Date: Fri, 6 Oct 1995 08:34:50 -0400 Reply-To: GrinnyP@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Carol Ann Liddiard Subject: "Origins" Chapter 13, part 2 . . . and the rest of chapter 13 . . . ---------------------- France, @600 AD "I don't like this." Methos smiled faintly at Carol's disgruntled tone. "Then you shouldn't have insisted on coming here right now." "You know what I mean, Adam," she replied, pacing furiously. "I have to be here, but you don't. That damn army laying siege to the city is led by two powerful immortals, and I don't think they'll ignore you once they sense you. I shouldn't have let you come with me." He merely raised an eyebrow at the last statement. "You think you could have stopped me?" "Hell, Adam, you're not taking this seriously. This is not a good place for you to be right now." "And it's a good place for you?" She stopped pacing and glared at him in frustration. "I _have_ to be here! You don't!" she repeated. "I can mask your presence to a point, but if either one of them gets close enough, they'll feel you." He sighed as she resumed her angry marching. "I wish you would stop treating me this way." "What way?" she asked distractedly. "Like a child. I _chose_ to accompany you here, and I can fight my own battles, if necessary." He sighed again as he tracked her movements back and forth across the room. Trying another tack, he said, "And what about you? Did you have to see him now?" Carol stopped and stared blindly out the window, in the direction of the city that was her final destination. "Yes," she muttered quietly. "They are all gone now, it is time." They shared a look of mutual understanding. Methos knew that this day would come, when she would seek out the priest of the city of the Parisii, just as he knew he wanted to be at her side when she did. He tried one last time, in vain. "You know what'll happen to you if they sack the city?" "Hah!" she exclaimed derisively. "Those stupid mortals won't be able to catch me, if they even make it into the city. I'm more worried about their leaders. And you." Whatever tirade Carol was about to launch into was cut off as she paled and recoiled from the window. Methos caught her before she could fall and watched in astonishment as a lightning storm erupted near the gates of the city. "No," he heard her utter faintly, as the quickening spread until it covered the entire sky. After the first instant she turned her head, but he continued to gaze in awe at the explosions that rent the city walls and gates that seemed to go on forever. "He's dead." Methos looked down at the form he still supported when the storm finally calmed down. "Carol . . ." "That barbarian bastard killed him." Her voice was stronger as she pushed herself upright and shook off his steadying hands. "Carol, stop!" He grabbed her before she could run out the door. "Don't do this, Adam! He was . . ." "I know what he was, Carol." "Then you know better than to get in my way," she replied as she broke his hold. Grabbing her sword, she continued towards the door. Methos tried to block her way and found himself slammed against the wall, her sword at his neck. Swallowing hard, he saw the absolute fury that burned in her eyes. For the first time in thousands of years, he felt a slight twinge of fear. "Don't try to stop me, or you'll regret it," she said quietly. Releasing him, she swept through the doorway, breaking into a run as she moved in the direction of the explosions. Methos leaned against the wall shakily, holding his throat. Hesitating, he weighed the odds and made a decision. Grabbing his own sword, he began to run in the direction Carol had gone minutes before. --------------------- Idaho Wilderness, 1995 Richie flinched as another round of gunfire went off near where he crouched behind a pile of debris. Although he knew he couldn't die, the explosions, the constant gunfire, the near total confusion of the raging battle was taking its toll on his nerves. he wondered as he watched Carol silently run towards the inconspicuous door that was their goal. If he turned his head slightly, he could see Mac covering the rear, moving as if he had been born with the rifle in his hands. Ahead, Methos was covering Carol's dash for the entrance. Hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to use the rifle he was wielding, the young immortal turned his attention to the battle that raged across the compound. Even though the sun had come up, it was nearly impossible to tell which side was which, or who was winning. The fighting itself was savage, both sides employing multiple weapons to deadly effect. Already, the dead littered the compound, and Richie gagged as he saw what looked like a Watcher step on a hidden mine. Turning his gaze away from the resulting mess, Richie saw one of the Hunter commandos hidden behind what was left of one of the gun bunkers. The Hunter, who was out of Methos' line of vision, raised a rifle and sighted. Richie yelled in his head as he realized the Hunter was aiming for Carol, who had reached the door. A split second later, she whirled and threw something in the direction of the hidden Hunter. Richie thought in numb surprise as he saw the man lying there with a knife hilt sticking out of his left eye. That was enough to bring up his breakfast. Embarrassed, he looked around, hoping that neither Methos nor MacLeod had seen his moment of weakness. What he saw was that Carol had the door open, and the older immortals were plunging inside. *Come _on_ Richie,* he heard her call impatiently, and he stumbled to his feet and ran for the door. As he crossed the threshold into the dark stairwell, something slammed into Richie's back, pushing him hard into Carol's arms. *Not now!* he heard her yell in his head as everything went black. --------------------- *Just perfect,* Carol spat, as she nearly threw Richie's body at a startled Duncan. *Now we have to wait for him to recover.* Duncan gently lowered his young friend to the stairs and watched Carol secure the door. *It's not his fault, you know.* *I know, I know,* she replied and dropped to her knees beside the "dead" immortal. *Back away.* Surprised, Duncan moved back and watched her put down her rifle and gently lay her hands on either side of Richie's head. In low tones, she began chanting in a language that he had never heard before. The Highlander gripped Methos' shoulder and whispered, "What is she doing?" "Speeding up the healing process," Methos muttered back, keeping his attention on the stairwell. "I thought she wasn't a healer," Duncan could already "feel" Richie begin to revive. "She's not." Methos never took his eyes from the dark below. "She's just forcing his own system to work faster." Richie chose that moment to sit up abruptly, nearly knocking Carol over. "Wha . . ." Carol clapped a hand over his mouth and hissed something in his ear. Duncan saw Richie nod as she took her hand away and helped him up. *Are we ready now?* At the immortals' assent, she replied *good*, and began the descent into the stairwell. *What is this, exactly?* Duncan asked. *Sort of an emergency exit,* Methos answered him. *But where does it lead?* *Here.* Carol's "voice" intruded on the conversation as she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. She motioned them through the door. *This way; it's clear.* Duncan entered the room and stopped dead, his rifle hanging useless at his side. The room was gigantic, and in front of him was a wall of swords. he thought as he gaped in astonishment at the collection. Every period and style imaginable was represented by the enormous collection hanging in front of him. *Thousands,* Carol replied, moving up to stand next to him. *And each one representing a dead immortal.* Duncan felt sick as he realized what this "trophy" wall represented. Each immortal killed, not in the game, but by the Hunters. All they were lost to eternity because no immortal was present when they were killed. "Oh, man . . ." Richie's exclamation made him turn, and he faced an even grislier "trophy" collection. "Why would they do this?" Duncan asked after long moments of staring at the shelves. "Why would _he_ do this, you mean?" Carol asked. "Because that is the way he is. Twisted. Evil." She shook her head. "Come on, we need to go. I've got a lock on Joe and Anne." Duncan turned from the rows upon rows of glass jars, and focused his attention on the ancient immortal. "Are they all right?" "They're alive, and Anne is conscious. That's all I can tell." She gave him a compassionate look. "He wouldn't harm them, you know. They're more valuable to him as bait than anything else." Swallowing to clear his throat, Duncan nodded in reply and hefted his rifle. "Where to?" "This way," Carol took the lead again, and led them towards another door. When she opened it, Duncan whistled as for the first time he got an idea of exactly how large the underground facility really was. Corridors stretched on endlessly in all directions. "Let's go." --------------------- /Notes/ The Herrialdaketa shared one common genetic trait, the 'Talent' that enabled them to read minds and make themselves what they became. However, although they all possessed this ability, their proficiency covered a wide range of abilities. Even the weakest of the tribe could sense another's thoughts, although not always clearly. The strongest of the Talents could read and/or project thoughts and emotions over wide distances, could influence the thought processes of others, and could even interfere with the normal electrical workings of the brain. These strong Talents usually became healers, researchers, or servants of the Mother. Along with the telepathy, other, more unpredictable talents began cropping up within the tribe. The Seer's ability (precognition), of course, was one of the rarest, and only appeared in female children. Other "strange" abilities included: telekinesis, empathy, projecting empathy, tele-holography ( a strange trait in which the person was able to project vivid 3D images), pyrokinesis, and even the ability to teleport (usually only small objects, although in one case, the person was able to move himself over short distances). None of these traits were sex-linked, and would unpredictably show up in the family groups. (to be continued in chapter 14 ) ------------------- All questions/comments/criticisms/flames to me at GrinnyP@aol.com. Carol Ann =========================================================================