hem; and on his head he wore a small but impressively jeweled crown.
He seemed young, with dark brown hair cropped short and slightly curled above his nape. His eyes were a startling cold blue, and he was lean and angled, and probably even younger than he looked.
He was also the shortest king Hercules had ever seen in his life.
That's him? Hercules thought in amazement; that's the king everyone's talking about? My gods, how do people keep from giggling?
"Willpower," Nikos whispered.
Hercules stifled a laugh, sobered immediately, and watched as the king halted on the third step, clasped his hands in front of him, and said, "Captain of the Guard?"
The escort leader stepped forward; even on level ground, he wasn't much shorter than the king on the third step.
"Do you have the prisoners?"
"Aye, sire. They appear before you now in disgrace and humiliation."
The king looked down his pudgy nose at the kneeling raiders. "That one has horns, Captain."
"Yes, sire."
"I don't like horns."
The captain instantly reached out and slapped Theo's hat from his head.
"Thank you."
"Your wish, sire."
"And the man who captured them?"
The captain pointed. "Hercules, sire, and a man called Nikos of Markan."
"Bring them to me."
The captain gestured.
Hercules didn't move, and grabbed Nikos' arm to keep him at his side.
A moment passed.
"Captain, are they moving?"
The captain gestured again, a little frantically this time. "Uh, no, sire, they're not."
Nikos hissed a warning, but Hercules held his place.
"Are they dead, Captain?"
The captain's eyes widened as he tried to stare Hercules into moving, and the import of his gesture changed from you 're going to get us killed to are you out of your bloody mind?
Another second passed before Hercules stepped into the road, practically dragging Nikos behind him until they stopped just behind the raiders.
"My apologies," Hercules said. "My friend and I aren't used to traveling so far, so fast." He smiled.
Quickly. "We're a little stiff."
Nikos nodded so hard Hercules had to stop him before he made them both dizzy.
The king finally deigned to meet Hercules' gaze. "1 am pleased that such a famous individual would help one of our little communities. It does us great honor."
"It's nothing," Hercules replied modestly.
"Oh, but no, it is something," the king insisted, his smile wide, his eyes nearly closing. "These scum"—and he nodded to the prisoners—"have caused us so much trouble, you just don't know. That you were able to defeat them is a wonder. A veritable wonder."
"You're too kind," Hercules replied. Modestly.
King Arclin preened, pudgy hands drifting over the folds of his royal gown. "Yes, well, I do try, you know. I do try." A gesture caused the captain to snap an order, which, in turn, caused his men to grab the prisoners, yank them to their feet, and haul them up the steps toward the palace. The captain remained at his sovereign's side, but one step below so the king still managed a full inch's advantage.
Hercules saw that he sweated a little.
Arclin reached into one sleeve and fumbled around a bit before pulling out a small sack. He bounced it on his hand so that all within hearing would know there was money inside, and tossed it to Hercules.
Hercules snatched it, handed it to Nikos, and said, "Very generous. Markan will be pleased."
The king waved the gratitude away with a languid gesture. "It is only a cap on today's wonderful news, Hercules."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes." Another gesture, this one over his shoulder. "The small community of Drethic has decided to embrace our protection against the vile incursions of the vile Zorin." He grinned. "Along with our other modest political and geographical gains lately, my mapmakers are working overtime. I think two of them are going blind."
The captain guffawed for exactly three seconds.
Nikos chuckled weakly, but frowned a lot.
Hercules merely smiled his not terribly sincere congratulations, knowing as he did that Drethic was no small community, and the last he had heard, was definitely not within this kingdom's boundaries. Still, it wouldn't be the first time a border town had switched its allegiance from one king to another. Providing safety for his citizens was one of a ruler's primary obligations.
That, however, wasn't what bothered him.
It was the implication that Drethic wasn't the only town that had sought Arclin's protection.
The king made a gesture.
The captain made a gesture.
The horn blew a single note, clear and strong.
"Ah," Arclin said regretfully, "duty calls, I'm afraid. Thank you ever so much, Hercules and Nikos.
You're always welcome at my table."
He turned, and Nikos stepped forward before H
ercules could stop him.
"Sire?"
The king looked back, unpleasantly surprised. "Yes?"
The captain gestured and mugged frantically behind the king's back.
"Sire ..." Nikos didn't know whether to stand or kneel, bow or genuflect, and so froze in a half crouch that made him look as if he had stomach cramps. "Sire, the raiders threatened to return, with Zorin himself, even though our friend Hercules warned him we are now under his protection. We .. . Zorin's Fire
... we don't... I mean, Hercules has so many places to ... I mean ..."
He stammered into silence.
The horn blew a flourish.
The king gestured.
The captain gestured.
The horn shut up.
"My good man," the king said flatly, "Hercules is a busy man, as you have said. Markan is under my protection now, and you may tell your little people that they have nothing to fear from Zorin's Fire." He glared. "I will see to that."
Nikos nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty, thank you, Your Majesty, you're very kind, Your Majesty."
"Yes," Arclin said. "I am, aren't I?"
In as regal a fashion as he could manage without tripping over his robe, he ascended the steps toward his palace.
The captain, meanwhile, raced down the steps, whispered, "If you know what's good for you, you'll be out of here before sunset," to Hercules, raced back up the steps, and gestured just in time to get the horn going again before the king reached the unfinished gates.
Nikos moaned.
"What?" Hercules said.
"I can't straighten up."
Hercules rolled his eyes at the gods who gave him such powerful friends, helped Nikos stand, then looked up at the palace while the innkeeper tried not to fall over.
"Are we in trouble, Hercules?"
Hercules thought for a moment before he nodded.
"Why? What did we do?"
"Nothing." He turned toward the new city. "It's just that your good king knows something. And he thinks I know it, too."
"And do you?"
Another pause before: "Yes, I think I do."
"Is it that bad?"
"Bad enough, my friend, that if we don't do as the captain says, there's a chance we'll be dead by morning."
The problem with leaving town in a hurry, Hercules knew as he and Nikos left town in a hurry, is that walking wasn't nearly as efficient as a good horse would have been.
Still, they were able to make decent time once he was able to convince the innkeeper that testing every roadside meal stand for something he could use at the Bull and Bullock was not, under the circumstances, the best of ideas.
Dead with a full stomach was still dead. The only difference was, you didn't burp when you were done.
"But I don't get it," the innkeeper complained once they had left the last of the new city behind. "Why would King Arclin want us killed?"
"Not you, me."
"But I'm with you."
Hercules couldn't argue.
The sun had already begun its downward slide, the sky darkening, shadows filling the few trees scattered across the broad plain. A large flock of birds wheeled northward, the air filled with calls and cries. A rider galloped past them, heading toward the city.
No one passed them in the other direction.
"I can't die, you know," Nikos insisted quietly. "My son. I can't die."
"You won't," Hercules told him.
"But you said—"
"I said he probably wants us dead, and that's true. But that doesn't mean we'll die, my friend. At least not without a fight."
"Oh," Nikos said, "that makes me feel so much better."
Hercules laughed. "Okay, okay. Here's what I think's going on."
"Maybe you shouldn't tell me," Nikos interrupted apologetically. "What I don't know maybe won't hurt me."
"Maybe."
"Of course, like you said, I'm with you. And they would naturally think that, since we're kind of but not really partners, you'll tell me everything."
"Probably."
"Which mea ns..." Nikos shuddered. "I don't live right, you know? I'm an innkeeper, not a fighter."
"Yes," Hercules said. "But for an innkeeper, you're a pretty good fighter anyway."
Nikos beamed.
Hercules checked behind them to be sure there were no riders on their trail. Then he explained.
For a small kingdom, and an even smaller king, there was, it seemed, an awful lot of construction going on at the palace. While the old king might have been content with what he had, it didn't appear to Hercules as if the new king was following in his father's footsteps. Hercules had seen the partial construction of one tower, which undoubtedly meant there would be at least three more. Without having been inside, he reckoned King Arclin II wasn't going to be satisfied with a couple of bedrooms, a great hall, a throne room, and a few meeting rooms. This palace looked to be striving for something usually found only around Athens, Corinth, or Sparta.
"The man has taste," Nikos suggested.
Hercules pictured the gold-tasseled sandals, and shook his head.
And with all due respect, he continued, he sincerely doubted that, as good as the king's army was, it was in any way so wondrous and marvelous that it would be able to protect the entire kingdom, especially since Arclin was adding new towns to his holdings somewhat frequently.
New towns did not come alone.
There was all the land that connected them, and Arclin didn't seem at all concerned that the rulers who owned those lands were probably more than a little annoyed.
Sooner or later one of them was going to step in. If it hadn't already happened.
"The army," Nikos reminded him.
The army, Hercules reminded him in turn, was small. He doubted it would be able to hold off much larger units from much larger, wealthier kingdoms whose leaders were probably royally pissed.
"But he's been able to stop Zorin, hasn't he?"
They reached the crossroads just as the sun sank below the horizon. Although dusk still provided some light, it was not enough for their needs. Hercules steered them to the left, back toward Markan. It was the obvious route to take should there be pursuers, but he had no knowledge of the terrain elsewhere, and this was no time to learn.
Nikos had been puffing for quite some time, and now added a touch of panting.
Nevertheless Hercules pressed on.
Of course, all his suspicions could be wasted. It might well be that Arclin was just a short king with tall ambitions. Whatever the hell that meant. Yet Hercules was determined not to take any chances. At least not until he was able to straighten out what he had gotten himself into this time.
A habit, he realized sourly, he had grown much too used to for his own peace of mind, and for keeping all his body parts where they belonged.
First, he had to make sure the king's men didn't kill him and Nikos. Assuming they were going to try.
Assuming Arclin suspected that Hercules suspected that not all was well and proper around here these days.
Then he had to figure out how he was going to keep his promise to Hephaestos, and recover the stolen sword. Assuming the stolen sword was recoverable. Assuming the stolen sword wasn't Zorin's Fire.
He snorted.
Well, of course it was. Any idiot could figure that one out. How else could Zorin be so successful, so quickly?
But if the stolen sword actually was Zorin's Fire, then why was Zorin content just to raid towns and villages now and then? Why didn't he aim for a larger prize, like Athens or ... ?
With a grunt he stopped, and Nikos bumped into him, rebounded, and stared.
"Why," Hercules asked, "hasn't Zorin tried to take this kingdom as his own?"
Nikos stared.
"Why hasn't Zorin run amok around here? He certainly has the power to do it."
Nikos stared.
"How has King Arclin been able to stop Zorin, when Zorin has this powerful weapon? With his army?
That army?
"
Nikos stared.
"And what in blazes are you staring at, Nikos?"
Nikos interrupted his staring long enough to point tremulously over Hercules' shoulder.
Hercules turned, sighed, and said, "Now what?"
And Hermes, hovering about four feet off the ground, answered, "If you know so much, dear brother, why don't you stop asking so many questions and go get the thing before Hephaestos blows his top?" The messenger shuddered dramatically. "Literally."
"If I knew where it was," Hercules said testily.
"Well, that's why I'm back."
"You know where it is?"
"Yes." Hermes shuddered again. "But that's not all."
"What are you talking about?"
Three pairs of wings fluttered in agitation as Hermes smiled wanly and muttered, "Boy, you're not going to like this one."
Realizing that standing in the middle of the road with a winged god, even if it was nearly full dark, would probably draw some unwanted attention, Hercules hushed his brother with a gesture and suggested they head for the grove of oak he had spotted some hundred yards distant.
Hermes flew off without argument.
Nikos said he didn't think he could take any more wonders today, and would Hercules mind if maybe he just headed on home by himself?
Hercules did mind.
With a firm hand he guided the innkeeper across the plain to the grove, in the center of which they found Hermes, a warm fire already burning in a shallow pit and a large plucked bird turning slowly on a spit.
"I figured you were hungry," he explained, tossing a pinch of herbs over the roasting fowl.
"Thanks," Hercules answered as his stomach growled. "We are."
Nikos couldn't help himself: "How did you do that so fast?"
"God stuff," Hermes answered.
Nikos sniffed the air and sighed approval. "It smells wonderful."
"Thank you." A cocked eyebrow at Hercules. "At least someone around here appreciates me."
"Don't start," Hercules warned as he sat on the grass. "I'm not in the mood."
"It's not going to get any better," the messenger replied. He had abandoned the silver kilt for a long green tunic that reached his knees and was belted around the waist in basic black. From a small pouch on the belt he pulled three plates, passed them out, and used the hissing caduceus to slice pieces from the spitted bird.
