Pt. 7

Galen winced as Dr. Chambers examined the cut on his hand. "That is still attached to me, Doctor." he commented, pulling a glove over his hand before she could poke at it again. He had been aboard the Excalibur only a few hours, having rendezvoused with her after the ship's stopover at Babylon 5. He was already regretting mentioning the events he had witnessed to Gideon, who had immediately insisted on sending him to Doctor Chambers for a full medical evaluation.

"Sorry." Sarah replied absently. She stared at his gloved hand for a moment longer then went back to her desk. "And you say that injury just appeared there after the vision?"

"Yes, Doctor. As I explained, there was no exposed metal in the chair or any sharp edges on my staff that could have been responsible for this. One minute I was fine, the next minute I was bleeding all over my coat."

Dureena, who had walked in during his explanation of his injury, stared worriedly up at him from her chair. "My people would say you were possessed by the spirits of the dead. That can be a dangerous thing."

"And a fascinating thing as well." Galen protested. "My order believes in knowing all things that can be known. This event is just another mystery to be solved, another fact to be added to our storehouse of knowledge. Nothing more."

"Except that this isn't anything like reading a story out of some dusty old book." Sarah protested. "Whatever happens to that man in your vision happens to you. What if this Swordsman gets into a battle he can't win?"

"Somehow, Doctor, I think there are few if any opponents he couldn't handle." Galen mused, remembering the scars on the other man's body. He frowned as his ship sent him a signal that the search he had requested had finally been completed. "If that's all then, I'll be returning to my ship."

"I'd like you to remain aboard the Excalibur for a while, at least until I can rule out any external cause for that vision." Sarah glanced over a Dureena with a sigh. "I suppose it would be too much to hope for that you'd give me a blood sample to analyze?"

"There is no need for that." Galen protested, wrapping his injured hand firmly around his staff. "I've already run all the medical and diagnostic tests necessary on myself. There was no drug interaction, no external force found by my ships sensors. I can only assume that either I was being assaulted by a very high-level telepath for reasons I can not fathom…"

"Or you were possessed by the dead." Dureena finished his statement, rising with a somber look. "And I'll be willing to wager it won't be the last time either. There is something they want from you Galen. Be careful. Don't let yourself get too caught up in whatever game they are playing. The stakes may be higher than even you are willing to pay."

Galen walked up through the hatch into his ship, ignoring the Excalibur's crewmen and their curious looks in his direction. He waved his hand in front of him and an image appeared, a scan taken from an ancient text. It was the golden collar he had seen around the Swordsman's throat, or at least a reasonable facsimile. He read the translated text with interest. The collar was a reproduction, created by an Alchemist who had supposedly been given its design in an unholy vision. Whoever wore the collar was slave to the being who held its key. Needless to say, the alchemist had been sorely disappointed when his creation hadn't had the desired effect. The trinket had been added to some Sultan's treasure trove along with its legend and forgotten by history until now.

"Strange." Galen thought to himself. "He didn't seem the type to be enslaved by anyone." He waved the image away and went to his sleep chamber, stretching out on the bed with a sigh. He hadn't allowed himself much rest since that first vision and his body was aching for sleep. Soon, his breathing slowed and his eyes began to flutter as he drifted into deep sleep.

The dream picked up where the vision left off. It was as though he were watching the events unfold from the other side of a large mirror or some holographic screen. But there was a difference. He could hear the thoughts ringing in the other man's head, feel the emotions – or lack thereof- that ran through him. It was as though the Swordsman was sharing not only his story but also his soul with his guest. And now, the story was beginning to take shape. There before him again were the Lady and the Swordsman, meeting for the first time on the road to Ainsley.

"You have the advantage of me lady." The Swordsman said mockingly. "You know my name yet I do not know yours." His eyes took in her image; from the dusty boots and curious broach she wore to the thin scar that ran from the corner of her eye across her temple. Her hands, long and slender, the hands of an artist, especially drew him. From the way she had handled her horse he suspected that she was stronger than she looked.

"Say nothing!" the village woman hissed from her hiding spot behind a tree. "Names have power!"

Neither of the two people on the road paid the woman the slightest attention. "Marianne of Draco at your service. I was on my way to Ainsley to look up a certain Urius the Jinn."

"What business do you have with the Jinn?" The Swordsman asked moving slowly towards the woman. He was not surprised that she showed no fear. Humans never seemed to learn from the mistakes of others. None of the other rebels had feared him either until it was too late.

"I have something to return to him." She reached cautiously into her pocket and pulling out a small, leather pouch. She shook its contents into her gloved hand with a cold smile. "I think he might want these."

"These" turned out to be small, well-worn rune stones, each intricately carved with a mystical symbol. She turned them over in her hand, running the tip of her finger over their smooth edges. The Swordsman took another step towards her, his hand on his sword then stopped. The stones were familiar to him yet he could not place exactly where he had last seen them.

"They last belonged to another species of ancient demon – one who called himself the Wanderer. He died at the hands of humans who did not take kindly to his attempts to make them chose which of their children he would take away and make his own. Foolish pet, he should have been more careful." Marianne carefully dropped the stones back into their pouch and tucked it into her pocket. She looked at the man in front of her expectantly. "I would think he'd want them back, being of the same inclination as the Wanderer."

"If that is all you are here to do, then give me the stones and I will return them to my…to the Jinn." The Swordsman reached out one hand, careful to keep the other on his sword's hilt. "There is no need for you to travel further."

"I think not." Marianne replied, turning her back on the surprised man and mounting her horse. She kept her face blank, yet his hesitation to claim the demon as Master gave her an idea. "My orders were to make sure the Jinn got his property back personally. Besides, I think you might have worse problems than me to deal with right about now. Isn't that smoke I see coming from the village?"

The Swordsman whirled around to see billowing smoke rising from the center of the village. He gasped sharply in pain as the collar around his neck began to glow with a demonic light and his master's voice screamed in his head "RETURN!" He tossed something in front of him and promptly disappeared from the two women's view.

Marianne stared down the road, a plan formulating in her head. "Well, " she commented ruefully. "And just when I thought we were getting better acquainted. Come along, old mother. I'll give you a lift into town." She reached out and motioned for the older woman to come out of hiding.

The villager clambered up the bank and waved away the other woman's hand. "No. I must return to my farm. And you should return to wherever it is you came from, missy, if you value your life." She ran off in the opposite direction with surprising speed.

Marianne sat astride her horse for a moment, then with a resigned shrug, flicked the reins and sent it trotting towards the town.