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  Night on the Borderlands 
 by Martha Wilson  
 


 Iolaus opened his eyes, winced away from light that sent a bolt of pain
right through his forehead. Augh, hangover, he thought with a grimace. His
mouth was dry and sandy, the back of his throat was on fire and a damp
chill raised gooseflesh on his skin; his body hurt with a bone-deep ache.
Squinting against the light, he made a terrible effort and pushed himself
up on his elbows. The rough stone surface under him gritted painfully
against his hands, catching on the soft material of the shirt he wore. For
a moment that was as far as he could get; it felt like something was
actually sitting on his chest. He managed to get his eyes all the way open
and saw the light wasn't that bright; dim sunlight fell through the cracks
in a cave roof high overhead, revealing a cold shadowy cavern. Uh oh, he
thought warily. He had a bad feeling about this. 

 Baffled, Iolaus pushed himself up a little more. The clothes he wore were
of a black and filmy silk, and doing absolutely nothing to keep out the
chill radiating off the stone. He lifted a fold of the fabric, seeing it
was stained with something that had the unpleasant coppery odor of dried
blood. A lot of dried blood. So maybe not a hangover, he thought, sick.
The shirt had been torn open across his chest and he pulled it aside to
see a fresh wound, red and raw, nearly a handspan long, right down the
center of his chest. More dried blood stained his skin, as if it had run
in rivulets down his chest and stomach. Grimacing, he pulled the shirt
closed. I did not see that. That was not there. 

 He looked blearily around, suddenly realizing he wasn't lying on the
floor, but on a roughly square slab of stone, several feet high. He
groaned aloud, though it hurt his throat. This just keeps getting better.
Desperate to get off this plinth, he managed to swing mostly unresponsive
legs off the stone and push himself over the edge. His legs gave out and
he caught himself on the slab, wincing. The stone scraped painfully;
everything seemed to hurt way too much, as if his skin was far too
sensitive. Pushing himself up a little, blinking, he saw he had been lying
in blood, pooling in the crevices of the rough stone. He touched it with
one finger, uneasily fascinated, but it was dry. Whatever happened, it
happened a while ago. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. 

 Still unsteady, he sank down beside the slab. Squinting, he saw there
were big stone doors in the far wall of the cave, but he couldn't tell if
they were real or some kind of ornament carved into the wall; they looked
far too heavy for anyone mortal to move. The floor was pitted and cracked
with age. He saw a slight depression nearby still held a puddle of
rainwater and he lurched forward, scooping up a bare handful to drink. It
was stale and tasted of the rock but was almost cool enough to slake the
fire in his throat. 

 A sharp sound, a crash of stone against stone sent dull echoes through
the chamber. Iolaus froze, head lifted, staring at the doors.... 

 Iolaus flailed awake. He realized the thing on top of him that he was
fighting was actually a blanket and shoved himself upright, his heart
pounding, with no idea what had woken him. They were camped in the shelter
of a rocky overhang, and the dying fire still gave enough light to wash
the stone with red, to show him there was no one nearby. Not here and not
at the edge of the shadowy stand of pines that vanished into darkness down
the hill, past the reach of the firelight. His sword and bow were propped
against the rock, their packs piled nearby. The night smelled damply of
wet earth and pine, but nothing more. 

 Then he noticed Hercules had rolled away and was sitting up on one elbow,
holding his nose. Iolaus frowned. "What's wrong?" 

 Hercules directed a mild glare at him. "I don't know. Apparently I was
asleep, and someone backhanded me in the face." 

 Iolaus stared at him blankly. "Oh. Sorry." He was still breathing hard
and he shook his head, trying to clear it, shoving the hair out of his
eyes. 

 Hercules rolled onto his back, cautiously feeling his nose. Being woken
in this abrupt fashion had obviously made him a tad grumpy. "Look, if you
want to wake me up, just shaking my shoulder and saying--" 

 "No." Iolaus shot him a glare back. The nightmare was coming back to him
in flashes and he realized that was what had woken him. "It was a dream."
He found himself staring down at his chest, but the scar from the last
time he had been killed was barely visible, not a new raw wound. He
touched it cautiously, not sure he believed his own eyes. 

 Watching him, Hercules sat up, a little more awake. "About Dahak?" 

 "Yes. No." Iolaus rubbed his eyes, wishing he could either banish the
images or understand what they meant. And dreaming that he had woken up
and then actually waking up left him uneasy. He kept waiting for the other
sandal to drop. "I woke up alive. Or I thought I was alive. And there was
a door, with something coming through it. That's all." 

 "Oh." Hercules propped his arms on his knees, eyeing him thoughtfully.
"Was...the other Iolaus involved? Because that's usually when you try to
hit me in your sleep." 

 "No." Iolaus glared at him again. 

 "Sorry." Hercules contemplated the glare for a moment. He cleared his
throat. "I was trying to lighten the mood." 

 "Don't." Iolaus recaptured his blanket and flopped back down, yanking it
up to his shoulder and turning his back to the demigod. 

 Hercules watched this with a bemused shake of his head. "Right." He
sighed to himself and tried to go back to sleep. 

 *** 

 Hercules had hoped Iolaus' mood would be improved by the time he woke in
the morning. It usually was, even when he had nightmares. 

 But Iolaus sat across the fire from him, his himation pulled around his
shoulders against the chill in the air, his expression disgruntled. The
morning was wet and cool, the sky gray and the pines dripping. The damp
made the loose curls of Iolaus' hair even wilder than usual, and his bangs
were too long, giving him the appearance of an angry blond sheepdog.
Hercules decided to keep this observation to himself; he had used a little
grain from their supply bag to make a porridge to go with last night's
leftover duck for breakfast, and he didn't want to end up wearing it. And
Iolaus was eating like it was an unpleasant duty, so presumably he
wouldn't mind flinging it. 

 Iolaus was too preoccupied to much notice the food, the faint drizzle of
rain in the cool air, or his damp leathers. He had remembered more details
of the dream, and the more he remembered, the more uneasy it made him.
Hercules had been right, it had the feel of a Dahak dream. And, logically,
if he was going to dream about waking up dead -- or alive -- on a
sacrificial altar with a wound in his chest where somebody had cut his
heart out, you would assume Dahak was going to be involved in there
somewhere. But all the Dahak nightmares had been memories. Most of them he
hadn't actually remembered until he had seen them again in the dreams, but
once he had, he had known them for something that had actually happened.
This one...didn't feel as if it had happened. At least not to him, not so
far. But it didn't feel like something he had made up to scare himself
either; he knew his imagination didn't run that way. 

 Lost in thought, he had stopped eating and was frowning intently at the
fire. 

 Hercules noticed, his brows drawing together in concern. Iolaus was
usually too pragmatic to let a bad mood interfere with his appetite. "You
okay?" He asked, unable to help himself. 

 Iolaus gave him a look that suggested the question was nonsensical to the
point of bordering on insane. "Yes." But he made an effort to tuck into
the food. 

 Hercules frowned. He couldn't tell if he was overreacting or if Iolaus
was. And the thought that there might be something to react to that he had
missed bothered him. "Did something happen last night?" he asked, a little
exasperated and a little worried. 

 The worry penetrated Iolaus' preoccupation. He looked at Hercules,
bemused, lifting a brow. "While you were asleep? Like what?" 

 Hercules gestured helplessly. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking." 

 Iolaus shook his head, pushing the nightmare images firmly aside. It was
just a dream, and he was tired of thinking about it. "It's nothing. I just
can't wake up this morning, that's all." 

 "It's not exactly a great morning for travelling," Hercules agreed. He
decided to let it go. Maybe it was just the interrupted night's sleep. And
he had to admit the weather wasn't exactly lifting his spirits either. 

 That was probably all it was. 

 *** 

 Despite the rain, they covered ground steadily the next day, making their
way through the forested hills. By sunset they reached the river and
decided to camp on the sandy bank. The moon was waning and covered by
clouds, and they were still a couple of hours walk outside the village of
Tyrias. The village was small and probably had nothing like a tavern, and
there was no point in pushing on tonight just to wake someone up and ask
to sleep in a barn. They managed to catch a few fish by firelight and had
those and the last of the olives and cheese for dinner. 

 It was a wide calm shallow river, a sheet of black glass in the dark,
quiet except for the muted chuckle of the water over rock. 

 Sitting beside their fire, Iolaus looked off down the valley, to where he
knew the village lay, but he couldn't see its fires from here. "I wonder
what's wrong there, in Tyrias." 

 Hercules shook his head, adding another piece of wood to the fire. "Out
here, it could be anything. King Liatres said the villagers' message
wasn't very clear. It almost sounds like they don't know what's wrong." 

 Iolaus nodded, yawning. "That would tend to rule out your large monsters.
It's pretty easy to tell when you've got a ghidra problem." 

 "I hope it's not a ghidra." Hercules let out his breath, running his
hands through his hair. "A small, easily discouraged monster," he said a
little wistfully. "Maybe something that could be negotiated with...." 

 Iolaus suppressed a grin, regarding Hercules with a lifted brow. "Wow. I
think you just got old, right here, in front of my eyes." 

 Hercules snorted derisively. "Uh huh. Since I'm so old now, I'm going to
sleep." 

 Iolaus sat up a while longer, listening to the quiet mutter of the river
and the wind through the pines. After a while he realized that the reason
he felt reluctant to lie down and sleep was the dream he had had last
night. Idiot, he told himself. If it was a ghidra or something like it,
this might be his last chance for a sound sleep for the next few days. He
knocked the dirt and sand off his bedroll and lay down. 

 And he slid into the next dream as if sliding beneath the cold surface of
the river, and it was much worse. 

 Iolaus was slumped on a cold stone floor and he hurt again; his chest
ached and it was hard to breathe. People were standing over him, talking,
and torchlight flickered, but his attention was caught by the sticky
wetness dripping down his chest. Dazed, he lifted his hand; it was wet
with blood. He levered himself up a little and looked down. It was coming
from the raw red wound in his chest. It made a trail, smeared where he had
fallen into it, and as he looked behind him he saw it led to a large
square opening in the rock wall. He could see the large carved doors
standing open, each nearly three feet thick. The chamber past them was a
wall of darkness. I was in there, he thought, baffled. 

 "Hey, there's...blood and...." He looked up, wanting to call someone's
attention to the blood problem. His throat hurt and his voice came out as
an unrecognizable rasp. No one responded and he squinted, his eyes
confused by shifting shadows and torchlight, trying to see who these
people were. He saw Hercules, Jason, Nebula, Morrigan -- Morrigan? he
thought, bewildered. That doesn't make any sense. -- two men he didn't
recognize, and others standing in the shadowy background, moving,
whispering. The only one who seemed to notice him was himself. No, wait,
that was the Jester, the other Iolaus. He was standing beside Hercules,
looking down at him with a horrified expression. 

 Whatever, Iolaus thought. He didn't want to talk to the other Iolaus. He
focused on what the others were saying and heard, "--it obviously didn't
work. You have to try again." 

 "Again?" That was Hercules, but Iolaus couldn't get a good view of his
face, couldn't hear him clearly. It bothered him that Hercules wouldn't
look at him. He wanted to try to get his attention and started to reach
out, but he was distracted by the conversation and let his hand fall. 

 "It's the only way to kill Dahak." That was Morrigan, and her he could
hear clearly. She sounded passionate, intense. "You can't let it get away
again." 

 "It didn't get away," Iolaus told them, but nobody paid attention. 

 "He's got it inside him," one of the other men said. "You know that to be
true. It must be driven out." 

 "Yes, Zarathustra is right," Morrigan seconded, "If it wasn't Dahak
inside him, how could this happen?" 

 "Who are you talking about?" Iolaus demanded, forcing more strength into
his voice despite the pain. 

 They looked down at him this time, and it was Morrigan's eyes he met. Her
gaze was cold, merciless, and triumphant. 

 "Oh," Iolaus said, dread settling into his stomach. He knew who they
meant. 

 Iolaus jolted awake, sitting bolt upright, breathing hard, heart
pounding. He didn't wake Hercules this time, since the demigod had taken
the precaution of sleeping on the far side of the fire. Okay. That was
different. As in worse. 

 The fire had burnt down to coals and it was too dark to see anything but
the faint outline of the hills against the lighter black of the overcast
sky. He could hear the familiar chuckle of the water running over the
rocks, a friendly sound in the dark, and it gradually brought him back to
reality. 

 Iolaus realized he had a hand pressed to his chest and made himself
remove it. It was so vivid. Even now, he could still see it all, like a
festival play in his mind's eye. He could have sworn it was real. 

 Maybe it was real. He looked at Hercules, stretched out on a blanket on
the far side of the fire. He lay half on his side, one arm flung over his
eyes. Maybe it's something he just hasn't told you about yet. 

 The thought would have sounded deranged, except for the fact that
Hercules had failed to tell him that he had brought Iolaus' exact
duplicate back from the Sovereign's world and travelled with the man for
several months. For all Iolaus knew, he still would have no idea the man
existed if he hadn't run into him beside the grave marker where Iolaus'
old body was buried. And if he hadn't remembered in a dream that Dahak had
predicted it, and had shown him Hercules and the Jester travelling
together. 

 He sat a little closer to the fire, finding a stick to poke it back into
reluctant life. I thought we were done with all this. Morrigan's brief
return had triggered more hidden memories for both him and Hercules, and
he had thought that was the last of it. 

 Iolaus took a deep breath and faced the fear lurking in the back of his
mind. Hercules, Jason, Nebula and Morrigan had all been present for that
last battle with Dahak. Iolaus wasn't certain who the other men were.
Except the Jester. But that's impossible. He wasn't there. He wasn't even
in this world yet. Maybe that part was just an invention of the dream.... 

 But Morrigan had called one of the other men Zarathustra. Zarathustra.
Hercules said he came to help, but at some point Dahak took his place.
That had been one of those hidden memories Morrigan had unintentionally
helped them uncover. He said Zarathustra was definitely Dahak in the other
place, after we thought we had killed it. They had killed off most of the
demon god, but a few fragments had survived. All of the fragments had been
killed now, or at least Kheper had been confident of that. And the last
few times they thought they had found another one, it had turned out to be
something else. 

 It made Iolaus' guts cold to think it, but the dreams could have been
memories of something that had happened in Dahak's temple, when Hercules
and the others had fought it for the last time. But he had never
remembered seeing anything through Dahak's eyes while the creature had
inhabited his body. All his other memories had been of the other place
where he had been trapped, of being randomly tortured by the demon-god.
And the first dream had left him with the conviction that Dahak had been
nowhere around. 

 That was me, not Dahak. That was me bleeding on the floor while they
debated what to do. Iolaus groaned under his breath, rubbed his face,
looking away into the night. Maybe it was nothing, just a particularly
inventive nightmare. Maybe Morpheus had sent it to torture him, though the
god of dreams was mortally afraid of Hercules. After helping Ares with his
plots one too many times, Hercules had personally explained to Morpheus
what was likely to happen if he did it again. 

 Iolaus knew one thing for certain. He sure as Tartarus wasn't sleeping
anymore tonight. 

 *** 

 The next morning they were walking along the wide river bank, heading
toward the village. The sun was finally starting to break through the
clouds and the wind was fresh, the broad sweep of the shallow river
gleaming in the watery light. But the forest started at the edge of the
river flat and covered the gentle slopes, and the shadows were still thick
under the trees. Hercules noticed Iolaus staring with concentrated
intensity in that direction and frowned, following his gaze. "Something
out there?" he asked. 

 "Huh?" Iolaus looked up absently, the wind blowing the hair into his
eyes. He had his sword and bow slung over his shoulder, and was wearing
his threadbare himation over his leathers. "Oh no, I was just...thinking."


 Hercules gave him a sideways smile. "That's new." He ducked and twisted
sideways, using the packs he was carrying to fend off the predicted swat
to the head. 

 They walked on for another few steps, then Iolaus said, "Hercules." 

 "Hmm?" 

 "Is there something you haven't told me?" 

 Hercules looked at him, startled by the question. Iolaus' expression was
serious, and a little worried. "No. You know as much as I do. Liatres'
message didn't say anything else except what I told you--" 

 "Not about this." Iolaus shook his head, pressing his lips together.
"About what happened when I died." He seemed to consider that for a
moment. Then he added belatedly, "The last time I died." 

 Hercules stared, surprised. "The last time-- All right." Iolaus usually
didn't bring this up. He nodded, saying, "I think I've told you
everything. What do you want to know about?" 

 "Uh...." Iolaus hesitated. He had had a pretty bad night, but when it
came down to it.... I can't ask him this, he thought, frustrated. In the
daylight, all those dark worries suddenly seemed strange, and a little
crazy. You had a nightmare. It's different from the others, that's all.
You're nuts for letting it bother you. He was probably dreaming about
crazy Morrigan nearly getting him killed by the druid sorcerer, mixing
that up with what Hercules had told him about fighting Dahak in the
temple. Hey, that's got to be it. It was so obvious he halted abruptly,
staring into the distance. Why else would the other Iolaus be there? He
wasn't even in this world yet when Dahak was in Corinth. But he had been
there when Morrigan had come to the farm to set her little trap, to prove
to Hercules that Iolaus was Dahak, or whatever it was she had meant to
prove. He clapped himself in the forehead, exasperated at not realizing it
before. 

 Hercules was watching him with a bemused expression. "What are you
doing?" 

 "Nothing," Iolaus said in relief. "Never mind, I figured it out." 

 "Okay." Hercules lifted his brows. "That was easy." He threw a thoughtful
look at him as they started to walk again. "Is this about that nightmare
you had?" 

 "Yeah, but it's just--" Iolaus hesitated, one breath away from pouring
out the whole story of both nightmares, to see what Hercules thought. 

 But someone hailed them from ahead and looking up, Iolaus saw the scatter
of huts on the high ground overlooking the river, and he forgot about it
as the first of the villagers came out to greet them. 

 *** 

 The village was even smaller than Iolaus had expected, just a collection
of battered huts and ragged kitchen gardens, with hens scratching on the
pathways and goats grazing everywhere. A few flatboats were drawn up along
the riverbank and a couple of women were doing their spinning and weaving
out in the intermittent sunshine. Smoke drifted up from hearth fires and
he could smell bread baking; despite the ramshackle look of everything,
the place seemed content and healthy. 

 A swarm of muddy children had followed them up the path, staring in
fascination at Iolaus' sword and bow, and at Hercules in general. The
headman Berias had come out to shoo off the curious crowd and invited the
two warriors into his hut. 

 Now they sat in the front room, with Berias on the only stool and
Hercules and Iolaus sitting by the central hearth, the fire driving off
the damp and warming the cold room. "We've counted twenty-seven
disappearances in the past month," Berias said, leaning on his staff. His
long hair was completely gray-white and his craggy face was deeply
worried. "This village and the three to the south and west." 

 Several of the village elders had followed them in to listen, and one
woman whose name was Thene added, "I say there's more before that. There
were at least two or three people missing in the month before this one." 

 "But none before that?" Iolaus asked, twisting around to face her. Her
face was handsome rather than pretty and she looked young to be an elder
at first glance, but in the firelight caught glints of gray in her blond
hair. 

 "None to remark on." Thene shook her head, biting her lip. "At first it
was young people, with no ties here, or older folks who had always kept to
themselves. We put it down to just them wanting to move on." 

 Iolaus knew what she meant. Young people could get fed up with their
neighbors or families and leave; it was pretty much what he had done
himself as a teenager. Others could go off with a lover or just decide to
live in another village somewhere else, without bothering to tell anyone.
But for that many to vanish in such a short time, there had to be another
reason. A very bad reason. "It's just adults, no children missing?" He
stopped himself just in time from adding "yet." But looking around at the
grim faces, he thought they had all heard it anyway. 

 "No one younger than sixteen or so," one of the men answered, shifting
uncomfortably. "I know we should have sent for help before this, but there
was no bodies, no odd tracks, no sign of anything...you know, out of the
ordinary." 

 Berias nodded, his brow creased with anxiety. "And it's only been in the
past few weeks that it started taking people who everyone agreed had no
reason to go of their own will. Men with wives and families, and women
with children or elders to take care of. People who seemed happy here.
They go in the middle of the night, if they're alone, or in the day when
everyone is busy elsewhere. And they don't take anything, not food or
blankets or their winter clothes or anything else that we can tell." He
gestured, looking helpless. "We sent to King Liatres for help fourteen
days ago, and I wish we'd done it the first time we felt a suspicion that
something was truly wrong. We thought we could look about for the culprit
ourselves, that what we had was some lone traveler gone mad and preying on
us. But we found nothing. And it just gets worse, faster and faster." 

 Iolaus felt a chill creeping up his back. These were isolated villages,
used to taking care of their own problems, and there were enough hunters
among them who would have been able to find a mortal outlaw. This was
putting his stupid nightmares back into perspective, that was certain. 

 Hercules had been listening in concentrated silence, his brows drawn
together. "Has anyone disappeared from the other side of the river?" he
asked suddenly. 

 Iolaus lifted his brows. It would narrow the search substantially. Berias
frowned, considering, and looked around the room to consult the others.
"Not that I've heard. It's just been the villages on this side." 

 There was more discussion, but the elders really didn't know much more
that could help them. The meeting broke up and Thene, who had been one of
the first to be alarmed by the disappearances, went to get the list of the
missing villagers she had put together. Walking out to stand on the edge
of the low bluff that overlooked the broad shallow valley, Hercules and
Iolaus had a chance to talk privately. Iolaus grimaced, shaking his head.
"With no tracks and no bodies, this isn't going to be easy." 

 Clouds were darkening the sky again, though the sun still shone on the
river further down the valley. The cool wind that pulled at their hair had
the scent of rain in it. Hercules rested a hand on Iolaus' shoulder,
squeezing absently as he frowned in thought. "I haven't come across
anything like this before. I'd say it could be a blue swirly doorway,
trapping people, but it doesn't quite fit." 

 Iolaus nodded grimly. "Everyone would have disappeared when they headed
off to a specific part of the forest to hunt or pick berries or something.
After nearly thirty people missing, it would be obvious where the thing
was." 

 His expression troubled, Hercules looked off toward the river, where
women and children were moving along the bank, collecting reeds for
baskets. "I really don't like the fact that it started with people who
wouldn't be missed quickly," he said thoughtfully. "That seems to show
it...knows what it's doing. Who it's taking." 

 Iolaus didn't like that either. Smart monsters were always worse. He
shrugged ruefully. "I'd feel better about this if it was a nice easy
hydra." 

 "Me too." Hercules took a deep breath. "Let's get started." 

 Thene brought them her list, carefully written out on a sheet of
parchment, and stood watching as they made their way into the forest. "Be
careful," she called softly after them. 

 *** 

 Hours later, following a faint footpath under the trees, Hercules wasn't
ready to admit defeat, but he was ready to admit extreme frustration. They
were in the low forested hills above the river, where the outlying
homesteads were. The sun, now completely hidden behind gray clouds, was
beginning to sink to the horizon and they had no more idea of what had
happened to the missing villagers than they had this morning. He glanced
down at Iolaus, saying without much hope, "Any ideas?" 

 "Hardly." Iolaus snorted, sounding disgusted at their lack of progress.
"Whatever this thing is, it knows how to cover its trail." 

 Hercules agreed. He had started out the day believing that no matter how
hard and how carefully the villagers had searched, that between the two of
them he and Iolaus would find tracks or remains that would throw some
light on the situation. That hadn't happened. 

 They had visited all the places where the vanished people had lived,
starting out at the lonely hermit's hut where the first disappearance had
taken place. The occupant had been an irascible old man who had wandered
into the area one day and moved into the abandoned hut. The villagers all
believed strongly in taking care of each other, especially of the older
folk living alone; the isolation of the villages made that a necessity.
But the old man hadn't gotten along with anybody, rebuffing attempts at
friendship and charity. When the locals had noticed that he hadn't shown
up at the past few market days to throw rotten vegetables, a headman had
gone out to the hut to make sure he wasn't dead or injured. He had found
the hut deserted, the garden overgrown, and no sign of the man anywhere
around. They had assumed he had just drifted out of the area again.
Hercules and Iolaus had searched the hut and the land around it
thoroughly, and ended up learning nothing. Hercules had shaken his head
over the remains of the extensive herb garden; with such a variety of
plants, with herbs for healing, meditation, and everything else, the man
might have been a healer or a priest once. From what the villagers had
said, he had gone a little mental and might just have wandered off on his
own. It was such a waste. 

 The last house they had visited was the home of a widow potter who lived
with her children and her sister. They had come home from market and
fields two days ago to find their dinner warm in a clay pot by the fire
and no sign of the sister. As Iolaus had pointed out, presumably if the
woman had been so sick of her family that she had left without saying
goodbye, she would have gone that morning as soon as she was alone, and
not bothered to spend all day doing the washing and to make dinner for her
despised relations. Those relations had begged Hercules to find the
sister, and after a day of looking at empty huts and untended fields and
gardens whose owners were probably dead, that had been the last straw. He
shook his head, letting his breath out. "The best guess is that it's
something that takes human form and convinces them to go with it." 

 Iolaus nodded. They had come up with that one early in the day. At least
they knew it wasn't a god playing tricks; the villages all had shrines to
Artemis, and she wasn't known for luring off mortals. Or eating them. "It
must be damn convincing. We know some of them went in the middle of the
night, and you'd think the villagers would be too suspicious to fall for
that. Especially since they've known about the disappearances for a month
now. Unless--" He looked thoughtful, hitching his sword up on his
shoulder. "It takes the form of someone they know." 

 Hercules nodded, still frowning absently in thought. Also frustratingly,
the creature, whatever it was, had not made the slightest attempt on
either of them, despite the fact that they had been tramping back and
forth through what seemed to be its prime hunting territory. Finding the
damn monster wasn't usually a problem. He grimaced in frustration. "We
need to camp out here, see if it'll make a try for us." Besides, it was
getting dark and he could hear Iolaus' stomach growling. 

 Iolaus paused to study the terrain. "Let's go further out. We'll make a
better target." He chose a path down the hill, deeper into the shadowy
forest. "Of course," he added over his shoulder, "If you're right and it
knows who it's taking, it's going to know we're after it." 

 "I know," Hercules agreed, his lips twisted wryly. "Our reputation is
getting out of hand." 

 *** 

 They made camp in a small clearing, deep in the forest. Iolaus had made
an effort to pick the least defensible spot he could find, surrounded by
overhanging beeches, the dark forest stretching off in all directions. 

 They made a fire and ate the food the villagers had given them that
morning, bread, cheese, olives and dried mutton. Dusting the crumbs from
his hands, Hercules said in frustration, "What I'm wondering is why this
thing is here at all." 

 Still chewing, Iolaus shrugged. "Why not here?" 

 Hercules shook his head, looking out into the quiet dark again. "When you
think about it, the villagers realized pretty quickly that something was
wrong, even though this thing was so careful no one saw any trace of it.
Why did it pick a spot where even a few disappearances would be noticed?
Why not a big city like Athens, where people come and go all the time,
where there are thieves and beggars no one would notice missing, where it
could move from neighborhood to neighborhood and take people right and
left and no one would be able to tell, or see a pattern, for months and
months?" 

 Iolaus considered that a moment, finishing off the last of the bread.
"Maybe there's already one in Athens, and no one knows yet." 

 Hercules lowered his brows. For someone who normally had a fairly
cheerful disposition, Iolaus was adept at seeing the worst case scenario.
"Thanks. That helps a lot." 

 "Okay, fine." Iolaus wiped his mouth on his gauntlet and tugged his
himation up higher on his shoulders against the damp chill. "Maybe it's
something that has to live in an isolated place. We could be wrong about
it being able to take human form. It could be a flying monster, like a
harpy, that grabs people and takes them far away to eat. Someone steps
outside, day or night, and bam. No tracks, no bodies." 

 Hercules eyed him. He didn't want to admit it was a good theory, but....
"Why hasn't anybody seen it?" 

 Iolaus thought about it, frowning seriously. "It's invisible." 

 They looked at each other for a moment, then up at the night sky. 

 "Right," Hercules said after a time, still warily studying the dark
clouds. "I'll take the first watch." 

 *** 

 It didn't take Iolaus any time to fall asleep, despite the possibility of
either a shape-changing killer or a flying man eating monster in the area.
He had had little sleep the night before, they had covered a great deal of
frustrating ground today, the forest floor was soft with spongy moss, and
his stomach was comfortably full. With Hercules on watch, he curled up
near the fire, his scabbarded sword in one hand, and slid quickly into
sleep. 

 And fell headlong into another dream. His first thought was, Oh,
Tartarus, not again.... 

 He slammed face first into a cold stone wall and slid down it, stunned.
Catching himself on the floor, he looked up with a bleary glare. "What
now?" 

 The two men standing over him were only vaguely familiar. They were both
big, burly, dressed in rough stained leather and plaids and one wore a
tarnished belt buckle with a sinuous Eirish design. This was a big square
corridor, shadowy and torch-lit. Morrigan shoved past the men, telling
them, "Hurry, you heard what Hercules said." 

 Both men reached down, each one gripping an arm and hauling Iolaus to his
feet. "Ow," Iolaus muttered, swaying. He looked down, saw the wound in his
chest had healed to a raw red scar. Well, that's an improvement. He was
still dressed in the flimsy black silk; it was still useless against the
cold and the shirt kept trying to slide off his shoulder. "If I was Dahak,
you really think I'd be putting up with this shit?" 

 Morrigan laughed and didn't answer. That airy little laugh would have
been annoying enough at any time; when you had had a fatal chest wound and
everybody was acting like you were Dahak, it was enough to make you crazy.
And it was even more frustrating that Iolaus couldn't remember why he was
so angry with her. And why am I dreaming about her? This is still a dream,
right? It was starting to feel awfully real. 

 He grimaced as the men jerked him into motion, dragging him down the
corridor. Squinting, he saw a doorway ahead. It was small, barely his
height, opening into a pitch dark room. He saw square stone blocks piled
beside it and knew in his guts what it was. "That's a tomb." He tried to
plant his feet but the men hauled him forward. "Morrigan!" 

 She didn't look back at him, and the sudden realization of why made him
angry. "You're not answering me because you want me to think I'm dead?" he
said to her unresponsive back. "He didn't tell you to put me in there." He
twisted around, shouting "Hercules!" 

 His voice echoed down the empty corridor. Iolaus cursed under his breath,
suddenly more angry than anything else. "Fine. Let's do it this way." He
twisted an arm free, slammed a fist into one man's face and knee-capped
the other with a kick. That one went down, and Iolaus snatched his
swordhilt as he fell, dragging the weapon free of the scabbard. 

 A sword came at him from the firelit dark of the corridor and Iolaus
parried it, then took the man out with a deep cut to the chest. As his
opponent dropped like a rock Iolaus smashed his swordhilt into the head of
the other man who was still struggling to get up. Stepping lightly back
out of reach, Iolaus eyed his sprawled opponents. None looked likely to
get up anytime soon. 

 Morrigan stepped into view, her sword at ready. Smiling grimly, she said,
"I knew you'd show us what you truly were." 

 Iolaus felt his lips peel back into a feral grin. "Yeah, I can tell
you're all broken up about it. But here's the thing, Champion of Justice:
Dahak never gave you a moment's thought. I'm the one you need to worry
about." 

 She snarled and lunged at him. He parried the first few cuts, gauging her
as an opponent. He could tell she had supernatural strength, and that
would have been a problem for a man who hadn't spent his entire life
sparring with the strongest demigod in the world. That should be a change
for Morrigan; he knew she liked her mortals helpless. 

 He ducked under a cut that should have taken his head off and came up
inside her guard. Slamming the flat of her blade into the wall with his
body, he punched her in the face with his swordhilt. 

 He stepped back as she went down, watching her grope for her sword. She
was bleeding from a cut lip, glaring up at him. "Take your time," he told
her. "I can wait." 

 "Iolaus." 

 He spun around, staring. Standing a few paces down the corridor was
Hercules. Taking a sharp breath in relief, he lowered the sword. "Herc. I
knew you wouldn't leave me here." 

 *** 

 Hercules never fell asleep on watch. He needed sleep as much as anybody,
but he had realized early on that he could put it off for a few days if he
had to, without the ill effects a mortal would feel. He didn't enjoy it,
but there were a lot of things he had to do that he didn't particularly
enjoy. Staying awake for half the night should have been easy. 

 He had been sitting cross-legged near the fire, tending it and keeping an
eye on the dark forest around them. The next thing he knew, he was
standing in a large torchlit stone chamber. He stared around, baffled. The
room looked as if it had been hacked right out of the rock; there were
figures carved on the walls but they were too faint to make any sense out
of. There was a large stone altar at the far end, but no statues, no
offerings, no banners or painted symbols to indicate what god it belonged
to. 

 "I fell asleep, this is a dream," he muttered aloud. "I can't believe I
did this. I wasn't that tired." If Iolaus woke up and found Hercules
sleeping on the job.... He'll never let me live it down, he thought in
exasperation.  But it's odd. I never do this. "Something's not right." He
looked around again, frustrated. "I really need to wake up. And why do I
keep talking to myself?" 

 "Hercules!" 

 "Gah!" Hercules whipped around, staring. Morrigan had appeared at his
elbow without making a sound. He would have sworn there was no way she
could have crossed the large chamber without him noticing. That a
heartbeat ago the place had been empty. "Where did you come from?" he
demanded. Looking past her, he saw there were other people in the room
now. Jason, Nebula, Zarathustra. He remembered he didn't trust
Zarathustra; someone he trusted had told him something disturbing about
the man, but in this dream he couldn't remember what it was. There were
others there too, men who looked like mercenaries, dressed in rough
plaids. Eirish men. He looked down at Morrigan again, his eyes narrowing
suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" 

 She ignored both questions, gazing up at him earnestly. "You're back.
Good. Everything is ready. You must try to kill Dahak again." 

 She turned, pointing, and across the room there was suddenly a huge
creature, like some large distorted insect. Crouched on several haunches,
it half-lifted itself, hissing and snarling, waving clawed serrated limbs.


 "Oh, no." Hercules shook his head, disgusted. "Dahak's dead and I am not
going through this again, even in a dream." He looked around, frowning,
and saw an arched doorway nearby, a dark corridor beyond it. "I'm
leaving." 

 Morrigan stared at him, appalled. "You can't leave! You have to try
again! You have to kill Dahak! I'm certain this time it will work." 

 Yeah, you're certain of a lot of things. "It's just a dream," he told
her, but he knew she wouldn't listen to him. Why should dream-Morrigan be
any more reasonable than real-Morrigan? "Look at that!" He pointed across
the room. 

 As she turned to look Hercules headed for the archway, moving quickly and
quietly. He was out of sight before she turned back. That was easy. Now to
get out of here. Occasional torches lit the way and he paused in an
intersection of corridors, looking around. He didn't remember the temple
Dahak had built in Corinth being this large and confusing, but in dreams
things were always large and confusing. 

 There was a faint patter of footsteps behind him and he turned in time to
see the Jester appear around a corner. The man slid to a halt, eyeing him
nervously. 

 "It's all right," Hercules said, trying to sound reassuring. "Hey, were
you with me when I got here? You wouldn't happen to know how I did that?
Got here, that is." 

 The other Iolaus hesitated, then gestured helplessly. "I don't think so.
I don't remember how I got here." 

 "Right." Hercules tapped his fingers on his belt. "I was afraid of that."


 "I think...." the other Iolaus looked vastly uncomfortable, as if about
to suggest something he didn't think Hercules would like. "I think this is
a dream." 

 Hercules nodded absently. "Oh, I know it's a dream." He gestured in
annoyance. "Of course, it's a dream. So I don't even know why I'm
bothering to look for the way out. I should just wake up." He let his
breath out in frustration. "So why is that not happening?" 

 The other Iolaus looked even more worried. "So you're having a dream, and
I'm having a dream, and it's the same dream?" 

 "That's...really odd, isn't it." Hercules grimaced, shaking his head.
Something's not right. "If we're both having the same dream, why isn't
Iolaus here?" That made sense, even if it was only by the nonsensical
logic of dreams. "And Morrigan said I was supposed to kill Dahak...." He
really didn't like this. He started back the way he had come, the other
Iolaus skipping hastily out of his way. "I need to find out what this is
about." 

 *** 

 Iolaus looked around, realizing Morrigan and the other men were no longer
sprawled bleeding on the corridor floor. It was just he and Hercules.
Hercules held out a hand to him, saying, "Come with me." 

 Iolaus didn't move. There was something about the gesture that struck a
chord of memory. An unpleasant chord of memory. Someone had tricked him
like this, sometime before, but.... His head was suddenly throbbing with
pain and he couldn't think. "Damn, ow!" He stumbled and pressed a hand to
his head, convinced his brain was about to leak out. 

 Hercules stepped up to him, taking the sword out of his hand and tossing
it aside. "Hurry, we're running out of time." 

 "Right." Iolaus didn't resist as the demigod caught his arm, towing him
down the corridor. "This is about the thing? The thing we're fighting?
There is a thing, right?" 

 The pain in his head was fading a little but he still couldn't seem to
think straight. He saw Hercules glance down at him, his face shadowed by
the shifting torchlight. Hercules said, "Yes, that's what it's about. We
have to get out of here." 

 "It's a creature, something that takes human form, or flies." Iolaus was
relieved to dredge up even that spotty memory. It felt right, it felt like
something that had really happened. They reached a turn in the corridor,
where a greater number of torches lit the way and Iolaus winced at the
brighter light. "Oh, just so you know, I was going to kill Morrigan, but
she started it...." He let the words trail off. They were at the arched
entrance of a large chamber, lit by hundreds of torches. The walls were
marked with faded carvings, but it was oddly bare for a temple. At the far
end was an altar stone, stained dark with dried blood. "Why are we here?"
he asked, startled. 

 He staggered as Hercules tightened his grip on his arm and hauled him
inside. "Hey!" Iolaus objected, dragging his feet, more confused than
alarmed. "You said we had to get out of here; this isn't the way out." 

 The others were suddenly there again, Jason, Nebula, Morrigan,
Zarathustra, others he didn't recognize. Hercules had dragged him nearly
across the room to the altar before it suddenly dawned on Iolaus what this
was about. Horrified, he wrenched away. "No! I'm not Dahak!" 

 The blow snapped his head back and he dropped to his knees, stunned. His
vision went black on the edges and he swayed over on his side. Hercules
reached down for him, scooping him off the floor. 

 *** 

 Hercules ran around the corner and came to a halt, swearing. Where the
archway had been was a solid stone wall, blocking off the large chamber.
He tapped his fist against it lightly, making sure it wasn't an illusion,
but it felt real enough. "Iolaus!" he shouted. "Are you back there?" 

 "I'm right here." 

 He glanced back at the other Iolaus, who had followed at a safe distance
and was watching him with trepidation. "No, not you, him!" 

 "Oh, right." 

 I really need to wake up, Hercules thought sourly. He raised his voice to
an urgent bellow. "Iolaus! Can you hear me?" Then faintly, from the other
side of the thick stone, he heard a frightened yell. "That's it," Hercules
snarled. He fell back a pace, drawing back a fist, and punched the wall. 

 *** 

 Iolaus' back hit the cold stone of the altar and the first manacle
snapping around his wrist jolted him back to consciousness. He twisted,
tried to throw himself off the altar, knowing his weight might jerk the
chain out of the stone. But his body wouldn't cooperate, his limbs
sluggishly refusing to move. Instead of a wild scramble off the altar, all
he did was roll onto his side before Hercules caught his free arm. 

 He slammed Iolaus down onto his back, locking down his other wrist.
Iolaus writhed, kicked, shouted, but he was trapped and Hercules easily
caught his legs, locking his ankles into the manacles. 

 Hercules stepped away then, out of Iolaus' vision. Torn between rage and
terror, Iolaus fought the chains. His nose was bloody from the blow that
had knocked him nearly senseless, and it was hard to breathe. "I'm not
Dahak, Dahak's dead! Jason!" He twisted his head around, craning his neck,
but he couldn't see the others anymore. Screaming wouldn't help; he could
hear somebody yelling, distant enough to be on the other side of one of
the walls. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and saw Hercules standing over
him again, holding a knife. 

 Iolaus stared at the blade, mesmerized. He whispered, "You can't do
this." He heard a crash of stone breaking, a wall collapsing, then-- 

 *** 

 Iolaus jolted awake, gasping, curling into a ball around the pain in his
chest. He caught sight of Hercules leaning over him and flinched. His body
reacted without conscious thought, sending him scrambling a few feet away.


 Startled, Hercules held up both hands, palms out. "It's all right, it's
me." 

 "I know that," Iolaus said, breathing hard. His legs were tangled up in
the blanket and he kicked it away, still braced to move. It was night and
they were outside, in a clearing in a dark forest. The fire still burned
and the strong scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, the sharp chill in the
air, told him this was real. He was still holding his scabbarded sword and
he tightened his grip on it; it felt solid too. But the dream and reality
were so mixed up, he couldn't tell what had happened where. 

 "It was a dream," Hercules said, watching him worriedly. He was crouched
a few feet away, his hair falling forward into his eyes, his shirt and
vest stained with sweat. 

 Iolaus wiped an arm across his face and realized his nose wasn't
bleeding. That it didn't hurt. That the tearing pain in his chest was
gone. He took a deep breath. "Okay," he agreed cautiously. 

 Hercules saw with relief that Iolaus had started to relax. He looked less
likely to bolt into the woods, at any rate. Hercules said, "I was there
too. I don't know what--" Iolaus tensed again, every inch of his body
braced for flight. "Wait, wait, wait," Hercules said hastily. "It was a
dream, a nightmare." 

 "Right." Iolaus eased up into a crouch. His heart was still pounding,
every nerve in his body urging him to run. It took an effort of will to
stay where he was, just a few paces away from Hercules. 

 Hercules took a deep breath. "Look, it tried to make me think I was
back...fighting Dahak. When it was in Corinth. But all the details were
wrong, the temple didn't look the same, and Morrigan had those hired thugs
she brought over here from Eire with her. What did it do to you?" 

 Iolaus still eyed him warily, but this was all starting to make a weird
kind of sense. "It...You cut my heart out. Or you were going to." 

 Hercules stared, a cold wave of shock washing over him. "That's what I
heard." I knew it was bad, but.... He saw the expression on Iolaus' face
and said urgently, "That wasn't me. That wasn't my dream, I walked out of
the altar chamber and then I couldn't get back in. I was with the other
Iolaus--" 

 "Oh, of course you were," Iolaus snarled. That Hercules was hanging
around with the other Iolaus while all this was going on was just freaking
typical, but mostly what he felt was a profound relief. He shoved himself
up to sit with his back against a tree, rubbing his eyes and passing a
hand over his face. He remembered the other dreams now. "I saw the other
Iolaus in a dream too, last night. It was the same temple, Morrigan was
there--" 

 "We were in the same dream." Hercules shook his head, pushed his hair out
of his eyes, trying to force his mind past the image of what had been
going on behind that wall. "But you woke up before...it happened?" 

 Iolaus snorted. "Barely." 

 "And this was the same dream you had before?" Hercules demanded,
incredulous. No wonder he kept looking at me funny. "You should have said
something." 

 Iolaus glared at him. "It wasn't this same thing, it wasn't as bad." He
gestured in frustration. "But it was definitely related to this. It was
like I was seeing different parts of the same dream. Like it was building
up to this." He rubbed his arms briskly; the rush of fear and anger was
starting to fade, leaving him chilled. "So what's doing this to us? Is it
something to do with me being dead?" 

 "I don't think this is about us." Hercules shook his head. "What would
have happened if you hadn't woken?" 

 "It would have killed me for real, like when someone is pulled into the
dreamworld?" Iolaus sat forward, frowning. "Wait, you think this is what's
taking the villagers?" 

 Hercules nodded, his expression intent. "They were all alone, some went
at night, some went during the day--" 

 Iolaus swore under his breath. He could see it now. "The potter's sister.
She'd finished the washing, she'd made dinner, she was waiting for the
others to come home...." 

 "She took a nap," Hercules finished. He looked away, taking a deep
breath. "It must see into people's thoughts, their fears. Maybe that's
what it feeds on." 

 Iolaus gestured in frustration. "So where do the people go? And what
could do this?" 

 Hercules shook his head, his expression grim. "I don't have a clue." 

 *** 

 It was still several hours before dawn, but the potter's family didn't
seem to mind being hauled out of bed by a knock on the door. In the front
room of their little house, the youngest boy built up the fire while the
potter and her eldest son and daughter sat at the worn plank table with
Hercules and Iolaus. Hercules was trying to be careful not to give them
false hope; but after watching the local hunters search fruitlessly for
any trace of the missing people, the fact that someone actually had
questions to ask must seem like a revelation to them. 

 The potter, whose name was Laetia, pushed a strand of her graying hair
back and shook her head. "Helene didn't say anything about any strange
dreams, before-- Before it happened. As we said, she mostly stays home and
takes care of the house while the girls and I are at the market and the
boys are working in the fields for Priam." 

 Hercules kept his expression noncommittal, though he inwardly winced and
he saw Iolaus look away. Laetia still spoke of her sister in the present
tense. That's what makes these disappearances a living Tartarus. Not
knowing if their friends or family members were dead or trapped somewhere
was going to drive these people mad. He knew how he would have felt right
now if he had woken to find Iolaus vanished without a trace. "That's the
problem," he told them, "I'm not sure this is something she'd mention to
you." After all, Iolaus hadn't. This creature might be adept at picking a
scenario for the dream that the victim would be reluctant to talk about. 

 Iolaus leaned forward, saying, "Do you remember if she acted strangely?
If she got up much earlier than usual, or if she seemed reluctant to go to
sleep? Anything like that?" He hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he
felt. He had searched for tracks by firelight around their campsite, and
Hercules had not endeared himself to his partner during that process.
First he had told Iolaus that it was useless to look for tracks because
there wouldn't be any, then he had hopefully watched Iolaus look for
tracks and said "Did you find anything?" about four hundred times. The
only thing that had kept Iolaus from throwing something at his head was
the fact that he knew Hercules hated dealing with an intangible he
couldn't fight as much as Iolaus did. If these people could at least
confirm that Helene had been plagued by something, it would be better than
the void of information they had now. 

 Laetia bit her lip, thinking, while the older children just looked
confused. The youngest daughter, sitting on a stool near the fire, said
suddenly, "I woke up in the middle of the night--" 

 Hercules and Iolaus both turned toward her with such alacrity that she
halted in confusion, looked down at the bare toes peeping out from under
her tunic and blushed. 

 "Go on," Iolaus prompted gently, "You woke up in the middle of the night
and she was awake?" 

 Her eyes still on her toes, the girl nodded. "She was crying. She said
she had a bad dream." 

 "Crying?" Laetia turned to her, startled. "Why didn't you tell us about
it?" 

 The girl looked up uncertainly. "She made me promise not to." 

 "When was this, do you remember?" Hercules asked her carefully. 

 "I'm not sure." The little girl bit her lip, thinking. 

 "What happened the next day?" Hercules suggested. It had been a long
time, but he remembered how to get time estimates out of children too
young to pay much attention to what day it was. "Did anyone come over to
visit, did anything different happen?" 

 The girl kicked her feet, thinking that one over. "It was the night
before Priam's cow had the calf." 

 The older boy drew a sharp breath. "That was the day before aunt Helene
disappeared." He looked urgently from Iolaus to Hercules. "What does it
mean?" 

 Hercules sat back, shaking his head. "We don't know yet." He threw a look
at Iolaus, to make sure they were both thinking the same thing. "We need
to talk to some of the others first." 

 *** 

 "So it either creeps up on us -- or doesn't creep, or it does creep and
it doesn't have any feet because I can't find any damn tracks -- and uses
the dreamworld to get in our heads, and we can't see it or hear it-- How
are we going to kill it?" Iolaus demanded, frustrated. 

 It was near dawn and the torches lit around the village's little
dirt-packed plaza smoked in the damp air. They had spoken to two other
families and found it was the same: both people who had vanished had
admitted to strange dreams. Now the potter's family and the families of
the elders were spreading the word to warn everyone about the dreams, but
Iolaus wasn't sure if it would do much good. They could all only stay
awake so long. 

 Hercules stopped pacing to stare pensively into the dark. "It has to be
something from the dreamworld." He lifted a brow, adding grimly, "We've
seen Morpheus make creatures like that before." 

 "Yeah." Iolaus scratched at the scar on his chest, thinking it over.
Morpheus had let Ares and other gods use him in the past, usually in some
effort to trap Hercules in the dreamworld. "So you could kill--" Iolaus
realized some other god might be listening and rapidly shifted that to,
"--ask Morpheus if he knows anything about this." 

 Hercules paused thoughtfully. "Uh huh. If Morpheus was involved in this
in any way, it would make me very, very angry. And Artemis protects these
villages, and she wouldn't like it either." 

 They both waited hopefully a moment, looking around, but the god of
dreams failed to appear with either excuses or denials. Hercules let out a
frustrated breath and started pacing again. "But why does it only take the
villagers on this side of the river? A dreamworld creature could take
anyone, anywhere." 

 "A dreamworld creature that has a limited range. Or that can't cross
water. But also something that's only been here for the past few weeks."
Iolaus looked out over the dark river, barely visible below the bluff. He
felt trapped, as trapped as he had in the dream, where he was about to be
killed for something he hadn't done, where no one, even Hercules, would
listen to him. Except it didn't kill me. The first and second dreams
seemed to imply that he had had his heart cut out at least once already.
But in the dream I know I'm not Dahak. I know they're wrong. He rubbed his
eyes, gritty from interrupted sleep. "And it made you fall asleep. That's
not good." 

 Hercules nodded grimly. "I wasn't expecting it." He didn't intend to be
caught off guard again. He threw a worried look at Iolaus. It was hard to
tell in the flicker of firelight, but he thought Iolaus looked drawn and
exhausted. "It seems more interested in you than me. It showed me a
monster that was supposedly Dahak, but it didn't try to kill me. And it's
been working on you for the past two days." 

 Iolaus shook his head, considering it. "I don't know. It might want to
take us out one at a time." He looked up at Hercules, frustrated. "Are you
absolutely sure you didn't have any weird dreams the past couple of
nights?" 

 Hercules lifted an ironic brow. "I dreamed Salmoneus was trying to get me
into a business selling Trojan war souvenirs in Parthia. I don't think
that came from our creature." 

 "Guess not." Iolaus found himself yawning. He caught Hercules watching
him worriedly and grimaced, trading a grim look with the demigod. Oh yeah,
this is going to be fun. Hercules could go without sleep for a few days
with no ill effects; Iolaus couldn't. "Maybe we're right that this thing
has a limited range, and it couldn't get into your head until you got
closer. Because you're a demigod." 

 "Maybe." Hercules looked thoughtful. "Look, in the dream I talked to the
other Iolaus. I don't think that was part of the dream, I think he was
really there." 

 Iolaus rolled his eyes. He was considering making a rude noise when
Hercules added, "It's the only conversation I've ever had in a dream that
still made sense when I woke up." He started pacing again as he warmed to
his theory. "And you and he have a connection that has absolutely nothing
to do with Dahak, but he never got pulled in to any of your other
nightmares. I think this thing went after you and accidentally pulled him
in too." 

 Iolaus frowned, reluctantly considering it. "In the second dream, he was
the only one who would look at me at first." He flung his arms wide,
exasperated. "Damn it, we don't know if it lives here or the dreamworld,
we don't know if it's human or a monster." 

 Hercules paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. "We know we
can look for it in the dreamworld. Or I can." 

 Iolaus frowned at him. "What do you mean? You're going into the
dreamworld after it?" Iolaus shook his head, incredulous. "You can't do
that! That's-- That's-- And you're not going without me. And you can't do
it anyway, there's no shrine to Morpheus for miles, and--" 

 "I know how to make Morpheus' dream powder," Hercules told him. 

 "What?" 

 "Cheiron showed me how, years ago." 

 "When?" 

 "When Ares used Morpheus to trap you and Jason and the others in-- Will
you stop it?" Hercules glared at him. He knew Iolaus was playing for time,
trying to think of a good argument against the plan. "There's no way you
don't remember that." 

 Iolaus folded his arms, fuming. The dream powder Kheper and Asclepias
made from scarab beetles was different: it slammed you on your back,
showed you what your dreams meant, then slapped you awake again. Morpheus'
dream powder actually let you enter the dreamworld; it gave you some
control over it, but it was too easy for something to draw your physical
body in after you, to trap you there forever. And even if your physical
body stayed out of the dreamworld, a mortal injury you took there could
kill you. "I didn't know Cheiron showed you how to make that stuff. What
was he thinking?" 

 Hercules wasn't going to dignify that one with an answer. "The village
healer should have everything I need to make it. And I'll need you to
watch over me while I'm in the dreamworld." 

 Iolaus shook his head, settling firmly into stubborn mode. "I don't like
this." 

 "No, really? I couldn't tell." Letting his breath out, Hercules took his
shoulders, making Iolaus face him. As Iolaus frowned up at him through the
fringe of tangled blond hair, he said patiently, "I have to be the one to
go after it. From what happened to Helene and the others, we know it only
takes a few nights' worth of dreams to do whatever it is that it does --
you've had three dreams already. I've only had the one, and it wasn't
exactly a big success. If you go, it'll be like walking into a ghidra's
mouth." 

 Iolaus pulled away, flinging his arms up. "That's what it's always like!"


 Ignoring that valid objection, Hercules planted his hands on his hips and
said pointedly, "And I want you out here. If this thing does have a
physical presence in this world and it shows up while I'm not in my
body--" 

 "Yeah, yeah." Iolaus dragged a hand through his hair. He didn't like it,
but he had to admit that it was most likely they were dealing with a
creature that moved between this world and the dreamworld. And Hercules
had a point about needing someone to guard his body, and there was no one
else he trusted to do that. "Okay, fine. It's still a lousy plan." 

 "I know that," Hercules agreed wryly. But they both knew they were
running out of time. 

 *** 

 Dawn was breaking by the time Hercules and the healer had assembled all
the ingredients for the dream powder. They were in the healer's hut, and
the old man watched Hercules carefully sort out the various herbs on the
battered workbench. He shook his head, asking, "Are you certain that's
going to do what you think it's going to do?" 

 Iolaus, pacing beside the fire, tried unsuccessfully to suppress a snort.
He was glad he wasn't the only one who thought this was a bad idea.
Unfortunately it was still the only idea. 

 Hercules' mouth quirked wryly as he added some dittany and crocus to the
stone grinding bowl, well aware of the general opinion on dream powder.
"I'm certain." 

 The old man sighed, giving Iolaus a pat on the back on his way to the
door. "Good luck." 

 "Thanks," Iolaus muttered, then found himself yawning. He caught the
concerned look Hercules threw at him and said, "I'll be fine. Just keep--"
he gestured at the dream powder "--doing that." 

 Hercules returned to his task and Iolaus went back to pacing. The hut was
small, the ceiling hung with bundles of drying plants and flowers, the
walls covered with shelves holding dozens of little pottery jars. The only
furniture was the workbench and a few stools. The hearth was small and
crude and let smoke into the room, and that combined with the pungent
odors of the healing ointments was making Iolaus' eyes water. 

 Outside, he could hear the worried murmur of voices, sleepy protests from
children, as the villagers gathered in the open area between the huts,
trying to keep each other awake. He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes,
trying to keep his mind off what would happen if this didn't work. "This
thing.... It's obviously getting the material for the dreams from us, but
it's controlling things too. There were moments when I could have changed
what was happening, but something would go wrong." He was thinking about
the sudden moment of weakness when he had tried to throw himself off the
altar to snap the manacle chain; the timing on that had been way too good.
And when the dream-Hercules had approached him, something had interfered
with his memory, making it easy to fall into the trap. "Was it doing that
to you?" 

 Hercules dusted his hands and took the pestle stone to grind the herbs
together. "I think it was trying. It moved a wall to keep me out of--" He
wasn't sure what made him look up. Some change in the air, a breath of
something else in the fragrant confines of the hut. 

 Iolaus was standing by the fire, his expression distracted. "Iolaus,"
Hercules said sharply, still with no idea what had alarmed him. "Are
you--" 

 Iolaus vanished. 

 Hercules surged to his feet and took a useless step forward. "Iolaus!" 

 There was nothing there. He swore, turning to stare around the hut.
Nothing. For a furious instant he wanted to charge outside and hunt this
thing down, but sense caught up to him a heartbeat later and he turned
back to the workbench and the dream powder. Iolaus, though he had still
been on his feet, must have been just close enough to sleep for the
creature to reach him. It took him because it knew you were close. It's
just trying to distract you. 

 His jaw set, he made himself work quickly but methodically, adding the
rest of the herbs, grinding them into the powder. Finally it was done. 

 He took a pinch of the stuff and held it under his nose, inhaling deeply.
For a moment he thought nothing was going to happen and frantically looked
at the ingredients still spread out on the table, trying to see what he
had left out. Then he felt a sudden lassitude, a weariness creeping up his
limbs, and darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. 

 He didn't feel his head hit the table. 

 *** 

 Iolaus slammed face-first into the stone floor. The thought flashed
through his mind: this isn't real, this is a-- but it faded, and there was
only the dark temple and the torchlight. They thought he was Dahak and
they were trying to kill him. He levered himself up enough to look down at
the wound in his chest. It was new and raw, the blood soaked into his torn
shirt. With a gasp he tried to shove himself upright, but hands grabbed
his arms and jerked him to his feet. 

 He shook his hair out of his eyes, finding himself facing Morrigan and at
least a dozen of the Eirish mercenaries. He bared his teeth; obviously
they weren't taking chances this time. He saw the other Iolaus, standing
behind the others and looking bewildered, but he wasn't likely to be any
help. 

 Morrigan, one eye blackened and her face bruised from their earlier
battle, grimaced and said, "Get him in there. Hurry, before he turns into
Dahak again." 

 Iolaus looked for what "in there" might be and saw a gaping black square
in the wall. The torchlight couldn't seem to penetrate the dark opening,
and the single man-sized block that closed it stood ready to be shoved
into place. The tomb, he remembered, sick. They had tried to put him in
there once before. "Are you out of your mind?" he snarled at Morrigan.
"Dahak can walk through walls." 

 "I'm not listening to your lies," she replied, teeth gritted. She jerked
her head at the men. "Go on, get him in there." 

 They shoved him forward toward the opening, more coming to help as he
kicked and fought. He heard the other Iolaus shouting frantically, "No,
you can't do this! Stop--" and Morrigan replying, "Don't try to interfere!
If it wasn't for Hercules, I'd toss you in there after him." 

 They flung him through the opening and he hit the ground, rolling across
cold stone paving. He tried to scramble to his feet but a sudden stabbing
pain in his chest sent him sprawling again. He clawed at the blocks,
gritting his teeth, his eyes watering at the pain, but he couldn't get to
his feet. The Eirish men were shoving the block into place, the light was
fading as it sunk more firmly into the doorway.... 

 As the light died the pain vanished and Iolaus was able to shove to his
feet. He threw himself against the block, but his weight was too slight to
shift it. In darkness so thick it seemed to clog his lungs, he felt for
the cracks and dug his fingers in, trying to get leverage, trying to pry
it out. It was like trying to dig through a solid stone wall. 

 Finally Iolaus slid down the block, putting his back against it. His
imagination made it hard to breathe, but it would be a long time before
the air ran out. If that even mattered. I'm not dead. I don't belong in
here, he told himself, trying to ignore the edge of desperation. And what
was the point of getting out? 

 Morrigan may be this stupid, but Hercules knows this wouldn't stop Dahak
for a heartbeat, he thought in despair. But this was a great way to
dispose of a mortal who had been somehow infected by Dahak's power, who
couldn't be killed. "I didn't betray you," he said stubbornly, though he
knew no one could hear him through the stone. "I didn't do anything wrong,
I don't deserve this." But he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.
He couldn't remember how he had gotten to this temple in the first place;
he wasn't even sure he was in Greece. How could he be certain what he had
or hadn't done? 

 He rubbed his face, feeling helpless. His eyes kept straining to see in
the absolute darkness, and it was making his head pound. There has to be a
way out. I'm not going to be stuck here forever. He knew that wasn't true
even as he thought it, but he pushed himself up and started to search the
chamber by feel. 

 There was nothing but bare walls, as far up as he could reach. It seemed
to take a long time, hours of groping around in the dark, but he knew from
his brief glimpse of the place before the door had slammed shut that it
wasn't a large chamber at all. Finally he came back around to the door
block, identifying it by the faint gap in the stone and the whisper of air
from the corridor, and he leaned against it, weary and sick and a little
dizzy. I've been here days.... No, that's impossible. I just got here.
Maybe the air was going bad, affecting his perceptions. He pressed as
close as he could to the minuscule gap and tried to breathe in the fresher
air of the corridor. Perversely, it just seemed to make his confusion
worse. 

 It hurt to think. Forcing himself to keep moving, he put his back to the
door and started carefully across the room, meaning to pace it off. But
after ten paces he stubbed his toes on a stone object. Frowning, he felt
around, trying to figure out what it was. It had smooth stone sides, and
was too long to be a pedestal for an urn. The top was open, like a big
stone trough. Abruptly he realized what it was and jerked his hands back.
It was a sarcophagus, the top sealed with a heavy block of stone. 

 He didn't realize he was backing away until bumped into the wall. He
swallowed in a dry throat. So is that for me? Or is there something in
there? 

 He knew he had plenty of time to find out. 

 *** 

 Hercules found himself standing in the torchlit temple corridor again. He
took a deep breath, shouting, "Iolaus!" There was no point in attempting
to conceal his presence; the creature must have known exactly what he had
been about to do or it wouldn't have taken Iolaus. 

 He heard a distant shout from down the corridor and started in that
direction, lengthening his stride to a run. The dark corridor turned
twice, then someone blond and the right height barrelled around the next
corner and slammed into him, bouncing off his chest. Hercules grabbed his
shoulders in relief. "Iolaus!" 

 "Hercules?" The man looked up at him uncertainly. 

 Getting a clear look at his face in the light of the nearest torch,
Hercules thought in frustration, Wrong one. This was the other Iolaus.
Even though both men had the same sickle-shaped scar on their foreheads,
it was easy to tell the difference between them, at least for Hercules.
The faint lines around this man's eyes and mouth were all from pain and
tension, not laughter. "It's me," Hercules said quickly, "I used dream
powder to get back here." 

 "It's still a dream, right? It's not real?" the other Iolaus demanded
anxiously, stepping back as Hercules released him. He shook his head,
distracted and frightened. "I keep forgetting that, this time. I can't
remember where I was or what happened before--" 

 That's not good. "It's a dream, believe me. There's some creature or
something here that's pulling people into the dreamworld. It managed to
get Iolaus just before I was finished with the dream powder, and since you
two are connected, it keeps pulling you in too." He started to put a hand
on the man's shoulder and managed to stop himself just in time; this
Iolaus didn't like to be touched. "Have you seen Iolaus? Or anyone else?" 

 "I don't--" Iolaus looked up at him, confused. "Did you just get here?
And Iolaus...disappeared just before you came?" 

 Hercules nodded, trying to keep the impatience out of his tone. "Yes,
why?" 

 "I've been here for hours, maybe days.... At least I think I have. I just
can't--" He pressed his hands to his face, as if trying to get control of
himself. "I was at home, I went to sleep, then I was here. It can't be
days." 

 Hercules took a sharp breath. He was asleep. That explains how this
creature was able to grab Iolaus. It must have been able to touch the
sleeping mind of the other Iolaus, and used the connection between the two
men to pull his Iolaus into the dreamworld. "It's only been a half hour at
most since Iolaus disappeared. Something's manipulating time here for you,
making it seem longer." Hercules set his jaw. Whatever was doing this, it
was going to regret it. "Do you have any idea where Iolaus is?" 

 "Yes, I'm sure I saw him, but everything's so confused, like it's all
just a mass of images." He bit his lip, concentrating. "I saw that woman,
Morrigan, and the others-- Yes!" He looked up urgently, gesturing back
down the corridor. "There's a tomb, back there somewhere, they locked him
up in it--" 

 Hercules was already moving. 

 *** 

 Hercules rounded the corner and found himself in a larger room,
surrounded by the Eirish mercenaries and Morrigan. Jason, Nebula and
Zarathustra weren't here; apparently whoever was controlling the
dreamworld had dropped the pretense that this was Dahak's temple in
Corinth. The chamber had a low ceiling and was smoky from the torches, the
red-lit shadows jumping on the stone walls. Hercules scanned the room but
with the dim light and the haze he couldn't see anything like a tomb
entrance. "Where is he?" he demanded. 

 Morrigan stared at him blankly for a moment, then shoved in front of him,
saying, "Why? You know this is for the best!" The mercenaries muttered
threats, stirring uneasily. 

 "This is a nightmare." Hercules couldn't tell if the Morrigan of his
imagination was more annoying than the real one had become or less. "Now
tell me where he is or I'll knock this whole place down." The other Iolaus
was hovering uneasily at the edge of the group; Hercules caught his eye
and inclined his head toward the back of the chamber, hoping he got the
message. Hercules knew Morrigan wouldn't tell him anything, but he could
keep her distracted and give the other Iolaus the chance to remember where
the tomb was. 

 The other Iolaus nodded, enlightened, and darted toward the far wall. He
yelped as one of the mercenaries snarled and grabbed his arm, yanking him
back. With a grimace, Hercules reached out and took the mercenary by the
neck, giving him a shake hard enough to make the mailed shirt under his
leather tunic jingle. The man let go of the other Iolaus, who bolted for
the wall. Hercules dropped the mercenary and the man collapsed on the
floor, gasping. Since these weren't real people, he saw no particular
reason to employ self-restraint. He told Morrigan with grim emphasis, "You
need to tell your men to stay out of the way." 

 "You've gone mad," she said, staring at him in horror. "Dahak has turned
your mind." 

 Hercules just glared at her in annoyance. The other Iolaus was moving
along the far wall, running his fingers down the cracks in the stone.
"Here!" he said suddenly, stepping back and throwing an urgent look at
Hercules, "I think it's here." 

 Morrigan proved that theory by gasping and flinging herself in front of
that section of stone. 

 Hercules strode forward, shaking off her attempt to grab his arm, and
slammed his fist into the stone. 

 Before the dust settled, something bolted out of the dark gap. If it
hadn't tripped over the scattered rubble, Hercules wouldn't have seen it
was Iolaus in time to stop him. 

 Iolaus staggered, then lunged for freedom. Hercules managed to dodge into
his path, catching him around the waist. 

 For a moment it was like trying to wrestle a young lion without hurting
it. A very strong, agile young lion that wasn't adverse to eye-gouging and
hitting below the belt. And the black silk thing he was wearing was damn
slippery. 

 Morrigan was shouting and two of her men ran at Hercules. He didn't
bother to find out their intentions, sparing one arm to slam them away.
With a punch that would have smashed his nose if it had landed squarely,
Iolaus almost managed to twist free. Gritting his teeth, Hercules swung
him around, pinning him face first against the wall with an arm around his
neck. Morrigan was still shouting and he snapped, "Morrigan, shut up!
Iolaus, stop that right now!" 

 For a wonder, they both did, and the other Iolaus flinched for good
measure. Hercules continued grimly, "Morrigan, tell your men to stay back.
I--" Iolaus, recovering more quickly, sunk his teeth into Hercules' arm.
Luckily, he couldn't quite reach the artery he had been aiming for.
Cursing, Hercules, shifted just enough to grab a handful of hair and
wrench his head back. He finished, "I don't want to kill anyone. For the
moment." 

 Iolaus muttered, "Ow," which Hercules heard with relief. It was the first
coherent sound he had made. 

 Morrigan pushed forward, saying, "Hercules, what are you doing? You know
what he is! You were the one who told us to put him in there." 

 Hercules gritted his teeth, managing to hold Iolaus despite his partner's
desperate attempt to break free. Making a massive effort to sound calm, he
said to Morrigan, "Take your men and get out of here." 

 She hesitated, confusion crossing her sharp features. Hercules didn't
like this, even though he knew this wasn't the real Morrigan, just an
image conjured up from his memories, but he made himself smile
reassuringly at her. Forcing warmth into his voice, he said, "You have to
trust me, Morrigan. I know what I'm doing. Zarathustra said I was the only
one who could kill Dahak, remember?" He felt Iolaus, pinned between the
wall and his chest, quiver in rage and betrayal. But he continued
relentlessly, "Now I need you to help me by taking your men away." 

 She hesitated, still confused, but she finally nodded. "Yes, Hercules.
But we'll be close by." 

 That's what I'm afraid of, Hercules thought grimly, watching until she
and her men disappeared down the dark corridor. Keeping his voice low, he
said hurriedly, "Iolaus, this is a dream, do you remember that? The
village, the disappearances, I was going to make the dream powder--"
Hercules felt the tension in Iolaus' body relax just a little and thought
he was listening, and must have unconsciously loosened his hold. 

 He realized a heartbeat later that Iolaus had just been gathering his
strength. 

 Hercules staggered back a step as Iolaus shoved off from the wall and
twisted away from him. Hercules lunged and made a wild grab, catching his
arm. He hastily blocked a punch, pinning Iolaus back against the wall. 

 Hercules gripped Iolaus' chin, forcing his head up. His eyes were blue,
reddened from the smoke and narrow with fear and rage. That was a relief;
after all this Hercules had half-expected to see Dahak's eyes. Hercules
would have known it for a trick of the dreamworld, but it was still a
mercy not to have to deal with it. Iolaus twisted violently and holding
him without having to break something was rapidly becoming impossible.
Through gritted teeth, Hercules said, "I know you're not Dahak." 

 Iolaus went still, watching him with deep suspicion. Hercules continued,
"Something is doing this to us, controlling the dreamworld, trying to get
us to kill each other. Now you can either trust me, or not. But I'm not
going to hurt you." 

 He stepped back, relaxing his grip. Iolaus spun out of reach into a dive
and roll, coming back to his feet with a sword. The black robe had torn,
hanging off his shoulder and revealing the raw red scar down the center of
his chest. His expression was utterly feral. 

 Hercules hadn't seen the weapon lying there; granted, he had been
distracted, but he was fairly sure there had been nothing on the floor.
Something had obviously put it there for Iolaus to find. Hercules watched
him for a moment, then deliberately turned his back. 

 He saw the other Iolaus, flattened back against the wall, his expression
terrified. But he always gets so upset when he sees us fight, he thought,
irrelevantly. The moment stretched. Hercules knew Iolaus wouldn't kill
him, knew it in his bones. But as angry and frightened and confused as
Iolaus was, the demigod wouldn't have been surprised to at least get
stabbed in a non fatal spot. But nothing happened. 

 Hercules had to look over his shoulder. Iolaus was breathing hard from
the fight, watching him warily. In the torn black silk, he looked almost
as slight as the ex-Jester; except he held the sword like a man who meant
to use it. Hercules said deliberately, "I know this seems real, but it's
a--" 

 The wall burst outward, knocking him flat on his back. He lay for a
moment, stunned, realizing the pressure on his chest was rubble from the
broken wall. 

 Dazed, Hercules pushed the crumbling stone away; the roaring in his ears
wasn't from the impact. Something was shoving its way into the chamber,
clawing at what remained of the wall, something large. The thought that
both Iolauses were in the room behind him, maybe stunned or trapped by the
fallen stone, brought him to his feet even though his head still swam. 

 The thing framed in the shattered remains of the wall was vaguely like an
insect, with faceted eyes and jaw mandibles, but it also had tentacles,
and there was something lizard-like in the sheen of its skin. It had the
same resemblance to the fake Dahak monster from the last dream that a sea
monster had to a grass snake. 

 Hercules grimaced, saying, "It's you, isn't it? You're the one who's
doing this." This thing had a reality that cast the rest of this
dreamworld place into shade. He knew he was looking at the creature who
had taken the villagers, taken Iolaus and imprisoned them all here. It
must have gotten tired of waiting for Iolaus to kill him, and decided to
take matters into its own hands. 

 It's about damn time, Hercules thought. He scooped up a large fragment of
wall and slung it at the creature's head, then threw himself forward. 

 *** 

 Iolaus flung an arm up to shield his face, staggering back from the rain
of dust and rock. Shaking flakes of stone out of his hair, he looked up
and gasped. 

 Hercules wrestled with a horrific creature that seemed made up of
elements of every monster they had ever faced. The demigod stood nearly
knee-dip in stone rubble, gripping the edges of the giant creature's sharp
mandible, trying to keep it from closing around his head. The thing had
tentacles as well, using them to grip the edges of the broken wall and
hold itself in place. Am I dreaming this? Iolaus felt dazed and drained,
as if he had been drugged. He was dressed like he normally was, in his
battered leathers, and for some reason that was a surprise. And he was
holding a sword, though it wasn't his. He didn't have a clue how he had
gotten here. 

 Iolaus shoved himself upright, stumbling over the broken stone. The room
seemed suddenly full of people; not Morrigan and her Eirish guards, but
ordinary people, men and women, old and young, dressed in plain wool
workclothes or leathers-- The villagers, he remembered suddenly. We were
looking for these people and they were here all along. He saw the other
Iolaus, crouched beside the intact wall, dazed and trying to stand. The
man pointed suddenly, calling out, and Iolaus looked back at Hercules. 

 The demigod tried to wrench the creature's head around, but Iolaus saw a
long tail lifting up, just past the bulk of its mottled amalgam of a body.
The tail had the dripping spines of a ghidra's stinger. 

 Suddenly it didn't matter if this was a dream or not. With a warning
shout, Iolaus lunged forward, leaping over the rubble. Just as the stinger
dropped toward Hercules, Iolaus swept his blade up. The metal struck
flesh, severing the stinger right off the end of the tail. Wow, Iolaus
thought, grinning as he dodged a flailing tentacle. That was a perfect
stroke. This has to be a dream. 

 Hercules saw him and wrenched the creature's head up, ignoring the
tentacles that snatched at him. "Iolaus, here!" he shouted desperately. 

 Iolaus saw the demigod had managed to lift the creature so its chest was
visible. It was armored with heavy scales, like a dragon. Bad choice, he
thought to whoever had made up this bizarre creature. The heavy plates on
a dragon's chest and belly were meant to withstand attacks by the large
claws and teeth of other dragons, not swordblades. Iolaus dodged in and
drove the sword into the soft tissue between the scales, right to where
the creature's heart should be. 

 And everything went suddenly black. 

 *** 

 Iolaus blinked, shaking his head. He lay in wet grass, staring up at a
gray dawn sky. Bewildered, he shoved himself upright. The sun was just
rising past the mountains and he was in a grassy field dotted with trees.
It ended at a bluff not far away, overlooking the wide river channel,
gleaming placidly under the dawn light. A little to the west, the village
looked down from its higher plateau, smoke from early morning cookfires
rising into the sky. Other people, at least a couple of dozen of them,
were sprawled in the grass around him, some just beginning to stir, others
sitting up and looking around with confused expressions that mirrored
Iolaus'. 

 Memory returned in a sudden flood. The dreamworld! We were in the
dreamworld. Iolaus shoved to his feet, shouting, "Hercules?" 

 "Here." Iolaus spun around to see Hercules standing not twenty paces
away, looking down at something that lay in the long grass. 

 Iolaus ran to stand at his side, asking worriedly, "You okay?" 

 Hercules rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in weary relief. "I'm
fine now." 

 He was looking down at the body of a ruinously old man, dressed in layers
of ragged robes. "He didn't make it," Iolaus said, looking around vaguely.
"The others did, or most of them." He supposed they would have to look at
Thene's list before they could make certain. 

 "No, it was him." Hercules nudged Iolaus' arm, bringing his wandering
attention back to the corpse. "Look at the wound in his chest." 

 Iolaus frowned, stepping forward and kneeling beside the body. The man's
gnarled hands were clutched at his chest, and looking closely he could see
the well of blood from a swordthrust. "I did that?" he said, startled. "He
was the monster?" 

 He felt a light touch on his shoulder and looked up to see a woman
standing beside them, steadying herself on him as she leaned down to look
at the corpse. It was hard to tell her age but her brown hair was graying
and there were faint lines from laughter and strain etched into her face.
"It's the hermit," she said in surprise. "The old man who came to live
here a few months ago. He used to come to our house, to complain about my
sister's pottery. He disappeared." She blinked, straightening up. "I
disappeared. I had dreams, and one night I-- Couldn't wake up." 

 "When you say it was him," Iolaus asked, looking back at Hercules, "you
mean it was him, all along?" 

 Hercules was nodding. With a grunt of effort, he knelt down beside the
body, tugging the tattered and filthy robes aside. He found a pouch
attached to the man's belt and pulled it off. Opening it, he nodded to
himself, and showed the contents to Iolaus and the woman. "Dream powder,"
he told them grimly. "It was him all along." 

 *** 

 The villagers gave them a whole hut to themselves for the night, and the
way Hercules felt, he wasn't going to argue with them. The battle in the
dreamworld had left him far more weary than if it had happened in the real
world. And he knew they would need to get on the road early tomorrow; they
would have to go to Athens to visit the other Iolaus, and explain what had
happened. 

 Iolaus was lying on a sheepskin rug beside the fire, his head propped up
on a pack and his boots and gauntlets off, yawning. Being in the
dreamworld wasn't exactly the equivalent of a restful sleep. Iolaus felt
like he had spent the past few days defending a battlement. The villagers
who had returned with him seemed to feel the same; the sound of noisy
celebrations outside had gradually died down to quiet talk and the
occasional laugh. He wondered if the other Iolaus, who must have woken
back in his home in Athens, knew that this had all been real or if he
thought it was just a strange series of dreams. 

 Thene, the headman Berias, and some of the other elders had been here
earlier, still trying to understand. "You were right," Hercules had told
them with a shrug. He had been sitting near the fire, where Thene was
warming wine for them. "When the disappearances first started, you all
thought it had to be a lone traveler, gone mad and killing people. The
only thing you were wrong about was the method." 

 Thene shook her head, setting the strainer aside. "He was a very
unpleasant man, and you could tell he was a little wrong in the head, the
way he raved at people and never seemed to bathe. But I never suspected
him of this." She lifted her brows. "I suppose the fact that he
disappeared too helped." 

 "He was always a very hateful man, that was obvious even on short
acquaintance," Berias said thoughtfully. "I suppose he just started
sending evil dreams to the people he saw at the market, that he took a
dislike to." 

 Hercules nodded. "That's why no one was taken from the villages and farms
on the other side of the river. He never met any of them." 

 "And no young kids," Iolaus added around a yawn. "They would have been at
home, doing chores, doing lessons, and he never noticed them." 

 "Being in the dreamworld with the dream powder gave him access to all
your thoughts, to a limited extent," Hercules told them. "He knew you had
sent for help to Liatres, and when we came within range, he knew he had to
stop us." He sighed, rolling a shoulder he had strained fighting with the
old man's monster incarnation. "He'd probably been in the dream world
physically so long himself, he was becoming a creature of it, losing his
connection to this world." 

 "But how did he know how to make the dream powder in the first place?"
the healer asked, bewildered. "Isn't that secret knowledge, known only to
the gods and--" he inclined his head toward Hercules "--people like you?" 

 Hercules gestured helplessly and started to answer, but one of the other
elders cleared his throat. "Apparently," the elder said, "There was a
rumor in the other village that when the man first came here he told a few
people that he was a priest of Morpheus. I've heard the priests often make
the dream powder for the outlying temples." 

 Iolaus rolled his eyes, Hercules rubbed his forehead wearily, and Thene
and the others stared at the elder. "Why didn't someone say that before?"
Thene demanded. 

 The elder spread his hands. "We didn't know about the dreams! No one knew
it was important." 

 Now, after everyone had left, and Iolaus was comfortably full of the warm
wine and drifting toward sleep, he said, "So you think he was kicked out
of a temple for being crazy? Isn't that kind of difficult for a priest of
Morpheus? I mean, it's not like you have to be crazy to be a priest of
Morpheus, but it probably doesn't hurt...." 

 "There's crazy and there's crazy," Hercules pointed out. "This must have
been the kind of crazy that even they didn't like." He sat up to put
another log on the fire. His back still hurt from wrestling with the old
man's dream form, and the warmth of the hut was entirely welcome. The
woman who had been standing next to them in the field had been Helene, the
potter's sister, and returning her and the others to their families had
been worth everything. He hoped Iolaus felt the same. His experiences had
been far worse than Hercules'. 

 Trying to find a way to edge into asking if that was the case, Hercules
said absently, "Even with everything that happened, we were lucky he took
you into the dreamworld. Since he had made himself part of it, I'm not
sure I would have been able to kill him, with my physical body still here.
But since he'd made you and the others part of it too, you were able to
kill him. You think that's--" He glanced up. 

 Curled up on the sheepskin, Iolaus was sound asleep. 

 end  
   
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