Disclaimers:
This story is categorized as fan fiction. The characters of Xena, 
Gabrielle, et al, which have appeared in the series Xena: Warrior 
Princess, belong to the producers, writers and executives of 
Renaissance Pictures and MCA/Universal Television. I claim only 
to have borrowed them, without intent to profit or infringe these 
rights, for the purpose of creating this story for enjoyment of 
the series' fans, of which I count myself one of many.

Additionally, the story below contains references, explicit and 
implied, of a sexual relationship between two consenting adults 
of the same sex. If you are not of legal age to read this story, 
or such material is illegal where you live, or you do not feel 
comfortable with such content, please refrain from reading this 
story.

Timeline Notes: Set sometime late in 4th season, I figure. One of 
my characters, Mendices, is mentioned in "History Cast in Amber" 
(the very first story I ever wrote) and he's seen in more detail 
in "Compelling Associations" another of my general fiction 
stories. 

Heart's Courage
If Memory Serves
by LZClotho
(c) January 1999

Chapter 1

Xena opened one crystal blue eye and scanned her surroundings. 
Deciding against actually moving from her position, she cradled 
the soft naked form of the bard beneath their shared blanket. 
Idly she stroked long, strong fingers against the soft bare 
shoulder, and with her other hand tugged the blankets more 
closely against Gabrielle's back. The warrior's gaze caressed her 
young lover, absorbing the smooth lines of a face that thankfully 
seemed less world-weary than it should after the last trying 
year.

They had both done a lot of changing, some of it good. Well, for 
Gabrielle anyway. The bard had come into her own. It had taken 
Xena a long time to accept that the child-woman she had pulled 
onto Argo's back outside her mother's inn in Amphipolis more than 
three summers ago had become a complex, but happy, woman. 
Gabrielle had grown from a girl who accidentally became an Amazon 
princess, to a young woman who chose to become an Amazon queen, 
for reasons that actually had little to do with needing a place 
to be. As Gabrielle had revealed recently with the Thracian 
Amazons, it all had much more to do with trying to be in the 
right place to do the right thing at the right time.

Gabrielle had figured out so much over the last three years, 
things that Xena still struggled with understanding. That had a 
lot to do with why Xena needed the bard close. Over the years 
since leaving her home to lead an army across the majority of 
Greece, the warrior had had many willing teachers. M'Lila, 
Caesar, Borias, Lao Ma, Alti, Cyane...

Tucking her own dark hair behind her ear, Xena smiled down into 
the peacefully sleeping face. Never had she had a teacher who 
didn't know she was one. Drawn to the gentle rise and fall of the 
bard's chest as she breathed deeply in her sleep, Xena lowered 
her head and pressed warm kisses to the soft skin just below 
Gabrielle's collarbone. Under her lips she felt the quality of 
breathing change, and the body under her hands began a langorous 
rise to consciousness.

Hips swayed to her questing touch. Shoulder and arm muscles 
rippled where her breath awakened them to warm life. Stomach and 
pelvic muscles, tightened from years of walking the length and 
breadth of much of the known world, clenched and unclenched at 
her caresses.

Finally, like the rising sun bringing the light into the world 
for another day, Gabrielle's eyelids rose, revealing languid 
green pools of color, which drowned Xena with the first touch of 
their gaze. The bard's voice rumbled with the huskiness of sleep, 
"Good morning."

Unresisting to the urge, Xena brought her mouth to Gabrielle's, 
licking and nipping at the warm lips until the play dissolved, 
leaving in its place a passion riding them both to deeper, wetter 
kisses. Tongues slipped against one another, first inside the 
satin warmth of Gabrielle's mouth, then, when the bard awoke 
fully to her passions, inside the velvet heat of Xena's.

Hands followed suit, drawing responses beginning with playful 
caresses, tickling along the curve of a breast. Fingers traced 
groaningly sensuous lines toward heated centers dampening with 
passion's fluids. Xena's fingers were drawn in first by 
Gabrielle's hips squirming in the ageless dance of impending 
need. She caressed the swelling bud at the juncture of 
Gabrielle's thighs first, while suckling on a nipple pearling 
against the ministrations of her tongue.

When the bard arched upward, Xena slid her free hand beneath and 
caressed the muscular line of her back. Hips shifted again and 
Xena's fingers slid home in the warm caress of Gabrielle's 
soaking hot center. A sound of animal pleasure expelled on a 
breath from the bard's parted lips. "Xena!" she sighed, groans 
rising as her release neared.

"Gabrielle." Xena lowered her voice to a growling caress, her 
breath warming the curve of Gabrielle's left ear. "Good morning, 
love." The endearment mingled with the peaking mewling sounds of 
Gabrielle's release. In that instant, pleasure convulsed through 
the bard's body, and Xena's heart leapt at the vibrations deep 
within her lover.

The quiet which settled over them was enforced by the deep even 
breathing of two chests pressing against one another until 
Gabrielle slid her body down Xena's length. A deep chuckle 
erupted from the warrior as a fully-awakened Gabrielle used 
breath, hands, lips and tongue to take her body on a journey of 
its own pleasure.

A squirrel that had ventured close to the camp, and a fox 
sleeping in the hollow of a tree, both bolted when the warrior's 
shout of pleasure shattered the still morning air. Gabrielle 
chuckled, still stroking Xena's stomach muscles, which were 
jumping all out of control, when she heard a series of splashes 
in the lake beside their campsite.

That reminded her she was hungry. Her eyes must have conveyed 
something. As Xena's eyes unglazed and focused on her face, 
instead of something langorous and loving dripping from that 
enticing mouth, the warrior asked, "Hungry, huh?" which burst the 
moment instantly, making them both laugh.

Pushing to her hands over the warrior's sweat-soaked and limp 
body, Gabrielle ducked her head and briefly nibbled lips that 
nibbled back. "Um, yeah. How about I do the fishing this 
morning?"

Xena's eyes closed briefly and then opened, a look of such 
pathetic gratefulness that she wouldn't have to move transformed 
her face. Gabrielle laughed and sat up, stroking stomach muscles 
that leapt helplessly. "You have no idea how wonderful it is to 
hear you say that. I don't think I could move."

"Not even if a whole band of Saracens were descending on our 
campsite right this minute?" Gabrielle teased with a smile as she 
stood and walked down to the lake, dousing her naked form and 
stroking out until she stood shoulder deep in the cool water. 
Xena rolled onto her side and with a surprising amount of effort, 
lifted her head onto her hand to watch.

Xena watched the level of concentration increase by measures on 
the smooth face. Gabrielle's brow furrowed, and she bit her lower 
lip in the most endearing expression. Her shoulders moved and 
suddenly the warrior saw a large trout flying through the air 
toward her. With an unconscious movement, she snatched the meal 
from the air and with a groan, sat up. She had to dress and find 
her knife and prepare their breakfast for the fire.

Pulling on her leather gambeson, she retrieved the knife, sitting 
back down by the time Gabrielle emerged from the lake. Water 
cascaded from her nakedness until only the droplets on her 
breasts and thighs caught the morning sunlight, casting her body 
in a dance of diamond-like sparkling light. The sight stilled 
Xena's knife because she couldn't trust herself not to cut off 
her own fingers in her daze.

"You are beautiful," Xena expelled her words on a shocked breath.

Gabrielle crouched and reached out, caressing a hand over Xena's 
own naked shoulder. "So are you," she breathed just before their 
lips came together for a long breath-stealing kiss.

"Mmm," murmured Xena when they parted, blue and green gazes 
locking. "Uh, maybe you better build up the fire a bit."

"No problem," Gabrielle replied, turning and sitting to carefully 
feed new wood to their night's fire. Then she stood, collecting 
her clothes and covering herself.

"You're chipper this morning," Xena remarked, finding her 
breathing steadying reliably at last.

"I got awakened with such a wonderful greeting," the blonde 
offered by way of explanation. "Usually you're already off 
scouting the perimeter, or doing your morning exercises, or..."

Xena's eyebrow lifted. "Are you saying you want me to become a 
lazy slugabed?" She passed the bard the prepared fish.

Gabrielle slid the filets into their frying pan, then shifting it 
over the flames. "No. But while your morning exercises are a 
wonder to watch, there's very little room for sharing when you're 
swinging your sword around." She looked back over her shoulder 
and arched her own blonde eyebrow in question. "Am I right?"

Xena smiled, smoothing the eyebrow with a gentle finger. "Right."

"Why did you stay in bed this morning?"

Xena pulled out their small platters so Gabrielle could serve up 
breakfast. Since the bard's miraculous return from near-death at 
the chasm, she had found herself doing a lot of small things. "I 
just wanted to stay close," she said finally.

Gabrielle passed a plate back to Xena and snuggled up against the 
warrior's left side, using her fingers to flake off pieces of 
fish. "Me too." Swallowing quickly, Gabrielle lifted her chin, 
meeting Xena's eyes and finding herself being thoroughly kissed. 
"Mmm."

"I could probably be persuaded to wake up like this a lot of 
mornings," the warrior murmured against Gabrielle's panting 
mouth.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to have your skills waste away," the 
bard replied. "What would I have to write about?"

Their plates were set aside as Xena gave Gabrielle a few ideas 
for some very romantic tales.



The sun was nearing its peak in the sky when Xena and Gabrielle 
finally moved on once again, headed for Corinth province. It had 
been nearly two moons since they stumbled on the Thracian 
Amazons, meeting Felice, Mika and helping out their new friends 
when the Persians struck again.

And a moon since they had run across Tara again, discovering her 
caught in the middle of a town's repressive expression of love 
for Calliope, one of the nine muses. Xena had enticed Autolycus 
from a nearby town to help the village see the error of its ways 
and unleashed a dancing young populace on the elders of the town. 
Both women enjoyed themselves a bit in the process.

But Gabrielle had promised Felice and others of the Thracian 
Amazons, to bring word of them to Ephiny. The visit could not be 
put off any longer. For nearly a week they had run across nothing 
more threatening than a handful of road thieves, whom they both 
quickly dispatched with sword or staff to the local authorities 
and moved on.

"You ready?" Gabrielle asked, from her position at Xena's knee, 
as she rubbed Argo's shoulder absently.

"Hmm?"

"I wonder what's happened while we were gone."

"I think I'll have a little explaining to do."

Gabrielle put a reassuring hand on Xena's knee. "I'll take care 
of that."

"I can take care of myself. You just spend the time you need 
getting reacquainted."

The bard looked up and the warrior looked down. At the same 
moment they both realized they were trying to minimize the 
other's coming problems. "It won't be easy."

"No, I don't think it will," Xena acknowledged with a wry look. 
"But I mean it. Take care of what you need to. I'll worry about 
myself."

"You've got Artemis' blessing. Remember that."

Xena smiled, remembering the brief exchange she'd had with the 
Amazons' goddess on the bank of the mythic-but-very-real Artemis 
Spring, which had been hidden within the forest surrounding the 
Thracian Amazons' village. "I'll try." Gabrielle caressed Xena's 
thigh. "Hey, we just got moving again. No fair trying to entice 
me off the road." She nudged Gabrielle's shoulder with her knee. 
"Tonight, I promise."

Green eyes lifted and winked and a soft hand continued its 
enticing stroking over and under a very sensitive thigh. She 
watched Xena's jaw stiffen resolutely and mused that things were 
going well... very well indeed.

"You are incorrigible."

Green eyes twinkled with unfettered joy at their play. "I could 
easily say the same thing about you."

The eyebrow went up with sardonic interest. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Just watching the energy when you dispatch a few bad 
guys. You love it. It makes you hungry for more action. I see it 
in your eyes."

"No more power, Gabrielle. I won't allow myself to hold that kind 
of power. Just me and this sword. And you at my side to remind me 
why I do this."

"That was beautiful."

Xena flushed. "Mush, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. But I love mush," Gabrielle chuckled, sliding her palm 
further up Xena's thigh until it disappeared beneath the leather 
strips of the warrior's skirt.

"Careful, remember my chakram's on that side," Xena chuckled.

Gabrielle shook her head and after a glance of approval from 
Xena, she slipped the round disc from its catch, gingerly turning 
it over in her palms. "This is a remarkable weapon."

"I won't teach you."

"Oh, no, just wondering where it came from. What it was like when 
you first had it. You know, storyteller stuff." Gabrielle 
returned the weapon to Xena and smiled up at the twinkling blue 
eyes. "You've never told me. So I wonder, and I make up little 
stories about it from time to time."

"What's the most popular theory?" Xena enjoyed the light 
conversation and pursued it willingly.

"With all its incredible properties -- god-given, definitely."

"Nope."

Xena's blunt monosyllabic response piqued Gabrielle's interest. 
"Ah, so do I finally get to hear the real story?"

"What's another theory?"

"Well, I haven't fully formed it yet, but Lao Ma figures 
prominently. The pattern, y'know." Xena nodded. "So?"

"Well, sort of. You know I returned to Greece after leaving Lao 
Ma." The bard nodded. "Well, I was having trouble with Borias. A 
new soldier joined my army for a while." She shrugged and 
gestured at the chakram. "He gave it to me after he took it from 
someone in battle."

"Really? Just a war prize? Wow. It seems like it was made for 
you."

"Nah."

"Were you really bad when you first started using it?"

"Oh yeah. Sliced myself pretty often. Took a long time before I 
got this under control."

"Whatever happened to the soldier?"

Xena let Argo's stride rock her gently in contemplation for a 
while. "I don't know," she admitted finally. "He was gone after 
the second battle for Amphipolis."

"A second battle? Gone? Did he die?"

"No, I don't think so," she mused quietly, digging her memory for 
any word she'd ever had. Nothing. Then aloud to Gabrielle, she 
tried to explain about the second Amphipolis battle. "We were 
stopping an army from taking their harvest. We won, but I took 
some pretty bad hits. I was laid up out of it for at least a 
week. When I finally got up and around, a scout told me he was 
gone."

"What was his name?"

Xena tilted her head back to bathe her face in the sunlight 
streaming through the trees, diving back in her memories. A name 
fell from her lips with soft surprise. "Mendices."

"Hmm." Gabrielle watched the light and shadow play across Xena's 
face. Her heart expanded with a jolt of love. Suddenly she felt 
jealous of this long-gone soldier who had obviously touched 
Xena's heart in some still unknown way.

More sensitive now to the blonde's moods, Xena offered her hand, 
palm up. "Wanna ride for a while? We'll make camp a little late 
tonight, to make up for our long leisurely morning." She smiled 
when Gabrielle didn't hesitate and only grabbed her wrist. 
Steeling her body, she flexed the muscle in that arm and in a 
single motion, hauled Gabrielle up in front of her, sitting 
sideways.

Protectively she wrapped her arm around the bare, muscular waist, 
and nuzzled the bard's throat. "Well, now, maybe I can --" She 
broke off and her head shot up, eyes scanning the area quickly. 
"Th!" She warned when Gabrielle started to open her mouth in 
question. "Down!" She came off Argo with Gabrielle protectively 
cradled between her body and the mare's.

Spears pierced the air around them, and Xena felt a bolt slide 
toward her throat. Ducking and grabbing, she halted the flight 
before it could bury itself in Argo's side. With a whistle, she 
ordered Argo from her side. Gabrielle slid her staff from the 
saddle loops as the mare left. A step away, Xena spun, drawing 
her sword, in the direction of the spear's arrival.

She met the downthrust of a broadsword, wielded by two thick arms 
attached to bare muscled shoulders. He was a mountain of a man, 
towering almost a foot over Xena's own striking height. She 
braced, bending her knees against the strain until she had enough 
recoil energy to shove back.

His legs, thick as tree trunks, did not sway as she tossed his 
arms up and away from her. The sword hilt remained in his grip. 
He quickly brought the sword back down toward her head. She 
dropped her head almost against her right shoulder and swung her 
sword in an arc, driving his weapon away from her left shoulder. 
A breath of air finally separating them, she tried to see enough 
of him to size him up, maybe even figure out whether he was just 
a brigand, or, as her instincts were yelling at her, a trained 
soldier from some invasion force.

His armor was links of mail, covering all of his upper body. He 
wore only metal wrist bracers on his arms, and linen clothing 
beneath the chain mail. A soldier definitely. From Gaul, but not 
Roman. Xena shoved aside her curiosity and repelled another 
strike, looking for a way to offset his formidable balance. 
Sweeping his legs would be unlikely. He was just too massive. 
Maybe if I change directions on him, Xena thought. Coiling under 
his last strike, she threw off his sword and blasted her own body 
into the air over his head with a battle cry. She sailed further, 
out of reach of his arms, tumbled heels over head and turned in 
mid-air so when she landed she was behind him, watching him turn. 
He was slow, doubtless because of his huge bulk. She leapt and 
plowed both feet into his half-turned side. With his knees bent 
he could not withstand the blow. Wrenching his back, he fell to 
the ground with a howl.

She drove her sword down, burying it in his massive frame then 
wrenching it free. Taking a deep breath, she looked around for 
Gabrielle. She saw Argo nearby pawing at the ground. By her rear 
hooves lay a man obviously recently kicked by the mare's powerful 
hooves.

But the bard was nowhere to be found. "Gabrielle!" Another 
soldier came up behind her, and she met his sword with a reverse 
blow of her own, pounding her hilt against his wrist. The sword 
dropped away and she drove the hilt of her weapon against his 
temple.

His body dropped without a sound.

"Gabrielle!" She scanned the ground and found the bard had been 
dragged off into the woods. "Gabrielle! Hold on, I'm coming!"

With a yell, she grabbed Argo's reins, leapt into the saddle. She 
guided Argo with a single hand, her other still wielding her 
sword at the ready. The kidnappers' tracks broke through brush 
for hundreds of paces, sometimes cutting a wide swath and 
sometimes a single-file one. She couldn't tell how many men had 
dragged the young woman away.

Damn, she cursed herself. You let your guard down she castigated 
herself. Some Warrior Princess you are. Letting a few men get the 
drop on you. They were enough ahead of her that she caught 
neither sight nor sounds of their location though she moved on 
horseback for almost two full candlemarks. But among their tracks 
she still only found evidence of men moving on foot. Not a single 
horse among the running kidnappers, she was almost certain of it.

So how is it they were moving so fast? Xena thought, the gods be 
damned. She pushed Argo onward, following tracks the kidnappers 
made no effort to hide.

The trail drifted off, becoming hidden by tangled brush. It soon 
became too tight for her to ride the war-horse and she 
dismounted, leaving Argo to forage while she pushed ahead. In 
time she found a trail, concealed as a game path, and followed 
it. The broken branches, crushed leaves and packed dirt evidence 
led the dark-haired warrior on a twisted route deeper into the 
forests off the road.

The warrior's sixth sense began racing like a runaway stallion. 
She set her feet down on each step more carefully.

Which turned out to be a good thing.

Pushing through the tangle of undergrowth and vines, Xena stepped 
out...

Into nothing.

Only her lightning fast reflexes -- retaining hold on a vine she 
had been releasing -- kept her from a plunge. She groaned as her 
shoulders strained and her body slammed into a sheer rock face. 
Swinging slightly she searched out details of her situation both 
above and below her position. The ledge she'd fallen from was 
five or six body lengths above.

A glance down made her thankful Gabrielle wasn't with her. The 
younger woman's fear of heights would have taken a severe 
beating. Even Xena took an extra hard breath in shock. A river, 
plowing its way noisily through the canyon floor looked like a 
tangled blue hair ribbon at this distance.

At least two leagues. She admitted ruefully that she likely 
wouldn't have survived the fall. No matter how incredibly I can 
leap, she decided, I always pick a landing spot that gives a 
little. The rocks lining the river on both sides just didn't cut 
it.

"Or rather," she remarked dryly, "would have cut me -- to 
ribbons."

Flexing her shoulders to change the point of strain, Xena began 
the hand over hand climb up to the ledge.

The vine was supple and strong but the surface rubbed her palms 
until she felt the tingle of a burn on the skin. About halfway to 
the top, Xena paused. She wrapped the vine around her right wrist 
and bicep to free her left hand a moment.

You're getting soft she admonished herself, noticing the raised 
red areas and a blister forming at the base of her fingers.

Shaking her hand to get the blood flow back, she swapped 
positions freeing her right arm for a similar examination.

Sighing, she finally resumed her climb.

About three lengths from the top she found gouges to use her 
feet. But she paused. She could have sworn the climb was only 
going to be over only about five or six lengths. Certainly she 
had already climbed that far? Blinking to clear the sweat from 
her eyes, she looked down again.

And blinked once more, unable to believe her eyes.

The river -- a slim ribbon when she had begun her climb -- now 
raged close enough she could see the rocks over which the 
whitewater crashed, splashing up spray.

Her sixth sense reeling, Xena reprocessed all the new sensations: 
the closer crash of the water, and the more distant sound of the 
animals in the foliage above.

She looked at the vine in her hands and followed its length up to 
the cliff. Now three body lengths looked more like thirty.

"Just great!" All right, she thought, looking up at the sky. 
"Which one of you is messing with me this time?" The breeze 
changed direction blowing her hair into her face.

She looked down and found her feet now hovered just above a wide 
flat rock alongside the river.

Aggravation with whichever deity had done this to her warred with 
the ache she now felt constantly burning in her muscles. She 
rotated her shoulder again to relieve the strain there and in her 
back.

The pain won. Keeping her eyes on the ground so it didn't go 
anywhere she released her grip on the vine. She resisted the 
natural urge to close her eyes as she fell. She was determined to 
avoid further surprises.

Bending deep as she landed Xena struggled to find her center of 
balance on the suddenly teetering surface. "Damn."

She swung her arms wide and rocked back onto her heels.

Bit by bit the rock slowed and came to a stop.

Feeling her center of balance finally adjust to a point above her 
hips, Xena examined her surroundings and looked for a place to 
transfer to, preferably on ground, not teetering rock.

The rocky ground extended without relief to the wall of the 
canyon and in both directions as far as Xena guessed she could 
have jumped. Looking toward the river, she admitted that there 
wasn't anyplace to set down except the river.

"Great," she murmured. The safest -- this condition being 
enormously relative -- place appeared to be the riverbed.

She had no idea how deep it was or how fast the current really 
ran. But the frothy white surface seemed to tell her the answers 
were too deep and too fast.

She looked over to the canyon wall again. Her posture deflated. 
Even if she traversed the rocks the vine was now gone. "Well, the 
river it is then," she groaned.

She thought about moving across from rock to rock and stepping in 
at the edge of the river. An ominous rumbling interrupted her 
plans. The ground shifted. It threw her, and the rock she was on, 
off balance. It kicked up nearly on edge. "Well, up I go!" she 
rolled into the toss, flexing her legs and flinging herself heels 
over head. She splashed down into ice cold water. Her feet never 
touched bottom. Instead she was dragged downstream feet first, 
pell-mell among the rocks.

Trying to use just a few principles of steering, Xena lifted her 
arms stiffly, holding them in the water behind her. She adjusted 
their position relative to her body like twin rudders. In this 
way she managed to avoid the bigger rocks. A host of smaller 
stones gouged her thighs, back and shoulders as she bounced in 
the current like a child's ball.

Knowing she couldn't close her eyes or she'd die crushed against 
a rock, Xena resolutely kept them open despite the stinging 
spray. Her eyes watered in pain but she withstood it. I don't 
want to die, she thought, a vision of Gabrielle flashing up in 
her head.

The current pulled, pushed and finally tossed Xena out of the 
river. She could not prevent the fall back and only had time to 
recognize the gray surface below as a sharply pointed rock when 
her head struck it. Agony exploded in her head. Cold water closed 
in. Inky blackness followed.

Chapter 2

Firelight flickered somewhere near. She could smell the crisp 
smoke of dried birch. Too, she could hear the crackle of wood 
expiring in flame. She felt the warm air brushing against her 
left cheek. Slowly she turned her head keeping her eyes still 
shut tight, and opened them to find herself less than three feet 
from a campfire.

Her gaze slid down and she identified a threadbare brown blanket 
protecting her from the chill seeping up from the dirt. And that 
made her realize that it was already nightfall, well past 
sundown. She wondered how long she had been unconscious. She 
started lifting her free left hand to rub at the ache at the base 
of her head.

Her wrist was seized in a vise-like grip. "Awake, eh?" Suddenly 
her wrist was thrown aside and her shoulders grabbed instead. 
Large meaty hands pulled her to a sitting position. "Easier to 
make a sale that way. Best stay awake." He tugged at a lock of 
her hair as she tried to focus. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her 
and she lurched away to throw up. "Nice blonde like you'll fetch 
a fine price in the slave markets of Rome."

Alarm registered and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, 
Gabrielle pinned him with wide green eyes. "Rome?" she asked 
weakly. "No, please..." Slavers! Oh gods, Xena! Where are you? 
She pushed to her hands and knees, trying to shake off the ache 
in her head that blurred her vision. He grabbed her, and yanked 
her back down, pressing his body over hers threateningly.

His breath, tinged with the smoked fish he'd obviously consumed 
for his evening meal, disarrayed her hair. "Y'ain't goin' 
nowhere, little lady. We'll make the boat by dusk tomorrow, and 
then it's a bag o' dinars'll take ye t' Rome."

Gabrielle shivered with fear. His eyes, in the firelight their 
brown depths glittered gold and narrowed. Unable to find anything 
to convince him to get off her, she resorted to a submissive 
question. "Um, can I ask for something to eat?"

He pushed away from her, and quickly she pushed to a sitting 
position, but made no further move. "Here." He tossed her a chunk 
of the fish from a pan resting just off the fire out of her 
direct line of sight. She caught it against her chest, flakes of 
the fish catching in her top as she pulled it away. 

Tentatively she nibbled. The smoky flavor overwhelmed the fish, 
making it taste more burnt than nourishing. Knowing she hadn't 
eaten since that morning, she divorced herself from the food. 
Instead she remembered her last fish with Xena, how tender and 
flaky and aromatic the filet had been. She was also rather proud 
that she'd caught it herself. She remembered Xena's pleased look 
at her first taste. I put that smile there, she thought, and a 
smile touched her own lips in memory.

"Glad y'like it."

Gabrielle wisely said nothing to that, instead finishing off the 
fish and dusting her hands over the dirt. "Hits the spot." She 
felt her mouth pull into a smile, but did not feel joy in her 
heart. Gods, Xena. What am I going to do?

He slid away from her. "I'm going to keep watch. You stay put."

In silence, the bard looked around and realized that she was 
alone with him. "What happened to your friends who attacked my 
friend and I?"

Her question halted him halfway to his feet. He spun. "Yer 
demoness friend killed every last one of them! I was lucky t'get 
away with you!"

Gabrielle bit her lip to keep from smiling at that. It wasn't 
really well done of her to be pleased at several deaths. But she 
wished she knew if Xena had suffered any wounds during the 
battle. Or if even now she was hunting down their trail, to 
rescue her. "You attacked us first."

"Where the hell did she learn to fight like that? We figured two 
women on the road..." He shook his head. "Caught m'buddy across 
the temple pretty hard y'self with that staff."

Gabrielle looked around. Her staff was nowhere to be found. Her 
heart sank. Ephiny's gift of that weapon had been a sign of the 
Amazon's growing affection for the bumbling bard-who-would-be-
queen. "My staff? What did you...?"

"Snapped it in half and threw it in the river. I'm not stupid. 
Leave you with a weapon, and I'll be just as dead as any of my 
friends one night." He seemed to consider something. "I can't 
keep lookout with you loose either. Damn." He snatched up a 
length of rope.

Gabrielle stumbled to her feet as he went for the rope. He jumped 
at her and with a thud, she felt the impact of the ground, as the 
breath caught in her chest. Stars spun in front of her eyes and 
she fought against him. The ropes were pulled tightly, wrapped 
multiple times around her wrists and hands, immobilizing her. 
Then, like a recalcitrant goat, she was dragged back to the 
blanket and her feet lashed together.

Her shoulder burning from the scrape of rocks and dirt, Gabrielle 
struggled to calm herself. There wasn't going to be any escape 
tonight. She tried to console herself that he couldn't possibly 
expect her to hop all the way to the boat in the morning, so most 
likely would untie her for the trip. Staring into the fire, she 
closed her eyes, and prayed for sleep, despite her nerves, so she 
would be able to take advantage of the first opportunity that 
presented itself.

From under half-closed eyes, she watched him settle against a 
tree at the edge of the small woodland clearing, eyes moving 
slowly over their surroundings. His hand drifting over his knife 
was the last sight as the bard closed her eyes. Blue eyes 
twinkling with love and rare laughter accompanied her into sleep. 
Xena, I hope you know I love you. Please come find me soon.



The first thing she felt was stabbing pains in both hands and 
something cold and hard pressing against her right cheek. She 
started to flex her fingers, but had to stop at the shooting pain 
that erupted in her shoulders. Broken. Oh damn. Assessment of her 
physical condition for the moment overruled any desire to figure 
out where she was lying face down.

Muscle by muscle, she tried to tighten and loosen each one, using 
the sensations to tell which bones were broken and which were 
still intact. Twice, while flexing her right bicep and then her 
left hand, she felt a warm rush of blood flow over the limb. Oh 
boy, you're in really bad shape.

She tentatively moved her jaw, felt the pinch of broken bone and 
immediately stopped. Well, that's busted Xena. She was pleased at 
least that she remembered her own name. So, mild concussion, 
busted jaw or anything else, at least she could recover. Quickly 
assessing the rest of her mental condition, she tried to remember 
what she'd been doing just before rattling her brains. 

She had a vague notion of rolling through a battlefield, leaping, 
careening, with her sword slashing through opponents. She closed 
her eyes and saw a face. Dark hair fell across one eye. She 
brushed a weak hand out and pushed the silky smooth lock out of 
the way. Brown eyes, set deep with concern, looked back. One word 
fell from her lips: "Mendices."

The battlefield had been on the hills outside Amphipolis. Now, 
she lay on her back in a glade just off the field. Everything 
hurt. But somehow she was alive. How was that possible? She was 
fairly certain she'd taken a sword through the stomach, from 
behind.

"You're alive," Mendices breathed. "Thank the gods." He had 
kissed her then, and she felt the rounded edge of her chakram 
caught between their bodies, the metal quickly warmed by their 
body heat.

I must still be on the battlefield, Xena decided. She opened one 
eye, to find herself staring at the craggy edge of a large rock. 
No grass was anywhere in sight. She stopped her brow's furrowing 
as pain shot through her neck. Where was Mendices? Unable to use 
her right arm or her left hand, Xena worked herself onto her 
back. The sun she remembered being up was gone. The moon was 
visible just at the edge of some cliffs looming far overhead. How 
in Tartarus did I get down here?

Mendices' absence suggested that he had gone for help and maybe 
she'd stumbled to her feet, falling off the cliffs. Now the task 
remained to get back to her army. 

Unable to move her head more than a scant inch or two at a time 
without an overwhelming need to throw up, the process of getting 
to her feet was excruciating and slow. First, she moved one leg 
over the other, turning her hips slightly against the ground. She 
rolled her head to the same side.

Fresh blood trickled over her temple, down her cheek and into the 
crevices of her armor. But she resisted the urge to brush at it, 
knowing that jarring her arms or her wrist might result in an 
irreparable damage. She certainly hoped that the battle was well 
and truly over. She was in no condition to fight off a cold much 
less an enemy with a weapon.

Her vision continued blurring at odd intervals, but overall 
finally she identified the separate injuries rather than feeling 
like one huge mass of broken parts. She steadied herself at each 
stage in the process of standing. First, on her knees, then she 
used her elbows to lift her chest from the ground. To shift her 
center of balance required the only sudden move she hoped she'd 
have to endure. Lurching her chest to a position over her hips, 
she bit her lip until she tasted the blood drawing. Tears 
squeezed through her tightly shut eyelids. The pain was 
agonizing.

But she was up. She opened her eyes slowly and adjusted to the 
slightly higher view of her situation. The rock she'd looked when 
she first awakened was about three feet high. Slowly rotating her 
gaze, she saw where she'd fallen. The rock corners held dark 
smears of blood.

All right, Xena, she encouraged herself. Time to get to your feet 
and find a way out. The move from her knees to her feet was 
easier. She only grimaced once as she felt pain shoot through the 
likely stress fracture in her right leg. But then she was on her 
feet. Her muscles shaking and her heart pounding, she gingerly 
moved her left hand along her right arm, squeezing, and trying to 
separate out the sensations and identify where the break actually 
was.

"Ah, okay. There." Xena sucked in a breath at the shattering pain 
as she squeezed her elbow. She had nothing with her to wrap it 
up, but knowing the exact details of her injuries settled her 
mind a bit. "Time to find my other answers," she resolved.

Slowly she checked her armor and weapons. Amazingly her chakram 
was still attached to her belt. Her palm slid over the slightly 
indented markings. A smile touched her lips, remembering how 
incredibly useful the weapon had been in her battle. She could 
protect a distant quarter while fighting halfway across a 
battlefield. She found a lengthy tear, just over her left hip, in 
the leather of her gambeson. A night with a leather needle and 
she'd have that fixed.

There was weight on her back, but she could not tell if the 
sheath there had anything in it. But then something tickled her 
mind. I don't wear the sheath on my back! The alarm at the 
incongruity scared her into jumping. Pain erupted in her 
shoulders, back and legs as she ripped the sheath off, finding 
the sword in it. The entire process brought tears coursing down 
over her cheeks and she fell to her knees.

The instinctive act of trying to brace her fall snapped through 
the rest of her cracked left wrist. She felt the bones push 
through. Gods! She cried out in anguish and pain, struggling to 
her feet. Ares! The God of War's name crossed her mind as she 
experienced a moment of pure rage, at her condition and the 
frustration of the situation. She staggered forward and tripped 
on the rocks.

The ground's impact likely would finish off the hairline fracture 
in her leg, she thought, but the ground's impact never came. 
Strong hands and arms caught her just before her knees hit, 
preventing her fall. Her head slammed into a leather-covered 
chest. The ache in her chest, she decided, noting the solid arms 
of her savior, was nothing compared to what would have happened 
otherwise. "What the hell happened to you?" The voice was male, 
deep, and gruff.

Unable to push off and look up at her rescuer, Xena answered, her 
voice muffled by her position, "I fell off the cliff." The body 
she was reclining against stiffened, and she could feel the 
muscles shift as he looked up.

"Damn!" His hands--she could tell they were broad, lightly 
covered in springy hair on the back--moved over her body, into 
her hair through the matted blood, and then down across her 
shoulders and onto her arms. When his hands squeezed her broken 
elbow and shattered wrist, she yelled. The sound rung in his 
ears, since her mouth was scant inches away, but he did not 
flinch. 

"It's broken," she whimpered, trying futilely to pull herself 
from his grip.

"Don't move so suddenly, Xena!" he reprimanded, "You'll snap 
something I can't fix!" He sounded worried, distracted, and 
alarmed all at once, trying to cover it up with gruff command.

He knew her? Was this one of her men having found her during the 
usual sweep after a battle? "What's your name?" She tried to 
focus her vision, but the ache in her head had grown worse, 
making most things merely shapes.

There was a long moment of silence where both of them were still. 
She could hear his jaw working, but he didn't make a sound for 
the longest time. Finally she felt his shoulders shift. 
"Mendices," he said.

Xena sighed and released her tension. "Thank the gods, it's you," 
she breathed. "Why'd you leave me on the battlefield alone?"

"I didn't." His voice was uncertain. There was a long pause. 
"I... You know me. I went for help."

She lifted her chin slowly and met familiar brown eyes set in a 
vague face that slowly cleared into the form of her newest right 
hand. "I was stupid, or out of it. I think I stumbled away. Then 
I fell off the cliff, I guess."

"Xena," he said quickly. "How many fingers have I got up?"

She turned her head to the right slowly and focused on his left 
hand, palm toward her. She counted and reported with triumph, 
"Three."

"Okay, sight's fine. How old are you?" She raised an eyebrow at 
him. "C'mon, humor me."

"I turned twenty on my last birthday."

"When was that?"

"About three moons ago."

"You don't look twenty. You look about thirty," he said. She made 
to swing at him but there was no strength behind it and he 
grabbed the hand to prevent the vibration of impact from 
traveling up her arm aggravating her injuries.

"I don't lie about my age," she sought to correct him.

"Fine. So you're twenty." She caught his gaze and saw a slight 
twinkle. Then his voice was resigned as he mumbled, "What do I 
care that you want to repeat the last ten years?"

"Repeat? What in Tartarus are you talking about? Did you take a 
fall off the cliffs?"

"I've been occupied, but I was nowhere near the cliffs. Trust 
me."

"Is everyone back at camp all right?"

Another long pause. "Yes, I'm sure they are."

"Didn't you check?"

He sounded a bit distracted when he answered, "Fine. Yes, yes. 
They're all fine. C'mon. I'll take you back to camp." Supporting 
her every step, he helped Xena move slowly over the ground, 
patient as she continually shifted her weight gingerly and set 
her feet down exactly so on each step. 

Mendices' presence was comforting, and knowing that she was 
exactly where she remembered set her mind at ease that her brains 
hadn't been unduly rattled by her fall. Now she just had to 
concentrate on recovering. "You're quiet," she said.

"Just making sure one of us makes it back to camp in one piece," 
he responded still sounding slightly distracted. "You feeling any 
better?"

She tried to shrug, grimaced instead, and finally just answered 
in a whisper, "I'll be all right." She looked over and noticed 
Mendices was looking more haggard. "Am I too heavy for you?"

"Oh," he looked to her, bringing his distracted attention back 
into focus on her. "Oh, no. I'm fine." He shifted his grip until 
she was leaning hard on his shoulder instead of his chest. "You 
relax. I'll have you back to camp in no time."



The steady pace finally became monotonous. She constantly looked 
down, watching her feet and his, move over the ground. They left 
the rocky landscape and stepped into grasslands, then the ground 
sloped upward and she realized they were taking the long way up, 
circling around and therefore back up to the high ground. 
Mendices had fallen silent, concentration distracting them both.

The sounds of an active camp ahead brought Xena's head up. Looks 
like the post-battle celebration is in full swing, she thought. 
"I better go the rest of the way alone," she said.

Slowly, and Xena could have sworn it was with great reluctance, 
Mendices released his hold on her. She straightened carefully but 
was grateful she managed to keep her feet under her. Shoulder to 
shoulder they walked into the war camp.

Men quickly surrounded them with whoops, hollers and cheering. 
"Xena! Xena! Xena!" Her head rattled from the noise, and she made 
a nodding gesture, but then tried to raise a hand to stop their 
closing in. Her hand never came up. However the crowd parted in 
the next instant, clearing a path through the camp to a tent 
roughly in the center. She looked on the canvas-covered dwelling 
and felt a strange jolt of unfamiliarity. She scolded. It's not 
like you hate tents. But she could not shake the strange feeling 
she would have preferred to sleep out under the stars night after 
night. Weird. She shook her head, causing an exhaled moan of 
pain.

"I'll send the camp healer over." Mendices' voice sounded at her 
shoulder and she turned to respond, only to see his back as he 
strode away.

The young soldier standing guard at her tent pulled the flap 
aside and gestured her inside. "Welcome back, Commander."

She nodded and limped inside, not pausing once she identified the 
fur- and blanket-covered bed. Piece by piece, she removed her 
weapons, armor and leather coverings. The chakram clanged to the 
floor. The sword bounced tip to hilt twice then settled. The 
leather greaves, cuirass and wrist bracers followed. She tried to 
pull the leather gambeson off, but the pain was too much. Ah 
Tartarus, the healer can cut it off, she decided. The sheer will 
she'd employed to keep her feet moving fell away with a weak, 
very feminine whimper as she collapsed onto the cushioned 
surface. Thank you, gods! She closed her eyes.

Currently her plan was to be unconscious while the healer poked 
and prodded, tending to her wounds. Though usually interested 
beyond measure to observe the healer's skills, learning 
everything she could as her or her men were treated, Xena decided 
that this was one healing session she'd gladly give a miss.

Too bad I can't give the pain a miss too, she thought wryly, 
succumbing to sleep.



Mendices crossed through the camp with anxious broad strides. His 
sword swung wildly from his belt. The strap that had steadied it 
on his hip had been broken when he first lurched to catch Xena 
and stop her fall. He still couldn't believe he'd found her where 
he did. He pulled his hands through his hair.

What a stroke of luck. A smile touched his lips, spreading across 
his face, but falling far short of his dark brown eyes. He leaned 
into the healer's hut and reported, "The Commander needs to see 
you in her tent. Now."

The healer, a heavy-set fellow with dirt-blond hair receding from 
his forehead, but the length trailing on his jerkin's collar, 
turned around. "Right away, Ares."

With a wave of his hand, the form of Mendices melted away, 
revealing the dark black features of the God of War. "Not this 
time, Yerkes," the darker man replied. "It's Mendices on this 
trip." He covered his true nature with a wave of his hand, 
returning to the slightly less imposing, and considerably less 
dark shape of Xena's old trusted comrade. Accepting his god's 
will, the healer simply nodded. "Something's up with her head, I 
think, but I am not going to pass up this chance." He paused at 
the entryway, a last thought occurring to him. "Have Hermes find 
out what happened to the annoying fluff Xena used to travel with. 
Girl's name's Gabrielle."

Yerkes strode from the tent after Ares departed in the guise of 
Mendices. His first stop was to the interior of another tent 
where he tapped a crystal against the glass of a full-height 
plainly ornamented mirror. The crystal sparked against the other 
surface and a light glow flowed outward from that point. His 
reflection, gray eyes and smooth face, rippled away, replaced by 
a shimmering vista of an ornately decorated room. Once more he 
tapped the glass then lifted his foot toward it... and stepped 
through.

He emerged in a large opulently appointed chamber and grasped a 
small single reed pipe, about a handspan in length, off the 
nearby dresser surface. He blew a trio of notes, each different 
by half a pitch from the last. The air behind him rent and a 
bright flash subsided as quickly as it appeared. A narrow 
shouldered thin male in a twin-shouldered drape-style white toga 
looked up with hazel eyes from beneath a winged helmet. "Yes?"

"Got a chore for you, Hermes. Lord Ares wants to know where 
Xena's friend Gabrielle is."

"Has he checked next to the Warrior Princess lately?" the 
messenger god replied sarcastically.

"Xena's in his camp right now. The blonde woman was not with 
her."

Hermes frowned at this. "Really?" He turned once around, spinning 
on a heel, propping his chin on his fist. "Have any idea where I 
ought to start looking?"

"No clue."

"Always the hard ones, eh?" He adjusted his toga and slung a 
short cape over his arms and then back again. "Oh well. I'd 
better get on it."

Yerkes nodded, watched Hermes vanished in another flash of light 
and then turned around, walking back through the matching full-
length mirror standing in the corner of the room.

He emerged back in the tent and stepped outside, looking both 
ways to see if he was observed, then walked purposefully to the 
central tent. He nodded curtly to the guard and ducked inside. 
"So, Commander, had a rough day?"

There was no answer from the bed, but again, he hadn't really 
expected one. If Lord Ares had requested his services, the young 
woman was beyond a mortal healer's help. He crossed to the bed 
and with a healer's eye examined the sleeping woman. Not bad 
though. Well, certainly difficult, but not impossible. She had a 
few broken bones. Her hand was quite a mess from the broken 
wrist. And the crack in the leg could've been worse.

Yerkes studied the sleeping profile with a jolt of admiring 
pleasure. She had a slim, aquiline nose and high cheekbones. 
Muscles shifted under her skin in arms and legs. The creamy 
smooth texture of her skin was marred by several deep bruises, 
mottled from blue-green to green-yellow and a bright red-purple 
one encompassing much of the left side of her jaw. With a finger, 
he traced the line of her jaw and the bruising faded 
considerably, though her coloring was still considerably paler 
than it should be.

Lord Ares did always worry a little more than necessary over you, 
he thought in wondering silence, gently stroking silky black 
locks away from the pale, pain-drawn face. He was glad she slept, 
but Ares was very strict about this. She could never know. With a 
wave of his hand, a soft glow surrounded her head for a brief 
moment then faded away.

Now assured she would not awaken while he did his job, Yerkes 
used a combination of mortal methods, setting her bones, and 
wrapping the gashes in cloths, and his special touch, a soft 
glowing bit of energy applied here and there. Occupied for the 
better part of three candlemarks, Yerkes finally sat back away 
from the battered woman. Passing his palm over her eyes, he 
lifted the spell and stood to leave.

A voice from the covers stopped him. "Thank you."

Yerkes turned and nodded. "You should rest, Commander. The bones 
will take time to knit. And you must get your strength back." 
Tired eyes, as blue as he'd ever seen the skies in Olympus, 
smiled at him. His chest squeezed and he hoped he hadn't missed 
any of her wounds. "Lord Mendices will be glad to know you feel 
better."

"Tell him to see me after he's received the camp reports." Yerkes 
was pleased to note that the warrior's voice held only a slight 
tremor from her efforts.

"I'll be certain to tell him." Pushing aside the flap, he left 
Xena to rest.

Chapter 3

Pain woke Gabrielle. She could see evidence of dawn's light just 
before a hand swept into her line of sight, aiming for her cheek. 
She was lucky she was reaching up to rub at the crick in her 
neck. The hit was blocked, preventing the sting of another 
person's palm against her face. "I'm awake," she grumbled, 
throwing her captor's hand aside and pushing away from the tree 
trunk where she had fallen asleep.

"We're due at the docks by midday." He stood, adjusting his 
weapons belt, and gave her a scornful look.

Gabrielle scowled back. "Problem?"

"You ride?"

"Not well." She looked around. "You don't have a horse, so what's 
the matter?"

He looked over his shoulder at her and shrugged. "Was wondering 
how many I'd have to steal." He gave her a matter-of-fact grin. 
"Now I only have to steal one."

He tugged her upright using the loosened bonds between her wrists 
to haul Gabrielle to her feet. The bard swayed unsteadily still 
hobbled by the ankle restraints. Her shoulder muscles were pulled 
awkwardly taut when he led her a few steps away from the tree. 
Then he bent down and untied her feet. 

Gabrielle watched him carefully while he worked at the knots. 
When the ropes were loosened but not entirely gone from her 
ankles she raised her arms over her head and brought her fists 
crashing down against the back of his head. He dragged her down 
with him when he fell over. She let out a pained yelp as her body 
crashed to the ground. Thrashing and struggling, she managed to 
free all but one foot and began dragging herself from his grasp. 
He was stronger though and the hold he had on her leg outlasted 
the strength in her arms to drag her body free. Biceps shaking 
from the effort, Gabrielle finally fell against the dirt, too 
strained to try any more.

He sat up, rubbing his head where she'd hit him and she hoped, 
meanly, that he was seeing double, at least. He sat on her back 
when she tried to get up. "Spunk'll just get you killed. Better 
off learning that right now, girl. Or the Romans'll beat it out 
of you."

"Like you aren't planning to already?" She rolled over, using her 
hips to throw him aside, and sat up.

"Nope. My job's to get you to the boat. What the slave trader 
does with you on board is his business, not none of mine." He 
stood, brushing dirt and dead leaves from his tunic and breeches.

"You're Greek. Why'd you get into slaving for the Romans?" Pulled 
to her feet, Gabrielle fell against her captor suddenly, and 
found the ropes on her wrists cinched a bit tighter. Her scalp 
itched from the dirt and debris and she wished for a free hand to 
scratch.

"C'mon," he said instead, dragging her with him through the 
woods.

Her likeliest escape attempt foiled, Gabrielle tried to find 
something heartening to think about. It did indeed look like, 
some miracle not intervening... Next stop, Rome. Between her 
queasy stomach and the isolation of being among several guards, 
escape from the boat would be extremely unlikely. Once in Rome 
however...

Xena! The bard's mind cried out for her friend and lover. It had 
been a full day since their separation. If the warrior was close, 
she was well hidden. Gabrielle wondered again what might have 
happened after the roadside battle. If she had even been capable 
of pursuit. Warrior Princess or not, Xena wasn't invincible. 
While she might have dispatched their other attackers, Gabrielle 
realized with a sinking heart, she could have taken a disabling 
blow herself. Please, gods, let Xena be all right. Gabrielle's 
prayer was aborted as quickly as it began when her captor yanked 
her out of the deeper brush onto the sea-bound path. The ground 
sloped away and she stumbled forward several steps.

"Watch your feet," he warned and she thought she detected a note 
of concern in his gruff voice. She couldn't tell if he cared if 
she fell flat on her face or if he was more concerned about 
damaging the "merchandise." More likely the latter, she thought 
grimly. 



It was late morning when Gabrielle's stomach really began 
informing her she hadn't eaten any breakfast. Her captor had 
other ideas. He threw her into the bushes and ducked onto a road 
angling toward their position in the woods. She worked herself 
free of the brambles in the bush and edged out into the open on 
her secured hands and knees. It wouldn't be fast, she realized, 
but perhaps I can make it difficult for him to follow me. She 
scuffled along the ground. Her stomach growled angrily. She began 
eyeing the berries on the bush next to her despite her knowledge 
that they were poisonous. Nerves and lack of food were set aside 
however when she heard and then spotted her captor came crashing 
back through the brush, dragging a thick-shouldered bay gelding 
behind him.

He dropped the rope and quickly hauled her out of the bush. 
"Trying to get away, eh?" He flipped her onto her back and 
scowled down into the bard's face. He threw a bag at her and 
ordered, "Eat." Foiled in her attempt at escape and hungry enough 
to eat a whole rabbit alone, Gabrielle just wrestled with the 
drawstring long enough to dump the contents into her lap. Dried 
meat, a small hunk of drying cheese and a half-chewed loaf of 
hard crust bread crumbled into smaller pieces when they hit the 
tan leather of her skirt. Grabbing up a piece of the dried cheese 
she popped it in her mouth and chewed quickly, nearly choking. 
"Slow down," he ordered. "We're sharing."

The food isn't enough for one person, Gabrielle thought. How can 
we share this? But he snatched away both the bread and the meat, 
leaving her only the cheese to consume, which she quickly did.

"All right," he ordered. "Up on the horse." He pulled her to her 
feet, even as she choked down the last bit of cheese. "Up!" he 
said, cupping her foot in his palm and throwing her onto the 
horse's back. Without a saddle to grip she almost fell off the 
other side. Instinct made her grab for the black mane and she 
wove her fingers through the locks.

He swung up behind her, also finding it hard to adjust to a non-
saddle seat. As fast as she thought about tossing herself off, he 
had grabbed the rope he'd strung around the horse's head in a 
makeshift bridle, and they were riding toward the sea. She tried 
to sit forward, not touching his body, but the rocking of the 
horse and the lack of a saddle made her back hurt very quickly. 
To ease it, she let herself rest against him. His breathing in 
her ear despite her tension created a soothing rhythm. She found 
herself drifting in and out of sleep.



Gabrielle opened her eyes when she smelled a salty edge to the 
air as they dropped closer and closer to the sea level port town 
where her captor would meet up with his slave trader's boat. Gods 
preserve me, she remembered the imploring plea from her youth, 
but the hope behind the words was not there. The Olympians likely 
had more to worry about than a lone kidnapped bard, already well 
on her way to Rome.

The horse passed under a tree and pinecones rattled down from the 
branches overhead, striking the horse's neck and making it 
skitter. Gabrielle was crushed in her captor's attempt to settle 
the horse and regain control.

It must have been sheer luck... bad luck, Gabrielle thought, that 
the scared horse didn't dump her and keep running with her 
kidnapper aboard. I'd gladly suffer a broken neck just to remain 
in Greece, she decided. Busy keeping the horse in line, her 
captor was not in any position to grab her or counter the 
struggle. She pushed off the horse's withers, launching herself 
only slightly off the horse's back, and the momentum was enough 
to throw her weight to one side. She dropped toward the ground.

An obscene crack echoed in her ears as her shoulder impacted the 
ground ahead of the rest of her body. Agony cascaded through her 
chest and she began to fade out from the pain. Only vaguely did 
she register rough hands throwing her over the horse's back and 
black edged her vision. The first jolt of the horse into motion 
once again completed Gabrielle's trip into darkness.



Xena opened her eyes and moved her head judiciously from side to 
side, scanning her surroundings. She decided the pain was 
tolerable. The tent's interior draping hung in dark hues, holding 
away the daylight trickling in from outside. She wondered how 
long she'd been asleep.

Much was silhouetted in the shadows, but she did make out a table 
in the middle of the tent. There were papers and maps spread out 
across its surface, and she started to roll over to a sitting 
position to go examine them when a voice broke the silence.

"You're awake."

Her tone was dry. "Unless the dead roll over in their sleep."

"You grouse still as good as ever."

Xena sat up, eyeing the man sitting in a chair mostly hidden by 
the shadows. Mendices held a rolled up map in one hand, and 
braced the other elbow on the chair arm, resting his chin in his 
palm and staring at her. She pushed out of the bed, letting the 
covers fall away, and stood on shaky legs, but her expression was 
grim, determined. "So, did we successfully rout Tuminius?"

"Tuminius? Who's he?" He offered her a look of sincere 
bewilderment.

Xena frowned. "The battle yesterday. On the hills outside 
Amphipolis. Did we rout the bastard or not?"

He paused, considering that for a long moment it seemed. Then by 
way of answer, he said, "Don't you always rout them the first 
time?" He offered a cocksure smile and that brought up an 
answering one in her.

"All right then. Give me a tally of the wounded. And our 
casualties."

"Not much. A few scrapes." He chuckled. "Mostly from their 
revelry last night."

Xena pursed her lips and slowly crossed the dirt floor of the 
tent. She made to lean against the table, but her balance shifted 
enough and her injuries were still troubling her enough that the 
lean became more of a fall, and she was bracing herself more than 
standing. "Let me see the maps."

He had stood and braced his body against the mid-tent pole, 
crossing his arms over his chest. "We're going on another raid?"

"I'm going up into the hills to make sure that Tuminius is dead," 
she responded coldly.

Mendices stood and passed over the map of the Corinthian 
province. He watched her eyes as she unrolled it slowly and laid 
it out on the table. They narrowed slightly and then darkened 
from summer sky blue to midnight. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Where the hell is the map of Corinth?!" She crumbled the paper 
in her fist and turned her angry gaze on him.

"That is the map of Corinth."

"This is not Corinth. I know my own home area. I control it." She 
made a step toward him and despite her impaired condition, he 
took a step back from the ire in her eyes. "What are you trying 
to pull?" She shook the map at him. "This says I control nothing 
in this province... and we both know. That. Is. A. Lie!" She 
threw the map at him and turned around. The sudden motion threw 
her head into a spin, and her balance shifted dramatically. 
Mendices was at her shoulder, grasping her torso in a steadying 
embrace before she could think. She caught her breath and felt 
her blood boil. "Get your hands off me!" she hissed through 
gritted teeth.

"If I let go, you're gonna fall on your face."

She ground out, "Just. Do. It." She pushed against his arms and 
found them surprisingly immovable. She watched his arms separate 
slowly, releasing the pressure on her chest by degrees. She 
stiffened her good leg, and waited... impatiently... for freedom.

He slipped one arm entirely away but keeping one still tucked in 
the space around her ribcage, but only touching her feather-
light. Her breathing hitched, and the shift of her body began to 
threaten to go past her center of balance. She swayed. He began 
to retighten his single arm, but her arms, all the while her 
wrists radiating insistent messages of pain, pushed between them 
and kept his hands away. With effort she moved her good leg 
forward, resettling her balance. "That'll be all," she said, not 
turning to look at him.

She remained standing in the center of her tent as she listened 
to the sounds of Mendices' departure. His leather attire made a 
slight creaking sound as he moved toward the entrance. Only when 
she heard the tent flap fall back into place did Xena let out the 
breath she was holding, and the tears escaped her eyes.

Confusion ruled for a long moment as she stood there wondering 
what to do next. She spotted her weapons on the floor where she'd 
dropped them the evening before and set her injured uncooperative 
body one goal: to put her weapons and other accoutrements of war 
into order.

The task of simply collecting the weapons and seating herself in 
a chair at a worktable raised sweat on her brow. Bending, 
stretching and balancing, she moved her chakram to the bench 
first. Then acknowledging she probably wouldn't want to move 
again, she turned back and picked up the sword. Its blade scraped 
the floor as she held it with her braced left wrist. She shifted 
the weapon into her other hand and managed to get it onto the 
table. Her muscles were trembling from exertion when she finally 
lifted the cuirass, having laid it over her forearm. Steady on 
her feet she finally sat in the chair, laying out the cuirass by 
letting it slide from her arms. She could feel a light trickle of 
blood as wounds reopened under the bandages bled anew. She took 
several deep breaths and tried to calm herself, tightening a 
bandage here and there until she didn't feel the warm traces of 
blood anymore.

She wondered what had happened to the woman slave she'd had 
before the battle. No matter, she decided. It would be good for 
her to do this work. Idle hands made her crazy. She struck flint 
to the wick of a tallow candle in a bowl on the table and picked 
up the edge of the cuirass, holding it into the light.

Finding no dents or scratches, she lifted the small cloth from 
next to her hand at the table and worked in small circling 
strokes on improving the shine of the brass overlay. The flame 
began to sputter in the well of melted wax before she was 
finished.

Putting down the cuirass, she wiped her sweat-soaked brow on her 
forearm. She turned around slowly in the chair and noticed the 
rumpled bed.

She knew she ought to lie down. The exhaustion of simply working 
with her armor had shortened her breathing considerably. A noise 
outside drew her gaze to the entry. Then again, she thought, my 
army hasn't seen me in nearly two days. She needed to assert her 
command again, and quickly. She weighed the benefits of a nap 
against the need to at least appear in the company of her men. 
The stubbornness of command won out.

She pushed to her feet, using the polishing cloth to pat the 
sweat from her arms, face and throat. The smell of brass polish 
filled her nostrils and she coughed. The ache wasn't as bad, she 
realized as the coughing fit subsided. I can do this.

More confidence in her step, Xena moved to the tent flap and 
pushed it aside with one hand. She braced the other on the thigh 
of her left leg, easing away some pressure from walking on the 
near-break. At the tent doorway she lifted a thick gnarled stick, 
about three-quarters as tall as she was, and leaned heavily on it 
as she emerged from the darkness.

Late afternoon sunlight bathed her face in a refreshing warmth. 
She straightened a bit more and stepped out onto the main walk of 
her camp.

Men reclined by small fires, repairing their weapons and trading 
stories. She could hear their voices rise and fall, but not 
distinguish the words. Old ones, young ones, those with bulks of 
muscles and those with just bulk. Each man seemed to sense she 
was there, and turned to look at her.

She put a smile on her features, one that held both feral 
eagerness for battle and the dourness of command. The expression 
garnered salutes before each man returned to his task. A few 
continued to curiously watch her as she moved steadily, but 
slowly along the camp paths. As she passed one cluster of men 
leaning against an oak tree, a man near the back separated from 
and moved quickly off into the woods. Xena considered that, and 
figured he was only just noticing he was late for guard duty. She 
wasn't in any shape to reprimand him, and besides, she couldn't 
recall his name.

So she left it alone. Nervous, surprised looks followed her as 
she moved on again.

She made it all the way out to the training field, leaning 
against a tree when she reached the large clearing. Just beyond, 
men practiced with swords, staves, and all manner of weapons. Not 
drawing attention to herself and knowing her presence would be 
remarked on soon enough, Xena was content to feel the sun on her 
face, the light breeze on her arms, and listen to the arrhythmic 
clanging of weapons. Hidden mostly by shadow except for her face, 
she focused on the metal clashes and let her heartbeat echo it.

"Good group." Xena looked up as Mendices came alongside her. He 
answered her look before she could voice the question. "Men said 
you'd come out of your tent."

"Yeah," she responded, letting her gaze travel back over the 
field now that she knew who had come upon her. Mendices seemed to 
be debating with himself to say something, but finally stopped 
fidgeting and reclined next to her against the tree's wide trunk. 
"I appreciate the rescue yesterday," she said quietly.

"Anytime," he replied, just as quietly.

She shifted on her walking stick and felt the slight pressure 
when their shoulders touched, looking up into his brown eyes for 
a long silent moment. Then slowly two dark heads, unwilling to 
acknowledge their closeness, swiveled away to level their gazes 
on the troops.

 

Sunset found them walking back into camp surrounded by tired men, 
too tired to notice that their Commander walked with pain in most 
of her steps. Mendices walked slowly next to her. They both 
acknowledged the men's greetings, but the aroma of meals cooking 
soon distracted everyone toward thoughts of dinner.

Though Mendices suggested she eat in her tent, Xena was 
determined to show her men she was still capable. That required 
being out among them as much as possible. She settled without 
assistance on a log next to a fire about fifty paces from her 
tent. Mendices hovered until she turned a stern look on him.

At which point he looked over his shoulder and then shrugged 
settling to the ground, crossing his legs over each other. He 
accepted a bowl of the deer meat stew and began, like Xena, 
digging into it with his fingers. After only a single bite he 
passed the bowl away and walked away from the fire. His face, 
Xena noticed, was an almost comical study in distaste.

She finished her meal, curiosity driving her after Mendices. 
Getting up however proved a problem. She moved slowly to ease the 
ache of her muscles, and covered it with a series of exchanged 
handshakes and ribald jokes, with her men, which though the words 
fell from her easily, seemed unusual somehow.

"Are we heading out again in the morning, Commander?" one soldier 
asked. A buddy elbowed him in the ribs and rolled his eyes in 
warning. Hazel eyes examined her from a face framed in dirty, 
lank blonde hair, cut short. An unruly cowlick swirled atop his 
head.

Xena couldn't pin a name on the young face and replied only, 
"You'll know in the morning." She straightened completely after 
that and walked away, following the direction Mendices had taken.



Ares walked aimlessly among the trees until he was certain no one 
from the camp would see him. Then he found his way to a 
promontory overlooking the valley. Fishing in his belt pouch he 
withdrew a reed whistle. He blew three trill notes, very like the 
call of ravens.

"You called?" Hermes stepped from behind a tree.

"Well, what'd you find out?"

"Straight to the point hmmm? Got troubles?"

"Just tell me damn it... Where is Gabrielle?"

"I saw her traveling in the company of a man headed for the sea," 
Hermes replied.

"Willingly?"

"Seemed like it. She was asleep in his arms."

Ares frowned. "That doesn't sound like Gabrielle. She's too 
attached to Xena to go tripping off after some man, no matter how 
hot blooded." He grinned remembering something he'd felt between 
them when one of Aphrodite's spells gone awry had resulted in his 
traveling with the bard for a couple of days. "Actually the more 
hot-blooded the less likely she'd be to fall for him." He pointed 
at Hermes. "You'd better keep an eye on her."

Hermes pouted, but wiped away his expression at a stern glare 
from the God of War. "Those duds become you," he remarked, 
noticing for the first time Ares' attire.

"Yeah, well, the old familiar is helping Xena feel right at 
home."

"Any idea yet what's up with her?"

"Seems she fell off a cliff and forgot the last ten years."

Hermes put a thoughtful fist under his chin. "No kidding?" he 
said, obviously not believing that Ares didn't have anything to 
do with it.

"Well, I can't say that I'm unhappy with the results," the god 
admitted. "But something is still out of place," he mused. "And 
I'm sure I've got to pin it down before too much more happens."

Hermes nodded. "Yeah, keep me posted." He snapped his fingers and 
levitated before he was a streak of gold and white against the 
darkening evening sky and vanished within moments.

Ares had already put his visit with the messenger god out of his 
mind. Now what is it about Xena that has me so uneasy about this? 
Putting one foot in front of the other he continued to meander 
through the woods.

He paused at the bank of a small spring and looked out over the 
water. He could see grasses and weeds growing up through the 
placid surface. Though outwardly the same as ten years ago, 
Xena's behavior was just slightly different. Was she holding out 
on him? Playing a game?

As wily as she was, he could never be sure. Could he?



The paths were dark now, the sun having finally descended well 
below the horizon. Xena moved along carefully. The light thud of 
the stick intermingled with her slightly heavier than normal 
treading. She was mindful that should she trip over a root or 
something she was entirely alone and likely would rebreak or 
aggravate any one of her injuries. The light sounds of the 
cicadas surrounded her, and the sharp smell of running water 
reached her nostrils. She followed that smell, and found herself 
stepping out alongside a small spring.

She watched the eddies and swirls in the surface before noticing 
where they originated. Over to her left, she realized, Mendices 
sat poking a branch repeatedly into the water. His brown eyes 
watched the ripples as they widened and dissipated from their 
source. His dark hair hung in loose curly tangles around his 
face. In the moonlight she could identify it as brown. His skin 
was swarthy, seeing as much sun as rain in its day, she imagined, 
although he'd told her once he wasn't all that much older than 
she was.

She recalled their first meeting: he a captured villager and she 
atop her horse, and took a step toward him. "Don't," he said, not 
looking up.

She stopped in mid-stride leaning against a tree trunk for 
support. "Something wrong?"

"You never asked me that before," he said. The expression in his 
voice seemed somewhere between awe and pain.

"I don't understand."

"What's to understand?" he replied, his voice tensing even as his 
shoulders squared and tried to shrug.

She wanted him to look at her. Suddenly the desperate need to 
connect with Mendices somehow overwhelmed Xena. "I've been 
wondering," she said, knowing most men didn't talk about feelings 
easily. "Why didn't you just leave me on the battlefield? Take 
over this army yourself." The easiness of her voice drew his gaze 
up to hers. She took advantage of the eye contact to move in and 
settle on the same outcropping of tree roots where he'd settled.

"I couldn't do that," Mendices replied. "You're my commander."



In the instant he said those words, Ares felt a jolt of pain 
erupt in his stomach. Moron, he castigated himself, all the while 
keeping his gaze level to Xena's. He waited to see how she would 
respond.

"Commands come and go, but... thanks for your loyalty." The 
simple sentence hit Ares like a battering ram. If only you knew, 
Xena. By the gods, if you only knew. She looked away from him and 
out over the lake. "I think I hit my head harder than I first 
thought," she said. "I seem to be forgetting something."

Ares set aside the branch and looked out over the water. "It's 
too calm. Seems there ought to be a battle going on somewhere."

"Was the map true? Do I control nothing?"

While it sank his warrior's heart to realize that she really 
didn't seem to know what was odd about her memories and her 
present situation, Ares was hesitant to answer, to break her 
bubble of contentment. "Um, well, yeah," he answered. "Corinth is 
a free Greek province now."

"I did forget some important things then." She squared her 
shoulders and then let them fall. "What am I fighting for?"

Now Ares was on more familiar ground. "You're fighting for a 
better world, Xena. A world ruled by order and discipline, not 
chaos and chance." He considered that he'd never been this close 
to getting her back to his side and started to reach for her 
shoulder.

Sounds of running boots and a body or several crashing through 
the underbrush drew both his and Xena's gazes back toward the 
woods. Ares pulled his hand back, resting it on the ground 
between them. Their conversation was set aside for the moment. 
Ares identified the runner for her. "Miletus, what is it?" The 
young man was out of breath when he came upon the spring.

"Romans, sir. Commander." Miletus turned to Xena. His face was 
smooth, pale and cheeks reddened from exertion.

Xena's eyes lit up with the fire of challenge. "We'll be right 
there. Get the men geared up." She was already coming to her 
feet. Her injuries all but forgotten in the rise of her body's 
eagerness for battle.

Ares waited until Miletus was out of earshot before telling her, 
"You just fell off a cliff. You're in no shape to do battle."

"Mendices, I am not allowing the Romans overrun Greece," she shot 
back, moving with a determined grimace back up the path toward 
camp. Ares had to shove a lot of underbrush out of the way in 
order to keep up. He was amazed at her ability to ignore the 
pain. It certainly wasn't the first time, he'd seen it, but he 
was beginning to see Xena with new eyes. "Since when did you have 
a fight with Rome?"

"They have a commander, Julius Caesar..."

"He's head of their whole government now!"

The new information caused Xena to pause. Then, the light Ares 
had always wanted to see gleamed in her eyes. "Then I'll tear 
this legion apart first and turn on Rome next."

Ares must have still looked doubtful because she asked next, "Are 
you with me, or against me, Mendices? I need to know that right 
now."

Ares met her gleaming blue eyes and wondered why he even 
hesitated. He offered a silent Sorry Caesar you're on your own 
and nodded his head. Finding his voice he finally answered, "I'm 
with you."

She grinned, not unlike a wolf ready to tear into a pack of 
elderly deer. Her tone was feral. "Good."

Ares had the distinct impression that she would have attempted to 
kill him had he refused. The feeling was not a triumphant one, he 
realized as he followed her quickly back to camp.

Continued in Part 2