~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Surprise by Carole A Highlander/Wars of Light and Shadow Crossover ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ See part 1 for disclaimer. Part 2/2 Dakar wiped the sleep out of his eyes to find Allivar watching him, and the rest of the woods disserted. He'd slept poorly, trying to associate the killer and healer of Arin's story with the man who was now watching him. He gave up. *Doesn't matter anyway. We'll be parting company soon. What I'd love to know was how he got out of those chains in the first place, that could definitely be useful.* "Awake are we?" The minstrel was much too cheerful. "Go away," he muttered. "It can't be morning yet." "Well, you got that half right. You've just mixed up the early part. Morning has come and gone." "What...?" Allivar rose to his feet and stretched. "I'd guess it's about one or so." Dakar's eyebrows raised. "What?!? Why didn't you get me up?" Those Sunwheelers could have caught up to them with all the time they'd spent here. "I tried. Gave up eventually. It isn't my fault you're such a sound sleeper. Don't worry. Everything's packed. I just wanted to wait until you ate before I saddled the horses." Dakar glared and the man continued, "I figured we were safer here anyway. Hopefully they'll have passed us by by now." Muttering unsavoury things about the minstrel, mornings and the world in general, Dakar dragged himself to his feet and sniffed suspiciously at the rations Allivar placed before him. "Did you say something?" That voice again. Now that he was more awake, he could recognize the inflection. The man was laughing at him. "No," he growled back. The man was starting to remind him suspiciously of Arithon. He winced, remembering how the man had fooled him for months with those illusions of his. Looking at this man, he knew that this wasn't the case this time. Something itched at him, though, something was wrong. *Scars… he has no scars.* If the tale Arin told was true, that shouldn't be the case, and this man, unlike Arithon, did not purposely wear clothing to disguise such things. *Maybe I'm wrong. I probably just have to get closer to see them. they fade with time, after all.* *** They had been travelling for several hours now, and Dakar paid more attention to his surroundings this time. He wouldn't be caught off guard again. All the attention he could spare, however, was on Allivar. It did nothing to relieve his suspicions from that morning, though there was nothing to arouse them either. There was no doubt in his mind that the minstrel knew how to use the blade he was carrying. A real horseman too, but that was expected from all the travelling he did. Allivar himself, however, seemed different than he had the day before. The way he held himself, the set of his jaw was harder, not as joking. *Masks,* he realized. *This man views the word behind masks, a different one for each occasion.* Whether it was a true revelation or just paranoia, he couldn't tell, but the thought was unsettling. Dakar knew himself to be a bad judge of character, so hoped for the best. Such revelations and snap judgements were not to be trusted. He finally gave up trying to read the man. It was merely driving him crazy and paid more attention to where his horse was placing its feet. Allivar's sudden halt caused his horse to shy back. He looked at the tall man suspiciously and found a rock hard mask in place, eyes glittering like dark jewels. *** *Blood.* Methos tested the air around him. *I smell blood.* That would explain his horse's nervousness. *This is no rabbit, not even a stag. Its strong enough that I can notice it, there's too much.* A horrible premonition surfaced and he shivered, narrowing his eyes. He dismounted, handing his reigns to the confused Mad Prophet. Feet making no sound on the trail, he drifted like a ghost forward into the woods, turning once to ask Dakar to wait, before making his way into the undergrowth. A sense of self preservation told him that forewarned was forearmed, but that feeling was back behind his eyes, and his heart clinched. The immortal searched for the best path over the rocky, overgrown hill ahead, and scrambled up. He knew that whatever he wanted to know lay on the other side. There was no sound but the shifting of wind among the branches. Digging his hands into stone, he propelled himself forward, branches scratching at his face and tearing his hair. Pulling himself behind a boulder, to not be seen by those on the other side, he did his best to blend in with his surroundings and looked down. Methos, who had seen and caused more bloodshed than any other man he knew, retched. Inside, something snapped as Arin's lifeless eyes stared up at him across the distance, tongue lolling out of his mouth from his severed head. Taria was face down, almost peaceful, but the blood around her destroyed the illusion. Others lay scattered about, some Sunwheelers, some clan]bred, but there was no doubt. The small troop had fought hard, and died for it, overwhelmed by the larger force of Sunwheelers -- Sunwheelers who had probably been searching for him. He lowered his lids against the scene, turned away and spit the fowl taste out of his mouth. The black fire of anger welled up within, but it was a cold fire, Arctic ice, As cold as a blade and twice as deadly. Death walked away back to his horse. There were things he needed to do. *** "We go this way." Dakar jumped at the voice as Allivar came out of the woods. "I think I found a way for the horses." His face was cold and eyes stony. There was no inflection. "What is it?" he asked nervously. There was no reply, simply an empty glance that left Dakar shivering. This was the capable killer that Arin had spoken of, without the healer to temper it. Knowing that opening his mouth was not the best idea, he followed silently, his fear of what was to come drowning out his usual protests and whining over the annoyances of travelling. Huffing to himself, he stumbled over roots and silently prayed to Ath that the horse would twist its leg. He didn't want to have to walk everywhere. His eyes widened as they came across the last hill. It had been a slaughter. Allivar ignored the bodies, stepping over them and attempting to keep his mount calm, even when he went past Arin's headless corpse. He simply continued, walking towards the path the Sunwheelers had taken. This even Dakar would not stomach. "Are you crazy? You're going to follow them?" he exclaimed, still looking around at the carnage. Apathy had never been so terrifying, but the new glint in those eyes reminded him more of one of the Fellowship than a simple mortal. "Yes." Again, the voice was calm and monotone. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I have something to do." *He's snapped. Probably planning to die in a suicidal attack.* The man's prey would be easy to follow. they'd been so confident that they hadn't bothered to hide their trail. He couldn't just let the man kill himself, so he followed, though he was quite prepared to run in the other direction if something happened. There was no way he was going to argue with that face of stone. *Maybe he'll come out of it.* He snuck a glance over at his companion. *Or perhaps not.* *** Forced to stop, Dakar watched as Allivar cocked his head, listening. The Mad Prophet heard nothing, but almost reached out with his "other" sense to find what was wrong. He never got the chance. "Stay here." Allivar's voice was still cold and calm. There was no thought to following the man, instead, he again considered running in the other direction. "What is it?" The man's back was to him as he moved forward carefully, leaving Dakar behind, and left the question unanswered. For what seemed eternity -- though was closer to a few minutes -- Dakar waited. He closed his eyes, cursing his lack of practice and patience and reached out yet again. Yells of alarm and then screams jerked him back to the physical. They were fairly close by, and he threw himself forward, forgetting for an instant that he was badly outnumbered and that, if he wanted to prevent the minstrel's death, he should have knocked him over the head earlier and restrained him until he came to his senses. Burning. Fire. Lightning. He fell to the ground, clutching his head as a blast of pure power rippled through the air. He couldn't breath. *Sunwheelers wouldn't have a wizard this powerful. Ath, what is that thing?* echoed through his shocked mind, and he rose to his feet shakily. Whatever had stirred, he didn't want to meet it, but he needed to find out what it was to give warning. Mounts forgotten, he moved forward, crawling to his feet and ran. Trees rushed past, Dakar stumbled several times, but scrambled to his feet and continued. He almost lost his life again, forced to jump out of the way to avoid spooked horses. Then, suddenly, he was there. How one man could do that much damage, he didn't know. There were so many of them, they had to take him down, but no blow seemed to touch him, moving through the soldiers like Death himself. Others had been trampled to death by their own frightened mounts. He just stood, too stunned to move and ignored by those fighting for their lives. One lucky man landed a blow that should have gutted this demon, but he smiled and ran him threw, the only sign of his injury was the arm clutched to his stomach and the slight hunch in his shoulders. He watched not the carnage around him, but the minstrel. Forcing his mage-sight despite the battle and aura of death, he looked. *Ath, no man can have an aura like that.* It was like staring at the sun and his eyes watered. The rage and hate blurred the pure white with shades of red and black, like the taint of the fight and deaths seeping into the earth. "Dharkaron Avenger," he whispered. Allivar was no mere man, but something other. There was no chariot, no black steeds, but this was him, there was no doubt. An arrow came from his right, as one clever fellow attempted to cut the monster down before it could reach him for a distance. It was simply pulled out, as if the man felt no pain and still did not slow. He had done the impossible, now the few who remained tried to run, not attack. How could one fight someone who did not stop, no matter the injury? Now there was only the soft sound of a young man, almost a boy, weeping in terror among the dead. He stared up at cold golden eyes. For a moment, Dakar thought this one would be left to escape as Allivar stared at him. Before he gave him a quick end with a blow to the heart. There was silence, and the spellbinder could practically feel the dead shades around him despite the overwhelming presence of their killer. Then, it was over. Allivar glanced up at him, and the ice shattered. He took a step, and fell to the ground. The aura about him vanished, and Dakar concentrated on restraining his own sensitivity. The ghosts here would not look kindly on either of them. Like the boy had earlier, the monster that had caused this butchery wept among the dead. The wind brought his words to Dakar. "My friend, I told you to be careful." *** A gasp echoed amid the silence, a sudden intake of breath and one of the body's convulsed spasmodically. Methos head jerked up, his eyes dry once more. That face again greeted him. He knew that face. //A cry of surprise. A young Sunwheeler cut down in confusion. One amidst a sea of others in the struggle to be free again.// It was only two days ago he had found out about that man's immortality. If he hadn't been shielding, as was his usual habit, he would have finished it then. Permanently. He stood, wiping the blood and tears from his face as the other man clawed his way to his feet, waiting. "You..." It was a growl. "I know you. You killed me on board the Maelier." The accusation ignored recent events and Dakar's stare at the dead man who had risen once again. "I challenge you." *** He gaped. This was something he had not seen in all his years as an apprentice to one of the Fellowship. It was possible to stave off death, but not bring true bodily resurrection this way. "I challenge you." Allivar did not seem surprised. In fact, he looked like he had expected these words, whatever they meant. The man simply drew his sword, exhausted as he was and moved to meet his new opponent. Dakar suspected that the fight would have been over quickly. Fortunately for Allivar, the Sunwheeler was not in the best shape himself. Both moved stiffly as he watched with a horrible fascination, weaving between the bodies at their feet. That proved to be the end of the fight. The soldier, he clothes torn and bloody, misjudged the position of one of his former fellows torsos and fell. With one blow, Allivar removed both his sword and his arm. The man fell to the ground, but surprisingly maintained consciousness and managed to speak. "Do it, but first, tell me who you are." "No," was the only reply, denying the man his last request and, with a twist, Allivar brought his sword around with all his remaining strength. Time seemed to slow, the head tilting back, hitting the ground before the force of the blow knocked what remained of the kneeling man sideways to the reddened earth. It was a low roar that rumbled almost below hearing and mist gathered around the form of the fallen man, enclosing everything in a vague layer of white and blue. It rippled and moved as if drawn by some unseen wind, twirling about the only one who remained standing besides Dakar. Fire lashed out, lightning, and the hawk-nosed man jerked and screamed, falling to the ground. Like vengeance, it was relentless, beating him down. A tree crashed down and Dakar jerked back and small fires appeared amidst the brush. It stopped with a whimper from Allivar, who lay moaning, no doubt from pain. Still, he managed to gain the strength sit as another movement caught Dakar's eye. It was the boy, the one who had been crying, who was the last to die. Laughter echoed at his confusion, a cold and bitter laughter as the man who had uttered it had been earlier. It contained no humour. Those bewildered eyes made their way to the one who had extinguished them in the first place. There was a twist of a smile to his lips when he spoke. "Surprise." The smile turned into a death's head grin. "You're not dead." ~END~ NOTES : Names have been taken from my attempt at a Paravian dictionary. I hope I got these right. Allivar roots: alli = to preserve/save avar = memory Arin roots: arin = strong Eishlier roots : eishlier = sheltered place Elie roots : Ummm... I can't find them now. Urg. Laere roots : laere = grace Sainfiar roots : san =black ianfiar = birch Taria roots : taria = knots Talien roots : talien = precious Valith roots : val = straight lith = to keep/nurture/preserve The last line is deliberately the same as Methos told Cassandra. It was one of the parts in CaH/Rev68 that always struck me, so I decided to use it.