“c1″> 

“c1″>"The danger for the assistant is only to her life
not to her soul. I’m old; sometimes I’m weary of life.
I’m willing to take the risk, and you will accept my help.
Let’s get started."

“c1″> 

The old
Amazon exuded such an aura of authority not even the astonished
Queen dared questioning her further.

“c1″> 

“c1″> 

x x x x
x

“c1″> 

“c1″> 

Aside
Gabrielle’s bed and a second cot nearby, the infirmary was
empty, all the other patients temporarily having been moved to the
dining hut. Xena tossed the now damp blankets covering
Gabrielle’s body on the floor and stripped her as far as the
broken limbs allowed. She took off her own clothing and positioned
the brazier at the foot of the bed. Soon some of the freshly
harvested herbs were burning in the fire; she added an assortment
of roots from Anara’s supplies and prepared a tea with some
others, which she gulped down.

“c1″> 

Sitting
cross-legged on the empty bed, she closed her right hand over
Gabrielle’s left and put her left on top of the young
woman’s heart. Xena closed her eyes and consciously slowed
down her heartbeat while the silver haired Amazon for the first
time ran a sponge dripping with herb flavoured water all over her
body to prevent it from drying out. The journey really began with
Xena’s upper body slowly rocking back and forth, her mouth
forming silent words.

“c1″> 

Her
eyes flew open. The former Conqueror found herself sitting on a
rough plain with grass more yellow than green. There were no sounds
at all, not of man, not of animal. There was no wind, and the light
was somewhere between dusk and nightfall conveying the impression
of timelessness and imminent danger. The heart in her chest was
pounding fast, and she knew this was her guide to get to
Gabrielle.

“c1″> 

She
started walking and her heart accelerated its pace. Soon her body
was covered with sweat, the heartbeat now reverberating in her
ears. She continued on. She began to stumble, and fell, and resumed
her walk, once, twice. She was exhausted and thirsty, and every
muscle in her body was aching, reminding her of the day she had to
run the gauntlet.

“c1″> 

“c1″>'Don’t go there,' said a voice familiar
and strange at once. 'Fulfill your destiny, Warrior
Princess.'

“c1″> 

For the
third time she scrambled to her feet, her stiff movement fuelled by
willpower alone. And then she saw it: a tent decorated with the old
language of mankind, the language taught by Prometheus and
forgotten for hundreds of generations, unknown even to the most
powerful of shamans and priestesses. She somehow knew it was a
warning but she also knew that she still had to
enter.