The Chronicles of Gabrielle
The Heart of a Warrior Book 2:
My Disclaimer:
Xena, created by Rob Tapert and John Schulian, and all of its characters are the sole property of Renaissance Pictures. This piece of fanfiction is not intended to infringe upon the rights of the studio or any of its benefactors in any way. No copyrights or trademarks were harmed during the production of this story. I write about Xena and Gabby because I love them, and I want to share my imagination with the Xenaverse, not to make money.
I would love to hear from you! Send your comments to sliderz105@yahoo.com
They were a week out from Amphipolis, and so far everything had been going okay, if one could call being without a certain warrior princess okay. No bandits or warlords, cyclopses, giants, or any other such problem. The only thing plaguing them was the rain. There had been an almost constant downpour for days. Neither Gabrielle, Jarra, nor Ezra could remember a time when they had been completely dry over the last few days. They could barely keep a fire going. Hair and clothes sodden, they trudged on through the mud and wet. When they made their soggy camp that evening, they were thankful that their destination, the city of Sapai, was only a little less than a day away. A day to Sapai, then one or two more to the coast port where they would be able to catch a ship to the islands. From there they could find a ship going to Alexandria. Soon, the Land of the Pharaohs would be their home.
They had no idea that something was watching them from the woods, and waiting…
* * *
Their camp made, Gabrielle had finally, miraculously, managed to get a fire going with the soggy timber available. It was a weak one at that, the puny flames struggling to survive on the damp wood. Still, they were slowly catching, the fire growing gradually with her assistance.
When the fire was burning heartily on its own, she brushed the soot and grime from her hands as best she could and went in search of her friends. She found them in the nearby stand of trees where they had tied the horses. The sound of Ezra’s flute had led her there. She poked her head out from behind a tree; both were totally oblivious to her presence.
Jarra danced slowly, as if in a trance, singing softly to the mournful melody that Ezra played on his flute, her eyes closed. Gabrielle knew the ritual she was performing. The Amazon Grieving Dance. She knew it all too well. As Jarra sang, she silently mouthed the words along with her, feeling their healing power move through her, and remembered.
Images of Xena flashed through her mind, all the places they had been, all the wonders that they had seen, how wonderful their lives had been because they’d had each other. The singing stopped and the spell was broken. Ezra was putting the flute back into its polished wooden case.
“That was beautiful, Jarra,” she said, sounding very loud to herself after the silence following the Grieving Dance.
Jarra started and spun, eyes wide in a startled expression. Ezra’s head snapped up.
She smiled at them apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
It seemed like she had been doing that a lot lately, moving so quietly that no one noticed her. She had by no means gone crashing through the bushes all these years, but her level of stealth had increased dramatically since her return from Japan. She smiled again, remembering all of the times she had nearly jumped out of her skin when Xena had snuck up on her, intentional or otherwise. Gods, but she had wanted to wring Xena’s neck sometimes for doing that-now she was doing it to her friends.
“Its okay,” Jarra replied with a familiar easy smile. “Why didn’t you join in?”
“I did, in my own way,” she answered enigmatically.
Jarra cocked her head quizzically, the unvoiced question in her eyes. Ezra had the same look of askance on his face.
I grieve for the way things had to be, but not for Xena. She isn’t really gone, Gabrielle said to herself in answer, but the words didn’t come out of her mouth. She couldn’t speak them. It wasn’t time yet.
When no answer was forthcoming, her friends didn’t push her for one. They knew that she would talk when she was ready. When they sensed that an uncomfortable topic had come up, they carefully backed away from it. In part, she was very grateful for that, but it was starting to irritate her in a way, that they felt they had to be so delicate with her emotions. She wasn’t as fragile as they were treating her. Or was she?
She couldn’t afford to doubt herself, not if she was to continue, to go on, but the questions still hovered behind every thought, everything she did.
“You really miss her, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.
“More than you’ll ever know,” Jarra answered, deep melancholy coming through in her voice, the look in her eyes. Her expression turned thoughtful. “There are people who move in and out of your life, leaving a part of themselves with you. What they leave behind changes your life forever. For me, Xena was one of those people.”
In the wake of those words, Gabrielle was left speechless. That simple truth applied to her as well, but in ways that Jarra could never know or dream of. Xena was a part of her soul, always and forever.
It was a long time before she found that she could speak again. “I’ve got a fire going,” she stated simply, the power of the Grieving Dance and Jarra’s words still reverberating through her. From the look on their faces, her friends were feeling it, too.
Taking their cue, Jarra and Ezra followed her back to the fire, where they ate a modest meal before turning in for the night.
* * *
“Gabrielle. Gabrielle,” a voice was calling insistently. A hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently but urgently. “Gabrielle!”
Gabrielle pulled herself up from the depths of sound sleep, focusing on the voice and its urgency. This had better be good, she thought. She was exhausted. She couldn’t have had more than an hour of sleep, but she forced herself awake anyway.
“Gabrielle, you have to get up. Now.”
Xena. It was Xena who was talking. Xena who had woken her. But why?
“What is it?” she asked groggily. Her eyelids felt like they had heavy sandbags attached to them. She had not been sleeping well of late, and when she did it never lasted long. The dream always came sooner or later, torturing her, robbing her of any chance at rest.
She propped herself up on her elbows, throwing back the fur blanket that covered her. Goosebumps sprang up on her skin the instant the chill night air hit her. She sat up, shivering, rubbing her arms to try and restore some warmth to them without much success. She opened one eye, just a small slit, to look up at the sky. It was still dark, stars twinkling faintly, the moon full. At least it wasn’t raining.
She sighed crankily. “Xena, it’s the middle of the night,” she complained.
“Get up,” Xena said again, “and wake the others. Quickly.”
For the first time she noticed the undertone her friend’s voice carried. Warning. Suddenly she was quite awake and alert, her irritation at being awakened all but forgotten.
“What is it, Xena?”
The spirit of Xena, that only Gabrielle could see, hear, or feel, spoke quickly. “I don’t know. But something isn’t right here. There’s danger coming. There isn’t much time.”
More trouble. It wasn’t that she went looking for it, just that it always seemed to find her no matter where she went, what she did, or who she was with. She was more capable of dealing with it these days, thank the gods, but that didn’t make it much better.
What danger? No one was around-she would have heard them by now. But something did feel…off, somehow. Her instincts were screaming at her, telling her something was coming and she had better be ready, that she should listen to her friend’s warning. The more she thought about it, the more she could feel it. The hair rose on the back of her neck. She had to wake her friends.
Pulling on her boots, she went to Jarra first, who was awake almost instantly. One look at her face and Jarra knew something was up.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t explain,” she said hurriedly. “Just get up and be ready.”
Though a little confused, Jarra obeyed without question, pausing only to wake Ezra, who had been sleeping soundly beside her.
Gabrielle paused briefly to listen. Behind the sounds of the forest all around her, she listened-still there was nothing. An itch in the back of her mind, like the feeling a person gets when they know they are being watched, was telling her otherwise.
She shoved her sais into her boots and snatched up her katana sword, not wasting another instant. Something was coming. She could feel it. It would be upon them at any second.
“Get your weapons, quickly,” she ordered her friends in a harsh whisper. Still clueless to the danger, they obeyed.
She drew her samurai sword, the one given to her in Higuchi, feeling its familiar weight in her hands. The feeling of imminent danger pressed at her from all sides at once, the weight of it oppressive. Still, she neither saw nor heard a thing.
“Gabrielle, something is coming,” Jarra said, drawing her own sais from her boots. “I can feel it.”
“Something isn’t right here,” Ezra said, eyes darting nervously around, his sword raised and ready.
Jarra looked to her friend, eyes intense as she asked, “What in Tartarus is going on?”
That’s when they came swooping out of the trees, making no sound at all, black human shapes with glowing red eyes. The silence with which they moved was unnatural. Why hadn’t she been able to hear them?
One was suddenly in front of her. It was human in form alright, but there was nothing human about those red eyes or the fangs that flashed in the moonlight as it dove for her throat.
Gabrielle slashed at it, a stroke that it should not have been able to avoid. But dodge the blow it did, ducking under and away. It spun in a flash and its fist connected with her face. She shook her head dazedly. A metallic taste in her mouth-blood. It went for her throat again. This time by a stroke of luck she was able to anticipate it and buried her sword hilt-deep into its middle. She planted a boot squarely on its chest, pulling her sword free as it fell back. It hit the ground hard-and got right back up.
She backed away, mind reeling. That wound was fatal, but that thing was getting back up and showing no sign of slowing down.
Sounds of a struggle to her left; Jarra was taking a beating, bleeding from a split lip and a cut over one eye. Another one of those things was fighting her. Jarra was barely keeping up with it, and Gabrielle knew that she would not be able to hold her own for much longer. That thing would rip her throat out as soon as she faltered. Ezra tried to help her and was thrown across the camp into a tree for his trouble.
An almost debilitating fear hit her. Gods, it was happening again. Friends in danger, and she had to save them. Could she save them, or would she fail them like she failed Xena?
She fought down the fear, looking to Ezra, who lay in a heap on the ground. Whether he was conscious or not she didn’t know. She didn’t have time to look. Neither of those things was making a move for him, he wasn’t in immediate danger. Jarra was.
He could be dead, she thought for a terrible instant. You failed, Gabrielle. You couldn’t save Xena, and you couldn’t save him…
She reached for the chakram clipped at her waist. Before it cleared the clip, she was grabbed from behind. In that moment of hesitation that her fear had caused, she had neglected to pay attention to the thing coming for her.
Failed, failed…failed…
Its arms around her, it squeezed with inhuman strength, hissing in her ear. She couldn’t breathe. Much more of this and her ribs would snap, and that would be the least of her problems. She twisted desperately in its grasp, but it was no use. A rib gave way with an audible crunch, but she didn’t have enough air to cry out. Darkness closed in at the edges of her vision.
The pressure lessened, and she sucked in a grateful breath, the darkness clearing. The sharp pain in her side made her gasp. At least one rib was broken. The creature still held her. She couldn’t break free.
Hot breath on her neck, then piercing pain. It stemmed from a spot on her neck, moving all through her shoulder and coruscating down her arm. Her mouth hung open in a silent cry, back arching at the exquisite agony. Pooling warmth on her neck where the pain was the greatest-blood. Her blood. Greedy slurping noises filled her ear. That thing was drinking her blood. She struggled weakly. Her strength was draining away with each passing second. The blackness closed in again, her consciousness failing as her lifeblood was being sucked out of her. Her sword dropped from nerveless fingers. The thudding of her heart, becoming steadily slower, was all she could hear. So this was how it would end…
Xena…
At the edge of awareness, she felt herself being released, and suddenly she was on the ground. Faintly, she heard shrieking, coming from the attackers. Her vision began to return. Dimly she saw the red-eyed things running into the forest. The stars had gone, the sky had brightened. Sunrise was near.
She tried to get up, but she hardly had the strength to lift her head. The last thing she saw before blacking out was a bloodied Jarra running toward her.
She floated in nothingness.
Was she dying? Was she already dead? It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
“Gabrielle?” a woman’s soft voice called from somewhere behind her. Warm, soothing hands cradled her. The touch, so familiar-warm, firm, yet gentle, it could only belong to one person.
With great effort, Gabrielle opened her eyes, blinking and struggling to focus. Xena’s face swam above hers, and she let her eyes slide shut. She was too exhausted to keep them open. But it was alright. Everything would be alright now.
Hands gently brushed the hair out of her face. “Rest, Gabrielle. No one can hurt you now.”
The pain in her side would not allow her to rest. She would drift off, lying safely in Xena’s arms, only to have the agony in her side wake her moments later. She faded in and out, stirring fitfully in her brief moments of consciousness.
Xena’s voice floated to her through the haze of pain and exhaustion. “I’ll try to help you, Gabrielle. Hold on, for me.”
She felt Xena’s hand cover the place where the pain was the worst. So warm-the warmth spread outward and the pain eased. She relaxed. She was with Xena. No more hurt, no more pain. Her soulmate’s love and warmth enfolded her, and she surrendered to it completely.
“I love you, Xena…”
* * *
Gabrielle awoke much later. How much time had passed she did not know. She had thought she was dead.
Floating in a surreal dream-that’s what it had felt like, hovering there on the edge of death. She’d felt such peace-it reminded her of the angels when they came to take she and Xena after their brutal crucifixion at the hands of the Romans. But there had been no angles this time. Just Xena. Her soulmate was worth a thousand angles. More. It had seemed like a dream, but it most certainly had not been. Xena had really been there, had held her and eased her pain as she clung desperately to life, hanging in the limbo between this world and death.
If any fears about dying remained in her mind, they had been banished by this experience. When it was her time, Xena would be there to welcome her. Xena would take her in her arms and together they would face whatever new existence awaited. There was nothing to fear. Death was not the end-Xena had proved that to her. It was only the beginning. But just how close she had come to dying still sent a small shudder through her.
She stirred weakly. Every muscle and joint ached. Her side throbbed. Her abdomen felt tight when she breathed. She tried to sit up, but her strength failed her. She moaned at the fiery pain the movement ignited in her side.
Gentle hands on her shoulders.
“Lie still, Gabrielle. Don’t try to move.”
Jarra.
“You had us worried.” This from Ezra, who was also near.
“How long,” she croaked. Her throat was dry. Speaking almost took more effort than she had the strength for.
Jarra brought the waterskin to her lips and she sipped the cool water gratefully.
“You’ve been unconscious the entire day,” Jarra explained.
She opened her eyes slowly. Jarra was crouched beside her, face tight with worry. It was almost sunset. She let her eyes slide shut again. It was too difficult to keep them open. Asleep the entire day? Yet she was still so tired…
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
“Still at the camp we made yesterday.” It was Ezra who answered this time. “We were afraid to move you.”
That bad? But she knew that she had been near death.
“You scared me, Gabrielle,” Jarra said softly. She could hear the tears in her voice. “It was pretty touch-and-go there for a while. We almost lost you.”
Jarra had been very deeply shaken. She could hear it in the way her voice trembled. She had almost lost another friend.
Gabrielle tried to move once more, but it was no use. She was too weak.
“Gab, please, don’t move,” Jarra pleaded. “You’ll only make things worse. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and at least two ribs are badly broken. You need to save your strength.”
She let herself relax. Jarra was right. But they needed to get out of here…
“I’ve bandaged your ribs up nice and tight,” Jarra told her. “Should help with the pain. Its about all I can do for you.”
Bandages. That explained the tightness around her middle. The pain was minimal, as long as she didn’t try to move too much or breathe too deep. Far less than it should have been, actually. Had Xena really been able to aid their healing? That was too complicated a question for her mind to ponder in her present exhausted state.
She felt Jarra pull another blanket over her and tuck it around her tightly.
“Try to rest, Gabrielle.”
She had no trouble obliging. Warm in the blankets and tired beyond imagining, she sank beneath the surface of consciousness. On the fringes of sleep, she was barely aware of the conversation Jarra was having with Ezra.
“-the wound is so small. She couldn’t have bled that much from just that.”
Hearing that, she fought her way back toward consciousness. She had to tell them…
“It bit me,” she whispered.
“I know. I saw it happen,” Jarra informed her. “That still doesn’t explain-“
“Drank my blood,” she interrupted. Consciousness was fading fast.
“What?” Ezra asked, incredulous.
“Lamia drink human blood,” Jarra reasoned aloud. “But those weren’t like any lamia I know of.”
That was the last thing Gabrielle heard before sleep claimed her.
* * *
This recent turn of events had scared Ezra much more than he was letting Jarra know.
One moment he’d been rushing to save Jarra, the next flying through the air and having the world go dark as he slammed into something. Hard. Jarra told him later that one of the red-eyed things had thrown him into a tree when he tried to come to her aid. He came to minutes later to find the things gone and Gabrielle down, bleeding from a not-too-serious looking wound to the neck, an ugly purple blotch on her side where her ribs had been broken, barely breathing. The terror he’d felt in that moment-the only thing that would have panicked him more would have been finding Jarra lying there in such a condition.
They had almost lost Gabrielle. Dear gods, they had almost lost her. So deeply shaken by it was he that he trembled at the thought. Not just at the thought of losing Gabrielle, which was terrifying in and of itself, but at the thought of what that might have done to Jarra.
Despite the way things might appear, Jarra wasn’t hanging on by all that much, and losing Gabrielle would have surely broken her. That scared him in ways that were indescribable.
The truth was that the tragedy of Xena’s death had consumed him as well. She had been an incredible presence in his life. Her loss was a void that he didn’t think he would ever be able to fill. She had been his friend, and he missed her deeply. It would never be the same without her. Never. He still owed her so much for saving Jarra, the woman he loved. Without Xena’s help, he would have lost her to her own demons and torments.
To lose another friend so soon-it just might have broken him, too. Gabrielle had almost died… His hands shook, and he clenched them into fists to steady them.
Just what were those things that had attacked them? They drank human blood-Gabrielle’s condition proved that-but were they lamia? Lamia were supposed to have the lower body of a snake. Those things hadn’t. Would they come back tonight? He hoped not, because he wasn’t sure that he and Jarra could fight them off again. The best thing would be to get out of there, to the safety of the city of Sapai not far away. But they couldn’t move Gabrielle, not until tomorrow at the earliest. Their only choice was to stay and stand watch and hope those monsters didn’t come back.
Gabrielle slept for most of the remainder of that day, which was just as well considering her injuries. When Jarra re-wrapped the bandages, just before nightfall, he got a good look at the angry purple-black blotch of bruising over her ribs, the myriad of other bruises, and winced inwardly. Very painful, and very serious. Sleep would bring back her strength, give her time to heal.
When darkness fell, Jarra took first watch, sitting against a tree, strung bow in hand and an arrow from the quiver attached to her horse Demos’ saddle nocked and ready to let fly in an instant. Like most Amazons, she had been trained in archery, and he had never seen her miss a single shot in all the time that they had been together. Arrows were in short supply at the moment, but the extra protection would be worth the risk of using them up.
When he looked up, his eyes met hers, and in them he saw his own worry and fear mirrored. They both hoped that Gabrielle would be alright, and they both prayed fiercely that those things would not return.
Gabrielle was markedly better the next day, though her full strength had yet to return. Pale and drawn, the look of someone who had suffered severe blood loss, she lay on a makeshift litter that Ezra had fashioned for her. She was still too weak to do much more than walk from one side of their small camp to the other, and it would hurt her ribs too much to ride Argo. Even when she could manage to get to her feet, Jarra or Ezra had to be there to steady her lest she fall. If there was the possibility that she could ride, she still might not have the strength to stay in the saddle. So Ezra led Argo, who pulled the litter, while Jarra rode close beside.
It really was too soon for Gabrielle to be moved safely, but all of them felt there was little choice. All had been quiet the previous day and last night. No further attacks had come, but it was too much of a risk to linger outside the safety of the city any longer than necessary, knowing what was out there. It certainly was not safe to stay in one place. They had to move on.
Gabrielle’s hand drifted to her injured side, bruised and swollen beneath the tight bandages. Her fingers then brushed the puncture marks on her neck. She was alive, and for that, according to Ezra, she had Jarra to thank. Jarra’s quick and skillful ministrations had saved her life. And even that had almost not been enough.
She wasn’t entirely convinced that it had been enough. That was no fault of Jarra’s; Gabrielle knew that her friend had done everything that she possibly could. When she had been with Xena-that had been no near-death hallucination. It had been real, she was sure of it. Something had happened in that time that she couldn’t explain. The spirit of her soulmate had been her savior; she had no doubt about that now. Whatever Xena had done, it had been just enough to ensure that she lived.
Despite their easy pace, the litter hit a bump in the road hard, jarring her sharply, sending pain lancing through her side. Still, it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. She wondered again just what it was that Xena had done to her. Her injuries had healed noticeably since just this morning. Regardless, she was thankful for the healing she had been given, no matter how strange it seemed.
* * *
The day was no less cold for the sun that was shining down upon them, the swirling breezes no less sharp. Huddled into their coats despite the deceptive brightness, Jarra and Ezra hurried as much as they dared with Gabrielle on the litter, shivering in the bitter cold air.
It was just now midday, the sun failing to warm them as it hung high and bright overhead. At their current pace they could reach Sapai by sunset. Ezra was glad of that; he didn’t want to spend another night out in the countryside if he didn’t have to, not when he knew what was out there.
The wind picked up, becoming icier, stinging and numbing exposed skin. Jarra waved them to a halt and jumped down from her mount to check on Gabrielle. She put another blanket around her sleeping friend, trying to keep her as warm and shielded from the biting wind as possible.
Ezra watched Jarra fussing over Gabrielle, thinking. It was a small miracle that their friend was still alive. Even more miraculous was the speed at which Gabrielle seemed to be recovering. She should have been bed-ridden for days, even a couple of weeks. Yet this morning she had been up and walking around, albeit weakly and unsteadily, and awake when they had moved out of camp. That wasn’t all-according to Jarra, her badly broken ribs were healing abnormally. That is, abnormally fast. Several days worth of healing had occurred in the space of just one. Neither he nor Jarra could explain it.
That was what had gotten him thinking. He remembered the night of the attack, and the subsequent fight for Gabrielle’s life, quite vividly. They were doing everything that they could as their friend lay there unmoving-dying. Both of them knew it, frantically denying it and trying to stay calm. Nothing helped, and Gabrielle slipped further and further away. Jarra had done everything she could, not that there had been much, and all they could do was hope. Gabrielle’s condition continued to deteriorate, her breath so shallow that there was no visible rise and fall of her chest, and almost no pulse.
Jarra had sobbed with grief and frustration, helpless to stop what was happening. Her pain had only served to double his own. To see the love of his life suffer so, to watch his good friend die, had nearly killed him.
Then a miracle happened. Gabrielle had no pulse that either of them could discern-they’d thought that she was dead. Jarra was hysterical with grief. He was sobbing, too. Then he heard it-a deep intake of breath. Another. Gabrielle was suddenly breathing again, regular and deep. Scarcely able to believe it, he’d seized her wrist, searching for a pulse, and he found one. It was weak, but strong enough, still. Strong enough that he knew she might be able to pull through. What was more, Gabrielle had taken on a whole different appearance-she looked relaxed and peaceful, no longer looking as though she was suffering, and though still very pale, the littlest bit of color had returned.
He and Jarra had cried again, tears of joy this time. Joy and immense relief.
Miraculous. And it had made him wonder just what had happened to Gabrielle there at death’s door. What had been done that she should be recovering so quickly? What was it that had brought her back when she was so obviously lost? He didn’t have the knowledge to answer that. No mortal alive did. What he did know was that Gabrielle had come back to them, and that was all that mattered to him.
* * *
Jarra, foot securely in one stirrup, was about to haul herself back up into the saddle when the world around her froze and suddenly shifted. After a brief moment of disorientation, she discovered that her horse, Ezra, Gabrielle, the countryside, were all gone. In their place, grim iron-gray stone walls, like those of some dark castle. Burning torches spaced at regular intervals provided light to an otherwise dismal and dark chamber. In front of her, at the far end, a throne made entirely of skulls. Lounging in it was the god of was himself, Ares.
She swallowed hard. Everything that Xena and Gabrielle had ever told her about the god of war and his ways replayed in her mind. She didn’t fear Ares, not exactly. But he was a god, one with a reputation for cruelty, and he could destroy her with a snap of his fingers if it suited him to do so. She relaxed slightly, realizing that Ares most likely had brought her here because he wanted something. First he tried Gabrielle, and now he’s trying to mess with me, she thought. She had some measure of power over the situation. His power, however, was a very real, almost tangible thing, sizzling through the air, reminding her just who was the god and who was the mortal.
This mortal won’t be cowed, by a god or anyone else, she told herself resolutely as she gave Ares her best tough-girl, steely-eyed stare.
“Did Xena teach you that look?” he asked. The question lacked the sarcasm that she would have expected to come with it. His eyes were hard, but there was hurt there, too. Whether it was real or not…?
“Why am I here?” she demanded boldly before she could stop herself. Bravely she forged ahead. “I’ve got places to go and an injured friend to take care of. Things that are more important than dithering around here with you.” The last sentence came out as a sneer.
For a brief instant, his gaze was sheer murder. Well, if she had gone too far then so be it. She no longer cared. She was in no mood to play games, least of all with Ares.
“You presume much, talking to me like that,” he said dangerously, rising from his throne to approach her. “Xena really has rubbed off on you. I wanted to help you, but-“
“Why would I want your help?”
He came to stand before her, his towering bulk dwarfing her by comparison.
“Kobejitsu lamia. I can teach you how to kill them,” he stated enticingly.
Her brow furrowed. “Kobe-what?”
“Kobejitsu lamia,” he repeated slowly, as if to a small child.
She felt herself bristle, but thought better of responding to the slight. He wasn’t worth it. And just what in Tartarus was he talking about, anyway?
“I am talking about what attacked you in the woods, almost killed Gabrielle, and would have killed you, too if they’d stuck around to finish you off,” he clarified.
“Those weren’t lamia-“
“Yes. They were.”
A new breed of lamia?
“The kobejitsu variety are assassins, warriors. Trained killers. And they are just one type among many of a new breed. How you kill them is very specific. There are only two ways. I can teach you.”
It was a familiar tune that Ares was singing. She knew it all too well, and wasn’t going to trust him.
“What’s the catch?”
“None,” he stated flatly.
That sent up warning flags for her immediately. He wouldn’t just help her for nothing. There had to be something in it for him. Didn’t there?
“Why me?” she wanted to know. “Why not take your little proposal to Gabrielle?”
“Because Gabrielle is too stubborn and set in her ways to listen. I was hoping that you would be a little more open to reason.”
Then his lips were next to her ear. His breath was hot as he whispered persuasively, “I can teach you, if you let me.”
She wanted to say no. According to everything that she had ever been told, taking anything from Ares never came to any good. But knowing how to kill those lamia-valuable knowledge. Life saving knowledge that they might need. How could she turn that down?
He moved behind her, hands coming to rest on her shoulders. His voice and his breath caressed her ear and her senses. “Let me teach you, and I can help you find the things you’ve lost…”
She was suddenly listening very willingly.
“So much fire,” he purred. “It would be a shame to see it go out. You can use it against them, and anyone else who would stand in your way. You can be what you were.”
“I’m listening, Ares.”
* * *
Ares returned her to the exact moment from which he’d taken her. It was as if she’d never left.
Dear gods, just what did she think she was doing? Dealing with Ares was like playing with fire-sooner or later you’re going to get burned.
But it would be worth it wouldn’t it? Lives could be saved with the knowledge he would impart to her about the lamia. That is, if that really was what he was going to do.
I can help you find the things you’ve lost… You can be what you were…
She heard the words over and over again in her mind. He’d offered her the one thing that she couldn’t say no to. She would risk almost anything to get back that thing inside that Xena’s death had stolen, that thing that which Jarra had only when Xena was by her side, that which she had so long as Xena was alive and there to help hold her up. She wanted it so desperately that her heart ached for wont of it. Without it, she would crumble. She could be what she had been again…
But she couldn’t tell Ezra, and especially not Gabrielle. They would never understand her uneasy alliance with the god of war. About that, Ares had been correct. She at least was willing to listen, and she would walk away if she found that he was deceiving her. If anything went wrong, she vowed to walk away.
“Something wrong?” Ezra asked, looking at her oddly.
Jarra snapped out of her thoughts, realizing that she was just standing there, one foot in the stirrup, doing nothing.
“I was just thinking,” she answered lamely.
“What about?” He was still looking at her with that odd expression.
Her suddenly strange behavior must have tipped him off. Play it cool, she told herself. Don’t let on that anything happened.
“Nothing important.”
Jarra hauled herself up into the saddle, doing her best to ignore the odd look Ezra was giving her. Her secret was safe.
She had found a way back to being the person Xena had made her. Why did it feel like a horrible mistake?
* * *
The trio of friends reached Sapai just as the sun was sinking beneath the horizon.
They moved leisurely down the road, despite their urgent desire to get somewhere safe. A sea of whitewashed buildings with tiled roofs stretched out before them as they drew steadily closer.
Almost the instant that they came within sight of the sprawling city, Gabrielle awoke, insisting that she could walk. Jarra was having none of it.
“I know that you think you feel alright, Gab, but you need more rest.”
“I’ve slept for nearly two days,” Gabrielle argued. It was clear that even something as small as this exchange was tiring her. And she wanted to walk.
“You can’t afford to push yourself. It would be very unwise-“
“I don’t need to be mothered by you, Jarra,” Gabrielle shot back, voice rising in irritation brought on by fatigue. She was on her feet now, face to face with Jarra.
Jarra’s jaw twitched. That stung.
“I have to agree with her, Gabrielle,” Ezra broke in gently. “It might be too much, too soon.”
The fight suddenly seemed to go out of her, and she just looked very, very tired. Perhaps she was seeing common sense, maybe it was because she was outnumbered, but she acquiesced, though not entirely.
“A compromise then,” she said. “I ride Argo.”
Jarra opened her mouth to protest, but a look from Ezra silenced her. She reluctantly nodded her assent, clearly unhappy with the compromise and making no effort to hide it.
Suppressing a shiver, Gabrielle donned her long coat and went to mount Argo. Ezra moved to help her, but she waved him off, the look she gave him not unkind but one that made it clear she didn’t want any assistance.
Quickly, the littler was unfastened and the blankets packed up. With much more difficulty than was usual, Gabrielle managed to get herself up into the saddle. Despite her fatigue, she sat tall atop the golden mare as they continued toward the city gates. In the dimming sunlight, the unnatural pallor of her skin lent her an ethereal quality that made her look like some sort of mythical being rather than a mere mortal. Her face was set with weary determination.
The strength of spirit that Jarra felt from her at that moment was unlike anything she had ever felt from her friend before. This was indeed a very different Gabrielle from the one she once knew. Stronger, more capable, supremely confident in her abilities, more…
Like Xena.
The thought suddenly popped into her Jarra’s head and she realized that right now, her friend had that look.
Gabrielle has come a very long way, Jarra though with sudden admiration. Then she noted the lines on her friend’s face that hadn’t been there before, the hint of sadness behind her eyes where there used to be joy. But getting here hasn’t been easy for her. It’s been harder than someone as good as she is deserves.
“War is hard on the soul,” she remembered Xena saying. In Gabrielle, it showed. It showed more than ever since her return from Japan.
She’s lost so much…
Losing Xena the way that she did-no one should ever have to go through that. And it had left scars, just not the physical kind. Jarra saw it in her eyes every time she looked at her. Yet she endured. Such guilt Gabrielle had carried over what she had wanted to do-forsake the souls because all she wanted, all she cared about was Xena. But she had finally come to understand that real, true love can make a person go against everything that they ever believed in. She had come to accept that desire to save her friend above all else, even when it would have meant doing the wrong thing. She couldn’t help it. She loved Xena that much. But she also loved Xena enough to do the right thing and let her soulmate have her long sought redemption. The greater good was served just the same. Above all else, that was all that mattered. And Gabrielle was still bitter because, as she had confided to Jarra, the creation of Yodoshi and the fire in Higuchi that killed so many, the evils that Xena had been responsible for, were just one huge, horrible accident. Xena had to pay for that with her life. In Jarra’s mind, if anyone was to blame it was Akemi. Akemi used Xena, and no matter who the blame and responsibility fell to, it was Akemi who set it in motion. But Gabrielle forgave Akemi, and Jarra admired that because it would be oh-so easy for her friend to hate that girl, who couldn’t have possibly known what she was going to cause in the end. No, Gabrielle was bitter because her soulmate had to die over something that was just an accident.
Jarra thought back to that fateful day at the port. She’d been so happy to see Gabrielle, happy at the prospect of seeing her dear friend Xena. But she’d sensed something was wrong the instant that she looked into Gabrielle’s eyes. Her heart had shattered when Gabrielle told her that…that-
Don’t, she ordered herself fiercely. It won’t help anything.
The last few weeks were a blur-it was hard to believe that they had journeyed to Amphipolis and laid their friend to rest, and that now they were here, and soon they would be on a boat to Alexandria. So much heartache, and yet somewhere along the way they had started to heal. Together. There was so much soul searching left to be done; at least none of them would have to do it alone.
And they would be doing it in an entirely new place-Egypt, a place that Jarra knew well. She and Ezra had gone there after he had found her and taken her away from the bloodshed she had wrought, twisted by grief as she was after her father’s murder. For every night that she’d spent in Ezra’s arms, loving him, there were dozens more that she had spent tortured by the horrible things she had done. But ultimately, Egypt had been a place of healing and growth-maybe it could be that for her again. Maybe it could be that for Gabrielle as well. She hoped so. Hoped beyond hope, for her friend’s sake, because for all that Gabrielle had changed for the better, there was a darkness, a hardness about her that had not been there before and didn’t belong there now. Jarra could only hope that she would be able to let go of it. It was tarnishing someone who was otherwise so bright-it saddened her to see that.
They had to get away from Greece. Too many memories lingered here, and besides, Egypt needed their help.
Gabrielle moved ahead at a trot, and Jarra was going to follow when a sudden impulse made her hang back instead.
Leave her be, something told her. You can keep an eye on her just as well from here.
* * *
Gabrielle nudged Argo into a trot, moving out a ways in front of the group. The movement of her mount jarred her ribs and she gritted her teeth against the pain. She brought the mare to a walk as soon as she was out of her companions’ hearing range. She tuned her ears to them-Ezra was asking why she had gone ahead. Leather creaked as Jarra shrugged in reply. Neither one of them was going to follow. Good.
“Feeling better?”
Gabrielle looked down to see Xena walking at her side, clad in her armor, as though nothing had changed. As if Japan had never happened.
She gave Xena a small smile. “Yeah,” she said softly so that there was no chance of Jarra or Ezra hearing her. “My ribs still hurt.”
Xena’s expression was apologetic. “There’s nothing more I can do about that.”
“Just what did you do?” She wondered. “It was all so strange…”
Her friend sighed. “Honestly, Gabrielle, I don’t think there’s any way I could explain it to you that you could understand.”
“Are you insulting my intelligence?” she joked. “You’re not, are you?”
This elicited a wicked smile from the warrior. “Of course not,” she answered honestly.
A warm hand came to rest on her knee, the touch reassuring and wonderfully familiar. “Rest assured, I was there, and I helped you as much as I could.”
She smiled in thanks, her hand briefly touching Xena’s before her friend withdrew it.
The warrior looked out over the city, her expression becoming troubled. “Something isn’t right here, Gabrielle,” she warned. “Be careful.”
“I know,” Gabrielle replied, following her gaze. She looked confidently into her friend’s worried eyes. “I will.”
Chapter Three
“ Is it just me, or does this place seem a little bit subdued for a big city?”
So it wasn’t just her. Gabrielle wasn’t imagining the fact that the city was unusually quiet. That is, as quiet as a city could get without being deserted. Something felt wrong here, and Jarra was picking up on it, too. So was Ezra, if his wary attitude was any indication. She was all the more inclined to heed Xena’s warning and watch her back while they were here.
Finding a place to stay was taking longer than it should have. The first two inns had flat-out refused them. The fear of the establishments’ owners had been palpable. And it wasn’t a simple fear of strangers. Even if it was, a fear like that was abnormal in a big city such as Sapai, with so many merchants and travelers passing through on a regular basis.
Another thing that was wrong: there wasn’t nearly as much people traffic here as there should have been. Few merchants, travelers, or residents were about at all.
All of that had Gabrielle worried. That, and the fact that she thought she would collapse from exhaustion if they didn’t find accommodations at the next inn. Despite the appearance she was putting on for her friends, she hardly had anything left. But she couldn’t be weak. She had to be strong, for them.
Just a little farther, she told herself again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d had to say that inwardly on the ride into and through the city, frustrated with her lingering weakness and doing her damndest not to let it show.
You could be dead, she reminded herself soberly.
They came upon the next inn, the last one in the city (according to one of the locals that would actually talk to them), a place called Splendor of Sapai. Ironically, it was anything but. Shabby and run-down, complete with a few window shutters barely hanging on by one hinge, it was anything but splendid. Gabrielle didn’t really care at this point what condition the place was in. It could’ve been a barn, as long as it was warm and dry and there was something soft she could collapse onto and just sleep. Being on the road with Xena all those years, she had learned to take what she could get.
Jarra and Gabrielle reigned their mounts to a halt in front of the inn.
“What are we going to do if they won’t take us?” Ezra asked, echoing what they were all thinking.
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out,” Gabrielle said, sincerely hoping that they wouldn’t, because she didn’t have the strength to go any farther.
So tired that she’d all but forgotten about her injuries, she carelessly swung out of the saddle, first gasping at the sudden pain in her side, then clutching at one of the stirrups to keep from falling when her legs wouldn’t support her weight.
Strong hands gripped her. Ezra’s. Without a word, he supported her until she regained strength enough to stand.
“I’m okay,” she said in response to her friends’ worried glances.
She took one step and her knees buckled. Fortunately, Ezra was there to catch her.
“Easy, Gabrielle,” he soothed, easing himself down to sit on the inn’s front porch, cradling his exhausted friend in his arms. “You’ve done enough for today.”
She felt the frustration rise up again, angry at her helplessness. She had overdone it, and she knew it. But there were no I-told-you-so’s, not even from Jarra, just concern for her well being. Friends helping a friend who desperately needed them. She relaxed against him, knowing that she was safe, that he and Jarra were there for her. In the space of a few minutes, the time it had taken for Jarra to dismount and secure the horses, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
“If there’s any kindness in your heart, you’ll give us a room,” Jarra pleaded. “My friend is very ill. We need a warm, safe place to stay, for her sake at least.”
Even that didn’t seem to change his mind. The portly innkeeper frowned, making his neat mustache droop. His brow furrowed as his expression became pained. “It’s not that I don’t want to give you a room-“ he began.
No. It wasn’t that at all. He clearly desired to help them. Jarra saw it in his eyes, the troubled look on his face. That was what pained him so. But fear, of someone or something, was curbing his kindness, making him suspicious of anyone, afraid of everyone. Fear of what, though?
This innkeeper wasn’t the only one. She’d seen the same fear in nearly everyone they passed in this city. It hadn’t been fear of them, the newly arrived strangers, either. This was a big city; strangers passing through were commonplace enough. What was going on? What could make ordinarily kind, generous people behave like this?
“Please, I’m begging you.”
Jarra wasn’t in the habit of begging anyone for anything, but she was desperate.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he told her flatly, though he seemed to regret saying it. “If you knew what was good for you, you would leave this city.”
She looked at him in askance, hoping that he would elaborate, but he said nothing more. He went back to wiping down the bar, doing his best to ignore her.
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Time to play the only card she had left in her hand.
“My friend is Gabrielle of Poteidaia. Xena’s Gabrielle.”
That got his attention. He looked up at her, the rag he was using to wipe down the bar forgotten in his grasp. His eyes were alight with-what was that? Hope.
“The Gabrielle?” he asked, wary and infinitely hopeful at the same time.
“If you don’t believe me, go outside and look for yourself. She’s lying unconscious in my companion’s arms.”
He looked around uncertainly.
“I’m sure she would be happy to help with whatever is wrong around here. But she can only do that if she is well.” She speared him with a piercing gaze. “Now, will you give us a room?”
He nodded.
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it.
She rushed out the door. Ezra still sat on the low porch, holding Gabrielle gently.
“Did you-?” he started to ask.
“Yeah,” she told him.
He let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank the gods,” he murmured, shifting Gabrielle in his arms and lifting her as gently as he could.
Quickly, Jarra gathered their saddlebags, slung Gabrielle’s pack over her shoulder, and led the way back inside. She held the door open for Ezra, who eased with extra care through the doorway, carrying their still unconscious friend.
She heard the innkeeper’s sharp intake of breath upon seeing Gabrielle. “It really is her!”
“Of course,” Jarra said softly. “I didn’t lie to you.”
With that she sensed that a measure of trust had been gained between them, something she intended to use later.
“If she’s here, then Xena-“
“Xena isn’t here,” Jarra interrupted sharply, her eyes hard. So, word hadn’t reached here yet.
The innkeeper took a step back, wiping his hands nervously on his trousers. “She’ll be meeting you later-“
“No, she won’t be,” she said curtly, not willing to say anything further.
His face fell considerably.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to show us to a room?” Jarra demanded, suddenly very irritated with the man. She inclined her head in Ezra’s direction. “I sincerely doubt he can hold her like that all day.”
He blinked, startled by her sudden anger. “Of-of course,” he stammered nervously, fumbling beneath the bar for the keys he needed to open their room. “R-right this way.” His eyes darted fearfully in her direction as he passed.
Irritation gone as quickly as it had come, Jarra regretted having been so short with the poor innkeeper. He was afraid of something, and the thought that Xena could’ve helped-yeah. And all she’d done was snap at him. Not too nice.
She didn’t have it in her to tell him the sad truth.
You won’t be getting any help from the warrior princess, she thought bitterly. She’s gone.
The innkeeper led them upstairs, out of the tavern and up to the second floor, where they made a right down a narrow hall. Boards creaked loudly underfoot as they shuffled along. They stopped in front of the last door at the end of the hall; the innkeeper inserted the correct key into the lock on the door and gave it a turn. It opened with a soft click and he moved to one side, gesturing them to enter.
Ezra went in first, carefully, grunting with the effort of holding Gabrielle’s unconscious weight. Jarra followed him.
“This is the best I can do for you,” the innkeeper was saying. “It’s the largest room I’ve got.”
Not that big, but there were two good-sized beds, a small hearth for a fire, and a small washroom beyond that. The place looked well used, but not at all run down like the outside. It was clean and warm, and that was all that mattered.
Jarra nodded her approval to the man. He flinched at her gaze, shrinking back from her, and again she felt bad for the way she’d treated him. The fear of backsliding into her hateful past seized her-it quickly lost its grip when she remembered Ares. Yes, he was going to help her get back what Xena’s death had robbed from her…
“Meals are included in the room price,” the innkeeper went on. “Breakfast one hour after sunrise, lunch at noon sharp, dinner at dusk.” His eyes skittered fearfully to Jarra’s. “If-if you need any thing just let me know.”
With that he hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.
She set their assorted bags and packs in an out-of-the-way spot on the floor, and turned to see Ezra easing Gabrielle onto the bed nearest the room’s solitary window. Together they removed her coat, boots, and gauntlets and got her under the covers.
Their friend was better, but not enough to ease their worry for her. It looked as though they would be staying here for more than just one night. There was no way that they could continue to Alexandria with Gabrielle the way she was.
* * *
Ezra dropped the tea packet into the kettle, which he hung back in place over the fire he’d made in the small hearth. He wondered for the billionth time that day if they were all really going to be okay.
All of them were feeling the strain of the enormous grief they shared; at the moment he and Jarra were being strained two-fold. Losing a friend as close to them as Xena had been was bad enough, but this thing with Gabrielle made it worse. They had lost Gabrielle that dawn after the attack. He knew that now. Some miracle had brought her back to them; nothing they did could have, and he wasn’t about to question it. He was so grateful to have her here, alive, that he could fall on his knees and weep. Without Gabrielle, he and Jarra would have nothing left; no friends, no family, nothing but each other. The worst part was that Gabrielle was still in a very precarious position. The next few hours would tell.
Health wasn’t the only thing about Gabrielle that worried him, either. He’d heard her thrashing about, caught in tortured nightmares every night since they’d left Amphipolis. What could be plaguing her so? Was it what Jarra had told him, about Gabrielle wanting to bring Xena back and the souls be damned? No. Gabrielle herself said that she had come to terms with that finally, if uneasily. But he had no doubt that events in Japan were still the source. He could feel how twisted up she still was inside-she was starting to let go, he could see that, but there was more, still festering. He saw that in Jarra as well. He feared for both women, one his dear friend and one his lover-it was torture, the way it wrapped up with his grief over Xena and weighed down his heart. The three of them being together-that gave him some hope. Hope was something he needed badly right now. They all did.
Whatever was wrong with this city, though, it was giving him the creeps, big time. They should get out before everything “went to Tartarus in an egg basket,” as Xena used to say. But what about the people here? They couldn’t just leave them if things were really as wrong as they were starting to feel…
Why did it have to be like this? Why did it have to be so damn hard? He was so tired of hurting, so tired of worrying about Jarra and Gabrielle. When would things be right, like they used to be when Xena was still alive?
He couldn’t think about it anymore. He didn’t dare. Not if he wanted to keep going.
“You can’t worry about the past, or what’s going to happen tomorrow,” Xena had told him once. “Take things one day at a time. Then suddenly you’ll wake up and realize that things are going right.”
That’s a piece of advice he would take right now.
You were a lot better at wisdom than you ever gave yourself credit for, Xena, he thought silently. Sometimes, remembering the things you’ve said is all that has gotten me through the day.
It’s said that the dead can hear you when you think about them or talk to them. He hoped that Xena, wherever she was, could hear him now.
He checked on the tea-almost done.
This wasn’t the first tragedy for him. He’d grown up happy in Britannia, a boy who adored and worshipped his parents. Then the fever had taken his mother and father. He’d made it through that somehow, going to live with his uncle. That was how he’d met Jarra-her father had been his uncle’s neighbor and one of his best friends. He remembered the first day he saw her (Gods, how could he forget?) running wild and free through the fields outside her father’s home. Beautiful. His huntress. He’d never seen a woman like her before. So untamed. A real Amazon. It was her differences that had so attracted him in the beginning. She’d been extremely wary of him at first, though she refused to show fear or weakness. He was a man-the enemy, in a manner of speaking, and not one that she knew and trusted like her father. With each visit he’d made with his uncle he had been able to draw her out more and more, gain her trust, and found that they had much in common. So a tentative friendship was forged, one that grew with each passing day until they were inseparable, best friends-and much more. He would never forget that magical Solstice Eve when he’d told her that he loved her, just like he would never forget how she’d broken his heart, running off after her father’s murderer without even saying goodbye. When he’d heard what she’d become, he’d gone off in search of her, hoping to pull her out of her grief-fueled spiral into death and destruction, because he loved her and he had to try and save her. He loved her that much. He did find her eventually, taking her far away to Egypt to make a new start. He’d managed to slow the downward spiral to a crawl; her violence and hatred had gone, but the guilt remained, still drawing her down. He could stop it, but not in time to save her. So they’d gone back to Greece, and Jarra had been about ready to give up. On everything. Even life. Because even though his love was healing her, the healing wasn’t happening fast enough to counter the guilt and regret eating away at her. That’s when Xena came along and changed everything. Xena saved her.
Now here they were, without Xena, their hearts hurting, Gabrielle injured and suffering still from what had transpired during her time in Japan, and Jarra hanging precipitously on the edge of another spiral from which there might be no rescue. Ezra? He was just trying to hold it together, for them if not for himself.
When her really thought about it, things weren’t as grim as they might seem at first glance. Gabrielle and Jarra, with each other’s help, had taken big positive steps already. Things were getting better. Slowly. That was the problem. Would they get better in time??? That was what was worrying him the most.
Right now he wasn’t going to worry about the future. He couldn’t afford to. None of them could.
Shaking off his fears, he turned his attention back to the tea, which had finally finished brewing.
“Ezra?” a voice called sleepily.
He turned. Gabrielle was awake and trying to sit up.
“Hey, Gabrielle.” His worry for her eased, like an unbearable weight being lifted, at seeing her awake. “How are you feeling?”
“Still tired,” she said, and he could plainly hear the exhaustion still in her voice, “but its getting better.” She gave him a warm smile, and for a moment he saw the bright, joyful Gabrielle that he remembered. He couldn’t help but smile warmly back.
Rising from his chair, he poured her a cup of fresh chilled water from a pitcher one of the innkeeper’s maids had brought earlier. Handing her the cup, he helped her to sit up while she drank.
Having taken her fill, she set the empty cup on the low table between the two beds. “Thank you,” she told him with another infectiously warm smile.
Still holding her with one arm, he slid spare pillows under her shoulders and head, propping her up comfortably. He noticed that she winced as he eased her down onto the pillows.
Frowning in concern, he asked, “How’re the ribs?”
“Still sore,” she answered tightly. “But I think by tomorrow I’ll be able to move around without much pain, if they continue to heal as fast as they have been. It doesn’t really hurt when I breathe anymore.”
It was all he could do not to let his mouth hang open in surprise. “How is that possible?”
“I can’t really explain it,” she said easily enough, but he knew she was keeping something from him. He didn’t press the issue; there was no need. So long as she was getting better. Curiosity about her unusually rapid recovery still nagged at him-he shook it off. If she did know the reason, he suspected that she wouldn’t tell him about it anyway.
“Tea?” he offered. “Just finished brewing.”
“Please.” Her eyes glinted in the firelight, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re going to spoil me, Ezra Lusk.”
His eyes twinkled mischievously, and he sketched her a graceful bow. “But of course, my Queen,” he jested, using her Amazon title. “You’ve earned it.”
She couldn’t argue with that.
Ezra poured the tea, a cup for each of them. To Gabrielle’s, he added a heaping spoonful of honey from a little pot he’d spirited from the kitchen downstairs.
“There you go, your majesty,” he said, grinning as he gave her the steaming cup and sat on the edge of her bed. “Just the way you like it.”
She smiled at him over the rim of her cup before taking a careful sip of the hot tea. Her eyes closed blissfully. “Mmm. Perfect.”
The warmth of the drink brought color to her cheeks, and Ezra thought that she actually looked halfway normal. The weight of his worry lifted a bit more.
Gabrielle sipped at her tea, looking around and really seeing her surroundings for the first time. Her brow creased. “Where’s Jarra?”
He stiffened. “I don’t know.”
She raised an eyebrow in question.
“She left a little while ago, don’t know where,” he explained. “She just said that she was going out and that she would be back in a while.”
“Where would she be going in the middle of the night?” Gabrielle wondered.
He shrugged. He didn’t have an answer. Jarra wouldn’t tell him anything when he’d asked where she was going. The weight settled back on him, becoming nearly unbearable once more.
Gabrielle’s frown deepened. The worry in her eyes mirrored his own. “She’s been doing this a lot lately.”
He nodded.
Her hand covered his in an instinctive gesture of reassurance. “Maybe she needs the time alone, to try and sort things out.”
He nodded his agreement. “I just worry, with all that’s happened. She’s been acting so strange since this afternoon-“
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. Just keep and eye on her.”
That made him feel better. Gabrielle always had that affect on him.
He took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Are you hungry at all?”
“Starving.”
Another good sign. In a blink he was up and had removed a container of broth that he’d kept warming over the fire. As he ladled it into a bowl for Gabrielle, he tried not to think about Jarra.
Chapter Four
“The only condition is that you make sure you use what I’m teaching you to kill them all.”
Ares was looking Jarra straight in the eye, unmoving, but she did not shrink from his formidable gaze. He wasn’t deceiving her, so far as she could tell, but he was the master of deception if he wanted to be. Gods, she was far from trusting him, but what choice did she have? If he could make her whole again…
She was an Amazon who’d left her tribe in search of her father and herself. Finding the father she’d come to know and love murdered had spun her into a life of murder and destruction. The man she loved, Ezra, had found her and turned her away from all that, turned her back to the good that was always inside her. But it was Xena who had saved her, and, she realized, Xena who had been holding her up all this time. And here she was, in a pact with Ares that could jeopardize it all. Why was she risking all that she had worked for? Because, without Xena, she felt she was already starting to slip. Losing Xena had weakened the very foundation of her recovery, ongoing to this day. She felt like she might be close to falling again, and Ares had promised to make her what she had been before all this. He was going to help her where others couldn’t, give her back her strength. She wanted it so desperately that she could weep just at the thought, and felt panicked when she thought about what would happen to her if she couldn’t get it back in time.
“Swear it.” The urgent demand in his suddenly deadly soft voice startled her. It snapped her back to the moment, and she blinked, looking past him to see the throne room of wherever this place was that he kept taking her when they met.
As good a job as he was doing of hiding it, Jarra had the gift of being able to read people, gods or otherwise, and she saw the desperation in him. Why did he want so badly for the lamia to be killed? What did it matter to him? Ares wasn’t known for caring. It must have something to do with what was in it for him. Then why didn’t he do it himself? He certainly had the power…unless he couldn’t.
“I swear,” she heard herself say before she realized what she was doing.
Ares’ lips curved in a cold semblance of a smile. “Shall we begin?”
Jarra forced herself to nod, fighting the sudden feeling that she was in over her head and it was too late to claw her way out of the pit she’d dug for herself by making this pact.
I have to go through with this, she reminded herself. Ares is going to help me do what I can’t do on my own…
Hadn’t she already convinced herself that this was the right thing to do, and more than that, what she had to do?
Dealing with Ares is never the right thing to do, an inner voice admonished. Silently she told it to shut up.
Ares was going to teach her how to kill the lamia; surely that was worth the risk. Because she was starting to think that lamia encounter in the woods was not an isolated incident. The lamia could be what was wrong in this city. Why wouldn’t anyone say so? Why were they so afraid to ask for help?
It didn’t matter. She was going to learn how to kill these lamia, and free this city from their terror, if indeed that was what was going on here. Either way, she would know how to take them out if they ever attacked her or her companions again.
What does Ares really want with me?
She refused to think about that, flat-out ignoring the warnings her subconscious was shouting at her.
She took a deep breath. Stilled her mind. “I’m ready.”
* * *
Elsewhere in the city under the cloak of the night’s darkness, a young man strode down the street, the beautiful woman on his arm guiding him toward an alley up ahead of them.
“Where are we going?” he asked her as they entered the alleyway.
“Doma,” she answered casually.
He froze in his tracks. He recognized the torch-lit entrance at the end of the alley now. Doma-Sapai’s most exclusive club, usually reserved for the city’s most elite socialites and beautiful people. “Doma,” he uttered increadulously. “But we’ll never get in there!”
Her arms twined around his neck and she lifted up in tiptoe to kiss him deeply. “Don’t worry,” she assured in a seductive purr. “We’ll get in.”
She sauntered up to the doorway with him closely in tow. A quick rap on the door and a peephole slid open revealing a set of eyes. Was he just imagining it, or were those eyes red? Surely he was seeing things.
She spoke rapidly to the doorman in a low voice. He couldn’t make out just what it was she said, but whatever it was, it had gotten the doorman to open the door and usher them inside. His mouth dropped open first in disbelief, then in surprise. Disbelief of the fact that they were actually being admitted, surprise at the sheer size of the man guarding the door.
Tall enough to tower over most anyone, with arms and legs thick as tree trunks, and enough muscle for ten men, his vicious red eyes twinkled menacingly with restrained violence.
I think I’ve had too much to drink. His eyes can’t really be red. Not possible.
His attention went back to the beautiful woman before him. She was beckoning for him to follow her inside. One look at her and the strange eyes were forgotten. Gods he was lucky to be with her. Not only was she stunningly gorgeous with her dark hair and endlessly dark eyes and delicate curves, but she had just gotten him into the most exclusive club in Sapai. He grinned as he hurried after her. Lucky indeed.
It was a short walk down the entry hall before they emerged into the sea of bodies crowding the club. The sound of flutes drifted sensually to the wild rhythm of drums and other various percussion. The sound of such music – it was intoxicating to him, and apparently to everyone else. Half dressed male and female bodies writhed in sinful abandon to the erotic tune the musicians played.
Whoa. It was the most articulate thought he could muster at the sight.
Then the woman had her hand in his, leading him onto the dance floor, into the heart of the crowd. Her eyes burned with desire, with hunger, for him. For him.
A chill ran down his spine – almost everyone around him was looking at him with that same hunger. But then she kissed him, and his fear was quickly forgotten. Together they danced, letting themselves be swept away by the music, letting its rhythm and spirit move them.
When the song ended a roar went up from the crowd. His “girlfriend” threw her head back in an exultant cry, loudly joining in the elated cheering.
By the gods she was gorgeous. Anything she wanted of him he would give without hesitation. He couldn’t say no to her any more than he could stop the world from turning
The music started again, different this time. The flute melody was sharp, more insistent, the rapid, throbbing drumbeat driving the music to fever pitch. She kissed him again and he became lost in the moment, feeling her move against him in a mimicry of the most primal dance of all, their tongues mingling as she held him tightly.
Faster and more insistent the music became, reckless and out of control, pushing them higher. It was building up to something , he could feel it, and when the music was at its wildest and he felt the moment upon them – that was when everything went horribly, horribly wrong.
He opened his eyes to look at her, and she had changed. Those eyes were not human. His all-at-once shocked and terrified expression made her smile, revealing razor-sharp fangs that hadn’t been there seconds before.
Fear surged inside of him and he tried to break free of her. With inhuman strength she pulled him to her, crushing his ribs with her embrace, her fangs sinking deep into his neck. He let out a gurgling scream, his body paralyzed by pain and sudden weakness as he felt his life being drained away. Around him, all he could see was the flash of fangs, those cold, inhuman eyes, and other victims screaming and dying just as he was.
If only he had never met her. If only he had never followed her here. But it was too late. The monsters weren’t supposed to be real…
The music built to its final crescendo, each and every victim breathing their last in that moment. And when the last note sounded their bloodstained murderers cast them to the floor like so much garbage, sated. For now…
* * *
Several hours had passed since nightfall before Jarra returned to the inn. She walked briskly up the front steps, her footfalls soft but determined. She knew the secrets now. She could kill the lamia. All of them.
Still, Ares had more to teach her, and she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of more lessons, not if all of them would make her feel this way. Her blood was still singing with the thrill of the encounter. The things he had shown her, the way that she learned to move and strike under his tutilage – for the first time since Xena’s death she felt truly alive, super-aware, strong. She felt like herself again, and more. The taste of power he had given her still coursed through her veins, heady in its intensity and promise. The promise of recapturing her former glory. The fire in her blood burned hotter than ever before under his guidance, pure, raw, all-consuming and all-powerful. She was drunk with the ardor that was inflamed in her.
Already it was fading, leaving her cold. She wanted more. This was what she needed – she could get it from the god of war.
Patience, she reminded herself. The next lesson would come soon enough, when Ares deemed she was ready for the next step.
What was it he had said? Fighting wasn’t just about physical prowess. It was also about using mind and emotion to drive yourself harder, faster, to be stronger. He would show her the way.
She moved swiftly through the inn’s downstairs tavern, which was fairly empty for this early in the evening, a reminder that things were wrong, incentive to find out what it was and put it right. Up the stairs and down the hall she went, making almost no sound at all.
That’s when the innkeeper rounded a corner and carelessly plowed into her. They collided with a mutual oof, and he stumbled back. Suddenly she was angry, very angry with the pathetic little man for getting in her way. She stared at him witheringly, emitting a low growl from her throat. He turned white and scuttled away in fear, away and out of her sight.
Good.
Her anger, what she’d just done, finally registered an instant later, stopping her mid-step. Fine if she had been irritated, or even snapped a little, considering the stress she was under of late. But this – so angry, even cruel, and ready to squash that poor man. Where had the anger come from? It had been an accident, no more his fault than hers. For an instant she had become a person she didn’t know. The first time she snapped at the man, after they first arrived – even that had just been irritation, and maybe a little anger, because he’d pushed her about Xena, an extremely sensitive subject. She’d gotten mad because she didn’t want to talk about it. This time she had just been…angry.
A recent and all too familiar fear came to her. She was slipping again, wasn’t she? Back into the monster that she was doomed to be without Xena to help her. She needed Ares, he was the only way. He’d promised to make her what she had been before… He had been able to give her a taste of that renewed strength. He was the only way, dangerous or not.
The guilt hit her again. Keeping this from Gabrielle – it was breaking a sacred trust, the trust between queen and champion, what she had bec