The Dreams of Children

Written by TZ
Edited by PD Wonder

Part Three
Copyright August 30, 1998

See Part One for Disclaimers

Xena opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. For a moment, she had the luxury of forgetting where she was and why. When she realized that the wind whipping through the mouth of the cave had wakened her, she rubbed her eyes. The coppery tang of blood filtered through her senses and she stared at her hands. She was not sure where it had all come from, but she knew that some of it was Lyceus'.

Finding her waterskin, she rinsed her hands and face. When she saw that her nails were still stained, she began to cry quietly.

Her brother was dead. Lyceus was gone. She had led her army to slaughter and the God of War had threatened her. If her life had been unbearable before, it had culminated into one bitch of a day.

The ex-warlord smiled tremulously when she heard a soft whicker from Argo. "I still have you, don't I, girl?" Xena went to her horse and found comfort in the familiar smell of her loyal friend.

Argo responded by nuzzling the hair at the warrior's neck.

"We're all alone now, Argo," Xena whispered. "I promised Ly that I'd go home, but I'm afraid," she admitted. "How do I face Mom? Because of me, her little boy is dead. What did Lyceus ever do, but dream? He was an innocent." Xena rubbed her forehead against the mare's neck. "Mom will surely hate me, now...if she didn't before."

Seeing that night had fallen, the warrior began to prepare for travel. After a brisk rubdown, she saddled her horse. She gathered her other things and tied them to the saddle. With a quick glance around the cave, she made sure that she left nothing behind.

"Come on, Argo. We have to keep moving."

The travel was slow, for there was no moon to guide them along their way; heavy clouds hung like spiteful accusations. Xena trusted Argo and gave the mare her head to pick her way along the dark road. Letting the horse navigate by instinct, they made their way west to Arcadia.

Unable to see well, the warrior's other senses were heightened almost preternaturally. Her raw nerves settled after two hours of listening to small animals scamper through the underbrush. She heard a bird of prey capture its dinner and she could not prevent the feral smile that curled her lips. When she realized what she had done, she blushed guiltily. The beast within still lived.

She contemplated the fact for a few moments and she realized a dark truth. Although she had left Ares' influence and corruption, she still harbored a violent nature that had been with her all her life. At one time, she had been afraid to examine the power that coursed through her body during a sparring match or confrontation. After conquering half of Greece, though, she had an intimate knowledge of the fire she tasted in battle. It was like a drug; she had craved it for as long as she could remember.

Her childhood thrashing of Perdicus had been her first real taste of what would later become an addiction. Her desire for physical combat had gone beyond testing her skills; she was the beast that rumbled and roared when she fought.

It had always been that way. It would continue so until battle saw the end of her life. She imagined herself dying young at the end of a blade or arrow. She led a violent life and therefore, she believed she would meet a violent death. Before that happened, though, she just wanted to go home.

As Argo made her way over the western road, Xena recalled the faces of those she had sent to the grave. They had been farmers, merchants, and leaders. She had left families without their fathers and sons. Her shoulders sagged in shame as she envisioned entire villages of women and children left to fend for themselves.

The songs of the first morning birds jarred the warrior from her brooding thoughts. Turning her eyes to the eastern horizon, Xena saw a hint of dawn's arrival. Figuring that she was far enough from Corinth for any search party to find her, she continued on her path. She found a place to rest only when the sun was high and Argo began to complain.

Finding a small stream off the side of the road, Xena dismounted and led Argo to the water. She kneeled and quenched her own thirst. She wiped her hand across her mouth as she raised her head to scan the area. Sensing that they were alone, she untied the waterskins and filled them. As she was bent over her task, a soft snort from Argo alerted her.

Standing casually, she retied the waterskins and let her eyes roam. They came to a stop and narrowed in contemplation when she saw the small wagon burdened with fresh-cut timber that was stopped on the road. Two men, obviously farmers, watched her suspiciously.

With a skill honed from battle experience, she studied the men. Dismissing them as potential threats, she gathered Argo's reins. Keeping her eyes on them, she mounted and roe towards the road. Her keen hearing caught the words that were carried to her on the soft breeze.

"That's her, I tell you," one whispered vehemently.

"I don't know, Plinos, I heard she was killed in Corinth," the other replied. His voice held a trace of awe mixed with fear as he watched the warrior woman ride towards them.

"I'm telling you, Erakin, that's the bitch. I saw her myself in Arcadia. She was leading her army as they went past my fields. That's her horse there. I know it's her."

"So what do we do now?" Erakin asked as he shifted his weight on the wagon seat.

Plinos answered his friend's question by jumping from the wagon. He held a piece of timber in his hands. "I know who you are," he called to the warrior who was nearly upon them. "I'm not afraid of you!" he shouted without hesitation.

Xena halted Argo and watched the man carefully. His eyes held a light she had seen before; they were bright with hungry vengeance. His attack was announced when his eyes widened slightly and his chest expanded with a deep breath.

Slipping her foot from the stirrup, she kicked the timber out of the man's hand. "I'm not here to hurt you," she explained when the attacker's eyes widened even further with newfound fear. "I just want to pass on the road."

Plinos clenched his numbed hands and growled. "My brother served in the Arcadian Cavalry. Because of you, he is dead now."

Xena hung her head in guilt. She turned sorrowful eyes to Plinos. "I regret what happened to your brother. Spilling blood won't bring him back, though. If I knew that it would, I would gladly take my own life."

Plinos eyed the warrior warily as she settled in the saddle. He jumped back when the warhorse moved past. Not wanting the confrontation to end, he spat upon the warrior's back. "May those you've killed haunt you for the rest of your days, warlord."

Xena urged Argo to a gallop. The wind rushing over her face dried her tears before they fell. She tried to ignore the man's curse, but her own guilt gave it credence. She rode away from the two farmers. She tried to distance herself from the facts that were the harsh reality of her past.

She pushed Argo to her limits. When the warhorse was heaving with exertion, Xena dismounted and led the mare off the road. She picked her way cautiously through a dense expanse of forest, searching for a suitable place to camp for the night. When she found a small glade that met with her satisfaction, she patted Argo's neck.

"Here we are, girl. Time to take a rest."

Removing her worldly possessions from the horse's back, the warrior struck her camp. After a brief search around the clearing, she had an armful of wood. Dumping her burden, she knelt to the task of lighting her fire.

Once she finished, she looked up to find Argo cropping at a small clump of short grass. She contemplated the warhorse with a critical eye and sighed. There was only one she could trust enough to expose her back; it just happened to be a horse who needed some tender care. Rising slowly to her feet, the warrior approached her friend; she expressed her love with gentle words and attentive touches.

For an hour, she pampered the warhorse with a brisk rubdown and leisurely brushing. When the mare's coat shone dully in the fire's light, she packed her currycomb into a saddlebag.

She realized that she had not eaten all day when her stomach rumbled in complaint. She found a chunk of soft cheese and a hardened loaf of bread to ease her hunger. She washed it down with hearty swigs from her waterskin. When her basic needs had been taken care of, she settled on her bedroll.

She stared at her fire for endless moments; she thought that perhaps she would find some clue as to how to proceed with her new life. With a mental shrug, she shook her head to clear it and pulled her sword from its scabbard.

Cyrene and Gabrielle jumped in surprise when the tavern door slammed open. They were cleaning the tavern in quiet solitude until four little figures dashed past the bar and into the kitchen. Their ears were assaulted by loud giggles when the girls found the platter of sweets that had been left on the worktable.

The innkeeper shook her head in amusement and narrowed a gaze on her bemused daughter. "I told you, didn't I?"

Gabrielle smiled and nodded. "Who would have guessed? It's only been a week and they're already as thick as thieves."

The older woman snorted and passed a rag over the bar's top once more for good measure. "Hope's more like you than you know. There were times when I thought you and Lyceus were physically attached to Xena. You two spent more time with her than anyone else. Do you remember the trouble the three of you used to get into?"

"We were kids," the bard said as her face took on the glow of childhood memories. "Did she ever tell you about the time that we fed Agates' dog bad sausage?"

The innkeeper gasped as she remembered the stench that had surrounded the old woman's house long ago. Her dog had become terribly ill from some unknown malady. "Please tell me you didn't."

Gabrielle shook her head and raised her hands. "No, we didn't. But Xena did dare Autolycus."

"And I bet he was so smooth about it," the older woman laughed.

"You betcha," the bard grinned.

"Anything else I should know about?" The innkeeper's brow furrowed in thought as she remembered some of the more memorable events of the past. "Keratade's sheep?"

Gabrielle snorted with the memory of the dozen sheep that had been shaved bald overnight. "Draco and Xena," she answered. "I only heard about it afterwards."

"Meleager's horse?"

"Xena."

"You mean to tell me that my daughter charmed a warhorse long enough to paint it with black and white stripes?"

Gabrielle shrugged and grinned. "Actually, I kept feeding it carrots until she finished," she admitted.

The women's trip down memory lane was interrupted by another door slamming open. When the girls came back into the common room, Gabrielle fixed them with a stern look of disapproval. "It is only polite to offer a greeting before devouring all of my hard work," she admonished.

Hope and her three playmates looked at each other and shrugged. "Hello," they chorused before they ran out of the tavern, slamming the door behind them.

"I still can't tell them apart," Cyrene sighed as the dust filtered through the air from the thatch above.

Gabrielle eyed the closed door and smirked. "I can't believe they look so much like Xena," she chuckled.

Cyrene joined in the good humor until the tavern door opened again. Her laughter stopped abruptly when she saw the intense look of sorrow on Meleager's face.

"What?" Gabrielle turned to see the old soldier framed in the bright light of the mid-day sun. His hair was cast in white tones and the weathered lines on his face were drawn tight. For a moment, the bard's breath stopped. She knew without asking that something was wrong.

"Meleager," Cyrene said as she waved the man to enter, "tell us, what is the matter," she entreated, fearful of the news.

Gabrielle grabbed a jug of wine and a tankard before she joined the other two.

"You need to come outside, Cyrene," he whispered as his throat constricted painfully.

Apprehension gnawed on Gabrielle's nerves and she set down her burden. She tried to still her hands' trembling by clasping them in her long skirt. When Cyrene nodded to Meleager, she followed without word.

There was a small crowd of people gathered around a wagon that had pulled up in front of the inn. A death shroud covered the body that lied within. At first, Gabrielle thought that it was Xena and her heart began to pound painfully in her chest. She raised a hand and pressed it against the irregular rhythm. A wailing sob torn from Cyrene's soul startled her.

Her eyes roamed the crowd and settled on two people whose eyes were downcast. She inhaled sharply and she whispered in denial, "No...no, not Lyceus."

Gabrielle chased Cyrene down the few steps to the road and pulled up short when the innkeeper stopped behind the wagon. A look into Pirani's eyes confirmed their worst fears. With a gentle compassion, the bard laid a comforting arm across the widow's shoulders. "Come with me, 'Stepi, you look tired."

The widow began to sob as she sank into Gabrielle's arms. She allowed herself to be led into the tavern.

Gabrielle cast a glance over her shoulder to see Meleager and Pirani offering comfort to Cyrene. "I'll get you something to drink," she said as she seated the other woman at the family table. When she returned with a cool glass of cider, the widow raised grateful eyes that were tearstained.

"What happened, 'Stepi?"

Estepani closed her eyes as she relived the painful moments when Lyceus' body had been returned to the shop. She shuddered when she recalled the feeling of his blood on her hands as she cried over his body. "He went out to stop her," she finally said. "He thought that he could get her to stop."

The hair on Gabrielle's neck prickled with dark premonition; she shivered in fear as she asked, "Who, 'Stepi? Who did he want to stop?"

The weaver's daughter raised her face. Her eyes burned with hatred and her face mottled with grief. "That bitch! Xena killed him. He tried to get her to stop fighting and he was killed."

The color faded from Gabrielle's face. She did not want to believe that Xena had killed her own brother. "No, that's not possible," she said to herself, shaking her head. She jumped when Estepani hurled her mug of cider across the room.

"Yes, it is Gabrielle. She did. You were always so blind to her faults. You followed her like a blind puppy...just like Ly. And now, he's dead. He won't be here to see his child born."

The bard gasped at the widow's outrage and shocking admission. "You're pregnant?"

Estepani snorted when she sat. Unconsciously, she reached up with tapered fingers and began to pull at her hair. "Can you believe it? We thought we had the perfect lives." She began to moan as she rocked back and forth on the bench. "She ruined it. Xena killed my husband. Curse her soul to Tartarus."

"Estepani!"

Only the bard turned to hear the deep censure from across the room; Estepani was too far gone in her grieving to notice that her father had entered the inn. Cyrene, who hovered over the body that was carried by two young village men, followed him. Gabrielle stood and helped her mother to a seat. Sure that the older woman was better off than Estepani, the bard beckoned the young men to follow her to Lyceus' old room.

They deposited the shrouded body on the bed. Gabrielle stood over her friend and prayed to the gods that he would find peace. Opening her eyes, she found the young men watching her carefully. She thanked them for their respectful care and led them out into the common room once more.

When Gabrielle approached the family's table, she heard Pirani talking quietly with Cyrene. She seated herself quietly and listened to the weaver's tale.

"We knew she was coming...she made no secret of it. Ly was determined to stop her. Before she even brought her army to the walls, he had planned to see her. He wanted to find out why she was...doing what she was." Pirani cleared his throat and wet his throat with some wine.

"When her army finally arrived, we were all surprised. They seemed so sick...some of them could barely stand. We all thought she was crazy for leading her men into battle when they were too ill to fight. Lyceus knew, though. When he saw her taking on twenty men by herself, he knew it was a suicide attack."

"What do you mean?" Gabrielle asked as she wrung her hands in trepidation.

"Xena led her army to Corinth with the intent to see it destroyed. She knew they couldn't fight. Corinth has one of the strongest garrisons in all of Greece. It turned into a slaughter."

"Xena...what happened to Xena?"

The weaver fixed the bard with an unreadable look before he answered quietly, "She escaped." Pirani ran a coarse hand over his bald head and he shrugged. "We watched from the walls. She fought off soldiers one by one. None could best her. So, she invited them to attack all at once. When Lyceus realized that she planned to die in the battle, he took off. I couldn't stop

him."

Cyrene nodded absently as she listened to the weaver's tale. "He always was stubborn once he set his mind on something."

"Well, he made it out a side door to the battlefield. Once Xena's army was overwhelmed, no one thought to guard the doors. Everyone wanted to see the victory. There were only a few more soldiers fighting Xena. As she was engaged with two in the front, a third was sneaking up behind her. Before the soldier could deliver the blow, however, Lyceus stepped in front of the blade."

Estepani was roused from her state of shock. "Liar! She killed him. She killed my baby's father."

Gabrielle rushed over to take the woman into her arms; she nearly fell under Estepani's weight as it collapsed once more onto the bench.

Pirani cleared his throat and shook his head. "Lyceus died in Xena's arms. I could hear her cry out over the din of the battle. I don't know what he said to her, but she called for her horse and rode off. She abandoned the battle. Her army was slaughtered...none of her men survived."

Cyrene looked over her shoulder at Meleager who had stayed to hear the tale. "Do you know what happened to her?"

The ex-soldier shook his head slowly. "This is the first I've heard of the battle," he admitted.

"We left soon after," Pirani stated. "I closed up the shop. I knew that Lyceus wanted to be entombed here, so I made plans right away. We've only been traveling a week."

"Thank you, my friend," Cyrene said as she grasped his arm in gratitude. "Will you be staying? I have a couple of available rooms if you need them.

The weaver nodded and sighed as he took his daughter's hand. "We really appreciate it, Cyrene."

The innkeeper showed the couple to their rooms and gave Gabrielle directions for seeing to their comfort. She wished that Toris would hurry home soon. He had gone to the docks with Eresthenes to pick up a shipment of wine from Crete. She wanted to be the one to tell him of his little brother's passing. It was not until she had found refuge in her kitchen that she recalled Estepani's words. With a gasp, she realized that she was going to be a grandmother again.

Sorrow and joy mixed in her heart and she sat with a heavy thud.

"We'll get through this."

The innkeeper looked up to find Gabrielle fidgeting with the vegetables on the worktable. Cyrene knew the pain that the young woman was going through. It was as if she had lost both of her best friends. "We will," the older woman confirmed with a slight nod of her head.

In the accusatory glare of the mid-morning sun, Xena could see the images of phantom soldiers. She had not meant to revisit the battlefield, but some sense of remorse had compelled her to face her past. It seemed like it had happened yesterday. It seemed like it had happened in another lifetime. It had been less than a month.

Broken swords and tributes left by loved ones attested to the fact that a brutal massacre had taken place. The grass was still trampled; blood had leeched deeply into the stones. The rotting carcasses of cavalry mounts had been decimated to bones by the eager attentions of carrion feeders.

Xena closed her eyes tight as the sights and sounds of the recent battle assaulted her memory. She clenched the reins tight in her fist. When Argo began to prance, she opened her eyes. A small group was stepping carefully through the field.

The woman held a bright bouquet of flowers in her left arm; her free hand guided a young boy. An older girl followed solemnly.

The warrior watched as the woman led the children to a spot marked by a solitary headstone. She could not hear the woman's words, but she understood their reason for being there. She nearly ran when the little boy spotted her, but as he approached, she willed herself to face the child.

"Have you come to pay respects," he asked shyly.

Xena cleared her throat and nodded her head. "Was he your kin," she asked with a nod towards the two women.

"My Papa. Mama said his heart broke when he realized he wasn't comin' home. It was real bad. They said his heart was in so many pieces that they had to bury him here."

Looking down into the boy's innocent eyes, Xena felt a lump rise in her throat. He was so young and ignorant of the true reason why his father could not be carried home to his family's ground. Obviously, he had been killed so brutally that the easiest thing to do was gather all the pieces and bury him where he had fallen.

Bile rose from the warrior's gut. She swallowed convulsively to keep it contained. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she whipped Argo about and fled from the field.

She rode like a madwoman in an attempt to escape ghosts of the Arcadian Cavalry. Only when Argo pulled up lame did she stop her flight. Dismounting, she apologized to the mare and winced when she saw the large pebble that had wedged itself under the horse's shoe. "Sorry, girl. Guess I wasn't thinking too clearly."

Pulling out a dagger, Xena pried the pebble loose and gathered the reins. "Better find a smithy to look at that."

With a quick glance to find her location, Xena patted the mare's neck and walked south to a small village her army had passed recently. If they were lucky, they would reach it before nightfall.

"I can re-shoe 'er, but she'd be better to rest for a day."

Xena eyed the smithy for a moment before kneeling to study the hoof he was holding. She smiled grimly when Argo snorted her agreement. "Guess I'm outvoted," she said wryly. "How much for a stall and a place to bunk in your barn?"

The burly smithy rose to his intimidating height, almost a full head taller than the warrior. He scratched his chin in thought. "I 'spose ten dinars'll be enough."

Xena stepped away from the man and moved around Argo so that she could count her money. "Sounds fair," she answered.

"Name's Teripides," the smith said as he held out a meaty hand.

The warrior accepted the gesture and returned it, but withheld her own name. "I appreciate your help."

Teripides nodded and led the way to a clean stall. "You can bunk in the next one," he said as he left her alone.

After settling and feeding Argo, Xena studied the barn. It was clean and bespoke of a man who cared for his animals; several were munching contently on oats and hay. Although the accommodations were more than acceptable, the warrior felt her skin crawl with the need for open spaces. When she saw that the loft doors were open, she climbed up a ladder and crossed to sit next to the open portal.

She could not remember the name of the village. Perhaps she had never known. It reminded her of Amphipolis in a way. People moved leisurely as the day ended with the falling sun. The sounds of children laughing carried to her ears and she smiled wistfully.

The familiar smells of hay and horses lulled her into a dream state that was as pleasant as the villagers greeting each other as they made their ways home.

"Don't laugh!"

Gabrielle clamped her lips tight and covered her mouth. Her efforts were in vain. "I'm sorry, Xena. What happened to you?"

The young woman, covered head to foot in mud and debris, smiled brightly. She stepped from her cover.

The younger girl gasped when she saw the horse Xena led with a rope halter. "Where'd you get that?"

"I caught her," the young warrior stated proudly as she stood to her full height.

"Why," Gabrielle asked as she craned her neck to peer at the horse's face.

"Well, every warrior needs a horse, Gabrielle."

"Says who?"

"You, that's who. Every story you write has a warrior's horse."

The young storyteller blushed and stepped back from the wild mare. "Yeah, well, I always pictured them smaller.

When the horse began to prance and rear, Xena calmed it with soft words of comfort. "I think she likes me."

"Who wouldn't," Gabrielle blurted. Her face turned several more shades of red.

Xena eyed her friend and shook her head. "Sometimes, Gabrielle, you can be so weird." The young warrior grinned crookedly. "But that's why I like ya so much."

In an effort to change the subject, Gabrielle approached the mare once more. "So, what are you going to do with her?"

"Train her, of course. I've been trying to ride her all day. That's how I got like this," she explained as she fingered her muddied clothes.

"All day? When did you catch her?"

Caught up in the rare excitement of wanting to tell a story of her own, Xena patted the mare and urged her forward. When Gabrielle fell into step at her other side, she began her tale.

Xena awoke to the call of a rooster that echoed through the quiet village. She glanced around the barn when she realized that she had slept the whole night through. A shuffling noise below brought her fully awake. She crawled to the edge of the loft and peered cautiously around a bale of hay.

Teripides looked up when he sensed her gaze. He smiled as bright as the morning sun. "Wondered where you'd gone to."

Standing to her full height, the warrior jumped to the floor below. "I needed some fresh air," she answered as she entered Argo's stall and checked the mare's hoof.

"How's it look?"

The warrior released Argo's leg and stood. "Better, but not good enough to travel," she answered with a grimace of disappointment.

Teripides chuckled and beckoned Xena out of the stall. "The impatience of youth," he said when his humor wound down.

"I'm not that young," Xena returned dryly. She could not resist the grin that joined the smithy's renewed laughter.

"Come, warrior, we will break bread."

After a simple breakfast of bread and cheese, Teripides led Xena to his forge. The workroom was neat and clean; weapons of all shapes and sizes adorned the walls.

"You did all of these?"

"Aye."

"They're beautiful," Xena offered as she walked along the far wall.

"And dangerous," the smithy added. "But I assume you already knew that."

Xena turned to find him studying her. She squirmed uncomfortably and returned her attention to the weapons in an effort to ignore his eyes. "What's this," she asked pointing to a round weapon.

Teripides picked up his hammer and examined its head. "A chakram."

"Never saw one of those before," the warrior mumbled to herself.

"Saw it out east. Wicked little thing. When we first saw them, we thought they were toys." He smiled when the warrior's eyes lit with curiosity. She reminded him of himself the first time he saw the exotic weapon.

Xena looked up to see that the smithy's eyes had gone distant. "You were a soldier?"

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the smithy nodded. "Aye. You've heard of the warlord Krykus?"

"Stories."

"He was the most ruthless warlord...until Xena."

Xena shifted uncomfortably under the smithy's sharp eyes. She saw him lean against his worktable; his legs were crossed and his arms were folded in a relaxed manner. Her eyes returned to the weapons on the wall. She stopped before a well-used battle mace. Its head was the size of an infant's and covered with dangerous spikes. "What made you quit?"

Teripides shrugged and replied, "I got tired of the life. When I first joined, I was full of dreams. Wasn't long before they became nightmares."

"What were you...before?"

"A smithy's son. I was second-born, so I knew that the forge would not be mine. I thought that I was better than the life that was planned for me, so I ran away and joined Krykus' army. I was a crazy kid."

Xena finally turned to the smithy. She narrowed her eyes as if to catch a glimpse of his soul. "How did you quit?"

Teripides pushed away from the table and approached the wall of weapons. He took the chakram from the wall and studied the intricate designs he had etched. "One night while on sentry duty, I walked into the forest and never returned."

"Just that easy?"

The smithy nodded and beckoned the warrior to follow him out of the forge. "For some, leaving is the hardest battle they ever fight. For others, it's a simple matter of throwing down their sword. It's the nightmares that catch up to you that are the true test of courage."

Xena followed the burly man until they were in a clearing behind his workshop. She stood back as he indicated and watched with wide eyes when he released the chakram. She gasped when it returned to his hand.

Teripides turned and showed the weapon to the warrior. "It's like life," he said in reference to the weapon Xena was studying. "A circular path that leads us to where we started." He laughed warmly and shook his head. "Look where I ended up," he said as he swung his arm wide to include the quiet village and his forge. "The path was not always so straight or smooth and it had its sharp edges. I had to deal with more than one consequence of my actions."

Xena accepted the chakram that the smithy offered for her examination. Raising her eyes briefly, she saw the somber lines etched upon Teripides' face. "Like what?"

"My boy, for one," the smithy sighed. "I came upon him when I passed through a village that we had raided. He was alone, begging for food. Both of his parents had been killed in the raid and the other villagers were too busy with their own families to be concerned for one little orphan."

"You took him in," Xena guessed.

"Aye. I took him with me. I thought it was the least I could do. I wanted to try to make a new life. He needed it as much as I did. We finally settled here. The village needed a smithy and I knew the skill. My boy and I needed a home. It works out well."

"You've been happy, then?"

Teripides shrugged as his eyes fixed on a distant spot on the road. "Aye. It's not easy, though. The past can be a harsh judge."

Xena turned to find what the smithy was smiling at. A cart was ambling down the road towards the village. She followed the large man as he walked to the front of the forge; the chakram was forgotten in her hands.

They waited a short while as the cart driver navigated the ruts of the well-traveled road. The young man who guided the draft horse smiled wide when he saw the smithy.

"Father!"

Teripides opened his arms wide and accepted an embrace. "Seron, it is good to see you back in one piece. Did you have any trouble on the road?"

Seron shook his head and smiled for the warrior next to his father. "No, father. But you would not believe the news I heard."

"Come, we can unload the wagon as you tell me."

Unable to just stand and watch, Xena pitched in and helped with the chore.

"So, Seron, tell me this news that has you giddier than a girl with her first love."

The young man blushed at the comparison, but grinned nonetheless. "You won't believe it, father," he began. "Xena's army was defeated at Corinth. It was a slaughter. They say that she led them to battle when they were too sick to fight. Some say that she did it on purpose."

"Is that so," Teripides said as he turned to stare at the warrior who was balancing a large sack of flour on her shoulder. "What of the Destroyer herself?"

Seron shrugged. "Some think that she died in the battle. Others say that she ran off to gather another army."

The smithy met the warrior's eyes. Their blue depths were shadowed with pain and fear. Her body was tense as she shifted her burden. "Chances are, my son, that the warlord is dead." He nodded in understanding to the warrior who seemed ready to bolt. "We have nothing to fear from the Destroyer anymore."

Xena was packing her things when Teripides led Argo out of the barn. She straightened and watched the large man carefully. "You know, don't you?"

Teripides handed her the warhorse's reins and nodded. "You are a unique individual, Xena. There aren't too many warrior women in these parts. Seron can talk about nothing else. It seems that he has been taken by the stories of your unmatched beauty and skill."

"Then why take me in? For all you knew, I could have slit your throat as you slept."

"You wouldn't have," the smithy said confidently with a sure shake of his head. "You had the same look in your eyes as I did when I found Seron. I knew that you weren't the same person who destroyed the Arcadian Cavalry. There was no fire of conquest, only one of regret and sorrow."

Xena hung her head to hide her eyes. She could think of nothing to say that would explain the pain of her remorse. There were no magic words that would make all the horrors of her past go away. "Thank you for...everything," she whispered.

"Here, you could use this for the road."

Unable to resist the bundle that was thrust into her arms, Xena nodded her head in gratitude.

"Remember, Xena, it won't be easy. If you have committed yourself to a different path, then you must not waver. Be strong and you will find new life."

Xena looked over her shoulder to see Seron caring for the draft horse. He was whistling a cheery tune as he worked. When she looked once more at the smithy, she could see the scars of battle that covered his massive arms. In the light of day, they were a vivid testament to the violent life he once led. When she looked into his eyes, though, she could only see warmth and compassion in their depths. "I can only hope to be half as lucky as you."

Teripides watched the warrior tie the bundle to her saddle and mount her warhorse. He laid a gentle hand on her knee. "Be well, Xena, and safe journeys."

With a curt nod, the warrior turned Argo towards the road. She looked back one last time to see Teripides watching her go. She returned Seron's wave of farewell. Turning her attention to the road, she braced herself for what was to come.

"Dammit!" Cyrene threw her mixing bowl across the kitchen. Its doughy contents fell to the floor with a soft 'splat'.

"Mom?"

The innkeeper raised her reddened eyes to find Gabrielle leaning almost fearfully against the door. Her anger dissipated under the bard's watchful green eyes.

When the older woman seemed more in control of her emotions, the bard stepped from the door and crossed to the worktable. She raised her hand hesitantly to Cyrene's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She was unprepared when the other woman collapsed into her arms.

They fell to the floor; Gabrielle cradled her mother's trembling body in her arms. She stayed silent as Cyrene sobbed uncontrollably. She had always thought the innkeeper to be strong. She had survived the abandonment of her husband; she had managed to run an inn and raise three children. Gabrielle had never seen her break down. She had been the pillar that everyone else leaned on...until now.

When Cyrene's tears were flowing quietly, Gabrielle whispered words of love and support into her hair. She kissed her mother's brow and raised her head. "How are you feeling?"

The older woman's words were thick and heavy in her throat. "Better. Thank you, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle pulled Cyrene to her feet and led her to a chair. She left to return moments later with a cold, wet cloth and a mug of water. "Here, drink this," she ordered gently as she cleaned Cyrene's face. When all of the tears had been wiped away, she folded the cloth and placed it over the other woman's eyes.

"I think it just hit me," the innkeeper said as she leaned her head back. "I was mixing bread and remembering how Lyceus would come into the kitchen and sit and wait until it was finished. He loved fresh bread from the oven. He would sit in the corner and just hum as he ate a whole loaf."

"I remember," the bard said with a soft chuckle as she took a seat. "I shared a loaf or two with him."

"As I was mixing the dough, I realized that he would never, ever walk into my kitchen again. He's gone from me. My little boy is gone." The innkeeper's hand tightened around her mug.

Gabrielle tried to think of the words that would comfort Cyrene as she dealt with the pain of losing her child. "He died for a cause," she began hesitantly, not sure how her mother felt about Xena's role in his death. "When Ly was little, he believed that he was the peacemaker. Toris and Xena would have these arguments over the dumbest things. He hated when they fought. He would step between them and get them to listen to him. He loved them both so

much that he didn't want to see them hurt."

With a ragged sigh, the bard cupped Cyrene's free hand between her own. "It hurt Lyceus when he heard about...what Xena was doing. He thought that it was his fault for not making her stay."

Cyrene shook her head and removed the cloth from her eyes. "He couldn't have stopped her," she retorted with a hint of anger. "She is her father's child. It's my fault he's dead. I should have refused to let her train with that damn sword."

Gabrielle shook her head emphatically in denial. "No, it was nobody's fault. It wasn't Ly's fault for not making her stay; it wasn't your fault for letting her do what she wanted so badly. It wasn't even my fault for not following her."

The innkeeper's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yeah," the bard said with a nod of her head. "After she left, part of me thought about following her. I wanted to share her adventure. But then Perdicus...and then, nothing was the same." Gabrielle closed her eyes and the painful memories played through her mind. "Lyceus died because he didn't want Xena to die. He...."

"You don't know that," Cyrene interrupted bitterly.

"No, not for sure, but I believe it. Even Meleager said that it was a suicide attack. He's seen more war than any of us. He would know. No one person can defeat a hundred garrison soldiers. Xena didn't plan to walk away from that battle. Lyceus knew it. That's why he went out on that field to see her. His love for her was so great that he was willing to sacrifice himself. And he succeeded. Xena did not die on that battlefield. Whatever he said to her made her turn away."

"A martyr? My son died a martyr?" Cyrene lowered her head as fresh tears fell silently.

"And a hero," Gabrielle added softly. "He saved Xena's life."

"Was it worth it, Gabrielle? Do think she was worthy of saving?"

"Yes, I do. Even after everything we've heard about her, I believe Xena's life was worth the cost. I would have done the same," she said with conviction.

"You and Lyceus were always so much alike," Cyrene remembered fondly. "You were always able to see the good in people."

Gabrielle blushed slightly and shook her head. "Mom, promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Promise me that you won't blame anyone for Ly's death. Don't blame yourself or...."

"Xena?"

"Yes." The bard's eyes held her mother's for a breathless moment. All of her desire to hear the words she asked for shone bright in her eyes.

"I can't promise that, Gabrielle," Cyrene finally answered with a shake of her head. "Not now. It hurts too much."

Gabrielle tried to hide her disappointment but failed. "I understand," she said softly. "It'll take time."

Both women looked up when Toris entered the kitchen.

"Mother, we have to get ready. The procession will be leaving in an hour."

Cyrene nodded her head and sniffled. "I want to see my baby one last time."

"All right," Gabrielle said as she grasped the older woman by the elbow. "I'm here for you, you know that right?" When the innkeeper nodded, the bard cast a look to Toris and smiled softly. "So is Toris, Meleager, and everyone else. So if you need someone to lean on, just find one of us."

The three of them made their way to Lyceus' old room. Gabrielle and Toris stayed back as Cyrene knelt at the side of her son's bed. She pulled the shroud off his body and gasped sharply.

Pirani had taken great care of the body as they had transported it to Amphipolis. If it were not for the unnatural paleness of his skin, one would think that Lyceus was only sleeping. His features were relaxed in death. The bright green tunic he wore disguised the mortal wound in his chest.

Cyrene ran a hand through his hair and ordered it neatly. With a final farewell, she kissed her son's brow. Quietly, she stood.

Toris and Gabrielle stood apart so that she could leave the room. With an unspoken agreement, Gabrielle followed the innkeeper to help her dress. Toris took the responsibility of wrapping his little brother in his death shroud.

The shroud was gaily decorated with scenes from Lyceus' life; the time from his birth to his wedding was depicted. It was a last testament to the vibrant life he had led. When the body was prepared for its sarcophagus, he carried the body outside to the wagon that waited.

The crowd outside stood quietly as they waited for the rest of the family to arrive. Estepani was silently waiting on the bench of the wagon; Hippocrates had sedated her with mild herbs. Pirani waited patiently as he reassured the horses that were uncomfortable with the pall that had settled over the crowd.

When Cyrene stepped from the inn, all eyes turned to her. She was dressed in a black tunic of mourning. Gabrielle held her elbow firmly and guided her to the wagon. With a boost from Toris, the grieving mother took her seat next to the widow. When she was settled, the procession began.

Callisto, who followed with her own family, began a soft chant of farewell for the dead. Her haunting tune carried effortlessly over the silent crowd. Gabrielle picked up on the second verse; her voice added to the chant's volume. By the third verse, the voices of twenty people were raised to usher the spirit of the dead to the underworld.

The chant came to a gradual halt when the final resting-place was spotted among the trees. Cyrene's family had been one of the first to settle in the valley of Amphipolis. As such, they had one of the oldest crypts. The structure was of fitted stone; its columns were simple in design.

Toris gathered his brother's body and led the way inside the cool interior. A broad flight of stairs took them down into a small cavern. Torches had been lit beforehand; a somber glow bathed the rows of sarcophagi. One laid open like the gaping maw of eternity.

Lyceus' body was carefully lowered into the waiting vessel. The crowd parted for the two men that carried its lid. Gabrielle uttered a few words of farewell before the lid was sealed in place with hot wax.

When the funeral ceremony was over, the crowd dispersed into the sunlight and their own lives. Gabrielle stayed behind with Cyrene and Toris. Tears fell from her eyes when her mother traced the likeness of Lyceus that had been carved on the lid. The mason had done a remarkable job given the time he had. When the innkeeper was ready to leave the crypt, Gabrielle followed.

The warm air was like a physical blow after the coolness of the tomb. The bard started when a hand grasped her own. Looking down, she saw green eyes that mirrored her own and she smiled. She bent and kissed her daughter's golden brow. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scents of youth and innocence.

Looking back at the crypt as Toris and Meleager closed its door; the bard realized that life was fleeting and unforgiving. Moments of true happiness were rare and meant to be celebrated. Each day was a challenge to be tackled with all of one's energy. She did not want to find the end of her own life without living it to its fullest, even if that meant that she had to do so from a sleepy little village.

After leaving Teripides, Xena's journey was relatively uneventful. She encountered few people; those she did meet were too concerned with their own lives to pay much attention to her.

She made her way north through Arcadia until the Corinthian Gulf hindered her travel on land. She secured passage on a merchant vessel and landed a day later in the port city of Ephesius in Aetolia. Determined to distance herself from Corinth and Arcadia, she rode non-stop until she saw the forests of Thessaly.

Among the ancient sentinels of the forest, she was haunted by bloody images of the battle that had destroyed the Thessalian/Mitoan military. Her nightmares grew worse; she battled soldiers she had killed years ago. She often woke shivering as the evening air chilled her sweat-drenched body; the curdling screams of the dying lingered in her mind as the sun rose.

During the days, the echoes of Teripides' advice kept her going. Her own strength kept her focused on the road ahead.

Xena studied the weapon in her hand.

Teripides had hidden the chakram in the bundle of food he gave her for her journey. She had discovered it that night as she made camp. She was about to turn back so that she could return the weapon to the smithy, but she stopped short. His words about life being circular echoed through her mind. She realized that he wanted her to keep the chakram. It would be a reminder that Teripides had found new life. If he could, she figured, it was possible that she could, also.

A month after leaving the smithy, she was still learning how to master the weapon and her new life.

Adjusting the angle of her wrist, she let the chakram fly towards the apple she had set upon a rock. She missed the target and hit the rock instead. Ducking instinctively, she caught the weapon as it rebounded back to her. She sighed in frustration and was about to return the weapon to her right hip when she heard screams echoing through the forest.

Switching the chakram to her left hand, she unsheathed her sword with her right. She cocked her head to pinpoint the directions of the screams and sprinted silently into the woods.

She found a dozen young girls kneeling on the ground. They were covered in dirt and blood. Six men in shoddy armor surrounded them; crude jokes about the meager attributes of the girls were traded. With a brutish guffaw, the biggest man separated a girl from the group.

Realizing his intent, Xena moved into the clearing. Her eyes burned bright with anger.

The men were focused on the girls they were tormenting, so they did not see the warrior until she tapped one on the shoulder. When he turned around, she punched him in the face. She spared a slight smirk as he fell to the ground. The sound of bones crunching alerted the others.

Sensing a challenge from the woman warrior, the men abandoned their prey. Their intent was obvious in the leers that showed yellowed and broken teeth.

Xena backed away from the group of girls so that she could fight without them getting in the way. She raised her sword to the ready; her left hand grasped her chakram firmly.

The five that were still standing rushed towards her as one.

With a battle cry, she leapt and somersaulted over their heads. She chuckled when the men turned and stared at her wide-eyed with astonishment. Her sword whistled through the air as she twirled it in complicated patterns around her body. With a feral grin, she invited them to attack again. Her eyes flashed with excitement when they obliged.

The skirmish was over quickly. The men were no match for a warrior of Xena's skill and experience. With a few well-placed sword-thrusts and kicks, they all ended up writhing in dirt.

Xena sheathed her sword and hooked her chakram to her waist. She had to force her breath to slow. She turned and found the little girls watching her with eyes full of wonder. Xena's eyes widened imperceptibly in alarm. The little girls were dressed in Amazon leathers.

Cocking her head, the warrior concentrated her senses. She could hear them in the trees above. Holding her hands away from her weapons, Xena began to step backwards out of the clearing.

"Wait!"

The cautious warrior could only stand and watch as one little girl broke from the huddled group. Her eyes scanned the trees when the girl caught her around the hips in a secure hug. A deep chuckle caused Xena to turn; the little girl refused to abandon the embrace and moved with her.

An Amazon warrior jumped from her perch. Landing gracefully, she stood and shook her head bemusedly. "I heard you were killed at Corinth. Guess I should have known better. You always made it out in the end."

"Maybe I was, maybe I did," the warrior answered enigmatically. Her blue eyes narrowed as she recognized the Amazon. "Ephiny."

"It's been a long time, Xena." The Amazon smiled down at the little girl. "Looks like you made a friend."

Xena's mouth twisted into a half-grimace. "She's a strong little kid," she said with a grunt as she attempted to pry the little girl off her body.

"Come on, Kisha, let Xena go now," the Amazon ordered gently.

The little girl looked up into Xena's closed face. She smiled brightly and obeyed the older Amazon. "Yes, Princess."

Ephiny ruffled the little girl's head and pulled her close. "We appreciate your help, Xena."

"From the sounds of things, you had a handle on it," the warrior returned as she scanned the trees once more.

"Actually, we just got here when you stepped into the clearing. Nice fight, by the way."

Xena showed no response to the Amazon's comment. She was still watching the trees; her hand lowered to her chakram.

"You can all come out, now," Ephiny called. "She's a friend of mine." The Amazon Princess winked at the warrior. "Relax, we don't bite," she whispered.

All of Xena's battle instincts heightened when twenty Amazon warriors dropped from the trees. Her eyes counted crossbows, longbows, short swords, and staffs. Some of the women wore stylized armor; others wore simple leather halters. Their skirts were cut from various types of leather; most were adorned with designs.

Ephiny saw the mistrust in Xena's eyes. She sighed in amused disbelief. "What? You can't take the word of a friend?"

"It's been a while since we were kids, Eph. We've both changed."

The Amazon Princess chewed her lip and nodded her head. "Oh, yeah, that warlord phase you went through." She smirked when Xena glared at her. "Well, guess what, Xena...we know what happened. We also know what you've been doing since Corinth. Or should I say...what you've not been doing?"

The warrior gave Ephiny an unreadable look. Xena was not comfortable knowing that the Amazons had been keeping track of her. "I have to leave," she said tonelessly. She stopped but refused to turn around when Ephiny grabbed her elbow.

"Come back to the village with me, Xena. Melosa will be glad to see you. Besides, it's getting dark. You can stay the night with us."

"I can't," the warrior replied firmly.

"Yes, you can. We've already gathered your things from your camp. Trust me, please," the Amazon Princess entreated.

Xena clenched her fists at her side. She stood to loom over Ephiny. "You touched my stuff," she asked with a low growl.

Ephiny put up a hand to stop the Amazons from becoming alarmed. Concentrating her attention on Xena, she stood regally and fearlessly.

The two women stared hard at each other; neither would capitulate.

A tug on Xena's arm caused her to turn her cold eyes sharply. She looked down to see Kisha pleading with a wide, doe-eyed entreaty. When the little girl did not cower under her icy gaze, the warrior sighed. "Hades," she mumbled.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then," Ephiny said as she took Kisha's hand in her own.

Xena followed the warriors along the trails that led to the village. She was not in the mood for a social visit.

Xena fidgeted in her seat. She tried to ignore the looks that caused her skin to crawl.

The Amazons had gathered for an impromptu feast; they were celebrating the return of their little ones. Since Xena had been the one to defeat the men that had abducted the girls, she was the honored guest and center of attention.

She took another sip of the sweet wine that had been served. Over the rim of her tankard, she could see the open adoration, frank curiosity, and carnal invitations that were directed her way. She shifted once more in her seat.

"Uncomfortable," Ephiny asked as she leaned close. When Xena merely glanced at her in irritation, the Amazon Princess chuckled. "They practically worship you," she revealed needlessly. "You are something of a legend among the Amazons. To many, you are the perfect warrior. Every little girl here wants to be like you."

"I'm a bad example to follow," Xena replied with a low growl.

Ephiny continued her praise as if the warrior had never spoken. "You've led an army of men to one victory after another. You saved a city from being conquered. You saved them," she finished with a nod towards the girls.

Xena fixed a cold glare on the Amazon. "I've done nothing to be proud of in my life."

"You might think so." Ephiny paused to take a drink of her wine. "Here, though, strong women are celebrated. We honor them."

"I told you, Eph, I'm no role model." Xena pushed her plate away; her stomach churned as she was assailed by visions of people dying at the end of her sword.

The princess' voice dropped low. "I suppose it was a coward that defied the God of War at Corinth to begin a new life."

"And I've been doing nothing but wandering," the warrior muttered. "Did you know that Ly is dead?" Xena snorted softly when she saw the sadness that softened her friend's eyes. "I wanted to die at Corinth. I made a damn promise to him that I would survive the battle and return home." She threw her head back and finished her tankard of wine in one long gulp. "I was a coward for going to Ares in the first place, for wanting to die on that field, for being too afraid to go home," she admitted harshly.

"You'll keep your promise, though, won't you? You always did with him." Xena's scowl was all the answer Ephiny needed. "Why are you here, Xena? This isn't Amphipolis."

"You made me come here, remember," the warrior reminded dryly. Xena scowled when Ephiny's laughter drew all eyes towards them. She bristled under the renewed attention.

"Come on, Xena, seriously. The hard part is over...you've changed your life. What can be so terrible?"

Xena ducked her head.

Ephiny had to lean close to hear her whispered words.

"I can't face my mother...after all that I did. I'm...ashamed."

The Amazon's sharp ears caught the hitch in the stoic warrior's voice. She fought to hide her surprise. Xena was never one to admit a weakness. "I think we need more wine," she said. When a server honored her request, Ephiny sipped from her tankard; she was deep in thought.

When the meal was over, Ephiny led the warrior to a guest hut where she was to spend the night. Before Xena could enter, though, the Amazon stopped her with a firm hand. "Xena, you have to let it go...let it all go. You can't change what you did. You can only be true to yourself. The Xena I grew up with was brave and fierce. She faced her fears head on." She paused to let her words sink in. "You were right, you know," she said after a breath. "You are a coward...but

not for the reasons you think. You are a coward because you laid down and quit. The Xena I knew didn't quit for anything. She knew what she wanted...and she worked hard to get it."

Xena stared after the Amazon who left abruptly after the outburst. "But I had Gabrielle then," she whispered into the evening's breeze. "She's the reason I never quit...she wouldn't let me."

The warrior ran a weary hand through her hair. Everybody had always thought that she was the strong one. The truth of the matter was that Gabrielle had shown her what true strength was. Xena inhaled deeply and conjured up a vision of the bard. No matter how much time passed, she remembered Gabrielle as the young girl who encouraged her to reach for the stars.

"What are you doing?"

Gabrielle opened her eyes and turned her head to look at her friend. "I'm catching them," she answered.

Xena quirked a brow and looked into the night sky to find what Gabrielle was seeing. "Catching what?"

"The stars."

"You can't catch the stars, Gabrielle. They're too far away."

"No, you're wrong, Xena. Nothing is ever too far away. Here, watch."

Xena rose on an elbow to watch her friend.

Gabrielle relaxed into the soft grass and raised her arms high. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A long moment passed before she opened her eyes again. When she turned to look at Xena, her smile was wide. "See, they're not so far away."

"But you didn't catch them," Xena said as she studied the younger girl's hand.

"Yes, I did," Gabrielle argued. "I closed my eyes and imagined reaching up and touching them. Then I opened my eyes and they were closer. I can feel it here," she explained as she placed her free hand over her heart. "I look up into the sky and I feel like I'm right up there with the stars. It feels so incredible...like they've become a part of me." The bard closed her eyes once more. "When I feel like that, I believe I can do anything."

Xena raised her eyes to study the stars. She wondered if Gabrielle was doing the same. She closed her eyes and raised her hands. She strained her entire length to reach as high as possible. When she opened her eyes, the stars were bigger; they sparkled brighter. "I can catch them now, too, Gabrielle," she whispered before she entered her hut. She carried the bard's lesson in her heart. It would be the talisman that would guide her way.

Xena was checking her saddlebags when a tug on her skirt gained her attention. She looked down at the little girl who had interrupted her routine.

"This is for you," Kisha said with a timid smile before she ran off to join a group of giggling friends.

The warrior unrolled the parchment that had been thrust into her hands. It was a drawing of a black-leathered warrior on a pale horse. The warrior was rescuing a small girl from a fierce-looking dragon.

Xena's eyes rose to find the small group of girls. She smiled gently at the one who had given her the picture. She rolled the parchment and tucked it into a saddlebag. She turned to face the Amazons who were approaching.

"Well, take care of yourself, Xena," Ephiny said as she offered her hand.

Xena clasped her forearm warmly in farewell. "I will," Xena promised. "And Eph?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for...uh...setting a few things straight for me."

"No problem, Xena." The Amazon held Argo's bridle as Xena mounted. "You know you'll always have a place to stay here if you need it."

Xena nodded in understanding. She bowed her head briefly in recognition of Melosa's position and nudged her warhorse. She rode proudly through the lines of Amazon warriors that had gathered to see her go. With Gabrielle to guide her, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she found her way home.

Gabrielle cast a worried look towards the family table. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her rag into a bucket and approached Estepani.

She and Cyrene had convinced the young widow to stay in Amphipolis with the promise that they would help her through her grief and pregnancy. Pirani had encouraged his daughter to accept the offer, for he believed that she needed to be surrounded by people who cared and understood her situation.

Gabrielle stood over Estepani; the bard rested a gentle hand on the other woman's shoulder.

Estepani was picking at the food on her plate.

The bard watched a moment while the other woman pushed the food around. The young widow had lost enough weight since Lyceus' funeral to worry Gabrielle. The child she was carrying would only suffer if things got any worse. "'Stepi?"

Estepani looked up; heavy circles shadowed her eyes. She lowered her head and continued to play with her food.

"'Stepi, this can't go on. You're only hurting yourself and your baby," the bard said softly. Gabrielle sat down next to her sister-in-law. She raised a hand to push a strand of hair behind the sullen woman's ear. "You have to think of the baby. You have to eat and get some sleep. Otherwise.... You don't want to lose that little part of Lyceus you still have, do you?"

The widow refused to raise her head. She did, however, shake it with the barest of movements.

Gabrielle sighed in relief. "I didn't think so. No one else does, either. We all care about you, 'Stepi. We're here to help you with this." The bard sat next to the other woman; she pulled Estepani's plate closer to herself. "Here," she said as she raised a piece of meat, "this is good. Cyrene makes the best mutton there is."

Estepani accepted it hesitantly between her teeth. She chewed slowly and swallowed as the bard offered encouragement. She accepted the glass of cider that was pressed into her hand. After a small sip, she took another piece of meat. Her appetite, which she had been largely ignoring for the past month, rumbled in gratitude. She blushed when Gabrielle chuckled.

"Hey, don't worry about it, 'Stepi. It happens to me all the time. In fact, I'm gonna go get a plate of my own. I'll be right back."

The widow's eyes widened when Gabrielle returned shortly. The small bard was balancing a large platter in her arms.

"This oughta get us through the day," Gabrielle said with an eager look. She removed a plate and began to heap it with mutton and vegetables. A second plate was filled with fruit and bread. "Well, come on...I don't want to be the only one eating here," the bard chided. Gabrielle nodded her head in satisfaction as Estepani began to slowly eat.

"What did you say to her?"

Gabrielle continued to wash dishes as her eyes found her mother leaning against the worktable. She shrugged and raised a hand to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Nothing, really. I told her she had to eat for the baby."

Cyrene's eyes were melancholy. She smiled sadly. "I don't want to lose my grandchild, too. Thank you." The older woman pulled a towel from a hook by the sink and began drying the dishes. "I tried to talk to her...I didn't know what to say. I guess I was so lost in my own grief that I forgot about her."

"She's still in a lot of pain," the bard said as she handed a bowl to her mother.

The innkeeper nodded and studied the younger woman. "How are you, sunshine? How are you holding up?"

Smiling crookedly at the endearment, Gabrielle waggled a soapy hand. "All right. How about you?"

"Better than I thought I would be." Cyrene cast her eyes to the floor. "Meleager has helped a lot."

Gabrielle grinned wide and nodded her head. "Uh, huh."

The older woman raised her head at her daughter's playful tone. "What?"

The bard's eyes widened with innocence. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just glad that you found someone to...comfort you."

"Comfort me?" Cyrene's face reddened and she shook her head in denial. "I...it's not like that, Gabrielle."

"All right," the bard answered defensively. She fought to hide her smug grin. "Whatever you say."

"We're just friends."

"Friends."

"Yes."

Gabrielle jumped when Cyrene snapped her in the behind with the damp towel. "Hey!"

The innkeeper snorted as she took up another dish to dry. "You young people...always seeing things that aren't there."

Gabrielle looked up occasionally as she took dinner orders. Her eyes followed Cyrene as the other woman worked her half of the room. The bard chuckled when Meleager stopped the innkeeper as she passed his table. Gabrielle looked away hastily when Cyrene turned and caught her eye.

Pretending as if she had seen nothing out of the ordinary, the bard returned to the kitchen where Hope was preparing the orders. "Two more stews."

"Okay, Mama," the girl said as she ladled stew from a large pot into two bowls.

While Hope was filling the bowls, Gabrielle prepared plates of fresh bread and cheese.

"Do not say a word, young lady," Cyrene warned the bard as she rushed into the kitchen. "Three stews, sweetheart," she said to Hope.

Gabrielle grabbed a bite of cheese and shrugged. She flashed a mischievous grin to the innkeeper as she backed through the door with the dinner order.

After delivering the orders, Gabrielle looked up to see six more people entering the tavern. She sighed before she went to greet them.

"Starting to get busy, huh?"

The bard looked over at the family table. Estepani was brushing the last of her dinner from her hands. "Stew night always is," she returned.

"Can I help?"

"Uh, sure. Go on back to the kitchen. Hope'll tell you what you need do."

Gabrielle returned her attention to the new arrivals and took their orders. As she was threading her way to the kitchen, she was stopped by a nod from Cyrene. "Yeah?"

"Where's 'Stepi going?"

"She volunteered to help," the bard answered.

Cyrene sighed in relief. "Wonderful. We need all the help we can get."

Gabrielle nodded as she continued to the kitchen.

Estepani wiped a hand across her brow as she sat wearily at the family table. "How do you do that day in and day out," she asked as she accepted a mug of cold water from Gabrielle.

Cyrene chuckled as she twirled a cleaning rag in her hand. "When you've been doing it as long as I have, you tend not to think about it. It only happens the same the next day."

"But when do you get to relax?"

"This is it," the bard answered. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Cyrene slapped the bard's hand. "Don't listen to her. This is our busiest time of the year. In another couple of weeks, we'll have more free time than we know what to do with."

"I can't wait," Hope said as her eyes took on a dreamy glaze.

"Oh, and what do you have planned, little one?"

"Mama's gonna teach me how to fish, Gramma. Will you come, Aunt 'Stepi? Can she, Mama?"

Estepani's shock was evident in her wide eyes; she looked to Gabrielle.

"Sure, sweetie, if 'Stepi wants to come along, she can."

"Please, Aunt 'Stepi? Say you will."

The woman, who once felt like a stranger among her husband's family, smiled warmly. Since Lyceus had died, they had shown her more love and compassion than she had thought possible. "I'd love to, Hope."

"Great," the bard said as she stood. "We've got a plan. Until then, though, we still have to deal with the rush until harvest."

"And then we'll have the Harvest Festival," Hope cheered as she took her mother's hand.

Everybody heaved a sigh of relief as they thought about the event that always signaled slower days at the tavern. They all looked forward to this time of year. It gave them time to pursue their own interests.

After a moment's quiet, Cyrene stood. "Well, I'm off to bed. This old body needs to rest up for the morning." She kissed her daughters and granddaughter goodnight.

Estepani joined Gabrielle and Hope; the three of them followed the innkeeper.

Gabrielle crawled into bed next to Hope and tucked the blankets snug around the both of them. She waited a moment, knowing that her daughter liked to talk before they fell asleep.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Who taught you how to fish?"

"Xena."

"She taught you a lot of things, huh?"

The bard shrugged in the darkness. "I suppose so."

"Did you teach her anything?"

Gabrielle chuckled and shook her head. "I don't think so. She's older than I am. She usually knew everything before I did."

"She teach you how to tell stories?"

"No, I figured how to do that on my own."

"Will I ever get to meet her?"

The bard's eyes stared at the dark ceiling. She wondered if she would ever see the warrior again. There had been no news from Salmoneus or any of the travelers. The last time anyone had seen her was at the battle at Corinth. It was like she had just disappeared. "I don't know," Gabrielle finally answered in a forlorn whisper.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

Gabrielle sighed quietly, for a story request meant that Hope was ready to fall asleep. "Sure, honey. Which one?"

"Tell me about how Xena got her horse."

"Ah, that's a funny one," the bard replied as she settled her weary body for the tale. "It all began one lazy day. I was bored and went looking for Xena. She was no where to be found, though. Eventually, I found her in the woods. She was covered in mud."

"Like I always am," the little girl asked as she interrupted.

"Yeah, like you. Now hush while I tell you about Argo."

Half an hour later, Gabrielle bent over and kissed Hope on the brow. The little girl had finally drifted off to sleep. With a contented smile, the bard welcomed Morpheus.

Xena dismounted when she came upon the well. It was a solitary structure at the side of the dusty road. It had been maintained, though, and its water was sweet upon inspection. The warrior untied her waterskin from the saddle and began to fill it. As she was waiting, she spied a rickety wagon making its way towards her. Narrowing her eyes, she saw two old women guiding a broken-down nag; the sun shone dully off their white hair and light clothing. Seeing nothing to fear, she relaxed and continued her task.

As she was capping the skin, the wagon stopped on the road.

One of the women lowered herself carefully from the seat. "You there, child, would you do an old woman a favor and draw some water?"

Xena nodded at the request. She set aside her waterskin and lowered the bucket into the well. After a few moments, she pulled it back up. By the time that she did so, the old woman reached her side.

"Such a sweet girl," the woman said as she sampled the water. "I told you it would still be good," the woman yelled over her shoulder to her companion.

Xena shook her head to clear the ringing the shout had caused; she glanced towards the wagon to see the other woman attempting to dismount. "Does your friend need help," she asked with concern.

The old woman snorted. "Beta is a stubborn old woman. Wouldn't take help if you offered, so don't waste your time."

The warrior smothered her grin as the smaller of the two women approached. "You just love to be right, don't you, Thesia?"

Thesia offered her companion a smug look before the smaller woman snatched the ladle from her hands. "Now, Beta, this child will think you're rude," she chastised. "Where are those manners I worked so hard to teach you?"

"Maybe I've just gone senile on you," Beta offered curtly as she took a second drink.

The taller woman sighed and shook her head. "Don't mind her. She's just full of worry. Her son's been injured and we're on our way to see him."

"Boy couldn't move any further from Thebes, could he," Beta complained.

A worried frown crossed Xena's features. "You've been traveling from Thebes? Don't you know that the road is dangerous? You could get hurt out here."

Thesia waved away the warrior's concerns. "Who would want to bother two old women? We have nothing to offer. Our beauty has faded and we carry no coin. Even our horse and wagon are beyond repair."

"There are people out there who need no reason," Xena replied with a low growl.

Beta craned her neck and cackled, "The she-warrior has fangs." The shorter woman was brought up short; she complained when her companion pulled her aside.

Xena watched as the two argued back and forth.

Thesia reprimanded the smaller woman for being uncouth and Beta complained that her companion was uptight.

When the two seemed to come to a standstill, the warrior shifted her stance. "If you want, I can travel with you."

The shorter woman fixed a wary glare on the warrior. "Why would you be wanting to do that?"

The warrior shrugged and retrieved her forgotten skin. "Two ladies shouldn't travel unattended? Or maybe I just want to make sure that you get to see your son in one piece."

"We would like that," Thesia said before Beta could voice any opposition.

As evening began to fall, Xena nudged Argo close to the wagon. "We should find a place to camp."

Thesia nodded in agreement. "There's a clearing about five minutes through those woods there," she said, pointing a gnarled finger.

"We'll have to leave the wagon on the side of the road."

"No one'll bother it, child."

Xena dismounted and moved to help the two old women from the wagon. Beta, as predicted, waved away the assistance and stretched her short legs to reach the ground. Thesia, however, smiled gratefully for the strong hand that aided her.

The women gathered their packs from the wagon. Xena led the nag off the road and unhitched the old mare. Gathering the reins of both horses in her one hand, she led them into the woods. Following Thesia's directions, she found the clearing.

She brushed both mares and saw to their feeding as Thesia and Beta prepared camp. The two women worked together as if they were used to the routine. By the time that Xena was finished, a fire had just been lit.

"If you'd like, I could get us some fresh rabbit for dinner," the warrior offered.

Beta grumbled as she dug into her pack. "Rabbit gives me gas."

Thesia ignored her friend and declined for the both of them. "We've brought provisions with us. You're welcomed to share."

"No, I'm fine," Xena replied as she found a wrapped bundle of salted pork.

The three of them ate in silence until Beta cleared her throat. "Bet you want to hear how I got my name," she asked Xena.

The warrior shrugged and looked to Thesia; the old woman returned the gesture.

"My father wanted me to be a boy," Beta began. "He'd already sired twelve girls and desperately wanted a son. When my mother asked what I would be named if I was a girl, he responded that plan beta could be discussed upon my birth." Beta cackled with mirth. "And wouldn't you know it. There I came along, like a practical joke of the Fates. My mother felt sorry for my father, for he had set his heart upon a boy. When she asked him again what I would be named, he told

her that she could handle plan beta. Now, my mother was a woman of limited imagination, obviously. She started calling me Beta until she could think of a proper name. However, the name stuck with my older sisters. And so, here I am...Beta."

"You just love telling that story, don't you?"

Beta smiled mischievously at her friend. "Saves me the pain of hearing them ask me about it." Wiping the crumbs of her dinner from her pale lips, Beta stretched her arms high over her head. She grunted when an old pain flared in her shoulder.

"Here, let me help with that," Thesia whispered as she began to rub the other woman's shoulders.

"You still have such strong hands," Beta sighed as she leaned into the pressure.

Xena's brows rose slightly when she saw the obvious affection passing between the two women. "I'm going to scout the perimeter," she said as she stood hastily. "Will you two be all right for half an hour?"

"Perfect," Beta mumbled as her eyes closed and her head fell back.

Stepping into the shadows, the warrior glanced back once to see Thesia kissing Beta's temple. The smaller woman turned her head and returned the love.

When Xena returned to the campsite, both women were already asleep in their bedroll. Taking a seat on her side of the fire, the warrior studied them with open curiosity.

Beta was snuggled against Thesia; the taller woman's arms held her close. Their mouths were curved into peaceful smiles.

Xena closed her eyes. She felt a sadness deep in her soul and smiled wistfully. She believed that she would never find a gentle love like theirs. An image of Gabrielle came to mind and the warrior opened eyes to stare at the dying fire. It was unbidden; she was surprised that she was thinking of the young bard at such a time. She realized, then, that Gabrielle had a heart that would soothe the pain in her heart. She had seen it often, but had been blind to it at the time.

"Hey, Gabrielle."

The bard started and turned with a guilty look on her face. She lowered her head and nibbled on her bottom lip.

"What are you doing out here, and what are you wearing?"

Gabrielle looked down at her practice attire and blushed even hotter. She shifted her staff in her hands.

"Do you know how to use that," Xena asked, pointing to the bard's weapon.

"Yeah...I do," she answered shyly.

"Really? Let's see," the young warrior said as she pulled her sword.

Gabrielle's head snapped up in alarm. She nervously adjusted her grip and shifted her feet. She met the warrior's attack. She held her own until Xena tricked her with a feign; she felt the sting of the flat blade of the sword on her arm. With a hiss of pain, she dropped her staff.

"I'm sorry...oh, gods, Gabrielle, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

The bard shook off her friend's concern and examined the thin cuts. "It's all right, Xena. I'm just not used to sparring with anyone. I usually just practice alone." The younger girl sighed as the warrior grasped her arm gently to see the injury.

"No, it's not all right. I should have known better," Xena mumbled. "I could have really hurt you." She raised her head slightly and found Gabrielle looking at her; the bard's green eyes were soft and her lips were parted. "I don't think that we should do this again."

Gabrielle jumped when the warrior released her arm. "No, Xena, please...please...." She lowered her head and sighed. "Please don't tell anyone. If my parents found out...."

"I won't. I promise." Xena looked around the clearing before she cleared her throat. "Well, I've got to be going. Joxer is supposed to finish my new armor today. I want to make sure that it fits."

"Oh, all right. See you around."

"Yeah, see ya."

Xena fell back onto her bedroll and covered her eyes with an arm. She could still picture Gabrielle that day in the clearing. The bard's body, accentuated by her revealing clothes, was firm and supple. A fine sheen of sweat covered her body and glistened in the afternoon sun. Her snug green top was wet along the low neckline.

Gabrielle's love had been so open; it had been obvious in her innocent eyes.

Xena shook her head in disbelief. She wondered how she could have been blind to it. Her obsession to become a warrior had narrowed her focus to such a small point that she could not see what her friend offered her. Maybe if she had known then, the warrior thought, things might have turned out differently.

Inhaling deeply, Xena tried to recapture the bard's smell. She only recognized the familiar smells of the forest that sheltered them now. With a sigh of frustrated loss, she rolled to her side and caressed the hilt of her sword. It was the only lover she had truly known. It was trustworthy, but cold and cruel if treated irreverently.

She fell asleep listening to the sounds of crickets courting each other. She dreamed of green meadows and the golden sun. For the first time in years, Xena's dreamscape was free of those she had killed. Her weary heart was released from its bondage of pain and bloody memories; she found love in Gabrielle's arms.

The warrior smiled as her sleep deepened.

When the evening was darkest, a figure materialized in the clearing. Dark leather absorbed the low light of the smoldering embers. Ares smiled in victory. He found his path to revenge against the warrior; the solution had been in her dreams. With an evil chuckle, he disappeared.

Xena shivered as a cold breeze caressed her face.

"Mama, this is boring."

Gabrielle smiled softly and ruffled her daughter's hair. "I guess I'm not as good as the company I used to have," the bard replied.

"You mean Xena, right?"

The bard cast a look at Estepani and mentally sighed in relief when she saw that the other woman was sleeping. "Yeah, Xena and I usually fished together."

Seeing her mother's glance, Hope's brows furrowed in thought. "Mama, does Aunt 'Stepi hate Xena?"

Gabrielle shrugged and stared sullenly across the river. "I don't know, honey. A lot of people are angry about what happened to your Uncle Ly."

"But that wasn't Xena's fault. Uncle Mel said that Uncle Lyceus got hurt saving her."

"I know, sweetheart, but some people are mad because Xena was at Corinth in the first place."

"They're mad because of why she was there, too," the little girl added.

The bard studied her daughter for a moment before she ducked her head. "Do you understand why she was there, Hope?"

The little girl shrugged. "Uncle Mel said that something happened and she became bad. That's why she was there. She wanted to do bad things...but she didn't. He said that she did something good."

"Yeah," Gabrielle mumbled, "something like that."

"Maybe if she does more good things, people won't be so mad at her," the little girl said as she laid a comforting hand on her mother's arm.

The bard contemplated her daughter's words. After hearing all the hellish stories of what Xena the warlord had done, she wondered if it was possible for the warrior to become a hero. She realized, though, that if anyone could make the change, Xena could.

Then the bard shook her head sadly. She had not even heard whether the warrior was alive. The lack of news left her edgy and worried.

Estepani moaning pleasantly as she stretched broke the temporary silence.

"Have a good nap," Gabrielle asked with a bright smile.

The young woman rubbed her growing belly and blushed. "The best."

Gabrielle nodded and gave her a hand up. Ever since she had started eating and sleeping properly, Estepani's pregnancy had become obvious; at five months, the child was growing quickly inside of her.

Raising her head to gauge the time of day, the bard sighed. "Well, the fishing lesson is over for today," she said. "Time to get back to help with lunch."

"Already? Can't I stay longer, Mama? I haven't caught any fish."

"No, honey. You are too little to be out here alone." Gabrielle shuddered with the memories of a day by the river that ended violently. "What would I do if something happened to my Hope?"

"Aw, Mama." The little girl tried to pout; she blushed instead under her mother's loving gaze. "All right. Will Aunt 'Stepi help me in the kitchen?"

Estepani smoothed her niece's hair. "Sure will, runt."

"Please, not you, too. I'm not a runt. I'm just small for my age. Okay?"

Gabrielle and Estepani fought to control their laughter in the face of Hope's indignation.

Clearing her throat, Estepani nodded. "What shall I call you then?"

Hope's eyes lit up as her imagination painted vivid images. "How about Princess Hope of the Amazons?"

The bard's grin was hidden as she kneeled to gather the fishing rods. "An Amazon Princess," she asked.

"Ephiny said I was an honorary Amazon because I'm doing so good with my staff. And when I saved that kitten in the tree last year, she said that I was very brave. And when I play with Jett, I'm always the princess. So, I should be called Amazon Princess."

The women listened as the little girl rambled. They nodded with humor in their eyes as they agreed with her simple reasoning.

"To be young and full of dreams again," Estepani whispered into the bard's ear.

Gabrielle smirked in reply. "Who says the dreams have to die when you grow up?"

Hope ran ahead of the women who continued their discussion on the way to the inn.

"Gabrielle, Lyceus...." The young woman faltered when she thought of her husband who had died less than two months before.

The bard laid a supportive hand on Estepani's back. She waited for the other woman to continue.

"He told me about how you and he used to lay around and stare at the sky. He told me about the dreams you used to share. He said that you wanted to see the world, but when...."

"When Perdicus raped me, I thought those dreams died," the bard finished. Gabrielle sighed as she remembered the days when she and Lyceus would find the shapes in the clouds by day and the stars by night. They wanted to be great adventurers when they grew up. Her eyes misted painfully when she realized all that had been lost for him.

Gabrielle rubbed her eyes to ease their pain. "I realized later, though, that my dreams haven't died. They've only been...delayed. I'll still be young enough when Hope is grown. I can still travel and do the things I always wanted."

Estepani lowered her head as she thought about Gabrielle's words. "After Lyceus died," she began softly, "I thought that my life was over. I couldn't see any future past that moment he fell on the battlefield. Seeing you, though, and Hope...the two of you make me smile when I hear you talking about what it was like when we were little."

"All we ever talk about is how I used to get into trouble. Xena saved...." Gabrielle frowned when she realized her error. She glanced at Estepani and saw her rigid posture. "I'm sorry," she whispered sincerely. "I know how you feel about her. I should just stop talking now." The bard shook her head and mumbled under her breath, "Me and my big mouth."

Grabbing Gabrielle by the arm, Estepani pulled her to a stop. "Look, Gabrielle, I know how you felt...and still feel about Xena. I'm sorry I was so angry about what happened. I wanted to blame someone. I couldn't blame Lyceus, so she was the next best person."

"You're not angry with her anymore?"

"Yes, I am," the widow replied calmly. "If she hadn't been so hungry for power and fame, she wouldn't have been in Corinth in the first place. She should have just stayed home like the rest of us and married."

"But that would have killed her, 'Stepi. She wanted so much more than that."

"What we want and what is good for us is not always the same thing. Learning to live with that is what makes us adults, Gabrielle."

"And I suppose the dreams Lyceus and I had were childish...that I should just give up on them?"

Estepani sighed raggedly. "No...I mean...." She looked up to find the bard pink with anger. "I'm sorry, Gabrielle. I don't know what I mean anymore. I still hurt so much. Every day I wake up and I'm alone. I don't mean to be so mean. I guess I still am angry with Xena. When I see how much you love her...I get angry with you. I know I shouldn't. You can't help who you fall in love

with."

Gabrielle stopped Estepani with a raised hand. "Whoa. What did you say?"

"I said...."

"I know what you said. What do you mean by it?"

"About you loving Xena? It's obvious. I know when you're just thinking about her. Your eyes get all soft and you smile like you've seen the most beautiful thing. Lyceus used to look at me like that." Estepani paused to take a deep breath and calm herself. "What I don't understand, though, is how can you love a murderer? Even you can't argue the fact that she has killed innocent people."

The bard was quiet for a moment as she found the truth in her heart. She had often wondered the same. "I guess the warlord that did those things isn't the Xena I know. The Xena I loved...still love...cared about people and helped them out whenever she could."

"I remember when my mother died," Estepani said as she bowed her head. "Xena helped my father bring in his crops. She even watched me when he rode to market to sell the grain." The widow's brows furrowed as she recalled the confusing time long ago. "She tried to tell me stories," she finished with a crooked grin. "She wasn't very good at it."

"Xena told you stories?"

"When I couldn't fall asleep, she did. I think they were all yours, though. She knew them by heart, but she wasn't very good at telling them. Not like you were."

The bard was surprised that the warrior had remembered the stories she told as a child. Her efforts to support her long-lost friend, however, pushed that aside. "So," she said as she urged Estepani towards the village, "we agree, then, that Xena has her good points, too."

"Are you on a campaign to save her soul?" Estepani shook her head in amusement. "I haven't heard anyone defend her so vehemently since Lyceus." Suddenly, the widow's eyes darkened. "I know I can't tell you what to do, Gabrielle, but be careful. Loving Xena carries a harsh price." Estepani caught the bard's free hand and held it gently. "I'm still angry with her."

Gabrielle sighed; she thought that she heard a different, more forgiving tone in Estepani's voice. "I believe in her, 'Stepi. I know that she's changed."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, we haven't heard about her army destroying anything lately," the bard ventured with a meek smile.

"I won't believe anything until I see it for myself."

As they entered the inn and their discussion ended. Estepani was still firm in her belief that Lyceus' death was, in part, Xena's fault. Gabrielle prayed that her faith in the warrior would be proven worthy.

Xena pulled up on Argo's reins when Thesia halted the wagon in front of a small cottage. The dwelling was on the edge of the village; no one had noticed their arrival yet. The warrior dismounted to help Thesia down from the wagon.

"Come, you can have dinner with us after Beta sees her son."

Xena shook her head slowly and began to unload the women's packs from the wagon. "I don't think so, Thesia, but thank you for the offer."

"Why," Beta asked as she lowered herself to the ground. "You afraid that simple villagers might hurt the feared Destroyer?"

Thesia gasped and turned on her partner. "Beta, that was uncalled for. She has done nothing but help us."

"She's afraid," the smaller woman taunted.

Xena, who had begun to mount her warhorse, looped Argo's reins over the saddlehorn and approached the arguing women. "I am not afraid," she growled. "I just don't want to upset anyone. I'd rather just be on my way."

Beta glared at Xena until a young man ran up to them.

All three women watched him as he labored to catch his breath. "Mother Beta, you brought a warrior with you. Has she agreed to help us with Skaridran's army?"

"Skaridran," Beta asked. "What's he doing now?"

"Well, that's how Petrios was hurt. Skaridran's men roughed him up when he tried to keep them from collecting their tribute."

The old woman snorted. "Tartarus, I'm still enough of a warrior to drive off that pissant. What do we need her for?"

Thesia shook her head and leaned towards Xena to whisper, "Amazons...you just can't beat the fight out of them. They don't stop until they're in the grave. And even then," the older woman snorted, "I think they pass over and battle those they fought against on this side...a rematch, if you will."

"Beta's an Amazon?"

"Hmm...true-blooded. She left the Nation to make her life with me. I would have joined her, but I didn't want to leave my family at the time. After a while, we made a home of our own outside of the Nation. She still visits them on occasion, of course. I think they admire her for the fire she still carries." The old woman chuckled as she stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Beta. After a few whispered words, the old Amazon calmed.

Xena pulled the young man aside and bowed her head to look him in the eye. "When are Skaridran's men scheduled to collect next?"

"Tomorrow. They collect every two months."

The warrior looked over her shoulder and frowned when Beta began assembling a bow she had pulled out of her pack. "I'll help, but I'll do it alone. I don't want anyone getting in my way, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young man nodded. "I'll inform the council right away."

When the young man left, Xena went back to the two old women.

Beta had just finished stringing her bow; the Amazon grimaced in pain as she tested the weapon's tautness.

"You can put that away," the warrior said as she pried the bow from the stubborn woman's hands. "I'm going to help...and I work alone," she warned. When Beta seemed ready to fight the decision, Xena held up a hand. "Why don't you go see your son. I'm going to check out the village and scout the area...see if I can figure out how to handle Skaridran's men."

"Dinner will be ready when you come back," Thesia said as she steered her combative partner towards their son's house.

Xena nodded and mounted Argo. "I might be gone a while."

"I'll keep it warm," the old woman promised.

After a brief talk with the elder councilman, Xena scouted the fields and sparse wooded area that surrounded the village. It was a small farming community that had little to offer except grain. That, the ex-warlord knew, was enough to elicit a raiding army's attention. Seeing that there was little to disguise an ambush, the warrior rode aimlessly. She let her thoughts wander.

She had been traveling with Thesia and Beta for about a week when they met a small group of thieves. The twelve men that were standing across the road were well armed. One of the thieves recognized her. A man better dressed than the others stepped forward.

"Well, lookee here, boys. We get to take on Xena herself, the infamous Destroyer. Last time I saw you, we toasted to your victory over the Thessalians." The thief snickered when he saw the old women in the dilapidated wagon. "Have you become a nursemaid since you led your army to slaughter?"

Xena heard the women behind her gasp. She assumed it was because they now knew who she was. If not many people knew her on sight, most had heard of the Destroyer of Nations. The warrior tensed when she realized that her reputation would not be enough to dissuade the criminals. "Why don't you boys pass on by before I decide to hurt you," she suggested; her voice dripped with menace.

"We're not afraid of you. You're a has-been, Xena. I'm gonna prove it when I ride your horse to my next take." The leader turned to his men. "Get her!"

The warrior's mouth tightened into a grim line. She unsheathed her sword and deflected a thrust aimed for her side. Realizing that she had little room in which to fight, she climbed to her saddle. With a blood-chilling battlecry, she somersaulted over the thieves' heads.

She laughed, taunting them as she wove intricate patterns with her sword. From out of the corner of her eye, she could see Thesia holding Beta; the smaller woman's arms were lashing out in mimicry of a fight.

The men she faced offered no real challenge. She had already downed six of them when she looked up to see two others approaching the wagon. Without thinking, the warrior reached for her chakram and threw it. The disc rebounded off a raised sword and knocked both men unconscious. The warrior was stunned momentarily; she stared at the weapon when it returned to her hand. "I guess sometimes, you just gotta do it without thinking," she mumbled.

Beta's shout of warning broke the spell in which she had been lost. With movements too fast to follow, Xena finished off the last four.

"Come on," she urged as she tossed the bodies hastily to the side of the road. "We have to go before they wake up."

Thesia nodded numbly as she picked up the wagon's reins and urged her nag forward. Beta's victorious cackle rang through the air that was strangely quiet. The old woman spat upon one thief's body.

Xena glanced around for a moment before she mounted Argo. Seeing nobody left on the road, she caught up to the wagon easily and rode the point forward. Her blood was still raging fiercely from the battle but was tempered by the knowledge that she had kept her traveling companions safe.

She waited for the disparaging remarks that would deflate her victory. She figured that the old women would despise her since they had discovered her identity. All she heard was Beta whispering to her companion.

"Now that was a good fight."

After that fight, Beta had treated her with grudging respect. Neither of them had said anything about the fact they were traveling with a known murderer. It was as if that knowledge had been conveniently forgotten.

Xena sighed as she rode around to the edge of the village where Beta's son kept his house.

Thesia stepped out into the night and welcomed her. "I kept your dinner warm for you, Xena. You can bed your horse in Mikos' stable. It's around back."

The warrior nodded her understanding and gratitude. She dismounted and led Argo to the stable. After a brief rubdown, she checked the warhorse's hooves. When her inspection was finished, she filled the feed trough with some oats and hay. With a kiss to Argo's muzzle and a promise to return in the morning, she left.

Inhaling deeply, Xena let the crisp night air clear her thoughts. She realized that for the first time, she would be on the other end of a tribute raid. With her experience, she figured, she would have little difficulty turning away Skaridran's men. The village offered little cover; a straightforward engagement seemed the best way to proceed, but she considered several contingency plans.

The warrior's thoughts were interrupted when the tantalizing aroma of dinner teased her nose; her stomach growled its desire for fulfillment. With a sigh, the warrior entered the farmer's house.

The morning dawned with a clear sky. Xena had been awake to see the sun rise to dispel the early morning mist. With a clear purpose in her heart and a plan in her mind, she saddled Argo and put the warhorse through a few warm-up drills. She grunted in approval; the mare had not lost a step since Corinth.

As she was voicing her praise, the sound of hoof beats caught her attention. She calmly urged the warhorse into a trot that carried them to the front of the cottage.

She could see Skaridran's men as they rode up the main road through the village. Their mounts were dressed in gaudy leather; their weapons were more suited for a parade than a battle.

The lead rider stopped when he saw her alone at the other end of the village. Keeping a wary eye on the solitary warrior, he raised his voice. "Skaridran demands his tribute. Take what is his," he roared as he thundered down the road.

Xena focused on the rider charging towards her. She paid no attention to the chaos that erupted as the villagers sought to protect what was theirs. Her thighs flexed in anticipation; she drew her sword. Her heart quickened when she heard the familiar hiss of the blade coming free of its scabbard. Argo, in tune with her mistress' mood, eagerly complied when she ordered to charge. "Yah!"

The villagers stopped what they were doing to watch the two warriors meet in the middle of the village.

Sparks flew as swords clashed. A laugh rang out over the battle as Xena knocked the raider from his mount. With a swift move, she bent and laid him low with the hilt of her weapon. Raising her head, she saw two more raiders harassing an old man.

The raiders looked up in fear when the woman warrior soared through the air.

"Sheee-ya!" Two more raiders were sent into an oblivious sleep.

Xena looked around to find a new fight. She was obliged when several raiders stepped away from the villagers they were pushing around. "That's it," she taunted. "Let's see what kind of men you really are."

She ducked suddenly and let a man impale the one in the middle; he had thought to sneak up on the warrior. Xena kicked backwards into his gut. He fell to the dirt wheezing for breath. An arrow jutted from his side. In one smooth motion, the warrior jumped and landed kicks to the two raiders that remained.

Believing that Athena possessed Xena, the pillagers regrouped, grabbing their comrades as they fled the village.

Xena meant to follow, but the farmers surrounded her. Her eyes widened in surprise when they cheered their victory.

"Absolutely spectacular," Thesia said as she stepped from the circle. "Beta's all green with envy," she whispered in confidence.

Looking around, the warrior found the old Amazon; Beta was prepared to fight with her bow and a quiver of arrows. "Tell her that I'm grateful she was watching my back."

Thesia snorted with humor. "Her shoulder will be complaining for the next two months, but knowing that she fought in battle with you will be enough to make the pain an easy price to pay."

Xena's reply was saved when the elder councilman stepped forward. "On behalf of the village of Carinoc, I thank you for your assistance. Come, you must join us as we celebrate our victory."

"They'll be back," one farmer cried out. "They always come back."

The warrior raised her hands to still the crowd's rising murmurs of agreement. "I'm sorry I cannot join your celebrations. I have to go now." She whistled for Argo; she was eager to leave the villagers and the praise that made her uncomfortable.

"What about Skaridran?"

"He won't bother you anymore," she promised. She steered Argo away from the crowd and made her way to Beta who was standing in front of her son's house. "I think everything here will be all right now. You take care of yourself and your family." Xena paused as she ducked her head. "Thanks for taking that guy out. He almost had me."

The old Amazon smirked. "You knew he was there. I barely had the speed behind that one to pierce his leather...but you're welcome, nonetheless." Beta held out her hand and smiled warmly when Xena accepted it in a warrior's grasp. "Good knowing you, Xena."

"Same here, Beta."

"Here are your things," Thesia said as she guided two young boys that carried the warrior's bags.

Xena accepted them with a smile and secured them to her saddle. With a nod of farewell, she urged Argo to a gallop. She sat straight in the saddle as she rode out of the village. She figured she would follow the raiders' tracks to Skaridran. She smiled grimly when she thought of ways to discourage the warlord from raiding any more villages.

As the warrior rode away, two men watched with wide eyes.

"Did you see that," the taller one asked as he ran a hand through his unruly brown hair.

"Did I. I'm not sure I believe it, but it'll make a great story, eh, Homer?"

The bard closed his eyes to replay the battle; his lips moved silently as his heart found the words to describe the day's events. "I have to follow her, find out her name, where she's from," he suddenly blurted.

"Are you crazy," the other man asked.

"Aracan, what would you do for a good story, my friend? You've got to live the adventure!"

Aracan shook his head as Homer gathered his things. "Don't let her catch you, you fool," he shouted to the other man's retreating back. "I don't think she'd appreciate a bard following her around," he muttered to himself.

As was the usual nightly ritual, Gabrielle helped Cyrene cook and then serve the patrons who visited the tavern with the regularity of a prune-fed crone. Pausing a moment to take a breath, the blond woman wiped a few stray hairs from her forehead and pushed her way through the crowd that had gathered at the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Toris salute her for her bravery; she winked over her shoulder in return.

"I am telling you, Phildeus, it was the most incredible thing I have ever seen," one man insisted. "She was like a goddess, the way that she rode into that village and fought off those raiders."

Phildeus narrowed his eyes and took a sniff of his companion's brew. "Ey, Toris, me friend, ye better lay off'n this one's drink. 'E's seein' divine visions, 'e is."

"Come on, Phil," Toris chuckled, "give him a break. You don't know what Aracan saw when he was in Thessaly."

"Hmmph, if'n ye ask me," the old sailor vowed with a side nod of his head, "'E might be a'smokin' that herb they's got in the east."

Aracan shook his head adamantly and pounded the bar with his fist. "I was there, Phildeus. She was an elemental force, an agent of Athena. And her eyes...one look, and a man either fell in love or passed out on the spot from fear."

"Her eyes," Toris asked casually as he moved down the bar a bit to serve another customer.

Raising his voice to be heard across the short distance, Aracan explained. "They were the blue of a cloudless sky, of the deadliest ice, and of the sweetest water."

The bartender snorted and poured another ale. "Sounds like a walking contradiction, this fantasy woman of yours," Toris said.

"I saw them myself," Aracan insisted. "I looked into them and I swear that I drowned in their depths."

"'Ach," Phildeus cursed lightly. "Ye be seein' things me friend."

The two arguing men stopped their discussion when they saw that Toris was no longer interested in participating. They followed the younger man's eyes to the woman who was listening to them with a pale look upon her face.

"Gabrielle," Toris called, snapping the bard out of her daze. "Are you all right?"

The fair woman nodded absently as she sidled closer to Aracan. "Tell me about it," she whispered urgently.

The traveling bard nodded at his receptive audience and his golden eyes lit with an idea. Searching the crowd for the owner of the establishment, Aracan shuffled through the tables and shared a few words with Cyrene. When the innkeeper nodded with a smile, he gave the younger bard a thumbs up sign and ascended the stage to tell his story.

Aracan waited patiently until the crowd took notice of him and quieted. He raised his hands dramatically and took a deep breath. "I sing a song of a hero, brave and fierce. I tell you my story of the Warrior Princess, she who favors the weak and vanquishes the cruel and evil.

"I was there that day in the village of Carinoc, when the vile soldiers of Skaridran swept down from the hills like a savage plague of death. The screams of fear and the stench of blood filled the air, as women and children ran to hide while their simple, peace-loving men gathered to defend their homes, their honor.

"And just when the soldiers were about to ride them over, I heard her cry of vengeance. It was shrill and pierced the air like an avenging shade's wail. Skaridran's men halted their attack to find the goddess, and their eyes widened in disbelief when she rode into battle.

"A whirlwind of black leather and brass armor, she accepted the raiders' challenge. Her drawn sword reflected the sun's light, and her steed pawed at the earth like a beast from Tartarus. And when the goddess fixed her steely gaze upon the raiders, cries to the gods were uttered for deliverance. Like blue ice, like crystal fire, her eyes froze the soldiers in their boots and seared them with a piercing intensity.

"She chuckled then, the warrior sent by Athena. With a great leap, she soared through the air, into the middle of the raiders, and her blade sang a tune of deadly menace. Before anyone could even dare to ask from where she came, the warrior woman whistled for her horse and declined the offer of a banquet with a curt nod of her head.

"In the deepest tones of liquid honey, she addressed the village of Carinoc, and she told them that she was not worthy of their praise, but she was grateful, nonetheless, for the honor. She promised that Skaridran would no longer bother them, and then, as if vanishing into thin air, she disappeared.

"For two months, the village waited, anxious that the warlord would send men once again, but instead, stories of the warlord's defeat at the hands of an avenging warrior woman were sung in the tavern by a young man who had seen the battle first-hand. And from the mouth of Homer, the people of Carinoc named their savior the Warrior Princess, and to this day, toasts are raised in memory of the day that she freed them from the yoke of oppression."

The crowd that had been quiet through the bard's telling erupted into a chorus of shouts for more. Aracan searched for Gabrielle in the mass of bodies but he could not spy her fair, golden hair. Shrugging his shoulders, he smiled wide for his listeners and launched into another tale.

Hope found her mother leaning against the back of the inn. She approached her carefully, knowing that her mother was capable of harming her without knowing who she was first. "Mama," she called quietly.

Gabrielle raised a trembling hand to her mouth and searched the shadows for Hope. "What is it, honey?"

"Are you all right," the little girl asked, afraid that her mother was on the verge of crying.

"I'm fine, Hope. Aracan's story just got to me, that's all." Gabrielle grasped her daughter's hand gently and gave the little girl a timid smile.

"You think it might be her, Mama? Do you think it was Xena?"

"Yes, Hope, I do," Gabrielle admitted as a tear ran its course down her cheek.

Tilting her head to gaze into the night sky, the little girl studied the sparkling stars. "Don't be sad, Mama. If the Warrior Princess really is Xena, then be happy, because she saves people. Now that she's good, maybe she'll come home and you'll be happy again."

The bard looked into green eyes so like her own and smiled warmly. "You don't miss a thing, do you my sweet, little Hope?"

The child shook her head and squeezed her mother's hand tighter. "You were so sad for the longest time when you thought about Xena, Mama. And now, you want to believe that she is the hero in the story." The blond child cocked her head and began to swing her mother's arm. "I think she is, so you can, too."

Gabrielle gathered her daughter into an embrace and kissed the top of her head. "Ah...my little girl. What would I do without my Hope?"

Snuggling deeper into the warm hug, Hope grinned and shook her head. "I don't wanna know, Mama. I'm gonna stay with you forever."

"No, Hope," Gabrielle admonished gently. "Some day, you will grow up and learn your destiny. You will have to follow your own path."

"Can I be a hero like Xena?"

Gabrielle's answer was cut short when she heard a gasp in the kitchen. She entered the tavern to find Estepani bent over. The pregnant woman was clinging to the worktable; a puddle had formed around her feet. "Oh, boy," the bard whispered.

"What is it, Mama?"

"Go get Gramma, sweetheart," Gabrielle ordered curtly.

"Is it the baby? Is Aunt 'Stepi havin' her baby?"

"Yes, now please get Gramma for me." The bard wrapped a supporting arm around Estepani's thickened waist. "Come on, you can't have a baby in the kitchen. Cyrene will never forgive us."

Estepani chuckled weakly. "Gods, I wish Lyceus was here," she gasped.

"He is, 'Stepi. He's watching from the Other Side and he's telling you that you don't want to have this baby in the kitchen."

Gabrielle struggled to help the woman to her feet. She sighed with relief when Cyrene flew into the kitchen.

"Hope said that 'Stepi was having her baby in here," she cried; her voice shrilled with nervous excitement.

"She will be if we don't get her to her room," the bard grunted. "Mom, can you get the other side?"

Cyrene nodded quickly and supported Estepani's other side. Together they managed to get the woman to her room. "Send for Hippocrates," the innkeeper ordered as she gathered her wits.

Gabrielle chuckled as she backed out of the room. "And I thought life was dull around here."

The diners in the tavern froze when a scream ripped through the inn.

"It's all right," Gabrielle assured them as she crossed to the bar. "Just having a baby, that's all. You can go about your business."

Toris grinned when the bard pushed her way through the crowd. "It's really happening?"

"Oh, yeah." Hope, run over and fetch Hippocrates. Tell him that Estepani needs him right away."

"Yes, Mama," the little girl said as she jumped from her stool and ran out of the tavern.

"It'll be nice to have another young one running around."

Gabrielle turned to find Meleager offering her a drink. "Thanks."

"To long nights feeding," he offered in toast.

"Right back at ya," the bard replied as she drained her tankard in one long swallow. "Better get back there to see what she needs."

"I'll stay out here, this time," Meleager mumbled as he lowered his drink. "The last one nearly killed me," he admitted to Toris who smirked in agreement.

"Looks like I get the tavern for the rest of the night," he said as he stepped from behind the bar. "Can you handle this for me," he asked the ex-soldier.

"I think I can handle pouring a few drinks," Meleager replied as he took Toris' spot and draped a towel over his shoulder. "All right, you bar flies, what can I get ya?"

Six hours later, Toris and Meleager were cleaning the tavern when Estepani's cries of pain were interrupted by a baby's wail.

"Sounds healthy," Meleager said as he fell into an exhausted heap at the family table.

"It's a boy," Gabrielle shouted as she stuck her head around the corner into the tavern. "'Stepi's fine, the baby's fine...but I think Mom needs a drink."

Toris chuckled as he rose to fill the order. The baby's cries continued. "There goes a restful night," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"Maybe it's time to move to Eresthenes' place," Meleager suggested.

"I would if I could convince him to get rid of the silk drapes," Toris returned before he left to deliver the drink to his mother.

When he entered the room, Hippocrates was cleaning his medical instruments. Gabrielle and Cyrene were cooing over the family's new arrival. Looking over their shoulder's, he saw that his nephew had dark hair and pale eyes that were barely visible between half-closed lids. "What's his name," he asked as he handed his mother her drink.

"Lyceus," Estepani answered quietly as she studied the child in her arms.

The baby in her arms smacked his lips and closed his eyes. In moments, both were asleep.

"Here's to new beginnings," Cyrene quipped softly as she drained her mug.

Continued in Part Four

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