—OOO—
Chapter 7.
'An Amazon in the Night'
Tros had led his men some distance through the darkness further up the mountain track, and in doing so had already suffered his first casualty: one of his men had slipped on the treacherously uneven rock-strewn surface and broken his ankle. This, Tros couldn't help thinking, was not a good omen; before he remembered he didn't believe in omens.
Although outwardly he kept up his usual attitude of determination and bravado, inwardly he was less confident. Always someone who judged his chances realistically, he had no illusions about attacking an Amazon camp in the darkness; even though there were only a couple of the women warriors. Tros knew how expert, and dangerous, Amazons could be. He also knew exactly how dangerous Xena was. Something told him this ensuing phase of his plan was not going to be a walkover.
"Both of you!" Tros tapped two scruffy sailors on their shoulders with his clenched fists; the impetus just short of actual blows. "Each of you go to Ennaeus and Diokles. Tell them to stay level with me. Not to get ahead and lose contact. Go!"
"Will we hold back while those on either hand close in on the camp from the forest, sire?" A lieutenant by Tros's side was braver, or more foolhardy, than his compatriots. "Or will we dash straight in?"
"Good question." Tros merely nodded calmly, though his brow was furrowed in thought. "We go straight in. I intend to over-run Xena and her pathetic companions before they know we're anywhere near. The helmet will be with her, of course, so we shall triumph in one single move. Now, no more talking. Silence, till we near their camp."
—O—
"It was a great idea, giving Athena's helmet to Auto. Keeps it out'ta reach of Tros." Gabrielle whispered in Xena's ear, though hardly loud enough to be heard even then. "It'll be safe with him. Wonder how he's gettin' on, battling the undergrowth and creepy-crawlies?"
"Swearin' foully at both, I'd say." Xena's low harsh chuckle sounded far too loud in the absolute silence surrounding them. "Gods, it's dark. The Moon don't make much difference under these thick trees."
"That's all to the good, Xena." Gabrielle took a swift glance upwards, through the branches of the tree they crouched under. "The great thing about darkness is it seems to quadruple the number of your unseen attackers. In a short while Tros will think an entire army's attacking him—which is just what we want."
They were close enough for their bodies to touch each other, though both were more intent on listening. Nothing broke the silence around them; no animal or bird rustled in the canopy overhead, or through the bushes and ferns; there was no crunching of light-hooved feet over the dry leaf-strewn floor of the forest; only a few moths flickered round their heads for a moment before disappearing again; their flight as imperceptible as a ghost, only seeming to make the enveloping silence around them even more silent.
"At the first sign of Tros's approach you dart across the track to the opposite side." Xena was going over their plan for the umpteenth time, but better that than making a mistake. "You know the booby-traps there?"
"Course!" The Amazon allowed a note of determination to enter her voice. "I placed most of them on that side, remember? I added a few surprises my tribal-sisters showed me, when you were busy further up the track. Nothing too bad—just enough to make some of them limp for a few days."
Xena looked at her companion for a moment, with an unseen glint of respect in her dark blue eyes.
"Is this a bad—a very bad—Amazon I see beside me?"
"Too right, Princess." Gabrielle showed white teeth, in what Xena hoped was a wide smile. "In a little while that jerk Tros will discover just what being an Amazon means. An' those other jerks with him are gonna wish they'd stayed in their couch's, truckle bed's, chaise-longue's, or whatever it is they sleep on aboard ship. What we've got waiting for them'll give 'em nightmares for years, I bet!"
Far off, down the track, came a sudden break in the silence. It was nothing much; probably some awkward sailor brushing past a bush too quickly and disturbing a dry twig or branch. But it was loud enough, though still distant, to be heard distinctly by the trained ears of the waiting women.
"This is it, Gabrielle. Go!"
"Good luck,—but I know you won't need it. See you later, Xena."
There was the softest possible murmur of movement; no twigs snapped; no branches creaked; no stones rattled; but both women had disappeared in opposite directions; leaving the silence to take possession of the forest again, for the time being.
—O—
Tros, as his men edged carefully through the dark beside him, was quietly considering the next step in his plan after gaining the coveted helmet. He had thoughts of taking it to the shores of North Afric, perhaps near Lepcis Magna; thereafter to enjoy himself making rude gestures of defiance across the breadth of the Mediterranean in Rome's direction (he had simple tastes, when all was said and done).*
The moon had helped them see their way so far, but it had drawbacks. The faint silvery light had the effect of making shadows where there were no obstacles; of defining faintly a bank of fern which turned out to be impenetrable gorse; or gleaming on apparently smooth surfaces which, when stepped on, showed as rounded stones or uneven crumbling ruts. In effect the moon's light had considerably slowed his men down, as they steered around its many dangers. It was at this point that, without warning, the long-awaited action began. Tros was later to give his opinion it was not so much action as an irate Nemesis, waking up from a dream of righteous vengeance against peoples unknown, and casting retribution wholesale around her—simply because She could.
There was a sudden crackle of splintering wood; a thump; then a loud sustained scream of agony.
"Aaargh! My leg's broke. Aiiee!"
So much for surprise, Tros thought, as he darted over to his left hand where the noise came from. What met his eyes was a man crouching on the ground with one leg up to the knee in a hole which had been expertly concealed beneath scattered fern and twigs. As his friends pulled the whimpering soldier free it was obvious to all he did not exaggerate—his leg was indeed broken.
"Someone stay here with him; the rest keep a sharp eye." Tros pursed his lips tightly. "They know we're here. They've made traps for us. Keep an eye on the ground; I don't know how much further up the trail their camp is. But remember, this is the only way back out for them; we still have them trapped. Let's go."
A simple command to give, but one not easy to obey when all around you evil spirits are rising from the ground to attack viciously and without warning—at least that's what it seemed like to the suddenly distraught sailors. Being sailors they were never generally at ease on solid earth; and now this very ground appeared to have come to life and turned against them.
There was a rustling of broken twigs; a whooshing noise as some kind of missile passed overhead; and a horrible crunch as it connected with someone's head.
A sailor, this time on the right of the trail, had actually been lifted off his feet and cartwheeled in the air before crashing to the ground; an unmoving battered wreck.
"Look-out! It's coming back. Get out'ta the way."
Hearing this yell from an invisible sailor's throat everyone instinctively crouched down: everyone except Tros, who stood foursquare against this latest threat. He had leapt a few strides towards the fallen man, and saw a dark object curving through the air towards him. Leaning swiftly aside at the last moment Tros caught the thing as it whistled past, taking a step back as its impetus pulled against his grip.
"A stone!" He called out to re-assure his companions. "A stone tied onto the end of a rope, He must have set off a trigger-line across his path. Another trap. Be careful of the bushes and trees and branches from now on."
Tros could see his work intensifying considerably as they came closer to their destination. The thought passed through his mind that he had possibly under-estimated his Amazon opponents. But he had no time to reflect on this rare lapse.
—O—
Gabrielle was ensconced in a particularly thick group of bushes, watching silently as Diokles himself walked past within an arm's length, suspecting nothing. The Amazon's real interest, however, was focussed on those shuffling along behind their leader. She waited till the majority had passed then, moving with unerring swiftness, darted out to grab the legs of a straggler.
He was face down on the ground before he knew what happened; and, after a silent sharp blow to the side of his head, was quickly in no condition to think about anything for a while. His attacker slipped ghost-like away, leaving no trace, just as another sailor stumbled on the scene.
"Agrias, is that you? Get up. What in Hades! Diokles! Diokles! Man down here!"
The end-result of this little incident worked out just as Gabrielle had hoped. Diokles came back to investigate. The rest of the men, now nervous, lost that first edge of sharpness and began to mill around with their guard dropped. The outcome was never in doubt; several more booby-traps were set off in terrifying sequence.
"Crunch! Yeeaagh!"
A short thick pole, covered by loose bracken and set-off by the slightest pressure on a delicately set bark pad underfoot, sprang up from the ground and hit a man where it mattered.
"Whiiimph!"
There was an explosion of debris and loose leaves from the forest floor; a twisting silhouette; and a sailor hung by his ankles, his body swinging on the end of a rope attached to a high branch: his head barely off the ground.
"Scriinch! Aiiyee!"
Someone had found another deep concealed hole with his left leg, suffering the same result as his earlier unlucky colleague.
"Wheeeesh!"
The most dangerous trap yet was set-off by a now terrified idiot losing his mind and running full tilt through the trees towards his mates. His outflung arm brushed against a curiously-tensioned low branch as he passed by. From somewhere to his right instantly came a horrible whishing-thishing sound, and a handful of arrows shot through the trees at leg height.
Three men went down; two with arrows in their thighs, one in the shin. The sound of terrified screams, and pain-wracked cries, filled the darkness. Diokles knew in an instant his part of the advance on the Amazon camp was finished.
"Stand still. Everyone stand still, don't move anywhere!" He tried to regain control of the few men of his detachment still on their feet. "There's too many man-traps. Let's get back out of these trees onto the trail. Follow me—carefully."
Gabrielle smiled tensely as she silently slipped through the undergrowth, keeping low; passing several men within a body's length, though they never knew it: except for the last man.
"Screesh! Auurgh! Unngh."
Gabrielle had shot upright; grabbed his waist-belt and shoulder, and dragged him to the ground in an instant. A handy rock, well embedded in the ground; a tight grip on the back of his neck; and a firm thrust forward resulted in a satisfying crack. By the time, seconds later, a sailor returned to see what had happened to his mate only a motionless unconscious body was to be found. Gabrielle had disappeared, like a vengeful wraith, into the dark night. Diokles' squad had been decimated, and was now a spent force.
—O—
Ennaeus was suffering just as badly in the trees of the forest on the left of the trail. Xena was in her element. The undergrowth and low-hanging branches restricted her back-flips and forward-leaps; but she had developed a very nice line in darting through the trees; hitting an unsuspecting victim on the jaw; and disappearing swiftly. Already three sailors had suffered this undignified conclusion to their military careers; and the Warrior Princess, with a bloodthirsty grin which boded ill to anyone who crossed her path, was now slinking through the bushes intent on greater worlds to conquer. Gods, so this is what Alexander felt like!
Her speciality trap, a horizontal log tied at both ends and ready to swing down from a point high above the forest floor, was awaiting its moment; it didn't have long to wait. Xena gave one of her banshee-like screams; dashed forward to appear from nowhere beside two stragglers of the main group and cracked their heads together resoundingly. When one miraculously managed to stay on his feet she unceremoniously punched him in the gut so hard he folded like a broken twig and slumped gasping to the ground. Xena accompanied all this with a series of battle-cries intended to do exactly what they did achieve: scare the Hades out of all the remaining sailors struggling through the trees.
These men, separated from their leader Ennaeus and lost in the darkness; a darkness which seemed suddenly to be peopled by an entire tribe of ravening harpies, ran in a disorganised group towards where they thought the open trail lay. But to do so they had to negotiate a thick clump of young oaks, and here disaster awaited them. Or rather, Xena's little secret. One man, leading the throng, cried out and staggered forward; having tripped over a thin rope set barely above ground level. Several of his comrades came up with him, as he cursed and scrambled for his footing, and so they met their fate together.
There was a roar, as of a mighty storm lashing through the tree-tops; a rush of wind curiously like to a scythe laying waste in a wheat-field; and then a speeding black shadow descended from somewhere far up in the dark reaches of the highest branches. A long heavy horizontal mass, which the harassed and wholly confused sailors barely had time to recognise as a thick log swinging on two ropes, swept down hitting the group fair and square. The result was a pitiful shambles. It was a long log, and took out five men in its pendulum-like progress. They were flung into the air like puppets, to fall amongst those others beside them. Virtually the whole remaining squad collapsed in a writhing heap.
Several had broken ribs, or ankles, or heads, or arms. Those few not actually maimed were lying on the ground gasping for breath, having been knocked down by flying victims. One unfortunate sailor, clearly not a fellow of the greatest intellect, dragged himself gasping to his feet to stand tall and stolidly amongst the mayhem; intent on berating in the fullest terms his erstwhile comrades for their stupidity. At which point of course the scythe-like suspended log, having done its duty and comfortably reached its apogee, now felt it only right to confirm the Laws of Gravity and head back to its nadir. In short, the forgotten log whistled purposefully down from its highest point and took out the cursing fool and another limping idiot who had joined his comrade. One was knocked sideways amongst a patch of ridiculously prickly gorse; and the original victim, not even having time to rue his decision to stand up, was thrown through the air a good twenty-five feet into the wild heavy undergrowth; never to be seen by human eye again. The log; now obviously considering its purpose in life happily fulfilled, came to a halt on its quivering ropes amid a scene of utter devastation: and if ever a now finally inanimate object could be said to grin, that log was laughing uproariously.
—O—
Xena stood behind Ennaeus.
Though he didn't at first realise this; he was too busy peering into the impenetrable darkness of the forest from his position amidst some straggling bushes on the edge of the trail; wondering what horrendous punishments were being meted out to his men to make them scream so loudly in the lonely night. Then he made the biggest mistake of his long career; he turned round.
It is not often a man has the honour of actually facing Nemesis in person. The Goddess usually acts at a distance, causing events to overwhelm those who sustain her righteous anger. Only on rare occasions does She make a personal appearance; and now, here in the blackest night and alone, Ennaeus instantly knew he was facing his own made-to-measure Nemesis.
"Hallo darling,—Sleepy-time!"
Xena grinned malevolently as she spoke; an act which would have petrified most men into terrified immobility: but Ennaeus did have back-bone, if not technique. Gritting his teeth he threw his right fist round in a swing that had felled bigger heavier opponents than the warrior-woman in years gone by; but the years had gone by for the Greek sailor.
Xena easily parried the right-hook with her raised left arm, then carried out her special one-two-three attack. A punch to the man's forehead that stunned him instantly; another to the gut that bent him forward with a gasp of out-rushing air from his lungs; then, as he painfully tried to stand upright again, a blow to his jaw delivered with all the reserve power in her right fist. There was a horrible crack as his jaw broke, and the sustained impetus tossed him head over heels into the nearby ferns like a sack of turnips; where he lay, barely conscious, with just about as much viable intellect remaining to him as those unjustly derided vegetables.
Xena vanished into the shadows amongst the trees with a low whistle on her lips—Gods, it's so true, if ya gotta do a job, make sure ya do it right!
—O—
Tros may have been beginning to think he was being unnecessarily punished by the Gods—but he had not yet met Gabrielle in all her fury. That was just about to change.
All contact with the sailors on the right and the left of the trail had been lost. There were various crashes and screams echoing through the dark night, but no sign that his forces were succeeding against whatever odds they faced. Only the band of thirty or so sailors alongside him on the open trail still seemed to be an active group, for what that might be worth. Over the last frightening space of time Tros had considered the possibility Xena actually did have a band of Amazons with her after all; I mean, he thought, how else could all this apparent mayhem be going on—and what the Hades was happening to his sailors?
Gabrielle was a trifle, some twenty yards or so, ahead of the group of men struggling up the uneven stony trail. For a moment, as the moon gleamed from behind a cloud, she saw the tall form at the head of the shadowy group. With the speed of an antelope, and with unerring aim, she slipped a sai free from her boot and launched it silently at her target.
But luck was not on her side. An anonymous sailor, pursuing some unknown aim, stepped in front of Tros just in time to receive the long-bladed dagger in his thigh. The prongs on the weapon stopped it from penetrating deeply, but it was still damned painful; and he let everyone know this.
"Aiiiyee!"
"Fan out! Don't move in groups. Don't go in the trees." Tros tried to cover all eventualities as he crouched low, peering ahead up the trail—seeing nothing. "I don't know how many there are out there. We'll move forward, quickly. Don't go into the trees, even if you hear any of your mates calling. That's an order!"
Gabrielle, in this short interval, had slipped nearer. As the advance guard of the frightened men passed she leaned out from the protection of a thick bush and grabbed the waist-belt of a straggler on the edge of the group. To his mates he seemed to vanish as if taken by a God; two men cried out and, instinctively disregarding their leader's orders, jumped into the undergrowth where they had last glimpsed their mate. The leading sailor saw a motionless form lying on the ground an instant before something very heavy connected with the side of his head: he didn't see anything else for several hours afterwards. The second man, brought up short by the sudden collapse of his companion, only vaguely registered a short figure materialising right in front of him. Before he could react a swiftly moving shape came in from his left and Gabrielle's well-aimed punch took him down like a felled ox. Gods, she and her perfectly-honed shoulder muscles knew how to deliver a real blow when it was most needed: then,—she wasn't there anymore. When an angry Tros sprinted over to the scene all that remained were scattered unconscious bodies.
—O—
Xena, having completed her short but highly enjoyable rampage in the trees on the left, now sped through the undergrowth to come out behind the dis-organised men struggling on the open trail. Something was up, causing harsh shouted orders to reverberate along the barely seen track and echo back from the depths of the encroaching forest. Xena crept up to the rear of the now irregularly grouped men. Their concentration was wholly directed ahead, so her task was easy.
She stepped up behind a somewhat isolated group; grabbed their necks and head-butted two men together; punched another, standing to the left, on the jaw; bent down to let an approaching opponent from the other side fall over her; then jumped into the air in a expertly-timed forward flip, her boots kicking no less than three men's heads as she passed overhead. Crashing to the ground beside four others she took advantage of their absolute shock to punch one in the gut, with intent; thump a second with a clenched fist on top of his head, dropping him like a broken doll; haul another's arm round behind his back in a move which dis-located his shoulder, as evidenced by the resulting scream; then took time out to grin savagely in the face of a young sailor, the only survivor. He didn't survive long; Xena grabbed his shoulders and gave him an Amazon kiss—a head-butt forehead to forehead—which laid him out straight like a tree falling in the forest: that youngster, on recovering, never could abide tall dark-haired women for the rest of his life!
By the time Tros reached the rear of his group to bring help there was, again, only the debris of a past battle to be seen. He gritted his teeth in frustration, realising that things had gone from bad to worse; and trying to remember what necessarily followed at this point in a disaster. He was just about to find out.
—O—
Gabrielle, meanwhile, had run back up the trail and was now standing beside the waiting Juggernaut of Retribution which had earlier been the abandoned wagon. She checked the brake-blocks on the rear wheels were set correctly, then stood listening intently to the ongoing cries, crashes, and screams coming from lower down the trail. What she was awaiting was the signal from Xena that Tros, and his remaining sailors, were in the best position for the final assault. The wagon, though slightly decrepit, was still strong enough to withstand this its final brave act in life.
Out of the echoing night suddenly came a cacophony of cries and shrieks, followed by indeterminate sounds; mainly thumps and the crashing of destroyed undergrowth and bushes as a minor battle carried on unseen in the dark shadows. Then came the signal. Gabrielle grinned widely as the unmistakable sustained cry of an ecstatically triumphant Warrior-Princess rent the night air.
"Alalalalalaeeee!"
Bending in one fluid movement Gabrielle dragged the brake-blocks free, and jumped hastily aside. Without a moment's pause the wagon trundled down the trail gaining an amazing amount of speed over the uneven rutted earth as it went, considering the heavy load of branches and boulders Xena and Gabrielle had managed to load onto it. It passed from the blonde Amazon's sight like an avenging Demon rushing to smite it foes, then for what seemed an eternity there was almost silence.
"Crash! Sceeech! Aiyee! Aaarrgh! Eeeyai! "
The sound as the rolling vehicle met its demise was like a volcano erupting. The first massive thump as it impacted the still closely-grouped sailors was followed by the tearing sound of wood and axles and wheels ripping apart in a whirl of destruction. Then there came a fading rumble as the debris scattered further down the trail or into the surrounding trees and undergrowth. It was only after this the cries of the wounded and of the survivors began echoing up to where Gabrielle stood; and from the sustained level of the whimpers and moans now easily audible Gabrielle recognised the success of the late wagon's achievement. Tros's assault force was now a broken reed.
The blonde Amazon, a slight smile hovering round her lips, slipped into the dark depths under the trees. She knew exactly the direction to take that would allow her to meet up again with Xena, further into the impenetrable forest. Then a short walk would bring them to the other trail, a parasang or so further on, which would lead back down onto the now safe road to Pergamum. The road where they could catch up with Autolycus, and the helmet of Athena.
"Gods," Gabrielle thought, wiping a light sweat from her brow as she moved swiftly onwards under the arching branches overhead, "I wonder if Xena enjoyed this as much as I did?"
—O—
Notes: —
1. Lepcis Magna—or, Leptis Magna. Originally Carthagian, it later came under the rule of the Roman Empire, though remaining nominally independent. The city is located on the north coast of Libya, and still boasts one of the most spectacular and unspoilt groups of Roman ruins to be found in the Mediterranean.
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