Disclaimers & Warnings: See Part 1

The day of departure finally arrived, and Gabrielle brought Tillit to the bedroom she shared with Beowulf. At the end of their bed sat a sea chest in which the two kept the accumulated treasures of their lives. For a while, the warrior rummaged in the depths of the trunk, searching among the pouches and mysterious bundles wrapped in leather and skins. Finally she found the item she sought. Tillit stood patiently waiting as Gabrielle unwrapped a necklace and held it out to her. Hundreds of beads formed a crescent at the throat, an inner arc of blue cradled by surrounding rust brown.

"Tillit, we are going to visit the Amazons. When you were born, Xena's daughter passed on to you the Right of Caste that I had given her at her birth." Tillit listened with her full attention as her mother spoke in a soft intense tone. "This necklace represents your status as a princess of the Amazon Nation. It was given to me many years ago, and someday you will pass it on to the one you choose as your successor. It marks your claim to the leadership and your place in Amazon history. Those who see it will know your status and where it comes from."

Tillit looked from the necklace to her mother and noted the sad faraway look in her eyes. Gabrielle was remembering a day over forty-five years before, when it had been placed around her own neck, in the hut of the recently murdered Princess Terries. She'd had no idea of what it meant to be an Amazon or a princess. She would learn soon enough. A wry smile shaped her lips as she moved to tie the cord around her daughter's neck. Soon Tillit would learn the reality behind all the lessons she'd been taught. She would learn what it meant to be an Amazon Princess.

After Tillit had left to nervously recheck her own packing one more time, Gabrielle dug a little further in the sea chest. From the bottom she lifted a well-padded pouch, and she slipped the drawstring cord to open it. With surprise, the warrior realized that it had been years since she'd opened that pouch. Too many memories and too much heartache lay within it to approach it very often. For a moment she held the dark urn, feeling its weight and tracing the curve of its side with a trembling finger. Her vision lost focus and the highlights shimmered as tears filled her eyes, and finally she clasped the last remains of the Warrior Princess to her breast.

"I know I promised, Xena...promised to take you home. It's just that so much has happened, and the years passed, and…and…I couldn't…." For a while she sobbed, but when she finally calmed herself she continued. "Xena, I will take you to rest with your brother and your mother one day…even if it's the last thing I ever do."

With reverence Gabrielle rewrapped the urn and carefully set it back in the chest. From another drawstring pouch she withdrew a weapon, feeling its weight and checking the razor sharpness of its circular edge. It had been a long time since she'd carried it, yet she had no fear that her skill with it had diminished. From the first time she'd used it, it had flown unerringly to its target and then returned to her hand. The combined version of the god-forged ring was the tangible evidence of the Warrior Princess' legacy, passed on to her. Gabrielle knew that like Xena before her, she had become the Chosen of her mentor; a mortal emissary who would carry out an immortal mission in the world. Like war, the Greater Good was a cause that would always drive mankind. She clipped the chakram to the belt at her waist and finished repacking the trunk.

Gabrielle took Tillit on her great adventure. The girl had never been so far from home, nor on so long a trip. They expected that it would be early summer before they returned. They started out riding two horses and a using a third for their gear. Tillit chattered more than Gabrielle had ever heard her speak…in other words, she asked a dozen questions per candlemark, on everything from the customs of the Amazons to the value of the unfamiliar plants she saw along the way. Gabrielle was almost thankful to answer her. It kept her from dwelling on coaxing the Utma's dagger from Backari again, and what the ensuing vision might reveal.

For the first three weeks they traveled happily, camping at night and mostly living off the land. Being spring in eastern Germania, game and fish were plentiful. Fresh water was easy to find, and most nights they didn't have to rely on their travel rations. Gabrielle found it a new experience to have her daughter do most of the camp set up. During the years with Xena she had been in charge of it, and afterwards she had been travelling alone. Now, Tillit gathered wood and water, cared for the horses, and did much of the cooking. Gabrielle spent time hunting and gathering, and patrolling the area for danger. In comparison to the constant threats she had faced years ago with Xena, this trip seemed trouble free. She'd had a similar experience on her previous trip with Eve. In the end, Gabrielle had to admit that the "barbarous" lands beyond the Roman Empire were safer than Italia, Aegyptus, or her homeland of Greece.

On the twenty-second day out, they were camped by a peaceful stream. Wisps of cloud threaded the gauntlet of stars above. Gabrielle and Tillit had dozed off to the crackling chuckle of their fire and the whispers of running water, gnawing secrets from the stones nearby. It was a perfect night for dreaming, and Gabrielle dreamed.



In a cave beside a rugged coast, where surf crashed ceaselessly against a rocky shore, a tired and ragged man took refuge from the night. He was a disgraced warrior from long ago, shamed and forgotten by kin and enemies alike. Once he had been a general and done a god's bidding. Now he was a starving wretch. He crawled into the hole in the side of the hill expecting to spend a cold wet night among the worms. In the darkness he began to smell a whiff of smoke. Finally he crawled into a larger room, hidden for centuries from all human eyes. He could not believe what he felt beneath his chapped and gnarled fingers in that lightless place. A metal cup; he couldn't believe his fortune. If it were pewter he could trade it for a hot meal. If, by the gods, it were gold…he wouldn't think of it until he saw it in the light. He collapsed in exhaustion and slept fitfully; unconsciously aware, perhaps, that he was trespassing in another's realm.

In the morning he crawled from the cave and saw that the cup was in fact made of gold. It was of ancient workmanship, wrought by one of the many lost peoples of Norse legend. He bore it to the nearest town, and sold it for a purse of coins. So odd was it that such a wretch should bear such a treasure, that the shopkeeper immediately sent word to the nearest Thing. By chance, it happened to be the council that met in Kaupang.

That night the sky came alight with fire, and a roaring of great wrath echoed across the land. No sooner had the cave's owner discovered the theft than he rose in vengeful anger, intent on destroying the thief and all who gave him comfort. Such a thing had not happened in generations beyond count. So it was that with horror and surprise that the people watched a Northern Dragon of ancient times ride the night air, breathing flames, and incinerating every place in which it detected the thief's scent. Gabrielle watched all this, not knowing if it was something to come, something that was happening now, or a vision from the long lost past.


Gabrielle awoke confused rather than alarmed, and only mentioned the dream to Tillit in passing, late the next afternoon. It was one of those dreams that might be a flight of fancy, lifted from a legend and recycled by a creative mind. It certainly had nothing to do with her mission. Two more nights passed without any dreams of dragons, and so Gabrielle concentrated on teaching Tillit about the lands around them. They were within ten days' ride of the Amazons, and the flora and fauna would be the same. On the third night, Gabrielle again saw the Northern Dragon.


She was inside Ubchulk's tavern, and in the common room, the Thing was holding an emergency meeting. The people were hysterical, for a calamity had befallen them. Not three leagues away, moving inland from the coast, the firedrake's destruction was threatening the town and its outlying homesteads. The great wyrm flew overhead; it's breath igniting fields, barns, and homes, as the people fled in terror. Gabrielle saw many of her neighbors and friends, and she saw her husband, finally bringing the gathering to order by the strength of his will. She watched as the Thing's deputies dragged forward a ragged man in chains, and when his face was lifted, she recognized Teuboldt. A golden cup was also placed on the table before Beowulf, and the story she had seen three nights before was told.

Gabrielle listened, becoming increasingly more frantic since it was obvious that the dragon had to be stopped. She felt she knew what would happen next. As they had in the past, the people turned to Beowulf. He had been their champion and leader before, and he was still the most renowned of their warriors. She heard her own name mentioned, and saw the disappointment on the faces of the people when he told them that his wife was weeks away to the south. She heard him reassure the Thing. She heard him propose a plan, to take a dozen warriors to hunt and kill the dragon. She saw ancient weapons being inspected, heirlooms from past days; a round metal shield, and a two-handed sword of polished steel.

She heard the silence, before even one man would nervously volunteer, only broken when Wicglaf entered the room and upbraided the Vikings, naming himself the first to accompany her husband. She smiled warmly at his courage and loyalty. It had been the same, twenty summers before, when they had fought for the ring.


This time when Gabrielle woke up she was shaking. She was torn between leaping on her horse and dragging her daughter back to Kaupang as fast as she could ride, or continuing on their journey, knowing that she'd never get back in time. She was still sitting by the campfire, shaking her head in indecision, when Tillit woke up and saw her. Gabrielle didn't need much prodding to tell what she had seen. She'd always found comfort in talking about problems, (unless they were embarrassing personal issues concerning the person asking the questions), so she readily confided in her daughter. Tillit's response was to leap up and start stuffing their campsite into their saddlebags. Gabrielle watched her frantically running in circles. Oddly, it calmed her, maybe because she realized that someone had to keep her head. Finally, she began to think, and that made it worse.

They were twenty-seven days' ride from Kaupang. Riding their horses to death would shorten their time to perhaps sixteen days. Beowulf would hunt the dragon within the next day or two. She wouldn't even arrive home in time for his pyre. The thought of that brought helpless tears to her eyes. She had lost her first husband forty-three years before, on the day after their wedding. She had lost her soulmate in a heartbreaking quest for atonement. Eventually even Xena's ghost had abandoned her. She'd killed her own first daughter, Hope, and still couldn't help feeling guilty about Hope's part in Solon's death. She had even killed Eve. Her destiny seemed to include losing both her husbands, in restitution for killing both her soulmate's children. Across the years rang the prophetic words that Eve had spoken at their parting in Indus, beware the Northern Dragon's rage.

Since Xena's passing, she had become one of the greatest warriors of her time. Even unarmed, she was one of the most deadly people to walk the known world. Gabrielle had regained her lost faith, and she had reopened her heart to life, but now all she could look forward to was the death of her husband. She could almost taste the ashes of his pyre. As her heart broke yet again, an anguished moan escaped her, and she crumpled in the dirt on her side.

The moan jerked Tillit from her frenzy, and she whipped towards the sound, watching as her mother's body heaved with wracking sobs. The image of Gabrielle's face, staring sightlessly into the dirt, blurred through her own tears, and she charged forward, throwing herself over her mother and cradling her in her arms. Her embrace was as desperate as a death grip, and then her body too was convulsing with heartbreak. It was more than the Goddess of Love could bear.

Aphrodite appeared in a flash of pink hearts, each bearing a blood red crack, a new effect that went unnoticed. She looked as sorrowful as she had ever appeared, even more so than when she had once protected Gabrielle's dying body in a burning house. Many had prayed to her begging for her favor, and many had worshipped her, but of all mortals, only Gabrielle had truly called her a friend. The goddess cared for the once Bard of Potidaea, not in the obsessive way that her brother had cared for Xena, but with sincere concern and a deep desire to help. She reached out and tenderly laid her hands on Gabrielle and Tillit's cheeks.

Both mortals felt their hopeless pain diminish. Their violent sobbing abated, to be replaced by hitching breathing and silent tears. They blinked and looked up into the compassionate blue eyes of the Goddess of Love.

"Oh, Aphrodite," Gabrielle gasped, "I've foreseen Beowulf's death, and I can't do a thing about it."

"Are you sure?" The goddess asked seriously.

"I know he can't overcome a dragon and I'm way to far away to help. I can feel the cowardice of the men who will go with him. There's only one of them who will stand by him."

"Gabrielle, what you've foreseen is his challenge, not his actual death, right?"

"I've seen the Northern Dragon, Aphrodite. It flies and breathes fire. Nothing can protect him from its rage."

"Are you so sure, Gabrielle? Are you so sure you're too far away?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Little one, I won't lie to you. He may die and he may survive, I don't know. But he does have a chance. Do you really know the full potential of your powers yet? Didn't someone once tell you that, 'anything is possible'?"

Gabrielle sat in silence digesting what the goddess had said. Her lost hope slowly began to grow again in her heart. "No, and yes," she admitted to the goddess at last.

"Then you see, there is a chance." Aphrodite said with a small smile. "And didn't someone once tell you that, 'in this family, we make our own destiny'?"

The Goddess of Love waited just long enough to see the beginnings of a smile on her friend's face before adding, "your daughter's a real cutie," as she disappeared in a sprinkling of unblemished hearts.

The dragon was no different than it had been a moment before. Gabrielle was no closer, and Beowulf's company was no less cowardly. But much had changed during the visit from the goddess. Gabrielle grasped hope again, and her determination to not give up without a fight had returned. There was a chance. She could see it now. She felt the same spirit that had driven her soulmate to defeat so many enemies, even when the odds seemed hopeless. It was the will to drive oneself beyond what a mortal was always taught that a mortal could do. It was the spirit that had allowed her soulmate to find victory in her final battle, though another might have only perceived defeat.

Never again will I let my doubt paralyze me, Gabrielle promised herself. Never again will I let my fear become despair. I will be all that you were, my soulmate.

Tillit watched the change in her mother, and she felt her hope for her father's fate renewed. The goddess had spoken to Gabrielle like a friend and a teacher, and she had never seen a goddess before. Tillit knew the goddess believed that her mother might still save her father; she knew the goddess had faith in her mother's powers. Surely if a goddess believed, then it must be possible.

Gabrielle and Tillit mounted their horses and rode fast toward the Amazon camp. Now there was no doubt in Gabrielle's mind about what she needed to do. They would arrive at Aliah and Backari's tribe within a week, and somewhere along the way, Gabrielle would fight a dragon. That the dragon was over 600 miles to the northwest no longer mattered.

For two more days, while Gabrielle and Tillit rode, Beowulf drove his men in search of the dragon. They could attack it only on the ground, and that meant at its den. Only one man knew where the beast's cave lay hidden. They prodded and threatened the chained man, until his fear of them outweighed his fear of the dragon, and he led them to the cave, with its entrance tunnel by the rocky coast. Teuboldt pointed with a shaking hand towards the opening in the hill, the chain on his arm clinking with his tremors of fear. There he froze, all pretense to courage evaporating, and no threat would force him closer. The cave mouth was like a splotch of night among the grasses, from which smoke and the reek of brimstone churned. As the warriors watched, a gout of reddish flame roiled from the cave entrance, and a roar of malice rumbled along the seacoast. They had arrived in the early afternoon.

Beowulf's plan called for a two-stage attack. He had taken it upon himself to approach the dragon from the front, intending to distract it and wound it if he could. He also knew that his attack would galvanize the spirit of his men, who would attack from above the cave mouth, sweeping down on either side to slay the beast from behind. It seemed to be a reasonable plan, if your name wasn't Beowulf. The warrior knew that his chances weren't good. He'd had to place his faith in the ancient shield, believed impervious to dragon fire, and the sword that the bards called the Dragon's Bane. Both had renowned histories, but neither actually had been used against a dragon, so far as anyone could remember, except in song. Beowulf armed himself and moved to challenge the monster, while his men slipped towards the hill from behind with quaking stealth. As he walked, Beowulf thought of his wife and daughter so far away, wondering if he'd ever see them again. He seriously doubted it, and he sent his thoughts out to them.

My beloved wife and dearest daughter, he told them gravely, seeing them in his mind's eye, today I hope to free our people from a scourge in dragon's form. I have a plan and some men. I have some ancient and renowned weapons, but I have little real hope. I have no regrets about serving our people as a warrior, except that it shall separate me from you. Pray for me my love, and take care of our son. I wish I could see you all one more time. Look for me in the halls of Valhalla.

Riding at a canter through shaded woodlands far away, Tillit felt a tremor, but Gabrielle heard every word with her heart. She brought them to a halt, and dismounted, handing her reins to her daughter. Gabrielle found a log just off the trail and settled herself, sinking into a state of emptiness with only a couple of breaths. On the trail Tillit waited, holding the horses and keeping watch. She could tell from her mother's eyes that she was far, far away.

Gabrielle allowed her will to disappear into the emptiness she sought. In stillness and without desire, she found peace. Clearly she saw her husband approaching the mouth of the dragon's den, already sweating from the heat of the flames that rolled out of the darkness. On the hill above the coast, she saw Wicglaf leading ten warriors to the top of the slope. They gazed down on the wave beaten shore, where the smoke obscured their leader, and she felt the courage melting from their hearts. Clearly she felt the ground trembling as the dragon strode into the tunnel, making its way to battle the foolish mortal who stood in challenge at its doorstep.

Across hundreds of miles, Gabrielle wove an unseen shield to reinforce the ancient heirloom her husband bore. The Northern Dragon reached the mouth of its lair and blasted the figure of a man with a lashing tongue of flame. The rocks on the beach were scorched, and steam exploded from the surf, but the fire didn't bite on the warrior, and the shield held. The dragon advanced within striking distance, and again flames licked the man. Though he crouched in the shield's shadow, no harm came to him. Despite feeling a renewal of strength in his heart, Beowulf was more amazed than the dragon.

Now he hefted the two-handed sword, and with his right arm he struck the dragon's neck with his mightiest blow. He sent a silent prayer that the sword would prove as strong as the shield. Gabrielle heard the stroke ring against the dragon's plated armor of scales, like Thor's hammer striking the anvil. She watched as a shard of steel splintered off the polished blade. The dragon recoiled from the blow, but showed no wound. The stroke would have beheaded a prize bull. Now the monster was enraged, and instead of flames, it attacked with its fangs. Quick as a snake and even less expected, its head snapped forward, and its twin ivory harpoons pierced Beowulf's mail coat. Like a viper, it injected a poison into his body, and Beowulf sank to his knees in amazement and shock.

Across the miles Gabrielle felt his shock no less, for she had not anticipated the dragon's tactic. She hadn't known its capabilities. Now she knew fear again, but determination forced her spirit to battle on. Above the cave mouth she heard the running footsteps of ten men, and she knew that her husband had been deserted when they had seen his fall. Then she heard Wicglaf's voice, cursing them for their cowardice, before she heard his footsteps as he charged down to the beach.

Faithful friend at need, bless you, she thought, and she surrounded him with power. The dragon only noticed him when he ducked behind the ancient battle shield with Beowulf. Again the dragon blasted the huddled figures with fire, but it did them no harm. Again, steam exploded from the surf. Behind the shield, Wicglaf could see that Beowulf was already slowly slipping into a stupor as the venom did its work. Now the dragon moved in, thinking to rip the shield from its prey with its teeth, but as it moved in, Wicglaf leapt up and slipped his sword, point first, between two of the dragon's scales. The sword went in hilt deep, as the man cried out to his leader to attack with him.

Beowulf knew he had nothing to lose. He felt the chill and the lightheadedness from the venom in his veins. Somehow he found the strength to rise to his feet, and he took the notched blade with both his failing hands. As the dragon's head swung past him, trying to wrench the sword from Wicglaf's grasp, he leapt forward and slammed its tip into the dragon's gaping mouth. He did it as his final act, with the image of Gabrielle's face in his mind's eye. Gabrielle sent him the strength to overcome the dragon's poison, with all the love in her heart. Although the ancient blade snapped at the hilt, it had struck home, dealing a fatal wound to the monster's brain.

Though she was far from her body, tears flowed down her cheeks. Gabrielle cried for her husband, as his lifeless body slipped to the beach, coming to rest on top of the shield. The Northern Dragon keeled over on its side, its death dearly bought. Through her tears, she saw Wicglaf drop to his knees to examine Beowulf. And then she withdrew.

The sun had shifted, and she noticed absently that the shadows had advanced in a jump as she blinked. Tillit was standing with the horses, and Gabrielle could see her shoulders hitching and hear her sobs. The look on her own face had been as plain as any shouted words heralding Beowulf's death. She had lost another husband, but Tillit had lost her only father.

They rode no further that day or the next. The loss weighed too heavily on their spirits to allow them any desire to travel. In the firelight at their campsite, they stared into the flames; each lost in her thoughts and memories, lying side by side in their bedrolls, reclining against their saddles. When a fitfully sleep finally came, it found them huddled together seeking solace in each other's comforting embrace.

On the third day after Beowulf's fall, they continued on their way, knowing the Norseman had been committed to the flames after his time of mourning. Now, at home, the bards would be composing songs in Beowulf's honor, while the people of Kaupang were celebrating in a drunken haze. Perhaps his cowardly companions would be reviled in verse. Gabrielle and Tillit rode fast and in silence, no longer taking joy in their surroundings. Tillit had lost the excitement the adventure had promised, wishing only to be home. Gabrielle's heart was still breaking, but now it was for her son, Lyceus, alone and so far away. They were still in a somber mood when they rode into the Amazon's camp, in the afternoon of their thirty-fourth day of travel.

The Amazon greeted them respectfully at first, but soon perceived the sorrow that lay on them both. Backari shepherded them away from the curious crowd and into the privacy of her hut. Queen Aliah joined them soon after. Gabrielle related the story of her husband's death, only to be greeted by stupefied amazement and superstitious suspicion. Aliah and Backari could barely believe Gabrielle's claims about her abilities, and they were so uneasy about outsiders that they received Tillit with unexpected coolness, eyeing the necklace she wore. In fact, they made her feel little more welcome than they had Eve, sixteen years before. It wasn't long before Gabrielle felt her patience ebbing, while her daughter had lost all enchantment with them.

Before things could get any worse, Gabrielle suggested that she and Tillit should rest for the remainder of the day before conducting any further meetings. Aliah and Backari readily agreed. They called a pair of warriors to show their visitors to the guest's lodgings and bid them a good night, though over three candlemarks of daylight remained.

"I can't believe how provincial they are," Gabrielle remarked once they were alone.

"This sucks," Tillit complained, "they're treating us like outcasts or disgraced warriors, not like royalty."

"Part of it is that this is a backwater. Twenty years ago, the best of this tribe left to go south with Queen Cyane. The ones who remained resented it. They didn't want to leave their homelands, and they valued them above being part of the nation. Most of them were barely your age. I think since then, things have just gotten worse. They've grown into their isolation. Honey, this is not really a good representation of Amazon society."

"Gods, I hope not. If it is, I don't think I want to be a part of it at all."

"I guess I can't blame you for feeling that way. You should see the Greek Amazons."

"Actually, I'd just rather go home," Tillit said, "can't we just finish here quick and go?"

"Well, I guess so. All I really have to do is talk with the Utma. I hope Backari will cooperate. Last time, things didn't go too smoothly." Unconsciously, she grimaced.

"You think she'd actually try to stop you?"

"I doubt it, but then again, I don't really know these people that well. I know what their roots were; that much we had in common, but where they've gone since then, well, that..." Gabrielle trailed off with a shrug.

"I don't really feel hungry or anything," Tillit said dejectedly, "I guess I'll take a nap."

While Tillit slept, Gabrielle sat on a bench outside the guest's hut. She watched the village activities, deciding that this was the least welcoming group of Amazons she'd ever met. In return, the passing villagers stared at her, keeping their distance. At first Gabrielle smiled her greetings at them, but they remained sullen looking, and finally she gave up and ignored them. Instead, she examined her surroundings.

The village was composed of the same dozen-and-a-half huts that had existed when she'd visited sixteen years before. Now they seemed a bit worse for wear. The thatched roofing looked disheveled, the paths and central area were unswept, and the spaces around the huts lay strewn with refuse. Varia and Cyane would have had a fit, she thought. It told her that morale and discipline were failing, and she wondered if the spiritual life of the women was as bad as their mundane life. Did they still have the cohesiveness and dedication to perform the rituals and honor their traditions? Or were they degenerating into an all-female tribe of warriors and hunters, slowly losing their identity and roots? What would happen when the current leaders, who had grown up as Amazons, passed on their offices? Would the next generation honor their heritage? Would they even survive as a group?

The thought made her glance around again, checking something that had been only an impression before. Sure enough, the only warriors she saw were in their mid-thirties or older. There were no teenagers, and no children. Perhaps those of her escorts who had left Kaupang pregnant sixteen years ago had borne only sons. Perhaps they had left the tribe and taken their children, or perhaps the children had died. This tribe was dying out.

Sadly, Gabrielle came to the conclusion that the best thing these women could do would be to reassociate themselves with the greater Amazon society. To do it, they would have to leave these lands and their queen would have to abdicate. They would still be regarded as renegades from Cyane's tribe. Unfortunately, the whole reason they were in this predicament was that they had refused to remain with the members of their tribe that had left…twenty years before. Finally she realized that, like a child, they had been allowed to find their own path. They didn't seem happy, and they knew where their sisters lived. To move or to stay would have to be their choice; or would it? Well, Gabrielle reminded herself, she really only needed to talk with the Utma. She already had enough problems of her own.

She got up and went back into the hut, finding Tillit shifting and softly whimpering in the throes of a bad dream. She joined her on the pallet, wrapping her daughter in her arms and soothing her with words of comfort. Slowly, Tillit calmed, and her sleep became peaceful. Gabrielle sighed and closed her eyes. Eventually, she too slept.


She was looking down the halls of time, looking at a lineage of people whom she knew were her descendants. There were men and women fanning out before her. The appearance of some was recognizably akin to her own, but others looked nothing like her. Her sight stretched far ahead, into the millennia yet to come, and there she glimpsed her doppelganger, dressed as an adventurer from the period in her dreams. Beyond this woman, standing two generations further ahead in time, was a smiling girl with mousy brown hair and weird canvas shoes. In shock, Gabrielle's viewpoint slammed back into her present time and place in the line.

Then she looked behind her, and she saw a line of people there as well; her ancestors. Past her mother and father stood grandparents she had never met, and behind them, becoming increasingly dim, were a lineage that seemed to stretch back into the depths of time. If she had cast her viewpoint back far enough, she knew who would stand at its focus. Alone in all of humanity, her line included a closed loop, starting with its end. Others had come before and others would follow, but a part of her had traveled back from the future, and would again. She felt humbled, and she felt that she was a part of something vast and ancient. And it came to her that it was her destiny to insure that it could be.

Something else about the vision disturbed her, although she'd been happy to see the image of the smiling man that Lyceus would become. He would be tempered by loss, but would never lose the love in his heart. She found that he would write the lifetale of his father, Beowulf, and that his words would be read for centuries to come. Beyond him stood many children of her lineage. She felt unsettled when she awoke, but, she thought, at least she hadn't dreamed again of Armageddon.


The next day, when Gabrielle requested the Utma dagger, Backari was horrified and Aliah refused. They remembered the results when Gabrielle had last held it, and they had fearfully kept it hidden ever since. Despite all of Gabrielle's arguments and appeals, neither would budge. Finally, Gabrielle could see only one answer, and with a sigh, she demanded the traditional solution, hoping these women still honored tradition.

"Aliah, as a queen of the Amazon Nation, I challenge you for the rule of this tribe."

The whole camp went silent in shock. Even twenty years ago, Gabrielle had enjoyed a reputation as a competent warrior. She had been the soulmate and student of the Warrior Princess. She had led the nation at Helicon, and she had helped fight the gods. Now she was demanding a royal challenge by combat, and their queen, Aliah, could either fight a legend or abdicate and accept the victor's justice. Around them, the eyes of the Amazons stared at their queen, and Aliah could feel their weight.

The question went deeper than even the challenge. Would they cleave to the old ways and maintain their identity, or would they fall upon their guests, forever branding themselves as renegades? As renegades, guilty of regicide, they knew they would become the focus of a vendetta by the rest of the nation. The queens of the south would avenge their friend. It would be their right and their responsibility to insure justice under the law. They would all be hunted down like dogs, even if it took generations. Wasn't it just like this traveling woman to force change on the tribe? She had done it before when she had traveled with Xena, and she was doing it again now.

Tillit couldn't believe that her mother had challenged the queen. It was like something from one of the scrolls. She looked at the calm sad expression on her mother's face, and the look of panic on Aliah's. Then she looked at the two-dozen warriors around them and realized that these women actually might attack them. Unconsciously she felt the scabbard at her back and the Valkyrie's dagger at her waist. She held her breath.

Aliah looked at the weapons Gabrielle bore; the katana at her back, the sais along her calves, and the chakram at her waist. She knew from old stories that her first weapon had been the staff. As the party challenged, she could choose the weapons for the challenge. She gave thought to naming first blood by sword, but her own sword skills were only average. Like most of her northern sisters, Aliah was an excellent shot, but archery was out of the question…no one was that insane. That left chobos, which she had never even been passable with, and bare hands. She was a head taller than Gabrielle, and at least five years younger, and so she made her choice.

"Your challenge is accepted, Queen Gabrielle, I choose combat with bare hands."

Tillit breathed a sigh of relief, and Gabrielle smiled. Her goals were already half achieved. This tribe would remain a part of the nation and continue to honor Amazon traditions. Though it was subconscious on their part, the warriors breathed a sigh of relief as well.

"Queen Aliah, your conditions are accepted and welcomed. Let the challenge commence in a quarter candlemark, or when the practice ground is ready."

It took closer to a half a candlemark to clear away debris and sweep the area, but with everyone pitching in, the practice ground was eventually ready to receive the challengers. Aliah and Gabrielle had removed their weapons, and wrapped their hands. They entered the ring of warriors and began to warm up. Aliah jogged in place, swinging her arms to loosen her shoulders. She watched as Gabrielle began to move in slow motion, each movement smoothly blending into the next, as she sank into some sort of trance. It was an exercise to center the consciousness, something Xena had taught her long ago in Chin. The other Amazons watched her with curiosity, their eyes sometimes flicking to Tillit, who stood alone, apparently little worried about the outcome.

Finally Aliah asked if Gabrielle was ready, and received a nod, "yes", in return. Backari walked into the center of the practice space, standing between the opposing queens and addressing the tribe.

"This is a Royal Challenge of Succession. Queen Gabrielle has challenged Queen Aliah for the rule of this tribe, and Queen Aliah has accepted. The challenge will be fought without weapons, and will be decided by the death or submission of the loser. If the loser remains alive after the challenge, the victor will decide her fate. Are the combatants ready?"

Gabrielle and Aliah nodded. Backari was very disturbed by the emptiness in Gabrielle's eyes and her absolute lack of nervousness. She means to kill Aliah and she has closed her heart, she thought, we should've just given her the accursed dagger.

"Begin!" Backari commanded, moving quickly out of the ring.

Aliah moved in, circling Gabrielle in a fighting stance, her fists up, her footwork assured. Gabrielle simply turned in place to face her, her hands up and ready. Realizing that Gabrielle was waiting for her, Aliah flicked a left jab at Gabrielle's head, trying to force her to move. Gabrielle turned the blow aside with a quick snap of her forearm. Aliah moved forward, advancing to press her attack. Deliver yourself to me, Gabrielle thought as she leapt forward to meet her. Suddenly the blonde queen was way too close and Aliah tried to back up, but it was too late. Gabrielle's fingertips bit the sides of her neck, applying the nerve pinch, and Aliah crashed to the ground, choking.

"I have cut off the flow of blood to your brain," Gabrielle told her in a soft voice, "and you will be dead in moments if you do not yield."

Aliah began to see fuzzy patterns across her field of vision and a trickle of blood ran from her nose. Her head was beginning to throb, as though she were held in a choke hold, but Gabrielle was standing calmly above her, waiting for her answer. From somewhere in a forgotten story, she remembered that Xena had used this technique while questioning enemies. Aliah realized that Gabrielle must have learned the technique from her soulmate long ago. She recalled that the Warrior Princess had never let her prisoners die. She stared up into the blonde queen's eyes…and saw nothing there. Then her vision was swimming with black spots as she began to lose consciousness. She was still expecting Gabrielle to reach down and remove the pinch when her body slumped as her heart finally stopped.

Backari charged into the ring and felt the fallen queen's neck for a pulse, even as Gabrielle knelt to join her.

"Backari, she is truly dead, but there is still a chance," the blonde told her. "Hold her nose and breathe into her mouth. Give her air, and I may be able to restart her heart."

Backari nodded and lowered herself to begin the artificial respiration. Around them, the other warriors stared in shock. Their queen was dead and now they were trying to bring her back to life? Already the fight had been strange enough. They'd expected a long bruising battle. As Gabrielle watched the dead queen's chest rising with the forced air, she placed the heel of her palm above Aliah's heart and began leaning her weight on it in a rhythmic pattern. It might work, and it might not. She hoped she was right about another detail.

Between breaths, Gabrielle could hear Backari muttering under her breath, and she strained to hear her words. As she'd hoped, the shamaness was praying for Aliah's life, begging her spirit to return to their tribe. But the dead queen's body remained still and unresponsive as her spirit prepared to journey beyond the mortal world.

"This can only go on for a short time," Gabrielle urgently whispered, "and every moment that passes makes her chances less. Her spirit is at peace and she must have a great reason to return to the struggles of life."

Backari's entreaties lost their formality. Now she was begging Aliah to return to life. She was begging and demanding the lost queen's spirit to fight for its life and return, and her voice was filled with emotion. As her tears fell to anoint the dead queen's face, she begged Aliah to return to her. She was begging a lover to return for the sake of their love. Finally Aliah's spirit heard.

The dead queen's body gave a jerk and she gasped for breath, fighting for air as the blood coursed through her veins. She was alive again, and now she demanded that her body support her spirit. Backari was practically crushing her in a hug; tears of relief streaming from her eyes. She cast a quick glance at Gabrielle, giving her the first smile the blonde had ever seen grace her face. Then her attention returned to Aliah, and she kissed her and held her tightly as she recovered.

Gabrielle stood up and moved a few paces away to give them room. She sought out her daughter. Tillit was watching her with an expression of amazement on her face. She scanned the other Amazons, and realized they were struck dumb with awe. Their old queen had been defeated, killed, and then returned to life. It seemed that their new queen held life and death in her hands. Though they were horribly confused, for the first time in a long time, being Amazons had immediacy and importance. It was again an identity to be proud of; an identity that transcended hunting, and warfare, and survival. It was something beyond the mundane that touched upon the deeper mysteries of life and death, mortality and immortality, fate and destiny. Something that had once been theirs, but that they had come to fear. Yet there was still a part of the challenge to complete. The victor had to decide the loser's fate, but they were hopeful, for Gabrielle had already chosen life once.

It took a while, but finally Aliah stood beside Backari, while the warriors encircled them, awaiting their new queen's decision. Gabrielle looked each of them in the eyes, and then took a deep breath.

"It is my first decision as your queen, that the Dagger of the Utma shall be turned over to me. In visions, I have learned that the first Cyane was both my ancestor and my descendant. I therefore claim the dagger as a family heirloom." Gabrielle's proclamation was met with a gasp, and she raised her hand for silence before continuing.

"This tribe is in decline. I see no young warriors in training, and I see no children. The village has not increased since I visited last, over sixteen years ago. I would not see this tribe disappear. Therefore, I am ordering you to prepare to move south, where you will join yourselves to the body of the Amazon Nation. You will live by the laws of the nation, and you will honor their leaders." Again a gasp met her decision, and again she gestured for silence before continuing. She had only one further decree.

"I appoint Aliah to be my regent over this tribe, and to rule it in my stead, until such time as this tribe is again part of the larger Amazon Nation and under the rule of its queens and council."

The warriors looked at each other with uncertainty. Aliah was still their leader, at least temporarily. Gabrielle had claimed the dagger…and good riddance to it. But the command to join the southern Amazons was unexpected. They had refused to go before, and they weren't in any hurry to go now. Still, it was true that their tribe had not increased in numbers, and Gabrielle's opinion that the tribe was dying had been whispered before. All in all, things were much the way they had been, but nothing was the same. Gabrielle had again presided over changes in the tribe, as she and Xena had before, and as her distant ancestor had done at the start. It was a part of her destiny.

Later that night, after Backari had handed over the Utma Dagger, barely concealing her fear and loathing of it, Gabrielle had instructed Aliah, giving her parting orders to her regent.

"Aliah, don't wait too long to make the move south. The tribe is willing to embrace change right now, and before they become complacent again, you must move. I remember this tribe, almost forty-five years ago, when I came here with Xena and her baby, Eve. It was vibrant and alive then, and I would see it that way again. In the nation to the south, though a coalition of queens and council rule over all, the tribes keep much of their original identities. Lead your sisters, Aliah, and bring them to a new life."

Aliah was quiet, more thoughtful than she had been in a long time. Dying and returning to life was sobering, and now she was looking ahead to the decades after she and Backari were gone. Finally she agreed to leave within a month, while the weather still favored travel. It would be her first real adventure in many years, and deep inside, the prospect was beginning to excite her.

Gabrielle returned to the guest's hut where Tillit was waiting. It had been a long day, and both of them were tired. They planned to begin their return trip home the next day, and Tillit had already packed most of their things.

"Mother," Tillit asked in the dark as they prepared to sleep, "do the techniques you used today on Aliah usually bring a dead person back to life?"

"No, hon, usually they can't work. The person has to be very recently dead, their body must be undamaged physically, and their spirit has to have a strong reason to return."

"So how often have you actually seen it work?"

"Only twice. Once when I died and Xena brought me back, and once when Xena died and Eve and I brought her back."

"So does that mean only soulmates can bring each other back to life?"

"I don't know, but I believe that the deceased's spirit must have a very strong reason to fight to return. It must be someone the dead person loves that must call their spirit back, and the body has to be given air and blood in the meantime."

The answer seemed to satisfy Tillit, because after that she was silent, and soon Gabrielle heard her slow breathing as she slept. Throughout the village, others whispered in the dark, and if a vote had been taken, it would have shown that most of them were ready to move south. Eventually the village slept in peace. None of them saw the flickering light as Gabrielle raised the Dagger of the Utma overhead.

It was the same as she remembered it. The vision appeared with explosive force. One moment she had been in the Amazon's guest hut, the next moment she was with the Utma in her yurt. Cyane hadn't changed a bit, but Gabrielle hadn't expected her to. This time, Cyane saluted her by performing a shuffling step, ending with her canvas shoe loudly slapping the ground. She was leaning forward over the foot with her arms spread wide. "Tuhhh duh!" she happily pronounced. Gabrielle was perplexed.

"Never mind," the Utma muttered, before smiling at Gabrielle and asking, "so what can I do you for today?"

"Well," Gabrielle began, "it's about my dreams again. I remember the first two were about things that happened in 1945, and the last one was in 1956. You mentioned seeing something called, "Diskuvuri", in '97? What I wanted to know was if that was 1997 or 1897."

At first the Utma looked at her like she was kidding, then she giggled.

"You've got a good memory for details, Gabrielle. I saw a documentary about atomic war, on a TV show called, 'Discovery', in 1997. Probably a repeat. There wasn't any such thing as TV in 1897. Hell, they didn't even have radio back then."

Almost everything Cyane had said was unintelligible to Gabrielle. The only part that she understood was that the Utma had been talking about 1997. In her timeline, the world hadn't been destroyed in 1956. She had to make sure though, because so much of what the Utma said was weird and didn't make sense.

"Cyane, where you were from, the army didn't worship Ares, and the world hadn't been destroyed before your time, right?"

"You got it! I guess my past is a much better place than your future. Wouldn't want to be you, either. That God of War sounds like a royal pain, not to mention, he's a thief."

"Well, I guess that settles it then. I have to do something to stop him, or before your time, the world will be destroyed."

"That's heavy," the Utma conceded. "I wish you luck."

The vision seemed to collapse into itself, and Gabrielle found herself standing alone, back in the guest hut. Not much later, she joined her daughter in the realm of Morpheus.


She was in her home, in the bedroom that she and Beowulf had shared so happily for seventeen years. Every detail was familiar to her eyes. Even each mote of dust floating in the air was in its proper place. She should have been at peace, but the hairs on the back of her neck were tingling, and an electric energy filled the space. Suddenly the air in the center of the room shimmered, and with a flash the God of War appeared.

Gabrielle was stunned. She hadn't seen him, except in one dream, since before she had gone to Japa and lost her soulmate. Now Ares here was in her home, standing still while he looked around, taking his bearings, but also searching. His eyes scanned the shelves, the desk, and the bed. He looked right through her without a shred of recognition, and moved on. Finally she saw his glance come to rest on the sea chest that lay at the foot of the bed, and Gabrielle's heart froze in horror. She watched as he walked the three steps to it, lowering himself on one knee. She moved to slam her palm into his face as he lifted the lid, but her hand passed through him and he didn't even notice. She screamed in frustration as he lifted the urn from among the treasures of her life and checked the contents. The pale ashes of his beloved Warrior Princess lay within, unchanged. Gabrielle would have killed him, though he was a god, if she had been awake and this hadn't been a dream. A triumphant smile grew on Ares' face as he closed the lid.

She stormed after him as he left the bedroom, crossing the hall to the room the family used for a variety of activities. Again she watched, seething with resentment, as he stole from among the things she held dear. He picked up the bag of scrolls she had rewritten, and then he allowed himself to laugh. His laughter echoed as he vanished.

She was there when he reappeared in the room of the cave that had once held the vortex. He reverently laid the urn on the altar and turned towards a stone sarcophagus, carved in his own likeness, which hadn't been there before. Finally he spoke as he shifted the lid to open the coffin.

"Ahhhh, Xena, welcome home at last. You know, back when Eve was feared as the Bringer of the Twilight, I had this coffin made. It was a contingency plan. I had hoped to sleep through the destruction, but then I became mortal. I'm sure you remember the story," he joked. "Now I guess this coffin will be a fitting tomb for the remains of my Warrior Princess, at least for a while. After all, you always had a place inside me. Oh, and if you get bored, here's some stuff to read."

He had gently set the urn inside the massive stone coffin and negligently dumped her bag of scrolls in at the foot. Then he'd shifted the massive lid closed and vanished again.


For the second time, Gabrielle awoke from a dream boiling with rage. She felt as if she had been raped by the God of War. She didn't doubt the dream for a mmoment, and the Utma had called him a thief. If she went home, she knew she would find the urn and her scrolls gone. Even as she stood by her pallet in the guest hut of the Amazons, her scrolls and the precious urn with her soulmate's ashes lay in a stone coffin in Ares' tomb.

She had intended to return home that morning with Tillit, but now they would have to make a detour. They would be heading south to Greece. Somehow, someway, she would find that temple. She would take back what he had stolen, and she would find a way to stop him from realizing the future she'd seen in her dreams. In spite of what Xena had believed, on this morning Gabrielle was perfectly willing to kill the God of War.

With haste born of anger, she awoke her daughter, packed their belongings, and bid the Amazons farewell. They were amazed at the change in her demeanor and cringed at her wrath. All suspected that this was the result of another meeting with the Utma. Now, though it broke her heart, Lyceus would have to wait a bit longer for their return. Tillit trailed after her mother, confused and full of questions. Gabrielle silenced her with a glance. They took the road south.

It had been almost twenty years since Gabrielle had traveled in Germania, but there were parts of the road that seemed unchanged. Instead of moving northwest towards home, she and Tillit rode southwest. They crossed the Vistula River from Sarmatia after four days of travelling the northern steppes. Then Gabrielle directed them south, towards the Dukla Pass, to cross the Carpathian Mts. They rode fast, but made sure to rest their horses, for they had a long way to go. First she had a mission in Greece, and then a journey back to the Norselands where Lyceus waited. Leaving him alone for so long following Beowulf's death tore at her heart. They would be lucky to arrive home before winter.

"Mother," Tillit finally asked as they forded a stream, "where are we actually going, besides going south?" The princess had restrained herself for almost a week. She'd been practically tiptoeing around her mother since leaving the Amazon camp.

"I thought we'd visit my friends, Varia and Cyane. I want you to see what the Amazon Nation is like, and the village you saw was not a good example. Besides, they may know what's been going on with Ares in Greece. I haven't seen them in nearly twenty years though," Gabrielle said, with a touch of uncertainty, "and a lot may have changed."

Tillit was overjoyed to hear this. Now she'd get to see the real Amazons, and she was looking forward to it with enthusiasm rivaling what she'd felt at the journey's start. She had noticed that her mother still seemed a bit grim though, so she tried to appear serious and didn't belabor her with questions.

After eight days of travel, Gabrielle and Tillit looked up at the mountains that marched in an unending row before them. From the gently rolling foothills, ever-taller peaks grew; finally forming a snow capped barrier that twinkled in the bright sun. Gabrielle pointed out a notch between two distant mountains, and told her daughter that in two days, they would cross the Carpathians at that alpine pass. Tillit stared in wonder at the scenery. Somehow these mountains were different from those of the Norselands. Maybe it was because she was able to view them from a distance across so much flat land. Maybe it was because the landscape just seemed so pristine. Maybe it was the quality of the more southerly sunlight. It was a mysterious and subtle difference some would have attributed to the presence of different gods.

Later that afternoon they were crossing a field, still heading south. The landscape was giving Gabrielle little chills. Finally they approached a wood, and near the tree line stood the last overgrown remains of a burned out homestead. From the look of it, at least a couple dozen years had passed since it had been occupied. Not even a trace scent of smoke remained. Tillit reigned in her horse when she noticed that her mother had stopped. A sense of peace and residual melancholy enfolded the scene. In the afternoon warmth, only the breeze stroking the tall weeds and the buzzing of insects could be heard.

Gabrielle was staring at the ruins with a distant look in her eyes and a sad expression on her face. She was reliving the memory of a day with her soulmate; blackberries, morels, roast quail, and a family of skunks. They were another small family who had lost a member to an unforeseen fate. For a moment, she wished she'd pursued those five men to their deaths, then she shook herself and coaxed her horse into a trot. Tillit followed, suppressing the questions on the tip of her tongue.

Gabrielle recognized that she was traveling back in space, retracing the route she'd taken to reach the Norselands so long ago. Until she reached the Amazon lands, the trail would be the same as the one she'd used riding north. There would be the same campsites, villages, and towns. Maybe even some of the same people. But she didn't fool herself. Though she might return by the same road, she would never be the same person. This past was far behind her, and the Gabrielle who had camped and ridden in these lands was a part of that past. There can be no going back, she remembered whispering to her soulmate, while looking down at the Amazon village. And once again, things looked different because she saw them with different eyes. No, one could only move forward.

By day's end they had ridden through most of the foothills, and on the next day they camped midway up the side of a mountain. The second day found Gabrielle and Tillit at the highpoint of the Dukla Pass only a bit past noon. Below them, to the south, the land fell away through ridges and valleys, until it stretched into the distant hazy plains of the Pathissus River. Some two hundred and sixty miles due south lay the Danuvius River, and the Roman Empire. Five hundred miles southeast lay Macedonia and the Amazon Nation, on the border of Moesia Inferior. It was a breathtaking view, almost as though the world was spread before them and they saw it with the sight of gods. Beside her, Tillit sat, gazing at the panorama in wonder. Ahead lay the places she knew from her mother's scrolls, lands of story and legend. Gabrielle gave her a nudge, and they started down the trail leading from the pass. They were riding towards their destiny.

Over the next eleven days, Gabrielle and Tillit retraced the rest of Gabrielle's earlier journey. They came down on the south side of the Carpathians and crossed the wide valley of the Pathissus, heading southeast. The trail led up into the western highlands of Dacia, across the central plateau, and then through the southern mountains to the western edges of the plains bordering the Danuvius River. When they crossed the Danuvius they entered Moesia's uplands, and two days later they crossed an invisible line into Macedonia. They had ridden hard and fast, and made record time.

Now they traveled lands within the home range of the Warrior Princess and the Battling Bard of times past. These wooded valleys and ridges had been the setting of many adventures, and Gabrielle saw many familiar landmarks. They teased her senses in a bittersweet way, recalling memories stretching back across fifty years. She had returned to Greece, and knowing the country, she was on her guard. Whereas before, on her trip north, Gabrielle had traveled with Xena's ghost at a leisurely pace, now she rode in great haste with her daughter.