By Phineas Redux
Contact – phineasredux003@Gmail.com
—OOO—
Summary:— Xena and Gabrielle go to the aid of a small village in the northern Germanic region which, they are informed, is being terrorised by a notorious Demon.
Note:— There is some light swearing in this tale.
Disclaimer:— MCA/Universal/RenPics, or whoever, own all copyrights to everything related to ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and I have no rights to them.
—O—
Friendly interchanges between the various groups of Germanic tribes and Rome had reached a crushing low. Recently three full Legions of Rome’s army had been comprehensively defeated and slaughtered almost to a man in the region, curtesy of a combined grouping of German warriors, and Rome had, hardly surprisingly, taken umbrage. Xena and Gabrielle, who had both been intimately involved in this tragic disaster, on the Germanic side, had decided politically to stay with one of the northern tribes of Germania for a while, just to play safe rather than end up in the Colosseum arena with only a pack of hungry lions as compatriots.
At the moment, on a chill frosty morning amongst the dense forest stretching for parasangs all round, the warrior women sat outside their hut on the edge of the little conglomeration of such that called itself a village while Gabrielle read a scroll just delivered from a passing merchant’s cart.
“Came through a scattered community just over a day ago.” The merchant taking advantage of Gabrielle’s offer of a beaker of wine to wet his whistle. “The Chieftain seemed in a bit of a tizzy, gave me thet scroll an’ said find ye both come what may an’ argue ye in’ta visitin’ smart’s ye find convenient. Thanks fer the wine, bye.”
Xena, occupied whittling a thin stick for reasons only she understood, paused in this interesting if not entirely useful hobby to gaze at her partner, already head down immersed in the scroll’s message.
“Don’t keep it t’yourself, dear. Gim’me a clue, at least.”
“What? Oh, yeah, sure.”
Another lengthy pause filtered through the local atmosphere like a morning mist.
“Gab?”
“Eh?”
“Gab?”
“Was’sat? What? I’m readin’ here, woman!”
“Gab?”
“F-ck! What, woman? Can’t a gal read a bloody scroll of a mornin’ now, without bein’ badgered from the sidelines? Gim’me space, woman!”
Another pause.
“Gab?”
“Oh, Gods! I give up! So what, dear? An’ I use that last epithet in its loosest possible degree, jus’ so’s ya know!”
This time Xena, wily as an old fox, simply sat mute, staring intently at the woman professing to be her better half; saying nothing but silently exuding a determination to keep her end up whatever the case might be. Overwhelmed by this flood of intellectual moral resolve the Amazon Queen on the receiving end finally twisted her bare shoulders uncomfortably in response, looking sideways at her loved partner.
“OK, I get it. Ya wan’na know what the scroll has t’say, eh? Always a gossip searchin’ for more intrigue t’assuage your appetite, ain’t ya?”
Xena laughed in that low deep tone which was all hers.
“Gal, if I had your imagination I’d give up Warriorin’ t’write myself; be a great success, o’course, an’ eventual buy my own country villa on the proceeds. Tell me what the dam’ scroll wants, dear, fer all the Gods’ sakes! Breakfast’ll be ready in a short breath, an’ I’m gaspin’ fer news from distant climes t’get my appetite goin’.”
Encouraged so Gabrielle admitted defeat, unrolling the scroll to its full length again.
“OK, seein’ ya asks so nicely. It’s from a guy named Sigurd, of the Bructeri tribe. He says he an’ his fellow villagers, population one hundred and three, are bein’ harassed by an Unnatural Demon apparently arrived in the last few weeks from the very Jaws of Tartarus itself—calls it equally the Dam’med Thing, an’ the Wight!”
Xena snorted, unimpressed.
“Can’t even describe their attacker! What kind’a commander, or just a man, is he? Know your enemy! How many times’ve I stressed that point t’ya, dear. First step t’overall victory in any fight!”
Gabrielle, who indeed had memories of listening to this diatribe ad nauseum, twisted her lips as if sucking a lemon before answering.
“So, what’re ya thinkin’, lover?”
Xena shrugged, attempting an air of innocent naïveté a child of five would have instantly seen through.
“Just, a stroll south in that direction wouldn’t be a borin’ way t’spend the day! What? Why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?”
“—‘cause I knew you’d say that! Can read ya like this dam’ scroll, you’re so easy that way!”
The deep haruumph this produced from the Warrior Woman did nothing to make her feel she’d won the argument with that exclamation, as was ever the case with Gabrielle opposing her.
—O—
The village, when the duo reached it a day and a half later going by the directions in the scroll now rolled-up in Gabrielle’s knapsack, was all it had been described as—so small and distributed a community as hardly to be called a wholly combined entity at all.
“Seen old pigsties in better condition!” Xena giving of her renowned realistic nature in these things as they approached the outskirts of the community. “Look, what’s goin’ on over there? They all havin’ an outdoor orgy, or what? Wan’na join ‘em? Jes’ fer the fun o’the thing, babe?”
“Clown!” Gabrielle employing her eyes to better effect than her partner. “It’s a cemetery! It’s a dam’ funeral goin’ on. Look, there’s a lone woman standin’ by that new stela, with her friends an’ fellow villagers round; looks as if she may have lost a child, meb’be. Sad!”
“Hummph!” The Princess no way interested. “Let’s get on an’ find this dam’ Chieftain, day’s wanin’ t’darkest night with every breath we take. Hey, is that bigger hut the Mayor’s den, y’suppose?”
“You ain’t helpin’!” Gabrielle taking the polite route as they climbed down from their saddles, a roughly dressed middle-aged man standing by the hut door as if expecting his visitors.
“Greetings, ladies! Xena and Queen Gabrielle, I truly hope?”
“The very same!” Gabrielle nodding with a wide smile. “Got your scroll—what can we do for you?”
“Sigurd of the Bructeri at your service, and don’t we just need you here at the moment!”
“Do you?” Xena, with raised eyebrows and enquiring expression, hardly engaged as yet.
“Do we?” Sigurd raising both arms high in distress. “Ye both must’a seen the latest end result of our ongoin’ tragedy yourselves on comin’ past the cemetery there! One of our dearest villagers lost her youngest daughter by way o’the dam’med Wight! Came by two day since, ripped her door open an tore the young gal t’pieces! Terrible sight, an’ nuthin’ any o’us could do by way o’defence. If it hadn’t been fer that late, er, ruckus, I’d have been supplicatin’ General Varus, of honored memory, t’come to our aid. But seein’ how things played out thet way I figured you two’d do as replacements. Had any previous?”
Hardly encouraged by this mild, if that, acceptance of their presence or capability, both Xena and Gabrielle took the chance to exchange glances before the Amazon replied.
“Previous what, exactly?”
“In knockin’ dam’med aggressive Demons on the head an’ stickin’ same on a stake after fer all t’see the danger’s over! Thet kind’a previous. You have killed Demons a’fore, haven’t ye, either o’ye? I dam’med hope so’s all!”
Gabrielle shrugged slowly, as admitting a minor fact of no great moment.
“—‘course we have, do it all the time. Demons! Knock ‘em over in the mornin’, play in the afternoon, that’s Xena an’ I! Once or twice a week, these last few years. Beginnin’ t’get a little bored with it now, truth be told!”
Sigurd gave the lithe Amazon a strong glance, glare even, before making a noise in his throat, behind a heavy beard, indicative of who knew what before beckoning them to join him inside his residence.
“Take those pews, a little rickety mind, so go canny as ye sits. Now, ye’re here, then!”
Assailed by this immensity of logic in action neither Xena nor Gabrielle found any adequate answer. Xena did, in fact, but held it in reserve simply out of respect for her partner whom, she knew, would only castigate her at length long afterwards if she actually voiced her opinion on the man’s imbecility.
“Well, down t’it!” Sigurd obviously anxious to get the whole business off his chest without halt or restraint. “What it is is, ye see, is, er, well, thar’s a dam’ Demon, it’s wreakin’ dam’ havoc all aroun’ the district; so you two kin kill it at yer convenience—sooner than later, o’course—an’ we’ll all be happy an’ grateful after—t’a moderate degree o’course; don’t go lookin’ t’retire on yer profits as a result none, jus’ sayin’. Oh, an’ by the way, it’d be better all ways considered if ye didn’t approach the rest o’the villagers t’ask about their individual bouts with the dam’med Demon; too many delicate an’ tragic memories fer most, y’see. That fair?”
Xena and Gabrielle, whom neither had been looking for any kind of monetary profit—a celebratory and heavily alcoholic dinner perhaps—proceeded to give their host their strongest glances of repugnance and abhorrence; both these seeming to have not the least effect on the man’s hidebound outer layers.
“So, take’s it yer agrees t’these details, gals? When kin ye start? It, the Demon, mostly likin’ t’come out’ta its den once a month or so; end o’this present month bein’ the next time its scheduled t’turn up, fer yer information.”
Even Gabrielle’s temper was feeling the strain by this time.
“We ain’t gals; know I ain’t anyway! Call me Gabrielle, or Your Highness! Xena’s jes’ Xena!”
Xena here made a low prolonged growling noise but no-one took any notice.
“We’ll get on it right away; do a recce of its den, wherever the Hades that may be! Where?” The Amazon reverting to her well-honed Amazon brevity—echoing Spartan succinctness.
Sigurd nodded, grinning widely the while, his thick beard happily hiding most of this revolting spectacle from his visitors however.
“Yeah, exactly. Like’s the cut o’yer jib, Lady! Used t’run a wherry on the Rhine, ye knows!”
“Where exactly does it sit on its haunches addin’ t’its midden-heap of an evenin’, relievin’ itself?” Xena running out of the little tittle of patience she had ever been saddled with. “In precise stadia, down t’the last triflin’ handspan, if ye pleases?”
Sigurd shrugged, as if this question had little if any meaning.
“Oh, over thar, somwhar’s!” He raising an arm to point hap-hazardly in a north-west direction. “Thar-aways!”
Gabrielle leant forward, elbows on thighs, to rest her chin on her hands, distressed beyond belief; Xena, as by nature bound, going in for the counter-offensive with brutal resolve.
“That ain’t no answer! If that’d bin an answer, the question would’a been put by a three year old imbecile! Get a grip man! Where the Hades does the dam’ Thing live, fer Ares’ Sake!”
Sigurd, obviously hardly seeing his mistake as a mistake, grunted, shook his shoulders, growled something inarticulate below his breath—probably the one wise move of the interview—and came down to exact details, though with a forbidding mien while doing so.
“Exact? Ye want exact whilst travelin’ through the forest? Oh, well, if’n ye insists! Right, lem’me see—ah, no, thet won’t slide! Uum, nah, ye’d never git through the swamps thetaways. Whar-be ye could—ah, got it! Right, ye takes the trail t’Grismond—”
“Where-away’s that place?” Gabrielle, as ever, on the ball.
“Grismond? Ye asks whar-be Grismond?” Sigurd hauled back on his heels as if by an absolutely incomprehensible question. “Why, Grismond be thetaway! Everyone knows thet!”
He accompanying this with another indecisive gesture, this time pointing somewhere to the south-north-west.
Defeated Gabrielle shook her head.
“Go on.”
“Then, havin’ found Grismond,” Sigurd grinning again, like a great ape with a whole bunch of bananas. “Ye takes the trail t’wards Ragnar Fell Ridge, it bein’ a short four parasangs t’the west. When ye reaches sich ye takes the trail t’Konismund—”
Gabrielle’s raised eyebrows was all it took for the rural leader to grasp the import of the gesture.
“Ah, thet’d be some five parasangs t’the west, along the edge o’the Ridge. Ye comes t’it eventual, ‘cause of ye cain’t miss it, see? Anyways, then ye crosses the Ridge an’ comes down on the other side, in amongst the Baranwald Forest, dam’ place!”
“Do we, indeed?” Xena utilizing her most sarcastic tone, to little effect on the coarse nature of her opponent.
“Yeah, thet’s it, sure, ma’am.” Sigurd not affected in the least. “Then ye’ll see, off in the distance, over the thick treetops—oh, a mighty ways away!—the Grentel Mountain. Thet’s whar the Dam’ Thing lives by night; or so I’m told. An’ thar ye be, ye see?”
Xena and Gabrielle, both rendered speechless, simply nodded; feeling themselves pretty fortunate this small, if entirely inadequate, response was left them.
—O—
The Baranwald Forest, when the travelers reached it just after the Ides of the same month, proved to be all a northern Germanic forest ought to be—thick, impenetrable, criss-crossed by rocky ridges, valleys, river and stream beds, lesser and thicker thickets, spinneys and coppices, heavy undergrowth everywhere, and a paucity of usable trails anywhere—progress thereby being slow to hardly at all in some places. At length they had made it to the top of a long high pretty much vertical ridge covered in loose rocks and scree from the pinnacle of which they could see to the west for another four parasangs or so before the horizon cut in with a hazy misty barrier. But, a parasang further immediately in front of the weary travelers Grentel Mountain rose around a full two and a half stadia above the surrounding treetops, its slopes covered in a dark green cloak of the same leading eventually to a long, apparently wide, barren rocky ridge-line around a quarter of a parasang in length.
“This’s Ragnar Fell Ridge we’re on now, or it dam’ better be, an’ thar she blows!” Gabrielle being funny for no good reason. “Baranwald down there an’ Grendel Mountain aways’ off, an’ don’t it just look it!”
“Idiot!” Xena by this time somewhat out of breath, tired, in a bad mood, and wholly repulsed by their acknowledged reason for being there at all. “F-ck it! Who gives a dam’? I’m pooped, if you ain’t. Let ‘em see t’the dam’ Thing themselves! Let’s head back south, darlin’. Y’know y’want to!”
This last was given in such a wheedling tone Gabrielle had no recourse but to sigh soulfully as a result.
“Xena, pull yourself t’gether. I’ve seen young five year old Amazon girls, with scraped bleedin’ knees after their first trainin’ exercises, still showin’ more resolve than you’re doin’ right now!”
Put in her place so effectively Xena shook her head angrily.
“I’m hungry! An’ anyway you know dark deep forests an’ I don’t get along. Look at that, ahem, late altercation back over in Teutoburg!”
“Altercation!” Gabrielle having none of this obfuscation. “Three Roman Legions, half the available Germanic tribes an’ most of their warriors, not countin’ thirty thousand of my own Amazon warriors! Roman bodies everywhere underfoot, an’ impaled to near every tree in the region after! Bit more than a mere altercation, sis! More like a historical event that’ll be talked about throughout future history. Bet Aristotle’ll be staining innumerable scrolls with his thoughts on the matter even as we speak! An’ it’ll be years, if ever, before we can show our faces in Rome again.”
“Hmmf! Anyway, like I was sayin’,” Xena no way put off the track of her inner thoughts. “forests an’ I don’t mix. They’re alive, y’know—”
“Poppycock! You’re haverin’, as the Picts in North Brittania would quickly tell ya, lover!”
“No, I ain’t.” The Princess sticking to her principles. “I know; I’ve been subject t’their dam’ influence all my dam’ life, so I dam’ well should know. Big tall dark trees! Every time I walk under their shade I can feel them plotting against me fer sure.”
Gabrielle sighed gently, reaching out an arm to caress that of her companion riding beside her. “Xena, you need treatment; how about when we return t’Greece I get you an appointment with Hippocrates’ great grandson? He’s an expert on insan—er, unfortun—er, demen—er, unbalan—er, er—”
Xena reigned in her steed to gaze pointedly at her blonde companion.
“Gab, are ya suggestin’ what I feel impelled t’think ya are suggestin’? ‘cause if so I shall have no option but t’throw a tantrum that’ll make Hades, Ares, an’ Loki all sit up an’ take notice; just a warnin’, gal.”
Unfazed by this idle outburst the Amazon Queen snorted impatiently.
“Lady, if I shivered at every threat you’ve wasted hot air on over the years I’d be a shattered withered shell of my former self; but, as ya can easy see, such is not the case—take a lesson from that an’ start thinkin’ positively, fer all the Gods’ sakes, OK?”
The Princess, not to be so easily lead astray from her singular opinion, made a last ditch effort to retain her position.
“Look, it’s gettin’ dark already, as it is. No sense in our ridin’ down in’ta that mass of dark trees now; be dark as Tartarus when we git there for sure. Better we stay up here for the night, go down in the mornin’; the bright, sunshiny blue sky mornin’. The trees won’t have woken up then, won’t notice we’re there till we’ve managed t’penetrate through most of the heavy thick stuff. I mean, all those Dryads! Hamadryads, Meliae, Alseids, Naiads an’ Hydriads,—”
“Idiot, don’t go on, my ears is achin’!”
“Not t’mention the obvious—” Xena too engrossed in her fears to notice. “—Alseides’ of the groves, Auloniades’ of the pastures, Leimakides’ of the meadows, Napaeae’ of the dells—an’ jus’ look at all the uneven ground between us an’ that dam’ mountain! Dells every dam’ where! Where was I? Oh, yeah,—an’ the worst o’the lot, dam’ Oreads’ of the grottoes an’ mountains. An’ what is that big lump over there, may I ask, Amazon Queen? Yeah, a dam’ big mountain, surrounded by all those other dam’ defects I’ve jes’ listed. Nah, I won’t do it, an’ there’s an end o’t! Let’s stay up here, or better still head back home! Come on, ya know that’s the best plan—ain’t I a seasoned warrior who knows what’s what, after all?”
Gabrielle had taken enough of this nonsense however.
“Buck-up, for Hermes’ sake, gal! What are ya, a warrior or a mouse? You may well be pretty good in some ways, I give ya that, but I’ve also heard ya express opinions on a variety o’topics that’d embarrass a ten year old girl! This present bein’ high up near the top o’the list. Trees is trees; vegetation, nuthin’ else. T’imagine they has feelin’s, an’ thoughts entirely focused on your demise an’ destruction only shows a fractured mind, gal. An’ even, about these dam’ Naiads an’ whatnot else, I’ve met an’ spoke with many o’them an’ I got’ta say for the most part they’re friendly an’ kind. Look, when we get down in among the forest I’ll mix up a potion of herbs an’ moss extracts that’ll calm you down properly. Probably make you sleep fer hours, as a side effect—or, contrary, give ya enough energy t’ride a thousand parasangs without drawin’ breath—but I’ll jes’ hit ya on your head with the butt-end of one of my sais if so an’ that’ll bring ya to your senses again, or knock ya out fer the rest o’the mornin’—either result bein’ entirely acceptable.”
Xena looked on her lover with a horrified gaze.
“Gab, ya sound more’n more like a dam’ Demon yourself every dam’ day! I’m beginnin’ t’be afraid o’yer, y’know.”
“As it should be, lover!” Gabrielle wholly unruffled about this reading of her character.
Xena again gazed down at the spreading treetops below, a wide seemingly never-ending carpet of green extending on all sides to the horizon except for the rising flanks and bare rocky peak of the distant mountain.
“Gods-dam’mit! I don’t wan’na go down there! It’s scary! An’ I’m hungry, like I said. Can’t we jes’ make camp somewhere’s up here? Can’t we? I’m hungry!”
“Well, y’ain’t eatin’ till we find an’ confront t’this dam’ Thing, over there beyond a significant measure of the dam’ Baranwald, so let’s get movin’, Lady!” Gabrielle, as ever, taking no prisoners without good reason; showing the indomitable spirit of the Amazons who had trained her so well in recent years. “Gettin’ t’the top of this dam’med ridge was easy, but I fancy gettin’ back down on this side ain’t goin’ t’be a ramble along the PanAthenaic Way or even the Campagna generally.”
Indeed three full clepsydras later they were still carefully edging along the crest of the extended Ridge looking for a way down in the direction they required.
“Meb’be if we retraced our steps, back the way we came.” Xena hedging her bets through boredom more than anything else. “Go past where we came up; meb’be an easier route down back there?”
Gabrielle was having none of it, however.
“Wasted too much time already; if we do that we’ll be caught up here when darkness falls. Wan’na spend the night up here, on the barren stones, without any cover from the cold night winds, baby?”
“Oh, f-ck that!”
“That’s what I thought; follow my trail, think there may be a scree slope just a bit further along.”
Gabrielle’s theory proved correct a short time later; a wide scree opening up before them which ran from the Ridge crest all the way to the dark treeline all of half a stadia below.
“Looks a bit steep.”
Gabrielle grunted humorlessly at this grumbling query from her partner.
“I’ve obviously brought us t’the only way off this dam’med crest for parasangs in either direction; blame only yourself if you fail t’take due advantage—watch me, an’ learn!”
With which stirring enjoinder the proto-Amazon gave her steed a tap on its ribs with her boots and bravely directed its head down the slope of loose pebbles, gravel, and loose boulders of varying sizes. Xena being left with no other choice but to follow in her wake, swearing foully as Argo slithered and slid under her.
It was only a short time later, though long enough to allow of the Princess’s heart racing way faster than normal, before they both cantered out onto the flat terrain below the Ridge. A short run over the intervening bare earth and loose stony surface and they were back on the softer grass of the encircling forest; the light rapidly darkening under the tree cover.
“Gods! Here we are!”
Gabrielle laughed at this.
“Yeah, jus’ as I figured. Ya really must start havin’ more faith in my actions, y’know. I know what I’m doin’, sis.”
“Yeergh!”
The two women sat their horses quietly for a while staring around in order to get their bearings.
“So, where d’we go from here?” Xena curling a supercilious lip after this further query.
“What d’you mean?”
“Just, where the dam’ are we? In relation t’the Mountain, I mean; and the Wight’s lair, wherever that may be.”
“Oh-ah-uum.”
Xena sighed on her part.
“That ain’t no kind’a answer, young ‘un. Try harder.”
“Fool!”
“Can’t see the Mountain, now we’re down among these dam’ trees again; have t’a just guess our direction.” Xena frowning over the problem then pointing with her left arm. “But I bet ya anythin’ the local Dryads an’ Naiads can see us perfectly well; whatever your opinion! Probably harborin’ evil thoughts about me even as we speak, lover! That way, meb’be? If nuthin’ tries t’misdirect us?”
“Nah, more t’the left; that way!” Gabrielle, of course, choosing an entirely different direction. “An’ for f-ck’s sake give it a rest with the dam’ Naiad theory; my ears are beginnin’ t’bleed, y’know.”
The Princess growled something indecipherable under her breath, shook her head, then caved in if less than gracefully.
“OK, that way it is—fer better or worse; well, you go first!”
“OK-OK!”
It was late afternoon before they eventually reached the lower slopes of the mountain, Gabrielle reining in her steed to contemplate their next move.
“Well, here we are; can ya smell the dam’med Thing anywhere close?”
Xena sat back on her saddle giving her companion a considering glance.
“I’m a Wight-smeller now, am I?”
“Just thought you could make an expert conjecture’s all.”
“Well, think again.”
“Gods!”
The lower slopes were clothed in a blanket of pine trees rather than the oaks and elms on the surrounding forest floor, which made progress slightly easier though they quickly came to the higher steeper slopes entirely bare of tree-cover.
“If we go higher we’ll need t’do so on foot, our horses can’t make those high slopes.” Xena glowering at the bare loose gravelly terrain rising into the sky to left and right.
“Don’t think the Thing’ll be up that high, anyway.” Gabrielle presenting her view of the situation. “Nowhere for it t’have a lair; more likely on these lower slopes where caves can eat into the slope. Best if we make a long cut along the slope at this level, see what’s t’be seen. Might strike lucky.”
Xena nodded agreement as they turned their steed’s heads to trot in a horizontal line along the edge of the pine-trees, Gabrielle following close on her heels.
Around the environs of Athens, with its cultivated fields, well constructed bridges over tinkling streams, and wide flat horizons a parasang is a gentle distance to take on a morning stroll: on the slopes of a thickly forested German mountain a parasang could easily be multiplied three fold if not more. What it boiled down to was that as far as the steely-hearted warriors were concerned by the time they actually called it a day and halted their steeds the afternoon was decidedly easing into coming evening.
“Figure we ought’a hold-off a while, get some food an’ rest; look t’the Thing t’morrer?” Xena, still wallowing in her attack of the blues, glancing hopefully sideways at her companion. “Build up our reserves, y’know, make a plan, sharpen our sword-blades.”
Gabrielle nodded on her part.
“Yeah, sure; except for that last thing. You can sharpen your dam’ sword t’your heart’s content, I’m gon’na make some rabbit stew an’ then go t’sleep.”
Making a hasty change to the direction of their conversation Xena referred instead to a slight incident suffered by the Amazon a little earlier.
“Y’need some salve on that cut on your thigh, dear. Scraping close past that thick bush back there was a bummer.”
Gabrielle snorted in reply, waving her left hand dismissively.
“Jes’ a scratch, babe, take no notice.”
“It’s bleedin’ some, ain’t it?” Xena sticking to her point. “Give it a chance it’ll turn septic then gangrenous then it’ll, your leg, fall off altogether. What use’d y’be then t’a hard-workin’ Warrior Princess? Only askin’.”
The extended noise which now emanated from the Amazon Queen’s compressed lips said all that needed saying as reply.
“Come on, babe.” Xena trying her best for the good of the many—in this case Gabrielle herself. “Got some salve in my saddlebag that’ll soothe your leg double-quick; make our camp an’ meal all the comfier.”
Gabrielle sighed for the umpteenth time but gave in with a good grace.
“Oh-OK. You plaster my leg with ointment, I’ll make us a stew you’ll remember fer years t’come.”
“For all the right reasons, hopefully!” Xena speaking her inner thoughts before she could stop herself.
“Fightin’ talk, lover—fightin’ talk!”
A single clepsydra later however all was harmony again, Gabrielle’s stew having that effect on all who partook, including the Princess herself.
“Delicious!”
“Thanks, lover; now I’m gon’na wrap myself in a warm blanket, dream peacefully, an’ wake-up in the mornin’ a new woman.”
“Oh, pooh!”
“Go t’sleep, lady.”
“Mmmrf!”
—O—
Another morning, another direction.
“Which way now?”
Gabrielle considered the available options then pointed.
“That way.”
“Sure?”
“Nah.”
“Great!”
Moving south-west along the bare beginnings of the mountain’s foothill slopes the warriors found the going increasingly difficult as they met uneven terrain, swampy ground, thickets of oaks and undergrowth that proved impenetrable without wide detours, allied with hordes of mosquitos which, zooming in on their prey, stayed with them from then on.
“God’dam! These dam’ flies are eatin’ me alive!” Gabrielle’s fair skin proving a serious disadvantage in the humid air below the trees. “Can we head back down to the forest floor? Get off these dam’ foothill slopes?”
“Yeah, perhaps it’d be best; no caves along here anyway,—think we’re just wasting our time here.”
A considerable interval later they were finally back on the forest floor, surrounded still by the thick forest but at least not trying to climb a mountain at the same time.
“D’ya notice something odd about this place; the whole area in fact?”
Xena considered the question as they rode through a long wide open glade, thankfully free of flies for the first time in ages.
“Well, no, not really. What d’ya mean?”
“There ain’t anyone livin’ here, or anywhere close.” Gabrielle pursuing her line of thought. “We haven’t come across a single hut, cabin, tent, or building of any sort, not since we came down from Ragnar Edge. Looks like no-one, but no-one, lives in this area of the forest at all. D’you suppose the Wight’s got anythin’ t’do with that?”
The Princess pursed her lips in deep thought.
“Well, could be; suppose y’could say it’s a sign that the dam’ Thing is somewhere close at hand, but who knows?”
Midday and a much needed pause for lunch and not before time.
“What’ve we got?” The Princess, always attentive to the important points in life, eagerly crouching by the small fire.
“Cold rabbit, legs, not stew.” Gabrielle going over her stock-in-hand. “Well, I have the remains of a small pot o’stew in a saddlebag here, but it’ll need reheatin’ an’ I’m not exactly sure about how safe t’eat afterwards it’d be. How’s about you take a platter full, an’ we’ll see how things go from there?”
Xena froze in place, stopped breathing entirely for a remarkably long number of breaths, then took a deep lungful again as she looked over the fire at her loved partner.
“Gabrielle! Sometimes I question whether you ain’t losing yer wits entire! Eat dud stew, dudder even than usual! F-ck that, babe!”
“Only a suggestion, don’t get your loincloth in a twist, lady. Gods! Some people!”
The rabbit legs, cold, however proved satisfactory to the consumers and calmness was soon restored round the campfire; especially when Gabrielle brought a goatskin of wine from another saddlebag and filled goblets for both.
“Ah, nice; just what I needed.” Xena swallowing her first goblet in one go. “Fill ‘er up again, babe!”
“Only this one time, lady.” Gabrielle giving her lover a severe glance. “Don’t want you drunk for the rest of the day. Can’t fight Demons when you’re sozzled out’ta your mind. Something I learned at Amazon Training Academy a while back.”
“Mmmph!”
—O—
Later in the afternoon and around another parasang more on their southern circumnavigation of the mountain the Amazon reined her mount in suddenly.
“Hey, look!” Gabrielle pointing ahead into the distance, the trees hereabouts much thinner in nature. “A hut, over there, finally! We can get some up-t’date info there hopefully about the dam’ Demon.”
Xena, however, had gone into her cautious doubting mode.
“What’s he, whoever he is, doin’ here at all—if there’s a dam’ Demon in the close vicinity? Would’a thought he’d’ve been among the first choice fer it’s breakfast long ago!”
The basic reason for this thought being the horse, saddled and reined to a wood bar outside the door of the building, which itself seemed in mint condition, for its type at least.
As they reined-in their own mounts by the front door the same opened to reveal the occupant: a middle-aged well-bearded stocky individual clothed in rustic green wool leggings and thick jerkin; his voice, when he spoke, low and gruff.
“Hi, folks, nice t’git visitors round these parts, kin I git anythin’ fer ye both? Want a meal, water, beaker o’homemade mead or what-all?”
“Mmm! Mead’ll hit the spot, sure.” Gabrielle jumping at this chance of refreshment without consultation with her partner; dismounting with renewed energy.
“Gods!” From a nearby Warrior Princess as she too alighted, though with far less enthusiasm.
Inside the neatly ordered main room of the large house a table with chairs and several beakers beckoned the weary travelers almost magnetically.
“I’ll pour.” Their host doing just that and, two breaths later standing back with a wide grin as he watched his visitors downing their individual beakers like thirsty nomads fresh from a hot desert.
“Ah, that did hit the spot!” Gabrielle giving thanks where due. “Refill, perhaps?”
“Certainly.” Their host attending to the request with verve. “You too, lady?”
Xena thought about it, found no reason to prevaricate, and nodded in acknowledgement.
“Fill ‘er up, thanks; good stuff, by the way.”
“Local honey.” The man happy to push the quality of his product. “Make it mostly fer myself, some t’barter at local Fairs, too.”
“There’s a village, or whatever, somewhere near?” Gabrielle making light conversation.
“Berwald, a small town, six parasangs t’the west.” The man nodding with a smile. “A good Fair every month, lots o’comestibles an’ whatever up fer sale.”
“You a farmer?” Xena gliding into the chat with a lifted eyebrow.
“Nah, not so much, more of a prospector.” The man furrowed his brows, eyeing his visitors intently for a short moment before coming to a decision. “There’s a small vein o’emeralds, an’ some copper, in the mountain here, y’see. Gettin’ the emeralds is more nor less easy; smelting the dam’ copper’s a different kettle o’fish altogether, mind.”
Here Xena came to the crux of her argument.
“What about, oh, local thieves, rogues, bandits, an’ other assorted scumbags? They’d all want a finger in the pie of emeralds an’ copper; where’re they, of a day?”
“Oh, nuthin’ o’that sort round these parts, ladies.” The man laughing deep in his chest. “This part of the forest’s so thick an’ un-travelled—there bein’ so few trails anywhere—I hardly git a visitor from one month’s end t’the other. You both bein’ the first in, oh, the last two month that way.”
“Aren’t there any, er, people around or nearby who’re enemies, or opposed at least, t’your activities here then?” Gabrielle suddenly realising the direction her lover’s questions were heading.
“Nah, nuthin’ o’that kind, no. Life’s quiet an’ comfortable round here, if’n ye likes same, that is.”
Xena and Gabrielle looked at each other with the same curious expression.
“What about, aah, Demons an’ such?” Gabrielle touching on the matter of most interest to her.
The man seemed confused, frowning over the question put forward.
“Demons? Round hereaways? Hah, that’ll be the day! Nah, nuthin’ like that, no. Wild pigs, yeah; some bears, sure; a number o’snakes, here an’ there; but Demons, nah, I’m safe that way, thanks.”
The ladies consulted each other visually again, to no greater effect than previously.
“No Demons? Y’sure?” Gabrielle seeking absolute clarity on the topic.
“Nope, nuthin’ supernatural ever happened round these parts since I first found the place—an’ that was more’n ten year since. All quiet that way, I assure ye.”
“This, hereabouts, is Baranwald Forest, ain’t it?” Xena coming to the heart of the argument. “An’ that’s Grentel Mountain over t’the side thereaways, eh?”
“Right on both counts, ladies.” The man nodding confidently.
“We were told there was a Demon, wreakin’ dam’ havoc all over the region, which used this mountain as its lair!” Xena making clear her position re the argument.
“Cain’t say anythin’ about that, ‘cept wherever it may lay it’s ugly head of a night it ain’t anywhere round these parts, take my word on it!”
A long pause ensued; the women finding it difficult, nearly impossible in fact, to comprehend what they were being told.
“Are you, ah,—” Gabrielle hardly able to put her thoughts into words.
“Am I sure about it?” The man coming to her aid. “Nuthin’ more certain. Far as supernatural Demons an’ bogies goes this whole area’s a no-go zone altogether. As I live an’ stand the only livin’ breathin’ entities of any sort within a radius of, oh, five or so parasangs round here right now are you two an’ I, nobody else.”
Xena looked at the love of her life, sighed gently almost in defeat, then turned to their host with a pleading expression.
“We’d both love a coupl’a more beakers of mead, if that’s possible, thanks?”
“On it, ladies, on it. Thanks fer likin’ my brew so much!”
—O—
The return to the origin of their safari, Braunwaldt by name, was accompanied by an overall feeling of discontent, not to say actual gloom, from both of the duo of itinerant explorers. On arrival Sigurd the Chieftain, of course, was nowhere to be found on their asking—they doing so, unsurprisingly, with some level of determination.
“Gone away, to Griswald thirty parasangs away?” Gabrielle hissing this through gritted teeth; her Amazon core tasting daylight. “What the Tartarus? I wan’na talk with him—face t’face, with feelin’!”
“He ain’t here, may not return fer a coupl’a month.” The stand-in they were interrogating shrugging his shoulders. “Demon? What Demon? Ain’t heard anythin’ of sich these last few years anywhere round these parts. Cain’t imagine where he got the idea, if that’s actually what he told ya both.”
“Wrote us a scroll, an’ told it to our faces just over a month ago, too.” Xena echoing their first confrontation with said individual. “Made it more’n plain he was tellin’ the truth.”
“Couldn’t have been.” The man soundly denying this. “We’ve been happy an’ quiet here in Braunwaldt fer the last few years; no sign nor talk of anythin’ in the line of Demons whatever, believe me. If that’s what he told ya he was soundin’ his lyre something awful out’ta tune, far’s I’m concerned. He ain’t the actual Chieftain here, by the way; jes’ what ya might call a stand-in fer a month or so—our last real Chieftain havin’ kicked the bucket over a tertiary fever six month since. Cain’t help ya more, I’m afraid. Wan’na go t’Griswald yersel’s? Meb’be be lucky enough t’find him, who knows. Don’t really know if’n he actil means t’return at all, tell the truth.”
Going on their way through the village the women spoke with several other natives of the place and surrounding region but all to the same negative conclusion.
“Seems there was never any Demon at all.” Gabrielle finally shaking her head in disbelief. “Can’t believe it! Why would he send us on a wild goose hunt t’no purpose whatever? Why?”
“T’get us out’ta the way; out from under his heels fer a time?”
“But why? Something happen here in our absence? Haven’t heard anyone complainin’ about anything like that. Have you?”
Xena shrugged as they ambled along the one main street.
“Not noticeably, no. Don’t think anythin’ did occur, like ya say. It’s all a dam’ mystery.”
“There must be a reason.” Gabrielle loth to give up her argument. “Unless, of course, he was simply mad! Not right in the head. But why manifest it suddenly, with us, like that; the rest of the locals not noticing themselves at the same time? Doesn’t make sense.”
Xena, harassed beyond measure, came to an executive decision.
“Let’s go back an’ talk with that clown who’s taken over the mutt’s home, the Chieftain’s, again. See if we can squeeze anythin’ more like common sense out’ta him over all this.”
True to this decision half a small clepsydra later found them back once again at the house of the Chieftain, now residence to his sub-Chief, or at least temporary substitute.
“Nah-nah, no wine or vittals, thanks; all we want is clarity an’ real facts.” The Princess making plain her standpoint. “Your Chieftain, or whatever he professed t’be,—the one Gabrielle an’ I both met backaways—before his curious need t’hit the trail fer pastures new, told us explicitly an’ with what now appears t’be malice aforethought, that this run-down hovel callin’ itself Braunwaldt was the epicentre of a whole saga of terror an’ viciousness caused by a Demon well-known t’be haunting the entire region to the detriment of everyone it met—”
“Bollocks!” This from the sub-Chief now beginning to feel his open nature was being somewhat imposed upon by his unwanted visitors. “Never heerd sich nonsense in all my puff! There hasn’t been any chronicled example of a rampaging Demon here in these parts in the whole of recorded history, take my word on it.”
“But why, then?” Gabrielle still seeking a patch of blue sky among the all-encompassing grey clouds.
“Why what?”
“Hades! Why’d he send us on a chase t’nowhere, t’find nothing? That why.”
The man shrugged again, wholly disinterested in the topic.
“Couldn’t say. He is mind you, I got’ta say, sumthin’ of a character, mind.”
The women glanced at each other, both frowning darkly at this revelation of poor judgement if not outright insanity.
“Oh, yeah?” The Princess never one to take kindly to this level of childish humour.
“Always out for a joke or cast of wit, y’know.” The man warming to his recollections of this dubious aspect of his temporary Leader’s personality. “Why, I remember once, jes’ a few weeks since, he—”
“Don’t tell us, we don’t wan’na know!” Gabrielle virtually, if not actually, frothing at the mouth. “Guy’s obviously a bum an’ a moron. What drove ya all t’make him your Chief eludes me entire! We, Xena here an’ I, are about t’brush the mud an’ dust of this corner of Tartarus from our boots, never t’return. We both give ya a fond farewell, an’ goodbye forever. Come on, Xena!”
The enraged Amazon turned on her heel and stalked off, giving her harassed companion only time enough to sweep the sub-Chief with her own withering glance—known before now to have stopped raging Scythian bandits in their tracks—before turning to hurry to catch up with her lover, already only a speck in the distance.
—O—
On their departure from the village, a fraction of a small, a very small, clepsydra later, they passed the edge of the cemetery where they had earlier witnessed the large funeral rites of the unknown lady and her daughter; they noticing the woman herself again kneeling by the still new grave; this event bringing to Gabrielle’s mind a course of action.
“Xena?”
“What? Wan’na brush the dust o’this hole off my armour soon’s convenient, babe.”
“The cemetery, over there.”
“What? So what? Come on, time’s wastin’.”
“No, look! The woman who lost her daughter’s there, tending to her grave.”
Xena snorted, hardly interested death being so much of a daily event in her life.
“None o’our business—come on, will ya!”
“No! We got’ta talk with her; she may have information we need t’know. Follow me.”
With insistent determination the Amazon turned the head of her mount and headed across to the entrance to the cemetery leaving her companion no other course but to grumpily follow in her wake. On arrival Gabrielle had the decency to wait for the Princess to join her on foot, leading her across the smooth low grass to the grave in question; the lady rising to her feet at the appearance of these visitors.
“Good day, can I help you? Looking for some loved one’s resting-place?”
Resisting the desire to growl unpleasantly at this gentle way of describing a grave—to Xena such being simply a hole in the ground where bodies, of whatever nature, sex, age, or condition, were summarily deposited not without a whole lot of unwanted physical effort if indeed time allowed even of that—the Princess held herself heroically in check instead coming to the heart of the matter without preamble.
“Reckon we saw your original funeral, fer yer daughter, some month or so ago.”
The woman, in her late forties, frowned casting an appraising eye over the two clearly foreign warrior women.
“Can’t say’s I recognise either of ye; would’a done so if’n ye’d bin there, fer sure.”
“We were on the sidelines, not amongst the crowd; not even in the cemetery.” Gabrielle hurriedly taking over the conversation. “Just watched from a distance, I mean.”
Still at sea the woman shrugged.
“What can I do for you?”
“Tell us how your daughter died, is what.” Xena showing all her renowned cold disregard for the commonly held decencies, much to her lover’s annoyance beside her. “That is, what killed your daughter? We were told, beforehand by someone who ought’a have known fer sure, that a Demon tore her—er, that is, killed her. That what happened?”
“A Demon?”
“Yeah.”
“Hogwash! Juliette died from dysentery, brought on by partaking of some badly brewed beer; three other villagers went sick at the same time but recovered. Demon! There’s never been Demons round these parts ever—ever, believe me! Whoever told you that fable was a nasty lying scoundrel! Do you both mind, I’m attending to my dear one’s grave here.”
“Yeah-yeah, sure; no worries, thanks for your help.” Gabrielle trying her best to pour soothing oil on stormy waters, taking her lover’s arm in hand to steer them both back towards their waiting mounts beyond the low wall of the graveyard. “We got’ta go!”
—O—
The camp that evening, out in the heart of the forest well away from the scene of their late debacle, was enshrouded in a metaphorical mist of gloom and despondency, neither warrior being in anything closely resembling a cheerful frame of mind.
“So it was all a misty fortress in the clouds!” Xena growling harshly as if faced with a whole horde of rampaging Scythian bandits. “A load of lies! A bag of sh-t! A krater of donkey’s pi—”
“Yeah-yeah, no doubt; doesn’t take a Sophist t’work that out, lady!” Gabrielle returning her friend’s comparisons with equal joie de vivre as the Gauls insisted on saying on wholly dissimilar occasions. “All nonsense from start t’finish, an’ we were the poor saps who took it all in as kosher history. We must both be losin’ our natural common sense, is all I figure.”
“Nah, jes’ gettin’ lied t’our faces by a rogue of means an’ seeming infinite capacity.” Xena frowning darkly, conjuring in her mind various modes of revenge suited to her present purposes and needs. “Wonder if the Illyrian Wheel wouldn’t be the thing? Takes lots o’time, an’s extremely painful throughout! I could enjoy employin’ one in this case when we find the b-str-d! Gab, where could we—”
“Enough daydreamin’, gal!” The Amazon taking the Amazonian route in such conditions. “Plenty of time for revenge, much as I want such too. Though I got’ta say, yeah, there are times an’ occasions when Virtue needs t’turn her head away an’ let Nemesis have her day!”
“Glad t’hear same.” Xena a trifle surprised at her lover’s tone. “Sounds like y’really mean it?”
“Oh, that I do.” Gabrielle nodding as she bowed over the pan on the campfire. “Takes us both for fools; me most of all! Has us hike through swamp, forest, raging rivers, an’ over dangerous mountains, an’ get bit by flies an’ bugs innumerable, all in the line of bein’ made idiots of? I’ll have his dam’ insides fer breakfast one of these fresh mornin’s or I ain’t a dam’ Amazon Queen’s all!”
“Oh, dear!” The Princess on her part lost for words, quickly veering the conversation into a safer channel. “See yer fryin’ four eggs there. One fer you an’ three fer me, I take it?”
Gabrielle snorted from the depths of her diaphragm.
“Dream on, lotus-eater! An’, if ye’re not dam’ careful, those’ll be all y’do get fer supper, so watch it, babe!”
“Oh, b-gg-r!”
The End.