Full Circle 2 of 8

      Celedon (celedon1@AIRMAIL.NET)
      Sun, 10 Jun 2001 22:56:43 -0500

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      (I forgot to say that permission is given to Seventh Dimension to =
      archive--all others please ask. ~Celedon)
      
      Chapter 2=20
      
      Darius peered into the dark reaches of the church from where the softly =
      clipped voice came from but couldn't discern a body. "Is it really you?" =
      
      
      Methos looked at himself; he half smiled as he watched Darius who stood =
      near the altar. "Last time I looked it was."=20
      
      Darius turned and lit the candelabra and began to walk towards where =
      Methos stood. "You and I parted ways centuries ago. You became a rumor; =
      a myth."=20
      
      "Mythology has its' advantages, Dareios. You too have myths surrounding =
      you from what I have heard." Methos shifted his position and pressed =
      himself further into the shadows. "Don't come any closer. I'd rather not =
      be seen."=20
      
      Darius' voice became tinged with concern. "Is something wrong? Let me =
      help you if I can." He stopped midway down the aisle and looked into the =
      darkness once more.=20
      
      Methos snorted. "It's true! You have changed. I remember a man on a =
      horse charging down a army of thousands with his troops and winning the =
      day despite the odds against you."=20
      
      "That was a very long time ago, my friend, a time that I have left long =
      ago behind me," Darius quietly replied. He sat the candelabra down then =
      slowly lowered himself onto one of the chairs and sighed. "A very long =
      time ago..."=20
      
      __________________________________________________=20
      
      378 CE Adrianople, Italy=20
      
      The dust rolled in great clouds as the armies crashed and sawed at one =
      another as both Visigoths and Roman armies tried to get the upper hand =
      against one another. Screams of men intermingled with the screams of =
      horses that were systematically gutted when the calvary tried to ride =
      through the Roman ranks.=20
      
      The ground was littered in broken bodies, gore and blood that soaked the =
      ground making it slick and hard to maneuver in. Each line wavered in =
      ebbs and tides yet both still were able to hold their positions despite =
      the odds against them being able to do so.=20
      
      High on a hill on horseback sat a man watching the battle. His long, =
      black locks blew about in the wind and framed his angular face while his =
      eyes narrowed as he saw the Visigoths' calvery gather strength once =
      more. "By all the gods above!" he swore and turned about in search of a =
      runner to deliver his battle maneuvers to turn the tide of their =
      calvary.=20
      
      Spying a man who he knew to be swift, he summoned him to his side. =
      "Praetorian! Here, take this to the generals quickly." He folded up a =
      piece of sheepskin on which he had scurried a quick note in Latin on it. =
      He pointed a finger at the soldier. "Everyone, do you understand?" The =
      soldier nodded and ran for all he was worth towards the battlefield.=20
      
      Methos watched him go, re-checked the positions of the armies again and =
      became alarmed as he realized that the Romans were about to become =
      overrun by the Visigoths' calvery. As he watched, a great cry was heard =
      from the opponents' side and the Roman shield wall collapsed. The =
      Visigoths' calvery poured through the opening like water breaking =
      through an aqueduct and before he could blink they began to make their =
      way through the entire Roman ranks.=20
      
      Once the calvery had breached the shield wall, their foot soldiers =
      followed as each side tried to regain ground or keep the ground they had =
      just fought and won moments before.=20
      
      Methos wheeled his horse about abruptly, realizing that it was soon to =
      be a lost cause for the Romans and that whoever had planned this attack =
      was a brilliant tactician as well as great leader. One side of his mouth =
      quirked up in an ironic half smile. "A man after my own heart," he =
      thought to himself. He swung down from the horse, recovered a fresh one, =
      and swung upon his back. Turning towards the battle, he rode towards the =
      fray to deliver the instructions himself as to how to stop the onslaught =
      of his opponents.=20
      
      Pulling his sword the closer he came to the battle, he began to hack and =
      slash at whoever came anywhere near him not caring if it was friend or =
      foe. It was hard to distinguish which side was which anyway; one man =
      fighting or dying looked the same as another. Neither side wore anything =
      that distinguished them as being Visigoth or Roman except perhaps in =
      their weapons; in the rush and heat of battle, who had time to look? One =
      concentrated on surviving and that was all one did.=20
      
      The sunlight was hot and the glinting on all the iron swords and metal =
      on the shields made him near blind and the roar of over 30,000 men as =
      well as the 5,000 strong calvary was deafening. He took a look about to =
      get his bearings; he never saw the blade that came at him from behind =
      which struck at his spine.=20
      
      Fortunately, it hit the large knife he had carried there in habit for =
      centuries, slipping away and upwards while it still made it's mark on =
      him as it shaved off both muscle and tissue before it skittered off his =
      shoulder blade.=20
      
      Gasping in shock and pain, his arm reached behind him to feel what was =
      or was not there. He was losing a lot of blood and knew it; he also knew =
      that he would bleed to death shortly if he didn't do something fast like =
      heal but there wasn't a way to induce the healing to happen faster than =
      it normally did that he knew of.=20
      
      The world began to spin around as his eyes blurred; he fell off his =
      horse with a heavy thud. A sensation tingled through him sending a =
      warning that somewhere another Immortal was close at hand. His breathing =
      became more labored and he attempted to get to his feet but again he =
      couldn't get his body to coordinate with his thoughts. Blearily, he =
      looked up as a shadow blocked the sun from his eyes.=20
      
      A tall man with flowing blonde hair stood over him, his body a mass of =
      cat-like grace and agile swiftness. He wore a shift of cotton the color =
      of doves but also stained with the blood and gore of many. In his hands =
      he held a sword unlike any that Methos had seen before and as he =
      watched, a cold smile came to the man's lips.=20
      
      Methos held his hand up and tried once more to get to his feet but it =
      was to no avail. "Who are you?" he rasped as he began to feel his body =
      grow cold with the grip of death.=20
      
      "I am Greyson," the man answered coldly yet arrogantly. "And you're =
      mine!"=20
      
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