Thanks for your feedback on the first chapter! I apologize for the length of time between updates. I'm trying to finish 2 or 3 chapters this week to make up for it.


The sky was growing light on the fringes of the world. The rain had let up several hours ago, and the horses churned up the muddied ground as they walked. If anyone were looking for two fugitives from Pella, they would not find it a difficult chase—the trail was painted plainly into the countryside, but there was nothing to be done about that. So far Gabrielle and Kyros had neither seen nor heard any sign of riders in pursuit, and that was fortunate indeed.

Gabrielle stifled a yawn and glanced over at Kyros. The boy's eyelids were drooping worse than hers and his clothing was soaked, but he hadn't uttered a single complaint all night. Gabrielle suspected that if they pressed on all day, he would fall asleep in the saddle rather than ask for a rest.

"Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"

"Hm?" Kyros looked at her with bleary, half-aware eyes. "Oh, yeah. Just tired."

"I know. Me too, but we should go a little further."

They had ridden all night. Gabrielle hadn't dared to pause until they'd put several leagues between themselves and the keep, and even now she refused to let herself look back. Whatever her relationship was with the Conqueror—adversarial, respectful, or even tentatively friendly—it didn't matter anymore. She had to concern herself with the present, not the past, and that meant keeping her eyes on the road. She and Kyros had made it out of the city, and that was certainly an achievement, but now they had to disappear. The muddy footprints weren't helping their cause any.

"Gabrielle?"

She blinked. "Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

It was a good question, and truthfully she wasn't sure of the answer. Gabrielle hadn't planned for this part. Maybe she'd been too focused on the immediate escape to worry about the aftermath, or maybe she hadn't believed they'd actually get this far. Whatever the reason, she hadn't considered where they could go once they were free. Potidaea had been an early option, but by Xena's own admission, the army had been there first. Gabrielle and Kyros needed to hide somewhere where they would be protected from the Conqueror's soldiers, and they couldn't take the risk of fleeing somewhere familiar only to be surrounded by Xena's sworn swords. The quickest way to get out of range was to ride south, but that was only a direction, not a destination.

"Gabrielle?" Kyros repeated her name and she started, realizing that she hadn't answered him.

"Somewhere safe," she replied vaguely. "Don't worry about it. Look, see that stand of trees? We can camp there for a few hours and get some sleep."

After they'd tethered the horses they discarded their wet soldier's garb in favor of the spare clothes from the saddelbag. Dry at last, the two fugitives curled up in their cloaks to rest. Kyros, worn out by the night's events, fell asleep at once. Gabrielle was tired too, but while her body was ready to collapse, her mind refused to calm, churning half-formed thoughts around like butter. Xena's pained whisper of disbelief seemed to echo in her ears, sending a chill through her body that had nothing to do with temperature. Freedom wasn't a privilege, it was a right—Gabrielle was certain of that fact. But if that were true, and if justice was so definitive, so black-and-white, then why did it feel like she'd done something wrong?

Gabrielle clutched the folds of the cloak within her fists and drew the garment snuggly around her body, as an image of the Conqueror came unbidden to her mind. Those eyes had been so cold at Gabrielle's sentencing; yet at times that gaze also held uncertainty, even deep sadness at the recollection of the past. It was easy to attribute the insensitivity to the Conqueror and the humanity to Xena, but the two personalities were not mutually exclusive. In fact they were inseparable, flawed and confused, fundamentally intertwined to form one woman—the woman whose trust Gabrielle had cultivated and then inadvertently trampled.

This understanding clutched at her heart and she squeezed her eyes shut, begging for sleep to still the chaos within her. Only when the sun had crested the western mountains did Gabrielle sleep, and if she thought waking life was murky enough, the fog of dreams was yet more nebulous.

...

She didn't have to open her eyes to know where she was—the evidence was all around her, manipulating her senses. Gabrielle stretched her arms out until her hands were waist-high and the grass reached toward them with a gentle caress. A melody wove its way across the field, the words indistinct; but it was the voice that mattered, deep and rich as the earth itself, the song of a woman who had worked so long in the fields that she had become inseparable from them. Her children were made and born and worked on this stretch of land as shepherds, and their children in turn played among the sheep. The sun bleached their hair as it scorched the tips of the grass, and they dripped perspiration where they danced, mingling their sweat with the earth.

But there was a smell—not the gradual rot of loam, but something sweet, almost cloying—that hung heavy in the air around her. It wasn't the fertility of the fields. It was death, death and blood.

Gabrielle's eyes opened and she retracted her hands in horror, clutching them against her chest. All around her were bloodless bodies. Some lay facedown in the grass, while others stared skyward with unseeing eyes. Gabrielle could feel the bile rising in her throat, and she clapped a hand to her mouth and nose in order to seal out the foul air. As she fought to keep her composure she heard a voice, full of anguish and desperation.

"Lyceus…"

This wasn't Potidaea. This was Amphipolis. It was Xena's home, and Xena's nightmare.

Gabrielle began to run, clutching at her skirts as she tore through the field. The grass that had tickled her so gently before now raked at her skin, leaving tiny little cuts along her exposed flesh. The wail of grief rose once more, and she followed the sound of it until she found the girl slumped over her brother's body, clutching his head to her breast. This was Xena, but not the woman Gabrielle had come to know. This Xena was a thin-armed adolescent with braids in her hair and blood on her shirt.

Gabrielle reached out slowly, brushing her fingertips against Xena's shoulder. The young woman flinched and jerked away, snarling. Her face turned to look at Gabrielle's, the eyes fever-bright with rage—but beneath that anger were the etchings of a heartache greater than any Gabrielle had ever known, the sort of grief that can drown a person in its torrent. She was falling, plummeting into those eyes and the sea of their misery, until she could feel the coldness of it cutting at her heart. With a strangled cry Gabrielle pulled away, and found that she was trembling.

"Gabrielle?" Kyros was leaning over her, his hand curled around her shoulder. Her breath was coming short and fast, but to her great relief the air was clear, with no hint of the decay of death.

"You were dreaming." It was not a question. Gabrielle swallowed, dry-mouthed, and nodded. "Are you alright?" Beneath the dark tangle of his hair, the boy's forehead was heavily creased.

She gave him a strained smile and lifted herself onto her elbows. The images of her dream were already slipping away, and it wouldn't do to concern him with the burdens of her own conscience. "I'm fine," she assured him, shaking off the cloak and getting to her feet. "How long were we asleep?"

Kyros glanced skyward. "I'm not sure. It's late afternoon, I think."

"What?" Gabrielle leapt to her feet with a yelp of dismay, and immediately began collecting the now-dry clothes they'd laid out early that morning. "We were supposed to be on the road again by now! Why didn't you wake me?" She paused from her frantic packing long enough to glance at Kyros, who shrugged.

"You were tired," he said simply. "You needed the sleep."

Gabrielle opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it as her anger dissipated. How could she be mad at him? The delay might have cost them valuable time, but his intent was to do her a kindness.

"We need to move right away," she urged. "We can get rid of some of these supplies and things we don't need, to lighten the load."

"But you don't even know where we're going," Kyros reminded her, no doubt recalling her less-than-comforting response when he'd posed the question earlier.

"I didn't," she admitted, "but I do now."