It had taken him a while to get the hang of it, but now he’d developed into a fine and powerful swimmer; more than that he enjoyed it. He knew he’d never really like being mortal, but there were compensations. Like this sun drenched day, with the light dancing on the forest river where he swam now, the current cool and sensuous against his naked body. He dove down into the dim underwater realm, watching the colorful fish play in much the same way he was. Funny, he thought, but as God of War I would never have considered doing this. I missed a lot, seemingly, but still…

Ares broke the surface smoothly, then turned and floated for some little time, considering the clouds that drifted lazily across the heavens. The trees were sighing in a light breeze, and the deep green of their branches against the bright blue sky struck him as enchanting. It seemed that he had never noticed the loveliness of the world he had helped create, and now it was too late. Only months before he had had eons of time, now there would never be enough. He sighed, and then struck out for the smooth rock where he’d left his clothes. He had reached the shallows when instinct warned him that something was wrong. He looked around intently and saw nothing, but he felt no relief, rather his sense of danger heightened. He waded casually until he was within easy reach of his sword, then he moved like lightning and snatched up the weapon just as a mob of gaudily dressed men erupted from among the trees and attacked. He only had time to recognize that they were priests of a new god, Gitri, before they were on him.

There were a dozen of them, and their sheer number led them to make the same mistake many others had: they believed that since he had lost his immortality, he had also lost his skill. Three of them died before they discovered their error. Still, nine to one were not great odds—sooner or later one or two of them would get behind him and then it would be over. Or maybe not…

He smiled as the fury of battle surged through him; he had been the God of War for thousands of years, and this was what he knew—and loved—best. His wicked grin unnerved the priests and two of them broke and ran but the others, either more foolhardy or just plain stupid, decided to rejoin the fight.

“Yiyiyiyiyiyi!” Xena’s shrill war cry cut the air like a knife. She charged into the melee, yelling: “Don’t worry! It’ll be okay!” Ares grinned as he realized that Xena was partially blinded by the reflected riverlight and hadn’t recognized him--all she had seen was one man being attacked by a mob.

The priests didn’t know which way to turn. Instead of one man, naked and armed only with a sword, they now faced three opponents, for Gabrielle was there as well, wielding her sais with lethal accuracy. For several glorious moments, Ares was conscious only of the beauty of fighting side by side with Xena; then it happened.

She parried a blow, ducked, and caught a glimpse of his face. Her eyes went wide as she recognized just who it was she was fighting to save, and in that second of distraction, one of the jackals who had turned tail dashed back and cut her arm. Ares saw it coming and yelled at her to look out, but the coward wounded her and sprinted away again, then stopped, whirled, and hurled the knife at Ares’ throat. Ares dodged it easily, and seeing that, the remaining priests ran after their fellow. In a moment they were gone, the sound of hoof beats marking their flight.

“The dirty little rat!” Xena snarled. “He didn’t even fight, he just cut me deliberately!”

“Let me see that,” Gabrielle said, then stopped dead, gazing at Ares who had picked up the knife and was walking toward them. Both she and Xena immediately developed an intense interest in the trees, the ground, the sky, the river—anything but the gorgeous body of the man who stood before them, completely at ease with himself and them.

“Xena,” he began urgently, but got no further, for she wavered unsteadily and lost her balance. Ares caught her as she fell and lowered her to the ground gently; his nakedness no longer mattered. Gabrielle asked anxiously, “What’s wrong with her?”

Ares held up the knife. “This. It’s poisoned. Take care of her while I see if I can find the antidote on any of them.”

Gabrielle loosened Xena’s armor, and cleaned and bound the wound while Ares completed his task. “Nothing.”

“How did you know it was poison?” Xena rasped, her distrust of him still a dominant note in their relationship.

“Because I’ve seen it used.”

“On your orders.”

“No, as it happens. It’s nasty and extremely slow-acting, a handy tool for extracting information. Anyone who has this stuff also keeps the antidote close by, trust me. I’m going after those priests.”

”How long?” Gabrielle asked.

“It will take a week, maybe more, for the poison to…” he trailed off. “It’s a painful, protracted and ugly death, but then it’s meant to be. There’s nothing you can do except try to keep her comfortable.”

He was pulling on his clothes as he spoke, and then he disappeared into the forest, to return in a few moments with one of the most beautiful horses either of the women had ever seen. The animal, a stallion, was tall at the shoulder and jet black, with not a speck of color anywhere. Of course it would be a male, Xena thought; despite her pain and dizziness she was amused that Ares would have a stallion.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“But which way are you going?” Gabrielle demanded.

“North. Their temple is several days from here. They’ll probably go on without rest, but I can’t, at least not any longer.” He grinned ruefully. “I want to follow their trail until I’m sure they’re going where I think they’re going, then I’ll camp. That will give them quite a start, but Warrior can catch any other horse on earth. I’ll be back in four or five days at the most.” He paused, then added: “You are going to have a very bad time of it, Xena. But you have to hang on. Just hang on.”

He looked at her for several long moments, then mounted and rode away.

“Warrior,” Xena said. “Wouldn’t you know?”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Gabrielle! Gabrielle!” Xena thrashed where she lay on a heap of animal skins, and Gabrielle came running, an older, raggedly dressed woman close behind. Tears of pain streaked Xena’s face and dampened the hair at her temples. “Oh, gods—“

She clutched Gabrielle’s hands in a bruising grip as she fought the pain that wracked her. She was already slipping in and out of delirium, and her helplessness terrified Gabrielle. Xena was always so strong, so capable, that it was unthinkable that she wouldn’t just heal herself, get up, and laugh about the whole thing. Instead she lay sweating and shaking, alternately freezing and feverish, slipping towards death. She sat up with a sharp cry: “Where is he?”

“He’s gone, Xena, to find the priests and get the antidote.”

“No! He’s going to let me die because I wouldn’t go to him. I know he hates me—“

“Xena, he loves you and he’s not going to do anything of the kind. Don’t you understand? He gave up everything for you! I think he’s earned a little—“

She broke off because Xena wasn’t listening, but was staring into the distance at some hideous thing only she could see. A moment later her eyes cleared and she whispered, “Gabrielle.” She was completely lucid, though the sanity she was experiencing would soon dissolve into agony once more.

“I’m here, Xena.”

“Catch him. Go with him. I guess maybe he really is trying to help, and he’ll need you. What will happen if the priests split up? He can’t follow two trails, not now, not as a …”. She stopped, looking hazily at the third woman. For some reason, she wanted to keep Ares’ identity a secret. She sighed and finished: “I wish I could trust him, Gabrielle, I really do--”

“Xena,” Gabrielle said gently, “I believe him. He loves you so much, I can see it every time he looks at you. I can hear it in his voice. Besides, if he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. If he wanted to gloat over you while you suffer, he’d have stayed here to watch, not ridden away. But if anyone can find that antidote, it’s him. He doesn’t need me and I’m not leaving.”

Xena sighed. “He has me baffled, Gabrielle. I don’t know what I think any longer, I don’t even know what I’m saying. But he’s going to need your help. Please, Gabrielle.”

“No. I won’t go.”

“And suppose the priests do split up? What then?”

“And suppose they don’t? I’d be away from you when, I mean I—“

“Gabrielle.” Xena took the Bard’s hands again. “I don’t want to die. My work isn’t done. But unless you help Ar—him—there is a very good chance I won’t survive. Helping him is the best way to help me, far better than just sitting, watching.”

“She’s right.” The older woman finally spoke. “I will look after her, you go after your friend.”

“He’s not what you’d call a friend.”

“Well, whoever he is, go after him. And try not to worry.”

“Who are you?” Xena rasped.

“I’m a healer and an herbalist. I heard part of the fight from over the river but it took me a while to get across.”

Gabrielle looked at the woman closely and nearly laughed in her face: she had the sunken cheeks of the toothless, malnourished elderly; her hair was stringy and she looked nearly 90, though her age was probably closer to 50. Some healer!

Gabrielle’s doubts were obvious, because the woman said, “I can help ease her suffering, and I’m prepared to deal with what must be done. Are you?”

“I have experience—“

“Enough to cope with this? Days of increasing pain and delirium with no hope of recovery?”

Gabrielle didn’t reply. Battle was one thing, watching Xena suffer was something else again. She had been through it before and knew she would rather be doing something, anything, other than nursing her friend and watching helplessly as she struggled to survive. It made her feel guilty, but it was the truth. And this time, for once, she had an alternative. But she didn’t say so, instead she said stubbornly, “Yes, I can cope with this. My place is here.”

“But is it the best use of your time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can take care of her, but I can’t ride or track or fight. You can. If you stay here you’ll drive yourself crazy. Do something constructive instead.”

“Yes, Gabrielle, please go after him. It’s the best option.”

The Bard understood then that Xena didn’t want her there to see the end. She blinked back her tears and left at a run.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Night hid her movements, but still Gabrielle moved cautiously, in absolute silence. She was good at tracking and proud of her skill, and so she was confident that she had gotten to the camp unobserved, though her long run had left her exhausted. She crouched behind a leafy shrub and peered carefully into the clearing. She didn’t move the leaves, but instead shifted her position slightly until she could see though them, a trick Xena had taught her.

“Even the slightest movement can betray you, especially when there’s no wind,” Xena had said. “So don’t move the foliage, move yourself. You can control that. And somewhere there will be a break large enough for you to see through. And if not, listen.”

Xena had been quite right: Gabrielle found a gap that was just wide enough for her to watch the entire area. The fire was bright and had been recently tended but Gabrielle couldn’t see Ares anywhere. She only became aware of his presence when his arm came around her shoulders and his knife found her throat.

“Ares!” She grabbed his arm with both hands but couldn’t loosen his powerful grip. His goatee tickled her ear as he hissed:

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I—“

“Oh, I get it. You wanted to make sure I was actually going after the priests, not just walking out on you.” He let her go and shoved her away in disgust.

“No, NO. That’s not it at all. I—” She looked at him steadily. “I wanted to, that is, I—” She broke off again, turned and pushed through the brush to the campsite. She held her hands over the blaze, then turned to him and asked, “May I stay?”

“You’re here now, so I suppose it’s pointless to have you go trudging back miles in the dark.”

“Thanks.”

“Now tell me, why are you here unless it’s to make sure that I--” he crooked his fingers to put quotations around the phrase, “do the right thing.”

“I’m here, I mean I came after you because Xena asked me to. If the priests split up, you’ll need my help.”

“Who’s looking after her?” he asked sharply.

“A healer. A woman from the fishing village.”

“You trust her?”

“Yes. At least--”

“At least what? Gabrielle, I’m warning you—“

“No, it’s all right. She’s just… strange, but I’m sure she’s kind and will take good care of Xena. Damn you, Ares, I wouldn’t have left if I wasn’t sure she’d be okay!”

Ares’ anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Her name is… I don’t know her name. But she is an herbalist as well as a healer, and she’s capable and knows much more than I do. Besides, I couldn’t just sit there.”

He nodded glumly.

“Maybe I can do something to help you help Xena. And besides, I want to … know who you are.”

“I know it’s difficult for you mortals to watch someone in pain, far worse than actually suffering yourself. You want to be active, try to—“ He broke off as he considered her words, then asked in surprise, “What do you mean you want to know who I am? You do know who I am.”

“Not really.” She paused, then said carefully, “I’ve always accepted you as an enemy because of Xena. I took it on faith that you were what she said, and nothing more than she said. And for a long time I thought that was all there was to you—the blood, the violence, the killing, the tricks.”

Now he really was surprised; whatever he had expected her to say, it wasn’t this. “And now?” he asked.

“Now I think there’s a lot more to you than that. I want to find out.”

“Make no mistake, Gabrielle, I’m not Eli, or Joxer, or your late husband, in fact, I’m not a very nice man. Don’t expect me to be anything or anyone other than who I am.”

“But that’s just it—who are you? You told me once that maybe gods could change too. I don’t think you meant it at the time, but maybe even then you were changing. The Ares I met years ago would have let me die. You didn’t. I’ll always be more grateful than I can tell you for what you did that day. I’ve seen people sacrifice a lot for what they believed, but no one has ever given up eternity for me. Why did you do it?”

He thought about giving her a flippant answer: It seemed like a good idea at the time, then looked at her solemn expression and told the truth.

“All I know is that when it came right down to it, I couldn’t let Athena kill Xena, so I had to save Eve. And I couldn’t just let you lie there either. I’m still trying to figure that one out.” He grinned ruefully, then stretched out comfortably beside the fire. “Get some sleep.”

She found a spot on the opposite side of the blaze, smoothed out a bed and curled up on the blanket he tossed her. She lay back and tried to relax, then turned on her side to watch him. The fire crackled and she thought how comforting it was, this gift from Prometheus to man. And where was he now? Where were any of the ancient ones? She had no idea, except for the erstwhile God of War who lounged on the other side of the fire, regarding her with a level gaze. Strangely enough, she was comfortable with him. She looked back at him steadily and said:

“I want to ask you something else.’

Ares sighed. He was tired but the little blonde seemed to need to talk.

“Go ahead. It looks like I won’t get any sleep until you get all your questions answered.”

“Would you have killed me, really?”

“Do you mean would I have killed you, or would you have been dead when I was through?”

“Stop playing semantic games!”

He chuckled at that, then said, “I… don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“What I said.” He paused for a long time, thinking back; Gabrielle sat up and hugged her knees as she gazed at him, waiting for his answer. When he spoke his voice was rough, the memory of an old hurt in his tone.

“I like to think I’d have held my stroke and spared you, but I can’t be sure of that. I was absolutely furious with you!”

“What? WHY?”

“Gabrielle, you knew me, you knew us. Oh, I know you didn't like me--don’t like me--but you knew me. You’d known me for years. And then Eli came along and you had no time for me or any of the Olympians. It was…” he struggled for the word, “… I guess I felt … lonely. That’s about the closest I can come. You abandoned us.”

“Oh, Ares, I never thought—“

“It doesn’t matter, Little One, nothing matters much any more.”

“Aphrodite called me that,” Gabrielle said softly.

“Did she? She was very fond of you.”

“Where is she? Is she all right?”

“I haven’t seen her in months, but I think I’d know if she’d been hurt or if she was—well, I think I’d know.”

“I’d like to see her. I… miss her.”

“I doubt if she wants to see you. You killed her husband and most of her family. She’s trying to forgive, but it’s very difficult for her. For us. We’re not gods of love, like Eli’s god.”

“I know.” Then she blurted it out: “Did we do the right thing?”

For the first time since she’d known him, Gabrielle saw Ares at a loss for words. He tried to speak, but couldn’t say anything. Gabrielle waited. Finally, he snapped,

“How can you ask me that? Your miserable sidekick slaughtered half my family. What in Tartarus do you want me to say? That I approve? That I forgive you? That I appreciate the fact that you wanted to get rid of me so the new ‘god of love’ could take over? What the hell kind of love demands the wholesale destruction of an entire race of beings? Do I think it was the right thing? No, damn you, I think it was genocide and the more I think about it the angrier I get. Don’t you dare come to me for absolution, because you won’t get it.”

She started to say something but he held up his hand and she fell silent, intimidated not so much by the gesture as by the rage she saw in his eyes, a rage born of loss and pain. She lay down again and closed her eyes; if he was going to kill her, she hoped he’d get it over with quickly.

The next thing she knew, she was back at the river, watching with pleasure as the handsome War God walked toward her, his nude body sparkling with the water that caught in the hair on his chest and belly, and between his legs. He was stunning; so gorgeous she wanted to cry. He was comfortable with his nudity and so she felt no shame in looking at him, enjoying the sight of his bronze skin, the wide shoulders, slim hips and well-muscled torso. Every part of him was beautiful.

He smiled down at her and reached out to touch her face…

She felt his fingers brush her cheek, his skin still damp from the river, and started awake to find heavy dew over everything, and the camp wreathed in a chilly ground fog. A droplet of water had fallen from a branch to caress her cheek. The night was old and there was a glimmer of dawn in the east; Ares had already saddled Warrior and was busy packing up the campsite. She jumped to her feet and rolled up the blanket, then retired behind a bush and took care of necessary functions. When she emerged, Ares was mounted on Warrior, waiting for her. He looked down at her with an odd expression, as if weighing her resolve, then reached down, took her hand and swung her up behind him. She clasped her arms around his waist and hung on as he urged the horse into motion.

That day’s ride remained vague to Gabrielle, except for a few vivid impressions: the feel of Ares’ hard body in her arms; his scent, utterly male and completely unlike anyone else’s; the way he seemed to become one with the animal. She considered herself a fairly good rider, but he was exceptional. The stallion responded to his expert handling, sailing over jumps and galloping for the sheer joy of it. They rode hard, and in a lowering twilight they saw signs that they were catching up with the murderous priests.

Ares reined the proud animal to a walk, careful not to betray their presence with the noise of hoof beats. After a quarter-hour’s slow travel, he stopped and handed Gabrielle down, then dismounted.

“I think they’re just ahead, over the rise,” he said softly. “Do you agree?”

She was startled that he would ask for her opinion, but he seemed quite serious about the question. She looked around quickly and saw the trampled grass; the broken twigs where they had pushed through the bushes. And then she caught sight of a pencil-thin ribbon of smoke, barely visible except where the fading light caught it.

“Yes, I think so, either that or they just left.”

“Let’s find out. We need one alive. Only one.”

She realized immediately what he meant, and shuddered. But there was no going back. He moved to the right and she took the left, moving as warily as she could. She caught a glimpse of the priests, six of them, gathered around the dying fire. They were dressed in bizarre purple and brown robes with patches on them the color of dried blood. They somehow struck Gabrielle as wrong, even evil, but then Ares was there, slashing his way through the startled men, and Gabrielle raced to join him.

She had never felt the joy in battle that Xena did, but now she seemed to catch something of Ares’ lust for combat, and she felt exalted. The danger, the risk to herself were important, but more than that, there was the pleasure of combat itself: the thrusts and parries, the strokes given and taken, the strategy, the sheer thrill of pitting herself and her skills against an opponent for the greatest prize of all, life itself. She heard Ares laugh with the same delight she felt, then it was over. Five of the priests were dead and one was dying. Ares knelt over him and yanked his head back by the hair, rasping out: “Where’s the antidote?” But the man choked, and blood began to dribble from his mouth; he was gone.

Six of them? Gabrielle wondered. Weren’t there more than that?

No sooner had she thought it than two more attacked, one from each side. She spun to face her assailant and found herself back to back with the God of War, a position she had never imagined she’d hold. And once again, his battle fever infected her, so that she had slain her man without consciously thinking about it. She turned to see what was happening behind her and found Ares holding the last of the priests by the neck. It was the rat who had cut Xena. He was terrified, and well he might be, for Ares’ smile was singularly unpleasant. The War God held the priest’s knife, and said to Gabrielle:

“Look who we have here. Roll up his sleeve.”

She knew instantly what Ares was going to do and recoiled from the idea. Ares shot her an “ok, wait and see” look, turned to the quivering man, and asked the vital question: “Where is the antidote?”

“I—I… don’t know.” He was quaking and looked like he might actually be sick from fright.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely. I need the antidote and you know where it is. If you tell me, I’ll let you live; if you don’t…” He fell silent and held up the cruel blade.

“I don’t know where it is! Oh, please, no, don’t! Please, please, oh, please, no!”

His terror was so extreme that Gabrielle felt slightly sick herself, but Ares was unmoved. He held the knife before the man’s eyes, then slashed it across his forearm. The priest screamed and fainted as Gabrielle watched Ares in horror.

Ares looked at her and said grimly, “He won’t tell me unless his own life is at stake. He’s one of those. Search them, quickly.”

Gabrielle did as he told her, but found nothing. “It’s not here. It’s not here!” She could have screamed with frustration. “Now what?”

Ares leaned down and slapped the man’s face, bringing him around. “Where is the antidote?”

“The temple, it’s at the temple.”

“Where?”

“The altar…”

“Why didn’t you bring any of it with you? This is a dangerous poison.”

“It’s… kept locked away.”

Ares suddenly saw daylight and began to chuckle. “So you couldn’t get to it because you weren’t supposed to have the poison either, and didn’t want anyone to know you were carrying it.” He laughed out loud as he understood the man’s plot in its entirely. It came to him that the little worm had no idea who Ares was; the man had needed to get all the priests into a fight, and the War God—alone and apparently unarmed (gods only knew what lies the priest had told the others)—had provided the excuse to do it. “Who were you trying to kill? Just the head priest? Or all of them? That was it, wasn’t it? And Xena simply got in the way? You despicable animal.”

The priest glared at him but made no comment. Ares straightened up and glanced at Gabrielle. “Grab a couple of those robes and let’s go.”

At that, the priest tried to sit up but fell back, already weakened by the toxin. “You can’t leave me here!”

“Watch me,” Ares said, then pushed though the foliage to the clearing where the big stallion stood waiting. Gabrielle looked at the man lying on the ground. Her instinct was to try to help, but then she saw him in her memory, too cowardly to fight, cutting Xena in a sneak attack. After that she found it very easy to follow Ares and leave the wretch where he was.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Yes… oh, please, yes… wait, what--?” Xena sat up, jerking out of her dream, and found herself being pushed gently back down by an older woman.

“There, there, don’t thrash around so. You won’t do yourself any good.”

“Where am I? What’s happened—“ she broke off as pain and giddiness washed over her. “I feel awful.”

“You were wounded. Your friends have gone after the priests while I look after you. My name is Storani.”

Xena kept her eyes closed; the tent—she was in a tent, she realized—seemed to whirl less when she did. Then she understood what the woman had said: “My … friends? Plural?”

“Why yes, the little blonde girl and that man who was with her. He carried you here.”

“What man?” She was so weak she could barely whisper, but she needed to piece it together.

“A tall, dark man, just …” she sighed, “gorgeous.”

“Oh, yes. I don’t remember much. Storani, that’s your name did you say? Oh, gods, I feel like I’m on fire.” Agony ripped through her until she knew that if she looked she’d actually see smoke rising from her burning body.

“I’m going to get more water, I’ll be right back.” Storani ducked out of the tent as Xena went over what she knew.

She could recall snatches of various events: the noise of the fight, hurling herself into the middle of it, then realizing that it was Ares—Ares!—who was fighting, then pain in her arm and things hazy and tortured. He cut me, the little bastard, and there was poison on the knife. That’s what this is… Oh, yes, he went after them and I sent Gabrielle after him...

All at once the temporary sanity and calm she’d felt slipped away from her, and she was back in the dream. The light reflecting off the river fell around her in glittering shards like molten glass, and as he walked toward her, backlit and indistinct, Xena felt her breathing quicken and her thighs tingle. He was so sexy, so desirable, so delicious. He came directly to her, pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. She ran her hands down his bare back – gods! He’s naked! – and moaned as she returned his kiss. His skin was hot to her touch and she realized she’d been longing to see him like this, to have him like this, for years unending. “Mmm … Ares … yes…”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Mmm, oof, Ares?!” Warrior was in full gallop and Gabrielle jolted out the words.

“Yes?”

“Tell me about these priests.”

“Not much to tell,” he shouted, turning his head so she could hear him over Warrior’s pounding hoofs. “They worship a god named Gitri.”

“What’s he god of?”

“Be damned if I know. My guess is it’s something unpleasant.”

“You—“ she broke off and her eyes widened as she saw the chasm before them. Ares dug his heels into the stallion’s flanks and Gabrielle grabbed him tightly, closed her eyes, and crossed her fingers as they sailed over the gap. He pulled the stallion to a halt on the other side.

“He needs a break, and we need to think about camping for the night. I’m beginning to ache. This used to be easier.” He swiveled around then grinned. Gabrielle was still hanging on as if she were drowning and he was a piece of driftwood. “Hey, let go. I need to breathe.”

She opened her eyes and sat up quickly, accidentally shoving herself backwards over Warrior’s rump. She flailed her arms wildly in an attempt to catch herself, couldn’t, and landed on her butt with a thud. Ares stared at her for a moment, trying to control himself, then erupted in gales of laughter. She tried to feel indignant about it, the arrogant bastard sitting there, howling at her predicament, but her innate good humor took over and she joined him, laughing ruefully at her clumsiness.

He dismounted and extended a hand, pulling her to her feet. “Are you ok?” he snorted, still convulsed with merriment.

“Just fine, thank you.”

“You don’t want me to take a look or anything? I’d be happy to examine—“ he was gone again, “the seat of the injury.”

“NO!” she yelped. It was the first mildly flirtatious thing he’d ever said to her and it caught her off guard. “Thank you, but I’m sure everything will turn out all right in the end.”

At that they both doubled over, laughing until they cried. It was a rollicking start to the evening, as first one or the other would begin to snicker, setting them both off once more. When they had finally finished a cold supper, set up camp and managed to get themselves under control, Gabrielle was able to put her question a second time.

“Tell me about these priests, will you?”

“They worship a god named Gitri. Who he is and what he’s god of, I have no idea. But since they use weapons like that filthy poison, I suspect they have some unspeakable rites.”

“Like the God of War?”

He glowered at her, his face darkening with anger. Then he grew contemplative, and said quietly, “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Maybe not. I’m sorry. I don’t seem to know how to act around you as a mortal. I mean now that you’re mortal.” She looked at him slyly. “I’ve learned to watch my words carefully, as you see.”

But he didn’t reply; he seemed lost in thought and very far away.

She turned away and stretched out comfortably, then realized that he had gotten up.

“Where are you going?”

“To stand watch. We’re close to the temple. No, don’t do that,” he said, as she rose and began to gather firewood. “No lights.”

She sat quietly and watched the twilight, which seemed to gather itself together and surround them with menace. She felt as if everything that was unholy was watching them, waiting for a chance.

“Ares—“

“It’s a spell designed to discourage casual travelers from coming closer. It’s unpleasant but harmless. The real dangers will be in the temple itself.”

Gabrielle lay down and tried to relax. She eventually dozed but tossed uneasily, starting up from hideous dreams in which unnamed and terrifying things were always just about to seize and devour her. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer, and got up and went to sit next to Ares.

“I—“

“Shhh.” He pointed.

Down and away across a shallow, wooded valley, miles from their camp, torches were flickering, the tiny pinpoints of light conveying not comfort but menace. Beyond, the indistinct shape of a mammoth temple squatted on the darkening skyline like a bloated fungus. She sucked in her breath. If the warding spell reached this far, Gitri must be powerful indeed. It was with no pleasure at all that she thought of the task they faced in the morning.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Ares’ hand was cool against her cheek, the freshness of the river water pleasing in the hot afternoon. She stared up at him, amazed that he should be concerned for her, and was shocked at the look of desire on his face. He was in love with Xena, she knew, and yet it was her face he held in both hands, gazing at her as if seeing her clearly at last. He bent, coming closer and closer, his lips parted now to claim her mouth as his. His lips were soft and warm, and the kiss was gentle, at least at first, then it became demanding, sensual, insistent, and Gabrielle shivered with sudden uneasiness; there was so much she didn’t know about intimacy. Then just as swiftly her nervousness was gone, replaced by desire so strong it staggered her. She pressed against him, running her hands across his chest and around his back, lost in the exquisite sensation of his smooth skin under her fingers. Oh, yes…

Gabrielle started awake, her heart pounding. The moon was high, but far from full, and the night was filled with dim, fantastic shadows. She looked around in panic, then realized that her waist was encircled from behind by familiar, and very muscular, arms.

“Hey.” He whispered the greeting, putting his finger on her lips to keep her from speaking aloud.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Keeping warm, what do you think?” he murmured back.

There was no doubt about what he thought she thought, and she clenched her teeth in annoyance. She turned her head to look at him, only to find such a smug expression on his face that she wished she had a cream pie handy.

“Are you going to lie there like that all night?” she breathed, struck by the realization that it was impossible to fight in an undertone.

“I’m, ah, comfortable,” he grinned, knowing what her reaction would be. He was right; she was embarrassed, uneasy, quietly furious—and exceedingly aware of his body pressed against hers.

“Well, I’m not!” she snapped. “Let go.”

“If you insist, but it’s cold.”

His comment brought her back to the danger of their situation; they had no fire because of the nearness of Gitri’s temple. “Why did you go off watch?”

“There’s no need. They’ve all gone into the temple; there was a slight wavering in the spell to let them in, then it resumed. With them all inside I decided to get some rest. You were the next best thing to a fire.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that comment, then realized he was gathering up their belongings. He glanced at her and saw her expression. “Yes, we’re going now.”

“But—“

“It’s further than it looks, and it’s going to be tricky to keep from being discovered. If we time it right, we should be there at dawn. That’s best.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t Xena ever explain it to you? Dawn and dusk are the times of day when it’s most difficult for mortals to see clearly. Their eyes play tricks on them then, and we can use that.”

“Oh good.”

She got up and moved toward Warrior, but Ares whispered, “No, he’s too noisy. We’re going to walk it. He’ll follow at his own pace.” He saddled the horse, murmured something to him, looped the reins up out of the way and then started off down the slope. Gabrielle sighed, picked up her gear and stalked into the shadows, following the God of War.

For the next several hours they moved silently, warily, and for the Bard it was like a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. The moon was little more than a glimmer, just enough to cast confusing shadows without really lighting their way. It seemed to her that the spell must betray them to Gitri, for there was a dreadful sense of awareness about the night. She knew, absolutely, that their every move was being watched, that the god knew exactly where they were and what they planned to do, and that they would be trapped and slain horribly long before they reached the temple. She moved more and more slowly, jumping at shadows, flinching at the slightest sound. Finally it came to a point with her where it was impossible to take another step. She felt she either had to find an end to the horror, or run in madness to meet whatever waited for her. She came to a stop and stood rigid, staring at nothing, murmuring over and over, “No, please no, please no…”

Then Ares was shaking her by the shoulders, hard. “Stop it!” he hissed. “You are in no physical danger. It’s an attack on your emotions. It’s designed to get you to scream or run, or both. Then the priests can find you. Snap out of it!”

She was staring ahead in shock, looking into darkness. Then it seemed that the darkness took form, coalesced, and became soft, liquid, velvety, seductive. She was drowning in the darkness, but this darkness wasn’t frightening; she wanted to hide there forever. Then she realized that she was gazing into Ares’ hypnotic dark eyes, falling into him, falling into the God. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear anything…

She came back to reality with a sharp indrawn breath and he clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her outcry. She exhaled slowly and then nodded, and he let her go.

She said in a very small voice: “I don’t think I’ve ever been that frightened.”

He said simply, “I know.”

After that, she knew what was happening, and when the attacks came, she recognized them as hallucinations and fought them. But the effort was immense—for Ares as well—and the two of them were drenched in sweat as they struggled against the hideous spell.

And so it went, hour after hour, as they fought the terror that lurked in their minds, a terror that was harmless as long as they found the strength to fight. And that was the worst part of it: knowing that the real danger was still to come. Had there been anything less than Xena’s life at stake, Gabrielle doubted that she could have gone on. As it was, a tiny part of her wished that they could just turn, slink back the way they had come, and leave Gitri victorious. She was ashamed of her cowardice and pushed the dishonorable thoughts away, but she would have to live with the realization that she had been tempted, at least for a moment, to save herself at Xena’s expense.

It was growing light by the time they reached the temple precincts, just as Ares had planned. He turned to her and grinned: “Now it gets interesting.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Uhhhh… oh…”

Xena’s moans and cries were guttural but loud, and Storani woke instantly. She moved to Xena’s bedside and looked at her carefully. The fever that wracked the warrior was growing worse, and the healer sponged her off with cool water, hoping against hope to comfort her. But it did little good; Xena tossed restlessly on her makeshift bed.

“Oh, oh, yes…”

It came to Storani that, at least at the moment, Xena’s outcries were of pleasure, not pain, and she was glad she hadn’t awakened her. Her dream was obviously far more pleasant than the ugly death that was approaching with appalling rapidity. She smiled and patted the younger woman’s hands.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He was so gorgeous, so exciting, the smoothness of his back a delicious contrast to the tangle of hair on his chest. That chest hair had tantalized her from the first moment she’d seen him. She trailed her fingers across his upper torso where it grew lightly, then slid her hand down to run her fingers through the thick patch that curled over his abdomen and belly. He moaned with pleasure, and gasped when she took his nipple in her mouth. It swelled against her tongue, exciting her in return, and when she let her hand drift down his body again, she found him hard and ready. His rigid organ was pleasure incarnate, and she couldn’t keep from stroking it, even when he begged her to stop before he lost control.

“Not like this, Xena, let me love you, let me take you with me…”

He grabbed her hands and kissed her, his lips swollen with passion, soft and supple, his tongue a flame of lust in her mouth.

Then they were on the bank and she was open, soft, wet and longing for him, and when he moved over her, she grasped him again, guiding him in, moaning as he filled her completely.

“Yes, oh yes, don’t ever stop… Ares…”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Ares…” Xena cried his name aloud, once again rousing Storani from her fitful doze.

Ares! thought the healer. So that’s who he is. I should have guessed; there have been rumors about those two for years, and I’ve never seen any other man half that striking. I should have known those looks were more than mortal. Hmmm, I wonder; this could be dangerous but it could also work out very well, very well indeed…

She looked at Xena as the Warrior writhed, responding to the passion of her dream, and smiled slightly. It wasn’t a nice smile.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The chanting began so softly that at first Gabrielle thought her ears were playing tricks on her. But no, there it was again: a droning, monotonous invocation in a minor key; a hymn to death and destruction, disease and misery. It made her slightly sick just to hear it.

The appalling incantation went on and on, the cadences rising and falling, growing steadily louder, until at last, with a great shout, they stopped. The silence that followed was even worse than the chanting, and was abruptly cut by a scream that tore Gabrielle’s flayed nerves to shreds. She would have screamed herself and given them away except that Ares elbowed her sharply in the ribs, knocking the air out of her. Once again, he clamped his hand over her mouth. There was another scream, followed by a sort of horrible gurgling moan, then renewed silence.

Ares took his hand from the Bard’s mouth, and held her shoulders in a firm grip. She stared at him in shock, her muscles so tight from strain that she was beginning to cramp. He said nothing, but somehow she felt his strength and calm surround her, and she began to relax. Finally she whispered, “I’m all right.”

He nodded and let her go, even as Gabrielle wondered why she was so ineffective. She’d been scared before, but not like this. She didn’t consider herself a warrior despite all the fighting she’d done since she’d joined Xena, but she had learned a great deal, enough to fight well. Now that ability had apparently deserted her, replaced by a ludicrous clumsiness and irrational terror she seemed unable to overcome. Xena would have helped her, but it wasn’t Xena at her side, it was Ares. Was that it? Was she slow, fearful and clumsy because she was so conscious of her companion? Yes! She was doing poorly because she was concentrating so hard, trying to impress him. That was it; she wanted to do well, wanted to show the smug bastard that… That what? That I’m as good as Xena? Why should I care what he thinks?

He watched her closely, then whispered, “What’s going on, Gabrielle?”

She was surprised and somewhat annoyed that he could sense her turmoil. She had never credited him with any insight, but she’d been wrong about that. It was obvious that he could read her fairly easily, and understood that she was floundering. More than that, she had fought at his side, and fought well, and she sensed that he expected her to keep up with him. He was depending on her, or at least paying her the compliment of assuming she could take care of herself, and she was falling apart.

“Nothing.”

“This is no time to play games. If you can’t go on I need to know now.”

She gulped and said quietly, “I can go on.”

“All right. I’ll take you at your word, but if you mess up again I’ll leave you here. I won’t let you kill Xena. Got it?”

She nodded shortly, hating him for being right. “How do we get in?”

“Getting in’s easy. All gods want worshippers. Getting out will be the tricky part.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to wait just a few more minutes, then join Gitri’s followers.” He pulled the blood-stiffened robes from his pack. “Put this on and do exactly what I do.”

She shuddered with distaste but did as he bade, and in a few seconds two anonymous acolytes glided toward the temple of the new god.

The doorway was a great arch of stone that led to a passage lit by flickering torches. Doorkeepers sat on either side of the arch, and Gabrielle was wondering how they would get past them, when Ares picked up a stone and tossed it into the brush near the archway. When the doorkeepers went to see what had caused the noise, the two of them moved quickly toward the entrance, then Ares dropped to the ground, covered his head with the hood of his robe and froze. Gabrielle did the same, keeping her face down as the doorkeepers returned. They looked around carefully, but as Ares had realized, the inconstant dawn light confused them, and they never saw the intruders that lay a few yards from their gate, their brownish, splotched robes blending perfectly with the dirt and scraggly weeds.

The War God moved excruciatingly slowly until he could just see the doorkeepers, and when they turned toward the temple, listening to a voice that was raising a new chant, he quickly threw another stone, farther off. Once again the guards rushed to find the cause of the disturbance, and Ares and the Bard slipped inside the gate. It opened onto a torch-lit corridor, now deserted, and they moved quickly down its length. Gabrielle was certain they were being watched, although the sensation gradually decreased the further they went. Ares was right; the spell had been hard to resist but once inside the temple it dissipated.

“Why only two gatekeepers?” she whispered.

“Temples are open to all, remember. Worshippers are free to come and go.”

“But then why the spell to keep people away?”

“Because this is no ordinary temple,” he replied. “Now keep quiet.”

They had reached another arch, this one barred by heavy, ornately carved wooden doors. Gabrielle tensed, pulled hard on the door handle, and nearly fell over backwards when it swung open easily. Ares caught her as she overbalanced, and even in the midst of their danger, he grinned. She knew exactly what he was thinking: first the horse, now this.

“You always seem to be falling for me,” he deadpanned.

Since there was no possible response that wouldn’t hand the advantage to him, Gabrielle settled for giving him a nasty look. He set her back on her feet, and they slipped into the sanctuary while behind them the doors swung shut in eerie silence.

There were huge iron braziers on either side of the doorway, but little other light. It was such a vast space that they could barely make out the walls in the gloom; the ceiling vaulted high above their heads, supported by arches that curved to meet above a central altar. Torches at its corners cast a ruddy glow over the carved stone itself, but left the rest of the room dark by comparison. The dimension of the interior was uncanny because it was manmade; a natural cavern of that size would not have affected them so strongly.

Even more disagreeable were the statues: they stood in ranks facing the altar, like an army waiting a signal to move. Gabrielle froze as the hairs rose on the back of her neck and Ares stopped at the same moment. They were staring at people, not statues, people—people seemingly locked in a trance. Here an eye glittered; there a robe rose and fell slightly with the worshipper’s breath; elsewhere another figure swayed slightly with emotion. And all were staring at the altar, where a gross, misshapen creature stood next to a pale figure lying sprawled, naked except for the brilliant scarlet ribbon around her neck. Then the hunched figure shuffled to the side of the altar, picked up a large cup, and brought it to a sort of spout set into the side of the stone. Wine, thick and dark red, was running from it in a sluggish stream…

Gabrielle’s mind suddenly presented her with the meaning of what she was seeing. The ribbon wasn’t a ribbon, it was a wound: the girl’s throat had been cut and the unspeakable monster at her side now held a cup in both hands to catch the blood as it ran from the pitiful victim down the stone channel. He raised it to his mouth and drank deeply. Nauseated, Gabrielle broke into a cold sweat while beside her Ares made a sound of disgust.

Acolytes came from behind the altar with huge jars, and the beast poured the remaining blood into them. From the jars the bearers poured the bloodwine into a number of smaller vessels, which Gabrielle now saw standing on a low rail before the stone. As one, the worshippers stepped forward to drain the cups, but there were so many that there was a great deal of jostling, resulting in a general disorder. Ares saw his opportunity and dragged Gabrielle behind one of the braziers. They were in terrible danger; if anyone came in they would be seen instantly. But the ghastly rite was so compelling that neither had a thought to spare for their safety. They crouched down, watching.

The worshippers drained the cups, and began to chant: “Gitri, Gitri, Gitri…” Just the name of their god, over and over again.

There was a sudden restlessness in the air above the altar, a movement felt more than seen, and a huge darkness began to form. It seemed both liquid and solid, and appeared somehow to bulge into the temple from somewhere else, some other realm where evil and death held sway. Two glowing red spots hovered in the swirling blackness and Gabrielle understood that the thing could see. Its eyes flashed as it looked around the temple and a stench of decay rolled over them in a sickening wave.

The chanting increased to a frenzy, then a great, hollow voice, more like the clashing of swords and spears than anything else, boomed through the temple, reverberating off the walls: “Sacrilege! SACRILEGE! You defiler! This is not for you! HOW DARE YOU!” The monstrous thing was staring directly toward their hiding place and although it couldn’t see them, it was obvious that it sensed the presence of another power within its walls.

Ares muttered, “It’s possible we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Think so?”

“Yes. I do. Definitely.”

They crept toward the wall, away from the braziers at the entrance and away from the altar, trying to lose themselves in the darkness. Gabrielle glimpsed a small side door and raced for it, Ares at her heels. Behind them the worshippers were coming slowly back to themselves, stupefied by their ritual and only half understanding that there were invaders in their holy place. The fugitives had only a few moments, but the worshippers’ confusion was enough to give them the advantage, and in a moment they were through the door into a corridor beyond. Gabrielle instinctively turned to her right, doubling back on their tracks, while behind her Ares yelled: “No, NO! Not that way!” But it was too late. She didn’t hear the click as the trap opened; she was aware only that the stone floor had given way underneath her feet and she was falling.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Drowsy and completely sated, Xena stretched like a cat in Ares’ arms, then turned and smiled at her lover. How could I have denied this? I always knew he would be fabulous, why did I fight him for so long? She shivered with delight, and reached out to caress him intimately. She could spend a lifetime exploring his gorgeous body, but it was more than that, it was the two of them together that was so amazing. She loved the way their bodies melted together, moved together, became one in an act of love that went so far beyond physical need that she knew she would never again want to live without him. She leaned down to kiss his beautiful lips, trembling a little at the memory of their softness on her skin. He smiled at her, then turned quickly, rolling her over so that he was on top. He always wants to be in control she thought happily, as he began to nuzzle her neck gently, licking and nibbling while she felt herself open in anticipation, getting wet and ready for him again.

Cold, so cold, so alone. She sat up quickly, looking for Ares, but he was gone. And there was something coming, something huge and unspeakable, something out of another time and place. It had already taken Gabrielle, it had taken Ares, it was coming for her…

Her shriek of terror brought Storani to her feet.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh, gods,” Gabrielle moaned as she regained consciousness. The Bard’s head ached, as did every bone and muscle. Blood was running into her eyes from a deep gash on her forehead, and she could barely see. But she could see enough: Ares stood rigid, facing the door of what seemed to be a dungeon, where something lurked, trying to get in and tear them apart. Sweat was streaming down his face, and she knew instinctively that he and Gitri were locked in battle, though neither was moving. He said, speaking clearly and quite calmly: “Help me, Gabrielle.” She staggered to her feet and threw her arms around him, and cried aloud when the contact snatched her from her reality into a nightmare world.

They stood on a battlefield littered with corpses, weapons and body parts. It was slippery with blood and gore and it reeked of death. The sky was blood red but the light was a poisonous green, and Gabrielle caught her breath as she saw Gitri clearly for the first time. It had come from its temple, a shadowy duplicate of the one she had just left, and it towered over Ares, reaching for him. A vast implacable force bent on destruction, it was a disgusting mass of flesh and putrescence that streamed with blood, vomit and slime. Gabrielle had never seen anything to which she could compare it; it seemed like a cross between a dragon and an octopus: a thing of claws, tentacles, fire, immense strength and fury. Even if he had still been a god, it would have been difficult for Ares to defeat Gitri, but as a mortal he had almost no chance at all. And Gabrielle realized that if Ares were to die she would mourn. The realization surprised her and gave her renewed strength at the same time. They would not lose this contest, and she would not lose him.

Gitri reached for Ares, a mass of hideous arms writhing toward the god like snakes. Ares leapt in close to the monster, chopped at it with the beautiful sword Gabrielle knew so well, and ducked away again. Gitri howled in pain and rage, and spat fire at the War God. Ares rolled quickly, dodging the blast, even as Gabrielle attacked the fiend from the other side.

Her sais weren’t sharp, but she used both hands and stabbed Gitri with all her strength. She managed to get in the blow near the spinal cord, and the creature twisted in agony. It heaved its bulk round, trying to get at the insignificant girl who had dared to assault it. It was fast and its speed was nearly fatal: one clawed hand ripped a deep gash open in her thigh before she could dodge. She went down hard.

Ares lunged again, hacking off more of its arms before moving away. Gitri struck out at the fleeing figure and raked a claw across Ares’ back. Pain and dizziness washed over him and he dropped, his back on fire; Gitri raised its bulk into the air.

It would crush this insolent little god; grind him to jelly. The monster’s mind went blank, oblivious to everything else, seeing only the black-clad figure, streaming blood, trying to get to his feet…

Pain, white hot and unendurable, brought the beast to a halt. Gabrielle had struck again, burying her second sai directly in the spinal cord. Gitri rose to its full height, bellowing in fury as Gabrielle screamed “Ares!”

Her cry gave him renewed strength, and with a shout of rage he hurled his sword into Gitri’s eye. He threw with such force that the blade shattered the brainpan and protruded from the top of the behemoth’s skull. Gitri roared, its claws tugging at the hilts in a reflex action but it was already dead, falling, crashing in ruin onto the blood-soaked plain.

And then Gabrielle was sitting on the floor of the dungeon, Ares slumped beside her, while at the door something snarled and spit blood and died and faded away. She took a deep breath and looked around, hardly believing that they had survived. But they had; their battered and bleeding bodies were grim proof of that.

“Ares! Are you all right?”

He raised his head and smiled slightly. “I’ve had better days.”

“Uh—“ Gabrielle had a sudden horrible thought but couldn’t find words.

“What?”

“Well—“

“Come on!”

“How did it know who you are? I mean, it came straight toward us, as if it could sense us—or sense you, more likely. Did it… come for you?”

“Gods I hope not! Having that thing around would be almost as bad as listening to Joxer singing that stupid song of his.”

“Ares—“

“Sorry, bad joke. I don’t know, Gabrielle. You’re right, I think it knew me, but I don’t know how. Oh.”

“What?”

“It was obviously a war god. It came from a battlefield, after all, not a sea, for instance. Maybe that’s the connection. Well, there’s no time to worry about it now.” He glanced at her blood-covered face and said, “Let me see that.”

He examined the cuts on her leg and forehead. Both were deep but luckily neither was life-threatening. Ares struggled to his feet, looked around, and found a dirty rag in a corner of the cell. He came back to the Bard and dropped to the floor, ripped the rag into two pieces, then bound the wounds with surprisingly gentle hands. “This isn’t a great idea, but there’s nothing else.” He looked at her quizzically for a moment, then said, “You look like a pirate.”

“Arrrrr,” she replied, and they both laughed and felt much better. “Let me see you. Take off the vest.”

He removed the tattered leather and she looked carefully at his back. The gash ran diagonally from his waist to his right shoulder but he too had been lucky: the cut was shallow and had almost stopped bleeding. “Let me clean that—“

“No time. We’ve got to find the antidote and get—“

“Antidote! Oh, gods, could Gitri have—are these wounds—have we been poisoned?” Her voice was full of horror.

“No, thank all the gods. If they do become infected it will be because Gitri’s hygiene left something to be desired.”

Gabrielle sighed with relief. If he could still make his usual smart-ass remarks, he was going to be okay—they were both going to be okay. He got up and helped her to her feet, an exercise that seemed to take an inordinate effort. They were leaning on one another when he chuckled: “Isn’t there something about the blind leading the blind?”

She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “Yeah. Fits, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed. Damn.”

“What?”

“I’m worn out.”

“I’m not surprised. How long where you fighting that thing before I woke up?”

“Don’t know. Seemed like eternity.”

“Then lean on me. I’ll carry the--”

She stopped short when she realized their weapons were gone. Buried in the monster’s body, they had dissolved when Gitri died. “Ares, we have no weapons.”

“Why am I not surprised? We’ll manage.” He put his arm around her shoulders, then swayed. “I’m in worse shape than I thought.”

“That wasn’t you,” she gasped. “The temple’s coming down!”

He straightened up, and together they raced to the door and up the stairs, only to find their way blocked by falling rock. They went back down, passed the dungeon, moving on into the darkness.

“Ares, there’s no way out down here—“

“Yes there is, can’t you feel it?”

She did then, a whisper of fresh air on her face. There was a way out if they could only find it. Behind them stones crashed to the floor and they choked in a cloud of dust; the dungeon caved in with a roar and the entire temple began to settle on top of them.

“Ares!”

“You rang?”

She could have screamed at his flippancy, but realized that her panic wasn’t going to help. They were already moving as fast as they could, scrambling over stones, following the soft breeze that blew against their faces. Finally, Gabrielle saw a glimmer of light: “There!”

The opening was tiny, but the stone had shifted enough for them to enlarge it. They worked frantically, then climbed through—and Gabrielle gasped in dismay. They weren’t outside, but in another cavern! Vines grew thickly over the walls, and crept across the floor to a pool. It was this that reflected the light; the actual entrance was high up on the wall.

“Damn damn damn!” At the moment, the prospect of climbing those last few feet was more terrifying than facing Gitri had been. She was at the end of her strength, and Ares was moving on will power alone. Then the roar of the crumbling temple was overlaid by a venomous hiss, much closer, and they whirled to find themselves facing the monster that lived in the water.

“A sea hydra,” Ares said, a sort of resigned exasperation in his voice. “I hate these guys.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The serpent hissed again, reared back, and struck. Ares and Gabrielle leapt out of its way, going in opposite directions. They knew the hydra was swift but not particularly cunning, and would be confused when its target apparently “split”. Ares quickly wrapped the ends of several vines around his waist and dove into the pool, grateful now that he had taken time to learn to swim. Gabrielle shouted and stamped, trying to get the monster’s attention. The hydra swung this way and that, uncertain what to do. In those moments, Ares swam under the beast, came up on the other side and climbed out of the pool. He dodged as the monster snapped at him, and quickly dived again, directly over the creature, trailing the vines. Gabrielle suddenly understood, grabbed more vines and jumped after him.

It took several more such risky maneuvers, but they managed to wrap the strong vines around the monster several times, hampering its movement until they could get away. They clambered out of the water and struggled up the side of the cavern toward the hole. The trapped hydra hissed in fury but couldn’t get to them. They reached the opening, climbed out of the cavern and stumbled down the hill, entering the temple from the side opposite the gate.

Most of it had fallen in, but they recognized the arches of the sanctuary roof and began to make their way toward it. It was an agonizingly slow process: the rubble shifted under their feet; they stepped on unstable slabs that reared up and threatened to dump them into bottomless pits; stones fell from the roof and they dodged repeatedly. They were deadly tired but they somehow kept going, telling themselves there was nothing to stop them.

They had reached the remains of the sanctuary when the temple itself, imbued with the evil of its god, made a final bid to keep its prey.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“My dear, wake up! It’s all right, you were dreaming—“

Xena clutched Storani’s hands as she fought to free herself from the nightmare. The thing, whatever it was, was close behind, then it seemed to falter and fall back, and she knew without looking that it was dying.

She woke fully and stared at the healer. “Oh, gods, it, I…”

“That’s all right, Xena, lie still. It was a dream, only a dream.”

Only a dream, thank all the gods. That horrible creature, where did it come from? It doesn’t belong here, it’s from Outside, somewhere beyond this reality… And then she remembered the rest, the passion she’d shared with Ares, and she couldn’t quite stop the smile that curved her lips, in spite of her pain and fear. I wonder if he really is that good…

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The attack was so subtle, so cunning, that neither Ares nor Gabrielle recognized it for what it was. Most of the temple floor had given way, and the towering walls had huge gaps in them. The ceiling was crumbling, except for the keystone arches high above the altar, which seemed to hang suspended in midair, like ribs from which the flesh has rotted away.

Stones still fell, and the two picked their way carefully across the floor to the altar where the precious antidote was hidden. They were watching carefully for any attack, expecting the acolytes to come after them. But there was nothing, except…

“What was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything, Gabrielle. They’re all gone, it’s just nerves. Come on.”

As they moved to the altar, it seemed to them that the very stones themselves became important, sly, holding secret meanings, meanings for Ares and Gabrielle only, meanings that they could decipher if they were willing to listen. This time, there was no terror, no sense of something waiting to devour them, instead there crept into the air a feeling of hunger and longing, deepening quickly to lust. It ran like fire along their nerves and made them intensely aware of one another as more than companions in adventure: they were a man and woman, alone together, filled with growing desire…

Look, it whispered to Gabrielle, see how beautiful he is. How sensual he is. Look at the strength of his arms, the fullness of his lips. Imagine how they would feel on yours. Imagine what it would be like to lie naked against him. Look at the way he moves, the power and grace of his body. His body. His body. His body…

Gabrielle stopped and stared at the War God, only to find him gazing back at her, his lips parted.

Look, it whispered to Ares, see how beautiful she is. How sensual she is. Look at the loveliness of her eyes, the richness of her lips. Imagine how they would feel on yours. Imagine what it would be like to hold her naked in your arms. Look at the way she moves, the power and grace of her body. Her body. Her body. Her body…

Gabrielle had her back to the altar, and as Ares slowly came to her she held out her arms. He embraced her and she bent backwards, soft, yielding, lying uncaring on the bloody stone, while high above them a massive block shifted, loosened and dropped from the arch…

It was Ares’ battle sharpened instincts that saved them. He heard the faint whistling as the stone plummeted through the air, and rolled quickly aside, yanking Gabrielle with him. The block crashed down onto the altar where they had lain an instant before, and splintered into rubble.

For a moment they lay still in each other’s arms, too stunned to move, then Ares asked, “Are you all right?” She couldn’t say anything and he shook her impatiently: “Gabrielle! Answer me!”

“Y—yes.” She stammered. “I’m all right.”

But for her something had changed. Although she understood now that most of her sudden desire for Ares had been a last trick of the vengeful Gitri, she also knew that some tiny part of her response had been triggered by a very real need for him. The thought didn’t please her. She looked at him and saw the same uncomfortable awareness in his eyes. Swell.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“This? This is it?” Gabrielle looked at the small vial in disbelief.

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, but this—“

“The poison is very powerful. Remember, it took only the tiny amount on a knife blade to—“

“I remember.” She didn’t want to hear him say it, didn’t want to face the fact that Xena was dying, might already be dead.

In a supreme irony, the stone that had nearly killed them had turned out to be of value. Its weight, crashing onto the altar, had sprung open a secret compartment in which the antidote was hidden. The little hollow was so cunningly made that it would have taken hours to find it, even though the priest had said it was in the altar stone. Ares grabbed the tiny bottle with relief, uncorked it and sniffed it carefully. He nodded to Gabrielle, recorked it and tucked it away inside his vest.

They were hurrying back to the great gate when Gabrielle spotted the wine jars that had been used in the ceremony. Although she was leery of the horrible bloodwine, she was also thirstier than she could remember ever being in her life, and she didn’t care now what she drank, as long as it was wet. She dipped a cup in the jar and drank it off without stopping. There was only wine in the jar; and not only had it not been used in the ceremony, it was the most delicious, refreshing, cooling vintage she had ever tasted. She tossed off another cup, and refilled it. She was on her third when Ares came back for her, and he almost literally had to pry her away from the jug.

“What in Tartarus do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting something to drink, what’s it look like? I’m so thirsty I could drink a river!”

“Be careful with that stuff. Sacramental wine packs a punch.”

“Hah! This is like water.”

She finished her third cup, refilled it, and had drained it again by the time they got out of the temple and found the faithful Warrior waiting for them.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

They were too tired and sore to travel far, but Ares insisted they at least leave Gitri’s valley before they stopped. They stumbled down off the stallion and simply sat, too tired to think of a fire, eating, or even making up a bed. They had to get back to Xena, but in spite of their fears that they would be too late, they had to stop for a few hours. They had to survive if Xena was to live, and they were desperate for rest. As it was, stopping turned out to be a very good thing, for Gabrielle had found out that sacramental wine packed a punch indeed. Later she found time to wonder if her desire for the wine came from thirst or was a suggestion to slow them down; right now she was helplessly drunk.

Ares had finally roused himself, found clean cloth and water, washed and rebandaged Gabrielle’s leg and forehead. She sponged off his back in return, and by the time they were through, Gabrielle would have been lucky to remember her own name.

The Bard peered at Ares, who seemed to be wavering back and forth. Or maybe she was the one swaying. She wasn’t sure; but she was sure that she wanted him to answer a question that had been bothering her for days; in fact, ever since she had first put her arms around him. It seemed even more important now, since the moment in the temple.

“Ares?”

“Yes, Gabrielle.” There was more than a hint of laughter in his voice and she suspected she was more than a little intoxicated. She blinked solemnly like an owl in daylight, then said, “Oh, nev’ mind.”

“OK.”

A few moments later she said, “Ares?”

“I’m still here.”

“I wanna ask you somethin’.”

“More questions about doing the right thing?”

She waved her hand in front of her nose, either dismissing his comments or waving away imaginary cobwebs; Ares wasn’t sure which.

“Naw, not like them. Somethin’ Xena said.”

“Well in that case I’m sure the phrase ‘lying bastard’ comes into it.”

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Nope.”

“I get the idea. What did she say? Gabrielle?”

She was sitting straight as a post, staring directly through him, thinking back. She needed to get this right.

It had been in one of their many conversations that seemed to center on Ares. They needed to talk to him, and Xena seemed reluctant to call him. When Gabrielle had asked why and volunteered to go, Xena had answered her with a startling question. She had looked at the Bard and asked, “You’ve never kissed him, have you?”

“Me? Certainly not! Why do you ask that, of all things?”

“Because every time I see him it gets harder and harder to resist him. There are days, I hate to admit, when I want to climb into his bed and stay there for the rest of my life.” She grinned. “Did I ever tell you he’s a great kisser?”

“Huh?”

Xena smiled her catlike smile. “Mmmm-hmmm. He likes to take his time and he knows just how and where to lick -- never mind! Forget it; I can’t believe I said that.”

Forget it? As if! In the end, it had been Xena after all who went to talk to Ares, but the revelation fascinated Gabrielle. The God of War was gorgeous, of course, but then so were most of the immortals. But none were as sexy. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever met anyone, man or god, who was nearly as attractive.

She came back with a start to find the object of her fantasies gazing directly into her eyes. “Wha--?”

“What did Xena say?”

Gabrielle giggled and blurted it out. “She said you were a great kisser. Great. GREAT. Are you?”

Ares’ eyes widened, then a smile played on the lips that Gabrielle was watching intently. “That’s really not for me to say. Besides, anything I say now will be wrong.”

“I wanna fin’ out.” She leaned toward him, heeling over like a tall ship in heavy seas.

Ares took her shoulders and pushed her away gently. “I’d be delighted to give you a demonstration, but I prefer my partners conscious. Tell you what—if you can remember your question later, I’ll let you decide if Xena’s right or not. Fair enough?”

“Not now?”

“No.”

“Okaaaaay.” She tipped over quite suddenly then, rolled onto her side, and fell headlong into sleep, as if Morpheus himself had clocked her one with his Slumberclub.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Her awakening several hours later wasn’t particularly pleasant. She was aware of a splitting headache, and then a much more unfortunate problem. Ares glanced at her from the fire he was tending and said, “We have many convenient shrubs for your use. Pick one.”

She rushed to a bush at the edge of the clearing and was sick into its shiny green leaves. Behind her Ares roared with laughter: “Good choice! The laurel’s sacred to Apollo, the pompous twit!”

She was sick again, and then felt vastly improved. Her headache was bearable and the sickness was nearly gone. She went to the stream where Warrior was tied, rinsed her mouth vigorously several times, then scrubbed her teeth with clean sand and finished by chewing mint. It freshened her mouth, settled her stomach, and when she made her way back to Ares the headache was gone and she was ravenous. He was roasting small birds on a spit and they smelled wonderful.

“What was that stuff?”

“Gitri’s sacramental wine. I did warn you. I’m surprised the bush is still alive.”

“Maybe I should learn to listen to you once in a while.”

“You never paid any attention to me when I was a god, why would you start now? Here. Eat and we’ll go.”

“I don’t think I can—“

“Yes, I’m tired too. But Xena doesn’t have much time left.”

He handed her one of the fowl and they ate quickly, then began to pack up the small campsite. He had picked up Warrior’s saddle and was going to get the horse when Gabrielle said in a strange tone, “This isn’t a good time, but there’s never likely to be one. So… are you?”

“Am I what? Oh!” He grinned. “So you want to find out?”

“Yes.”

He cocked his head, then said, “OK. Why not? I’ll admit to being curious.”

He walked to her and she was amazed to feel her heartbeat quicken. (Look. See how beautiful he is…) He smiled again, then bent to touch her lips with his own.

His mouth was beautifully made and generously proportioned, and his lips were soft and warm. Gabrielle shivered and thought, OK, well, that’s nice, but—and then she felt the tip of his tongue slide between her lips. And it was quite a while before she could think coherently again.

He licked her softly, then pulled away to study her face. (Look. See how beautiful she is…) She gasped and moved closer to him, opening her lips for him. His mouth touched hers once more and she felt him smile, then he pressed his lips hard against hers and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her, exploring her, sweeping it across her teeth and along the roof of her mouth. She was startled to hear herself moan.

He pulled away again, surprised as much by his own reaction as hers. What had begun as a game was rapidly spiraling out of control into something much more serious. Gabrielle? Xena’s irritating little sidekick? What is this about? And what the hell am I doing wasting precious time? This is crazy! But he wanted to kiss her again.

Then he sensed them. Gitri’s priests were close, and he knew that they were behind this ill-timed encounter, weaving spells commanding the two of them to wait, to forget their desperate mission, to make love while they closed in for the kill. Anger surged through him and he held Gabrielle more tightly than he intended; she squeaked in surprise. “Sorry.”

He loosened his grip but still held her close, and ran his tongue lightly up the side of her neck to her ear while she squirmed with arousal. The priests’ influence was only a part of it; the desire that had sprung into life between the two of them was exciting and they didn’t want to let each other go. He whispered, “Do you have any weapons at all?” then nipped her earlobe gently with his teeth.

“Wha—“ she started loudly, but Ares stifled her mouth with his. When he let her go he leaned down and whispered, “I said do you have any weapons? And keep quiet about it.”

Suddenly she understood. “How many are there?” she whispered back.

“Six behind you, probably that many behind me.”

“No, but there’s a heavy stick by the, um, bush.”

“Uh-huh.” He breathed his words softly into her ear. “When I kiss you again, I want you to protest and push me away. Then walk slowly over and get it, like you’re thinking things over, then go back to the fire and get ready for the fight of your life.”

He tilted her head back and kissed her again, another deep searching kiss that left Gabrielle breathless. If she died in the next few minutes at least she’d found out that Xena’s comment was accurate, if not actually a gross understatement. She almost forgot to play her part, but then pushed away from him, shaking her head, and walked toward the bush. The heavy branch was almost the same size and shape as her fighting staff, and it felt good in her hand. She called, “We can break this up for fuel,” and moved toward the fire.

Ares walked slowly toward her, unsmiling. “Don’t change the subject, and don’t push me away now, Gabrielle, not after the way you kissed me. Don’t play the games Xena did.” He came to stand in front of her, but then apparently noticed something in the fire, for he crouched down as if to examine it more closely.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Xena lay motionless on the narrow bed, her fever still raging but her body no longer able to fight. Her face was hollow, the cheeks sunken in and the bones prominent; it had begun to take on the grayish hue of death. The stillness frightened Storani far more than her thrashing and moans had done. It was the beginning of the end.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Ares snatched a burning stick from the fire and threw it into the bush where Gabrielle had so unceremoniously deposited Gitri’s wine. But since she had had nothing to eat all day, it was only wine that she spewed, and that now exploded into flame. Ares raced across the clearing even as a high-pitched scream came from behind the bush, and a priest, his robes blazing, staggered into view. Ares grabbed the sword from the man’s hand and ran him through, whirled and caught a second man in the neck, slicing his jugular.

Gabrielle grabbed the staff, and spun on her heel to smash it across the head of the priest who was rushing silently toward her, dagger raised. She split his skull, and drove the end of the staff into the stomach of another. He doubled over, gasping for air, and she brought the staff down hard across his back. She heard the snap of bone and he was still.

Behind her, Ares dropped his third opponent, and then the priests were gone. Ares and Gabrielle exchanged a glance, then Ares rasped, “Warrior!” and the two raced down to the stream where the horse was tied. The priests were already there, slashing at the rearing stallion with their knives. Ares didn’t doubt that the blades were poisoned, and blood streamed down Warrior’s gleaming coat. If the stallion went down, their only chance to save Xena went with him; and the thought that they should have come so far and fought such battles only to be defeated by a despicable attack on a dumb animal was too much. It infuriated Ares and Gabrielle as nothing else could have done. They hurtled down the slope in silence, their only thought to kill every last one of the loathsome bastards as quickly as possible.

The fury of their charge overwhelmed the priests who shrieked and scrambled over each other, trying to get away. Some lost their footing and fell into the stream where Gabrielle finished them with her staff. Others died on Ares’ deadly blade; still others were crushed by the stallion’s fearsome hooves. Basically cowards, they had no stomach to face such skilled opponents, particularly not the God of War. The few who didn’t die in those first moments ran. Ares started after them but Gabrielle yelled, “Ares! We’ve got to save Xena!”

Too rushed to bother going back to the campsite, Ares swung up onto Warrior’s bare back and reached down for Gabrielle. He hauled her up behind him and she clamped her arms around his waist, hung on and talked to all the gods she knew, praying they would be in time.

They rode fast but it soon became apparent that Warrior was suffering badly. The greathearted stallion would have run until he dropped, but that would have left them unhorsed a day from their goal, and surely too late. Ares reined the animal to a stop.

“Get down.” He took Gabrielle’s hand and swung her to the ground, then dropped off Warrior’s back.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done back at the camp. If he dies, Xena dies. Give me some water.”

Gabrielle slipped the water skin over her head, thanking all the gods, including the one standing beside her, that she had filled it that morning. She laved water over the multiple injuries, cursing steadily under her breath at people who hurt animals and children. Ares moistened his finger with the antidote and put a precious trace of the drug into each of the wounds. When he was done, Warrior seemed stronger, but there was little of the precious fluid left.

“Is it enough?” Gabrielle asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. It will have to be, won’t it?”

She looked at him, eyes wide in horror and disbelief. “You won’t let her die after all this?”

“I have no powers, Gabrielle. But maybe it will be enough if we can get it to her. She’ll have to fight for her life herself. Let’s go.”

“I’m so tired…” The words were out before she thought about them, and she felt ashamed for complaining when Xena was in such danger.

“Ride in front and give your arms a rest,” he said, and almost literally threw her onto Warrior’s back. She held the reins as he vaulted up behind her and then reached around her to take them from her nerveless hands. She let them go gladly, and he clucked softly to the stallion, who responded by tossing his head and breaking into a trot, then a gallop, finally a flat-out run. The rhythm soothed Gabrielle, and she leaned back against Ares and fell into a fitful doze. She wasn’t able to rest, but she couldn’t seem to stay awake.

Hour after hour the great horse ran, bearing them back to the woman they both loved. All at once Gabrielle felt herself hurtling through the air, and she and Ares landed in a heap. Warrior had fallen and lay quivering, unable to rise. Ares put a hand on the stallion’s proud neck, then turned away and began to run. Gabrielle ran after him.

It seemed forever, but was probably no more than an hour later, when she began to recognize landmarks, and knew they were approaching the village where Xena lay. The Bard was panting and nauseated, her lungs on fire, and Ares was dead white, lines she had never noticed before etched onto his face by total exhaustion. He stumbled and fell, but got up and staggered on. She could only lurch after him, lost in her own nightmare. Suddenly there was the tent, and Ares was inside. He forced what was left of the antidote into Xena’s mouth and watched her face anxiously, fearful that they had come too late, that it had all been in vain, that he was going to lose her after all.

Then she opened her eyes, and smiled slightly, and he could let go. He dropped to the floor, completely drained. Gabrielle, her head spinning with fatigue, saw the terrible gray color start to fade from Xena’s face; and then the Warrior Princess held out her hand. Gabrielle took it and squeezed it tightly, then slumped against Ares as the world spun and went black.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Come on, time to wake up. That’s it, now sit up.” Gabrielle opened her eyes to find Storani beside her. She was dressed in a clean, though worn, linen gown and her wounds had been expertly tended. She glanced across the tent to see Xena lying quietly. She grabbed Storani’s hand: “Is she all right? Were we in time?”

“Oh, yes. She’s fine. There wasn’t quite enough of the antidote to entirely heal her, but she did the rest. She’s simply sleeping now, and will wake completely well.” She sighed. “I was so afraid yesterday; I thought she was lost.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes. You’ve slept nearly 24 hours.”

Only then did Gabrielle realize there were only three of them in the tent. Oh, no! He’s not—he can’t be—dead. “What happened… where—“ she stammered, “did he, is he—“

“He’s gone. He said something about a horse.”

“Oh. Oh!” Gabrielle rose quickly and stooped to leave the tent. She turned and said, “Please tell her I went to see to … a friend.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

She found him where Warrior had fallen, and where he still lay. Ares crouched beside the stallion, stroking his neck, and Gabrielle was astonished to see tears in the god’s eyes. I should learn to give him the benefit of the doubt occasionally.

He saw her and stood, brushing his hand across his face. She was touched by the fact that he obviously didn’t want her to see him crying: the great God of War, moved by the misery of an animal.

“I had to make a choice, and of course I chose Xena. The antidote helped, but he ran so hard that the poison spread everywhere. I—I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.”

“There’s something I can do.” The voice was Xena’s. Ares and Gabrielle turned as one to stare at her; then they both moved to embrace her, and the three of them clung together for several long moments. Xena kissed Gabrielle, then turned and looked at Ares. “That’s twice you’ve risked everything to save my life.”

He cocked his head, one eyebrow raised. “I had help.”

“But you were the one who said ‘I’m going after them.’ And did.”

“Yeah. But he’s paying the price.” He gestured to Warrior who lay, his breathing uneven, his eyes showing the whites.

“What have you done to help him?”

“I washed out the cuts and put a tiny bit of the antidote in each one, but—“

“They’re healing,” Xena said, as she walked around the animal scrutinizing him carefully. “Oh—here it is!” She pointed to a deep cut hidden in the crease between leg and body.

“Damn, I should have seen that!”

“Mortals miss things, it’s one of the facts of life,” Xena smiled. “If I can clean this out and massage in the last of the antidote, it will help. Then I’ll need to find some herbs to draw the poison.”

“Herbs. What about the healer?” Ares asked.

“The last of the antidote?” asked Gabrielle.

“Yes. The vial is still closed, and there may be just a tiny, tiny bit left. And Storani? She left when I came after you. Gabrielle, you know what mosswort looks like. I’ll need as much as you can find. Go with her, Ares. There.” She pointed to a thicket a hundred yards away.

The two ran to the bushes and began searching for the herb. “It’s here, Xena!” Gabrielle called, as the other woman began cleaning out the deep wound on Warrior’s leg. The stallion nickered softly and moved away from her hand. “Easy, boy, I’ve got to help you.”

He quieted and Xena resumed her task, cursing, as Gabrielle had done, the type of monster that would hurt an animal. Even Ares at his worst wouldn’t have done such a thing.

“Here,” Gabrielle said, “Start with this.”

She gave Xena a double handful of the weed, and Xena packed it into the cut. “I need more.”

Ares came up and handed her more of the herb, then looked anxiously at the horse. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know yet. Just keep bringing the mosswort.”

He did as she told him and when the wound was packed with the herb, Xena bound it tightly and the three sat down to wait for whatever was to come.

Xena looked intently at the War God, and then said, “Ares. I want to thank you again for what you did for me.”

“I love you. What else could I have done?” He glanced at her and then back at Warrior, unwilling to play the “you get to me, but…” scene yet again, but Xena scooted over to sit beside him, then slid her hand up to the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. He stiffened and shook his head: “Don’t.”

She whispered, “No games, I promise,” and leaned toward him again. It was the kiss he’d dreamed of for so long: her mouth was soft, open, and warm, and when their tongues met desire exploded in him, leaving him breathless and shaking.

He explored her mouth eagerly, and she moaned and moved even closer. She was deeply aroused, and she wanted him, wanted to follow her dream. She held him close and kissed him with ardor, finally allowing herself to give in to the passion that simmered between them.

Gabrielle watched them, uncertain of what to do or how she felt. She loved Xena more than her own life, but now it was she who might have to admit she “felt something” for Ares, a development she had never expected. He was holding the woman he had wanted for all eternity, and the Bard didn’t exist for him any longer. That hurt. She would have to think about the whole situation, though she knew already what her decision would be: she would go with Xena, without question. But if she did, she’d have to leave Ares, and that was going to be surprisingly difficult. It might be difficult for him as well, for she understood that some part of what had happened between them was true. A strange thought occurred to her: I wonder if we could make a go of it, the three of us.

Suddenly Warrior neighed loudly and coughed, and frothy liquid bubbled through the bandage. Xena quickly untied it, and a stream of nasty-smelling liquid welled out of the wound. She grabbed the water skin from Gabrielle and washed it away, then brought out the tiny vial of antidote. She held it upside down and one precious drop ran out onto her finger. She spread it carefully into the wound, and repacked it with mosswort. Then she smiled and said, “I think he’s going to be all right.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“What now, Xena?” Ares asked. They were outside the tent; although it had terrible associations for them, it had seemed a logical place for the three of them to spend the night. Warrior, weak but on the mend, nuzzled Ares affectionately, and the War God ran his hand over the stallion’s neck. It was odd to see him so openly kind, and Xena found her perceptions of him changing yet again.

“I don’t know. I have to think about this away from you.”

“Why do you have to leave me?”

“Because you’re too exciting, dammit! I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

“So I still get to you.”

“Oh, yes…” He cut her off with a kiss that deepened into a thing of intense hunger and mutual need. Xena moaned and stroked his chest, running her fingers through the hair as she had in her dream; she wanted nothing more at that moment than to lie with him, to make love until they were both exhausted. But instead she broke away.

“I—don’t know any longer how I feel about you,” she confessed. “I’ve always wanted you, even when I hated you the most. But now I think maybe, maybe it’s more. Please let me figure this out on my own.”

“Xena—“

“No. No. I’ll find you.”

Gabrielle came out at that moment, dressed as usual in her halter-top and skirt, with her sais tucked into her boots. Ares gave her a smart-alecky grin and said, “You’re quite a handful, baby. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Right back at ya.” She touched his arm, and he took her chin in his hand and kissed her mouth lightly. The contact re-ignited the longing they’d felt earlier, and Xena’s eyes widened as she watched the kiss. She had no doubt Ares had meant it to be a light good-bye gesture, but it was turning out to be anything but casual. The desire between the two was as surprising as it was obvious, and Xena was not at all pleased. But she suddenly had an intriguing idea: What about the three of us together?

Ares let Gabrielle go, looked at her and said, “Take care of her. And yourself.”

Gabrielle nodded, and the two women turned and walked away. Ares watched them for several minutes, and was surprised and pleased when they both turned to wave goodbye just before they disappeared from sight. He waved back, then led Warrior in the opposite direction. Maybe he could find a warlord who needed a decent fighter. And maybe, just maybe, Xena would come to find him. He would wait, and hope.

And what about Gabrielle? an inner voice asked. Don’t try to tell me she’s still nothing more than the irritating blonde! Ares shook his head to try to clear away unwelcome thoughts. Then all at once he had a peculiar idea: I wonder if the three of us could make it work. He was considering possibilities and potential as he disappeared over the crest of a hill.

Storani emerged slowly from the trees and studied the tall, dark man as he walked beside his horse, talking to it gently and rubbing its muzzle. She watched until he was out of sight, then turned her head and spoke softly over her shoulder: “He’s gone west, the women went east.”

A second figure came slinking out of the woods: the cowardly priest who had cut Xena. “I think perhaps I can arrange a surprise for those three.”

“Be careful, you know who he is.”

“Yes, thanks to you. But he’s mortal now.”

“He’s still probably the best warrior in the world. And he’s very strong, he was up and out long before the little one was awake.” She looked around carefully and lowered her voice. “Well?”

“Here. There will be more when this is over. You will have everything you ever wanted.”

He handed her a little bag that was obviously heavy and jingled with a metallic noise. In return she handed him a small bottle of heavy glass. He opened it, poured a single drop onto a clean cloth and wiped it with exquisite care onto the blade of the dagger he held. “For Gitri,” he said.

“For Gitri,” she repeated. They bowed solemnly to one an