FIRE

By Morgan

DISCLAIMER: Hercules and Iolaus belong to MCA/Universal and probably always will. Though I’d love to have Hercules when they’ve finished with him (pretty please?) No copyright infringement intended, yadda, yadda, yadda…

Rating NC17: This story is rated NC17 for a reason. It may contain scenes of graphic violence, consensual and non-consensual sex, coerced sex, dominance/submission, bondage, and a fair amount of kink. Only the gods and my erratic muse know what else, as I have no idea where this story will end. (What can I say, I’m having fun J.) If any of these things are likely to upset you, please go play somewhere else.

Chapter One

Within the chill darkness of an ice-cavern, a single flame was glowing brightly. It was the only source of light in the cavern, and its beams reached out to every sharp facet of the walls and ceiling. The crystalline ice caught every photon, amplifying and transforming each one, leaving no part of the cavern in shadow and causing a multitude of tine rainbows to dance around the cavern.

The flame that caused all this, however, was stranger still. It was a flame that did not burn…or rather, did not consume. It existed within the palm of a female hand, hovering but an inch above her flesh. She raised her hand, and as she did so an observant watcher would have seen that her eyes, too, appeared to flame within.

Her appearance was that of a beautiful woman. Her eyes were wide-spaced and beneath the flames within them, the irises were tawny in colour, most distinctive. The eyes were surrounded by thick, dark lashes and topped by arching brows. Her nose is straight and in perfect proportion with the rest of her face, the lips full and red, the cheekbones high and bearing a natural flush. This face was surrounded by a crown of feathers, in a variety of vivid colours: ranging from deep reds to vivid blue, arranged in layers to the crown of her head, covering the area where one would assume, she has ears. From beneath this magnificent and unusual crown, a thick mane of flaming auburn curls flowed down her back and over her shoulders, long enough to reach her buttocks.

Despite the obviously freezing temperature within the ice-cavern, the woman was wearing only a simple, sleeveless gown of red satin. Beneath the gown, the voluptuous contours of her body were clearly visible as she knelt on the rough ground.

Into the silence, somehow emerging from the flame she held, there was a voice. "I hear you, Kelosia. Help is on the way."

The woman’s eyes closed briefly: an expression of relief. "My thanks, Hecate. It seems I owe you again."

And as the flame in her hand faded, she heard the whispered reply, "Perhaps more than you know."

It was a cold night, Hercules noted as he finally saw the town ahead. Windy, too. Glancing up at the sky, he saw clouds scudding across the half-moon overhead. The cold didn’t usually bother him, though. It was one of the many advantages of his godly heritage. Even so, he was glad he would be spending tonight under a roof. The demigod’s pace quickened as he walked down the road into the town.

In the town’s only inn a very disgruntled hunter waited. His normally golden curls were dull and matted: the result of an unplanned dunking in filthy water earlier in the day. Iolaus was sitting at the bar, his shoulders hunched, his nose buried in a tankard, complaining to anyone fool enough to listen about the terrible day he’d had. When Hercules walked through the door, Iolaus’ current companion glanced up, relief clearly written on his face as he saw and recognised the demigod. He hurried away from the bar (Iolaus, apparently not noticing he was now talking to an empty space, did not even pause in his narrative), approaching Hercules with a speed born of desperation.

"Hercules, you’ve got to talk to him, He won’t listen to me."

Hercules frowned. This did not sound good. "What’s wrong?" he asked the man, but at that moment he caught the drift of Iolaus’ drunken tirade and immediately understood. Not waiting for a reply, he said quietly, "Okay, I’ll take care of it."

At the approach of his friend, Iolaus looked up and grinned. "Hey, Herc," he slurred. Then he took another swig of ale and went right on talking.

"Iolaus," Hercules began, already uncomfortable as he took a seat next to his friend, "would you please keep your voice down." He glanced around the room. He saw a number of glowering looks from the tavern’s other patrons. Most of them were from men, but there were four centaurs listening as well and they did not look happy.

"How," Iolaus demanded loudly, "was I shupposed to know she was Declon’s girlfriend? I mean, what doesh she see in him anyway?"

"Iolaus…" Hercules said warningly. Who was Declon? What was Iolaus so riled about? It wasn’t like him to get into this state over a woman.

Iolaus, it seemed, was just getting warmed up. "Well, it washn’t his tail that caught her eye, was it?" He laughed, but there was a bitter edge to his laughter. "A normal man’sh got no chance with them around," he added. Iolaus was quieted briefly as he once again lifted the tankard, this time draining it in one long gulp. Hercules began to hope he might have got whatever-it-was out of his system. His hopes were dashed instantly as Iolaus clapped a hand on the demigod’s shoulder and asked in a conspiratorial whisper, "How in Hades do they…" — a theatrical glance around the room, as if to make sure they were alone — "fuck anyway? I mean, can you even picture it?"

"Iolaus! For the love of — Shut up!" Hercules glanced at the group of centaurs. There was going to be real trouble in a moment.

Iolaus drew away from him, obviously offended. "Aw, why am I talking to you, anyway? Teraia falls for a half-horsh, you fell for a — "

Hercules clapped a hand over Iolaus’ mouth before he could finish that sentence. Later, he would berate himself for acting in anger. At the time, he saw it as the only way to avoid the fight that was rapidly becoming inevitable. "Iolaus," he sighed, "I’ll apologise for this in the morning." Then his fist connected with Iolaus’ jaw. It wasn’t a hard punch — not for Hercules, anyway — but it was more than enough to send the drunken hunter into the arms of Morpheus. Before Iolaus could hit the floor, and maybe injure himself further, Hercules had caught him, and slung his friend’s senseless body over his shoulder.

As he turned to the innkeeper, Hercules noted with some relief that the four centaurs were returning to their drinks. "Please tell me you have a room," he asked the innkeeper.

He sounded so plaintive that the innkeeper grinned. "Second on the right," he answered, gesturing.

"Thanks," Hercules said, and hauled his unconscious friend away from trouble.

"No." Hercules shook his head, pushing his empty plate away with a gesture of satisfaction. "I don’t know what got into him. He’s not usually like that at all."

The innkeeper shrugged. "Well, drink does loosen the tongue."

"Not that much," Hercules disagreed. He frequently encountered that sort of prejudice against the centaurs, but he’d never expected to hear it from Iolaus. It just wasn’t like him. "I just don’t understand it," he said, for the third time that morning.

"Perhaps I can shed some light on it for you."

Hercules looked up into the deep brown eyes of a beautiful young woman. Now that was a welcome sight this morning, he thought as she smiled.

"I’m Teraia," she introduced herself, offering a hand. "You must be Hercules."

"Yes, I am," he agreed, standing and taking her hand briefly. So this was the woman Iolaus had been grumbling about.

She sat down at the table and he joined her. "Is Iolaus alright?" Teraia asked.

Her concern seemed genuine. "He’s sleeping. When he wakes up he’s going to have the worst hangover of his life. Teraia, you said you know what happened?"

"May I have some water?" she asked the innkeeper. As the man scurried away, she turned back to Hercules. "I met Iolaus at Declon’s forge yesterday. He was…interested in me."

Hercules nodded wryly. So far this sounded like normal Iolausian behaviour. "I got that impression," he admitted carefully.

"I tried not to encourage him, but he’s such a nice man and I did enjoy the company. Declon got a bit jealous." Teraia went on with her story. It sounded like Iolaus was just being his usual self, trying to impress a beautiful woman with tales of his adventures. Teraia believed that Declon had overheard something Iolaus said and read an insult into it. Somehow, the centaur and his friends talked Iolaus into a drinking competition. While Teraia didn’t go into detail, Hercules found he could imagine the scene quite easily: Iolaus was very competitive anyway and it wasn’t hard to use the hunter’s pride against him. The scene he had witnessed last night was beginning to make sense.

Teraia insisted she had tried to stop the centaurs baiting Iolaus, but to no avail. Declon, determined to teach the hunter a lesson, had put something in Iolaus’ ale…

"What, exactly?" Hercules demanded.

Teraia had to admit she didn’t know. "I’ve seen them use it before, Hercules. It’s harmless. The effects should have worn off by the time he wakes. It would just have made him talkative. And more… aggressive. I hope he didn’t cause any trouble?"

"It could have been worse," Hercules evaded.

Iolaus chose that moment to make his appearance. He staggered out of the inn, one hand shielding his eyes from the light, sporting a purple bruise on his chin where Hercules had hit him. He leaned heavily against the doorpost and Hercules got up to give him a hand. He guided the unsteady hunter to the table and sat him down. By the time they reached it, Teraia was gone. Hercules couldn’t blame her for making a discreet exit.

"How do you feel?" Hercules asked him casually. "Some water, here," he called to the innkeeper.

Iolaus gave him a disgusted look. "Herc, I’m thirsty, not dirty."

"Would you prefer milk?" Hercules asked. Iolaus made a face. "Water it is," Hercules decided, then repeated his question: "How do you feel?"

Iolaus raised both hands to his head, groaning. "Like I had a lot to drink. I don’t even remember meeting you here, Herc."

Hercules raised an eyebrow. "Really? I got here just in time to save your butt."

The innkeeper arrived with a tankard of water. Iolaus accepted it, looked at it, briefly considered just pouring it over his aching head, then took a sip. At least it was cold. Placing the tankard carefully on the table, he felt his jaw gingerly. "I got into a fight?" he guessed.

Hercules looked a little embarrassed. "Uh…no. That was me."

Iolaus stared at him. "You hit me?

"Iolaus, I had to do something. You were about to start a fight, and four angry centaurs against one very drunk hunter are not good odds."

"I don’t get it. What was I doing?"

"Only sitting in the bar telling everyone who would listen how you felt about women who bed centaurs."

Iolaus opened his mouth. Closed it again.

"I tried to shut you up, but you wouldn’t have it. You were about to start on me and Serena. So I shut you up the quickest way I could think of."

Iolaus shoved the tankard out of the way and leaned his head on the table in front of him. "Oh, gods…" he groaned, the words indistinct. He squinted up at his friend. "I didn’t say all that…did I?"

Hercules nodded gravely.

"Herc, I’m sorry."

"I’m sorry I had to hit you. Iolaus, I know you didn’t mean it. But I want you to get fit — fast. We’re leaving town…unless you want to spend the day grovelling to all the centaurs you’ve insulted."

"Iolaus, I know it wasn’t your fault. But you started it. Chasing a girl young enough to be your daughter."

Iolaus wasn’t sure how they’d managed to start arguing about this again. Hercules had seemed fairly understanding about it earlier. But as the day wore on, somehow they’d got back on the subject and now Iolaus wasn’t sure if his headache was the result of his hangover, or listening to Hercules’ comments on his sexual habits.

The hunter forced a smile and tried one last time to lighten the conversation a little. "Herc, what can I say? Teraia was a beautiful woman and I love…"

"…Making a fool of yourself," Hercules finished for him.

"Not where I was going."

Hercules stopped walking and grabbed his friend’s arm, making Iolaus face him. "Iolaus, I’m your friend. As a friend, I’m worried about you. When is this skirt-chasing going to stop?"

Iolaus shrugged. "When it stops functioning, I guess. Which won’t be any time soon." He hesitated, then added, "Or maybe when I find the right one."

Hercules raised his eyes to the heavens. "The ‘right one’? Iolaus, you’ve known thousands of women."

"That’s right. And the only one who ever meant a damn to me is dead. So drop it, Herc."

"I’m sorry." The demigod’s blue eyes were stricken. He truly hadn’t meant to bring back those memories. It was so rare for Iolaus to mention his marriage, it was easy to assume he wasn’t thinking of it. Hercules, of all people, should have known better.

"’S okay," Iolaus muttered.

They walked in silence for a while, Hercules wanting to continue the conversation, but not quite daring to. Eventually, it was Iolaus who spoke.

"It’s my fault," he said thoughtfully. "I guess I just want too much. That woman unlike any other. A man only finds that once in a lifetime, right?"

"Not necessarily," Hercules disagreed kindly. "What is it you want, Iolaus? Another Ania?"

"Gods, no. I mean, I was crazy in love with her, Herc, but no one will ever be like her. I guess…" He threw up his hands in frustration. "I want it all. Someone who needs me…but I can’t stand it when women cling too much. Someone who knows how to laugh…but stable enough to keep me out of trouble." He grinned, turning that into a joke. "Beautiful, of course, but I want more than that. I want… I want to know that I can go away and when I come back she’ll be there, just like she was when I left. And I want someone who makes me feel…I dunno. Different." Iolaus laughed suddenly. "And single, would be a good start."

On that point, at least, Hercules had to agree.

Snatches of memories were coming back to Iolaus: enjoying a conversation (as far as he remembered, totally innocent) with a beautiful woman, telling her about his latest adventure with Hercules…her centaur friend seemed offended by his story. After it was all a blur. He seemed to remember sharing a drink with a pair of centaurs…accepting their challenge (why in Hades did he do that?)…then, nothing. He didn’t even remember Hercules turning up, though he believed every word of Hercules’ version of events.

Believing it was easier, in the end, than thinking he might have been speaking his true thoughts.

Iolaus was angry, truthfully. Sure, he had been attracted to Teraia. But she was a beautiful woman: he couldn’t possibly be the only man who’d ever shown an interest. Besides, being attracted to a woman wasn’t a crime, was it? Why had Declon done that to him? Just a practical joke?

"…Iolaus?" Hercules said for the third time.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you’re hungry yet."

Iolaus shuddered. "Don’t mention food. My stomach feels like someone built a bonfire in it."

Hercules grinned. "That’ll teach you to try and out-drink a centaur." But his look was sympathetic. "Maybe you’ll feel better if…" He broke off suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Iolaus couldn’t hear a thing but the normal sounds of nature all around them.

Hercules was still, listening. "This way." He set off at a near-run.

With a shrug, Iolaus followed. You got used to it around Hercules.

What they found was a group of four men, two of them armed, surrounding a prisoner. Their captive was a woman; at Iolaus’ first sight of her she was lying on the ground, her face hidden from him. Then she scrambled to her feet and something in her movements made Iolaus realise he knew her. Almost in a daze, he watched one of the men reach toward her. Then he got a good grip on his sword, knowing what Hercules would do.

The fight did not take long.

Four men lay around the clearing. Hercules reached out a hand to help the woman to her feet. "Alani. I don’t know whether to be angry or pleased to see you." He looked around the clearing at the vanquished men. "What’s going on here?"

She glanced around, almost in imitation of his gesture. Tossing her dark curls she answered, "A little misunderstanding, Hercules. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" Iolaus repeated incredulously. "It doesn’t look like nothing!"

One of the men, more conscious than his companions, stirred and dragged himself into a sitting position. "We were burning a witch," he spat. "What gives you the right to stop us?"

"I’m Hercules," Hercules told him, as if that answered the question. "And that’s no way to speak of a lady. Alani’s no threat to you."

Somewhat sheepishly, Alani said, "I don’t think you’ll convince them of that, Hercules."

Hercules gave her a look. "Why? What have you done?"

"Defended myself," she replied firmly, raising her chin defiantly.

Hercules spread his hands. "Oh, boy," he muttered. Turning back to the man, he told him, "I’m sorry, my friend, but whatever she’s done, witchcraft isn’t a crime. Even if it was, this didn’t look like a fair trial to me." Looking at Alani he said with determination, "You and I are going to have a talk."

She gave him a mischievous grin. "Okay. When we get out of here."

"I seem to remember you’re a healer, Alani," Iolaus said, as he handed her a share of the meat. "I don’t suppose you can do anything about this headache?"

Hercules smirked. "It’s not a headache, it’s a hangover. And you deserve it, Iolaus."

"You could try willowbark tea," Alani suggested.

"Tea? Ugh!" Iolaus made a face and Alani laughed.

Hercules leaned back against a tree trunk. "Alani, what are you up to, anyway. I thought you were supposed to stay in Calydon."

With the demigod’s words, all merriment faded. Iolaus glanced at the girl with some apprehension. "Yeah," he agreed. "You told us there has to be a guardian there."

"There is," Alani assured them. She smiled at Hercules suddenly. "Don’t worry. You won’t be hearing tales of ‘the beast of Calydon’ on the rampage again."

Hercules returned her smile wryly: she’d seen right through that question. "I’ll take your word for it," he promised. "Tell me something: on the road earlier, how did you know I was nearby?"

She shrugged. "I didn’t. But I thought of you, and… The link you forged between us is still there, you know."

…Of Hecate’s pendant, lying cool against his own skin. He lifted Alani’s hand and placed it over the pendant, the symbol of the goddess she served. He covered her hand with his own. Hecate, help us. Help me. He knew this could be done, but not how. He didn’t have Dione’s gift, couldn’t forge a link between them himself.

You are linked, son of Zeus. Your blood is in her veins. Use it.

Hercules smiled with relief when she spoke. "I’m fine, Alani." He helped her to sit up, still supporting her with his arm. "I have strength to spare."

The memory was there, and then gone. Hercules was silent for a moment, taking in the implications of Alani’s words. Then, a little embarrassed, he said, "I don’t have the benefit of Hecate’s training. I don’t know how to block it."

"I’m not complaining," Alani insisted, recognising that he was trying to apologise. "It saved my life two years ago, and saved me a lot of trouble, today."

Iolaus stared into the flames and chewed on his supper with intense concentration. Alani had always made him uncomfortable. To hear her speak so casually about her powers was…unnerving.

Hercules was speaking again. "So what brings you here? Or can’t you tell me?"

"Someone needs my help," Alani said.

Iolaus grinned, trying to sound normal. "Talks just like her father, doesn’t she, Herc?"

Hercules returned his smile with something like pride. "Yes, she does." And why shouldn’t he feel proud of her? He’d never gotten the chance to watch his other children grow to adulthood. With a more serious look, Hercules turned back to Alani. "Maybe I’m missing something here. I thought you’d never been out of Calydon."

"Not until my mother…died."

"And since?"

"Hecate finished my training. About a month ago she asked me if I thought I was ready to leave Calydon. I told her I was. Then five days ago she brought me a message from Kelosia. She needs help. So I’m going."

Kelosia…

The name, so casually spoken by Alani rang in Iolaus’ ears, drawing forth an ancient response from somewhere deep within, even though he was sure he had never heard it before. He missed a chunk of the conversation. "Who’s Kelosia?" he blurted out suddenly, interrupting.

Alani frowned, studying the hunter for a moment. "She’s…kind of an old friend. I met her when I was a child."

Iolaus noticed the odd stress in her words, but let it pass.

"What sort of trouble is she in?" Hercules asked.

Iolaus already knew what was coming. He was torn. He didn’t want to get dragged into Alani’s life again…he knew Hercules would want to spend time with her…neither of them could let someone in trouble go by…yet for some reason he couldn’t define, he was afraid. And drawn.

"I don’t know until I get there," Alani confessed.

"And where’s ‘there’?"

Alani was silent.

"Alani…" Hercules warned.

Reluctantly, she told them. "Pyros."

Her words were greeted with complete silence. Iolaus looked from Hercules to his daughter, wondering which of them would speak first. It certainly wasn’t going to be him.

Finally, Hercules broke the silence. "How were you going to get there, Alani? Swim?"

"No. I’ll take a ship."

"You’re crazy!" Iolaus blurted out. "At your age, unarmed. You’d find yourself in a slave market in no time."

Alani’s head jerked up, her eyes flashing with anger. Iolaus felt something like a weight slam into his chest, knocking the breath from his body and lifting him clear off the ground, throwing him across the clearing to land against a tree. His knees buckled and he slid to the ground.

"Alani!" Hercules shouted, hurrying to Iolaus’ side.

The hunter, dazed but unhurt, got to his feet slowly. "It’s alright, Herc." He glanced at Alani. "I forgot. I’m sorry."

His apology was obviously the last thing she had expected. Alani looked down, then back at Iolaus. "I shouldn’t have lost my temper." It was as close to I’m sorry as she was likely to get. She lifted her chin, proudly. "But now you see…I’m not the defenceless child I was two years ago." Hecate’s silver pendant gleamed between her breasts. In the half-light of evening, she looked a great deal older than her sixteen years.

Hercules was silent, looking at her. She looked so much like her mother, Dione. But Dione hadn’t been quite so unpredictable. "Alani…I’ve no doubt that you can take care of yourself." If she couldn’t, Hecate would take care of her. The capricious goddess had promised him that much. "But would you like us to come with you? If your friend is in trouble, maybe I can help."

Iolaus mentally surrendered. The choice was being made for him. If, he thought uneasily, I ever had a choice.

Pyros was probably the most inappropriately named island in the known world. A mountain of ice, named "Fire". And that was only the first strange thing about Pyros. The island’s unique climate was the second thing. In the midst of the temperate Greek islands, all of them green and full of life, Pyros was cold and dead. Nothing would grow there, nothing could live. Which was the third odd thing…who was Alani’s friend, that she could live there?

That question, at least, Alani was able to answer when Iolaus’ curiosity got too much for him. "Kelosia is immortal," Alani had explained. "The cold isn’t a problem for her. Nor is hunger."

"So what about us?" Iolaus had demanded. "How are we supposed to survive out there?"

Hercules had told him, "We take supplies with us. And a lot of warm clothing."

It had proved impossible to find a ship captain willing to ferry them to Pyros. One captain, offered to take them close to the island and let them have a rowboat. That was the best they could do. Sailors are a superstitious lot, and Pyros had a deserved reputation.

The island was surrounded by mists — a white ghost rising from the waves. Iolaus, standing at the bow of the ship, felt cold just looking at it. A silent, unnatural presence, towering over their tiny ship. His friendship with Hercules had taken Iolaus to many stranger places, so why was he so sure this was different? Perhaps it was the superstition of the sailors getting to him. Every one of them, it seemed, had a story to tell of Pyros: of strange lights in the sky, of mermaids and nymphs, of strange creatures where everyone knew no one could live…and they all thought their passengers were crazy to be going there. To which Iolaus would reply that he considered sanity overrated.

Ah, what was he worried about? That was the trouble with sea-voyages: too much time to think, leading Iolaus to an introspection that was very unlike him. Iolaus turned away from the view, pulling his fur-lined cloak more tightly around him. Hercules was securing their supplies in the rowboat. They would be ready to leave soon.

"Ready?" Hercules looked up at Iolaus’ approach.

"As I’ll ever be. Where’s Alani?"

"Below. She’ll be…here she is."

Alani emerged from the fo’c’sle, swathed in a thick cloak. She smiled a greeting when she saw the two men waiting for her. She had changed, Iolaus had to admit. He had noticed it more and more in the days they had travelled together. She wasn’t merely older, she was more self-confident and undeniably more powerful. She still made Iolaus nervous.

"Alani, what part of the island do we need to head for?" Hercules asked her.

"Doesn’t matter," she shrugged.

"Do you know where we’re going?"

"Up."

Iolaus shook his head. "That’s clear."

Alani smiled mysteriously. "Kelosia knows we’ll arrive today. She lives about halfway up the mountain. If we start to climb, she’ll meet us."

"She knows we’re here? How, exactly?"

Alani looked at him for a long moment. "Iolaus, you know what I am. Do you really want to know, ‘exactly’?"

Iolaus gave up. "No."

As the hunter turned away with a frown, he heard Hercules ask Alani if she’d had to do that.

Alani laughed merrily. "I’m sorry, Iolaus," she said to the hunter’s back. "You’re just such an easy target."

To Hercules, Iolaus said, "And she wonders why she was taken for a witch."

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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