Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Quest, Reversal In Time	By : highlandgirl Category: G through L > Highlander Views: 1888 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Rating: PG

Character: Duncan

Key: *** Flashback,
Italics Thought, ****** Scene change

Summary: Mac recalls his first acquaintance with Tom White Feather and the mysterious occurrence that accompanied it.

Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, but they belong to Panzer/Davis.

Chapter 2

Figment or Phenomenon

The hot, southwestern desert wind whipped Duncan MacLeod's dark hair across his high cheek-boned face. The Highlander brushed it out of his eyes and grumbled, "I should've tied my hair back."

He steered the T-Bird onto the graveled portion of the two lane, black ribbon of road in northeastern Arizona. Reaching across the seat to his overnight bag, the Scot rummaged in it until he found a hair brush and an elastic band. He quickly brushed the rebellious mane and secured it with the tieback.

Mac squinted into the noonday glare of the sizzling August sun before replacing his sunglasses. The star that provided the universe with its light was much hotter here than in the northwest. The desert was a barren land, but it also had its beauty in saguaro cacti, scrub brush, juniper trees and sandstone rock that reflected the solar rays into different shades, comparable to the time of day. America's southwestern region was attractive and fascinating. The simmering Southwestern desert country in midsummer produced a rare thunderstorm, but for the most part, the weather was hot, dusty and humid.

Taking a moment to drink some water, he then shifted gears and drove back onto the highway toward his destination.

MacLeod looked forward to the Hopi Snake Ceremony. It was a sacred rite that he was very interested in seeing. Mac couldn't help but think of the first time he'd met Tom White Feather. He'd been a guide for the Park Service at Mesa Verde National Park in southwestern Colorado.

* * *

White Feather and MacLeod were headed for one of the deserted pueblo villages in Mesa Verde. An old acquaintance of MacLeod's, Herman Attaborough, was in charge of the facility. When he saw the Highlander, he invited him to go along with Park Ranger Tom White Feather as he explored one of the tucked away pueblo ruins that were plentiful throughout the park.

Leaving before daylight the next day, the two men rode horseback to a remote section in the southeastern part of the park. White Feather was astride a bay gelding, leading a pack mule. The Scot sat atop a piebald mare. As they rode, Mac noticed an occasional circling black buzzard, in addition to jack rabbits and other small animals. He also spotted isolated pockets of adobe ruins. Those were especially fascinating to him, which was why he had readily agreed to the adventure.

"Thanks for bringing me along, Tom."

"No trouble a'tall, MacLeod," the wiry Hopi Indian ranger replied. "I don't get many folks who want to make this kind of trip. Least ways, those that can physically endure the Four Corners country in the summer."

White Feather glanced at his companion and asked, "Do you know much about the pueblos, Mac?"

"Not too much."

Tom nodded and explained that the pueblos were actually adobe apartment houses, hewn by hand, centuries before by the Anasazi Indians, or 'ancient enemies' as the Navajo called them. He then went on to tell him some of what was known regarding the Anasazis.

They'd been riding for an hour when Tom looped his horse's reins onto his left arm and removed his weather stained Stetson hat. He grabbed a red bandanna from his back jeans' pocket and mopped his broad, sweat-soaked forehead. Twisting himself in the saddle, he perused the tourist.

The tall, handsome Scotsman road easily in the western saddle. His legs rested comfortably in the saddle stirrups, but he was still alert in case his horse made a skittish movement. He sat his saddle with the ease only garnered by long hours on horseback. His expressirownrown eyes were protected from the desert glare by a pair of black framed sunglasses. A slouch brimmed, beige western hat sat low on his forehead, protecting his face from the heated glare of the sun. Tom didn't know very much about this quiet Highlander, but he did not doubt the man's ability to defend himself and those around him.

One strange thing about MacLeod was the Japanese sword he carried in a scabbard on his saddle. Tom knew the weapon was not merely a decoration. The calluses on the man's broad hanestiestified to many hours of practice.
Oh, well, Tom thought to himself.
It takes all kinds. Personally, he couldn't see a sword helping him if a rattler or a cougar happened across his trail.

MacLeod and White Feather rode steadily southeast, passing through a few of the many arroyos and washes dotting the southwestern corner of Colorado. The blistering, overhead sun reminded them of the lunch hour. Mac and Tom ate cold sandwiches and drank cool water they'd brought with them.

When he was finished, Mac grabbed his canteen and empty lunch sack and crossed over to his horse. The mare was chomping bunch grass under the meager shade of a mesquite tree. The animal swung her head around and nipped at a horsefly biting her left rump. She stomped the hard baked ground and switched her long tail to brush off the constantly irritating flies. The mare noisily snorted and nudged her velvsoftsoft white nose into MacLeod's jean shirt upon his approach.

"Hi, girl," he murmured and patted the animal's neck. He doffed his hat and poured a little of the water from his canteen into it and allowed her to drink.

Tom watered and cinched his own horse's girth. Swinging easily up into the saddle, he waited while MacLeod mounted the mare. "We'll be reaching the ruins in another half hour, Mac. It's tucked away in a corner of the next canyon. I found it by accident last fall but haven't had a chance to check it out."

"I wonder why no one's examined it before now, Tom?" Mac queried, joining his friend.

The Hopi shook his head. "That's nothing new, Mac. We frequently find ruins that've been hidden away by time and weather. The site itself's not so big, but it has a kiva in pristine condition."

"Sounds interesting," MacLeod answered. "Just tell me what to do."

White Feather laughed. "Oh, I will. Mainly, I'll need you to help keep an eye out for rattlers and such. They love back areas like these. They probably think it's theirs anyway. We're the trespassers, not them."

The two men rode up to the multiple family dwelling. It was hidden behind some rocks, which back then, was probably a cave. The Scot could tell a landslide had washed away the overhanging rim. The two men tethered their horses and grabbed two ropes and their canteens and proceeded to work their way down the shale and sandstone cluttered slope that led to the centuries deserted ruin.

Very little remained of the apartment like dwellings, but as Tom had said, an intact kiva lay near what must have been an open shelf all those long years ago. The Hopi carefully eased himself onto the flat dome of the Anasazi temple and peered inside the single opening in its rooftop, which provided the only light source to the subterranean room. Tom's unerring vision made out a fire pit to the side of the opening. He also could barely see the sipapu, or what the Old Ones had called the entrance to Mother Earth. The Anasazi and a host of their present day descendants believe that spirits arise from the center of the earth and through the small hole. They not only reveal themselves, but also give commands to the people.

Shoving a flashlight into the tool belt around his hiphe Ihe Indian dropped a rope and began to shimmy down its length into the kiva. Once on the dirt floor, Tom switched on the light and flashed it around the sacred ruin. There were numerous markings on the walls, all of which he'd study at a later time. He motioned for the Scot to join him.

MacLeod easily reached the bottom of the kiva and stood in openmouthed awe. He was astounded at the thought of a people, an extinct generation, having eaten, drank, worshipped and lived exactly where he was standing. The Anasazi had ceased to exist centuries before even his own birth in 1592. Mac would've liked to share that tidbit with Tom, but the Hopi had no idea of MacLeod's immortality. He hoped the occasion wouldn't arise that force him to reveal himself. He trusted the man to an extent, but it was knowledge White Feather didn't need to know.

The two men walked around the interior, viewing the different painted images still visible despite the ravages of time. Duncan kept noticing the image of a woman dominating the drawings.

"I wonder who the woman is? The one in all these paintings," MacLeod asked.

"I have no idea, but the Anasazi were matriarchal. In other words, the women owned and ruled everything," Tom answered.

A look of mild surprise formed on the Highlander's face, before one of understanding replaced it. "Of course, women could have children and. . ."

Tom chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, and the men couldn't .You got it."

As MacLeod continued to stand in the holy place, he eventually became aware of a feeling of presence. It was as if someone with a long life line were there with him in the kiva. Yet strangely, the Scot did not experience the usual headache and tingling effects indicating a nearby Immortal. Mac shook his head to mentally clear the cobwebs. No, the impression, the essence, of someone or something encompassed him. He attempted to ignore whatever it was; it was probably all in his imagination. He did, that is, until he felt a pair of cold wispy lips press against his own. He jumped. "Did you feel that?" he almost shouted to White Feather.

The Hopi turned and stared at him. "Feet what? What are you talking about, MacLeod?"

Duncan flushed as a shiver coursed through h&quo"Uh, nothing specific, Tom." His baritone voice trailed off, "It's almost as if we weren't alone."

"I think you've been down here a little too long, Mac. Now you're fantasizing things."

As Tom continued to take measurements and photographs of the interior, MacLeod walked slowly around the circular underground holy room. He studied the pictographs, the pictures drawn on the adobe walls by the Anasazi priests hundreds of years ago. Ever so often he'd glance behind himself as if half expecting a woman to be standing behind him. He eventually noticed a pattern to the ancient drawings. A woman with flowing black hair was pictured in many different scenes. Sometimes, she sat in a chair with men surrounding her feet. In another one she was embraced by a tall, long-haired warrior that, for some strange reason, was painted white. Beside the crudely drawn white figure was the sign of infinity, a figure eight on its side.

"How curious," he murmured. "Tom, look at this. What do you make of it?" he asked and pointed to the drawing.

White Feather crossed over to the Scot and peered at the crude painting.

"Hm, it looks as though a white man visited the tribe, someone that lived forever." Tom chuckled, then quipped, "Maybe it was a God or something. Don't think I've heard of any of us living forever, have you?"

MacLeod swallowed a smile and mumbled, "No, I don't believe so."

"Well, C'mon, Mac, it's gettin' late. We better make camp for the night and git an early start in the morning."

White Feather replaced his flashlight in his belt and moved to the rope. Easily scaling it to the surface, the Ranger waited until MacLeod joined him. The men then began to scale the unstable canyon incline to their horses. Halfway up, a fragile ledge Tom stepped on gave way. Tom grabbed forearbearby bush, but it jerked out of the loosened soil. Rolling end over end down the slope, his body careened into Mac's .Both men tumbled back down the hill more than twenty feet below to the ruins. Tom landed heavily onto one of the pueblo's roof tops. He cried out when he felt his right lower leg break from his fall.

MacLeod careened into a jagged tree stump, ripping a deep, nine inch gash in his left thigh. Blood spurted out of his wound and quickly saturated his jeans. Dirt and gravel clung to his hands and knees and the left side of his face was scraped from the slide. Duncan pressed a hand to his injury in an effort to slow the blood flow until it could begin healing on its own. He gingerly raised himself up and swung his head around looking for Tom. He saw him lying like a broken doll over the edge of one of the pueblo rooftops a few feet below him. Although his own leg wound and scrapes were painful, MacLeod's immortal healing was already closing them. Mac maneuvered himself and half slid, half fell the rest of the way to the Hopi.

White Feather was awake and, unfortunately, had witnessed MacLeod's immortal healing. His mouth now gaped open in shock. "How did you do that? What's with you?" he stammered in disbelief..

The Highlander shook his head. "Let's get you back up top, and I'll tell you later."

MacLeod ran his hand over the Ranger's other limbs to make sure he hadn't any other injuries. He didn't see any except a few scrapes where he'd collided with the loose rocks. Mac checked around to find something to splint the man's broken leg. Not seeing any nearby trees or useable wood, he asked, "Tom, any ideas on what I can use to stabilize your leg for the trip back?"

White Feather raised onto his elbows and pointed toward the cliff. "I noticed a couple of dead trees up top," pointing toward the horses. "I've also got a roll of tape and gauze in my saddle bags for emergencies." He grimaced as a sharp pain stabbed him in his leg.

MacLeod nodded. "Will you be all right until I get back? I'll climb up and get the stuff and come right back down."

The Ranger attempted a painful laugh and nodded his head. "Sure, Mac, go ahead. I'll be fine. Oh, by the way, my pony is an old cutting horse. If you loop one end of the rope around the cantle, he'll back up when I whistle."

"I hope you're right. I'll be back as soon as I can." The Scot untied the dangling leather thong binding his hair and stuck it in his pocket. He'd need it to tie Tom's leg to the splints. He then brushed his shirt-clad arm over the already healing scrape he'd received on his face. Leaning over, Mac massaged his still painful lacerated thigh which was now completely healed.

"Oh, Mac?"

MacLeod turned around and faced his new friend.

"I still want to know how you managed to get well in the blink of an eye." He shook his head. "I've never seen that before."

Duncan grinned and answered, "No, I'll just bet you haven't, Tom. I'll tell you later." Mac glanced up at the steep cliff he had to again scale. "Right now, I've got to get us out of here."

It took him almost an hour to slowly pick his way up the unsteady slope to the horses. Once he was there, he crossed over to the trees Tom had mentioned and broke off two lengths by bending the brittle wood and stepping on them. He checked the Hopi's saddlebags and removed the needed supplies. Stuffing the dressings inside his shirt and securing the wood to his back with a piece of rope, the Scot led White Feather's horse near the edge. He looped the extra rope and tied it to the saddle horn.

"Fella," he told the gelding as he patted his neck, "I hope you know how to back up when Tom whistles."

As if in answer, the bay whickered softly and nudged the Scot's arm.

From there on, things went according to plan. MacLeod scurried back down to the injured Park Ranger. After roughly splinting the fracture, he looped the extra rope around White Feather's w. Ma. Mac draped Tom's left arm around his shoulders and wrapped his right arm around his waist. Tom whistled and the bay started backing up. With the horse helping to pull Tom up, both men made it to the surface.

Duncan helped Tom onto his horse and keeping the limb straight, looped it with the leather strap from his pocket. He then tied it to the saddle and made sure it was secure.

Tom nodded his okay to MacLeod's questioning look. Then Duncan mounted his mare and the pair retraced their path to the nearest ranger way station.

As slow as they forced to travel, it took them until almost midnight to reach the outpost. The Ranger assigned to the post immediately came out, found out what had happened and went in to radio headquarters for a rescue helicopter.

While MacLeod and White Feather waited for the transportation, Tom glanced over at the Scot's bloodied pants. "You were gonna tell me about that, Mac," he reminded him, nodding at the site of MacLeod's old injury.

Mac twisted his lip while he thought on the prudence of admitting his Immortality to this man he'd only known for several hours. An innate hunch, borne from centuries of dealing with people, led him to take that chance. "Tom, it's like this. I'm an Immortal."

While they waited, Duncan shared his secret of living forever. He didn't tell him about immortal combats to the death, but he did admit his age, which dumbfounded the Hopi. Mac asked him to keep his secret. "God knows what would happen, Tom, if the world found out about us."

"You mean, there's more of you around?" Tom asked.

Mac smiled. "Yeah, a lot more of us. That's why it's important to keep this under yhat.hat."

White Feather grinned. "I can see where it would, Mac. Well, you needn't worry about me. I won't tell a soul." He looked up as the familiar sound of rotary beaters signaling the arrival of an air ambulance. "I do know you better keep in touch with me, Mac, and that's a fact."

MacLeod patted the other man's shoulder. "Don't worry, Tom, I will. You just concentrate on getting well."

Duncan remained at the outpost and rode back to Park Headquarters the next morning with the ranger who'd welcomed them the night before.

* * *

Many years passed, however, before the Highlander again thought of his Hopi friend. In fact, he hadn't really thought of the Mesa Verde trip and specifically, the aura of the invisible kiss until the other night. Those cold wispy lips pressing themselves to his own now recurred frequently in his nightmares. He couldn't help but wonder if it was somehow all connected.

* * * * * *

--To Be Continued--
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Quest, Reversal In Time