BACK TO AVALON

'Oh, ancient Isle of Avalon, the minstrel's song grows dim; oh, ancient Isle of Avalon, I long for him ...' ['Back to Avalon', Loose Goose]

'Come to me in your love and your dreadfulness ... ye warriors who sleep by rusted swords that once did bell, "This country is our own!" ...' [Poul Anderson]

This story is set after 'Highlander: Endgame'. Greg Widen and Davis-Panzer gave us the films and the shows; Adrian Paul gave us Duncan MacLeod (hey, bro' - big hug from a misplaced sister!), Peter Wingfield gave us Methos (sh'mae!), Jim Byrnes gave us Joe Dawson (thanks for the blues). Kevin 'Ares' Smith (yew bewdie, eh) inspired me to give him an Immortal alter-ego who was a hero for once! The OFC Immortal Myfanwy Llewelyn has her own story, which will be posted here soon. King Arthur is modelled on the one who lives locally. Yes, he's real!!

This one's dedicated to Kevin Smith. You ARE Immortal. With love and gratitude. Feb 2002.

Duncan shouldered his pack for the umpteenth time that day. He sighed and stopped to look over the bridge, his eyes unfocussed on the present - Paris decked in all her beauty for Spring. His inner vision was full of Connor's death and the events surrounding it. Bitter experience with Ahriman and the Dark Quickening in the past made him fairly sure things had only begun to heat up. Maybe the Gathering was coming. Everything was shifting around him, that was certain. Nick Woolf had vanished into thin air since becoming Immortal. Duncan knew the Watchers were out looking for him, but it was still a concern in his mind. Amanda had got married - Duncan was as certain as he could be that she did it on the rebound from Nick, but he knew he'd never get the truth out of Amanda about it. The only stable points in his life were Joe, who he knew he could rely on, and Methos, who was about as easy to nail down as jelly. Everything Duncan possessed, apart from certain bank accounts and the contents of a vault in Switzerland, he carried. The dojo was sold and Methos and Maurice had the strangest 'odd couple' shared arrangement on and around the barge. It seemed to work for them, though. Duncan's lips twitched. If the old guy could drop by his place at any time for a beer, why not see if turnabout worked?

He began walking down the steps to the barge, moored in its old spot on the quai de la Tournelle. He climbed up the ramp one more time. A boat-load of tourists went past, cameras snapping. Duncan hoped Methos kept the blinds drawn on that side of the barge. He remembered once, in the early days of ownership coming out of the shower naked, on auto-pilot, and giving some unsuspecting tourists a peep show - at least until he'd snatched the blinds shut.

"Hi honey, I'm home!" He stayed on the alert slightly, just incase.
"Hey you! S'okay Mac - only me home and I'm not feeling up to a fight today."
"When are you ever?" Duncan muttered, then remembered a couple of times that Methos had saved his ass, "Hey, Methos. Long time no see." He settled himself on the couch opposite the enigmatic Immortal.
"So, how's it been?" Methos oozed nonchalance, but Duncan knew he was eager for some gossip.
"You know ... same old; same old."
"Have a beer?"
Duncan fought a smile and half lost, "You owe me a few!"
Methos popped a bottle and passed it over, snagging one for himself in the process, "I miss him too." It was the nearest Methos would probably get to alluding to Connor.
Duncan sighed, "Yeah, well ... He was certain that it was his time to go. He made me finish the unstoppable blow. I ... um ... I 'm dealing with it in my own way."
"I know. What brings you to Paris?"
"I want to check up on Joe, then ..." Duncan shrugged, "Who knows? There's something in the air."

Methos sprawled further into his own couch, long limbs artfully relaxed, "Joe did say something about a letter for you from England. You went there ... dealt with some bad-ass Immortal bitch and whacked her. Not your usual style."
Duncan's brows furrowed, "She was different. The Black Widow. Liked seducing Immortal men and ..." he gestured across his neck, "Right at the most inconvenient moment. Plus, it was kinda personal."
"Ah," Methos replied, making the sound speak volumes, "That would do it for you."
A rare smile lit up Duncan's face, "The after-math was good, though. Met King Arthur - he's one of us ..."
"I know."
Duncan's brows flicked, "Should have guessed; Mr 'Been-there-done-that-got-the-teeshirt'! Anyway, he knighted me on the top of Glastonbury Tor. That was very special."
"Yeah, well ... I think the letter was from him - King Arthur. I'm sure Joe will tell you."

Joe was just finishing his first set of the evening when Duncan walked into the cafe. Duncan strolled over to the bar and waited for the chords to die and Joe to come on over to dispense the customary free first shot of whisky from a bottle that was kept just for him. A classic bottle of best Laphroaig - through the years it had been Glenmorangie and Isle of Jura on occasion, but always single malt. Duncan despised blends with a passion. Joe thought sometimes that it was a shame that Duncan couldn't appreciate Jim Beam, but kept his counsel.

Joe nodded at the Immortal who had become a friend, in spite of everything, "Good to see you again, Mac. Are you in town long?"
Duncan swirled his glass, "Maybe. Methos says you have a letter for me."
"Yeah. I kept it for you. I just hope it wasn't too urgent. It came a week ago." Joe passed over the envelope, which had a red seal on the back, bearing the image of a cup, a bear and a dragon. It also had a Bath postmark.
Duncan's eyebrows rose, "The old guy was right. It's from King Arthur." He went over to a nearby table, slit open the seal and began to read the letter.

Sir Duncan - for I may address you as such now,

I am hoping you may be willing to help me. Since Connor passed, one of the nastier Immortals has come to Glastonbury. He is called Kris Langley. So far he is lying low and doing nothing. However, one of my newest knights, Sir Samuel, was sitting near Kris in a bar when he was rather drunk. He began to boast that it was permitted to duel on holy ground now - given what has been heard over the grape-vine. Apparently he is entertaining the idea of duelling someone to the death on the Tor. Kris seems not to care whether this has consequences or not. I can only speak of the last time - just before a terrible Waste that wounded the land for years. An Immortal - actually, the first Merlin - was killed on the Tor. Not only did we get harsh conditions that lasted ten years, but the Tor opened and the Wild Hunt - and others - came out. They were elemental, untameable, unstoppable (well, almost). I lost several good knights and my new Merlin was driven to the limits of his powers to contain them. You have battled demons without and within, as I have heard. Perhaps even you are not prepared for such, but my hope is that you will answer my call and help us if you can. I am asking as many good Immortals as I know to help at this time.

By the power of Excalibur and the Grail, King Arthur Uther Pendragon, the Once and Future King.

Duncan remembered the last time. He and Joe had travelled to Glastonbury one June via a long flight and Bristol airport. Joe had a lady friend from way back in the hippy days living in Glastonbury and she had put them up in her B&B. They'd gone to the local pop festival early. The Immortal they were after had seduced her Watcher and he had become nearly as evil as she was, so it was personal for Joe too. He had something of an aversion to bad Watchers after that terrible business with his own brother-in-law. The Immortal Karen Dubois and Watcher together were running a fake spiritual cult which involved quite a lot of ritual sex, the extracting of large amounts of money and the beheading of a series of male Immortals. Duncan remembered that her gift of voice had been more powerful than Cassandra's. Seductive, tempting, almost irresistible. He shivered reflexively. She'd been well-endowed physically too; all lush curves and waves of red hair. It had taken quite a lot of iron resolve to resist her allure and do what he had to do. Afterwards, Joe had somehow 'arranged' for him to meet King Arthur on the Tor. Duncan had been stunned to find that one of his childhood legendary heroes was real and Immortal, although he knew nothing should surprise him any more. Arthur had knighted him on the Tor as a thank-you for getting rid of Karen, and invited him to be a member of the new round table when the time was right. If Arthur was rounding up a number of Immortals in Glastonbury, it could be sooner rather than later. Maybe now the old prophecy of the once and future king would be realised. Duncan smiled slowly. He knew that this was one call he could not resist.

In the end, it was Duncan alone who went to Glastonbury a couple of days later. Joe had sent a secret message to the Watcher base in Bristol and they already had a number of operatives keeping an eye on happenings in the Glastonbury area. It wasn't that Joe didn't want to go - indeed he had plans to hop across the Channel after Duncan if time permitted, but things were busy in the bar and he couldn't leave when they were so short staffed. Methos had declared himself to be too busy and disinterested, but Duncan wasn't a canny Scot for nothing. He knew the old guy had a reason for not helping Arthur, he just wasn't talking about it. It could be Methos just protecting that 5,000 year old head, but Duncan's private hunch told him there was more to it than that.

Duncan found himself comfortable lodging in the old 'George & Pilgrim' hotel in the High Street in Glastonbury . It had once been used by pilgrims to the ruined Abbey nearby, so he hoped it might just pass as holy ground. It was a tricky and potentially dangerous scenario being woken by another Immortal out for blood and having to fight whilst sleepy or naked, or both. He left the hire car in the small, open back yard of the hotel and took a tour of the nearby Abbey ruins whilst he was waiting. He realised that he'd never have seen it in one piece, even if he'd visited as a child. Henry VIII had done his worst to it by then. He said a prayer for the monks who'd died in the little chapel dedicated to St Patrick. In the Abbott's kitchen, a local actor was dressed as a monk of the last period of the Abbey's history and described a style of life that took Duncan back to his boyhood days in the Glens. True, he hadn't seen monks often, but the Latin responses the actor used came back to him easily, as did the names for the ecclesiastical times of day. A guide was outside showing some American tourists the original site of 'Arthur's' tomb, and the location of the later black marble monolith near the high altar. Some asked about the Grail and were told the legend that Joseph of Arimathea had buried it under Chalice Hill.

Duncan wondered if the Grail really was around somewhere and whether King Arthur might know of its whereabouts. If it had half the properties people attributed to it, it could be as significant as the Methusela stone. He remembered the Nazis had once planned to use the Grail for evil arcane purposes and shivered slightly. Duncan took the time to wander up to the two springs at the base of the Tor. He drank deeply from both the white and red springs. After that, he walked back into town and had a good helping of Italian cuisine at the place he and Joe had been to the previous time. Then, he went down St Benedict's street to the King Arthur pub on the left. At the rear and on the right was a small room slightly cut off from the rest of the bar. There he found Arthur and two others. Arthur was facing him. Duncan wondered how a man of around forty physically with long salt-and-pepper hair and beard, barrel-chested and fairly tall could still radiate a regal air and cultivate respect even in a tee shirt and jeans. The other male had his back turned to Duncan at first. Duncan smiled warmly at the female Immortal. She was tall, slim and memorably attractive with long, medium brown hair and blue eyes.

"Myfanwy?" He knew her from a long time ago. A good friend and swordmaiden.
She smiled back, "Sh'mae Duncan, cariad! Good to see you again."
Arthur chuckled, "Myfanwy's filled me in on your friendship."
Myfanwy chuckled back, "Just the edited highlights, cariad!" There had never been anything else but friendship between them. Somehow the time had never been right, plus Myfanwy tended to treat Duncan as a well-loved younger brother, her being five years older physically and in time.
Duncan smiled wryly and turned to the male Immortal, who looked round. Duncan blinked, as did the other man. The resemblance between them was quite strong - although the other had jet black hair with grey sprinkles at the temples, a small beard, a wider and readier smile and a differently shaped nose.
King Arthur gestured, "This is the Sir Samuel I told you about."
"Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod." He extended his broad hand. The other man's hand was equally broad. They shook hands.
"G'day, mate!"
Duncan chuckled, "Not Scottish, then!"
"No worries - I'm a Kiwi. Samuel Just."
Duncan's eyebrows rose, "Long way from home."
Samuel grinned, "Well, I'd dealt with all the bad Immortals I could find down under, so here I am, eh."

Duncan went and bought a pint of beer and sat down opposite the others, so that the four Immortals formed a ring around the table. As Myfanwy told about her more recent exploits, Duncan made a surreptitious study of Samuel. True, their colouring was very similar - although Duncan knew he was the kind of Dark Scot who could pass as one of Latin blood without any trouble at all. Samuel, on the other hand, had something of the Polynesian about him rather than the Celt. Now Myfanwy was very Celtic. Taller than average, maybe a hint of something that could pass as Dutch ancestryabout her wide shoulders and general build, but that lilting accent couldn't come from anywhere else but Wales. Whoever - or whatever - was responsible for placing or generating Immortals certainly put them into societies where they could blend in easily.

Duncan noticed that Arthur and Samuel had some local beer called 'Withy-cutter' and Myfanwy her customary Guinness.
She looked up at Duncan, "I gather you've been to Glastonbury before - like me."
Duncan nodded, "Once recently and to Somerset for ... certain purposes ... back in 1940."
"I fought for my country too - in the medical unit. I'm a fully trained doctor." Duncan acknowledged Samuel's information.
"I was a nurse in the First War. Terrible business. I'm afraid I saw the second one coming and fled to your part of the world." Myfanwy inclined towards Samuel.
He smiled broadly, "Well, you can't help bad luck!" Duncan thought Samuel was being rather dismissive of his native land until he heard Myfanwy chuckle softly.
"Samuel, I know exactly what you mean and don't go confusing Duncan here!" she turned to her old friend and smiled, "I was married to a Kiwi - and he means the opposite of what he said just then."
Duncan put in his ha'pennyworth, "I'd gathered that by now."
Samuel's grin stretched, if possible, even wider, "Married a Kiwi, eh? Well, blow me down!"
Arthur cleared his throat, "Well, English as she is mangled... Can I suggest we do our best to avoid confusing slang in the circumstances, especially as I'm hoping for Immortals who don't speak English so well?" The other Immortals nodded with alacrity, although Duncan spotted a dangerous twinkle of amusement in Samuel's eyes.

In the end, a couple of days later, there were a dozen Immortals sitting in a circle in a large bender hidden in woods near the outskirts of Glastonbury. The large hemi-spherical construction of poles and tarpaulin covered in moss was remarkably snug and warm. The combined Buzz of all the Immortals was almost overwhelming. Duncan was sure he felt a migraine coming on - even if it wouldn't last long. He couldn't remember a time when so many Immortals had been gathered together in one place. Quite a few present were rubbing their temples. Arthur laid his famous sword down in the centre.

"Thank-you all for being here," he gestured around the circle, "Duncan, Myfanwy, Samuel, Robert and Gina De Valicourt, Cassandra, Corin Hermann, Lilia Bianche, Tom Quan, Esteban of Madrid, Massimo Orlando. Scotland, Wales, New Zealand, France, the Middle East, Germany, Switzerland, China, Spain and Italy. Before we do anything else, I want us all to swear peace with everyone else here. If the Wild Hunt or worse is loosed by Kris Langley taking someone's head on the Tor - and I'm not discounting it being one of us, in the circumstances - we need to be working together. I've chosen you all because you are basically good Immortals. So, swear on Excalibur. No taking one another's heads until this is all over," twelve right hands slowly reached out and placed themselves on the cross-guard of Excalibur. Arthur's hand was on top. He closed his eyes for a moment, "There hasn't been a gathering - if you pardon my using the word - of Immortals like this since the Round Table. Not that there was actually a table as such, but never mind. These days will go down in Immortal and Watcher history. So ... I swear, by the sword and the Immortal spirit within me that I will keep peace with my brothers and sisters here in this place until whatever Kris Langley sets in motion has been stopped and put to rights." The others copied Arthur's words. Arthur looked at them, "I think the only exception is if one of you turns bad with something like a Dark Quickening. The Beings let loose from under the Tor last time were elemental spirits and not Immortal, but it's possible that there might be some you would describe as demons amongst them. If one or more of you gets affected that way, those of us who see it will do our best to confine you until the fight is over, then figure out a way to cure you if possible. We will only take the head of a fellow Immortal in this circle as a last resort, if all else fails. Agreed?" There was a slow nodding of heads after some thought. Arthur's mouth broke into a slow smile, "Okay - who's for a beer? On me."
Samuel grinned, "Well, if you're buying, mate..." A chorus of chuckles accompanied them back to the nearest hostelry.

Some time later, in the pub, Myfanwy turned to Arthur, "So ... are you Welsh, as the early chroniclers say?"
Arthur nodded over his pint, "Yes - and Cornish, and Scottish. I ... reinvented myself over three lifetimes. I was found originally in Cornwall, but my supposed mother Ygraine gave me to Merlin, remember? I grew up with him, Cei and Ector in the Welsh border-lands. I went carousing, chasing wild boar and women with Cei and Geraint. Because I'm a beserker in battle, I was made warrior chieftan and was given the title Arthur from my adopted father's standard and the bear I slew with my bare hands. I married Gwynhwyfar. That's a kind of title too - the name given to the consort of the Bear. After I 'died' the first time, I moved up to Scotland and had some interesting adventures keeping out the early Vikings. Then, when I had to disappear from that, I returned to the West Country and kept down those nasty Angles and Saxons until they became Christian and much nicer. In the end, I married three Gwynhwyfars. Not all at the same time, mind you! So, some of the legends are based on truth, some are most definitely fiction. You've seen for yourself that Excalibur is real."

Duncan leaned over, "What about the scene with Bedivere and the lady in the lake?"
Arthur smiled, "Bedwyr was mortal, bless him. The 'lady in the lake' was Immortal and was widely regarded by the mortals around as one of the Sidhe. Excalibur had to be seen to 'disappear'. The old faithful sword was becoming something close to an object of worship. So I arranged things with Nimue and then there was that last battle in which I was very badly wounded. So Bedwyr did what I could not at that moment."
"And then you disappeared."
Arthur nodded, "I was in immediate danger of being found out by mortals. No mortal could have recovered from the wounds in the guts and chest that I received - probably not even now - and it had happened far too publicly. If I'd stayed around, they'd have made me into a God, more than likely. Or persecuted me. So, I vanished and came here. I've left holy ground surreptitiously from time to time, but the 'stories' of Arthur keep getting re-told and I have been forced to keep a low profile with mortals - and Immortals. This latest threat has put me into a more public role."

Myfanwy nodded, "My first lady teacher said you were Welsh, brenin. She was called Bronwen - lived near Dewi Sant's church around the 1500's."
"Near enough, melys brenhines. From a baby. My Welsh is a bit rusty, mind. I remember Bronwen. One of my lady knights."
Duncan's eyebrows rose, "I thought all the knights were men!"
Arthur laughed, "We had equal opportunities well and truly pegged in Celtic times, my fierce Scottish friend! You are remembering your medieval romances too well. It's only recently - particularly with us Immortals - that women are regarded equally with men. Chivalry is a worthy concept, but I'm sure you've had to deal with bad lady Immortals."
Duncan nodded, "Some - but I still don't like it."
Myfanwy smiled warmly at him and touched his hand, "You're just an old-fashioned boy - that's part of why I like you so much. Just don't be treating me as the 'little woman', okay cariad?!"
Duncan's lips twitched into an amused smile, "I wouldn't dare! I've always thought of you as equal and you know it! Just as long as I can still hold the door for you now and then - maybe buy you flowers if we had that sort of relationship."
Myfanwy's touch grew warmer and firmer on his hand, "That'd be fine, cariad. And let me go out alone to face another Immortal if they came for me."
"Hmm. I might follow at a distance to keep an eye on you."
"Would that work both ways?" Duncan couldn't find an answer to that one, so buried himself in his beer.

Some time later, Arthur drew Myfanwy on one side, "Okay, swordmaiden. How long have you been secretly in love with him?"
She smiled softly, "A long time. More than I'm willing to admit, even to you. I'm happy enough to have him as a friend, brenin. We've had a few kisses here and there, but it's always been a very precious friendship between us," her smile widened, "He has this ... expanded ... appreciation of women and I know I don't share if I'm in love. I don't think either of us has had a really long term live-in type of relationship with another Immortal. We're both perfectionists and dyed-in-the-wool romantics. Then there are the Game and Gathering problems. I know the De Valincourts have made it together for a long time - but what happens when the final days arrive? How do we fight and kill those who have become precious and beloved?"
"So you're not going to even try?"
"I'm thinking about it; but turning good friends into lovers is a ticklish process and it would be nice to know if I stood a chance, romantically speaking."
Arthur nodded and smiled back, "I will make very discreet enquiries. It'd be a good thing to have something positive and fulfilling come out of this Immortals' 'convention'. I'm used to being a go-between. The knight you know as Sir Lancelot took ages with my last Gwynwyfar, even when I released her and gave him permission to take over."

Myfanwy approached Duncan with a refill of beer some time later. Duncan's brows furrowed slightly, "Myfanwy? Thanks for the beer. I know it's none of my business, but what did you say to each other in Welsh earlier? I mean, if you and Arthur are lovers ..."
Myfanwy laughed out loud, "Oh no, cariad! I respect him, but there's nothing romantic going on. I called him 'brenin', which means king. Then he called me a sweet queen, which was very gracious of him."
Duncan gave Myfanwy a long, contemplating look, "I'd have said 'princess' myself."
Myfanwy's answering smile was almost radiant, "That'd work, fy nghariad **. You can call me 'princess' in affection, for the sake of our close friendship."
"Why do you change between 'cariad' and that other ... vun-whatever?"
"It depends where I use it," Myfanwy replied, "Cariad means 'love' which is a general gesture of affection to a friend, just like caraid in Gaelic."
"That's true," Duncan agreed.
"The other means the same - more or less," she lied skillfully, then truthfully, "Welsh mutates initial letters all over the place."
"You should try learning Russian some time!"

Kris Langley hid in the shadows. He knew very well that a number of Immortals had descended on the small market town of Glastonbury. It was just a question of finding the Buzz and then sending them a very clear message that he was onto their game. They needed to know that he wouldn't be stopped. Heck, they'd done him a favour - twelve Immortals, ripe for the picking, any one of whom would be a good candidate for getting themselves shortened by a head on the Tor. And then, if mayhem ensued, he could take a few more in the confusion. If not, Immortals would be flushed out from holy ground all over and there'd be rich pickings for a canny Immortal with access to a computer and the Watcher database. There was a particular vintage Immortal who evidently had no idea that a certain disc had been illicitly copied in Paris. Kris rubbed his hands and made for the rear of the pub, keeping his distance very carefully. One more Buzz shouldn't make a difference, but if one of those inside was particularly sensitive, he might be discovered.

"So, Myfanwy ..." Samuel smiled politely, "You were in New Zealand before the last war, eh?"
She nodded, "Yes, Samuel. I started as a kind of governess, then eventually married my employer after he was widowed. He was mortal and I never told him the truth - his children might have been put at risk. We grew fruit, did some sailing from time to time. He went off to the Second World War and didn't come back," she sighed, "So, I finished raising the children quietly and then ... disappeared. My not ageing would have been noticed if I'd stayed much longer. Lovely country, though. Apart from the volcanoes, a lot like Wales - green hills and sheep!"
"Got a lot more developed since, eh."
Myfanwy chuckled, "I'd noticed. I keep in touch with how the family are doing via a very discreet Watcher. Many Immortals left in your part of the world?"
Samuel shrugged, "A few. Less bad ones, eh! Even some good Aussies amongst them - at least there were once."
"Oh, praise indeed!"
Samuel became serious, "Nah, I mean it. I met an ancient Abo once. I think he might have dated from the actual dream time. He had all the marks of a deep mystic. Taught me heaps. We went walkabout together for years, eh. Made me take his Quickening at the end, when he knew it was his time to move on. Can't even tell you his name, eh; swore an oath to him."
Myfanwy gently laid her hand on his, "I know - at least I understand," she looked up and away from him suddenly, "There's another Immortal about!"
Samuel chuckled, "There are twelve bloody Immortals in this pub!"
Myfanwy shook her head, "No ... there's another. Just on the edges of where I can detect. I can tell all of you apart. This one is darker... I suppose it's Kris!" Samuel put his hand on his sword-hilt automatically, "No, Samuel ... I don't think he'd be silly enough to confront twelve potential opponents. He's up to something else ... something sneaky." She stood up anyway and Samuel rose with her. A few seconds later the publican ran back into the bar and the fire alarm went off. Twelve immortals and the other patrons soon stood in the street, watching the pub go up like matchwood. The publican was stunned, pale and trembling. The fire brigade arrived in fairly short order and got the blaze under control. Eleven figures drifted surreptitiously back to the concealed bender.

King Arthur looked round the rather shaken circle, "Okay, where's Corin?"
Lilia spoke up, "I saw him go around to the rear of the pub, just after we got out." Lilia was Latin in colouring, with very long midnight brown hair and eyes.
Myfanwy nodded, "There was another Immortal out there. Kris, at a guess."
Duncan turned to Myfanwy, "What did you feel, princess?"
Myfanwy shut her eyes, "I felt ... darkness. Something sneaky," She opened her eyes again, "I'm one of the few Immortals who can distinguish between Buzzes. I can tell all of you apart with my eyes closed!"
Duncan smiled with her, "Trust me, she can. I've seen her do it before."
Tom Quan nodded, "I've seen other Immortals with unusual gifts before. I met one who could levitate."
"Handy," Duncan commented.
Tom laughed, "Until he overdid himself and had a nasty encounter with a helicopter."
Myfanwy shuddered, "Messy." Several Immortals nodded and looked a little queasy.
Tom put in the coup de grace, "The Quickening was something else, though!"

Arthur coughed softly and everyone's eyes turned back to him, "Well, Corin could be dead. If we're lucky, which I doubt, Kris could be dead. I'll see whether I can find out," He accessed a mobile phone which hung at his waist and dialled.
"Yes? Yes, we lost Corin - temporarily I hope. No Quickening? And Kris? Uh-huh. Well, thanks, Susan. Bye, now." He cut off the connection, "A friendly Watcher - there are quite a few hanging around Glastonbury very discreetly. I've heard some talk that this ..." he indicated the Immortals in the bender, "Might be the start of the Gathering, but I don't think so. There are lots more live Immortals out there in the world. My Merlin, for one; as far as I know. Anyway, Corin has disappeared and Kris' head is still on his own shoulders."
Duncan raised his head, "Could Corin have been kidnapped by Kris and be held to ransom?"
King Arthur nodded, "It's possible. I don't want any heroics just yet. Unless something significant happens or Kris approaches one of you in the meantime, let's meet here tomorrow at 10.30 a.m.? Be careful, everyone. Use different routes."
Myfanwy put her hand up, "Brenin; it's a full moon tomorrow night, which is significant in many religions, especially locally. If I were Kris - and keeping one eye on destiny - despite the added risk of the moonlight pinpointing me, I'd choose tomorrow for the Tor."
Arthur stroked his beard, "Well, there will be locals likely to be up there celebrating the full moon. It's a risky prospect. More people to notice. But then, Kris has never been known to be a shrinking violet. He does seem to have delusions of grandeur. He might reckon that impressing or frightening a few mortals is a good thing. Okay ... combat and camouflage gear ready for tomorrow night. We can hide in various gardens and copses near the Tor. This must be done very surreptitiously, everyone."

Myfanwy and Samuel walked back to their respective B&B's together, since the houses weren't far apart.
"You really think it might happen tomorrow, eh?"
She nodded, "I could be wrong, but it's highly possible."
Samuel caught hold of her hand, gently, "Wish I could have got to know you better, Myfanwy."
She turned towards him, "Samuel....."
He smiled ruefully, "Yeah, I know; bad timing. Just wanted to say I'm interested. Very interested." He touched her cheek. Myfanwy put her hand up and gently over his.
She smiled softly, "No swords?"
His smile and eyes warmed, "Not between us, eh. I'd be looking for something like the closeness evident between the De Valincourts."
Myfanwy's lips curved upward, "They've been together over 300 years!!"
Samuel grinned, "That'd do for starters! We might die tomorrow. I can't leave you without this..." He kissed her, before he lost his nerve. Myfanwy responded, in spite of what she secretly felt for Duncan. Samuel was a wonderful kisser. Eventually, she gently pulled free.
"Samuel," she said softly, gently, "I wish it was possible between us, but it's not. Not now. We both need to concentrate on whatever might happen tomorrow and afterwards."
"And there's someone else in your heart," Samuel said, intuitively striking right at the seat of the problem, "Well, if he doesn't come through for you, let me know, eh!"
Myfanwy smiled warmly, "You'd be next on the list, Samuel; I promise."

The Welsh lady Immortal sighed to herself as she settled into bed, "Duncan; beloved, fy nghariad. You'd better get a move on and say yes, or I'll be going Down Under again. It wouldn't be so difficult to fall in love with Samuel. Strange that ... in spite the fact that I've loved you for so long, I can still fall in love with other men. It's just not the deep soulmate kind of love I think we could have together. Goodnight, my sweet Scotsman."

Arthur walked with Duncan back to his hotel, "So, Sir Duncan; what do you make of our band of Immortals?"
"Forgive me, sire ... I think it's risky and dangerous bringing so many Immortals together. If some of the other evil ones find out ..."
"I know, but I'm hoping it won't be for long. In the days of Camelot, we were more and everyone was fighting to survive, especially when the Wintry and dark conditions hit us. It was somehow easier for Immortals to work together for longer periods. Like Robert and Gina, we cared for each other. I had that sort of close relationship with my second wife, but not for long enough. Did you ever ...?"
Duncan shook his head, "No; not really. Tried to quite a few times, but they seem to die or leave me," he sighed deeply, "Although I've longed for it, maybe Immortals just aren't made for long-term relationships. Robert and Gina are lucky."
Arthur nodded, "Well, there are three single ladies amongst us. Maybe one of them will take your fancy? Cassandra, for instance. She's a very beautiful woman."
"No. We tried for a while and it was very good, but then we had a major disagreement about somebody and she left. Not reparable, I'm afraid. Lilia is very attractive, but I've already seen sparks between her and Massimo."
Arthur sighed softly, "And your friend Myfanwy seems to be pairing off with Sir Samuel," Duncan merely flicked his eyebrows and Arthur continued, "Oh? I thought you were quite close - from how I observed you talking earlier and tonight."
Duncan's mouth curved into a slight smile, "Yes ... like sister and brother."
"She's a stunningly attractive woman; I'm surprised you've never tried."
Duncan shrugged, "A handful of very nice kisses, some verbal sparring and a warm friendship. I guess if it was going to develop into something more it would have happened by now."
"Well, we've got a lot to think about in the next days, but don't miss something that may be right under your nose, Duncan."

Duncan turned into the doorway of his hotel and watched Arthur move on to wherever he was staying. He went upstairs and lay in bed, thinking and brooding somewhat. So many lost loves and disappointments came to mind. Anne, although he realised that he'd read too much into their relationship now; his beloved Tessa, tragically mortal. He'd loved her perhaps the deepest of all, come closest to perfect happiness with her. Amanda; unpredictable, slippery and incredibly sexy. She'd used him, he'd let her and enjoyed the fringe benefits for the sheer fun she brought into his life. Couldn't cook worth squat, but in bed ... probably the most adventurous and insatiable bed-partner he'd ever known. Not a long-term commitment prospect, though. Amanda really needed a man who couldn't be twisted around her little finger. Someone like Nick Woolf. Duncan reckoned that was another doomed relationship - not that Amanda and Nick had got much past first base if reports were to be believed.

Now Myfanwy; about the same vintage as him historically. Thirty-five physically to his thirty. They'd met near the borders of Scotland in a rare period when Connor had been away, in the very early years of his Immortality ...

........She'd been disguised as a man and he hadn't figured her true gender out at the time. A certain lack of common language had also been a distinct barrier. That inn, the uncertain smiles, the careful way they'd looked at each other, checking each other out. Then having to spend the night in the loft together, swords placed inbetween them. He'd been delirious during the night - albeit briefly. He'd had some wild dreams, but Myfanwy hadn't taken advantage - she could have had his head if she'd been evil. Since then, he'd met Amanda and Rebecca and realised with a shock that his companion of all those years ago had been a woman. One he might have seduced, if he'd had the words! Over the years, they'd bumped into each other from time to time. Sometimes she'd had a lover, sometimes he'd been busy romancing another woman. Duncan remembered Myfanwy's life-long relationship with the brilliant mortal swordmaster Rayf Brilleut. Visiting them in France from time to time had cemented the friendship between Duncan and Myfanwy. Although he'd been deep in his own problems at the time, he'd noticed the way Darius had helped bring her through grief when Rayf finally died. She'd been a nun at the time - one of her rare periods of celibacy. Duncan knew she enjoyed male companionship about as much as he did female and she was almost always faithful to her partner.

About fifty years after Rayf's death, in the early Victorian era, they'd met in America when Duncan had seen her performance as Papagena and been struck - not for the first time - by her clear, distinctive singing voice. They'd had dinner later and things had been quite romantic. The kisses they'd shared on the veranda of her hotel had been getting close to the sort that might lead to seduction. Actually those kisses weren't just 'nice', they were up there with the best he'd ever enjoyed. Duncan had been near the point where he'd have tactfully suggested spending the rest of the night - and maybe more - together, when they'd been interrupted by a crazy Immortal. The Quickening had thrown him for a loop and he'd come to on a southbound train, almost naked. In short order, he found himself in Mexico, getting shot at. Since then, the world had gone through major upheavals and terrible conflicts. He'd been out of the Game for a while. They hadn't met much until recently, just when things had begun to heat up on the Immortal scene. He'd taken so many heads in the last years.

He knew that Myfanwy had been busy in Africa doing something to help AIDS victims. She'd told him recently that she wished she'd known about the Dark Quickening and Ahriman problems and would have offered to help. Duncan reckoned that in spite of her fighting and sword skills she might have ended up a head shorter and he'd miss her presence in his life more than most. The sudden intense pain he felt at the potential loss took him by surprise. Maybe Arthur's words were worth considering..............

The full moon began to rise behind Glastonbury Tor as various Immortals dug themselves in for the night, in hiding. They were just about evenly spaced out in a circle around the base of the Tor. Duncan had only seen the hill once before, but the peculiar hump-backed shape and the strange terracing down the grassy sides that some claimed to be a mystical maze was an image that stuck in the mind. Topped off with an empty church tower, it did have the look of a place where spiritual forces might well gather. Arthur crawled carefully up to Duncan. All the Immortals were wearing combat gear and 'camo' paint, so they were as disguised as they could be.
"Okay, Sir Duncan. Remember that where you are and the whole of the Tor is holy ground. If you come across a bad Immortal, get them out to the moors and farmland to left and right or Windmill Hill behind you - but watch for the houses there in the latter case. I'm hoping anything else can be dealt with safely right here. We're going to have to take our chances on that one."
Duncan raised his head a little, "Any news on Corin?"
Arthur shook his head, "No. My guess is that Kris has got him and is going to sacrifice him tonight. As for what is inside the Tor ... well, I'd say Tir-na-Nog, maybe Tuatha Da Danaan too. It's dangerous, wild, untameable - at least that was so last time. One of my knights got sucked inside by a kind of power vortex at the entrance and didn't come out for over 100 years, and then he was changed, mad. Like Rip-Van-Winkle in a way. So, try to avoid going inside. You might never emerge again."

Duncan nodded, then sighed to himself as Arthur moved on. It seemed as if every time he paused to take stock, put down roots and breathe more easily, fate - or whatever - stepped in and twisted the screw another notch. He looked up at the stars. They were still there. True, they'd moved a bit since Methos had been born and there were new ones which hadn't shone on that particular Immortal's head, but some of them were nearly as old as the universe and Duncan reckoned that Immortals probably went back only to the dawn of homo sapiens at the earliest. Some of those stars had shone on primordial soup and dinosaurs, long before all this and there would be others which would watch when Immortals were nothing but a memory. So, his troubles were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It would have been nice, though, to have had a lady by his side, maybe guarding his back and loving him passionately for three hundred years or so, like the relationship between Robert and Gina. It would have made the bad times a little easier. Soulmate. In all the women, he'd been looking for her. Someone who would be one with him in body, mind and spirit. Tessa had come closest. He cherished her memory, for herself and as a kind of promise that having a soulmate might just be possible. His right hand wrapped around his sword hilt.
'If she's out there ... send her to me. Last time I was here I nearly met Margaret. But Joe's infornmation was just that bit too old; she'd died before we could meet. If my soulmate exists, give me a chance with her? After all this is over, though - please?'

Up on the Tor, a number of Pagans were drumming inside the ruined tower at the top. It had once been attached to a church, dedicated to St Michael, the prince of high places. The church was long gone and the tower resonated to drums rather than bells. The intention of worship and adoration was the same. On the East and West sides of the tower were man-made stone paths with steps affording easier access to the top than the slippery grass slopes. Also to the East of the Tower was a triangulation point, shaped rather like a low round coffee table, but made of stone. Sunk into the top of this was a circular engraved metal plate, pointing out the features which could be spotted from the Tor's height on a clear day. It was near this spot that Arthur had knighted Duncan all those months ago. Here, a Druid-Christian priest was lighting a garden flare and chanting softly. He knew something was about to happen that he hadn't anticipated and he was casting protective spells around the sacred spot.

Kris Langley climbed the steep East side of the Tor, dragging something large and heavy behind him, which bumped up the steps and made muffled noises of pain from time to time. He pulled the semi-conscious Corin over to the triangulation point. The Druid stepped forward.
"This is a holy moot! You can't do this!"
Kris turned a snarling face at him, "I can and I will!" The Druid began to conjure more powerful spells, his voice raised now. Kris faced him, hands on hips, Corin pinned under one booted foot, "Oh, for goodness sake!"

His hands shot out and the Druid flew backwards, hitting the wall of the tower. The holy man sat stunned for a moment and then pulled himself upright. Determination written across his face, he began a most powerful casting spell. Kris had Corin on the top of the triangulation point. A sword was raised, glimmering in the moonlight. A ball of energy came from the Druid. The sword descended, the energy ball hit dead on its target. For a second, there was dead silence. The Quickening came first, visible, direct from the skies, seeking an Immortal host. It spilled over the top of the Tor, crackling and writhing. It found Tom Quan, who had begun to crawl up the South of the Tor to prevent the sacrifice. White and blue fire erupted from that side of the Tor. Even Duncan to the North, behind the hill, saw something. Two dead bodies lifted and were cast down the side of the hill, both minus heads. Corin and Kris. Somehow his own intent had rebounded on him, maybe because of the Druid's intervention. The Druid rode the eye of the magic storm, trying to redirect the incredible psychic and spiritual energies. The other Pagans scattered downhill, frightened almost out of their wits.

A crack appeared in the North side of the Tor. It gleamed dull red at first, then the crack swirled, distending and stretching like a mirage or heat-haze in Summer. It became a huge Doorway. Wisps of smoke came out, then a burning golden light. In the light were figures, indistinct at first, but then suddenly and potently real. A male figure, in a timeless armour, riding a great horse, welding a sword of fire. Behind him others, on horseback; but all these could move on the air. Duncan realised his mouth had dropped open and he shut it again. Not since Ahriman had he seen anything like this and these figures were more solid and felt ... wilder, somehow. He knew them, in the depths of his being. He crossed himself reflexively, even though he knew these entities would probably not be susceptible such a symbol.
"Holy Mother of God ..." It was a kind of prayer, although Duncan reckoned even the Blessed Virgin might be afraid of these, "Owain and the Wild Hunt. Arthur was right." He stood up, ready. As ready as he could feel, in the circumstances.

The Wild Hunt rode the air over Glastonbury. Owain gazed down at the Tor.
"WHO CALLED US?" The voice was felt as well as heard. King Arthur was suddenly there, in the road by the Tor.
"One called Kris Langley, an Immortal, but he is dead now. He killed on holy ground."
Owain laughed, loud and deep, "THEN WE ARE FREE AGAIN! WE RIDE! YOU CANNOT RETURN US!"
Tom Quan appeared, rimned in moonlight, on the brow of the Tor, "Um ... sirs? Maybe I can - I received Kris' Quickening." The Wild Hunt wheeled, turned and rode back towards Tom en masse. It was over in seconds. The Quickening went Westwards towards the next nearest Immortal and the Wild Hunt followed.
Duncan ran down to the road, swearing, "Bloody hell! They can't do that!!"
Arthur walked up to him, shaking his head sadly, "Yes, they can. They are not Immortal - well, not in the sense that we are. They are outside time and moral imperatives. Anyhow, their release will let others out. We will be kept busy while they try to pick us off, one by one." Duncan had a feeling that victims of the Four Horsemen might have had similar fears. Even as Arthur spoke, there were other figures at the entrance of the Doorway. Duncan and Arthur began to draw closer, cautiously.

A female figure, feathered and shining. A Celtic goddess, hung with skulls. A single male warrior, carrying a spear and covered in blood. An old man with a long beard. Four maidens, carrying things in their hands; a spear, a huge crystal, a broken sword and another shining object covered in white cloth.
Duncan gasped, "The Four Hallows!"
"No, my friend. Not the real ones. All these ..." Arthur swept with his hand, "Are our memories, dreams and legends taking on palpable form. Blodouedd, Rhiannon, Lleu Llau Gryffes - not sure about the old man - and the 'Grail' procession from Mallory's imagination. Look, some Scottish ones, just for you ..."
"Wallace?!! Robert the Bruce?" Duncan's eyes drank in his heroes.
Arthur's hand grasped his shoulder, "Not real. Just like Ahriman."
"I don't have to dance again, do I?"
"Whatever helps you ignore them, Sir Duncan. They don't exist. If they actually attack you, defend yourself and laugh."
"Laugh?" Duncan could barely have been more surprised if Arthur had suggested he strip naked.
Arthur nodded, "Remember your Scriptures, Duncan MacLeod. Laugh and the Devil - or anything else a bit shadowy - runs from you. These entities melt away with laughter. I remember that from last time."
"Wish that'd work for bad Immortals."
Arthur grinned, "Don't we all. Anyway, these are just preliminary skirmishes, designed to catch you off-guard and trap you in fantasy and dreaming. The big stuff comes next."

Duncan did as he was bidden and ignored the dream-figures coming from the mystic Doorway. It wasn't easy - there were questions he'd always wanted to ask William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. For a start, had Wallace been Immortal? Knowing how he died, it was possible. He kept his eyes slightly downcast and managed a rather half-hearted laughter. He felt tendrils cold and clammy on his skin as the conjured images brushed against him. Hearing Arthur's laughter close by helped him. He was so engrossed in this that he didn't see the new dark riders at the Doorway for a split second. His Katana came up, but not quite in time to prevent one dark rider from hitting him. Duncan spun and engaged this fighting enemy.
"Don't go in the Doorway!" he heard Arthur's voice from afar off, "Whatever you do, don't go inside!" Duncan was busy fighting for his life. Whoever - or whatever - this new foe was, he was good. Fast, deadly and accurate. Several wounds to his body bore out the fighting skill of his opponent. Duncan suddenly heard someone on his right.
"Mac! The horse!" He recognised the voice and plunged his Katana into the horse at the same moment. Weak, he fell to his knees as both the deadly opponents vanished.
"Well, you took your time, Merlin." That was Arthur's voice.
Duncan looked up at his old friend, "Merlin?!!!"
An enigmatic shrug and a grin answered him, "I told you, I haven't felt guilt since the 11th century!"
"Yes, but Merlin ...!! I guess I shouldn't be surprised after all this time ... um ... Adam."
Methos shrugged again, "Hang on," he said, turning back to the Doorway, "Here comes another lot."

The three Immortals spread out. Duncan took a deep breath. He could still feel his lungs and innards knitting after the last bout of fighting and he didn't particularly want to faint from lack of blood - however briefly - right now. He was engaged with a new, scarlet-clad opponent when the Wild Hunt wheeled around the hill towards them.
"Oh, shit. Not now ..." Unfortunately, the Wild Hunt had other plans. Killing Immortals seemed to be at the top of the list.

Methos raised himself up to his full height and marched towards the mystic warriors. He was saying something, but Duncan was far too busy to listen. Wounds that had just healed were re-opened and Duncan felt himself weakening. He had cuts just about everywhere and getting a blade through the guts on top was not good. For several desperate seconds, he thought it was all going to end, right here, right now. A dark rider on a horse approached from his left and he thought this was it. A hand with a sword took out the other guy, then a free hand reached down to him from inside a voluminous black cloak.
"Jump on!" Well, if it meant a quick end ... Duncan managed, with one final gathering of strength, to get on the horse, then everything went black.

Duncan came to face down on a smooth wooden table. He was naked and alive. He could hear running water. His hand searched for his sword automatically.
"S'okay mate. You're safe!" Careful hands bathed the deep wounds in his back, legs and side. Duncan recognised that warm voice with the distinctive Kiwi accent.
"Samuel!"
"Yeah?"
"They'll heal by themselves soon enough!"
Samuel chuckled softly, "No worries, mate. The doctor in me just can't bear to see dirty wounds - even on a fellow Immortal. Mud, grass, bits of demon ..."
"You saved my life. Thank-you."
Samuel handed him a towel for modesty, "S'alright, mate. You're a good fullah. Let me do the other side now, eh?"
Duncan turned with Samuel's help and tried to prop himself up, but couldn't because of the huge wound in his guts, "Where am I?"
Samuel's hands gently persuaded him to lie still for a bit, "You're in the White Spring cafe. I hired it yesterday from the regular owners. It's not much, but we have clean running water and a small medical supply."
"I thought I could hear flowing water nearby - very near."
"It runs through the cafe about six feet away. When that stomach's all healed up and your perineum and skin have knitted together in a bit, I'll give you a drink from it, eh."
Duncan felt Samuel cover him with something to keep him warm and place a pillow under his head, then he faded out of consciousness again for a while.

When Duncan next woke up, Samuel and King Arthur were there. Duncan was able to sit up now and did so, rather swiftly, on the alert. Arthur held up his hand.
"It's okay. We still have enough Immortals left in the battle to cope, and Merlin is dealing with Owain, just as he did last time. I can wait a few minutes while you dress and have this ..." Arthur held out a deeply bowled metal chalice, full of water from the spring. Duncan took it, drank the wonderfully cold, clear water, then he felt all the hairs on the back of his neck go up.
Duncan took another look at the cup, "Um ... is this ...?" He could barely frame the words. He held it out, awestruck.
Arthur looked enigmatic, "I couldn't possibly tell you. Believe it is, if it will help you."

Duncan looked around. The table he currently occupied was surrounded by wooden settles, then rock walls on three sides, giving the look and feel of a small cave. Beyond Samuel, to Duncan's left, the spring he'd heard before gushed out of the wall, low down, then spilled down a purpose-built channel of reddish bricks in the floor across the cafe to the right. Also to the right were a couple more wooden tables with chairs and the base of a flight of stone steps leading up and out. A muffled equine snort from that direction revealed the location of the horse he'd been brought on.

Duncan turned towards Samuel, "He saved my life."
Arthur nodded, "I know."
Samuel shrugged, "Thank Myfanwy, mate. She came around the Tor, running from the thickets and saw the Wild Hunt bearing down on all of you from the opposite direction. She alerted me, I ... um ... borrowed a horse and got to you first. I guess she's still out there with the other Immortals, fighting the demons and things."
Duncan grabbed his sword, "So let's go and help them!"
Arthur looked at him, "I don't think appearing naked will help, Sir Duncan!"
Duncan blushed and began to throw on his clothes. They had some interesting slits, tears and stains now, but they were just about wearable.
Samuel chuckled softly again, "And as much as Myfanwy might like to see you naked, I don't think now is the time, eh!"
Duncan held Samuel back behind Arthur as they went up the stone steps out of the cafe towards the door, "What do you mean?"
Samuel's eyes were only a little above his own and radiated sincerity, "The lady loves you, Duncan. Deeply. Hopelessly, apparently. If you can't reciprocate, let me know. I'm alone right now and I think she might be persuaded to take me on instead, eh."

The three Immortals walked briskly back up to the open wound in the Tor. Duncan could see raw power and other things shimmering in the night air. The stars were blotted out by the many whirling figures in the air and on the ground. The only light came from the moon and the strange glow of the Doorway. There, at the margin between reality and fantasy, the shimmering was most intense, making it almost impossible to see who or what would emerge until almost too late. The Wild Hunt wheeled in circles above the gathered Immortals. There were quite a few bodies on the ground. Other things were waiting, hiding in the swirling distortion at the Doorway, ready to be unleashed upon the world. Duncan saw Methos, his sword raised hilt-first, still chanting upwards towards the Wild Hunt. Despite being an Immortal who seemed to avoid fights whenever possible, he was making up for his indolence now. Myfanwy was there, almost dancing as she skillfully weaved and dodged on the grass, her long pony-tail flying. Duncan saw her use some Tae Kwon Do moves to good effect. As Arthur had said, this battle was one that might not be won by the sword. Duncan took all of this in in a heartbeat, then joined the melee.

Owain bore down on Duncan. As he came closer, Duncan could see the eyes of the leader of the Wild Hunt glowed a phospherescent and unearthly green.
"AH. CHAMPION. AVATAR. WE KNOW YOU."
"Whatever you are, you must go back!" Duncan was trying to keep facing the powerful entity and he knew moving in circles was not the best idea. Suddenly he felt a slightly smaller and feminine form fit her back to his back. Owain moved back upwards a little, surveying the scene.
"S'okay, cariad. I've got you covered!"
Duncan felt a warm, inner smile of welcome coat his words, "Thanks, Myfanwy. Any clues?" "I don't think beheading will help, but I guess you've figured that out already ..." she trailed off as she made a crosswise slashing downwards blow with her own sword in front of her. Duncan didn't need to see it to feel exactly which muscles she'd used and what the blow had been, "Sorry. Some kind of boggart, at a guess," he felt her bend momentarily to wipe her blade on the grass, "Messy one, too."

Owain and the Wild Hunt were keeping their distance now. After the apparent wanton slaughter of at least two Immortals earlier, Duncan wondered why. Risking a sideways glance, he saw that all the Immortals left were standing back to back, covering each other. Arthur was guarding Methos, who was still chanting into the night air. Something similar to the lightning of a Quickening was spiralling out of his sword hilt, his hands and his hair and twisting up into the air.
"Duw ..." Myfanwy breathed, "I've never seen Methos so ... intense ... except when he's been in love!" Duncan felt a sudden surge of jealousy, thinking that maybe Myfanwy had been one of those loves a long time ago. Duncan knew now that they'd been lovers off and on in the past and it bothered him, although it was patently obvious that they were just friends now.
"Hmm."
Myfanwy seemed to read his thoughts, "Of course, it was never me he was in love with! Or I with him, for that matter," she grunted softly as another wispy amorphous shape came close to their heads and they both lifted their swords to block it, "Darn. How can you kill something that probably isn't alive in any sense we'd recognise?"
"Beats me, princess," Suddenly Duncan realised something, "They're driving us all towards the Doorway! It's subtle, but it's working!"
Myfanwy looked around, "Uh-huh. Methos and Arthur are very close to that vortex-like thing at the lip, cariad."

At that moment, there was a monumental upheaval, like an earthquake. Duncan found himself pitched forward and fell flat on the grass with Myfanwy piled crosswise on top of him. He took a moment to suck in the air which had been knocked out of his body.
"Are you okay, Myfanwy?"
"Yes ... I think so," she panted, "Hope I didn't squash you, cariad!"
Duncan chuckled softly, "No, princess," He moved remarkably swiftly, skillfully pulling her into his arms as he turned over. For a moment she was next to his chest, her lips parted and very close. Duncan realised how many years had passed since he'd last kissed her. He let their lips brush and cling for one sweet, delicious moment, "Hope it isn't over eighty years till the next time, Myfanwy."
"Soon would be nice - after this is all over."
Duncan's mouth broke into its rare and charming grin, "You've got a date!" His lips were eager for more, for a better taste of all that wild sweetness. He'd almost forgotten how wonderfully their lips fitted and moved together but now part of his mind was busy replaying for him the slow, drugged and delectable kisses on the veranda of that American hotel of over one hundred years ago and calling him ten sorts of fool for not exploring further then or since.

There was a sudden pulse of energy through the air, similar to a strong gust of wind, but no natural phenomenon could have made it. It hit, penetrated and flowed through their bodies and pushed relentlessly uphill, half dragging and half carrying them with it. The Immortals tried to resist, but the power was very strong. Duncan saw that Owain seemed to be directing and channelling the energy; the Wild Hunt's leader had his hands upraised in a gesture that was similar to a priest's blessing, though the hair crawling over Duncan's scalp and body told him this power felt even more elemental, tinged with an edge of malevolence. He briefly considered the dance he'd done to assuage the inner and outer assault of Ahriman, but wasn't sure if he could actually physically manage it at the moment. He doubted anyone could stand in the face of the power now pushing them remorselessly uphill towards the Doorway. He looked towards Methos and Arthur. For a couple of seconds, they were there at the Doorway; then the vortex warped and flexed and the two figures were sucked inside the Tor. Duncan let out a disbelieving and impotant shout of protest.

"Oh, shit ..."
"Brenin! M...Adam!"
Duncan's eyes met Myfanwy's, "Have you ever fancied a journey through Hades?"
She looked at him, white in the face, but determined, "Not especially, but it seems we have no option. We have to try."
Duncan pausedas close to the sucking vortex as he dared, digging into the grass underneath them with feet and hands, "We might not come back."
"I know."
"Ever."
"Well, we'll have each other's company, fy nghariad."
Duncan's lips curved slightly, remembering the brief kiss of earlier and the other previous kisses. There was something he hadn't done with Myfanwy and her most kissable mouth and now seemed as good a time as any to try the experience, even if it was only once. A good memory to cherish in the event death really did await them on the other side of the vortex. He leaned closer and their mouths clung beautifully. Moving slowly, he very gently touched her parted lips with his tongue. Her tongue was there within a heartbeat, playing a delicious game of tag with his, sliding sensuously and seductively into a full kiss. She tasted delicious. Duncan deepened the kiss. He moaned softly; this was better than his fantasies. He heard an answering moan from Myfanwy. His head swam with the sudden knowledge that if their kisses were this good, making love with her would be exceptional. He drew away with genuine regret, mainly because duty called just feet away. Myfanwy's eyes were dark and smoky with desire and it took hard determination not to sweep her back into his arms for more. Suddenly the accustomed clear blue of her eyes was back and she was alert and Immortal warrior maiden again.

Duncan held out his hand, "Together?"
She grinned, but her face was suffused with lingering shared pleasure, "Yes, Tamino!" Her hand slotted into his, fingers entwined.
Duncan placed the reference as he got to his knees beside her, "Somehow I don't think a magic flute would help us, princess."
"Duncan ... fy nghariad?" he looked at her once more, "Thank-you."
"My pleasure, sweet Myfanwy." He touched her cheek and their eyes met one last time with an unspoken promise as the vortex carried them inside the Tor.

Darkness. Duncan was surprised at that. He could see absolutely nothing, but he felt Myfanwy's hand in his.
"Cariad?" So he could still hear.
"Yes, it's me." The ground under his feet felt firm and the slight echo told him that there was probably rock around them.
"Got a light?"
Duncan's lips twitched into a smile, "No. Bugger!"
"Well, if we crouch down, we can feel the floor with our hands and move forwards very carefully."
"Okay, but stay close." They got down onto their stomachs without letting go of each other and began to move very slowly and carefully through the velvet blackness.

Samuel was finally able to put down his sword. His arms ached and he felt tired - at least at the moment. The Wild Hunt had suddenly drawn back and he'd seen the delicious-looking kiss between Myfanwy and Duncan before they'd gone after Arthur and Methos. Seconds later, the Wild Hunt had followed. Samuel sighed and began helping clear up the mess around the Tor. Whatever dangers they had faced had now retreated, at least for a while and he and the others still standing could take a breather, have a brief respite and wait. The bodies of the irretrievably dead were put on a funeral pyre. So, the National Trust who owned the land would have kittens and problems finding out exactly what had happened, but that wasn't his problem. He looked at the complement of Immortal survivors. Robert and Gina; Lilia and Corin. Plus himself and maybe Cassandra. She'd been guarding his back until recently. They left the pyre and did another slow sweep of both sides of the Tor. Eventually they found her headless body hidden under a low bush. Samuel sighed and tenderly helped carry her to lie with the others. They lit the pyre, said whatever words seemed appropriate and went back to sit near the Doorway, which was black and still now.

Duncan and Myfanwy edged forward. They gingerly rounded a bend to their right and suddenly came into a cave filled with glistening light, bouncing off the facets of what seemed to be a million crystals.
Myfanwy gasped, "Wow ..."
Duncan was scanning the room. He pointed to one crystal that was a different colour to the rest, glowing blue in the light, "That's not a sapphire ... but what is it?"
Myfanwy drew closer. She was feeling a pull deep inside her. Duncan tailed her, keeping watch all around. Myfanwy looked back at Duncan reassuringly and drew her sword carefully. The crystal tapered to a point, like an upturned cone. She touched the base of the pommel to the top of the stone. There was a sudden bolt of power and white light, similar to a Quickening and Myfanwy fell back into Duncan's arms.
"Are you okay, princess?" She nodded, then they both looked up. Standing on the other side of the chamber, their clothes somewhat muddy and torn were Arthur and Methos.
The old Immortal smiled, "It's been years since I saw this place ... and the last time I was here, we found it in North Wales."
Duncan looked up, puzzled, but Myfanwy understood as she pulled herself upright, "The crystal cave!! The place you went to at the end with Nimue."
Methos arched a brow, "You always did know how to access more of my secrets than most, Myfanwy. Yes, Nimue and I had many pleasurable times here," he looked at Duncan, "This space is ... magic, to use a term you would find comfortable. It appears when one has need of it and that stone is the linchpin of the whole thing. It'll help us restrain the Wild Hunt. Remember the holy spring and the Methuselah stone, Mac."

Duncan nodded, knowing somehow what he had to do next. He drew his Katana and touched the tip of the blade to the crystal, even as Methos raised both his hands. There was a huge, blinding blue and white explosion of light and something like an earthquake. The four Immortals found themselves falling onto wet grass, winded temporarily. When Duncan blinked and got his vision back, he saw the Doorway had vanished, trapping the Wild Hunt back inside and sealing the entrance. A fresh breeze blew and there wasn't a sign of any strange activity. As he pulled himself upright and greeted the others and the five who waited outside, he was told that it seemed every part of the Tor had been cleaned.
Samuel gestured to where the funeral pyre had been, "Even that's gone, eh. Not a trace of burning." The nine of them carefully walked up the Tor, making sure everything was well as the sun came slowly up in the East. At the top, by the tower, they found the Druid priest who had tried to stop Kris. He was slowly standing up himself and bowing to the sun.
He looked at the nine of them and smiled slowly, "Ah. It was High Magic," Methos suddenly realised one of his pockets was very heavy and pulled out the blue power crystal. The Druid made a sign in the air instinctively, "The Earth has blessed you."
Methos looked at the crystal, which was hollowed out like an old-fashioned goblet when held base down and smiled slowly, "To make up for having to lose Alexa. It chose me because it knew. It was never there in that cave before last night."

They all walked back down the healed Tor and to the cafe of the White Spring where Samuel had ministered to Duncan. A lady was sweeping the floor near the stream and looked up in welcome when they came in. Samuel stopped dead as their eyes met, and so did she. All the others could see exactly what was going on, and that the lady was pre-Immortal. Methos smiled as the rest of them drew into an alcove and waited for Samuel and his apparent soulmate to make introductions to each other.
Methos looked at Duncan, "Ever known that?"
The Scot shook his head, "Saw it in you two ..." he indicated the De Valincourts.
Robert smiled, "When you know ... you know. Whether it's Fate or God, I don't care. It happens and suddenly all the other stuff makes sense and has a compensation, because you have someone to share the joys and the pain." Gina smiled with him.
Myfanwy looked over to the lady of the cafe who actually resembled her quite strongly and smiled to herself, "Yes, I can see that."
Methos went over to the stream and fetched water in the hollowed cup at the wide end of the crystal, "To the cause. To Immortality. To love. To ..." he shrugged and paused, smiling, "Well, whatever. Drink." All the Immortals and the Druid drank, then passed the cup to Samuel and the lady who joined them.
Duncan looked at Methos, "Why?"
"I came because I had to. I am the Merlin. I delayed because ..." his lips slanted into a grin, "I have a peculiar sense of humour where you are concerned, Mac."
"And the Wild Hunt?" Duncan was letting Methos get away with his showmanship for now.
Methos shrugged, "It was granted us to beat them. Things happened to aid us, as well you know." He handed the crystal 'goblet' to Arthur.

Arthur smiled, as he briefly held the crystal, "Nothing like the Holy Grail, but Glastonbury has always been a 'thin' place. Somewhere the veil between the real world and the elsewhere has been thin for a long time. Thank-you all for helping me. One day the Doorway will open again, but that will be for the final conflict before Consummation. All the great ones will rise with the land, the trees, the rocks, the creatures to aid the battle. Maybe that will be the Gathering. After that I shall expect to carouse with you all in the Halls of Lugh and drink the true Water of Life. We did better than last time, we stopped the Blight and we have a new, smaller round table ... " he turned to the Druid and pinned him with a look, "Secret, my friend."
The Druid smiled, "My name's Harry and don't worry; I know about the mysteries, Sire."

The lady with Samuel smiled, "I'm Rhiannon and how about some breakfast?"
Arthur laughed heartily, "That sounds like an excellent idea!"
Duncan drew Myfanwy to one side as they waited, "Um ... what about ... us?"
She smiled beautifully, "What do you want, Duncan? More than the friendship we have?"
Duncan nodded slowly, "That delicious kiss last night and working with the crystal ... I feel I've been missing something that's been within reach for a long time, Myfanwy."
She gently and lovingly touched his face, "Let's take it one step at a time. I think we both need to be sure."
Duncan smiled back, stealing a quick kiss before they went to help lay the tables for breakfast at the start of a bright new day. Myfanwy led the company in songs of spring and new life until their hearts and bellies were full.

THE END.

"Fy nghariad" is pronounced something like "vung (rhyming with 'bung') hariad", literally "my love". Back to story