DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Panzer/Davis, Rysher, and whoever else has a legal claim to them.  Absolutely no money made - my bank manager hates me - and this is just for fun.

ALIEN NATURE

BY MAGGIE

It had been a lesson hard in the learning, but the staggering depth of feeling which it engendered had at least ensured that it would not be easily forgotten. Letting his gaze roam over the items of furniture, clothing and other personal possessions which were scattered around the room, Methos could bring to mind a memory attached to each of them: the little trinket box that he had bought for her, it seemed like an age ago, in the Market place; the dress she had worn the day they had taken a trip up into the hills and finally confessed their love for each other, and the amulets they had exchanged that night in the grove outside the village of Samur, having just consummated that love.

There were other, darker memories too. A small dagger which she kept with her to defend herself from the husband she had run from, in order to escape his brutal and possessive treatment of her; had it only been five days ago that he had learned of that? The man had been looking for her for weeks and had finally caught up with her one evening when she and Methos had been returning from visiting a friend. Leaping out of the shadows he had advanced on Karrid who, retreating hurriedly, had drawn the knife and threatened her mad assailant with death should he not leave her alone. He had laughed, ignoring the threat and had quickly moved in on her.

It was only at this moment that Methos had been able to intercept the man and warn him off with a cut from his own knife. Even before the man had appeared before them, his head had begun swimming with, as he realised later, the power of the other's presence. It had been like being draped suddenly in an isolating circle of darkness, his mind pungent with the press of the man's existence, leaving him unaware of what happened for the passage of several seconds.

He had acted quickly enough once the awareness of his surroundings returned, and he recognised the threat to the woman he cared for, but afterwards, when the man had left them, with the threat of legal retribution still ringing in their ears, he had been unable to do anything except hurry her home with him, thence barricading themselves as best as was possible into the small house. Even now, he could recall their conversation as they waited in the dark for any repeat attack.

"Karrid, who was that man?"

Wringing her hands and pacing about the room, she told her story in bits and pieces, confused and shaken as she was by the encounter.

"I'm sorry my love, I should have told you, but I never thought he could find me here; I thought I was free of him, and I wanted nothing else but to forget."

"But who is he?"

There followed a lengthy silence as she wrestled with the awful truth of her situation; finally she confessed her sin to him, reluctantly, doubt obvious in her demeanour as she wondered what Methos' reaction to the news would be.

"Heshan is ... he is my husband."

"Your ... husband? Karrid, gods, do you know what you've done!!? That man has the right to have you put to death!! Was it worth it?"

Tears fell from her eyes, which held panic and fear, as for the first time she faced the possible consequences of what she had done. "I had to get away from him!!" she cried, the panic setting in well and truly now. "Heshan was cruel, not just to me, but to everyone around him!! I thought I would die or go mad!! I had to get out!"

At this Methos, putting aside his fear for the present, went over to the distraut woman, and, putting his arms around her, comforted her as best as he was able.

"It's alright, Karrid, it's alright; we'll think of something. I won't let him near you again, I promise; but now we have to get out of here." Looking around for her wrap, which she had let fall from her arms forgotten as soon as they had entered the house, he picked it up and put it round her.

He knew someone in the next town, two hours away, and without bothering to pack up anything, he hurried Karrid out of the door with the intention of trying to put some distance between them and her husband in the hope that it would at least buy them some time in which to decide on an effective course of action.

It was not to be.

They had only gone a few yards when they were surrounded by members of the Watch, swords drawn and demanding that the two of them give themselves up. There were too many of them for Methos to take on alone, and besides that, within moments of them being stopped the overpowering presence of Karrid's Immortal pursuer invaded Methos' being once more, that experience alone enough to disable him long enough to make any thoughts of escape impossible.

When he was compus mentis enough to be able to take in their situation once more, he saw Heshan, just beyond the ring of steel which had them penned in, and there was a man with him, someone he recognised. His heart sinking, Methos wondered just what his former servant was doing with Karrid's husband. No good, undoubtedly; Methos had sent the man packing after he caught him out in a lie about stealing various items which had mysteriously gone missing during the course of the last few months. It was obvious that Hebuk was now after revenge for that.

"What is your hand in all this Hebuk? More lies?"

"No lie, Master," Hebuk replied with a sneer, and he smiled; an evil enough expression to have Methos wishing for a means of wiping it off his face permanently. However, trapped as he was, he could do nothing but goad the man into bragging about his part in his and Karrid's capture.

Karrid herself had hidden her face behind the veiling presence of her wrap, and Methos could feel her shivering with fear where her small body was pressed against his side. His arm tightened around her and he looked out at his captors in mute defiance awaiting their next move. The man in charge of the Watch that night, came forward, sword at the ready and he took hold of Karrid by the arm attempting to pull her away from her protector. Methos held on to her, refusing to relinquish his charge, ignoring the sudden pain as Karrid's grip bit deeper into his arm.

"What business do you have with this woman?" he asked, his look threatening emptily enough as there was nothing he could do to keep the Watch from taking her into custody; even so the man slackened his grip on Karrid, seeming unworried over answering the question.

"She stands accused of adultery; this man, Heshan, is her husband, and he has a witness to testify that she has given you false witness about her state and has allowed herself to be known by you." It was no more nor less than the truth, Methos realised and yet how could her allow Karrid to be taken and put to death when the real crimes had been committed by her brute of a husband?

How could he prevent it? There was no escape from their present situation in fact, should such a thing be attempted, it would almost certainly mean death for both of them. Unless he be beheaded of course, Methos would undoubtedly survive such a course of action; Karrid however would not. On the other hand, if they surrendered to the Watch that would at least mean that Heshan would have no further opportunity to abuse his wife; also there was a possibility that she might escape fatal punishment if Methos could persuade the Keeper of Justice that she had little choice but to escape the vile attentions of her husband if she did not want to end up dead.

So, in the end, Methos agreed to the Watch's demands and, reassuring Karrid with the thought that whilst they still lived there was hope to save her from the usual punishment for what she had done, the two of them were marched away to the Charge house with Heshan and Hebuk in tow looking none too pleased despite the way the events had been resolved. Perhaps they had been hoping that the captives would make a break for it, giving the Watch cause to cut them down where they stood.

Once they had been registered at the Charge house, Methos and Karrid were taken to the Guard house to be locked up for the night, having been told that they would be presented to the Justice Keeper the next morning.

"Once it has been established beyond doubt that you had no prior knowledge of the woman's state of marriage to the man Heshan, you will be free to go," Methos was told, though the thought could hardly give him much comfort at that moment.

Karrid's thin frame was still shivering at his side, in anticipation of her dreaded fate and it seemed that nothing Methos could tell her would persuade her to any other more positive outlook.

She kept her eyes down, whether in some sort of denial over her circumstances or to avoid having to look at their fellow inmates, Methos wasn't certain; keeping her close in to his side he made his way with her over to an empty spot near a pillar which supported the roof of the underground cavern where they were being held prisoner and, settling as comfortably as they could on the cold dampness of the floor, the two of them prepared to spend a night bereft of comfort except that which they had in the fact of each other's company.

It didn't take long, the next morning, to establish Methos' innocence of Karrid's crime; he became more and more confused by the way that both Heshan and Hebuk were at pains to emphasise that there should be no blame attached to him. It was inexplicable that they should bear witness to this when the smug looks which they gave him were so at odds with their actions.

His confusion was desperate to be expressed in the outburst he could feel building up inside him, but the Justice would give him only one chance to speak and that, he knew, had to be given over to pleading for leniency for Karrid. The outrage he felt at the two men's testimony threatened to choke him as they left the room having sealed his beloved's fate with their damning words. It was only then that his mind, at work on the dichotomy since the beginning of the hearing, gave him the answer.

He was horribly reminded of a man he had seen once tethered to a post on the outskirts of a town far to the South, who had been unable to move from his confinement, nor even make a sound to express his rage and horror at his position due to the fact that he had had his arms, legs and tongue cut from his body as a terrible punishment for some unspeakable crime that he had committed some months previously. So strong had been the feeling against what this man had done that death had not been considered punishment enough; it was deemed that he should be reduced to this pitiful state and forced to live with the humiliation, frustration and pain for what remained of his life.

That Methos loved Karrid was undoubtedly known to the two men; each for their own reasons they wished him alive to suffer the pain of her inhuman punishment and her loss to himself. Even as he looked up into her judge's eyes, having been given the chance finally to speak, he caught the unmistakable glint of determination there and realised, before he even began to speak, that his plea would go unconsidered.

No matter the words he used, nor the enthused eloquence which he gave them, made any difference to the man's expression. It was a useless token gesture, he knew it, and his heart flooded with anger at the finality of the sentence, already decided on, which Karrid would soon have to suffer.

When it was pronounced it was all he could do to keep Karrid from collapsing with fright.

"Is this fair?" he asked, holding the terrified woman close, protectively. "Is this justice?" he continued in anger.

"It is the law," replied the Keeper, stonily and without another word, left the room, a signal seemingly that the proceedings were at an end. The two guards who had brought them in took hold of Karrid and would have marched her away then and there had not Methos tried to stop them. His efforts were to no avail however and more guards came forward to keep him from interfering any further.

He felt the cold hands of horror squeeze around his heart as it finally came home to him that within half an hour Karrid would be dead and there was nothing he could do about it. His own answer to that circumstance was a sudden cold resolve, and shaking off the guards, he walked slowly from the building, not stopping to pause and consider his next actions until he was out in the open air once more.

Turning to look back at the building he gave it a long, considering look, contemplating the fate of the two men who were even now, leaving, laughing at their triumph and his defeat.

'Laugh away,' he thought, in his mind seeing only one end for these men and that would be sooner than either of them would expect. 'I shall have revenge for Karrid and myself before the day is out.'

Turning back to the path once more, he followed it to the market square and then disappeared into the bustling morning crowds.

Staring unseeing into the flames of the small fire he had lit on the hearth stones, Methos curled his hands around the sword which lay across his lap, so recently cleaned. Bathed and changed, he still felt the hot splashes of blood on his skin and he shivered at the memory of that last kill.

His former servant had been easy to deal with; he had known the man's haunts and it had been simple enough to find him and follow him to his final destination.

It was no more than a hut on the outskirts of the city, the dirt and untidiness revealing Hebuk's true state of mind. Waiting until the single light within had been extinguished, Methos crept inside, hovering just inside the entrance to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.

Hebuk was asleep, looking as if he had lost consciousness as soon as he hit the filthy mattress which was his bed, in one corner of the room. Methos slew him where he lay, quietly and with no feelings of remorse, with a knife which up until that moment he had only used for cutting up food. A single stroke through the heart was all it took. Then, without a backward glance he left, his mind already on Karrid's husband, Heshan.

Methos prowled the city for most of the rest of the evening, looking for the man, his mind full of imagined images of Karrid's final moments. He had not stayed to witness her execution, knowing she was past saving and considering that it would be better to spend his time planning revenge than torturing himself with Karrid's fear and pain.

Yet as he wandered street after street he began to wonder if the pictures rising unbidden to his mind's eye would haunt him forever, and he found himself regretting not being with Karrid at the end.

Suddenly his eyes lit on Heshan walking down a side street with a woman dragging along beside him, a prostitute begging for money in a thin wheedling tone. Heshan himself looked smug and obviously having had his needs satisfied; it was also obvious that he had no intention of paying the woman, which knowing what he already did of Heshan, Methos realised that such behaviour was a habit that he had had all his life.

'Not for much longer,' Methos promised himself, clinging to the shadows and having to bite his lip and restrain himself from confronting the man at that moment, as Heshan kicked the woman out of his way, sending her sprawling into a doorway.

Still keeping back in the shadows, Methos followed him, still not feeling the man's presence as yet. He wanted to wait until there was no-one around to interfere with their combat before he closed in.

He was surprised to find Heshan heading for the city gate; why would he be leaving the city at this time of night and unaccompanied by any guards?

'Better and better,' he thought, and was about to follow him beyond the gate when a thought crossed his mind which would undoubtedly increase his chances of not being caught at a later date for Heshan's murder, should he survive the encounter.

Changing direction he ascended the steps that led up to the top of the city wall, and keeping low, spied out the direction Heshan was taking. South West towards the nearby hills; descending the steps again, he hurried to a ropemaker's shop that he knew of nearby and climbing over the wall which surrounded the place, he entered the shop through a window at the back and tip-toeing quietly and holding his breath, he felt around more than looked, for what he needed. His left hand closed on a coil of rope suitable for the descent of the wall, and gingerly picking it up he carefully rested it over his shoulder and left the way he had come.

Once up on the wall again, careful that no-one should see him, he fastened the rope to a nearby wooden stanchion and slid down the rope, managing to give himself a rope burn in the process. Ignoring the pain, he headed off in the direction Heshan had taken.

Once into the hills, Methos proceeded with more caution, hoping to catch sight of his prey by the light of the near-full moon, before he could be sensed; it was in his mind to trick his adversary giving him a necessary edge, as he was unsure just how good Heshan was with a sword. Sight, however, proved unnecessary as his ears provided the man's location; there were voices raised in argument, one of which was certainly Heshan's, somewhere over to his left, and circling around to come up on the upwind side of the two men, Methos pulled himself, foot by foot on his belly, to the top of the rise, and looked down into the small valley below him.

Heshan was wrangling with another man, obviously a merchant by the looks of the pack animals he had with him. 'Someone else you're trying to cheat, you son of a pit snake,' thought Methos, a harsh and hungry grin on his face.

The two men appeared to be scuffling together in some sort of fight and a ragged cry split the night air like the sudden warning of a night bird. The other man fell to his knees and then toppled to the ground and lay still. Peering carefully down at the scene, lit by the moon's colourless glow, Methos could just make out Heshan wiping the blade of his sword on the sleeve of his garment before sheathing it once more.

There was no way that he could sneak up on his intended victim, so gathering his courage, fuelled by his hatred of Heshan, Methos clambered silently atop the ridge and yelling out his rage and bloodlust in a single long wordless cry, the blood roaring in his ears, he flew down the slope, sword raised in anticipation of the first cut.

He was lucky. Heshan was caught unawares and was at first unable to identify his attacker. By the time he could see who it was it was too late. Heshan drew his sword hastily but with Methos already upon him, was unable to prevent that first stroke from cutting into his right arm, which meant that his sword arm was temporarily disabled. He caught at his sword with his left hand but was again to slow; Methos swung his sword wide across his opponent's mid-section, cutting a deep gash across Heshan's abdomen, almost disembowelling him.

The man fell to his knees, doubled over and Methos moved in for the kill, raising his sword high. Heshan, fuelled by desperation, lashed out as his former prey, now become hunter, came in close, but leaping above the blade, Methos avoided Heshan's only telling blow of the short battle, and his sword came down neatly severing his victim's head from his neck even as he landed.

The body hit the ground and it seemed to Methos that everything went suddenly quiet as the result of the battle began to sink in. The sword dropped forgotten from his hand, and he looked down at the body; the sight of it, headless, struck the young Immortal with a sudden unreasonable fear. His gaze was drawn irresistibly to the head which had come to rest, face upwards, against a nearby outcrop of rock, and it's sightless eyes seemed to mock him with a presage of doom.

He barely had time to move when the strength of the man's presence was suddenly around him, ghostly fingers reaching for him relentlessly, clutching him in a wild, exquisitely painful dance. Under the onslaught, he lost all awareness of his surroundings; all control over himself lost, he could only suffer the almost unbearable pain and the more than sexual pleasure as Heshan's spirit and personality forced itself into his body and mind.

It was a kind of rape, and later, when he had had time to recover and was able to reflect on the experience, the thought of what had happened to him was repulsive to him, and he felt the need to be rid of everything he carried around inside him now, that was Heshan. But short of killing himself, he could think of no way to do that.

He left the body where it lay and without thought to what he was doing, he wearily made his way back to the city.

He got back inside the walls the same way he had left, although his strength was only just up to the task, and for awhile he just sat, hidden in the shadows at the base of the steps, drained both in body and spirit. Eventually, in fear of being discovered there, he dragged himself up and made his way slowly back to his house. All he could think of was water and Karrid; water to bathe in endlessly in the hope that it would wash away at least some of the feeling of being permanently soiled by the unforeseen consequences of his crime, and Karrid ... Oh, how he wanted to just fall into her arms, in search of some kind of forgiveness and peace; but that could not happen now, and as he walked, the awful emptiness of loss gripped him, its cold, torturous presence growing in strength with every step he took.

In the overriding aftermath of emotion and shock which had hold of him, sobs began to tear their way out of him and tears fell uncontrollably from his eyes; under the whips of bitterness, fear and self-loathing, his steps became faster until he was running almost blindly, through the streets and alleyways, automatically taking him to the only refuge he could think of.

At last he stumbled through the doorway and, knowing himself to be safe, at least for the moment, he let go of all caution and crumpled to the floor, writhing in an agony of confusion and loneliness. It was several hours before he had enough control of himself to drag himself to the small canal which ran at the back of the house and he sank down into the water, uncaring of whether he drowned or not ...

Sheathing the sword slowly, deliberately, as if that act could put away all thoughts of what had happened, he stood up and, took one final look around at all the reminders of happier times, considering whether he should take any of them with him.

In the end he decided not to; anything which reminded him of Karrid would only serve to accentuate, not only the subsequent horrible loss of her, but also the shattering experience which had followed his own murderous actions.

He felt isolated now, in a way he could have never before conceived of; he remembered now the stabbing in the market place, too many years ago, and the waking from it, seemingly unharmed. Then the unnatural youthfulness which stayed with him from that moment, his body refusing to age, in contradiction to the existence of all other living things. In confusion and fear he had run away from these things, both in his mind and physically, moving from place to place every ten years or so, to avoid the awkwardness and the reality of questions.

Now however, presented with this final overwhelming evidence of his alien nature, he suddenly could no longer run from the awful truth, and his mind reeled with unanswered questions. Above any other considerations now, he needed answers to those questions, and some deep instinct told him that he would not find them here.

There were other places, other cities, which held great seats of learning; there were men, wiser than any here, that he had heard of, who might have knowledge of what had happened to him, and he felt driven to seek them out, knowing, beyond any logical reason as to why, that his very survival was dependant on discovering what made him different to his other fellow mortals. Picking up the small bundle of clothes, food and writing equipment, he left the house and headed towards the temple. If this journey, both physical and spiritual was to have any measure of success at all, he felt it was necessary to at least make some small offering to the deity he believed in. Afterwards he would head for the city gates and try his best never to look back ...

... Watching the certain though heavy footsteps of the figure as he walked through the streets towards the tall, impressive building in the centre of the city, presented to him in small, the old man stroked his beard absently and smiled for a moment. It was the beginning of a new life for the man he could see before him, and would be of a length almost beyond comprehension; this first step would lead the young Immortal unwaveringly to him, and then, when he had learned all the wiser man could teach him, would take him to other lands, other peoples, other experiences which would burn and refine him until he was ready to shoulder the considerable responsibility which would have to be his alone.

The old man sighed as he reflected on this and on the future he alone had seen; the ending was lost in the distant mists of time-to-come, but he knew that if the Beast, Chaos, was not to reign in that future time, Methos would have to hold true to the destiny which was already his. The temptations and bitter blows would be many, but the old man would do everything within his power to see that his student was prepared, both in strength of will and purpose, and in resources and understanding, to face and overcome each obstacle that littered the long path before him.

Enough. It would not be many days before this new and most important task was upon him, and he had much to do to prepare. Reaching out his right hand, he scattered the vision from the waters of the tiny pool, and leaning on his stick, rose to his feet and went back inside the house to shelter from the blind, bright rays of the endlessly shining Sun.