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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Rating: NC-17, Slash, m/m, Bond, D/s, Humil, MC, N/C, Oral

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

Disclaimer: Highlander and its characters are the property of Panzer/Davis. The original ones are mine.

Summary: Duncan attends the early version of a swap meet.

Chaper 6

The Gathering

The men carried baskets of dried corn, pottery and blankets with which to trade with other communities to the south. Wearing hand made sandals, woven g-strings and little else, the group set a fast walking pace. MacLeod's long hair was gathered back into a ponytail and secured with a thong Rising Star had made.

As they walked, Mac saw a small herd of antelope, several cotton tail rabbits, field mice and even a cougar climbing high on a nearby slope. The desert country was rapidly drying out in the hot summer sun. What little water the men carried was carefully rationed. Owl showed Pahana how to carry a pebble in his mouth to help dispel his thirst. The five feet three inch warrior was Rising Star's brother-in-law. He, subsequently, was very open and friendly toward the latest addition to their tribal family. Running Antelope and the others were courteous and helpful, but were somewhat overwhelmed, not only by MacLeod's height but by his reputation. He was reputed to be the white leader that would save their tribe. Mac's reluctance in being totally honest with the superstitious Indians only proved to whetten their beliefs.

About a mile down the canyon, Owl led the party up a steep slope to a crudely built shrine. Two spirals had been carved into the rock face of a large boulder. Three large sandstone slabs had been placed there to form an aperture, similar to the lens of a modern day camera. Owl explained to the Scot that this was known as the Sun Dagger. It was a lighthouse of sorts, in addition to being a holy shrine. Religion was very important to the natives. Duncan had already attended several ceremonies held in the village kiva. He'd also noticed that none of the walls, as yet, bore any of the white man's drawings he'd seen when he and Tom White Feather had visited the site some eight hundred years in the future.

Their Shaman was in charge of manning the Sun Dagger. Htchetched the stars and heavens, and by doing so would be able to predict the weather changes and planting times. Mac smiled to himself. It was almost like a living example of a Farmer's Almanac.

Once they reached the shrine, each man knelt and prayed and cast a pinch of corn to the four directions: north, south, east and west. Duncan mimicked the others in bowing his head and casting a pinch of corn. He didn't want to attract any more attention than he absolutely had to. The men then descended a ladder into a kiva near the lighthouse. The village's shaman sat near the fire pit. At first he merely acknowledged the man's presence with a brief nod, but Mac soon noticed the surreptitious looks the Shaman was giving him. The old holy man was just over five feet tall and wore his straight black hair cut in a dish shape as did the other Catoris. His single difference was that he wore a bright red blanket about his shoulders. A large sun with a representation of the Sun Dagger had been painstakingly woven into the center of the garment.

"Holy one, this is Pahana," Owl introduced the two men. "He is now Rising Star's mate."

"Ah, I have heard of your presence here in our canyon," the old man quietly acknowledged. "You have come far?" he asked the tall Scot.

The Highlander crossed his ankles and deftly lowered himself to the ground in a sitting position. "Yes, O, Wise One, very far."

The aging Indian nodded his graying head and leaned in so that only MacLeod could hear his words.

"The spirits foretell of a great man from across the ocean who will come to fight our enemies. They say that, despite this man's great suffering, he will defend us against the assasins from the south. He will also avenge the death of one of our maidens. They say he has led many lives and will live many more." The Shaman paused and lifted the white man's chin up until the puzzled, brown eyes met his black ones. "You are he; you are Pahana."

MacLeod knew the old man's words were not a question. It was a statement of fact. He had no idea just how the Shaman knew, but it was obvious that the tribal physician had psychic abilities. Of course, after his unheard of trip back in time to the twelfth century, Duncan would now believe anything. "Yes, Grandfather, I am he. I do not know what exactly will happen, but I have been sent here to protect Rising Star."

The Shaman nodded his head and then held the Highlander's gaze with his piercing obsidian eyes. "I also see that you are troubled, my son. You have had things done to you that you cannot set aside."

Duncan blancin sin stunned surprise.
How can he know? he thought to himself. Mac wasn't ready to reveal anything more, so he merely nodded and whispered, "Perhaps."

The Holy man patted MacLeod's knee. "You will overcome this dark shadow that is overwhelming you, Pahana. You will succeed and return to your world, so that you may go to others."

Duncan's mouth gaped open in surprise. " .. .but how?. . ." he began, "what are you saying?".

The old man merely shook his head. "That is not for you to know, mighty warrior. What you must do is to not falter. No matter what path has been chosen for you, do not veer from it and your journey shall be successful."

Try as he might, MacLeod was unable to acquire any further information from the old sage. The men and Duncan ate a brief meal before more prayers and conferences were held with the holy man. Then, just after midday, the group left the Sun Dagger and once again headed south.

* * * * * *

MacLeod and the others of the trading party made good time. Mac's eyes were full of wonder at the numerous varieties of wild life and birds. As many times as he'd traveled the western states and the Four Corners area, he'd never seen this part of the country in the 'basically untouched by human hands' condition he now did. The high peaks of the Rocky Mountains were visible to the far northeast with their shale covered slopes and stands of virgin pine. Of course, he was sure the Rockies hadn't been named the Rocky Mountains as yet.

All along the dirt trail they followed, Duncan spotted pockets of cliff dwellings. Men, women and children were visible performing the many tasks of daily living, prominent in their culture. The communities offered them a night's lodging at each stop. Sometimes, Owl and the others stopped and exchanged tidbits of gossip and information and sometimes not.

Two concerns kept coming up in their conversations with the other Indians. One was the amount of rainfall not being as great as the year before. With their crops of maize, squash and other vegetables being their main sustenance, it was a very serious matter. If they couldn't grow their food, they would have to move on. This wasn't acceptable to them as their villages had been in existence for several centuries. Yet, inevitably, the Catori would do what they must to survive. Duncan thought that was probably the main reason for their mass exodus.

The other hot topic of conversation was the reappearance of the Toltec Indians from far to the south in what is now known as Mexico. The giants, most of them around six feet tall, were traders. Owl and his companions hinted of the Toltecs' dark religious practices, among which was blood sacrifice. Little Coyote had heard that the legendary warriors also brewed a strong, heady drink called
pulque. The milky white liquid, made from a rare type of agave, or cactus plant, clouded one's mind and caused the person to do things ordinarily they would not do. They also alluded to the legendary warriors denying death; i.e., they were difficult to kill and and even more so, to stay dead. The tall ones had powers none of the Catori had.

Owl's ordinarily open face masked into one of foreboding caution. He leaned closely to the white man. "It is said, Pahana, that some of the sacrifices were humans, especially if they were fair skinned as are you." The Indian's shoulder length hair flipped about his round face and flattened skull. "I would be cautious, my brother. Even one having the gift of eternal life is threatened."

MacLeod's astute mind couldn't help but wonder if some of the members of the infamous tribe were Immortals. If so, it would account for their seeming longevity. His ears truly perked up when Running Antelope then shared his own tidbit of news.

"I have also heard, Pahana, that one of their members has fair skin as do you. Only his is much whiter and his hair of a lighter color. The Toltecs believe he has special magic because his piercing eyes are the color of Great Father Sun and Great Mother Earth."

The others in the group nodded in agreement. The men continued exchanging gossi cur curious events surrounding the secretive Indians from south of the big river until after their meager meal of water and corn cakes, that they'd roasted in the fire, was finished. Pahana amazed the others when he expressed a desire to see the pale skinned man face to face. This did not please his companions.

Owl bespoke their fears. "Pahana, your powers are not as great as theirs. I would not see any harm befall the husband of my wife's sister."

Duncan smiled and thought to himself,
If they ever saw a Quickening, it would scare the living daylights out of these superstitious people.

* * * * * *

Mac and the other men were on the trail before dawn. Their route headed a southeasterly direction. Owl explained to the white man that other tribal members from as far away as the great waters of the ocean, our modern day Texas coastline, were to gather in the ruins of one of their ancient pueblo villages. Oddly enough, it didn't occur to the primitives that Chaco Canyon could be inhabited by ghosts. Members of the Bear Clan and the other Catori clans used the abandoned outbuildings for a meeting place.

"We will arrive there tomorrow, Pahana," Owl informed him.

* * * * * *

About mid morning of the following day, Duncan received his first glimpse of Chaco Canyon. The architecture of the deserted pueblo was breathtaking. He had toured through the ruins in the seventies, but to see it in its pristine condition as it was in 1150 A.D. was just one more reason he was glad that he'd been transferred back in time. The entire city had been the home of more than six hundred families. MacLeod's love of history came to the fore. The Immortal was awed in wonder of the structures.

Several other groups, numbering close to seventy-five or eighty men could be seen bartering their goods with their fellow traders. Mac saw raw gem stones of quartz, obsidian, and copper to name a few. The Highlander was reminded of the Gatherings he'd participated in while a boy in his native Scotland. Here, as in his home country, everyone from miles around congregated to trade goods as well as news each year. Carefully woven blankets were spread out for all to see. There was an abundance of pottery available, but none of it seemed quite as skilled as that from Mesa Verde, or green table, Rising Star's people.

MacLeod's grasp of their language had increased, so that he now comprehended most of the large contingent's speech. What he definitely understood was that Toltecs, approximately thirty men in all, had arrived the day before. Pahana was cautioned to not stray from his friends lest he be taken prisoner. The Highlander shrugged off their over zealous trepidation. However, his four hundred years of immortality and constant awareness of possible adversaries demanded that he not take his safety for granted. MacLeod wished he had his Katana.

As the evening wore on, the individual clans singled off to build small fires for their evening meal. Some of the women who'd accompanied their men were placing red hot stones in pots of water. Bringing the liquid to a boil, they then dropped in wedges of squash, wild onions, and ground corn. Some of them added a chunk of antelope or deer meat to form the Catori version of stew. Utensils were unheard of. Not since his days with the Sioux had he dipped his fingers into a communal pot of porridge to feed himself.

Mac settled himself cross-legged on a blanket with Owl and the rest of their party. Visitors mingled throughout the one hundred or more camp fires lighting up the star-filled, southwestern night sky. His attention was soon drawn to the tall individuals entering the camp grounds. Their leader was like a giant, his height at least six feet four inches. His long black, thatch like hair was drawn off his face and secured with three multicolored feathers by a leather strip. His massive, hairless chest glistened a dark reddish-brown color. The chieftain's girth was covered with a finely woven kilt of red cotton fringed with gold colored tassels. In his bear-like left hand he carried a staff carved out of cedar. It was capped with a knob of solid gold in the shape of the fabled quetzal bird of Central and South America.

As the Warrior Chief and Shaman of the mighty Toltec City of Tula and his contingent approached the central meeting area, all other conversations ceased. Every person's attention was now riveted upon the awesome visage standing among them.

Unnoticed by others, MacLeod had backed up to the rear of the camping area. His head and body were reeling from an onslaught of potent Immortal aura. Mac shook his head in an effort to clear the pounding, almost nauseous, sensations bombarding him. The leader was quite obviously an Immortal, but from the severeness of quickening energy, Duncan thought there might be another one among them as well. Casting his glittering dark brown eyes over the Toltecs, his vision briefly collided with that of a pair of hazel eyes, the gold shining expectantly within their depths. The Highlander attempted to skirt the crowd and get closer to the other Immortal, but the man secreted himself away and vanished from sight.

Duncan was lost in thought and failed to notice the Toltec leader had felt Mac's presence. The Scot turned to leave but was stopped by a massive hand around his arm. He looked up into steely black eyes glimmering with sexual desire. MacLeod was suddenly overwhelmed with unwanted memories of Lemuel Priest's abusive acts and stepped back a pace, but was soon surrounded by the rest of the Toltecs.

Owl and Running Antelope started to come to the Highlander's aid, but MacLeod shook his head to stop them. The smaller Catori men would not have a chance against these much larger and well trained warriors.

"You are one like me, pale one," the Leader spoke. "I like you. You have smooth perfect skin and powerful muscles." The other Immortal's right hand remained clamped on Duncan's left arm while his right one brusquely rubbed the Scot's chest. "I am Quetzalomeyocan, Chief Shaman and Warrior Chieftain of the Tula Toltec."

MacLeod, fighting the frisson of fear that streaked through him, squared his shoulders and wrenched his arm free from the Indian's grip. Without thinking of what he was saying, he growled, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod and keep your hands to yourself."

For a brief moment, the Toltec's black eyes narrowed and his slashed mouth flattened into an evil sneer. Then, as quickly as the shaman's reaction appeared, it was squelched and his lips formed a broad smile that never met his eyes. The Toltec began laughing, "Ah, Pahana, you will be a challenge. I like a challenge."

The two men stared at each other for long moments before the Toltec shrugged, laughed and departed with his followers. Duncan was left standing frozen, unsure at that point just what he felt. Feeling a hand touch his shoulder, he turned and saw Owl peering at him, concern in his face.

"Come, Pahana, ignore him. Let us sleep, for tomorrow will be a long day of trading."

Mac nodded and followed him to the empty adobe room they'd selected, rolling up in a single blanket he used for a bed." He was soon asleep.

* * *

"Drink this," Lemuel Priest ordered and held the wooden cup up to MacLeod's blood crusted lips.

Duncan shook his head violently and clamped his lips tightly together. Sawing his bloody wrists on the ropes biting into them, the Scot twisted his naked body in a feeble effort to avoid whatever demented delights the sheriff planned for his paying guests that evening Since both he and his prisoner were Immortal, Lemuel's deranged mind invented various methods of erotic amusement at MacLeod's expense. Mac had long since lost track of the number of months he'd been held prisoner. He wasn't sure how much longer he could retain the slender thread of sanity he had left.

At this moment, the hapless Highlander was suspended between two seven foot tall wooden stakes. His bare skin shivered in the damp, cold air of the below ground prison. Duncan only knew that when he quit fighting them and gave in to Priest's inventive sex games, he, Duncan MacLeod, was lost. He just didn't know how much longer he could hold out. Priest was relentless and no matter how many times Duncan refused the evil sheriff, invariably the lawman would have his way.

"Here, hold his nose," Lemuel ordered one of his men.

A massive prison guard grabbed a handful of MacLeod's long, filthy, matted hair and yanked the Scot's head back. He then pinched Mac's nose together with his other begrimed hand. Duncan feebly attempted to hold his breath, but it wasn't long until his lungs gasped for air. When they did, his mouth gaped open and Priest poured the drug filled potion into his mouth. The guard continued to anchor Duncan's head and nose, while Lemuel shoved MacLeod's lower jaw until his mouth snapped shut and he was forced to swallow the bitter liquid.

"Youngling, I do not know why you persist in fighting me. You will not win. You are mine. You shall do whatever I want and you will service my guests for the rest of your very long immortal life."

Priest stood nose to nose with the Highlander. As he crooned, he fondled Duncan's flaccid twin pouches and the web of muscle behind them. MacLeod's almost blackened toast eyes glittered with hatred for his jailor.

"Nae, Priest. I'll nae gi' in to ye," he vowed and spit into the other Immortal's face.

The sheriff back handed MacLeod with his powerful right hand. "Oh, yes you will, youngling, yes, you will."

As MacLeod's vision began wavering from the effects of whatever drug Lemuel Priest had given him, he whispered, "Never, Priest, never..." and the fog of dissemination overwhelmed MacLeod, scattering his mind and images into fragments both seen and imagined. "No, no, no-oo!" he screamed but somehow his scream came out in a whimper.

* * *

"Pahana! Pahana! Wake up, you're dreaming!" Owl shook the sleeping man's shoulder in an effort to awaken the tormented white man.

"What?" MacLeod bolted upright, shaking and covered in perspiration. "Owl?"

"Yes, Pahana. It is I. Are you all right?" the Catori whispered, sitting back on his heels with a worried frown on his face.

Duncan drew in several slow deep breaths to calm himself and slow his heart rate. Another nightmare, this one worse than what he'd had since he'd been transported into the Anasazi world. He stretched out a shaking hand and patted his friend's arm. "I'm fine now, Owl," he reassured him.

Mac drew up his knees and brushed his sweat soaked hair out of his watery eyes. When the Highlander's limbs quit trembling, he stood and left the one-room sleeping quarters he shared with Owl and the others. Duncan quietly slipped away from the pueblo and found a spot overlooking the eastern sky and the slowly rising sun. He stood with his feet balanced and commenced his deep breathing exercises that heralded his morning kata. This ritual was as common place for him as breathing. It not only kept him in shape, but it focused his muddled thoughts and prevented them from scattering to the four winds.

Up until now, his nightmares hadn't awakened the Catoris. If they had, they'd not ever said anything to him. It was strange that when he was with Rising Star, the dreams weren't so bad. Sadly, Duncan had to admit to himself that, without a doubt, he did not deeply love the beautiful Indian woman. He was fond of her and cared very much what would happen to her and her people. He would always treasure the memory of the young Indian girl in his heart. Duncan knew his affection for her, however, wasn't the depth of love he'd known with Tessa. Rising Star had from the first day shared her abiding love with him. She also said she would miss him when he was gone. It was as if she was aware that she would only have her warrior husband for a season.

How does she know I'll return to the twenty-first century? he thought to himself.
How do I know I will?

* * * * * *

Later that morning, all seemed quiet within the pueblo. The Toltecs were busy trading their goods. The Highlander saw them swap ornate turquoise necklaces and robes woven in brilliant reds, yellows and greens, all decorated with multicolored feathers of parrots, egrets and other tropical birds. They in turn were wanting maize, squash, beans and other vegetables in addition to salt, cotton and pottery. He even saw different types of sea shells they had brought all the way from the Gulf of Mexico and the Texas coastline. Mac had to remind himself, however, that in this time period, the state of Texas didn't exist.

As the day wore on, Duncan noticed several of the Catoris and Toltecs had gathered in one of the larger kivas. He could hear drums beating out a tattoo of rhythms and chants wafting up from the largest of the subterranean rooms. He wondered what ceremonies were being held that did not include an outsider such as he.

"Pahana?" Duncan turned to see that Owl had joined him.

"Yes, Owl?"

"Are you sure you are well? Is your spirit now at rest?" Owl sat down beside him.

Duncan nodded. "Yes, Owl, my spirit rests."

Owl nodded. "Good .I could not return to my sister if you were harmed."

MacLeod smiled. "I know." Changing the subject, he asked, "What do you think of the Toltecs?"

"I am cautious of them." He lowered his voice and leaned toward his brother-in-law. "They are not of our village. It is said they capture slaves and use them in their religious ceremonies. I would not see you captured."

The Highlander half smiled at his friend's concern. "What do they do with their captives?" Duncan asked.

Owl frowned and lowered his voice. "I have heard that they use them as priests and priestesses."

"In other words, they're high classed whores," MacLeod responded.

A mystified look spread across the young Indian's face. "What is a hore, Pahana?"

MacLeod laughed. "It is someone who sells their body."

"I have not heard this term." Owl's ruggedly attractive face grew thoughtful. "You have traveled far, have you not, Pahana?"

Images of the different civilizations and peoples he'd seen came to his mind and he nodded, "Yes, Owl, I have."

Owl was silent in perusal of what the great white warrior had told him. He then cautioned the Highlander to not be alone while there ere in Chaco Canyon. The Indian was wise beyond his young years in that he didn't trust the Toltecs and the other Catori groups if they found out the true identity of the Buffalo Clan's newest member.

* * * * * *

Duncan found a spot on the ledge of an abandoned home to eat his lunch. It was far enough away from the others to afford some privacy, but remain within hailing distance of his group. The Scot sat cross-legged on the ground and tore off bites of the dried buffalo meat Rising Star had packed for him. He also ate a corn cake he'd traded from one of the elder women.

In the intervening month he'd spent with the Catori, Duncan had lost a few pounds, but his muscular frame had been honed down to solid muscle. It had been a while since the Immortal was in as fine shape as he was right now. Yet, there was so much he did not understand. What was his mission here? Why had the Shaman at the Sun Dagger intimated that he'd lived other lifetimes and would live many others? How would these prehistoric people help him cleanse the black memories of Lemuel Priest's abuse from his soul? How did the Toltec Medicine Man play into this complicated scene? And who was the mysterious white Immortal who traveled with Quetzalomeyocan and his tribe? Duncan had not as yet seen him. He'd only briefly felt his presence at last night's ceremony. Would the unknown member of his race have a part in this macabre scene in the thirteenth century role of an extinct Indian civilization?

In his musings, MacLeod neglected to hearken to the familiar stimuli that heralded the approach of a fellow Immortal. So, when Quetzalomeyocan's large hand clasped his shoulder, Mac jumped.

The Toltec's booming laughter burst forth when he saw the Scot's reaction. "Ah, Pahana, my beautiful peacock. You are becoming accustomed to my presence already."

MacLeod gracefully glided to a standing position. "My thoughts were elsewhere." Duncan instinctively assumed a warrior's stance, balancing his feet slightly apart. He again missed his Katana and dearly wished he had the formidable weapon in his hand.

The larger Immortal's left hand reached out and tweaked a strand of Duncan's long hair between his thumb and forefinger. "Pahana, I wanted to invite you to a special ceremony tonight in our kiva."

MacLeod neatly brushed aside the Toltec's hand from his body. As if the two men's actions and speech were separate entities, MacLeod asked, "What kind of ceremony?"

The tall Indian stepped one pace closer to the Highlander until their bodies almost but not quite touched. "It is one of celebration, Pahana. We have traded well this trip and wish to have a feast and invite our friends to share in our happiness."

Duncan was all too aware of Quetzalomeyocan invading his personal space. He also understood that if he protested too much, the Immortal would involve the entire encampment. Mac didn't want to bring that much attention upon himself and his party. "I will consider it, Quetzalomeyocan."

The larger man pounded the Scot on the back. "I knew you would want to be there. It will commence at sundown." He turned to leave but hesitated and swung back around to face the Highlander. "Come alone." The shaman watched a look of distrust flash across the handsome man's face. "You have nothing to fear, Pahana. Our battle is not for others to see."

Both MacLeod and the Toltec leader exchanged visual examinations of the other one's intentions. Finally, MacLeod nodded affirmatively. "I will be there, but make no mistake, Quetzalomeyocan, I can take care of myself."

The undisguised threat in his voice and body was obvious to the Toltec. The War Chief cocked his regal head. "I have no doubt of that, Pahana." With that, he turned and descended the slope to the main encampment.

For long moments, Duncan stared in the direction that the Toltec had taken. He suspected the Immortal would try something at the ceremony tonight. Mac just wasn't sure what it would be. He would have to be on the alert. Owl would not be happy regarding the Scot's decision, but Duncan did not want any of the mild mannered Catori men involved in what he considered Immortal business. Besides, he was still very curious as to the identity of the other white Immortal that was part of Quetzalomeyocan's band. Perhaps he would also attend the ceremony.

* * * * * *

--TBC--
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Quest, Reversal In Time