Morning found Fox Mulder attempting to follow through on his intentions
of the night before. He stifled the urge to concentrate solely on Gabrielle
and valiantly attempted to cut back on the amount of time he spent ranging
off and ahead. Granted, walking with the two women was a bit more comfortable
than the awkward breakfast they had shared. It was easier for him to comment
on their path than the bland food the inn had provided.
Dana kept shooting him shy sideways glances that dropped to the hard-packed
dirt whenever he attempted to meet her eyes. They were stumbling over the
walls that had grown up between them over the last two days. Mulder couldn't
shake the feeling that every sentence he spoke aloud should be prefaced
with an apology.
By contrast, Dana and Gabrielle seemed as relaxed with each other as
friends from childhood. The blonde got the Irish woman giggling with some
improbable tale of a woman, her dim male companion and an enchanted scroll.
Both Gabrielle's fluid storytelling and Dana's breathless laughter cut
Fox to the bone. He suffered under the intoxicating torment for as long
as he could then, with an excuse about their safety being at risk, Mulder
left the road and their company.
Gabrielle's story faded out without a proper ending not long after Fox
left them. She realised that she had lost her friend's attention.
Blue eyes watched the distant smear of buckskin that was William Mulder
until the scenery swallowed him up. "He's different today." Dana finally
commented. "A bit edgy, but definitely nicer."
"Last night..." Gabrielle observed. "It knocked him for a loop. He's trying
to find his balance again." She smiled at the pleasant change in both her
companions today. "I can see the two of you getting together. There's a
tangle of energy between you, karma... a connection."
"I'd like to believe that." Dana let out a gusty sigh. "What was it
like for you?" Gabrielle spoke of love and soulmates like a woman with
experience. Perhaps by comparing their two relationships Dana could decide
how serious her attraction was to Fox.
The Bard's breath escaped with a laugh. She looked up at the clouds
skittering across the sky. "I can see so many parallels between us all.
Between Fox and Xena, between you and I, even between Xena then and myself
now." Gabrielle began. "If you're asking me if it was love at first sight,
well, it probably was, but I wasn't mature enough to recognise it as that."
The memory of that time curved her soft lips into a smile. "Xena was in
the middle of a personal crisis of sorts. Her entire concept of her place
in the world had been tipped on it's side."
Dana nodded in understanding. "I think I can sympathise."
Gabrielle's gaze drifted along the horizon. "On my side of things... well.
My first reaction was a weird mixture of wanting to get away from where
I was and recognition of a spark between us. I suppose I could have gone
off alone, but what I really wanted was to travel beside this amazing woman.
Oh Dana, it's probably hard for you to imagine, but meeting her was a revelation.
It opened my eyes to possibilities that had been hidden from me my whole
life. That a woman could be so strong and self-sufficient... that I could
find myself physically reacting to her the way I did." She chuckled. "Needless
to say, Xena told me flat out to stay home. She thought her path was little
too dark to share with such as me."
One ginger brow lifted. "Somehow I can't see you taking that very well."
Dana observed.
"Oh, I was much sweeter in my youth." Gabrielle said sarcastically.
"Of course, I followed her anyway."
"Sounds familiar."
"Doesn't it just." The bard grinned. "What she felt for me... Gods. I got
tolerance and then a sort of grudging respect for my persistence. She's
always been a tough nut to crack. I found out later that Xena was being
rocked by some fairly potent emotions concerning me... but she hid her struggle
so well." Golden hair shook. "I... the better I got to know the real Xena... I
went from infatuation to honest admiration pretty quickly." Gabrielle admitted.
"And love came fast on it's heels." The blonde paused briefly. "The thing
is... Xena has a dark core that has always frightened me... but her constant
state of conflict with it is riveting. What's more, no one else seemed
to notice it about her. Eventually I realised that I was the only one close
enough to Xena to interpret the subtle play of expressions across her face... the
only one she would allow to get that close. You can't imagine how heady
a sensation it is, to be the only person that holds the trust of someone
like Xena." Gabrielle pursed her lips. "The bard in me doesn't want to
admit it, but mere words aren't sufficient sometimes. To say that I love
her isn't enough. That simple phrase isn't nearly adequate to convey the
depth of the binding that holds us together."
A reverent hush lingered between them for several breaths before Dana's
question filled the gap. "When exactly did you realise it was forever?"
The blonde couldn't help but smirk at the irony of those words. " One
day I looked over at her and... By the Gods. There came a point where the
thought of being apart from her... of living without her at my side... struck
me as intolerable. I didn't care about the darkness in her, or what she'd
done in the past. The future, our future together eclipsed everything."
A dreamy smile played across her pale pink mouth. "A feeling of utter belonging
gripped me. Some part of my soul that I hadn't realised was missing returned
to me."
Dana's expression was envious.
"When we were first separated I though my heart would break from missing
her touch." Gabrielle continued. "I was also terrified at what the division
would do to her. If it would destroy all the growth she'd gone through?
The only thing that stopped me from going crazy was the realisation of
how strong our connection really was... that on the most spiritual level we
were still together. Most of the time Xena has managed to hold on to the
goodness that she worked so hard to achieve."
Dana, sensing some deeper truth hiding behind her friend's words, repeated
a question from the night before. "How long have you been apart?"
Her eyes closed briefly against the pain. "Far too long. I should have
come sooner. If only I'd realised how simple crossing over was... not that
it was easy... but in the grand scheme of things... " The statement trailed off.
"So... you've been in another country?" Dana tried to clarify the odd discourse.
"You could say that." The bard's smile was sly. "Lately I've come from
Greece." She allowed. "Returning to Xena has taken longer than I expected
it would."
The Irish woman grimaced playfully. "I don't know about you Gabrielle.
Sometimes you talk as if you're as old as my Granny, but you can't be much
older than me."
"Appearances deceive, Dana." The blonde countered. "I'm much older than
I look."
"At the absolute outside you're nigh past twenty-six." Dana studied
her companion as they walked. "And my guess would be closer on twenty-three.
By the Sidhe, Gabrielle, but you do confound me in some ways."
"It's my bardic mystic. I work hard to keep my audience on their toes."
She snickered.
A sudden flight of birds taking to the wing in the trees ahead of them
silenced the pair temporarily. Gabrielle's grip on her staff shifted absently
as she studied their surroundings, her fingers playing up and down the
smooth wood.
Dana was distracted, watching as a bead of sweat trickled it's way down
her friend's neck and collarbones until it disappeared into Gabrielle's
cleavage. [Focus. You silly fool.] Dana scolded herself, turning her
eyes outward. "Is it trouble?"
"Fox spooked them." The bard slowly relaxed back into a looser pace
pleased that she had concluded the cause of the disturbance so easily,
that her woodcraft hadn't dulled. She shifted the subject to one that had
been pricking at the back corner of her mind. There was a chance that the
British patrol would find Xena first. Gabrielle couldn't help but wonder
what her lover was up against. "The English soldiers that are looking for
Xena, Major Sharpe and his lot, what do you think of them, Dana?"
Fingers bunched into the dark fabric of her borrowed rifleman's jacket
and tugged it straight. A hint of pink, not caused by the sun, tinted Dana's
cheeks. "I didn't have a chance to spend as much time in the Major's company
as I might of liked." She admitted. "And I was in a rather preoccupied
state... over my coming meeting with William."
"But?" Gabrielle's voice lifted teasingly.
"Well." Dana's shoulders shifted. "Patrick Harper has to be one of the
sweetest men I've come across since setting out on my journey."
"Sharpe's Sergeant, you mean?"
Sunlight glinted off drooping, copper curls as she nodded. "He's been
kind to me from the moment we met, so polite and considerate." Dana elaborated.
"He asked for news of home then later that evening Pat invited me over
to the chosen men's fire so I could hear the music. Patrick has this whistle
pipe." Her fingers flicked in illustration. "And one of the men, Mr Hagman
I think, was singing. I got a glare that would sour milk from Colonel Rickman's
wife for going." A trill of laughter bubbled up. "But it was scads more
fun than sitting about while she whined about her fertility problems."
Gabrielle chuckled softly at the look of distaste on her friend's face.
"Anyway, between the trip to camp and my time with Ramona and the babe
I think I've gotten a fair picture of Patrick Harper. He's as honest as
the day is long and an absolute hawk about protecting those he holds dear."
Dana blushed slightly. "He's grievous handsome too, a right powerful temptation
to amoral thoughts." She admitted. "Strong, broad shoulders and the Devil's
own smile."
"Why Dana!" Gabrielle feigned shock. "Almost married women are not even
supposed to notice other men." She teased.
Small shoulders shrugged. "You'll see." She announced securely. "And
Major Sharpe's naught to sneeze at either, though he's a bit spare in the
face. My Mam would be wanting to feed him up if she ever set eyes on the
Major." Dana wiped a sleeve across her face to sop up some of the sweat.
She had to change the subject. It was bad enough that sexual temptation
walked at her side. Dana didn't need visions of attractive men tormenting
her too. Between the thoughts churning up in her head and the heat outside,
she was starting to simmer uncomfortably. "How long a walk do we have ahead
of us?"
"Not too brutal a hike." Gabrielle assured. "We're aiming for a town
that Xena was seen in just two or three days ago. With luck she's still
in the general area." The Bard turned serious green eyes on her companion.
"We're also headed right into heavily disputed territory so you need to
keep your wits about you Dana. If we run into trouble you stay at my back.
All right?"
"I understand." The redhead swallowed, tasting grit. "I know enough
to let you and Fox work without getting underfoot... but... I can fire a gun,
Gabrielle. I did at home, so if we were to get pinned down I'll use a pistol.
Just so you know." Dana watched as Gabrielle grinned. The pleased expression
lit up the blonde's face like the sun cresting the horizon. Dana's breath
actually hitched in arousal at the view. She wet dry lips and looked away,
fumbling after her canteen. Dana babbled. "I did a lot of things at home
that most ladies of my station... my family has the blood, the property, but
actual money was in short supply." She coughed. "Da let me run a bit wild
I suppose. That's one of the reasons I've been hooked up with Fox and not
someone local." The colour was high in her cheeks. Dana pressed her lips
together tightly to stem the flow of chatter.
"Are you okay, Dana?" The blonde's head cocked to one side.
"I'm warm." She fudged the truth, taking a sip of water. "It's been
a strange week. I thought this trip, coming to Spain... getting married... would
be fairly straightforward but I've never encountered so many... distractions
and sidepaths... before. At times I don't know whether I can't wait to get
home or if I never want this to end."
Gabrielle nodded. "I can relate. Back when Xena and I were travelling
together the mood to settle would occasionally strike one or the other
of us." It was hard to compress all those years into a timeline Dana would
be able to accept. "We did settle, for a while. I thought Xena would be
the one to chafe under the sameness but it turned out that I was the one
who missed the road more intensely." Her tone brightened. "I suppose I
missed my audience. What can I say, I've the heart of a performer. I like
being the centre of attention."
Dana smirked. She couldn't imagine a situation where the beautiful blonde
wasn't the focal point of all onlookers. "Good thing."
Gabrielle shot a look of amusement sideways at her companion. "And what
is that tone of voice supposed to indicate, young lady?" She asked in a
heavily put on accent.
The Irish woman simply laughed. A movement up ahead caught her eye and
one hand lifted to point. "It appears as if Fox has cornered some poor
traveller. You'd best get up there before he manages to offend the man
by asking after the boils on his bottom or some such nonsense." Fox's grasp
of the Spanish language was disturbingly erratic and he tended to mangle
it with every second sentence.
They picked up their pace to reach the pair. By the time Gabrielle arrived
at Mulder's side the Canadian was already shaking his head in confusion
and asking the Spaniard to speak slower.
The Bard jumped into the conversation, asking after any soldiers or
fighting in the area. Considering the pot and utensil laden wagon the man's
donkey was pulling, he most likely went town to town doing repairs and
would have a fair idea of the situation. Fox's forehead creased as he attempted
to follow the rapid stream of questions and answers.
"He said something about fires, that I didn't understand." Fox coached.
"Ask him about that."
Dana, who had trailed slightly behind, eased up beside her fiancee.
Her gaze drifted past the tinker to his heaped cart.
The man stared at the uniform clad young woman and gestured at her,
speaking even more quickly than before. His arms waved, as if shooing them
back the way they came.
Gabrielle spared Dana and Fox a brief glance then concentrated on what
the traveller was saying to her. She smiled, encouraging the man to tell
her more. After a few minutes of talking she thanked the man and indicated
that her companions should continue on down the road. "Gracias." The blonde
thanked him one more time before joining her friends. "The French are causing
a lot of trouble exactly where we've been directed. They might be trying
to precipitate some kind of conflict with Xena. We're going the right way."
"Are there any British soldiers about?" Fox asked.
The Bard nodded. "The priest two villages back told him... " She flicked
a hand backwards to indicate the tinker. "... to pass along warning to anyone
he came across, locals and transients alike, that they'd best keep away
or be extra careful. Several small groups of soldiers are prowling about... at
least one of them were in rifleman green." Like Dana wore, considering
his gestures.
"What was that about the French and fire?" Mulder had caught snatches,
but nothing that had much meaning.
"The French have been looting." Gabrielle shook her head. "And burning
the farms behind them." Her upper lip curled. "A lot of women have been... badly
abused and some men have been murdered for sport. He suggested we go back
where we came from."
Dana shivered slightly, staring down at the road to hide the trepidation
Gabrielle's words sparked in her. Much to her surprise Fox noticed and
his hand brushed almost absently across her shoulder, a soothing gesture.
"I should stay closer to you two from here on in." Mulder reasoned.
"Do you... " He hesitated, reconsidering his words before they escaped. "
Do either of you want my pistol? I'm better with my rifle anyway."
His offer caught both women by surprise. "Give it to Dana." Gabrielle
jumped in quickly.
"Thank you, but, no thank you." Dana declined. "I have one already."
She blushed at their surprised attention. "I took it from the bandit last
night. I thought... He didn't need it any more."
"Sensible." Gabrielle commented with a grin.
"Very... " Mulder seconded in a low murmur. "But, I think I'd feel better
if you took mine and gave me the thief's. We don't know how well he took
care of it."
Dana dug the other out of her pack and offered it up.
Fox moved in a faintly halting manner, but he did take his pistol from
his belt and trade gravely with his fiancee. "It's already loaded. Do you
need instructions, or are you familiar with... this kind of gun?" Restraint
and a certain amount of admiration tinted his voice. He frowned down at
the pistol she had given him. It would need cleaning, and perhaps a little
bit of maintenance.
Dana looked William's weapon over. "I can handle this, no problem. It's
fair close to the one I used at home. Thank you Fox."
He inclined his head. "What sort of shooting did you do at home?"
"Mostly targets with the pistol. I shot rabbits and gophers with my
rifle." The redhead provided. "It kept them out of the gardens and helped
fill the dinner pot. Da taught me to shoot when I was about eight. Once,
my friend Sean Pendrell took me along on a fox hunt with some of the local
nobles." A smile couldn't help but break out on her face. "But that was
a silly bit of business, all those horses and hounds... " She shrugged.
"Fox hunting?" Mulder repeated with chuckle. "On horseback? That's no
way to catch a fox. They take a far more subtle approach. You need to outwit
them, trick them into a trap... at least if you want to salvage a decent pelt
out of the animal." His hazel-blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
Dana grinned right back at him. "I defer to the expert."
Gabrielle distanced herself slightly from the couple so they could talk.
She appeared to watch the surrounding countryside, while keeping a tendril
of attention on the pair. A feeling a smug satisfaction was just beginning
to wrap around her.
SHARPE: "Could you just wave in the general direction of the French,
Sir."
Most of the time Francois Malais enjoyed his job. The best thing about
working for Ducos was that he could do whatever he wanted with little fear
of punishment as long as the spymaster's jobs were completed satisfactorily.
Not even Malais' so-called 'superior' officers had the balls to object
to anything Pierre Ducos put his approval on.
Francois grinned to himself. He could just picture the look on Major
Navarre's pinched face when the little prig found out about this morning's
excursion. Bringing along two of Navarre's uptight band had added sauce
to the defiance. Still, those two had whined about Malais' amusements so
they were best off dispatched back to camp as a rub in the nose to the
Major.
The Sergeant scratched absently at an itch behind his ear. The first
farm they had raided had been mildly entertaining but something was missing.
Feeling the life draining away from his victims beneath his fingers had
fired up his passions and the withered old woman wasn't proper meat for
a man of his appetites. In fact very few of the pickings around here had
been worth the time it took to drop his trousers. Wasn't that always the
way? He could either indulge in his lust for destruction out here on the
lines or enjoy plump soft bodies back in the city where killing the sluts
afterwards was discouraged.
The marching was tedious too. As if some Spanish tart with delusions
of grandeur was worth all this fuss and bother. If Navarre were any kind
of man he would have chased the whore down and taught the tramp her place
by now. Still, what could you expect from a sissy-boy. Yeah, Francois knew
about the Major's taste for men. Just let that pasty faced excuse for an
officer try something around me, the Sergeant thought gleefully, and I'll
smash his head in. With enough provocation, witnesses and Ducos' backing
Francois was sure he could get away with the offence. Maybe he should have
his field mouse come on to the Major then start screaming in the middle
of it. Christ, that'd be worth a chuckle.
Pity they couldn't spare the time. The little punk was already taking
too long on this assignment. Ducos wanted intelligence on the Brits and
Francois' only obligation these days was to keep the spymaster happy. If
Krycek didn't bring back something spectacular enough to make all this
aggravation worth it then Malais intended to take his revenge on the boy's
hide.
The French Sergeant cursed to himself, startling the two men walking
on either side.
{Qu' est-ce qu'il y a?} Arsene questioned cautiously after the source
of his commander's sudden annoyance. An unhappy Malais was a frightening
thing.
"I'm thinking! Mind the road." Francois growled. His dirt-rat was getting
more uppity every year. Malais needed to come up with another service he
could provide for Ducos so the next time he felt like crushing the little
bastard's head... he could.
In a dark corner of the Sergeant's mind an unacknowledged anxiety was
hiding... influencing his behaviour. Krycek was no longer the sheltered scholar
Francois had unearthed six years ago but rather a trained killer in the
prime of life. Sooner or later the Russian was going to realise it. Each
time they crossed paths lately Malais felt the need to reduce the spy to
a screaming ruin to keep that revelation from either of them.
"I need to kill something." Francois snarled aloud. Preferably a young
girl who grovelled and quaked as he ground the life out of her wide eyes.
The boy at the last farm had died too quickly. The old woman hadn't seemed
to suffer enough. "Someone with a healthy voice."
Guillaume handled his musket restlessly. He and Arsene exchanged a loaded
look. There had better be at least one pretty woman and hopefully some
children at the next farm or Malais was going to drag them to a third.
They'd only been hanging about with the Sergeant for a few months now but
they knew what that particular expression meant.
[I could break a finger or two.] Francois pondered his problem further.
That tactic had rattled Krycek in the past and it hadn't roused Ducos'
ire. Malais couldn't help but wonder if cutting one off would be allowed.
The littlest fingers weren't required to work a lockpick. He made a mental
note to try out the idea on one of the people at the next farm so he could
test out methods of closing the wound afterwards. Francois also wanted
to see if his belt-knife could do the job neatly enough so he had best
use a woman as a sample. The dirt-rat's hands weren't very big.
"I hear something." Arsene announced softly, pointing into the scrub
that lined the road.
"Probably rabbits." Francois grouched. "What are you afraid of? Some
sword wielding slut who thinks she's a Princess? Bring her on I say." He
boasted. "The last bitch who tried to fight me off is rotting in a ditch
and I'll serve this one up some of the same. Maybe if she's not a complete
pig-face I'll do her the favour of a fuck before I haul her in by the hair."
Malais grinned. That was just the thing. Taking out this 'Princesa' would
certainly buy him some gratitude from Ducos. Perhaps it would be enough
to rate taking Francois' pet out of action for a month or two. With that
much time to heal Malais could smash the smirk off that whore's face so
hard that he wouldn't dare to so much as look his handler in the eye for
the next year.
"How much further?" The Sergeant asked, satisfaction bubbling up inside
him once more. "I'm in the mood for something sweet and tasty."
XENA: "It's not about me. It's about these people. That's why we're
here. People like this used to be my victims. I keep that in mind every
time we come up against a warlord like Talmadeus. It's the greater good.
Remember that."
The immortal adjusted her hood minutely, making sure it was far enough
forward to disguise her face without interfering with her ability to assess
the area for threats. The horse under her occasionally started at shadows
so she had to keep a firm hold on the reins. It had grown accustomed to
her nocturnal ways and was having trouble adjusting to the full, harsh
light of mid-day again.
A country road cut in front of her, stopping her in her tracks and presenting
several choices. Xena levelled a considering gaze down either direction
the rutted road ran, then across into the next clump of concealing brush.
She'd travelled this way several times before and had a rough idea what
lay in all about her. Almost as an afterthought she glanced back the way
she had come.
The horse shifted impatiently, waiting to given a clear indication of
direction. "I know just how you feel, girl." Xena whispered, patting the
warm, broad neck. [I need to chase that lot of Brits down and let them
know about the French column tromping about... so they can take care of the
problem.> She considered. [Then I'll pull back for a while.]
Her upper lip curled, recalling some of the more loathsome depredations
she'd come across or heard described concerning the French in this area.
[I almost think I should take on one more batch of scoundrels, beloved.
There's no way proper English soldiers will dole out the kind of retribution
that these bastards have earned.] Xena concluded. [This lot have been
rather nasty... but I know I promised you I was going to pull back and reconsider.
Really. At least I'll try.] She added on at the end, aware that her intentions
weren't as sincere as they could have been. Every hour that passed picked
away at her earlier decision.
Xena positioned herself on the map inside her mind. [There's a couple
of out of the way farms down that way.] She glanced to the right. A quick
stop for re-supplying and information trading would be just the thing.
Perhaps Sharpe's lot had already come through this way. Since the road
looked so lightly travelled the warrior decided to chance using it.
A faint smudge of smoke against the harsh blue of the sky brought a
worried frown to her face. Xena clicked her tongue and urged her mount
into a quicker walk. A few minutes ride brought her in sight of what had
been a neat little farmhouse just yesterday. It more closely resembled
the aftermath of a battleground now.
The buildings smouldered sullenly, spreading a haze all about the area.
Farm tools and household goods were scattered about haphazardly. Some were
broken, but most had just been tossed aside as if considered useless.
Xena drew her mare to an abrupt stop as she came upon the first body.
She knelt down on the damp, scarlet stained ground. The food she had in
her stomach attempted to force it's way back up her throat.
What looked like a crippling wound near the young man's hip must have
been what had taken him down but it wasn't the cause of death. Blood gouges
testified where the assailant had gripped the young man's chin and jaw.
A large hand had dug into the face of the now ruined head and bashed it
into the hard dirt enough times to cave in the skull. A red smear marked
the exact place.
{Gods.} Xena hissed out in a form of Greek she hadn't used in nearly
two thousand years. The perpetrator of this death was a savage. She stood
slowly, dreading what was ahead.
The next man had died a slightly cleaner death. Two shots had stopped
this one, the first in the chest and the other in the lower ribs. A pitchfork
near one limp arm suggested a feeble attempt at defence.
The wind tossed a thick gout of greasy smoke in Xena's face, choking
her. The weak bleat of a wounded animal sounded from behind the ruin of
an outbuilding.
Her mount was twitching, threatening to bolt from the stink of blood
and smoke. She grabbed after the halter then tied the reins to an overturned
wheelbarrow that wasn't too close to either of the bodies. "Easy girl."
The soothing Spanish seemed to calm the beast slightly. "The bastards seem
to be gone." She would examine the torn up yard soon enough. First Xena
had to check for survivors, however unlikely.
Two more still forms were tossed to the ground near the well. The parents,
the warrior guessed, considering the age of the man and woman.
The man was trussed up with his arms secure behind his back. Dirty boot-marks,
spectacular bruising and bits of bone piercing up through puffy skin suggested
that he had endured agony before death took him.
Xena closed the swollen eyelids, finding the warmth hadn't left the
poor man yet. So he had either laid here, dying by inches for a long time...or
the animals that had done this had only recently left.
She turned to the elderly woman finally. A mask of pure rage had hardened
her features but still Xena's mouth tightened at this last indecency. The
old lady's clothing had been torn away through brute force, exposing the
frail body. For the second time Xena found a mutilated face and the flattened
wreck of a human head. This time one of the eye sockets had served as a
gripping point.
[Barbarians!] Her mind screamed even as her face froze into an expression
of utter contempt. [Pitiful excuses for soldiers! They aren't fit for
anything but maggot meat.] Xena raged internally. [You see what I'm
up against. Savages!] She rose up, sweeping the area with eyes that burned
hotter than the fires about her. [I'll kill them all.] She vowed. [I'll
see the crows feasting on their leader's eyes.]
Xena searched the rest of the farm with brutal efficiency but found
no more bodies, only smashed possessions and mindless destruction. Most
of the livestock were gone and what she could see of the buildings suggested
they had been ransacked. Eventually she circled back around to the gore-spattered
yard.
Placing her feet carefully, Xena walked about examining the rutted and
scuffed dirt. The most tell-tale evidence was at the edge of the actual
yard. It appeared that the raiders had split into two groups. A pair of
them, loaded down with their plunder, had gone one way with a couple of
donkeys. The three remaining marauders had walked off in the opposite direction,
completely unencumbered.
[So who dies first?] Her teeth bared into a smile that had nothing
to do with happiness. The burdened pair would be easier to catch but... Xena's
pale blue eyes traced the threesome's tracks, pondering what she know of
the surrounding area.
{Dios Santo!} The exclamation was dragged from the depths of her chest.
Another farm lay a short distance off in that direction. The family that
occupied it was young with a handful of children. The decision became painfully
clear.
Xena lunged for the reins of her horse, almost breaking them in her
haste to free the loose knot. The mare was urged into motion before she
had even seated herself properly.
[They haven't been gone from here long.] The angry woman told herself.
[And they're on foot.] Her legs squeezed, telling the horse to gallop
even faster. Almost instinctively she reached over her shoulder to draw
her sword. Xena didn't want the easy death of a pistol ball for these beasts.
She needed the satisfaction of feeling their flesh part beneath her blade.
Her mind lost clarity of projection in a wash of pure rage. There was no
need to think. She didn't have to track in order to follow their route.
It was obvious where they were heading.
Bent low over the neck of her mount, ears straining forward, Xena heard
the trouble even before she broke into the clearing of the next farm's
property. A shot echoed above the pounding of hooves and screams of fright
pinpointed her first targets. Near the barn door the farmer was being knocked
to the ground while several children cowered under guard from a second
uniformed soldier.
If a horse charging into their midst didn't catch their attention, Xena's
dismount did. In a blur the warrior heaved herself up to her feet on the
hard saddle and leapt. The move helped her to avoid the blast from the
guarding man's musket.
Xena landed near the closest of the two soldiers with her swing already
beginning. The first four inches of her sword cut a neat diagonal slice
right from his shoulder to his hip, spilling the man's insides before he
hit the ground. With a grin of triumph Xena spun to meet the second man,
who was levelling his bayonet. He charged and she neatly side-stepped the
lunge, whirling to slice across the backs of his legs. Some small part
of her brain registered the wails of the children nearby but dismissed
the sound as unimportant.
The soldier tripping in front of her flipped over onto his back and
attempted to crab-crawl away from her.
{I've been seeing a lot of your work.} Xena hissed in French. Catching
her long sword in a downward grip, she plunged the point through one of
his shoulders, pinning him in place. {You are a waste of skin.} Her foot
moved to rest between his legs. A bouncing shift put her entire body-weight
onto that heel, making the man howl in agony. {Garbage!} She accused. Removing
her blade from his shoulder, Xena proceeded to stab down...inflicting hard,
random punctures, heedless of the splatters the action tossed up at her.
{What the hell is going on out here?} A deep French voice demanded.
The last of the three soldiers emerged from the barn, dragging a half-naked
woman by the hair. His Sergeant's jacket hung open and his trouser ties
were loose. Xena sized him up with one contemptuous glare. He had no musket
or pistol, just a huge knife in the hand not clutching dark, curly hair.
{Fresh meat.} Malais tossed aside the sagging, whiny creature he held
and barred his teeth. This hellcat had killed his men by the looks of things.
First he was going to cripple her then he was going to break her into a
sobbing heap. Sure she held a sword against his knife but no woman was
the match of Francois Malais. He took up a stance. {You want to dance,
whore?} The tip of his blade gestured a come-on.
Xena raised her sword up, sending a spill of blood down the blade to
trickle over the hilt. Her eyes narrowed and a war cry threatened at the
back of her throat.
{Come on sweetie.} The Sergeant coaxed. {Let's get this over with and
I'll slide you a slab of what you really need...while I smear the insides
of that head of yours across the side of the barn.} The thick fingers of
his free hand flexed in anticipation of crushing her skull.
{You...} Xena realised she was facing the one who liked bashing his
victims brains out. Her first move was a fleeting slice and retreat, testing
him. The tip of her long sword slipped inside his reach, cutting open his
black stubbled cheek.
His attempt at a block had been too low. He had expected a body lunge.
{Bitch!} Malais bellowed at the stinging pain. His estimation of his opponent
raised. A tall, dark-haired woman with a sword, travelling alone...He realised
he had found 'La Princesa Guerrera'. {I'm going to take your head back
to Paris in a bag, Princess.}
{You're going to die slowly, dog.} Xena countered, flashing forward
to raise a shallow line of blood across his belly.
Malais growled, but instead of pushing ahead he dived to one side, scrambling
after a musket near the open barn door.
"NON!" The warrior threw herself after her target, her bloody sword
flashing in an arch. The heavy blade came down across the Sergeant's wrist
just as he was catching up the gun. His hand and the weapon plopped back
down to the rutted dirt. Crimson spurted and the soldier screamed out his
disbelief and agony. {Is that the hand you gouged her eye out with, beast?}
Xena demanded, landing a solid kick in the blubbering man's ribs. She forced
him over onto his back and hacked again before he regroup his senses... taking
his other hand. {Or was it that one?} The dripping end of her sword indicated
his now truncated left elbow.
{No! No! I surrender. Stop!} Malais squealed. {Don't kill me.}
The horror in his expression did nothing to satisfy her bloodlust. Planting
her weapon, blade first, into the ground Xena reached down and caught him
up by the fabric of his jacket. Three steps brought her captive to a stack
of burning grain sacks. His long greasy hair caught flame quickly when
she shoved his head into the sullen fire.
The Sergeant's screams raised an octave and he thrashed in her grip.
{MERCY!}
{I've seen what you've done!} Xena shouted, pulling him back out of
the flames and hauling the flailing form back to the barn. His struggles
were growing weaker as the blood drained out of his body. {You wanted my
attention.} Her rant continued as she scooped up the musket he had been
groping after. {Well...you got it.} Xena slammed him up against the inside
of the barn door and before he could slump down to the ground, the warrior
used the bayonet of the weapon to pin him in place. The pointed metal rod
punched through his chest and into the solid wood with a satisfying thunk.
{You can die now.} Xena whispered as she watched what little sense he had
left fade from his dark eyes.
With a shivering sigh of pleasure the ancient immortal turned from her
kill to check on the welfare of the family she had saved. All but the youngest
of the potential victims were staring up at her with eyes so wide it looked
painful. The littlest was clutched to his mother's breast, hiding his face.
"How badly are you hurt?" Xena flipped from French to Spanish now that
all the soldiers were disposed of. She took a step in their direction.
The Mother squeaked her distress and hopelessly attempted to gather
all her children to her. The Father pushed painfully to his feet. "You're
scaring the children." He said cautiously. "Please don't come any closer."
The warrior hesitated, feeling the sticky sensation of drying blood
on her skin for the first time. "I'll wash off then help you with this
mess." She began.
On the ground the soldier she had repeatedly stabbed let out a faint
groan. Without hesitation Xena walked over, planted a foot on his neck
and stomped, breaking it. The wail that the action drew from the farmwife
caught her completely by surprise. "What is it?"
"Take anything you want." The farmer offered. He rousted the kids. "Come
children. We have to get out of here."
"Is the Lady going to kill us too, Papa?" One asked in an over-exaggerated
whisper.
As if for the first time, Xena swept her gaze over the wreckage she
had made of the three Frenchmen, then looked down at herself. [I practically
bathed in it.] The soldiers' blood coated her. Xena's knees simply gave
out. She dropped down into a cross-legged position, still staring at her
red stained hands.
Around the seemingly catatonic Partisan the family shifted cautiously
into action. Writing off the contents of the still burning house...the
Mother, Father, and oldest children gathered up what few useful possessions
they could and loaded a mule. The tinest huddled together, fearful of touching
any of the French or even looking Xena's way.
It wasn't until the group had finished their packing and were about
to leave that the warrior looked up, noting that they had prepared to head
towards their neighbours' home. "Don't." Xena croaked out. "You don't want
to go in that direction." She elaborated.
"The family that lives down that way... the Ferentez... "
"All dead." She cut off the farmer's sentence. "These... " Her hand gestured
absently at the corpses that lay about. "These ones, they came from there."
Xena looked off in another direction, unable to stomach the looks on the
faces of the children. "These men are part of a larger force. You don't
want to be anywhere near here when that lot come after these." She left
the reasons unclear. Part of it might be the reaction the French soldiers
would have to her brand of justice but Xena's intentions were dire as well.
"Go south towards the English... quickly." Her head dropped down as if the
words had drained something out of her.
It wasn't until the family departed that Xena ran a considering look
about, noting the bodies, a tipped smouldering wagon, and a few other cast-off
bits. The smile that suddenly lit up her face was terrifying to behold.
It was time to make a statement, to throw down the gauntlet and put the
fear of 'La Princesa Guerrera' into those French barbarians.
COMPTE DE MARQUERRE: "If you were in my position you would have
done the same."
In a reversal of their usual duties Richard Sharpe was pulling guard
duty. He stood with his rifle at ready, examining their surroundings for
any movement. Hagman crouched low to the ground, his mind on finding the
next pointer along their errant Colonel's trail.
"Give me a minute, Sir. I've lost him again. I think he's changed direction."
The tracker rose, joints protesting. "But as near as I can tell he's still
alone. Damned if I know what the man is up to."
"Shite." Richard cursed. He briefly considered Harris, who he had left
waiting for the rest of the lads back by the stream. Their small group
was broken into too many small fragments. "How fast is he moving? Can we
spare the time to let the others catch up to us?"
The rangy rifleman shrugged. "He's speeding up as we get further from
the water... being less careful. I should find signs of him without too much
bother. Still, it's hard to figure him out without knowing his destination,
Sir."
"Are you sure the bugger's not just trying to find his way back to us... or
the British lines?"
A weary lift of his greying brows preceded Dan's reply. "Unless he's
an idiot... he's not looking for us. As for heading back to camp, I doubt
it, but I can't say yes or no for sure. The Colonel's put some effort into
shaking us off his trail, Major." Hagman reminded his officer.
Sharpe scowled at the surrounding greenery. What the hell was Mulder
thinking? Every moment the question of whether to keep chasing the man
down warred with the task that Wellington had set them. They were supposed
to be finding and returning with 'La Princesa Guerrera' not crawling through
the underbrush looking for a wayward pain in the ass.
Hagman was blessedly still while the Major weighted the two alternatives.
Maybe, Richard considered, he could mesh the two errands. If they could
turn up Xena perhaps the partisan could help them find the Colonel. "Lets
go back, Dan." Sharpe decided.
"As you say, Sir."
They turned about. The trail markers they had left for Harris and the
others made finding the return route simple. Richard didn't need to concentrate
so a corner of his mind could afford to wander.
Between hunting for clues about Xena and the Colonel's constant provocation
Richard had spent a lot of time thinking about Teresa lately... not that his
late wife ever disappeared from his thoughts for long. Surprisingly enough
the memories didn't cause the same tearing pain as they had just a short
time ago. Although he still felt the emptiness inside it was manageable,
like an ageing wound. That comparison brought a rueful half-smile to his
face. The Lord knew his body had endured more than it's fair share of damage
over the years. One of the women he had tumbled with had begun counting
the marks on his skin as a lark. She had started with the scar along his
left eyebrow. Richard couldn't clearly recall whether she had lost count
or lost interest in the game... only that the exercise had degenerated into
yet another bout of sheet tangling.
That particular phrase brought his mind right back to Colonel Mulder.
Maybe if the man had taken a slightly different approach then Mulder's
attentions wouldn't have disturbed Richard as much as they did. As it was,
Sharpe couldn't shake the feeling that there was something decidedly 'off'
about the Colonel. This escapade was confirmation. It was just plain foolishness
to get involved with an exploring officer and Hogan had told Richard right
up front that Mulder was marked for espionage. To become a spy a man had
to possess some odd bends in his personality. Sharpe preferred to keep
his distance from Hogan and his shifty lot whenever possible. The fiasco
of his brief, ill-fated friendship with Jack Spears leap to the fore of
his thoughts. [Damn, but I liked the man. Trust me to take a fancy to
a double agent.]
The quiet between them stretched on a long time. Hagman was content
to let the silence be for as long as was convenient. It wasn't until it
looked as if the Major was about to make a misstep that Dan reached out
to tap Sharpe's arm. "Sir." Hagman tipped his head to indicate a direction
change. The former poacher could tell by the look on his commander's face
that complicated thoughts were chasing through that blonde head. Dan knew
that the ability to think on his feet was one of the reasons that the Major
had climbed so high in the ranks. The problems bothering his officer now
must be fairly difficult to sift through to cause such a lapse in attention.
"Lead on." Sharpe prompted.
They started off once more at a slow steady pace. Richard couldn't help
but notice Hagman seemed to be even more watchful than usual, automatically
compensating for Sharpe's own distraction. "We need to find Xena." He said
softly. Saying it aloud helped. "I think we're close to finding her already."
Concentrating on the mission was a way to force his wandering mind back
into order. Richard didn't want to spend too much time haring about in
the wilderness. There was an offensive coming and he needed to be leading
his regiment. That was how he'd earn promotion. Covert asides like this
assignment weren't going to achieve him the kind of recognition he craved.
The only good things ever to come out of missions that Hogan had a hand
in were the times it hooked had him up with Teresa. Richard wondered a
moment if Xena was going to be as intriguing as her one-time student. Hard
on the heels of that thought was the revelation that he was curious about
Xena's physical appearance. The mourning attitude he had felt dragging
him at him for so long must be lifting. "I don't see how the woman can
manage to be so difficult to locate." Richard mused aloud. "I mean, how
many six foot, sword wielding, female partisans can there be out there,
eh Dan?"
That provoked a raspy chuckle. "I didn't think they grew them that big
hereabouts, Sir."
"She's not local." Sharpe stepped over a fallen tree. "I don't think
Teresa even knew where the woman came from originally. She mentioned something
about Germany once but... ." He shrugged.
"Maybe we'll get a surprise and discover she's some long lost cousin
of Sergeant Harper's." Hagman let out a sniff of amusement. "To hear the
Sergeant talk she sound right typical of a black Irish farm-wife... handsome
as a new coin and strong enough to pull the plow if the nag takes ill... all
the while popping out a baby a year."
"I might suggest that you don't repeat that anywhere that the Princesa
might overhear, Dan. I've a feeling those sentiments would earn you a rap
upside the head."
"Beggin' yer pardon, Sir. I didn't mean any offence by it." The older
man shifted uncomfortably at the realisation of how flippant that remark
had been.
"It's merely a jest, Dan." Sharpe eased. "It's nice to hear you speak
your mind once in a while."
A sparkle of light on the water ahead told them that they were approaching
the waterway. As fate would have it, Patrick and the others had just arrived.
They were just setting off after Sharpe and Hagman.
Richard approached, hand flat to halt their movement. "Change in plans,
Lads." Their Major informed them. "Or rather a return to course. We're
going to get back to our search for the Princesa." It wasn't his imagination.
That announcement provoked signs of satisfaction all around.
"So what's our direction, Sir?" Harris petted absently at the nose of
Mulder's horse.
"Towards the frogs." Richard decided. "We're going to close some of
the distance between us and that French column that's been causing all
the trouble with the farmers hereabouts." He informed them. "The thing
is not to engage them... just to get close enough so Xena will trip over us
if she's stalking them." He looked to Hagman. "You and Harris take point.
Give Perkins the lead to that damned horse." Sharpe instructed. "Cooper,
Sergeant Harper... mind our flanks."
For a moment it looked as if Patrick would object to the assignments
but the big man didn't give his protest voice.
Richard kept the animal between himself and Perkins. He still had more
baggage that needed straightening out.
EURIPIDES (to an audience): "There are stories of the Warrior Princess
that are so cold as to chill the heart."
Aleksandr wasn't surprised when Major Navarre chose to walk beside him
rather than ride when the column finally formed up to move out. They stayed
precisely in the centre of the group. Navarre's horse was behind and to
the right. Sergeant Moncrieff followed on Aleksandr's left.
The Major, after some encouragement, was supplying a rousing monologue
about a mounted clash he participated in during his time in Austria. Alek
listened carefully and watched even more intently. He needed to identify
and cache Etienne's different moods and how he displayed each. The Russian
would have to effectively counter the accusations that Malais would fling
at him the moment they met. He intended to hang onto his stolen rank with
tooth and nail, pleading astonishment at Malais' assertions of ownership.
Alek also had to see his handler dead once the game began or it would be
his ruin.
"You amaze me, Major Navarre." Aleksandr adjusted his pacing so they
were perfectly in step with one another and closed the distance between
them slightly so he could lower his voice. The other had shown no sign
of understanding English so Alek stuck to French when speaking. "How do
you decide when a situation is worth attempting as opposed to walking away
from it?"
Navarre hesitated. "In war it is simply a matter of following orders."
"But I suspect that your boldness extends outside the battlefield, Major
Navarre." Aleksandr cocked his head to one side. "Do you take such extravagant
chances... personally?"
That caused an in-drawn breath. Etienne levelled a stare. He tried to
decide if the other was flirting with him or if that was simply wishful
thinking. "I've taken some risks in the past, Colonel Alexander."
"Alex. I'd like you to call me Alex." The Russian whispered.
[He is flirting.] Navarre decided with a shiver of pleasure at the
timbre of that husky voice. "I think you're the one taking chances, Alex."
"Major Navarre, would you consider... "
The question was cut off by a shout from the leading edge of the patrol.
The Major's posture went rigid. His hand flicked to bring Moncrieff closer
to their erstwhile prisoner then Navarre strode ahead, hands steadying
his musket as he walked. By the time he reached the forward edge of the
group the cause of the disturbance was clear. The two soldiers from the
column who had gone with Malais on his expedition were returning to their
company.
The two men were loaded down with supplies and had two weighted donkeys
in tow. Their grins of triumph extinguished as soon as their Major levelled
his cold grey glare at them.
"Where is Sergeant Malais?" Etienne demanded in a cool, regal tone.
His attention was on the men but he took note of their generous quantity
of supplies. They must have stripped a farm clean to gather so much.
"I'm not exactly sure, Sir. The Sergeant told us to haul this stuff
back to base camp." The slightly shorter of the two young soldiers responded.
The other one was in the middle of a nervous squirm.
The Major frowned, waiting in silence until both were suffering from
a case of the fidgets. "Distribute the supplies that you're carrying quickly."
He ordered. "Then you will lead us back to where you left the Sergeant.
MOVE!" When Etienne's voice finally raised it set in motion a frantic flurry
of activity.
Navarre stalked back to where his horse and prisoner were still standing.
"Idiot Sergeant." The blonde grumbled in an undertone. "We need to pick
up the pace gentlemen." He announced to the whole group. "There's also
a chance that Sergeant's Malais' activities have attracted our vengeful
Princess to the area. Heads up. Full alert all about." Etienne stopped
right in front of Alek and ran a speculative gaze over the younger man.
"When did you last sleep?" He demanded.
Aleksandr looked down at his feet, considering, then chose the truth.
"The night before last."
The answer earned another appraisal. Etienne turned slightly looking
at the burdened donkeys that carried their excess gear before settling
his eyes on Moncrieff. "Give the Colonel the reins to my horse, Sergeant.
I won't have you slowing us down, Colonel Alexander." The second sentence
was turned back Alek's way.
"You are too kind, Major Navarre. Thank you." Aleksandr accepted the
mare's lead. He swung up in the saddle with an internal sigh of relief.
"Quick march. Let's move out." Etienne encouraged his men. He broke
into a jog, secure in the knowledge that they would follow his example.
Aleksandr allowed himself to sag in the saddle slightly but his thoughts
continued to run two steps ahead. Luckily after a lifetime on horseback
he didn't need to pay any mind in order to ride. Odds were that Malais'
had done his usual spree of wanton destruction... so it shouldn't be too much
of a task to get Navarre angry enough to pronounce a death sentence on
the bastard. The trick was going to be in convincing the Major that everything
Malais would claim was a complete lie.
Too soon they came upon the scene of the damage. Alek, well aware of
how tempting a target he would make to a sniper, slipped down to the bloody
ground. He paced over to where Navarre stood dispatching his soldiers about
the scene. The carnage was familiar enough to Aleksandr. He could pick
out the two Spaniards that Malais had killed by the type of injuries they
bore. "Your men are rather... enthusiastic foragers, Major Navarre." The Russian
commented blandly.
"They're not MY men." Etienne snapped back, hot with shame at the level
of devastation.
"My apologies. I was under the impression that this... Sergeant... was collecting
supplies for your soldiers." Alek stroked the forehead of the skittery
horse whose reins he still held. "I should have realised immediately that
an officer of your quality would never endorse such brazen brutality."
Navarre shot a furious glare at his prisoner. "Sergeant Malais is not
a proper French soldier."
"And obviously not under your command." The spy pushed carefully, treading
the edge of an insult.
"What are you suggesting Colonel Alexander? Are you saying that I can't
control my men?" Navarre's chin lifted and he glared.
Aleksandr took a few steps before stopping to gaze down at one of Malais'
victims. His stomach twisted into knots but Alek kept his voice in the
same gravely whisper he had been using so effectively against the other
man. "The men who did this are criminals... thugs and murderers. I wouldn't
want to be the officer responsible for such savages... but neither would I
want to take responsibility for letting this kind of mindless savagery
continue. I'm much relieved you aren't the man in charge of them, Major
Navarre. It would completely shatter my perceptions of you."
[Christ but the Brit was walking the edge of a razor.] Etienne's
anger at the almost insult warred with the need to explain the situation.
"They were assigned to me. Sergeant Malais is not... one of my Sergeants."
Navarre was disgusted. That sounded like a poor excuse even to himself
and he know the particulars.
"Of course, Major. The Sergeant is no doubt outside your control." Alek
made careful use of the ranks. "As an independent power he took two of
your soldiers... committed this outrage... and is beyond the reach of your authority
to discipline. I understand perfectly."
The Major's breathing had quickened to almost panting. A red cast was
staining his forehead and throat. Aleksandr was on the edge of bracing
for an attack when the Frenchman spun in place.
"VINAY! BEAULAC!" Etienne roared the names of the two men who had accompanied
Malais that morning. "Where do you think they went next?" He demanded of
the looters.
"Down the road." A quaking finger pointed the way.
Navarre's fume showed no sign of cooling. He glared at the rutted road
and then the donkeys that the trembling men were still leading. "You found
ample supplies here. Another stop was completely uncalled for."
The two squirmed in embarrassment.
"WHY?" Etienne practically screamed in Vinay's ear.
"The Sergeant... Sir... he wanted a woman."
"Hoof prints, Major Navarre!" One of the soldiers checking out the road
shouted. "Fresh cut and deep."
"Only one horse but it's moving fast." Another added.
"God damn... son of bitch." Etienne snapped. "I'm both disgusted and disappointed
with the pair of you." He hissed. These men had served under him long enough
to know their Major didn't approve of indiscriminate brutality. "You could
have acquired the same supplies without this kind of bloodshed." Navarre
was practically snarling. "You will stay here. Bury the dead, keep alert
and watch each other's backs." Considering the level of violence perpetrated
here it might attract the attention of their mission target. The idea of
offering up a couple of sacrificial lambs had a guilty, ruthless appeal
that Etienne would normally avoid... but if he was going to tempt the Warrior
Princess with an easy target, who better than these two. "I will consider
your further punishment when we return for you." He offered. "Or I can
have Sergeant Bascar shoot you now."
"We'll fix this up properly, Sir." Vinay responded. "Thank you, Sir."
The other mumbled the same words of gratitude with less enthusiasm.
Navarre nodded curtly. "Mount up, Colonel Alexander." He suggested.
"FORM UP! Move out!" The Major jogged up to the lead of the group and broke
into a loping run one more time.
Alek climbed back into the saddle and urged the mare forward. He spared
a flicker of curiosity over whether the two soldiers on burial duty would
still be there when they returned then set to contemplating the upcoming
encounter. Alek needed to hang back at the beginning and let the temper
he had frothed Navarre into take it's toll. If Malais didn't see his menial
until the threat of retribution was hard upon him then Alek could more
easily deflect the identification as an act of desperation.
A fleeting thought of attempting flight right now darted through Aleksandr's
thoughts but he dismissed it as panicked nonsense. First of all, no horse
was faster than the musket fire that fleeing would earn him... and secondly,
Alek needed to ensure Malais' death before he could dare this plan. It
was far more practical to just fade into the darkness as he had with Sharpe's
lot. The Russian spent the ride plotting and counterplotting all of Malais'
possible accusations.
The odour hit the Frenchmen first. The previous site had the smell of
death but for some reason this one seemed worse.
Aleksandr, lingering back as far he could, heard the sound of someone
vomiting before he got a clear sight of what was happening. The mare he
was riding stopped dead on the outer edge of the farmyard not wishing to
move forward even when Alex dug his heels in.
"SECURE THE PERIMETER!" Navarre's voice actually echoed in the sooty
air.
Alek slid down to the dirt and caught the bridle of the mare in his
hand, tugging her forward by force. Sergeant Moncrieff was all but bouncing
in his impatience to join the rest of the group. He actually stepped away
the prisoner's side, rushing forward as soon as the full impact of the
display before them sunk in.
"At least attempt to identify it before you shoot it." The Major snapped
impatiently at some inaudible remark.
Aleksandr Viktorvich Krycek thought he had seen some of the worst things
that one human could do to another. This topped nearly everything. The
stink of blood smacked Alek in the face. The ground under his feet was
sticky with it. Under that stench lurked bile, acidic fear and the sweetish
scent of burnt flesh.
A pair of huge, slightly charred wagon wheels were leaning near the
entrance of what remained of the house. Aleksandr thought he might recognise
the faces of the two bodies stretched out and fastened to the spokes, but
it was hard to be sure. It was difficult to look straight at the men and
see beyond their sliced bodies and escaping innards. The poses might be
post-mortem if the clear cut drag marks could be believed. Alek didn't
doubt that anyone still alive would have fought, smearing the trails.
Not too far from Alek, Moncrieff was staring at the grisly scene while
he crossed himself and swore at the same time. The man didn't seem to care
when his charge walked away, dragging the horse over to the nearby barn.
Maybe a drink of water from the trough might calm the poor things nerves.
Not so strangely, Navarre took no notice of the Colonel's actions. He
was intent on barking out orders, demands for information and attempting
to sort out some kind of orderly search for Malais' body. No one expected
they would find anything more than a dead body considering the state of
the other men. The Major wouldn't be surprised by a head on post at this
point.
The Russian's eyes swept the site but he kept the rest of his face a
bland mask. Only his less than gentle treatment of the stubborn horse betrayed
the level of distress he was feeling. "Hold still, you ruddy big beast."
He tied the lead in place then turned, rubbing the arm it had fought against.
A sharpened bit of metal caught his eye. It was poking out through the
weathered wood of the barn door just below his line of sight. A thin trickle
of red had dripped from it. Without bothering to check for permission Alek
lifted the simple latch that held the massive door closed. He stepped aside
as the weight of the portal caused it to swing. The thing got about halfway
open before snagging.
Aleksandr couldn't hold on to his disinterest. "Ebat'-kopat'!" The Russian
curse was startled out of him. The sight of Malais pinned, feet dragging
in the dirt, to the inside of the barn door was enough to bring a sharp
smile of pleasure to his face. "Da-svedanya ty sukin syn." He whispered,
enjoying the moment of private satisfaction. Malais' arms hung at his sides,
crusted with gore at the ends where his wrists should be. The bayonet of
a musket held the body upright. It wobbled with the weight of the severed
hand that decorated it. A scrap of paper was wedged in the stiff white
fingers.
The spy, acting on years of habit, didn't hesitate to seize and read
the note. In flawless French was written:
These men are murderers, rapists and thieves. They do not deserve
to die as warriors. Those responsible for allowing monsters like these
to go unpunished for their crimes against the innocent people of this land
will suffer a similar fate.
He tucked the notice away inside his jacket without a second thought.
"COLONEL ALEXANDER!"
The bellow came from the far side of the door. It appeared as if the
Major had finally noticed that his prisoner was no where to be seen. Aleksandr
stepped to one side, displaying himself to Navarre and a glowering Moncrieff.
"I think, Major Navarre, that I've discovered your wayward Sergeant." A
hard shove forced Malais' heels over the raised bit of ground that had
stalled the action of the barn door. The body was easily viewed by everyone
in the yard.
"Mon Dieu." Etienne stared. Sergeant Malais was hung up like some kind
of grotesque scarecrow. Navarre hissed out the breath of foul air that
his shock had pulled in. The eerie silence that had greeted the discovery
of the new body allowed the sound to reach even Alek's ears. Etienne pinched
the bridge of his nose and turned back to his men.
*
Far enough away that she had to use a telescope to view the proceedings,
Xena grinned at the officer's reaction before returning to the task she
had set herself. The warrior counted. Nineteen men in all moved about below
her. Two Sergeants, a Major, and strangely enough... what looked like a British
officer. He had been the one to discover her piece-de-resistance. That
one must be a prisoner despite the fact he had been the only one riding
when they arrived. He carried no gun, after all.
There were too many frogs for her to take on alone considering all those
muskets and the defensiveness she had hyped them into. Luckily, that captured
officer might be just the incentive she needed if the plan slowly building
in her mind failed.
Xena wiggled backwards to where she had tied her horse. First she would
go back to other farm and clean up. Perhaps, if the fates were feeling
kind, the Frogs may have left a smaller party behind for her to play with.
She intended to find out how cohesive the unit she faced really was. The
warrior didn't expect too much loyalty to the column's officers considering
the conduct of the soldiers that she had already encountered.
*
Down below Major Navarre had returned to issuing orders. "Bascar, comb
the area for trail signs. We know where this vigilante rode in... I want to
know which way he or she left... how far ahead the scoundrel is... and what happened
to the people who lived here. I need some answers." Etienne looked about.
"Moncrieff, tighten up our pickets. Keep them moving. We are now the quarry
as well as the hunters."
"Oui Commandant." They answered together before departing.
The Major made himself go over to the two soldiers displayed on wheels
and actually examine the damage. There was no sign of musket or pistol
shot. Most of the damage was indicative of an edged weapon except for the
odd angle one head hung at. They were tied in place with mismatched bits
of rope and strapping, suggesting this wasn't carefully pre-planned.
"Should we cut them down, Sir?" One of the nearest soldiers asked in
an uncomfortable tone.
"Leave them." The Major countered. "You saw what they did at the other
farm. We all know how they've been conducting themselves since they began
tagging after us. These are not French soldiers. They're bandits... who followed
a beast. This is no more than they deserve. I'll not allow good men to
dirty their hands on the likes of these." He looked across at the speaker.
"You men... my men... are best used as the finely trained soldiers you are... not
as gravediggers for pirates."
"Yes Sir." Once more the man's attention turned outward to the surrounding
area.
Finally Etienne rejoined the Colonel, who was still standing near the
decorated barn door. The younger man seemed to be studying Malais' body.
"Whatever are you thinking about, Colonel Alexander?"
Aleksandr continued to stare. "Justice. I'm thinking about justice... and
wondering where the Sergeant's other hand got to?"
Navarre frowned, realising that no one had come across that limb yet.
Alek had to tear his gaze off the sight of his long-time tormentor's
lifeless body. An unreasonable fear mocked him... that the man would surge
to life once more if the spy dared to turn his back. "What now, Major Navarre?"
Aleksandr fought to keep his voice unaffected by the variety of emotions
that twisted him.
"My mission has become suddenly urgent and within my grasp, I think.
There will be a delay taking you in Colonel. I hope you can endure my company
a little longer."
"My time in your company has been the high-light of my year." Alek didn't
need to lie. Suddenly his whole life was turning around. [I can change
now, Mama. I can finally become a son worthy of you.] He pledged to his
guardian angel. [It's all going to be different from now on. I swear.]
"We'll finish up here... go back and collect the men on punishment detail... tend
to my mission... " Etienne listed. "Then I'll see you into proper custody,
as befits your rank, myself."
The Russian couldn't help but smile at how bright the future suddenly
appeared. It transformed his features from attractive to absolutely devastating.
"Alex... " Etienne didn't mean to use the name but his chest had squeezed
tight, forcing out the word on hovering on his lips.
"Etienne?" Aleksandr responded in kind, without permission. The flustered
wince his murmur provoked pleased him.
The Major's mouth opened uselessly and both of his hands began to reach
before Navarre regained control, recalling where he was and who was nearby.
"We should... " The thought began to emerge then completely evaded him.
"Yes, we should, Etienne. I want to."
{Putain de bordel! C'est ali.} Navarre tore himself
away from the other officer and the sudden dangerous tension that had sprung
up between them. "Absolutely insane." He walked away in something near
a daze.
Aleksandr treated himself to one more glance at Malais' chilling corpse
and a quiet laugh of amusement before turning to the task of untangling
the reins of the Major's horse.
MULDER: "Divide and conquer. If your enemy has greater numbers than
you, you divide and conquer it to diminish those numbers."
She couldn't afford to let herself slip out of control this time. Xena
wanted more than simple revenge on these two soldiers. To their credit,
they were burying bodies rather than wreaking more havoc but they possessed
something that Xena required... information. Simply because they were French
soldiers, there wasn't any chance that they would survive the interrogation.
They seemed to be just finishing up a burial detail. One walked a wary
guard while the other tossed aside the shovel and proceeded to brush himself
off.
Slinking forward to crouch in the cover of the stone well, the warrior
could just make out the conversation between the two soldiers.
"What do you suppose he meant?" The digger shrugged into his blue jacket
and picked up his weapon. A nervous look was raked over the road. "You've
been with the Major longer than I have."
"It's hard to say." The guard's shoulders shifted. "We were only following
the Sergeant's lead... but the Major's got particular ideas of what's right
and wrong. I suppose we'll find out when they get back." He paused to peer
into the shadow of the ruined house. "The sooner the better I'd say. This
place gives me the creeps."
"I wouldn't be so hasty." The other contradicted.
Xena tensed to spring into action.
The grubbier of the two slipped into an oily mock whisper. "I'm thinking
that it might be in our best interests to make ourselves scarce before
they come back."
"Desert?"
The near yelp of surprise froze their stalker in place. Xena waited
momentarily to see what would happen next.
"Why the crap not?" A musket barrel gestured. "Why stay here and maybe
get flogged when... "
She made her move as the two men were distracted by their discussion.
The words helped Xena decide which of them would die first. She surged
forward, sword extended to skewer the one who had been on watch. Leaving
the sword in his chest, she let the momentum of her charge continue to
carry her. The warrior toppled the other soldier before he had time to
raise his gun.
Her hands snapped out, fingers tight together. Two jabs near the man's
collar dropped him to the ground near the mass grave he had just filled
in.
Xena knelt beside the prone figure. "That hurts, doesn't it? It's because
I've cut off the flow of blood to your brain. You'll be dead in seconds
if I don't remove the block." She informed the trembling man. "You had
best answer my questions." The immortal tossed his gun aside negligently.
"Who is your Commander and what is your mission?"
The soldier's limbs shook and his eyes were wide. "Major Navarre." He
stuttered out. "We're hunting the Warrior Princess." His voice quavered
in fright. "Please. I haven't done anything but follow orders."
"What's with the Brit travelling with your column?"
"He surrendered this morning... to... " The man passed on what his friends
had told him as they marched. Bulging eyes were beginning to roll back
in their sockets and a line of blood ran down from his nose and across
his lips. "Please."
Xena climbed to her feet and turned her back on the man as he went into
convulsions. She took the few steps needed to inspect her first victim
while the other's death gurgle assaulted her ears. A twinge of guilt was
ruthlessly quashed before it had a chance to form into disrupting mental
words. It wasn't Gabrielle speaking to her. It was only Xena's guilty conscience
using the most effective tool... and the warrior didn't dare allow herself
to listen.
[Justice.] The dark-haired woman shot the single word down the fragile
bond that held her back from complete disregard for anything but bloody
vengeance. This Major Navarre had ordered carnage. It was time to see that
he got what he desired.
No convenient wagon wheels presented themselves to Xena's searching
gaze. She didn't want to waste time so the immortal's imagination alighted
on another possibility. What she needed was something dramatic and clearly
visible to the entire column. Perhaps with the right motivation the Major's
own men would turn on him and begin her task for her.
Removing her heavy sword from the dead man's chest, Xena braced herself
and chopped down. Concentrating on how badly her weapon was going to need
tending after today's blunting butchery took her into the state she needed
to calmly place her props.
Some bits of charcoaled wood and debris worked well as writing instruments.
This warning needed to be large enough that all the men who could read
would be able to see it. Dissent among the Frogs would tip the balance
enough that she wouldn't have to enlist the Brits to her aid.
As soon as the set-up was complete Xena headed for cover. She collected
her mount from the brush near the road and set to gaining altitude. She
wanted an unobstructed view of the French when they arrived but she needed
to be well outside their pickets. It was a pity she wouldn't get to hear
the impending conflict but actions and body language should tell her enough.
The immortal was comfortably settled into position before her targets
came running up the road. Strangely enough the Major was right in the front
rank. Most officers would have hung back in such a situation.
A flare of satisfaction warmed her as the soldiers noticed the first
severed, mounted head. One of them actually turned away to vomit while
the rest looked queasy.
The Major and his Sergeants were quick to set up guards. They posted
their perimeter well within the limitations of practical space and manpower.
These men were savvy about their own capabilities. That didn't bode well
for the possibility of picking them off gradually. That method would take
too long. Xena wanted them all dead as quickly as possible.
The second body was tossed carelessly on the ground near the gate to
the vegetable garden. His head adorned the highest part of the fence. It
was on the wall of the shed just outside that garden that Xena had scrawled
her message. The tool shed was the only structure still intact.
She had made this note a personal attack, attempting to form a rift
between the officers and the men.
Major Navarre
Xena watched the import of her words break through the men of the column
like a wave. Those few who could read told the men who couldn't... who in
turn passed it along. A pleased smile spread across her lips as she watched
the two Sergeants exchange worried looks and stiffen in reaction to her
threat. Xena trained her spyglass on the Major, anticipating his discomfort
when he realised she'd all but suggested his men either turn on him to
protect themselves or run away.
Much to the warrior's annoyance the officer didn't even flinch, but
rather continued to behave as if the threat were nothing but idle boasting.
He began to calmly issue orders.
Even more puzzling was what happened next.
Two of the common soldiers had fallen into a very promising huddle.
Several black looks were aimed at the Major's unconcerned back and Xena
began to hope for a crack to form in the unit. The Major didn't seem to
be aware of the threat and the Sergeants were already busy organising the
guards and a burial detail.
It was the British officer who took notice of the poisoned glowers.
The green clad man very casually walked over and stationed himself at the
French Major's back. There was, however, nothing subtle about the ready
stance he took up and the way his hand rested on the hilt of his belt knife
as he stared the possible troublemakers down.
Xena pulled the telescope away from her eye with a frown. So they weren't
the unruly rabble she had hoped for. It looked as if she was going to need
those damned British riflemen after all.
*
The object of Xena's confusion shot one more deadly glare at the conspiring
soldiers then flicked his hand, suggesting that they separate. There was
no way Alek wanted to be caught in the middle of a struggle for leadership
or a mass desertion. He needed these musket toting goons as protection
for a while yet.
"Major." Aleksandr kept up his scrutiny of the men as he spoke softly
to his temporary protector.
"Colonel?" Etienne responded in the same low tone.
"I don't mean to second guess you... but now would be a good time to offer
up a few words of solidarity." The Russian prompted gently.
"All in good time." Navarre assured. "I won't react in panic. It sets
a bad example." He explained. "but before we go I will remind them that
order and vigilance are the best methods of dealing with a lone attacker.
She doesn't dare assault us face on considering the odds. This propaganda... ."
Etienne tilted his head. "... might have worked on a less disciplined lot
but now that Malais' influence is gone I expect I'll regain the crack company
that I assembled and trained."
Aleksandr nodded his acknowledgement but inside his own head he shivered.
It was a fine short term solution but the idea of depending on others for
his safety would never be something he could be entirely comfortable with.
Alek shifted slightly and the rough crumpling of hard paper against his
chest reminded him of the earlier missive. "Major Navarre." A quick look
about told him no one was particularly watching them. "You should have
this." He extracted the message from his jacket and handed it over. "It
was affixed to the door at the other farm."
Etienne accepted the paper while searching the other's face. "Why did
you remove it?"
The spy shrugged. "I thought you should be the one to decide it the
men needed to know it's contents... not the Warrior Princess. I only want
what's best for you... and your position, Major Navarre."
A smile crooked Etienne's mouth. "Thank you... Alex. I'm concerned for
your welfare also. It occurs to me that perhaps I should delay this confrontation
with the Princess and see you to safety." Navarre was impressed. The sentiment
actually shocked the Colonel into a look of unfeigned surprise and dangerous
suspicion. The painfully honest emotion served to point out to Etienne
how carefully composed the Brit's expression usually was. Almost immediately
the mask... and Navarre now recognised what it was... settled back into place.
Christ, but he wanted to knock it askew again and see what was really going
in the younger man's head.
"You would forsake your mission to assure my safety. I'm flattered.
Admittedly I spent time in the command tent, but I can't share my knowledge
with you or your superiors." Aleksandr dropped a crumb. Getting away from
a vengeful murderess was in his and the Major's best interest.
Navarre studied his prisoner a moment before speaking. "I think we shall
withdraw back into French territory. The Princess is in a rage. She will
likely follow us regardless of our direction at this point." He outlined.
"And you need to be taken somewhere safer. Besides... " Etienne chuckled.
"It will make the men feel a bit more secure and seriously hamper any thoughts
of desertion."
"You know best, Major."
Etienne stared, wondering if his flash of insight had been an illusion.
The Colonel couldn't look more harmless. Tonight, once everything and everyone
was secure, he intended to try his damnedest to find out what was really
going on in his captive's head. "Stay here. Keep down. I think I'll hurry
the men along... and calm them down." Navarre added before walking away.
Aleksandr chose a relatively unstained spot on the ground with a certain
amount of cover and sat down. The diary he had taken from Mulder's fiancee
dug into his ribs. Taking the Princess' note out of the pocket had shifted
the small book in place. Alek extracted the burgundy volume and turned
it in his hands. He had already read most of the thing and the spy wasn't
much for carrying about unnecessary baggage. Flipping through the pages,
Aleksandr removed the loose paper with the old Greek tale Fox had written.
Keeping just the story, since it had caught his fancy, the Russian tossed
the diary into a pile of household wreckage.
[Two heads, four arms, and four legs... What do you think, Mama?] He
smiled at the much handled piece of paper before shoving it back inside
his clothing.
Xena cursed quietly to herself, wiggling back from her perch. The band
below her showed little evidence that her tactic was going to work. So
it was on to plan B.
The behaviour of the British officer down there was decidedly odd but
that wasn't her concern. All that mattered was that his presence would
provide bait. She would recruit the riflemen to her control by telling
them about the prisoner. A barrage of rifle fire would thin out the column
nicely. Then there was the inevitable follow-up attack. The conflict should
allow her the chance to battle her way to the Major's side.
The warrior crept away from the ridge and trotted to where her mount
was tucked away. Hopefully those Brits she been looking for hadn't wandered
too far afield. She didn't fancy wasting valuable time chasing the twits
down.
La Princesa Guerrera VI
by Carla Jane and Jim
GABRIELLE: "I miss her. There are so many things that
I wish I could tell her... I would have told her how empty my life was
before she came, and all the lessons I've learned, and that I love her."
SHARPE: "I might... but don't expect a happy ending. You have to be
a man, Marquerre. Me I changed me class. I was in the ranks. I can walk
into the officers' mess but I don't expect them to be happy about it. I
don't expect a round of applause. Same goes for my time with the lads.
I sit and drink tea but I'm not one of them anymore. You make your bed,
Marquerre, then you lie in it... without complaining."
The people of this farm did not deserve the heinous treatment afforded
them by your butchers. I hold you and your Sergeants responsible and will
see you pay for this atrocity. You can't run or hide from me. All who stand
between me and my vengeance will also die.
Your days are finite.
The Warrior Princess
