With only a sigh, Xena felt her spirit step back as the tall captain took control. At the memories of the carnage
on the ghost ship, Zara took hold of the pirate captain, felt his body struggle for only a moment before she held
his head with her left hand. While the remaining pirates began to surrender, the Moroccan took the Malaysian
man’s head and gave a quick twist and heard his neck snap from the pressure. She dropped his dead body to
the deck and staggered herself as relief filled her.
When silence and order returned to the ship, the Moroccan woman felt herself falling back into the shadows of
her mind. From nearby, she watched Gabrielle pulling herself onto the ship. Some of the Arabian men
reached down and pulled her up and stood back as the blonde warrior glanced around the deck.
Gabrielle was not certain of what she would find. Around her were the fallen from Zara’s crew as well as the
pirates. Instinctively, she moved from injured man to injured man, assessing their wounds as she passed
orders to Isa, while the men from the newly arrived Arabian ship took control of the pirates. It was then that
she saw the tall captain, her battered bruised body standing on wobbly legs, her right eye swollen, blood
matting her dark hair and covering her face as her right arm hung limp. Like a newly fallen tree, the tall woman
suddenly fell backward on the deck and didn’t move again. At the same moment Gabrielle saw Xena jump
free from the dusky captain’s fallen form.
“Xena!” Gabrielle screamed to her soulmate as she ran toward them. Panting, Xena coughed as she laid on
the deck near the fallen Moroccan woman.
“She’s…. Gabrielle… I-I had to…” The warrior began to explain as Gabrielle moved to Zara, lifted her head
onto her lap and sobbed with relief when she saw the Moroccan’s chest move with her breathing.
“Xena, it’s ok. I understand,” she reached out and lightly touched her soulmate. At the instant contact, she
was surprised to not feel anything. The freezing cold, the sense of pain could no longer be felt. Instead, her
fingers went through Xena as if she were not even there. She looked at her fingertips and then stared at the
flickering ghost.
“Xena!” She choked, fear seizing her. “What’s wrong?”
Oh, by the gods, she thought frantically. Please don’t let me lose both of them! Not now, not after all of
this!
“I…” the warrior princess ghost panted, “…tired …need …ca-can’t…” her words barely audible as her
image phased in and out of existence.
“Xena, rest. Do what you need to do, please, Xena!” the blonde begged. With only a nod, Xena’s shape fell
to the deck, then blinked out of sight like a blown out candle.
Although frantically worried about what had happened to Xena, her healer instincts took control, and Gabrielle
ran her fingers over the Moroccan captain’s form. With shaky hands, she searched for Zara’s injuries. The
Greek woman swallowed with terror when she realized how bad her lover’s injuries were, then she took
control of her fears and began to tend to them. Seeing the Moroccan fallen, Abu moved and kneeled by his
captain.
“Zara,” his voice was low as he touched her arm then looked at Gabrielle.
“She’s alive, but I need to take care of her,” she said tensely as she tore some cloth from the pants of a dead
pirate and held it over the captain’s bleeding head wound.
From nearby, a group of men moved toward them. While some wore all black Arab clothing, another wore a
similar white outfit. As they stood near, they spoke softly as they pointed to the female captain. Protectively,
Abu rose, his bloody weapon easily balanced in his hand as he gazed at the men.
“Salaam and greetings, brother,” one in black stated as he moved to the front of the group, offering the
traditional salute and then glanced down at Zara.
“She fought bravely and our master wishes to know her name,” he asked Abu. With a slight frown, Abu
glanced at the man in white.
“And who is your master that he wants to know?” Abu growled as he stared at the man’s master.
With a wide smile, the older man stepped forward, and bowed low before Abu as he saluted the big man.
“Salaam, brother. I am Sultan Uthman Hadim ibn Zafar ibn Ja’lal ‘abd al-Quaiti, of the kingdom of
Hadhramaut and I wish to know who is this woman that saved myself and my entourage.”
Gabrielle vaguely noticed as those from Zara’s ship fell to one knee, their heads bowed upon hearing the man’
s title. Only interested in her missing soulmate, her hurting friend and her dead and wounded crewmen,
Gabrielle reached around her lover and pulled more cloth from another pirate’s body, holding it firmly against
the already blood-soaked cloth on the Moroccan’s wound. Before anything more could be said by the foolish
men parading on the deck while the wounded and dying laid all around, the Greek healer came to her feet and
turned on the older Arab man, her voice harsher than she intended.
“HEY! She’s hurt! I need to tend to her! They all need help!” she gestured around at the carnage on the ship
before saying grimly, “What are you gonna do about it?”
Even though he did not understand the words, her angry tone caused the Sultan’s eyes to grow wide. When
he gazed at the Moroccan captain, he frowned, turned to his men and quickly barked some orders in a dialect
Gabrielle did not know. Before she knew what was happening, the men in black had picked up Zara and
were carrying her across the Prahu, easily crossing the distance to the Moroccan ship. With a curt nod of
thanks, the blonde followed close behind the men carrying her lover, knowing that Abu would tend to matters
with the Sultan.
