Chapter Thirty-Three
Aboard the Lady Ambergris II:

Adding another member to their group had meant some re-thinking of sleeping arrangements. Wingate had moved his things into Burke's cabin with a shrug. "I'm usually piloting at night," he'd said. "I can sleep during the day." Masahiro then took Wingate's cabin.

They'd turned south from Japan and headed into the South China Sea. Even after crossing the equator and heading into the Southern Hemisphere where it was technically winter, they noted little change in the heat. Weather reports indicated high temperatures and melting ice in the north. There were warnings of additional icebergs in the sea-lanes.

As the ship raced before the wind though, the immortals felt only the sea breeze. If they stood at the rail, they could see herds of porpoises and whales sounding in the distance. Above them in the clear blue of the cloudless sky seagulls flew and circled. Once, Burke pointed out an unusually large bird.

"Albatross," Wingate told him. "They're sacred to mariners."

Hearing his words, Amber recalled the Coleridge poem about the seaman who killed an albatross… and how he'd had to wander the world for years on end… immortal until he learned to love "both man and bird and beast." She shivered despite the heat and gazed at the pilothouse where Derrick lounged comfortably in the chair steering their way. Do ya know where we're goin'? she thought. Do ya have a plan?

The sound of steel caught her attention as Masahiro worked with David and Michelle on improving their skills. Neither of the pair of young immortals was very good. Burke's skills, of course, were unknown… while she and Wingate both seemed more than adequate.

Masahiro paired them off against one another and paced around them, calling out commands or occasionally moving a foot or an arm to a different position. Amber let her mind wander back to her own training days as time after time, just when she thought she had a move perfected… Connor would do something else and his blade would end up on her throat. She never had bested him… not once. There were times she still felt bereft at his loss. He'd been so skilled… she couldn't imagine what had made him give up. Oh she'd known he was depressed… and coming out of Sanctuary that way with Jacob Kell taunting him and his being rusty… she understood that… but to just give up? Amber shook her head. It still made no sense… it wasn't the Connor she'd known.

Wingate and Burke were getting into the sparring match now. At least Wingate was. Burke seemed to hang on the edge of the group… looking at them numbly. Wingate waved at Amber to join. She pushed off of the rail, easily drawing her cutlass as she and Wingate began to spar. As with the others, Masahiro called commands at them but did not adjust their stance or their arms.

The air rang with the sounds of steel.

Then Burke let out a strangled scream of anguish and everyone froze. The man had clapped both hands to his head and with his eyes closed, had sunk to his knees moaning, "No! No! No!"

Wingate rushed to his side to calm him, but Burke shoved him away and snatched Wingate's sword from the man's hand and backed away from them all… swinging it about before him. Screams of pain continued to sound from him.

It was then that Derrick joined them from the pilothouse. He pushed through them… spread his arms wide and smiled. "Burke. You're safe with us. No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt anyone." He stepped forward and reached out toward Burke.

Amber's stomach lurched. Was he a fool? What if Burke landed a blow? But he didn't. Instead… Derrick's soft voice seemed to make an impact on the big man. He dropped his arms, sank to his knees and began to weep. Derrick leaned over him, murmuring softly as one would to a child. He cradled Burke's head and then easily lifted Wingate's sword from Burke's lax hand. He tossed it to Wingate.

As the sobbing eased, and Burke seemed calmer, Derrick motioned for Wingate to take his friend below. Wingate handed his sword to Masahiro and did so.

The immortals watched silently as the two men left.

Finally, once they were out of sight, Michelle asked, "Now what was that about?"

David shook his head. "Something sure upset him."

"I think he killed someone," Derrick said sadly. "Someone he either didn't want to… or didn't mean to."

Masahiro nodded with a grunt. "Hai! I have heard of such things happening to some of us. Sometimes in the heat of battle, one is faced with killing a lover, a student, or a mentor. If one is not prepared… it can overwhelm one." He looked meaningfully at Derrick who shrugged and headed back to the pilothouse.

Amber watched him go… her thoughts still on Connor MacLeod… and on the man who killed him… his kinsman… Duncan. She'd yet to confront the younger Highlander. She'd yet to ask him why.

Later in their bunk that night, Derrick made love to her slowly and carefully… almost sadly. When finished, he drew her curled body into his arms as one hand curled her hair around one of his fingers and he kissed it.

"Are ya thinkin' of Burke?" Amber asked after some time.

"No… us."

Amber shifted so that her face was inches from his. "About what might happen some day? Do ya really think we'll have no choice?"

Derrick sighed. "I don't know. I know now why you were so reluctant for the others to come…why you were even reluctant to be with me. Killing Kobe… taking what he was into me… I finally understand so many things."

"Like what?"

"Like why my sister and her husband always seemed so sad. Why sometimes when they argued… I thought the air was charged with power. They feared killing one another more than anything else, I think."

"Aye. Connor always warned me not to get involved with one of us. It's why he always kept me at arm's length." She snuggled even closer; her hands running playfully over the hard muscles of his arm as she felt him stir again near her legs. "I don't know if I could stand it… havin' to kill ya."

Derrick laughed and kissed her eyes. "What makes you think I'd let you?" Then he kissed her mouth firmly, his tongue teasing the inner recesses of her mouth, and the conversation ended as their need for one another grew once more.

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Niebos:

When Kenny awakened this time, he saw and felt only the one immortal. Rising up to rest on his elbows, he stared at the dark-haired man studying some files while he sat evidently watching over the boy. He lifted his gaze as Kenny rose and smiled.

"You're awake. You're moving better this time too," he said pleasantly.

Kenny opened his mouth to reply… and nothing came out but a garbled sound.

The man rose. "Speech will come back later. At least we hope so. You're only the second to awaken." He pushed the call button clipped to Kenny's pillow.

Something in the way he moved brought a memory into focus. Kenny pulled back from him. In some dream he'd had… this man had killed him.

Sadness flashed over the man's face. "You remember the dream." He looked away guiltily.

Feeling another immortal, Kenny looked away and saw Eleanor arrive, holding Denara's hand. Eleanor smiled openly at him and, after patting the man's arm; she stood next to Kenny's bedside. "How do you feel? Give me a thumb's up?"

Kenny snickered a bit, his gaze traveled to the foot of his bed where the small Denara stood looking back at him. He looked at her thoughtfully. He knew Denara… had known her for centuries. He'd tried to trick her off of the convent grounds several times to take her head. She'd never gone for it, of course. She might be very small, but she was also very wise. Like him, she was an old woman trapped in the body of a child. He noted that she was not carrying a stuffed animal with her. Odd… she always had it. Inside she hid her blade.

Denara winked at him and leaned on the footboard.

Slowly Kenny gave Eleanor a thumb's up sign.

"Good. Hungry?"

Kenny nodded. He was famished. He felt like he hadn't eaten in years. His stomach growled in anticipation. Eleanor laughed. "I'll get you something." She turned away and Kenny reached out for her hand, holding it. Eleanor looked back at him. "You want me to stay?"

Kenny nodded and then gazed angrily at the man.

"Oh… you don't trust Greg," Eleanor realized. "Not to worry. He's worked very hard to bring you back to us. Unless you challenge him… I don't think he'll bother you," she laughed.

Kenny narrowed his eyes and curled his lip at Greg who still looked guilty. The boy jerked at Eleanor's hand and looked up at her trying to ask her what had happened. Only a mangled sound emitted from his throat. He pounded his free hand on the sheet and made a writing motion.

"You'll likely find you can't write, either," Eleanor said softly. "It will come back. It's like a mild stroke in mortals. We don't clearly understand it… but we do think you'll improve."

Greg said something about getting Kenny some food and left as Eleanor drew up the chair and leaned onto the bed, now holding Kenny's hand with both of hers. Denara still stood at the foot of the bed, watching him.

"As to what happened… that's a long story. Wherever you were… whatever you were doing… you were killed. There was a man who wanted to be one of us. He collected immortals, kept them drugged and experimented on them. He linked you and Greg together for an experiment and within the dream, Greg tells me he killed you… but that somehow… your thoughts became entangled with his for a while. Once some of us discovered what was happening and freed all of you, some awakened… some didn't. We've been caring for the ones who didn't awaken in hopes that they would." Eleanor smiled at him. "We wanted each of you to have another chance. That man should never have interfered."

Kenny lay back on the pillow thinking about her explanation. He did recall being shot somewhere in Germany. He'd been hunting and had been fairly successful. Then he'd felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest and had seen blood bloom there. The next thing he recalled were images of an operating room and being strapped down. That's when the vision became really weird, as he'd somehow been both the doctor and the patient. And then he'd found himself trapped in the well. Interspersed in these more dominant visions were ones of other immortals sometimes being there… or of watching immortals as they fought to the death in some arena. But nothing except the well had seemed tangible and real.

He drew up his legs slightly and then extended them, as if to be certain that they still worked.

"After you've eaten… we'll get you up. Your immortal presence is strong and you should recover quickly now that you're awake. You're just stiff and you haven't moved in a while."

Kenny shook his head at her and tried again to ask a question. Nothing came out that made sense, but she seemed to understand what he wanted to know.

"Twelve years," she said sadly. "We've been caring for you for twelve years."

Kenny's heart pounded so loudly that it was all he could hear for the moment. Twelve years? And no one had taken his head? Why? Why not? He would have. He would have at the first opportunity. He would have killed any of them who'd been unconscious. It was the rules of the game. A wave of unaccustomed nausea moved through him and he felt dizzy and somehow not clearly here. For a moment… the well glimmered about him… the well… where he was safe. Angrily he pushed that thought away. He would not return there! If he were unconscious, he couldn't protect himself! Kenny screamed in frustration, venting all of his anger and denial into that one sound.

-----

"There he goes again," Chou remarked, looking out at Phillip climbing the mountain. "It'll be low tide soon."

J. D. sat up in the tall grass and watched his uncle make his way up the twisting path. "Why doesn't he just take the bad one's head?"

Chou met Denis' gaze and they both shrugged. "Oh… it's holy ground there. So Phillip just keeps watch. Besides, he was a boy here… it's part of his religion to go there."

Chewing on a long stalk of drying grass, J. D. somehow doubted that some ancient religious fervor made Phillip climb that mountain day in and day out. "I'd like to see that immortal… really see him. If it's holy ground… he couldn't hurt us."

Denis replied and rolled over on his stomach. He didn't think going there was such a good idea. Nestor had always been a slippery one… and Denis didn't want J. D. anywhere near there… nor, he was certain, did Eleanor. Phillip and Reagan Cole had taken the possessed Valeraine there for a reason… and Denis hoped it was to somehow bring her back to herself one day. A cold bead of perspiration formed and ran down the side of his dark face. He and Chou had been charged with keeping an eye on the boy… keeping him safe… keeping him out of any danger. Being anywhere near Valeraine wouldn't be safe.

As if the same thought had occurred to him, Chou leaped to his feet. "Let's practice!" he suggested. Before long, the three boys were stick fighting… two against one and then each on their own as if it were a melee. J. D. was surprising agile for one so young, and he was quick study. Chou and Denis had been warned by Phillip to never use bladed weapons around the boy… but not to exclude him if he wanted to participate. After all… the more he learned… the better he'd be when the day came… if it came. If the boy suspected anything… he didn't let on.

An hour later, sweaty, grimy, and out of breath… the three boys stopped.

"I feel like swimming," J. D. said with a wicked grin. He arched his brows several times, winked and took off up the mountain path. Chou and Denis followed.

-----

After his return from the cove, Phillip stopped by the hospital. He knew Kenny was awake and knew he best face the predatory youth so that the boy wouldn't get any ideas. As he entered the private room they'd moved Kenny to before he'd awakened… mainly so he wouldn't sense the others still lying in their coma-like state… Phillip paused to watch Eleanor assist the boy in walking from his bedside to a nearby chair. Kenny felt Phillip's approach and stared at him nervously.

"Not to worry, lad. If I'd wanted your head… I'd have had it years ago." He smiled, but there was an implicit warning in his words and tone that even Eleanor caught.

Kenny snorted slightly and turned away to grasp Eleanor's hand more tightly, as if he were weaker than he was. Phillip noted the boy's chicanery and wondered if Eleanor saw anything but a small boy trapped in a body that was all too vulnerable. He wondered if she were thinking of her own children… and the fears they all had of what might happen to them.

"Ready to go," Denara said and reached her arms up to him. She liked him to carry her sometimes… but only when she asked it.

Phillip leaned over and let her clasp her hands about his neck. He lifted her up and settled her into the crook of his arm. She laid her head on his chest and said softly. "I don't trust him."

Phillip nodded before replying softly as he turned to carry her out. "Neither do I."

"Someone has to watch him."

"Someone will," Phillip assured her. "Someone will."

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