Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents

The Quest
Part 1 of 8
 

by Shasa Jin Umi & Nessa
February 22nd, 2002~~August 24th, 2003

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DISCLAIMERS: Xena, Gabrielle, et. al. belong to MCA/Universal/Renaissance. This is a not-for profit fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.


(Introduction of The Quest, by Shasa) --

Shasa was born on the Nile in the land of the Pharaohs, although neither of her parents were Egyptian. Her mother was a striking mixture of both Gaelic and Asian decent, but her father was never quite sure what he was…so he declared himself a son of the Celtic lands and left it at that. Not that it mattered. She never really thought she looked like either one of them. She was green eyed with a red mane, average in height for a woman, and deceptively soft looking. Her curvy figure was a lovely wrapping for an extremely strong body hidden underneath. I tell you this to warn you of underestimating her. She is more than she seems.

Shasa was raised in a loving family, and had a fairly bright childhood. Her father was her world, and because she didn’t see the mariner often, she longed to gain the skills necessary to be by his side. So, unknown to her mother, she began to observe the boys of the village and emulate them. She learned quickly from the sidelines, and occasionally blossomed under the direct instruction of a kind heart. She was set on becoming just as good a seaman, as any one of the boys around her. She even learned the arts of the sword, knowing that mutiny was indeed a fact of marine life. She wanted to make sure there were no excuses that her father could use to deny her the right to accompany him, and later to take his place on the seas.

When Shasa became a young woman, she knew that the time had come to prove herself to her father. She stowed away on his ship when he departed for a very long trip. By the time she was discovered, her father could not justify the time it would take to return her to their homeland, and to her delight, she spent the trip showing her father that indeed she could handle herself. She was not only as good a seaman as the remainder of his crew, but she far surpassed them. She was brutal in her demand for obedience and loyalty from her father’s crew, and had the fighting skills to enforce that demand. Soon, she rose to stand by her fathers side, not because of their common blood, but because she had earned the right.

Her life at sea changed one extraordinary day. Her father had ordered her to lead a small landing party to negotiate a trade while he and the rest of the crew made some minor repairs to some damage the ship had sustained after a storm the previous evening. She took pride in the captain’s orders, because it meant that he trusted her to honor his name amongst his peers. When she departed her father gave her his crest, and with that symbol, he gave his blessing. Shasa vowed to herself that she would return to her father with honor, furnishing him with a trade that would cement her place by his side.

After the negotiation, she returned with her small crew, sure that her captain would be astonished with what she had accomplished. But what she found instead was a dead ship. Her crew slaughtered, and her captain dismembered. A handful of men clung to life, and told of a female pirate that had decimated them. Not for money or for goods, but merely for fun.

Shasa was lost in her grief. Her father, her world, had been viciously torn from her, for nothing. The young woman who had worked so hard to learn the ways of the sea and the mariner, the daughter that longed to honor her father, was now alone on foreign shores with a dozen men, a ghost ship, and a broken heart.

She made sure that the men that survived the massacre were assigned to serve on other ships that would eventually return them to their families, but then she abandoned all but her sorrow, selling the ship and the memories that went with it. She could not face her mother, and knew that she wouldn’t be able to withstand her grief if she had to endure being on a ship for the return trip. So, she sent a farewell message to her mother with a trusted crewman, and disappeared into the foreign land.

Grief gave way to anger, and anger eventually turned to an overwhelming need for vengeance. Finding the pirate woman became her new mission, and Shasa soon put her skills towards the task. She discovered the woman was a Greek warrior that had become bored with the pillaging of her own homeland, so had taken to the sea for a new adventure. It seemed that the warrior had no conscience, no ability to see beyond her own desires, nor cared to see the devastation that she left in her wake.

Shasa vowed to change that.  She would make sure the warrior understood what had been taken from her.

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(Part 1 of The Quest- by Shasa) --

She closed her eyes and reveled in the wind. Stretching her arms out to the sides, she felt its joyous embrace as the long sleeves of her blouse billowed freely. The salty kiss of the sea teased her lovingly, and the scents settled her soul with their familiarity.

“Shasa! I’d be needing you now!” The booming voice invaded her moment of tranquility, and she looked down to see the speck that was her father waving at her. Shasa grinned as she took in his distinguished form, and returned his wave before beginning her descent.

“Marishta! Take the nest!”

“Aye, Captain!”

Shasa mounted the stairs of the upper deck and stood next to the burly man that commanded all—not with fear, but with respect. “Skipper?”

Piercing green eyes met, and the Captain indulged himself for the briefest of moments in the overwhelming pride he felt for his child. There she stood beside him, a beautiful woman having earned her place as first mate through an iron will, strength of body, and a blade that was as sharp as her mind. The infectious smile that accompanied these thoughts spread from father to daughter.

Suddenly, Shasa was grabbed by her Captain’s strong arm…but where it should join at the shoulder, was only a bloody stump! Shasa stared horrified, then saw her father’s smiling head roll across the deck and smack soundly against her boot! His smile of pride slowly faded, as an accusing stare replaced it. “Why have you not avenged me?” He bellowed.

Shasa screamed.

Sweat drenched her body, and the sheet she lay on clung to her as she bolted upright. Shasa spun around in confusion, taking in the darkened room of evening. Shoppe bags were strewn about with unopened boxes littering the floor. It took a moment for her to realize that she was no longer on the Suire, but safely in her rented room at the Lodge.

Shasa sank boneless to the floor, shivering violently. Head clenched tightly between her palms, she tried to push the images of her nightmare out of her mind; yet the harder she tried, the louder the condemnation rang. Minutes seemed like hours as she fought a lone battle with her memories.

When Shasa stood, it was with clarity. She had been drawn into this titillating den of iniquity and had lost her path, but she knew her quest would never be over, she could never have her own happiness, until the murdering pirate was dead. Shasa set her jaw with determination, and again opened her heart to the anger that had consumed her for a decade.

Opening her pack, she pulled out heavy leathers and dressed quickly. Mechanical motions strapped short-sword to hip, and placed daggers in boots. Her hands grasped the sheath of a broadsword, and she strapped it to her back before drawing the blade and turning to the window.

The moon hung brilliantly over the mirrored lake. Green orbs searched the Lady for her blessing, and then Shasa made her vows in native tongue before the shimmering blade of her father. “Sgiobair beannaich seo claid mor, claid caol, sgians, agus ursan-hatha cho mi ri coilion mo dleas ainfhiach agus leag a’ Foghmhorachd fear-cogaid ann a uaigh." ("Skipper, bless this broadsword, short-sword, daggers and quarterstaff as I fulfill my quest, and lay the pirate warrior in her grave.")

Shasa slowly sheathed the blade and looked around the room. She felt a yearning to remain. “I can’t have this.” She whispered. “Not yet.”

Silently, Shasa slipped out of the Lodge and made her way to the stable.

Kirsa nickered as the familiar smell of her friend and master approached her on the light breeze of evening. Shasa’s sharp eyes noted the well-groomed coat, and her sad smile acknowledged the fact that she had one more thing indebting her to Lord Nessa. She laid her head on the strong neck of her faithful companion, and took a moment to whisper apologies to the noble beast for her neglect.

Meika took that moment to stir from a deep sleep in the corner of Kirsa’s stall, and greet the inattentive Warrior. Shasa cringed at the sight of the red ribbon adornment, and the failed attempts at decorating the tail of the shorthaired dog. She crouched down to lovingly pet the energetic youngster and remove the atrocities. “Do I even want to know what the Hades happened to you?” Meika wagged her tail in oblivion.

Shasa sighed. Enough delaying. Practiced hands made quick work of saddling and bridling the mare, then lashed her well-worn quarterstaff to the saddle. A final check, and she was ready.

Ness~

You know my heart, and know that I must finish what I began long ago. Until it is done, I cannot find peace. He haunts me still, and something in my soul is pulling me…I know not what. Perhaps it is my dear Sgiobair, perhaps it is my guilt…but whatever it is, I feel like I am closer to that murdering bitch than I have ever been before. This time, I will find her; I am sure of it.

Whether or not I will live to return to you, I do not know…so I must tell you these things now. I love you, my dearest friend, and I am happy that you have found your peace among kindred spirits. Your Tris…continue to be patient with her; I’m confident that her love for you is strong, and she will return in time. As for us…you need no words, nor assurances, nor platitudes. If the gods allow, nothing will stop me from returning to embrace my Ness.

Do me a favor and thank Killian for attending to my room. I’m afraid I left a bit of a mess for her to deal with. The pouch is also for her; it should be more than enough to cover both my bill at the Lodge and to pay Ikarias.

Don’t forget me.

~Shasa

Black leather groaned its protest as the Warrior mounted the mare. Turning as one, they made their way into the night, and were enveloped into its embrace. The only mark of their passage was a prancing yellow lab.

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(Shasa) --

“That will do nicely.” Shasa took the heavy fur from the vendor, and paid him thrice its worth.

Gnarled fingers, broken and poorly reset, felt the heft of the pouch and protested. “But, child! You’ve given me too much!"

Shasa refused the excess money offered to her by the blind man. He had given her a fair price, and his honest approach had touched her heart. It was rare to see integrity prevail in times of hardship. Rarer still was to have the means to reward it.

She smiled warmly, her unseen eyes glistening with unshed tears. She reached out gently, taking his forearm within her own strong hands, and folded the extended limb back against his own chest. Course hairs covered the dark, weatherworn skin. “Keep it, sir. It would please me very much if you did.”

Empty eyes seemed to weigh and take in the sincerity of the words. Then he simply nodded and accepted the act of charity for what it was. “Thank you, miss.” He held the coins up, a humble smile gracing his kindly face.

“You are the one deserving of gratitude, sir. It has been quite cold in the evenings, and this will no doubt keep me warm.” Shasa turned as if to go, then paused and turned back. “Perhaps you could help me with another of my problems?”

“What else are you in need of, child?”

“I’m looking for someone, and can’t seem to track her down. Her name is Xena. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

He chuckled. “Around these parts? Who hasn’t heard of her?” He paused as his inquisitive nature emerged, and scratched his chin beneath the scraggly, graying beard. “You aren’t an Amazon, and you certainly aren’t a warrior. Neither have any manners, and you can smell ‘em a mile away.” He whispered conspiratorially, “You in trouble, or are you somebody she helped out?”

Shasa leaned in closely and said with all earnestness, “She’s changed so many lives, my dear friend, and I want to repay her—not only for myself, but also for those who can’t do it themselves.”

The gentle man patted Shasa’s arm and nodded. “Well, child, I’m glad to hear that you aren’t in any trouble. Xena and Gabrielle, that sweet bard she travels with, passed through here a couple days ago on their way to visit Xena’s momma in Amphipolis.” A smile suddenly lit his face. “Gabrielle told some new stories at the tavern; she’s got quite the gift, that one. They should be in Amphipolis ‘bout now, I should think.”

Shasa smiled and straightened. “Thank you for your help, sir. I’ve enjoyed talking with you.” Shasa looked beyond the man to the small handcart that contained his life. “Could I impose upon you for one final favor?”

The older man laughed—a delightful sound to any discerning ear. “Impose? You’re hardly an imposition. More like a rare pleasure, you are. Name your favor, child, and I’ll do my best to grant it.”

“Then walk with me to the best inn Neapolis has to offer. I’ve not been in your city before, and don’t know which way to go. You will, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, I know just the place. Marta serves the best food in the whole city.”

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed instantly. “Oh, you are a dear! Now, it must have not only the best food, but decent rooms as well.”

“That it does, child.”

The woman and man, equally but differently damaged, slowly made their way through the streets of the village, pulling together the cart that held the man’s treasures, and talking away as if they were the best of friends.

The man fondly reminisced about his days spent at sea to the girl who gave him her rapt attention. He told tall tales of legends and kings, pirates and gods. He told of battles, and shipmates. He told of loves lost, and lives lost. They laughed together and cried together as he shared all that he had—his very life.

Hours later, after a feast of venison stew and honey cakes, Shasa excused herself from the table, telling the older man that he couldn’t leave until she returned. He didn’t realize the girl had left the inn, until the plump hand of his friend, the kindly innkeeper, held his own.

Marta told him that he was to be her honored guest for the next two weeks. He was to have hot meals, baths, and the best room she had. When he asked why, Marta responded, “Well, I’m not sure, Marishta. But that warrior woman told me to tell you that her Sgiobair would have wanted it that way.”

Marishta sat in stunned silence for several moments. Then his eyes filled with tears, and the blind man saw.

   (Shasa)

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(Part 4, by Nessa) --

Nessa closed the door of her chambers quietly as she stepped into the corridor. Just as she turned to make her way down the hall, the dragon Warrior appeared as if from nowhere. The Celt jumped back and reached for her sword. She exhaled in relief when she saw the face of the smirking half-dragon. "Blast the heart of Hera Ikarias! Let a body know when yer coming''!"

"Hrrrummft" Ikarias stood as tall as the Celt. Her arms were folded in front of her. "Seems like you’re out of practice with your skills of detection Warrior. If I'd been an enemy you wouldn't be alive to complain!"

Nessa grasped the truth of the statement and grinned. "Ye know you’re right Iky. I seem to be counting on the likes of you to be there instead of an enemy these days." The two grasped arms, hand to elbow in the classic Warrior salute. "What brings you to my door friend?"

Ikarias stood back. She raised an eyebrow and spoke. "I just thought you might want to know... your friend Shasa lit outa here this morning while it was still dark. I saw her at the stable from my window. She didn't seem to be crazy about anybody knowing she was leaving." Ikarias watched Nessa's gray eyes flicker from curiosity to concern.

After thanking Ikarias, Nessa took the stairs at breakneck speed. She headed for the stables. She wasn't even sure what she might be looking for. Maybe some sign of a direction the impetuous sailor might have taken. She thought it untimely that Xena was away visiting Amphipolis. She could have asked the Warrior Princess for aid in tracking the lass. Nessa had no intention of letting her friend go without a word. She would find her.

Tuttle was pawing at the ground when Nessa reached her stall. The Mare tossed her head toward the wall where the lord's saddlebags hung. Nessa pulled the leather flap open and reached inside. It was a piece of parchment with Shasa's script written in dark ink. Nessa opened it out and read:

Ness~

You know my heart, and know that I must finish what I began long ago. Until it is done, I cannot find peace. He haunts me still, and something in my soul is pulling me…I know not what. Perhaps it is my dear Sgiobair, perhaps it is my guilt…but whatever it is, I feel like I am closer to that murdering bitch than I have ever been before. This time, I will find her; I am sure of it.

Whether or not I will live to return to you, I do not know…so I must tell you these things now. I love you, my dearest friend, and I am happy that you have found your peace among kindred spirits. Your Tris…continue to be patient with her; I’m confident that her love for you is strong, and she will return in time. As for us…you need no words, nor assurances, nor platitudes. If the gods allow, nothing will stop me from returning to embrace my Ness.

Don’t forget me.

"Forget ye? I'll not be forgetting ye lass, I'll be finding you" Nessa whispered under her breath. She understood Shasa's need to find the one who murdered her father. More than one night of rocking the tormented lass back to sleep after a nightmare gave the lord reason to know the intensity of Shasa's need for vengeance. Nessa determined to help her end this bloody interference of a happy life, or bring her back home to work it out in her heart. Either way... The Warrior would not allow her friend to do it alone.

She headed back to the Lodge to prepare some things and to give the Kindred word of what she was doing. This was home and this was family. Shasa would know it too.

   (Nessa)

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(Shasa) --

Shasa walked briskly to the stable and checked on the condition of Kirsa and Meika. Satisfied, she paid the stable boy well, and thanked him for his extra care by giving him the heavy fur she had purchased earlier that evening. Then mounting the mare, she turned in the direction of Amphipolis and rode into the night.

Riding the steady, rolling rhythm of full gallop, surrounded by darkness, and in desperate need of sleep, the vulnerable Shasa fell prey to her stalking memories. She succumbed without fight—for at the moment, there was none left in her—and let the tears flow freely.

She had been completely useless from the moment she stepped foot on the Suire and saw her Sgiobair. She had stood frozen, then abruptly started to gather her father’s remains, placing them together…trying to make him whole again.

The sailor’s, who had returned with her, had tried to stop her. Some had tried to put her back into the Eathar, while others tried to comfort her. She shook both off, and searched the body-littered deck for…parts…of her dear father. One by one, the men left the traumatized first mate to her rummaging, and searched for survivors.

They found only a handful, and most of them were praying for death. Some of them found their prayers answered, others were not so fortunate. Marishta was the unluckiest of all.

Marishta had been such a fine specimen of masculine beauty. He was half a head taller than most, with wide shoulders, broad chest, and small waist. Long and powerful legs supported and completed his frame. His favorite way to relax had always been Shasa’s way, and they often stood silently together under the stars, on the bow of the Suire. Their long hair whipping in the wind, his as black as the night, tangled together as they drank in the beauty surrounding them.

They found his naked body, limply draped over a crate in the lower storage areas. Strong fingers were crushed. His back had been shredded, and he had obviously been forcibly and repeatedly taken from behind. When his mates had carefully lifted him and turned him over, they saw what had to have been the worst of the torture. Eyes that were once the color of the sea he so loved were now empty shells.

A sign hung round his neck. “Conquered.”

Shasa clamped her lips together, as the bile suddenly came from her belly and demanded release. She pulled Kirsa abruptly to a stop, and fell to the ground, vomiting the remains of her dinner. Dry heaves followed, and the tear stained face lost all color.

Then the shaking began.

Shasa wept. Her heart ached within her chest. When would this end? She felt so empty and alone in her grief. Even Marishta, whose body had been tortured, degraded, and forever changed, had found peace. Why could she not find hers?

She struggled to her feet and placed her hands on the saddle horn while she caught her breath and tried to regain her composure. She mounted the mare and spurred her on again.

Her fatigue left her as her mind examined the questions. How did Marishta find peace? Surely he was tormented with the same memories and nightmares! In fact, his must have been much worse. After all, he was there. He experienced the cruelty of Xena first hand. He saw his mates brutalized, he heard the screams, and he lived it.

Shasa brow furrowed in thought, then released, as potential answers were conceived and examined. Time slipped by, and so did the landscape, as Shasa looked within; exposing truths she’d never before allowed herself to explore.

She had only imagined what it must have been like on the Suire. She had created and recreated it in her mind, until it had become real to her. She had done this to give herself something to hold on to, something to strike out against, something to hate. And if she had done that…had she also created the condemning voice of her father?

Shasa’s mind came to an abrupt halt, though her body continued to move fluidly astride the powerful beast. Why would she create the visions that tortured her for a decade now? Shasa scoffed. Surely she wouldn’t! What purpose would it have served?

Shasa’s eyes wandered, as did her thoughts. She found herself focusing on the dim outlines of the forest on either side of the deserted road. Trees and bushes. But were the shadows really trees and bushes? Or was her mind interpreting the shapes and creating the most likely explanation, based on experience? Wasn’t she simply accepting it as truth, without proof? And if she was, why was she doing it at all? Shasa laughed nervously. It was obviously for comfort, to fend off fear of the unknown. If the shadows were not benign foliage, than they were potentially treacherous enemies. And who wanted to fear an unseen enemy every time they turned around?

But that is just what she had done, hadn’t she? She had accepted that single experience of evil as her truth. She had allowed the shadows in her life to instantly become foes. She was the conquered one. Marishta had overcome.

She had turned from a life she loved, from a freedom she felt deep within her soul, and instead, given in to the shackles of fear. She had imprisoned herself with a lust for vengeance, because it was easier than facing her true jailer.

It wasn’t Xena after all.

Apollo had not yet appeared on the horizon, but had sent a beautiful array of color to announce his coming. Hues of the rose spread in tendrils across the sky. The dark shadows of the forest yielded to the approaching god, and lightened their mood out of respect.

Shasa reigned Kirsa in, and they slowed to a walk. Misty green eyes watched the forest emerge. Trees and bushes greeted the dawn of a new day.

   (Shasa)

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Part 2 (of 8) - 'The Quest'

Shasa Jin Umi Index // Nessa's Index

Main Library Stories

Lodge Entrance