The Pillars of the Temple

GABRIELLE DECIDED TO HEAD FOR THE FOUNTAIN AT ONCE and wait there for Xena. She struggled to contain her excitement as she plunged into the flow of the marketplace, wielding her staff as a sure sign of her intention to plow through in all good haste. People made way, with sidelong glances and grumpy mutterings. After what seemed an eternity, she arrived at the fountain's edge and took up a seat along its boundary wall. Swallows and pigeons hopped and fluttered around the edges of the fountain, looking for the casual cast-offs of passersby and weary people who paused to rest.

Gabrielle dug into her leather pouch and tore off a stale end of the bread loaf inside. With her hands busy tearing pieces of bread apart for the birds, her mind was free to wander, but this time no poetry sprang forth. Her head was filled with thoughts of herbs, candles, attar, and dreams. She remained engaged in the pondering of such things until a familiar hand fell on her shoulder.

"Hi, there."

"Xena! You first, or me?"

"I'll go first, if you can promise to concentrate on what I have to say." She lifted one dark eyebrow.

"Bard's honor!"

"Okay, the exchange will take place tomorrow at noon. The Arbiter General will be waiting to greet both parties an hour before then. Some kind of small ceremony will be performed, then the actual object will be given over to our care. The exchange, once completed, means we need to convey this whatever-it-is back to Delos and to the Temple there."

"Where is this going to take place?"

"Here...." Xena pulled a piece of parchment from a carved bone scroll tube, and opened it. "See this marking? He told me that it's just up the road from here, maybe an hour north, depending on how fast we walk. I gathered that it was some sort of tumbled down temple long abandoned by a defunct cult of Artemis."

"I see. So we may or may not stay in town tonight?"

Xena crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Either way, I'll leave it up to you. You're the softy."

Gabrielle snorted. "And I thought you might like a night in a warm, cushy bed after all those bad dreams."

"Fat chance. Do you really think I'll get another one tonight? Because if I do, it's not going to matter where I sleep, anyway."

"Good point. But if I have any say in the matter, you're going to be just fine."

"You better leave that potion crap alone!" Xena snapped. "You don't know what you're doing. What if you mixed it up wrong and got stuck there or something?"

"Xena, it's not a place to get 'stuck' in, it's a dream, okay? You have to wake up sometime, you know? Erytheia explained everything to me this time, mainly because I bothered to ask the right questions." Gabrielle squirmed as she slurred the truth somewhat, but she didn't feel like arguing the point. She almost mentioned the crone, then hesitated. Xena noticed at once.

"You're not telling me everything. What else happened?"

"I was going to tell you all of it when you were finished." She fell silent.

"Well?"

"Oh, you're finished, then?" Gabrielle cleared her throat. "Erytheia told me that the length of time you spend 'there' is nothing more than a function of the elixir's strength. Now that I know that, and basing the bottom line on how long I was there last night, I know exactly how much to use."

Xena remained in a fixed, skeptical stare. "So you say. But that's not all, is it?"

"No, it isn't. When I came out of the shop door and into the street, the sun caught me just right, so I stood there blinking it away, and when I could see again, there was an old Thracian woman staring at me. She was really cryptic about the whole thing, and she had that peculiar attar scent to her."

"What 'whole thing'? Did she overhear you talking to the apothecary about the dream stuff?"

"Uh... yeah. That's how she knew. She asked me if I had come seeking and if I was with you. After I answered her, she warned me about traveling in the dreamscape and gave me a few pointers, too."

"Like what?"

"Oh, never mind, it makes little sense."

"Try me."

"Okay, she told me 'Knowing does one no good in that place.' "

"And?" Xena prodded.

"She told me the fish doesn't think when she swims and the bird doesn't think when she flies."

"And the warrior doesn't think in a tight battle... I get it. If you take time to think, you've lost it, right?"

"I'm not sure you're on the right track there." Gabrielle frowned and tried again. "The fish feels the current on her back and the bird feels the current under her wings. I think 'feel' is the operative word here."

Xena's eyes took on a distant cast. "Yes, and the panther feels the ground under her feet as she hunts her prey." A split-second flash of a black beast in hot pursuit of its quarry filled her eyes, then she blinked her eyes hard, refocusing her thoughts. "Whoa! That was strange. Where did that come from?"

"I was just going to ask you that myself." Gabrielle scrutinized Xena's face. "So you do understand, then?"

"You have to find that still place inside... that place you go and become nothing in the heat of a good fight. I do get it." Xena groaned. "Good grief, I sound like Aidan or something! Slap me!"

Gabrielle smiled. "I think you do get it. But I'll still slap you if you think it's necessary." She reached for the scroll tube. "Can I see that?"

Xena handed it over after inserting the rolled parchment and capping it. After studying it for a few long seconds in admiration, Gabrielle looked up. "This thing is really queer, isn't it?"

"Yep, it's perfect. So... are we staying or are we going?"

"We're outta here!"

THE THREE-QUARTERS WANING MOON WASTED NO TIME RISING in the bright sunshine of the late afternoon sky. Both women had begun looking for a good place to leave the road behind and make their camp at a secure distance. Following a beaten or trod-upon footpath into the woods meant company or the likelihood of nocturnal visitors, so they kept their trained sights on untrampled swatches of grass and weeds. It was in this style of visual scanning that Xena noticed some rusty-brown droplets in an all-too-familiar arrangement. She stopped at once and motioned Gabrielle over.

As they stooped in the dust examining the telltale spots, both met each other's eyes and asked the same silent question. Xena sighed. "We really don't have time for any distractions, but I think that the possibility of saving someone's life qualifies as a distraction."

"Let's go. The sooner we figure it out, the sooner we get dinner together."

Xena paused for a split second to look at Gabrielle, then shook her head. Yes, the dinner comment was serious. She returned her gaze to the ground.

In a matter of minutes, the prone body of a lone, slender warrior came into view, partially obscured by some dried-out, woody shrubs. The closer they got, the more apparent it became that it was a woman. Two paces farther and the boots were clearly identifiable. Gabrielle inhaled sharply. "Hera have mercy, it's Timandra!" She rushed forward, closing the gap in a few short strides, Xena at her side.

They grimaced in distaste at the sight of her face. There were tiny knife slashes all around her cheeks and eyebrows, and in the clothing of her upper torso. Blood had leaked through her fine brushed-leather tunic in an odd criss-cross pattern of cuts that mimicked those on her face and throat. Worst of all, however, was the knife itself: it was plunged up to its hilt into Timandra's breast with her own hand frozen in its deathgrip around the iron handle. Her lips were peeled back as if in fright or terror and her right hand held a fistful of her own long red locks, ripped out by the roots. Her eyes were squeezed closed.

Xena closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at her partner. "We've got a burial to perform. I'll get the spades, you throw a cover over her." She rose, feeling the irritation that always accompanied a needless death.

Gabrielle nodded in assent and said a silent prayer in Timandra's behalf.

Potnia Theron, you know me not, but allow me to speak in behalf of one of your faithful servants. Her name was good, her belief true. She was called Timandra. Accept her back into your fold and return her blood and bones to the sanctuary of your ageless bosom. So speak I, Gabrielle of Poteidaia and Amazon Queen.

She stood, then saluted the fallen woman Amazon-style. A multi-purpose, coarsely woven coverlet was in Argo's left saddlebag, along with their bedrolls. It had served this same grim task many times before this.

Xena, the digging spades in hand, paced around the area in a deliberate pattern, pausing here and there to scuff the ground with her toe or dig her heel into the earth. Gabrielle knew what she was looking for. The first rule of survival on the road was never to attract undue attention. There would be no funeral pyre for the murdered Theronite, and no way to return her to her sisters-- neither woman knew where the Theronites lived and worshipped.

Gabrielle unfolded the coverlet and stretched it over the corpse. "Xena, how long do you think she's been dead?"

After dropping the tools in the spot best suited for a burial mound, Xena straightened up and came to kneel beside the dead woman's body. She examined Timandra's lips, her fingers, touched her hair, and peered inside her partially opened mouth. She pulled the coverlet back over the cold, white face.

"I'd say she's been dead since late last night. Most likely she was awakened from a deep sleep, judging from what I can see."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Ah." Xena looked at Gabrielle in tacit agreement.

"Maybe she was dreaming."

"What I wouldn't give to figure out what this dream-sender is up to!" Xena finally spat out.

"We can find out, you know." Gabrielle said. "And I'm...."

"At a tremendous risk to you" Xena interjected "and not necessarily one you should take!"

"Xena, I've explained this to you before: I won't stand by and allow that woman to invade your sleep, and now... after seeing what she caused here... I'm doubly determined to stop her."

"Then we're going to assume that she killed Timandra through her own nightmare?"

"I'd say that was a safe assumption, wouldn't you?" Gabrielle asked.

Xena did not answer. Instead, she got to her feet and headed for the spades. She picked one up and turned it over in her hands several times. Gabrielle watched as the briefest flush of anger surged across her brow and flooded her eyes and mouth. To any outside observer, the warrior would have appeared completely impassive, but Gabrielle had learned to read the most minute of signs in her companion's face and body language. That skill had saved lives as well as drawn them ever closer together as two human beings. She waited for Xena's reply.

"Timandra died by her own hand, we know this. That she was somehow duped into it during a nightmare is nothing more than a theory, but one I can accept without much convincing." Xena thrust the spade into the dirt and tossed a loose chunk of rocky soil to one side. "What this woman can do inside the dreamscape cannot be taken lightly."

"I have no illusions about that aspect of it." Gabrielle retorted. "I still have confidence in my plan. We went over this last night: I'm going into the dreamscape, you're staying put to act as bait. Now that you know what you're up against, we're both one step ahead of her. I found out her name; now I can find out her game."

"So you say." Xena drove the small crescent blade into the ever-widening hole. "I can't make myself comfortable with the thought of you confronting this Harpalyce on her home turf." The pile of dirt grew rapidly from a humble mound to a small embankment as Xena attacked the task of digging with grim vigor. She halted suddenly. "I really don't want you to do this. I want to take my chances with her myself."

Gabrielle stood, brushed the dirt from her legs, and joined Xena at the edge of the excavation. She grabbed her own spade and began digging angrily. She was not going to be dissuaded from what she knew instinctively was the right thing to do, no matter what Xena wanted. She just didn't want to have to conceal her intentions. At times like this, conflict was inevitable, she mused. At least it would help get the grave dug faster.

"No, Xena. I'm sorry, but my mind is made up. You can't demand that I sit by and do nothing. Not unless you can give me a better reason than that you want to take your chances with her. Or that you're uncomfortable about the whole issue." The perspiration was trickling down her nose now, so she stopped long enough to remove her heavy winter cloak and stow it safely out of the way.

Argo stamped one hoof in aggravation. Gabrielle glanced over at the mare. That poor animal always gets worst of it when we argue, she thought. The saddle and gear would stay on a while longer, since neither of them was in the mood to deal with it. She returned to the lip of the grave. She could tell Xena was seething, but unable to find the words she wanted.

Only an occasional grunt, or the striking of a blade against a rock intruded on the silence of their labor for the next hour. When the hole grew large enough, the duo worked seamlessly, gathering the body, arranging the fallen warrior with her weapons and belongings, then completing the job of backfilling. Not a word was spoken until the dirt was piled high and patted into the proper shape.

"It's gonna be a long night." Gabrielle remarked.

"Yeah." Xena bit off.

Over the small cookfire and hastily made meal, the two pairs of eyes avoided each other. When the scraping of the bowls and draining of the mugs was complete, Gabrielle decided she'd had enough. She coughed aloud, signaling a request for attention. Xena looked up at her, blue eyes open and warily waiting.

"Xena, I'm sorry if I came off a bit short with you when we were digging. How can I make you understand why this is my call?"

"I don't know... how can you?" she muttered in a smoldering tone.

"I don't know why you're having such a hard time with this. I had a decision to make, and after factoring in all the available information, including your opinion, I have still come to the conclusion that what I am doing is necessary. And on top of that, my gut is telling me that this is the way to go."

Xena's face tightened almost imperceptibly. "And MY gut is squirming in my belly, in my throat... hell, all over. Whose is right?"

"Mine is." Gabrielle said.

"How do you know?" Xena insisted, ire sharpening the edge of her tone.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've been in your position? Do you?" Gabrielle asked. "How many times have I stood back, scared to death that you were going to do something that would mean I'd never see you again? And I'd think, one more time, whether it would make any difference to me if you fell in combat as a natural consequence, or if you went to your death by making a conscious decision that ended up being the wrong one."

Xena shifted uncomfortably in the dim firelight, but remained silent.

"I'm not even counting the times when you actively chose to do things that would lead to your death, but were made okay by the Greater Good. We've gone over all of this many, many times. We both have argued from either side of the fence, too. Why do we keep coming back to it every so often?" Gabrielle got up and moved around the fire to sit next to Xena. She put her hand on the warrior's forearm and squeezed it with gentle insistence. "It all comes down to blind trust. Trust, when every alarm in your own head and heart is screaming 'No!' and it still isn't your decision to make. THAT is when it's time to have faith."

"I do have faith in you!" Xena blurted out. The touch of Gabrielle's hands always tore away at the ramparts of her anger, whether she gave it permission to or not. "It isn't that!" She broke loose from the bard's grasp and flung a rock out into the darkness.

"Then what is it, Xena?"

"I guess I'm out of practice!" Another rock went spinning into the night air. Xena returned her hands to her lap and folded her fingers together in a double fist. "I'm sorry," she added in a restrained tone. "I guess I need to be reminded of that now and then. This is one of those times." She allowed herself a controlled exhalation. "It's these nightmares." She met Gabrielle's steady gaze for the first time in several hours. "Tell me. Please."

Gabrielle met her partner's eyes and read them, not needing the words that described worry, pain, fatigue, and love. "Have faith in me, Xena. You have in the past, and you should now." She took Xena's clasped hands in her own smaller ones. "Have faith in me. We've been through too much together for you to doubt me. I can do this, and I need to do this. Trust me. Trust us." She leaned forward and kissed Xena lightly on the mouth.

Xena reached out at once, grabbing Gabrielle's shoulders and pulling her in close, her kiss in return flavored with a misplaced vehemence. Gabrielle's rib cage shook with the suddenness of her own quickening heartbeat, but she withdrew and put her finger to the warrior's lips.

"No, this is not the time. You're only tired and aggravated. We have maybe a few hours of sleep coming to us, and a big day ahead." A deep, careful breath steadied her pounding pulse.

"Since when does that have to stop me?" Xena asked, a curious mixture of the tease and of a challenge best left alone.

"Oh no you don't. I can see right through you!"

"What?" Xena's question was tinged with false indignation and lightly disguised amusement.

"You figure that a little 'diversion' will take my mind off of this whole dream thing, or at best, make it physically impossible to carry the plan out. No way, sister!"

Xena shrugged. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't offer."

Gabrielle noted that her companion's crestfallen attitude lasted only until she had settled into the pre-sleep routine of removing her armor and gear. By the time Xena crawled into the furs, she was exhausted and had forgotten anything else but sleep. Gabrielle smiled. Even if I can't pull this off, I can buy Xena a few hours of good rest. she thought.

One by one, she assembled the makings of her dream potion: the clove candle, the earthenware mug, the tansy, the small nub of crystallized ginger, and tea leaves. Assuming that the tansy was the main psychedelic ingredient, Gabrielle doubled the amount she used last time. Careful deliberation of the chemistry of things brought her to a standstill. Should she also double the other components of the concoction, or only proportionally increase their measure? More potion, or stronger potion?

"Damn!" she whispered under her breath. The answer had to be gotten, and soon. Time was racing along as usual, and she was wasting it. No doubt Harpalyce would make her move within the next few minutes; the moon was well past cresting and on its way below the black horizon.

A faint, chilled breeze stirred through the camp, rustling the dried leaves of a nearby bush. Gabrielle looked up from the boiling water, startled from her considered study. The leaves stirred again, and a night bird's thin Skreeee!!! feathered the edges of her mood with alarm: the bush stood adjacent to Timandra's freshly formed burial mound. Could the dreamcaster be here already?

A good guess was as close as she was going to get to proper chemistry now. She closed her eyes and conjured up a picture of the withered old Thracian slave woman outside the apothecary's shop. Knowing does one no good in that place. Gabrielle reached for the ginger without opening her eyes. Know nothing and expect nothing. The otherness of thy soul shall then be freed. A portion of the ginger cracked off and dropped into the mug, joining the tea leaves added by fingertip feel alone. Knowing things is not the way of that land. Gabrielle released a breath out loud, then looked for the boiling water. Not stopping to examine her mixture, she poured the water into the mug and stirred. With candle and blanket in position, she waited a minute or two for the potion to cool. Even with the snakes of uncertainty squirming in her abdomen, the more insistent determination of need and fear for Xena wrestled and won out with little effort.

One more deep breath, she said to herself, and I'll be ready. I can feel my way around. This time I know what my anchor will be. "Breathe..." she spoke to the silent trees.

She pressed her lips to the rim of the mug and swallowed. Tingling... then numbness. The world spun away from her with fresh violence and a concussion of immense nausea battered her emptying physical shell. The moon melted into argent rivulets of light and dripped into her eyes, burning them with strands of fiery brilliance. She gagged on the molten silver pouring from her mouth and nose, but did not struggle to breathe. She laid back and saw how her arms and legs throbbed with an achromatic glow, twisting and thinning into shining filaments, then ceasing to exist as recognizable body parts.

Gabrielle felt the clearing of the camp, the dim warmth of the fire and one sleeping body beneath a pile of furs... the large and small movements of life as it ran along the soil's surface, and then the coolness of the bare branches of the forest. A tremendous wind blew her onward. The surface of the earth itself defined her as it dipped and mounded, gave way, then thrust upward into sharp peaks and slid into deep, chasmed valleys. She felt a tilting sensation break her apart. The bleak vastness of celestial dignity cantillated its hymns in eternal serenity. I've never known such peace... this is what it feels like to be buried in drifting snow... drifting, peacefully drifting... no anchor....

Her anchor! Xena!

A source of potent otherness interlaced with her formless being, drawing her back from the singing void of the stars. Xena... can you hear me?

An answering energy flowered in her core, and colors splashed her dream's vision, dripping down over the blankness. The visceral confines of Mother Earth shut out the sound of the celestial vibrations and once more, Gabrielle felt the soil and the water, the warmth and the cold, the death and the life of her birthplace as if it were her own body. She relaxed, trusting her anchor, and allowed herself to drift in sparkling tendrils toward her goal.

The vibrating negativity of Harpalyce drew her like a magnet— her whole purpose here in the dreamscape was to find and stop the woman. Where else could someone like Harpalyce exist, except in a place of anger, resentment, mistrust and hostility? All this was made palpable to Gabrielle's dream-self, like a raw metallic taste in her mouth. Surely the woman must be nearby.

A dagger of searing red light cut through her awareness, severing her from her calm center. Pain exploded around her in bright fragments. She stifled her rising confusion and focused on reforming the dream-bond with Xena. A blankness resisted her, and she realized belatedly that Harpalyce would be behind this latest barrier.

I've come to keep you from harming Xena. Firmly, resolutely, she radiated her intention.

An indignant chortle rang through the emptiness. You again, you puling child! Stop me, then, why don't you?

I'll do exactly what I have to.

Gabrielle concentrated on her impressions of the bond as it existed in this strange world of the sleeping mind.... Smooth, warm water poured from one dark clay vessel into another; none spilled or wasted, yet the receiving vessel glistened with the condensation of icy cold mountain water— water that sang of the sweet birch, the crisp twig, the softest lichen. Rain fell from the lip of the sweating amphora, spreading its delicious contents and rejoicing in the filling of the dark earthen vessel below, which in turn poured its warm waters into an icy stream....

Harpalyce, you will not stop us. The circle is unbroken— cycles upon cycles of life will know us as Two for One— until time ends.

The red beam sprang into existence, slashing the space around Gabrielle in a concise geometric pattern, but failing to cut her off from her focal point. Frustration hammered the unformed dreamscape; stinging shards of pain slapped at her like hail, but nothing broke the inertia of her anchoring bond. A sharp shriek rang out and the red beam ceased its action.

You may hinder me for the time being, but I know ways to soften you until you vomit your life forces into the vortex! Come with me!

Gabrielle felt herself spun out and sucked into a thin pinhole, its blinding light erupting in crimson splashes in front of her. The last thing she saw was the placid face of her sleeping warrior as the dreamscape convulsed in every direction.

HE WHIMPERED IN FEAR AND PAIN, THE WILLOW THONGS that held fast his arms and legs cutting into his damp, naked flesh. He saw the High Priestess of Artemis approaching with her retinue of martially attired attendants arrayed in a straight line behind her. Around the perimeters of the open-air enclosure, stationed between the pillars, stood the men of the temple, including the one that had stolen him from the foothills of Mystros as he worked in his uncle's grainfields. Each man had the peculiar look of the eunuch: the crumbling façade of manhood, the once hard muscles of his physique smoothing into the soft erosion typical of the castrated.

The boy looked down at his own penis, so newly surrounded by a luxuriant growth of pubic hair, and his sense of vulnerability heightened to an unscaled peak. His shriveled member dangled with only the shiny, fawn-colored hair for protection. He cried in his recently deepened voice that cracked and broke in fresh anguish. He had no idea what lay in store for him. He writhed again in desperation, but the wooden image of the Upright Goddess to which he was bound kept her fetters constant with all the force of her divine immortality. His arms and legs began to bleed from the sawing actions of his thwarted escape attempts.

"Good, the wretch is still vital and struggles well. He will do perfectly." The priestess nodded approvingly at the eunuch that had captured him. She turned to her closest attendant and took a horse-hide lashing strap from the ceremonial vessel and unwound it. When she turned around to look at the boy, her face was impassive and emotionless, her blue eyes filled with ice. She began chanting in an odd dialect he had never heard before, but he made out the name of Artemis as it was repeated time and again. His eyes grew rounder and wider with fright as the chant increased in intensity and force. The priestess cocked her arm behind her body, then flung the biting tip of the lash toward him, striping his young chest with searing pain.

"Arrrrhhhhhh!" he screamed.

Again the cruel whip twirled and ripped at his flesh, but with each succeeding blow, it marked new territory, flicking ever closer to his quivering genitals. His wails turned into moans as agony became his only reality. The chant had somehow changed tempo and rhythm, becoming almost sensuous now, to his pain-numbed mind. With horror, he realized that his penis had become rigid and erect. The whip bit at his inner flank, closer than before. His abdomen spasmed in relief for his genitals, and in one brief moment, he saw it coming, and shrieked in humiliation and agony and—

—Gabrielle felt the whip lashes, the blinding pain of the willow thongs, the flaming hoarseness of her throat, the throbbing in her groin. She opened her eyes and saw her erection strain for the sky as the priestess caressed her bloodied thighs with the lashing strap one more time.

"Nooooooo!!!!!!!!" she shouted with her youthfully masculine voice, but it did not matter. The seed burst forth from her loins and sailed into the hot afternoon air, landing on the carefully prepared patch of soil in front of her feet. One last look at the High Priestess of Artemis intoning the fertility rites of the Goddess in Spartan-flavored High Greek shocked her out of her senses: The blue-eyed, raven-haired beauty smiled at her and spoke once, in a common, pastoral Greek dialect. "Recognize me, my love?"

Gabrielle screamed in her own voice as she stared at the face of her most trusted companion.

"Xena.....! Noooooo!!!!!"

WARM WATER COURSED OVER HER RAW BODY AND RAIN SPRINKLED itself on her face and neck like gentle kisses. Pain began giving way to confusion and dismay.

Hush, hush... can't you feel me?

The fright and loathing of the whip receded and her balance restored itself to a shaky status quo. A questioning sensation tickled the recesses of her consciousness and she felt blindly for solace. This was the focus of her being, the spark that brought her life out of the ash heap of her future in Poteidaia--- the faith, trust and loyalty shared, the bonds of friendship and the intimacy she knew of her life with Xena. She felt relaxation spread through her— the tingle of recognition energized her faith in her purpose.

But her respite was brief. A raging sun blistered through the soft rainfall, turning her comfort to immediate distress. Oh no, my little lambkin, you won't get away from me that easily! I have you exactly where I need you now. COME! Again, Gabrielle was wrenched from her place and siphoned through a narrow channel, then shocked by a burst of red light.

TMOLUS TOOK HIS TIME EDGING AROUND THE DARKENED COMPOUND, looking for his dearest Arhippe. He needed to show her how much he felt for her, how strongly he needed to share his love with her, to lay his eyes on her stunning beauty. Temple girl or not, love was the the conquering force acknowledged by all proper Greeks. As a son of the War God Ares, Tmolus felt his case merited even more than the normal amount of righteous consideration. He was back to plead his case again tonight, and nothing or no one could stop him.

He peered around the vine-covered corner of the cloister wall and saw that the clear moonlight revealed total stillness. Not even the goats were bleating in their sleep. He placed the butt of his palm on the hilt of his short sword and strode into the courtyard. He would retrace his steps from the night before. The quietness of the place seemed unnatural. Earlier in the day, an unusual stir had caused consternation behind the high walls, loud enough for the rest of the town to hear the wails and cries. But now... all was deathly still. Only the slight rattle of his buckles and jewelry clinked into the night air. To Arhippe he would prove himself.

As he dallied, envisioning his beloved's face, the seductive curves of her woman-girl figure, the small cries of her angry passion, the twinge of her nails in his back as she raked him in their coupling, he lost track of his surroundings. When his sandal struck the edge of a stone, he was yamked back to reality. The cloister had fallen away, as if by magic, to be replaced with a hog pen and a barn. The sun was shining brightly above him, at noontide. Impossible! Bewildered, he spun around, trying to orient himself to this new set of circumstances. The snorting of a bull halted him.

To his rear, the largest bull he'd ever laid eyes on was pawing the ground, its eyes rolling madly in its skull, the tawny animal's face streaked with a crooked bolt of white. He realized the danger of his situation and the uselessness of his sword. Speed would be his only hope. He backed away slowly, then turned and fled, the bull in livid pursuit. Within a minute's time, the sturdy, foam-flecked snout of the crazed bull found Tmolus's lower back, and his internal organs felt the blow of two thousand pounds of enraged bovine muscle. He flew skyward, and as his splendid young body rotated up, he came about, facing the ground at the apex of his flight. Below him was a bed of pointed spikes interlaced with sharp, tooth-like stones. His innards turned to bile-water as the ground rushed up to meet him, his vomit choking him as he felt the first of the foot-long iron spikes pierce his entrails.

Gabrielle felt the bile rise in her own throat as she felt the wretched man's fear and pain. What do you hope to prove to me, Harpalyce? Do you take me for a complete fool? Artemis is not always a kind Goddess, but she is fair and just. What did this man do to cause such a horrible death for himself?

Stupid girl, what do you know of Artemis? Your foul Goddess, Potnia Theron, sent this bull! Shall such acts of cruelty remain hidden? Shall her followers be glorified by an association with the real Goddess, when all they do is bless animals and crops? Why allow the Temple of Diana at Delos to be tainted? Call her Artemis if you will— as you can clearly see, she is evil incarnate!

Harplayce, listen to me. I am not a Theronite, and I do not know their customs, but this is surely not any representation of Artemis that is worshipped by them, or the Accord would not exist! Trophonius was the fairest man in Greece when this treaty was formed!

Anger and indignation swelled and filled the dreamscape, singeing away the last of the moistness the rain drops had left on Gabrielle's cheeks. Harpalyce loomed in a cloud of heat and smoke. Things in the dreamscape do not lie, wretched girl!

A tremendous growling thunderclap roared from every direction. Gabrielle felt Harpalyce's disorientation, and the eerie stranglehold on her loosened. She was amazed to find herself at last in her own body, peering through a torn curtain. Beyond, she saw a weeping woman on her knees, tearing at her hair and begging Artemis for retribution. "I have been ravaged, oh Goddess Mine, right here on your couch!" the beautiful girl cried. "I am no longer your chaste priestess and servant, and therefore my life is forfeit by my own hand. Never could I stain the presence of your divine maidenhood with my own sullied form. I only ask that my assailant, Tmolus, receives his due and recompense."

The picture behind the curtains shifted dizzily— and Artemis' attendant dangled from a velvet rope, the weight of her body deforming the angle of her neck into one of unrepentant death. Maggots and worms crawled from her empty eye sockets and slack mouth. Wails resounded throughout the temple. Gabrielle shuddered uncontrollably and felt tears washing her own eyes with Arhippe's sorrow and shame. Harpalyce's presence nearby was one of shifting discomfort.

What do you call that, Harpalyce? Was that a lie? Was the bull an act of cruelty? Or perhaps the bull came to Tmolus in the same way he came to Arhippe? You have no power over me here any longer... and perhaps I have some power that you don't even realize!

Indignation buffeted Gabrielle from all sides, but while the angry pulsations impacted her dream-self, they could not shake her loose from her surreal bond with Xena— her anchor had grown somehow stronger. Shrewd practicality flavored the energy flowing in her direction as Harpalyce recognized her new position.

If I cannot rid myself of you right now, you pathetic wretch, I will finish what I really came for in the first place. I did it before and I can do it again. You are merely a waste of my precious time. Xena must be disposed of— then the exchange will not take place. Not on this day, or ever!

With the suddenness Gabrielle had come to expect of the movements in her dream, Harpalyce was gone as though a light had been extinguished. But where had she gotten to now? Don't think, feel.....

GABRIELLE SENSED THE RAIN FALLING ON HER FACE AND THROAT AGAIN, THE WATER flooding her mouth with aqueous magic and flowing out through her fingertips. She was floating on her back in a lake of liquid diamond dust, absorbing its powerful caress. Gabrielle, I am with you, I am in you, I am everywhere you are.... High above her, in an iron-washed sky, the North Star blazed forth from the constellation of Solaris.

A surge of potency boiled in her veins and electrified her limbs. She looked down and saw her own body for the second time since entering the dreamscape. She made a fist. Harpalyce, here I come! Wherever the woman was, she was going to learn a few things! Xena... look for me. Can you see me?

I can feel you, Gabrielle. Should I be able to see you? Is that you? Are you shaking me? Do you want me awake now? Let me open my eyes....

The thin stench of amusement wafted past Gabrielle as she focused on Xena's voice, her dream legs walking through mists and puddles. What could the smell be? What do you mean, am I shaking you? NO! Close your eyes, Xena, feel for me with your otherness, your dream eyes! Gabrielle lifted her arms and watched as sinuous streamers of water left her fingertips, formed raindrops and fell all about Xena's prone body, in her hair, on her face, dripping from her chin.

I feel you Gabrielle! Yes, you are with me. I can drink you! What a dream! Wait—!

Xena, what is it? Xena?

There was a resounding silence. At once, each raindrop on Gabrielle's skin turned to acid, searing her flesh and hair. The massive waves of an inferno splashed over her, and she fled to the sanctuary of her rain clouds. Thunder rumbled ominously through the dream sky and lightning lit the dreamscape in blinding flashes from every direction. Xena! What's going on? Can you hear me?

Nausea strode through her guts and her head filled with the shrieks and wails of thousands of damned souls. Sharp thrusts of cruelty and vengeance shot into her chest, pounding at her ribcage and deafening her awareness. She felt like a rag doll in a windstorm.

Gabrielle! I need you! Where are you? Xena's voice was swallowed in the violent tangles of the nightmarish scene. Is that you....?

I'm here! I AM your dream, Xena! Be with me! Feel me! Yes, drink me... use me as you need to! A shocking gasp split the wall of noise and everything went numb with silence. Before Gabrielle could react, hot, acrid blood filled her mouth and trickled down her throat. She spit the viscous fluid out, staining her chin, but the taste remained. Her stomach knotted with a mysterious tension— she had no choice as she heaved up whatever was inside her and watched as it sizzled out of existence as quickly as it appeared.

The sweating amphora appeared in front of her, offering her water. A tiny fissure formed at the base of its handles, widening as water leaked through the crack. Gabrielle felt fear for the first time in the dream. I have to stop that crack from getting larger! But what can I do? The heavy smell of attar surrounded her and the crone's voice whispered in her ear, When thou desires to think, stop and feel. The anxiety slipped back a little, allowing the blood-curdling nausea to recede into the background. Gabrielle listened again. Nothing.

Xena? Where are you?

Gabrielle, hurry!

Gabrielle found herself under the amphora. She embraced it, tilting her head back and drinking every drop of water hemorrhaging from its clay walls. The blistering heat of the dreamscape began receding; as everything cooled, she opened her eyes again. Her hands held a decorated krater of tremendous size. Across the upper rim of the vessel were words inscribed in traditional Greek alphabetics: SEPARATED, YET FOREVER CONNECTED.

The krater grew heavier, forcing Gabrielle to place it at her feet. It rocked gently from side to side, then again with more force. In one clean snap, the vessel broke in two and the brackish water inside fisted forth in a solid column of swirling liquid. Deep, restive patterns writhed in the water— what was in there? She leaned forward for a closer look just as a massive paw ruptured the column. An enormous black panther emerged from the dripping darkness, its tail flicking restlessly as it surveyed its surroundings. The streamlined features of its feline face reflected an exotic beauty, but when Gabrielle looked into its blue eyes, she felt the blow of recognition at once. The big cat opened its mouth, displaying glistening fangs and a wide pink tongue as it dropped something at her feet. Gabrielle looked down. The broken and bloodied body of a large, glossy crow lay motionless before her. The dreamscape exploded into a million fragments.

"GABRIELLE, WAKE UP! LISTEN TO ME— COME BACK!" Xena shook her inert partner a little more roughly, until the limp form convulsed into a spasm of clawing and gasping. Gabrielle's tears and choking alarmed Xena further, but her overwhelming sense of relief dominated an inclination to scold. A trickle of blood had dried in the corner of Gabrielle's mouth; Xena wet her own finger and wiped the blood clean, then leaned over and kissed her cheek, all the while gathering the shaking body in a rocking embrace.

"Am I back? Is this real? Am I dreaming, Xena?"

"No, you're back, you're home now. I've got you safe and secure. See Argo over there? You've even got her frightened out of her wits."

Gabrielle dissolved into tears again. "I'm sorry... but I had to...."

"Sshhh... it's okay. It's all over. You won, we won. Harpalyce's done for. Just relax. We still have several hours to go before daylight. Can you sleep?" Xena helped Gabrielle sit up on her own.

"I'm okay, I think." She straightened her clothing and pulled the blanket around her shoulders, using its rough edge to dry her eyes. "A few hours, you say? Exactly how long was I dreaming?"

Xena looked up at the night sky and did a simple, rapid calculation. "Twenty minutes." She shifted into a more comfortable position without breaking their physical contact. "I woke up at the same time you screamed aloud. I could have sworn I was screaming, too, but when I stopped to listen, neither one of us could have been making any noise. Argo was disturbed, but the rest of the normal night sounds were all in place. Hell, I may have imagined it. Both of us are in a serious sleep deficit at this point."

Gabrielle groaned. "I felt like I was there for an entire lifetime! Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh. Can you sleep? Wanna try?"

"Yes, but only if I can press right up against you."

"It can be arranged." Xena answered with a weary smile in her voice. "C'mon."

It took only a few minutes for Xena to arrange the blankets and furs just right, then settle Gabrielle into the pile, propped on a padded neck roll. Gabrielle's exhaustion allowed a complex vulnerability to steal into her face, dragging Xena back in time to the beginnings of their relationship. It was almost unfathomable to believe that this was the same girl, now a woman and a warrior in her own way, who had traveled the miles, suffered the sins and borne the burdens of the life Xena had molded for herself— first from inspired fantasy, then fear, and then blossoming reality. It sometimes struck her as someone else's memory— to look at her other self as she rode away from Hercules so long ago, aspiring to leave her warlord days behind and become someone he could respect; someone he could look back upon and not shudder knowing he had shared his body with her.

Unsure whether Gabrielle was still awake or not, she bent over her and kissed her forehead. "This truth is written in stone: I am who I am and what I am today because of your presence in my life. It is a gift I have never deserved and can never repay, not even to the gods themselves, yet everyday I remind myself of how lucky I am to have been in the right place at the right time. I have all the faith in the world in you— because if I don't... I am not truly alive. Awake or dreaming, I am yours and you are mine. So be it."

Gabrielle tossed in her sleep and did not respond. Xena smoothed her blond bangs back from her eyebrows and whispered "I'm going to check on Argo, but I'll be right back. Keep my spot warm." She rose, feeling an odd tiredness about her bones, as if she'd endured one of her worst hand-to-hand physical battles, wiped out from exertion. Dreaming sure wasn't what it used to be. she ruminated. The mare settled under her familiar caress and in minutes, Xena was curled against Gabrielle's flaccid body, holding her with a determined tenderness, as if forcing whatever energy and strength she had left into the smaller woman. She felt her own abrupt fade into sleep.

THE LATE MORNING SUN NEARED ITS CRESTING POINT as the trio topped the last barren hillside before reaching the abandoned temple. The lean, wiry man halted and smiled at his attendants, then resumed the dignified pace he had maintained for the past half an hour. The building was just around the rocky outcropping to his left. His own moment of importance had come, and he meant to carry it off honorably. The name of Tisias Orodakis, Arbiter General of the Society of The Objective Trophonius, would be written down in the record book on the same line as the Keeping of the Artemesian Accord, joining other illustrious names in the Society's register book. His father would have been so proud... he, an actual distant descendant of Trophonius, the greatest reasoning mind in Greece at one time. He turned the bend in the road.

The exchange must go as the manual demanded, word for word and gesture for gesture, for only the strictest adherence to the original ceremony could be acceptable to the Goddess and to the spirit of the agreement. Tisias was well aware of attempts in the past (all recorded meticulously by previous Arbiter Generals) to meddle with the exchange rituals, or plots by one side or the other to break the Accord itself. He had done all of his homework and was not unduly concerned. The fact that Xena of Amphipolis was the Envoy from the Temple at Delos certainly introduced a wrinkle and a worry, but he felt confident that the exchange could and would take place as planned. What little he knew of Prioress Cruesa, Envoy of the Theronite Convocation House was generally positive, so his optimism attitude colored his demeanor this morning.

There. It stood, still grand in spite of its decrepit condition.

Four hundred years earlier, a religious dispute linked to a local demigod of the mountain clans provoked a surprise attack on the priestesses of this temple, and all save one were murdered before a rescue force from Lebedaia could reach the scene. The killing of Artemis' servants led to several colorful superstitions, resulting in the structure being forsaken as accursed by the natives of the region. All of the surrounding villages had refused the lone survivor as a bad omen. The rumors whispered at the wash basins and wells, the taverns and tanneries all featured a common thread: the wilds had swallowed her as the final, cleansing offering to a goddess who grew more demanding every year. Since that time, the building stood unmaintained.

He ascended the broad stairs, then stopped at the top.

Tisias fully believed that this one simple, unfortunate event had set the common Greek hereabouts against the Theronites. Stories ran rampant of Artemis stealing young girls ripe for marriage from their sweethearts before the nuptial ceremonies were conducted. In spite of rules forbidding the young women of the villages to go hunting for herbs or foraging on the edges of the forest for berries and mushrooms, a certain number of them always seemed to vanish into the pale greens and browns of the trees. Conventional wisdom attributed the loss of the girls to Artemis in her guise as Potnia Theron. Tisias knew better. Young women often ran off, even if it was nothing more than a seething discontent with the man her family had betrothed her to. It wasn't a frequent event, to say the least, but with such a colorful history at their doorstep, he understood the villagers' silly belief in the superstitious 'theft' of nubile virgins. After all, what man or woman would not be interested in the fate of such fascinating creatures? He smiled sagely at the pictures in his own mind.

The temple stood as he had seen it last. He gestured to the heavens in a reverential way and proceeded into the dim interior. A week ago, one of his attendants had visited the site with him, checking for an appropriate area inside to conduct the ceremony. Powdered granite and minute slivers of marble dusted the hard surface of the temple steps and floor, with larger chunks strewn about and resting exactly as they had fallen over the past few centuries. Wild grapevines twined around the fractured stumps of the building's support pillars and even kept vestiges of the roof in place with the tenacity of their grip. Bird droppings discolored the cracked tile floor of the focarium; rotten wood and decayed leaves blown in by decades of storms and rain formed an undisturbed, natural carpet in most areas. The young man had pointed out the descending stairwell, and Tisias ordered him to go below and reconnoiter the subfloor for hazards.

When he had returned unharmed, Tisias followed him back down the stairway. He wasted no time selecting a chamber of good size through which a warm updraft flowed. Wall sconces still in decent condition would serve them well. Tisias had two apprentices return a few days later to clean and prepare the chamber for the ceremony of the Artemesian Accord. The two young men, per orders, had constructed a makeshift altar, and the prescribed furnishings were arranged with care for detail. A cloth-covered screen, hand-painted with prescribed scenes of Goddess worship had been erected behind the altar; the offertory bowl and brew pot placed on a roughly-hewn wooden table; smaller, distinctive Goddess paraphernalia artfully adorned the dim room.

Today, in the flaring light of the torches, Tisias surveyed the flawless arrangement of the accoutrements and trappings his assistants had prepared and he felt satisfied. The Keeping of the Accord was the most important event in his career to date; the act of arbitrement was the crowning glory of any member of his Society. The fact that such important and powerful parties were involved would only add to the polish of his professional reputation. He knew from business connections that the sister of the High Priestess at Delphi was married to the First Citizen of Piraeus, the well-fortified port town of Athens, and that the husband was a Council Member of the Delian League. The league ruled the Aegean Sea with one fierce goal behind all of its mouthings of fairness and democracy for all: the advancement of the maritime trades in oil, olives, wine and pottery. The First Citizen was reputedly involved in a specialized slave trade, too. As he climbed the stairway, Tisias ran through some final minutiae.

He knew instinctively that politics seemed to be drawn to any religious institution... or was it the other way around? The Theronites, in his opinion, had remained remarkably aloof from the political sphere, choosing isolation and obscurity. Their conduit of faith and worship consisted mainly of blessing the crops and livestock of the mountain farmers. His job here today was to help maintain the truce in the same objective manner that all his predecessors had. He cared not the least for politics or currying favor. The ceremony would go off as planned and he was prepared for whatever eventuality occurred.

He stepped back out into the sunlight to look down the road for the two parties. Both small groups were now visible. "Boys! They approach. Come forth now and be ready." The two young men found their places by his side. He could feel their eagerness and pride almost as vividly as his own.

A solidly built woman of middle years walked a length ahead of two younger women, maintaining an easy pace designed to swallow the miles underfoot. Her steely gray hair was cut short, in an athletic style, and she wore a circlet of gold, decorated with leaves and animal faces. Around her neck hung a purple amulet, which caught the heightening sunlight from time to time. Her cloak was embroidered in green and gold thread with a leaping stag, center, and the gray-green olive branches over her shoulders; her right hand grasped a walking stick, cleverly carved to match the stag. This, then, was Prioress Creusa. Just a pace behind her were her junior priestesses, wearing similar, though simpler robes, and with heavy tresses wound about their unadorned heads. Hung between them on a pole was a box of odd design, seemingly woven, yet giving the impression of supreme strength and solidity. Inside would be the holy artifact.

From the converging road to the west, coming out of Lebedaia, walked the Envoy of Temple Delos and her escort. Tisias gave the silent signal to his attendants; they proceeded inside the temple to the chamber and would arrange the fresh fruits, nuts, berries, herbs and wine brought for the Goddess's altar. He stood, smiling in a friendly but impersonal manner. The Theronite delegation reached him first.

Creusa extended her left hand in peace. Tisias returned the sign. "Mother Creusa, welcome." He bowed his head ever so slightly in the direction of her attendant priestesses. Creusa cleared her throat and began the necessary introductions.

"This is the Arbiter General of the Society of the Objective Trophonius. His men will take the Goddess's holy relic from you." She returned her gaze to the man in front of her. A slight lift of her chin and nose accompanied the tilt of her head. She cleared her throat.

"Of course. I am Tisias Orodakis, Arbiter General. I am empowered to take this holy relic and convey it to the Place of Exchange." He snapped his fingers. His assistants were already descending the steps of the temple. They lined up at his side and stood ready. "Take the reliquary, please." The young men moved forward, bowed to the priestesses, then took the leather-wrapped pole handles from them. The pair headed straight for the temple, their steps short but measured, almost as if controlled by the beat of an invisible drum. As they disappeared into the interior of the building, the sound of a horse's snort diverted the group's attention from the reliquary and the temple façade. The Delosian Envoy, Xena, had arrived.

After the introductions were repeated and formalized, Tisias explained the ritual to all five women. He made it clear that the horse would remain outside the temple. No animal sacrifices were to be offered. In the spirit of the Goddess's fertility aspect, only the fruits of the land were acceptable; his attendants had arranged everything already. A brief breaking of the morning fast would preface the actual exchange. He did not specify exactly when the token would be passed physically from Creusa to Xena. The small group proceeded at his beckoning toward the temple at last, nervous smiles masking the solemnity of the occasion.

Continued

Return to The Bard's Corner

The Pillars of the Temple

by Lisa Grandstaff

Part III