XXI – Talthos.

"Millions of years ago, the first human beings were very different from what we are. But Nature handled the evolution of those men down through the centuries, shaping them to adapt to the changing world. Immortals also undergo a period of evolution.

"However, this evolution is not external. It is not like a ten thousand year old immortal will walk hunchedly and his arms will be large and strong enough to lift a heavy axe with a single hand.

"The evolution is a process that occurs within the immortal. It takes time. That is why sometimes we feel different sensations when different immortals approach. The way I felt Kenny was different from the one I feel when Cassandra comes nearby."

"Very interesting." Connor commented acidly. "So?"

"Do you remember 1985, Connor?" Methos countered. "When you believed the time of the Gathering had come, when you defeated the Kurgan? You had foolishly believed you had become the last one, so you got married and moved to Scotland."

Connor felt his chest tighten. The memories of what had happened to his late wife slapped him hard in the face. He wanted to punch Methos for bringing up the subject, but inside, he knew he deserved it. "Yes."

"You didn't notice anything odd when you received the Quickening of..." Methos looked down, then up again. "In the parking lot of the Madison Square Garden."

"Iman Fasil." Connor grunted. "Now that I think about it, it was different. There were no thunderbolts, just a light that illuminated me as the Quickening took me."

"Precisely."

"But Fasil and I were more or less the same age."

"But according to the old Watchers' files, he beheaded an immortal that was eleven thousand years old by the time Fasil killed him."

"So you're saying that Fasil's Quickening was affected by that other immortal's?" Cassandra joined the argument.

"And by every other immortal's he beheaded."

"And what does this have to do with... Talthos?" Duncan asked.

"Talthos is an old immortal that has chains to other realms. He is able to contact spirits and other metaphysical entities."

"Such as?"

"It doesn't really matter." Methos rose from the bed. "He has defeated Ahriman before. And in so doing, he became a threat much larger to mankind than Ahriman itself."

"Where was he all this time?"

"Around as all of us. Getting ready. Ahriman's victory must have set him in motion."

"How come?" Amy had only thought of asking, but the words had popped out of her mouth. "How come he is a threat?"

"Talthos has another peculiar ability, one I barely control, and one you were not able to learn thus far."

"He can channel?" Duncan did not understand what was so hazardous in that, and his voice revealed it.

"At a level beyond what any immortal is able to." Cassandra added.

"What do you mean?" Connor was feeling the fingers of his left hand moving. He did not like it. Because he was not moving them. He knew that the feeling he despised the most was triggering such involuntary motion: fear.

"He can keep it away from himself... indefinitely. Locked away, to be more precise."

Duncan couldn't avoid guffawing at that. However, he felt embarrassed when he noticed that nobody, not even Connor, was laughing.

"You say that he has a safe box where he stores the Quickening." Amy muttered as she shivered.

"Not a box." Methos stood up, having regained some composure. "It's a sword."

"A sword?" Alex had been intently listening.

"Yes. One of those unique weapons like those that are source of legend." Methos replied seriously.

"Legend?"

"Like Excalibur, or the swords of Beowulf."

"You're saying that those swords exist?!?"

"That is irrelevant." Connor cut her. "How did Talthos defeat Ahriman?"

Methos eyed Connor differently than before. Where the Highlander had found minutes ago a little defiance and contempt, now he found a strange look of respect and recognition.

"I can't be certain."

"He sends the Quickening to the sword..." Connor began to flutter around the room. His face revealed a growing concern with mixed with an apprehensive dread. "... And he surfaced again when Ahriman won..." He stopped and stared at Methos apologetically. He understood.

"Exactly." Cassandra saw also in Connor's eyes. "He will channel the Quickening out of the sword when he faces Ahriman."

"And what's the problem with that?" Duncan inquired, any joy gone of him.

"As I told Rose, this is your struggle. You are the one that has to defeat Ahriman." Methos scolded.

"But Methos..." Duncan stepped forward. "I lost."

"You're still the only one who can defeat him."

"Why's that?"

"We don't make the rules, Duncan." Cassandra interceded. "We just abide by them."

"And what if Talthos defeats Ahriman...?"

"He won't. He just doesn't know it." Methos let the words out in a rush of impotence. "And if he releases the Quickening contained in the sword... then there will not be a single mortal left in the surface of Earth."

"That means that we have to stop Talthos at any cost before he confronts Ahriman." Connor said with a certain belligerence.

Methos nodded silently. "We'll have to move. Pack what you need. Amy, you stay with Heather..." He noticed that Amy's look darkened upon the mention of the girl. "What is it?"

"She disappeared." Her eyes strained, fighting back tears. "The Quickening woke me up. I rushed to her room. She was not there. I came here and found all this." She gestured weakly at the two corpses.

"Do you think that Talthos...?" Duncan stammered, rage surging in his voice.

"I don't see why." Methos eyed at Connor, who seemed frozen in thought. He noticed there was something that was out of place for the Highlander. He felt the same. Why would Talthos hold the girl hostage? "You all, go pack."

Alex, all rage and hatred gone off her, went first. Amy followed, gazing with concern at Methos. Duncan slowly left the room, his eyes fixed upon his clansman, who concealed his concerns, faked a grin and joined him on the way out.

Only Cassandra and Methos remained. Methos seemed uneasy, victim of the sudden confession of many things he thought he would never have to disclose. He was staring at some random point in the floor. She approached slowly and caressed the left side of his face. His face bent slightly to regard her and his mouth formed a smirk of distress.

"I know what you're thinking, Methos." She said in a voice as loud as a whisper. She moved too close to him, her mouth ending up very close to his. "Why did Talthos come here?"

"Indeed." He said detachedly, barely conscious of her certainty. His eyes fixed on her.

"Why didn't you tell them the rest about Talthos?"

"Because..." Methos eyed her with fondness. "They must not ponder that at the moment of the battle. Otherwise..."

"Do you think there's still hope for us?" she hissed sadly.

"Defeating Talthos is... complicated. And Ahriman is a wholly different thing."

She staggered back. She daintily let his hand off his face. Tears welled in her eyes. She held them at bay. She stiffed her lips and left the room. Methos watched her go and clenched his fists in rage.

He had wanted to say that the two of them could have a bright future together if they made it through. He knew that she had finally forgiven him. But he also knew that that life together would be impossible. Neither because the past would creep up on them as grudges or recriminations, nor because they were immortals, and their very nature would eventually turn them against each other. Merely because one of them would not survive...