The Shieldbearer's Gift.Part FourPythia |
Re-stacking the barn didn't actually take very long - mostly because, while Polontius had to shoulder the seed sacks one at a time, Hercules was happily able to heft three at once. Nor did he bother with the long slog across the yard and up the ladder in order to lay the sacks neatly on the upper pallets in the building. He simply walked around the corner, gauged the distance and threw. The Spartan quickly got the idea - and stayed in the barn to tug the just landed sacks into the row before the next arrived courtesy of a semi-divine hand and eye.
"You do realise," he said at the end of the exercise, nodding his satisfaction at the neat stack of grain sacks safely nestled under his repaired roof, "that I expected that to take hours?"
"Uhuh," Hercules grinned. "But then - I applied Jo's third rule. Never do something the hard way - "
"-if you can find an easier way to do it," Polontius completed, echoing the grin with one of his own. "Thanks. I really appreciate the help."
"Anytime," the son of Zeus assured him, striding across to the water bucket for a much needed drink He'd half lifted the dipper, ready for a welcome mouthful of moisture, when he heard the clatter of hooves in the yard - along with Iolaus' urgent and breathless call.
"Herc? Pol?"
The two of them ran out to meet him. They found the colt dancing with alarm and distress, his flanks heaving and his coat flecked with foam; the hunter was trying to calm him enough to dismount safely, a task not helped by the young man who now sat behind him, clinging to him with wide eyed desperation.
"Sha, sah," Polontius called, reaching for the animal's halter and soothing him with reassuring hands. Hercules skirted the skittish hooves and helped the stranger dismount, frowning at both the man's dishevelled state and the fact that he appeared to be trembling with terror.
"Hold him steady, Pol," Iolaus asked, sliding back to the ground and immediately beginning an anxious inspection of the beast's flanks. "I don't think he was hit, but - "
"Hit?" Hercules turned his attention from the distraught man and frowned at his partner. "Someone shoot at you?"
"Kinda." The hunter disappeared behind the horse's withers, running his hands over the sweated skin.
"Man - man -manticores," the stranger gasped, clinging to Hercules' arm with panicked hands.
"Manticores?" Polontius echoed in alarm, staring at the son of Zeus. "Here?"
"Yeah." Iolaus reappeared beside him, wiping his hands down his breeches and looking decidedly relieved. "At least two of them. They'd got this guy trapped in a tree. He's okay, Pol. One of them loosed a tailful of spikes at us, but none of them seemed to have hit."
"Thank the gods for that," the Spartan breathed. Hercules could understand his relief. Manticore spikes were deadly; along with their viciously barbed tips they carried a fast acting poison which first paralysed and then inevitably killed its victim. There was no antidote - and the impact of one spike might have been sufficient to destroy the animal even if it had only succeeded in scratching skin.
"They - went for my -sheep," the young man babbled, clinging to Hercules' arm. "Came out of the sky. Never saw them,. Just - there. I ran. I just ran "
"You're safe now," the son of Zeus assured him, gently but firmly prising panicked fingers away from his triceps. "Its all right "
"No," the man insisted, looking around with fearful eyes. "They have my scent, I - "
"Its okay," Hercules interrupted patiently. He could understand the shepherd's panic; being chased by a pair of Manticores would have been a terrifying experience. He glanced at his partner with a wary frown. "They didn't follow you?"
"Nope." Iolaus walked over to give the young man an encouraging slap to his shoulder. "Come on," he grinned. "You'll be okay. Those overgrown kittens were too full of your mutton to make it a serious chase. They were just playing with you."
The shepherd gave him an astonished look. "Playing?" he echoed in disbelief.
"Yup," the hunter confirmed brightly, looking decidedly pleased with himself. "Manitcores do that. Once they've taken the edge off their appetite, that is."
Hercules gave him a measured look. "Did you know they'd eaten before you rode to this man's rescue?" he asked thoughtfully. Iolaus' pleased grin slid into a vaguely sheepish one.
"Ah -" he hedged, "well "
I didn't think so.
"You saved my life," the shepherd realised, calming down enough to understand what had just happened to him. "You could have been - thank you. Thank you."
"Anytime," the hunter shrugged, not so much embarrassed by the thanks as beginning to comprehend what he'd risked to earn them. Just as Hercules suspected he really hadn't thought the situation through before he charged into action.
"What are a pair of Manticores doing hunting in this part of the world?" Polontius questioned, leading the horse across to hitch him to a post beside the water trough. The animal immediately dipped its head to drink. "They prefer mountain country, don't they?"
"Uhuh." Hercules had been wondering that himself. "I've never seen one this far south either. One or two in Northern Thrace, but - never around here."
"It's a pair of males," Iolaus considered thoughtfully. "And they're not that big either. Probably young ones, looking for territory - before they get too big for their wings."
"That would make sense." Hercules frowned over the implications; Manticores were dangerous creatures, but they were also very rare - and, since they tended to lair well away from civilisation, they generally didn't pose much of a threat to people.
But if they establish territory around here
Their usual prey was mountain deer, wild pig, or even bear if they found it. In the more populated regions around Agraria, that diet would inevitably be replaced by mutton, beef, horseflesh - and man. He glanced at the shepherd, who'd sat his shaking bones down on a nearby bale of hay, and his frown became one of decided concern.
"They'll have to be dealt with," he concluded with a small sigh. He'd been hoping for a little time off - but then a hero's work was never ever done "How do you hunt Manticores?" he asked, looking hopefully in his partner's direction.
"You don't," Iolaus answered promptly, then grimaced and thought about a more constructive answer. "Okay - ah - well, the Thracian's suggest suiting up in protective armour and using nets attached to crossbow bolts. The Macedonians pad themselves up in leather and set traps. And the Scythians stalk them at a distance with those long bows of theirs - poisoned arrows and - " His face creased as he struggled to remember the relevant details. "- fire. They set smoke fires to keep them from the air."
Polontius looked impressed. "And that works?" he asked hopefully. The hunter shrugged.
"If you're lucky. Wind's in the right direction and you've enough wet wood to make the smoke thick enough. Of course," he added, "that tends to blind your archers, so - ah - you're taking a risk either way."
"You'd need some pretty heavy duty arrows, too," Hercules pointed out. "Don't the Scythians use double angled iron points?"
Iolaus snorted. "Yup. Takes a serious war arrow to pierce pelts like that. That's why the Scythians hunt them. Remember that fellow at Galthisia?" he asked, and Polunitus nodded grimly.
"Too well," he noted. "Jo broke two javelins on his breastplate. Three layers of manticore hide and the man thought he was invulnerable."
Jodaran's javelins
Hercules' anxious frown became a considered smile; he nodded thoughtfully to himself, assessing the possibility of the idea that had just occurred to him. "Pol?" he asked. "Do you still have Jo's javelins?"
The Spartan threw him a look that ran along the lines of exactly how well do you know me? Of course he'd kept his lover's cherished weapons; the question had been almost a rhetorical one. Iolaus broke into a broad grin. "Now why didn't I think of that?" he asked the general air. "Herc - that's perfect. With your right arm behind a Spartan javelin those manticores wouldn't stand a chance."
"Nor would he," Polunitus remonstrated. "Hercules, if you got into range for that, you'd be an open target for a tailful of spikes."
Yeah. Hercules sighed. It had seemed like a good idea, but not even he was willing to risk exposure to the manticores' poison. Perhaps they could think of another way
"All he needs is a shield," Iolaus pointed out. "And yours is hanging right above your fireplace. Next to those javelins."
Polunitus frowned. "He couldn't manage both at once; that shield's a full time job on its own."
"Yeah," the hunter agreed. "So?" He shrugged. "You're not the only one around here knows how to use it." An oddly wry grin chased across his features. "And youre the one that suggested I deserved the title better than you did. Whatdya say, Herc? You turn Spartan for the day - and I'll be your shieldbearer."
That would work
"It'll still be dangerous," the old warrior protested anxiously. "Hercules - you do this, you'll be trusting Iolaus with your life."
Hercules looked at him puzzledly, wondering why he even need to mention such an obvious consideration. "And?" he queried. Polontius glanced between the two of them and sighed.
"And nothing," he said. "Forget I even mentioned it. I mean - you're a good team. You always have been. Just - don't go taking any unnecessary risks."
The son of Zeus shook his head, amused at the older man's sudden concern. He and Iolaus had been taking exactly these kind of risks for years. And often against far worse odds. "We won't," he laughed softly. "I promise."
The Spartan's chariot was not the most comfortable form of transport, but it was quick, and it had been designed to do the job they now required of it; to carry them and the heavy iron tipped javelins into the field of battle. Polontius had hitched up his team and then insisted on being the one to drive them; partly, Iolaus suspected, because that way he could stay with the horses and whip them out of danger should the manticores choose them as a target, and partly because there was no way the seasoned warrior would be willing to stay behind and simply wait. They covered the distance almost as fast as the frightened colt had done; it wasn't that long before Polontius was reining the team to a halt and the three of them were staring across the landscape at the subjects of their hunt.
The manticores had returned to the tree where they'd previously pinned their terrified victim. One of them lay sprawled beneath it, munching messily on a mutton carcass, while the other was in the tree, draped over some of the lower branches. Iolaus quirked a small smile at the sight; the shepherd had sought refuge in those very same branches, unaware that, for a creature with both claws and wings, climbing trees was not exactly an obstacle. He'd stumbled on the scene and raced in to the rescue with barely a thought, conscious only of the fact that the man was in mortal danger and trusting to the speed of the animal to get them both away afterwards. That he'd succeeded had mostly been a result of luck, rather than judgement; had the beasts been hungry, they'd have probably brought the horse down with ease.
And me with it, he considered grimly. He'd faced a lot of monsters over the years, some of them more dangerous than others, and he'd learnt a lot in the process. The bite of a hydra hurt. Dragon breath was hot - and common harpies had a habit of trying to claw your eyes out. But, while he knew a little bit about hunting Manticores, he'd never actually done it. They weren't monsters exactly - not the way that Echidna's children claimed the title - but they came pretty close. They had the body and claws of a lion, the wings of an eagle, disconcertingly human faces surrounded by a wild mane of wiry hair, and whip like tails, loaded with those barbed poison tipped spikes.
Not exactly your average house cat
He hadn't been wrong in his initial estimation; these two were a pair of young males, not yet grown into full body weight. Which made them slightly less of a threat, but added an extra danger to facing them. The older a manticore got, the less use it made of its wings, its bulk restricting flying to little more than assisted leaps or low, slow level progress. A young creature like these would have a lot more manoeuvrability in the air.
He reached across and surreptitiously re-checked the weight of the figure of eight shield that stood propped up beside the rack of javelins. Polontius had insisted that he practice with it while he and Hercules hitched up the team, an idea he'd been dismissive of until he'd actually picked the thing up. It was much heavier than he'd remembered, and he'd had to adjust the carry straps to take account of the difference between his reach and that of the lanky Spartan. After a few tentative steps and turns the intricate manoeuvres that he'd learnt at the Acadamy came flooding back - although he suspected he'd have both bruised ankles and an abominably aching arm by the end of the day.
But Herc will be safe. The prospect of that was worth all the potential discomfort; he doubted that he could have persuaded the son of Zeus to wait until Iphicles or Milos sent a squad of heavily armoured men to deal with the beasts. Not as long as they threatened the lives and livelihoods of the local villagers.
Besides, he decided, glancing at his partner with knowing confidence, who needs a squad of men when he and I are around to deal with the problem?
Hercules had a thoughtful frown creased across his chiselled features; he was assessing the landscape for possible problems and weighing up the situation, the way he always did. Iolaus carefully tipped the shield back into place and took his own careful look around. In battle he tended to be a 'lets get in there and do this' kind of guy, but this was hunting - and successful hunting always depended on being at least one step ahead of the intended prey.
If we slip in down that gully, we'll be able to get pretty close before they see us. On the other hand
"Wind's to the north," he observed softly. Hercules nodded a wary uhuh and kept on looking. The hunter cracked a grin. "Mint?" he asked, casually dipping his hand into the bag he'd dropped into the chariot at the last minute and pulling out a handful of the rich smelling herb. Both of his friends turned towards him with in puzzlement - until understanding dawned in Hercules' eyes and he smiled.
"Good thinking," he acknowledged, taking the pungent leaves and crushing them into a pulp. Polunitus went on frowning.
"Old hunter's trick," Iolaus explained, extracting his own handful of the stuff and beginning to rub the juice along his arms. "This stuff masks your scent - and since there was plenty in your herb garden "
"Oh," the Spartan nodded, finally understanding the apparently bizarre behaviour. "I see. Clever."
"Yeah," the hunter grinned, thrusting the bag in his direction. "There's enough in there for you and the horses - provided you don't get too close."
"Okay." Polontius took the bag and frowned at its contents, his nose wrinkling at the strong aroma.
Hercules rubbed his hands down his thighs, wiping away the last of the juice, and reached across to pick up the harness that held the heavy javelins. "Let's do this," he said, slinging the harness over his shoulder and jumping down out of the chariot. Iolaus hurriedly scrubbed the rest of the mint juice into his arm pits, snatched up the shield and followed him.
"Be careful," the Spartan called after them both. The son of Zeus acknowledged his concern with an abstracted wave of his hand; the hunter looked back to flash the man an amused smile.
We're always careful.
Well - when we have time to be
The scramble down into the gully was an easy one and once they were there the two of them stalked along the narrow cutting with cautious stealth. Hercules could move like a cat when he needed to; he crabbed along the narrow cutting, half crouched over and making practically no sound. Iolaus had less of a need to bend double, but he moved just as quietly, padding along behind his friend and keeping the shield angled down so that its polished surface wouldn't catch the light.
When they reached the point where the land began to rise again the son of Zeus risked a wary glance over the edge of the gulley then ducked back down, turning to nod a silent affirmation to his partner.
Okay
Iolaus returned the nod with a determined one of his own. Hercules reached out and clasped his shoulder for a second, somehow managing to convey both warmth and gratitude - along with his own admonition for caution - in that one brief touch. The hunter returned the sentiment with a confident grin. Their eyes met. They took the same deep breath.
And the hunt was on.
 |
 |
|---|