by Carol Roi
'Blair.' His mind identified the source of his unease before the young man stepped out of the tree line and started walking down the path towards him. Concern for his friend, and the impulse to move toward the Guide, pulled the Sentinel away from the dock, leaving Connor and Pierson to assist Dawson getting ashore.
'Doesn't look like he slept very well, if at all,' Jim noted mentally as he catalogued the essence of Blair Sandburg. The tired look in the normally bright blue eyes, the set of the shoulders denoting either extreme weariness or tightness, the bruising on the face... Bruising that was there because of him, the man that Blair had jokingly referred to as his 'Blessed Proctector.' Stepping up the path to greet his friend, Jim never noticed that his voice nearly cracked as he spoke but one word, "Sandburg."
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The path from the cabin to the dock was fairly clear, but Blair wasn't watching where he was going. He was thinking about the upcoming event and his role in the ceremony, when he stumbled over an exposed tree root. Catching himself before he fell flat on his face made him fully aware of just how sore he was and how little sleep he'd gotten.
He'd awakened earlier to find that Dee had gotten up before him and had left the small cabin. Finding a note on her pillow, he knew that she'd gone off to collect LaFollet from his night's vigil at Eolia's side. Making himself useful, Blair had prepared a fairly substantial breakfast for the three of them. After they had eaten, and J-M had gone back to his self-imposed watch, Diandra had briefed him on his upcoming duties. An hour later she'd sent him to go collect the rest of the mourning party when she'd heard the approaching boat.
Clearing the tree line above the shore, he slowly walked toward the dock. Seeing that Jim had decided to come to Eolia's funeral gave him hope that his friend was trying to put the events of the last week behind him.
"Sandburg." The voice was rough, as if holding back emotions that threatened to break loose, but it was Jim's voice all the same. Glancing up from the pathway, Blair found himself looking into blue eyes he knew were automatically cataloguing every inch of him, imprinting his very essence.
"Jim." One simple word, the name of a friend, and both men found themselves embracing each other in mutual grief. It was Ellison who broke off the hug first, only to hold Blair at arm's length while one hand clasped a shoulder and the other softly touched the bruise on his jaw.
"I never should've hit you, Chief... "
Blair allowed himself to tentatively smile, since the bruising was rather deep and hurt like hell. "Jim, I'm okay. And maybe I needed you to knock some sense into me."
"Never." The touch on his face pulled his eyes upward, forcing him to look at the Sentinel. "If any of us needed some sense knocked into him, it was me, not you."
Closing his eyes, Blair nodded. It wasn't much, but with Ellison, that was probably as close to a full out apology as he was going to get, for now at least. Opening his eyes again, he noticed that they had been joined by the others and stepped away from Jim to greet them.
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Megan walked alongside of Joe Dawson, with Adam Pierson on the other side of his fellow Watcher, assisting him up the pathway. Jim and Blair walked behind them, talking quietly. She held to the hope that maybe the two men were trying to patch things up between them on their own.
"Those two are close, aren't they, Megan?" Adam's voice cut through her thoughts as she helped Joe carefully navigate another exposed root.
"Yeah, they're close. I just hope they can weather this latest storm without killing each other."
Joe let out a soft chuckle. "Adam, sounds like those two could rival you and Duncan in the 'we're friends, but have our share of problems' category."
"Probably more so, Joe," Pierson answered.
That effectively ended the conversation between the three of them as they covered the last twenty yards to the clearing where the cabin sat. Megan pondered Pierson's words, trying to figure out what the man had hinted at, only to have her mind go completely blank at the sight of her Champion.
Blair had told the four of them that they needed to clear their minds of any negative thoughts about Lee Eolia before venturing towards the funeral pyre. Diandra had requested this of them, and of LaFollet and Sandy himself the night before. He warned there were likely to be things they would see that would confuse them. Diandra would be conducting the ceremony in the 'old style' and all those who gathered to say good-bye to the Immortal Celtoi woman would be asked to say a few words before the pyre was lit. But this, this was almost like stepping back in time to observe a part of the Amazon which hadn't seen the light of day in a long, long time.
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Methos stepped into the clearing around Duncan's cabin, his senses tingling in warning that there were other Immortals in the area. But that was as it should be, what with Diandra and LaFollet nearby. He thought he had mentally prepared himself to see the Amazon in ceremonial garb, but his jaw dropped open in shock anyway.
The outfit was very similar to the one he'd seen her wearing the day that he caused her first death and, ultimately, the fall of Delphi. Her body was covered in the long, flowing white tunic of a priestess of Apollo, with a decorative metal breastplate and a short sword that was more symbolic than useful belted at her waist. But it was her hair that nearly sent him into a flashback to Delphi, for it was piled atop her head, twisted into the elaborate style that he'd last seen on her that fateful day. The day that had brought Eolia of the Celtoi back into his life.
Looking at his companions, Methos noted that even Sandburg seemed a bit shocked at the change of appearance in Diandra. She must not have told him what she had planned, or at least, not all of it. The only one who seemed to be taking the change in Diandra in stride was Ellison, which made him wonder if the man had indeed seen the woman before they had arrived in the clearing. If he had, then there was a chance, a slight one, that Ellison was one of the Warriors of Ares, which would probably make Sandburg a Shield of Ares.
Putting away his line of thought, and slipping back into his 'mortal persona,' Adam finally let loose his tongue. "Well, that's certainly a new look for you, Pallas."
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Dee paused in front of the mirror again, her fingers tucking a stray curl back in place. She studied her reflection seriously for a moment. Perhaps this was going a little overboard. She'd had to dig deep the other day to find the outfit; the half-armor had been buried in the bottom of a trunk she hadn't opened in years. And really, did it matter what she looked like? Certainly not to Lia, and she could perform the ceremony just as easily in jeans and a sweatshirt. But she wouldn't have *felt* like a priestess in jeans, and that was the whole point. Any prop that would get her into the correct mindset was welcome.
Sighing, she shook herself, settling the armor. Her physique had changed since she'd last worn it, and it was now a bit snugger. The Oracle hadn't been into weightlifting then. The sound of voices reached her through the open door of the cabin, and Dee headed outside to greet the mourners.
A smile crossed her face at the amazed looks. Blair's mouth dropped open, and Megan's eyebrows crawled up into her hair, but Methos was the only one with a comment.
"A very old look, Adam," she responded, "as you well know." She ran her gaze over them, noting both Joe and Ellison seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing, but probably for different reasons. Touching Jim's shoulder lightly, she said, "I appreciate your being here. I know how hard this must be for you."
Jim's reply was a slight nod. Dee turned back to the others. "Follow me." She led the way up the trail to the cliff, and gave Jan-Michel a hug once they arrived at the pyre. "You holding up okay, J-M?"
At his nod, Diandra moved to stand at the head of the pyre, her back to the lake, while t
he others spread out around the pyre in a semi-circle. LaFollet handed out small torches to everyone as Diandra explained. "Once I've said the prayer, I will light my torch, and in turn light yours. Then it is traditional for each of us to toss our torch on the fire, one at a time, either saying a few words about Eolia, or simply holding her in our thoughts as we do so."
Closing her eyes, Diandra centered herself, running the prayer over in her mind, making minute changes to fit Eolia's life. Once she was certain she had it, Dee raised her arms in supplication to the Gods, and began to chant.
"Apollo, hear my prayers. I was once your chosen one, and once again I stand on Holy Ground beseeching you to have your brother hear my voice." Diandra paused, waiting to feel the connection that she once felt so strongly when praying to the gods. Feeling the old, yet familiar, sensation settling into her heart, she continued.
"Hades, god of the Underworld, I am here to petition you to smooth the path for my departed sister. She comes to you a warrior true, wounded by lost love and seeking peace within your hallowed Elysian Fields. Eolia was, like me, an Amazon, never taken in by one of the seven tribes, but all the same, she was one of Artemis' Daughters. As the Lord and Master of the House of Ais, it is within your power to control Cerebus, to hold him back from harming Lia as she passes through your realm after crossing the river Styx. Her journey to you has already been a hard one. Make it not more difficult, but ease her way to your Fields."
Once again, Diandra stopped, shifting her attention now to the one god she had heard Eolia pray to, rarely but passionately. "Othin! Hear me! I send to you a daughter of the Celtoi, a woman well suited to wear the armor of your Choosers of the Slain, a true Valkyrie of heart and soul and a child of Janus, able to hide her true self from others as well as herself. She will serve you well if you take her under your wing." Now to finish this, "Apollo, Hades, and Othin. Soon I, and the friends of Eolia gathered here today, will light the pyre to guide her journey into the underworld. I beg of you kindness, compassion and understanding for the woman who I once called my sister. This I ask of all of you, the Gods that would welcome her, in the name of the Great One whose name can never be known."
As Diandra's rich alto filled the air with ancient Greek, Blair began to translate, unconsciously falling into the chant rhythm, but one line behind Dee. He stood to her right in the circle, Jim beside him, and LaFollet to Ellison's right. Megan was to Dee's left, Joe next to her, and Adam stood opposite the priestess, at Eolia's feet.
The prayer continued for several minutes, then came to an end as Diandra lowered her arms and picked up her torch. She passed her hand over the top of it, and it burst into flame. Silently the rest of them accepted a light from her, then she began to speak, this time in English. "Hades speed you on your way, my daughter, my sister. May you find what you were searching for amid the Elysian Fields."
She touched the fire she held to the pyre, and the treated wood began to burn. Dropping the torch into the flames, she reached into a pouch she wore at her waist, then scattered what looked like dust, but what were really mildly hallucinogenic herbs, onto the fire. Colored smoke began to rise, and the air was filled with a musky, earthy scent, masking the smell of burning flesh.
Diandra closed her eyes and began to sing. This time Blair couldn't translate for the others, as the language was far older than Greek, one that perhaps only she and Methos still understood. But it didn't matter. The minor key and the keening vibrato in her voice made the message clear. This was a song of mourning.
Inhaling deeply of the potent amber and magenta smoke, Diandra found herself transported to the temple at Delphi. It rose above her in all its marble majesty, as if it had never fallen. She was kneeling on the steps just below the fissure from which the holy mists rose.
"Lady Dorian." The honorific was spoken softly.
Rising, Diandra turned around to see Eolia, dressed in the simple brown robes of a servant girl, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed to accept her reprimand. "Lia--"
The woman threw herself on the ground at the Oracle's feet. "Forgive me, Dorian. I failed to grasp the most basic lesson you taught me. The truth is sacred, and no matter how hard I try to hide from it, the more I twist it to my bidding, the more it becomes my undoing. My lies nearly killed you, as I nearly killed the one you love."
Diandra bent to lay a gentle hand on the Celtoi's pinned up braids. "Lia, it's forgotten. You are forgiven. Go on to your new life, your transgressions washed away."
The other Immortal gazed up at Diandra, her brown eyes wet with tears. Grasping Eolia's hand, Diandra pulled her to her feet and into a hug. When she finally let go of the smaller woman, Dee stepped back, wiping the tears from Lia's face, and kissing her forehead. "Go in peace, Lia. Charon awaits."
Eolia let go of her hands, shimmered, and disappeared.
Diandra came back to the cliff and the ceremony. She turned to Megan, gesturing for her to go next. The Australian shrugged and cleared her throat. "I didn't know you well at all, Lee, but you were important to people I care about. For their sakes and yours, I hope you are in a better place." She tossed her burning stick onto the fire.
Joe was next. He simply said, "I wish I could have gotten to know you better. What stories you could have told. God be with you." His torch joined the other two.
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Diandra's gaze fell on Blair, and he knew it was his turn. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, inhaling the pale jade smoke. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the island but standing inside a darkened building. Light glowed from candles set on various tables around the huge room, casting long shadows on the stone walls and vaulted ceilings. Blair realized he was in Our Lady of Perpetual Help church. Holy ground. Oh, great! This was not the time for this!
"Companion." The voice was familiar and unexpected. Turning around, Blair found himself face to face with Lee Eolia. She was dressed all in black, her auburn hair hanging loose down her back, her sheathed sword cane in hand.
For a moment Blair was speechless, then he managed to stutter, "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"
A rueful smile crossed her lips. "I have unfinished business. I owe you an apology, young one. You knew the truth of me from the moment we met, and I appealed to you to keep what you knew to yourself. My request only harmed you, and the people you love. You are justified in your hatred of me, and I have no right to ask your forgiveness. I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused you, and Diandra, and Jim."
Blair was silent for a moment, wondering what she wanted from him. And then he knew. "I accept your apology." As soon as the words left his spirit world lips, he found himself back at the funeral.
"I forgive you, Eolia." He lofted his torch toward the leaping flames, feeling a weight leave his soul.
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Taking a step towards the pyre, just as Sandburg moved back, Adam Pierson drew the encased scroll out of his pocket. Holding it close to his chest, burning torch off to his side, Methos began to softly speak. "Eolia... Lia, you were one of my finest Students, even if I had to almost beat some of your lessons into that hard head of yours. Your time on this world was cut far too short." The wind changed directions, gently blowing the herb laced umber smoke into his face and he inhaled the fragrance with his eyes closed.
Opening his eyes, he tossed the scroll onto the pyre and then Methos had to take a step backwards from the vision before him. Eolia was standing there, her back to the pyre, dressed in the ornate silver armor she had worn their year in the Coliseum together. "Eolia?"
Even as he spoke her name, the air and ambiance of the Coliseum surrounded him, taking him back to the last day they had fought together. The massive pyre burned brightly in the center of the grounds to light the spectacle for all in the stands to see. As Champions of the Gladiatorial events, Eolia and Methos were scheduled to fight
a small cohort of Germani warriors. Once again, they had proven themselves worthy of the Caesar's admiration, and stood, victorious, on the bloody sands.
The red-haired, gilded apparition smiled, saluting him with the short blade in her hand. "Greetings, Teacher. Brhati heard my wishes and I've been allowed to appear before you one last time."
"Why?" He was stunned. Brhati was one of the older gods, one lost to antiquity, but also one of the few that could have granted this request.
"Because, Meeth, I need to apologize to you. I came to you, asking what no student should ever ask of her teacher, and then had the audacity to get angry at you for refusing me." Tears slowly started to fall down the cream-colored cheeks. "And I wanted to say good-bye to one of my husbands who managed to outlive me."
