Disclaimer: Queen of Swords and Highlander: The Raven characters belong to
Fireworks Entertainment.
Author: Shirley Long
Rating: PG-13
Synopsis: A fateful encounter w/the Queen changes Grisham's life forever.
PROLOGUE
It was high noon in Santa Elena and the sun was scorching the sky overhead.
The Queen was crouched on one of the cliffs overlooking Callisto Road,
watching and waiting for the stage she knew would be coming through at any
moment. This stage was supposed to be carrying tax money to Monterey--money
that rightfully belonged to the people. In the past couple of months,
Montoya had managed to get two shipments past her. She couldn't afford to
miss a third--without that money, Montoya would gain control of several
small farms near her hacienda.
Within moments, Tessa's wait was rewarded by the sight of the stagecoach
approaching her position. She was about to leap onto the roof when she felt
the cold, steel point of a blade at her neck. Tessa put her hands up and
slowly rose to her feet, turning around to face her attacker. It was
Grisham. 'DAMN HIM!' she thought. 'Now I've missed the shipment! How are
the farmers gonna pay the taxes without that money? DAMN HIM!' Once Tessa
had turned around, Grisham gave her some room, but kept his sword at the
ready.
"Waiting for something, Queen?"
"I was hoping to catch a ride on the stage, but I guess I'll have to settle
for your 'charming' company instead."
Tessa drew her sword and lunged for Grisham. He parried her attack and
answered with one of his own. When he did, he opted for power over
technique and his hard attacks were wearing Tessa down. Her arm was quickly
tiring from parrying them. Suddenly, her foot slipped a little and she
noticed how close to the edge of the cliff his attack had driven her.
Another one would send her over. Immediately, her instincts took over. She
ducked the next attacked, moved under his reach and thrust her sword into
his chest.
Grisham's eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open and his sword clanged to
the ground. At that moment, time seemed to stand still for Tessa. She met
his eyes and saw the all-too familiar look of Death there--a look she'd seen
on Raul, on Mary Rose's foreman, and on countless soldiers; a look that
haunted her dreams every night and would continue to until the day she died.
Finally, she pulled the sword out of Grisham's chest. He dropped to his
knees and fell face-first to the dirt.
Tessa looked at the point of her sword covered in blood--Grisham's blood.
The reality of what had happened finally hit her. Her hands started to
shake and her sword fell to the ground next to Grisham's.
"Dios Mio, I've killed him!"
In her mind, Tessa was conflicted. Part of her was wondering why she was so
upset. All along, Tessa had her suspicions that Grisham fired the shot that
killed her father. Now, if indeed her suspicions had been right, she'd
finally avenged his death, at least partly. Still, there was this nagging
voice in the back of her mind that was telling her to feel guilty. Maybe
revenge isn't so sweet after all.
Tessa knelt down next to the body and placed her hand on the side of the
neck--just to be sure. There was no pulse, no reaction to her touch,
nothing. Grisham was really, truly gone. Tessa's next thought was about
what would happen if she were caught standing next to the body.
"I've got to get the hell out of here!"
Tessa scooped up her sword and ran to where she'd left Chico. She climbed
onto the saddle and steered him towards the beach. There was a cave there
she sometimes used as a hiding place. 'I can't go home just yet. There's a
lot going on in my head that I need to sort out and I can't do that
surrounded by servants.' When she arrived at her destination, the first
thing she did was take her sword to the water and wash the blood off. Then,
she tied Chico's reins to a piece of driftwood that had washed up on shore,
grabbed her bedroll from the saddle, and headed into the cave for the night.
**********************
Around five o'clock in the afternoon, on the cliff, Grisham woke up with an
audible gasp. 'What the...?' He rolled onto his back and tried to
re-orient himself with his surroundings. The sun was slightly lower in the
sky than he remembered. Grisham sat up and he could see that he was still
in the spot where he'd confronted the Queen. The last thing he remembered
was being stabbed by the bandita. 'I'm still alive, so she couldn't have
hit anything vital.' He looked down at his tunic and saw a dark spot where
his heart should be. Tentatively, he touched the spot and sure enough, it
was dried blood. 'Then again...' Still not quite believing his luck, Grisham
removed the tunic and examined it more closely. Right in the middle of the
dried blood was a slit roughly the size of the Queen's blade.
"Holy shit!"
He looked down and saw that his white shirt was also stained with blood and
had a hole exactly like the one in his tunic. Not quite sure what to
expect, he unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt and looked at his
chest. Despite the condition of his clothes, there was no wound. Not even
a scar. It was as if the stabbing had never occurred. Grisham pinched
himself once to prove to himself that he wasn't dreaming. Still in
disbelief, Grisham looked at his clothes and his chest once more.
"How in the hell is this possible? I should be dead right now. Yet here I
am, alive and breathing?and talking to myself. Isn't that the first sign
that you've lost your mind? I sure hope not. Jesus, I'm actually answering
myself. I must be nuts. 'Course, coming back from the dead will do that to
a guy. And how the hell am I gonna explain that one. I doubt the doc's got
any experience with this kinda thing. And I'm feeling really stupid at
this point so I'm gonna just shut up."
Grisham got up, brushed himself off, threw his tunic back on, and started
walking. On the way off the cliff he collected his sword, which was lying
in the dirt a few feet away from where he'd woken up. About a half a mile
down the road he found his horse waiting for him. He swung up onto the
horse's back and began the ride back to town.
*******************************
PART 1
About an hour later, Grisham neared the main road into Santa Elena.
Suddenly, another rider shot past him. The moment that rider got close,
Grisham was overcome with a feeling of nausea, accompanied by the worst
headache he?d ever had. He let go of the reins and grabbed the sides of his
head. The horse sensed the sudden change in his rider's demeanor and got
scared. He bucked, sending a hapless Grisham flying. The horse took off,
and the rider came crashing down headfirst a few feet away. At that moment,
Marcus Grisham died for the second time in half as many days.
**************************************
Amanda Montrose was on the run--again. This time, she'd managed to piss off
the Viceroy in Monterey. 'Could it have been the jewels? Or was it the
thousand reales?' She patted the saddlebag draped across her horse's neck
as she continued towards Santa Elena. As she neared the main road into
town, she felt the familiar sensation of another Immortal presence. She
didn't bother to stop and check it out, though--she couldn't afford to.
Sure, Amanda'd given the Viceroy's men the slip awhile ago, but mortals
tended to be quite persistent when it came to recovering stolen property and
she couldn't take any chances. She continued on, but instead of heading
into town, Amanda went in the opposite direction, towards the outlying
haciendas. 'Maybe I can con some don into giving me shelter for the night.'
***********************************
It was dusk in Santa Elena, and many of the candles in the Alvarado
household were lit. Marta sat in the kitchen, mending the bullet holes in
one of Tessa's shirts and wondering why she hadn't come home yet. There was
a knock at the kitchen door, so Marta hid the shirt and answered it. When
she opened the door, she was met by a tall, dark-haired woman. The woman
was dressed in men's clothing and had her hair tied back in male fashion.
She wore a black duster over the outfit and when the wind shifted, Marta
caught a glimpse of the short broadsword that hung at her side. 'Well, this
is interesting--but not unusual, considering the life Tessa leads. She
looks like a woman who can take care of herself. I wonder what she could
want from me.'
"May I help you?"
"Yes. My name's Amanda Montrose and I'm in trouble. I need shelter for the
night, but no one else is willing to help. People take one look and slam
the door in my face."
"What's wrong?"
"Let?s just say that I made some really bad decisions in my lovelife. One
bad decision, really. I thought he loved me, but it turned out that what he
really loved was my money."
"I'm so sorry."
"That's not the worst of it."
"What happened?"
"The son of a bitch would steal from me and use the money to get drunk.
He'd come home late and..."
Amanda's voice broke and tears welled up in her eyes. Marta's heart went
out to her.
"And what?"
Amanda wiped away the tears and took a deep breath.
"He'd beat me bloody and then pass out somewhere. I learned to defend
myself, but still couldn't stop him. So, I took what I had left and fled.
He's had men following me ever since. I think I lost them, but..."
"It's okay, Senorita Montrose. You'll be safe here. My mistress isn't home
right now. I don't know exactly when she'll return, but I'm sure she won't
mind."
"Thank you. Thank you ever so much. I'm forever in your debt."
"It's no problem. We have plenty of room. Come in."
Amanda hefted the saddlebag of stolen goods onto her shoulder and followed
Marta into the house, silently congratulating herself on how easily she'd
convinced the servant woman to let her in.