Look in her Eyes FF NEW!! ch 4

Herein lies the further
telling of the tale,
of the Warrior Princess, Xena,
without her Bard, Gabrielle.
Rendered as it was found
on an old weathered scroll,
this tale that I tell
is the tale that it told.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Look in her Eyes chapter 4
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"We gotta get that jinx offa this ship!" He tossed the knife *whhhhhisshhh* in the air and caught it *thwaaapp*, over and over, as he spoke. He nearly missed the last time, as the ship lurched unexpectedly, and his knife *whhhhhiished* dangerously close to the ear of the man standing closest to him. A man with a broken nose and many, many cuts and bruises. "Oooops! Sorry, Julius."

"Be careful wi' that thing, will ya? That be one o' the sharpest blades I ever did see, and I'll thank ye kindly to keep it away from me nos--er, face. And as for the warrior *jinxess*, I say we throw 'er overboard!"

"I say we kill 'er!"

"I say we kill 'er *and* throw 'er overboard!"

The little man stood close to the doorway, the same little man who had brought her the scroll. He listened as the men shouted their agreement and cheered themselves on. As their shouts died away, he listened. They all listened.

One of them found his voice. "It's stopped. Her screams, they've stopped."

The men cast fearful glances at each other and at the hold door, fearful that a dark figure would appear there at any moment to put an end to their plotting. But no dark figure entered the doorway, no sound was heard, except the sound of the wind, the sound of the ship on the sea, and the pounding of their own hearts, pounding in their chests and in their ears.

But the wind began to grow . The ship lurched again, tossed by winds and waves growing stronger, more violent.

"Where's the cap'n?!" The little man shouted.

The men cast knowing glances at each other, and smirked at him. "The cap'n be where the cap'n always be, don't he."

As if on cue--"All dands on heck! There be bouble atrewin'!" The captain got as far as the door to his cabin before the next wave hit, causing him to lose what balance he had. He lost his grip on his bottle of rum, which smashed against the hard wood at his feet. "Blast!" He yelled as he staggered back to his bed, back to another bottle, and was soon unconscious again.

"I tell ya," one of them shouted as they headed for the stairs leading topside, "I tell ya she be *cursed*, that's what she be!"

"Cursed!" His friend struggled to regain his footing. "What are you saying?"

"The blood on her hands!!" He yelled as the wind grew louder.

"It's *Xena* for the gods' sakes, she's had plenty of blood on 'er hands before! Why a curse, why now?!"

They reached the deck, and saw that a thick layer of fog blanketed everything. He yelled against the wind, "Not just *blood* this time! And not just *any* not just blood neither! She's let someone die who shouldn't've!" The wind grew still louder. "And she's killed a god!"

"Ya mean--"

"I mean, she killed a god, killed her for *laughin'*! We've all heard the story, the whole known world knows it! And her friend, her own bard--!" The wind shrieked and they fought to remain standing. "She *let* that poor thing take *her* place! Might as well've killed her herself!"

"What are you saying?!"

"I'm *saying* she's *cursed*! For the death of a god, and for the death of her bard, for the death of Gabrielle!"

Others were struggling to lower the sail in the face of the winds, the waves churning around them, thrashing ever harder against the ship. He placed the knife between his teeth to leave his hands free, and moved now to help them. That was when he heard something, or thought he heard something, something splash into the water. He ran to the side of the ship, leaned over the rail, and looked, seeing nothing in the dense fog. He turned back to warn his mates--and ran right into her.

In the dense, thick fog, she had moved unseen toward them, toward their plotting and their yelling. Something in her knew she should be mindful of these treacherous men, some part of her that wouldn't forget who or what she was, a warrior, with a warrior's instinct to survive. But sometimes instinct isn't enough, the will to survive can drown in the soul's longing for reunion. And Xena's very soul was sinking under the strong currents of imagined guilt and very real grief.

She stood where she was, stunned by the blow his words had dealt her, not noticing the physical blow of his body slamming into hers. He could barely see her as he recovered from the surprise of colliding with her in the fog, fumbling for his knife in the slippery fog. He couldn't see the look in her eyes as he plunged the knife with both hands into her unmoving body, under the armour, through the leather, and then took off running as fast as his legs would carry him, away from her.

"Xena!" A voice called beside her. She didn't move, didn't show any sign that she had heard. "Xena!" The voice called again. This time a hand touched her on the arm, *very* lightly and *very* carefully. Such a move would have been dangerous, indeed, onboard this ship, earlier, in this voyage. Now the warrior simply turned to stare through him, past him...and fell.

He caught her, or tried to, but she was much larger than he, and her unexpected weight sent them both to the deck. He was a little man, with large sad eyes, and something about her had moved him so much from the moment he saw her that he knew he had to go to her, to warn her. To help her. And now she lay in his arms, and he didn't know if she was dead or alive.

* * * * *

"Get over here and help me, Toby! Where is that boy?!" The captain had roused himself from his cabin, from his own rummy fog.

"I heard somethin' hit the water just a moment ago, and--" The man was breathless and shaking as he spoke.

"What? Speak up, man, have you seen Toby?! And what hit the water?!"

"I dunno about your little friend... and I don't *know* what hit the water, I just...heard something...and...I've killed her...I killed...the warrior." Fear consumed him and he stared at his hands as if he didn't know them.

"Killed who? Killed the--"

* * * * *

"Warrior," Her little would-be rescuer whispered in her ear, hoping against hope that she could hear him, so afraid that she couldn't. "Please, I've got to get you offa this ship, in a hurry, please, help me." She didn't move, hadn't since she had fallen. She lay in his arms, still and pale, in an expanding pool of her own blood, the blade still buried in her flesh. He had thrown a barrel overboard, to distract his crewmates away from the side of the ship where he had raised the little boat, the boat he had planned for so long to escape in, the boat that they would row away in.

Instead here she was, dying or dead, and he struggled to drag her to the side, struggled to lift her over the side, to get her into the boat, laid her as gently as he could in the little boat, and covered her with the blanket he had stowed there. He struggled to lower them into the churning seas below, to get the oars into the water, and to row them away from the ship and the angry fearful crew as fast as he could, prayed that they would get away before they were missed. Prayed that the rough seas would not devour them. Prayed that she was alive, and would live.

6/9/98 bamaxena