THE SPACES BETWEEN MY WORLDS
by Maxine Mayer 3/24/97
Theres an old ritual I perform sometimes, when the night looms long and
dark,
and time asserts itself as endless, opaque and terrifying. I examine the
worlds
Ive lived in, my memories, as many as possible, and I search very
carefully for
the spaces - the spaces between my worlds.
It is there, in those spaces between lives full of joy and adventure,
that the
growing occurs. There, in those spaces, that I achieve Immortality. The
remainder of time, those years of action, conflict and love, are my
Mortality, my
humanity. My deaths.
Duncan MacLeod is facing the spaces between his worlds right now. He is
going
through the motions of Mortal life, but a deep stillness and a vast
timelessness
have invaded his spirit. Were out of phase, of course. I am astride my
Mortality
while he has dismounted and walks Immortal through an unimaginable glass
kingdom.
Already twice since weve known one another hes tipped the glass and the
wine
of Immortality poured out over his life, drenching him in its sweet
textured liquid,
so very like blood, yet not.
His time of the Dark Quickening nearly destroyed his Mortality entirely.
His clash
with the Horsemen seeped him in time, unbalanced him utterly, called
forth his
Immortality. And its not over yet.
He walks between the spaces of his worlds, dazed and afraid, clinging to
every
shred of familiar territory, familiar friends, familiar things - in
terror of time.
An Old Immortal. He does not wish to be an Old Immortal. But he is one
now. He
now must learn how to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He never asks where Amanda goes when she leaves him. He never asks where
I go. He doesnt wish to know. This time, he will find out and cry aloud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why dont you go after her, MacLeod? I know you miss her. Yet you never
look
for her. Try to bring her back."
"Amandas life is her own. When shes ready, shell come back. She always
does."
"You chase your Mortal women - Tessa, Anne - youre the aggressor. You
bind
them to you." I was afraid Id said too much, but he didnt react. He
simply
replied.
"Its different, Methos. Amanda is one of us. Her time - her time is her
own to do
what she wants. Mortals have no time. If I want to be with a Mortal
woman, Ive
gotta seize the moment. Theres no time to lose. No time to play games.
Before I
turn around, they might be gone."
"And Amandas different?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Methos - youre being blind on purpose!"
"Maybe I am. I simply dont see the difference. Shes a woman. She loves
you.
Why dont you behave as though you love her in return. You do love her,
dont
you?"
"Of course I do! She knows that!"
"I think," I drawled slowly, as I made my way from the couch to the
refrigerator,
grabbed another beer, and returned to the couch, "I think you should look
for
Amanda. Dont you miss her?"
MacLeod stretched out his hands on the kitchen counter and leaned his
body
forward on them. "Yes, I do. As a matter of fact. If you must know."
"So -"
"So, nothing." Then, changing his tactics, he said, "I wouldnt even
begin to know
how to find her, where shes gone. Last time she left, she was headed for
Paris, I
think. But shes not there now."
"Joe could find her."
"Im sure he could."
"What - are you afraid shes with someone else, another man?"
"Maybe," he replied, with a grin. "Maybe I am."
"Shed come back with you in a minute, you know that."
"Maybe she would - and maybe she wouldnt thank me for interrupting
whatever
love affair shes pursuing. Amandas her own person, Methos. I cant
simply drop
in on her. Shes Immortal."
"For goodness sake, MacLeod, what on earth does that mean - shes
Immortal?
That shes unavailable? That she wouldnt appreciate a wake-up call from
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?"
"Whats your game, Methos? Why are you telling me this, saying these
things?"
I was surprised itd taken him this long before he asked me that. "No
game,
MacLeod. I miss Amanda. We have fun together, when shes with us. Alone
with
you, its boring."
"Nobodys chained you to a radiator here, Methos - you dont need to stay
if
youre bored. Why dont you find Amanda yourself, if you miss her so
much?"
This was not a serious suggestion on MacLeods part, I knew. He was
rarely
jealous of anyone, but Amanda usually managed to flick that switch in
him,
whenever she wished to do so. "I dont go looking for her because shes
not in
love with me. Shes in love with you."
"Thats a bit strong, Methos. She loves me. I love her. Weve known each
other a
long time. You can pretty much get used to anybody, after so many years.
But -
in love? I dont think so."
"If you dont believe me, ask anybody - Joe, Richie, the cop on the beat
-"
Mac pushed away from the kitchen counter. "Okay. Ill do it. You twisted
my arm.
Im gonna go to Joes and ask him to tell me where she is. Im gonna
follow her
to wherever that is, grab her by the hair, and drag her back here! You
satisfied,
Methos!"
I grinned, took a sip of my beer, and said, "Perfectly."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I knew where Amanda was, else I wouldnt have goaded MacLeod into finding
her. He would not be interfering with any love affair, when he arrived
there.
Amanda was on one of the Greek Islands, a tiny one. She had a small
cottage
there. She was laying on a beach, soaking up sun. She was studying
several
disciplines: the ancient game called "Go;" the language called Hindi; a
phenomenal martial art derivative Id invented and entitled "Subterfuge;"
the
poetry of Blake; and the history of Scotland. She was walking slowly and
very
carefully in a fragile glass kingdom, examining the spaces between her
worlds.
And a small part of her, no larger than the diamond stud in her nose, was
missing Mortality, missing Duncan MacLeod. It was time to take his hand
and
walk more quickly in the glass kingdom, bond with him there, achieving
Immortality once more. Not the first time, for Amanda. But a real first,
for
MacLeod.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We three - Joe Dawson, who is our Mortal Watcher, MacLeod, and I - left
together the next evening, on a long flight to Greece, with three changes
of
plane. Joe was tickled to be along. He told me that, the last time hed
taken a
vacation was when he was invalided out of the service. Duncan was
beginning
to get into the mood of the trip. Hed bought some colorful shirts and
shorts for
the warmer climate, and a new pair of sandals. I was expecting to find
everything
I needed at Amandas, where Id left my hot-climate clothes last time Id
borrowed her cottage for a short time, to check out my own not
inconsiderable
spaces. Not with Alexa. We two had traveled first class all the way.
We were tired by the time we changed planes in London. But when we landed
in
Greece, we perked up. You cant beat the sun out there, you know. Its
exhilarating, energizing and enervating, all at the same time. Makes you
want to
eat and drink and sleep and fuck and swim and laze about on the beach.
Makes
you want to sing and dance all night, like a fool. Like a Mortal.
I watched Dawson bloom in the sunshine, as he tanned and the white in his
hair
and beard was bleached even whiter. I watched MacLeods slow grin simply
take
him over, in minutes, after we landed. For almost all the rest of the
trip, he wore
that grin. They tell me I grinned a bit too. Dont I know it!
When she saw the three of us coming up the beach from the landing dock,
dragging our sandal-shod feet through the sand, Amanda jumped out of her
chair with a laugh and ran to us. She squealed, "MacLeod!" and hugged him
and
twirled him around. She kissed Joes cheek, hugging him too. Me, she just
looked at, and shook her head. "Methos, you devil! Howd you know I was
ready? I was fine till this morning!"
"I knew. Isnt that enough?"
"You betcha!" She kissed me too, but it was more formal, as befits our
relationship, which has changed so much since we decided it should. "You
all
right, Methos? Sleeping?"
"Mostly. I hang onto MacLeod." I shrugged. "Seems to work."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. He can bore you to death. Greatest sleeping
potion since morphine!"
"Hey, hey, you two! Enough whispering. Arent you going to show us your
house,
Amanda?" MacLeod asked. "I could use a drink."
We walked up to the house slowly, for Joes sake. Amandas liquor cabinet
was
enviable, as always. We ate, drank, and talked half the night, and
depleted her
liquor supply as best we could.
Duncan couldnt get enough of Amanda. His eyes were never off her, and he
took every opportunity to touch her. For a while there, I thought wed
wasted the
trip, that hed squeeze past the glass kingdom yet again, and walk
straight back
into Mortality, through the doorway of Pleasure, dragging Amanda after
him. The
way I was feeling about her myself, I wouldnt blame him. The woman
looked
good!
But Amanda was moody. Happy, but moody. Id taken her by surprise, and
she
sensed I had plans for us. I didnt know why Id wangled an invite for
Dawson,
except for the very fact of who he was: MacLeods Watcher. It seemed
appropriate that he should be there, when the action went down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the morning, while Mac and Joe prepared breakfast and drank fruit
juice, I
took Amanda for a walk on the beach. She was tense, wary, and excited.
"What evil scheme are you concocting now, Methos? Playing games with Mac
is
fools work, you know."
"No games, Amanda. Time to take him up, to the next level, I replied
evenly."
"No. Not yet. Hes too young!"
"Youve been saying that for years, Amanda. Hes no Green Boy any
longer."
"Green Boy or not, hes too young, Methos! Hes enjoying himself. Hes
still -
working things out. Figuring things out. Treading the Mortal road. You
cant just
grab him and force him to leap," she replied earnestly. "Come on, Methos,
give
him another few decades, at least." She was wheedling. Almost, she could
wheedle even me out of my plans, so effectively did she do wheedle, our
Amanda. But not this time.
"Too late, my love, the wheels are turning, the others are on their way,
even as
we speak."
"No! Methos, no!" Then, a huge breath, and a sigh. "Who? Whod you ask to
come?"
"Let it be a surprise, even for you, love."
"Methos! You know I hate surprises! They frighten me!"
"This one will turn your head round, like in The Exorcist. As you once
told me,
have a little faith! Itll work out perfectly. I promise you."
Amanda walked on ahead of me for a bit, scuffing her bare toes in the
sand, her
head down, her neck a delicious target, sweet and slender in the morning
sun,
her hands behind her back, fingers twined together, utterly without fear
of me.
That was a heady sight, I admit. It frightens me to know how very much I
care for
Amanda, and how very happy it makes me to know she doesnt fear me.
Finally, she turned and asked, "Why did you bring Joe? He cant be
allowed to
see the glass kingdom, to walk in the glass city, towards Immortality.
Hes
Mortal. Itd most likely kill him - the Light."
"Im not so sure. Joes MacLeods Watcher. He has the right to observe.
What
he makes of it all is up to him. Frankly, I think itll go right over his
head. Theyre
blind to it - same as they dont sense us coming."
"Hmm, that could be true. Nothing in the Chronicles about it?"
"None of them. Nothing Ive read in all the years Ive been a Watcher -
before,
and now. Stands to reason, some of the Watchers must have witnessed the
Walk. None speak of it. Either they cant see it, or their memories get
wiped,
somehow."
"Methos - its not too late. Lets go home. To Duncans flat. Forget
this. For now.
Please, Methos."
I grasped her shoulders firmly. "Are you sure, Amanda? Sure thats what
you
want - to throw this chance away? His last chance for God only knows how
long
- before hes ready again? You sure of that?" I do serious well.
Slightly over the
top, I grant you, but effective.
She looked into my eyes, then away. Then she murmured, "Youre right, I
suppose. But hes gonna hate it, hate you for it. Youll be giving him up
for God
only knows how long. Are you ready for that?"
"No. Im not. But its time." I shrugged, took my hands off her
shoulders. "Who
ever said I was meant for happiness, anyway? Did you read it in a book
somewhere?"
"This is nothing to joke about, Methos. Youre worth something, too. Your
happiness is worth something."
"Not anymore. I wouldnt give two cents for my happiness now."
We were both silent for a few moments. Then Amanda put her arms around
me,
offering a comfort that wasnt mine to take, of course, so I didnt take
it. But God,
was I tempted!
"Listen, child," I told her, "just for tonight, try to be less physical.
Distance
yourself from him, just a little. Lets take a stab at making this work."
"Youre a pain in the ass, Methos Valerius, you know that?"
I stared at her. "No ones called me that for years. Im surprised you
remember."
"Darius always did."
"Darius is gone."
"Fuck you!"
"Hes gone, Amanda. If he werent, we could let MacLeod play his Mortal
games
for another century or two. But we lost Darius. Theres nothing I can do
to bring
him back. So -"
"Okay." She put her hands on my chest and lightly pushed me away. I
stumbled
backwards a few steps in the sand. "Okay."
She went all determined and serious on me, possibly the sexiest thing
Amanda
does. I paid careful attention to what she said and did next. She lies
very well,
and has no conscience. I didnt want her to fool me, not now, not this
time.
Reading my thoughts, Amanda said, "I promise I wont interfere."
I shook my head. "Youve got to do more than that, my girl."
"I promise Ill go along."
"More than that."
"Damn you, Methos - I promise Ill walk the glass city, through the whole
goddam
glass kingdom, with Duncan MacLeod of the damn Clan MacLeod, and take him
to the next level! Is that good enough for you!"
"Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you, Amanda."
"Youre welcome, Methos Valerius, old friend."
"Still, old friend, even now?"
"Always." It wasnt her biggest grin. Fact is, it was sickly. But she
grinned. Then
she giggled. "Ah, hell! Maybe itll be fun!"
"And maybe bears dont piss in the forest! Fun it wont be."
"Depends whos coming. Old ones?"
"Two. And a young one."
"Can I guess?"
"Sweetie, youll never guess!"
She lifted an eyebrow, grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the water.
"Then tell me! Or I swear Ill throw you in!"
"I cant tell you - you know that!"
"Youre going in, Methos! Youre gonna drown! You know how you hate the
water!" She continued to drag me toward the sea, and I hadnt the heart
to stop
her. Just thinking of what was ahead for her, for all of us, made me
weak.
"Youre going in, old buddy! Last chance! Tell me whos coming, or youre
sopping wet, your lungs filling with water! Ill hold your head under - I
swear it!"
Shed already brought us both up to our waists into the sea. "Meth-os -
tell!"
I grabbed her and dunked us both, holding her under and holding my
breath.
Finally, I let us up, and she came up sputtering and fighting. But she
knew I
wouldnt tell. So she floated on the water, squinting into the sun. This
time I
didnt try to resist. I kissed her lightly on her mouth. She turned over
lazily and
put her arms around me, treading water. "Methos, Duncan will see. You
dont
want him to see, do you?" she asked wickedly.
"Frankly, my dear, I dont give a damn," I replied, kissing her again.
"Oh, but you do. You do give a damn! And so do I."
She pushed off and away and swam back to the shore. I watched her walk up
the beach, away from me, as shed done over and over again, for a
millenium. I
rubbed my nose, shook the water from my hair, shrugged.
"If its worth having, its worth waiting for," I muttered. "But - ten
centuries? Isnt
that slightly absurd?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We passed the day quietly. Mac and I went down to the village and picked
up
supplies, while Amanda showed Joe all her souvenirs - the ones she kept
with
her wherever she went. Later, before supper, Joe told me he was
impressed.
"Shes got a really old edition of Marcus Aurelius Meditations,
Methos! And
whats more, shes read it! Who would have believed it!"
"Theres more to Amanda than meets the eye, Joe. Simply because she likes
a
little romance and excitement in her life, doesnt mean thats all she
needs or
knows. Dont forget, she was Rebeccas student."
"Yeah, I shouldnt be so surprised. Ive been studying you guys all my
life, and
there aint one of you who isnt more than he looks to be."
"Must be the age," I said, laughing.
"Yeah. Theres that. But its something else." Joe shook his head and
took
another sip of his Scotch.
"Whatd you mean?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. Macs pretty straightforward. Oh, hes got his
pensive
moments. Hes older than he looks, I grant you that. But hes not the
best
example of what I mean."
"No?"
"No. You Old Ones, somethings different about you guys. I dont know so
many
of you. But even just the two of you - Amanda, you - somethings not
right."
"You mean - were Immortal?" I grinned.
"I think thats exactly what I mean. Youre Immortal. Youre - timeless.
Youre not
like Mac. Maybe youre just too old. Like us. Like Mortals. When we get
old. We
dont care the same way, anymore, about anything. Cant get all worked up
and
passionate, the way young people do. You two, you talk a good game. But
you
seem to be - not in it - not out of it, but not in it, either."
"Youre one perceptive man, Joe Dawson. I gotta hand it to you."
"What?"
"Not in it. Were not in it, not the same way MacLeods in it. I dont
think theres
any other way to put it except - were old, Joe. Really really old."
He looked at me, and smiled. "You dont look it. Neither does Amanda."
"It takes a lot to jump-start us, Joe. More than you can imagine. Youve
seen it in
some of the others - the ones who go down the Evil Path. The killers. The
ones
who embrace perversion. Lots of us do that. Immortality can take the
heart out
of a man. The spaces between our worlds can become very dreary, very
dreary
indeed."
"But you and Amanda - youre okay with it?" Joes concern - you couldnt
put a
price to it.
"We stick with MacLeod. Before him, Darius. The live ones. Keeps us
alive,
keeps us going."
Joe was quiet for a few minutes. Then he said, "Thanks, Methos. Thanks
for
telling me. Its a privilege to know you. Cant buy it, cant steal it.
Gotta get it as a
gift. I want you to know, I do appreciate it, buddy."
"Its good to be able to trust somebody, Joe. A real gift." I hesitated,
and Joe
noticed.
"Theres something more, something going on. What is it? Trouble? Let me
help.
Please."
I shook my head. "Its not like that, Dawson."
"MacLeod. Hes in danger."
"No. Not like you mean."
"Somethings going on with him. Somethings happening to him. These -
terrible
times - the Dark Quickening, the Horsemen, Tessas death, Annes leaving
him,
Darius murder -"
"Something like that." But it wasnt all. He didnt mention what was
worst for
MacLeod. Killing the Old Ones, the old Immortals. Thats what had made
MacLeod an old Immortal before his time. Thats what was wrong, what
needed
fixing. But I couldnt, mustnt explain that to Joe.
Dawson looked at me, imploring me with his eyes to tell him everything.
"I cant
explain, Joe. But youll be here. I dont know how much youll see, or
understand,
or remember. But youll be here with MacLeod. Whatever you can do to
help,
youll be permitted to do."
"Permitted?" He thought for a minute. "Its some kind of ceremony, an
initiation,
isnt it?"
"Joe, thats enough." I stood, put my drink down, and walked to the door.
"MacLeods an old Immortal now, Joe -"
Dawson finished my sentence. " - And hes gotta accept that."
I turned, my eyes wide. "Thats right."
"Okay, old friend. I got it. Ill help. Much as I can." I didnt answer
him. "Whatever
the price," he added. I nodded. Hed gotten it, all right. Only too
right. For the
first time since Id set things in motion, I really began to worry. If we
Immortals
paid a price, that was our business. But Joe wasnt part of this. It
wasnt his fight.
Hes Mortal. The price he pays could be his life. I didnt like thinking
about that.
But I couldnt push the thought away.
Then I heard the helicopter land, and I knew it was too late to stop what
Id
started. And much too late to send Joe Dawson home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quentin of York. Lamartin of Bordeaux. Those names mean anything to you?
Theyre not their real names, of course, though they used them for
hundreds of
years. They arent even the names they use today. Long ago, they were
called
by different names. The records some of us Immortals keep among ourselves
are a little vague about the old days. But on one thing theyre clear. On
one
thing, the records all agree. Methos Valerius is most certainly not the
oldest
living Immortal. Quentin of York is, and Lamartin of Bordeaux follows
close
behind. Six thousand years - give or take - a piece. Sixty centuries
each. Thats
a long time. Im a Green Boy to Quentin. Lamartin persists in calling me
mi
figlio, the equivalent of sonny, you might say. Honestly, I wasnt
sure theyd
come when I asked. But Id underestimated the rumors about MacLeod. I
must
give over doing that - underestimating anything about Duncan MacLeod.
Will I
never learn?
Youll want to know what they look like, Quentin and Lamartin. They look
young.
Fit. They both made First Death very young. When they were still Mortal,
people
didnt live to a ripe old age. A man of forty was an Elder. Quentin looks
like an
adolescent, a beautiful blonde youth of seventeen. He appears to be
younger
than Richie. Lamartin is bigger, beefier - a real Latino type. Looks
about twenty-
five. It takes a real effort not to let their looks deceive me. Until I
feel their
ancient "buzz."
Before today, I hadnt seen them for more than fifty years. Theyd come
out of
retirement to fight in the Second World War. At the time, I found their
enthusiasm incredible. Now, Im not so sure they werent right to take
sides. Be
that as it may, only God knows how many times they each died in that
conflict, or
to what lengths they went in order to continue fighting - their
Immortality
undetected - to the bitter end. I do know they watched each others backs
to
keep their secret from Mortals. It was an episode in their Chronicles
they
permitted me to write. They have no real Watchers.
If youre surprised to have found out that Im just a guy, then those
two would
floor you. Even Amanda couldnt quite get her mind around their
modernity.
Theyre like no other Immortals Ive ever known. Absolutely without any
sign of
age. Absolutely fearless, as if they were on drugs. Always high. Always
up.
When I spoke of their retirement, I realized it might put some people in
mind
either of an old age home or a monastery. I merely meant, they were as
far out
of the Game as they could place themselves. They lived for Pleasure, and
I do
mean with a capital P. Rich as Croesus, they were modern to a fault. In
their
minds, they lived in the twenty-fourth century, and thats a minimal
estimate.
Youve got to appreciate the cunning, the cleverness of those two, to
survive so
long. But they didnt spend all their time surviving. They invented
things - no, not
themselves, not simply themselves. Real inventions. Real technology. Some
they sold. Some they gave away. I suspect, some they kept for themselves.
They
once told me that they crammed their Mortality with so much activity that
Immortality seemed like a dream to them. A nightmare they avoided at all
cost.
They walked in the spaces between their worlds as infrequently as
possible.
They walked the glass kingdom only when they must.
From this youll gather, itd take a lot more than my fancy footwork to
convince
them they must. Yet they agreed to come, quite gaily, when Id gotten in
touch.
"Absolutely, old sod," Quentin sang into the speaker phone. "Just tell me
your
coordinates, Val, Ive got pen and paper in hand," Lamartin seconded. I
gulped
and responded. But I couldnt have been more astounded had they each
grown
two heads!
Goes to show! Lifes a wonder, when even I can be surprised!
"Inviting anybody else, Methos?" Quentin had asked. When I told him wed
be
staying with Amanda, he seemed quite pleased. When I told him who else
was
coming, I could hear the frown in his voice. Nonetheless, despite their
misgivings
about the other Immortal Id invited, they accepted with pleasure.
"Wouldnt miss
it, my boy!" Quentin said. "Absolutely marvelous fun, Im sure," Lamartin
agreed,
his turn of phrase clashing with his slight European accent.
And now they were here, getting out of a helicopter, being greeted by
Amanda
and MacLeod. I hung back. Stayed in the house with Joe.
"Whats up, Methos?" he wondered aloud. "Whos that in the copter?"
"Just old friends. Ill introduce you," I muttered.
"Immortals?"
"Yes."
"If I didnt know you better, Id say you look like youre afraid of
them," Joe said,
joking.
"I am afraid of them."
He struggled out of his chair and started for a window. "No! Come on.
Youre
pulling my leg! Look at them! Couldnt be older than Richie! Whats there
to be
afraid of?"
"Theyre older than Richie, Joe. Trust me. Theyre really really old
guys." I
couldnt bring myself to shatter all Dawsons illusions, so I didnt tell
him theyre
older than me. A mans gotta keep some secrets.
Joe bit his lip. "They know Im here?"
"By now, they probably did their homework. Im pretty sure they know."
"That gonna be a problem, Methos? Ill leave, if you want me to."
"Absolutely not."
"Okay, then. Id like to meet them."
"You will. Oh, you will." He did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amanda assigned two tiny upstairs guestrooms to Quentin and Lamartin. The
old Immortals sauntered down to dinner dressed to the nines in white
linen
summer suits. They managed to look both elegant and out of fashion at the
same time. We were all wearing shorts, shirts and sandals. Quentin and
Lamartin carried their swords in plain sight, casually laying them on an
empty
chair near the sideboard before joining the four of us at the large round
dinner
table.
MacLeod stared at them. While his own katana was within easy reach on the
sideboard, I think he found the fact that they were carrying theirs
openly
somehow rude. Id put my sword out of sight under the table earlier. I
wasnt sure
where Amanda kept hers. Still, Mac seemed put out that the old men hadnt
left
their weapons in their rooms.
"Dont look so surprised, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Quentin
said.
"This idyllic time may be a vacation for Mr. Dawson, but death never
takes a
holiday. And neither do Immortals."
"Im sorry you feel that way," Mac replied evenly, with a great deal of
dignity.
"For me, any friend of Methos is a friend of mine."
"Until proved otherwise," I chimed in.
"Well said, MacLeod," Quentin admitted. "But we mustnt lie to ourselves,
or to
each other. Ritual Combat is what we do, the spine of who we are. Wed be
foolish if we werent prepared."
I felt nervous, as though Id brought a friend to meet my parents. Felt
responsible
for Duncan, somehow. Anxious for him to make a good impression. It was
foolishness, I grant you, but thats how I felt. I tried to change the
subject, but
ended up putting my foot in it. "Our last guest should be arriving in the
morning.
Then our party will be complete."
"Just who else is coming, Methos?" MacLeod asked.
"Its a surprise," Amanda said quickly, saving my neck. "Dont you just
love
surprises?" She turned to Lamartin, who hadnt said a word so far, but
was
studying Amandas charms with undisguised admiration. "Lamartin, how
about
you? Do you like surprises?"
"Im sure I would, but nothing surprises me anymore, Im afraid, mi
figlia." Oily
continental charm. Pity he was so attractive.
"Just how long have you been around, Mr. Lamartin," Dawson asked. "Most
of
the Immortals Ive met still find life full of surprises. Even Methos
here."
I always anticipate that Quentin and Lamartin will be contemptuous of
Mortals.
Theyve distanced themselves so thoroughly, that I forget what theyre
like when
I dont see them for a long time.
Lamartin replied, "Youre right. One thing persists in surprising me.
Mortals.
What they do, how they think, how they love - so passionate, so urgent. I
do not
mean to insult you in any way, Mr. Dawson, but with time, youll be the
same as
we are. Disengaged. Disconnected."
Joe laughed. "I dont think Ive got that kind of time."
"Perhaps not," Quentin said seriously. "Nor is it in your nature to be
disengaged.
I think you are a passionate man, Joe Dawson."
"No doubt about that! Maybe too much so, for my own good."
"That could never be. Never." Quentin spoke decidedly, with authority
that ill
befitted his youthful looks. But his voice was low and strong. Nobody
seemed
put out with his pronouncement.
MacLeod asked, "Whats your line of work, Mr. Quentin? And you, Mr.
Lamartin?"
"Please call us Quentin and Lamartin, Mr. MacLeod."
Duncan nodded. "Same here - Duncans fine."
"Were inventors. Thats our work, our study, and our business as well.
Right
now, its computers. Were working on various possibilities for viewing
ones
partner in a conversation on the internet."
"Dont forget spacecraft, Quentin. Its really hush hush, for now. But
down the
road - if were granted the time - well have something valuable to
offer, I
believe," Lamartin added.
"Methos tells me youre older than you look," Joe said, smiling. "So you
must be
survivors extraordinaire. But you both seem pretty uncertain how much
time
youll have, pretty sure deaths just around the corner. How come?"
"Dawson -" I interrupted.
"No, let me reply," Quentin stopped me with a gesture. He picked up his
glass of
wine. "Look at this wine, Mr. Dawson."
"Joe. Call me Joe, please."
"Very well. Joe. Look at this wine. Such a lovely color, delicate flavor
- a
delicious wine, which will only improve with age. What could go wrong
with it?
Yet we know careless storage could ruin the rest of the case. And a
moments
bad weather could ruin next years vines. The wine grower knows. Every
farmer
lives in dread of bad weather, which is death to his crop. We Old Ones
are the
same. Were lovely, we improve with age, but were very delicate, very
vulnerable. One stroke of the sword can destroy us forever. How could we
not be
aware of that fact of our existence? Immortal or no, death is always
present to
us. Were less likely to forget it or avoid thinking about it than you
Mortals, I
believe."
"When you put it that way, I can see where youre coming from. Just how
old are
you two?" Joe asked curiously.
"Methos - shall I?" Quentin asked.
"Round figures will do," I replied.
"Very well. Fifty centuries, more or less. Each."
"Wow! Id no idea there were others like him," Joe said, waving in my
direction. "I
kinda thought he was the only really old guy still around."
I glanced at MacLeod. He was studying his wine glass, determined to avoid
my
eyes.
"Boys, boys," Amanda finally broke the silence. "Cant we talk about
something
less gloomy than old age and death? MacLeods an antique dealer. That
ought
to interest you, Lamartin. Methos told me you love beautiful things."
"I am interested in beautiful things, antiquities. But my passion is
people. In our
partnership, I am the salesman; Quentin the scientist. I travel widely.
Weve
collected a great many objets dart over the centuries, fine things, but
mainly our
own personal belongings, which turn into antiquities as time passes."
"Ive noticed that myself," MacLeod said, for the first time that evening
lightening
up a bit. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it would be all right. He
never took to
Immortals easily. Mortals, yes. Hes a sucker for Mortals. But hes got a
suspicion of Immortals that wont let go. I prayed my two old friends
would sense
that and try to put MacLeod at his ease. Otherwise, God alone could say
in what
terrible ways my plan would be ruined.
We talked a bit longer, over coffee. I had a couple of beers, and so did
Joe.
MacLeod stuck with the wine. Finally, he said he was tired, and went up
to bed.
Dawson soon followed. The four of us - Amanda, Quentin, Lamartin and I -
were
finally alone.
"Methos, this isnt going to work! You can see that, cant you?" Amanda
whispered urgently.
"It does seem - premature - Val," Quentin added, and Lamartin nodded.
"Youre wrong. Its time. I was never more certain of anything in my
life."
"However do you retain such enthusiasm, such passion, Val?" Quentin
asked,
his unlined face a study in disbelief. "If I didnt know better, Id
think you were a
Green Boy still."
"Not retain," I muttered, for the hundredth time in a hundred days, or
so it
seemed to me. "Not retain, redeem!" I was angry.
"Whats that mean, Methos?" Quentin asked. "Quibbling over a word?"
"Words are who we are. They define us. The Word was made Flesh, and
dwelt
among us. In the beginning was the Word. When I say Im redeemed, Im
not
quibbling, Im damn near praying!" I sighed. Then I shrugged. "Youll
see. In the
blink of an eye, youll see MacLeod for what and who he is - and youll
know Im
right. That its time."
Lamartin leaned towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He spoke
quietly, gently. "Methos, its all very well to admire the man, even to
love him, but
that wont change the fact that hes only four hundred years old. Hes a
Green
Boy. Ask anyone. Hes fairly quivering with Mortality, still. Hes
virtually
indistinguishable from Dawson, spiritually. Hes a child, Val. Its not
time. Pray
believe me, not yet."
"Im not deluded. Youve made my point for me. Yes, I agree. Hes as
Mortal as
Joe. Hes also as Immortal as Quentin or you. Or me. Its time." The
angry edge
to my voice simply emphasized the conviction I felt. These men had read
the
private Chronicles Id prepared over the past couple years. But reading
about
Dark Quickenings and the Horsemen and the death of MacLeods friends was
one thing. Living through it was another. Experiencing the difference in
MacLeod
from when I first met him until today was something I couldnt pass along
the
line.
At last I spoke into the vast silence the others maintained. "Okay, guys,
just
humor me. Lets simply give it a whirl. Our last guest will arrive in the
morning.
Tomorrow night well start. Amanda will start," I amended. "We can stop
at any
point along the way, if you all agree thats the right way to go. Or we
can
continue on into the glass kingdom. All Im asking is that you trust me.
Ive been
around a long time. Granted, I may be wrong. Yes, I may be deluded by
friendship. Yes, Duncan MacLeod is a very charming man. So, yes, I may be
deluded by love. But Im not. I know it. And youll all know it, in a few
days."
Amanda, Quentin and Lamartin exchanged glances. I hoped theyd decide in
my
favor. After all, they were here, werent they? But I hadnt realized I
had so little
faith in their judgment. Id grown accustomed to MacLeod. To Dawson. To
their
unerring morality, their incredible instincts. Id forgotten what life
was like when
you hung around with dispassionate Old Ones. I seemed to have lost the
knack
of distancing myself from my lives, and that realization disconcerted me.
But I
kept my mouth shut until they nodded their agreement to try. Then I said
goodnight, grabbed my sword, and went up to bed. I didnt know Id been
holding
my breath until I closed the door to my room and let it out.
"Whered you find those two, Methos? In a home for the emotionally
challenged?" Duncan asked. "Talk about the dead leading the utterly
deceased!"
he said, mocking me.
I switched on the light. He was sitting in a rocking chair near the
window, his
katana across his knees, a can of beer in one hand, a glass of wine in
the other.
The house was so full of "buzz," I hadnt noticed how near he was.
"Close your mouth old friend - youll catch flies," he told me. Then he
laughed
out loud. "Come on, Methos, dont look so surprised. Here - have a beer."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I tried to regain my composure. "You shouldnt be here, MacLeod."
"Really? Since when do you tell me where to go and who to see?"
"Thats not what I meant. You should be with Amanda. Or Joe."
"Why? Why one friend rather than another?" When I didnt reply, Mac stood
up,
and put down his wineglass. His katana held in a loose grip in his left
hand, he
walked to the window, moved the curtain aside, and looked out. Then he
looked
at me again. "You gonna tell me whats going on, Methos, why were here?"
"Just a holiday, thats all, MacLeod. Friends greeting friends." I smiled
up at him
from the easy chair Id flopped into. "Why so suspicious?"
"Those two men are your friends? Is that what youre trying to tell me?
So why
are you so scared of them that even Joe noticed? Whys Amanda scared?
Whats going on, Methos? Whyd you bring me here?"
"Its not fear. Its respect. Cant you tell the difference?"
"No. I cannot! It smells like fear to me!" Then, before I could move,
hed crossed
the small bedroom, swiveled his katana in a wide arc, and sliced
downwards
towards my throat, holding the edge of his blade an inch from my Adams
apple.
His voice was low and raspy, his face a study in hot anger. "Respect?
Tell me,
Methos. Tell me now. Why are we here? Whos coming tomorrow? Whatre you
planning? Now, or youre dead!"
I stretched my hands out, as if to push his body away. Hunching my
shoulders,
pulling my head as far away from the blade at my throat as I could, I
answered
the easiest question first. "Connors coming. Ive asked Connor." If I
thought that
would be enough to save me, I was wrong.
"Why?"
"Its a long story, MacLeod -"
"Then youre lucky Im Immortal, arent you? Ive got lots of time to
hear it. Give
over, Methos. I want to know."
"Its for older Immortals - a kind of - spiritual quest - a way to center
oneself. We
call it, a walk in the glass kingdom. Its not a bad thing. Really."
He kept his blade at my throat. "Whos it for, this time? You? Amanda? Or
Connor? Is that why youve asked Joe and me - for moral support for one
of you
in this - quest?"
"MacLeod, take your blade away from my neck, and Ill tell you."
"No. Youll tell me now, Methos."
"Its not for Amanda, or Connor, or me. Its for you, MacLeod."
"But you said, older Immortals." He sounded bewildered. "Im not in
that
ballpark. Not even in the league."
"I think you are."
"Youre insane."
I shook my head. "No, Im not. But get in line. The others agree with
you."
MacLeod whisked his katana away from my throat and went to the rocker. He
sat
down again and lay his sword across his knees. He picked up his glass and
took
another sip of wine.
I adjusted myself in the easy chair, put one knee up, and started to
search
around for my beer. Then I noticed my hands were shaking, so I just sat
quietly,
waiting for his next question, and his next. What a mess!
"And Connor? Whyd you invite him? I didnt know youd even met him."
"For you."
"As moral support?"
"As a kind of - Second - like in a medieval duel."
"I thought you said you believe Chivalry is dead. Trendy in my youth,
you called
it."
"This is from long before the Age of Chivalry. I do eclectic pretty
well."
MacLeod put his head in his hands. "Im not an old Immortal, Methos. Not
even
close. Youre way off, here." Then he lifted his eyes to look at me.
"Besides, how
could you bring those two - strangers - to something so - personal? If we
met
them at Joes, we wouldnt give them the time of day!"
"The Ritual calls for four - a Companion on the Walk, Amanda - a Sponsor
-
thats me - and a Judge, Quentin -" I broke off.
"And - and. Whats the fourth for? Whys Lamartin here?"
"An Opponent, a Challenger. Call it what you will!" I saw his incredulous
look.
"Look, MacLeod, theres a lot of history here. This isnt something I
thought up
on my own. This was around long before I became Immortal. Its been a
source
of strength and peace for Immortals for - millennia." When he didnt
reply, I
asked anxiously, "You do understand, MacLeod? This is a good thing.
Quentin
and Lamartin would never have joined us in the first place, if they
hadnt known
enough about you to think you were ready."
"Whered they get their information, Methos? From you? You been doctoring
the
Chronicles? Because theres nothing in my life so far which isnt
ordinary, for an
Immortal. Im no different from others my age, even older. Fitzcairn
never went
through this Quest, did he?"
"No. Too young."
"Right. And Id have known, wouldnt I? You, or somebody like you, would
have
called me to be his Second." Contempt dripped from his voice. "Connor?"
"Not yet. But Amandas walked the glass kingdom, MacLeod. Shes all
right. She
survived."
"So whys she pushing me away, as if shes already saying goodbye to me.
As if
I were as good as dead."
I shook my head. "Thats my doing."
"Your doing? I dont get it."
"Readiness is a fragile thing. You can slip into your time of Mortality
again, in the
blink of an eye. Particularly if you - imbibe - enough Pleasure. I asked
her to
distance herself. Shes an old friend. She agreed."
"Amanda? Amanda agreed to distance herself from me for the sake of some
game youre playing? I dont believe it!"
"I know. The Amanda you love wouldnt consider such a thing for a moment.
But
the Amanda we love - I love - is an old Immortal. She knows the ropes.
She
wasnt happy about it, but she went along."
"Thats why you asked Dawson to come to Greece with us? Because hes my
Watcher?"
"He has the right to see whatever he can see. It cant be much." I
shrugged.
"Theres no mention of the walk in any Chronicle Ive ever read."
"I see." MacLeod stood. "And this walk, is it a one time deal?"
"No. We renew when we must." I shrugged. "There can only be one first
time,
sure."
"And youre certain Im ready. No matter what the others think." MacLeod
spoke
thoughtfully.
"Im certain."
"Okay. I wont fight you on this. Ill try it. I think its crazy. But
Ill try."
"You wont fight me?" I squinted at him. "Whats the catch? What do you
want in
return?"
MacLeod looked at me, one hand on the doorknob of my room, ready to
leave.
"No catch, Methos. I dont want anything. Ive trusted you with my life
before,
several times. You always came through. By the skin of your teeth - but
you
always came through. Youre my friend. So Ill trust you again."
I could hardly speak. I croaked out, "Thanks, MacLeod."
"Besides, somebodys gotta watch your back with those two ghouls around,"
he
said with a smile. "You may not have noticed, but theyre after your
head." Then
he left.
I muttered to his back, "Yeah, I noticed. Big surprise. What else is
new?"
But I was very happy. Not because my plan could go forward. Not because
of
that. Because MacLeod trusted me. Called me his friend. Like I was worthy
of
trust. Like I was good, the way Joe was good. Nobodyd trusted me without
question for so long - no Immortal - not even Amanda. Trusted me first,
before
Id proved myself innocent. Maybe Im sentimental, but just the thought
of such
trust made me want to cry. Oh, I was well astride my Mortality, no
question.
Completely out of phase. In that moment, I was happier than I could ever
remember being.
I couldnt have been more vulnerable if I worked at it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I woke at dawn, dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. Sipping a fruit
juice, I
looked out at the beach. In the distance, up the coastline, MacLeod was
doing
morning exercises, his sword on the sand nearby. Amanda was still asleep
- Id
checked her room, opening the door quietly. Joes too. I didnt know
where
Quentin and Lamartin had gone, but they werent in the house - Id sense
their
buzzes anywhere. Probably went for a walk together. Or doing their own
exercises and meditations, at another spot on the shore.
Sure enough, when I went outside and stood on the porch, sword in one
hand,
juice in the other, they came walking slowly along the beach towards the
cottage.
This time, they were dressed in swimsuits, and they were wet.
"Been for a swim, Methos," Quentin called out to me. "Waters cold, but
bracing.
You should go in."
"I will. Later. When its hot." Something felt wrong inside me. I felt
almost sick. It
couldnt be physical, of course. I couldnt put my finger on it. But I
was sweating
strangely, a cold sweat, unlike anything Id ever experienced before. I
decided
that Id talk to Joe, when he came down for breakfast. "Connor should be
here
soon," I told the other Immortals. "Hes due in at noon."
"Very well, Methos. Well begin tonight, after dinner." Quentin squinted
at me.
"Are you well?"
"Im okay. Too much to drink last night."
"Youre up early. Maybe you should lie down again," Lamartin suggested.
"No. Im okay." Suddenly, I needed to get away from them. I pushed past
them
off the porch. "Im gonna see what Macs up to. Help yourself to
breakfast."
I put my glass down on the porch railing and walked across the sand
towards the
shady place under a few trees where Duncan was working out. The sun was
already blinding, but I felt chilled. Dizzy. Despite the heat of the
early morning
sun on my skin, I felt clammy, sweaty. Strange. I tried to shake it off.
"Youre
Immortal, you idiot," I muttered to myself, trying to keep focused on
MacLeods
figure in the distance. "You cant be sick. You cant be dizzy." I
reached for Macs
buzz. Grabbed hold with my own. Then the next thing I remember, I was
lying on
a couch in Amandas living room, concerned faces everywhere I glanced.
"Methos, you all right?" Joe asked. He held a basin of water. Amanda was
washing my face with a wet cloth. Duncan stood just behind her. He looked
frightened to death. Quentin and Lamartins faces were hovering portraits
of
anxiety and puzzlement.
"What happened?" I asked.
"You - fainted. On the beach. I carried you back here," MacLeod replied.
"Youre putting me on. I dont do faint, I said. "Thats absurd."
"Absurd or not, good buddy, you fainted," Joe said with a smile. "Been
out a
good twenty minutes or more. I didnt think Immortals could get sick."
"We cant," I muttered automatically.
"Well, my boy, if its surprises you were after giving us, this was a
gift without
price!" Quentin answered. "Ive never seen anything quite like it. Not in
- fifty
centuries!"
"Val, tell me. Whats it like? Being sick?" Lamartin is a ghoul - Macs
right.
"Hey, boys, thats enough questions. You two, clear out of here. Leave us
alone
with Methos for a while. He needs air." This was Amanda.
Quentin and Lamartin left the room without a word. Immediately, I felt
better. I
could breathe better too.
MacLeod nodded to Joe and Amanda, and they left us alone.
"Whats going on, Methos?" Mac asked.
"Beats me," I croaked, with a sickly grin. "Something I ate?"
"Youre really sick. I dont understand this at all." His dark eyes were
serious.
Fear pulsed in his aura, making me dizzy again.
I tried to make a joke. "Hey, Im not alone. Thats whats important. If
I die, I die.
Better than a swift stroke to the neck! Food poisoning! Who would have
imagined it?"
"I dont think its food poisoning, Methos."
"Whatd you mean? Were vulnerable to drugs, drink, poison. We just -
revive
again."
Mac was quiet for a minute, thinking, his aura vigorous, intense. It
shook me. I
felt nauseated. Then he said, "This quest, this Walk - what did it do to
you, when
you took it?"
"Nothing. I mean, it accomplished its purpose, centered me." I shrugged.
"Whatd
you mean?"
"When was the last time you did this - for yourself?"
"Oh - what day are we - 1997? Six centuries ago. Darius was my Second. It
was
lovely."
"Seems like a long time between walks."
"Does it? Maybe so. Havent felt the need, living the quiet life Ive
been."
"Not so quiet lately, Methos."
Instantly I saw what he was getting at. "Oh no, dont even go there,
MacLeod!
Ive gone a thousand years without a walk in my time! I dont need one!"
He smiled. "Dont you? Could have fooled me!"
"No. Mac, no."
"Ill be your Second. Connor can help too. Joes with us, hes a good
man. Hes
your friend. You wont be alone." He grinned. "Not out here." He lightly
touched
my chest. "Not in there."
"No fair, MacLeod! When did you become a lawyer, using my own words
against
me!"
He grew serious again. "Somethings wrong, Methos. Youre my friend. I
cant
just watch you sicken and die like a Mortal! Im counting on you to be
around a
long time. I wont let you go without a fight."
"You were ready enough to take my head, last night," I joked.
"Methos -"
I sat up, pushing him away. "So. It was me all along." I shook my head.
"Survivor.
Planner. Idiot! Im an idiot!"
"No, youre just an old Immortal, in need of a fix. Peace. Serenity.
Centering. You
should train more. Then maybe you could go longer without."
"Dont start. Youre not my mother!"
"No. Im your friend. And Im asking you - friend to friend - will you
take this walk
with us? Without holding back - without reservation?"
"I dont know if Amanda can do it with me."
"Shell do it. Shes tougher than she looks."
"And Im weaker than I think."
MacLeod patted my shoulder. "Well have you fit and ready to slay dragons
before you know it, old friend!"
"I dont want to slay dragons! Ive avoided dragons all my life!"
"Really? You could have fooled me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Connor MacLeod. Connor MacLeod. An old soul if ever I met one. From the
moment I set eyes on him, striding across the sand looking ridiculous in
a long
tan raincoat and white sneakers, I knew Id be well. This one was a
cynic, and a
comic, and as serious as Death. A born loner. Nothing like as emotional
as
Duncan. A most delicate aura. A good man to have with you on a quest, for
certain.
"You must be the infamous Methos, the oldest Immortal," he said, gripping
my
hand strongly.
"And you must be the famous Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," I
replied,
smiling widely. "Im afraid Ive got bad news for you."
"What might that be?" he asked, returning my smile.
"Theres been a change of plans. I hope you wont be too disappointed."
He stared at me, piercing blue eyes deeply recessed under a high broad
brow.
"What sort of change?" He had a strange accent which I couldnt place.
"The subject of our little adventure."
"I thought Duncan was a little young for a walk in the glass kingdom. Who
will it
be instead?"
"Me." I bit my lip. "Seems Ive been through one too many exciting
escapades of
late. Everyone agrees, Im the one who needs anchoring."
"I was surprised you thought he did. Or that he was ready for it. Duncan
anchors
himself. Besides he doesnt need magic."
I thought back to the Dark Quickening and the Holy Spring. Everyone needs
magic sometimes. But I didnt contradict Connor. "Well, if you dont want
to turn
right round and go home, Id be grateful for your support. I can use all
the friends
I can get."
"It would be an honor, Methos. Duncans spoken of you often. He couldnt
admire you more."
"Admire me? Thats odd. Weve been through a bit together. Seemed to have
come out the other end okay. Survived."
"He told me. A little. Youre a brave soul, for a man whos survived five
thousand
years."
"Think so? Brave? Wouldnt be the word Id use myself. At any rate, come
up to
the house and meet the others. Let me warn you, weve got two really old
guys,
one middle-aged female, and a Mortal. Not counting MacLeod and me."
"Bouillabaisse. Always loved it," Connor said with a quick grin.
"Really? Always hated fish myself. Reminds me of the sea."
During lunch, Quentin and Lamartin were civility itself to Connor.
Apparently, his
reputation preceded him. Amanda flirted dreadfully, casting glances from
Connor
to Duncan, as if she were trying to compare the two Clansmen. Duncan
himself
looked like the cat whod eaten the canary. He was awfully pleased
Connord
arrived. He must have been terrified for me, poor child. I was
frightened, myself,
but tried not to advertise it. Too much truth can bring down the house of
cards
we call a life.
I thought Id have more time, that wed begin the walk that night. But
soon after
lunch Quentin and Lamartin took charge. I had no say whatsoever, from
then on.
"Very well, friends," Quentin said, "we begin now. Joe, please try not to
worry.
Amanda, stand straight. Duncan, be alert. Connor, be cautious. Lamartin,
be
strong. Methos Valerius, be yourself!"
Quentin shepherded us across the sand to the shoreline. We must have been
a
strange sight to Dawson - six Immortals carrying swords, striding
purposefully
towards the water, to perform some ancient Ritual never mentioned in the
Chronicles. He followed us slowly, his cane in one hand, a bottle of
Scotch in the
other. Duncan carried a beach chair for Joe. We Immortals would sit on
the
ground, when we sat.
I stood in the center of the circle the others made. I was frightened and
anxious,
my stomach still ached, and my skin was cold and clammy. Quentin intoned
the
simple opening words of the Ritual, which hed translated thousands of
years
ago from the original tongue:
"We are here for Methos Valerius, Immortal. We beg the Spirits to guide
him.
We beg the Spirits to help him. We beg the Spirits to grant him a
redemptive
walk in the glass kingdom."
Then he introduced our company to the Spirits, in the words of the
Ritual. Hes
really quite fine, Quentin. Hits the nail on the head every time.
"May the Spirits favor Amanda, who joins the walk with Methos.
"May the Spirits favor Lamartin of Bordeaux, who fights Methos demons.
"May the Spirits favor the MacLeods, who Second Methos journey.
"May the Spirits favor Quentin of York, who Judges the fight.
"And may the Spirits favor the Mortal, who observes and records and will
not
interfere."
Joe lifted his bottle of Scotch a few inches, to acknowledge the
admonition.
Quentin produced a small vial from his pocket and offered it to me.
"Methos -
drink!" This was the acid test. To accept an unknown concoction from a
fellow
Immortal, knowing full well it would render me unconscious, vulnerable,
and
weak.
I hesitated. Amanda took my hand. "Take it, Methos. Drink." she said
urgently.
"Courage. Courage."
I felt Duncan place his hand on my back. It burned like fire. "Im here,"
he said
quietly. "Whatever happens, youll get through this. I wont let you come
to harm.
I promise."
I looked around. Each face radiated encouragement, except Lamartins,
whose
demeanor remained serious. Dawson nodded and smiled at me, as if to say,
"What can it hurt?"
It can hurt. Very badly. Not the potion. The walk. Id lied to MacLeod.
Its never
lovely, not while youre going through it. Not afterwards.
I took a deep breath. Then I put out my hand and grabbed the vial from
Quentin.
I took out the stopper, gulped down the vile tasting liquid, and threw
the glass
into the sea.
From then on, as I know from assisting at other Immortals walks, I
appeared to
be unconscious. Those whose buzzes are strong enough, can walk with me. I
would feel their auras, and they would comfort me. Someone like Dawson -
a
Mortal - would need to be an empath or a psychic or a telepath, to
experience
anything other than one Immortal laying on the ground - to all intents
and
purposes, out cold - with his friends standing around him looking
serious.
At least, so I thought. But when I woke in the glass city, and stepped
into the
glass kingdom, the first face I saw was Joes. Quentin was controlling
every
thread of the walk expertly, guiding my searching, picking up on my
thoughts.
Judging what questions in my mind were best to explore, what questions
better
to leave be. Unerringly, Quentin knew that Joes gifts were vital to my
well-being.
Joe spoke to me quietly - of Alexa, her beauty, her goodness, and her
pain. He
told me about all the letters shed written to him while we traveled, and
how hed
been surprised by what shed said about me. How shed written of her fear
of
dying. And how Id made her forget death. How shed fallen in love with
me, in
spite of herself. He told me Alexa worried about me, that Id be crushed
when
she finally went away forever. And she told him the strangest thing of
all - that
she believed Id live forever.
Then Joe seemed to fade away, and for the first time in my walk, I
noticed my
sword in my hand, and Amanda by my side. I took courage from her
presence.
Her aura was stronger than it ever seemed to be, in life.
We walked further into the glass kingdom, it seemed to be miles. For a
time, I
saw no one but Amanda. The glass surrounded us. It was everywhere, even
underfoot. We stepped on a road made up of glass squares. The trees were
formed of twisted sculpted glass. There were glass castles and glass
flowers.
There was no color to anything. It was neither light nor dark, neither
opaque nor
transparent. It was simply - there.
But Amanda and I were not truly walking - we were searching, with our
swords at
the ready, turning and seeking, waiting for a challenge, waiting for an
opponent.
With Amanda guarding my back, I felt secure. Her wily temperament matched
my
own, and her skill with a sword is rare. I was deeply satisfied, having
Amanda
with me.
Finally, Amanda and I came to a crossroads. To the left, Lamartins dark
face
confronted me. He held his sword high above his head, in a two-handed
grip.
Instinctively, I raised my own sword.
Then, to the right, I saw two Knights approaching us on horseback, as if
from a
long way off. One was fair, one was dark. Their auras were hot, young,
vigorous.
They held their swords high. As they came closer, I could hear the steady
beat
of their horses hooves, and a wild primitive yelling. Lamartin turned
from me and
ran towards them, brandishing his sword, screaming a fierce challenge!
They reined their horses in and dismounted quickly, the fair one behind,
the dark
one in front. Lamartin raised his sword high, sent it crashing against
Duncans
sword. I was pulled from my reverie and amazement by the sound of the
clash.
"You cannot fight my battles for me, MacLeod!" I shouted.
"Nor you for me!" Duncan responded, his Scots accent thicker than Id
ever
heard it.
"Ive never tried to do that," I protested.
Amanda said, "Yes, you have, Methos. Over and over again."
Lamartin raised his sword again, clashed it down against Duncans with
all the
power of his years. "Let the Highlander struggle, he will die in the
end!"
"No! Your battle is with me, Lamartin! Its my head you want! Leave
MacLeod
be!"
"Dont do it, Methos! You cant fight Duncans battles for him! Youll
die if you
try!" Amanda said, pulling me back with all her old strength.
Connor added, "Why do you do this, Methos? This man challenged Duncan,
not
you! Its not your place to interfere!"
"Im not interfering. Lamartins after me. Let him come for me. I wont
permit him
to go through Duncan to reach me!"
"No!" Lamartin insisted, "Its the Highlander I want! His head, his young
blood,
his strength and courage!"
"Come and get it, then, Lamartin!" Duncan answered with a grin. He raised
his
sword high.
I despaired. "You mustnt! They mustnt! Amanda - stop them! Theyll kill
him!
Then where will we be? Hes too important to lose!" I collapsed on the
ground,
my sword fell from my hand and chipped a glass square. I couldnt watch
the
battle.
"Look, Methos, look!" Amanda grabbed my face with both hands. "Look at
it!
Have a little faith! Hell survive - he always does!"
"No. I wont look," I said, pushing her hands away. "Im sick of watching
him fight,
worrying, despairing, crying. Im sick of the anguish. I tell you, I
wont watch!"
"If you wont look," Quentin of York finally interrupted my tirade,
"youll never
see, never learn. You cant protect him from everything. And you cant
protect
yourself."
Duncan and Lamartins battle raged on. The air was rife with the
deafening clang
of their swords. Connor stood quietly, holding the horses reins, without
giving a
sign that he was interested in the outcome of the battle.
I shouted at Connor. "How can you do it? How can you bear it? I know you
love
him! How can you watch?"
"Its what we do, Methos. Its the price we pay. We lose beloved Mortals.
We
lose beloved Immortals. We lose time itself, for as long as we live,"
Connor
replied.
Quentin continued, "If you wish to have a heart, to come as close to
Mortality as
that - then you must take the pain and the fear as well, Methos."
"I cannot. Its too much! I cannot." I sank to my knees and sobbed.
"Then give up love, damn you, for once and for all!" Amanda cried. "Give
it up
now! Join the Old Ones and die!"
I lifted my head. I watched for some time, as Duncan and Lamartin fought
bitterly, to the death, the way we do. I tried to be indifferent. I tried
not to care. I
couldnt manage either. So I closed my eyes.
Then, for an instant, Joes face swam in my mind. I could barely hear his
words,
something about, "This is what it takes, what its like, to be Mortal."
Then,
another phrase, "Its worth it." Definitive. Final. I had only to agree,
and Id be
whole again.
But I couldnt agree! Not while the ones I loved were in danger. It
wasnt worth it!
Nothing was worth it! Id rather be like Quentin or Lamartin - not caring
for
anybody. Anything, to stop the pain!
The moment I thought that, Quentin put up his hand and the battle between
Lamartin and Duncan ceased. They each lowered their swords and stepped
away from each other.
"How dare you, Methos Valerius? How dare you imply for an instant that
Lamartin and I care for nothing, for no one! How dare you?" Quentins
anger was
fierce. I didnt know he had so much anger left.
"You dont, do you?" I shrugged. "Better I should be like you, wear white
linen
suits, and walk along the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each
to
each. I do not think that they will sing to me."
"We do care. For each other. For you. For many others, whose names and
faces
you do not know. Were old. Thats true. But were not dead, Val,"
Lamartin
added, his voice a deep baritone bouncing off the glass. "You mustnt
think we
are. It gives you a whole wrong picture of what Immortals are about. Why
we
exist at all."
"Why do we exist?" I asked bitterly. "For this?" I gestured around me.
"To fight,
to kill, to watch those we love die? Over and over again. Forever."
"No, Methos," Duncan said quietly, "we exist so that we can love, so that
we can
do, so that we can care, when those we love die. So that we can remember
them. Carry them in our hearts, for as long as we survive. You know that.
Weve
both learned that. Why do you doubt now?"
Good question. Why did I doubt now, rather than before, or later? I
looked
around, slowly taking in the place where I was - a glass kingdom, a glass
city,
whose only life was in the people who stood near me. There were no books
in
this glass kingdom. No beer. No cars or planes or railway trains or
subways.
Only glass and people. Did I truly prefer the glass? Did I really want to
be left
alone in a glass city, walking a glass kingdom, with no people in it?
Did I truly need to make a choice? Hadnt I already made my choice?
I didnt like living with fear. But living without love had to be worse.
Even a fool
like me knew that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke I was laying on my back on the beach. Amanda had my head
nestled in her lap. It was dark except for a kerosene lamp set in the
sand nearby.
I sat up quickly, ran my fingers through my hair, touched my neck. I was
exhausted but no longer dizzy, nauseated, or sweating. Then I noticed how
late
it was and felt my face redden. "Sorry. Didnt mean to keep you all so
long."
"Dont apologize, Methos. It took as long as it took," MacLeod said.
Joe asked, "You all right, good buddy? You look a little pale."
I took a deep breath, then let it out. "Yeah, Im okay." I looked at
Dawson. "You
see anything? Remember anything?"
Quentin laughed. "Always the scholar, Methos. Why must you know?"
"Cause I must, is why," I answered angrily. "Joe, tell me."
"A little. Its vague. Like a dream. Its fading fast. I doubt Ill be
able to write much
about it, for the Chronicles." I could only imagine that one of the
others -
Quentin, probably - had managed to pull Joe into the walk with his
superior
empathic powers. I myself have all the empathic capabilities of a
doorknob, so I
knew it wasnt any of my doing.
"Even if you remember everything, Dawson, I ask you not to write of this
for your
Watcher Society," Quentin said. "Its private business."
"Whatever Methos says, Ill do," Joe replied. "He wants it in, its in.
He wants it
out, its out."
"I want it out, Joe. All of it. Unless you want to write a passage about
visiting
Amanda in Greece."
"Okay by me," Joe said cheerfully. "Whatever you say."
Duncan helped me up to the house, and the others followed. He offered me
a
beer but I refused. "Im tired, MacLeod. Im going to bed."
"Tomorrow, when the others leave, lets the four of us go island hopping,
get
some sun," MacLeod said hopefully. "Give Amanda the run of the shops with
my
credit cards."
"Yeah, you all deserve a little holiday, after what Ive put you
through." I spoke
softly, scarcely able to get the words out. I was exhausted.
"Good!" MacLeod patted my back, then squeezed my shoulder, not too hard.
"Good. You sleep now, old friend. Ill watch your door. Wouldnt want the
Old
Ones to get you while youre down, would we?"
"Not funny, MacLeod," I said bitterly. "But - thanks for the thought.
Good night."
Theres one last thing that happened to me, although it had nothing to do
with
the spaces between my worlds. It was more about my Mortality than my
Immortality. Yes, you might put it that way.
In the night, Amanda came into my room and watched while I slept. Id
tested her
loyalty pretty severely, I guess. But she was game, our Amanda. She
always is.
When I woke the next morning and found myself in her arms, I was tempted
once more, to try for her love. Clearly, I was fit again. Even for that.
"Not a word, Methos," she said, placing a finger on my lips. "Not a
single word."
"We wont live forever - you dont know what youre missing! Five
thousand
years of tricks!"
"Were Immortal, remember? Itll wait another day."
Im sorry to tell you, Im still waiting.
~~Finis~~
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