Chapter Twenty-five

Duncan roused himself sufficiently to turn around, facing Silas while keeping an eye on the Kronos-Methos confrontation. As he watched with his attention thus divided, Methos backed away from his opponent carefully and watchfully, favoring the injured left shoulder.

Silas' face betrayed deep disappointment at seeing his brothers at odds in a life-or-death conflict. Kronos launched a brutal new offensive to take advantage of having drawn first blood, and Duncan clearly read anguish in Silas' expression at seeing his favorite brother in such a perilous position. Then he turned toward the Scot, raising his ax.

"You could help him," Duncan said suddenly. "You don't want Methos to die, Silas. Neither do I. We could help him."

Both men glanced back to the raging battle, noting Methos' struggle to defend himself mostly one-handed with a heavy two-handed sword. Silas' gaze returned to Duncan, and there was no ambivalence in it.

"I would rather see him dead than living with his back turned to his destiny," bellowed the huge man. The ax descended, intent on parting the Highlander's hair down to his knees.

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Beginning to feel marginally less lethargic, Cassandra crawled toward the outer wall, trying to stay out of the way of both battles while she continued to recover from Caspian's Quickening – but trying to keep both fights within her sight. She couldn't do anything to physically aid her teammates, but perhaps she could assist them by keeping close watch.

She was unsure about whom she should be most concerned. Methos was severely hampered by his currently useless left shoulder and was thus extremely vulnerable to Kronos' relentless attack. But her former master had five thousand years of survival on his side, and he had sparred with this opponent many times, had fought alongside him for years.

Duncan was, by virtue of his comparative youth, the least experienced of the four combatants, was clearly outmatched in physical strength, and had never even met Silas until a couple of hours ago. Yet he had grown up a warrior, was highly trained and disciplined in his skills, and possessed the limitless zeal of a man armed with honor and loyalty.

It was clear to her that each battle could go either way, which was why she had dragged her sword with her as she crawled over to the wall. If both her teammates won – or if both of them lost – nothing further would be required of her. She would leave alive with Duncan and Methos in the first case, and suffer then die in the second.

But if one of the Horsemen killed one of her teammates while the other pair still fought, it would fall to her to take the victor's head while he was still weak from the Quickening, to prevent him from teaming up against her remaining comrade.

Cassandra leaned back against the wall, watching, waiting… and regaining her strength.

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Methos knew he was at a serious disadvantage in this contest. Struggling backward while trying to keep his footing was bad enough, but the difficulty of defending one-armed against Kronos' strong two-handed swings was wearing. The itchy tingling he could feel in his shoulder signified that healing was taking place, but it wasn't happening quickly enough.

Trying to stretch his fingers surreptitiously, he glanced across the area to check on Cassandra, and finally noted the presence of Duncan MacLeod and Silas. Although the head on his shoulders signified that he was holding his own with Silas, MacLeod had the look of a man feeling a bit overwhelmed by his opponent. Methos found his attention drawn once again by a vicious swipe from Kronos' sword. Resigning MacLeod to his fate, Methos began evaluating his options.

"I see you have finally noticed our audience, brother." Kronos sounded both smug and slightly breathless as he taunted Methos.

"I don't think they're just here to watch," Methos riposted. He noted that Kronos was tiring a bit, but alas, like the healing of his own shoulder, it was not quick enough. Shifting his gaze around almost frantically, Methos' eyes lit on the low barrier around the base.

Dropping his defense for a split second, Methos bounded for the low wall. Unknowingly mimicking Duncan's earlier move, he sprang upward, but instead of clearing the wall, he landed effortlessly atop it like a cat.

Kronos stood still for a moment, shocked. "What is this, brother, your Errol Flynn impersonation?"

"Actually, I think it's more along the lines of Douglas Fairbanks." Methos delighted in the inanity of the chatter; it provided more time for his injury to heal. Cautiously finding his footing, he beckoned Kronos forward with his sword.

"Care to join me brother?" It was clear that neither the tone nor the invitation could be ignored.

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Successfully dodging Silas' latest attempt to cleave him in half, Duncan was desperately aware that he was in need of a new battle plan. He couldn't win in the long run merely by ducking, diving, and running. It was far more likely he would tire and make a fatal mistake before he ever got a lucky opening.

Jumping with both feet to avoid a sweep of the ax just below his knees, he cursed yet again the enormous reach that the ax afforded his gigantic opponent – and stopped in mid-thought as another part of his mind interrupted impatiently with a suggestion. The idea was so simple and obvious, he wanted to laugh.

Silas' vast ax-range was only effective if one sought to stay outside of it. Within its circumference, the giant immortal was extremely vulnerable. The trick, of course, was to get inside – no small feat, certainly – but once there…

The Highlander's shoulders squared up and his eyes glinted as the beginnings of a workable plan began to gel.

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With a low snarl, Kronos leapt to the wall, only to be met immediately by a crashing swipe from Methos' sword. Spinning to meet the thrust, Kronos overbalanced precariously, and Methos scored a quick hit to his right thigh.

Pressing forward to make the most of his limited success, Methos swung again, a forehand blow this time. The tip of the blade whistled through the air just short of Kronos' chest, but Methos was himself almost unbalanced by the follow-through. Catching himself just before plummeting off the wall, he noted that feeling had returned to his left arm.

Raising his left hand to the hilt of his sword, Methos prepared to overwhelm Kronos with a volley of well-placed blows. Raising the sword, he shifted forward to bring the blade down in a heavy, torso splitting stroke. Suddenly, Kronos' blade appeared to block the stroke. Swinging back powerfully, Kronos laughed at the quick look of confusion that crossed Methos' face.

"It takes more than a little cut on the leg to stop me, brother. If that's all you have, then this fight will soon be ended."

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Duncan was baiting Silas, tempting him by hovering just within ax-range. The idea was to get him to commit fully to a good, hard swing, avoid being hit, then take advantage of the big man's momentary down-time during the follow-through to enter the circle the ax's reach drew around Silas.

In theory, quite simple. In practice, nearly suicidal.

Halting his methodical assault briefly, Silas grinned and rumbled with mirth. "Do you want to be struck down, little man? I am happy for the sport, but the evasion must be tiring. Stand still and let me give you the rest you crave."

"You compassion is touching," Duncan tried not to pant, "but I'm just trying to make up for skipping my workout this morning. Just a little while longer, and then I'll be ready to finish you off."

His opponent chuckled some more as he reset the grip on his ax, and it struck Duncan that Methos' obvious affection for Silas was no longer the enigma it had been an hour or two ago. Under other circumstances, Duncan would probably like the man, himself.

He was obliged to drop to the floor as the ax whistled past his ear.

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"If that's all you have, then this fight will soon be ended."

Methos set his shoulders, unconsciously rolling the left one a little as he did. While he was firmly of the opinion that you should never show your opponent all your moves, he was clearly going to have to dig a little deeper to defeat Kronos.

"You know me better than that, Kronos. I've only used the level of skill I thought you merited, after all." Psychological warfare was never far from the top of Methos' bag of tricks, and he was sure he would be calling on more of those tricks soon.

Setting his feet squarely on the wall, Methos shifted fighting styles rapidly. Gone was the hack and slash method often favoured by combatants with heavy two-handed swords. Instead, he presented Kronos with rapid cuts and darting blows more common to fighting with rapiers, or other lighter weapons.

"What's this," Kronos jibed, "you fight me like a woman now?"

"No, I fight you with speed and skill, a combination you might not be familiar with." As Methos scored the verbal blow, so he scored a slight hit to Kronos' right arm. This was followed up with another quick cut to left shoulder.

"Owed you that one, brother," Methos noted with almost clinical detachment. Part of him knew that he couldn't maintain this style indefinitely with a heavy blade, but it seemed to be working for now. His superior balance, combined with the speed of his thrusts and cuts, was keeping Kronos on the defensive, but for how long?

His question was answered as Kronos' patience finally snapped. With a roar, the smaller man launched himself at Methos. Both fell from the wall in a tangle of arms and legs and swords. Scrambling apart, both rose to their feet as Silas and Duncan MacLeod stood frozen, not ten feet away.

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The four of them stood like actors awaiting their blocking, breathing heavily. Then Methos and Kronos began, almost imperceptibly, to slowly circle each other again, as though unable to tolerate a lack of some kind of motion. Silas and Duncan remained rooted, fascinated, almost hypnotized.

Kronos, obviously smarting from his inability to defeat Methos on his brother's terms, wore a scowl terrifying in its intensity. "Silas, why is MacLeod still wearing his head?" he barked, startling his brother.

"Wait," Duncan quipped, "don't tell me. I know this one…"

Stung by the implied criticism, Silas also put on a scowl and wrapped his resolve to satisfy Kronos around him like a heavy fur coat. Duncan returned his full attention to his own conflict.

Still circling, Kronos snarled at his opponent. "It's past time I finished with you too, brother, once and for all. Like a well-used slave, your company has become unsatisfying."

"Well, it's hard to keep the excitement alive after two thousand years." The glib reply came automatically, belying the grim thoughts running through Methos' mind. It was indeed time to finish things here, and he was forced to admit that it was also time to discard the rule about hiding his true skill. Kronos was channeling all his anger, all his disappointment, all his frustration, into this fight. He wouldn't be beaten, no matter how badly injured, until one of them was dead.

Very well, thought the old immortal. No more holding back, then.

The circle began to spin faster.