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These pages were last updated: September 22, 1998
©September 22 1998
URL: ../../STO/hell/hell44.htmlThe following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights. If you don't agree or disapprove, please go read something else.
Tok leered happily as she trotted besides the unhappy Striger burdened by Hope's presence. It was only the young woman's intent focus of control on the creature that kept the wooly smelly beast from breaking and galloping up the steep hill in fear of the sleek hunter. The feeling was one that Hope could relate to. She had the same impulse. One of her early lessons, when she'd come home having failed her father, was the "privilege" of watching a hunt of daggites do their carnivorous work. The screams of the kill as they were teased and then finally rended still disturbed her sleep, though she never would have admitted it. One did not have a weakness in front of her father, let alone show it.
An added burden was that Tok was like its peers. Izacon had said, "Guard." She'd not said anything about not having fun. So the cunning creature would sometimes slide under the striger's belly and nip, just to see it Jump or skitter to the side. Or else, Tok would seem to drift away, disappear, and then charge back in from out of nowhere. The striger's reaction made Tok hungry for blood, but the daggite knew better than to make a meal of the ride. Besides, Tok would get a better reward for doing what the pack leader commanded than not.
But Hope didn't know that. All she knew was that she was under the daggite's constant survellaince and that her opportunities to keep to her own business were few and far between. And thanks to the Amazons she'd had no time at all to contact her father, or rather, she'd been too tired....and sore.
At the moment, she was holding the reins loosely in her hands, letting her mind do all the hard work with the resistant striger. One would think it would be easy to control such a dumb animal, but like all Tartarans it had a natural protection against mental intrusion and Hope had to work all the harder to initiate and maintain her will over the creature. Izacon made it seem so easy.
Hope had observed her whispering in the strigers ears...and the creatures had been docile. All of them, except for hers. But then, Hope had said, oh so pridefully, "I can handle my own beast." Izacon had stepped back, and, as she'd bowed to Melosa's wishes, now she'd bowed to Hope's.
"Be sure it's worth it," Izacon had said. A subtle warning from lips too sweet to look upon and eyes grown suddenly cold. The baring of her teeth had caused an unrecognizable shiver down Hope's spine.
Fear? No, she feared her father?
Lust? No...she didn't think so. She'd dealt with lust before, and had satiated herself with the locals of her father's keep or her own hand.
She didn't know what it was.
All she knew was that she must handle it, as she was handling the beast under her. And so she was....so she was..and sweating about it too. Why did this have to be so difficult?
It had seemed like such a simple plan to get back into her father's good graces. Win Izacon's favor or dispose of her. Hope glaced at the glinting silver reflection of her ring, noting the green jewel that matched her eyes. It hid the cache of poison. One drop in the drink and...
Hope sighed.
She wasn't sure what she was going to do. There were times that she positively wanted to slay Izacon and other times...other times..when that unrecognizable shiver took over and made her feel unbearably....lonely. Needful. Longing.
The white of the bandages on her hands made the brown of the leather stand out. They'd hurt something ferocious the day before, but now her hands just throbbed dully and resisted when she tried to grip. Izacon's gentle, silent ministration had eased away the sharpness in her hands. In her mind, Hope could still see the way the Tartaran's brow creased in concentration as she'd lathered the young woman's hands. She remembered looking up and noting the way Xena's dark unreadable azure gaze seemed to pierce through to her core.
She didn't understand that either.
Hatred she'd expected, maybe even fear, but the dead didn't fear death the way mortals do. They only feared the pain....and Xena didn't seem to fear that during her mortal years, so ...
No...again, a puzzle. Xena had gazed at her with all the interest of one who'd made a bargain. One who would keep the prize healthy, until the reward was given. The alliance was made, not through Izacon's will, but through Hope's enemy. Xena.
Xena, the lover of Gabrielle, her Mother.
Where was her mother, if Xena was here when she should not be? Hadn't Dahok mourned that Xena had been sent to Elysia? So many cries that night, loud and painful. Not her own voice though.
Her own pain she kept silent. Hatred developed better that way, quiet and hidden until its fruition.
How could people love this..woman? This betrayer? Why hadn't Gabrielle loved her? Hope didn't understand it at all.
When Hope had asked, unintentionaly uncontrollably coldly, where her mother was, Xena had shrugged. "That's what I'm hear to find out." Then she'd picked up her mug and stalked off, angry for some reason...but not at Hope. It was more..at herself. Perhaps for mating with Izacon?
Not that one could do a whole lot when the Tartaran mating ritual caught one up...Hope had her own scars to prove that..and it was a true mating, given the markings on Izacon's body.
Amazing that.
So in the end, Gabrielle had lost what she'd traveled Tartarus for. It was such a pure punishment that it made Hope wriggle with a sweet kind of pain...at first..Then she'd felt...a little lost.
Another oddity.
Mysteries upon Mysteries.
Hope knew her Mother resided in Tartarus. The betrayer. Gabrielle belonged here if anyone did. But, as the tribe had found, no one knew where she'd gone and Hope....hadn't been allowed out of Dahok's house to find out.
"Why are you so interested in Gabrielle," Oriena asked. She'd nodded at Hope's body, "Aside from the obvious, I mean? What has she done that you'd want to find her?" The question had taken Hope a little aback. She'd not expected such directness.
In her father's house, No one was that direct...Everything was subtle, crafty. It was hard to be crafty around these people. They were so blunt.
Oriena was a curiosity to young Tartaran. (One of many that had been capturing her attention lately...) The amazon treated Hope with a neutrality that the demoness found refreshing. Perhaps because she looked less like a Tartaran and more like her mother. Perhaps. It didn't really matter. Like herself, Oriena was only doing an assigned task and Hope could actually appreciate that. Assignments...had been her life...and so it had been no different for her to muck about in a stable as to fuck at her father's command. Well, some different, ...one was..definitely more fun..than the other..but both were work that made her sweat and groan.
"Why are *you* trying to find her?" Hope had rejoined. She hadn't really expected an answer. She just wanted to avoid saying the truth.
Oriena had lifted the shovel and tossed it to the young woman with practiced ease..then to Hope's surprise had taken up a shovel of her own, "Because she was queen of the Amazons once and we Amazons take care of our own."
"Always?" Hope had asked.
Oriena's gaze had been penetrating, until Hope started moving the shovel in the muck. Then the blonde had started to dig. "Always."
Mysteries upon Mysteries.
She didn't understand these people at all. Their loyalty was strange. How did one purchase it? Her father had said, "Everyone has their price." What price had Gabrielle paid? Where had she gone? If she were here in Tartarus...why hadn't she come to ...
the idea whispered in her soul, hidden so long from view it resisted the pull into the light...
One thing Hope knew in her heart...
As Xena now sought, so had Gabrielle.
But why hadn't the bard come for Hope? Hadn't she been worth...something..anything at all..to her mother? That was a wound that wasn't fast closing..unlike the blisters upon her hand.
Hope looked down at the bandages again and flexed her fingers. Tonight she would unwrap her hands and where the wounds had been, fresh skin would be. Flesh wounds were always the easiest to heal..soul wounds...
The young woman shifted her weight on the striger, adjusting for the uphill climb on the stony path. She noted the tall twisted masses of rock imposing their presence on both sides. Gravel slid from where her ...consort (perhaps..someday..if she were patient? a vague feeling of optimism dribbled past the doubt that visited with her these days.. Her palms suddenly felt warm)...rode with Xena, up front, and past down towards Melosa and her mate..and the men..then Penho. Hope's lips curled up sardonically as she looked back, past the chieftess and towards the men.
She noted that they shifted uneasily in their seats. No doubt adjusting and cursing themselves for it. A small derisive laugh bubbled up in Hope's throat. At least the men were frightened of her.
That made her feel a little better.
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These pages were last updated: September 22, 1998
©September 22 1998
URL: ../../STO/hell/hell44.html