Disclaimer: I/We own no part of Xena: Warrior Princess. No infringement of copyright is contemplated or intended. (No resemblance to anyone living, dead or undead is intended either).

Note: A previous version of this story appeared at The Royal Academy of Bards.

The Edge of The Blade.

Prologue

Helios was almost to the land of Hesperides when horse and rider appeared at the head of the narrow hidden valley which had been cut into the high hills running up the spine of the peninsula. Pausing to allow her mount to blow for a moment after the steep climb from the forested land which coated the slope behind her, Xena took in the scene as she extended her senses for anything inimical to her presence.

The once vertical cliff to her left had collapsed, perhaps due to an earthquake; which, whilst not rare in this region were not common. The resultant fan of earth and boulders had been further eroded over the seasons and now the slope was covered in vegetation consisting of grasses and a few hardy bushes. The waters from the small spring about halfway up had formed a pair of pools, the topmost fairly small and emptying over an edge to a more substantial one below. This lower pool, maybe five or six paces across, was itself emptied by means of a small stream which headed away down the verdant little valley. The small deer which had come to drink of the waters as the day was ending lifted her muzzle and regarded the intruders quietly, before moving off into the trees which covered the more gentle hillside to her right.

Tensing the muscles of her legs in an attempt to ease the tiredness which was winning the battle against her will to continue the journey, Xena acknowledged at last that they could both use some rest.

Easing the horse towards the water with a firm pressure of a thigh, she climbed stiffly down from the saddle, clinging momentarily to the pommel as her legs grew used to carrying her weight again. Placing her hands in the small of her back she stretched her spine, trying to ignore the feel of her cuts and bruises; the pain which was trying to make her curl around the ache in her chest. She let Argo drink for a moment, and, not wanting to give her enough time to take too much after the recent exertion, took up the reins once more and led her over to a clear piece of ground where she could roll and shake out her kinks after Xena removed her saddle and blanket.

Moving back from the water, she chose a spot between a large boulder and a fallen tree and set out her gear for the night, digging out a small firepit, and preparing a meal from the meager remains of her supplies...

Her repast complete, she sat quietly for a moment enjoying the friendly crackle of the flames before banking the small fire, and, taking her waterskins moved back to the water and filled them both from the upper pool.

Setting the containers aside, she stripped off her battered armor and removed the stained and torn shift before stepping into the lower pool with a hiss of shock at the cold; the water coming up to the top of her thighs. She ducked under, submerging her whole body for a moment; running her fingers through her long raven locks as they flowed towards the edge of the pool in the current created by the exiting stream... Standing once more, she gathered her hair into a rope and with a quick twist removed the excess water, tying it into a knot on top of her head. Reaching for the soap she had placed on a rock at the side of the pool she began scrubbing her body vigorously, ignoring the stain of red which began to appear in the bubbles generated.

When she was satisfied at last that she had removed all the accumulated sweat and dirt of the day, she once more ducked under the surface; letting her natural buoyancy assert itself and drift her body in the current towards the side of the pool...

Her ablution complete, she exited the water, moving back to her small campsite, where, settling down on the rough blanket she had laid on the ground, she pulled her small healing pouch out of her saddlebags and began to check her wounds.

The stitches in her thigh had held and the wound seemed to be healing well, without any redness of infection. She did not know where her ability to heal quickly came from, but she was grateful for the fact that it was there; even if it didn't seem to affect the lesser non-life threatening cuts she had accumulated over the years since she had left home. The stitch she had used to close the cut on the inside slope of her right breast had come out sometime during the day and the wound was slowly seeping fresh blood. The flesh had torn and there was no way she would be able to close the gash with another stitch, so all she could do was keep the wound free of dirt and let it heal as it could. It would just add another scar to her collection.

The lump on her head had diminished somewhat and was no longer tender to the touch, so she figured she could leave well enough alone; the other scrapes and bruises would disappear within the next handful of days. There was nothing she could do about the wounds on her back except keep them as clean as possible, and rely on her natural healing abilities to keep any infection at bay until she could find a healer she could trust.

Her shift was beyond repair now so she took the spare out of the saddlebags, and, moving over to the mare led her once more to water before staking her out on a fresh patch of vegetation. Checking her hooves for any stones she may have picked up in the days travails, she used the rag to give the horse a quick rubdown before leaving her to get through the night on her own.

Continuing her camp chores she finished by breaking branches from the dead tree beside her and scattered them in a circle round her chosen spot; they should give her some warning of anyone or anything approaching. Laying down and pulling her cloak over her exhausted body she listened carefully to the sounds of the night as it slowly settled over the small glen, and, satisfied that any change in the rythym of the nightlife around her would bring her to instant readiness, laid the hilt of her sword to hand and gave herself over to the Realm of Morpheus.

oOOo

The ambient temperature having dropped to the dew point just before dawn, a fine mist had arisen to cling to the vegetation in the small valley, and Xena lay awake listening to the silence, her senses extending around her...

Detecting nothing which could be considered ill-disposed to her company, she sat up. Tossing back the cloak she gave a "Brrrr" at the sudden cold, rubbing her arms briskly and quickly moved to the fire. Adding some twigs to the coals still glowing within the ash, she blew softly until they caught aflame, adding even more substantial bits of wood until she had a nice fire burning. Pouring some water into a small bowl, she added some leaves to steep and placed it by the side of the fire, then moved behind the rock to complete her toilet.

Happy at last that she seemed to have stopped passing any blood, she sipped slowly at her tea. As the warmth of the infusion settled in her stomach she took the moment to enjoy breathing deep, aware that the bands of pain arond her ribs was less this morning.

Gathering her leather armor to herself, she went over the stitching carefully, making sure that her recent repairs would hold and that the new strap which would go over her left shoulder had not come loose again. The wooden scabbard she had carved to fit her sword like a glove had taken a hard blow during her recent difficulties, and the oiled cloth she'd used for waterproofing was torn and ragged. She could do nothing about it now, but it was one of her first priorities for the immediate future.

Picking up her sword itself, she ran her eye along the edge. Satisfied that she'd caught all the nicks with her stone last night, she rose to her feet and moved to a flat piece of ground before beginning a series of excercises.

Placing her feet a shoulders width apart, she centered herself and began slowly, building up her speed in carefully controlled increments as she explored her range of movement; the blade moving from hand to hand, faster and faster to weave a shield of steel around her body. Bending and twisting her upper torso, she slowly began to move her feet and legs as well; exploring ever more complicated forms. From a standing position, she suddenly jumped up into the air, twisted over her own center and kicked out her right leg to connect with an imaginary foe's head.

As her feet came back into contact with the ground, she felt a sharp stab of pain lance up from the wound in her left thigh. Holding her sword loosely in her right hand, she used her left to massage away the sudden pain. "Ow! Okay, note to self - be more careful." At a soft wicker from her mount, she looked over and answered back, "No need for you to laugh at me as well, thank-you." The mare tossed her head.

Moving slowly over to the fire, she forced herself to put weight on her ankle, ignoring the tightness that wanted her to limp.

Lowering herself to the blanket she continued the massage, and as the pain ebbed to a dull ache, she made a decision. "Argo, I think we should rest up for another day, what do you say?" At the snort she received in reply, "Agreed then, I can do a little hunting and you can laze about until tomorrow."

oOOo

Xena, ignoring the burnt bits, finished eating the remainder of last night's rabbit with some berries that she had found, and began clearing up her temporary campsite.

Moving over to Argo, waiting patiently, saddled and ready, she hooked the waterskins over the pommel and mounted with ease. Taking one last look around the small dell, she spoke softly, "Let's go, girl."

oOOOOo

The waters were cold with snowmelt from the mountains to the north, and, feeling her way with her bare feet over the rocks and silt which made up the ford, Xena made sure of her footing before commiting herself to the step forwards. The flow of water was deceptively smooth and she kept both hands on the body-length branch that she had trimmed from a tree on the bank behind her. Leaning into the staff, which she kept on the upstream side of her, ready to fend off any debris brought down on the waters, she slowly led Argo by the reins tied loosely to her left arm. As they both scrambled up the bank on the far side, she gave a breath of relief at the relatively easy crossing.

She had spotted the suggestion of a shadow in the river from the tree lined slope opposite, and, deciding to take a chance, had moved down to the water. Now as she re-tied her boots, which had lain across Argo's saddle during the crossing, she thought about her route.

The path she had taken over the spine of the peninsula had saved her a good 60-leagues of travel, and she'd used the time well to rest and recuperate some of their strength, but now she had to decide which way to go.

Heading south would take her out of her way again, and heading north along the bank of the river would just take her into a maze of bluffs and canyons where she wouldn't want to get trapped. There were the barely visible signs of a trail heading up and over the shoulder of the hill behind her, so, climbing back into the saddle, she urged Argo up the slope.

Pausing just below the crest of the trail, she swung out of the saddle once more and moved forward on foot, leaving Argo to lip at some grasses at the side of the path...

The suggestion of a route round the hill and down into a series of valleys to the east seemed seldom used; new vegetation covering it in places and the trees which covered the slopes of the hills totally obscuring it for large tracts of land. Only by imagining the route she would have taken herself could she intuit the missing signs of use.

Whistling softly to her companion, she moved round the shoulder of the hill, and, wanting to skyline herself as little as possible, she swiftly headed down the slope and into the first wave of pine trees which welcomed her into their cool embrace. The sharp scent of new growth tickled her nose as she waited in the shade provided by the overreaching branches; extending her senses outward, listening to the few birds calling, the occasional rustle as a squirrel moved through the branches overhead. All seemed quiet; no alarm calls sounding.

At the sound of needles underneath weight, the soft creak of leather behind her, she asked softly, "What took ya?" The huff of warmth at her neck, the tug of her braid with rather large teeth was the only reply. "Hey! Stop that!" With the caress of a warm ear and a pat on the neck, she mounted once more and moved off down through the trees.

oOOo

Following the contours, she rode along the trail, steadily making her way east and now slightly north; at ease in the saddle her body adjusting automatically to the subtle shift of Argo's gait as she moved over the terrain. With a possible destination in mind but with no particular timeframe to hold to, she was moving through the landscape with a lack of tension she had not experienced in a long time; enjoying the lack of pressure, the sensation of being responsible only for herself and her horse... She could not know all that the future would hold, but she was determined that this sometimes invisible path she and Argo were travelling would lead to a different destination than any she could have predicted even a moon ago...

oOoOo

Continued...