Xena was half-way across the tavern floor when Hercules was creeping down the stairs. The dark woman wove her way through the sitting the crowd, joining the tall man in the center of the room. She tried to keep her emotions in check as she studied the man’s face. His face was inscrutable -- not a good sign as far as she was concerned.

“How is she?”

Hercules shook his head, “She’s asleep, or that’s how I left her in the room. I don’t think she’s going to be in any mood to talk for a while. Just let--”

“I can’t just abandon her like this!” Xena started to move around the large man. Hercules grabbed her arm as hard as he could without breaking bone.

“Xena, this is one problem that you can’t tackle with a blade and a well placed kick. She needs some space. Take it from me, time is the only thing that is going to heal this.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it with a long suffering sigh. The warrior wasn’t used to being this powerless, or having a problem that couldn’t be fixed with either physical strength or cunning. Taking a chair, she sat down, laying her sheathed sword on the oak table, “Well, if I’m going to wait, I’d might as well be comfortable about it. Oh, Iolaus is looking for you to help put up the defenses.”

Hercules nodded and strode into the afternoon sun, heedless of the stares that accompanied him wherever he went. Xena gave him a few minutes to return to give her a word or two of encouragement. Once she was satisfied that the hero wasn’t going to return soon, she bolted for the stairs. He can sit there and say all the things he wants, but he doesn’t know Gabrielle like I do. I need to act now, she reasoned to herself as she hopped up two steps at a time. Their room was at the end of the short hall, overlooking the mouth of the valley -- a good place for a general to command the defense forces. Right now, she was getting ready for a different battle. It was going to be a battle of wills, and by every god she knew, she was going to come out the victor.

Gabrielle never stirred when the hinges squeaked. She was flat on her stomach, arms curled under her face. Apparently she was crying when sleep finally dragged her away. Xena crept close, feeling a tiny bit guilty about sneaking around like Autolycus trying to get out of a bordello fee. She leaned down to look at her face. Gabrielle’s worries were smoothed away by Morpheus’ gentle hand. She looked peaceful, sleeping the untroubled sleep of small children. Xena perched on a stool that was next to the bed. She had often watched her sleep when the night of her soul seemed to be too dark and deep. Gabrielle always seemed to be at peace when she closed her eyes -- in spite of the horrors visited upon her by fate.

Xena leaned forward to tuck away an errant strand. She saw that the pillow had a dark spot under her eye. Another twinge of guilt twisted in Xena’s mind. Gabrielle had cried herself to sleep. You’re the cause of this you know. The village is in good hands, so why not take off for Corinth? Oh, wait... that’s right! You’re not done bathing in your ever-so-damning guilt! the voice was mockingly like Ares. She grimaced and forced the voice out of her consciousness. Leaning back, her foot brushed against something on the floor.

It was the wineskin Gabrielle was carrying when all if this happened. It had emptied it’s contents on the floor in a dark purple stain. Xena picked it up, turning it over in her hands. It was an unremarkable wine skin, something that could have been bought in the market square. Except that it was getting heavier as she held it. Xena shook it once. She heard the slosh of liquid and the puff of grape fragrance. This thing is filling up on it’s own! She took the skin, wedged the cork in the opening and looked around for a place to hide it. She tucked it in her saddlebag, then covered it with her blanket. A plan to visit the market place to discover who sold her the skin was stirring quickly in her mind, as was how she was going to approach this merchant and dissuade him into never selling these sort of things ever again.

She made her way to the window, pausing to examine the young bard. The only indication that she was alive was the soft, steady sigh of her breath. She had never moved once in her deep sleep. Xena frowned slightly. She knew from personal experience that when Gabrielle would finally wake up, she was going to wish that she was dead. Xena would have to make plans to be by Gabrielle’s side when the morning finally came. She never had anything stronger than the single glass of wine, and that was enough to make her sleep soundly through the night. What she would be like after this odd debauch was anyone’s guess.

Looking out the window, she saw two men on horse back galloping for the newly erected village barricade. Xena sucked in the breath to shout to Hercules below, but she didn’t want to wake Gabrielle too soon. Then again, she thought, I could have a full battle between me, Callisto and Caesar and she probably wouldn’t stir an eye. Deciding that politeness was more important than speed, Xena turned away from the window and hopped down the stairs. Once out of the tavern and presumably out of earshot, she bellowed Hercules’ name as loud as she could. Hercules turned to the direction of the shout. Xena pointed to the barricade and held up two fingers.

“RIDERS! TWO RIDERS COMING!” She started to race for the gate as Hercules gathered up a handful of armed men to meet the visitors. Xena knew this was bad. Admetus never sent anyone ahead. This departure from his standard procedure was a bad sign. Admetus had become a wild card. Now, on top of everything else that was going on, she was going to have to improvise a battle. While is wasn’t something new to her, she would rather have everything follow along in it’s own path. Xena got to the gate as the two riders pulled their horses short. The armed villagers braced their spears against the ground in a sharp metal wall. Hercules stood in the rear as Xena walked around the phalanx. One of the riders held Admetus’s crest, an iron fist sheathed in golden flames in a field of green, on a pole. The other soldier held up a white cloth, smirking at the display in front of you.

“Is this how you greet all your messengers?” He said, slipping the cloth swatch in his sword belt.

“Say what you’ve got to say and leave this valley. There’s no easy picking for your master here.” Xena never let her gaze waver.

“Well, Xena’s commanding the,” he let his voice roll out dryly, “defense forces. What a big step down for you, O Mighty Amphipolian.”

“Get on with it.” Xena rebuked herself for that statement as soon as it was out of her mouth. She was letting her temper get ahead of her.

“Very well,” the messenger raised his voice, “Let all these people know that my commander doesn’t want to take needless lives. Surrender what we claim as our own by harvest moon and we will promise that the damage will be minimal. Refuse, or resist, and this village and every living thing in it will be trampled under our mighty heel. This is your only warning.”

Xena smiled, “Tell Admetus that if hasn’t forgotten the lessons of Thalami, I would be more than happy to give him a refresher course.”

The messenger contemplated this response, then turned his horse around, “We will see. REMEMBER! HARVEST MOON!” The pair cantered away, knowing that their actions were being watched with interest. Hercules dismissed the guard with his thanks and stood by Xena’s side. He looked down at the woman and recognized the pensive look. Sometimes, he had that look as well when he thought about Dierdane.

“What happened at Thalami?”

“It was where we first met and crossed swords. He took a third of my armies, but not before I slaughtered his forces down him and his lieutenant. As a show of fealty, I had Admetus execute him in front of my troops,” Xena said quietly, “I was a different person then. A person I don’t think I can turn into again without something being sacrificed.”

Hercules rubbed his chin as he scanned the horizon, “You won’t have to worry about that. There are people here who won’t let you get that far. I promise.”

Xena turned to look up at the window where Gabrielle was oblivious to the world around her. “I wish I could share your optimism.” Her voice cracked into a whisper that the autumn wind whisked away.