Kael scowled. Then she stepped away from the table and relaxed her body in conscious imitation of her mentor. She stared at the vase, concentrating her mental effort, willing the glass to shatter as it had for Lao Ma.

It sat there, staring impudently at her, refusing to so much as tremble.

If vases could laugh, this one would be doing so.

Lao Ma, under no such constraints, laughed lightly, the sound muffled by her hand over her mouth.

Kael scowled again, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. “What’s so funny,” she ground out.

“This exercise is about losing your will, Kael, not about using it as a battering ram.”

“Well what in the hell else am I supposed to do? Try a sneak attack??”

“Exactly!” Lao Ma exclaimed.

“Huh?”

“Kael, breaking the vase is not the goal for you.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. That is merely a side effect of sublimating your will and purifying your thoughts. It is the energy you need, not what it can destroy. The vase is just an object to let you know the energy is there.”

Kael rubbed her forehead, trying to take it all in. “So, in other words, the end point is the reception of the energy, not the destruction of the vase.”

The smaller woman’s smile broadened. “Perfectly stated.”

“And how do I get this energy? If the world is driven by a will, how do I lose mine?”

Walking over to join the tall American, Lao Ma laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Don’t try so hard. Here. Close your eyes.”

Kael closed her eyes, feeling the warm touch of Lao Ma’s small hand on her arm and smiling a bit. “What next?”

“Bring a vision into your mind, one, preferably non-violent, that makes you feel at peace with yourself. Do you have one of those?”

Kael frowned, but, surprisingly, the requested vision came easily. It was the beginning of her kiss with Lao Ma. At the moment when their lips touched and she felt energized …cleansed. It was, in her mind, the perfect moment. A slow smile spread her lips. “Yeah. I got one.”

“Good. Now, let that vision, and the feelings it evokes within, fill you, pushing everything else away. Become its vessel. Feel as it starts from the tips of your toes and travels through your body, filling you with that sense of peace. Can you do this?”

Nodding slightly, Kael concentrated on doing as she was asked, allowing the memory of that perfect kiss filter throughout her body, soothing her hurts, blunting her dark desires, curbing her will. It felt, almost, like a cocaine high, but without the chemical hangover. The energy she felt filling her up was intense, yet utterly pure and peaceful. “Yes,” she whispered, becoming a willing vessel to it.

“Open your eyes.”

Arctic blue eyes opened, gaze pinned, unconsciously, to the table.

The glass didn’t just shatter.

It exploded.

Billions of tiny fragments, the majority too small to be seen with the naked eye, blew outward from their source, only by some miracle missing the two women who where standing, utterly shocked, not three feet from the table.

“Did I just do that?” Kael asked, her voice full of wonder.

“Indeed you did,” Lao Ma returned, awed beyond belief. In all her years of studying and teaching, she had never seen a demonstration that even came close to the one she just witnessed. “What sort of vision would cause that much power?” she mused, hardly aware she was speaking aloud.

The American, however, with her highly sensitized hearing, caught every softly uttered word. “This,” she said simply, turning and tilting Lao Ma’s chin up, then lowering her own dark head until their lips once again met and merged.

The energy each woman had summoned was still within them both. It joined together through the power of their kiss, arcing back and forth in a never-ending loop, feeding in upon itself and growing stronger until it was all that existed.

The kiss deepened, each woman drawing within themselves the power of the other until it seemed one perfect being stood where two had been before.

Kael’s legs, which had pained her from the day they were shot out from under her in Iraq, straightened and grew strong again. Old hurts, swollen like abscesses in her soul, seemed to shrink and shrivel away to nothing. Things she’d done wrong, people she’d failed, people who’d failed her. All lost their importance when compared to this vast well of utter purity which was consuming her, cleansing her, healing her.

She opened her eyes and looked down into the surreal glow that was the face of the woman she realized she loved. Reaching slowly down, she untied the belt of Lao Ma’s robes, slipping warm hands inside to touch the silk of her skin.

And was lost; taken up in rapture the likes of which she’d never known.

To Be Continued…

DESERT STORM

Part 9

by: SwordnQuill

SwordnQuil@aol.com

Disclaimers: The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, Lao Ma, Alti, Borias, and everyone else who sounds familiar belong to Pac Ren and Universal Studios. I am not making money off of this story.

Genre Disclaimer: Ok. Bear with me, please, because this is kinda tough to explain. Sometime last year, I read a story on the internet that moved me so much, I was inspired to write a sort of companion piece to it. That story was “Lost Soul Walking” by DJWP. In her words, “This is NOT UberXena fiction. It just starts out like it is.” The same can be said for this piece. While not directly related to “Lost Soul Walking”, “Desert Storm” can be considered a sort of prequel to it. It is a story, if you will, about the lifetime before the one depicted in that fabulous, outstanding story. (Can you tell I loved it?) In addition, this is somewhat of an ambitious piece of fiction, in that I am attempting (don’t know if I’ve succeeded, but I’ve attempted) to take the entire X:WP universe and modernize it. We start, in updated terms, with my version of Xena’s betrayal by Caesar (seen in “Destiny”), and continue up through the X:WP episode known as “Remember Nothing”. The plot will be very recognizable to you. It’s meant to be that way.

Special note: Because of this, Gabrielle does not appear, except in offhand mention, in a great deal of the first half of this story. Do not look for her, because you won’t find her. After all, she was not a part of ‘evil Xena’s’ life. If she were, things might have turned out differently, but because this is based on the premise of “Lost Soul Walking” it cannot happen differently. Gabrielle will, however, make her presence known, and that quite strongly, in the second half of the story. If you can hang on till then, I believe that you will not be disappointed.

Sexuality and Violence Disclaimers: We’re dealing with an updated dark Xena through much of the first half, and an updated redeemed Xena through the second. There’s gonna be violence. There are gonna be naughty words. There are also descriptions of sexual activity in this work. There are allusions to heterosexual sex, but nothing graphic. There are some graphic (though I hope tasteful) scenes of sexual expression between women as well. That is how I see the relationship between Xena and Gabrielle, and that is how I will continue to write it.

And, finally, thanks: To, as always, the incomparable Mike. A better beta and a better friend one could never hope for. Thank you also, as always, to Mary D, who rescued this story from the refuse heap and begged me to keep going on it. If you hate it, blame her. <w> Grateful and heartfelt appreciation goes out to DJWP, for continuing to write stories that grab me somewhere above the liver and giving her kind permission to mention her story in these disclaimers. If you haven’t read her stories, please, do yourself a favor and do so. Finally, this story is dedicated to a group of people without whom I would most probably be living on the streets. Elizabeth, Rachel, Sulli, and the rest of the “Get Sue to Atlanta” crew, this one’s for you!

Feedback: As always is gratefully appreciated. If you wrote to me regarding “Redemption” during the month of September to early October and I haven’t responded, please allow me the honor of apologizing in public. It was then that I was at my lowest point and making ready to move to my new home. Your words of praise and encouragement for my writing kept me firmly out of the pit of depression I was falling into and I shall be forever grateful to each and every one of you who took the time out to feed this bard. And for those of you patiently (or not so patiently) waiting for Redemption’s sequel, fear not, for with the conclusion of this piece, that piece will be started. Any and all who wish to may write me at SwordnQuil@aol.com . I’ll continue to do my best to answer each and every email. An exploding mailbox is a good thing to have. Thanks again!

DESERT STORM

by: Sword’n’Quill (Susanne Beck)

20 June 1991. Just before midnight. Lao Ma’s House. Chengdu, China.

Standing outside the red and gold painted door to the Pleasure House, Geraldo ran a nervous hand through his thick hair before straightening his tie. He groaned inwardly at his nervousness, feeling more like a teenager with his first woman than a fully grown man coming to get what was rightfully his.

That’s probably not the best way to think about this, he thought to himself, wiping sweaty palms on his dark pants. You’ll be lucky enough if she doesn’t kill you on sight. You betrayed her. She’ll never forgive that.

Because she acted foolishly! another part of him insisted. She almost ruined the deal. Would have, if you hadn’t turned her in.

Ruined deal or not, you found out, this last month, exactly what is more important to you. Face it, Geraldo, she’s right. You have gone soft. You are so in love with the woman that you almost went crazy not having her around all this time. The minute you see her, you’ll be down on your knees, begging for forgiveness.

Yeah, if she doesn’t kill you first.

That’s a very definite possibility.

His internal conversation, over for the moment, Geraldo took one last deep breath, feeling the surety of being between a rock and a hard place, and raised his hand to knock on the door before him, winging a quick prayer heavenward as he did so.

*******

Gasping for air and covered with a fine patina of sweat, Kael slumped back against the twisted silk sheets, one arm flung up and draped over her eyes. “That was,” she croaked out, ” …inspired.”

“And inspiring,” Lao Ma agreed, coming up to lay beside the beautiful woman who shared her bed. Pillowing her head on one broad shoulder, the smaller woman gently grazed her fingertips over the sweat-sheened skin as she breathed in the scent of their lovemaking with an almost primal pleasure.

“This ‘freeing yourself of desire’ stuff has got some merit,” Kael said, rolling over and enveloping Lao Ma in a warm embrace.

Lao Ma laughed softly, returning the embrace and nuzzling into Kael’s sweet smelling hair. “Not the usual way a true Master teaches this lesson, however.”

Kael’s eyes, still passion-dark, opened slowly. A rakish grin came over her face. “Don’t see why not. It’d pretty much guarantee your students came back for more.”

Any reply Lao Ma might have made was lost as a light tapping came to the door frame.

“Enter.”

A young woman, dressed and painted for the evening, entered the room, keeping her head bowed and her gaze on the floor. “Many pardons for the intrusion, Lao Ma, but there is a man downstairs asking to speak with you. He says that it is very important.”

Lao Ma could feel Kael’s body stiffen behind her. “Was he alone?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Did he give his name?”

“Yes, Ma’am. He said his name was Geraldo Rodriguez.”

The young woman drew back in fear as Kael launched herself from the bed, a soundless snarl on her lips.

“Kael! No!” Lao Ma shouted, also quickly standing.

“Stay out of this, Lao Ma. That bastard’s mine.” Not even bothering to slip a robe on over her naked body, Kael strode toward the door.

“Stop it, Kael! Stop desiring! Stop hating!”

The American whirled, her lips split in a shark’s sneer. “Pretty words, Lao Ma. But that miserable excuse for a scum-sucking pig betrayed me. There isn’t enough philosophy in the world that’s gonna stop me from paying him back.”

“And what will your revenge accomplish, Kael?”

“I’ll make me feel better,” Kael smirked, turning once again.

Her face white beneath the paint, the young messenger jumped out of the enraged American’s way.

Kael had gotten no more than two steps from the room when she was brought down by what felt like a cattle-prod to her spine. Her legs crumpled beneath her, refusing to bear her weight. She fell to the floor in a heap, quickly twisting to glare murderously at Lao Ma, who was standing very calmly beside her.