Disclaimer: Xena: Warrior Princess and its characters are the properties of Renaissance Pictures, Studios USA and MCA/Universal. This text is a strictly non-commercial piece of fan fiction inspired by and celebrating this wonderful show.

This is general fan fiction intended to read as an episode, not really as a piece of literature.

Spoiler Alert: The plot takes place during season 4 between the episodes 4.84 (The Way) and 4.85 (The Play's the Thing). It alludes slightly to events in earlier episodes, but nothing that spectacular is being revealed. The events in this text takes place shortly after those described in Way of the Road Warrior (fan fiction).

Sex & Violence: Sorry, no sex, some violence though, on pair with the more violent episodes.

Don't miss out on Christopher and Sofia's site The Chakram Arcs! http://medlem.spray.se/chakramarcs

THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY
by Christopher Härnryd

---

When Joxer opened his eyes, everything was dark. He pondered this in confusion. What exactly had happened? He had made a visit to his barely reformed brother Jett in prison, and then strolled around in the town. Where had he gone? And why did his head hurt? Granted, having an aching head was nearly a natural condition for Joxer. If he escaped being attacked by an inadvertently insulted stranger, he was usually struck by Gabrielle or some maliciously placed piece of architecture.

He manly shrugged of the budding daydream of Gabrielle with her cute little stick (which he missed), and used instead the organ between his ears to solve the mystery at hand. He used his nose.

It definitely smelled of barrel. The previous content of the barrel was unclear, but mattered not, even if it probably was fish. It was almost always fish. But the main thing was the smell of a barrel. Joxer had spent quite some time in barrels, learning all that was to now about their insides, especially the scent of a genuine barrel. The wooden smell of a barrel is different from every other wooden smell.

Well, that solved it. He was in a barrel. Either upside down with his legs in the air or in a more upright position in a barrel with a lid on. With great cunning he waved his legs to discern the truth. This made his head push the lid up and gave Joxer the appearance of a Chin official down on his luck. Since Joxer's helmet was elsewhere, the lid remained on his head.

Ah, the memories returned. This was the temple-square where that warlordly thug had taken offence to Joxer and knocked him out. To his right was the cake like temple of Aphrodite, all rosy and golden. To his right was the fortified and blood red temple of Ares. Straight ahead Ares and Aphrodite was talking. Otherwise, the square was empty, a big change compared to Joxer's latest memories. He wondered where everyone had gone. Only then did the part of his head that was not nose or ears, react and froze him in frightened surprise.

Because there, only ten-fifteen yards ahead, was the god of war in archetypal black studded leather and the goddess of love, clad or at least draped in near-transparency, talking to each other. He desperately tried to think of something to do, but nearly every plan included a modicum of movement on his part, and was therefore out of the question. Enter Plan A: 'Stay absolutely still and shut your eyes until the scary thing goes away'.

He was, however, unable to shut his ears.

"Sit down and wait?" Aphrodite asked. "My temples and my worshipers are in danger and you're going to sit down and wait!"

"It's called strategy," Ares said. "It requires brains, that's why you can't handle it."

"Humph!" Aphrodite snorted. "More like a firm seat. I can TO do that!"

"My worshipers and my temples are also at stake," Ares continued with routine immunity to sarcasm. "I know what I'm doing. The enemy must beat its way through three armies before it reaches our territories."

"ExSQUEEZE me!" Aphrodite interrupted. "Ogle my hand a minute, will you? Now, this extremely well manicured finger is the horse-crazy Scythians. They mount okay, I admit. This other equally extremely well manicured finger is the sadly unwashable but massively masculine Horde. But what, except from being delicious and mind-blowingly well manicured, is this little finger? Eh? Eh?"

"Xena," Ares curtly answered.

In his barrel, Joxer opened his mouth and then shut it again. He nearly dropped the lid balancing on his head.

"Xena's army? I thought she'd stopped doing cluster stuff."

"I said Xena, not Xena's army."

"I'm late for the finals of Miss Wet Toga in Thebes, but Xena is no army."

Ares tilted his head and looked at her: "Wanna bet?" He drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword and continued: "But that won't save her."

Joxer gasped and couldn't resist neither opening his eyes nor lowering himself deeper into the barrel until only a thin hair of daylight remained for him.

"Yadi, yadi, yadi and THAT's where my bore-o-meter exploded."

Having said this, Aphrodite disappeared in a cloud of fading gold dust. Ares remained standing a couple of moments frowning and staring at nothing. Then he turned, and for one single, dreadful moment Joxer realised that the gaze of the war god would by necessity pass over his hideout. Whimpering, Joxer crouched, the lid closing above him. In the darkness he felt his way to his helmet and pushed it hard over his ears.

A multitude of deafening heartbeats later, he opened the lid slightly, discovered only an empty square, and jumped out like a jack-in-the-box.

"Not good, not good!" He left the temple-square running.


"Yeeeehaaa!" Xena shouted joyfully, and Argo accelerated into full gallop over the flat hill.

A few minor obstacles appeared in their way, but Argo eagerly leapt over both fallen trees and shrubbery. Gabrielle sat cross-legged on the slope and watched in amusement while holding her pen still, waiting for ink and inspiration to flow to the nearly unwritten scroll in her lap.

Since having reached Argo late in the morning, Xena had been glued to the horse's back. It was now noon. Gabrielle scribbled down a few lines, read them sceptically, and put the scroll away on a stone to dry, while she went for the bags. It was her turn to cook. As usual.

Gabrielle had an active imagination, a double-edged trait. One disadvantage was that unpleasant things could form in the subconscious and appear unexpectedly and realistically in dreams and premonitions. Fully fledged hallucinations were rare, but since she was not presently asleep, she hoped that the sight appearing before her eyes was indeed a horrid fluke of her mind. What she thought she saw was this: a shape crawling through the grass towards her. It crept spasmodically, hands stretched out to her, pawing the air. The tongue hang lewdly out of the mouth and ropes of saliva swung from it. The eyes stared wildly and greedily at her. The breathing was heavy and panting. The face was pale and drenched in sweat. It belonged to Joxer.

"Uh! she managed. Stop!"

"Gabrielle?" the apparition panted. "Gabrielle!"

To her relief, Joxer collapsed into a bundle more like the annoying clown with a heart of...at least silver.

When Argo approached at a walking-pace, allowing Xena to dismount, Joxer had already regained his breath and drunk his fill (with water). He still looked tired, but in a more ordinary Joxerly way.

"Xena! Hi!"

"Hello Joxer," she answered with a slight smile. "How was Jett?"

"Well, you know, he's in prison. Not exactly singing Hestian hymns every day, but not trying constantly to escape either. At least not when I was there. We had bars between us and several guards in the room and he was chained hand and feet, but we talked about...well, stuff you talk about."

Xena nodded amicably and began unsaddling Argo.

"I see you got your horse," Joxer remarked.

"We got each other," Xena answered and put the saddle away to begin rubbing down the content but sweating horse.

"Xena," Gabrielle said in a tone of happy warning. "You're splashing horse-sweat into the pot."

"Put a lid on already."

"You threw it at that bandit."

"Come Argo," Xena said in a haughty to her four-legged friend. "We will leave the Queen of Amazons to entertain her guest in private."

They did however move a couple of yards and the food could continue to simmer without excessive salting.

When they had settled down and eaten for a while, it was becoming obvious that Joxer had something on his mind. He was fidgeting about, beginning sentence after sentence but stopping after a vowel or two, licking his lips and wandering with his eyes. Finally, Xena took pity on him: "Yes, Joxer?"

"Yes, well, you see, when I was in Korinth, I happened to hear Ares mentioning that you was an army, but that wouldn't help you fighting those that fought the Scythians and the Horde. Aphrodite didn't think you an army, by the way. Erm."

Two pairs of female eyes met in shared incomprehension. Gabrielle leaned towards Joxer and said calmly and with careful enunciation: "What?"

They left Joxer sleeping in the afternoon sun and went for a walk to the hilltop. It had taken some time, but by now they were pretty sure they had extracted everything important from him.

"At least Ares have learnt not to force you into following him," Gabrielle remarked after a period of silence.

Ahead, the view had an almost artificial beauty with rolling hills, emerald groves, sun-silvered waters and the occasional tiny stone-building and shepherd's hut.

"It only means he's sure I'll do what he wants without him telling me. But if it's true that an enemy capable of defeating both the Scythians and the Horde is coming for Greece, then he's right that every one must help in the defence." Xena peered at the north-eastern horizon.

"Is that where the Scythians are living?" Gabrielle asked and got a nod in return. "Who is the enemy?" she continued. "Is it the Persians? You've beaten them twice all by yourself."

Now Xena shook her head slowly. "I didn't beat the Persians. I frightened off an invasion force once and I outraced a cavalry unit once. Should they come in full strength to an unprepared Greece, then we're in trouble. But I don't think it's Persia. Why would they waste energy on the Scythians when they could come straight at us? And to reach the Horde they'd have to make a long detour. No, this is something else."

"Chin then?"

"Perhaps," Xena admitted.

"Or Alti?"

Xena turned to face Gabrielle and hesitated for several seconds before answering: "I won't say it's impossible, not after what we saw in India. But I don't think so."

"What about India?" Gabrielle tried. "Dakini might want revenge."

"Revenge!" Xena snorted. "She won. That I don't feel like a loser is beside the point. She fought for Kali and Kali won anyway. No, it isn't Dakini. Besides, an Indian army would have to fight it's way through Persia before encountering either Scythians or Greeks."

"So we really don't know," Gabrielle summed it all up. "Rome being in the wrong direction is well known even to me. As is Egypt and Cartage. Centaurs and amazons..."

Xena frowned and stared at her.

"...I'm only mentioning to complete our list, and they are closer to us than the Scythians."

"The list isn't complete, Gabrielle, we don't have enough knowledge."

"Hum. Yeah."

They were silent for a few moments. Then Gabrielle made a suggestion: "Of course, we could ask Ares."

"No!"

"Or Aphrodite."

"Sure, if we wanted confusion instead of facts. No, we will just have to go there and look."

"To Scythia!?"

"No."

"Phew! I mean..."

"First to the Horde, then to Scythia."


"So, I now believe you'll have to admit that I'm a better thief than you."

The voice had a nasal tone of smugness to it. The speaker's face was round and flat, with straight, middle-blond hair hanging down from where a velvet beret ended. The beret and his neat, white, frilled collar contrasted sharply to the rest of his clothes, mainly consisting of the dirty leather armour of a highwayman. He leaned on the table with one arm and with the fingers of that arm he played with a golden bracelet, twisted into three spirals ending in a lion attacking a deer.

"Ludus," the green-clad man sitting on the opposite side of one of the few tables of the wretched inn asked. "Now, you want me (and here he stroked his moustache with one finger), the king of thieves, to abdicate my throne just because you have looted a tomb."

"Since I'm the only one with the guts to do it," Ludus quickly replied, putting down the piece of jewellery in a bag at his side on the table.

"My dear...Ludus. When calculating a risk, three aspects are relevant. Firstly: what do you gain by taking that risk? In this case, I admit that the weapons and belongings of ancient Amazon Queens are not wholly without interest. Secondly: what are the consequences, should you fail and get caught? Here too, I would agree that being subject to death by torture at the hands of furious Amazons would probably be rather unpleasant."

"Ha!"

"Come now, master dabbler, let me finish. Thirdly, and here, I'm afraid, we are approaching more relevant areas, how large is the risk of failure? You ventured out into the desolate wastelands beyond Scythia, and definitely far, far away from the Greek Amazons, and looted some tombs. Your only chance at fame or infamy is to go to people and force them to listen."

Ludus smiled, his face shiny with the sweat of inebriation. "Autolycus, do you have the guts to do what I did?"

The one addressed cleared his throat in a meaningful way and observed his wooden cup, while tracing it's brim with his index finger. Then he looked up, frowning thoughtfully: "So, you're going to return the goods and restore the grave to mint condition. Hum. Do I have to wear your revolting clothes too?"

"Ha!" Ludus said, with a slight lack of variation. "I haven't looted all of them. There are still some left for you."

"What did you do with the loot, by the way, apart from that antique bracelet? Who would trade in Amazonian funerary gifts?"

"I have my buyers," Ludus nodded enigmatically. "You'll have to get your own. Should you dare to accept, of course!"

Autolycus sighed and glanced at the ceiling: "It's no challenge to a thief to go someplace barbaric and dig a pit. Besides, robbing unguarded graves is beneath any true thief."

Ludus stood, emptying the last of his beer. Then, he put his hands in his belt and said: "You have a month or so. Then I begin to drop hints to various people." Taking his bag, he left.

Autolycus remained. To no-one in particular he said: "The problem with challenges is that the one challenged rarely is in a position to choose the specifics."

He got up and looked in annoyance at the piece of golden jewellery in his hand, before letting it disappear up one sleeve.


"I smell smoke," Gabrielle suddenly remarked, as they where walking the wooden trail. "We're approaching the village."

"The village where you fought the Horde?" Joxer asked.

"No, no, we're not there yet. But this village is on our way there. We rested there one night when travelling here the last time."

"I sure hope they cook a decent meal," Joxer said. "Your stew's all right, but that soup...ouch!"

"If they're cooking, they're burning the food," Xena noted with a look of watchfulness on her face.

Widespread sniffing ensued, especially from Joxer. "You're right Xena. This doesn't smell very good. You'd think they were making a pudding out of straw, wood and mud."

"Roofs," Xena exclaimed and swung herself up into Argo's saddle. She then set out galloping at breakneck speed, narrowly avoiding tress and low branches. Soon, however, she was out of the forest and slowed down to get a quick assessment of the situation.

The village was just a few houses, with no wall or palisade surrounding it. Several of the roofs were burning. People ran around in panic, but mostly away from the village instead of staying to fight the fire. The reason for this came riding out of the village, hunting the fleeing villagers.

"Scythians," Xena hissed, and spurred on Argo to full gallop towards the black-armoured riders with their spiked helmets' skull-motif invisible at this distance. But the swords of the riders were clearly visible as they were lifted high, catching the sun, before coming down on the backs of the fleeing ones' backs. One villager fell, but before the next rider had time to cut anyone, the chakram struck the sword away from his hand. He looked up in annoyance.

Because of that, he was the only one not caught by total surprise when Xena charged the group. It didn't help him much. She rode by within an inch of a running villager and slashed with her sword against one rider and with her newly caught chakram against another, while passing between them. Both tumbled of their horses, shrieking. There was, however, two left of the four who had set out to hunt villagers, and the remaining two skilfully turned their horses around after her and took up the chase. Apparently without being bothered in the least by that, she rode towards the village. There, the main force of the Scythians was in the process of walking around and striking down those villagers who even now came stumbling out of the burning houses, and collecting foodstuff, pigs, sheep and the occasional article of value. Quite a few bodies lay on the ground, without exception those of unarmoured villagers. The Scythian's horses stood obediently at the side, reacting only by turning their heads when Xena came thundering in.

There where eight Scythians, and at least two of them where alert and quick enough to get their swords up. Xena kicked one in the face and parried the other one's swordcut with her own blade. She riposted and he dodged, straight into her kicking foot. By now, the other Scythians were aware of her presence. Some came running waving their swords while others changed weapons to bows. During the short moment she had to prepare, she juggled the sword to her left hand and the chakram to her right, before sending the throwing weapon towards the nearest burning roof. The metal circle flew straight into the flames, spraying showers of hot ashes and embers onto the Scythians in front of the house.

Xena dived sideways out of the saddle to avoid the first arrows, and cart-wheeled her way to a nearby barrel full of rainwater. Yanking out her polishing rag, she pushed it underwater before raising it into the air to catch the heated chakram. With the wet rag, catching it was no problem, and she could face the swordfighters with eager attacks of her own. One hewed at her, while another made a sudden leap, shouting and holding his sword point down like a monstrous knife. She deflected the first cut into the ground, while bending her body to make the leaping Scythian glide harmlessly over her back for a moment. Quickly, she straightened up, making him splash headlong into the barrel. Fortunately for him, the barrel fell over from the impact, and he landed stunned and very wet in an opening flower of barrel-wood.

The swordplay continued with the original Scythian, as well as with two new opponents, ducking high cuts, jumping over low sweeps, turning out of the way of a surprise stab at the groin and in the process side-kicking the attacker in the temple, sending him stumbling into a comrade, disrupting his attack-routine. The third opponent circled around her, trying to get at her back, but sensing him, she raised her sword over her shoulder, the blade parallel with her back and the point facing down, easily parrying him. A backward kick left him breathless. An arrow came whistling and was dodged, while the other two fencers had regained their balance and thrust and swept at her. She drove her sword into it's scabbard, stamped her foot and somersaulted over their heads. When she was upside down straight above them, she grabbed their helmet-spikes and held firm while completing a last rotation before landing.

The two bare-headed Scythians, staggering after the vicious yanks at their heads, was quickly struck down by a pair of hard helmets. An arrow came flying but stuck in the padding of the helmet lightning fast raised in a parry by Xena. The other helmet she hurled crying towards the three archers and one tumbled unconscious out of sight. Xena dropped the other helmet. The remaining archers fired one arrow each, but she caught them simultaneously with each hand, bending her fingers, making the arrows snap in synchronisation and opening her hands she let the remains rotate to the ground. The Scythians glanced at each other and then turned and raced to the horses.

"Xena!" yelled Gabrielle.

Xena, on the verge of pursuing the Scythians, halted and glanced back. But it was only Gabrielle and Joxer who wanted to know what had happened. Xena shrugged and turned her attention towards the Scythian sitting moaning in mud and splinters. He seemed about to recover and tried to focus his gaze on the approaching Warrior Princess. Something hit him in the head and he receded into unconsciousness.

Nothing could be done about the burning houses, but in co-operation with returning villagers, they was able to stop the fire from spreading.

After having tended to the wounded, and making sure no enemies where active in the village, Xena turned her attention once again to the prisoner at the barrel. Gabrielle and Joxer (to a certain extent) were still helping the survivors.

"Wake up, Scythian."

"Urgluuueh..."

Slap!

"I said wake up."

He groaned but opened his eyes, staring at her with stunned hatred mixed with fear.

"You are far from home," she said conversationally while leaning towards him. "What are you doing this far into Greek territory?"

He continued to stare at her in defiance.

"The next time I ask, you will have a time limit," she said and raised her index- and middle fingers.


"Xena," Joxer began the morning after as they were leaving the village. "I don't understand..."

"Xena," Gabrielle interrupted." I don't understand! If the Scythians in the village were fleeing an enemy some other Scythians had seen, why did they attack the villagers? Shouldn't they be busy recruiting allies instead of making more enemies?"

Xena shook her head: "I told you, the Scythians are evil! I know that's far to simple an explanation to you, but they haven't done anything else but raiding and slaying for centuries, Greeks, Persians, everyone coming in their path. I call that evil. I don't think they know any other way of life."

"You're probably right Xena," said Gabrielle as they walked on. "That is a far too simple explanation. But okay, I can accept that they were on the run, frightened and confused, and, seeing an unguarded village, they acted on an impulse, unable to reflect on the fact that it was counter-productive in the long run."

"Write a scroll about it," Xena replied, closing the subject.

At the next brake, on the rocky shore next to a tiny waterfall, Gabrielle rose with a dripping waterskin newly filled, and went to Xena who was affectionately rubbing Argo down. Joxer was further downstream, standing with his feet well apart trying to catch some fish with his bare hands. He was also dripping.

"Who do you think they are?" Gabrielle asked.

Xena held back a reflexive: "Who?" and answered after a short silence: "Something is scaring the Scythians. No ordinary enemy would do that." She had continued rubbing, but now she let her arm rest on Argo's flank. She looked at Gabrielle: "I don't know. I really don't know. And it...bothers me." The rubbing began anew.

Gabrielle, knowing her friend, waited.

"But something must have changed, and changed recently. We would have heard of an enemy such as this otherwise.."


Black boots echoed on the stone floor in Ares' throne room. They were not his, and he frowned in his macabre throne in the shape of a huge skeletal warrior.

"Come on in," he said, sourly. "Don't bother knocking."

The wearer of the boots ignored the simple sarcasm completely and marched on towards to throne. He stopped at it's side, a couple of yards way. It would force Ares to either raise or wriggle undignified if he wanted to look at the visitor. He remained seating, staring pointedly straight ahead.

"Ares," a voice said.

It was an remarkably ordinary voice for a god. Carrying nothing of Ares' scornful aggression or Aphrodite's cooing vulgarity, this voice had no need for either threats or seduction. "You know why I am here."

"To say hello to your favourite nephew," Ares answered, like a sullen child awaiting a reprimand. "Don't you have any dead guys to pick up somewhere, Hades?"

"This enemy must be stopped, Ares. Should it be allowed to enter Greece, the consequences will be dramatic. Are you fully aware of that?"

Now the god of war had had enough, and jumped out of his throne and strode straight at Hades. They faced each other, both in black armour, Ares the primordial warlord, Hades a sepulchral statue.

"We all have temples on Greek soil," Ares hissed. "I don't need you to remind me of that."

"I am not just talking about the temples. Since you know my area of responsibility, you ought to understand the reason for my visit."

"I have the situation completely in my hand," Ares said and pulled his sword. He whirled a few tricks with it before returning it to the scabbard, staring at the older god.

"Aphrodite mentioned two of your buffer armies. Is it true that two of them are at this very minute fighting each other instead of fighting our enemy?"

"You do the cleaning," Ares growled. "I deliver the goods, okay?"

A period of silence followed.

"You do that," Hades then answered and turned, his black mantle billowing.

Ares pulled his sword once more and stared at the retreating god of death.


"My words are for the Queen alone," Autolycus said in a loud voice.

He stood in the middle of the Amazon village, in front of the raised platform with the Queen. He really hoped that it was Ephiny. She wore the regal mask which efficiently concealed not only her head but also her neck. Around her the platform, as well as the square below, was crowded with Amazons, about half of whom were armed in various ways, especially those surrounding him and the Queen.

Those standing next to him had their weapons drawn and aimed at various parts of his upper body. The only reason he was still alive, he was gripping tightly in his hands. He had carried the pole with the rectangular frame at it's top. The frame contained a piece of cloth on which something was written: 'I am an unarmed friend with important information'.

"If it concerns me, it concerns all Amazons."

Ephiny? Possibly. Probably. But the mask muffled its wearers voice making any identification difficult. She anyway began descending on the steep stairs. Her platform bodyguards did not follow. Rather, when she reached the ground and began walking towards Autolycus, every Amazon she passed straightened up and adopted a subtly more watchful and threatening poise. She stopped in front of him and removed the mask. A dark-haired and dark-eyed woman whom Autolycus vaguely recognised knelt quickly to take the mask and stood equally quickly again. Ah, yes, she was the one who once supplied an improvised lockpick from her leather bra. Such things were not easy to forget. Judging from the icy stare she gave him she remembered as well.

"Well," Ephiny said. "What is it?"

"First I need Your Majesty's promise to let me explain myself," Autolycus answered solemnly.

Ephiny frowned: "Spit it out!"

"Do Your Majesty recognise this?" he asked and held the bracelet high.

After a moment, the crowd hissed in surprise and Ephiny opened her eyes wide.

"It is Amazonian," she gasped. "A funeral gift for an Amazon Queen of old."

"I told you it was important," Autolycus replied. "Now do you believe me when I say it's vital I speak to Your Majesty in private?"


"I was hoping for something more relaxed," Autolycus said, looking around in the frugally furnished room. "You know, some snacks, dancing, drumming, long time no see, nice meeting you again dear Autolycus..."

"We have friends in common and have co-operated in the past to save them and us," Ephiny answered while standing with her arms crossed. "But you must understand that many Amazons would rather die than see a male in the village. I'm not one of them, but our survival depends on us recognising our traditions."

"There's fruit and water on the table if you're hungry," she continued with a nod.

Autolycus brightened and grabbed a big banana, eyeing it in a meaningful way before methodically peeling it and eating it. "So," he began between mouthfuls. "Well, I obviously didn't loot any Amazon graves."

"No? How come you have the bracelet?"

"Come on! If I really did do it and absolutely had to see you, wouldn't it have been much easier for me to sneak past your guards, enter your village, and have a little encounter in your bedchamber, instead of going to such extremes to prove my good intentions to the whole tribe? No, I stole the bracelet from the one who stole it from the Amazon grave."

"And now you want to sell it back to the Amazons," Ephiny said in a cold voice.

"I'm shocked! Hurt! Just who do you think I am? You take it, as a gift, a token of my good-will."

With a flowery gesture, he put the bracelet on the table next to the bowl of fruit. Ephiny did not move, except to raise her eyebrows and tilt her head slightly, expectantly. Autolycus remained standing with a broad smile for a short while. Then he hissed between smiling teeth: "What?"

"I'm not saying you're an evil man," Ephiny said, for the first time with the shadow of a smile on her face. "I might even go so far as to call you a good man. But you're always trying to gain something, whatever the circumstances. In this case, it is obviously something that the other Amazons should not know about. I'm all ears."

"You are the epitome of charm and shrewdness, dear Ephiny, but hard! So hard!" He did however interrupt his theatrics and continued in a more businesslike voice: "This grave-robber have challenged my good name. I can give you his name, yes it's a him, and where to find him, but in return I need your permission to borrow something from the tomb and show it to him, before you do whatever you intend to do to him."

"Absolutely not!" Ephiny exclaimed at once. "It would be unthinkable to allow a Non-Amazon to disrupt a regal tomb, that's the whole point!"

"Who said anything about Non-Amazons?" Autolycus defended himself. "I don't mind at all if an Amazon goes with me and for a very short period and with all due reverence borrows some insignificant trinket from the grave, to be replaced shortly."

Ephiny inhaled sharply, but exhaled more slowly and let her eyes wander thoughtfully. "If that is the price we must pay to get to the grave-robber...but I need every Amazon to stay here in the village. Skirmishes with the Romans gets more and more frequent and bloodier. There are so few of us!" She frowned at him: "Will you force me to choose between the survival of my tribe and the honour of our ancestors?"

"Well," Autolycus began in some discomfort, before brightening up once more and snapping his finger. "There is one Amazon already living away from the village," he remarked.


Gabrielle watched the view in front of them in confusion. They stood atop one of the many small hills raising above the forest. The town ahead had been visited by them in the past, when they were fleeing the Horde. Its rectangular wall had protected the inhabitants before and was protecting them even now. A battle was raging outside the town. Black-armoured Scythians on horseback or on foot spun about, fighting the savage Horde wearing mostly war paint and bones. Slain warriors from both sides lay on the open field in front of the town walls. The townspeople were watching from atop the walls.

"Why are they fighting and why here?" Gabrielle asked in bewilderment.

Xena shrugged. She was observing the battle with a calculating look on her face.

"Look at that!" Joxer burst out. "They're pulling back."

And in fact, the battle was dying out. The Scythians rode away, while those on foot followed, running. The Horde roared victoriously and some began chasing those fleeing. But a tall Hordling, in yellow war-paint and a skull adorning his thick mane, went to stand before the town gate and shook his fanged wooden axe.

"You cowards! You low! We fight for you and us down here, you stand on house of stone!"

"Fancy that," Xena remarked. "Pilee has taught them Greek."

She mounted Argo and rode down towards the furious Horde Chieftain. He immediately spotted her and raised, along with several of his men, weapons for throwing or threatening. But even if Xena's leather armour had the same colour as the Scythian's, her bare head and largely unarmoured legs and arms set her apart from the Scythians. The Hordlings slowly lowered their weapons. When she approached the Chieftain, she swung her leg over Argo's head and jumped to the ground.

"Cirvik," she greeted him.

"Xena," he rumbled.

"What happened here?" she asked, indicating with a nod the battlefield where half of the Hordlings had begun tending to their fallen comrades, while the other half stood guard.

"Scythians come, we Pomira now Scythians evil, let them pass, attack. We drive them forward, to friends in house of stone, crush Scythians between two stones." He illustrated by slamming his fists together and continued: "No help from friends in house of stone. Only Pomira and Scythians. But Pomira strong, Pomira win."

"They're probably just regrouping," Joxer interjected, having just arrived and feeling superior due to Cirvik's poor Greek. When the Horde Chieftain in irritation stared at him with eyes wide open, he jumped backwards, nearly knocking Gabrielle over. This made him jump again.

"Did anything else come from the Northeast, apart from Scythians?" Xena asked.

Cirvik turned his gaze to Xena. She met it calmly. After a few moments Cirvik said: "Spirits are shrieking. Spirits over there are shrieking."

He turned abruptly and strode back to his men. Xena watched him go and had no answer when Gabrielle asked what he meant. Instead, she turned to the town and went up to the town gate and knocked: "Open up and let us in!"

A muttering was heard from atop the wall. Then a voice said: "It's all right, I know them."

"And who are you? Oh, well..."

The sound of a bar being lifted was heard and one half of the gate opened slightly. Xena grabbed it and flung it open, making the guard holding it stumble forward.

"Wait, the Horde might get in!"

"I thought you were friends now? Get out of my way."

Xena, Gabrielle, Argo and Joxer entered through the town gate. It shut behind them and the bar was replaced. The Horde seemed to pointedly ignore the whole thing. Once inside, the inhabitants were waiting with expressions ranging from hostility to friendliness. Eyebrow raised, Xena looked around. On the stairs from the wall a dark-cloaked figure was climbing down fast and agile. He reached ground level and pushed his way through the crowd.

" Autolycus," Xena said, smiling slightly.

"Gabrielle!" Autolycus exclaimed, removing the hood. Xena's smiled changed to a rare expression of puzzled hurt.

"Autolycus," Gabrielle greeted him with an uncertain glance towards Xena. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yes - hello, Xena - Gabrielle, there's one tiny little thing I was hoping you would be able to help me with..."


Ludus nodded, pleased with himself, and patted the content of the open sack. There were maces with their heads shaped like snarling carnivores, war mattocks with raptor-like beaks of steel, axes engraved with dancing griffins. Everything gleamed dully in the light of the open fire in the middle of the tent.

"Yup, this is the last. Everything is yours now."

The broad-shouldered shape in front of him was just a dark contour in front of the fire. Her head had a crest of some sort. When she spoke it was through ever-clenched teeth: "The weapons of the ancient Amazons. They look untouched by the long years in the earth."

"Never rusts, never breaks," said Ludus. "Just like in the fairy tales."

"And I will get paid for them and for everything else I found," Ludus continued quickly, as if repeating a line said very often.

"This in particular is most dear to me," the shape said and lifted a broad sword in brown metal into the light.

She manipulated the hilt in some manner and a click was heard, immediately followed by a sharp metallic clang when the blade split into three. The triple-bladed sword was turned slowly this way and that.

Ludus tensed and managed a nod. He started slightly when another click was heard and the three blades melded together, the following sound being much lighter. Ludus relaxed and made an audible sigh.

"I can show you the specifics of what each grave contained," he began, somewhat eager to please.

"No, you can't."

Ludus whimpered and let out a cough. He stared down at the brown blade, half buried in his abdomen. Then he looked up at the head now leaning into the firelight until it was mere inches from his face. It wore a helmet. The crest turned out to be a large horn, bent sharply backwards to follow the curvature of the back of the head. Two eyes opened wide was the only visible features of the face, because everything below the eyes all the way down below the chin was covered by a row of enormous fangs of steel.

When the clang sounded again it was muffled and mixed up with the sound of tearing flesh. The fangs of steel gleamed.


"So those Amazon graves he plundered was not Greek" Gabrielle asked just to make sure.

They were sitting at the town's only inn, all four of them. Argo was in the stable just outside.

"Precisely," Autolycus confirmed. "Evidently, there was Amazons all over the place in ancient times, Mesopotamia..."

"Turangi," Xena added gloomily.

"In the far northeast, yes." Autolycus hesitated for a moment and glanced inquiringly at Gabrielle, who smiled and shook her head, thus indicating that it was a long story. "Anyway," he resumed. "Ephiny told me that the various Amazon tribes had different specialities. The Turangian ones were powerful shamans, the Greek ones being proficient with all kinds of weapons, and these next to Scythia were said to be unsurpassed weaponsmiths."

"And I'm to follow you, witness you taking something out of a tomb and make sure you put it back," Gabrielle continued.

"Ephiny knows you'll do it for her," Autolycus said lightly. "And for me."

"Yes," Gabrielle answered with a strained smile. "But I do believe that was my line. Where is the grave-robber, by the way?"

Autolycus smiled broadly and waved a lifted index finger to and fro: "Ah, ah, ah. I will tell you only when you and I have visited the tombs."

"I'm coming with you," Xena said.

"Me too!" Joxer added.

"Okay," Autolycus continued. "Then I'll tell you when all four of us have visited the tombs."

"Fine," Xena concluded. "You go find somewhere to sleep and I'll meet you and the Scythians at the gates tomorrow morning."

Autolycus made a rewinding motion with his hand: "Us and..."

"...the Scythians?" Gabrielle interrupted.

"Yup," Xena nodded and stood." They just don't know it yet. Sweet dreams!"

Shortly thereafter she rode along a path. She scanned the ground, nodded, and spurred Argo to greater speed.

Twenty-five minutes later she reached the Scythians camp. Two mounted archers stood guard where the hills flattened unto a huge plain, and as she spotted them, she slowed Argo down to a trot. Fifty yards behind the archers were a cluster of Scythian tents.

She came quite close in the dusk before one of the archers put an arrow in front of her horse, calling out for her to stop. She halted and called back: "I want to speak to your chieftain. Now."

One of the Scythians turned his horse around and rode swiftly back to the tents, while the other one aimed his bow at her. With studied calm, she pulled her sword and began polishing it with a rag.

She did not need to wait for long before someone, probably the chieftain, came riding on the messenger's horse. The messenger himself, as well as half a dozen Scythians, ran alongside him. The chieftain, wearing a dark beard and several dagger on his chest, rode up to her and stopped: "I'm Gelon, chieftain of my tribe. And you look a lot like Xena who slew my predecessor Acestus and recently fought a patrol of mine."

Xena put her sword down in the scabbard and put the rag away. Then she said: "Greetings, Gelon. You seem to know me. Good."

"Do we have any reason not to kill you?" Gelon asked in a carefree voice.

"You mentioned a couple of them," she answered, smiling. "And besides, we're allies."

He raised his eyebrows and then frowned: "Are we?"

"Yes," she answered. "That is, if it's true you are running for your lives away from your homeland."

Instead of commenting that, he scratched his beard, considering.

"To be honest," Xena continued. "I didn't pick you just for the hell of it. You're plunderers and bandits but no one can say you're poor fighters. Your fleeing your homeland in fear of something approaching Greece means that we have a common enemy."

The Scythians grumbled and grabbed at their weapons, but Gelon just looked at her. Then he snorted and shrugged. "Come," he said, turning his horse to the tents.

In the narrow tent, Xena and Gelon sat on woolly furs, drinking something white and fermented from cow-horns. A brazier in gold radiated light and warmth.

"We have known them a long time, he began. They are called Sarmatians and lives to the northeast. They used to be fierce and warlike enough, but so were everyone else in those lands. Including us."

He smiled without much humour. "But a couple of years ago something happened. A Sarmatian chieftain, Amage, began uniting the tribes. Dark things were whispered about her. She was said to have spent some time with the black shamaness, Alti. She had taught her a secret."

Xena stared at him, but remained silent.

"She united the Sarmatians and began attacking the neighbouring peoples. The old balance of power had disappeared with the destruction of the Amazons. Now, it seemed that an alliance between Amage and Alti would conquer all."

"But Alti disappeared last year. And the Sarmatians halted."

He drank deeply from the horn before continuing: "Then, just a few months ago, it began. It was different this time. The Sarmatians spread like a fire in the grass. Everyone began to fear them."

"We Scythians now how to frighten people," he said with unabashed pride. "But we plunder to conquer and kill to defeat. The Sarmatians..."

" Whenever they approach a city, they begin by sending spies. The spies learn how people dress and act in the city. They then return to the Sarmatian camp. Next, saboteurs are sent, dressed as locals and careful not to be noticed as anything else. They destroy every escape-route from the city if at all possible. Meanwhile, the Sarmatians surround their prey. They move very fast, because they carry no supplies. How they manage that, I don't know. When a city is completely surrounded, Amage herself rides to the gate. She tells the inhabitants that the city is to be taken. Everything in it will be destroyed, and every living thing will be killed, men, women, children, animals, everything. The only ones who will be spared are those who assist the Sarmatians in the destruction and kill their own neighbours and relatives."

" Then they attack. And they fight with great strength, never tiring. Their weapons are unbreakable. They are impossible to defeat." He fell silent. The clicking of coals in the brazier was the only sound in the tent.

Then Xena said: "Gelon, no one is impossible to defeat. That goes for Sarmatians too, even if they are ruthless fighters with good weapons."

"Are you calling me a liar," Gelon snarled and leaned forward menacingly.

"No," she answered calmly. "That's why I'll see for myself. And I'll need some Scythians to take me to the areas where you last saw Sarmatians. But they'll have to be pretty good riders to be able to keep up. And I'll need to borrow a few horses for my friends."

He looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

" 'Good riders!?' A Scythian infant can outride any Greek any time!"

"Fine," Xena answered and stood.

"Hold it," Gelon said angrily. "What makes you think I'll give away Scythian horses?"

Xena fixed him with her gaze and said: "You have attacked my homeland. I give you one chance to be my ally instead of my enemy. I know you have plenty of riderless horses."

Gelon stared back, angry, but silent.


Awash in amber light from the rising sun, a group rode away from the town. Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer and Autolycus, and five Scythians.

Horde warriors gave them hostile but passive looks from the woods. They rode between forested hills, which eventually grew flat and barren as they approached the great plain.

"How come you cowed that Gelon character so easily?" Gabrielle asked Xena in a low voice, as they trotted along.

"He had good reason to believe that I would have killed him otherwise," Xena answered in a jolly tune. -

"Would you?" Gabrielle exclaimed with indignation.

"No. But the Scythians believe the best warrior to be the best leader. This decides every succession. So, Gelon assumed that a no from him would only get himself killed and the Scythians would then follow me anyway."

"Interesting logic," the long-eared Autolycus observed. "Good warrior - good leader. At least Joxer is proof of that..."

Joxer smiled with slow-witted pride.

Gabrielle ignored the interruption and said to Xena: "That sounds like curiously low self-esteem for a warlord."

"Not at all. He is obviously convinced that the Sarmatians can't be beaten. For the price of a couple of horses and a handful of soldiers, he gets rid of me, since he believes that every contact with Sarmatians is fatal."

"And you don't believe that."

"No way!"

But after a quick smile to Gabrielle, Xenas face grew stern, and they rode on in silence.

After having travelled all day, they had seen the cemetery far away as a black spot on the yellow-brown plain. As they cautiously approached, the spot had dissolved into a cluster of newly dug mounds of earth, casting long shadows in the evening sun. Oblong pits marked the graves positions, even if you could still see in places the yard high stelae with images of richly adorned warrior women carved and nearly eroded.

The Scythians halted, horrified, and would not enter the cemetery. Xena, Gabrielle and Autolycus dismounted and walked carefully in to the devastated resting place. Joxer stayed on his horse at the very edge of the cemetery, unable to decide whether the Scythians or the open graves were the most horrifying.

The digging had been rough. Skeletal parts lay strewn in the mounds or simply thrown aside to get to whatever had lain beneath them. Impressions of weapons and jewellery were clearly visible in the bared earth on the bottom of the graves. Gabrielle was close to tears, appalled by the lack of respect for the dead. Even Autolycus looked troubled. Xena glanced grimly at him: "Do what you came for."

Autolycus swallowed and smiled an unusually uncertain smile. He halted and put his hands to his sides and looked around.

Gabrielle closed her eyes and shook her head. Then she went to Xena. "We have to bury them," she said.

Xena nodded: "All right. I suppose it was to avoid things like this, the Amazons took up cremation."

Behind them, Autolycus approached, clearing his throat: "Well, Gabby, all the graves seems to be...emptied already. So, I can't in fact take anything. Anyway, if you two can vouch for me being here, I'm done."
He looked embarrassed in a rare, low-key fashion. "I will give you a hand with the, er, the restocking while I tell you of the grave-robber."

"Thanks," Gabrielle said in a husky voice. It was her turn to clear her throat. Then she continued: "But you can tell us of the grave-robber later. I don't think I want to hear about him right now."

"You look like the poisoner," the Scythian hissed. They had ridden closer to the graves, and thus closer to Joxer. And, they had begun expressing an unpleasant interest in him.

"No!" Joxer fervently denied. "No, no. You're thinking of my brother Jett. My twin brother, he's quite a killer. I'm not. I mean, I kill tonnes of people all day long, including Saturdays and Sundays every other week, but only in fair combat. Poison? Haha! Haha. Ha. Ah."

"Yes!" another Scythian barked. "I know you! You poisoned our food!"

"Oh, that. Eh, I mean no, no! I had nothing to do with that stew. It wasn't even a stew! I absolutely don't know what it was, since I was at a completely different place! Eh, er, Xena. Xena. Xena!"

Xena glanced at the group from which Joxer's voice was heard. She saw swords and knives coming loose in their scabbards.

"Xena!" Autolycus warned from the other side.

"Just a moment," she answered without taking her eyes from the group.

The chakram was suddenly in her raised hand and she sent it flying. While it bounced warningly on Scythian helmets, she turned her attention to Autolycus, who had stopped moving earth and was instead making eager signs with his thumb while blinking his eyes meaningfully.

"Visitors," he clarified and Xena saw a row of riders approaching from the east, just visible in the last reflected light of the vanished sun.

"On your horses!" she shouted and caught the returning chakram with the slightest possible glance.

Gabrielle looked quickly from Xena to the Scythians to the riders in the east, and back to Xena. Then she scampered to her borrowed horse. Autolycus was already there and gallantly tried to assist her, which she ignored. The Scythians were readjusting their helmets. Joxer, uncommonly alert by the recent danger, was staring with bulging eyes to the east.

Xena jumped up on Argo's saddle and looked hard at the approaching newcomers. They were twelve. The dusk made it hard to make out their armaments, but that they were armed was obvious, as was the fact that they wore helmets but no other metal armour.

"Back to the town!" she cried to her friends. "Ride!"

Gabrielle hesitated for a long moment, but then nodded and spurred on her horse. Autolycus came quickly up into the saddle, but was slightly slower in actually controlling the beast. Joxer opened his mouth and closed it again. He then proclaimed: "I'm staying by your side! I'm almost sure!"

"No!" Xena said sharply and continued with sudden inspiration: "You are needed to defend the town and your friends."

"Defend the town. And Gabby. Okay!"

With a sigh of relief she saw him begin to turn his horse around, apparently not an easy task. The Scythians were doing the same. Xena sneered at them: "That's right, you non-combatants keep out of the way. This is for grown-ups."

She began riding slowly to the east, making her way between the pits and mounds that were being harder to see every moment. She did not look back. There was no reason to believe that even Scythians would fall for so blatant provocations, when they had gone to such lengths to avoid this particular enemy.

The riders approached fast and began to spread out in a semi-circle, a more and more elongated 'U'. It was hard to know if it was a deliberate tactic or just a reluctance to enter the treacherous cemetery, replete with half-filled and un-filled graves and mounds of earth and debris. But either way, it made it harder for Xena to stop the enemy from getting past her. At least she assumed that they wanted to get past her. One wing she could stop, but hardly both wings at the same time.

In spite of her resolution not to, she glanced back over her shoulder, contemplating a complicated throw with her chakram, now in her left hand. But to her relief, the Scythians had not left. On the contrary, they had begun following her.

Xena had a few moments more to ponder the intent of the riders. Would they attack the cemetery, the Scythians, the Horde or the town? Behind her, a Scythian archer let an arrow fly. It was a good shot, hitting the first rider in the stomach, making him reel in the saddle. But as he slowed down, he was overtaken by the next rider who raised his long eagle-beaked mattock and smashed it into his back. The wounded rider went limp and rolled of his horse, while his deceitful comrade roared in joy and changed direction, heading straight for Xena and the Scythians, where they emerged from the cemetery. All the riders but one followed suit. But what worried Xena was the missing one, and when she spotted him riding past the graves, she flung her chakram to tear his throat open. When it returned, she automatically fastened it to her belt.

Then the riders were on them, led by the deceitful one, whirling his heavy two-handed war mattock like a toy made of balsa-wood. Xena dodge a couple of swift swings by the massive weapon. While still bending forward, she grasped her saddle and swung herself forward in a somersault that brought her heels heavily in contact with the mattock-swinger's left shoulder. That unbalanced him, as expected, and when Xena completed her somersault, standing on his shoulder and back-horned helmet, he fell heavily to the ground.

Xena crouched momentarily on his empty saddle, but before she had time to do anything, he was back on his feet with an explosion of force, and put his shoulder to the horse's flank, and brought it down on one side. Xena cart-wheeled out of the way and had awareness enough to grab a mace, sculpted in the likeness of a bear's paw, when a new enemy swung it at her. A quick yank, and its wearer fell to the ground, where Xena knocked him out with a kick to his head. She spun just in time to face the supernaturally strong man with the mattock, when he leapt over his fallen horse.

Xena swung her stolen mace and deflected the attack, which carried enough force to bury the beak deep in the ground. A kick to the cheek made the man stagger. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a third enemy jump from his horse and land atop the unconscious enemy. Standing on the chest of his comrade-in-arms, he wielded a metal spear and brought it down with the sound of a full bucket breaking. Xena thought she saw how the slayer's backward-bent helmet-horn very shortly glimmered in green. She could not be certain, however, because in that instant, the cheek-kicked enemy shook his head and began striking at her with his fists. Immediately, she caught one fist in her own, but when she began bending the hand in an increasingly painful angle to press the enemy down, she found him to be too strong for that. She made a face and slammed him with the bear's paw mace, making him fall to the side, upright only by the grip of her hand. She let go and he dropped unconscious to the ground.

Now she jumped up in a somersault to avoid being speared from behind, and she landed with her feet on the shaft, making the attacker drop the spear next to a stele. But instead of trying to retrieve his weapon or coming at her unarmed, he grabbed the yard-high stone pillar and lifted it like a thick but fully usable club. She parried it with her acquired weapon, but it's sharp claws caught in the eroded tombstone and she lost her grip. With the dull swishing of the stone immediately in front of her face, she let herself fall momentarily backwards, breaking the fall with her hand bent over her head, grabbing the metal spear. She continued with a backward somersault, ending it standing on one knee and sweeping the spear two-handed at the stonefighter's legs. Incredibly, he made a standing jump despite his overly heavy weapon. Xena came quickly to her feet. She sensed more than saw one Scythian after another falling before these terrible enemies who gained such strength from killing. She made a tactical retreat backwards a couple of steps to the edge of an unfilled grave, six feet deep. The light had diminished to the extent of erasing all colours, replacing them with dark greyish-blue.

Swinging the stone two-handed like a spongy, giant loaf of bread, the man leapt at her. She waited until she felt the spittle from his panting and then fell backwards. In triumph, he managed to stop himself just at the edge, and to secure his apparent victory, he raised the stele to hurl it down on the falling Warrior Princess. But in the fall, she twirled her spear so that it caught like a bridge over the grave, a bridge that enabled her to swing around and up into the air, where she kicked the man in the side with enough force to make him stagger and fall down into the grave.

When she landed, she was greeted by three eager opponents closing. One held a saw-bladed axe high, another waved a sword with the hilt formed a snarling panther's head, the third one holding a double-axe with the heads forming the wings of a bird. Further away in the darkness she could just make out more contours. They all wore helmets with back-curled horns.

"Indestructible weapons, is it?" she muttered.

Then, she shouted her undulating battle cry and somersaulted once again into the air. The warriors halted and half-turned, before realizing that she was not leaping forward, but slightly backward. She landed on the spear/bridge. It shook and wobbled and gave her extra propulsion when she jumped again. This time, the leap was indeed forward, but the enemies were confused enough not to manage successful attack when she came flying. The raised jagged axe was kicked out of its wearer's hand and landed with a rattle far away. Xena landed back to back with the swordsman and drew her elbows hard into his kidneys. Whimpering and swaybacked, he was momentarily stunned, and Xena could easily dance out of the way of the whining double-axe. Her dance turned into a leap away to where the jagged axe had landed.

A fourth enemy was dimly seen coming out of the darkness, but she had time to grab the axe and raise it two-handed to parry his flamberge sword. Like all remaining Sarmatians, whom she now assumed them all to be, he was inhumanly strong, and Xena did not even try to resist when he pressed her down, sword's edge on axe-shaft. Instead, she rolled backwards, kicking him on top of her, making him do an involuntary tumble. He landed heavily on his back and without taking the time to stand up, Xena turned her axe, making the edge face backwards and swinging it back over her head, so that the jagged edge burst the enemy's breastbone with a sharp crack.

They came at her from several directions and she yanked out the axe to swing it furiously at her enemies. The night was alive with sharp clangs and short spark-bursts where metal screeched against metal, giving ghostly snapshots of the battle in the dark. Otherwise, the combatants were just silhouettes against the stars, a circle of swiftly swinging and moaning men, among whom a woman leapt as if gravity was a rejected suggestion and fatigue something that happened to other people. The enemies were unnaturally strong, but not unnaturally agile, and Xena took the battle to parts of the cemetery, where she could take advantage of having seen the leaning stelae and sudden pits in daylight. The Sarmatians had not.

Now the moon arose, half, but still a potent illuminator of the closing moments of the battle. A sword-armed Sarmatian was the last surviving enemy. Stumbling, he tried to anticipate her dodging and leaping, while in turn parrying riposte after riposte. But the moonlight shone on Xena's smiling face, where sweat-moistened strands of hair clung like fine cracks on an ancient statue. Now she kicked hard against his sword hand and the blade went rotating away, while the Sarmatian fell headlong, completely unbalanced. The jagged axe fell onto the back of his head and cut straight through the horn. Its hardness was enough to turn the expected decapitation to a less bloody but equally fatal breaking of the neck.

But what made Xena take a step back and quickly raise the axe in defence, was the fountain of dim light erupting from the severed horn. Shapes like distorted faces was seen there, but even when she tried to focus on them, they became normal, lifelike, females and males, of whom she recognized at least one of the Scythians. But as quickly as it had begun ejecting spirits, the fountain sank back and the faces grew larger and thinner until they became one with the starry sky.

It had taken but a few moments.

Xena took a deep breath and threw the axe away. She picked up the sword carried by her opponent and glanced at the intricate ornaments of deer intertwined with serpents.

"Argo," she said aloud.

Out on the plain, she could make out a group of horses, probably Sarmatian as well as Scythian grazing peacefully side by side. And Argo. She formed her lips to whistle Argo to her side, but before any sound was made, she spotted a horse-drawn chariot approaching the cemetery fast.

Torches at the side trailed blue flames. The horses wore dark plumage. The pale face of the charioteer was clearly seen in the pale light of the moon and the torches, and Xena was not surprised that she had not noticed the chariot earlier.

"Well done," Hades remarked and halted his horses just at the cemetery border. "But you must not relax yet."

"I have no intention of doing that," she answered, smiling slightly but with narrowing eyes. "I like a full night out."

"I came to give you a lift," he continued. "Jump on."

Xena shook her head: "Argo will do just fine, thank you."

"Not for this. Could you, by the way, come a little closer so we won't have to shout?"

She went to him, but without hurrying. "I thought cemetaries was right up your alley."

He looked at her coldly for a moment before answering: "These Amazons were never mine. There are certain rules and customs to observe. But we are in a hurry. Tonight is you only opportunity to stop the enemy before she enters Greek territory. At dawn she will begin her attack on the Horde and that town your friends are in now."

Frowning, and with a glance at the horses, Xena reluctantly mounted the chariot.

Hades immediately turned it east, and got the black horses going. While they raced over the moonlit plain, he continued: "This really is Ares' responsibility, but for some reason he has left it to others to settle this before it gets out of hand. He might be an expert campaigner, but strategy basically equalls intelligence and it is more intelligent to fight an enemy outside your own lands than inside."

"Well, I can think of a reason or two why he acts like this," Xena answered, laconically.

"Yes, his obsession with getting you to join him or die. Anyway, I do have some advice for you. Firstly, like many other armies, this army is depending on its leader. Killing her would transform the Sarmatians from a deadly unit to manageable elements of anarchy, like those warlords you routinely dispatches. He got a grim look, but no other comment. - Secondly, the supernatural strength of her and her soldiers comes from the horns of their helmets. Destroy a horn diminishes the Sarmatian's strength to normal levels."

"You know," Xena remarked with a lazy voice. "You could've told me that a bit earlier."

"They get their powers from the dead," she continued. "Don't they?"

"Yes," Hades nodded. "When a wearer of such a helmet kills a human, the soul is sucked into the horn. There, it nourishes the wearer and also momentarily grants him superhuman strength. The soul can only be released when the horn is destroyed."


They were travelling the plain faster than any ordinary chariot. At the horizon a city of tents grove before them. Xena counted the fires and realized that they signified a substantial army. Suddenly she realized that it might well be even larger. Every ordinary army contains many other people in addition to the soldiers. Craftsmen, supply-staff, even families. But if these tents contained only Sarmatian warriors...

"Be ready," Hades said, and thundered in among the tents. Sarmatians tumbled headlong out of the way, horses tore loose and stampeded. The chariot was heading for a large, round tent in the middle of hte camp and Hades brought his chariot to halt immediately in front of it. A few brave Sarmatians approached the apparition, hesitantly, but they retreated before the gaze of the god of death.

Xena jumped off the chariot and glanced up at Hades: "Will you come and get me afterwards?"

"One way or another," Hades answered and turned his chariot around and disappeared.

Xena took advantage of the reigning mix of paralysis and cacaphonic confusion and tore the canvas aside and entered.

Inside, dead bodies lay everywhere. An open fire was lit in the middle of the tent. By the fire, a warrior stood, draped in a red mantle with dark brown shoulderplates. The fang-visored helmet covered the head, but some dark hair was visible below the rim of the helmet. She was facing the entrance with her head bowed, but looked up when Xena entered: "Xena?"

"Yes. Are you Amage?"

Amage nodded once, slowly, and took a step forward, still with the mantle held firmly draped about her. Her voice came through clenched teeth, but it was as if she always spoke like that, rather than an indication of any particular emotion, when she said: "I am Amage, and I have come to join you."

Xena stared at her: "What?"

"You are a legend, Xena. The Destroyer of Nations. Your campaigns range from Chin to Gaul."

With a sinking feeling, Xena shook her head: "That was a long time ago. If you are looking for that Xena, you won't find her."

"So you say. But I am not looking for the warlord. I am looking for the shamaness that defeated Alti."

Xena was silent. Amage came closer: "I too was Alti's disciple for a time. I plunged into her darkness and found the secret of the helmets of the Beast. But you killed Alti before I had the chance to learn more. I had opened the floodgates, but the power is to strong for me to use it in any other way than killing."

"So now you want my help," Xena answered in disbelief. "All right. You must destroy all the helmets, every single one, so the captive soul can be released. Then you must dedicate your life to help those weaker than you and defend them against evil. And you must cease to serve the darkness, forever. Can you do that?"

She had spoken in a tone of controlled aggression. Amage was silent for a while. Then, with a sweeping motion, she moved aside her mantle and slowly pulled out a long and broad sword.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked. "I thought you understood that by not helping me, you are dooming yourself and your homeland."

"Call me stupid," Xena snarled and grasped her Amazon blade with two hands.

Amage waved her sword slowly to and fro. "It is only a few minutes since my last kill. My strength is many times an ordinary man's. This is your last chance."

Xena nodded: "You're probably right."

The blades moved in a blur and interlocked with a metallic clang between the warrior women. Amage kicked towards Xena's abdomen, but Xena braced herself against the locked blades and jumped up in a somersault over her opponent. Amage whirled around and slashed with the sword in one hand, was parried, whirled the other way and got her second attack parried as well. Xena kicked at her side, forcing her to twist slightly, and kicked with her other leg against Amage's legs before she had time to recover. She fell. When Xena swept her sword down, Amage parried and the swords were once again locked, Xena leaning forward, Amage lying on the ground. Then the sideblades shot out with a bang from Amage's sword, turning it into a lethal fan. Xena's thigh got cut by one point and she leapt backwards, halting and grimacing. Amage jumped to her feet, now holding her sword in both hands. By constantly twisting the blade in her hands and slashing and stabbing wildly, she erected an aggressive wall of steel that forced Xena steadily backwards, parrying and dodging without managing a proper riposte.

After a cart-wheeling to the side, Xena had a moments respite, and yanked up her chakram, sending it tearing against the poles holding up the round tent. Amage leapt at her, transforming a sweep into a sudden stab by reversing her hand in the middle of the attack. Xena had no choice but to parry directly with her sword, jamming it between two spread blades. Amage turned it around with irresistible force and the sword went wobbling through the air, piercing the billowing tent wall. But Xena caught her returning chakram and used it to parry the next attack sequence. All around them, walls and ceiling was beginning to flap and bend after several supporting ropes had been severed. One triangular piece of ceiling-canvas whipped down into the flames and immediately caught fire, coruscating in the thermics like a huge burning tongue. Xena jumped suddenly forward, diving under the triple-blade and slamming into Amage's stomach with full force. Both fighters fell towards the fire and Amage's landing caused a shower of burning ash to erupt all around. But with a cry she leapt to her feet and with a kick sent Xena flying in a long arch, ending in the wall-canvas.

Amage strode rapidly forward, flashing her blade through the air. She did not seem to mind th smoke from her back where embers had stuck. A mighty sweep tore open a long portion of the rough canvas as if it had been paper, and Xena jumped aside. The next attack was a piercing attempt. Xena parried by raising her chakram, causing the central blade to slid all the way in until the three blades were firmly jammed in the circle. Amage tore at her sword and brought it with great force to the right. Xena danced along, holding the chakram firmly in place with both hands. Amage then yanked the sword to the left. Her mantel had caught fire at the shoulders and she screamed again, but continued to swing the sword this way and that, but unable to shake off Xena. Now they danced around in a full circle and the flames from Amage's back swung like strands of hair. Xena shouted her battle cry and kicked herself into the air so that for a single moment, she seemed to lie in the air, suspended only by the chakram and her momentum. Then she kicked with all her might at the horn of the helmet, and it tore free of Amage's head and went flying.

Xena turned her kick into a somersault and dislodged her chakram as she landed. Amage's face was eerily scarred, but the wounds were old. It looked like a row of talons had dragged over her face, leaving everything under the eyes a ploughed field of scar tissue. But her eyes were staring orbs and the maimed lips emitted a roar as she staggered, stunned. It seemed to Xena that the burning back, and now the burning hair as well, was as nothing compared to the pain caused by the loss of the helmet. Amage raised her sword and Xena her chakram, but the sword was not for her. With an exhalation more like a cough than a sigh, Amage pushed the sword into her own chest and sank to the ground, burning.

Xena walked out of the wildly burning tent, Amage's helmet in her bloody hands, bloody from the desperate grip on the razor sharp chakram. She held the horn in her left hand, the rest of the helmet in her right.

A group of Sarmatian warriors waited outside, tense but uncertain, weapons drawn. Xena dropped the remains of the helmet at her feet. Then she began to run. After a few steps, she had enough speed to leap into the air, tumbling over the group to land behind them. Before they had time to turn, she threw her chakram. It hit the first horn, severing it and releasing a cloud of souls. Then it continued to the next horned helmet, and the next. After five successive hits it returned to Xena's hand. The Sarmatians, frightened of the ghostly apparitions and maybe not fully aware of the true function of their helmets, were more interested in avoiding the paling spirits than in trying to attack Xena. She threw again. And again. The Sarmatians scattered. Warriors that came closer to see what was happening was also hit and a multitude of released souls were dancing triumphantly in the sky above the city of tents.

Hades arrived in his chariot, greeting Xena with a nod: "Once again, well done."

"What do you think you're doing?"

The new voice was thick with anger and belonged to Ares, materializing in a blue glow. He held his index finger lifted in accusation like a sword.

"Ares," Hades answered. "You are late."

"I had a plan, and you ruined it with your clumsy meddling!"

"Woaw!" exclaimed a golden cloud, condensing into Aphrodite who raised her shoulders, rubbed her hands and cooed like a pigeon. "Two gods quarreling over a woman, how romantique!"

"They'll have to settle this without me," Xena said, tired and not in the least amused.

"On the contrary," Hades said. "If my assumptions are correct, it is rather my nephew and Xena who will do the settling."

"Oh, Aphrodite said with a kissing pout. The two of you rivals over Hades. That is SO kinky!"

"Beat it bimbo! "Ares snarled.

"You misunderstand," Hades objected to Aphrodite, but the goddess of love replied immediately, glancing at Xena: "Two guys, one girl, what can't you misunderstand? Go one, I'm wide open to every little detail."

Xena shook her head and said impatiently: "You ask them! I've only saved your worshipers."
She turned her back on the three Olympians and began to walk away. But she glanced back briefly and added: "Take care of them."


Four people and one horse were walking the sunlit road. Then they halted at a crossroad.

"So, where are you bound?" Xena asked Autolycus.

"Well, we did find that Sarmatian in Ludus' clothes while he was undermining that bridge, so we assumed that Ludus was no more. I might add that the bloody tear in the abdominal area of the leather vest both in the front and in the back was an indicator of sorts. With all that sorted out, I'll be happy to accompany you to the Amazon village, thus ensuring that Ephiny gets a full recounting of my nobility and competence."

"Don't you trust my storytelling ability?" Gabrielle asked a shade teasingly.

"Gabby dear, I do indeed trust you to tell all kinds of stories. But sometimes, only cold facts will serve."

"I can come with you to the Amazons too," Joxer added.

"Hum," Gabrielle said with as much neutrality as possible.

They all took the right-hand road. Gabrielle purposely lagged behind Joxer and Autolycus to talk to Xena.

"Xena, I understand what you mean by saying that some enemies can't be reformed and simply must be destroyed. I'm not saying that Amage could've been turned to good. But I wonder where the line is? When does a human change from reformable to unreformable?"

"You're asking me?"

"You've been close to that line. If anyone, you should know."

The gravel rattled rhythmically beneath their feet and Argo's hooves. Grass waved in the wind at the roadside.

"Gabrielle, there is no line. You never can tell that doing this thing will doom you beyond redemption, but doing that will not. An unexpected light can lit the darkest corner."

She smiled at her friend.

"But even if there is such a line, we can't see it. We can only see what's happening, be aware of what we can do and try to imagine the consequences of our actions."

"Amage was like me. A warrior following Alti, becoming seduced by her darkness. To this day I can't tell you exactly why I didn't end up like Amage. Maybe it was Borias. But when I confronted Amage, I realized that there was nothing I could do to stop her from doing the only thing she was capable of, killing. Even when she failed to kill me, it remained her only alternative, and she killed herself."