Chapter 115

Watcher Compound, Switzerland

Derrick exited the car still holding Ellie on one shoulder. Somehow in all of this madness he had to find Methos… He slashed with the great sword… aware that the attacker seemed to reverberate on his senses like something putrid. Derrick felt the sword enter the man's side and slice through them. The boy swallowed his rising bile as the body thumped to the ground and twitched as if trying to rise once more. He angrily kicked part of it away.

Old memory filled him for a moment of hacking away at men as he made his way across the battlefield. "That's not me!" Derrick whispered through gritted teeth, and stepped back to gauge the fighting. These men were good… giving even the Swordmaster a strong fight… and they did not follow the rules. This was an all-out battle.

The mortals who'd accompanied Derrick down in the car… blanched in the face of the calm-faced savagery of their attackers. When another of the strange black-garbed men rushed at Derrick… he calmly sliced away an arm and watched the man fall. Then he stepped over his fallen opponent and headed for the stairs.

When another leaped at him… Derrick impaled and shoved him off with one raised foot. He wasn't here to fight… he wasn't here to kill… he was here to get Ellie to Methos.

Some inner sense warned him to turn. He did so just in time to stop a strike at his back. He blocked the stroke and pushed the man backwards… thrusting the great sword into him. Alisaunne whirled on his opponent's right and neatly sliced off the head as Derrick once more pulled the sword free.

"I'll cover your back!" she yelled. "Get her to my father!"

Derrick nodded. By this time… he'd reached the stairs. Swiftly… with one hand holding tightly to Ellie… he raced down the metal stairs… three at a time. Already he could see the final two men below him… waiting for him. Around them… white-coated men and women raced in confusion and terror. Above him… the sounds of the battle were fading as the immortals… with their centuries of experience… finally began to make inroads on these strange immortal men.

As he reached the final landing before the last descent… he felt Alisaunne leap over the railing behind him and land on the cavern's floor. Immediately… one of the two men focused an assault on her… while the other met Derrick's gaze with a dark smirk.

"You're not immortal!" the man said and flexed his broadsword.

"No," replied Derrick as his feet hit the stone floor and he rushed the man… the great sword flashing as he turned his arm in an uppercut. The man, an Oriental, jumped back unhurt and laughed. Then with both hands on his Chinese sword… attacked with a pattern of back and forth slashes. Derrick was forced to back up and defend. He would need both his hands against this one… and he dare not put Ellie down.

For a moment, Derrick faltered. The memories of battles fought long ago shimmered about him. He felt the need to toss her to one side and attack. He blinked the other away. What was it Methos had made him promise? What was it he'd taught him? Not to attack… but to always let there be something more about his abilities than what the other suspected.

The memory of an another voice whispering within coursed through him, "Be my warrior! Be ever the surprise!" Derrick shifted Ellie slightly and lunged to one side… turning as he did so… he sliced downward. The Oriental flinched as he turned… the sword grazing his back. His eyes were bright… as if on some drug like PCP. He laughed and attacked once more.

Derrick backed up… blocking the strokes one-handed and wishing he'd had more practice. He wasn't good enough… as Methos had warned him… to take on a warrior… not yet.

Alisaunne… having finished with her opponent… whirled on the Oriental, and attacked with both blades. The man shifted back and focused on her.

Derrick took the opportunity to turn and force his way through the screaming men and women. Where was Methos? He closed his eyes for a moment and let his senses roam free. The others could find him… if he let them have control. But in giving them control… would he lose himself. With no other choice… he unleashed them. Snapping his eyes open he felt a surge of power. Methos! He headed for the center of the cavern.

Entering a curtained area… he saw the ancient lying unconscious and strapped on a gurney. An IV pole dispensed drugs. Wires from probes in his head ran to the sleeping form of another man. Derrick shifted Ellie from his shoulder and almost reverently lay her next to Methos. He rounded on the frightened elderly man at a computer console.

"End this now!" he snarled as he raised the great sword before him.

"I can't!" the old man said. "Something else has happened! I no longer have control!" Fear and confusion was evident in his eyes. Derrick grasped the sword with both hands and made to slice through the cables.

"No! Wait! That could kill them both!" the old man shouted. Derrick hesitated. "They have to be brought out by the withdrawal of the drugs and the cessation of the scenario. But something else has control of that right now."

Derrick hesitated… the others faded… and once more he was only a boy uncertain of what he needed to do to save those he loved. Behind him… on the other side of the curtain… a quickening flared. He glanced upward at Duncan and the others finishing off the soldiers. Licking his lips he stared at Ellie and Methos… both lay as if dead to this world.

His jawline hardened and he reached to pull the old man to him. "Then do it manually… but bring them back safely. End this!"

The old man nodded… fearfully shifting his glasses up on his nose… and fumbling for a handkerchief wiped his perspiring brow. "Y…ye… yessir!" he managed.

Derrick let him go… but held the great sword level and ready. He hoped his fears were not evident on his face.

-----

Wilderman tapped the fingers of one hand against his lips as he stared at the drugs. This had to be done carefully… once inside the scenarios… the correct mix and flow of drugs was necessary to safely bring them out. So precise did it have to be… that he'd entrusted it to the computer. But with the computer down… He glanced at the tall young man… and at the sword. It was like staring into the barrel of a gun… his mind was a blank. "Think!" he told himself. If he was to survive this day… if his research was not to be lost… he had to do as this rather fierce young man had said… and end this.

His hands trembling… he reached for the IV pole attached to number 47 and began adjusting the flow.

-----

Alisaunne focused her attention on the Oriental… allowing nothing but his moves to be real to her. He was well trained… and had obviously more martial arts training than most of these men. She recognized many of his moves which when combined with his swordwork were truly amazing.

But she also noticed something else. His eyes were becoming more and more glazed… as if whatever immortal power possessed him… gave him his power, speed and healing ability… were beginning to also take control of his mind.

Over and over in her head… she kept hearing Duncan's voice…

"Vary your attack!"

"Use what's around you!"

"Be aware of where you are."

"If something isn't working… be ready to try something else."

Alisaunne paused and then flipped into the air… twisting and turning… lashing out at him. She landed cat-like… but she'd missed him again.

He laughed and moved back to an unconscious immortal.

"No!" shouted Alisaunne as the Oriental's sword sliced downward through the immortal's neck… and the quickening rose about her like a sudden thunderstorm. She shuddered as it flashed and arced about her. Dropping the wazikachi she forced the katana before her into both of her hands. He'd done this to weaken her… so she had to be ready. She had no choice but to absorb this power… but she couldn't let her guard down nor give into the memories. She breathed out and then sucked it in… pushing the images and thoughts away as she cleared her mind. Slowly it caressed her… a gentle kiss… and was gone. Even as it faded… the Oriental attacked.

Alisaunne blocked his stroke and then the next. Slowly… with a strength she didn't know she'd ever possessed she pushed him backward.

He stumbled against the gurney, which shifted suddenly on its wheels. He stumbled, falling backwards. Then his feet went flying up.

Alisaunne struck mercilessly downward. His eyes widened momentarily as the katana passed through his neck. And then it was over.

Behind her she could hear Duncan barking orders as the remaining mortals were gathered up. But it was over… and so was her life. She stepped closer to the gurney and sobbed at the decapitated body of Ian Daffyd.

-----

Within the dream

"He's bigger," Eleanor smirked from behind him.

Methos shrugged. "You know what they say… the bigger they are…"

"… the harder they fall," she finished. Their thoughts never so much in union, as at this moment. Methos reached deep within him for the ancient mindset of Death… surprised that it was not quite so buried as he'd thought.

"My name is Henry Rawlins," the armored giant said, his voice thundering through the arena.

"Really…" Methos quipped. "I thought perhaps it was Yosemite Sam or perhaps Daffy Duck… you know… one of those pathetic misfits of the cartoon world. Seeing as none of this real… surely one of those would be more fitting."

"Laugh all you want Methos. Both you and your little dream partner will be mine." The figure struck a pose and lifted his sword before him. "Does she even have a name? Is she even real? Somehow I thought it would be Duncan MacLeod you were linked to."

Methos snorted. "The Boy Scout? Sorry…" he chuckled. "I don't do slash! Now slice and dice is another matter entirely." For some reason he felt like David facing Goliath. But for all his size and study of Methos' methods… the man was an amateur. It was more a matter of finding the chink in Rawlins' armor… and exploiting it. Trouble was… did virtual armor have a chink? It flowed over his now massive form and moved as he moved.

"Distract him," Methos murmured to Eleanor.

"With pleasure!" She stepped from his side and executed a confusing set of steps… the dance… turned on its ear… as Phillip had taught her. She crouched as she crept across the sand… her arms raised… her hands extended claw-like… a veritable chimera from ancient mythology… focused on the head of her enemy. Methos ducked beneath the swiftly swinging broadsword… moving faster than it seemed possible for a thing of such size. He turned and backed away… flicking his eyes over Eleanor's form. Like him… she wore almost nothing… If Rawlins struck her… would they both die?

As if the thought had also occurred to him… Rawlins turned on her. He rushed toward her… swinging the broadsword. Eleanor leaped into the air and flipped over his shoulder… raking her claws uselessly along his armored arm. Still… her movement startled him and he whipped about trying to follow her movement.

As Rawlins turned… Methos leaped forward and crashed his sword against Rawlin's midsection. Then he leaped back. The armor had held. But it glistened metallically as if scratched. Methos swiveled the broadsword… shifting if from hand to hand as he circled around and eyed Rawlins' divided attention.

Eleanor shifted in the opposite direction… her feet still moving in the complicated steps of the dance… an almost mesmerizing display of movement… designed… Methos understood… to completely befuddle one's opponent… just as his movements were.

Rawlins shook his helmeted head and leaped at her. Once more she leaped up and twisted… bouncing on his back as he endeavored to turn. At the same moment… Methos slashed again and again at the man. Then he withdrew as Eleanor landed on the ground and backed away.

Once more… he and Eleanor moved around Rawlins. Slowly… methodically… patiently.

Again… Methos could see sparks emanate from the scratches where his sword had made clear contact with the armor. If he got enough blows in… would it fade entirely? He wished he'd played more video games years ago… this was like being inside one of those.

As Eleanor passed behind Rawlin's back, she nodded and leaped onto it even as Methos struck again.

Rawlins lifted one armored hand and clutched the tiny immortal… effortlessly tossing her against the arena walls. "Now then… Methos… How will you manage without your shadow?" he hissed.

Eleanor rose on her arms and shook her head. For a moment she shimmered… Methos feared he'd lose her. But the shimmering stopped and she rose to a crouch… still focused on Rawlins.

"Wait for it!" Methos thought at her. She nodded and waited, shifting her weight from one leg to another as she shrugged and flexed… moving through another warm-up routine. Death re-focused his attention on Rawlins. Within him he heard his brothers clamor to be set free.

"We… too… can help!" Kronos whispered. "Give us free reign for the next attack!"

Methos was tempted… but if he set them free… would he still be in control?

"Then just me, brother!" Silas's bass voice rumbled. "I was always the better fighter."

"Until I bested you," thought Methos.

"Ahh… but Methos… I had no desire to fight you. It was you who forced the fight."

Methos forced their voices down. "I say when! I say how much! I say if!" Once more he leapt at Rawlins and landed three good solid blows before the man's larger size and strength forced him back. His sword landed a shallow blow across Methos' chest.

Stumbling back… aware that he was bleeding, Methos nodded to Eleanor.

With a trilling cry… reminiscent of the Celtic warriors of her youth… she flung herself into Rawlins' arms and pulled desperately at the fastenings of his helmet. Like some lost head in battle… the helmet came free and went bouncing across the arena… fading into nothingness at the third bounce.

Rawlins' hands grabbed at her as she bit his nose.

Again he tossed her to the ground… then slammed the broadsword into her. He pulled it back to swipe at her head and was attacked by a suddenly more massive Methos… tattooed… face painted… a great battle axe swinging mightily with such force that it buried itself in Rawlins' chest. He staggered back as the axe was withdrawn. His armor sparked and crackled about him as it faded.

Methos was on one knee… the sword lay on the ground in one lax hand while he reclaimed his body. Darkly he glared at the suddenly armorless Rawlins. The bitter leer across Methos' face was one he'd not used in millennia. But one that he'd often seen reflected in Caspian.

He rose… broadsword in hand and rained a hail of blows on Rawlins… beating him to his knees. Capturing his massive broadsword in one of Kronos' disarm moves… he flipped it up and away to fade in the air as it flew across the arena.

"Give him to us!" Cassandra said as she materialized beside Methos.

"To us!" said Kyra. "For all he has done."

"To us!" Greg Powers stared hungrily at Rawlins.

"He used us… He must die!" Robert and Gina de Valicourt screamed in unison.

Rawlins looked around. "You can't be here! You have no place in this!"

Methos lowered his sword and reclaimed himself… aware that about thirty immortals had suddenly appeared within the scenario. "Take him… I make a gift of him to you."

Alex Raven leaned toward Rawlins and pulled his blonde hair into one hand. "We are one!"

Kiem Sun laughed as he clasped one hand about Rawlins' throat. "Foolish mortal. You sought to be one of us without understanding who and what we are!"

Michelle Webster lay one hand on Rawlins chin and wrenched it away. "We are one with one another and with all living things… Our power is the power of life in all its glory, and the power of being one flows through all of us."

There was a roar as the dreamform of the collection of immortals surged forward.

Methos turned his back on the howling mob as it descended on Rawlins' prostrate body… He knelt beside Eleanor's unmoving form and gathered it into his arms. He rocked back and forth… aware that he had no sense of her in this moment of triumph. Slowly her body shimmered and faded away.

The final two chapters and the epilogue will be posted tomorrow, along with the Afterword.--elle