The Sword

It was the sound that first attracted Iolaus to the fight. Through the forest he could hear the grunts and gasps of an intense battle, and the noise of the two combatants rebounded off the trees.

Moving cautiously, the handsome blond man moved towards the sound, his own sword drawn. His intention was simple: if it was a fair fight, then he would leave the combatants to themselves, but if it was not, then he would have no option other than to get involved and make it a fair fight.

As he edged forward, he glanced about and wondered if Hercules might hear the battle. He was due to meet his friend on this trail and had been expecting to run into him as he walked. He was pretty certain that Hercules was not one of the fighters, as the demi-god rarely got involved in actual sword-fights, preferring instead to use his incredible strength to deal with any attack.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash, which caused Iolaus to gasp in pain and cover his eyes. This was followed by a deadly silence. When the blond Greek's eyes cleared he moved forward again, but the fighting had ceased and he had to use his memory of where he thought the fight was.

Within seconds he entered a small clearing and spied a smouldering tree across the way. It was obvious that lightning had struck it. Glancing about, he could see no sign of the fighters, so slowly he edged further into the open, all the while using his keen hunting skills to ensure that no one sneaked up on him.

After several minutes of cautious searching, he came to the conclusion that whoever had been fighting was now gone. Where to, he had no idea, but glancing once more at the smouldering tree, he wondered if they had been zapped by the lightning bolt and had totally disintegrated.

Shrugging his shoulders, he re-sheathed his own sword and decided that he might as well get on with his own journey. As he began to backtrack his path across the clearing, a glint over to his left caught his eye and he altered his course to investigate it.

As he approached, he noticed a sword laying, half-hidden, in the grass and, stooping down, he picked it up. It was warm to his touch, and to his surprise fitted comfortably into his grip. He held it up and tilted it to look at its edges. It was almost black, and the hilt had darkened stones buried into it. Iolaus, with his knowledge as a blacksmith, thought that it was a stunning piece of workmanship. Glancing about, he wondered who would have left such a valuable weapon laying in the grass.

Again he did a slow circuit of the clearing, this time delving deeper into the woods to check if anyone was lying injured, but he could find no one and there was no answer to his calling. Finally deciding that he was not going to find the owner of the sword, he decided to keep the weapon with him until he reached the next village, and then see if anyone recognised it.

With that thought in mind, he secured the weapon across his back, then wandered back to his original path and went along his way.

***

As he walked, Iolaus began to realise that he was feeling tired. After an hour he decided to make camp, but the effort of collecting firewood just seemed too much, so he hastily made do with a cold meal from his pouch and, folding out his cloak, he wrapped himself firmly within its grasp. Holding the newly discovered sword close to him, he drifted into a deep sleep.

This was the sight that Hercules came upon several hours later. He paused and frowned when he realised that the body he had discovered a slight distance from the trail was that of his friend, and his first impression was that the other man was injured in some way.

Moving forward swiftly, he reached out and turned him over, then paused when he realised that Iolaus was merely asleep. Pulling a weary face, he let a smile slip across his lips and, reaching out, he shook his friend. Iolaus moved easily under his grasp but did not awaken.

Growing more concerned by the moment, the son of Zeus shook harder, until finally Iolaus groaned and, reaching out, prevented Hercules from moving him any more.

He blinked up owlishly at his friend, then smiled warmly. "Hey Herc," he commented as he fought to disentangle himself from his cloak, which seemed to have become a living entity determined to keep him captive. With Hercules' help he was soon free and scrambled to his feet, where he stood swaying and smiling sheepishly up at his friend. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."

Hercules raised an eyebrow and asked, crossing his arms as he did so, his tone one of indulgence, "How many was it this time?"

Iolaus looked confused. "How many what?"

The son of Zeus smiled broadly, his fears put to rest now that his friend was awake.

"How many serving girls did you entertain in the last village to make you that tired?"

The confusion cleared and Iolaus looked slightly shamefaced as he answered, "Well, to tell the truth there was only one."

Hercules sighed deeply, then turned to help gather his friend's stuff, saying as he did so, "She must have been something, then."

He did not see the frown which filtered across Iolaus' face as he answered, slightly uncertainly, "Yeah... yeah, I guess she must have been."

Hercules turned round to look at his friend, a frown crossing his own face at Iolaus' uncertain tone. As he did so, he spied the sword that his friend was still holding. "What's that?" he asked, his voice sounding sharper than he intended.

Iolaus glanced down to where Hercules was pointing. "Oh this," he answered, holding up the sword. "I found it a-ways back... in a clearing."

"You found it?!" The disbelief of the other man was plain to hear.

For some reason the smaller man took exception to his friend's tone and snapped back, "Yes... I found it..." then he went on to explain what had happened.

"So," Hercules concluded when Iolaus had finished, "you never found the two who were fighting?"

"No," Iolaus shook his head. "Just a smoking tree and this sword...." As he spoke, he looked at the item in question and commented, "It's a lovely weapon... so light to hold." He tested its weight as he spoke, bouncing it up and down. "And it just flows through the air." He made a couple of swipes, as if engaging in a fight.

"Well, it certainly looks like a fine piece of weaponry," Hercules said, turning his back on his friend and heading towards the road.

"HERC!" The cry was one of pure terror and the demi-god reacted accordingly, diving out of the way of the impending attack; even though he could not see the attacker, he knew from Iolaus' tone that there was one. A sword swiped down, slicing the space where he had been moments before.

He spun about, ready to fight off the attacker, but was surprised to see only Iolaus standing behind him. He paused when he saw the expression of total shock and fear on his face, but it took only seconds to see that the attack had indeed come from his friend. "That wasn't very funny," he snapped.

Iolaus was gasping in reaction, his complexion as pale as the sword was dark. "It wasn't a joke," he finally managed to gasp, as he gripped the shaking sword in both hands. To Hercules it looked as if the other man was fighting against using the weapon. "Herc..." Iolaus spoke from behind gritted teeth, "I can't.... It... it...." Before he could finish, he lunged towards his friend, who neatly side-stepped the attack.

"Drop the sword," Hercules ordered as Iolaus spun about for another thrust.

"I can't... can't," Iolaus screamed as he tried to pull back on the weapon. "It's... I..." he spluttered as he was pulled forward as if on an invisible rope.

Hercules quickly saw that it was not Iolaus who was directing the attack, but he appeared to be unable to stop the thrusting of the weapon as it sought to sink itself into the demi-god's flesh.

After ducking and diving the weapon for several minutes, it fast became clear to Hercules that Iolaus was losing the battle for what little control he was able to exert over the sword, as the jabs were coming closer and more determined to injure.

Suddenly the weapon turned and sliced along Iolaus' own leg. It was as if it realised that Iolaus was fighting against it and preventing it from reaching its goal, and it had turned upon him in a fit of raw anger.

Seeing the blood start to flow down his friend's leg, Hercules realised that he would have to act soon, before the weapon got in a more deadly swipe at his friend. Leaping under the weapon's guard, the son of Zeus swept his hand up and caught Iolaus under the chin; his head snapped back and he slumped to the ground without a word.

Hercules spent several moments breathing in much-needed air, the sword now lying useless by the unconscious man's side. Reaching out, Hercules gently lifted his friend and, moving him a short distance away from the weapon, he unrolled both their cloaks and made a rough bed for Iolaus. He then set about cleaning and bandaging the wounded leg.

While it was a deep, nasty cut, it was not life-threatening, so long as it was not allowed to bleed profusely. After Hercules had seen to his unconscious friend, he turned his attention back to the weapon.

He prepared a deep hole near the weapon and, after wrapping it firmly within a strong cloth, making sure that his hands did not come in direct contact with the sword, he then pushed it into the hole, where he proceeded to cover it, placing a couple of heavy stones over the top to prevent anyone else from digging it up. Once he was satisfied that the sword was buried, he moved back to wait beside Iolaus. He wanted to return to the place where Iolaus had found the weapon - he wanted to know more about it, and found it hard to believe that it had just appeared.

He seriously considered it to be a weapon of the gods, but he had no idea who would own such a vicious weapon. He dismissed Ares from his mind, as the god of war didn't need a weapon to incite his killing; that was a pleasure that he much preferred to engage in himself. No, this was a more cunning weapon, and bore the mark of a more devious god.

Several hours later he was still in the same position, considering the same problem, when Iolaus let out a pain-filled groan and fought to open his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Hercules asked, moving to lean over his friend, unable to hide his growing concern at the length of time that Iolaus had been unconscious.

"What hit me?" Iolaus moaned as he fumbled his hand up to touch his swollen jaw, testing it to see if it was still attached and wincing at the pain this action caused.

Hercules looked slightly shamefaced and admitted, "Sorry, that was me. I didn't mean to hit you so hard, but the sword was coming in for another attack and I had to act fast."

"The sword!" Iolaus gasped, looking about nervously, as if expecting the weapon to be lying in wait for him to awake before it attacked.

"Don't worry..." Hercules advised, reaching out and gently pushing his friend back when he would have risen. "I've buried it, and no one is going to get at it." He indicated the two heavy stones.

Iolaus slumped back and lay gathering both his strength and his memory before he asked, "Now what?"

"Now..." Hercules began, "I want you to take me back to the clearing where you found the sword... I want to see if there are any clues there."

Iolaus shook his head, saying, "I searched the place pretty good, Herc... there was nothing there except that smouldering tree and the sword."

Hercules gave him an intense look, then asked, "Would you mind if we went back...? I know that you said that there was nothing there... but I would just like to have a look." Seeing that his friend was still unsure, he added, "I have an uneasy feeling about this."

Iolaus closed his eyes; he suddenly felt very old, very tired. Finally, nodding his head, he agreed. "All right... if it's what you want."

Hercules frowned down at his friend, noting the weary expression, and then glanced back towards the buried sword, a sneaking suspicion beginning to grow in pit of his stomach. It was a feeling that he didn't like - didn't like at all.

***

By the time they reached the clearing where Iolaus had found the sword, Hercules was growing very worried about his friend, who appeared to be growing weaker by the minute. Hercules knew that the cause of the weakness could not be the wound that he had sustained, nor the blow that the son of Zeus had given him, as he had been hurt far worse in the past and not shown such frailty. Also, whilst walking on the injured leg had been difficult, he had hobbled along without a moan; his only concession to his injury was to allow the Hercules to carry the bag that held his few travelling possessions, but he steadfastly refused to give up his weapons.

Iolaus stumbled again, and this time the other man was by his side instantly. "Sorry," the smaller man apologised as he leant gratefully against the other's strength. "I can't understand why I feel so tired," he finished, as he slowly pushed away from his friend's support. "I guess I must have lost more blood than we thought."

Hercules said nothing, but he was unable to stop the growing apprehension that was churning in the pit of his stomach. He was almost certain that Iolaus' lack of energy was in some way tied to the buried sword.

"Here," Iolaus said, limping over to the spot where he had found the sword. "It was just lying on the ground here." Turning, he pointed to the burnt-out tree and continued, "The tree was smouldering when I got here, but there was no sign of anyone else."

Hercules took at closer look at the tree, then glanced upwards towards the sky; night was coming and the growing dusk was making it hard to see. Looking back at Iolaus, who was now leaning wearily against another tree, he offered, "Let's camp here tonight and we can take a better look tomorrow."

Iolaus said nothing, just hobbled up and took his pack from Hercules and began to set up a small camp. Hercules, seeing his friend struggle to bend to pick up some firewood, hastened to his side and offered, "Here, let me do that - you should be resting that leg." Iolaus gave him a long look, as if he was going to argue, but finally nodded his head and, after readying his makeshift bed, he settled down on it.

It was the fact that Iolaus didn't protest at Hercules' words that worried him the most. The smaller blond man would usually bristle at any reference to his injuries, or a sign of weakness, but this time he accepted the offered help and was soon deeply asleep, rolled up tightly in his cloak.

Hercules spent the remainder of the evening setting up the camp and cooking a meal, which Iolaus didn't wake for. After several attempts at getting his friend awake, the son of Zeus aborted his efforts and, looking at his own food, ended up throwing it away as anxiety tightened the muscles of his gut.

As he sat there looking across the small fire at his friend, he racked his brain for any memory of legends concerning magical swords and their ability to drain the energy of their bearer. He found that he could not remember one. Watching his friend sleep, he knew with a growing sense of dread that the sword had taken a deeper hold upon his companion than either of them had at first thought.

With this unsettling thought in mind, Hercules settled down to sleep, but was not really surprised when he discovered that it effectively eluded him.

***

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Hercules was up before the first rays struck the trees above them. He rekindled the fire and got a broth going before he began a careful inspection of the clearing. Iolaus, he noted, still slept the sleep of the deceased and showed no signs of waking soon. Hercules was prepared to let him sleep, as it gave him the time to examine the clearing without any interruptions.

After studying the now-dead tree, he turned his attention to the spot where Iolaus said he had found the sword. With his keen eyesight, Hercules saw nearby the indistinct impression of a body. Carefully he knelt down and inspected it closely, but finally had to admit that it didn't really give him any idea of what had actually taken place within the clearing the day before.

Sighing, he stood and went to check the broth, which was bubbling happily. Turning, he began to awaken his friend. At first Iolaus was unwilling to rouse from his deep sleep, but after several determined attempts from Hercules, the man finally opened his eyes and looked blearily up at his friend. Then he looked about in slight surprise.

"Morning already?" he asked, his voice croaky.

"Yes," Hercules agreed with a warming smile, before turning slightly to prepare a bowl of broth for his friend. "You slept like a log," he commented as he heard him sit up behind him.

"Like a log?" Iolaus questioned as he rubbed his tired face. "Then how come I feel like I've not slept a wink all night?" He yawned widely to emphasise his point and gratefully accepted the bowl that was pushed in his direction. As he began to eat, he asked, "Did you find anything?"

"No..." Hercules sat down opposite him, across the fire, and began to eat his own meal. "I guess our next step is to head towards the nearest village and ask if they know anything about it."

Iolaus just nodded, as he was too busy wolfing down the food. He willingly accepted the offer of more from his companion. Within half an hour, all of the food that Hercules had prepared was gone, and the smaller man had also finished off both water skins.

"How do you feel?" Hercules asked, as he watched the last of their water disappear.

Iolaus shot him a look, then burst into a wide smile. "Great," he offered, stretching his arms and giving every indication of embracing the world as he did so.

The son of Zeus gave him a longer look, and then said, "Iolaus?" There was a slight tone of warning in his voice.

The smaller man felt the smile falter upon his lips and his arms drop. As he glanced back down at the ground, he offered honestly, "Like death warmed over.... I... I...." He paused, trying to discover the words that he wanted to use to explain how desolate he felt. "I feel like I've got a craving inside of me, Herc." He tilted his head, giving his friend a worried look. "Yesterday evening I felt so tired I could barely keep my eyes open; this morning I was so hungry and thirsty...." He held up the empty water skin. "I could drink another one of these... and yet the feeling that there is something eating at my middle is still there... it's like... like I'm missing something." He stumbled to a halt and just looked at Hercules, who was sharing his haunted look.

Finally the handsome demi-god, seeing the agony reflected in his friend's eyes, admitted defeat of the situation and suggested quietly, "I think we ought to go back for the sword."

The smaller man clambered to his feet, his movements jerky and hindered by his injured leg, and the growing dizziness of desire that now swept over him at his friend's mention of returning for the weapon. "No..." he rasped, fighting the sensation, "no way.... I almost killed you with it yesterday, and look what it did to me." He indicated the blood-stained bandage upon his own leg.

"Iolaus," Hercules pleaded, his own voice rough with emotion, "I don't want to go back for it... in fact the urge to flee in the opposite direction is almost overwhelming, but you've been growing weaker with every step you take away from it. Your sleep was unnaturally deep, you're pale, sweating, and I'm sure if I were to check you for a fever I would find one... and yes, you're right, you do look like death warmed over, but I can almost guarantee you that the moment we start to head back towards the sword, you'll start feeling better."

Iolaus slumped to the ground, unable to deny his friend's words, nor could he continue to fight the whispering voice that now spoke seductively to his consciousness. "So we head back," he finally stated. "Then what?"

"Well, that's the hard question," Hercules said. "But I was thinking about it last night, and you didn't have any trouble with the sword while it was sheathed; the problem only started once you drew it from its sheath and started to swing it about.... I think that, so long as we keep it sheathed and out of sight, it will be relatively harmless... but it seems that once you start to use it, it takes on a life of its own." He stopped as he considered his own words.

"So, what?" Iolaus hurried to interrupt. "I spend the rest of my life carrying the damned thing and yet not being able to use it?"

"No..." Hercules admitted, "I only think that carrying the sword is a short term solution. No," he continued, considering their options before he carried on, "I think we should go to the next village - there is a wise woman there called Leah. I've had dealings with her before; she is very learned and hopefully might be able to help us break this... er... curse." Even as he spoke the words, he secretly hoped that the wise woman would be able to enlighten him as to the weariness that was eating at his friend.

Iolaus just looked at his friend. He trusted this man with his life and his soul, but even as he acknowledged this, he felt a little trickle of annoyance at Hercules, who once again seemed to be taking over the situation and telling the smaller man what to do. He froze, eyes going wide, as the desire to reject his friend's suggestion of seeking help flowed over him. This mere thought alone caused him more fear than he cared to admit. "Herc," he began, his tone suddenly urgent, "I think we ought to get this sorted out as soon as possible."

"Why?" the man in question asked, sudden anxiety rippling up from his stomach again when he noted how much paler Iolaus had become.

"I think it's... the sword... it's in my mind," the injured man stammered. "I can almost feel it winding about my thoughts." He paused and shook his head, as if to dislodge it, before he turned haunted eyes up to his friend. "Herc... if it makes me do anything... if it looks like I'm going to hurt anyone... anyone... you will stop me, won't you?"

The terror that blended in with the trust within the other's eyes caused the son of Zeus to sharply draw in his breath as he answered honestly, "You have my word, Iolaus."

"Even if it means killing me?" His eyes were wide; the knowledge of losing control and hurting an innocent was a greater fear to Iolaus than any other.

Remembering how tormented his friend had been when he had failed to save a woman from falling to her death, Hercules took a deep breath and, looking the smaller man directly in the eye, he answered firmly, "I will do whatever I have to, Iolaus, but I will try not to hurt you... only if I have to."

Iolaus seemed satisfied with whatever he saw in Hercules' eyes, because he dragged a small smile across his face and offered, "I knew I could count on you."

Hercules watched as the smaller man stood and began to pack his few belongings. The demi-god followed suit and wondered if he really did have the courage to do as his friend requested. Looking at his best friend, Hercules realised that if he did have to kill Iolaus, then he would have to turn a sword upon himself afterwards, because he seriously doubted he would have the strength to survive killing his companion.

***

The trip back to the sword went with surprising ease and, as Hercules had predicted, the nearer Iolaus got to it, the more improved his health became. As the demi-god rolled away the large stones that he had placed over the weapon, the smaller man was almost bouncing with anticipation. Once it had been uncovered, Hercules stood back and cautioned Iolaus to carefully pick up the sheathed weapon, that almost seemed to hum as the smaller man grew near.

Iolaus shot his friend a quick glance, then he stooped to pick it up, caressing the hilt almost lovingly but not removing it from the tightly wrapped sheath that Hercules had placed upon it the day before. He stood for a few moments, letting the feeling of holding it soak into his soul, then turning, he smiled at his friend and asked, "Which way to the village where your friend lives?"

Hercules nodded slowly, then pointed down the trail, saying, "You lead...." He didn't need to say any more, as Iolaus nodded willing and headed off in the direction that had been indicated. His injured leg was no longer giving him any trouble, and he was almost bouncing as he strolled along.

***

They reached the village just before nightfall, and made their way on past until they reached the small hamlet about a mile outside the small settlement, where Leah, the wise woman, welcomed Hercules like the old friend he was. She waved them both inside and within minutes had them sitting in front of a large fire, drinking mugs of warm wine.

The smallholding where she lived was cosy and homely. Her husband had died a few years previous, but her three sons still lived locally and were often popping in on their mother, along with their wives and many children.

After a pleasant hour reminiscing on the last time that the son of Zeus had paid her a visit, she settled back in her chair and crossed her arms, asking, "Now, Hercules, as much as I love seeing you, I am a wise enough woman to know that you have other reasons for visiting me? The expression on your face alone talks to me of this."

The question was clear in her tone, and Hercules smiled weakly at her and nodded his head slowly as he answered, "I knew that I would not be able to mislead you, Leah, but yes, you're right - I have come on a matter of great personal and urgent need." He paused while he gave Iolaus a look, then receiving his nod to continue, he began, "Yesterday, while we were on our way here to pay you a visit... something happened...." He paused, knowing that it was not going to be easy to explain. Looking over at his friend, he pressed his lips together as he considered the best words to use, then he began to speak.

When he had finished, Leah sat silently for several long moments, looking at the man who was now cursed with the sword. Iolaus had not spoken a word while his friend had been relating the story. In fact, he had chosen to look anywhere but at the two of them as the tale unfolded. "Do you have the sword with you?"

The question was directed at Iolaus, who nodded his head slowly. "It's here." He motioned towards the bag that lay nestled up against his legs. "I find that I'm unable to let it too far away from me," he confessed in a quiet tone. He had discovered this fact when they had rested for lunch and he had attempted to wander down to a nearby river to wash his hands. He had managed to get only a short distance away before the whispering voices in his head had turned to shrieking cries that had driven him back to the weapon's side.

"We've also noticed that he became weakened when he was travelling away from where I had buried it, but once we started heading back he grew stronger and his health returned," Hercules offered, as he leant forward in his seat.

Leah sat back and, looking at the two men, she said, "Iolaus... I need to see the sword, but I don't think that it would be a good idea if you were in the room...." She paused, judging the other man's reaction to her words. Iolaus swallowed hard and then glanced at the bundled-up sword. Slowly, without a word, he stood and began to walk towards the door that Leah indicated when she saw him rise.

"I'll just wait outside, then," he offered when he reached the door. His actions gave the distinct impression that he really didn't want to leave the room. "This isn't easy," he suddenly stated, and while his tone held a tired tinge of humour, there was a fire in his eyes that worried Hercules, who also noted the shaking hand that rested upon the door handle.

"We will be as quick as we can," Leah assured him, "and no one will touch the sword except to remove it from its protection."

After the smaller man had closed the door behind him, the woman stood and, as carefully as she could, removed the sword from its covering. She took great care not to actually touch the sword itself, and once it was laid out in the light she bent down low and ran her hand a hair's breadth above it, as if using her fingers to gather the information that she wanted. "This is a very powerful weapon," she commented, giving Hercules a quick glance, "yet..." she frowned, "it does not feel... right." She sat back on her heels and, giving Hercules a look of intense pity, she added, "This is bad, very bad... I feel great pain and sorrow attached to this weapon, and yet there is a... a sensation of evil, as if... it were a living thing...." She paused again, biting her lips as she forced the words out, "It is somehow sustained from the deaths that it causes, and it needs more to continue... to survive."

"How can we break the spell?" Hercules demanded, moving to stand above the woman as she still knelt upon the ground, just by the sword.

Slowly she straightened and began to cover the sword, again taking great pains to make sure that it was very well-hidden, wrapping layer upon layer about the deadly weapon. Then, when it was replaced back into the bag that Iolaus had used, she slowly stood, gratefully accepting Hercules' help, and dusted off her clothes, saying, "You'd better ask him to come back in."

Hercules moved towards the door and opened it, intending to call for his friend, but he stopped, rushing out into the night when he saw the form of his companion, sprawled face-down upon the ground. At his gasp of surprise, Leah followed him and they both knelt beside the fallen man.

Slowly turning Iolaus over, Hercules noted that he was again burning up with a fever. He turned pleading eyes upon Leah, who shook her head and said, "Bring him in; he should recover shortly, once the sword is placed back at his side, but the bond between them may have grown too strong for us to break it."

Hercules paused in the motion of lifting his friend. "Too strong?" he repeated, unable to hide the fear from his own tone.

"Come," she urged, motioning him back into the house.

Shortly they had the unconscious man settled in one of the small bedrooms, the covered sword again firmly fixed by his side. As Leah placed it there, the man let out a sigh of pain and tightly curled about it, hugging it as if it was a long-lost friend.

When she had closed the door and settled back on her chair by the fire, she motioned for the son of Zeus to take the seat opposite. Once he was settled, she gave him a look of total compassion and then started, "Once... a long time ago when I was a very young girl, my grandfather told me a story about a sword that had the ability to take over the person who wielded it. It was said that it would use the host, draining them of their life-force until the mind of the host body was destroyed, and then it would move on.... Hercules... I'm so sorry," she stopped and bit her lips, knowing that what she was about to say would cause him considerable pain, "but I don't know if we are going to be able to help your friend... it might be wiser to end his suffering... here."

Hercules swallowed hard and fought against rising bile that threatened to overwhelm him at her words, as he saw the truth in her eyes. "No," he denied, "there has to be something that you can do... that someone can do."

"I'm so sorry," she began, pity colouring her voice as she rose and moved towards him, reaching out and gripping his shoulder to express her own pain. "But you saw what happened when he just left the room without it for a few moments; if he tried to put any real distance between them now, the sword would drain the life out of him - and if what my grandfather said was true, the fact that he's managed to keep it sheathed this long and refrained from killing is testimony to his willpower, because the urge to draw blood will become stronger and stronger with each passing day, until Iolaus will become no more than a terrified hunting animal, looking for his next victim."

"No," cried Hercules, throwing himself out of his chair. "I won't let that happen... I will destroy the sword first."

"And in doing so, you will kill your friend."

"But according to you, he's already dead; according to you the only option that I have now is to decide how many other people I allow him to take with him." He had never known such pain, such a tearing at his soul, not since his wife and children had died, and the thought of losing Iolaus was almost more than he could bear and remain sane.

Leah smiled sadly at his words, then slowly she nodded her head and offered, "If you had answered any differently, son of Zeus, I would have let you both leave here without showing you this." As she spoke, she moved over to a cupboard and, after removing a few jars, pulled out a very old scroll and held it out to him. "My grandfather knew of the sword only through legend... the facts as I have just explained them could have become confused and the tale distorted... but once, when he was travelling, he came across this parchment and - because it was related to the sword - he kept it."

"What does it say?" Hercules asked, almost afraid to take the battered scroll from her outstretched grasp.

"It tells the story of a man who was caught under a sword's power, very similar to your friend, and yet there was a difference - what, I cannot, in all honestly explain, but this tale tells how he managed to break free of its spell."

"How?" The son of Zeus was unable to keep the hope from his voice.

The wise woman looked down at the parchment in her hand, then back to the man who looked at her with such eager anticipation, before she answered slowly, "He made a deal with Hades... who in turn agreed to release him from his death."

Hercules drew back; the expression on his face could not have been more shocked if she had attempted to attack him. "He what!!"

"The only way to escape the power of the sword is to die, Hercules, and this poor man..." she waved the scroll for emphasis, "he... sold his soul to your uncle and became his servant for every six months out of the year, doing his bidding entirely."

"No," Hercules denied the words, knowing too well the kind of work that Hades would demand from his old friend. "Iolaus would never... I can't let...." He paused as he considered the options.

Leah looked on, watching the handsome young man before her and knowing that he was fighting an inner battle that only he could resolve. Finally, seeing the look of determination enter his eyes, she advised gently, "I think it's about time you have a talk with your uncle."

Hercules looked intently at the woman before him, then reached out a steady hand and took the parchment from her. "I think I'll have a read of this before... I confront him."

"Take your time, my friend. I will go and sit with Iolaus... call me before you leave."

As she spoke, she headed towards the room where the unconscious man still rested.

Slowly the son of Zeus sank back into a chair and, unrolling the parchment, he began to read. By the time he had finished, he could feel tears of compassion forming within his eyes; the man who had survived the sword had suffered greatly for his freedom, and the deeds that Hades had required of him were sometimes beyond the words of the writer to describe - the ink would be smudged and watermarked at these places, and Hercules knew that the man had written his words in torment, but also with a desperate need to let others know the story of what had happened to him. Hercules finally rolled up the scroll and gently placed it upon the table; one thing he was certain of, Iolaus was not going to suffer the same fate.

"Leah," he called gently as he opened the door to the bedroom, "I'm going to go now...." He paused when he caught sight of Iolaus, who appeared to be sleeping; it was a deep, easy sleep, except for the few lines that rested between his brows, as if not all of his dreams were sweet. Hercules felt a pang of sorrow that he was having to leave his friend - but he was going in the hopes that, when he returned, he would have an answer to Iolaus' problem.

"Go with strength, my friend," Leah said as she rose from the chair beside the bed. "I will care for him until you return."

"You will be safe?" Hercules asked in sudden concern, as he let his glance slip down to the sword that was still nestled at his friend's side.

She smiled gently and offered, "I have survived many trials and great pains in my life, and," she added with a slight, knowing smile, "I am not totally without some knowledge on how to defend myself."

"I know," Hercules offered as he approached her and gently bestowed a kiss upon her upturned forehead. Before he left, he stated, "I want to thank you now for all your help... just in case...." He stopped, not sure how to continue.

"Go, Hercules," Leah stated firmly, pointing towards the door. "Your friend will be here when you return, that is my promise to you."

With those words ringing in his ears, the son of Zeus spun about and strode from the room, determination filling his every step.

As soon as he left the cottage, he paused and then cried out to his uncle who he knew watched the domain of the dead. At first there was no reply, so he moved further into the forest and kept crying for Hades to answer him. Suddenly, within the blinking of an eye, he found himself underground.

"What?" demanded a very harassed Hades, as the man paced in front of him, a long parchment trailing out behind him as he ticked off names from the list. "Ares has a damned battle going on, and the dead are starting to pile up... as usual."

"I need your help," Hercules stated, moving to stand in front of the pacing man, as the other continued to count the souls of the bodies that wandered past him, effectively ignoring his nephew.

"Look, I've already checked and Iolaus isn't here, and - even if he was - I couldn't let you take him back again... all right? I mean, okay, once was a gesture of thanks on my part, twice you proved yourself useful, but three times and the other gods will start complaining of favouritism... all right?" He would have continued his rant, but he suddenly caught sight of his nephew's expression, and his own eyes widened at how near to the truth he'd been.

"Oh come on, Hercules," he continued, his tone displaying his surprise that his nephew would even ask it of him, turning his full attention to his friend. "He's not dead... I would know."

Hercules looked at the slightly confused man and agreed, "No... not yet... but...." He spent the next several minutes explaining Iolaus' situation, and finally he said, "And the only way to survive the sword's power is to die."

"I don't see how dying is considered surviving the sword...." Then, seeing Hercules' look, he offered, holding up his hands to show that he carried no weapon, "And yes, I do know the weapon that you speak of in the legend, but I heard that Hephaestus destroyed it... I know that he really didn't want to have anything to do with it in the first place..." he added, by way of expanding the story, "but you know what Hera's like...." He stopped at those words, then added, "Sorry, I guess you know better than any of us what Hera can be like when she's on a roll."

Hercules felt as if he wanted to comment on that statement, but fought the urge as he really only wanted to help Iolaus, and he knew that to get side-tracked now would not do his friend any favours. "I read a scroll about one of the carriers of the sword... it told about how you gave him back his life in return for him acting on your behalf for six months of the year."

Hades frowned as he fought to capture the memory, then his brow cleared as he commented, "That was a long while ago, and it was a fair trade at the time." Then his face cleared as he asked in sudden interest, "Is that what Iolaus is offering?" Hercules could see that Hades was gaining a liking for the idea, so he quickly squashed any thoughts that his uncle might have along those lines.

"No," he stated firmly, before adding, his own anger rising, "I read what you made him do."

Hades held out his arms and slowly turned, ready to justify any decision that he made. "I have a lot to keep under control here, Hercules, and sometimes, believe it or not, I have bodies that just don't want to die or give up their life on earth, and at those times I have to... er, forcibly take them."

Hercules knew that he could argue the point in question, but he also realised that Iolaus did not have the time to spare, if he angered Hades. "Look," he offered, holding out his own hands by way of a truce, "I'm not here to argue the finer points of your actions, nor am I going to judge anyone... I am fully aware of my, er... family's views as far as mortals are concerned, but I do need your help with this particular problem."

Hades looked sorrowful for a moment and finally confessed, "I'm sorry, but if Iolaus returns here one more time, I will not be able to release him."

"Damned right you can't..." another voice interrupted, before continuing, "if he dies, then he's dead and that's the end of the matter." Both men spun about to confront the speaker and were welcomed by the sight of Ares, dressed in his usual black leather and looking as lethal as ever. A nasty smile was plastered across his face as he finished, "I just thought I'd pop down and see how you were getting on with processing my last little battle."

"Your last little battle, as you put it, is going to back me up into next week," snapped Hades, his face hard and set with angry lines as he glared at his nephew, "and I promised to spend some time with Persephone this evening."

Ares waved his concerns aside with a lazy hand and offered, "Send her flowers... I heard that women like that kind of thing. In the meantime, I've got bodies up there that are about to be buried, but they are still struggling to live."

"Well, I've told you before," snarled Hades, getting into full swing as he advanced towards his nephew, "if you insist on having senseless battle after senseless battle, you're going to have to just put up with the delay in getting them processed... all right?"

Ares had heard this argument from his uncle in the past, and knew that it was one battle he was not going to win, so he turned his attention to another, more interesting problem. "So your little friend is about to die... again?" The smirk in his tone was hard to miss.

"How long were you standing there eavesdropping?" demanded Hercules, his eyes hard as he glared at his half-brother.

Ares just smiled sweetly, revealing even white teeth and offered, "Oh, just long enough to hear most of the story... so poor old Iolaus picked up a sword of death, eh? Well, even if I do say so myself, it couldn't have happened to a nicer sidekick."

Hades threw Ares a dirty look as he demanded, looking pointedly back at his list and at the dead souls who staggered past, "Was there anything else you wanted?"

The god of war just smiled brightly at his uncle, all concerns about the dead men from the battle above forgotten, and shrugging, he stated warmly, "I'm not in a hurry, and this is... just so... so interesting."

Hades looked long and hard at Ares, but the other man just raised an eyebrow and returned look for look. Finally the god of the underworld just tilted his head away from his nephew's gaze and turned his attention back to Hercules, his face breaking into a frown of apology. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure that the others would wear me letting Iolaus return again."

Hercules opened his mouth to argue the point, but Hades suddenly got a distant expression upon his face as he continued, "Not unless...." He paused as he tried to recall something that he had been told. "Iolaus... Iolaus... wasn't he the one, the hunter, who got Hephaestus and Aphrodite together?"

Hercules frowned at the sudden turn in the conversation as he answered, remembering the tale that Iolaus had recently told him, "Yes... I think so."

"Well, if you can get Hephaestus to destroy the sword, I'll do what I can to help him from this end. I owe Hephaestus a favour, and returning Iolaus' life will go a long way in covering that."

Hercules closed his eyes as he took in what his uncle said. "So, if I can get Hephaestus to agree to destroy the sword and he also agrees to cancel the favour, you will allow Iolaus to leave here again, if it should come to that?" Hades threw Ares a dirty look as he nodded in agreement.

"That's not fair," the god of war started to protest, before he stopped himself and smiled knowingly. "But what the hell am I thinking? Hephaestus isn't going to agree to that... Aphrodite hasn't been near him in weeks, and he's spitting fire with every breath."

"Great," Hercules said, looking at the two men who stood before him. Realising that it was the only chance his friend had, he asked, "Does anyone know how I can get to Hephaestus?"

"I'll take you," Ares offered, coming forward, vainly trying to pull his facial features into an expression of polite helpfulness.

"You?" Hercules asked, the disbelief clearly showing in his tone, as he looked his half-brother up and down.

"Hey," Ares tossed the comment aside and offered, "the battle was running down anyway, and this..." there was real relish in his tone, which was also underlaid with something that Hercules could not identify, "this is a lot more fun."

Hades took a deep, noisy breath, clearly showing that he also trusted his nephew of war as far as he could throw him, but realised that time was against Hercules, so he just shook his head as he advised, "He is your best bet for finding Hephaestus, and it might speed matters up if you were to take Iolaus with you."

"Even better," Ares agreed with an even bigger smile, his attitude one of innocent benevolence. It was like water off Hercules' back as he glared at his half-brother.

"And what makes you think that I'm going to trust you as far as I can throw you?"

Hercules demanded of the god of war.

The god in question just offered his sweetest smile and said, his tone that of a whispering viper, the cold look now back in his eyes as he judged the situation properly, "Like you have a choice. That sword is gaining more power with every breath, and it could take you weeks to find Hephaestus without my assistance."

Hercules glanced at Hades, who just shrugged; he had no other advice to offer and both men knew that what Ares said was true. Hephaestus was capable of moving his forge without a moment's notice, and the god of war was the only one who would know where to find him instantly.

"All right," Hercules finally said, moving to stand beside Ares, "but you just give me one reason, one moment of doubt to believe you're prepared to assist me, and I will make you sorry that you ever crossed me." He paused for effect before continuing, "As Hera has discovered to her cost."

Ares held out his hands to show that he wasn't hiding anything as he pleaded, his voice as false as his smile, "Hey, I'm just along for the enjoyment ride on this one." Ares knew how true Hercules' threat was, as Hera still snarled on Olympus about the loss of her many temples at the hands of the demi-god who now stood before him. While the god of war might wish to see his half-brother roasted upon the flames of Hades' darkest volcano pit, he was very aware of just how dangerous this particular son of Zeus could turn when really annoyed. "Are you ready," he asked.

Hercules nodded his thanks to Hades, knowing that his uncle would do his best to uphold his promise of assisting Iolaus.

Suddenly both Hercules and Ares where standing outside Leah's small cottage. The woman appeared in the doorway, attracted by the sudden flash of light that accompanied Ares' arrival. She did a double-take, but after a quick swallow she took the appearance of the god of war in her stride, then pointedly ignored him as she spoke directly to Hercules. "Iolaus is awake... he's asking for you...." She never got any further as the son of Zeus moved swiftly past her and headed straight to his friend's side.

Iolaus had moved from the bed where he had awoken a short time before and was staggering across the main room, valiantly heading towards the front door. Hercules reached him just in time to help him slip into a nearby seat. "Man, this... is not good," Iolaus commented as he gently tapped his friend's arm by way of thanks, before he slipped back to rest against the chair, his exhaustion clear. "I feel like shit." Hercules had to admit that he also looked just as bad; the sweat still stood out on his brow and his face was as pale as death, with lines of strain ripping it apart. To his boyhood friend, he looked incredibly old and it tore at Hercules' heart to see him looking so vulnerable.

"It's the sword..." Leah said quietly as she followed Hercules in. "Its need of sustenance is draining him, and he's fighting it." She stood aside and allowed Ares to enter the small room. The god of war returned her compliment of earlier and totally ignored her; spying the sword, he moved quickly back and waited upon the threshold as she continued, "He's fighting a fever and should remain in bed, resting." Her tone informed everyone that this was not a new argument between the two.

"I know, Leah, but we don't have time," Hercules said, bending down and scooping his friend up. Settling him comfortably within his arms, he quickly explained what Hades had said.

"If Hephaestus did forge the sword, then he should have the ability to melt it," she said, moving aside to let the man pass. As he reached the door, she stopped Hercules and said, "But I fear that you have not been told the whole truth of this matter. There is something... something not right about this.... Take care," she advised, by way of warning as she threw a look towards the god of war, her meaning clear, before she added, "and bring Iolaus back for a visit, once this mess has all been sorted out."

Hercules glanced down at his friend, distress clearly written on his features. The fact that Iolaus had not protested his picking him up and carrying him so easily was a cause of great concern for the son of Zeus. The blond man must be feeling terrible if he was not even voicing a token protest as his friend's actions.

Iolaus, capturing his look, smiled feebly and offered weakly, "The sooner we find Hephaestus, the sooner I can toss this damned thing into the flames and destroy it." Even as he said the words, he shuddered and whimpered as raw pain flared along his already tormented nerves; the sword was fiercely fighting such a suggestion, and the smaller man wondered how much longer he could continue before his very essence and sanity was sucked into the weapon that now lay strapped across his back.

"Don't worry, Iolaus," Hercules promised, seeing his friend's pain and feeling it as sure as if the knife had bitten into his own skin. "We're in this together."

Ares had watched the scene with growing impatience, before he finally snorted out loud and demanded, "Can we get on with this...? I don't have all day, you know, and to be honest, I'm starting to feel really sick here."

Hercules glared at him, and Ares knew that he was lucky to still be alive after the blistering rage that had flared his way from the glance, but Hercules said nothing as he pushed his way forcibly by his half-brother, out into the bright sunlight.

***

Within seconds they appeared in a darkened cave, whose only light was the glow of the forges. The smell of smelting metal caused Hercules to gasp, and the heat of the room caught at him as it swirled about him.

Hephaestus, the god of the forge, was bent over the anvil, beating a length of metal into shape. At first he was not aware that he had visitors, but slowly their presence alerted him and he spun about to face them.

He frowned when he saw the small group of people who stood before him, then he nodded his head slightly in recognition of Ares, who tilted his head in return as Hephaestus spoke, "I've not yet finished that shield you wanted... come back in a few days and I'll see if I can fit it in."

Ares pulled his own face at this news before he answered, hiding his disappointment, "No matter, I've got other things to keep my attention." So saying, he looked pointedly towards his half-brother, Hercules, and Iolaus - who had used the few minutes since arriving to struggle out of his friend's grip and now stood unsteadily by his side.

Hephaestus turned his attention upon the other two men and smiled slightly when he noticed Iolaus, before he frowned and asked, "What's wrong?" He noted the paleness of the man, and the way he held himself as if he was in great pain.

Hercules looked towards his friend and could tell that he was in no condition to tell the tale, so he stepped forward and began to speak, starting from his first meeting with Iolaus in the forest, up until his discussion with Hades and what the god of the underworld had said.

Iolaus was content to let his friend do the talking as he looked about the room, fighting his own internal evil as he did so. The urge to unsheathe the sword was growing stronger with every passing moment, and he could feel the desire like a growing pang of hunger. The whispering voice seemed to be hissing louder and louder in his mind, telling him how good it would feel to just release the power of the weapon, and the rewards he would reap from such an action. It had grown in intensity since his arrival in the great underground cave.

"Iolaus?" Hercules asked again, when he noted that the smaller man had a glazed look in his eyes. Not getting an answer, he reached out and gently gripped the other man's arm. Intending only to reach his friend, he was not prepared for the smaller man's instant reaction.

Iolaus leapt away from the touch as if it burned and snarled, his tone dripping with rage, "Don't touch me." Then, realising where he was and who he was addressing, he stopped and fought valiantly to get his breathing and the raging anger that ripped at his heart under control as he apologised, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, it's getting harder and harder to think," he finally confessed, turning beseeching eyes upon his friend.

"I guess that would be the sword," Hephaestus surmised, a frown marring his scarred, but still handsome features, as he shot an angry look towards Ares, before he finished, "I have been told that it is a very powerful weapon, and will not be happy until it has been sated by blood... even the blood of gods are not safe from it."

"Why would you make such a weapon?" Hercules asked, confused, his tone one of trying to understand.

Hephaestus looked totally baffled for a moment, then shot Ares another intense look of anger before he continued, almost snarling, "I didn't make it... it's too dangerous for us to handle...." Seeing the look this earned him from Hercules, he dragged in a deep rush of air and went on to explain, only just realising that the son of Zeus didn't understand the full potential and danger from the weapon that his small friend carried, "It is not a weapon of our making.... It was made by another... a cult who have faith in only one god - Dahok, I believe his name is." He stopped again and gave Ares a hard look, but the other god just fought to look bored and concentrated intently on a small shield that had supposedly captured his attention.

Hephaestus, realising that Ares was not going to intervene with the telling, continued, "I have heard that it was forged out of the blood of many lost souls, and Dahok - knowing that we would one day be his enemy - arranged for his followers to murder a golden hind, so that the creature's blood was also mixed into its steel." He paused again, choosing his words with care. "Because the hind's blood is mixed into the actual steel, we are protected from it to some extent, but the sword can injure us as if we were mortal... and, if it were a killing blow, then we would die," he added, giving Ares a pointed look which was not lost on the demi-god. He would have commented upon it, but he had other things on his mind. "It was a weapon designed to destroy us," Hephaestus concluded.

"But you have the power to destroy it... right?" Hercules insisted, throwing a look from Hephaestus to Ares, then back. Seeing the uncomfortable look that crossed Hephaestus' face, he demanded, "Don't you?" He was not liking what he was hearing; for some reason the thought that Hera might have made the sword gave him a certain knowledge that they could destroy it, but if it was forged by another power, then maybe they would not be able to. He felt a flash of annoyance towards Hades as well, for not telling him the full story behind the weapon, but then he realised that the god of the underworld might not have been aware of its true origin.

Hephaestus shrugged as he offered weakly, "Hera did make a sword of death, but that was many years ago and was purely designed to torment the souls of mortals. She especially made it to punish one of her chosen who betrayed her, once that was accomplished to her satisfaction, I destroyed it... but whether or not I can destroy this one, I'm not sure. I do know that I cannot handle it. I have heard of it...." Again he looked pointedly towards Ares, but seeing that the god of war was going to remain silent, Hephaestus paused while he considered their options, then went on, "If what I have been told is true, then Iolaus is the sword bearer, and so he is really the only one who can handle it with impunity. My forge is the fire of all the elements, with earth, water and fire mixing with air, so it should melt it if he were to throw it in... but I have no way of knowing what the effects of such an action would be on Iolaus himself."

"I believe that it can be destroyed," Ares suddenly put in, his tone intent as he added, with certain knowledge, "and it has to be by a mortal's hand."

Hercules turned on him, demanding, anger raw with every word, "What do you know about it?" The feeling that Ares knew more about the sword than he was letting on had been growing since they had first arrived, with all the looks that Hephaestus had been giving the god of war - and with Ares' statement, he was convinced.

Ares took a step back, his own eyes flashing rage at being spoken to in such a manner. Normally such words would have ended up with the two of them locked in a desperate battle, but this time Ares took a deep calming breath and pushed his anger away as he stated quietly, "I have had... some dealings with Dahok before, and I know that whatever he's had a hand in creating will not be to the benefit of either god or mortal." He paused while he looked intently at his half-brother, judging his words before he spoke again. "And I want to see that sword destroyed as much as you do. I also know that Dahok is dependant upon the mortals to do his bidding, so while the sword can coerce and torment Iolaus into wielding the weapon, he also has the true power to stop it... if he has the will to destroy it." He paused again, before adding, "Like Hephaestus said, Iolaus is the only one who can do so with impunity. If he can destroy the sword, then he should be able to survive its destruction." Ares stopped again and, swallowing hard as if to rid himself of a bad taste, he offered, "If he does not, then I will guarantee his survival from Hades' clutches." Seeing the incredulous look that Hercules gave him, he gave a short bark of laughter and retorted, "Yes, I am that desperate to destroy it that I'd barter for his soul, because if we don't eliminate it then it will annihilate us."

"You knew this and yet... you said nothing," Hercules demanded of his half-brother, moving menacingly towards him, but before the god of war could answer in his defence, Iolaus cried out in agony and began to thrash about the room, shaking his head as he issued cries of torment as his final defences broke under the incredible pressure that the sword had brought to bear.

"Noooo..." Iolaus wailed. "I can't stand it... I can't stand it," he roared as he reached up and grabbed at his throbbing head, pulling at his long hair, as if ripping it out would ease his pain. "It's like a thousand whispering voices all demanding that I use the sword," he ranted as he turned pleading, red-rimmed eyes upon his friend, gasping, "Hercules... I can't... I'm sorry... I can't." As he spoke, he began to shake; it was as if his body was possessed and a demon was fighting for control of his soul. Slowly, inch by inch, his hand began to creep up his body, seemingly of its own volition, trailing past his neck and heading for the hilt of the sword that protruded over his shoulder. All present could see the tremendous struggle that the smaller man was putting up, but they could also see that it was a losing battle, as he gripped the hilt and slowly began to pull the sword forth, his teeth gritted, sweat pouring down his face as he courageously battled not to.

"What do we have to do?" Hercules demanded of the two gods, never taking his eyes from his friend's tormented body. He wasn't sure what he was asking; he felt so helpless in his need to help his friend, but suddenly - as if the god of the forge had spoken to him directly into his mind - he realised what his friend had to do to survive. No matter if Hercules lost his own life in the bargain, he knew that he would sell his soul to get his friend back, and that there would be takers. The god of blacksmiths just hissed out bitter words of anger; he was now totally helpless, as he had already given his knowledge of the sword and was now unable to do more. The final decision rested on the shoulders of the handsome young man, who now held the sword out as if it were a living snake, that twisted and turned within his well-trained hands.

"Iolaus," Hercules began, desperately eyeing the glint of metal as the sword was unsheathed and wielded with skill, "you've got to fight it... you have to throw the sword into the fire... into the forge, Iolaus... it's your only chance."

The shaking got stronger and all present could hear the smaller man's teeth chatter at the force of the torment. "I... can't," he gasped, as he brought the weapon to bear in front of him. "I can't... Hercules," he apologised again, his expression pleading, desperately trying to remind his friend of his earlier promise, even as he fell into a fighter's stance, his eyes begging his friend to fulfil his given word - even as the whispering voices in his mind calculated the best method of attack.

"Damn it..." Ares snarled, his own eyes fixed on the gleaming weapon, the sword that could mean even the death of a god. "Do something, Hercules... if he catches us with it, it will be a wound that will not heal."

Hercules totally ignored Ares' words, intent only on his friend and his obvious suffering. With that in mind, he moved to stand directly in front of Iolaus, just out of reach of the weapon, and captured his fevered glance with his own steady, reassuring look. Slowly, precisely, he said, "Fight it, Iolaus... you've got to remain in control... you are stronger than it is, you've fought it this long... you are stronger."

Iolaus held onto the sword with both hands and desperately fought not to let it attack. He wanted to silence the whispering words in his mind that told him what position to take up, and the hissing tone that judged the safest method of attack, but the sword had been sheathed too long, and during its captivity had drawn too much power from him. Now that it was free, it was determined not to be sheathed again, and he was too weak to prevent it from attacking, dragging his body along like a puppet as the sword swung up and arced towards his friend. He cried out in terrified alarm and warning, but Hercules had already seen the intended maladroit movement, and easily slipped out of the clumsily sweeping sword's way.

Hephaestus moved swiftly to his own cache of newly-made weapons, and threw a protective shield and sword out towards Ares and Hercules, who caught them easily. Hephaestus' own vast knowledge of warfare came to the fore as he instructed, "We need to force him over towards the forge. If Iolaus can gain control for a few seconds, he might be able to destroy it." Even as he spoke the words, he could see that the chances of that were very slim, so he added, "We must drain some of the power from the sword, to give the hunter a chance to regain control."

The glazed look had once more fallen over the smaller man's face, which was now twisted into an expression of such pure rage, such hatred that anyone who knew him could see that the only thought filling his now-controlled mind was the destruction of the men before him, and the gaining of power that their blood would give him.

Ares deftly caught the weapon that was tossed towards him and took up the stance of a well-trained warrior, his eyes aglow at the thought of the battle to come. While he might hate the idea of being injured by the sword itself, and would take every opportunity to ensure that the weapon did not come near him, he also had to admit that the prospect of the fight sent the blood racing through his veins.

Hercules also caught the weapon and shield thrown towards him, but tossed the shield aside as he knew that it would only hinder him. With practised ease, he raised the sword to head off another frenzied attack from Iolaus.

The smaller man was no longer in control of his actions, as the sword spun and parried in its vicious attack upon Hercules, who ducked, dived and dodged in an attempt to stay out of the sword's way - but he was at a distinct disadvantage, as he was not willing to hurt his friend. As he moved, he pleaded, gasping out the words, "Iolaus... you've got to fight it... I know that you... can still hear me... I know that you... don't... want to hurt me... don't let it control you...." He fell back under the onslaught, edging towards the large forge that stood in the middle of the room, slowly drawing his friend in that direction as the attack continued.

Hephaestus, seeing an offensive that Hercules would not be able to survive, ducked in and prevented the blow from landing. Then, just as swiftly, he dodged out of harm's reach before tossing an annoyed look towards Ares, who was standing back, watching the movements of the sword. Seeing this, Hephaestus snarled in anger, "Help us, you fool... if it gets one more kill, it will be too strong and Iolaus will not be able to stop it... ever... and we will be its next victims."

"I would kill the mortal first," snarled back Ares, glaring at Iolaus as if it was entirely the hunter's fault, but still wisely keeping his distance as he watched the fight continue.

"And the sword would latch onto one of us..." Hephaestus fired back, as he again slipped in to assist Hercules. "Do you fancy being taken over by it... controlled...?" Seeing the look this earned him, he added snidely, "No better than a puppet on its strings, just like those mortals that you choose to control in such a manner."

The sword, realising that it was now fighting on two fronts, tilted its angle of attack to allow for this and began to direct pointed acts of aggression towards the god of the forge; as it did so, it began to hum and slowly to glow. Iolaus was no longer in control of his actions as he fought the men before him, as strongly and definitely as if they were on the field of battle, and he was striking out against a hated enemy.

"We must tap its strength... drain it so that Iolaus can gain back some vestige of control... once it is weakened," Hephaestus stated again, as he felt Ares move up to stand beside him, then there were three of them fighting it.

The noise within the forge grew in volume, and the light intensified as the sword seemed to pull the body of Iolaus about as it fought the three men. He was no more than an extension of its fighting ability, and while all could see that he was fiercely trying to fight the weapon, he just didn't have the strength to control it any longer. His body was no longer his own, just his eyes betrayed his real feelings of the battle; they were dark with torment.

All the while Hercules had been speaking to Iolaus, pleading with him to fight the spell, to take back control. Suddenly the sword leapt forward and caught Hercules on the upper arm; it was only a slight cut, but because of the hind's blood that coated it the pain that followed was so intense that it nearly took his breath away. It did send him to his knees in shock, but he fought the intense feeling and held his ground as he countered the attack, still on his knees.

The sword had flared with a brilliant light at the drawing of blood, its humming becoming more pronounced, a chanting song of success in battle, but both Hephaestus and Ares moved in to divert its attention from Hercules while the other man recovered.

The sight of his friend being injured at his own hand seemed to give Iolaus extra vigour, as he cried out in rage and began to fight even harder to gain back control. The sword, sensing this betrayal, paused a moment in fighting the others and swiped down to open another vicious cut along his body. His face twisted with raw anguish, but he continued to fight against it.

"Throw the sword... into the fire, Iolaus..." Hephaestus shouted at he countered another attack. "It is... the only way... to ensure... your friend's survival," he added, when he noted the strength the small man gained from injuring Hercules.

Iolaus glanced at the god with anguished eyes, then slowly he nodded once as he came to a decision and began to force himself forward, struggling towards the forge that lay a slight distance in front of him. Ares, seeing this action, began a stinging offensive; using his godly powers, he leapt high above Iolaus. Coming down, he used the force of the jump to catch the sword a stunning blow, then diving into a roll, he slipped around the small man. Using all his skills as a fighter, he forced Iolaus even further towards the raging fire that seemed to leap higher into the darkened cave, as if in anticipation of the weapon coming within its grasp. As metal clashed on metal, sparks flew. The god of war's face was a written mask of concentration as he countered each blow and thrust, his own weapon flashing with heat as it began to draw friction from the other blade.

Hercules recovered from the wounding blow and relocated himself to stand beside his half-brother; together they slowly forced Iolaus closer and closer to the forge. He vacillated across the room until he was pushed firmly up against the forge itself. Blood flowed freely from his injury, his face a pale orb suffused with the glow of the forge. He looked unearthly as the sweat poured from his body.

The sword had realised its mistake of allowing the bearer to gain back some control and was now desperately trying to pull the smaller man away from the forge, but Iolaus stood with gritted teeth and sweat-streaked face, struggling against its raging whispering and seductive demands to fight his way back into the middle of the room.

Ares, bolstered by his previous attack, nipped in for another stunning assault, only to yelp in sheer agony and stumble back, crashing into Hephaestus in the process, as the sword of death bit into his own arm. The god of the forge, seeing his relation injured, moved so that the god of war fell behind him, a location where Hephaestus could protect him. The sword, seeing a weak link in the chain of besiegers, drove forward towards Hephaestus, trying to reach the fallen god, but it was not to be, as Hercules slipped in and caught the sword a severe blow, up high near the hilt.

Iolaus let out a howl of pure agony and the sword toppled to the ground, where it lay pulsing like a snake driven from under its noonday stone. Iolaus, meanwhile, crumbled to the ground and lay gasping air into his tortured lungs, a puppet whose strings had been cut, a warrior who had fought too hard and had no energy to continue, as he awaited death to welcome him, as his brave heart failed him.

Hercules rushed to his comrade's side and, without a second's thought, he scooped him up and carried him away from the writhing sword. Gently he lowered him to the ground, across the room from the weapon that had cursed his dear friend. "Herc..." Iolaus began, his voice weak, his limbs shaking with reaction. "I'm sorry... so sorry." A single tear of disappointment slipped from under his lashes, his exhaustion complete, and it ripped at Hercules' soul.

"Stop apologising," Hercules rasped, his own emotions flaring as an unreasonable anger assailed him, along with the knowledge that his friend still felt the need to apologise, even though he was the true victim and not the aggressor of the battle.

Meanwhile Hephaestus assisted Ares over towards them, helping his relative to settle back down on the ground. The sword cut to Ares' side looked bloody and deep. "Iolaus," Hephaestus spoke slowly and clearly, as if giving instructions to a child, his own exhaustion clearly showing upon his scarred features, "you have to take the sword back up, but this time, while it is weak... you need to throw it directly into the fire, before it can regain control of you."

"He can't..." Hercules began to protest in rage at such a suggestion, but a cold hand resting upon his arm stopped him from continuing, as Iolaus insisted weakly, defeat clawing at his own tone.

"He's right." He desperately wanted Hercules to understand that it needed to be done, no matter what the consequences, so taking another shuddering breath he continued, "This is the only way to ensure your safety...." He licked at his lips and glanced over towards the weapon as he confessed, "Even now I can feel it calling to me, drawing me back to it. I will know no peace until it has been destroyed... or I am dead."

"Well, damned well do it then," griped Ares, his hand clutched tightly to the wound; all could see the blood that seeped out from under his fingers - he also looked pale and worn.

Hercules opened his mouth to snarl at his half-brother, but then snapped it closed as Iolaus retorted, his tone one of deep satisfaction that he had caused the other pain, "Hurts, doesn't it...? Well remember that pain, Ares, the next time you wander casually through a battlefield, a death field of your creation."

Hephaestus closed his eyes in abject pain at the other's words as he recognised the truth behind them, but he also knew that, if Ares lived, he would not learn a lesson from his injury - that was not the god of war's way. After a few seconds of intense silence, he stated slowly, "The sword is weakened, you would never have been able to drop it otherwise, Iolaus... now... now would be the best time to destroy it."

Iolaus' face lost its look of anger and turned from Ares' stunned expression back to his friend, who was closer to him than any brother. All could see the terror clearly shining within his eyes as he spoke. "If I fail..." he weakly lifted his hand, preventing Hercules from interrupting as he forced the words out, "I want you to promise me that you'll throw me into the forge along with the sword." He kept his eyes fixed firmly upon his friend's face and witnessed the whitening of his complexion before he answered.

"I'm not going to do that," Hercules shot back, his tone one of stunned disbelief.

"Forget it," he continued to rant, "if you can't do it, then I'm not going to kill you...

Iolaus..."

The man in question reached out and grabbed the strong arm nearest to him. "You have to," he insisted, unable to contain his own fear as the words tumbled out of him. "If you don't... it will eventually wear you down and kill you, Hercules, and I can't...." He stopped and gathered his raging emotions, his tone trembling as he spoke, "I can't bear to think that I might be the cause of your death." He sobbed as he spoke the last words, the reality of the situation striking home.

Hercules, seeing the horror behind the words and knowing that Iolaus would suffer the torments of Hades if he refused, finally, slowly, nodded his head in agreement, unable to prevent his own tears from falling as he acceded to the other's request. Iolaus knew that Hercules would not let him down.

Iolaus closed his eyes, unable to bear witness to the tremendous effort it took his friend to agree. Then, opening his eyes again, he took a few deep breaths to centre his concentration, then struggled to stand up. Willing hands reached out to assist him, and he was held close while he regained his footing. He smiled his thanks towards Hercules; it was bright, eager - a well-remembered smile that caught at the other's soul - then, slowly he began to edge towards the sword which had quietened during their brief respite.

As it sensed Iolaus' approach, it began to hum again, eager for the touch of its wielder. Licking at dry lips, the small man bent and reached out, his hand pausing just before it gripped the comfortable handle that melted into his grasp. Once he held it, he closed his eyes as he fought against the incredible babbling of seductive words that promised him his heart's desire, if he would only follow its suggestions. His expression once more became tormented as the possession of Iolaus' essence began again.

Glancing briefly back at his friend, Iolaus tried to give a brief smile of confidence, but it never reached his lips as he realised that the sword was once more clouding his mind and gaining control. Suddenly, with a battle cry of old, he threw himself forward, towards the raging forge, the sword hissing and glowing brightly as it bucked against the hand that held it tightly. It was to no avail, as the mortal man, realising that he was unable to let the weapon go, plunged the sword into the bubbling fire, which hissed and crackled until the flames hit his hand and began to burn with an intensity that almost made him swoon.

Iolaus screamed - there were no other words to describe the sound that was issued from his throat; it was the sound of a dying animal that wanted very much to live, but that had suffered too much to survive. Hercules was moving forward, even before he realised that he was reacting to the sound.

He reached Iolaus' side just in time to pull him backwards as he plunged the hilt of the sword into the fire, his hand disappearing into the bubbling flames. The blond man went rigid with agony, then boneless within his friend's grasp as reaction to the pain set in, and his consciousness fled that which it could not survive. Several seconds passed before Hercules realised that he held a corpse within his tight embrace and he turned tormented, pain-filled eyes on Hephaestus, who was still kneeling by Ares' side.

The god reacted instantly to the plea in his eyes and, moving over swiftly, he bent to check for signs of life, as Hercules could not, for fear of what he would discover. Finally, letting out a sigh of deep distress, he looked up at Hercules and whispered, "I'm sorry."

The son of Zeus slumped over the fallen body of his companion and sobbed. His pain was now complete, but Hephaestus reached out and rested a firm hand upon his shoulder as he offered, "He will be returned to you, Hercules... I will speak to Hades myself... I promise... but it might take a while." Hephaestus looked over to where Ares lay, his eyes closed, to all intents and purposes sleeping. Turning back to Hercules and his friend, he continued, "Come, I have a chamber where Iolaus can lay, while I attend to Ares' wound."

Surprised at Hephaestus' words and gentle hands, Hercules looked down and winced when he noted the bloody leg and the charred hand that lay curled against the Iolaus' chest. "His hand..." he gasped, tears of reaction still slipping down his face as he indicated the wounds.

The gentle hand again came down to rest upon his shoulder as Hephaestus offered, "Have no fear, I have some very good medicine to help with those burns. They will need to be treated so that the recovery will be swift once he is returned to us." Hercules could not help but smile at Hephaestus' determination that Iolaus would be brought back from Hades' realm once more, and it gave him the strength to stand and. lifting his dead friend, he followed his uncle.

"You know," Hephaestus commented as he led the way, "while your friend is a very talented fighter, I've noticed that he does have a tendency to get into trouble."

Hercules nodded his head in agreement, unable to continue a conversation as too much of his attention was fixed upon the cooling body within his grasp. Hephaestus, seeing this, refrained from further comments as he led Hercules to a well-appointed chamber.

***

Iolaus climbed back to consciousness many, many hours later. He still felt drained and his leg and hand hurt like Hades himself, but there was no longer the background whispering that had filled his mind for the last few days. He was alone with his thoughts, and that fact alone caused him to issue a sigh of relief.

The sigh was heard by Hercules, who had spent the last day and a half sitting beside his friend's bed. Hephaestus, true to his word, had made arrangements with Hades to have Iolaus returned to him, but the stress of the battle and subsequent death had taken its toll upon the smaller man, who had lain unconscious for several hours after his return, before opening his eyes once, then slipping into a deep, healing sleep.

Ares had recovered sufficiently to depart back to his own temple, to lick at his own wounds, but not before Hercules had cornered him and discovered just exactly what it was the god of war knew about the sword. Hephaestus had returned to making his weapons in the great forge, which showed no signs of ever having been the cause of destruction of the sword that had tried to destroy them all.

Iolaus groaned, and this time when he forced open his eyes, Hercules was leaning over him, ready with a cup of water, which he held while the other man drank thirstily. "What happened?" gasped the injured man, looking at his bandage-covered hand - at least that explained why it hurt so much.

Seeing the direction of his friend's look, Hercules offered, "It was badly burned when you threw the sword into the forge."

"I did it?" Iolaus asked with some surprise. His last coherent thought had been reaching to pick the sword up again; if he had destroyed it, he had not been aware of his actions.

Hercules smiled warmly down at his friend. "Yes, you destroyed it." His smile faltered as he recalled the cost of Iolaus' actions, but he swept that thought away - that would not be dealt with until his smaller friend was stronger.

Iolaus smiled weakly at his friend and offered, "You know, I actually hoped that I might have dreamed the whole thing." He gave Hercules a look, as if asking that that might be the case.

"Sorry," the son of Zeus offered, "not a dream - although it did seem like a nightmare... of the worst quality." Seeing the look this earned him, he decided to quickly change the subject, so he continued, "But I did find out how the sword happened to... er... fall into your hands."

Iolaus snuggled to get more comfortable on the bed and, once he was settled, he raised an eyebrow, indicating that his friend was to continue.

"Ares," the other man said, as if the one name would explain all.

"Ares?" Iolaus looked totally confused, but did not miss the flash of anger that travelled across Hercules' handsome face as the other man went on.

"Yes..." Hercules felt his jaw tightening as he remembered the sorry tale that he had finally dragged out of his injured half-brother. "Apparently he has been having this, er... running battle with Dahok for quite a while, and the sword was originally given to one of Ares' warlords by the other god. The man was supposed to use it against Ares the next time they met." He paused and offered more water while he gathered his thoughts. The water was refused, so he carried on with his story. "It was them you heard fighting in the clearing; apparently Dahok also gave the mortal some pretty potent powers to use against my half-brother. Anyway, Ares finally gained the upper hand and struck the guy with a bolt of energy, but he was so weakened by the battle that he didn't want to stick around in case Dahok had any other surprises for him, so he disappeared... that's when you found the sword."

"Why did he just leave it laying about there? I mean, if it was so... so dangerous... why not just destroy it there and then?"

Hercules shook his head, indicating his own confusion as he answered, "Apparently that's just what he was planning to do. He'd only intended to be gone for a few moments while he went to fetch some help; he needed someone mortal to pick up the sword... he couldn't do it, as he didn't want to become caught by its power."

"Yeah," Iolaus sneered, his anger at Ares apparent, "but it's okay for some other poor slob to be dragged into it and sentenced to a life of hell."

Hercules sat back and looked intently at his friend; he could see the anger flashing in his eyes, could even sympathise with him, but he also knew that where Ares was concerned, Iolaus would be flogging a dead horse. As far as the god of war was concerned, mortals were there for him to use and be amused by.

Iolaus, as if realising that his anger wasn't doing either of them any good, let it out in a hiss of breath, releasing his anger as he did so. He continued, "Sorry... guess I needed to get that off my chest." Seeing the small smile this earned him, he moved to other matters. "So, what happens now?"

"Now," Hercules said, seeing how tired his friend still was, "you get some more sleep and, when you wake, a good meal, and then Hephaestus will give us a hand in getting back to see Leah... where you can rest up until your hand and leg heal and you are fit enough to travel."

"And what about Dahok, Ares and the rest of them?" Iolaus asked, his temper still bubbling at the fact that he'd been used as a pawn.

"Iolaus," Hercules began, hating to see his friend so torn up by the incident. "Ares got wounded, and take my word for it... it hurt. No matter what our feelings about him might be, he's right about this Dahok - he doesn't appear to have our best interests at heart either, so maybe your finding the sword was for the best... no innocent people died," he finished, seeing the dawn of reasoning return to his friend's eyes. "Except one," he added under his breath, knowing that at some later date he would have to tell his friend exactly what had happened... but not yet, not until Iolaus was recovered enough to accept the fact that he had once more been killed and returned to life by the gods of Olympus.

Iolaus looked satisfied with his words, knowing them to be true. If anyone else had come across the sword who had not been friends with Hercules, and therefore had no access to his knowledge and connection to the gods, a lot of people could have been killed, and the power of the sword might have grown too great for even the forge of Hephaestus to defeat. Snuggling down further in the bed, he rambled, "I almost get the feeling that there was another hand behind my finding the sword."

Hercules didn't say anything as he watched his best friend drift off into much-needed sleep, but he could not shake the feeling that what Iolaus said was true, and he wondered briefly what other surprises lay in store for them. Then, pushing that thought aside, he realised that - wherever they might be - at least they would be facing them together.

THE END

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