ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

Splinters Of The Soul by Diamonddog

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fanfiction copyright 2000 by me.

Subtext: These stories are intended for mature audiences over the age of 21. These stories do include romance and conspicuous love between pairs of consenting female adults. If this stuff offends you, run away screaming now! If this is illegal in your town, vote.

Convolution Alert: This story is an Uber-Xena story (sort of), but it winds its way through several simultaneous stories.  To make it easier on the reader (sort of) I've identified each section with the name of the incarnation of Xena native to that place.

Dedications: I want to thank the two people who made this story possible. 

To my soulmate Dianne, I just want to say thank you.  Putting up with an obsessive, compulsive writer is no easy task.  Thanks for helping me brainstorm and thanks for putting the kids to bed alone and still smiling when I finally managed to join you.  You make me understand what love really is every day of the week.

Send all feedback to: daemonddog@prodigy.net

Part 9 of 27

XXXII- Xena

Xena sharpened her sword.

Her thoughts were becoming increasingly wilder the longer Gabrielle was away.  Even with Jasmine dreaming at night, keeping her abreast of Gabrielle's situation, desperation and frustration were as constant as her shadow now.  She had even tried to solicit Ares' aid when he had come to gloat.  To no avail.  Ares had no knowledge of worlds beyond their own.  And Ares would have helped if he had had the means just to rid Xena of Jasmine, who seemed even more outspoken and sarcastic towards the war god than Gabrielle.

Ares had consulted the other gods, those that were still speaking to him at any rate.  Even Morpheus could not explain the dreams.  They were not his doing, and Ares had said Morpheus was not happy about them.

Xena was considering oracles and seers next though she had little faith in either.

There had to be something she could do.  Gabrielle had lost the wristband.  She had no way to return.  She had to find a way, preferably one that involved getting Raven's soul back as well.  For once however, none of Xena's past experiences or intuitive leaps seemed to be helping her.

Gabrielle...

The warrior's heart ached.  And her temperature rose.

XXXIII- Tygre

Cris awakened slowly, swimming upward through layers of lassitude, breaking the surface with a soft moan.  She did not open her eyes.  Everything hurt too much.  Even her eyelids throbbed.  Opening them would be like running sandpaper over her swollen ocular orbs.  She tried to lift her hand, but the dull gnawing reminder of sharper pains stopped her at the first twitch.  She wished she had gotten the license plate number on that truck... and groaned softly when her lips curled slightly with reckless humor despite her soreness.

"Nice smile," she heard a familiar husky voice purr, "But who are you supposed to be?"

Cris opened her eyes, prepared to wince at harsh light, but the room was dim, almost dark.  Candles burned on a mantle over an unlit fireplace, but they were far enough away that their flames flickered softly, easing Cris' aching eyes.  The dancing light was behind the figure that sat beside her, illuminating her in swaying silhouette.  Cris had no idea where she was, but she knew the gentle curves and strong lines of the woman seated beside her.  But what was her name?

Cris tried to recall and drew a perplexing blank.

"I'm not sure..." Cris mumbled softly, "I can't remember."

The woman laughed softly.  "Don't tell me... let me guess... you have amnesia."

Cris heard the amused skepticism clearly and frowned, the grimace deepening as it invoked the miserable thrill of movement in her aching body.  "It's not funny."

"Depends on your perspective."

"I don't have a perspective... remember?  Amnesia?  Weren't you paying attention?"

"Ooo... haven't forgotten your manners, I see," the woman mused.

"Well, if you don't know me, how do you know I ever had any manners in the first place?"

The woman was silent for a moment.  When she spoke, there was a dangerous chill to the words.  "Oh, I know who you are supposed to be.  I just don't appreciate it."

"Well, at least tell me who I am supposed to be then... maybe it'll ring a bell."  Cris wondered why she was supposed to be anyone other than who she was, but suddenly felt the urge to tread carefully.  Something in the woman's voice.  Something lethal.

Cris tried to sit and was halfway up before she realized that the agony coursing through every sinew and vein of her body was much stronger than she.  She collapsed to one side with a small cry.

"That wasn't smart," the woman observed coolly, but her hands were gentle as she cradled Cris' shoulders and helped ease her back into a comfortable position.  "You look like you've been through hell and back.  Two points for realism, but there is no way you're going to make me believe that you're Cal.  So you can tell whoever you let beat you up like this that Tygre's not buying any."

"You think I let someone do this to me?"  Cris snarled softly, trying to sit up again so she could look this woman in the eye, but Tygre's hands had not left her shoulders.  Her grip was like warm lead pinning her to the bed.  Cris stopped struggling after a moment.  It was useless, and she wanted to conserve her strength.

"How do you know you didn't let anyone beat you?  You can't remember, remember?" 

Cris knew she was being baited, but she couldn't resist.  "Ooooo... how clever of you.  Listen, lady..."

"My name is Tygre."

"Sorry.  Listen, Tygre.  I may not remember WHO I am, but I goddamn well know that I'd kick anyone's ass who tried to do this me."

The woman cocked her head.  "You've definitely got the looks and the temper down, but Cal was..."

"You're not listening!" Cris yelled, her blood raging. 

Releasing a scream of pain like a battle cry as her battered body struggled to obey her obstinacy, Cris wrenched her shoulder free of Tygre's grip.  Trembling from anger and exhaustion, Cris bared her teeth, sat up, cocked one arm back, and threw her clenched fist directly at Tygre's face with all her remaining strength.  The blow should have connected, but a wall of palm intercepted Cris’ fist and fingers and held her right hook firmly inches from the shadowy jaw line she had targeted. 

Tygre's brow quirked.  "Mmmmm..."  The sensual murmur sent an unwelcome shiver of delight down Cris' spine.  She knew she knew this woman, if only she could remember.  Tygre's crooked grin caught a ray of dancing candlelight and glowed like a waning sliver of moonlight only barely brighter than the velvet darkness that enveloped the rest of her body.  "Stubborn and beautiful.  I'm impressed.  Who are you?" 

"Which word didn't you get?  I don't know who I am!"  Cris snapped and was going to continue with a colorful string of curses, but Tygre used the balled fist she still held to slowly force the blonde to lay back down on the bed.  Outraged, Cris pushed back, biting her tongue as the pain began to build, but Tygre did not relent.  When the pain escalated to agony, Cris ground her teeth and growled, throwing even more of herself into the battle, but Tygre only smiled serenely and effortlessly pushed harder.  Sweat broke out on Cris' brow.  Tygre leaned forward a fraction of an inch.  Cris felt the weight of Tygre's tall body bearing down on her trembling fist.

"I never lose," Tygre whispered, her face so close to Cris that Cris could see the soulless pale blue of her eyes and the shocking snow white of her mane.

Those eyes...

Cris collapsed, her arm falling limply to her side.

Pale blue eyes, whispering voice, shadows danced in her brain then melted away.  She knew this woman.  Cris gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.  "Where am I anyway?"

"That isn't half so interesting a question as how you got here."

"How I got here?"  Cris tried to remember, but all she recalled was a black whistling wind.

Tygre nodded.  "Yes... you just popped into my living room out of no where.  No one knows where I am or could possibly have found this place.  And even if they had, no one could have penetrated my protective barriers without destroying them.  And yet, you appeared, battered and bruised and broken, without even rippling my defenses.  A wounded look-alike for my dear dead Cal in need of my aid..." She tapped Cris' cheek without smiling.  "This has set-up written all over it, and I have a good idea who's behind it.  The only question is why."

"Well, if I knew anything about it, I sure don't know it now.  But I can tell you one thing for sure.  This girl doesn't get beat up for anyone's set-up!"

"Really?"  Tygre poked at an ugly bruise peeking through a tear in Cris's shirt and watched Cris wince.  "Could've fooled me."

"Stop that!"  Cris growled, annoyed that it sounded more like a whine.

Tygre patted Cris' cheek patronizingly.  "Well, knowing Ruby, you probably really do have amnesia.  He has a talent for details.  Maybe he sent you here as some sort of apology."  Tygre's eyes roamed Cris up and down in frank appraisal.  "You could be Cal's twin."

"I'm not like anyone you've ever known... including your Cal."  The cocky words were out before Cris thought, and now she was wondering why the hell she had said that.  Except that this woman seemed to deserve it being said.

Tygre raised one slender white brow. "For someone who has no idea who she is, you sure seem to think a lot of yourself."

"Good, we understand one another then."  That sounded so familiar.  Had she said it before? 

Tygre watched her quietly.

"So how bad am I hurt anyway?"

"Mostly bruises and superficial abrasions, but some of the bruises are deep.  You won't be running any marathons anytime soon."

"I just need to get from here to a taxi and from there to a hotel.  Room service can handle the rest."

Another amused smile.  "Oh, you're leaving so soon?"

Cris smiled, all flashing eyes and saccharine sweetness.  "Didn't mean to impose in the first place... I'll kill my travel agent later."  At least, Cris hoped she had not meant to come here.  Cris could not imagine purposely seeking out this annoying woman's company, even if she was beautiful in an arrogant bitchy sort of way.

"There is no telephone here, so you'll have to stay until you're strong enough to leave..." Tygre's eyes roamed the length of Cris' body again and chuckled softly, "If you're strong enough to leave..."

Cris bristled but did not bother responding either physically, because that had already proved a waste of time, or verbally, because she had the feeling that anything she said would only make things worse.  Then something sizzled inside her and achieved meltdown.  Before she could reel in the impulse, she snapped, "You mean if you're strong enough to part with me..."

Tygre cocked her head and quirked one pencil-thin brow rakishly, her lips drawn into a tightly bowed, humorless grin.  "Really now?  If I didn't think that it was exactly what you came here to do, I'd accept that challenge..." She paused thoughtfully, "Hmmmm... guess you need a name.  What shall we call you?"

"Call me, Cal.. let's keep it simple and easy... since we both know that's what you see anyway," Cris sneered, pleased to see the smile vanish from the warrior's lips.  Warrior?  What made her think this woman was a warrior?  Did she know her?  Was it possible that she really was some kind of spy or tribute as Tygre had suggested?  Cris hated not knowing, especially since there was something extremely familiar about all of this.  About her.

Tygre was staring at her with cold blue eyes again.  Good.  Let her think carefully before goading this wounded lion, Cris thought to herself.

"Are you hungry... Cal?"  Tygre choked on the name, but she managed to spit it out, twisting the single syllable into a curse as she "accidentally" leaned on Cris' tender abdomen.

Cris' clever response devolved into a gasp of pain as she tried to scramble from beneath that pressure.  Tygre leaned away almost, but not quite, immediately.  Her icy eyes widened in mock innocence.  "Did I do that?"

"You better hope I NEVER get better..." Cris growled furiously.

"Temper, temper, Cal... I'm not sure excitement is good for you."

"In that case, I'll be safe with you... can't think of anyone less exciting to convalesce with!"

Tygre smiled wickedly.  "Ever heard the one about protesting too much, Cal?"

Cris' eyes danced.  "Cal's dead.  Better think of another name..."

Tygre's eyes darkened.  Deadly dispassion claimed her visage completely.  Cris shivered softly to herself and wondered once again if she had indeed gone to far with this dangerous warrior, but part of her did not care.  She would show this woman that she was her equal in every way, regardless of the cost.  Somehow that seemed important.

Tygre sat in silence, staring at her as though she could wilt Cris beneath her gaze, then stood up abruptly and left the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind her.  Cris was surprised not to hear the sound of a lock turning.  Considering her health, however, perhaps Tygre was not worried.  Or perhaps Tygre was not worried period.

Cris pondered the warrior and the strange familiarity she felt in her presence.  She tried to remember who she was and how she had come to be here.  The only thing she could recall was a black cold wind that howled from some frozen hell.  She hoped that was not where she originated, but she was willing to discount nothing too quickly.  She had the feeling that she had become a player in a very bizarre screenplay.  Screenplay.  That word seemed important, too, and it tugged at her. 

XXXIV- Tygre

"Tygre!"

Ruby stood up smoothly as the white-maned warrior sauntered down the long walk that separated the double doors opening upon the Prince's sanctum from the heavy desk at the opposite end of the room.  Antique sofa and chair arrangements lined the walls, their clawed feet resting on the glossy parquet floors, as though this were some smoking parlor.  The only carpeting was the crimson length upon which Tygre walked and the Persian rug beneath Ruby's desk.  Paintings and statuary adorned the sanctum, giving it a medieval ambience, and accentuating the blue-eyed black man's station.

Tygre strolled through it without a sideways glance, her air haughtier by far than any atmosphere generated by either Ruby or his hall.  She was the kind of woman that Ruby liked, despite the fact that such women seldom returned his affections, knowing that his interest would be nothing more than dalliance or the bonding of a friendship.  Ruby was not monogamous, but he had found his soulmate.  They had an understanding, and Ruby knew exactly how far he could go... and only seldom went farther.

"What a pleasant surprise!" 

Ruby moved from behind the desk to greet her.  He stopped a few steps away from the leather-clad woman.  The hem of her full-length outback jacket settled around her booted ankles with a soft rustle.

She inclined her head slightly in greeting, her cold blue eyes never leaving his twinkling gaze.  "Ruby."

"I had no idea you were around."

She nodded.  "I am not around, and I am well-cloaked here.  None will feel my presence.  I am enjoying my solitude."

Ruby nodded, wondering what Nash had done to prompt this visit.  At least, she was not here with that bloody black sword of hers.  A good sign.  Perhaps the demon lord really could deliver what he had promised.

"So what have you been up to, Ruby?"  She asked the question casually, but Ruby felt his hackles rise.

Tygre was not one to play games for long.  The ice had gotten thin quickly.  Best to tread with caution and great circumspection.  Ruby smiled one of his more sincere smiles, the kind he used to put people at ease, but Tygre did not reciprocate.  Her gaze was even and emotionless.  Not angry.  Not pleasant.  Not anything.  Just empty.  Assassin's eyes.

"Nothing of real note," he shrugged, "And what about you?"

She smiled ingenuinely.  "Oh, I am being entertained at present by a remarkable replica of Cal... but you wouldn't know anything about that would you?"  She moved past him and leaned with her back to his desk, facing him as he turned to keep her in view.  She did not cross her arms.  Have to keep the hands free at all times, Ruby thought.  He knew the ways of assassins and bounty hunters.  He had not always been a prince.

Ruby replayed her words in his head and weighed them carefully.  Perhaps this was part of Nash's plan to leave her indebted to him and cooperative.  "Does she please you, Tygre?"  He smiled, neither confirming nor denying but leaving the impression that he was indeed responsible.  He left a wide escape route.  There was no telling what was on Tygre's mind.

Tygre smiled.  "She pleases me very much, Ruby.  I accept your apology, though I will never forgive you."  Her eyes bore into him, and the grin on her face was an executioner's smile.  "One question though..."

Ruby steeled himself.  Here it comes... the reason for her visit.

"Where did you get her?  Who is she?  I really need to know."

Ruby lied easily.  "I bought her from Storm, but I never ask where he obtains his merchandise."

"I thought Storm was out of the slave trade, Ruby?  Isn't that what you promised the other princes?"

Ruby nodded, frowning.  "And I have Gabriella to thank for that, don't I?" 

Her shoulders stiffened at the mention of the name though her lip curled into a hint of a smile.  Hatred, Ruby noted, but she was still proud of the damned bitch.

Ruby shrugged at her.  "Storm is out of the business, but he still does the odd favor for me when I need something only he can procure."

"Storm, eh?"

Ruby inclined his head.  "Storm."

"Well, we're even then Ruby.  But stay out of my affairs in the future if you value my neutrality."

Ruby smiled a smile that promised nothing.  "Of course, Tygre."  Ruby liked it when things came together well.  He wondered vaguely how Nash would complete this interesting plot of his, but decided to observe rather than interfere.  Being an artist in such a Machiavellian medium, he enjoyed seeing the work of others.

Ruby snapped from his reverie when the double doors closed behind her.  He should warn Storm.

XXXV- Tygre

The afternoon sunlight tumbled through the tree in the front yard before splashing in through the tall windows in the main room, the brightness fracturing into odd shapes as they danced on the thick wine-colored carpet. 

Nash smiled.  "Perfect."

Raven said nothing.  The leather felt nice, but she missed the weight of her armor.  Nash's assurance that such antiquities would do her no good on this world made her feel even less comfortable.  The sword nestled against her back, safely tucked into its scabbard, did not help to relieve her edginess.  She knew it would protect her, but she also understood that drawing that murderous blade might entail a price that she was not willing to pay.  It was there merely to complete her appearance, though she noted with a smirk that Nash stayed well out of range of her now.  He seemed far less sure of her resolve not to wield the black sword and was taking no chances.

Smart chaoslord.  Best not to irritate an armed warrior princess.

Nash handed her a long two-layered black coat, the over layer designed to rest over her shoulders like the wings of her namesake.  "This should do it."

Raven disliked the idea of being contained by the coat.  It might interfere with her more creative maneuvers in a fight.  But, according to Nash, there was not supposed to be any fighting.  If it came down to that, then the game was over.  Nash had assured her that she would be unable to mimic Tygre in that arena.  Tygre was a demigod and a sorcerer as well as a warrior.  She used magick as well as her blade.  Luckily, Nash claimed, her reputation was such that few beings purposely set out to engage her in battle.

Raven was not near as confident.

She pursed her lips and tried to remember a situation that hadn't come down to fighting.  Well, there was that... no... she had hit the innkeeper.  Or that time when... no... the warlord had interfered and she had had no choice... and besides it had felt good putting that bastard in his place.  Jasmine had even foregone a lecture.  Raven smiled. 

The odds were definitely in favor of a fight.  Which meant that Nash's plan was dangerous, and she needed Nash to get back to Jasmine.

Raven hmmmed to herself thoughtfully.  Maybe Nash's plan just needed a bit more creativity.  A dash of warrior princess perhaps.  Raven began rethinking the plan.

"Nash!"  The man in the doorway stared at the chaoslord, arms crossed over his suit, brown eyes glinting behind round spectacles.  

Nash jumped and for a moment his expression was exactly that of young child caught misbehaving. 

Raven could not resist a derisive snort.  It was nice to know that someone could disrupt the chaoslord's arrogant demeanor.  Though Nash regained his equilibrium quickly, smiling broadly as he crossed the room and embraced the unreciprocating new arrival, Raven felt the mood of the room shift. 

"Jordan... I'm so glad you've returned early.  As you can see, the experiment was a complete success."

Jordan spared her a cursory glance, but his lips tightened.  "I thought we agreed that you would wait for me."

"Did we?"  Nash's long lashes fluttered as though he were trying to recall something mentioned in passing.

"Yes.  We did."  Jordan grabbed Nash's arm roughly.  "Excuse us, please..." Jordan tossed her an apologetic smile and yanked the chaoslord out of the room by the lapel of his brightly colored waistcoat.

Raven could not resist a soft chuckle.  So that was the invincible chaoslord...

XXXVI- Xena

"Where are we going, Xena?"

The warrior had been hiking along silently for hours.  Jasmine had fallen into step beside her and found herself telling stories all morning.  After the first, one of the many stories of the eternal battles between the Lords of Chaos and Law, Xena had stopped on the path and skewered her with one of those looks.  "How about telling a few tales about you and Raven instead?"

Jasmine had swallowed the lump in her throat at the mention of Raven's name then found herself rattling on happily about all the wonderful adventures she and Raven had shared.  Jasmine skipped the bad times.  They had not been that long ago, and even now the memory of Raven's hate-filled gaze as she blamed Jasmine for the death of her child could leave the bard's psyche stripped and aching.  She had almost lost Raven during that painful rift and had never experienced a more horrible time in her life.  Luckily, she noted as she told tale after tale, the happy stories far outweighed the unhappy.  She and Raven had risen above blame, guilt, loss, and deceptions, stronger and healthier than ever.

But some of the words they had spoken to one another and the things they had done... Jasmine shuddered.

Xena had listened quietly, glancing over when the bard's accompanying gestures filled the space between them.  Xena said nothing but smiled gently, especially at Jasmine's descriptions of her relationship with her warrior.  Jasmine was accustomed to skipping those parts when she told her tales for dinars in the taverns.  She only indulged herself in the Amazon villages, delighted when the warrior-women cheered at every victory and drooled over every kiss. 

Xena's attention had shifted more frequently from the path they trod as the bard grew more animated.  Jasmine enjoyed telling her tales in their entirety, and it showed.  Editing out the passion always made her a little sad, as though she were denying a part of her soul, but Raven was immoveable when it came to keeping their private life private.  Raven argued that they had enough problems without encouraging every bigot and pervert in the country to join the ranks of their enemies.  The rumors were dangerous enough.  Raven insisted that confirming them would be far worse.  Jasmine acknowledged the logic and respected Raven's wishes, but it still felt wrong.

Jasmine realized she had been musing again and frowned, "Hey, where are we going?"  Jasmine glimpsed the warrior's knowing smile.  "I did NOT forget my question," she huffed.

"Mmmm... I could tell."

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Well, I was thinking about how nice it was to tell those stories without skipping..."  Jasmine caught Xena's playful grin out of the corner of her eye.  "Oh, no you don't.  Where are we going, Xena?"  Jasmine tried to keep her question firmly in mind this time, but the warrior's silky voice distracted her and made her acutely aware of Raven's long absence.  She tried not to look at Xena, tried not to see the amused smile and gentle twinkles that she knew Xena concealed from the rest of the world, gentleness that made the warrior even more beautiful than the stunning physical perfection the Fates had bestowed upon her.  It was not difficult for Jasmine to believe that Raven and Xena shared a piece of the same soul.  No one else had ever made her feel so...

Jasmine noted the silence again with a sigh of resignation.  Xena had not answered her, and the bard could feel the touch of the warrior's stare on her.  With inexplicable certainty, she knew Xena's thoughts were of Gabrielle.  Jasmine could feel it, but the warrior seemed untouched by the awkwardness that ate at Jasmine's soul whenever the sight of Xena brought Raven's memories so vividly to her mind.

"It's natural."

How did she do that?  How did she pluck out Jasmine's deepest thoughts and voice them with such a simple and elegant economy of words.  "What's natural?" 

"To look at me and see Raven."

"How did you..."

Xena chuckled softly, a husky sensual sound that sent another guilty thrill through the bard.  "You were blushing... it wasn't hard to guess."

"Xena... I know you're not Raven.  And I know you know that I'm not Gabrielle.  But you act the same, you say the same things, you read my thoughts the same way, you care... not the same way, of course... but I know you would never let anything happen to me.  You're this close..." she held up her forefinger and thumb a hair's breadth apart, "But I'm still a world apart from my Raven."  She sighed heavily. "I don't know what I'm trying to say..."

"You miss her, and it hurts to be with me."

Jasmine cursed the warrior silently.  And the worst part about it was that Xena did not give her uncanny awareness of the bard's inner secrets a second thought.  It was as natural to her as keen hearing and inhumanly quick reflexes.  But at least Xena did not know about...

"And from the sounds of your stories, you and Raven were quite... active.  I'm sure that doesn't make this any easier."

"Is there anything you don't know, Xena?"  The bard was completely exasperated.  If it had been Raven, she would have tumbled her into the grass and engaged the oh-so-clever warrior princess into a furious wrestling match that would have inevitably ended with their naked sweating bodies cooling beneath the night stars many hours later.  She did not dare initiate such play with Xena.  She was afraid that she might lose herself in eyes and hands that were deceptively familiar.  

Jasmine blushed again.  

Xena quirked her brow and pursed her lips dryly.  "You really wanna know what I know right now, Jasmine?"  Xena scratched the tip of her nose and sniffed the air, smirking, as the bard's blush brightened to a raging crimson.

Jasmine shook her head definitively.  "NO!"

The warrior grinned, continuing down the path without missing a beat.

"So where are we going?"  Jasmine raised her voice and tried to steer the conversation back to something safer.

"To see an old friend who owes me a favor."

Jasmine perked up.  "Someone before Gabrielle's time or after?"

"After."

"Male or female?"

"Male."

"Hmmm... now it gets tricky...  people don't seem to have the same names on your world as they do on mine.  So...."  Jasmine cocked her head thoughtfully.  "Was it the guy you helped return to his kingdom and then restrung his bow without him knowing?"

"Ulysses?"  Xena smiled, nodding vigorously, then added flatly, "No."

"Tease."  Jasmine laughed.

Xena's voice dropped roguishly.  "Not always..."

Jasmine shook her head at the incorrigible warrior princess.  "Okay, how about that warlord wannabee who kidnapped me and sold me to marry that dead king?"

"You mean Palaemon?"  Xena grinned.  "Nope."

"What about Shadrik the Mighty?"

"Now would that be the Mighty bumbling idiot who constantly drools after you or the Mighty reformed drunk who almost got you executed alongside him?"

"Er.. the reformed drunk that almost got me executed.  Who is the idiot who constantly drools after me?"

"Oh, come on... you've got to have a Joxer where you come from!  Tall slender fellow with a good heart, no common sense, slightly delusional, and adolescent fantasies of you that usually get him into trouble?  Joxer?"

Jasmine shook her head.  "I don't know anyone like that, and I can't imagine him surviving Raven's wrath with a crush like that."

Xena chuckled.  "Oh, he's harmless enough... just annoying."  Xena frowned.  "You really don't have a Joxer?"

Jasmine shook her head.

"Then to whom did Aphrodite give her enchanted bell?"  Xena asked curiously.

Jasmine tried to translate in her mind.

"You know, the bell that almost caused two kingdoms to go to war?  Every time the bell rang, Joxer would turn into this suave swordsman and the princess would forget Sarpedon, the prince she was supposed to marry, and melt into Joxer's arms."

"Oh, that."  Jasmine giggled.  "That was you... I mean, Raven... only it wasn't funny then.  Ellyssia, the chaoslord dedicated to love, was angry because the union of the two kingdoms meant that she would lose two of her temples.  Chaoslords gain their power from their followers.  Fewer temples meant that Ellyssia's powers would be diminished.  So she used her chaos glamour and gave me the bell.  Whoever heard it ring first was supposed to be the victim of its spell.  I guess she thought that would be me," Jasmine tried to suppress another bout of laughter.  "But I gave the bell to Raven and she tinkled it first."

Xena shook her head.  "I'm afraid to ask what happened..."

Jasmine snickered softly.  "It was so bad.  Every time the bell rang, Raven turned into some kind of pacifistic, womanizing, silver-tongued poet.  She refused to fight, claiming that she was a lover, not a fighter, and was willing to prove the wisdom of her choice with any woman who cared to test the theory." 

Xena snorted. 

Jasmine glanced at Xena's face and was barely able to finish the story.  The warrior princess looked as though she had just swallowed a bug.  "The princess, all her ladies in waiting, and every woman in the general vicinity kept falling into Raven's arms every time she opened her mouth.  I had my hands full trying to save us from execution and beat off all the competition without seriously hurting anyone.  Especially since Raven was driving me as crazy as the rest of the women and, whenever that damned bell rang, she refused to waste her infinite talents on swordplay.  I was so furious with her at the time... but looking back, it really was funny."

"Oh yeah... sounds hilarious," Xena drawled dryly.  "Sorry I missed it.  Guess I better thank Joxer next time I see him."

Jasmine's giggles subsided slowly.  "Xena?"

"Hmmmm?"

"This person who owes you the favor... he can help us find Gabrielle and Raven?"

"I hope so."

Jasmine nodded.  They shared the silence, each haunted by the ghostly hunger for the woman who should have walked this path beside them.

"Xena?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Is it Shadrik the Mighty?"

Xena smiled.  "Nope."

Part 10