Chapter Twenty-One

"Well, brother," Methos threw all the scorn he felt into that one word. He shifted the sword to a more comfortable grip and prepared to engage Kronos. Hoping to use his greatest weapon, his wits, he opened his mouth to launch a verbal salvo. At that moment, the music began again, and the selection struck him momentarily dumb.

"Sledgehammer?" Peter Gabriel seemed an abrupt departure from the previous songs.

Kronos grinned as he used Methos' distraction to lunge; caught off guard, Methos parried desperately. Blades locked together, Kronos leaned in close to Methos' ear.

"I liked the video," he purred.

Methos shoved away and mentally added another tally to Kronos' side of the scorecard. The score was heavily weighted, and not in his favour. Once again he marvelled at how he had been outmanoeuvred.

"You can't run forever," Kronos taunted as Methos backed away.

Perhaps I have gotten soft, Methos mused. Regardless, it was time to start evening the score.

******************

Duncan MacLeod was too consumed by his battle to notice anything but the fierce opponent in front of him. An initial miscalculation had almost cost him his head already, and Duncan refused to spare attention for anything but keeping that portion of his anatomy.

Thinking to distract Silas long enough for Methos and Cassandra to slip away, Duncan had allowed the largest Horseman to back him into the small space beneath the catwalk stairs. The only thing that saved him was Silas' inability to swing his axe under the catwalk.

"Come out, little man," Silas taunted Duncan over the sound of the music. "You will pay for turning my brother against me."

"You know," Duncan yelled as Silas began trying to reach under the stairs with one hand, "I'm getting tired of being badmouthed by the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

Sucking in a deep breath, Duncan barely avoided the grasping fingers that brushed his shirtfront. Sliding slightly to his left, he tried to aim a kick at the bigger man's knee, but the distance was too great.

"All right," Duncan didn't even realize he was muttering aloud to himself, "can't go over him, can't go around him, gonna have to go through him." Shifting his sword to his left hand, he eased the bowie knife Methos had given him out of its sheath.

*************

It didn't take Caspian long to recover from his initial shock at Cassandra's blade deflecting his thrust at Methos. Spinning quickly, he knocked the sword aside and moved out of range of a killing thrust.

"He must be good, that brother of mine, to inspire such devotion." The words oozed out of Caspian's mouth, sliding into the pseudo-silence of the speakerless base area. "Do you like the games he plays with you? I taught him those games, you know."

The whole time Caspian spoke, he kept circling Cassandra, waiting for her guard to drop, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Moving sideways, she edged closer to the break in the low wall around the base, not wanting to be trapped.

"We could play, you and I …" Caspian trailed off with a suggestive leer as he suddenly lunged toward Cassandra, but there was no power to his thrust, and she deflected it easily.

"You want to play?" Cassandra called out to Caspian in a singsong voice. "Then come play," she practically cooed, stilling the eager shaking in her hands as she eased her sword lower, leaving an opening that Caspian couldn't resist.

Leaping forward, Caspian drove his sword toward Cassandra's left shoulder. Once again over-committed, he could not escape the arc of the nightstick that Cassandra levelled at his head. His sword sliced ineffectually at her shoulder as she twisted out of his way, almost dropping the sword she now held one handed. The blow she landed against his cheekbone was anything but ineffectual though; the crunching of bone echoed off the low wall as he staggered through the gap.

Cassandra smiled as she gazed at the ruin that had been the left side of Caspian's face. "C'mon, you sick bastard, let's play."

*********

Gripping the bowie knife tightly in his hand, Duncan feinted right, giving the impression that he was seeking refuge further under the stairs again. As expected, Silas moved to block his progress. With a quick side step, Duncan ducked to his left.

Diving toward the open floor, Duncan used the bowie knife to open Silas's forearm, gashing almost to the bone. The roar of pain that resulted was nearly enough to halt Duncan in his tracks, but he kept rolling, outdistancing the axe that swung for his head with incredible force, even wielded one-handed.

Tossing the knife away, Duncan rose with sword in hand, ready to battle the man before him. He had just begun to wonder how much time the wound would buy him when the axe swung once again at Duncan's head.

Relying on years of fighting skill, Duncan engaged his opponent. He attempted to parry each blow of the axe with the sword he now carried. Although not his usual katana, Duncan was familiar enough with most blades for the difference to be insignificant.

It came as a shock then, for the blade to be ripped from his hands by the sheer power of Silas' stroke. Duncan saw the sword tumble and land several feet away as he scrambled to unsheathe the short sword strapped to his leg.

Silas' booming laugh rang out when he saw Duncan's new weapon. "Ha, a little sword for a little man!" Still laughing, he redoubled his efforts to take Duncan's head. With a mighty swing, the axe connected directly with the short sword. The blade snapped off four inches above the guard.

Duncan stared silently at the shattered sword in his hand, then shifted his gaze to the looming man in front of him.

"Okay, blocking blows from an axe doesn't work. Time for something different." As he spoke, Duncan tossed the remains of the sword into Silas' face and scrambled for his longsword.

************

Kronos and Methos continued to jockey for position. It was clear to Methos that Kronos did not wish to kill his "right-hand man," that he was banking on the other Horsemen killing MacLeod and Cassandra and with them, Methos' will to resist. The devious, old immortal was frantically creating, evaluating and discarding plans to take advantage of that fact.

"We really don't have to do this, you know," he called out to Kronos, stalling. As the words left his mouth he winced at how like MacLeod he sounded.

"Please, brother, spare me the trite commentary on how unnecessary and distasteful this all is." Kronos didn't seem too impressed by Methos' words either. "You have known from the beginning that this could end only one of two ways. You join me … or you die."

As he spoke the last words, Kronos struck. Sword flashing, he drove toward Methos' left side, seeking to score a quick hit to the shoulder or thigh, but Methos was prepared and fended off the attack handily.

Regaining his balance, Methos risked a glance over at Cassandra. Kronos followed his gaze.

"You've trained her well, brother. Perhaps we should keep her." The taunting note in Kronos' voice made Methos' skin crawl, but he refused to respond. Cassandra and MacLeod were fully capable of defending themselves, and he was responsible only for himself at this point. He knew that he would have to keep his head … if he wanted to keep his head.

*********

Cassandra felt her blood rushing through her body, and the power coursing through her arms. She felt strong and ready to defeat not just Caspian, but the ghosts of her past. Standing tall, she tossed the nightstick aside, grasped her sword tightly and waited for her foe to approach.

Spitting blood, Caspian slowly straightened up. The look he turned on Cassandra would have felled many a lesser opponent. With a snarl of rage, he ran toward her, sword flashing in the dim lighting.

For one moment, Cassandra was almost paralysed by fear. Her mind flashed back to the day the Horsemen had destroyed her village and her life. At the last second, a cool voice spoke in the back of her mind, reminding her she was no longer that scared girl.

Twisting her upper body, she avoided the first onslaught of Caspian's rush. Spinning on her heel, she put her back to the base and brought her sword up to defend herself. The speed of Caspian's assault soon had her breathless, and she began to back away, hoping to buy some time.

Caspian, once again sensing, shark-like, blood in the water, pressed his attack. Again and again he forced Cassandra to parry and block his strokes, making sure to avoid falling into a predictable pattern of attack. Just as the backs of her thighs met the wall behind her, he disarmed her, sending the bastard sword flying into the darkness eight feet beyond the wall.

The sword clanged loudly in the silence as the pre-programmed music shifted once again. Placing his sword against Cassandra's throat, Caspian grinned as Def Leppard began to blare through the speakers. Licking his lips, he spoke loudly enough for Cassandra to hear him clearly.

"Now we have some fun, sugar."