Captured Chapter 6

Captured, Chapter 6

Written by Virginia Leonard

Copyright 1997

 

            Brandy stood looking at the older woman for what seemed like

hours.  She was mesmerized by the large brown eyes, drawn into them,

surrounded by a warmth and wisdom that made the young woman feel

safe, protected and oddly enough vulnerable.

            “I know you don’t I?”  Brandy asked.

            The woman laughed a deep rich laugh that started in her chest

and rolled out through her mouth.  It was infectious and if everybody in

the group had been paying attention they would have realized that they

were also smiling.

            “In a manner of speaking.  I’ve visited you from time to time.

Only to make sure you were all right, mind you.  It was a request from

your mother and I honored it.”

            “I thought I knew you.  I used to see you in the tavern sitting

by yourself and drinking a......I can’t remember the name.”  Brandy said,

snapping her fingers.

            “Messovalia.”

            “Yeah...that’s it.”

            Xena raised one eyebrow and looked at the stranger who

returned the gaze with an equal amount of intensity.  Something

unspoken passed between the two, a sense of familiarity, of knowing

and yet not knowing, much like trying to remember something that plays

on the tip of one’s tongue but refuses to jump to the forefront of one’s

memory. 

            The stranger gave Xena a slight smile and a barely perceptible

nod of  her head before answering Brandy’s still unasked question.

            “She was my sister, your mother that is.”

            Brandy’s mouth fell open and though her jaw worked furiously

to form words, no sound would come from her throat.

            “Yes, my dear, that makes me your aunt.  You have other

family members, more aunts and cousins and they are all quite anxious

to meet you.”

            “Tell me about her.” Brandy begged.

            The strange woman laughed again.  “Patience, my Mahshika.  It

will be explained to you later.  Right now, I suggest you all get some

rest.  We leave at dawn and must travel at a strenuous pace.  It is

imperative that I get you all to safety.”

            Rhoane had taken a few steps forward and was now standing just

in front of Xena, both knives still in her hands and her fingers twitching

around the handle.  “Just who are you to be waltzing in here and start

giving the orders?”

            “I am who I said I was.  Brandy’s aunt, which is why I have

been given the task of getting you to the safety of our village.”

            Rhoane started to take a step towards the stranger.  “Oh, stop it

with the cryptic stuff and answer my question.”

            Xena caught a glimpse of the weapon that was concealed

beneath the woman’s cloak then quickly reached out and clamped a

hand around Rhoane’s mouth, pulling the thief back against her chest.

            The older woman softly laughed which made her eyes twinkle.

“I can see that our goddess has chosen well.  It’s all right, Xena, you

can release Rhoane.”

             Xena slowly loosened her grip but stayed ready in case Rhoane’s

mouth went into overdrive again.

            “How do you know my name?”  The thief was calm but still

maintained a cautious stance.

            “We’ve been watching you as well, young dahlnai.”  The woman

looked at Rhoane with unabashed amusement on her face.  “You certainly

have kept us....shall we say... entertained.”

            It was Xena’s turn to laugh at her friend’s embarrassment.

            “Oh shut up.”  Rhoane mumbled to her tall and obnoxious

friend as she re-sheathed her knives.

            “Now rest.  I’ll be watching over you while you sleep and

wake you in the morning,” Brandy’s aunt said then vanished into the

darkness without a trace.

            “Suppose she has a name?  I’ll feel stupid calling her ‘hey you’

for the entire trip,” Gabrielle asked.

            “Xmerson,” came a distant reply from everywhere and

nowhere in particular.

            The four travelers stood looking at each other.  Finally,

Gabrielle called out a thank you then crawled into the bedroll she shared

with the warrior.

            Xena did remove her weaponry but decided to leave her armor

on.  She slid under the blanket and pressed her front against Gabrielle’s

back, put one arm around the bard’s waist and the other under the

bard’s head then closed her strong arms around her love.

            “You know who she is don’t you,” Gabrielle whispered.

            “Not exactly.”

            Xena’s voice was low and her lips were next to Gabrielle’s ear.

The sound of the deep voice and the feeling of her lover’s breath against

her skin sent shivers across the bard’s body.

            “I recognize the name of the drink and I also recognize one of

the weapons she was wearing under her cloak but I find it unlikely that

she be the original owner.”       

            “Why?”

            “Because she would have to be over five hundred years old.”

            As Xena continued to talk, Gabrielle became lost in the sound

of the warrior’s voice.  She reached down and took Xena’s hand,

guiding it deeper under the blanket.  The smell of leather and oiled metal

enflamed Gabrielle more and she reached up with one hand to take a

fist full of raven colored hair, guiding Xena’s face closer to hers and

took from the warrior the kiss that belonged only to Gabrielle.

           

            From somewhere in the darkness a soft laugh sounded and the

older woman put her amulet back in her pouch.  She raised a snowy

white owl on her gloved hand and looked into its yellow eyes.

“Artemis, your wisdom, not to mention your passion for women,

astounds me.”

            The owl closed one eye then leaped into the air and glided

away on silent wings.  Xmerson settled on her tree limb and leaned

against the trunk, pulling her cloak around her for warmth as she

prepared to watch over her charges for the night.

 

            The four sleeping women were awakened well before daylight

and made to break camp.  They ate a cold breakfast of dried fruit and

some cheese with ewe’s milk to chase it down, all of which had been

provided by their guide. 

            Xmerson pushed them at a hard but not exhausting pace.  It

was obvious that she was in a hurry and when asked why, her only reply

was that they would find out soon enough.  That was the extent of any

conversation that any of them could get from her--that is except Brandy

who walked shoulder to shoulder with Xmerson and managed to

maintain a dizzying exchange of words with her aunt.

            The only time they were allowed to rest was during their brief

lunch break and even then, it was only long enough to eat the same as

they had been given at breakfast.

            They fell into a routine day after day until finally, on the

fourth evening, Xmerson called a halt well before sunset.  “We’ll camp

here for a few days.  Just through those trees is a small stream with

plenty of fish and fresh water for drinking or bathing.”

            “Why are we stopping?”  Brandy asked.

            “Because I have something I must attend to not far from here. 

I’ll only be away for a few days and it will give you and your horses

some time to rest.”

            “I thought you said we were in a hurry?” Gabrielle asked,

throwing her leg over Argo’s rump and sliding to the ground.

            “We are but I have something I must do here.”

            “What?” It was Xena’s turn to be curious.

            Xmerson stared a the warrior for a long moment, trying to

decide how much was safe to tell her little group of travelers.

            “There is a temple about a day’s walk from here and I must go

there, alone, to tend to some personal needs.  I’ll be back in a few

days.”

            Rhoane grumbled, under her breath, about mystics and the

improbability of ever getting a straight answer to a straight question out

of any of them.

            Xmerson smiled.  “All in good time my friend.  Every single

question you have will be answered by someone much more qualified

than I.”  Their guide started to turn and leave but stopped abruptly.

“Oh, I almost forgot.  Here is something for dinner.”  She reached under

her cloak and produced three plump rabbits, some odd looking white

tubers and a few other strange looking vegetables.

            “Where....” Rhoane began but stopped when she saw the look

that was painted across Xmerson’s face.  A look that seemed to ask the

question of whether the thief really wanted to know where the food had

come from.  “Nevermind.”  Rhoane said as she turned to go gather some

wood for a fire.

            Xena looked at Xmerson, who winked and smiled, then

watched her friend disappear into the trees.  When she looked back to

ask the older woman a question, she was stunned to see that Xmerson

had vanished.

            “How does she do that?” Xena asked, hands on her hips,

staring at the spot the woman had last occupied.

            “I have no idea.”  Gabrielle picked up the tubers and stared at

them for a moment.  “How do you suppose one cooks these?  I’ve never

seen one before.”

            “I have,” Xena replied, still staring towards the spot that

Xmerson had last stood.  “They grow in the highlands.  Peel ‘em then

Cut’em up and put ‘em in a stew with the rabbits.”

 

            Dinner turned out to be very tasty and quite filling.  They sat

around drinking the dark brewed beverage that Xmerson was so fond of

and relaxed into comfortable conversation.

            Rhoane stirred the honey and ewe’s milk into her drink.  “What

does she call this?”

            “Kava.”  Brandy answered.

            “It’s good.”  Rhoane paused to take a sip.  “I wish I knew more

about her.”

            Xena pulled her knees up to let Gabrielle lean back against her

chest and began to run her fingers through the silky red hair.

            “Well, there are a few clues that I’ve managed to put together.

The mark on her right temple...”

            “The row of dark lines that go up into her hair?”  Gabrielle

interrupted.

            “Yes...that’s the mark of a clan of Amazons who are pledged

to the protection of Artemis.  Those lines are supposed to represent the

owl’s wing.  It’s said that they can...

            “Communicate directly with the goddess.  I’ve heard the

legends but that’s all they are.  Stories.”  Gabrielle interrupted again.

            “Since you know so much, Missy, why don’t you tell the

story?”  Xena poked Gabrielle in the ribs.

            “Aiee!  Sorry.  You go ahead.”

            “What other clues?”  Rhoane asked.

            “Have you seen the weapon she carries under her cloak?”

            “I have,” Brandy answered quietly.

            “It’s called and Akaskan.”

            “It looks like a short sword to me,” Gabrielle chimed in.

            “It’s made like sword, sort of.  The handle is in the middle and

the ends are a blade with both edges kept razor sharp.  I’ve seen a

couple used in battle.  Great Zeus, but they are deadly.  The user whirls

and spins it, much like you use your staff, and if the user is any good,

they can take out almost an entire army by themselves.  The stories...”

Xena poked Gabrielle once again.  “...say that the Akaskan was first

hammered in the forges of Olympus for the goddess Artemis.  She

wanted a new hunting and fighting weapon.  One that wasn’t

cumbersome but could be used for utilitarian and defense purposes.

That weapon is what she came up with.”

            “So...what’s so special about that weapon that would tell us

who she is?”  Rhoane asked with a hint of skepticism.

            “Nothing until she uses it.  If she’s who I think she is, you

won’t be able to see the blade once she starts swinging it.  You’ll only

hear it.”

            “And how do you know so much?”

            “Be serious!  I sleep with a bard who talked in her sleep.”

            Without moving anything other than her arm, Gabrielle caught

Xena dead center on the forehead with the palm of her hand which

echoed around the tiny camp with a resounding smack.

            Rhoane sucked the inside of her jaws between her teeth to keep

from laughing then stood up.  “Come on Brandy.  I’m sure it’s my turn

to do the dishes and I could use some company besides, I don’t want

you picking up any of Gabrielle’s bad habits.  My head isn’t as hard as

Xena’s.”

            Rhoane never saw the leather and metal greave but was painfully

aware of the knot that was already beginning to form on the back of her

head.

 

            Brandy picked up the skillet and slowly turned it over in her

hands.  Rhoane watched her for a few minutes before finally speaking.

“Darlin”, what are you doing?”

            “Xena certainly is hard on her cooking utensils.”  Brandy

replied with a straight face.

            Rhoane burst out laughing and fell back on her elbows.

“Honey...you have no idea.”

            Brandy finished drying the skillet, laid it aside then turned and

sat on Rhoane’s hips.  She took the thief’s hands into her own and pressed

them to the ground giving the illusion that she had effectively pinned the

stronger woman down. 

            She looked deep into very blue eyes and tried to understand

just what is was that she saw there.  What was it that had made her fall

in love with this impudent yet sensitive woman? 

            Brandy had stopped looking at the women who came into the

tavern and resigned herself to the fact that her father would probably

arrange a marriage to a suitable mate from the village.  One, who would,

no doubt, help further his own interests, never giving a moment’s

thought to what his daughter might be feeling.

            That changed the moment she laid eyes on Rhoane.  She felt as if

she had been hit in the face with a bucket of ice water.  Her heart tripled

its pace and she found it extremely difficult to breathe.  No matter how

hard she tried, she could not fill her lungs with air. 

            The feeling that she had seen this woman before passed

through Brandy and once she was certain that what she was feeling was

not an anxiety attack, she made it clear to the other serving maids that

she would be waiting on whatever table Rhoane chose.

            “What?” Rhoane questioned.

            “Nothing.  Just looking.”

            “Why?  Do I have something stuck between my teeth?”

            Brandy grinned.  “I can think of a few things that you need to

have between your teeth.”

            Rhoane chuckled, a sound that echoed deep in her chest.  “Can

you now?”  With one swift move, the positions had reversed.  She

slowly leaned down and placed her lips over the soft ones of the woman

laying beneath her.  A now familiar tingle ran through Rhoane’s body.

The same tingle she felt when she and Brandy first touched the

medallion together.

            Instead of jolting the thief, as it had done the first time, it now

served to heighten her senses.  She felt what Brandy felt.  She

experienced the same sensations and the same reactions that her lover

did and each time they made love, the intensity of those feelings grew.

It overpowered them both, pulling them deeper and deeper into the

psyche of the other until they were so entwined that their physical

bodies ceased to exist and giving pleasure to the other’s soul was all

that mattered.

 

                        @@@

           

 

              Hersius cursed the still waters of the cauldron then spat into

its center, breaking the image of Rhoane and Brandy into pieces and

sending them to crash against the sides of the black iron.  The enraged

warrior reached out and grabbed the old witch by the throat.  “I should

reach in and rip your heart out then eat it while it’s still beating,” she

hissed, “except that you don’t have one.”

            “Leave her alone.  The images aren’t of her creation; she can

only reproduce the truth.”

            Hersius inclined her head as the voice behind her sent chills of

both fear and passion down her spine.  “Hello Leahnthea.  Perhaps it’s

your heart I should take.  I believe you were to take care of that pathetic

serving wench.”  Hersius released her grip and pushed the witch away.

“Leave us and take that disgusting pot with you.”

            Leahnthea’s blood red lips stretched into a smile and revealed a

thin line of white teeth.  She reached up and fingered the ruby that was

cradled at the tip of her cleavage while she strolled, with long swaying

steps, over to the dark and seething warrior.  She ran her hands up

Hersius’ soft leather shirt and wrapped them around the warrior’s neck.

“How was I to know that the thief I hired would go and fall in love?

We’ll just have to alter our plans, make certain they don’t reach their

destination.  As for now...” Leahnthea pulled the warlord down into a

hard and demanding kiss.  “Let us focus on more important matters.”