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Chapter One
A typical day in Deep Shadow. Suddenly, a figure cloaked in
black
materialized in a small clearing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Party Planet, here I come!" Methos said with great relish. As he
opened his brown eyes, however, his excitement rapidly diminished.
"Hellfire,
this doesn't look like Ursa Minor Beta! Why does this always happen to
me?" Methos murmured.
He quickly knelt and removed a spellbook from a large leather
pouch.
Although worn, the spellbook was ornately decorated, with his name
embossed on the cover.
"Hmm..." Methos flipped through his book. "Ah, here it is --
'teleport'. What did I do wrong? Probably the fact that I improvised a
few of the material components -- but there isn't THAT much of a
difference between bat guano and a cow pie, is there?" Methos sighed,
shut the book, and replaced it in his pouch.
"That means I could be anywhere." The normally unfazeable Methos
shivered. "Well, the sooner I find out where I am, the better my chances
of surviving." He stood up, and drew his weapons. In his right hand, he
held a rune-carved ebony longsword. The blade was surrounded with a
bright green flame. In his left hand, he held a throwing dagger, with an
enchanted black opal as a pommel.
"Here goes nothing. Let's go...." Methos paused, "this way."
Methos
pointed in a totally random direction and, weapons ready, started
walking.
"I like traffic lights, I like traffic lights, I like traffic lights, no
matter where they've been. I like traffic lights, I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights, but only when they're green." Methos sang
tunelessly as he walked.
"Is there any end to this thrice-damned forest? I haven't even
seen a
single animal! This is futile!" Methos angrily sheathed his blades.
Suddenly, a rather large Someone stepped in front of Methos. In
fact,
rather large is an understatement. He was HUGE, and looked as if he
could snap Methos like a greasy chicken bone.
"Umm...hello?" gulped Methos.
The Big Someone smiled. "Hi. Now turn around and go THAT way." He
pointed in the direction Methos had come from.
"Pardon me, but why?" Methos questioned. "What gives you the
right to
push me around?" Methos poked him in the chest. Well, in actuality, he
poked him in the stomach, because he wasn't tall enough to reach his
chest.
Oops. Bad move. Some day I will have to learn to control these
silly
suicidal urges, thought Methos. The Big Someone scowled.
"I'm twice your size, O Scrawny One. Move it."
"Actually, I'd say you're about 6 times my size. And I would
suggest
that you move out of MY way!"
Crrraaaaaacck! The Big Someone cracked his knuckles and grinned.
Methos
managed a feeble grin and the thought, at least he's unarmed,
before he was body-slammed into an 800-year-old tree.
"You hit pretty hard! I felt that through my mithril chainmail!"
Methos said in shock. "I must warn you, I am a mage! A... um... REALLY
POWERFUL mage, yea! I will now prepare my most powerful spell! More
powerful than a Fireball, more devastating than a Ball Lightning!"
The big cretin gazed dubiously at the yellow energy crackling
from
Methos' fingertips.
"I'm warning you! Prepare to taste the wrath of my," Methos
paused for
dramatic effect, "CHEESEBALL (tm)!"
An everyday cheeseball, covered in crushed nuts, appeared and
dropped
into Methos' hand. With a deft gesture, he flung it at the Big Someone.
"Woo Hoo!" Methos shouted, "Direct hit!"
But the Big Someone didn't even flinch. He just took it in the
face.
"Whoops. Hee hee. Did I not throw it hard eno--erkh!"
Methos' speculations on the failure of his spell were interrupted
by a
huge fist smashing him in the face. It was followed by two in the gut,
in rapid succession. Methos crumpled, badly wounded.
Damn fool, you had to show off, you should have used the
sword,
Methos thought as he lay on the ground, barely able to see. I swear
I heard ribs crack when he hit me.
Through the pain, Methos reached for his elven dagger with his
left
hand. Crrunch! Methos screamed as his pain increased tenfold. He could
see The Big Someone crushing his hand with his shoe. As more fingers
snapped, he could barely see through his haze of pain. Suddenly, a
beautiful lady walked into his vision, and Methos smiled before it all
left him.
Livonya arrived just in time to see Methos smile faintly and then
pass
out.
"What in the nine Hells are you doing, Max? Why do you just beat
on
everyone who--" Her words were cut off by a sharp intake of breath as
she looks more closely at the man collapsed on the forest floor.
"He....he looks just like......"
Her words were cut off by her immediate realization of the
devastation
her so-called "Champion" had caused. Taking charge, Livonya commanded,
"Max, carry him to my tree house so I can heal him."
"But Livonya, the scrawny wretch--" Max pleaded.
"Shut up and help, he's hurt!" Livonya snapped, interrupting him.
Max scooped up the badly wounded Methos with barely any effort at
all.
Livonya stormed off to her treehouse at such speed that Max had to work
to keep up with her. She silenced Max's mumbled protests with a simple
glance, full of pain and memories. One name kept running through her
thoughts -
Elrohir.
Chapter Two
Livonya directed Max to place the stranger in the spare bedroom.
He complied, after being told rather forcefully what would happen to
him if he didn't cooperate. She bid Max leave, and then sat on the
edge of the bed to survey the stranger's injuries.
On the surface, he looked to be in extremely bad shape. His left
hand
was mangled nearly beyond repair, his nose was broken, and the right
side of his face was beginning to swell. Any former resemblance he had
to Elrohir was nearly gone now. Livonya sighed, and thought, "Max,
you're a great defender, but you really are a bastard sometimes." She
placed her right hand on his chest to discover if he had any major
internal injuries. Other than quite a few broken ribs, he seemed mostly
okay.
Livonya cast a simple Heal spell, feeling the bones knit together
and
mend themselves. She then caressed his face, repairing his nose and
reducing the swelling there. His left hand, however, proved to be quite
a bit harder. She managed to fix the major bones, but was unable to
complete the spell because Max chose that moment to walk in the door.
"Liv?" he said softly, but not softly enough to avoid startling
her and
causing her to lose her concentration.
"What is it, Max? I'm a bit busy here!" she snapped, a litte
angry at
being jolted out of her trance.
"Sorry....but, there's some stuff here that you should probably
look
at....." he mentioned, his words trailing off in favor of a
hurt-puppydog look at Livonya's crankiness.
"Max, I'm sorry, but I was in the middle of a spell! Have some
consideration and knock first, all right?" she said, casting one look at
the prone Methos, still unconscious.
"It won't happen again," he assured her. She gave him an, "I
know
better than that," smile, and pushed past him on her way to the kitchen.
Livonya poured herself a cup of tea from the kettle boiling on
the
fire, and sat down in her favorite chair. Max handed her a large
leather pouch. She opened it, and withdrew a book. It was titled,
"Studies in Temporal Mechanics." She opened it, and leafed through the
pages half-heartedly. There were no clues about what had brought
Elrohir back to Deep Shadow; in fact, the book mentioned nothing of
Elrohir at all.
Max looked at her curiously.
"What does it say?" he asked.
"Studies in Temporal Mechanics. Here, see for yourself," she
said,
tossing him the book. He managed to catch it, and flipped through the
pages quickly. Livonya smiled; Max had little tolerance for reading of
any sort.
"And why would Elrohir have a book like this?" Max questioned,
obviously puzzled.
"I don't know," she said, as Max set the book aside on a table.
She
took a sip of the tea, and noticed Max had the same puzzled expression
on his face.
"You remember Elrohir." More of a statement than a question.
"Of course!" Max exclaimed, feeling a bit insulted. "But, why is
he
back? I thought he died!"
Livonya sighed. "So did I, Max..... so did I. I've been
thinking
about his return all day. I can tell you about it....but this'll take a
while." At these words, he wriggled into a more comfortable position on
the huge couch.
"Last summer, when I met Elrohir, I was amazed. He was so much
like me
that it scared me at first. Eventually, I began to get to know him
better. It was an arduous process, filled with private talks and
late-night conversations about everything and nothing all at once." She
smiled at the memory.
Max nodded in agreement, secretly thinking about his plans for
the next
day.
"Then the Third Atog War came. He and I, along with our comrade
in
arms, Coag, were banished to another plane. Powerless to help BD, we
could only watch as Jake, Elrohir's malevolent side, ran rampant through
the world. Eventually, Elrohir managed to leave the interdimensional
Limbo we had been stuck in. However, he left me and Coag
behind......while he went to face his destiny."
Max closed his eyes, listening not to the words, but to the
soothing
sounds of Livonya's voice.
"I found my way out of the prison in which I was held, but I was
separated from Coag at the time. I wonder what's become of him......."
Max, through his drowsiness, could see a faint smile flicker over her
face. "But then I receieved the news from one of Dug's messengers. The
news that Jake had died.....taking Elrohir with him." She bit her lip
to hold back the tears threatening her composure. "And now...."
"Now I see that, in this world, life and death are one. There is
no
heaven, no hell..... and no way to escape. Once this place has a hold
on you, it is impossible to leave. You may leave, but you will always
return. Such is it with Elrohir....his personality may die, but he
will always be here in some sense."
"Am I real? Are you real? Are any of us real? Do we truly
exist
here, or is this another incarnation of our selves? We can give names,
supposedly substantiated versions of our being. Here, we can be
anything we ever wanted to be. Age, race, gender, nothing matters
except the base concepts of who we are and what we have become."
Livonya glanced over to the couch, seeing Max fast asleep and
snoring
loudly. Poor guy, she thought. Philosophy always puts him to
sleep. I'll go check on Elrohir.
She left her tea, now cold, beside the odd book, and left the
living
room, still pondering the seemingly incoherent speech she had just made.
To be continued...