Xena smiled at Gabrielle’s fear. The young woman couldn’t hide her feelings if her life depended on it. “Gabrielle,” she said again, in a gentler tone, “these men need to rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Gabrielle smiled, feeling vaguely embarrassed for allowing her thoughts to show so easily. Xena certainly teased her about it often enough—but traveling with such a woman as Xena wasn’t easy, and one of the drawbacks was that Xena always seemed to know what was going on.
Zetes and Danaus both jumped to their feet, thanking Xena in voices shaky with gratitude. They decided to sleep just past the small creek so as to allow Xena and Gabrielle their privacy, but they gladly accepted Xena’s invitation to meet again for breakfast before starting out.
As Gabrielle settled back down for the night, she wondered how she would ever get back to sleep with so much going through her mind. Anticlimactic, to say the least, just falling back to sleep after such an event. Xena probably already had; the warrior could fall into her light sleep in the middle of a war zone, said it was one of the benefits of her past—being able to sleep when necessary, tired or not. Apparently monumental events or not, too . . .
She rolled onto her back and stared up into the sky, watching the stars glitter brightly against the early morning darkness. What would her own part be in this thing? What would Alesandra tell them? The sun dying? Was it a literal vision, or just one that symbolized something else?
When the morning dawned, they would be going to meet a real oracle, a woman who had seen them in her vision of the fate of the world. Most true prophets only saw little things, like if a baby to be born would be a boy or a girl, or if the crops would be good on a given season—and only then with the help of runes or notched sticks that they used as tools, to channel wisdom.
But an oracle who received waking visions—that was a gift indeed. And a power that Gabrielle wouldn’t mind studying up on. Her own tiny visions were often cloudy, and usually came in dreams. Maybe this Alesandra could give her some tips, just some general information to help her along . . .
With that happy thought in mind, Gabrielle snuggled into her bedding and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
“So how did you find us? Did Alesandra tell you where we’d be?”
Xena addressed the question to Zetes, who walked alongside Argo while she rode. Gabrielle and Danaus had fallen behind, chatting happily away about something or other, as they had all through their light breakfast and the first leg of their journey. Perhaps Gabrielle had finally met her match in the talking department; Danaus was a nice boy, almost Gabrielle’s age, but there seemed to be nothing he didn’t have an opinion on. So far, he and Gabrielle had swapped stories on everything from horse riding to royal fashions.
It was just as well. Xena was curious about this prophet; she’d met many a charlatan in her day, greedy men and women who pretended to see the future in exchange for money. Zetes seemed like an honest man, and not one to be easily tricked—but wise men were fooled all of the time, or so it sometimes seemed.
Zetes nodded in response to her query. “At first, she wasn’t sure, although she thought that you were heading west, toward us. Half of the menfolk in our part of the woods set out looking, me and Danaus included. When we couldn’t find you, we went home and waited, hoping that she’d have another vision before it was too late—and yesterday, she said you were close, just to the east of our forest. Danaus and me, we left right away.”
He smiled up at Xena, his lined, weather-beaten face not so weary as it had been the night before. “I’m—We’re all so grateful that you’ve decided to come and talk with Alesandra. It’s rare to meet such a great warrior, who has the power to change the outcome of a prophecy.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Xena lightly, but she couldn’t stop the pang of guilt that coursed through her at Zetes’s kind words. Simple woodfolk like Zetes and his son—there had been a time when she had destroyed people like them without a second thought, taking what she wanted from their meager supplies and burning what she couldn’t use. Killing those that stood in her way. A time that she could spend the rest of her life trying to make up for, and probably never succeed . . .
But that won’t stop me from doing what I can, she thought firmly. It’s the least I can do. If this prophet were the real thing and Xena could somehow stop the vision from coming true, it would go a long way toward making up for some of her own power-hungry past.
“I’ve heard of you, you know,” said Zetes softly. “You have quite a reputation, even all the way out here; my wife has family in the east.”
Xena arched her eyebrows. “And yet you came looking for me anyway?”
Zetes nodded and met Xena’s gaze squarely. “Alesandra said that you aren’t the same woman you used to be. And that blood no longer sheathed your sword, unless there was no other way.”
Xena didn’t show her surprise visibly, but the case for Alesandra being a true prophet was building. For a man like Zetes to seek her out in spite of her reputation—either this Alesandra was a very convincing liar or she knew of what she spoke. And it was true; Xena was as different now from her old self as night from day—
“We’re almost there,” said Zetes, interrupting her thoughts. “Just past that next stand of trees.”
He motioned toward a thickly forested spot ahead, a small trail leading through the shade of the woods. Xena nodded and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, urging Argo to go a little faster.
Alesandra awaited, and Xena was becoming quite interested in meeting her. At the very least, it would be a most unusual lunch.
They came to Zetes and Danaus’s home as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, and both Xena and Gabrielle could see why they hadn’t called it a real village. There were only a few houses, built of sticks and thick river mud, and not even a proper road leading to the dwellings.
Xena could see a few more tiny homes farther along the trail, gentle smoke rising from a few small fires between them. A middle-aged woman hung her washing from a tree branch nearby, a well-fed mongrel dog napping by her feet.
All in all, a pleasant enough scene. Xena could hear a river close by, and there was a small vegetable patch planted in a strip that ran next to a few of the homes.
“Mother!”
Danaus ran to the woman hanging up her wash and embraced her. A smile of pure joy beamed from her when she saw that Zetes and Danaus had been successful. She hurried over to greet them.
Gabrielle looked around, smiling at the children who peeked out from behind the doors of the tiny wood shacks. The small boys and girls wore expressions of awe and amazement, as if they’d never seen strangers—and it occurred to Gabrielle that they were probably in awe of them in particular, the two women that the prophet had named. Gabrielle tried to look cool about it, but she could feel her heart beat faster at the realization—of course they were amazed; she was supposed to save the world! Well, and Xena, too . . .
Zetes’s wife nodded at them eagerly, nervously wiping her hands against her apron. “We’re so glad to have you! Shandra, she’s our best cook, she made a nice stew for lunch, and the men, they’ll be back from workin’ soon, too . . .”
She trailed off nervously, and glanced at her husband, who nodded at her.
“I guess you’d be wantin’ to meet Alesandra, then,” she said. “I’ll go fetch her.”
Xena dismounted, then walked Argo to a shady spot well away from the vegetable patch so he could graze. Zetes’s wife had hurried off down the trail to one of the small houses, and Gabrielle had crouched down amid a group of grubby but delighted children.
Zetes and Danaus nodded to Xena, saying that they would go hurry the men’s work so that they could eat soon. Xena stood by Argo, patting his neck gently, enjoying the cool shade and wondering at the way of life these people led. Simple bu
t hard, surely—why would a prophet of Alesandra’s power choose such a tiny place? If she was as incredible as Zetes and Danaus seemed to believe, why wouldn’t she be in some great city, the oracle for a king? True prophets could demand any price they wanted for their services—
“There you are!”
Xena looked up to see Zetes’s wife coming quickly down the trail, hurrying over to where Gabrielle stood with the group of children. Strange—why was she looking for Gabrielle? Xena walked over to join Gabrielle just as the older woman met up with them.
Zetes’s wife reached out and took the hand of one of the children somewhat nervously, as if she were afraid to touch the little girl. The child was perhaps twelve, a sweet-faced youth with butterscotch eyes and golden brown hair.
“Xena, Gabrielle,” said the woman slowly, still barely touching the child’s hand, “this is Alesandra.”
Chapter 3
Gabrielle’s mouth actually dropped open as she realized that the great Alesandra was probably the same age as her little sister. Xena kept a straight face, merely cocking one eyebrow, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit surprised; she thought she was ready for anything, but a pint-sized prophet?
Alesandra dropped a clumsy curtsy, bowing her head and then smiling up at the warrior princess. The smile was genuine, but Xena could see a kind of sadness in the child’s eyes, a look she recognized. It was the same expression she’d seen in herself, long before—a child old beyond her young years, a gaze that had seen too much.
“Thank you for coming,” said Alesandra, in a high, clear voice.
Gabrielle’s mouth was still open. “Wait a minute—you’re Alesandra? The oracle!”
Alesandra nodded, the smile fading, her gaze still fixed on Xena.
“I am. And we need to talk, right away. Please, come with me.”
With that, Alesandra turned and started up the trail, past Zetes’s wife and the other children, toward one of the small shacks. Xena noticed that the other youths shrank back slightly, as if afraid; even Zetes’s wife quickly stepped out of Alesandra’s way.
Xena shrugged at Gabrielle and the, n headed after the little girl.
Gabrielle caught up to her friend, eyes wide. “Is this a joke? I mean, she’s a child, she can’t be Alesandra!”
Xena shrugged again, still walking toward the tiny home where Alesandra must live. The little girl was just stepping through the small doorway.
“You think prophets are born old?”
“No, but—” Gabrielle struggled for the right words. “Well, I just thought she’d be a little more . . .”
“Old,” finished Xena, smiling. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit surprised myself. But I looked in her eyes, Gabrielle, and there’s something about her that is greater than her years. We’ll see what she has to say before we write this off as a joke.”
Together, they stepped into the hut where the oracle waited.
Gabrielle was disappointed. Where was the bubbling cauldron? Where were the books of spells, the cobwebs and shadows, the musty, ancient feel that an oracle’s lair was supposed to have?
Instead, there was a cramped but clean one-room house with a tiny window over the child’s bed. There was a faded patchwork quilt folded at the foot of the wooden cot, and Alesandra had seated herself next to it, her little legs barely touching the dirt floor.
“Um. There’s really not much room, but feel free to sit where you can.” Alesandra seemed somehow even younger now that she was inside her home, dwarfed by even the tiny surroundings. Other than a small, splintery chair and the bed, there was no other furniture—and no decorations, except for a raggedy cloth doll seated on the windowsill. It was obvious that Alesandra lived alone.
Gabrielle sat on the edge of the cot, careful not to show her disappointment at the simple room. “Where are your parents?”
Alesandra sighed. “I don’t know. They’re dead, I think—I grew up in Pottera, a fishing village up north. The people who raised me also had other children with no family—they were very kind to take us in. They told me that they’d found me asleep next to a piece of driftwood on the beach, with a note that just said my first name.”
Xena had seated herself in the rickety wooden chair. “If these people are in Pottera, then why are you here?”
Alesandra dropped her gaze sadly to the floor. “I could always . . . see things, things that haven’t happened yet, or that happened a long time ago; I thought that everybody could, I didn’t know. But when I was able to understand enough to talk about it, I told Helena—she was the lady who raised all of us—and she got very upset and told her husband, Thoras. Then they told me I had to leave. They said that I was . . . bad.”
Alesandra looked up, her eyes pleading. “But I’m not bad, I’m just different, that’s all. Anyway, I was only nine or so, and I traveled for a week, I guess, staying near the sea so I wouldn’t get lost—and I met a very nice man named Otus, who lived here, with the woodfolk. He had been traveling to buy supplies, and he brought me back to live with him.”
Alesandra’s eyes grew bright with tears as she went on. “He was old, though, and he died last winter. The other people here take care of me, but Otus was like my father. He told me that I wasn’t bad, that I was special, and he said that if he had a daughter, he’d want her to be just like me.”
Gabrielle felt her own heart ache a little at the story. She reached out and took Alesandra’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Alesandra smiled at her gratefully, blinking back her sadness.
“Anyway, that’s how I came here. The woodfolk liked Otus, and they let me stay after he was gone. And sometimes I see things that can help them, like where there’s a good place to hunt or when it’s going to rain. I don’t have any control over it, not really, it’s like—” Alesandra shook her head. “It’s hard to explain. I just know things sometimes. And I try to help, but every time I say something about what’s going to happen, the people here get a little more nervous, like I’m too different. I think maybe they’re scared of me.”
Xena nodded slowly, remembering how the other children had carefully backed away from Alesandra, even Zetes’s wife had seemed uncomfortable around her.
Alesandra sighed again, a heavy sound. “And ever since the day of the last full moon, it’s been worse. That’s when I saw it.”
“Your prophecy of darkness,” said Xena quietly.
Alesandra nodded. “It’s going to happen, Xena. I’d swear on it.”
Gabrielle shuddered at the strong conviction in the little girl’s voice. There was no doubting that she believed what she said, she sounded too sure to be making it up—and Gabrielle liked her, besides. Liked her, and could see that she was no liar. And if she wasn’t lying . . . ?
Xena chose her words carefully, not wanting to seem disbelieving. “Are you sure that you had a vision? Maybe it was a bad dream . . . ?”
Alesandra stood and walked to Xena, holding out her small hands. Xena took them in her own, staring into the child’s honeyed, searching eyes.
“I saw it as clearly as I see you now,” she said. “And as clear as I saw you then. You are a warrior, fighting for good, but you weren’t always. I saw a young girl crying when her brother was killed, and I saw that girl grow up learning to fight, to seek revenge for the wrongs done to her family. I saw her grow drunk on power, and then learn from her mistakes, turned away from her vicious self by a man stronger than any other man. And I saw her befriend a younger woman,” Alesandra nodded toward Gabrielle, still seated on the bed, “an innocent girl who wanted adventure and excitement. I saw these two women traveling with a pale horse, and I saw that of all the people in the world, only this warrior woman could stop the horror that I saw in my vision—with a little help.
“That woman is you, isn’t it? Now do you believe me?”
Xena stared back into Alesandra’s eyes, shaken by the perfect truth of her words. There we
re very few in the world who knew so much about her, very few indeed. And there was no way that Alesandra could know so much of it unless . . .
“I believe you,” said Xena quietly. “Now tell us the rest. And how we can stop it.”
Alesandra smiled as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Xena could see that the child had been afraid her tale wouldn’t be believed.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and leaned forward awkwardly to hug the surprised warrior.
Gabrielle realized that she was staring at the little girl hugging Xena, but she felt helpless to stop. Gods, this was amazing. Alesandra had just told Xena’s whole life practically, reciting it like a poem or something! Gabrielle’s disappointment with the child oracle had flown out the window; this kid was one powerful prophet, no question.
Alesandra sat back down next to Gabrielle, still smiling, but the smile quickly faded. “There are some things I didn’t see,” she said, “but I guess we can worry about that stuff later.”
Alesandra closed her eyes, as if to remember more clearly. “It happens at a castle near someplace called Avernus, I know that much. There is a . . . man there, a young man, and I saw that he has no evil in his heart. He has a book, and with this book, he does . . . something, something wrong, a mistake. This mistake brings blackness and cold, but a horrible fire, too. I saw that the sun dies, and I saw all kinds of people who are smiling suddenly start to cry and be angry and shout. They raise weapons against each other, even against their own children.”
Alesandra opened her eyes, and both Xena and Gabrielle could see the fear there. “The people I saw, their hearts all turned black, and I knew, in the vision, that they were everyone. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I knew it, just like I knew your whole history, all at once—those people represented everyone in the world.
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