"If something happens out there and I don’t ... I don’t get back here," the warrior began haltingly. Enoch kept his eyes trained on the woman’s hesitant face. "If you would help my friend get back to ... wherever she wants to go?" the warrior stammered, suddenly unsettled by the emotions churning in her stomach. "If you could do that ...." the smooth voice wavered as the tall woman trained her eyes on her boots.

The blacksmith touched the warrior’s shoulder gently. "You can count on me, Xena," he told her, his brown eyes warm and compassionate. "But, that’s a little premature, isn’t it?" he said as the warrior met the soft, brown pools again. A playful smile curled across the man’s handsome face.

"You just be careful, do what you need to do and when you get back, we’ll have a nice, quiet supper." The smithy’s quiet smile widened. "Right?" The warrior’s face softened in a little smile as the blue eyes returned the smithy’s gaze. Finally, the tall form straightened and the golden face sobered again.

"Right," the smooth voice announced. She turned and mounted the palomino mare. Xena cast one final look down at the blacksmith’s confident smile, laid the reins on the horse’s neck and headed for the road to the clearing. ‘Right, Gabrielle,’ the leather-clad woman thought as she pressed her heels to the mare’s sides. ‘I did make you a promise, didn’t I?’ Xena leaned forward as Argo’s hooves pounded the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group of vagrants silently witnessed the tall woman’s arrival at the edge of the little clearing. They watched nervously as the warrior slid off the mare’s back, secured the reins to a tree limb and proceeded carefully toward the mouth of the cave. When the leather-clad figure disappeared through the opening, the men emerged from their leafy hiding places and converged on the same opening. One of the scowling thieves wordlessly motioned toward the others in the group as they quickly aligned themselves in a wide circle outside the cave.

Inside the cavern, Xena’s senses alerted her to the presence of the motley crew. She stood still for a moment, her sharp instincts determining their number and their relative positions. She silently drew her sword and slowly stepped back toward the entrance of the cave.

The warrior’s attention was quickly captured by the sound of the rocky trapdoor rattling across the floor behind her. She quickly turned around, ready to meet the challenge of whoever had engaged the appliance, her body vigilant and alert. When the stones stopped moving, the warrior’s focus remained locked on the granite facade ... until the voice behind her echoed against the earthen walls of the cave.

"Pretty inventive, isn’t it?" a raspy voice asked. Xena stiffened, then turned slowly toward the owner of the rough tones. She recognized Phantaos’ hard-featured face and her mouth curled in a repulsed scowl.

"Phantaos," the warrior growled. "Why am I not really surprised to see you in a hole with the other vermin who probably live here?" The pitted face glared in glee. He looped his gloved thumbs over the wide belt around his massive waist. "Gawl!" the ruffian barked and the second bully appeared in the middle of the secret opening. Xena glanced sideways at the other brute, stepping slowly to her right to place herself between the two bandits.

Phantaos stepped to the side of the cave’s entrance and bowed slightly, extending his arm toward the mouth of the shelter. He gave the warrior a complacent grin, then bent and moved through the opening. Xena threw a contemptuous glare at the second man, then followed Phantaos’ path, emerging outside into the afternoon light. The circle of highwaymen tightened around the warrior’s figure, all of the men armed and sporting uncompromising expressions.

"So, what do you have in mind, Phantaos?" Xena said to the smug leader. "All of them and me?" She leveled a challenge at the scarred face. "Or just you and your sword against me and mine?"

Phantaos’ smirk grew into a maddening grin. He swaggered nearer to the tall warrior. When they were an arm’s length apart, he turned away from her slightly and bent his head toward her in a sickeningly familiar manner. "Just one thing before I answer," he sniggered, turning to face the clearing more directly. He searched the area for a moment before he faced the warrior’s steady gaze again. "Who’s the kid?" Phantaos’ dark eyes met the warrior’s cobalt stare, then turned smugly toward the small figure a few leagues’ distance away from them.

Xena followed the bully’s gaze and her jaw stiffened when she recognized the compact form running toward them. The blue eyes darted to the dark pools of the criminal before returning to the familiar little body. She tried valiantly to submerge her pulsing concern.

"He’s just a boy from town. He must have followed me here. I told him I’d help him catch a wild colt that he fancies." She turned back to the brigand. "He’s just a kid from Almiros, that’s all."

Phantaos’ dark eyes grew hard and mean. "Get rid of him, or I’ll have Gawl put an arrow through his head." Xena saw the other bully pull the mechanism of his crossbow into place, the arrow trained directly at the small figure advancing toward them. She glared back at the glowering face. "You know I’ll do it, don’t you?" He held the blue eyes calmly. One of the men pulled Xena’s sword from her hand and snatched the chakram from her belt. Phantaos cocked his head toward the approaching child. "Send him away without making him suspicious." He turned a complacent grin toward the youngster.

Camber dropped the pony’s reins as he started up the small hill toward the warrior and the group of men from the valley. He threw a triumphant smile at the woman as he arrived, breathless and panting, in front of her. For a moment, he thought she was angry with him for following her, but as he got closer, he saw something else in the pretty, blue eyes. It made him suddenly hesitant and somewhat edgy.

"Camber," Xena began, forcing herself to smile invitingly at the youngster’s expectant face. "What are you doing out here at this time of day? It’s going to be dark soon."

The boy’s instincts crackled, but he kept his manner calm and accepting. He threw the warrior an agreeable grin and perched his fists at the sides of his belt. The boy trained a cheerful smile at the dark man wearing dirty clothes standing right next to the tall warrior.

"Hi," the boy said easily. "Remember me? I’m the one who always waves at you when I come to the clearing."

Phantaos smiled back at the boy. "Oh yeah. Camber, is it? Nice to see you again." The big man crossed his heavy arms across his chest. Xena’s fists clenched when she heard the subtle sound of the crossbow’s locking arm sliding into place. She quickly stepped forward, placing herself between Camber and the clear line of fire from the threatening arrow.

"Ah, Camber," the warrior said to the boy. "I have some business to attend to with these men. And, it’s getting late, so we’ll have to go after the white horse in the morning, all right?" Camber’s brown eyes jumped to the warrior’s intense gaze, the wide pools narrowing a tiny degree before the message in her words registered in his mind. "So, just meet me back in town and we’ll set a plan for the chase. All right?"

Xena focused meaningfully on the boy’s open gaze. "We’ll go after the white colt tomorrow," the warrior said deliberately. "I give you my word. All right?"

For an instant, the warrior felt a searing glimmer of panic, afraid that the child might react outwardly to her deliberate falsity and incite the robbers into taking dangerous action. But in the next moment she saw the clear understanding flash in the soft, intelligent face. Camber met the blue eyes calmly as the young face sent a corroborative grin back to the woman’s contrived smile.

"Yeah, OK," the boy said cheerfully. He gave the warrior a little salute and sent a friendly grin toward the big man with the serious face. "See you back in town then. I’ll wait for you at the stable, all right, Xena?" The warrior nodded stiffly and the boy turned and scampered back to the waiting pony, jumped onto the animal’s back and urged the little horse forward.

Xena watched the small form grow smaller before she drew a shallow, relieved breath. She said a silent thanks to whichever god had engineered the boy’s compliance and swallowed the dread in her throat. The stiffness in her shoulders had almost dispersed when she heard the gloating, satisfied voice next to her ear.

"Nicely done, Warrior Princess," Phantaos crooned. "You just saved the little whelp’s life."

The warrior leveled a venomous glare at the ugly face.

"Too bad the same can’t be said for yours," the bully smirked.

Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded across the warrior’s skull. She fell to the ground unconscious, the butt of her own sword having been slammed against the back of her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Xena regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the rampant, throbbing pain that occurred whenever she opened her eyes. She clamped them shut a moment, then opened them again very slowly. The blurred images in front of her eventually sharpened as the pounding in her head subsided slightly. The next thing to prick her awareness was the fact she was sitting on the ground, her back against a large, wooden post with her hands secured behind her and the length of rope wound around her chest and shoulders was wrapped so tightly, it prevented her from even drawing a deep breath, let alone trying to move away from the pillar. Finally she realized the face looming above hers was Phantaos and it was wearing a satisfied leer.

"Well, at least I have the pleasure of you knowing who sent you to Hades." The evil face laughed loudly as he leaned over the warrior’s captured form. "Good bye, Xena. We’ll meet in Tartarus some day. And then you can try and return this."

With that, the man drew back one large, gloved hand and delivered a heavy blow across the warrior’s jaw. Her head snapped back against the post and the blackness returned again. As the bully watched, the dark head fell forward, blood trickling from the side of the woman’s mouth onto the flanges of her leather skirt. He stood up straight, dropped the metal circle in his hand beside the sword near the warrior’s hip and laughed again.

"They’ll find your little toys when the worms are through with you." He turned to the brigand beside him. "All loaded?" he asked the plodding thief. When the man nodded, Phantaos moved toward the door to the large room. "Let’s go."

The lieutenant followed his leader to the opening. When Phantaos had passed through the doorway, Gawl turned and flung the lighted torch in his hand into the rippling pool of oil in the center of the wide area. The pool immediately burst into flames, filling the now-barren enclosure with thick, choking smoke. The bully cast a final view at the unconscious woman slumped at the base of the post, then turned and passed through the opening. A few minutes later, there was only quiet in the large room, except for the crackling of the oil-fed fire consuming the wooden shelves and pillars ... and advancing slowly toward the limp form of the warrior princess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xena became aware that the throbbing pain was back, only this time it seemed to travel across her jaw as well as the side of her head. She coughed as the thick smoke around her singed her throat and burned her eyes. The other sensation that captured her attention was the gentle, but determined touch being applied to her right cheek and the soft, young voice saying her name over and over. She slowly opened her eyes and tried to focus on the small face in front of her.

"Xena?" Camber said again. "Xena?" he repeated, patting the woman’s face with his hand. "Wake up, Xena, please. We have to get out of here."

Finally the blue eyes opened wide, stared at him a moment, blinked a few times, then registered clear recognition. The young face smiled widely as the pretty blue eyes cleared and the smooth face responded to his voice.

"Camber?" the warrior said, her voice strident in the empty room.

"It’s all right," the boy said quietly. "Those bad men are gone. I saw them leave."

"What are ... how did you get here?" the warrior asked, the thumping pain in her head distorting her perception.

The boy ignored her question and began tugging hard at the ropes securing her hands. Xena’s voice interrupted his efforts. "No, Camber. Take my sword and cut them. It’ll be faster." The boy’s eyes were surprised, his expression hesitant. "Go on," she urged him. It’s on my other side." She motioned with her head, ignoring the furious pounding that resulted from the hard jerk. "Go on, Camber. Hurry. We don’t have much time."

As if to punctuate her words, one section of the wooden shelving units collapsed, showering the area with sparks and creating a wall of yellow flames as it cascaded to the floor. The boy jumped, then scurried around to the warrior’s other side, picked up the large sword and wedged it between the wood and the ropes along the back of the post. He pulled the handle roughly towards him, took another firm hold on the weapon and pulled again. An instant later, the ropes popped away from the post as Camber stumbled back a step, recoiling from the unexpected snap.

Xena pulled the remaining hemp away from her shoulders then bent her head under the loose circles, freeing herself from the restricting binds. She stood up quickly, using one hand to steady herself, and waited for the wave of dizziness to pass. Camber reached to support the staggering woman. When she had regained control, Xena bent slightly to pick up the chakram from the earthen floor, took the sword from the boy and slid the blade into the sheath on her back. A moment later, a large post next to the one she had been tied against began to waver, falling slowly toward the spot where the warrior and the boy stood.

Xena wrapped her arms around Camber and flung the two of them away from the falling timber. The warrior’s slender body fell hard onto the dirt floor of the cave as the post crashed to the ground in the precise spot they had occupied a moment ago. She winced as her shoulder slammed onto the inflexible, rocky surface. After a moment, she looked down at the boy in her arms. His brown eyes were wide and fearful, his arms wrapped around her neck.

"You OK?" she asked hurriedly. He nodded quickly and scrambled to his feet. "You’re bleeding!" the boy shouted, pointing at the deep gash along the warrior’s shoulder. Xena stood, turning her head to inspect the wound. She swore under her breath at the blood oozing slowly from the open slash. Suddenly her attention was drawn to the burning timbers and the collapsing shelves. She grabbed the boy’s arm and ran toward the darkened opening that led to the smaller cave.

When she reached the door, she threw her healthy shoulder against the surface filling the hatch, stepped back again and repeated the thrust. The surface didn’t move. It had obviously been wedged closed from the other side. Their only means of escape seemed worthless. The blue eyes found the boy’s frightened face.

Suddenly Camber began tugging at the warrior’s hand. "C’mon," he said, pulling her back toward the open room. "We can get out this way."

Xena followed as the boy started to travel along the outer wall of the smoky room, one arm clamped over his mouth and nose, the other securely grasping the warrior’s wrist. She crouched down, trying to stay lower than the rapidly sinking cloud of dark, choking smoke, while at the same time making a determined effort to keep contact with the insistent little hand.

After a half dozen difficult strides, she felt the boy drop to the cave floor then reach back to retrieve her hand. She followed his actions and dropped to her knees, using one arm to shield her mouth as she crept along the earthen floor, Camber’s small hand now tugging at the leather strap on her tunic.

Xena saw the boy’s small figure disappear into the side of the cave. She realized he was guiding her toward another opening, a second access to the interior of the cave. She flattened herself against the earthen floor, found the narrow tunnel with her extended hand and slid her long form into the open shaft. She followed the sound of Camber crawling along the passage ahead of her as she pulled her body along using her elbows and boots to propel herself.

Suddenly the sound of a loud explosion filled the underground tunnel. The warrior covered her head with one arm and frantically reached forward, searching for the boy’s foot. She grunted gratefully when her hand fell on a small boot, and she held on tightly as the dirt and debris from inside the tunnel tumbled down around them. After a few moments, the warrior raised her head.

"Camber?" she shouted, shaking the little foot. "Camber, are you all right?"

She heard a series of muffled coughs followed by a series of loud spitting noises. The warrior expelled a short, happy breath, then found herself spitting the dirt out of her own mouth as well. She felt the little foot move in her hand. She released the boot as the boy craned his head around to answer her question.

"Yeah, I’m OK. You all right, too?"

"Yes. Let’s get going. This whole place is going to blow soon." She heard the boy start crawling again. "Keep going, Camber," she encouraged him. "I’m right behind you."

The warrior and the boy continued their escape, sliding along within the earthen passageway. Suddenly Xena noticed that the air around them had changed texture. It became clearer, less putrid. The smoke in the tunnel had also begun to dissipate. The warrior could tell they were getting closer to the end of the tunnel. Then she saw the light filtering into the passage. They were almost there!

Xena lifted her head to watch Camber scramble out the end of the tunnel. She smiled as she watched the boy’s little behind disappear through the opening to be replaced by his dirt-smudged face. The bright smile on the youthful countenance brought a happy chuckle to the warrior’s aching body.

"OK, I’m out. Keep coming, Xena. You’re almost out, too."

The warrior pushed herself forward again, pulling her long body along the dirt tunnel. She reached out with one long arm and grasped the youngster’s outstretched hand. Camber rocked backwards, trying to gain some leverage, pulling on the woman’s hand until he saw it emerge from the narrow opening. He released the hand and crawled forward, leaving the opening unblocked to allow the warrior to pull herself out.

Just as Xena pushed her other arm into the daylight, another loud explosion rocked the hillside. Camber flattened himself onto the ground as the warrior grimaced. When the thundering noise subsided, Xena tried to pull herself out of the tunnel. It was then she realized the walls of the passage had collapsed around her torso, the weight of the earth trapping her halfway in and halfway out of the underground tunnel. She wasn’t far enough out to get hold of anything solid to pull herself free and she couldn’t move herself forward any farther because of the weight of the dirt pinning her tightly in the opening. The worst of the problem was, she was wedged so tightly in the hole, she couldn’t even get a strong breath. She was securely snared.

Camber jumped to his feet and began tugging hard on the warrior’s arm. He sat down and braced both his feet against the uneven earth, pulling roughly on Xena’s wrist and forearm. His efforts were gallant, but totally fruitless. All he was accomplishing was a rather uncomfortable burn on the woman’s smooth arm.

"Camber," the warrior called. "Camber! Stop, Sweetheart!" Xena said. The boy stopped tugging, his young face a study in frustration and defeat. The soft chin quivered in angry disappointment. Xena took both small hands then reached to stroke the dirty face. "It’s OK" she said, soothingly. "We’re going to be OK," she said to the flushed cheeks. She smiled at the youngster.

"Now listen carefully, please." She drew the boy’s focus to her face. "You’re my hero here, you know? You saved us. Now we’re almost home. Understand?" The boy’s face brightened. He ran one small hand over his eyes, then dragged a sleeve under his nose. The warrior saw the panic leave the young face as the brown eyes remained intent on hers.

"Go find my horse. Can you do that?" she told him. "I left her in the clearing. She’s tied just outside the ca ..."

The boy jumped to his feet, suddenly energized. "I remember!" he chirped happily. "I saw her when I came back to watch." The boy’s face showed a sheepish grin. "Good thing, huh?" he said, teasing. The warrior’s smile met the proud smirk. "I’ll be right back," he told her. With that he turned and ran down the hill, quickly passing from the warrior’s sight. Xena dropped her aching head onto the soft, grassy earth below her chin. She inhaled as far as her captured chest would allow and slowly let the breath out. She closed her eyes tightly to subdue the pounding, blinding pain behind her eyes and tried to relax.

After a moment, the warrior slowly opened her eyes and craned her head around as far in every direction as she could. She raised her eyes to the sky, then trained her blue gaze on the horizon. ‘Nearly dusk,’ the woman decided. ‘I wonder where those creeps have gone,’ she thought tiredly. She dropped her throbbing head onto her extended arm. ‘Gods, just this once, I hope they’re too far away to bother chasing them.’ Xena closed her eyes, giving in to the rest beckoning her tired body and the pounding in her head.

‘A promise is a promise, Gabrielle,’ the warrior said to the vision of her soulmate in her head. ‘A little tired, a little squished ... but at least in one piece.’ The bronze face showed a tiny smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabrielle emerged from the little hut, her arms feeling oddly empty without the bundle of scrolls and clean parchment she had grown accustomed to carrying during the past few days. The distraction she’d been fighting all afternoon nervously awaiting the warrior’s return had done nothing to secure her concentration either. She’d decided to give up on trying to keep her attention on the scrolls a candlemark ago when she realized that dusk was soon approaching and she had not seen her friend’s returning form yet.

The little bard stopped her progress across the town square to turn an expectant gaze toward the stable. Her heart thumped when she noticed the smithy standing against the wooden corral next to the barn, nervously scanning the fields beyond the edge of the town. She changed direction and walked toward the man, a rising apprehension quickening her pulse and tightening her throat. The blacksmith turned to meet her gaze when he heard the approaching footsteps behind him.

"Enoch?" the little bard said as she neared the tall man. "Is something wrong? You look worried." The young woman studied the tanned face, taking note of the concerned look under the full, dark brows.

"It’s Camber," the smithy said to the girl’s sympathetic expression. "He’s usually home by now, it’s not like him to be out after dark." He turned again to the open fields. "His pony came back a while ago." He faced the little bard again. "That’s not unusual. Camber sends the horse back ahead regularly. But he’s usually not far behind." Gabrielle followed the man’s gaze, then turned back to the concerned parental look.

"You don’t think something’s happened, do you?" she asked gently. "Surely he’s all right." The man met the gentle green eyes. "According to Xena, that little guy can handle himself." The bard sent a caring smile at the smithy. The tall man returned the bard’s smile.

"No, no," he said to the emerald pools. "It’s just that it’s not like him to be so late." The dark eyes scanned the horizon again. After a moment, the smithy stood back from the wooden fence and untied the leather strings on his long apron. He moved purposefully toward the barn as the bard followed. He raised the leather covering over his head and hung it on a nearby nail, then lifted a heavy saddle from the rack near the door, picked up a bridle from the collection on the wall and strode into one of the stalls beside a sturdy, rust-colored horse.

As Enoch saddled the sturdy animal, the little bard studied the precise movements for a moment, then spoke to the smithy’s wide back.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked him.

The man responded, while keeping his attention on the business of saddling the chestnut horse.

"No, you’d better stay here and wait for Xena," he said. "Maybe she’s seen him or knows where he is. If she gets back before I do, tell her I’ve gone to the little clearing. That’s where Camber usually is when he’s lost track of time chasing that black colt."

Enoch had finished with the saddle and he guided the horse backwards, out of the stall and into the road in front of the stable. On the way through the stable door, he slipped a leather water pouch from a nail near the doorway and hung the narrow strap over the saddlehorn. Once outside, he swung himself easily into the saddle, gathered the reins from the horse’s neck and looked down at the bard standing near the animal’s shoulder. "I’m sure he’s fine," the girl said to the worried brown eyes. "Like you said, he’s probably lost track of time and is on his way home right now."

The smithy gave the girl a weak smile, pulled the reins to the side of the horse’s neck and urged the animal toward the open field. Gabrielle watched the man ride away, a hollow feeling unsettling her stomach. As the smithy’s tall form disappeared in the fading daylight, the little blonde turned slowly toward the Inn, her thoughts as concerned as the tradesman’s had been. But the girl’s anxious feelings were of a certain tall, raven-haired warrior princess who was even later in her scheduled return than the boy.

‘Before dark, you said, Xena. You’re late. Please let it not be because you’re hurt, OK?’ the little bard thought hopefully. She let her steps take her toward the Inn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xena heard the mare’s hooves before she saw the animal. She opened her eyes and turned toward the sound, a warm welcome filling her senses as the golden head emerged over the hill. Camber’s short form preceded the horse, the reins grasped loosely in his small hand. He gave the warrior a proud smile and dropped to the ground near her.

"I found her. She was right where you said," the boy announced. Argo neighed in compliance, dropping her head to nuzzle the warrior’s dark, dirt-matted hair. "Hi, yourself," the warrior said, scratching the animal’s nose. Then she turned to the boy’s dirt-streaked face.

"Get my whip, Camber, on the side of the saddle. See it?"

The boy focused on the saddle, rose and untied the whip. He dropped to the ground again next to the warrior. She uncurled the leather thong, handing the slim end back to the youngster.

"Tie this to the saddlehorn."

The boy took the end of the whip and did exactly as he was told. He stretched his modest form out as far as he could, standing on tiptoe as he secured the leather piece to the tall horn at the front of the saddle. He turned back to the warrior. She had the hard, bound handle clasped tightly in both hands.

"OK, now lead Argo away from me," she instructed the boy. Camber turned back to the mare and, with one small hand on the side of the horse’s bridle, slowly began to lead the mare away. The whip went taut, as the warrior held on tightly. She grimaced as the pain in her shoulder sent a fiery wave across her back and down her arm. Xena pulled hard with her good arm, trying to keep the wounded shoulder from suffering any further strain.

Suddenly, the saddle on the horse’s back shifted. The horn that had stood at the front now slid down the animal’s side. Unaware of the change in the saddle’s position, Camber continued leading the mare away from the woman on the ground.

Finally the girth strap snapped and the saddle dropped unceremoniously to the ground beside the mare. The boy turned quickly, recognized the situation and halted the horse’s progress.

"Whoa, Argo," the boy crooned expertly. He pulled back firmly on the leather bridle and the mare halted immediately. The boy gazed down dejectedly at the useless saddle lying on its side at the horse’s feet. He turned nervous eyes toward the quiet warrior. The woman was lying inert, her eyes closed, her face pale, blood spurting from the wide wound on her shoulder covering her upper arm and smeared on the side of her face.

Camber dropped to the ground near the woman. "Xena?" he called gently. He touched the warrior’s face gently, then took one of the limp hands in his. "Xena!" the boy said again.

There was no response from the immobile warrior.

Camber jumped to his feet and stepped to the mare. He knelt and untied the whip from the saddlehorn, then pulled the saddle away from the horse’s feet. Moving up to the animal’s face, he pulled the golden head down toward his own face.

"She’s really hurt, Argo," the boy said fervently into the mare’s soft ear. Argo craned her head around at her mistress’ quiet form. She turned back to the boy. "We gotta get her out of there and back to town," he told the horse. He rubbed the strong neck with a dirt-smudged palm and gazed helplessly at the still warrior. "There’s gotta be a way, Argo. Help me think of a way." Camber kept rubbing the sinewy, yellow neck. Suddenly the little face cleared as the youngster’s quick mind determined a plan. He gave the silvery mane a friendly pat and stepped to the edge of the grassy hill.

Camber placed his two forefingers between his teeth and clamped his lips around the digits. Taking a deep breath, he blew hard against the captured fingers, resulting in a loud, shrill whistle that shrieked through the quiet dusk and echoed across the open meadow. When the piercing sound had died away, he took another breath and sent another high-pitched tone into the darkening sky. He lowered his fingers and waited, listening hard for the sound he hoped would follow.

Moments later, the sound of pounding hoofbeats filled the quiet air. Camber turned toward the sound, his eyes scanning the horizon expectantly. A few seconds passed and he smiled widely at the dark form that appeared over the grassy summit. Camber patted the mare’s neck to quiet the nervousness in the horse’s manner. "It’s OK, Argo. He’s my friend too." The boy held out the other small hand and the black colt stepped timidly forward.

"Hi, Pan," the boy said quietly. The black colt shook his handsome head, the white blaze shining clearly even in the fading daylight. Camber touched the horse’s soft muzzle gently, then dropped his hands and addressed the animal openly.

"OK, here’s the problem," he said to the colt’s dark eyes. He motioned toward the still-unmoving warrior lying silently on the ground behind him. "My friend is hurt, so we have to get her back to town as soon as we can." He faced the colt again. "Trouble is, she’s stuck in the tunnel and you and Argo," he waved a palm toward the mare, "have to help me get her out." The colt stood still, responding to the boy’s gentle tone.

"I won’t try to catch you, I won’t even try to make you stay here after we’re done, OK?" Camber said, his young face sincere. "Just help us get her out, OK, Pan?" The colt tossed his shiny, black head. "Please? It’s really important." The mare whinnied quietly and the black colt stepped closer to the larger, golden horse. Camber stood quietly, watching the two animals communicate. He smiled when the black colt turned his attention back to his hopeful face. "OK, good," the boy crooned. Then he slowly backed away from the pair of horses.

The boy moved quickly toward a clump of stocky bushes on the side of the hill. He grabbed one of the stalks firmly and yanked with all his might. After the third pull, the thick, fibrous length came out of the ground and Camber carried it back to where the horses stood on the hill near the immobile warrior.

The youngster laid the stalk in front of the animals, picked up the end of the whip and tied the slim strip securely around the middle of the stem. Then he moved back to the toward the quiet Xena, trailing his hands along the whip. He gently slid the grip from her hands and, reaching under the slender form, encircled the warrior and tied a strong knot near the bound grip. He tugged lightly on the leather thong, testing the knot. Satisfied with his efforts, he stood up and walked back to the horses, lifted the stalk from the ground and held it firmly in front of the animals’ faces.

"Now, take hold and pull, you guys," he urged the horses. Argo lowered her head and took one end of the stalk in her mouth. After a moment, the black colt lowered his head and did the same. "Good job," Camber sang out. He turned around to face the warrior’s inert form and, grasping the extended whip firmly with both hands, began to pull as hard as he could on the leather strip wrapped around the woman’s body.

"Together!" Camber called. "One, two, three!" The boy pulled on the whip and the horses pulled on the stalk. After a moment, Camber saw the loose dirt around the warrior’s body start to move. He dug his heels into the grassy earth and leaned back, tugging with all his strength. "She’s moving!" he called to the horses, and the mare and the colt each took a step backwards. And the whip grew taut again.

Xena’s eyes fluttered open as she realized her body was moving forward. She lifted her head slowly, recognizing her whip stretched out stiffly in front of her and felt the strong pull around her torso. She took hold of the leather strip and felt the heavy weight of the earth around her chest give way. After another moment, the sleek, muscled form slid sharply forward and the warrior felt the cool grass on the hill caress her legs. She felt the whip in her hands go slack an instant before she reacted to the young male form hugging her neck tightly. She shifted to one side, supporting her weight on the elbow below her uninjured shoulder, and returned the youngster’s enthusiastic hug.

"You did it, Camber," she said against the soft, wavy brown hair. The boy sat back to meet the warrior’s tired smile. "You got me loose. You’re a very smart young man."

Camber’s brown eyes left the woman’s blue gaze to focus on the two horses standing patiently at the end of the whip. He turned back to the warrior. "We did it!" he proclaimed proudly. "Me and Argo and Pan."

Xena turned her shoulders to follow the boy’s pointing finger. She smiled at Argo’s golden face, then her eyes moved to the small, sleek, black horse standing beside the mare. The warrior turned back to the excited boy.

"Pan?" she said to the dancing brown eyes. Camber nodded, then hopped to his feet. "Yeah, that’s what I call him." As the warrior watched, the boy walked slowly toward the white-blazed face, one small palm extended toward the colt’s soft muzzle. "Thanks, boy," he said softly. The colt bobbed his head, letting the small hand stroke his nose for a few seconds. Then the black head jerked back, and the ebony animal danced backward. Camber lowered his hand and stepped toward the mare.

"OK," he said to the beautiful wild colt. "A deal’s a deal. I gave you my word. Go." The black hide quivered a moment as the colt stood still, meeting the youngster’s soft smile. After another moment, the indigo horse, whinnied loudly, pivoted and sped away, his black form disappearing into the darkening sky. Camber watched the shrinking figure for a moment, then turned back to the warrior’s admiring gaze. "A deal’s a deal, right?" he said to the knowing blue eyes.

Xena nodded quietly, her gaze steady on the soft, brown eyes. "Right," she answered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enoch straightened in the saddle when he heard the shrill whistle shriek across the open meadow. The tanned face lit in a grateful smile as the man turned his head toward the sound, tracking its direction. His eyes scanned the short hills across from his position and he saw the small, black horse silhouetted against the gray sky. The smithy clucked to the chestnut horse and urged the mount toward the sight.

The tall rider guided the gelding to the narrow trail he knew ran up the back side of the rising hill; he knew his access to the top of the mound lay in that approach. He leaned forward in the saddle as the animal beneath him seemed to sense the necessity of a swift journey. Enoch’s heart pounded behind his tunic. The whistle meant his son was alive and at least capable of initiating the sound. The second high-pitched warble widened the man’s smile.

A few minutes later, the muscled form jumped down from the horse’s back and ran up the hill, his boots battling the uneven terrain and his own excitement. Twice he had to thrust his hands out in front of him to thwart an impending face-down mishap. But his happy reaction drove him on.

When he reached the top of the hill, he stopped running, bent forward and rested his hands on his knees, breathing deeply to catch his breath. He filled his lungs several times, then raised his eyes to scan the grassy area, searching for the small boy and the tall warrior. He quickly found them both. The warrior was laying on the grass, leaning evenly on one elbow, her leather tunic covered with dirt, the other long arm embracing the wrinkled, equally dirty, much-the-worse-for-wear, wonderfully welcome form of his young son.

As the smithy watched, his son rose from the warrior’s side and walked slowly toward the small, black horse, one hand extended, to touch the horse’s gray muzzle for a moment before the small black head pulled back. The man held himself as still as he could. He saw his son lower his hand and heard the boy’s voice float over the quiet air.

"OK, a deal’s a deal. I gave you my word. Go." Enoch saw the horse dance backward, then turn and bolt away. The smithy took a quiet breath and moved toward the pair at the top of the hill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xena saw Camber’s eyes move past her and sparkle brightly. "Daddy!" the boy shouted and ran toward the smithy. The man bent to claim the boy’s little form, lifting the child up and wrapping his strong arms around the wiggling torso as the youngster hugged his neck heartily. The warrior watched the touching reunion, closing her eyes for a moment to stem the pounding in her head that threatened to dispatch her sensibilities. After a moment, Camber leaned back in his father’s arms and smiled into the smithy’s tanned face.

"You all right?" Enoch asked the child, unwilling to release the boy from his arms.

"I’m great," the boy chirped happily. He turned to look back at the warrior, still prone on the grass. "But Xena’s hurt. She’s got a big cut on her shoulder."

The smithy’s elation subsided as he focused on the tall form in leather. He set the boy on his feet and moved quickly toward the warrior. As he knelt near her, he noticed the ragged wound on her shoulder, the blood on her arm and face, and the pallid cast to the attractive features.

Xena smiled weakly at the tanned face. She tried to raise herself up, but the man laid a gentle hand on her ‘good’ shoulder and turned to address his son.

"Camber, the chestnut is at the bottom of the hill. Go get him. I’ll need the water pouch."

The boy turned quickly and ran in the direction from which his father had come. Enoch turned back to the tall woman, his smile warm and concerned.

"It’s not too bad," the warrior said to the brown eyes.

"Yeah, just a scratch," the man said drolly, meeting the woman’s blue gaze. Enoch pulled at the edge of his tunic. He took a small knife from his belt, slipped it under the looped fabric and sliced a small opening in the cloth. He replaced the knife and ripped a long, wide piece of material from the garment, then tore another, narrow piece from the same piece of cloth. He folded the wide section over several times and pressed it carefully against the bleeding wound on the warrior’s shoulder. He used the narrow piece to tie the thick wad of cloth in place.

Camber returned, leading the gelding. He pulled the water skin from the side of the saddle and handed it to his father. Enoch uncorked the skin and placed it in the warrior’s shaky hand. Xena took several long swallows, then handed the skin back to the smithy. She sent the man another small smile. Enoch handed the skin to the boy and Camber took some of the liquid, as well.

While the boy enjoyed the water, the smithy turned back to the warrior. "Can you stand?" he asked her, laying a gentle hand on her arm.

"I think so," Xena said as she flexed her ankles. "My legs are a little numb, but I think they’ll still hold me." She accepted his strong grip and pulled herself into a more upright position. Enoch moved to stand near the warrior’s feet, his arms outstretched, his palms towards her. Xena took the smithy’s hands and let him pull her to her feet. She winced as the tingling in her ankles and thighs gradually changed to a warm, prickling sensation. As she rose from her prone position, the smithy wrapped one strong arm around the woman’s waist and waited while she tested the status of her legs. When it was determined that her muscles were returning to normal, Xena bent forward, her hands on her knees, and pulled in several deep gulps of air. Then she stood up slowly.

"Everything works," she said to the concerned expression. "I am a little dizzy. Must be the thin air up here."

The smithy’s slow smile brought a sheepish grin from the warrior. Then she bent forward again as the wave of dizziness behind her eyes threatened her balance. Enoch’s arm tightened around her waist. He turned to the boy.

"Bring her horse, son. I’ll saddle her so Xena can ...."

"The girth snapped," the boy said and the Enoch looked down the saddle on the ground. He turned back to Camber. "Bring the gelding here. She’ll need the horn." He met the woman’s blue gaze. "I’ll rig something. And I’ll ride Argo, all right?"

The warrior nodded wordlessly, still combating the cloudiness in her senses and the nausea in her throat. She rested her hands on her knees again.

Camber brought the gelding next to his father and Xena. The smithy guided the warrior’s foot into the stirrup and helped her swing herself into the saddle. He handed her the horse’s reins. While Enoch helped Xena get settled on the gelding, Camber gathered up the whip and the waterskin and handed them both to the warrior. She hung the coiled whip and the strap from the skin on the saddlehorn in front of her. She turned to watch the smithy’s activity at the mare.

Enoch knelt beside the saddle on the ground and tore the useless half of the girth strap away. Then he stood and pulled his leather belt from the waist of his trousers, knelt again and threaded the slotted end of the belt through the empty loops on the side of the seat and through the buckle on the belt. He yanked the belt tight against the hard leather of the underside of the seat. He stood up, lifted the saddle onto the horse’s back, reached under Argo’s belly to retrieve the new makeshift girth binding and drew it towards him. Working smoothly, he threaded the end of the belt through the buckle at the end of the other side of the saddle and pulled the strap tight against the mare’s middle. He tested the saddle’s position and turned to the warrior’s exhausted expression. "It’ll do until we get back to town, anyway." The brown eyes seemed to offer the warrior encouragement. The woman nodded her agreement.

Enoch brought the mare’s head to face the same direction as the gelding’s and held out his hand to his son. ‘C’mon, Camber. You’ll ride with me."

Suddenly the boy’s faced clouded. "I wanna ride with Xena, Daddy," the youngster said, his dirty little face locked in determination.

The smithy dropped his hand slightly and trained an impatient gaze on the boy’s stubborn expression. "Camber, she’s hurt and ...."

"Enoch," the warrior’s quiet voice broke the stillness on the hill. The smithy’s brown pools met the woman’s clear blue gaze. She sent the man a soft smile, then turned her eyes to the boy standing near her left knee. Wordlessly, she held out her open hand to the boy. His face brightened as he grasped the warrior’s wrist and stepped closer to the chestnut horse. Camber jumped as high as he could and Xena pulled him up into the saddle in front of her. She wrapped her uninjured arm around the boy’s waist and he settled back against the armor on her chest. She turned tiredly to the smithy, now mounted on Argo.

"We’ll take it as slow as you need, OK?" the man said, his eyes on the warrior’s tired face. She nodded silently and nudged the gelding forward, turning the horse toward the road to town.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabrielle took the warrior’s arm to help her out of the bathtub. The bard let the tall woman rest against the side of the reservoir for a moment as she wrapped the large, soft linen sheet around the dripping form. Xena waited while the girl surrounded her in cloth before letting her guide them both toward the waiting pallet.

As the little blonde wrapped the material around her friend, she remembered the sight of the injured warrior when the three riders had arrived back in town. Gabrielle had been waiting at the stable, perched on the top rail of the wooden fence beside the barn, hopeful eyes trained on the empty road, since the beginning of the evening, shortly after the smithy’s departure to search for his son.

She recalled how her heart had bounced at the first sight of her tall friend, slouching slightly on the chestnut horse, the young boy in front of her, while the smithy rode beside her on Argo. The switch in the mounts hadn’t seemed worth consideration; the important thing was that her best friend had returned, apparently in one piece and at least sound enough to arrive on horseback.

As the riders came closer, the bard’s eyes had caught the soiled bandage secured to the warrior’s shoulder and she’d noticed the tense grip the woman maintained on the saddlehorn. The little blonde jumped down from the fence when the horses turned into the stableyard, the heady elation she felt at the warrior’s safe return quickly replaced by the numbing realization that the tall woman on the chestnut horse was hurt and more seriously, the bard suspected, than the warrior would choose to display.

Enoch had dismounted first, handing the mare’s reins to the little bard, then stepped to swing his son from the saddle in front of the warrior. He had turned back to Xena, wrapping one strong arm around her waist. As the warrior had slid from the saddle, the bard recalled how her stomach had tightened when her friend’s long legs had seemed to crumble beneath her and how she gasped when the smithy had gallantly swept the tall woman into his arms and cradled her wounded form against his wide chest.

The blacksmith had turned a comforting gaze at the little bard’s frightened expression, smiled warmly and asked, "Where would you like our friend, here?" The bard cheerfully recalled how the man had masterfully dismissed the warrior’s weak protestations about being hearty enough to walk. He had turned to the woman in his arms and replied, "Quiet, please." Then he had followed the bard’s instructions to transport her injured friend to their room. Gabrielle recalled her own light amusement at the sight of the tall smithy proceeding smoothly down the hall and depositing the sulking woman on the large bed. She had thanked the man for his kindness and prepared to minister to her friend.

On her way through the tavern behind the smithy, the bard had instructed Minerva to bring the large bathtub to their room along with enough hot water to fill the wooden appliance. While her request was being fulfilled, the girl had removed the warrior’s weapons, assisted her in shedding her dirt-caked leathers, arm and leg coverings, her linen undergarment and her boots. She had helped the warrior get comfortable in the bed, the light coverlet covering her naked, bruised body, and gently removed the blood-soaked bandage the smithy had applied to the jagged cut on the warrior’s shoulder. She had decided the woman should bath first, before attending to the oozing wound.

She had guided the warrior into the tub, carefully washed the dirt and grime from the battered body, scrubbed and rinsed the long, dirt-and-debris-matted hair, rubbed the raven locks dry and carefully patted the moisture from the wet form with another of the large linen cloths provided by the young waitress. Finally she had helped the warrior back to the soft mattress, where the woman now waited patiently, her clean body covered by the warm coverlet, awaiting the ministrations required to attend to the long, ragged wound along her shoulder.

The bard had performed all of these duties, complete with her usual level of compassion and loving care, without uttering a single, solitary, sentient word. Her continuing silence had completely unseated the warrior’s sensibilities.

Xena studied the soft face of her best friend as the girl spread the contents of the medicine bag on the small table beside the bed. The little bard crossed the room and retrieved the small herb pouch from the saddlebags hanging on one of the pegs next to the doorway of the room. She thrust her hand into the pouch, searching for the preferred medicinal plant. The warrior cleared her throat nervously.

Continued - Part 8 (Conclusion)

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