On this sunny day, the glassy surface of the Ionian Sea was marred by a tiny scratch, caused by a flyspeck of a boat with its attendant wake.
          This flyspeck of a boat, headed for a flyspeck of an island just south of a slightly larger island called Antipaxos, was crewed – one cannot say ‘manned’ – by two distinctly different individuals.  One did most of the work.  She was a warrior, though she had set aside weapons and heavy bronze breastplate to take up short oars on either side.  The warrior had also rigged a small sail, but it wasn’t much help.  Her companion, who wasn’t much help either, was a young woman, almost a girl, who huddled miserably in the back of the boat and occasionally adjusted the makeshift tiller at the warrior’s command.
          “I can’t believe you lived so close to the sea but your father never took you for a ride in a boat,” the warrior woman remarked.
          “Hey.  We were farmers, okay?” the other replied.  “We visited the docks,” she offered.
          “Gabrielle, if you’re going to travel with me, you have to learn how to use more than just your two feet.”
          “What’s wrong with feet?” Gabrielle asked.  “And wagons are fine.  Carts…litters…sedan chairs…”
          “Chariots?” smirked her companion.
          “Don’t get funny with me.  Any minute now this thing’s going to start heaving, and then I’ll start heaving.”
          The warrior woman smiled at her companion, eyes half-lidded.  As calm as the water was, Gabrielle was in no danger of feeling sick.  After a short while, the girl’s natural curiosity took over and Gabrielle peered around her.  There wasn’t much to see; the tiny islands in the distance were still hard to distinguish against the background of blue sea and blue sky, and the rocky coast they had just departed seemed equally unremarkable.
          Suddenly, off to one side, a large grey shape broke from the water and splashed back down, followed by another.
          “Xena!” the young woman cried.  “What was that?”
          “Those are dolphins,” Xena told her in a quiet voice.  “They’re just playing.”
          Indeed, several dolphins now gamboled about the surface, chittering as their voices rose into the supersonic range.  They didn’t come close enough to bump the boat, and Gabrielle’s fear gave way to fascination.
          “I’ve heard about them!  Aren’t they supposed to be friends to sailors?”
          “So they say.  This bunch is wary.  Maybe they think we’re fishermen.”
          “Why would they – oh.”  Gabrielle remembered that dolphin meat was often available for sale in the market at Poteidaia, the home she had so recently left, and that dolphin oil was used in lamps and sometimes for cooking.
          Xena decided to take a break and shipped her oars.  After a time the dolphins approached to where Gabrielle could stretch out a tentative hand and attempt to touch them.  They seemed to dance just out of reach of her fingertips before she could make contact.
          “Careful,” the Warrior Princess advised.  “I don’t want you falling overboard.”  Her eyes shone to see her young companion enjoying herself, however.
          “Relax,” Gabrielle laughed, full of confidence.  “The stories say dolphins hold people up so they don’t drown.  Anyway, I know how to swim.”
          “So do sharks,” Xena replied, making Gabrielle jump before the younger woman realized that Xena was kidding.  The Warrior Princess knew perfectly well that the dolphins had already driven off any sharks that might have been in the vicinity.
          One particularly bold dolphin continued to tease Gabrielle, coming tantalizingly near and ducking under the surface to avoid her hand.  This happened several times, and then the dolphin exhaled, catching Gabrielle with the messy spray from its blowhole.  Standing off a short distance away, it bobbed its head up and down, making a series of chuckling sounds.
          “Oh yeah?  Come over here and say that!” Gabrielle complained, wiping her face off.
          The dolphin did, but this time it also allowed Gabrielle to touch it.  The skin was not as smooth as she expected it to be, but its tough, rubbery texture was not unpleasant, either.  Apparently the dolphin was just as surprised by the young woman’s gentle fingers; at any rate, it chuckled again.
          “I think it likes you,” said Xena.
          “I like it.  Oh!”
          The dolphin had abruptly moved off, joining its fellows as they swam away, perhaps to follow a school of fish.  It turned around once, made another incomprehensible sound, and spouted again – this time at a safe distance – then turned again as Gabrielle waved goodbye.  It leaped out of the water and came down in one smooth motion, producing a prodigious splash.
          Xena resumed her rowing, but Gabrielle watched the dolphins until they were all out of sight.

          “Tell me again what we’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere,” Gabrielle insisted.  The island was much closer now, and Xena had been directing her friend to steer toward the south end.  They heard a thin sound like a gull’s cry, but Gabrielle could not see the bird that made it.
          “Righting a wrong I committed about ten years ago,” Xena said, not for the first time.
          “Maybe you could tell me about this wrong?” her friend suggested.
          The warrior woman capitulated.  “It happened when I still thought I was protecting Amphipolis from marauders, not realizing that I had become a marauder myself.  People called me a pirate.  They were right.  One day, my men and I raided a village up the coast, and of the men took a poisoned arrow in the foot.  I was able to stop the poison from spreading, but his foot wouldn’t heal.  The pain kept him moaning and screaming most of the time, until he was so exhausted that he fell asleep.  The others wanted to kill him and end his misery, and ours, but he was a neighbor of mine from home.  So I put him ashore on an island instead – this island.”
          “But there are inhabited islands farther north,” Gabrielle said.
          “Islands I’d raided.  Maybe it would have been merciful to kill him.  I left him as much supplies as I dared; fishhooks, a bow and arrows, a sword for defense…he cursed me and said he’d see me in Tartarus.  I knocked him out so he wouldn’t shoot me in the back.”
          “What was his name?”
          “Pylades.  I haven’t thought about him for years.  When the only thing you care about is killing, what’s one more death?  But I used to hope that somehow his foot would heal and he could swim from island to island.  He didn’t, though.”
          “How do you know?”
          “Because of what the local fishermen told us.  They avoid this island.  They think there’s a ghost there.”
          “You mean this is the ‘haunted rock’ they were talking about?”
          Another cry, this time obviously not that of a bird, came from the island ahead, confirming Gabrielle’s suspicion.
          “Right.  Pylades is still alive, and his foot still hurts him.  I doubt he ever was able to keep a fire burning long enough to attract notice, and there weren’t any trees…”  Her voice trailed off.
          “And that’s what all the medicine in my bag is for,” Gabrielle realized.  “But he’ll try to kill you!”
          “He’ll try,” Xena agreed.  “That’s why you have to talk to him.”
          “Me?”
          “You’re the most harmless person I know.”  When Gabrielle bristled, Xena continued: “That was not an insult, Gabrielle.  You’re the kind of person who doesn’t want to hurt people, even to get your way, and it shows.  Pylades needs that right now.  If he saw me first, he’d never believe I want to rescue him.”
          Gabrielle was unconvinced.  “But what if he’s gone completely mad?  He’s been alone for ten years…without a woman…”
          “I’ll watch out for you.  Tell him what he needs to hear, but don’t stray too far from the truth.  You’re a very persuasive girl.”
          That had the desired effect.  Gabrielle brightened again.  “Yeah?” she replied saucily, cocking her head to the side.
          “You persuaded me to let you be my friend, didn’t you?”
          The friend in question found herself unable to respond.
          “Thanks,” Xena added.

          Xena hoped that their approach had not been seen.  Her memory of the island was sketchy, but she remembered that the cave she had allotted to Pylades had been well above the tide line and yet accessible to the water.  Gabrielle would have to pick her way among scattered rocks and boulders to get to the other side, but time was not a critical factor, and she needed to be cautious anyway.  The Warrior Princess would climb the cliff face above her and parallel Gabrielle’s movements.
          The only real danger would be if Pylades attacked without warning.  All Xena could do was hope that she could spot him first.  Luckily, his intermittent hoarse moaning would give away his location.
          They landed, and Xena put a finger to her lips to quiet Gabrielle.  As silently as possible, they unloaded the few items they needed and secured the boat to a suitable projecting rock.  Then the Warrior Princess nodded to her friend and began to climb the cliff.  Gabrielle watched her for a few seconds before wending her way along the shoreline.
          “I really need to shorten this skirt,” Gabrielle muttered to herself.  The brown ankle-length skirt was fine for protecting her modesty but a hindrance in rough terrain, especially since she needed both hands to steady herself where the footing was poor and so could not hike up the hem.  “And get sturdier boots,” she added to her mental catalog.  After a while she found her blue jacket to be uncomfortable.  She wished that she had left it in the boat, but it was too late now.  There was no convenient place for her to stop and remove it, and besides it would be one more thing to carry.  Her shoulder bag, full of food, medicine and spare clothing for Pylades, was barely manageable as it was.
          From time to time Gabrielle heard Pylades cry out in pain.  She wondered how Xena could have left him to such a cruel fate.  The young woman had to admit that she knew very little about what sort of woman Xena was.  She was well aware of Xena’s foul reputation as a bloody warlord, though even then the Warrior Princess had maintained honorable rules about women, children and others who did not fight her.  The Xena that Gabrielle had seen so far was full of guilt and remorse – and potential for doing good, a potential that Xena had begun to realize.  If Xena was often reticent and frequently curt with her, well, she was a leader and not one to suffer fools.  I guess I can be foolish sometimes, Gabrielle conceded.  But as long as Xena is willing to teach me, I’m willing to learn from her.
          Gabrielle was certain about one thing, though.  Xena was her friend.
          And she was a friend who never ceased to amaze.  Armed and armored as she was, Xena was making better progress along the rock face than Gabrielle was along the shore, and she was quieter about it.  Still, Gabrielle’s body was toughening in ways far different from the farm and domestic work it was accustomed to performing.  The young woman had lost what her fiancé Perdicas used to joke about as “baby fat,” though Gabrielle did not appreciate the joke…
          “By the gods!” a male voice shouted as she rounded the point that marked the end of a tiny beach.  “Are you a real woman or another dream sent to torture me?”
          “No, I’m real,” she chuckled, remembering a recent encounter with the priests of Morpheus.  “My name’s Gabrielle.”
          A short distance away and slightly higher up was the cave Xena had told her about.  Pylades stood at the entrance, and his visage would have been frightening had Xena not warned Gabrielle what to expect.  His long, ill-groomed black hair and beard seemed to stick out in all directions; it was clear that he hacked off excessive lengths with a knife.  He was clad in rags that had been patched so many times that little tatters flapped all over when he moved.  His right foot was swathed in more rags, stained dark with the discharge from his wound.  His skin was bronzed and leathery from long exposure to sun, sea and wind.  He was thin, painfully thin due to his hard-earned diet of fish and seaweed, which Gabrielle guessed had to be eaten raw.  He held a rust-spotted sword in his hand, which he now lowered.
          “Never heard of a dream that had a name before.  I’m called Pylades.  Or I was when there was anyone around.  How did you get here, girl?  You’re too dry to have swum here or been wrecked, and you don’t look like any god.”
          “I came over in a rowboat,” Gabrielle replied.
          “A little thing like you?  And why didn’t you row to this side?  It’s the only spot worth landing at.  I should know.  After ten years I know every inch of this gods-forsaken rock.  Something stinks here, and it isn’t my foot.”
          “You’re right,” she agreed, changing her approach.  “I heard a story about how you were marooned.  I thought if it was true then maybe I could help you.  So here I am.”  It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough.  Gabrielle spread her arms to show that she carried no weapons.
          “Come on up,” Pylades invited.  “Are you a healer?”
          “No, but I have medicines in my bag.”  It was a short, gentle slope to the cave, but Gabrielle was on tenterhooks as she slowly walked toward Pylades, stopping a few feet away and placing the bag in front of him as far as she could reach and still maintain her distance.
          “Don’t be afraid,” the man said.  “I swore off women the day that damned witch Xena left me here.”  He grimaced, and gritted his teeth from the pain.  “I’ll kill that one if I ever see her again – aaAAGGHH!”
          Her fear forgotten, Gabrielle rushed to help him.  “Oh, your foot.”
          Pylades ground his teeth again.  “I wanted to cut it off a thousand times, but I have to walk on it to get by, no matter how much it hurts.  And if I ever made it back I’d be crippled and begging for scraps.”
          “Let me look at it,” Gabrielle said.  Pylades complied, sitting down so she could unwrap the rags.  The young woman paled and then turned a shade of light green to match her blouse when she saw the stinking, bloody mess like an open sore, but she managed to keep her gorge from rising.
          “You’re no healer, that’s for sure,” observed Pylades.
          She did not reply, but took a sponge and a wineskin from the bag.  Soaking the sponge with wine, she began to apply it to the wound as Xena had taught her.
          “AIEEE!”  That hurts like Xena’s own kiss, damn her!  Are you sure you know what you’re doing, girl?”
          “It’s what I was told –”
          Pylades’s eyes narrowed, and Gabrielle switched tracks again.
          “– by a healer I asked about this.  Do you have any fresh water?”
          “Yes, there’s a trickle of a spring in the cave.”
          “I need to make a compress.”  She reached into the bag and brought out a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.  “Meanwhile, here’s some food.”
          “My gods, real food?”  He practically fondled each item as Gabrielle handed it to him, not daring to believe his luck.  “Bread…cheese…olives…honeycomb…”  Pylades began to shed tears of joy.  “And you said you had a rowboat…”
          “Yes.  We’re getting you off this island.”  Oops.  I should have said, “I’m getting you off this island.”  I hope he didn’t notice.  Gabrielle entered the cave to soak a cloth and certain herbs Xena had picked out.
          There wasn’t much in the cave, mainly fish bones.  Several pieces of cloth covered a bed of seaweed and grass.  A crude calendar was scratched into a large rock near the entrance, an arrowhead beside it.  Two small pieces of driftwood lay near a circle of burned rocks.  A partially unraveled piece of cloth had a few fishbone needles stuck in it.  Pylades owned a few pottery jars and a metal cup.  That was it.

          Xena remained hidden, relaxing only a trifle when she saw that Pylades was not going to follow Gabrielle into the cave.  He appeared to be intent on the food, but he did not touch the wine.  His wariness kept Xena wary; she had heard Gabrielle’s gaffe.  Still, Pylades had reason to be wary.  How many times did he dream about food, or rescue, or companionship, or all three?  How many times did he take his revenge on me in his sleep?  Did he ever dream that he was free from pain?
          Pylades kept his sword near him, though he used an ordinary knife to cut up his food.  No bow was in evidence, and it appeared that the bowstrings served as fishing line, which removed another potential problem.  The Warrior Princess did not earn her reputation by underestimating possible danger, however.  She had done that once, and the mistake had been fatal.  In one sense, Pylades was lucky: had Xena not marooned him, he would either have been killed in battle, or crucified alongside Xena after her ship was taken.  Only a miracle had saved her.  Someday Xena would tell Gabrielle the story.
          Gabrielle emerged from the cave, her compress ready.  “I hope this helps,” she said.  “I’ve patched up a few cuts and scrapes, but nothing like yours.”
          “Not many people get wounds like mine,” Pylades replied.  He groaned again in pain.  “You’re not the sort who goes around rescuing strangers, girl.  You’re no Amazon, and no Spartan, either.  Where are you from?”
          “Poteidaia,” Gabrielle answered.
          “That’s t’other side of Greece.  We put in there once or twice when we were making the islanders pledge not to harm Amphipolis, may the place burn down.”
          “It’s still there,” she reported, “but the last time Xena showed up they tried to stone her, and she left.”  Again, it was the truth, but not the whole truth.
          “Serves her right.  Too bad they didn’t kill her.  Sounds like you saw it, though I’m surprised she didn’t turn on ’em.  What the deuce are you doing traveling around unarmed and all when scum like Xena and worse are out there?”
          Gabrielle was hard pressed not to defend Xena.  If she revealed her friendship, Pylades was liable to try to kill her out of hand.  “I like to tell stories,” she said, covering smoothly.  “I know about all the old heroes, and the Labors of Hercules, but I thought if I saw some of the places, and met people, and learned what it’s like to wander under the trees and climb the hills and sleep under the stars, I could tell better stories.”  As Gabrielle went on, she warmed to the subject.  “And someone like Xena – why would she turn to evil?”
          “Either you’re stupid or you’re crazy, girl,” Pylades told Gabrielle, “and you don’t look stupid to me.  Or maybe you’re too innocent to know what you’re doing.  At least you’re lucky.  A cute girl like you makes a tasty morsel for the slave trade.”
          “I almost was,” she admitted.  “But, like you said, I’m lucky.”  Gabrielle laughed, perhaps a trifle nervously.  She could have slipped again and mentioned that Xena had rescued her.  “So, tell me about that evil warlord Xena.  Why did she just leave you here?”
          “Not much to say.  I marched with Xena against Cortese and saw her brother die.  He was the best of ’em, him and the others who died that day.  She was a strange one even then.  A regular tomboy, but she was pretty enough for some of the fellows, even if everyone in town knew she was a lousy cook.  She had this crazy idea that no one was gonna attack our village again.  Places as wouldn’t agree and give her supplies, she raided.  One by one my friends went down, but there was plenty of thugs to take their places.  Somewhere along the way Xena started acting like ’em.  One or two boys decided to go home, and she said ‘good riddance’ to ’em.  When I saw that I told Xena that after this I wanted out, too.  Well, I got out, all right.  Damned poison arrow in the foot, and the pain won’t go away.  I screamed and I screamed, and those thugs wanted to kill me.”  He spat on the ground.
          “That night I fell asleep on board our ship and the next morning I woke up here.  Just enough stuff to survive.  Barely, at that.  I cursed Xena, and I fought her, but it was no good.”  He cried out sharply as the pain surged in his foot.  “Sorry.  I got used to the pain, but sometimes it’s still too much.  Feels different, though.  Whatever you put in there is doing some good.  Thanks.”
          “You’re welcome,” Gabrielle replied.
          “Nobody to talk to for ten years.  I’m surprised I still remember how.  I almost died the first winter.  No wood for a fire.  Then this dead dolphin washes up on the beach.  I didn’t touch the meat, but there enough oil for a little heat and light in the worst moments.  Call me crazy, but I decided to give that dolphin a funeral.  I made a little charm out of grass, and I put it in the dolphin’s mouth with a fish and a coin for old Charon, weighed the body down with rocks and pushed it into the sea – that sure wasn’t easy – and prayed to Poseidon.
          “After that, I had the dolphins for company.  I didn’t understand anything they said, and they never understood me, but at least they were friendly.  I swear they drove fish my way, so I never went hungry.  Some of the fish have oil in ’em, too.  The dolphins keep me going, that and the chance I might pay Xena back for what she did.”
          “I saw the dolphins,” said Gabrielle.  “They’re wonderful!  Maybe you can say goodbye on our way back to the coast.  I’ll get my boat –”
          Pylades had picked up his sword and pointed it at the young woman’s throat.
          “You’ll stay here and tell me who you’re working for.  Tell me the truth and I won’t hurt you.”

COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
          Xena: Warrior Princess, Xena, Gabrielle and all other characters who have appeared in the series, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures.  No infringement of copyrights or trademarks is intended in the writing of this fan fiction.  This story is © 2003 by Philip D. Hernández and is his sole property along with the story idea.  The character of Pylades is his own creation.  This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way.  Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.