Hercules: The Legendary Journeys Two Book Collection (Juvenile) Read Free Page A

We were on short rations while you ate the best, but we didn’t mind because it would bring us victory.”
    â€œBut you ran away!” Peuris shouted suddenly.
    â€œAre you crazy?” Salmoneus cried. “Hercules wouldn’t do that. Tell ’em, Herc.”
    â€œLet him finish,” Hercules said. Something was wrong here, but there was no point in arguing until he had all the facts.
    â€œThose Pastor ‘prisoners’ were really spies,” the captain went on. “They sent you a message that the Pastors would offer you better luxuries if you fought for them. Three days after you had arrived, you were gone.”
    â€œSo General Ferocius ordered you to kill me,” Hercules concluded thoughtfully. “From your viewpoint, it makes sense.”
    Salmoneus gasped. “Are you agreeing with the yokels?” he complained. A sword poked his ribs. “Ouch. No offence . . .”
    It does make sense, Hercules was thinking. But how can there be another me running around? I can’t have a twin, or I’d have heard. Probably.
    â€œThere,” Honorius announced.
    Up ahead stood a long, rough wall of logs. A section angled open and a cadet dashed out, stopped and saluted before Honorius. It was one of the advance scouts Peuris had sent on ahead.
    A tall, burly man marched out through the city door, attended by an honour guard of a dozen adult soldiers. Like Honorius, he wore a breastplate and plumed helmet, but of silver. The feathers on his helmet were shiny and black, like a raven’s wing.
    The man’s dark gaze locked on to Hercules. He then strode past Honorius and looked Hercules up and down.
    â€œI’m Ferocius,” he growled. “I run this city.”
    â€œI’m Hercules,” the hero answered, extending a friendly hand which went unshaken. “I thought this city had a mayor, not a general.”
    Ferocius snorted. “When you threw your lot in with our enemy, I declared a state of emergency and placed us under martial law. As the highest-ranking military man here, that means I make the law. And according to my law, you should be dead.”
    Salmoneus piped up. “Look, whoever you had here earlier, it wasn’t him. There are a lot of people who claim that they’re Hercules. But I know this big hunk. He really is Hercules and I’ll prove it. Show ’em, Herc. Do a miraculous feat of strength.”
    â€œFine,” Hercules grumbled.
    Through the open gateway, a large object caught his attention—a massive boulder in the town square, as wide as an elephant. It seemed an odd thing to have stuck there, when it meant that everyone had to go around it, but perhaps it had proved too heavy to shift.
    He crossed to it, squatted and gripped the boulder, his fingers grasping the surface. The rock felt too soft and strangely lightweight, but with everyone watching Hercules couldn’t back off now. He sprang forward, swinging the boulder towards the star-filled sky and let it go. The rock shot upwards as if it were no more than a child’s toy.
    It shouldn’t have gone that high, he thought. I didn’t throw it that hard.
    There was a strange silence for a while, then nervous Mercantilians scattered in all directions. Hercules shifted left, placing himself directly beneath the plummeting rock. The dark shape grew larger and larger, like a bird of prey swooping down on a mouse. He stretched out his arms, ready to catch it. Easy, he thought, bend with the—
    The rock hit him and shattered, exploding into slivers and chunks of dry wood.
    Hercules coughed a cloud of dust out of his throat and brushed himself down. “Now do you believe I’m Hercules?” he asked Ferocius.
    â€œNo,” the general snapped. “Anyone could have thrown that boulder. It was a fake, made of wood and rags, completely hollow. What’s more, you’ve just destroyed our secret weapon. Honorius, tell our visitor what