Ghosts
Scotland, six months after the death of Rachel Ellenstein.
It took me a while to find you all. Times change, places change. But find you I did, here in what was once the chruchyard of the village of Glennfinnan, and now its time for me to say a few of the things I should have said before. The opportunity may not come again.
Angus. I kept my promise, kinsman. The years have dragged on for longer than I can bear to count sometimes, but I've always remembered you, and how you put your neck on the line to save your younger cousin at a time when the rest of the world turned its back on him. Thank you, kinsman. I owe you my life, without any doubt.
Dugal. I remember you too. But while I cannot forget, I can forgive, cousin who taught me to wield a sword and ride a horse. You were afraid, as all of them were, even as I was, and you let that fear guide you. I bear you no ill-will.
Kate. You, I cannot forgive. I loved you once, and thought that you loved me. I will not speak against you now, now that your sharp-edged tongue can no longer be employed in your own defense, but I will say this: I have not lost the scars you gave me when you forsook me. I know how Jesus must have felt, as Peterspoke his denial. You taught me that.
Mother. My dear maithre. I am so, so sorry. The tears that now fall on your grave are no recompense for my failure to save you, but they are all I have to give. I should have stopped them, should have come for you sooner, should have done anything but watch you die. Maithre...
Father Rainey. I know you were a good and honest man, even though your fear and ignorance helped drive me from my home, and led my mother to her funeral pyre. Even though you wronged me and mine, you always acted from the best of intentions. I can forgive you now, for the first time in four hundred fifty years, for what you did. You didn't deserve the death you recieved. You were acting out of good intentions then, too. I struck you down unjustly, wronging you even as you had wronged me, and for that crime I cannot find redemption. I hope your God forgave you of your sins when you came to Him for judgement. If He did, perhaps He can pardon me as well.
Jacob Kell. I can't find your grave here among the others, but I know you cannot be elsewhere. He who once was my dear friend, forgive me. I murdered the man who had been a father to you, and then I struck you down in anger. Your face in agony as the life drains from it is still in my memory. I wish I could forget it. Part of me wishes we could meet again, if only so that I could have one last chance of righting this wrong of mine. There is another part of me that wishes I could kill you again, and again and again, until your blood finally covers the blood of my mother, taken away from me by you. No, Jacob, I know there is nothing I can do to reach you now. You were my friend, and in the end you became my enemy, but now you must be nothing but mouldering bones in this earth. Besides, if there is one thing I've learned over the centuries, it is that revenge cannot bring redemption.
This ruined tower was old when I lived in it. Now it is ancient, what little of it is left. Ramirez and the Kurgan tore most of it to pieces, and time is finishing the job. Here lie the others, the last farewells I have left to say.
My father. I was not the seed of your loins, but a father you were to me. You gave me the most precious things you had. Your skill, and your daughter. You accepted me for what I was, not for what you feared me to be. I only wish I could have known you longer.
Ramirez. You set me on this road of endless killing, all those years ago. You taught me what I was, gave me all your warrior's skills, left me your legacy of honor and your noble sword. The first I have upheld, the second I have wielded well and justly. Your murder is avenged, my brother. The Kurgan is dead.
Heather. My dearest love. I watched you die, but I also watched you live. The latter outweighs the former. I would not trade our years together for anything. I only wish I could have given you the children you longed for. Goodbye, my bonny Heather.
I'm going now to a place of sanctuary, a place where I hope to find rest from my nightmares. Rest, but not redemption. It will have to do.
Rest in peace, all of you.
As I turn away from the graves, I think for a moment that I hear a familiar voice whisper my name.
"Jacob?" I turn, but there is nothing but shadow behind me. Shadows, ghosts, and memories.
The End
Scotland, six months after the death of Rachel Ellenstein.
It took me a while to find you all. Times change, places change. But find you I did, here in what was once the chruchyard of the village of Glennfinnan, and now its time for me to say a few of the things I should have said before. The opportunity may not come again.
Angus. I kept my promise, kinsman. The years have dragged on for longer than I can bear to count sometimes, but I've always remembered you, and how you put your neck on the line to save your younger cousin at a time when the rest of the world turned its back on him. Thank you, kinsman. I owe you my life, without any doubt.
Dugal. I remember you too. But while I cannot forget, I can forgive, cousin who taught me to wield a sword and ride a horse. You were afraid, as all of them were, even as I was, and you let that fear guide you. I bear you no ill-will.
Kate. You, I cannot forgive. I loved you once, and thought that you loved me. I will not speak against you now, now that your sharp-edged tongue can no longer be employed in your own defense, but I will say this: I have not lost the scars you gave me when you forsook me. I know how Jesus must have felt, as Peterspoke his denial. You taught me that.
Mother. My dear maithre. I am so, so sorry. The tears that now fall on your grave are no recompense for my failure to save you, but they are all I have to give. I should have stopped them, should have come for you sooner, should have done anything but watch you die. Maithre...
Father Rainey. I know you were a good and honest man, even though your fear and ignorance helped drive me from my home, and led my mother to her funeral pyre. Even though you wronged me and mine, you always acted from the best of intentions. I can forgive you now, for the first time in four hundred fifty years, for what you did. You didn't deserve the death you recieved. You were acting out of good intentions then, too. I struck you down unjustly, wronging you even as you had wronged me, and for that crime I cannot find redemption. I hope your God forgave you of your sins when you came to Him for judgement. If He did, perhaps He can pardon me as well.
Jacob Kell. I can't find your grave here among the others, but I know you cannot be elsewhere. He who once was my dear friend, forgive me. I murdered the man who had been a father to you, and then I struck you down in anger. Your face in agony as the life drains from it is still in my memory. I wish I could forget it. Part of me wishes we could meet again, if only so that I could have one last chance of righting this wrong of mine. There is another part of me that wishes I could kill you again, and again and again, until your blood finally covers the blood of my mother, taken away from me by you. No, Jacob, I know there is nothing I can do to reach you now. You were my friend, and in the end you became my enemy, but now you must be nothing but mouldering bones in this earth. Besides, if there is one thing I've learned over the centuries, it is that revenge cannot bring redemption.
This ruined tower was old when I lived in it. Now it is ancient, what little of it is left. Ramirez and the Kurgan tore most of it to pieces, and time is finishing the job. Here lie the others, the last farewells I have left to say.
My father. I was not the seed of your loins, but a father you were to me. You gave me the most precious things you had. Your skill, and your daughter. You accepted me for what I was, not for what you feared me to be. I only wish I could have known you longer.
Ramirez. You set me on this road of endless killing, all those years ago. You taught me what I was, gave me all your warrior's skills, left me your legacy of honor and your noble sword. The first I have upheld, the second I have wielded well and justly. Your murder is avenged, my brother. The Kurgan is dead.
Heather. My dearest love. I watched you die, but I also watched you live. The latter outweighs the former. I would not trade our years together for anything. I only wish I could have given you the children you longed for. Goodbye, my bonny Heather.
I'm going now to a place of sanctuary, a place where I hope to find rest from my nightmares. Rest, but not redemption. It will have to do.
Rest in peace, all of you.
As I turn away from the graves, I think for a moment that I hear a familiar voice whisper my name.
"Jacob?" I turn, but there is nothing but shadow behind me. Shadows, ghosts, and memories.
The End