The Warrior, The Witch And The Nightmare

Homepage: Verrath's Book Of Tales

Prologue: Mount Olympus

Zeus slammed his fist angrily on the table before him, causing a sharp crack of thunder and a light rumble of the earth in the mortal realm. There was a crack in the stone table, too, he noticed. Nice. He still had what it takes...

"I am asking this one more time: Which one of you put that... woman into the mortal realm?" He glowered into the crowd of gods and demigods that were gathered in the Great Arena, staring hard at each in turn.

There was Aphrodite, all blonde, blue-eyed naivete... well, that was the picture she liked to paint of herself, but the ill-disguised leer on her face as she looked at the more physically appealing deities somehow did not quite match his image of the young innocent. She looked back at him with big, liquid, eyes and her best Who? Me? expression. Quite silly. But then, here was one whose power was not to be denied.

Hades, his helm tucked casually under one arm, garbed in ceremonial red and black armor. He returned Zeus' stare with a raised eyebrow, and a shrug. He exchanged furtive glances with Persephone, who was across the room with her mother. It was to be a while yet before he would be reunited with her.

Ares, all in black, lounging against a pillar cleaning his fingernails with a long dagger. Zeus was going to have to have another private talk with him soon. The God of War wore a decidedly smug expression.

Athena, the Owl - he called her that privately, never to her face - smirked at him. She might know the answer he demanded, and she might not. He rather suspected she just loved to see him this clueless.

The Hunting Goddess had arrived fashionably late, garbed in woodland colors, a hunting bow slung across her back, and a quiver bristling with arrows at her hip. Artemis graced him with a half-smile before she returned to her scrutiny of her favorite rival, Athena.

That hooded figure in the back of the hall would be one of the Fates, he supposed. The sisters never showed up together at these occasions, and hardly ever let on which one you were dealing with. They were a secretive bunch. He didn't like them. The power they held that even he had to bend to occasionally gave him the heebie-jeebies. Ugh.

Eris, now.... Goddess of Discord. She wore a gown of crimson velvet that clung tightly to her body in the most unsettling places, and flowed teasingly around others. A dangerous one, that. As dangerous as Nyx was mysterious. The Lady of the Night hovered close by, shrouded in barely opaque black gossamer.

Tyche, whom some called Fortuna. Not one to leave anything to chance.

Death was there, gaunt and silent. The pale moonlight from above played wicked tricks on her face, and made it appear almost like a grinning skull. Zeus had to admit it was a nice effect.

There was Gaea, and Chronos, the Master of Time, Hermes, of course, Morpheus and Hera, who had knifed him with stares ever since the gathering had begun. He could almost feel them burn on his skin. She could be creepy, when she tried.

But the one who drew most of the uneasy glances was Cupid, who had draped himself nonchalantly on the rim of the marble fountain. He carried his usual bow and quiver of dread arrows, but lately he had taken to using a silver hammer where he thought arrows weren't in order. Very subtle. The thing dangled innocently from a loop on his belt.

He wouldn't put this abomination past any of them - well, perhaps Aphrodite lacked the wit, and Hermes the guts, but other than that, he had a room full of suspects and no idea how to proceed. A disturbing condition, for a god.

"I don't approve of this type of meddling, you all know that. And this has gotten way out of hand. So, any suggestions?"

Ares flashed him a grin, and opened his mouth to speak, but Zeus forestalled him.
"Absolutely not, Ares," he roared. "Forget it. We owe that one too many favors already. There must be another way." He hoped.

"And what would that be?" the Owl asked him. "Considering you don't want us meddling. She would have to be stopped by mortal means. You really want to send some poor puny human after her? Don't be ridiculous."

Hades nodded his agreement. "What that woman does is definitely inhuman. I doubt if there is any mortal who can handle her. Hercules might be able to, but I guess he's out, too."

"I know just the one," Ares offered.

"I SAID NO!!!!" Little bolts of lightning shot from Zeus' ears, and for a moment it seemed a black cloud formed over his head. The mortal realm was whipped and pelted by a furious thunderstorm.

"I say let Cupid whack her with that hammer of his and then face her with Death here." Hermes offered. He drew back a little when the Grim Lady glided silently towards him and extended a skeletal hand. "Um, no need, really," he squeaked, retreating further. "You know I was joking, old friend, right? Right???"

"Of course, my dear," Death said softly in her eerie, velvety voice, "and I hope you liked my little return joke, too." She chuckled a little at the blush creeping up Hermes' cheeks.

"Do we even know where she is at the moment?" Aphrodite asked, her brow creasing prettily, "Do we have a way to find her?"

"One would like to think so," Athena the Owl muttered under her breath.

"She's a little hard to keep track of, it seems," Artemis explained, glaring at Athena, "Her route is erratic, and descriptions of her vary too much to trust any one of them. It's always easy to tell where she has been, though. Still, there's no pattern to her movement that I can see."

Athena matched her stare for stare. "That's quite a sad admission for the huntress, isn't it?" she said mildly.

Artemis drew herself up and opened her mouth for a retort.

"Stop that bickering," Zeus snapped, "and let's get back to business already. We don't have all century."

A bird winged silently up to Athena and perched on her shoulder. A small woodland owl. It figured. Athena cocked her head for a few moments, a slow smile spreading on her face. Then the bird took off, and was gone.

"Relax, Zeus," Athena told him, "she won't be down there forever. As a matter of fact, I don't think you will have much choice anymore. It seems things have been set into motion already."

Zeus narrowed his eyes, trying to fathom what she was up to. "And how's that?"

Another smirk from Athena. The Owl waved her arms, and an image formed over the marble fountain, startling Cupid, who tumbled backward for an impromptu bath. Nobody laughed, though, and glances went to the hammer at his waist.

"Watch," was all Athena said.

Chapter I : Friction

Summer was fast advancing into fall. Though the leaves were still green, a definite chill was in the early morning air, and after the previous night's violent thunderstorm, the air was filled with the rich smell of moist earth. A light mist stood knee-deep on the moss-covered forest floor, while the sun yet low on the horizon was just extending his first rays through the foliage. At this early hour, when the creatures of the night were retiring, and the daylight creatures just awakening, the forest was quiet and peaceful.

Well, almost.

"Do you always have to be so darn stubborn?" Gabrielle cried in exasperation, "I thought you vowed to give help where it's needed."

"Gabrielle -"

"Don't 'Gabrielle' me! Those villagers are so narrow-minded. We can't allow this -"

"Gabrielle -"

"- to happen. Where is your sense of justice?"

"Gabrielle, ENOUGH! I said no, dammit!" Xena growled, and flinched inwardly at Gabrielle's hurt expression. But at least she had finally gotten a word in edgewise. Only by brute force, she hated to admit. This arguing thing just wasn't in her bag of tricks.

The two friends were camping by a huge overgrown fallen tree a good way off the sparsely traveled forest road, not quite half a day out from the nameless little hamlet they had come through the day before. Xena had picked the spot in a hurry in an attempt to escape from the rapidly approaching thunderstorm the night before. It wasn't ideal, but there had been nothing better for miles around. The makeshift bivouac they had set up against the tree trunk and the little trench the warrior had dug around it had kept the worst of the storm out, at the cost of being huddled together in way too small a space, by a very meager excuse for a campfire. And some of the cold rain had found its way in, which had made them both wake up early, damp and shivering, to the angry hiss of water dripping on still smoldering embers.

The last few weeks had seen them traveling as they were now, with no particular goal - stopping a skirmish here, saving a village from raiders there. The usual.

The argument had been going on for some time. It had started just after they had left that last village, and Gabrielle had picked it up again as soon as she had opened her eyes that morning. Xena knew she was slowly, inexorably losing ground. She might be invincible as a fighter, but she was like a squalling babe when the weapon was her tongue, and Gabrielle her opponent.
Bows and arrows against the lightning, Xena thought wryly. It had been so much easier when she could just give the other woman one of her looks, tell her "No", and have her biting her lip and give in. But Gabrielle had so, so easily seen through her, battered away at the walls she had so carefully built around herself, and the warrior had long ago stopped being able to put the usual menace into her gaze when directed at the bard.

But this time Gabrielle was surely being dangerously stupid. She had to convince her this was a bad idea. She just had to. And she would. She would!

Gabrielle was silent for a while, sullenly poking at the dying fire with a stick, and just when Xena was beginning to wonder if her outburst had cut deeper than intended, the bard renewed her attack.
"Xena -"

"I've told you before" Xena let some of her impatience show in her tone. "No way. I - we - attract enough trouble as it is. This is inviting more than we need right now."
But she knew her voice wasn't carrying the conviction it had at the beginning of their discussion.
It's no use. She's going to do it again. What a weakling I have become! The mighty Warrior Princess, reduced to a puddle of mush by a girl bard. And I don't even know if I mind all that much. I bet Aphrodite is getting a good laugh out of this.

"Oh come on, Xena! You know I like to give things a chance."

Xena grumbled something under her breath involving the bard and a bucket of ice cold water, and chances.

"Hey, I gave YOU a chance, didn't I? Not that I'll say you didn't deserve it...."

Did I? Xena wanted to ask, did I really? In your eyes, yeah, I probably did, my friend.
But surely saying that aloud would move her even further towards defeat. So she just grunted.
Now, if you bat your lashes at me again and say "Puh-leeeeze, Xena," with that lost-puppy-look in your eyes, I'm going to...

Gabrielle batted her lashes at Xena and said, "Puh-leeeeze, Xena!"

Xena threw her arms up in frustration and sighed.
"Tell me, Gabrielle are those soulful looks what you practice when I'm not paying attention?"

"Oh thank, you, Xena, thank you," Gabrielle cried, and flung her arms around the warrior in an impulsive hug. And drew back quickly, remembering the other woman's reluctance to be touched. "I'm sorry, Xena," she stammered, "I know you don't... I mean... I just..."

"Forget it," Xena muttered gruffly. "If we're going to do this, we'd better get moving." And silently, Gods, I nearly lost it, there. I just hate it when that happens. She's just so - nice.

"And, Gabrielle?"

"Yes?"

Green eyes boring intently into hers made her forget cleanly what she had been about to say. Would you look at that? What am I, a lovesick teenager? And now, what'll I say to her? I AM losing it.

"Um, nothing. Forget it."

Gabrielle let her gaze linger on her for a few seconds, before she rose to douse the fire. Then she poured the rest of their morning tea into their cups, handing one to the warrior, who accepted it with a curt nod. I wonder if she realizes how she's playing with me. She can't really be this naive, not after all that time of travelling with an old grouch like me. And after all we've been through... Hades, she's seen things far beyond her years, and it's made her grow up faster and more cruelly than she should have. And I'm to blame. I should have sent her away, while I still could. Now even the thought hurts so much I want to claw at my face, screaming.

"Xena? Are you okay? You have the oddest look on your face."

The warrior somehow managed not to jump at the sound of Gabrielle's concerned voice. "I'm okay. Just... planning the day." Like Hades I am. Sure. "We don't even know if we're going to be on time. The execution would be at noon, and we're about four hours out."

"Then I suppose we'd better get a move on, hadn't we?" Gabrielle looked at her for a long moment, considering. She seemed about to say more, but then she just shrugged and continued rolling up her blanket.

Xena pulled herself together and started dismantling the bivouac, watching Gabrielle out of the corner of her eye, as the bard did her part of the morning routine with practiced efficiency, though suddenly uncharacteristically pensive. The warrior found herself actually missing the bard's incessant chatter. She wasn't sure what was wrong. Gabrielle had gotten her wish. Again. But why did the girl have a look about her like a beaten dog?
What is going on inside that pretty little head? Xena asked herself for the umpteenth time. Why is it that I can see through most strangers after the first few minutes, and fail so miserably with her? Or maybe I just don't dare believe the things I think I see there? When did she become this important to me anyway? She caught me completely off guard. I was prepared against falling for a man again, but I never thought I could feel this way about a woman. I walled everything up and she just - walked on through those walls, and she simply refuses to fear the darkness there. What have I ever done to deserve her?

*****

Gabrielle was still silent when they were on the road back towards the hamlet, hating herself for once again putting that dour look on her comrade's face. She had become a fair shot at anticipating her companion's moods, but there were still times when everything she said or did seemed to aggravate the warrior. Xena had seemed casual enough about finally giving in to her that morning, but there was an undercurrent there that Gabrielle could not identify. And neither could she understand her friend's trepidation about preventing that execution. To her, this was a clear case of a bunch of narrow-minded villagers condemning somebody just because that person was different. Xena, of all people, should have felt some compassion for the poor woman. So why had she taken one look at the woman, and told Gabrielle curtly that it wasn't their business to meddle in others' affairs, and that they had to get going? It was just not like her. And it had Gabrielle worried. Not about the wisdom of her own decision, but about the state of mind of her friend.

The need for haste had made her agree to mount behind Xena on Argo. The trusty mare carried them both at a brisk trot along the path they had taken the day before. The war-horse's jolting gait did not make for prolonged conversation, which was not a bad thing, Gabrielle supposed. Her companion was not in one of her more chatty moods anyway, and perhaps this way she would not notice that the bard didn't feel much like talking, either. Who are you kidding, Gabrielle, she chided herself, She's been a grouch ever since we set out this morning, and so have I. She's bound to have noticed. She's probably mad at me because I got through her defenses again. Scratch that. She's probably mad at herself because she let me. Oh, Hades, I don't know. Probably both. And I'm grumpy because she is. Or is she because I am? Gods, this gets complicated!

The forest soon gave way to an expanse of grassy plain, the land rising and dipping in soft, rolling hills, with an occasional copse of trees or a patch of brush dotting the landscape. Traces of the previous night's storm were everywhere. Trees stood crooked or lay toppled, and in one place a huge oak had been split down the middle by a bolt of lightning, leaving two blackened husks reaching crookedly towards the sky. The ground was drenched, with little rivulets of muddy water flowing between tufts of grass. After Argo had skidded and almost lost her footing for the third time on the slippery ground, the warrior slowed her down a bit to keep her from hurting herself. Gratefully, the golden mare shook her head and gave a heartfelt snort. Xena bent to pat her neck, and murmured something to her about bards in general and what she thought of their foolish ideas. Gabrielle tried not to listen.

It had bothered her less and less lately to be riding, since it gave her the rarely indulged pleasure of being physically close to her warrior friend. Xena stamped down firmly on most forms of contact between them, which gave no end of frustration to Gabrielle, to whom little touches and occasional hugs came naturally. It was all right when there were wounds to be dressed, or a stubborn buckle on a piece of armor to be opened, and sometimes she even got to massage the tension from the warrior's shoulders after a particularly wearying day, but anything more casual was out of the question.

But today, she would have been glad to be walking, just to be away from the cutting remarks a taciturn Xena had been sending Gabrielle's way whenever she did speak.

The warrior pulled Argo to a stop by the river. "Ares' feet," she cursed under her breath. Actually, Xena had mentioned a different body part, but Gabrielle wasn't sure she had understood correctly. She probably had, though, she decided, heat creeping up to her ears.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked, "Why are we stopping? Is... by the gods!" What had been a placid little stream the day before had turned into a raging flood after the night's deluge. Of the rickety wooden bridge that had spanned it, there was no trace. The water gurgled angrily around where the bridge's foundations had been, and made little vortices wherever a bigger rock was submerged. As they watched, the water ate away at a piece of the earthen overhang, dislodging it with a dull splash. Other debris was carried past by the muddy current, branches, cloth, planks, once even a dead sheep, bloated and already half-eaten by scavengers. A smell of mud and a faint aroma of feces and carrion accompanied the incessant roar and gurgle of the rushing water.

"Oh, great, that's all we need now," Xena growled as she swung gracefully out of the saddle.

"So, how are we going to cross?" Gabrielle said, starting to slide down from Argo's back as well. Shouldn't that be "What are we going to do?" Gods, I'm so sure even now that she'll go through with this, though here is the perfect reason for her to have us turn back. But she won't. She's never turned back once she set out on a path. Well, only once, she has. But that was the best and bravest thing she ever did, and I'm glad for it.

Two blue chips of burning ice looked at her with an unreadable expression, as a pair of strong hands grabbed the bard's slender waist and set her gently down just beside the muddy puddle she would have landed in. Even when she's mad at me, there are these little gestures, the bard mused. I should be miffed because she is treating me like a child again. But... well, I do like it when she lets herself touch me. And she just saved me from getting my feet all wet and muddy. She flashed Xena a tentative smile, and got a quirked eyebrow and a little shrug in return.

Gabrielle looked dispiritedly at the river they had to get across. Not that it will make much difference, after crossing that...

Xena went to work immediately, removing their bags and bedrolls, and relieving Argo of her gear. She put aside a length of rope, then began methodically picking up the bags, and tossing them in a neat arc way over the river onto the far bank.

"Nice throw," Gabrielle commented once, and earned herself a grunted "Thanks". Then Xena must have seen something in the bard's expression, because she flashed her one of her crooked grins to take some of the sting out of her tone.

The warrior made one last bundle out of Argo's blanket and their bedrolls, to send it on its journey across the river. Gabrielle never tired of watching Xena work that body of hers, no matter what it was the warrior happened to be doing. There was about her a sense of coiled power, and a catlike grace of movement. She made a dull thing like rolling up a blanket look aesthetic and exciting.

Totally absorbed, she let her gaze caress her friend's lithe, athletic form, take in the ripple of muscle, long straight limbs, raven hair framing those delicately chiseled features... Gods, she was so beautiful! Though the bard did not really want to think about it, her mind dragged her mercilessly onward to the memory of the last time they had taken a swim... Xena, standing naked on top of a rock by the lake. Her tanned body was glistening with drops of moisture, the blue of her eyes magnified by the lake's azure reflection in them, the bunching of muscle as she launched herself into the water, every inch of her the perfect picture of...

The realization that Xena had been looking at her for a while broke her train of thought.

"Let's get out of our clothes and have a little swim, why don't we?" the warrior said. A curious expression flitted across her features, and was gone.

"What...? Our clothes...? Uh..." Gabrielle, flustered, found herself blushing furiously. Was the woman reading minds, now?

Xena gave her a patient look. "Yes. Our clothes. Or do you want them to get wet when we cross?"

"Wet...? Oh, no, of course not! Yes. Sure. Um." The heat on her face deepened.

Her companion arched an eyebrow at her, but did not speak. Instead, Xena started unbuckling her armor.

Oh, gods, I must have had the silliest look on my face just now! I hope she doesn't think I was thinking... what I was thinking. I can't believe I went off like that! I must really have it bad. She studied the warrior covertly, but the woman's body language betrayed nothing of her thoughts. Not that Gabrielle had expected it to.

"Well, onward," the warrior said crisply after their clothes had joined the other gear on the far bank, "Here's what we're going to do..."

The plan was basically for Xena to swim across, to haul first Argo and then Gabrielle along on the rope. Faithful Argo made the crossing, head raised high and eyes rolling, without further incident.
The bard was a fair swimmer, but she felt like a feather in a storm as the force of the water knocked her about effortlessly. How even one as strong as Xena had managed to cross that so effortlessly was beyond the young woman's grasp. Only the warrior's steady strong pull on the rope that Gabrielle had tied around her waist let her make any real progress towards the far bank. There was one tense moment when a huge tree trunk floated with thunderous momentum towards her while she was still paddling helplessly in the middle of the river. Gabrielle only just avoided being squashed by quickly ducking under the surface at the warrior's warning yell. As it was, the rough bark grazed her in passing and left a set of burning red welts down her back. And all the while the angry roar of the flooding stream raged in her ears, blotting out even the frenzied pounding of her heart.

As she lay panting on the far bank, her companion handed her her clothes and a piece of linen to dry herself off, before she examined the raw scratches on the bard's back.

"You were pretty darn lucky," Xena murmured a little later, while she carefully massaged some soothing ointment into the bard's wounds , "I sure hope this woman is worth going through all that trouble."

Gabrielle hoped so, too.

The two friends continued on their path, silent once more, each lost in her own thoughts.

*****

They were close now. The place where the village must be, beyond the next rise, could already be made out by a few tendrils of black smoke that snaked lazily into the sky. Gabrielle had decided that she would be better off walking after all, and had not mounted Argo again after the crossing of the river. Xena felt grateful for the respite that offered her battered self-control. Having the young woman this close did terrible things to her emotional shield. But she had to admit that it did feel good. Entirely too much so. It brought things back to the surface she had thought dead, buried, and good riddance. With a slight shake, she pushed her turmoil firmly into the dark recesses of her mind, and cleared her head for the business at hand.

"Gabrielle, I still don't think this is a good idea...."

The bard stopped dead in her tracks, looking up at the warrior from under lowered eyebrows. "Xena, you promised!"

"I know." Xena, seized by sudden inspiration, decided to try one last all-out attack.
"Gabrielle, do you trust me?"

"Of course I do. You know that."

"Then why won't you trust my judgement on this?" The Gods know you have more faith in me than I do half of the time. Why not now? The tall warrior mentally patted herself on the back. Good one, Warrior Princess! Let's see how she's going to counter that!

"Why is this so important to you?" Gabrielle demanded quietly. "What has that woman done to you that you would put her through this? Tell me, Xena!"

Done? She's done nothing. But how can I tell you that just looking into that woman's eyes scares the Nine Hells out of me? That just thinking about her makes me shake like jelly in a hurricane? That I have no idea why? Sorry, little bard. I wish I could bring myself to admit that to you. "Nothing. Just... a hunch." If she buys that, my name is Salmoneus.

"You would let her die on a hunch? Really, Xena, I know you better than that." Gabrielle looked up at her, green eyes questioning

Sigh.
Xena swung down from Argo's back, landing lightly on her feet by Gabrielle's side, and gave the mare a pat. She took a deep breath as she fell into step beside the bard. She hated being thought irrational or cruel, and she did want her friend to understand... whatever there was to be understood. She wasn't so sure about that herself anymore.
"Listen, Gabrielle, I can see that these people are being unreasonable, and I can't stand that any more than you can. It's just... I have a very bad feeling about this woman and I don't know why. That's all I can say. Let's just be on our guard, okay?"

Gabrielle arched an eyebrow at her, and smiled. "You mean, you usually aren't? Come on, how much trouble can one woman be? I'm sure you can handle it."

She's right, of course, she is just one woman. But what makes me wonder is, why are these otherwise good and sensible people so afraid that they are ready to kill her without even the semblance of a trial?
Xena looked at the smoke rising from beyond the hill, and stopped dead, drawing a surprised grunt from Argo, who found her reins suddenly yanked. The warrior spat another oath that brought new color to Gabrielle's cheeks.
"That smoke... How could I have missed that? That's no chimneys burning! C'mon!" She was on the golden mare's back before she had finished speaking, and without waiting for the usual protests, pulled a startled bard up behind her and kicked a very indignant war-horse into a dead gallop.

*****

A devastating sight greeted them as they slid from Argo's back.
Not one wooden building in the small hamlet remained intact, and most were no more than heaps of charred rubble scattered on the dusty ground. Here and there they could see a brick chimney sticking up out of the still smoldering debris. The smell of ashes and burnt flesh was strong in the air. Gabrielle choked and closed her eyes as her gaze wandered across several blackened heaps that were not wood. Some of them were so small... Xena steadied her with a hand on her arm as a wave of dizziness claimed her.

"Easy. Shhh. It's not pretty, I know." Xena's gentle tone was enough to dissolve the bard into helpless, hiccuping sobs. The warrior surprised herself faintly by pulling the other woman into a hug. She battled resolutely against her unruly emotions when she felt Gabrielle relax against her, and bury her face into her bosom, still sobbing. Xena just held her, gently stroking the strawberry blonde hair, whispering soothing words, and asked herself bitterly what kind of comfort her dark presence could offer. After a while, the sobbing stopped, and Xena felt the hug returned.

"Thanks," Gabrielle mumbled into her breastplate, "that really helped."

"Yeah, well, all in a day's work, isn't it?" She shrugged, and gave Gabrielle a half-grin.

That drew a tiny smile from the still distraught young woman. A smile that warmed Xena all over, somehow.

They both perked up at a sound from what had been the village green. A stake had been erected there, and from it hung another limp bundle, held in place by thick ropes. And moving. Ever so faintly.

"Well," Xena drawled, "time to find out what happened here. C'mon!"
Reluctantly she released her hold on the bard and felt another unexpected surge of warmth when Gabrielle squeezed her once before letting go. Xena had to mentally shove herself into action. Cut out the mooning, Xena! On to the business at hand, Warrior Princess!

As they approached the huddled form at the stake, the figure moaned softly and stirred again. There could no doubt about the identity of this person. It was the same woman whose death at the stake they had come here to prevent. Xena drew her breast dagger, but hesitated, until she became aware of Gabrielle's intense scrutiny. Okay, then, here goes. We'll just have to see whose hunches were right. I still think we're inviting trouble. No, I know we are. Just don't let her open her eyes before I've finished tending to her injuries! With a quick flick of her wrist, she cut the already brittle ropes and caught the woman in her arms as she dropped like a sack, unconscious.

Closer examination of the stranger revealed miraculously little injury. In fact, while her clothes and the ropes that had bound her were thoroughly charred, there were no more than superficial burn marks on her body. Apart from a fair number of welts and bruises, the only wound that could be considered serious was a long gash across her abdomen, which was half-healed and showing signs of ebbing infection. That was definitely not brought about by the attempted execution. This was an older wound, ill cared for. Xena felt anger rise in spite of herself. Hadn't they had healers here? The woman might well have died from that infection, saving the villagers the trouble of executing her.

As a matter of fact, it was quite a puzzle to the warrior that the strange woman had not died. The wound was deep, and should have caused massive internal bleeding. The sickly green and smelly pus seeping out of the hardly healed wound spoke of painful, creeping death. And the fire. The flames had raged all around her, and yet here she was, mostly untouched by them, while every single building in this village - and most of its people, it seemed - had been utterly destroyed. She must surely be Tyche's chosen, to have survived all that. Once again the warrior wondered what had transpired here. There were no traces of a raid, and lightning could not have been the cause either. Somehow, this woman must have had something to do with it. Perhaps she really was a witch, as they had said.

The two companions had moved the unconscious woman to the outskirts of the village, where the destruction was not quite so evident. They had set up their camp under the roof a rickety three-sided shelter that had probably been built for the shepherds. When she was satisfied that she had done all she could for her patient, who was now resting comfortably on an improvised litter, Xena barely kept from heaving a relieved sigh. The woman had not regained consciousness, and she had not had to look into those terrible eyes.

Upon first meeting the woman's steely blue gaze, the day before, Xena had felt shock waves of totally irrational terror run up and down her spine. There was darkness and evil in those eyes. Xena remembered thinking that if her own eyes were anywhere near that intense, piercing shade of blue, it was no wonder she was so good at intimidating people. And the jet black hair framing that pale face added a contrast that was both striking and eerily familiar.

As the woman lay there now, eyes closed and face relaxed in unconsciousness, she looked perfectly harmless. The tall warrior suddenly felt very sheepish. She had let herself be carried away by some silly fancy, it seemed. It was a good thing Gabrielle, at least, had kept her wits about her. Gods, I wish I knew what was wrong with me. I've never been one to overreact in this way. Gabrielle...it must be her. She makes me feel so... weak. It's messing me up completely. I can't concentrate, I jump at shadows... and I've done things lately because of her that I never dreamed I could be capable of, to get her out of a fix, or just to please her. It's wonderful. It's scary. I want so much to open up for her, but I can't!

A light touch on her arm made her look up into a pair of liquid green eyes and that lovely, lovely face. She thought her heart would burst with the beauty of it. "Xena, are you all right?" Gabrielle's voice was tinged with concern. She carefully extended a hand towards the warrior's face, but dropped it immediately as Xena drew back a little and angrily wiped away the single tear that had somehow found its way onto her cheek.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said flatly, and added with studied casualness, "why don't you keep an eye on our patient while I go check over the village again? I'll see if I can find any survivors, and ... do what I can for the rest."

Gabrielle swallowed. "Do... do you need any help?"

Xena gave her a little half-smile. Knew she was going to ask, didn't I? Even though she hates the mere thought of facing that sight again. I wish I had half her courage, sometimes. "No. I'll be okay. You just stay here and keep your friend there out of trouble." Gods, why did I have to put so much sting in that? I'm sorry, friend. Without waiting to see the expected hurt in the bard's expression, the warrior turned and strode briskly back towards the village.

Chapter II : Tarot

Gabrielle watched Xena's retreating back until a still partly intact dwelling hid her from view. I wonder what made her say that? I probably shouldn't have let on that I saw that tear. Made her yank up her defenses all over again. But she looked so...lonely all of a sudden. I wish I knew what brought that about. Gods, but she can be so nice when she tries! That hug, there in the village... It felt so...good...right. I want to be doing that all the time. She grinned ruefully to herself. But just now, if I had my arms around her, I wouldn't know whether I wanted to hug her, or strangle her.

At a sound from the litter, the bard turned her head, and looked straight into a pair of heavily ringed, but clear green eyes. She had no idea how long the woman had been watching her, but she seemed very much awake. The intensity of the stranger's gaze sent a small shiver down Gabrielle's back, but the bard forced a smile to her face. "Hi. How are you feeling?"

The woman's voice was high but not unpleasantly so, though a little hoarse from dehydration and disuse. She spoke with a slight lisp. "Considering I've almost had my guts ripped out, and been burned at the stake, I suppose you could say I'm swell," was the dry reply, followed by a groan as she tried to sit up. Gabrielle waggled a finger at her, and pushed her back into the blankets.

"You are not to move until my friend gets back. She gets annoyed when her orders aren't followed to the letter. And believe me, you wouldn't want her annoyed."

"I remember you," the stranger said, still not taking her eyes off the bard. "You were in the village yesterday and talked to the mayor. About me, I suppose. And your friend would be that tall dark brute of a woman who looked as if she wanted to eat everybody alive."

Gabrielle felt her hackles rise at that, but she held her peace. "I'm Gabrielle. And she is Xena."

"The Warrior Princess and her bard. I've heard of you." She attempted a shrug. "But then, who hasn't? Well, thank you for helping me, Gabrielle. My name is Mrtva."

The bard creased her brow. "That's an unusual name. I've never heard it before. Is it Greek?"

Mrtva shook her head. "It's from a very ancient language no longer spoken anywhere I know of. My ... mother... had a liking for such things. I have no idea what it means."

Gabrielle caught the slight hesitation around the word "mother", and she found she couldn't quite believe that bit about the woman not knowing the meaning of her name. But she shrugged it off as a silly fancy.

"So, um, Mrtva. Why don't you tell me what happened to those poor people? And for that matter, how you managed to survive that inferno. As far as I can tell, that's not the work of a raiding party, or any warlord I can think of."

Mrtva did not answer right away. She gave the bard a hunted look, then closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Without those emerald eyes drawing her gaze like some magnet, Gabrielle noticed how very pale and drawn the poor woman looked. Her reddish-blond hair clung in damp strands to her face, singed and curled up in some places. Why, it's almost the same color as my own, the bard mused, and the eyes, too. Strange coincidence.

"Well?" Gabrielle finally prompted.

"It' all so fuzzy," the injured woman replied, "I hardly remember anything." Her voice took on a far-off quality. "They tied me to that pole, and then basically did what I guess people do on such occasions. There were a few speeches, a priest sprinkled me with some weird-smelling powder and did a little chant, that sort of thing. Then the henchman held his torch to the kindling and - BOOOM - there was this huge explosion... fire... heat... pain. I was half out of it from the beginning, because my gut wound was troubling me something awful, so it's really all a bit vague. Sorry, I'd really like to tell you more, but..."

"Well, it'll have to do for now. I'm sure Xena will find some clues over there. We'll just wait until she finishes her ... task and gets back here. I've got some herb tea for you to drink. It's to help against the infection, and there is something in there to help you sleep. Tastes like yesterday's boots, but it will do wonders for you."

Mrtva regarded her suspiciously. "I don't know. How can I be sure I can trust you? What if this is some drug?"

Gabrielle gave her an arched-eyebrow-look. "If we had wanted you to die, we would not have backtracked half a day's worth of travel and almost drowned in a flooding river to get here," she said evenly. "And we most certainly would not have faced that horrible sight back there to cut you down from that stake. Do you get the idea?"

The woman sighed. "I suppose you're right." Then, after a short pause, she said. "But there is one great favor you could do me."

"And what's that?"

"I have this little leather pouch that travels everywhere with me. It must still be where they kept me prisoner the last few days. It's pretty tough, and might just have survived the fire." She gave the bard a pleading look, that sent small shivers of unreasonable fear down Gabrielle's back. "There are a few things in there that mean very much to me, so I would really appreciate it if you could try and recover that for me."

Gabrielle considered. The request seemed ludicrous. Was it really worth the pain and trouble for her to face those burned bodies all over again, for a bag? Or worse, to ask Xena to retrieve it for her? She could see the warrior now, eyes widening while her brows drew together a little, her incredulous snort telling more clearly than words ever could what she thought the woman could do with her pouch. She had to smile at the image. No, asking Xena to do it was not an option. And she herself truly did not feel up to it either. But her tender heart finally won out, and she said,
"Tell you what. I'll go look for your pouch, on one condition - you be a good patient and drink that tea, and go to sleep. Do we have a deal?"

Mrtva gave her a strained smile. "It's a deal," she agreed.

*****

When Xena heard the sound of approaching footsteps, she immediately let her predatory instincts take over. She dropped to a crouch where she stood by a half-dislodged door leaning crookedly on its charred hinges, and listened intently. Light footsteps. A small person, moving hesitantly but fairly stealthily. The warrior released the breath she'd been holding, and rose to her full height just as Gabrielle approached the hut she'd been examining. The young woman gave a startled yell and just barely caught herself before she whacked her staff at her friend.

"Oh gods, Xena, you just scared the dickens out of me."

Xena gave her a flat look. "Well, you know better than to creep up on me."

"I wasn't trying to do that," the bard said defensively, "and besides, how was I supposed to know you're hiding in the rubble? I sort of expected you to be a little more...visible."

"Well, I wasn't. Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought we agreed that you were to stay with that woman until I was finished here." The warrior vainly searched for a way to ease the tension that had once again crept between them, but it seemed her words came out gruff and patronizing, and not the way she meant to say them at all.

Gabrielle bit her lip. "She came round just after you left. We talked a little, and I gave her some of that tea, and she asked me to go look for something of hers over here."

The warrior raised an eyebrow in question.

"A pouch. With some stuff in it."

"A pouch." The warrior shook her head. "Look, I know what happened here is a nightmare for you. And still you come back to this place, ready to face that all over again, for a pouch?? And you don't even know the woman. Gabrielle, you're incorrigible."

"Well, it seemed awfully important to her to get it back. So I figured I'd just go see if there's anything left of it." She studied her hands. After a moment of indecision, she added, in a small voice "And I figured, while I was here, I'd just sort of check on you, too." She looked up at the dark-haired woman, eyes pleading silently.

Hades, does she know she melts me down to the core with that look? Xena drew a deep breath, and tried but failed to keep the gruffness out of her voice. "Listen, I didn't mean to snap at you back there. You just always seem to catch me in the wrong mood."

Gabrielle flashed an unsteady smile. "That's okay. Forget about it."

The warrior gave her a quick clap on the shoulder. "C'mon, then, let's go look for that bag of yours. I can finish up here later." She quirked a wry eyebrow. "It's not as if anyone here will be going anywhere anytime soon."

That earned her a backhand slap in the rump. "You're terrible, you know that?" But for some reason, the bard seemed more relaxed now. Ah, well, even I can get something done right every once in a while, Xena mused. But Hades kiss her if she knew what that something was.

"And we're glad you approve," the tall warrior said with a grin.

While they made their way towards what had been the village green, Gabrielle filled her in on what little she had been able to learn from that woman, whose name, it seemed, was Mrtva. The word struck a familiar chord, but Xena could not quite place it. The warrior herself had not found out much beyond the fact that there must have been a huge explosion, and that the fire had just roared through this little town like a wave of death. It brought painful memories of another little village that had met a similar fate, at her own hands, long ago.

The warrior thanked the gods for Gabrielle's sake that she had started her grisly work here, where most of the dead bodies had lain. The green was now just a blackened patch of ground, with a bit of rubble strewn about for good measure, and the smell of charred wood mercifully more evident than the residual stink of burnt flesh. An errant little breeze whipped up some ashes and twirled them playfully across the ground before their feet.

To their faint surprise, the two friends had no trouble at all in locating the little leather pouch. They found it close to the hut Mrtva had described. It sat, charred and cracked in places but still reasonably intact on top of a heap of what must once have been sacking, or some type of clothing. In fact, Xena had the uncomfortable feeling that this had been way too easy. It had all her senses on alert.

"I don't trust this at all," she muttered darkly. She held the pouch a little gingerly, and tried to feel its contents. There was the unmistakable faint rustle of dried herbs, a flat, roundish object she guessed to be a hand mirror, a heavy set of objects that would be mortar and pestle, and a squat, rectangular packet that had her crease her brow in puzzlement. It flexed easily when she tried to bend it, but seemed solid enough otherwise. She shrugged a little and handed the pouch to the bard. As she did, she felt something shift faintly inside, accompanied by the crisp clanking sound of stone on metal.

"Be careful with that. I have no idea what she's got in there." She waited for Gabrielle to nod as the bard took the bag from her by its long strap and slung it over her shoulder. "And, Gabrielle?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever you do, don't open it!" The younger woman suddenly looked like a child who had been caught with one hand in the cookie jar. Well, what do you know? Looks like I scored a direct hit there. As somehow, I knew I would.

Xena smirked and waggled a finger at the bard. "Aha! Score one for the Warrior Princess," she said with a wink. And continued, "But seriously, Gabrielle. Promise me you're not taking any chances with that, okay? Okay??"

The bard sighed. "Yeah, okay. I promise. I'll see you in a bit, then?"

Xena nodded curtly. "Yeah. But you might wanna save me some dinner. This might take a while."

"Dinner? Sure I will. As soon as I figure out what we're having. Our stores are a little low just now."

"We're having roast mutton," Xena said casually, "I left it at the sheep pen, just outside the village. You can pick it up on your way back."

"Mutton? Gods, Xena, did a ram just jump in front of you and say, 'hey you look like you'd like to have me for dinner', or something?"

The warrior quirked a lazy eyebrow. "Something like that, yeah."

Gabrielle threw up her arms and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. Then she turned and headed back towards their camp, muttering softly to herself, "Warriors! Gotta love 'em!"

Xena watched her go until she was out of sight, with a surge of emotion that startled and shocked her. She wanted so much more of this woman than she could ever dare to ask for. Too often lately she found herself dreaming of lying in the bard's embrace, having Gabrielle stroke her hair, her neck, murmuring soft words to her, and gently kiss away all the darkness and pain. Never before had she fallen so completely for someone, or so hard. She had long ago decided that there could be no room for love on the path she had chosen. But looking for the first time into those green eyes, trusting and innocent, had changed the world for her. She had lost that particular battle before she had even realized she was fighting it.

And she could not dare to make her feelings known, for more than one reason. The first, most obvious, being the fear of forcing something upon Gabrielle the other woman did not want and thereby alienating her. The pain and humiliation of that rejection was more than she cared to even think about. The second, while not as evident, was by no means less substantial. It had never been in her fundamental nature to open herself up to anybody. She had been a loner since her early childhood, and had grown up learning that you kept your weaknesses firmly locked inside, or others would come and ruthlessly take advantage of them. Because that was where you could truly be hurt, if you let yourself. She had not made the mistake of completely trusting somebody very often in her life, but she had paid dearly every single time. Old habits died hard. She was just not ready to take that risk again. She wasn't. She wouldn't. No way!

The warrior shook her head angrily to clear it, and, squaring her shoulders, went about continuing her dreary task.

*****

Mrtva was still asleep when Gabrielle arrived back at their camp. The young bard had to admit that she had been sorely tempted to open the pouch and have a peek, but finally her sense of propriety and the memory of Xena's stern admonition had won out.

She took the opportunity to study their patient more closely. Mrtva was not tall, in fact, it seemed she must be almost half a foot shorter than herself, a tiny little slip of a woman. Her face, while lined, somehow did not seem old. Gabrielle found that she was unable to put any age to her at all. She might be twenty, or sixty, no way of telling. And she had the palest skin the bard had ever seen on a living person. It was almost creepy, that pallor with a tinge of green, and the deep rings under her eyes. But that really wasn't much of a surprise, considering what the poor woman had had to go through.

Days were definitely getting shorter, the bard noticed as she watched the sun alighting on the western horizon, and a definite chill had entered the air in the last few days. With an inward sigh, Gabrielle resigned herself to another more than uncomfortable period of travel in the months to come. For now, though, things were still bearable, even after the thunderstorm had thoroughly drenched the earth, and their clothes, though not truly wet after their night in a makeshift shelter, were nevertheless clammy. It was a wonder a fire could have taken hold at all with the wood of the buildings still damp from the rains. Must have been some explosion!

Sitting down by the fire and pushing her unruly hair out of her face, the bard quietly set about preparing the already gutted and skinned carcass. That was just like Xena, she mused. Wading in dead bodies, digging graves, searching the rubble for survivors, this amazing woman had still found the leisure not only to kill, but to neatly butcher and skin that ram, a task she knew darn well that Gabrielle wasn't partial to. The hide had been laid out next to it, and would make a nice addition to their blankets, once it had been properly cured.

She deftly cut a few choice pieces, rolled them in a collection of herbs and spices, and hung the rest over the fire to smoke. The spiced steaks she wrapped in large leaves and set them into the glowing coals. Very soon a delicious odor permeated the air.

"That smells really good," Mrtva remarked from where she lay on the litter.

"Oh you're awake," Gabrielle said smiling. "Feeling a little better?"

Mrtva smiled wryly. "Just splendid. No, seriously, whatever was in that tea really helped. Let me guess: powdered catfern, sheepstongue, and perhaps a little arrowleaf?"

The bard laughed. "I'm afraid you're speaking gibberish to me. It's Xena who's the herbalist." She rummaged in one of their bags, and removed their last supply of roots, which she began to cut into small pieces to make a vegetable broth.

Mrtva cackled a little. "Ah, that would explain that foul taste. Stinkweed, I'd say. Doesn't like me much, that one. Knew it the first time she looked at me, the cunning... Anyway, did you have any luck finding my things?"

Once again, Gabrielle forced herself not to flare at the slight sent Xena's way, though she knew her smile must look a little strained now.

"As a matter of fact, yes," handing the other woman the pouch. "I hope nothing's been broken in there."

Mrtva almost snatched the bag out of the bard's hand, and flung back its flap to look inside. She heaved a little sigh, and said with relief, "No, everything's still there, and in one piece, thank the gods!"

She drew forth, one after the other, all the items Xena had identified earlier - a collection of dried herbs, a mirror, mortar and pestle. The mirror was a garish thing, about the size of the palm of a small hand, framed with an ornate pattern of interlaced thorny vines, set with eyeballs, bird's claws and bats wings, all intricately carved from some dark wood. The handle was wrapped in black leather and inset with a dark shimmering stone in the shape of an eye. It looked positively horrid. Well, there was no accounting for tastes.

The injured woman gave the items a thorough examination, and put them back, satisfied. Last, she reverently unpacked the mysterious packet that had so baffled the warrior.

"What's that?" the bard asked, her curiosity piqued. "Not that I mean to pry or anything," she added quickly.

The other woman regarded her intently. "It's a Tarot." After seeing Gabrielle's nonplussed expression, she added, "a fortune telling device. A set of one hundred cards that tell your future, if you know how to read them."

"You're a fortune teller? Oh, goody!"

"Among other things," the other woman said secretively. The bard smiled privately. That sounded almost like Xena's "many skills" line!

"Can...can I see those? And will you read them for me?" Gabrielle felt like a child on Solstice Night. She had always been intrigued by the traveling fortune tellers and their craft. She had found out over the years that their readings were designed to please, and hardly ever held even the slightest spark of truth, but the darkly mysterious aura these people liked to create around themselves never failed to thrill her. But she had never seen it done with this Tarot thing.

The fortune teller hesitated.

Gabrielle caught herself. "Oh, but I shouldn't tax you. You really need some rest, after all that's happened to you."

"No, it's not that...I feel much better," Mrtva assured her. "And it's not as if this is very strenuous work. I might give it a shot. After dinner?" This with a longing glance at the fire.

"Gods, how long has it been since you last ate?" Gabrielle exclaimed, "You must be starving. Just let me prepare that broth, and I'll se if I can get some of that meat down you. I'll just run and get some water. Be right back."

After they had both eaten - Gabrielle had cut small bits of meat for Mrtva and cooked them with the vegetable broth - Mrtva once more unpacked the Tarot cards.

"Now," Mrtva explained. "I call this the Psyche, or Butterfly, Spread. It requires that we first determine your personal card, the one that will represent you later on during the reading."

"And how do we do that?" Gabrielle asked, the familiar giddy excitement at the mysterious slowly building.

"We pick it. Technically, it could be any card whose symbolism means something to you, but since you are not familiar with the deck, let's say we just use one of the Queens."

She sifted through the deck, and finally laid out five cards in front of her.

"Okay," she said, "one section of the deck is organized in five colored suits numbering fourteen cards each, every one of which has its own symbolism. These are called the Minor Arcana. The remaining thirty are the Major Arcana, where each symbol is special and all by itself indicates a significant occurrence, but still must be viewed in the context of its mates. " She looked at the bard. "Am I confusing you?"

"Yes," Gabrielle agreed happily. "Go on. I'm loving this!"

The fortune teller's lips formed a smile as she indicated the cards lying face up before her. "Here we have the Queens of Staffs, Swords, Cups, Disks, and Aura. They stand for women of different personalities."

The bard contemplated the cards. They were beautifully drawn, picturing women bearing the symbols of their suit, before colorful backgrounds. She looked questioningly at the pale woman facing her.

Mrtva half-closed her eyes, and intoned softly in her sibilant voice,
"Staffs, Suit of Fire, Nature, or Activity. This is a woman with much drive and energy, who believes in taking matters into her own hand. The archetype of the fighter, and physical prowess."

"Sounds just like Xena," Gabrielle whispered softly, "only the staff doesn't fit." The image in question showed a black-clad woman wielding a staff, framed by a fiery background of yellows and reds.

Mrtva proceeded to briefly outline the characteristics of the remaining Queens. It turned out that the five suits represented the five elements: Fire, Air, Water, Earth, and Spirit. The five Queens could be roughly categorized as the fighter, the alchemist, the mother, the ruler, and, the Queen of Aura, the bard.

"Funny," Gabrielle mused, "I thought for sure it would be Staffs, somehow. And it seems that fits Xena better than the Swords." She shrugged. "Okay, then. Aura it is." She brushed one finger over the card of her choice, a woman clad in colorful garb playing the pipes and whirling in dance.

Mrtva nodded to herself. "Thought so." She put the five Queens back into the deck, and spread out all cards, face down this time, before her.

"Now I need you to shuffle the cards, and organize them into five piles of twenty, and place them here before me."

Gabrielle did, marveling at the smooth texture of the cards. They felt very much like one of her scrolls, only a little sturdier. When she was done, Mrtva said, "Now we need to find the pile that contains your personal card. Those will be the cards we are going to work with."

That done, she picked up the pile of cards and deftly spread them face up into a pattern that did indeed vaguely resemble a butterfly.

The fortune teller pondered the cards for a moment. "This is very unusual," she muttered after a while.

"What is?" Gabrielle was completely spellbound. This was giving her the shivers. What fun!

Mrtva did not look up. "There is an uncommon concentration of Major Arcana in that spread," she answered absently.

"And, is that good, or bad?" Gabrielle persisted, mystified. Aside from her own card, she had spotted Xena's as well, and Death, pictured as a skeleton in a cloak carrying a scythe. Death probably would not appreciate that. The Grim Lady was a beautiful woman, if somewhat gaunt. There was also a completely blank card.

"We'll see," Mrtva replied elusively.

"What's this blank card?" the bard said, pointing. "Did they run out of pictures to paint?"

"Hush. That is the Ghost. Never mock that. And let me do my reading now, will you?"

"Uh, sure," Gabrielle said, and subsided with a little pout. While Mrtva was immersed in her contemplation of the spread, the enthralled bard did some studying of her own. Mostly she admired the beautiful pictures. One was labeled "Chariot", and showed a Roman chariot with two running horses hitched to it, one black, one white. The Nine of Cups was a very curious translucent flask, surrounded by pewter mugs. The neck of the flask somehow bent way back into the belly and through it, coming out at the bottom. Very weird. The Eight of Aura, a circle divided by a sinuous line, one half colored white, the other black. Sacrifice, a man hanged upside down. Desire. She glanced over that, the picture hardly registering, then whipped her gaze back, incredulous, taking a closer look. And blushed furiously. Gosh! I didn't know they made such... detailed pictures. I never dreamed you could do... that... in this way... gods!

A little while longer, and Mrtva began to speak. "As I said, this is a little unusual. But I'll see what I can make of it. Here, this side of the spread is the recent past. There seems to have been a man there, one you loved, or at least liked very much, but finally lost, and I'd say in some very abrupt way." She pointed to the King of Cups, and her hand took in the surrounding Minor Arcana.

"Perdicus," the bard whispered, stricken.

"Here's the Fool. It's the first card in your timeline." She pointed to a card depicting a youth walking with his gaze in the clouds, and a little dog tagging him who looked about to take a bite out of his pants. "It symbolizes a new beginning. You have either shed your previous life to begin anew, or something happened that made you feel alive for the first time."

"Right, on both counts," Gabrielle murmured. Mrtva lifted her gaze to look at her, green eyes looking straight into her soul, it seemed. The bard shuddered.

The next card the fortune teller indicated was the Queen of Staffs, Xena's card, lying above the Fool. "And this woman, whoever she might be," she continued, casting a wry glance at the bard, "had a lot to do with that."

Mrtva took a breath, and studied the young woman's face. "Well, it seems so far the cards spoke true." She straightened a little, and squirmed into a more comfortable position in her blankets.

"I suppose," the bard said doubtfully, "but most of these things were common knowledge anyway. You could have bent the meanings of the cards to fit that." Said more to convince herself than to show any honest skepticism.

The other woman chuckled. "Ah, but you see, that's part of the art. But, let's see what else we've got, shall we?" She waited for Gabrielle to nod before she continued, pointing, with a smirk, to the card labeled "Desire". The bard felt the blush creeping up her neck again. Mrtva's eyes widened suddenly, comprehension dawning on her face. "How long have you been in love with the Warrior Princess?"

"Me... Um... In love with her? Don't be ridiculous!" Hades' boots! This is getting too close. Either she's a very good reader of people, or... Gods, I don't think I want to know!

"As you wish," the fortune teller said with a cackle, "Well, onward. The present. Desire we've already covered. At this time, it's the predominant force in your life." Another smirk. "The Chariot signifies conflicting impulses, friction, disagreement, but also going forth bravely to do battle. Your big bad friend is not aware of your feelings, is she? And you two fight way too often, because she is so darn stubborn she just doesn't want to see?"

The bard knew she must have an extremely stupid slack-jawed look on her face, and the heat from the blush was receding way too quickly as all the color drained from her face.

Mrtva looked smug. "And I would say that the same goes for you, as well. That is just a conjecture, of course."

With a little flourish she took in the area around Gabrielle's own card. "Death, now. A very significant card."

"I bet," the bard blurted.

The fortune teller gave her a reproachful look, and paused to consider. "This is your near future. 'Death' may indicate that the Grim Lady is involved somehow. But more commonly it just marks the end of an era, or an important part of your life. It's the card of change, though it doesn't in itself say if that's good, or bad."

"So...?"

The small woman closed her eyes for effect. "Associated with Temperance. Very interesting. That symbolizes the transfer of your essence from one body to another. Those two together usually do mean a death of sorts. But with the Ghost and the Wheel here, the Nine of Cups so close, and the Moon... Something ominous is about to happen to the two of you, something you've never before experienced. It will not be pleasant, but you will both get to see things from a whole new perspective. But beware! Grief and pain are lurking just around the corner."

"And, what about the... Ghost?"

"The Ghost." Mrtva's eyes fluttered open, and trailed down the bard's face to come to rest at her throat. "A very dangerous card. Meaning infinity. The great unknown, the whims of the Fates. Nothing will turn out the way you expected. There is one more thing I can see here."

"And that is...?"

"You will not have much power over the forthcoming events. Two things may tide you through, if you are steadfast: faith, and darkness. More, I cannot say."

Gabrielle caught a flicker of movement, and suddenly found herself held tightly from behind, a dagger at her throat. "What do you think you're doing?" came Xena's low hiss, inches from the bard's ear. The warrior's hot breath brushed against Gabrielle's skin, making her cold all over.

"I could have slit both your throats, any time I wanted," the warrior said flatly, releasing a very shaken Gabrielle. "What are you trying to do, Gabrielle, get yourself killed? You should know better than to let yourself get caught up in silly games when I'm not there to keep watch."

Gabrielle, completely stunned by the rage seething so close to the surface, took back a step, stuttering, "Xena... I... I'm sorry. But you weren't... Oh Hades, don't do that!"

"You're lucky it was me," Xena growled fiercely, "and that I'm in such a mellow mood." They both ignored the barked laugh from Mrtva.

"Xena! You cut that out right now," Gabrielle flared, "I said I was sorry, and yes, we were lucky, so would you please drop it?" She softened her tone, and caught the warrior's eyes. "Please? I am sorry. Really." The warrior melted marginally at that, and some of the angry fire went out of her eyes, enough to bring a smile unbidden to Gabrielle's lips. "I promise it won't happen again."

"Ahem," Mrtva said from where she was lying, "I don't think we've met."

When the warrior glared at the fortune teller, Gabrielle saw an expression flit across Xena's face that she had never seen there before. She could not tag any emotion to it, but it was as incongruous in that noble face as a crow among cranes.

The bard made brief introductions, and when Xena had settled by the fire, Gabrielle handed her the remaining portion of the baked meat, which the warrior wolfed down without really noticing, as she always did. Xena ate because she needed to keep her body's energy level up. She never seemed to take any particular pleasure in it. It was just one of the little frustrating things about her, and Gabrielle had long ago stopped showing her disappointment at the lack of appreciation of her cooking skills.

Mrtva had some more tea - presumably with some more stinkweed mixed in - and after that, the evening grew decidedly awkward. A taciturn Xena sat mending armor that really didn't need it, and Gabrielle scribbled listlessly in one of her scrolls. Thoughts evaded her like wriggling eels, and she just could not form even one coherent sentence. The bard could almost feel that pair of green restless eyes tracking both of them, from behind piled blankets. It set her teeth on edge. Gods, Gabrielle found herself thinking, that woman is so creepy. I am beginning to think that Xena's hunch may have been right. Again. When will I ever learn to trust her instincts and not my own thick, stubborn head? I keep getting us both into trouble. She heaved a little sigh.

Her inspiration thoroughly fizzled, Gabrielle carefully stowed away her writing utensils, and curled up in her bedding, letting Xena's even and practiced movements and the fire's dance mesmerize her. Mercifully, Mrtva had finally fallen asleep, judging from the sound of regular and rather loud breathing coming from her blankets.

Their campfire crackled nicely, and golden shadows flickered along the walls of their little shelter. The air outside grew colder, and night settled like a heavy blanket over the land. The clouds being still thick and low in the sky, there were neither stars nor moon, only the promise of more rain on the morrow, and a faint eerie glow of moonlight seeping hazily through the cloudy expanse.

The warrior was completely immersed in her work, which gave Gabrielle the rare opportunity to study her closely. She knew every curve and furrow in that loved face, but she drank it all in nevertheless. Blue eyes tinged purple by the light of the flickering flames, warm dancing shadows softening the angular features, and fiery highlights chasing themselves across her dark mane. Gabrielle wanted to reach out to her, to gather her in her arms and hug and caress her until all her pain turned into tears, and then just gently kiss them away from her friend's beleaguered soul. For today, it seemed, the warrior's torment was closer than usual to the surface, and it stood - to the bard at least - plainly written in those troubled eyes.

After warring with herself for a long moment, the bard finally whispered, "Are you okay? You look... ill."

The warrior did not look up. "Yeah," she whispered back, "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

Xena did look at her at that, for a very long time, without speaking. "It's nothing, really. Get some sleep. Been a long day."

Yeah, right, Gabrielle answered her silently, As if there was any chance of me going to sleep with you so obviously out of it.

She did drift off soon after, exhausted, and when all that could be heard was the soft crackle and pop of the fire, and the impossibly loud sounds of Mrtva's breathing, a tall dark shape rose silently to her feet, and crept like a feline shadow from the camp.

*****

Gabrielle woke up to a fire that had burned low, and Mrtva's loud but regular breathing, with Xena gone. Without hesitation, she set out in search of her friend, although well aware that right now, the warrior might be very touchy about her privacy.

The bard made her way slowly and stealthily through the drenched meadow, heading for a little stand of trees she had noticed earlier. It was just a hunch, but she had a feeling she would find her friend there. Every time the silent warrior had some trouble or other to cope with, she would slip out after dark to find a strong tree trunk to lean back against, and just sit and mechanically sharpen her sword. After that, she would start doing sword drills to wear herself out, never pausing until dawn broke, when she would quietly slip back into camp. Times like these would have the bard up all night as well, sick with worry, heart aching for every trouble that plagued her friend. And with a tormented soul like Xena's, such times were fairly frequent.

The young woman stepped very quietly and hardly made any noise at all, though the soaked ground threatened to squish and slurp with every step. The bard marveled fleetingly that this mode of walking had become almost second nature to her. She smiled silently to herself remembering Xena's rolled eyes and exasperated sighs whenever Gabrielle had tried and failed to move with any less noise than a stampeding bull.

She could see well enough by the diffuse moonlight shining faintly through the cloudy darkness. The tangy smell of wet grass filled her nostrils, and a chilly breeze tugged at her clothes. She shivered and pulled the blanket she had grabbed for a cloak closer about her body.

And then Gabrielle saw the warrior, almost as she had expected, sitting against the base of a broad oak, shoulders shaking silently. Weeping??? Oh gods! Why doesn't she ever let on when she hurts so bad? Gabrielle paused, considering. It will never do for me to find her like this, or she'll have my hide. I've got to at least give her a chance to collect herself.

Which she did, retreating carefully, and approaching again, this time letting herself make a little more noise, stepping on a twig here, or failing to dodge a squishy puddle there. She was rewarded by a slight tensing of her friend's shape as she came close, the familiar cocking of the dark-haired head to listen, and the slow relaxation of the warrior's broad shoulders when she realized who was coming. A surreptitious wiping of her eyes, a minute shaking of her head, and Xena was composed.

Gabrielle approached her slowly, suddenly feeling very nervous. She crouched down close to the warrior, who sat silent as a rock, staring straight ahead. The bard took a moment to sort through her thoughts, and said softly, "You wanna talk about it?"

No answer, apart from a slight twitch of the other woman's jaw muscle.

"Come on, Xena, I know you're not the rock you'd like me to think you are. There's something bothering you big time, and I want to help you, if I can." Wrong thing to say, probably. That is, if she's listening at all.

Xena gave no sign of having heard.

"Seems you've made friends with her," the dark-haired woman said after a while in a flat voice. "That was an interesting bit of fortune telling she gave you."

Gods! I never thought... Of course she'd been watching us before she jumped me. I wonder how much she overheard... Hades kiss me! And if I didn't know any better, I'd say Xena's jealous...nah, probably not. But what in the Nine Hells is bugging her? "Oh, I'll grant you she's a little creepy, but that was really... informative." Gabrielle answered blithely. The bard tried frantically to remember the exact words Mrtva had said about her being in love with Xena, and what she had replied. Oh, Zeus, she might have taken that all wrong, what I said to Mrtva. But I couldn't very well tell that stranger my feelings, could I? Maybe I should ask her. But if she hasn't heard anything, things could get... difficult. "Look, I know you don't like her, and to be honest, she's not really a likeable person to me, either. But she's hurt, and the least we should do is offer her protection until she is well."

"Which we aren't exactly providing her at the moment," was the warrior's toneless reply.

"I know," the bard whispered. "I suppose that takes care of the question of where my priorities are, doesn't it?"

Gabrielle could almost see the knots of tension in the warrior's neck and shoulders, and her own stomach cramped up in sympathy. On impulse, she got to her knees, slipped her hands behind the silent warrior, and started gently kneading the tortured muscles. Felt Xena's sharp intake of breath, the stiffening and obvious internal struggle, then the warrior's head slumped wearily as she reluctantly succumbed to the treatment. Gabrielle's strong fingers deftly found all the knots and cramps and she soon had her friend groaning pleasurably as her hands relieved the last residues of tension. But even when the warrior felt completely relaxed under her hands, the bard could not bring herself to stop right away. She continued to trace the outline of those powerful slabs of muscle, marveled at their latent power and firm resilience. Her face close to the warrior's neck, she felt sorely tempted to ease her massages into caresses, to gently kiss that neck... She almost had to physically slap herself to snap out of it. Rather hastily, she removed her hands, and resumed her place crouching beside her friend.

"Thanks," Xena said huskily, "that... felt good."

"Yeah, well, all in a day's work, isn't it?" Gabrielle replied with a fair imitation of the Warrior Princess' crooked half-grin. To her great satisfaction, that drew a throaty chuckle from her companion. "But one of us really should get back to the camp," the bard added ruefully, and got to her feet. Xena did not move, but her eyes followed the smaller woman's movement.

"See you back there," she just said.

The bard nodded, understanding. "Xena?"

"Hmm?"

"Get some sleep. Please?" A long look passed between them that gradually gathered warmth. At last, the warrior smiled.

"I will. Promise."

*****

As soon as the pathetic little bard was out of earshot, the ridiculously loud breathing stopped dead, and a pair of luminous eyes flickered open. The one who called herself Mrtva rose easily, slunk to the dying fire, reached with her bare hand and grabbed a fistful of burning coals, which she deliberately pressed against the already receding burn marks on her skin. She continued the procedure until all of her wounds showed the ugly red blisters that those silly women would expect to see there. The pain was exquisite, and sent ripples of pleasure through her. That done, she carefully removed the dressing on her belly wound, forced her fingers into the rapidly closing gash and pried, an ecstatic moan escaping her, until the cut showed deeply again and green pus oozed out once more. After a quick appraisal of her work, she reapplied the dressing, careful to place it exactly the way it had been before.

Head cocked, she listened intently into the night. The warrior's sobbing, half a mile away, had stopped a while ago, and Gabrielle was now speaking to her in a hushed voice. Even the being's phenomenal hearing did not yield the bard's words, though.

They were an interesting pair, those two. She had practically no power over the little redhead, but the dark wolfish brute was another matter. That one was like jelly in her hands. And the bitch knew it, too, or at least suspected it, by the look of sheer terror, albeit well-disguised, that crossed the warrior's face whenever their eyes met. The one who called herself Mrtva had considered disposing of the bard, but the idea of using the young woman to strengthen her hold on the Warrior Princess held a sadistic appeal. She looked forward to playing with them for a little while.

The Tarot reading had been a shock, though. Never before had the cards yielded such truth about her own evil existence. The being had had to disguise her own role in the spread with very careful phrasing. For the power of the Tarot was such that it did not allow you to deliberately tell untruly. If the little slut had had more knowledge of the deck, Mrtva might have been in trouble. But that was impossible, of course. Because that Tarot was the only one in existence at this time. And it was hers, now. She cackled gleefully.

Pale eyes in a paler face lifted to look at the overcast sky. To her vision, the moon's luminous disk stood brightly in the black velvet of the night, unobscured by the misty expanse of clouds. A full moon. The night she had been waiting for. She sniffed the air, sifting through the myriad different smells of the night, until the one she sought found her nostrils.

The one who called herself Mrtva stole silently away into the night. She must hurry, and be back before the women returned. Not a whisper betrayed her passage.

Chapter III : "Witch"

She was running along in blind terror through an endless narrow gorge. Walls extended upward to her left and right with not a glimpse of sky overhead. Brambles, thorns, and other things, slimy, and seemingly possessed with a life of their own, snared her legs and arms, and she had fallen repeatedly, only to scramble back up and resume her frenzied flight. Her foot caught again, and she fell headlong into the undergrowth, thorns reaching out to tear her skin and trap her clothing. Too exhausted to get to her feet, she scooted forward on all fours, with her unseen pursuer gaining ground fast.

Fatigue laid constricting chains around her chest and made her breath come in ragged, wheezing sobs and her heart thump painfully in her throat. The rushing blood in her ears could not drown the sounds of the thing following her, the rustle and snap of vegetation, the heavy aggressive footfalls and the rasp of hot labored breathing blasting her neck.

With a strangled scream, she drew on her last reserves, and by sheer, fear-inspired willpower pushed herself back to her feet, and once again broke into a stumbling run.

"You know you can't run forever," the terribly familiar voice behind her hissed, "you are going to have to face me sooner or later."

Gabrielle fell down, too tired to move any further and past caring. She rolled onto her back to face her tormentor... and found herself looking straight into a pair of piercing blue eyes and a loved face distorted almost beyond recognition by hatred.

The bard jerked awake, the memory of the nightmare still clinging firmly to her consciousness. Gabrielle closed her eyes and willed her labored breathing to slow, her heartbeat to calm. She was in her blankets, it was morning, and she was safe. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Outside their three-sided, roofed shelter, the weather had turned beastly. A thin, steady drizzle had started up shortly before dawn, and gusts of wind rattled the rickety walls of the little structure, blowing sprays of moist, chill air through the ample gaps between the rotting planks. A kettle of boiling water was dancing merrily over a freshly built fire. Xena must have been up and about for a while, silent as a shadow, putting the water to boil, then probably going to fuss over Argo for a while.

The little wooden building was way too small to accommodate all three humans plus the horse's bulk, and so the golden mare was tethered on the leeward side of the shelter, where she was reasonably snug, if not exactly dry.

There was no trace of the warrior now. Most likely she had gone off on her habitual morning prowl.

The residual terror from the dream was slowly receding, when three skinned and gutted rabbits flew past her to land neatly by the fire. Xena crouched down by the bard's side, caught and held her gaze.

"I heard you whimper," she said in a low, quiet voice. "Bad dream?"

Gabrielle nodded mutely, shuddering with the memory.

"Sorry I wasn't there."

"You are now," the bard whispered back. "And I'm glad."

The warrior smiled and gave her hand a quick squeeze, before she reluctantly went to check on their patient.

Mrtva. Gabrielle's eyes followed her friend to the litter where the injured woman was bedded. That fortune teller was a strange woman. Was she truly a witch? She seemed companionable enough normally, but something about her was... weird. Creepy. From there, it was not a far stretch to condemn her for the use of black magic. But other than carrying a herbalist's equipment, and that Tarot thing she used for fortune telling, there really was nothing about her that would merit such an accusation. And in her present condition, she couldn't be much of a threat anyway.

In the bard's eyes it was not excusable to judge people unfairly just because they were different, and she realized with some chagrin that she was about to do just that to Mrtva. But she would not allow herself to go against her beliefs!

Xena had no such reservations. She held a deep aversion for the fortune teller, without even having talked to the woman, aside from the barest minimum when the warrior was dressing Mrtva's wounds. Sometimes it seemed it was all the dark-haired woman could do not to flinch whenever she had to make skin contact. And by that sparkle in the injured woman's eyes, she was aware of it, and secretly amused.

From the moment they rose, the one who called herself Mrtva eagerly awaited the brief times during the day when the two women left her to herself. It gave her the time to renew her wounds that were, of course, healing far too rapidly to be considered natural. She welcomed the pain at reopening them. After all, that was one of the few sensations she was able to experience at all.

During the night, she had to do this soundlessly - that big brute's sense of hearing would have done a wolf credit - which meant she had to rein in her ecstatic cries at the exquisite torture, and that was... frustrating, to say the least. It was a welcome change to be able to let herself go a bit, when they were both out of earshot.

In the three days they had been staying here, the warrior would leave very early on her morning round, then return for a quick breakfast, and after that she was off to that village, to continue her work of burying the dead. She never let the silly bard come along to help, for some reason or other.

But the little piece of dung always found some pretext to go haring off after her big beloved warrior. It was so pathetic! There might be some return feeling from the Warrior Princess, and there might not. Mrtva's twisted unearthly perceptions were quite insensitive to that kind of emotion. But that other part of the tall brute's soul she understood well enough. It was so gleefully dark and tormented it gave her pleasant little shivers just to think about it.

But the blue-eyed hussy was strong. Most others would be dead or hopelessly insane after being under Mrtva's influence for half as long as she had been. But this one was... quite nourishing. It would be interesting to see how long the warrior would hold out. Oh, she would blow the lid eventually. They all did. Until that happened, the one who called herself Mrtva could wait. And while it lasted, she would gladly play the part of the more or less harmless fortune teller recovering from her serious injuries. She would even humor the nosy little brat and teach her some of her treasured Tarot.

Once, the night before last, she had forgotten to keep up that breathing thing, and got them both in quite a stir thinking she was dying. She chuckled bitterly at the irony, drawing a suspicious glance from the warrior who was inspecting her burns. To die... To live... Oh, how she envied them for that!

The bard finally rose, stretched laboriously and went to the fire. She hugged herself against the moist chill of the morning, and blew out little cloud of moisture with every breath. Extending her hands towards the fire, a look of relieved comfort crossed her face. The one who called herself Mrtva wondered what it would be like to feel warm, or cold - she did not remember.

Having pulled on a thick woolen tunic, the bard set about preparing breakfast - rabbit stew, or some such, Mrtva surmised. Not that it made any difference to her. She ate because they would expect her to. The fortune teller's attention went back to the warrior carefully removing the dressing on that belly wound. She let herself look the big woman fully in the eye, and could quite literally feel the fear eating away at that brave warrior's heart. She almost chuckled again. It was delicious.

As the warrior placed a fresh bandage on the gash in Mrtva's abdomen, the fortune teller covered the other woman's long-fingered, strong hand with her own. She felt her go stiff all over, but by sheer willpower refrain from pulling away. Glacier blue eyes locked with her own. Stubborn. But scared silly. Scrumptious. Mrtva put a sweet smile on her face, and said softly, "I really appreciate what you're doing for me. Both of you. Thanks."

The big woman shrugged. "Yeah. Just wish you'd lay off the prowling 'round at night. Doesn't help your condition any."

It was Mrtva's turn to stiffen, but she hid it with a little cough. Was the warrior watching for a reaction? She couldn't be sure. It seemed she had underestimated the brute after all. "You... heard me?"

"No." The warrior shook her head, a puzzled frown on her face. Found your tracks, though." She gave Mrtva a hard look. "I'm trying to heal you, not bury you with that lot over there." With that, she turned away from her and stalked to where the redhead was crouching by the fire. It took a conscious effort not to hiss and spit at the back of the dark-haired head.

At last, Xena threw the final shovel full of dirt over the last of the graves she'd dug. The warrior straightened, knuckling the small of her back. This was not a work she was accustomed to, and two days of digging into wet, heavy earth in that bent over position had left the muscles in her back and shoulders cramped and stiff.

She chided herself for perhaps going a little too easy on her daily drills, and wondered briefly whether Gabrielle would be ready to give her another of those divine massages. Although the true question was, could she, the hard-as-nails gruff warrior, bring herself to request one? She smiled bitterly at herself. Of course I won't ask. As usual, I'm going to expect her to know, and be annoyed when she doesn't. Hades kiss my boots, but it's true!

She pushed her unruly black mane out of her face, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand, finding a dampness there that was more from the humid chill of the early autumn air than from perspiration. A gusty breeze whipped back her matted hair, and she fleetingly regretted not having thought of bringing along a cloak.

The work had done her good. Strenuous physical exercise always put her in a sort of meditative trance that helped her sort out any tangled emotions, or better, shove them way down into some dark cobwebbed corner of her mind.

But even more important, her grim task of burying those charred and twisted bodies had given her an honorable excuse for not having to be close to... that woman. And being away from her helped lift the constricting blanket of fear she felt descending on her heart whenever she had to meet those terrible glacier blue eyes.

Mrtva hated her, she was sure of it. But that alone could not account for Xena's violent reaction to the fortune teller. The Warrior Princess still had to cope with so much hate and prejudice that one instance more or less hardly made a difference. But there was more in that woman's cold gaze, some expression she could only define as hunger, though there was a quality to it that just made her shudder and want to close her eyes.

Watching goose bumps form on her bare arms as another breeze licked at her damp skin, she once again thought wistfully about a cloak. Would you look at me? I'm getting to be such a softie. Well, better do some sword drills. Keep me warm and get me back in shape. Besides, I won't have to go back to the camp just yet.

She was just about to draw her sword, when the breeze carried a faint sound to her ears. She cocked her head and held her breath, listening into the wind. Then a slow, proud smile spread on her face. Not many people could get this close to her without being noticed. The noisy, sometimes clumsy bard from not so long ago was becoming quite proficient at moving silently. And she even did it without giving it much thought, now. Xena relaxed her stance, and waited.

Moments later, the bard's shape came into view, wrapped in a light woolen cloak. Red blonde hair stood out in striking contrast from the gray color of the fabric, and the dreary overcast sky. It had stopped raining for now, but the heavy clouds clearly spoke of more to come. The warrior awaited her with a lazy smile, leaning casually on the shovel she had been using.

The young woman carried a bundle tucked under one arm, and her other hand held her cloak together at the neck against the chill. When she caught sight of the warrior, she released her hold on the garment, and waved a slender, creamy arm in greeting.

"Hey," the bard said when they were face to face, her cheeks flushed rosy from the crisp air. With a familiar gesture, she brushed a strand of damp hair out of her face, and looked up at the taller woman.

"Hey," came Xena's drawled reply, "got bored again over there?"

For an answer, Gabrielle just smiled at her, a smile that brightened her mist green eyes with a gentle light. "I thought you might want this." The bard tossed her the cloak she had brought, which Xena caught and with a graceful movement slung around her shoulders.

"Thanks," the warrior said, with a quirky smile.

"And I brought some food, too." She handed Xena a packet. "Just what's left of those rabbits, I'm afraid. We need to stock up our supplies soon, 'cause I certainly don't want to have to live on nothing but smoked mutton for the next week." Her green eyes twinkled as she flashed the warrior a teasing grin. "Yeah, I know, it's all the same to you. If you had to live on old boots, it wouldn't matter, would it?"

"But I only eat my boots with lots of salt on them," the warrior said solemnly as she unwrapped the package and removed several pieces of roasted meat. She looked at the food, then at Gabrielle, one dark eyebrow curving up. "Where's yours?"

The bard shrugged lightly. "I had some back at the camp."

"Let's see, that must have been... at least ten minutes ago." A sudden spark of mischief lit the warrior's blue eyes. "By the gods, Gabrielle, you must be starving! Here have some of mine."

Gabrielle shot her a dark glare, but she accepted the choice piece Xena offered her without comment. They both sat down side by side on a large overturned crate, and munched on their food in companionable silence. When the warrior glanced at the blonde woman, Gabrielle's green eyes had misted over in distant concentration.

"Dinar for your thoughts," Xena said after a while, nudging the bard lightly with an elbow.

Gabrielle chuckled softly as she gave their long-standing response. "Better spend it on something useful." After a little hesitation she turned and faced her friend. "I was thinking about... our guest. She's such a queer one."

The warrior snorted. "You two seem to get along well enough. She been teaching you those cards again?"

"Yup," the bard said, giving the warrior a considering look, "and I don't care how weird she is, that Tarot thing she's got is really fascinating. She let me do my first reading today". She blushed a little.

"Oh?" An eyebrow arched in mild interest.

"Yeah. Well, there were only six cards to read, sort of arranged in a cross-shape. But the result was... interesting." Gabrielle looked at her out of the corner of her eye, and blushed some more, a bashful grin etching her lips. Xena found herself wondering in spite of herself what might have been on those cards. But she didn't ask.

Instead, she regarded the bard seriously. "Please, be careful around her. I don't trust her." And I feel like a damned coward for leaving you alone with her all that time. But...

"I know," the bard agreed, "She can be real creepy, sometimes. And there are some things that just don't add up in this whole business."

"You noticed." Xena's lips quirked wryly.

"From time to time, I do have my eyes open," the bard bristled. Meeting Xena's flat stare, she softened with a visible effort. "I mean, Xena she should have died in that fire. Now, I know this sounds really silly, but I think she did. I can't see how she could have lived." She gave Xena a meaningful look. "It can happen, we both know that." She waited for the implications of that to sink in. "You mentioned yesterday that her wounds heal funny."

"Yeah," the warrior agreed thoughtfully, "they seemed worse yesterday than they were the night before, and the belly wound looked different, too..."

Gabrielle nodded. "You say she shouldn't be able to even stand up straight in her condition, yet the tracks you found say she's been up and about during the last two nights. So how's she doing that, and why? And you didn't even hear her, did you?"

The taller woman looked mystified as she shook her head in confirmation, and a little chagrined.

"Have you noticed how intense she gets when you look into her eyes?" the bard continued, "I know, that's probably just a silly fancy of mine. You always say I have a way too vivid imagination. But those green eyes look like they could bore right into your soul."

The warrior frowned. "Gabrielle, I've always thought you a fair judge of color. But that woman has blue eyes."

"What are you talking about? They're green, like mine. As a matter of fact, I remember thinking what a coincidence it is that her hair and eyes are colored like mine."

"Colored like...? Gimme a break, Gabrielle! Her hair is almost as black as mine. And her eyes are blue."

Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest, and closed it again when she saw Xena staring at her. It was obvious they were both coming to a similar conclusion.

"We're really both reasonably sensible people, right?" the bard asked slowly.

"I should hope so, yes."

"And she has black hair and blue eyes when you look at her, but fair hair and green eyes when I do."

The warrior just nodded, and furrowed her brow.

"What is she, Xena?" Gabrielle’s voice was a frightful whisper.

Xena lapsed into a pensive silence. With Mrtva far enough away and her mind reasonably clear from the physical exertion, the events of the past few day took on a new clarity. She suddenly had a feeling they had gotten themselves into much deeper water than they had anticipated. She did not like it at all. "Well, either we're both losing it, or there's some sort of magic involved, or worse, a god. Either way, I want no part of it!"

Gabrielle let her head drop into her hands. "Too late for that now." She paused. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"It was my stupid, stubborn head that got us into whatever it is we've gotten ourselves into this time. I should have listened to you."

"Gabrielle," the warrior said seriously, "if what happened here is any indication, and I will eat my boots if she doesn't have anything to do with it, then we'd better assume she could be a very dangerous woman - especially with what we've just discovered about her. Until we know more, it may be just as well that we have her in our... care. That way, she can't cause any serious trouble... And you're not stupid, Gabrielle. Stubborn, yes. But I'm not going to blame you for trying to follow your heart, you hear me?" It's what brought us together, after all, Xena finished silently.

"Thanks," came Gabrielle's quiet reply. Green eyes locked with blue for a timeless moment. The bard started to raise her hand, but let it drop again.

"I can't pretend I understand what's going on inside you right now," the young woman said slowly, pulling her gaze away to the half-forgotten bone she was twiddling in her fingers, "but all this is doing terrible things to you, and I'm beginning to hate myself for it."

Xena gently hooked a finger under the bard's chin and tilted the blonde head up until Gabrielle had to look at her.

"Don't," the warrior rasped, "It's not your fault, okay?" When she received no answer, she repeated more insistently, "okay?"

Gabrielle drew a deep, long breath, and released it. "Okay. But..."

A raised hand silenced her. "I know. I'm having a little… difficult time right now. But I'm sure I'll be fine."

The bard made no reply, just gave her a long, sad look from large, liquid eyes.

Oh, crumbs, there goes that puppy-look again, Xena thought helplessly. Well, I know I'm going to regret this, but...

"Okay, okay, I'm having a terrible time," the warrior said in a rough tone. "In fact, I'd rather spend a week in Tartarus than have to look at her for one moment." The next was a strangled whisper. "She scares me something awful, Gabrielle. I don't know why, and I don't know how to fight it. Gods, I can't believe I'm leaving you alone with her every day. I should be... Oh, Hades!" An eyebrow arched. "She doesn't seem to have that effect on you, though."

The bard said slowly, "the nightmare I had this morning... it was different. I mean, it wasn't about... you know." She shuddered a little. "I think whatever you're talking about is affecting me, too, though I can't say she actually terrifies me." She leveled a questioning glance at the warrior, who sat gazing into the distance.

"I don't understand it." A touch of frustration tinged Xena's voice. "I'm not usually prone to irrational behavior." Her face twitched wryly.

Gabrielle snorted a mirthless laugh. "Not really, no," she agreed. "So, what are we going to do with her?"

"I have no idea," the warrior admitted, "I would like to get to the bottom of this, but I don't know how." Uh oh, wrong thing to say, Xena, she told herself. Wrong thing to say to somebody who always looks to you for miraculous solutions. She watched consternation battle with fierce concentration on the younger woman's face as she pondered their situation. Oh, bard, do you have any idea how much that costs me, trying to live up to what you see in me? "Any suggestions?"

Gabrielle absently rubbed her nose with her index finger. "Maybe we could take her to a temple. There might be some priest who will know what to do. Or we could, like, as long as we're there, I mean, sort of ask... well, someone higher up. I know how you feel about that, but..." She broke off, not looking at her companion.

"You're right," Xena said, "I don't trust them. I would have to be pretty darn desperate to try asking a god." She grinned suddenly. "But, given that, it would be an option. It really wouldn't hurt to find out who - or what - we're dealing with here. So!" with a deep breath, the tall woman resolutely squared her shoulders. "Are we about ready to go back to our camp? Because, I'm glad to say, my work here is done."

"Goody," the young bard said gratefully, "that means we finally get to move on out of this terrible place!"

As the two women started to make their way back towards her, the one who called herself Mrtva stealthily slipped back into her covers, this time careful not to leave any tracks. She was still angry with herself for that stupid oversight. Well, it certainly would not happen again.

"You're too ssharp, Warrior Princssess." Pale eyes suddenly took on a red glow from deep within that pulsed once, twice, and was gone. "Sso, you think I could be dangerouss, do you," she cackled softly. Her voice was higher now, and the lisp more pronounced. "Oh yess, we'll ssee."

Mrtva lay on the litter with her eyes closed as the two women reached the little shelter. Her chest was heaving in those exaggerated, forced movements they had gotten used to, accompanied by the loud rush of air through her nose and half-open mouth. Gabrielle wondered if the woman might have suffered from lung fever or some such in the past, to account for her obvious breathing problem.

In any case, Gabrielle had grown utterly tired of that sound while listening to it for the last two nights, when she had lain in her blankets and sleep just wouldn't come. It had even followed her into troubled dreams, driving her nearly insane with frustration.

She humbly thanked whichever god was responsible that her tall traveling companion never did that, or snored, or anything like that.

The bard's gaze followed her friend, who went to check on Argo. Since it was by now late afternoon and the light rain had started up again, they had decided to spend one more night here. The companions planned to set out in the morning for the nearest temple, which happened to be dedicated to Nyx, Lady of the Night, and was situated halfway up the sheer face of a mountain by a lakeshore, two days east. Not a major Goddess, but formidable enough. Xena had told her there were a handful of fairly powerful priests among the Lady's followers. It would do.

Gabrielle flopped down by the fire and watched Xena as the warrior fussed a little with the golden horse's mane before filling the feedbag and tying it around the mare's head.

The bard was worried. In all the time they had traveled together, the stoic warrior had always been rock solid in her courage and integrity. Those vivid blue eyes hid an intelligent and resourceful mind that had saved both their hides on more occasions than Gabrielle cared to remember. Now, she seemed... unstable. Never before had Xena admitted to fear, or being clueless, not to mention the fact that the dark woman's moods were jumping from one extreme to the other almost before the bard had any chance to adjust.

A sudden whoosh of hot air made her turn around. There behind her stood a glimmering frame opening into a haze of colorful swirls, through which the campfire and the hut's wall beyond could be seen in a faintly unreal and fuzzy way. Around its outline was a writhing mass of vines, and grotesque disembodied eyeballs stared coldly at her. The whole thing seemed to be alive in a horrible, nightmarish fashion.

Before she could utter a sound, a damp piece of linen was pressed to her mouth and nose while a strong, wiry arm wrapped around her from behind. Biting fumes shot up the bard's nose and slammed into the inside of her head with sharp intensity. Immediately spots began dancing in front of her eyes, and she felt herself being shoved towards the strange manifestation. As Gabrielle sank into unconsciousness, she thought she heard Xena yell her name, and there was the familiar shrill whine of the chakram, which broke off suddenly as another hot blast of air cut her off from the waking world.

Chapter IV: Journeys

Hearing a muffled sound as of air rushing through a narrow opening, Xena turned from her task of feeding Argo, in time to see some sort of magic portal ripple in the midst of the wooden structure. The shimmering entryway was framed by a mass of wriggling vines, various animal parts that twitched and trembled, and large round things that she recognized as staring eyeballs. Bathed in the back light of the swirling, translucent colored mists that moved lazily inside the gruesome framework stood Mrtva, with a rapturous, evil grin on her face. She showed no trace of weakness or injury as she firmly held on to a weakly struggling Gabrielle while pressing something to the bard's face.

"Gabrielle!" Hardly giving it conscious thought, the warrior grabbed her chakram and flung it in a powerful motion straight at the fortune teller's head. At that instant, however, the woman ducked into the portal with a shrill cackle, taking with her a bard rapidly fading from consciousness. The portal snapped closed with a fuzzy swishing sound, and the chakram whistled through empty air, burying itself into the far wall with a thud.

The crackle and snap of the campfire sounded impossibly loud in the warrior's ears as she mechanically made her way into the shelter to retrieve the circular weapon. Gone! Just like that. Gabrielle... Zeus strike me down, but this is my fault. I should have... Without hope of success, she knelt by the fire where the portal had opened to look for any clues. But apart from the shuffled dust at her feet, there was nothing.

She let herself drop into a sitting position and buried her face in her hands, breathing slowly, deliberately. Focus. You can't help her if you go and feel sorry for yourself. Pull yourself together, you big lump!

The warrior knew she had grown more than attached to the little bard. What she wasn't prepared for was the feeling of utter despair, like a mountain dropping down on her, at the realization that she might lose her, truly and irrevocably. She had been convinced that she had been able to retain a shred of self-control, and keep her at arm's length.

The ex-warlord was used to being in control of things. This... unsettled her.

Xena rose crisply and went to extinguish the fire. There were a few hours of daylight left. Better to spend them on the road - anywhere but here.

Frustration and despair were slowly replaced by a seething anger at her inability to act as she methodically stowed their belongings in Argo's numerous saddlebags. Clatter! The cooking gear landed in a heap by the blankets. She wasn't a thinker - she was a doer. Slam! The furs from Mrtva's litter joined them. Oh, she was creative enough when it came to laying out battle strategies, the choosing of ground, the placing of troops, or simply her choice of weapons when it came to hand-to-hand combat. Such things were second nature to her. But what could she do when there was no ground to choose, and her enemy had just disappeared to Hades only knew where? Her movements were curt and violent as she tied their bedrolls.

When she had cleared all traces of their camp, she went to Argo and removed the feedbag from the horse's nose. The mare flicked an ear at her and nickered.

Xena stroked the velvety muzzle. "Sorry, girl, but we've got work to do." For a moment, she allowed herself to let go, and buried her face in Argo's mane. Both hands grabbed fistfuls of the coarse hair as she relished the soft warmth of the silky coat against her cheek. Xena closed her eyes and drank in the comforting smell of horsehair and grain.

"Oh, Argo, whatever am I going to do?"

For an answer, the golden horse rolled her neck and brought her nose down to nip the warrior playfully in the thigh.

"Cut that out, you big oaf!" Laughing weakly, she cuffed the mare's cheek, and gave her an amusedly reproachful look, which Argo blissfully ignored.

As she spread the horse blanket across the war-horse's back before easing the saddle on top, her thoughts wandered again to Gabrielle. She was sure the imaginative bard would have thought of something to do by now. Fancy thinking and non-violent tactics were Gabrielle's specialty, not Xena's. Right now, the warrior longed to fight something, something tangible, something she could hurt. That was a thing she understood, and trusted. Magical portals and people vanishing into thin air were not. It took a real effort not to start tearing down the shed with her bare hands, just because it stood there.

It was only when Argo grunted in protest that she realized how tightly she was pulling the girth around the horse's belly.

As dusk set in, they were well on the road, the warrior traveling beside Argo on the muddy path. A gray cloak - Gabrielle's - wrapped about her kept the rain and chill out. From time to time, she would bury her face in the coarse fabric and just breathe in the bard's scent. She was wearing that cloak because it protected better against the wet and cold than her own. That was the reason. Of course.

She still did not know exactly what it was she was going to do. But being on the move - doing something - helped to work off some of her anger, and clear her head a little. She was jogging along at a brisk trot and was actually making very good time on the still soggy ground. Argo was plodding along beside her, ears drooping as the flaps on the saddle beat a steady, dull counterpoint to the rhythm of the horse's gait.

Nightfall found the warrior several leagues gone, overlooking the walled village of Ambracia on the bank of the same river they had crossed a few days ago. Briefly, she considered traveling the night through and chuckled softly at Gabrielle's imagined response. She pictured the shorter woman drawing herself up to her full height, green eyes giving her that flat, hard-eyed stare she was becoming quite good at. And Gabrielle would tell her in a no-nonsense voice to cut out the tough warlord act, and that, despite her protestations to the contrary, Xena was still human, and needed sleep.

And you're right, of course, my mother-hen friend. I will rest. And I promise you I'll find you. If I have to move a mountain with my bare hands to do it, it won't be too much trouble.

Reluctant to enter the town, she scanned the area for a suitable campsite before finally deciding on a dell sheltered by a few trees and a sparse growth of brush. Not bothering to light a fire, the warrior relieved Argo of saddle and bridle before turning her loose to graze, then unrolled her blankets and lay down, lacing her hands behind her head and gazing and the dreary sky.

Everything was fuzzy. Whatever had been on that piece of cloth stung like Hades behind her eyes, making it difficult for the bard to focus either her thoughts or her senses. The only distinct thought she was able to form was that Mrtva was so much stronger than she looked. The small woman had a stringy arm wrapped about the bard's waist like a vice, carrying her effortlessly at a dizzying pace. There were times when their surroundings fairly seemed to whiz by.

Gabrielle had no idea for how long she had been drifting on the edge of consciousness with the fortune teller dragging her along tirelessly, but it felt like forever. She remembered dimly dreaming of Xena the Warlord and of feeling very cold and stiff though the air around her was warm and humid. She shuddered a little, the involuntary motion sending another painful jab to her brain. A soft groan escaped her.

"Sstop whining, ssilly sstrumpet," came Mrtva's harsh hiss. Iron-like fingers on the arm that was holding her dug into her skin until Gabrielle felt they must be gouging out chunks of her flesh. She caught a vague impression of colorful sandstone formations all around her, sparkling in most incredible hues of cream, red and yellow. Tall slender spires, some in the shape of graceful people standing together and talking; others bridged by delicate natural arches. It was beautiful, and also quite unreal.

All of a sudden, there was in front of them that same shimmering doorway that she had seen back at their camp. The bard had not seen it form, nor did she have any idea if perhaps it had already been standing there. This time, she was lucid enough to feel the wrench as Mrtva shoved her through, like a shift in reality. Nauseous and suddenly dizzy again, Gabrielle sank back into oblivion.

The angry throbbing in her head finally woke her. Gabrielle was on her side, her hands bound tightly behind her back, shoulder muscles aching with the strain of the unaccustomed position. She could feel cold stone beneath her with sharp loose pebbles digging into her side. As she tried to shift, she found that her feet were tied as well, and fastened with a rope on the ties that bound her hands.

Looking around her, she saw the sandstone walls of a cavern, with a tunnel entrance to her left, from where some faint rays of light careened of the walls and made for a dim illumination. Another tunnel ran on down further into the mountain, visible as a dark patch on the back wall.

It seemed she was alone for the moment. The ceiling was high and bristled with stalactites, their counterparts standing proudly on the ground all around her, glistening with moisture. In some places, slender pillars had formed from them, and there was also the trickle of a small underground stream.

It was really quite beautiful, as the weak light from the cave entrance magnified caused droplets of water to sparkle like diamonds on the impressive formations. She could barely make out the colorful hues of the walls around the mouth of the tunnel - ranging from bright white over yellow to a very dark red.

But it was also decidedly uncomfortable, being in her position. She was wedged between two looming stalagmites, their twins above poised ominously over her head. Water was seeping from the face of the rock into her clothes and her head was still hurting like the Nine Hells. Mercifully, though, the strange fuzzy feeling had receded. Little fissures in her dry and cracked lips made licking them painful. And she was parched. She managed a croaked chuckle at the irony of being surrounded by water but unable to drink. The sound ricocheted off the spacious walls and made an eerie hollow echo all around her.

Great. Just great. Gabrielle, what have you gone and gotten yourself into this time? Always griping about Xena treating you like a child, and the minute her back is turned, you let a frail little woman just... whisk you away. Oh, Gods, whatever am I going to do? And where has that... monster got to? I'm sure she didn't haul me all this way to wherever this is just to dump me here and forget all about me. She quirked her lips wryly. I'd really rather she had.

The bard wriggled a little to bring her bound hands against a sharp protrusion in the rock, and started scraping the rope across it. She succeeded in dislodging a fair portion of the brittle and rather soft rock, but the rope that bound her was barely even scratched. Downhearted, she let her head sink onto the hard cold surface.

She was sure Xena would have thought of something by now. The warrior was always so inventive! Surely, she would have had no trouble getting out of this fix. Oh what I wouldn't give to have her here right now, and have those blue eyes look at me in that reassuring way she has.... I wonder what she's doing... Probably glad to be finally rid of the little pest... She scowled at herself. Cut it out, you silly goose, you know that's not true! You do, don't you? She needs you just as much as you need her. Gabrielle shook her head angrily. Of course she had faith that the warrior would do all that was humanly possible, and more if that was what it took, to find her. The thought made her feel a little better.

But she still had no idea where she was.

At a sound from the cavern's entrance, she tensed. Mrtva was coming, it seemed. Perhaps now, the bard would get some answers.

Xena knew it was a dream right away, but it had a strange touch of reality to it. She sat her horse on a hillock overlooking the battlefield, the wind caressing her face and whipping her dark tresses. Her mount was restive, upset by the battle noises and the sharp, coppery smell of fresh blood. The roan stallion stood pawing the ground and tossing his head irritably.

Without giving it thought, the Warrior Princess laid a calming hand on the animal's arched neck, her body unconsciously compensating the horse's nervous prancing. Her steel blue eyes never left the scene below.

"Those men are yours completely," her second on his dappled mare said quietly, "They would willingly give their lives for you, lord."

"I know, Roderic," the warlord said absently, "it's what I expect of them." She turned her head briefly to look at the man. "And it's the reason why I'm winning my battles."

The curly-haired man ducked his head in acknowledgement.

"Draco will have to pull his troops back soon," Xena mused. "We're beating the shit out of him, and he knows it." She chuckled mirthlessly. "That'll teach him to try and come at me on my own ground."

The battle had started at dawn, with her leading the initial charge, preceded by the chakram arcing mightily with its baleful whine and taking down several of the enemy's crossbow-men before returning to Xena's outstretched hand. Her battle cry had sounded over the field as she flung herself at the enemy lines like a whirlwind of death, sword singing and her edgy stallion rearing and kicking for all he was worth, caught completely in his rider's frenzied battle lust.

To look upon the field now, seeing those men who worshipped her like a goddess fight, kill and die for her - it felt wonderful. The power. The glory. The fame. She threw her head back in a gesture of almost sensual pleasure.

When a boy came up to her leading her other war-horse, she jumped out of the saddle to change steeds, tossing him the stallion's reins. Her foot caught on something, and she looked down to see Gabrielle lying at her feet, torn and bleeding, her red-gold hair cluttered with drying blood. Her eyes were closed, her face frozen in a mask of death.

Dumbstruck, the warlord knelt by her friend's side, and brushed suddenly trembling fingertips across a blood-covered cheek. She watched her hand trace a smeared path through the sticky substance, her own fingers turning a dull crimson with the bard's spilled life.

Mist green eyes fluttered open and looked at her accusingly. "Xena, you promised. You lied!"

Gabrielle's voice struck a chord in a deep, forgotten place. The last word echoed all around her, and seemed to grow louder in Xena's ears. Shaking her head in angry denial, the warlord jerked back, and turned away. Perhaps the specter would go away if she refused to acknowledge it.

And looked into the intense blue eyes that she recognized as her own, challenging, beckoning.

"Come on, you know you want this," her own voice spoke from the figure opposite her, "Don't deny yourself. You were born to destroy, and to conquer. Here lies your destiny. Go and face the glory!"

Frantic, Xena's head whipped around to the ghastly shape of the bard, eyes now glazed and staring, and then back at her other self, vibrant and passionate in her powerful entreaty.

I killed her... My best friend, and the other half of my soul. I might as well have killed myself. This is a dream. Why can't I wake up? She dropped to her knees, raked her face with her fingers. The ebbing battle was frozen by the Warrior Princess' plaintive wail.

"Noooooooooooo..."

The battlefield was suddenly gone, to be replaced by the foggy interior of an Amazon sweat hut, where she knelt still, naked, her cry not yet faded, hand balled into fists. Feeling eyes still upon her, she turned. Where her alter ego had been, there stood now the slight, stringy shape of Mrtva. Gabrielle's motionless body sprawled at the fortune teller's feet.

Xena felt a warning tingle run through her, the kind that meant her body was warning her of an approaching threat in the waking world. The kind that usually made her snap right awake, every ounce of her alert and ready for action.

She heard Mrtva chuckle. "Sso you ssee, I have killed your little friend." She watched the dark woman's reaction from starling-bright eyes, and was rewarded by a narrowing of eyes and a tightening of lips. "Oh Yess, that makess you angry, doessn't it? You want to get your handss around my neck, don't you?" Her voice had an almost reptilian quality; high and sibilant like the slice of a sword through silk.

A hurt expression crossed the small woman's face. "But I've done you a favor, Warrior Princess. You are free now."

Xena got to her feet and stepped towards her, death on her mind. She paused in mid-step. Somebody was approaching her sleeping form. She must wake. She shook her head, clearing a brief spell of dizziness.

"Come on, kill me! I know you want to. I have freed you from her so you can go back to your glorious past. Let the darkness rule! And this can be your first step." Mrtva stood facing her with her arms spread wide.

"And I'll be glad to oblige," Xena snarled as her fist shot forward and caught the other woman squarely in the face, slamming her head back and sending her crashing into the hut's wall. Without turning a hair, the fortune teller got to her feet, her face pulling into a twisted parody of a smile.

"Yess, that'ss it. Ssurrender. It runss sstrong in you. The pathetic little sslut can't sstop you now. You will have the world at your feet." She gave Gabrielle's body a rough kick.

This was where Mrtva made her mistake. Xena never paused in her stride as she approached the fortune teller once more. She grabbed Mrtva by the throat and lifted her easily off her feet, bringing her face very close, and forcing herself to meet the chilling gaze. Why am I still sleeping? There is danger. I must wake!

"You're damn right, she can't stop me. But I made a promise once, and you'll have to do better than this to make me break it." I hope I sound surer than I feel. Gods, that was so, so close. She could have turned me. In fact, Xena was quite sure that only Mrtva's insult to Gabrielle had jerked her back from a path she had already started to slide down.

I have to wake up!!!

She was startled by a very evil giggle from the fortune teller. "How can you be so sure you're dreaming, Warrior Princess?"

The warrior did a double take. Had she spoken that aloud?

"I can see your thoughts, you silly cow! This is my dream you're sharing. And I will have you yet!"

"Not today," Xena whispered fiercely, dropping the woman. Heart heavy, she went to Gabrielle's body, and crouched down by it. All the blood was somehow gone from the bard's face, to be replaced by a green pallor, but the warrior's own fingers were still bloodied from touching the young woman's cheek earlier.

"You have saved me again, my love. I'm so sorry."

She received no answer from the rigid corpse. Brushing a gentle hand over misted and unseeing green eyes, the warlord tried to close them, but they snapped back open, still staring accusingly.

With a strangled cry, Xena jerked forcefully awake. Her heart was beating at a mad gallop. This had never happened to her before. Always, at the slightest sensation her body's reflexes would have woken her from even the worst nightmare.

Breathing deeply and deliberately, she forced her pulse to return to normal before she closed her eyes and listened into the night. Everything was quiet now. But then, her little display might well have startled an attacker into stillness. Wryly she thought that any advantage of surprise she might have had was now thoroughly ruined.

Allowing herself to relax ever so slightly, she raised her hand to run it through her hair. And froze, her pulse going right back to where it had been upon waking. Her fingers were covered in dark, sticky blood that she knew with horrified certainty was not her own.

Relax, Xena, there is a rational explanation for this. There must be! And now you'd better focus. Get worked up on this later, when you have the time. Can't be all hyper when there's somebody stealing around the place. And there was. She could hear him now, not particularly stealthy, and coming her way.

The hate, the madness, so sweet, come and drink, let go your conscience, and drink the darkness, so sweet...

The woman was mouthing the words soundlessly as she stole furtively around the dell where the strange warrior was sleeping. Dreaming. Warrior was dreaming. And they were evil dreams. They were what had called to her and made her sit up in her bed suddenly, and single-mindedly make her way out of the security of the town walls into this forlorn heath. Not hearing her daughter's pained imploring voice telling her to get back in bed. Not seeing the guards who uneasily opened the gate for her before she hurt herself trying to tear it down with her bare hands. Not seeing them shake their heads at each other in sorrow at her condition. Not caring.

So sweet, the blood, eat the darkness, drink the soul...

She froze in her tracks as the sleeper gasped and came suddenly awake, watched her battle for control with her own tormented heart aching in sympathy. My poor child has had a bad dream, must go and comfort... A sudden clarity flickered briefly in pale gray eyes that were misted over by insanity, as the aging woman laboriously made her way towards the stranger, her child. She longed to cradle her in her arms, and make it good.

Knowing that pretending to be asleep really wasn't an option anymore, Xena forced herself to calm, quietly drew her sword, and waited.

Shuffling footfalls came steadily closer, accompanied by the rustle and snap of vegetation. Her nocturnal visitor certainly wasn't trying for secrecy!

And then the warrior saw her. Middle-aged and of medium height, she must come from the town. The strange woman looked like she had just gotten out of bed - which might be the case, considering the time of night - graying brunette hair hanging in unkempt strands to her shoulders, face pale and drawn. She just stood there, looking at the warrior with curiously unfocused eyes, skinny fingers clenching and unclenching, lips moving in soundless speech.

Taking in the woman's forlorn appearance, Xena decided that her visitor posed no immediate threat. So she sheathed her sword and went closer. She did not relax her guard, though. It never hurt to be prepared. And she had this thing about strange women acting strangely.

"Well now, good woman," the warrior said gently, I don't think you should be out here at this hour all by yourself."

Watery eyes fastened on Xena as the woman continued moving her lips without uttering a sound. As she extended a hand and started to softly rub the warrior's arm, a benign smile creased her face.

Unsure what to do, Xena gently brushed the hand away and, trying but failing to fix the woman's gaze with her own, she spoke.

"What is your name, woman?"

A brief focusing of the woman’s eyes, a nod and a grin, rewarded her efforts.

"Mother! Mother were are you?" The voice was a good way off, breathless, calling urgently, a woman's voice.

The tall warrior shook her head, mildly bemused. This place was becoming crowded! Well, it was a safe bet who the caller's mother might be.

"Over here," Xena called. She listened to sounds of breathless running until a young, stoutly built woman came huffing and puffing up to her. Though she was taller and more massive than the older woman was, the family resemblance was evident as she rounded immediately on her mother and spoke sternly.

"Mother, what are you doing? You shouldn't be out here at night. There are brigands about." She got a vague grin for an answer.

The warrior quirked her lips. "I should say the same goes for you, too. I might be a brigand myself."

The younger woman looked her up and down before she spoke, with an uncertain smile.

"You don't look like one. Look, I'm sorry if mother's been bothering you" A sad look came into her dark eyes. "She hasn't been herself... I'm sorry. She practically tore down the city gates to get out here, and was gone before I could stop her. Frankly, I'm not in too good a shape, and I'm afraid she just outran me. She's tough as old boots," she said with a chagrined look.

Xena shrugged. "No trouble. But you really should get back inside those walls. You are not safe here."

The younger woman nodded. "You're right. I don't know what got into me. I have a young child, and if anything happened to me... Well, seems I was lucky. Thanks for humoring my mother. Oh, by the way, I'm Tessa." She smiled and extended her hand.

The tall warrior hesitated briefly, but then she shook the proffered hand. "My name's Xena," she said, dreading the woman's reaction. But to the warrior's surprise, the other brightened.

"The Warrior Princess! So it's really true that you've reformed, is it? I was hoping it would be. I've admired you so much ever since I heard the first story about you. Can you really snatch arrows out of the air? And have you really met Hercules?"

Xena's lips quirked in mild amusement at the barrage. "Yes, the same, yes, it's true, yes I can, and yes, I have."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm chattering like a silly little girl, aren't I?" She chuckled at herself. "But the stories say also that you travel with a very talented young bard. Is she here, too?"

This caused Xena to wince inwardly. Oh, Gabrielle! Hang in there, my bard, wherever you are. I swear I'll find a way. "No, she's... not with me at the moment."

"Oh," Tessa replied, not catching the change of mood. "Well, we've been keeping you up long enough. We'd better get back to the town. Look, the sun's coming up already."

"Yeah, you'd better," the warrior agreed, "I'll walk you there." Might as well. No more sleep for me, tonight.

While they walked, Tessa told her all she could possibly cram into the few minutes about her mother, her daughter, and the rest of the village. Xena walked beside her silently, more or less lost in her own thoughts. Then she realized Tessa had asked her a question. Scanning her memory for the other woman's last few words, she replied.

"If this man is bothering you so much, why isn't your husband doing anything? You are married, I presume?"

Tessa swallowed. "My husband passed away. A couple of weeks ago."

"I'm sorry," the warrior said sincerely.

Tessa looked at her, apparently having decided long ago it was all right to be open with this strange, imposing woman.

"Phisthos - my husband - he wasn't a good man. He beat me often, and he did... things... to our little daughter." She shook her head, anguished, before she continued in a whisper. "The gods forgive me, but it's better for little Lyssa and me that he's gone."

Reaching out, Xena gave the woman's shoulder a quick squeeze. "I understand." And a good thing he's dead, too, or he'd wish he were, after I was through with him, the warrior thought fiercely. Tessa seemed like a nice woman, and she certainly didn't deserve that kind of brutality. Neither did an innocent child.

"In fact, we think he was taken by the same... sickness that struck my mother."

"Are you saying that your mother has only been like this for a couple of weeks?"

Tessa nodded. "Actually, it struck them both on the same day. It must be some kind of disease. A few others in the town were also affected, and there were a few more deaths. " Her face was in shadow, but Xena could see that the excited gleam had left her dark eyes. She saw Tessa shudder, and hug herself in reflex.

"It was probably that weird woman who infected them."

That finally got Xena's full attention.

"A woman?" she asked, barely masking her excitement. Keep cool, probably just a coincidence...

"She passed through our town that day. Personally, I thought she didn't look like much, but looking back, I think she must have been seriously ill. She was so very pale. Her skin was almost green with pallor. My mother and Phisthos were standing rather close to her for a little bit. Some of the people seemed to be afraid of her, though I can't for the life of me think why. I mean, she looked a little ghastly, but..."

"What happened? To your husband?" the warrior asked intently. A racing pulse was becoming a condition Xena was getting quite used to.

"I don't know... it was really scary. One moment he was right as rain, then in mid-sentence, he gave this wild, high scream. I never thought any human being could make that kind of a noise. Then his eyes kind of glazed over, like... like mother's here. Only, he did not move anymore afterwards. He was dead as a rock, sitting at my kitchen table, and he didn't even fall down. Just sat there like a statue." She shuddered again, and stifled a sob. "And when I went to get mother, she was... like she is now." Tessa was weeping openly now, with Xena awkwardly patting her shoulder.

"Tessa, this is really important. Can you tell me what that woman looked like?"

The other woman pulled herself together, and spoke haltingly. "She had dark eyes, almost black, like mine. And her hair was dark with a tinge of chestnut. Actually, I've been thinking what a coincidence it was that her eyes and hair were the same colors as mine. Most people around here have lighter hair."

Xena had heard enough. Well, I'll be! Sounds like our creepy friend has been up for some more mischief. Maybe I can get a lead here. I wonder if she knows what happened to her neighbors upstream...

"Do you know where she came from? Or which way she went?"

"I... I think she must have come from the coast somewhere. And she probably continued inland along the river. But I really don't know. Why are you asking all these questions? Do you know that woman?"

"We've met," the warrior said coldly. "If it's who I think it is, let's just say I've got a bone to pick with her."

Tessa sniffed, and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. "And do you think there is a cure for..." she nodded her head towards her mother, who was strolling along beside them, deep in heated silent conversation with the gods only knew whom. Walking steadily, the three women had now almost reached Ambracia's gates.

"I don't know," Xena said honestly. She gave the other woman a long look. "You are a good woman, Tessa. I promise you if I find a way to cure her, I'll come back."

"Thanks," Tessa said, "that means a lot to me." She took a breath. "Well, here we are. Thanks for taking us. You... I mean, would you like to come in for a bit? You could get some more sleep, and a breakfast. I owe you that much at least."

The warrior smiled. "I need to get moving. I have some things to attend to. But thanks for the offer. And be well!"

Waving a quick good-bye, which was heartily returned, the raven-haired woman turned and started back towards her campsite at an easy run.

After a few minutes in the company of the fortune teller, it was becoming painfully clear to Gabrielle that things were not looking good.

Mrtva sauntered in and tossed down a collection of scrolls she was carrying, before crossing to where the bard lay and looking her huddled form up and down. "Feeling comfortable, my precious? I hope you enjoyed our little journey." Her grating words were followed by an ugly cackle.

Mustering what dignity she could in her awkward position, Gabrielle glared at the woman.

"You won't get away with this!"

The bard’s words made Mrtva laugh even louder, the shrill sound echoing eerily in the spacious cavern.

"And who's going to stop me? That big brute of a warrior? When the silly cow is scared shitless just from looking at me?" Her laughter turned hysterical. Even while the bard bristled at the fortune teller's insolence, she felt goose bumps creeping up her back at the sound.

Fighting to control her mad giggles, Mrtva gasped out the words. "Oh, I do hope she finds us. I would so dearly love to have some more fun with her. She's so - susceptible." A look of theatrical sadness came to the fortune teller's face. "But alas, she doesn't have a chance in the world to discover this little place. Of course this means I shall have to go find her night after night after night. Until, at last, all that's left of her will be a dead empty shell, devoid of reason, and utterly insane. Wouldn't you like to see that, you little piece of dung? She won't be hiding her feelings for you then," she cackled again, "because she won't care."

Gabrielle was having a very hard time maintaining a look of outward indifference. Her mind was churning something awful. Okay, Gabrielle, think. What are the four rules of behavior in dangerous situations? One. Run. Nope. Two. Fight, then run. Not when I'm tied like a sack. Three. Let them fight each other while you run. No again. Four. That's where you talk your way out of it. Okay, then, four. Oh Xena, whatever you're planning, do it quickly!

"What makes you think you scare her? Xena's never been afraid of anything in her life. I can't wait for the moment she gets her hands on you."

That seemed to amuse Mrtva beyond bearing, for she practically rolled on the ground laughing.

"Never been scared... oh, that's good. Hee hee hee. Really. I wish you could have seen her the other... Oh but you couldn't, could you. You were dead. Oh, you are so, so pathetic!"

The bard took a steadying breath before speaking. "If I'm so pathetic, how come you're so afraid of me you have to keep me tied down like some dangerous killer?"

"Me?? Afraid of you?? Don't be ridiculous." She paused. "I know what you're trying to do, strumpet. You won't fool me with your fancy talking. But suit yourself!"

With a lightning quick movement, the fortune teller hooked a finger under the ropes holding the young bard, and Gabrielle could feel the give as they came loose. Gods, what are her nails made of??

Rubbing her wrists where the rope had chafed and cut, Gabrielle sat up and untied her feet. What do you know, I think this has just become a 'two'! Mrtva had turned her back and was busying herself over the collection of scrolls she had brought.

Mystified but not questioning her good fortune, Gabrielle, after getting some sensation back into her numbed limbs, jumped to her feet and launched herself at the other woman with a wild yell. After some grappling, she managed to wrestle Mrtva to the ground and was holding her down by twisting the other woman's arm behind her back.

"Now," she said, panting a little, "you are going to tell me where in Hades' name we are, and then you are going to let me go home!"

Her face pressed against the pebble-strewn cavern floor, the woman still managed to sound condescending as she barked a laugh.

"You really are cute. Do you really think your puny efforts can hurt me?" Her movements a blur, she easily twisted her arm out of the bard's grasp, sprang to her feet and backhanded Gabrielle powerfully in the face, sending her crashing into one of the stone pillars. Her head connected with a sharp crack, sending a new jolt of pain through her and making Mrtva's voice sound suddenly blurred, and far off.

"Listen, you silly sow. Don't you ever..." she brought her face very close to the bard's who could see a red glow suddenly spring into the fortune teller's eyes, pulsing, "... ever try to attack me again! I might have plans for you that require me to keep you alive, but that doesn't mean I have to make it pleasant for you. Do we understand each other?"

Plans? What plans? I don't think I want to know... Swallowing, Gabrielle nodded.

"Of course this means I have to tie you up again," Mrtva told her in a soft whine. "But just so you know how futile your little stunt was, I will show you something."

She grabbed the bard roughly by her hair with one hand and caught Gabrielle's fingers with the other, expertly applying a pressure that soon had the blonde woman crying out in agony and sinking to her knees in an attempt to shrink away from the pain.

"I can break those fingers singly without much trouble," the fortune teller hissed into her ear, "and you know I will, so you'd better show me how nice and submissive you can be." A slight twist of the fortune teller's hand, and Gabrielle was forced back to her feet by another stab of sharp pain, and she did indeed follow meekly as Mrtva thus guided her through the narrow opening towards the little tunnel that must lead to the outside.

Gods, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this was all some very weird dream. Trouble is, though, that you can wake from a dream. I have a feeling that no force in the world will make me wake up from this. When they reached the cavern's exit, Gabrielle's breath caught.

The mouth of the cave was situated about thirty paces up a sheer sandstone cliff, with no visible handholds anywhere near, overlooking bizarre formations of the richly colored sandstone framing a canyon that extended in both directions as far as the eye could see.

A high ridge wound crazily through and across the canyon in the distance, its crest just broad enough, it seemed, for two people to walk abreast. At one point, it dipped a little and passed through a natural arch, before rising again and becoming one itself, spanning the bed of a small stream. The sun was shining with dazzling brightness, bathing the scene in an unreal, searing light that made the impossible colors stand out even more strikingly. It was actually quite warm here outside of the cool wet cavern.

This place was as breathtakingly beautiful as it was somehow otherworldly, and Gabrielle thought that she wouldn't be much surprised if any people living around here had red skin, or something similarly unthinkable. The bard found herself wishing that the circumstances of her being here were different. She would have loved to explore these rocky reaches, and find out every little secret hidden in that canyon and all its little caves and offshoots. But the other woman's hand still tangled firmly in her hair and that vice grip on her fingers reminded her painfully that this was no pleasure trip.

Well, Xena, I have a feeling I'm not in Greece anymore... In fact, she began to suspect that she was very, very far away from Greece.

She cast a despairing look down into the depths of the canyon, before a wildly cackling Mrtva hauled her unceremoniously back inside.

Gabrielle felt an uncharacteristic urge to hurt this woman, who was so obviously responsible for Xena's emotional imbalance, and who did not seem to have even one shred of decency in her. There was something definitely not human about the fortune teller, and the bard was beginning to develop more than just a mild dislike for her. But she also knew that she could not hope to overcome Mrtva physically, so for now she would just have to do what she did best - talk.

"So, my precious, do you like the view up here?" Mrtva inquired conversationally as she again bound the bard's hands and feet with a length of coarse rope.

"Cut out the niceties, Mrtva," Gabrielle said acidly. "We both know I didn't come here for the fun. Just tell me where in Hades' name we are and what you want with me, will you?"

Mrtva chuckled. "Bit uppity now, are we? I hardly think you're in any position to make demands, strumpet." Once again, her eyes briefly took on that red, pulsing, glow, which caused the bard to cringe involuntarily. "But you are lucky, for I am in a chatty mood today. Here, I've something to show you." She pulled the bound woman towards the cards she had spread out beside the scrolls.

"You see, slut," Mrtva told her in her high-pitched voice, "I've done another spread for you and your big bad friend. You are in for an interesting time, I dare say."

Gabrielle, trying to ignore the vile feeling in her gut and swallowing several times to bring the moisture back into her mouth, answered flatly, "I'm not interested, thank you."

"Oh, but you are going to listen to every word I say. I will make very sure that you do."

Torn between fright and indignation, Gabrielle said between clenched teeth, "Mrtva, listen, whatever it is you have brought me here for, just do it, okay?"

"Why the impatience? We have plenty of time to socialize before I get started. And I'm sure you will be more cooperative once my plan is set into motion." She made an ecstatic noise that was somewhere between a screech and a moan, and sounded like stone scraping over metal. The bard shivered.

"And what plan is that?" the blonde woman asked. Oh gods, Xena, you'd better hurry!

Mrtva looked sharply at her. "I shall finally be alive. And you will be the one to make it so." She was silent for some time to allow the words to sink in, and was rewarded by a horrified expression coming to the bard's face as Gabrielle stared aghast at the pale woman.

"And as you can see," Mrtva continued, green eyes ablaze, "the cards predict my stunning success."

At a glance, the bard could tell that most of the cards had a distinctly sinister meaning - Death, for example, and Violence, in the form of a horned devil leading two humans in chains. Her own card was there as well, and Xena's, not surprisingly, the Queens of Staffs and Aura. They lay separated by Universe, depicting what must be a map of the world, but in the shape of a sphere, circling around a curious conglomeration of other balls. Imagine the world being shaped like a sphere! Maybe even traveling around the sun! Quite ridiculous! Every child knew it was the other way round. There was Temperance again, a monk carrying two pewter mugs. It was placed above the one marked "Universe". Gabrielle shuddered again when the fortune teller began to speak. The woman's voice was the rustle of a snake slithering on dry grass.

"It seems your big friend is quite anxious to find you, isn't she? Only, she doesn't realize there is a whole world separating you from her." Mrtva cackled evilly. "And myself, of course. She has her hands full enough without worrying about you, I dare say."

"What do you want with her?" the bard asked with studied calm, "and why?"

"Oh, she is just entertainment, no more. I've never met a mortal who was able to resist me as long as this. I want to see how long it will take her to crack." For a moment, she seemed quite unaware of the young woman watching her with growing horror. "Can't be long now, the dreams are taking their toll. She is a constant source of sustenance... a pity she'll be going the way of all the others before her... But I am straying." Her eyes flicked to Gabrielle, then back to the cards.

"The Tower. Revelation will strike you like lightning. Oh how true! Because I have a little secret to tell you. You see, there is Temperance, the symbol of the transfer of essence from one vessel to another. And your card, here. I might add that the Moon represents me in this spread, and as you can see, it is lying directly above yours."

Being fascinated by the concept of the tarot, the bard had easily retained most of the cards' symbolism. The Moon, signifying deception. How fitting!

"I can see you are still with me. Not so hard after all to capture your attention, is it?"

To her chagrin, Gabrielle realized she had indeed been captivated once again by the tarot's magic. Only, this time what she felt was more morbid fascination than the former happy excitement.

"Do I have a choice?" the bard spat.

Mrtva leered at her. "Oh I like your spirit! It will serve me in good stead. Of course you realize whose essence will be transferred, don't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, but yes! And do you know how I will do it?"

"No!"

"On the first day", the witch continued relentlessly, "you and I will drink of the same cup. Then, on the second, I will drink your blood..."

"No," Gabrielle managed again, trying not to listen.

"I will. And do you know the best thing? You are going to offer it to me yourself, after cutting open your own vein."

Mrtva's eyes were not even remotely human anymore, glowing like smoldering coals and occasionally flickering brighter as her obvious excitement grew. Her face had become like a pale wooden mask, frozen in a stretched and forced grin. The bard was not sure which frightened her more - this terrible transformation, or the words spoken excitedly in the thing's sibilant, whining voice.

"Never!" Gabrielle's mind was frantically trying to keep pace with the terror mounting inside her.

The other appeared not to have heard. "The third day, you will be begging me to allow you to drink my blood, to show me your complete devotion."

The young woman closed her eyes. I can't lose my head now! I've got to get a grip, or she really will do all these terrible things. I need to have a clear mind for when Xena comes to rescue me. She tried not to think about how impossible that sounded. The warrior would find a way. She must! In the meantime, with Mrtva obviously slipping more and more into her true nature, perhaps she could find out some more about this... creature.

Only partly listening to Mrtva's continued ramblings, the bard was still able to pick up that there was to be some sort of branding next. She shivered. And then something the witch said made her blood curdle. A gasp escaped her.

"Yes, sweetie, you heard me. On the fifth day of the ceremony, you are going to offer me your heart, which I shall remove from you with my bare hands. I will hold it, still beating, and offer it in exchange for your essence." Mrtva raised up her hands with a hysterical screech.

"And then it will be done! I will be ALIVE!"

After the remainder of that night and the following day spent travelling without a particular goal, Xena stopped at dusk by a small offshoot of the river to allow the exhausted Argo some rest. She was tired herself, but far too restless to think about going to sleep. A sense of urgency was fast mounting inside her. Gabrielle was in the clutches of that monster, and surely in grave danger. And the warrior felt adrift like a piece of flotsam in the ocean, with no hope of ever touching on land. More so because she knew her grasp on sanity to be precarious at best, and weakening. The strain of having the bard taken from her so violently and unexpectedly, the feeling of guilt at being unable to act, the lack of sleep and last night's dream, were all taking their toll on her self-control.

Early that morning, she had passed through the village that lay a few miles down river from Ambracia. Nobody there had seen anything out of the ordinary in the last few weeks. No sudden mental illnesses or inexplicable deaths, and no strangers passing through. In her frustration, the tall warrior must have looked rather intimidating, for the man she had spoken to had gone quite pale, and had suddenly remembered he had pressing business on the other end of town.

She went to the stream to refill her waterskin and have a long drink. Tilting her head back, Xena let herself savor the trickle of the ice cold liquid down her throat, before she sat back against a rock and closed her eyes, trying to ease the tension out of her system with slow, steady breaths.

The warrior reopened her eyes when her head momentarily nodded, and shook her head a little. She must be more exhausted than she had realized. Funny, though. While she did feel tired, she shouldn't be weary enough to just doze off like that. Again, her head snapped up after dropping briefly forward onto her chest, causing the tall woman to frown in puzzlement. Perhaps she should get up and walk some more, before she passed out completely. She was used to sleeping when she wanted.

A noise from behind made her turn. Gabrielle stood there, dressed in a snow-white tunic, silently gazing at her out of large green eyes. For a second, the warrior was frozen in shocked surprise. Then she leapt to her feet to close the distance between them. It took an effort to wrestle her voice past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

"Gabrielle... You're okay. Gods, I... But how...? ...Are you real?" Something about this felt somehow not right. She fully expected the bard to puff into a little cloud of smoke and vanish.

However, the blonde woman slowly extended a hand to touch Xena's cheek, the back of her fingers like velvet on the warrior's skin.

"Xena, I love you. I always have. I was so afraid I would never be able to tell you. But I'm here now."

The taller woman closed her own big hand over the bard's smaller one, and said softly, "how can you be here? Did she really let you go?" Xena could feel the warmth of the blood pulsing powerfully through those slender fingers, and thought that never before had Gabrielle's touch felt so vibrant to her.

For an answer, the young bard stepped into her and rested those warm hands on the warrior's hips. Xena's arms went around the smaller woman reflexively. She had only intended to hug her friend, but seeing that fair head tilted up towards her, full of love and trust, she suddenly found herself very much wanting to know how it would feel to kiss those gentle lips. And when Gabrielle's hand traveled slowly up her back, leaving behind a trail of warm tingles that sent pleasant jolts to the pit of Xena's stomach, she knew the bard wanted the same thing. She dipped her head a little, and let it happen.

Closing her eyes, the warrior let herself be swept away by thunderous emotion as she felt those incredibly soft lips on her own. Her hands went up without conscious effort to tangle themselves in silky soft hair and pull Gabrielle further into her as she opened her mouth to allow the bard's tongue a gentle exploration. Never in her life had she experienced anything this intense. It was enough to just stand and let the sensations flood her. In fact, all she could think about was that she never, ever wanted this to stop.

Something shifting ever so slightly under her hands made her open her eyes. She found herself looking into steel blue eyes given a violet tinge by a red, pulsing, glow from deep within. Where the bard's silky golden hair had run through Xena's fingers, there were now jet-black tresses.

Mortified, she shoved Mrtva roughly away, sudden fear battling with anger and embarrassment.

"You again," the warrior managed between clenched teeth, "I should have known. It's that dream again, right?" And she's somehow pulled me into it although I wasn't even trying to sleep. I'm sure she is behind this somehow. This has never happened before. But how is she doing it? Xena swallowed a few times to relieve the taste of rotten meat where the woman's tongue had touched her. But the fuzzy, sickly-sweet aroma would not go away. She felt suddenly nauseous.

Mrtva threw her head back and laughed a shrill screeching giggle that echoed all around the warrior.

"Oh, that is so sweet, Warrior Princess! I knew the little piece of dung had fallen for you, but I never thought the big tough warlord could return the feeling."

What is she saying? She's probably just trying to goad me. I would have known if Gabrielle felt the way I did, wouldn't I? ...Wouldn't I?

"What have you done with her?" Xena growled.

"She makes you hot, doesn't she? It makes your blood boil just to look at her. You want her, don't you?"

That was true, of course, but the way Mrtva said it made it sound all wrong. Xena reined in a sudden surge of black rage with an effort. The fortune teller seemed to notice, because a brighter glow sprung into her eyes as she continued, and her voice took on that reptilian quality again.

"You are sstronger than her. You could have taken her long ago, no matter what sshe wanted. It'ss only your ridiculous new moralss that hold you back."

"That's not the way it works, Mrtva," Xena said coldly. She balled her hands to fists and dug her nails into her palms to keep from lashing out at the woman.

"Go on, kisss your conssciencse good-bye. You can sstill have her. I can give her to you."

"Where is she?"

"Silly, silly, you've seen her for yourself, haven't you? Your little friend is dead."

No! No, she isn't! It is only a dream. Oh Zeus, please let her be all right!

"Cut the crap, witch! I'm tired of your little tricks."

Mrtva fixed her with a cold stare.

"You think I'm playing games, do you?" She seemed to grow all of a sudden, starting to loom menacingly over the warrior, who felt ice-cold fear once more take hold of her heart. The witch's voice boomed ominously through Xena's head, though her lips were not moving.

"I haven't even begun to play yet, twerp! When I'm through with you, not even that silly wench will be able to help you."

Even with terror holding her in its iron grasp, Xena felt relief flood her at the implication that Gabrielle was indeed alive. The creature before her gave her little time to dwell on it, though.

Within the blink of an eye, Mrtva had gone back to her normal size. A white dove had appeared in her hands, which she was holding very gently. She put on an endearing look that was somehow more terrible than her most evil grimace. Her hand started softly stroking the bird's neck with the sweetest smile playing around her lips.

"You see," she said mildly, looking down at the pigeon in her hand, "I have you completely in my power, like this little chap here. I choose to play with you for a while, because I'm enjoying myself so very much. I just love to watch your pathetic struggle to hold on to sanity. Don't you know that you lost that struggle the moment you first looked at me?" She raised her head to stare at Xena. "I can feel your anger, and your fear, too." She spread her arms wide. "You want nothing more than to let it all out, don't you?"

Keep cool, it's only a dream. But why won't it stop? The woman's words were getting to her, touching something beyond reason, that she had wrestled down into the depths of her soul long ago, and had been struggling to keep there ever since. Looking at Mrtva made it all come dangerously close to the surface. And the dream was still holding her tightly in its clutches.

"Yessss," the witch hissed tauntingly, "look at me! It's your own darkness you ssee, sso look! Does it fill you with horror? Does it ssscare you?" She cackled, and turned her attention back to the white bird she was still stroking.

"As for your little friend - I have her just as securely." She lifted the dove to her face and stared closely at it, seemingly ignoring the terror-struck warrior. The bird ruffled its feathers and started to struggle, suddenly agitated.

"For now," Mrtva continued conversationally, "she continues to have her uses for me. But once I grow tired of her...." And with a quick movement of her hand, she wrung the dove's neck.

Clutching her hands to her throat and stifling a scream. Xena snapped out of the dream, heart hammering and Mrtva's shrill giggle still echoing in her ears. A rotten taste clung to her mouth, making her feel shaky with nausea. Stomach heaving, she staggered forward onto her knees, bent over, and retched violently.

Oh gods, if there's one thing worse than feeling out of control, it's feeling out of control and being sick. Ares' butt, what in the Nine Hells is happening to me?

She straightened and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, grimacing at the sting of bile in her throat. When she went to the stream to wash it down with a drink, a white object in the grass caught her eye, and she bent down for a closer look. It was a dead bird, a white dove. Its neck was broken. Xena closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Okay, that's it," the warrior said aloud, "I'm not sleeping again until that... Mrtva is taken care of." She chuckled nervously. "I must really, really be beside myself if I'm talking to myself. Right, Argo?"

The golden mare tossed her head and rolled an expressive eye at her.

"Right," Xena took a breath, "okay. Take it easy, Warrior Princess!"

Squaring her shoulders, she closed the distance to the stream and got her drink. Then she cupped her hands to scoop up some more water, and splashed it into her face, the shock of the cold bringing back some semblance of calm. She knew now what she would have to do.

She didn't have to like it, though.

"Pretty darn desperate, I said - yeah, I guess this qualifies... Okay, Argo," she said finally, "let's get going. We've got a witch butt to kick."

Chapter V : Switch

The tall warrior sat her golden horse on the shore of a lake, contemplating the sheer cliff rising before her. Roughly forty paces up its face perched a temple, hewn into of the rock and reached by a narrow path that wound and twisted crazily all the way around the mountain.

Though fall was fast asserting itself with frequent storms and bad weather, and the ground was squishy from recent rain, it was actually a rather nice day, with the sun peeking through a canopy of clouds. Its rays made dazzling highlights in a pair of eyes the color of a clear winter sky, that held a distant expression as the dark-haired woman nudged her mount closer to the foot of the path.

"Well, here we are, Argo," Xena told her mare in a soft voice. "I guess the only way is up." Considering, she added, "Not for you, though, girl. I think you'd better stay down here. Because I'm taking the direct route." She jumped out of the saddle, and bounced lightly on her feet to re-settle her armor, already looking for handholds on the rocky wall. Argo snorted and rolled an eye at her.

"Don't give me that look," Xena reproached gently, "I don't have the patience to take the long way round." And I have this terrible feeling that I'm running out of time. She took the mare's head in both hands and pulled it close.

"If I'm not back in two hours," she advised solemnly, "start sending out search parties."

Argo flicked an ear and pulled out of her grasp to start inspecting the grass growing at her feet, unconcerned.

"Don't worry too much about me, though," the warrior added dryly, and gave the war-horse a pat, before she put her hands on the rock in search for a good place to start climbing.

At any other time, the climb would have been a cakewalk. But Xena had traveled for almost two whole days without stopping, and the nights before that, her sleep had been less than refreshing. If she had stopped for a minute and allowed herself to face it, the warrior would have had to admit that she was at the end of her reserves, both physically and emotionally.

Thus perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise when a wave of dizziness came over her while she was hanging suspended under a little ledge, both feet scrabbling for a hold on the treacherous rock. She let herself hang motionlessly, eyes closed, and concentrated every fiber of her being on not letting her fingers slip.

Steady, Xena, steady. You're three thirds there, you can go all the way. It's only a few more paces. Just need a breather, that's all. No problem.

But she could not stem the wave of uncharacteristic panic that threatened to engulf her, nor clear her mind of the image of a white dove with a broken neck.

*****

The sun had not yet risen when Gabrielle woke. She could tell as much by the utter darkness surrounding her. During daytime, the cavern was dimly lit by a shaft of light coming through the short tunnel that was the cave's entrance. If a hole in the rock halfway up a mountain with no path leading to it and no visible handholds could be considered an entrance.

The bard suspected that she was alone, having found out that whatever Mrtva was, she evidently did not need to sleep. The fortune teller had left the day before, just after... the young woman's mind shied away from the memory. She swallowed the bile that threatened to rise again. There could not be anything left in her stomach, after she had thrown up practically all through the night. What little sleep she had been able to get had been slow to come and fitful.

An empty feeling in her mind and a strange inner pull confirmed her suspicion that Mrtva was not here - whatever had been done to her, it had given the bard an awareness of the witch that transcended her normal senses. Oh, the woman was somewhere - in fact, Gabrielle could have pointed a finger straight at her, so strong was that new sense that would let her find the other woman across any distance - but Mrtva was very far away. The bard grimaced in disgust at the feeling of need that enveloped her as a result of the witch's absence. A feeling that was replaced by a raving frenzy bringing her blood to boil as soon as the witch was near. Dionysus and his Bacchae would have been awed. But for Gabrielle, it was scary.

Her gaze flicked to the darker patch in the back of the cavern. She knew now what lay behind that dark tunnel, though she would have preferred to find out in some other way. Try as she would, the memory of the previous day was etched into her mind, and would not stay suppressed for long.

A visibly excited Mrtva led her along that tunnel at sunset, once again using that trick of applying pressure to cause pain. In her eagerness, the witch put a lot more force into her grip on the bard's hand and arm than strictly necessary. Gabrielle had to bite her tongue repeatedly to keep from crying out in agony. She refused to give the other woman that satisfaction.

After a brief trek up a slowly narrowing passage that curved sharply and irregularly, Mrtva ushered the subdued bard into another cavern, bathed in a warm, dancing light from torches liberally scattered along the walls. The flames burned fitfully in the stale air and ate up enough of it to make breathing laborious. Some sort of incense wafted through the chamber, and Gabrielle could never be sure whether it was the lack of fresh air or that heavy, heady aroma filling her nostrils that made her feel light-headed and weak. All of this didn't bother Mrtva at all, of course.

The chamber was somewhat smaller than the other cavern, and must be directly above it, judging from the turn and slope of the tunnel leading here. This place was much dryer, and lacked the splendor of the Stalactite Chamber, as the bard had come to call it. It did have its own kind of beauty, though, featuring more of the colorful and intricate sandstone formations she had seen on the outside. Roughly in its center lay a large stone slab, of a slightly different texture and color than the surrounding rock. It seemed to serve as some sort of altar, because a crimson cloth was spread atop it. On it were placed a sacrificial dagger, a silver chalice filled with a thick, bubbling liquid, an unlit torch and a wide bowl made of clay. A large, deep-barreled drum sat on one narrow end, and a chandelier set with several candles burned on the other.

Dazed by the fumes and lack of fresh air, Gabrielle struggled only faintly, as Mrtva dragged her towards the altar. So dulled was her mind that she hardly felt any apprehension at all as Mrtva made her climb onto the altar and strapped her wrists down with strips of leather. That done, the witch strode around to the drum and started beating it in a slow, rhythmic beat that reverberated through the bard's entire being.

An ecstatic, distant look on her face, she intoned in an eerie, singsong voice.

Water to find us
Air to entwine us
Earth to subdue you
Fire to undo you
Spirit to bind us

Mrtva repeated the words over and over, singing herself into a frenzy, the drumbeats coming ever faster. Gabrielle felt her body responding to the rhythm picking up, her heart pounding in beat, her breath quickening. Even after the witch stopped beating the drum, the pounding seemed to go on, picking up cadence and whirling like a tangible thing all around her. The bard hardly followed what Mrtva did next, but  it seemed to involve the chalice and its vile-smelling, sickly green contents. The sting of the fumes rising from it were faintly reminiscent of the drug Mrtva had used on her during the abduction. Before she knew it, the liquid was held to Gabrielle's lips, bubbling like boiling pus under her nose. She turned her head, wrinkling her nose, but the witch simply pulled her around by her hair, tilted her head back and poured it down the reluctant bard's throat.

It tasted positively awful. The stuff stung her tongue before having fully touched it, and Gabrielle spat and spluttered frantically, trying not to let any down her throat. Mrtva expertly pressured a spot under her jaw, forcing her to swallow. The bard made a face as the witch released her and took the chalice away from her mouth. Then she did a double take, smacking her lips a little. This wasn't so bad after all! In fact, she could not remember anything as tasty... She practically snatched the chalice from the Mrtva's hand, who had taken a deep draught for herself...
 

After that, things were a blur. Gabrielle dimly remembered, as soon as Mrtva had swallowed her portion of the liquid, of being somehow aware of the fortune teller in a way that made her shudder to the core. There was a depth of evil in the witch that Gabrielle would never have thought possible, an evil sprung from profound jealousy and bitterness, and, buried so deeply it was hardly perceptible, sadness and pain. While she was thoroughly repulsed by what she sensed in Mrtva's twisted being, she was perversely and inexplicably attracted to her on some other level that she couldn't quite grasp. It frightened her more than anything.

She flexed her left hand experimentally, and winced at the sharp stab of pain in her wrist where Mrtva had twisted it. There didn't seem to be anything broken, but the joint was badly bruised and painful nonetheless. Her stomach was roiling something awful from that vile potion, and probably would for a while yet. Curse that fortune teller!

I've got to stop thinking of her as a fortune teller. That sounds entirely too human for what she is. Hades, anything I can come up with sounds too mild! I'm sure Xena has some choice titles in mind for her. I may be the storyteller in this, but she sure is the expert on colorful language! Gabrielle allowed herself a moment of visualizing her dark warrior friend. Xena, I know you can't hear me, but this would really be the time to put that brilliant plan of yours into action. I don't know exactly what she has in mind for me, but if she needs my heart, she probably doesn't mean for me to get it back. She sighed. I just wish I could have told you... how important you've become for me. Maybe now I'll never get the chance... The bard had to chuckle suddenly as a stray thought crossed her mind. And whatever you do in my behalf, don't you go climbing any sheer cliffs or anything as foolish. The shortest path isn't always the best or fastest. You taught me that!

*****

Taking slow and steady breaths, the warrior hung suspended thirty feet above the ground, with nothing but jagged rock beneath her. The closest foot- or handholds that she could see could only be reached by sacrificing her grip on the rocky ledge, at least with one hand. She might have swung a leg over that ledge and pulled herself up, but it was all she could do at the moment to hang on. Argo was there below, a golden shape the size of a mouse, blissfully searching the ground for choice patches of grass. So this is what I get for not following my own advice... I believe I told Gabrielle once why it isn't always a good idea to pick the shortest path...

Gabrielle...

Xena closed her eyes for a moment, digging deep into herself to tap those secret energies she knew must be there. This was the time to use them, when the life of her bard was at stake. She just could not let any harm come to the woman that meant more to her than anything else in the world, including her own life. Gods, I try never to ask much of you, you know that. But if I ever even did one thing right in my life, please hear me and let me find the strength for this! Not for my sake. For hers. Please allow me to help her!

The warrior reopened her eyes, willed her head to clear, and her muscles to respond. Too stubborn to acknowledge her failing strength and the overwhelming odds against her, she scanned the ledge above her, finding a jagged overhang about three feet above and to her left. If she could just hook her foot over that... Some god must have been listening, because by some incredible feat of willpower, she managed to gather momentum by swinging her body back and forth a few times, before giving a mighty heave, releasing her hold with one hand, and feeling her leg hook securely onto the ledge.

After that, pulling herself up onto the ledge was routine. Xena flopped onto her back, gasping for breath and fighting the spots still dancing before her eyes, and sent a curt, warrior-style "thanks" up to whoever was listening.

She found herself almost directly beneath the temple that loomed monumentally on the face of the rock, strangely out of place up there on the mountain. It was almost as if some god had put it up there on a whim and then forgot all about it. But the Lady of the Night was known for her somewhat queer tastes. While the warrior was slowly recovering her equilibrium, she started thinking about a way to attract Nyx's attention. She had not had much contact with that particular goddess. Well, she would find a way.

*****

Even if it meant dealing with mortals, the Goddess of Night was grateful for the pretext to leave this ridiculous gathering. They really weren’t getting anywhere by watching the one who called herself Mrtva hewing away at the Warrior Princess’ sanity and wreaking havoc in the mortal realm. And Nyx had begun to suspect where that infernal creation had escaped from. She would have to have a talk with her grandson about this. But another force seemed to have an interest in the matter, and that was one even a goddess as ancient as she did not dare anger. So she would do that one’s bidding and help the warrior where she could, though personally, she rather thought the bard stood a better chance against this particular foe. The Lady of the Night was not particularly partial to doing favors to mortals, but having Atropos’ scissors poised above you was more than enough reason to go against your preferences just this once, no matter how strongly Zeus objected.

In any case, it was a safe bet that the other gods at the gathering did not know who was calling on Nyx, with their attention riveted the bard and Mrtva, who was at this very moment starting the occult ceremony known as the Binding. Most gods frowned upon this, but a few of the more seedy characters really got a kick out of that kind of thing. For example, by that evil smirk on the Goddess of Discord’s face, Eris was very much with Mrtva in this. And while the Goddess of the Night herself had a certain affinity for the darker things in life, black magic was definitely not in her portfolio. She knew that one like Mrtva had no place in the mortal realm. The being's presence in the waking world upset the universal balance. Balance must be maintained. Nothing else was important.

Now, for this mortal, who was about to do a very stupid thing, meaning to compel rather than ask Nyx for an appearance. Under normal circumstances, such presumptuous behavior would have to be punished. Perhaps a way could be found to get back at the impertinent fool and still get this unfortunate issue resolved...

The inside of the temple was sparingly furnished. Light filtered in through oblong windows on both sides of a set of bronze double doors leading to a landing outside. Where it touched down, bright lances painted the stony floor, bathing the inside in a dim golden light. A walkway lined by columns led up to an altar set on a dais at the far end of the spacious chamber. The whole temple had been hewn out of the very rock of the mountain it sat in, and it showed in the way its features seemed to melt into one another, almost giving the impression on having formed naturally.

There on the dais, shrouded in partial darkness, reflecting light sending blue flashes across dark hair, knelt Xena, one arm resting upon the altar, the other holding her dagger, which she held poised above her wrist, a defiant light in those intense blue eyes. She raised that gaze to somewhere above the altar as she became aware of the slight shift in reality that seemed to announce most gods' presence. Sure enough, the air there shimmered and coalesced into a female shape that floated down to stand beside the warrior on the dais. As her form solidified, it was easy to see that Nyx was not amused.

"You know well it is not permitted to threaten with suicide on a sacred altar, mortal," the Goddess of the Night stated coldly, fixing the warrior with a flat stare from eyes blacker than night.

"Yeah, well, sorry 'bout that, Nyx. Couldn't be bothered with protocol just now. No time." Xena met the goddess' glare unflinchingly. "I need your help. Bad."

"And you think after what you've just pulled off here, that I will give it to you freely?" Nyx raised an eyebrow, and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Listen, Nyx, I needed you to get here on the double because I'm running out of time! My friend is in some grave danger, and I mean to get her out of it before she gets hurt. But I can't do it by myself. You've gotta help me."

The goddess had to concede the woman was no coward. With grudging respect she acknowledged the warrior's defiant stance. Xena wanted Nyx's help desperately, but was too proud and stubborn to ask properly. But of course it would never do to let the mortal know. She let her expression darken. Her mind had been made up from the beginning, of course, but it would not hurt to let the impertinent warrior stew for a bit longer.

"You are not making your situation any better, woman. I am very upset with the way you have forced me to come here. And instead of dropping humbly to your knees begging for my forgiveness, you make demands. You are lucky I have not blasted you into oblivion. But go on the way you're going, and I might do just that!"

Even with this very real threat, the warrior did not even flinch. She muttered stubbornly, "I SAID I'm sorry, okay? What else do you want? It's not for myself I'm asking this."

"It is not?" Nxy said, her stare piercing the warrior's glacier blue gaze, and the hint of a knowing smile playing around her lips. "You might have fooled me, mortal."

That did seem to throw the warrior off balance, just a little bit. Xena's pupils narrowed for an instant before she spoke, her voice carefully impassive. "That's as it may be, Nyx. Fact is, there's a monster running loose who's got my friend, and I mean to stop her." Her voice picked up an angry intensity as it dropped to a hissing whisper. "And Hades kiss my boots if I don't pummel the Nine Hells out of the goddamned bitch before I'm through!"

The Lady of the Night almost forgot herself and chuckled at that heartfelt statement. The nerve of the woman, to speak such in the presence of a deity! In spite of herself, she was beginning to enjoy this little discussion. But the warrior was right, time was indeed running out for the bard. Nyx would have to cut this short.

"Listen, warrior. It seems we have a common interest here. I will help. What is it that you want?"

"For a goddess, you are remarkably slow-witted," Xena muttered so quietly that Nyx didn't think she was supposed to hear. Addressing the goddess, the warrior said, "well, I thought you could just, you know, whisk me to where she is..."

The goddess chose to ignore the affront, trying not to actually gnash her teeth. Curse Atropos, curse her bumbling grandson, curse Mrtva, curse this mortal! Well, at least she would have the satisfaction of putting the warrior in a very uncomfortable position - while giving the woman the help she had promised. Brilliant!

"That is not in my power. Gabrielle is very far. You might not survive the trip. There is however, another thing I may be able to do..."

*****

Her stomach was still giving her hell when Gabrielle saw the sun's rays peek through the entrance. There had not been any more sleep for her, just more throwing up, shivering and sweating at the same time, and that empty yearning in her mind. She felt so cold that she thought her bones would burn to a crisp if she breathed too deeply.

The young woman got to her feet awkwardly, and took a few painful steps to alleviate the burning ache in her joints. She swooned, and grabbed one of the natural pillars for support. Oh, Hades, of all the times to start running a fever!

The bard paused suddenly, a strange giddy anticipation rising in her. She was coming to eagerly await that feeling, and dread it. It meant that Mrtva was close. The ritual was about to continue. Soon now... soon they would be one.

Gabrielle shuddered.

*****

"Are you serious?" Xena asked incredulously. The goddess only nodded.

Nyx's suggestion had caught the warrior off guard. It sounded completely insane, and she wasn't at all sure if it was a good idea. But the Lady of the Night was right about one thing. It seemed the fastest way to get her hands on Mrtva, and it would certainly be a surprise move. The most important thing, though, it would get Gabrielle far out of harm's way.

Part of her, anyway.

"And you're sure it'll work? I mean... Will I still be... me? Or ..."

Nyx cut her short with a gesture. "You will be you, but you will be in the body of your friend. It will certainly be different from what you're used to. You will have to be very, very mindful of that body's limitations."

"But what about Gabrielle?"

"It will be the same for her, of course, worse maybe because it will hit her unprepared. She will handle it, though. You are the one who is going to be in grave danger. Danger you might not be able to get out of."

Xena shrugged. "Yeah well, it's gotta be done... looks like it's gotta be me." The warrior looked at Nyx and hesitated, concern overriding her stubborn defiance for the moment. "Will... will you make sure she's all right? Please?"

Nyx looked at the woman before her for a long time, appraising her. Xena never turned a hair under the goddess' scrutiny, though she was boiling with impatience inside. "Very well," Nyx finally said, "I will see to your friend."

"Thanks," Xena said, frowning thoughtfully. "Now... I have one more question..."

The goddess raised an eyebrow. "More questions, warrior? You are pushing it."

"Just one. I'm sure you're not doing this for nothing. So, what's it gonna cost me?"

The Lady of the Night gave a little shrug. "No cost to you, mortal."

It was Xena's turn to raise a dark eyebrow, giving the goddess a suspicious look. "No cost, Nyx? Why? Where's the catch?"

That earned her a flat stare. "That need not concern you. Let's just say I have a very compelling reason."

Wisely, the warrior shrugged and held her peace.

"So," Nyx said, "shall we get on with it? Your friend's situation will not get any better if we drag this out."

"Thought you'd never ask," Xena muttered under her breath. she stuck out her chin and raised her head at the goddess. "I'm ready."

Chapter VI : Swish

Blood... blood... blood rushing through her veins, searing hot. She could feel it course through her body, every single drop leaving a burning trail inside her. She was a bard no longer, she was the Vessel. There to give life... there to merge with the Other.

Gabrielle was kneeling by the stone altar, one arm resting upon it, the other holding the sacrificial dagger to her wrist. Her eyes were glazed over in a mad frenzy, brought about by the effects of that potion and the aroma of the incense burning thickly.

Mrtva was similarly kneeling, facing her across the altar, both elbows resting on its surface, holding in her hands that same silver chalice they had drunk from the day before. The pounding of the drum still throbbed in her ears, even though the witch had not touched the instrument today - the rhythm just seemed to have become part of her being.

Something tickled in the back of the young woman's mind, something about the wisdom of attempting suicide - or seeming to - on a sacred altar... she could not put a finger on it.

It did not matter, however. All that mattered was the creature opposite her, who was watching the young woman's every move while speaking a prayer in some unknown language that sounded harsh and sinister to Gabrielle's ears. As she spoke the words, the air above Mrtva wavered and a sense of dread washed over the bard as she felt that strange shift in reality that announced the presence of a divine being. An ominous presence flickered briefly into existence, a face that filled Gabrielle with the deepest horror imaginable.

For she had seen it before, or would in the future, she was not sure which. A red face distorted by hatred, a horned head, eerily familiar. The demonic apparition stared at the bard for an instant and was gone, leaving behind the empty echo of a wicked laughter.

"Well, girl, what are you waiting for?"

Mrtva's rasping, sibilant voice almost made her jump out of her skin. Frozen in shock by the apparition, Gabrielle had lost track of the ritual. Chagrined, she bit her lip and hurried to place the sacrificial blade against her skin. It would not do to anger the Other.

By the gods, what is happening to me? I want this... I can't fight the urge to please her. Oh gods, help me!

Suddenly everything started whirling before her eyes. The world winked out for the blink of an eye, and came back, still spinning. Gabrielle felt nauseous. She was still kneeling, but the altar was a different one. The walls of the cave were no longer there, replaced by the smooth walls of a man-made chamber. The bard found herself looking into a pair of intense dark eyes across the altar from her. Eyes of a stranger. It was too much. She put her hand to her forehead, and fainted dead away.

*****

Meanwhile, Xena was staring in mortified fascination at a sacrificial dagger she was in the process of pulling lightly across the tender skin of a wrist that was not her own, drawing forth a light steady flow of blood. She seemed to have some considerable trouble breathing, as if an iron band constricted her chest. Her pulse was racing irregularly. She still felt dizzy from the exchange, as Nyx had said she would. In fact, the goddess had predicted that she would probably faint, something the warrior had no intention whatsoever of doing. I'm damned if I give you that kind of an opening, witch. Must... hold... on! And she did, barely, by one of her incredible tricks of willpower.

As she fought to adjust to this new situation, a thought occurred to her - Nyx had not mentioned if or how she was going to restore them both to their own bodies. Trust a god to get you into all kinds of fixes!

Mrtva was holding a silver chalice underneath the cut wrist, catching the blood as it trickled down from the wound. Her eyes, pulsing bright red, held a mad, distant expression. She was murmuring something in a strange, guttural language while she waited for a small puddle of the bard's lifeblood to gather at the bottom of the vessel. Xena watched the dark liquid flow, mesmerized and unable to act for the moment. Her mind raced. What was being done here? Should she act to prevent it, making the witch suspicious, or was it better for now to just play along and try not to let her catch on? If she let this continue, would some irreparable damage be done to the woman she loved? Had such damage been done already? If she interfered now, would she have the strength to fight that woman? Something had obviously been done to this body that made Xena feel extremely weak and giddy, not to mention that strange, out-of-place feeling of wild ecstasy. And the shock of the transfer still left her in a stupor.

When she saw Mrtva bring the chalice to her lips to drink of Gabrielle's blood, something snapped. Xena lurched forward with a barely controlled movement, and sent the chalice flying from the witch's hand. It clattered noisily to the floor, the blood oozing out and seeping into the rock. No part of my bard will ever go to you, bitch, I swear, the warrior thought fiercely. Zeus, I hope it's not too late, though... gods, don't let it be too late!

Mrtva was staring at her, a mixture of indignation and shocked wonder written on her face.

"How dare you..." Her voice was the screech of metal against metal. "After all I've done for you, you betray me. I am very displeased with you, my sweet."

My Sweet? Gods, what has been happening here?... I swear If you've harmed her...Okay, think quick, Xena... she doesn't seem to have caught on something is amiss with Gabrielle... maybe I can talk my way out... yeah, right. Like I'm the one who has the way with words... well nothing for it. Here goes...

Trying to put on a mortified expression, she said, "I'm sorry... I don't know what got into me..." Still dizzy, she did not even have to fake the shakiness of her voice.

"Well," the witch said, penetrating her with an evil stare, "your little stunt has ruined the flow of the ritual. Dahak is displeased. I will have to find a way to appease him... "

Who in the Nine Hells is Dahak? The name sounds sinister enough... Haven't heard of a god by that name though... Well, let'im come!

Xena bowed her head meekly - hiding the angry fire that had suddenly come to her eyes. "I am sorry... I know you only do what you must. I stand ready for my punishment." The words chafed with her, but at the same time seemed to come from somewhere deep down. Oh Gabrielle, what has she done to you? Will you ever be yourself again after this?

*****

The first thing Gabrielle noticed upon regaining consciousness was the fact that her head was clear although it hurt a little, and the sick feeling in her stomach gone, while her muscles felt as if she had just climbed a mountain. The second was that Mrtva seemed to be far away. The third was that while she could still sense her, she did not feel the empty craving to be near the witch that she would have expected.

Through closed eyelids she was aware of a weak diffuse light from her left. It was colder than she remembered. Hades, I don't think I ever passed out this way before.. Did I dream that, or was I really somewhere else there? Do I dare open my eyes?

Curiosity got the better of her, as was to be expected, and she carefully cracked open her eyes, blinking a little at the sunlight streaming in from a window many paces off. Sensing a presence close by, the bard turned her head and found that same pair of dark, long-lashed eyes she had looked into before fainting, in an eerily handsome woman's face. Only now she realized they weren't the eyes of a mortal.

She was in the presence of a goddess.

Properly humble, Gabrielle tried to sit up, murmuring words of devout admiration.

"What... who... uh... where... how...?"

"That's four questions, mortal," the goddess said, sounding a touch amused. "I am Nyx. You may have heard of me." Her lips quirked.

"Forgive me," the bard said, swallowing against the strange sound of her voice in her own ears. She must be getting sick. "I feel a little... strange. Different somehow. How long have I been out?"

"Only a few moments. It is no wonder you should feel strange. Listen, bard, this is going to take some adjusting to. I agreed to stay here and get you on your way, so that is what I shall do." Nyx glared at her darkly. "But I will not tolerate from you what I just had to listen to from that warrior. She is lucky I had no choice about the matter."

"Xena...? What are you talking about? Is she here? ...If I may ask."

The goddess gave her an odd look. "Yes and no. Do not be confused, you will be made to understand."

"Please... Xena... is she all right? Where is she? And how did I get here?"

"Your friend has put herself into a very dangerous situation to get you here."

Something dawned on Gabrielle then. She knew Xena. If her friend had been making deals with the goddess, it could only mean one thing.

"She traded places... Oh gods, she didn't... but she did, didn't she? Does that mean she is in the hands of that witch now? Right where I was before I came here?"

"Precisely. But it is only her spirit that went there to take the place of yours. Her body remains here."

"Her body is still here? But how...?" Realization struck the bard, as she hesitantly raised an arm and looked at it. A large, long-fingered hand, a muscular forearm wearing Xena's ornate gauntlet. It almost made her faint again. "Name of the Gods... Whatever possessed her to do such a thing?"

"You are taking it better than expected," Nyx said dryly. "Your big friend wanted you out of there at all costs, but since it isn't in my power to take her there physically, she agreed to resort to the next best thing. So I exchanged your souls while your bodies remain in place."

Gabrielle considered for a moment, then she squared her shoulders resolutely and looked the goddess full in the eye.

"Okay, I want you to switch us back!"

Nyx gave her a look.

"Please! I mean it. Xena's in much worse danger from Mrtva than I am."

At that, the Goddess raised an eyebrow. "From what I've witnessed, Mrtva means to rip your heart out. That sounds dangerous enough to me."

Gabrielle took a breath to steady herself. "She can still do that, and you know it. As for Xena, it won't just be her death. Mrtva is out to undo her very soul. She said as much. I don't know how she is doing it, but she seems to be succeeding, and I can't let that happen."

The Lady of the Night smiled. "You are a very courageous young woman. This warrior should thank all the gods she can think of that you are her... friend." A knowing gleam came into her eyes as she saw Gabrielle react to the little hesitation. "But I will not change you back now. You will have to find your way there physically if you want to get her out of this. In my opinion, you have a much better chance against Mrtva than your big tough friend, so you might as well use this body's superior capabilities to get you both out of this. Besides, the warrior may now know where she is, but you are the only one who knows how to find that place. You have made the journey there, she hasn't."

"But I was drugged senseless. I don't remember a thing!"

"That doesn't matter where you'll be going. And besides, it also seems you have acquired a... shall we say rather unique awareness of Mrtva's whereabouts." Nyx drew herself up, looking sinister. "We have wasted enough time! Listen, and listen well, for I shall only say this once."

Gabrielle nodded. "I'm listening."

"Have you heard of the Mirrors of Phantasos?" When the bard shook her head, the goddess went on. "There were five of them made, a very long time ago. They are powerful tools that enable you to physically travel the Realm of Dreams, and they give you great powers there, if you know how."

"So that's how she was doing it," Gabrielle breathed, "I never suspected it had to do with that ugly mirror she has."

Nyx chuckled dryly. "That 'ugly mirror' you refer to is one of the most dangerous artifacts ever made. If she really has that, as I've suspected for some time now, she is certainly not to be trifled with. I hate to think what she will be able to do once she discovers all of its powers. Combined with her own abilities, that would truly be devastating."

Coming from a goddess, Gabrielle thought, I suppose that statement is bad news indeed. And now I guess it is I who has to beat her somehow, with Xena up in that cave with Mrtva. That was a very stupid thing you did, Warrior Princess!

"Can you tell me more about her?" the bard asked carefully. "I mean, she can't be human, I've figured that much out for myself. So what is she?"

Nyx hesitated. "No, I cannot," she finally said. "What I can tell you is that she has certain powers of the mind, especially over people with evil in them, or going through emotional torment." The Lady of the Night gave her a meaningful look.

Oh, Xena, couldn't you have found some other way to do this? You can't begin to suspect the danger you're in, my love! Oh gods, she'll tear your soul to pieces!

"Okay. Tell me what I have to do."

"Your only chance to reach Mrtva quickly enough is through the Realm of Dreams - by the same route she took you. You will have to get hold of one of the Mirrors to do that. It is very dangerous. Mortals die so easily in that world, and those that do so quickly are the lucky ones."

"It can't be any worse than losing her," Gabrielle said quietly. "Nothing could be worse torture than that. So where do I get that Mirror?"

There was compassion in Nyx' gaze as she nodded. "Very well, bard. As I said, there were five of them made. Two have been destroyed in some sort of magical explosion, one is kept locked away in the Underworld, and one remains here in the mortal world, at the Oracle of Delphi."

"That's four," the bard said slowly.

"The whereabouts of the fifth are unknown, but it is rumored to be the most powerful of them all. It has been lost for a millenium, give or take a century. So, for you it's a ride to Delphi, or a trip to the Underworld, Tartarus, more specifically. The Oracle is just under a day's ride west from here. There is a way into the Underworld about halfway there through a deep gorge. Your choice."

"Time is short, I suppose," Gabrielle thought aloud, "but I don't think I should be as daredevil as this body's normal inhabitant. Mrtva must be through with whatever she was doing to me," She shuddered, "so the ritual will continue tomorrow. That should give me some time.... How do I use the mirror once I have it?"

"One of the rules about the Mirrors is that they work differently for everyone. Each person has to discover anew how to unlock all their secrets. All I can tell you is that you open the portal to the Realm Of Dreams by touching the surface of the mirror, and you close it by touching the frame. But mind your body parts as you close it! You do not want an arm or worse caught in the other realm when the portal closes."

"Makes sense," Gabrielle said, and shuddered.

"Well," Nyx said after a while, "I have told you all I can. You will be on your own from here. Good luck. The warrior's horse is down by the lakeshore, by the way."

Without waiting for an answer, the goddess flickered, and disappeared.

"Oh, and be careful what you dream, there." The words echoed hollowly through the chamber after Nyx was gone.

"Great. Juust great," Gabrielle murmured. She moved around an arm experimentally, fascinated by the way Xena's muscles flexed and rippled under her command, and by that feeling of latent power in those strong limbs. It would take some time to adjust and get the feel of this body. Better take good care of it, the bard thought, you would be terribly upset with me, wouldn't you, if I messed up your reflexes, or something? A fond smile came to her lips that she couldn't have stopped if she had tried, to be replaced immediately by a frown of concern.

"Okay... no sense in wasting any more time... hang in there, love! I'm on my way!"

*****

The nightmares came again shortly after Mrtva had hauled her to another chamber and left her there. Xena had just collapsed by the base of a stalagmite, stomach heaving, feeling as if a white-hot fire was burning her bones from the inside. Despite her struggles against Morpheus' calls, she was out cold and sleeping within seconds.

She was the warlord. Blood - none of it her own - liberally smeared her battered armor as she guided her mount through the remains of the smoldering village, face stony, hiding the emotions warring inside that cold cold heart. Women and children had died today. Innocents. Part of her screamed at her guilt in this. Another part stamped down firmly on such foolish emotion. This village was well positioned strategically. It would make a great addition to her bases of operation. Too bad about the fire. Sacrifices had to be made. Needless now to worry about whether it had been an accident, or one of her men.

Her gaze flicked to where a handful of ragged, trembling people were huddled together. Those were the survivors of the fire. Three women, an old man, a little boy and a barely nubile blonde girl, who looked up at the warlord from eyes blacker than night. There was not a shred of fear in her gaze, just a dull pain, and hatred. Focusing her eyes once more on the path ahead, Xena rode on, feeling the girl's stare follow her.

I should have killed her then, came a stray thought that didn't seem to be her own. I should have killed her when I had the chance.

Her men were sorting through the debris in search of loot, but she didn't pay them any heed. She just wanted her tent, and one of those young handsome recruits to play with. Gory battles always seemed to get her juices going. She smiled coldly to herself. She could have them all. There wasn't a single man in that whole army who wouldn't die to cater to her every whim. Ah, the power! This was her calling.

NO!!!! No, it's not me, her mind protested vainly. I must wake! This is the past... I've found my way... haven't I?

The warlord turned to get another look at the girl. She was no longer there. In her place stood Gabrielle, looking at her accusingly.

"Gabrielle... I'm sorry."

The bard made no move, just continued to gaze at her.

"It's the past, don't you see? And it never happened that way, I swear..." Oh god, what am I doing...? It did happen exactly that way, and she knows it... I'm lying... oh no!

Without a word, Gabrielle turned and walked away.

"Don't go," Xena whispered, stricken. "Please forgive me. I love you, Gabrielle."

The bard turned to look at her briefly once more, shook her head, and continued to walk away silently. There was an air of finality about her stance that was unmistakable. Gabrielle would not come back.

No battle, not even the most desperate stand, could have unsettled the mighty warlord. But now, she just slumped in her saddle, and buried her face in her hands.

"Pitiful, just pitiful."

The all-too-familiar, grating voice behind her and the sudden irrational fear creeping up on her made Xena whirl in her saddle.

"You," she said flatly, stamping down on the rising panic. "It figures."

Mrtva cackled. "I am touched at how glad you are to see me, warlord. That was quite a trick you and the little brat pulled on me - you actually fooled me for a while there!"

Okay. So she knows. I should have realized she'd find out, after the way she's been intruding into my dreams... I'm losing it. I need to stay focused... have to keep her away from Gabrielle!

"What have you done to her, you bitch? I swear if you've harmed her in any way I...."

The witch's shrill laughter cut her off. "You what, silly? Just what do you think you could do to me? I've got you right where I want you, warrior. Want a demonstration?"

Moments later Xena was off her horse, backing away from the witch and gasping for breath as a wave of pure, primeval terror engulfed her out of the blue. All she wanted was to get away from this monster as far as possible. But only for the blink of an eye, before her iron will reasserted itself. With an almost physical effort she managed to stop her retreat and straightened, forcing herself to look Mrtva fully in the eye.

"You'll have to do better than that, witch," she growled.

Mrtva paused for an instant, something unreadable flashing across her face, but then she just giggled louder and clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, you are so delightfully stubborn. I haven't had this much fun in ages! It will be a pleasure feeding off you as I finish using the little wench's body for my purposes."

Suddenly the dream was over, and Mrtva was gone. Xena did not wake, but the remainder of her dreams were just ordinary nightmares.

*****

As always when riding the tall war-horse all by herself, Gabrielle felt awkward and lonely. The fact that Argo had taken one look at her and seemed to know immediately that this wasn't her accustomed rider did not make it any easier to bear. Just one long flat stare out of a big dark eye, and the mare had snorted, shaken her head, and gone back to her grazing. Well, at least in this body she was more at home on a horse than she had ever been before, and even managed to make her golden mount respond to her commands, after a few incredulously rolled eyes from the war-horse.

Now that they were on the road, faithful Argo seemed to sense the urgency, for she fairly flew across the plain, stretching powerfully under the saddle and snorting with exertion. Froth flew from her mouth in little flakes, lathering her straining shoulders.

"Good girl," the bard murmured, patting the horse's sweaty neck, "I promise I'll make this up to you somehow."

With the mare going all out and the two of them traveling through the remainder of the day and the following night, they made very good time and reached the vicinity of Mount Parnassus just before daybreak the following morning.

When she slid out of the saddle, she felt her knees buckle, and barely caught herself before she fell down. "Gods Xena, you are exhausted. What have you been doing to yourself," she murmured. Then she chuckled dryly. "Dumb question Gabrielle. You know how she gets... she must have felt pretty powerless... I'll bet that drove her up the wall with frustration. And now I went and rode the night through without allowing her to rest. Duh! Not that my body will feel any better to her." Gabrielle thought about how many times the warrior had gone for days without sleep, and had never let her fatigue show. It was a comfort to know that this body did feel it too, and a wonder to her that Xena always managed to look as if she had just had a good night's sleep.

She removed Argo's gear and gave the mare a brisk rub before she turned her loose in the meadow, going so far as to hug the arched neck. "Thank you girl," she whispered into the sweat-matted mane.

Considering briefly, Gabrielle decided that her best course of action would be to first allow this body some rest. She realized that time was short, but she could not risk going any further when walking upright and thinking straight was becoming a challenge. She spread her bedroll in a sheltered space between two rocks, removing her breastplate, boots and gauntlets but not bothering with the rest, and promptly went to sleep, her last thought being that there would be no watchful ears to guard her sleep this time. She was too drowsy to be really worried, though. Her sleep was deep and dreamless.

Waking up was nothing like she was used to. Usually, the warrior had to call her at least twice, and then she would slowly, slowly drift into a state of semi-wakefulness that enabled her to drag herself out of her bedroll and prepare some tea. On occasions, Xena had even had to use cold water to get her to stir.

It was a novel experience to be instantly awake before she had time to open her eyes. In fact, this body seemed used to lying unmoving for a few moments, eyes closed, all other senses fully alert and scanning the surroundings for threats. Gabrielle's - no, Xena's - eyes snapped open and she sat up, feeling reasonably refreshed and rested. From the position of the sun, it was early afternoon. She hadn't slept all that long, but it had done wonders.

Stretching a little to remove the kinks in her muscles, she contemplated the great mountain before her. Mount Parnassus. What a place for stories! If only she had more leisure now. But time was short. She made her way up the slope to the dwellings of the clergy, and taking advantage of her now rather imposing stature, stopped the first person she saw, a young novice.

"You," she rapped, and the girl froze, eyes wide. Gabrielle felt bad, seeing the fear in those eyes, but only for an instant. "I need to see the Head Priest."

Mutely, the girl nodded and quickly led the way to the Oracle's abode. Arriving there, she curtsied hastily and scurried away. Gabrielle had to smile. Now she knew what it felt like to strike fear into people just by looking at them. It felt... nice, she decided with a wicked little chuckle.

The cleft in the rock that was the source of the Oracle's wisdom was quiescent today, and only a tiny wisp of the intoxicating fumes could be seen snaking up from the depths. The Pythia's seat on top of it was unoccupied.

The Head Priest was there, greeting her. "Xena. It's been a while. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?" His lips quirked a little, leaving Gabrielle unsure about how exactly he meant those words. She let the question pass.

Thinking quickly, she decided to keep her little secret for now. Putting on her best intimidating warrior voice, she said, "I need something from you."

The Priest raised an eyebrow. "The Warrior Princess needing advice from the Oracle?"

Getting smart with me, huh? You'd better watch it, man... "It's not advice I'm looking for. I need the Mirror of Phantasos."

The priest's jaw fell open at her words. Regaining his composure, he said haughtily, "what makes you think I will give that to you?"

Gabrielle drew herself up, putting on a menacing glare, and watched the man flinch. This was fun! However, she thought that maybe bullying wasn't the right tactics with this high-ranking clergyman. She took a breath, and said evenly, "There is trouble abroad. I can only fix it if I have that mirror." She did not take her eyes off the priest's, who in turn appraised her with outward calm. Quietly, fervently, she added, "this is very important," and willed the warrior's intense blue gaze to do the rest.

It was a long time before the priest spoke, and the silence began to weigh heavily on the bard, though she knew for certain that it didn't show in that calm warrior's face. "I never liked you," he said bluntly, "but from what I've heard, you've turned around. And you know, looking at you, I can almost believe it."

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow.

"However," the priest continued, "I can't help you with this."

The second eyebrow joined the first.

"Not because I don't want to." From his tone Gabrielle couldn't tell if he did want to, either. "The Mirror is no longer here. We think it has been stolen."

"Stolen? When was that?"

"Oh, maybe three or four weeks ago. One morning the door to the chamber where it's kept was ajar, and the Mirror was gone. The funny thing is, there are quite a few valuable objects in that room, but nothing else has been taken."

"Any trace of the thief?"

"Well, a novice has been missing since. Very peculiar, that." He shook his head absent-mindedly.

"Why's that?"

The priest frowned in puzzlement. "You see, this young girl had broken her leg a while back. She used a crutch to help her walk. We found the lower half of that crutch - severed with such a clean cut that I can't imagine what kind of a blade could have made it. This was tough wood - a sword or some such would have left the edges frayed. Nobody has been able to figure it out."

"How much do you know about the Mirror?"

The priest gave her another considering look, before answering. "It was given into the care of this temple long before my time. The priests and priestesses here have been closely guarding the fact of its very existence ever since. All we know about it is that it is somehow connected to the Realm of Dreams, and that it is very dangerous." He paused and looked suspiciously at the warrior before him. "Just how did you learn of the Mirror's existence?"

Gabrielle shrugged, feeling the muscles of her back rippling under her leathers with the movement. "Call it a freak accident."

The answer did not seem to satisfy the priest, but he made no further comment. Gabrielle was anxious to leave, chafing at the delay this was causing her. She thanked the priest curtly and made her good-byes, glaring at a few servants and novices for good measure as she made her way back down the mountain. Watching them scatter before her made her feel better. Marginally.

"Well, seems I'm going to Tartarus after all," she told Argo as she strapped their gear onto the mare's back. "Can't say I'm all that thrilled."

*****

Xena was shocked to see how exhausted this body really was. Gabrielle even seemed to be running a slight fever.

Well, first things first. I'd better take good care of this body. Wouldn't want to give it back in bad shape. So I guess I'd better go easy until I figure out a way out of this. And it seems she's not feeding you as she should either...

She had just woken up from a deep sleep that had somehow been more exhausting than anything. She knew there had been a Warlord Dream, but the memory was fuzzy. That's weird, she mused. All the others are still in my memory as if they had happened moments ago... I know this one was by far the most terrifying, somehow, but... Gods, I'm slipping. This isn't good. I just hope Gabrielle is able to keep her wits together better. She has to!

Scanning the surroundings before moving or even opening her eyes the way she was used to was a chore. This body had never been one to wake easily, and with the fever and the ordeals it appeared to have gone through, it felt more like a boneless lump of wet clay than anything else.

But she managed, and discovered to her faint relief that she was apparently alone. Relief that turned quickly into apprehension as she ran the possibilities through her mind as to what the witch might be doing, and to whom. The warrior hoped Mrtva wouldn't be able to find Gabrielle's dreams the way she found hers.

Now that she was here in the body of her best friend, the idea of switching bodies did not seem so brilliant anymore. She would have to relearn a lot of things until she would be able to fight the way she could when in her own body. She doubted if she would have enough time for that.

She was now essentially helpless, being forced to just stay put and hope for somebody to get her out. That chafed, even - or perhaps especially - if that someone was the woman she loved and trusted. There was no doubt in her mind that Gabrielle was even now finding a way to come for her. At least Gabrielle now had a powerful body with lightning reflexes. Not that it had done Xena much good so far against Mrtva.

Gods I need to stop this fretting! I'm sure she'll be fine. Mrtva never did seem to have the same effect on her that she had on me. Now what I should do is probably try and get every minute of sleep that I can. If only Mrtva... A loud rumble in her stomach told her Gabrielle's body did not fully agree. She could not suppress a weak chuckle. Oh yeah. And food. I could have thought of that.

Food, however, was nowhere to be found, and so she settled down as comfortably as the pebbly ground allowed, and forced herself to calm. A nagging fear of what dreams awaited her this time kept her awake, though.

*****

"Gods, Xena, how do you put up with all this stuff?" Gabrielle muttered as she struggled with a buckle of the armor that had come undone. It was on her back, and the scabbard and sword kept swinging around in the most annoying fashion, pushing the catch out of the reach of her struggling fingers just when she was about to snap it closed.

A faint blush crept to her ears as she remembered the foolish maneuver that had brought this about. Feeling incredibly energetic all of a sudden and light-headed with lack of sleep, she had attempted to vault into the saddle after a brief stop for a drink, the way Xena did it all the time. This body remembered the move well enough, but her mind had barged in and tried to control the action, and she had ended up jumping straight over Argo's back, scraping her back against the saddle and loosing the catch in the process. What was more, the bump against the horse's side had added to her forward momentum, sending her stumbling forward onto her knees and drawing a disapproving snort and an angrily rolled eye from a prancing mare.

"I swear this has got to be the most annoying piece of junk the world has ever seen," she ranted and tugged at the breastplate in hopes of pulling the offending buckle within her reach. Argo tossed her head and laid her ears back.

"How did you ever manage before I was there to help you with those?" That gave her pause. Her mood dropped a few notches, and while she lost herself in dark and fearful fantasies of what Mrtva might be doing to her beloved just now, her hands absently slipped around to her back from another angle and effortlessly snapped the catch into place.

Shaking her head and staring at her hands in puzzled wonder, she mounted Argo in a more sedate manner and covered the last few leagues to the gorge that would lead her into Hades' Realm.

The crack that she had been directed to was more like a thin cleft in a rocky region just north of the route that had led her to the temple. At its end it was about half a pace thick, broadening towards its center only to narrow again at the far end a dozen paces away. Noxious fumes rose thinly, and an unnatural heat wafted from the crack. There was a clear space around it where nothing grew and even the dusty ground seemed duller than elsewhere.

"Well, that certainly looks inviting," Gabrielle told Argo as she slid out of the saddle, mindful of that buckle. She contemplated the fissure. It looked just the right width for her to work her way down bracing herself against the walls on both sides. But she could not see the bottom, and that made her a little uneasy. The length of rope Argo carried was not even going to reach halfway down.

She picked up a pebble and dropped it inside. Cocked her head and listened intently. Moments passed. Nothing. She tried again with a larger pebble, with the same result. She swallowed hard and took a shuddering breath.

"Oh, lovely. Juust lovely. I know Xena does this all the time..." she chuckled wryly, "so I guess I'd be strong enough. And if anything goes wrong here... She will just have to make do with my body... I guess she got the short end of THAT deal... ha ha ha... I'm not really being very funny, huh Argo?" The addressed party waggled an ear and shook her head. The bard preferred not to think about what would happen to Xena if something did go wrong.

"Okay girl, you wait here until I get back, okay?" She kept talking to Argo as she relieved the golden horse of her gear, gave her a thorough rubdown and turned her loose to graze. The gear she hid away as best as she could between the large rocks that lay scattered around the area.

That done, the bard checked to see if the chakram was securely fastened, removed the sword and scabbard from her back as it would hinder her on the climb down, and tied it to her waist instead. She crouched down by the crevice. Steeling herself, Gabrielle scooted forward on her backside until she could swing her legs over the edge, and peered down once more at the sheer walls of the cleft curving down into dark, fathomless depths.

"Gods Xena, I hope I can do this... You know I'm terrified of heights, don't you? And I'm not too comfortable in tight spaces either..." She sighed. "This should be a piece of nutbread. Let's go before I have time to change my mind!" A sudden image of herself caught by Mrtva's dark magic and putting that knife to her wrist just before the body switch took place, however, made her forget every thought about changing her mind. Bracing her arms and legs against one of the sheer walls and her back against the other, she started her slow descent down into the bottomless gorge, bug style.

"Well, so far it's been easy," she murmured once when she took a break wedged firmly between the two planes of rock. She was barely out of breath, even though the crack of light from above was now only a tiny slit to her eyes. There was something to be said for regular exercises, she decided. The bard resolved never to gripe again when Xena seemed to go overboard with her daily drills.

As the day wore on, the light from above became obliterated by the oppressing darkness of the chasm, with no trace of any bottom in sight. Still Gabrielle doggedly descended into the depths. One way or the other, she was going to Tartarus. The heat was steadily increasing, and soon the bard in the warrior's body had to concede that her limbs did seem to feel a little numb and tired, and hot. Presently, the bard became aware of a soft red glow coming from somewhere far below. The heat was stifling now, and with it came a sulfuric stink that threatened to overpower Gabrielle's senses.

Even more disconcerting, the distance between the walls that the bard had been so nicely braced against seemed to be widening gradually. If this continued, very soon she would not have enough leverage to hold herself in place. Experimenting, she tried to crawl back up a little distance, which worked fine. Her relief lasted only until she realized that going up was much harder than going down, and that she would never make it back to the top.

With a sinking feeling, Gabrielle contemplated her choices. She could try climbing back up, and would with reasonable certainty end up plummeting into the depths. She could continue to ease her way down, and if she was lucky, the walls would not go too far apart for her to hold on to, but she would probably slip soon because she was rapidly weakening, so she would probably end up plummeting into the depths. Or the distance between the walls could broaden to the point where she could no longer hold on, and she would end up plummeting into the depths.

Which, she mused, was where she wanted to go anyway, and as fast as possible. No sense in wasting any more of her precious energy, or time, right? The Underworld was down there somewhere, and it would matter little which state she was in when she got there. Unable to think clearly with the suffocating fumes and the heat and her weakness, what she did next seemed to be the logical decision.

She relaxed her leg muscles, giving up her hold, and let herself plummet into the depths.

*****

The one who called herself Mrtva was not pleased. Not only had the pure soul she so desperately needed been whisked away from her, but this trick the warrior had pulled on her seemed to have somehow weakened her grasp on Xena's dark soul. She hoped the warrior had not noticed how close she had come to overpowering Mrtva in that last dream. She would have to be more careful around the stubborn bitch in the future.

She released her hold on the young man whose dreams she had invaded. There wasn't much to be had here. He was a weakling. She snickered at the memory of his reaction when the object of his erotic fantasies had suddenly turned into a putrid corpse and reached out a rotting hand to tear his heart from his chest. She had not let him wake, but soaked up his fear greedily, along with most of his sanity as she took him spiraling deeper into her intricately crafted nightmare. He hadn't quite died, but his mind was sucked dry. He would never think a coherent thought again.

Wiping her mouth after feeding was just a mannerism, but the one who called herself Mrtva found strange glee in the gesture. It was so very human. She was not nearly sated. But not to worry. There was half a world full of sleepers, just dying for her to come to their dreams. She cackled hysterically at her own wit. Literally dying for her! Yes!

And when the time came, she would tear that warrior's mind to shreds so small there wouldn't be anything left for Hades to send to Tartarus. The mighty Warrior Princess would float in eternal nonexistence, never to be born again. Served her right for thwarting Mrtva's plans!

But first, to find the little runaway bard and make her hers once more... this time, for good.

Her mad laughter echoed through the Realm of Dreams and startled Morpheus from his sleep for a second. He looked around groggily, shrugged, and promptly went back to sleep.

*****

By midday Xena was sure she would go crazy. The immobility that came with the slight fever and being effectively kept prisoner in this cavern, and the fact that she had no idea where either Mrtva or her beloved bard were, threatened to blast her tenuous hold on sanity to smithereens. She had tried getting up and pacing nervously, but this body had soon protested with aching muscles and dizziness. So she had laid back down on the hard ground, feeling light-headed, and counted the drops of water dripping from the stalactite overhead onto her thigh.

At count three hundred fifty-six, she caught herself chewing fingernails, and mentally slapped herself as she contemplated the destruction her teeth had worked on the bard's slender fingers. A good thing Gabrielle didn't play the harp the way some other bards did!

Deciding that the cavern's walls were entirely too close for comfort, the warrior turned bard made her way to the mouth of the cave where the mid-afternoon sun shone brightly and much hotter than she was used to. She sat down in the opening overlooking the strange outlandish landscape, and hugged her knees. Head resting against the sandstone wall at her back, she closed her eyes and let the sun's rays warm her.

She could not continue this way. If she could not find something worthwhile to do, she was sure she would end up throwing herself down into the depths of the canyon. She let her eyes wander over the bizarre rock formations around her. Trying to climb out of this place was not an option in her present state, but it couldn't hurt to memorize the general layout of her surroundings. It kept her occupied for about two candlemarks. By then she knew every twist and turn of the winding canyon below, and every outcrop of rock or arching natural bridge within her line of sight, as if they were old friends.

A few of the rock formations looked like people, and she found herself actually giving names to some of them - the Gossips, for three high pillars reminiscent of three women in dresses talking; the Cook, because that one made her think of the rather fat man that used to help out her mother at the Inn; Mylady, complete with a fancy hat. One she dubbed the Bard, for the red-gold color of the topmost layer of rock where the head would be. Then she realized what she was doing.

With a frustrated little growl, she started banging her head lightly against the rock behind her in a slow steady rhythm. She did not stop until little stars began dancing before her eyes. Do something. Do something. It couldn't be that hard.

Well, there was something she could do, though the idea made her shiver uncontrollably with cold terror. Mrtva was out there somewhere, quite possibly looking for Gabrielle. There was a chance that the witch would come to Xena in her dreams - if she went to sleep. Or maybe Xena could even find a way to actively seek her out. If she could keep Mrtva occupied, perhaps Gabrielle would be safe from the witch. It was worth a try. So, shoving her fear down as far as it would go - which wasn't very far, to be honest - Xena resolutely shifted to a more comfortable position, and closed her eyes. Confident that she was doing something to help her friend, she managed to go to sleep quickly despite the residual fear that still gnawed at her heart.

Chapter VII : Mirror

"What in My name were you trying to pull off here, Xena?" a male voice asked dangerously.

The tall woman groaned. Everything was dark. She could not make out where she was, but from the way she was hurting all over she deduced that she must be alive. Though how that was possible, she couldn't begin to fathom.

She seemed to by lying on her back on a smooth, hard surface that was just a tad too hot to be truly comfortable.

"I can't see," she croaked past a throat that was swollen tight from dehydration.

"Try opening your eyes," the voice said without much sympathy.

"Oh." Blue eyes flickered open, and blinked a few times to try and work some moisture back into them. She was parched.

"Could I have a drink of water?" she rasped, still trying to bring her surroundings into focus. All she could make out was a soft reddish light, and the silhouette of a tall figure looming over her.

"As a matter of fact, you can't," the voice boomed. "Not unless you answer My question, warrior."

"Whaaa... Hades!" The figure before her finally came clear. She scrambled to a sitting position, and winced as her aching body protested the movement. Her head felt stuffed with wool, and she could not form the words for a reply.

"Well?" Hades crossed his arms in front of his chest and continued to glare at her.

Ah yes. She had it now. Trying to save Xena, who had traded bodies with her, that's what she was doing. She cleared her throat before speaking. Swallowing was painful. "I came down here because I need to talk to you. I'm not... um... I mean, am I dead?"

Hades chucked mirthlessly. "Hardly. My harpies snatched you out of the air or you would still be falling. There is absolutely no way I'm going to put up with you in my realm before your time is here!"

"I'm sure Xena has no intention of joining you there anytime soon," Gabrielle said heatedly.

"Xena has no intention...?" Hades squinted at her. "You're not Xena, are you? You're that little redhead bard! How did you get in there?" His gesture took in the warrior's body sitting before him.

"Blond. And it's a long story," Gabrielle said. Seeing his scowl, she quickly amended, "I'll make it quick." She proceeded to give him a brief outline of the latest events, including Nyx's little trick and the bard's failed attempt to get hold of a Mirror of Phantasos on Mount Parnassus, and her subsequent journey down the bottomless crevice.

"And now you want mine," Hades surmised.

"That... uh... was sort of the idea, yes," Gabrielle said tentatively.

"Do you know that this thing is extremely dangerous?" When Gabrielle nodded slightly, he continued. "And so is the Realm of Dreams, if you don't keep your wits about you. Especially for people with a creative mind and an imagination as vivid as yours." He snorted. "I'm sure that warrior would have a lot less trouble where that is concerned."

"Why, I think I've just been complimented," the bard said with a small grin, not quite daring to call down a god for slighting her friend.

Hades gave her a tightlipped smile. "Be that as it may. In any case, if it's the Mirror you want, as far as I'm concerned, you can have it. And good riddance!"

It took a few moments for the words to sink in. "I can.... you mean, you're giving it to me? Just like that?"

"That is what I'm doing." He nodded gravely.

"But why? Aren't you supposed to make a big fuss and get all worked up about how mortals can't be trusted with that kind of power, and shouldn't be allowed any artifacts this unpredictable - something like that?"

Hades shrugged. It was hard to tell if he was still smiling, or just baring his teeth at the bard. He reminded Gabrielle of a little boy told by his mother to apologize for stealing nutbread. There was no time to be puzzled at his strange behavior, however.

"Just take the damned thing and find that... creature, " he growled sullenly. He snapped his fingers, and a hand mirror much like the one Mrtva had used appeared in his hand. The frame was made of the same dark wood, and the same shimmering, dark sort of eye-shaped stone was embedded in the leather-wrapped handle. Instead of the bird's claws and batwings she had seen on the other one, however, this one was wreathed with what looked like fins and squid tentacles. The eyeballs were there, though, looking almost lifelike in their carved relief. Looking slightly nauseated, Hades held it away from his body as if afraid it might jump him.

Gabrielle gulped as she gingerly accepted the artifact from him. The mirror was strangely cold to the touch, and seemed slightly sticky for some reason. She experienced a strange warble when she brought it up to get a better look, as if the thing somehow resisted being moved in a certain way. When she tried to turn it over to look at the back, she couldn't. Apparently it could be moved around freely in all directions, even turned upside down sideways, but the surface of the mirror refused to change its orientation. She put it on the ground, and it sat there on one edge, the flat side still upright.

"How weird," she murmured as she picked it up again. Her fascination and curiosity outweighed her trepidation for the moment, as she continued to experiment.

"'Weird' doesn't begin to describe it," Hades put in dryly, watching the bard turned warrior yank and pull trying to twist the mirror around, but to no avail.

"A little impractical when trying to carry it, isn't it? I guess I should be glad it's so small." The bard chuckled a little nervously.

"Well, just see that you put matters back in order, will you?" He paused and gave her another smile, this one looking genuine, for a wonder. "And try to get your own body back, okay? I like it better on you."

He chuckled as he watched the blush creep up her neck. "Be careful, little bard," he said. The next moment, Gabrielle was alone.

"Now what made him say that," she murmured to herself, shaking her head in puzzlement as she contemplated the magical device in her hands. If one didn't put into account the fact that it wouldn't fall over no matter what, the thing looked just like an ordinary handmirror, albeit a singularly ugly one. Its surface was slightly dulled, and Gabrielle somehow could not quite bring her own image into focus - as if the mirror refused to yield a clear rendition of anything within the Waking world.

"Well, now that I got you, I guess I might as well get this over with," she told the mirror. "And the fact that I'm talking to you at all is indication enough that I'm losing my marbles," she added as an afterthought.

Remembering Nyx's instructions, she sat the mirror on the ground before her, and gingerly poked a finger at its smooth face.

With a metallic buzz and a great big whoosh, the little mirror expanded outward and upward to form into a portal similar to the one that Mrtva had used to abduct her. The carvings around the frame seemed to have somehow come alive, the tentacles writhing in a slimy, reddish tangle, while the naked eyeballs were riveted on her, swiveling to follow her every move. Gabrielle shuddered.

"And I'm supposed to touch that in order to close the portal? Ugh! Just lovely," she muttered with a distasteful look at the pulsating mass.

Looking through the gruesome frame, Gabrielle could see the chamber she stood in through a haze of swirling colorful translucent mists. It was hard to believe that just walking through this would put her in a different world.

Taking a breath, she drew Xena's sword, though what good it would do her she could not begin to imagine. "Okay, here goes," she said resolutely. "Hang in there, Xena, I'm coming!"

With a silent prayer to whatever God might be listening, the bard stepped through to the other side.

*****

If going to sleep had been relatively easy, seeking out the witch proved to be somewhat more of a challenge than Xena had anticipated. The more she tried to will herself into the warlord dream, the more it evaded her, leaving her in frustratingly banal dreams of fishing, hunting, and shopping, of all things. In one dream, however, she was holding Gabrielle in her arms and kissing her deeply, both of them restored to their own bodies. Though more than half afraid the bard would turn into that infernal Mrtva again, the experience was nevertheless sweet, and left her feeling strangely empty, and deprived.

Before she could dwell on how much she missed her little bard, she found herself in another dreamscape, unable to break out of her normal sleep though aware in the back of her mind that she had to, somehow, that there was something she was supposed to do. But then again, it probably wasn't important.

This one took her back to her past, to a time long before, when another woman, however briefly she had known her, had made such a difference in her life. Lao Ma, who had so easily seen through the tangle of hatred and bitterness that had grown around the warrior's heart, who had seen what Xena could be rather than what she was. That woman had saved more than just Xena's life, and there was a debt engraved forever in the dark warrior's soul.

Visions of her exotic-looking mentor faded and gave way to a dreary, empty-looking landscape. It took the warrior a while to realize what it was exactly what made this place seem so depressing. The sky was a gray, drab color without any clouds nor sun visible. Though a little different in hue, the ground was just as nondescript. Except for herself, the area seemed completely devoid of life. Not even a trace of moss or lichen showed on the brittle rocks and pebbles that were strewn all around. And over the scene lay a silence so complete that the blood rushing through Xena's ears sounded like a raging torrent.

A small step, an impossibly loud crunch of gravel under her feet, and she suddenly knew that this was the warlord dream, or at least a variant of it. By stopping to want to get here, she had finally arrived.

*****

A weirdly chilling sensation that raised goose bumps on her skin was all Gabrielle felt when she passed through the Mirror of Phantasos. The surroundings had not changed one bit, and she was beginning to doubt whether the mirror had worked for her at all. Hadn't Nyx mentioned that it was different for every person who tried to use it? Maybe it needed some sort of incantation or ingredient to make it work?

She did notice, however, that from this side, the mists in the portal were opaque and she could not see what lay beyond. When she walked around it to look at its other face, the picture was the same - she could not see the other side.

Cautiously, she touched her hand to the surface, and it passed through with only the faintest resistance. She followed with her head. Hades' chamber lay beyond, unchanged.

"Well, so far, it has been a blast," she murmured as she withdrew from the portal. Grimacing, the bard carefully touched her finger to the writhing mass that was the mirror's frame, after making sure no body parts were still in the portal. The same metallic buzz accompanied the closing of the portal as it shimmered more brightly before drawing itself together to become the small hand mirror once more.

"Now, to figure out how I'm going to get where I'm going." Gabrielle tucked the mirror into her pouch, marveling again at its steadfast refusal to change orientation, and set about finding her way out of Hades' chamber. She still wasn't entirely sure that this was really the Realm of Dreams, since it looked no different from the place she had come from. Yet it did feel somehow different, as if the surroundings were somehow less than substantial. When she rapped her knuckles against the smooth floor, however, it felt solid enough.

Gabrielle stood there for a while, uncertain how to proceed. Xena would still be in that strange and beautiful canyon, up in that cave. But the bard had no clue where that was.

Well, first, she had to get out of here. She was willing to bet that Xena was chewing rocks by now, being confined up there and unable to really do anything. She just hoped the ritual Mrtva had been about to conduct had not harmed her warrior friend.

She took a step forward, and felt a wave of dizziness as suddenly her surroundings blurred. After a sort of wrench deep in her gut she suddenly found herself standing on an empty, colorless plain that stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. If the plain was devoid of color, the sky above was even more so, a dull, watery gray.

Gabrielle looked around, not daring to take another step before she had figured out where the first one had taken her, and why.

Well, at least now I know for sure this isn't the real world," she murmured, and winced at the sound of her own voice, strangely distorted by the surrounding emptiness and impossibly loud in her ears.

The bard considered. Apparently, the rules that applied in the Waking World had little or no meaning here. Whatever had brought her to this Gods-forsaken place in one step should be able to take her to that sandstone canyon, where Mrtva was, and Xena. And if Hades' chamber was any indication, the portal would take her to that same place in the Waking World when she activated it. Well, that was the theory.

Since talking to herself seemed to help her thinking, she did so, but in a tiny whisper to reduce the weird echo.

"Okay, Gabrielle, this is a place of dreams. 'Be careful what you dream there', Nyx said. Well it figures. Dreams and thoughts must have a lot more impact than in the Waking World. Now what was I thinking about when I took that step? Zeus strike me down, but I can't say... That canyon? Possible. Xena?" She chuckled softly. "Probable. Mrtva?"

Then she slapped her forehead, producing another eerily loud sound. "Oh, I'm such an idiot! I can still sense the woman, can't I? It's weaker now, but it's still there. Only now I really can't point a finger at her at all... it's as if she's all around me... kind of scary."

Murmuring to herself, Gabrielle tried to focus on that sick feeling in her gut that had pointed her straight to the witch's location ever since that vile ceremony. She was still focused inward, when something scraping across the ground caught her ears, and she turned towards the sound.

Her eyes widened as her hand instinctively reached for Xena's sword.

*****

It was hard to tell how Xena knew this was no ordinary dream. But the very knowledge seemed to give her some limited conscious control over it. She had suspected this during her last dream encounter with Mrtva, but had not had a chance to experiment then. Mrtva, on the other hand, seemed strangely at home invading and manipulating other people's dreams. An innate power? Or simply her strength of will? A combination of both?

Xena certainly wasn't lacking in willpower. So, if she willed something to happen, would it? What she did lack, however, was imagination. What could happen in a place that was this desperately empty and void of life? Anything, of course. Then why was her mind as empty as this plain? Would you look at me? Standing here unable to think of anything at all! I bet Gabrielle would get a good laugh out of this. She is probably having kittens trying to get to me at this moment...

Abruptly, she fell forward, losing her balance. She landed smoothly on hands that were hands no longer, but large, black, furry paws. Momentarily disoriented, she tried to get back to her feet, only to find that she couldn't. Her center of gravity was somehow wrong for walking upright.

Lifting one paw - a paw??? - she flexed it experimentally, watching in fascination as a set of wicked, curved claws emerged and disappeared again. A cat, she thought incredulously, I've turned into some sort of cat. That was her last coherent thought, for suddenly some wild, feral instinct took over, smothering the human and freeing the beast within. Confused and disoriented, the Huntress was now more dangerous than ever. And hungry.

Falling into an easy, ground-eating lope, the black panther made her way across the plain, in search of a familiar scent burned into her memory. She must find.

*****

The one who called herself Mrtva cackled softly. Stupid warrior! She had gotten herself into quite a fix there. It had only taken a tiny little nudge to make that dark, primeval side surface after Xena had turned into the cat. In that shape, Xena herself had been unconsciously convinced of her dangerous, feral nature. Mrtva had only helped her a little in making it real. It was quite easy for her here.

The beauty of it was that Xena would still be this way when she woke up, a mindless predator, unless she figured out a way out of this. This made the being laugh out loud. In her present state, Xena wouldn't be able to figure out anything beyond hunting down prey, and killing. She functioned purely on instinct, now.

What a fitting revenge on both the warrior, and that silly little chit, for ruining her plans! And Mrtva still would be able to feed off that powerful mind that was the warrior.

And now for the bard.

*****

Reaching for the sword on her back, Gabrielle's hand closed on empty air. With a start she became aware that she seemed to be back in her own body, wearing her skirt and top instead of the leathers she had almost grown accustomed to. As soon as she realized she was herself again, her staff appeared in her hands as she nervously faced the shape that was approaching in the distance, moving in a lumbering, ungraceful gait.

From what she could make out, it must be enormous. It seemed to walk hunched over, and it had three - three for Zeus' sake! - legs that appeared to have a joint too much, somehow. Its spidery arms - two of them, it appeared - looked awkward, as if they were somehow attached backwards. They ended in writhing tentacles. There was no neck to speak of, and its head seemed to consist mostly of a mouth in the shape of a giant suction cup.

"This is only a dream," Gabrielle told herself firmly. "I'm in the Realm of Dreams, what else could it be?" But her hands fingered her staff nervously, grateful for its familiar and quite real wooden surface.

As the grotesque form shambled closer, the bard blinked. She could have sworn she had gotten a good look at it before. But now, it did not look like a monster at all, but definitely human. Her heart skipped a beat. In fact, it looked like...

"Xena!"

The staff dropped from suddenly uncaring hands. Gabrielle's jaw went slack. Had she bothered to look down, she would have seen one staff vanish into thin air before it hit the ground. As it was, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the Warrior Princess, who was steadily approaching in that long, confident stride that somehow managed to make her look even taller than she already was. The leathers and armor combined with the easy grace with which she moved only added to the sense of calm menace that emanated from her.

She was easily the most beautiful thing that could possibly have appeared here at this moment!

Still not daring to take a step - now less than ever! - for fear it would whisk her away to some other place like the last one had, the bard waited with questionable patience for the warrior to reach her.

Xena, on the other hand, seemed in no particular hurry, but did not dawdle either. A cocked eyebrow and a half-smile was all the expression on her face when she finally stepped up to Gabrielle.

"Oh, Xena, am I glad to see you," Gabrielle blurted. "There I thought there was no way in Tartarus I'd be able to find you in this place, and then - just like that - there you are! I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you. This place gives me the creeps. Are you okay? How come you can move around here in this way? It seems as soon as I take a step, it whisks me away to some totally different place. I wish I could figure out how things work here."

Then she did a double take. "Waitaminute... you are real, aren't you? You're not just something I'm dreaming? And you're... you? You're awful quiet, even for you...."

The eyebrow twitched.

"Well, it's not like you've been giving me half a chance to get a word in," Xena said wryly.

"Um, well," the bard said sheepishly. "So, are you?"

"Am I... what?"

"Real. And yourself."

Xena smiled. "Gabrielle, who else would I be but myself? I've been looking for you. I'm so glad you're safe."

Gabrielle gave her a quizzical look. "Well, I'd hardly say we're safe, Xena. But I sure am glad we're together now. Anyway, how did you get here? What happened to Mrtva? Are you here physically?"

The blue eyes narrowed for an instant. "What do you mean, 'physically'? I'm asleep, I suppose, and my dreams took me here. I know I'll probably be dreaming about you right now, anyways." She flashed a grin.

Gabrielle found herself blushing faintly at the implication. "A pity, though. If you were here in the body, too, we could get the Tartarus out of here and try to get our own bodies back in the Waking World. And Mrtva... what?"

Xena was staring intently at her, an unreadable look flashing across her features. "You're here in the body? How in Morpheus' name did you..."

She suddenly whirled, at the same time as Gabrielle became aware of a dark shape moving on the edge of her vision. Before she had time to react, a huge black panther leaped snarling in between the two women. White fangs gleamed wickedly as the feline's steel blue gaze went from one to the other, calculating where to direct its first attack.

Xena's sword came out of its sheath with a metallic swish as the warrior took her battle stance. The blade twirled in her hand in a blinding pattern that immediately drew the panther's attention.

Apparently deciding that the warrior posed the greater threat, the huge cat suddenly flung itself at Xena, hissing and spitting. For all her intimidating display of prowess, it was all the Warrior Princess could do to stay mostly clear of those sharp claws and teeth. Once the cat did score a major hit, however, tearing four long, deep gashes into the tall woman's thigh.

At the sight of the injury, Gabrielle blinked. Though gaping wide and showing pulsating muscle underneath, not a trickle of blood appeared. Only a yellowish, translucent fluid trickled down the warrior's leg. Also, Xena never missed a beat as the wicked claws ripped into her flesh. While the bard was accustomed to her tough friend showing little pain, she had never seen her so completely ignore a wound of this gravity.

Hey, it's the Realm of Dreams, Gabrielle, she reminded herself, and she's only dreaming. It makes perfect sense for her not to feel any real pain... Then why did it make the bard so uneasy?

There was little time to dwell on this, however, for she saw that Xena was having extreme difficulties in fending off the panther. The cat was exceptionally large and agile, and seemed to know Xena's next move before the warrior herself did. Even after several lunges with her sword, the tall woman had barely even scratched the animal's hide. Some distant part of Gabrielle's mind wondered about that, but she was too caught up in the action before her to give it much attention.

It was mesmerizing to behold, cat and woman feinting and circling, with the panther slowly but steadily gaining the upper hand. Gabrielle watched breathlessly, unsure if she should intervene. Generally, Xena did not appreciate the bard getting within range of her sword when she was in a fight.

It was when the dark feline managed to pull the warrior into a tight hug and started raking with its hind feet that Gabrielle decided to take action. As if by magic, her staff sprang into her hands from out of nowhere. Approaching the pair that was now rolling in the dust, she whacked the panther smartly between the shoulder blades, barely jumping clear before it twisted around and whipped a paw out at her with blinding speed.

Before Xena could take advantage of being momentarily released from that deadly embrace, the cat had turned its attention back to raking the warrior's gut. It had somehow managed to pin Xena's sword arm to her body, so that all the dark woman could do was to pummel the cat's ribcage with her left fist. That, however, had little effect beyond angering the enraged cat further.

There was nothing for it - the bard took aim, gathered all her strength, and delivered a huge blow to the cat's skull. There was a sickening crack, and the feline's pupils dilated, before its body went limp. The warrior slid out from between suddenly lifeless paws and slowly straightened herself. For a moment Gabrielle thought she had seen a red glow in Xena's blue eyes, but she was certain that the weird light of this place must have been deceiving her.

"Well," the warrior said slowly, dusting herself off, "that was... educational." At Gabrielle's incredulous stare, she added, "never underestimate the fury of a wild beast. Or the protectiveness of a little bard." She seemed to find that excruciatingly funny, for she doubled over with helpless laughter.

"Thank you, Gabrielle, I owe you my life," Gabrielle murmured to herself. "Oh, you're welcome, Xena, that's what friends are for, right?"

Aloud she said, "What's so funny, Xena? That thing could have killed you! Are you... hurt badly?" While the warrior's leathers were shredded to bits, there was no blood on her. The bard glanced at the panther, who lay there with eyes glazed and staring. She rubbed her arms against a sudden chill.

"Nah," the other woman said cockily, "I assure you I had everything under control." She was still chuckling to herself.

"Yeah, right. You're acting strangely, Xena.... You're scaring me."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm a dream. I'm not supposed to make any sense, you know."

Gabrielle eyed her doubtfully. "No, I suppose you aren't." She rubbed her nose, thinking. After a pause she said, "You know, um, Xena, this sort of reminds me of the time when you had too much of that nutbread and started talking to rocks and stuff." She laughed shakily. "You acted almost as weird then."

Xena guffawed. "Oh, yeah, I remember! I'm sure that must have been something to see."

Gabrielle felt faint as the truth hit her. Her hands closed around her staff. "You're not Xena."

Blue eyes widened briefly. "What makes you say that, Gabrielle?"

"It wasn't Xena, it was me who ate the nutbread with the henbane. It's the one story Xena always insists on telling herself, especially when she's had one ale too many. You, obviously, didn't know that."

"Gabrielle, I..."

"No, the game is over. Tell me who you are, or I swear to Zeus I'm going to split your skull with that staff!"

"Ah, my dear bard, but the game has hardly even begun." 'Xena' spread her arms wide, a red glow springing into her eyes. This time, there was no mistaking it for a trick of the light. "Go on, hit me! Use your staff!" Mad laughter echoed all around them.

Something shifted. Suddenly the staff started to writhe in Gabrielle's grasp. She looked down at it, and found that she held a large, live snake in her hands! With a yelp, she flung the reptile from her, much to Mrtva's amusement. For it was none other than her that suddenly stood there in place of the warrior.

"You! I should have known."

"Well, it seems your wits went out the door when the warrior came in the window, didn't they? It was so easy to make you believe. You're just as hot for her as she is for you, aren't you?"

"Keep your filthy talk to yourself, witch. You'd better be ready, because I'm coming for you."

"Oh, but you're unaware of one thing: This," Mrtva took in the scene around her with her arms, "is my realm. You are only a visitor here. I don't know how you did it, but since you were foolish enough to come here in the flesh, you are now more firmly in my power than you were before."

Gabrielle retreated a few steps, tripping over one of the panther's legs and barely catching herself before she fell.

"Sooo, wench, you don't look so sure of yourself now, do you?" Mrtva cackled. "I'm sure your reunion with that warrior brute would have been so heartwarming. But alas, it is not to be."

"Then where is Xena?" Gabrielle demanded.

Mrtva's laughter became a hysterical screech. "Whose skull do you think you just cracked, twerp?"

Gabrielle stared at the prone form of the panther, stricken. Could it be true? "Gods, no," she whispered.

"I guess I'll leave you two to your chatter now," Mrtva said evilly. "Meanwhile, I think I have a bard's body to play with." With that, she was gone.

A wave of dizziness brought Gabrielle to the ground. Her eyes never left the panther, who still lay staring into emptiness, tongue lolling. It could not be true!

Not caring who or what could hear her, Gabrielle threw her head back and wailed.

Having vented her emotions, the bard calmed down after a while, finally able to sort through her thoughts. She heaved herself up and started pacing slowly, unaware of the loud crunch of gravel under her feet, or the fact that the scene around her did not change with each step she made.

Why should she believe a word Mrtva said? Especially after the way the witch had just made a complete fool of her? Gabrielle was being even more foolish if she allowed herself be unsettled in this way.

Could Xena really be the panther? This was the Realm of Dreams, so anything was possible. But from what Gabrielle understood, no normal person could be here physically without magical help. That must mean that, whatever shape Xena was in, she was here only in her dreams. Had she seen Gabrielle? Mrtva? What had they looked like to her? Had Xena even recognized either of them? If it truly was Xena that lay there in the dust. If you die in a dream, are you then truly dead?

She walked over to the black, motionless shape and knelt beside it. Gently, she stroked the cat's cheek. The empty, blue eyes did seem hauntingly familiar. "I have to find out." She felt her eyes sting with tears. "I'm sorry... Gods how could I...? We'll get through this. We will. You're not dead, Xena. I know it."

Getting up slowly, she knuckled the small of her back. Her body was starting to once again feel the strain of recent ordeals, and it was not happy with it. Gabrielle sighed ruefully.

And then she suddenly felt Mrtva's pull again, strong and clear. This time, there was a direction to it. "Well now, a good turn at last. Now all I have to do is find that canyon..."

The bard closed her eyes briefly, considering her options. It was frustrating how little she knew of this realm! She felt like a babe learning to walk on a length of rope spanning a chasm!

When she reopened her eyes, she cursed softly. She was balancing on a length of rope, a good ten paces away from the nearest ledge. Below her, sheer rock walls stretched down into bottomless depths.

Well, I guess I asked for that one, she thought wryly. Don't sneeze now, Gabrielle!

She had no time to curse her wandering mind before the familiar tickle in her nose set in.

"Ahh..ah.. atchoo!!"

The sound echoed weirdly along the chasm, as one bard struggled vainly, arms flailing, to regain her balance.

*****

Leagues distant, half a thought away, a panther's paw twitched.

*****

Gabrielle had always found dreams of endless falls quite exhilarating. However, she felt she had had enough falling in the last day or so to last her a lifetime! As she plummeted down into the chasm, she fingered the pouch that held the Mirror if Phantasos, feeling almost grateful for the one bit of reality and solidity it represented. Even now, the artifact stubbornly refused to change its orientation.

Thought. That's it! So obvious until I missed it until it was all but thrown into my face. I should be able to control this with my own mind... if I can control my mind, that is...

The cliff rushing by on both sides made her feel lightheaded. Also, for some reason she seemed unable to maintain her orientation, spinning slowly as she fell.

Stop.

Without transition or any force of momentum, she suddenly found herself suspended in place, feet pointing up.

"Well, whaddya know..."

Experimenting, she discovered that she was able to control her movement to a considerable extent, as long as she concentrated. As soon as she let herself be distracted in any way, she started falling again.

Well, it was a start.

*****

With consciousness slowly returning came pain. The panther's eyes fluttered shut against the too bright light as soon as her senses started functioning again. Every move of her head sent white-hot bolts of agony into her skull. So, she remained still long after both the upright ones had disappeared.

Finally, though, a deep restlessness overcame the desire to avoid the pain, and the animal stirred with a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl. Stubbornly, she heaved herself to her feet and sniffed the air.

Two scents, and one thought to go with them.

Kill.

Chapter VIII : Queen Of Aura

Before long, Gabrielle was thoroughly frustrated. She had tried forming a mental image of the canyon and the cavern, she had tried focusing on her awareness of Mrtva, and every time she had ended up in a new, weird and absurd place that looked nowhere near like where she was trying to go.

At one time, the bard had found herself under water, forests of tall, thin-stalked plants swaying gently all around her, large, colorful fish staring at her out of emotionless, bulging eyes. Once reason had poked through the stark panic seizing her at the thought of drowning, she found that she could breathe the water!

Now, though, she stood in a lush, green meadow, swaying like the waters of a green sea in a soft spring breeze. The gently rolling hills and that copse of trees in the distance looked suspiciously like the fields just outside the walls of Poteidaia...

On impulse, she took out the Mirror and activated it.

The portal opened, and out flared a roaring inferno. Flames reached out through the opening, licking at the grass close by and turning it into a blackened, smoking mass.

Gabrielle jumped back just before the fire could scorch her hair, and, squeezing her eyes shut and inching closer from the side, slapped her hand against the Mirror's frame. She backed off and waited for the portal to close, panting.

It didn't. The frame wavered and shrunk, but something seemed to hold it in place.

A long, hairy red arm reached through the opening amidst the raging fire, a sinewy hand clawing and groping. When it took hold of Gabrielle's ankle and started pulling her slowly towards the opening, she gave a strangled gasp. Why wasn't the portal closing?

Frantically, she slammed her staff down on the arm - hardly sparing a thought for the fact that her trusty weapon seemed to appear and vanish according to her needs - but with little success. The thing seemed incredibly tough, the grip on her ankle viselike. Closer and close it dragged her to the portal and the raging inferno that flared on its far side.

Whatever creature the arm belonged to obviously was not strong enough to keep the portal open and deal with a struggling Gabrielle at the same time. For at that moment, just when the bard's foot was close enough so the tip of her boot was singed by the heat, the magic doorway wavered once more and snapped shut with enough force for the backlash to throw Gabrielle back a pace. The arm - cut cleanly above the elbow - was still firmly clamped onto her leg.

Shuddering with revulsion, she pried it loose with shaking hands, finger by finger. She watched it drop to the ground twitching. Then, to her absolute horror, it started crawling away on wriggling fingers!

Shaken, Gabrielle picked up the mirror where it sat and tucked it into her belt. Obviously, there were still a few rules to this world that she knew nothing about! For her as a storyteller, it was a chore not to think in terms of fancy imagery, but the memory of her recent adventure on the rope across the chasm was still fresh enough to remind her of the consequences.

And once again, she was at a loss.

How to proceed, if she could not even be sure that, when she found the place she was looking for in this realm, the portal would open to that same place in the Waking World?

Suggestions, anyone? Whoever's in charge around here, I could use some help!

A fluttering motion up above caught her eye. A colored, rectangular piece of parchment about the size of her hand came tumbling down like a leaf on the wind, the light reflecting off its smooth faces as it floated gently down to come to rest lightly at the bard's feet.

She made a little surprised noise when she recognized it - one of Mrtva's 'Tarot' cards. It was lying face down, as if daring her to turn it over. When she did not do so immediately, an errant gust of wind found its way underneath, flipping it over.

The Queen Of Aura. The card that Mrtva had said was the bard's symbol.

Still hesitant, Gabrielle bent down and picked it up gingerly, afraid it might suddenly burst into flame, or worse.

For a wonder, it didn't.

The card was just as she remembered. While the background was a slightly blurred swirl of oranges and yellows, the intricate detail on the woman's face and clothing was enough to take one's breath away. In fact, it was so realistic that one could almost think it wasn't a picture at all...

And then it moved.

Gabrielle almost dropped the card. The figure on it, a woman in colorful Gypsy's clothing playing the violin and dancing, had raised her head and winked!

Dumbfounded, the bard stared at the moving picture and watched as the figure on it threw up her hands in a gesture of impatience, violin and bow still in her hands.

"What?" Gabrielle asked the card.

The figure rolled her eyes in exasperation, then she stood, hands on hips, tapping her foot, and looked at the bard expectantly.

"You're trying to tell me something," the bard surmised.

The woman in the picture nodded. Then she pressed her lips together and drew an index finger across them.

"But you can't talk," Gabrielle said when the meaning of the gesture registered.

The diminutive gypsy woman sighed visibly and gave her a thumbs up.

"Okay. You're a Tarot card, you can't talk, and I'm supposed to do something with you?"

A frantic shake of a tiny head.

"Not with you? But you're helping me?"

A nod.

"A guide, then? You're here to lead me to Mrtva's cave?"

The gypsy bard nodded again as she silently mouthed the word "Yes". She rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her head slowly, as if to say, "At last, she's got it! How can anyone be so dense?" It was amazing how clearly her body language conveyed what she was thinking.

"Geez, you're an impatient little thing, aren't you?" Gabrielle murmured. The tarot woman just glared at her.

"What? I'd like to see you make sense of a scrap of colored paper with an attitude, that can't even talk, little lady!"

The Queen of Aura stuck out her tongue.

Gabrielle opened her mouth, but swallowed the biting remark she had been about to make. It would never do to antagonize the Queen of Aura, since the card might well be the bard's only chance of finding Xena in the Waking World.

"Listen, you've got to give me some time, okay? I've never communicated with a card before."

The gypsy woman pouted.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay...? Please help me?"

Still pouting, the picture woman snapped her tiny fingers and then, crossing her arms in front of her, turned her back on Gabrielle.

"Hey, I said I was sorry.... Please, can't you-" She broke off as she saw a second card float down. She waited for it to come to rest on the ground, then she picked it up. It was the Ace of Aura, showing a snake biting its own tail, the thick coils forming two big loops placed side by side. This strange shape, Mrtva had said, was a symbol for infinity, as was the image of a snake swallowing its own tail. The background of the card was the same orange and yellow as in the other one.

"Thanks," Gabrielle told the Queen of Aura, who gave no indication of having heard. In fact, the gypsy woman seemed a normal picture now, though she was still pouting, with her arms crossed and her back half-turned.

"Okay, I get it. You've told me all you can, and now I have to figure out what's with the Ace. Right?"

When the Queen did not move again, the bard contemplated the Ace of Aura. She could see the serpent writhing, as if looking for a way to let go of its tail. She poked a finger at it gingerly, and could almost feel the smooth texture of its scaled hide. The serpent raised itself up as if to strike at her, but with its tail firmly wedged between its jaws, there was nothing it could do.

Gabrielle decided then and there that snakes' faces could show emotion, no matter what she had been taught. This one looked utterly frustrated because it couldn't get at her. Gabrielle suppressed the silly urge to tease the little reptile some more.

"As strange as it seems, I guess you're trying to tell me something as well," the bard told it.

The infinity-serpent writhed.

"I thought so. So let's see.... The Ace of Aura. Soul. Self. That's what you stand for, right?" She rubbed her nose, thinking.

Frustrated or not, the sinuous form bobbed its head once, agreeing with the bard's words. Tiny as it was, one of the serpent's eyes was clearly visible, watching her, unblinking, snake style. The little tongue flicked out occasionally, somehow finding its way past the partly swallowed tail.

"But what does that have to do with being lost here?

The reptile shrugged, a ripple passing through its entire length until it arrived at the tail and smacked into its snout. The snake squeezed its eyes shut in frustration and with a twist of jaws swallowed some more of the tail. Gabrielle bit back a nervous giggle.

"Okay... Soul. Self. My soul. Myself? The answer lies in my soul? I have to look inside myself to find a way out of here?

The tiny serpent bucked and went rigid, becoming a picture again.

"Well, I guess that was the answer."

At the same instant, Gabrielle saw a third card fall. She snatched it out of the air without waiting for it to hit the ground.

Desire.

She found herself blushing once again at the explicit nature of the picture. With the added benefit of the two tiny figures on it actually moving, it was enough to fluster the bard.

She forced herself to examine it, her ears burning uncomfortably, and noticed one thing that was different from the way she remembered the card. There had been a man and a woman doing... these things... before. Now there were two women.

Captivated in spite of herself, she watched the act play itself out. She had never considered herself to be a voyeur, but watching the two women pleasure each other was acutely arousing. Especially since they actually bore a faint resemblance to Xena and herself...

When the smaller of the figures threw back her head and silently screamed in ecstasy, Gabrielle snapped out of her reverie and tried to focus once more on the task at hand, struggling to ignore the throbbing in her midsection. But the more she tried, the more insistent it became. And with it came the vision of one dark-haired warrior writhing underneath her...

"Okay!!" she shouted. "Okay, so I want her! I want her bad, let's not dwell on it now, shall we?" She was blushing in earnest now, hoping no living thing was close enough to hear, or see.

The picture went still.

"Hum. You wanted me to admit that I desire her? What does that have to do with finding her?"

She looked up automatically, and caught the card she knew would be on its way down.

"So, if I admit to myself that I love her this much, will it bring me closer? I have looked inside of myself, and found my deepest desire... What else do I have to do?"

She looked at the new card. It was the Queen of Staffs. Xena's card.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" she murmured to herself. "I guess I'm getting better at this."

The woman on the card did not look anything like Xena, being blonde and clad in baggy black trousers and shirt. She did, however, have Xena's infamous "Look" down pat, and she was using it on Gabrielle now as she gestured impatiently.

The eyes, although tiny, held an intensity that easily matched the warrior's, but where Xena's were the color of burning ice, these had that almost violet shade of a cloudless evening sky.

She hefted her staff and looked at Gabrielle expectantly.

"I know, you wish I'd get on with it so we can get ourselves out of this fix..."

The woman on the card raised a questioning eyebrow..

"Well, not you," the bard amended. "Your real-life-impersonation. So, let's see, what's your message... we've got the Queen of Aura - me - the Ace of Aura," she blushed again, "... Desire," a shaky breath, "... and you. When you really look at these, I guess it's pretty obvious. This whole journey isn't about actually going places... it's about looking inside yourself. About dreams, right?"

The diminutive fighter looked at her as if she had just stated that water was wet.

Gabrielle chuckled ruefully. "I guess I forgot for a moment where I am. This is the Realm of Dreams, after all."

The Queen's lips quirked wryly.

The bard contemplated the images on cards she held. "So, this is all about discovering myself, is it? Well, we've established how I feel about a certain warrior. And to tell the truth, it feels wonderful to finally be able to admit it to myself."

She got a 'thumbs up' for a reply, and a toothy grin.

"But I've already discovered that. Then why are you still animated? Is there more?"

The Queen shrugged, apparently at a loss.

"What do you mean, you don't know? I thought you were here to lead me?"

The Fighter Queen put one hand on her hip and waggled a finger at the bard.

"Not lead me? Then what? I have to figure it out myself, and you're just a hint?"

Another 'thumbs up'.

"Ah well..." She sat down, tracing the outline of the Queen's card with her index finger. "You know, I never expected to feel that way about a woman. Do you think she feels the same way?"

The Queen shrugged. Then she ran her tongue along her teeth in a way that suggested that she could certainly be persuaded to 'feel that way' about the bard.

Gabrielle blushed again, but had to laugh. "You're sweet! I guess you wouldn't know about Xena, though... I guess I'm really afraid I might lose her if I come out and tell her. I'd rather spend a lifetime being 'just friends' than risk being rejected because she doesn't return my feelings. I couldn't bear that, I just couldn't."

The Queen made a movement as if to slap her, shaking her head frantically.

"You think I should tell her?"

An emphatic nod.

"And what if... no. I can't."

The fighter stamped her tiny foot, scowling.

"I'm a coward, I know. It's just... you see, losing her to anything would be bad, but being rejected by her... it's my ultimate nightmare."

My ultimate nightmare... Gabrielle gasped when the realization struck home.

"That's it, isn't it? That's what was missing. I acknowledged my dreams, and I also had to acknowledge my deepest nightmare. This place is all about dreams.... What do you think, Queen?"

But the Queen of Staffs was frozen. Curiously, her lips were pursed and her eyes closed, as if expecting a kiss. Gabrielle obliged by pressing her lips to the picture. "Thanks, sweetie. I promise I'll find a way to tell her."

She looked up into the air expectantly, and sure enough, there it was, fluttering down.

This one was the Eight of Cups. It showed four bronze cups reflected in a mirror to make a total of eight. With the inanimate objects it was hard to tell if this was animated, like the rest had been. But the picture did seem to have a certain depth, and when she turned it, she could see the reflection in the mirror change accordingly. Good enough.

She searched her memory for anything on this card. It represented "satisfaction", but she wasn't sure about all its ramifications.

"Satisfaction. So, you're satisfied with the conclusion I've come to, is that it? Or I'm satisfied that I've finally realized the depth of my emotions? What?"

The mirror, of course, gave no indication of having heard.

"Or maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe you're just trying to tell me it's time for the mirror..." Could she risk activating the portal now?

Among the cards she still held, pandemonium broke loose. All of them came alive again, each one in its own fashion gesturing. The Queens and the couple from "Desire" where nodding frantically and waving their arms, the Ace-Serpent was doing its best to rise up out of the picture, and the mirror on the Eight of Cups gave no indication of having heard. The cups sparkled quietly in the faded light. All of the Tarot cards - except the Eight - were saying one thing: "Yes, for Zeus' sake! Do it! Now!"

"Whoa," Gabrielle said, surprised. "Okay, I guess that answers that. Well, here goes."

Before she could change her mind again, she sat the Mirror of Phantasos on the ground and activated it.

*****

The panther blinked, confused. Just a minute ago she had been loping across the plain. Now she was sitting on a ledge high up in a colorful sandstone canyon, weak, in pain, feeling strange. One of the scents that had been so firmly engraved into her mind filled her nostrils to the exclusion of anything else.

This place seemed vaguely familiar, though.

Had she had any comprehension beyond the primeval instincts of the predator, Xena would have realized her body had just woken from a dream that her mind was still a prisoner of. Had she realized, she could have broken out of it. But with the mind of an animal, she could not begin to grasp the concept.

All that was human in her mind was gone, to be replaced only by a vague sense of being trapped.

Now being trapped was something the panther could understand, and she did not like it one bit. Neither did she like that vile scent that she associated with pain. She snarled.

Suddenly a woman stepped out of nowhere. She was tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed. More importantly, she carried the other scent the cat had been hunting.

Had she not been so very weak, the panther would have attacked and killed the woman then and there. As it was, she crouched defensively and stared at the newcomer out of hateful eyes.

*****

Profound relief at seeing the Stalactite Chamber on the other side of the portal warred with a trepidation about what Gabrielle would find there. Would Mrtva be there? What shape would Xena be in? Had the incident in the Realm of Dreams had an effect on the warrior? If so, Xena could be dead...

The moment Gabrielle entered the magical doorway, she felt a wrench that told her she was now once more in Xena's body. The Tarot cards she had been holding vanished as soon as they crossed the line to the Waking World.

Frantic, she looked around for any traces of Xena or the witch, while she closed the portal and carefully stowed the Mirror Of Phantasos away.

She found Xena - in the bard's body - propped up against the wall at the entrance of the cave. The light flooding in prevented her from seeing clearly, but the figure silhouetted against the opening looked like she had just woken up form a deep sleep. Gabrielle stepped closer cautiously.

She was greeted by a fierce snarl as Xena struggled to her feet and dropped into a crouch facing her. There was no sign of recognition in those mist-green eyes. The woman looked like a trapped animal.

"Xena, it's me... don't you recognize me?"

The snarl grew more vicious in response, as Xena retreated along the mouth of the cave. Gabrielle quickly took a step back, trying to keep her from backing up too far and falling off the cliff. In the state the warrior seemed to be in, that was a distinct possibility.

"I guess that's a 'no'," the bard murmured. She raised her voice a little so Xena would hear her. "What happened to you, Xena? You act as if I'm your enemy...?"

A hysterical cackle close behind her made Gabrielle start.

"Well, well, well, what a heartwarming reunion," Mrtva said pleasantly. "Who would have thought you'd have the brains to find your way here, strumpet! Must have been our unique bond that led you here" She paused, and spared a glance at at Xena who was sniffing the air. When she became aware of the witch's eyes on her, she growled.

"I'm sorry your sweetheart over there is sort of... stepped out," she added between mad giggles.

"What have you done with her?" Gabrielle asked in a carefully level voice.

Over by the mouth of the cave, upon hearing the bard speak, Xena turned her head to look at her, and hissed softly through her teeth. That distant look and the total lack of recognition in her eyes tore at Gabrielle's soul. Gods, she can't be gone!!! Please don't let this be permanent!

"What have I done to her?" Mrtva was saying. "I hate to break this to you, brat, but she did it to herself. You have to be careful what you're thinking in the Realm of Dreams. She wasn't."

"Why should I believe you?" Gabrielle said coldly. After all they'd been through because of this... this creature, now that the bard was finally facing her again, all she felt was a cold, simmering anger. She'd had no idea she was capable of this kind of emotion; maybe it was courtesy of the warrior's body she now inhabited.

Be that as it may, she had no intention of suppressing that rage now. Letting it seethe inside her - it felt exhilarating! Was that Xena's emotion, or her own? - she slowly turned to face the witch, knowing her eyes must burn colder than ice.

A slow, evil smile spread across Mrtva's features. "Yes, my child, that's it. Let your anger consume you. Feel that hatred. Let it burn. It undid your sweetheart over there, and it shall undo you."

By the mouth of the cave, Xena whimpered.

Something clicked into place inside Gabrielle as she suddenly grasped the nature of this creature's power over Xena. It was the warrior's dark, angry side that let Mrtva invade Xena's mind and slowly break her spirit. The rage and the fear's from the warrior's dark past made her vulnerable. The witch had been stoking those emotions like the embers of a dying fire, strengthening them and making them control Xena, rather than vice versa. It was only a matter of time before the warrior's mind would overload. Death, or madness would be the ultimate consequence.

And what did Mrtva gain from this? What was she, anyway? Maybe she was able to draw strength from the fear and anger of others. If that was the case, she must be extremely strong. Xena had enough anger and darkness bottled up inside her to inspire nightmares in an entire army!

As these thoughts flashed through the bard's mind, she never took her eyes off Mrtva, who met her stare without flinching. For some reason, Gabrielle no longer saw those green, vibrant eyes that mirrored her own, but recognized the two orbs as the pale and twisted lifeless things they were. And all of a sudden, her anger was dimmed, weakened by something akin to pity as she met that empty stare.

There was pain in there, Gabrielle realized - intolerable suffering long past, wrapped securely inside a soulless mind that was hard as stone, devoid of any emotion except hatred.

Mrtva's evil smile faded for just an instant, and she took a step back. Gabrielle almost missed the fleeting change, but it told her something that came as a bit of a shock.

By the Gods! She's afraid of me. Afraid!!!

Steel blue eyes in a cold, cold face betrayed nothing of Gabrielle's confusion - Thank the Gods for Xena's supreme self-control!!! - as she tried to figure out why this being, with its considerable powers, would fear a mere bard. What kind of strength could she possibly possess?

*****

Fear.

It was a sensation Mrtva had long since forgotten, and as such, it was initially a welcome one. But when the being realized that that pathetic human held the key to her undoing, she suddenly liked the feeling less. A lot less, for Morpheus' sake!

She had to find a way to feed some more. At top strength, she might be able to withstand the wench's attack. Provided the brat had the guts to confront the likes of Mrtva.

But, better not to take any chances. One more pass at Xena, while keeping her gaze firmly on the young bard in the warrior's body, even managing another taunt, and in the blink of an eye, she had opened the portal to her home Realm, and dove through.

*****

Fear.

The panther was deadly afraid. She knew instinctively that the creature that was not of this world was causing that fear. The sensation of something being drained from her became almost unbearable, until she collapsed with a pitiful meow, unconscious.

*****

Fear.

An interesting thought, that this thing, whom Gabrielle had thought cold-blooded and utterly emotionless, should be capable of being afraid.

But, as quickly as Mrtva's little slip had appeared, it was gone again, and her face that cold, empty, grinning, mask once more.

Then several things happened almost at once.

Behind the bard and to the side, Xena growled softly. Gabrielle could hear the scrape across the sandstone as the other woman retreated further.

Mrtva, who had not moved since taking that step backwards, said sweetly, "I suppose I should leave you two to yourselves - I bet you have sooo much to tell each other."

Close behind the witch, that dread portal suddenly sprang into being, shimmering malevolently. At the same time, Xena uttered a terrible, pained whimper and fell to the ground with an audible thud.

An instant later, Mrtva leaped backward and faded through the doorway to the Realm of Dreams. Gabrielle gathered herself to dive after her, but hesitated and glanced at Xena, who lay there, limp as a rag doll. There was no way she would leave her warrior again, especially not in the condition Xena was in. Whatever condition that was.

Thus she let the portal snap closed and turned, half afraid of what she might find. She wasn't sure what she feared more - that the warrior was dead, or that she alive. What had happened while they had been separated?

Xena showed no reaction when the bard knelt beside her. She was breathing low, but a quick check of her jugular told Gabrielle that her heart was beating solidly.

"Okay, warrior, here's where I could use some of your quick thinking. You're the one who can slip into the enemy's mind. What's her plan? Obviously she won't just leave us alone from now on... And besides, we can't leave her loose in this world. Who knows what havoc she'll wreak? That poor little hamlet she torched was just the beginning. And with that portal at her command - she can go anywhere she wants to! We can't let that happen, Xena. We've got to stop her!"

Squaring her shoulders and wriggling a bit to readjust her armor - how did Xena manage to look at ease and actually comfortable in that stuff??? - she got to her feet, gently lifted Xena's unconscious form - Gabrielle's own body! It still wrenched her mind to think about it - and slung it over her shoulders.

The weight made her grunt a little, but this body was strong. She could manage. "Well, I guess that means we go after her. Thanks for your advice, Xena. What would I have done without you?"

Securing the limp body with one arm, she fumbled for the Mirror in her pouch until she was able to set it on the ground. Then she touched its surface.

With that whooshing sound the bard was coming to dread, the portal zoomed into existence. As before, she could see beyond its barrier of swirling mists an exact copy of her surroundings. Only now she knew that that wasn't the real world at all, but its representation in Morpheus' World, the Realm of Dreams.

Gabrielle sighed softly, carefully readjusted her precious burden, and stepped through.

No sooner did she put a foot down on the other side, than she felt that peculiar wrench again. She groaned as her knees buckled under a load that had suddenly multiplied.

For draped around her broad shoulders was not the small body of a petite bard, but a full-grown, night black panther!

"Oh great", Gabrielle murmured as the first shock subsided. Her voice was definitely taking on a hysterical pitch. "She's a cat. The woman I love is a freakin' cat. No problem. I can deal with it. But Gods, she's heavy!"

Still on her knees, she tilted her body to let the feline slide gently to the ground.

"Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any weirder..." She sat down, regarding the senseless black animal silently for a few moments. Then something just snapped inside her, and she started giggling.

And, with the one she loved trapped inside the body of an animal that apparently did not even remember her, and the world facing a subtle but devastating threat it could not begin to grasp, the bard just sat there laughing till tears streamed down her face.

Unconsciously, Gabrielle's hand found her way to the prone panther and started stroking the velvety fur just under the creature's chin.

She never saw the cat's eyelids flutter, or registered the slight catch in the animal's breath as life gradually returned to the still form.

*****

In that curious state between waking and oblivion, the panther did not feel the bard's caress as such, but rather a sense of peace and comfort that made her relax completely and forget the residual pain in her head, or the anger she felt at having been hurt in this way.

Gradually, as her senses returned, she became aware of the gentle touch, recognizing it for what it was. Strangely, though with consciousness came the recognition of one of the scents she sought, the large cat felt no urge to attack.

Confused and curious now rather than angry, the panther watched the woman, wondering why this felt so good, not wanting it to stop.

*****

The mad laughter finally subsiding, Gabrielle sat staring blankly into the distance, her hand still running over the panther's soft coat.

A soft rustle - magnified tenfold by the strange acoustics of this realm - finally made her turn her eyes to the feline.

She found herself gazing into a set of intense blue eyes that must have been looking at her for some time, because the panther was very much awake now!

With a soft gasp, the bard withdrew her hand and gingerly got to her feet, eyeing the animal warily. Xena had not recognized her before. If she still did not know who Gabrielle was, she was now even more dangerous than in human form!

The cat growled low in her throat, and slowly raised herself, never taking her eyes of the bard. She looked more disappointed than angry, but Gabrielle was not about to take any chances, so she retreated cautiously.

"H-hey there, um, Xena," she said shakily. The panther's ears perked.

"I sure hope you're not too hungry."

Xena dropped on her haunches.

Gabrielle smiled uncertainly.

Xena licked her chops.

Oh, this is just great. What am I going to do with her? We've got to get back to the real world, and Greece!

"O-o-okay, so let's see how much you understand of what I'm saying, kitty.... Do you know you're Xena?"

Much to the bard's disappointment, hearing her name produced no reaction in the big feline.

"Would've been too good to be true," Gabrielle murmured. "How about some food? I'm sure I must look delicious to you." I can't believe I just said that! "Or maybe you'd prefer that I give you another good whack with my staff?"

Again, her words had no effect on the night black animal.

As before, Gabrielle had entered the Realm of Dreams in a place that looked almost exactly like the one she had just left. She looked around in the cavern, hoping to find something, anything, that might help her get through to the warrior.

Finally, she could take it no longer. They could not afford to remain too long in this realm. Despair won out over her fear of the wild animal in front of her, and the pain at not being recognized, as she took a slow step towards the panther.

*****

A deep rumble erupted from the panther's throat when the human started to approach her. All her wild instincts yelled "danger!" and yet, something kept her from attacking. A memory that somehow did not belong into the feline's world...

She was at the cross, wanting nothing more than to pass over. The shape of the beautiful young slave girl who had died to save her was floating close by. And that voice, pleading, imploring...

"Xena, I know you can hear me, wherever you are. I know you always told me to be strong. I can't be - not now. You can't leave me. I know it's not your time. I can feel it in my heart. I feel this emptiness that I've never known before, and it scares me. Xena, above all, just remember your destiny. Remember it and fight. Just... fight to come back. This world needs you. I need you."

The panther squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to block out the nightmare. But words and images kept flooding her until she felt like she was going to blow.

I have to go back!

"Xena? Xena, can you hear me?"

The last voice was real. The cat snarled and raised a clawed paw threateningly.

I have to go back!

"Come on, Xena, you know me. Remember, the little redhead that talks a lot? Gabrielle?"

Gabrielle...

And then she was Xena again, getting her bearings just in time to catch a very relieved bard in a fierce embrace, holding her tight and stroking the red-golden hair until the sobs of gratitude subsided.

"You did it, Gabrielle," the warrior said softly.

Gabrielle pulled back a little to look at her companion. "We're not out of this yet," she said seriously. "And of course, there is the matter of the little trick you pulled with our bodies..."

"It was the only way, Gabrielle. I couldn't have..." She looked pained.

"I know," the bard said softly. "Don't worry about it. We need to get out of this realm before you-know-who finds us. She's mighty powerful here."

They were both in their own bodies, here, which made Gabrielle wonder some more about this strange place. She saw Xena's form waver and change briefly, and felt a corresponding wrench within herself. The bard decided hurriedly that such thoughts were better left alone. Who knew when things would be back to normal in the waking world. She might as well enjoy this semblance of normality while it lasted.

"Well, bard, lead on," Xena was saying. You're the one who's been here before."

"Right," said Gabrielle, thinking wistfully of the tarot cards that had helped her find her way the first time.

But of course they had helped her by letting her figure out a little bit of how this place functioned...

"Hold my hand, Xena. We don't want to get separated."

And besides, holding Xena's hand - Xena's human hand - felt good.

Suddenly, the warrior tensed.

"What's wrong, Xena?"

"I feel fear," Xena whispered tersely. "It must mean that she's close by." The grip on Gabrielle's hand tightened.

Sure enough, that faint twisting sensation in her gut that alerted her to the witch's proximity was there, mocking her. "Then let's get the Tartarus out of here! I'd much rather meet her on our own ground."

"Right," the warrior agreed.

Gabrielle looked at her askance. Xena agreeing with her, this readily? They had got to get away from here!

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus on her need to get to safety. She took a step, and felt that peculiar wrench in her gut that she had come to associate with this place. When she opened her eyes, they were still in the cave. A somewhat shaken looking Xena stood next to her, still clasping her hand.

"Well, that was... different," the warrior said dryly.

"I had hoped we would get away from here with what I did. We should have been whisked away to some other place," Gabrielle replied, confused.

Xena shrugged. "Something happened anyway. The fear is gone."

Gabrielle did a double take. She could not sense Mrtva now, other than a very faint nausea that might have been the aftermath of taking a step in the Realm of Dreams.

Before she had a chance to doubt her sudden instinct, the bard activated the portal.

It opened onto a scene that even her most outrageous nightmares could not have dreamed up.

The whole landscape inside her field of vision seemed to be made from flat planes of gray stone, even the ground. Block-shaped, impossibly high angular shapes, set with rows of squares that shone like the surface of a too calm lake, reached up into the sky at varying heights. A sky that was almost as gray as the ground.

And then there was the noise. The area was populated by multicolored, shiny things on wheels that zipped by between the strange granite objects. No horse, not even Pegasus himself, could have run fast enough to account for their speed - they must be propelled by magic! A droning hum permeated the air, filling ears, head, and stomach with a resounding thrumming. This only served as a foundation for a cacophony of sounds, screeches, honking noises, human shouts.

Lights, red, white, green and yellow, flashed everywhere, irregularly. It was Pandemonium.

Worse even than the insistent noise was the acrid smell that wafted out at them. Fumes seemed to rise from every single one of the diabolical vehicles, as well as from other places best not thought about.

Even safely on the other side of the portal, Gabrielle found herself gagging with nausea.

"Close it," Xena said in a strangled voice. The bard needed no further prompting. An instant later, the portal snapped shut.

"There were people in there," Gabrielle gasped. "How can they exist in... that? It's vile."

"Wonder what kind of place that was," Xena said thoughtfully. "I certainly don't know of a country that looks like this. And I've seen a lot."

The bard shrugged. "The way this Realm works, who knows. On my way here, I once opened a portal to some place that was all fire. Something jumped me from there, Xena. I barely got away."

"I thought you knew your way around this," Xena grunted, after her eyes briefly flashed with concern.

"I never said... Xena, this place is huge, and it has more rules than an Amazon ritual. I've only figured out a few of them. For the rest, I'm afraid I'm... improvising."

"Great," the warrior murmured. Her face softened a little when she saw Gabrielle's hurt look. "So, how did you get through the first time?"

Gabrielle felt a blush creeping to her face at the memory of what she had learned from the tarot cards. Maybe this would be a good time to.... No.

"Well, a couple of cards sort of took me through the steps," she said finally.

Xena cocked an eyebrow, both at the bard's slight hesitation, and at her words. "Cards?"

"Yes, cards. You know, the kind M- the kind that she uses." She tried to ignore Xena's disdainful snort. "They told me I had to look inside myself, and realize my deepest desire, and my greatest nightmare."

"And, did you?" the warrior asked slowly. She was certainly interested all of a sudden!

Gabrielle cleared her throat. "Yes, I did."

"Then we should be all set. Because I have already realized mine."

Something in her voice made Gabrielle look up at her. Their gazes met for a timeless instant, blue melting into green.

"Right," the bard said finally, clearing her throat again. She touched the mirror that still sat on the ground at their feet.

"You're not going to open that ag-" Xena gasped, but the portal was already in place.

"Well, I'll be," Gabrielle said, quite pleased with herself, for the magic entrance led onto a grassy plain, with the outline of a familiar looking mountain range in the distance. Parnassus. The abode of the Oracle.

Xena stared at the portal. "How did you know it would open onto a different place?"

"Call it bardic intuition," the bard said with a smug smile that was marred only by her intense relief. "Well? You coming?"

Nodding dumbly, the warrior followed her through the opening.

The moment they passed through, a warping sensation told them that they now once more had the other's body.

There were still things to be taken care of. But it seemed they were back in Greece at last.

Chapter IX : Conflict

Absently, Gabrielle deactivated the mirror. Her eyes were locked onto her companion as she tucked the device into her pouch.

By the gods!" Gabrielle exclaimed. She had been aware, of course, of inhabiting the warrior's body, but seeing herself before her for the first time, and knowing that the warrior was experiencing the same thing, was a bit more of a shock than she had expected.

"You're me," Xena remarked tonelessly.

"And you're... me."

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"Well, now that we've got that settled," the warrior said, all matter-of-fact again, "let's see about getting back into business. Where did you leave Argo?"

Gabrielle grinned a little. I wonder if this will work... She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled.

A whinny in the distance answered, and a moment later, the mare came trotting up to her, ears pricked, and her face stating clearly that it was about time she got called.

Xena's jaw dropped.

The mare blew softly into Gabrielle's outstretched hand in greeting, shook her head, and sniffed again. Then she turned her head and looked at Xena - wearing the bard's body - in such utter confusion that both women burst out laughing.

Argo snorted and tossed her head, giving them both a flat stare.

Still chuckling, they went and retrieved Argo's gear from where the bard had hidden it in a small copse of trees.

Xena was strapping the saddle onto the mare, when Gabrielle suddenly stiffened. Her warrior's body's acute hearing had picked up a sound it identified as a threat.

Xena had seen her tense, and gave the barest hint of a nod. "Yes, Gabrielle", she whispered, "longbow. Behind us, to our right. Whoever it is is still taking aim. If it misses you, it'll hit me."

"Uh huh. So what do I do?" came the whispered reply. "You don't expect me to catch that, do you? ... But I think you do. Gods!"

"I can't, in this body. You know that."

"But how...?"

"Focus. And just try to let my body's instincts take over. It knows what to do. C'mon, you can do this!"

"Yeah. Okay."

"He's drawing the string, Gabrielle."

The bard swallowed, and closed her eyes. Focus. Come on, Gabrielle! Yes, they were there, those innate reflexes. Focus. She tried to extend her senses backward, and just sort of... let go. There it was, a tiny creak and a telltale twang as the arrow was released. She felt herself drop to one knee, her hand snapped up at the moment the shaft hurtled by, and then, just like that, she had it in her hand. Firmly embedded in her hand, right through the palm.

"Damn," she cursed softly.

*****

Xena watched the bard waver as the arrow impaled itself into her hand. At the same time, she caught a flicker of movement in the direction that the arrow had come from.

Thinking quickly, she took off towards the bushes to tackle the archer.

Rounding the tall rock where she had seen him disappear, she ran smack into a tall, black-clad figure.

"You! I was wondering where you fit in in all this, Ares."

The God of War gave her one of his insufferable grins. "You give me too much credit, my dear. Your nightmare friend is actually pulling this off all by herself. I'm just enjoying the show." He looked her up and down. "So, it's true what I suspected. You've changed, Xena."

"Very funny. And you had to try and kill one of us to find out?"

"Aw, now, are you going to be upset with me for that? Don't be silly. You know you love danger; you're courting it like a lover. More, actually." He smirked, and waggled his eyebrows in Gabrielle's direction.

Damn! Is it this obvious?, Xena thought angrily. If even the God of War notices...

"You know, there is no accounting for taste. Myself, I find her to be rather... irritating."

Xena growled. "Get out of here, Ares."

He glanced over at the tall figure that was the bard, still down on one knee and staring dumbly at her hand.

"Nice catch," he said dryly. "Wouldn't she have made a swell warrior?" And, his laughter echoing around him, he vanished.

*****

The world receded from the bard's awareness. She was still down on one knee, and stared dumbfounded at the arrow impaling her hand. Her friend's hand. After what seemed half an eternity, a she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?"

"That wasn't how I planned it at all," Gabrielle said dully.

Xena patted her shoulder. "I know. Come along, we need to take care of that. Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"One of us could be dead, you know. You'd better be glad it turned out this way."

She sat the still stunned bard down by the base of a tree and went to Argo to fetch her medical kit, a wad of cloth, and a strip of thick leather.

"What happened to... the archer?" Gabrielle asked weakly.

Xena shrugged. "Don't worry about him. But you need help now." She crouched by the bard, and examined the injured hand with gentle, knowing fingers.

"Here," the warrior said crisply, and put the piece of leather into Gabrielle's mouth, "bite down on this."

"Uatsh shat fo'?" the bard asked around the strip.

"Just a precaution. 'Fraid it's gonna hurt."

"Hursh aweagy. Ghenga, I..."

"Hush," Xena commanded curtly, but with a tiny, fond smile. "Now, bite!" She pulled out her dagger and very carefully cut a deep nick into the arrow's shaft. Then, with a quick flick of her wrist, she broke off one end of the thus weakened shaft and quickly pulled the other out of the wound, before Gabrielle even had a chance to moan. Pressing her thumb and forefinger firmly on both sides of the other woman's hand to staunch the flow of blood, she used the cloth as a bandage that she tied firmly around the hole.

"I ghink I'ng gonga kagh ough," Gabrielle said. Then the leather dropped from her mouth, and she slid bonelessly into Xena's anticipating arms.

*****

Another one who had not died completely. Mrtva slid silently out of the little room, leaving the empty husk of the woman staring sightlessly away into the distance. She did not know which satiated her more, watching them shrivel with fear and die from heart failure when her feeding became too much, or knowing them to live on inside a cursed, senseless body, with a mind destined to continue an existence in nightmares too gleefully terrible for mortal words.

Of course, there was the added pleasure of watching the loved ones her victims left behind, puzzled, scared, struggling to learn what had happened. Just the right dose of terror to sustain her until the next time.

But they were nothing compared to what she had almost had. Nothing.

She stopped her furious hissing before it got loud enough to attract attention. It was time to go. The sorry wench's family was returning.

Mrtva would have loved to watch, but she had other things to worry about.

She could sense them, both of them, as they fumbled their way through her realm. The little pest had a surprising amount of intuition. She had felt the portal opening, felt them slip out from practically under her nose. So close.

She ripped forth the mirror, slammed the portal into place and stalked through. They would have left a residue. All mortals did. It would be easy to find the place where they had stepped into the Waking World. She had to confront them before the little one figured out what kind of power she held!

Pale, empty eyes lifted skyward, she extended her otherworldly senses. There it was. A few mind-jumps would take her there.

This time, she did not bother to suppress the grating growl that erupted from deep within her undead chest, where a lifeless heart was mechanically pumping that gruesome, viscous fluid through decaying veins, that had once been blood.

No pain now. Nothing but the cold. She yearned to remember. She would have them both. The warrior's darkness to sustain her, the bard's body, to bring back the memory of life.

*****

Gabrielle woke from a fitful dozing to look into a set of concerned green eyes.

Is this how I look at her when she has been hurt? And does it feel this... good... to her, too? She managed a weak smile.

"Feeling better?" Xena asked her.

Gabrielle chuckled. "Some warrior, aren't I? Passing out like this."

Xena grinned and patted her shoulder. "You did okay, all things considered. You hungry?"

An insistent rumbling in the bard's stomach answered for her. Xena shook her head and smiled. "You are messing with my body," she accused good-naturedly, "my stomach never makes these noises."

"Oh yeah?" Gabrielle countered. "Then I suppose it's you purring I hear whenever you smell roast boar?"

Xena spread her arms in surrender before she handed her friend a chunk of rabbit, which the bard accepted gratefully.

"So, what's our plan now?" Gabrielle asked around a mouthful of the juicy meat. "Do we have one?"

The warrior turned bard considered for a moment. "Well, first, I am going to change the dressing on that wound. Then I suppose we should try and see if there is a way to reverse this." Her gesture took in both of them.

Gabrielle froze in mid-chew. "Hold on, Xena. Are you trying to tell me we're not being switched back? Didn't Nyx tell you how to reverse this?"

Xena looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, Nyx wasn't too specific about that, and pushing her for it seemed like a bad idea at the time."

"Oh great. You mean we're stuck like this?"

"I don't know. It's not like it was such a bad change for you."

"But it was for you?" asked Gabrielle, hurt creeping into her voice.

Xena took a breath. "Listen, I didn't-"

The by now familiar sound of a magic portal opening close by cut her short.

Xena froze in terror.

"Here comes trouble," muttered Gabrielle as she instinctively reached for the sword on her back.

Jolts of pain shot through her injured hand when it closed around the hilt, but she clenched her jaw and went through with the motion, gliding to her feet automatically as she did.

She caught Xena's fear-stricken form out of the corner of her eye, and knew that she was on her own for the time being.

Before long, the haggard shape of the witch stepped through the portal. Her gaze was riveted on Gabrielle as she closed the portal and absently made the mirror disappear in her bag. These strange eyes! Lifeless yet at the same time filled with an unearthly, savage glow, those pale orbs never failed to send a shiver creeping up Gabrielle's spine. How she could ever have taken them to be of the same color as her own, a vibrant green, was completely beyond her now.

"Sso, we meet again, wretch."

"Charmed," Gabrielle agreed wryly. She shifted her grip on the sword, hoping to take some pressure off the wound, as she watched Mrtva glide to the side, starting to circle her.

The warrior's body took over, taking a battle stance, sword held at the ready and keeping herself between the evil being and Xena, who watched them both out of large eyes, her jaw muscles twitching with inner struggle.

"Do you really think your puny, mortal weapon will stop me?" Mrtva taunted. "I can't be killed. I have lived through more deaths than I care to count. A sad parody of a warrior like you will hardly be able to dent my skin."

"We will see about that, witch."

Gabrielle whirled. Xena had gotten to her feet and seized Gabrielle's staff. Mrtva's eyes widened briefly, but then she cackled.

Before Gabrielle could make her body react, Xena was flinging herself at the evil being, staff poised for a powerful blow. Mrtva did not move.

Everything happened quickly. Gabrielle yelled, "Xena, Noooo!," as Xena lurched forward. A flurry of motion, a startled yell, the staff clattering harmlessly to the ground, Xena down on her knees with a look of incredulous bewilderment on her face. Mrtva had not moved a hair. She stood like a statue, arms spread wide.

"And the beauty of it is, people tend to hurt themselves whenever they try to attack me."

"I... tripped." Xena glared at Mrtva, anger overriding her fear of the woman for the moment. "What did you do to me?"

"I told you." Mrtva managed to look both smug and - disappointed? - at the same time. "Try again," she offered.

Xena shot her another suspicious glance, but she complied, this time taking into consideration her now smaller body and strength. She did not remember that staff being this heavy! She lifted it high above her head, preparing to put all of her weight into a downward stroke. Took careful aim. She would split open Mrtva's skull. A bunching of muscle. Now. A gust of wind, carrying dust and leaves. With a curse, Xena dropped the staff, knuckling her eyes. Some piece of foliage was stuck there.

Mrtva cackled evilly. "Now do you know where those idiots back in the village went wrong? You would not believe how easily a fire can get out of control..."

"You killed them all," Gabrielle said flatly. "I should have realized that long ago." She had watched Xena fumble when trying to launch an attack at Mrtva. Her mind was racing for a way to nullify the effect the being seemed to have on Chance's machinations.

Carefully, she advanced on the witch, aware of the painful throbbing in her hand, but trying to ignore it, picking each step with the greatest care.

"They were idiots," sneered Mrtva, her attention now once again on Gabrielle. "They didn't deserve to live."

Meanwhile, Xena blinked a few times after removing the obstruction in her eye, and once more grasped the staff. Slowly, cautiously, she approached Mrtva, a determined glint in that emerald gaze.

Gabrielle circled around the other way, drawing the twisted being's gaze with her, and fervently wishing that her attempt to distract from Xena would not be recognized as such.

Her hopes were shattered when she saw the witch's gaze flick towards her friend with a wicked little smile. Throwing all caution into the wind, Gabrielle charged the creature with a furious, high-pitched howl that very nearly sounded like the fabled battle cry of the Warrior Princess.

Although the weight of the sword felt unfamiliar in her hands, she was getting better at letting this body take over. Hacking and slashing, she pressed Mrtva hard. Mishaps kept her from scoring a direct hit - she stumbled, floundered, once she even sank to one knee as a branch tangled itself impossibly in her legs. But she persevered, advancing doggedly until she was practically nose to nose with her target. Now she did score, cutting a long, nasty gash down Mrtva's front.

Gabrielle faltered and paused, sickened by her own deed. Mrtva, however, threw back her head in an almost ecstatic gesture, a soft moan escaping her lips.

The bard stared. Already the wound was starting to congeal. There was no blood, just a slow trickle of yellowish ooze.

Then, several things happened almost at once.

With a sickening crack, Xena, creeping up from the side, slammed the staff home. Mrtva's head snapped to the side, she lurched grotesquely, staggering a few steps from the force of the blow, then the head came back up. An oblong dent, about as wide as an Amazon's staff, adorned the right temple. The creature did not seem to notice. Her eyes glowed with an unearthly, light, as if daring them to try again. She made no move to protect herself.

Gabrielle, getting ready to start another attack, suddenly found her world changing. The surroundings blurred, there was a wrenching feeling and a sense of disorientation, followed by a feeling of intense nausea.

And then she found herself several paces off to the side, the familiar texture of her wooden staff warm and comforting against her hands. She retched a few times, but nothing came. Her head seemed about to burst.

It took her a few moments and the sight of a similarly confused warrior standing where she had been the blink of an eye ago, to realize that she was back in her own body.

The warrior shook herself. Not questioning what had happened, she launched a series of vicious slashes at the witch, once almost succeeding in severing an arm, but doing no serious damage. It seemed there truly was no way to harm this being; in fact, Mrtva seemed to revel in each hit Xena scored.

The creature raised her head, dead eyes unfocused, sniffing. There was a popping sound as the dented bones in her temple sprang back into place.

"That wass a sstupid thing to do, Warrior Slut," she said, looking at Xena. "With your mind and body one again, you know you are no match for me." She hissed wordlessly.

Xena stood stock-still as her battle rage gave way to that inexplicable, deep fear that this creature inspired in her - she paled, her eyes went wide. Slowly, she retreated. The sword dropped from nerveless hands.

Above the screaming headache and roiling stomach, Gabrielle realized that something else was back in force - the link that Mrtva had forged between them. She could sense her. She could get inside her. Every wound Xena had inflicted on the witch smarted as if it was her own, but she tried to tell herself it was not real, biting her lip against crying out in agony.

The familiar horrid excitement at being thus connected was back in force. A searing heat spread from the pit of her stomach, threatening to suffocate her. Memories not her own flooded her mind, too jumbled to make much sense of them. Fond memories, painful memories.

And then it became startlingly clear to her that she knew how Mrtva could be harmed.

*****

There it was again, that sensation of fear.

As desperate as Mrtva was to experience any type of emotion, that icy, paralyzing claw taking a firm hold on her being was not what she had expected. Pain, pain was good, intense, it was real. But this, she could not fathom or control, and she did not like that.

The instant the little wench was back in her own body, Mrtva knew that she was in trouble. The ritual, incomplete as it was, had left her vulnerable, had left her and the bard with an intense spiritual connection. Physical attacks could hurt her, cause her pain, but in this form she had been cursed with, she welcomed pain, and only regretted it could not end her misery. No weapon forged in this world could kill Mrtva.

It had never occurred to Mrtva that Gabrielle might discover the one way that she could be destroyed.

The ritual, the ritual could have given her her life back, in the body of this young, obnoxious and naive little bard. Instead, it might well prove her downfall.

Frantically, Mrtva focused her attention on the warrior. If she could break Xena's mind, she might yet save herself from the horror that was Gabrielle.

*****

Seeing Mrtva pause slightly, Xena took advantage of the temporary reprieve to advance again. She expected the panic attacks to return any time, she had to make every stroke of her blade count.

How she was going to defeat a creature that could not be harmed by a sword was not entirely clear to her, but all the warrior could think of was Mrtva's head, neatly severed from the rest of her. If even that didn't kill her, at least she would be considerably restricted in her actions.

With a guttural roar, she brought her sword around in a whining arc, but somehow she tripped in mid stroke and ended up delivering a wicked cut to the witch's abdomen. Again, it opened up bloodlessly. Some green, viscous substance seeped from it. Xena gaped. She had expected entrails.

Hearing Gabrielle groan softly, the warrior turned in time to see her double over, both hands pressed to her stomach.

"Gabrielle!"

The bard's eyes stared ahead unseeing, shocked surprise evident in their glazed look. She sank to her knees.

"What have you done with her?" the warrior grated, whirling to face Mrtva again.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Mrtva laughed hysterically. "You are doing it. Beautiful, isn't it? My wounds are her wounds, you see. Difference being, I can recover from them. She can't."

"Gabrielle?"

*****

Unable to speak through the agony, Gabrielle could only look at her friend, silently telling her that she would be okay, that it was just pain, and it would go away. It was just pain. Whatever happened to Mrtva, it could not truly hurt her. It was just pain. She had to believe that.

Xena, however, did not seem to understand what the bard was trying to say. The warrior stood rooted to the spot, apparently wanting to tear Mrtva limb from limb with her bare hands, but unable to for fear of hurting the bard. Traces of that by now familiar panic were starting to show again.

It is just pain, the bard reminded herself again. Although at the moment, she was sure she would see the blade sticking in her gut if she dared to look down. The metallic smell of fresh blood filled her nostrils. Wet warmth was spreading from the wound. Too real! It can't be... She steeled herself, and looked at her abdomen.

Nothing but tanned, healthy skin stretched over taut abdominal muscles. No wound, no blood. But even seeing with her own eyes, Gabrielle found it hard to believe. It felt so real... she must get over it, or they would be in trouble. I can feel her pain, I should be able to get inside her mind. That must be where those weird memories are coming from. They are scenes from her past, from when she was human! Gods, that was ages ago. She was a young girl.... Most of the images fleshing through Gabrielle's head where happy ones, but there was also a vague darkness, vile and filthy, so evil that her consciousness shied away from it. There was a handsome young man, strangely dressed as if he was from a different age, and the girl whose memories she now owned had loved him with all her being. Then he had been gone. He had not died, but turned out to be something other than he had seemed, and she discovered that he had deceived her, never loved her at all, just used her. There was a vast emotional void, and it hurt more than anything. Then came the anger. And after that, a darkness blacker than just the lack of light.

The bard shuddered.

"Mara," she whispered. That was her name then. And she remembers. I never thought there could be anything still human inside that... thing.

On hearing Gabrielle speak, Mrtva screeched like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. "What did you say?"

Ignoring the pain still raging through her midsection, Gabrielle forced herself to her feet. Jaw setting in grim determination, she said the other name that had found its way into her mind. "Antikrates."

For the first time since she had known the witch, true emotion showed on her face. But only for a split second, then her features hardened again.

However, she could not hide from Gabrielle. The bard knew that somehow, these memories were more than Mrtva could bear. They were part of what made her what she was, whatever that might be. They were something that she had spent centuries trying to erase. And in taking over Gabrielle's body, she had hoped to accomplish that. Gabrielle did not understand it, but she knew she was right.

So did Mrtva.

The creature's head whipped back and forth between warrior and bard. Her hold over Xena's fear wavered as the realization that the bard could destroy her grew stronger.

It was a battle of the mind. Witch and bard were immobile, Gabrielle trying to overcome her pain to focus on the witch, Mrtva trying to block those attempts and continue to control Xena's fear. Xena, on the other hand, was still in shock after the bard's collapse, and hardly noticed that the panic was receding erratically. No outward activity betrayed the struggle that was taking place.

Thus they remained for what seemed like an eternity, until suddenly the witch's demeanor changed dramatically. She knew she was beaten, but she was not about to stick around and await her destruction. Her eyes took on a pale glow, and she whipped around, her hand lashing out, moving too fast for the eye to follow.

"I'll take this, you won't be needing it," Mrtva cackled as she snatched the pouch containing the Mirror of Phantasos from Xena's belt. And then she threw herself towards the still open portal before either of the women could react, and dove through.

The explosion took them by surprise.

From the portal shot a white hot, searing mass of light, burning their faces, forcing them to squeeze their eyes shut. The portal shook, the earth trembled as a low, roiling sound built up like an avalanche to climax in a deafening bang.

Warrior and bard were thrown back like rag dolls by a blast of intensely hot air.

Then, silence.

When they opened their eyes again, the portal and Mrtva were gone. Only a charred patch of ground remained where they had been, thin tendrils of smoke snaking up from it with tiny, dry hisses.

A host of objects, reminiscent of rather large, shimmering petals and at least as colorful, fluttered to the ground in a gentle shower. The tarot cards, miraculously untouched by the explosion. Every last one of them came to rest face up, largely unnoticed by a warrior and a bard who were struggling to recover their equilibrium.

"What happened?" Xena said, her ears ringing from the unexpected blast. Both women were rubbing their eyes to clear their vision of the brilliant white glare, as they staggered to dazedly to their feet. Xena gently caught hold of her friend's arm to steady her.

Gabrielle considered for a few moments, and then she caught on. "It was the mirror. I guess these mirrors don't like each other much, and when she tried to take one through a portal generated by the other..."

"Boom," Xena finished for her, emphasizing the word by splaying her fingers to mimick an explosion. "So much for making sure we don't follow her."

Gabrielle grinned crookedly, and got an answering grin in return.

"I wonder what made her decide to run all of a sudden," the warrior mused.

Gabrielle told her.

"That doesn't make much sense," said Xena.

"I know. But hey, no less sense than all the rest we've been through these last few days."

"Yeah, okay, I guess I can't argue with that." She paused. "But can we be sure she is really gone?"

"I don't know," said Gabrielle. "But I don't sense her any more. She is gone from my mind. It feels... weird. Empty, almost. But I'm glad," she added quickly.

They stood looking at the charred patch in silence, each lost in her own thoughts.

Presently the bard tilted her head and gave the warrior an impish look.

"Xena? Do we have some of that rabbit left? I'm starving."

The warrior shook her head and started back towards their camp, muttering under her breath about bards and appetites. She did not see Gabrielle stoop to pick up one of the cards that had landed close by, and look at it thoughtfully for a while before slipping it silently into her belt.

The Queen Of Swords. Xena's symbol.

*****

Meanwhile, on Mount Olympus

"Nice touch there, Nyx", Apollo said with a touch of sarcasm. "I almost thought they'd lose it when you switched them back.

Nyx sniffed. "I couldn't wait any longer, or they would have had to remain in each other's bodies," she said defensively.

"The timing was as it should be," Fate said enigmatically from under her hood. Again, no-one could say which aspect of her was with them today, although the somewhat stooped posture suggested Atropos.

A few gods looked at her with raised eyebrows, but the Mistress of the Tapestry offered no further explanation.

Once more they were watching Athena's moving image, that had showed them the latest events in brilliantly colored clarity.

Cupid, looking slightly distressed at all the hatred he had seen, was way at the back of the hall, idly twanging the string of his bow, to a few nervous flinches, causing Aphrodite to grin impishly. The Goddess of Love returned her attention to the image of warrior and bard making their way to their camp.

"Oh," Aphrodite breathed, "isn't she a hunk, though! Just get a load of that b..." Gazes swiveled to her all across the arena. "... beautiful outfit," the Goddess of Love finished with a smirk.

Zeus harrumphed loudly. "But what I would like to know, Fate," he thundered - Zeus always thundered when he spoke, it seemed. "What I would like to know is what happened down there?"

"A twist of Fate," said Fate wryly.

"Funny, Fate," Athena said. "But what creature was this Mrtva anyway? I've never seen anything like it."

"I can answer that," said Nyx. "She was of Morpheus' realm." She seemed reluctant. "She somehow got a hold of that Mirror, and escaped."

"Gee, Morpheus must've been sleeping at the time," Aphrodite quipped, chuckling at her own joke. No-one else did.

"She is a creature of hate," Fate said. "She was once a living being, and fell from grace. Now, that life of love has become but a bad dream to her, pushed deep down and long forgotten as her dark powers over dreamers in the living world grew. She should never have escaped."

She paused for effect.

"But, those very memories were her downfall. And it was the link she created to Gabrielle, this vile thing that would have enabled her to remain forever in the world of the living without losing her powers had she succeeded. It was this that helped the bard to make her conjure up those memories. And, rather than face complete unraveling of her being, she made a run for it. Shouldn't have tried to take the second mirror, though."

"Was that what the explosion was?" asked Gaea.

"And what about Xena?" said Ares. "What was up with her?"

Fate's head turned towards one, then the other, before she went on. "The Mirrors canceled each other out. They cannot be brought near each other without risking dangerous twists in reality. Taking one through the other - well, you saw. As for Xena, Mrtva was able to tap into her dark side to generate the fear that she fed off."

"Turning her into a quivering wimp while the bard had to save the day. Some warrior," Artemis mumbled. She looked smug. Ares looked like he was about to stick out his tongue.

"Well, it has been nice talking to you," Fate said wryly, "but I have to go. Considering this Mrtva doesn't even have a true Life Thread, she managed to tangle up my Tapestry something awful." She chuckled ruefully, before gliding slowly out the door.

Epilogue: Fate

"What on earth did you do that for?"

Xena had just come back from a short trip to refill their waterskins when Gabrielle presented her with the tarot deck she had carefully gathered back together.

The bard bristled. "I didn't want them to rot," she said sullenly. There was that patronizing tone again that Xena had been using on her before this latest adventure! She stifled a sigh. Some things, apparently, took a little more to change than simply a switch of identities, a creature from beyond their worst nightmares, and a threat to their very existence.

"It's only a few scraps of scroll, Gabrielle. What do you care?"

"Just because you have no use for then doesn't mean they're useless!" Gabrielle retorted.

"Whatever," said Xena, and proceeded to unsaddle and groom Argo with brisk, aggressive movements. Having finished that, she wordlessly went to the fire, where she sat down staring into the flames, brooding, her face expressionless. From time to time, she'd make a fist and bang it against her thigh, and her jaw muscle would twitch.

No question - Gabrielle had one distraught warrior on her hands, but she wasn't sure why. Had she not been so hurt by Xena's gruff rebuke about the cards earlier, she might have approached her and talked to her. Maybe she'd have massaged her friend's shoulders. That always seemed to relax her so nicely. But as it was, the bard, wearing a sullen frown, silently cleared away the dishes and put on water to make tea. The kettle rattled rather noisily in her hands as she crammed in a handful of herbs. Xena looked up briefly at the unaccustomed noise, but did not speak.

With the tea left to steep, Gabrielle rummaged in their bags for the mugs. When she did not find them immediately, she simply upturned the bag and dumped its contents on the ground in a clattering jumble of pewter bowls, silverware, tools, and the two objects of her search.

"What are you doing?" Xena grated.

"What does it look like?"

"Gabrielle..." The warrior's voice held menace and irritation.

Don't 'Gabrielle' me!"

The warrior's temper snapped. She gripped Gabrielle's arm roughly and swung her around to face her. "Gabrielle," she growled, consciously letting the frustration she felt tinge her voice, "Knock that off right now. Either you tell me what in Hades' name is bothering you, or you just snap out of it and stop sulking. I'm sick of this!"

"YOU're sick of this? What about me? What is wrong with you? I'm not the one who's been grouchy and insufferable for no good reason I can see."

"Grouchy and insufferable? I don't think you're being reasonable, Gabrielle.

Gabrielle's eyes flashed daggers at Xena. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but could find no reply. How dare she...?"Let go of me," she whispered harshly. With that, she twisted out of the warrior's weakening grasp and ran off into the woods.

Xena stood motionless for a long time, staring at the spot where the bard had disappeared. Then she crossed the short distance to where her gear was stacked, and unpacked her whetstone. Pulling her sword from its sheath, she sat down against the base of a tree, and started whisking the stone across the blade in slow, mechanical moves, looking sightlessly into the fire.

*****

"How dare she?" Gabrielle mumbled over and over again, as she staggered blindly through the forest, uncaring that brambles snagged her and tore at her skin.

She'd hoped for just a little show of emotion from the warrior. After all, they had been to Tartarus and back, all but literally, and had come through mostly unharmed. She'd wanted nothing more than to be held in the warrior's arms and just relax and let the tension go, after Mrtva had been consumed in that blast. But immediately, she had felt all of Xena's walls go up. Stubborn woman, stupid, cagey, stubborn woman!

Eventually, she came to a small gully that blocked her path, extending out of sight into thicker undergrowth on both sides. She clambered down the rocky ledge and sank down under a rocky outcrop, where she sat hugging her knees and staring listlessly at the opposite wall of the cleft.

She must have stayed there for a long time, hardly noticing how the shadows deepened; until the little gully was shrouded in gloom. Thus she almost missed the darker shadow when something above her moved. When an instant later, Xena dropped down soundlessly beside her, Gabrielle showed no reaction whatsoever.

At a loss, Xena squatted down at her side and stared at the ground.

"You about ready to come back?" she asked at last, when the silence was beginning to tear at even her nerves.

As if nothing had happened!

"What is it with you?" Gabrielle flared. "Every time I start thinking there is a person hiding underneath all that bronze and leather, you go and prove me wrong again. What in Tartarus is going on now? We've just been through a nightmare, we've won, and you're grouchier than a wet cat. I don't know why I still bother trying to understand you. You're better off killing people instead of relating to them. I think I might be better off where I'm not constantly reminded I'm just not worth talking to."

Xena had gone very still during the outburst. Now she grabbed Gabrielle roughly by the shoulders, eyes blazing. "Don't you ever, ever, think that, Gabrielle." The warrior took an unsteady breath, and another, and then after a visible struggle she let her hands travel up to gently cup the other woman's face. Gabrielle could feel the trembling in the other woman's hands. When Xena spoke, it was in deliberate, slow words. "You are the best thing that's happened to me...in a very long time. You've showed me a side of myself that I didn't know still existed. You gave me back...a reason for living. I don't know where I'd be without you." The last sentence was no more than a whisper.

Gabrielle swallowed, shaken. Wow! Talk about opening a floodgate! Did she just try to tell me what I thought she did? I've never seen her this intense. She thought her heart would jump out of her throat with giddy excitement.

Xena wasn't finished. "Look, I know I'm not very good at this, but I... I'm sorry if I made you feel... like I didn't care. Because I do. Very much. Now, I don't blame you if you want to leave. You deserve better than... this. I never understood why you put up with me as long as you did, but, the gods help me, I'm glad. And I will not keep you from starting a better life, if that's what you want." She blinked and turned away briskly, letting her hands drop. Gabrielle caught them quickly, and pulled the warrior back to face her.

"Look at me, Xena." Which the warrior did, unshed tears in her eyes. For once, Gabrielle found nothing to say. She released her hold on one of Xena's hands to stroke the warrior's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Sorry," she whispered. She found the other woman leaning into her touch, closing her eyes. I must be dreaming. No. I never dreamed... anything this intense. It must really be happening, then. Gabrielle tried to still her suddenly shaking hands and just let the emotion of the moment wash over her. "My choice," the bard said finally, "It was my choice to go with you. And it still is." She paused. "If you want. I just thought..."

Xena let out a shaky breath and wordlessly pulled Gabrielle into a tight hug. I really rattled her there, Gabrielle suddenly realized , and by the gods, I meant what I said, much as that bothers me now. I never expected...this. She is giving me the most precious thing she has to offer. Friendship. And trust. Love? Xena's breathing was strained as she was vainly trying to get a grip on herself. And there was a definite catch in her voice. "Don't leave me, my bard!" She buried her face in the smaller woman's red-gold hair.

Oh, Xena! Do we always have to start out fighting before we will allow ourselves to open up to each other? "I won't," the bard whispered against the warrior's collarbone, "Not in this life. Or the one after." Gods, I love her. I do. Maybe I'll even bring myself to tell her some time.

She could feel the warriors shoulders softly shaking, knew her to be crying, unable to hold back her own tears, and not caring. She felt Xena's lips brush the top of her head. "It was terrible, standing there and being too afraid to even move. We were in danger, and I could not do a thing. I'm a warrior. It's all I know. Why couldn't I fight? Why couldn't I protect you?"

"So that's it, is it," Gabrielle said softly. "Xena, there are some enemies that can't be fought with battle skills. And it's not like I'm a helpless child anymore, you know."

"I know. But... I can't bear the thought of you having to... of something happening to you that I can't stop."

"There is always that possibility, Xena. We both knew that when I teamed up with you."

Xena was silent for a while. "I know, I know, it's just... Hades, I don't know." Another pause. "Sorry I'm always being such a grouch. I'm just not used to... being close to people. Having people get under my skin. I prefer to keep them at arm's length" She shrugged. "It's always been easier that way."

"Now there's a piece of news". Gabrielle looked up at her, sniffling and red-eyed but smiling, and gave her a playful cuff in the ribs.

Xena smiled back, a glimmer in those startling blue eyes that Gabrielle had not seen there before. "Already noticed that, huh? I must be an easy read," she added thoughtfully. Her voice was steadier already.

Gabrielle burst out laughing. "You?? Yeah. Sure. About as easy as a blank wall. Though, come to think of it, I'd have less trouble with the wall." She gazed fondly at Xena. "But it's worth the effort."

"It is, is it?" Xena was definitely back in control now. Her blue-eyed gaze was bright as a starling's, and twice as mischievous. It seemed some wall had finally broken down, and allowed some of the woman underneath to emerge. Gabrielle was determined to bask in that while it lasted. A slight tensing of the warrior's body was all the warning the smaller woman had, before she was scooped up by a pair of strong arms.

"Whoa! What are you doing?"

Xena was grinning openly now. "I was thinking why don't we just mosey on over to the fire and have some tea? Should be about done by now." She winked.

"Gods! I bet it's a pretty darn strong tea by now." And then the bard gave a startled yell as Xena launched herself into the air, cleared the rocky overhang, and took off back towards the camp in a steady, ground-eating lope.

*****

Later that evening, Gabrielle was lying on her belly busily writing up the latest events. Xena lounged against the base of a tree mending a piece of armor, Gabrielle very conscious of the warrior watching her out of the corner of her eye. The bard suddenly smiled to herself. This was asking for trouble, but...

"Hey, know what?" she said, propping herself up on one elbow, "I just figured something out. About you."

"Umhmmm," Xena turned her head a little, regarding the bard. "What's that?"

Gabrielle gave her an impish grin. "You're really just a big softie, aren't you?" Her grin grew as she saw Xena's eyebrows shoot up, as expected.

"Am I, now," the dark warrior purred dangerously.

"Yeah, I mean it. Under all that no-nonsense, intimidating, hard-as-a-hammer warlord act of yours is just a basically nice, softhearted woman vainly struggling to get out." She suddenly had to giggle, picturing a tiny little naked warlord frantically jumping and waving her arms inside the larger, hollow one, clawing without success at those walls of emotional steel.

Xena barked a laugh in spite of herself. "You are incorrigible, bard." Knowing the tease for what it was, she drew her eyebrows together and wiped her face clean of any mirth, giving Gabrielle another attempt at the 'Look'. And failing. "Don't let me catch you saying that where anyone can hear. I might have to do something... drastic to you, my storytelling friend."

"Like what?" the bard asked, still giggling.

She never saw Xena move. In a flash, the warrior was upon her, pinning her to the ground with a knee on her ribcage. "Like... this!"

Gabrielle gasped, and giggled harder. "Oh, no fair! No tickling... Hey! Cut that out!" She tried bravely to get her hands up to respond in kind, but Xena simply grabbed her two slender wrists in one hand, and continued her work with the other, a feral light in her eyes. "Yield?"

"Are you kidding?" Gabrielle managed between fits of laughter, "I've almost got you!"

"Is that so?" Xena asked mildly, her free hand wriggling and wandering.

"Well I...AAHEEHEEHEEEEAAAAYA!"

The warrior's lips quirked. "Gotta remember that spot. Now," she continued menacingly, "what were you planning on doing to me once you 'almost' have me? Well? I'm listening." She continued her tickling mercilessly.

Gabrielle was laughing helplessly, unable to answer, and suddenly very conscious of Xena's face so close to her. When she found a second to catch her breath, she said softly, "I've one more thing up my sleeve, warrior." And raising her head up, planted a sound kiss right on the warrior's mouth.

Xena just barely avoided banging her head on a protruding branch when she jumped up, caught completely off guard.

Gabrielle felt her face grow hot. "Gods, Xena, I'm sorry. I... I don't know what made me do that. It's..."

Xena, though more rattled than she let on, was quick to recover. "Gabrielle, that's okay."

"Gods! It's just happened. I don't know what I was thinking. Nothing, probably. I never think. And I'm babbling again. I...."

"Gabrielle!"

"...know. But you were... I mean, I was... And..."

Xena sighed. Gabrielle wasn't even looking at her as she spoke, or she would have seen the slow smile spread on her friend's face. Then the warrior found a way to silence her, by tenderly capturing Gabrielle's mouth with her own. All Gabrielle could think about for a very long moment was how wonderful and soft those lips where, and how gentle those hands that she had seen breaking bones with negligent ease. She could feel Xena's heart pounding through the shift she had donned for the night, keeping beat with her own.

"Hey," Xena said, smiling, as they finally separated, "I believe I have your attention now, so listen! You surprised me, that's all. Don't be sorry."

"I'm not, really," Gabrielle admitted a little breathlessly, "I've been wanting to do this. For a long time."

"Yeah. Me too."

Gabrielle just gazed at her friend, well aware that she must have a very silly grin on her face, drinking in the sight of her, enjoying the giddy feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She poked Xena's arm with a finger.

"Surprised you, huh? Never thought I'd see the day, warrior."

"Gabrielle, believe me, you surprise me at every turn," was the warrior's wry reply. Then she took a long breath, and grew serious. "You still haven't told me what was bothering you." She traced the bard's jawline with her index finger.

"Well, you weren't asking very politely, before." At that, Xena looked a little sheepish. "I know. Sorry about that. I was trying... oh, never mind. I'm sorry."

Gabrielle gave her a tiny smile. "That didn't work out quite the way you planned, did it?"

The warrior shrugged. "Nope. Guess it didn't." She flashed the bard a wolfish grin. "But somehow, I don't really mind that much. Now." She pulled the bard closer, and Gabrielle relaxed against her. Xena smelled faintly of the herbs she put into her healing ointment, and of leather. And of Xena. An intoxicating mixture.

"So, you think I'm a softie, do you?" the Warrior Princess murmured huskily. Gabrielle giggled. Xena pulled the bard in for another light kiss, and started stroking her neck with gentle, competent fingers. "Well," she purred, "how's that for a softie?" Gabrielle felt a pleasant tingle run down her spine. She ran her hand along the warrior's arm, and marveled at the velvety softness of Xena's skin over those powerful biceps.

"I don't know," Gabrielle said lightly, "You might want to loosen up a bit more. I didn't quite get that last part, so could you...? AAAWWWK!!" She was cut off by the warrior's quick tickle. Xena had indeed remembered the spot.

*****

Xena allowed herself a contented sigh as she put her bowl aside, and set about greasing Argo's saddle. She watched in some amusement as Gabrielle ladled yet another generous portion of the thoroughly cooked but still tasty stew into her own bowl.

"Goodness, Gabrielle! Where do you put all that stuff?"

"Hey, looking after you is hard work," the bard replied around a mouthful. "Besides, don't think I didn't notice that your three portions were much larger than mine."

Xena arched an eyebrow. "So you get to have another two to make it even, huh?"

"Umhmmm."

Xena watched the bard finish the last of the stew in an amazingly short time, and chuckled to herself as Gabrielle took a crust of bread to clean her bowl.

"There. All gone," Gabrielle said finally, "Now perhaps I could get you to stop your incessant chatter for a bit so I can get some work on my scrolls done." She squatted down by her blanket and rummaged in her bag to get out her ink and quill.

The warrior's mouth quirked. "I'll see what I can do." Then she noticed something lying by the bard's scrolls, and crossed over to Gabrielle to pick it up.

"Shouldn't we get rid of these?" She held up the deck of tarot cards, and gestured towards the fire.

Gabrielle sat up quickly and laid a gentle hand on the warrior's arm. "No, don't. Please?"

Xena snorted. "They're evil, Gabrielle. I won't trust anything that woman touched."

"It's not the cards that are evil. You should know that, of all people."

"How's that?"

Gabrielle caught her eyes, and touched the dagger Xena still had tucked away between her breasts. "Would you say that's good, or evil?"

"You know that's not the way it works, Gabrielle. It's not the weapon that's either good or evil. It's what the wielder uses it for that... Oh. All right. I get your point. But still, I don't know...."

"Besides, these are beautiful," Gabrielle persisted, "It would be a shame. And they told the truth, too. About us, I mean. So far, that is." She blushed.

Xena looked at the deck again, then at the fire, then at Gabrielle, for a long moment. And shrugged. She handed the deck to Gabrielle. "You're right. These are beautiful. I wonder what she did to the person that made them."

"Ahem." The voice behind them made them both start. From seemingly out of nowhere, another dagger had appeared in the warrior's hand.

There stood a middle-aged woman of rather plain appearance, regarding them benignly. She wore a dark, hooded cloak with the hood drawn back. "I believe you two have something that belongs to me."

Xena quickly appraised the situation. She looked at the woman quizzically, taking in her appearance, and the fact that she must have just popped up out of nowhere for her to not have heard her approach, and said, "Let me guess. You're a goddess. Fate, I suppose. The middle one. Lachesis. Am I right?" An eyebrow was raised in question.

"Quite right, child. Now, can I have my cards back? They don't belong in this time. I don't know what Chronos was thinking when he... oh, never mind. Well?" She extended her hand.

Gabrielle, speechless for once, handed the deck to her, casting a last longing look at it. There was Fate's symbol, lying topmost. The Ghost, the Great Unknown. It figured.

"Hold on a minute," Xena said, "Did you have a hand in all this?"

Lachesis arched an eyebrow, imitating the warrior. "Considering who I am, what do you think?" Then she smiled a very human, sheepish smile. "To tell the truth, that was quite a tangle you got into there. Had one heck of a time sorting it all out."

"Um. Lachesis," Gabrielle cleared her throat. "I would like to ask you something. This Mrtva. Who...what exactly is she?"

Lachesis gazed at her intently, then sighed. "Mrtva just... happened. She is not even truly alive. I was busy rearranging the Tapestry elsewhere, and she just popped up as an unwanted side effect. Even the material of her thread seems different." It seemed that for a moment Lachesis had forgotten the two women. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear it wasn't a fresh thread, but a used one...need to talk to Hades about that..."

"Then why didn't you just remove her again? I mean, you're Fate. You could do that, couldn't you?" Xena shot her a warning look, which the bard missed.

"Actually, I couldn't. Cutting and removing threads is Atropos' specialty. But even we must abide by our own rules, and play out her thread. We can't just take her back. She has already had her effect on the weaving. If I just remove her thread from the Tapestry of Life, the Pattern may lose a all cohesion and... just collapse. We definitely don't want that to happen."

"Oh," Gabrielle said.

Lachesis suddenly drew herself up and loomed over the bard menacingly, causing her to take a backward step. "But if you breathe a word of this, bard, I will tie some knots in your thread that will have you hung up good. I mean it. So no silly stories about a misstep of the Fates, do I make myself clear?"

Gabrielle swallowed and nodded. She noticed Xena had taken a step to position herself closer to Gabrielle, her body radiating menace. That got Lachesis' attention, and she fixed her glare on the dark-haired woman.

"Oh, and one more thing, Warrior Princess: Try not to draw any god's attention just now. They get a little touchy about owing favors to mortals. Got that?"

"I bet they do," Gabrielle blurted. Then she flushed bright red. "Um, no offense, Fate."

"None taken, for now, little bard. Be well, both of you." And with that, she was gone.

"I can't believe that just happened," Gabrielle breathed, recovering after a stunned silence.

"You'd better," Xena told her dryly. "And I rather think Fate has taken a liking to you, or she would have tied you in knots then and there, and not just threatened you with it."

"How'd you know it was her, anyway?" the bard asked.

Xena shrugged. "Lucky guess."

"Yeah. Right."

"Well, woman appearing out of nowhere, had to be a goddess. It wasn't Aphrodite, or Artemis, or Athena. And we both know it wasn't Nyx, or Eris either. And the rest really was a lucky guess." Xena said defensively.

Gabrielle gave her a reproachful look. "I hate it when you're always right." Then her eyes caught something white on the ground. "Look, Xena, she forgot this." Gabrielle indicated the deck of cards still lying where Lachesis had stood.

The warrior pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Somehow, I don't think she did. Take them, Gabrielle." And when the bard hesitated, "Go on! She must have meant them to be for you."

"Wow," Gabrielle breathed, as she picked up the cards gingerly. "But why? I thought she said they belong in another time."

Xena pulled up an eyebrow. "Perhaps she's just making sure a certain storyteller remembers her warning." This with a meaningful look at the bard.

"Not likely to forget that," Gabrielle replied. "Phew! And I thought you were intimidating." She flashed the warrior a quick grin.

Xena shrugged again, and returned the grin. "I try."

*****

Night had long fallen over their camp, and Gabrielle, after having moved her bedroll next to Xena's, was snuggled up comfortably close to where the silent warrior now sat, staring silently at the flames.

"Did I really deserve it?" Xena asked suddenly, idly poking the fire with a stick.

"Deserve what?" Gabrielle muttered, already half-asleep.

"A chance."

"Oh, that," Gabrielle replied. And then, with a sleepy smile, "'Course you did."

Xena's eyes found the bard's green, open and trusting, and something broke down inside her. With sudden clarity it came to her that she was ready to give herself completely to this woman, with everything that entailed. All she had to do was take a leap down that sheer cliff of emotion, and open her heart. Swallowing, she did.

And felt something settle down inside her heart, and snuggle up comfortably in a spot that Xena knew had been reserved for it since the beginning of time. It felt... right.

There was a small pause. "And, Xena?" Blue eyes turned to the bard, questioning. "Promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"The next time it looks like I'm going to make a fool out of myself by blindly trusting some stranger, promise me you'll give me a swift kick in the butt? Before I get a chance to actually go and do it?"

The warrior laughed, a low throaty chuckle. "One condition."

"And that being...?"

Xena turned serious. "If I ever look like I'm gonna shut up tight on you again, you give me a whack with that staff. Right here." She knocked her forehead with her fist, hard enough to make a little hollow sound. "And don't hold back."

It was Gabrielle's turn to laugh. She pulled herself up on one elbow, and cuffed her friend lightly in the arm. "You drive a hard bargain, Warrior Princess. But it's a deal."

The End

Author's Note: Okay, this has been a long, dark, and hard Od(d)yssee <G>, and there are a few people to whom I owe thanks for being so patient with it, and for taking the time to go through it, pointing out the gazillion problems. So, PD, Ezzie, Michal, Kam and Katia, here's to you. And thanks also go to Mayn for repeated prods to get the h*** on with it, although he might as well have kicked a bale of hay for all the good it did ;-)
Oh, and in case you wondered: 'mrtva' is the Czech female word for 'dead'

Comments? I'm at Verrath@gmx.de

(Completed November 11, 2000)