Distant Voices

Xena looked over at Gabrielle, her eyes wide with surprise, but her friend was crouched on the ground, her hand measuring the hoof-prints.

“What?”

Gabrielle looked up. “I said, you’ll have to kill him, Xena. Otherwise he’ll go after all the centaurs, not just Xenon. He’s just too dangerous.”

Xena’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped back.

“Gabrielle – I told you, he’s Borias’ son. He’s the way he is because I . . .”

“What? Because you offered Borias a ride on your horse, and he took it? What’s happening here isn’t your fault. There’s a dangerously insane man on the loose here. You need to stop him.”

Xena’s mouth grew dry suddenly. “End of story.”

Gabrielle got up, brushing herself down, and nodded firmly. “End of story.”

“Ares!”

She could call him out of the air, she knew it. And the angrier she grew, the closer she drew him to her. Her fist clenched; she thrust it into the sky.

“This has your stink all over it, Ares!”

She was sure his smirk would appear before the rest of him, and her hand was ready to slap it off him.

“A whole army after someone who happens to be my dear friend’s son? Come on – tell me you have nothing to do with it.”

“With the added twist that the army is led by your ‘dear friend’s son’.” Ares mocked her, his voice sounding by her right ear. She turned, but he wasn’t there.

“Is that what this is? Jealousy over a dead man?” She asked incredulously.

He chuckled again, but she could trace no hurt in the laugh.

“You want to see me torn between these two men? You want to see which one will live, which one I’ll let die?” Xena cried out hoarsely. “I won’t be part of your little game!”

“So don’t play, then –“

It was a whisper, and then it faded, along with the feel of his presence. Xena realised she’d been gripping her sword the entire time. She tossed her head back, then ran back to camp. Gabrielle was probably busy whetting her daggers.

“I looked for them everywhere – they’re gone.”

Xenon was pacing madly, his head tossing and his arms waving as he explained what had happened.

“The village – it’s been razed to the ground. Everyone’s fled. They’ve all gone their separate ways, we’re no longer a tribe because of him!” Xenon hissed, his hands moving restlessly. “The centaurs have lived on these lands forever, they’ve never moved away. But he’s scattered us, destroyed us!”

Gabrielle shook her head.

“He’s insane with jealousy. Who knows what he’ll do when he finds you – and when he finds out –“

“I’m carrying a centaur's baby?” Nicha spoke quickly, brushing a hand over her protruding belly. She shook her head miserably.

Xena stepped forward. “Your father loves you. I saw it in his eyes – he won’t reject you because of what you’ve done. And he won’t reject your child, either!”

“Loves her?” Xenon repeated incredulously. “You don’t know anything about love, then, if you think –“

“Don’t you dare say that.”

Even Gabrielle was taken aback by the venom in Xena’s voice.

“I’ve experienced more love than a boy like you could ever know,” she went on in a low, furious voice. “And I know the best way to destroy Nicha’s love for you is by destroying her father. Well, I won’t do that. I owe too much to your mother – I owe too much to his father. “

“Maybe that’s the problem, Xena.” Gabrielle spoke in a thin, high voice – and she turned her eyes away from her. “Instead of seeing Belach, you’re seeing Borias. You held out your hand, and he came to you. It won’t be so easy, this time.”

Xena gasped, then, as though someone had hit her hard in the stomach. Then she turned, whistling for Argo, and left.

She camped alone that night. Gabrielle could watch the frightened couple, her sais at the ready. Instead she lit her fire outside the walls of Belach’s empty castle. A single candle burned, among all the windows of the fortress.

Borias had never known a such a palace. She could scarcely remember him sleeping within four walls – once, perhaps, in Chin. He hadn’t liked it, either, she recalled now. He’d spurned the high wooden bed, and pulled the soft coverings onto the floor, closest to the window. And he’d escaped with her back to his yurts and horses as soon as possible. The freedom of the wide, open plains was part of him. It had infected her, too, she realised now. She was the wanderer she was because of him.

Borias had never understood her fascination for owning lands . . . treasure, yes, he sought it as greedily as she. But owning a river, or a mountain – that was a foreign idea to him. Her need to conquer cities, her longing to rule – that had never been part of him.

A shiver came over her, but she refused to stand, to look around for him. A warmth grew inside her, but she refused to sigh.

“This is going even better than I’d planned. It’s even separated you from the gabbler! When push comes to shove, you follow your past, don’t you?”

A flicker of a dream passed by her eyes, but she refused to hold onto it. He was part of the darkness around her – he was in the shadows. And then he was the fire in front of her.

“So which friend do you choose? The friend of your light or your dark self, Xena?”

“They’re all one,” she spoke finally, and doused the flames. The sizzle was muffled by a familiar laugh, fading into the night.

Xena watched the change of guards at the gate, steadying her thoughts determinedly. Belach. Belach lacked that hunger for power, too. Like his father, he understood possession, however. If you held it in your hand – well, then it was yours.

Ownership. Something she had spent the last – how long was it? – trying to unlearn. Love wasn’t about a hand held fast about an object; it was that same hand, held out and open.

Xena stood up and made for the candle-lit window.

“Xena!”

Gabrielle jumped as the outer door creaked, and ran to her friend’s side.

“I’m so glad you’re here – the baby’s coming, and . . .”

“Shh, shh, it’s all right,” Xena comforted her, laying a hand on her friend’s cheek. “Where’s Xenon?”

“He’s out the back, standing watch –“

“Bring him here,” Xena directed, then moved her hand over Nicha’s belly. She could feel the little hooves – it meant she was having a boy, a centaur. She grimaced. Hard work was ahead. She turned as Gabrielle returned with Xenon.

“Help her breathe through her contractions – and don’t let her push yet,” Xena commanded, then moved back. She saw the small fire Gabrielle had made in the corner of the room, and noticed she’d set a pot of water boiling on it. Grabbing the dagger from her boot, she plunged it into the flames, until the metal glowed. Then she returned to Nicha, whose cries were growing more frantic.

In a sudden movement, Xena jabbed at Nicha’s throat. The girl slumped, unconscious.

“This isn’t going to be fun,” she advised. “Xenon – don’t watch.”

Feeling the baby’s head carefully, she widened Nicha’s opening with her knife, until both the head and the centaur body could fit through.

There was a dull thud.

“I told him not to watch,” Xena muttered. “Gabrielle – this will need stitches . . .”

“Where – where are you going with the baby?”

Xena pushed Gabrielle aside and moved to the door, holding the whimpering bundle in her arms.

“I’ll be back before they wake,” she told Gabrielle, with a look of sadness on her face. “Don't follow me, Gabrielle.”

Then she was gone.

Xena knelt by a pool of water, scrubbing at the blood on her tunic. The dagger lay beside her, cleaned, and well-sharpened. She heard a sound, and looked up – then she dropped all she had as Gabrielle ran towards her.

“I’m so sorry . . . I can’t believe I . . .”

Gabrielle dissolved into sobs, then she fell to her knees, her hands over her face.

“What kind of – what kind of woman am I – what kind of –“

Xena pulled her up quickly, wrapping her arms around her.

“It’s all right. It’s all right,” she repeated, leaning her head against Gabrielle’s own. “I knew that Belach loved his daughter, and he’d forgive her once he saw her child. I knew that as well as I knew myself . . . and Ephiny . . . and Borias . . .”

“Why wasn’t it me who believed?” Gabrielle whispered, her sobs fading to occasional gulps.

“You loved Ephiny, and Belach was nothing to you,” Xena reminded her, and then looked at her directly. “You believed in me, at the end. That was enough for me . . .”

“Let me – let me guard them, tonight,” Gabrielle said finally. “Just so I’m sure –“

Xena nodded, understanding. “All right,” she repeated. “But I’m already sure.”

Giving her friend a final hug, she turned and followed the sounds of the birds to a grove of trees; and beyond the trees, to a lagoon of shallow waters and reeds. A breeze had come up in the early evening; the water rippled, the reeds bent low.

There was a duckling, swimming against the flow of the water. It bobbed on the water, then dove under suddenly, becoming invisible. Xena wondered whether the current had pushed it away; but then she saw the little bird again, swimming further on, further out.

The croaking of frogs rose up louder, then, and she stood up, brushing herself off, and turned to leave. A wide plain of low grasses surrounded the trees that hid the lagoon. Stepping over a fallen branch, Xena moved into the clearing, then hesitated.

He was there.

She pressed on, ignoring him determinedly. The wind grew suddenly stronger, pushing at her; but she walked on nevertheless, her hair flapping around her face, her leathers pressed close to her skin.

The wind stopped. She felt his hand on her arm.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Xena.”

Her forehead creased with confusion; then suddenly her eyes cleared, and she smiled. Finally understanding that everything had happened just the way Ares had wanted it, she laid her own hand, open, on his. Then she waited, until he appeared to her.

...h.o.m.e...
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