Disclaimer: Xena: Warrior Princess and its characters are the properties of Renaissance Pictures, Studios USA and MCA/Universal. This text is a strictly non-commercial piece of fan fiction inspired by and celebrating this wonderful show.
This is general fan fiction intended to read as an episode, not really as a piece of literature.
Spoiler Alert: The plot takes place during season 4 between the episodes 4.84 (The Way) and 4.85 (The Play's the Thing). It alludes slightly to events in earlier episodes, so, if you haven't seen season four, be warned.
Sex & Violence: No sex, no splatter, although there is fighting on the usual Xenic level.
Don't miss out on Christopher and Sofia's site The Chakram Arcs! http://medlem.spray.se/chakramarcs
WAY OF THE ROAD WARRIOR
by Christopher Härnryd
The sinking sun left pools and rivulets of golden light on the ridges of the barren hills and mountains. Everything out of reach from the sun was coloured ochre or darker brown. Even the sky was red, with hints of orange and pink.
The short silken dress of Gabrielle fitted well into this colour scheme, as did her short- cropped blonde hair. She sat facing west in a lotus position, meditating, or at least trying to. But her travelling companion seemed unable to let the subject drop and Gabrielle kept repeating a word that an unseen observer might easily have taken for the mantra of the day: "No."
Xena stood a few yards behind, polishing her sword with a piece of blue silk. It was good- quality silk and very appropriate for it's present task. It had by no means been uncomfortable to wear as clothing but, having left India behind, she saw no reason to appear as a runaway odalisque. The leather armour was once again firmly in place, complete with metal ornaments and a scabbard. But her friend, short of hair and stature, sat in her equally short costume and persisted in providing the same short answer.
"How about a whip?" Xena asked, making a brief pause in the polishing.
"No."
"A sai?"
Gabrielle did not answer directly. She remained absolutely still with the sun in her face. When she after a short while broke the silence she spoke slowly and in a flat, dreamy tone: "You're hoping that I'll turn my head and ask what a sai is, thereby ending my evening meditation so that you may persuade me more easily. No! Let go!"
Xena put Gabrielle down on the ground, still in lotus but facing the cliff face of the ledge where they had camped.
"This is what I do if I want to interrupt your meditation," Xena said whit a crooked smile and let go of the meditator.
"Hilarious. Now, tell me what a sai is so I can tell you why I don't want to learn it."
She untangled her meditative pose and stretched her limbs. Xena bent down towards the packing and fished out a dagger with overly large and sharply bent tines, giving the weapon the contours of a stunted trident. "This is a sai," she said and dropped it in her friend's lap, where Gabrielle managed to catch it before contact. "Feel it. It's an iron stick. No edge. If you're going to impale someone, you've got to push real hard. It's a protection. A light-weight shield. You parry and disarm with it."
The peculiar iron knife turned slowly between Gabrielle's fingers. She looked at it, and then up to her warrior friend: "Xena, it doesn't matter. It's a weapon. If I begin practising it and carry it with me, I'm preparing for battle."
"You're preparing for survival. Look, if a stone falls down, what's the harm in side-stepping it? I respect you following Eli's way of not killing or harming anyone, but I just want you to be able to protect yourself."
Gabrielle put the sai aside and frowned: "Everything else was just a ruse, wasn't it?"
Xena only raised her eyebrows in innocent surprise.
"That list of suggestions, quarterstaff, chain, club, whip...what kind of love do you think people would think I practised if I was waving a hefty whip all the time, ha! But the only purpose of the list was to make me accept fighting with a knife."
"Sai."
Suddenly, Gabrielle jumped to her feet, smiling. "Okay, I'll agree to practise a little with your friend sai here, if you agree not to harm a single person the next time we encounter some ruffians."
Xena smiled and shrugged: "Sure."
At that Gabrielle frowned once more, even if she was still smiling: "You heard my wording? You mustn't harm anyone. 'Harm' includes uppercuts and groin-kicks. If you want me to bend my way, you'll have to bend yours."
"How do you propose I defend us, then?" Xena snorted and rolled her eyes. "But sure! I'll not harm anyone until after the next ruffians. Deal?"
"Deal."
Then the Warrior Princess stepped forward, stamping on the sai with the tip of her boot so it whirled through the air and landed in her hand. "Well then, this is the basic grip with the little finger just like that..."
For the following three days they crossed the mountainous terrain and descended gradually into more fertile lands. Gabrielle did practise the sai under the supervision of Xena, and no ruffians interrupted the education. The areas they now passed belonged to the Persian Empire. Even during the passage to India, Gabrielle had expressed her doubts on the wisdom of taking this route. After all, it was not long ago that Xena single-handedly had stopped a Persian invasion force by cutting down soldiers until the survivors had fled. Xena had calmed her by saying that a realm the size of Persia never could watch out for individuals crossing one of the huge and desolate plains. If you only refrained from cutting down officers at every turn, the Persian villages was perfectly harmless to travelling Greeks, even obviously armed Greeks.
"But," said Gabrielle one day at lunchtime when they were having a break at a ford with obvious chimney smoke arising from behind a hill nearby. "At this time, shouldn't the news about you have spread through the Empire? Why did you throw away that silken dress, anyway? It would've been a great disguise."
Xena walked ashore with an ugly, lumpy fish in each hand and handed one over. "Stop nagging about my fashion sense. Make something edible out of this one instead." She continued, while eyeing the fish in still in her hand: "By the way, if the Persians had expected me to pass their borders, they could've spread the news all over the place in just a few days. They have an unsurpassed courier- network with post-houses along the highways only a few miles apart. A courier can ride at top speed on ever fresh horses. Borias was a big fan of it."
Gabrielle did not feel like breaking the ensuing silence, but Xena did it herself: "Here, take this fishy too. I thought it carried roe but it was just fat." She then froze and opened her eyes wide, only to close them immediately with an inaudible but very visible sigh. "What do you want?" She asked between clenched teeth, opening her eyes again.
Gabrielle came to her feet quickly, having already guessed that the question was not aimed at her, and scanned the surrounding. In that moment she wished that she had a sai in her hand instead of a fish.
Out of the shadows beneath the only tree that grew here, a shape strode clad in black leather armour, rich in studs and ornaments. His posture and facial expression radiated over-the-top indifference, but he was otherwise not that much different in appearance from the innumerable warlords that held him in awe. "I thought I'd just stop by," Ares said. "Talk some fish recipes and such."
Xena turned towards him and unconsciously grasped her chakram hanging in her belt. The sword lay next to the boots a couple of yards away. "Just pretend I already asked twice and spare me your humour, what do you want?"
"Okay, everything for the Warrior Princess. I had a good one- liner about fish 'n chicks, though." He smiled and spread his arms in a gesture that in others would have indicated an embrace or surrender, unthinkable concepts in conjunction with Ares. "I want to talk to you. Can we drop the kitchen staff?" The last was said with an indication towards Gabrielle, who stiffly sought eye contact with Xena. The Warrior Princess gave here a go-so-we-can-get-it-over-with look and watched her walk some distance away to gut fish. She would hardly need a fire to cook it...
"So, how was India? Any left alive?"
"I return wiser than I arrived," Xena answered. "You should try it."
"Ha! Close enough for a shoot in the dark. As a matter of fact, I HAVE tried it."
"What do you mean?" Xena asked and turned towards him, reluctantly curious. Openness about the past was rare enough in her and almost unthinkably in Ares.
"Curry, cool weapons...no, you now how it is. Your army wins at home, you look around, notices the neighbours, go there. You might've heard about warlord of mine, Alexander by name. - Anyway, the war ground to a halt, guerrilla nonsense in jungles and wastelands, spectacular diseases, logistics troubles. I tired of the whole thing, and so did my opponents', god of war, Kali."
A flash of memory made Xena gasp. The floor in Indrajeet's palace hard against her back, the impossible pain when the demon's blades cut of her arms, the name of Krishna formed by bloodstained lips to weak to speak it aloud...
...and Kali. Xena/Kali. Kali/Xena. She became the one that turned battlefields into graveyards and danced on them as she now began to dance with Indrajeet. His smoky smell of confidence replaced by insecurity and fear...
"...and you liked it." Ares, always the same. Always trying with the same old argument.
"I was saved from dying and recieved the power to defeat an evil demon. Yes, I liked it."
The Olympian looked up at the mass of leaves in the tree and was silent for a few moments. Then he continued: "Your mascot has embarked upon a new track, I notice. Her invincible little stick is fuelling some Dravidian fisherman's teapot. Good will, wimpiness and wove, sorry, love, that's evidently her new path."
His expectant pause was left to himself to fill in, because Xena saw his new trap and it's logical attraction. "But you follow the way of the warrior, as always."
"You were talking about some old campaign. Finish it and then leave."
"Okay. We were tiring of death without war, so to speak. So, we agreed to a duel, Kali and I. Her champion against mine."
"And you lost," Xena stated with just a hint of a smile, for the first time during the conversation.
"You're straight out of India! Did you see many temples to Ares, Ionian columns, signs in the Greek language, that sort of things?"
"Actually, I did see a dozen altars in a distinctly Greek style by an Indian river."
"Oh, that. A symbolic admittance of defeat, a formal excuse from the twelve Olympian gods. Rub it in, please! Look, it's a god thing, all right?" But he inhaled in a theatrical manner, heaving his leather covered chest, and continued in a calmer tone: "I do have a point. And it's not about my...regrouping. But, first I need you to realise one thing about yourself."
To Xena it was like watching a heavy stone falling from great height. It is falling deceptively slow. But you now that when it lands, it is going to be a big crash.
"You've accepted to follow the way of the warrior. That's why Kali was able to help you. But you are Greek! And in Greece I am the way of the warrior. So, you have freely chosen to follow me."
Xena brushed some river mud from the sole of her foot. She then put on one boot. She repeated the procedure with her other foot. "Ares, it's a long time since I followed you. Not long enough, though. We've had this conversation a few times to many, don't you think?"
"Fair enough. It was worth one last shot, don't you think?" He crossed his arms and smiled in an almost genial way. He continued: "But since I didn't think it would work, I'm going for a classic. If you don't agree to be my champion in the rematch against Kali, your friend dies."
When the whoosh of the blade was heard, the newly honed edge was already firm against the pit of Ares' throat. But the sharpness of the sword was nothing compared to the eyes and voice of the Warrior Princess: "Touch Gabrielle and I will follow you all right!"
"Ho! Whoops! Gabrielle? Who do you take me for, really?" He made a gesture to brush to blade away and Xena let it happen, but kept the sword raised threateningly. "But, I did visit the camp of the warlord Ordos and told him I'd see it as a personal favour, should he take his army to Pharsalus and kill one warrior there. And, since the warrior in question is not as well known as he would sometimes like to think, I did leave a detailed description including everything from his...peculiar helmet to his name..."
"Joxer."
After a pause only just longer than she would have liked, Xena said: "And why do you think I care about that clown one way or another?"
"Xena, Xena, you will have some time to come up with a better lie than that. Ordos needs a week to arrive there. If you at any time during that week say my name and agree to my offer, I'll pop by at Ordos's and countermand. But, as you well know, it would take you far longer than a week to get there, even should you have a horse, so there's no need for you to waste time on some rescue plan. I'd advice that you instead think hard about what you know about Kali and Indian fighting techniques so you're well prepared for the duel..." Ares left her without bothering to conceal the roar of torn space-time that accompanied his comings and goings.
When Gabrielle saw that Xena was alone under the tree, she took the gutted fishes and returned. After Ares's routine dismissal of her, she had resolved not to let him disturb her calm. But she had nonetheless cut her fingers several times since she had been unable to resist watching the proceedings from afar. The god of war had roared something and shortly thereafter Xena had pulled her blade against him. That had come as a huge relief to Gabrielle. No matter how well she knew the Warrior Princess, there was always a hint of darkness about her, and Gabrielle knew all too well how hard it could be to resist the tricks and temptations of the gods.
Nonetheless she dropped the fishes when Xena brought her up to date with the situation.
"Joxer!? He threatened to kill Joxer? That's unfair! As if he was someone we cared about, I mean, I guess we do, but he has always been following us around whether we like it or not." She sat down on a gnarled root. Xena remained standing, sword still drawn, forehead wrinkled and the free left hand formed into a tight fist. "But I see," Gabrielle continued, nodding slowly to emphasise her words. "He could've threatened to kill just about anyone. It would still have mattered to you. So, now you must fight the champion of Kali."
"The Tartarus I must!"
With a flick of her wrist she stuck the point of her sword into the scabbard lying on the ground and lifted it to let it slip in completely. She then grasped her sack, just to hurl it away the next second.
"But," Gabrielle began, confused. "Are you going to let him die?"
"No. I'm going to save him." Xena began to stride purposely against the shallow part of the ford without bothering to remove her boots. Gabrielle stared at Xena's back and then began grabbing their various packs and bags, half panicking.
"Wait! How? We've no chance to reach Greece in a week, even if we run day and night, which we can't. Or can you? Of course you can...Xena? Hello!"
Staggering under their collective loads, usually distributed two thirds to Xena and one third to Gabrielle, the little bard splashed after, stopping to retrieve the two lost fishes before continuing, panting, over the slippery rocks of the ford. When Xena had reached the foot of the hill, just out of sight from the village, she stopped and waited for Gabrielle. "Stay here. I don't want you to be seen with me."
When she saw the expression that formed on Gabrielle's face, she smiled and hugged her: "You know what I mean. I'm going to do something that will annoy some people and I don't want you to suffer because of it. We have to part ways for a few weeks. Believe me, if it wasn't Joxer's life at stake and a chance to foil Ares, I wouldn't do it, but that's the way things are. I'll wait for you in Pharsalus."
"Xena, are you trying to keep me sheltered after all this time? Will I be in the way? Is that it? What exactly are you planning to do?"
"Use the postal service."
"What? You don't mean..."
"Yes. See you in Pharsalus."
The Warrior Princess turned and walked towards the village. Gabrielle fought to control a mixture of angry disappointment, understanding, frustration and a lot of other things.
"Xena!"
She stopped and turned her head, inquiringly. The gutted fish came within a couple of inches from her temple before she caught it. "Dinner. But remember our deal!"
"Oh, yeah. The next band of ruffians is going to be really lucky."
Xena watched the three horses. They were standing under the pole-supported roof, which was clearly the stable of the post-house. It lay in the middle of the tiny village. The adjacent building had a flag with a sun and was probably the watch- house of the village, where the courier on duty was bound to be. A guard in a red coat and spike-tipped turban-helmet sat on a bench outside drinking from a clay jug. His spear stood leaning against the wall of the building. At his feet a barefoot young stable boy was busy cleaning brushes and curry-combes. The boy was clad in short trousers and a dirty and far too large shirt.
From her out-of-sight observation post in between two other houses, too narrow even to be called a by-lane, in a village too small to have any in the first place, she made her choice and walked briskly towards the stable. She had chosen her entry exactly when the guard tilted his head backward to empty the last of the content of the jug. When she arrived at the stable the guard spotted her. When she had loosened the reins fastened to the tether-post, his spotting changed from casual awareness to angry activity.
" ...!" he shouted. The jug dropped on the head of the stable boy, whose shriek drowned the guard's words about horse-theft and reinforcements.
The horse she had picked was already saddled. This was an unusual condition for horses in ordinary stables, but necessary in a well-organised courier network. But before she had time to mount, the guard thrust his spear at her, forcefully but with shaky aim to avoid spearing the increasingly worried horse. With her left hand Xena grasped the shaft of the spear, moved easily to the side, snatched it from him and planted the butt end firmly in the ground. She then grasped it with her right hand as well and pole-vaulted up in the saddle. The guard drew a short sword from his broad belt and behind him another guard was peering out of the door to see what the noise was all about. Xena urged the horse out of the stable while swinging the spear to keep the guard at bay. He jumped about sideways like a crab, threatening with his sword but clearly unwilling to approach the fast moving spear-tip. Xena made the horse rear, smiled madly and lifted the spear for throwing. With the guard crouching in panic, she had ample time to steer the horse and ride out of the village.
The two guards stared after her and then stared at each other.
"After her!"
The thunder of hooves melted into a uniform rumble beneath her as the rushing landscape became static blur close by and clear stillness far away. Only the play of horse-muscles against her thighs and lower arms and the wind grasping at her face spoke of high-speed galloping over a Persian plain.
When she glanced over her shoulder she could see the pursuing dots. There were four of them. How easy it would be to stop and wait for them! It would take half a minute, tops. Two minutes if they were cowards. Clumsy rural guards, a far cry from the Persian elites she had encountered that dreadful day when she knew Gabrielle would die.
No, it would slow her down, if only for half a minute, and she had promised non-violence for the next 'band of ruffians'. The horse-theft itself did not count. One guard was no band of ruffians whatever his drinking habits. Instead, she concentrated on the race. She was rested, as was the horse, eager and well trained. The short while to the next post-house would be pure pleasure. But riding day and night was tiring enough. Riding at full gallop day and night on the other hand...
The next post-house was not even a village, just a stable sheltered from the wind by a small hill, and a fat man in the process of scrubbing one of the two horses stationed there. A pitiful trail led towards a remote farm, probably the man's home. The relatively low roof of the stable made the natural plan to simply jump from one horse to another without loosing speed impossible.
"Are they here yet?" Xena shouted while stopping the horse and jumping off, spear in hand. She strode quickly to the horse currently being groomed, the one with the saddle, in order not to loose the initiative. "Well?" She said brusquely while untying the horse.
"Eh, who?" the man asked with a voice that treated all vowels as some kind of 'e'. He was not, however, totally without his senses because he immediately followed with: "And why are you out of uniform?"
"Special couriers, of course!" Xena growled and led the horse out on the road. "They ought to have been here hours ago."
"Special couriers? What's that?"
"Never you mind." She swung herself up into the saddle and rode away. The confused stable-keeper was left standing in a cloud of rising dust. He was still standing there when the four guards arrived shortly thereafter.
"Why didn't you stop her?" one of the guards hissed before taking up the chase.
And the stable-keeper kept standing on the road, long after the dust had settled.
Xena quickly found her rhythm. Changing horses was never difficult. She would arrive at unprepared post-houses, whether in large towns or as lonely stable in the wilderness. A jump, a bluff daring enough to give her the few seconds she needed, sometimes a sword cut to liberate the reins, nothing of this was in any way difficult. Her speed at least equalled the speed of the fastest news.
Now and then she sucked some nourishment from the raw fish. When it was gone she used the spear to impale fruits from plantations or wild trees she passed, without slowing down below gallop.
Sleeping in the saddle was a normal behaviour from her time as a horse bound raider and leader of nomad armies. But not even Borias had managed or even wanted to sleep astride a galloping horse.
The enemy was not the Persians. The enemy was the gradual exhaustion of a strenuous activity, normally reserved for short periods, extended to day after day.
The light of dawn warmed her stiff neck when the hair was blown up or to the sides by the wind. Her head and upper body were cold and she could barely feel her hands. But she felt her spine well enough and her thighs burned as with scorching fire. Pain. But if you have had had your legs broken while hanging on a Roman cross you know the meaning of true pain. And at night - which night she barely knew - the stars had been there for her. They had stared at her with their tiny, freezing eyes, but their slow wandering in the eternity above had been a consolation of sorts, a hint of something incorporeal that somehow yet travelled like her aching body.
To glance behind her was a tiring project, painful and slow. She opened her eyes wide. When was the last time she had looked? At night, of course, exact numbers were hard to count, but how was it possible that all these could have joined the chase during darkness?
Several companies were hunting her. Standards beating in the wind showed army insignia, even from this distance, which spoke of cavalry and mounted infantry from the elite corps. And the winged sun that the rare mounted archers fought beneath.
The horse under her began to tire. The next post-house could not be far away. The terrain was uneven here. Maybe she had let herself be fooled by obscuring hills when last attempting to count the number of followers. It was unlike her, but it was on the other hand a very long time since she last had felt this exhausted. But it was something in the air, a smell that seemed sharply familiar...
A city. This was the smell of a big city of thousands of people living on top of each other for centuries. But what city could that be? Or could this be the border city of Sardes already? She could have sworn that the ride had gone on for three or four days, at most. But if this was Sardes she must have ridden for six days and the borders of the Persian Empire must be just behind the city.
The obscuring hills grew fewer in front of her and a sloping plain opened up. The way meandered down towards a big city situated at a river. The city walls were high and even at this distance Xena could make out crowds of archers on them. Since the last cease-fire between Greece and Persia, this river marked the border. When last crossing it, they had travelled further to the north, but she knew of Sardes and it's reputation as a military stronghold. The Greek had only a token force on their side of the river. Every attempt to match the Persian show of strength at this particular place would be unthinkable expensive. And normally, Greeks could go unhindered to Sardes and trade.
She gave the horse a few precious moments to slow down while she took in the information she needed. There were not any bridges outside the city walls. Nor did there appear to be any fords, although the river was not very wild. But, like a handful of gravel thrown along the beach, a multitude of small fisher-boats lay in the water or on dry land.
An arrow bounced against her back-armour, made powerless by the distance but unpleasant enough as a reminder. Xena spurred the horse and it accelerated to full gallop once more. Straight ahead the Warrior Princess rode, heedless of the actual turns of the road. Behind her the pursuing soldiers shouted a war cry and came thundering after her. Now, at last, they had her in a relentless pincer. Them at her back, the fortified city in front. Inexhaustibly strong as she seemed, she must nonetheless have been weakened by her mad dash. Some of the soldiers had remembered times when the north-eastern tribes were governed by an invincible Warrior Princess. If this could be her, it would be a great honour to have taken part in her long delayed downfall.
On the city walls, people were beginning to take notice. Xena watched the slowly growing dots where soldiers moved about, beginning to string bows and adjust quivers. The city gate remained opened, but soldiers with spears hurried out to take up positions in front of it. Right at it Xena rode like a wildfire, as if leading the army that chased her.
But just before she would have come within bowshot distance from the city, she turned towards the fishing camps. The thunder from the pursuing riders changed and she did not need to look behind to know that they fanned out to cut off whatever retreat she planned. The few fishermen had looked up curiously to see what kind of entertainment this day had to offer, but when they saw the mass of riders turning towards them, they dropped the nets they were mending and began to flee in confusion to the sides. A few began to wade out to their boat, securely tied to a pole some ten yards out in the placid river.
"Secure the boats!" An anonymous officer shouted from the city wall.
Xena did not hear, because from her own throat there rose a guttural roar as she summoned her strength for a decisive test. It was the growling roar of a carnivore, far from her usual undulating cry. She jumped up onto the shaking saddle and sat crouching there. Perched like a bird of prey she stormed down to the beach in a cloud of flying sand, spurring the horse to a leap it could not make and did not want to try, but the will guiding it was not to be refused. While the horse fell down in the water, sputtering in panic, Xena kicked herself airborne from the horseback and jumped high to the still tied boat. Its owner had only just climbed aboard, but dove more or less voluntarily into the river once again when the Warrior Princess landed like an avenging angel.
She gripped the spear in both hands and twirled it with such force that it's tip cut straight through the rope anchoring the boat. She then dropped it in the boat and grabbed the oars. Already, the first arrows had begun to fall around her, and a fisherman in the water screamed in pain as he was hit in the shoulder. After a few moments at the oars the mounted archers had come so close to the beach and the boat had moved so short a distance, that Xena was forced to abandon any attempt at rowing. Instead, she had to use one of the oars to deflect arrows. Two archers were now at the beach, firing methodically at her. Now they were three, now four. The oar whirled like a windmill in full gale, but the steadily increasing number of shooters was quickly making her defence not only astonishing but soon totally impossible.
Desperately, she began rocking the boat sideways, faster and faster. It made her momentarily a slightly harder target to hit, but led inevitably to the boat flipping upside down.
In the pocket of air beneath the upturned boat Xena grabbed the seat and began to steadily march forward on the riverbed she barely reached. Noise around her in the water spoke of soldiers forcing their steeds into the water. River mud arose in whirling clouds, obscuring the vision even immediately below the surface. She struggled on, but soon the bottom of the river was to deep and she was forced to drive the unwieldy vessel forwards with leg- kicks. A sudden thump echoed around her, soon followed by another and another. At least one of the soldiers had reached the boat and begun striking at the hull to break it open. Should he succeed, the boat would become next to worthless to her, offering minimal cover and no air pocket.
Xena took a deep breath of the rapidly fouling air and dived, leaving the boat to its fate. She swam close by the pumping hooves of a swimming horse, but the muddy water hid her and she made progress over the equally muddy riverbed. Her body was already crying for oxygen. Normally, she would have been able to hold her breath for quite a while, but her exhaustion was affecting her badly.
When she had swum far enough for the vision to improve a little, she headed towards a clump of reeds. She resisted the siren call of the air, only inches away, and instead cut a couple of reeds with her chakram. The sturdiest one she put between her lips. She then turned on her back so that the reed broke the surface. With the last bubble of air still held in her lungs, she blew it clean of dirt and slime and then she lay still, sucking air for a long while until the fire in her chest calmed somewhat.
Then she began swimming, still on her back and submerged, towards the Greek side of the river.
"What is all this talk about you hiring a bodyguard?" The peasant woman angrily asked her husband when she came home after a long day of haggling at the marketplace. The husband in question sat on a stool in the dining room, seemingly thoughtfully watching something through the window. He did not in any way acknowledge the question. When it was repeated, reinforced with a couple of urgent taps on his shoulder, he jerked in surprise and turned to face her. At the same time he removed a couple of tiny amphora corks from his ears. The wife was then forced to repeat herself a third time, while underlining in no uncertain way that she was now at the very edge of her patience in this matter.
"It is not just any bodyguard, my dove."
"Since when do we need one at all?"
"He comes cheaply. Food and lodging only. But above all, he is saving the harvest."
The peasant woman pulled forth a second stool and sat down on it. "If he is eating our food, you'd better be certain he can spirit away every single crow from our orchard."
"But that is exactly what he can do," the peasant answered with a benign smile.
The sceptic retort from his wife was silenced, because in that moment, a strong noise was heard from the outside. In total symmetry, man and wife turned their heads towards the window and looked out through it. There, among the fruit trees, a man was walking idly. He wore something that for lack of better words must be called armour. A broad and conical helmet crowned his head and a sword hung by his side. The wife registered all of this with her eyes, but her mind was occupied by different stimuli. The man was singing.
The problem was not his voice, which had an unschooled but not altogether unpleasant timbre. Nor did he sing deafeningly loud. But the melody was so grating that you after a few seconds of listening was overwhelmed by a desire to run away, far away, and drink deeply of Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. And, purely as a side note, the text was not exactly of Olympian quality.
Speechless, the wife stared at the apparition, hardly noticing that her husband triumphantly put a couple of corks in the palm of her hand, corks which she without any conscious thought immediately lifted and jammed hard into her ears.
Except for the singer, the orchard was totally devoid of all life except that rooted firmly to the ground.
Along the main street in Pharsalus, five persons strolled, enjoying the attention others gave them. Upon seeing them, people would go pale and shut their doors and windows, grab their children, on rare occasions run towards them to offer bribes of one kind or another, or merely stand silent, staring in anger mixed with fear.
Their apparel was largely identical. Black leather trousers, with broad, red woven belts with big knives, bare torsos where dirty skin bulging with muscles was only minimally concealed by leather straps holding the shoulder-plates in place. Each man carried a large battleaxe, either resting on the shoulder like a woodcutter or more honestly carried in the hands, warrior fashion.
One of them was slightly more scarred than the others and completely bald. As if to compensate for his baldness he wore a beard so fiercely bristling that you could mistake it for a bizarre collar from some exotic court costume. In addition, he wore a large number of gold rings on his arms, while the others had only one or two each.
"Ripe for the taking, Ordos, one of them remarked, eyes aglow with greed. If we get the others we could take the village within a quarter of an hour!"
The one addressed, the bearded one, shook his head shortly: "Nope! We take the village three weeks after harvest as I said. We've a different task today, directly from Him."
"Right!" The first one answered quickly. "Of course!" He then kept his silence.
Ordos stopped in front of a tavern. It's owner peered out, anxious, well knowing that his only chance at keeping his business and his life was to keep the warlord happy.
"You! Where is Joxer the Mighty?"
"Eh, Joxer the Mighty, sir?"
Ordos stepped up to the owner and hacked with moderate force his battleaxe into the door- post. His kept his voice calm and under control and repeated: "I will ask once more. Where is the warrior that wears a round breastplate, a conical broad- brimmed helmet, calling himself Joxer the Mighty?"
With rolling eyes, the tavern-keeper tried to make sense of the various facts given to him: "Erm, I saw one wearing such a helmet only this morning. He was heading for the peasant Bysus."
Ordos raised his eyebrows in a meaningful way and the owner continued, frantically: "Over the square, go left by the maker of sandals and continue to the last house with an orchard. That is the home of Bysus, his wife Meluna; besides growing fruit, they earn their living by the needlework of the wife, her togas being of simple design but good quality and available in..."
And Ordos was on his way there with his four warriors. Everyone now carried their axes firmly in both hands. The owner looked terrified after them and when they disappeared out of sight he shook his head despondently, uttered a heavy sigh and turned to re-enter his tavern and mutter with his regulars about the evil times.
"Where is Joxer?"
In terror he turned again. The appearance of Ordos and his henchmen had shaken him badly.
But the apparition now in front of his door was like nothing you ever saw outside the realm of feverish dreams. It was a demon of Tartarus, a lamia, a harpy, a fury or worse. The black hair hung in stripes. The deathly pale face was shiny with sweat and grime and the steel carried by this terrifying woman in the shape of weapons and armour pieces was dull and threatening. But it was the gaze that pierced him and seemed to bore holes into the depth of his soul.
She sat astride a foaming and panting horse that rolled its eyes wildly. It too was covered in grime nearly up to its ears.
Unable to speak a word he pointed the way to the left of the maker of sandals. The angel of death turned her horse and rode in that direction.
So far, he had been saved by stumbling. During his wild flight among the densely planted fruit-trees he stumbled so often that his path became impossible to predict and the whistling axes kept spraying wooden chips several inches above his head. He now understood clearly why the peasant had accepted his offer so readily. These apples must indeed be of special quality if groups of warriors were ready to kill for them. On the other hand, he had encountered warlords who were ready to kill for any reason whatsoever.
"Haha!" He exclaimed in triumph when one adversary planted his axe so deeply into a trunk that he was unable to get it out, thus hindering his swearing companion. But another of the four chasing him came in from the side and he was forced to return to his jumping-stumbling run. He had thrown away his sword early. It obviously would only hinder him in the battle.
Ordos bit into an apple, testing it, where he sat in the peasant's room. With their backs pressed against the wall, the peasant and his wife trembled before him. Ordos had his battleaxe lying on the table at his side. He had it all in his hand, Joxer would be dead in a minute and the apple was good, if slightly sour. Making a face he grabbed his axe and hurled the apple up in the air, intending to cleave it before touchdown.
Something forestalled him. This whirling and cutting something that split the apple in half ricocheted against the wall and cut straight through the shaft of his axe, before disappearing back to it's point of origin, the hand of Xena. Astonished but with undaunted aggression, Ordos pulled out his broad dagger, but had it kicked out of his hand with such force that it flew a long way out of the window to land vibrating in a tree in the middle of the hunt. The warlord adopted a more defensive stance, but found himself held by the beard and pressed against the wall: "I've made a promise to a friend," Xena hissed. "So, I'm never going to forgive you if you force me to cut you open from crotch to chin and stuff you full with apples."
"You're Xena, right?" Ordos managed. "What do you want?"
In answer, she dragged him to the orchard-door. She kicked it open and yanked his beard while simultaneously tripping him so that he fell over. He assumed that the cold steel he felt on his neck was from the infamous chakram, and that the fluid seeping forth was his own blood.
"What do you want?" he repeated in a panting voice.
"Call off your men and leave. Now!"
With a clear shortage of alternatives, the stunned Ordos made his disappointed men stop their Joxer-hunting and retire, followed by their released, frightened and furious warlord.
"Xena? Nice of you to drop by!" Joxer came jogging with a happy smile that diminished somewhat when he saw her condition.
"Joxer? You all right?"
"Sure. It'll take more than four of those to best me; you know me!" Then he wrinkled his nose. "hat's that smell? Is that you? When did you last have a bath? You know, hygiene is important even in the field. I always wash every third week..."
"Come inside," Xena said, stiffly.
As they entered the peasant's room, Xena slowly collapsed on the floor.
"Xena."
"Xena."
"Xena!"
She opened her eyes and sat up. The pain made her wide awake which she accepted as a good thing. The smell of apples and the look of the walls told her that she was still in the peasant's house. Joxer, leaning over her, had to jump backwards when she had sat up. With the routine of a practised warrior she began to examine by touch what kind of armaments she wore and the condition of her body, while asking Joxer what the matter was.
"You know that warlord we routed..."
A raised eyebrow.
"YOU routed. The warlord you routed. He's back. With company."
"How many?"
"I saw eight on one side, four on the other, four on the third, and eight in the orchard."
"Hum, one would think you incapable of grasping military forces above the strength of eight. But all right. First: where are my weapons and my armour?"
Embarrassed, Joxer bent and held up the leather armour, including the black leather shift, and started babbling: "It was Meluna's idea and it was she who undressed you. She noticed you had leg-sores and washed you and bandaged and stuff like that. Bysus and I, we were not allowed to help. I promise I didn't peek in the slightest..."
"Joxer?"
"Yes? Anything I can do?"
"Shut up."
With a conspiratory wink and his hand on his mouth he nodded. He then stared with wide eyes and turned very fast.
"Sword." He bent to retrieve it and then held it out behind him and got it yanked out of his hand.
"Chakram. No, just tell me."
"On the table under the blanket. I've polished it, and the sword, for you."
When she had it in her hand she felt complete again. The whole of her body, especially her tights, ached, but pain can be endured and ache is not even pain to a warrior.
The tiny room in which they were had only one window, facing the street. She peered out and could indeed make out eight axemen. One of them was Ordos. He was now armed with a bow and carried two smaller axes in his belt. They stayed at the far side of the street and alternated between tense observation and badly faked coolness. Something was odd.
"Joxer, it was evening when I came here, but it still seems to be evening."
"Er, well, you slept a whole night and a day, and then another whole night and a day."
She contemplated this for a moment. "Get me something to drink," she then commanded him. While Joxer was away, she said to herself: "I kept my promise, Gabrielle, but now I must follow the way of the warrior. I only hope a sai will save your life one day."
"Cider?"
She took the large amphora from Joxer and emptied it in one draught.
Well then.
"Xena!" Ordos shouted from the outside. "You were lucky a couple of days ago. Don't think that your overblown reputation frightens us, but just as a precaution I've brought an overwhelming force."
"But you've got one last chance. Hand over Joxer, or his head, so..."
At that point he was interrupted by the sounds of battle from the orchard on the other side of the house. Reluctantly impressed by the bravery of the Warrior Princess, but still undaunted, he ordered: "Kill everyone in the house!"
Six of the eight on the street rushed the door and quickly brought it down with their axes, while Ordos himself and a bodyguard watched from a distance. From both sides warriors were breaking in through shut windows. Through all this he could clearly hear the battlecry of Xena and the sounds of intense mêlée from the back.
"Hurry, quickly!" Xena hissed when all eight in the garden was either unconscious or unfit for duty on the ground. Crashes and thumps were heard from several parts of the house simultaneously as the enemies penetrated through pitiful barriers of thin wood. Joxer and the peasant pair hurried out of the orchard door and crouched against the outer wall as Xena had ordered. Xena herself went into the house.
It was in reality no more than a large room, a small room, a larder and a loft. To the large room led, besides both doors, broken windows on both sides. Because of that, the room was crowded with warriors either just arrived or in the process of climbing or rushing in.
Xena drew her knee into the stomach of a warrior and forced him aside so that his bent upper body knocked the breath out of the next warrior. An axe-cut from above was deflected by her bracer into the shoulder of a third warrior. With a leap onto the back of the one she first had stunned, she was in a perfect position for some head-kicking. There were no more axes aimed at her. Even thugs of this level recognised the idiocy of using an axe in this crowded environment. Daggers on the other hand...
In the chaos of at least five of Ordos' men reeling or crouching with Xena-inflicted wounds, a sixth managed to make a couple of stabs uncomfortably close to her abdomen. But at the second attempt, she was fully prepared and caught the hand with her left hand and broke an underarm bone with her right fist.
Then she pulled out her chakram.
Ordos managed to refrain from shooting the person exiting into the street when he recognised him as one of his own. This one was soon followed by one, two, four, five, eight, nine of his warriors, several of whom staggered or desperately grasped wounded bodyparts.
"Draw your weapons! Fight! Get her!"
Ordos kept roaring while holding the bow drawn, searching for a shadow in the doorway that could serve as a target. Several of the retreating ones halted at this and those still in possession of their axes raised them and went into position around the door, ready to kill anyone exiting.
Xena, of course, arrived around the corner. Not running in an attempt to surprise, but rather strolling in an almost flippant way, her chakram in one hand and a dirty rag in the other, which she used to clean the blood off her peculiar weapon.
Ordos howled incoherently and fired a shot at her. The arrow was struck aside by the flat side of the chakram. The two nearest axemen spotted her and rushed to attack, swinging their weapons eagerly. Xena put the chakram in her belt and dodged first one, then another of the axes. When they next took a swing at her she kicked one axe so it thumped against another. A strike full in the nose downed one axe-fighter.
But now the rest rushed her. Axes whistled, more co-ordinated than before, and she jumped backwards. Then she drew her sword and flashed out in a wide arc disrupting the three axes aimed at her in that moment. She disarmed one by catching the axe just below its head and then yanking it out of its user's hands. The stolen axe, hanging precariously on the tip of her blade, she began to twirl like a propeller around her sword, thereby temporarily stopping the attacks. She then proceeded to use the improvised double-weapon as a kind of flail so that the shaft of the axe with great force and unpredictability rapidly struck down two foes. Then, with the battleaxe in her left hand and the sword in her right, she entered the fray with bewildering frenzy, throwing enemies left and right.
The last unharmed warrior of the six that had attacked her out on the street managed to run away by sacrificing his weapon. By that time, Ordos and his ordained bodyguard was also leaving, and Xena watched their retreating backs, as well as her left-hand axe and the fallen on the ground, with satisfaction. She then let the axe drop to the ground and re-entered the house.
In a cave lit only by the occasional torch, Ares entered in a blue haze and the sound of torn space. He glanced around briefly, little more than a dark silhouette against the feeble torchlight. In the middle of the cave there was a pool filled with something that was not water, and by it sat a dark shape that was not human. The Olympian god of war went to the pool and the shape, who, with her wildly unkempt hair and multitude of large jewellery had an enigmatic outline. Only at very close range was it possible to clearly make out her four arms. Then, she opened her eyes and something of the red in the pool was reflected as she slowly turned her head.
"Ares." Her voice was a guttural hiss.
"Kali. I challenge you to a duel, champion against champion."
"A rematch? Who is your new champion?"
"Xena."
"Show me..."
Kali returned her gaze to the pool. Ares went slowly to its edge and moved a couple of fingers in a circle in the air. Before the eyes of the gods the pool began to glow, and in its depths a ruby rider was seen among rosy rocks. Behind her rode red soldiers, but the ruby rider grew in the pool until she filled it completely. "You are lying, Olympian, are you not? I have been with this one. She is no follower of yours anymore. How will you make her fight Dakini..."
The pool burst briefly into flames, and when they receded a completely different scene showed up, although still draped in red. It was the summit of a castle, thick with mailed soldiers with scimitars and straight bladed battle-scythes. Among them a figure was moving, shorter and definitely slimmer than the robust soldiers, and with a kind of queue whipping like a crazed snake from her head. The figure appeared to be able to strike enemies down with her touch alone, but when she grew in the picture, you could see the claws fastened on top of her hands, tearing in every direction and spraying torn chain mail rings and dying flesh. Every moment an enemy fell, dying. Dozens were already down.
"So this is what your famous Dakini looks like. I appreciate having got to see her one last time. Kali, Kali, seriously, since when did formalities keep you from a good fight?"
Even as a god, Ares gave a start when Kali suddenly jumped to her feet and drew her four weapons in a furious kata. The corpses of babies hanging around her neck and the cut off hands at her waist bounced and danced with the play of muscles. As suddenly as she had begun, she stopped. Then, she leaned towards him: "And where does your Xena wish to die?"
The pool of blood erupted once more and lit the smiles of both wargods.
The man landed and slid forward on his belly on the grass like a penguin on ice. When he stopped, he tried to get up on his hands and knees, but one of his colleagues choose that particular moment to run past him in panic and tread hard on his hand. The escapee's short green vest flapped in the wind while his crested helmet was swaying to the side. His dark brown leather trousers wore a fresh boot-mark on the seat. The scabbard at his side bounced empty up and down.
The man finally managed to get to his feet. He did, however, make the mistake of glancing over his shoulder before running. Because of that he saw his nemesis approaching, smiling murderously but still without having drawn her blade.
"What part of 'leave now' didn't you understand?" Xena asked and marched the last few yards towards the man. He, however, came to his senses and ran away as fast as he could.
Xena watched the remains of today's warlord attack stagger away from the village common. This time she had found them before they had reached the house of Bysus and Meluna, and just as well, because the thugs had brought torches. She stood with her arms crossed and her feet well apart, but her smile disappeared as the warriors departed.
She had been here a number of days. After Ordos, four gangs had turned up searching for Joxer. They had all been on pair with Ordos and his axe-killers and consequently not a problem to her. She had not in detail explained to Joxer why he suddenly was a prime target for warlords normally busy with looting farms and blackmailing hamlets. But neither was she planning on spending the rest of his life as his bodyguard. Ares was simple, in his own way, and definitely stubborn, but sooner or later he usually realised when a strategy simply did not work. She hoped he would not take too long. When Gabrielle would appear (she refused to use the word "if" in that context), she would gladly leave. With Joxer if necessary...
With a snort she returned to the village. Outside the main settlement was a sprinkling of small groves. She suddenly realised that even if the attacks were uncoordinated, even the dimmest warlord would eventually learn from experience and begin to use new methods. The torches were one innovation.
Diversions could be another.
Annoyed with herself, Ares and (slightly unfairly) with Joxer she began jogging back to the house. There on the street were four green-vested thugs she had missed. They had drawn their swords and were in the process of breaking down the door, mended only this morning with sturdy, unpainted wood. A hooded spectator was also present. After the initial shock, rumours of Xena's martial skills had spread through the village, and some very foolish or very brave villagers had begun to turn up for the frequent shows. The fact that this particular spectator did nothing to help the dwellers of the house was not really a surprise to Xena. Four armed thugs are four armed thugs unless you are a Warrior Princess or the like. But, being already in a state of irritation, this was the last straw.
She increased her speed to a run and somersaulted the final distance with her battlecry echoing between the houses. She promptly landed on the nearest warrior and used his collapsing body as a springboard when she jumped into the air and spread her legs wide in a double kick that felled the following two. As she landed she waved aside a clumsy sword-cut with her arm and struck a blow to the chin that propelled her opponent several yards back.
But no sooner had the beaten quartet begun its escape, than the hooded one stepped forward and removed its hood.
The Warrior Princess stared at the stranger. She was distinctly dark skinned and had painted red mark on her forehead. The plentiful dark hair was drawn back from the face and worn in a long ponytail beginning on the top of the head and trailing far down on the back. The woman's features were sleek and the eyes thin over high cheekbones. She smiled, baring teeth filed to triangular points: "Are you Xena, the champion of your war god?"
Xena was silent for a moment before answering in a tightly controlled voice: "I am Xena, but I fight for no god. Who're you and what do you want?"
The other one broadened her smile and continued with her sharp and slightly monotonous voice: "I am Dakini, the champion of Kali. If you are Xena then my fight is with you."
Having said that she shook of her robe. Beneath it she wore a short red skirt of leather strips, not unlike Xena's own, and a brassiere in the same colour and material. On her lower arms she wore bracers-gloves hybrids armed with steel claws extending two inches beyond her fists. A sword shaped like a large sickle or question mark hung in a back-scabbard. Her feet and the rest of her body were bare.
To fight; release her pent-up irritation, wonderful! Xena did however draw a deep breath and continued with forced calm: "Dakini. I will defend myself if I have to but I will never fight for Ares."
The sword of the champion was suddenly in her hands and was parried with an equally sudden clash by Xena's sword. The sword was drawn back and Dakini began circling Xena slowly, sword stretched forward and slightly upward. Xena remained in place but turned to follow Dakini with her own sword lifted behind her and her left arm raised to the level of her chest. With a grin that completely bared the filed teeth, Dakini attacked, slashing wildly with her sword in two hands. The intensity of the attack made dodging impossible and direct parrying steel to steel the only defence. The street resounded with the ringing of steel and the loud moaning of Dakini accompanying her every cut. Suddenly, Xena made a riposte where the tip of the sword made an almost full circle clockwise, then counter-clockwise. During that tiny moment when Dakini's guard was open Xena kicked her in the pit of the stomach, but the champion rolled back on the ground only to jump to her feet, still grinning.
Dakini now made a huge leap, somersaulting above Xena and landing in a pirouette that came within an inch of decapitating the Warrior Princess, had she not simultaneously crouched and parried. Still crouching, Xena swept at the legs in answer, but Dakini jumped and whirled her blade so close to Xena's face that it now was her turn to roll backwards. But she planted her free hand on the ground and cart-wheeled back to Dakini who had to jump aside to avoid being brained by boots or disembowelled by the flashing blade. A couple of swift sweeps with the curved blade drove Xena back, but she managed to get to her feet and an interlude of fast but stationary fencing ensued.
"Why do you fight?" Xena asked suddenly while their blades were temporarily locked.
In answer, Dakini let go with one hand, thus tilting Xenas blade to a better position, but Dakini slashed at her left arm with her claws of steel and danced away from Xena's angry attack. Dakini retook her two-handed grip and whirled a fast kata.
"The way of the warrior, Xena! The way of the warrior!"
Xena touched her damaged arm but exploded suddenly in a leaping attack that took her over Dakini while the sword slashed after the dodging champion. Both fighters turned around fast as lightning, and their blades crossed once again in a series of fast strikes. Then Xena feinted, turning a high thrust into a sideslash to Dakini's leg and made her jump back.
"The way of the warrior or the way of Kali?" Xena shouted and followed with cuts that occupied the swords while not directly threatening the other.
Every trace of smiling disappeared from Dakini and the bared teeth became fangs. She charged with her sword whirling in a frenzy even surpassing the speed of the bladework so far. With an astonishingly complex web of steel she managed to lock Xena's sword so that by tearing with a temporarily free clawed hand she sent it flying through the air far away.
"Kali is war, the war is Kali!" Dakini hissed and slashed against Xena, several heavy and lethal blows. The wound in her arm was shallow and no real distraction, but Xena was at a dangerous disadvantage. She flung up her chakram, using it as a parrying device. It played the part fair enough, but as a mêlée weapon it had very limited range. Throwing was not at the moment an option. Suddenly Xena stumbled and fell backwards. Immediately, Dakini was there and hewed heavily to cleave her enemy. But Xena's fall was controlled and her legs kicked up in a lightning fast scissors-grip, catching the curved blade between her boots.
Laying on her back and thus able to use the full force of her legs, Xena wrenched the sword to one side so hard that it fell from Dakini's hands. But before Xena had time to grab it, Dakini was coming like a tigress, steel-claws digging for flesh and blood. Releasing the chakram could well be a fatal move, but it was the only option if she wanted to try to catch the arms of Dakini. She did and for a few moments they lay there, Dakini with her claws an inch from Xena's face, Xena with her hands clasped around Dakini's forearms. The Xena twisted her legs once more, and the sword held between her feet cut into Dakini's calf. Sputtering and hissing, Dakini tried to roll aside, enabling Xena to push her fingers in between an arm and a claw-bracer. Crying out incoherently, Xena pried with all her strength and was rewarded with bloody knuckles and a fighting-claw falling to the ground, dislodged from its bracer. Dakini tore free and made a cartwheeling jump, spraying blood from her calf in a wide arc.
With the sword of Dakini now in her hands, Xena climbed to her feet and followed the gradual, zigzagging withdrawal, both combatants waiting for an opening.
"Not every war needs a god, Dakini!" Xena panted.
"I follow Kali," Dakini growled. She was scanning the ground left and right and Xena knew she was looking for the remaining sword. Or the chakram. Cursing, Xena looked in vain for the circle-weapon. But that gave Dakini the chance to triumphantly run and pick up the blade of Xena.
"People are fighting without worshipping either Ares or Kali, don't you realise that?" Xena shouted. "Fight if you want to, but don't fight just because someone wants you to! Without a goal, the way of the warrior is pointless! Leave the gods to do their own duelling!"
Then Dakini stopped and pressed the fingertips of one hand to the mark on her forehead. She then held out the hand against Xena, now red where she had touched the mark. The entire palm began to shine with an amber glow while the fingertips shimmered in red. Dakini let out a cry beginning deep in her throat and raising all the way to a piercing shriek: "KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALI!!"
And the sword carried by Xena flashed and began to glow with such heat that it became impossible to hold. It had barely reached to ground when its light became painful to the eyes. Smoke arose from the gravel around it and the sword itself began loosing its shape as it melted.
Then Dakini started walking towards Xena, fast, but without running. The chakram had to be nearby but in that instant, Xena could not find it. Dakini leaped and reached Xena. A dance of death began with whistling swordcuts barely avoided by Xena's dodging and jumping. Now and then a surprise clawing attempt with the remaining fighting-claw came within an inch of drawing more blood. Somewhere on the ground lay it's mate, maybe useful in some way despite it's condition, if only...
"Xena, take this!" It was the voice of Gabrielle. And something came falling through the air. Dakini slashed, but by supreme effort Xena leaped out of the way and caught the falling object.
It was a sai.
Dakini shrugged, smiled widely, and attacked again. But greatly rejuvenated by the voice of her soulmate and with a useful weapon in her hand once more, Xena was ready. When next the sword came sweeping towards her she blocked with her sai, and with it's oversized tines it caught the blade. Then Xena twisted it and the sword went flying out of Dakini's hand. With snakelike speed, Xena caught the hilt and was suddenly carrying a sword in her left hand as well as a superb parrying weapon in her right. Dakini's smile evaporated, but she retreated only one step and made circular movements with her hands, concentrated and determined.
But then Xena lowered her sword and threw the sai to the ground. The hand movements of the champion continued but she did not move from her place. She was clearly puzzled.
"Now listen up Dakini. Kali has won. If Ares did choose me, he has lost. If you fight for the glory of your goddess, the battle is over. If you don't care about Kali and only wants to kill me for no good reason, then now is your chance."
Xena flipped her sword around in the air, catching it with her hand on the blade. She took a step forward and pushed the hilt towards Dakini, who instantly gripped it with two hands. Xena let go and waited, arms hanging. A few moments of stillness passed. The heavy breathing of both warriors was the only sound.
Then Xena turned around and started walking. After a short while, Gabrielle came running.
"Here, your chakram."
"Thanks. She still here?" Xena asked in a low voice.
Gabrielle shook her head.
"And your sword and your...the sai lies over there. Xena?"
They stayed, facing each other.
"Yes, Gabrielle?"
"You've quite a tactic there. Don't think I didn't recognise it from when you negotiated between amazons and centaurs."
Xena closed her eyes and shook her head. "This was different. Neither amazons nor centaurs fight indiscriminately. If anyone, you should now at least the amazon code of honour. Dakini was different. Kali..." She opened her eyes and smiled a crooked smile: "At least I've learned that some things never change. War gods are all alike, Ares, Kali, Kal, their followers are killers, sometimes momentarily confused by their fanaticism, like now, but killers nonetheless."
They went to retrieve the sword of Xena.
"Even hardened murderers can change though," Gabrielle said with a broad smile.
"I know," Xena answered and took her sword and the silken rag, by now extremely dirty. "It's just that I'm so furious with..."
"Me?" As he appeared, Ares' voice had a tone of supreme confidence unjustly hurt. "Sometimes you really do surprise me, he continued. Now, you've managed both to loose personally and embarrass me before Kali. You did have some good moves during the fight, though. I watched it, of course. Maybe your famous intuition about my presence is failing?"
"Ares, your presence was unmistakable, whether you were here or not." Without condescending to give the god of war a look, she devoted her full attention to the cleaning of her dusty blade.
"Kali will return, you know," Ares remarked. "Now she believes Greece to be weak."
Then Xena turned her head quickly and gazed at Ares: "Then you deal with it! Defending the weak, that's the only justification for war!"
"Sometimes you're SO naive," Ares hissed and disappeared in mist and lightning.
"I've realised we need to do more than just following our different paths," Gabrielle said thoughtfully as they walked out of Pharsalus.
"Maybe," Xena answered, glancing questioningly at her friend.
"We also have to stop hindering each other from following them."
Gabrielle halted and looked up at the Warrior Princess. The Bard was smiling, but it was a serious smile. "I will never again stop you from being a warrior when you need to be."
"Gabrielle," Xena said, a slight smile on her lips as well. "My path is the easy one. I could never manage your's. And yes, I will make sure you never have to leave it."
They started walking again, in silence.
"Joxer, "Xena asked after a while. "Do you want to learn how to use that sai of yours?"
"Eh? Well, no, er. You see, I'm very grateful for you giving it to me and all, but it was a little, er, dulled. Well, frankly, you couldn't cut butter with it, so I sold it in the village. I hope you don't mind..."
The Warrior Princess indicated by her benign silence that she did not mind at all, and they continued, leaving Pharsalus behind them.