UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF EVIL
by Norsebard
Contact norsebarddk@gmail.com
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DISCLAIMERS:
The characters of Xena and Marcus from the TV show 'Xena Warrior Princess' belong to Studio USA/Renaissance Pictures/Universal or whoever actually owns them now. Ares, the God of War is a mythological character and therefore belongs to no one. No infringement on anyone's rights is intended. All other characters are created by myself, and belong to me.
NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR:
Written: December 8th - 9th, 2023 for the 2023 Royal Academy Of Bards' X&G Winter Solstice Challenge.
Thank you very much for your help, Phineas Redux!
As usual, I'd like to say a great, big THANK YOU to my mates at AUSXIP Talking Xena, especially to the gals and guys in Subtext Central. I really appreciate your support - Thanks, everybody! :D
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UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF EVIL
Seven winters ago.
Xena's sword glistened with the blood drawn from the fallen enemy at her feet. The officer had been the last of their opponents to dare make a counterattack in the large-scale battle that had raged across a stretch of meadowland since just after dawn. Five candlemarks had gone by with nothing but blood, death and despair. The officer had paid for his bravery with his life, and the final slaying made the few remaining opposing soldiers throw down their own swords and surrender.
Soon, the familiar chant of "Xena! Xena! Xena!" rolled across the meadows in the coarse voices of the men on the winning side. The chant continued until the Warrior Princess acknowledged it by thrusting her sword high in the air.
Once the chanting had ended, the task of rounding up the few prisoners began. Those who were wounded were killed off at once while those who had merely been captured would be stripped down to the bare essentials so they couldn't slip away unnoticed - those men would be sold to slave traders who always paid a handsome dinar for strapping young fellows.
Xena wiped the blood off her sword on her fallen opponent's tunic before she twirled it and stuck it into the scabbard on her hip. Wearing golden armor and a bright-red cape, she was always the natural center of attention on any battlefield. The peacock-like appearance was fully by design as she preferred their opponents to seek her out instead of needing to waste time looking for someone worthy of killing.
Her fear-inducing Chakram was coated in blood as well, but she concluded her grim business at the body of the slain officer by wiping off the circular weapon on the only remaining clean part of his uniform. "Marcus! Sarritah! Give me all the news you have! On the double!" she barked as she strode over to a small section of the battlefield where some of her men had put up tables to use as support for their maps.
On her way there, she grabbed hold of another of her lieutenants, a bearded veteran of countless campaigns. "Democles, ride back to camp and inform them of our victory. Tell the supply train wagoneers to pack up and move forward. Also order the reserves to come here at once. We have no time to waste."
"Yes, Xena," Democles said and thumped his fist against his chest.
Xena kept an eye on the soldier running to his horse before she resumed her stride over to the tables and the tactical maps that awaited her there. She was soon studying how far they had come and what they still needed to accomplish.
The campaign objective was simple: to capture the region's main sea port so they could seize the merchant fleet and thus control much of the flow of goods in and out of the hostile territory.
The first of her lieutenants - Marcus, a tall, powerful fellow who hailed from one of the kingdoms in Central Africanus - stepped forward and saluted Xena by thumping his fist against his chest. "It appears two of King Worlan's units ran away to escape the carnage. Counting the dead and the prisoners, the cowards cannot number more than ten to fifteen men in each unit."
"Ran away like cowards or carried out a planned withdrawal, Marcus?" Xena said coolly. "The difference could be your neck. Deploy a fresh cavalry unit and the best scouts to track them down. Kill them all. Nobody can be allowed to return to King Worlan with news of our location."
"Yes, Xena," Marcus said and hurried over to the cavalry commanders to relay the orders.
Xena studied the maps once more until a filthy, bloodied Sarritah moved up to stand next to her. When the fierce-looking former Amazon remained silent, Xena narrowed her eyes down into blue slits. "Don't waste my time, Sarritah. How did your shock troops fare?"
Once a senior member of a tribe on the southern coast of the Black Sea high in the Pontian mountain range, Sarritah wore that region's traditional garb. Unlike the traditional feathers of the Greek tribes, the mountain Amazons wore pale animal skins over several layers of pale-brown cloth. Her face and arms bore war paint in the shape of diagonal black stripes. "They fared well. We lost a handful but killed every opponent foolish enough to attack us," she said in a rich, melodic voice that held quite a strong accent of her motherland.
"And the blood on you?"
"None of it is mine."
"Good. Once the supply train has arrived and the tents have been put up, you can pick your spoils of victory among the prisoners," Xena said before she turned back to the maps.
After bowing her head, Sarritah strode away to return to her group of mercenaries that included such charming characters as renegade Roman Centurions, land-locked pirates, gladiators from the provinces around Northern and Central Africanus, and even semi-illiterate barbarians from as far away as Germanica.
Despite the noisy hubbub going on all around her, Xena focused on the maps. She thumped an index finger onto their present location, then she moved it toward the shoreline. "Less than three leagues over mostly flat terrain," she said to herself as she studied the details on the map. "One forest. Two forward lines of defense guarded by peasant militia. Their annihilation and our victory are certain-"
'Oooh, I love it when you talk dirty,' a disembodied voice said an inch or so from Xena's ear.
A moment later, the familiar crackling of blue ozone heralded the arrival of Ares, the God of War. As befitting of such an important member of the Greek pantheon, he was tall, beefy and sublimely charismatic. Black leather graced his buff body from the boots and all the way up to his tall collar. His bulging arms were soon crossed over his chest to add even more gravitas to his presence. "My, my… this was a fine skirmish. You did well today, Xena. I'm proud of you."
Xena turned around to stand toe-to-toe with Ares. Most would cower or perhaps even throw themselves into the dirt when faced by the powerful God of War, but she barely even batted an eyelid. "I did better than well, Ares. We killed them all."
"Ah, that would be nearly all, Xena. Some were able to use the fog of war to escape the battlefield."
Grunting, Xena waved her hand in dismissal. "They won't get far. And then they'll be killed with the rest of them."
"True," Ares said and broke out in a grin. He lowered his arms to put his hands on his belt instead. "Your men and Sarritah's mercenaries are busy drinking and plundering the corpses, but what are your plans for tonight?"
"Should I have any particular plans, Ares?"
A nasty smile spread over the God's features. "Why, it's almost Winter Solstice Eve, Xena! Isn't that a magnificent day to commit wholesale slaughter? Think of all those families gathered in prayer or at the supper tables. They'll be unaware of the fate of their sons, brothers and fathers. All the hatred it'll create when they find out! It warms my heart thinking ahead to the future battles fought as revenge for this particular one."
Xena furrowed her brow as she took in the sight of the bodies that were thrown onto piles with no respect for the people they once were. Some were her own men, but nine out of ten belonged to the opposing side.
"I spoke to Hades before I got here," Ares continued, "and he and Charon are very impressed with your kill tally. They're even considering naming a section of Tartarus after you! Wouldn't that be amazing?"
"Today is Winter Solstice Eve?" Xena said, once more looking at the casualties of war.
Ares narrowed his eyes as he studied the form of his latest student. "I sense doubt in you, Xena. It doesn't become you. Doubt is the most lethal opponent on any battlefield. It's the one weapon that will always lead to a messy death. Never forget that."
"I haven't forgotten anything," Xena said with a sneer as she returned to the maps. "And you can't sense doubt because I don't have time to second-guess myself. Or anyone else, for that matter. We're in the middle of a bloody campaign, Ares! A campaign you ordered!"
Ares let out a nasty laugh as he slid up behind his favorite female warrior. Leaning in to put his clenched fists on the map, he made sure to press his entire body against Xena's. "Yes. A violent, bloody, merciless campaign to take control of the region," he said into her ear. "And such a wonderful job you're doing, too. You and another of my apprentices, Sarritah."
"She might be, but I'm nobody's apprentice."
"You're at the head of the class, I'll give you that, but you're still my apprentice. And watching you gives me such pleasure," Ares said in a sexy, dangerous voice.
Xena let out a long sigh. "Go find a wench to play with, Ares. And do it somewhere else. I have work to do."
Chuckling at the characteristic display of single-mindedness, Ares moved away from the warrior. "I will. Don't you worry about me. Until next time, Xena… and remember, I'll be watching." The crackle of ozone was soon repeated and the God of War disappeared in a blue flash.
Xena remained at the table for a few moments longer before she thumped a fist onto the collection of maps and scrolls. "Marcus! Get over here!" she barked over her shoulder.
Her lieutenant joined her before long. As usual, the experienced soldier saluted her by thumping a fist against his chest.
Turning around, Xena mirrored Ares's earlier stance by crossing her arms over her chest. "Marcus, pay attention now. Once the evening has progressed further, you and I will ride to town under a flag of truce. The town elders probably won't speak to me or Sarritah, so I want you to deal with them. I want you to tell them where they can find their dead-"
"But-"
"Before we do that, I want you to rearrange the piles of bodies so all opponents are separated from our own men-"
"What for? Let Hades sort them out-"
"Do you question my orders, Marcus?" Xena said in a voice so icy it was a wonder the air didn't freeze over.
Marcus could do nothing but hold a wide-eyed stare at the Warrior Princess for the first several moments - it took a while before he could even shake his head. "Of course not, Xena… that would be stupid of me."
"You're right. It would. Questioning my orders is the best way to lose your head. Do as I've told you. Now!"
"Yes, Xena," Marcus said and once again saluted his superior.
As the lieutenant ran away to execute the orders - it wouldn't be an easy sell to convince the tired and increasingly drunk mercenaries to start over with the bodies - Xena strode across the meadows to get to the highest point.
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Once she had reached a small hill that gave her an adequate look of the next stretch of the terrain, she shielded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun. The roofs of the medium-sized village she could see in the middle distance would undoubtedly be the homes of the peasant militia that Sarritah's mercenaries had annihilated.
The soldiers she and her own unit had cut down were on King Worlan's payroll and were thus expected to fight and die for their ruler. A peasant militia was a completely different thing - they didn't ride or march into battle for some faraway King who would never dream of setting foot outside his lush castle, but to defend their homes and families.
Xena couldn't help but flash back to the day and night where evil had entered her life. To the grim scenes that saw her and Lyceus trying to make a stand against Cortese and his raiders. As the first rays of light finally conquered the darkness the following morning, Lyceus was dead, Amphipolis was lost and Xena had taken her first steps on the path that would lead her to where and who she was now - as the aggressor, not the defender.
Although several columns of gray smoke rose from chimneys around the village, there were no residents in sight anywhere and no alarm bells were ringing. A well-trodden riding path some 300 fathoms to the right of her position seemed to be the regular entryway into the village. In a raid, she would have everyone rushing across the open ground in a crescent formation to bypass chokepoints or ambushes, but since it was a very different kind of mission, the riding path would be ideal.
A persistent grumbling reached her ears. Turning around, she listened to the battle-hardened veterans who weren't pleased about the fact they had been kicked away from their wine and ale to wade through the bloodied corpses for a second time. They carried out their grim task, but it was clear to see and hear that a seed of discontent had been sown.
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One and a half candlemarks went by. Apollo's chariot was well on its way toward the western horizon. Although the sky was clear at present, Xena's keen eyes noticed a front slowly moving in from the east. The winds had already picked up and the ambient temperature seemed to drop - her experience told her it could end in snow flurries as the approaching clouds would have traveled far over the sea that had recently turned cold.
She had returned to the table that held the maps. The small village just across the meadows was so insignificant it hadn't been named and was in fact hardly marked at all. Her sword was soon removed from its scabbard and put across the table in preparation for the special mission.
Marcus joined Xena at the map table bringing a pair of chestnut mares and a strip of white cloth that had been attached to a thin branch he had chopped off a nearby tree. The Amazon Sarritah followed a moment later astride her war horse - she had left her blade and tribal daggers behind, but Marcus still carried his regular sword on his hip.
"Being armed under a flag of truce will make you a target for anyone wielding as much as a slingshot, Marcus," Xena said as she swung herself up into the saddle. The mare was soon under full control through the reins and the bootheels that pressed against its side.
"Unlike you and the fierce Amazon here, I need a weapon to defend myself," Marcus said in a surly tone. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the Chakram that remained on Xena's hip. "And that thing there is much more lethal than my blade will ever be."
Xena let out a dark chuckle as she turned the mare around to face her lieutenant. "Yes, but they don't know it's a weapon, Marcus. That gives us an advantage if talking turns to fighting. Let's ride."
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The path into the village proved undefended, and Xena, Sarritah and Marcus rode past the first hovels and onto a small central square without seeing anyone anywhere. The three raiders moved their horses around so they could cover all angles in case of a sneak attack, but it was a waste of time as nothing happened.
"They must have fled," Sarritah said as she turned her war horse around once more.
"Not with the hearths burning," Xena said, pointing up at the columns of smoke.
Sarritah moved her horse fifteen paces away from the others before she came back. "Good point. I'll take a closer look."
As the Amazon rode off, Marcus steered his horse over to Xena. He continued to hold the flag of truce high even if no one was around to see it. "This gives me the creeps… we've wandered into a ghost town!"
"If you don't have the guts for the job at hand, run back to our forward post and let the women handle it!" Xena said through clenched teeth - Marcus's stunned silence was reply enough.
Xena soon grew annoyed with the eerie state of the village, so she dismounted and strode over to the central spot of the small square. Villages in the rural regions tended to grow organically around a natural spring that would eventually turn into the community well once enough people had settled there, but no well was present which meant they weren't self-sustained when it came to water. The fields and meadows surrounding the village weren't home to crops or livestock, either, so it seemed they were wholly dependant on the graces of King Worlan to keep them fed.
"Villagers! We come in peace! All we want is to talk to your elders!" she yelled loud enough to stir the slumbering Titans. When nothing happened, she let out a grunt of frustration.
'Xena,' Ares suddenly said in Xena's ear - she spun around to look for the God of War but found herself all alone. 'Just what in the name of all things unholy is this supposed to be? My favorite warrior going on a… what? A mission of mercy? It makes my stomach churn!'
"Then don't watch, Ares."
'Oh, that's rich… don't quit your day job. Just take those torches over there and burn this pitiful excuse for a village to the ground. Kill them all. It's not like you haven't done it before.'
"So there are still people hiding here?"
'Well, of course there are. Womenfolk, children and cripples. They're all who are left after your magnificent work out on the meadow.'
A grim mask fell over Xena's face as she stared at the hovels lining the small square. "We've come under a flag of truce! We're just here to talk to your village elders!" The shouted words rolled across the open space without any kind of response.
'Save your breath, Xena. The town elders are all crowding poor Charon. There's only standing room left in his ferry… and you know what he's like when he's stressed out. It's not a pleasant sight.'
Xena let out a strong "Pah!" that was immediately followed by a "Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass about that-"
A sudden crackle of blue ozone heralded Ares' arrival at the scene.
Spooked by the noise and the surprise appearance, Xena's horse reared up and tried to throw its rider. It was nothing the Warrior Princess's steed hadn't tried a dozen times before, so she brought it back under control with a few hard tugs on the reins - even so, it continued to sidestep for a short while.
Ares moved around the horse to put his hand on Xena's thigh. "I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish here. You and your army are less than three leagues from the sea port and King Worlan's castle. It's the final push needed to win the campaign. After today's glorious slaughter, you have the King's troops outnumbered. You and your men are ready. Winter's coming so it has to be now or else the momentum will be lost. Why all this nonsense?"
"You may see it as nonsense, Ares, but I see it as…" Pausing, Xena looked at the hovels. Everyone stayed far away from the fearsome-looking strangers, but a light had been lit in one of the windows a short distance from her spot. "As atonement for killing their family members on Winter Solstice Eve."
"Ah yes. Their poor, poor family members. Excuse me while I vomit," Ares said, rolling his eyes repeatedly. "Need I remind you they attacked you with pitchforks, hammers and spades? One of those peasants even wielded a rake of all things! It did look amusing stuck in his rib cage, though." Waving his hand, the God of War created a pale-blue ball of energy that showed the supposedly amusing incident in question. Clenching his fist made it disappear.
"Xena, I'm warning you," he continued in a harder voice. "You're letting your conscience get the better of you. Do not go down that path. It will lead to your destruction."
"So be it!"
"No! I cannot and will not allow it. Besides, the fire within you can't be snuffed out just like that, even if you seem to think so. That fire is your soul, Xena. It's the blood coursing through your veins. It's who you are. You are my undisputed champion on this Earth whether you like it or not. You always will be, regardless of what you call yourself. Regardless of how many of these soul-cleansing ego trips you go on."
"Then I'll kill myself, Ares. That'll leave you empty-handed."
"It most certainly won't, because it's nothing a quick trip to the Underworld can't fix. I can do that forever and a day if I have to." The God of War let out a dark, chilling laugh as he eyed the woman atop the chestnut mare - a sly smile spread across his ruggedly handsome features. "There's no escaping me, Xena… we are one. You're under my influence and will be so until I decide otherwise. You better embrace that notion because our connection will never grow weaker. Ever."
Xena let out a long sigh. Although she shook her head, it was with less conviction than she had wanted. "I know I can't purge you from my life that easily… it's not yet time. But I'm telling you right now, the day will come where the connection is broken and I'll be the master of my own destiny."
"Oh, enough of this touchy-feely nonsense!" Ares barked before he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your men are upset. Use your many skills to rally them so you can advance toward the sea port and the King's castle. You move out tomorrow at dawn. It's a three-day march with no opposition to speak of until you reach the castle's walls. I command you to carry out my plans, Xena!"
The God of War disappearing in his regular blue cloud left the village square eerily silent once more. The Amazon Sarritah soon returned to the square astride her war horse. "I found a few pockets of villagers, Xena. Mostly children with a few young adults. No men and certainly no elders. Everyone's scared witless of us. This is a waste of our time."
Xena gave the hovels lining the square a final glance before she turned her chestnut mare around. "I agree. Our time is better spent drinking and whoring. Alert your mercenaries… we set off on the final leg of our campaign at dawn tomorrow. And we won't stop until we feast in King Worlan's grand hall!"
"Yes, Xena. We shall succeed."
"With the God of War on our side, we cannot lose," Xena said, nudging her bootheels into the mare's flanks to make her set off at walking pace. They moved away from the central square that remained as devoid of life as it had been when they got there.
The fierce women were soon joined by Marcus who threw the flag of truce onto the filthy ground as they rode out of the village.
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THE END.