Chapter 6
"Mrs. Finkelstein travelled into the north of India with only her determination to keep her going," Adam told his class. "As far as she went she asked about the swami that had appeared from the mountains. When people tried to dissuade her from going there, she insisted that she just had to see the swami." He regarded them earnestly. "As you can imagine, the people were impressed by her courage and determination, and gave her directions until one day she reached the cave where the swami was instructing his followers."
"She was met at the mouth of the cave by an acolyte who at first tried to stop her from going in, but once again she insisted that she would only leave after seeing the swami. In the face of such devotion, the acolyte couldn't refuse her entrance. She entered the cave and came to the place where the swami was sitting."
"She regarded him for a moment, and then said, 'Alright, Melvyn. Enough of this swami nonsense. Come back home.'"
When the laughter had stopped, Adam said, "I stole that joke from Isaac Asimov." At the blank looks that greeted this statement, Adam groaned. "You need some lessons on the really important things in life, such as good authors." His students grinned at him, knowing by now that he was only joking.
"Okay," Adam said. "Back to work. We'll have to... Shankarji. What can I do for you?"
Narayan Shankar paused in the door of Adam's classroom. "Mr. Pierson, could I have a word with you?"
"Of course," Adam said, excusing himself from the class and stepping outside. "What can I do to help?"
"I just wanted to find out if you have seen Raj at all today," Shankar said. "I saw him at dawn, and he told me he would be going to town for an hour or so."
"That's a long time ago," Adam remarked. It was close to 4pm at the time. "What was he going to do?"
"I think he was meeting Miss Monica to plan the inter-college dance competition," Shankar replied. "It shouldn't have taken this long."
"You're right," Adam said. "But perhaps something came up. I'm sure he's fine."
"I hope so," Shankar said. "Well, I'll let you get back to your class."
"I'll tell him you were looking for him when I see him," Adam promised, and returned to his class.
By dinnertime, Raj had still not returned, and Adam joined Shankar in worrying. They had sent some of the students out to try to find out where he could be, but they returned without success. Raj had met Miss Monica, but had left there before noon. After that, no one had seen him. Finally, Shankar left to go to the town himself, leaving Adam fuming in frustration, trapped on Holy Ground by the presences of the head hunters that he could still sense, just outside the grounds.
He cursed himself for being such a coward, but he knew realistically that he could not hope to survive an attack by five of them at once. It was unfair, but they were breaking all the rules, so why would they bother about being fair? And as he was no superman, Adam did not delude himself with visions of taking them all on and winning. He had not survived five thousand years by being reckless.
But Raj's disappearance was causing him a lot of worry. He hated to admit it, but Raj had somehow managed to become a very good friend - something that Adam did not allow to happen very often, because he always outlived his friends and it just hurt too much. Raj, of course, had wormed himself into Adam's heart with a smile, a violin and those sympathetic eyes.
Adam missed him already. He wanted to talk to Raj about his feelings of cowardice, but he could not. It drove him to distraction. When Shankar returned late that night, Adam was waiting for him at the door.
"Any news?" Adam asked when Shankar entered, looking tired.
"We couldn't find him," Shankar replied, sinking wearily into his chair. "The police are also looking now but there are no leads. He's just disappeared." To Adam it seemed that Shankar was aging visibly as he sat there, as if the worry was eating away at him. "What do I do, Adam?"
"You keep believing that he is fine and will be back soon, Shankarji," Adam replied. "He would tell you to do that if he were here. I have never in my life met anyone who is as positive as Raj, and I think we can only benefit by following his example."
"I don't want to lose him," Shankar said. "I can't bear to lose a son, not after..."
"I don't want to lose him either, Shankarji," Adam said with compassion. "And if I can do anything to help, I will do it." As he spoke, he realized that he meant it, even if it meant leaving Holy Ground and facing those hunters to find Raj. "But for now, get some rest, my friend. The problems will be waiting for you in the morning; you don't have to worry about them during the night."
"But I will worry about Raj, not about problems," Shankar said. "And I pray he will be waiting for me tomorrow."
"So do I," Adam said softly. "So do I."
Adam was speaking on the phone with the police the next morning when a student came into the office to give him an envelope. Adam gestured at him to wait, listened for a few moments, said "Thank you," and hung up.
"What's this?" he asked.
"A man gave it to me at the gate," the student explained. "He said to give it to you."
"Alright," Adam said. "Thank you."
When the student had left, Adam opened the envelope and read the note within.
"Methos, if you want him alive, come to town tonight."
He sat and stared at nothing for a moment, feeling the rage build up inside him as he read the confirmation of what he had suspected, but had not admitted to himself because of fear. The hunters had taken Raj, to lure Methos off Holy Ground. He had to admit, it was a good strategy, because he certainly was coming after them now, but not in the way they might think. Methos had no scruples about breaking rules, especially since they had started it.
He smiled grimly to himself, envisioning the carnage when he got to them. They would wish that they had never tried this stunt. He would kill them all.
He stood up decisively, donning his coat and sword. He was not going to wait for their deadline either. He took the note and went to see Narayan Shankar.
The old man was sitting alone in his house, looking at the portraits above his fireplace. Megha... and Raj. Methos shook his head. Shankar seemed to believe he had lost Raj for good.
"I am going out," he said without preamble, causing Shankar to look around in surprise.
"But, you said..."
"It doesn't matter," Methos said brusquely. "They may have started this, but I will end it." He tossed the note onto the mantelpiece. "Don't worry, Shankarji. Nothing will happen to Raj."
As Shankar took the note, Methos turned and stalked out.
He pinpointed the first one close to the gate, using his perception of the Immortal's presence to home in on his position. Most Immortals could do this to a lesser extent, but very few had practiced that talent for five thousand years. Methos was an expert at it: a radar unit for Immortals. Mostly he used it to avoid challenges, but this time he exercised it in full - to hunt. Using another well-honed trick, Methos suppressed his own presence to such extent that the Immortal was not even aware of him until Methos stepped out from between the trees.
The Immortal turned in astonishment, seeing very little before Methos flew into him, his sword a silver blur. The battle was over in seconds, because Methos did not bother with fancy footwork and well-known moves. He merely waded in, sword flying, and dispatched his opponent as quickly as possible. As the dead Immortal tumbled to the ground, Methos had to suppress the urge to kick the body, he was so angry. Angry at the Immortal for forcing him to fight - for forcing him to take a Quickening. But he had no choice. Bracing himself, he swung his sword and decapitated the corpse.
Blue tendrils of energy started crawling from the headless body, radiating out, seeking something to ground in. Finding the roots of trees, the energy travelled up the roots and into the trunks, exploding the trees like lightning strikes would - heating the sap in the wood into steam, and splitting each tree into splinters before escaping and combining into larger bolts. The bolts all coalesced into an electrical storm that struck into Methos, where he stood waiting with his sword.
As the bolts entered his body, Methos screamed, not from the pain of the electricity burning into him, but from the feeling of another consciousness trying to take over his mind. Every Quickening was a battle of wills, as the essence of the dead Immortal still fought to destroy his opponent. It took a few minutes before Methos found himself in the confusion of memories and feelings not his own. He hated taking Quickenings for this reason, because every new one made it harder for him to come back.
But when he was forced to fight for his life, or for the life of a friend, Methos could endure anything.
When he had recovered, he looked through the dead man's pockets and found much to his delight, a semi-automatic pistol concealed inside the coat. Methos grinned. That would stack the odds in his favour, for sure. He took the gun and some rounds of ammunition from the corpse, and then focused his perception outwards to find the next Immortal.
"Mrs. Finkelstein travelled into the north of India with only her determination to keep her going," Adam told his class. "As far as she went she asked about the swami that had appeared from the mountains. When people tried to dissuade her from going there, she insisted that she just had to see the swami." He regarded them earnestly. "As you can imagine, the people were impressed by her courage and determination, and gave her directions until one day she reached the cave where the swami was instructing his followers."
"She was met at the mouth of the cave by an acolyte who at first tried to stop her from going in, but once again she insisted that she would only leave after seeing the swami. In the face of such devotion, the acolyte couldn't refuse her entrance. She entered the cave and came to the place where the swami was sitting."
"She regarded him for a moment, and then said, 'Alright, Melvyn. Enough of this swami nonsense. Come back home.'"
When the laughter had stopped, Adam said, "I stole that joke from Isaac Asimov." At the blank looks that greeted this statement, Adam groaned. "You need some lessons on the really important things in life, such as good authors." His students grinned at him, knowing by now that he was only joking.
"Okay," Adam said. "Back to work. We'll have to... Shankarji. What can I do for you?"
Narayan Shankar paused in the door of Adam's classroom. "Mr. Pierson, could I have a word with you?"
"Of course," Adam said, excusing himself from the class and stepping outside. "What can I do to help?"
"I just wanted to find out if you have seen Raj at all today," Shankar said. "I saw him at dawn, and he told me he would be going to town for an hour or so."
"That's a long time ago," Adam remarked. It was close to 4pm at the time. "What was he going to do?"
"I think he was meeting Miss Monica to plan the inter-college dance competition," Shankar replied. "It shouldn't have taken this long."
"You're right," Adam said. "But perhaps something came up. I'm sure he's fine."
"I hope so," Shankar said. "Well, I'll let you get back to your class."
"I'll tell him you were looking for him when I see him," Adam promised, and returned to his class.
By dinnertime, Raj had still not returned, and Adam joined Shankar in worrying. They had sent some of the students out to try to find out where he could be, but they returned without success. Raj had met Miss Monica, but had left there before noon. After that, no one had seen him. Finally, Shankar left to go to the town himself, leaving Adam fuming in frustration, trapped on Holy Ground by the presences of the head hunters that he could still sense, just outside the grounds.
He cursed himself for being such a coward, but he knew realistically that he could not hope to survive an attack by five of them at once. It was unfair, but they were breaking all the rules, so why would they bother about being fair? And as he was no superman, Adam did not delude himself with visions of taking them all on and winning. He had not survived five thousand years by being reckless.
But Raj's disappearance was causing him a lot of worry. He hated to admit it, but Raj had somehow managed to become a very good friend - something that Adam did not allow to happen very often, because he always outlived his friends and it just hurt too much. Raj, of course, had wormed himself into Adam's heart with a smile, a violin and those sympathetic eyes.
Adam missed him already. He wanted to talk to Raj about his feelings of cowardice, but he could not. It drove him to distraction. When Shankar returned late that night, Adam was waiting for him at the door.
"Any news?" Adam asked when Shankar entered, looking tired.
"We couldn't find him," Shankar replied, sinking wearily into his chair. "The police are also looking now but there are no leads. He's just disappeared." To Adam it seemed that Shankar was aging visibly as he sat there, as if the worry was eating away at him. "What do I do, Adam?"
"You keep believing that he is fine and will be back soon, Shankarji," Adam replied. "He would tell you to do that if he were here. I have never in my life met anyone who is as positive as Raj, and I think we can only benefit by following his example."
"I don't want to lose him," Shankar said. "I can't bear to lose a son, not after..."
"I don't want to lose him either, Shankarji," Adam said with compassion. "And if I can do anything to help, I will do it." As he spoke, he realized that he meant it, even if it meant leaving Holy Ground and facing those hunters to find Raj. "But for now, get some rest, my friend. The problems will be waiting for you in the morning; you don't have to worry about them during the night."
"But I will worry about Raj, not about problems," Shankar said. "And I pray he will be waiting for me tomorrow."
"So do I," Adam said softly. "So do I."
Adam was speaking on the phone with the police the next morning when a student came into the office to give him an envelope. Adam gestured at him to wait, listened for a few moments, said "Thank you," and hung up.
"What's this?" he asked.
"A man gave it to me at the gate," the student explained. "He said to give it to you."
"Alright," Adam said. "Thank you."
When the student had left, Adam opened the envelope and read the note within.
"Methos, if you want him alive, come to town tonight."
He sat and stared at nothing for a moment, feeling the rage build up inside him as he read the confirmation of what he had suspected, but had not admitted to himself because of fear. The hunters had taken Raj, to lure Methos off Holy Ground. He had to admit, it was a good strategy, because he certainly was coming after them now, but not in the way they might think. Methos had no scruples about breaking rules, especially since they had started it.
He smiled grimly to himself, envisioning the carnage when he got to them. They would wish that they had never tried this stunt. He would kill them all.
He stood up decisively, donning his coat and sword. He was not going to wait for their deadline either. He took the note and went to see Narayan Shankar.
The old man was sitting alone in his house, looking at the portraits above his fireplace. Megha... and Raj. Methos shook his head. Shankar seemed to believe he had lost Raj for good.
"I am going out," he said without preamble, causing Shankar to look around in surprise.
"But, you said..."
"It doesn't matter," Methos said brusquely. "They may have started this, but I will end it." He tossed the note onto the mantelpiece. "Don't worry, Shankarji. Nothing will happen to Raj."
As Shankar took the note, Methos turned and stalked out.
He pinpointed the first one close to the gate, using his perception of the Immortal's presence to home in on his position. Most Immortals could do this to a lesser extent, but very few had practiced that talent for five thousand years. Methos was an expert at it: a radar unit for Immortals. Mostly he used it to avoid challenges, but this time he exercised it in full - to hunt. Using another well-honed trick, Methos suppressed his own presence to such extent that the Immortal was not even aware of him until Methos stepped out from between the trees.
The Immortal turned in astonishment, seeing very little before Methos flew into him, his sword a silver blur. The battle was over in seconds, because Methos did not bother with fancy footwork and well-known moves. He merely waded in, sword flying, and dispatched his opponent as quickly as possible. As the dead Immortal tumbled to the ground, Methos had to suppress the urge to kick the body, he was so angry. Angry at the Immortal for forcing him to fight - for forcing him to take a Quickening. But he had no choice. Bracing himself, he swung his sword and decapitated the corpse.
Blue tendrils of energy started crawling from the headless body, radiating out, seeking something to ground in. Finding the roots of trees, the energy travelled up the roots and into the trunks, exploding the trees like lightning strikes would - heating the sap in the wood into steam, and splitting each tree into splinters before escaping and combining into larger bolts. The bolts all coalesced into an electrical storm that struck into Methos, where he stood waiting with his sword.
As the bolts entered his body, Methos screamed, not from the pain of the electricity burning into him, but from the feeling of another consciousness trying to take over his mind. Every Quickening was a battle of wills, as the essence of the dead Immortal still fought to destroy his opponent. It took a few minutes before Methos found himself in the confusion of memories and feelings not his own. He hated taking Quickenings for this reason, because every new one made it harder for him to come back.
But when he was forced to fight for his life, or for the life of a friend, Methos could endure anything.
When he had recovered, he looked through the dead man's pockets and found much to his delight, a semi-automatic pistol concealed inside the coat. Methos grinned. That would stack the odds in his favour, for sure. He took the gun and some rounds of ammunition from the corpse, and then focused his perception outwards to find the next Immortal.