Chapter 20
Methos led Duncan and Cassandra quickly through the maze of barriers to the door that had granted them entry. Grasping the handle, he shook it and frowned.
"Locked." He cursed quietly but didn't look terribly surprised.
"Emergency exit?" Duncan asked, looking around for one.
"I think we can count on it being locked, too," Methos said bitterly. "So much for the best-laid plans. Kronos certainly got the drop on me this time."
Cassandra's mind flashed back to the day she had followed Methos to learn where he lived, and to his other, mortal follower. Something close to – but not quite – guilt washed over her like a gentle rain.
"We need to get to the swords," Methos was saying.
"Swords?" Cassandra echoed, expecting Duncan to be as bewildered as she.
"The ones under the catwalk stairs should still be there," Duncan said. "The one from the barrel is probably out on the floor near the base, unless Kronos grabbed it while I was out." Neither he nor the old man noticed Cassandra's look of slowly building anger as she realized she'd been left out on the weaponry information.
Methos began handing out some of the trinkets he'd gathered on his trip across the playing field, just in case something came up before they could reach the swords. To Duncan, he gave a bowie knife, a shortsword, and a hatchet. Cassandra received a police-issue nightstick, another throwing knife, a dagger, and a revolver. She wondered what he had kept for himself, other than the knife she could see tucked behind him.
"Stick together," he said, and they hurried across the playing field toward the northeast corner.
The music changed as they traveled, and Van Halen's "Running With the Devil" played as the three made it to the catwalk stairs without incident. Cassandra knew it wouldn't be long before Caspian, at least, revived, and she kept glancing nervously back at their base. Seeing both Duncan and Methos reaching under the stairs to retrieve a pair of swords, she felt a resurgence of anger about being kept in the dark about the weapons. She opened her mouth to complain, but saw Duncan's eyes widen abruptly. Before she could turn to see what had captured his attention, Methos body-slammed her to the floor, and the stroke of Silas' ax barely missed her.
"Silas, stop!" Methos remained on the floor as a protective drape over Cassandra.
"I only wanted to help you, Methos!" boomed the big immortal, somehow managing to be plaintive and wounded even at that volume and with the enormous ax in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Silas. I didn't want to hurt you, but I can't go back to that life. I'm not the man you used to ride with anymore!" Cassandra sensed his desperation to make the only Horseman for whom he'd ever felt real affection understand his actions.
Silas shook his head sadly. "You've only lost your way, brother. We want to help you find it again." He eyed Duncan and Cassandra hatefully. "It's this lot's got you confused, turned you away from your path, from who you are." The ax began to rise...
"Silas!" Methos stood and brandished his sword. Cassandra could see the reluctant resolve in his eyes. Duncan clearly saw it, too, and he stepped forward, putting his right shoulder between Methos and Silas.
"Take her and find the other sword!" cried Duncan. "I'll deal with him."
The oldest immortal hesitated, but there was relief in his face. With a last look at the huge man with the ax, he said regretfully, "Good-bye, Silas."
"I'll see you soon, brother," growled Silas, aiming his ax toward the Scot.
Methos grabbed Cassandra's hand and they dashed toward their base. Cassandra knew it was not a good time, but she couldn't seem to restrain herself. "Why didn't you tell me about the swords?"
"You didn't seem able to handle any more information at the time." Methos never slowed, nor did he allow her to. "I was trying to protect you." They were twenty feet from the barrels.
"By leaving me defenseless?" She shouted even knowing he could hear her at normal volume.
"You were never defenseless. MacLeod had you in sight at all times." Ten feet now.
"A lot of good that did. We'd both be dead if – "
Methos whirled toward her, stopping, and let go of her hand. "I misjudged everything, all right, Cassandra? I thought I had the bases covered, and I was wrong. I put my friends at risk in a foolish plan, and we may all die because of it. I acknowledge fully and completely the breadth and depth of my folly. What else do you want from me?"
They remained facing each other, not squared off for combat, but two people seeking to find the route to honest, essential communication, that there might be understanding between them once and for all. His final question echoed in her mind. What else did she want from him...?
"Look out!" she screamed, pulling him toward her as Caspian came over the low wall, sword in hand. He was a leering, lethal fiend, making cuts in the air with the blade before his feet even touched the floor.
"Methos!" he said, making the name sound like an insult. "I'd take your head in a second, but Kronos wants you alive. So I'll be content with slicing through your pathetic heart before I gut your woman." Caspian's eyes glittered as he spoke.
Armed with the sword, Methos pushed Cassandra behind him and adopted a ready stance. His face betrayed surprise when she edged around him and put her hand on the hilt, over his.
"Let me have him," she said. His expression told her there was fire in her eyes, and the thought made her nerve endings tingle pleasantly. "You go find the other sword before Kronos wakes up."
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Her eyes were those of a woman with new purpose, though he had no time to
evaluate what had brought about this circumstance, or to argue with her.
Releasing the hilt, Methos was obliged to dodge two
of Caspian's vicious swipes while trying to find a way to get to the barrels.
He feinted convincingly to his right, causing Caspian to over-commit, then pivoted and snaked around to his left. As he passed, he ducked with tremendous agility and avoided a lateral swipe, but Caspian's foot caught his ankle, bringing him thudding to the floor.
I have got to pay more attention to tripping, he thought.
From his new, low vantage point, Methos was amazed to note that Caspian – now about to pin him to the floor with a vertical thrust – had actually turned his back to Cassandra. Didn't he realize she had the sword? As the blade descended toward him, seemingly in slow motion, but in reality too fast to avoid, it occurred to Methos that for Caspian, Cassandra was still the helpless slave, a human plaything that would be waiting timidly for him when he disabled Methos.
The Horseman learned otherwise when her sword ably deflected the killing thrust meant for his brother. Methos allowed himself a small grin at Caspian's look of shock, his eyes and mouth all making O's on his face. He scrambled to his feet and headed for the barrels, leaving the two of them to their personal combat.
The longsword had been thrown or kicked a few feet from the toppled barrels, but he found it just as the speakers went silent between songs. Into that stillness a cold, clear voice announced, "And now, the real game begins, brother."
He turned quickly to face Kronos.