Dark Hearts
© HonorH
This fanfic takes place near the end of Xena: Warrior Princess season 3. It also refers to the events described in the Highlander episodes "Comes a Horseman" and "Revelation 6:8."
He awoke in a cold sweat.
The dream had been too vivid. Fire, blood, the screams of men, women, and children—all because of him. He knew this dreamscape well by now. It had been his for centuries.
He reached for the water by his bedside, gulped it down. Looking up, he saw in the dim light the bust of Pallas Athena he kept in his chamber.
"Will it never end?" he whispered into the night.
She awoke in a cold sweat.
Her dream had been all too vivid. Fire, blood, screams—all because of her. She knew the dreamscape well, for she had traveled it for over a decade.
Her questing hand found a waterskin. She sat up, uncorked it, and swallowed nearly half its contents. Glancing down, she saw the face of her companion, peaceful in the reddish glow of their dying fire. She envied that peace.
"Will it ever end?" she whispered into the night.
The marketplace in Corinth was busy that morning. The streets were choked with people, animals, and vending booths.
Two women and a horse were slowly making their way through the chaos toward the local smithy. Both were striking, as well as strikingly dissimilar. One was taller than most men, dark haired, blue eyed, and wearing the armor, weapons, and attitude of a seasoned warrior. The other was tiny, scarcely taller than a child, with strawberry blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a sunny disposition. Her clothing marked her as an Amazon and she carried a warstaff, but at the moment, her attitude was anything but combative.
"Isn’t this great?" she asked the taller woman.
"What part? The noise? The dust? The smell?" The woman’s voice was sardonic, but with an undertone that was almost affectionate. Her companion gave her an indulgent look.
"The humanity! The sheer, exuberant life. One of these days, Xena, you’ll learn to appreciate this."
Xena cocked an eyebrow at her friend. "I’ll consider myself warned. Right now, though, Argo needs a new set of shoes."
"And we need some supplies," the younger woman added. "Why don’t I go shopping while you get Argo shoed? Unless, of course, you’d like to shop." She grinned.
Xena grimaced. Shopping was not one of her favorite activities. "Much as I’d love to, Gabrielle, I think I’ll pass this time. How about we meet at that tavern" she indicated a building across the square "around midday for lunch?"
"Sound good," Gabrielle agreed. "Hey, how about we catch a play tonight?"
Xena fought to keep the distaste out of her face. Plays were all the way up there with shopping, in her opinion. Just—sitting there for two or three hours while people in masks talked and staged mock battles was enough to make her want to scream "Kill ‘em all!"
Gabrielle wasn’t going to be put off easily, though. "Please? It’s Aristophanes’s latest comedy, and you know we could both use a laugh." She gave Xena her most appealing puppy-dog smile, the one she only used when absolutely necessary.
Xena caved. They’d been through a lot lately, and there had been a few times when she’d doubted she would ever see her friend smile again. If sitting through a play was the price of hearing Gabrielle laugh, so be it.
"All right, we’ll see the play. But you owe me big."
Gabrielle bounced, clapping her hands like a child. "I knew I’d get you to see things my way. You’ll love it—I promise."
"I’m sure," Xena returned. "See you at midday. Don’t be late."
"Hey, it’s a meal. I’m never late for one of those." Gabrielle grinned and turned back into the bustling marketplace. Xena shook her head with a grin of her own, then began making her way to the smithy.
A little while later, Gabrielle, carrying a basket full of bread, cheese, a few eggs, and assorted pieces of fruit, stopped at a display of various bolts of cloth. She fingered some soft brown cotton.
Xena could use a new chemise, she thought. That old one’s getting threadbare, and it practically walks to the river by itself on laundry days—her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of a scuffle nearby. She set her basket down and followed the sound, all senses alert, warstaff at the ready.
In a nearby alley, two large men appeared to be roughing up a smaller one.
"Hey, boys," she called, "can I play, too?" The larger of the two ruffians came lunging at her. A quick jab to the belly and whack to the head and he was down. The other charged at her with a knife. She deflected the knife with her staff and whirled so that she was between the ruffians and the smaller man, facing her two opponents . . .
. . . and suddenly, an acrid-smelling cloth was over her mouth and nose, and the world was turning purple . . .
Xena came out of the smithy with a look of mild disgust on her face. She should have taken Gabrielle with her, she thought. Gabrielle could always talk sense into people setting prices. Xena had had to resort to a neck pinch in order to get the blacksmith to agree to a price that wasn’t highway robbery.
"Well, that wasn’t fun," she muttered darkly. Argo snorted her agreement. "Let’s get you stabled, girl, and find Gabrielle. I’m hungry."
It was a little past midday when Xena entered the tavern. She looked around for Gabrielle, but couldn’t find her. Xena frowned. She’d expected Gabrielle to be waiting impatiently, possibly halfway through her meal by now.
She walked over to the bar and flagged the barkeep. "Have you seen a young woman? Reddish hair, green eyes, skimpy outfit, big stick?"
The barkeep looked mystified. Xena’s frown deepened, and a bad feeling set in. She walked out of the tavern. She stared into the crowds, eyes missing nothing, looking for any sign of her friend.
Suddenly, there was a presence at her elbow. Xena looked down into the eyes of a young boy.
"Are you Xena, the Warrior Princess?" he asked.
"Yes." Her tone was guarded.
The boy handed her a piece of parchment. "A gentleman paid me to give this to you."
Xena’s bad feeling took a turn for the worse. She forced herself to look at the writing.
"Xena,"You’re probably wondering what’s happened to your friend. Don’t worry, she’s perfectly safe. Gabrielle is going to be my honored guest while you do something for me.
"About a day’s ride east of Corinth is a Temple of Athena. It’s rather well hidden between two hills, but I feel confident it won’t be too hard for you to find. Inside is a man named Methos. I want you to bring him to me by any means necessary.
"I have no quarrel with you, Xena, or with your friend, but I do have one with Methos. Unfortunately, while he is in the temple, I can do nothing to him. That’s why I need you. Methos is a very dangerous man, and I need someone with your . . . skills, shall we say, to bring him to me. He’ll know precisely who I am and where I am.
"As I said, Gabrielle is my honored guest. However, in ten days, she will have outstayed her welcome, and neither of us wants that. Give me Methos, and I give you Gabrielle."
Xena growled softly, a storm in her face. As it turned out, she knew precisely what temple the writer spoke of. In the short time between making her resolve to change her warlord ways and her first meeting with Gabrielle, she had stopped there to make an offering. It had been a rare pious moment for her, for Athena was just about the only god she had any respect for. She had asked for wisdom to know right from wrong, and then she had met Gabrielle. Xena had always wondered if there was a connection.
Now, it seemed, that temple was her only clue as to Gabrielle’s whereabouts. No doubt the "gentleman" who had paid to have the message delivered was long gone by now, and who knew how long ago Gabrielle had been taken. And trying to track people leaving a city like Corinth was like trying to follow a single drop of water in a river. Xena glanced back down at the name in the letter.
"Methos," she murmured, and spun on her heel, heading back to where she’d stabled Argo.
Xena pulled Argo to a halt outside the temple. It was small, but quite beautiful, just as she’d remembered. Xena dismounted and looped the reins over the pommel.
"Wait here, girl," she commanded the horse.
She strode up the stone stairs and through the open doors. A young novice stopped abruptly, dropping some scrolls, and stared at her.
"I’m looking for a man named Methos. Do you know where I might find him?" she asked the youth.
"Methos?" he sputtered, eyes growing huge. "Y-you want to find Methos?"
"That’s what I said," Xena stated frostily, giving him the mildest of her "looks."
The young man paled. "Uhh . . . down that hall is his chamber. But he may be in the archive. That’s the building behind this one. H-he’s probably there at this hour. That or he’s eating . . ."
He probably would have kept babbling if Xena hadn’t turned and walked out. She led Argo to the adjacent building, then walked in. The archive wasn’t huge, but it was filled top to bottom with scrolls. Xena focused on a dark haired man sitting in the far corner studying a scroll, his back to her.
"I’m looking for a man named Methos," she announced.
"Well, you’ve found him," the man answered without turning around. His voice was cultured and rich, with a sardonic edge to it.
Xena was annoyed. "My name is Xena, and I’ve been sent to fetch you for someone."
The apparent Methos chuckled lightly, still not turning around. "And who might you be fetching me for? Who has the Warrior Princess running errands?"
"I haven’t a clue, actually, and I’m not ‘running errands.’ Someone kidnapped my friend and wants you in exchange for her. And if it’s a choice between her and whoever in Tartarus you are, she wins." Xena strode forward, drawing her sword.
"Oh dear, she’s drawn her sword," Methos said, not sounding even slightly worried. "Whatever shall I do?" He stood up languidly, then turned to face her.
She stopped her advance, taking him in. He was slightly taller than she, with a lean build she could tell was pure muscle, even under his loose clothing. His face was not conventionally handsome, but it was aristocratic and finely chiseled. His eyes were hazel but almost opaque, and she saw a flinty hardness in them she knew well. Taken together, he was an intriguing—and not unattractive—package. He also had a sword slung at his side.
"You might as well put that away, Xena. You can’t kill me with it. I’m Immortal, you see." His voice betrayed no fear.
Xena sheathed her sword. "You’re going to help me find Gabrielle one way or the other, Methos. Immortal or not, I can cause you a lot of pain."
Methos sighed. "I’m not leaving this temple," he stated flatly. "I want only to be left alone, and leaving holy ground means I won’t be. I’m sure a woman of your many skills can find a new friend. Good day." He started to turn back around.
Xena glowered. Just who did this arrogant son of a Bacchae think he was? "I don’t want a new friend, Methos. I like this one just the way she is. Alive."
"Sorry, can’t help."
"Tell me, are you the sort of immortal who can’t be hurt at all, or the sort of immortal who just doesn’t stay dead for long?" Xena asked.
"Death just doesn’t seem to take," he answered, and turned marginally to face her. That was all she needed. Her fingers shot out like cobras, striking pressure points on either side of his neck.
"I just cut off the flow of blood to your brain. You’ll be dead in thirty seconds, but I don’t suppose that worries you." She watched as his knees buckled.
He actually smiled at her. "Clever. Very clever," he gasped, then fell dead to the floor.
Methos sucked in a painful breath, trying to clear the buzzing from his head. From the smell and feel of things, he realized he was in the forest surrounding the temple. He was having a hard time deciding if he was still all there when he heard a contralto voice somewhere above him.
"Good morning, sunshine," it said. "Have a nice nap?"
He opened his eyes and tried to move, only to find he couldn’t. This alarmed him until he realized he was just very securely hog-tied.
"Ye gods on Mount Olympus," he muttered. A booted foot appeared in front of his nose. He strained to look up.
Xena hunched down in front of him. "You have two choices, Methos," she explained. "You can willingly help me find Gabrielle, and I’ll help you deal with whoever’s taken her. Alternatively, I start cutting off body parts until you give me the information I need, and then I drag you behind Argo right up to your enemy’s doorstep. Your call."
Methos gazed long into those crystal blue eyes. They brooked no compromise.
"I can see why whoever it was chose you to deliver his message. You’re . . . most persuasive," he said at last. "Suppose you tell me what you know? And perhaps let me get into a more comfortable position, if you please."
He felt the rope connecting his hands and feet being loosened and untied. Xena then lifted him into a sitting position, with his hands still tied behind his back. She sat down on a fallen log opposite him, chakram in hand, and showed him the parchment.
His expression clouded over. "Korynas." She heard bitterness behind his voice. "It has to be Korynas."
"Who’s he?" The question was abrupt.
"An old friend." Methos’s voice was sarcastic. "He wants me to come over for tea."
"I don’t find this funny," Xena growled.
"I happen to think it’s just peachy," Methos spat.
Xena’s control cracked, and her hand whipped across his face, knocking him over. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and fixed him with the deadliest of her glares. "Listen, you," she seethed, "if anything happens to Gabrielle because of this game you’re playing, you’ll regret it for eternity. Understand?"
Her glare was met by an equally unflinching stare. "Actually, Xena, it is a game. The Game. And you and your friend are no more than pawns."
She set him down. "Tell me," she commanded.
Methos sighed. "My kind are Immortals, as I’ve told you. We can’t be killed unless we lose our heads. If one of my kind takes another’s head, he or she receives power from it, called the Quickening. The more heads you take, the more powerful you become. We’re safe only on holy ground. In the end, as it is said, there can be only one."
Xena looked nonplused. "So this is someone’s idea of calling you out?"
"With Korynas, it’s more than that. He has a personal grudge against me."
"Tell me," she commanded again.
"I don’t want to," he said, and she saw a sudden crack in his composure.
"If you don’t, I use my chakram to take off your head, and the whole matter becomes academic, doesn’t it?"
"Then your friend dies," he shot back.
"She dies if I don’t know what I’m up against, Methos. You can save your own life, though. Tell me."
She watched as a strange fire took its place in his eyes. Something in that expression reminded her of herself.
"Have you ever heard of the Four Horsemen, Xena?" His voice was cold.
Despite herself, Xena flinched. "Heard of them? I did my best to imitate them for several years. Even now, grown men tremble at their mention."
"Right," he said dully. "What not everyone knows is their names. Kronos, Caspian, Silas . . . and Methos."
Xena pulled back. "You?" she breathed, disgust in her face.
Methos seemed irritated. "Making moral judgments, Destroyer of Nations? I heard about the swath you and your buddies cut from Greece to the Kingdom of Chin. Believe me, it would have done the Horsemen proud."
It was too true for Xena’s comfort. "I suppose this Korynas took exception to you?" she finally asked.
"Yes," Methos stated. "We tore through his homeland, killing everything in our path. He didn’t even know he was an Immortal until I killed him. His wife, his people, everything he loved was dead, and he was left alone, not knowing what had happened or why he had lived." Methos sighed again, looking away. "He eventually found someone to teach him about what he was. He also swore blood vengeance on whoever killed his wife."
"You?" Xena asked. Methos nodded. "How did he know your name?"
Methos locked eyes with her. "Because I told him. I killed the woman, then looked him straight in the eye and told him to remember my name. Then I ran him through." He smiled grimly. "Not too smart, eh?"
"I’d say it’s time to clean up the mess you made," Xena said.
Methos leaned forward suddenly, a new emotion—grief?--lacing his expression. "I’m done cleaning up, Xena. I’ve tried for centuries to redeem myself, and I’ve paid for my sins in the dearest way I know. Nothing you can do to me would hurt worse."
"Wanna bet?" she snarled. "I need you to help me find Gabrielle and I’ll get your cooperation any way I have to."
"You’ll just have to make do without her, then. I can’t help."
"I can’t ‘make do’ without her!" Xena shouted, jumping to her feet. Then she pulled back, breathing deeply. "Gabrielle came to me when I most needed someone to believe in me. My past doesn’t matter to her. She accepts me completely, and I need that more than anything. When I would have given up my fight for redemption, she kept me going. I don’t want to go on fighting without her by my side. But I don’t suppose you would understand that!" She turned away, fighting for control.
The clearing was silent for a long time. Then the silence was broken by Methos’s voice.
"Untie me, Xena."
She turned and stared, surprised by the sudden gentleness in his voice. His eyes met hers, and she couldn’t name the emotion there.
"Untie me," he repeated. "I’ll help you find your friend."
Gabrielle floated upward through a thick haze. Voices, light, a thousand pins pricking her skin. She needed to speak, to tell someone she was in trouble. All she could make was a hoarse moan.
An arm went around her shoulders, lifting them. "Drink," a voice commanded, and something cold and wet was at her lips. Her mouth was terribly dry, and she did her best to obey.
After a time—she didn’t know how long—the haze lifted, and she found herself staring at a high, arched ceiling. She tried to turn her head, but found her neck terribly stiff. Despite herself, she moaned again. A face appeared in front of hers. She focused on it as best she could, but it was no easy task since her eyes protested having to move. It was a man’s face, strong-boned and handsome, with clear brown eyes and crowned with dark hair.
"Hello, Gabrielle," he said, and his voice was pleasant and cultured. "How are you feeling?"
"Who are you?" she groaned.
The man tsked. "Not polite to answer a question with a question, my dear. However, since you asked—and since I do seem to have you at somewhat of a disadvantage here—my name is Korynas. You’re at my keep. Now, once again—how do you feel?"
"Like I’ve been dead a week," she answered, her voice hoarse. She sat up, and the world spun.
"This will help." He offered her an earthenware cup. She sniffed the contents. It smelled like a concoction Xena had made for her one morning after Gabrielle had had a little too much ale the previous night. Gabrielle eyed Korynas for a moment, then decided being dead would be infinitely preferable to her current state of being. She gulped the concoction down.
Korynas looked pleased as he took the cup from her. "The ingredients in my sleep potion often leave the recipient feeling out of sorts, and I had to have my men give you a double dose to make certain you stayed out for the journey. I do apologize for your discomfort. Believe me, I would have preferred to avoid such unpleasantness."
"Why did you kidnap me?" Gabrielle demanded. Her headache was beginning to recede, thankfully, but she was still in no mood for Korynas’s high-minded politeness. Gabrielle preferred a straight fight to maneuverings couched in courtesy. "If you expect Xena to bend over and—"
"My dear Gabrielle," Korynas interrupted, "I expect that in a few days, you’ll be thanking me for my hospitality and promising to visit again as you and your Xena ride out of my keep." Gabrielle squinted at him like he was some sort of bug. It didn’t seem to bother him. "Are you hungry yet? It’s been close to two days since you’ve eaten."
"Huh?" was the best comment she could think up at the moment. Still, as her headache continued to clear, she began to feel distinct rumblings in her belly. Korynas offered her his hand.
"My sleeping potion kept you out for the journey here from Corinth. It’s a two-day trip by horseback. If you’re hungry, I have a meal laid out."
Gabrielle thought back to Xena’s many lectures on keeping one’s strength up. "Unless you suspect the food is poisoned or drugged while you’re a captive, eat. Otherwise, you won’t be able to help yourself when the time comes to escape," she would say. Gabrielle reluctantly took Korynas’s hand, then realized something else had changed. Specifically, her clothes.
Rather than the Amazon top and skirt she wore for traveling, she was wearing a fine gown of peach-colored silk. There were bracelets on her arms, and she felt a necklace as well. Puzzled, she looked at Korynas. He shrugged.
"I had all this fine ladies’ clothing and no lady to wear it. I thought you might appreciate a little finery, seeing as you are a queen."
"Amazon queens usually wear leather and brass," Gabrielle countered, a little uneasy at what he seemed to know about her. Korynas shrugged again, then helped her to her feet and led her over to a table laid with a sumptuous meal.
After Gabrielle had eaten her fill, she decided to try for information again. "I still don’t understand why you kidnapped me. Is it to get at Xena?"
Korynas folded his napkin, seemingly reluctant to meet her gaze. "Yes and no. I have no grudge against Xena. I don’t want to hurt her, but I do need her to do something for me."
"And you couldn’t just ask?"
"I thought she might be reluctant to help me once she found out what the task was." Korynas raised his eyes to Gabrielle’s.
"What’s the task?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
Korynas hesitated, briefly averting his eyes. When they met Gabrielle’s again, they were cold and dark.
"Xena’s task is to bring someone to me . . . so I can kill him."
Xena opened her eyes. She generally woke early (much to Gabrielle’s dismay), and this morning was no exception. Glancing across at where Methos had slept, though, she saw . . . nothing.
She sat up, senses alert. Had he decided to leave during the night? She heard the sound of light splashing coming from the river, and, curious, began making her way down.
Methos was, indeed, kneeling by the river. His white shirt and black leather jerkin laid in a bundle beside him, and he appeared to be washing his face. Xena studied his build. He was muscular, but long and lean, built for speed and finesse rather than raw power. Like a dancer, she thought. Suddenly, he turned, half-rising and clutching his sword. Seeing her, he relaxed slightly.
"What’s that look for?" he asked.
"What look?"
"You look like you’re appraising a piece of horseflesh for purchase. Want to see my teeth?"
Xena grinned in spite of herself. "Sorry. Old habit. I used to run an army, remember? I had to appraise a lot of manflesh wanting to join it." She tied back her hair and knelt down to wash her own face.
Methos glanced up at the clear morning sky. He began to buckle on his jerkin, leaving off the shirt. "At the rate you travel, we ought to be at Korynas’s keep in two days." Xena heard the tension in his voice, slight as it was.
"Do you think he’ll keep his word and release Gabrielle?" she asked.
The Immortal nodded. "He is a man of his word, so far as I know. Besides, he has no grudge against you—yet." Xena’s mouth quirked. Then, suddenly, she grew rigid, staring at the water.
"What is it?" Methos whispered, hand on his sword. She didn’t answer. Then, with blinding speed, her hands shot into the water and produced . . . a fish.
"Sweet Athena!" said Methos.
"Blork!" said the fish.
"Breakfast!" said Xena.
Gabrielle sat, impatient, as one of Korynas’s maidservants worked on her hair. Today her silks were blue, and she wore a new assortment of jewelry. Korynas had kept his word to treat her as an honored guest, but that didn’t change the fact that she was also an unwilling guest.
Her talk with Korynas the previous day had not gone well. She now knew about Immortals in general and Methos in particular, and she didn’t like the whole situation one bit. The bard had always—always—been one to give people second chances. If Methos was really a bloodthirsty warlord, why had he stayed in a Temple of Athena for a century? And if Korynas was as peace-loving as he claimed, why in Tartarus would he live in a heavily fortified keep? Besides, how could he be so confident he could take Methos’s head if he hadn’t already taken quite a few heads already?
Gabrielle shook her head, eliciting a squawk of protest from the maid. Revenge always led to ugly things happening. She understood that Korynas was in pain, and felt bad for him, but nothing good could come from this.
Oh, well, she thought, sighing. At least I seem safe for now, and no one can take care of herself quite as well as Xena. I’m sure she’ll be fine.
Methos’s sword swung down, stopping barely a finger’s breadth away from Xena’s neck.
"Give?" he asked, breathing hard.
"Give," she agreed, thoroughly winded. The sword lowered away from her throat, and she pushed herself to her feet.
"You’re really quite good," Methos commented approvingly. "Most mortals wouldn’t last five seconds against an Immortal."
Xena nodded, appreciating his words even though they didn’t quite soothe the indignity at having thoroughly lost four out of the last five sparring matches. The one she had won had been sheer luck, too—the Immortal had stepped on a loose stone and lost his balance.
"Are all of you this good?" she asked, hoping the answer wouldn’t be yes.
Methos shrugged. "Abilities vary, but most Immortals are far better than even the best mortal swordsmen—or swordswomen. A very new Immortal would have a hard time against you, though."
"A new Immortal? You mean you’re not born Immortal?" Xena was starting to feel like Gabrielle, having so many questions.
"Yes and no. One can be a pre-Immortal—or, as I prefer, a latent Immortal—for many years. There’s one of them at the temple, as a matter of fact. A young novice."
"Kind of nervous?" Xena asked. Methos nodded. "I think I startled him."
The Immortal laughed. "That would definitely be David. As I was saying, there’s not much to separate a latent Immortal from a mortal. They get sick, their wounds don’t heal appreciably quicker than anyone else’s, and they age. They can’t sense other Immortals, either, though some full Immortals can sense latent ones. An Immortal’s full powers are activated the first time he or she dies. From then on, they never age, and they become part of the Game." He sheathed his sword and helped Xena get the last of her gear packed in Argo’s saddlebags. "Thanks for the sparring, by the way."
The woman-warrior grinned in spite of her bruised dignity. "Thank you. It’s been awhile since I’ve been beaten quite that badly, and I was in danger of getting a fat head."
Methos laughed again. "Ready to move on?"
For an answer, Xena mounted. She offered Methos a hand, he mounted behind her, and they began moving away from their campsite.
That day, and the next, passed fairly comfortably for both pairs, Xena and Methos, and Gabrielle and Korynas. Methos didn’t mind the speed at which Xena decided to travel, and she was glad to be able to question him about Korynas in particular and Immortals in general. What Methos knew about Korynas, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Methos had kept loose tabs on the other Immortal ever since he found out how close he had settled. Korynas had sent several other mercenaries, who—unsuccessfully—tried to get the former Horseman off holy ground. The consequences had been deadly for a few. "Some way to live in peace, eh?" Methos commented.
Gabrielle, meanwhile, did a little information-gathering of her own. She was quite successful at getting Korynas to tell her all about himself. Unfortunately, she was less successful at persuading him to give up his vendetta against Methos. Using her bardic skills, she told stories of the Warrior Princess who had been, and what she had become. Korynas, though, would not be persuaded.
At dinner the fourth day of her captivity, the bard tried again. "How can you know that two centuries hasn’t changed him?" she asked. "That’s more than any mortal lifetime."
Korynas looked at her. "You have a generous nature, Gabrielle. But you have to remember that we have more than any mortal lifetime. Your friend Xena was a warlord for what? Five, ten years? Methos and the Horsemen murdered and pillaged for almost one thousand years. Murder is as natural for him as breathing."
"Someone once told me something very similar about Xena," Gabrielle countered, remembering Ming T’ien. "He was wrong about her. You could be wrong. This Methos has tried to live in peace. Can’t you do the same? Forget the anger. Move on." Her voice was passionate.
Korynas gazed at her for a long time, then smiled sadly. "It’s too bad I didn’t meet you sooner, Gabrielle. I might have been a better man. No, I can’t forget what Methos did, and I can’t forgive, either. One way or another, this will soon be settled." He dropped his cloth napkin on the table, then added, almost acidly, "After all, there can be only one."
A campfire burned low in the woods. On one side was a man, on the other, a woman, both in the grips of nightmares. Suddenly, both awakened, staring wildly into the night. Xena grabbed her sword instinctively. Then she set it back down and reached for a waterskin instead.
"Bad dream?" asked Methos, voice husky. Xena nodded.
"Same with you?" she asked. She needed no answer. She passed him the waterskin, and he drank gratefully. Both laid back down.
"Methos?" Xena asked after a moment.
"Yes?"
"Why are you doing this? Helping me?" A long silence followed.
"There was . . . someone once who believed in me," said the Immortal slowly.
"Tell me." Xena’s voice was gentle. Another long silence.
"Her name was Leda. I met her a little over a century after I left the Horsemen. At that time, I was still getting used to life as a human being again. I’d . . . forgotten for awhile." He paused, then continued. "She was lovely—soft brown hair and gray eyes. Her father was an armorer, and I stopped by his shop to get a new sword made. The one I’d worn as a Horseman had too many memories attached to it.
"Whenever I dropped by, she would make it a point to speak to me. I realized she had taken a liking to me, and I didn’t think I wanted anyone so young and innocent keeping company with someone like myself. After the sword was finished—the same sword I carry now, as a matter of fact—I resolved to move on.
"I wasn’t very far out of town when I heard a woman screaming. I ran to help, and when I realized it was Leda being attacked by a bunch of young thugs, I went mad with rage. They were dead within minutes. I remember looking at her, seeing the shock in her face as the men lay dead at my feet. But then, she just threw herself into my arms, sobbing and thanking me for saving her."
Methos swallowed hard. This was more difficult than he had thought it would be, and that was bad enough. "I couldn’t believe she would still have any regard for me after what I had done. More than that, I didn’t want her to. I pushed her away, told her I’d done worse. Told her about the Horsemen."
He could see it clearly in his mind. She, standing there, clothing torn, tears streaking her face. He, with a bloody sword in his hand. "This is what I am, Leda," he had told her. All she did was shake her head. "No," she had said, "no, I’ve seen what you are. It’s in your eyes every time you look at me. It’s in the patience you show to that old man who always bends your ear in the tavern. It’s in the way you helped dig the new well, and in the way you just saved me. You may be a little more than most men, Methos, but you are a good man. In your heart, you are. I see it, even if you don’t."
The memory faded, and Methos smiled a little. "She may have been young and naïve, but I guess . . . I wanted her to be right about me. Leda and I were married a little while later. We moved to a little town not far from Corinth and settled there. For a time, we were happy."
"What happened?" Again, Xena’s tone was gentle.
"Korynas." The bitterness was back in Methos’s tone. "Somehow, he found out I was still alive. He came after me in the cruelest way he knew."
Methos had heard the horses before he felt Korynas’s presence. There were four horses. Three carried Korynas’s men, and the fourth, the pale one, like the one Methos used to ride, carried Korynas himself. Methos and Leda had been on a picnic just a little way from town, and Methos had decided against carrying his sword that day. Korynas’ three guards leapt down and subdued Methos—not easily, to be sure—and Korynas himself held a sword to Leda.
"I remember your name, Methos," he had said. Then he ran his sword through Leda’s heart. Methos heard his own scream as she fell to the ground, dead. The younger Immortal then walked over to the former Horseman.
"Now you’ll remember my name—Korynas." With that, he stabbed Methos through the heart.
Silence held the campsite as Xena digested what Methos had just told her. "I’m sorry, Methos," she whispered. "I . . . understand now."
The Immortal spoke again. "I never took revenge because I knew Leda wouldn’t have wanted me to. Instead, I went to the temple. I thought reading and archiving some ancient texts might help me get perspective. I was wrong. I still don’t understand why I did what I did, or why Leda had to die for it."
Xena smiled softly, sadly in the light of the fading campfire. "Then I guess there’s not much hope for me. How far back do your memories go, Methos?"
Methos sighed deeply, thinking. "I don’t remember much before I was ‘killed’ the first time, and that was nearly three thousand years ago. I do remember my teacher, though. She’s the first person I ever remember loving." He shook his head. "I don’t even want to think of what she must think of me now."
"You can change, Methos. You have changed," Xena reassured him. "Leda saw something in you to love, just as Gabrielle did for me; that’s what’s really important."
"There’s just so much I’ve done. So many horrible things I’ll never forget, or forgive myself for." The pain was raw in his voice. Xena suddenly understood why he seemed so different now than when she had first met him. His acid humor, his arrogance, all served to mask his pain from the world. That, at least, she understood. She turned a little to look at him.
"When I was riding with Borias, my lover who I cut my swath into Chin with, we used to trade off on the reputation of the Horsemen to inspire fear. I have to say—it worked well for us."
Methos looked at her, saw the empathy in her eyes, and smiled. "Don’t worry," he said, "I won’t tell anyone." She smiled back, and both settled down to try and get some more sleep before morning.
Something had changed in Korynas over the past few days. He had, originally, truly meant to let Gabrielle go once Xena brought him Methos. Now, though, he knew he couldn’t.
He had fallen in love.
Gabrielle’s warmth, her faith in humanity, her sweetness, had made him feel something he hadn’t felt for eight hundred years and more. And it was so simple—so blindingly simple—to keep her with him, he realized. When this was all over, the world would have two fewer ex-warlords, and Korynas would have a wife again. It would all be so simple.
He heard her enter the room and paused to admire her. Today she was wearing a leaf green silk halter and a matching skirt which fluttered gently to the floor. The pale, firm expanse of her belly was left open to the air and his admiring eyes. Emeralds glinted at her ears, throat, and both wrists.
"Arabian silk becomes you," he told her. She looked a little embarrassed.
"Sorry I’m so late for breakfast," she apologized. "That maid you assigned me wouldn’t stop fussing with my hair."
Korynas smiled gallantly. "When the results are so lovely, how can I object?" Gabrielle walked over to the window and looked out. The Immortal’s eyes moved to the perfect curve of her back. "I think, unless I’m mistaken, that we will see Methos and your friend today."
The bard turned her green-eyed gaze back to him. "Do you think so? I’ll be glad to see Xena again, even though your hospitality has been—generous."
The Immortal smiled with satisfaction. "I hoped you would find it so. Yes, I think Xena will show today, if I read her character right. I just hope . . ." he trailed off.
"What?" Gabrielle prompted.
"I just hope," he continued, sounding reluctant, "that Methos hasn’t harmed your friend. I’d hate to think that this scheme of mine could end with you getting hurt. If I had known more about you, Gabrielle, I would never have involved you in this."
Gabrielle nodded, looking pensive. "Xena has survived things that would kill any ordinary mortal. She’ll be all right."
"I hope so, my dear. For your sake."
Something was wrong. Gabrielle’s intuition was screaming at her.
Not that Korynas had threatened her in any way. Quite the contrary, he had been the perfect host. It was just . . . the way he looked at her. It had changed over the past few days. There was something more in his eyes now. He touched her whenever possible, too. Not in any way she could object to, but something just seemed . . . wrong.
Xena had always told her to "listen to your gut. If something feels wrong, it usually is. If you feel fear, it’s probably for a good reason. Don’t suppress fear—act on it. Do what it tells you."
Right now, Gabrielle’s feeling was that she should continue acting like she wasn’t worried at all. Don’t let him know you’re aware anything’s changed, she thought. She smiled at Korynas and joined him for breakfast.
Argo rounded one last curve, and Methos pointed up at the hillside.
"There," he said, "that’s Korynas’s keep." Xena nodded.
"What do you want to do?" she asked.
The Immortal shook his head. "This is my fight, Xena. It’s one I should have ended long ago, before any more innocent people got hurt. I’ll face Korynas."
"And if he fights dirty?"
Methos chuckled. "I think you can handle that."
Xena’s smile was feral. "I think I can."
"My Lord!" One of Korynas’s guards came running into the breakfast room. "My Lord, the woman-warrior has been spotted by our lookouts."
The Immortal stood. "Does she have someone with her?" he demanded.
"The lookout says it looks like there are two people in the saddle, My Lord."
Korynas smiled grimly. "Good. Tell the lookout to keep an eye on them." He turned back to Gabrielle. "Your friend comes at last, my dear. Soon you’ll be leaving. I promise."
Gabrielle nodded, but the alarm bells inside her mind were louder than ever. "May I meet her when she arrives?" the bard asked. Korynas seemed to consider this for a moment, then shook his head.
"No, I don’t think that’s wise. As I said before, Methos is a dangerous man. I don’t want you anywhere near him. In fact, I think it would be best if you waited in a secure room, just in case. Come." He held out a hand to her. After a moment’s hesitation, Gabrielle took it.
He led her up a stone staircase to an isolated room in the tower. "You’ll be safe enough here," he told her. "Immortal duels can be dangerous things. I’ll post a guard in case anything happens to me." He started to leave, but Gabrielle grabbed his arm.
"Listen, Korynas . . ." She paused. "Try settling this without swords. Please."
The Immortal stared into her eyes for a long moment, then smiled gently. "Gabrielle, I think you’re worried about me."
"I am," she insisted. "I don’t like this one bit, and I don’t want anyone getting killed. Just be careful, okay?"
Her concern gratified Korynas. "I will be careful, my dear. Thinking of you will help me keep my head on my shoulders." He lifted her hand and kissed it, lingering a moment, then turned and left, locking the door behind him.
Generally, Xena liked the direct approach. She remembered busting into Caesar’s private lair just a few months ago, savoring the looks on his and Pompey’s faces as she walked in like she owned the place. Still, riding directly into a fortified keep with who knew how many guards and with an enemy of its owner sitting right behind her was a bit much, even for the Warrior Princess.
"You’re sure about this?" she asked the ancient Immortal.
"No, but it is our best chance—and Gabrielle’s," he answered.
They dismounted at the gates, which swung open, confirming Xena’s suspicion they had been watched the entire way up the hill. Equally predictably, a small company of guardsmen was waiting for them inside the courtyard. The captain addressed the Warrior Princess.
"My Lord asks that you join him in his grand hall," he said. "However, your weapons, Xena, must be left with my men. He" indicating Methos "will be allowed to keep his sword."
"How generous." Methos’s voice held the same sarcastic tone he had first addressed Xena with. "For a moment there, I was afraid I would have to swordfight with my bare hands."
Xena relinquished her sword and chakram rather more easily than the guards had anticipated, and she and the Immortal were led inside.
High up in the keep, Gabrielle knew her suspicions were correct. Korynas had no intention of releasing her. Being put in this room was the last straw. If he was so concerned, why would she be the only one up here? Why not at least put the servants and maids where they would be "safe?"
Fortunately, those selfsame maids had left her with the means to escape, Gabrielle thought as she jammed two hairpins into the lock on the door.
"If this works, Autolycus," she murmured, "I owe you one."
After working up more than a slight sweat, Gabrielle felt the lock give way. She swung open the door—
--and came face to face with the guard who was supposed to "protect" her. He hesitated, worried about how his master would react if he harmed her. Gabrielle didn’t give him time to think. She grabbed his spear and used it to give him a smashing blow to the face, then yanked it away from him and dispatched him with two neat blows from the butt end. The Amazon gave a dissatisfied look at the spearhead, then laid the spear on the floor, drew the guard’s sword, and used it to cut off the pointy end. Picking up her makeshift staff, she ran to find Xena.
Xena and Methos were ushered into Korynas’s grand hall by rather more guards than either thought necessary. Korynas stood on the raised dais at the far end.
"Methos." He said the name like it was a curse.
"Korynas." Methos’s voice was perfectly neutral, even polite. "How are you after all these years?"
Xena didn’t give Korynas time to answer. "Where’s Gabrielle?" she demanded.
"The lovely Gabrielle is quite safe, Warrior Princess. I find her enchanting company," he added. "In fact, she’s so enchanting, I find I don’t want to let her go."
"’Fraid that’s just too bad," Xena said, "because I’m taking her with me. We had a deal, remember?"
Korynas inclined his head. "Indeed I do. And normally, I’m a man of my word, but finding love isn’t something that happens every day. My opportunity here is just too great. Gabrielle will be told that you, Xena, were killed by Methos here, and that I killed Methos. She’ll be rather heartbroken, of course, but I’ll be there to . . . pick up the pieces. If all goes well, I will soon have a wife again." He seemed insufferably pleased with his plans. "To think, Methos old friend, that it was because of you I found her. I’m almost inclined to thank you."
"You’re quite welcome," said the former Horseman with a mocking bow. "If you’re through congratulating yourself, perhaps we could get on with this?"
"Of course. Guards—kill her" and two Immortal swordsmen swung into action.
Gabrielle raced down the corridors of the keep. She heard what sounded like a fight, paused for a moment to determine where the sound was coming from, and turned left at the next junction. Ahead of her, two guards stood in front of a barred door, and Xena’s sword and chakram were sitting beside them. They, like the other guards she had met, were reluctant to face her, and she took full advantage of their indecision. Both were down in seconds. Gabrielle looped Xena’s chakram over the hilt of her sword, unbarred the door (with some difficulty), and pushed it open.
Inside was a genuine fracas. Xena was fighting around a dozen guards with her fists, hidden daggers, and a few swords she’d appropriated from their fallen comrades. In the background, Gabrielle could see two men fighting. One was Korynas, and she assumed the other was Methos.
"Xena!" Gabrielle yelled, and heaved sword and chakram toward her. Xena caught them without missing a beat, and Gabrielle ran headlong into the melee.
"Thanks!" shouted Xena back. "You okay?"
"Just (oof!) fine. Like the clothes (whack!)?"
"Gorgeous. Did you know (thunk!) that that guy was planning on (wham!) keeping you here?"
"Figured it out." Gabrielle finished pasting one final guard, and Xena looked around to see if there were any more takers.
The sounds of the swordfight on the dais drew both their eyes. Xena couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Both fought with incredible grace and speed, but they were also both bleeding from myriad wounds, any one of which would have taken a mortal out of a fight. Suddenly, Korynas found an opening. He plunged his sword into Methos’s side. Methos’s sword came up to block the next blow from reaching his neck, but he staggered back. Korynas paused, admiring his handiwork.
"Ready to die?" the younger Immortal sneered.
Xena was puzzled by Methos’s reaction. He stood back, then lowered his sword into a purely defensive position. Korynas took up an attack position, but paused, as if waiting for Methos to make another move. The former Horseman stood stone-still. There was a moment of breathless silence. Then it was broken by Korynas’s bellow of rage. He swung his sword for Methos’s neck.
In that moment, while Korynas was completely involved with his attack, Methos acted. His sword swung up, seemingly of its own accord, opening Korynas’s belly, then blocking the blow that rapidly lost power as the younger Immortal fell.
Methos stood over Korynas. He glanced over at Xena, saw the small, golden-haired woman beside her. Then he looked back down.
"But for what you tried to do to them," he hissed, "I might have let you live." With that, his sword cleaved downward, striking Korynas’s head from its shoulders.
Gabrielle flinched, looked away. Xena felt the growing charge in the air and instinctively pushed Gabrielle down, shielding her friend’s body with her own. The warrior felt the charge tingling along her armor, then heard the beginnings of what sounded like a lightning storm. She glanced behind her, saw the haze surrounding Methos’s body, watched in fascination as bolt after bolt of lightning struck his body. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.
Xena took a moment to make certain Gabrielle was all right, then climbed onto the dais to check on Methos, who was kneeling, spent, by Korynas’s body. She reached out to him.
"Don’t touch me yet," the Immortal groaned. "It isn’t safe.
"Will you be all right?" asked the warrior.
Methos lifted his eyes, stared at Korynas’s body, and shook his head. "What a waste," he said, then struggled to his feet and walked quietly from the hall.
"Methos?"
The Immortal turned to see Gabrielle standing a tentative few feet behind him. She had changed back into her Amazon clothes and held her own warstaff. She smiled.
"I just wanted to thank you for helping Xena find me," she said, and moved to sit beside him on a fallen log.
"Well, your friend can be most . . . persuasive. I’m afraid I didn’t have much choice." His tone was dry, but there was warmth in his eyes.
"Nonsense," countered the bard. "I saw the way you fight. Even Xena admits that if you hadn’t wanted to come with her, you wouldn’t have had to. But you did anyway. Thank you."
Methos looked pensive, distracted. Gabrielle’s brow creased slightly. "Dinar for your thoughts?" she offered.
Methos stared into the bard’s warm green eyes for a long moment. She reminded him of Leda, of his teacher, of a lot of women he’d loved over the years. "I was just thinking about my teacher again," he finally said, then rose from the log and offered Gabrielle a hand up. Nearby stood Argo with Xena, and also a second, chestnut brown horse which Methos had taken from Korynas’s stables. The Immortal took its reins.
"Time for me to take my leave," he sighed.
"Where will you go?" asked the bard.
"Back to the temple to retrieve a few of the things I left behind when Xena persuaded me to accompany her. After that, I don’t know." The melancholy note was still in Methos’s voice.
Xena offered him her hand. "Take care of yourself, Methos." The Immortal took the offered hand, then raised it to his lips and dropped a light kiss on the warrior’s scarred knuckles.
"Xena, I leave with you the words my teacher told me to live my life by: ‘Live. Grow stronger. Fight another day.’" Xena smiled.
"Words to live by," she agreed wryly. Methos took Gabrielle’s hand and kissed it.
"Gabrielle, I leave you with an impossible task." He cocked his head at Xena. "Try to keep her out of trouble." Gabrielle laughed.
"You’re right. That is an impossible task."
Methos released the Amazon’s hand and mounted his horse. "Until we meet again, then," he called back over his shoulder, and then he was moving back toward the temple.
Xena and Gabrielle began making their way toward Corinth again. "So, we need to get some supplies and catch that play," mused Gabrielle.
"Not the play," ground out Xena.
"But you promised!" Gabrielle’s voice was one step short of a whine.
"Yeah, well, since I’ve got to shop with you now, the play’s out."
"You don’t have to shop with me!"
"Think I’m gonna leave you alone now?"
Gabrielle halted in her tracks. "C’mon, Xena, what are the odds of that happening twice?"
Xena gave her "the Look." "It already *has* happened twice. Remember Palaemon?"
"You going to hold that against me forever?"
"Not to mention Morpheus. And that thing with Autolycus on that slave ship . . ."
Methos pulled his horse to a halt outside the temple. Walking in, he waved off the questioning looks of various priests and made straight for his chamber. Entering, he nearly ran straight into David. The novice lost hold of the scrolls in his hands, and nearly lost control of his bladder as well.
"Ares, Artemis, and Athena!" he cried.
"I think you forgot Apollo and Aphrodite," Methos commented dryly. David leaned against the wall, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal.
"S-sir? Are you all right? They said (gulp!) the Warrior Princess kidnapped you!"
"As you can see, David, I’m fine. What are those scrolls you’re taking with you?" Methos picked one up.
David looked profoundly uncomfortable. "Well, sir, the chief priest said you were probably dead, so he told me to get the remaining scrolls from your room. I didn’t mean to intrude!" The kid looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel.
"Calm down, David, I won’t kill you." Methos walked over to the chest sitting beside his pallet and removed several cloth bundles from it. He was thinking about where he might go, and how lonely his life really was. He didn’t want to find a wife or even a lover again—the memory of Leda was still too fresh in his mind. But a friend . . . he thought about Xena and Gabrielle. Then he glanced over at David, who was quietly fretting. The kid would find out all too soon what he was, Methos realized.
"I’m going to be leaving the temple soon, David," the Immortal said at length. "Why don’t you come along?"
"M-me, sir? I-I-I don’t think I could. I mean, the chief priest would never allow it," the kid stammered.
"The chief priest knows that Athena likes her priests to have seen a bit of the world." Not to mention have grown a backbone, he added silently. "Tell you what. I’ll talk to the chief priest, you get some traveling clothes and supplies together, and we’ll leave tomorrow morning. Sound good to you?"
The nervous novice looked positively miserable. "Okay, sir. If you think so." He turned and shuffled away, still fretting. Methos couldn’t stifle a chuckle.
For the first time in a long while, his future looked interesting.
FINI