XOVER: Changing of the Guard 5: Terms of Engagement 10/19 [PG13]
Ecolea (ecolea@wt.net)
Thu, 20 Jun 2002 00:34:20 -0500
Chapter 18
Methos checked his watch again just as he was finishing up his overview =
of Gallisian culture and customs. A fairly easy thing to do since the =
Gallisians were quite proud of their history and accomplishments -- =
writing voluminous essays, books and articles on the subject. He'd also =
had a quick look at a few current news and entertainment vids, which =
gave him most of what he needed to know about local fashions and the =
political state of the planet at large.
It would do for the moment, he thought, stifling a yawn as he reached =
for his pack, suddenly feeling the presence of another Immortal.
Shit! Methos silently cursed the fates. Still, he reminded himself, the =
presence of another of his kind did not necessarily mean he would be =
challenged. Of course, he wasn't interested in finding out either way, =
so he beat a hasty retreat from the library, slipping out a side door. =
The presence followed and Methos grimaced, searching for any sign of the =
Immortal. The street was crowded with office workers on their way home, =
which made him feel marginally safer, but not by much.
Then, ominously, the other Immortal was suddenly standing beside him. No =
doubts now about whether or not they played the Game on Gallisia, Methos =
frowned. This man wore the uniform long coat of all Immortals and =
carried himself like a warrior born.
Trapped, but ever cautious, Methos waited for the other man to make the =
first move. Friend or foe, he wondered briefly, then the man offered him =
a small, exceedingly polite bow. Surprised, Methos nodded politely.
"I don't know you," the Ancient Immortal stated bluntly. "And as far as =
I'm concerned we have no quarrel."
"I am Daric. There is a temple not far from here. Will you join me?"
Flabbergasted, Methos brows rose in astonishment. If this man was indeed =
offering friendship, he could learn a great deal about Gallisia, and an =
old Immortal was surely the perfect source. He was still wary, but the =
opportunity was too good to pass up. Methos finally nodded, following =
from a short distance behind, which, strangely enough, Daric didn't seem =
to mind.
"Might I know your name?" Daric asked as they entered the temple proper =
and Methos followed him into an open courtyard.
"Adam," he said simply, watching as the other man shrugged off his long =
coat and laid it carefully on a stone bench.
"You are an honorable man, Adam. Such is rare among Undying Ones. =
Therefore, I will make this quick."
Methos watched in horror as Daric suddenly drew his sword from the =
sheath at his back.
"Are you mad?" Methos exclaimed, backing away and hurriedly tossing his =
pack aside as he unsheathed his own blade. "This is holy ground!"
Daric gave him an odd look. "As you said, we have no quarrel, Adam. =
But... You hold your weapon as one who has fought before. Surely you =
know that we may only fight on holy soil."
Methos felt a sickening twist in the pit of his stomach. He'd never =
known from whence or where the belief that holy ground was forbidden to =
a challenge had originated, but it was a tradition honored by all =
Immortals. At least on Earth. Then again, perhaps it was merely a =
cultural inhibition stemming from a time when the god's house was =
considered sanctuary to mortals and Immortals alike.
"Tell me," Methos said hurriedly. "Are you not afraid to offend God by =
fighting in a place of worship?"
Daric laughed heartily at that. "You are joking, surely."
Methos shook his head, desperately trying to figure a way out. =
Unfortunately, high stone walls enclosed the courtyard, and the only =
escape route he could see was to go through Daric.
The other Immortal sighed. "I must have been mistaken. You are young. =
Still, another moment or two will make no difference in the end. You are =
armed and the Goddess demands we fight."
"The Goddess?" Methos asked. "Which goddess?"
Again Daric sighed. "Your mentor should have told you all of this, =
child. But," he shrugged, "I would not see you come to me in ignorance. =
So," Daric began, "I shall tell you the truth. We, the Undying Ones, do =
not follow the god of this world, for we are not of this world. We =
follow only the teachings of Esotar, Blessed Goddess of the Ancient =
Ones, who teaches us--"
"Give me a break!" Methos groaned no longer bothering to listen. =
Esotar...Esotar... It sounded familiar. Almost like...Ishtar. And Ishtar =
was another form of a name he knew all too well. Inanna!
That bitch! Methos cried out silently. And now he knew where the Game =
had come from and why. Just as the Tok'ra had been created to keep the =
Goa'uld from growing too powerful, so Inanna had created the Game on =
worlds outside her direct sphere of influence. Which gave her the power, =
at least in absentia, to wean out Immortals, keeping their numbers to a =
minimum.
And suddenly Methos remembered. Remembered something he had not only =
long forgotten, but something which came from a time he'd never really =
wanted to recall.
Bound hand and foot, he'd been dragged into a dusty paddock by the =
terrified mortal servants of the man who had purchased him after the =
fall of Akkad. Ku'haktar. He could see him even now, standing over him, =
asking if he knew anything at all of the Game.
Wisely, Methos had pretended ignorance, for he really didn't know all =
that much and maybe this man could enlighten him. He vaguely remembered =
listening to a rambling and barely coherent tale of some exquisitely =
beautiful goddess of which Methos had never heard and to which Ku'haktar =
swore he would be wed once he killed all other rivals and achieved the =
status of the greatest warrior on Earth. It had sounded like all the =
rest of the nonsensical fables he'd heard from other Immortals, each of =
whom had their own version of how the Game began, or worse yet, none at =
all.
Coming back to himself with a slight shudder, Methos evaluated Daric. =
The man seemed intelligent and, in other circumstances, was probably a =
good-natured, kind-hearted fellow. Yet, Methos knew the look of zealot =
when he met one and he doubted he could change Daric's mind. Still, he =
had to try.
"It's a lie, my friend. There is no Game. No goddess to be won."
Daric stared as though his opponent was a raving lunatic, and it was =
then that Methos knew there was no hope. No way to reason with a man =
whose world would be shattered by such knowledge. Still, Methos thought, =
he knew how to play the Game. And if Daric was going to insist on =
fighting Methos wanted not only to shake his faith, but more =
importantly, his emotional balance.
"You cannot collect my power," Methos patiently went on, "like someone =
siphoning a battery. We are all separate entities living on even after =
our mortal bodies are shed -- to wander amongst the cosmos, or to find a =
new host and begin again. And as we age, corporeal or not, our energy =
grows until we are powerful enough to evolve into a higher form of =
being. Esotar lied to keep Immortals from ever joining against her. But =
Esotar is dead. I should know. I killed her."
Daric's face went purple with rage. "You cannot kill a goddess!" he =
shouted, stalking his opponent.
"I beg to differ," Methos shrugged. "But we can agree to disagreed on =
that." And without warning, Methos lunged forward, engaging the fight.
***
Jack returned a little early from his self-assigned mission, hiding a =
smile as he felt the weight of the laser pistol in his pocket along with =
the one tucked securely into his boot. The Gallisians might not be =
interested in developing bladed weaponry, but they were pretty good at =
making small arms. And, given the areas he'd deliberately surveyed, it =
hadn't been too difficult to locate a less than honest weapons dealer =
who'd been willing to sell what O'Neill wanted for just the right price.
Not wanting to appear to be loitering on the street he peered into shop =
windows, pretending to examine the goods, all the while keeping an eye =
out for Methos.
A short time later he spotted Pierson turning a corner as he followed an =
unidentified, but well dressed man. A man in a long coat, like the ones =
Pierson and all the other Immortals he'd met generally wore when they =
were out in public. Again that sense of foreboding filled him as it had =
when he'd warned Methos to watch his head. He didn't know why he'd done =
that. It had simply felt...right.
He wouldn't take a challenge, Jack thought. Not here. Not now.
O'Neill frowned. On the other hand, it was possible that Pierson had =
found a source of information too good to pass up. Now that would be =
more like him, Jack reasoned. And again, for some reason, O'Neill was =
certain the stranger was an Immortal.
Without pause, O'Neill headed up the street, turning the same corner and =
following the pair at a distance. If Pierson had found a good informant =
then he certainly didn't want to scare the fellow off. Still, his =
training demanded he be there as backup just in case anything went =
wrong.
With an inward sigh of relief he saw them enter what looked to be a =
place of worship. A friendly meeting then, Jack surmised, on neutral =
ground. He moved into the shadowed entrance, avoiding the sunlit =
courtyard. Trees and shrubs blocked his view and muffled much of the =
sound, but he could vaguely hear them talking. The tone seemed cordial =
then suddenly the other man shouted and the sound of steel on steel =
resounded through the courtyard.
Jack whipped out his pistol and openly entered the area. With a look of =
surprise O'Neill stared at the combatants, watching with admiration as =
Methos seemed to have the upper hand in this fight. If fact, he looked =
downright joyous facing an opponent worthy of his skills. But this was =
holy ground! Methos would never violate... No, wait, O'Neill thought. If =
the Game is false then so are the rules.
All right, he thought soberly, not lowering his weapon. Let's see how it =
goes. I can still shoot the bastard if it looks like he's going to win. =
Or, he smirked. He could shoot them both and give Pierson the dressing =
down of a lifetime for endangering US government property -- namely, one =
Adam Pierson.
As Jack watched the look of pleasure left Methos' face and suddenly he =
was no longer playing. His narrow face went expressionless and with a =
low cut to the midsection and a higher one that ripped through the other =
Immortal's chest, Methos had the stranger on his knees.
"We had no quarrel, Daric," Methos said coldly as he pulled his blade =
from Daric's chest. "So have it your way."
As expressionless as Methos, O'Neill watched the final strike, nodding =
shortly as the surviving Immortal finally took note of his presence.
"Sorry, Jack," Methos said as the Quickening began to enfold him. "I'd =
no idea we only fought in temples here."
Now that's my Methos, Jack smiled to himself, putting his pistol away. =
Sensible and calculating.
The Quickening grew in strength and violence and Methos screamed, =
holding out his arms as it tried to consume him. Lightening scored the =
walls of the enclosure and as Jack ducked for cover the lightening arced =
and struck him, knocking him to the ground.
Methos watched in horror as Jack writhed -- caught in the blast of =
Quickening energies. Then, much to Methos' amazement, he felt the =
Quickening violently pulled from his body only to see it enter O'Neill =
as the light show ended and the courtyard once again became a place of =
solitude.
Methos hurriedly wiped his sword on the dead man's shirt, snatched up =
Daric's coat as spoils of war then went to Jack, kneeling beside the =
unconscious man. Never in his life had he seen anything like that =
before! True, he'd once shared a Quickening with MacLeod, but never did =
a Quickening jump from one Immortal to the next! Or, Methos wondered =
nervously, was it something more than that? Something having to do with =
Jack being an Ancient.
There was no time to think about it now though, as he saw Jack start to =
come around. Methos quickly sheathed his sword, helping O'Neill to his =
feet.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you never to duck under a tree during a =
lightening storm," Methos chided as he hefted one arm over his shoulder.
"Wha--?" Jack muttered dazedly, trying to shrug off Methos' hold. "Oh. =
Yeah. I'm fine. Just give me a couple of minutes."
"There are no minutes when you're Immortal," Methos stated bluntly. "We =
have to leave. Now!"
"Right," Jack nodded. "The body."
"Smart lad," Methos muttered, pulling him into a shadowy niche as a =
mortal, probably a priest of the temple, came to see what all the =
commotion was about. A moment later, they slipped out the front exit and =
into a side street where Jack was able to quickly recover his strength.
"Jesus!" The colonel groaned. "I didn't think there was anything worse =
than getting zatted."
"Never had the pleasure of meeting a Goa'uld pain stick, have you?"
"Yup. But that's just so much pain. It overwhelms you, but then it's =
gone and all you feel is wiped. Getting zatted really stays with you. =
Makes my brain itch for days."
Methos nodded thoughtfully. "You may be right. It does sort of feel like =
a small Quickening. But," he added, glancing nervously around. "Now that =
we've defined zatting versus Quickening, what do you say we get the hell =
out of here?"
"Sounds good to me," O'Neill sighed, pushing himself away from the wall =
against which he'd been resting. "I think I may have found us a place to =
stay. The area's a bit dicey, if you know what I mean, but it's cheap =
and I get the feeling that at night it's the place to be."
"Don't tell me," Methos rolled his eyes as they sauntered around a =
corner and he followed Jack's lead. "It's sort of like an artists' =
colony?"
Jack merely grinned, slapping Methos on the shoulder. "You'll see."
---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.371 / Virus Database: 206 - Release Date: 6/14/02