Cassandra raced through the streets to the harbour, whilst Gerald sat in the passenger seat grimly contemplating her latest actions. He'd been happy to support Cassandra in her research, looking for a way to help her achieve a balance, a way to exact some form of payment from Methos for what he had done to her in the past. Nothing he'd found or was aware of in any of the information Cassandra had shown him had prepared him for this plan though. Making an all out frontal assault so close to that at least two other immortals had been crazy.
He knew that his lover did not intend to behead the oldest immortal, but beyond that he had no idea what her plans were, and it worried him. Cassandra was not usually so secretive with him and he began to wonder if he meant as much to her as she did to him. Whatever the case might be however, he determined that would do his best to prevent Cassandra from doing anything that would cause regret later, and that he would ensure that Methos was still alive at the end of whatever Cassandra had planned. Any other matters, such as the exact nature of their relationship, would have to be dealt with later.
Sighing inwardly he tried to stay alert and not allow the tension he felt impair his faculties. With Cassandra so preoccupied he was the sole member of their intrepid team who was in any condition to defend against a challenge should one arise - something he deemed highly likely, given that they had left one immortal behind in the parking lot, moreover one who had been expecting Methos, judging by his actions at the time, plus at least one more inside the bar It was not at all beyond the realms of possibility that they might follow. As far as Gerald was concerned this Halloween was shaping up to be a particularly shitty one.
As they reached the quayside Cassandra parked and, after leaping out of the car, instructed Gerald to fetch their 'guest' form the trunk whilst she engaged the engine of the boat she'd hired fortunately for Gerald Methos was still out of commission, the damage done to his body by crushing taking far longer to repair than a simple shot or stab wound. Gerald hadn't fancied trying to deal with him in he'd been back in the land of the living. Carefully he swung the surprisingly lightweight body over his shoulder and carried him to the boat where Cassandra was waiting As she manoeuvred them out of the mooring and through the harbour entrance she gave Methos no attention except to request that Gerald tie his hands behind his back fasten them to the side rail and search him for weapons.
She seemed to know exactly which route to take across the bay and Gerald realised she was heading for the beach, such as it was, below the lighthouse. There was not much leeway to get onto the beach, the lighthouse was, after all, there for a reason. The rocky outcrops, the swift current and high tides making this a dangerous place to land. None of these things worried Cassandra as she nudged the bows closer to the narrow strip of shale beneath the cliff. The boat grounded and she stepped off with the mooring line in her hand. Securing the boat fast to a large boulder she turned and helped Gerald to lift the still unresponsive form of their captive out of the vessel. and then directed him to the entrance of the cavern.
Gerald knew that Cassandra intended to conduct some kind of ceremony here. That ceremony would, she hoped, restore her sense of well being, her self esteem, and something else which she kept secret. In her hands she carried a bundle which Gerald had not seen before, preoccupied as he had been with guarding their backs. He shook himself. 'About time you cleared your head old son, you'll need your wits about you tonight', he thought as he walked towards the mouth of the cave.
As they entered the cave even the greenest immortal could not have failed to notice the tingle that signalled this was Holy Ground. It crawled up Gerald's spine and he almost dropped his burden in shock. He faltered and looked at his lover, startled.
"You can't be serious Cassandra, extracting revenge or whatever you want to call it, here of all places?"
"Don't worry Gerald. I know what I am doing. There's no danger to us and long as we all have our heads on our shoulders." she smiled at him encouragingly and continued deeper into the cave, pleased that he still followed her.
But Gerald was not so easily persuaded of the wisdom or even the veracity of Cassandra's assessment. He'd heard rumours all his immortal life concerning illicit action taken against others on Holy Ground and what befell those who were involved. None of the rumoured consequences sounded remotely benign. If he had not promised to protect Cassandra, if he hadn't been so in love with the damned woman, he would have left immediately - as it was he tried desperately to encourage her to leave.
"This is insane. How can you be sure that whatever you have planned will not cause us a problem? I don't fancy ending up as ashes here Cassandra."
"If you haven't got the guts to stay, then by all means leave," she replied, "but as long as we stay within the bounds of approved religious ritual, and do not take a head here, nothing untoward will happen to us. Believe me or not, it's your choice, but I have no time to spend on mollifying you. I need to concentrate so that I can reach the height of the ceremony by midnight for the exchange to work.
So saying stopped then as they came to the edge of a pool surrounded by white sand. She dropped the bundle she had been carrying at her feet and opened it. She drew out leg irons, a metal collar and two sets of manacles plus assorted knives and a whip. Gerald stood by watching in horror. Instinctively he had known that Cassandra intending to take revenge would involve some blood letting, but he'd never imagined her this calm and collected as she prepared to torture the man she had taken prisoner, who had taken her captive those thousands of years ago. He'd seen her take heads, always in response to a challenge, though he knew she had gone seeking Kronos he'd never seen her initiate a challenge.
This somehow was so outside of what he understood of her usual behaviour that he felt cold. In his mind he accepted that Methos was guilty of crimes against his lover, and that he deserved some punishment. He was not at all sure what he had expected but he did know that this was not it. He made a mental note not to ever put himself in a position that Cassandra might think needed her to take revenge on him.
He sighed. It was hopeless. She would not be dissuaded and he could not leave her, he loved her too much to let her go through this alone. he was here for the duration, come what may - so it was that when Cassandra instructed him to help her strip Methos, attach the shackles to him and use them to bind him to the large standing stone in the centre of the pool he merely sighed and acquiesced without further discussion.
The people mover took the rough terrain through Lighthouse Park in its stride. Joe took no notice of the signs and the barrier which designated the land beyond the parking lot as private, with access on foot apart from emergency vehicles. Heck he figured this was an emergency, he was not sure how he'd explain it if he was stopped, but then he did have two immortals who would probably deal with any such problems as they arose. Joe crashed through the barrier without even pausing and managed to steer with great difficulty along the uneven and increasingly steep track that led down to the Lighthouse itself. Walking this route would take more than half an hour even with the fittest athlete, This way they took less time and he could go too. Walking this terrain with false legs would have been a major pain, literally.
By the time they finally drew up to the two abandoned log cabins that stood near the lighthouse keeper's house the atmosphere in the van could have been cut with a knife.
"How do we get down to the cave?"Catriona asked?
"Through the keeper's garden and down to the base of the Lighthouse, there are steps there and they lead down to a pontoon and to the beach, but if we don't hurry we'll be cut off by the tide." Duncan said as he opened the door.
"Does the tide come high enough to enter the cave?"Connor asked
"With a flood tide, yes" Duncan said
"And I'll wager there's a flood tide tonight." Catriona said.
"Aye cousin there is, but it won't reach the fullest height until midnight. Then the entrance will be hidden and only the higher chambers will be dry."
"We have to move fast then. Tide or not Cassandra won't be deterred from her goal whatever it takes, and if I'm right the height of the ceremony she's planning will occur at midnight."
"Just what is it you think she's aiming to do anyhow?" Joe asked as they clambered down the steep slope to the lighthouse and towards the steps.
"I've been trying to decipher what I saw her doing in the vision," Catriona said., "I've been wracking my brain trying to decide what it was, and the only thing I can think of is that she is aiming to conduct a 'Soul Loss' ceremony. Unfortunately it seems that she, like many others, has chosen to adopt the ritual as 'reported' by Julius Caesar."
"Why is that unfortunate?" asked Joe.
"Ah yes," Connor said, "Julius Caesar, the great propagandist for all things Roman being good and all things Celtic being bad, violent and evil - because they weren't Roman."
"Exactly," Catriona said, "and if he ever described a ritual in its true form or ever actually saw a true ritual I've yet to find the proof. he certainly took great delight in describing a large number of gory rituals. The more bloodshed involved the better he seemed to like it. Which says a lot about him and his predilections, but unfortunately for anyone searching for the truth in his writings it tells them little of any real use. If Cassandra has it in her head that Caesar's so called 'Soul Loss' ceremony os correct she'll be sadly disappointed in the result and Methos will suffer for it."
"So what's the purpose of a real 'soul loss ceremony?" Joe asked.
"To draw back into oneself that which is lost through another 'stealing' your soul, interfering with your life to such an extent that you have no control over your own destiny. I suppose 'soul fragmentation' might be a better term." Catriona said.
"I think I can see why that would appeal to Cassandra." duncan said. "She blames Methos for stealing not only her life but those of her tribe as well. In many ways she has moved on and made a success of her life and in others she is still stuck where she was the day the Horsemen rode into her village. She once told me it would never be over, that nothing could make it right. Perhaps she thinks she's found a way to make it right at last."
Catriona nodded in agreement, adding, "You have to forget Christian notions of the soul here Joe. In Celtic lore the soul is part of your personality, not a supernatural entity. It encompasses what we might call the psyche. mind and heart. Soul Loss, or fragmentation, can manifest itself as a loss of vitality, depression or severe mental disorientation."
As she finished speaking they reached the steps. Everyone concentrated on a safe descent, the steps were wet with sea-spray and they needed to put their full attention on the task in hand. It took five more minutes to reach the shelf like beach below and another five to cross the uneven ground to the cave entrance, the rocks were dangerously slippery and the waves were breaking further up the beach than Duncan liked.
Catriona's level of anxiety rose. If Cassandra was trying to perform a soul loss ceremony, and there was little doubt in her mind that she was, then she herself would have to perform a real soul loss ceremony. Whilst she was more than capable of doing so she realised that, with an audience, it would be tricky - and that there would be a conflict of interests. She might have to break a promise in order to fulfil the requirements of the ceremony, but then again, she was sworn to prevent suffering - both physical and mental, and since both Methos and Cassandra were suffering physically and mentally she could see little chance of avoiding breaking one oath in order to keep another.
Sighing deeply she stepped across the narrow stretch of beach to the cave entrance. As they crossed the threshold the immortals stiffened at the tingle that indicated they had entered Holy Ground. The sensation washed over Catriona too and she paused, closing her eyes as she analysed the feelings and breathed with relief as she felt the benign yet powerful presence emitted by this place. Cassandra had chosen well. All the elements were here, Earth, Air and Water met here, and the cave was formed by volcanic activity, thus giving fire its place, and unless she missed her guess the pool form her vision was geothermal; heated by underground ducts of molten lava from the ring of fire that encompassed the Pacific Ocean. A good choice then, but still there was the concern that Cassandra was not employing the correct rites of a Soul Loss Ceremony as she should, thereby possibly placing them all in danger.
Ahead of them they could see a warm glow and they moved carefully towards it. The air fairly buzzed around them as if it were alive. Even Joe could fell it and it made him shiver. A low level discordant hum arose and enveloped them. The sound was unpleasant and grated on their ears. it upset Joe's musical sensibilities, the noise set his teeth on edge as if it was fingernails scraping on a blackboard. Nevertheless he tried to ignore it, anxious as he was to help save his friend from whatever peril presented itself, he followed his companions further into the cave.
They reached the open space of the chamber and Duncan gasped as he saw how Cassandra was taking her vengeance. He looked aghast at the naked figure of his friend as it hung in a mockery of a crucifixion. Chained to a large standing stone surrounded by water he was covered in sweat and blood was welling from several deep wounds, more cuts appeared as he watched.
Cassandra stood in a circle of white sand which encompassed the pool and the stone to which the spread-eagled figure of the oldest immortal was fastened with both chains and metal stakes. In her right hand she held a very thin silver blade with copper or bronze decoration, obviously meant for ritual use. In her left hand she held a small green basin lined with bronze, into which , it seemed, she had gathered some of Methos blood, hair and flesh. A slight vapour was rising from the basin. The stench of decay permeated the arena, the sweet cloying scent of death made them all gag. As they watched, transfixed with horror by the scene before them, Cassandra began chanting in a monotone and the discordant hum grew in volume.
Cassandra seemed totally unaware of their presence as she made bold cutting movements in the air with her knife. As she did so, corresponding gashes appeared on Methos' body. It was obvious that his had been going on for some time since the ground beneath Methos' rock was slick with blood and gore and the pool was fouled at the edge nearest the rock. The reddish brown tinge marring the perfection of the jade pool which would otherwise appear as a bright jewel in a dull environment.
Methos regained awareness suddenly and as always was wracked with coughing as he drew his first breath and his lungs sought to expel the fluids that had gathered there during his last temporary death. He was confused for a moment. The metal stakes which had been driven through his palms were bigger than the nails the Romans used in crucifixions and the metal cuffs that encircled his wrists were not standard Roman issue either. It was the hum that made him open his eyes to see Cassandra and it all came flooding back, the kidnapping, the ceremony and, slamming into him like a runaway train, the pain.
If he had hope for a grace period to get himself together for the next onslaught he was to be sorely disappointed. He gasped as Cassandra made a move with her knife and his torso was split from his throat to his navel. Searing white-hot agony took him and he would have screamed, but somehow he had neither the breath nor the voice to do so. His whole body tensed. his lips drew back, baring his teeth, in a gruesome facsimile of a smile - or perhaps it was more like the rictus seen on mummified corpses long dead. He barely had time to register the fact that the knife itself had made no contact with his body before Cassandra drew another line in the air and his belly was slashed from side to side, a few seconds later and corresponding slashes appeared on each of his thighs.
He was unsure whether his inability to vocalise the agonising pain was due to his physical debilitation or to Cassandra's use of enchantments. He was aware of an animal keening emanating from his throat and that it was becoming more muted with each pass of Cassandra's knife, with each tortured breath he took. He could feel the life that had so recently returned to him draining from his body. It felt like the tide going out. He was about to lose consciousness again when he dimly registered the fact that others had entered the cavern, and two more immortals among them. He exhaled slowly. One immortal buzz called clearly in his head. Duncan!
The damned boy scout was here. The cavalry had arrived. He could not decide if he was relieved or annoyed. His head dropped down onto his chest and he slipped into death once more.
end of chapter 41.
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