******

"Palaxius, you know we are with you," the young, dark lad unconsciously lifted a hand to touch the bandage wrapped around his cut forehead. "But are you sure this is the right time?"

They were huddled together in a secret room, twenty young men and women, Palaxius and his friends. Yet, none were reassured when yesterday their leader showed signs of crumbling under the pressure at the tavern. A few saw Palaxius get quietly drunk with Hercules watching.

Palaxius told his comrades when he saw Hercules enter Gaspius yesterday he thought they had gained an ally but soon reconsidered when good sense reared its head. Minister Angerles was honoring Hercules and, after such an ego massage, he might not be inclined to believe in a ragtag band of revolutionaries.

Iolaus, on the other hand, he wanted to trust. There was something about him that made Palaxius believe they were kindred spirits of a kind. But now Iolaus was taken and if there was a possibility they could save him ...

"There will be no better time. If we don't act now, as we've planned to, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives." Palaxius spoke low but urgently, "We've seen this go on for far too long. We've all lost someone dear to us -- and has it made a difference? Has it?"

All in the room shook their heads. No, nothing had changed.

A red haired young man, a bit older than Palaxius and the others spoke. "But you saw what happened yesterday. Sherman here just mentioned your name and the idea of revolution and the crowd went ballistic. I think there are far more in Gaspius that want to stick with the old ways than move into the future."

"I don't agree with that," Palaxius countered. "I saw many back away, just watching the fight, and a good portion of the crowd was fighting for Sherman, not against him." He lifted a hand and ruffled the boy's hair a bit. "It's a good thing you have a hard head, my friend."

A chuckle came from the gathering.

A young woman, wearing dark brown leathers and standing firm said, "He's right. And the city's loyalty spin - even if they aren't truly certain of our motives - is one reason we have to move now. The opportunity is here and the fence sitters are out there. We have to open their eyes now. We have to show them what they're thinking isn't wrong."

"And," Palaxius added, "we have to show Minister Angerles that he isn't lord and master over Gaspius, that it's people should have a say despite tradition."

"Good words." came a deep call from across the room. "And if you believe them you really might have a chance."

Hercules stood at the now opened door, "I'm willing to help you if you'll help me."

He walked in the rest of the way.

*********

"On your feet."

Stupefied and half-asleep, he barely heard the guard as he and a comrade took Iolaus rather roughly by the arms and forced him to stand upright. He tried to concentrate on their voices, to what they said and what was happening around him, but it was as if his mind was shrouded by fog.

Still, clamping down on some inner strength, he did make an escape attempt. Iolaus punched out once, connecting with one of the guard's jaw, but was quickly brought down to his knees by the other guard who chopped once on the back of his neck. Iolaus' usually quick reflexes were not at their best.

"Not a good move, little man," the guard who Iolaus punched grabbed him cruelly by the vest and prepared to give The Chosen the beating of his life.

"No, there's no time for this." the second guard warned. "Besides, Minister Angerles will have your hide if he's marked up before the ceremony."

Although there was little fear that the weakened Iolaus would fight them further, the men nevertheless tied his hands together in front of him with a heavy rope. The two temple guards then carried the smaller, weakened man between them from the prison.

"What's going to happen?" Iolaus managed to whisper. "Where's Hercules?"

One guard chuckled and the other merely acknowledged the questions by stating that Iolaus would never have to concern himself with Hercules or anyone else ever again.

Iolaus blinked against the sunlight as he was brought outside, where he heard the hullabaloo of celebration. Flower petals, undoubtedly tossed to the cheering crowd by The Sisters of Reclamation, spotted the street as well as other confetti. When they turned a corner Iolaus saw great jubilation. It was mid-morning and the festival was in full swing. He could hear children singing, men and women cheering, and game playing. Others, Iolaus saw, were eating as if this might be their last meal.

"Don't eat the eggs," he murmured almost drunkenly to the revelers.

Iolaus was pulled into the hub of the city, where the main event was to take place, and he came to realize just how important it was to be selected The Chosen, whatever it might mean. He was in great danger - Iolaus knew this without a doubt - but for a split second, he almost felt venerable. The citizens of Gaspius were attempting to move past each other to get a better look at him, some even slapped him generously across the back and called, "You're the man!" He was being treated as some kind of celebrity. 'If only he could feel joy,' Iolaus thought. 'If only I could be sure he wasn't going to come to any harm.'

"So many people..." he whispered to no one but himself. Some were laughing and cheering and others watched with solemn acceptance. A few, Iolaus noted as he was pushed up a platform onto a wooden stage, even appeared concerned.

Minister Angerles and his two aides watched Iolaus as he was presented to them. Behind them were three Sisters of Reclamation, including the woman Iolaus knew so well. She was carelessly twisting a lock of her long auburn hair around a finger then winked at Iolaus when their eyes met.
It was crazy but he actually felt a little more comfortable knowing she was there.

Behind them, separated by a plank, was a larger structure. It was covered over by a huge length of dark fabric that, apparently, was to be uncovered and presented at a later time.

Iolaus was turned clumsily around, his bound hands in front of him. Now, he looked out at the crowd, attempted to clear his vision and take in their responses. Perhaps it wasn't going to be so bad, he considered with some lingering hope. After all, there were little boys and girls about. Would their parents really want them to see something as ghastly as a man breathing his last breath? Maybe, just maybe...

"Friends and citizens," Angerles began, "as is always the case this time of year, we must now pay tribute, demonstrating our obedience and thankfulness to our patron god!"

A roar of exultation and anticipation came from a good portion of the crowd.

"We have prayed to the gods for fifty years asking each season that our city prosper. Some years are better than others are but this year our patron has heard our cries. He came to me in a vision not one week ago and said that nothing but the best will do for him this year. The men, women and children from the past - those whose bones are enshrined in our beloved temple for all time - will always be respected for their sacrifices but now we have another." Angerles lifted a hand and mimed in Iolaus direction. "A warrior, hunter, lover, reformed thief, and the best friend of Greece's greatest hero, the son of Zeus, Hercules! I give you Iolaus of Corinth!"

The applause was deafening and Iolaus felt himself blush despite his fears.

The Sisters of Reclamation approached The Chosen with bowls of sweet smelling liquid. Each fluid was tinted a different color and one by one a Sister dipped a corner of a delicately embroidered handkerchief inside. She then traced lines across Iolaus cheeks and forehead.

"We are anointing you," The Sister Iolaus knew so well explained quietly. "You will be forever remembered after today, Iolaus." Then she untied his hands and kissed him gently on the lips. The other two Sisters did the same. Iolaus was too nervous to find pleasure in any of it.

"And now," Minister Angerles continued, "the presentation of The Chosen's gift!"

Iolaus was turned again; this time to look at the immense structure that was still covered by fabric.

"Our patron god the magnificent god of fire, PYRO, will be served!"

On cue, Hertuges moved to a long dangling rope and pulled hard.

The fabric fell away to reveal a tall scaffolding made of wood. Underneath it was the largest pile of kindling Iolaus had ever seen. His eyes grew wide as he suddenly realized what was to happen to him.

"Prepare the bonfire of life!" Angerles shouted.

Iolaus struggled now, attempting desperately to break away from the temple guards who were holding him and dragging him to the scaffold, "This makes no sense!" Iolaus shouted to the mob behind him. "Pyro's dead! Hercules extinguished him a long time ago!" but his cries seemed to fall on deaf ears. "You're making sacrifices to a god that doesn't even exist anymore and even if he was alive this wouldn't matter! You're killing people for no reason. You're prospering because you are making yourself prosper! It's not "

A cloth was then shoved into Iolaus mouth as his arms, legs and feet were bound firmly to a thick pole anchored on to the framework. He struggled with all of his might but he was still feeling the effects of the morning's drugging and his efforts proved futile.

With the touch of a torch, the wood beneath Iolaus was set aflame. He could hear people singing and knew it was in honor of him. `They don't understand. They're actually happy about this.' But then he saw men and women in the assemblage that did not seem joyful. He could see some women weeping and a few men who seemed to want to help but didn't know how or even if they should. It wasn't what they were taught.

Iolaus was overcome with smoke and passed out, held up only by the rope that anchored him ridged to the scaffold.

*****

They were off in the distance, able to hear very little, and not entirely secure with what it was they were watching. Hercules was just relieved to see a still living and breathing Iolaus being jostled up those steps onto the stage. Sure, he looked a little less than animated and not really himself but at least Iolaus wasn't dead. That in itself was reason for cheer.

However, the moment Hercules saw his friend tied to the post and the wood underneath the platform exploding into flame he motioned to the rebels, "Go!" There was no time to lose.

The revolutionaries emerged from their hiding places, headed by Palaxius and surrounded the square. Staffs and swords were held ready in anticipation of a violent outbreak and they were not disappointed. Most of the patrons ran for cover as over-confident temple soldiers fought the mutineers discovering themselves inexplicably matched.

Then Hercules himself moved forward, punching his way through guardsmen and others whom thought to block his path. Hercules fought well but was hampered as the demigod was forced to take stock in the three crossbow arrows flying in his direction. He caught them in mid-air and broke them as he continued to proceed to the stage.

Hercules watched between punches as Iolaus struggled against his restraints then gradually began to lose consciousness. Soon, the smoke grew so thick Hercules couldn't see his friend at all and he felt a deep dread.

The Sisters of Reclamation quickly made their way off the platform, to watch all that was happening from a safe distance, but Angerles and a reluctant Hertuges stood their ground.

"What shall we do, Minister?" Hertuges asked, his voice shaking. Eyes darted to the chaos below, watching and suddenly understanding that one of the rebels was Hercules. He had never left Gaspius as he vowed. "We're doomed!"

"Nonesense! Pyro will prevail," Angerles insisted. He looked behind his shaking aide at the flames beginning to lick up the scaffold ready to engulf their sacrifice. "It won't be long now."

"But the stranger said Pyro is dead. Can it be true?"

*The wrong question.*

Stricken and incensed, Angerles' attention unexpectedly focused on his aide, "How dare you!" His tone seethed threat, as his face grew scarlet, "After all I have taught you! Pyro is supreme and I am Gaspius! You are not fit to be in our presence!"

Then, with a strength unexpected by his young colleague, Angerles shoved him hard and the aide fell backward into the flames. His body was instantly engulfed and the young man's screams were agonized and heart wrenching.

Angerles' thoughtless and cruel act caught more than one person's attention.

The temple guards hesitated in their duties, physically fighting what they thought were unpatriotic outlaws. The riot in the square began to grow quiet as the citizens of Gaspius - many of them mothers and fathers - took in what had just happened. Gaspius' leader, their one oracle of truth, was a monster and they had fallen for all his lies.

"What are you all looking at?" Angerles cried when he realized he was being stared at.

By this time a band of rebels were carting large barrels of water to the burning scaffold and dousing the fire, unfortunately too late for Hertuges. The flames were so intense he was burned beyond recognition in just minutes.

Hercules stood on the top step and was about to check on Iolaus when Palaxius passed at a run. With him were two others. "We'll get him, Hercules. You tend to Angerles. The people are on your side now."

The smoke was slowly beginning to clear enough for him to see a sooty and seemingly unconscious Iolaus being cut free from the pole. Satisfied for the moment, Hercules then approached Angerles who, for some bizarre reason, did not seem intimidated, "Are you insane?" the demigod asked, attempting in vain to keep his voice steady. "If he's hurt."

"For what you have done ..." Minister Angerles began then turned his tone up an octive for his now uncertain audience to hear. "For what he has done the great god Pyro will doom the citizens of Gaspius!" the Minister cried. Hearing the comforting gasps from a few of his listeners, the Minister continued: "Now, the only sacrifice that will be treated with any amount of respect will be the son of Zeus himself!" Angerles proclaimed. "I say we take him, burn him -- all for the greater glory of our patron! I say we destroy both of these men and all those who were involved with this sacrilege!"

Yet, no one was making a move. All, even his trusted temple guards and the Sisters of Reclamation, were staring at Minister Angerles. No one believed him. He was crazy. He was done.

"What you were doing wasn't for Gaspius," Hercules said. "It was for you. It was for power. You really might believe in what you were doing but, truly, it was for an evil force that ceased to exist years ago. Pyro is gone. He doesn't hear or see any of this. You were wrong, Angerles. You were just so horribly wrong."

"No." Angerles backed up unwilling to believe what he was hearing.

Regretful sobs came from the masses now. Fathers held their children a little closer. Mothers and wives fell into their men's embraces. They had all been erring and wronged.

"Hercules!"

He turned at Palaxius panicked call.

"Iolaus isn't breathing! I...I...think he's dead."

Hercules ran to his friend and knelt beside his prone body. He lifted him up by his slightly singed purple vest and shook Iolaus with fear and grief. "Iolaus ... wake up," his plea bordered on a demand.

He attempted mouth to mouth resusitation.

The young woman Hercules had been introduced to back at the hiding place kneeled across from Hercules and a sorrowful expression came over her face, "Hercules, it was the smoke. There was just too much. I'm sorry. Palaxius is right. He is dead."

"Oh, no." The demigod stood and pulled Iolaus' lax form into his arms, "We've been here too many times. He is not dead and I won't accept that."

Quickly, he made his way down the stage steps and carried his best friend across the square. The crowd respectfully parted for Hercules and followed him to the Tarsus River.

Once there, Hercules walked into the cold water without hesitation and when it became waist deep he gently allowed Iolaus body to float on the surface as he spoke. "Irrigrotus! If you are a god who heals a being of infinite powers as we have all been told, please help me. I'll do anything for you if you will just bring him back. You can do it." Hercules voice grew low and thoughtful, "I've not been generous to a certain segment of my family but I need you, now. Tell me what I can do for you to make a miracle happen." The tears in Hercules eyes fell, to trail down his cheeks. "I'll do anything!" he repeated, his voice now chkoing with sobs.

It was Sumeria all over again.

Then the half-god felt a vibration. Everyone who stood on land by the river felt it.

"Hercules," an echoing voice came from all around but there was no form. "Believe it or not, some gods don't require payment. We become disappointed in those who don't appreciate when we help them, true. But sometimes we do good deeds just to do them."

Iolaus eyes blinked open.

"Take care, cousin," and the voice that of Irrigrotus faded away.

"Wow," Hercules murmured. The gods, as vain and cruel as some could be, could still surprise him.

"What are you trying to do drown me?" Iolaus suddenly thrashed, spraying water this way and that and stood upright. "This water is freezing! I could catch pneumonia! And," with a start, Iolaus heard laughter and saw all of the people beside the river, including Palaxius. They seemed contented and somehow relieved. Hercules was chuckling too and the hunter realized why. "Er -- It wasn't that long ago that I was really warm, huh?" he asked but it was a statement. A little embarrassed, recalling his near roasting at the hands of Angerles, Iolaus whispered, "Umh, sorry, Herc. Thanks again."

Hercules put his arms around his buddy and squeezed hard. "Iolaus, never change."

******

Epilogue