Dougal was happily enjoying his repast. It took his mind off of his failure earlier today. His group had attacked and destroyed, but he did not think he had destroyed all of what he came to destroy. Laskey, it seems, would have the last laugh. How long would it be before watcher bastards sought to even the score? They would be able to as well. He had mistakenly thought that all watchers were like the craven coward Laskey, but even Laskey had showed some spine. Somehow, he would have to rectify his dire error as fast as possible. Once the watchers had scoped the information they now had, they would be doing some verification of various people and cells. Once they found out that all was not well, they would deal with it in a harsh manner. He and the others would be found out. He had killed that couple because their baby looked so succulent. It was everything he had hoped it would be. He was so intent upon his repast he ignored the sounds from below. He did not even bother to take his eyes from the leg he was eating until he heard the scrape of metal across roof tile. He looked up to see someone facing him with a drawn sword.
Duncan walked slowly and quietly towards the seated individual. He looked all around the area for anyone else. It appeared that they were alone. That was a good thing. He made the mistake of looking down when he caught a strong scent of offal. It was a baby. A HUMAN baby! A DEAD human baby torn into several pieces! One arm had been gnawed almost clean and both of its legs were missing. One leg was lying by the seated individual. Where was the other leg….unless that was what the person was EATING? The person looked up from their repast, face smeared with blood. Some had even stuck to their hair. The hand holding the grisly repast was also blood covered. Duncan felt his gorge rise…this could not be possible. This was so OBSCENE that, for a moment, he could not adequately place it in his paradigm. Was the redhead a cannibal? Then he absorbed it with many conflicting thoughts; this was not the time to be ill over any sort of depredation. He actually did come here initially to chat, but now he knew he would not bother to do so. He was here to kill that…obscenity seated where they were. This bastard had nearly killed his friend; this bastard also was killing watchers indiscriminately. To get his attention, Duncan ran the tip of his katana over some of the roof covering. It worked well enough. The redhead looked up to see Duncan only ten or so feet away from him.
Duncan spoke first. "Who are you and what in hell are you doing?!"
The redhead smiled a bloody smile at him. "What does it look like, stupid? I am enjoying a decent meal; I have not had one for a while. Too much work to do and all that." The redhead tore off another piece of the baby. Duncan noticed that they were drinking wine with their repast.
"You are eating another human being. What in HELL sort of obscenity are you!"
The redhead no longer was smiling. "I resent you insulting my personage in that way. Perhaps you will join me? There is plenty enough for two here. If not, then please take your puerile, ludicrous self away from here along with your stupid looking sword. The nerve of some youngling pests!" As if Duncan was not there, the redhead went back to eating.
"Dawson, contact has been made. If this can be believed, the redhead looks like he is eating a human baby. McLeod already has his sword out. You want a video feed?"
Dawson sighed, "I am asking you…do I? Yes, give me a feed; I am glad I haven't eaten recently."
Duncan was circling the redhead now. "I know who you are, Dougal."
Dougal laughed, "I seriously doubt you do; that is, no more than a name. It's more than a youngling deserves. And what exactly are you going to do with that sword?" Dougal laughed again as he reached for his wine goblet. Next to it was a small duffel bag and his sword. Dougal drank deeply of the wine. "How is it that you got past the people on the lower floors?"
"They are dead; they blocked me from coming up to the roof where I was told you would be."
"I think I have heard your name too. What is it…Dungheap McClod or some such? It is of no matter. You are interfering with my repast. Go away…I may let you live a while longer." Dougal was staring at Duncan with a slightly perturbed expression.
"What does a monk have to do with you? Or Bronwyn?"
Dougal's face lost all expression of nicety and joviality. "You DARE speak her name? And also that of the Destroyer?" Dougal put down his leg and wiped his hand on a cloth nearby.
"What if I do, you bastard? I think you are afraid of the monk, that is if that is what he is. Somehow, I do not think he was a monk all the time. Where are the others? I have names; now I am going to find out WHAT and WHY!" Duncan stood there eyeing Dougal, ready for any trick.
Dougal glared at Duncan and picked up his sword. Suddenly Duncan realized that he had NOT felt Dougal as he approached him. Now he was able to do so. A discordant feeling suffused through his being as he felt something like a wave of vertigo course through him. He fought down the feeling with all of his being.
As he did so he heard Dougal scream, "WE were OLD LONG before you were even BORN! I do NOT have to TELL you ANYTHING!"
Duncan had finally reached his boiling point as he brought up his sword, murder in his eyes. "Then you die tonight, you bastard." Duncan crossed the gap between them as he struck with his sword. Dougal quickly evaded and countered. Metal upon metal now echoed across the roof of the building.
"Dawson, they have joined the battle! What do you want us to do?"
"Stay the hell out of it. Let's see how things fall." Dawson was not feeling too optimistic about his friend though. I hope you did not bite off more than you can chew, McLeod.
Duncan was not so sure about the path he had chosen. This bastard was smirking at him as he parried all of his blows while giving almost no ground. He on the other hand had some superficial cuts that gave off an acrid smell as they ruined his shirt. He had cast off his jacket so as he could fight unencumbered, but it seemed that he was outmatched. He managed to cut Dougal once, but as he watched, the wound healed in almost an instant. Dougal was so smug and assured of himself, he was taunting Duncan.
"Come on now, stupid, can't you fight any better than that?"
Duncan knew the comments were made to enrage. If rage overtook him, he was dead. Dougal was faster on his feet then Duncan; as far as Duncan could see, he was outclassed at every turn. He missed a sword blow and left himself open. He received a painful cut across his upper right arm. Dougal stepped in and disarmed Duncan; his katana flew over and stuck in an air vent, its power of flight made it vibrate up and down before finally being still.
"Now you lost your sword! Why did you do such a foolish thing like that! I wonder, would you taste good with my wine?" Duncan fled the general area, taking refuge behind a structure on the roof. "No, no, you are not going to run away from this, stupid youngling! I am going to cut off your head! That is what you pay for so rudely interrupting me!"
Dougal ran around the structure with his sword out. Dougal struck at Duncan's neck, but Duncan ducked and kicked Dougal as hard as he could. Anyone skilled in unarmed combat could have blocked that blow, he thought. Maybe they are not? Duncan was without his sword, so he figured he had nothing to lose. His kick bought him some time. He ran out into the central area again with Dougal not far behind. Duncan rolled forward at the same time he angled to the side. Spinning his legs around, he impacted Dougal on the side of his knee, knocking Dougal down. Dougal attempted to get his sword, but now Duncan was upon him. Dougal was probably the better swordsman, but unfortunately for him, he had little skill in unarmed combat. Duncan smashed his fist into Dougal's face; he needed to keep him from his sword. Next, he grabbed Dougal and threw him into another structure on the building's roof. He then began to systemically pummel and beat Dougal until his clothes were in tatters. Dougal made a feint to try to get his sword again, but Duncan tripped him heavily. He was sort of surprised when Dougal tried to bite him; Dougal's teeth were all filed to points. Duncan remembered what Amanda had suffered, so he had no intention of letting that happen. Duncan clamped his right hand around Dougal's throat; it provided sufficient leverage to keep his teeth away from him. Dougal was trying to punch Duncan, but the blows had little effect. Duncan head-butted Dougal hard and heard his nose break. He then kicked Dougal off of him so that he smashed into an antenna array on the building. Duncan rose up to his feet and quickly scanned the area for his weapon. Dougal was infuriated.
"How DARE you fight like a simple beast! I will not suffer your hands upon me again!"
He saw Duncan's sword the same time Duncan did; they both ran for the blade. Dougal reached it a fraction sooner, but Duncan was right behind him. He smashed Dougal full force into the air vent, making some nasty dents in the metal. He cast Dougal to the ground, and then pulled out his katana. Dougal was disoriented for a second, and then found his own sword. He ran over and picked it up; he only barely blocked a blow Duncan delivered. Once more, it fell to swordplay, but Duncan now had a game plan. Now he was forcing Dougal to attack him; he either blocked with his sword, or kicked and punched. When Dougal made to run for the stairwell, Duncan blocked his path. They faced each other, Dougal with a look of rage mixed with some actual fear; Duncan simply grim. Duncan twirled his katana with authority. Dougal raised his left hand and point it at Duncan. Duncan had seen Amanda do the same thing before, so he rolled out of the path of the tendril of quickening fire. Dougal was getting careless, or possibly desperate. Once again, Duncan felt that sickening feeling of vertigo again, but he fought past it. He then hatched a desperate idea to win this battle. He rolled towards Dougal, making him think he did not see his sword extended. Duncan impaled himself on the sword, but he was now inside Dougal's guard. With Dougal's sword impaling him, Dougal could not raise it to block his blow. Dougal's smirk changed to a look of surprise as Duncan struck with all of his strength. Fortunately, his katana was sharp enough to cleave Dougal's head from his shoulders.
The head rolled to the ground and stopped; the surprised look remained upon it. Duncan slumped to his knees, almost totally spent. With a grimace of agony, he pulled out the sword embedded in his abdomen. The pain immediately began to abate, but he would not be running or walking for a while. The headless body did not fall; it stood there as if it was still alive. Its hand had dropped from the sword as Duncan felt the static feeling he was used to. When he looked around, he saw no quickening energy moving around like it usually did. It all seemed to be concentrated in Dougal's neck. It grew brighter and brighter; Duncan had to shield his eyes from the glare. An ominous rumbling started from underneath his feet. It was actually all over, the whole building was rumbling. The quickening power was not bolts of lightning, either; it poured from Dougal's neck and oozed across the rooftop. More and more fled from the corpse until it all had leached out. The corpse collapsed to the ground. Duncan was aware of a wind picking up in speed as he looked around. Where in the hell is the quickening? Duncan happened to look down at his feet. They were awash in more of a solid glow than a quickening fire; it had covered the rooftop as well. As Duncan watched, the glow crept up his legs and torso and to his neck. Odd, I do not feel the wound in my abdomen anymore. Then his whole world went white as he was picked up like a rag doll and slammed across the roof….
"Dawson, we have what appears to be a quickening! It is not like any we have seen before, though. It is engulfing the building! The building may collapse!" The caller had filmed the fight on his camera and had patched the feed to Dawson. The building which had been non-descript before was now capped with a bright cover that was leaking down through the stories to the ground. Damn it all, Dawson thought, so much for hiding from mortals; that has got to be visible for miles.
"Keep monitoring your post. Stay the hell away from anyone approaching that area. I am going to be busy for a while, so this will be my last contact for the interim." Dawson terminated the call, and then powered off the phone. Most of the damage had been cleaned up to the watcher HQ, but his new escorts were taking no chances. Dawson had been spirited away to a very closely guarded location in NYC. No less than 20 heavily armed guards were in the immediate area. Paddy was in the hospital from his wounds. 16 watchers and guards killed. Dawson felt a moment of sorrow for the fallen, but he needed to see what information was on the CDs he had been sent. To either side of him, a senior watcher member sat. The three of them gazed intently at the screen as Dawson opened the first file. Prior to doing anything though, his system was backed up to guard against any accidents. The largest file was almost one gig in size, so it took a few moments to load. "I guess these are immortals they were tracking over there." He had a colleague call up his database on another machine. None of the names in the new database were in the old one.
"Sir, it is asking us if we want to combine or link the databases."
"Do not combine them. We need to figure out who these people are first."
"Maybe they are the unidentified immortals that have been cropping up?"
Dawson looked at his colleague. "It's worth a shot." He called up a list of the immortals for which they had no record.
"Sir, we are getting repeated matches! How about if we link that file to the main database? That way we can have one file of all of them and the separate file as well." A few strokes on the keyboard and it was done. Laskey's first file contained info on more than 300 immortals of which the watchers had no idea existed. Once the filtering occurred, they had over 70 matches, most of those were deceased. That left a large number of them unidentified at the moment. Dawson loaded the second file. This had only 70 entries total. Several more of the unidentified immortals were in this database. The third file had only 14 entries in it. Two of them had deceased by their profiles. Dawson identified the head Duncan brought them as another in this small database. The red-haired leader of the invasion was also listed as well. Unlike the first and second database, this one had numerous lines of commentary concerning most of the entries. Three of them looked decidedly non-human. There was a group of eight then a group of six.
"How in HELL did they pull this off?"
Dawson was not in a good mood. What in hell was going on? Dawson shrugged his shoulders. At least they had the information. He intended to make good use of it. It was no real matter to pull up what watchers were where. Dawson gave some direct and explicit orders. The list of watcher cells now on his PC was now all considered suspect. He quickly contacted other watchers who volunteered to check out all the places listed. When one asked what to do if there were any problems at any of the locations, Dawson spoke,
"You might want to bring some axes along. If they hit you, hit back hard. If its corrupted watchers…..do what needs to be done. We need to get this under control."
Dawson turned his cell phone back on. He listened to the voice mails he had been left. The quickening that happened regarding McLeod was anything but subtle.
It was largely due to the events of September 11 that minimized any visibility of watcher and immortal from the quickening. After some people phoned in the glowing rooftop, the powers that be moved into action. All that it took was someone to mention the word 'terrorist'. The area involved was one that was up for urban renewal, so in jig time, law enforcement had the area cordoned off on the ground and in the air. Some spectacular footage was shot when the glowing building collapsed in a blast of light; its collapse also damaged structures in the immediate facility. The end result was a few more pork laden demolition contracts after a CSI team was sent in due to finding some bodies in the rubble, including that of a newborn and a decapitated redhead. That solved a rather grisly crime, but they never found out what exactly happened there. There was a minor surge in the news when the redhead's body had disappeared, but after a few sound bites for the local politicians decrying terrorism, the matter was filed away into obscurity.
He became aware by degrees. An attempt to move an arm brought a scream of agony, and then the pain seemed to suddenly abate. He pulled his arm out of the rubble; the sweater they were wearing had been badly abraded. He looked at his arm. There was no reason that he should have suffered any pain; the arm was whole. He coughed as he tried to clear the air of smoke and other such detritus. It took a few tries, but he managed to first get to his knees, then stagger erect. Where was he and what happened? He could not seem to clear his head to think. Something was stuck on his foot. He jerked his foot free then looked down. He pulled out a small duffel bag from the ruins. More by reflex then through any conscious action, he hooked it over his shoulder. Next he saw something glinting on the ground. He pulled up a sword. It had an appealing design to it. He whipped it through the air a few times. He liked how it felt. He then saw another gleam a little farther away. It was another sword. He decided he did not like it, but he put it with the first one he had found. He pulled another something from the rubble. It was a coat of some sort. He was a little chilly. The coat seemed to fit him perfectly once he tried it on. Off in the immediate distance, he saw lights and heard wailing noises. He initially took a step in that direction, and then he halted. I do not want to be seen by them. How did he know this? What had happened here?Everywhere he looked, he saw only destruction, from splintered wood to chunks of stony material. Well, if he was not going to approach the lights and noises, he had better get out of here, because the lights and noises seemed to be converging on where he was. Slowly at first, but with increasing speed, he headed away from the rubble of the building. He silently crossed the street into a not so damaged building, and so he was able to avoid the cordoning off maneuver that the police had put into action.
He had no idea where he was going or how far he had gone, but he felt that he could rest a bit where he was. There seemed to be a lot more people here; that made him feel comfortable. He found an alley which even if its smells were not pleasant, allowed him a respite from his travels. He flopped down on a decrepit old chair. The swords clanked together when he released them. He put his head into his hands. Try as he might, he could not think clearly. He yawned as he looked around. Maybe rest was a good idea. In no time, he was asleep.
Wales
Dhurgal awoke from where he was sleeping. He had headed south after his failure at the hillfort. He remembered paying some money to stay at the inn where he was; he also was here for other reasons: this was home. There were farm fields where his clan house used to be, but after all this time, he still remembered. It was there that he had felt at home. His awakening this time had been sudden, though; not the gradual awakening one would get from peaceful slumber. In his dreams he fought and feasted repeatedly on succulent young children. Not all of his dreams were peaceful though. One dream was a battle he had with HIM. His larger size and reach did little to help him. It was only sheer luck that allowed him to keep his head that time. They never feared him; when they saw him, they came at him at a dead run with that accursed black sword. They had beaten him down into the ground. Now he was awake all of a sudden, and soon he realized why. Something had gone wrong….Dougal was dead…DEAD! He let loose an animal like howl as he pounded his bed with his fists. It looked like he would have to confront HIM, a task he did not relish. But as he calmed down, he felt something else. He had somewhere else to go. He got his belongings together and left the inn. He caught a ferry to Ireland. He KNEW where he had to go. He was not prepared to go out and actively seek HIM, so he would have to wait for HIM to arrive. He got a room close by where he had to go; he decided to wait for nightfall.
He was thinking he was having a dream; it seemed like one anyways. He was walking over a greensward of sorts; occasionally he would see some sort of menhirs jutting up through the ground. Up ahead, he saw someone sitting on a piece of stone. He walked up to them.
"Where am I? And who are you?"
The person turned to them. His hair was a flaming red and his eyes were a piercing green. Their face was smeared in blood due to what they were eating. It was the leg of a human male, probably from a child. The person snickered at him, "This is what you get for interfering, youngling!" The redhead vomited a river of blood at him. He failed to see the significance of that action, so he sidestepped the torrent.
"That is not an answer, you bastard. Who are you and where am I?"
The redhead was enraged all of a sudden. They leaped off the rock with their sword ready to strike. He parried the blow. Soon, they battled back and forth over the greensward. Why am I doing this, he thought. Did I not already do this? He had no problem keeping the swordsman at bay. It was almost too easy. The redheaded individual became more and more enraged as they kept on the attack.
"You never should have beat me, youngling! I will not suffer that ignominy again. I will become you rather then perish!" He digested this information as he easily parried the redhead. Suddenly something clicked in his mind. "If I already killed you, then you can't be alive."
He disarmed the redhead then ran him through with his sword. He pulled out his sword as the redhead staggered. He swept off their head. The redhead disappeared. He continued walking on the greensward, but nothing else seemed to change. Then he saw the redhead running towards him again. He easily blocked their stroke. He struck again, severing their head. Once more they disappeared. This happened several more times as he kept walking in the same direction. Then he saw a large number of the redheads running at him. For some reason, he was not afraid. He was surrounded by duplicates of himself. They all moved forward and decapitated the redheads. He now approached a structure. It looked rather odd. As he came to its entrance though, the door slammed open and more redheads emerged with swords. He gave up fighting them sword to sword and went to just lopping off their heads. Their swords caused him no distress. The scene rippled like glass then shattered in accompaniment to a loud shriek…..
He awoke in the dingy chair he had found. He wiped clammy sweat from his brow then sat up. He felt slightly better, but try as he might, he could not focus on a clear thought. It was as if his mind was cluttered with too much information. Scene after scene flickered through his mind and he seemed to have no way to control it. He took several calming breaths. Let's try something simple at first. He attempted to blank his mind from the bombardment of information.
I am…
He managed to get that far before all the thoughts swarmed in. That was not bad for a first try
I am….Duncan…
It took a lot of effort to even get that much out, but he felt he was making headway
I am….Duncan….McLeod!
Duncan snapped erect. He had thought he had heard a scream, but upon looking around, he could see no evidence of that. Slowly, by degrees, he pieced things together in his mind as to what happened. Was that another dark quickening? He mentally checked himself out. No, he was still who he was; when he had the dark quickening, he was not in control of his faculties or actions. Since he was in control, it was not one of those, thank god. Is this what Amanda suffered when she cut off the head of Bronwyn? If so, why did he not suffer the same fate? He was much more seasoned then Amanda, and Dougal had not bit him. Perhaps that was why. Still, that was one hell of a quickening. The clanking of metal made Duncan look inside his coat. He not only had his sword but also Dougal's. He also now had a small satchel with a shoulder strap. Inside was a rather battered tome full of pictures. Those are hieroglyphs. Now how in the hell did he know that? They were like none he had ever seen before. There was some modern currency in there. The last thing he pulled out was a half circlet that looked like silver. It had a rune of some sorts engraved in it, but nothing else of note. Haha….it was hers…I took it as I cut off her head…after we had our way with her! Duncan snapped erect. What in hell was going on here? It was as if someone was talking to him, but no one was present. He put it aside for the moment; he felt well enough to travel. He needed a shower and a change of clothes.
Duncan made it back to his hotel room with no further incident. He felt a lot better once he was clean. He tossed the ruined shirt into the garbage. He debated as to whether he should call anyone. He sighed and activated his phone. He dialed back the number Dawson used earlier. He left a terse message then hung up. He once again dwelled upon his earlier dilemma. Who in hell had he killed tonight?
Dougal Ap Hwywd. Duncan whirled around to inspect his hotel room. Was he going insane? It was that voice again. It seemed to be in an odd language as well, almost like singing. Well, that is how the Eldritch tongue sounds when properly spoken!
Right, elf speech. Elves were a myth.
Considering the Ap Hwywds have elven blood in their line, I would think not. That was what it sounded like.
It was as if the one he had killed was talking to him! How was that possible? They were DEAD.
Yes, but not their memories of what they knew. I am part of you now, for good…or bad!
Duncan thought upon that for a moment; that sort of made sense. What in hell is an Ap Hwywd?
Our clan.
Okay, then who in hell was that person in a monk's robe?
That is NO Monk, no matter what he calls himself! That is the DESTROYER!
That tells me nothing.
They were the chieftain of another clan….Ap Anon. Ardis Ap Anon.
They have not used clan delineation for centuries.
Centuries? Haha…try millennia, stupid
.Millenia? Methos was supposed to be the oldest immortal!
Yes…after he was forced to take up that distinction. I was surprised Ardis made it work, after all. He BLACKMAILED us! We never forgot!
The cannibalism? No, no…that was the original penalty of which we became accused. Had it not been for a foolish oversight, we never would have been caught. We killed his queen as well. For that, he sought our deaths. Our clan was over 100 when he attacked…..only eight of us escaped that day. He killed the rest.
Duncan took a second to digest this information. What was the big deal? It was only a chieftainship over a clan?
No, stupid! Ardis was not just a Chieftain. He was Caeltom Könige!
And that was what? Amazing an idiot youngling got this far! King over ALL the Celtic Clans! That should have gone to us!
There is no history to show that at any time there was a single king over all the tribes or clans or people!
Considering the war between our clans was started in 3500 B.C., I would think there would be no records.
And elves? They are solely of myth.
The Daoine Na Sidhe existed as well. You now can understand and speak their tongue.
Duncan wanted to stop and digest what he now knew, but he forged on. What in hell was that monk carrying? It looks like iron, but is darker.
He slaughtered us with that sword.
It is said he forged it himself, as well as his armor.
That is plausible. He was a good blacksmith.
Why in hell did this war start between you and yours and the watchers?
Haha! We will suffer no watchers; nor will Ardis. We haven't directly fought for the most part since he blackmailed us into signing a truce of sorts. We honestly felt we had sufficient numbers to destroy him forever, but his penchant for destruction has not abated. Then, of course, you and your friend interfered. Enjoy what life you have left! Dhurgal and Clydweth are still alive!
The inner voice seemed to be fading, but Duncan was not through yet. What did the monk mean by King's Justice?
If one demands such before a high king, it must be carried out regardless; a most onerous task. This will not be done until we are ALL dead!
I can now see why he was a little upset. What did you do to provoke him?
We found a mortal descendant of ours to do a little pilfering. Of course, they botched that as well.
And why did he declare King's Justice against your clan?
We were eating a child when we were caught. Before the parents could be stopped, they went before the King and accused us of that crime. We did not answer the summons to show innocence, so he went to our clan house. He killed almost all of us there. We killed his queen after we had raped her. For the cannibalism, banishment. For the killing of the queen, death. King's Justice was demanded by the slain child's mother.
What did he use to blackmail you? The voice in his head had dwindled to silence. It seemed that he would get no more easy answers then he already had, but he now had a lot more than he had before. Shortly after, he was fast asleep, his sword by his side.
Duncan slept until he felt like getting up, something he usually did not do. He made a strong cup of coffee before getting dressed. His cell phone chimed. "This is MacLeod."
"Duncan! It's Dawson! I got your message; is everything all right?"
"Well, my head is still attached, I think that means something. I guess there was a quickening last night, but I do not remember too much of it."
"Hell yes there was one; it leveled the whole goddamn building. What in hell is going on here? We have some lists of immortals we never knew existed, amongst other issues."
"I have some answers; I got them from the one who I killed. When can we meet?"
"The powers that be here are not too keen on that idea, Duncan."
"That is tough. I am not telling what I know over a phone. You choose the place and time; I will be there." Duncan disconnected at that point.
