• 1-Quest, Reversal In Time
• 2-Figment or Phenomenon
• 3-Dinner And An Invitation
• 4-Unforeseen Ritual
• 5-Reach For The Unknown
• 6-The Gathering
• 7-Friend or Enemy
• 8-Contest of Wills
• 9-The Trail South
• 10-Tula
• 11-Mirror That Smokes
• 12-Invitation To Dinner
• 13-Food for the gods
• 14-Decisions
• 15-Eye of a Hurricane
• 16-Disclosure
• 17-They Come
• 18-Spirit Guide
• 19-Confrontation
• 20-Let's Go Home
• 21-What Lies Ahead

Key: ****** Scene change,
Italics Thoughts

Summary: Duncan witnesses the sacrifices.

Warning: Graphic description of the actual sacrificial act.

Disclaimer: HL and its characters are property of Panzer/Davis.

The file of captives' stretched down the Street of the Dead. Their captors and other novice priests hurried them along. They were docile, for the most part. Duncan felt ashe whe were in a bad dream and that this entire macabre scene wasn't real.

As the first male victim reached the terrace at the base of the pyramid, he was shoved forward to begin the long climb to the top and his death. Duncan strained his vision to try to see the man's face. He was obviously a warrior in his own right, for his steps never faltered and his thin shoulders were braced, his head held high. His nude body had black stripesntednted all over it and bore the marks of thipphippings he'd received that morning. His and the others' heads were painted white, had black circles around their eyes and red circles around their mouths.

However, just behind him, came a woman who screamed and began to fight, trying break free. Just where she'd have gone Duncan had no idea, not with the milling throngs of Toltecs filling the plaza. One of the priests grabbed her by her hair and shoved her up the stair case.

One by one, they came. Some of the older ones fainted or lost their strength. In those cases, there were priests lining the steps who dragged them up anyway.

Duncan stared at the blood stained two feet high gladiatorial stone with its rounded point. It was positioned just a few inches away from the top step. Just beside it was another stone, the eagle bowl, shaped like a wheel. It lay on its side and had a shallow depression in the center to collect the blood and act as a drinking bowl for thn Gon God. Only the bravest captives and those who showed no fear to die were sacrificed on this stone.

The first man reached the top and was marched over and laid down on his back on the rock. Because of his fearlessness, he had been placed upon the other stone. The four Toltec priests each grabbed an extremity to anchor the man in place. Quetzalomeyocan lifted up a carved, wide bladed, obsidian knife. He chanted some words and then took the knife and cut a transverse wound in the left side of the chest. Ignoring the profuse blood that now covered his arms, he severed the arteries, veins and ligaments that anchored the heart and yanked it from the now fainted, soon to die, enemy warrior. He then held the heart up so that all could see the gift to the Sun God. Then, he tossed it into a nearby fire pit where anr prr priest would tend it until the fire could be seen from every part of the valley.

Meanwhile, Mica held a hollow eagle cane. He st int in the captive's breast cavity, where the heart had been, stained it with the blood, submerged it in the thick sanguinous fluid and then raised it in dedication to the sun and allowed the sun god to drink it.

Mica next filled a green bowl, that had a feathered rim, with the thick serum and handed it to the man's captor warrior, the Toltec who'd captured him. The warrior hurried back down the stairway, but stepped aside when the captive's body was shoved, head over heels, down the side of the pyramid until it lay violated and mutilated on the terrace far below. He would later claim the body and take it to his home.

On and on the line of captives stretched until Duncan felt sick and barely held in his stomach's contents. His frustration was greatest in that he couldn't do anything to stop the carnage. What was worse for him was it didn't seem to affect Methos in the slightest. This Immortal, the Horseman, was the total opposite of the gentle, caring man MacLeod had known and come to love.

The afternoon waned and still MacLeod stood behind Methos, unmoving, inaudible. He did, that is, until a young child of about eight years of age with long dark hair approached the stone. Only upon reaching the top step did she become aware of what was to happen to her. She began kicking, fighting and screaming at the top of her lungs.

It was the last straw for the Highlander. He roared and lunged for the blood covered Quetzalomeyocan. Reaching for the Immortal's throat, they rolled and grappled about the pyramid's top until at last the other five priests were able to drag him off of the Toltec Shaman.

"Why!? She's nae but a wee one! A child!" MacLeod yelled, continuing to struggle. He was only subdued when Methos hit him over the head with a stone club, knocking the enraged Immortal senseless. None of the others saw the regret in his eyes from having to hurt Duncan.
Enough is enough, MacLeod, he thought.
We're out of here.

Quetzalomeyocan held his bruised throat and stood up. "This is too much, Barbarian! You will die!" he barked.

Methos prepared to step forward, but Tescatlipoca's hand blocked him.

The Monarch held up a restraining hand. "Quetzalomeyocan! No! You will not have this man! He is mine!"

The Warrior Priest was furious but knew he had no other choice but to obey his king. He nodded and allowed several of Tescatlipoca's personal guards to lift the inert Scot's body and carry it to his palace. Once the king was through with him, he'd deal with the recalcitrant slave himself, no matter what Mica thought.

What was even worse for him, however, was to grasp Methos' apparent passivity. The man was heartless!
No, don't go there! I refuse to judge him! Just look where it got me with Kronos and the Horsemen. It had taken both he and the old man a very long while to just be friends again, much less regain the easiness they once had with each other.

There had to be a reason for Methos' presence here in Tula. Methos never did anything without a reason. At least that much he knew. The question was to find out what that reason was, and then talk him into leaving Tula and returning to Mesa Verde with him. Alone, he knew he didn't stand much of a chance of eluding Quetzalomeyocan, but with Methos with him, the two of them just might pull it off. Once Methos had left this place, perhaps he could talk him into leaving the continent, even if it meant his having to stay in this century. It would be worth the price he'd pay to remain with him.

Duncan's thoughts were pulled away when he heard the monarch's voice, announcing his return. They must be finished at the temple. He knew what that meant. He'd avoided Tescatlipoca's attentions the last time, but he didn't think he'd be able to do it this time.

MacLeod shrugged. He couldn't be any worse than Quetzalomeyocan! He'd survived him; he could survive Tezcatlipoca. Still, neither one could compare to Methos! Now, that old man knew how to make love!

Duncan blushed furiously. He couldn't believe he was thinking these things, not Duncan MacLeod, the indomitable heterosexual male! An ironic smile spread across his almost perfect features. He had come back into the 1300's to overcome Lemuel Priest's sick attentions. He had accomplished that goal, now that he thought about it. He was now able to put it all in perspective, it was over and done with, he'd survived.

Once again, he had Methos, the world's oldest Immortal, alias Death, alias Mica, alias Adam Pierson, alias mild mannered Watcher, to thank for it. "Well, well, well, how about that!" he murmured.

"Pahana, you are awake and waiting for me!" Tescatlipoca greeted as he descended to his bedroom. "Perhaps you will stay the whole night with me."

Mac dropped to the floor and bowed deeply. "Perhaps."

The king removed his headpiece and robe and sat down on the bed. "Stand up, lovely one, and take off your breech cloth. I wish to see your glorious body."

Duncan suppressed a sigh.
Well, what the hell, he he thought. Standing up, he quickly stripped off the scrap of material and waited for whatever else the mortal desired.

Tescatlipoca rose and slowly paced around the naked Highlander. The slave was lovely beyond belief with his broad shoulders, trim waist, muscular legs and thighs, an almost perfect back and a set of dimpled buttocks any Toltec woman would die for. But, the highlight of his attributes were his sex tools. His shaft was enlarging merely under Tescatlipoca's examining gaze and his twin pouches literally begged to be squeezed.

The king's reflections trailed off, and he instinctively reached out a hand to cup one of them in his palm. It fit perfectly. Did he doubt it wouldn't? "Tonight is the night, isn't it, my proud warrior?"

MacLeod blushed and strove to ignore his body's response to the king's perusal. "If that is your desire, Majesty," he managed to mumble, realizing he had no choice if he expected to live.

The king's hand remained anchored to Duncan's scrotal sacs as he drew him closer. "So magnificent," he murmured and leaned in to press his mouth to the slave's.

The Toltec deepened his kiss while his left hand roamed upward to Mac's nipple. Once he'd found it, he tweaked and rolled it expertly between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand, in the meantime, massaged and fondled Pahana's hidden kernels inside his pouches. Nor was his mouth idle by anyns. ns. Tescatlipoca's tongue wrestled with his slave's, demanding entrance to every surface within the Scot's fiery orifice.

Duncan melted under the monarch's onslaught and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling. He wasn't aware that he was now making noises, as first one portion of his anatomy and then another was caressed and kissed. Mac had to hand it to Tescatlipoca. The man knew his business. He wouldn't need brity ity and force like Quetzalomeyocan and Lemuel Priest both did. Still, he couldn't compare to Methos' skill. Even when the old man had taken him, seemingly against his will, it had felt like sheer perfection to him.

Somehow, the two men eventually ended up on the king's bed. The unending kisses came to a close when Tescatlipoca's enchanting lips streaked downward to Duncan's now hardened, weeping shaft. The Toltec at first swirled his tongue around his slit, daubing into its milky fluid every now and then. Tes nibbled its length and teased the distended veins. Not until he had Pahana groaning and writhing on the bed begging for relief, did he engulf it into his mouth.

It was at that moment that Duncan roared and bowed his back up in response. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he emptied his contents into Tescatlipoca's waiting mouth.

When he was finally drained, Mac collapsed back onto the bed, every ounce of his energy spent. "Oh, God," he panted.

"I knew you would be a monumental lover! One just has to handle you with gentility, not violence."

Duncan lifted his head with an effort. "But, what about you?"

"I will have my turn, Pahana, never fear." Having assured the Immortal, he instructed him, "Reach over and get the vial of oil on the table."

Duncan passed him the small container and awaited further instructions.

"Now, lie down on your back and open your legs."

MacLeod obeyed him and was pleasantly surprised when the king knelt between his outspread limbs and tugged Duncan's hips down until they fit snugly over his thighs. Only when he was satisfied with the slave's position did he dribble oil onto his rosebud opening and his own more than ready cock. So gentle and methodical was he that Duncan did not realize the king had entered him until he felt a slight pressure in his rectum.

Tescatlipoca felt Pahana clamp down and halted his forward progress until the slave once again relaxed. Only then, did he push further until he was at last buried within his depths. He then began thrusting his cock deep within the willing body, timing them to Pahana's own gyrations of his hips. Tescatlipoca soon elatelated his semen into Pahana and then collapsed onto the captive's exted ted body. The king again made love to him, only this time much slower and more prolonged.

As they afterward lay side by side on the bed, the monarch said, "You are in danger if you remain in Tula, Pahana."

Duncan grimaced. "Yes. Quetzalomeyocan will not be satisfied until he gets me up on that sacrificial stone."

The king lifted himself up on an elbow and gazed down on the Immortal with loving, black eyes. "I do not understand my deep feelings for you, Pahana. From the first time I saw you, you stirred my heart like no other has done. You must leave here. Now, tonight, with Mica. He wishes to join you."

Duncan's brown eyes dilated. "Did he say that, King Tescaoca?oca? Really?"

The monarch smiled. "He did not have to. His love for you is mirrored in his face. This afternoon, when you and Quetzalomeyocan were fighting, it was all he could do to stop himself from taking your side."

MacLeod grinned and said, "How about that."

"How about what?"

"Oh, that is just an expression, Your Majesty. I am glad. I care for him, too."

Having made the decision, the King clapped his hands and a guard immediately appeared. "Bring Mica here at once," he ordered the servant.

The next hour was almost a dream for Duncan MacLeod. Because in just that short span of time, Methos and himself, each with a bundle of food and weapons on their backs, began the long journey north. They were returning to what would one day be the American Southwest and Mesa Verde. There was only one minor problem for Duncan. How was he going to tell Methos about his wife, Rising Star?