It was a motley army, Theodorus had noted as he rode down a soggy hillside under a leaden sky and into its midst. Standing in a tent with a handful of lieutenants and a dozen notorious warlords, he knew why -- each soldier had the stamp of a different leader, each of whom valued different qualities.
Theodorus glanced about the group. Flaavus, twenty years of nothing-fancy, fist and mace sacking under his belt; Elaria, a bear-like mountain woman whose specialty was guerrilla warfare; Timus, a haughty, mustached cavalry man. Theodorus tried hard to maintain a rein on their wild egos.
"It's not that I don't admire your reputation, Theodorus," spoke Galteus, a tall, brawny warrior with arms like tree trunks, a sword-reach so long his well-displayed flesh showed almost no battle-scars, and a reputation for leading by being the first fighter into battle. "You've cut an efficient swath through the north country for the last few months. But losing seven hundred out of two thousand at Pharsalus today is... troubling."
"It was unusual," Theodorus said. "And that town's always been a difficult attack."
"And Xena was leading their militia..." Alteus spoke up in his general's defense, "we didn't plan for that."
"Just my point," Galteus said.
Flaavus' voice was a heavy growl. "That's what bothers me. You've picked up some bad enemies."
"Callisto's been after you since the problem in Maelon, I heard," Elaria said.
Theodorus' tone was firm. "One do-gooder and an ex-warlord will not stop our march on Athens. We have almost twelve thousand in our ranks."
"That's the wrong pair to have against you though," said Dalttes, a dark-skinned former sailor from Egypt. "And my scouts say there's an army coming to greet us from the south, maybe a couple thousand strong."
"If that army is here to help them..." Flaavus leaned, as was his habit, on his mace like a cane. "Well, maybe the rumors of her turning good are just rumors. Let's just say that if I were to take my army on the same field as one with Xena and a couple thousand of her followers, I'm not certain who I'd be more likely to follow if things got rough."
A satiny voice came from the deeper shadows of the tent. "I hope that would be me, Flaavus." Velasca stepped into the light and to the center of the imperfect circle. "After all, I don't take kindly to turncoat generals."
Theodorus tried to hide his smile at the ashen expressions around the tent. Galteus was the first to recover.
"Velasca..." he said smoothly, "I'm guessing some rumors ARE just rumors, like the ones of your death."
She smiled a toothy smile at him. "I've never been to Tartarus, if that's what you mean." She raised her hands and sparks flickered from finger to finger. "But I can certainly bring it here."
Velasca pinned each warlord in turn with her otherworldly eyes. "Let me put all those rumors to rest. I am not dead, but I am no longer mortal. My followers call me the God of Chaos... and," her lips twisted wryly, "there are three acceptable sacrifices you may make to me: the head of Gabrielle, Queen of the Amazons, the head of Xena, Warrior Princess, or the head of Callisto, Avenger of Cirra."
Parmus, a one-eyed and heavily scarred warlord originally from Gaul, spat. "I don't have to listen to no talk about false gods..." he stood and headed for the tent's exit. Halfway there, his feet were no longer touching the ground and his body was twitching in the air, touched by no one. After a brief gurgling scream, his head snapped loudly sideways and he felt limply to the floor.
"Anyone who wants to bring me those heads," Velasca continued to the captive audience, "you'll get your chance tomorrow on the battlefield. With the support of Ares, and of me, you and your soldiers WILL defeat Xena and her friends. And then there will be no one to stop our march on Athens!"
Even the feigned enthusiasm was loud, Theodorus thought. He doubted there would be any defectors tomorrow.
"Was I lying?"
Ares, chin on fist on knee in his high-backed throne, looked up. "About?"
The God of Chaos stepped forward, casting lengthy sidelong glances at his maidservants until they withdrew. "Your support."
He smiled, "You know battle is my favorite cause. Of course they have my support."
Velasca slipped around behind the throne, her fingers touching Ares' hair, one hand playing with his ear. "Do I?" her expression was guarded.
Ares furrowed his brow. "I've protected you from the wrath of the other gods until now, haven't I?"
"Until?" she squeezed his earlobe gently.
"Poor choice of words."
Coming around before him, Velasca pulled Ares to his feet, her arms slipping over his shoulders. She looked deeply into his eyes. "I'll say. Callisto can't stand in my way when I'm this close." She leaned in, her lips near to his. "I need to know you'll help me when I have to face her again."
"Against the two of us she wouldn't stand a chance," he said.
With a devilish smile Velasca pulled away as his lips sought hers. She slipped out of his embrace, turning and stepping away.
"Still, you've gotta admire that there's always--" he tapped his temple, "--SOMETHING going on up there with her. I'd love to know how she pulled off godhood again."
"Again?" Velasca looked over her shoulder at him.
He looked at her. "Don't you think your first concern should be getting Theodorus ready to face Xena?"
"With Callisto out of the way I can take care of Xena during the battle. I've beaten her before."
"Aren't we confident!" he mocked. "I wouldn't underestimate the Warrior Princess, Velasca."
The God of Chaos stepped toward him slowly, eyes narrowed. "You still have a soft spot for Xena, don't you, Ares? She abandoned you."
He smiled. "Yeah, but she was fun while she was around."
"I don't like this. Xena's trouble, Ares."
"Look who's talking?"
"And Callisto has never done anything but fight you, like her father -- your brother -- and you say you ADMIRE her?" Velasca stood before him, hands on her hips.
Ares flashed her a dark look. "Relax, Velasca. And hold up your end of the exchange."
With a last bitter look, Velasca vanished.
The God of War watched where she had stood. "Hold up your end, before I start thinking I got the raw end of mine."
Gabrielle was getting used to the tingling sensation of energy coming off Callisto's skin where she touched it, and the feeling of floating while riding atop Whirlwind behind the goddess. She was long past the irony of feeling so safe and comfortable clinging to the woman who, in another world, had tormented and tried to kill her so many times, while the woman she had loved so strongly before she loved still but -- almost -- feared as well. Instead, as the three left Pharsalus and, by the direction of the sinking sun, traveled southeast, the bard's thoughts had been mulling over fate and things meant-to-be.
Xena's fate was entwined with her own, in any past. That much was sure. Gabrielle knew that as well from what the Warrior Princess had told her of that other altered past, where Xena had not become a warrior.
But something else intrigued her. Was Callisto's life linked to her own as well? In the two pasts Gabrielle remembered, Callisto was destined to be a warrior. Her life was entangled in each with that of Hercules and Xena -- and, therein, with the bard's own. Gabrielle thought about that other fate, from Xena's tale. What was Callisto's life in it? Without Xena destroying her village, as here, Cirra had still seen its end, and for Callisto, a new, if tragic, beginning. In that other past, without Xena a warrior at all, wasn't it likely that some warlord had done the same?
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, as strange as that sounded to her. Gabrielle was fascinated by Callisto. As tough as Gabrielle had become in her time with Xena, Callisto, only a few years older, was leagues beyond. She did not have the frame of a warrior, like Xena, yet beneath Gabrielle's touch was, everywhere, firm muscle. But it was not quite a dancer's form, either, as she had considered before. No, Callisto had the lissome body of an acrobat.
And a whip-sharp mind -- either past told her that -- brilliant even when it had been clouded by hatred. As Gabrielle tilted her head into the wind, eyes taking in the drift of Callisto's hair, the apple of her cheeks in the breeze, the dark line of her eyebrow -- in short, the beau ideal among warriors, she half-smiled -- this fascinated her the most. What made Callisto just here and blind before? Gabrielle had praised this in her but still not understood it. Melas, whose son had been Callisto's victim, had come out of his bloodlust in time. What would it have taken to bring back Callisto?
"Blue or brown?" Callisto's voice cut into Gabrielle's reverie.
"What?" the bard asked.
The goddess turned a sly smile on her. "Are you still trying to decide which color you like best?"
Gabrielle met those eyes, so much less threatening than they had seemed before. "No," she said simply. She took a deep breath. "Tell me about your training, Callisto."
The warrior's smile faded. "Here... or there?" she asked, eyes ahead as they swept through the countryside.
"Here," the bard asked.
Her voice was unusually audible above the rushing air, or perhaps Callisto was speaking into Gabrielle's heart more than her ears. "Not much to tell. Mostly I learned how to fight from Hercules."
"But he doesn't use weapons."
She shrugged. "Nine tenths of fighting is in the head, and only the rest is in your hands, whether empty or full." Gabrielle could feel the tension in her. "Mostly he just wanted me to know how to defend myself."
The bard followed the unspoken train of thought. "But you wanted more."
"I wanted to strike out. He wanted to keep out." Her whole body sighed. "We both lost."
Gabrielle wasn't sure if it was their closeness right now or just a trick of perception, but it seemed like she could read the goddess' thoughts. Her eyes grew wide. "He's here, isn't he?" she asked, gesturing ahead of them. "With this army."
An almost imperceptible nod.
"And you're afraid to see him," the bard finished.
The voice, still in her head, was quiet. "Afraid to," Callisto said, "and dying to."
Gabrielle shook her head gently, and raised a hand to softly stroke Callisto's hair. The goddess smiled a bit at the tender gesture, and tried to focus on the road as they journeyed on into the dusk.
Iolaus spotted them first against the fiery halo of the setting sun. He said a quick thanks to Zeus for their safe passage and that Callisto had refrained from anything rash like trying to take on Velasca alone, then raced through the camp towards a tall, long-haired, brawny man assisting with the tent construction.
"They're coming," Iolaus said, winded.
Hercules stood straight, shading his vision from the sun with a hand. "Well isn't that a sight for sore eyes," he said, letting out a long breath.
Hands on his hips, Iolaus stared out at the women's approach. "I swear, if we survive this, I will NEVER let Callisto out of my sight for that long again."
Hercules turned a penetrating, brow-furrowed look on his friend.
Iolaus did a double take at the demi-god's gaze. "With-- I mean, within reason, of course." He shifted on his feet nervously. "Did I say that out loud?"
"Yes."
The blond man opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Let's go greet them," he said at last, and started off.
"Let's," Hercules frowned.
Xena reached them first. Argo's reins in her hand, the Warrior Princess acknowledged Iolaus' nod, then approached Hercules with just the slightest hesitation. "It's good to see you again," she said.
"You too, Xena," Hercules replied, kissing her cheek.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"I wish it were under better circumstances," he said, "But to help my long lost daughter," his voice raising a tad with a blend of rebuke and affection for Callisto, as she eased Gabrielle to the ground with a helping hand, "I'd go anywhere."
The bard stepped forward as Callisto hung momentarily back, fussing with her saddle.
"Queen of the Amazons," Hercules nodded respectfully, grinning. "They've never had a leader so lovely."
Gabrielle smiled briefly. "I'm glad you're here." She glanced back at the blonde warrioress. "But she could use a little reassurance."
Hercules frowned, face filling with concern. "Callisto?" he called to her.
Robbed by Ares of seeing her mother when it seemed so close, Callisto had lived this meeting over and over in her head since the memory stole upon her in the tavern in Pharsalus. She could hear his voice, but almost couldn't make herself look at him, for fear the reality wouldn't live up to the dream. But then he spoke her name, and she couldn't help but see him. And he was beautiful, handsome and strong and the comfort of her life. "Papa..." she said brokenly.
Her back to the sun and its light in his eyes, Hercules didn't gather in the changes in Callisto before he stepped forward and took her tightly in his arms. She wanted the embrace to last forever. But he felt the difference in her almost immediately. Hercules pushed back from her, but Callisto wouldn't let him beyond arms' length, her strength easily matching his. Her face was a sea of emotions, yet all he could see was the color of her eyes.
"Papa, don't..." she begged.
"Callisto, what have you done?" he asked heavily.
She looked down. "It's a gift from Artemis."
"Well tell her to take it back. Better yet," he pushed away, and she let him, "she's my sister, I'LL tell her." He started to turn away. "She can't make you do her dirty work, Callisto."
Callisto lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm going to protect my family and friends from her this time, father."
Hercules paused, then looked back at her questioningly.
"From Velasca," she finished.
"Don't you trust that we could take care of her together?"
She set her jaw. "I do now."
He shook his head slowly. His look of sadness tore at her heart. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek, and she closed her eyes at the caress. "Callisto," he said softly, pulling her close again, "nothing in this world means as much to me as you do. But is this what comes of being apart for so long?"
She pushed back to see his face with silver tears on her own. "Yes, it is. I want to finish this, so she can never come between us again. I don't care about this, these powers," she shook her head, "Olympus can have them back when this is over. But Velasca has Ares on her side, and I'm not leaving anything to chance this time." She wiped away the tears with her hand, composing herself. "I think we need to start preparing," Callisto said to Xena and the others, pulling away from Hercules and grabbing the reins of her horse.
As the group began to follow, Hercules thought worriedly to himself about how little a part chance ever seemed to really have in life, and instead how much a part did fate.