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Archive name: (Xena4.txt
Authors name: Zeus
X E N A T H E W A R R I O R P R I N C E S S
PART 4 OF 9
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
This series contains sexual intercourse, rape, lesbian
sex, murder, and mayhem. If you feel this might offend
you or you are not a consenting adult, read no further.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Kristen's collection ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
She crushed herself against him and clamped her
mouth over his, her tongue invading his mouth ravenous-
ly. As their sweat-slicked bodies slid over each other
- Milan could feel Xena's hard, hot nipples poking into
his chest as if they wanted to penetrate him. Their
gasps and moans mixed together as they felt an immense
wave of lust and pleasure build inside. Locked together
and felt the world go into a spin as his cum surged in-
to her body. They writhed as if they were impaled on
the same spear of intense pleasure. Their breaths were
like blast furnaces against each other's skin as they
shared a few more strokes, wincing with the unbearably
delicious friction.
"Sleep, my warrior," she whispered as she felt
the warm, soft blanket of slumber wrap around them.
"The battle awaits us."
#
The mercenary ship docked just after dawn in the
bustling seaport of Bandar. Though the city itself was
just waking and opening for another business day,
activity on the dock went on at all hours. The vessel
docked across from two heavily laden cargo ships haul-
ing textiles from the far east. Long trains of dock
workers grunted under the heavy bundles as foremen
cursed about schedules and lost wages. The two warriors
were barely visible in the crush of humans and demi-
humans that were scrambling frantically between the
docked vessels and the rows of warehouses that separ-
ated the shore from the market area.
"By the gods, I've never been in a place so con-
fusing! And the smell!" Milan urged Xena to get them
far away from a fishmonger's cart that had collided
with one carrying pickled animal parts. The shouts were
coming loud and furious in two different languages.
Xena ignored Milan's queasy voice as she scanned
the piers. She found the yellow sails that marked the
slave ships, which were docked at the southern-most
pier. As they neared the end of the pier, the crowd
thinned out. Xena dragged Milan into a side alley that
doubled as an open sewer.
"The ones in the red turbans and black pants are
the harbor patrol. Avoid them at all costs. Most of
them are drawing pay from the Assassin's Guild. Also
stay clear of the ones wearing bright yellow, those are
the slavers."
They picked their way to the adjacent street,
which was crowded with spice vendors. The curving route
led them to the market yard. It was several acres wide
and jammed with stalls and carts bearing goods from all
corners of the world. The air was thick with smoke from
cooking fires and smoking dens as well as flies attrac-
ted by food and animal droppings.
"There," Xena nodded to a row of long buildings
with high windows. "Those are the slave pens. We have
to enter near the far side to be close to the slave
girls' market."
The auction yard was a covered area several
hundred feet wide. The area in front of the pen for
women awaiting auction was crowded with shouting and
whistling men. Xena abandoned any thought of getting
close right now. They could wait until the first round
of bidding ended. By then the first wave of girls bound
for the brothels would be leaving, with a surge of
eager customers behind it.
Xena did stroll past the opposite end of the
auction stand, where last-minute inspections and sub-
sequent haggling was taking place. New owners were
vigorously wiping off makeup used to conceal scars and
blemishes or probing and sniffing genitals for disease,
while the wholesalers dutifully feigned surprise. Milan
gaped as he stared at a roped off area where a masked
stud was systematically deflowering a line of women,
since, by law, virgins could not be sold for prostitu-
tion. Here and there, a bidder whispered to a guard and
passed a handful of coins while a cohort discretely
escorted a girl out of line.
"Why buy when you can just borrow, sweetmeat?"
Milan turned to his side to see a woman in dark robes.
She pulled aside the hem to reveal one of her long legs
and her dusky bush. She opened her robe farther and
revealed bare breasts the size of melons. "Only a day's
wage, and you don't have to take care of me after-
wards."
She pressed her case by running her hands up
his legs as she grinned lasciviously. She gave him a
playful squeeze and whispered an offer in his ear.
Xena's hand shot between them and drew the working
prostitute into a swift backhand slap. The harlot fell
heavily on her ass, dropping Milan's coin pouch on im-
pact. She glared at Xena, then bolted off.
"If I remember correctly, you told me the prin-
cess was a blonde."
"Just admiring the scenery, mistress." Milan
protested.
"Give me a break, ranger. She had a harelip."
Xena's lying, Milan thought. Even she wasn't
looking at her face.
"The princess and her handmaidens are nowhere
around here. Small wonder. What do we do next?" Milan
asked.
"It looks like I get to visit some old acquain-
tances," she said. The expression on her face told that
the experience would be less than pleasant.
#
"Welcome back, Warrior Princess," greeted the
man in rich, midnight blue robes. He wore his dark hair
long and had a short goatee. A ring of gold adorned his
nose and an elaborate pendant fastened his cloak. "How
long has it been, one month, two . . .?"
"Four years, Senguro," Xena scowled at two body-
guards that towered over her. They smiled warmly and
fingered the hilts of their scimitars.
"That long, eh? Where does the time go? I hope
you've come back to take me up on my dinner invita-
tion."
"Not this time, Soft-Hand," Xena softened her
face and smiled, but her hand was casually resting on
her hip now, near the stiletto. "I came to ask about
the slavers who are selling western women."
"Such information is hard to come by, mis-
tress," Senguro was loosing interest already. "What
makes you think I know anything about it?"
"A gold ring with a bloodstone lozenge set in
it. The mark of a prime charter master for the Assas-
sin's Guild."
Senguro dropped all cordiality and his thugs
promptly gripped the hilts of their weapons. "Who do
not brook invasions of their affairs! I could kill you
now, Xena, and no one would say a word about it!"
"No, you couldn't, Senguro, because you're the
last person who can afford to call the attention of the
Guild Master upon himself. How much have you been hold-
ing back this year, Soft-Hand? Three percent? Ten per-
cent?"
"I would never cross the Guild! No one who's
smart ever does!"
"And I'm the padishah's daughter!" Xena grinned
mockingly.
Senguro waved his guards to stand easy. "You're
going to be the end of me, Xena. All this, for a few
lousy moments in North Haven."
"Most men would kill for that chance, Soft-Hand.
Some have," Xena huffed, but they both knew it wasn't
an idle boast.
"I know," Senguro said pleasantly. So what is
it you require? The name attached to a poisoned blade?
A head to ease a grieving widow's heart?"
"A girl, Senguro. A Dunwich maiden with hair
like gold and elfish eyes. She probably was here within
the last few days."
"The Guild Master left two days ago for the open
sea. He sails back here through the Spindrift Isles,
then departs for the east at the new moon."
"You're sure of this?"
"Have I ever told you wrong? I didn't think so.
I accept your apology, milady, and you can join me for
that dinner to express your gratitude."
"Looks like we part on bad terms again, Sen-
guro. You'll have to stick to whatever nobleman's
daughter you're sleeping with these days."
"Not the same, I'm afraid," he grinned as he
faded into the shadow, bodygaurds in tow.
"Don't tell me that he. . ." Milan said with a
trifle of jealousy.
"You believe everything you hear, Milan. That's
your problem."
"Can we trust him?"
"No, but he hates the Guild more than anything
else. It was his worst mistake, and there's no way out
once you've stepped in. He never could think ahead very
far."
#
The mercenary vessel, the Nightshade, made good
time through the Straits of Colchos and headed for the
open sea. They could make Spindrift Sound by nightfall
of the following day, just in time to catch the Guild
slaver as she navigated the reefs around the islands.
The assassins would have to hug the outward side of the
reef since the beasts prowling the open water were too
dangerous and the Duke of Karmanka had a fleet guarding
the shoreline.
#
They had just sighted the islands when the sun
seemed to fade from the sky. Everyone was struck with
horror by the sinister pall of fog that was rolling
across the islands, and soon its tendrils floated to-
wards the ship.
"Avast!" bellowed Captain Morgantheau, a veteran
of seven wars on the Blood Sea and retainer to the Dun-
wich navy. "Lookouts on the bow! Watch for reefs!" A
lot of good that would do. By the time shallow water
was spotted, they'd be on top of the reef.
"What kind of fog is this, Captain?" Milan's
teeth chattered as the mist closed around the ship. The
temperature had dropping severely.
"Devil's fog, boy," he spat into the steam ris-
ing off the water. "These parts never see mist during
the day."
"Sorcery," Xena agreed. She shrugged her cloak
aside, heedless of the fog, her blades standing ready.
They all noticed the island at the same time. At first,
they thought they had been caught by some land-bound
current, but a glance convinced them that they were
holding their course. The island was bearing down on
them, pushing a wall of water several yards high. The
crew cried out in dismay as a huge boulder crested near
them, which split open to reveal a cavernous maw that
carried the reek of centuries from all the oceans of
the world. The Nightshade was broken in half, pieces
of her hull swirling in the monstrous wave. Xena looked
on in horror as Milan was tossed into the air by the
heaving deck and plowed under the waves.
"Get to the forecastle, mistress!" Captain Mor-
gantheau shoved Xena up the ladder to the front of the
ship. She had just grabbed the rail for support when
the deck collapsed under Morgantheau's feet. He soon
joined the rest of the hapless crew in the monstrous
hydraulics that sucked the broken ship down.
Xena found a handhold on the lip of the zara-
ten's barnacle encrusted jaws, her feet skidding along
the water that surged past her. She felt a rough, cold
hand seize her around the wrist and haul her clear. She
was carried to the top of the crag and cast down at the
feet of a band of buccaneers.
"Behold - Xena: Warrior Princess," scoffed Hafez
Makhi. His grin was the last thing she saw before the
butt of a spear put the lights out.
CONTINUED IN PART 5...