Tempting Fates

Part 12

The dining room was in some disarray when they entered, Gabrielle moving off to the right to speak to one of the servers while Xena continued forward, scanning the people standing in clusters, some around tables, most speaking in hushed tones and looking around uneasily.

At the main table there were a dozen men, all dressed well, standing facing Hercules who was behind the table, with his hands resting on the chair Iolaus usually sat in.  He had a peculiarly stolid expression on his face, a mixture of held patience and mild resignation, but his fingers were shifting on the chair, clenching them in an almost unconscious way.

Servers were circling uncertainly, bearing trays and endeavoring to fulfill their tasks as diners shifted and moved and circled and switched from table to table.

Hercules glanced past the speakers briefly, and spotted Xena headed his way and just the barest, faintest of twitches moved his lips, the equally faintest motion of his eyes rolling up and then down again bringing a wry smile to hers.

She got to the opposite side of the table and picked up one of the chairs, dropping it and causing a sudden, harsh clatter. “What’s going on here?” She asked in her most no-nonsense tone, usually reserved for suspicious sounds coming from Dori and Cari’s bedroom.

The men stopped speaking and turned, startled.

Xena didn’t wait for them to start up again. “Why are you here arguing?” She asked. “Why aren’t you packing up your carts and getting ready to leave?”

“We’re not leaving.” The nearest man, a silver haired patrician with a firm, square jaw answered. “There has to be another answer. We’ve worked hard for generations to build this town.”

Xena let him finish. “If you stay here, you’re gonna die.” She said flatly. “Along with your families and whatever else is here. It’s gonna be covered and dead.”

The man turned and pointed at Hercules. “We understand that. We want him to change that.”

Hercules exhaled. “People.” He said. “I’m gonna say it again. I am not my father.” He enunciated the words carefully. “I can’t stop this.”

“Then get him to stop it.” The man said, without hesitation. “That’s what they’re doing in the city! They’re praying to Illumos, and they say he can stop it. The priest can’t, he can.”

“I’m not a priest.” Hercules said dryly.

“But he’s your father. Why can’t you ask him?” The man said, in a plaintive tone. He spread his hands out. “What are we supposed to do? We welcomed you. We gave you a home!” He seemed honestly at a loss, unable to understand the lack of initiative from this person they had all thought was a patron.

Was a demigod. Was the son of Zeus.

Hercules and Xena exchanged a long look of exasperated understanding. “It’s complicated.” They both managed to say at the exact same time.  Then Hercules leaned against the back of the chair. “Just because he’s my father, doesn’t mean he… or any of the gods appreciate a half mortal.”

The men stared at him.

Xena lifted her hands in exasperation and let them fall. “Lemme go spill some blood and ask Ares.” She said, turning around and heading back towards the door, shoving furniture and more gently, servers out of her way, signaling to Gabrielle along the route.

There was a brief moment of profound silence. The men were all uncertainly looking at each other, then back at Hercules. “Is she..” The silver haired man asked, hesitatingly. “I mean…”

“No.” Hercules answered gruffly. “She’s just…” He exhaled again. “Just Xena.” He spread his arms out. “But you should listen to what she said. Get ready, pack your things. If it starts getting worse and it will, you’ll be out of time.”  He took a step back and lifted his voice. “Everyone listen up!”

The servers and most of the patrons all turned and looked at him, the room going silent.

“The wind is bringing ash from the mountain.” He said, firmly. “That is the start. We don’t have much time. Get all of your things ready and line the carts up on the road heading out. We’re going to have to start moving if we want to escape the worst of it.”

“Where will we go?” One of the other men asked.

“Away from here.” Hercules responded, but not without a softening in tone. “We’ll go up the coast.”

The man paused, then shook his head. “I’m not leaving my home.”

“What about the city?” The silver haired man said suddenly. “They say their new god will protect them. Can we go there?”

“We still have to leave.” The other turned to him. “I just had my first profitable harvest. I’ll not do it.” He turned and started for the door. “I’ll not do it.”

A mutter sprung up, the faces in the room doubtful, and borderline angry.  “Get your things packed.” Hercules repeated, in a louder tone. “Go to the city if you want. Trust in that god if you want.” He added. “But you can’t stay here.”

Everyone started to file out, and it did not take long before the room was left with only the servants, Hercules, and Gabrielle.

Gabrielle came over and went around the table, swinging her carrysack to one side as she arrived next to him and they looked out over the now almost empty room. “We’re going north.” She said, after a moments silence. “You and Io are welcome to join us.”

He sighed.

“I know you guys liked it here.” Her voice was gentle. “I’m sorry, Herc.”

He studied the room in silence. “Thanks.” He gave her a sideways glance. “I don’t think there is a home for me.” He shook his head slightly. “If this turns out to be something I drew here…”

“Xe doesn’t think so.” Gabrielle said at once.

He drew out the chair he’d been leaning on and sat down in it, resting his knee against the table. “Io doesn’t think so.” He said, in a thoughtful tone, letting his head rest against the chair back. “I don’t know. I never really got where all the acrimony comes from. Its not like I asked to be born.”

“No.” Gabrielle sat down next to him. “None of us did.” She looked out over the room, seeing the servants in the corners, with sacks, hurriedly stuffing bread and cheese into them. Through the open door to the dining room she could see people running, and far off the sound of hooves and beastly noise and the creak of wooden wheels. “None of us did, Herc. This is just where life led us.”

“Ever wish you’d just stayed in Potadeia?”

Gabrielle watched men run past carrying torches, and an oil lantern. “In all the length of my life, there have been a few heartbeats when I wished that.” She responded honestly. “But only a few. The rest of them never looked back and I can look at you and say, in all truth I have come to accept what the fates bring me.”

He smiled and uttered a brief chuckle. “You are a wise and pragmatic person, Gabrielle.”

She smiled back. “I am a village idiot who loves too deeply, Hercules.” She stood up. “Why not come home with us for a while? At least if chaos happens you have plenty of people to split the blame with.”

Now Hercules laughed, a surprisingly light sound in the empty room. He waved one hand in salute to her. “Maybe we will. Lets see how it goes.”

Gabrielle shouldered her bag and gave him a pat on the shoulder, then she made for the door.

**

The courtyard was in a frenzy of activity, with carts being pulled out from under crofts and the long, slow hoofbeats of oxen being moved.  Xena glanced down the hill as she strode towards the stable, seeing dark and shadowed motion past the gates below.

She spotted a flash of yellow robes and paused, seeing three men dressed in them marching in determined steps towards the patricians row of well built houses, and further down she could hear someone yelling, and catch the words of stop, and listen and the sun god’s name.

Well that was up to them. She continued towards the doors to the stable, swung wide open and as she cleared the verge she saw the back doors to the paddocks also wide open.  There were men there pulling out traces and tack, and in one corner she spotted the stablemaster and two of his grooms, standing and arguing with a patrician.

The stablemaster spotted her and abruptly left the conversation.

“Petar! I am speaking!” The patrician yelled angrily after him.

Petar closed on Xena. “Do you wish to go to the altar? Can you speak for us? Will you help us? I have heard our patron will not.” He said rapidly. “Can we go now?”

Xena held up a hand. “We can go. Can’t guarantee any results.”

He nodded. “The gods work in their own ways.” He said. “But you are willing to try. That, at least, is welcome.” He turned on his heel and beckoned to her to follow. “Come.  Ionas, Kos, we will go, quickly.” 

“Wait!” The patrician protested. “Where are my horses? I demand you tell me!” He grabbed the stablemaster by the arm as he tried to rush past. “Where are my beasts!”

Petar shoved him aside as the two grooms hastened to get ahead of him and towards the small door in the back of the stable. “They were taken, as I told you. Brunas said you were coming with him, on the boat.” He yelled over his shoulder as they moved quickly past.

“You just gave them to him? That bastard thief! I’ll have the law on you!”

The man descended into unintelligible rambling, but they were past him and at the door and in a moment they were through it, one of the grooms waiting and shutting it behind them and sliding a bar across it. “The rest are there, Petar.” The boy said, almost breathlessly. “They’re waitin.”

“It’s the time for it.” The stablemaster muttered. “Lets get there before those damn yellow skirted nabobs come after us.”

Instinctively, Xena looked behind them, but the door remained secure and she returned her attention to the men she was following, reaching up to tuck her cloak in place to keep it from catching on the rough wooden walls.

The back section of the stable was a warren of small spaces and rooms, and there were sacks and bags lining the hallway, meagre belongings spilling out on the ground and abandoned, next to casks lined up and waiting, and hand carts to move them.

They walked quickly past all of that and got to a second latched door in the back, which Petar thrust aside and went through, releasing a wash of outside air inward. Past the door was a narrow passage between two large buildings forming a tiny alleyway that was pungently dark and smelled of earth and grain and acrid scent of old wine.

Storage rooms. Xena concluded, as she looked past Petar to see square of torchlit opening at the end of the alleyway, and looking up, she just see the smudgy darkness of clouds overhead, as a drift of ash settled over the cloaks of the men striding in front of her.

She held her hand out and caught a piece of it, then watched a second and a third settle on her outstretched palm, noting the increasing volume.  Not good.

Then they stopped abruptly, nearly making her crash into them, before the end of the passage and on the right hand side of the alleyway came to an almost hidden door, obvious only when Petar placed both hands on it and pushed inward, and then slid it sideways. 

Xena could smell the incense as it opened, and the scent of metal, rust and the acrid smell of a hearth behind it. She followed warily inside, pausing just clearing the door and taking in the surroundings with a quick glance.

There were oil lamps inside lining the walls, hanging from iron sconces and casting the inside in gold and red and throwing dark shadows on the walls.

A further look around showed her a roughly square room about the size of two horse box stalls, small, with the walls stained from woodsmoke and here and there, tinted with some dark color.  The outside wall contained the hearth she could smell, which was made of the stone from the mountain with a fire crackling inside it. 

On the wall angling off the hearth was an plain, but sturdily made altar, with a slab of solid mountain stone across the top of it.

On the altar were various offerings. Small animals mostly. A freshly slaughtered goat on one end.  Above the altar was a battered, almost indecipherable shield.

All this Xena took in as she was moving slowly forward through the crowd and they were turning to look at her, two of them near the altar holding daggers out from their bodies, the shadows making masks of their faces. It was stuffy and warm from the fire and all the bodies and she reached up to undo her cloak as the room seemed to close in.

The man standing closest to the altar was dressed in a black cloth overtunic, with his arms and legs bare and he stared at Xena, his eyes widening. “Petar… you bring a woman here? What is this?” He gestured to the altar. “Do you seek to offend our god?”

“I do not.” Petar came forward. “I told you I would bring Ares’ Chosen here tonight. I have.” He said, briefly. “Move aside, Jonus.”

“A woman?” His voice lifted in astonishment, and disbelief.

Xena came to a halt, standing there in the sudden silence, only her head moving as she studied the crowded room.  It was full of stocky, weathered men and what was likely their sons, wide eyed youngsters standing in back. Farmers and crafters, she realized. Two of the pot boys from the inn. Each carried some sort of arms, a dagger, or a scythe, or a crudely made spear.

There were no guards. These were just men who found a common need to band together in a joint interest, steering away from temples and pageantry to come to these older roots, likely remembering things their fathers and father’s fathers maybe had done.

Or told them they’d done.

At once, the room became stifling.  She lifted her cloak off and with a negligent toss, landed it on the top of the altar and moved forward, still in that silence, to lay her hands on the stone.   She could feel the relative coolness of it against her skin and felt no energy in it. 

A brief, almost grimace twitched her lips.  There was nothing here for Ares.  With a small grunt under her breath, she took all the offerings off the top of the altar, turning and tossing them over her shoulder into the crackling fire, causing a sudden blaze as the matted fur caught, and sending the scent of burning hair and flesh into the room.

“What are you doing?” The man in the overtunic said, curtly. “Those were to honor the Lord Ares.”

Xena turned and cleaned off the top of the altar, then she turned back around and looked at all of them, taking in those fearful, somewhat resentful, unsure eyes. “Tell me something.” She said. “Why Ares?”

“What do you mean?” Petar asked, watching her warily. “Why?”

“There are a lot of Olympian gods.” Xena said. “You’re farmers. Stockmen. Fishermen.” She eyed them. “Why the God of War? Why not Apollo. Why not Hermes? Why not Poseidon?”

“Do you not worship Ares?” Petar asked slowly. “Why should we not? He rules the fire of the soul of men. He does not dance or make music as the rich men do. He asks not for flowers and coin and fine cloth. He is strength, and heat and blood and courage.”

Xena thought about that for a moment in silence. Then she shrugged faintly. “Fair enough I guess.” She turned and studied the altar and as she turned she felt the motion at her back, swift and violent and her body reacted without thought, and without hesitation, whirling and grabbing the hand with the outstretched dagger driving for her back and wrenching the arm attached to it around in a savage yank.

The man’s body crashed into hers, and she squeezed the fingers holding the knife, feeling the bones grate under her grip and hearing the gasp as the blade was released to fall on the stone floor, clattering until she stepped on it with one boot.

Then she yanked the man, the second one near the altar back around and nailed him in the jaw with a swing of her elbow, the impact making a cracking sound as she released him and he went to the ground, his head slamming against the floor, his body limp and motionless.

Xena lifted her boot up and kicked the dagger back over at him, the blade spinning around until it hit him on the shoulder as he lay. Then she deliberately turned her back on the crowd and went back to the altar, pulling her own dagger out of the top of her boot in a casual motion. “Don’t any of the rest of you try that. The next one’ll get my sword through you.”

The man in the black overtunic slowly stepped back and hastily put his dagger down on top of the altar where she could see it.

“Good boy.” Xena said, giving him a sideways glance. “Now let me see if there’s anything I can do to spice up this sad altar.” She studied the stone, then she looked back at them. “You can worship him for all those things you mentioned, but at the end of the day.” She lifted her left hand and sliced across the palm of it with her dagger, the silver blade staining immediately with dark red. “He’s the God of War, and the only blood he really cares about is yours.”

She turned back and put her cut hand on the altar, as she had on another, leagues and leagues away in the cold air of the mountains above Amphipolis.  Closing her eyes, she opened her thoughts into the ether, letting her words echo through the room and past it, thinking a single, quiet call.

And then the energy came, and she felt the jolt through her hands, shivering through the stone surface and through her, sensing the faint glow over her shoulder and between one breath and the next, the room went very still.

Blue fire flashed, and then Ares was there, leaning against the altar, his dark, bearded face tensing into a wry smile. “Hello there, beautiful.” 

The room was still. Xena knew if she looked at the men in it, they would be frozen in place and time and she inhaled suddenly, then exhaled as she felt that faint, but present sense that was Gabrielle.

“Relax.” Ares said. “Would I do that to you?”

“Yes.” Xena turned and leaned next to him. “Thanks for showing up.”

“What are you doing here?” Ares asked. “This ain’t our patch.”  He glanced around. “And do you have to find farmboys wherever you go? What is this?”

“It’s a shrine to you.” Xena replied with a droll look. “I could ask you why you always attract farmboys I keep running into across half the known world.”

Ares looked around the storage shed, then at the altar, then back at her. “Go back home, babe. These ain’t your kind.” He remarked. “Ain’t your scene.”

“I’m here for your brother’s birthday party.” Xena responded. “Which is being interrupted by a mountain blowing up?” She raised her eyebrows at him in question.  But for a change, his expression wasn’t smirking, or knowing, or godly supercilious, just almost mortally bewildered.

“Huh?” Ares looked around again. “What mountain?” He asked. “You didn’t get hung up with my uncle again Didja?  Did he?” He made a gesture with his head. “My mort mongrel?”

“That’s what I’m here asking you.” Xena said patiently. “All I’ve done in the last couple moons is tweak your rep and mess with some pirates, and your brother’s been living here raising citron.”

Ares looked actually for once caught off guard. “Citron?”

“It’s a fruit.” She said. “He said he went up and asked – didn’t get any information but it seems a big coincidence that he shows up here, and we show up here and then a mountain’s gonna blow.” She studied Ares’ face. “Scam? Bet? Can we get out of here and not wreck the entire peninsula?”

The God of War scratched the back of his head, then he held up one hand. “Hang on.” He closed his eyes and went still, and the faint blue of his godsfire flickered around him sedately. 

Xena was aware of time passing, aware of needing to be in motion, that they were moving into danger, her hand still flat on the altar, flat in a pool of her own blood seeping into the stone. But this was the one chance she might have to find clarity in the looming disaster.

Regardless of what Zeus had told Hercules. She hadn’t been there to hear it and her experience with Zeus hadn’t lent itself to trust. Mixed as her history was with Ares, there was a part of her that listened to what he had to say with some level of acceptance that there was some truth behind it.

Some level. Not without wary skepticism. There was too much there between them. But of all the Olympians, Xena had to admit, she and Ares had the most… She pondered a moment. The most in common with each other. Her thought finished, bringing a wry smile to her face.

There was undeniably that.

Then Ares’ pale eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Xena with a pensive expression. “You need to get out of here.” He said, flatly. “Take my idiot brother with you and scram, Xena. I mean it.”

She met his eyes. “So you are involved.”

But he shook his head definitively. “It’s a scam.” He said. “Just not ours.”  He said. “Just get out of here.” He glanced around at the room. “Here let me give these doomed morts something to send off with. Gimme that.” He gestured to Xena’s dagger, and when she handed it to him, he made a cut in his own hand and put it down on top of hers, blending their bloodstains together. “They’ll have one shot before they’re gonna be ex morts.” He lifted his hand, gave her back the dagger and stepped back.  “Move it, babe. Now.”

With a flash of blue, he was gone, and then with an electric surge activity returned to the shrine, making Xena jerk a little and the men around her start and gasp, seeing in the corners of their eyes the after flash of his presence.

Under her hands, the altar stone took on a deep red glow, as though absorbing the color of the mixed blood it had been soaked in and after a second, Xena stepped back, trying to gather her wits about her as they all surged forward, seeing the change.

“By the gods.” Petar whispered.

Xena looked at her blade, now pristine and unstained, and at her hand, which had no mark on it. “We have to get out of here.” She said, finding her voice at last. “There’s no saving this.” She added, as they all stared at her. “You gotta go.”  She sheathed the dagger and grabbed her cloak, starting for the door.

**

Gabrielle heard the commotion as she neared the doors to the stable, male voices lifted in both rage and outrage, and the very distinctive sound of horses kicking the wooden partitions.  The wind was blowing fitfully down the slope across the compound, and now she could smell the taint in the air as she inhaled it, a very far off acridity.

“Now what.” She shifted the saddlebags she had slung over both shoulders and made for the opening with a determined stride, holding her staff with one hand up off the ground and glancing to either side as she saw groups of men running past the trees and saw a cart being pulled by more men up the hill.

The activity seemed frenetic and a touch uncoordinated, some moving up the hill, some moving down towards the sea, the sounds of yelling in the distance, the noise of wood being chopped nearby.  Ahead of her, the building that held the stables had windows lit with lamps that showed shadows moving inside, and in the distance, she heard goats on the move, their bells clanging.

As she cleared the door she blinked in the gold light of oil lamps and pulled to a halt as a crowd of men surged towards her, surrounding the two horses that Hercules and Iolaus had ridden that morning.  Two well-dressed men had hold of their reins and they were leading them towards the entrance with determined expressions.

She stood still for a few seconds, taking in the scene. One of the stable workers, the young girl, came over to her, arms draped with tack. “What is going on here?” She asked the girl.

The girl drew her back from the arguing men. “The merchants came and took all the stock.” She said. “These nabobs want everything left so to get their valuables out.”

“Out to where?”

“City.” The girl jerked her head towards the slope upwards. “Priests came, said their god was going to stop the fire.” She answered. “Offered to shelter them, for a price.” She started past Gabrielle, shifting the tack. “Mind your beasts.”

Gabrielle blinked. “Oh boy.” She turned and bolted for the corner stalls, where Tanto and Spot were circling restlessly, the stallion raising up on his hind legs and letting out a trumpet and dropping back down when he recognized her approaching.  He stretched his neck out as she neared, nostrils flaring. 

“And those two!” A man yelled and pointed in their direction. “They’re not pulling beasts, but we can put them in tandem. Hurry!”  He turned back to crowd. “Get back, all of you. Out of our way!”

Gabrielle came to a halt at the stall and threw their gear inside, whirling around as she heard footsteps behind her and getting her staff in position as she took a step forward and spread her boots out a little for balance. “Hold on now!” She warned. “These don’t belong to you.”

Six men in good quality work clothes were facing her and moving fast and she drew in a breath and let out a yell that echoed through all the commotion. “Stop!”

They acted as though they didn’t hear her and kept coming and with a low growl under her breath Gabrielle got herself ready and as the first one reached her she swung hard and fast at his head with all the power she could muster, slamming the top end of the staff against the side of the man’s head with a resounding crack.

Blood flew, as his ear split open at the impact and he flew sideways and off his feet as the second one reached for her and she came back around and whacked his fingers, then shoved hard with the staff and caught him right at the neck and bowled him over backwards. “Stop it!” She yelled again. “These are not yours to take!”

“Tell that to the master!” One of them yelled back. “We’ll take what we want, and take you as well, woman!”

Damn it. She didn’t wait for the rest of them to come at her. She went after them, using the length of the staff to her advantage and moving as fast as she was able to, glad at least they had no arms save the work daggers they all wore at their waists.

She stepped backwards and kept the stall at her back, aware of the sound of Tanto thumping his hooves against the wooden surface, and Spot’s wide eyes to her left, keeping the nearest of them back as they tried to grab the staff and hold it.

She wished she had her dagger on.  It was packed in her saddlebag, but there was no time to go for it and she just kept slamming anything in reach, getting one persistent man between the legs as she dropped to her knee and used it as a lever, lifting him right up off his feet then punching him back with a rapid back and forth motion.

“Get her! Cut her down!” The patrician bawled from across the room. “Weaklings! Useless! Give way I’ll take her myself!”

There were five men on the ground rolling in pain in front of her, and a sixth on his knees, holding his groin and Gabrielle took a step back, catching her breath and watching the finely dressed man, with his cape and his burnished boots pulling a sword from a sheath and coming towards her as the crowd scattered and backed away from him, a rush of other figures coming in the back open door.

Gabrielle backed up until she was right in front of the two horses, and shifted her grip, staring at the figure coming at her, watching his motion, judging his skill.  Behind her, Tanto kicked his stall wall again, and lifted up on his hind legs again, letting out a loud, stallion scream.

The man, who she recognized as one of the men who had been sitting, with a quiet brown-haired wife at Hercules’s table the previous day – brandished the sword and moved confidently at her. “Move, wench. I will have those horses. My wagons have to be moved up to the city and I need them!”

“No.” Gabrielle answered. “They’re not for taking.”  She stared grimly at him.

“Do you not see this steel!?” He lifted it and stepped forward with a confident, powerful stride, coming at her with deadly intent. “I must have them! Move!!!!”

Gabrielle judged the swing and the motion with knowledge that was honed by many years of sparring with a more skilled master of the sword than this gilded blowhard. She hopped agilely out of the way and let it’s tip sweep past her, then swept her staff upwards and got the bottom edge up at the level of his neck before he could react and shoved it forward with all her weight, jumping to add momentum as the end of it hit his throat.

He let out a gasping cry, a gurgle as the hardened wood crushed his windpipe and he went over backwards, the sword falling from his hand to clatter on the stone floor.

There was a sound of scuffle at the entry to the courtyard, but it was drowned out by armed men, newly entered, who let out yells of rage, dressed in leather armor with the town sigil carved in the front. “What is going on here?” The man with a captain’s cap said.

“That one, that woman, she attacked Janos!” Fingers pointed at Gabrielle. “That one!”

Without further speech they all started towards her, drawing arms as two men in working clothes rushed over to the fallen patrician and knelt at his side, the original attackers crawling off to the side of the room.

Gabrielle briefly considered opening Tanto’s stall, but she really had no idea what the young stallion was going to do and the thought of him rushing out and bowling her over wasn’t attractive. So, she got in position again and held her staff out, taking a steadying breath and looking at the men with their helmets and protection and weapons and thought, not for the first or probably for the last time that she really should practice more with something like a crossbow.

Then she heard a door slam open on the far side of the room and felt the imminent, oncoming rush of Xena’s presence and altered her plan on the fly. Leaving the guards to crowd forward as they charged towards her she turned and threw her staff into Tanto’s stall, putting her hands on the partition and hurdling over it as the sound of a longsword being drawn from a leather sheath cut through the air behind her.

**

Xena cleared the back door to the stable just in time to see Gabrielle take out a sword wielding man charging her with a beautiful staff move to the throat, but a glance to her left made her realize she didn’t have time to admire it. She headed for the corner, racing the guards scrambling to attack and watched Gabrielle turn and bolt for the shelter of the horse stalls with a sense of relief.

There were a cluster of men between her and the horses, and she slammed into them from behind, grabbing and throwing them out of her way as she forced her path through the crowd ignoring the yells and outrage and knocking men right and left as she got through them.

The guards were between her now and the stalls and she crouched and leaped up and forward, tumbling in a somersault over their heads and into the corner, spinning around in the air and pulling her sword from its sheath with one hand and her dagger from her belt with her other as she landed and let out a bellowing yell.

The first soldier was right on top of her and she kicked him backwards, then she engaged the second who had drawn his sword and quickly disarmed him, stepping forward as she swept her blade in front of her and forcing the men backwards.

Blades went flying, bodies went flying, under Xena’s powerful blows and kicks, breaking bones and knocking opponents unconscious with a steady barrage of attack that was designed to disable.

Gabrielle glanced over the top of the divider. “See that, Tanto? Your mom’s finally having a good time on this trip.” She heaved his saddle up onto his back. “Now stay still and let me get this done, okay?”

The stallion snorted, but seemed calmed by the presence of his rider and he watched with interest the fighting outside his stall while she wrestled his tack on.

Xena had a line of fallen guards in front of her, and she let out another yell. “You all want to die today?”  She disarmed another soldier and roundhouse kicked another that was trying to get her from the side. “I’ll stop playing and start cutting your heads off!”

Gabrielle got Tanto’s saddlebags in place then she swung under the divider between his stall and Spot’s and started getting the mare ready.   “You all better listen to her!” She called out over the wooden partition. “She’s not kidding.”

She ducked under the Spot’s neck and put her hand on the partition, peering over at the guards who now were hesitating, glancing between Xena and Gabrielle. “Those stories I told are not made up.” She added loudly.

The yelling in the stable died off.

“Much.” Xena muttered just loud enough for Gabrielle to hear her. She shifted her blade in her hand, twirling it and scanning the crowd.  The guards paused in their attack and looked at each other, then at the groaning victims on the floor of the stable.  “There’s no time for this.” She said, into the silence. “Take your things and go.”

Then motion came at the side of the stable and Iolaus appeared, hair disheveled and his own sword drawn as he came to Xena’s side and turned to face the crowd. “What’s going on here! We don’t have enough to worry about that you all have to start a fight with Xena???”

Xena looked at him. “I got this.” She said in a mild tone.

“I know.” Iolaus replied. “I just want everyone to know whose side I’m on.”

The leader of the guard, who had come in at the end of the fight slowly moved forward and came to face them, his sword still in its sheath. “Janos is badly injured.” He said. “The woman hit him.” He turned and pointed to a still form lying at one side with a figure kneeling over him, with a cloth.

Iolaus glanced at Xena. Xena glanced over her shoulder to where Gabrielle was watching, her hands fastening Spot’s bridle. Then she looked back at Iolaus.

“What was Janos doing that made her do that?” Iolaus said, as he looked around.

“He was attacking her with a sword.” The stable girl spoke up, from the back corner of the stable. “Because he wanted to take those horses.”

“Our horses were stolen!” One of Janos’s men said. “We must have them to move the wagons!” He said. “We must!”

Xena walked towards him and before he could step back or draw his sword she moved her own blade in a blur, too fast to see it, slicing through his armor and cutting the sword in its sheath off him and sending it flying into a pile of dirty straw. “Want me to keep going?” She asked. “Get your patrician and the all the rest of these wannabe guards out of here and out of my sight.”

He stared at her, his face flushed and deep red in the lamplight. “You can’t order me. You are not Hercules, and a woman at that.”

“Sure I can.” Xena said. “C’mon, move it.”  She added in a flat tone, flicking the flat of her blade against his face on both sides before he could lift a finger. “Stop wasting time. You need to get out of here.”

He dropped his gaze, unable to hold it against the icy glare and went to pick up his sword in it’s sheath. “To the gates.” He turned away from her and motioned to his men. “Bring him.”  He added gruffly, then turned back to where Xena was still standing, her blade resting on her shoulder. “All the town will be wanting those horses. You can’t kill everyone.”

“Can’t I?” Xena smiled at him. “Try me.”

The town guards slowly retreated, two of them carrying Janos, several helping their comrades who had taken a battering from the two women.

“So, you take their side?” Janos’ man said, as they reached the door, looking back at Iolaus. “You and our patron?”

“Absolutely.” Iolaus answered without a pause. “And she’s right. I heard they were going to close the doors to the temple of Illumos before sunrise so if that’s where you’re running to, better run.”

“We’ll be protected. So we won’t be the ones dying.” The man shot back, then marched out the door and slammed it shut behind them, closing the view of the courtyard and leaving the small group left behind.

Xena inspected her sword, and sheathed it, then dusted her hands off. “Let’s get out of here.”  She said. “I’m not going to wait and have to cut my way out of this town.” She went over to where Gabrielle was standing behind the partition and gave her a one-armed hug, pulling her head over and kissing it. “Good job.”

Gabrielle leaned against her. “Thanks. Glad you got here.” She exhaled. “What jerks.”

“What jerks.” Xena echoed. “Why must there always be jerks, Gabrielle?”

“Not even entertaining ones.” Gabrielle murmured wryly. “Just dum dums.”

In the back of the stable, the stable workers had come back in, and the stablemaster, gathered around the door and watching them from across the room.  Xena leaned against the wood and regarded Iolaus. “For what it’s worth, has nothing to do with us.”

Iolaus came over to them. “So they were telling the truth?” He seemed surprised.

“No.” Xena smiled briefly at him. “At least they weren’t telling the same truth Ares told me. What he said was, it’s a scam, but not theirs.” She paused. “And he said to get the Hades out of here. All of us.”

Iolaus’s eyebrows lifted.

“So lets get going.” She concluded. “All our stuff down here?” She asked Gabrielle, who nodded. “Good. Iolaus?”

Iolaus exhaled. “Let me go see what Herc’s doing.” He said. “He was trying to convince the rest of the people here to leave, to go north. They don’t want to.” He turned and headed for the door, shaking his head. 

Xena watched him pass through the door, then she shook her own head and went inside Spot’s stall, joining Gabrielle as she stood leaning against the wood.

“Did he really say to take them too?” Gabrielle asked, as she idly watched the group of workers at the end of the hall, watching them. “I didn’t think there was any love lost there.”

“He really did.” Xena said, quietly. “He sounded…” She paused. “Rattled.”

“Oh. Ew.” Gabrielle made a face. “That’s’ never been good.”

The stablemaster was walking over towards them, and he stopped in front of the stalls, then came over and rested his hands on the partition. “He was there, in the shrine. Wasn’t he?” He asked, in a very quiet tone. “It’s… changed.”

Xena nodded.

“We all felt it.” Petar murmured. “It was like… once I was outside, and it was storming. A storm from the sea, and lightning struck a tree I was standing under.” He flexed his hands and looked at them. “It felt like that. Like.. almost burning.”

Xena thought about that.  She’d always been able to sense Ares’ presence just as a feeling of other.  “Something like that.” She said. “Yeah.”

“And he said for us to leave?” Petar asked, in the same quiet tone. “He will not stop the fire from the mountain?”

“It’s not his to stop.” She said, after a pause. “Sometimes it’s like that, with the gods.”

Petar slowly nodded. Then he looked up at Xena. “Thank you for asking.”  He said. “Do you think it’s Illumo’s thing to stop?” He asked in a straightforward way, his eyes meeting hers without flinching. “The patricians do, and bring their offering to him.”

What was there to say about that? Xena had no real knowledge of the cult, or it’s patron. She shrugged slightly. “In my experience with the gods, they’ve never been interested in coin as an offering.” She remarked. “What would they do with it?”

The stablemaster considered that, then he smiled a little. “That is an interesting question, Xena, who is Are’s Chosen.” He turned and walked back over to where the small group that was with him, who had been in the shrine, who had all felt the presence, were waiting for him to return.

They stood up as he arrived, and clustered around him, bending their heads toward him as he spoke to them quietly.  They all nodded, and then he ushered them ahead of him back through the door and into the worker’s housing.

That left just the two of them, and a silence settled over the stable, into which a far-off rumbling sound echoed softly.

“That was good.” Gabrielle complimented her. “So what do we do now? I’m kind of afraid to leave the horses here, Xena. Should we take them and go find Herc and Io?” She finished adjusting the strap on her saddlebags. “Or should we wait here until Io gets back?”

Xena slid under the partition between Spot’s stall and Tanto’s, and the stallion immediately came to her and pushed his head into her chest. “Great question.” She said. “I say we wait here for a little bit. If we go out and have to leave them to go into a building, it’s the same problem.” She fished a withered apple from her saddlebag and presented it. “Here you go boy.”

Gabrielle came over and stood next to her, reaching out to stroke Tanto’s side. “Does it make it better or worse, Xe, knowing it’s not them and it’s not because of us?” She asked. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Worse.” Xena said, after a pause. “If it were them. And it was because of us at least we’d have a chance of doing something or offering up something that could help.”  She said. “Just feels like we got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“By chance.”

“Yeah.”

The courtyard outside the door suddenly erupted with noise, voices and the sound of footsteps coming up the path and across the stone, the rustle of leaves on the trees as a wind rushed through.   “Let’s go see what’s going on.” Xena said, taking hold of Tanto’s bridle and shoving open the door to the stall. “C’mon, boy.”

Gabrielle opened Spot’s stall and waited for Tanto to exit his, then she led the mare out to follow him, and they crossed the stable floor, glad to be moving.  She watched Xena shove the door open and emerge into the courtyard, a flurry of ash coming down into the light of the torches.

Outside the courtyard was filling with townsfolk, the people from the lower slopes, dressed in worker’s clothing, pulling hoods over their heads as the ash fell on their shoulders, gathering together with looks of fear.

From across the space Hercules appeared with Iolaus by his side, trotting down the steps and heading for the center of the square, towards where Xena and Gabrielle had come to a halt, the two horses periodically shaking their ears to rid them of ash.

“It’s getting worse.” Gabrielle said quietly, pulling up her own hood.

“Yeah.” Xena glanced up at the solid gray sky. “We’re running out of time. “

**

Gabrielle stood quietly with her arms resting on Spot’s saddle, watching over the mare’s back the dense cluster of humanity packed in the courtyard, surrounding Hercules and Iolaus.

Xena, still astride Tanto, was a body length from her, her head turning slowly as she scanned the crowd. Her thumbs were rapping on the front of her saddle, the one evidence of a growing impatience.

“So what everyone has to do, is gather up everything you can carry and we can make our way up out of the town and away from the danger.” Hercules was saying, sounding absolutely reasonable and obviously expecting everyone to agree that was the right path.

Gabrielle, reading the room, felt her head start to shake back and forth, seeing workers and herders taking breath to object, hands spreading out wide in the beginnings of a posture of objection. “Not gonna go for it.”

“No.” Xena replied under her breath.

They were at the very back of the crowd, in the back corner of the compound where just the day before the merchants had been happily selling.   Now the stalls were taken down, the ground beaten in the area under boots and carts, trestles stacked against the wall behind them for another day that now would never come.

The crowd fulfilled Gabrielle’s expectations and a rising thunder of shouting echoed over the grounds. How would they get stock carefully tended out? How were they to carry those things they needed? Where would they go? Did they have to leave?

All reasonable questions, she thought, without many good answers.  “Don’t they have wagons?” She glanced at Xena. “Oh, wait they do, but the dipshits took all the draft animals.”

“You’re going to get hurt or killed if you stay here.” Iolaus spoke up. He stood next to Hercules on one of the harvest platforms in the center of the courtyard.

“If we just run – we’ll probably get killed anyway.” One of the farmers said. “We can’t bring our crops. We can’t bring our harvest, it’s stocked in the cellars for winter. Die on the mountain or die here!”

“And how do we get the wagons up the road?” A merchant said.

“Leave that to me.” Hercules said firmly.

“Leave to you?” A dockworker responded in a bitter tone. “You have told us you can nothing! Why should we even listen!”

Hercules stared at him just long enough for the man to glance aside. “Just get going or there’s no point.” He paused, and in the distance, they heard a thick, rumbling boom. “Hurry.” He made shooing motions with his arms. “C’mon people.”

A low, angry grumbling rose.  Bettina, who had arrived late, and was nearest the lower gate reached out and grabbed the arms of two men next to her. “Come, we’ve got to help ourselves now.” She started moving and tugging them. “No one’s going to save us.”

They protested inaudibly, but complied, and slowly, reluctantly, a straggle of figures started to move down the path, while others stayed behind, clustering around Hercules and shouting.

Gabrielle glanced at Xena, who had heard her, seeing the reflective look on her face. “Crummy day, Xe.”

“Crummy day.” Xena agreed mournfully. “Wishing we’d left on the boat.” She remarked. “I’m sure we’d have run into a typhoon or a mysterious hole in the sea or something, but it beats this.”

There was truth to that. Gabrielle had to admit silently. She looked over and met Iolaus’s eyes and easily read the same emotion as the ash coming from the clouds settled into his curly hair. “Yeah.” She exhaled. “Our road of life is sometimes walking right into quicksand isn’t it?”

Xena chuckled briefly. “Lets go see if we can help persuading.” She nudged Tanto forward, and Gabrielle took hold of Spot’s reins and followed, listening to snatches of speech as they moved through the crowd. She could hear anger, and betrayal, and bitterness, and pockets of despair and resignation.

She eased up next to Xena, reaching out to grasp one of Tanto’s stirrup leathers, rummaging in her mental library for arguments she could use to turn around any of that and as a stiff wind blew down the slope and brought the smell of burning to her, she wasn’t sure she had anything to offer.

They came to a halt next to the platform and Gabirelle handed off Spot’s reins to Xena and vaulted up onto the platform to stand next to them, putting the wind and the smell of disaster behind her and looking out over the desperate, angry faces of the crowd.

At some level she got where they were coming from. They loved their town. They enjoyed living the life they lived, and they had just had a period of good fortune, and the fates had smiled kindly on them. They had Hercules and Iolaus come to the town, full of lifetimes of experience they freely shared, to try and make things better for everyone.

And they had. They had brought prosperity, and a better life. To these people, it would have seemed like a gift, and now when it was on the cusp of being taken away from them, they looked to him, to the fates, to the gods, to protect them.

That’s what gods did, wasn’t it? Gabrielle mulled it over. No, that’s not really what gods did, but you didn’t know that unless you knew that and you usually found that out the hard way.  “Friends!” She lifted her voice over the clamor. “Listen to me.”

She could see they didn’t want to. They didn’t want to listen to a relative stranger from uncertain provenance who had no accolades and titles and wore no jewels or sigils of rank or at least none that anyone here would recognize. All she had was words and her lived truth. “Friends!” She put more power into the word, and raised the volume, along with her hands palms out towards them. “Listen up!”

The muttering died down to just that, muttering.

“Let me lay it out for you.” Gabrielle said in that same strong tone as soon as the level dropped down enough for her words to penetrate. “No one owes you help.”

Hercules’s eyebrows jerked up in surprise and he exchanged a quick look with Iolaus.

“The gods!” One man yelped.

“Not the gods.” Gabrielle shot back. “Not any gods, not the fates, not oracles, not random wandering priests. No one owes you anything. They do not owe you help, or succor, or protection.” She gestured towards Hercules. “He doesn’t. We don’t. You are responsible for your own choices.”

Now there was silence, so dense the fluttering of the torches was loud, and the far off sound of cracks and booms more profound.

“We choose.” Gabrielle gestured again. “To offer to help you all get out of the way of this danger.” She pointed down the slope. “Now you all choose to either get your loved ones and carts and bring them or go back to your houses and sit there and wait for the fate that is coming for you.”

More silence, and the crowd just stared at her.

“MOVE!” Gabrielle’s tone now became a shout. “NOW!”

For a very long moment, she thought they were going to do nothing. Then for another moment, she though they were going to surge forward and attack her and behind her she heard the sound of Xena moving her cloak up and out of the way of her sword hilt.

Then the silence broke and the crowd turned and surged away from them, women calling out, men shouting, jostling each other as they met and got through the wide open gates, as the soft ash that had been falling now turned to grit, pelting them.

Hercules turned and put his hands on his hips. “Well done, Gabrielle.” He complimented her.

“By the gods people are so stupid sometimes.” Gabrielle said, in exasperation. “You have all your stuff ready?” She asked. “Every hair on the back of my neck is standing up guys. We need to get out of here!”

“We’re packed.” Iolaus patted her on the back. “That’s the sacks on the steps there.” He pointed. “I’ll go grab the light cart they somehow left behind the stable and we can pile everything on it.” He jumped off the platform and broke into a jog towards the building.

“I’ll go help.” Gabrielle used the platform height to just step into Spot’s saddle and guided the mare around the trees and trotted after Iolaus’ quick moving form. “Grab some of those lemons!” She yelled back over her shoulder at Xena.

“Got it!” Xena called back.  Then she pulled her sword from her shoulders and guided Tanto around the tree, standing in her stirrups and cutting the last few of the fruits she saw dangling.  “What’s your plan?” She asked Hercules, who had hopped off the platform and was working to drag harvest tools and crates out of the way. “They got many wagons to bring?”

“Three, maybe. Load them here.” Hercules said. “I figured I’d lash them together and just pull them up the road.” He picked up a stack of the trestles and moved them further down the wall. “Biggest issue I see is them trying to bring those herds of sheep and goats along.”

He walked over to the steps and picked up to large packs, lifting them and carrying them over to the open space in front of the stables and dropping them on the ground.

“Those animals are not going to be controllable once they start getting debris heading at them.” Xena finished her lemon collecting, stuffing the fragrant objects into a saddlebag. “I’m not sure these horses are going to be.” She regarded Tanto, whose ears were tipping backwards against his head.

“Well, lady, if you can’t control them no one can.” Hercules spared her a brief grin. “Iolaus told me what happened in the stable. I saw them hauling Janos out in a litter, that last wagon that went out heading for the city.” He came over to her, dusting his hands off. “And I heard them talking. I’m not sure if they were madder about not having the horses, or the fact they had their ass kicked by two women.”

“Yeah.” Xena gazed over his shoulder at the road up the slope. “That attitude makes me not really give a damn if they follow us or not.” She regarded Hercules. “I’m long over having to prove ourselves to people.”

He exhaled. “I hear ya.” He stroked Tanto’s shoulder, and the stallion sniffed curiously at his shoulder. “They just don’t know any different.” He added. “It’s just been like that here for a long time.” He traced a light gray line in the gray dapple coat. “They love their women, Xena. They just don’t expect them to.. be like you.” He finished, making a little face. “They’re not bad people.”

“I know.” Her eyes took on a hint of dark humor. “If I thought they were we’d have put the two of you over our shoulders and been outta here candlemarks ago.” She paused and cocked her head to listen, but the rumblings seemed to quiesce for now.

 

Hercules chuckled under his breath. “What do you think Ares meant by it wasn’t their scam?” He asked, changing the subject. “It sounded like he hadn’t heard about it. I thought that was kinda weird.”

“Is anything with them not weird?” Xena glanced up as a rattle of debris landed on the roof of the building, bouncing off the slate surface and tumbling across the stone tile floor. “Sounded to me like they know something, but they don’t want any part of whatever it is they know.”

“Figures.” Hercules stared off into the distance. “It’s always something. Even if they’re not involved they’re involved. At least you got a more honest answer than I did.”

“Maybe you asking made them curious and they sniffed around.” Xena suggested.

“Maybe.”

There was a sound of wheels and motion coming towards the gates and further away, the noises of livestock.  The doors to the stable swung open and Spot appeared, with Gabrielle leading her, one hand on the right shaft of a lightly built two seat cart while Iolaus pulled on the left.

It was a frivolous thing. Xena studied the cart, then she dismounted off Tanto as they all came together.  She drew her dagger and started cutting the lashings. “Take this off. It’ll be more room.”

Iolaus was already working on the far side, and Hercules checked the wheels, going around to the other side and tightening a spoke. “Here they come.”  He looked past Xena, towards the lower gate. “We’re gonna need some rope to tie these wagons together.”

“There’s some in the stable. I’ll grab it.” Iolaus turned. “Petar’s crew’s coming with us. You made an impression.” He met Xena’s eyes. “They’ll probably follow you all the way back to Amphipolis.” He trotted off towards the wide open doors, and now they could see past them, where figures were moving around, dragging sacks into the middle of the floor.

They could hear stock bells tinkling and clanking and then the lower gate was filled suddenly with the back end of a large harvest cart, weathered and worn, boards cracked on either side and with a wobbly motion and unstable wheels.

It was being pushed by a phalanx of men, and as they cleared the walls a herd of goats squirmed through after them, going between their legs and under the wagon, bleating in alarm.  The men were pushing on the shafts and they managed to get the rickety conveyance into the center of the courtyard, panting with the effort.

Behind them came another, smaller wagon in somewhat better condition, and a flatbed, low to the ground, with iron clad wheels that crunched across the stone tiling. 

A flock of sheep crowded through the gates, with a herding dog behind the and then people. Glum, sweating men and women with bags and boxes and sacks slung over their shoulders, pushing frightened looking children with roughhewn pants and bare feet.

Hercules exhaled. “Gonna have to fix that first one.” He picked up two harvesting poles and advanced towards the first cart, as a group of men clustered around it, one reaching over and pushing the wobbly wheel with a shake of his head.

“Most of the merchants went up to the city.” Iolaus had returned, with a thick coil of rope wrapped around his neck, and several more loops hanging from his arms.  “After the party. I think they stayed up there.” He headed in the direction of the cart.

Xena got the seats folded down and picked up the packs on the ground, slinging them up onto the now flat surface. “We could have Spot pull this.” She remarked. “You can ride with me on him. “ She nodded in Tanto’s direction. “Easier for me to keep a handle on both of them once we get going.”

“You think she will?” Gabrielle studied her placid mount. “Has she done that before?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty light.” Xena gave the small cart a push with her hand. “Let me see if there’s a harness for it.” She handed Gabrielle Tanto’s reins. “Be right back.”  She walked towards the stables, where now the workers inside were trickling out, with packs on their backs, ragged cloaks around their shoulders, and expressions somewhere between afraid and excited.

They glanced furtively at Xena as they passed, but moved onward, trooping almost in a rank as they headed to the center of the courtyard now rapidly filling with whatever townsfolk were left.

Gabrielle stood quietly, holding onto both horses reins and standing between them, glad of their sturdy bodies giving her a sense of safety, and glad of the trees still having leaves over her head as the debris from the sky started coming down more heavily.  “This is not going to be fun, kids.” She told the horses.

She watched the goats and sheep scurry around, nervous and apprehensive, out of their normal pattern and on stone ground their hooves were not used to. The bells on their necks were clamorous, a jarring, discordant sound that brought long past memories to her of nights in the hills, watching the flock.

These animals had their young herders as well, boys about the age she had been with their stock poles, using the need to care for the animals to distract them from the strangeness and the creeping terror of the thick, gray fall from the sky.

Now how, she wondered, would they be able to keep control of those stupid beasts going up in the face of the threat of danger, when they got to the top of the ridge and had to move them onto land they’d never seen?

Dumb as they were, she knew, sheep at least knew where they belonged.  When she’d followed them into the rough hills above Potadeia, they’d followed the same paths, went to the same hollows, knew without needing to be guided the way back to the fold and home.

Comforting, when sometimes she herself hadn’t known. She remembered her father, in one of his few, treasured moments of passing knowledge to her telling her carefully about how the sheep were held to the land, how they knew their place and how she was expected to keep herself with them, and watch, and especially when the lambs came to not let the ewes hide themselves.

She’d been a good shepherd, on those long nights, when she’d whiled away the hours deep in her own imagination, but always aware of the sound of the sheep tugging the grass, and the soft sounds of the hills around her.

The young herders were splitting the animals up in groups, the oldest boy of them putting on a brave air of authority, bossing the others around, and he looked over and saw her watching.  He stared at her, with adolescent bravado and she just kept herself from laughing.

At that moment, they men around Hercules moved the big wagon unexpectedly, and it shifted, and the back wheel hit some of the sheep who were milling around.  Three of them bolted off towards the open road and Gabrielle, reacting without really thinking, pulled her staff out and stepped from between the horses, reaching out to intercept the animals and making a clicking sound with her tongue that came right out of recently stirred memories.

The sheep veered aside and stopped, eyeing her with deep suspicion.  “And so you should.” Gabrielle told them. “Back over there, with the rest of your flock.” She angled the staff and stepped in their direction, steering them away.

The tall boy came running after them, and whistled, and the dog joined him, to circle the ewes and edge them back with the rest, while the boy paused, and looked back at her. “Are you the tale teller?” He suddenly asked. “The one was at the inn?”

“Yes I am.” Gabrielle fastened her staff back into its holders along Spot’s side.

He digested this, glancing back at the flock, then back at her. “You know sheep, some.”

“I do.” She moved a few steps forward and the horses followed her. “I did what you’re doing when I was your age.” She said. “My parents were small holders.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then he turned back and rejoined his companions, and the sheep, and they moved the herd along to one side as the wagon was slowly rolled upright, its wheel now firmly affixed and appeared sturdier.

The crowd surged forward, now mostly silent, hoisting possessions and supplies into the wagon, each bundle with coal writing on the side, the names of its owners.

The wagons were now lined up in a row, and Iolaus was busy climbing over them with ropes, two of the dockworkers jumping up to join him as they realized what he was trying to do.

Gabrielle could feel the tension rising, and she looked over at the stable, hoping to see Xena returning as the ash started to come down again, thick and gritty, covering the ground, and the trees and the horses became restive, shifting their feet and pinning their ears back.

She saw Hercules take a step back and look up at the sky, raising an arm to shield his eyes as debris rained down on his broad shoulders and watched his posture stiffen and without any shred of a thought she sucked in a breath and yelled Xena’s name.

**

Xena strode through the stables, avoiding the stable hands who were busy collecting things and piling them in the center of the room, dragging anonymous bags along the straw strewn stone floors and yelling back and forth.

There was a palpable sense of anxiety in the small crowd, the focus diverting from her presence and allowing her to pass almost unnoticed as she went from stall to stall, peering inside rooms and storage areas, hunting for something that would be fit for the purpose she had in mind.

Or really, for the purpose Hercules had in mind.  She wasn’t sure she would have been as charitable if she’d been in his place, offering to save possessions after facing the rancor of the townsfolk because they thought he was something he just wasn’t.

Maybe he just wanted to display what he actually was.  She yanked open a set of wooden doors and peered inside, finding nothing but hay, and pausing a moment, then grabbing a knotted twine hay net she stuffed it full and slung it over her shoulder. 

His one undeniable gift from his father.  Yeah. Why not?   She continued on her search.

On the ground in one of the storage rooms she spotted a pile of leather, and pounced on it, finding a worn set of harness left behind, old and stained but whole and she threw it over her shoulders with the hay and kept going.

She went through the cupboard, it’s door hanging open and then turned and put her hands on her hips, scanning the walls. Everything of use had been taken, ropes and tools, only a few rope halters hanging from hooks and a lonely looking shovel, it’s end crusted with manure.

Her eyes fell on the back door, and she jogged over to it, ducking outside and letting out a grunt of approval as she spotted a shelter tacked on to the back of the building, its roof already covered deeply in ash.  She went over to it and pushed the gate in one side open, finding a darkened interior inside.

“Damn it.” She stood for a moment to let her eyes adjust and then looked around into the shadows, seeing piles of horse blankets, the musty, horsey scent of it filling her lungs as she walked further inside, searching the walls intently. “Ah!”

Hanging on one side of the wall were stockyard tracings and she quickly went over and lifted one set down, turning it somewhat awkwardly and setting it around her shoulders.  It was hardened leather and a wood frame, meant for oxen and smelling of them, intended to allow them to pull the heavy plows across the fields.

She arranged the lines and reins likewise around her shoulders and turned one more time to see if there was anything else that might be useful.  But the walls otherwise were empty, all of the wagon fittings and chains removed and taken by the fleeing patricians already. “Bastards.” She uttered. “Hope they get what they deserve.”

But no one had wanted a plow hitch, so there was at least that.  Xena turned and headed back across the open ground, abruptly ducking to one side as instinct felt something coming at her and she saw debris coming out of the sky, and under her feet, the ground rumbled.

She broke into a run and cleared the back door to the stable just as she heard her name being yelled and needed no explanation as to why. The stable hands turned as she entered, hearing the yell, and she gathered the trailing reins in her hands and kept going. “Move! We’re outta time!” She warned, as they all reacted and started to grab for supplies and follow her.

Outside, the imminent danger was obvious, and she could see Gabrielle watching the door for her, the two horses shifting and starting nervously, ears pinned back as bits of rock and dust came down through the leaves of the tree they were standing under and peppered their skin.

“Hang on to them! Be right back!” Xena called to Gabrielle as she raced past, going to the head of the wagon train where Hercules was working with some thick rope, stained with sea water from the docks.  “Herc!”  She skidded to a halt next to him and pulled the plow collar off her neck. “This’ll work better.”

His eyes had lit up seeing it. “Sure will.”  He grabbed it and put it over his own head, settling it across his broad shoulders.  “Io!”  He started sorting out the harness, and Xena helped, draping traces over the wagon’s thick wooden shafts and testing the brackets.

“Here!” Iolaus scrambled over the front wagon, now heavily laden with both boxes and bags, and the back lined with straw where a half dozen children were huddled, eyes wide, the back board of the wagon sheltering their heads.   He jumped down to the ground and grabbed the tracings, running them through the heavy iron rings on the shaft. “Now we’re cooking.  Move up there pal.”

Xena watched for a moment, then she turned and headed back over to where Gabrielle was still tensely standing, waiting for her.  “Okay.” She was glad to get under the tree, its leaves providing some shelter from the debris that kept thumping against her shoulders “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“I can do that.” Gabrielle took hold of the trap harness hanging around Xena’s neck. “You want to calm your buddy here down?” She handed Xena Tanto’s reins and focused on Spot, easing the leather straps over the mare’s bare back as she stood between the light cart’s fancifully carved wood shafts.

Xena moved Tanto a few steps away soothed him for a few minutes, brushing the ash off his mane and scratching him behind his ears until he settled down, turning his attention to searching her pockets for treats.  She fished around and found him one, and then boosted herself up into the saddle, ducking under the branches of the trees as he shifted his feet and bucked slightly. “None of that.” She stroked his neck, then looked out ahead of them. “C’mon, chill out boy. We got a job to do here.”

The wagons were ready, three of them roped together, townsfolk still piling goods on them. “Let me go ride down and see if everyone’s out below.” Xena said, guiding Tanto out from under the shelter of the tree, swirling her cloak to settle it over his haunches as he reluctantly moved forward. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Without you? Never. You know better.”

Xena accepted the ethereal truth of that and briefly grinned, then turned and headed towards the lower gate.

Gabrielle finished her harnessing task, fastening the traces around the mare and hooking the silver plated chains to the front of the cart. She gently led Spot forward a few steps, glad of the mare’s placid disposition when she seemed unfazed by the unfamiliar device behind her, and she spent a few minutes arranging the sacks and bundles in the cart, moving Spot’s saddle over a little and regarding the back of the short, flat bed with a speculative expression.

Then she opened their camp sack up and removed one of the ground cloths, weatherbeaten and deeply stained from travel and earth, and spread it out over the contents of the cart, tucking the edges under and around the sacks with the waxed leather surface upmost.

A shower of ash plunged through the leaves and landed on both her and Spot, and the mare’s skin twitched, and she shook her head and flicked her ears.  It was gray and sooty and stained both her skin and the horses’s and smelled.. Gabrielle grimaced. It smelled like a pyre.

“You don’t like that huh?” Gabrielle mused. “Yeah I don’t either. Hang on.” She untucked the wagon’s covering and dug inside again, removing a second camping sheet out and spreading it out over the horse’s back, letting the ends drape down on either side and over her tail as she fastened the sheet to the harness. “How’s that?”

Spot turned her head as though in answer and looked back, then she nosed Gabrielle in the chest.   

Gabrielle smiled briefly, and returned to cover the cart contents, but not before digging around in one of the saddlebags and retrieving a piece of weathered carrot.  She walked forward and offered it to the horse, who sniffed, then delicately lipped it up out of her palm and crunched it.  “Don’t worry, Spot.” She scratched the horse along her neck. “We’ll get out of here. Xena’s got a plan.”

“Did we bring water?” Hercules’s voice lifted. “Do we have barrels?”

“They’re down by the inn.” A man’s voice answered. “We can’t lift em.”

Gabrielle watched as Hercules lifted the rigged harness up off his shoulders and left it on the ground with a distinctly exasperated look on his face, then broke into a jog heading for the gate.  He said something to Iolaus as he passed the end of the last wagon, and she saw. Iolaus nod, and jump down, heading for the front.

As he passed where she was standing, Iolaus spread his hands out in silent appeal, and she shrugged back, then tapped her fingers against her forehead, sharing the sentiment in equal silence as townsfolk ran back and forth, seemingly at random.

With a sigh, she went back to repacking the camp bag, tucking things away and tying the cover down, then moving back to the front of the wagon and using some thin leather ties to fasten the front of the ground cover around Spot’s neck to protect as much of her as she could.  The mare blinked her pale lashes and snuffled at Gabrielle’s chest and she leaned over and gave her a kiss on the nose.

The ground shook again, and she heard another series of booms in the distance, and she felt a sense of building impatience as the ash came down harder, and as she watched patter of debris followed it, hitting the stone ground and bouncing closer to where she was standing.

Small rocks, she realized, and as the torchlight flickered through the down falling ashes she edged sideways over to look at one, kneeling down and putting her hand out to touch the nearest of them.

It was unexpectedly warm and she jerked her hand back in reflex.  It was gray and reminded her of one of the pumice stones she’d seen in her travels, but those had been dry, and cool to the touch and she stood up and dusted her hands off, wishing more than ever they were on their way. 

“Everyone let’s get ready to move!” Iolaus was standing the driver’s seat of the foremost wagon. His hands were raised over his head, and he was projecting his voice towards the back of the compound. “Get ready!”

The crowd started gathering near the front, some holding onto the sides of the wagons, the boys working hard to keep the goats and sheep in order as they skittered across the ground, frightened by the ash, and the smell, and the confusion.

Gabrielle put her hand on the leading rein attached to Spot’s bridle and exhaled, keeping the back gate in her peripheral vision.

**

Tanto was not happy with her.  Xena could feel the horse’s irritation in his motion, as the ash continued to fall on them and far off rumbling vibrated the very air. Horses were sensitive, and there was no doubt he knew trouble was coming. She headed him down the sloping road to the port, and after a few more moments of protest he complied. “Hang in there, boy.  We’ll be outta here soon.”

They rode down the broad, stone, well-made passage through the town, but around them the streets and houses and long winding lanes were deserted. There was debris, empty crates, trash, discarded cloths and cups scattered everywhere, and the craft shed, where she’d been so intrigued on their arrival was not only empty, the awnings and fittings inside were stripped bare.

Townhouses, gates flung open, gardens deserted, were on either side of the road. Here and there, oil lamps had been wrested off the stone walls leaving blotches of darkness along the lit passage and down one lane she saw a cabinet left behind, dragged into the open and abandoned, drawers out, doors hanging open.

There were no sign that anyone was around, and she could see the marks where heavy boxes had been dragged out to the road, the ruts almost filled with the falling ash. Further down she came to the inn, and the door to that too was flung open.  She guided Tanto into the stockyard now covered in ash, where patrons had tied their horses to rails that were now cast down and left on the floor.  

She remained mounted, not wanting to risk her stallion acting up and running off, and rode him along the wall, looking through the windows.  The room inside was empty, chairs overturned, tables shoved against the wall, only the lingering scent of ale drifting out at her.

Around the back of the inn, she came to the stables and briefly peered inside the propped open doors, finding dirty straw and the smell of fermenting grain and manure, but nothing living inside.  Propped against the back wall she spotted a scythe and wondered briefly if it had been the one used on the herder.

She came around the far side and continued down to the docks, finding all of them empty, no boats nor ships anywhere to be seen, the entire wharf silent save the lapping of the sea against the stone seawall and as she rode along the pier, the breeze changed and came onshore, bringing brine and salt to overcome the burned scent of the ash that continued to fall.

Then she slowed to a walk as she spotted one figure sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the sea, a small backpack sitting next to them.

It was Joost, the dock worker who had guided them up to Hercule’s compound the day they’d arrived.  He turned his head to look at her as Tanto stopped a length away, keeping the same silence that had been his habit the last time she’d seen him.

“Wagons are leaving.” Xena said. “Last call.”

Joost regarded her with a noncommittal expression. “Let them leave. I will stay.” He said, in a tone full of contented finality. “This is my home.”

Xena considered that, feeling the breeze freshen against her face, and a welcome if brief respite of the falling ash, as it was blown inland just a little. “You sure?” She asked, in a mild tone. “It’s gonna be bad.”

The dock worker leaned back on his hands and kicked his boots against the dock. “Life ends.” He said. “But we put our trust in Helios, me and mine.” He glanced behind him where there was a sturdy stone built one story building. “We will sit here and greet the sunrise.”

Xena looked over her shoulder at the building, where she could now see faces in the windows, just watching. Two women, some small children, two teen boys, and more figures in the background with an oil lamp behind them outlining their heads. “You made the choice for yourself, or for all of them?” 

“We prayed.” Joost said, with a peaceful smile. “We all agreed, save the littlest ones, who only know they are with us, and we love them.”  He tilted his head up and looked up at the clouds, the ash drifting around him. “Let them all run. At least, with all gone, the fishing will be good.”

Should she try to persuade them? Xena looked at the man’s face, and acknowledged the steady sureness of his belief in his eyes and remembered, briefly, being young and having that same sureness of belief.

Tanto shifted his big feet. Xena looked over at the building and then at him, and then she picked up her reins. “Good luck.” She said. “Hope it turns out the way you want it to.”

“Thank you.” Joost said. “And you as well.”

Xena turned the horse and rode back down the pier, the stone and wood echoing hollowly the hoofbeats until she reached the upward road and turned back up it. 

She saw no other person until she reached the inn, and then she spotted Hercules stepping out onto the road with two huge barrels balanced on his shoulders, his hands gripping the iron bungs as he started up the path.

The ground shook under them and he skipped a step, and Tanto bucked a little, snorting and lifting his forehooves at the sudden motion.   The breeze carried the sound forward and Hercules half turned and spotted her as she got the animal calmed down again and caught up to him.  “Whatcha got? They didn’t send you back for ale barrels did they?”

“Water.” He sighed. “Y’know Xena, sometimes common sense is not really…”

“Common.” Xena agreed. “Yeah. I’ll be glad to be out of here.”

“Yeah.” He said, in a regretful tone. “Let me get these up there and we can..” 

A loud yell echoed down from the compound, and then Iolaus was at the opening and staring down at them, cupping his hands around his mouth and sucking in a huge breath.

“Oh that’s not good.” Hercules started to ramble up the road, balancing the casks. “Can’t it ever be good? Can’t it just for once be easy?”

“HURRY!!!” Iolaus bellowed at the top of his voice. “HURRY!” Then he disappeared back into the courtyard and behind him they could hear pandemonium.

“Apparently not.” Hercules exhaled.

Xena reacted to the urgency, carefully guiding Tanto around to the other side of the road and then urging him forward into a canter, and then into a gallop as he careened up the path, passing up through all the empty houses and discarded possessions, up to and through the gates to where the crowd was gathering around the wagons.

She spotted Gabrielle leading Spot towards the center of the open space, and past her, she could see Iolaus next to a stocky figure, bent over and gasping.  She headed in that direction and pulled Tanto to a halt, sliding off his back. “What’s going on?” She asked Iolaus.

The man standing next to him looked up at her. “Hades own mouth is coming for us.” He got out. “The fires of death! I was up at the ridge and saw it! Coming out of the mountain!”

Hercules came through the gates and without stopping, he went to the last of the wagons and put the barrels down on it. “Tie that down!” He ordered two of the field hands and left them to grab some ropes and climb onboard to scramble and do his bidding. “What’s up?”

“Herc, the bad stuff’s coming.” Iolaus said as he reached where they were standing. “Some kind of cloud coming out of the mountain.”

Hercules exhaled. “Let’s go.” He started for the front of the first wagon and started getting the harness there fitted around his shoulders again. “Everyone get moving.” He called out, lifting his voice over the crying children and the sound of goats protesting, and the creak of the wooden carts shifting.

Gabrielle came over with Spot as Xena was vaulting up on Tanto, and she kept hold of the leading rein as Xena offered her an arm and she clasped it, to be pulled up behind her into the saddle.

There was something so familiar and comforting about that motion, and the sudden contact it almost made her forget, for just an instant the dire danger and the chaos around her.  Just for an instant, as she wrapped her arm around Xena’s body and gave her a hug.

Xena reached down with easy familiarity and gave her a pat on the leg, then left her hand there as she surveyed the crowd, her thumb moving lightly in an absent stroking motion.

It almost made Gabrielle smile, despite everything going on around them. She pulled her hood a little more forward, shifting and getting her balance, the tension in her easing just a trifle but wanting, so very badly, to be gone.  

Iolaus helped the out of breath man up onto the seat of the first wagon and then jumped down and started running back and forth, calling out orders, and getting people in position, dodging bleating sheep and pulling on ropes that were tying possessions in place. “Go Herc!” He called forward. “Pull!”

The ground rumbled under their feet again and Gabrielle felt Tanto move forward under her. She held on to Spot’s reins as they rode up the line of people to the front of the wagons, to where Hercules was just leaning forward, taking the weight of the wagons on the harness around him and starting up the road, step by step in a steady motion.  “Want me to go ahead?” Xena asked, as they came even with him.

“Sure.” He grunted. “Warn me if this is gonna need to go in reverse.”  He lifted his hands and stretched them forward, his body arched in tension as the wagons lurched along behind him, surrounded by scared and desperate townsfolk in the process of losing everything they’d had.

“I will.” Xena said.

“Herc, use this.” Gabrielle leaned over and pulled her staff out of its place on the wagon, handing it over to him. “For balance.”

He grinned briefly and without humor but reached out to grab the staff. “Thanks.” He said. “Be careful.”

“We’ll be something.” Gabrielle took a better grip on the leading rein, wrapping it around her hand as they moved ahead of the wagons, passing through the back gates and starting up the steep road to the ridge.

**

Continued in Part 13