"WHAT?!? I spoke with Eduardo yesterday . . . He didn’t mention anything about a GOD DAMN strike!"

Mel stood by uneasily, wishing she could do something.

"Janice, they wanted to be payed before the dig," Richard Wright informed her as he got out of the passenger side of the truck.

"Jesus H. Christ!! Eduardo and his men all KNEW the University only pays AFTER the work is done." Janice rubbed her throbbing temples, amazed that after the past few days, things would continue to be so bad. Covington luck holding up as usual, she silently groaned.

"With the Nazis plague spreading, workers are not so sure about tomorrow, or whether they’ll get payed," Richard explained, making the archeologist furrow her brows. She hated it when he sounded so all-knowing.

"Don’t worry Janice . . . " Richard added calmly.

"Don’t worry?!? How the hell, DICK, can four people excavate ONE building, let alone the whole god damn CITY!!" Janice barked, making the Mel cringe.

"Dr. Covington," George interjected with cautious enthusiasm. "Dr. Wright was able to hire replacement workers who don’t mind being payed later," George quickly offered, standing uneasily at Dr. Wright’s side.

"Unfortunately, they won’t be here until tomorrow," Richard added.

Janice’s anger drained away to everyone’s relief.

"Pretty impressive, Dick. Getting a group together on such short notice. I suppose I should thank you," Janice offered with a cool smile.

"No thanks necessary, Janice. Your reputation isn’t the only one on the line with this dig," Richard added, smiling easily with a shrug.

Mel sat alone in the tent, tapping her fingers on the table as she waited. It seemed an awfully long time since the archeologist left for her walk.

From the snoring in the next tent, Mel could tell the men were sleeping soundly which made Mel wonder why she and Janice weren’t doing the same. Well, she knew very well why SHE wasn’t sleeping. Janice was outside somewhere, alone. For some reason it bothered her, even thought she knew Janice was more than capable of taking care of herself. And she did have her revolver with her, the southerner considered, which didn’t help ease her mind. ‘Guns,’ Mel sighed and shivered slightly.

With a deep breath, Mel rose from her chair and started pacing. Despite being from a family of avid hunters, Mel never got comfortable with guns. And she never understood those who liked to be around them. They were just plain scary. Anyone could pull a trigger and cause horrible damage, Mel considered.

Stopping in front of Janice’s cot, Mel eyed the whip coiled up on top of it. Without any reservation, she picked up the braided leather object, admiring it for what it was. A dangerous weapon? Sure, but only in the in the right, skillful hands, Mel reflected. Janice had demonstrated that to her a number of times. She smiled, remembering on the last dig how Janice rolled over, grabbed the whip, and in a single stroke, killed a particularly annoying fly that invaded the tent, then rolled back over on her cot and fell asleep.

Janice made it look so easy, the southerner mused. Mel uncoiled the lengthy whip, spilling the end of it onto the floor. Giving in to her curiosity and having an opportunity a southern lady wasn’t usually afforded, Mel grinned and enthusiastically drew her arm back.

The end of the whip caught around the chair leg and table, causing the southerner roll her eyes with frustration at her complete lack of coordination. With a sighed, she knelt down to untangle the whip. Standing up, she took a deep breath and pushed her glasses up on her nose. Abruptly, she cocked her arm back. The crisp crack on the back stroke surprised and just might have delighted her, had she not heard a loud "OW!" along with it.

Mel gasped and turned to find Janice with a stunned look on her face, holding her hand on the top of her left breast.

"Oh MY! Janice!!" Mel blurted, quickly tossing the whip on the table as if it was too hot to handle. "Oh My. . . ." The southerner repeated, rushing over to her friend. "Are you ok?!?" Mel asked nervously, trying to move Janice’s hand to see if she did any real damage. An annoyed Janice pushed her hands away.

"FINE, Mel, Just FINE," Janice blurted, tossing her hat down on the table and sitting down in a chair. Glancing at the whip then the southerner, she shook her head, thanking GOD the southerner didn’t like guns as she rubbed her tender spot.

"I’m SO sorry, Janice. I’ll never touch it again," Mel blurted guiltily, glancing at archeologist’s breast.

"Jesus Christ, Mel, you can touch it. . . just be more careful," Janice sighed, surprising the southerner.

"Uh . . .of course, Janice," Mel relayed uncertainly.

"And practice OUTSIDE . . . OK?" Janice added.

"Outside," Mel repeated with a hesitant nod, amazed the archeologist didn’t tell her to keep her hands off her whip.

An exhausted Janice groaned as she stood back up.

"I did hurt you!" Mel blurted anxiously.

"I’m fine Mel, really," Janice responded softly, then looked at the southerner curiously. "Why are you still up?"

"Why are YOU still up?" Mel countered firmly, surprising the archeologist.

"I have trouble sleeping when I’m not sure what’s going on," Janice admitted with a shrug.

"Richard hired replacement workers, Janice," Mel offered. "It will all work out, you’ll see," she added warmly.

"Yeah," Janice responded, unconvinced anything Dick was involved in would ever turn out OK. "You should get some sleep, Mel. We have an early day tomorrow. Even without the workers, there is some excavating we can do on a building I found," Janice relayed with mild enthusiasm, sitting at the table. "It’s main door is partially exposed. Shouldn’t take much to get inside,"

"You’ve already planned tomorrow’s work?" Mel asked with amazement as she sat on her cot and took her boots off.

"Yeah," Janice said, pulling out a map and a journal.

"Janice, aren’t you going to get some rest?" Mel pulled off her second boot. "You’ve been going non-stop for the past few days," Mel observed with concern.

"I just have a few observations to log. Go try to get some shut-eye, I’ll get some sleep in a minute."

"You sure? You need your rest too Dr. Covington," Melinda scolded her.

Janice looked at her blankly. Melinda raised an eyebrow. Janice rolled her eyes and looked back at her journal.

"Well, just as long as we understand each other," Mel relayed sternly and laid down on her cot. Within minutes, the southerner was sound asleep.

Chapter 18 - A Long List

Xena’s eyes darted from building to building, face to face, as she walked through Zemal. Only a few buildings were affected by fire, she noted thankfully. If Bayentes wanted to destroy the town by fire, she knew he could have done so easily. And if it happened along the way, she also knew it wouldn’t bother him in the least. But destruction of Zemal wasn’t really what he was after, the Warrior Princess sighed.

Gabrielle scanned the tavern, now a make-shift hospital. Seeing a handful of men with relatively minor injuries, she was thankful the casualties were not worse.

Smiling warmly at a bearded man with large belly, the bard knelt down by him and looked over the shallow sword wound on his arm.

"You know, I think a drink would help speed up my recovery. . . " He suggested helpfully to the bard, pointing to the bar.

"Nice try," Gabrielle responded with a smirk, handing him a water bottle instead.

The injured man shrugged with a sheepish smile and took a long sip.

The bard gathered her medical supplies. They were hardly used, she noted thankfully as she inventoried them. However, she also knew they were not out of the woods yet.

Her thoughts drifted to the man none of her herbs or bandages would have helped, the first man to be brutally cut down in the street. Remembering his life violently gush from his body as he collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, the bard shivered.

In front of a charred home, Xena paused as she passed a mother comforting her crying child. Both were still in their night clothes after being abruptly driven from their home by the flames from the early morning attack.

They didn’t deserve to be the battlefield for Bayentes’ revenge, the warrior thought as a guilty ache grew in her heart. The mother looked up to find the warrior looking at her.

"Go AWAY!" The mother spat, clutching her frightened son. "Haven’t you brought enough pain already!!"

Xena took in a quick, sharp breath and shook off the comment. "If you need help . . . " Xena offered with forced detachment, starting to point towards the make-shift hospital.

"Help!?!" The woman gave a pained laugh. "My husband was MURDERED and my home was BURNED!!" She kept her arms protectively around her crying son. "I think we’ve had enough of your HELP already! GO AWAY!!" The mother blurted and started to cry, hugging her son tightly. "Just go . . . away . . . " She repeated between her sobs.

Xena nodded once and turned from the angry mother. Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Xena continued her search for Bayentes’ men.

"Hey, you ok?" The large bearded man asked Gabrielle, who looked at him a moment. She nodded with a warm smile, giving his forearm a squeeze. When she got up to check on another injured Zemalian, she noticed out of the corner of her eye an argument between Staveros and a couple of women.

"You are crazy to think I am hanging around here," the stocky innkeeper snapped at the merchant. Another woman nodded in agreement.

"But we need everyone! Xena said . . . " Staveros countered.

"I don’t give a rat’s ass what Xena said. We are in danger being around her! If she is right and another attack is coming, I’m not interested in sticking around HERE for it," the woman blurted.

"It’s not safe here," the quieter woman added, looking around uneasily at the room of injured.

"It’s not safe on the road either," Gabrielle interjected firmly, causing the three to turn to the bard. "Bayentes will have soldiers looking out for people trying to leave."

"Listen to Gabrielle," Staveros pleaded to the women, then turned to the bard. "Please talk some sense into them, Gabrielle. Tell them they need to stay here," Staveros blurted.

The two woman silently looked at each other then the bard.

"I can’t," the bard responded, surprising the three. "They are right, Staveros, it isn’t safe here either."

The stocky innkeeper eyed Staveros with a raised eyebrow, not needing to say ‘I told you so.’

"But if you are determined to go, we need to talk," Gabrielle relayed with concern for the two women.

As she started to enter one of the last buildings she was going to check for soldiers, Xena’s head snapped towards the sound of a muffled yelp, followed by a deafening silence alerting the warrior to trouble. She followed the sound to the temple next door.

Quietly unsheathing her sword, the Warrior Princess paused at the entrance, listening. Hearing a pair of shuffling feet, Xena slipped into the shadows of the torch lit temple.

She waited in those shadows until she saw the pair, a terrified woman held by one of Bayentes men with a knife to her throat. He was waiting for her, Xena concluded, seeing him glance around the temple.

"Let her go," Xena spoke calmly, emerging from the darkness. The startled soldier, gripped the woman tighter. He pressed his dagger firmly against her throat.

"Let her go, and I’ll spare your life," Xena added coolly, staring him directly in the eyes.

He smirked. "Not worth much, all in all . . . thanks to you," he relayed coolly, surprising the Warrior Princess, who tried to place him. She couldn’t.

"What else do you have to offer?" The soldier asked with a smirk, then felt the woman in his grip squirm. "Settle DOWN wench, or I’ll slit your throat!" The soldier barked at the shaking woman, who whimpered.

The woman’s eyes sought and found Xena’s. Finding comfort in the confident blue gaze, she calmed down.

"What is Bayentes offering you?" Xena asked, returning her sword to its sheath, and waited for an opening.

"Something you couldn’t possibly give me," he laughed.

"Oh? And what would that be?" Xena asked with a silky voice and raised eyebrow.

"Revenge for your crimes against us," he added with an eager look in his eyes.

"Us?" Xena asked as her stomach dropped. He laughed with amusement.

"You’ve left a long line of destruction in your wake, Warrior Princess. Bayentes isn’t the only one who wants revenge. It’s incredible how many people. . . an army’s worth," he grinned with satisfaction at the stunned, albeit brief, look he brought to Xena’s face.

Without another word, the soldier viciously ripped open the woman’s small neck with his jagged blade. Her life’s liquid spewed out, splattering the Warrior Princess on the face and chest, before the dead woman slumped to the ground.

Xena’s wide eyes of surprise angrily narrowed as her hand lashed out and clamped tightly around his throat. The dagger was immediately knocked to the floor as the Warrior Princess erupted with a loud angry growl and lifted his murderous body by the neck. Stepping over the dead woman, she slammed him against the temple wall.

Already resigned to the fact he would die today, the soldier only smiled as he gasped to regain the breath knocked out of him.

"You BASTARD," Xena exploded, seething with anger as the woman’s blood trickled down her face. "She was an innocent!"

"We were all innocents . . . once. . . but you destroyed that. And we’ll see you pay for your past . . , " he blurted with difficulty, yet with a smile firmly planted on his face. "We are many . . . we . . ."

Interrupting his propaganda, her hand clamped down harder on his throat. Their eyes locked as she continued to squeeze the life out of him. His body twitched a few times before it finally went limp. Letting go, she watched his lifeless shell slide down the wall and slump over onto the floor, where now there were two dead bodies.

Two more to add to the long list. . . .

"Mel?" Janice eyed the southerner, who was sleeping soundly on her cot. The archeologist glanced back at the tent flaps, where the morning light peaked through.

"Mmmmmm," Mel responded as she shifted and clenched her pillow tighter. Janice rolled her eyes.

"Mel, wake up," Janice tried again with some annoyance, glancing at the tent flaps then back to the southerner, who pulled up her blanket to her neck and sighed contentedly.

"Mel! Wake UP!" Janice tried again, shaking her shoulder.

"AH!" A startled Mel blurted, sitting up rapidly. "Janice! There is NO need to shout!" Mel snapped. She looked at the small night stand next to her cot for her glasses. Mel smiled sheepishly, seeing the archeologist already holding them out for her.

"Oh . . . thank you," she responded softly, taking them and putting them on.

"Mel, we need to talk," Janice said gravely, sitting down on the adjacent cot.

"Janice, how long have you been up?" Mel asked with concern, eyeing the archeologist’s already dusty and sweaty clothes. The southerner quickly pinned up a stray piece of hair that fell down in her still-sleepy face.

"Mel," Janice responded impatiently.

"Knock, knock!!" Richard announced brightly, standing just outside the tent door.

"Come in," Mel instinctively answered, rubbing her eyes under her glasses. Janice moaned and shook her head.

"You ladies ready?" He asked happily as he entered the tent. "Oh. . . I guess you’re not," he added with amusement, seeing Mel just waking up.

"What do you want, DICK?" Janice asked coldly as she stood, eyeing the intruder.

"Whoa Janice, I guess we got up on the wrong side of the cot this morning!" He joked then cleared his throat seeing Janice’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits.

"Uh, just wondering what you want for breakfast. I’m the cook this morning. Luckily, you’ll only have to put up with my cooking for one day," Richard informed them with a big grin.

Seeing Janice still eye him, the grin dissolved. "Well, why don’t I make . . .uh. . . something . . . ," he relayed uneasily then tried to smile. "I’ll let you know when it is ready," he added and left.

"Janice, what is with you two?" Mel asked curiously, finally getting up from her cot.

Janice turned to her with an unnerving gaze. "Don’t EVER turn your back on him, Mel," she warned her friend. "We’ve got . . . ," Janice gravely added, but was interrupted with the second visitor that morning.

"Dr. Covington!" Georg excitedly burst into the tent. "I freed the door up on that building. . . ," Georg paused, seeing the familiar look on Dr. Covington’s face. " . . . you showed me," he peeped, knowing Janice wanted to strangle him.

"I guess I should have. . . knocked?" He said sheepishly, looking back at the tent flap.

Janice sighed heavily.

"Did you go inside??" Mel gushed with excitement. Not yet jaded by the business, Janice considered with mild envy, remembering when she was just as enthusiastic.

"Yes I did!" He answered happily. Janice couldn’t blame Georg for that stupid smile on his face. Although he had seen the seedier side of the business, the southerner’s genuine enthusiasm was contagious, Janice considered.

"How exciting! What a way to start the day," Mel relayed with a huge smile, glancing at the archeologist, who took a deep breath and quietly listened.

"Well, unfortunately, it’s rather . . . uninteresting," Georg revealed with a slight frown. "But perhaps there is more to it than I’ve seen so far," Georg relayed optimistically with a hopeful smile.

"Well, I’ve just GOT to go see it!" Mel added, bubbling with enthusiasm. "I’m glad you woke me, Janice. If I slept any longer, I wonder what ELSE I would have missed out on," she relayed as she eagerly followed Georg out the tent.

Pausing, a smiling Mel turned back curiously to her friend. "Aren’t you coming?" Mel asked Janice, who wasn’t moving.

"In a minute," Janice responded, scratching the back of her neck. Mel eyed her. "Go on, have fun, I’ll catch up . . . ," Janice added with a small smile. Mel smiled broadly and left.

With her friends off to explore the Zemalian structure, Janice sighed and pulled her revolver from the holster on her hip and inspected it. Confirming each chamber in the cylinder was loaded, she glanced at her weapon a moment and returned it to her holster.

Mel followed Georg, sporting a big smile as she looked appreciatively around the site. The diverse collection of plant life made the area beautiful. A beauty she would never have known about if she weren’t on a dig with Janice, she thought, thankful for all the new experiences the archeologist shared with her.

"What kind of building is it?" She asked trailing behind Georg as they descended a grassy path to the building, still partially buried under hundreds of years of earth and wild growth.

"A temple of some sort, the altar kinda gives it away," he said with a smile, enjoying Mel’s refreshing sense of wonder and awe.

"A TEMPLE?" Mel blurted uneasily, stopping in her tracks.

"Yep," Georg answered as he climbed over a pile of rocks, pushed back some dangling ivy, and entered the temple.

Since nothing bad apparently happened to him, Mel’s curiosity won out over fear and she followed.

Pulling out a lighter from his shirt pocket, Georg lit some torches and took one from it’s receptacle on the wall. "As you can see, it is not the ornate kind of temple you usually see for the gods. . . like Aphrodite or Ares," Georg remarked, looking around the inside of the torch-lit temple. "I’d say a minor god." Georg stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"So Dick, here we are . . . in Zemal, of all places," Janice relayed with a thin smile, surprising Richard, who was crouched down in the dirt, fanning the small fire he had just started for cooking breakfast.

He looked up with a weak smile.

Pulling a folding chair out from the table, Janice’s thin smile remained in place as she sat down.

"Yeah, Zemal," he relayed nervously as he stood up. He didn’t expect Janice would want to chat with him. God, he silently moaned.

Janice grinned and pulled out a cigar, silently offering it to him.

"Uh. . . no thanks," he declined the unusually polite offer with a small wave. Janice nodded and lit her cigar up. She took her first puff and let out a long sigh.

"You know . . . " Janice broke the awkward silence, then paused a long, uncomfortable moment to puff on her cigar. "I’m still not really clear on why you are here, Dick," Janice relayed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Her eyes locked on his for a moment and she saw panic.

A strained smile emerged on his face. "I told you Janice, I really need the money . . . and truthfully, I did want to get my foot back in the archeological door, as it were."

Richard forced a chuckle. Janice joined in and chuckled. The chuckling quickly died.

"Uh huh. I can see that," Janice relayed thoughtfully and took another puff on her cigar. "It’s tough getting work these days . . . tough supporting a family," she offered with a bitter smile.

Richard cleared his throat.

"I want you to know, I appreciate you giving me work. After everything, I wasn’t sure you would," Richard relayed as he pulled out the cast iron skillet from a cardboard box of kitchen supplies, keeping his eyes on his chore.

Janice nodded and puffed on her cigar. "So, DICK, was it tough packing the supply truck?" She asked nonchalantly with a raised eyebrow. Dick swallowed hard, glancing to the truck then back to the skillet in his hands.

"You don’t look so well Dick, maybe we should go back to Athens and see a doctor or something," she offered helpfully, sitting up in her chair.

"Uh, that won’t be necessary," he replied with a cough.

"Dick, you’re coughing now and look at that sweating! I can’t have my people work when they are ill . . . and as you know, people are the most important thing to a dig," Janice smiled. ". . .worth their weight in gold."

Richard dropped the skillet.

Mel and Georg inspected the temple. "You’re right, the temple is not very ornate. . . rather bland in fact," Mel relayed, holding the rim of her glasses as she peered closely at some writing chiseled on the stone wall near a torch. "Hmmmmm. . . ." She sighed with disappointment, unable to brush away tenacious dirt caked over the lettering.

"Yeah, Dr. Covington is already THRILLED about this dig," Georg responded sarcastically, shaking his head.

"Well, she mentioned Dr. Maveros was interested in the site," Mel relayed, earning a disgusted grunt at the name. "I take it you’ve met her," Mel responded dryly.

"Yes. Once. And that was enough. It’s a crime Dr. Covington was forced to deal with HER and the University of Athens. We never had to before and I liked that just fine."

"Forced?"

"Well, Dr. Covington had one . . . backer. . . he was a private collector," Georg said uneasily. Amazed the southerner didn’t say anything, he continued. "He financed her digs and she provided him pieces for his collection. It was working out just fine until the last dig. He got really upset when she didn’t recover the artifacts he wanted on the last dig."

"What artifacts?" Mel asked, amazed that she didn’t know anything about this. But she reminded herself, she didn’t even know Janice’s favorite color was . . . .

"There was a set of Gurlan vases the collector was interested in at our last site."

"Blue with a red floral design?" Mel said weakly, remembering them vividly . . . in pieces, after she dropped them.

"Yeah. He was very anxious to get a hold of those vases. Well, because Janice broke the Gurlan vases during the last dig, he . . . . "

"What!?! JANICE broke them?" Mel repeated incredulously. "Is THAT what she told you?"

"Well, I was there when she tried to explain to the backer what happened. She told him it was a freak accident."

Mel’s stomach dropped.

"He didn’t care. He told her she was incompetent and couldn’t even handle the simple excavation of a vase. Then he said she’d never leech off of his good nature for her worthless digs ever again. Well, you could imagine, she wasn’t very pleased about that," Georg shook his head with the memory of that uncomfortable encounter.

"No . . . I should think . . . not," Mel answered weakly as she her eyes welled up. She nodded and turned from the man, feigning interest in the pile of rocks stacked next to the altar.

"Well, Miss Pappas, I’m starving," Georg announced. "Let’s see what Dr. Wright has thrown together," he suggested. "We should get a good meal in us before the workers arrive an the real work begins," he added with a smile.

"Uh . . . I’m not hungry Georg . . . I’ll just look around in here," she said feebly, still eyeing the rocks.

Georg shrugged and left the southerner alone in the temple.

Unable to contain her composure any longer, the weary raven-haired woman melted into tears. She felt so helpless, so out of control . . . everything she touched turned bad and she didn’t seem to be able to stop it. Her heart ached, thinking of the strawberry-blond woman who selflessly gave her so much . . . who she could only offer trouble. . . .

Janice and eyed Richard with new contempt. "You’ve stooped to a new low, Dick," she blurted. "Which is amazing, considering your track record."

Richard sighed, eyeing Janice’s hand that instinctively moved to rest on her revolver.

"Just give me a reason to shoot you," Janice threatened.

"I didn’t make up the reason why I needed the money, Janice," he added softly, making Janice’s eyebrows furrow with annoyance.

"So becoming a FATHER gives you permission to endanger people and break the law?" She snapped.

"So what’s your excuse?" He countered with a smirk.

Remembering her father’s lectures on the importance of reputation in the business world, the southerner silently wept, feeling the horrible ache of having caused her best friend such humiliation in front of a business associate. Her heart sank further, knowing that because of her, Janice lost a backer.

"Oh, Janice, why didn’t you just tell him it was MY fault?? Just like everything else??"

Mel cried, feeling utterly useless.

All she wanted to do was help her friend. . . like excavating those vases for her. Mel remembered bitter-sweetly, her sheer joy when Janice agreed, after her not-so-subtle begging, to let her take charge of digging them out. She remembered how, with painstaking care, she dusted and gently chipped them out of the tenacious rock. . . how Janice would grin at her and make an off-hand comment or two about the southerner’s patience putting Job to shame.

She felt so proud when she got both of the vases out intact. Proud, up until the point she excitedly jumped up from the work bench to go tell the archeologist she was finally finished, and bumped into the table. She helplessly watched as the vases fell and shattered on the ground.

Mel’s tears freely fell as she remembered how her father would kiss her forehead and tell her she shouldn’t be wasting her time with ‘menial’ chores every time she messed one up in her own, incredibly blundering way. That happened so often. . . .

Why didn’t she learn, she lamented, remembering how upset Janice looked when she walked in the tent to find the vases in tiny pieces. Mel bit her lip remembering the smaller woman swearing and tossing the small folding chair across the tent before turning and storming out of the tent.

When the southerner fearfully blurted out how sorry she was, Mel remembered Janice stopping and taking a deep breath. After what the southerner thought was an eternity, the red-headed woman finally responded over her shoulder.

"I’m sorry too, Mel . . . you didn’t deserve that." With a weary sigh, the archeologist took a step to leave but something stopped her. After a handful of the southerner’s pounding heartbeats, Janice turned towards the southerner.

"It’s a good thing you’re so patient . . . " Janice said softly, looking directly into her eyes. In the silence shared, each woman could see the other’s sorrow. Mel remembered never feeling more vulnerable in all her life . . . well, up until the moment when that devilish glint emerged in Janice’s beautiful eyes.

". . .especially since you’ll be spending the rest of the dig picking up those pieces."

Mel remembered those words with a tearful laugh that quickly dissolved into pained sobs. "Why didn’t you ever tell me how important those vases were?" Mel whispered through her tears.

Xena continued to stare at the bodies, briskly wiping away the unwanted tears that escaped from her eyes. Feeling a familiar stickiness on her fingers, she inspected them and confirmed what she already knew . . . the blood from the innocent woman was now on her hands.

Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath, struggling to gain control over her ragged emotions. She shook her head, finding it ironic that with all the blood she casually shed during her life, she could let herself get rattled over just two more . . . three, she corrected herself, counting the man they watched brutally cut down in the street.

Why did Gabrielle have to witness that, she angrily thought, remembering the horrified gasp escaping from her love.

"Damn you, Bayentes," she cursed as her eyes drifted down to the soldier she strangled. You’ve learned well, Xena noted with the fear already embedded in her heart growing. Just how many others are as intent on seeking revenge, she wondered as her eyes watered.

The warrior’s head dropped into her hands as she silently fought with the tears that were not easily conquered.

Hearing foot steps, her teary face popped up from her hands. Looking around the temple, she couldn’t see anyone but she knew she wasn’t alone. She could feel it.

"Georg, is that you?" She called out nervously. Not wanting to be caught crying, Mel quickly wiped her tears.

She heard another step in the darkness.

"Georg!" Mel blurted out with annoyance, getting no response. She panicked slightly, considering it might be the archeologist.

"Janice? Is that you??" She asked uneasily, squinting into the blackness.

Hearing another step made Mel almost start crying again, not from heartache, but fear.

"I am not interested in games, SHOW yourself!" Mel went over to the torch and pulled it from the wall. "I’m warning you, I’m armed!" Mel called out, looking at her torch then into the darkness, and attempted a menacing stance.

Hearing another step, she swiftly unsheathed her sword and turned to face the noise behind her, pointing the tip at his throat.

"How would you like to join them?" Xena said coolly with a menacing gaze.

He glanced at the two bodies and sighed. "No thank you," he responded and displayed his empty hands. "Are you ok?" He asked, noting the tear-stained blood smeared on her face and chest.

Her eyes suspiciously narrowed.

"It is not healthy to sneak up on a woman with a sword," Xena relayed, glancing over his simple white tunic and brown pants. Noting he had no weapon on him, she relaxed slightly.

"You can put your. . . weapon. . . away. I didn’t mean to startle you," a man called out with a sincere voice.

"Wh. . . who are you?" Mel asked uneasily, holding the torch out towards the man emerging from the darkness. She wiped her eyes again nervously and tried to get a good look him. He didn’t seem like a threat, she considered, eyeing his plain white tunic and brown pants. No weapons, she observed, relaxing slightly.

"You look upset," he noted, dusting off a spot on the floor next to the altar. "Is there anything I can do?" He asked sincerely, sitting down.

Still clenching her torch, Mel uneasily glanced around the temple then back at the man, surprised at his question.

"I . . . uh. . .No . . . thank you . . . there’s nothing you can do," Mel said with polite sadness. Her head hung as her eyes dropped to the ground.

"You can put down your weapon," he informed her, looking at the tip of her sword still pointing to his throat, then the warrior on the other end. "I was traveling by and heard the commotion," he informed her. "Are you ok?"

"Why do you keep ASKING that?" Xena snapped angrily as she lowered her sword. "How do you think I am, after seeing an innocent woman’s throat cut by an enemy of mine just because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time!?!" She relayed angrily, motioning towards the bodies on the floor.

"I’m sorry," he said softly, noticing the pain in her blood-stained face. "It can’t be easy," he mentioned as he stepped back to retrieve a water skin and rag from his bag on the altar.

A single sharp laugh from the warrior relayed her agreement.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked, holding out the rag and water skin towards her.

She eyed the offering a moment, then the man.

"Sure, why don’t you take care of Bayentes and his army for me," Xena suggested, sheathing her sword. "That would be a really big help . . . thanks," she added, plastering on a smile.

"I’m afraid that is a little beyond what I can do," he said sadly.

Xena’s smile drained away. She took the rag and water skin.

"Seems we have the same fear," she responded weakly.

"Sounds like you’ve given up," he noted with concern.

"I . . .who ARE you?" Mel blurted uneasily, finding it odd this total stranger seemed so sincere in his desire to help.

"Depends on who you talk to . . . . " He shrugged. "Why were you crying?" He asked sympathetically.

Melinda wiped her eyes again, sighing wearily. "I . . . I have caused so much trouble for my friend. I . . . ." She started to tear up again but quickly turned from him with the convenient excuse of returning the torch to it’s receptacle on the wall.

"What could possibly be so bad to cause such a beautiful woman to be so unhappy?" He said with a sincere smile, making an agitated Mel turn abruptly towards him.

"LOOK, I don’t know WHO you are, since we STILL have not been properly introduced, but I am NOT interested in discussing my problems with a stranger. And although I appreciate your concern, there is NOTHING you can do for me," she blurted in a polite southern huff.

"Don’t be too sure," he smiled warmly.

"You’re crazy or you’re drunk. And either way, you are in no position to offer me help, even if we HAD been properly introduced AND I was inclined to accept your . . . gracious . . . offer," Mel responded crisply, amazed she was having this conversation.

"I don’t think I’m crazy and I haven’t had a drink in a very long time," he mentioned with an easy smile. "I just want to help you."

"Help me, you want to HELP me?" Mel responded in disbelief, pulling off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. "Why?!? You don’t even. . ."

"Let’s just say, I remember a time long ago when I had a chance to really help - I didn’t. I was too afraid of what would happen to me," he said somberly, his eyes dropping to the ground remembering the heartache that followed. "I promised myself I’d make amends . . . someday," he relayed then looked up at the beautiful woman. "And here you are!" He grinned.

Mel stared at him blankly. Not smelling alcohol, she concluded the nice man was just crazy.

"Tell me what would make you happy," he encouraged her.

"If I do, then what?? Do you have a magic wand or something?" She smirked with amusement.

"Well, no," he replied. "Although one might help, I’m a bit rusty," he chuckled. "There hasn’t been much need for my help for a long time," he added with a frown, looking around the partially buried, sparse temple of a ‘minor’ god. "But I’m game!!" He blurted quickly with a broad smile.

Mel chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Well, if anything, you’ve managed to cheer me up for the moment," Mel relayed, her chuckle dissolving into a sigh.

"That’s a start," he relayed happily. "Tell me what would make you happy," he repeated, seeing her eyes roll. "What do you have to lose?" He added sincerely.

She sighed and laughed softly at his good point. "All right, fine . . . why not?" She relayed with a breathy exhale and shake of her head. Then perhaps he’ll go away, she considered hopefully.

Her answer brought a delighted smile to the man’s face.

"I’d be happy if I wasn’t so . . . accident prone," she admitted to the eager-to-please crazy man.

He looked at her, intently listening and thoughtfully nodding as she paced.

"It’s amazing, really, how uncoordinated I AM," she added, her southern accent punctuating her annoyance more than she intended.

"Did you know that I’m a descendent of one of the most skilled warriors in history?"

She gave a sharp laugh and started to pace. "Some descendent I turned out to be. I bet HER tents never fell down," Mel grimaced, shaking her head at her stupid mistake.

Absently, she touched her bare wrist and stopped her pacing with a sad sigh.

"And I suspect she was never late to an important battle . . . ," Mel relayed guiltily, remembering the trouble her tardiness brought Janice with that unpleasant Dr. Maveros.

"And I am pretty sure SHE never accidently whipped her friend in the . . . ," she paused and cleared her throat, deciding elaboration on that particular incident unnecessary.

"All I am is a walking accident waiting to happen," she blurted, struggling against her tears as she remembered the vases fall. "I don’t know how Janice has survived my presence THIS long," Mel relayed with annoyance. "Let alone tolerated it," she added softly.

"If I were only more like my ancestor. . . a woman of many skills as the scrolls say," Mel sighed and shook her head. ". . . . wouldn’t that be a nice change."

"You think having more SKILLS . . . would make you happy?" He asked curiously, scratching his chin.

"Happy? I would actually be a help to my friend without causing a major catastrophe. Now THERE’s a thought!" Mel blurted sarcastically.

"Are you really SURE that would make you happy?" He asked again, making Mel roll her eyes.

"You asked me and I told you," she snapped with annoyance. "Now, if you’ll excuse me," Mel blurted crisply, standing erect with her head held high. "I have other things to attend to," she relayed curtly with a polite smile and turned to leave.

"But what will you do?" He asked softly, watching her pour the water into the rag.

"Whatever I have to," Xena said bluntly, wiping the damp rag over her skin to remove the red stains.

The man nodded thoughtfully. "Many will die," he noted with a sigh, looking back down at the bodies.

"Yes. Many will," she answered with an icy candidness which melted seeing his genuine sadness.

"Look, I wish things were different, you have no idea," she admitted stiffly, with a pained look in her eyes, which dropped to the reddened rag in her hand. Clearing her throat, she took a sharp, composure-gathering breath. "But they’re not."

"OK," he called out, stopping her exit. She turned towards him impatiently with a questioning eyebrow.

"If that’s what you want, Melinda Pappas," he said with a sigh. "But mortals tend to waste time worrying about what they can’t do . . . instead of enjoying what they can," he relayed and waved his hand and disappeared.

"People will die . . . whether I stop Bayentes or not," Xena informed him bitterly. "But I WILL stop him," she responded with angry confidence.

He nodded at the troubled warrior, who sighed and inspected herself for blood.

Finding no more, Xena held out the water skin to return it to its owner as he reached for it.

Hearing the bard call for her, the Warrior Princess glanced towards the entrance of the temple.

The water skin fell onto the floor.

The raven-haired woman’s eyes widened with surprise.

Chapter 21 - FINE, JUST FINE

The warrior rolled her eyes and sighed wearily as she knelt down to pick up the water skin. She paused a moment, feeling a little out of sorts and put a hand out on the floor to steady herself.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, still feeling odd, but shook it off before standing back up with the water skin.

"That question is getting annoying," Xena responded with thin smile as she handed him back the skin, more carefully so he wouldn’t drop it again.

He shook his head with a small chuckle at the warrior’s tough attitude as he accepted the water skin.

Xena heard the bard call for her again. "In here, Gabrielle," Xena answered, turning to see the bard cautiously enter the temple with her staff at the ready.

Hearing the man’s foot steps as he walked away, she turned back to him with small smile. "Thanks for the . . . ," she blurted but stopped, discovering he was gone. The warrior’s eyes darted around the temple for the quickly exiting man.

"Xena," Gabrielle called with relief as she walked towards her warrior. "I’m done checking on the wounded, got Staveros to inventory the weapons, if you could call them that, and I have the militia and their wives waiting for . . . ," the bard rambled off quickly but stopped abruptly as her eyes dropped to the two bodies.

"Oh Gods," Gabrielle gasped softly. "Are you . . . ."

"The soldier killed her, I killed him," Xena explained plainly. "I’m sorry . . . ," Xena added weakly.

"Sorry?? For what?" Gabrielle asked in confusion moving closer to her warrior, who sighed.

"That you had to see this, that you are in danger. . . that you," Xena blurted finding it extremely easy to find things to be sorry for.

"Xena," Gabrielle interrupted harshly. "You’ve said it will be rough. You know I’m not thrilled with that and I know you feel guilty, but Xena, let’s not waste time now with apologies and guilt. . . . You and I have enough to deal with, with Bayentes and his army. OK?" Gabrielle snapped and eyed her warrior.

Xena raised her eyebrow. "Being right twice in two days, Gabrielle . . . you going for a record or something?"

"For THAT, I’ll let you apologize to me . . . later," Gabrielle smiled thinly and turned to leave the temple.

The warrior watched the bard exit with a small smile. As she started to leave, Xena glanced at the bodies again, took a deep breath and followed the bard.

"Sir, you asked that you be informed when the attack was all over," the new first lieutenant nervously informed Bayentes, as he entered the warlord’s tent.

"It’s over," the red-headed lieutenant added, earning a glance from the warlord, who just finished bathing and was putting his pants and shirt on. "She killed them all with that round disc. . . thing," the lieutenant blurted, upset with the senseless defeat.

"Chakrum," Bayentes informed him as he put his armor back on with the help of his servants.

"Huh?" The lieutenant asked then continued seeing the impatient glare of the warlord. "Uh . . . Anyway, I wanted to tell you I have the remaining men in camp standing by, ready for another attack. Xena should be tired by now, I thought a staggered attack with two or more platoons would surely . . . ."

Bayentes looked at him and blinked a couple of times. "You thought?" He interrupted his eager lieutenant, who realized his mistake . . . too late.

In the main street, Xena assessed the ragtag group of Zemalian men and women. A few men in the militia had swords but the rest carried shovels, pitch forks, clubs, and one had his water pitcher.

Xena sighed. Gabrielle bit her lip.

"It’s useless, Xena, how can we win against an army?" One older man asked.

"You don’t need to win . . . just survive," Xena responded coolly, looking directly into his eyes, which broke his gaze as he nodded.

"You, come here," Xena called out, making the young man with the water pitcher look around then at the Warrior Princess curiously. "Yeah you, water boy, come here," she clarified.

He left the curious group and approached her nervously.

"Nice pitcher," she mentioned with a thin smile. "Don’t you have anything else? A pitch fork or . . . ," she softly asked the embarrassed man, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at his pitcher, shrugged, and shook his head no.

"How about this?" Gabrielle suggested, holding out a long plank of hard wood for the warrior to assess. While not having a smooth surface like a finished staff, the squared strip of wood could be used as one.

The approving nod from the warrior as she took the wood made the bard smile.

"Here, try this instead," Xena relayed as she swapped weapons with the curious water boy, who grabbed the wood as he handed over the water pitcher. He handled the wood in his two hands, getting the feel of it and smiled.

The warrior glanced over to the smiling bard, who suddenly stopped smiling when the man accidently whacked Xena in the arm with his new stick. The Warrior Princess’ eyebrows furrowed as she slowly turned towards the now very nervous man, who considered he should have stuck with the water pitcher.

The group of Zemalians gasped nervously, hoping the Warrior Princess wouldn’t kill him for his mistake.

The sting to Xena’s arm was minor compared to the sting to her ego. Wake UP warrior, no time to be dozing you idiot, Xena silently scolded herself as she saw a number of uneasy looks in the crowd.

"See, a much more dangerous weapon than a water pitcher," Xena joked to a relieved group, making them chuckle.

Gabrielle wasn’t chuckling.

"OK, then," Xena relayed loudly. "Let’s start with the basics . . . blocking, I want you to pair off," Xena ordered.

As the people paired off, Gabrielle came to Xena’s side. "Why did you let him hit you?" Gabrielle asked softly, inspecting and touching her arm.

Xena shrugged it off with a sly grin. "Distracted by a beautiful bard?" The answer didn’t get the smile the Warrior Princess was expecting.

"Now what?" Staveros called out loudly from the back of the waiting group.

Xena looked at the pairs. "Gabrielle and I will demonstrate a blocking move, then you and your partner will try it with your weapons," she announced, then looked at her bard with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you going to continue to be evasive?" Gabrielle asked softly with a thin smile.

"Why don’t I be defense?" Xena answered her. Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"Fine," Gabrielle responded with irritation as she backed up and gracefully whirled her staff around her.

Xena grinned at her bard’s flair for showmanship and reached to unsheathe the sword on her back. Instead of the grand flourish Gabrielle expected, Xena pulled her sword which got caught in it’s sheath. After a second pull, the sword was finally freed. Xena eyed the sword in her hand with a furrowed brow. Her weapon felt oddly out of balance. Perhaps she needed to hone the edge down, she considered, but curiously noted no burrs or nicks on the blade.

Xena looked up uneasily, suddenly feeling all eyes on her, including a concerned bard’s.

"Ok, we’ll start with basic blocks . . . a swordsman will have a number of attack strokes, but a few basic blocks will be sufficient to counter most of them."

"Most?" A woman blurted out with concern.

Xena eyed her.

"Just asking . . . " The woman added with a shrug and kept quiet.

"Ok, let’s start with the over head attack," Xena announced loudly and turned to a grinning Gabrielle, who’s staff quickly descended, until it hit Xena’s head.

"Ow," Xena yelped as her hand shot up to her throbbing head, almost as fast as Gabrielle’s hand shot up to her gaping mouth.

"Xena . . . ," the shocked bard exhaled as Xena shook off the blow.

Plastering on a smile, Xena looked to Gabrielle then the group. "As Gabrielle and I have just demonstrated. . . ," Xena announced loudly. ". . . blocking the over head blows would be preferable to getting hit," Xena relayed, rubbing her head with a grimace and getting amused laughs from the group.

Gabrielle wasn’t laughing.

"SO . . . if Gabrielle will make another over head strike, I’ll show you that block," Xena relayed to the crowd, turning back to the bard. "How about a little more slowly so they can see . . . my Queen," Xena relayed softly to her worthy opponent with a small, respectful nod of the head.

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked the bard, who looked uneasily between the waiting group and warrior. "Uh Gabrielle? Any day now . . . " Xena blurted, making the bard nod hesitantly.

Slowly, the bard raised the end of her weapon and brought it overhead of the warrior. In a purposeful but unthreatening stroke, the bard brought down the staff.

Xena lifted her sword into a block position, feeling a bit sluggish. The day was catching up to her, she considered. Sloppily deflecting the blow, Xena allowed the staff to slide down her sword, towards the hilt.

Realizing the impending collision with Xena’s hand, Gabrielle lifted the end of her staff in time to avoid it.

"There . . . now, face your partner and try," Xena relayed to the group, who followed her instructions. "Slowly at first," Xena added, with an accusing glance at her bard before walking around between the pairs.

"Not bad," Xena encouraged a couple of people.

Gabrielle also helped a few pairs but found her attention focused on her warrior. The bard uneasily watched as Xena returned her sword to its sheath, after the second try.

The group tenaciously drilled on the basic blocks knowing their lives likely depended on them. However, there was a loud sigh of relief when they were given a break by the Warrior Task Master.

A very concerned Gabrielle was finally able to pull her warrior aside.

"Are you ok??" Gabrielle blurted nervously, looking around at the scattering people.

Xena smirked. "I’m FINE, Gabrielle. You don’t have to worry about my head, you know it’s too hard to really get hurt," Xena grinned, which faded seeing Gabrielle still upset.

"What’s wrong, are you feeling ok?" Xena asked, placing a concerned hand on her bard’s forehead, which was quickly swatted away.

"XENA! What about that guy hitting you with the stick?" Gabrielle asked with great agitation, making Xena uneasy.

"No big deal Gabrielle, no splinters SEE?" Xena smirked, pointing to her arm. "I think after that battle with the three-headed hydra, you shouldn’t worry about me surviving a little smack on the arm," Xena answered with an amused chuckle.

Gabrielle groaned.

"Come with me . . . " Gabrielle snapped, grabbing the warrior’s arm and pulling her with her.

"Now??" Xena asked with surprise, looking around at the town’s people.

"Xena!" Gabrielle blurted with annoyance. "I need to show you something . . . in the stables . . . NOW."

The curious warrior followed the upset bard to the stables. The stress was finally catching up to her, Xena considered sadly. She couldn’t blame Gabrielle. This was not a good situation.

Spotting a lone man pull out a brush and start to groom his horse, the bard immediately ordered him out of the stables.

Wisely, he quickly gathered his belongings. He quickly exited, finding unneeded encouragement from the bard who followed on his heals. Once outside the stables, the man turned to find the red headed woman shutting the large stable doors behind him.

Now alone, except for a couple nervous horses, Gabrielle turned back to the warrior, finding a questioning eyebrow raised.

Whirling her staff in a flourish, the bard attacked Xena, who reflexively lifted her arms which only enabled the bard to strike her side. It wasn’t a soft tap.

"OW. Gabrielle!! What are you DOING??" Xena blurted out with surprise as she rubbed the sore side.

Gabrielle paused a silent moment with a variety of emotions crossing her face before continuing her attack. Xena quickly stepped backwards, dodging Gabrielle’s next strike.

"What are you DOING, Gabrielle!" Xena grabbed her sword and pulled it awkwardly out of its sheath and attempted to block the rapid blows with her unusually unresponsive weapon. She managed to stop a few, but most slipped past her sluggish defenses. Between the occasional blocks and more frequent stinging strikes, the Warrior Princess continued to back up, finally stumbling over a saddle and down onto the hay-covered ground.

The stunned Warrior Princess looked up to the emotional bard, who’s world seemed to be crumbling at her feet.

"NOW tell me your FINE!" Gabrielle snapped.

"When will breakfast be ready?" Georg asked, joining Janice and Richard at the cooking fire.

"Georg, here," Janice responded, tossing her truck keys to him. "Take my truck and get Mel back to Athens, NOW," she blurted with an urgency that made Georg know better than to argue.

"You got it Dr. Covington," Georg blurted and started to leave but froze when he spotted a truck in the distance. He eyed the archeologist and Dr. Wright.

"My friends are here," Richard relayed smugly. "Driving off now might just offend them," he relayed with amusement, drawing an annoyed look from the archeologist.

"Georg, go into the temple and wait there with Mel. And stay out of sight, these men are not coming to work," she added gravely. "Go!"

Georg ran back to the temple as fast as he could.

Janice eyed Richard with an intense, almost crazed look in her eyes that he had never seen before.

"You say one word to those men about either of them, Dick . . . I’ll kill you." Janice spoke her threat slowly and passionately. She was serious. And Richard, who had heard threats from Janice before, knew it.

George quickly descended the steps and entered the temple.

"Miss Pappas??" He called out urgently. "Miss Pappas," he repeated spotting her sitting on the ground next to the altar. "We’ve got some . . . are you ok?" He asked noting her confused expression when she looked up at him.

"Georg?" She asked softly. "People just don’t disappear . . . do they?" She questioned him calmly and pushed her glasses up.

"Uh . . . not unless they are like my Uncle Orestes and running from the law. Why? What’s wrong Miss Pappas??" Georg found her looking around the temple then back at him.

"Oh nothing," Melinda smiled and laughed weakly as she stood up. "Georg, why are you out of breath?" She asked curiously.

The truck pulled up and stopped a few feet from the archeologist and Richard, causing a cloud of dust. Three armed men jumped out of the drivers cab and scanned the area as they approached Janice and Richard. They all had rifles. As they came closer, Janice also noted the handguns on their belts. The largest man of the group, who sported a beard, had an extra belt of ammunition draped over his chest, Janice noted with a heavy sigh.

"Real subtle," Janice blurted to Richard.

"The men with the big guns don’t have to be, Janice," Richard relayed with a smirk.

"You Wright?" The beaded man asked gruffly. The two other armed men continued to scan the area for trouble.

"Usually," Richard answered with an amused grin, which faded when the bearded man stared at him and spit next to his feet.

Janice concluded with annoyance that if things turned really sour, she wouldn’t be able to take out all three without them returning some rounds. However, her hand still casually rested on top of her revolver on her belt, in case Dick continued to be ‘amusing.’

"Is the broad with you??" He asked, eyeing the red-head with interest as he took a cigar out, bit off the tip and spit it out. Cuban, Janice noted.

"NO," Richard blurted quickly, receiving a glare from Janice. The bearded man eyed them with amusement as his two henchmen pointed their guns the archeologist’s way.

"She found out about this . . . transaction . . . and wanted a piece of the action. Hard to refuse when a gun is pointing at you," Richard blurted quickly.

"Ass-hole," Janice snarled at Richard as one of the men stepped up to her to take her revolver away. As she pulled it from the holster, Janice paused a moment and eyed the three men.

The second man raised his machine gun and aimed it at her head to provide her more encouragement to cooperate. She begrudgingly handed her weapon over with a plastered on smile.

"Janice, Janice, Janice . . . I counted on your soft spot still being there," Dick relayed shaking his head. "And even after everything, you’re still blinded by love and a sense of loyalty. You really are a sentimental f. . ."

"Shut up, ass-hole," the large man interrupted impatiently. "Where is it?"

The bearded man not only had good taste in cigars, he was observant too, the archeologist thought with a small smile.

"In the truck, all 300 bars," Richard said uneasily, not appreciating the tone of his business associate.

The large man whistled and five other armed men jumped out of the back of the brown truck. Janice sighed. Yep, she thought, this was not her week.

"Get the gold," he commanded and lit his cigar.

"Uh. . . ," Richard said uneasily and cleared his throat, making the man look up from his cigar.

"Yeah, ass-hole?"

"The payment? It’s, uh, 600,000 Drachmas . . . That was the agreed upon price," Richard relayed weakly, making Janice shake her head.

What an idiot, she thought with a sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose and nonchalantly scanned the area for signs of Georg or Mel. Thankfully, she didn’t see either of them.

"There’s been a change of plans," he relayed with a smile.

"Change of plans? What change of plans??" Richard asked uneasily, looking over at Janice, who rolled her eyes.

"If you play with fire, Dick . . . you ought to know, you can get burned," she explained to him with a thin smile and glanced over to the five men sorting through the crates in the back of the supply truck.

The bearded man chuckled. "Sounds like you’ve played with fire yourself, honey," he answered. Janice looked at him and smiled unenthusiastically.

"It’s not here!" One man blurted as he and the four other men frantically double checked all the boxes.

"What’s going on ass-hole?" The man blurted as he pulled out his pistol and pointed it at Richard’s head.

"I don’t understand . . . I loaded the crates on the truck before we drove here!!" Richard blurted, sweat building up on his forehead which he dabbed with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.

"Well, I don’t see it," a mustached man blurted through a yawn as he jumped out of the back and scratched his head.

"Let ME see!!" Richard rushed over to the truck and climbed in, and frantically searched the boxes. He quickly concluded they were right, the boxes did not contain the precious metal.

"YOU! Where did you put it??" Richard glared at Janice, who sighed and silently shook her head.

"We are not leaving without the gold . . . or somebody’s hide," the bearded man coolly informed Richard.

"Janice, you’ve GOT to tell them where you’ve put the gold!!" Richard blurted in panic.

"What makes you think I did anything with the gold, Dick?" Janice asked calmly.

"I think Ass-hole here is right, and you know something about it . . . spill the beans, honey . . . or I’ll shoot you," the bearded man threatened, aiming his pistol at Janice, who stared directly into his eyes.

"What . . . what did you see out there?" Melinda asked nervously when Georg came back from his quick scouting trip.

"A group of men with guns. Eight total . . . they all had guns," Georg informed her.

"We have to do something," Melinda announced to Georg, who shook his head no.

". . . we can’t just sit her and do NOTHING!" She countered with annoyance.

"Dr. Covington said to wait here, Miss Pappas," Georg explained. "She knows how to handle these things . . . " Georg relayed confidently.

A shot rung out, echoing through the temple.

"Good Lord," Melinda gasped and rushed to the temple door.

"Miss Pappas, NO! Dr. Covington would never forgive me if something happened to you," Georg blurted fearfully, making the upset southerner pause and turn towards him abruptly.

"But something might have just happened to HER!" Mel snapped.

"If it did, there is nothing we can do now . . . if it didn’t, we’re not going to be any help if we get captured," Georg reasoned.

"God Damn! You’ve got brass balls, don’t you honey?" The large man looked between his smoking pistol and the archeologist who still stood, eyeing him coolly. "I guess threatening to shoot ass-hole here, won’t make you talk either," he asked with a smirk.

"Only to thank you," Janice relayed, making the large man chuckle. Richard’s eyebrows furrowed.

"A couple of love birds, aye?" The large man joked to Richard, who was too nervous to say anything.

"Ok, boys, fan out and search the area, that gold couldn’t have gotten too far," he called out as he walked to the tents. The bearded man entered one tent for a moment and quickly finished his unsuccessful search. Exiting the tent, he eyed Janice and Richard, wearily shook his head, then entered the second tent.

What now . . . What if they find Mel, Janice’s mind raced. At least with them spread out, there’s a better chance of taking them out, she considered.

"Janice, PLEASE tell them . . . or they’ll kill us," Richard pleaded softly, nervously eyeing the bearded man entering a tent.

"Right now the only thing keeping us alive, you idiot, is the fact they don’t have the gold," Janice snapped.

"You two, shut up and get over here," the bearded man at the tent flap beckoned them with his pistol as he puffed on his cigar.

"What are we going to do?" Richard asked in quiet panic.

"Go over there," Janice responded calmly, pointing to the bearded man with the pistol.

"I’m sorry I had to do that, Xena," Gabrielle said guiltily, kneeling down next to her stunned warrior who was still on the stable floor. "But it was the only way I could think of showing you . . . ."

"I can’t fight . . . I can’t . . . I, " Xena relayed hollowly, still in shock. "Gabrielle. . . what if he drugged the water . . . my sluggishness, that would explain my sluggishness . . . maybe he drugged the water." The warrior quickly grasped for an explanation.

"Xena, if he did, others would be feeling the effects too. . . I feel fine. . . well . . . relatively speaking," Gabrielle relayed wearily. "Do you think Ares . . . ?" Gabrielle suggested hesitantly.

"He wouldn’t do that, he wants to see me fight. . . not get slaughtered," Xena responded, then her eyes darted nervously around the stables.

"What am I going to do? Bayentes is out there waiting," Xena relayed quickly, fear evident in her voice. "I can’t even protect myself anymore, let alone these poor people . . . or you, oh Gabrielle," Xena blurted, starting to do what Gabrielle had never seen the Warrior Princess do . . . hyperventilate. "What am I . . . "

"Xena," Gabrielle interrupted.

"What am I . . . ," Xena blurted again, gasping.

"XENA!" Gabrielle shook the warrior by the shoulders, stopping her rambling, and looked her in the eye.

"WE will think of something. Right now, only you and I know about this. I think it will be best to keep it that way," Gabrielle relayed firmly. Her heart ached seeing the Warrior Princess look so unsettled, so nervous. But she had to be strong now . . . for both of them.

"XENA! Get a grip," Gabrielle shouted as she shook the warrior’s shoulders. Gabrielle’s hands moved to hold the warrior’s face. "Look at me, Xena," she ordered, holding her face firmly.

The warrior’s nervous eyes were finally forced to focus on the piercing green eyes gazing down at her. "I have faith, Xena. . . we WILL get through this . . . together," Gabrielle stated with such conviction that the Warrior Princess almost believed her.

The bard pulled the warrior’s head into her chest and hugged her protectively, stroking her hair.

"Gabrielle," Xena exhaled, clinging to her bard as tears escaped.

Continued...Part 4

Return to The Bard's Corner