* ~ * ~ *
When Phaleron arrived, fetched by a guard at Xena's request, he did not seem particularly saddened -- or surprised -- to see Alcibiades dead.
"He was a brave warrior." The priest of Ares shook his head. "But he was rash."
"I didn't want to kill him," Xena said pensively, more to herself than to Phaleron. He glanced at her, his dark eyes momentarily animated.
"When Alcibiades would not cede the army to you, he defied the will of Ares. You did the right thing."
There was clearly no point in arguing with that.
"Would you make arrangements for the funeral?" she asked wearily, before remembering that she was now in a position to issue orders.
"I shall, my lady." He bowed his head.
When the two soldiers who had come in with the warrior priest had picked up Alcibiades' body and taken it away, Phaleron turned to Xena and asked, "Will you be staying here in this tent?"
Stay in this tent, where she could still smell her dead adversary's blood ... sleep on the bedding where he had reclined less than an hour ago? There was a time when she would not have flinched at the suggestion... Xena felt slight nausea rise to her throat, and then she had another feeling, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable one -- a tug of fear that she might have gotten into something she wouldn't be able to handle.
"No," she said quietly.
"Very well," said Phaleron. "I shall have the men put up a new tent for you, though I'm afraid that, on such short notice, it may have to be much too modest."
"That doesn't matter. I won't be staying at camp tonight anyway. "
Phaleron gave her a visibly disapproving look.
"My lady -- ?"
"I'm going back to my lodgings in town," she said. "There's something I need to do." Break Gabrielle's heart.
"All right, but you should ride with an escort -- "
"No," Xena said, turning her icy glare on him. "I'll take care of this on my own, Phaleron."
"As you wish." There was an irritating hint of displeasure in his outwardly deferential tone. It was too much -- too soon.
"Phaleron," she said in a silky voice that bode ill for its recipient. "Remember one thing."
He looked at her expectantly.
"I may serve Ares at the moment, but that doesn't mean I take orders from his priest."
The smugness in the priest's face changed to shock, then deliberate incomprehension, and then sullen resentment.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my lady. I am at your command."
"Good." She gave him a bright smile. "Then we understand each other. Have that other tent ready when I'm back."
Xena headed toward the exit, and nearly collided with the guard who was lifting the flap of the tent. He blinked at her, a bit dazed, obviously still taking in the news of the change in command.
"My lady -- sorry to disturb you, but there's a young woman who says she has to see you..."
No.
The soldier gave her a curious if nervous look; something of the turmoil she felt must have shown in her face.
"Let her in," she said steadily. "And leave us alone." She glanced at Phaleron to make sure that he knew the last part applied to him, too.
"My lady." Phaleron bowed his head and followed the soldier outside.
Gabrielle walked into the tent.
She stopped. Most of her remained in the shadows, except where the light from an oil lamp fell on a part of her face, making it glow in a golden haze.
"Xena..." she breathed out.
"Gabrielle..."
Suddenly, the bard's voice was strong and almost harsh.
"When were you going to tell me?"
Xena chuckled ruefully.
"I was headed back to the inn just now."
She wasn't sure if the glitter in Gabrielle's eyes was from the shimmering light or from unshed tears.
"Xena ... why?"
"I've thought about it. I think it's the right thing to do."
I know you'll always do the right thing, Xena... Unbidden, those words echoed in her mind -- the words Gabrielle had said to her the morning she went off to her first fight with Alcibiades.
"Leading Ares' army?"
"Against the Roman Empire." There was a catch in her voice that she hoped Gabrielle would take for excitement. "It's a chance to do something for Greece."
"And for the greater good?"
Xena was startled by her bitter, almost caustic tone.
"Yes."
"Are you sure it doesn't have anything to do with this?"
Stepping forward into the light, Gabrielle raised her hand. She was holding a parchment.
"It's a message from Cyane. Delivered this evening, after you had left. Do I need to tell you what it says?"
Xena slowly shook her head.
"Alcibiades..."
"You knew that if he went after the Amazons, I'd have to get involved." She met Xena's mute gaze. "Xena, you can't keep protecting me forever."
"You sound like Eve," Xena blurted out -- and almost gasped as another realization came over her. "I was never able to protect either of you, was I ..."
"Why does it all have to be your responsibility?" Gabrielle said softly. It was almost easier to deal with her bitterness than with this agonized tenderness. "You know you've always done everything for Eve that you could possibly do. As for me ... I don't need your protection, not anymore."
"Oh, Gabrielle." Xena walked slowly toward her. "It's not because I doubt you as a warrior. Remember what you said -- with each battle..."
"I lose more of myself," Gabrielle finished in a near-whisper.
"I just don't want to see that happen again.... not if there's something I can do about it."
For a few moments they faced each other silently. Then, Gabrielle said, "Xena, when you started -- when you first got together with him -- you told me you weren't going to join him or serve him."
"I'm not serving him. I'm leading an army for him in one campaign and that's it. I promise you." She reached out and squeezed the bard's hand.
"Xena ..." Gabrielle's mouth quivered. "All those times when Ares tried to turn you back into what you used to be..."
"You actually think he's still trying to do that?"
"Maybe not. But once you're with him as his warrior ... with all that power ... are you sure you can handle it?" She looked down, struggling to get the words out. "I've helped you pull back from the darkness before. I'm not sure I can do it now."
Gently, Xena touched Gabrielle's chin and lifted her face.
"You don't need to protect me. Not anymore."
"I couldn't stand it if you lost yourself for me," said Gabrielle.
Xena took a step back and folded her arms. Her eyes were stinging, and it was much too stuffy in the tent.
"I'll be fine," she said. "Like it or not, what's done is done. I knew the terms when I challenged Alcibiades. It's too late to back off."
"There's always a way out, Xena. I've learned that from you."
"And we're going to be okay. Just trust me. Please?"
The bard sighed.
"If this is what you have to do, then my place is with you. Fighting by your side."
"No!" The force of her cry seemed to throw them apart. Then Xena repeated more gently, "No. This isn't your fight."
"It is now."
"I don't want you fighting in this war."
"What do you want me to do, then? Go pick some berries while you play Warrior Queen?"
The air between them was heavy with tension, and Xena actually felt relieved when Phaleron's muffled voice came from outside.
"My lady?"
"Yes?"
"The other tent is ready."
"Good. Come in here, Phaleron." As he entered, she motioned toward Gabrielle. "This is Gabrielle of Potadeia, who wishes to serve in my army. As priest of Ares and my second in command, I want you to witness her oath."
Gabrielle stared at her.
"You want an oath of loyalty from me?"
"Not of loyalty." Xena's voice softened but only for a moment. "Of obedience."
She nearly broke down when she saw the look on Gabrielle's face -- so earnest, so wounded, so passionate. But this had to be done.
"All right," Gabrielle said quietly. She took a step back.
"Do you swear that, as long as you serve in the army I command, you will faithfully follow and obey my orders?"
She closed her eyes and bowed her head.
"I will."
"Swear it. On your honor as an Amazon queen."
"I swear, on my honor as an Amazon queen." A hollow echo spoke Xena's own words back to her.
"In the name of Ares," Phaleron said drily, "I witness this oath."
"Good," Xena said. "I have your assignment, Gabrielle. You are now the official scribe for this army."
Gabrielle gaped in disbelief.
"Official what?"
"Scribe. Keeper of chronicles. Oh, and you are expressly ordered not to take part in the fighting. You are much too valuable on the job."
"Xena -- "
"You're not about to argue with your commander, are you? Not after you've just taken your oath?" She saw the desperate plea in Gabrielle's eyes and nodded to the priest. "Go outside, Phaleron. I'll follow you in a minute."
When he was gone, she put her hands on Gabrielle's shoulders.
"I'm sorry... I had to do this. For you. For us." She forced herself to look Gabrielle in the face, and knew that she was the one pleading. "Maybe this is the best thing for you. Take the knowledge you've gained of the warrior's way, and put it to use as a bard."
"So you get to decide what's best for me."
"Gabrielle... when you gave up the Way of Love because of me, you said you chose the Way of Friendship. Remember?" She smiled, holding back tears, and lightly stroked Gabrielle's cheek with the back of her hand. "Well ... this is my way of friendship."
* ~ * ~ *
The sun stood high in the harsh blue canopy of the sky, battering the camp, making the throngs of soldiers look like a glittering sea of armor and leather -- a gleam so bright that it would no doubt have been painful to the eyes if Ares' eyes had been mortal.
It was hard to believe that this was happening, that he was once again seeing Xena like this, not just as a warrior but as a leader of warriors. Alcibiades' officers had just sworn their allegiance to her, and now the soldiers, their hair damp and their skin slick with sweat in the sweltering sun, cheered and chanted her name. The sound of it gave him a thrill almost as intense as the one he felt when his own named was called out by warriors and worshipers. Just like in the old days ... except that, back then, she felt the same thrill and he knew it, even if she remained outwardly impassive. Now, she was merely enduring this moment. Occasionally, she would glance almost timidly at Gabrielle, who stood apart from the officers, her face drawn and careworn. Ares remained invisible, but a couple of times Xena looked in his direction too, with an expression he couldn't quite read.
Then, for just a moment, her eyes sparkled and he knew that she was feeling it too, and his body responded with such violent yearning that he had to fight the urge to whisk her away right then.
When the cheers had died down, she held up her hand and stared ahead, squinting at the sun. Then she spoke, her voice strong and resonant.
"In two days, we march against Rome."
Again, a chorus of thousands roared its approval, the wave of sound rising and crashing over the soldiers' heads. This time, Xena did not wait for the cheering to stop; she lowered her hand, nodded curtly to the officers and walked back to her tent.
There was hushed muttering in the ranks; the soldiers were evidently somewhat nonplused by their new leader's abrupt departure. Phaleron frowned slightly and stepped forward to dismiss them.
Ares lingered a moment before following Xena inside. By now, his desire had simmered down, and there was a certain pleasure in postponing its fulfilment. He flashed into view just as she sat down on a bench and started to take off her boots. She stopped and looked up at him. That gleam in her eyes was gone now, and he knew what he had seen there before -- not even sadness but ... disappointment?
"Xena." He reached out, lightly stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
She rose to face him, and Ares had the unnerving feeling that something between them was missing, lost.
He drew her close, and her lips were warm and pliant as she received his kiss.
"Let me take you somewhere," he whispered, pulling away.
One side of her mouth twitched into a wry, sad half-smile.
"I don't know, Ares. Maybe it's not such a good idea to sleep with my boss."
"Funny." He brushed a strand of hair, damp with sweat, away from her face.
"It wasn't supposed to be."
Ares let go of her with an exasperated sigh.
"Xena -- you don't have to do this."
"I knew what I was getting into when I took on Alcibiades. A deal's a deal."
The War God winced.
"Don't." He brushed his finger against her lips. "It doesn't have to be like that between us ... not anymore."
"Now you have everything you've ever wanted, don't you," she said. "Me at the head in your army -- and in your bed."
With his memory sharpened by his powers, the day she had come to his temple in Amphipolis nearly thirty years ago was fresh in Ares' mind. I'm offering you everything you ever wanted. My sword, and the body that wields it. Take it. She had lied to him then -- after he'd given her no other choice.
The vague dread lurking in the back of his mind grew stronger, and he felt as if he had broken something fragile that couldn't be repaired ... but he hadn't really done anything, had he? The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted -- needed to make love to her, to have her in his arms...
Xena touched his hand.
"Ares," she said softly. "Let's go."
In the next moment they were in the bedroom at the Thracian fortress, where, at his will, the oil lamps stirred and flames leaped in the hearth; but this time he undressed her with his hands as a mortal would, pausing to kiss and caress the exposed skin.
Later, he held her in his arms and wondered why, for the first time, their lovemaking had left him unsatisfied. He desired her more ardently than ever, and after the initial awkwardness she had responded fully to his passion. But there was that same feeling again, the feeling that something was missing.
Everything he had ever wanted...
Maybe she just needed time to get used to this.
Maybe he did.
* ~ * ~ *
Gabrielle pushed away the scroll and the quill and rubbed her eyes, staring at the single sentence she had managed to write in the last hour: "In the month of Boedromion, on the third day, Xena's army entered the city of Skodra at sundown." She had crossed out "Xena's army" and replaced it with "Ares' army," then with "the army of Ares and Xena," then stared at the parchment for a while, and finally gone back to the original.
The third of Boedromion... so it had been about a month since Xena's troops had crossed the Macedonian border into the Roman province of Illyricum and taken Skodra, once the capital of the independent Illyria. After that, the army had easily swept through half of the province; the Roman forces stationed there to control the locals were unprepared for a real war, and had quickly retreated under the onslaught of a superior military force.
Now, with reinforcements sent from Rome under the command of General Quintilius Gallo, they had gathered in the coastal city of Salonae, the seat of the colonial Roman administration. Low-walled and unfortified, with a population whose loyalty to Rome was questionable at best, Salonae was in no shape to withstand a siege. The negotiations for surrender had collapsed, and scouts had reported that Gallo was planning to take his three legions out into the open field the next morning to meet Xena's army in battle.
Gabrielle sighed and got up. Without much hope for success, she was going try it once more: ask Xena to reverse her order and let her fight. She walked out into the cool evening air, heading toward Xena's tent. As dusk enveloped the camp in a bluish-grey haze, torches and bonfires were flaring up. Everything bustled with activity in preparation for the big day.
"Hey, Gabby!"
She turned around to see Mykillos, a lieutenant who had pestered her on several occasions with what was obviously intended as flirting. He sat by a fire with half a dozen other officers.
"Come over and read us a poem!" he called out, somehow managing to make it sound like a crude invitation.
"Come on, Mykillos," said one of the men. "Your turn."
Just as she was about to move on, Gabrielle noticed a target pinned to the trunk of a tree a few feet from the fire, with four daggers lodged in it. The man who had spoken to Mykillos rose, walked up to the tree and yanked out the knives.
Her interest piqued, she came closer.
"What are you doing?"
"Who's this?" asked the lone woman officer in the group, looking her over none too amicably.
"What, Berenice, you don't know?" said Mykillos. "Gabrielle, Xena's scribe. Famous bard, right, Gabby?"
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes at the lieutenant with a contemptuous little sniff.
"Oh no," a burly man with a shaggy red beard gasped in mock horror. "You've done it. She's going to read us a poem."
"Hey, Mykillos," said Berenice, "you wanna charm the ladies or you wanna throw the daggers?"
"All right, all right." Mykillos scrambled to his feet and picked up the knives.
"Wait a minute," Gabrielle said sweetly. "Having a contest?"
She wasn't sure what was goading her on. Maybe she just wanted to boost her self-confidence before seeing Xena ... and to help herself brace for the moment when Xena would almost inevitably turn down her request.
"We are," Mykillos said. "Wanna cheer me on?"
"Actually, I want to play. I mean, I want to be in the contest," Gabrielle added hastily, hoping that the officers hadn't seen her blush.
"Oh please," snorted Berenice. "We're playing with daggers, not quills, Miss Famous Bard."
When the guffaws had died down, Gabrielle said, "I have some experience with daggers."
"Yeah, probably about as much as Mykillos here does with the ladies," said the man with the red beard, setting off a new round of laughs.
"Up yours, Timon," grunted Mykillos. "Hey, Gabby, I'll play with you anytime. So, what do you want to wager?"
"A scroll!" Berenice snickered.
"Um ... five dinars?"
"No, no," the lieutenant said with a leer. "Let's make it something more interesting. Say ... how about ... your top?" He gestured, just in case she hadn't gotten it.
Gabrielle shot him a disgusted glance. "I don't think it's your size."
"It'll look nice hanging in my tent as a souvenir," said Mykillos.
Timon shook his head.
"Mykillos, you idiot. She's Xena's friend. Xena finds out about this and you can kiss your balls good-bye."
The bard glanced sideways at the men, wondering if she had enough confidence in her skills to make this wager.
"Okay," she said, rather shocked at herself. "My top..." -- she had a sudden idea -- "against your sword, Mykillos."
"My sword? Are you nuts?"
"She means the one at your side," said Berenice.
"What do you want to do with it, sharpen your quills? Oh all right, let's do it."
Grinning broadly, Mykillos handed two of the daggers to Gabrielle. Then, he planted his feet wide apart at the line drawn in the ground, took aim, and threw the knives. There were two dull thuds as they hit the target, quite close to the center. He turned to Gabrielle with a bow of mock gallantry.
"Give the girl a break, Mykillos," said one of the officers. "Let her take a couple of extra paces."
Ignoring the remark, Gabrielle took her position at the line and focused, raising her arm. The daggers slashed through the darkening air tinted by firelight.
Bull's-eye.
She breathed a small sigh of relief. After a brief pause, the officers clapped and cheered, and she took a measure of satisfaction in the disbelieving and indignant look on Mykillos' face.
"Hand it over," she said, smirking.
Muttering a curse, Mykillos unhooked the sword from his belt and shoved it in her hands.
"Want to go another round?" asked Berenice, clearly impressed.
Gabrielle shook her head. "Maybe some other time."
In a ridiculously better mood (as if she needed to prove to herself that she was still a capable warrior!), she returned with her trophy to her tent. Then, she was back on her way to see Xena.
Some minutes later, Gabrielle pushed aside the flap of Xena's tent, walked in and froze in her tracks.
In the corner of the nearly bare tent, where hardly anything remained of Alcibiades' furnishings except a mahogany table, a couple of chairs and a few lamps, Xena and Ares lay together reclining on pelts and pillows -- she in her leather tunic, leaning back against his chest; he with his vest, belt and gauntlets off, his arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. Their eyes were closed, but Gabrielle was stunned by the look on their faces -- a wistful tenderness, as if they knew that this moment would be over too soon and yet were desperate to hold on to it. She watched, mesmerized, as Xena put her hand over Ares' and squeezed it lightly while his other hand stroked her hair, his fingers running gently through its dark strands.
Gabrielle felt embarrassed, resentful and moved all at once. She was about to get out and leave them alone when Ares' eyelids flickered half-open. It was only an instant before the softness was gone from his eyes, giving way to annoyance and then to the familiar sarcastic glint.
"Here comes the scribe," he said, sitting up and dislodging Xena from his chest.
Xena flinched and opened her eyes, casting an anxious look at Gabrielle.
"I could -- uh -- come back later," Gabrielle said.
"No, no. Come in," Xena said quickly.
Ares unhurriedly put on his vest and gauntlets -- the mortal way, Gabrielle noted -- and rose.
"Xena," she said uncomfortably, "could we talk ... alone?"
"Don't you take the prize for subtle hints," Ares said, buckling his belt. Before she could answer anything, he had vanished with the usual flare of blue light, but something -- maybe the hint of amusement that peeked through the sadness in Xena's eyes -- told her he hadn't really left. With a quick motion, she pulled a sai from one of her boots and sent it flying at the spot where he had last stood. It swished unimpeded through the air before crashing into a bowl of fruit that stood on a tripod by the wall and knocking it over.
"Gabrielle? What in Tartarus was that?"
"Sorry... I thought he was still here."
"He is," Ares' mocking voice said behind her. "Right instinct. Wrong direction."
Gabrielle rolled her eyes and thought of throwing her other dagger at him but figured that he would just move to some other spot and make her look ridiculous again. She glanced questioningly at Xena.
"He's gone."
"I'm sorry I interrupted you."
"It's okay."
She came closer and sat down on the pelt next to Xena. They were silent for a few moments, and Gabrielle wondered if they had talked, really talked, even once in all those weeks since Xena took command of Ares' army. How could they, really, when there was so much to avoid?
"So, what have you been doing?" Xena asked.
"Oh, the usual. The bard thing." Even the light-hearted banter now seemed more like a clumsy attempt at a distraction. Gabrielle thought of telling Xena about the dagger-throwing contest, but then it occurred to her that Xena would make her give up the sword she had won from Mykillos. She wanted to keep it, just in case.
"I miss having you around," Xena said suddenly, her voice soft, almost timid.
"Me too."
In the next moment they were holding each other, and, very briefly, it was as if they didn't need to talk. Then, Xena pulled back and asked, "You wanted to speak to me about something?"
"Xena..." She took a deep breath. "Please let me fight tomorrow. I can't -- "
"No." Xena pressed a finger to her lips and shook her head. "No, Gabrielle. We've been over this. You are not fighting in this war."
She held Gabrielle's hands, and her touch was warm and gentle as always, but this time it wasn't enough.
* ~ * ~ *
From the top of the hill, one got a clear view of the two armies marching across the plain, the distance between them closing inexorably: the Greeks on one side, the Romans on the other.
Gabrielle watched, shivering a bit in the morning breeze. Down there was Xena, riding at the head of her troops -- still in her old armor and leathers, only instead of Argo, whom she never took into battle, she rode a sleek wild-maned black steed.
As the first rays of the sun fell on the plain, Gabrielle peered into the distance. There, behind the Roman legions, the city lay awake under the pale sky; further west, the sea dissolved into a whitish haze.
The Romans were clearly desperate; in the middle of the night, a small band of them had tried to set fire to Xena's camp in a sneak attack that was quickly repelled. Now, just as expected, Quintilius Gallo had led his legions out of the city gates for a battle in the open field.
Xena was down there ... and Gabrielle was up here on the hill, with a group of other non-combatants -- medics and armorers, a few officers from the reserve divisions that stayed in the camp behind them, and Phaleron, who had injured his sword arm in the skirmish the other night and was forced to sit this one out.
The two armies were now no more than two hundred yards apart.
There was another gust of wind; the bard picked up a cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, thinking of their conversation the night before, of the way Xena had avoided her eyes most of the time. Not for the first time, she asked herself how they had they come to this. Was it Ares' fault, or Xena's ... or hers? Maybe she should have never let Xena see how much the fighting and the killing was tearing her up inside. Maybe she should have never let her loyalty to the Amazons come before their bond. Maybe she should have tried to get Xena away from Ares before it was too late.
A blast of noise rose from the plain as the armies clashed, and for just a moment Gabrielle closed her eyes.
Maybe it wasn't really that bad. So Xena was leading an army now, but was it that different from what she did as a lone warrior? Maybe she was wrong not to trust Xena, after all those years, to do the right thing. Maybe she wasn't really concerned about what was best for Xena, just resentful -- jealous -- because she wasn't fighting at Xena's side ... and because when Xena was out there fighting, she belonged to Ares much more completely than she ever did in bed.
Gabrielle flinched and opened her eyes.
... Before long, the outnumbered Romans began to retreat, Xena's army pushing them back toward the main city gates. Gabrielle felt a vague anxiety. She was reminded of something -- the time when she and Xena looked down from a mountain ledge as Alcibiades' troops battled the armies of two warlords in Thessaly, and when the luck of the battle nearly turned against Alcibiades due to a surprise attack by a large contingent of the warlords' men who had been hiding in the woods.
"Phaleron," she said. "Do you think the Romans are retreating a little ... too easily?"
The priest of Ares shrugged, his eyes still on the field. "What, pray, is that supposed to mean?"
"What if there's a trap somewhere? What if they have more soldiers lying in wait?"
"There are three legions out there in the field." Phaleron spared her a disdainful glance. "We know from our scouts that the Romans don't have any more troops in the city."
The Romans were beginning to disperse; it seemed that in a matter of minutes now, Xena's forces would be at the gates. Then, slowly, the gates swung open -- and it happened: throngs of warriors streamed out, on horseback and on foot, charging into the fray. Gabrielle looked on, dazed, feeling trapped in a nightmare she couldn't stop. And there were still more Romans, coming from one of the side gates and attacking the left flank of Xena's army. The clouds of dust rising over the field made it hard to tell exactly what was happening, except that the battle was clearly raging with renewed vigor.
"Impossible!" For once, Phaleron's voice quavered. "They had no reserves!"
"Reinforcements must have come in." That was Pelopidas, one of the senior officers.
"Impossible," Phaleron repeated, somewhat less emphatically. "We had sentries watching all the roads into the city!"
"Maybe they came in by sea," said Pelopidas.
The warrior priest snorted. "Unnoticed?"
To Gabrielle, their voices seemed to come in from a great distance -- but sudden realization still hit her.
"The attack on the camp!"
"What about it?" Pelopidas asked. But Phaleron's eyes widened slightly in understanding, and for once he looked at the bard with something resembling respect.
"A diversion," he said thoughtfully. "They distracted us by setting fire to the camp, long enough for their boats to get into port. Very clever indeed. Very -- "
"Who cares how they got here," Gabrielle interrupted. "They're here, and they're attacking. We have to send in more soldiers."
"We? You're a scribe, not an officer, Gabrielle."
They glared at each other, she with exasperation, he with barely disguised hostility. When Gabrielle turned back to the field, she saw that three cavalrymen had separated themselves from the seething, battling mass of humanity and were racing toward the hill. One of them abruptly lurched forward and fell, struck down by an arrow or a spear -- it was too far to see. His horse reared up in fright, then dashed after the other two riders, dragging the dead man behind it with his foot caught in the stirrup; after a while, it made a sharp curve and galloped off toward the woods on the edge of the plain.
"We're sending in more men," Phaleron said. "Pelopidas, go get them ready."
Gabrielle let out her breath as the officer turned and walked back to the camp.
The two horsemen, now almost at the foot of the hill, were waving frantically. She fought the impulse to race toward them -- she wasn't sure her feet would carry her, anyway -- and instead waited and watched them make their way up, feeling as though she were enveloped in some invisible but dense fog.
"What's happening?" Phaleron asked as the first man to reach them halted his horse.
"It's ... not good, my lord." The man paused, catching his breath. "Lysander and Mnester are dead ... about two hundred of our men have been cut off by the Romans and cornered by the city walls ... and ... Xena is with them."
The fog cleared, and Gabrielle knew with perfect clarity what she had to do. Her legs were steady now as she turned and bolted toward the camp.
"Just a minute." Phaleron's hand clamped down on her arm. "Where are you going?"
"To get my horse and my sword. I'm going in."
"No, you're not. You're a scribe. Xena forbade you to go into battle. You took an oath." She tried to free herself but, even with his left hand, the priest of Ares was able to maintain a strong grip. "On your honor as an Amazon queen."
That gave her pause, but only for a moment. No, she would never again let her duties as an Amazon come between her and Xena.
"An Amazon queen doesn't sit out a battle when her friend needs her," she said. "Let go."
"You don't even have any armor."
"That never stopped me before."
"Do they even make armor in her size?" guffawed Phaleron's aide, Cotys, who stood nearby. "Oh, wait -- maybe for kids at the training academy."
While he was snickering at his own joke, Gabrielle wrenched her arm from Phaleron's grasp, whirled around and kicked Cotys' legs out from under him. He sprawled backwards, a stunned and indignant look on his round face. Now it was some of the others who laughed -- Cotys wasn't too popular -- but Gabrielle barely heard it. Before Phaleron could say anything else, she sprinted back to her tent.
Some minutes later, armed and on horseback, she caught up with Pelopidas on the hilltop as he was taking the reinforcements, cavalry and infantry, out into the field. The officer, one of the few with whom she'd gotten to be friendly, shot her a surprised look.
"Gabrielle? I thought -- "
"There's no time to think."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phaleron making his way toward her, shouting something. She spurred on her horse, racing ahead of Pelopidas, and he sped up too. They galloped toward the battlefield side by side without another word .
All of Gabrielle's mind had knotted into a single thought -- Please let it not be too late -- but then, another idea shot through her head. Wouldn't Ares come to Xena's aid if she was really in trouble? With a shock, she realized that she didn't know. Ares had his principles, and one of them, apparently, was that he didn't bail out his chosen warriors; they were supposed to be good enough to take care of themselves. Would he bend those rules for Xena? Maybe ... but the bottom line was that she couldn't count on Ares. Her lips tight, she gave the horse another kick in the sides and heard it neigh in alarm.
They had almost reached the battleground when there was a low whistling sound, and several blurry grey streaks cut through the air. Then another sound came, followed by a startled outcry behind her. She turned to see Pelopidas sway in the saddle, his hands going toward his throat where a barbed arrow was sticking out, and then slump and crumple heavily to the ground. Her eyes fell on droplets of blood on her knee, and her mind registered the fact that another arrow had grazed her arm. Behind her, the men seemed to hesitate.
"Follow me!"
The shout rang out above the din of the battle, and it took Gabrielle an extra second to realize that it was her own voice. The soldiers looked at her doubtfully, still hanging back. Her voice rose in fury as she yelled "Come on!" and drove into the fray, running her sword through the first Roman to block her path and then yanking it out, bright and wet with death. The others were behind her now, and Gabrielle pushed forward, cutting her path through the human thicket.
She had no idea how much time had passed, how many Romans she had struck down, or in how many places her own body was cut and bleeding. The tide of the battle had turned again, and almost everywhere the Romans were on the run, but Xena was still nowhere to be seen, still trapped somewhere by the city walls. And then Gabrielle saw her -- soaring high over enemy ranks, flipping in the air, and disappearing from view again.
The Amazon bard froze, losing her focus for a moment, and barely had time to duck a swishing blade that almost took her head off. Before she could regain her balance and strike back, the assailant tackled her, and they both went tumbling down.. Gabrielle found herself pinned underneath the much bigger Roman, her sword lying a few feet away, as he tried to aim the tip of his weapon at her throat.
Squirming desperately, she pushed him off just enough to be able to twist her body and reach one of her sais. The man's hand closed around her neck. She struggled for air, her vision growing blurry, but she still managed to drive the dagger into his thigh. His eyes bulged and he cursed, spraying her face with spit; she slashed again, and the hold on her neck was weakened enough for her to wriggle free. Gabrielle scrambled to her feet and slammed her boot into the Roman's face. With a howl of pain, he clutched at his nose with his left hand. She kicked again, knocking his sword from his grasp and catching it in mid-flight. Then, gasping for breath, she spun around, her eyes riveted to where she had last seen Xena.
And there she was, sword raised high, hair flying in the wind, leading a charge toward the gates.
She was all right.
Gabrielle turned to see her opponent rise and stagger toward her. She brought him down with another powerful kick and ran his own sword through his neck.
* ~ * ~ *
The heavy, silver-plated, ornate doors of the Roman government building groaned and shook under the battering ram and finally gave way.
The stately building with heavyset marble columns was the last patch of territory the Romans still held in Salonae. Quintilius Gallo had fled with what remained of his legions, and Xena's army had entered the city with no resistance. But it wasn't quite over yet, and Xena remained fully alert, fully focused as she strode into the ostentatious lobby. A bowstring snapped and sang overhead, and she looked up sharply to see the shooter on a mezzanine, in time to catch the arrow with her left hand and throw the chakram with her right.
Her soldiers were going off in all directions, up the stairs and down the hallways, past a handful of cowering clerks and servants who were still in building. Xena spotted a small band of Roman soldiers, fewer than a dozen, standing by a door at the end of a corridor. With her officers behind her, she headed that way. The fools were obviously determined to die on their post, and she quickly obliged hem.
When the door was flung open, the smell of burning hit Xena's nostrils. She saw a lanky, balding man standing by the fireplace, throwing parchments into the blaze -- some sort of official documents, no doubt. He turned, and she recognized him from the busts she had seen in the towns her army had taken: Flavius Bolanus, the Roman governor of Illyricum.
Bolanus had been a military commander once, and it was still evident in his bearing and in the resolute way he reached for the sword propped up by the wall -- though he was at least fifty now, and clad in a toga that was likely to hamper his movements. For a few moments, he stood there pointing the sword at Xena and seemed to ponder his next move, as if he actually had a chance; only the blinking of his eyes and the way his left hand was balled into a white-knuckled fist indicated that he knew how hopeless his plight was. He looked from Xena to the warriors behind her. Then, with a swift motion, Bolanus turned the tip of the blade toward his own chest. His hand shook momentarily, and the delay was enough for Xena's chakram to knock the sword out of his hand, the metal clanging on the marble floor. The governor of Illyricum was more useful alive than dead.
She caught the chakram, intercepting the admiring glances of her men, and said casually, as if she gave such orders every day, "Chain him. Get him out of here."
As Bolanus was dragged away, the Warrior Princess let her eyes wander aimlessly around the study. It was really over now. There had been a moment, back when the Romans had her trapped by the walls and she watched her soldiers falling and dying around her, when rage burst inside her head like a ball of white lightning and took over -- not blind rage but the opposite, focused and aware and yet savage enough that she would have gladly killed every Roman within her reach. But that had long subsided, and now the intoxication of combat and victory was beginning to wear off too; she even became concsious of her injuries -- the hastily bandaged wound above her knee, the jagged cut on the arm where an arrow had slashed her skin, thankfully without hitting bone or muscle.
And then Xena was aware of something else: the familiar tingle of Ares' presence, only now her awareness of it was heightened. The knowledge that he was watching her brought back an almost dizzying surge of pleasure in a battle well-fought and won, along with a jolt of sexual excitement that made her close her eyes.
"Everyone out," she said in a level voice.
After the officers and soldiers had filed out, Xena turned toward where the God of War stood. It was a few more seconds before he appeared. He stared at her without coming any closer; his lips were parted, and his eyes glowed faintly as if reflecting nearly extinguished embers.
She walked up to him, clasped her hands on the back of his neck, and pulled his mouth down to hers.
They had never made love like this, after a battle -- though in her warlord days, she had teased him maddeningly with the possibility, as part of that cat-and-mouse game of hers. It was something Ares had imagined many times, and yet now something made him hesitate for an instant. But she was already tugging at the laces on his pants while backing him into a high mahogany chair by the wall, never breaking the kiss, and the need to have her swept aside everything else. What presence of mind he had left went into sealing the door shut with a wave of his hand. He ripped away her undergarment and tried to unhook her breastplate, but Xena grabbed his arms, tearing her lips away from his, and pushed him down on the chair.
She undid his pants and straddled him. Then she kissed him again, a low growl vibrating in her throat. He wanted to tell her to go slow, to let him touch her, but the sheer bliss of being inside her was too much ... Tartarus, let her do whatever she wants. Her hands roamed his chest, throwing his vest open. It made him draw in his breath and arch into her -- and just then, his gasp turned into one of pain as Xena twisted his nipples hard enough to hurt even his immortal flesh.
She did it again, even more violently. Ares jerked his head away from her, freeing his mouth, and hissed, "Stop that."
Xena smirked at him, a hard glitter in her eyes. "What? Too rough for the God of War?"
Before he could say anything else, she claimed his mouth in another kiss, still pulling and twisting his nipples. He seized her wrists, wrenching her arms behind her back, and she chuckled into his mouth and then sank her teeth into his lower lip. She couldn't draw blood, which seemed only to drive her to greater frenzy, but she was hurting him all right, and he felt anger rising inside him, mixing with lust and with the residual thrill of the morning's battle. Oh, it's blood you want? I'll give you blood.
A salty, tangy, slightly metallic taste filled Ares' mouth as he bit Xena's lip, and seconds later her body shook in a wild spasm, her inner muscles clenching around him. His arousal shot up to an almost impossible intensity; releasing her arms, he grabbed her shoulders and threw her down on the floor, slamming into her again and again until orgasm ripped through him like a sheet of flame.
He wasn't sure how long he lay on top of her after it finally ended. He knew, more as a flash of realization than as a coherent thought, that this was what he had once hoped to attain with Xena, this was what had first made him pursue her years ago when she was still a warlord in his service -- the promise of this perfect union of sex and battle-lust that, in thousands of years, he had found only with two or three Amazon queens.
He pulled himself up and looked at her.
Xena lay still, her eyes closed, her breathing uneven. Dark blood ran from her lip, trickling down her chin and her neck. There was a bleeding bite on her chest as well, right above the breastplate; the imprints of his fingers on her shoulders were turning purple, and he saw red scratches next to those marks.
Ares sat up and pressed his palms to his temples, shaking his head as if trying to clear his vision. A wave of nausea, almost as powerful as the pleasure had been, rolled to his throat and made him gag, bringing back memories of some of his less enjoyable mortal moments. Even now, he probably would have thrown up if he'd had any food in his stomach.
He reached out to stroke her face but jerked his fingers away as she opened her eyes. For a moment, there was stark terror in her mute stare before it changed to anguish.
"Xena..." he whispered, gingerly reaching out again, wiping the blood from her lip.
"I'm okay." Her voice was barely audible.
His nipples were still smarting a bit, but that was nothing compared to the dull pain inside his chest. He longed to hold her, yet somehow couldn't bring himself to take her in his arms now. He touched her hand, only to notice that her wrist was bruised as well, and brushed his fingertips over the reddened skin. She shivered.
They stayed like this a little while longer, until Ares rose to his feet, using his powers to readjust his clothes.
"Up you go," he said gently, holding out his hand.
Another moment passed before she took his hand and got up. Their eyes met again, and the War God struggled for words to say something, anything, but finally gave up. He waved at the door, unsealing it, and took himself back to Olympus.
* ~ * ~ *
After the blue light faded, Xena paced slowly around the study. It was hard to tell which of the aches and pains all over her body came from the battle, and which from her coupling with Ares. She ran her tongue over the torn, burning flesh of her lip, which was already starting to swell. Looking down, she realized that the leg wound had reopened too, fresh blood soaking through the stained bandage. But that didn't matter; she always healed quickly, and she was used to blocking out pain. Far worse was the knowledge that she and Ares had come to this. Maybe she had been fooling herself all along; maybe everything that had happened between them from the moment of their first union that night in the field had led to this ... Xena's eye fell on Bolanus' sword, still lying where it had landed when her chakram had knocked it from his hand. She kicked it, making it slide across the floor with a scraping sound.
A noise outside drew her attention. Xena went to the window and pushed it open. Out there in the square where a Roman temple gleamed white and gold in the sunlight and a statue of the Emperor cast its tall shadow, men and women were dancing and singing, hugging each other, even hugging her soldiers; amidst the chanting and the cheers, she thought she heard her own name.
Xena sighed and straightened up, ignoring the soreness in her back. She had an army to run and business to attend to. She walked briskly to the door and beckoned to her officers to come in. If any of them wondered what had happened to her lip, they weren't about to show it.
She listened to the casualty reports, belatedly heavy-hearted at the thought that so many warriors were dead because she had slipped up and let the Romans trick her.
"What about Pelopidas' regiment -- whom are you going to put in his place?" asked one of the officers, Callippus. "You know, you could do worse than give it to that woman who took over when he was killed."
Xena looked up at him.
"What woman?"
"Not sure who she is, but I saw it myself. She was riding next to Pelopidas, then he got shot, and she was the one who rallied the soldiers and led them into battle. That girl can fight, I'll tell you that much!" He shook his head admiringly. "Couldn't have done better if she'd been taking lessons from you."
No. It couldn't be.
"And she didn't look like much," Callippus continued. "No taller than this" -- he held out his hand -- "and she wasn't even wearing armor..."
He stopped, taken aback by Xena's glare.
After the first flash of anger, she felt a strange hollowness inside. It was as if someone she loved had died, yet again, and she had been helpless to prevent it.
"Oh yeah -- that was Gabrielle, the scribe," said another officer, Argyron. "I saw her today -- I'd no idea she could fight like that! Say, Xena, if she's that good, how come you didn't send her out into the field bef --"
Her look cut him off even before she spoke.
"I hope you're not questioning my judgment," she said.
"O- of course not."
She was going to send for Gabrielle, but just then, the door opened and a grim-faced Phaleron came in, pulling her by the arm with unnecessary roughness, since the bard wasn't resisting. Her face and her body were streaked with caked mud and blood, the one almost impossible to tell from the other. She looked resigned and slightly dazed, until her eyes met Xena's and came to life again. Before she could think, Xena's hand went up to cover her mouth. Then she got up from her seat and turned away.
"She fought well, Xena," Phaleron said. "Under any other circumstances, she would deserve the highest honors. But she directly disobeyed your orders, and I suggest -- "
"Phaleron." Xena's voice was dangerously low. "I suggest that you let go of her right now. I also suggest that you remember what I've told you: I do not take orders from you." She paused. "Now, leave us alone. Everyone."
After a minute she heard the door slam shut, and then Gabrielle said, "Xena? They're gone."
She stood still, staring into the fireplace where the remnants of the fire had died long ago.
"Won't you even look at me?" Gabrielle's voice had a shrill edge.
Xena spun around, and the bard gasped.
"Xena --" she raised a finger to her own lips.
"It doesn't matter."
"This isn't from the battle, is it," she said quietly. "Did -- did he do this?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Gabrielle came closer, squinting in disbelief.
"Oh gods, Xena ... and here too..." -- she pointed to the mark on her chest -- "and this..." She touched Xena's scratched and bruised shoulders and tried to hug her, but Xena held her at bay, suddenly irritated at being fussed over.
"I gave as good as I got," she snapped, only to regret it immediately when she saw her friend's horrified look.
"Xena, what's happening to you? This isn't you..."
"Oh? And this is you?" She gestured brusquely toward the bloodstains on Gabrielle's skin. "Dammit, Gabrielle -- I thought I could trust you!"
"Trust me to do what?" Gabrielle's voice rose again. "Stand by while the Romans have you surrounded?"
"I was doing fine."
"Oh of course... the great Warrior Princess couldn't possibly need my help!"
"You know that's not what this is about. You took an oath. You lied to me."
"You had no right to ask for that kind of oath!"
"It was for -- "
"For my own good? Don't even say it." Gabrielle's mouth twisted in a bitter sneer that looked wrong, so very wrong on her face. "Whom are you really trying to protect, Xena? You want me to be this untainted little innocent so you can go on thinking you have something pure in your life -- while you lead Ares' army ... while you become everything Ares ever wanted you to be!"
Xena's cheeks were burning worse than her damaged lip. She remembered the words Ares had thrown at her that night in the field, just before they made love for the first time. Everything you do is because you want to like yourself... She felt the tears welling up.
"Oh, Gabrielle... Sometimes I think it would have been better if we had never met -- better for you..."
Gabrielle's face crumbled for a moment before the anger came back.
"Don't ever say that. Don't." It was an accusation, not a plea. "Don't tell me that all these years have been for nothing..." She stopped and laughed bitterly. "Including the twenty-five years we were stuck in an ice cave thanks to your boyfriend."
Xena looked down; when she raised her head again, Gabrielle's eyes were soft and hurt.
"Xena..." She reached out and took Xena's hand. "Let's get out of here."
"What?"
"Let's leave. Now. Forget about your deal with Ares. Let him find himself another commander."
Shaking her head, the Warrior Princess gently squeezed Gabrielle's bare, spattered shoulders.
"I can't, Gabrielle. I can't. But you can."
"You know I'm not leaving you."
Xena walked back to the desk and sat down. After a long silence, she said, "I want to tell you something."
"What?"
She forced herself to look straight at Gabrielle.
"Whatever happens, you are always going to be purest thing in my life. And I will always love you." She paused, because what she had to say next was even harder. "I don't know if I'm doing this for you or for me, but I have to do it."
"Do what?" Gabrielle asked warily.
"My army will be leaving Salonae in three days. Some of the troops will remain stationed here, with Theramenes in charge. I ... I want you to stay too."
"Xe-- "
"No, wait. You can do some good here, Gabrielle, caring for the wounded -- for the prisoners ... You'll have the authority, I'll give Theramenes the orders. But you are not to go outside Salonae, you understand? Try to leave the city and you'll be stopped. Try to rejoin the army, and you'll be brought back here. And that's final," she added as Gabrielle opened her mouth again.
She rose, came up to Gabrielle and drew her into a too-fierce hug. The bard raised her hands hesitantly, her palms almost but not quite touching Xena's shoulders.
"So he finally got you to get rid of me," she said in a soft, hollow voice.
"No one's getting rid of anyone." Xena stifled back tears. "I'll be back when the war's over. We'll be together again. I promise." If you still want me in your life.
* ~ * ~ *
"I miss Gabrielle, you know." Getting no answer, Xena sighed and continued, "You don't understand that, do you. I know you and she haven't always gotten along ... I guess you just don't know her the way I do."
Argo was eating an apple from her hand, her lips flopping wetly around Xena's fingers as she stroked the mare's smooth neck and let the warmth spread under her skin. When the last of the apple was gone, she patted Argo's muzzle, feeling the animal's soft breath in her palm.
She shook her head. What was she thinking? It was the old Argo that Gabrielle hadn't always gotten along with. Did she, after all this time, still have trouble dealing with the idea of those missing twenty-five years?
"It's too bad you didn't know Gabrielle in the old days." She took another apple out of her satchel. "Yeah ... I miss her." And the old Argo, too, sometimes... "Funny, isn't it. I don't take you into battle either, but you're not going to start complaining about it or go behind my back..."
As Argo munched contentedly, Xena reflected that Ares hadn't been around either since the day she had told Gabrielle to stay in Salonae. It had been over a month -- a month in which she had led his army to victory after victory, chasing the Romans out of Illyria, taking part of Gaul, and finally entering Italy itself. Well, he had been around, lurking and watching her sometimes, but he hadn't made himself visible even once, and she hadn't called him out.
Argo snorted gently into her neck, nuzzling her. With a wistful smile, Xena scratched her behind the ear.
"I guess we're on our own now, girl."
She heard someone coming toward Argo's enclosure and turned to see Argyron.
"The messenger from Ariminum is here."
She straightened out her shoulders, her face hardening into resolve.
"What does he have to say?"
"She will only speak to you."
"Very well, then. I'll see her in my tent right away."
The woman waiting in the tent was no more than twenty, nearly as tall as Xena and of slender build, accentuated by her long, plain, silvery-grey gown. She had been leaning back slightly against the edge of the table but straightened up stiffly when Xena came in. It was possible to imagine emotion and even warmth in that beautiful chiseled face, but right now it held none.
"Xena," she said in a firm, expressionless voice.
"And who are you?"
"Lavinia Silana," she said in the clipped tones of a soldier reporting to a commanding officer. "My father, Lavinius Torquatus, is the chief magistrate of Ariminum."
"So you are the messenger they sent to me." Xena walked over to her rug-covered seat, one of her trophies from Salonae -- a chair whose silver back was formed by two crossed curved sabers -- and sat down, then pointed to a stool.
"Take a seat."
"No. For what I have to say, I'd rather remain standing."
Xena met the steady gaze of her pale hazel eyes, and knew with resignation what she was about to hear.
"I take it you're not here to negotiate a surrender."
"I'm here to tell you that every man in Ariminum is prepared to fight to the death. So is every woman. And every child old enough to hold a slingshot." On those last words, Lavinia's voice trembled a bit and her jaw twitched. "We can't beat you, Xena. We know that. But there will be no surrender."
Xena turned away. "It's not too late to reconsider."
"Yes, it is."
The shrill edge in the messenger's voice made her look up again.
"What are you talking about?"
In the next instant, she knew: her warriors whom Quintilius Gallo had captured at Salonae and taken with him in his retreat to Ariminum.
"The prisoners ..."
Lavinia looked her straight in the eye, calm again, except that her hands were clasped together too tightly.
They stared at each other in an almost unbearable stillness, as if waiting for something to happen, and finally it did. A commotion was heard outside, and then Argyron stuck his head into the tent. He looked grim.
"Xena, you should come out here."
"What's going on?"
"They've thrown some bodies from the city walls."
"Our men," she said flatly.
"We haven't retrieved the bodies yet, but -- it sure looks like it."
Xena never flinched; yet she felt rage gripping her, like an iron ring tightening slowly around her head. She turned back to Lavinia.
"It's no different than what you did to the governor of Illyricum," the young woman blurted out, and for just a second something in her manner suggested a defiant teenager rather than an intrepid Roman.
Xena narrowed her eyes. "Bolanus was killed trying to escape. It was an accident."
"So you say."
After a brief pause, Xena rose abruptly.
"You wanted to make sure there was no way back."
"If you want to take Ariminum," Lavinia said, "you'll have to kill every last one of us."
From somewhere in the past, Xena's own voice exploded inside her head. Kill them all!
"Well," she said with a chilly smile, her tone almost conversational, "since you ask so nicely..."
Lavinia stood very straight, her head thrown back, her eyes on the Warrior Princess.
"Argyron," Xena said. "Make sure she gets safely back inside the city walls." As the officer eyed her expectantly, she added, "And gather the troops. I'll speak to them as soon as they're ready. We attack tomorrow."
She looked at Roman messenger, and then turned back to Argyron.
"There will be no quarter."