Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh (I am that I am) 32.0/34 Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx Vi Moreau vmoreau@directvinternet.com Cabin in the Pampa on the Duran Estancia, near Las Flores, Argentina March 30, 2013 The blackness seemed to swim, then it began taking on form, taking on shapes. Corazon Negro organized the shapes, pushed the blackness into patterns, then searched for the light. "Can you hear me, my love?" a familiar voice said. So he moved that way, organizing, shaping as he went. "My love?" the voice said again. He followed. And after what seemed like a short time, in a place where time didn't seem relevant at all, Corazon Negro saw a dot of light in the far distance. "Hear me," the voice said. "Come back with me." The light grew as Corazon Negro focused on it, until finally it surrounded him, flooding into his mind, his conscious thoughts. So he opened his eyes. "Welcome back," Elena said, smiling down at him. Corazon Negro let himself a smile. He felt surprisingly refreshed, almost as if waking from a long nap. "I was worried about you," Elena whispered. "Never more, my love. Never more," he answered, taking her hand and squeezing it. Then he remembered what had been going after their battle against Lilitu inside the Dream. "Is she...?" "Dead," Elena finished, smiling. "The Ancient Gathering is here. But . the price was high." She stepped aside and looked over her shoulder. Corazon Negro looked around. They were inside the little cabin, and he could see Zarach on the sofa across the living room, totally inert. The others were all around him, their faces sad. Methos, sitting next to Zarach, holding his father's hand, explained in four short words: "He is not healing." Corazon Negro nodded, and then took a deep breath. "I think I have some catching up to do." "And resting," Elena said. "That, I've been doing," Corazon Negro whispered. "I think I have enough energy for a story before my next nap." Elena laughed softly, wistfully, and pulled up a chair. But it wasn't her who told him the tale; that came from Methos, Heru-sa-aset and Myrddin at first, and finally from Aylon, who had been in the cave with Zarach, in the maw of the monster. "After that, I don't know what Zarach did," Aylon finished. "Except that he killed her-he defeated her. And now." Corazon Negro knew it all, and he was prouder of being part of the Ancient Gathering than he ever could have imagined being. But as he looked at Zarach, he thought, oh yes, the price was very high. Extremely high, indeed. ======== A WORLD WITHOUT END "And there shall be no night there, and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever." Revelations 22:5 The Revelation of John Duran Estancia, near Las Flores, Argentina April 20, 2013 Once the others arrived safely with the news that Lilitu was well and truly dead, Connor MacLeod called Australia and New York, then left at once to meet up with his family. The rest of the Immortals spent three weeks in Elena's estancia-hoping, praying, waiting for Zarach to recover-surrounded by the wide-open southern landscape. They'd told their stories to one another, and their narratives filled the air like so many songs from the past. But even as they tried to calm their souls, they knew one by one they should soon move away. In the estancia, the Onioco family was more than happy to welcome them. Elena's relationship with the Mapuche Indio family called Onioco went back to the time her father, Don Alvaro, had made a pact of mutual help and protection before Elena was born. Long summer days passed, and Zarach showed no sign of progress. "What about our marriage?" Corazon Negro asked Elena. "Now that Lilitu is dead ." "Her after-effects are still with us," she answered, shaking her head. "Look at Zarach." She could remember when Corazon Negro had lain in that very bed in her bedroom, catatonic, like Zarach was now. Maybe all he needed was time. "I was hoping he'd be the one to give the bride away," she whispered, almost to herself. Corazon Negro took her hand and kissed it. "Whatever you decide, mi vida. But there is another man to consider." They were sitting outside, drinks in hand, watching the water from the marble angel pour into the courtyard fountain of the estancia, exactly as it had for centuries. Now, with this evil taken care of, at last there was a chance the estancia would continue for more centuries. "There's always another man to consider where Elena is concerned," Methos said from where he had come up behind them, totally unheard. Elena turned in her seat and gave him a mock dirty look. Although she knew Methos cared for her, and was actually going to be Corazon Negro's best man, the old man could still zing her when he wanted to. Studying his face, she decided he was just teasing her. "I mean my husband," she said, deciding to trust him. "Husband?" Methos countered, obviously intrigued. He sat in one of the chairs, a glass of tawny port in his hand, and looked up at the moon before settling down to give the couple his full attention. "I was married in 1863. Duncan knows about him. And so do you - from reading my Watcher record. I thought Gordon had been killed by Hunters, but he was alive as of 1985," she explained. Alive enough to help her find and get a catatonic Corazon Negro out of Mexico right after Lilitu's killing on Holy Ground had caused a devastating earthquake. Methos shrugged. "Call him," he suggested. "I have," she countered, surprising Corazon Negro as well. "He'd like our marriage annulled before I marry someone else. And he'd like to be at our wedding, querido," she said to the Aztec. "He arrives tomorrow." "So . the wedding is on?" Methos asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Elena knew Methos cared a lot for Duncan MacLeod, and it was a well-known fact that the younger Highlander still loved Elena. "Duncan has agreed also," Elena stated. "Did he have a choice?" Methos countered. "Let us not argue," Corazon Negro put in. "As long as the Ancient Gathering is here, we might as well marry. I'm sure Zarach would agree, too." "Saturday," she said, standing. "I'll get the arrangements started--you let everyone know," she told her beloved. ======== As the estancia was getting ready for the Senorita's wedding, it was quietly decided that Myrddin would be the one to take Zarach away. No one knew where, though the Mage had promised to inform them as soon as Zarach was protected. After all, Holy Ground was a better place now that Lilitu was finally dead. Even Methos didn't know, though he'd promised to meet the Druid in England as soon as he was finished in Argentina. All of them had made the promise of never to be isolated from another one so much; from now on, they had ways to find each other, no matter were they might travel. On that vital point everyone had agreed. Even Methos, the loner, the wanderer, had agreed. Nobody wanted to be lost in time again. And Zarach? Would they see him again? He was still in coma. Would he ever sit with them around a table? Methos had laid eyes upon Zarach many times after that terrible night when he had killed Mother. But the pain had been suffocating, as if his lungs were being dried up. Zarach's body position hadn't changed in several days. He lay as he had had all along, on the bed inside Elena's room. On his side, his hands were slack-the fingers of his left hand touched the sheets lightly, as if with a purpose. The fingers of his right hand were curled, making a little hollow in the palm where the light of the window fell, and that too seemed to have a purpose-but there was none. His face had no expression except for his eyes; two orbs of different colors-the disconcerting blue on the left side, and the brown one on the right-still reflected intelligence as he stared defiantly at infinity. Methos didn't know what Zarach's thoughts were; only that the pain in his own heart seemed unbearable. Finally, when Myrddin suggested that he would take care of Zarach, Methos' pain had been finally loosened, like a moan coming out of him. Methos was glad when Myrddin and Zarach were gone because it meant that they all would be going as well. Methos didn't care. His sojourn there had been agony, though the first few days after the catastrophe had been the worst. How quickly the bruised silence of the others had given way to endless analysis, as they strained to interpret what they'd seen and felt. How had the thing been transferred exactly? Methos couldn't bear to listen to them; he couldn't bear their constant, obsessive curiosity: what was it like with Zarach? What was happening inside his silent mind? Methos couldn't get away from them either; he certainly hadn't the will to leave altogether; Methos trembled when he was with them; trembled when he was apart. How often they had pondered the irony that Zarach had killed Mother in the end. Had any of her survived in Zarach? That was what they kept wondering. They all knew about Dark Quickenings, and several of them had felt them. Had her soul survived, or had it been destroyed at last when her brain was torn loose? Sometimes in the dark Methos awoke certain Lilitu was right there beside him, no more than an inch from his face; he'd feel her again; her arm around him; he'd see the green glimmer of her eye. He'd grope in the darkness and find nothing. How could they know? The only truth was they remained Immortals; they remained frightened; they remained anchored to what they can control. Maybe it would all start again; the wheel would turn; they were forever; because there were no others, although the new Ancient Gathering had triumphed. ========