Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 11:40:11 -0500 Reply-To: mikester@BIX.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Breen Subject: THE CHANGELING - PART VI NEW YORK CITY, UNITED STATES, JANUARY 1995 "Why don't we go to my workout room and you can try them out," said Connor MacLeod. "Does every Immortal have their own private gym?" Nancy said. "Not everyone," Patrick said, "But it _does_ help." Connor said, "I don't think the local health club would stand for us bringing in Japanese samurai swords." They were in Connor's workout room now. He handed her the first sword. She took a few swings and said, "Do you have your sword with you, Patrick?" "Always," her Mentor said, taking off his coat and unsheathing his sword. Nancy took a few strokes at Patrick's blade with it. "No," she said, "There's something about it I don't like." Connor handed her the second and she took several strokes at Patrick's blade. "Yes," she said, "This is _it_." Connor put the other two swords away. Then Patrick said, "Then make it part of you." Nancy, wide-eyed stared at the sword in her hand. Then Patrick turned to Connor and said, "What do I owe you?" "Forget it," Connor said. "What is it," Nancy said, "About these swords that they're so..." she was at a loss for words "They're simply," Patrick said, "the finest swords ever made." BOSTON, MASS, UNITED STATES, JANUARY 1995 Patrick wasn't looking forward to this. He was sitting across from the Dean of the History department, ready to hand in his resignation. He had written an official letter that the Dean was reading now. "What's this supposed to be?" the Dean said. "My resignation," Patrick said. "I can see that, but _why_?" "Because my ward has come to live with me again and I want to spend some time with her." "That's _no_ reason, Patrick. And what's this about a ward? I don't remember you having a ward." "She's been my responsibility since she was fifteen. And I've sloughed her off onto other people. She's been going to school in Illinois since then. Her cousin being killed brought her back here. But I've also been feeling stagnant for a long time now. I need something different." "But this makes no sense." "My mind's made up. Either you accept my resignation, or I'll just call in sick for the remainder of the semester." There was nothing for the Dean to do but say, "Fine. I don't like it, or understand it. But we've lost one of our best History professors today." Over the next two weeks, Nancy and Patrick settled into a routine. They would wake at seven each morning, walk down to the Esplanade and jog. They would return to the townhouse apartment for breakfast and Patrick would dispense advice, much of which he'd heard from Ramirez. They would spend an hour or two talking of philosophy, religion, or history. Nancy was an eager student, and Patrick was thankful but not surprised that the eagerness wasn't just for history. One morning, Patrick was speaking of religion. "It was hard for me, at first, to open my eyes to the endless possibilities of the Higher Power," he said, "but Ramirez was wise and took me to one of the few remaining shrines of the Old Religion. Living among them, knowing that they _weren't_ doing things like sacrificing children taught me that they were no different from me. They were just praying to a different aspect of the Higher Power." Nancy said, "I always suspected it was something like that." Patrick said, "You'll have an easier time accepting it than I did." "And Ramirez? How did _he_ accept it?" "Ramirez was born in Egypt almost three thousand years ago. He was already used to the idea of several different gods." "I wish I could have known him. How did he die?" "The most evil Immortal to ever exist, the Kurgan, killed him." "And this Kurgan? Where is he now?" "Connor killed him ten years ago. He did mankind a favor. The Kurgan had a good chance of winning the Prize." After their morning lesson, they would work out, beginning with various Karate forms, and moving onto weights. They would break for lunch and Patrick would give her a history lesson, since she intended on returning to school someday. After her lesson, they would walk around Boston or Cambridge before returning in the early evening. They then spent the time before dinner (usually an hour, but Patrick wanted to increase that as she got in better shape) sparring with their Katanas. The evenings were usually quietly spent watching television, or, more often simply talking. It was one evening, late in January, when the phone rang. Nancy answered it since by now most of Patrick's acquaintances (mortal and Immortal) knew he had taken her in. "Hello?" she said. "Well well," said the voice on the other end. "Nice to speak to you, young one." "Who is this?" at that Patrick looked up, alert. "James Thomas Riley. I'm sure your daddy told you about me." Nancy inhaled sharply. "Nancy?" Patrick said. "I'm gonna take that pretty little head of yours, little girl," Riley was saying. "And then daddy will get his." Patrick, knowing full well who it was, took the phone from Nancy and said, "Listen you bastard, I'm gonna say this once and one time only. Stay away from Nancy. If it's me you want, come and get me," he hung up. IRELAND, COUNTY CORK, MAY-AUGUST 1181 Over the next months, Ramirez and Patrick settled into a routine. They rose before sunrise with the rest of the village and spent time between the pre-dawn hour and full dawn in prayer. Then they would exercise by running two or three miles. After the run came breakfast, after which Patrick would help out around the village with whatever needed to be done. He worked the fields, tended the livestock, but mostly helped watch the children. Ramirez had told him that he would never father a child, and the knowledge was painful. After lunch, Ramirez spent the afternoon teaching Patrick Japanese-style hand-to-hand combat. Swordcraft, he said, would come later, after they had taken their leave of the Pagans. They would finish the day with a long run before retiring with the others of the village, and spent the sunset hour in prayer, after which came supper. Patrick, once he accepted where he was and _what_ he was, amazed himself as to how easy it was for him to fall into the Pagan faith. The structure was looser than the hierarchical Christian faith he was brought up in. At times he felt that if he had been born _here_, things would have been different. He was sure that he would have been found by Ramirez, since these people seemed to know him well. But also, every mortal in the village knew that he was Immortal. One night in late May, Patrick asked him about this. "This culture is far older than the Christian one, far older than I am, in fact. Aoife has been hear for over a millineum. That name she called me was my original Egyptian name. There are only a few who I use it with. As for these people knowing about us, they know me, and through me know you. We can be open about our Immortality with them. Remember how I told you of the beginnings of the Changeling legends? They started with these people and others like them." Patrick also spent much time walking and talking with Aoife after the evening meal. They spoke often of matters of Faith _and_ Immortality. One night in June, two nights before the Solstice, Aoife posed a question that caught the young Immortal completely off-guard. "Are you married, O'Braoin?" "What?" Patrick said, startled. "I asked you if you were married. And it is not for myself that I ask." She seemed to have read his mind. Patrick blushed and replied, "Yes, I am." "Do you intend on bringing her here?" Patrick shook his head and said, "The Christians would have her burned." "Yes," Aoife said, "It's best this way. I was going to ask Ramirez to allow you to remain here. For as long as you want. But with your wife... _and_ Ramirez has plans for you. He had your entire training mapped out in his mind before you were even killed. He's a remarkable man." "Yes," was all Patrick could say, "he is." They walked on in silence. Finally Patrick posed a question that had been on his lips since Ramirez revealed that he and Aoife had known eachother for centuries. He said, "How did you meet him?" She smiled and said, "Like you, he was my Mentor. He found me on the opposite coast of the island and brought me here. I knew little of matters of faith, but this land spoke to me. I met in secret with the priestesses, for fear that Ramirez would disapprove. And I was filled with dread when I told him my intentions to remain here until the Gathering. I thought he would explode with rage. Instead he embraced me. Ever since then we had a... relationship." Now it was her turn to blush. "Not love or anything close to marriage, Ramirez will have no permanent relationship with any woman." Patrick long had a feeling about his Mentor and his spiritual guide. The electricity that passed between the two of them whenever they were together. The nights Ramirez was absent from their hut. It was really no surprise, which was why her original question caught him off-guard so. But Aoife changed the subject suddenly and her tone was somber. "The Old Ways are dying, O'Braoin. A century, maybe two, and I will have to leave Holy Ground and re-enter the world. We have a great responsibility, you, I, and Ramirez. In the centuries to come, we _must_ remember." And so continued into July and August. In late August, Ramirez and O'Brien prepared to leave the village and head west. If Ramirez had a destination in mind, he was not telling his student. Three days before they would take their leave, Ramirez spoke with Patrick alone in their hut. "Brother, there's something you have to think of," he said. Patrick looked at his teacher, waiting. Ramirez said, "There were three reasons I brought you here. One, and the most important, was for you to expand your appreciation of the Higher Power and to break out of the limitations of your Christian upbringing. That has been accomplished. You can now appreciate any of the world's Faiths in whichever country you find yourself living in. The second was to keep you safe on Holy Ground until you were ready to begin taking up the sword. That also has been accomplished. As we travel west, we will begin your training of swordcraft. The third was to enable Gwenna to establish herself a life." "What?" Patrick said. "Brother, I know this will be hard for you to hear, but you must leave Gwenna." "But why?" Ramirez paused before going on. "In my two thousand and eighty-three years, I have been married three times. The last was Shikiko, a Japanese Princess. We were married and lived together nearly six hundred years before Christ. Her death shattered me and I became a shell of a man and vowed never to marry or pledge my life to any woman again. I advise you to do the same." "But..." "Are you willing to watch your Gwenna grow old and die while you remain forever unchanging?" Patrick knew that Ramirez was right. And it hurt. The day came when the two Immortals were taking their leave of the Pagan village. Patrick gazed upon the peaceful little settlement and its stone temple. Aoife rode with them as far as the edge of the wood. Then the three Immortals stopped. "O'Braoin," Aoife said. "Yes?" he said. "Never forget what you've learned here. But this is just a small part of the whole Truth. And when Ramirez is done with your training, consider returning here for a longer stay." "I will," Patrick said. Aoife kissed Patrick tenderly on the cheek and said, "May the Mother smile on you, Patrick O'Braoin." "And upon you, Aoife." They were at a fork in the road where one side would take them to the village where Gwenna was staying, and the other would lead them further from her. Patrick said, "Brother, we have to get her." "But I thought you had decided to leave her," Ramirez said. "I can't. She helped you rescue me. She put her life in danger for me. And I love her." Ramirez nodded and said, "I thought this would happen. We'll find a house to live in. But she has to understand that you and I will need to travel often." Patrick said, "She'll understand." And Ramirez knew she would. Unfortunately, she would never have understood if Patrick had ridden down the other road, out of her life forever. <<>> (c) 1995 Mabnesswords Mike Breen e-mail me with comments. mikester@bix.com =========================================================================