Their estimation of the time required to reach Maadrik's stronghold had turned out to be somewhat optimistic. Limited as they were, to the pace of the slowest of their people, another day and a half passed before the stony ground began to angle upward and yield again to the tall grass of the plains. Though all were now dead tired they pushed on until they'd crossed over the first of what seemed an endless number of ridge lines and reached the narrow valley below; shortly before sunset of the fifth day. Here there was a clear running stream and patches of woodlands in which they could take shelter and rest. Here, also, they came across one of Maadrik's small, three man, patrols.

     Maadrik's men told them one more day would see them safe in the stronghold and after some quick consultations Akress suggested their guides precede them. Their elderly and those few who were still recovering from wounds were now on their last legs.

     They would need help if they were to reach Maadrik's stockade as quickly as possible. Maadrik's men agreed and after getting something to eat they headed off to announce the arrival of the people of Al Fahd and bring back some help.

     By mid-morning, the next day, fifty young men and women, all well armed and lead by Maadrik himself, arrived at their encampment. After a hearty welcome all around Maadrik and his people were given food and a chance to rest a bit. Then, shortly after noon they began the last leg of their long trek. Those who Maadrik had brought with him relieved those who had been most heavily burdened and the pace of their progress toward Maadrik's stronghold increased considerably.

     Even this close to joining forces with Maadrik's people Gander felt it would be best if he continued to keep an eye on things from the air. Given the Sorcerer's steadily increasing activity Gander and Xena had both concluded the only thing they could safely expect was the unexpected. Kuhlamann's power was increasing slowly but surely and there was no way of knowing when he would once again expand the territory under his control; sending his warrior vassals farther afield.

     Shortly after sunset of the sixth day the people of Al Fahd finally gained the relative safety of Maadrik's stronghold where they received a tumultuous welcome. Additional, temporary, shelters had already been set up and a goodly amount of hot food had been prepared.

     At first Akress and his people were somewhat surprised to be received this way. But Maadrik told them his people realized the villagers of Al Fahd, by keeping the Sorcerer's men-at-arms occupied for so long, had made it possible for them to establish their own defenses and prepare themselves for battle.

     "The people of Al Fahd," he told Akress, "have bled and died to give us the time we needed and this," he said solemnly, "will never be forgotten."

     As the refugees from the forest were helped to settle in Akress, his village elders, Xena, Gabrielle and Gander met with Maadrik and his leadership to discuss Kuhlamann's latest moves and how these would effect their plan of attack. The most troublesome problem the Sorcerer had created for them was his random patrols which now extended up to several leagues, in all directions, from the fortress.

     Uniformed as they were, all in black, it was extremely difficult to see them at night. In fact the only thing which still gave them away was the rattle and clank of their arms and armor as they made their rounds.

     "Then we had better hope," Xena said, getting straight to the point, "that Kuhlamann doesn't come to realize the value of silence and stealth within the next two days. If we were caught out in the open, before we could slip enough of our people into the fortress, we would be in a lot of trouble."

     This was an understatement and they all knew it. If their approach to the entrance to the underground passage was detected Kuhlamann would marshall his forces in no time and his counter attack would, in all likelihood, be the end of them all.

     Throughout that night and the following morning Akress and his people were allowed to rest. Then, in the afternoon, the process of integrating the two forces was begun. As a rule this could take quite some time to accomplish. Unfortunately, as had been the case all along, they were on borrowed time. In fact all were now aware they would have to launch their attack within the next two days.

     Learning to cooperate, maneuver and fight, in units nearly twice as large as what they had been accustomed to, was no easy exercise. But Xena and Maadrik had concluded that even a little training along these lines would be far preferable to none at all.

     In the mean-time Gander had been given the location of the observation post closest to the ancient, hollow, tree trunk and the entrance to the underground passage it concealed. Here he would spend the night watching for enemy activity and attempting to discern any pattern in the routes and timing of their patrols.

     As a precaution against startling the young men assigned to this post a runner was sent ahead to alert them to the impending arrival of the Wizard and the rather unique method by which he would get their. Just before sunset Gander silently glided in and landed in some tall grass close to the large, camouflaged, hole which had been dug at the edge of a copse, atop a small hill. Despite their having been forewarned all three of their jaws dropped as the large, seemingly wild, goose waddled out of the grass toward them and plopped down onto the bottom of their hole.

     If anything their expressions became even more incredulous as Gander transformed back into human form. Seeing the surprise on their faces Gander knew he'd been wise to give these youngsters a 'heads-up' prior to his arrival. Had he not done so he was pretty sure they would have been out of that hole and gone like greased lightening; leaving him to spend the night there alone.

     Introductions were quickly accomplished in whispers. Then the youth in charge of the post began to brief Gander on what they had seen of the enemy's activity to date.

     "So far," the young man said, "Kuhlamann's patrols have come no closer to the entrance than fifty to a hundred cubits, on the far side, and we can still hear them coming before we see them."

     "Have you noted any regularity in their patrols?" Gander asked.

     "Yes." the young man said with a nod. "They do seem to have established a rough pattern in their patrols. During the day they send them out with five or six men in each but at night the number of men in each patrol appears to be doubled. Evidently they aren't as sure of themselves during the hours of darkness as they are during the day."

     "How often do their patrols pass the tunnel entrance?" Gander asked.

     The youngster considered the question for a few moments. "During the day a patrol passes once every two hours or so. But," he said, "at night they pass through the area almost hourly."

     Using his hands to gently part the foliage, which helped to conceal their position, Gander let his gaze wander over the valley with its many patches of cultivated earth; the crops nearly ripe for harvesting. Off in the far distance he could see the fortress and here and there the charred, tumbled down, remains of what had once been small but pleasant cottages; dwellings anyone might have been happy to call home.

     The sun was a red circle, half concealed behind the distant mountains, when they heard the tell-tale rattle and clank which heralded the approach of a number of Kuhlamann's troops. A minute or so later they came into view. Evidently this was the first of his night patrols as there were twelve of them in all.

     "Do you see what I mean about the noise they make?" the young post commander asked in a whisper.

     "I should say so," Gander replied with a quiet chuckle. "Ye gods! They really do make more noise than a bloody Tinker's push cart rolling off a cliff."

     With night-fall visibility was greatly decreased until the only things which could be readily seen were the pin-pricks of light which were the torches atop the fortress walls. Where they had, with day light, been able to make out the small, dark, speck which was the ancient tree trunk, with its entrance to the tunnel, it had seemingly disappeared in the stygian blackness of the moonless night.

     While he might have used the 'Dubious Gift' to locate it, or the patrols they heard passing by at regular intervals during the night, Gander knew better than to do so. Being this close to the fortress, and with Kuhlamann now aware of the presence of a Wizard in the area, the slightest extension of his power would be much the same as lighting a bonfire and hammering on a great bell.

     Yet he knew some means had to be found to enable their entire force to move directly and smoothly from their line of departure to the tunnel's concealed entrance. The need for an immediate solution to this problem was re-enforced when, an hour or so before sunrise, a heavy fog rolled in over the valley. If there were fog like that, come the following night, their fighters could become scattered from there to Tartarus and back and the attack would fall apart.

     As the first hint of dawn lit the sky Gander, having settled on a course of action, asked one of the youngsters to go back to the stronghold and bring back as much strong, dark colored, string as could be found. He also made sure the boy understood that it had to be carefully wound onto a stick so it could be easily paid out. Once the lad was on his way Gander and the other two young men relaxed and continued to watch for further enemy activity.

     It was mid-morning and the sun was well up before the boy returned with a huge amount of neatly wound string and Xena, Gabrielle, and Maadrik were with him.

     "What's up?" asked Xena, without preamble.

     Carefully spreading the foliage to their front Gander extended his arm and pointed at the far distant tree trunk.

     "According to these youngsters," Gander explained, "that dark brown speck I'm pointing at is the point we are going to have to get to tonight. As you can see it isn't all that visible, even now, in broad daylight and last night it couldn't be seen at all.

     "On top of that the bad guys double the number of their patrols, and the number of men making up those patrols, at sunset. During the day each patrol numbers five or six men and pass, about fifty cubits to the far side of that trunk, every couple of hours or so. Last night their patrols numbered twelve men and while they didn't seem to come any closer toward us they could be heard passing by on an hourly basis.

     "If that wasn't enough there is the chance of fog. If we have fog again, tonight, like we had in the small hours this morning, we could pass right by that trunk and never know it. What's more, if our people lose contact with each other they could end up scattered all over the place. So I think you can see this is not the sort of situation we can permit to continue to exist.

     "All right," said Xena. "Now I know the reason for all the string. Maadrik?"

     "Yes Xena?" the large man said quietly while moving closer.

     "Exactly where do we jump off from tonight?" she asked.

     Maadrik pointed off to the right and down the low hill they were on, at what appeared to be a dry stream bed, several cubits deep. "That gully, there," he said, "begins in the hills not to far from the stronghold. Between its depth, and the knee high grass on either side, it should give our force good cover all the way to this point."

     "OK,' Xena said, "let's get down their."

     As she and the others moved off, staying low, Gander transformed and took flight. Moments later he landed at about the point the others were heading for and was standing there, grinning at them, when they arrived.

     "How do you do that?" Gabrielle asked as they came up to him. Had they been any place else he might have laughed out loud.

     "I'll tell what Gabrielle. If you're still really interested after all this ugly business is over I could arrange for you to have a few flying lessons; though I should warn you feathers do take some getting used to. They tend to tickle a lot at first. How would you like that ... my little dove?"

     The only one present who was not having a hard time keeping from laughing was Gabrielle. Even Xena had to bite her lip as she let her mind wander, for a second, to picture Gabrielle as a nice, plump, dove trying to take its very first flight.

     "Ahem," Gabrielle cleared her throat. "If you don't mind," she said with a sickly smile, "maybe I ought to think that over for a while."

     "So," Xena said, getting back to the business at hand, "the idea is to get the string all the way out to the tree trunk and tie it off without getting caught or doing anything to lead the bad guys straight back here."

     "That sums it up nicely," said Gander.

     "Well," Gabrielle said, "I think I'm the one to go."

     "And just how do you figure that?" Xena asked, her tone of voice and the look in her eyes showing how little she cared for the idea.

     "It's only natural," Gabrielle said. "I mean look at me then look at the rest of you. I'm smaller, thinner, lighter, and probably, faster than any one here; ... uh, ... except .. maybe .. for .. you Xena, ..." she trailed off lamely.

     "Good," said Xena. "Then it's decided. I go. Give me the end of the string and get ready to pay it out."

     "In one respect you're right Xena," Gander said in a low tone of voice. "It has been decided. But you too will be helping to pay out the string."

     "What?" she said, incredulously.

     "None of you are going out there until we launch our attack tonight. That grass is only knee high. If any of you went out there, right now, you'd stand out like a twenty cubit statue of Aphrodite in the middle of a barn yard.

     "Further, even you, Gabrielle, would leave a trail of flattened grass all the way from here to the tunnel entrance and if any of the string were to catch on the top of the grass, and were seen; ... well just picture three or four hundred of Kuhlamann's butchers following that string straight .. back .. here.

     "On the other hand what could be more natural, even pastoral, than a goose, out for his late morning constitutional; looking for an early lunch in the tall grass?... However you may be quite certain," he said in an aside, "that lunch, ... fit for a goose, ... will be the furthest thing from my mind. I actually tried it once; ... bugs, worms, and such. Never again! Nasty tasting things really. Yech!"

     Though the place where they were was far from safe, and their business was quite serious, on hearing the Wizard's last remark, Xena and the rest of them all but spit their teeth out.

     "So what is it you need us to do?" Xena asked as soon as she was able to speak without laughing.

     "Nothing too complicated," Gander replied. "Just tie a neat little slip-knot in the end of that string with a reasonably good sized loop in it. Then, when I'm ready, hold it where I can take it in my beak. After that all you need to do is pay the string out smoothly."

     Within a few moments Gander was transformed, once again, and had alighted on the top of the embankment. Having tied the slip-knot in the end of the string Gabrielle held it out for Gander to take it. As he did so Gabrielle reached out and gently caressed the goose's head and the downy smooth feathers of his long neck and, as she did so, he leaned into the caress. As she removed her hand he gave her a quick wink of his small, dark, round, eye, gave the others a quick, affirmative, nod of his head, turned about, straddled thestring, and waddled off into the grass.

     The thin line paid out at what seemed a maddeningly slow rate and it soon became ovious it was going to take Gander some time to cover the distance between where they were hiding and the ancient tree trunk.

     Maybe half of the line had been taken out when it stopped quite suddenly. Then they all heard the clatter and clank of arms and armor. A patrol was passing by.

     Very cautiously Xena raised herself up to see what she could see and what she saw stunned her. Gander was just standing there, maybe two thirds of the way to the trunk, very much in plain sight of the approaching warriors. What really got her was that when he wasn't boldly watching the enemy as they passed by he was rotating his head on his long neck and preening himself no less.

     Gabrielle had climbed up beside Xena and had just enough time to see this performance for herself before Xena placed a hand on the top of her head and gently but firmly pushed her back down; following her a moment later. Maadrik's expression showed he was more than a little concerned.

     "Well? What did you see? Is he all right?"

     Her eyes reflected both humor and wonder as she slowly shook her head in disbelief.

     "Oh he's fine," she said with a sly grin, "Just fine."

     Shortly after the patrol had passed out of the area the line began to pay out again and continued doing so for several more minutes. The first they new the job had been done was when Gander came gliding in for a landing in the gully.

     Back in human form he told them he'd managed to get the loop in the string around a thick, broken off, stump of one of the thorny bushes and had pulled it tight.

     "That line isn't going anywhere," he said. "All we have to do, tonight, is follow it and it will lead us straight to the outer edge of the briars. Which reminds me. I've got to get back to the stronghold and come up with some tools to help us cut our way through that mess both quickly and quietly. In case you don't know it those bushes have thorns this long," he said with a crooked grin while indicating a rather exaggerated distance between his thumb and forefinger.

     A little after noon, back in the stockade, Gander was conferring with a blacksmith about what was wanted by way of a couple of sets of very large, long handled, pruning shears when Gabrielle came up and stood beside him.

     "How long will it take you to forge and assemble those shears?" Gander asked.

     "They're simple enough to make," the smithy replied. "You needn't worry Wizard. I'll have them ready by this evening."

     "That will be fine," Gander said. Then he turned to face Gabrielle.

     "And what can I do for you this sunny afternoon?" he asked cheerfully.

     "Could we take a short walk?" she asked. "There's something which has been bothering me ever since the battle in the forest; something I think you may know something about and I'd like your opinion on it."

     The concern he saw in her eyes was very real and quite deep and he was pretty sure he knew what was on her mind.

     "All right Gabrielle," he said, "let's go and find ourselves a quiet, shady, place shall we?"

     Walking out the gate of the stronghold, in silence, they turned and headed for an old, gnarled, tree only a short distance from the stockade wall. Stooping slightly to pass under the ancient tree's limbs, they made their way to its wide trunk and settled themselves on the ground with their backs to it.

     "So what's on your mind Gabby?" Gander asked as he turned and arranged himself, slightly, to face her.

     At first Gabrielle seemed to have some trouble arranging her thoughts and starting. It was very evident to Gander that whatever the problem was it was difficult, even painful, for her to discuss.

     Finally she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.

     "It's about Xena," she said bluntly.

     Gander, saying nothing, merely nodded his head, slowly, in understanding.

     "The day of the fight," Gabrielle continued, "just before she led her archers down the track to meet Kuhlamann's troops, Xena changed right before my eyes. She became so ... cold, ... ruthless, ... even cruel; ... the change in her scared me half to death; more than the thought of the fighting.

     "When I said I was going with her ... she turned on me, grabbed me, and all but shook me." Looking down at her upper arm she massaged the area which still showed slight traces of bruising where Xena had held her with such painful force.

     "And that isn't the only time I've seen this kind of a change come over her. I've seen her do things, Gander, which make me sick to this day. I've seen her use the bodies of her own dead soldiers to fill spaces on rampart walls, send wounded men back to fight, even withhold food and water from those who were too badly wounded to fight to provide more for those who still could.

     "I've seen her take and throw a battle axe and kill an enemy warrior who was running away ; the axe sank in the middle of the man's back, right between the shoulder blades. I've even seen her slit a man's throat, from ear to ear, and Gander, ... she actually seemed to ... enjoy ... doing it.

     "I guess what my question comes down to is whether or not you think she's going to change like that again tonight and ..."

     "And how you should deal with it if she does?" Gander finished for her.

     "Yes. Something like that," she said.

     "Actually Gabby," he said, "that's quite a question; if one really thinks about it. I could try to discuss this from a philosophical point of view but I doubt that would be of much help to you. But on the subject of war, as such, I will say this much: Take all the grief, pain, blood, and horror from the nethermost pit of Tartarus and drop it in the middle of one or more countries and that is war.

     "It really is the greatest and grossest form of mass insanity which exists on the face of this earth. That war exists at all is really the saddest possible commentary on all of us as living beings.

     "But, Gabrielle, war does exist and that is every bit as much a fact of life as birth or death. Whether one approves of it, or loathes it, is of no practical consequence whatever.

     " Now I may be telling you something you already know but the whole idea, in this most imperfect world is, if war comes, to survive. Just survive. That's it in a nut shell and, for better or worse, that is how most people feel about the subject."

     "Survive. Yes," Gabrielle said bitterly. "But at what price?"

     "That, Gabrielle, is a question every single one of us must answer individually ... and very much alone. For some almost any price is too high. These are, as often as not, the ones who die first.

     "At the other extreme there are those who feel no price is too high. It's funny but many of those in this group also end up dead; and those who do survive very often are so miserable they wish they hadn't.

     "The majority of survivors, however, make up a very large middle group. These are the ones who give up what they must but retain everything they can; so far as their decency and humanity is concerned. If you want to know where I think Xena stands in this ranking my best guess would be on the high end of the middle group and that's really not a bad place to be."

     "What do you mean?" Gabrielle asked.

     "I mean there are certain things Xena is not willing to sacrifice in order to preserve her own life. These include those for whom she may feel responsible such as troops under her command. Her methods may be harsh but she will die with them long before she abandons them.

     "She has also shown her readiness to lay down her life for others whom she cares for. She would sacrifice herself for you, for instance. That much I'm sure of. And she does have a basic code of personal honor which she will not violate even at the cost of her life.

     "As to whether I think she will revert to her former self tonight and become the real 'Warrior Princes' of old: You may hate me for saying this but, Gabrielle, I certainly hope so. In fact I'm counting on it as a further means of salvation for a great many of us; yourself and Xena included."

     Gabrielle started to speak but Gander raised his hand and cut her off.

     "You asked for my opinion so hear me out. A little while ago you said Xena's reversions to her old warrior ways scared you half to death. Those were your very words. Well if I know anything, anything at all, about Xena, these fairly rare reversions to her old ways frighten her a .. whole .. lot .. more.

     "Think about it Gabrielle! Xena has struggled long and hard, for a great many years now, to change her life. For the most part she has come a very long way from the extremely dangerous, murderously angry, hate filled, young woman she once was. But she's also aware of how quickly, even easily, she could become that person again. However she really doesn't want that to happen. For years she has struggled to resist these inclinations, day by day.

     "Why? I'll tell you. In one word. ... You! You, dear heart, have become, perhaps, the single most important person in her life. You may not think so, sometimes, but it's true.

     "She knows, only to well, how strongly you feel about certain subjects and she really does give your feelings a great deal of weight in governing her reactions in any number of situations. The thought, .. just the thought, .. of losing your friendship is as bitter as death itself to her.

     "But Gabby, this situation, with Kuhlamann, is dreadfully unique. This very sick young man, and the power he is steadily learning to wield, is deadly in ways no one here understands.

     "Gabrielle, on those occasions Xena returned to her old ways, there was every reason to believe you were both in mortal danger. Tonight the two of you will be dealing with the deadliest threat either of you have ever had to face.

     "I believe you are smart enough, and compassionate enough, to avoid forcing Xena to chose between your friendship and your survival. But I also believe she loves you enough to endure the loss of your friendship, and even your hatred, so long as doing so would keep you alive. That, I think, is the price she's willing to pay for your survival.

     "As to how you should deal with these changes when they come over her? That's easy to answer. Just do as you have always done. Love her, Gabrielle. Just .. love .. her."

     That evening, as the sun was beginning to set, Xena and Maadrik assembled their forces in formation within the stockade and, with Gander, they made a final inspection of their fighters. All were dressed in the darkest clothing they had. Their faces had been painted with a combination of grease and powdered charcoal. Anything they carried, if it could clank, rattle, or squeak, had been either padded or dabbed with grease. Even their shoes or boots, if they had hard soles, had been padded with rags.

     They stood there, quietly, in their ranks as Xena and their leaders passed up and down each file. For his part Gander lagged slightly behind the rest of the inspecting party. As he came up to each one he would stop and shake a hand, or place his hand on a shoulder or, with the youngest of them, he might lift a chin or playfully muss an already unruly head of hair.

     He did this with every last one of them. And in each and every case he worked, just a little, magic; steadying nerves, calming fears to a certain extent and, as much as possible, creating a mind-set intended to give at least some resistance to the Sorcerer's power.           After they had passed down the last file of young men and women Gander came up to Gabrielle who was now wearing a long, dark cloak with a large hood to cover her brightly polished armor and her blond hair. Laying his hands on her shoulders, with cheerful smile, he asked her how she was feeling; while doing the same for her as he had for all the others. As he did so she gave him a confident grin.

     "I'm fine, Gander," she said.

     Once with the rest of the gathered leadership he went through the same routine with them and while he wasn't sure how much good it would do for her he grasped Xena below the elbow of her right arm and she did the same with his in the way warriors are want to do. For the few moments they held each other thus Gander sensed the 'Warrior Princes' was already beginning to assert complete control.

     Except for the now piercing quality of her gaze her face was, for the moment, expressionless. While she was quite alert and highly focused Xena was totally calm and Gander knew, for many of Kuhlamann's men, this was going to be the worst and, most certainly, the last night of their miserable lives. Xena was going to see to it: Personally.

     "There are," Gander told them, "a few things I want to make you aware of before we move out. Once Kuhlamann has been eliminated one of two things will probably happen to the warrior vassals he now holds in thrall.

     "At the very least they will cease to fight in an effective, organized, fashion. If that is the only thing to happen you will, I regret to say, have to kill them to the last man. Giving quarter to any of them will simply not be possible. They will have, at least partially, made a conscious decision to join and fight for the Sorcerer's cause.

     There is, however, a second possibility. Something I greatly hope will come to pass. It may be that, at the moment of the Sorcerer's death, his warriors will lose consciousness and collapse.

     If this happens they should be spared for it will show their minds have been under Kuhlamann's total control and their service to him has been quite involuntary. Indeed, in this case, none of those who survive and regain their senses are likely to remember anything they may have done between the time Kuhlamann took cpntrol of their minds and the moment they collapse. In other words they will be, personally, guiltless.

     Once he was certain he had been fully understood Gander walked off a short distance, transformed, and took flight. The point in the gully, from which they would launch the attack, was close enough for him to get there before darkness.

     The necessity of his having to go the rest of the way, from the gully to the tunnel entrance, on foot, was going to be dangerous enough for one and all. There was no need for him to slow all of them down during their march from the stronghold to the line of departure. He also wanted to make sure the guide line could be located easily and that there had been no change in enemy activity since the morning.

     Cruising several hundred cubits above the thinly wooded, rolling, hills Gander first noted a build-up of clouds hanging low over the mountains. There could be fog later on.      

     The second thing he noticed, high in the forested foothills, was a darker smudge rising up into the clouds. Smoke!

     Landing atop the small hill, close by the dry stream bed from which they would launch their attack, Gander made his way to the observation post. All of the young men on duty there had their backs to him and were gazing intently out toward the foot hills. Due to the quiet manner of his arrival none of them noticed Gander until he dropped into the bottom of their hole.

     At the sound of his plopping down behind them they whirled about; drawing their swords, before realizing the source of the disturbance.

     "Wizard!" the young post commander said, "You just took ten years off our lives."      As he completed his transformation Gander was chuckling.

     "Then let this be a lesson to you," Gander said. "While it is well and good to keep a close watch, in that direction, someone should always be watching your back. If Kuhlamann's people ever became suspicious of this little hill of yours they might well approach from the rear. Had I been the bad guys I don't think we'd be having this little talk right now. Do you?"

     "Probably not, Wizard," the youth said, a sheepish grin on his face. "But there really is something to watch. Come. I'll show you."

     "Let me assure you my young friend," Gander said, "geese have exceptionally good eyesight. So if it's the smoke in the high hills you're referring to; I've already seen it."

     "What do you think it is?" the youth asked.

     This took Gander aback a bit. It was amazing how dense young people could be on occasion.

     "Just what do you suppose it might be lad? If you give the question a little careful thought the answer should come to you."

     Those who served on this post seldom got much sleep. As a result their thinking was a little befuddled from time to time.

     The youngster stared at Gander for a few moments before he realized what the Wizard was alluding to; then his eyes grew wide.

     "That's right youngster," Gander said. "That smoke is coming from the settlement. The Sorcerer's warriors made another raid, found no one at home, and are merrily going about the business of burning the place to the ground. But I'll bet they paid a dandy price for all the fun they're having now."

     As they watched, the column of smoke, though very far away, appeared to grow steadily wider at its base.

     "It's a good thing we've had as much rain as we have, over the last few weeks," Gander said, "or the whole forest might have burned. As it is that fire is going to do a lot of damage."

     Gander had seen enough and after learning there had been no change in the enemy's patrol routine he made the change and flew the short distance to the gully below.

     It was well after dark when their combined attack force arrived with Xena, Gabrielle, and Akress in the lead. As they approached the area they too had seen the dull, flickering, reddish glow reflecting from the bases of the low hanging clouds over the mountains. Xena had known just as quickly and surely as Gander what the huge fire in the foothills meant.

     "Now that he knows we aren't there," Xena said, "Kuhlamann will probably launch an all out search for us in the morning."

     "That's entirely possible," Gander replied, quietly, "although he's so inexperienced and full of himself he might come to think he'd frightened us into leaving. I wouldn't want to count on it, mind you, but such a conclusion on his part is possible as it would re- enforce his already tremendous ego.

     "Yes," Xena said. "And that's one bubble I'm going to enjoy bursting."

     Maadrik had come up and joined the rest of them. After a moment or two he made his presence known.

     "You know," he said, "while it's a shame to see your settlement burn this may actually help us tonight. I'm quite certain he would not have sent a small force to attack your position, there, in the forest. I'll bet this raid of his was a big one. In fact they might still be up there; beating the bushes for you. If so that is just that many of his warriors we won't have to deal with tonight."

     Xena turned slightly to look at the bulky, black, shadow which was Maadrik.

     "I hope you're right," she said. Then she turned back to Gander.

     "How long since the last patrol passed?" she asked.

     It's been a while," Gander replied. "The next one could come along any moment now."

     "All right," Xena said, addressing them all in a harsh whisper. You all know what's to be done and how we are going to do it. If there are no last minute problems, or questions, get back to your people and have them settle down for a bit. But when this next patrol has gone by we move out. Understood?"

     Her question was answered with silence.

     "Good," she said. "Get going ... and good hunting."

     With the others gone they settled down to wait. While no fog had developed there was still no moon. Even though they were close enough to reach out and touch each other they appeared to be no more than slightly darker forms against the blackness of the night.

     While Gander remained standing Xena and Gabrielle had assumed a squatting position. He could tell Xena was completely calm but Gabrielle was becoming progressively edgy. This waiting, for some, was always the worst part. With nothing to do, nothing to occupy the mind, one's thoughts often began to wander down dark hallways better left un-visited. In such moments seconds became the same as minutes and minutes dragged by like hours and nervous tension could easily degenerate into raw fear.

     Finally there came the first faint, and now familiar, sounds announcing the approach of the enemy patrol. Xena and Gabrielle came slowly to their feet and Xena signaled for the others to do the same.

     It seemed to take forever for the black clad warriors to pass but slowly the rattling noise of their movement faded away. It took a bit of doing but with a little help Gander was able to make it to the top of the embankment.

     Xena took up the thin line and began to move forward. Gabrielle was next in line with Gander at her side, his left hand resting on her right shoulder to lend just a little extra support. Akress followed her and the ten picked men, wearing the Sorcerer's black uniforms and armor came close behind him.

     Moving with care and in total silence the entire force formed a single file and advanced toward their unseen goal. Being lame Gander knew this would the most difficult part of all for him and, potentially, the most dangerous for every one else. His awkward movement through the knee high grass was, as expected, slowing their progress but there was really nothing for it.

     Periodically Gabrielle would reach up, with her left hand, and gently place it over his hand on her shoulder. It quickly dawned on him that this was her way of reassuring him! But, just as quickly, he realized that in doing so she was also reassuring herself.

     This brought a smile to his face. His heart went out to her. 'By all the gods,' he thought, 'this is one fine, courageous, young woman.'

     While it didn't take all that long to traverse the distance to the ancient, hollow, tree trunk it felt as though hours had passed since they had left the gully. But they finally reached the outer edge of the thick, thorny, bushes.

     Immediately three of those who were dressed in the Sorcerer's black garb came forward, with the large and powerful pruning shears, and went to work with a will, cutting a path through the thorn laden branches. Occasionally this caused more noise than any of them cared for but it was unavoidable.

     Up to this point Xena estimated they had spent between a quarter and a half an hour in getting from the gully to the tunnel entrance. From now on they would really have to hurry.

     Maadrik had made his way to the head of the column as the men with the pruning shears completed their work. Going to the trunk he reached down inside of it and began feeling about with his hand.

     Maybe another minute had passed when there came a slight squeaking sound as a large, circular, portion of the bottom of the trunk swung upward revealing the hidden entrance. Sitting on the edge of the stump he swung his legs over and nimbly lowered himself down through the opening.

     Xena, Gabrielle, and Gander were leaning over, looking down, into the inky blackness below when they heard Maadrik's harsh whisper.

     "The metal rungs are still solid! Wizard! Let's get you down here! Quick as you can!"

     Handing his staffs to Xena for a moment Gander managed to get his legs over the edge and, using his hands and arms, lowered himself down, feeling for the rungs with his foot. This was another part of the operation Gander didn't care for. It was time consuming and this put everyone in increased jeopardy.

     If he lived to be three hundred he still wouldn't be able to remember exactly how he managed to reach the bottom without using his power and without breaking his neck. But somehow he did it.

     Next came Xena who climbed down only part way, at first, then reached up to take Gander's staffs from Gabrielle and passed them down to him. Things began to happen very fast now and Gander felt he could breath easier. The last, worst, part was over. From here in he would no longer have to refrain from using the "Dubious Gift."

     After Xena came Gabrielle, followed by Akress and their men in black. Several of these were carrying torches and tinder boxes. Xena directed them to move fifty to a hundred cubits further on before lighting their torches.

     Once there was a little light to see by Xena took the lead once again and they all began moving down the passage as quickly as they could. While the walls and roof were damp and the air was musty the passage was in remarkably good condition. The floor was relatively flat and smooth and they were able to make good time.

     Maadrik had remained behind at the entrance. As their peasant soldiers came down the ladder, built into the wall, he directed each of them to either the left, or the right side of the passage; forming them into two long and continuously moving columns.

     It didn't take very long for the head of the column to reach what, at first glance, appeared to be a dead end. When the massive wall came into view, by the guttering torch light, they were still some thirty cubits from it and here Xena brought them to a halt.

     Signaling for the rest of them to remain where they were Xena crept forward and began examining the stone work in the walls to either side. She was still at it when Maadrik made his way back to the front of the columns. Seeing his approach Xena rejoined them.

     "Who ever designed this passage did a good job," Xena said. "I'm not unfamiliar with such things but something tells me I could be here for a long time before I'd finally find the key stone for the door."

     Maadrik had a sly grin on his face.

     "At one time," he said, "we were not the up-right, honest, and peaceable folk you've come to know. There have been times, in our past, when we tended to be down-right sneaky; and never more-so than when this tunnel was built."

     "I figured as much," Xena said, with a grin of her own. Then turning she passed the word for everyone to get ready. This was answered by the sibilant sounds of a great many swords being drawn from their scabbards.

     Maadrik was about to turn and lead the way forward when Gander spoke.

     "There are just a couple more things to be taken care of," he said.

     "What's that?" Xena said, fixing her gaze on him.

     "Xena," he said, "over the past few months I've had occasion to give you more than a little advice and, when I have, things have generally turned out well; have they not?"

     "Yes," she said, her gaze still steady and piercing.

     "I've just had one of those rather rare, but very strong, feelings of mine," he said, his expression serious as death, "and there is one thing I would have you do for me."

     "Name it," she said.

     Gander returned her steady gaze with his own for a moment.

     "Leave you own sword in its sheath. Tonight we will all be better off if Glimmer fights in your hand."

     As he said this the long, now brilliantly glowing, deadly blade rose clear of the Wizard's staff and presented itself to Xena, hilt first. Reaching out she took hold of the powerful weapon and as she did so the blade's bright aura flared, even more brightly, momentarily.

     "Unless she lays you aside," Gander intoned, "fight with her and for her and never leave her hand."

     Then turning to face Gabrielle, who had removed the long cloak she'd worn to conceal her bright armor, her helmet now in place, he looked deeply into her eyes for a moment.

     "Sting," he said, "come forth."

     The long, triple edged, dagger rose from his other staff.

     "Tonight," Gander said, "Sting will fight, independently, at your side. Then he turned his gaze upon the weapon itself. Guard her well and if she has any trouble at all ... eliminate the problem."

     Then he returned his gaze to Gabrielle for a moment longer.

     "Let the blood be on my head and hands," he said.

     With that he turned about and gave Xena and Maadrik a quick nod and they all moved toward the end of the passage.

     Knowing the tremendous speed at which the first of their raiders would be moving Gander pressed himself against the wall, to the right, next to Maadrik. Xena, Gabrielle, Akress, and a number of their men in the Sorcerer's black uniforms, positioned themselves to press against the huge stone door.

     There was a tiny sliver of stone in the floor, in the right hand corner. Placing the point of his sword atop this Maadrik pressed downward. There was a loud click and, with all the pressure being put on it, the enormously heavy door sprang open.

     There had been three of them, sitting on chairs, around a table, which had been placed within the huge doors arc of travel. The only warning the Sorcerer's men had was the loud click which had issued from the supposedly solid stone wall. When it swung inward the massive door had swept everything, table, chairs, and the men sitting on them, from its path.

     The two who'd been sitting closest to the entrance had been bold over and had been stabbed and hacked to death long before they could regain their feet. The third man, though knocked over backward, had managed to get to his feet.

     Running for his life he'd made it half way up the stone steps, the key to the two iron gates in hand, when Xena's Chakram found its mark. Spinning at an incredible speed the sharp, circular, weapon sliced through the man's leather armor and embedded itself deeply in his back.

     With his spine severed he tumbled and rolled back down the steps, coming to rest, face down, on the dungeon floor. Walking over to the prostrate form Xena reached down and yanked her Chakram free.

     Then she rolled the man over with her booted foot. He was still alive. With no outward trace of emotion Xena straddled the man, raised Glimmer with both hands and slashed downward, splitting the man open from the middle of his chest to his groin.

     Watching in horror Gabrielle turned away as Xena brought the brightly glowing blade down. She had known what both Xena and Gander had meant by, 'no quarter'. But this hadn't made watching the bloody execution any easier for her.

     Then bringing her head up she found herself looking, through the iron bars of a cell door, directly into the eyes of a woman. Her legs tucked under her, she was cringing on the floor, her back pressed against the far wall.

     Her clothes were tattered, torn, and incredibly filthy. Her face may have been quite pretty once but now it was the face of a crone; terribly wrinkled with the eyes sunk deep in their sockets. Here and there the woman's long hair showed traces of what had once been its original blond color. But the rest had turned a dingy white.

     As Gabrielle stared at her she heard the poor, human, wreck whimpering softly. Gabrielle couldn't be sure but it sounded as though this victim of the Sorcerer's torture was saying, "Kill me. Please ... kill me."

     Having finished the man on the floor the 'Warrior Princes' held the brightly glimmering blade up before her in profound admiration. 'That was easier than slicing fresh, warm, bread,' she thought to herself. At the same time she saw smoke rising from the smeared blood which covered the blade. In seconds the gory mess had been turned to a fine, grey, ash and dropped off.

     At the same time Maadrik had come up, ripped the key from the dead man's hand, and climbed the steps up to the first of the two iron gates. Returning her attention to the business in hand Xena looked quickly about and spotted Gabrielle standing and staring into one of the cells.

     Gabrielle was still staring at the poor wretch in the cell when she heard some one snapping their fingers. This served to break the trance-like state she'd been in. Her face now reflecting her fierce resolve she turned in the direction of the snapping sounds and saw Xena motioning for her to come along.

     As Gabrielle turned and came toward her the 'Warrior Princes' saw the expression on her face. 'Good,' she thought. 'Now that she's seen the bastard's handi-work, now that she knows the nature of the beast, she'll be able to cope with all that's about to happen'.

     Most of their strike force had remained formed in their two columns and were now waiting patiently for the signal to move. In no time Maadrik had both of the dungeon's iron gates unlocked and open and lead the way down the hallway toward the heavy, iron-bound, door to the great hall.

     Once there he handed the key to one of his black garbed men and signaled for all but those wearing the Sorcerer's uniform to step back a ways, out of sight. At first the man, to whom Maadrik had given the key, pushed on the door to see if it was, in fact, locked. It was.

     Inserting the key in the lock he slowly turned it. Once the bolt had been drawn back into the door the man took hold of the iron handle and gently pushed again. This time the door swung open a crack.

     The man peered out into the great hall for a moment then closed the door and stepped back. Walking back a few cubits, to where Maadrik and the others were standing, he shook his head.

     "The great hall,' he whispered harshly, 'is full of the Sorcerer's men. Most of them are sitting at long tables and appear to be eating but there must be hundreds of them and they are all armed to the teeth."

     "How can they be eating with hoods on?" Gabrielle asked.

     The young man looked at her for a moment before he spoke.

     "They all have their hoods rolled partially up," he said, again in a harsh whisper.

     Maadrik took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.

     "I guess we have reached the point where we find out if we've been living right," he said. Then he gave the young man an affirmative nod.

     The black clad youth came to a stiff attention then turned and moved back to the head of his men. Grasping the door's handle he boldly shoved it wide open and stepped smartly out into the hall. As he stood at ridged attention the other nine men of his squad stepped off and in perfect unison marched past him. When the last of his men was clear he made something of a show of firmly closing the door, inserting the key and rotating his hand and wrist as though he were re-locking it.

     Having gone through this act the young man pivoted on toe and heal and again stepped off smartly to follow the rest of his men. Although he kept his eyes focused straight ahead he could still see a large percentage of the Sorcerer's men-at-arms. Some of them had looked up from their food and watched them for a few moments and then returned their attention to their meals.

     As he followed his men out the great doors of the hall the young man's heart was still in his throat but their ruse seemed to be working.

     'Please all ye gods,' he thought. 'Just a little longer. That's all I ask'.

     As they marched by one guard after another one of the raiders would fall out and come to attention very close to his intended victim. All of them knew they wouldn't have long to wait.

     As arranged Maadrik had counted, slowly, to one hundred. Gander listened intently as the man finished the count.

     "Ninety eight ... Ninety nine ... One hundred."

     As the man finished pronouncing the last number Gander brought tremendous power to bear and released it suddenly against the door. There was a terrific boom as the door, ripped violently from its hinges, took flight and sailed all the way across the great hall. Even as it came crashing to rest, against the opposite wall, their entire force was in motion.

     The left hand column rushed straight ahead and, having reached the main entrance to the hall, every other man or woman in the line turned left and headed out toward the three heavy gates which bard the entrance to the fortress keep. At the time he'd blasted the door and sent it sailing out of the way Maadrik had been on Gander's right and Akress had been standing at his left.

     As soon as the way had been cleared Maadrik had grabbed Gander under his right arm and Akress had taken him under his left arm and between them they lifted him bodily off the floor.

     "Sorry about the indignity Wizard," Maadrik grunted, "but this will be done very quickly or not at all."

     Being held aloft, and carried at a dead run, in this manner was not a terribly pleasant experience. But seeing the sense in it Gander merely extended his power downward until he became as light as a feather.

     With Xena in the lead and Gabrielle close on Maadrik's and Akress' heals the right hand column came running into the hall, turned hard right, and made for the door to the tower.

     Kuhlamann, who'd been working at his table, on the top floor of the tower had noticed a sudden change. It was as though three of his vassals had somehow broken free of his control over their minds. But he knew such a thing was impossible. Yet it bothered him more and more as he tried to finish a paragraph in the notes he'd been making. He'd just set is quill to the side and was standing up when all Tartarus broke lose in the great hall below.

     Extending his power to use the senses of his men he immediately saw the source of the great commotion.

     There, rushing toward the door to the tower, was the warrior woman, the Wizard he'd seen in the first battle for the forest, and the so-called Amazon Queen.

     How they, and the hundreds of armed men and women in their train, had gained entry was beyond him. However that was not the important thing at the moment. Crushing their attack was his first priority and he began attempting to do so with a passion.

     Already there were wounded among the raiders; some of them rather badly. They were in pain and beginning to experience fear and these were the very ones Kuhlamann sought out first.

     Even as Maadrik and Akress set Gander down on his feet, and turned to join the fray, he felt the first waves of the Sorcerer's malignant power and heard the first high pitched howls of unbearable agony.

     Xena, Maadrik, Akress, Gabrielle, and some two dozen others had made it to the door to the tower. In the lead Xena had crashed against it but it was locked tight and had held. So all had formed a semi-circle around Gander and were fighting madly to give him whatever time he might need to deal with the situation.

     As it happened he didn't need much time at all. If anything this door was even heavier and more strongly built than the other had been. This, however, made very little difference.

     In only a few moments he had gathered and focused tremendous force and when he released it everyone in the hall felt the air as it came back and slapped them; hard. At the same moment the door fell from its hinges and lay, rocking back and forth, on the floor. The heavy iron bands which held the thick wooden beams together had been bent in the middle and now the whole thing looked like one large rocker. Another terrible blast of power swept the heavy obstruction out of the way like a dead, dry, leaf before a broom.

     As he walked forward several of those who'd been fighting behind him came rushing by and made a dash for the stairs. But he shouted for them to stay where they were. Already part way up the first flight of steps they came to a halt and looked down at him.

     "I know you are enthusiastic," Gander said, "but I guarantee you do not want to be the first to face our nasty minded, little, fiend. The three of you might last as long as a couple of seconds before you were turned into a puff of smoke and a very small pile of ash."

     As the three young men came trotting back down the steps Gander flashed them a grin.

     "That's right lads," he said. "Besides you can have plenty of fun down here keeping our little fiend's playmates occupied."

     Already it was apparent to Gander that it was only a matter of time before Xena, Maadrik, and the others would be pushed back into the tower and up the stone steps. Taking a deep breath he began to steel himself for what he knew was coming and started climbing the stairs.

     "Kuhlamann!" he bellowed. "Boy! I've got a few bones to pick with you and those bones are all yours!"

     As he continued climbing steadily upward a deep, throbbing, painfully loud voice came thundering down from the top of the tower.

     "Come on up Wizard. I'll wait for you. I have all the time in the world! Come and face your DOOM!"

     Why was it, Gander wondered, that almost every Sorcerer he'd ever known had this thing about the word, 'Doom'? Instantly Gander made the necessary changes to his own voice. When he spoke again his tone was unbelievably deep and so loud it caused the very walls to tremble.

     "Knock off the 'fell' voice routine ... BOY! All you're going to succeed in doing is to give me a headache and I'm unhappy enough with you as it is. Besides . . . I'M A WHOLE LOT BETTER AT IT THAN

YOU ARE EVER LIKELY TO BE!!"

     It took Gander a minute or so to make his way to the landing of the top floor but not another sound had been heard from the young Sorcerer. Standing before the door to Kuhlamann's quarters Gander gathered even more power than he'd used before. When he released it the door he was facing was turned into a great cloud of flying splinters. A normal human, standing behind it, would have been shredded instantly. Entering, he looked the young man straight in the eye.

     "Knock, knock," he said sarcastically.

     "Try to use your powers against me if you wish," the young Sorcerer said, in an equally sarcastic tone, "but please, spare me any further attempts at humor."

     "Boy!" Gander said, with considerable irritation creeping into his voice, "I haven't come here to tickle your funny bone. I'm here to turn you into a cinder."

     As he said this he extended his arm and pointed his finger directly in the Sorcerer's face. The bolt of energy was blinding. Kuhlamann's back had been to the outer wall, several cubits away and as Gander had brought his arm and hand up the Sorcerer had raised his defensive shield. But when he was hit he was still slammed back against the wall with enough force to crack several stones.

     "So that's the game you want to play," Kuhlamann growled as he straightened up; and the battle was on for real.

     Down below Xena, Gabrielle, and the others had their hands full themselves. The Sorcerer's warriors had been far more numerous than expected. Through attrition and by shear weight of numbers they were forcing Xena's small and dwindling band of fighters to give ground.

     Slowly but steadily they were being pushed back into the tower and up the stairs, one step at a time. No longer able to see any of the others from their force, Xena had no idea how the over-all fighting was going. But their own situation, within the tower, was starting to look anything but good.

     But, even though they were being forced back, a little at a time, they were leaving a considerable trail of enemy dead and wounded in their wake; most were dead though a number of them were still alive. These had been the ones who had run a foul of Gabrielle and her staff.

     Compound fractures of their arms and legs, a few broken backs, and a number of fractured sculls had been their lot. If any of them managed, somehow, to survive they were likely to be crippled for life.

     Only the day before Gabrielle might have felt rather badly about doing so much damage. But after seeing the human wreckage in the Sorcerer's dungeon ... she couldn't have cared less.

     While her contributions to the fight had proved useful, as soon as Xena had seen they were going to be forced into the more restricted confines of the tower, she had ordered Gabrielle to the rear. From that point on death, horrific and bloody, was going to be the name of the game.

     Xena had very quickly come to appreciate Glimmer's unique qualities. There had been a few occasions where a tremendous blow had been delivered against the side of Glimmer's blade which would have knocked her own sword from her hand. However, though the shock had caused her to actually let go of her grip, the Wizard's sword had remained in the palm of her hand; as though it were fixed there by a powerful glue.

     Even better by far, the magical sword recovered and countered even faster than she could have; actually leading her hand in a smooth and powerful stoke. When this happened, as often as not, the result was devastating to her opponent.

     Amputations, eviscerations, decapitations, it didn't matter much. One clean, powerful, stroke and the deed was done.

     Then too she loved it when an enemy's sword met Glimmer's blade, edge on edge: The way some, rather than turning to run, would hold the stump of the weapon up, staring in disbelief, while she coldly cut them down. That actually brought a terrible smile to her face.

     But even though the Wizard's weapon enabled her to survive unscathed those who were fighting with her were not faring as well. The more they killed the more enemy warriors seemed to appear and the fighting was at terribly close quarters. Inevitably, one by one, her men were either cut down or dragged down and then chopped to pieces.           Backing slowly up the tower stairs Xena, Gabrielle, and the others couldn't help hearing the awesome noises, or seeing the terrific flashes of multi-colored lights, as they reverberated and reflected down the stairwell. The memory of what the Wizard had once said of the inconceivable power, which might be brought to bear in a battle such as this, came vividly to Xena's mind. The fighting had been furious so far but reaching deep within herself she redoubled her efforts. That room at the top of the tower was the last place she wanted to be forced into.

     What was wrong with the picture before him? Gander knew something wasn't quite right. He'd been pounding the young Sorcerer with terrible force but Kuhlamann's protective power was not deteriorating as he'd hoped it would. On the other hand the young Sorcerer's answering blows hadn't been nearly as potent as he'd expected either.

     It seemed, to him, that Kuhlamann was merely conserving his energy and biding his time; as though he was waiting for something. Gander couldn't quite fathom what that something might be but he didn't like it; not one bit.

     Sending yet another bolt of intense energy slamming into the Sorcerer he watched as the young man rocked backward from the force of the strike. For someone who had such a handsome face Kuhlamann had a really ugly smile; one which Gander wanted badly to wipe away.

     There was no doubt in Gander's mind that he could destroy the arrogant youngster. But he also knew, now, it was going to require far greater force than he'd initially anticipated.

     Such force was available to him and had they been in the open, out of doors, he wouldn't have given a second thought to using it. But flammable materials, very close at hand, were already beginning to smolder. Were he to increase the force he was using, even slightly, the contents of the room could burst into flame. A little more and he would begin to do serious damage to the tower itself. This was something he wanted to avoid.

     For the time being the only acceptable course of action was to continue pounding the cocky youth. Attrition was, by no means, Gander's favorite method of dealing with situations such as this. It was inefficient, time consuming, and could be very costly. But it would have to do.

     Her common sense told Xena there had to be a limit to the number of warriors under the Sorcerer's sway. But at the moment it certainly didn't look that way. At the time they had reached the door to the tower there had been a little over two dozen fighters with her. Now there were only a dozen left; including Gabrielle, Akress, his son, and Maadrik.

     They had been forced more than half way up, toward the top floor of the tower, and they were still being forced to yield ground. The stairwell below was packed with the Sorcerer's men, a virtual wall of black uniformed and hooded warriors. It didn't seem to matter how many of them she killed. For every one she dispatched to Hades another would pop up to take his place.

     No matter how viciously she, or any of the others, fought they couldn't even hold ground much less regain what they had lost. The host before them continued moving inexorably upward.

     Gander was still loosing one bolt of intense energy after another against the young Sorcerer and receiving comparatively puny blows in response. While he appeared to be tiring Kuhlamann's protective power had yet to be breached.

     Gander was also beginning to become weary. At this rate disposing of the young fiend was going to be a long, drawn out, and singularly unpleasant process.

     He definitely had the 'Gift'. He may not have sorted out the process of using it at very long range but at close quarters he was a tough customer.

     Gander, preoccupied as he was, had still begun to have a bad feeling. Like the mere magician he'd once pretended to be Kuhlamann had a trick or two up his sleeve; Gander was sure of this. He was continuing to conserve his strength, waiting for something, biding his time. As the sounds of battle, the clashing of arms, grew progressively closer Gander's bad feeling grew stronger and he began to realize that, once again, time could be running out. What's he up to? Gander wondered although he wasn't at all sure he wanted to find out.

     Xena and her small band of fighters which, in the past few minutes had become smaller still, by two, were almost at the landing of the top floor. This, Xena concluded, was not good; not good at all.

     The shattered doorway was now directly behind them. The strange and terrible sounds and brilliant, pulsating, flashes of light had not slackened in the least.

     There was a strong, acrid, odor not unlike what she'd smelled from time to time during severe thunder storms immediately following multiple, close, lightening strikes. And there was fiery heat. Both the smell and the heat were emanating from the doorway. It was as though she, and those with her, were being shoved into a furnace.

     The sounds of fighting were terribly close now. Gander knew it was only a matter of moments before Xena, Gabrielle, and the others would be forced through the door. Had he been able to do so Gander would have kicked himself for the bloody fool he now knew himself to be.

     With the perfect vision of hind-sight he realized, too late, that he should have contrived a way to catch Kuhlamann outside of the fortress. Or, had that not been possible, he should have confronted him alone. Then he could have employed all the power necessary to destroy him. Such a course of action might have cost the young Lord Riphanay, his sister, and the girls from the village, their lives. But now a great many more lives were in imminent danger and not just from Kuhlamann.

     Gander knew there was no way he could permit this evil fiend to continue to exist. The potential threat he posed to the world at large was just too great. He had to die, even if it meant the destruction of many he'd come to care for including, all god's help him, Xena and Gabrielle.

     This Sorcerer, Kuhlamann, was far more powerful than he'd expected. He'd made

the classic mistake of under-estimating the enemy and unless the situation changed, very quickly, no small number of those he counted as friends were going to pay the ultimate price for his stupidity.

     Kuhlamann had quickly realized the Wizard was possessed of tremendous power but he also knew Wizards, as such, had weaknesses. The most important of these weaknesses, to Kuhlamann, was their reluctance to sacrifice the, so-called, innocent in order to achieve a necessary goal.

     This was the reason he'd limited his response to the punishment he'd been receiving. All he had to do was to fend off the powerful bursts of energy the Wizard was directing at him, conserve his own power, and wait.

     By doing so he knew the opportunity to render a devastating blow of his own would not be long in coming. As the first of the Wizard's companions were forced through the doorway the Sorcerer felt his optimistic view had been confirmed and his patients had been rewarded.

     As the first of the Wizard's friends backed through the door Kuhlamann struck him down, sending a needle thin bolt of ruby red energy through the young man's lower back, just to the side of his spine. The wound had not been immediately lethal but killing the youth out-right had not been his intention. As his victim fell to the floor Kuhlamann extended the power of the Codex and the young man began screaming and writhing in agony.

     At the same time the Sorcerer sensed a very slight, momentary, weakening of the Wizard's defensive power. Ah yes, he thought to himself. I thought so.

     Instantly Gander increased the power of the blows he was directing against the fiend and as he did so some of the near-by furnishings began to catch fire. Yet the Sorcerer remained standing and continued to strike out at everyone who came through the door.

     One by one those who had been fighting with Xena and Gabrielle were wounded and exposed to Kuhlamann's malignant power. And each time one of the young men or women were subjected to the Sorcerer's torture it shook Gander that much more. With the felling of each new victim Gander became ever more distracted and less able to maintain control over his own emotions.

     In turn this detracted from both his defensive and offensive power. This was precisely what Kuhlamann was after and knowing this Gander fought mightily to regain mental and emotional control over himself.

     Kuhlamann had just stricken and applied the torture to another of the villagers when he looked up and saw her; the so-called Amazon Queen. For such a powerful and capable warrior she was a tiny thing, he thought, as he prepared to wound her.

     With all the others he had applied his power so as to cause wounds which would, ultimately, be fatal. But this one, Gabrielle, Queen of the Amazons, was special. He wanted her to remain very much alive for a very long time. Gathering his power he carefully controlled and directed it at a point at the back of her right leg, just above the knee. When the ruby red bolt of energy struck it burned a hole half way through Gabrielle's leg.

     Gander had seen the Sorcerer's eyes grow wider as though he'd been surprised by something. With his back to the door, he'd been unable to see who or what had caused this sudden change in Kuhlamann's expression but he didn't have long to wait to find out. As the Sorcerer sent his bolt of energy on its way Gander heard a terrible shriek.

     Gabrielle! Her scream was like an arrow piercing Gander's heart and at that moment he lost his concentration.

     Now! Kuhlamann thought, sending an awesome blast of energy toward the Wizard.

     Gander's loss of concentration had lasted only a split second but it had been enough. His defensive power had weakened. Not greatly but enough. While most of the force of the Sorcerer's blow had been dissipated a tiny beam of it had made its way through and struck Gander below his right shoulder.

     The pain Gander experienced was horrendous. Slammed backward against the interior wall, his legs gave way. As he slid down the wall he appeared to lose consciousness and crumpled unto the floor.

     Gabrielle's scream had jolted Xena but the sudden cessation of the sounds of battle, between Gander and the Sorcerer, was of even greater concern to her. Leaping high into the air, she somersaulted backward, landing behind the last of her fighters, and entered the room.

     What she saw, at that moment, was daunting even for her. A number of her people, including Gabrielle, were sprawled out on the floor before her; screaming in agony. Then, looking to her left, she saw the Sorcerer standing over Gander who appeared to be unconscious if not dead. It was obvious Kuhlamann was gloating over his victory.

     "So, old man," Kuhlamann said, "You came here to make a cinder of me did you?"      

     He laughed. There was no humor in it; only unspeakable cruelty.

     "But now you are the one who is about to be reduced to ashes, you old fool!"

     So intense was his pleasure over his seeming defeat of the Wizard he hadn't taken the slightest notice of Xena's presence. He was backing away from the Wizard's prostrate body, gathering his power, preparing to incinerate him, when Xena spoke.

     "Kuhlamann."

     Her voice had been quiet, soft, almost pleasant. Spinning about he saw her for the first time.

     "You!" he hissed.

     She was merely standing there; only a few cubits away. Her legs slightly spread, the point of her sword resting on the stone floor, both her hands folded over the pommel. She appeared to be perfectly at ease.

     Her expression gave no hint of her being effected by the scene of carnage which now surrounded her. Rather her stunningly blue eyes were fixed on him and there was a sarcastic grin on her face. It was as though she had no concern at all about what he was going to do to her. Raising his arm he prepared to cut her down. But as he did so he saw no change what ever in her expression.

     The Sorcerer had been about to destroy her and Xena knew it. But for some reason he had withheld the fatal blast. Now he stood there, looking at her.

     "Kuhlamann," she said quietly, "I know you are quite able to kill me. I have no defense against the power you possess. But before I die there are a few things I am curious about."

     Her acknowledgment of his power over her was quite rewarding for the Sorcerer. Looking down at the Wizard for a moment, and seeing he was still unconscious, Kuhlamann decided to have a little fun with this warrior woman before disposing of her.

     Xena watched as the Sorcerer lowered his arm. His dark eyes glittered as a cruel smile creased his face.

     "Very well," he said. "I seem to have a little time to spare. What are you so curious about?"

     Xena, willing herself to remain exactly as she was, began to think there was a chance, albeit infinitesimally small, that her ploy might just work.

     "First of all," she said in a conversational tone, "that sword of yours."

     "What of it?" Kuhlamann asked, still smiling.

     "Is it true," she asked, "that you forged and crafted it with your own hands?"

     Kuhlamann found this question rather pleasing. Pertaining, as it did, to his skills it was also quite appealing to his ego.

     "Yes," he said, his smile becoming even broader.

     "Why?" Xena asked, putting as much charm as she could into her voice.

     Kuhlamann's smile disappeared.

     "What do you mean?" he snarled.

     "I mean," Xena said, quite innocently, "why did you go to all the trouble of creating weapon which you never actually use? In fact, if you felt you had to create a weapon, ... which you would never use, ... why did you choose to make a sword?"

     Kuhlamann stood there, glaring at her, his anger obviously mounting by the second.

     "I should think," she continued, speaking pleasantly, "you would be aware that to most men a sword is more than a weapon, even more than a symbol of rank. For most a sword is symbolic of their personal honor; something we both know you have none of."

     The Sorcerer's face was now a mask of fury.

     "Enough!" he shouted. "Now you die!"

     "Just one more little question," she said, her own smile even broader.

     Kuhlamann stared at her in silence.

     "Do you really know how to use that great sword of yours?" she asked sweetly, "Or is it only a substitute for something sadly lacking in your manhood?"

     The Sorcerer's eyes bulged, his jaw dropped, and Xena laughed in his face. But Kuhlamann recovered his composure quickly and his own cruel smile returned to his face.

     "Now I know what you're after," he said. "knowing your death is certain you want to die by my sword."

     "Only if you're good enough with it to defeat me," she said pleasantly. "Personally, I don't think you are.

     "Your magic is a sure thing and cowards, such as yourself, prefer sure things. You would have to have courage to forsake your magic and take me on in a fair fight ... and we

both know courage is something else you lack."

     There was bloody murder in Kuhlamann's eyes but he was still grinning.

     "Who are you?" he asked evenly. "What makes you think your blood is worthy of my blade?"

     "You know," she said sarcastically, "I was beginning to think you'd never ask. My name is Xena. Xena of Corrinth. Some refer to me as 'Warrior Princes' and not all that long ago," she said, now with steel in her voice, "I held more than a third of the world in the palm of my hand."

     The Sorcerer was impressed and it showed in his face.

     "And while I'm at it I see no harm in your knowing a few other things which, I suspect, you may find interesting. That dagger you see hovering over my fallen friend? ... Its name is 'Sting'. It is the weapon which plucked your unmentionable Master's eyeball from his head.

     "This sword," she said, "also has a name. 'Glimmer'. This is the very sword which removed your one-time Master's arm.

     "Both of these weapons are his." she said, nodding in Gander's direction. "And who is he?" she continued. "Your ex master knew him only too well. In fact I'd be surprised if your Master hadn't mentioned him to you.

     "His friends know him as 'Gander'. All others, your Master included, know him as 'Two Staffs."

     It was obvious Kuhlamann was more than impressed. His Master had indeed mentioned this Wizard, on numerous occasions. His hatred of the Wizard had been boundless but, at the same time, there had been tremendous respect for his power.

     Now his Master's nemesis was laying, helpless, at his feet. His victory was even more complete than he could have ever imagined. If he now defeated Xena of Corrinth, armed as she was with the Wizard's own sword, in single combat ...

     Watching the young Sorcerer's face carefully she could practically see his ego swelling to vast proportions. She had him! His powers, as a Sorcerer, were terrible. Using them he could destroy her in the blink of an eye and she knew it.

     But if he depended only on his sword and whatever skill he had in its use ... he was dead meat. When he was still little more than a child she had been engaged in war and conquest. Her experience in killing with the sword was far greater, in terms of years and blood, than his experience with Sorcery. If he engaged her with his sword alone ... she would kill him.

     Unknown to either the Sorcerer or Xena Gander was anything but unconscious. As Kuhlamann had begun to back off and gather his power to deliver the fatal blow Gander had also prepared to strike. This time he would hold nothing back. When he released his power the entire top half of the tower and everything in it, including himself, would simply cease to exist.

     His heart was heavy with grief for what he was going to have to do. He had come to love Xena and Gabrielle as he had loved no one else; even his Master. But the Sorcerer had to die. There was no alternative.

     Gander had been within a second of releasing his obliterating strike when he'd heard Xena call Kuhlamann by name. Holding his breath, and his power, he'd waited and watched with tremendous admiration and the beginning of renewed hope as the Warrior Princes began to play the boy like a lute. Ye Gods, he thought, she knew just the right strings to pluck.

     By now Maadrik, Akress, his son, and only two other young fighters remained standing and were now making their final stand at the threshold of the room where Kuhlamann and Xena were now facing off. At this point they were all certain their lives were to be measured in minutes if not seconds. Yet they continued their struggle, slashing, stabbing and killing with great abandon.

     The scene directly behind Xena had become one of horrific turmoil. Between the continuing clash of arms and the, now hideous, screams of the wounded, including Gabrielle, Pandemonium reigned supreme. Yet Xena continued to calmly stand before Kuhlamann, completely unaffected, as though nothing at all were happening.

     Kuhlamann had just about reached the limit of his capacity to maintain control. He was now orchestrating hundreds of individual engagements at one time. Additionally the growing turmoil within the room was even beginning to get on his nerves.

     Yet the Warrior Princes continued standing before him, seemingly unmoved, calmly waiting for him to decide whether to destroy her through sorcery or attempt to prove himself in single combat. His common sense said to use his power and terminate her, the Wizard, and the pitiful handful of their companions. But his ego, not for the first time, got in the way and he made the fateful decision.

     "HOLD!" he shouted, in his fell voice, which reverberated throughout the fortress. Instantly his black clad hordes stepped back and broke contact with Maadrik and his people at the doorway. At the same moment those on the floor who had been screaming in unspeakable agony either fell silent, or merely continued moaning, as Kuhlamann withdrew the malevolent, torturing, power of the Codex.

     "I wouldn't want it said I took unfair advantage of you," he said, as he took hold of the hilt of his sword.

     Xena was still holding Glimmer with its point down on the floor when the Sorcerer struck, directly from the scabbard, slashing at her at waste level, a brilliant, ruby red, corona emanating from the terrible, black, blade.

     With Glimmer's point still down she lifted it up and away from her blocking the vicious, slashing, blow in a shower of near blinding, multi-colored, sparks as the two blades met. Then, leaping high in the air, somersaulting directly over the Sorcerer's head, she slashed downward.

     As Xena had taken to the air Kuhlamann had been in the process of slashing back in the opposite direction. But he'd been able, just in time, to change the direction of travel of his blade, bringing it up and over his head, parrying Xena's tremendous blow from above, with yet another, dazzling, shower of sparks.

     Then, even as her blow landed, Kuhlamann pivoted, extending his weapon, again slashing horizontally at where he expected the Warrior Princes to be standing.

     Even as she landed Xena had launched herself backward in yet another somersault causing the tip of the Sorcerer's, razor sharp, sword to miss her abdomen by less than an inch.

     Even as Xena landed she saw Kuhlamann had become airborne himself and was tumbling toward her in such a way as to land, feet first, right on top of her. There was no time whatever for thought. Had she needed to think about what to do next she would have died then and there. Instead she launched her self once more, this time forward and slightly to the side of Kuhlamann's path of flight.

     Passing each other in mid air their swords met again with great violence and yet another pyrotechnic display. Even as she landed again Kuhlamann had contrived to place himself in front of her. Slashing low Xena attempted to amputate both of his feet but all Glimmer's blade met was thin air and Xena instantly rolled to the side and away as the Sorcerer's blade again passed within an inch of her back and shoulder.

     Where or how Kuhlamann had learned to fight in this manner Xena had no way of knowing. In less than a minute, though, one fact had become obvious. If that part of Xena, so beloved of Gabrielle, had been involved, in any way, in this fight, she would have been slaughtered in a matter of seconds.

     But the Warrior Princes reacted to this situation with sheer exhilaration. She'd been engaged in single combat many hundreds of times. This, however, was the first time she had ever crossed swords with anyone who was this close to being her equal. The challenge, deadly as it was, only served to spur her on to ever greater and more inventive forms of violence.

     As the battle continued with ever increasing speed, cunning, and nearly berserk mayhem Maadrik, Akress, and the others could only stand and silently watch in awe. Even Gabrielle, who'd seen Xena in action times without number, had never seen such a display of lightning fast, deadly, violence on her part. Then, even as she watched Kuhlamann and Xena in their unbelievable dance of death, she remembered, and finally understood, what Gander had said: That he was depending on Xena's reversion to her old warrior ways for their survival.

     On and on the battle went. Xena had completely lost track of time. She'd never been involved in a fight like this before. Every move she made, every blow she struck, was countered by the Sorcerer. This battle had become a stalemate. But now she was beginning to grow weary and if she didn't find a way to end it soon ...

     She'd lost her concentration. For less than a split second her attention had been drawn from the fight but this laps had been enough. Kuhlamann was once again in the air, his booted foot rising. She jerked her head back but the toe of his boot still caught her a glancing blow to the edge of her chin.

     She was flat on her back, stunned. Suddenly everything appeared to begin happening in slow motion. The Sorcerer was now over her, straddling her, his great black sword raised high.

     Glimmer, its blade flaring, still rested in the open palm of Xena's hand. The sudden violent force of Glimmer's movement was nearly enough to dislocate Xena's shoulder as it twisted to bring its keen cutting edge upright.

     Faster than the eye could possibly follow the Wizard's sword, still retaining its own grip on Xena's hand, lunged forward and upward. Entering the Sorcerer's body at his groin Glimmer continued its upward movement, penetrating ever deeper, until it sliced through his breast bone and exited.

     Even as Glimmer finished passing out of the Sorcerer's body Xena rolled to the side and back up onto her feet. Kuhlamann was still standing, his own black sword raised in front of him, an expression of utter disbelief on his face. Her eyes glittering in supreme triumph Xena brought the Wizard's sword around and down with every last bit of strength within her.

     The impact of Glimmer's blade, upon the crown of Kuhlamann's skull, brought forth a burst of flame and sparks as it sank itself downward to the Sorcerer's jaw. His knees buckling, the Sorcerer Kuhlamann, who'd fancied himself ruler of the world, who'd entertained thoughts of even doing battle with the very gods, crumpled to the floor, dead.

     Xena stood there, staring down, her stupefied gaze alternating between the mangled corpse of the Sorcerer and Glimmer's blade which was already burning off Kuhlamann's brains, blood, and gore; transforming the mess into fine, powdery, ash. She had thought herself dead yet she was still alive. Exactly how she neither new or cared. The only thing she was aware of was the hideous nightmare was over.

     Initially she wasn't even aware of the thunderous cheers which resounded throughout the fortress as the Sorcerer's minions collapsed, insensible. It was Gabrielle's shout which brought her back to reality.

     "Gander!"

     Looking up she saw the Wizard was once again on his feet and, leaning heavily on a single staff, was limping toward her.

     "I thought you were dead," she said, her throat now parched, her voice hoarse.

     Coming up beside her he gently reached down and took Glimmer from her hand. His staff had remained standing, even though he'd let go of it in order to retrieve the sword.

     "You've served us all very well my friend," he said softly.

     As he released his grip on the weapon's hilt it floated up from his hand, positioned itself over the staff, and slid silently back into its sheath.

     "Xena," he said, speaking quietly, "You will never know how close a thing it really was; because I have no intention of ever telling you. But we were all, myself included, very nearly dead."

     She looked into the old Wizard's eyes thinking to see some hint of humor there. Instead, what she saw, nearly turned her blood to ice.

     "While I'm vain enough to wish I could claim a substantial part of the credit," Gander said, seriously, "the fact is, by doing exactly what you did, you saved the lives of everyone here, ... including my own."

     Looking down Xena saw the charred hole in Gander's cloak and how his arm was hanging limp and useless at his side.

     "Your hurt," she said, concern in her voice. "Let me help you."

     "Yes." he said. "He managed to wing me. But there are an awful lot of people who are much worse off. So, if you want to help me then help me to help the others.

     "But even before that, please, get everyone out of this room. Also," he said while pointing with the end of his staff, at the outer wall, "get any of our people, standing below this side of the tower, clear. Do it now."

     "I'll take care of it Wizard," Maadrik said as he began stepping over the dead and unconscious bodies of the Sorcerer's one-time vassals.

     It took a little time to get their wounded out of the tower room and for Maadrik to return with word their people were no longer in the area below the tower. Then, with Xena and Maadrik standing just outside the room, and Gabrielle leaning against the door frame, Gander raised his good arm and hand in the direction of the outside wall.

     Suddenly a huge, steady, beam of energy sprang from the Wizard's hand. In a matter of seconds the stones in that portion of the wall began to become molten. Then, with a terrific blast, a section of the wall four cubits across and five cubits high exploded outward sending an enormous shower of half melted stone clear across the outer wall of the fortress.

     While this display of raw power shocked all who were watching they hadn't seen anything yet. Limping over to the large, heavy, table which was still piled high with scrolls, Gander rummaged through them until, one by one, he found the three scrolls which made up the Codex Of Ultimate Evil.

     As he located the obscene documents he tossed them, one at a time, on top of Kuhlamann's partially eviscerated corpse. Then he made a motion with his hand as though ordering them to stay exactly where they were.

     Positioning himself in such a way that the Sorcerer's body lay between himself and the gaping hole in the outer wall Gander once again raised his arm and hand sending a terrible jolt of energy into Kuhlamann's body.

     Faster than any arrow the corpse, sword still in hand, the scrolls of the Codex still on its chest, lifted off the floor and, in flames, sailed out through the hole in the wall, over, and some two hundred cubits beyond, the fortress's outer wall. But Gander was still not finished with the Sorcerer's remains.

     Stepping to the very brink of the enormous hole in the tower wall Gander raised his arm and hand one final time. The size and power of the blinding shaft of energy, issuing from his outstretched hand, all but terrified those who watched. Expanding with every cubit of distance, it took on a conical shape, setting fire to the grass and shrubs over a great sphere of ground surrounding the, already, burning corpse of the Sorcerer.

     Even then Gander didn't stop. If anything he increased the force he continued to project. Soon there was nothing left in the effected area to burn. Yet he continued to apply his power.

     The soil had been on the sandy side. In less than a minute the soil itself had become molten and began to bubble and boil like so much porridge in a pot. When Gander was finally finished the ground in the effected area continued to glow, nearly white hot, bubbling and boiling, for several hours longer.

     Having thus dispensed with the Sorcerer's gory remains Gander turned to the needs of the wounded; beginning with Gabrielle. As she and Xena had seen him do, on many other occasions, Gander drew Glimmer from his staff and positioned the sword's glowing tip over the small but deep hole which had been burned into her leg. As he held it there the horrible pain dissipated until, finally, it was no worse than a very bad sun burn.

     "There," he said, as he finished, "that should do the trick. You're likely to be stiff and sore for a while but you will heal nicely."

     Then he proceeded on to the next in a long and growing line of wounded men and women.

     Xena, Gabrielle, Maadrik, Akress, even Aldhoc, all stayed with Gander, helping him in any way they could, as he tended to the needs of all who'd been wounded. There had been a great many who needed his care and it was many hours before he was finished with the last of them.

     Slowly rising to his feet, with the help of Xena and Maadrik, he'd just slid Glimmer back into his staff when he finally succumbed to the agonizing pain from the wound just below his shoulder. Passing into oblivion, his legs buckled, and if Maadrik had not had a good grip on him he would have crashed to the floor.

     Hobbling over as quickly as she could Gabrielle knelt down beside Gander. He was out cold. His face had taken on a chalky pallor. His skin had become clammy and his breathing was now quite shallow.

     Removing Spike from the top of her staff she used the tiny dagger to cut open the Wizards cloak and robe, exposing the damaged area. What she saw was enough to sicken her.

     The hole which had been burned practically through Gander's shoulder was far larger than they had thought and the surrounding flesh was terribly charred. She simply couldn't conceive of how he'd been able to keep going, tending to the needs of all the others, when he was so badly wounded himself.

     Xena, now kneeling beside Gabrielle, was holding Glimmer's staff. Not saying a word Gabrielle reached out and took hold of it. Xena looked at her friend for a moment; then released her hold of the staff.

     While it didn't show outwardly Gabrielle felt a trembling in her arm and hand as she slowly, carefully, drew the long, narrow blade from its staff. Holding the weapon in both hands she rested her forehead against the hilt and began whispering.

     "I have no magic myself. I cannot command you as does your Master. Yet, in his hands you have helped a great many. If you are able to do so, on your own, help and heal your Master, Gander, now ... Please."

     The tip of the blade began glowing even brighter than they had seen before. Slowly, with great care, Gabrielle positioned the glowing tip of the blade over the ugly wound; just as she had seen Gander do so many times before.

     Very quickly the appearance of the flesh around the gaping hole, below Gander's shoulder, changed before their eyes. The charring and gruesome blisters began to disappear and the hole itself began to knit together. She was still holding the glowing tip of Glimmer's blade in position when Gander opened his eyes.

     "Who says you don't have magic of your own dear heart," Gander said, a weak smile on his face.

     "The fact is, Gabrielle, you've always had magic. A great deal of it. But like most people you simply didn't know it."

     Whispering two words, "Thank you," she gently slid the powerful blade back into its staff and handed it back to Xena. Taking the Wizard's hand in both of her's she was smiling even though there were tears running down her cheeks.

     "Whatever you say, Gander," she said, softly, with a catch in her voice. "Whatever you say."