Part Five
Xena strode the field like a titan; her sword arm a blur, the flash of her eyes a beacon in the cloud of dust. Her battle cry rose above the din, calling the Harrians to her side. The fighting ebbed and flowed around the cage savagely. Megabyzus and his few trying to recapture the wagon. Xena made her stand before the door to the cage and unleashed her fury.
Gabrielle had seen her in countless battles, but the sight of Xena heaping mangled corpses thigh deep about her with every swipe of her blade was unknown. There was no restraint in her, no holding back, and the frustration of the past week was loosened like the hounds of hell. Her lips curved with mirth, her fighting laugh took the heart out of the soldiers before she carved them. She set her back to the bars of the cage and swung her sword as a butcher swings an axe.
From the hillside came the snap and hiss of arrows. Azarnes, with the advantage of position, was cutting down soldiers from above. The heart went out of Megabyzus' men, faced with the sight of the Lord Chabouk like a demon out of the underworld, mowing men down like the sword of fate. Blood fell like raindrops into the thirsty dust. The crowd around the wagon thinned, the living giving way to the specter of death, shaped like a woman with long black hair and dripping blade. One soldier tripped over a body in retreating and sprawled before Xena on his back. Her smile furious, her blade swung high to open him from groin to throat. The heady battle song deafened her, the frenzy making all the world swim red before her eyes.
Gabrielle saw the guard fall, saw his hands go up in a gesture of supplication. Xena was too taken with the battle fever to hear, or see, or stop herself. Gabrielle saw the sword swing up, and lunged through the bars, grabbing Xena's arm. "Xena no! He's unarmed."
The grip on her arm would have been as easy to shake off as the brushings of a fly in her exalted state, but the touch of Gabrielle's skin on her skin made the rage recede. Xena lowered her sword, shaking the frenzy from her eyes. "Gabrielle?"
"It's over, Xena. We've won."
Megabyzus saw his future ebbing away, trampled into the dust. He grabbed a spear from the body of one of his loyal few, and charged the wagon. Xena saw the motion out of the corner of her eye, Megabyzus lunge between the bars. He withdrew the spear, with a fresh edge of crimson like a thread on the spear blade. Xena's Chakram flew from her fingers, severing the head from the spear shaft. She raised her sword, to see blood pour from Megabyzus' mouth. An arrow bloomed from his chest, standing half a foot out from his body. He fell, clutching at the shaft, showering red drops into the settling dust. Behind him, revealed as the Persian crumbled, stood Azarnes, shaking with unspent rage. The fight had ended.
Xena spun to the wagon, and saw Malache, blood soaking her sleeve when she'd shielded Oromenes' body from Megabyzus' last attempt. One blow of her sword and the lock fell away, and she leapt into the wagon. She struck the manacles from the floor mount, then examined the wound. It bled freely, but a pressure bandage would do for it. Xena looked at Oromenes, still as death in Malache's lap. "It'll be alright. Let me have a look at her. Gabrielle?"
The bard drew Malache away, gently, so Xena could examine Oromenes. "She's a healer. If anyone can save Oromenes, Xena can." Gabrielle said.
Xena felt the back of Oromenes head, where the black hair was a soup of blood and shredded flesh. Gingerly, she felt for bone fragments. The skull seemed to be intact. She opened one of the prince's eyelids, and saw the pupil restrict, slightly. Praise Zeus for that, Xena thought. "We can make her more comfortable than this. There's a chance." Azarnes and Malache took Oromenes from the wagon, Azarnes holding the prince's body to his chest. "Take Oromenes to Megabyzus' tent. He won't be needing it." Xena said.
Gabrielle loosened the chains and climbed out of the wagon, feeling blood return to her limbs. She tried to take a step and faltered, and was caught up in strong arms. Gabrielle pulled Xena to her, pressing against the armored chest despite the dust and the gore, despite the bodies about their feet and the remaining soldiers looking on. The relief she felt was wordless, overpowering, at being in contact with the warrior's body.
"Good work with the guards. My plan wouldn't have succeeded without it." The warrior's voice was low, breathed right beside her ear.
Gabrielle couldn't help but smile. Xena came out of the sun, decimated an armed camp, saved their lives, and the first thing she could say was praise for her strategy. The bard translated it, knowing Xena's heart. "I love you too." She said, accepting Xena's moment of silence, then her squeeze in acknowledgment. It wasn't the poetry of a Harrian prince, but it was everything to Gabrielle.
The bard went to Megabyzus' tent while Xena took command of the guards. She had them drag off the bodies, bind the few prisoners, and set out an extra party for the horses. Once the perimeter watches were set, and she was sure the guards were fully in her command, she went to the tent of the former satrap. She moved the flap and ducked in. Oromenes was laid out on Megabyzus bed, with Malache sitting by the head. Azarnes hovered, pacing, and Arun lay, head on his paws at the side of the bed. Gabrielle saw her come in and came over with a tray. She'd raided Megabyzus' stores, making sure that the exhausted party all had something to eat.
Xena ginned, for the first time in a week. How perfect she found it that Gabrielle would think of food, and make sure that everyone ate. From the look of Malache and Gabrielle, they hadn't eaten in more than a day. She knew that she and Azarnes hadn't, nor had she slept in the days she'd been on the road. The adrenaline of battle was leaving her. She felt a weight, like Sisyphus' rock on her shoulders.
Gabrielle took her hand and made her sit. "You look like you haven't relaxed in a week." She whispered, in Xena's ear.
"How could I, with you gone?" Xena whispered back. She felt Gabrielle's hands on her neck, kneading the knotted flesh.
"Thank Har." She breathed, then caught herself. I've been in this kingdom too long, she thought. "How did you know that Amasis had died?" Gabrielle asked her.
"I lied." Xena said, smugly.
Malache rose from the bed, spoke briefly with Azarnes, then started lighting candles around the tent. "What's going on?" Xena asked.
"We're going to pray. There's nothing else left to do." Azarnes said, his grief apparent on his face. Malache heard him, and walked over.
Gabrielle recognized in her the Harlot she had met in the Red City, from her gentle and graceful manner with the older man. She had resumed her rank, and now seemed to be more than a woman in the throes of her own agony. She lay a hand on Azarnes arm in sympathy. They shared a look of a common pain. She then walked to Xena and Gabrielle, inviting them to stand around the bed. Gabrielle saw that she'd regained the composure of the beautiful young woman that she and Xena had first met, but there was something infinitely older about her now. A wisdom, coupled with the passionate attractiveness of Malache. Har was with her again.
"I've been holding on so hard, I haven't been able to think clearly. Your words worked through my haze of grief, Gabrielle. One more thing to add to the tally we owe you. The Great Mother teaches that a balance should allow the soul choice. After talking with Oromenes, in the cage, I know what we must do. We have to let Oromenes know that, if it is her choice to leave, we love her and we understand. Only then will I be honoring the bond the Goddess has set between us." Malache was calm, as calm as Oromenes, Gabrielle saw, when they'd talked of death in the fortress.
A small sob came from Azarnes. He was clearly struggling, caught in his grief. He turned to Malache, who took his hands. "You are a father to her, Azarnes. She spoke of you with love, only love."
"I tried my best to raise her, out here, in this wasteland, with a wounded old soldier as his only company."
Malache gripped his hands, smiling at him. "You couldn't have done a finer job. Oromenes became the woman I love because of your teaching."
Azarnes blinked away tears from his black eyes, so similar now to the eyes of Oromenes. "I wish I had gotten to know more of you, in the last years. You were good for her." It was a heavy admission for Azarnes. Malache knew how he'd resisted the bonding between herself and the prince. She accepted it, and kissed his cheek.
They stood around the bed. Malache began to sing in Old Harrian, a song neither Xena nor Gabrielle could follow. But Azarnes soon joined in, his deep voice blending with Malache's, weaving an hypnotic net. The candles burned red, to Gabrielle's eyes, as the song went on. There was an undertone to it, a constant thrumming like the purr of a leopard or the beating of a heart. Though they didn't sing, Gabrielle and Xena each offered silent prayers, to Har, to the more familiar Cybele and Zeus. Xena even added one to Aphrodite, a quick one. The song faded away, leaving a perfume like burning sage in the air. Azarnes wept freely, tears falling from his black eyes, running into his beard. Malache sat back down on the bed, dry-eyed and at peace. "It is in Har's hands now, as my leopard would say."
They ate and rested, dozing in the camp chairs. Malache accepted food, but did not relinquish her spot on the bed. Xena, finally, fell asleep sitting up, as a wolf dozes along the trail. Gabrielle slept on her shoulder, curled into the warrior's arm. After all that had separated them, she was unwilling to be away from Xena even for unconsciousness. Azarnes lay down on the ornate rugs, one arm flung across his eyes.
Gabrielle felt Xena's arm tighten around her and snuggled closer, seeking more warmth from the warrior's body. Xena's eyes flickered open. She woke instantly alert, testing the area with her ears, her eyes, for a hint of danger. She found none. She glanced at the bed and saw Oromenes' black eyes open. Malache, gazing down at the reclining prince, smiled and stroked her face.
"Gabrielle." Xena said. The bard muttered and cuddled into her chest. "Gabrielle, wake up." She did, blinking slowly out of sleep, having felt safe for the first time in a week. Xena's heartbeat under her ear had worked it's magic, lulling her into a feeling of perfect balance. She finally sat up, to meet Oromenes, looking at them.
Malache woke Azarnes, who cried out at the sight. He knelt swiftly by the bed. "Oromenes, are you well?"
The slow smile that crossed the prince's face was like dawn in the hills. "I am well, Uncle." Oromenes swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood.
Xena sprang up. "Careful. After an injury like that, your balance-"
Yet Oromenes seemed fine, perfectly balanced. Malache took the prince's hand. "You have to be the Chabouk. Gabrielle told us tales, but they don't match the reality." Oromenes said, her black eyes traveling the length of the warrior's body. "I owe you my life." The prince smiled, brilliantly, and Xena found herself charmed.
"I'm almost afraid to ask what Gabrielle has been saying about me."
"That you are a warrior with a hero's heart. You are fortunate to have her devotion." Oromenes said, with a nod to Gabrielle.
Xena left to take stock of the camp and determine when they could set out for Har. Oromenes seemed fine, lighthearted, protesting when Malache made her lie in bed. "I've done nothing but sleep for days. There is much to do."
"And you will do it, when Xena says that you may." Malache warned her.
The prince sighed and submitted. "Come and lay with me, then. I will tell you of the dreams I had, the gulfs I crossed. As a leopard I was born, out of fire, as a phoenix is."
The sound of Oromenes voice followed Gabrielle as she slipped out of the tent, to seek Xena.
The warrior stood in the center of camp, staring at the cage. Blood still splashed the bars, the mark of furious sword strokes cut deep into the iron. Her back was to Gabrielle, her dark head bent forward. "Come join me." She said, not looking behind her.
The bard stepped to her side, feeling suddenly shy in the absence of war, chaos and struggle. "What are you thinking about? " Gabrielle asked, seeing Xena's hands closed around the bars.
"You." Xena said, looking at Gabrielle's profile.
"Funny. I was just thinking about you." Gabrielle said, softly.
Xena looked back at the cage, her grip tightening on the scarred iron. "If you hadn't stopped me, I would have just kept killing until there was nothing left. I saw you chained up, and then all I could see was red." She looked at Gabrielle.
"That's a hideous thing to be tied to." Gabrielle shook her head. "You did stop, Xena. The moment I asked you." The bard could see Xena's head duck away, and knew that she was holding herself apart, not letting Gabrielle see her pain. She took the warrior's hands, prying them off the iron.
"Xena. You saved our lives, you gave Oromenes back to Malache and Azarnes. You fulfilled the mission and preserved Har's chosen heir." Gabrielle could see that Xena wasn't hearing her. "Let me tell you a story." She said, shocking Xena out of her reverie.
"A story?"
"Sure. It'll be fun. But you have to sit down and face me." Gabrielle demonstrated, sitting cross-legged on the ground. "Come on."
Xena, after a glance to make sure no one was watching them, did so, facing Gabrielle. "I'm sitting."
"Now close your eyes." Xena raised an eyebrow at the bard. "You have to close your eyes or the story doesn't work." Xena lowered her lids with distrustful slowness, catching Gabrielle's delighted grin. "Go on." The bard said. She waved a hand in front of Xena's face to be sure her eyes were closed. "You have to concentrate hard and picture the story as I'm telling it. "
Long ago, before our grandmothers were born, there lived a leopard whose mother was killed by a hunter. This cub was too young to survive on it's own. She went in search of protection, wandering over the plains, crying. An eagle spotted her-
"Spotted a leopard? Funny." Xena said, twisting her mouth into a grin.
"Shh. You're not concentrating.
An eagle saw her from high up in the sky and flew near. The eagle decided that the cub was too big to be prey, but small enough to be interesting, so she swooped close.
'Why do you cry?' The eagle said to the leopard.
'I cry because my mother is dead. I have no kin.' Said the leopard.
The eagle thought about this. She had two eaglets, and could use someone to watch them while she hunted for food. 'I will take you with me and let you be kin to me and mine, if you will promise not to eat us once you are grown.' The leopard promised, so the eagle took her up to her nest.
"That wasn't bright. The leopard grew up and ate the eaglets, right?" Xena said.
"No, and you aren't concentrating. You have to picture this." Gabrielle said. Xena wrinkled her face up into the picture of concentration.
The leopard watched the eaglets while they grew up, faithfully, while the eagle hunted for food. In return, the leopard was considered one of the family, dining on fish and mice with the eagles. But the eaglets grew up, and got to the point when it was time to leave the nest. The eagle came home, and started throwing her young out of the nest. The leopard was horrified, and tried to stop the eagle, but all the fledglings were tossed out. Despondent, the leopard climbed out of the nest and slunk away, convinced that her family had been slain by the eagle. Had she looked up, she would have seen the eaglets catching the wind with their wings, but she didn't, because leopards don't fly.
Gabrielle finished.
Xena opened one eye. "That's it? Leopards don't fly? What in Tartarus is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. I came up with it on the spot." The bard said, smiling.
"What's the point?"
"The point is I got you to stop brooding, and sit down in the dust in the middle of camp with your eyes closed. That alone was worth it." She gathered her legs under her, prepared to run, but Xena didn't lunge at her. She just sat blinking at the bard, until she threw back her head and laughed, a gusty elemental sound. She laughed until tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Gabrielle joined her laughing.
She didn't notice Xena's movement until the warrior had tackled her, flinging her back in the dust and pouncing on her. "Now you've got me down in the dust in the middle of camp. We're even." Gabrielle said, looking up a Xena's head, framed by a handful of stars.
"I love you." Xena said, in a low voice, her black hair falling like a sheet around Gabrielle as she bent and kissed her.
The party returning with the horses didn't see the two figures reclining in front of the cage until Xena sprang up, moving Gabrielle aside. The riders were startled by the Chabouk appearing like a demon out of the earth, and feared her anger. To their surprise she didn't seem angry. She stood listening to their report, gave them their orders for the evening. She informed them that they would be leaving for Har at dawn, and retired to the satrap's tent, the small blonde woman following her, suppressing a smirk.
Malache saw Xena and Gabrielle enter the tent, dust covering their hair and clothes. Gabrielle was smiling broadly, and even Xena seemed to be grinning. Their hands brushed, then clasped. Greeks, finally acting like Harrians, she thought.
"They've rounded up enough horses. We leave for Har at dawn. I don't feel safe sitting in this valley, even with Megabyzus dead. Bessarius is still unhanged, and we need to get back inside the City walls." Xena said to Azarnes.
The old soldier agreed. "Oromenes, can you ride? " He asked the reclining prince.
"If Xena will let me."
"If we can pry your head out of Malache's lap." Xena said.
They slept the sleep of the dead, the exhaustion of a week of action laying them low. Xena and Azarnes took alternate watch within the tent, silently acknowledging their desire to protect their people. Xena woke midway through the night, Gabrielle wrapped around her like a sailor's knot, too intricate to unwind. She sighed, removing one limb at a time, then again as Gabrielle protested and wrapped herself back around the warrior. Soon, Xena promised herself.
She tucked the rug over the sleeping bard, and took up her weapons. Azarnes stood by the tent flap, bow in hand, eyes sweeping from the view of the camp, the sentries on duty, to Oromenes sleeping in Malache's arms. "You should sleep." Xena said in a soldier's whisper.
Azarnes looked at Malache and Oromenes. "I should get used to having a daughter in law." He unstrung his bow, sliding the arrow back into his quiver.
Xena gave him a measured look. "You're a good man, Azarnes of Baluchis."
They rode out in the cool space before the sun dominated the sky, outriders flanking the center where Oromenes, Malache and Gabrielle rode. Azarnes took the rear, his restless black eyes scanning the road behind them, watching the hills for ambush. Xena rode point, her eyes watching the Red City grow on the horizon. Her mind had time to chew on the problem of Amasis' dream. They'd saved Oromenes from Megabyzus, but the threat of death was still intact. She went over the words of the dream like a chant. The child must not be revealed to be other than a prince, or the child would die. There was something there for her to grasp, to use to advantage, but it hadn't become clear to her yet.
The royal road went from dust and shrub to paved stone. The Red City rose before them, dun and honey in the clear yellow light of day, a familiar coy mask hiding the staggering beauty of a Harlot. Xena was glad to see the mud brick walls, the Manticore Gate with the promise of paradise beyond. The Harrian soldiers sat up in their saddles, held straight their spears and looked with joy on the welcoming embrace of their City.
Azarnes looked on the City he hadn't seen in nineteen years. For him, those walls were the symbol of a pain he thought himself too weak to bear, yet he found pleasure in their sight. The pain had become an old ache, a wound that foretold the coming of rain, companionable. He sighed, and for the second time in nineteen years, he prayed.
Oromenes rode lightly in the saddle, relaxed, black eyes fixed on the walls. Her head was back, the sun striking blue sparks from her hair, her carriage noble. Malache glanced at her and was struck by the sight of the Great King riding into her City for the first time. It was easy to forget that this was Oromenes, who she loved. The rider on the pacing horse swam before her sight, blending with another far older image. Malache saw the outline of a beautiful young man on a white mare, flowers around his neck and jewels on his hands, riding into the open gates to the acclaim of the people.
"Should we ride to the palace, Lord Chabouk?" The soldiers on point asked Xena.
"We ride to the Temple. There'll be plenty of time for fanfare, once we have the true heir safe." Her instincts were sharpened, waiting for arrows to fall, spears to lung from the shadows, but the day stood bright and clear, the way was open. They rode into the City without a murmur from the guards at the Manticore Gate, who merely saluted Xena and let them pass. In the square before the Temple she dismounted, and instructed the soldiers to wait. She wanted a guard, in case the trip to the palace proved dangerous. "Malache. Go in and tell Mara we're coming." Xena said, keeping Oromenes between herself and Azarnes. The Harlot ran off. Xena ushered the party in the main doors, keeping an eye on the square. Something still tugged at her nerves, something about the dream.
A great wailing split the air, the crying out of thousands of voices in grief. Xena drew her Chakram in response, but it wasn't an attack. For a wild moment she thought it was the Grieving for Dummuzi all over again, but the sound was mortal, from mortal throats. It rose and spread around the Temple, conch shells blew and brazen cymbal clanged. "What is it?" She yelled to Malache, coming toward them at a run. Azarnes and Oromenes seemed to recognize the noise, and closed their eyes.
"Amasis is dead." She called, and took Oromenes arm.
The prince bowed her head. "If I came to the City, Amasis would in that moment die. I am sorry, father."
Azarnes lay a hand on Oromenes shoulder. "It was his time. I think he held on, until he knew you were near. Only then could he let go and join the Goddess."
Mara swept into the main chamber, and saw them standing before the statue of Har. Azarnes she recognized, though it had been nigh twenty years. She inclined her head to him, graciously. Her eyes passed over Xena and Gabrielle, over Malache, to rest on Oromenes. She went to the prince and knelt, taking her free hand. "Thrice welcome to your City, Beloved of Har."
That was it, the missing piece. Xena strode to Mara's side. "It's not over yet. We have to get Oromenes into hiding, until the coronation. How soon can the Great King be crowned?" She demanded.
"Nightfall. Amasis must be given rites, the ceremony prepared." Mara answered.
"Keep Oromenes hidden until then. Let no one know who he is, where he's from. I've got an idea that might finish off the prophecy and save your neck, leopard." She gave a few more instructions to Malache and Mara.
Azarnes stated that he would guard the prince, and kill anything that moved near him. "What of you, Lord Chabouk?" He asked her.
"I have some cleaning up to do."
Xena stationed the guards at the Temple gates, with strict orders to speak to no one of the heir until the coronation. She knew that Malache and Azarnes would spirit Oromenes away from the Temple until the ceremony that night. Gabrielle, staff in hand, ran through the streets by her side, parting the grieving crowds as the people bewailed Amasis.
"Barracks?" Gabrielle asked.
Xena shook her head. "I think we'll find him at home, waiting for word from Megabyzus."
The former General of the Goddess' Army maintained a house on the edge of the parade ground, near to the soldier's quarter. Xena saw the guard at the gate, long spears polished and gleaming in the sun, parade armor on. "He's been ready for this. He's celebrating before Amasis is in the ground." Xena said.
Gabrielle grinned, mimicking the warrior's steely glare. "Let's go kick some ass."
"Gabrielle!" Xena said as she approached the gate.
The bard shrugged. "It's better than Kill them all!"
Xena cast a reproachful look over her shoulder.
Her swagger and the blade in her hand alerted the guards. "Lord Chabouk! The General wasn't expecting you."
"No, Bessarius was expecting me to be dead on the road. Why don't you go tell him that Megabyzus says hello?"
The soldier hesitated, uncertain if he should abandon his post, but Xena smiled at him, and set the point of her blade down, leaning on it. He retreated swiftly.
The General was dressing for the celebration, fixing the straps on his armor. His servant stood by with his scarlet cloak, waiting to hang it from his shoulders. "It will be a great night, Sores. Amasis has finally passed, the true heir hasn't shown. The Persian was right. " The servant began hanging the cloak, nodding to his lord.
"General! A message at the gate for you, sir." The soldier saluted, striking his spear butt on the mosaic floor.
"Out with it, then. I'm not ready to be disturbed."
"Megabyzus says hello, sir." The soldier said.
Bessarius turned, the cloak swinging out behind him in a wave. "Why do you make the Lord satrap cool his heels in my courtyard? Let him in, imbecile!"
The soldier hesitated again. "It's not the satrap, General. It's the Lord Chabouk."
To his credit, Bessarius was at the last a brave man. He knew that he'd been bearded in his own den, and a swift look at the window showed Xena leaning on her sword at his front gate. Since her leaving the City he had heard stories of her fighting prowess, increased by a loving contingent of soldiers she'd bested. But it wasn't fear of Xena that made his veins run cold. He was a Harrian at the last, and he'd betrayed his Goddess.
He looked out his window at the gate, and saw Har, leaning on the Sword of Fate, waiting for his return. The Greek was only an instrument. He wasn't as clever as the Persian, he had no illusions on that score. He'd gambled, and lost. He dismissed Sores with a wave of his hand. "Enough. It will be my winding sheet, don't be so careful with it." He picked up his campaign sword, and belted on the scabbard. "You, boy. What's your name? " He asked the guard, loosening his blade in the scabbard.
"Chehoun."
Bessarius smiled at that. "Named for the Lady Death, how appropriate. Dismiss the guards, Chehoun, send them home. My will is filed in the Temple. Remember this- all I own goes to my cupbearer. Now go." He squared his shoulders and walked out into the square.
The sun picked out the blaze of his armor, lighting him like a funeral pyre. His cloak hung like blood behind him, heavy and unmoving, the folds carelessly set. His campaign sword was in his hand, scarred and nicked heavy iron, the veteran of a thousand battles. He looked toward Xena, but saw only the outline of the dark haired woman, raising her own blade. He smiled, and cast away his scabbard. With a roar like ice grinding against stone he charged, swinging the heavy blade like a willow wand.
Xena leapt to meet him, swords clashing like Hephaestus' forge, the ringing steel sending vibrations up her arm. He was strong, the former General, and not all Harrians were as soft as she'd thought. He fought with a will, slashing at her unprotected head, cutting down viciously at her long legs, but she was speed itself, never where his steel expected her to be. Bessarius fought in silence, a grim smile on his lips, only the panting of his exertion letting Xena know he wasn't already dead.
She'd expected him to attack, but not this way. There was no scene, no surprise or recrimination, no shouted insults. As she felt the hilt of her blade ring with each stroke, she knew what he wanted. He was trying to go down fighting, to earn a warrior's death.
Xena stood toe to toe with him, all fancy tricks set aside, and cut and thrust with a will. She'd give him his warrior's death, and let him know he earned it. The swords blurred in the air, weaving a wheel of blue, crashing and parting like lovers. Gabrielle watched, wondering why Xena didn't leap over him and strike him down, why she didn't draw her Chakram and disarm him, kick his legs out from under him. It wasn't like her, this solidly planted method of fighting, pitting brute strength against brute strength, waiting for the slightest faltering of the sword arm's speed. The look on her face was grave, but not angry. She was fighting mechanically, with skill but without joy.
Bessarius hauled his heavy blade back to smite at Xena's skull. The sun caught his eye, picking out a spot of color next to the gate. Green? Who stood by the gate?- he wondered, and looked. The minute hesitation was all Xena needed. Her blade plowed through his armor and breastbone, sundering his heart. Bessarius fell with an odd delicacy, folding off Xena's sword as met the ground. She thought he muttered something about fate, but couldn't be sure.
Gabrielle was at her side, taking her arm. "That wasn't what I expected. It was like he wanted to die, and was using me." The warrior stared down at the body of the former General, at the small smile on his lips.
Gabrielle knew that the mood of the warrior could easily turn dark, that melancholy sometimes seized her after a kill such as this. "Come on, Xena. It's over. We have a Great King to crown."
Xena shook her head as a lion shakes it's mane. She looked down at her bard. "Let's go."
At the Temple they met with Mara. "Everything is being prepared. Azarnes and Oromenes are safe. I've given out word that their heir has been found, and will be crowned tonight after Amasis' death rites. You have several hours to prepare, to refresh yourselves. I've taken the liberty of having your rooms at the palace readied for you."
It seemed a lifetime to Gabrielle since she'd been in the palace chambers she shared with Xena. She thought of the dust of the road, the violence and chaos of the past weeks, and the bathchamber with the blue tiled tub. She glanced sideways at Xena, to see if she were thinking the same thing.
Malache approached them wearing a smile of such joy it was tangible. She hugged Xena and Gabrielle at once. "I told Mara about Oromenes proposal. Though my term as Harlot has several more months left, I have been released to act as Har in the hieros gamos- the sacred marriage of King and Goddess. With Gabrielle as our witness, we can be wed. Thank you, from my heart, for her life."
Xena smiled, embarrassed. "It's what we do for a living."
Malache looked at Gabrielle, raising an eyebrow at her. "I have one last, vital thing you need to help me with, Gabrielle." The Harlot said, decisively. Malache turned to Xena and lay a hand on the warrior's bracer. "Release her to me for a few hours more. I will return her tonight at the coronation."
Gabrielle saw her plans for an afternoon alone in the tub with Xena melting away. "Malache, are you sure that this is necessary? I'm sure lots of people want to help you get ready for-" The look in the Harlot's eyes stopped her cold. "Oh, right. That thing, that you need me to help you prepare for. Xena, it's only a few hours. I'll meet you at the Temple tonight." Gabrielle gave Xena a quick kiss, then hurried off with Malache, arm in arm, their heads bent together.
Xena shrugged, disappointed. She'd hoped to have a few private moments with Gabrielle, away from the royal ceremonies and Temple crowds. It had been an eon since they had a chance to be alone, longer since they'd shared a bed. Sleeping on a pile of rugs in a dead satraps' tent with three other people hardly counted. Xena felt curiously disappointed that Gabrielle didn't want to steal time alone with her, after all that had passed between them. The first chance they had, she snuck off with Malache, who must have a thousand Harlots to help her dress for the coronation. Deciding that she had been abandoned, Xena gave full rein to her melancholy and stalked from the Temple. That's the way it is with a charioteer, she thought. When the race is run, the crowd forgets you. She went back to the palace rooms, but they were too empty without her bard. The Lord Chabouk was supposed to return in triumph, a conquering hero with my woman across my saddle bow, not alone and friendless in an empty palace. - she thought, wryly. She tasted the sound of that, my woman, and wondered if Gabrielle would laugh. More than likely. The bard was her own woman, no matter how attached she was to Xena. She glanced around the rooms, wondering if a few hours were up yet.
"Malache. Are you sure that this is necessary? After all we've been through, all I can think about is stealing a few moments alone with her." Gabrielle said, when they were safely out of Xena's hearing.
The Harlot nodded, surprised Gabrielle even questioned it. "Create anticipation- absolutely necessary. Every Harlot learns that first. We have an advantage, anticipation is built into the initiation. But our warrior doesn't know that she is being initiated, so. What's the next step?"
"Make an entrance." Gabrielle repeated.
"Yes. Which you will do at the coronation. Then?" Malache asked.
"Establish physical contact. Set your initiate at ease. Then, remove that ease."
Malache tilted her head. "With?"
"More contact." Gabrielle said, grinning.
The Harlot smiled at her with pride. "You'll be great. Remember, set up hope, remove it, restore it."
"Right. Get cuddly, then tell her we've been invited to the all night celebration at the palace. Watch her eyes, then tell her I have another idea." Gabrielle said, relishing the thought.
Malache put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "I'll have my house ready for you. You can handle the rest."
"You and Oromenes make it look easy."
"It is easy, once you stop resisting. You're in Har, now be of Har. Let go. Tonight will be your sacrifice to the Goddess."
Hours later, rested, bathed, leathers oiled and armor polished Xena set out for the Temple. The streets were like a carnival setting up, choked with people dressed in their finest, flowers and garlands thrown in the air, trampled underfoot. Bruised petals perfumed the whole City. Amphorae of wine were set out at public tables, turning the entire City into the site for a revel. Xena walked through the colorful crowds like a dark specter, glowering at the merriment. The Temple was thronged, the square full of the populace of the City. The ceremony would take place in the Temple proper, but afterward the Great King would come out and greet the people. Xena wondered how Oromenes, raised alone in the desert, would handle the human ocean.
Xena forced her way through the crowd in the courtyard, up to the Temple steps. Harrians soldiers in dress mail with silver worked spears guarded the entrance. She climbed the steps slowly, letting her height and presence announce her.
The soldiers, at least, reacted to her at once, snapping their spears down and saluting. "Lord Chabouk. Welcome. You are awaited within. I will alert the High Priestess."
"No. I'll do that myself." Xena was pleased to see that her reorganization of the army had gone well. Her orders were obeyed instantly and without comment. She kept her face deceptively still until she'd passed the soldiers, then breaking into a huge grin. If I could only get certain other people to obey me like that, she thought.
The Temple was as packed as the courtyard, with nobles, satraps, soldiers, Harlots, and all one hundred seventy eight of Oromenes siblings in royal colors. Xena watched a knot of royal kin go by, and decided that they did have a similar look to the leopard prince, the set of the jaw and those jet eyes. Amasis, she concluded, had been a handsome man in his youth, for he'd gifted his multitudinous offspring with a certain beauty. None of them matched Oromenes, though, who seemed to be Dummuzi incarnate.
"There she is. Should I go to her?" Gabrielle asked Malache.
"No. Let her notice you. Observe, she watches the crowd in a pattern, one end of the room, then back. She's looking for you. Go stand by the pillar and let her find you."
Gabrielle chewed her lower lip. "Okay. Are you ready for tonight?" She asked the Harlot.
"I've waited three years for it." Malache said, and pushed Gabrielle toward the pillar. "Go on, before she spots you."
Gabrielle posed against the pillar, leaning back with one arm above her head. No, too dramatic, she thought. She shifted quickly to a hand on her hip, eyes half lidded, lips in a sultry pout. No, trying too hard, she thought. She tried just leaning back with her eyes closed.
"If only you waited so for me, I might die without fear, for I have seen paradise." The voice was low, and rich, right by her ear.
Gabrielle jumped, and looked right into the handsome brown face of Haria. The actress was wearing a vest of white silk, chased with gold and brass embroidery. Her square cut black hair was held back with a cloth of gold band.
"Haria. I wasn't expecting you."
"The sorrow of my life." The actress said, amused.
"Xena told me about Aspasia. I'm sorry." Gabrielle said.
Haria inclined her head in a stately bow. "I have the Chabouk to thank for her vengeance. I hear Megabyzus is greeting his ancestors in hell." Haria looked over Gabrielle, examining the gown she wore. "It's funny. Aspasia was a wonderful judge of people most of the time, but she had these odd blind spots. Megabyzus was one. She was also convinced that you and the Lord Chabouk weren't lovers. Yet, I see you now, and know she was wrong." The actress leaned in and kissed Gabrielle, a swift passing of her lips. "If every you tire of a charioteer and yearn for an actress, you know where to find me." She walked away into the crowd before Gabrielle could speak.
Deciding that Xena probably couldn't even see her over the crowd, Gabrielle hopped up on the base of the pillar, and looked out over the sea of heads. Xena spotted her right away, the restless sweep of her blue eyes locking onto the bard. How does she do that? I feel it like heat- Gabrielle thought.
The tall, leather clad woman divided the crowd like a trireme, making for Gabrielle. The room seemed too full of bodies, she was tempted to start throwing them aside. She reached the pillar, and lost her breath.
Gabrielle was dressed in a Harlot's gown, the wonderfully inviting spider spun fabric dyed a thousand shades of green, from emerald to malachite, agate to a dusty gray like pine needles. Her hair had been curled with hot tongs dipped in ambergris, and held back with a gold fillet. Gabrielle took one look at Xena's face and thanked Malache. It had been worth it.
Xena took her hands. "You look gorgeous. Inviting, welcoming, splendid, and Harrian."
Maybe it was the glow of adoration from the bard's face, the endless welcome, the recognition, but Xena had never felt so regarded. Those green eyes saw every part of her, pierced the shadows and called her out into an embrace. Her melancholy of the afternoon vanished in that open look of love. The warrior stood gazing raptly at Gabrielle, until she came into her arms.
Malache, from her vantagepoint, saw the look on Xena's face when Gabrielle embraced her, and smiled. Har couldn't let them ignore that bond any longer. Were the Greek gods too busy bickering to see the agony these two endured in keeping apart?- Malache wondered. She breathed a small prayer of thanks that Har had let her be born in the Goddess' kingdom, and turned her mind back to the ceremony.
A hush fell on the room, the drums and cymbals muffled. The High Priestess was entering with her entourage of Harlots. Seven Harlots proceeded her with flutes and lyres, the music light and delicate. Seven more came after them, dancing, scattering the tiny white flowers called Lady's Tears. Mara, in her gown and mantle, carried a staff and a scythe. She swept through the crowd and onto the raised platform by the altar.
Gabrielle watched the rites, fascinated. Xena watched Gabrielle.
The Goddess seemed to like flowers, music and food, the Greeks thought. Offerings of grapes and grain, wine and bread were left at the feet of the statue of Har. Incense burned, Harlots danced. Mara stood before the altar and recited the prophecy. The music died. A new entourage came up the aisle, men dressed in the skins and horns of goats, leaping and frolicking, scattering summer grass and herbs. They rushed at the crowd and drove them back, unruly. A goatherd came after them, in a rough brown mantle and breeches, boiled leather sandals on his feet. He wielded a shepherd's stick, and drove the goats back into line, away from the people. He paused and looked up, as if his name had been called from above. The crowd gasped. He was beautiful as Dummuzi, who he portrayed, lithe and strong, with the carriage of a young god. They sighed, and fell in love.
From the altar, next to Mara, a Goddess stepped down. Even Gabrielle, who'd helped her dress, was hard pressed to recognize Malache in this vision. In the scarlet gown, floating like a cloud, her hair thrown over her shoulders, unbound, she was magnificent, commanding. The goatherd fell to his knees, casting away his stick. The Goddess walked to him, lifted him up and embraced him. The embrace turned carnal, she loomed over the beautiful boy, kissing him passionately. He lay boneless in her embrace, his surrender complete. She lifted him on the altar, and took the curved knife from Mara. In one swift stroke she slashed his throat. Blood jetted into the air. Yet it wasn't his blood, a goat lay on the altar, it's throat cut.
The boy rose up and cast off his rags, revealing robes of white and purple and gold underneath. His eyes were bright and clear as he took the hand of the Goddess. Mara stepped before them, knelt, and kissed their feet. She rose, and took up the crown, a circlet of gold set with rubies. Wait, thought Xena. Remember my warning, don't speak. The crowd surged forward, to hear the name of the prince who would become Great King. In the ceremony, the prince was always presented to Har before he was transformed.
Mara set the circlet on the prince's bowed head, and stepped back. The crowd buzzed. What was going on? Why had the boy not been identified? Mara stepped forward to them, raising her arm. "As the Goddess has foretold, Oromenes of Baluchis, Beloved of the Goddess, Great King." She waited a few heartbeats, then added. "Former prince of Har, Daughter of Amasis."
Xena couldn't suppress a small shout of triumph.
"What's going on? Mara just gave Oromenes away!" Gabrielle said, horrified.
"No. Remember Amasis' dream? The child must not be revealed to be other than a prince. Well, she wasn't. She was crowned Great King, before she was named. She's not a prince anymore. The dream is over, Oromenes is safe."
Mara addressed the new Great King. "In the name of the Great Mother, in wisdom and in strength, accept stewardship of Her City, her kingdom and Her people. May your rule be praised and honored in the hearts of all your people. Har's blessing on you, Oromenes, Great King."
Mara and Malache stepped back. Oromenes stood alone before the altar of Har in prayer, then turned to her people. The black eyes of the Great King regarded the mesmerized room, waiting for favor, waiting to adore. When the Great King smiled, they fell in love with her youth, her strength and her beauty. The clear young voice spoke to them, first of loss, of Amasis who had been the father she'd never met, now in the arms of the Goddess.
"Oh my people, let not our mourning seek to reject the gifts Har has brought us. People of Har, I give you Azarnes, brother of Amasis, General of the Goddess' Army."
Xena's eyebrow went up. She wasn't expecting that, but it was a good call on Oromenes part. Azarnes was an old soldier, in need of a new command, and wholly devoted to her. He would serve the kingdom well.
Azarnes ascended the dais, and stood behind the Great King, to the cheers of the room. His age and grave demeanor highlighted the youth and beauty of Oromenes, presenting a fine spectacle.
The Great King was speaking again. "I would not have my life, nor my kingdom, were it not for the courage and wisdom of these two, who the Goddess set to guide her kingdom in transition. People of Har, I give you the Lord Chabouk Xena, and Gabrielle of Greece. "
From the bard's grin, she'd known this was going to happen. "Come on, they're waiting for us." She tugged the reluctant warrior up onto the dais. Xena towered over Oromenes, yet the Great King seemed to fill the space.
Oromenes kissed both of Gabrielle's cheeks, then dared the same with Xena. "I name you Friends of the Royal House, Chosen of the Goddess. I confer on you the eternal rank of Chabouk. You will always be welcome in Har." When the cheering rang through the room, Oromenes leaned in and said "Thank you for my life, and the life of Malache. Ask anything of me."
Xena bent down and hissed "I'd like to get off this dais, your highness."
"Soon enough. Gabrielle has a promise to keep." Oromenes said.
When the crowd had settled, the Great King addressed them again. "This last is from my heart. The Goddess gave me a gift three years gone, and I promised her a lifetime of service in gratitude. Let this be the first mark of my faith." The Great King held out a hand, and Malache stepped forward.
Xena gasped. Malache was resplendent. Surely Aphrodite born from the sea foam looked less splendid before the world. She took Oromenes hand and stepped beside her. Mara handed Gabrielle a scarlet cord. Xena looked at her for an explanation, but the bard only grinned.
Gabrielle took the cord and draped it over the joined hands of Malache and Oromenes. "I've always believed that everyone has a soul mate. This, Malache and Oromenes, is in recognition of your balance. May you have a long life, full of joy." She kissed both of them.
Oromenes took Malache in her arms, kissing her as if nothing else in the world meant anything. The room seemed to sigh, again, at the sight, of the Goddess embracing Dummuzi.
They parted, and Oromenes turned to the waiting crowd. "Behold Malache the Beautiful, Queen of Har!" The Great King's clear voice rang with joy. The Great King and Queen stepped down off the dais and headed for the Temple square, to greet the gathered populace.
Azarnes ambled over to Xena and Gabrielle, a small smile carving his thin lips. "The room should clear out now. Har's blood, but after nineteen years in the desert, I'd forgotten what royal ceremonies were like." He said, hitching at his unaccustomed finery.
"Oromenes seemed at home, though. A tribute to your teaching." Xena said, and Azarnes smiled at the compliment, but shook his head.
"She's on her own with all this. I think it's Malache's doing. They look good together, yes?" They listened to the roar of the crowd in the courtyard. "We won't see them again for days. They belong to the people now." He clapped Xena on the shoulder, a buffet that would have staggered a weaker person. "Thank you for holding the reins, Chabouk. I'll be at the palace, getting drunk." He swaggered off, looking almost cheerful.
Gabrielle and Xena were left alone on the dais, before the statue of Har. Gabrielle slid her hand down Xena's arm, from her powerful biceps to the bracer that shielded her forearm. "I've missed this." She said, stroking.
"So have I. I feel like I haven't had you to myself in weeks." Xena said, breathing more swiftly.
"You haven't. We've been saving the kingdom, putting down mad satraps and generals, enthroning Great Kings. The usual."
Gabrielle heard Malache's voice in the back of her head. Set her at ease, then remove that ease. She leaned in to Xena and kissed her, slowly. "I haven't thanked you, Chabouk, for saving my life."
"Did you have something in mind?" Xena's voice was a low growl at Gabrielle's ear.
"Uh huh." The bard said, kissing the warrior again. "We've been invited back to the palace for the traditional celebration that follows the crowning of a Great King. It's said to last for days. I thought you might enjoy all the adulation of the crowd." Gabrielle said. She was rewarded with the fires of Hades, blazing up in Xena's eyes. She almost giggled and ruined the moment. "Or, you could follow me."
"Where?" Xena's voice was wary.
"Wherever I lead you. I have something special in mind."
True to her word, Malache had left her house prepared for them. Frettered lamp clusters were lit in the bedchamber. The only other light was single candles set on each step leading up to it, from the garden walk. The windows were shuttered, but the scent of lemon and damson trees filtered in through the latticework. Handfuls of perfume had been scattered over the bed, low and wide and Harrian with cushions and hangings of linen. A painting of the return of Dummuzi graced the wall above the bed, the story progressing from Har's Grief, to Chehou's kidnapping, to the embracing of the Goddess and her lover. The frank carnality of it surprised Xena, but not Gabrielle, who'd spent the day with Malache in the Temple Library, looking at certain illustrated scrolls. She had to hand it to the Harrians, they took their pleasure seriously. She doubted if she would ever be that limber. Wine tables were set by the bed, with two cups of enameled silver, a copper jug of wine and a plate of black grapes.
Gabrielle watched Xena's reaction to the room out of the corner of her eye, and saw definite interest. She mentally thanked Malache. "Why don't you sit down? " She said to Xena, casually, as she walked to the wine table. She poured some of the local vintage. Xena took the cup with both hands. While the warrior's hands were busy, Gabrielle undid the buckles of her breastplate and let the straps hang. She sat down on the cushions by the wine table, pouring another cup. Xena, entranced by the wine, entranced by the heady notion of being alone with Gabrielle after so long, took the unspoken suggestion and removed her armor. Bracers, Chakram and armbands swiftly followed, leaving her in greaves and leathers. She filled her lungs with the scented air, and let it ease out again.
Gabrielle came and sat down beside her. She reached up and kissed Xena, tasting the sweet wine on her lips. They held the kiss long enough that Xena set the wine cup aside, wrapping Gabrielle in her arms. The kiss moved from a heartfelt expression of love to an invitation, playful and daring. Gabrielle had never kissed Xena this way, but had waited to, longed to. Just as Malache had predicted, Xena was slow to initiate, letting Gabrielle take the lead. She's still not sure I want this, Gabrielle thought. Sweet idiot.
"Let's play a game." She said, moving the armor to the floor.
"What kind of game?" Xena asked, guarded.
"I get to do what I want, and you don't." Gabrielle said, brightly.
Xena frowned. "That's not a game."
"Sure it is. You're always in control out in the world. Warrior Princess, Lord Chabouk, full time hero. Let's see what happens if you give that up. Just for a little while." Gabrielle said, hoping she'd taken the right tack.
"You've been talking to Malache." Xena growled, nettled.
"Come on, Xena. You can trust me." The bard's green eyes were as wide and innocent as she could make them.
Xena leveled her blue eyes, taking in the smile quirking at Gabrielle's lips, the wicked sparkle in her eyes. Then she did something Gabrielle had never seen. Her face relaxed, the wary look left her eyes. Gabrielle could almost hear the clang of a shield being dropped. "All right." She said.
"Good. Take off your leathers and stretch out on your stomach." Gabrielle said, patting the bed. In a movement eloquent of trust, without smirking or frowning at her, Xena did.
Gabrielle sat for a moment, amazed by the vulnerability Xena showed her. She'd never been this unguarded with her, unless she was unconscious. To have the warrior deliberately offer her back, lay her head on her folded arms and wait was stunning. She finally had the leisure to really look at Xena, the length of her legs, the deceptive softness of her skin, sleek as a cat, hiding iron muscle. Xena had honed her body like a weapon until it responded brilliantly with speed, power and devastating force. It was made for furious action against impossible odds, not for reclining amidst silken cushions while perfumed wind played across it. Her back was mapped by scars, the signposts of a violent life. Knife wounds, arrow wounds, the slash of a sword, cuts, burns, broken bones all left their mark on her. Some were more than a decade old, their bloody history unknown to the bard. Some Gabrielle knew from their time together. I've sewn up more than my share of tears in this skin, she thought.
Gabrielle stretched out her hands over Xena's body, a hair's breadth from the skin. She started at Xena's feet, covering the warrior's body with long strokes, not quite ever touching the flesh. She concentrated as she'd been shown, and started to feel the heat coming from her hands. It was subtle at first, then a rush, crackling the air between skin and skin.
"What are you doing?" Xena asked, a purr starting in her voice.
"Letting what's in my heart come to my skin." Gabrielle said, feeling the energy gallop up and down her arms.
"I didn't know you could do that." Xena said.
"Malache taught me." Gabrielle said.
Xena pushed herself up on her elbows, staring over her shoulder wide eyed, and Gabrielle realized what she thought. "Not like that. Lay down." She pushed Xena lightly, and the warrior stretched back out.
"Nobody ever gets to touch you." Xena murmured, thickly.
"Not even you?" The bard asked, pleased by the possessive tone.
"Me, yes. Nobody else."
Instill comfort, then remove that comfort, Malache had said. So Gabrielle leaned down and bit the back of Xena's neck, her teeth closing on the skin just enough to prove she'd been there. Xena gasped, and her energy changed under Gabrielle's hands, quickening. She bridged the gap and touched Xena's skin, beginning the drawing of the lion's claws, from her powerful shoulders to the small of her back. Xena arched under her hands, and she had a hard time convincing her to lay back down. "Not yet. We're still playing a game, remember?" Xena, as used to being headlong in her desires as in her fighting, had to be pushed back down. She muttered something about revenge, then subsided.
Gabrielle continued her journey, from the backs of Xena's thighs down her hard calves, to the soles of her feet. Xena groaned very gratifyingly, the bard thought. She tapped Xena's back. "Roll over." Xena did, languidly, staring at Gabrielle with pleasure drunk eyes. That's the look I've been waiting for, Gabrielle thought with a shock.
"Now what are you doing?" Xena asked, eyes half lidded.
"Getting to know you. There's a lot to get to know." Gabrielle said, hoping desperately that Malache had been right about this part.
Xena lay back without being asked, splendid as a lioness after the hunt, inviting her to go on. The bard's measured pace was just bearable when it was just her hands, Xena decided. It was neither slow enough to be hesitant, nor quick enough to be frenzied. It was balanced enough to charge from relaxing to maddening and back, and Xena, who had been tortured by some of the best was hard put to endure it. But when Gabrielle added her mouth, it was too much. Xena rose up and kissed her, fiercely, forgetting that it was just a game.
"No." The bard said, pulling back.
"No? Don't you want-" Xena asked, confused.
"Of course, and you'll see how much. But we're playing a game. You gave me your word." Gabrielle spoke, a finger's length away from Xena's lips. The blend of humor, desire, and frustration on Xena's face was like wine to her. Xena lay back down with insolent slowness. She closed her eyes when Gabrielle's lips touched her again and began to see visions.
Gabrielle, the harvest queen, came to her with the fires of civilization, of cultivation and green growing things, of life ordered into streets and houses, vineyards and fields of grain. Xena's mind began to reel. I fight so I will not have to kill forever, so that more people can live her way, I am a savage on the side of heaven, the sword of fate that she wields, dividing life from life. I am the destroyer in the embrace of goodness, the blade the hews down the wheat. And in her hands is life, and in her breast is civilization, my restless bloodstained fingers grasp for it, slide away, only to be met by her strength. The destroyer and the preserver meet, and love, and are one in perfect balance. "Now, Gabrielle, please."
It was the single word of pleading that broke Gabrielle, destroying her control. She met the thrust of Xena's hips, surprised at the violence of her desire, hoping she could meet it. There was nothing in Malache's teaching to prepare her for this, for the sweaty meeting of their bodies, the force of the warrior's climax, closing around her hand. She nearly wept, feeling it. Gabrielle left her hand inside Xena, feeling the breeze from the latticed windows move over them.
She felt herself being gathered into Xena's arms, and did cry, surprising herself. "I love you, Xena."
The warrior slicked back her tangled black mane and grinned, cradling the bard to her chest. She kissed the top of her head. "I love you too. I always have. You are full of surprises." Xena's hand trailed lazily down her back, stroking her hip. "So, is the game over?" She asked.
Gabrielle nodded, her head against Xena's chest.
Xena locked thighs with Gabrielle, flipping her onto her back. "Good. I get to do what I want now." She said, looming over the bard.
"You are so competitive." Gabrielle said, delighted. Xena sat, pulling Gabrielle into her lap. The bard knelt, straddling Xena, resting her hands on the warrior's powerful shoulders. Xena's dark head bent to her breast. This gives a whole new meaning to hero worship, Gabrielle thought, and moaned.
It wasn't just the warrior's lips. It was the way the callused hands, hardened from years of contact with sword hilt and spear haft, cradled her back, allowing her to relax completely into Xena's assault. Thought, technique and lessons fled. Gabrielle felt Xena's arm gather her closer, supporting her. Where had Xena's other hand gone?- she wondered lazily, then knew. The long fingers stroked her with maddening slowness, until Xena felt how wet she was.
"Gabrielle." She opened her eyes into the bluest gaze she'd ever seen. "I want you to look at me."
The bard's instinct was to close her eyes when she felt Xena's fingers entering her. She stayed locked with Xena, her mouth open, until Xena's fingers started to move. She folded over Xena's shoulder, crying out, biting into the muscle. And she knew the frenzy of blood that had been a stranger to her, all her life. Knew that she'd die if Xena took her fingers away. She felt her soul shake loose and run toward the warrior and called on the gods, on Har, on Xena who held her and anchored her. Nothing had prepared her for this, or for the look of pride in her lover's eyes. She clung to Xena as it subsided, panting into the side of her neck.
"Sorry that was so quick. I've wanted you for too long to play." Xena said, kissing her. Xena lay Gabrielle back down and stroked her, until the worried look in Gabrielle's eyes stopped her cold. "What is it?" She asked, fear clutching at her heart. Had she hurt the bard, or overestimated her desire?
"It's like this between us because we're in Har. What happens when we leave?" Gabrielle asked, looking away from Xena.
The warrior chuckled, softly. "You can take the woman out of Har, but not Har out of the woman." It worked, Gabrielle looked at her and laughed. "It's like this between us because it's us. I've always loved you. Not even death will separate us." Xena said, her voice low and serious. The bard's eyes held hers, in wisdom and acceptance.
"Promise me?"
Xena promised, and kissed Gabrielle like a sacrament. "You know, I owe Malache a debt of gratitude. I should sacrifice a white bull at the Temple. " Xena said, running Gabrielle's hair through her fingers.
"I think we've already made our sacrifice to Har."
Xena grinned, hugely, and pulled Gabrielle on top of her. "I could get to like it here."
Out in the Red City, the revel for the coronation of the Great King and Queen burned on toward the dawn. Azarnes paused in lifting his winecup, feeling a faint sensation pass through the room. He shrugged, and reached for more wine. In the middle of a banquet, amidst the riot and music, Oromenes turned to Malache, who smiled. She'd felt it as well, the shift in the balance. The former Harlot kissed her King. It would be long until they were alone again, but in the center of the people, they were together. And the sword was laid down over the hearth, the fire was lit. The black eagle rose and embraced the sun, the golden light banished the darkness.
The End
Continued in The Amazons of Dahomey.