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___________________ :: Continued from Page 2 :: ___________________ |
The Amazons had been moved to a large enclosure outside Alaric's camp; we found Varia there too, alive and not too badly hurt. Incongruously, the thought flashed through my mind that it was nice to have a god on one's side after all. Within minutes, the men guarding the prisoners were dead, and the women were out of their chains.
"Happy now?" Ares wasn't looking at me. "They can go back to the camp, get some horses, and be on their way."
"What about the soldiers?"
"There won't be any soldiers."
"Ares..." I opened my mouth, and suddenly realized that trying to talk Ares out of killing every one of Alaric's soldiers that he could get his hands on would be pushing it too far.
He turned. The muscles of his face were rigid; it obviously took him a supreme effort to control his rage as he waited to give it full vent.
"Gabrielle, for the next couple of hours, I'd advise you to stay out of my way. Find someplace safe and wait for me. I'll do what I have to and then - I'll take you home."
"How will you know where to..." His mocking, bitter look answered my question.
The War God vanished in a flash.
The caravan of Amazons was headed home, and the remnants of Alaric's army were running for their lives. Something made me wander back toward the castle. There were dead and dying bodies everywhere, some horribly charred, some slashed and practically cut to pieces. It looked like a battlefield, but there had been no battle here, no clash of two armies, only a killing spree by one vengeful god.
A hand clutched at my ankle, almost making me jump. Looking down, I saw a man lying on his back, his face a greenish gray, his lips trying to move, his eyes nearly out of his sockets. His stomach had been sliced open. My insides churning, I grabbed a sword that lay nearby and put him out of his misery.
I took a few more steps and stopped. A memory flooded my mind - Xena, so pale and lovely with her damp raven hair strewn on the white pillow of her bed, and Ares kneeling by her side, their newborn child nestled in the crook of his arm; Xena reaching out to put her hand on top of his and whispering, "Our child"; the quiet bliss that lit up his face. I threw my head back and howled at the sky, maddeningly bright and blue when it should have been red.
Ares was in the castle now, I could tell; smoke was billowing from some of the windows, and people were fleeing in mortal panic. Getting inside would be no easy feat. I didn't even know for sure why I wanted to get in, running the risk of getting trampled in a human stampede - and getting Ares mad by explicitly disregarding his instructions. At this moment, I wasn't sure which scared me more.
I finally managed to get inside the castle gate and through the doors.
Inside, it was pretty much what I expected. Stone floors slippery with blood; charred cavities in some of the walls and pillars where Ares' fireballs had hit; smoldering tapestries and pelts; men and women dashing madly up and down the hallways; more bodies of course, sprawled or lying in twisted heaps; more things that, with all my experience of battles, still made me look away and shudder.
As I approached the throne room, one sound amidst the cacophony was getting closer and closer: the most bloodcurdling, inhuman screams I had ever heard. I had to stop and lean on a pillar. I'm going to skin you alive... A new wave of sickness came over me with the realization that Ares had not been speaking metaphorically.
The last thing I wanted to do was go in and see if my guess was correct; besides, it wasn't a guess, I just knew with absolute certainty. I wanted to get away from that shrill sound, and my legs felt as if they were filled with jelly. But something else nagged at the back of my mind ... something else Ares had said...
"Destroy your castle... your soldiers... your spawn..."
Spawn?
My eyes fell on a young woman servant who was huddled in a corner shivering, her hands over her ears, her eyes shut, too paralyzed with terror to run. Forcing myself to move my feet, I came up to her and grabbed her shoulders. She shrieked and huddled tighter, as if trying to disappear into the wall.
"It's all right. Look at me. I'm not going to hurt you!"
She stared at me wild-eyed, gulping for air.
"It's all right, you'll be all right. Tell me something ... where are Alaric's children?"
Now, I had a purpose. I ran through the corridors and up the stairs, jumping over broken furniture, fallen statues and fallen bodies; I didn't feel dazed, tired or hungry anymore. I ran as if trying to win a race - which, in a way, I was.
Finally, I reached the doors and pushed. They were locked or barricaded from the inside. I pushed again, and heard a woman's piercing scream.
"Let me in!" I shouted.
"Go away!"
"Are the children in there? Alaric's children?"
The silence told me what I needed to know.
"Are they all right?"
After a pause, the woman - I thought it was Clothilda - asked in a more normal tone, "Who are you?"
"I'm here to help. Please open the door."
"No!" the hysteria in her voice rose once more.
"Listen to me. The children are in terrible danger and you won't keep it out with a locked door or with barricades. You have to let me in, it's your only chance." Silence. "Please! There isn't much time."
I heard the screech of some heavy object being moved away from the doors, and the click of the locks being opened. A servant ushered me in and re-locked the door; several women were going to start moving a massive mahogany chest back into place. I shook my head. "This won't help you."
"What is going on?"
Clothilda sat on a couch, trembling and very pale. I looked around me. Even the women's and children's quarters in Alaric's castle had a rugged look, with a fireplace hewn of rough gray stone and a huge brown bearskin spread on the floor in front of it. Playing on the bearskin were three young children - twin boys, about two years old, and a girl of three or four. Another girl, old enough to be in fear of her life, was clinging to her mother. The oldest boy, ten or eleven, with a striking resemblance to Alaric, stood in front of Clothilda facing me, his little hand clutching the handle of a useless dagger at his belt; he obviously felt compelled to act as the man of the house in his father's absence.
"Who's storming the castle?" Clothilda asked in a quavering voice.
I shook my head. "The castle isn't being stormed, Clothilda. It's - much worse than that. It's not an enemy army. Your husband has - done something to anger a god."
"A god?" she whispered.
"Ares, the God of War."
Clothilda reflected for a moment - she didn't seem too shocked that her husband would be the target of a god's ire - and then asked in a hushed, flat voice, "Is he dead?"
"Yes," I said. At least I hoped that by now he was.
The older boy's lips trembled, and his face tightened as he tried to fight tears. Clothilda nodded quietly; she didn't seem too heartbroken. Then her eyes drifted to the three children crawling around on the bearskin. Ashen-faced, she looked up at me.
"Clothilda." I tried to keep my voice steady. "I think Ares will try to - harm your children. You can't get away from him, you can't stop him by barricading the doors. He's a god. But there's a chance that I may be able to stop him."
"Who are you?"
"I'm his friend." The moment the words came out, I knew how absurd it sounded, and indeed Clothilda looked at me as though wondering if she had let a madwoman into her quarters. But what was I to Ares really, and he to me? I didn't have time to ponder these questions because, just then, I heard the swish of air behind me and saw the flash of light. Clothilda screamed and collapsed in a dead faint. I turned around.
In the years that Ares had been our worst enemy, I thought I'd seen him at his most fiendish -manipulative, coldly arrogant and cruel. But never, not in my most chilling nightmare, could I have imagined anything like the War God in full battle mode. He looked as though he had just stepped out of a vat of blood. The brown of his eyes was suffused with a red glow, his teeth bared in a snarl. I wondered how I could have ever considered him fully human.
The room seemed to be spinning. I'm not sure how I managed to stay on my feet, take a few deep breaths, and open my mouth to say, "Ares."
The glowing eyes flickered toward me. "Gabrielle. I told you to stay out of my way."
"I won't let you do this."
He gave a short laugh that sounded more like a bark. "You won't let me?"
I came up to him and forced myself to put my hands on his, fighting the nausea as I felt the blood coating my skin and saw the bits of brain matter stuck to his vest. He glanced down as if some annoying insect had landed on his hands, and pushed me off with a flick of a wrist.
"Ares, you have avenged her many times over."
"But still not enough."
"I know you, Ares." My voice was cracking. "I know you can be better than this."
"You know me?" His mouth curled up in a sneer. "I am the God of War, Gabrielle."
"This is not a battlefield, Ares, this isn't war - these are children. What have they done?"
His eyes narrowed. "They chose their father very badly."
"Ares, please... think of your - “
Before I could say "daughter," my jaw was gripped as though in an iron vise; I thought he was going to crush it.
"Do you want to die too?" I closed my eyes. "I'll take that as a no. Shut up and get out of my way."
He released me; I staggered back and took a look around. Clothilda was still unconscious; her maids were hiding in the corners and behind the sparse furniture. The girl had rushed over to her younger siblings and wrapped her arms around them. Alaric's eldest son was still glued to the same spot; all attempts at bravery forgotten, he was blubbering, a trickle running down his leg and gathering into a puddle at his feet.
Ares raised his hand.
The only thing I could think of was to spin around and kick, the same way I had done back in Amphipolis when he wanted me to show my moves to his students. It didn't knock him down, now that he had all his powers; but it did take him by surprise and make him lose his balance, enough to send the fireball crashing into a wall. Before he could grab me, I pushed the terrified boy toward the other children and stood in front of them, spreading out my arms. I must have looked like a cat trying to stare down a tiger, but none of those watching us would have been in a mood to appreciate the humor.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," he said through clenched teeth.
"Fine. Kill me. I'd rather die than see you do this." I had a sudden thought. "Xena would rather have died than see you do this."
His roar almost burst my eardrums, and I felt his hand close around my neck. That's it, I thought; he's going to rip my head off.
I waited for everything to go dark, but instead, light flashed and whirled around me, and then the pressure was gone from my throat. I slumped down, feeling something soft under my knees, and stayed like that with my eyes closed - I'm not sure for how long - trying to regain my breath. I could smell grass and wildflowers, and hear the chirping of birds and cicadas. Maybe I'm dead and in the Elysian Fields. . When I opened my eyes, I was looking at trees and a riverbank.
"Where are we?" My voice came out as a croak.
"About a mile from Amphipolis."
Ares was sitting down on the grass, clutching his head, slight shudders running through his body. He looked at me and his eyes were human again, and raw with pain.
"Are you hurt?"
I glanced at the bloodstains. "No, it's from - " I jerked my head toward him.
I thought I saw him wince. He closed his eyes and stiffened; in the next instant, he was completely clean, not a speck of blood anywhere.
I removed the leather pouch from my belt, took off my boots, and waded into the river. The cold water felt good, the chill jolting me back to reality. Once the water was up to my neck, I took my top off and scrubbed hard before putting it back on, then did the same with the skirt, and ducked under the water, immersing myself completely. When I got out, dripping and shivering, Ares was holding the pouch. He opened the hollowed-out dagger pendant that had earlier held his ticket back to godhood and dipped it into the ashes, filling it to the brim; then he put the top back on and closed his fingers around the ornament, sealing it shut with hair-thin currents of blue light.
He looked at me and held up his hand, his palm flat; waves of pleasant heat rolled over me, and in a minute I was dry.
"Thank you."
He nodded, staring off into the distance.
"By the way, your Amazons are all right."
"Thank you... again."
There were tiny tear drops glittering in the corners of his eyes. I thought that if I so much as touched his shoulder, the wall would break down and he would sob and wail as desperately as he had all that time ago, when he carried her out of the frozen pond and laid her body down on the snow. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to hold him or to turn around and run from him without looking back.
He got up.
"Can you walk from here to town, or do you want me to take you?"
"What about you?"
A barely visible spasm ran across his face. "There's nothing for me there."
"Ares..." I reached toward him and he stepped back. "What about Ari?"
"You can take care of her." He wasn't looking at me. "If there is anything she needs ... just call for me."
"She needs her father."
He shook his head.
"Her father was a mortal man who isn't here anymore."
I did walk back to town, steeling myself for the next task of breaking the news to Cyrene and Eve. Under the circumstances, it was actually a relief to learn that Cyrene had died two nights earlier, passing away peacefully in her sleep. As for Eve, I wasn't sure if the fact that she and Xena had never really had much of a chance to be mother and daughter lessened or worsened her anguish. We had never been very good at talking to each other. She did volunteer to stay and help me with Ari, but I encouraged her to return to her mission; I thought it would be best.
Shortly afterwards, Virgil came by. He had visited us several times since Xena and I had first returned to Amphipolis, but it was only now that we truly grew close as we grieved together - for Joxer, his beloved father and my dear friend, and for Xena, the one special person in my life, who had inspired him through his father's tales before he had ever met her. Then he came back again, and again, and in a few months we were married. Together, we ran Cyrene's tavern, held poetry readings, and raised Ariana - who was joined by our own baby boy, Philip, two years later.
Ari knew that her mother had "gone to another place," as we had told her, and would not return. Something in me rebelled against telling her that her father was gone forever; he'll be back, I told myself. The best I could come up with was that he was away at war, in distant lands. Then I began to worry that my ploy would backfire; she would start wondering why Daddy never wrote or sent her any presents, and finally feel abandoned.
Time went on, and he still wasn't back. The temple of Ares in Amphipolis, deserted for a while, did reopen about a few months after he had regained his godhood; then, a messenger came to see me one day and said that I was to receive a monthly pension from the temple, on the orders of Lord Ares himself, for services I had rendered him as a warrior. I accepted. As far as I could tell, however, none of the priests knew anything about Ares' daughter, and I certainly wanted to keep it that way. A few times, I thought of going to the temple and requesting his presence. But I never did.
And so here we are, finishing our meal. We don't talk about her dream anymore. I ask about things at school, and tell her that next month Uncle Virgil and I are going to the Grand Festival of Bards in Corinth and she'd better behave if she wants to come along. She wants to know if she can have another cookie, and I tell her all right, if she promises to go straight to bed afterwards.
Arrow sits up suddenly and starts barking. I go to the door and look outside; there's nobody there, but she's still restless, yelping and wagging her tail.
"What's gotten into you, girl?"
"Aunt Gabby?" says Ari. "There's somebody here."
"No, sweetie, I just looked, there's nobody."
"Not out there," she explains impatiently. "In here. You know how you can feel sometimes when somebody's staring at you, out in the street? Well, it's like that, I just feel it. It's like a tingly thing."
All of a sudden the room feels very cold. For some reason, she's not scared - as though being watched by an unseen presence were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Ari." I get up, trying to stop my voice from shaking. "It's getting late and I need to start cleaning up here. Can you take your cookie and go to your room and finish it there? That's a good girl."
"I don't want to be a good girl," she says gravely, but goes to her room anyway, pulling Arrow by the collar.
I'm left alone, staring at the spot where Arrow looked when she started barking.
"Ares."
I feel ridiculous.
"Ares, please show yourself. I know you're here." Of course, I reflect, maybe he's already gone. "Please, please. Talk to me."
Nothing.
Much later, I am sitting at the kitchen table alone. Arrow sleeps by the stove, her paws twitching a bit. I've tucked Ari into bed and told her a story, the one she likes so much about the Amazons and the Centaurs. Now I'm staring at a blank scroll, and thinking.
I've told many tales about Xena, the Warrior Princess who did much evil and then changed her life and did much good - and changed my life, too. I've written about some amazing feats she performed and some remarkable adventures we shared. But I have never told what may be the greatest story of all: how the fearsome god who wanted to lure her back to the darkness loved her so much that he was willing to follow her into the light; how, after trying to thwart her quest for redemption, he found at least a brief redemption (however heartily he would have scoffed at the word) in his love for her. It is widely known that the God of War turned mortal several years ago when many gods died, and that he later regained his place on Olympus; but there are only three people alive - Eve, Virgil, and I - who know how or why.
I've wanted to tell this story, though I don't think he would be pleased. I'm also not sure I can bear to tell it, at least not yet.
Putting the scroll away, I go upstairs. I should check on Ari and make sure she's not reading by candlelight again.
I push the door open. And then, in the moonlight, I see him - sitting on her bed, his hand touching her hair. She is fast asleep.
Our eyes meet; I open my mouth and he puts a finger to his lips.
There's nothing I can do to keep him from vanishing in shards of light and wisps of smoke. But he doesn't. He rises and walks toward me, follows me out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him.
We walk downstairs, still in silence. I catch myself thinking that he hasn't aged at all, and then wonder if I've lost my marbles.
He sits down, crossing his legs. Arrow wakes up and bounds toward him. Can she remember him? You never know with dogs. She's jumping up and down, tail wagging in ecstasy, paws all over his chest. He scratches her ears, smiling a half-smile, and says, "Hello, Discord."
No, no, no, I'm not going to start crying, that's a sure way to scare him off. I'll try to talk to him his way.
"Long time, no see." I try to sound as flippant as possible.
"Can't say the same about you," he chuckles.
I swallow. "You - watch me?"
"Occasionally." He sees me blush and adds, "Not that way," which makes me blush even more.
He's looking at me expectantly.
"I have a good life." Why am I sounding defensive all of a sudden?
He sighs. "You could have been a great warrior, Gabrielle."
"I still spend time with the Amazons every year." His eyelids flicker; I shouldn't have brought up the Amazons. "And I write stories and poems about - warriors." Mostly one warrior, but I'm not ready to say her name yet. "I'm giving the opening recitation at the Grand Festival in Corinth next month."
He nods, still waiting.
"So how are things with you?"
An absurd question, of course. He shrugs. "War goes on, you know." There's an awkward pause, and finally he asks, "What did you want to talk to me about?"
My next words come a total surprise to me. "I miss you, Ares." I've actually startled him; his eyebrows go up, but there's no witty rejoinder. Then I take the plunge. "Ari misses you."
He rubs his beard quietly. "She's a beautiful child."
"Ares, you should be a part of her life."
He cocks his head at me.
"And how exactly do you see this? I take her fishing at the river like all the other daddies, and go to the father-daughter dance at the town square? You want me to come over for dinner every Tuesday and Thursday? Want me to take her to Olympus on weekends and say 'Look, honey, this is where Daddy lives?' Want me to take her to work with me so she can see what I do?"
"You could come for dinner every Tuesday and Thursday."
He chuckles and shakes his head. Then he says, "Her birthday's a week from now. I have a present for her."
I feel a wild surge of joy at his words. He holds his hand up, and there's a golden shimmer in the air, forming a shape and solidifying. Suddenly, my knees feel so weak that I have to sit down. Xena's chakram. I was so sure it had been lost forever, somewhere in - that place.
"It should be hers now."
"When do little girls get started on chakrams - five, six?" "Seven and not a day sooner…"
A troubling thought occurs to me and I blurt out, "Ares… you're not… planning to groom her to be some kind of special warrior or anything like that, are you?"
His laugh is almost merry. "You still believe I'm always up to something." But he's not answering yes or no, and I'm getting a little worried. Then he says, seriously, "Gabrielle, I think Ariana will be a special warrior. But it will be her choice. I promise. I won't … interfere."
I take the chakram and slowly run my hand over it, thinking of the last time I saw it, and now I can't stop the tears from welling up.
"You know," he says, in an almost casual tone, "I did want to just - live out the rest of my days with her."
"Yes, I know." I put my hand over his, and he doesn't move it away.
"Gabrielle?"
"What?"
"Thank you."
"For taking care of Ari?"
"That too."
I look up and find myself mesmerized, as always, by that stare.
"You were right," he says. "And very brave."
He pats Arrow on the head and gets up.
"Ares, don't go yet." He's waiting. "You should kiss your daughter" - I almost say "good-bye," but then catch myself - "goodnight."
After what seems like an eternity, he turns around and goes up the stairs.
I follow him and linger in the hallway, but he leaves the door ajar and I can see. She's lying on her stomach, her breathing even and peaceful. He sits down, put his hands on her slender shoulders and gently lifts her up a little, turning her over; she mumbles and her eyelids flutter half-open, but she doesn't wake up. He runs his fingers lightly over her face, bends down and kisses her. I imagine how cool and velvety her cheek must feel under his lips, like a freshly picked peach. When he comes out, that warm, incandescent joy I saw in his eyes so long ago is back for just a second.
He stands still, and I know he's about to vanish.
"See you later, Ares."
I think I see him nod, ever so slightly, before he dissolves in a swirl of blue light.
I briefly consider going into Ari's bedroom and tucking her in, but then I know that I don't want to disturb this moment for her, even though she knows nothing about it. I come down to the kitchen and pour myself some herbal tea. Amazingly, I have a feeling I'm going to sleep well tonight.
Perhaps tomorrow, I'll wonder if it was all a dream. But no - there, on the table, is Xena's chakram. I pick it up, turn it over. In my mind, I hear her voice as she nursed her daughter: Whatever has happened between us, it couldn't have been all bad because we created this.
Some day, I will tell this story.
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