by Stargate
A faint smile flickered across Jack's face.
"And you, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c looked intently at Daniel. "Remember the skills O'Neill and I have shown you. You are quick of mind and supple of body. Keep moving at all times, be unpredictable. Give your enemy little opportunity to strike you. Use your natural skills to confound them and strike with intent at the first opening." His voice softened with emotion. "Be well, my brother."
Daniel shut his mouth with a clack of teeth. "I will, Teal'c. Good luck."
Daniel extended his hand and Teal'c gripped it, shifting to the forearm clasp of warrior-brothers. He repeated the gesture with Jack, then turned to face the waiting Jaffa. In a flash of light he was outside the barrier and striding toward the weap ons table.
Watching him go, Jack patted Daniel's shoulder.
"C'mon. Warm up with me."
The array of weapons brought a jumble of memories flooding into Teal'c's mind: happy days of apprenticeship, training with friends in mock battle, seeing those same friends' lives thrown away for the vanity of their `god'. Almost instinctively he reached out and picked up a sturdy bashaak staff, four feet in length. Simple. Unadorned. Deadly in knowing hands.
His opponent stepped forward and picked up the matching staff, thickset face sneering dismissively.
Teal'c glowered contemptuously at the man. He stalked into the arena, impatient to begin.
The Jaffa facing him was the largest of the four challengers, yet still many years younger than Teal'c himself. The gong pealed, echoing flatly off the snow-blanketed ground and trees.
The challenger sketched a haughty bow to Teal'c, barely this side of polite acknowledgement between warriors of equal rank. Which they were not.
"You reject the service of your god to seek succor at the feet of Ra Almighty, Jaffa?"
With an eerily graceful twist, the Jaffa launched through the air, staff cracking hard into Teal'c's, and dropped lightly to his feet.
"Apophis was not my god." Teal'c answered the move in a dazzling flip, using the staff for support, his foot connecting most satisfyingly with the other's head. "Apophis is no god at all. He is in fact dead." His voice rang clearly through the silence of the spectators.
"Hah! No wonder you abandoned your duty and sought service with the one god who rules all!" The challenger uttered an incoherent howl and flung himself at Teal'c in a whirlwind of feet and staff.
Teal'c dodged, rolled, and delivered a solid strike with his weapon. The Jaffa's staff landed bruisingly on his back, but Teal'c spun away, retaliating with a backhand swing that nearly broke the man's arm.
"You fight well," he growled. "You should use your skills to make a better path for yourself in this life."
His opponent threw himself to the ground, sliding into Teal'c and sweeping his legs out from under him. Teal'c crashed onto his back. He blocked the incoming staff, jerked his legs towards his chest and flipped back onto his feet.
His opponent was unimpressed with Teal'c's advice. "Hassac, " he spat. He swung his staff at Teal'c with such force that Teal'c felt his thumb break as he deflected the blow.
"Death is the reward of the ignorant." The old saying came softly to Teal'c's lips. He knew words would never change this man's devotion to a false, dead god.
He dropped into a cartwheel, hands brushing the stone paving for bare seconds. His feet impacted with the challenger's face who was sweeping forward in his own attack. Cartilage and bone shattered, bright blood glittered through the air. As the man fell, Teal'c surged on, never breaking his momentum. He raised the staff and brought the blunted end down on the base of the Jaffa's skull.
The challenger was dead before his body crashed to the ground.
Teal'c stiffened into a formal salute, the staff tucked tight along his arm. "You died well, cha til."
He looked up at the silent witnesses, his chest heaving. Once again the gong resounded through the crisp air. Teal'c allowed himself to be escorted toward the tent where Major Carter waited, the stone tablet of victory in his hand.
More difficult than the battle just fought, he strove to raise his eyes and allow himself one final glimpse of his two comrades, yet to endure their own struggle for life.
"Teal'c!" Major Carter looked up as he entered the tent, and he felt the grim lines of his face soften as he saw her.
"Major Carter. Are you well?"
"I'm good, Teal'c. Just the one cut that's hurting. The rest are minor."
Teal'c knelt at her side, inspecting the wound through the tear in her pants and reaching for a bowl on the table containing a particularly pungent paste. "There are only two guards in attendance. We must hold ourselves ready to assist O'Neill and Daniel Jackson."
She winced as he slathered the substance over the wound, covering it with a thick bandage.
"I'm ready."
Keeping one eye on Teal'c as he headed for the arena, Jack took Daniel through a series of stretches and exercises, feeling his own muscles-taxed from his little mountaineering jaunt-burn in protest.
"Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
"You're going to be able to do this, aren't you?"
Daniel paused in mid sit-up. Slowly completing the movement he glanced carefully at Jack's worried face. Disconcerted, he looked down at his own feet.
"I know what's at stake, Jack," he hedged. "I think so. I hope so." He sighed, honesty seeping out as always. "I don't know."
Jack finished his push-ups and faced Daniel. In the background, a roar rose from the spectators around the arena. They both turned, catching a glimpse of Teal'c flying feet-first through the air.
"I have to know you will do this, Daniel."
Daniel opened his mouth but Jack cut him off.
"You've got the training, the knowledge. Use it. We're not going to get any second chances here, Daniel. It's kill or be killed and I sure as hell don't want to see you killed. Again."
"Well, I don't want to die, Jack. If it comes down to that, then I will do my best to... you know. But I still think we should try to talk to them, tell them Ra is dead."
"You think a bunch of Jaffa is going to be happy hearing their entire way of life is a lie and the god they serve has been dead for years? They'll just say sorry and let us go home?"
"It's worth a try, isn't it?"
Jack let out a frustrated gurgle, leaned over and grabbed two fistfuls of Daniel's jacket, bringing them nose to nose.
"There is no try. There is only do, Daniel. You go in there, kill that guy, come out alive and for once value your own life more than some guy who's spent his whole life killing nice people like you."
Daniel's eyebrows bobbed up and down as he blinked at Jack. "You kind of sounded like Yoda there for a moment," he said mildly.
Jack let Daniel go, patting the rumpled jacket back into place. "Yeah, well, apparently he was always right too. Just keep in mind, Daniel, that Sha're and Skaara are still out there, depending on you to find them."
Another roar from the arena brought them to their feet.
"Carter and Teal'c, they need you too. And if you think I'm gonna keep going through the 'gate without you, you're wrong," Jack persisted. "So if you won't do it for yourself, do it for us."
Jack stared into Daniel's eyes for a long moment, saw doubt chasing reason. It was the best he could hope for. He slapped Daniel's shoulder lightly and they rose to move back to the force-field. Moments later another great cry rose up from the spectators, this time joined by the gong signaling the end of the contest.
Teal'c appeared soon after, striding tall and proud toward the tent. He glanced at them briefly before being ushered inside. Jack sighed. Two down, two to go. And they now had half their team outside the force-field.
"Okay." Jack turned to Daniel, trying to ignore the thud of blood pounding through his head. He plucked Daniel's glasses from his face and tucked them in a pocket, then reached out and started zipping Daniel's jacket as he spoke. "Keep this done up, it'll help protect you. Pick a weapon you're comfortable with. Try and br
ing him down quickly, keep moving all the time."
He was on the verge of babbling when Daniel caught his hands, his grip warm and steady.
"Jack, I'll be okay. Look after yourself. Please."
The Jaffa were already there, standing expectantly on the other side of the force-field.
"I'll see you soon," Jack said quietly.
"You will." Daniel nodded encouragingly. "Good luck."
The beam whisked Jack away, a thousand things he wanted to say churning inside him.
Glaring at the Jaffa around him, Jack marched so swiftly toward the weapons table they had to scurry to keep up. There was an anger building in him, fuelled as it often was by injustice. The Jaffa's rigid one-dimensional devotion to a dead god and their eagerness to throw away lives in pursuit of that devotion were stoking a rage that would soon only find release in violence.
None of the weapons offered sufficient savagery to match what he was feeling.
His opponent stepped up to the opposite side of the table: muscled, of indeterminate age, face haughty and cruel. The epitome of every uniformed thug Jack had ever met in a lifetime of combat. He pointedly turned away to stare at the Jaffa leader. There was intelligence in that face, wisdom born of years, reminding him vividly of Bra'tac.
"I don't suppose we can dispense with the weapons and just do this bare-handed?"
The old guy seemed surprised, but considered the question carefully before answering. "It is not against the rule of Trial to fight without weapons. If that is your choice, so be it."
Jack's adversary clapped his huge meaty hands together and all but ran for the arena. Jack kept his attention on the old Jaffa. "What do your rules say about allowing someone to cede the fight because they were brought here against their will?"
The Jaffa's face closed down in refusal, but Jack pressed on. "Your society reveres scholars, scribes, doesn't it?"
Confused, the old warrior nodded slowly.
"Well, that man back there behind the force-field is one of the most learned scholars you'll ever meet. He speaks many different languages, knows more about your history than you do. Why would someone like that risk their life in a trial like this?"
"For the highest honor of serving our god." The stock answer came out right on cue.
Jack sighed, frustration forcing him to ignore Teal'c's earlier advice. "Vow see, that's another thing you don't know. Your god is dead. Blown with his ship to little, itty bits that are still floating in orbit around Abydos."
Leaning in till they were almost nose to nose, Jack cut off the Jaffa's indignant denial.
"You wanna know how I know that? Because I'm the one who blew him up. Sent a big old bomb up through the rings as he was taking off. The whole planet saw the explosion. Your `god' has been dead for three and a half years. How long has it been since you had contact from off-world? How many more lives are you going to waste here?"
The Jaffa stepped back, his face twisting with fury. "Lies... blasphemy... sacrilege. You shall engage in combat and your untruths will not aid you." He turned on his heel and stalked toward his waiting men.
Jack yanked his forage cap off and shoved it into a pocket. "Fine."
He strode into the arena without a backward glance. Murmurs were silenced as the watching troops came respectfully to attention. The gong rang out and the Jaffa facing Jack rushed him with a gleeful bellow.
Jack let the man get within spitting distance before sidestepping and delivering a straight-fingered jab to the hollow between the man's collarbones. The Jaffa went down with a horrible choked rasp.
Turning slightly, Jack sought out and held the commander's gaze for a significant moment. Beside him, his challenger staggered upright. Thickly muscled forearms wrapped around Jack's neck, cutting off oxygen, but Jack felt only a cold clarity in his mind. One goal. Achieve it now.
Jack raised his right leg and shredded his boot heel down the long nerve running the length of the man's thigh: agonizing and terribly effective. The Jaffa screamed, his legs collapsing under him, overloaded nervous system shrieking in pain. Before he was even halfway to the ground, Jack twisted around and rammed the heel of his left hand up under the man's chin, sending shards of broken jaw up into the brain. A quick twist snapped his neck and the body thudded to a heap on the ground.
Stunned silence settled over the watching Jaffa. Jack straightened up and walked out of the arena less than two minutes after entering it, the gong sounding belatedly behind him. He didn't look at the body; he needed no more faces joining the ones already shelved in a dark comer of his memory. He pulled out his cap and rammed it back on his head, yanking the bill far down over his eyes.
The trophy tablet was thrust at him and he took it, his eyes pinning the elder Jaffa.
"You have to stop this. Now." Jack's voice came out in a shaky hiss.
The Jaffa gazed at him, a little doubt showing on his face. Nonetheless, he indicated toward the tent and Jack was led away. The moment he was in the tent, Carter and Teal'c were at his side. A swift glance told him they were whole and functioning.
"Where are we at?" he snapped.
"There are only the two guards out front, sir. Seems they're not too concerned about us once we've passed the test," Carter said.
"We have cut an exit in the back of the tent, O'Neill," Teal'c continued, brandishing what looked like a sharp dinner knife. "With most of the Jaffa concentrating on the arena, we should have no difficulty disabling those on the fringe and recovering our weapons."
Adrenaline still pulsing through him, Jack gave a feral smile.
"Good work. C'mon, let's go get Daniel."
Jehen'u watched, emotion stripped from his face, as Ninan's lifeless body was taken away. You died well, Jaffa. Pride surged through him at the honorable death his young warrior had received, thus ensuring his reward with the god in the afterlife.
It had been a long and worrying time since the last supplicants had faced the challenge of his Jaffa, time during which-cut off as they were from the rest of their Lord's plan- ets-Jehen'u had begun to fear disaster may have overtaken Ra. But those thoughts were, of course, wrong, blasphemous even, and these new arrivals proved the affairs of their god went on as usual. And yet, the words of the third supplicant repeated with annoying persistence in his head. They were lies, although Jehen'u could not find a reason why the man would say such things. No. They were lies. All the same, it would be good to have their supply shipments resumed, too. He left the Arena of Honor and walked toward the containment field.
He nodded, pleased his initial assessment of the four new supplicants was proven correct. The young man who had spoken first-his accent strangely old-fashioned-had not seemed too willing to face his Lord's Trial; indeed his claim that he and his warriors wanted no part in it had made Jehen'u feel shame for him. But, when faced with the truth of his situation, the boy had acquiesced. The concerned looks darted the man's way, even by the woman, had confirmed this youngster was the leader in this little group -no doubt a newly matured godling seeking position with the greatest god of them all. His protectors were an odd group, to be sure: one ofApophis' Jaffa, a one-time first prime, now switching allegiance to one who would carry him to serve with a much worthier god; the older man, that one was pure warrior, lean body honed by years of fighting, a good man to have as protector; and the woman, near as quick and deadly as the man, obviously devoted to protecting the young lord. Neither she nor the man were Jaffa, not an unknown occurrence, but unusual.
He halted a pace away from the force-field, his blood stirring at the challenge ahead. Young the godling may be, but he should prove to be a worthy adversary, worthy enough to face Jehen'u himself. He waved a hand and the field was dropped. The young lord took a moment to realize it was gone, wrenched his gaze away from the tent his warrior had just entered and focused on Jehen'u. Blinking, he cautiously stepped forward and nodded at Jehen'u and his escort.
"Hello. My name is Daniel Jackson."
It was Jehen'u's turn to bl
ink in surprise. Without the forcefield's interference, he could sense now that this young man was just that-a man-not one of the gods, young or old. Nevertheless, it was too late to assign another warrior to face this man and it was still fitting that he, as fourth prime commanding this outpost, be the one to challenge the leader of the supplicants.
"You will come. Select your weapon." Jehen'u turned away, swiftly revising his assumptions about his chosen opponent.
"Okay, but if I'm going to fight you can I at least know your name?"
The Jaffa halted, staring at Daniel Jackson in bewilderment. "Why do you wish to know my name?"
"Because, in my society, it is polite to get to know someone a little before trying to kill them," he said with an apologetic smile.
What an odd thing to say. Jehen'u looked at him closely, then relented. "I am Jehen'u, son of Kelnat, Fourth Prime in charge of our Lord's Rite of Combat."
The young one bowed his head politely. "I am Daniel Jackson, son of Melburn and Claire, scribe, translator and peaceful explorer, from the planet Earth. I'm pleased to meet you."
"Why?"
"Why am I pleased to meet you? Because I am always happy to meet new people, to find out who they are and how they live."
"You are a spy?"
Daniel Jackson's eyebrows rose. "No. No, I'm not a spy. I'm an arc... scholar. I study how people lived in the past."
"What use is that?" Jehen'u asked, intrigued in spite of himself.
"Because, only by knowing the past are we able to avoid repeating its mistakes in the future. It's how all societies learn and grow," he replied, watching Jehen'u carefully.
Opening his mouth to say something, Jehen'u found no appropriate words and shook his head. "Enough. Come. Choose your weapon."
He led the way toward the weapons table, his opponent trailing. So, the battle was not to be with one of the gods. Well and good. The human must still be a formidable warrior to merit the concern and protection of such companions as those he had.
Daniel Jackson inspected the choice of weapons. "Jehen'u, we don't have to do this. We did not intentionally embark on this Trial. We came here by mistake, really."