Sapphic Voices Horror

Chains Of Ice, Chains Of Fire

The storyteller speaks:

And so it came to pass that one day, Xena the Warrior Princess, former warlord and Destroyer of Nations, now peacemaker and beloved of Gabrielle, Queen of the Amazons, was traveling alone. Her bard had gone ahead to marble-girt Athens, and Xena hastened along the lonely road, eager to return to her lover's arms.

Bright Phoebus' chariot scudded across the storm-gray sky more swiftly than the warrior realized, and soon it began to grow dark. As the hoofbeats of her warhorse Argo clopped dully in the dirt trail, Xena began to search for a place to stay her steps for the coming night.

She soon saw a house, rearing proud and alone within a wooded glen, and turned Argo towards the dwelling, hoping to find shelter within. To her surprise, the door opened and no stranger stood upon the threshold; Xena's pale blue eyes were wide with amazement as she beheld an old friend from her war-torn days beckoning her onward with a smile.

It was Diedre, once a captain of wide merit in Xena's army, and although time had placed a few lines upon her once flawless face, her eyes were as deep a brown and her hair as russet an auburn as the warrior remembered. Diedre grinned. "Xena!," she called as the warrior dismounted, "What a surprise! I thought I'd never see YOU again."

Xena returned her friend's smile. "Just passing through on my way to Athens," she replied. "Argo and I need a place to stay the night, and when I saw your house..."

"You thought you'd knock and ask politely for shelter," Diedre interrupted, hands on hips. "What ever happened to the good old days when we just took what we wanted, and to Hades with the rest?"

Xena narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Those days are over for me," she replied. "I'm not a warlord anymore."

"So I heard." Diedre's voice was skeptical, but she shrugged and motioned her friend inside. "I'll take care of the hayburner; you come on in and rest up. Back in a few minutes."

Xena went in, carefully observing everything as Diedre walked outside and took Argo's reins, chirruping at the warhorse and promising oats in abundance as she led the mare to the stable.

The main room was bright and airy, with pretty frescoes that lent brilliance to the plain plastered walls, and a statue of the Huntress Diana of carved alabaster that had place of precedence by a small fountain that bubbled and gurgled cheerfully.

Xena was surprised as she continued through the public areas of the house, eyeing artwork and furniture that had been selected with a connoiseur's eye. It almost seemed as if the house had been subjected to a woman's touch, and the warrior, remembering the Diedre of old, sincerly doubted her former captain capable of such delicately homey touches.

When Diedre returned, she invited Xena to a glass of wine in the peristyle garden behind the house, where a rectangular pool reflected the light of several blazing torches. It was full dark now, and the moon was beginning to rise, joining the stars in their nightly dance around the vault of the heavens.

The two women reiminisced about old battles, old adventures, old loves; afterward, they exchanged news of the present. Even as Xena had changed, so had Diedre. She saluted the warrior with a sloshing goblet and said, "Yes, I got out of the war business; not enough profit to justify the risk. Took my share of the booty and bought a nice little vineyard. That's where I met Livia...My wife."

Xena congratulated Diedre, telling her of her own love and their plans to wed some day. But instead of smiling, Diedre frowned, staring into the swirling lees of her winecup. "Livia is... hopefully in the Elysian Fields," she said. "She died last year."

Xena hastened to commiserate with her old companion. "I'm sorry, Diedre," she said compassionately. "How did it happen?"

Diedre stared at Xena with cold brown eyes. "Does it matter?," she replied harshly, tossing the last mouthful of her wine into the reflecting pool and standing. "Come; let's go to dinner."

Although Xena was eaten up with curiosity as to what could have happened to Diedre's wife, she did not to press unwelcome questions on her friend. The two ate dinner, served by a morose servant in a dining room that swirled with shadows, and afterward there was more wine.

The storyteller speaks:

Now, what the Warrior Princess could not have known was this: That Diedre's wife Livia, once a happy young girl whose heart was pure and light, had taken her own life.

After their marriage, Livia, an innocent to the ways of love, had found herself disquieted by Diedre's strange lusts, and had importuned her spouse to spare her of such things. But Diedre, consumed by passion for her young bride, had forced herself on the girl, causing her to endure vile acts to which no child of Zeus should suffer.

At last, unable to bear Roman debaucheries any longer, Livia took her life, hanging herself in the very room that had witnessed her many humiliations and painful ordeals.

But that was not the end. For it came to pass that the next night, when Diedre sought her bed, and settled down to sink into Morpheus' arms... she discovered was not alone.

Cold hands caressed her flesh; lips reeking of the grave sought her own. Diedre, shrieking, had fled. On several occasions, she had gone back, only to find the same welcome awaiting her. Various servants had also tried and failed, even when threatened with death, to evade the supernatural lover's embrace.

And so Diedre, malice blossoming within her breast, determined to give this very chamber to Xena, anticipating with glee the moment when the proud warrior princess' screams of terror should ring out in the night.

Diedre stuck the lit candle in a blob of its own grease and gestured around the chamber. "It's the best room in the house," she said, indicating the large bed with its hanging tapestry canopies. "I can do no less for such a distinguished guest."

Xena noticed that the room showed signs of neglect; the hearth was filled with cold ash, and dust was scattered thinly across the surfaces of tables. But the bed looked comfortable and warm, heaped with pillows and coverings, and she was tired. "Thank you," she replied. "I'm sure I'll get a good night's sleep."

Diedre smirked, quickly turning her face away from the warrior to compose her features. "I'm sure you will," she said in a somewhat choked voice. Taking hold of herself, she turned back to Xena and continued, "Rest well, my friend. In the morning, I'll give you a hearty breakfast and send you on your way to Athens." With that, Diedre departed, closing the door softly behind her and scurrying to her own chambers, to await the moment when Xena would receive the fright of her life.

Alone, Xena wandered around the room, picking up this and examining that. In a small box on a table she discovered a miniature portrait of a woman, a girl actually, with dark hair and sweet gray eyes. This must be Livia, she thought.

At last, jaw cracking with yawns, the warrior removed her leather armor, blew out the candles and went to bed, clambering up into the feather mattresses and settling down for the night. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around a soft pillow and pretended it was the warm, willing flesh of her beloved bard.

In a few moments, however, this delightful dream was interrupted by a chill finger that wandered down the warrior's spine. Shivering, she gathered the blankets closer to her neck and tried to go back to sleep. Then, the feeling of being embraced in arms as cold as mountain snows made Xena sit bolt upright in bed.

Immediately, icy lips claimed her own, and Xena's dark hair was ruffled by gelid hands. She brought up her own hands, to try and push the cold ones away... and her proud warrior's heart stilled, for she realized that there was nothing, and no one, there.

The storyteller speaks:

Although her soul was not fully cleansed of her darkest deeds, yet Xena, greatest warrior in the land, knew not fear, for her heart had been cleansed of its former evil.

Long into the night, she held silent converse with the unseen spirit, learning much that the wicked Diedre had kept from her. And while the moon was still high, and before the rosy fingers of pale dawn touched the sky, the mighty warrior princess knew what she must do.

She did not shrink from the deed, but embraced it wholeheartedly, for her purpose was clear: Diedre must not go unpunished, and the unfortunate Livia must be revenged.

The next morning, a sullen Diedre greeted a smiling Xena over the breakfast table. Diedre had waited... and waited... in an agony of impatience for much of the night, finally falling asleep through sheer exhaustion. She had been sorely disappointed, and wondered what had happened in the haunted chamber.

"Did you have a restful night?," Diedre asked, peering at her friend narrowly.

Xena smiled enigmatically. "Not really," she replied, helping herself to a hearty portion of bread and honey.

"Oh?" Diedre's dark russet brows rose. "Something disturbed you?"

Xena peered thoughtfully into the distance, absently biting into a chunk of bread and chewing. After she swallowed, she said, "You know, you might have told me the room was haunted."

Diedre, who had taken a drink of ale, choked on the mouthfull and had to be pounded enthusiastically on the back before she recovered. "I...," she began shakily, then took a deep breath and continued. "It's Livia, my late wife. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I hoped the haunting was over. I don't sleep there anymore myself."

Xena calmly bit into a boiled hen's egg. "Well, no matter," she said. "I found the experience quite... different. But pleasurable all the same."

Diedre could scarcely believe what she heard. "Livia was so cold to me when we were married," she lied. "She hated sex, frankly. I tried to be sensitive, but... And then she hung herself, right there in the bedchamber; I think she must have been mad. I tried sleeping there a few times afterwards, but gods! Livia's ghost is colder to me now than she ever was in life."

Xena gazed at her friend with ice-blue eyes. "I didn't have that problem," she replied.

"Really?" Diedre licked her lips. "What happened? What did you do?"

Xena gave her a slight, chilling smile. "I have MANY skills," she said, dusting her hands free of crumbs. "I think you'll find Livia has changed... Remember, Diedre, you always did tell me I was a hot blooded lover." She shot the other woman a highly significant look.

Diedre gasped, pressing a hand to her suddenly pounding heart.

The storyteller speaks:

Diedre believed her wife's spirit had been changed by Xena's skills, and with indecent haste saw her friend off, scarcely polite and making her goodbyes hurridly.

Then the wicked woman scurried to the bedchamber that had been the scene of her own fears, juices flowing hot and fast as she anticipated a day of pleasurable bliss. She would be able to indulge in her vile habits without fear of discovery; no longer need she hold back and control her lusts, for Livia's spirit could not be harmed in this earthly realm.

She entered the chamber, removing her clothing with shaking hands, and leaped into the bed, arms open eagerly.

In a few moments, Diedre's brown eyes closed as warm lips pressed against her neck... a tongue as soft as wet velvet trailed across her lips... caressing fingers that grew hotter and hotter still sought her secret places...

In a heartbeat, her eyes flew open and she began to struggle against the hands that held her so implacably. And soon after, she began to scream.

For the flesh that had once dripped with ice, the breath that had once reeked of chill death, the mouth and hands that had once wrapped her in a frost fettered embrace had changed...

Xena, with a lover's skillful touch and an exquisite sense of justice, had transformed Livia's rime frost into a blazing inferno.

And Diedre found her chains of ice had become chains of fire.

Xena stopped Argo with a touch of her heel and sat quietly on the trail, head cocked to one side.

The faint, shrieking wail she heard could have been the wind... Or it could have been the screams of a woman being burned alive.

Face expressionless, the warrior princess turned Argo's nose back towards Athens, and continued her journey.

THE END

If you have enjoyed Bardwynna's "Chains Of Ice, Chains Of Fire", then please be certain to e-mail her at  Wynna1[at]yahoo.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

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