By Phineas Redux
Contact:— phineasredux003@gmail.com
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Summary:— A classic ‘Xena, Warrior Princess’ story. The Norse Goddess Freya seeks the help of Xena and Gabrielle in recovering her stolen magical necklace ‘Brisingamen’.
Disclaimer:— MCA/Universal/RenPics, and/or others, own all copyrights to everything related to ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ and I have no rights to them.
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Prologue
The snekkja, or small Viking longboat, ran slowly across the smooth surface of the head reaches of Songefjord leaving a sharply defined wake on the calm waters, huge barren mountains rising directly from the cold waters on either hand. Relatively speaking the longboat was a smaller example of its type, there only being 30 rowers, fifteen on each side; it had a sharp prow, a lean body running back to a rounded stern which was, with the first ten feet of the bow, planked over to give a form of decking. On the stern the Captain stood in solitary splendour, long hair streaming in the slight breeze, chest length beard making him look more like a stray bear from the steppes than anything else. On the bow, however, the two warrior women stood proud and resolute, mistresses of their surroundings.
“So, wha’d’ya think, Xena.” Gabrielle, dressed in a long fur coat of alternating deerskin and white rabbit fur covering her usual short skirt and top, leaned her hand on the low bulwark. “Are we close? Already we’re way up the longest bay I’ve ever been in, and surrounded on all sides by huge mountains. Are these here the lands of the Norse Gods?”
“Yep.”
“Gods’, woman, I wish you’d be more informative.” The blonde Amazon blew a white cloud of mist from her cold lips, watching it waft away behind her like a puff of smoke. “It’s freezin’ round here; the mountains, as you see, are bare unclimbable rock covered in snowfields; and the ground’s as barren as a desert. Hades, there’s hardly even a bird in the sky. We must be all of sixty or more parasangs from the sea by now, yet you insisted on bringing this longboat all the way up here. You really sure Freya’s Temple’s located in this region?”
“Don’t worry, dearie.” The Princess, enfolded in a long dark fur coat, back sword sheath strapped to the outside, with her usual disregard for sharing what she thought was important, had assumed from the voyage’s start an impassive face worthy of the Sphinx herself. “I won’t say I’ve been in this particular spot before—”
“Oh, that’s a first.”
“—but I’ve been close—”
“Ha!”
“—close enough to know the layout of the land.” The black-haired warrior nodded confidently, long stray locks blowing across her face in the breeze. “We’re on track. The Temple shouldn’t be more than another parasang or so. See how the shores are tightening in? The channel’s becoming more constricted with almost every stade we sail. Not long now.”
“And we’ll see the Standing Stone easily?” Gabrielle had other worries, apart from the long cold voyage. “I mean, we ain’t gon’na have to climb up into those dam’ mountains?”
“Hades, no.” Xena laughed, at her ease. “It’ll be more or less on the shore. You should be able to spot it even before we’ve landed.”
As the light longboat skimmed across the surface of the wide fjord, each side of which showed simply the nearly vertical walls of mountains several score of stadia high descending straight into the cold waters, Xena ruminated on the reasons for their present expedition.
It had been the best part of a month since their attack on a bandit’s stronghold down on the coast; those outlaws being the dregs of Norse society rather than true warriors. Asked by the local villages to do something about the group of dangerous thugs Xena and Gabrielle had, with some back-up, done what they could. The end result being the burning of the bandits’ lair and dispersal of the few survivors.
What they were now undertaking, nearly at the head of the longest fjord in Norseland, was attempting to effect the return to the Goddess Freya of some treasure which had been found in the hands of the bandits. Xena knew of Freya’s ancient Temple somewhere in the frozen wastes at the head of the fjord and so had decided on the spur of the moment to return the recovered spoils in person, much to her Amazon companion’s disgust, she not caring less about the various golden cups, salvers, kylix drinking bowls or kraters.
“Just plates for an Inn’s kitchen’s all.” She huffily putting forward her two drachmas worth, to no effect, of course. So now they were nearly at their weary cold journey’s end.
“Two points t’starboard—half a stadia off, ma’am!” This shout from the longboat’s captain standing far back at the raised stern, brought the women warriors’ to attention.
“Where?” Gabrielle peering with slit eyes from under the protection of a raised palm.
“There! See?”
“Ah! Got it! Sure that’s it? Looks like an ordinary boulder—standing upright, I give ya that, but still—”
“That’s it, sure enough, baby.” Xena taking no prisoners. “You’ll see when we reach it. It’s the keystone t’finding the temple.”
“Dam’ hope so, I’m cold already, an’ look like I’m gon’na be colder still out on that exposed bare rock.” Gabrielle, as ever thinking first of her creature comfort. “Ya realise there ain’t a blade of grass, tree, bush, or even a mossy dam’ rock anywhere within twenty stadia? Just sayin’!”
Xena sighed, not for the first time in the last few days of their voyage.
“Just think of the moral good you’ll be helpin’ t’do with the return of Freya’s treasure. Should warm the cockles o’your heart, surely?”
Gabrielle, Queen of the Northern Amazons and well aware of such high rank, wasn’t having any of this feeble muttering.
“The cockles of my heart froze over permanently more’n ten years ago, as you well know, dearie. An’ this deserted wasteland ain’t the place they’ll start t’warm up again—that bein’ a dam’ fact!”
The Stone, a short while later when Xena and Gabrielle finally stood beside it, towered some 25 feet above their heads, in the form more of a pillar than a mere rounded rock or boulder; it being around three feet wide by half a foot thick up to its pointed pinnacle. There were some faint scratches on the surface which might be interpreted as designs or words but were now too obscured by the passing years to be readable.
“Well, yeah!” Gabrielle allowing with faint praise the object had some sort of presence.
“Gods!” Xena by now wholly out of patience. “This is it—Balder’s Stone.”
Gabrielle, looking for any excuse, jumped on this like a hungry leopard.
“Balder? Who in Hade’s name is Balder? Thought we were lookin’ fer Freya?”
“It’s called Balder’s Stone, ‘cause one of his warriors was buried beside it long ago.” Xena shrugging disinterestedly. “See, the mound over there? Nobody’s bothered t’correct the fact—but it’s still Freya’s Stone in reality.”
“Hmmph!” The Queen still nowhere near convinced. “If ya squeeze your eyes close tight enough!”
“Gods, woman—”
But Gabrielle was already fed up with the whole thing.
“Just tell me where we go from here t’find Freya’s bloody Temple, so we can dump this scrap metal we’ve hauled up here with us? This is not my idea of a Happy Holiday Spot!”
Before Xena could reply there was a flash of multi-coloured light, like a rainstorm where the drops were flashing jewels, a burst of golden light that blinded the two women for an instant then, on recovering their sight, they found themselves in the Hall of a vast palace, sunshine streaming in from huge high windows on each side, and the temperature vastly warmer than it had been. Before them stood a massive golden throne seated on which was a tall lady in a shimmering green dress.
“Welcome to my Hall Sessrúmnir, I am Freya—you have brought me some lost household goods, I see. I thank you both.”
Chapter One.
“Where the Hades are we?” This from an astonished Gabrielle, though in a low enough voice to hopefully not be heard by their erstwhile hostess.
“Sessrúmnir, Hall of the Dead; this must be Fólkvangr, the Land of the Dead ruled over by Freya as opposed to the opposite destination, Odin’s Valhalla.”
At this Gabrielle’s attitude changed completely, for good reason.
“Fólkvangr? Freya? By the Gods! It really is?”
“Yeah, really!”
“Greetings, Xena—Gabrielle! Your presence gives me great pleasure; you could not have arrived at a more appropriate moment.”
“Oh-oh, don’t like the sound of that!”
“Buck-up, warrior!” Gabrielle suddenly a changed woman herself. “Freya, I am Gabrielle, Queen of the Northern Amazons, and greet you with honour!”
“I have watched over your adventures for many years, Queen.” Freya stirring on her throne, a wide smile lightening her stern expression. “I have kept you and your women warriors in my heart for a long time, many of whom now reside here with me, to my overwhelming joy.”
“You do us great honour.” Gabrielle bowing her head slightly. “I have seen with my own eyes certain actions of yours which have helped my tribe in times of danger and sadness—thank you.”
“It is nothing, for you and yours have long proved your worth, and strength, and loyalty, to me.” The Goddess’s green dress flickering in the sunlight with multi-coloured shades like a sea of the purest emeralds. “I thank you once again for hauling the treasure in your boat all the way to my Temple at the head of the fjord-I am grateful.”
“T’was nothing,” Xena waxing unmoved.” Would’a done so for, oh, any Warrior Goddess.”
Freya’s laugh sounded through the vast Hall like a million icicles falling onto boulders.
“Ha, you amuse me, lady! But, to work, I have a duty for you, if you both decide to accept such—something of unusual purpose and importance to me personally. I find I need help, and you both provide all the necessary elements to bring my wishes to fruition successfully. What do you say, ladies?”
Before Xena, used to making the important decisions, could open her lips Gabrielle had jumped in ahead of her, voice ringing loud in the Hall.
“Of course, Freya; the Northern Amazons owe you so much we are honoured to repay even the slightest amount in return. What may I, and my companion, do for you. Speak, and it will be accomplished.”
Xena turned her head to gaze down at her lover with that well-known scowl which had in its time terrified the hardest hearted of bandits; but, against the blonde bombshell, nothing.
“What the Hades—”
“Button it, gal—follow my lead, I’m on a roll!”
“Peerph!”
“Freya, your command is the order of the Amazons! Tell us what you want and we will rush to carry such out.” Gabrielle, even to her own ears, sounding rather over-confident. “—er, that is, we’ll do what we can; considering, er, whatever and, er, things!”
Freya laughed again, making a movement with her arm.
“I approve of your enthusiasm, Queen; but I would explain the circumstances before allowing you to accept my proposal. Shall I tell you the tale?”
Xena, feeling somewhat left out, sniffed imperiously.
“Suppose you can—Gabs here seeming so ready to do your bidding, as it is!”
“Ha! Princess, I approve of you, too, though I may not seem so wrapped in esteem as for the Queen beside you. You, Xena, are as necessary to my plans as Gabrielle herself, have no fear of that. So, the tale—”
Chapter Two
The Hall, when examined closely, as Xena had been doing throughout the latter discussion, showed itself as spectacular. The breadth and height of a Roman Bath, the curved stone roof was delicately sculpted in fan-shaped lines; on either side were three lines of tall windows each row set above the other in the high walls, all with sparkling coloured glass gleaming like jewels in the morning light. The floor or nave was thirty paces wide with two side corridors supported by lines of tall pillars forty feet in height. Every footfall or the least quiet word spoken echoed round the Hall like a mighty shout, reverberating on and on before decreasing to a thin whisper and disappearing. The flagstones of the floor were individually coloured, as of gemstones, gleaming different shades of every colour known, and some apparently unknown to the ordinary human eye. Greens greener than the strongest emerald; reds brighter, reflecting more individual tones than the brightest ruby; blues of such intensity the viewer may easily have thought they had soared to the very zenith of the heavens themselves. And yet, with Freya on her throne before the two visitors, they seemed to be in a private close conversation as if in a small room by themselves.
“What can we do for you?” Xena showing all her terse charm, when caught in a situation not to her liking.
Freya returned this brashness with a warm smile, as determined to put her guests fully at ease no matter their inherent opposition to such.
“Have you heard of Brisingamen?”
Xena looked perplexed, clearly not any the wiser; but Gabrielle rose to the challenge with a cry of delight.
“Your necklace, My Queen! Of course, every Amazon knows of your beautiful necklace; it’s renowned throughout the civilized world.” Here Gabrielle flicked a slightly curled lip towards her partner. “Even if not all know of such!”
“Just so, but I have bad news for you, Gabrielle—Brisingamen has been stolen!”
This news flummoxed the Amazon Queen down to her very boots, sai strapped to each.
“Who could do such a thing, Majesty? After all—to a Goddess of your repute and power!”
Here Xena came into her own, not missing a passing second.
“Must have been another Goddess or God! Lem’me guess—Loki?”
Freya sat back on her golden throne, hand cupping her chin, studying the Princess with a new respect.
“You come to the crux of the matter without hesitation, Princess. Yes, the fool, Loki, has found it amusing to appropriate my beautiful necklace for his own purposes.”
“So what?” Xena hardly engaged with the situation. “I mean, what’s with a necklace? Forget it, an’order another!”
Freya sighed, as faced with a small innocent child.
“As with many of my possessions, Princess, the necklace is not only a thing of beauty and decoration—it has special powers. Powers you on Earth would call supernatural, beyond all strength and intensity. Used improperly those powers could lay waste to civilisations, even more so than a natural disaster. Have you ever heard of the passing of the Mycenaeans?”
Gabrielle frowned, but it was her paramour who came to the fore this time.
“An ancient people on an island in the Mediterranean?” Xena nodding as she brought the details back to memory. “Disappeared after an earthquake destroyed their whole civilisation down to the last mite of dust; hardly anything surviving nowadays to show they’d ever existed.”
“The last time Brisingamen was used irresponsibly!” Freya giving a forlorn sigh at the memory. “I do not want such a tragedy repeated.”
Xena glanced at Gabrielle, though knowing perfectly well her response to this sad remembrance of times past.
“Suppose we got’ta do something to level the stade playing field?”
“Too right, lady!” Gabrielle positive about this. “Anything we can do to assist you, Freya, we will do. Can you describe the necklace, so we recognise it when we find it?”
“Is it a silver or gold torc?” Xena presupposing the most likely supposition.
“No, it is an ordinary necklace in appearance, made up of a wide silver band set with individual settings of emeralds and sapphires, the main jewel at the centre being a hanging sapphire droplet the size of the palm of your hand of the most perfect water; no imperfections within and of the most wonderful lustre. Of course, its powers are known and accessible only to those who know and understand the Great Secrets of Life.”
Xena pursed her lips, not very much impressed.
“So I take it the thing can pass in everyday surroundings as pretty much ordinary? Nobody would give it a second thought, apart from its potential monetary value, anyway?”
“I expect so.”
The Princess here sprang her major criticism.
“So how do you expect us to recognise it? After all, one jewel is pretty much like another. We could find hundreds of necklaces going spare and never be able to recognise Brisingamen, surely?”
Freya pondered this query, a slight smile curling the edges of her pink lips, then her smile broadened as she raised a hand towards the two women. In an instant a faint blueish glow passed between her fingers and the forms of Xena and Gabrielle, though they felt nothing physical. Then the glow had vanished and Freya smiled down on them, perfectly relaxed.
“There, you have both been imbued with the Spirit of the Necklace—when you come across Brisingamen it will make itself known to you without quibble or mistake; you will know!”
Xena shrugged her shoulders, as if trying to feel a change in her body.
“What if Loki breaks it up? Gives it away as separate jewels?”
“It cannot be broken-up; it is whole of itself and will survive the Ages as such. No, when you find it the necklace will be intact to the last stone, fear not.”
Gabrielle, meanwhile, had been constructing plans along other lines.
“Can we have someone to aid us? I don’t think we can do this by ourselves; someone with at least a smattering of Supernatural powers, who can assist us?”
Freya thought about this, before nodding agreement. A sparkling flash followed blinding the two warriors for a moment before, on recovering, they found another woman by their side; tall, dark-haired, clearly a warrior herself, gazing at Xena and Gabrielle with an open friendly expression.
“I am Skadi, and I will help you in your search.”
“She is a warrior, like yourselves; perhaps you have heard of her exploits?” Freya looking on the new arrival with love in her eyes. “She can ski over the widest snowfields with the grace and speed of a racing antelope; she fights like a raging bear, and can outmanoeuvre the greatest General. Take her to your hearts. Oh, another thing! You will need yet another helper, of your own standing; your friend Bremusa is of somewhat delicate a temper but a wonderful warrior—let her be present, too!”
Another flash of light and yet another woman stood by Xena and Gabrielle’s side. Tall, flowing red locks down to her shoulders, long leather leggings in the Germanic manner, a tight linen blouse and a savage looking war-axe at her waistband indicating all too clearly the military basis of the young girl’s standing.
“Xena! Gabrielle! What the Hades!”
“Take it easy, we’ll tell you what’s up when we have a free moment, Bremusa,” Gabrielle taking her friend by the hand. “Just let it flow over you for the present. This is all very well, My Queen, but where do we start our search? Have you any idea where Loki may have hidden Brisingamen?”
“Even my powers are limited in this situation.” She shaking her head. “But The Eastern Steppes are indicated, Loki wanting to keep the jewel as far from my hands as possible in the short term. What he eventually means to do with it is not within my knowledge; which is why I need you to find and return it as quickly as possible.”
“The Eastern Steppes?” Xena not happy at all. “Covers a vast area, we could spend years searching those wild barren grasslands.”
“I cannot, as I said, be precise but I can narrow the area down to a particular district; though you will have to search there yourselves. It is a place lived in by the Scythians.”
“Oh, Gods!” Gabrielle letting her opinion of this wild and distrustful tribe be widely known.
“Better an enemy we know than one we don’t.” Xena being rather more pragmatic than perhaps the situation demanded.
“Then there is no better time to start than the present.” Freya smiling kindly on her subjects before raising an arm, pointing her hand at the group of women warriors.
A flash, green as an emerald, a peculiar itching sensation throughout their individual bodies, and suddenly they all stood on short grass in the middle of a wide plain stretching from horizon to horizon—four riding horses, including Argo, and three pack-horses in a group by their side.
“Well, here we are!” Gabrielle covering the position authoritatively. “So, which way’s which, Xena?”
“Har!”
Chapter Three
The town, two days later when the wanderers reached it, could hardly be said to conform to the Roman or even Greek ideal of such; being rather more of a widespread community—the houses mere broadly spaced temporary huts made of leather sheets stretched across timbers at the corners, much the same for the roofs. Horses and donkeys were in evidence everywhere, even seeming to vastly outnumber the humans of the polis. As was only to be expected the Queen of the Amazons was unimpressed.
“What a dump!”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the only example of its size within another fifty parasangs.” Xena taking the realistic outlook. “Wan’na carry on across the featureless steppes for that length? Fine by me if ya do, sweetie.”
“Huurph!”
In their journey of the last two days across the barren undulating grasslands, interspersed with rivers and streams of varying lengths, widths, and rates of flow the women had come to be better acquainted; Skadi and Bremusa particularly forming a warm friendship, much to the delight of Xena and Gabrielle.
“Hey, you!” Xena exercising all her well-known politeness in such circumstances. “Where’s the Chief here? That way? Yellow leather cover on his yurt? Got’ya, thanks. This way, folks!”
Inside the Chief’s yurt the women found it remarkably spacious, with plenty of room for everyone. The man himself seemed of the better sort of Scythian, if such could be imagined considering their general reputation for under-handed dealings, rapine, banditry, and reneging on business transactions at the first opportunity.
“I only ever saw one other Greek in my lifetime.” The Chief expanding on his memories of High Life on the Steppes. “Odysseus, he said his name was; believe he’d got lost trying to reach his home on some Greek island—neve did find out what happened to him.”
“Huh, Odysseus was always gettin’ lost; dam’ miracle he ever got home at all!” Gabrielle sneering as she recalled her only meeting with the famous explorer.
“Anyways, Ateas,” Xena addressing their host whilst expertly turning the topic onto safer channels. “Loki been up to any tricks in your vicinity these past few months? Just idle speculation, we liking to now what the local Gods are up to on our travels, an’ all.”
“Will you all take another round of wine?” Ateas offering the silver krater with his own hand, quietly ignoring this leading question for the nonce; everyone having been given a smaller pottery kylix each to drink from: where these had been originally sourced probably a question best left unresolved. “Are you really sure you want to dilute this really excellent wine with water? You’re all sure? Oh, well, if you must, but we Scythians always drink it straight from the amphora; I mean, why spoil a fine strong wine by watering it down—but each to their own, I say.”
“Yeah, nice wine.” Xena, not to be put-off so easily, giving the Chief the benefit of her third-best death stare. “Loki, up to his usual pranks, is he? Or any other Norse God, for that matter? Feel sure you’re in the perfect position, out here, to observe such? We’re interested in local Gods’ activities, you know; that’s one of the reasons we travel in so out of the way places.”
Ateas looked as if he hardly believed this explanation but hid his doubts by burying his chin in his own kylix while considering his next move.
“We have various festivals, customs, and religious rites that we perform every so often, that is true.” He musing on the strange ways Scythians amused themselves while literally out in the middle of nowhere. “Loki did show up to one, half a moon ago. He brought a sparkling necklace of great beauty that he said he was going to award to someone who did him a great service.”
Each of the women warriors was well-versed in keeping their emotions, when excited, within strict bounds; but with four together even a half-blind fool could easily have spotted their collective interest in the Chief’s words.
“Aa-aarrmm!” Gabrielle struggling to find a way of replying innocently to this news, and failing miserably. “Necklace? What kind? A gold Torc?”
“No,” Ateas now fully aware of what his guests were after. “silver-set necklace, mainly emeralds and sapphires, a big sapphire at its centre. A beautiful piece of work; wouldn’t mind owning it myself, but Loki was rather cautious about his plans for it. We were only allowed the merest glimpse of it, you understand.”
Xena pursed her lips over this information, going over in her mind the various objectionable actions Norse Gods were easily capable of.
“Any idea where his next port of call might be?”
“The Festival of Hymatres takes place in four days time in Tyganis, twenty of your parasangs to the south-east.” Ateas helping himself to another kylix of wine, unwatered. “If you fancy travelling that far you might find something to your advantage there—if he turns up at all, that is, no promises, mind!”
During this confabulation both Skadi and Bremusa had remained silent, doing their best to reflect the attitude of mere supernumeraries at a Symposium while doing their best to drain the wine krater dry for want of anything better to occupy them. But Bremusa, now well soaked in the local rich red wine of the Scythians, if even watered to within an inch of its life, joined the fray rather less expertly than if she had been wholly sober.
“Dam’ Loki! He’s a mean, crazy, self-centred son’uv’a-b-tch!”
While Gabrielle looked appalled, Xena sneered censoriously, and Skadi attempted to seem as unconcerned as anyone of Godlike powers could in the circumstances, Ateas actually roared with laughter—the unwatered wine in his case making him by this time ideally receptive to any kind of a joke at all.
“You may well have him by the short hairs, my lady!” He still grinning widely at the perceived jest. “He does give that impression, especially to those least knowledgeable of his sense of humour. But there, fun is in the eyes of the beholder, surely, is it not? Will you stay the night? Or go on your way before the sun sets?”
“We’ll be on our way, thanks.” Xena making this decision concrete before the chief could make any further polite objections. “I fancy visiting Tyganis, and at that distance every clepsydra counts! Thank you for your hospitality, and wine.”
“Please return soon.” Ateas off-loading the majority of his well-wishes on his visitors. “We may not be precisely here, still; but somewhere in the general Region, certainly, Goodbye! Perhaps next time you will try your wine without water!”
Chapter Four
The vastness of the wide steppes was never more clear than when sat on horseback on a slight incline regarding the far horizon all round. And far was by an easy length the best description; sitting astride her steed Gabrielle considered the eastern horizon the next morning as they all paused to get their bearings. As far as she could determine the grasslands, covered in knee-high scrub, rolled away some four or so parasangs before the line of the sky cut across her line of sight.
“How far’s the horizon, over there?”
“Four and a half parasang.”
Gabrielle turned her head to gaze at the Princess beside her.
“Mighty sure of that?”
“Yip!”
“Har!”
Skadi, while this discourse took place, had something more important to discuss.
“Why do you use a sagaris, Bremusa? Is it not unwieldy in battle?”
“Quite the opposite, Lady.” Bremusa, from long experience, well used to defending her choice of weapon. “My sagaris can cut across any sword wielded by man or woman. It’s all down to impetus; a sword, no matter how well handled, is a light thing: a sagaris axe, on the other hand, once swung against an opponent, is almost unstoppable until it has cut you in half!”
“A point worth remembering.” Skadi nodding acceptance of this bloodthirsty rule of War. “Glad you’re on my side and not the other way round.”
“We’ll stop for our midday meal over by that stream.” Xena having marked the local lie of the land to her satisfaction. “That stand of ash trees’ll shade us just enough. Those who wish can try and nap for a couple of clepsydra, then we’ll be on our way again. I want us to get some solid distance under our hooves by the evening.”
“Must we push on so hard each day?” Skadi frowning over this necessity.
“These are the Steppes, Skadi.” Xena sure of her unassailable position in regard to this question. “If we don’t hurry on we’ll never exit these dam’ grasslands. You know they go on interminably in all directions. We push on to our destination at a steady fair pace, or meander along and never get anywhere but older—your choice!”
Pausing in the middle of a limitless grass desert had the good result at least of letting the Amazon Queen show how hunting small animals for lunch should properly be done. In her years of life with the Amazons she had learned, mostly the hard way, how to accomplish all sorts of things previously outside her ken; but now she rivalled the best hunter in Greece at catching stray rabbits, deer, or if necessary, larger prey still. On this day her sights were set on rabbits and a small herd of deer she saw pretending to not be there in the long grass some three stade away to the north. When the group had settled at their temporary campsite and all their equipment had been distributed as needed she took her bow and a sheath of narrow-pointed arrows and, glancing nonchalantly in the direction of her companions, made her intentions known.
“Hold-off with that beef jerky, Lady.” Addressing the Princess. “Give me a small clepsydra or two an’ I’ll bring in four rabbits and a young deer. If Skadi can skin it, the deer that is, then we’ll have fresh meat for the next three days at least—maybe see us right to Tyganis! Won’t be long.”
The Art of Hunting has been covered in depth by many writers; some from personal though amateur experience, like Manetho or Procopius, some from the merely intellectual angle such as Tomidaeus or Scipio Frontinus; but none from the expert veteran used to long hours stalking their prey over all sorts of uncomfortable terrain in all sorts of weather—such being of everyday habit to an experienced Amazon. Gabrielle, here and now, was in her natural element.
The rabbits were dealt with surprisingly easily; rather than set traps for them, Gabrielle lay in the long grass peering across to the bank of a stream with waist-high mud banks where several rabbit burrows were clearly in evidence. Her long-range arrows with sharp-pointed tips, were all the equipment needed for the next step. A quiet wait till her chosen individual prey was in just the right position, had stopped to test the air with its twitching nose, allowing her to align her bow to the nearest minutiae, pull back the cord with powerful but smooth ease, then release it at just the right moment. End result, one rabbit deceased but now ready to do its afterlife duty as a delicious stew. Taking into account the neighbouring rabbits all took due note of the murder of their friend, companion, or, sadly, relative, and hit their individual burrows like thunderbolts from Zeus himself, still it took only another clepsydra—rabbits being stupid things at best, with memories hardly as long as a daisy’s roots—before she had her full quota of the animals to hand.
“Now, for those deer.”
Spoken in a cool cold tone that showed the Amazon was intent and focused on her present duty to the exclusion of all around her.
Hunting rabbits could, as she well knew, be at best described as a diversion well suited to passing an idle afternoon; but stalking deer, on the other hand, was a career open only to those who knew the intricate details of sliding belly-flat through high wet grass and underbrush, staying as quiet and silent as any supernatural entity, knowing what upwind and downwind meant in these circumstances, and how to avoid the one while making full use of the other, and finally being able to reach that perfect intersection where the hunter was in exact alignment with their prey at a perfect distance. All that was needed then was the hunter being able to bring to bear an expertise on a level that boded no likelihood of failure on the one hand or escape for the prey on the other.
Gabrielle, clad in deerskin jacket and leggings, red leather short boots with sai strapped to their sides, arrow sheath on her back, and mud and dirt collected along the way making her face look as if it had been carelessly warpainted, performed all these preliminary actions with the quiet expertise of one who knew exactly what was required, how slowly and carefully she needed to accomplish her every move, and how to keep her intended prey in sight without scaring either it or the rest of the small herd away. Finally, breathing so lightly as hardly to be doing so at all, she raised her bow, set the arrow tip directly at her prey, took a long silent inhalation of breath, then released the cord. A whistling whine, receding into the distance, a long pause whilst nothing happened, then the deer jumped in the air as if kicked by a giant, thrashed around on the ground legs going in all directions, then fell to the earth motionless, its companions in the herd racing off in all directions—mission accomplished.
Rising to her feet Gabrielle stood tall amongst the veldt-like terrain, grass clumps nearly high as her waist, raised her bow in the air and gave a loud cry of triumph, alerting her companions nearly three stade away to her success and of their now certain delicious lunch to come.
A short while later, when Skadi had performed the rather messy task of skinning and cutting-up the small deer carcase while Gabrielle fried rabbit fillets her special way, the campfire saw a ring of satisfied customers rapidly clearing their samian-ware pottery dishes of every least scrap.
“Where’s that small amphora of red garum sauce, Gabs?”
“Left it in Tiryns, before we started this expedition, dear, sorry.”
“Oh, Gods, you know how much I like garum sauce on fried rabbit!” The Princess’s tone that of a young girl denied yet another sweetmeat. “It ain’t the same, y’know, without!”
“Darling, eat your rabbit and don’t make a scene.”
“Hii-iirph!”
Chapter Five
Tyganis was an actual town, stone buildings scattered amidst a majority of wood edifices. None were more than two storeys high, though, with most simple one-floor huts; but still enough to make a spreading metropolis, if a community of some hundred buildings in an area five stade wide could be so called.
As usual the Chief’s house was in the centre of the town, painted green and blue with a bright red door in its centre.
“Where’d they get that bright red paint?” Gabrielle as was her custom fixating on a minor detail. “Never seen a tone that bright before.”
“Some plant, or local tree bark!” The Princess not interested at all. “Who cares?”
“I do, sis.” Gabrielle trying valiantly to make her presence felt but failing as usual.
“OK, the Chief’s hideout,” Xena coming to the important aspect of the situation. “here we are; now remember, I do the talking, don’t say anything about the necklace, just let things flow naturally, right?”
“What about the—”
“I’ll deal with that, Skadi.”
“What if we—”
“Won’t happen, Bremusa.”
Gabrielle, well-knowing her lover down to her very smallest toe, kept politic silence.
Dycaeus, the local Chieftain, stood almost as tall as the Princess though his chest length black beard made any chance of mistaken identity hardly likely, unless one had partaken of a goblet or so too much of the local wine.
“We see so few foreign travellers that is a point of honour on our part to receive them with open arms, you understand.”
This in explanation of his announcing, no denials allowed, an evening symposium for the new arrivals where there would be food to suit all tastes, dancing ditto, and wine from barrels you could drown in; incidentally an action some lucky past enthusiasts had actually managed to accomplish, seen locally as a glowing exit from Life to the next happy existence.
“There is an empty house just two streets to the east, where you can be comfortably accommodated at no cost.” Dycaeus waxing almost Emperor-like in his distribution of enticements. “A man who lived there was recently found to be stealing from his neighbours while they were away. So we had a fair trial, of course, then executed him, his wife, and their children, just to be on the safe side. Most Judges and Lawmakers tending to err much too far on the side of empathy, fair-play, and compassion, don’t you find!”
The house, on investigation shortly after, proved to be entirely capable of playing host to all four travellers, a stable at the rear of the premises even able to contain their horses.
“It’ll do, for a few days.” Xena making her opinion public in her usual don’t argue with me tone; which, of course, only set-off her blonde side-kick on all fronts.
“You heard what Dycaeus said, everyone slaughtered, and all you’re concerned with is if the beds are comfortable or not!”
“Life’s like that, Amazon Queen, take it on the chin.”
“Huh!” The Queen of the Northern Amazons not quelled in any way. “So much for looking after Number One! Well, I bags that single bed in the small room upstairs—don’t want Princess’s snoring in the night disturbing my beauty sleep!”
“Har, some chance, dear; we sleep together, or we don’t sleep at all!”
“Oh, the mighty Princess has spoken, has she!” Gabrielle firing up just like an angry Amazon, which of course she presently was.
“Ladies,” Bremusa, from long acquaintance, being able to butt into this domestic dispute without danger of losing limb or life. “let’s get real, OK? I’m taking that single bed myself, any who think differently’ll feel the edge of my sagaris, is all!”
A short candle’s length later sweetness and light had been re-established; the beds allocated to everyone’s satisfaction, Gabrielle and Xena having a nice swan’s-down mattress affair piled high with sheets and blankets in a large room on the second floor. The kitchen providing enough cutlery and dishes for Gabrielle to prepare another of her delicious meals as they all settled in for the evening: the tender roasted deer fillets in gravy sending a wonderful aroma throughout the house.
“Ain’t there a flagon of garum to be found anywhere in this hole?” The Princess still harking on minor details.
“Why should a bunch of Scythians ever have heard of garum, never mind tasted it or laid-in a cargo of the stuff?” Gabrielle wholly critical of her lover’s taste in such things. “This’s a perfectly good gravy, one of my best in fact, just be grateful for small mercies, Lady.”
Dycaeus had also provided a large amphora of the local red wine, but Xena had ignored this in favour of the white wine they had brought with them.
“At least we can water this down to our own taste without censorious looks from everyone.” She sniffing austerely at the well-known habit of the Scythians to take their wine straight and undistilled by weakening agents. “Hey, Lady, call this a serving? Gim’me another heaped ladle-full, if ya don’t mind. I wan’na garner my strength for any coming battle, not go on a health diet! You’ll be offering me raw green vegetables next!”
“Which wouldn’t do you any harm, woman.” Gabrielle getting her own back in kind while the chance offered. “See ya bust that clasp on your corset this morning tryin’ t’get it tightened round your, ha!, waist!”
“Gal,” Xena outraged by this personal reference. “you know what thin ice is?”
“Have some more crushed turnip, Bremusa.” Gabrielle ignoring all criticism around her. “Vegetables are good for you, you know; anyone who’s read Apicius knows that!”
Later on, fed to each’s stomach’s capacity, plans were made.
“The Festival of Hycartes takes place in just under five days from now.” Skadi passing on what she had recently learned. “I had a chinwag with an old dame out in the street while waiting for dinner earlier; she told me all about it.”
A pause ensued.
“Oh, you want I should tell you? Right! Yes! Of course!” Skadi, being a Goddess, couldn’t turn pink, but instead merely gave a good impression of so doing. “It’s a local harvest Festival; people giving thanks for a rich harvest and all that kind of thing. Wheat, oats, turnips, peas, and whatnot in that line. Wine from the local vineyards, too, of course. In fact, it appears it’s more of a drinking and eating contest than anything truly in the line of straightforward thanksgiving! I get the impression that on the day they’re, the locals I mean, going to let themselves go bigtime.”
Gabrielle sniffed with all the austerity of a long-established Amazon Queen with set morals.
“Bunch of thugs! Think I’ll go for a walk in the Steppes on the day. Sounds just like something Loki would show up for!”
“That being the end-all, be-all, and prime reason for our presence, if I’m not mistaken?” Xena coming it the regal lady in her own right.
“Oh-Ah!”
“Precisely!” The Princess taking command with well-versed authority. “Only reason we’re here! Got a job t’do; better figure out just how we’re gon’na do such, eh?”
Gabrielle, back on purpose and actually considering the matter in hand, musing on these esoteric details.
“Loki’s a God—no, don’t laugh, I’m only startin’ from basics. So what can we do to oppose him? I mean, anything we do he’ll just wave his hand an’ send us to some ghastly place where we’ll take years to find a way out, or something even worse. What’s the opposite of Valhalla and Sessrúmnir.”
“Niflheim,” Skadi coming in here with her personal knowledge of such matters. “The Land of the Dead, in a more general less honourable sense than the other Lands. Governed over by Hel, Loki’s daughter, as it happens.”
“Oh, just great!” Gabrielle jumping on this depressing detail. “All we need!”
“Let’s not worry till it arrives,” Xena growling low, as she did when she meant every word. “But it ain’t gon’na happen on my watch, ya can be sure of that. Loki, or Hel, tries anything along those lines they’ll regret such for the rest of their short pain-ridden lives!”
Skadi was impressed with the warrior-woman’s attitude.
“You speak as one who is almost a Goddess herself?”
“I have certain Powers, yeah.” Xena letting them in on what she usually kept a dark secret except from her blonde paramour. “Loki tries flashing his spells around he may well get a rude awakening he wasn’t expecting. My plan is to get him somewhere on his own, where we can act without endangering the locals, then put him in a position where his only option is to hand over the necklace without argument.”
“Sounds far too simple.” Bremusa shaking her long red locks and frowning in disgust. “He ain’t gon’na be that easy to ride over; things are gon’na happen first, you know!”
Gabrielle, on her part, was undeterred.
“We’ve been in a lot of fights with various Gods and their hanger’s-on. Some multiple times; as you see we’re still here an’ more or less unharmed. Loki won’t be any different. Once you’ve stood up to Ares face to face you don’t find lesser Gods particularly scary.”
Skadi on her part smiled knowingly.
“Loki is usually regarded as a kind of jester God; one who plays games and pranks against other Gods and lesser people. But his brand of humour often contains lethal types of fun, especially for any ordinary mortals who get in his way. Make no mistake, if you oppose Loki and anger him he will destroy you just as easily, unthinkingly, and without mercy as any other God. I am only a minor Deity myself, with few Powers, but I know how their minds work, believe me.”
“Worth taking note of, certainly.” Xena hardly impressed still. “But Gods, as Gabrielle and I have long found out, have their limitations too—the only necessity being that of discovering what those might be, is all. Come on, let’s go to bed; tomorrow morning is one morning nearer the day. G’night all.”
Chapter Six
The morning of the Festival of Hycartes dawned fresh, bright, sunny, and warm with only the slightest of refreshing breezes wafting over the Steppes to cool the overheated brow—though this would not really come into its own till much later in the day when copious amounts of the local red wine had been consumed beyond all reason, as was the holidaying Scythian’s usual habit and delight.
The group of warriors stood in the town’s theoretical centre, it’s general layout being a matter of the imagination rather than visible logic. Crowds were strolling around in the highest of good humours, and a certain amount of drinking had already begun judging by the faces of many of the younger menfolk. The fact they were sauntering along with leather or pottery flasks in hand from which they drank at frequent intervals making this more than obvious.
“Hey, big gal!” A youth with a mop of crusty oily hair and the manner of a pig, standing in Xena’s path, giving her a leering sneer. “Wan’na play? Let’s get rid of these other wh-res, an’ go play behind the Inn, eh? I got five drachmas sez I’m good for it!”
Thump!
The Princess stepped over the fallen remains with effortless ease and contempt.
“Come on, the action’s starting out on the edge of town to the west. Some sort’a races an’ physical games goin’ on. These Scythians once heard of the Olympic Games an’ve been tryin’ t’imitate such ever since—ought’a raise a laugh, at least. Him? Oh, never mind him; probably forgotten what happened when he wakes up!”
The women found themselves, on arrival on the outskirts of the community, in a large spreading flat meadow easily large enough to contain all the revellers plus contestants for the several games that had been devised for the amusement of all.
“What’s happening?” Gabrielle nervous as an antelope and ready for anything. “When can we expect Loki to turn up?”
“Probably much later, when most of the games have taken place.” Skadi speaking from experience. “He likes to have an audience all to himself, well-sozzled of course, so he can manipulate them the way he pleases. Probably the afternoon before he shows.”
“What chance has he of bringing the necklace along?” Gabrielle still dubious about this detail. “I mean, why should he? Surely he looks on it as a priceless treasure that’ll eventually give him great power?”
“He’s already a God with almost endless power.” Skadi correcting the Amazon. “To him the necklace is hardly more than an ordinary jewel. He knows its powers, but they don’t rival, never mind exceed, his own. No, what he likely has in mind is giving it as a gift to someone of mortal strain whom he perceives as a follower and who can, in the long term, aid him in his own nefarious doings.”
Gabrielle was unimpressed.
“What kind of nefarious doings?”
“Oh, you know—the usual!” Skadi sure on this point. “Ruling the World! Destroying al that is good in the World! Enslaving everyone to his devious desires, whatever they may be! The usual cravings of a mad Emperor! For his intentions are wholly evil, you must realise in order to understand his actions. He is called a jester, but he is a mad jester who kills for fun which is where most of his enjoyment of Life comes from.”
“I’ve gone off him, you know!” Bremusa allowing of her revised opinion. “Not that I thought he was worth a bent brass hemitatemorion in the first place!”
“They’re silv—”
“I was speaking metaphorically, Gabrielle.”
“Oh, yeah, I knew that!”
The Games, when everyone had been called to order and they actually began were excellent of their kind, but in no way able to rival their contemporary origins at Olympia. There were foot-races for soldiers clad in varying levels of military gear, races for ordinary citizens, a few races for women, though these were much shorter in duration. Also fighting games, based on boxing or the even more extreme pankration events so loved in Greece, where teams consisting of one each, or two, or four on a team competed to beat the living shi—er, backbone out of their opposite numbers; rules merely being a matter of individual taste and opinion for the contenders as the matches unwound. Curiously this all taking place with the contestants fully clothed, even the runners in the individual races; no nudity allowed.
“No wonder they can’t run very fast, or do much else well!” Bremusa quick to criticise this rural backwater attitude. “Everyone of intellect knows you got’ta be naked to exercise at all well, never mind win a Games race or whatever.”
There were the usual shows of expertise in archery, lance throwing, axe wielding, which greatly interested Bremusa, and a curious game consisting of teams of fifteen on each side kicking an inflated pig’s bladder around part of the field, the object being to kick it into the opposition’s netting, which was set up at each end of the designated area. The rules were hard to understand, but everyone seemed to have a great deal of fun backing their particular teams. The chance of blood being drawn was evident by its actual presence, several members of various teams being carted-off on blankets in varying states of physical decrepitude.
“Take their fun dam’ seriously!” Gabrielle only stating the obvious after one particularly gruesome episode where no less than three participants were being hauled away, each streaming blood over the grass.
“Strange game,” Xena dismissive of the whole thing. “Sure it’ll never catch on.”
And so the day wore on its weary way, at least to those with more important matters taking their attention. But finally the last of the races were run, the last boxing match drew to its bloody conclusion, the last lance throwing show was cancelled after no less than four spectators somehow managed to interject their bodies between the thrower and his target to their extreme detriment. The last grape was chewed, the last sweetmeat gobbled, the last bowl of nuts, three times the price they should have been as everyone muttered darkly, was delicately nibbled by the womenfolk present and, not before time some thought, Loki finally made his appearance.
Chapter Seven
“He’s over there!”
Gabrielle, tired after a long boring day, glanced round uninterestedly.
“Who? Where? Do I care?”
“Loki, he’s arrived.” Skadi’s tone one who knew of whom she spoke.
“Loki?” Gabrielle suddenly becoming far more in tune with passing events. “Where? I didn’t see or hear any shower of stars or funny colours!”
“He likes to make a covert appearance, be just one of the boys, so to speak.” Skadi sneering quietly. “Part of his sense of humour.”
“Over where?” Gabrielle now as alert as a hawk on the wing. “Nobody out of the ordinary that I can see.”
“The tall fair-haired man in the blue leather shirt and Germanic leggings, standing by the wine stand to your left.”
“Ah, got him!” Gabrielle giving the distant form the full effect of an Amazon examination. “Seems a bit young—you sure?”
Skadi sighed despairingly.
“Give me the credit to recognise a free-standing Norse God when I see one.” Skadi snarling quietly.
“What’s he God of, by way of interest?”
“Nothing. He’s a free agent, doing whatever he likes; which pretty generally is annoying most of the other, more rational, Norse Gods.”
“Helpful.” Gabrielle frowning over this information. “Doesn’t sound the kind’a guy who’ll listen to reason vide Brisingamen, though? Shall we wander over and make the bum’s acquaintance?”
Skadi wriggled her shoulders impassively at this request.
“Only if you want to be vaporised into a pale mist quietly dispersing in the breeze, or something worse. Let’s fill Xena and Bremusa in on our visitor first. She may have something intelligent to say about our next move. They’re both just over there.”
Skadi turned away from the distant focus of their attention to do as she said, an angry Amazon trudging in her wake, still trying to think of a suitably scathing answer to Skadi’s sharp brush-off.
“Yeah, I pinpointed him a while ago.” Xena putting Skadi in her place without even trying. “Just been observing his actions, seeing what he might be up to. He hasn’t noticed Bremusa or I yet—you two?”
Skadi shook her head; Gabrielle, on the other hand—
“Give over, sister! People only see a hunting Amazon the moment after their arrow’s hit them in a vital place! Nah, Loki’s innocently unaware of his Nemesis—Me!—being so close.”
Xena gave her paramour that look but, the blonde beauty being so used to receiving such over the years, it had no visible effect.
“OK, so if we go over and say hallo will he act up; make a scene? Lay waste to people an’ things just to show he means well, or what?”
Skadi took a moment to gaze at the warrior beside her. Xena presently showing resplendent in her full glory, having ditched her long fur coat for just her normal attire—eye-catching as this always was to those unused to such.
Bare shoulders, figure-hugging leather corset faced with bronze fol-de-rols, short skirt made of individual leather strips caressing her thighs, bare legs from wherever down to her long black boots, with a knife at her waistband and the haft of her sword showing in its back-sheath over her right shoulder. Altogether a woman to take note of and be chary with in conversation.
“Well, he’ll certainly take notice of you—Gabrielle, too! He having an eye for the Ladies!”
“Oh, Gods! That’s all I need after a hard day!” Gabrielle expressing her opinion of this likely attitude on the part of their adversary.
“Come on, gal!” Xena in her element. “Just pretend the moron’s Ares; can’t go wrong with that!”
When the four women hove-up beside the anonymous God he turned his full attention on them, allowing his right eyebrow to rise the full half a finger’s width which showed a Norse God’s absolute astonishment at anything.
“Ha! I know you! Bertha, the warrior woman; yes, I’ve heard of your exploits over the years. And this must be your side-kick, Gabrielle! How nice of you to visit me.”
Bremusa, being so completely ignored, retaliated by sticking her chin in the air as if not caring less; while Gabrielle’s cheeks turned a pretty puce colour, her muscles tightened, and she prepared to annihilate yet another uppity God. Xena hurriedly stepping-in to avoid unnecessary disaster.
“Loki! I’ve heard of you, too. I understand you’re the childish fool who gads about making all the other, more reasonable, Norse Gods laugh in their cups over your silly immature antics. Well, do something silly right now, so I and Gabrielle and Bremusa here can have a good laugh at your expence!”
The shoulder muscles beneath the covering shirt of the God rippled as he absorbed this scathing rejoinder, before finding his voice once more.
“You provoke me wondrously! But then, you’ve had so much practice with Ares, I believe. How are your relations these days with the God of War for your petty little country?”
“Oh, we get along just fine; having respect for each other—something you’ll never have from anybody, layabout!”
Gabrielle too was itching to have her say in the unfolding war of words.
“Yeah, I’m just thinking of getting Hephaestus to forge a golden magical chain to enwrap your sorry body in, and then throw you off a handy cliff into a deep fjord—no-one’ll miss ya, that’s for sure!”
Loki, aware he was not having the best of the argument took cover in sarcasm.
“Women! You can’t best’ the dears; but you can kill ‘em!”
Xena was up for this, however, unsheathing her sword with practiced speed, aiming the gleaming point within a finger’s length of the God’s throat.
“Try anything, and see what happens. This sword’s imbued with powers, as I am, that even a God can’t defend against. Wan’na feel how it is to be dissolved into your constituent atoms, never to be reformed however much you cry for mercy? One wrong move’ll see it happen, sunshine.”
They being part of his everyday existence Loki took threats, mostly coming from other more powerful Gods, seriously being very defensive of his own personal being at any one moment. It only taking a swift rake with his inner vision over both the sword aimed at his neck and the warrior herself for him to realise she was neither joking about her weapon nor herself—supernatural powers, unknown even to him, were sweeping through both in invisible waves—he felt his position weakening by the passing of each moment.
“You seem well equipped, I give you that.”
The ensuing stand-off appeared likely to cover a whole aeon, but Gabrielle broke it with her usual curt Amazonian brusqueness.
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk, like civilised people, these crowds are annoying me, an’ my friends. You got’ta nice peaceful hidey-hole where we won’t be disturbed?”
“One from which we can easily find our way back!” Bremusa laying down a not unimportant detail.
Loki gazed at the group of women, pondered on the fact that he had never liked female Norse Gods, giving Skadi the honour of so recognising her presence, nor especially Greek warriors in any form or shape. Then he folded.
“Oh, fine; I have a place not far away, only take you and your steeds two days to return from back here, if returning to this hole is of any importance to you. Let us go!”
A swish of all-encircling light, like icicles flashing through the air all round; sheets of multi-coloured mists encircling the four women and, interestingly, their steeds; a further blinding flash of pure white light and the four found themselves standing in the Hall of a large country dwelling, sunshine coming through a row of tall windows.
“Here we be; a small place, I admit, but mine own.”
Gabrielle was not for taking this at face value.
“Where are we? You said we’d be able to ride away from here,—where to?”
“We are on the outskirts of Asgard, a few days journey hence, anyway.” Loki wrinkling his brow in annoyance as still being on his back foot in this discussion. “If you travel due East, on your steeds that are comfortably stabled here, you will find yourselves back in the general area from which you came. So, what can I do to help my honoured guests? Shall I make it that we enjoy a rousing banquet in the meantime? Lots of food, lots of drink, lots of fine jesters and acrobats to make the passing hours go by enjoyably? Just ask and it can be done!”
“What I want is some common-sense talk from you, laddie!” Xena coming out fighting as was always her way. “We all here know you’re renowned for being a asshole—something you’ve proved already, in fact. But what we want is the necklace Brisingamen, which we know you stole from Freya some time since. Hand it over, and we’ll be gone before you can blink an eye. How’s that sound for a good deal?”
Loki shook his head, attempting an expression which might have been meant for a dismissive grin but which failed miserably in its appointed task.
“Poorly, madam! Necklace? Necklace? Oh, that thing! I do recall having been gifted with such a fol-de-rol by someone—was it Freya? Just like something she would do in her cups—she liking a few flagons of honest mead, you know. So, she wants the trinket back, does she? Just what I might have expected! What makes you think, though, I am in a giving-back mood presently?”
Xena, never one for the intricacies of political argument and give and take, came to the crux of the matter in few words.
“You have the usual choice, moron; give it back, into my hand now, and we’ll forget the matter,—or die! Feel free to make your own choice, dog!”
Loki gave the Princess a cold examination, furrowing his brow deeply in doing so.
“You are, I admit, a new form of warrior to me. Not many female warriors with the gumption to stand face-to-face with a strong Norse God and spit in his eye!”
“You seem determined to pretend I am not here, Loki.” Skadi joining the fray for the first time. “But here I am. You and I have had, er, meetings before, I know, not always friendly in their way—”
A curious rumbling growl, like a mighty invisible animal in the last stages of ungovernable rage, sounded throughout the vast stone-lined Hall—Loki attempting to control his inner anger.
“—so, knowing what I am capable of, and of what you are capable of suffering at my hands if I give free reign to my intentions, perhaps the safer, easier decision will be as the warrior woman asks?” Skadi continuing without pause, a sneer rippling over her red lips. “Give her the necklace and lets be done with this foolishness. You are a poor God, a minor God, an immature example of the worst kind of Norse God; and I have no doubt that in the future—not so far off as you may imagine—I myself will find a way, a long-lasting painful way, of making you suffer for your past crimes. Give the Lady what she asks for! It will be all the better for you if you do.”
Being in truth exactly what Skadi had described, a minor petty example of his kind, Loki took the only remaining exit route available to persons of his brand in his position,—he became ungovernably angry.
The entire Hall around rocked on its foundations, the atmosphere turned a deep crimson as if the very air had transformed into something rich and strange, a crack as of infinite Doom approaching sounded all round, then things returned to normal, Loki having apparently shot his bolt but to no useful effect, Skadi having, with a turn of her wrist, set up a shielding barrier between her companions and the worst of the God’s mad anger.
“Is that all you’ve got, fool!” She now responding in kind, provoked beyond reason.
Another flick of her wrist and the form of the God was encircled by red-hot iron shackles and chains glowing bright with heat; obviously heat of a kind even Norse Gods found less than comfortable, for he immediately started to writhe in agony, screaming loud curses in a voice harsh with ongoing pain.
“Enough, Skadi!” Xena taking the lead. “Let him go! Now!”
For answer Skadi turned a sneering expression in the warrior’s direction, but then did as asked. There was a flash of light and all was as it had been, except for the still writhing God quivering in every muscle of his tortured body.
“Ha!” Skadi still in a sneering mood. “See what you let yourself in for when you take on the form and physique of Humans, idiot!”
“Where’s the necklace?” Gabrielle sticking with the heart of the matter. “Give it up, now, and have a happy afternoon, banquet, acrobats and all, all to yourself; don’t, and next time Skadi may actually lose her temper!”
Loki, struggling with his inner demons and pain, of which the latter was most active at present, took a few deep agonising breaths before dragging himself upright once again—this time, though, as a sadder and a wiser Norse God.
“I—I—don’t have it now. I gave it away—presented it to a—a—shamaness in the far Eastern Steppes who had done a good turn for me. She has it now; said she had great plans for its use. That’s all I know.”
Xena and Gabrielle exchanged glances.
“It better be the truth,” Gabrielle giving him the benefit of her angry Amazon expression, before which even the Princess had been known to quail. “for if I have to come back here, unsatisfied, my anger and your suffering will be as a child stealing a currant bun at a party compared to someone at a Roman amphitheatre being eaten alive by lions; the which I’ve seen, an’ it ain’t pretty, pretty boy!”
“So,” Xena putting in her drachma’s worth against the defeated God. “The Eastern Steppes? How far off? Never mind, send us there right now. And no funny business or, as Gabrielle says, you’ll regret it for the short time you have left to live, buster, when we, as we surely will, find you again!”
Loki took another deep breath, considered his options as laid out by his unwanted visitors and, for once in his sorry existence, took the right decision.
A blast of flame, enshrouding all four women, a feeling as of hurtling through space at a speed unknown in reality, another flash of light and they found themselves standing on long grass in an endless plain, a group of yurts visible on the far horizon, their steeds and pack horses by their side.
“Well, here we are, again!” Gabrielle, as was her wont, stating the obvious just so everyone could be entirely sure of their position.
“Yeah, so it seems!” Xena sighing gently by her side. “This adventure is beginning to tire me, you know, dear.”
“Look!” Skadi taking note of their surroundings. “There’s a wagon on that track over there. Heading for that yurt community. I expect it’s the one where Loki said the shamaness he gave the necklace to lives.”
“Yeah, better see if we can find out before we hit the joint.” Xena nodding agreement. “Hey, you! Yeah, you in the wagon, stop now, I got words fer ya!”
The wagon, hauled by two scraggy horses and driven by an old man dressed in what could only charitably be called rags, came to a halt, he eyeing the travellers with less than happiness.
“What kin I do fer ye? Ain’t got no money, if thet’s what ye’re after.”
“What’s that village over there?” Xena shaking her head at the general suspicion her conversation always seemed to produce on people she met in passing. “Does a shamaness live there, d’ya know?”
“Place ain’t got a name, just there, is all.” The driver sniffing loudly before spitting copiously over the side of his wagon. “Shamaness? Yeah, there’s one thar, for sure. You got a disease ya want cured? Don’t think she’s thet kind’a shamaness, mind you.”
“Know her name?” Gabrielle searching for something useful from the old-timer.
“Yeah.”
A long pause ensued; the travellers waiting patiently for a result they suddenly realised wasn’t going to come without a monetary transfer.
“Oh, Gods!” Gabrielle reaching into her waist pouch without enthusiasm. “Here’s a dam’ drachma. So, name?”
“Alti.”
An even longer pause laid waste to the surrounding landscape as Xena and Gabrielle took in this appalling news. Gabrielle recovering first, if gobbling like a sick goose could be called a response.
“No!”
“Yeah, lady, yeah!” The driver sure of his facts. “Been hereaways four times in the last six months; She been here all thet time—Alti by name, an’ sour by natur’, sure. Take my word fer it. Thet all? Can I get on my way? Thanks!”
The wagon ground on its slow way towards the distant village, the group of travellers standing motionless in its dusty wake.
“No!” Gabrielle only able to repeat herself in disbelief.
“Would seem, yes!” Xena facing reality. “Puts a different angle on things, by a long way. We have to wonder, now, just what evil Alti means to use Brisingamen’s power for; if she hasn’t already started!”
Chapter Eight
That evening the group made camp in the wide grassland by the side of a small stream out of sight of the now distant yurt colony; they having turned aside to the north-west and put the best part of a full parasang between them and the alleged present living quarters of Alti.
“Better make plans before we make her acquaintance.” Xena putting the position plainly. “She sees us, she’s likely to go off the deep end without so much as a hearty hallo!”
“I’m a good shot.” Gabrielle waxing purely cold Amazon in a pickle. “I could lay in the long grass at, say, three stade and hit her right between the shoulder-blades with my first arrow, for sure.”
Xena actually took time to give this suggestion real consideration.
“Nice thinking, lover.” She finally shaking her head in disagreement. “But we know she has power of her own, probably shielding her. You try taking her down, it’ll likely only alert her to the danger, make her even more angry than she’ll be anyway when she knows we’re here.”
“So, what’s our best plan?” Gabrielle open for suggestions herself.
“I got one.” Bremusa raising an eyebrow towards her companions as if holder of all the knowledge of the World.
“Oh, yeah?” Xena angling her chin towards the girl in a wary manner. “Let’s hear it, then?”
“We hit the joint fair and straight-on, as well aware Alti’s already in residence, no surprise to us!” Bremusa grinning widely. “We tell her Skadi here, whom I bet she doesn’t know personally, is also a shamaness with even greater powers than she, Alti! Then we try to inveigle Alti into a competition, or joint venture with Skadi, wherein we drag the whereabouts of the necklace out of her. Skadi has enough powers to combat her, I bet! How about it?”
Xena and Gabrielle gave some deep thought to the plan, both frowning darkly while doing so.
“Might work.” Gabrielle shrugging undecidedly. “What do you think, Skadi?”
“I’m for it, if you all think there’s a chance. Let’s do it.”
“OK, Bremusa, you’re on!” Xena grinning at the young girl. “Next stop, tomorrow, Alti’s yurt, and the coldest welcome to visitors you’ll ever have experienced, if we survive such!”
Indeed, next morning only a bare hour after sunrise, when they rode up to the richest built yurt in the straggling village the welcome they received was indeed almost exactly that which Xena had predicted.
“You!”
Alti, standing at the entrance to her yurt giving the visitors the benefit of all her disgust and anger. She raised an arm in a familiar gesture the warrior women instantly recognised as preparatory to something nasty and evil but Skadi, raising her own arm produced a red screen, flickering with energy between the women and the outraged shamaness. An instant later and all was normal again.
“So, you are the famous Alti?” Skadi inflecting her tone with a level of sarcasm which was meant to sting, and did. “I have powers too, as you see. Try to harm my friends again and I’ll squish you like a beetle underfoot, lady!”
Alti stood back, appraising her new foe, taking stock of her appearance and attitude; finally realising that, indeed, this was someone worthy of respect and a deal of caution.
“A woman of means!” She trying her own brand of snide repartee. “Very fine! But you don’t know just how powerful I can be, when roused. Who are you?”
“I am named Skadi, after the Goddess, a thousand times more powerful and dangerous than you will ever amount to.”
“The Goddess, I could believe it of; you, though, I hardly think so.” Alti entirely missing Skadi’s double-bluff. “You are young, and clearly think a lot of what measly powers you may have; but it takes someone of experience, with the right turn of mind, to fully appreciate how to use their powers to the full advantage. You are only an acolyte at the moment, and travelling with these two losers won’t help you gain further powers, let me tell you right now. Come inside, let us drink and discuss what might be best for you. You Xena, and your little blonde hetaera side-kick, can come inside too, if you fear not! Your other young red-haired girlfriend, also, why not!”
Inside the well-appointed yurt,—Xena meanwhile keeping a tight hand on an angry Amazon’s wrist to prevent mutinous otherwise unrestrained anarchy taking place,—there was plenty of room for the group to sit in a circle on rugs and cushions, a small low table in the centre holding flagons of sweet white wine and samian ware dishes of light sweetmeats. Alti, when she chose, could be an excellent hostess and now brought all her expertise in this line to bear on her mostly unwanted guests.
“We haven’t crossed paths for, what is it, over a year now.” She addressing Xena and Gabrielle. “Even that too short a time to fully appreciate the parting. I had thought you both long departed to Tartarus by now; falling–off a mountain, into a raging river, or under the spears and arrows of several of your almost limitless enemies who’d finally got the better of you both!”
“Hallo to you, too!” Xena, unfazed, giving as good as she’d gotten. “As happy and friendly a lady as ever! How many innocent people have you hurt or worse in the last year, I wonder. How much more deserving of a painful long death are you now? Just the wine, thanks.”
“We have shamaness’s in the Amazon nations who are far better, kinder, more rational than you’ll ever achieve, Alti.” Gabrielle letting the older woman know where she, an Amazon Queen, stood in the matter. “Your time was in the past, the far past, and now your time has long gone. That’s why you’re here now, holed up in a dirty smelly small yurt colony in the middle of the limitless Steppes instead of a scent-laden Palace in Greece or Rome surrounded by an army of servile hanger’s-on. Your day is done, and you know it.”
Alti sneered in answer, her reply well to hand.
“You’ve never liked me since I was responsible for your sudden unwanted short haircut, isn’t that so? It demeans what little looks you ever had, certainly, now as then! All those years ago, and still it rankles—Ha-Ha!”
Gabrielle, never one to quietly take a cutting remark on the chin without a suitable reply, lowered her eyelids till her eyes were narrow slits, sending green shards of angry light towards the shamaness which would have ripped an ordinary person, unprotected by supernatural defences, to shreds on contact; Alti merely grinning more coldly still.
“And who is your sweet young friend here? Let me guess; red hair, war axe as a favoured weapon, all the looks of a seasoned warrior; why, is it Bremusa I have the pleasure of hosting? My-my, what an honour!”
“You’re not my host.” The warrior in question quick to make her real position clear. “I’m just here with my friends, nothing personal.”
“Ha!”
“Aren’t you finding life on the Steppes rather boring?” Skadi stepping into the discussion once again. “I mean, lots of grass and rivers, few people, of any worth anyway. And no likelihood of being able to forward your Social position in the civilised world at all! What do you find to fill your days?”
Alti, took a deep swig of wine, looking sourly at her visitor.
“I have my plans, perhaps more advanced and important than you can imagine, with your tiny minds!”
Skadi by now had the measure of her opponent, and went in for the kill.
“People like you, with weak powers, always work through Familiars; animals or other persons or objects that have greater powers than they. For one so absurdly weak as you, a whole cohort of familiars would be needed—where are they? I see no-one or thing here but your sorry presence. Without Familiars to boost your inadequate power you have no hope of achieving anything of worth, and you know it—so stop boasting to those who see right through you!”
Alti’s normally low growling voice now reached a level of ferocity close to that of a raging tiger, but without the power to back-up her anger. The scream she emitted rang in the enclosed yurt but seemed to be instantly absorbed by the leather hangings, no echo rebounding to heighten her response.
“Yaa—aargh!”
“Is that all you’ve got?” Gabrielle as condescending and disdainful as a teacher to a guilty pupil.
“All?”
Alti, enraged beyond what little reason she was ever mistress of, threw her goblet on the rug by her boot, sat back scowling awfully, and made a gesture with her left hand. Instantly there was a small flash of purple light and something like a small key appeared in her hand.
“See this? It is the key to power beyond the minds of paltry Humans to imagine, never mind hold themselves. With the power this key holds for me I can, and will, rule the World for evermore—Ha-Ha!”
Skadi, her own mind that of a Supernatural entity working millions of times faster than an ordinary Being, acted instantly.
“Then, it is for us!”
With one wave of her hand her power extended to the small object in the shamaness’s grip. Before Alti had the chance to so much as take a breath the key was transferred to the Goddess’s palm while a sudden swirl of green light enfolded the group of travellers: an instant later Alti sat alone in her empty yurt from where all others had vanished as if never having existed at all.
“Yaa-aargh! Come back; you have my precious necklace close to you! I won’t allow it! My precious necklace! Aa-aargh!”
Chapter Nine
East 54th Street, Manhattan, New York, in this year of 1947, in the late evening was relatively quiet, at least this block close to the Hudson River was, with little traffic. This latter probably being for the best when, out of nothing, a shimmering green mist appeared on the sidewalk close to a side-alley from which, when the mist almost instantly dispersed, a group of strangely dressed and armed women emerged.
“What the Hades is this?” Xena first to find tongue after the sudden switch from the enclosed yurt to this new environment. “What the Hades have you done, Skadi?”
“It wasn’t me: the key, when I took possession of it, must have been pre-tuned! It took us all here automatically, I only set the dam’ thing off!”
“Where is here?” Gabrielle looking around her with a baffled expression. “Solid stone underfoot, strange smooth grey-black stuff out on the roadway, and bloody huge buildings, like mighty sheer-sided mountains! How can they stand upright that high in the sky; it must take hours to walk to the top floor and back to the street. Maybe people live that high permanently, without ever coming down to street level?”
“And I don’t think our mode of dress is quite in tune with the times, either; judging by the looks that couple on the other side of the street are giving us.” Bremusa pointing out at least one of the many anachronisms they were now responsible for.
Just as everyone was considering this last query of Bremusa’s they all suddenly stopped in their tracks as first the sound then the actual vehicle responsible hove in view, travelling along the road at a good pace. As the Chrysler sedan roared on its way all four women stood transfixed.
“Did you see the horses?” Gabrielle asking anyone who might have the answer.
“Horses? There weren’t any horses. It went by itself, a hollow metal cylinder; I saw people inside.” Bremusa as mystified as any of them.
“I don’t think we’re in our World anymore.” Xena hitting the heart of the matter in one. “Not the Steppes, not Greece, nor Rome. Somewhere else, maybe a different world entirely; how, I don’t know.”
“If that’s the case, how in Tartarus do we get back?” Gabrielle asking the only necessary question in the circumstances.
“OK-OK! Let’s look at this logically.” Skadi taking command. “I’m a dam’ Goddess—let me get my head round this dam’ mix-up. Give me a moment.”
Skadi closed her eyes for what seemed to the ordinary Humans present only around the time it would take them to blink three times, then she gazed at her companions once more.
“Yes, I know where we are now, and it ain’t good news—prepare yourselves: but first—”
For the least fraction of an instant each woman felt hugely sick, dizzy, and as if on the verge of falling-off a ship into a raging sea; then their footing solidified under their boots once again, only for them to find themselves transformed in several ways.
For starters they no longer wore heavy leather boots but shoes of a much simpler lighter manufacture that hardly covered their ankles. Their normal clothes had been changed for the most peculiar and uncomfortable garments, blouses of the thinnest material, skirts that went from waist to ankle, tight belts round their waists, and underclothes of the strangest style and use.
“What the Tartarus am I wearing?” Gabrielle first to voice complaint. “What are these things, especially my under-things. I’ve never felt more uncomfortable in my life!”
“Take it from me it’s what the ordinary woman wears in this era.” Skadi hardly looking comfortable herself in a blue skirt suit that seemed far too tight round her lower legs and ankles.
Xena, however, had an instant solution.
“Nobody can run in these silly skirts—rip the side seams apart, that’ll give some looseness.” She bending to do just that.
“No! Stop!” Skadi raising an imperious arm and hand in opposition. “We’ve got’ta blend in with the ordinary citizens here; that means dressing like this whether we like it or not. Leave your clothes be, Xena.”
“Hades!” But the Princess accepting the inevitable. “Hey! Where’s my sword? And dagger?”
“Yeah,” Gabrielle quickly ducking down to caress her lower legs. “Where’re my sai? I can’t function without my sai! Bring ‘em back, Skadi, at once!”
“Can’t! Not appropriate. In this World people wandering around loose with obvious weapons is frowned upon—you could go to prison if the authorities saw you that way.”
“F-ck the authorities,” The Amazon one of set determined opinion on some subjects. “return my sai and I’ll show you what I’ll do if anyone argues with me about them! Where in Hades’ Realm are we, anyway? You haven’t answered that yet.”
”And what’ve you done with our weapons?” Bremusa going-off on her own tangent. “I love my sagaris, it’s my whole being. And what about our own steeds? Where’re they? How’re we gon’na get around this vast polis? Looks like it goes on for scores of parasangs in every dam’ direction.”
Skadi sighed softly, obviously finding out for the first time that being an all-powerful Goddess came with drawbacks too.
“OK-OK! Listen up everyone! I got’ta do some hard changing around here if we want to get on in this environment. First, where are we? We’re still on Earth, but on a continent not even suspected to exist back in our own times.”
“Back in our times?” Gabrielle pouncing on this suggestion. “What Times’ are these, then?”
“Around two thousand years after our Times.”
“What!”
“It just is, take my word for it.” Skadi struggling to get on. “Now listen, there are things here you don’t know how to use, to operate—these dam’ contemporary vehicles, for one. There are ways of living, places to live; modern yurts or tents or houses unlike any you’ve ever experienced. Ways of living, ways and things to eat and drink you have no idea of; ways of interacting with others socially and personally that would seem not only strange but absolutely beyond the pale, even inexplicable.”
“I see that already!” Bremusa admitting her present situation with feeling.
“So,” Skadi continuing, anxious to get the job done. “what I intend is to give you all a make-over that’ll bring you up to date with the way the people all round us live now!”
“Don’t like the sound of that!” Xena shaking her head doggedly.
“Don’t worry; when I return us all to our own time and place—which I can do with ease whenever you feel the time has come—you’ll all return to your own original personalities and levels of knowledge without any problems. But while we’re here we’ll need to accommodate ourselves to the ambient way of Life, that’s all.”
“How long’ll all that take you?” Bremusa frowning in doubt. “Hours? Days? Months?”
Skadi raised her eyebrows at the young warrior.
“You forget I’m a Norse God; what may take you months to organise and make happen I can beget in mere instants—behold!”
A haze of pale golden mist enwrapped the group only to dissolve as fast as it had appeared, leaving the band of women standing in a well furnished room lit by an artificial light shining from the centre of the ceiling, the time somewhere around mid-evening.
“Hades!” Gabrielle startled for one. “Where are we now?”
“Not so far from where we first appeared, out on the pavement.” Skadi smiling at the success of her spell.
“Pavement?”
“The street outside, and the walkway.”
“Ah!”
“This room is part of what’s called a suite.” Skadi continuing her lecture on modern life. “This is a hotel, a vast Inn with rooms to rent to hundreds of visitors. We’re presently on the fourteenth floor, if you look out one of those windows—but I warn you to be careful, we’re high up!”
Bremusa, being either bolder or stupider than the average, strode over to the indicated window but, on peering out and down, jumped back with a pale face.
“Tartarus! We’re on top of a huge drop off a sheer mountain cliff!”
“Would seem that way, yeah, told you.” Skadi nodding as one who knows of what she speaks. “I’ve also imbued each one of you with the appropriate social skills and other general knowledge to get around in this World without making fools of yourselves. How do you feel?”
Each warrior considered their own inner being, then shrugged in unison.
“Cars, an’ trains, an’ planes!” Gabrielle first to answer as to her new status. “Yeah, all seems tickety-boo, where’s the problem. Can’t wait, mind you, to hit the shops t’morrow an’ buy a tub of vanilla ice-cream!”
“Yeah,” Xena nodding with a sarcastic grin. “Gabrielle’s sorted for the duration, sure!”
“Hey, gal!”
“Still got that key, that started all this?” Xena returning to the serious subject that had brought them to their new surroundings.
“Yes, here!” Skadi producing the key in question from a pocket of her short woollen jacket.
“So, what is it? And how will it lead us to Brisingamen?”
“This’s what is called a safety deposit box key.” Skadi glancing at those around her enquiringly. “Know what that means, with your new knowledge?”
Gabrielle was first to answer, only hesitating a second.
“Yeah, easy! A Bank, where you can deposit your money an’ important papers or jewellery or whatnot!”
“Just so.”
“But which Bank?” Xena, as usual hitting the main problem associated with the present affair. “There must be thousands of such in this vast metropolis; what’s it called, New York?”
For answer Skadi bent her head, giving the small key in the palm of her hand her full attention. Then she looked across at her companions once more.
“The Southern Counties Bank, West Forty-seventh Street, Manhattan, only about quarter of a parasang from where we are now.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Gabrielle reflecting the opinion of her companions. “Are we to take it Brisingamen presently resides in one of these locked deposit boxes in said Bank?”
Skadi nodded silently.
“Do we have the authority to unlock the box?” Xena touching on another delicate matter associated with the problem in hand. “We have the key, sure; but do we have the legal right to use it?”
Skadi, however, had been doing some undercover work herself on this aspect of their future plans; she producing another key from her opposite pocket.
“Amongst all those other things I’ve done in preparation for you all to live quietly here, I’ve also worked on this Bank affair. This other key is one that is registered in our several names. Any one of us can use it to open our own safety deposit box, it being set in a row close by the one this key fits where Brisingamen hides. So we can legitimately go down into the vault, to our own box, then take the opportunity to open the other box and retrieve Brisingamen at our leisure. I see no problem arising from that. Tomorrow morning would seem an appropriate time.”
Xena and Gabrielle glanced at each other, each thinking the same thing.
“Skadi?”
“Yes, Gabrielle?”
“If Xena and I have learned one thing of note during our past adventures, it’s that all things that can possibly go wrong in the best laid plans will! Better not to hope for the best, but to plan instead for the worst!”
Chapter Ten
The morning, next day, had dawned bright and sunny while, in her and Gabrielle’s hotel room, Xena addressed a point of order to the others assembled there.
“We can’t operate without any weapons!” She aiming this reproach at Skadi. “No swords, no daggers, not even any sai or chakrams since you made us aware of how to live in this decrepit vicious country.. What’s a gal got’ta do to defend herself round these parts, then? An’ I still can’’t get the hang of these strange clothes; took me an’ Gabs near half an hour t’dress this mornin’! Have you ever tried to fit yourself in’ta, what’s it called?, a bra!”
Skadi, the centre of criticism once again, sighed somewhat depressedly.
“There are weapons, but they’re frowned upon. People don’t usually go about swathed in such things like you do back in Greece. It’s forbidden, like I told you earlier, to openly have a dangerous weapon on you in public.”
“That’s no good to anyone.” Gabrielle seeing the weak point in this argument straight-off. “So what happens when a brigand comes up an’ demands your drachma pouch? You just hand it over with a smile? I don’t think so!”
“The citizens generally rely on the Forces of Law and Order, the Police, to handle crimes of all sorts.”
“And how good at that are they?” Xena piercing to the heart of this question with unerring aim.
“Ah, not very, taken all in all, I admit.”
“So, what do we do?” Gabrielle returning stolidly to her original argument.
Skadi sighed again.
“Oh, God! This’s getting so out’ta hand!”
“Ah, there is an answer, then?”
“God! Yeah! OK!” Skadi defeated at the first hurdle. “There are things called guns, firearms. Lem’me put you au fait with the dam’ things—gim’me a mo.”
She waved an arm in the air, encircling all present; the women all felt, for the briefest instant, as if falling-off a cliff from a great height, then all was normal again, except that now they all were up to date with firearms of all sorts.
“Mighty Fine!” Xena greatly impressed. “I’ll have three, thanks! What’s a multi-loading eleven shot sixteen gauge shotgun? Sounds the sort’a thing I could live with!”
After an extended and somewhat heated argument it was finally decided that each warrior would become the happy owner, curtesy of Skadi’s overworked magic, of either a single automatic or revolver, they all choosing the heavier calibers, of course. As Xena said—
“Wan’na put ‘em down, then put ‘em down with extreme prejudice!”
Twenty minutes later, with order restored, the group got down to the business of the day.
“Pity I haven’t had the chance t’practice with this thing yet.” Gabrielle still eyeing her new Colt .32 revolver with something like family pride. “Imagine the terror I could instil, an’ the havoc I could cause back in ol’ Greece! Can’t wait t’take it back with me an’ see what happens!”
Skadi was on top of this mutinous suggestion at once.
“Nobody takes anything from here back with them—if they have’ta go back skin naked from top t’toe jus’ so I can be sure! Make your minds up on that score. What comes from this Time stays in this Time, no arguments.”
Finally the matter of most import brusquely pushed it way to the fore.
“We’ll all go along to the Three Counties Bank,” Skadi laying out the policy of the day. “Bremusa and I will stay outside on the street while you Xena, and Gabrielle, go into the Bank. You go downstairs to the underground vaults, pretend to be opening your own safety deposit box, then take the opportunity to distract whatever guards’ll be there and open the other box. Just wrap Brisingamen in a cloth and put it in one of your handbags, nobody’ll notice; then you hightail it back out to the street where we’ll all meet up again. Got that?”
“Why can’t you use your powers to just, I don’t know, vaporise it out’ta the box an’ hold it in your hand right here an’ now without all this preliminary drama?” Gabrielle covering an interesting point.
Skadi immediately shook her head, showing no regard for this suggestion.
“Not on! There are certain moral restrictions even Norse Gods out of their happy ground have to take note of. I still have Power here, but not the overall extensive ones I hold back in our own Time. I can do certain things still, but not if it’s of major import to us—that you must do yourselves.”
“Helpful!” Xena sneering openly. “What good are you, then?”
Skadi raised an annoyed eyebrow at this scathing remark, but Gabrielle stepped in to soothe heightened tempers before they got out of hand.
“Easy, ladies, lets remember why we’re here—lets get the dam’ job done, OK?”
However, for every cloud with a silver lining that cloud also has a black centre; for every ten dollar note found loose on the sidewalk someone else loses their entire wallet; for everyone who wins on the Numbers racket another will, one dark night, take an unwanted dive into the East River wearing concrete boots. Just so with the Three Counties Bank on West Forty-seventh; while Skadi, Bremusa, Xena and Gabrielle strolled along in that direction trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, so also the Joe Riggs’ Mob were making their own way, in two stolen cars, towards the same Centre of Industry, their hearts set on robbing the place to the extreme detriment of any palooka who got in their way; kick-off time precisely that at which the warriors also meant to darken the Bank’s main entrance—not, morally speaking, for much different a purpose than the out and out bank robbers themselves when you got down to it.
It was 11.43 am when the women came athwart the entrance to the Bank, a few customers going in and out ahead of them. Skadi nodded briefly at the others.
“Bremusa and I’ll hang around out here, look in the window of that haberdashery shop over there; you two go ahead, and remember, act innocent, like you’re just another couple of ordinary customers; no-one should treat you otherwise if you act properly. Go!”
Before Xena and Gabrielle hardly realised what was happening they were through the heavy bronze doors and in the huge main Hall of the Bank. Being, of its kind, a Bank with pretensions this Hall reflected a level of grandiose Devil may care superiority that would have made Nero blanche with jealousy. The floor was made of huge orange marble slabs, the walls were faced with marble with green veins running through it, the ceiling was coffered like an Ancient Roman Palace, and a huge chandelier that Cleopatra herself would have drooled over hung from the centre of the ceiling. All in all the open space made a statement to all who experienced it.
“Huh!” Gabrielle remaining unimpressed under heavy pressure. “We’ve got pots of money; so much, in fact, this’s what we can throw it away on!”
“You’re letting your Spartan, or is it Stoic, side show, dear.”
“Fool!”
On the left there were a series of desks behind a low wood railing; crossing over Xena gestured imperiously at the denizen sitting behind the nearest.
“Yes, ma’am, may I be of help?” The middle-aged man, in a dark suit and thin well-oiled hair so plastered to his head he at first gave the impression of being bald, stood up clasping his hands in a submissive manner.
“Deposit boxes!” Xena going to the heart of the matter. “Where are they?”
“Ah, yes, of course.” The man, acting as if spoken to in this tone every day, which he probably was, pointed over to the head of a flight of wide stairs leading down into the bowels of the Institution. “There we are, madam, at your pleasure.”
“Hmmph!” Xena never being one for subservience at the best of times, curling a supercilious lip in answer as she took Gabrielle’s arm and headed that way.
At the foot of the stairs, marbled from side to side in their turn, they found a long corridor, set-off by a ceiling high wall wide screen of railings preventing further progress, behind which a man in uniform with a pistol holstered at his waist sat in solitary splendour. Seeing the customers he stood up and unlocked the gate in the centre of the railing fence, stepping silently aside to let the women pass.
At the far end of the corridor another metal rail barrier met them, with another armed guard waiting to open for their passage. Finally they found themselves in a relatively small room surrounded on each wall by ceiling high metal cabinets and a second desk behind which another man, younger this time, sat in magisterial lordship.
“This the safety deposit box room?”
Xena giving of her haughty best.
“No, ma’am, through the next door here.” The youth going by the book, as such being wholly necessary in the circumstances. “May I see your key and authorisation, please?”
Gabrielle hunted in her large handbag, bringing out the sheet of paper lately given her by Skadi in earlier anticipation of just this request, while Xena opened her gloved palm to show the key held there.
“Just so, ladies, please follow me.”
Inside the second room the women finally found themselves in the presence of the much vaunted, almost fabled, safety deposit boxes. Metal cabinets rising nearly to head height, most divided into several tray-like sections, while others of almost box-like proportions ran all round the room on three sides, each with a keyhole. To one side two flat tables sat with accompanying chairs.
“I’ll leave you to it, ladies; just knock on the door when you are ready and I will open for you, thank you.”
An instant later they were alone in the small, breathless room.
“Feel like I’m in a dungeon in some Warlord’s bastion!”
“Know what ya mean!” Xena, ignoring the box they had supposedly come for, already searching for her prey. “Ah, here!”
Having matched the number on the metal tag on the face of the tray to the number on her original key Xena inserted it, turning the lock then pulling the tray out completely. Holding it tightly they transferred it to the nearest table-top, leaning over it in eager anticipation. Holding both sides Xena raised the lid to show the interior. Inside lay a single large brown paper envelope bulging with its as yet unseen contents.
“Well,” Gabrielle almost speechless with eagerness. “now’s the time.”
Xena opened the flap of the envelope, gently sliding the contents out onto the table. What then met the astonished eyes of the warriors was indeed something to remember for the Ages; a necklace of sparkling gems, mostly emeralds and sapphires of the first water and size with, hanging in solitary splendour at its centre, one large sapphire of supernatural quality and light. Both women could actually feel the jewel’s power emanating from it as they looked down.
“I can feel it!” Gabrielle first to react. “Giving me goose-bumps all over my body. It’s got a Power!”
“Yeah, sure has!” Xena eager to get the object under control and into some form of safety quickly. “Here, lets get this thing into the leather pouch an’ my handbag soon’s we can!”
In another breath this was accomplished, Gabrielle heaving a sigh of relief.
“Thank the Gods that’s over! Let’s get to Hades out’ta here!”
But they had only just re-entered the outside room when the sound of approaching running footsteps along the corridor outside the metal screen halted the young man in his polite adieu’s to the women; the guard from the other end of the corridor reaching the other side of the still locked rail barrier gasping for breath.
“There’s a dam’ robbery under way upstairs, Ben! At least half a dozen bandits, one with a dam’ Tommy-gun!”
As he spoke the sound, echoing horrendously along the marble-lined corridor, of multiple gunshots rang out loud and clear.
“Think they’re comin’ down here, Ben, better get ready.” The guard himself turning to face back the way he had come, unholstering his pistol meanwhile.
“Oh, Gods, just what we didn’t want!” Gabrielle growling in anger at this unexpected setback.
“Ya said ya needed some practice with that gun of yours, lady!” Xena reacting to the situation with her usual calmness. “Well, now’s the time, seemingly; try to hit only the bad guys, OK?”
“Har!”
Chapter Eleven
The Joe Riggs Mob, on this occasion, consisted of eight beefy thugs, all with long histories of punching first and to hell with the politeness’s. Joe, himself leading the throng this morning, had from long experience figured out that eight was the optimum least number of compatriots necessary if you wanted a good job well done in this corner of commerce. Leaving two young new boys outside as getaway drivers, the rest bundled into the Bank in no formal order, just wanting to get down to business as fast as possible. The two guards on duty in the public Hall made what off-the-cuff defence they could but collapsed under the withering fire of Buster Bloggs’ machine gun, itself sending shrapnel from the marble walls in every direction, causing a backlash of screaming terrified customers and a rush for the exit.
“Stand still, ya bums, or we’ll make colanders of ya’all! I want yer wallets, too!”
Dandy Nichols making light conversation to the shocked throng, some fifteen men and women, while his mates scaled the head-high wood and glass barriers to access the private area where all the secretaries and clerks performed their daily duties and, of course, where the majority of the loose cash was to be found.
A blast from a Tommy-gun having an effect in any argument way over its relatively small presence all doors, and most of the exterior safes were opened as if by magic for the intruders; cash at the serving windows disappearing into the leather sacks the thieves had handily brought with them, bundles of paper money from lightweight safes thrown in these sacks too, and even the wallets of the customers arbitrarily grabbed without resistance except for the cries of the ladies, parted from their cash without so much as a kind word.
Then Joe made his first mistake of the day.
“The deposit boxes—down there, Ripper an’ Smoky!”
The fact he used the actual monikers of his compatriots showed how far he felt safe in his actions and how little he felt compassion for the innocent victims of his unalloyed greed. But great appetites often lead to great disappointments; just so now.
The two thugs named, eager in themselves, rushed down the stairs to the underground corridor, opening fire on the guard visible at the far end of the marble lined tunnel, and received in return the last shock of their lives. From the far end came not one but four defending lines of fire, bullets scything through the air and hitting their targets with unerring accuracy, This possible because both guards were military veterans who, if nothing else, knew how to shoot and hit what they shot at; Xena and Gabrielle, meanwhile, showing that even with unfamiliar weapons they were still forces to be reckoned with. Ripper and Smoky, riddled through and through, crashed to the marble floor, deceased items in the Battle for Life without knowing what had hit them.
“Nice shooting, fella’s.” Xena giving acknowledgement where due.
Meanwhile upstairs things were going from bad to worse for the remaining robbers. Some enterprising clerk or manager, while escaping the attention of the otherwise occupied thieves, hit a silent panic button alerting the nearest Police Precinct that funny business was up and running at the Bank; then, being industrious if nothing else, hit another button automatically closing and locking the main entrance bronze doors—they so thick and strong plastic explosives would merely have scratched them. Whether this was actually a good idea with a group of nervous robbers present and now trapped whilst armed to the teeth was up for discussion—but, the heat of the moment and all!
“What the f-ckin’ Hell!” Joe seeing his day going swiftly downhill. “Someone open that dam’ door, or I’ll—I’ll—I’ll shoot every dam’ m-ther-f-cker here, so I will!”
“It’s automatic!” The voice of another, scared, manager echoing in the Great Hall. “We’ll need special codes from Head Office!”
“Where the f-ck’s that?” Joe angling for any way out of the present predicament.
“Montana.”
“F-ck’s sake!” Joe facing a dead end in more ways than one. “Grab those sacks boys, we’re leavin’, now! Where’s the nearest side entrance—an’ there better be one somewhere, f-ck it!
Another less secure exit having been quickly established, a nearby Bank manager with no less than four automatics and the nozzle of a Tommy-gun pointed directly at his throat swiftly realising that surrender was indeed the better part of valour, the four remaining robbers used it—but it didn’t get them far. More time than one imagines had been taken up with all this toing and froing, to the extent that, on exiting into the tight lane at the side of the Bank, Joe and his surviving mates found three-quarters of the local Police Force already in place awaiting their presence. The resulting gun battle was swift, all-encompassing, and ended within seconds with the entire gang taking the asphalt temperature challenge with no come-backs for good behaviour: so ended the reign of Joe Riggs and his Mob.
Meanwhile, down in the tunnel leading to the safety deposit room, things there were not going to plan either. Having disposed satisfactorily of the two approaching robbers Xena and Gabrielle turned to find themselves face to face with a wild-haired and jittery Alti, quite obviously not in a mood for light conversation with loved guests.
“Give me that f-ckin’ necklace—or I’ll—I’ll—I’ll f-ckin’ rip you both apart in’ta your individual atoms, Gods’ dam’ it!”
Knowing this was by no means an idle threat on the part of the unhinged shamaness Xena took pause to consider her options.
“Well? Hurry! Hand it over! Some kind’a a worthless warrior you are!” Alti thinking she was twisting the knife, wholly unaware she was instead only adding strength to the Princess’s iron resolve.
Xena slid her left hand in her handbag, gripping the pouch containing the jewel while with her other hand pointing at Alti with extended fingers. A shaft of deep purple light shot forth encircling the shamaness in its glow throwing her back against the far wall with a crash. A high-pitched scream, half pain half ungoverned rage, rang forth then another, brilliant yellow, light shone within the room for an instant before vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared; with its departure Xena and Gabrielle had also vanished as if never having been present in the first place.
The purple light in disappearing had released Alti who stood uncertainly regaining her breath and strength; the two guards looked shocked as if hardly understanding what was unfolding round them; Alti, regaining the strength at least to think as rationally as she ever did—which was not much—screamed again, then vanished forever from the vault leaving the two guards to make up what story they could, or felt in any way acceptable, for the Authorities.
Xena and Gabrielle found themselves, along with Bremusa and Skadi, back in their hotel room, each gasping for breath.
“There’s no time to lose.” Skadi taking command in the emergency. “We’ve got the necklace, we need to get out’ta here as quick as possible; we need to return Brisingamen to Freya before Alti regains enough strength to make another attempt at recovering it. We’ll return to our own Time and Place—Freya’s Hall, Sessrúmnir. You’ll all have returned to your former states of mind when we get there; all this knowledge of these times here will have left you again—probably for the best. Come, let’s go!”
Another flash of light and the hotel room was empty.
Chapter Twelve
Xena and Gabrielle had been guests of Freya for two days now, and tonight was going to be their going home banquet. The Great Hall of Sessrúmnir was decked out in all imaginable luxury and majesty for the parting festivities; the main Hall was built of the richest marble, of a type unknown to mortal eyes; dark blue, dark green, and dark yellow grounds infused with streaks and veins of multi-coloured shades of crimson, emerald, ultramarine, and mustard like veins of blood running through the walls and floor as if the very substance of the material making up the Hall was itself alive. Grand tables of solid gray granite hewn from bare mountains and heavy as mammoths crowded the floor, piled high with food literally of the Gods, and drink to match. White wines in crystal goblets sparkling like diamonds; red wine in beakers made from the best Samian ware pottery; yellow wines like molten gold in silver flagons; mead in double-handed kylix of a metal unknown in the Real World; and so much more.
The chairs and benches were built from red mahogany from a continent not yet discovered by ordinary folk, while the cushions were sewn with thread of pure silver and gold, stuffed with goose feathers of a quality only to be dreamed of in the Lower Lands. For food there was a variety stunning to the imagination, at least that of mere Mortals; venison from deer too beautiful to exist in earthly fields; beef from cattle long since extinct in the Lands known to Man; fish of types and of a succulence never yet discovered in Earthly seas or oceans. Birds, roast duck, roast pheasant, turkeys, pigeons, and thrush’s tongues in aspic, of a tenderness beyond description to the mortal who tasted them. Gabrielle tucked in like a Mistress of the Board, sampling as much as she possibly could, and savouring all. Xena contenting herself with a juicy gerfalcon’s wing dipped in honeywine sauce and a goblet of white Arctic ice wine.
For entertainment Freya had brought in artists from all over her realm; acrobats who could bend their frames into twisted knots that would have crippled a Human mad enough to try and copy them; singers whose voices entered the very soul of the listener, cutting through the brain like a silver knife; dancers of such brilliance Gabrielle, no slight dancer herself, gazed with jealous eye on their smooth gestures and motions. Rhetors who, in the telling of their tales to hypnotised audiences, produced worlds of the imagination so true, so meaningful, so perfect, they appeared real to the listeners.
Freya had also invited warriors of great renown as guests; warriors who would know of and appreciate meeting their Earthly counterparts of equal renown. Nor lacking were Ladies of fame and repute in their own right; women who, in their mortal lives, had accomplished wonderful things so earning the right to spend their present existences in Sessrúmnir; and Goddesses, of all levels, who themselves served and followed Freya loyally in her chosen ways.
One of whom, the far-famed Myrina, former Amazon Queen lauded in myth to this day, strode across the crowded banquet floor, pushing extraneous party-goers aside with regal unconcern, to stand before Gabrielle, grinning widely.
“Queen Gabrielle, it is my honour to meet you, greetings.”
Gabrielle, who knew precisely whom she was talking to, instantly became tongue-tied for one of the few times in her adventurous life.
“Is this not a fine banquet?” Myrina saving her compatriot and fellow Queen from further embarrassment. “All the joys of the physical World allied with those of the After-World; can there be anything more glorious or delightful? Did you really, with only two cohorts of Amazon warriors, defeat a whole Roman Legion? Yes, I know you did, of course! Tell me the details—every action that took place—after all, we have all Eternity before us now!”
The Hall was designed in such a way that, in its several sections divided by low partitions, various activities could go forward without in any way disturbing other groups of revellers who might be enjoying themselves in varying ways. Now, by Xena and Gabrielle’s table, a small select group of other former warrior women had quietly collected together to listen to this enthralling meeting between two legendary Amazon Queens from differing eras.
“It was nothing, really.” Gabrielle, as was her usual habit, attempting to wriggle out of receiving outright personal commendation for any action of hers. “My sister Amazons, and Xena of course, were at the heart of the battle, actually.”
Xena here wriggled her lips softly in a slight expression reflective of the fact she may well have had some large part in the late fight, but, Hades, it was nothing really—no-one took any notice, they all being hypnotised by the blonde Amazon Queen’s memories.
“Here, my Queen,” One young enthusiast jumping to the front in adoration. “let me refill your kylix—red wine, yes?”
“Thank you.” Gabrielle acknowledging the favour with gentle politeness. “The battle? Well, it wasn’t really a battle as such; we caught the Roman Legion literally with its pants at their assembled ankles one afternoon by the River Acheises. They’d stopped, fools that they were, for a breather—thinking the Amazons in pursuit of them were just a bunch of silly women.”
Her audience by now were listening with sharpened ears, taking in every word as if heeding to a great philosopher outlining a perfect way of Life.
“Bet they got a shock!” Queen Myrina grinning hugely at the mere thought.
“So Xena took one cohort of Amazons down their left flank while I took the other cohort of experienced warriors down the right flank. The intervening underbrush and clumps and copses of trees helped to conceal us until we were within bowshot range.”
“Ha-Ha! Good stalking.” Someone in her audience cried in delight.
“Then we set on them while half were knee-deep in the small pool they’d camped by and, as I said, the rest were half out of their clothes preparing to do the same. It was epic!”
“Killed ‘em all, of course!” Queen Myrina allowing her basic bloodthirsty heart, not in any way quelled by life in Sessrúmnir, to come to the fore as in the olden days.
“Well, no, actually.” Gabrielle admitting her faults, as a good Amazon Queen should. “We bashed most of them pretty thoroughly, and allowed those who could to ride off in disarray into the far distance out of our sight and sway—and pretty glad to do so I think they all were—naked and half-naked Roman soldiers or not. Most were auxiliaries from the Western Nations, anyway. Not really Roman at all, or particularly well-trained or experienced—you know the sort of thing.”
“A fine fight, all the same!” Myrina determined not to lose the slightest enjoyment of a good Amazon tale of success for the sake of a few minor realistic details. “Well done, Queen Gabrielle! We here salute you!”
The hearty cheers which then filled that portion of the Banqueting Hall were more than enough to bring a blush of mixed pride and embarrassment to the blonde warrior, who had no reply to hand. Looking at her paramour by her side the expression of pure loving pride reflected in those deep blue pools of Love was in itself enough to make the young Queen glad of the moment if for no other reason.
“Here is Talys!” Freya changing the mood and focus of the revellers’ ongoing pleasures with expert smoothness. “She is a young Rhetor of world fame whom I have brought to Sessrúmnir tonight to impart delight to the listeners of her tales. Will you enchant us, Talys, with a tale of the Amazon Nation in all its glory, for the Queens and warriors presently here?”
The young woman stood only around shoulder height to Gabrielle herself, but had a shock of dark chestnut hair tied by golden ringlets that gave her an outstanding air of authority. Her sweet nature shone from a round open face creased by a wide smile that looked as if permanent to her inner nature.
“Of course, My Queen!” Her voice deep and resonant with a lovely timbre that caught the attention of the listeners immediately. “Have you heard of the glorious adventures of the great Queen Penthesilea? Then let me tell the tale now. Far away, in that Land where miracles and Fantasy are forever intertwined, there was once a young girl named Penthesilea; she—”
The tale was long, involved, highly detailed, and captivating throughout its entire length—but this being Sessrúmnir, and Time being relative and of no real moment especially in these surroundings, only a bare few clepsydras seemed to have emptied their water contents before the tale drew to a close—though down in the ordinary physical world of mere mortals men and women would have grown from childhood to maturity and beyond in the interim of the tale’s telling.
“—and that is the Tale of Penthesilea!” Talys ending her speech with a grin of happiness to mighty roars of approval from her Amazon audience.
“What a story!” Gabrielle enthralled by the young Rhetor’s excellence. “Wish I could bring her to the Amazon Nation; they’d love her!”
As Freya remarked to Gabrielle at this point in the unfolding festivities—“For, in many ways, the Afterlife is the real Life!”
Xena merely nodded absently, sipping her wine abstractedly.
Then attention returned to the prime subject underpinning, all this while, the whole reason and basis behind these great festivities.
On a cleared space on the long resplendent banqueting table before which Xena and Gabrielle sat, Freya at its head, reclined on a green silk cushion the necklace itself, Brisingamen, sending out quivering shafts of light reflecting the multitudinous candles of the Great Hall as if itself imbued with powerful Life.
Freya, the entertainments coming to a close at last, smiled on Gabrielle, then turned to lean over the necklace Brisingamen; a moment later there was a light click and she turned again to the Amazon Queen.
“This is the main stone, the blue sapphire, of Brisingamen. It is the Weirdstone of Brisingamen, and it is yours, Gabrielle, now and forever; treat it with respect, use it only in pursuance of the Greater Good, and you will never go wrong. While the Weirdstone exists in your world the Amazons will never be vanquished or fall by the wayside. My gift to you and to the Amazons.”
She raised an arm and, for the two honoured guests, all around turned to emerald mist and vanished.
Postscript
An instant later, before either Xena or Gabrielle had time to find words glad enough to thank their hostess they found themselves, via a sparkling green mist that instantly evaporated after doing its duty, once more standing by the side of Baldur’s Stone at the head of Songefjord, the snekkja longboat waiting patiently by the shore as if only a single small clepsydra had drained its water in the interim of their first departure.
“We’re back!”
Gabrielle, once again stating the obvious but this time with delight and happiness. Then looking down she stared at what she still held in her hand.
“I thought I was dreaming, but here it is—the Weirdstone! Freya really gave it to me, and the Amazons. How can I possibly thank her?”
“You already have.” Xena smiling broadly. “You were responsible, in no small measure, for returning Brisingamen to her; that part of it should remain with you, deserving of it as you certainly are, is only true and right, after all. What are you going to do with it, lover?”
Gabrielle stared for a moment into the dark blue eyes of she whom she loved above all.
“Great things, Xena, great things—but only with you by my side. You will always be by my side, won’t you, dear.”
Xena looked down at the blonde Amazon’s pale face.
“Always!”
The End