SOLSTICE MOON
by Linda Tellez (aka Saahira)
linda_c._tellez@hud.gov
It was a supremely beautiful summer day --- or rather, it would have been had one deemed heatstroke and the stifling thickness of humidity enjoyable. The sun was glaring down with blinding intensity, while equally blinding heat-spires radiated up from the hard-packed road. Among the seared branches of treetops, birds sang with as much enthusiasm as their poor little hearts could muster. Even the air itself seemed sad and listless, oppressively heavy, with nary the slightest hint of cooling breeze to redeem it. But unlike the nastily capricious moods of the goddess, Demeter, some things could always be counted upon. Unlike the drought that clutched the Grecian landscape in its deadly grasp, some things would simply never change. And thus it was that --- as always --- come rain or shine, come heat or cold, through good fortune or ill, Gabrielle was talking.
"But he didn't really expect you to fall for it, did he?" the bard asked incredulously, halting in mid stride. When Xena merely shrugged a noncommittal response and kept walking, the younger woman bounded to catch up. She continued relentlessly, "I mean, that's crazy, isn't it? How could you not realize Salmoneous was a man?" She chuckled, "He's not exactly what I'd call the effeminate type."
Xena sighed patiently, "I didn't say I didn't know he was a man. I said he was wearing a dress and trying to pass himself off as a woman so I wouldn't kill him. There's a big difference."
"But you saw through his disguise right away?" Gabrielle insisted.
Xena smirked, "Have you ever seen a woman with a beard?"
Gabrielle frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, I think I did, once. But it was ... oh, years ago. See, there were these traveling minstrels from India, I think my father called them jippies or jippers or something like that, and ... oh, but that's not important," she finished hastily. It was so rare a thing for Xena to offer a story that Gabrielle wasn't about to chance breaking the warrior's loquacious mood --- or rather, what passed as a loquacious mood for Xena --- with stories of her own. "Go on, Xena. What happened then?"
"Oh, not too much. It worked."
"What worked?"
"I let him live."
"That's it?" Gabrielle exclaimed loudly, tossing her hands skyward. "Just 'I let him live'?"
"Yep."
"But what about Darphus? What about the baby?"
Xena shrugged indifferently, "Found the baby a new home, fed Darphus to Cerberus. You know, the usual."
"The ... usual?" Gabrielle repeated. Lips pinching in frustration, she scolded, "You know, it's a good thing I'm the bard and you're the warrior. Otherwise we'd starve."
"Otherwise we'd get killed," Xena corrected with a flippant grin.
"Oh, ha-ha. OK then," Gabrielle offered, affably redirecting her quest for entertainment, "how about a riddle contest then? Two out of three, loser cooks supper?"
"I don't do contests," came the warrior's tacit response.
The bard smiled sweetly, "Well, you can't tell stories either, but that certainly didn't stop you from trying today, now did it?" Xena shot her companion a scathing glare, but gallantly refrained from taking the proffered bait. Gabrielle was forced to try yet another approach. "Well, then ... how about I tell you a story?"
"You always tell me stories."
Gabrielle sighed dramatically, "Well, Xena, it's either me or Argo, and personally I think her delivery is just a little flat." When one corner of Xena's mouth twitched spasmodically in a quirky smile, Gabrielle grinned ecstatically and exclaimed, "Aha! Gotcha!" She clapped her hands together happily and skipped on ahead of her companion, disappearing over the crest of the hill.
As the little bard vanished from sight, Xena wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned in close to the horse's ear, whispering, "Remind me not to feed her any more of those little green berries for lunch." Argo tossed her mane as if in agreement.
Scant seconds later the girl reappeared, her face radiant, and shouted, "Xena!" The warrior rolled her eyes heavenward and continued trudging slowly forward. Gabrielle raced down the hill to rejoin her, her green eyes shining with excitement. "Guess what?" she exclaimed.
The warrior drew a long breath of the hot, muggy air.
"Oh, I don't know. Zeus appeared to you as a caterpillar and offered to cocoon you?"
"Oh, no, much better than that!" Gabrielle replied, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm. "There's a village up ahead."
"And your point being ...?"
"They're having a three day solstice festival," the bard answered with a hugely triumphant grin.
"Really?" Xena returned, her deadpan tone suggesting strongly that she was anything but interested in attending any local festivities, summer solstice or otherwise.
"Yes," Gabrielle continued cheerily. "There's a sign by the road up ahead. You can see the village from the crest of the hill, so it's not even out of our way. Much."
"Lovely."
"So can we go?"
"Why?"
"Why?" Gabrielle cried, shaking her blonde head in amazement. "Well, to have fun, of course! To sing and dance and make merry!" She spun in a small circle, shuffling her feet in a little jig, using her staff as a dance partner. Dust billowed, settling yet another layer of parched soil across her boots.
Xena sighed, "Last time we went to a festival, you got yourself turned into a nasty, blood-sucking little ..."
"Yes, but ... well, you know that was different, Xena. Well, it was!" she added sharply, noticing Xena's quizzically arching eyebrow. "Besides," she countered, trying yet another tact, "Think how wonderful it would be to eat food we didn't have to sit next to a sweltering campfire cooking." She leaned her weight against the staff and closed her eyes, a beatific smile lighting her features. "Think about soaking for hours in a nice, cool bath. Think about washing the sweat from our bodies, and cleaning our hair so it doesn't stick like gum to our scalps. Think about our clothes being clean and fresh again, and me smelling of fine perfumes, and you ..." Her eyes popped wide as words suddenly failed her.
"And me?" Xena prompted curiously.
"And you ... well, um ... you ... wouldn't ... smell like Argo anymore." Gabrielle shrugged and offered a weak little smile of apology.
Xena's eyes narrowed.
Gabrielle stuttered, "I mean, not that you and Argo don't smell good. It's just a ... a little 'horsy' for most people, if you know what I mean. Not that there's anything wrong with smelling like a horse, of course. I ... suppose it's an ... acquired taste?" she finished on a high note.
Xena's mouth tightened irritably, but seeing Gabrielle squirm like a naughty child about to be scolded proved more than even someone as infamously dour as the Warrior Princess could bear. Relenting, she shook her head and sighed, "OK, we'll go. But only for a couple of nights."
Gabrielle's face brightened immediately. "Right," she beamed happily, "Only for a couple of nights. Just long enough to get us and Argo cleaned up, and get something good to eat and ..."
"... and attend the festival," Xena finished for her.
The bard's smile was warm as she reached out and took the warrior's callused hand in hers. "Thank you, Xena," she said.
"Yeah, well ... just promise you'll watch out for bacchai this time, OK?" Xena replied, still uncomfortable with the sudden, casual familiarity. "Saving your skin is not how I want to spend my summer solstice."
"Oh, don't you worry about that!" Gabrielle jumped into a fighting stance, staff held at the ready. "Just let them try to take me this time! First I'll knock them in their heads," she said, demonstrating vigorously, and in the process stirring up still more clouds of the dusty soil, "and then I'll bop them on their blood-sucking little ..."
And as they continued down the road, with Gabrielle bouncing and play fighting at her side, Xena again found herself cursing the stimulating effect of those damned little green berries the bard had eaten for lunch ...
* I have found in my travels with Xena that a little self-indulgence can be a wonderful thing, and this day is certainly no exception. Mere words cannot express how incredible it is to climb into a tub of cool clear water, then climb out again two hours later feeling all-but reborn. Even as I sit here by the window, writing this entry, Xena is still soaking in the tub, her eyes closed, for the first time in a long time seeming content. I think she needed this respite from the drought far more than I did although, being the Warrior Princess, she would never have admitted it ... not to me, not to anyone. Perhaps not even to herself ...*
Gabrielle paused in her writing to glance out the window. Dusk was falling, and the streets were rapidly filling with villagers. A quick thrill of exhilaration tingled through her system.
"Look, Xena," Gabrielle said happily, "everyone's going into the streets now. It must be time to light the solstice bonfire."
"You go on ahead," Xena said as she lounged in the tub. She didn't even bother opening her eyes. "I'll join you in a little while."
"You're sure?" Gabrielle asked uncertainly.
"Go on, get out there," the warrior gently chided. "Just try not to get in any trouble, hmmm?"
The bard chuckled, "Me? Trouble? Don't even know what that word means."
"Uh-huh."
"But you," the girl teased, "had better be careful. You wouldn't be the first fair maid to lose her virtue during a solstice celebration."
"Well, I'm afraid you're just a few years too late with the advice, but I appreciate it just the same."
"But you will join me tonight?" Gabrielle asked on a suddenly serious note. "I don't think I could enjoy myself knowing you were up here sulking in our room."
"Sulking?" Xena opened one eye in the bard's direction.
"You know what I mean. Promise you'll join me, Xena?" A heavy sigh, a largely reluctant nod ... but it was all the girl needed. Satisfied, Gabrielle pushed back from the small writing table, squared her shoulders and declared, "Well, I've got a festival to celebrate. And I'll be looking for you," she added emphatically, pointing a stern finger Xena's way.
In response, Xena simply closed the eye again and waved in the general direction of the doorway.
When she could delay it no longer, Xena rose dripping from the tub; she dried herself slowly, then dressed in her usual leathers. She didn't particularly care for festivals, but she had given her word. Even if it was under duress.
She sighed, bravely accepting her fate.
By the time she left their room in the tavern, night had fallen. It embraced her as an old friend, though it was another friend she sought. As she moved through the boisterous humanity, she had but one thought, and that to find Gabrielle. The bonfire blazed high into the dark solstice eve sky, casting both village and countryside into weird leaping shapes and twisting shadows. Many of the revelers careened around the bonfire, some drunk and all-but stumbling into it, others filled with an almost mystical grace. Others had retreated to the dimmest of night's shadows, coupling joyously in the moonlight.
But of Gabrielle, there was no sign.
Xena continued through the wild dancers, her eyes searching the dark, when a drunken celebrant careened into her path, halting her. In a voice slurred by too much wine, staggering to maintain a semblance of balance, he mumbled, "Hey, sweet thing, how's 'bout lettin' me see what's under that ..."
The fool never knew what hit him.
It seemed an eternity before she finally spotted the one she sought, a well-known form with hair gleaming pale in the bonfire's brilliant glow. But the girl wasn't alone.
Despite herself, Xena stepped back a pace.
Though many years had passed, the one with Gabrielle was just as familiar to Xena now as she remembered from so long ago --- he was just as imposing as he had been in her youth, just as dangerous and powerful as she recalled. His hair was longer now, hanging loose past his shoulders, its tawny color having been bleached away from a lifetime spent in the bright sunlight; while in contrast, his skin had grown darker and more weathered, with a suggestion of crowsfeet circling his eyes and lining his mouth. Yet there could be no mistaking this man for any other; there wasn't a single chance in Tartarus that she was wrong.
Tarsus.
He towered over the little bard, his arm slung loosely around her shoulders; she was gazing up into his face, her eyes bright, her face and hands animated as she entertained him with some fantastic tale.
Xena stood still a moment longer --- watching them, willing her heart to quiet its fearful pounding. She smoothed the worry from her face, letting her features slip into the familiar, haughty glare that had quelled the courage of so many others. Only then did she approach.
Gabrielle glanced her way, her eyes shining happily.
"Xena!" she exclaimed delightedly, "I'm so glad you finally got out here. I want you to meet my new friend."
"Hello, Tarsus," Xena said, her voice little more than a dangerously soft purr.
"Xena," the man returned, straightening to his full height, at the same time dropping his hand down to clasp Gabrielle's. "It's been a long time."
"Not nearly long enough," Xena returned coolly.
"Wait," Gabrielle demanded. She had been glancing from one to the other of them, her confusion obvious in her expression. She added tartly, "Now let me guess --- you two already know each other, right?"
"You could say that," Xena returned, without taking her eyes from those of the man. Then, her lips curling into an ugly sneer, she added firmly, "Come on, Gabrielle, the party's over. We're leaving."
Gabrielle huffed and started toward Xena --- as always, resentful that she was the last one to know what was going on, though the idea of questioning the warrior never occurred to her. She nearly fell when she was jerked roughly backwards by the hand holding hers. When she cried out in pain, Tarsus' grin broadened.
"Looks like I have something that belongs to you, Princess," he said matter-of-factly. "Looks like you'll have to work to get it back."
Xena's heart was racing, but it didn't show in her face. She knew it didn't show.
"Let her go, Tarsus. She doesn't have anything to do with us."
"Oh, but you're wrong, Xena. You want her back, don't you? You'll do whatever you have to, to keep her alive, won't you?"
"To keep me ... alive?" Gabrielle whispered, and swallowed hard.
"Tarsus, don't ..."
"There's a dead olive tree on the road about a half league southeast of here. Meet me there before midnight. If you want to see your little friend alive again, you'll meet me there."
Xena lunged forward, but stopped abruptly when a blade flashed against Gabrielle's throat.
Tarsus grinned smugly, "You know better than that, Princess. I've always been faster than you. And stronger. You never could take me." His grin broadened nastily. "Certainly not the way I took you. You remember, don't you?"
"That was a long time ago," Xena murmured hollowly.
"Not so long," Tarsus said. One finger lifted from the knife to trail along Gabrielle's cheek; the bard shuddered at his touch. "I still remember every wonderful moment of our ... time together."
Jaw clenching, Xena threatened, "By the gods, Tarsus, if you hurt her ..."
"But that's entirely up to you, Princess," he interrupted reasonably. "It's you I've come for tonight, not her. Your little friend is just the bait. You see, I promised someone that I'd take you on the solstice eve, and you know I'm a man of my word."
Her tone mocking, Xena drawled, "Funny. I can't recall you ever keeping your word about anything."
The smile vanished. Tarsus growled, "If you care about her, be at the dead olive tree before midnight." With that, he tightened his grip on the girl and pulled her with him into the shadows.
And Tarsus was gone ... Gabrielle gone.
But the nightmare just beginning ...
Argo pounded down the narrow road, her nostrils flaring, her golden hide dark and slicked with sweat. The heat, even in the dark of night, was all but unbearable, yet still Xena mercilessly urged the mare to greater speed. By then, the solstice eve moon rode high in a sky flickering with sheets of heat lightening. Midnight was not far distant.
Suddenly, in a blinding explosion of light, she spotted her destination --- the olive tree --- a dead, decaying skeleton bowing ominously across the road, its gnarled limbs outstretched as though reaching to snag unwary travelers. Argo startled slightly, then again stretched herself forward.
Xena eased slowly back in the saddle, pulling gently on the reins; sensing her rider's distress, Argo snorted in protest before finally settling reluctantly into a slow, steady jog. The mare was blowing heavily, her sides heaving with exertion. Xena slowed her still more, then pulled her to a complete stop beside the dead tree. Squinting, she searched the dim forest. She spotted it within seconds, a distant flicker through the trees, the vaguest hint of firelight.
Cautiously, the warrior dismounted. One hand slipped back, slapping Argo lightly on the rump. The mare plodded wearily away, disappearing into the shadows. That way, Xena thought, even at the very worst, at least one of them would survive this night.
For once, she actually found herself wishing Joxer were with her. Even if only for his company ...
Shoving down a fear she refused to admit owning, Xena stepped into the dark recesses of the underbrush, moving carefully toward that telltale glow ahead. Slowly, very quietly, she drew her sword.
She found Gabrielle bound tightly to a huge old tree, her hands stretched painfully back and tied around it's width, her feet bound awkwardly at its base. She was gagged, unable to speak or cry out. But her eyes were wide with a desperate fear ... a fear not for herself, but for Xena.
The bard moaned incoherently, her eyes beseeching. She shook her head, warning Xena away.
As if Xena could possibly leave her there.
The warrior paused where she was, at the edge of the clearing, sword poised before her, searching the pale moonlight for any sign of Tarsus. But there was nothing there. Nothing at all.
Slowly --- knowing beyond any doubt it was a trap, that it could be nothing but a trap --- she moved forward. She had no choice.
Unfortunately, Tarsus knew her well enough to plan for exactly that ...
She reached Gabrielle. Sword poised in her right hand, she stretched out her left to tug the gag away from the girl's mouth.
Gabrielle gasped for air and hissed, "Run, Xena! It's a trap!"
"I know," Xena muttered, moving to cut the ropes binding her friend to the tree.
"Xena, please," Gabrielle insisted. "I'm not the one in danger."
"Be still," Xena ordered sternly, using her sword to slash through the ropes. Then, in a voice so hushed as to be barely audible, she whispered by the bard's ear, "Argo is in the woods nearby. Run. Get back to the road, then whistle for her. She'll take you away from here."
"I'm not leaving you, Xena."
Xena looked into her friend's determined green eyes. In the cruelest voice she could muster, she snarled, "You don't have a choice, Gabrielle. If you stay here, you'll end up getting us both killed. Now go on!" When Gabrielle made the mistake of standing still just a split-second longer as she rubbed at her bruised wrists, weighing her options, Xena shouted furiously, "GO!" and shoved the girl roughly in the direction of the road. The bard stumbled from the unexpected assault, tripped over a root and crashed gracelessly to the ground. Later, reflecting back on the incident, she realized her clumsy fall was probably the only thing that saved her.
"Xena!" the bard cried out, but not in anger or surprise ... in urgent warning ...
The first arrow streaked across the clearing, imbedding itself in her right shoulder. A heartbeat later, the second buried itself deep in the flesh of her left ribcage.
With a strangled cry, Xena fell back against the tree, her sword slipping from fingers gone nerveless and numb. Her face a mask of pain, she slid in slow, nightmare motion to the ground. A bright stain of crimson was left trailing along the rough bark above her.
"XENA!" Gabrielle screamed, scrambling frantically to the warrior's side. "Oh, Xena," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. She pulled the other woman carefully into her arms; her hands seemed helpless with panic, fumbling, not know what to do first. Her voice shaking, she whispered, "What should I do, Xena? Tell me how to help you?"
Xena looked up at her through eyes already glazing over. Only one word managed to escape before the darkness claimed her.
"Run ..." she breathed.
There was nothing more.
"Gabrielle-Gabrielle ... OK, come on, get a grip on yourself," the bard whispered. "You know you've seen worse wounds than this. You've helped people hurt worse than this. But ... oh, by the gods ... Xena ..."
But no response came from her friend's pallid lips, no words came to bring the bard comfort. Xena lay limply in Gabrielle's arms, the arrows jutting from her slack body. Her leathers were already darkened and stained by the blood, the stains spreading further with every beat of the warrior's heart. Seeming all but lifeless, Xena scarcely even breathed.
"Is she dead?" Tarsus strolled up behind them, his bow held loosely in one hand, a quiver of unused arrows in the other. His tone was casual, almost disinterested.
"No!" Gabrielle snapped furiously past her shoulder. "But she's ... she's badly hurt."
Tarsus said, "Don't worry, girl, I don't want her dead. The bounty is higher if she's alive." He explained matter-of-factly, "My employer wants the pleasure of killing her himself, and he's more than willing to pay for the privilege. And pay quite well, too, I might add."
Gabrielle closed her eyes briefly, sickened by the man's callous words. She drew a long steadying breath. Courage, she told herself. For Xena's sake ...
She said firmly, "I'll need some rags, boiled clean in water. And some golden seal and myrrh. Also some wild geranium ..."
"I know what you'll need," Tarsus answered testily. He started to turn away; instead turned back again, adding derisively, "You can keep her alive till I get back, can't you?"
Gabrielle sighed, "Please. Just bring me the things I need. Quickly."
She didn't see the interest spark in Tarsus' eyes, nor the grin that spread his grizzled features as he moved away. But it was just as well.
She had enough to worry about without that, too ...
A filtered, pre-dawn light had already painted the forest with creeping shadows before Gabrielle felt confident enough to heave a soul-weary sigh, sit back, and begin cleaning the blood from her hands and arms. Her clothes were spattered with crimson, too, but there seemed little she could do about that; there was no way she would seek out stream or pond to wash herself, not if it meant leaving Xena alone with the beast calling itself Tarsus.
"Well, girl?" the man queried mildly. He sat on a nearby log, the same log he had occupied all through the solstice eve night, offering the distraught bard neither help nor support --- unless one deemed sporadic ridicule to be of aid.
Gabrielle stubbornly refrained from responding to the taunts. With slow, deliberate movements, she continued to clean herself.
"She always has been a tough one," the man commented thoughtfully, with a nod of his chin toward the prone warrior. "I admit, though, I'm surprised she attached herself to someone so ... well, someone like you."
Still, Gabrielle maintained her silence.
Tarsus continued, "Marcos I could almost understand. They were a lot alike ... well, before she went soft, I mean. Personally, though, I always pictured her as Draco's woman. If any two were ever fired from the same forge ..."
"Xena is nothing like Draco," Gabrielle snapped, finally unable to tolerate the man's badgering another instant. "Draco is ... Draco's a warlord, a vicious cold-blooded murderer. He doesn't care about anything but power and profit. And pleasing himself at the expense of everyone else."
Tarsus chuckled gently, a chill sound in those lonely pre-dawn hours. "Girl," he laughed softly, the early morning sun turning his gray hair to shimmering silver, "just what in Tartarus do you think Xena is?"
Gabrielle drew breath for a sharp retort; but paused instead, releasing the breath as a sigh. She wiped a tired hand across her forehead, pushing disheveled blonde hair back from her face. "You just don't understand," she answered wearily. "Xena's changed. Really changed. She's not that person anymore."
"Is that what she told you?"
Some of the sharpness returned as the bard said acidly, "It's what I know."
"Then you're more naive than I thought." Rising stiffly from the log, Tarsus began a slow pacing back and forth across the small clearing, his brow furrowed. In a voice filled with contempt, he said, "Tell me something, girl. Did you know Xena before this miraculous transformation of hers? Were you there at Cirra, listening to the screams of the dying as her men torched the village? Have you ever seen how adept your friend is at torturing prisoners to extract information? Tell me, girl ... have you ever seen her murder?"
"I don't want to hear this," Gabrielle said coldly.
"I imagine not. It might detract from your ... 'sterling image' of the great Warrior Princess, righting wrongs and fighting injustice. I suppose you wouldn't want to hear about the men she sacrificed then, either?"
"What do you mean ... sacrificed?" Though her tone was sarcastic, Gabrielle felt an unwelcome chill creep up her spine.
"You don't know, do you?" Tarsus chuckled, shook his head. "Your precious friend there would select one of her more expendable soldiers, seduce him and make love to him, then send the love struck fool on some suicide mission."
"Xena would never ..."
"Just ask her sometime. Ask her to tell you about Theodorus."
Gabrielle interposed, "Theodorus was Callisto's lieutenant. Callisto was the one that ..."
"Not that Theodorus, you little fool." He paused, lowering his voice. "Ask her to tell you about Iolaus."
"Iolaus? Not ... not Hercules' friend?"
"Aye. Just ask her." He shrugged. "Sometime. If you get the chance, I mean." A long silence ensued, with Tarsus watching Gabrielle, while Gabrielle watched the slow rise and fall of Xena's chest. Moments later, years later, eons later, Tarsus said, "That's why I did it, you know."
"Did what?" Gabrielle asked. She felt drained, exhausted. She didn't want to hear any more.
"Raped her," he replied nonchalantly, "just so she'd know how it felt to be used that way. Ask her about that, too, sometime. I'd wager that's another story she's never told you. Afraid to, I guess."
Gabrielle's eyes closed. She turned her face away.
"Course it was a long time ago. Just after the first young fool lost his life to her. You know, that boy died with her name on his lips. He was a good lad, too." Tarsus circled his gaze to the forest surrounding them. "It's not getting any earlier," he commented practically. "I'll go catch us something for breakfast."
Gabrielle swallowed hard and managed, "I'm not very hungry."
"Maybe not. But you won't be wanting your friend to go without, now will you? She'll need it to help her heal."
"So you can take her to be killed?" the bard snapped angrily.
Tarsus shrugged. "That's what I'm being paid for. See, my employer's eldest son was one of those soldiers. One of the men Xena sent to his death."
"But ..."
"It's blood for blood, girl ... life's oldest code. Nothing you can do to change it." Again he cast his gaze toward the rapidly brightening forest. "I'll be back," he muttered.
And left Gabrielle cruelly alone with her thoughts.
*I sit here by her side, scribbling on this pathetic little scrap of parchment I found in my bag. Tarsus will be back soon, but with Xena so cruelly injured, our chances of escaping the hunter are poor at best. And he knows that.
*If only she would wake up.
*Her wounds are deep, but not life-threatening. Tarsus knew what he was doing, and his aim was true. What worries me most is the loss of blood. It will be several days before she regains her strength; several days before we can even consider escape. Will those lost days spell my friend's death? Will it be too late to save Xena from execution? Only the gods above can answer that, for Tarsus won't.
*If only Xena would wake ...*
Awareness returned uneasily, like pale moonlight creeping through a cloudy, storm-tossed sky. The vaguest impressions, the slightest sensations; a fleeting shadow of pain, there and gone almost before it registered. A feather's touch against her forehead, cooling her flesh, brushing hair back from her face. Moisture was pressed gently to her lips, forcing them open; she choked slightly on a trickle of water made bitter with herbs. Across some great expanse, she heard Gabrielle calling her name.
"Xena? Xena, it's time to wake up now. Can you hear me?"
She swallowed hard, tried to move. The pain became something more than a shadow. Then Gabrielle's voice again, closer now, more intense.
"Did you see that? I think she's coming to."
"Good," came the response, "then we can be on our way soon." That voice ...
Consciousness returned with a shock.
Tarsus ...
Xena jolted upright --- or rather, she tried to. Quick agony lanced through her shoulder and side, making her gasp and fall back against the blankets.
"Xena, don't ..."
Her eyes opened to slits. At first, all around her was blurred, distorted by the pain. Only slowly did the wraith leaning over her become recognizable as her friend, Gabrielle. She tried to speak, but her throat was so parched, so dry ...
"Here," Gabrielle murmured. Again the moisture was pressed to her lips, a cup brimming with the herb-laced water. The liquid was terribly bitter, causing the warrior to scowl in distaste. But bitter or not, she drank it all, gulping it down in greedy haste; she then let herself relax against the blankets as her stomach adjusted to the sudden flood. For an instant, she fought against it coming back up.
She opened her eyes again --- when had they closed? --- and found Gabrielle watching her in worried silence. She wet her lips, swallowed hard. She murmured sardonically, "I thought I told you to leave?"
"You did," Gabrielle replied gently. The girl smiled sadly, her eyes bright with concern. She reached out, pressing a cool cloth against Xena's brow, adding, "Since when have I ever done what I was told?"
"Stubborn ..." Xena managed before her voice faded.
"You know you wouldn't have me any other way."
"You want to bet?" Xena tried to smile, failed as pain pinched her lips into a grimace. She looked up and whispered, "How bad?"
Gabrielle glanced briefly past her shoulder to insure their privacy, then whispered, "Bad enough. Right shoulder, left ribcage. You've lost a lot of blood."
"And my sword?"
"It's with Tarsus' things."
"I have to ..." Xena began. With effort, she pushed herself up ... only to fall back again.
"What you need is to rest," the bard told her firmly; whereupon the warrior graced her friend with an ironic stare so explicit, it needed no verbal translation. "Right, OK," Gabrielle continued uneasily. "But at least give yourself a little time to mend ..."
A shadow fell across them then, and Gabrielle could have sworn Xena's face grew a shade paler than it was already.
"A few days to mend?" Tarsus queried mildly. "Since when did the great Warrior Princess need time to mend her wounds? I always thought you were invincible, Xena?"
"Now wait a minute ..." Gabrielle began hotly, but Xena's hand on her arm stopped her.
"Leave us alone for awhile, Gabrielle."
"But Xena ..."
The hand dropped weakly away; blue eyes shifted from hunter to bard, eyes that were filled with pain and ... and something Gabrielle didn't even want to consider.
Gabrielle scowled and whispered, "Alright. But I won't be far away." With obvious reluctance, she rose from her friend's side; then, sparing a long, malevolent glare for the hunter, she moved to the far side of the clearing, to the place where Tarsus' bay gelding was tethered. She stroked the horse's muzzle while at the same time struggling to hear a conversation spoken too softly to carry that far.
Xena's eyes shifted back to those of her captor.
Tarsus said, "It's been a long time, Princess."
"Obviously not long enough to suit me," Xena replied. She carefully shifted her position, hating her weakness. She briefly considered forcing herself to sit up, but immediately discarded the notion. She refused to give Tarsus the satisfaction of seeing her try, and fail. Instead she asked, "I suppose you have some reason for all this?"
Tarsus shrugged, then lowered himself carefully to the ground by her side.
"Nothing personal, Princess. Just a question of ... practicality. Justice, you might say."
"In other words, someone offered you a whole lot of dinars."
The man laughed, "You know me too well, Xena."
"Well enough. Mind giving me a name?"
"Why not? You'll know soon enough. Do you remember Salaius?" Xena frowned slightly, searching her memory. Tarsus prompted, "You remember, a slender lad with red hair? He used to play the pan flute outside your tent every night."
Vaguely, she recalled a soldier calling himself Salaius.
"That was a long time ago," she said softly.
"Time doesn't heal all wounds, Princess. His father's put a healthy price on your head. He says you seduced the boy and sent him to his death. You do carry a reputation for that, you know."
The frown deepening, Xena replied, "Salaius died bravely in battle. We gave him a warrior's funeral. You remember."
"Aye, that we did. But his father's convinced otherwise."
"But you know better."
Tarsus shrugged, saying, "What does it matter really, whether you're punished for his death or some other poor fool's. Either way, you're guilty of the same crime a dozen times over."
Xena's eyes narrowed. "When you left my army," she said coldly, "you became a hire-sword. I didn't realize you'd graduated to assassin."
Taken somewhat aback by the shift, Tarsus frowned, "Assassin?"
"That's right," Xena replied, her voice growing stronger with rage. "You've been a lot of things, Tarsus, but I've never known you to be afraid. Whatever else you've done, the man I knew would've met me in fair battle, blade against blade. He would've given his own life before hiding in the brush, shooting arrows from cover like a common coward."
He recovered quickly, she couldn't deny him that. The frown dissolved to a grin as he chided, "Dangerous talk, Princess --- for a woman who can't even sit up by herself. I'd watch that sharp tongue if I were you." He reached out a hand, tracing the curve of her cheek with one gnarled finger; and for the first time, she became aware that her armor had been removed to treat her wounds, and she was now clad only in bandages and her shift. Xena stubbornly resisted the urge to pull away --- but her eyes blazed with fury.
He said, "You're not the little girl you were all those years ago. Maturity becomes you, Princess." The hand moved down to caress the hollow of her throat.
And was stopped when Xena's fist abruptly slammed his arm away.
"Sorry I can't return the compliment," she said coolly.
Tarsus laughed --- a deep, hearty sound --- as the man rose with slow difficulty to his feet. Xena noticed the soreness, the stiffness of his limbs, and for the first time she became truly aware of the man's appearance. She realized that his face wasn't weathered so much as deeply creviced with age; and his hair was gray and silver-shot rather than sunbleached. For perhaps the first time, she became truly aware of the passage of years. Her eyes narrowed as she considered a whole new realm of possibilities.
"We'll stay here tonight, then set out first thing in the morning," the hunter said, stretching his limbs as if to loosen the joints. He glanced at the dark, angry clouds high above. Thunder grumbled in the far distance. "Weather might break tonight, maybe tomorrow. Some rain will make the journey a little cooler."
As Tarsus moved away, the bard rushed anxiously back, dropping to her knees by Xena's side.
"Are you alright?" she queried anxiously. "What happened, Xena? What did he say?"
Ignoring Gabrielle's flurry of questions, Xena watched in silence as Tarsus went about preparing his weapons to hunt their evening meal; and now that she'd finally noticed it, all she could see was the man's tight movements.
"Gabrielle," the warrior finally murmured in a low, intent voice, "do you remember those berries I gave you for lunch yesterday?"
"What?" the girl exclaimed indignantly. "At a time like this you're thinking of food?"
"Go find some for me. As many as you can before nightfall."
"But ..."
"Just do it," Xena finished wearily.
Gabrielle hid her concern behind indignation. She almost succeeded. "And I suppose you're not going to even consider telling me why?"
"No, not now. Not yet. There's no time. Just ... please?" Xena asked. "While you still have light left to see by?"
Gabrielle chewed indecisively at her lower lip. Doing as Xena asked, going out to search the surrounding forest, would simultaneously leave her wounded friend alone with a man who openly claimed to have ... to have ...
"There's no other way?" the bard queried softly, already ... in her heart ... knowing the answer.
Very slowly, Xena shook her head.
A heavy sigh, and Gabrielle muttered tersely, "Alright. But if I can't find any, I'm ..."
Xena leaned back into the blankets, her eyes closing as though she no longer had the strength to hold them open. She whispered, "Then don't come back at all ..."
It was already nightfall when Gabrielle made her way back to camp. By then, dusk had captured the world in its dim grasp, and the air had grown even more oppressive as darkness settled across the land; the terrible humidity was eased only by a fresh scent of rain hanging like a promise on the hot night air. It was the solstice night, the shortest night of the year ... the Summer Solstice, a time of celebration, and on this night mighty Zeus seemed determined to reveal his greatness with a display that mortals and gods alike would envy. Lightening threaded the sky with blinding silver-white streaks while the deep, booming voice of the lord of all gods echoed as thunder across a land parched by drought. The moon, the stars, the very sky itself seemed buried in layer upon endless layer of storm cloud. Not a breath of air stirred, as if the elements themselves awaited the approaching torrent.
Gabrielle found Xena in a restive sleep, her brow furrowed as nightmares tormented, and horrors unnamed danced through her dreams.
Tarsus sat in silence by the campfire, the hen he had killed and prepared untouched, his solemn gaze fixed pensively to the flames. Gabrielle wondered briefly what nightmares tormented him, what horrors danced through his mind on this brooding solstice night. Whatever they were, she thought, they surely couldn't be cruel enough or brutal enough to make up for all he had done to her friend.
Turning back to Xena, she laid a careful hand against the warrior's pale cheek, checking for signs of fever. Her touch was feather-light, a sister's loving stroke, yet it was enough to wake the woman from her fitful slumber. Blue eyes shot open, relaxing only when they focused on the bard's familiar face.
"Gabrielle," Xena whispered, and carefully levered herself up to a sitting position. Not for the first time, Gabrielle found herself awed by Xena's strength. It seemed nothing short of death itself could keep the Warrior Princess helpless for long.
"I found what you wanted," Gabrielle whispered back, and emptied her bag onto Xena's blanketed lap. Dozens upon dozens of the ripe berries tumbled out in a lumpy green waterfall.
Thunder cracked violently above, and lightening flared. The stillness of the air was marred as a strong, moisture-laden breeze whistled suddenly through the treetops, the campfire leaping in mad unison with the wind.
Almost, the warrior smiled ... but instead, Xena's gaze shifted to Tarsus. The big man had risen from his place by the fire, had moved to settle his uneasy bay gelding. The horse was snorting nervously and stamping his hooves, pulling against the tether binding him to camp. Spooked by the lightening, he wanted to run; terrified by the ear-splitting thunder, he wanted only to flee this place, to escape the fast approaching storm. Tarsus spoke to him quietly, stroking his neck, trying to calm the frightened animal. Watching him, Xena's lips curled into something frightful to behold.
She grabbed up a fistful of the berries, telling Gabrielle, "Put the rest back in your bag," then shoved the whole handful into her mouth, chewing quickly, swallowing hard.
Confused, still not understanding, Gabrielle did as the warrior had bidden. "Xena, I don't ..."
"Help me with my armor," Xena ordered, and reached in the bag for a second handful of the berries.
Gabrielle's eyes widened in shock. "Are you crazy?!" she hissed angrily.
Xena's eyes were deadly as they locked onto the bard's. She said grimly, "Either help me or don't, Gabrielle. But don't argue with me." Bracing herself, grimacing in pain, the warrior pushed herself first to her knees, then ... slowly ... to her feet. Pouch in hand, Gabrielle rose with her.
Xena grabbed another fistful of the berries before reaching for her armor.
"Xena," Gabrielle insisted, "don't do this. I can ... when I was in the woods, I found a long branch I can use as a staff. I brought it back with me --- it's underneath that bush there. Let me ..."