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  North by Northwest Revisited 
 by Martha Wilson  
 


 

 Iolaus pushed his fur hood back, squinting against the wind, getting his
bearings again. The moonlight played starkly over the unfamiliar shapes of
the mountains rising high on either side of the narrow trail, the thick
blanket of snow gleaming. Overhead the sky was dark and clear, the stars
like fragments of ice. The only thing to disturb the pristine sterile
beauty of it was the faint marks in the snow, the shallow remains of the
tracks he followed. 

 Iolaus plowed upwards determinedly, the high drifts making his progress
slow and uneven. His old wool shirt and tunic, usually more than enough
for the winter or a mountain trek back home, was woefully inadequate for
this country. The thick sheepskin-lined leather jerkin that was too big
for him, borrowed from the bottom of Jason's old clotheschest the day
before they had left, had been warm enough during the day. Nightfall had
brought new meaning to the word "freezing." "I was less cold when I was
dead," he muttered. 

 He stopped to look up again and saw, superimposed over the frigid
mountain landscape, an image of the Paths of the Dead. It was gone in an
instant but Iolaus swore, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. Though he
could remember the kind of things he had seen in that nowhere land between
life and death, and the lonely desolation, he couldn't seem to remember
what it had looked like. Kheper had told him to expect this, that a mortal
mind couldn't hold those images and that they would fade with time. But
some part of his memory must still be trying to hold on to them and the
starkness of this winter landscape, the eerie quality of the moonlight,
and the solitude had called it up from wherever it was hiding. 

 Didn't need that just now, he thought ruefully, but the jolt gave him the
energy to plow rapidly ahead toward the top of the rise. Hopefully he
wouldn't be out here alone for long. 

 They had picked a deserted building to camp at, a place Hercules knew
from his last trip here and had said had been a meadhall, though to Iolaus
it just looked like a big ruined barn with a fireplace. It was a relief
just being out of the town, where everybody apparently hated strangers on
sight, Greek strangers especially. Hercules had bitched about how awful
Norseland was all during the long voyage here, but Iolaus had thought he
was just in a bad mood about having to take the trip and exaggerating.	I
really thought he was making up that stuff about butting people. If
anything, the demigod had been understating the case. 

 West, west is definitely better, Iolaus told himself. Next time we leave
home, it's Egypt or Persia again. The thought of a hot sun and beautiful
women who bathed frequently helped chase away the lingering inner chill of
the vision of his last death. 

 Hercules had been determined to reach the old meadhall and insistent that
Iolaus wait for him there while he went up the mountain. Iolaus hadn't
argued, finding the frozen deserted place a more congenial atmosphere than
the Viking town, but he had been equally insistent that if the demigod
wasn't back by dark, he was going to look for him. His biggest fear was
that Hercules hadn't managed to leave Asgard. Mortals couldn't cross the
Rainbow Bridge, even if Iolaus could manage to find it. Worry about that
when it happens, Iolaus reminded himself firmly. He also hoped Hercules
wasn't stuck out here somewhere wounded. Iolaus had killed the biggest
wolf he had ever seen in his life when it had leapt at him from an icy
overhang, and the glowing eyes of trolls had watched him from the stands
of trees further down the mountain. 

 Iolaus reached the top of the rise and stopped, staring. The trail opened
up below into a flat plain, ringed by sheer walls of rock. On the white
expanse of disturbed snow was the remains of a town. Except.... Not stone,
not wood, Iolaus thought suddenly, eyes widening. Bones. That set of
arches that looked like the framework of a rotted ship was half a giant
ribcage. Those long timbers were leg bones, that big round lump the size
of a small house...had to be the skull. "Uh oh," he whispered aloud. He
took a dazed step forward, then another, then started to run. 

 The snow was crunchy underfoot, a layer newly-frozen over slush. Tumbled
piles had collected against the towering bones and the icy
indistinguishable lumps, but he didn't think this had been here long. Only
an hour maybe. It doesn't make sense, he thought, stumbling as the thin
layer of ice gave way underfoot. The sky had been clear all night. 

 At first he couldn't see anything. The moonlight played off the long
shapes of the ice bones, making it difficult to discern what was shadow
and what was solid. Iolaus searched the drifts, increasingly desperate,
not wanting to think about what he might find. 

 Maybe he took shelter somewhere, Iolaus thought, but he knew that was
wishful thinking. Hercules would know Iolaus would come looking for him
and he would've left trail signs to tell him where he was. Maybe somebody
found him. In this strange country, with unfriendly people and unfamiliar
gods and monsters and what all else, that might be worse. 

 He moved toward the skull, kicking the drifts aside. What he could see in
the moonlight was horrible: huge fangs, razor-edged teeth, gaping
eyesockets. He didn't want to think where the rest of the thing was, why
it had dissolved into bones so quickly. Unless...the creature's bones were
made of ice, maybe its flesh had been made of snow? Then his foot struck
something soft in a drift near the broken hinge of the creature's jaw.
Iolaus threw himself down, digging frantically, and as the snow flew away
he saw fur and dark-dyed leather. 

 "Herc!" No, no he's not dead. He moved fast, clearing away the snow and
gradually exposing the demigod's form where he lay sprawled face down.
Iolaus struck a hard layer of ice and realized with a sick sensation that
Hercules' right leg had frozen to the giant ice bone. He smashed at the
ice with his fists, but it was like rock. He drew his sword, bashing at it
with the hilt until the crystalline tendrils clutching at the demigod's
leg shattered. It couldn't be ordinary ice; the chunks were trying to
freeze to each other again and to Hercules, even as Iolaus clawed them
away. He pushed himself to his feet with a curse, shaking off the large
fragments that had already fastened on to his own hands and legs. He
grabbed Hercules by the arms and hauled frantically, dragging him into a
clear patch of snow. 

 Breathing hard more from fear than exertion, Iolaus dropped to his knees
and rolled the demigod over, carefully brushing the encrusted snow away
from his face. "Herc? Herc, can you hear me?" 

 Hercules twitched, his eyelids flickering, and Iolaus gasped in relief.
"Okay, okay, you're alive." He searched for a wound as best he could in
the dark, but couldn't find anything obvious. He must have gotten conked
on the head. Hercules didn't feel the cold like a full mortal; he wasn't
even wearing gloves or an extra shirt under his fur-trimmed leather coat.
But lying face down under a layer of snow near that ice creature might be
too much even for him. 

 Iolaus looked around, gathering his thoughts. There was no shelter
nearby, no wood for a fire. And it was just too freaking cold on top of
this mountain. There was no choice; he had to get Hercules back down below
the treeline and the nearest shelter there was the meadhall. "Herc, listen
to me." He patted the demigod's face again. "You've got to walk for me,
all right? I can't carry you the whole way." 

 Hercules dragged his eyes open with obvious difficulty, peering
unsteadily up at him. His hand lifted to brush Iolaus' face and Iolaus
caught it, chafing it anxiously. "Do you hear me, Herc? You've got to get
up now. Can you do that for me?" 

 Hercules blinked, and started feebly trying to move. "Great, great, hold
that thought." Iolaus scrambled to his feet, finding his sword and
sheathing it. Then he crouched beside Hercules, pulling the demigod's arm
up over his shoulder, hauling him to his feet. Hercules leaned heavily on
him, but stayed upright. "Just keep walking, all right buddy?" Iolaus said
firmly. "We're gonna be fine." 

 

 *** 

 

 Hercules gave out on the porch of the deserted meadhall and Iolaus
collapsed next to him, exhausted from the long trek down the mountain. "We
made it, Herc," he said hoarsely. "Just a little further now." Iolaus
staggered to his feet, shoving aside the broken doors he had propped over
the entrance before leaving. 

 Inside the dark high-ceilinged hall, the remains of the banked fire he
had started this afternoon glowed in the long freestanding central hearth.
Broken tables and benches were piled on the dais at the far end and snow
drifts had collected in the corners, but the thick stone walls protected
it from the wind and the roof was mostly intact. He had left their packs
near the hearth and it didn't look like anything had been disturbed. 

 Iolaus dragged Hercules inside, his back aching from the strain, then
stopped to fix the doors over the entrance again to block out the wind.
Banging the last one into place, he slid to the floor, panting, his
muscles shaking from the effort of the last few hundred feet. He shook his
head, shedding a small shower of ice crystals and snow. The old hall felt
as warm and cozy as the kitchen at the farm, but Iolaus knew that was an
illusion. He shoved himself to his feet again, muttering wearily, "Come
on, buddy." 

 Getting a grip around Hercules' chest, he dragged him over to the hearth.
Forcing his numb body to keep moving, Iolaus dumped his cloak, gloves and
sword, then turned back to Hercules. Wrestling him out of his
ice-encrusted coat was almost as difficult as it would have been if the
demigod had been actively resisting, but Iolaus managed it. Getting him
out of his frozen boots was easier. Once that was done, he dug the fur
blankets out of their packs and rolled Hercules into them. "Herc, Herc,
come on, come out of it," he said, trying to keep his voice calm despite
his growing desperation. He patted his face, chafed his hands, but
Hercules didn't so much as twitch. 

 "He's got to be okay, he's got to be okay," Iolaus muttered. Hercules
looked, and felt, dead, except for his labored breathing. Iolaus laid his
head against the demigod's chest to listen to his heartbeat. It was slow,
too slow. Almost trance slow. And his chest felt like a block of ice. His
own heart racing, Iolaus sat up and held the back of his hand to Hercules'
mouth and nose. There was no warmth in his breath at all. 

 Trying to ignore his growing terror, Iolaus turned back to the fire,
stirring it up and piling on more planks from the broken tables and
benches. Pulling the pallet as close to the hearth as he could, he
thought, He heard me up on the mountain, I know he heard me. And he walked
all that way. He didn't want to think that Hercules had used up the last
of his resources getting back down here. 

 Iolaus crouched by the fire, rubbing his eyes, needing a moment to calm
himself. He was fervently glad at least that they had planned to camp in
this hall, that he had had the chance to get the wood ready and have a dry
place to leave their packs. It was going to make all the difference. I
hope. He lifted his head and pushed the hair back from his face. "Okay,
okay, I know what to do." 

 Iolaus jumped to his feet and headed to the far corner of the hall, to
where there was a collection of junk abandoned by the last inhabitants.
Away from the hearth, the frigid air made him shiver harder. He kicked
aside the broken benches and other debris until he found a battered iron
pot. He filled it with snow from the new drift near the door then carried
it back to the fire, setting it near the flames to heat. Then he sat on
his heels to dig through Hercules' pack, his frozen fingers making him
clumsy. Finding the medicine pouch he sorted through it, brushing aside
the bags of herbs used for drawing poison out of wounds and reducing
fever. His nose was too stopped up for him to identify anything by scent,
but fortunately Hercules had everything meticulously sorted. Finally he
found a packet of the herbal tea Hercules always forced down Iolaus'
throat whenever anything happened and he added it to the water to steep. 

 Iolaus realized he was sweating, the moisture cold on his already chilled
skin, and he quickly shed his hooded jerkin, tossing it on the pile with
the discarded clothes. On second thought, he took the time to drape his
cloak and Hercules' coat over a couple of benches so the ice could melt
off. If they dried out enough, he could add them to the pile of bedding.
He tried to wake Hercules again, with no luck. Chafing his friend's cold
flesh, trying to get his blood moving again, he pleaded, "Come on, Herc,
you hate this place. You can't die here." He can't die here. Gods, what if
he dies here? "You don't want to be stuck forever in Valhalla or whatever
they call it. You'll go nuts." 

 The water in the pot finally started to steam, and Iolaus took a cupful
and propped Hercules up. He got most of it down him, and he tried to take
the fact that Hercules swallowed it without much difficulty as a promising
sign. But he had seen enough warriors with terrible head injuries to know
it might be only a reflex, like the breathing. And the warmth of the hot
water felt negligible next to the terrible chill of Hercules' skin. 

 Iolaus laid him down again and tucked the furs carefully around him, then
sat back, trying to think. The nearest reliable help was on the ship that
had brought them here, more than a day's journey down the mountains. And
he wasn't sure the Phrygian healer onboard would be able to do anything
more than he had already done. He couldn't leave Hercules alone, anyway.
There was too much chance the wolves or trolls or something worse would
find him. 

 "Hello." 

 Iolaus dove sideways to snatch up his sword, drawing it and springing to
his feet to put himself between Hercules and the figure looming behind
him. He had a sick feeling the sword wouldn't help; he had been sitting
with his back to a solid stone wall. The only way anyone could have gotten
behind him was by appearing out of thin air. 

 "It's all right," the intruder said, smiling. He was tall and blond like
most of the people here and dressed in fur and leather, but there was an
inner glow about him, a shining quality. He had to be a god. 

 "Who are you?" Iolaus asked cautiously. The guy didn't look hostile,
which was certainly a change. His face was friendly and open. But then
Gilgamesh had looked friendly too, right up until he had bashed Hercules
in the head and announced his allegiance to Dahak. 

 "I'm Baldur," the god said, as if that should explain everything. 

 Well, that's a straight answer at least. Iolaus tried to look as if he
had heard the name before, since there was no point insulting the guy. The
only god Hercules had mentioned meeting here was Thor, God of Assholes. He
lowered the sword's point and asked cautiously, "Why are you here?" 

 "I was looking for you." 

 "Oh?" Iolaus managed to sound like that statement hadn't just caused a
sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was acutely aware of
Hercules lying helpless behind him, of how vulnerable they were right now.
Especially to a god. "Why's that?" he asked casually. 

 Baldur smiled kindly, as if he wasn't fooled in the least. "I wanted to
meet you. I've heard a lot about you." 

 "Huh?" Iolaus blinked. He glanced back down at Hercules. He's got to have
us confused. Maybe all Greeks looked alike to him. "Are you sure-- I mean,
I'm Iolaus." 

 "I know." Baldur smiled again and said gently, "Hercules came here last
year because he mistook me for you." 

 "He...." Iolaus stared. The guy was Hercules' height at least and his
hair hung straight nearly to his waist. He wasn't going to call Baldur a
liar, but surely.... He said vaguely, "He was having a bad year." 

 "That he was," Baldur agreed. His face sobered and he said, "When he came
here from Eire, I could tell he had been on a long journey, and not a
pleasant one. He told me a little of what happened, that he had lost his
dearest companion in a battle with an evil god." He smiled again wryly.
"He seemed to be looking for something but he didn't know himself what it
was. I'm glad he found it." 

 "Oh." It sounded as if Baldur really had met Hercules last year when
Iolaus was dead. And I thought he didn't want to come back here because of
the Vikings. 

 Baldur hadn't said what he was the god of, but the room had grown
distinctly warmer since he had arrived and a diffuse golden light seemed
to be coming out of the cracks in the stones around him. Iolaus glanced
back at Hercules again, thinking rapidly. He couldn't take the chance that
the demigod would get better on his own, not when he had this opportunity
to ask for help. Hercules would go crazy when he woke up and found out
Iolaus had made a deal with a strange god, but at least he would be alive.


 Iolaus knew little about the Norse gods; the guy could ask for anything
in return, from a vow of service for the rest of Iolaus' life and beyond
to requiring him to lop off a body part or turn himself over to the
nearest temple to get carved up as a sacrifice, but he had to take the
risk. 

 Iolaus stepped back to prop his sword against the hearth, then faced
Baldur again. He swallowed in a dry throat and plunged in, "He's hurt. He
got in a fight with something huge, made out of ice." 

 Baldur nodded gravely. "A frost giant." 

 "Yeah." Iolaus didn't care what it was as long as it was dead. "And he
feels like he's dying and I can't--" He took a sharp breath, trying not to
sound so desperate. "If you could help him I'd do whatever--" 

 "This place is under my protection, and has healing virtues," Baldur
said, before Iolaus could make the offer. "He will be all right, if you
can keep him warm until morning." 

 Iolaus drew breath to answer and found himself looking away. He rubbed
his eyes, planted his hands on his hips and shook his head, trying to
swallow past the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he managed to say
finally. 

 "It's little enough, considering what I owe him," Baldur said, smiling
gently. "He saved my life." The radiance around him brightened for a
moment, then the god vanished. 

 Iolaus turned back to Hercules, kneeling beside him. Keep him warm, okay.
The hall was much warmer from Baldur's presence, that would help, and he
had the fire built up as high as he could. He took Hercules' hand. His
fingers were a little warmer but his chest still felt stone cold, and that
couldn't be good. 

 All right, let's try this. Iolaus climbed under the blankets and
awkwardly straddled his friend. Settling down on top of him, he shifted
around, trying to cover as much area as possible, wincing when Hercules'
belt buckle jabbed him in the thigh. He wasn't sure this was going to
help; the cold in the demigod's body was so intense Iolaus was already
chilled again himself. But it was the only thing to do. 

 After a time he thought Hercules' breathing might be getting easier, but
it was hard to tell. Stiff and chilled, Iolaus climbed off him to heat
more water and pour more of the tea down him. He chafed his arms and legs,
then climbed back under the furs, draping himself over Hercules' chest
again. He did this twice more as the hours of the long night stretched on,
his own exhaustion making his movements slower and more awkward each time,
but he was pretty sure Hercules' breath was warmer and his heartbeat felt
stronger. "I know you're going to be all right," he said, nestling his
head against the cold skin of Hercules' neck. "You're not going to let
this lousy stinking place beat you -- no offense," he added, in case
Baldur was still listening. 

 Iolaus was drifting, half-asleep, when Hercules suddenly rolled over on
top of him. Cursing, he shoved and bucked, then tried to wriggle free, but
the weight atop him didn't budge and his legs were trapped in the tangled
blankets. "Ow, Herc, dammit!" he wheezed, working an arm free to pound on
the demigod's shoulder as the need for air became urgent. "Get off!" 

 Hercules twitched. "Huh? Oh, sorry." He pushed himself up on one arm,
looking down at Iolaus with a dazed expression. "Iolaus...what's going
on?" 

 "We're keeping you warm. A frost giant fell on you. Do you remember?"
Iolaus sat up on his elbows. He felt himself grinning uncontrollably. It
was just starting to sink in that Hercules was conscious and coherent
again. 

 "A little. Something about...big ice fangs." The demigod slumped down on
the blankets next to him. He was pale under his tan and beginning to
shiver. "So it's dead?" 

 Iolaus sat up, almost giddy with relief. "What?" 

 "The ice fang thing?" 

 "Oh yeah, you got it. It was in pieces," Iolaus assured him. 

 "So you're dealing with everything and I can just lie here? Because I
feel awful." 

 Iolaus grinned, and smoothed the hair back from Hercules' forehead.
"Yeah, you can just lie there." He tucked the blankets around him again,
then got up to add more planks to the fire. He ended up pacing from relief
and excitement, then broke up another table for the wood just to give
himself something to do. 

 Finally Iolaus wound down enough to feel the cold and settled on the
pallet to pull off his boots, fumbling with laces encrusted with ice. He
burrowed under the blankets and still shivering, huddled on the outer edge
of the pallet so as not to disturb his partner. But an arm wrapped around
his waist and tugged him into the warmth, up against Hercules' chest.
Iolaus settled back against him, wriggled until he was comfortable, and
smiling to himself, drifted off to sleep. 

 *** 

 Iolaus woke when nature called, and pulled the fur off his head, blinking
at the gray daylight coming down through the smokehole in the roof. He sat
up, stiff muscles protesting as he disentangled himself from Hercules and
the blankets. Everything ached and there was a tight spot of pain right
between his shoulderblades. He shuddered at the freezing air outside the
warmth of their nest, and rubbed his face and ran his hands through his
hair, trying to wake himself up. Beside him, Hercules jerked awake
suddenly and demanded, "What's wrong?" 

 "Nothing, it's morning," Iolaus told him, yawning. 

 "Mmph." Hercules collapsed back into the furs, out again despite the
momentary display of alertness. Iolaus tucked the blankets back around
him, smiling. He got his half-frozen boots on then stood and stretched,
wincing at his new collection of sore and strained muscles. Staggering
outside to answer nature and check the heavy gray sky, he saw it looked
like it might snow, but then they wouldn't be leaving today anyway. 

 Back in the relative warmth, he propped the doors over the entrance again
and started building up the fire. Food. He dug through the supply bag,
pulling out a frozen chunk of some kind of unfamiliar fish. He banged it
thoughtfully on the stone hearth, wondering how best to render it eatable.


 Hercules drew back the fur enough to expose one eye. "You are going to
cook that, aren't you?" 

 Iolaus pretended to look puzzled. "Why?" He had developed a taste for raw
fish after having some at a tavern in Corinth owned by a Nipponese
merchant; Hercules was unable to appreciate the taste or even watch while
Iolaus did. After a moment of mute regard from the eye, Iolaus relented
and promised ingenuously, "I'll cook your half." 

 The eye retreated into the blankets again, muttering darkly about certain
people's culinary skills or lack thereof and bizarre habits. Iolaus tossed
a couple more boards on the fire, then stirred the coals with a stick,
looking for a good spot to bury the fish. He said casually, "Baldur
stopped by last night." 

 There was a fraught silence from the pile of furs, then, warily, "He
did?" 

 "Yeah." Iolaus glanced back to see the eye watching him again. "He said
'hi.'" 

 "Oh." 

 "Uh huh." Iolaus hummed tunelessly to himself, picking up the iron pot
and dubiously studying the frozen slush of ice and herbs in it. He
shrugged and put it back on the fire to heat. He added, "He wanted to meet
me, since we look so much alike." 

 The eye retreated again, this time without commentary. Whistling now,
Iolaus stuffed the fish into the coals, then put out a hunk of bread and
some dried apples to thaw. 

 "All right." Hercules pushed back the blanket and sat up on his elbow. "I
just wanted there to be one person who didn't think I spent most of last
year a raving lunatic," he said defensively. 

 "Fair enough." Iolaus nodded, turning to sit on the hearth, his back to
the warmth of the fire, resting his forearms on his knees. Hercules
watched him, still wary. After a moment, when Iolaus didn't make any other
comment, he started to sink back down into the furs. Iolaus shrugged. "Of
course, now I have this image of you wandering all over the north,
mistaking every blond guy you saw for me--" 

 "Oh, fine." Hercules flung the blanket back over his head and slumped
down on the pallet. 

 "--but I still don't think you're crazy." He waited a beat. "I know
you're crazy." 

 "Thanks, thanks very much," Hercules grumbled from under the blanket. 

 end  
   
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