Disclaimers:
The following story is classified as Fan Fiction. The characters of
Xena, Gabrielle and others who have appeared in the series, Xena:
Warrior Princess, are the property of MCA/Universal Television and
Renaissance Pictures. I only borrowed them. The story itself is mine
and cannot be redistributed in any form without my consent.
Spring evening. 22 years ago. Temple to Ares, God of War.
Darkness. Ares' favorite time of day, thought the man stepping
out in full armor to the clearing before the temple. Appreciative
blue eyes traveled up the massive columns of the temple's
entrance. The flared frill style at the top and bottom of each
was unique to the temples of this region and appropriately called
Corinthian.
Corinth province, the largest organized area outside Athens, had
been won for Ares by Atrius of Amphipolis, and other men like
him. Warriors all, they separated from family for months on end
to secure the Corinthian borders and the seaside from invasion,
season after season.
Atrius couldn't remember a time when he had not served the
greater will of the God of War. From the moment he had, as a pre-
adolescent, raised his first sword to the skies, the dark-haired
thick-chested man was compelled by Ares' battle cry, feeling it
pulse through his veins, his head and his heart.
He studied the likeness of Ares, a marble statue at the entrance
to the supplicants' altar, and whispered thanks. Thanks for
direction, for purpose, for life on the battlefield.
"And for my daughter," Atrius recalled to himself. The girl, his
second child with Cyrene of Amphipolis, was a precious seven
years old today, and had lifted a sword in play against her older
brother, Toris, for the first time. There was no joy greater for
a warrior than to see his children reveal the same bloodlust, the
same courage. No matter the age.
Atrius was doubly thankful to Ares, for his first child had been
a sore disappointment. Already ten summers old, Toris would not
lift a sword, preferring the crooked farming implements of the
field to the sleek shininess and sharp slice of a finely honed
battle blade. Atrius blamed Cyrene for the softness of his oldest
son's heart, which is why he had taken both Xena and the
youngest, Lyceus, quickly in hand as soon as they were weaned
from their mother's breast.
Already, Xena, and the blond echo of her slender darkness,
Lyceus, were excellent riders knowing how to lead a horse with
only the legs, even at the tender ages of seven and six. Atrius
fostered in them all the skills they would require as warriors,
quickness, tracking, horse and weapon handling.
Which brought him to this visit to Ares. Atrius had seen the
darkness well up in his daughter when she held her brother at
swordpoint. It was time to discover her destiny as the God of War
commanded it.
Atrius pulled the small supply sack off his shoulder and knelt on
one knee to rummage through its contents. Finally, he came up
with the wooden sword his daughter had wielded, and the caged
adolescent lynx he'd trapped as a sacrifice to call upon his
patron deity.
Lifting the lynx free of the cage, and solemnly enduring the
vicious scratching of the animal, Atrius approached the guards at
the entrance. "I have come to offer sacrifice to Ares."
Nodding at the display of the lynx and the wooden sword, the
guard stepped aside and pushed open the heavy doors to the
temple's interior. "Mind you, be careful. Ares is upset about the
loss of his troops in his latest battle with Athena."
"I may have the answer to his prayers." It came out as a barely
murmured comment, but the thought, now finding voice, heartened
Atrius as he stepped inside. His armor, studded leather after the
kind half of Greece wore, was well oiled and did not creak in the
quiet of the temple corridor.
Torches in wall sconces cast their flicker every ten paces
illuminating the homage mural the Corinthian artisans had made
following the liberation war from Athens. It depicted the
Corinthians in close hand-to-hand, only a generation past,
driving away the Athenian soldiers from fields of browning hay
grasses and golden flax. Striking blows pushing the Athenians
away from seaports full of foreign trading ships, and the locals'
fishing boats.
The imagery was presided over by the glorified image of Ares,
garbed in his impenetrable black armor, looking down with a
satisfied arrogant black-eyed glare. Gauntlet protected arms
crossed over a massive chest. Greaves-covered legs spread wide,
straddling a map of Corinth. Down in the opposite corner, looking
up past the Athenian troops at the victorious Ares was the broken
body of an owl, the representative of Athena.
The godly brother and sister had been opponents since before the
dawn of history, each wanting to prevail and rule all of Greece.
Their primary battleground was the border between Athens and
Corinth.
Atrius looked to the priest standing by the altar, and presented
the lynx. With a nod, the priest passed over the short ceremonial
dagger. The blade, shaped like a writhing snake, glinted in the
firelight from the altar flames. Atrius turned it over and over
in his hand. This was as close to Ares as he'd ever been. Always
here, sacrificing, praying for superior strength. He'd prayed to
Ares for guidance when his wife wanted him to be a farmer; and
been rewarded with a battle he had to flee to the very next day.
Ares had always answered his supplications, but never in a
personal manifestation. It was the one thing Atrius missed when
he came to the temple each time. He began sprinkling the
collection of herbs atop the altar preparing it according to
ritual tradition.
"I praise you, Ares, every moment of my days with the blood of
your enemies and those of the Corinthian state. Amphipolis is a
great center, a leader throughout the known world in commerce and
exportation of war goods, as you desire."
Atrius raised the knife and looked into the eyes of the lynx,
which struggled beneath the hold of his massive fist in its neck
fur. "Blood calls the warrior... Sings in his veins every day of
his life. Songs of killing, of battles and vengeance. My blood
sings your song, Ares. I offer it to you!" With a vicious slice
through the jugular of the small predator cat, Atrius spilled the
sacrificial blood in great spurts over the marble altar stone. As
the spurts slowed, he dashed the body on the cardinal points of
the square top. "Praise to the God of War! Praise Ares!"
Atrius flung the carcass of the lynx onto the fire of the altar,
watching with heaving breath, excitement pounding in his veins,
as the glowing orange flames devoured the flesh. When it was
charred thoroughly, he looked up the altar's spires, toward the
ceiling, and the likeness of Ares carved into the dark stone
overhead. The likeness pulsed in the firelight, seemingly alive,
and Atrius directed his next remarks to the image.
"Today, I had another sign that I have served you as you desire,
my lord Ares. My daughter, now seven winters old, raised a sword
-- this sword." He held it high overhead inn both hands, showing
it to his patron. "And I saw the lust, the intent, the promise in
her blue eyes. I know within her small chest beats the heart of a
warrior, as it never did in my son, Toris. With the consumption
of this sword -- the mark of her first steps into your service,
my lord -- I wholly commit her to you!"
Atrius tossed the sword now into the fire alongside the lynx
carcass, smoking as it finished being consumed. "I commit the
soul of Xena to the service of the God of War... to you, mighty
Ares!"
With the firelight glowing in his blue eyes, Atrius watched the
sword with excitement. It was untreated wood, yet for the longest
time the flames only licked along it, rather than consuming it.
As it began to catch, at the narrowed tip, and in the pommel,
suddenly it leapt from the flames, becoming suspended over the
altar fire.
Surprise made Atrius back up judiciously and he looked around to
see if anyone else witnessed his private miracle. A voice boomed
from above the altar, seemingly from the sword itself:
"Atrius, you serve me well, offering appropriately and frequently
the gifts of blood and service I require." Atrius nodded,
dumbstruck for the moment, and unable to find his tongue.
A form began to coalesce on the altar, amid the licking flames
and the drying blood. In the hand, which materialized first,
rested the sword Atrius had tossed into the flames.
Atrius fell to his knees as the massive human form of Ares, God
of War, finished forming in a sitting position on the altar. He
was turning the scorched wooden sword over and over in his hands.
"Atrius!" Ares leapt off the altar and threw the sword down at
their feet. "Do not presume to tell me in whom I should invest my
time. A girl child is nothing to me. Nothing!" Ares turned his
back on Atrius and ran a finger through the blood pool on the
altar. His eyes gleamed with pleasure at the sweetness of the
odors.
Atrius "I only serve you, my lord. To whom else would I even
consider offering her skills in service?" Ares spun. Atrius
backed up.
"What would I do with a woman warrior?" Ares spat. "Women are
weak, a girl child even more so. Better you should kill her, than
think the bring her to me."
Atrius cowered, but he firmly believed Xena was for Ares. Perhaps
he should have investigated her Fate first with a visit to the
Temple of the Sister Fates. "I know not exactly what her future
holds, Lord Ares. But I swear on my honor to you, I did see the
fire. Hear the pulse pounding through her body in time with the
warrior's heart. I saw the fire in her eyes." He stood but
stepped back. "It is the same fire in your eyes, my lord. I see
it myself every moment during battle. It is there."
Ares shook his head. Probably there wasn't any harm in seeing the
girl. Finally he raised a hand toward the entrance. "If she is so
special, bring her here! Let me see for myself if the fire of war
consumes her."
Atrius bowed deeply. "Anything you desire, my lord Ares. I
promise you she is everything you could desire to mold into your
finest warrior."
Ares shook his head. "We'll see. Bring her to me before dawn and
I'll see."
Atrius stumbled from the altar area and out into the night air.
Its cool crispness did nothing to quell the confusion and elation
warring for dominance in his body. "Xena to Ares. I
must bring
Xena to Ares." Continuing to mutter, Atrius clutched the dagger
tighter in his hand, dripping with the blood of the lynx. He
shouldered his sack only absently, spilling its contents because
he had not secured it before setting it upside down on his
shoulder.
Scrabbling in the dirt, he collected up his belongings and the
container of herbs he'd used to bring a pleasing aroma to the
altar. "Must bring Xena," he murmured again, finally settling the
pack safely on his shoulder. He secured the ritual dagger in his
own thigh sheath and dashed back through the woods toward
Amphipolis, home and Xena.
The moon was only another single notch higher in the sky when
Atrius stumbled into the village, and turned down the central
road toward the inn his wife ran to make the family income. His
first thought, as he looked at the hulking structure, two stories
and long amidst tiny single family huts and overshadowing the
inn's stables, was that there was still a candle alight in his
daughter's room, despite the lateness of the hour.
"Cyrene!" He yelled into the silence of the night, calling for
the bride of his father's choosing. For a moment he had a brief
spurt of pride in his wife, for birthing him the child which
would curry him the ultimate favor from Ares.
A slender woman appeared at the entrance to the inn, waving her
hands for silence. "Hush, you foolish man! Gods be praised you
are home."
"Where is Xena?" Atrius would not waste words when he could feel
his prize so close. "Ares wants her."
Cyrene's face lost its smile and she shook her head. "No. No,
Atrius."
"You will not gainsay me wife! Xena is for Ares!" Atrius shoved
her aside and looked into the tavern. "She is up in her room?"
Atrius looked over his shoulder at Cyrene and the woman
frantically shook her head.
Voice quivering as Atrius loomed over her, Cyrene shook her head
again. "No, no!" Atrius pulled the dagger from its sheath.
"Do you see this, wife? Ares himself has given me a mission. I
have never failed him. I will not withhold anything he desires!"
Cyrene pushed him. Atrius shoved her and then grabbed her by the
linen of her dress. Both heard it rip, and Cyrene shivered. "I
will kill you if you stand in my way!" He shoved his face into
hers and growled. "I swear it on Ares!" He shoved her away from
him.
Cyrene frantically beat on him forcing him back from the inn. She
screamed at him and yelled prayers to Hestia for strength. "You
will not give my daughter to Ares!" They separated. She ran for
the kitchen of the inn and a large carving knife. He ran for the
stables and a large axe for woodcutting. Charging each other,
Atrius swung first and praise to Hestia, Cyrene managed to duck
in time. The axe chipped into the doorway of the inn with a loud
thunk. Atrius ripped it from the wood and turned, only to feel
the carving knife cut deep in his right shoulder. The axe fell
from his suddenly nerveless hand.
"If she is for Ares, her fate is written already, wife! The gods
hold dominion. I will expend my life seeing that the will of Ares
is obeyed!" He spun on her, bloodlust to serve his god plainly
filling his blue eyes.
Cyrene felt the rage coursing through her at her husband's desire
to sacrifice their daughter to Ares and seized on it even as she
grasped the handle of the axe. So large she should be barely able
to heft it, the axe felt suddenly at home in her small palms and
she swung only once, burying the axe head deep in her husband's
chest.
Atrius fell to the ground, his eyes wide and his mouth open to
yell even as there was suddenly no breath to make a sound.
Cyrene let go the axe handle and shivered from reaction. "Oh, the
gods!" she whispered in astonishment. "What have I done?" Looking
around suddenly aware she was standing in the middle of
Amphipolis' deserted main road, Cyrene saw no one else on the
dark street.
Her heart raced and she grabbed her husband's arms. She dragged
him out of the open night air. The nearest place was the stable,
its dark interior could conceal her crime until she could figure
out what to do.
Cyrene dug through the night, placing her husband under the sod
of the rearmost stall. The dirt was soft and she was able to dig
it deep enough to bury her husband, and the memory of her crime.
Shivering in the pre-dawn air, Cyrene hurried away from the
stable and returned to the room above the inn she had shared with
her husband.
As the sunlight began to break the night darkness, she heard
movement in the next room. Xena's room. Cyrene laid back in bed
and waited for the girl's ritual of coming to fetch her father
for their morning ride.
A quiet knock sounded at the door. "Come in, Xena."
Taller than Cyrene remembered from only the day before, Xena, a
slight girl with brunette hair, dressed in a smooth leather tunic
and short boots, peered around the door. "Is Daddy up yet?"
Cyrene sat up in bed, brushing her curly hair from her face. "No.
He .. He did not return home last night."
Xena fingered the bow strapped over her shoulder. "He was going
to teach me to shoot today. Said I was finally big enough."
Cyrene shook her head. "I'm sorry. When he returns, I'm sure
he'll remember."
Xena straightened, and Cyrene's heart tightened at the devotional
look flashing in the girl's eyes. "Of course he will. Daddy never
forgets anything."
Cyrene slid out of the bed and walked toward her daughter. The
two females met in the middle of the bedroom. "Can you help me
get your brothers out of bed this morning?"
Xena looked up at her mother. "I'll get Lyceus! We'll go clean
the stables first."
"Um." Cyrene hesitated. "Not this morning. I need some help
around the tavern today." Certainly, she thought, the children
would not find their father's body, but she wanted to wait a
while before allowing them into the stables. She needed to find a
chance to move the body elsewhere.
Xena pouted, her lower lip protruding delicately. The gesture was
probably the only delicate thing about her hoydenish daughter.
Cyrene smiled. "You and your brothers should stick close for a
while. I don't want you running off into the woods." Cyrene took
a deep breath, and fabricated a lie. "Your father said that the
woods are dangerous right now. Some pirates landed last week and
that's why he left last night."
Xena was quiet for a moment as she turned the explanation over in
her head. "So he went off to fight the pirates?"
Cyrene's smile came in a rush of relief when she heard the pride
in her daughter's voice as Xena accepted the story. "Yes, that's
right. Now, let's go get your brothers and go downstairs."
She put a soft hand on her daughter's shoulder and walked down
the hall alongside Xena toward the boys' bedroom.
Late day found Ares standing in his temple, talking quietly with
his priest.
"I'm certain he will be here soon, my lord Ares," assured the
priest.
"Drunken beast," muttered Ares. "I will wait no longer." The
priest shook his head as Ares turned and strode toward a wall,
disappearing into the ether before reaching it. In the same
instant he put the ravings of a devoted but obviously deluded
warrior out of mind.
THE END
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