Dead Man, Walking by Taleen
RATED PG-13: 7 sec.
This is a prequel to the episode "The God You Know"
The author of this story is Taleen at taleen@hotmail.com
Please. Let it be quick, the man on the horse prayed silently, then laughed at himself in derision. When had he ever said 'Please'? And who would hear him anyway? There was no one left who would care.
"I'll say one thing. Ye got balls. Sittin' there laughin' like thet." The renegade Captain hawked a gob of mucous onto the ground, wiped his mouth and chortled. "'Speshlee in yer sitchi-a-shun an' all…"
The rider's glare didn't faze the speaker at all, but only added to the ruffian's merriment. The horseman looked away then, his mouth too dry to spit out his contempt. A wave of dizziness made him sway in the saddle; the rough hemp tightened around his throat when the stallion shifted restlessly. His thighs grasped the animal's ribs as he tried to keep himself upright.
Not yet. Not yet. He was still alive, there was still hope, he was a survivor…
His arms were bound behind his back, so tightly it impeded the circulation to his hands and made his shoulders ache. Blood still leaked from a slash on his scalp and trickled down over his forehead; it seeped into his left eye and stung. If he licked his lips he tasted copper from the cut on his mouth-someone's mailed fist had slammed him hard, and his tongue kept poking at a loose tooth.
Hope was a fool's prayer to non-existent gods.
The horse's tail flagged and the thick vegetative smell of fresh manure rose to his nostrils and made him gag. All his senses seemed to be hyperalert, verging on divine. His mount sidestepped again and he lifted in the saddle, attempting to alleviate the strain; his heart suddenly started hammering in his chest. He didn't want to die. Not like this. Gods…give me a sword…let me go down fighting…
The leader noticed his effort and grinned, "Lookee, boys, he don' wanna hang." He raised his wineskin in a sloppy salute and leaned forward, drawling in a confiding tone, "Ye know what happens when ye hang? If yer lucky yer neck'll snap." Thumb and middle finger made the accompanying gesture. "If yer not… " He grinned as he raked his gaze up and down the blackclad figure, "Ye'll jest dangle there, ever so slowly chokin' to death, with the hot piss runnin' down yer leg and the shit fillin' yer drawers. Won't thet be a pretty sight, boys? Hee hee hee."
The victim refused to respond, determined not to give them the satisfaction of knowing they'd gotten to him. He tried in vain to shut out the guffaws as his imagination took up where the Captain's words had left off. Make it quick. Don't leave me hanging on, suffocating, soiling myself… Don't let me hear their laughter as I die... his revulsion to that scenario made him despair. Come on then, fuckers, do it now. Get it over with.
Unfortunately the ragtag troop had no intention of speeding up the proceedings. They meant to dawdle and delay, sharing around the wineskins until they got bored or ran out of alcohol, whichever came first, and that could be some time to come.
They were in no hurry to end the party. After all, 'twasn't every day they got to lynch the God of War.
The joking, drinking and catcalling continued, the insults now falling on deaf ears. The horse would shake its head or stamp its foot impatiently and the rope would alternately tighten or slacken. Ares was too bone-weary to pay attention to the rowdies, too exhausted to care any more. His thighs were one constant cramp from his struggle to control the beast he straddled. He'd lost all feeling in his fingers eons ago.
Finally the Captain, tiring of the game, threw down his empty wineskin and jostled his way through his men to stare up at Ares. The ex-God ignored him, preferring to gaze out at a distant mountain peak. Maybe it was Olympus… home… He no longer knew.
"When ya gonna do it, Boss?"
"Now." The Captain spat. "Hang 'im."
Noooooooo… Ares screamed silently. Whoever is out there--let the snap of bone be the last sound I hear…
One of the men drew out his whip and lashed the stinging tip at the horse's flank. It reared and whinnied and for a minute the tension on the rope was gone, until the stallion's distress made it bolt, trying to outrun the hurt.
Ares was wrenched out of the saddle. Brothers? Sisters? Gods, PLEASE!
No one answered. Those gods who still lived cared naught for a traitor; they had their own concerns. He swung in an arc, twisting and kicking ineffectually. Multicolored sprays of light blossomed in the blackness and faded; grinning death galloped toward him out of a blurry white tunnel, yet seemed to take forever to reach him-until a thrown blade severed the strands and dropped him to the ground.
He landed on his knees and fell forward, plowing a furrow into the earth with his chin, missing the horse-apples by an inch. Groaning, he flopped over and gasped for breath through burning airways. Two warriors, a tall one and a shorter one with paler hair, came into sharp focus-no, it can't be-he recoiled as recognition set in but found it impossible to tear his eyes away. They battled his would-be executioners until the last one took off running. Knife in hand, the shorter one approached and knelt to sever Ares' bonds. The Olympian groaned and tried to hide his face in the dirt, in that single moment wanting more than ever to die.
"Hey pal, let me help you up… waitaminit… Ares?"
"Ares?" the other rescuer turned at the name.
Oh Tartarus.
The hair was grayer, the face showing some age, though not as much as would be expected of a purely mortal man after 25 years, but the identity was unmistakable. The ex War God sighed.
"Hello, brother."
Iolaus joked as he dabbed a wet rag at Ares' scalp wound, washing away the blood from his forehead. "Ya know, I've seen a little cut like this turn all green and swollen and full of oozing pus after a battle, and then we'd have to cut off the guy's arm or leg or… whatever… and cauterize it with a redhot knife, and the stink from the burning flesh, ooooh man! Rank."
Ares stared at him in horror.
"Of course, in your case we'd have to cut off your head… Nevermind. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy." The blond chuckled, missing the dirty look sent his way as he got up and took his place by the fire.
"Ares, who did this to you?" Hercules asked as he reached out to give the rabbit-on-spit another turn. Wouldn't do, speaking of burnt flesh, to burn their meal.
"You just fought them, " the Ex War God answered shortly; the smell of cooking meat and juices dripping in the fire made him salivate and took most of his attention. Ravenous, he looked at the first solid food he'd seen in days and could hardly wait to eat even though he suspected, with the facial cuts and bruises and the raw rope marks on his throat, it would hurt like hell to chew and swallow. He wasn't sure he'd be able to manage but he'd damn well try. If he were eating he wouldn't have to make small talk. After all, what could he say to these men? How many times had he tried to kill them? Yet here they were, saving his life, feeding him and, discounting the runt's asinine comments, being reasonably nice to him.
Being heroes in fact. He despised heroes, except for one…
"I think that's done, Herc." Although he'd reached his sixties Iolaus' energy for battle apparently hadn't diminished-he still jumped around like a bobcat stung by a bored god's firebolt-and neither had his appetite for food. He ripped off one of the rabbit's legs and passed it to Ares, licked the hot grease from his fingers and tore into his own chunk of flesh. Eating was a priority for Iolaus, but being curious he had to talk too, even with his mouth full.
"So-" he swallowed, nearly choked and hurriedly drank some water. "We heard there was a big rumble in Olympus last year… what went down?"
"We did." Ares replied shortly, concentrating on his food.
"All of you?" the blond sputtered.
"All that matter." He exhaled and paused, with rabbit-filled fingers halfway to his lips. "Athena was running the show-after my brother took out Dad." He looked pointedly at his half-sibling. "Tell me, Herc, did the Furies come after you? No? Too bad. But they're dead now, so you're off the hook."
Iolaus glanced sideways at his friend and spoke quickly, "You were saying about Athena?"
"Dead, gutted by-Xena," Ares admitted reluctantly and looked away.
"How in Hades-?
"He's dead too."
"Hades is dead? Then who's running the underworld?"
Ares shrugged.
"How was Xena able to do this?" Hercules asked.
"Michael-you remember him? Sanctimonious bastard." Ares spat to one side. "His so-called 'peaceful, loving' God," the ex War God's voice dripped with sarcasm, "gave her the power to kill us all, so long as Eve lived."
"Artemis?"
"Shot-Xena again. She boiled Poseidon to death in his own ocean. She destroyed Hephaestus, Deimos..." He held up his other hand and counted them off, his distress mounting. "Even Discord lost her head."
"Literally?"
"Yeah, literally, it rolled on the beach and got covered in sand."
"Ewwww, gross." Iolaus screwed up his face.
"Yeah, it was." Ares was getting fed up. "Look, what's with the third degree?"
"Well, last time we saw Dite she was pretty upset, ya know? All in black-kinda spooky… and… and sad. But she wouldn't say anything."
"How long ago was that?" the Olympian's interest quickened.
"Year ago, maybe? Herc?" Iolaus looked to his friend for confirmation, but Hercules sat with his hands to his face. Mourning the destruction of his immortal family-Hephaestus had been a friend, and he'd always gotten along with Hades-he tried not to regret his part in the downfall of the Gods. The baby…
Iolaus could see Hercules was not in the present; he turned back to the man they'd rescued. "So, ah-how come-you-didn't-?" He made a throat slitting gesture.
"Die? I'm mortal. It's terminal, just slower." Mortality was obviously not a good fit-the Olympian had lost weight and his black hair had gone grey at the temples.
"How did that happen?"
Before the ex-God could answer Hercules interrupted. "Xena. It was Xena again, wasn't it?"
Ares squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. After a few seconds he resumed chewing without answering.
"Xena?" Iolaus laughed. "I always knew she hated Ares but… "
The demigod saw the misery lance across his brother's gaunt features at his friend's words. Hercules suspected more to the story, and felt unaccustomed sympathy. "Iolaus…"
"What? What'd I say? If she took out the others why would she leave him alive? Unless that's a punishment in itself-"
"Iolaus-"
Ares threw down the last shred of meat, tired of the questions, his appetite gone. "You're right. It's part of her plan to punish me for being what I was born to be and for doing what I do…did." Doubt assailed him, battering at his heart. He'd actually thought, after she helped him defeat the Furies and hid him on the farm away from the warlords, that she might actually care about him. Obviously he'd been fooling himself. She was clearing her conscience of the debt she owed him, nothing more. Even these two knew better.
"She hates me," he said, and turned his head away, whispering to himself, "And I love her."
Iolaus bit his lip and made it bleed.
He looked askance across the fire. Had he heard that right? Ares loved Xena? The former War God, showing such tender feeling…?
Of course Xena was special; Iolaus had loved her once. Or, at least he had thought he did when she'd seduced him. Nights in her arms had been pure bliss, but her silky voice had whispered betrayal in his ears, urging him to murder his best friend. She'd almost succeeded in her plan. If Herc hadn't been the hero, and the friend, that he was…
But that Xena was gone, and here in front of him was a man who loved the new Xena. Had Ares helped her somehow? Was that why, although he was miserable as a mortal, he still lived? Maybe that question was too personal, even for Iolaus, to ask
What could he say? He took another bite of his meal-and uncharacteristically kept his mouth shut.
Hercules felt himself flush as he glanced at his companion, remembering the embarrassment he'd felt when Iolaus came back to the camp and found his best friend and Xena together, so soon after her treachery… Yes, he too had made love to the Warrior Princess. It had been a strong but ultimately limited attraction between them; he realized he had not loved her, not as he had loved Deianeira or later Serena. Xena had been wise enough to recognize that, choosing to walk her new path alone, at least until she met Gabrielle. Nevertheless the Warrior Princess and Hercules remained staunch friends and allies in the war against evil. And in that war Ares had been on the wrong side.
But here was his half-brother, a man he'd grown accustomed to despising through a lifetime of thwarting his murderous schemes, a man who had become vulnerable the same as other men to death-here was a man confessing to love, and of the same woman...
What could he say? Ares would undoubtedly not appreciate his sympathy. Better to say nothing.
He wondered if Xena knew Ares loved her… and if maybe she… no, not possible. Was it?
Ares instantly regretted his inadvertent revelation. Fool! Your brother could use that against you. But no, no-he wouldn't. Hercules had always been soft and Ares had scorned him for it. Who was the weakling now? Love? Bah!
Yet in eons no other woman had touched his heart-his body, yes, but not his heart. Her beauty, strength, and intelligence were like none other. He had admitted it to himself, and he had told her to her face. He did love her. And finally he had attached no strings to it, no conditions. He'd learned from Gabrielle's example. What a joke.
It wasn't enough but it was all he'd had to give. Now at least she tolerated him. Treated him slightly better than she had that nincompoop Joxer. But it was all too clear, in hindsight-the woman had no room in her heart for him.
What could he say?
He'd already retrieved his sword. The Captain, ultimately a coward when the tide had turned, had dropped the blade as he'd fled. It was time to go.
The Olympian stood up slowly, so as not to fall over. His legs were still rubbery-he'd look a damn fool face down in the fire after surviving the lynch mob. He felt like a dead man, walking to his own grave.
"Where you goin'?" Iolaus asked.
"Got places to be, people to see."
"I just asked…"
Ares relented. "I gotta get to Rome."
"Why Rome?" Hercules looked up curiously.
"Someone there-needs my help. "My sister needs me. And Xena will show up, I can almost guarantee it. I'll see her again… He berated himself. Idiot! Guess hope springs eternal after all.
"Good luck then." Good luck with Xena, Hercules wanted to say, but couldn't out loud.
"Yeah," Ares started to turn, stopped, toed a pebble on the ground without looking at either of his companions. "Uh-thanks."
"You're welcome, Ares."
"Yeah, yeah, see you around, " Iolaus chimed in, around a mouthful of meat.
"Good luck in Rome," Hercules repeated.
The Olympian looked his brother straight in the eye then, nodded, threw his shoulders back (wincing) and with chin up started down the path toward the nearest seaport. He'd get out of sight over the ridge before he let go of the façade.
"Shouldn't we go with him? He might need help."
"He might. But somehow, Iolaus, I suspect this is something he has to do alone."
Hercules and Iolaus were headed downhill from the Acropolis after their meeting with the town elders when they saw a familiar-looking golden horse and rider on the street ahead of them.
"Xena!" Iolaus yelled, and craning his neck, added, "And there's Gabrielle!"
The riders dismounted and walked quickly toward the two men; warm hugs were shared all around as they met. Hercules held Xena at arms-length and said, "Time's been good to you. You don't look a day older…"
Xena smiled. "We had a really good rest."
"Yeah. Thanks to Ares," Gabrielle said.
"Oh hey, speaking of Ares, we ran into him the other day. He wasn't looking so good." Iolaus shook his head.
"Oh?" Xena's brow rose.
"My brother," Hercules forestalled his friend, "ran into a lynch mob."
"Guest of honor at a rope-testing party." With his usual tact, Iolaus grinned and put his hand to his throat, making his eyes bulge and his tongue hang out.
"He's dead?" Xena's face whitened; she exchanged a quick glance with Gabrielle. Hercules caught her reaction and said nothing. He folded his arms and let Iolaus do the talking.
"No. We cut him down in time. You know he's mortal?
"Yeah. We know."
Iolaus looked from one to the other and flapped his hand. "I sense a story here."
"He didn't tell you?" Gabrielle asked, her brow furrowed.
"Nope. He wasn't very forthcoming."
Xena pressed her lips together. "Ares… gave up his immortality to save Gabrielle and Eve. And… me, " she added softly.
Hercules whistled. " My brother did that? Are we talking the same Ares here?"
Gabrielle nodded. "He healed us, so Xena could-kill Athena."
"He told us she and the others were dead. Something about Eve…?"
"While she lives, they are vulnerable." Xena looked uncomfortable.
Iolaus looked up at his pal and leaned toward the women as if to share a confidence. "Er-Xena? You know Ares is in love with you?"
She inhaled deeply. "So he says."
The small blond warrior shrugged. "Sounded like he meant it."
She sighed. "I… yeah, I think he does."
"And how do you fee-ow!" Iolaus glared at his friend and shifted his toes out of harm's way.
Xena appeared not to notice the interruption. "I wonder why he left the farm? I planned to go back and visit him but…"
"He said he was going to Rome."
"Rome?" She stiffened. Caligula was in Rome. She and Gabrielle were headed that way at Michael's behest.
Hercules looked confused. "There's a problem in Rome? He said he had to go help someone…"
"That bastard. If he's gone to help Caligula-"
"Xena?" Gabrielle put her hand on her friend's arm. "He wouldn't, would he? After everything that's happened? Caligula is pure evil…"
"If he thinks he can get his godhood back-dammit, Gabrielle. If Ares is working with Caligula I'll kill him myself." She turned to the men, looking distracted. "It's been good to see you, old friends-"
"Awww," Iolaus pouted, and Hercules grinned, "Enough with the 'old', okay?"
She laughed. "We have to get to Rome on the fastest ship we can hire. We will find you later, when we have more time to talk. Take care of yourselves." She mounted quickly and gave Argo a dig in the ribs, moving her out.
"Bye, guys, " Gabrielle waved, swung herself up to her saddle and trotted after Xena.
Hercules watched the two horsewomen ride toward the docks of Piraeus. "You know, Iolaus? I think I'm actually feeling sorry for Ares."
"Think she's wrong about him, Herc?"
"For once-I hope she is."
End