'Gabrielle's Danger'
By
Phineas Redux
Description:— The Amazon Queen finds herself in a tight spot with only her own wits and expertise to help her.
Disclaimer:— MCA/Universal/RenPics own all copyrights to everything related to 'Xena: Warrior Princess' and I have no rights to them.
-O-
The blood splashed on the wall in a jagged red line, some ricocheting back to hit the Amazon's cheek in warm drops—but at least that was one less bandit to think about.
Gabrielle stepped sideways, nearer the centre of the room where there was more space. The old abandoned, and now virtually tumble-down, building had seemed—the night before—like a prayer answered when she had ridden up to it in the dark on the edge of the thick extensive forest. Although the roof had fallen in on the west wing, the main building and the east wing were still habitable; if you called a two-storey house, with all the windows lacking their shutters, such. Gabrielle had wasted no time in sheltering her pony in the still useable stable at the rear of the building; which, she surmised, must at one time have been an Inn. Then she had explored the interior of the ruin, till she found a room on the upper floor which was in better shape than the rest. This she took as her bedroom for the night. She laid out her blankets, rolled herself up in them, and gave herself over to dreams of a black-haired tall warrior woman who, at the present moment, had been forced—against both their wishes—to go on a mission to the North of Kerkini without her.
Only a couple of hours later she had woken like a flash, because of her now well-imbued Amazon qualities; which, Xena had taken to laughingly deploring, would soon put the tall dark warrior out of a job. Anyway, the blonde short-haired warrior woke instantly, with the knowledge that at least three, possibly more, men were quietly moving about on the ground floor beneath her. She could even, listening intently, hear low mutterings at intervals. It was apparent at once these men were not passing farmers or country-folk, but thieves or worse, out to discover the owner of the pony they had obviously found outside in the stable. And Gabrielle could imagine why they wanted to surprise their victim, without bawled shouts of welcome from one set of seemingly innocent travellers to another; they would have their thoughts fixed on altogether other ideas than saying hallo.
Wasting no time, but moving with the silent smoothness of a ghost, she cleared her blankets; took one of her sai from the holding-strap on her left boot; and slithered across to her saddle-bag where she had laid the short, but viciously sharp, gladius Xena had insisted she wear at all times while they were parted from each other. Another moment and the highly trained Amazon stood on the dry old planks of the floor; ready for any eventuality, listening to the movements coming up from below.
Her sharp ears could follow the progress of the group of unseen bandits as if the sun was shining outside from a clear sky; her Amazon training coming to the fore in this situation. She realised there were five, perhaps six, men; all spreading out singly to explore the dark interior of the abandoned Inn. There were several rooms, of various sizes, on the ground level and Gabrielle stood motionless listening intently to keep track of their meanderings. Then what she had been expecting came to pass, two of the intruders reached the main staircase and, with infinite delicacy and care, began to climb the creaking stairs. In only a few moments she would have to make herself known and engage the enemy. The only question was how much, or how little, chance should she give them to explain themselves?
Then the door of her room slowly slid open and a thick-set draggle-haired ruffian holding a long-bladed sword before him entered. On seeing his prize it became obvious what his, and his compatriots, combined intentions consisted of. He twisted his unwashed neck round and bawled into the dark corridor behind him to his accompanying partner.
"Ho Drosius, we got us a very nice piece here." Gabrielle, from well over a body's length away, could see his lips actually drooling. "Tell the others, then come an' get it. OK, girl, are you gon'na take 'em off; or do I get t'enjoy myself. One false move an' I'll slit yer from belly t'brain. An', fer Gods' sakes, put that silly sword down; what fer d'ye wan'na make me an' my pals angry? Come on, off with 'em, I'm gettin' impatient."
With this, not awaiting the appearance of his friends, he shifted his own sword to his left hand, and with his right began to unbuckle his wide leather belt. Having now full excuse, and feeling no mercy for the brazen thick-headed oaf—who had probably, with his evil mates performed this sort of thing many times before in his slimy history—Gabrielle shot across the room, lifted her sai to head height before the astonished thug had any time to react, and slashed it across his undefended neck.
The man gave a horrified yell, followed by a series of coughing gurgles as blood splashed freely in all directions from the gaping wound. He then staggered out into the corridor, where Gabrielle could hear his grunting movements as he struggled towards the staircase; then the thump and crash as he fell down the long flight. In an instant several loud angry shouts came from below as the thieves took stock of this incredible and unexpected climax to their expedition.
"Drosius, get the bitch." This cry, in a deep angry growl, came from below. "She's gone an' done fer Bassus. Get her."
Gabrielle stood for the space of two breaths, then sprang into action. No-one was attempting to re-enter the room, as the unfortunate Bassus had done, but she well knew his companion would be waiting silently out in the corridor for her to appear there. She did indeed fulfill his wish, but not in the way he required and hoped. Crouching low she swept through the door into the corridor, moving to her left-hand, where she instinctively knew he was waiting in the dark. She had also made a lightning evaluation as to the man's probable plan of action; so now jumped forward, across the dusty floorboards, about two body's-lengths along the corridor. Here she rose to her full height and, though still blind in the dark, sliced her sword-blade forwards in a powerful thrust. The grunt of pain, followed by a loud scream of agony, showed the success of her action. Pausing only to pull her blade free, with some difficulty, she ran past the bulk of the defeated thief and reached the head of the stair.
Here, however, luck was against her continued escape. The body of the first unfortunate thief lay spread-eagled halfway down the flight. At the bottom on the ground floor, outlined by the weak beams of a three-quarter moon, Gabrielle saw no less than three silhouettes standing in a group. At this juncture she remembered Xena's instructions in just such a case; never give them time to think, jump in amongst them, deal havoc and bloodshed left and right without reserve, and run for the exit like a rabbit with a dog on its tail.
Giving the men at the foot of the stairs no slightest instant to collect their thoughts Gabrielle leaned against the still solid handrail of the stair, lifted her booted feet from the floor, and slid at a remarkable speed down past the dead thief to the bottom, where she let go the rail and cannoned into the nearest man with immense impetus. He fell back, against the second of his mates; while Gabrielle, lithe as an antelope, swiveled in mid-air and landed on her feet, running without a break across the wide entrance hall of the Inn. Here she met the third thief of the group.
He was, from what she could make out in the dark shadows, tall and heavily built—a situation always to the benefit of the defendant, as Xena never failed of explaining. Now Gabrielle ducked under the man's sword-thrust, stabbed him in the knee with her sai till one of the side-prongs—themselves sharp as needles—entered his flesh too; then rose to slice her sword across the man's belly, cutting a swathe through his linen shirt and short leather jerkin as if each were made of spider's gossamer. By a swift onward movement she managed to avoid the resulting wash of blood and entrails in which this attack necessarily resulted, heading for the open entrance; but here too her escape was again brought to a halt as two more thugs appeared from the far side of the room, intercepting her line to the door.
Gabrielle realised that she was now facing at least four opponents; the two remaining behind her, and these two new recruits; both of whom would, she fervently hoped, soon be amongst Hades' newest customers. With Xena's lessons ringing in her ears—keep surprise on her side as long as possible, and don't let them relax for long enough to form some defensive counter-plan—Gabrielle jumped into the face of the nearest oncoming thief, a relatively smaller man than the rest of gang. She feinted towards him with her sword two or three times, blade at face height; he naturally halted and stepped back a pace, which allowed the coldly-acting Amazon that briefest of moments to whirl in close, sai and sword flailing in silvery circles, giving her attacker no chance to decide what exactly her purpose was. In this hesitant reaction the thief signed his own death-warrant; Gabrielle leaned forward, threw her sai-holding left hand wide to keep her balance, and stabbed mercilessly at the man's chest with the point of her gladius. The blade sank in deeply, through cracking bone and ripping flesh, before Gabrielle leaned backward, pulling it free once more. Hearing only the quietest of sighs from her already collapsing victim, Gabrielle took no time to examine her work of cold execution further but whipped round just in time to face the first of those who had been behind her.
This man, in his hurry to avenge his mates, made that rankest of errors in a sword-fighting battle—he came on with upheld weapon, roaring fiercely at his intended victim; always a quick way to find yourself standing before Hades himself, trying desperately to think of a good deferential hallo-remark. Gabrielle—again well-taught by the best teacher of such things in Greece—took this in her stride. She ignored the loud bellowings, as being no way relevant to the situation, and instead paused just for that instant long enough for him to reach beyond his defensive capability. Even as the heavily-muscled man began to realise that somehow he had made a ghastly mistake, Gabrielle's sai was hilt-deep in his right cheek—the blade appearing through his left cheek, making his face look like a skewered hunk of beef on a roasting pan; while her sword, almost simply by its own volition and the idiot attacker's unstoppable impetus, slid into his belly like a hot knife through butter. Gabrielle leaned forward, putting all her weight on the man's bulk as she used this to help her tear her weapons free again. Then she jumped agilely to the side away from the scene of carnage. Two to go.
One of these last pair of bandits was nearly on her, nonetheless, from her left-hand side; but she was still moving with all the grace and swiftness of an Amazon who knew exactly what her opponents were made of; and what needed to be done as a result. She crouched down low, skirt edges nearly touching the floor, and swung her right leg out horizontally, whirling round in a circle so that her outstretched leg acted like the revolving blade of a saw or slicing sword.—just as Xena had taught her over the course of many long afternoons. The man's legs shot out from under him and he measured his length on the floor; unfortunately for him, right beside Gabrielle. Unflinchingly, and with no sense of mercy against this single aspect of a greater danger, she lay full-length on the dusty dirty floor and, with one powerful thrust, sank her sword-blade into the man's side, nearly to the hilt between his ribs.
This time she knew there was no time to retrieve her sword so, with a half-backward flip Xena had spent many hours teaching her, she jumped to her feet, sai extended in her left hand. This was just enough of a defensive measure to make the last attacker hold back from the advance he had been making while the Amazon was otherwise engaged. The man, long dark hair straggling over his shoulders and the greasy dirty jerkin he wore, slid sideways, as if now wishing to take the blonde Harpy in the rear; but she never allowed him the time or chance. Gabrielle crouched with sai in hand, sneering at her opponent, then with no further warning jumped in close. The man, attempting in the only way he knew to defend himself, raised his sword high; Gabrielle threw her arm out and sank her sai into his chest, then darted away. Taking the initiative, while the man staggered around heavily in the near-dark trying to feel how seriously he had been wounded, Gabrielle ran to the inert form of her last attacker, retrieved her sword with a heaving grunting wrench, and turned to face the still-standing brigand again. His sword was hanging half-limply, as if he faintly understood he had received a mortal wound; but Gabrielle gave him no time to ponder on the subject. She darted forward, lips wide in a cold snarl, and skewered the man straight through his chest; blade going in so deeply she knew its point must be protruding on the farther side of his back. The man gave the Amazon standing beside him a single astonished glance, then fell backwards, his fall letting the sword slide free naturally; he hitting the dirty floor with a heavy thud.
A silence descended on the empty ruined Inn; but not the silence of former hours, that of a merely empty house. This silence was that of the cold harsh emptiness of sound on a wide battlefield just after victory had been attained by the winning side, leaving the dead and wounded to moan for help. Only in this instance there were no wounded crying for water; but a group of motionless still bodies which, a mere half a clepsydra before had been living breathing men. Gabrielle had won.
Dawn was colouring the far horizon, over the dark swathe of the surrounding trees, as Gabrielle led her pony to the Inn's front entrance; the interior of the building still dark, hiding its secrets.
"How many was it?" The blonde Amazon murmured to herself, as she finished tying her saddle-bags and blankets back on the pony's back and climbed into the saddle. "Five? Six? Wonder what Xena'll say? But, by all the Gods', they deserved it; after all, they were just a bunch o'filthy vicious bandits. No loss t'the world. Oh Aphrodite, why do I feel so sad? Xena, I need you so much."
The frail slight figure, on the small pony, wended her way across to the barely visible track leading past the old building and, with a single last glance back at the scene of the fight, was soon lost to view amongst the encroaching trees.
The End.
—O—