Chapter 6: Lost in the Shadows
Xena stood in the forest as the early morning sun broke through the dense canopy of trees, casting light over her recruits gathered in formation. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and the rhythmic thud of boots against the dirt as the men ran drills. Their movements, once clumsy and chaotic, now carried a sense of discipline and purpose.
She watched them closely with her arms crossed. Her leather armor gleamed faintly in the sunlight, and her sword rested against her hip, its presence a constant reminder of who she was—and what she demanded of them.
One man stumbled slightly during a sparring match and Xena's sharp whistle cut through the air. The recruits froze, turning their attention to her.
"Is that how you plan to fight?" she called out, her voice cold and commanding. "Because if it is, you might as well hand your sword to your enemy and beg for mercy."
The man who had stumbled straightened, his face reddening with embarrassment. "No, ma'am," he muttered. Xena's eyebrow arched sharply.
"Ma'am? Do I look older than you?"
The recruit's eyes widened with panic, and he quickly stammered, "No, Xena. I mean, Xena."
Xena walked forward, her boots crunching against the dirt. She stopped in front of him and fixed her sharp eyes on his. "Then show me. Again."
The recruit swallowed hard, nodding quickly as he turned back to his opponent. Their swords clashed with fresh intensity and the sound echoed through the space. Xena watched closely, nodding slightly as the man corrected his stance and held his ground.
"That's better," she said, her tone begrudgingly approving. "Now keep it up." She moved through the ranks, correcting stances, demonstrating techniques, and sparring with them herself. When one particularly cocky recruit challenged her, she knocked him flat in three swift moves, the tip of her sword pressing against his throat.
"If you try that again," she said, her voice dangerously low, "I'll make sure it's the last thing you ever do." The other recruits exchanged uneasy glances and their respect for her grew with each display of her skill. Xena sheathed her sword, her gaze sweeping over them.
"You're improving," she said, her tone firm but less harsh. "But you're not there yet. Strength alone won't win battles. You need discipline, strategy, and loyalty. If any of you think you can't keep up, leave now. There's no shame in admitting you're not cut out for this."
The quiet lingered over the open forest floor. No one moved. Xena smirked faintly. "Good. Then let's get back to work."
After a few hard-working hours later, the men gathered together. their bodies glistening with sweat from the grueling training session. They formed a rough semicircle around Xena, who stood at the center with a map spread across a table in front of her. Her sharp eyes scanned the faces of her recruits, gauging their readiness.
"You've done well," she began, her tone calm but commanding. "But skill alone isn't enough. If we're going to be unstoppable, we need the right weapons and gear."
A murmur spread through the group as the men exchanged curious glances. One of the recruits, Phelon, the tall one with the scar, had become a sort of unofficial spokesperson. "And how exactly are we supposed to get that, Xena? We don't have the funds for weapons, let alone armor."
Xena's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "We're not paying for it." The murmurs stopped, leaving the forest in silence as the men looked at each other, waiting for her to explain.
Xena tapped a spot on the map with her finger, drawing their attention. "There's a village here," she said. "Small, but wealthy enough to have what we need. We're going to pay them a visit."
"What kind of visit?" another recruit asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and excitement.
Xena's eyes glinted. "The kind where they either give us what we're asking for, or we take it." A low chuckle rippled through the group as the men glanced at each other, their expressions changing to cunning smiles. They liked the sound of that.
Phelon nodded, stepping closer to the map. "What if they resist?"
Xena stood taller, her gaze icy and firm. "Then we show them why resistance is a mistake. We kill them all." Her lips curled into a dangerous smirk, her eyes scanning the faces of the men before her. The wild gleam in her eyes sent a shiver down their spines. The open space grew quiet, her words lingering and pressing on everyone present. Slowly, a ripple of approval spread among the men, their smirks mirroring hers as they exchanged glances. They had no doubts now—they were following a leader who wouldn't hesitate, who demanded results.
She tilted her head slightly, her dark hair falling over one shoulder as she looked at their grinning faces. She drew her sword in one motion, the blade catching the light as she pointed it at the nearest recruit.
"When the time comes, there will be no mercy. Not for them. Not for anyone who stands in my way." They nodded, their earlier whispers fading into silence. They were ready.
"Good," Xena said, turning away. "Rest up tonight. Tomorrow, we move. Dismissed."
The men dispersed, their anticipation clear as they prepared for what was ahead. Xena lingered for a moment, the faintest trace of satisfaction in her eyes as she watched her army come together, ready to follow her lead.
Xena stood by the table, rolling up the map with care, her thoughts already racing ahead to the raid.
"Xena," a voice interrupted, low and cautious. She glanced up to see Phelon lingering. His expression was unreadable.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone flat, though her sharp gaze pinned him in place.
"I thought you'd want to know about a target. A better one." Xena arched her eyebrow, intrigued but silent, waiting for him to continue.
"There's a warlord a few villages over," he said, his voice dropping slightly. "Name's Tharxes. He's been bleeding the region dry for years. Armor, weapons, food—all of it stockpiled in his main camp."
Xena's grip on the map tightened slightly. "Go on."
Phelon nodded, encouraged by her interest. "His men are well-armed, ruthless. They take what they want and leave nothing behind but bodies. But they're not invincible." He smirked faintly, his voice carrying a hint of confidence. "A force like ours, led by someone like you, could crush them."
"And what's in it for you?" Xena asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.
He shrugged, his smirk fading. "Tharxes burned my village years ago. Took everything. Left my family with nothing." His voice hardened, his jaw tightening. "He's a plague, Xena. If we take him down, not only do we get what we need, but you'll send a message to everyone who doubts you."
Xena's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. "And you think his stronghold is worth the risk?"
"I know it is," he replied firmly. "Tharxes hoards enough weapons and armor to outfit an army twice our size. If we want to grow stronger, he's the one to take down."
Xena stared at him for a moment, her mind working quickly. The idea was bold, risky—but it had potential. If they succeeded, the rewards would be immense. If they failed...well, failure wasn't an option.
"Show me where," she commanded, unrolling the map and spreading it out again.
Phelon walked closer to her, pointing to a location marked by a crude drawing of a fortress. "Here. His main camp. It's surrounded by woods, which makes it easier to approach without being seen. But it's heavily guarded, day and night."
Xena nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the map. "Good. This is the kind of opportunity I've been waiting for."
Phelon stood taller, his face lighting up with enthusiasm. "When do we move?"
"Not yet," Xena replied, her tone firm. "I need more information. His numbers, his weaknesses. We'll strike when the time is right—and not a moment before."
Phelon nodded, stepping back as Xena rolled up the map once more. "I'll see what else I can find out."
Xena didn't reply, her mind already plotting their next move. As Phelon turned and walked away, she smiled softly. The pieces were falling into place.
Phelon's words echoed in her mind as she stood there alone. She unrolled the map again, her eyes narrowing as they settled on the crude sketch of Tharxes' main camp. If his hoard was even half as large as claimed, taking it would be a gamechanger. But she wasn't foolish enough to charge in without knowing what she was up against.
Xena tilted her head back, studying the fading sunlight. She estimated she had a few hours before nightfall, just enough time to scout the warlord's camp. A sly smile tugged at her lips. She thrived in the shadows, unseen and untouchable.
Rolling up the map, she tucked it into her satchel and adjusted the leather straps of her armor. She scanned the tree line, ensuring no one was watching her departure. Borias wouldn't question her absence; he'd grown used to her coming and going. For now, she needed to keep her plans to herself.
She moved swiftly, her steps silent against the forest floor as she guided her horse deeper into the woods. Phelon's description of the main camp had been clear enough to point her in the right direction, but she'd need to approach carefully. A careless step or a snapping twig could cost her everything.
As the trees thinned, she dismounted, tying her horse to a low branch. The distant sound of men laughing and shouting carried through the forest. Xena crouched low, her eyes scanning the area ahead. The scent of smoke from campfires drifted towards her, confirming she was close.
She crept forward, her body low to the ground, every sense heightened. The main camp came into view—a fortified encampment surrounded by thick wooden walls. Torches lined the perimeter, casting flickering light across the guards who patrolled with lazy confidence.
Xena settled behind a cluster of bushes, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. She counted at least two dozen men, heavily armed, though their movements suggested they weren't expecting trouble. Her gaze lingered on the main gate, where a pair of guards stood leaning against their spears, chatting casually.
Her attention shifted to the supply tents near the center of the camp. Stacks of crates and barrels were visible even from her distance. Weapons, armor, food—it was all there, just as Phelon had said. She couldn't help the faint smirk that formed on her lips. If they pulled this off, her army wouldn't just be stronger—they'd be unstoppable.
Her smirk faded as her eyes narrowed. Among the men, one stood taller and broader than the rest, his voice loud and commanding. Even without an introduction, Xena knew he was Tharxes. The warlord moved with an air of authority, barking orders and laughing as if the world belonged to him. For now, it did.
Xena stayed hidden, her mind taking in every weakness she could spot—the gaps in the patrols, the overconfidence of the guards, the exposed location of the supply tents. She'd seen enough to start forming a plan, but she'd need more. A direct attack wasn't feasible yet; her recruits were skilled but untested in large-scale combat. They'd need strategy to balance the odds.
With the last light of day fading into darkness, Xena retraced her steps, her movements silent like a shadow. She untied her horse and mounted quickly, her mind racing with possibilities. The main camp wasn't impenetrable, but it would require cunning and precision to bring it down.
Xena guided her horse through the dark forest while her mind raced. She replayed the camp's layout in her head—every tent, every guard post, every weak spot she could exploit. She knew she could take it down, but her thoughts kept drifting to Borias.
If Borias was with her now, if they were still the team they used to be, they could have crushed Tharxes easily. Together, they'd once been unstoppable—a pair that left empires shaking. She could almost picture it: Borias cutting through enemies with his usual precision while she struck with sharp, calculated force. They would've wiped the camp out in no time.
But no. Borias wasn't that man anymore. He'd turned his back on who he truly was. A warrior. A leader. Instead, he hid behind the idea of family and home, convincing himself he didn't want the same things she did. Xena frowned. What was he trying to prove? That he was better than her? That he wasn't driven by the same hunger for power?
She tightened her grip on the reins, her jaw clenching. She knew who she was, and she didn't run from it. She embraced it. If Borias wanted to pretend he was someone else, that was his choice. But she wasn't about to let anyone hold her back—not him, not Tharxes, not anyone.
The steady rhythm of her horse's hooves echoed through the forest, comforting her. She exhaled slowly, her determination sharpening. If Borias didn't want to stand beside her, fine. She would handle it herself. She would take what she wanted, crush anyone in her way, and make sure the world remembered the name Xena.
By the time Xena returned home, the moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light over the house. She dismounted quietly, tying her horse to the post and slipping inside without a sound. The soft crackle of the fire in the hearth greeted her, along with the sight of Borias sitting near it, sharpening his blade. His eyes moved up to meet hers, filled with irritation and relief.
"Back late again," he muttered, his tone sharp but quiet enough not to wake the children.
Xena ignored him, brushing past and heading straight for the table. She laid out the rolled-up map, spreading it out carefully. Her sharp eyes traced the path she'd taken through the woods and the layout of the warlord's central compound. Every gap, every weakness—it was all there, waiting to be exploited.
She felt Borias' presence before he spoke. "What's so important it keeps you out until this hour?"
Xena's jaw tightened, but she didn't look up. "Nothing you'd understand. Not anymore."
Borias sighed, his voice filled with frustration. "You can't keep running off like this, Xena. You have a family here. We deserve more than scraps of your time."
Xena finally lifted her gaze, her eyes cold. "I give you enough. More than you deserve."
Borias clenched his jaw but said nothing, turning back to the fire. Xena turned her attention back to the map, her fingers tracing the route to the central compound. Phelon's words echoed in her mind again: "You'll send a message to everyone who doubts you." Her lips curled into a ruthless grin. Yes, she would. But first, she needed to plan every detail perfectly.
The early morning air was cool and still, the small house standing quietly in the open area where Borias had poured so much of his effort. Inside, the day was already chaotic. Solan was up, running around with sticks he had collected, waving them in the air like swords. Bellexa fussed in her crib, her tiny cries making Borias' already aching head throb.
One of Solan's sticks clattered dangerously close to Bellexa's crib, making her tiny cries grow louder as the noise startled her. Borias sighed, stepping over and kneeling to pick up Solan, who laughed and wriggled in his arms.
"Alright, little warrior, let's keep those swords away from your sister," he said, carrying him to the other side of the room. He set Solan down near a small pile of firewood, handing him a shorter stick. "Here, this one's safer. Play over here." Solan happily took the stick, immediately resuming his pretend battle.
Borias shook his head and moved to Bellexa's crib. He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. Her small hands clutched at his shirt, her cries quieting as he rocked her. "It's just us, my little one," he murmured, glancing towards the door. Xena had left before dawn again. He didn't need to ask where she was going—he knew she wouldn't tell him anyway.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of tasks. Borias prepared breakfast, setting plates on the table. He balanced Solan on one knee while feeding Bellexa, her tiny hands grabbing at his shirt. Once they finished, he turned his attention to cleaning up the mess Solan had left behind. By midday, his patience was wearing thin. He stepped outside with Solan, sitting on a bench while the toddler played in the dirt with his sticks. The sun was high, and Borias' eyes drifted to the woods where Xena had disappeared earlier. "Where are you, Xena?" he muttered under his breath, his frustration rising.
The midday's heat had started to calm, leaving a cool breeze to weave through the forest. Borias stretched his back, his muscles sore from a day of chores. Solan played nearby, giggling as he stacked rocks into a precarious tower, while Bellexa slept soundly in her cradle.
Borias glanced toward the shed where he and Xena kept their gear. It was a simple wooden box with a heavy latch. He hadn't opened it in weeks since he rarely used his own armor anymore. Something about it caught his attention now. He couldn't explain why, but the thought nagged at him.
He looked over at Solan, who was playing with sticks nearby. The toddler laughed as he swung them through the air like tiny swords. Borias took a deep breath and walked toward the box. Solan was close enough that Borias could still keep an eye on him.
When he reached the shed, he noticed something immediately. The latch was loose and hanging open. It hadn't been closed properly. His brow creased as he leaned down to take a closer look.
He lifted the lid carefully and scanned the contents. His armor and weapons were still inside, untouched and stacked just as he had left them. On the other side of the box, Xena's gear was missing. Her armor, her weapons, and even the small daggers she always kept hidden were gone.
Borias frowned and ran his hand over the empty space where her belongings should have been. Xena wasn't careless, and she never misplaced her gear. If it wasn't here, it wasn't because she'd misplaced it. She was using it.
He stood up slowly, his chest tightening as realization set in. Images flashed through his mind—Xena slipping out of the house before dawn, the faint bruises on her knuckles he'd noticed a few days ago, her steely silence when he'd asked where she'd been. It all started to make sense. She wasn't just sneaking off for rides or walks to clear her head. She was planning something—something dangerous.
Borias glanced back at Solan, who was still playing happily, completely unaware of his father's growing unease. Borias' jaw tightened as worry crept over him. If Xena was putting herself in danger, it was one thing. But what if her actions put their children at risk too? What if the trouble she was stirring followed her home?
His hands curled into fists as frustration and anger built inside him. He couldn't ignore this any longer. He needed to confront her and find out what she was doing. But as much as he wanted answers, he couldn't shake the fear of what she might tell him.
With a sharp motion, he slammed the lid shut, the sound echoing across their small homestead. The latch rattled, and the force of the action sent a shiver up his arm.
"She thinks this is some game," he muttered under his breath, pacing a few steps before stopping. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear in every tense movement. "Does she even think about what this could mean for the children? For us?"
The sight of the unfinished house, with tools and wood scattered around, made his anger simmer hotter. He'd been working endlessly to give them a stable life, while Xena was out... doing what exactly? His fists tightened again at the thought.
Shaking his head, Borias stomped back toward the house and grabbed his hammer. The planks wouldn't build themselves, and maybe the physical labor would keep him from spiraling further into his thoughts. He swung the hammer with more force than necessary, the loud pounding echoing off the surrounding trees.
The sun dipped lower in the sky and Borias paused to wipe sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. His shoulders and back ached after hours of hauling lumber and hammering planks. He heard the sounds of his children's cries and laughter from inside the house, making him feel guilty for a moment. Then, Lexa's sharp wail pierced the air, louder than before, demanding his attention. He dropped the hammer and sighed heavily. His steps felt heavy as he made his way to the house.
"Lexa," Borias murmured, his tone softening as he lifted her from her cradle. Her little fists waved in the air, her cries subsiding slightly as he rocked her against his chest.
Solan toddled closer, tugging at Borias' pant leg. "Papa," he said, holding up his stick. "Play?"
"Not now, Solan," Borias said, his voice strained. "Maybe later."
"Stick," Solan insisted, his face scrunching into a pout.
"Go play outside for a bit, okay? Stay where I can see you." Borias nudged him gently towards the door. Solan waddled out happily, clutching his stick. Borias sighed and sat down on a stool, cradling Lexa in one arm while grabbing a bottle from the nearby table.
"Alright, sweetheart, let's see if this helps." He tilted the bottle, watching her tiny hands instinctively grasp at it as she began to feed. Her eyes drooped slowly, her fussing turning into soft, steady breaths.
Once she drifted off in his arms, Borias held his breath and carefully stood, moving toward the cradle. He placed her down as gently as he could and felt his shoulders relax when she stayed asleep. He grabbed a nearby blanket and laid it over her, then stepped out of the room quietly to return to his work.
The ladder clattered to the ground as Borias struggled to juggle his tasks. He had managed to get Lexa to nap for all of ten minutes before her cries started again, forcing him to stop working once more. His frustration grew with every passing second.
"Xena, where are you?" he muttered under his breath, pacing the room with Lexa in his arms. "This is your family too."
Suddenly, he realized everything had gone silent—too silent. "Solan?" he called from the doorway, his voice echoing through the trees. He stepped outside, his eyes scanning the area, but there was no sign of his son.
"Solan!" he called again, louder this time. Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the edge of the forest. He set Lexa down in her cradle, hurrying towards the woods. "Solan, answer me!"
His heart pounded as he ran through the trees, his worried eyes darting between the shadows. Branches snapped and the evening air seemed to close in around him. His son was nowhere in sight.
"Damn it," he muttered. Each step felt heavier than the last as the memory of Solan's kidnapping clawed its way to the front of his mind. It had only been a few months since that stressful day. Xena had been in labor with Lexa when Satrina had betrayed them. She had taken Solan and fled, leaving Borias to fend off attackers while trying to save Xena.
"Not again," Borias whispered hoarsely, gripping a tree for support. His chest heaved as he fought to suppress the rising panic. The thought of losing Solan again made his legs feel weak.
"Solan!" he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation as he plunged deeper into the woods. His breathing quickened as the vivid memories overtook him...
Lexa's tiny mouth latched onto Xena as she tried to nurse, the baby's breaths shallow but steady. Xena rested her head against the cave wall, exhaustion settling over her. She cradled her daughter close, her muscles aching and her fury burning bright. This wasn't random. Dagnine hadn't stumbled onto their tent by chance. No, someone had led him there, someone who knew exactly where to find them. Xena's grip tightened around Lexa as a single name filled her mind like venom: Satrina.
She turned her gaze toward Borias, who paced the cave, his hand gripping his sword hilt so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he muttered under his breath. Finally, he stopped and looked at her. "How's she doing? And you?" he asked, his voice strained but steady.
Xena adjusted Lexa in her arms, her eyes dark with anger. "We're fine," she replied, her tone short. "Go."
Borias knelt beside her, his hand reaching out to brush against Lexa's tiny head before locking eyes with Xena. Her fury mirrored his own. "I swear to bring him back," he said firmly.
Before he could stand up, Xena's grip shot out, wrapping around his wrist. "When you find Satrina," she said, her voice low and deadly, "tell her she'll see me again—when I'm placing her head on a pike right next to Dagnine's."
Borias nodded, leaning in to kiss her quickly before standing and grabbing his gear. "I'll bring him back," he promised, his voice heavy with conviction. He didn't wait for her reply before stepping out of the cave.
The forest was eerily quiet as Borias made his way back toward the site of their tent. His boots crunched against the underbrush, every sound amplified in the stillness. When he finally reached the location, his heart sank. The tent was in shambles, their belongings scattered everywhere. He stepped inside cautiously, his eyes scanning for anything useful.
He spotted the chest that held Xena's clothes and knelt in front of it, prying it open. Most of the items were gone, but he knew better. Xena had a habit of being prepared for betrayal. He lifted the false bottom of the chest and exhaled in relief. The gold and jewelry were still there. He grabbed the entire chest and carried it out, loading it onto their wagon along with anything else of importance he could find. They weren't coming back here. This place was compromised.
Once he secured the wagon under the cover of dense trees, Borias turned his attention to the tracks leading away from the campsite. His eyes followed the trail closely. "I'll find you, Solan," he muttered under his breath.
The trail led Borias straight to Dagnine's camp. He crouched low, his eyes scanning the area from a safe distance. A cluster of tents surrounded a central firepit, where several men lounged, drinking and sharpening weapons. Borias' stomach tightened as he circled the camp, searching for any sign of Solan—or Satrina.
Nothing. Neither of them was here.
He leaned back against a tree, pressing his hands into his eyes. His mind raced. If Satrina wasn't here with Dagnine, then where in Tartarus had she gone?
Movement caught Borias' attention, and his hand instinctively went to his sword. A man stumbled out of one of the larger tents, grumbling as he adjusted his belt. Borias froze when he heard the man's slurred words: "That woman was crazy. Sellin' a warlord's kid like he's a damn sheep."
Borias' blood ran cold. He gritted his teeth and stepped closer, keeping to the shadows as he listened.
"Did she say where she was takin' him?" another man asked from the fire, his tone casual.
"Nah," the first man replied, shrugging. "Didn't ask. Wasn't my problem. Just know she got her coin and was gone before we even finished drinkin'."
Borias' hands shook with rage as the realization hit him. Satrina had sold Solan—his son—to someone else. His breathing quickened, his vision blurring at the edges. He had to get more information. Steeling himself, he moved back towards the campfire, ready to do whatever it took to find out where Satrina had gone.
He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword. Satrina's betrayal stung worse than any wound he'd ever suffered, but the thought of Solan—his innocent, defenseless son—in the hands of strangers was what fueled the fire inside him. He forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't let his rage consume him, not now. Solan needed him to think clearly, to act with precision.
He crouched lower, observing the camp carefully. The men's guard was down, laughter and drunken chatter filling the air as they lounged around the fire. But Borias wasn't here to fight them—not yet. First, he needed answers. Slipping silently through the shadows, Borias crept closer to the man who had mentioned Solan. He waited until the man staggered slightly away from the fire, muttering something about needing to relieve himself. Borias followed with quiet steps and focused movements. As soon as they were far enough from the others, he struck.
His hand clamped over the man's mouth as he shoved him against a tree with his blade pressed firmly against the man's throat. The drunken haze in the man's eyes vanished instantly, changing to wide-eyed terror.
"You're going to tell me everything you know," Borias growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where is the boy?"
The man struggled weakly, but Borias pressed harder, the tip of his blade nicking the skin just enough to draw blood. "Answer me!" Borias hissed.
"The—kid!" the man stammered, his words slurred but frantic. "She—she took him north. To the trading post. Sold him to a merchant—name's...Creston! That's all I know, I swear!"
Borias' heart pounded in his chest. North. The trading post. He couldn't afford to waste a single moment. With a final warning glare, he released the man, who crumpled to the ground, clutching his neck and gasping for air. Borias didn't wait to see if he would recover. He melted back into the shadows, making his way toward the wagon.
Borias raced to the trading post, his heart pounding as he pushed forward. It wasn't far—less than an hour's ride from their camp—but each minute stretched unbearably long as thoughts of Solan consumed him.
When the outpost came into view, he slowed his horse, scanning the area. It was smaller than he expected, just a cluster of tents and wagons arranged in an open space. Merchants and buyers milled about, exchanging goods and bartering loudly.
He dismounted quickly, tying his horse to a nearby post. His sharp eyes searched the crowd, his ears straining for anything that could lead him to Solan—or Satrina. He moved with purpose, his broad shoulders parting the crowd as he approached a larger tent where a small group of traders stood talking.
Borias spotted a man in fine clothes stepping out of the tent, holding Solan's small cloak in one hand. The sight sent a surge of rage through him. Without hesitation, Borias stormed over, grabbing the man by the collar and shoving him against the post.
"Where's the boy who wore this?" Borias growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The man—Creston—blinked in shock, his face turning pale. "The boy? I—I didn't take him! A woman brought him to me, said she needed my help finding a buyer."
Borias' grip tightened, his face inches from Creston's. "Where is he now?"
Creston stammered, his eyes darting nervously. "She took him to the east side of the post—said the buyer was waiting there. I don't know anything else! Please, she didn't tell me her name, just paid me to arrange the deal!"
Borias shoved the merchant back, snatching the cloak from his hands with a growl of frustration. His eyes scanned the bustling trading post as he stormed towards the eastern edge, where the merchant had pointed him. His chest felt tight, dread settling in his stomach as he approached the covered wagons.
A group of traders huddled near one of the larger wagons, deep in conversation. Borias walked up to them, his voice cutting through the noise. "The woman who brought the boy—where is she?"
The men exchanged wary glances before one of them, a grizzled trader with a long beard, spoke up. "She's gone. Left right after the deal was done. Didn't say where she was heading."
Borias clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his rage in check. "The boy," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Where is he?"
The trader gestured to a nearby wagon, where a child's faint cries could be heard. "The merchant she sold him to is over there. Paid a high price for him, too. Seems like she was in a hurry."
Borias didn't wait to hear more. He ran towards the wagon, his heart pounding. Pulling back the tarp, he saw Solan sitting on a pile of blankets, his cheeks streaked with tears. Solan's wide eyes lit up the moment he saw his father.
"Pa!" Solan's tiny voice trembled as he reached out.
Relief and fury collided in Borias' chest as he lifted Solan into his arms, holding him tightly. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're safe now."
The merchant, a wiry man with a glint in his eyes, approached them. "Hey, that's my property now," he said sharply. "Paid fair coin for him."
Borias turned slowly, his glare freezing the man in his tracks. "He's not property," he growled. "He's my son. And if you think you're going to keep him, you'll find yourself buried in this dirt before you draw your next breath."
The merchant swallowed hard, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright," he muttered, backing away. "Take the kid. I don't want trouble."
Borias adjusted Solan in his arms, his gaze still burning as he watched the merchant retreat. He looked back toward the edge of the open area, where the trees loomed dark and still. Satrina was gone, but he would never forget what she did to them.
"Run all you want," he muttered under his breath. "You'll answer for this, Satrina."
With Solan clinging to him, Borias turned and walked away from the post. He would return to Xena, but he would not rest until Satrina paid for what she had done...
Then, faintly, he heard it—a soft giggle, followed by the unmistakable sound of water. He broke into a run, following the sound to a narrow stream where Solan sat, happily splashing his stick in the water.
Relief surged through Borias like a flood, his legs nearly giving out as he dropped to his knees beside his son. "Solan," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He pulled his son into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. Solan giggled again, oblivious to the panic he had caused.
"Stick, Papa," Solan said, waving his treasure in the air.
Borias let out a shaky laugh, tears stinging his eyes. "You scared me," he whispered. "Don't ever run off like that again."
He held Solan for a moment longer, his heart still pounding as he carried him back to the house. The relief he felt was tempered by the realization that he couldn't do this alone. Whatever Xena was up to, it was leaving him to carry the burden of their family—and it was too much.
The sound of hooves nearing the house made Borias pause, his hammer mid-swing as he worked on reinforcing a beam. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, his jaw tightening as Xena's figure came into view. She dismounted smoothly, her movements casual, although her expression gave nothing away. He dropped his tools and approached her, his steps heavy with frustration. "Where in Tartarus have you been?"
Xena raised an eyebrow, her tone flat as she replied, "Out."
"Out?" Borias' voice rose as he gestured toward the house. "Do you even realize what kind of day I've had? Lexa cried nonstop, Solan disappeared into the woods, and I'm here, trying to keep everything together. Meanwhile, you're off riding around, pretending you're still a conqueror.
Xena turned sharply, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Pretending?" Her voice was low, like the warning growl of a predator. "Don't start with me, Borias."
"Oh, I'll start," he shot back, stepping closer. "You disappear at all hours. Your armor's gone. Your weapons too. I checked the bin, Xena. You don't even bother to hide it anymore. What are you doing out there?"
Xena scoffed, brushing past him toward the house. "That's none of your concern."
Borias followed her, his frustration boiling over. "None of my concern? You're my partner, the mother of my children. Your damn armor disappearing is my concern."
Xena stopped abruptly, spinning to face him. "I don't owe you any explanations."
"While you're gone, I'm the one raising these kids, building us a home, and holding everything together. All I've ever done is try to support you."
Xena's laugh was cold, mocking. "Support me? You've lost your edge, Borias. You used to be a warrior, someone I could respect. Now look at you." Her piercing gaze swept over him, her lip curling in disgust. "Tending to a garden, chasing after kids, covered in dirt."
His fists clenched, and his face twisted with hurt. "Don't do that. Don't act like I'm the only one who's changed. You left that life behind too—or so I thought."
Xena stepped closer. "The Borias I knew wouldn't be standing here, whining. He was a warrior. The one who rode through the East with me. The one who turned against me for those stupid centaurs. That Borias—he had a spine. He wasn't some broken-down farmer pretending to be a man. Ever since I gave you a son," she spat, pointing at Solan, "you've been more concerned with diapers than dominance. You've lost everything that made you worth following, Borias."
Borias' anger erupted. "I gave it all up for you, Xena! For this family!"
"You gave it up because you became weak," Xena hissed. "You gave it up because you didn't have the stomach for what it takes to lead, not anymore."
He grabbed her by her cheeks, his face inches from hers. "I love you, Xena. But you make it damn near impossible to keep fighting for us."
Xena's eyes blazed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she smiled coldly. "There is no 'US.' Stop fighting then. Leave." Borias released her, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped back. His voice dropped, thick with pain.
"You don't mean that." The tension between them was suffocating, the air heavy with words that couldn't be taken back. Borias' chest heaved as he struggled to control his emotions. "Say what you want, Xena, but I'm not leaving my children. The only way I'm leaving is in a grave."
Xena's gaze sharpened, her lips curling into a faint, dangerous smile. "That can be arranged."
He threw his hands up in frustration and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He picked up his hammer and continued working on the house.