A/N: Thanks to everybetty for the beta! All other mistakes are my own. I've been working on this story for weeks, and didn't intend for it to be ready to post around Halloween. The timing worked out perfectly though! This story is pretty creepy toward the end...Enjoy!!
Chapter 1
"The Kankardesh," the old man announced. He had planted himself across from Teyla at the small table the team now occupied. After spending hours early that day searching some nearby ruins, they had been ravenously hungry, and they had reached the village just as the sun was starting to set. In the waning light, Teyla had spotted a lively tavern and inn, and the four of them had quickly arranged rooms for the night and settled down in the tavern for dinner. The old man had joined them soon afterward, mildly curious about their business until John had mentioned the ruins.
Within minutes, the man—introducing himself as Marek the Farmer—had launched into storytelling mode, gathering more and more patrons around the table until most of the tavern had assembled to hear him. McKay had been convinced the ruins were of Ancient origin, dangling the possibility of a ZPM in front of John to convince him to search the place. Teyla had almost laughed out loud at the scientist's obvious maneuverings—until she had realized she would be spending her entire day in the dark, dank, empty tunnels.
"What are the Kankardesh?" John asked with forced politeness.
Marek grimaced toothlessly, then took a swig from his mug. From a few knowing smiles Teyla caught among some of the villagers, the man in front of her seemed to have a reputation for spinning tales over a tankard of ale. He smacked his lips a few times before leaning in toward the Atlanteans. "The drinkers of blood," he answered with a whisper loud enough for all to hear.
"Drinkers of blood?" McKay repeated, almost choking on his bite of food.
The old man nodded. "They live off of the lives of the innocent and unsuspecting. They drain the bodies of blood, leaving behind nothing more than a dried up husk of a body."
"They steal the years of your life, adding it to their own," someone else in the room piped up.
"This sounds familiar," Teyla heard John mutter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ronon's hand tighten on his gun under the table.
"And have you seen any of these…Kankardesh? Do they live in the ruins?" McKay continued.
Most people shook their heads, but Marek was nodding. "Ach—no one knows where they live. But once, when I was a boy, I saw one. The legend says that anyone who sees one of these creatures will not survive the night, but I remember many years ago on my father's farm, I woke up to the sound of the animals in the barn baying in full panic."
More people gathered around the table, and Teyla resisted the urge to sigh. Marek drained the liquid from his cup and wiped his lips with his sleeve. He grinned as someone replaced his empty mug with a full one, and then he settled back into his chair, obviously enjoying the attention.
"The wind was blowing hard that night, and I was afraid another storm was coming in. That was the year of the big flood, you remember?" Murmurs of agreement ran through the crowd. Teyla caught McKay mid-eye roll and quickly covered a smile with her hand.
"I headed out toward the barn to calm the animals, when I heard a strange sound. I crept in through the back door, thinking that perhaps it was a thief. That was right before that itinerant band of animal thieves was caught, you remember?"
More murmurs of agreement, although most people were quiet, waiting for the old man to continue with his story. Teyla heard a barely concealed groan coming from Ronon's direction.
"I snuck into the barn and made my way forward. I could barely hear a thing for all the howling of wind and screeching moans of animals." Marek's voice had grown quieter until the entire tavern was leaning forward, forced to strain their ears to hear his story.
"Then, all of a sudden…" The old man paused a moment before slamming his mug hard on the table. John jerked back in surprise at the sound. McKay—and about half the patrons in the tavern—yelped, and Ronon slowly slid his gun back into its holster. Teyla closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache building.
"Something in the shadows moved," Marek picked up again. "I ducked into the nearest stall, covering myself with an old blanket and peering out a small hole. Whoever was in the barn had a lantern, and I could see their shadow flickering largely against the far wall as they walked down the length of the barn."
Teyla sat up a little straighter at the description, finding herself being drawn into the story, and noticed her teammates doing the same thing.
"It passed too closely for me to really see it—right in front of my face—and I didn't dare move for fear of drawing attention to my hiding spot. But I could hear it breathing heavily. And the smell! It smelled of death and rot. It was almost at the door, when it paused and looked right at the spot where I was hiding."
"What did it look like?" McKay asked, wide-eyed.
Beside her, Teyla heard John muttering under his breath, but before she could decipher what he was saying, Marek continued on.
"I just caught a glimpse of it, but its skin was pale beyond anything I had ever seen, like it had never seen the light of day," the old man continued, oblivious to John or anyone else. "It wore black leather clothes with strange patterns. Its long, stringy white hair hung in its face, but its eyes were yellow, and its mouth stained red." The old man took another long drink, his hand shaking at the memory. "It was the most inhuman thing I have ever seen."
The room was deadly still. Someone in the back called out, his voice subdued with either awe or horror. "Then what happened?"
"There was a howl outside, and the creature dove through the door, disappearing into the night. I never saw it again—couldn't even speak of it for years—but the next morning, my father and I found one of our cattle dead in the middle of the field. It looked as if it had been aged beyond its years. We could not even use its meat. It was dried almost to dust."
Teyla watched the old man drain his second mug of ale, then blink lazily into the empty cup.
"Thanks," John said next to her. Teyla smiled, not quite sure how to respond, when their storyteller finally looked up.
"Be careful, young man," he said, his gaze intense as he stared at John. "I can see you enjoy a good adventure, but these creatures are not to be fooled with." With that, he stood up from the table and wandered away before any of them could respond.
That bit of sage advice, Teyla decided, would have been much more effective had the man not weaved and stumbled his way back toward the bar, waving his empty mug at the tavern keeper.
The murmur of low conversation began to hum again throughout the room and the crowd slowly filtered back toward their own tables. John looked around to make sure the locals were no longer eavesdropping on their every word, and the rest of them leaned their heads in to give them some semblance of privacy.
"I hope this satisfies everyone's bedtime story quota for the day," John murmured.
"That was the longest, most cliché-ridden story I have ever heard," McKay griped, and Teyla winced at the volume of his voice. "Seriously? Marek the Farmer?"
"I liked it," Ronon announced and Teyla almost laughed at the look of horror on McKay's face.
"Obviously, he was talking about a Wraith," she interjected before McKay could launch into the diatribe clearly building on the tip of his tongue.
"I'd say that was fairly obvious," John jumped in.
"What do the Wraith have to do with the ruins?" Ronon asked.
John shook his head. "I didn't quite catch that part."
The others sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing up their meal. Now that she thought about it, the old man hadn't talked about the ruins at all. Either there was some connection between what that place used to be and the Wraith, or the old man had just been looking for a captive audience. She looked up at the bar, where the old man was now regaling the bartender with another story of his childhood, his tankard once again full.
"You know what's really odd? That guy was talking about the Wraith like something he hadn't seen since he was a kid. This village isn't that far from the ruins—if there were Wraith nearby, I would expect a little more panic or destruction, or at least something more than some old man's story from forty years ago."
"And I do not sense any Wraith here now," Teyla added.
"Something just feels off about this whole situation. I can't explain it."
Teyla nodded in agreement. John was right—there was something odd going on, a feeling of unease niggling in the back of her head, but she couldn't quite place it. Apparently, neither could the others. She felt a sudden sense of foreboding but shook it off.
"Maybe the energy readings McKay found in the ruins keep the Wraith away," Ronon suggested.
"Hey, yeah, like the planet with the kids," McKay added, snapping his fingers, but then he immediately began shaking his head. "No, that can't be it. If these people had a shield strong enough to keep the Wraith out, I'd be picking up a lot more than just intermittent energy signals."
They sat in silence, contemplating the information they had learned so far. Eventually John shook his head, and Teyla knew what he was thinking. It wasn't enough—they needed to know more.
"Alright," he said. "Let's head up to the rooms and get some sleep. Tomorrow, we'll split up and canvass the town. We need someone who knows the ruins who can help us."
The others nodded in agreement. As Teyla stood up from her seat, she glanced around the tavern. Her gaze stopped on a young woman who appeared to be staring at John. One glance at her teammate told her John had noticed the woman as well.
The stranger brushed dark hair away from her face and smiled at John when their eyes met. John smiled back then quickly looked away as a large, grizzly looking man set two tankards on the woman's table, sat down, and began whispering to her in earnest. As the others weaved through the tavern to the stairs that led to their rooms, Teyla glanced over at the young woman one last time and noticed how her eyes followed John through the room despite the grizzly looking man's attempts to capture the woman's attentions.
"'Night, young lady," the toothless old man called out to Teyla as he staggered past, reeking of alcohol. Within minutes, a song had broken out, and Teyla made a quick exit out of the tavern and up to her room.
A screeching howl rent the air, jarring Teyla from sleep. She lay there immobile in the darkness, allowing her eyes to adjust. In the pale moonlight filtering into the room, she saw John sit up in his bed and stare out the window. They listened for another moment, but the village was quiet.
Teyla sat up slowly and saw John look over at her. In the dark room, she could make out his silhouette standing up and slipping his feet into the boots next to his bed. He padded quietly up to the window.
"Do you see anything?" Teyla whispered.
John shook his head, then seemed to realize that Teyla probably couldn't see him very well. "No," he whispered back. "Whatever that was, the streets below are empty."
They both turned at a sudden creaking sound in the hallway outside their room, and Teyla reached for her gun when someone fiddled with the doorknob. John had moved to the table beside his bed and grabbed his own weapon, and they both stilled in preparation.
"Sheppard? Teyla?" Ronon's voice filtered through the closed door.
Teyla breathed a sigh of relief, setting her gun back down. "We are awake," she said, speaking louder now that she realized they were all up.
The runner opened the door, letting the soft light from the hallway spill into the room. "You see anything?"
"No, nothing. Seems quiet out there now," John answered. "McKay awake?"
Ronon grinned. "Yeah. Flew off the bed and rolled under it at the sound of that howl. I think that's the fastest I've ever seen him move."
Teyla couldn't help the small smile that played across his lips—both at the image of McKay hiding under the bed and a little in pride that the scientist hadn't slept through the sound completely.
"He's trying to look out the window with mirrors now. Something about a…periscope?"
"What?" John asked, then immediately shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Tell him to go back to bed. Everything's quiet now."
Ronon nodded then disappeared, shutting the door behind him. The room was plunged into darkness again, and John stepped back toward his own bed. Teyla watched him suddenly freeze and she felt goose bumps break out over her skin. John spun back to the window and stared out into the dark night.
"Is something wrong?" Teyla asked. She slipped out of her bed and joined him at the window.
John paused for a moment then shook his head. "Felt like someone was watching but…" He gestured at the empty street below. "I don't know…probably nothing."
Teyla looked down at the dark and quiet village. The street was empty of people. She took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop its sudden pounding.
"Never mind, Teyla. It's nothing," John said. He turned away from the window and crawled back into bed. Teyla glanced one last time outside, then made her way back to her own bed. She lay there for awhile, staring at the still shadows on the ceiling over her head until she heard John's breathing even out into sleep, and only then did she allow herself to give in to the pull of fatigue.
The next morning, Teyla and John stood in front of the tavern. The ground was wet with dew, but the clouds had cleared out, and it looked like it was going to be another warm day.
John hoped their search of the village was a little more productive than the "information" they'd gotten in the tavern that morning. The villagers had seemed friendly and more than willing to talk, but he wasn't sure how many more stories he could take. No one they'd talked to had apparently ever actually seen one of these Kankardesh or Wraith or whatever they were for themselves, making John wonder just how much help the villagers were going to be.
But that's how myths and legends started. One encounter with a Wraith could generate years of stories and rumors.
Despite the early morning hour, the sun was starting to beat down now, and John wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Teyla had wandered over to a fruit stall and was either bargaining for something that looked like a large green apple or trying to get information. John settled on the former, and smiled in satisfaction when Teyla started picking up each piece to test their ripeness.
"You're the stranger asking questions about the ruins," a woman's voice spoke behind him.
John turned around to see a young woman with thick, dark hair curled around her shoulders standing in the door of a small shed. It was the same woman he'd caught staring at him in the tavern the night before. She had a handful of fabric in her arms, and when she smiled, her brown eyes twinkled. There was something shy but playful about her, and John found himself smiling back.
"Uh, yes, I was," he said, feeling a little tongue tied. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Teyla. "We were…are…We are asking questions."
The girl smiled again and turned away, disappearing into the dark room behind her. John cringed at the sudden sensation that he was sixteen again and wanting to ask the popular girl to the prom. He walked up to the door, peering in cautiously.
The woman had dropped her pile of fabric—clothes, John now saw—into a large tub of steaming water and was busy submerging it with a long wooden pole. It looks like something out of a Jane Austen movie, he thought, then cringed that he would recognize anything from a Jane Austen movie.
Other than the woman, there was no one else in the small shed, but John stayed in the doorway, keeping a careful eye on the street. "Do you know anything about the ruins?"
"Oh, just the usual," the woman answered. She set the pole aside and reached for a large box on the shelf above her. "You got quite the show in the tavern last night, so I'm sure you'd prefer it if I didn't repeat any more stories of strange, blood-sucking creatures." Her fingers brushed the bottom of the box as she tried to reach it.
"I think I've heard plenty of stories for one day," John admitted. "Here, let me help you with that." He stepped forward, easily wrapping his hands around the box and bringing it down. It was more heavy than he expected.
"Um…," he stuttered. The woman had not moved out of the way when he'd grabbed the box, and he now found himself standing uncomfortably close to her. She smelled of flowers and cedar wood. John forced himself to step back from her. "Where do you want this?"
The woman smiled again, and John decided she was definitely much more playful than she was shy. She pointed to a small table next to the tub, and he set it down as quickly as he could.
"Thank you," she said. "My name is Maya, by the way."
"Colonel…uh…John. You can call me John."
"John." She opened the box and scooped out some powder, and the flowery smell intensified. "I've been to the ruins before," she said casually. "When I was younger. All those stories about blood-sucking creatures, I think, are more to keep the children away."
"Really?" John asked, thinking they might find the help they need after all. At Maya's nod, John continued. "We're actually explorers. My friend is interested in studying the ruins a little closer but they're pretty big. We don't really know the lay-out."
"The ruins are huge. One could easily get lost down there," Maya said. She poured the powder into the hot water, where it dissolved instantly. The flowery scent permeated the room.
"We're hoping to find someone willing to show us around down there."
Maya stepped forward suddenly, reaching out and grabbing John's arm. "The ruins can be dangerous."
"Uh, that's okay." John stepped back, attempting to extricate himself from Maya's grasp and a little unsettled by her sudden intensity. She followed him, stepping closer and grabbing his other arm.
"I could help you," she whispered, and John had the inkling that the help she was offering was not necessarily the kind of help he had in mind. He reached for her arms and tried to push her back as gently as he could.
"Ah, look. I'm sorry. I think maybe I've given you the wrong impression here. I'm really just interested in—"
Maya stepped forward again until John's back was almost against the wall. He sighed deeply, once again smelling cedar wood and flowers on her hair, before he pushed her away with as much force as he dared use.
"Maya? Are you in here?" A rough voice yelled from just outside. Maya leapt backward, but not before the door swung open and the tall, rough-looking man that had been with her in the tavern the night before stepped inside. He looked between John and Maya for a split second, and then his face creased into a frown.
"What is going on here?" he yelled, his neck flushing red with anger.
"It is not what you think, Izyan," Maya answered. "He is an explorer, curious about the ruins. He was merely asking for help in searching the place."
"He was standing pretty close for someone who was merely asking for help," Izyan sneered.
"I know what this probably looks like, but nothing happened," John said, grimacing even as he said it. He cringed as Izyan's eyes narrowed and the man took a threatening step toward John.
"Sheppard, you okay?" Ronon's voice floated into the tense room, and John breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the runner just outside the doorway.
"I was just leaving here," John answered Ronon but he looked forcibly at Izyan. The man glared back at John, then slowly stepped away from the door. John slipped past him without a word and made his way back to the front of the tavern. Ronon followed him quietly, but when John turned toward his friend, he saw that the runner was smirking at him.
"What?" he snapped.
Ronon shrugged, biting into a piece of fruit.
"I was just…asking her questions about the ruins and possibly getting some help," John clarified, feeling his cheeks grow hot.
Ronon only smiled wider. John glanced back at Maya's shed in time to see Izyan glare at John before making a some type of gesture with his hand and storming off in the other direction. John had never seen that particular gesture, but he could guess what it meant.
He leaned closer to Ronon, feeling the need to explain himself. "Look, I was just talking to her and then she tried to make a move on me."
Ronon raised his eyebrow at that and glanced back toward the shed.
"Not a word of this to McKay," John murmured. A few seconds later, they joined the scientist in question and Teyla. He smiled as Teyla handed him one of the apple-like fruits she'd gotten from the street vendor.
"I'd say this whole canvass-the-town plan is going to be a monstrous waste of time, but that would be pessimistic of me," McKay said between bites of his own piece of fruit. "I really don't think I can bear to hear another story like the one we got last night…Hey, some woman is waving at us."
John glanced back to see Maya leaning in the doorframe of her shed, the coy smile back in place.
"She's kind of hot, actually," McKay continued.
"She's not waving at us. Can we get to work now?" He waited for McKay to snap back at him, but the man's focus would not be averted.
"No, I'm pretty sure she is. Do you think she wants to tell us something?"
"Not 'us,'" Ronon said, then stared pointedly at John.
McKay glanced at Ronon, then John, then back to the woman in the door. John cringed when he saw the scientist's eyes suddenly lit up in understanding. "You were Kirking her!"
"I was not Kirking her, Rodney."
"You were! She's waving at you. You were totally flirting with her. What is it with you and alien women? We can't take you anywhere. You've been out here on your own for what? Five minutes? Unbelievable…"
"McKay," John warned. "Drop it. You and Ronon head that way, see if you can round up some locals to help us out. Teyla, you're with me."
The others nodded, and John pushed past his teammates to begin the search. Teyla quickly fell into step beside him. As Ronon and McKay walked off in the opposite direction, he could hear the scientist pumping Ronon for as much information on the woman as he could. He grimaced, shaking his head.
This was going to be a long day.