Sixteen

Kaya

The doors closed and Martouf found himself standing behind a tapestry hung out a little from the wall. He pushed it aside with his arm to see a congregation room spread out, full of courtiers gaping in shock. They moved away from him, crowding around the walls as he walked out onto the floor, subconsciously stowing the weapon they had surely seen. Behind the masses of people at the far end of the grand hall he saw a man standing on a dais staring at Martouf with hands clasped, white knuckled, on the arms of the ornate chair he'd stood up from, eyes glowing but apparently no longer the centre of attention.

That must be him.

He looked over the crowd, debating without Lantash's aid whether to shoot without hesitation as he'd been advised.

In the midst of the frozen many who seemed unsure of what to do, most stood casting their eyes back and forth between him and Torres, elders were bowing and the rest were whispering. He saw Desamina and Elio standing together before his eyes locked onto a pair of startled blue eyes.

He gasped.

Samantha.

She was trying to escape his gaze, to sink into a crowd that was now aware of her presence and push sideways towards the exit. He followed with his eyes as the people parted to let her through.

He realised he had made a scene by staring at her so. Snapping out of it he also realised the danger he'd put them both in, quickly he walked up to Torres and was about to kneel but Torres yanked him out of the room pushing and shoving him until they were out in the streets below the fort.

Martouf didn't utter a single complaint. It was preferable to escape as many spectators as he could, so he let himself be driven to the outskirts in silence. Neither of them spoke until there was no living being in sight. The day was over by the look of the dark clouds gathering overhead in the expansive sky that reached in every direction to burnt red grass plains. The grass and shards of rock scratched at his legs and the fresh smell almost overpowered his senses, worsening his condition.

Torres paced briskly forward, limping slightly, from where Martouf stood and then turned on him with a zat. Martouf's was already in his hand but he didn't fire. Neither did Torres.

His face blank as a mask, "you should have stayed away."

Martouf began cautiously, "my lord, forgive me. What did I do that was so bad?"

Torres scoffed, "I'm in awe of your accomplishments. I really am. You have such a résumé."

Martouf needed to know all that Torres knew about his past.

"That expression!" Torres shook his head in astonishment, "you just- you're… a clean slate!

"To find you at that widow's house and you didn't even know who you were," he said backing up. "It was the most ridiculous thing I could think of to get you to contact Anubis. To send you to Apophis' hunting grounds with a message for Anubis!"

Martouf kept his mouth shut hoping that Torres would vent more -- everything.

"It was the absolute, most stupid thing I could think of. And truly I wasn't going to go through with that farce, but then you agreed! And you were grateful. I couldn't believe my eyes." he laughed but somehow looked strangely sincere. It was something about his boyish features, they suggested a total innocence – he could get away with murder.

"What did I do?" Martouf pressed moving sideways a little, trying subtly to avoid Torres' aim as much as he could but it tracked him with ease.

"This is a beautiful weapon."

Is he changing the subject?

Martouf looked it over as Torres' hand tilted it a little to catch the dim sunlight for his inspection. He now saw that it was not dark grey, but black and glistening, obviously somewhat modified, more angular in appearance.

"You should recognise it… but you don't." He armed it, "I have no idea how it actually works, what it does," he confessed.

"So I put it on the highest setting…" he sounded almost apologetic. Almost. "You shouldn't have come back."

"My lord-!" Martouf interjected.

"I can't. I won't," emotion explicit in his voice. "You deserve this, brother. I always supported you, Kaya, and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing to lose."

"I'm not -," he started but Torres fired. His voice ground out harshly, "Just because you don't remember all the pain you caused doesn't mean you aren't responsible for your actions."

Martouf flinched, his eyes staring ahead for a moment. Then he looked down and found the wound was at his heart. It didn't look right. Under the burnt fabric of his shirt his skin was not broken. The blood was seeping right through it. He looked up at Torres in confusion, demanding an explanation.

"Don't look at me. Its your weapon."

Martouf's eyes flashed.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Lantash barked. "I'm not you brother!"

Torres was confused long enough for Lantash to arm and aim in a fluid motion, "and this is my weapon."

His hand shook and he misfired to the left as he dropped the zat. He ducked down to grab it up again. His knuckles couldn't bend. He couldn't feel his right side at all.

Torres looked as surprised as Martouf, and remained aiming warily, in case he was being bluffed and Lantash would try a fast move.

Lantash grimaced as his leg went limp and he couldn't move it to support himself and he crashed into the sharp blades of grass in searing pain.

"We've switched places in life. Now you're left in the cold."

All Lantash could see was the thundering sky above. Then he saw his homeland, his closest friends, coloured crystals, the Tok'ra, landscapes sweeping by and Rosha.

The wind swept around the figure towering over him silhouetted in the light.

"Now I am Lord of Teirkar. I will lead our people as you never could."