The wolf found them in the middle of the deserted city, a grey blur racing through across the patchy cobblestones of the square and rising in a great leap over half crumbled mausoleum before slamming into Spike. The vampire, startled out of his reverie, let out a string of curses a Russian sailor would approve of and went down under the weight of fur and gleaming fangs.
Saul, sitting cross-legged and serene, like a haggard Buddha on the roof, smiled slowly.
"Ruv!" Faith screamed and tumbled from the roof to leap upon the pair, and Remy swore and stepped aside, grinning like a loon. Methos winced and stumbled as Dawn shrieked and jumped onto his foot. "Jesus wept, Rory!"
"It's a wolf!"
Spike was still cursing as he untangled himself from the mess of paws and legs and wolf and Slayer. Faith looked up and frowned at Dawn sternly. "It's Ruv."
Dawn looked at Jamie, mind working as she tried to remember. "Doesn't that mean wolf in Romani?"
Jaime, smiled proudly over her head at Methos. "That's right Dawn. That's exactly what it means. I'm a great teacher. I rule. I, if I do say so myself, is an incomparable example of masterful pedagogue."
"I'm surprised you know what pedagogue means." Methos grumbled softly, still rubbing his foot. "And I still say it's a waste of time to learn that gibberish."
Spike nodded in dour agreement. "Pretentious twaddle. Maybe fifty real Gypsies in the tribes but no, everyone wants to be the next bloody 'Ralda."
"What's up, " Dawn asked very calmly, digging her toe into the Immortal's ankle. "With the huge-ass wolf, licking Faith?"
Jaime chocked a highly inappropriate snigger and turned hastily away. Remy shook his head, his smile suddenly looking tired. "Chillens... Play nice. And, Rory, you should know the doggie."
Faith glared up at the Cajun. "Who you calling a doggie, swamp boy?"
Her momentary distraction allowed the somewhat rumpled beast to slip through her deceptively slender arms and pad softly over the warm cobblestones. Dawn squeaked quietly and almost retreated but something held her in place as the wolf approached her, stopping mere inches away. It wasn't simply gray she saw now; the black highlights streaked through the matted fur. And it was... "Big." she whispered softly, unaware she was speaking aloud.
The wolf, sinking to its haunches, raised its head and its pale green eyes met hers almost at the level.
The sounds of the caravan fell suddenly away and the world telescoped inward to those eyes. Green and laughing and sadly wise beyond all words. The same eyes she remembered all too well glancing at her over the lacquered wood of the chipped guitar as the world was ending outside her door.
"Oz."
***
The cities were the most dangerous places of all. Dawn learnt it quickly, everyone who wanted to survive in the Shadowlands did. Cities were dangerous.
"It is because their magic is corrupted now." Saul told her as they moved cautiously through the streets full of wind and crumbled stones.
"Without people... they're sick. Not right. Dangerous."
Zuny snorted in a warning challenge as a pile of broken crates and rotting paper shifted slightly. The wolf growled, sniffed and relaxed as a pack of rats skittered across the pavement. Zuny snorted in disgust and cautiously moved forward.
"Where are we going?" From her perching place on the roof of the wagon Dawn could see Spike and Faith and the wolf walking ahead of the caravan. If they were talking it was too soft to carry. Remy and Adam lagged behind. She hugged her knees closer to her chest, suddenly missing the sound of the voices. "Saul?"
The black bearded shaman was whistling softly as he handled the reins, and apparently did not hear the quiet query. Jamie did of course.
"Gonna catch up with the rest of this sorry family." He grinned up at her and swung the coat he was carrying over his right shoulder in a wide proprietary arc. "How do you like the place, kid?"
"I'm not a kid," she retorted mechanically and shivered slightly despite the warm wind and the summer sun. "It's kinda creepy."
"Tell me about it," he agreed and squinted towards Saul with a slightly pained expression as the latter switched from whistling to humming.
"Y'know, " the mutant noted musingly, "There is something very unwholesome about this."
"What?"
Maddrox glanced at her, the corner of the mouth turning up. "And Lo, the King of Israel doeth driveth the buggy and he doeth directeth the dinosaur with furious righteousness and lo he doeth humeth 'Benny the Moocha' with great and mighty enthusiasm. And hardly any right notes at all."
Dawn looked at him blankly and Jamie sighed. "He doeth suck. Eth."
She grinned a little spitefully, "Ever heard the one about the glass houses and stones?"
"Yeah. But see I ain't royalty."
Dawn stared at him then for a long moment before glancing at Saul who was still humming quietly into his beard. "Is he for real?"
"Very rarely." Saul smiled at her and she giggled slightly as Jamie sputtered his indignation below them. "But true enough. I am a man who would to be king."
"And now he's but the king of swing." Jamie muttered vindictively and Saul's lips quirked.
"True enough."
"No. Wait. " Dawn suddenly felt the strange melancholy fall away and she stared at the man driving the wagon with undisguised curiosity. "Like... is he... I mean seriously? You are THAT Saul?"
"The one and only." Jamie confirmed and Dawn jerked her shoulder in unvoiced irritation, still looking at Saul. "Really? I mean... Honestly?"
She broke off, suddenly embarrassed, remembering the unvoiced rule of asking questions about people's pasts. And Saul's humming seemed more strained now, the easy smile gone and shadows falling across the gaunt and somber face.
She mumbled an apology and he waved the words away. Forgotten. No problems. But the awkwardness remained and the day seemed to get colder still.
She tried her best to make her departure nonchalant but knew that the awkward excuses about stretching her legs sounded strained and foolish. Still Saul just nodded and slowed slightly to let her down.
Jaime snorted quietly, knowingly and she elbowed him. "Shuddap."
***
The reins feel light, the leather sliding between his fingers. The feeling is familiar and not. That day the leather was slick with blood from a shoulder cut, slippery and worn, tricky to hold in tiring hands, making the axe a dead weight.
-*-
"I wasn't there," Jamie admitted. "But I heard the story. The Shift opened right at the top of the mountain and there he was."
-*-
Gilboa, Saul thinks, the rock of ages, the breaker of my dreams. He remembers sitting there, unsure when his legs gave out, his back to the boulder scarred by arrows. He remembers sitting there as Philistines drew closer and thinking back to the night before.
-*-
"I can just see it, y'know?" Jamie squinted into the sun and sighed, fingers unconsciously flexing. "Saul surrounded by them, beard and hair matted and sticky with blood, dead bodies all around. Cursing God."
-*-
He always trusted his instincts. Always. And they never let him down through his rise from just another peasant to Judgeship of the Benjamin Tribe to the throne of Israel entire.
He knew the Dark was coming. Knew it in his bones as he tossed and turned in the sleepless unease. And he was afraid.
-*-
"No, I mean really cursing. Calling a curse of land and blood on Him."
-*-
It was a mistake of course. He should have known better than to let his fears take control of him. Skulking through the night disguised, looking for a witch hiding from his own decree against diviners and practitioners of the Art. Afraid. Like him.
-*-
"So at first Methos was the only one of them who could talk to him at all. I mean, not a whole lot of ancient Hebrew speakers running around."
-*-
"A god I saw coming up out of the earth." The old woman told him and cackled, knowing the end was nigh. That tomorrow he would stand alone. And she called Samuel from beyond the grave to taunt him once again and say that God had forsaken him. Abandoned Saul, his Chosen and the Kingdom he had built would fall to a desert bandit who led the Philistines into his kingdom. Who now had Yahweh's favor.
He had not eaten in days. He had not slept. There was a time he could go weeks like so. But now he was old and the ground moved beneath his feet and blackness screamed behind his eyes and he felt faint.
The old woman stood silent, watching and then she sighed.
"Let me share my meal with you oh King of yesterdays. Eat of my bread and the power will come back to be in you. For you will need it on the morrow."
And he did. And the emptiness where his God used to dwell within him bore heavily upon his shoulders. And so he knew fear.
And in the night the Philistines cast David out of their midst, mistrustful and proud fools. Laughing at them he departed. For the blood of the rightful king would not be on his hands before the eyes of Israel and God.
And then there was Gilboa.
The damned Mount, rock of ages, the breaker of my dreams.
The battle that had split the world.
Gath, Ashkelon, Ekron, Ashdod and Gaza. Five haughty kings, the Axis Lords of Philistia and their proud hosts.
They could not hold. Too few, too tired. They could not hold. And yet they did, till dusk, the crimson bloody sun sinking into the night, they were still standing. His sons, the pride of Israel.
They stood, they were his shield, Malchishua and Abindab his littlest, the almost-boy who bought his manhood there, on Gilboa's slopes, and paid for it in blood.
His sons, the blood of his blood, the flesh of his flesh. And Jonathan, the same but for the will of the Betrayer-God. They stood there back-to-back, a wall of flesh, a living shield for him. They stood and the might of Canaan trembled before them.
And so he knew pride.
The darkness fell but still they did not dare to approach. And so the
archers came.
And so his sons died.
By raven locks the severed head of his eldest son was raised above the killing fields and so he knew despair.
"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabach-thani?" he asked and wept, cradling the body, heedless of the enemies and stalking death. "My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken Me?"
And Yahweh laughed, the night sky thundering, the bolts of the Killer-God splitting darkness.
The arrows fell like rain and he could not remember how he came to be sitting against that boulder, unsure when his legs gave out. But the Philistines grew closer and he still had strength enough to rise and meet them, to lose himself in blood and pain and death.
Until the Lord of Hosts smiled and decided it was time for him to die.
The bronze shattered then and of the axe but haft remained. There and then among the bodies of his clan he looked upon his sword and thought that maybe it was time to go. To follow his sons and have a talk with Yahweh face to face.
And so he knew peace. He laughed then, and looked upon the sky and said the forbidden name of God unto the world to hear.
And the Creation trembled, horrified and in its dread splintered before the wrath of Most High.
And so he knew hate.
-*-
"The Good Book tells us, " Remy said, smiling crookedly as Jamie let out a startled yelp at his sudden words, "That Saul was punished for his mercy."
Dawn looked at him and Methos, who had came up softly behind them. Gambit continued, while the Immortal listened silently, inscrutable. "The God through the prophet Samuel told Saul to visit destruction upon the Amalekites and spare not the men, nor women or the children." Remy glanced up at the hunching, brooding figure on the wagon's roof. "And Saul the king and Saul the man went against the prophet of his God and spared his enemies. And God turned away from Saul and took away his realm and another was anointed as king of Israel."
"David."
Dawn glanced at Methos, unsure of the tone as he bit out the name.
Remy just nodded, the devil-eyes again flickering to the figure darkened against the clear summer sun. "We found him there, on Mount Gilboa, hurlin' his hate into the face of God. He thought that his curse had cracked the world."
Dawn swallowed as the quietly knowing alien eyes stared, weighed and assessed. She felt her lips move. "But... he knows now, right? You told him? It's not his fault."
Remy smiled again, the cigarette gripped loosely between gleaming teeth. "We told him, chere. Whether he knows... " He was still staring at her. "Do you?"
-*-
"Partake of my bread Oh King of yesterdays and the power shall return to you."
He wonders still if the old witch knew what she had awakened in him on that night. Wonders if she saw the future. If she knew what the blood-bond would seal into his soul.
-*-
"Hate," Remy says and inhaling slowly savors the acrid taste, "be a powerful thing, Dawnie."
It is the first time he calls her that and she feels slight blush working its way up her neck and hates herself a little because of it. But he simply goes on.
"Perhaps if we had known..." He pauses, then shrugs and grins, "We would have still bonded him. Or he would have had to leave. But...' He shrugs again, the gesture underlining the vagaries and inevitability of fate. "The ritual awakened somethin' and when it was done he was a houghan, a witch."
"A shaman." Jamie corrects him haughtily and Remy rolls his eyes. "Qui, whatever."
Methos, quietly, bitterly. "We should have seen it coming."
"How?" Remy doesn't look at him but there is no laughing undertones in his words any more. "How could we have known?"
"But... " Dawn interjects, suddenly wary of the silent currents between her men. "What's so bad about having magic? Or... is he addicted? Like Wi-"
"Yes." Methos says as Remy answers, "No."
Jamie snorts and Dawn glances back at forth unsure. "Huh?"
"For an act of mercy his kingdom, his sons and his destiny was taken away from him. Hate be a powerful thing, petite. And a heady feeling it is too, so perhaps Daronne here has it right. Our shaman-king as at war with God, chere. And Saul is tribe now. His war is ours. Yours and mine." Gambit's lips compress in an unhappy smile.
"God's first shot went wide. Next move is Saul's. And as fate would have it he no longer an ordinary man."
"He never was." Methos counters softly and Remy glances at him but doesn't disagree.
-*-
It was incredible. The time slowed and fell out of the word and he tumbled into stopped infinity as his blood struck the singing bowl and he was suddenly a tribe and one and many and never alone again.
He could feel every man and woman who called themselves a Peregrinus and bore the crescent scar somewhere on their body. Across the worlds and Shifts he felt his clansmen and holy places and the magic of his old gods broiled in him and he could hear in the distance Yahweh howl and he laughed.
And so he knew power.
-*-
"Methos told you most of it. It happens. Technology or pure instinct - anythin' to get an edge. The People use a blood-bond." The cigarette's smoldering remnant fell lightly to the pavement and Gambit rolled up his sleeve to show a curving scar on the back of his right arm.
"A ritual. Magic. At first, they say you can feel everyone who ever was tribe, alive or dead. It fades wit' time."
"You can control the Shifts." Dawn whispered, her throat dry.
Jamie laughed and Remy grinned but Methos remained somber, pale clever eyes narrowed in thought or memory.
"Don't we wish." Jamie sighed. "Nothing even close. It's just in some people," he grimaced. "Witches mostly, the freaky voodoo cutting thing triggers something. Like a psi-link..." He registered Dawn's blank look and sighed again. "It's like... a metal detector! Yeah! Only for people. Well the People."
He snickered again. "And it's friggin' wonky as hell. But..." he shrugged under Remy's stare. "It's better than nothing, I guess. Only way to get back together if we get separated and stuff. Plus..." he grinned, happily now. "the festivals."
"'Cept Saul wasn't a witch, wasn't a sorcerer, wasn't a mutant." Remy shrugged. "Well. What's done is done. He's our obeah Doc for good or ill. When he say jump we do."
"Unless you say different of course, mon capitan."
Again Methos's green eyes locked with red and black and Remy's lips stretched in bleak and empty smile. "That's right, mon ami. Unless you want to be sayin' different?"
The tension rose suddenly as two tall men stared at each other, silence growing heavier with every passing second.
"All right!" Jamie sniffed loudly, "This is fun and all but I think I'll let you kids play by yourselves. Don't use matches. Let's go Dawnie, before they whip out their private parts and start measuring them or something."
Dawn nodded firmly and snuck her hand under his, sighing disdainfully. "Boys."
Before they walked away she enjoyed seeing Methos blanch and Remy cough in embarrassed almost-laughter.
***
To Be Continued...