Webmaster Note: To make this story load a little easier in your browser, it has been split into several web pages. You will find the link for the next part at the end of each page.

Cover Art by Tango

Dark Revelations

by Skkye Blue

PROLOGUE

Before the reign of godly pantheons, or their forefathers, before the earth or the universe existed, there was a nothingness, a lifeless void, a sea of blackness. Moving through the nothingness was the presence of the omnipotent Creator. Unpleased with the nothingness, he formed spheres, which would sustain the life forms he wished to create and placed them in the sea of blackness. Displeased with the blackness, the Creator formed stars, which cast light on the spheres and the space around them.

To assist with his creation, the Creator formed helpers from the rays of the stars, which he called Guardians. Their numbers were as countless as the stars from which they were created. The Guardians were beings of pure light, pure thought and possessed great powers. Since they were created to live for eternity, there was no need for procreation and they existed in the male gender only.

The first of the spheres to be filled with life was the earth. After which, the Creator charged a group within the Guardians known as the Watchers with stewardship over the earth and to teach humans, the most advanced of its life forms, his teachings regarding love and goodness. The Creator then went out into the universe to fill other worlds with life as he had done the earth.

In those first few centuries, love and peace existed for all that called the earth home, the birds of the air, the creatures of the sea and the creatures who roamed the land including humanity. It was a true paradise.

But as the centuries in paradise continued to pass, the Watchers became dissatisfied with just stewardship over the earth. Craving the power of the long absent Creator, they replaced his teachings with their own and encouraged their worship as gods among the earth’s human inhabitants. Watchers took the daughters of Man as wives and began to reproduce after their own kind. Some Watchers even reproduced with their own offspring, which resulted in a race of super-beings who possessed great size and power.

Now plunged into total chaos, the earth suffered from the dark passions the Watchers awakened within humanity. The blissful paradise was replaced with the horrors of war, disease, destruction and death. Once fertile green pastures were now barren brown deserts. The earth’s lower creatures now lived in fear of humans and preyed upon each other for food.

When the Creator finally returned after his long absence and saw what had become of the earth, he was enraged. The Watchers who had fathered the super-beings were cast into the earth’s heated core where they would remain until the end of time. The Creator was greatly disturbed by this rebellion and man’s abandonment of his teachings. He went away again, leaving all of humanity at the mercy of the Watchers’ superhuman offspring.

Craving the power of their Watcher fathers, these super-beings separated themselves from their full human brothers by moving to the highest mountains of the earth. They reproduced among themselves to increase their power and eliminate any trace of human blood. They carved the earth into different territories encompassing many lands and people. Their worship was forced upon their full human brothers, over which they now governed, rewarding and punishing them at their whim.

One of the most prosperous of these territories was located along the eastern Great Sea, made up of city states known collectively as Greece. The super-beings that ruled Greece were called Titans and their King was named Kronos. It was a dark and brutal time for the mortals living in Greece. Kronos and the Titans were eventually defeated by his youngest son Zeus and thrown into the abyss of Tartarus. Zeus was crowned King, ruled over the subordinate gods and over-saw mortal events in Greece.

For almost five millennia, Zeus and the Olympian pantheon have over-seen events in the mortal world. Their authority now not only encompassed Greece, but the Italian peninsula, parts of Lydia and several islands in the eastern Great Sea. But that authority would soon be challenged by a darkness which existed long before them or the Titans. Its origins went back to the Watcher rebellion against the Creator. From it, had stemmed all darkness and evil, which had once encompassed the earth and would threaten to do so again.

CHAPTER 1

Massive trees canopied the forest in darkness allowing only slivers of moonlight to guide the robed procession to their destination and the task, which lay ahead of them. Leading the procession was a priest in a dark red robe named Cratos who regally sat atop a large gray horse. He was followed by a large wagon carrying a wooden sarcophagus which contained the remains of the one who would ensure the arrival of their lord and behind the wagon, following on foot, the most faithful to their cause.

A look of unwavering determination was etched on the face of Cratos as he led the procession through the shadowy forest. The monumental goal, which had eluded them for months, would finally take shape in the return of the great high priest that would prepare the way for the one true god.

Reaching the chosen spot, hidden from view by the dense, dark forest, the procession came to a halt and the ceremony of resurrection began.

A large full moon pierced gray-rimmed clouds. Marching from the forest shadows, two large men in black hooded robes, dragged two bound and gagged young women into the moon-glowed clearing. The faithful, standing in a circle, bowed their heads in homage. The two young women were forced to stand in the center. Wide-eyed with fear, the women struggled, unable to detach the firm grips on their thin arms. What place was this? The first woman followed the eyes of her captors.

On a rectangular slab, Cratos kneeled in quiet prayer over a small altar composed of dark oak planks. The first woman glanced at the second hoping to exchange hope then looked away. Watching Cratos kneel, the second woman suddenly started struggling harder than she ever did before. Both women had their gaze fixed on Cratos who now stood at the altar.

Placing a huge cedar bucket in the center of the altar, Cratos grinned at both women fighting their binds with all their strength. He kissed the edge of a long ivory bone-handle dagger. Moving in ritualistic stroll, he came to the first woman and roughly grabbed the back of her neck.

"By the powers of Dahak!" he shouted in an ear-piercing yell as he savagely slit her throat with the dagger.

The second woman tried to scream through her tight gags. Husky chokes exhaled the last of the first woman’s young life. Followers of Dahak swaggered in murmured prayers. While the second woman wriggled and wept, Cratos carefully directed the severed neck over the wooden bucket filling partly with streaming blood.

He shouted to Dahak again. "May forever be his reign!"

The second woman fainted, held upright only by the strong arms of her black hooded captors. Discarding the lifeless corpse of the first woman, Cratos stepped closer, seizing the neck of his next victim and repeated the brutal ritual.

Standing by the sarcophagus, Cratos removed the wooden lid while those gathered in a circle, joined hands and began a monotone chant in unison, "POWERS OF DARKNESS...POWERS OF DEATH...RESTORE THE LIFE OF OUR GREAT HIGH PRIEST."

While the followers continued their monotone chanting, Cratos held the bucket of blood over the remains in the sarcophagus and made this request. "I call on you, powers of darkness and death, with this innocent blood, restore flesh to bones, air to shriveled lungs and beats to a long stilled heart." Cratos poured the blood over the bones in the sarcophagus until they were covered. With this task completed, Cratos took his place in the circle around the sarcophagus and joined in the chanting.

Suddenly, a strong wind moved through the forest. Trees swayed under strong gusts. Dried brown leaves from the forest ground swirled in the air. The night sky was now filled with black clouds, which blanketed the full moon leaving the forest in total darkness. Those gathered, chanted faster and louder.

The blood in the sarcophagus bubbled. A red mist rose from the bubbling blood and engulfed the sarcophagus in its entirety. Then as quickly as it began, the wind ceased, the swirling leaves returned to the ground, the trees stood silent and the clouds moved on exposing the forest to the light of the full moon once again. The red mist lifted, returning the sarcophagus to view. The chanting stopped, and all gathered now stood staring at the sarcophagus.

Two flesh-covered arms gripped the sides of the sarcophagus pulling the rest of the flesh-covered body into a sitting position. The body in the sarcophagus proceeded to stand, surveying the people gathered around him. The man was of average height. He had an impressive tan muscular form. Most would say the features of his face were attractive with a sinisterness just below the surface. His hair was light brown, curly and short. His eyes were hazel, his nose somewhat broad, his lips thin and a cleft in his chin. The man stepped out of the sarcophagus. Cratos stepped forward to address him.

"Welcome back Exalted High Priest Minos, I am Cratos, your brother in the order of Dahak." He handed Minos a cloak to cover his nakedness.

Taking the cloak and still surveying his surroundings, Minos’ hazel eyes focused on the man before him. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Twelve summers your highness."

"And what of the Dark One? Has he come back yet?" Minos asked.

"No. Our attempts to free him have been disrupted by our enemies, a warrior woman in particular named Xena. That’s why we have awakened you so we will finally be victorious."

"Xena, huh?" The high priest had a look of surprise on his face. Minos had known Xena since she was a child and the last time he had seen her was when she led the villagers of Amphipolis to victory over Cortese’s army. He wondered if she would remember him. Minos had heard of her encounter with Julius Caesar and its results sending her down the path of darkness, which he always knew, was her true destiny. Now she fought for good which Minos thought was a waste. "Our enemy is strong but we are stronger and will overcome them." The gaze of his eyes hardened and filled with unwavering determination. "And when our lord arrives, with him will come a darkness no one will be able to stop."

CHAPTER 2

Jett stared at the man who had just entered the room from where he sat at a small wooden table. "Wow bro! You certainly have changed since your last visit."

"It’s the new improved me. How do you like it?" Joxer had a huge smile plastered on his face as he strutted around the small stone room, modeling his new look for his brother.

Gone was the silly looking get-up Joxer had worn on his last visit. There was no helmet or handmade armor, which got more laughter than stares of respect and fear. A sleeve-less brown shirt replaced it, along with brown leather pants and matching boots. Even his usual pasty white skin was replaced with a nice tan that complimented his new attire.

"You really look great." Jett’s eyes took in his brother’s surprise transformation.

"And check this out!" Joxer’s voice carried the excitement of a child as he quickly seated himself in the chair across from his brother. He rested an arm on the table and flexed a bicep. "Feel this."

Jett ran a hand over his brother’s bicep. "That’s some muscle tone you got there Jox. What have you been doing to get this?"

"I’ve been learning how to fight," Joxer replied with pride. "I now know how to use a staff as a weapon. I wish I could show you but no weapons are allowed in this place." Joxer looked around the stone walled room, its one barred window and the brawny guard who stood in silence by the door.

"I think it’s great you are finally learning how to fight but why now? You better not be following in my footsteps." Jett had a stern look on his face.

"I had to learn how to fight because I am Xena’s new sidekick." Joxer stuck out his chest. "I even bought a horse so we can ride side by side like a real crime-fighting duo."

"Please! You expect me to believe that!" Jett snorted. "How can you be Xena’s sidekick when she already has one, the hot little blonde?"

"Because Gabrielle died two months ago." Joxer bowed his head as his mind drifted back to that tragic day. He told Jett about Xena’s fight with Dahak’s cult and how Gabrielle gave her own life to prevent the arrival of the one great evil.

"I am sorry Joxer," Jett said softly after he heard all the tragic details. "I know how much you loved Gabrielle and it must really hurt since you never shared your feelings with her."

"That is something I will regret for the rest of my life," Joxer said softly.

"How is Xena handling with Gabrielle’s death?"

"I guess she’s handling it as best she can." Joxer shrugged his shoulders. " Xena’s always been so tight-lipped about that kind of stuff so it’s hard to tell what she is feeling."

"You mean her best friend dies, and Xena has showed no outward grief whatsoever?" Jett had a look of shock on his face.

"I wouldn’t say that...after Gabrielle fell into the lava pit, Xena collapsed in a crying heap. I had never seen her like that before...so heart-broken and lost...it really scared me," he said softly. "After that, Xena seemed to shut off her emotions and did what she had to do. She went to Poteidaia to tell Gabrielle’s family about her death. I really felt sorry for her as she stood there and let them blame her for Gabrielle’s death. But it didn’t seem to bother her at all; it was like she agreed with the awful things they said. After that, we went to the Amazon nation. I was allowed to watch the memorial service they held for Gabrielle along with some of her other men friends who were there, like Autolycus, you remember him don’t you?"

"Oh, I remember him all right," Jett replied with a touch of resentment, his thin lips twisted in a smirk.

"I thought Xena would finally open up and share the grief she had buried inside since she was surrounded by so many friends who loved Gabrielle too but no such luck. She wouldn’t even open up to Hercules. And that’s the way it’s been the past two months." Joxer had a frown on his face as he let out a weary sigh. "Gabrielle’s death is a forbidden subject where Xena is concerned so I really have no one to share my own grief with."

Joxer leaned across the table and spoke in a softer voice. "You may think this is silly, but sometimes before I go to bed at night, I talk to Gabrielle’s spirit and tell her all the things I should have when she was alive. I have even told her about the big changes I have made in my life and hope it makes her proud."

"Nah, that’s not silly," Jett said, shaking his head and waving a hand nonchalantly. "You know, they always did say, the dead can hear your thoughts and it probably gives Gabrielle peace of mind knowing the people she left behind are moving on with their lives." Jett firmly put a hand on one of his brother’s shoulders. "Since you travel with Xena on a full time basis now, you really should try to get her to open up about her feelings. Bottling up such emotions is not healthy and in her line of work, could lead to distraction which could get you both killed."

Joxer swallowed hard and stared at his brother wide-eyed. "I can’t do that!" he whined. "Gabrielle was the only person I ever knew who, despite Xena’s intimidating looks, could get her to speak about unpleasant stuff." The chair creaked as Joxer leaned back against it.

"Yeah, that’s probably too big a task even for the new improved you," Jett admitted. "I have been on the receiving end of Xena’s warrior skills and she is definitely not someone you push into doing something."

"Xena is up to her neck with people asking for her help so that should be the perfect medicine to help her get over the sadness of losing Gabrielle. Why, in the last two months, we have taken on three warlords, two slave traders and a gang of thieves." Joxer had a smile of true pride on his face. "I am meeting Xena later today in Sestos. The town is the latest victim of some young warrior named Brontes. He and his men have been terrorizing a few towns asking for protection money."

"It certainly looks like you are finally living the hero’s life you always wanted. I really am proud of you."

"Thanks." Joxer slightly bowed his head as a smile formed on his face. It really meant a lot to him to hear Jett express pride in the changes he had made in his life.

"Time’s up," the guard said in a loud monotone voice from where he stood by the door.

"Well, it looks like I gotta leave." Joxer rose from his chair. "I’ll come back to visit you real soon."

"Before you go, I have something I want to give you." As he stood, Jett removed a wrapped package from underneath the table where it had rested on his lap. "It was checked out before I wrapped it so you can go ahead and take it." Joxer accepted the package from his brother.

Before Joxer left the room, the two brothers embraced each other. "Now you take care of yourself," Jett ordered. "All of those baddies you are taking on can be pretty vicious. I know, because I use to be one of them."

"I will be careful," Joxer assured. They broke their brotherly embrace as the guard unlocked the door and Joxer left the prison.

When Joxer reached Otis, the chestnut brown gelding he had bought, he opened the package Jett had given him. Inside the package was a box of oatmeal cookies with a note...

I have been assigned to kitchen duty and made these myself! All the other prisoners loved them, so I figured I’d finally share my new talent with my brother. Enjoy!

Jett

Joxer cautiously bit into one of the cookies and was surprised it actually tasted good. He gave one to Otis who greedily accepted the cookie so he gave him another before mounting the horse and heading for Sestos.

Joxer was nibbling on the last oatmeal cookie when he finally reached the dirt-covered road, which led to Sestos. Joxer looked up at the sky. He had a few more hours of sunlight left and should reach Sestos before nightfall.

Singing birds could be heard throughout the forest as Otis rhythmically trotted down the road. Thick branches of trees on both sides shielded out most of the rays from the hot summer sun, which created shadows and cooled the soft breeze that blew along the road. Joxer quenched his thirst with the water he kept in a goatskin on the side of the saddle. He had not seen another soul for miles and was surprised when Otis slowly approached what appeared to be a body lying on the road. He thought the person might have been the victim of a robbery. Joxer dismounted Otis and slowly approached the form lying in the road. When he stood over the curled up form, he could see it was a young man, probably in his late teens and looked pretty battered. Covering his body was a tattered cloak. He poked him lightly with his staff. Getting no response, he kneeled by the young man’s side to see if he was alive. Suddenly, the youth bolted upright, hit Joxer’s arm hold the staff, knocking it from his grasp, then pulled Joxer to where his face was mere inches from his.

"Don’t move, or ya dead!" The youth had a toothless sinister grin and a wild look in his eyes. He held a dagger in his right hand and the tip of the blade touched the skin of Joxer’s throat.

"I’m not moving." Joxer tried to remain calm as he felt the dagger nicking the skin of his throat. His eyes were glued on the young man before him.

Since the cloak no longer covered the young man, Joxer could see he wore leather and some armor. On his right forearm was a large tattoo of a scorpion. Xena had told him all the warriors following Brontes had such a tattoo so the youth must be one of them. "What do you want?"

"I need your horse so I can get outta here. I had a run-in with some kickass warrior chick not far from here and I wanna be long gone before she can come after me. But she may not be so lucky when she runs into Brontes and the others. They were headed in her direction." The young warrior once again had that sinister toothless smile on his face as a snicker escaped his lips.

Joxer knew the woman the man referred to had to be Xena. And by his battered condition, she had given him a pretty good beating before he managed to escape.

"Go ahead, take the horse. Just don’t kill me." One of Joxer’s hands rested on the ground, which he had used to slowly scoop up as much dirt as he could.

"Sorry, but I gotta kill ya," the warrior sighed with a touch of regret. "If I let ya live, the others will think I’m goin’ soft."

Before the warrior could slit his throat with the dagger, Joxer quickly threw the dirt he had collected in his hand directly into the young man’s eyes.

"Ow, my eyes!" The young warrior immediately brought both hands up to his eyes to stop the burning the dirt thrown in them had caused.

Joxer had moved away from the warrior to retrieve his staff, which he now held, prepared to attack the man. Having removed some of the dirt from his eyes, restoring partial vision, the warrior stood and lunged at Joxer with the dagger. Swiftly swinging the staff, Joxer made contact with the warrior’s wrist, knocking the dagger from his grasp. Joxer followed up with a smacked to his face with the brunt of the staff in a quick swing spinning him around. The young warrior was still pretty banged up from the beating Xena had given him earlier and didn’t put up much of a defense against Joxer’s assault. When the warrior lunged at him again, Joxer poked him hard in the stomach with the staff. As he stood doubled over in pain, trying to catch his breath, Joxer viciously whacked the staff hard across his back. The young warrior howled in agony, which was quickly silenced when Joxer delivered a final swift whack to the warrior’s face, knocking him into unconsciousness on the dirt covered road.

Breathing deeply, Joxer wiped the sweat from his forehead after which, he retrieved some rope from his saddle to tie up the warrior. When the man was securely bound, he hoisted him onto Otis’ back. Joxer was on foot as he led Otis down the dirt road in the direction that Xena had last been seen.

CHAPTER 3

The sound of clashing steel broke the peaceful silence of a summer afternoon in the forest. Earlier victims of the confrontation either lay unconscious on the ground or retreated out of fear as far as their battered bodies could take them to hide safely in the dense green foliage. There were now only two combatants who continued to disturb the peaceful tranquillity. The larger of the two was a tall, muscular young warrior out to make a name for himself called Brontes. The life he had chosen had not yet scarred the handsome features of his face. He had left the army of an aging has-been warlord to form his own small band which now terrorized the villages in the area into paying for ‘so-called’ protection from other ruffians. But Brontes had plans that went far beyond the meager spoils collected from small villages. He wanted major conquests, which would have people trembling at the sound of his name and surpass the deeds of those of yesteryears. Brontes’ opponent was one of those who he had looked up to and now wanted to outshine. As he stared at his opponent, he thought about how her defeat at his hands would secure his place in history, the warrior who took out Xena, Warrior Princess.

As her sword repeatedly clashed with her opponent’s, Xena thought how much of herself at that age she saw in him, arrogant, brash, obnoxious and ambitious. For over a decade, she believed bloodshed, conquest and power would fill the hole in her heart caused by a great pain that began her journey down the dark path and earned her the title Destroyer of Nations. But three years ago, she abandoned her warlord life and now fought to protect the people who once had been her victims. The temptation to return to her former life was always there and with Gabrielle’s help, she was able to tune out its dark call. But Gabrielle was dead and she now fought her inner demons and the dark forces of this world without the spirited bard.

In the past two months, Xena had kept herself busy by taking on a whole slew of baddies just like Brontes. By the cocky look etched on his face, she could tell he was already basking in the fame he dreamed of achieving once he took her out.

Brontes mightily swung his sword at Xena’s neck and torso, which she astutely blocked, with her own powerful swings. On the last connection of their swords, both channeled all their energy into the swings trying to subdue the other. The clashing steel screeched and sparks flew in protests.

"You didn’t think some unknown like me would give you so much trouble." Brontes pressed his sword against Xena’s trying to force her back. "My advanced level of skills caught you off guard, didn’t they?"

"No one would ever accuse you of lacking self confidence." Xena let out a loud cry as she shoved Brontes and his sword away from her then delivered a hard kick to the young warrior’s face, rattling him a bit.

"Nice move but I am bigger, younger and stronger." Brontes came at her again, ferociously swinging his sword with his large muscular arms. The added power behind each swing threatened the grip Xena had on her sword as she blocked the slashes to her face, arms and midsection. Brontes let out a loud roar with the last powerful slash of his blade. The force behind it sawed Xena’s sword in half, leaving in her hand, the hilt and jagged remnants of the blade.

"Well, it looks like the power of youth has triumphed over the experience of age," Brontes boasted with a cocky smile as he continued to viciously slash his sword at Xena, now weaponless and being backed into a large tree.

As she dodged the deadly slashes of Brontes’ blade, Xena caught a quick glimpse of her chakram, which was embedded in the branch of a tree high above their heads. Earlier in their confrontation, she had thrown her chakram, which Brontes had expertly caught; a fete she had only seen Callisto do outside of herself and had to admit impressed her. Xena swiftly dodged another deadly slash of Brontes’ blade, saw an opening in his defenses and delivered a hard kick to his midsection then cut his face with the jagged remnants of her sword she still held.

The big man stumbled back, wide-eyed. "You cut me, bitch!" Brontes growled as he ran the fingers of his left hand over the torn flesh of his previously smooth and flawless left cheek. He stared at the blood covering his fingers then gazed at Xena with murderous rage.

"That’s gonna leave a nasty scar," Xena taunted with a wicked grin on her face. "Now you will fit right in with the rest of your warrior buddies."

Brontes let out a furious yell as he ferociously swung his sword at Xena. She ducked the deadly blow mere seconds before it could sever her head from her neck and the blade ended up deeply embedded in the trunk of the large tree directly behind her. Growling in frustration, Brontes struggled to dislodge his sword from the sturdy tree trunk. With Brontes’ attention elsewhere, Xena made a move to retrieve her chakram.

"Yi yi yi yi yi yi yi yi yi," she cried, while leaping into the air in the direction of the tree branch where her chakram was embedded.

When Brontes heard Xena’s war cry, he turned his attention from his stuck sword to see her leap in the air in the direction of her chakram. With one mighty pull, he was able to finally free his sword. "Oh, no you don’t!" he growled while leaping into the air.

Xena executed a somersault over the tree branch, reached out with a hand and pulled her chakram free. Before she had completely cleared the branch, Brontes’ massive body collided with hers and the branch, breaking it from the large tree, sending all three plummeting to the ground below. One of his large hands was around her throat, tightening the grip as they descended towards the ground. She slashed at his arm with her chakram, which did little to lessen his strong grip. She made an attempt to slash at his thick neck but her efforts were cut short when they hit the ground with an earth-shaking thud.

Xena’s body had absorbed most of the impact, which was intensified by Brontes’ 200+ pound frame on top of her, doubling and spinning her vision. Her hold on the chakram was broken when they hit the ground and the weapon rolled away to be hidden in the thick grass. She weakly tried to remove his hand from her throat before he knocked her into unconsciousness with the brunt of his sword.

Panting heavily, Brontes stared at her unconscious face already starting to bruise from where he had hit her with the sword. "I have to give you credit, you are a pretty tough babe." He ran a finger through her hair. Brontes didn’t know if Xena could hear him or not but he continued to talk to her unconscious form anyway because he was just that cocky. "I use to look up to you until you got tired of being a warlord and decided to be a hero. It made my stomach turn hearing how you now championed justice and traveled with some ‘goody goody’ bard chick. Some of your old warlord buddies rejoiced and I along with them, when word spread about the death of your little friend in your fight against Dahak. We thought the old Xena, the Destroyer of Nations, would return and bring death and destruction to the land again and power to all warlords." Brontes shook his head with disappointment and disgust as he continued. "Traveling with that bard made you soft and weak. And you have remained that way even after her death, what a waste. But your name still carries a lot of respect and that can help me when it is known all over Greece that I am the one who took out the warrior princess." He shifted his hulking weight atop her body. "Boy, they weren’t kidding when they said how hot you looked." He stared at her unconscious face with lust in his eyes. "Before I kill you, I might as well see what it’s like to make it with the warrior princess." One of his large hands had made its way under her leather skirt and now rested on her undergarment, ready to rip it off.

The brunt of Brontes’ sword had knocked Xena into unconsciousness but not for very long. Keeping her eyes closed after regaining consciousness, she listened to the young warrior’s diatribes. He made a big mistake when he brought up Gabrielle’s death. Lying there with her eyes closed and hearing his words brought back the images of her best friend’s death, which still haunted her. With the images, came all the pain, the anger, the rage that had been swelling up inside her the past two months and now was about to be unleashed.

When Xena felt Brontes’ hand on her crotch, she immediately opened her eyes. His face was descending toward hers for a kiss and he was taken completely off guard when she took his nose in her mouth and bit down hard. He screamed out in pain as his body jerked atop her. One of her hands found the growing bulge in his crotch and squeezed it viciously, taking his screams up a few octaves. Letting out a yell of her own, Xena tossed Brontes’ 200+ pound body off her as she quickly stood to face him. The big man was on his knees; one hand rubbing his teeth-marked nose while the other covered his injured crotch.

"I’m not some defenseless village maiden, who will be taken by force!" Xena now stood a few feet away from the kneeling and now speechless warrior upstart. "You had so much to say a few seconds ago. Did you lose your voice when I crushed your manhood in my hand?"

"I’m going to enjoy killing you bitch!" Brontes’ face had reddened and a vein stood out on his large neck.

"Well, come and get me," Xena taunted with a wild look in her eyes as she increased the distance between them. "And you shouldn’t need this." One of her hands had been behind her back, which she now made visible to him. In her hand was his sword, which she had retrieved, unnoticed by him. She hurled the sword at a tree where it embedded itself.

Brontes let out a loud roar as he took off from his kneeling position charging right for Xena. She issued a yell of her own when she leaped over his head. Putting the breaks on his powerful charge, he quickly turned to try again. But she had already returned to the ground and quickly delivered several hard punches to his jaw, which staggered the big man.

"Do you still think I’ve gone soft?" Xena delivered a hard kick to his midsection then another punch to his face. Weaving and wobbling, Brontes managed to stay on his feet. He weakly threw a punch at her. Easily dodging the feeble assault, Xena grabbed his arm and hurled him backward into a tree. Brontes slumped to the ground after his contact with the large unmovable object. "Not bad for a washed up ol’ has-been wouldn’t you say?" Xena asked as she stood some feet in front of him. The wild look that was in her eyes earlier now had a cold hardness to it.

Shaking his head to regain some focus, Brontes stared at Xena from his slumped position against the tree. The only evidence of their intense battle on her person was the bruise on her face where he had earlier hit her with his sword. She also showed no signs of injury from her hard impact with the ground in that earlier fall. If anything, she seemed to have grown stronger since that incident. He, on the other hand, was the worse for wear. He could feel a sting in his cheek from the torn flesh and his ribs were sore from her hard kicks. His left arm had cuts inflicted by her chakram. He leaned over to spit out blood and a few teeth her hard punches had knocked loose. The branch they had earlier dislodged from a tree was lying next to him. He grasped it firmly in his right hand when he stood to face Xena again.

"Well, the babe is tougher than you thought and you need a weapon after all," Xena stated as Brontes came at her swinging the large branch with as much force as he could muster from his battered body.

Xena ducked the first swing and delivered a hard blow to his back. She halted his next swing with a hard kick to his bruised ribs, which staggered him back. She delivered another kick, which connected hard with his right wrist, knocking the large branch from his grasp. Before the branch could hit the ground, Xena caught it in her right hand, fiercely swung it making harsh contact with Brontes’ face, breaking his nose in the process. She shoved the large branch hard into the big man’s stomach, stumbling him back into that earlier large tree.

"You cocky punk! You should have killed me when you had the chance!" Xena hit the ground hard with the large branch she still held snapping it in two. She hurled the piece still in her hand into some bushes as she approached Brontes who only remained upright because of the tree behind him.

The big man made a feeble attempt to attack Xena, which was halted by a hard knee to his groin, slumping him back against the tree. She delivered several backhands to his once handsome face almost knocking him into unconsciousness. She grasped his large neck with a hand as she stared into his glazed over eyes.

"If my friend, whose death you rejoiced over was here, she would say you have suffered enough and want me to stop and I would have listened to her." Brontes coughed as she tightened the grip on his large neck. "But she is not among the living any more and right now, that is more of a pity for you." Xena formed a fist, and pulled back, ready to continue her assault on the fallen warrior.

**********

As Joxer continued his journey down the dirt-covered road leading Otis with his bound, unconscious prisoner lying across the horse’s back, he was glad he now had some friendlier company. Walking next to him, leading his own horse, was a young man named Pythias who was from the town of Sestos, which Brontes and his men had been terrorizing. Some of the town’s residents had decided to venture into the forest to take on Brontes’ band of terrorists. Pythias had gotten separated from the small group and was trying to find the others when he came upon Joxer. He filled Pythias in on his confrontation with the unconscious man atop his horse and now they both headed in the direction the man had said he had last seen Xena.

They had been traveling in silence when Joxer heard Xena’s familiar war cry not that far ahead of them. They picked up speed and stopped when they came to a partial clearing just some distance from the dirt-covered road. Joxer spotted Argo standing just on the outskirts of the clearing. He saw Xena standing in front of a large tree and she appeared to be pummeling unmercifully a warrior slumped against the tree.

"Stay here Pythias." Holding his staff firmly in his right hand, Joxer took off in the direction of the clearing.

As he ran towards Xena, Joxer saw the unconscious bodies of warriors lying in the grass. They must be some of Brontes’ men he thought. And the big man slumped unconscious against the large tree, who Xena continued to pummel, must be their leader Brontes.

Joxer thought Xena was beating a dead man because he looked to be in such bad shape. The tough warrior was reduced to a broken heap as Xena continued to pound his blood-covered face. When Joxer stood a few feet away from the two, he could see movement in the fallen warrior’s chest indicating he was still alive but he wouldn’t be much longer if Xena continued her vicious assault on him.

"Brontes is out cold, Xena. You can stop hitting him."

"Back off Joxer!"

The tone of her voice somewhat frightened him but if he didn’t stop her, she would surely end the man’s life.

"Xena, you could kill him."

She ignored Joxer’s words as she continued to pummel the fallen man’s face.

Joxer took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. Firmly holding the staff, he approached Xena and swung the staff at the back of her head. But before the staff could make contact with her head, Xena grasped the end firmly in her right hand as she turned to face Joxer. The hard look in her eyes somewhat frightened him. She viciously yanked the staff from his grasp and threw it some distance from them.

Joxer was very scared now and tried not to voice it when he spoke. "You left me no choice Xena. Brontes is unconscious but you seem ready to kill him anyway." Xena silently stood there staring at him with a hard look. "We have to take him to Sestos and turn him over to the magistrate." Joxer made a move towards Brontes which Xena halted by roughly grabbing one of his arms.

"Taking him to Sestos will only delay the inevitable which I can take care of right here."

"You don’t know that Xena." A chill went down Joxer’s spine upon hearing her response. "Brontes deserves a trial."

"Brontes deserves death!" she snapped. "He’s never going to change. I know, I use to be just like him and in many ways still am."

"You are not like Brontes anymore. You have changed."

"Have I really?" There was a wicked gleam in her eyes, which bore into Joxer. "Now leave me so I can finish what I started." Xena turned her attention to Brontes once again.

"But Xena..."

That was all Joxer was able to say before Xena grabbed him by the throat with her left hand covered in Brontes’ blood. "Are you deaf??!!" she yelled as she backhanded him across the face, leaving a smear of the fallen man’s blood on one of his cheeks. "Go away!!" She hurled him some distance from her. He landed on the grass with a resounding thud. Xena spotted her chakram in the grass and retrieved it before getting back to Brontes.

She held the chakram in her right hand, poised to viciously slice the large neck of the unconscious man, which would put a quick end to his life, when she heard a voice in her head. "Promise me Xena, if I die, you will not become a monster again." Xena stopped the approach of her chakram towards Brontes’ throat as she shook her head to clear the voice from her mind. When she no longer heard the voice, she went for the unconscious man’s throat with her chakram again. Once more, she heard the voice repeat that same phrase continuously in her head.

"Gabrielle," she whispered. Xena suddenly felt light-headed and leaned an arm against the tree on which Brontes was slumped against. She leaned against the tree a few moments more before hooking the chakram on her waist and standing up straight. She looked at her hands, which were covered in blood. She looked at Brontes, slumped unconscious against the tree in a bloody heap. Then she looked to where she had thrown Joxer. He sat in the grass with a young man kneeling by his side. His neck and face were smeared with Brontes’ blood where she had grabbed and smacked him. A trickle of blood fell from one of his nostrils. Had she hit him that hard?

"What’s happening to me?" she asked softly while looking around her. "I gotta get out of here." She let out a loud cry as she ran towards Argo, did a somersault in the air and landed on the mare’s back. She let out another yell as she hit the mare’s sides with her boots urging the horse to take off quickly.

"Xena wait! Don’t leave!" Joxer yelled as Pythias was helping him to his feet. Both men watched as Xena quickly rode by them and headed down the dirt road leaving a cloud of dust behind her.

CHAPTER 4

Faster and faster Argo galloped at Xena’s insistent urgings. She hoped the faster they went the dark images now clouding her mind would disappear but they didn’t. The images, which had haunted her sleep these last two months, were now here, in her waking hours. She saw Gabrielle’s face as she stood embracing Hope then she fell into the lava pit. Xena now had a view inside the fiery pit and heard Gabrielle cry out her name one last time before a ball of fire clouded her from sight forever. Xena tightly closed her eyes as tears formed around the edges. When she opened her eyes, she saw the grassy clearing she had just left. She saw Brontes’ bloodied, pulverized face and battered body. She also saw Joxer whose face was covered in blood as he looked at her in fear. Xena once again heard Gabrielle’s voice begging her not to become a monster. Tightly closing her eyes, she urged Argo to go even faster.

Argo had been galloping at top speed for some time now, so her golden body was soaked with sweat. Not wanting Argo to collapse from exhaustion in the summer heat, Xena slowed her down and eventually brought her to a stop where the road made a flowing river visible to view.

Xena dismounted Argo, took hold of her reins and led her down to the river’s edge. The mare greedily lapped the water to quench her thirst. As she watched Argo find relief from the summer heat in the cool waters of the river, Xena wished she could find relief from the sweltering anger she felt within.

Brontes’ talk of Gabrielle’s death brought to the surface all the pain, anger and fear she had buried within her the last two months. She wondered if she would ever be able to contain it again. There was a large uprooted tree lying near the river, which Xena went to, leaned her arms against it, and bowed her head.

"Why did you do it Gabrielle?" she whispered. "Why did you have to die?" she said in a low voice. "WHHHHHHHHHY?" she yelled at the top of her lungs as she raised her head to the heavens. Her voice echoing through the forest, shattering the silence of the late afternoon.

"I was the one who was suppose to die not you !" she screamed as she began pounding her fists on the fallen tree before her. "You could have handled my death. You were always the stronger one." She pounded her fists harder against the fallen tree, its rough bark slicing her hands. "You were my soul, my better half and when you died, all the good in my life went with you." With her last words, she collapsed on the ground in a sobbing heap as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

It was the first time she had cried since that tragic day in Dahak’s temple two months ago. Since that day, she had buried her grief deep inside and appeared as sturdy as a rock. She had refused to share her feelings with Joxer or the others that mourned Gabrielle’s passing.

Xena had chosen to go on with her life by burying herself in the good she started with Gabrielle. But her heart was not in it anymore and it was starting to show. When she dug deep within her soul, she could not find any of the good she learned from Gabrielle but only the demons of her pasts and it scared her.

What she feared most and had tried to prevent for the past two months had happened that day. The pain, anger and rage had slipped through the wall she had built up and along with them, her dark self. Brontes may have been a warrior but he was unconscious and completely defenseless when she tried to end his life. The next time, it may not be a warrior but some poor, defenseless villager. And what about Joxer? He had been with her the whole time during the bumpy journey the past two months - Dahak’s temple, Poteidaia, the Amazon nation, all her bad moods, the deafening silence and now this. Joxer had made changes in his life that would have made Gabrielle proud but she would not be proud of the behavior of her best friend.

Xena got up from where she laid by the fallen tree, went down to the flowing river and knelt by its edge. She rubbed her hands in the cool water, washing away Brontes’ blood and also her own thanks to the pounding her hands had received on the rough bark of the fallen tree. She splashed some water on her face and ran her wet fingers through her hair. With her focus so shattered and the demons of her past threatening to take control again, Xena knew she could no longer continue the good she started with Gabrielle without putting innocent people at risk. Maybe if she went somewhere that had always brought her peace, she could find her focus again and continue the good like Gabrielle would have wanted. But first, she had to find Joxer. She owed him an apology and she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with her again but she was determined to speak her peace. Xena mounted Argo who began a slow trot down the dirt road. She figured Joxer would take Brontes to Sestos so that’s where she headed.

**********

An orange red hue painted the sky as day bowed to the coming night. Finally arriving in Sestos, Xena brought Argo to a stop outside a small stone structure with barred windows, dismounted and went inside. She immediately noticed the jail cells which had been empty that morning when she spoke with Cadmus, the town magistrate, were now filled with the surviving members of Brontes’ gang.

Battered and bruised, they gazed at her with hatred as their minds recalled their disastrous confrontation with her earlier that day. In a cell by himself, laid Brontes on a mattress of hay. Xena slowly approached his cell to get a better look at him. His swollen pulverized face was covered in bandages and one of his arms was in a sling. His breathing was labored, as he appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"Despite the beating you gave him, he’s gonna live," a voice said with a touch of disappointment from the other side of the room.

Xena quickly turned to see who had spoken. At a desk piled high with a stack of parchment sheets, sat a young man. As Xena walked over to the desk, she immediately recognized the man as the one she had seen that afternoon kneeling by Joxer’s side when she abruptly took off.

"I know Joxer will be glad to see you, Xena. He has been filled with worry ever since you took off like you did." There was a look of anger on the young man’s face with his last statement. "My name is Pythias," he said when she stood on the other side of the desk.

"Where can I find Joxer now?" Xena ignored the young man’s anger that was clearly directed at her after what he saw her do to Joxer that afternoon.

"Cadmus took him to Chloe’s Inn and Tavern to celebrate the capture of Brontes and his gang."

"Thanks," Xena said softly as she turned to leave the jail.

"Joxer is certainly more understanding than me," Pythias said with a slightly raised voice to Xena’s departing form. "You may want to wallop me after you hear what I say but I don’t care."

Xena stopped dead in her tracks and turned to stare at Pythias.

"Just because you are some hot shot hero doesn’t give you the right to slap people around, especially those you claim to be your friends."

Xena came back over to the desk and stood with her hands leaning on it. Despite what he had earlier said about not caring if Xena hit him for his comments, Pythias had a look of fear on his face as he stared at her.

"You’re right. My behavior was inexcusable and I hope when Joxer hears my apology, he can find it in his heart to forgive me." She then left the jail, headed for Chloe’s Inn and Tavern.

Chloe’s was filled with many residents of Sestos celebrating the capture of Brontes and his gang. Xena scanned the gathered multitude looking for Joxer.

"Xena! I’m glad you finally got here," Cadmus bellowed as he stumbled towards her, clearly drunk from celebrating.

"I was told Joxer was here with you, where is he?" Xena did her best to ignore Cadmus’ ale laden breath.

"For some reason, he didn’t feel much like celebratin’ so he went to the room we set aside for him upstairs," Cadmus replied, after which he let out a loud burp. "You’re gonna stay and celebrate with us aren’t you?" He grabbed one of her arms to halt her departure.

"Maybe later, but first I must speak with Joxer." Xena gently removed her arm from his grasp.

"Well, his room is at the top of the stairs, on your right," Cadmus said after which he collapsed in a chair directly behind him.

Xena left the gathering and headed up the wooden stairs. When she stood outside the door of Joxer’s room, she took a deep breath before hesitantly knocking on it.

"Who is it?" Joxer asked from inside the room.

"It’s me...Xena. May I come in?"

She heard him unlock the door, then open it, standing just on the other side as she walked into the room. After he closed the door, Joxer stood next to the bed near the door while Xena stood next to a small table in the room. His face and neck were clean of the blood smears. No bruise or mark was on his cheek from where he had earlier received one of her hard backhands, which greatly relieved Xena.

"Joxer, I am so sorry I hit you. I was angry with Brontes, then I took it out on you. I didn’t hurt you did I?"

"My head has been smacked around so many times from me falling over my own feet, so no, you didn’t hurt me," Joxer said with a slight chuckle. "I am new to this hero stuff and should not have interfered. You have a lot more experience and knew what you were doing."

"That’s where you are wrong Joxer. I lost sight of what I was suppose to be doing and would have committed cold blooded murder if you hadn’t arrived when you did."

Joxer was truly surprised by Xena’s admission. "You may have wanted to kill Brontes but you didn’t and that is the most important thing," he said. "Ya know, when I was talking to Jett about you earlier today, he said something like this could happen. You hide your feelings about Gabrielle’s death…you won’t talk about them with me or anyone else…and then there’s the sleepless nights, it’s really not..."

"I didn’t come here for a psycho-analysis Joxer," Xena angrily interjected. "I only came here to express how truly sorry I am for hitting you, now I’m leaving." She headed past Joxer for the door.

"Xena wait, don’t leave." Joxer grabbed one of her arms, realized whose arm he had grabbed and quickly let her go. "Please stay. I promise not to do any more analyzing."

Xena halted her approach towards the door and went to stand by the only window in Joxer’s room and gazed out at the rolling hills in the distance outside of Sestos. "I have to go away for awhile Joxer," she said wearily. "My actions this afternoon made me realize my focus to continue the good I started with Gabrielle has been smashed to pieces. I have to find a way to regain that focus, if that is at all possible."

"Where will you go?" Joxer softly asked.

"I was thinking of going home to Amphipolis," Xena replied as she turned to face him. "I was always able to find peace, a sense of calmness there and that is just what I need to regain my focus again."

"Would you mind if I tagged along?"

"I don’t mind. But I don’t know why after the way I have treated you."

"Friends aren’t just there in good times Xena. The real test is sticking it out through the bad times."

Xena walked over to stand in front of Joxer. "Thanks." Her lips transformed into a faint smile as she put a hand on one of his shoulders. "I want to get to Amphipolis within the week so we should leave tomorrow."

"Can’t we stay a couple more days?" Joxer pleaded. "The people of Sestos are so grateful you freed their village from Brontes’ terror, they want to throw a banquet in your honor tomorrow."

Xena let out a weary groan. "You know how I hate that kind of stuff Joxer."

"I know you do, but it would mean so much to the people of Sestos to show their thanks in some small way. They even have a room ready for you across the hall from mine."

"All right, I will stay the next couple days, but then we leave for Amphipolis."

"That’s all I’m asking," Joxer said with a smile. "You look tired, why don’t you go to your room and I will have a barmaid bring some food up to you."

"That’s okay Joxer, I’m not hungry. I would like to go to my room but I have to get Argo settled in the stables first."

"I can do that. You go ahead to your room and get some rest."

"I really don’t deserve a friend like you Joxer." She gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze before quietly leaving his room and heading for hers across the hall.

After Xena’s departure, Joxer left his room and headed out of the tavern to get Argo settled in the town’s stables. While he was removing the saddle from Argo’s back and settling her in the stall next to Otis’, he decided when they reached Amphipolis, he would speak to Xena’s mother privately about her mental state these past two months. He knew Xena really needed to unburden herself of all the pent-up emotions she had been holding in since Gabrielle’s death. Earlier events of that day re-enforced what he had told his brother about him clearly not being the person who could get Xena to deal with her grief and pain. He now believed Cyrene was the one person who could do just that.

CHAPTER 5

It had been one month since the successful resurrection of exalted high priest Minos. And during that month, Minos orchestrated a plan to free his dark lord from his fiery prison without interference from their enemies. Everything was done with the utmost discretion. Followers had roamed throughout Greece collecting people to be used for sacrifices to free Dahak. The disappearances of these people could not draw attention, so only those with no family connections were chosen, the village beggar, the homeless orphan, the stranger in town, the shunned prostitute. These people could disappear and no one would care enough to ask questions.

When enough sacrifices had been collected, Minos gathered the followers on the isle of Thera, near the volcanic mountains called Santorini. In the past few weeks, there had been enough small eruptions to frighten the isle’s resident into leaving. This left the isle deserted and the perfect place to hold the arrival ceremony for Dahak.

The gathering took place at a temple discovered by Minos in the island’s mountains. It was abandoned to ruin long ago due to the volatility of its location in the volcanic mountain range. The once white marble was now gray due to volcanic ash and along the floor was a huge crack, which almost divided the temple in two. The condition of the temple was of little concern to those gathered. All that mattered was the triumphant return of their dark lord without interruptions from their enemies.

As the blood red-orange sun bowed to the darkness of the coming night, the ceremony for the arrival of Dahak began. Large drums belted out a rhythmic beat to celebrate the arrival of their lord as scantily clad, masked girls danced erotically about the hall. The light from the torches throughout the temple glistened off their exposed flesh adding to the sensuality of their dance. As the dancing continued, followers gathered in red hooded robes, which seemed the color of blood when struck by the illumination of the torches.

Standing center stage, in front of the multitude and wearing a black robe was Minos. On his face was etched a sinister smile of triumph. His month of hard work was finally coming to fruition in this ceremony that would free Dahak from his prison. With his arrival, the world would enter an age of darkness, which would bless the faithful and smite their enemies. Minos raised his arms to announce the start of the ceremony. The drums and dancing ceased as all eyes fell on him.

"My brothers and sisters, the sweat of our hard work this past month will finally take form with the coming of our lord. Bring forth the sacrifices."

Two tall beefy men in red hooded robes opened the door to a cage covered wagon sitting inside the large hall and ushered out fifty sacrifices consisting of men, women and children. After a month of captivity, all were a bit thin, in rags with their hands bound in front of them. The women in the group screamed in fear and cried while children with dirty tear stained faces cried out for their long dead parents. Some of the men were gaunt, frail beggars who bowed their heads and accepted their fate, while those with a little fight left in them tried to break free but were beaten into submission by their robed captors and dragged along to the dark fate which awaited them.

As the sacrifices were assembled before Dahak’s followers, Minos gazed on them with a comforting smile as he addressed them. "You people should not be frightened by death. You should feel honored your innocent blood will sanctify the arrival of the true master of this world."

As the followers bowed their heads, Minos raised his head towards the temple’s ceiling and called on the dark forces of this world. "Powers of darkness, we, the humble servants of Dahak, call on you to use our bodies as vessels to praise the Dark One and sanctify this holy ground."

Suddenly, a strong howling wind moved through the temple causing the torches to flicker and some to be extinguished. Some of the intended sacrifices screamed in fear. The strong wind swirled around all in the temple for a moment then dissolved.

Minos lowered his head and pulled back the hood of his robe exposing his face and fiery red eyes. "Let the sacrifices begin!" he bellowed with insidious glee to those gathered in front of him.

Followers raised their bowed heads and pulled down the hoods of their robes revealing fiery red eyes, which matched those of Minos. From the sleeves of their robes, each retrieved a dagger and went for the bound people before them. The scene, which followed, was sheer terror. Some captives screamed. Some ran for their lives only to be caught by followers overtaken by the powers of darkness and bloodlust. That dark night, fifty men, women and children had their throats cut open and their lives’ blood spilled to free Dahak from his fiery prison. Streaks of blood marred the faces of Dahak’s faithful, covered their hands and deepened the color of the red robes they wore. The massive amount of spilt blood covered the entire floor of the temple’s main hall, even filling the crack, which ran the floor’s length.

As the spilt blood filled the crack in the floor, the temple shook from the eruptions of nearby volcanoes. Loosened stones fell from the ceiling and the ceremony’s participants had to run for safety. The crack in the temple floor expanded, exposing lava boiling just below the surface. As the temple continued to shake, the boiling lava increased in its intensity, catapulting a huge lava ball from its depths, which landed on the temple floor. Abruptly, the temple stopped shaking, the crack in the floor closed and all was quiet. No longer fearful of falling stones, the followers stepped from their hiding places to inspect the scene.

The huge orange-red lava ball gave off a light of its own in the now dimly lit temple. It also generated an unbearable heat, which kept those gathered at a distance. The fiery ball began to pulsate, mesmerizing all that gazed on it. As the pulsating increased in intensity, the lava ball grew brighter forcing all gathered to shield their eyes. Blood staining the temple floor was drawn to the large ball like lead to a magnet and soon the floor was as it had been before the bloody massacre. Now with a bright red hue caused by the absorption of blood, the large ball continued to pulsate and emit a blinding glow as it began to shrink in size, taking on a form, which appeared human. Soon after, the pulsating stopped and the glow dimmed to non-existence. When everyone unshielded their eyes, there appeared to be a man standing before them with his eyes closed. He was very tall, bald, with greenish brown scaly skin which covered his slender muscular body. When he opened his eyes, they were yellow in color with red slits instead of black round pupils.

"Welcome back lord Dahak." Minos fell to his knees and bowed before the being in front of him. The others gathered mimicked Minos’ movements.

Dahak gazed upon all those before him until finally focusing on the exalted high priest. "Arise Minos," he said in a deep raspy voice.

Minos did as ordered. When he stood facing Dahak, he took the black hooded cloak he held in his hands and covered his dark lord with it. Minos turned to face the multitude before him. "Lord Dahak is proud of tonight’s triumph but now he must meditate. He wants you to remain here and celebrate his glorious return."

Those gathered rose from their kneeling positions and shouted in unison, "GLORY TO DAHAK! GLORY TO OUR LORD!" The music began again, followed by dance of celebration. Minos and Dahak left the festivities and proceeded to a small room off the main hall of the temple.

Once inside the small room, Dahak walked around, running his scaly hands over his arms and chest covered by the black cloak. "It feels so good to have a body again," he said in a pleased raspy voice. Minos smiled as he gazed at his dark lord who reveled in the feel of the stone floor against feet and the material of the cloak against his body. There was a clouded old mirror hanging on a wall, in front of which Dahak now stood.

"Forgive me Dark One, I forgot to have one of the faithful remove that before your arrival."

"It’s all right," Dahak assured. "I usually don’t like to see myself when I am in this state but after so many years without a body, I am just relieved to be flesh again." He was still gazing at the reflection of his serpent-like face in the old mirror. "Has there been any news about Hope?" His gaze was now fixed on his closest confidant.

"No, my lord. She must be dead," Minos softly replied.

"She is not dead," Dahak firmly stated. "I can feel her life-force. Continue the search until she is found."

"Yes my lord. Anything else?"

"Now that I am back, we can set about freeing the others. With their legions and the faithful, I will establish my kingdom again which will sweep the earth bringing death and destruction to those who stand in the way."

"It shall be as you wish Dark One," Minos stated with a sinister smile. He left the small room and let his dark lord meditate.

After Minos left, Dahak sat in the only chair in the small room. He closed his eyes and began to rebuild his strength for the laborious task of reclaiming his true form.

CHAPTER 6

Castor had chosen to live alone, secluded in the dark forest. This was his own self-imposed punishment to atone for the horrible crimes he had committed in the past. But about three months ago, he was given a reprieve when a mysterious young woman walked out of the forest and into his life...

It was a stormy, rainy night and Castor was bundled up in his bed when he heard frantic knocking at his cottage door. When he went to the door and opened it, a small woman in a red robe drenched to the bone collapsed in his arms unconscious. He carried her to his bed then stoked the fire to build heat. He returned to the woman lying on the bed to get a better look at her. Her hair was the color of fire. Her skin was as white as snow and ice cold to the touch. He felt for a pulse and was relieved to know she was still alive. When he began to remove her wet clothing, he discovered she was in the advance stages of pregnancy. He bundled her up in his bed while he tried to sleep in a chair by the fire.

At daybreak, Castor was awakened by the woman’s screams of pain. When he tried to approach her, she looked at him with fear and screamed, "Stay away from me! Don’t you dare touch me!" She clutched her swollen abdomen and screamed as her body was hit with another pain.

Castor stopped his approach towards the bed. "Look, I’m not going to hurt you," he said calmly. "My name is Castor. You collapsed on my doorstep last night and I took you into my cottage." Castor began to slowly approach the bed. "That pain you are feeling probably means your baby will be born soon."

"Don’t come any closer!" the woman yelled. She doubled over in pain on the bed. "Oh, it hurts so much," she groaned as she began to cry.

Castor was only a few feet from the bed. "Your baby is coming and you are obviously very scared." He had slowly started moving again and now stood at the foot of the bed. "I do have some experience delivering babies so let me help you." When the woman didn’t answer him, Castor came around to the side of the bed. The woman had her back to him and was crying. Castor sat on the bed and gently touched her shoulder.

"Please help me," she whispered in a soft voice.

Castor quickly went about preparing what he would need for the delivery. The woman was in tremendous pain and very frightened so Castor did his best to calm her down so she could follow his instructions on bringing her baby into the world. It was a hard delivery but the baby was finally born, took its first breaths and began to cry. Castor wrapped the small form in a blanket and handed it to its mother. She was exhausted but eagerly accepted the small bundle. The baby had a full head of curly auburn hair. Its face looked so innocent, the makings of eyebrows, blue eyes like all newborns, a small button nose and a bow shaped mouth. Its skin was rosy in color and stood out in stark contrast to the white blanket in which it was wrapped. The mother carefully unwrapped the blanket to check the sex of the baby. She cried tears of joy when she saw it was a girl. She looked into the baby’s small face and said, "I will call you Phaedra."

"That’s a pretty name," Castor said.

"It means bright one and she certainly is the light in my life," the woman said while smiling down at the baby’s tiny face.

Castor smiled at the scene before him. "I know your daughter’s name, now can you tell me yours?"

"My name is Hope," she replied, not taking her eyes off the bundle in her arms.

After Phaedra’s birth, Castor had many questions for Hope. Why was she wandering in the forest in her delicate condition? Where was she from? Did she have any family who would be looking for her? Castor figured he’d let Hope tell her story in her own time. But that quickly changed when he saw how fast baby Phaedra was growing. One week after her birth, she was the age of a toddler! Hope was reluctant to tell him anything but his persistence finally wore her down. She told him her father was a god making her a demigoddess. She went on to tell him baby Phaedra’s father was a god as well. Hope had barely survived a terrible accident, which killed all the others she was traveling with and now needed a place where she and her child could stay until she figured out what they would do next.

Castor wasn’t Greek, but he was quite familiar with the stories detailing the escapades of their gods so Hope’s story about her connection to them gave a valid explanation for Phaedra’s rapid growth. He knew there was a great story behind Hope’s mysterious journey through the forest but decided not to push for more details at the moment. It was obviously a very traumatic experience and whatever had happened would be revealed when she was ready and not before. She and Phaedra were welcome to stay with him as long as they liked. Besides, he had forgotten what it was like to be around other people and it felt good.

As the pair’s stay turned into weeks, Castor could clearly see Hope truly adored Phaedra. She doted on the little girl constantly. She was grateful for what he had done for her and Phaedra but she kept her distance from him. When Castor insisted she do chores around the cottage, Hope was offended and thought such duties beneath her. She grudgingly did the chores but used her godly powers to speed them along which greatly amused Castor.

Hope had an icy exterior in regards to Castor, but Phaedra was the complete opposite of her mother. She seemed to adore Castor right from the start. She was a very warm and loving child. She was always laughing and smiling. She spent the days with him as he gathered vegetables from the garden. She even accompanied him when he went fishing or hunting for rabbit or the occasional deer. At night, he told her stories of faraway lands, scary monsters and brave heroes, which truly delighted the little girl.

Castor knew despite her icy exterior, Hope had some warmth buried deep inside; after all, she showed this side to little Phaedra. He set about bringing this warmth to the surface permanently. He brought her wildflowers from the forest, which she seemed to appreciate. He prepared dishes from his youth for dinner, which she actually enjoyed. He got her to accompany him and Phaedra during their walks in the forest. As Castor watched Hope, it was like she was discovering the world around her for the first time. She was truly awestruck by the beauty of the forest, the different trees, and the flowers, the animals and birds. It took Castor only a month to have Hope smiling and laughing as much as Phaedra.

By the end of their second month together, Castor started to feel like the little threesome was a true family. Phaedra was still growing rapidly and now was the size of a child at age eight. The young girl had a tremendous appetite. Castor was amazed how someone so small could eat so much food. She was a very bright and inquisitive girl who learned to read and write at a phenomenal rate. At her young age, she already displayed a tremendous gift for writing and was quite the storyteller as well. Phaedra was not as comfortable with her godly powers as her mother was. She seemed to have no interest when Hope tried to get her to sharpen them with practice. Both mother and daughter possessed culinary skills. Hope now prepared the meals and Phaedra would help. Castor enjoyed watching mother and daughter together and couldn’t dismiss the feeling that their roles sometimes seemed reversed.

The time Castor spent with Hope was the first meaningful relationship he had with a woman. All his past experiences had been visits to brothels culminating with lust-filled physical acts which left him feeling empty. Hope was the first woman who captured his interest with talk alone. At first, she was very quiet, but curiosity for the world around her spurred her to seek answers for the questions she held within. She had a genuine fascination with people in general, their relationships and emotions, especially love.

One day, Hope asked Castor why someone with his warmth was living alone. Castor had never shared the reason for his solitude in the forest with anyone but felt comfortable enough with Hope to share his past. Castor was born in Egypt. His father was personal physician to the Pharaoh, himself. When he was twelve, his father was framed in an assassination attempt on the Pharaoh involving poison and was executed. His mother committed suicide while Castor and his siblings were sold into slavery. Castor ended up in Greece and was bought by an unscrupulous spice merchant named Theseus. Castor had been a slave for three years when he made his escape after a rival merchant killed Theseus. Castor picked up some dark talents while enslaved to Theseus and over the next three years, wandered from town to town, stealing and running cons to support himself.

When he got to see first hand an attack on a town by an army, Castor decided the warrior’s life was for him. Castor was big, strong, eager and capable of following orders so he was quickly taken into the army. At first, Castor was a little apprehensive when he found out the army’s commander was a woman and her name was Xena. But that quickly changed after he heard about her dark exploits and saw her in action on the battlefield. Her taste for blood was so contagious; it engulfed all that followed her into battle. And it certainly boosted his confidence to know she had Ares’, the God of War himself, personal backing. When Castor was a slave to Theseus, the merchant had a lot of dealings with warlords who had acquired wealth from the villages they attacked and pillaged. All had claimed allegiance to Ares. Castor had always been impressed that allegiance to a god could bring unfathomable wealth and now he would share in such treasures being a warrior in Xena’s Ares-backed army.

Castor's service in Xena's army was bloody and glorious. He killed many men and their deaths always seemed to strengthen him like his body absorbed their souls. He got more thrills from the kill than the spoils that were found in conquered towns. But Castor lost that thrill when he participated in the attack on a little village called Cirra. The army deviated from the policy of leaving women and children unharmed. During the attack, a fire broke out killing every living soul in the village. The deaths of people cowering in their burning homes made Castor finally question the life he had chosen for himself. He also thought about the families of all the men he had killed during his years as a warrior---their widowed wives and their fatherless children, what became of them? He thought about his dead parents and how heart-broken they would be over the life he had chosen for himself. After the attack on Cirra, Castor left Xena's army, retreated to the solitude of the woods and vowed to never pick up a sword again. For years, he remained in the woods alone, with little human contact, until the chance meeting with Hope.

It felt good for Castor to finally share the secrets of his past with someone. Hope did not judge him or view him with disgust after she heard the heinous acts he had committed. He was surprised by the hostility she seemed to show towards Xena, a woman she had never met. Hope told Castor what happened in Cirra wasn't his fault. The real blame lay at the feet of the army's commander - Xena. She had given the order to attack the village so anything that happened whether intentional or not was her responsibility. Castor didn't feel Xena should shoulder all of the blame for Cirra but didn't argue with her. He had never seen Hope so agitated over the mention of another's name before. Hope reassured him that he was a good person because the incident in Cirra opened his eyes to the wrong he was doing and he immediately changed his life thereafter.

As the weeks past, Castor grew closer to Hope. There were still so many things about her he didn't know but he felt he knew enough. Castor believed fate had brought Hope into his life to show him he no longer had to punish himself for his past. He could have a life just like other people. He could love and be loved for he did love Hope and thought she felt the same for him. That's why he was surprised when almost three months to the day of arriving on his doorstep she announced she was leaving and never coming back...

As Castor relived the past three months of his life, he felt his heart breaking as he sat at the table and watched Hope prepare the last meal they would share together, for she was leaving tomorrow morning to parts unknown. He looked at Phaedra, now twelve, who sat at the table and watched her mother too. Normally she would be helping her mother prepare the meal but her heart just wasn't up to it that night. Phaedra was also disappointed her mother had chosen to leave her in Castor's care and not take her wherever she was going. When the meal was ready, Hope joined Castor and Phaedra around the table. All three sat in silence and picked at the food on their plates. Someone had to break the deafening tension in the room so Castor decided it would be him.

"Why won't you tell me the real reason you have to leave?"

"After everything Castor has done for us, you do owe him that much mother," Phaedra added.

"I told you all I am able to Castor. And I thought you understood my reasons for leaving after the long talk we had yesterday Phaedra."

"I listened to your reasons but I still don't understand why you have to leave," Phaedra replied. "I think the three of us could put our heads together and come up with another way to handle the situation that would keep us all together."

"I have gone over the situation in my head countless times...my leaving is the only solution," Hope firmly stated.

"Since your mind is definitely made up, I won't say another word." Phaedra’s mouth was twisted in a sad frown as she fought back tears that threatened to pour from her eyes any moment. "I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought." The girl got up from the table and quickly departed through the cottage door.

Castor had been sitting back watching the exchange between mother and daughter. When Phaedra left the cottage, Castor decided to forge ahead with the subject on everyone's minds.

"I know you haven't told Phaedra and I the entire reason for you leaving but I was able to figure out it has something to do with the gods. Which one, your father, Phaedra's or both?"

Hope sighed. She knew Castor was having a hard time accepting her decision to leave, so she decided to answer this question.

"Yes Castor, it does involve the gods, my father to be exact. That's why my leaving is the best solution to the problem. You know there are things about me and Phaedra I haven't shared and you chose not to pry and I thank you for that." Hope had a faraway look in her eyes as she continued to speak. "My father has people, his devoted followers, who won't stop looking for me and Phaedra." She now stared into Castor's eyes with a concerned look on her face. "If I stay here, they will find us and that would mean death for you. If I go to them, once they have me, they will forget about the child and she will be safe."

"If these people are that dangerous, won't deceiving them about Phaedra put your life in jeopardy too?"

"They won't kill me Castor. I have a great purpose that I must fulfill for them," Hope replied with a touch of sadness in her voice. "My father is a powerful god. If you go up against him, you will surely die and I can't let that happen." Hope reached across the table and held Castor's face in her hands. "You must accept it when I say my leaving is the only choice we have."

His concern for her safety was somewhat lessened with her reassurance that her father would not hurt her but he couldn't deny the emptiness which would come to his heart when she left. Castor had only known Hope for three months, but knew once her mind was made up, there would be no altering it.

"Well, if I can't change your mind, I guess I have to accept your decision," Castor said in a defeated tone. He rose from the table and left the cottage to join Phaedra.

After Castor left, Hope rose from the table to clear up the leftovers of their dinner. As she went about her tasks, she thought about her life over the past three months. In her short existence, it was the only time her life wasn't consumed with fulfilling her father's dark plans. She had spent time with a person, a mortal, and not viewed him, as a sacrifice needed to free her father. Castor was her equal and not an inferior whose life she had any right to end. Hope wished she could open up to him about the dark events of her short life like he had done with her but they were still too fresh in her mind and with the discovery of a conscience brought her shame.

Hope finally understood what love was. She had learned about the love between a mother and child before and after Phaedra's birth. Castor had taught her about the love between a man and a woman. The only experience she had ever had with any male had been Ares. Neither had felt any love or passion for the other. Hope was fulfilling her part in her father's dark plans and Ares was protecting his immortality. She was quite surprised when Castor had revealed his past admiration for the war god and had thought about telling him Ares was Phaedra's father but decided against it. Revealing Phaedra's paternity would have only led to him asking more questions for which Hope would not have been able to answer.

Hope and Castor had never shared their love for each other physically but they had opened up their minds and hearts to one another. She had shared as much as she could with him, the only other person being Phaedra. Hope's stay at Castor's secluded cottage had made her forget her father's dark purposes for herself and her child. She had found a way to make sure Phaedra was useless in his dark plans. Hope had tried to make up for her past misdeeds with a brand new life for Phaedra and her leaving would secure that.

Over the last week, Hope had felt a dark presence slowly take shape in her mind. It was Dahak! Her father had somehow entered the world without her assistance. The feeling of this dark presence grew stronger with each passing day. Hope knew her father would feel her life force and send his devoted followers to search for her. They couldn't be allowed to locate the cottage, it would mean certain death for Castor. And if her father ever discovered what became of The Destroyer, there was no telling what he would do. Hope's few months of living like a mortal were sadly over. When she thought about the acts her father would order her to commit and their effects on her newly discovered conscience, she could no longer hold back the tears and let them flow freely down her cheeks.

**********

At daybreak, all three occupants of the tiny cottage awoke to their final morning together. Hope packed the few belongings she had accumulated in her three-month stay at the cottage. Castor and Phaedra busied themselves preparing food for the journey, which lay ahead of her. Castor had some money, which he gladly gave her. There was a village on the outskirts of the forest where Hope could buy a horse, which would ease the rest of her journey.

When Hope was ready to leave, all three gathered outside the cottage for a teary good-bye. They first shared a group hug, and then Hope individually hugged the only two people who had ever touched her heart. Hope then set off on the long journey ahead of her. Before they were out of sight, Hope turned around one last time. Castor and Phaedra were still standing in front of the cottage, holding each other as tears ran down their faces. Hope gave one last wave before she disappeared from their view.

As Hope walked through the forest, she thought about the wonderful discovery she had made thanks to Phaedra and Castor. She had discovered within herself what she thought was impossible, a human heart which could love. She also thought back to the irony of discovering Castor knew someone who played a key part in her own life - Xena. The past three months had lessened Hope's hostility towards the warrior woman but remnants still remained. With her father's arrival, Hope knew Xena would be right in the forefront to stop him. Maybe by then and with the help of her newly discovered conscience, she would have the courage to join Xena in her fight against Dahak's dark plans for the world.

Chapters 7 - 11

Webmaster Note: To make this story load a little easier in your browser, it was split into several web pages.

Feedback: Send comments to: skkye_blue@yahoo.com