"Something's Wicked, This Way Run"
Disclaimers:
Type: Post-FIN, flashback.
Violence: In the neighborhood of TV-14, I think (I'm stinky at guessing this stuff).
Language: In the "golly gee-whillikers, Wally" range.
Subtext: None. If you see any, lemme know.
Timeline: Still mangled.
Obligatory legal notices: The characters you've come to expect are, of course, under the unhallowed influences of MCA/Universal, and are veiled under the shadowing wings of their legion of undead corporate lawyers. There are also themes and images from Robert E. Howard/H.P. Lovecraft, but nothing solid enough to hang yer hat on, pardner. Portions were tested on unsuspecting office workers with minimal or no side effects. Do not remove tag under penalty of law. Vote your conscience.
Comments, feedback, and constructive criticism may be sent to TalosLBM@aol.com. Thank you.
As promised, everybody, here's yer "Harvest Festival"- themed story. (The word 'Hallowe'en' makes some idiots jumpy, 'cos they think I'm a Satan-worshipper or something. I wish those stupid suckers knew their own religion better. )
What had once been a great bonfire was now burned low, towering gouts of flame reduced to a pile of embers that glowed blood-red, like snake's eyes in the black of night. Isolated tongues of blue licked hungrily at the tag-ends of mopane wood that jutted from the mound of ashes, stirred by an intermittent cool breeze. The moon, two days from full, hung low in the sky like an orange-gold portal to another world, casting a burnished hue over the world. The stillness of the night air was broken by a woman's voice, thick with emotion.
"The young couple fled blindly into the forest, not caring what lay in their path, only wanting to get away from whatever it was that had rocked the chariot. It wasn't until morning, when they stopped to rest, that they saw the true horror of what might have happened." The intensity of her voice grew into a sense of panicked urgency. "For in the first rays of dawn, they could clearly see the mark, not of a hand, but of a metal hook."
The tense silence that followed was split by the mournful howl of a faraway wolf. When the howl faded, the quietness' only rival was the pop of burning wood and crackling snap of sparks floating up to join the moon.
"Well, what did you think?" Eve asked expectantly.
Gabrielle pursed her lips for a moment, thinking of the most diplomatic way to say this. "Good job setting the mood," she said finally. "You have a real flair for the dramatic, and I'd definitely give the wolf bonus points for the assist, but I heard that one when I was a little girl, and it wasn't really scary then. Nice try, though."
It was a hard road the two had travelled to get here, but they arrived with hours to spare, and had opted to spend their remaining time swapping stories. What better way to pass the time until the equinox arrived and All Souls' Night began? Given their mission, it was useless bravado, like whistling in a graveyard, but it distracted them, and that was the important thing. The Battling Bard and the Messenger of Light were on a mission, but patience was required now, not vigilance: nothing could happen before the moon was high.
"Neither of us is having any luck scaring the other," Eve commented sadly. "With all the adventures you and mother had, there must be something you know that would do the trick."
"Let's see," Gabrielle said thoughtfully, recounting her brushes with the supernatural. "You were with us when the gateway to Hell opened up in Amphipolis, the Bacchae have been done to death already, and I'd as soon not go into my family's affairs again, but I think there are one or two little tales I could dredge up."
Steepling her fingers, she stared absently into the fire's smoky remains, and rested her chin on her hands. After a minute's thought, she went on. "I'm not sure if this is what you mean. In retrospect, it's not that scary, but at the time, I sure thought we were both goners."
"All right," Eve said with a grin. "I'm game. Just don't dress up another one of those childhood ghost stories again."
"Oh, this is no ghost story. For one thing, it wasn't a dark and stormy night. This started in broad daylight, and in a desert, of all places. I've always hated the desert; never known any good to come out of going there, and that's just where this started: running in the desert. Running for our lives..."
~~~
Late afternoon sunshine slanted through a cloudless sky, blasting the lifeless desert. All around the shimmering rim of the mirage-laden horizon, sand and sand alone existed here, bordered by sun on one side, and death on the other. In the far distance of this arid sandscape, two tiny specks crested a dune and dipped into the adjoining ravine. Moments later, they topped the next dune and disappeared again. As they came over the third ridge of sand, the dots resolved into two women, streaming sweat, fleeing an unseen pursuer.
The Warrior Princess and the (at that time) Sidekick Bard had been playing a game of cat-and-mouse with a Roman patrol for two days now. Fame's unwelcome half-sister was notoriety, and Xena had a price on her head throughout Roman-controlled territories. Only hours before, the pair of Greeks had walked into the open end of a box canyon and run into more Legionnaires than either of them had ever seen in one place before. It was a masterpiece of understatement to say that the local garrison commander had grown tired of their presence; he had enough men on hand to tackle a Macedonian phalanx. The two women had chosen discretion as the better part of valor, and cowardice as the better part of discretion, taking to their heels and running like Hell itself was behind them.
"I think we lost them," Gabrielle managed to gasp out between wheezes.
A Roman pilum, the short throwing spear favored by Caesar's soldiers, whistled past, giving the lie to her statement.
"Wishful thinking," Xena spat, then pointed to the left. "That way; the ground's rockier, we may find a good place to lay low." It had taken her almost five minutes to gather enough spare wind to speak aloud.
Although the Warrior Princess was a consummate fighter and the young Bard's battle skills were improving, neither was a runner, and that was all they had done this afternoon. A heartbeat after they changed direction, a handful of arrows spattered into the sand behind them.
As they turned north, a vague smudge appeared on the horizon; a few dunes nearer and the smudge became a low rocky escarpment. The two women put on a burst of speed, hoping to reach the outcropping and whatever shelter it offered before the pursuing Romans detected their change in course.
Halfway to safety, both noticed it was too regular in outline to be a natural ridge. As they got closer, they could see that the living stone had been carved into battlements and fortifications, standing out in stark contrast against the cloudless sky. It was a city, which was much better than mere shelter. Cities meant walls and soldiers, and even if it was allied with Rome, civilization always had dark, shadowy corners to hide in. Most importantly, cities had water, something that was in short supply in a desert.
After a second jouncing look, Xena pulled up, skidding to a halt. Something didn't feel right here. There should be guards on the battlements, smoke from cooking fires, some indication of human life, but there wasn't. Gabrielle went two steps further before sliding to a stop in the loose sand. Favoring the stitch in her right side, she blurted a question in between gasps of air.
"Why-" Wheeze. "-are we stopping?" Pant, pant.
"Something's wrong," her tall companion replied, hair whipping in a sudden gust of hot wind. "There should be smoke, people moving around, animal smells, something. There's not even a bird in the sky."
"Even if it's deserted, there may be weapons or a siege engine or a barricade," the short Bard countered. "Anything would be helpful at this point."
"Yeah, you're right," Xena agreed. "Those goons will catch up sooner or later, and I'd rather have some cover to be behind when they do. Let's go."
The pair resumed their trot, though at a less frantic pace than before.
The city was well and truly deserted, and as they skirted the north wall, it wasn't hard to figure out why. The main gates had been wrenched from their sockets. The outer layer of hardwood had been crushed and splintered to fragments, and the surrounding stonework had been demolished. Gabrielle walked through the ruined entrance as Xena examined the damage with a practiced eye.
"There must have been a great siege here," she said in a subdued tone.
"What makes you say that?" the bard's question floated from inside.
"Look at the impact marks," she countered. "This wall took some huge hits. Those are massive stones, but they've been pounded to dust, and that front gate was worked over by a giant battering ram." The thought gave her a moment's pause. "But where did all the debris go?" she muttered, looking around.
"What?" Gabrielle asked, poking her head over the top of the battlements.
"The attackers must have catapulted some enormous missiles to cause this much damage to the walls, but where did they go? They didn't bother to clean up the rest of the mess, so their ammunition should still be here, but it isn't." Now that was puzzling. "Is there anything inside?" she asked. "Large stones, iron balls, anything like that?"
The Bard cast a quick glance around at the open courtyard and pulverized walls.
"No," she replied slowly, eyes fixing on the desert. "I don't see anything like that, but I do see our Roman friends. They must have found our trail; they're making a beeline here."
"I'm on my way up. Stay low so they don't see you."
Gabrielle had been right on the money, Xena saw, crouching down over a splintered crenellation. The approaching soldiers were moving cautiously, but they didn't waver left or right, instead heading directly for the ruined city. There were a lot more of them than she had seen at first glance. A normal patrol usually numbered ten or fifteen legionnaires, but Warrior and Bard were facing a full maniple, nearly sixty men. Unless one of the Greeks came up with something crafty, running or hiding were their only options.
"Let's go see the city," the Warrior Princess said tightly. "Those troops won't be here for a while; maybe we can set up a nasty surprise or two for them. You take the east side, I'll go around the west wall; we can meet at the south edge. Keep your eyes peeled, Gabrielle. I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this place."
The town was laid out in a flattened oval design. In the center was a towering edifice, presumably the king's palace, or other hub of civic authority. Nearest to the center were imposing, stately homes, which gave way to humbler dwellings closer to the outside edge. On the fringes, next to the wall, was a squalid slum. What had once been rows of mud brick huts had long ago dissolved into mounds of dirt.
The Bard hopped down from the low battlement and hustled around to the east side of town, avoiding loose debris and wreckage that was leaning haphazardly against the wall. Xena watched her go, marveling at the younger woman's resiliency. She had grown up so much since leaving home that it would be hard for her parents to recognize her. Not everything they had experienced together had been pleasant; in fact, a great deal of it had been unpleasant, and the hardened warrior wished she could have spared her travelling companion those bitter days, but the young Bard appeared none the worse for wear. Shaking her head, the Warrior Princess of Amphipolis chased away those idle thoughts, concentrating on the problem at hand.
Gabrielle was having precious little success with her search. It wasn't that the city had been damaged or rendered inhospitable, it was simply deserted. Personal belongings, buildings, the ten thousand tiny articles people needed in their daily lives were still here, only the citizens were missing. Aside from the front gate, there were no signs of struggle, nothing was torn up, everything seemed to be in perfect, if empty, order.
There were obvious signs that the inhabitants had been absent for some time. Any foodstuffs she encountered were dried-out and desiccated: they could have been here for weeks or millennia, there was no way to tell. Reminding herself that time was short before the Romans arrived, she was about to head for the rendezvous point at the south wall when she encountered the first signs of violence she had seen thus far.
Right at the dividing line between the civic center and some of the nicer homes was a smallish building whose rich appointments and solid construction declared it to be a place of some importance. The outer facade showed damage similar to that on the city's gate, and these doors had also been torn out by the roots.
Dust and sand formed a gritty carpet crunching under her feet as the young woman entered the opening that had once been a grand gateway. The interior, although shabby now, must have at one time been gloriously beautiful. Stately columns, draped in between with purple linen, supported the roof; the floor was constructed of large blocks of swirled green marble; the furnishings, which appeared to be untouched, were mostly of gold and ebony. On the lintel over the entrance were carved several lines in an angular script, the only writing she had seen thus far.
Away from the fading light of day, the interior was gloomy and breathlessly still. Gabrielle was filled with a sense of menace, a feeling that impending danger was lurking unseen just around the corner. At any other time, she would have written the feeling off as a bad case of nerves, but there was a compelling undercurrent telling her to get away from here at all costs.
Nervously backing out of the ill-lit room, she bumped into an elaborate candelabrum, knocking it to the marble floor with a ringing crash. Already wound up tight, the racket was more than she was prepared to take, and she sprinted out of the building, back into the street. In spite of her foreboding feelings, Xena needed to see this. Not only did it have the only writing she had found, it also had the only damage she'd seen as well. Maybe it was just nerves, she thought hopefully, loping off to the south wall.
Deep within the darkness, something stirred, stretching tendrils that had lain dormant for many ages of men.
At the south wall, Xena was impatiently waiting for her companion to show up. Her search of the west side of town had been a complete bust. There were no weapons, no usable food, and even worse yet, no water, either. The pair could ration what little food they had, but without water, they would die trying to cross the desert. The only bright note was that the fortifications were still in good condition. There were enormous iron vats hanging on tripods atop the battlements, ready to be filled with hot oil, perfect for pouring all over your enemy. Numerous deadfalls had been rigged at key points along the walls, immense blocks of stone suspended by chains, ready to be dropped into place should the walls be breached. Whoever had designed the defenses really knew their stuff.
If the gates were in good condition, I could hold this place indefinitely.
Yeah, and if I had wings, I could fly to Olympus and ask for help.
Brooding wasn't going to help matters any, but it was all she had left to do while waiting for Gabrielle. Where IS that girl? she thought, squinting into the sun. This is no time to dally; those soldiers could be here any moment. The tall woman was on the verge of going to look for the Bard, when she suddenly appeared around a corner, nervously glancing over her shoulder.
"Any luck?" Gabrielle asked tightly.
"None. You?"
"Some," she answered. "But mostly bad, I think. You'd better come take a look."
"What is it?" Xena asked, on edge for trouble.
"I'm not sure, but I don't like it. It feels important, though."
"Well, let's take a look," the warrior woman said, feigning confidence. Gabrielle was obviously rattled by what she had found, and wasting a few more moments wouldn't matter much one way or the other. If worst came to worst and the Romans got too close inside the city, they could still scoot across the west wall and escape into the desert, no worse off than they had been before.
"What do you make of it?" the Warrior Princess asked the Bard as they looked at the writing on the wall. The sun had gone below the battlements and very soon now, would begin to set. In the low light, the shadows grew longer, making reading doubly difficult.
"Hard to tell," Gabrielle said, suppressing a shiver. The sensation of uneasiness was getting stronger with every moment; she had the feeling that if it wasn't resolved soon, she might burst. "The symbols themselves are Phoenician, but the words don't make any sense: it's all garbled gibberish." She rattled off a string of tongue-twisting vocals that meant nothing to her.
"Hey!" Xena interjected. "I know that; it's Amharic. The settlers nearer the coast speak it."
"Well, why didn't you say something?" her cohort snapped. "Here I am wasting my time..."
"No, no," the dark-haired woman said soothingly. "I can only speak it, not read it. Keep it up; I'll translate as you go."
Flashing another dirty look at her companion, the Bard cleared her throat and launched into the alien syntax again, immediately followed by the Greek rendition.
At the last word, Xena paled visibly. "We have to get out of here... NOW," she said abruptly, grasping her friend's arm.
"But... but what's the matter?" Gabrielle asked, temporarily forgetting her own desire to get out of town.
"This is Sarnath," the Warrior Princess said urgently. "Sarnath the Damned. This city is cursed," she answered, hustling the younger woman outside, "and I mean 'cursed' with a capitol 'C'. Now move!"
"The Romans--" Gabrielle began, when she was rudely cut off.
"We've got bigger problems," Xena shot back.
"No... I mean 'The Romans!'" she finished, pointing down the street, where a half-dozen soldiers were milling about. The two groups of potential combatants spotted each other at the same time, and with a shout, the Legionnaires broke into a run, unlimbering weapons as they went.
The sun chose that particular moment to begin setting, highlighting the palace with a golden-orange glow that provided an odd backdrop for the brief combat that ensued. Over the din and clash of arms, no one noticed the low-pitched harmonic rumble that shook the ground as the sun passed below the horizon, surrendering the city to night's embrace.
The Warrior Princess was living up to her name. She waded in to the group of soldiers, chakram in one hand, sword in the other. In a heartbeat, she had dispatched two of them to their version of the afterlife and was eyeing the rest to see how much fight they had left after a day's run.
"Stay back, Gabrielle," she barked in a cautionary tone, swinging her broadsword in a side-to-side clearing motion, forcing the survivors to back away.
Unnoticed by all the combatants, Gabrielle was rooted in place, staring into the open portal of the building they had just vacated. A hint of movement caught her eye, a flash of red from the room's depths. She squinted harder in the gathering gloom, trying desperately to see what she hoped she hadn't just glimpsed. Something was moving in the darkness of the building; a something that wasn't Roman, or even vaguely human; a something that generated dread the way a corpse produced flies.
"Uuuh, Xena... about that curse; just what was it?," she asked.
"This is no time for a discussion," came the hissed reply.
"Then don't talk. RUN!," the short woman yelled, grabbing her friend's arm and tugging desperately in the direction of the city's gates.
At that moment, a solid, tangible wall of darkness rolled out of the shattered archway. It wasn't liquid, and it wasn't vapor, but it had the characteristics of both, moving with blinding speed. The blackness swallowed the nearest Legionnaire, and everyone could hear his screams, echoed by the popping snap of bones breaking.
Before anyone else could move, the Warrior Princess shrugged off the Bard's grasp and sent her chakram screaming through the air. She wasn't sure what effect it would have, but she hoped for the best. The whirling weapon whooshed through the obsidian mass and spanged the wall with a shower of sparks, returning through the cloud's center on its way back. The flying disc didn't slow a whit, showing no more effect than if it had flown in empty air. Eyes widening in astonishment, she snatched the chakram out of the air, and grabbed a fistful of Gabrielle's top, getting ready to bolt for safety.
The blackness shifted slightly, and what remained of the enveloped man hit the ground with a boneless, liquid splat. An instant later, the other soldiers snapped about to face this new threat, hacking vainly at it with sword and spear. If the dark form felt any effects from their attack, it gave no sign.
The Warrior and the Bard didn't wait to see the outcome: they ran. Fast.
Fresh screams rang out as the pair scurried up the street, taking the next turn, not caring where they were headed, so long as it was farther away from that thing than they were now. After half a block, their frantic pace started to slow as the agonized yells lessened.
"Where did it go?" Gabrielle asked nervously, not really wanting to know unless the answer was 'far away'.
Without warning, the roiling black miasma screamed around the corner they had just vacated.
"Faster!" Xena huffed. The dark cloud was moving with the speed of a cyclone, rapidly closing the gap. In seconds it would be upon them. "Over there!" she gasped, pointing across the street at an elaborately decorated building. "The one with the fancy portico. MOVE!"
Gabrielle scrambled across the street with Xena a step behind. The young woman stumbled on the top step, colliding with her friend. Both went sprawling, sliding several feet across a highly polished granite floor from sheer momentum.
The whirling phantasm pulled up short at the steps, flattening along one side as though encountering an invisible barrier. It spread across the width of the top step, tendrils tentatively reaching outward, exploring.
"Why did it stop?" the Bard panted breathlessly.
"This is a temple," Xena replied between gasps, gesturing at a silver seal inlaid in the granite floor. "Ishtar, I think. Either it has no power here, or it isn't willing to cross the goddess on her own sacred ground."
They were safe for the moment, but that could change at any time; supernatural beings were rarely respecters of 'the rules'.
"When did you get to be so fast?" the older woman asked with a wry grin.
The Bard collapsed backward in a nerveless heap. "Must've caught my second wind. I swear, when we get out of this, I'm going to sleep for a week," she said morosely.
"Don't get too comfortable yet," the Warrior replied evilly. "I don't think that thing will hang around too long, and the seal of Ishtar won't stop the Romans.
"The Romans. I'd almost forgotten about them." What little resolve the young Greek had retained collapsed abruptly. "I assume you're already working on a plan to get us out of this mess?"
"Count on it," Xena said with a grin. She was working hard to put on a brave front, but while the situation wasn't hopeless, it was the next worst thing. Their supplies were running low, the Romans hadn't shown any signs of budging, and she had the sinking feeling that mortal weapons weren't going to be effective against the misty monster. Her chakram, a weapon that had made the stoutest mortal hearts quail in fear, had been about as effective as a limp noodle. As if it could hear her thoughts, the dark cloud began a chilling, keening moan that set their teeth on edge.
Steeling herself against the racket the beast was raising, Gabrielle sat up and looked at her companion with a puzzled expression. "So how is it you've heard of Sarnath, but I, the Master-Bard-In-Training, never has?"
The older woman was nonplussed by the rapid change of topic, recognizing it for the defense mechanism it was. "Well, I'm not sure how you've never heard of it, but I can remedy that right now."
"That would be something different; you telling me stories," Gabrielle said with a grin.
"Sarnath," the Warrior Princess began, "is one of the most ancient cities of men. No one knows when it was built, or even what race first lived here, but it's incredibly old. Centuries ago, before civilization arose in the Peloponnese, a man of great power lived here; some called him necromancer, some apothecary, but none knew the limits of his might. In the course of his travels, he discovered a dark cavern in a distant land, and there he stole an enormous ruby called the Fire of Asshurbanipal from a sleeping demon. When he returned home, the lord of Sarnath imprisoned and tortured him to gain the gem. The man died, and with his last breath, he brought a curse down upon both king and city, summoning the sleeping demon and setting him loose on the citizenry."
"This is Kara-Shehr?" Gabrielle blurted, eyes wide. "We're in the Black City?" That thought obviously didn't sit well with the young woman. "We have to get away from here," she said hugging her knees to her chest and shivering violently.
Xena's mind was working furiously. When they had arrived at the city gates, her two possible options had been hide or flee. That hadn't changed, but the demon complicated matters. She and Gabrielle could dodge soldiers or demons, but not both. Unless...
If demon and soldiers were otherwise occupied... that would open up other possibilities. Volcanic blue eyes flashing in the dimming twilight, she got to her feet. "This place has a second story; let's go take a look. I want to see what's happening outside."
"Deal," the Bard said with a relieved sigh, glad to be doing something other than thinking too much. "I just wish that stupid thing would SHUT UP!" she finished, flinging the comment at the still-shrieking cloud like a weapon.
"Is there any way to get rid of the demon?" the short girl asked helpfully as they trudged up dank, dusty stairs. "You know, end the curse, find the gem, bury the wizard, something like that."
"I already thought of that," Xena said, "but none of the stories I've heard mentioned anything along those lines. All the versions I'm familiar with say that the city was either abandoned, or the population killed in a single night. Of course, they also said the city was buried beneath the desert, so I don't know how much trust to put in them. Legends. Hmph." Disgust was written all over her dusty face.
"We're legends too, aren't we?" Gabrielle asked with a bright grin.
"Damn right we are." The older woman was glad she could joke at a time like this.
The evening air was already noticeably cooler as they left the narrow stairwell and emerged on the roof. Long ago, there had been an awning to offer shelter from the sun, but it had since decayed, and all that remained now was the skeletal framework and a few shreds of faded cloth. The moon was rising, a sliver no bigger than a fingernail paring, a narrow line of argent slicing the night sky with a wholesome cleanness than was a welcome counterpoint to the evil rampaging below. Despite its smallness, it was enough to cast a silvery glow over the town, and be a reminder of happier times, when Luna had shown down on them in healthier climes.
The hellish din echoing up from the street changed in timbre, diminishing to a whisper. Motioning to the Bard to stay out of sight, the Warrior Princess walked to the building's front, crouching low and peeking over the edge. The rolling miasma seemed confused, moving slowly back and forth along the temple wall.
"What's it doing?" Gabrielle stage-whispered from the stairwell. Xena had drawn a breath to answer, when she saw a movement at the far end of the street. There was another platoon-sized group of Romans, crossing and re-crossing the broad avenue from house to house.
"There goes the neighborhood," she whispered under her breath, then motioned for Gabrielle to go back down the stairs. The tall Greek was relieved to see her protégé comply with no discussion. While the young Bard's occasional reluctance to follow instructions was endearing and a vital part of her personal growth, this was no time to test the waters of independence. She hustled back across the roof and down the stairs.
"What happened?"
"It didn't know where we went, so I think it got bored and left," she replied with a wry grin. "For a demon, it's not too bright. Now here's the plan: There's another patrol coming up the street toward us. I'm guessing the Roman commander split his troops up into small units and is having them search the town for us. Any minute now, that thing will see them, and hopefully go after them, instead of wait for us. The second that happens, I want you to run as fast as you can to the city gate. The curse may not extend outside the city's walls, so I'm hoping we'll be safe in the desert. That will leave the Romans here in the city with plenty of room to run, and something worth running from."
"I couldn't help but notice a number of conditional terms just now," the young Bard said warily. "You mentioned 'guessing', 'hoping', 'may not'. There's no guarantee, is there?"
"None."
"We don't have any water," Gabrielle pointed out brightly. "We'll never make it in the desert."
"There's no water here, either," Xena reminded the younger woman. "But there IS a big nasty black cloud that kills people for kicks. If we stay here, it's a toss-up whether the Romans or the demon gets us first. Now get ready."
Both women stretched their legs, getting ready to run for their lives for the second time in one day.
"You know, this is very un-Warrior-Princess-like of you," the Bard said with a smile. "You hate to run away. Usually, you cook up some hare-brained scheme that's both creative and improbably successful."
"I just didn't have anything to work with this time," Xena said with a sigh, shrugging. "My reputation will suffer, no doubt; the myth of Xenic Infallibility is done for. If I'd even had a wheelbarrow to work with, that would have been something."
"If we get out of this in one piece, I promise I'll-"
"Don't."
"We could always try the flying parchment--" Gabrielle began hopefully.
"No."
Screams erupted at the far end of the street.
"RUN!" the warrior woman shouted.
It may have been the brief interval of rest they had gained, or repeatedly being in fear for her life, but for once, Gabrielle outstripped Xena, leaving the Warrior Princess behind in a cloud of dust. As she rounded the corner, Xena risked a glance at the Roman patrol, just in time to see the last Legionnaire fall in a nerveless heap. It may have been their movement, or some inborn instinct the creature had, but the demon instantly headed in the direction of the rapidly retreating women, rumbling and groaning as it came.
The street that Warrior and Bard were running down was one of the connecting spokes radiating out from the city's center. Blazing around the corner fast enough to kick up a rooster-tail of dirt, they ran north to the gates, following the inside curve of the battlements. A harmonic vibration in the ground grew closer and closer, providing an audible reminder that the murderous black cloud was quickly closing the gap. Both women were running as fast as they ever had in their lives, but it was plainly obvious they weren't going to make the main gate before the whirling mist caught up; it was practically nipping at their heels now. Xena's eyes whipped around, searching for something, anything that might buy them a few extra moments.
A few dozens yards ahead, and high above, one of the large deadfalls twisted slightly in the cool night breeze, catching her attention. That just might do, she thought with an evil smile.
She plucked the chakram from her hip and tossed it on the fly, not breaking stride. The arcane weapon screamed through the air, severing the thick suspension chain with a shower of sparks. Ancient iron pulleys squealed in protest, performing their designed function long centuries after their makers had gone to dust. Tons of rock crashed to the earth a scant few paces behind the running women, shattering paving stones, raising a thick dust cloud, and buffeting them with wind and gritty debris as Xena snagged the chakram out of the air and returned it to her belt. Gabrielle started to look back, but the panting Warrior Princess gave her an ungentle shove forward, reminding her that this was a time for running, not gawking.
A heartbeat later, one of questions that had nagged at her subconscious was answered. Since entering the ruined city, her mind had kept coming back to the sheer scale of carnage inflicted on the damaged walls and demolished gates, and how they had been obliterated so completely.
As the stone smashed into the ground, the boiling cloud took solid shape, forming a perfect sphere that rammed the block with an enormous impact. The dense mass of granite shattered like a dropped glass, scattering fragments in all directions. It slowed for only a moment, but that was enough to let the fleeing women pull ahead again. Only two more city blocks separated them from freedom; within a minute, they would either be loose, or dead.
Rounding the last corner, the gateway hove into view, and the Warrior Princess felt like cursing out loud. The remaining Legionnaires had assembled in the open courtyard, and were milling around in confusion. Some had heard the low moaning the cloud was making, and were looking around, trying to locate its source, while many simply milled about in confusion.
"Don't stop, Gabrielle!" she shouted. "I want you to run right through them!"
To her credit, the young Bard didn't slow for a second. Xena was right behind her, charging into the mass of startled soldiers, screaming like a banshee from Hell. Actually, the banshee from Hell was about ten steps behind them.
The Romans were caught flat-footed, suddenly seeing two wild-eyed, screaming women bearing down on them, immediately followed by the most horrific maelstrom of evil any of them would ever see in the remainder of their short lives.
A shouted order from their commander galvanized them into action. They immediately lined up in an attack formation, and wheeled to do combat with the approaching creature, a testament to the iron discipline instilled in Caesar's troops. Against any mortal foe, their attack wedge would have been devastating, but the demon was unimpressed. It tore into the mass of humanity, slaughtering wholesale and flinging bodies about like leaves in a tempest as the Warrior and the Bard scampered out into the desert and safety.
Xena and Gabrielle blew past the archway marking the extent of the demon's range and kept right on running. Both felt an urge to stop and draw a relieved breath.
That urge was immediately squashed, as they ran into the night.
~~~
The Son of the Outer Darkness crouched atop the crumbling gate lintel and watched the pair of women run across the desert in the moonlight. For a moment, He considered chasing them some more, but He was really a very lazy demon at heart and He had had enough fun for the time being. His vaporous shape began to coalesce into solid form. He had finished hunting; now it was time to eat, and in order to eat, he needed a physical body. Idly munching on what had once been a Roman Legionnaire's lower leg, He sat on the ruined archway, His naked rat's tail partially obscuring the writing on the reverse side, an ancient message to travellers departing the fair city of Sarnath.
"HAVE A NICE DAY"
~~~
"Wow, I can't believe I've never heard that one before," Eve said.
"Well, it's not really the kind of story you want getting out. I mean, it's not exactly flattering," Gabrielle replied with a grin. "Your mother hated running from a fight and I hated being afraid for my life, so we decided that this one should never see the light of day again."
"Good call."
~~~
Quite a bit of time had passed while the Bard was telling the tale, and the moon had risen high in the sky, trading her aura of burnished gold for the pure, silvery hue that was her normal color.
"Are you ready?" Eve asked nervously.
Gabrielle nodded assent, and wordlessly they began piling fresh wood on the ashy embers of their fire. The dry wood cracked and spit, then caught and began burning brightly, casting dancing shadows around the edge of the clearing they crouched in.
"Will this work?" Eve asked uncertainly, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. The dark-haired woman's hopes had been raised and dashed many times over the last year, and she didn't want to experience the bitter disappointment of failure again.
"I don't know," the Bard replied. Blond hair flashed whitely in the orange glow of the fire as she shook her head. The young Greek had come across references in Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic Wars, and again in Herodotus' Geographica that had hinted at rites performed by the northmen, dark ceremonies that could blur the lines between realities. "I've seen the Kelts do this, but I've never tried it myself."
"What's it called again?"
"Sam.... Sam-something," Gabrielle replied uncertainly. "I really don't recall."
Both women stared into the fire for a moment before Gabrielle spoke again, voice sinking to a whisper.
"Think back and remember," she urged in a gentle tone. "Don't think about anything else, just focus your mind and visualize, just like we talked about. Above all, don't let your mind wander. The Kelts can do this because they're close to home; close to their center. We're about to open a gate, hopefully for our purposes, but there are no guarantees what will come through. The best way to avoid complications is to concentrate on one thing and one thing only."
A cold breeze blew down the slopes of Mt. Fuji, twisting smoke away in a snaky trail and sucking sparks into the air. Both women had left home, re-crossing the known world, staking everything on this moment. The waters of the Fountain of Strength burbled quietly on their way downhill, seeking out lower elevations. The quiet susurration, normally so soothing to Gabrielle and Eve, was lost in the background as they bent all their will to a single purpose. Anything they did, whether for good or for ill, would be undone at the sun's first light. If it was for ill, hopefully they could contain it until then; if for good, then their parting would likely be brief and bitter.
On the other side of the world, strange men were preparing a bonfire, readying for a feast and celebration that marked the end of the last year and the passing of their loved ones. At the moment of the old year's death, this world and the Otherworld would merge; all boundaries were removed, no barriers would exist between the dead and the living.
Gabrielle and Eve were performing ceremonies of their own, seeking after the one soul who had been so dear both of them, the one who had already passed on, carrying a small piece of both women to the grave. They reached out into the beyond, stretching their minds farther than either had believed possible.
A low, grey mist appeared, seemingly seeping up through the earth. It was subject neither to the wind nor the fire, for it hung low to the ground, unmoved by both the icy breeze and the hot air stirred by the flames. It grew, first to roughly man-shaped proportions, and then larger, spreading toward the fire in blatant defiance of common sense. The wind suddenly hammered at them, pelting both women with leaves and debris.
"Gabrielle," Eve said in a warning tone, grasping the shorter woman's arm. "What did we do? Is this what's supposed to happen?"
"I... I don't know," the Bard stammered. "I've never seen it happen this way... something's wrong."
The wind blasted the clearing, bowling over smaller trees and making the bonfire, howling all the time like an enraged animal. Then, it ceased, as suddenly as if someone had thrown a switch. A feeling of tense expectancy hung heavy in the air. The hearts of both young women filled with dread; neither had the least idea what to expect.
"Oh, Abba, what have we done?" Eve asked under her breath, starting to panic.
"We shouldn't have come here," Gabrielle said in a guilt-ridden tone, hanging her head in shame. "This is all my fault."
"Yes.... it is," came a hollow, sepulchral voice rolling out of the misty cloud. A wave of arctic cold flowed under the voice, the bone-deep chill of the empty dark spaces between stars. Terror washed over the onlookers in mighty waves. "Without you, this would not have been possible. Without you, I would never have been able to do what I have done. Without you, I would never..." The voice hesitated, searching for words. "...would never have been able to see my daughter again," it finished warmly.
Xena, the long-dead Warrior Princess of Amphipolis, stepped out of the mist, and walked toward the fire. Eve was ashen-faced, staring wide-eyed at the new arrival.
"Mother, is that really you?" she asked in astonishment, looking like she was, quite literally, seeing a ghost. Still unable to believe her eyes, she raised a hand toward her mother's shade and took a tentative step forward. Speechless and unable to answer, Xena only nodded, eyes welling up with tears as she embraced her daughter.
"Mother, I... I wanted to... I..." Eve stammered, trying to put a coherent thought together as her facade of strength crumbled.
"It's alright," the Warrior Princess finally managed, wiping her eyes and caressing her child's cheek. "You don't have to say a thing." Eve buried her face in her mother's breast, holding her tightly, afraid this was all an illusion. Xena looked beyond Eve, and saw Gabrielle still standing by the fire, several feet away, giving them space. Lip quivering, the Bard smiled a gentle smile, a look that only the Warrior Princess brought out in her.
"She never got the chance to say goodbye," Gabrielle said by way of explanation, fighting back a sudden rush of tears.
"I cannot begin to thank you," Xena said, voice thick with emotion, softly cradling Eve's head. A stream of tears ran down her face, while love and sadness warred in her eyes as she looked at her best friend. "I don't have the words."
Gabrielle stepped closer and hugged Eve and Xena, feeling the closeness of the two people she cared most about in this life.
And for just a moment, all was perfect in her world.
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Xena: Warrior Princess is a trademark of Universal TV Distribution Holdings LLC and a copyright of Universal Television Enterprises LLLP. Licensed by Universal Studios Licensing LLLP. All Rights Reserved. © 2004 DAVIS•ANDERSON MERCHANDISING CORP