Chapter 3
The fine blue fabrics of his robes were heavy in the humidity as he continued down the small, well worn path through the dense foliage. He was tall and lithe, with almond colored skin and black hair. His eyes were a lighter brown, almost golden, and they surveyed his surroundings with the intensity of a hunting animal following an elusive scent.
He had no name of his own. He had never been given one. Only a title – one that served to forewarn those he tracked as to their fate. He was a Rakshasa – a soul hunter. He was a warden of the Planes of Fire, a place from which no soul should ever escape. He shrugged in his robes, trying in vain to air away some of the moisture, but it the attempt failed. His handsome features twisted into a subtle look of dissatisfaction.
Why his prey would choose to exist in such balmy conditions was beyond his reasoning. It was so unlike the arid climes that he was used to walking. So alien from his home.
He sighed. "Then again," he thought. "That is probably why he did choose these lands. None of our kind would wish to endure it. Indeed, in the past, our kind would never have traveled as far as this. The Gods of the Greeks would have prevented that."
He found the campsite easily enough, in spite of the efforts of his prey to disguise their trail.
He paced about the cold ashes of the campfire, his eyes studying the earth around him. He made out the subtle variances in the topography easily enough.
"Six of you slept here," he knelt, staring at the earth. Then he saw the four tiny indentations. "And the seventh, upon a bier, there."
His golden eyes traversed the opposite side of the campsite. There he found the remains of another, smaller fire.
"And you, my friend, and your consort, rested here," he smiled softly. At any other time, the smile would have appeared friendly, warm, almost seductive. This time, however, there was a touch of frost to it that seemed to chill the immediate air around him.
It melted into a frown as he continued his observation. Two more sets of tracks?
"And who were you, I wonder?" he asked aloud in a soft, silky, mildly accented voice.
He moved over to the new tracks and knelt down. His fingers gently touched the shallow impression, as if sensing the person who made them. Then his fingers curled, scooping up a small amount and he held it to his nostrils, sniffing curiously.
Beneath the deep, moist, earthy scent he detected something else. He smiled as he recognized the subtle blend. Olives mixed in measure with the scent of flowers.
"Rose oil," he whispered. It was a surprisingly pleasant experience. He frowned as he contemplated the footprint of the person that had left that scent. Booted feet, like the boots of a warrior, and yet the effluvium spoke of a woman?
"Curious?" he mused.
The second scent was easier to deduce. It was male, a little smaller in size, but also in the footwear of a warrior. He noted that and turned his attention back to his task.
He easily found the scent of his quarry and he smiled as he moved about, retracing the movements of the party that previous evening. Then his smile melted into a frown. He found the last slight indentation, next to where the bier had been placed. Silently, he admonished himself for not seeing it earlier. Then again, his quarry had been terribly emaciated by this time, and there had been little mass or weight to disturb the moist soil. He scooped up another small amount of earth and sniffed. The odor was the same as always, with only a slight difference this time. It had a subtle undertone of something unpleasant. He nodded in understanding. He knew the scent of death when he smelled it.
"So, Inures," he smiled. "The old carcass finally gave out on you, eh?"
His attention turned again to the place where the bier had lain and he frowned. "So, whose body are you working in now?" he knelt on all fours and brought his head close to the earth, sniffing for this new trail that he would follow.
He found it after a few moments, and smiled in triumph.
"What in the world are you doing?" a voice asked.
The Rakshasa froze, his face inches from the earth. He could sense the presence of two individuals immediately behind him, no more than fifteen feet away.
"I am praying," he said calmly. His smile slowly reasserted itself.
"Pray later," the voice said sharply. "Give us your money, valuables, anything you might be carrying."
"I do not have such trinkets," The Rakshasa replied easily. "As I said, I am praying."
There was a soft snort of indignation. "Get up!" the voice ordered again, and this time, he heard the sound of a blade being drawn.
"But I am praying for you," The Rakshasa continued evenly.
Another blade was drawn.
With a resigned sigh, the Rakshasa rose and smoothed out the folds of his robe with feline deliberation. Then he clasped his hands together and stared at them two thieves impassively.
"What do you wish of me?" he asked calmly. He eyed the two would-be thieves closely. They were each rather young, dirty and unkempt. One of them held a decrepit sword while the second, casually held a cruel looking dagger in his hand.
"Your weapons will not gain from me, that which I do not possess," he stated simply.
The one holding the knife sneered. "I don't know," he said, looking sidelong at his companion. "I think those robes would fetch a decent price?"
The Rakshasa held his hands out in non committal form and shrugged.
"And you plan to take them off me?" he asked with that unnerving smile.
"If we have to," The one with the sword chuckled. "I'd hate to get blood on them though?"
"As would I," The Rakshasa replied. "I'm curious, gentlemen? How do you plan to take them from me, if I will not give them to you willingly?"
"How do you think?" The man with the knife asked. "What are you, stupid or crazy?"
"You would kill me?" The Rakshasa asked as that interminable smile returned. "With those?" He gestured to the weapons in their hands.
The knife wielder looked down and was startled to see, not his trusty dagger, but a ripe, yellow banana, while his companion suddenly cried out in alarm as his sword transformed into a serpent that began to coil about his arm.
Both men were so shocked by this that they instantly let their weapons fall, and saw them land on the ground at their feet.
They looked at one another in complete astonishment and then at their intended victim. He stood poised, unmoving, his hands still clasped in front of him, staring deeply into their wide eyes.
In horror, both men watched as the figure of the man, now, slowly became something altogether more terrifying.
The face elongated into a distinctly feline snout, and thick, soft orange and black fur emerged around the face and neck, the latter framed by tufts of white.
The golden cats' eyes stared into their souls.
"Tell me?" the creature's voice asked in a low, melodic purr. "What is it that you fear the most?"
The tiger face stared at them with animalistic intensity, and then both men paled and cried out.
The one who had held the sword began flailing wildly and gurgling in panic, his arms floundering up and down like a drowning man while his companion began running wildly about, frantically brushing unseen terror from his body and screaming "Get them off me! Get them off me!"
The gurgling man finally fell to the ground, kicked and flailed a few more moments and lay still, while the other one tripped on a snag in the ground and fell face first into the mud. He rolled over and looked at some unseen terror as he scooted away, his eyes darting all about him in blind panic. Tiny bite marks began to appear on the exposed flesh of his arms and face as he cried out in agony before he, too, finally clutched at his chest and went rigid. Then he also ceased to move.
The Rakshasa stepped over to the two fallen men and gazed down at them with catlike curiosity. Then it reached one fur covered, claw like hand and placed it upon the forehead of the first man. There was a hissing sound, like a distant scream, and the Rakshasa withdrew the nebulous sheet of fog that was the man's soul. He opened the small pouch that hung from his simple black belt and slipped the soft form into it, and then he repeated the gesture with the second assailant, stuffing that soul into his pouch as well.
The tiger face and claws shifted once again, and he stood their, almond skinned, and fair of features, a simple traveler once more.
His eyes scanned the campsite one more time, reassuring himself that he had not missed any other pertinent details. Then he turned and began following this new scent.
"No, no, no," Mystros was waving his hand before him and smiling. "Forgive me, young master, but that is completely incorrect."
"How can you say that?" Alexander protested.
"Because the two points of view are mutually exclusive," Mystros replied with a chuckle.
"Think about it," he explained. "The teachings of Eli followed a philosophy of non violence. There were no exceptions. His teachings were presented as absolutes, without any variation possible, yes?"
"Of course," Alexander replied.
"Then how can a belief system destroy evil if it is not even permitted to defend itself and its own teachings?" Mystros asked. "If they resist or fight, the disavow anything that they themselves teach, and if they do nothing, they die along with their message? Taken as an absolute, it is an impossible mission."
"But that was what Eli taught," Xena added to the debate. "Now, I don't say that I believed everything he said, but the message is sound."
"Oh, I do agree on that point, Xena," Mystros replied. "The message of the Avatar is very sound. It was the interpretation of the message that was flawed."
"How so?" Xena asked.
"Here we go," Eve muttered softly. A knowing smile appeared.
Mystros heard the gentle rebuke and smiled.
"Granted," he admitted. "I have had some considerable experience over the past few centuries? I have seen dozens of Avatars come and go, and they each taught a lesson similar to your friend, one of love and understanding. A Path of Peace, as the last one called it, or the Way of Love, as some others have named it. I tend to agree with the latter, but not the former."
"But they both mean the same thing," Xena said. "Don't they?"
"No," Mystros replied immediately. "They do not."
"Yes they do," Eve said in a quiet, lilting voice.
Mystros laughed. "Eve and I always end up in this same debate after she has had to use her weapons in defense of us. And as always, we will agree to disagree on various points."
"Such as?" Alexander asked eagerly.
Xena suppressed a small smile and edged back to walk beside her daughter. "You'll like this. If there's one thing my brother loves, it's a great debate."
Eve grinned. "That bad?"
"He's worse than mom," Xena caught herself. "I mean, your aunt."
In spite of the near silence of their whispered conversation, Mystros turned and gave them both a dubious, knowing look.
"We shall see, my dear," he replied. Then he turned to Alexander.
"Very well," he began. "I will give you a short summation of the two paths, as I have heard them discussed over the centuries. After which, you may make up your own mind. Please stop me if you have any questions, fair enough?"
Alexander shrugged and gave a nod.
"As messages go, the two interpretations that have been most predominant in recent history were the Path of Peace, and the Way of Love. Both are variations on a theme of the true message sent by the divine, Oma, the one who leads souls to enlightenment. With me so far?"
"Of course," Alexander nodded. "Two interpretations of the same message."
"Good." Mystros nodded. "Now, consider this. I tell a story to your sister, and then tell the identical story to you. Would you both remember it the same way? Would the imagery in your mind be identical to the imagery in the mind of your sister?"
"Of course not!" Alexander said with a sly smile in the direction of her sister. "She's a girl."
"Hey!" Xena shot back. "Keep an open mind, remember?"
Mystros chuckled and looked back at the girls. "His example is a little simplistic, but still accurate, Xena. You would recall certain details that were more relevant to you, and your brother would do the same, but in different parts of the story. You might be more intrigued by any military aspects of my tale, while your brother might focus more on the dialogue, you understand?"
"Yeah," Xena replied.
"My point is this: You would not relate the same story in the same way to others, and they would have their own interpretations based on what they hear and retain, and thus is the truth diluted." Mystros held out his hands. "And so, I believe, has the true message of the Avatar of Oma, over the last millennia."
"So?" Alexander asked. "Explain how the title of the message has warped its purpose?"
"That is the easy part, Master Alexander," Mystros nodded.
"When one contemplates peace, they tend to eliminate any actions that would nullify that peace. Instead, they begin to try and break the cycle of violence, as Eli named it. To break something, either physically or metaphorically, is still breaking something. The deliberate breaking of something is, in itself, an act of violence, is it not?"
"But it isn't a literal breaking!" Eve blurted, bringing up the old argument.
"No?" Mystros raised an eyebrow. "You seek to alter, change, disrupt, break a cycle of life, and that cannot be called evil because no physical objects are broken?"
"How are we breaking anything?" Xena asked, empathizing with her daughter.
"Because you are deliberately trying to alter the basic nature of mankind," Mystros replied. "You are attempting to purge him of his negative aspects. He, who breaks a thing in order to fix it, has left the path of wisdom. It's that simple."
"So?" Alexander said, completely engrossed in the debate. "The Path of Peace is based on true facts, distorted by interpretation?"
"Nearly," Mystros nodded. "It is not distorted, or changed. Merely abbreviated."
He turned and looked at Xena with a knowing smile.
"Xena," he asked. "Do you believe in the principles of the Path of Peace? That violence of any kind is not acceptable under any circumstances? It is what your daughter believed?"
Xena looked at Eve and nodded. "It was what Eli taught, and I respect that."
"Then I need not worry about you destroying me, no matter what I do," Mystros said simply. He smiled as Xena frowned.
"If you believe the principles of the Path of Peace, as taught by the Avatar, Eli, then I am safe from retribution, even if I decided to kill your brother and daughter before your eyes."
"No, you wouldn't!" Xena countered.
"Yes, he would," Alexander said, nodding his head. He fixed an understanding look on his older sister. "Yes, he definitely would."
"What?" Xena was completely astonished.
"Think about it Xe," Alexander held his hands up in front of him. "Eli taught that Peace and Love would break the Cycle of Violence, right?"
"Right?" Xena nodded.
"In order to break that cycle, then his followers had to understand that they could not resort to violence, no matter what the circumstances." Alexander continued. "Mystros, or you, or I or Eve could walk up to the Elijans and run them through at our leisure, without fear of retribution from the others, because their credo doesn't allow it!"
"By following the Path of Peace, the followers of Eli were embracing a massive contradiction." Mystros continued.
This time, Alexander paused and looked at Mystros in confusion. "Uh, I hadn't taken it that far yet?"
"Eli spoke of breaking the cycle of violence through non violent acts of demonstration, compassion and self sacrifice, yes?" Mystros asked, looking at Xena and Eve. "And therein lays the inherent contradiction."
This time all three of them looked at him, thoroughly confused.
"By the standards set down by Eli, evil is to be destroyed through non violent acts of tolerance and compassion. While I agree that a great many might be swayed by such sentiments, you still have the insane and fanatical to consider. What about those people who do not seek forgiveness and compassion? What of ones that enjoy the looting, raping, and pillaging. They revel in the carnage. I think even the most saintly of Eli's followers would agree that these souls would not only be beyond salvation, but also exceedingly dangerous?"
"That makes sense" Xena said.
"Yet, if they are cornered by such a beast, husbands would be forced to watch their wives butchered. Children are raped, murdered, or sold into slavery, and they are not permitted to do anything about it?" He fixed them all with a knowing look. "Tell me of one mother or father that could sit idly by and willingly allow their child to be condemned to a fate worse than death?"
"Yet," Mystros continued. "There before them is an evil that must be stopped, but cannot be stopped because the only actions that would stop it go against the very foundation of the belief system."
Alexander let a low whistle escape his lips.
"Now that's deep," Xena commented.
"No it isn't," Mystros replied. "It's actually very simple and shallow. It's the simplest principles intertwined by complex contradictions. IF someone knocks me down, I stand up again. If they strike me down again, I get up again, if I can. It all sounds so simple and noble. However, this interpretation never asks what the person would do if they were forced to watch a loved one brutalized or murdered? It can't afford to."
"Now," Mystros smiled. "If one follows the Path of Love, then things are quite different."
"How so, if it's the same message?" Xena asked.
"Because it is based on a universal truth," Mystros replied with a smile. "Love is, without a doubt, the most powerful force in existence. It makes weak men strong and strong men gods. It has moved mountains, conquered demons both real and imagined. Taken and saved lives."
"It's the taking part that I have a problem with, Mystros," Eve interjected.
"As well you should," He replied simply. He looked at the others earnestly. "The Way of Love teaches the same principles as the Path of Peace, with one crucial exception: It allows for the defense of one's loved ones."
He looked knowingly in Xena's eyes and smiled. "You were prepared to sacrifice yourself in the defense of your daughter, were you not?"
At this question, Xena didn't hesitate. "I was."
"You would have torn Olympus down to the foundations, killed every single God in order to protect the ones you loved, yes?"
"Without hesitation," Xena replied.
"Then you walked the Way of Love, my dear Xena." Mystros smiled. "In fact, you are still on that path, even as we speak."
"But Gabrielle followed the Way of Love, and she was not permitted to fight?" Xena countered, feeling that she had caught the demon.
Mystros merely smiled. "No, she did not. She was walking the Path of Peace, but it had been explained to her in a way similar to the Way of Love, and she was able to deduce subtler aspects of it. That was when she began walking that very fine line. She could distract and confuse, but isn't that a form of attack? She could order the troops into battle, but not raise a weapon? What is the difference between the general in the rear, and the troops on the field?"
Alexander and Xena shrugged, and Mystros's smile widened.
"In one word: Proximity." He chuckled. "She skirted that line for a long time before she was finally snapped back to where she was supposed to be. Until she truly embraced the Way of the Warrior, then, and only then, were her feet firmly planted on the proper path."
"But Gabrielle – my mom, went berserk when I was hurt," Xena countered. "She didn't just kill those soldiers, she was wild and brutal. It was as if she had lost her mind?"
"In the desert, a man dying of thirst will gorge himself upon water when he finds it, will he not?" Mystros replied. "It was the same with Gabrielle. She witnessed death and injury that she could have prevented, if she had acted, yet she made a conscious effort to restrain herself. Your injury was the final event that burst the dam, so to speak. It took a little while for the torrent to subside, and unfortunately, those poor Roman soldiers paid the price?"
"I'll say," Xena muttered.
"The thing is," Mystros continued. "Once her balance was returned, she did not resort to violence all of the time, did she?"
Xena shook her head.
Mystros smiled. "She found her path on the Way of Love, and has followed it, I suspect, to this day?"
Xena smiled as some of her fondest childhood memories came to her mind. She nodded.
Mystros smiled as well. "A gem cannot have only one facet and truly shine."
He glanced ahead at the other members of the party, moving together in a small clot ahead of them. "The Way of Love embraces many different facets, my friends. Those ahead of us are the messengers. They follow a Path of Knowledge, while I, in my own small way, follow the Path of the Healer, and the three of you, and your parents, follow the Path of the Warrior. Three different aspects following the Way of Love. The truth of the message is not in any single part, but in the whole."
"And this is where the two of us usually end up in a huge argument," Eve sighed. "And Mystros falls back on his 'child in danger' argument." Her voice faded as they abruptly bumped into the rest of the party.
Their levity faded into shock and horror as they crested the small rise and beheld the ruins of Tripolis smoldering in the shallow valley below. Thin trails of gray smoke still rose from the ashes of the village. Along the road that served as the main artery through the village, smaller blackened shapes could be seen, lying here and there, some of them still burning. The farm fields were hewn down and nothing, not even carrion birds, could be seen moving. The entire valley was dead.
"By the Gods," Alexander breathed.
They found no survivors as they moved slowly through the ruins. The air was thick with the smells of burnt wood and bodies. Nothing larger than a cat moved through the rubble.
"What could have done this?" Alexander asked as he stared down at the charred remains of two bodies. The larger, blackened mass curled over the smaller, now melted together in a sickening embrace.
Even with her knowledge and training from her previous life to draw on, Xena was hard pressed to remain detached in the face of such absolute destruction. She felt the gorge rise in her and had to force herself to remain calm.
When she looked back at Mystros, a chill ran up her spine.
He stood in the center of the holocaust, his dark eyes taking it in with an almost clinical expression on his face. There was something that was akin to curiosity, not outrage, in his eyes.
"Xe?" Alexander's voice broke through her shock.
She looked up at him, pale faced and numb with shock as he forced himself to remain detached from the nightmare. "I've looked about, and I couldn't find a single Amazon body among the dead. Granted, there isn't much left to be sure, but the Amazons never made it here to help in the defense. That means either they don't know about this, or?" he stopped when he saw the look in Xena's eyes.
"Aunt Alia," Xena whispered. She looked down the ruined street to her daughter, who was speaking quietly with Mystros.
"Eve!" She called. "Get the rest of these people out of here! Alex and I need to check on something!"
"No," Mystros replied. He looked over at the six remaining followers of Eli. "Find the nearest village and take shelter there. We are going with them."
They moved through the dense forest as quickly as the foliage would permit. Xena's eyes constantly scanned the trees above, hoping for some sign of the Amazons, but she found nothing. The wood was completely silent, as if the forest creatures were afraid to be heard.
"We should have been challenged by now," she said. She pause din a small clearing and looked about. Then she raised her hands and clasped them over her head.
There was no response to her signal. Only silence, broken by the occasional creak of the trees was their response.
Then the odor reached their nostrils. More burning death.
"No," Xena sighed in despair. The four of them ran forward towards the village.
They came to a stunned stop when they entered the clearing.
Like Tripolis, the Amazon village was in ruins. The bodies of hundreds of Amazon warriors had been thrown into a pile and set alight. The ashes were still smoldering.
Weapons lay where they had been discarded. The huts were nothing more than ashen piles of charred timbers. Tatters of banners hung limp in the still air.
As they moved around the mountain of corpses, a single figure came into view, tied to a single timber, its hands bound at the wrists.
"Alia!" Xena cried, running to the body.
She stopped before her hand touched the face of the person.
Alia hung limp, her lower body awash in crimson from several cruel slashes across her middle.
Tears stung Xena's eyes as she reached up and gently raised the face of her adopted aunt. A soft moan escaped the Amazon's lips.
"She's alive!" Xena cried with a shrillness that surprised her.
Instantly, the others were at her side as she quickly severed the bonds holding the Amazon Queen.
"Gently, now," Mystros was saying. "Slow and gentle."
They carefully lay Alia on the ground, while Eve and Xena inspected her wounds.
"She's lost a lot of blood," Eve said as some of her old Roman training reasserted itself.
Alexander was rummaging through his small travel pack, looking for something to bandage the wounds.
"Wait," Mystros said quietly. He knelt down before the dying woman and looked at her carefully. Then he looked up at Eve. "Let me?"
Eve nodded and touched Xena on the shoulder.
"Let him work, mom," she said quietly.
Reluctantly, Xena stepped back, fighting to keep her outrage in check.
Her eyes wandered across the carnage.
Mystros let his hand fall on the stricken Amazon's forehead, and his other over her heart. Then he closed his eyes in concentration.
A golden corona of energy emanated from his hands and covered the body of the wounded woman. As Alexander watched, the grievous wounds began to close.
"Whoa," he gasped. Then he turned to his sister and saw her standing a few paces away.
"Sis?" he said, stepping towards her. "You gotta see this!"
When he looked at her face, he didn't see a distraught relative, concerned for a family member. Instead, he saw the experienced general, surveying the battlefield, analyzing everything around her.
"What's wrong with this?" she asked, as if to herself.
"What isn't wrong with this?" Alexander replied.
"No," Xena answered, looking back at the healer, kneeling over the prone figure. "What's wrong with this?" She gestured towards Mystros and her daughter.
Xena looked with disgust at the pile of corpses, smoldering before them. "They went out of their way to make certain that no one survived, both here and in Tripolis, and then they just leave her hanging here? Something's wrong with this."
Alexander looked about the ruined circle as dread began to creep up his spine.
"We're being watched, Alex," Xena whispered.
"Ah, shit," Alexander replied. His hand slowly released the catch on his sword sheath.
After several minutes, Mystros rose wearily and came over to them.
"She will survive," he sighed. "She is strong, that one." He smiled. "Even after what she witnessed here."
"Did she say anything?" Xena asked.
Mystros smiled. "She only said one word. Hope."
"Hope?" Alexander asked. Then he smiled. "Well, at least she's being positive?" His relieved smile faded when he saw his sisters dawning expression.
"Hope?" Xena breathed. Her fear solidified into certainty. "We have to get out of here, right now!"
Mystros looked confused. "She's still very weak. I don't understand why we need to be in such a hurry?"
"Now!" Xena hissed.
Quickly, they lashed together a crude stretcher and lay the semi conscious queen upon it. When they lifted it and turned to depart, their hearts sank.
Standing near the ruined entrance to the village was a single figure in a dark robe, flanked on either side by several similarly hooded figures.
Steely green eyes fixed on them with predatory intensity, and a cold smile played at her lips.
"Mom?" Alexander asked in surprise.
"Well," Hope smile widened. "Isn't this a nice little family reunion?"
"Hope," Xena growled, her fingers twitching over the chakram hanging at her hip.
Alexander looked back at Xena.
"That's not mom?" he asked.
Xena's pale blue eyes hardened as she stared at her opponent. "Eve, Mystros, get Alia out of here."
"Are we about to have one of dad's 'Springer Moments'?" Alexander asked.
"Absolutely," Xena drew her sword.
Alexander also drew his weapon.
Eve and Mystros turned to make for the opposite end of the circle, only to see dozens more of the robed figures appear from the woods.
"Uh, mom?" Eve asked as she drew her chobos out.
Hope frowned, looked at the elder woman and then at the young dark haired woman standing before her. Then her eyes widened in realization and she actually laughed.
"Xena?" she asked. "Oh, isn't this delicious!" Then her mirthful smile changed into a snarl. "You're like an insect that won't die!"
"I was thinking the same thing myself," Xena growled.
"Enough of this," Hope smiled again. "Give me the healer."
"And you'll let us live?" Xena finished in a mocking tone.
"No," Hope replied. "But I promise to kill you quickly."
"Oh," Alexander said. "Gee, that makes me feel so much better!"
"Who are you?" Hope asked, giving Alexander an annoyed look.
Alex looked sidelong to Xena. "Should I tell her?"
Xena shrugged. "Do you think it would matter?"
Hope raised her arms, and dozens of concealed weapons rose into view. Swords, daggers, pikes, hatchets, and dozens of other implements of war hovered in a circle, surrounding the party.
Alexander sighed. "No, not really."
Hope looked at him expectantly.
"Well, fine," he finally said. "As much as I hate to admit it, sis. I'm your baby brother." Then he finished softly. "There's one like her in every family."
Hope stared at him for a moment, and then laughed in amusement. Then she flicked her hand and the circle of weapons shot in towards them, stopping a few inches from their targets.
Alexander fell back on the ground in surprise.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" he protested loudly. "What's with all the anxiety here? Come on!"
"Give me the healer," Hope asked again.
"Wait," Mystros said, placing a hand on Xena's shoulder and stepping before her. He stared at the small woman before him and sighed. "If you let them go, I will come with you."
"You can't!" Eve cried.
"Please!" Mystros said sharply. He smiled at her. "This is the very essence of what we spoke about?"
Hope's smile widened. "At what point did you think you had a choice?"
"You can't go with her!" Xena hissed.
"I know," Mystros replied. "But I must try this."
He turned back to Hope. "What would you prefer? An unwilling prisoner or a willing ally?"
"I fear that she will have neither, Inures," a new voice called clearly from beyond the circle of priests.
Hope turned and spied a single figure, clad in fire blue robes, trimmed in red and silver.
"And just what are you supposed to be?" she asked. Her smile faded as she felt the power emanating from this new adversary.
Mystros stared out past the circle at the new figure.
"Rakshasa," he whispered.