third part Full Circle chap 14

Soon the men stood lined up in formation, shields and swords at ready with the calvery behind the first wave of men. Grayson rode his way through them to the front then down the line as he inspected them. He was well aware of all the eyes which were upon him waiting, wondering in anticipation of the battle ahead.

It wasn't like it had been with Darius with Grayson at his side as the men watched and waited for him to speak. They needed to hear the words to inspire their courage, to hear words which gave them honor in their fight, to hear words which would soothe their hearts in the coming battle where their lives would be at stake.

But the words failed to come to Grayson's lips and so he rode in silence, glancing every now and then at the vast army which was spread out over the plain opposite his own.

A thundering cry was heard; he turned his head to look and saw the Huns running towards them the archers stringing arrows while at a dead run, then letting them fly to bring death to those unfortunate ones hit by them.

Silently the arrows began hitting their marks and men began to fall about him. He swiftly brought up and slashed downwards his swords as a signal to attack.

Immedidately, his men swarmed around him, screaming and crashing headlong into the Huns after meeting them midway. The din was deafening with cries, screams, war chants and prayers from both sides colliding in mid-air.

The commotion forced Grayson to wheel his horse about hard at which the beast reared then crashed downwards crushing a man in the process. He hung on then both he and his horse leapt forwards into the fray. He slashed, blocked and parried his way forward as he tried to get to what he assumed to be the commander of the Huns but soon was pushed backwards away form the man.

Glancing about him, he realized that it was hard to determine what losses he had experienced let alone if victory would be in their hands today. He beat off another man, slicing through his skull as if an eggshell, then retreated aiming for a small knoll that he could see what the whole of the battle looked like below him.

After much effort, he made his way to the top and paused, gasping for breath while surveying the scene below him. He wiped the blood, sweat and splattered brains off as he assesed the progress of the battle then slowly he smiled. "Maybe victory is mine!" he chortled. "Maybe it is!"

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Methos groaned and opened his eyes to look around at the damage done by the arrows to both Darius and himself. He noted the number of arrows either embedded in the ground or them then heard a noise behind him.

Looking quickly to his rear he saw that they were not alone as he had hoped but was indeed surrounded by men with faces like tanned leather, high cheekbones, and eyes which slanted into an almond like shape.

Each man was garbed in a different array of clothing, each piece of clothing brightly colored; yet over it lay padded breastplates of cloth stuffed and quilted with animal hair. Also he noted grimly were dozens of bows each individually notched with arrows ready for release that were pointed at them.

Silently he swore; he calmly began removing the arrows one by one from him, gasping as he pulled them from his body or if necessary, breaking them off and forcing the arrow completely through him before he could remove it. The pain was staggering and it made him groan in agony.

The Huns meanwhile watched fascinated yet horrified of the man who sat in front of them bleeding from the many wounds upon him yet healing before their eyes. Was he a God sent from thier heaven? Or was he something else?

Darius never moved nor stirred during the time it took Methos to remove, heal and come to his feet again. As he did the latter, the Huns moved back away from him in fear a fact which he noted and began to use in his favor.

"Tell your leader to come to me swiftly. I am most displeased that you would treat me in such a manner!" Methos said in a sing-song type of their language. He had to suppress a smile when he saw the very real look of fear cross their features as they listened to his orders.

They conferred then one man was sent away. He soon returned followed by an immense man on horseback, fierce in his demeanor and looks. "Who are you?" he demanded to know.

Methos looked sternly at him then replied, "A god who holds the power of life and death in my hands!" He strode over to where Darius lay and quickly checked him over to see why he hadn't revived yet, but found nothing until he began pulling out the arrows none to gently, from him.

An arrow and its' shaft which had broken off lay deeply buried in Darius' back with only the slightest edge revealing its' presence. He felt around for the angle of it and judged the best way to remove it. He glanced up at the commander. "Watch while I bring the man to life before your eyes!" With that, he shoved the arrow downwards and through him so that it emerged from his chest cavity.

In a matter of moments, Darius coughed and opened his eyes, then braced himself on his elbows as he struggled to sit up. He glanced at Methos who held a sword in his hand and who smiled icily at him then at all the men who surrounded them. "

The Huns were convinced and needed no further proof that before them was a god of some sort. He had brought back the dead and had spoken in thier language when met.

Despite this, Methos still grabbed hold of Darius and softly said, "Smile, Darius. Now your life is mine!" then shoved the blade deep into Darius again.