by Carol Roi
"Lia," Methos stepped towards the form of his wife of so long ago. Without thinking he reached up to brush away her tears, feeling the soft texture of her skin beneath his fingers. "Oh, Lia. You needn't apologize. I should have realized how deep your pain was and talked to you. Instead, I sent you away, and ultimately, to your death."
The form before him shook her head, her thickly braided hair bouncing over her armored shoulders. "No, that was my fault. I wanted to teach him a lesson when I should've just killed him and been done with it." She paused to look at something off to her right, then her tear-filled brown eyes returned to him. "I haven't much time left. Methos, know this one thing -- I did and always will love you. Take care of Jan-Michel, will you?"
"I will." The vision faded and he was left slightly disoriented as he realized he was still holding his torch and that the fingertips of his left hand were damp. Tossing the brand onto the burning wood, Methos sent up his own prayer. "May Ares guard your path, Little One." The tightness in his chest, which he hadn't been aware of until then, snapped, and he was able to finally and fully grieve for his lost Student/Wife, unabashedly refusing to hide his tears and pain from the others gathered at the pyre site.
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Jan-Michel LaFollet watched as Adam Pierson turned away from the fire, his eyes pouring tears the older Watcher and Immortal made no attempt to hide. Taking a deep breath, Jan-Michel started to step forward, only to halt as Diandra moved toward the fire and threw more powder from her pouch onto the flames. The bright grayish blue smoke curling up into the air seemed to move as if alive, twisting in the slight breeze and turning to engulf him in its fragrant grasp.
Closing his eyes against the irritant, Jan-Michel felt himself transported to another place and time, vertigo unsettling his nerves and turning his world upside down.
"Jan, open your eyes. Please?"
The ghostly voice set his world aright again and he followed the gentle command. There, standing in the foyer of the mansion known as Hawk's Wind, stood Eolia. She was dressed in her finest gown, a creation of pure ivory silk that flowed over her body like water. "Lee? Where am I? What's going on?"
The mahogany-haired woman, whose long tresses were tightly coiled against her head in her famous French twist, smiled and floated toward him over the wooden parquet floor. "I had to see you one last time before I crossed over, Jan. To let you know I knew of your love for me, and that I was honored that you never let it interfere with our relationship as friends." Her pale, slender arm rose up as she approached him, and he felt the warm caress of her hand on his stubbled face.
"Lee... I... I couldn't act, not while Azir was alive. And afterwards, it just seemed too soon... " He paused as her fingertips came to rest on his lips, and he impulsively grabbed and kissed her hand.
"Jan, listen to me. I'm not really gone. I'll live forever in your heart, and within Diandra. I'll never leave you again." Her compassionate eyes, lightened to the darkest amber hue, grabbed his soul and her essence curled around his heart, soothing the ache that had lodged there since her death.
"But why, Lee? Why did you have to leave when you did?" LaFollet made no attempt to hide his pain from her, for she knew him all too well and would see through the subterfuge.
"It was my time. Be happy for me, Jan-Michel, for Azir and I are to be reunited." Her hand dropped away from his face and she turned to look at something, or someone, standing behind him. Turning slowly, Jan-Michel caught a glimpse of a tall form dressed in black and silver, with long jet-black hair flowing freely in a wind he couldn't feel. Azir. He'd come to claim his bride, his wife and companion.
Turning to face his lost love once more, he was confronted with the edge of her blade against his throat. "Lee?"
"You made me a promise, Jan, and I'm going to hold you to it. No more drinking. And you need to find another Teacher to instruct you in the way of the Game." Her blade disappeared, moving so fast that he couldn't see where she had hidden it. "I want you to live, Jan-Michel Wyatt LaFollet. Learn from my mistakes. Talk with Diandra or Methos or even young Blair if you ever have any doubts or questions. But trust Methos with your life... "
LaFollet snapped back to awareness at the sound of a log falling deeper into the pyre, sending sparks and flames flying higher into the blue vaulted heavens. Gone was the vision of "home" at Hawk's Wind Mansion, replaced with the stark reality before him. Bending his head in prayer, he whispered, "I gave you my word, Eolia, and I'll always cherish your memory. May God keep you in the palm of His hand and bless your final journey." And with that, Jan-Michel tossed his torch onto the pyre and returned to his place in the circle as tears started to flow down his face. He wasn't even aware that Adam Pierson, known to Eolia and Diandra as 'Methos,' had moved to stand close to him, offering support without encroaching on his personal space.
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There was only one person left to say his good-byes to Eolia and the pyre was almost fully engulfed in flames as the burning fire started to climb toward the shrouded body.
Jim Ellison watched, detached from his own emotions, as the others went through their little eulogies for Lee Eolia. Something had happened, just what he wasn't sure, to Diandra, Blair, then Adam, and now it looked as though LaFollet had slipped into some kind of stupor as he stood before the pyre. The man's eyes were open, but Jim was pretty sure that his hazel eyes weren't viewing the fire before him, but were locked on a sight only he could see.
When Diandra had stepped forward to throw more of the powered herbs onto the pyre to sweeten the smoke, Jim had tried to avoid the tendrils that drifted his way. Something inside him told him that the reactions of the others was tied to their inhaling the black smoke shot through with flecks of gold, silver, pink and blue, that curled around their bodies like a living entity. No matter where he stepped or turned, the sliver of smoke that had drifted his way seemed to follow him, not allowing him to avoid it.
The haunting scent of lavender and heather teased his nose, causing him to stop in his tracks, and soon, Jim was engulfed in the sweet smelling smoke. He felt his reality dissolving. Closing his eyes against the swimming effect that seemed to sweep over him, Jim found himself in a place he'd thought he would never have to see again.
The Temple of the Sentinels was bathed in green-blue light, and the sounds that greeted his ears were not the ones of water birds, waves, and the crackling of the pyre, but the sounds of the jungle. Exotic birds cried in the trees that stretched high over head, blocking the light of the sun and moving gently in a whisper soft breeze. His wandering gaze returned from his perusal of the forest canopy to see something move deeper into the Temple through the doorway. Jim was surprised to see the black jaguar appear in the doorway and sit, as if waiting for the Sentinel to join him. Join the cat he did.
The steps leading down to the pools were worn smooth, but not as smooth as they had been when he had chased Alex into the Temple months ago. The torches that lit the way gave off a feeble light but that never bothered him as Jim controlled his sight, his pupils widening to allow the light to be more than adequate. Cautiously, the Sentinel entered the pool room and was relieved to find no one was there.
A chill breeze blew across his body and, for the first time, Jim realized he was dressed in the garb he had worn while living among the Chopec. The tank top and camouflage pants were the same clothes he often saw his 'inner sentinel' wearing during the few visions he'd had in the past.
The faintest touch, like that of a moth's gossamer wing, brushed his face, and Jim turned to see Lee Eolia standing beside him. Her long hair was braided at the temples, woven with glass and gold beads while the rest hung freely, flowing downward over shoulders covered in light colored leather. A golden torc was clasped around her neck.
"This is you, isn't Jim? You are a Champion, a Watcher of the Clans, a Sentinel." Her voice tickled softly in his ea
rs.
"Yeah, at least that's what Sandburg's been telling me for nearly four years." He took a closer glance at what the woman was wearing. The leather sheath covered her from shoulder to knees and was topped off by a coarsely woven cape that reminded him of the Tartans that the Scotsmen wore. "Lee, what are you doing here? Why am I here for that matter?"
She refused to meet his eyes, instead answering his questions while gazing into the pools that sat side by side in the chamber. "I asked the Gods for a final boon, to be able to speak to those I had hurt one last time, to apologize to them."
"Lee... "
"No, Jim. I hurt you; you cannot deny that. By harming Blair, your Guide, I injured the Sentinel within you, nearly severing the bond that should exist between you." She walked over to the edge of one of the pools and sat down on the ledge, facing him, her face turned upwards so that her chocolate brown eyes finally met his own blue orbs. "I never should have lied to you. I knew the thief at QuestScape was an Immortal but I thought I could handle him on my own. Foolish of me, I should have known better."
The Sentinel sat beside the Celtoi woman. "Lee, I'm not sure I would've believed you had you told me the truth at the time, even if I do know Immortals like you and Diandra exist. I wasn't exactly thinking straight from the first time I saw you."
There was a change in the air pressure of the Chamber as the sound of distant thunder echoed through the Temple.
"You weren't the only one not thinking clearly, Jim." Her hand came up to caress his jaw, tracing the firm muscles there and following them upwards to his ear. "I'm glad I got to know you, to share a night of passion with you. Even back when I was born into this world, warriors such as yourself were rare gifts from the Gods. You are a very special man, James Ellison. And I'm honored that you consented to share a bed with me."
Returning the caress, Jim touched her one last time, knowing that this wasn't real, but a vision conjured to the surface of his mind. Still, he was determined to enjoy it. His hands gently flowed from her elbows up her arms to rest on her shoulders and pull her closer to him. "Lee, I am the one who was honored. I just wish I had gotten to know the real you, the woman that I can now see, the one you kept hidden from the world."
Her smile was wistful as she accepted his embrace, and he allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of her body one last time. How long the two of them sat there, curled in each other's arms while balanced on the edge of the pool, Jim couldn't tell. After a while, she broke away from him, tears falling from her eyes in silence as she stood up and walked to the edge of the second pool.
Jim watched, amazed, yet not surprised, as a dark skinned man of nearly his own height rose from the depths of the pool. The man was dressed in robes that reminded the Sentinel of the Arabs that he'd seen while stationed near Bahrain with the Army. The Arab held out his hands in greeting to Eolia, and she joined the man in the pool, standing in the water that came up to her thighs. Her smile for the man was radiant and her eyes reflected the joy she was feeling.
"Jim? This is Azir el'Sadih. My husband. I have to leave you now, but I cannot go until I hear from your own lips that you will try to patch things up between you and your Guide."
She held out a hand towards him, and he moved forward to clasp it within his. "Lee, I promise. What ever it takes, Sandburg and I will try to work through this." He let go of her hand and stepped back away from the pool's edge. "Go now. Complete your journey that will restore you fully to Azir."
Opening his eyes, Jim was a little set aback to see that he was standing near the funeral pyre, and the thought that he had spoken his last words aloud settled over him. Still holding his burning torch, Jim let lose a sad sigh, then with a heave tossed the brand onto the pyre, watching as it sailed through the air to land on the linen enshrouded body of the woman he'd come here to say good bye to. With a roar, the specially treated linen began to burn and the smoke and flame that rose from the conflagration seemed to twist into a strange fire-painting of the woman's face. A face that was smiling and serene, her hair blending flawlessly into the tongues of flame as they reached for the heavens.
Though he knew it had to be a trick of sound, maybe a piece of wood that hadn't completely dried out, Jim shivered as a voice cried out in joy, even as the vision of Eolia's face disappeared in the flames and was swept upwards on plumes of white smoke.
He could still hear Diandra chanting her song of mourning, but Jim had had enough. He turned on his heels in the soft loam of the clearing and headed back towards the cabin, only to be halted by Blair's hand on his shoulder. "What is it, Chief?" he ask, his voice sounding tired, even to his own ears.
The words had no sooner left his lips than the soft chanting that Diandra had kept up through the entire funeral stopped. Blair nodded towards his lady. "Okay, I guess we're done here. Jim? Did you see and hear what I did?" The student jerked his head back towards the still burning pyre, hinting without words just exactly what he was referring to.
Allowing his gaze to return to the burning object, Jim nodded curtly. "Yeah, I saw it. As for what we heard, I'm sure it was just a piece of wood that hadn't dried out completely, nothing more."
"Uh, huh. Right." Blair clasped his shoulder one last time before leaving Jim to walk over to where Diandra stood shivering in the cool wind that had started to blow in from the lake.
Looking out over the green-gray waters, he could just barely make out the squall line that was moving in. Carefully opening up his hearing, Jim could hear the distant thunder of the storm, much like the thunder he'd heard in the Temple of his vision. "Goodbye, Lee."
Facing back towards the small group that still waited, Jim saw that Megan and Blair had moved in to help steady Diandra. LaFollet looked just about like he felt, like he'd been pounded flat on a rock and left to dry in the sun. Jim's headache was back.
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Diandra opened her eyes to find the pyre nearly burnt down to ashes, and the sun beginning to set behind her. Blair grasped her arm as she took a step and staggered. "Damn...how long was I gone?" She felt Megan supporting her from the other side.
"A couple hours. Joe and Adam went down to the cabin, but the rest of us stayed," her partner answered.
She looked up then, first at Jan-Michel, then at Jim. Both men looked like they had been put through a wringer. "What in the hell was in that stuff you threw on the fire?" Jim growled. "It gave me a hell of a headache."
"I really don't think you want to know, Jim," Blair answered for her.
Dee slid her arm over his shoulder and leaned on him as they started toward the cabin behind Jim, Megan and LaFollet. Her stomach growled. "Goddess, I'm hungry." She shivered. "And freezing."
Taking off his jacket, Blair helped her into it. "Come on. I'll take care of you." He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek.
Smiling, Dee nuzzled him back. "I know you will."
Pausing at the bottom of the trail, Jim looked back up at them. "Hurry it up, you two. I really would like to sleep in my own bed and not on a cold floor tonight."
"We're coming!" Blair yelled back. Lowering his voice, he said, "I'm glad that's over."
Dee gave him a squeeze. "So am I."
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Adam made sure that Joe was comfortable in Duncan's cabin before he headed back up the trail to the burial site. He passed the rest of the party on the way, exchanging a few short words with them, telling them he'd catch up by the time they were ready to leave the island. He had one last duty to fulfill. One last, self-appointed duty for his Student/Wife that only he could perform.
The sun had nearly sunk behind the approaching squall line when Methos completed his task and headed back down the trail to the cabin. There, refusing to eat the sandwich Dee had saved for him, he helped Joe back down to the dock, and the mourning party took their leave of the island. The island would now hold very special
memories for him; one day he would have to return here. It was peaceful, serene, and now it held a small part of his heart, in scorched earth on a cliff.
Epilogue
Dee fumbled with her seatbelt as Megan pulled her Tahoe to a stop in front of the departing flights door at the Cascade airport. Hopping out of the SUV, she was heading around to the rear of the vehicle to grab her suitcase when Jim said, "Diandra, don't worry about it. Sandburg and I can take care of it. Go help Connor find a parking place." Shrugging, barely hiding a grin, Dee crawled into the passenger seat. This was working out better than she'd planned.
A few minutes later, Megan had parked the car in the covered garage, and the two women were walking back toward the terminal. They were starting across the covered walkway connecting the two structures when the companion paused, looked back toward the car, then at Dee. "You don't have your sword." The Immortal started to reply but Megan cut her off. "And don't tell me Sandy and Jim took it out of the back. I know you only put two bags in there, and neither one was your sword case. What in the hell is going on?"