Free Storming Paradise by Rik Hoskin Page B

islands. By the time they crossed through the waters abutting the second island, it was plain that the street party was being held there, just a little way from the shore.
    Iolaus worked the rudder, while Hercules used a set of oars to navigate the last passage and bring them into port. The fisherman knew the island, though not well. “Small place,” he said. “Two ports, one on either side. I brought grain over here in my younger days, but I think they’re mostly self-sufficient now.”
    Hercules listened to the music as the boat drew up to the docks, noticing how hypnotic it now seemed. He had not consciously noticed that before, but with hindsight he realized that he and Iolaus had never questioned joining the party in the shadow of the mountains, and had stayed far longer than they had intended. It only served to confirm his suspicion that sorcery was involved.
    â€œI’d like to thank you for your time, sir,” Hercules told the fisherman once he and Iolaus were off the boat, “and pay you for passage.”
    The captain shook his head and laughed, a throaty noise where he had strained his voice earlier. “I owe you my life, I think,” he said. “That’s payment enough for any journey, wouldn’t you say?”
    Hercules touched his brow in acknowledgement. “Safe waters to you, sir.”
    â€œAnd keep your eyes open for sea monsters,” Iolaus added.
    The captain assured him that he would, and with that Hercules and Iolaus made their way into the town, ears tuned for the sound of the street party. Above them, the sky was beginning to lighten with the pre-dawn. Time was running out.

Chapter 9
    The port ran along the bay of a small town, with less than two dozen dwellings running up a shallow incline away from the water. A statue of Poseidon overlooked the harbor, five feet tall but standing on a raised plinth, looking out to sea to provide protection for sailors.
    Hercules and Iolaus hurried through the darkened streets, searching for the party that they could hear echoing off the hard surfaces of every building.
    They found it after two minutes of searching, in a street that ran between the buildings on the higher levels, the sounds of music and laughter echoing down to the bay.
    As before, there was nothing particularly unusual about the street. It ran the breadth of the village, located between twin sets of wide spaced buildings, weaving a little to pass a jutting stable outside of which stood a two-wheeled cart. Colored bunting ran in streams from building to building, hanging ten feet above the ground. Tables ran along both sides of the street, a whole line of them geared to feeding the attendees, another shorter line playing host to barrels and wine skins, towering stacks of used goblets tottering on the ground beside it. People were everywhere, all ages and all sizes represented, doubtless the whole populace of this isolated island town. And again there were the songs, the cheerful, upbeat tunes, and people merrily dancing in drunken swagger. How the street knew where to go, or how it placed itself so seamlessly within a town or village, Hercules did not know. He only knew it was close to dawn, and that seemed to be the fracture point, when the street descended and its attendees were never seen again.
    As if he had read his mind, Iolaus hissed at Hercules as they strode onto the farthest reach of the party street. “It’s almost dawn, big guy,” he said in a whisper. “You might want to hurry this up if you have an actual plan.”
    The words struck Hercules like a blow. He and Iolaus had spent all this time searching for the street that abducted the unwary, but not once had they considered how they might actually stop such a phenomenon once they had found it.
Oh well, time to improvise!
    Striding over to one of the drinks tables, Hercules climbed up onto it and stood there, surveying the crowd of revelers. Then, cupping his hands to his