(I forgot to say that permission is given to Seventh Dimension to = archive--all others please ask. ~Celedon) Chapter 2=20 Darius peered into the dark reaches of the church from where the softly = clipped voice came from but couldn't discern a body. "Is it really you?" = Methos looked at himself; he half smiled as he watched Darius who stood = near the altar. "Last time I looked it was."=20 Darius turned and lit the candelabra and began to walk towards where = Methos stood. "You and I parted ways centuries ago. You became a rumor; = a myth."=20 "Mythology has its' advantages, Dareios. You too have myths surrounding = you from what I have heard." Methos shifted his position and pressed = himself further into the shadows. "Don't come any closer. I'd rather not = be seen."=20 Darius' voice became tinged with concern. "Is something wrong? Let me = help you if I can." He stopped midway down the aisle and looked into the = darkness once more.=20 Methos snorted. "It's true! You have changed. I remember a man on a = horse charging down a army of thousands with his troops and winning the = day despite the odds against you."=20 "That was a very long time ago, my friend, a time that I have left long = ago behind me," Darius quietly replied. He sat the candelabra down then = slowly lowered himself onto one of the chairs and sighed. "A very long = time ago..."=20 __________________________________________________=20 378 CE Adrianople, Italy=20 The dust rolled in great clouds as the armies crashed and sawed at one = another as both Visigoths and Roman armies tried to get the upper hand = against one another. Screams of men intermingled with the screams of = horses that were systematically gutted when the calvary tried to ride = through the Roman ranks.=20 The ground was littered in broken bodies, gore and blood that soaked the = ground making it slick and hard to maneuver in. Each line wavered in = ebbs and tides yet both still were able to hold their positions despite = the odds against them being able to do so.=20 High on a hill on horseback sat a man watching the battle. His long, = black locks blew about in the wind and framed his angular face while his = eyes narrowed as he saw the Visigoths' calvery gather strength once = more. "By all the gods above!" he swore and turned about in search of a = runner to deliver his battle maneuvers to turn the tide of their = calvary.=20 Spying a man who he knew to be swift, he summoned him to his side. = "Praetorian! Here, take this to the generals quickly." He folded up a = piece of sheepskin on which he had scurried a quick note in Latin on it. = He pointed a finger at the soldier. "Everyone, do you understand?" The = soldier nodded and ran for all he was worth towards the battlefield.=20 Methos watched him go, re-checked the positions of the armies again and = became alarmed as he realized that the Romans were about to become = overrun by the Visigoths' calvery. As he watched, a great cry was heard = from the opponents' side and the Roman shield wall collapsed. The = Visigoths' calvery poured through the opening like water breaking = through an aqueduct and before he could blink they began to make their = way through the entire Roman ranks.=20 Once the calvery had breached the shield wall, their foot soldiers = followed as each side tried to regain ground or keep the ground they had = just fought and won moments before.=20 Methos wheeled his horse about abruptly, realizing that it was soon to = be a lost cause for the Romans and that whoever had planned this attack = was a brilliant tactician as well as great leader. One side of his mouth = quirked up in an ironic half smile. "A man after my own heart," he = thought to himself. He swung down from the horse, recovered a fresh one, = and swung upon his back. Turning towards the battle, he rode towards the = fray to deliver the instructions himself as to how to stop the onslaught = of his opponents.=20 Pulling his sword the closer he came to the battle, he began to hack and = slash at whoever came anywhere near him not caring if it was friend or = foe. It was hard to distinguish which side was which anyway; one man = fighting or dying looked the same as another. Neither side wore anything = that distinguished them as being Visigoth or Roman except perhaps in = their weapons; in the rush and heat of battle, who had time to look? One = concentrated on surviving and that was all one did.=20 The sunlight was hot and the glinting on all the iron swords and metal = on the shields made him near blind and the roar of over 30,000 men as = well as the 5,000 strong calvary was deafening. He took a look about to = get his bearings; he never saw the blade that came at him from behind = which struck at his spine.=20 Fortunately, it hit the large knife he had carried there in habit for = centuries, slipping away and upwards while it still made it's mark on = him as it shaved off both muscle and tissue before it skittered off his = shoulder blade.=20 Gasping in shock and pain, his arm reached behind him to feel what was = or was not there. He was losing a lot of blood and knew it; he also knew = that he would bleed to death shortly if he didn't do something fast like = heal but there wasn't a way to induce the healing to happen faster than = it normally did that he knew of.=20 The world began to spin around as his eyes blurred; he fell off his = horse with a heavy thud. A sensation tingled through him sending a = warning that somewhere another Immortal was close at hand. His breathing = became more labored and he attempted to get to his feet but again he = couldn't get his body to coordinate with his thoughts. Blearily, he = looked up as a shadow blocked the sun from his eyes.=20 A tall man with flowing blonde hair stood over him, his body a mass of = cat-like grace and agile swiftness. He wore a shift of cotton the color = of doves but also stained with the blood and gore of many. In his hands = he held a sword unlike any that Methos had seen before and as he = watched, a cold smile came to the man's lips.=20 Methos held his hand up and tried once more to get to his feet but it = was to no avail. "Who are you?" he rasped as he began to feel his body = grow cold with the grip of death.=20 "I am Greyson," the man answered coldly yet arrogantly. "And you're = mine!"=20