Brothers in Arms

By Wesa

AU: Immortal Witches' Chronicles version of Highlander

Disclaimer: Highlander, the series, concepts and characters, are the property, copyright and trademark of Gregory Widen and Rysher - Panzer/Davis. No ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by the use in this work. This work constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This work is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.
Category: Adventure/Angst/Romance

Rating: R. Slash OC/OC, Methos/OC Non-graphic.

Note: This story has no relationship to the Highlander episode of the same title. It was inspired by the Dire Straits song "Brothers in Arms," but does not follow the same storyline.

By Wesa.

The battle had been long and grueling. As with most battles there was no real victor, and there were few survivors on either side. In the darkness of night, half a dozen scattered fires flickered around the battlefield. Most warmed more survivors than did the one nearest the lake, but that one warmed four swordsmen with more in common than the others, though not all of them knew it yet.

Caspian passed the wineskin to Kronos. "A great battle!" he said again. None of his companions had even a scratch, though Kronos had had to rinse his tunic out in the lake because it was covered in the blood of an enemy. Luvik had taken a severe blow to the head, falling to the ground as if dead, but had shortly risen and fought like a berserker until there were no more of the enemy within reach. Caspian had been only slightly wounded in the battle, and was feeling extraordinarily fortunate and pleased with himself. "A battle worthy of a bard's tale!"

The other three men looked at each other, chuckling. "It was all right," Methos said, reaching lazily for the wineskin as Kronos passed it on.

"How about it, Luvik?" Kronos asked. "You've been everywhere and done everything. Was that a battle worthy of re-telling?"

Luvik took his turn with the wine-sack before replying. "I'm sure it will be by the time Caspian gets through with it," he chuckled, getting to his feet and walking purposefully out into the darkness.

"Where're you going?" Methos asked. "I thought we were going to get a tale."

"Gotta piss first," the answer drifted back out of the darkness.

"Why do you defer to the boy?" Caspian asked Kronos, irked at Luvik's condescending manner. "You have twice the years on the battlefield he does."

Kronos chuckled, glancing at Methos. "He's older than he looks, is Luvik," he replied. "We should decide what tale we want him to tell."

Methos raised his brows. "Maybe where he learned to fight like that," he suggested.

"Or his first battle?" Kronos offered.

"Maybe about the gods that keep him safe," Caspian said as Luvik returned to the fireside, shivering and holding his hands out to the flames.

Luvik's lips twitched into a wry smile, but he shook his head. "See that?" he asked, nodding toward the nearly full moon that rose over the trees on the far side of the lake. "Tomorrow night is Wintersnight. The lake goddess will be wanting a sacrifice." He cast a sardonic look at Methos, who had nearly choked on the wine at his words. Methos no longer made sacrifices to his gods any more than Luvik did, but he knew that aside from the horses there was only one sacrifice here worthy of a lake goddess.

"Is the lake goddess the reason you were able to get back up after that blow to the head?" Caspian wondered.

"In a way," Luvik said.

"Then we must make a sacrifice to her, Luvik," Caspian insisted excitedly. "If she's so powerful on your side, we can't anger her."

"No," Luvik agreed, "it's not a good idea to anger her." He looked from Methos to Kronos and back to Caspian. "I angered her, and she took my wife from me."

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Their hunt finally successful, Teirtu and Luvik returned to the village, the stag tied to a long pole between them. Teirtu had the lead, and Luvik studied his friend's broad shoulders, narrow hips, and rangy, almost gaunt form. Most of the village verged on starvation most of the year, except during the autumn festival, and Luvik's childhood playmate was no exception.

Tonight the Wintersnight festival began. The wood for the bonfire had already been laid. Tonight they would honor Muck Olla, the god of the bog who kept them safe from witches and evil spirits, with feasting and dancing - and lots and lots of sex. Tomorrow night belonged to the Frowe, the goddess of the lake who ruled the fertility of the land, but exacted a terrible price in return.

Fertility. Today while they lay together in the hide waiting for the deer to come to the lake to drink, Luvik had spoken to Teirtu about his inability to give his wife a child, and Teirtu had not been averse to the idea of standing in for him. Luvik smiled to himself. Who would object? His wife was beautiful, even six years into their marriage. Tonight was the perfect time for Teirtu to make love with Fainche. If anyone even remembered the next morning, they wouldn't connect the yearly celebration with the birth of his child the following summer.

Fainche had had to consider it for two days when he had suggested this solution to their childlessness to her. She wanted to take the blame upon herself, but Luvik was well aware that none of his other lovers had ever quickened. Perhaps with another man standing in for him he might yet be a father, he'd argued, and explained that they wouldn't be furtive about it. Unchaste behavior was the norm at the feast, and no one would think twice about her having sex with her husband's best friend.

They took the stag to the great fire pit where a boar was already roasting; another hunter had had good luck today. Luvik and Teirtu exchanged glances, smiling ruefully at each other. If they had been more focused on their hunting, they might have been first to bring in a kill today.

They helped to spit the stag before clasping each other's forearms and going their separate ways. Teirtu's wife, Etain, waited for him in front of their small house, her belly swollen with their third child while the older ones played near the midden. Teirtu was fertile, all right, and with luck Fainche would catch tonight.

Fainche stood just inside the door of their house, wringing her hands in anxiety. "What did he say?" she asked as soon as he stepped inside.

Luvik smiled; even at twenty-one and anxious about cuckolding her husband, his wife was still the most beautiful woman in the village. He took her into his arms and stroked her blonde hair while he kissed her soft, full lips. "To be invited to lie with the most beautiful woman in the village - what could he say? What would any man say? Especially when he knows her husband won't be angry. He agreed, of course."

Fainche shivered in his arms. "I would rather lie with you only."

He trailed his kisses across her cheek and down the side of her neck. "Etain is with child. Again. Perhaps Teirtu can give you what I cannot." He paused and looked into her eyes. "You are my wife, Fainche, and the feast of Wintersnight won't change that. If Teirtu can do for you what he does for his own wife, then I shall wear my horns with pride and raise the child as my own. When one I love so well can give my own beloved what I cannot, how could I do otherwise?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at him. "And if I don't get with child? Will I have to lie with him again?"

"My love, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to." Luvik stroked her hair back out of her face. "But if I can't give you a child, then we will never have any of our own ... and I know you want children." He kissed away her tears. "It'll be hours until the procession honoring Muck Olla, and I'm starving. Have we any meat?"

**********

That evening, as darkness fell, Luvik's father, Cuinn, led the parade for Muck Olla, wearing a white robe and a mask made from the head of the stag Luvik and Teirtu had killed that afternoon, its antlers still in place. The people of the village followed him from house to house, carrying torches, begging at each door for food. As each family joined the procession, Cuinn led them to the next and the next, until everyone in the village had joined the procession, and then he led them out into the forest, through the glen, and up onto the rocky hillside.

The people formed a circle around the wood that had been stacked there in preparation for the ceremony. As the full moon rose, they took their torches and lowered them into the wood, which flared high and quickly.

Cuinn began the chant that would drive off witches and other evil spirits. "Great Muck Olla, hear our plea! Keep the beasts of field and forest, and the children of our hearths safe from the evils that prowl the night. Drive out the witches who befoul our lands, and free us from the hags who ride the night mare!" He repeated his chant twice, now with the people of the village joining him in his exhortation to the god of the bog. Then Cuinn began the second part of the traditional chant. "Great Muck Olla, the Frowe demands blood to keep the waters of lake and stream thick with fish and eel. Show us which of us will sate her bloodlust!" He threw a stone he had marked with his own rune into the bonfire. "Choose me, and I will go to the Frowe, that my village may not starve."

Everyone in the village followed his example, throwing their marked stones into the fire and repeating, "Choose me!"

For a long moment everyone was silent. Then Cuinn's apprentice, a woman of the far north named Kanetsidohi, helped him remove his mask and his robe, and throw both onto the fire.

The entire village followed suit, disrobing and throwing their clothing onto the fire. "Eat!" Cuinn proclaimed, gesturing to the boar and the stag, both now roasted and sizzling on their respective spits. "Drink and make merry!" he added, pulling his now-naked apprentice close; she didn't appear to disapprove. "Tomorrow, one of us will die."

----------------------------------

"So what happened?" Caspian asked eagerly. "Did your wife get with child?"

"We never had a chance to find out," Luvik said softly. "The next morning, we couldn't find the stone she had marked. We combed the ashes, but neither her stone nor mine was anywhere to be found."

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Dawn came, and in ones and twos the people of the village returned to the hilltop where the bonfire had burned, where the adults had honored Muck Olla with wild abandon, and adults and children alike had danced and feasted on the boar and the stag supplied by the hunters. But the Druid had made a promise, and in the mists of dawn the people returned to learn whose blood would feed the Frowe.

Luvik and Fainche were not the first to arrive, staying late in bed, reassuring each other of their love. When they returned to the hilltop, seven or eight other people were already there, sifting the ashes for the marked stones.

Teirtu gave a sigh of relief upon finding his wife's stone. "For a moment, I was afraid Muck Olla had chosen Etain," he said.

"Have you found yours?" Luvik asked, scuffing through the ashes with his toes.

"Yeah, first thing. Want to go fishing upstream later?" He batted away a dragonfly that buzzed too close to his face.

Luvik listened to the sad wheep of a golden plover, then shook his head. "Fainche and I haven't found our stones yet," he replied, crouching to sift the ashes with his fingers.

"You haven't found yours?" Teirtu repeated. "Etain!" He waved his wife over. "Help us find Luvik's and Fainche's stones."

More and more people joined the search, finding their own stones, but never the ones Fainche and Luvik had marked. By midday, the entire circle of ashes had been sifted carefully. Luvik and Fainche stood together, holding each other tightly, while Cuinn regarded his adopted son and his wife with sadness and pride.

"Is it possible, Cuinn?" Kanetsidohi asked dubiously. "Would Muck Olla choose two for the sacrifice to the Frowe?"

The honking of geese overhead drew everyone's attention upward, and the odd shape of the double line of birds confirmed the verdict of the stones. "Two birds are missing from the spearhead," Cuinn sighed. He turned to Luvik. "My son," he said softly, "it grieves me to do this."

Luvik shook his head. "Must Fainche also be given to the Frowe?" he asked. "She might be with child."

"Even if she were, she would be given to the Frowe," his father told him. "The choice is made, Luvik. Take Fainche home, and divide up your possessions. We will feast tonight before the moon rises."

**********

In their small house, Luvik thrust Fainche's clothing angrily into a pack. "The Frowe doesn't need both of us," he told her. "You must return to your father, Fainche."

"But your people, Luvik... I do not wish to be the cause of their deaths. They'll starve if the Frowe is displeased," Fainche objected.

"I know several of your father's thanes wanted you. Perhaps one of them will accept you as wife."

"I do not wish to be wife to any other!" Fainche objected, her hands propped upon her hips. "Perhaps this is why we have not been given children. We cannot do this, Luvik."

"I cannot stand by and watch you be killed!" Luvik cried out, flinging the pack across the single room in which they had lived together for six years. "You have too much life in you, too much -" His voice broke, and he sobbed. "Fainche, I can die for my people. I could die for you. But to have you die with me is more than I can bear. Please. Return to your father, and live."

"Your drighten would declare war on my people," Fainche said softly, moving close to him. She traced her long fingers down his chest. "My people would die, too, not just yours. No, Luvik. Be strong, my thane."

"It's my fault," Luvik murmured into her hair as he gathered his wife into his arms. "I offended the Frowe by offering you to Teirtu."

"The Frowe wants people to make children," Fainche agreed, "but you did try to give me children yourself before you asked Teirtu to try in your place. Nor do I see why the Frowe would object to you sharing your body with your best friend. It was done out of love, wasn't it? Just like with me?"

"You know it was."

"Then how could the Frowe object?" Fainche asked reasonably. She reached up and combed her fingers through his fiery hair. "My love, we don't know what awaits us after we go to the Frowe. She may have a place for us where we do nothing but love each other and produce child after child. Perhaps that's why she wants us to come to her together." She kissed him, and then snuggled into his arms, nuzzling her nose into the curve between his throat and his shoulder. "I love you."

Luvik held his wife tightly, wanting to extend their last afternoon as long as possible.

**********

The sun could not be made to stand still in the sky, however, and slowly the hour drew near. Fainche and Luvik presented most of their belongings to Teirtu and Etain, then attended another feast, this one held in their honor. Neither of them felt like eating. They held hands and gazed at their friends and relatives as if committing each of them to memory. At moonrise they stood and led the procession to the lakeshore.

They allowed Cuinn and Kanetsidohi to bind their wrists behind them with the traditional red cord. Then Cuinn took Fainche out into the water. Standing knee deep in the lake, Cuinn called to the Frowe. "Lady, hear us! Muck Olla has given us your requirements, and we obey, though you demand of us our very hearts. We bring you two sacrifices this year, my own son and his wife, daughter of the drighten of the Bog Land. In return we ask that you grant us peace, good hunting, and the birth of many strong children. Great Lady, accept our gifts of blood!" With that, Cuinn wrapped another length of the red cord twice around Fainche's neck and pulled on the ends.

Fainche had been brave as long as she was in no pain, no distress, but now the only sounds she could make were choking, gagging sounds. Her mouth opened and her eyes bulged, and she struggled unsuccessfully against Cuinn's greater strength.

"No!" Luvik lunged forward, his wrists still bound, and struck his father with his shoulder, knocking the Druid into the water. Still holding the ends of the cord, Cuinn dragged Fainche under the surface with him. "Fainche? Fainche!" Luvik called, searching under the water for his wife.

"Cuinn!" Kanetsidohi rushed into the water, too, and helped the Druid to his feet.

The old man rose, still pulling tight the cords that throttled Fainche. Her head came up, too, and Luvik wished it had not, for his beloved wife was clearly dead: her face was nearly black with blood; her jaw had fallen open; and her swollen tongue protruded past her teeth.

"Fainche..." Luvik moaned. He turned his eyes up to his father. "She's dead, Cuinn. Let her go."

Cuinn unwrapped the cord from Fainche's neck, and sent her body into the deeper water just another couple of feet further out, then turned to Luvik with tears in his eyes. "It's time for you to join her."

Luvik sobbed softly. "Yes, Cuinn. Send me to be with Fainche now. Please, Father!" He knelt in front of the Druid, facing out across the lake toward the rising moon. "Lady, take me!"

Cuinn wrapped the red cord around his son's neck and pulled it tight.

Luvik felt the cord bite into his throat, felt the pressure build on the right side of his head, the pain build under his ear and at the back of his skull. He tried to call out to Fainche, but could get only a strangled croak to pass his lips. As his vision began to darken, fear gripped his heart. Was this blackness all there was?

He struggled, fighting for life, frightened of the black nothingness that threatened to envelop him. "No! Father, please, no!" Or at least that was what he tried to cry out. Instead he heard only a roaring in his ears as the darkness closed in around him.

**********

Luvik woke with a deep rasping gasp, then began to cough, rubbing his throat. After a moment he became aware that he was wet and cold, that his clothes were soaked with lake water. The moon floated high overhead, as silvery and cold now as it had been warm and golden when it rose.

"I brought you some clothes," Kanetsidohi said, startling him. He looked around to find she was drying her own clothing in front of the fire. "The goddess has rejected your sacrifice, and the people of your village won't understand. You can't stay here."

Luvik looked around, suddenly frantic. "Fainche? Fainche!"

"The Frowe accepted her sacrifice, Luvik," Kanetsidohi said gently. "She's gone. One day you may join her. Or, you may never die again, if you come away with me."

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"It took Kanetsidohi most of the rest of the night to talk me into going with her, and then only after Teirtu saw me and started yelling to the rest of the village that my fetch was walking. I knew then that I had to go with her as she said. She taught me what the Frowe had done to me, and how I had to protect myself. You want to see a great warrior? Find Kanetsidohi, gydhia for the Frowe, vikti, and warrior. I wear the mark of her favor." He displayed the red scar on his shoulder. "And I cannot die."

"You ca -" Caspian stared at the man who appeared to be several years his junior.

"My story was a long time ago, Caspian. I'm around 700 years old. I think."

"Because you wanted to join your wife?"

"Because of what I am. Even had I wished to be sacrificed to the goddess of the lake, she would have refused my sacrifice, which was why she took Fainche in the first place. My wife died because I couldn't."

Caspian shook his head. "This can't be real," he objected.

"It's real," Methos said.

Caspian looked at each of his companions' faces. "Kronos, is he telling the truth?"

"Only one way to find out," Kronos chortled.

His face reflecting both greed and fear, Caspian considered the options. "The ritual - We have a feast tonight, with the stones in the fire and - where would we get the women for sex?"

Methos waved the wineskin at the other fires around the battlefield. "Surely some of those men have their women with them. Go find a couple."

"Only a couple?" Kronos asked, getting to his feet. He liked the way this was going.

"Methos is more interested in the wineskins we find than the women," Caspian chuckled.

"If you bring back some pretty ones, maybe we'll take turns," Methos allowed. "I'm not betting you'll find any pretty ones. Following soldiers brings them into contact with rough men. It's hard on their faces."

"Always the aesthete, is Methos," Kronos observed as Caspian rose to join him.

Caspian clapped his arm around Kronos' shoulders. "As if we were going to look at their faces anyway. Come on, Kronos. Luvik, are you coming?"

Luvik shifted his eyes from Methos to Caspian. "I'd better stay with him to make sure he doesn't stumble and fall into the fire. Bring back some more wineskins, too, if you find any."

As the two younger men headed off toward the nearest campfire, Methos protested, "I'm not drunk."

Picking up the single remaining wineskin, Luvik walked over and sat beside him. "Would you like to be?" he offered in a low voice, leaning close and raising the skin to Methos' lips.

"Don't know how they can fuck a woman without once looking at her face," Methos grumbled. "I like a pretty woman, young and strong and agile. A woman who's been beaten into submission doesn't move while you're on her. She might as well be dead." He took another swallow of wine as Luvik raised it to his lips, moving close once more. He looked at the older man with a critical eye. "By Hades, I'll wager you're better looking than any woman they bring back. Prob'ly smell better, too."

Luvik grinned. "Aw, Methos, you say the sweetest things," he murmured.

"And that hair! Luvik," Methos told him seriously, "you have the prettiest hair I've ever seen on anyone, man or woman. Why do you keep it braided back all the time?"

"Perhaps I'll unbraid it for you sometime," Luvik promised with a soft breath into Methos' ear. "But while Kronos and Caspian are out procuring tonight's entertainment, we should find some suitable stones to mark for throwing into the fire. Come with me."

"Follow you anywhere," Methos said, struggling to rise when Luvik did.

"If you weren't too drunk to know what you're saying, I'd hold you to that," Luvik told him, catching his arm as he stumbled.

"I'm not drunk," Methos repeated. "Luvik...about your friend Teirtu..."

Luvik bit his lip, keeping his face turned away from Methos. It wouldn't do to let him see that he still felt Teirtu's loss as keenly as Fainche's death. "What about him?" he asked, more gruffly than he intended.

Methos hesitated. "Nothing," he replied at last.

Damn. "I didn't mean to snap at you," Luvik apologized, leading the way through the bushes down the small bluff to the lakeshore. "What did you want to know?"

"He - He was more than a friend, wasn't he? You kind of skimmed over it in your story, but I got the idea that maybe you were...lovers, too? It's not usual among the people around here."

Luvik allowed a small smile to curve his lips. "Nor was it usual among my people, but I was adopted by the village Druid. Cuinn was a vikti, a wizard, as well as being our priest, and though he refrained from having women, except on the first night of Winternights, he didn't refrain from sex. Sometimes when a vikti from another village came to cast spells with Cuinn, he would spend the night in Cuinn's bed. When I told Teirtu about what they did, he was as curious as I was, and we...tried it for ourselves. Of course, we couldn't have children that way, so when we found girls we loved, we married them. After that, we were lovers only on hunts and occasionally when Etain was too big with child."

The soft lapping sound of the waves nearly drowned out the next question. "What about...since you died?"

"Mostly mortals. Mostly women," Luvik replied off-handedly. "It can be uncomfortable to be denounced. What about you?"

"Since I died? Almost all women. Mostly mortals. I've even been married twice, both times to mortals."

"What about before you died?" Luvik was curious now.

"I was a slave. I did as I was told."

Luvik winced at the anger in Methos' voice. "Was it always bad?"

Methos stooped down and picked up a handful of small stones from the rocky beach, then started taking one at a time out of his left hand and throwing them as far out into the lake as he could. Finally he relented. "No. Not always. As I got older I didn't appeal so much to those who wanted to dominate me, and more to those who wanted a limber youth to fuck. When I began to sprout body hair, there were both men and women who wanted me to fuck them. That was better. I liked being the one inside the other person. And there was one...He never forced me to do anything...But he never let me come until I pleasured him somehow. He would touch me, caress my body until I'd do anything to come, but unless I gave him the same pleasure he wouldn't let me finish. After he got me hard, he'd ask me what I wanted him to do to me, and then I had to do it to him first. He taught me a lot. He never hurt me. And then he bought my freedom. Suddenly, I could go anywhere I wanted to go, do anything I wanted to do.

"I stayed with him for nearly ten years. He taught me to farm, to raise horses, and to use a sword." Methos' face hardened. "Then one day, he killed me. When I woke up, he was holding me. He explained what I was, what he was, and how to kill other Immortals for their quickenings."

"Your first teacher was also your lover." Luvik smiled. "Kanetsidohi became my lover, too, but she made me wait until my training was finished." He grinned. "A couple of hundred years ago I got a message from her to bring her two strong horses, broken for riding. Turned out she needed my help with another project, too, a young woman who had become Immortal almost on Kanetsidohi's doorstep. She wasn't a virgin, but she might as well have been; she was that skittish. Once broken though, I think she would meet even your high standards for a mount. She's strong and agile, permanently young, and as an added bonus, extremely vocal in her appreciation." He winked at Methos. "She could probably wear us both out."

Methos laughed. "Perhaps we should give her the opportunity to try. Where is she now?"

"The last time I heard from them, they were going east. She wants to see a dragon."

"Too bad. Well, we'll just have to make do without her." Methos took the last of the stones in his hand, a flat pebble, and skipped it across the surface of the lake. "See? I told you I wasn't drunk."

Luvik caught his arm and turned him to face him. "Good," he said, and pulled Methos into his arms, kissing him firmly, unsurprised when Methos kissed back. When he felt the younger man twitch and harden against him, Luvik drew his head back and asked hoarsely, "What would you like me to do to you, Methos?"

**********

"Great Muck Olla," Luvik intoned, feeling silly. However, Caspian needed the ritual to be as nearly identical to Luvik's story as possible, and so Luvik called upon Muck Olla. "Hear our plea! Keep the beasts of field and forest, and the children of our hearths safe from the evils that prowl the night. Drive out the witches who befoul the land, and free us from the hags who ride the night mare!" As he repeated the chant, with his brother warriors joining him, the two women brought back to their camp by Kronos and Caspian seemed impressed that their presence had been required in Luvik's traditional worship.

"Great Muck Olla, the Frowe demands blood to keep the waters of lake and stream thick with fish and eel. Show us which of us will sate her bloodlust!" He threw the stone he had marked with his rune into the bonfire. "Choose me, and I will go to the Frowe, that my people may not starve."

Methos, Kronos, and Caspian followed his example immediately, throwing their marked stones into the fire and repeating, "Choose me!" The two women were more reluctant. Kronos explained to them that they had not been brought there to be sacrificed, but that if they didn't participate in this part of the ritual, they couldn't participate in the next, more pleasant part. Reluctantly they cast the stones Luvik had marked for them into the fire, calling out, "Choose me!"

"Eat! Drink and make merry!" Luvik cried out. "For tomorrow, one of us will die!" With that, all four men disrobed and threw their clothing onto the fire, then Kronos and Caspian each tore the clothing from their selected woman and threw them onto the fire, much to the women's dismay. The loss of their clothing seemed less important in the next moment, when the two men turned and forced them to the ground, obeying Luvik's implicit exhortation.

Methos and Luvik watched for a few moments, then reached for one of the skins of wine their companions had brought back upon their return. Not sure how their companions would react, they would wait until Kronos and Caspian slept before satisfying their own desires.

The next morning, Luvik was the first to awaken, and as soon as he'd dressed in his other tunic and pants he moved to the firepit to sift its ashes. He was still there, five stones lined up along the edge, when Methos joined him, wrapped in their bed furs. He looked at the five stones, ascertaining that one of them was indeed his, then asked, "Whose is missing?"

"Caspian's."

"Why does this not surprise me?"

Luvik looked up at him, frowning, and produced the missing stone from his pocket. "Who took mine, Methos?" he asked. "Who took Fainche's?"

**********

Caspian blanched at the news that he had been chosen as the sacrifice.

"You were the one that insisted we couldn't offend the Frowe," Kronos told him. "You had the idea that we should follow Luvik's tradition. Who did you think she would want?"

"I thought maybe ... one of the whores," he indicated the two women Luvik had sent back to their own men with his thanks, wrapped in two of his own furs and each wearing a golden necklace, enough wealth for them to get new clothes to replace what had been burned and to provide for them well into their old age. They were well out onto the field of battle already, on their way back to the separate camps from which Kronos and Caspian had stolen them.

"That isn't how the Frowe works, never has been." Luvik cut a piece of meat off the auroch hindquarter that had served as their feast the previous evening, skewered it with his sword, and held it over the fire to warm it. He could eat cold meat if he had to, but he preferred it hot. "And if you want the gift with which she has honored me, you must surrender yourself to her will."

Kronos chuckled, cutting his own slice off the haunch. "You should be careful what you ask for, Caspian. Sometimes you get it." He ambled over to the pile of furs where Methos had gone back to sleep, prodding the lump with his toe. "Hey, Methos, did you like the whores we brought back last night?"

Methos groaned. "Kronos, what is it with you and dawn? It is not time to be awake yet."

"Maybe we should let him sleep," Luvik suggested. "He had a hard night last night." He grinned to himself as the lump of furs suffered a coughing fit.

"The whores weren't that good," Kronos replied with a puzzled frown.

**********

The day passed slowly. By the time Methos rolled out of bed around mid-morning, Caspian had already given most of his belongings to Kronos for safe-keeping. He'd entrusted his horse and riding gear to Luvik.

Methos shrugged. "That's all right. I'd just have to give it back to you when the Frowe rejects your sacrifice." He yawned and stretched. When he caught Luvik watching the movement, he had to lower his head quickly to hide his smile. Caspian was too young, too naïve to catch on, but Kronos was quicker. He'd figure it out in no time.

It wasn't that he was ashamed, far from it. He just wanted to protect this new feeling from Kronos' prodding for a little while.

Luvik had cut some long hairs from his horse's tail, and was braiding them into a cord. Caspian wasn't so naïve he didn't know what it was to be used for, and he eyed Luvik and his project with some trepidation but made no objection.

The sun crossed its meridian and began its descent. On other autumn days the bright, warm afternoons passed too swiftly, while the four friends fought alongside anyone who would pay them to do so, against whoever their enemies were, or saddled their horses and rode to the nearest village to seduce the maidens. Caspian tended to go for the lonely ones, as long as they were reasonably pretty. A few kind words and they were happy to spread their legs for him. Kronos and Luvik always got the prettiest ones, the ones that were the pride of the village, and they sometimes traded if they tired of their chosen bed warmer. Methos couldn't resist a challenge; if a girl told him no, he had to have her, and would concentrate all of his considerable charm to bending her to his will. Such afternoons and evenings passed swiftly.

Not so today. While Luvik worked at braiding a cord of the appropriate color from his horse's reddish tail, and Caspian watched him with growing apprehension, Kronos chafed at the inactivity, growing even more restless and irritable than he usually was.

Methos found himself teasing Luvik mercilessly. When he cut a piece of meat, he squatted near him to warm it in the fire, his back turned. When he stood after eating, he stretched provocatively, moaning softly in pleasure at the movement and turning to look at Luvik though half-lidded eyes as he did.

Luvik hesitated in crafting his cord to watch Methos display his body to him, then bit his lower lip and bent his head, concentrating on his task.

Kronos cocked his head curiously. Luvik had already admitted he was as attracted to men as to women, and Kronos knew for certain that his whore hadn't gone anywhere during the night. He couldn't quite see Luvik taking Methos against his will, though, not without losing his head for it, and Kronos wondered idly what it would be like. Would it be as good as with a woman? He smiled to himself. He would have to find out one day.

Finally the sun began to set, and Luvik told Caspian to lead them down to the lake. While Methos and Kronos stopped on the shore, Luvik followed Caspian right into the water. There he completed the ritual just as Cuinn had done so many years before, calling out, "Lady, hear us! Muck Olla has given us your requirements, and we obey, though you demand of us our very hearts. We bring you the sacrifice you require. In return we ask that you grant us peace, good hunting, and the birth of many strong children. Great Lady, accept our gift of blood!" With that, he wrapped the braided horsehair cord around Caspian's neck and pulled it tight.

Caspian had not been raised in the same belief system, so although he feared Luvik's gods, he feared death even more. He fought, struggling desperately against being strangled. Finally Methos and Kronos waded into the water, too, and Methos pulled Caspian's fingers out from under the cord where it tried to bite into his flesh. Kronos was more direct. With one blow of his fist, he stunned Caspian. The boy would know what was happening, but he was unable to fight any more, and soon his face darkened and his tongue swelled and protruded from his mouth.

Luvik held the cord a few minutes longer, then pushed Caspian into the water, cord and all. The three men turned and waded out onto the shore. "You should wait for him here, Kronos," Methos said, "the way Kanetsidohi waited for Luvik. We'll help you gather wood for a fire."

"Do I get to teach him then?" Kronos asked eagerly. "Kanetsidohi was Luvik's teacher."

"And later on, my lover," Luvik laughed. "Do you also wish to take on that role?"

"You two seem to think it's all right. Maybe it would be worth exploring." Kronos grinned at their expressions. "Did you think I wouldn't guess? Go on. I'll gather my own wood and bring Caspian when he comes back."

Luvik looked at Methos. "You heard him," he said with a grin. "Let's go get these wet clothes off."

**********

Caspian gasped, choking on the lake water he drew in instead of air, and fought his way to the surface, gagging and spitting.

"It's about time," Kronos called from the shore. "I'm almost out of wood. The sun will be up in another hour. Hurry up, let's get back to camp."

Caspian followed Kronos, his teeth chattering against the cold. "I'm going to kill that bastard Luvik," he declared.

"Keep your voice down," Kronos hissed. "And you might want to re-think that. I'll teach you what I know about being an Immortal -"

"What? You, too?"

"And Methos," Kronos affirmed. "Now be quiet."

As they crept into camp, Caspian paused, looking at Methos' sleeping place. "Where-?" He didn't finish the question, suddenly noticing the larger than normal lump under Luvik's blankets, with both a dark mop of hair and a fiery one protruding from the far end. "Oh." He looked at Kronos. "Do I have to -?"

"Not tonight. Now shut up and go to sleep. I want to go somewhere warmer tomorrow."

**********

Two of the four riders paused at the river, where it flowed south toward the Great Sea, while the other two forded the river, their horses lunging through the water. "Come with us," Methos said. There was a feeling bothering him, a feeling that if he once lost sight of Luvik, he'd never see him again.

Luvik shook his head. "Caspian is unhinged," he said, "and Kronos is only making it worse by killing him over and over. Come north with me. Kanetsidohi and Wesa will return to Sessrumnir any year now, and we can see which of us can outlast them."

"Sounds tempting ... but I have to go with Kronos on this one. I'd like to be warm for a while. You'll always be welcome, at my fire or in my bed."

Luvik nodded. "And I'll bring the witches south with me when they return." He leaned far over in his riding tack. Methos did the same, and they kissed. "Have a care that Caspian doesn't take your head, Methos," Luvik murmured. "If he does, I'll have to take his, and I don't really want that insanity inside me."

Methos smiled and nodded. "And you take care that your witches don't develop a taste for your quickening, or I'll have to take their heads. And there are better uses for women."

"Methos!" Caspian called from the far bank of the river. "Are you coming?"

"Better go," Luvik said gently. "See you soon."

Methos kicked his mount down the slope and into the water, turning to look back just as his horse plunged into the rushing water. Luvik raised his hand in farewell, then turned his steed to the north. Methos nearly followed.

"Methos!" Kronos bellowed. "Come! There is gold to be had for warriors such as ourselves."

Gold. Methos would give all the gold in the world to be assured of seeing Luvik again. But he had a really bad feeling that he never would.

"Methos!"

He shook himself. Who could defeat Luvik in battle? It was silly. And with all that gold, he could buy his lover finery to go with his flame-red hair. He smiled, thinking of getting him all dressed up, only to undress him again. Women would do, until Luvik returned. He watched until he couldn't see him any longer, then prodded his own horse with his heels, urging him across the swift-running water. "Let's go," he told Kronos. "I hear the caravans to the south are particularly rich this time of year."

"Then by all means, let us ride!" Kronos laughed. He whipped his horse into a gallop, with Caspian and Methos right behind him.