He is Immortal
Born in deserts of Egypt over Three Thousand Years ago
And he is not alone.
There are others like him,
Some good, some evil.
For millennia he has battled the forces of darkness,
With holy ground his only refuge.
He cannot die,
Unless you take his head
And with it his power
In the end
There can be only one.
He is Tutenkamen
The Boy King
Ah, vive la France. I love this city. I've been here before,
but not since 1890. I have come to visit a friend of mine, Darius.
Darius and I have known about each other for centuries, but only
by reputation. I'm glad he had taken a great many light Quickenings
before I met him. He had been a great and terrible leader both
before, and after his awakening. As an Immortal he took many heads.
Some of them my friends. Who'd have thought we'd have become
friends?
As I get off the plane, I am jostled by a man in a hurry to get
off. Ah the impatience of youth. The man would probably laugh if he
heard me, a mere nineteen year old say that about him. If only he
knew.
The rest of my brief time at the airport is uneventful. I get
some food at the local McDonalds. A Double Royal with Cheese,
nothing less than a double will do for a hungry immortal. I didn't
have any trouble getting through customs. Over a millennia of
experience will do that for you.
The only difficulty I had was getting a cab. That seems to be a
constant no matter where I go. Finally I reach the hotel. and then
it happens. The buzz, the Quickening. I look around and see a
blonde haired young man, about the age I was when I was awakened.
He's just checked in. He's seen me as well.
I stand uncertainly for a moment. I'm not afraid of losing,
I've learned from the best. I merely have no desire to fight. I've
never looked for a fight, never sought anyone's head. He gives me a
courteous if cautious nod, and I return it.
"What the heck." I think. "If he wants to fight, then so be it.
I'm not going to run."
As I approach the desk, he looks at me warily.
"Don't worry." I whisper. "I'm not looking for any trouble."
"Good to know." he replies. There is no further discussion, as
there are too many people around. I invite him up to my room for a
drink.
"Maybe later. I've got an appointment to keep." he says. As do
I. I look forward to seeing my friend again.
Later, I am at the church where Darius lives. It has not
changed in over a hundred years. Amazing. As I look up at the
modest gothic church, I cannot help but remember the first time I met
Darius.
France, 1890
Tut entered the cathedral, fleeing a disastrous duel that had
nearly cost him his head. An Immortal named Ramses had attacked him.
Neither of them had gotten away unscathed. They were nearly evenly
matched, but Ramses had cheated.
Ramses had a pistol hidden in his boot, and when he'd tired of
trading blows with his opponent, had shot Tut in the left shoulder.
His sword arm. Tut had grabbed his sword and fled.
He was sure that Ramses would follow him here. But he was not
known for his patience and would most likely tire of waiting and
leave.
He sat in one of the pews and waited for his wound to heal. He
looked up at the Cross and smiled. "People form the strangest
religions." he thought. "Still, I guess I'll be polite and refrain
from praying to Ra in here."
That's when he felt the presence of another Immortal.
"Seeking refuge my friend?" someone behind him asked.
Tut stood, massaging his aching shoulder. He faced the other
Immortal, a monk.
"Yes I am." Tut said. "But apparently I'm not as desperate as
you."
The man smiled and extended his hand. "My name is Darius. I'm
pleased to meet you."
Tut took his hand and shook it firmly. "Well, well, I had no
idea I was in such exalted company." he said. "I had heard you'd
taken a great many Light Quickenings, but I had not known it was this
bad. I am Tut."
"Tut? As in The Boy King, Tut?"
"The one and only." Tut smiled.
"It seems that you are not the only one in good company my
friend." Darius smiled.
"Do you live here?" Tut asked. "Are you that anxious to escape
the game?"
"Rest assured," Darius said. "My residence here is not to save
my life. It is to save my soul."
"Then you really believe in this Christian religion?"
"You do not?"
"No, I'm Pagan and proud of it. I have remained in the same
religion for 3,000 years. And I have no intention of changing that
now."
"I wouldn't dream of converting you." Darius said. "But would
you like some wine? The Immortal you escaped is still outside."
"Well I am bit thirsty. I'd love to."
France, 1997
Ah good old Darius. Can't wait to see him again. In fact, I
don't see why I should. I go into the cathedral, it hasn't changed
much on the inside either.
"Darius!" I call. "Guess who's here?" There is no answer. I
begin to worry, could he have wandered off the holy ground of his
home and fallen prey to the game? No, surely not. One did not live
to be as old as Darius by being that careless and stupid.
"Darius?" I call again. Perhaps he simply did not hear me.
"Can I help you?" a voice asks. I turn, it is a mortal, and a
rather young one at that. Only about 20 or so. Older than I look
but still...
"Perhaps you can." I say. "I'm looking for a friend of mine,
Darius?"
"Oh dear." the man says. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to
tell you this but, Darius is dead."
"Dead?" I ask, adding just the right amount of remorse. To a
mortal dead is dead, but I have a bit more hope than that. "How?"
"He was....decapitated."
"What?" This time, the shock and disbelief are real. "Here?
In the house of God?"
"Yes," the man says. "It came as a great shock to us all.
Particularly the nice young man who found his body. Apparently he'd
been a friend of his as well."
Darius is dead? In the scheme of things, it's not surprising,
death was something Immortals face every time we fight. But on Holy
Ground? It is simply unheard of!
"Who...who found the body?" I ask. Perhaps it was a
coincidence, a mortal psychopath came into the church and killed
Darius. But I've lived too long to believe that. It was either an
Immortal, a terrifying thought, or a mortal who knew that to kill
him, he'd have to decapitate him. And that was even scarier. It
meant a mortal who knew about Immortals, and wanted them dead.
"A man named Duncan Macleod."
Duncan Macleod? Surely one of the Macleods could not be behind
this. I've heard nothing but good things about those two. Either
way, I'm willing to bet he can tell me more.
"Where can I find this Duncan Macleod?" I ask.
"I don't know." the man says. "I'm truly sorry sir."
"It's all right." I say. "It just comes as a surprise. That's
all."
As I leave, I feel the presence of another immortal. Glancing
around, I see the same young man I met this morning. He is standing
outside the gates, gazing at the building as if in a trance. He must
be remembering.
"Something on your mind?" I ask, snapping him out of it.
"You!" he says in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting an old friend." I say. "But he isn't here."
"Would his name happen to be Darius?" the boy asks
sympathetically.
"As a matter of fact it would." I answer. "You knew him too I
guess."
"Yeah. It was a shock to all of us when they-when he died."
"Who killed him?" I ask. I noticed his hesitation, he knows
something.
"It's a long story." the boy sighs. Then he extends his hand.
"I'm Richie Ryan." he says.
So, this is the new Immortal I've heard so much about. He was
quickly making a name for himself as Duncan Macleod's newest graduate.
"Pleased to meet you." I say, shaking his hand. "I am Tut." I
wait for the recognition that usually comes. I do not have wait long.
"As in King Tut?" he asks, astounded, his eyes wide.
"Not for a long time," I say. "But yes. I do have the
distinction of being a former Pharaoh of Egypt."
"Wow," Richie says. "It's like meeting Elvis or something."
"Another good friend of mine." I say. "I had lunch with him
just last week."
"You're kidding right?"
"Maybe." I laugh inside. I love to make that joke to young
immortals. Actually I've never met Elvis, he tries to keep a low
profile from what I understand. It's a good call in my opinion. If
we'd had tabloids in my time I'm sure I'd have made headlines. As it
is, it was at least a century before I was able to move about freely
again.
"There's something I don't understand," Richie says. "If you're
still alive, then whose body did they find in your tomb?"
"I wish I knew." I tell him. "All I know is that I was in my
coffin maybe a week before my mentor found me and released me. I
guess he put a mortal in there without telling me." Enough of this
banter, it's time to get down to business.
"I understand it was your teacher, Duncan Macleod who found
Darius' body." I say. "I would appreciate any information you, or he
could provide."
Richie thinks for a moment. I understand his caution. He's
only just met me, for all he knows I could be after a Quickening.
Finally he nods. "Come with me." he says. "I was just about to go
see him. We're having a reunion of sorts."
"Thank you." I say. "It takes a lot to trust an Immortal on a
first meeting."
"Actually I just think that if you tried anything he'd kill you."
"Could be."
Soon, we are at a small pier in the river. Docked there is a
converted barge which, apparently, Macleod makes his home. Upon
entering, I feel the Quickenings of several immortals. Apparently
they are indeed having a reunion. Richie makes the introductions,
Amanda, Duncan, Connor, Adam...
"Methos?" I think incredulously. "He's changed his name?" Well
it makes sense, the oldest living immortal that I know of would be a
prime target.
The man smiles. "Good to see you again." he says.
"You guys have met?" Richie seems surprised.
"It was a long time ago." I say. No need to blow my old
Mentor's cover.
"Well anyway, Mac, guys, this is King Tut."
Eyebrows throughout the room shoot up. "The Boy King eh."
Amanda says, shaking my head. "Never thought I'd meet you."
"You're not at all how I pictured you." Connor says. "From
Ramirez' description, I thought you'd look, well..."
"Older?" I smile. "Well it took him a bit to get used to being
taught by an eighteen year old. It's a pleasure to finally meet
you. Ramirez promised to bring you by one day. But," my mood
saddens when I remember the day my star pupil died. "He never got
the chance. And," I say, brightening. "It is a pleasure to meet
you all. Especially you Highlander." I shake hands with Duncan. "I
understand you were the man who found Darius' body."
"Are you usually prone to these mood swings?" Connor asks dryly.
I smile briefly. "Sometimes." I say, still looking at the
younger Macleod.
"I was the man who found his body." Duncan tells me. "He and I
were good friends. You knew him I suppose?"
"I'd only met him once." I tell him. "I was looking forward to
a second meeting." I study him for a moment. I know he is good, one
does not live to be four hundred years old without some skill. "Who
killed him?" I ask. "And why? If it was an Immortal why break the
golden rule? And if it was mortal, how did they discover us?"
Macleod studies me as well. No doubt he wonders what to tell
me, and how much. Whatever happened to Darius, he knows a great deal
about it.
"It was a mortal." he says finally. "He discovered us and
decided we were a threat. Darius was his first victim."
"Where is he?" I ask, keeping my voice even. Any mortal who
knows of us and intends to kill us is a threat that must be
eliminated, as much as it pains me.
"In the cemetery I expect." Mac says, smiling dryly. "I killed
him with his own knife."
The relief that floods me is almost palpable. It seems I will
not have to kill after all. "That's good to know." I say. "Well, it
was nice to have met you all." I turn to leave.
"What's your hurry?" Duncan asks. "Stay a while."
"Oh no," I say politely. "I wouldn't think of intruding on your
reunion."
"Nonsense." Connor says. "A Scotsman never turns away a guest.
Besides, I'd like to hear more about your days with Ramirez. He
never really said much about you except to mention you once or
twice."
Sitting down, I thank Duncan and Connor for their invitation.
It's been awhile since I've been with a group of Immortals. I take a
sip from the cup handed to me and smile at what appear to be my new
friends.
"Ramirez..."
Egypt 856 B.C.E.
Tut parried the blow, but he it was not as easy as it had once
been. "Very good!" he encouraged his pupil. "You continued to
improve!"
Ramirez merely grunted as he swung again at his teacher. It had
taken some getting used to, being immortal, but even more so being
taught by someone who appeared over twenty years his younger.
He parried a thrust made by his teacher and with a deft move,
knocked the sword from his hand. He placed the point of his sword at
Tut's neck and grinned.
"Looks like I win this one." he laughed. Moving the point, he
sheathed his sword and handed Tut his.
Later they sat in Ramirez' modest home.
"You have surpassed my expectations Ramirez." Tut said softly.
"And I think it time you and I part company."
Ramirez said nothing for a moment. "Where will you go?" he
asked finally.
"I don't know, I hear Greece is lovely this time of year."
"You know you will always be welcome in my home." Ramirez said,
grasping Tut's arm in a farewell gesture.
"We will meet again." Tut promised him.
France 1997
It's about then that I feel another Immortal outside.
"Were you expecting more company?" I ask.
"No." Macleod says, eyes narrowing. He and the others stand,
and reach for their swords.
"Well," I say. "Whoever is out there certainly has his pick of
opponents." I am just ahead of the others exiting the barge.
"Well, looks like I finally find my quarry and he's made himself
some friends." Ramses. Well it was bound to happen. 'Course he may
not be here for me.
"I have no quarrel with you others." he says. "This time. I
never leave a fight unfinished Tut."
Or perhaps he is. "So you've finally dug up the courage to
fight me again eh? Well I don't like leaving things unfinished
either. So let's get this over with."
I make a point of letting Ramses see the gun in my coat. "If
you try to cheat, I'll shoot you. Then I'll search you, remove all
your weapons but your sword, and we'll start over. Understand?"
"Very well." Ramses looks nervous. Apparently he's not sure he
can beat me in fair fight.
I draw my sword as I stride down the gangplank. It is an
Egyptian sword, buried with me when I was murdered.
"Let's do it."
He attacks immediately, hoping to keep me on the defensive. I
parry without effort, but I sense he is only using a fraction of his
strength. He's testing me.
He swings again but I'm no longer there. I duck and hack at his
legs. He jumps back, bringing his sword down. Again I parry.
Suddenly he erupts in a flurry of blows that drive me back, he has
improved over the years. His speed and strength have increased.
"Taken a few heads since we last met eh?" I say, hiding my
tenseness. I too have taken a head or two since then but unlike him
I do not seek out battle.
He feints the left but I see through it and kick him. He grunts
as my foot connects with his hip. He swings again, and though I
parry, he drives me to one knee. My sword is almost driven from my
hand. He kicks me in the knee and then slashes my thigh.
I hiss in pain and limp back. Time for a new game plan.
Someone once said to me, if you are ever hard pressed in battle,
confuse your enemy.
Raising my sword, I scream the first thing that pops into my
head. "Iambic Pentameter!"
The look of surprise and confusion on Ramses' face shows me I
have succeeded. I hit his sword and twirl my sword backwards in my
hand, bringing it up across his now unprotected stomach and chest.
Finishing the arch of my sword, I twist it slightly and in one quick
move, I slice off his head.
"There can be only one." I whisper, then the Quickening hits me.
It is at once wonderful and terrible. My mind is flooded with
memories not my own. My body fills with the power of Ramses and all
those he has killed and the ones they have killed and so on. It's
like Aids that way. The physical pain is also extreme, but it
subsides quickly.
When it is over I slump to the ground, recovering. "May your
heart be even with the feather." I murmur in an old Egyptian Funeral
blessing.
I look up at the others. It's a scene they have seen many
times, but I see that they are no more used to it than I am.
"Macleod," I say. "I thank you for your hospitality, but I'm
afraid I must decline."
"I understand." Duncan says. I shake their hands and head off
to find a taxi.
What to do now?
To be continued...
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