HA SATAN (THE ADVERSARY): An Elena Duran/Corazon Negro Story 9/12
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@directvinternet.com)
Tue, 17 Sep 2002 13:45:13 -0400
HA SATAN (THE ADVERSARY)
An Elena Duran-Corazon Negro Story 9/12
vmoreau@directvinternet.com & divad72@prodigy.net.mx
Glenfinnan, Scotland
March 26, 2013
Naema shifted awkwardly in the car, trying to get comfortable. The last two
hours had dragged at an inexorably slow pace, the white snowstorm falling
mercilessly on the Highlands around her. On the tracking monitor, her
subject, Methos' truck, was still a half-mile away, stopped.
Naema stooped her car too. She had an idea why he was there. Methos was an
Immortal with great abilities as a survivor, a true warrior in many ways,
and he was helping Zarach. Why Lilitu had wanted to track Methos out here
into the Highland wilderness was Naema's guess. Mother certainly hadn't
bothered to tell her. But Naema suspected why. Zarach was defenseless,
unprotected after Lilitu's attack, and that bastard Methos was trying to
help him.
Naema didn't know a lot about the relationship between Zarach and Methos.
All she had guessed was that they seemed to be old friends, fighting in
different ways for the same cause: the Prize. She had just been told to
trail Methos until something happened. She
would know when it did, Lilitu had said. Naema certainly hoped so.
She glanced around at the raging night falling around the car. She could see
the nearby outline of the highway and the black shapes-covered trees and
rocks. She could stop her feelings if she wanted. But at the moment she didn
't mind it at all. It was soothing, almost relaxing. She had a feeling of
loneliness, she could almost touch it, and at this moment any type of
feelings were good as far as she was concerned.
The Highlands were certainly a far cry from the arid heat of her native
Africa. The first time she'd ever seen snow had been the day she had met
Lilitu, miles away from her birth place, twelve thousand years ago. The day
Mother and Zarach had arrived at Tell Halula. The day Lilitu had come into
the Ancient Gathering.
Being without a teacher the first hundred years of her existence as an
Immortal, Naema had been forced to deal with her life by herself. Even when
she arrived to Tell Halula, no one could give her the answers she needed so
desperately. Only after Lilitu arrived in the city did Naema begin to
understand her powers, because the red-haired woman had turned into the
Mother she never had.
If it hadn't been for Lilitu's teachings, there would be no telling what
mortal men would have done with the Ancient Gathering. Naema certainly had
had no idea what to do with herself at that point. No Immortal did, when
first coming into their powers. There was no way any of them could. It was
something completely unexpected, and in this world that feared Immortals,
certainly none of them had been trained to cope with their condition.
Until she met Lilitu she had been lucky. Mother had found her, and had
offered her the training she had needed. She knew there were hundreds of
others out there who weren't getting the breaks she had received. And
because of that, she was determined to help Lilitu against the others, as
much as she could. Naema owned her.
The distant feeling of a hard multiple Quickening echoed through the glen.
Naema smiled. That was the entire signal she needed. The Headless Children
were attacking the MacLeods. Now it was the time for her to assault Methos
and Zarach.
========
Very slowly, Zarach opened his two-colored eyes. For a long moment, he
couldn't remember who or where he was; but he was sure of one thing. He was
no longer in his house. He was in a truck, and another Immortal was sitting
next to him, driving. The windshield wipers barely cleared the blowing snow,
and he doubted he could see more than a truck's length in front of them,
because the night was falling very fast. Considering that the two-lane road
was tree lined and had sudden curves, the Immortal was driving far too fast.
But at this point, Zarach certainly wasn't going to say anything.
"Well, that went about as well as could be expected," Methos' cheery voice
split the silence inside the truck.
Zarach looked at him. "You don't have to look like the cat that swallowed
the canary, child. You knew very well what was going to happen."
"I had a clue," Methos said with no trace of remorse.
Zarach was more than a little annoyed. "And I suppose for your next trick,
you'll rub salt in old wounds?"
Methos heaved a dramatic sigh, as if he couldn't believe he actually had to
explain himself. "Look, you told me millennia ago that the first step to win
a war was always getting the grievances out on the table. Drag them out into
the light of day, and suddenly they're no longer the monsters we imagine
them to be."
"Lilitu is," Zarach interrupted.
"Yes, well," Methos admitted. "But maybe in my mind I always wanted to
believe there was something rational in her-some way we could discuss things
and come to terms. But the first step was to get her out in the open. And
you did that work pretty well."
Zarach seemed unconvinced "You are insane, child. If you dance with the
devil, the devil doesn't change. It changes you. If that was my clever
scheme, I failed," he said, sagging on the seat. "I'm afraid Mother is far
from rational at the moment."
They sat in silence again for a long moment. The snow had blessedly stopped,
but the night seemed to be coming down even faster, and the sound of the
wind on the windshield marked pace with the time as it passed like the
blurry outlines of the trees.
Finally, Zarach asked. "Where are we going?"
"Connor MacLeod's house. The Highlander. It's not too far away from here, as
you know," Methos answered.
"Why there?" Zarach asked, glancing at Methos.
"Call it a hunch," Methos answered smiling.
Zarach smiled, staring the darkness at the faint outline of the mountain
road. He closed his eyes trying to relax, and then he felt the Immortal's
presence outside.
"Watch out!" Zarach yelled. The next instant the world seemed to end.
At the same time they felt an Immortal there was the crack of an explosion.
Something big toppled in front of them from Methos' side, falling directly
across the road. Methos reacted, standing on the brakes, but he was too
close and he hit the obstruction head on. Zarach was smashed against his
seat belt. His head snapped forward, then backward. Methos, who hadn't
bothered with a seat belt, was tossed hard through the windshield, bouncing
and tumbling down the road like a rag doll.
To Zarach it seemed as if everything in the truck suddenly piled around him,
shoving him forward. He could see Methos' body through the broken-out
windshield. Wind swirled in and around Zarach's face as everything finally
came to a stop.
With exquisite and unlucky timing, they had hit a massive falling tree. The
force of the impact had shoved it forward and to one side. From where Zarach
sat, it was clear that this truck wasn't going to be going anywhere again
anytime soon. The front end was wrapped around the log.
The silence now seemed almost heavy. Zarach sat there, trying to catch his
breath, trying to stop his heart from pounding out of his chest. Believe it
or not, in all his long life, it was the first time he had ever been in an
automobile accident. It had happened so fast.
Then through the darkness, Zarach saw movement. In the road ahead, Methos
climbed to his feet, brushing himself off. "Dammit!" he said.
As Methos got closer, Zarach could see that there were gashes in Methos'
cheek and forehead. Deep, bleeding cuts. Then, the wounds stopped bleeding
and began to heal. Methos didn't even seem to notice.
"You all right?" Methos asked, stopping in front of the truck and staring at
Zarach through the windshield.
"I've been better," Zarach said. "Be careful, is a trap."
"I agree-but where's the Immortal? I don't see anyone, do you?" he asked,
scanning the area.
Before Zarach could answer, Methos began to climb in the truck to help his
mentor get out of it. At that instant Naema's hand punched out of a large
bush by the side of the road. The black warrior's hand grabbed Methos by the
back of his jacket.
"Naema! What are you doing?" Zarach yelled as she rose up, towering over
Methos. She picked him up and swung him around, tossing him into the cliff
side with enough force to break his bones.
Naema stood there, staring at where she had thrown Methos. Zarach had not
seen the black princess since that night many years ago in Alamut. He took
in her beautiful oval face and long hair with ruby lips. But this time she
was wearing animal hides, just as when he had met her thousands of years
before. Her eyes had changed; this time, instead of being human, they seemed
the eyes of a hunter, a predator.
"Traitor!" Zarach roared and tried to open the door as Naema stepped toward
Methos. The seat had been shoved forward and was jammed behind him. His legs
were trapped under the dashboard. The more he fought to get them free, the
more it hurt. He tried shoving the passenger door open, but it too, was
stuck, so he went back to feeling around his legs with his hands, trying to
find anything he could move to get free.
Then behind him, Zarach heard a slight crackling sound. He twisted around,
and he saw fire. She had set fire to the truck.
"Methos! Get up and fight!" Zarach ordered, sending mentally almost the last
of his strength toward his child.
Through the windshield, Zarach could see Methos emerge from the muddy side
of the cliff, clearly angry. With one backhand slap, Naema smashed Methos
into a tree. How strong was she?
Methos came up rolling, his sword extended before him. "Fucking bitch!" he
said slashing at her. Missed. Slashed again. Missed again, as Naema moved
quickly out of the way. She grabbed Methos' wrist and, using his own forward
momentum, picked him up and swung him 360 degrees, smashing him into the
log. The log shattered.
Almost passing out, Zarach fought even harder now. He had to get away from
the fire, and far way from Naema.
Methos was stunned, but he still tried to stagger to his feet. Naema picked
him up like a pillow, held him in the air, then tossed him ten feet back
through the remains of the truck's windshield.
Zarach managed to cover his face and turn slightly in the seat as Methos
smashed into him, unconscious. Behind them the fire spread, smoke pouring
through the truck and up into the air.
"Methos!" Zarach yelled, using the Voice and shaking Methos. "Wake up!" He
shook him harder. "Come on!"
Naema stepped toward the burning truck, an African ritualistic-long spear in
her hand this time. "I've been waiting too long for this," she hissed.
Zarach's two-colored eyes suddenly turned completely black. Strange
blue-tattoos appeared on his cheeks as he smiled. "Rule number one, whore:
never show your enemy your true power."
Naema growled with a low, mean rumble, like an angry animal. She even looked
like one, with the skins and long black hair. She charged at them, moving
quickly on the mud and slush-covered road.
Zarach raised his hand and an energy field hit Naema in the chest. Hard. She
roared as the mental force picked her up and flipped her through the air,
end over end, smashing her against one huge rock.
She hit the rock hard, but even so, she charged again.
Using the last bit of power, Zarach released himself from his truck prison
mentally, wrenching the door away as if it had been kicked. He scrambled
loose and was able to get out, grabbing his two sai, on in each hand,
adopting a fighting position and ignoring the pain in his legs.
In two long strides, Naema was there, and she laid intro Zarach, three quick
slashes to his head. Zarach's weapons were ready to deflect, and then he
twisted out of Naema's reach.
She circled to Zarach's right, tried to thrust in behind his trident-like
blades, but the sai were already there, waiting to block the blow. However,
because of Lilitu's attack last night, Zarach felt the weapons heavy in his
hands.
Zarach spun this time to face Naema and pressed a flurry of attacks that
drove Naema back, then back again as she struggled to defend herself against
the powerhouse blows.
But Zarach was tired; as tired as never before in his entire life. Worse,
Naema knew it. She could see it in his eyes. It was just a matter of time,
and she would win this battle. "Lilitu's attack has weakened you," Naema
cried out, "exactly as she said it would! Everything she has said has come
to pass!"
Zarach said nothing to this, but he hadn't lived this long just to be killed
by a betrayer. He feinted at his opponent's legs, drawing the long spear
down, then came up with an overhead slice at the head. He lured Naema's
spear into a defensive position perpendicular to her body. Quickly, he
slipped into her guard, catching the spear with his sai.
But Naema had been waiting for this maneuver. So, when the two sai had
caught her spear, putting all her strength behind it, she powered her weapon
down and away, dragging the sai out of Zarach's hands.
Naema jumped back quickly and swung before Zarach could raise his weapons
back into proper position to defend. She caught Zarach across his chest, a
wicked slash that flayed the first layer of muscle.
Zarach hissed and spun away, bleeding.
"Now you're mine!" Naema yelled.
Zarach smiled confident. "Really?"
At that moment Methos attacked Naema from behind. She just had time to turn
and parry the killing blow. "Two against one? What about the rules?" she
asked, her eyes shining with fury.
"There are no rules, whore!" Methos yelled in her face. They battled beside
the burning truck, Methos on the attack. Again and again, Naema found
herself forced to retreat to what she hoped was a better position. But then
Zarach joined the fight again.
With a roar and mighty slash of his left sai, Zarach locked blades with
Naema once more and pressed her back against the truck.
But Naema stood her ground; spear ready, waiting for Methos or Zarach to
attack. She was winded, on the defensive, at the edge of the fire, where the
blaze beckoned to expose her escape. But she was not going to take the
coward's way out-right now, it was pointless-one way or another, she was
going to finish this.
Grimly, both came at her, to the head, to the gut, to the shoulder. Even
Naema's quickness was not enough, and she took a painful slice from Methos
across the ribcage. She screamed and tried to dart away, but Zarach was
right on her.
As Zarach swung again, Naema ducked assuming a crouching position and came
up again. But then she felt the unmistakable pain of Methos blade entering
her abdomen. Zarach pulled her feet from under her with a sweep of his leg.
"Zarach!" Naema gasped, and the plea in her voice made Zarach stay his hand.
Naema held him with her eyes for a moment. "We were brothers, remember?
Lilitu made me attack you, Zarach, please, save me!"
"Fuck, no! No this time!" Methos yelled, raising his sword.
Zarach could feel the tears rise up in his throat. "Good bye, sister," he
whispered.
The edge of Methos' sword sliced cleanly.
Naema's body fell on the ground, and a moment later, both sai followed, as
if Zarach could no longer bear to hold the weapons that had attacked his
former sister. The wind caused currents of fog to dance around their spot.
The shattered vessel that was Naema gave up its Quickening like wisps of
smoke which curled into the air, intertwining with the dancing fog. Behind
them, they heard the truck explode, sending flames and debris into the air,
lighting the night bright orange and yellow colors.
The wave sent Zarach and Methos into the air. Suddenly, the atmosphere
became a gale, a dancing frenzy, as the Quickening writhed in the whirlwind,
then sought shelter into Zarach and Methos.
Its touch was the touch of liquid fire that seeped through their pores and
overwhelmed their souls, stripping away all that they were, all that they
would be, and leaving in their places an acute, never-ending loneliness that
filled them up until they could hold no more as they dropped on the ground.
They collapsed, uttering deep moans, torn from the very fiber of their
beings.
Shafts of green lightning exploded from Naema's body, shattering the trees,
scarring the ground with their intensity before snaring Zarach and Methos in
their web. Power shot through them unrestrained, and their moans became
screams as cosmic fire sparked their nerves, their cells, and their very
atoms.
Through his pain, through the loneliness and the despair that held him
prisoner, Zarach reached into the maelstrom within his essence and grasped
the memories churning there, desperate for identity. Lighting pierced the
physical form once called Zarach Bal-Tagh, sending him back. But he was
Naema, the foundling and raped child from a forgotten village. Then he was
with Lilitu, who smiled in triumph.
Tongues of fire shot from the truck with a hiss quenched in the air as
Zarach was assailed by the smell of burning wood and flesh around him.
Zarach thought he heard Methos roaring, a wild howl filled with anguish and
sorrow, and it reached for heaven as if it could almost touch it. Almost,
but not quite.
Suddenly, the lightning ceased and it became peaceful. The fog descended and
set in the surroundings on a gentle breeze like a visiting cloud passing
through. The fabric of space and time undisturbed. They were once again
Kadosh, the one known as Methos, and Zarach Bal-Tagh, the Son of the Endless
Night.
And they were the victors.
But there was no joy for Zarach in this victory. He collapsed once more when
he tried to stand, a puppet with no strings, exhausted. A lonely soul once
more. But this time, his pain was for the tormented soul of Naema, one of
the last vestiges of once a proud race, one of the original members of the
Ancient Gathering. Another former friend, a sister in many ways, now dead
forever, because of Lilitu, by his own hand.
========