I know, I know. This took a really long time to get out. Sorry.
Hopefully part 3 will arrive a lot faster.
Chapter 2: Decisions, Decisions
Disclaimer: Still not mine. But oh, if they were.
He felt the other man approach long before he acknowledged him. After several long minutes of silence, Reggie complained, "I don't like this."
"There's a lot about it not to like." Karolek agreed. He placed a mug of coffee next to the young Confederate, before sitting down next to him on the sidewalk. Reggie barely acknowledged his presence, continuing to stare straight ahead at the edge of the walk across the street. It was too late...or rather too early, for many people to be out. Understandably, Reggie had been feeling stressed and confined within Connor's living room, and had retreated to the front steps to think. It wasn't quite far enough to escape the headache-inducing presence of Karolek and Connor, so he'd gone only as far as the curb. Connor's intense warning not to go away from the house had frightened him too much to actually test the man's good will. "But there's good about it, too."
Reggie laughed sarcastically, looking through haunted brown eyes at the eternally youthful Russian next to him. "Yeah, the idea of being a cripple for a couple of centuries carries a lot of appeal." He looked down at his outstretched leg. "Goddamn war ruined everything, didn't it."
Karolek wisely opted to say nothing at the moment. He wasn't sure there was much he could say. He didn't know where Reggie was coming from. The Confederate had been a full 15 years older than Karolek when he died his first death, and had a legitimate complaint about his war wounds. Shrapnel had left him with a weak right shoulder and a slight limp in his right leg. He wasn't much of a doctor - the field had never held much interest for him - but he thought a proper workout would help strengthen the muscles. Reggie would never be a powerful fighter, certainly he lacked the strength of someone like Duncan, but then so did Karolek himself. If they could get past his attitude, the man could and likely would survive.
An awkward silence settled over Connor's sidewalk, both men lost in their thoughts.
Reggie's mind whirled with the incredible information that he'd been given last night. Immortality. The prospect of living forever, able to do whatever he wanted. Even with his wounds, the idea held some appeal. He could strike back against the Freedom party without fear of permanent damage. Featherston wouldn't be able to do anything to him that would stick. Even death couldn't stop him.
The rest of the story, about swords and beheadings and holy ground had been enough to make him feel ill. Reggie wasn't entirely sure he hadn't thrown up at least once during the conversation.
Karolek tried to plot his next move. Connor had said that he and Reggie could stay as long as they needed, but he had no plans to try and teach the Confederate himself.
"You'll need to get him somewhere where you can teach him, Karolek, and you'll need to do it quickly."
"Yeah, I know." Karolek sighed. Gesturing in the direction of his now empty scotch glass, he asked "Is there more of this?" Connor obliged him with a refill, which the Russian prince began to sip at slowly. "He's got a lot to combat."
Nodding, Connor agreed. "That limp and the arm won't make his life easier, that's for sure. Looks like he's naturally right handed, too. Plus the fact that swordfighting hasn't exactly been en vogue for a century or more." Sipping on his own drink he asked, "So what do you plan to do to correct that?"
"What makes you think I plan to correct it at all?" Karolek raised his eyebrows at the Highlander.
"Because you didn't suggest calling Mackenzie as soon as you opened your mouth." Connor smiled lightly at the indignant look on Karolek's face. "She's the only other left handed fighter that you're close enough with that you could go asking this kind of favor. She's also about the same level of strength as Reggie is likely to be."
"I dunno, Connor." He sighed heavily, staring at the front door. "I don't have any business telling anyone how to live their life. Not lately."
"You'd be talking about Jacob Book, then?" The sardonic look he received from his old friend was answer enough. "So because you had a rough patch you're going to hide? Then why are we doing this? Why in god's name did you go looking for the other Immortal at the bar, and when you found out what he was, why did you drag him back to my house?" He clucked his tongue. "The Karolek I'm friends with doesn't run and hide like this. He never has and never will. If you're not going to help this kid, if all you're going to do is wallow in guilt over bad choices from centuries ago, why are we doing this?"
Why indeed. Karolek didn't have the answers that Connor wanted...he didn't even have the answers that he wanted. He felt all jumbled up inside. The highlander had always felt a sense of personal responsibility, one instilled by Ramirez or so Karolek thought, to ensure that the "good guys" - whoever they were - won the Game and the Prize. Their friendship had developed only after Connor had decided that the Russian had reformed and now WAS one of the good guys. It was a distinction Karo now wondered if he was entitled. Could someone who'd lived his life be good? Or was it all a vain attempt to whitewash a sooted past...
Which brought him back to the question of Reggie, and what to do about the man. He needed a teacher. That much was certain, as was the fact that Connor outright refused to be that Immortal. He hadn't gone looking for Reggie, or so the Highlander explained, and while he was happy to let the young man stay at his home for the time being, the situation was not his responsibility.
'I suppose I could call Mackenzie.' Karolek mused to himself, focusing his slate-gray gaze on a fat pigeon that had landed on the sidewalk opposite the silent Immortals. 'She can teach him how to fight left handed, and she's not very strong which would be an advantage for Reggie. She's...Connor said something about the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii), but that was almost a year ago. She won't stay there long. Redheads fry in the sun there. Even Immortal ones.'
Shaking his head, Karolek decided that was probably dodging the question. Mackenzie was good, loved swords and would be able to fit Reggie to a blade and a fighting style in fairly short order. She was, however, only 160. Connor HAD been younger when he'd taken on Duncan as a student, but the Russian remained unconvinced that the southerner was ready to take on the responsibility of a student who had to be trained from the ground up. There wasn't anyone else he really considered calling in a situation like this. Khan Seh would take the same position as Connor. Kamani was younger than Mackenzie, and Kai, while 2000 years old, wasn't much on students since the last one had tried to kill her in her sleep.
Which left him. A one-time headhunter, trying to train an Immortal without very good odds for surviving in the long run. A young man bitter about his Immortality, cursing a destructive war that had left him with consequences that would never, EVER go away. And never had just become a potentially long time. No wonder Reggie had been sick to his stomach last night. In his position, Karolek probably would have been too.
"So what now?"
Startled, Reggie looked over at Karolek. "What do you mean?" He understood the question - he wasn't that out of it - but not where it came from or what he was supposed to do about much of anything. He was the person whose life had been turned upside down and torn apart, and a 400 year old man was asking him what happened now?
"Where do you want to go from here?" Karolek repeated levelly.
Reggie was surprised. "You're honestly asking me?" The Russian nodded. "I didn't realize I had a whole lot of options."
"You don't." Karolek quipped. "But you do have a few." Tilting his head to one side and fixing his gray eyes on Reggie, he explained, "You're Immortal, Reg. Forever is a long time. No one can be responsible for you but you. You seem like a good guy, and I want you to have a nice long life. But I won't tell you how to live it. I'm not much qualified for that."
"You're 400 years old and you're not qualified to tell me how to survive?"
"Survive, yes." Karolek answered distantly. "But there's a difference between surviving and living. I'm not in any position to tell anyone how to live." He held up a forestalling hand. "Connor will tell you that I'm one of the good guys. Someone who can be trusted. The second part is true. As for the first..."
"As for the first?" Reggie parroted, hoping for an explanation to the cryptic remark. The long silence that followed told him that no matter how long he waited, Karolek was willing to wait longer. As for the prince, he didn't know Reggie well enough to tell the man how he'd spent his late hundreds and early two hundreds. "So...options." Reggie said awkwardly. "What do I get to pick from." Furrowing his brow under brown bangs, he asked, "I am the one who has to pick, right?"
Karolek laughed. "Yes, you are the one that gets to pick. As I see it you have three options. Option number one. You're free to walk away from here, go on living your life as you have been. Hope you can stay out of the way of other Immortals, run away if you do meet up with one. Maybe the guy you'll meet will be a good guy who doesn't want to fight. Maybe they'll be one of the ones who takes the Game seriously and won't let you walk away. It's a crapshoot, really, but it is your life."
"Doesn't sound like much of one." Reggie said thoughtfully. "Go on running for the rest of my life? The only thing I know how to be is a pharmacists assistant, and I can't do that forever. I'm running out of money and places to hide. Thanks, but no thanks. What's option number two?"
"I'll forge you a set of papers and get you to Paris."
"I like the sound of Paris." Reggie interjected.
"I have a friend there, Darius." Karolek continued as though Reggie hadn't spoken. His single-mindedness when he was laying out a plan had driven his generals mad while he was still the Prince of Moscow. He refused to hear anything until he was done speaking his piece. Had he any interest in pursuing the law, that would probably have been a useful characteristic. "Darius is one of us. He runs a church there, and he'll take you in and give you a place on Holy Ground. You'll have to be a monk or a priest for the rest of your life, and never venture off of Holy Ground." The face Reggie made at the suggestion told him everything he needed to know about what the Confederate thought of that suggestion. "It's limiting, I know, but it is an option."
"And not one I particularly like." Reggie confessed. "If I'm Immortal, I want to be able to go places and see things. I..." he paused, trying to decide how best to explain himself. "I grew up in Richmond. My father was a clerk in a bank. When I got out of school, I was apprenticed as a pharmacist's assistant. I served my two years in the army in Richmond. I didn't even leave the state until the war." He laughed sarcastically. "I spent the first two years on the Roanoke front. All I saw was Virginia and Maryland and Pennsylvania. After I was captured and escaped, I was transferred out to Texas. I didn't get to see much or do much then, or when I ran after I died. I've never been out of the CSA or the USA. You and Connor keep telling me that I have forever if I'm lucky and good." Voice low, drawl thickened, he summed up, "If that's really true, I don't want to waste it at a monastery, even if it is in Paris. What's my third option?"
"Your third option is to start training. An Immortal's survival depends on their skill with a sword and their ability to hide both themselves and their means of living." Swallowing hard, Karolek continued, "I can teach you how to survive as an Immortal. If you want me to, I will. It won't be an easy process. I see no point in lying to you about that. You have some disadvantages, but you can be taught to fight around them."
Reggie nodded slowly, biting his lip. "I don't think I can kill anyone, Karolek."
"Everyone thinks that, until they face their first Challenge and their life depends on it. You probably though the same thing, until the first attack wave during the war, right?" The Russian asked of the younger man. Reggie nodded. "No one who served on Roanoke would dispute the idea. Survival comes from the will to keep living. I see every reason to believe that you can and will. Once you learn the basics of how to survive, the sky's the limit. You can do whatever you like."
"So when do we get started?"
"Soon enough." Karolek said with a smile. "Before we do, there's something I need to stress to you. We'll call it your first lesson."
"Okay." Reggie drawled slowly. "What is it?"
"Immortality is a gift. It's not one that mortals readily understand, and it's NOT one you can share with people. If someone like Jake Featherston found out about our kind, you can only imagine what he would do with us. Scientific research, forced mercenary work...nothing good can come of mortal society knowing we exist. Guard this secret carefully, Reginald. What you choose to do with it and whom you choose to tell is your own decision. Be careful."
"I will."
Vaulting to his feet, Karolek extended his hand to Reggie and helped the brown-haired man to his feet. "Good then. Come on."
"Where are we going?" Reggie asked, collecting the two empty coffee mugs.
"Back inside." The blond former prince answered simply. "I need to find Kai and beg the loan of her house in Greece for a little while. It has the benefits of being on Holy Ground and on an island off the coast. It's the best, most isolated place I can think of to start your training that's not my home in Moscow."
Chuckling slightly, Reggie asked, "What's wrong with your house in Moscow? Is it too small or something?"
"Hardly." Karolek laughed, walking up the steps with his new student. "When I was still mortal, I was the prince of Moscow. The house is a palace. But it's still quite cold in Moscow. I'd rather be in the sun for the time being. Plus you grew up in the CSA. It's not exactly the center for cold winter weather. The privation you dealt with in the trenches has NOTHING on a Moscow winter."
"It's March." Reggie pointed out.
"Still winter in Moscow."
Reggie halted at the door, placing a hand to his forehead. "My head hurts again." He complained.
"That's from being so close to me and Connor." Karolek explained, assisting the younger Immortal inside. "You haven't been around many Immortals long enough to really get hit with it before. It'll go away with experience and exposure, and you'll only feel it as a slight sensation. It's a warning to let you know when other Immortals are close by."
Connor came out of the kitchen to see the other two Immortals enter. Reading the look on Reggie's face, he suggested, "Why don't you take the spare bedroom, get some sleep Reggie? You've been up a long time, and had a lot to process, I'm sure."
"Yeah." Reggie drawled. "I think I will. I can't thank y'all enough for helping me out like this."
Connor waved his hand. "Keep your sword away from me and we'll call it even." Reggie departed, leaving the two old friends alone in the living room. "I made some eggs." Connor offered the Russian. "Hungry?"
"Starved" Karolek agreed, meriting a groan from the Highlander. "What? You asked."
"I'd like to have SOME food left in the house when you're done, Karo." Connor complained.
"If they're as bad as the eggs you made the last time you cooked for me, I'll happily continue starving or make my own." Karolek retorted.
The Highlander grinned. "Now we're talking." He thrust the spatula at Karolek. "Heaven knows how you learned, but ye've always been a better cook than me." The Russian rolled his eyes at the gesture and made no comment, but snagged a plate and piled some eggs and a few pieces of safe looking toast on his plate. Taking a hesitant bite, he shrugged his shoulders and reached for the salt. "Not horrible. Not great, but not as bad as the last ones."
"I was drunk when I made the last ones." The Scot defended himself.
"Oh. Right." Karolek said, remembering. He continued to eat his eggs in silence, watching the need to have information start to weigh on the Highlander.
"Well?" Connor prompted.
"Well what?" Karolek returned.
Connor raised his eyebrows at the Russian. If Karolek had returned to being this intentionally obtuse, it could only mean one thing. He'd made his decision, Connor had been right, and the prince had no intention of telling the Highlander so. "Heh heh. Where are you taking him?"
"Taking who?"
"Your new student." Connor insisted.
Karolek looked over at Connor. His gray eyes were pale, no emotion visible within. "What new student, Connor?"
Now the Scot was confused. "So that speech Reggie gave when he came back in was what? Good Southern manners?"
"The y'all and the thank you?" Karolek laughed. "You've met Mackenzie. Y'all comes out of their mouth all the time, doesn't mean anything. And manners are very important to the South."
"Now you're just acting this way to be a pain."
Laughing harder, Karolek confessed that Connor was right. "He's my new student."
"So where are you taking him?" Connor repeated his earlier question. "It's not that you're not welcome here, but this is hardly an ideal place for lessons with a sword."
"No." Karolek agreed. "Far too crowded. People would notice. You remember Kai?"
"The Roman?" Connor asked. "The slave from Caesar's household?"
"One and the same." Karolek acknowledged. He'd met Kai about 200 years ago, and the ancient Immortal had taken him on as a pseudo-student, honing some of his skills with a sword. In addition to being a good fighter and a good friend, Kai was something of a financial wizard. She'd taught him how to hide his money in places where no one would ever find it, as well as how to shuffle real estate and other important holdings through his 'progeny' without anyone being suspicious about the constant reoccurrence of the name Karolek. In return for the lessons, Karolek had caught up to the student who had tried to kill her and taught him a pretty thorough lesson about loyalty. "She owes me a pretty big favor. Has a house in Greece that's perfect for this."
"And she's just going to hand you the keys?"
"Yes." Karolek grinned. "Because I am sweet and lovable and she likes me." Connor made some gagging noises in the background. "It's not my fault that Duncan and I beat you to all the ladies, Connor. Maybe you need to polish your skills in that area, some."
"Do you want to get tossed out of my house?" Connor asked rhetorically. "Is that where this is going?"
~~~~~~~~ Two weeks later
"Mail." Connor called out as he entered the house. "Package. Feels heavy."
"Great." Karolek said, coming to take the small box from the Highlander. "Kai said she'd have her lawyers send the keys to the place and a note for the groundskeepers to keep them from coming out to the place while we're there." Slicing open the tape with the dagger from the back of his neck, he took a quick inventory of the contents. "Looks like it's all here."
"How are we getting there?" Reggie asked, walking out of the kitchen and wiping his hands on a towel. While not a great cook, the confederate was proficient enough that the older Immortals had basically insisted that he take a turn at the stove as well. Every three nights, they found themselves eating fried chicken or ham, because they were the only things Reggie actually knew how to cook.
"Ship to Spain, then another through the Med to Greece. Then we need to get a smaller local boat that we can run out to Lyskos. Kai's house is on the end of the island, completely by itself. The only village near Lyskos is on another island, nearly 3 miles away. It's more than private enough for our purposes. We leave tomorrow, so make sure everything is packed." Looking through a sheaf of papers, he asked, "Did you look at the information on your passport?"
"Sure." Reggie nodded. "Reggie Martin, from Washington DC. Pleased to meet y'all."
"You might want to consider loosing the y'all." Connor suggested. "Accents that are too identifiable as belonging to one country or another are an easy way to stick out."
Reggie considered this. "Karolek still has his."
"Karolek isn't very smart."
"I am still in the room, Connor." Karolek pointed out. "And I think the chicken is burning, Reggie." The southerner dashed off into the kitchen to check on dinner.
"He's a good guy." Connor mused aloud. "He'll do well."
"Presuming I don't screw him up, da." Karolek agreed. "He'll be fine."
"He will." The highlander insisted. "And so will you. If I didn't think you could handle this, Karo, I'd step in and say so."
"Well you never have been one for mincing words." The Russian conceded.
Connor placed the flat case which held Book's schiavona on the counter. "Take this."
Hesitantly, Karolek reached for the sword case. He laid a gentle hand on the top, as if expecting the wood, leather, and metal to burn his fingers. When nothing happened, he slid the case closer and snapped open the hinges. He opened it to expose the dead Immortal's sword, the blued steel of the basket hilt dully reflecting the light. The silver steel of the blade winked back at him, a reminder. "You think it's right?"
Connor nodded. "A sword like this was made for a fighter. Reggie will prove to be that, in time. Perhaps giving it to a good man will negate the bad that was done with it by its previous owner." He shrugged.
"That's very profound." Karolek muttered.
"Sound less surprised, will you?" The Highlander instructed his friend indignantly. He received a snort in return. "Heal yourself, Karolek. It starts here. It ends with that," He pointed to the blade, "in Reggie's hands and him well trained. In between...who knows what you can do for him and for yourself."
The two men embraced quickly. "-Thank you, Connor.-" Karolek said sincerely. "For everything."
"-You're welcome.-" Connor replied.
"Hey Karolek! Connor!" Reggie's southern drawl called from the kitchen. "How do you feel about Cajun chicken for dinner?"
"Why do I get the feeling he's talking about carbon blackened and not the Cajun kind?"
Connor chuckled. "Because occasionally you can be perceptive in spite of yourself."
"Why thank you, Connor." Karolek groused. "You've swept me off my feet."
"Come on." Connor put his arm around his friend. "Let's go eat and celebrate this new adventure you're embarking on. Who knows, you might even make it out alive."
"-Wonderful.-"
Chapter 2: Decisions, Decisions
Disclaimer: Still not mine. But oh, if they were.
He felt the other man approach long before he acknowledged him. After several long minutes of silence, Reggie complained, "I don't like this."
"There's a lot about it not to like." Karolek agreed. He placed a mug of coffee next to the young Confederate, before sitting down next to him on the sidewalk. Reggie barely acknowledged his presence, continuing to stare straight ahead at the edge of the walk across the street. It was too late...or rather too early, for many people to be out. Understandably, Reggie had been feeling stressed and confined within Connor's living room, and had retreated to the front steps to think. It wasn't quite far enough to escape the headache-inducing presence of Karolek and Connor, so he'd gone only as far as the curb. Connor's intense warning not to go away from the house had frightened him too much to actually test the man's good will. "But there's good about it, too."
Reggie laughed sarcastically, looking through haunted brown eyes at the eternally youthful Russian next to him. "Yeah, the idea of being a cripple for a couple of centuries carries a lot of appeal." He looked down at his outstretched leg. "Goddamn war ruined everything, didn't it."
Karolek wisely opted to say nothing at the moment. He wasn't sure there was much he could say. He didn't know where Reggie was coming from. The Confederate had been a full 15 years older than Karolek when he died his first death, and had a legitimate complaint about his war wounds. Shrapnel had left him with a weak right shoulder and a slight limp in his right leg. He wasn't much of a doctor - the field had never held much interest for him - but he thought a proper workout would help strengthen the muscles. Reggie would never be a powerful fighter, certainly he lacked the strength of someone like Duncan, but then so did Karolek himself. If they could get past his attitude, the man could and likely would survive.
An awkward silence settled over Connor's sidewalk, both men lost in their thoughts.
Reggie's mind whirled with the incredible information that he'd been given last night. Immortality. The prospect of living forever, able to do whatever he wanted. Even with his wounds, the idea held some appeal. He could strike back against the Freedom party without fear of permanent damage. Featherston wouldn't be able to do anything to him that would stick. Even death couldn't stop him.
The rest of the story, about swords and beheadings and holy ground had been enough to make him feel ill. Reggie wasn't entirely sure he hadn't thrown up at least once during the conversation.
Karolek tried to plot his next move. Connor had said that he and Reggie could stay as long as they needed, but he had no plans to try and teach the Confederate himself.
"You'll need to get him somewhere where you can teach him, Karolek, and you'll need to do it quickly."
"Yeah, I know." Karolek sighed. Gesturing in the direction of his now empty scotch glass, he asked "Is there more of this?" Connor obliged him with a refill, which the Russian prince began to sip at slowly. "He's got a lot to combat."
Nodding, Connor agreed. "That limp and the arm won't make his life easier, that's for sure. Looks like he's naturally right handed, too. Plus the fact that swordfighting hasn't exactly been en vogue for a century or more." Sipping on his own drink he asked, "So what do you plan to do to correct that?"
"What makes you think I plan to correct it at all?" Karolek raised his eyebrows at the Highlander.
"Because you didn't suggest calling Mackenzie as soon as you opened your mouth." Connor smiled lightly at the indignant look on Karolek's face. "She's the only other left handed fighter that you're close enough with that you could go asking this kind of favor. She's also about the same level of strength as Reggie is likely to be."
"I dunno, Connor." He sighed heavily, staring at the front door. "I don't have any business telling anyone how to live their life. Not lately."
"You'd be talking about Jacob Book, then?" The sardonic look he received from his old friend was answer enough. "So because you had a rough patch you're going to hide? Then why are we doing this? Why in god's name did you go looking for the other Immortal at the bar, and when you found out what he was, why did you drag him back to my house?" He clucked his tongue. "The Karolek I'm friends with doesn't run and hide like this. He never has and never will. If you're not going to help this kid, if all you're going to do is wallow in guilt over bad choices from centuries ago, why are we doing this?"
Why indeed. Karolek didn't have the answers that Connor wanted...he didn't even have the answers that he wanted. He felt all jumbled up inside. The highlander had always felt a sense of personal responsibility, one instilled by Ramirez or so Karolek thought, to ensure that the "good guys" - whoever they were - won the Game and the Prize. Their friendship had developed only after Connor had decided that the Russian had reformed and now WAS one of the good guys. It was a distinction Karo now wondered if he was entitled. Could someone who'd lived his life be good? Or was it all a vain attempt to whitewash a sooted past...
Which brought him back to the question of Reggie, and what to do about the man. He needed a teacher. That much was certain, as was the fact that Connor outright refused to be that Immortal. He hadn't gone looking for Reggie, or so the Highlander explained, and while he was happy to let the young man stay at his home for the time being, the situation was not his responsibility.
'I suppose I could call Mackenzie.' Karolek mused to himself, focusing his slate-gray gaze on a fat pigeon that had landed on the sidewalk opposite the silent Immortals. 'She can teach him how to fight left handed, and she's not very strong which would be an advantage for Reggie. She's...Connor said something about the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii), but that was almost a year ago. She won't stay there long. Redheads fry in the sun there. Even Immortal ones.'
Shaking his head, Karolek decided that was probably dodging the question. Mackenzie was good, loved swords and would be able to fit Reggie to a blade and a fighting style in fairly short order. She was, however, only 160. Connor HAD been younger when he'd taken on Duncan as a student, but the Russian remained unconvinced that the southerner was ready to take on the responsibility of a student who had to be trained from the ground up. There wasn't anyone else he really considered calling in a situation like this. Khan Seh would take the same position as Connor. Kamani was younger than Mackenzie, and Kai, while 2000 years old, wasn't much on students since the last one had tried to kill her in her sleep.
Which left him. A one-time headhunter, trying to train an Immortal without very good odds for surviving in the long run. A young man bitter about his Immortality, cursing a destructive war that had left him with consequences that would never, EVER go away. And never had just become a potentially long time. No wonder Reggie had been sick to his stomach last night. In his position, Karolek probably would have been too.
"So what now?"
Startled, Reggie looked over at Karolek. "What do you mean?" He understood the question - he wasn't that out of it - but not where it came from or what he was supposed to do about much of anything. He was the person whose life had been turned upside down and torn apart, and a 400 year old man was asking him what happened now?
"Where do you want to go from here?" Karolek repeated levelly.
Reggie was surprised. "You're honestly asking me?" The Russian nodded. "I didn't realize I had a whole lot of options."
"You don't." Karolek quipped. "But you do have a few." Tilting his head to one side and fixing his gray eyes on Reggie, he explained, "You're Immortal, Reg. Forever is a long time. No one can be responsible for you but you. You seem like a good guy, and I want you to have a nice long life. But I won't tell you how to live it. I'm not much qualified for that."
"You're 400 years old and you're not qualified to tell me how to survive?"
"Survive, yes." Karolek answered distantly. "But there's a difference between surviving and living. I'm not in any position to tell anyone how to live." He held up a forestalling hand. "Connor will tell you that I'm one of the good guys. Someone who can be trusted. The second part is true. As for the first..."
"As for the first?" Reggie parroted, hoping for an explanation to the cryptic remark. The long silence that followed told him that no matter how long he waited, Karolek was willing to wait longer. As for the prince, he didn't know Reggie well enough to tell the man how he'd spent his late hundreds and early two hundreds. "So...options." Reggie said awkwardly. "What do I get to pick from." Furrowing his brow under brown bangs, he asked, "I am the one who has to pick, right?"
Karolek laughed. "Yes, you are the one that gets to pick. As I see it you have three options. Option number one. You're free to walk away from here, go on living your life as you have been. Hope you can stay out of the way of other Immortals, run away if you do meet up with one. Maybe the guy you'll meet will be a good guy who doesn't want to fight. Maybe they'll be one of the ones who takes the Game seriously and won't let you walk away. It's a crapshoot, really, but it is your life."
"Doesn't sound like much of one." Reggie said thoughtfully. "Go on running for the rest of my life? The only thing I know how to be is a pharmacists assistant, and I can't do that forever. I'm running out of money and places to hide. Thanks, but no thanks. What's option number two?"
"I'll forge you a set of papers and get you to Paris."
"I like the sound of Paris." Reggie interjected.
"I have a friend there, Darius." Karolek continued as though Reggie hadn't spoken. His single-mindedness when he was laying out a plan had driven his generals mad while he was still the Prince of Moscow. He refused to hear anything until he was done speaking his piece. Had he any interest in pursuing the law, that would probably have been a useful characteristic. "Darius is one of us. He runs a church there, and he'll take you in and give you a place on Holy Ground. You'll have to be a monk or a priest for the rest of your life, and never venture off of Holy Ground." The face Reggie made at the suggestion told him everything he needed to know about what the Confederate thought of that suggestion. "It's limiting, I know, but it is an option."
"And not one I particularly like." Reggie confessed. "If I'm Immortal, I want to be able to go places and see things. I..." he paused, trying to decide how best to explain himself. "I grew up in Richmond. My father was a clerk in a bank. When I got out of school, I was apprenticed as a pharmacist's assistant. I served my two years in the army in Richmond. I didn't even leave the state until the war." He laughed sarcastically. "I spent the first two years on the Roanoke front. All I saw was Virginia and Maryland and Pennsylvania. After I was captured and escaped, I was transferred out to Texas. I didn't get to see much or do much then, or when I ran after I died. I've never been out of the CSA or the USA. You and Connor keep telling me that I have forever if I'm lucky and good." Voice low, drawl thickened, he summed up, "If that's really true, I don't want to waste it at a monastery, even if it is in Paris. What's my third option?"
"Your third option is to start training. An Immortal's survival depends on their skill with a sword and their ability to hide both themselves and their means of living." Swallowing hard, Karolek continued, "I can teach you how to survive as an Immortal. If you want me to, I will. It won't be an easy process. I see no point in lying to you about that. You have some disadvantages, but you can be taught to fight around them."
Reggie nodded slowly, biting his lip. "I don't think I can kill anyone, Karolek."
"Everyone thinks that, until they face their first Challenge and their life depends on it. You probably though the same thing, until the first attack wave during the war, right?" The Russian asked of the younger man. Reggie nodded. "No one who served on Roanoke would dispute the idea. Survival comes from the will to keep living. I see every reason to believe that you can and will. Once you learn the basics of how to survive, the sky's the limit. You can do whatever you like."
"So when do we get started?"
"Soon enough." Karolek said with a smile. "Before we do, there's something I need to stress to you. We'll call it your first lesson."
"Okay." Reggie drawled slowly. "What is it?"
"Immortality is a gift. It's not one that mortals readily understand, and it's NOT one you can share with people. If someone like Jake Featherston found out about our kind, you can only imagine what he would do with us. Scientific research, forced mercenary work...nothing good can come of mortal society knowing we exist. Guard this secret carefully, Reginald. What you choose to do with it and whom you choose to tell is your own decision. Be careful."
"I will."
Vaulting to his feet, Karolek extended his hand to Reggie and helped the brown-haired man to his feet. "Good then. Come on."
"Where are we going?" Reggie asked, collecting the two empty coffee mugs.
"Back inside." The blond former prince answered simply. "I need to find Kai and beg the loan of her house in Greece for a little while. It has the benefits of being on Holy Ground and on an island off the coast. It's the best, most isolated place I can think of to start your training that's not my home in Moscow."
Chuckling slightly, Reggie asked, "What's wrong with your house in Moscow? Is it too small or something?"
"Hardly." Karolek laughed, walking up the steps with his new student. "When I was still mortal, I was the prince of Moscow. The house is a palace. But it's still quite cold in Moscow. I'd rather be in the sun for the time being. Plus you grew up in the CSA. It's not exactly the center for cold winter weather. The privation you dealt with in the trenches has NOTHING on a Moscow winter."
"It's March." Reggie pointed out.
"Still winter in Moscow."
Reggie halted at the door, placing a hand to his forehead. "My head hurts again." He complained.
"That's from being so close to me and Connor." Karolek explained, assisting the younger Immortal inside. "You haven't been around many Immortals long enough to really get hit with it before. It'll go away with experience and exposure, and you'll only feel it as a slight sensation. It's a warning to let you know when other Immortals are close by."
Connor came out of the kitchen to see the other two Immortals enter. Reading the look on Reggie's face, he suggested, "Why don't you take the spare bedroom, get some sleep Reggie? You've been up a long time, and had a lot to process, I'm sure."
"Yeah." Reggie drawled. "I think I will. I can't thank y'all enough for helping me out like this."
Connor waved his hand. "Keep your sword away from me and we'll call it even." Reggie departed, leaving the two old friends alone in the living room. "I made some eggs." Connor offered the Russian. "Hungry?"
"Starved" Karolek agreed, meriting a groan from the Highlander. "What? You asked."
"I'd like to have SOME food left in the house when you're done, Karo." Connor complained.
"If they're as bad as the eggs you made the last time you cooked for me, I'll happily continue starving or make my own." Karolek retorted.
The Highlander grinned. "Now we're talking." He thrust the spatula at Karolek. "Heaven knows how you learned, but ye've always been a better cook than me." The Russian rolled his eyes at the gesture and made no comment, but snagged a plate and piled some eggs and a few pieces of safe looking toast on his plate. Taking a hesitant bite, he shrugged his shoulders and reached for the salt. "Not horrible. Not great, but not as bad as the last ones."
"I was drunk when I made the last ones." The Scot defended himself.
"Oh. Right." Karolek said, remembering. He continued to eat his eggs in silence, watching the need to have information start to weigh on the Highlander.
"Well?" Connor prompted.
"Well what?" Karolek returned.
Connor raised his eyebrows at the Russian. If Karolek had returned to being this intentionally obtuse, it could only mean one thing. He'd made his decision, Connor had been right, and the prince had no intention of telling the Highlander so. "Heh heh. Where are you taking him?"
"Taking who?"
"Your new student." Connor insisted.
Karolek looked over at Connor. His gray eyes were pale, no emotion visible within. "What new student, Connor?"
Now the Scot was confused. "So that speech Reggie gave when he came back in was what? Good Southern manners?"
"The y'all and the thank you?" Karolek laughed. "You've met Mackenzie. Y'all comes out of their mouth all the time, doesn't mean anything. And manners are very important to the South."
"Now you're just acting this way to be a pain."
Laughing harder, Karolek confessed that Connor was right. "He's my new student."
"So where are you taking him?" Connor repeated his earlier question. "It's not that you're not welcome here, but this is hardly an ideal place for lessons with a sword."
"No." Karolek agreed. "Far too crowded. People would notice. You remember Kai?"
"The Roman?" Connor asked. "The slave from Caesar's household?"
"One and the same." Karolek acknowledged. He'd met Kai about 200 years ago, and the ancient Immortal had taken him on as a pseudo-student, honing some of his skills with a sword. In addition to being a good fighter and a good friend, Kai was something of a financial wizard. She'd taught him how to hide his money in places where no one would ever find it, as well as how to shuffle real estate and other important holdings through his 'progeny' without anyone being suspicious about the constant reoccurrence of the name Karolek. In return for the lessons, Karolek had caught up to the student who had tried to kill her and taught him a pretty thorough lesson about loyalty. "She owes me a pretty big favor. Has a house in Greece that's perfect for this."
"And she's just going to hand you the keys?"
"Yes." Karolek grinned. "Because I am sweet and lovable and she likes me." Connor made some gagging noises in the background. "It's not my fault that Duncan and I beat you to all the ladies, Connor. Maybe you need to polish your skills in that area, some."
"Do you want to get tossed out of my house?" Connor asked rhetorically. "Is that where this is going?"
~~~~~~~~ Two weeks later
"Mail." Connor called out as he entered the house. "Package. Feels heavy."
"Great." Karolek said, coming to take the small box from the Highlander. "Kai said she'd have her lawyers send the keys to the place and a note for the groundskeepers to keep them from coming out to the place while we're there." Slicing open the tape with the dagger from the back of his neck, he took a quick inventory of the contents. "Looks like it's all here."
"How are we getting there?" Reggie asked, walking out of the kitchen and wiping his hands on a towel. While not a great cook, the confederate was proficient enough that the older Immortals had basically insisted that he take a turn at the stove as well. Every three nights, they found themselves eating fried chicken or ham, because they were the only things Reggie actually knew how to cook.
"Ship to Spain, then another through the Med to Greece. Then we need to get a smaller local boat that we can run out to Lyskos. Kai's house is on the end of the island, completely by itself. The only village near Lyskos is on another island, nearly 3 miles away. It's more than private enough for our purposes. We leave tomorrow, so make sure everything is packed." Looking through a sheaf of papers, he asked, "Did you look at the information on your passport?"
"Sure." Reggie nodded. "Reggie Martin, from Washington DC. Pleased to meet y'all."
"You might want to consider loosing the y'all." Connor suggested. "Accents that are too identifiable as belonging to one country or another are an easy way to stick out."
Reggie considered this. "Karolek still has his."
"Karolek isn't very smart."
"I am still in the room, Connor." Karolek pointed out. "And I think the chicken is burning, Reggie." The southerner dashed off into the kitchen to check on dinner.
"He's a good guy." Connor mused aloud. "He'll do well."
"Presuming I don't screw him up, da." Karolek agreed. "He'll be fine."
"He will." The highlander insisted. "And so will you. If I didn't think you could handle this, Karo, I'd step in and say so."
"Well you never have been one for mincing words." The Russian conceded.
Connor placed the flat case which held Book's schiavona on the counter. "Take this."
Hesitantly, Karolek reached for the sword case. He laid a gentle hand on the top, as if expecting the wood, leather, and metal to burn his fingers. When nothing happened, he slid the case closer and snapped open the hinges. He opened it to expose the dead Immortal's sword, the blued steel of the basket hilt dully reflecting the light. The silver steel of the blade winked back at him, a reminder. "You think it's right?"
Connor nodded. "A sword like this was made for a fighter. Reggie will prove to be that, in time. Perhaps giving it to a good man will negate the bad that was done with it by its previous owner." He shrugged.
"That's very profound." Karolek muttered.
"Sound less surprised, will you?" The Highlander instructed his friend indignantly. He received a snort in return. "Heal yourself, Karolek. It starts here. It ends with that," He pointed to the blade, "in Reggie's hands and him well trained. In between...who knows what you can do for him and for yourself."
The two men embraced quickly. "-Thank you, Connor.-" Karolek said sincerely. "For everything."
"-You're welcome.-" Connor replied.
"Hey Karolek! Connor!" Reggie's southern drawl called from the kitchen. "How do you feel about Cajun chicken for dinner?"
"Why do I get the feeling he's talking about carbon blackened and not the Cajun kind?"
Connor chuckled. "Because occasionally you can be perceptive in spite of yourself."
"Why thank you, Connor." Karolek groused. "You've swept me off my feet."
"Come on." Connor put his arm around his friend. "Let's go eat and celebrate this new adventure you're embarking on. Who knows, you might even make it out alive."
"-Wonderful.-"
