Shortly after the confrontation with Kuhlamann 's cavalry a runner was sent to Maadrik's stronghold to advise him and his people of the incident, suggest he establish outposts to watch any other possible routes into the valley, and urge him to step up the preparation and training of his force as much as practicable.

     Had Kuhlamann ever entertained doubts of the possibility of effective resistance he could do so no longer. While he might not have been cognizant of the precise nature or potential power of the opposition he now knew of its existence. Xena, Gander, and the others knew there would be a counter-stroke. It was inevitable and they were sure it would not be long in coming.

     So far there had been no report of activity directed against Maadrik's force. For them this was a good thing as it indicated Kuhlamann had not yet become aware of their existence. For the villagers of Al Fahd, however, this situation was anything but good for the Sorcerer would feel free to focus all his forces and unwanted attention on them.

     While their new settlement had been prepared for defense it was still the last place they wanted to fight in. If compelled to withdraw into and defend the settlement itself they would be put entirely on the defensive. Worse yet Kuhlamann would then have but a single target against which he could direct all his destructive power. They could not long endure such a siege and they knew it.

     Fortunately the forest was spread out over many leagues and much of it was thick with heavy brush and tangled vines. Having had to live and exist within its boundaries for so long Xena and the others knew that here, at least, they had the advantage. She had no way of knowing how much longer it would be before Kuhlamann delivered his blow but she was certain the blow would come.

     After consultations with Akress and the village elders it was decided to immediately take additional defensive steps. First a number of volunteers, picked from among the younger men, were sent into the valley to establish a position where they could remain concealed while keeping an eye on the activities of the Sorcerer's minions in the vicinity of the fortress.

     This would be extremely hazardous duty. By now all were aware that the closer they were to Kuhlamann's seat of power the easier it would be for him to discover their presence. But if they were going to successfully establish any sort of defense in depth they would need as much information and timely warning as possible.

     The next step was to establish defensive works at both the summit and valley ends of the forest and in between; in certain areas which seemed vulnerable. Beginning at the verge of the forest these defensive works would extend well into the woods.

     At various locations extremely long rows of Abatis, long and finely sharpened stakes, were to be established just behind and jutting partially through, the dense bushes and under-brush. In places these lethal works would be up to a thousand cubits long. But these would only be the beginning.

     Dozens of positions would be built and camouflaged, high above the ground, in the tops of trees. Other positions were to be prepared, at strategic points, by digging holes in the ground on one side or the other of the few foot paths there were leading through the dense woods. Large enough to hold two or three defenders they would be concealed by light trap doors covered with squares of sod and other living vegetation.

     Both could be used by archers or others using hollow tubes through which could be blown 'Wizard's Toothpicks': Long, thin, metal darts coated with a deadly, fast acting, poison.

     Their plan was simple. Once warned an attack was on the way they would launch a spoiling attack of their own. After disrupting the enemy's initial advance they would endeavor to draw Kuhlamann's minions into the forest where their main force would be waiting to give them a proper reception.

     The Sorcerer's men would find penetrating beyond the tree line a difficult and bloody proposition. But this being only the first of several, similar, lines of defensive works; the deeper the Sorcerer's black clad devils penetrated into the forest's gloom the fewer would be likely to make it back out alive.

     The forest itself would make it impossible for Kuhlamann's troops to maintain contact with each other. Unable to move and fight as cohesive formations, broken up into much smaller disorganized groups, being struck down by arrows and poisoned darts from every direction, never knowing when or where they might impale themselves on the long, murderously sharp Abatis, their destruction would be swift and sure. At least such was the theory and their fervent hope.

     Every available man, woman, and child was pressed into service. Not a single hand was idle; Xena, Gabrielle, and Gander included. Work began well before sunrise and continued, virtually without letup, until well past dusk. Every moment of every day they labored and struggled with the ever present fear of Kuhlamann striking. When the blow did not fall they thanked all the gods for every precious moment of that peaceful day.

     For them every day they were given was borrowed time. They were now involved in a race with the Fates themselves; who they could visualize holding all of their threads with shears poised for the fatal snip.

     For four, almost five, days they toiled, sweat, and strained at their grueling labors. For four nights they all dragged themselves back to their pallets for a few hours of exhausted sleep with little assurance the next dawning wouldn't bring their destruction.

     Whether due to the gracious clemency of the gods, the arrogantly indifferent attitude of the Sorcerer, or both, no one would ever be certain; but by sunset of the fifth day their frantic efforts came to an end. They had, somehow, succeeded in accomplishing what they had initially thought impossible. Their formidable defenses were in place. They had transformed vast portions of the forest into an enormous abattoir which was now open for business; lacking only the requisite victims.

     With the dawning of the new day it was discovered that a large wild boar had run afoul of one of the man traps making up the settlements perimeter defenses; with fatal results for the pig. Whether true or not this was seen as a propitious sign by the people of Al Fahd who proceeded to dress out, spit, and roast the unfortunate animal. If nothing else it served as an excuse for, and the ready means of having, a feast.

     As far as Xena, Gabrielle, and Gander were concerned they had all earned a day in which to rest, eat, and enjoy themselves. Throughout the entire morning all were pleasantly tortured by the aroma of cooking meat wafting throughout the settlement. Gander had contributed to the affair by conjuring up a barrel of Mead. However he preferred his wine which he consumed by the large cup full; though it didn't seem to have much of an intoxicating effect on him.

     A good nights rest, combined with the prospect of a feast in the making, had an amazing effect on the people of Al Fahd. Most were now cheerful though they'd been filled with dread the day before. While even the youngsters had been exhausted at the end of the previous day they were now overflowing with energy.

     As the morning progressed games and tests of strength and skill sprang up spontaneously and by noon the entire community had become filled with a festive spirit. By late afternoon the boar was :judged to be ready and the feasting began in earnest.

     As evening approached and all had eaten their fill the people turned to less demanding forms of entertainment. Gathered around a huge bon-fire they were all entertained by a number of rousing, heroic, stories which were spun by Gabrielle who kept them all entranced and on edge with her tales of daring-do.

     Then, with the coming of sunset, Gander proceeded to both excite and confound them with brilliant examples of harmless magic. Finally, after Gander had finished his display, and as the fire burned down to embers, those who were musically inclined brought out their simple instruments and began to play while others possessed of fine voices, took turns or sometimes joined together to sing the folk songs of their land.

     Some of these were rather sad airs while others were fast paced and jaunty but all were surprisingly good. Gander, having heard she too had a fine singing voice, was finally able to convince Xena to take part in the entertainment.

     Though she felt a bit self-conscious at first it wasn't long before she got into her songs. Before she was done she had shown an entirely different side of herself to those with whom she had been living and working for so long. When she had finished the cheers and applause, coming as it did from the villager's hearts, touched and moved Xena in a way she had not experienced for a very long time: Not since she was a young girl, barely in her teens, taking part in similar festivities in her own village before the warlord's raid.

     Finally, with the fire almost out, the tired but happy villagers began to make their way back to their shelters and their beds. Walking a little slowly, behind Xena and Gabrielle, Gander was filled with both happiness and sad foreboding at the same time. Happiness for the good times the day had brought and sadness over the prospect of what he knew was coming.

     He could feel it deep inside him. Kuhlamann was going to deliver his blow and he was going to do so very soon. He also knew that when it came to pass at least some of those with whom they had shared the evenings entertainment would die. When it came to pass this day's smiles and laughter would be replaced by expressions of deep grief and lamentations of heart breaking mourning. But there was nothing for it. Such was life.

     It wasn't quite light when something indefinable woke Xena and Gander; each in their own tents. Having gotten his boots on Gander had just stepped out of his tent when Xena came from the one she shared with Gabrielle.

     "Gander," she said, "do you know where Gabrielle is?"

     "No," he said looking about.

     Then they saw her. She was a short distance away with her back to them. She appeared as a black silhouette as she stood facing the sun which was rising blood red beneath mountainous, black, storm clouds. From time to time bolts of lightning were to be seen, ripping through the blackness of the clouds, striking the far distant earth.

     Without a word or even a look at one another both Gander and Xena walked out to where Gabrielle stood, unmoving, almost like a statue carved from stone. When they reached her they saw she was weeping silently, rivulets of tears, glinting red in the light of the rising sun, were trickling down her cheeks.

     Shocked by the sight Xena was about to ask her what was wrong when Gander spoke first.

     "Was it a realy bad dream?"

     Gabrielle dropped her head and nodded slightly. Then she looked up at both Xena and the Wizard.

     "Gander ... do you remember the first day we met and my saying I wished I could tell the future?" she asked.

     Gander locked her eyes with his and nodded his head.

     "Yes," he said.

     "And do you remember what you told me then?" Gabrielle asked.

     "Yes Gabrielle," he said, very softly. "I said you wouldn't care for the nightmares which go with that particular power."

     "Well now I know what you meant and if what I had was not just a nightmare, if it was a portent, then our runners from the outposts are on their way, with the alarm, even as I speak. If what I saw is real, Gander, a lot of people are going to die today."

     Xena put her arms around her friend.

     "Look Gabrielle," she said, "it was just a bad dream. I know about such things. I have them all the time. They don't mean anything."

     "How often," Gander asked, "has she had such powerful dreams?"

     Xena looked at the Wizard for a moment but it was Gabrielle who answered.      

     "Never before." she said emphatically. "Not like this. This was the first of its kind ... and I hope it's the last."

     As they stood there Gander began to have an eerie feeling. Then he noticed that while it was morning there was no bird song to be heard. The air was warm and heavy, almost oppressive, and dead calm. There wasn't even the sound of insects; not even a cricket. Then he knew what had awakened him. It was as though the very earth itself was holding its breath in anticipation of an immanent, natural, disaster or ...WAR.

     It was then Gander made up his mind.

     "Xena," he said, "rouse the settlement. See to it the fighters are up, prepared, fed, and ready. If it's a false alarm they can always go back to sleep later. But now I too have the feeling this is the day Kuhlamann will strike. While you are doing that I'm going to take flight for the pass to see what's shaking up there."

     No sooner said than done. In moments he had gone through his transformation and taken flight heading toward the crest of the pass. Climbing higher and higher as he flew toward the pass he was able to see an increasingly greater amount of the terrain below him.

     Normally this was the most pleasing and personally rewarding aspect of flight for him. But on this occasion the breath taking, natural, spectacle laid out before him was of no consequence. Deeply concerned he expended every effort to put on as much speed as possible.

     As he rapidly approached the highest point of the pass and the observation post which had been established there he caught sight of movement on the trail just ahead. Losing height quickly he swooped down for a closer look.

     There, below him, were all four of the young men who had been assigned to watch the pass. They were running so fast and hard it almost seemed their feet weren't even touching the ground.

     Normally, if something had been seen only one or, at most, two of the four man detail were supposed to make the run to the settlement with a report of what had been seen. But now all four had taken to their heels. This could mean only one thing. They had seen something so terrible or powerful that it had scared the living daylights out of them and they were making a bee-line for the forest and its defenses.

     Climbing higher again he streaked over the observation post heading down the other side of the pass and there he saw the reason for the young men's speedy departure. No less than four hundred mounted men at arms, all wearing the Sorcerer's fearful, black, uniforms.

     The main column stretched back quite a ways as they were riding in column of twos. Unlike the last time the Sorcerer's cavalry came up the pass this time they had a point element of ten mounted archers. Also they were taking no chances of being ambushed at close quarters. On either side of the main column there was a widely separated line of riders, also armed with bows, guarding their flanks.

     Climbing still higher Gander began flying and gliding in wide circles over the mighty cavalcade as it progressed toward the top of the pass. From what he was able to see the Sorcerer's force was comprised of three types of fighting men. Those in the lead, on the flanks, and another formation of considerable size, making up the rear guard, were archers. The remainder of the main force was divided fairly evenly between light cavalry, armed only with swords and shields, and heavy cavalry who were wearing a greater amount of armor and were armed with lances in addition to their swords and shields.

     This time there would be no turning them around. At least not by means of any ruse. Gabrielle's nightmare had been all too real and a great many men were likely to die within the next few hours. Gander's only hope was the great majority of the dying would be done by the Sorcerer's minions.

     Having seen all he needed Gander headed back to the forest and the settlement as fast as his wings and a light tail wind would take him. As fast on their feet as the men from the out-post were Gander still arrived back at the settlement some time before them.

     By now the entire area in the immediate vicinity of the settlement was a scene of near frenzied activity. Immediately after landing and transforming himself Xena approached him on the run with Gabrielle, once again in her armor, hot on her heels. There was no way to sugar-coat his grim tidings so he didn't even try.

     "Four hundred mounted warriors and a third of them archers?!" Gabrielle gasped.      

     Shortly after Gander had taken flight for the pass runners from the valley outpost had arrived at the settlement with the news that a large force of the Sorcerer's infantry were on the move and heading their way.

     "Between his cavalry and the infantry force of at least three hundred which marched out of the fortress well before dawn," Xena said, "Kuhlamann has committed between seven and eight hundred men to this attack. He's not playing around any more. Somehow he has assembled this huge force and now he's orchestrating a coordinated, two pronged, attack. This time he intends to finish us once and for all."

     "I'm afraid that's about the size of it Xena." said Gander, "And the way he's going about it is going to force us to split our already small force."

     Looking as grim as they had ever seen him Gander paused for a few moments contemplating their best course of action.

     "Would you agree," he asked Xena, "that the cavalry poses the most serious threat?"

     "Yes." she said with certainty. "And somehow we have to prevent them from linking up with the Sorcerer's infantry. Otherwise they may be able to overpower us; by shear weight of numbers."

     "Then that decides it." Gander said solemnly. "You will take charge of half our fighters and meet the infantry advancing on us from Al Fahd. Akress and I will take the rest of the fighters and meet the Sorcerer's mounted force. If I must use my powers before confronting Kuhlamann head to head so be it.

     "Those horsemen don't know it, yet, but they are in for the ride of their lives. There are things I can do which will drive their horses completely ding-bats. When I do they're all likely to find themselves doing some 'flying' of their own. Oh yes. Many of them are likely to learn the full meaning of a very old saying."

     "What saying would that be?" Gabrielle asked.

     "The one," Gander said, "about how it isn't the fall kills you. It's the sudden stop."      

     It was a rather shop-worn joke but under the circumstances, with everyone's nerves as tight as a bow string, it had the desired effect and gave everyone a good chuckle.

     "We'd better get moving." Xena said.

     "Yes. Your right of course," said Gander. "We can't keep Kuhlamann's nasty little demons waiting."

     Mounting Argo Xena headed over to where half of the men and women of Al Fahd stood waiting in ranks. Looking them over critically she concluded that while they were anything but professionals they had improved greatly. At least they were no longer a disorganized mob of peasant farmers and village shop keepers and she was confident they would perform well against the Sorcerer's spiritually and brain-dead troops.

     Preferring to remain afoot, as usual, Gabrielle joined the village elder who was acting as second in command of this half of their forces.

     "All right. Let's move out!" Xena shouted.

     At a barked command from the elder the defenders, formed in two long ranks, faced right. At a second command they stepped off smartly in unison. Then, at a third command, they broke into a loping, distance eating, trot; all maintaining the same cadence. Looking over her shoulder Xena thought that for a scratch army they might actually do quite well. At the least they wouldn't be the helpless victims the Sorcerer's men had butchered with such ease before the gates of Al Fahd.

     At the same time Akress, leading the other half of their forces with Gander, once one again transformed and flying ahead of them, headed for the opposite end of the forest. Gander had told Akress that it was likely their force would be the first to contact and engage the enemy.

     Arriving at their prepared positions about a half hour later Akress and Gander began deploying their people. About twenty of their archers were kept together at the edge of the forest closest to the approaching enemy cavalry. Theirs would be the questionable honor of launching the first flights of arrows of the engagement. The remaining archers, about thirty in number, were positioned at intervals under cover of the tree line, all along the verge of the track.

     Interspersed with these archers were others armed with blow tubes and pouches of the lethal little 'Wizard's Toothpicks.' The orders they had all been given were as brutal as they were simple. If a rider could not be hit, immediately, his mount was to be targeted instead. But one way or another the enemy had to be stopped. Right there!

     If so powerful a force were able to fight its way through, more or less intact, it would almost certainly fall on Xena's flank with devastating results. So there they stood; each of them grimly determined to prevent the enemy's passage or die defending his or her ground.

     At her end of the forest Xena was also busy seeing to the best possible deployment of her defenders. For her, though, the problem wasn't as difficult. The fight she was preparing for was likely to be a comparatively simple infantry engagement.

     What was wanted was to bloody the enemy but not so much that Kuhlamann would hold back his troops; rather just enough to thoroughly enrage him and cause him to commit his infantry to an all out assault on their defences. Xena wanted them to charge and force their way into the forest. If she could draw the Sorcerer's infantry into the labyrinth of their interior defensive works Xena knew it would take her force less than an hour to destroy Kuhlamann's infantry in detail.

     Xena also determined her opening move would be to lead thirty of her best archers out of the forest and down the track in a spoiling attack. At a pre-determined location, some distance from the tree line and the first of their defensive works, they would engage the leading enemy formation with flight after flight of arrows.

     But they would not attempt to hold ground. Instead they would fall back toward the forest and their main force with Kuhlamann's men, hopefully, breathing down their necks. Enraged, lusting for blood, and again she hoped, not paying attention to what he, Kuhlamann, was really getting his troops into.

     While she was making final dispositions of her people Gabrielle stated her intentions to accompany her with the attack force. What Gabrielle could not have known, and wouldn't fully realize until later, was Xena's old persona, only slightly mellowed by time, had taken full control of her friend's every thought and action.

     Xena, her eyes cold and piercing, simply shook her head.

     "No." she said with a hard edge to her voice.

     Gabrielle took a step back. The cold, cruel, expression on Xena's face and her icy tone had shaken her badly and it showed.

     "Look Gabby," she said a little less coldly, "with our first flight of arrows things are going to begin happening faster than anything you have ever experienced. By the time we make it back here the Sorcerer's troops are going to be all over us like a cheap robe. I want you back here with the main force."

     Gabrielle wanted to object and she tried but Xena took hold of her by her upper arms and all but shook her.

     "I know you've always covered my back and, in a way, that's what I need for you to do now. But not out there. Right here is where I need you because right here is where we stop running. Here is where we turn and fight."

     All the while the strength of Xena's grip on Gabrielle's upper arms had increased to the point of being quite painful. When she released her grip there were deep red marks left on Gabrielle's arms.

     Instinctively Gabrielle knew she was seeing something very different in her friend. Something she'd only rarely seen before. Something which began to frighten her more than the prospect of facing the Sorcerer's impending attack.

     But before she could say or do anything Xena turned on her heel, motioned for her party of archers to follow, and took off at a loping trot. She didn't even look back.

     Now, out in the open, leading her force against desperate odds, the fierce, powerful, deadly warrior within Xena was once again in her element. Every rapid step she took, bringing her ever closer to the enemy, caused her pulse to quicken. All her senses became increasingly elevated.

     Her sight became sharper, her hearing, even her sense of smell became more acute. Scents of grasses, wild herbs, and flowers which normally might go un-noticed had suddenly become like a powerful perfume. Her every move became more and more fluid. The enemy she was running toward, controlled and directed as it was by the fell power of sorcery, was deadly. Yet she had not felt so alive for a very long time.

     At the opposite end of the forest the battle had already been joined. Almost at the last minute it had been decided to allow the dark riders of the point element to pass farther down the track; to be dispatched by archers, and others armed with blow tubes, when the first companies of the main force came under attack.

     When the time was ripe and the front of the enemy's main column had advanced to within an easy stone's throw of Akress, Gander, and their waiting archers, the first flights of arrows were loosed with devastating results. Some two dozen saddles were emptied. Sadly a large number of the enemy's mounts were also badly injured or killed outright.           Their onslaught caused quite a commotion which didn't go un-noticed by those who comprised the advanced guard. But as these attempted to wheel about they too were felled by a veritable cloud of missiles. Arrows struck deeply into the bodies of horses and riders alike. Others experienced the lethal sting of Wizard's Toothpicks as they embedded themselves in living flesh; their poison flowing quickly, with every heart beat, through the blood-streams of their victims.

     This opening stage had gone to the men and women of Al Fahd but the battle had only just begun. The survivors of the lead company brought their mounts sharply about and quickly withdrew out of range.

     Kuhlamann, standing over a large vessel of black stone which was filled with crystal clear water, watched images of the developing fight projected onto the calm, liquid, surface; his brow furrowed in stunned disbelief which rapidly became a terrible rage. Only with difficulty did he manage to get hold of his emotions and begin to consider these unexpected and decidedly unpleasant events in a coldly analytical manner.

     Who, he wondered, were these people who had begun to oppose him and interfere with his carefully laid plans. Up to this point the only people he knew to exist in the forest were the survivors from the village; peasant farmers, shop keepers, and the like. These had been easily slaughtered for their impudence. It had taken only a small number of his warrior vassals to rout the cheeky rabble. Not much more than a corporal's guard. They had moved through that crowd of rubes like so many reapers through a field of wheat. The bloody carnage and, especially, the intense emotions of fear, horror, and shear terror had been most rewarding, not to mention, energizing and empowering.

     Forced to flee their homes with little more than the clothes on their back Kuhlamann just couldn't conceive of the possibility of those peasants, and the warriors who had just butchered so many of his vassals, being one and the same.

     Something was very wrong with the picture Kuhlamann was seeing. Determined to find out just what it was and using the senses of his vassals he began to extend his power. Before long he was able to detect the presence of a sizable number of people; a hundred or more. But where he could sense emotions there was little by way of fear and not the slightest trace of terror. Nor was there any grief or sadness.

     But there was one person in particular who stood out due to a complete emotional, even spiritual, calmness. It was a very rare individual, Kuhlamann knew, who could maintain such great control so close to the scene of a major battle.

     While he found this one person quite interesting Kuhlamann knew he had to act, at once, or risk losing a great many more of his vassals; which were still rather difficult for him to bring into being. He had no need to actually see the deadly defensive works to know they were their. Though theirs was a substantial force they were still outnumbered four or five to one. Hence it followed they would not stand their ground in such an inviting fashion unless they were deliberately trying to draw his men into close combat, deep within the forest's gloom, where in spite of their smaller numbers they would hold an advantage.

     So no. Kuhlamann was not going to waste any more of his time or assets in dealing with them. Not now. He had a premonition those in the forest were part of a larger, more sophisticated, threat. A threat which might require his combined forces in order to deal with it successfully.

     Having made his decision Kuhlamann directed his force of mounted warriors to immediately move to the opposite side of the pass and while his archers kept their counterparts, in the woods, occupied the remainder of his cavalry would simply by-pass the bothersome position all-together and proceed to join up with his infantry. Then he would have sufficient strength to begin the process of clearing the forest of these irritating people.

     Seeing the head of the enemy column execute an oblique movement to their left, while their archers redoubled their return fire, Gander knew what was happening.

     Well that's that, he though to himself. They were obviously going to by-pass them and continue on down the pass and there was no way Gander could allow such a thing to happen.

     For the first time Gander had felt the Sorcerer extending his power and he knew Kuhlamann was probably beginning to become suspicious. Well, within the next few seconds, Kuhlamann would have far more than suspicion to go on.

     Stepping boldly out of the tree line, into the open, he extended both of his arms straight out in front of him. Gathering his power he first engaged Kuhlamann's archers who, at the time, were fighting afoot.

     No small globes of merely debilitating energy this time. Not with these evil beings. This time the force he projected, intense beams of brilliant light, were hideously fatal as they instantly burned cavities completely through the torsos of the enemy bowmen. One after another, when hit, dropped their weapons; collapsing into smouldering, dead, heaps.      

     In less than a minute those black clad archers who had been trying to keep them occupied were dead. Akress, Aldhoc, and all the other men and women of Al Fahd stood there mutely, in shock, after witnessing this display of what they thought to be Gander's full capabilities. All remembered their first meeting with the Wizard and shuddered with this new appreciation of just how fortunate they had really been.

     However Gander was anything but finished with the Sorcerer's troops. Indeed he hadn't even warmed up yet. With no further threat from enemy archers Gander changed the manner in which he projected his power.

     Now, instead of the intense beams of energy he began emitting huge clouds of what appeared to be large sparks. In a matter of seconds the clouds of 'sparks' had traversed the full width of the pass and enveloped a large percentage of the enemy cavalry. The 'sparks' were actually miniature versions of what the villagers themselves had so unpleasantly experienced. However, instead of knocking one senseless, they burned like so many fiery embers.

     When the 'sparks' came in contact with the dark riders they slapped and brushed at them quite desperately. Of course, while doing so, they were no longer in control of their mounts and whenever the 'sparks' came in contact with a horse the animal reacted by going quite insane.

     All along the long line of cavalry horses began to rear and buck, leaping high into the air to land with bone jarring jolts. Before long half the enemy's number had been rudely ejected from their saddles, landing oh so painfully, often fatally, on the rocky, stone strewn, ground.

     Kuhlamann, staring into the calm, dark, pool was anything but calm himself. He could scarcely credit what his own eyes and senses were showing him. What had begun as a triumphant procession of some of the finest cavalry in the world had become a debacle which was well along toward becoming a complete rout.

     First it had been the so-called Queen of the Amazons. Then the warrior woman had appeared. Now! Now a Wizard had made his appearance.

     Completely incensed he fumed at the very Fates. But then, deep within his mind, he imagined he could hear the voice of his own, one time, Master laughing uproariously at his present plight. He could still hear the Dark One saying over and over again:

     "Boy. If you never learn anything else you had better remember this. If you are able to cause terror or rage to take control of your opponent victory will be yours. But, if ever you allow such emotions to take control of you, and your opponent is strong, defeat will be your sole reward."

     Snapping himself out of the state he'd been in the Sorcerer realized the only way to preserve the remainder of his force was to turn them around and have them withdraw; which was precisely what he proceeded to do. But, while he was doing so, he continued to study the cause of his latest set-back attempting to determine what might be the true extent of this Wizard's powers. Whoever you are, Kuhlamann thought darkly, there will be a price for you to pay. It will be quite dear and you will pay it in full.

     Seeing the Sorcerer's horsemen, those upon whom he had yet to visit his wrath, turning and departing, Gander lowered his arms and allowed himself to relax. At the same time Akress and all but a few of his fighters, who had been struck down by arrows, broke cover and headed at a run for the other side of the pass. There those who had not been killed or incapacitated when thrown from their saddles were attempting to scramble to their feet and flee. Though somewhat greater in number these survivors of Gander's demonstration were in no condition to put up much of a fight and all were quickly sent on their way to Hades.

     Gander continued to stand, motionless, where he was. He could feel the young, black hearted, Sorcerer's hateful power and he knew he was being scrutinized very thoroughly. Expecting this he had left one of his staffs behind and by remaining quite still he would not reveal his lameness. While Kuhlamann was now aware of the presence of a Wizard in his back yard Gander intended to keep him very much in the dark as to who he was and just how unpleasant he could make things for the young Sorcerer.

     For some time Gander continued to stand there as wave after wave of Kuhlamann's power washed over him. But then, quite suddenly, there was nothing.

     While he wasn't certain Gander guessed something else was beginning to happen; something sufficiently important to draw the Sorcerer's attention away from him. Had he been a betting man Gander would have wagered his last coin the cause of this sudden shift of Kuhlamann's attention was Xena.

     About a league from the forest Xena found ground to her liking, located in a hollow, where the track dipped then rose again before continuing downward toward the valley below. Here there were few trees and little cover. But that was fine. The whole idea was to play hare for the Sorcerer's hounds. They wanted the black clad devils to pursue them; all the way back into their killing ground.

     Dividing her archers into three groups of ten each she arranged them in files which she positioned athwart the track; each file behind the other and separated by about forty cubits. Then giving them leave to stand easy or settle themselves on the ground, where they were, she proceeded to trot on, further down the track, to where she would be able to watch for the first sign of the enemy's approach.

     Laying flat to avoid being silhouetted, on the higher ground where she was, she studied the track out to where it curved out of sight and settled down to wait. The storm which had seemed so imminent earlier had passed them by and the late morning sun warmed her.

     Had it not been for the deadly nature of the business at hand the bright, clear, sky and the panoramic scene spread out before her would have been quite pleasing. But now she strained to hear the first sounds of marching men, the rattle and clank of arms and equipment, and watched intently for any sudden flight of birds or movement of small animals which would give the earliest warning of the enemy's approach.

     The insects had long since renewed their song and between this and the increasing warmth of the sun Xena was beginning to feel drowsy in spite of herself. Then, suddenly, a number of ground dwelling birds took to the air all at once and Xena came wide awake again.

     Then, a few moments later, a couple of small hares came scurrying up the path; finally veering off into the taller grass to either side of the track. Totally alert she turned her head from side to side trying somehow to increase the sensitivity of her hearing.

     Less than a minute later there came, on the gentle breeze, the sound she'd been waiting to hear; the sound of an army moving in strength. Even as she watched the first file of the Sorcerer's troops came into view and seeing them she quickly crawled backward until she was where she could stand without being seen: Then she was off and running

     Seeing her coming at a dead run her archers came to their feet and with no word of command calmly fit arrow to bow. Xena found the quiet, matter-of-fact, manner in which they prepared themselves for battle both gratifying, in that she had trained them all, and comforting, as it gave some indication of their moral and how they might behave in the face of the advancing enemy.

     As she came up on them she confirmed what they had already guessed.

     "They are coming," she said, "and they should be in range in a minute or so. Now. Do you remember how we're going to do this?"

     Though they nodded in an affirmative manner she went over it one more time.      

     "Remember, the first we should see of them will be the tips of their spears as they climb this rise," she said while pointing. "When we see their spear points they will be plenty close enough for us to let fly. At that point we will still be below their line of sight.

Between the element of surprise and their initial inability to see us here, we should be able to make them bleed and cause at least some confusion in their ranks.

     "Once they are over the rise we will begin shooting and withdrawing by files. The first file shoots then turns about and moves, at a trot, through the second and third files and keeps going for about forty cubits.

     "At this point it turns and prepares to shoot again; becoming the third file. At the same time the second file, which is now the first file, shoots and then withdraws in the same manner until it has become the third file and on and on it goes; until we are back at our outer defensive line. Are there any questions?"

     There were none.

     "All right," she said, let's do it!"

     Then she positioned herself at the far left of the first file, drew her sword from its scabbard, and waited.

     Separated as they were, by the terrain, the only way they had of telling how rapidly Kuhlamann's troops were closing the distance was by the ever increasing sound of their marching feet and the rattle and banging of their weapons and equipment. Watching out the corner of her eye she saw more than one of her archers taking the time to rub their sweating palms on their clothes. That was all right though. If anyone had a right to be nervous they did.

     Finally they saw what they had been waiting for. The first line of black spear heads outlined against the sky. Raising her sword high, at about the angle she wanted them to aim, she held it there for a couple of heart beats before snapping it downward.

     At that instant thirty deadly missiles took flight describing a high arc before whistling downward to disappear from sight. Even before this first flight had made its descent another was on the way. By using her sword as an indicator, raising or lowering the angle at which they let fly, Xena was able to orchestrate a sort of raking fire up and down the ranks of the enemy column.

     That their arrows were having the desired effect was beyond doubt. While there was no shouting, cursing, or screaming, the sound of steadily marching feet had been replaced by that of arms and armor crashing to the ground and what sounded more like the confused stampeding of a herd of animals. Using her ears now, as much as her eyes, she listened to the panicked sounds and, again, using her sword to point either left or right of center, she caused still more flights of arrows to be launched toward where she suspected the enemy were running in their attempt to escape the whispering, whistling, death from above.

     Kuhlamann stood there, watching in utter disbelief, as his lead company of a hundred men were decimated before his very eyes and it was almost more than he could manage to regain full control of the situation. While directing his second and third companies to halt where they were, still just out of the range of the unseen bowmen, he was able to turn the survivors of the leading company around and have them fall back. Then, extending his power further, he sensed the comparatively small and loosely formed group of archers about two or three hundred cubits ahead.

     Well, he thought to himself, they've had their fun. Now it's my turn. About a third of his first company had been killed or so badly wounded they were out of action. The remainder, about sixty five men, he formed up as a widely separated line of skirmishers and he caused his second company to do the same. This way it would be far more difficult for whoever these archers were to inflict massive casualties; and when his men got their hands on them ...

     The sudden silence was deafening to Xena. She had signaled her archers to cease shooting when the frenetic noises, from the other side of the rise, died away. For a few moments she stood there wondering what Kuhlamann was up to. But then she realized she'd been here and done this many times before.

     "All right!" she shouted. "I think they are forming lines of skirmishers! That means they are going to be pretty much spread out! They are likely to come on fast; so change of plans! We start leapfrogging back, now, and lengthen the interval between files to sixty cubits! And above all pick your targets well! Now! ... Move!"

     The threat to her small force had been far more dire and immediate than even she had suspected. One half of Kuhlamann's third company were archers and only a few moments after she'd begun their staged withdrawal fifty arrows sprouted from the earth where they had just been standing.

     At the same time the first enemy skirmish line crested the rise; coming on at a good trot. With their shields up and their spears leveled, trotting in cadence, Xena had to admire the black uniformed devils even as she loathed them.

     Once again raising her sword, then snapping it earthward, she sent a flight of ten, well aimed, shafts on their way. There were two or three near misses but the remainder lodged in seven or eight of the advancing foe. Most of these hits, she could tell, were not fatal but they certainly stopped or slowed down those who had been hit.

     In motion now, with no further need of command, her first file of archers had passed through the other two and the next file was ready. Again the terrible missiles flew and again six or seven of the enemy fell, writhing, to the ground.

     Then Kuhlamann's archers came up, in line abreast, and an archery duel ensued. Because they did make a comparatively small and continuously moving target the Sorcerer's archers had trouble finding the range. But, inevitably, they began scoring hits. The first was a young woman not much more than a girl. She'd taken an arrow in her upper thigh and began to fall behind.

     In spite of her wound she calmly turned and faced the line of enemy soldiers bearing down on her. Fitting one arrow after another to her bow she aimed and let fly, time after time, taking a toll of Kuhlamann's men. But one of the Sorcerer's archers finally put a shaft through the young woman's chest and she crumpled to the ground, dead.

     Another of her men caught an arrow through his arm. The pain must have been great but, knowing what awaited him if he fell behind, he stayed on his feet and kept on moving.

     "You can't shoot any more!" Xena shouted, having seen his situation, "So there's no reason for you to stay with us! Keep going! Get back to the forest!" This he did with a wave of his good hand.

     A third youngster spun about and dropped with a shaft through his throat and a fourth, another of the young women, sprouted an arrow from her side but, somehow, kept moving.

     Slowly her small force was being whittled down but there was very little Xena could do about it. Just keep shooting and scooting. That was all there was.

     As the number of her archers slowly shrank Kuhlamann's infantry became ever bolder. With the verge of the forest finally in view a couple of the Sorcerer's men became down-right obnoxious.

     Fleet of foot they had the misfortune of catching up with Xena. The swiftest of the two was only a few cubits behind her, close enough for her to hear his panting, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks, spun about, and relieved the man of the burden of his head.      

     This unfortunate's companion never even saw the toe of the booted foot which caught him, squarely under his chin, with all the force Xena could muster. Flying backward, his neck broken, his spinal cord severed, he was dead before he hit the ground.           Xena was still in the rear guard position when her archers, their quivers depleted, sent the last of their arrows on their way. By now they were only a hundred or so cubits from the verge of the forest and the first of their prepared defenses. Throughout the chase Kuhlamann's archers had supplanted his infantry as the lead element in the front line of his pursuing troops. Though her archers had inflicted heavy punishment on the enemy they had suffered a number of casualties themselves.

     Seven of their number would never return and four more had shafts embedded in various, fleshy, parts of their bodies. With no more arrows to shoot Xena had shouted for them to all turn and run for their lives, which they had done with no need of further prompting, while Xena continued to trail a short distance behind.

     The defenders, just inside the tree line, sprang to swing sets of the ugly, sharp, stakes out of position; allowing the speedy passage of Xena's raiders. All but a few of them had made it safely into the cover of the woods when Gabrielle, who was at the forefront of their main force, saw first one then another arrow strike Xena down.

     Both had grazed her; the first slicing her upper left arm and spinning her about. The second had caused a gash on her right leg, just above the knee, which caused her to stumble and fall.

     There had been no time for conscious thought. Saying not a word and not bothering to look to see if any would follow her Gabrielle was in motion. In a blink of an eye she was through one of the openings. Several of the enemy were practically on top of Xena who, stunned and in some pain, was only just getting to her feet.

     One of the enemy, an archer, drew down on Xena's back. No one, Gabrielle least of all, would ever know how she managed it but she had just come up even with Xena, who's back was still to the enemy, when the archer let fly.

     Again, with no time to think, merely reacting instinctively, Gabrielle placed her staff between Xena's back and the missile. Her amazement and relief knew no bounds when the arrow struck the brass cap of her staff and rebounded, harmlessly, away.

     By then more than a dozen of their men who, seeing Xena go down, and having followed close on Gabrielle's heels, moved between them and the enemy soldiers who were now on top of them. Still others from the woods came up and, taking hold of Xena, half carried, half dragged, her back beyond the tree line.

     The first ten or so of the Sorcerer's men were now heavily engaged with Gabrielle and those who had followed her out to Xena's aid. More of the Sorcerer's men would have gladly fallen upon them as well but fresh archers, just inside the tree line, launched a cloud of arrows which felled a number of Kuhlamann's men and succeeded in forcing the others in the immediate area to withdraw.

     Never before had Gabrielle moved or struck with such speed or force. She fought as she never had, without the slightest deliberate thought of what she was doing. One after another she engaged enemy warriors, snapping the arms and legs of some as though they were twigs and, their helmets notwithstanding, knocked others completely senseless as she, and those with her, slowly gave ground; retreating to the comparative safety of the forest.

     By now Xena, though bleeding to some e xtent, had overcome her initial shock and was about to re-enter the fray when she saw Gabrielle and the others backing through the openings in the defenses. Then, off to one side, she saw one of the Sorcerer's archers pop up, seemingly from the ground itself, and draw down on Gabrielle. He was too far away for Xena to do anything to prevent his loosing the deadly shaft. Even her Chakram could not be launched in time. With the arrow in flight all she was able to do was to scream the

name of her dearest friend; "Gabrielle!!"

     Hearing Xena's scream Gabrielle had only just begun to turn when the missile struck, with tremendous force, just above the bridge of the nose of her mask. The impact had been enough to knock her straight back, off her feet, just inside the defensive line but the arrow had failed to penetrate and had bounced off, impotently.

     Rushing to where Gabrielle was laying Xena snatched up her staff with one hand and took Gabrielle under her arm with the other. A second defender had just taken hold of Gabrielle's other arm when one of the last, surviving, black clad soldiers loomed over them with his sword raised, ready to strike. Both Xena and the man trying to help her drag Gabrielle to safety were in awkward positions; unable to prevent the blow from being delivered.

     Far faster than the human eye could follow, 'Spike' was out of his small scabbard, in the top of Gabrielle's staff, and lodged deeply in the enemy soldier's throat where it proceeded to twist and turn wildly before withdrawing. A moment later it pulled free and with it came a huge, spurting, spray of blood from the man's severed artery.

     The sword dropped from his near lifeless hand. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground; his dying heart pumping the remainder of his life blood, like a ghoulish fountain, high into the air.

     Silently but most fervently Xena thanked all gods for the Wizard, his loving concern for Gabrielle, and his efforts in producing the armor and magnificent weapon which had twice saved Gabrielle's life within the space of only a few seconds.

     As Gabrielle regained her footing others swung the rack of vicious stakes back in place and all withdrew a short distance to await Kuhlamann's next move. Reaching a place of concealment Xena and Gabrielle embraced each other.

     "When I saw you go down," said Gabrielle, "I thought, for a second, I'd lost you."

     "You gave me an equal fright," said Xena, "when you took that arrow in the face: And again when that soldier was standing over us, with his sword raised. There was nothing I could do. Had it not been for 'Spike' ... "

     They both looked at the short brass knob at the top of Gabrielle's staff. They hadn't even seen the magical little blade return to it's scabbard. But they could see traces of blood all over it. For some reason it was suddenly important for Gabrielle to ask ...

     "Is he dead?"

     Xena gave her a level look. "Very," she said. "But remember Gander foresaw the possibility of the very thing which just happened. Your little life saver did just what Gander said it would do in a situation like that, and a good thing too. And, even if you'd really had a choice, there was nothing you could have done to stop it. Everything happened entirely too fast."

     Coming back to her senses Gabrielle saw the grazing wounds on Xena's arm and leg.

     "Your bleeding!" she said. "Let me get something to clean and bandage those cuts."

     Xena had been keeping an eye on the behavior of the Sorcerer's troops, in the distance, watching as they reassembled and formed up for a new attack. As Gabrielle began to get to her feet Xena saw what she'd expected and been waiting for.

     Grabbing Gabrielle's arm she jerked her back down. The hard, cold, piercing look had returned to her eyes and the steel hard edge to her voice. Raising her voice she shouted for all to hear ...

     "They're moving their archers up! Everyone! Take cover and hold your arrows! Wait for their infantry to come on and wait for my command to shoot! Pass it on!"

     There was a flurry of furtive movement all over as those not already in their fighting positions made haste to get to where they belonged or sought whatever protective shelter there might be against the deadly rain of missiles about to descend upon them. Within a few moments the first flights of the enemy's arrows were in the air.

     Loosed at a high trajectory they tended to come straight down. Many of these embedded themselves in the limbs of the trees overhead while others were deflected, their velocity decreased, as they passed through several layers of branches and leaves. A few struck close to some of the shooting platforms in the trees but failed to find a target of flesh and blood.

     They were shooting blind and Xena knew this. At the moment the enemy bowmen were only attempting to harass the f orce they knew to be before them. But as their infantry advanced on the verge of the forest they would, almost certainly, lower the trajectory of their shots. Their flights of arrows would then begin impacting only a short distance in front of the leading files of the advancing troops.

     Xena knew these shots would have a much better chance of doing damage and she quickly looked about her. Seeing what she'd been seeking, and continuing to hold Gabrielle firmly by her arm, she took off at a run toward one of the fighting holes, close to the edge of the woods, which appeared to hold only one of their fighters.

     As she approached, with Gabrielle in tow, the trap door opened in time for the both of them to drop to the bottom of the pit. Then just as quickly it was closed again; leaving only a narrow slit through which it was just possible to observe the enemy's advance.

     Kuhlamann had indeed shifted his attention from the, as yet, unknown Wizard at the pass. He had seen the first two pests who had dared oppose him. The one alleging herself to be some sort of queen, of the Amazons no less, and the other, physically larger and stronger, warrior woman.

     He had, through his warrior vassals, come within a whisker's width of successfully disposing of both of them. But they were either incredibly lucky or favored by the very gods; for both had escaped having only been stunned or slightly wounded.

     But perhaps this was for the best. Just the thought of being able to take them alive was enough to make him tremble with anticipation. The power, and the pleasure, he could derive while 'entertaining' them in the dungeon would be great.

     Such was his confidence that he now instructed his vassals that these two women were to be taken captive, at any cost, and brought to him for his personal ministrations. These two seemed fearless at the moment but by the time he was through with them their knowledge of both fear and pain, in all the wondrous forms these could take, would be virtually limitless.

     The young lord Riphanay and his pretty sister were beginning to learn their lessons well and the last of the three village girls, who had proven to be made of tougher stuff, was now almost completely 'educated'. Oh yes. She was now at the point of begging for death on a regular basis. Yet there wasn't the slightest outward mark on her or the others. All he'd had to do was to sow the 'seeds' of the desired forms of agony in their minds. From that point on their own mental processes had done the rest.

     Kuhlamann was slowly but surely extracting the real information and subsequent power he lusted for from the 'Codex'. There was one great problem with the writings of the ancients which had frustrated him and slowed his progress for quite some time. No matter how innocuous a little piece of knowledge might be the Masters of the occult, of antiquity, never expressed it clearly.

     Instead they delighted in obfuscating every morsel of information with page after page of cunningly crafted, utterly nonsensical, mumbo-jumbo. It was quite effective in discouraging all but a very few of the most gifted, and patiently persistent, scholars.

     Well Kuhlamann was one such scholar. He had already gained a great deal of knowledge and learned to apply it to a certain extent. For now his problem, and subsequent weakness, was in extending the range at which he could completely focus the horrendous powers he was so painstakingly acquiring.

     For the moment he could only work his terrible will, to its full extent, at close range. However, a little at a time, the scrolls were yielding their great and terrible secrets. One day, in the foreseeable future, he would no longer require the less than satisfactory services of his warrior vassals. One day he would be capable of merely thinking of a desired end result and make it so. He would be able to either selectively pick and chose his victims or, if he wished, cause the populace of an entire city-state to become mentally un-hinged.                    

     Even now he could visualize pushing whole populations over the brink of madness. He could see them, men, women, children, husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, and each and every one of their offspring, totally deranged, attacking, rending, and ultimately killing one another until none but those he selected as his vassals were left alive.

     One day the whole earth and everything of value in it would be his alone and no one, anywhere, would be able to resist his will. Perhaps, one day, he might even contest with the gods themselves; ... but no. There was an absolute limit to what the power, contained in the 'Codex of Ultimate Evil', would enable him to do. ... Wasn't there?

     As for the reversals he'd been experiencing: These were, he decided, no more than a part of the learning process and of little consequence to what he was certain would be the final outcome. Those who dared to resist him now would either be destroyed or held in thrall by him in the very near future.

     Thinking such thoughts Kuhlamann had again gained complete control of his own emotional state and now watched, with detachment, as his vassals launched their second assault. Line after line of skirmishers, positioned a full arms length apart, their shields held to their front, stepped off together. The ordered precision of their movement was more than impressive; it was awesome. At least Kuhlamann thought so.

     Watching from the protected position of her fighting hole Xena too was impressed. Not so much by the flawless drill of the enemy's formations; this sort of thing she had seen many times before. Rather it was the powerful control the Sorcerer seemed to have over his dark warriors: His ability to literally march them to their own destruction which impressed her while disgusting her at the same time.

     As Kuhlamann's infantry continued their steady advance his archers, now positioned in equal numbers on either flank, unceasingly raked the immediate area of the edge of the forest. So fierce and concentrated were their efforts no living thing could have survived, unprotected, above ground. No less than six arrows had come to earth directly on top of them. Had it not been for the dense clay and tangled roots of the sod over their heads they would have been killed. Of this Xena was certain.

     Then, with the first line of enemy skirmishers less than thirty cubits from the bushes, which concealed the long racks of deadly stakes, the archers ceased shooting, the long and dreadful spears of the enemy infantry were snapped to the horizontal position and acting as one they charged.

     The men and women of Al Fahd, though becoming increasingly edgy, continued to hold back, awaiting Xena's word of command. Some of them had given thought to beginning to shoot then and there but as the seconds passed and the entire situation evolved they saw what was about to happen and smiling they slowly released the tension on their pow strings.

     The enemy's first wave crashed through the bushes. Too late did they see the terrible works awaiting them. Rushing pell-mell to their deaths most of these men impaled themselves and those not killed out-right could only open their mouths, in the silent screams of their death throws, as their own weight dragged them slowly, irresistibly, down the rough hewn shafts.

     The very few, in the first line, who had almost succeeded in stopping in time found themselves being shoved from behind by those in the following line who had not yet perceived the mortal danger ahead. These too met their fate upon the fearful stakes.

     The following lines of skirmishers fared better in this regard. Seeing what had happened to their comrades these troops slowed down and spread out to the left and the right.

     Using their spears and swords they pushed and probed for any opening in the defensive line. Some even began hacking and slashing, with their swords, at the perilous obstructions, attempting to cut a way through.

     This was the precise moment Xena had been waiting for.

     "Now!" she shouted. "Let them have it!"

     Instantly the air was filled with all manner of lethal missiles. Every tree, every bush, even each leaf and blade of grass appeared to conceal a warrior bent on the total annihilation of Kuhlamann's men.

     Once again, before his eyes, gaps began to appear in the well ordered lines of his vassals. One after another of his men seemed to wither and wilt, slumping, falling to the ground, like so many black, dead, leaves.

     How his foes had survived the raking, walking, barrage his archers had delivered was a mystery to him. But it was now apparent he had allowed his infantry to be lead into a deadly trap. Those two bloody women! They had to be witches!

     But how they had evaded his detection was yet another great mystery for the young and near mad Sorcerer. Very well, Kuhlamann decided, let them have the forest for now. By withdrawing at once he could still preserve a substantial portion of his force.

     Between them and his personal, elite, guard of several hundred men, which had remained with him, he could still limit the movement of these rabble and maintain over-all control of everything of real value. He had the 'Codex' and all the time he would need to extract its secrets. Here, in this fortress, with the powerful force he still retained, he was invulnerable and from here he would finally scatter and destroy such presumptuous scum.

     Those of Kuhlamann's troops who'd managed to fight their way into the forest, and had somehow remained alive, suddenly began backing out. Those still tangled in the defensive works also broke off their efforts and began backing away. As soon as the survivors were sufficiently clear the Sorcerer's archers launched yet another barrage of their deadly missiles; forcing their counter-parts in the forest to seek shelter; covering their infantry's withdrawal.

     While his forces may have suffered another defeat Kuhlamann wasn't about to suffer another rout. This time his troops pulled back in good order. With a combination of some of his infantry and his archers acting as a rear guard the remainder reformed ranks, turned about, and marched smartly off; back down the track.

     Standing up in their fighting hole, next to Xena, Gabrielle slowly raised her mask and watched as the enemy marched out of sight.

     "Is that it?" she asked tiredly. "Is it over?"

     "Yes. It's over. At least for now," Xena said with something of a smirk. "He may not be the great warrior he likes to think himself to be but it appears Kuhlamann has finally learned how to run a proper retreat. Now let's count heads and see how high the butcher's bill is going to be."

     Coming as unexpectedly as it had the barrage of arrows, covering the enemy's withdrawal, had caught some of Xena's fighters in the open and a number of them had been hit. Between those she'd lost in the course of the spoiling attack and the fighting there, on the fringes of the forest, the 'butcher's bill', as she'd put it, came to seventeen dead and another eleven wounded; a few of them seriously. Judging by what she saw of the enemy dead and dying they had made Kuhlamann pay a far higher price in terms of numbers lost. But there was one, sickening, difference.

     While there would be no one to mourn the loss of the enemy's dead such was not the case for the people of Al Fahd. If the Sorcerer got his jollies from the suffering and sorrow of others he would certainly be enjoying himself this night. However, Xena thought to herself, the time was coming when she, with Maadrik and the others, would be making a call of their own on the Sorcerer and he wasn't going to enjoy her little visit in the least.

     Gabrielle, looked slowly about her; the sights, sounds, and smells of the field of battle burning themselves indelibly into her memory. A number of their fighters had left the cover of the forest and were now proceeding to finish off the enemy wounded and the carrion eaters had already begun to arrive in ever growing numbers. She watched as the crows and vultures settled themselves for their gruesome feast.

     Her mind numbed, she watched these hideous proceedings with something akin to morbid fascination. But, after a while, the scene laid out before her became entirely too much. What she was witnessing was repellent to everything she believed in. Becoming dizzy, she felt her gorge beginning to rise.

     On legs rapidly weakening and trembling Gabrielle staggered off, seeking a private place away from the loathsome scene. Finally, somewhat deeper in the woods, she sank to her knees.

     Lifting the helmet from her head she slowly turned it in her hands until she looked down upon the burnished steel mask of the Queen of the Amazons. There, dead center, even with the brass eye brows, was a shallow gouge in the steel surface where the enemy arrow had struck with tremendous force. Laying the helmet aside, ever so slowly, she perceived everything as though in the midst of some horrible, unending, nightmare.

     When she had sprung to Xena's aid she had, for a short time, been engaged in combat of the closest sort. Now, looking down upon herself, she became aware for the first time that she was terribly blood splattered. This last, being more than her nerves could cope with, pushed her over the brink. Losing what little control she had left she became violently ill.

     As Xena was organizing aid for her wounded and transportation for the dead the persona of the pure warrior had retired until needed again. Seeing Gabrielle slowly stumbling off into the woods she gave a rapid sequence of orders and, as quickly as she could, followed the trail of scuffed ground and broken twigs Gabrielle had left in her wake.

     Coming upon the pathetic scene Xena stood stock still for a moment feeling as though her own heart was going to break. After all the blood, carnage, and horror of the day the sight of her dearest friend's pitiful condition was nearly enough to send Xena over the edge as well. But some-how she held on to her own senses.

     Quietly she came up behind Gabrielle. Kneeling down she picked up Gabrielle's helmet and looked at the place where the arrow had done its damage. Tying the chin straps together she put it over her arm. Then, bending over Gabrielle, she took her gently under her arms and slowly helped her to her feet. Silently she helped Gabrielle turn in the direction of the settlement and their camp and with Gabrielle leaning heavily on her they moved, slowly, away from the fields of death and destruction.

     As they arrived in the vicinity of the settlement the first soul shredding sounds of men's and women's anguished cries, mourning the loss of their loved ones, rent the air. At the moment there was nothing they could do. Indeed both Xena and Gabrielle were in a sorry state themselves. Passing through the settlement Xena directed their steps toward the brook and a secluded, shallow, pool where they could bathe and clean the gore from themselves and their things.

     After helping Gabrielle remove her armor and clothes she stripped herself and both of them entered the pool. While the day had become extremely hot the water was cold. The shock of the chill water seemed to help bring Gabrielle out of the stupor she'd been in.

     Sitting there, with the current of the water slowly dissolving the unspeakable filth from their bodies and floating it away, Gabrielle slowly lowered her face into her hands; her shoulders began rising and falling with her quiet sobs. Xena knew this for what it was: The essential beginning of the process of healing.

     Finally Gabrielle lifted her face from her hands.

     "I've been in fights before," she said, speaking with some difficulty. "Lots of them. But this ... this ..."

     Slowly she put her arm around Xena's back and leaned her head on her shoulder, her eyes closing, her chin trembling.

     "I know Gabby." Xena said quietly, almost as though she were speaking to herself. "I know. And you're right. You've been through a lot of fights. But today ... today you experienced all out, no quarter, warfare and, ... worse yet, ... today we came terribly close to losing each other. On top of that we've lost quite a few friends and, worst of all, ... it's not ... over ... yet."

     They sat there, in the cold, flowing, water for a long time. Then they bestirred themselves enough to grab their clothes and begin cleaning the blood and dirt from them.

Gabrielle took a great deal of time slowly, carefully, removing the spattered blood from and polishing the now precious armor Gander had given her. Then she reached out for her staff and gently washed, rubbed, and polished the blood from it.

     Taking the small dagger by its hilt she drew it from the top of her staff and took great care in cleansing the seemingly delicate blade which had saved her life. Actually the Wizard's foresight had saved her life twice in the space of only a few moments. How, she wondered, does one adequately thank another for something like that.

     Gently placing the point of the little weapon on the tip of her finger she let go of the hilt. It stood there, balanced, all by itself. Gazing steadily at it she whispered, "Thank you." It amused her when it responded with its little bob of a bow.

     After flushing out the hollow in the brass cap and draining and drying it as well as she could Gabrielle slipped Spike back into its scabbard and got dressed. It was still hot enough that the wet things actually felt good against her skin.

     Xena too had gotten dressed and half kneeling, half bending, picked up Gabrielle's greaves, body armor, and helmet with its fantastic mask. Still moving slowly they made their way back to their camp; avoiding the settlement.

     It wasn't that they didn't care for those who had been lost. It was because they cared too much.

     Shortly after the fighting came to an end Gander took flight. First: He needed to assure himself the Sorcerer's forces were continuing their withdrawal. They were.

     Second: He wanted to survey the two battle fields. From what he saw, from the air, he knew their work was not over. Gander had seen such scenes of carnage many times before and he'd learned at least a few, important, lessons from them.

     The thing upper-most in his mind, at the moment, was the threat of pestilence. While he didn't quite understand the why or where-fore of it Gander did know that after major battles, if large numbers of corpses were allowed to lay out in the sun and rot wide- spread, deadly, plagues soon followed. Many of those fortunate enough to survive the fighting often perished in the course of the epidemics which, almost always, followed soon after. However there was a thing or two people could do to prevent such epidemics from happening.

     Returning to where Akress was assisting with the wounded Gander took him aside and explained the situation as he saw it. The work would be quite disgusting, not to mention back breaking, but the dead, men and horses alike, had to be either buried or cremated and it had to be done quickly.

     Looking out upon the scene of bloody destruction Akress slowly shook his head at the immensity of the task. And the thought of cutting and gathering the wood for pyres of such huge proportions made him cringe.

     Gander didn't need 'magic' to know and appreciate what was concerning the other man.

     "Don't worry about wood for pyres," Gander had said. "Just get the cadavers piled up. Start with the horses. Once you have their bodies laid out, touching one-another, start gathering up the corpses of the Sorcerer's men and stack them on top of the horses. As for setting the whole mess ablaze; leave that to me."

     Once this gruesome work was under way Gander returned to the settlement to see what could be done for the wounded. While there were a number of serious cases the majority of the wounds were of a moderate nature requiring comparatively simple and less time consuming treatment. Working quickly and efficiently it still took Gander several hours to do what was necessary but once he was satisfied his patients would survive he made his way back to camp.

     As he approached he saw Xena sitting by the fire ring. She seemed to be staring down, into the glowing embers, in something of an exhausted daze. Picking up the wine skin and a couple of large cups Gander carried these over and wearily took a seat next to her. Saying not a word he simply poured wine into one of the cups and silently held it out in front of her. Just as silently she reached up, took the cup, put it to her lips and took several long sips of the potent liquid.

     Hearing a slight rustling of movement within the larger of the two tents, and sensing this was not the time to try to draw Xena into conversation, Gander got to his feet again. Picking up another cup he performed just a smidgen of magic; transforming the red wine in the skin to a white wine instead. Something told him Gabrielle might be more than a little sensitive to the sight of any red liquid at the moment.

     Walking over to the entrance Gander scratched at the tent flap and waited.

     "Come in," Gabriel called, her voice tired, and weak.

     She had been stretched out on her cot but, seeing him as he pushed the canvas flap aside and entered, had come to a sitting position on the edge of her cot.

     Again he was aware that, for the moment, silence was truly golden. Settling himself on the cot, next to her, he once again lifted the skin container and poured one of the cups full with the slightly yellowish colored wine. Placing this in Gabrielle's hands he filled his own cup to the brim. Replacing the stopper he laid the wine skin on the ground and took a long sip from his cup.

     He didn't look at her. He didn't need to. He could feel her turmoil and the fatigue it had caused. As his gaze swept the interior of the tent it was arrested by the sight of Gabrielle's helmet and intricate, protective, mask. His eyes were about to move on when something about the appearance of the mask caught his conscious attention. The small but

deep gouge in the steel slightly above, and directly between, the eyes. He had a pretty good idea of the force it had taken to do this damage and the sight of it caused him to become ridged where he sat; his entire body seeming to grow very cold quite suddenly.      

     His reaction did not go un-noticed by Gabrielle. Following the direction of the Wizard's fixed gaze she saw the source of his agitation. Wrapping her arm around his neck and resting it on his shoulder she leaned over, gently kissing him on his cheek.

     "Thank you," she whispered.

     He didn't move and his now grim expression didn't change. But, one at a time, Gabrielle saw tears form at the corners of the Wizard's eyes. She watched them slowly trickle down his cheeks and disappear under the whiskers of his beard. Slowly he reached up with his right hand to where her hand still rested on his shoulder. Taking her hand in his he held it in a firm but gentle grip.

     Then she began to feel a slight trembling of his body through his shoulders. Yet there was still no change in his expression. Then a thought struck her from out of no where. The Sorcerer, Kuhlamann, had just created his own worst nightmare.

     Releasing his grip on her hand Gander reached into one of the commodious pockets of his cloak and brought out one of his small vials of medicinal powders. Taking Gabrielle's half full cup from her hand he poured a pinch of the powder into the remaining wine and handed it back to her.

     "Bottoms up young lady," he said with far more cheerfulness than he felt. "What you need right now is a good night's sleep."

     First giving him one of her gentle smiles, which had come to mean so much to him, she drank the rest of the wine.

     Taking the cup from her hand and placing it on the ground Gander stood up and put the vial back in his pocket.

     "Go on and stretch out now," he said.

     Once she had done so Gander took a blanket and draped it over her. Then, after giving her a gentle pat on her shoulder, he picked up his cup and the wine skin and silently left the tent.

     Xena was still sitting where he had left her. Her position hadn't changed in the least and she was still staring into the glowing coals in the fire ring. Once again Gander sat down beside her and seeing her cup was empty he refilled it and his own as well. Again he held her cup in front of her until she took it.

     "I've just given her something to help her sleep," Gander said in not much more than a whisper.

     Xena, still gazing into the embers, nodded her head.

     Gander too turned his own attention to the g lowing coals.

     "Xena? ... Do you remember the first night the three of us met?"

     For the first time that evening Xena turned and looked at the Wizard. There had been something about his voice just then which told her she ought to pay attention to what he was about to say.

     "Yes,' she said, 'I remember."

     "Remember how Gabrielle asked such pointed questions about my being able to see into the future?"

     "Yes," she said again.

     "And I told the both of you how seeing into the future was, at best, an imprecise art?"

     "Yes. Why do you ask?"

     "Because," he said, speaking even more quietly, "on the night I made the armor for Gabrielle her helmet was the last thing I produced."

     He turned to face Xena who, by now, had riveted her full attention on him. When he did so she noticed, for the first time, the tear streaks on his face. Their eyes met as he continued speaking.

     "When I finished her helmet, ... Xena, ... it had no mask. ... The steel mask of the

Queen of the Amazons ... it was only an after-thought!"

     As the implications of what Gander had just said sank in Xena's eyes became wide. Then moving a little closer to him Xena wrapped her arm around behind his back and he did similarly. Gander was still trembling slightly and Xena felt this. They each returned their attention to the tiny tongues of flame within the fire ring and leaned against one- another like two old comrades, lending each other mutual support, while they silently contemplated the nature of fate.