Looking for Death

Danae

Disclaimer: Not mine…. Not making any money here. Just borrowing them with every intention of returning them intact.

Notes: This is proof that I have crossed the line into insanity. Yes, I have decided that I needed to write in another fandom. I don’t know why! It just happened! At any rate, I would like to thank my beta, Susan. I have teased her that since I couldn’t get her to finish a Methos story, I had to write one myself. <g> Just kidding, Susan! And this story is dedicated to her as she is a redhead and to my niece, Deldra. You’ll see why soon!As far as a warning, all I can think of is… there be sap ahead. There are also more notes at the bottom.

Early Fall, 335 BC

He was weary. The slave to his right tried to put more food in his face but he pushed her gently away. Alexander’s eyebrow raised and the Captain-General nudged his friend and second in command, Hephaestion and motioned toward him.

“What is it, Mathius? Is the food bad or just the foreign slave that serves it?” Hephaestion asked him, amusement coloring his words.

“Neither. I am simply tired.”

“It has been a difficult few months. Who knew the Thebans would be so stubborn? Or the Athenians so hospitable?” Hephaestion laughed and Alexander laughed with him.

But the man called Mathius did not feel like laughing. He felt instead like crying, screaming perhaps.

“Come, my friend, it’s over now. No one else will oppose us here. We need only show our faces, and they fall in line behind the throne of Macedon. Tomorrow, we pass through Delphi and then northward to home.”

“Alexander, you have no intention of remaining in Macedon and you know it. Persia awaits you.” He gestured grandly to the south. “Why do we even bother heading northward at all?”

“Ah, Mathius, you know me too well. Perhaps I wish to see the oracle. I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“The vast majority of oracles, my king, are old hags who have long since lost what little mind they had,” he said with a sigh.

“Not this one,” Hephaestion sat up and leaned toward him. “They say, she has hair the color of polished copper and eyes as black as the night. They say that she’s the daughter of Apollo himself.”

“Yes, and I am Apollo and I don’t remember having a daughter.”

“Blasphemy!” Alexander cried in mock outrage. “Mathius, you are a heathen. Lucky for you, I don’t care.”

“Lucky, indeed.” If the answer sounded just a little bitter, Alexander did not seem to notice. “I am off to my rest, unless you have need of me?”

“No, go, Mathius. I hope tomorrow finds you in better spirits, my friend.” The sincerity in Alexander’s voice made him feel guilty over his discontent.

“Thank you, my king.” He got up and left the tent quickly. He was halfway to his tent before he realized that the slave had followed him. He turned and confronted the woman. “Go away. I have no need of you.”

"But master, the king—" she started, fear causing her voice to tremble.

He raised his hand to stop her words. “Very well. Make yourself scarce and leave me be.” He continued on his way. Leave it to Alexander to think that he only needed a woman to make him happier. That it could be so simple, he thought bitterly. What he needed, he was forbidden to obtain. What he wanted was apparently out of his reach. It was the same thing he had wanted for years upon countless years. He wanted death. Once he had been Death itself: Death on a horse, Methos, destroyer of life, brother to War, Pestilence and Famine, one of the dreaded Four Horsemen. But he grew weary of his role, tired of being Death and simply craved it for himself. When he had left the Horsemen, he went in search of his final end. War after war, he joined, in the hopes that one day, a lucky strike would end his hateful existence. But it never happened. He had died more times than he could remember but it was never the final death. So his suffering continued.

As he flung himself onto his pallet, he smiled at the irony of it all. Death looking for death and finding only that he, of all creatures, could not find it. For Death was an immortal. He supposed that he could have found it in the Horseman camp. Caspian would have gladly taken his head, but to have nearly 3000 years of power and knowledge taken by that insane bastard would have been truly profane. Kronos would have done him the favor as well if he had known that Methos planned to leave, but the same applied. More so even with Kronos because the man had intelligence to add to his insanity, making him all the more dangerous. Caspian was merely one step above an animal and animals could be put down. Kronos was a man who would be very hard to kill. Then there had been Silas. He would have had to force Silas to kill him and the big man would grieve his passing. Silas, with his child’s mind, would mourn him as he did with the animals he so dearly loved. Methos did not want to cause his friend that kind of pain. So, he had left and wandered the world, trying to find that which eluded him. He had not found it yet, but he would continue to try. So far, he had fallen many times, waking to find himself in a pile of bodies or left on the battlefield for dead. He would move on to the next war then.

Eventually, his search had brought him here, to the army of Alexander of Macedon. It had been his intention to hide amongst the ranks of the swordsmen and place himself in the heat of every close battle but the foolishness of one commander drew him out of the shadows and into the light of Alexander’s gaze. The man had been a fool. Methos wanted his own death but he did not want to see others die needlessly along the way. The man’s plan was idiocy. He spoke up and caught Hephaestion’s attention. To catch Hephaestion’s eye was to catch Alexander’s eye and before he could protest, he had been elevated to the status of commander. From there, he was quickly made General and found himself inside Alexander’s inner circle. Slaves tended him and he had his own tent. It was almost as if he had rejoined the ranks of the Horsemen. The irony of that nearly caused him to vomit what little dinner he had eaten.

However, he had to be fair. Alexander was not as ruthless as Kronos and he was not insane. He was a good man, generally speaking. His army adored him. Methos even genuinely liked him. Those who submitted to his rule were treated kindly and fairly. Those who opposed him were decimated. Like the Thebans. Six thousand dead, nearly thirty thousand sent to the slave markets. Was it any wonder that Athens was so hospitable? Or any of the other towns and cities they had traveled through since Thebes?

So Alexander wanted to see the oracle. He laughed to himself. He had seen the oracle before. Years before, as he passed through with another conquering army, he had seen the mad old woman, intoxicated on vapors of some sort, spouting the army’s doom. Surely, she would be dead, but some equally mad old woman would have taken her place, and yet another her place by now. He turned his gaze to the silent slave in the darkened corner of the tent. She had hair black as the night and eyes the color of earth. Not unattractive but Methos did not want a slave in his bed anymore. He wanted a woman, loving and tender, with a mind of her own, that wanted to be in his bed. He had sworn never to use a woman against her will again, not to use her simply because she could not say no because of his station or hers. He had had enough of that. He tried to smile at her. “Sleep well. You are perfectly safe here.”

“You need nothing, master?”

“You are new here?”

“Yes, master.”

“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

She hesitated then answered, “Yes, master.”

He smiled again. He hoped that it had a kind appearance. “The king doesn’t allow cruelty to the slaves here. Particularly to the women. You are a slave but you may not be abused without reason. And I have no reason to abuse you, nor desire to do so. Good night.”

She was confused but also relieved. She lay down slowly on the ground, lying on her side so that she could use her arm as a pillow for her head and Methos cursed his stupidity. He got up and removed the top layer of his bedding. “Get up.”

Relief fled and her fear returned, but she did rise. Methos laid out the animal skin blanket on the ground where she had lain and gestured to it. Her shy smile gave him the first warm feelings he had had in a very long time. She moved to lie down again and he took her hand to help her. “Thank you, master.”

“You are welcome.” He was blushing. He rolled his eyes at himself as he turned away. Three thousand years old and a woman’s simple gratitude could make him blush. He quickly returned to his pallet and lay down with his back to her. Suddenly, however, he wanted to ask her a question. He debated the wisdom for a moment, but it was obvious that his curiosity would outweigh his wisdom in this. “What is your name?”

“Amaryllis, master.”

“Mathius. Here, you can call me Mathius.” So very unwise. He knew it even as he did it, but he did not want to be called master. Never again did he want to be called master. He closed his eyes and prayed to no god in particular that he would not dream.

Indeed, the people of Delphi welcomed them, pledged their faith and loyalty to Alexander even before he managed to dismount inside the city walls. He swore his protection of the city and praised their wisdom in allying with Macedon. A feast was called and Alexander sent bowmen from the ranks out to help the Delphians hunt for meat. In the meantime, Alexander asked question after question about the oracle. By the time the people of Delphi were done describing her and all her talents, Methos was sorely tempted to laugh in their faces. The only thing, it seemed, that the woman could not do was fly.

“Come! We have time before the feast. Let us go see this oracle for ourselves!” Alexander stood, slapping Hephaestion on the shoulder as he did. “Come, Mathius.”

“I’d rather not, my king.”

“I insist! Let us find out what our future holds!”

Methos knew that he would not relent. He frowned but rose all the same to follow the King of Macedon to the oracle at Delphi. A few others followed as well. Hephaestion fell in beside him. “You don’t wish to know what your future will be, Mathius?”

“Truthfully, I did not want to make the trip. I tire of moving. I wanted to sit a while and be still.”

“Perhaps once we are at the temple, you can find a place to be still, as you say.” The man threw one arm across Methos’ shoulder. He had already had a bit to drink.

Methos shook his head. “It is a waste of time and energy, Hephaestion.”

“Perhaps. But at least she should be nice to look upon!” he shouted and the men surrounding them laughed. “I have never seen hair the color they claim for her. Do you think that it really could be that color?”

“I suppose so. I just hope you are not too disappointed when it turns out that her hair may have been that color some thirty years ago.” Again, the others laughed.

“Ever the doomsayer, Mathius!” Alexander boomed.

“It is my lot in life.” Methos bowed slightly.

“One day, my friend, I will find something that makes you happy. When I do, I will make sure you have it. You have that promise from your king.”

“Thank you, my king.” Methos managed to remain out of the various conversations for the rest of the trek to the temple. As they neared it, all conversation ceased and the group seemed to become properly reverent.

“Oracle!” Alexander called out as he mounted the steps. She appeared at the top of the steps so suddenly that Methos was almost convinced of the magic the townspeople claimed of her. This was no mad old woman either. “Polished copper,” Alexander whispered and it was. Her hair was just that color. It flowed down over her shoulders to below her breasts and as she stood there, it was as if she was indeed the daughter of a god. She was beautiful. But she was not the daughter of a god at all. And only Methos would know that fact for truth, because he felt it. The tingle of immortality touched his mind. It was faint, however. This woman, little more than a girl really, would one day die and be reborn immortal.

“I am the oracle. Who calls for me?”

“Should you not know, Oracle?”

She smiled. “Prophecy is prohibited today.”

Methos held his breath. Alexander did not like to be told no.

“Surely, you can make an exception for your king.”

“So you are Alexander of Macedon. I knew of your coming. I have but one thing to tell you, King Alexander. Do not go to the Far East. It will mean your death.”

“Tell me more of this.”

“I cannot. Come tomorrow.” She started to turn and go back inside the temple but Alexander bounded up the steps and caught her by the arm.

“I will not die in the east. Tell them that.” Methos knew that only he and Hephaestion were close enough to hear the whisper. Methos moved closer.

“Should I lie?” she whispered back.

“If you want to live,” Methos warned her softly.

“You would kill me?”

“I would not wish to, but I will do as my king orders.”

“You are different than the others. I can sense it.”

“Just say what he wants.”

“You are invincible, my king!” She pulled her arm away. “Now, leave me in peace. All of you.” She ran into the temple and closed the door.

The trip back was silent, strained. Alexander had been shaken by her decree. The men with him were unsure how to react or what to believe. Hephaestion spent the time trying to reassure Alexander that all would be well, that she was obviously crazy.

Finally, as they reentered the city itself, Alexander announced loudly, “Yes, I think Mathius was right! The woman is mad. And yet, she did speak one truth! I am Alexander of Macedon and I am invincible!”

Cheers nearly deafened Methos as he tried to make his way out of the middle of the impromptu celebration that erupted around the king. The feast preparations were nearly done and soon there would be food and drink and perhaps they would all forget about the beautiful oracle of Delphi.

But they did not. Methos listened as the rumors spread. There were rumors of her beauty and rumors of her insult to the king. When one man suggested that she should be taught a lesson, Methos could stay silent no longer. “You will forget the oracle and you will not go near the temple! Is that clear?!” His outburst caused a stunned hush to fall over the table where he sat.

“Yes, General Mathius.” The man in question folded too quickly. He was known for his stubbornness and tendency toward impulse. He would speak to Alexander about him.

He realized also that the locals were beginning to take notice of the man’s ranting and those agreeing with him. They were becoming uneasy. To them, the woman was the daughter of a god. He rose from the table and made his way over to Alexander and Hephaestion. “My king, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, Mathius. You are too serious! Have more wine.” Alexander was drunk and Hephaestion with him.

He smiled and gingerly pushed Alexander’s cup from under his nose. “I will, thank you.” He would have to deal with this on his own. He turned back to his table only to find that the man was gone, along with at least five others. He cursed his own stupidity. He had to find them quickly. As he moved to do so, however, Hephaestion grabbed him and pulled him down into a chair and plopped a woman down in his lap. He sighed in exasperation and got up causing the woman to fall to the floor. Instantly, he regretted the move. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

“Yes, General. Thank you,” she told him as he helped her up.

“My king, I have something that I must attend to. If I could be dismissed?”

“No! You have to stay and celebrate my immortality! I am invincible, Mathius!”

Methos closed his eyes and wiped one hand across his forehead. He was trapped. He would have to wait now until Alexander forgot about him before he could slip out. He sat down heavily and pretended to drink the wine placed in front of him. Ten minutes later, when Alexander and Hephaestion began to discuss the merits of remaining unmarried, he saw his chance to escape. He raced to the stable and found his horse. Not wasting time to saddle the animal, he jumped on bareback and sped toward the temple. As he topped the hill where the temple sat, he saw them spilling out of the temple door and scattering into the night. “Halt!” They ignored him and disappeared. He let them go. He was well aware of the ringleader. He could make the man talk later. His priority was the oracle.

He snatched the reins so hard that the horse reared and he slid off the back rather than actually dismounting. He ran up the steps of the temple and through the open door. Once inside, he came to an abrupt stop. He closed his eyes and swore in a language long dead. Nausea swept over him in waves and he swallowed hard to try to control it. He reopened his eyes and moved to her. She lay in a far corner, half sitting against the wall, her clothes mostly torn away. Her copper hair was now red with her own blood and the floor under her was rapidly becoming the same shade. He fell to his knees next to her, his eyes seeing her and yet seeing so many other victims simultaneously. His victims. It had excited him once to do what those men had done. Now, it only sickened him. She would die, if she was not dead already. Then she would heal and revive, a newborn immortal. He lowered his gaze. Somehow, it seemed so very wrong to be staring at her as she lay there in the spreading pool of blood. His eyes burned and it was annoying. He rubbed them and was surprised to find them wet. Before he could become too caught up in the revelation that he still could feel, a soft moan reached his ears and looked up to find her eyes open and fixed on him.

“Help me, please.”

There was nothing he could do. She would die. “I can’t. There’s nothing…”

“Your sword. End it. I beg you, sir.”

Her eyes were as black as night and they glistened in the firelight inside the temple. Pain and sadness shone out of them. He nodded and pulled his sword. He positioned the tip of the blade over her heart but then he faltered, seeing the face of another woman that he brought into immortality. Cassandra. He had loved her, he could now admit. Slave, he had made her. Free, she had made him. Free of the madness of Death. Black eyes turned blue, reddened copper hair turned dark brown. His hands shook. Her blood stained hand caressed his face. “You are not my killer. You are my savior.”

Perhaps she was a seer after all. She saw his soul and his torment. “Thank you, Oracle.” He took a deep breath and pushed. He felt the blade slice into her chest and through it. Only when the blade struck the marble wall did he stop. She smiled at him and died. He removed his sword and moved to the opposite corner of the eerily silent room to wait. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling. It was not until he heard the sudden inhalation that signaled the return of life that he was willing to look at her again. As he did, he realized that he had left her uncovered. Swiftly, he removed his cloak, even as he crawled across the floor to her, and draped it over her. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. She was confused. “It’s all right. I can explain it. Just take a moment to regain your strength.”

“Are you a god?”

Methos was not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “No, Oracle. I am not a god.”

“How did you do this? The pain is nearly gone. The wounds are gone. What are you?”

“I am the same as you. Or rather, you are the same as me.”

“They say I am the daughter of Apollo. I have always known that was nonsense and yet, I am alive and I should be dead.”

“We are hard to kill.” He could not help the amusement in his voice.

“Apparently so. I don’t wish to lie here, sir. Will you help me?”

“Of course.” He should have thought of that as well. Naturally, she would not want to lie in a pool of cooling blood, especially if it was her own. He did not give her the chance to rise. In one fluid movement, he lifted her and rose from the floor. He carried her through the door behind the altar. There he found her living quarters. He lowered her to the bed. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes. What does all this mean?”

“It means that you will need a teacher. It means that your life will change.”

“My name is Deldra. What is your name, sir, so that I may know my savior?”

“My name is Methos. I am no savior. Rest. When I return, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“Methos?”

“Yes?”

“Your cloak.” She lifted it with one hand as she drew her own blanket over her with the other. He tried to take it from her, but she held on. “Would it stop you if I asked you to stay?”

“No, Oracle. They must pay. Alexander must be told. You must be avenged.”

“Methos, if you die, who will teach me?”

“I will not die. That peace is forbidden to me. I do not deserve it.”

She shook her head. “If you teach me, Methos, I will take this sadness from you, if I can.”

“So, what happened?” Joe asked him as he handed another beer to his melancholy friend.

“I rode back into Delphi and killed the bastard that led the attack, but not before I got the names of the others. Alexander was a good man for his day. The idea that someone in his army had raped and butchered, not just a woman, but a holy woman was more than he was willing to overlook. He executed them all, slowly, painfully, in full view of the whole army as a warning. He didn’t like what she had to say but he respected her in his way.”

“Did you go back to the temple?”

“Of course. Someone had to teach her. Alexander was convinced that I had come unhinged by what happened.” Methos laughed. “I can imagine why. I must have looked quite insane riding into Delphi, covered in blood, waving my bloody sword and demanding justice. I was screaming like a banshee. Then after it was over, I went back to the temple and refused to allow anyone in and refused to come out. Finally, I came out and spoke with Alexander and Hephaestion. They spoke to me like one would speak to a simple child. They were going south to Persia, but I didn’t have to go. I could take some time. Hephaestion said that the gods had touched me that night. A gentle euphemism for lost my bloody mind. I took the opportunity just the same. Looking back, I know that my reaction was colored my own outrage at what I had been for a thousand years, not what those men had done specifically. I did to that man what I believed someone should have done to me. After all, what did I care for the woman then? She was a stranger really.”

“And Deldra? What happened with her?”

Methos sighed. “She learned. She was a natural, actually. She really was a seer and she only got stronger once she was immortal. I always accused her of using her ‘sorcery’ to defeat her opponents, to which she would reply, ‘My teacher says to use every advantage.’ What could I say? She had me pegged.” Even as he answered he could see the look of exasperation on Joe’s face. “You’re the watcher. Go look her up.”

“You know what I’m asking.”

Methos smiled. “I loved her. We stayed together for years. We never actually married but we loved and we lived. I taught her, and she healed me. It’s funny actually. I went looking for death and found life.”

“And then?”

“And then it ended.”

“What happened?”

“Kronos happened. He was looking for Death, too. He found Deldra first.”

“And he killed her.” Joe’s voice reflected the sadness that Methos knew he sincerely felt but he had it wrong.

“No. She had him on his knees when I got there. I watched as she drew back for the final blow and I couldn’t let her do it. It’s like I told MacLeod. If I judged him guilty and deserving death, then I judged myself as well and I had just begun to finally live. She spared him, but she was so angry. She knew the whole story, you see? She knew it all and she couldn’t understand why I would want him to live. She told me that she would never again help me where Kronos was concerned. Two days later, she was gone. I looked for her for a long time, but then I stopped. I realized that she had done all she could for me. The rest of the work was mine to do and she deserved better than I could give her. By the time I had my head on straight again, she had a new life. From time to time we would run into one another and recapture what we had for a while, but Kronos remained between us. Then she died. Some unknown, worthless bastard immortal took her head. I miss her still. She was the great love of my life, Joe. She put Death to rest and taught me to live. Well, enough of that. Thanks for the beer.” He got up from the barstool.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Adam.”

“Good night, Joe.”

On the other side of the world, a copper-haired woman watched the sun rise. As the sun’s first rays cut through the dusky sky and hit her face, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the long neglected connection to her savior, her god, her teacher, her love. She smiled. “Methos,” she whispered. Her mind made up, she turned and went to her closet. She pulled out her suitcase.

End?

Notes: Alexander was in Greece during the year of 335 B.C. He is rumored to have visited not just Delphi but other oracles as well. One did tell him that if he went east he would die, and supposedly, the oracle at Delphi did tell him he was invincible. I just toyed with the facts a little for my purposes. <g> Otherwise, I have tried to portray Alexander pretty close to the way he is depicted in history. The battle at Thebes has a few different sets of statistics attached to it, but I chose the ones that were repeated in more than a few of the resources I found. As far as the relationship he may or may not have had with Hephaestion, I didn’t feel the need to address it.