It was the hunters who brought the report. Jard, his eyes wide and his breath coming in painful gasps, burst into the sick room where they were working and changed everything.

"They're coming, Traiyana," he blurted out. "They're coming!" Traiyana paled, and her hands shook as she straightened from her patient.

"From the Circle, then?"

"Yes, from the Circle.

"You're certain it's the gods and not..." Traiyana asked, inclining her head slightly towards Carter whose face was one big question mark.

"No! It's them. An army ready for battle!"

"What are you talking about?" Carter broke in. Traiyana shook her head in answer, briefly patted the worried man at the bedside, and pulled Carter and Jard with her out of the room.

"It's a long story," she told Carter wearily. "A hundred years ago, we were the slaves of evil and powerful gods. Somehow, our great-grandparents destroyed those gods, but they knew others would one day follow them through the Circle-"

"The Circle?" Carter asked.

"There's no time to explain everything," Traiyana said. "It is to the west. A fair distance. Our ancestors hoped it would be a safe distance from the village...they moved us here after they'd killed the gods."

"Gods can't be killed," Carter protested, "that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"These can...or could," Jard insisted. "And if we are to survive, they must be."

Carter heard the fear in his voice and the weary resignation in Traiyana's and swallowed down the rest of her questions. "You need to tell O'Neill," she said instead.

"And you're telling us this now?" O'Neill bellowed in response to the news. "An armed group of trained warriors and their 'gods' are advancing on the village bent on revenge and destruction, and you never thought maybe it might be something worth mentioning before? All those stories you've been feeding us, and you don't tell us this? Ugh! Ahr! Whatever! I don't suppose you also failed to mention anything helpful like we've got some big, honking guns to send them packing?"

Jard shook his head. "Just the hunting guns, and they won't do much against the weapons of the gods."

"And the caves," Traiyana said. "We've supplies there ready for this day. We can't hope to defeat them, but we might be able to hide from them."

"Hide!" O'Neill snorted with scorn. "You can't hide from God!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and scowled at them. Traiyana watched the calculation going on behind his eyes and made a decision.

"We do have a few other weapons-I'm not sure how effective or powerful they are, but..."

"Get them," O'Neill snapped, and Traiyana nodded to Jard who turned to obey. O'Neill grabbed his arm before he could leave. "First, get everyone that can shoot to the square and get a reconnaissance group together. We need to know what we're up against," O'Neill declared. He turned then to Traiyana, "You've got an evacuation plan in order, I assume?"

"I don't understand," she answered faintly. She did understand she'd lost control. She'd never wanted the responsibility of leadership, and she was only too willing to let it go. But, was it safe to entrust the care of her people to this man who knew so little about her world and even less about himself?

Carter, standing in the background, watched him silently. Somehow she'd known it would be this way when she'd insisted he be informed of the situation. Assuming command had been as natural to him as breathing. He turned to her, and before he could speak she answered him, "I'll get Jackson."

He nodded his thanks and with an aggrieved sigh said to Traiyana, "A plan to get everyone to the caves? Surely, if you knew this was coming, you've got something in place!"

"Oh! Yes. Of course, we do."

"Then, get the ball rolling. Let's not wait until we know if they can find us...it'll be too late by then."

Jackson helped Talyn gather up the things they'd need in the cave while Carter impatiently waited.

"Can't you come with us?" Talyn begged him, but he shook his head.

"I need to be out here. You'll be fine," he assured her.

"We need you with us," she insisted.

"Just stay with the others. Jack will get us out of this...I know he will."

"Who?"

"O'Neill! I meant O'Neill."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How can you know he will get us out of here? He's only a man, Jackson! I don't think you understand. They're gods!"

"They're not gods!" he said with a conviction he shouldn't have had. "They just think they are. We've faced worse."

"You've faced worse..." her faltered question reached into the certainty he'd been operating under and left him floundering in confusion. He'd never faced anything worse than O'Neill's jealous blow. It had sent him staggering, but what in Kylanar made him think it would be effective against 'gods'?

"Yes, we have," Carter asserted behind him. He wondered if she knew something he didn't. She marched to the door with an armload of supplies and ordered over her departing back, "Get the kids. Let's go!"

He kissed his wife and the soft, round faces of the children when they left them with the other evacuees and joined O'Neill in the village square. A scouting party had already been sent off to see just how far the enemy had advanced on their position. O'Neill had divided the rest of the villagers into squadrons. They milled about collecting weapons, ammunition, and hastily prepared field rations.

As soon as he saw Carter, O'Neill motioned her over to a bench and asked, "Whattaya make of this? Enough to take out a god or two?"

"Oh, yeah," she said with satisfaction surveying the weapons before her. "Maybe even a dragon," she added with a smile. He handed her a heavy vest. She ran an appraising finger over the label bearing her name on it before she slipped it on. He held out two weapons for her to choose from. She took the larger. Its weight felt solid in her hands, and she only took a second to familiarize herself with its finer points...like riding a bike she thought and didn't take the time to wonder what a bike was.

She also grabbed up several, rectangular boxes from the benches. "These will do, Sir," she said. "We can set charges around the village..."

He pursed his lips at her. The guns were old hat, but until she'd mentioned them he hadn't recognized the boxes as being of much use. He couldn't guess how she'd figured out they were explosives, but ok...he'd use whatever he could get. "Know how to work those things, do you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then, take who you need and set up our perimeter," he ordered her. He didn't watch to see if she would obey him but turned instead to Jackson. "The evacuation moving along all right?"

"Looks like they're about ready to move out," Jackson told him.

"Good. Make sure everyone's accounted for and get them out of here. Then hustle back. We've worked to do."

"Right," Jackson said. As he hurried out, he could hear O'Neill's raised voice behind him, "Ok. Listen up, folks, this is what we're going to do..."

It had been too much to expect the village wouldn't be discovered. The enemy bore down on them in a flanking maneuver, and O'Neill could only hope his ragtag band of farmers wouldn't break under their advance. The scouts had reported a larger number than he'd hoped for, and he second-guessed himself about the wisdom of facing them with untested men. But, hiding in a cave...not only did it not sit well with him, it was foolhardy. A few dark tunnels wouldn't stop these soldiers. They'd be hunted down like rats. They'd never be able to keep the kids quiet and moving quickly enough to stay out of their reach. No, he'd made the right call.

He'd divided the troops between himself, Carter, Jackson, and Jard. Carter and Jackson he trusted; Jard would have to do. He fingered the thingie Carter had clipped to his vest and pressed the button as she'd showed him. "We ready?" he whispered into it feeling like a fool.

"Sure," Jackson's voice came back to him through it. Nice.

"Ready," Jard responded.

"Ready here, Sir...we're up for it," Carter reported.

"Good. Stand by." He gave a thumbs-up to the men scattered around him. A few of them returned the gesture, and a few more grinned back at him nervously. His father-in-law stared at him as though wondering where he'd come from. He frowned back at the man. Something was off with him, O'Neill decided. He hadn't blinked when he'd learned his pregnant daughter was going to be on the frontlines of a battle, never even offered a half-hearted protest. That just wasn't right. O'Neill didn't trust him.

He wasn't that pleased himself to have her out there, but he wasn't dumb enough to tell her...maybe her dad wasn't quite the self-centered idiot he'd taken him for after all. Regardless, he could sort that all out later. The first wave of oncoming warriors hit Carter's charges. The unnatural quiet of the day was broken with the concussive blasts of the explosives and the cries of their victims.

"Steady, men," he said down his line. They looked back at him with white faces. A couple of them were still only children. Unshed tears gleamed in more than a few eyes. They held their weapons so tightly their knuckles were white. They weren't warriors, but they'd have to do. He threw them a cocky grin because it wouldn't do to let them know he was just as frightened as they were.

The sound of the explosives faded into the distance towards Jackson's group. In its absence, they could hear the clanking of metal and moments later catch glimpses of it through the brush. The men clutched their guns even harder, but he held up a restraining hand. The village weapons didn't look to be very effective against the enemy's armor; he didn't want to waste ammo they didn't have. "Let them come to us," he hissed down the line. The defenders waited in tightlipped silence until he 'could see the whites of their eyes'. At his signal, their weapons fire leapt out at the advancing soldiers, and the battle was on.

Like Carter, he'd procured one of the dark, heavy guns for himself. It made a significant dent in the enemy line. But, their other weapons proved to be almost as useless as he'd feared. They wouldn't be able to hold their position. He'd have to order the men to fall back or they would break ranks and run. Through the smoke of the battle, he caught a glimpse of something in the enemy line. He shook his head at the apparition, but he wasn't seeing things. Some fool was out in the middle of the battlefield in a gold skirt and a fancy hat.

O'Neill fired his weapon straight at him. The villagers cried out in alarm when his bullets were somehow deflected away. "A god!" one of them shouted, and panic spread through the men like wildfire.

"That's no god," O'Neill said. Among the weapons Jard had brought to him had been a small, deadly knife. He handed his gun to his father-in-law lying next to him and slipped the knife from its sheaf. Its smooth handle fit perfectly in his hand. "Cover me," he said as he stood up and let the knife fly. Fire from one of the enemy's weapons tore into his shoulder. He staggered at its blast, but it didn't matter. His knife had already been released; it cut through the air and struck the 'god' with a satisfying thunk and sent him reeling to the ground where he stayed. An anguished roar from the enemy soldiers rocked the battlefield and was answered by the triumphant shout of the villagers. The enemy fell back before them, and there was no question the battle here was over.

His father-in-law smiled and passed him back his weapon. "Well done," he said. "Well done." O'Neill swayed on his feet beside him and decided the man wasn't so bad after all. He was welcome to sit on his porch now and again and discuss the finer details of sowing and reaping if that was what he really wanted to do.

There was still heavy weapon fire from the other three positions, and he knew he couldn't give the men time to savor their victory. He opened his mouth to order them to reinforce the other troops, but a low, mournful horn signaled the enemy's retreat. The sounds of the battle died away with it.

Carter's voice came over the thingie, "They're retreating, Sir. Should we pursue?"

"Yeah," he answered weakly, "do that. Make sure they won't be coming back."

"Yes, Sir."

"Should we join the pursuit?" one of his men asked. He meant to give the order, he did. Instead, he looked at the men grouped around him weeping or laughing or both; shaking with shock; bleeding; crying from their wounds or their fear; or lying on the ground writhing in pain or unmoving in death, and the words that came out of his mouth weren't commands but praise. They'd been warriors after all, and he wanted them to know it. "You did good," he told them. Darkness overtook him then, and the men standing nearby caught him as he collapsed.