All my life

All my life (Meri saari zindagi) by Leoni Venter

Prologue

The sun seemed to rise dripping from the lake. For an instant molten drops clung to the horizon, then it tore itself free and rose triumphantly above the tree tops, evaporating the last vestiges of night in mere moments. On the shore of the lake two men dressed in pure white stood with their arms stretched wide, basking in the light for a few more minutes.

Unconventional it might be, this version of Suryanamaskar, the Sun Greeting, but Raj Aryan did not care. It was a given that he would do things his way, finding beauty and love in life and everything he did. As he had explained to his companion once, he did not have a battle going on with the sun, so there was no need to stare it down every morning. He appreciated the beauty of the morning, and the time spent with Narayan Shankar, his father in law in all but actual fact. The bond they shared, that of love for Megha, Shankar's daughter, made them as close as father and son, and even though she had died years before, she was there with them, personified in the beauty of the day.

As they walked back from the lakeshore to the imposing buildings of Gurukul, the college that he was principal of, Raj reflected on everything that had changed in the year since he had taken over from Narayan Shankar. Once rigidly ruled by Shankar, based on tradition, honour and discipline, the gurukul's corridors were now filled with music and laughter. Raj led by love, lived as example and inspired his students and staff with his positive outlook on life. Even Narayan Shankar was no longer the bitter, lonely man he had been, mellowing in the company of the man his daughter had loved and died for.

Yes, it had been a good year. The autumn winds were once again blowing leaves to swirl around their ankles, but such was the warmth of love in their surroundings, that no one could begrudge the end of summer.

Chapter 1

Two students came to fetch Raj late one afternoon, when the winter snows had already thrown a white blanket over the grounds and surrounding hills. They had found someone lying in the snow, close to the gate but hidden by the drifts. Raj followed them quickly, worried that one of his students might have become ill, but when he looked at the figure lying there, he knew it was a stranger … a foreigner, by his pale skin. He was clutching a backpack and looked blue from the cold, and Raj and the two students half-carried him inside and deposited him on the sofa closest to Raj's fireplace to thaw him out. Thanking and dismissing the students, Raj found a blanket and wrapped the man in it, then made some strong coffee, which he gave to the man in a mug.

The man, who at first had been almost unconscious, seemed to huddle instinctively toward the fire, and spent some minutes just shivering violently, holding the mug, giving Raj time to study him. He had black hair, cut very short and standing up in unruly spikes around his head. Hazel eyes were too preoccupied to notice his surroundings. His face was striking, with sharply defined cheekbones and a prominent nose. His skin was extremely pale, in sharp contrast with his dark hair. Looking at him, Raj could not decide where in the world he might have come from. He did not look English; his features were more Slavic than anything. But the dark hair and eyes could have placed him in the Middle East or India, if it weren't for the light skin. Giving up, Raj decided to wait until the man could speak for himself.

After a few minutes, the shivering subsided, and the man started to look around him. Seeing Raj seated in a chair opposite him, the man carefully put down the mug, placed his hands together and greeted him. "Namaste."

Surprised, Raj returned the greeting. "Namaste. I am Raj Aryan. How are you feeling now?"

The man gave a shrug. "Better, thank you. Call me Adam."

"English?" Raj asked, still not sure, even though Adam's accent did sound English.

"England, and other places," Adam replied in fluent Hindi. "I have spent many years living in India, and all over the world." He took a sip of coffee. "Thank you for bringing me inside."

"No problem," Raj replied cheerfully. "What happened? Why were you out in the snow like that?"

"Would you believe I got lost?" Adam asked with a grin. "I was hiking, it's such beautiful country, and I just got lost in the hills last night. And this afternoon's snowstorm was too much for me. I was trying to reach the town, but I seem to have missed it … by the way, where am I?"

Raj shook his head. Trust foreigners to go hiking in the hills in winter. "You're at Gurukul. We're a few miles from town; one of the boys can drive you there if you want."

"Gurukul? You're kidding!" Adam exclaimed. "I was on my way to Gurukul…" He started going through the pockets of the trench coat he was wearing, and came up with a crumpled piece of paper, which he unfolded carefully. "I got this letter from Mr. Narayan Shankar, to come here to apply for a teaching position."

"Teaching?" Raj was nonplussed. Since Raj had taken over as principal, Narayan Shankar did not concern himself with the administration of Gurukul any more. He seemed to take his retirement seriously and although he knew all the students and dispensed advice when asked, he spent most of his time these days writing and meditating. To find that he had invited this man to come teach here was surprising. "Teaching what?"

"Languages," Adam explained. "Mr. Shankar and I met once at a conference where I served as interpreter for a number of people. We got to talking and I must have told him where I was staying, because two months ago this letter arrived. As I thought a change of scene would do me good, I decided to come."

"I see," Raj said. "So, Mr …"

"Oh, sorry, Pierson," Adam replied. "Adam Pierson, at your service."

"Right. Mr. Pierson." Raj resumed. "Which languages can you teach my students?"

Adam laughed. "Which languages do you want me to teach them? I speak English, Russian, Arabic, Chinese, Hebrew, French, German, Dutch, Polish, Hungarian … well, about the only ones I can't speak are African languages… except Egyptian."

It was Raj's turn to say, "You're kidding!"

"No, unfortunately not," Adam said. "I just have a knack for languages. I suspect if I spend enough time in Africa I'll speak those too."

"Amazing," Raj said. "Well, I think we could do with a language teacher here, but we can discuss that in the morning. Meanwhile, you'll be my guest tonight. It's just about time for dinner, will you join us?"

* * *

Dinner at Gurukul had changed as much as everything else. What used to be a stiff, formal affair with barely a word spoken if Mr. Shankar was present, was now a joyous sharing of the day's experiences, made all the more wonderful by the presence of Raj Aryan, who had a moment to share and smile to spare for each and every one of his students.

He led Adam into the dining hall and ousted another teacher from his usual seat to make space for the visitor. As the food was dished up, Raj surveyed the smiling faces of the students, well pleased with their progress and even more pleased with their obvious happiness. His goal to fill Gurukul with love was succeeding, and succeeding spectacularly well.

When everyone was seated and eating, Raj stood up. "We have a visitor here with us tonight, Mr. Adam Pierson. He came in from the cold this afternoon, and if you are interested, he may be staying with us."

A ripple of surprise went through the gathered group as Raj continued. "Mr. Pierson is offering to teach you any language you might want to learn. If enough of you are interested in taking an extra language course, I will offer him the position. What do you think?"

In the murmur of voices that followed this statement, Raj bent down to face the astounded Pierson. "It's not really a democracy, my friend. But I like to know what my students think about changes at Gurukul." Adam nodded, understanding.

Within a minute or so, the voices died down and one boy stood up. "Sir, we think it is a very good idea. Please ask Mr. Pierson to stay."

"Thank you, Vikram," Raj replied. "Gentlemen, enjoy your meal." He sat down and resumed his meal.

"Thank you, Mr. Aryan," Adam said. "I appreciate this."

"You're welcome, Mr. Pierson," Raj said, feeling suddenly too formal. "Please call me Raj."

"I will, Raj, if you call me Adam," Adam replied with a smile, holding out his hand.

Raj shook it. "Welcome to Gurukul, Adam."

* * *

Later that evening Raj went to visit Narayan Shankar in his house on the grounds of Gurukul. The old man was sitting in front of the fire, eyes closed, with a smile on his face that made him look every bit as sweet as Megha had always told Raj he was. Raj almost felt sorry to disturb him, but Shankar felt his presence and opened his eyes.

"Raj, come in, come, sit down."

Raj found a seat. "A man joined the teaching staff today, Babuji. A foreigner named Adam Pierson. He says you invited him."

Shankar smiled. "Ah, he's finally come. Yes, Raj, I asked him to come. I thought he could make a good contribution to our student's lives."

"I agree," Raj said. "But a foreigner? There's never been a foreign teacher here at Gurukul." As he said it, he realized how that sounded, and was smiling sheepishly even before Shankar started laughing.

"Now you sound like me, my son."

Raj felt a moment of bittersweet happiness, to hear Shankar call him 'son'. It was everything he had wished for, when he came here. It was Megha's gift to him, and to her father.

"You don't sound like that anymore, Babuji," he said softly, getting up.

Shankar rose too, and Raj bent down to touch his feet. Shankar gave him his blessing and pulled him upright. "I know. How grateful I am for the changes you brought. Goodnight, Raj."

"Goodnight Father," Raj said, and left.

* * *

Outside, the moonlight made the snow covered landscape a fairytale wonderland. Raj drank in the star-drenched night, savouring the crisp clear air, marvelling at the quiet surroundings. Then Megha, dancing lightly across the snow, grabbed his hand and pulled him into a wild run that ended with both of them falling laughingly into the snow.

"Oh Megha," Raj said when he had gotten his breath back. "It is all coming true. Didn't you say it would? Didn't I believe it?"

"It is happening, Raj," she agreed. "Every day brings more happiness into the world. Sometimes small things bring large changes. Sometimes large things bring small changes. Change the world for the better, Raj. Change your world, and that will make the world better for everyone."

"I do believe that," Raj said, pulling her up. "I believe it with all my heart."

And they danced on over the white wonderland.

The winter snow creates an empty page Where the hand of love can write its tale Hearts join together on the open stage Brought closer through life's silent gale

Happiness and sorrow, hearts beat as one Even in the darkness the stars are shining

Seven wonders the ancients did build Pyramids, temples, gardens of old Didn't they know the heart of the world Was not to be found in treasure of gold

Happiness and sorrow, hearts beat as one Even in the darkness the stars are shining

Life rushes by at incredible speed All we can do is hold on tight And spread our love to those in need Then love will shine out clear and bright

Happiness and sorrow, hearts beat as one Even in the darkness the stars are shining

From the window of his room, Adam Pierson watched in perplexity as the principal of Gurukul ran alone, laughing and dancing through the snow like a child.

Chapter 2

The next morning it was Raj's turn to watch Adam, if not in perplexity, then in wonder. He found Adam outside, stripped to the waist, performing a series of complicated katas with a gleaming sword, which he wielded as if it was an extension of himself. The cold did not seem to bother him, and Raj could see he was almost in a trance, flowing through the movements with the ease of long practice. His sinewy muscles had not an ounce of fat on them, and his pale skin gleamed with sweat even in the cold winter dawn. As Raj watched, some of the boys noticed the display and when Adam finally brought the sword to the resting position and became aware of his surroundings, he had an appreciative audience applauding him.

Adam smiled shyly and seemed for a moment at a loss about what to do with the sword. Then he left it standing upright in the ground and brought his hands up to greet them. "Namaste."

Raj looked at his excited students. "Good morning Mr. Pierson," he said. "Now none of them will be interested in learning a language anymore."

Adam could see that was true, because already they were brimming over with questions about his sword and the katas he had been doing. "I can teach this too," he said, shrugging. "Whatever you want, Mr. Aryan." He bent down to retrieve his shirt and sword and started walking back to the house, leaving Raj and the boys looking a bit bewildered after him.

"Go get your breakfast," Raj told the boys and followed Adam, wondering about his strange behaviour.

"What happened, Adam?" he asked when he came inside, spotting Adam standing at the window looking out. "That was amazing, what you were doing. I don't mind it at all."

Adam sighed. "Nothing happened, Raj. I'm sorry, I…" He sat down abruptly. "I was just reminded of something that I wanted to forget. It won't happen again."

Raj studied him for a moment. It did not take psychic abilities to see that Adam was suffering from some strong emotion, and it was not joy. "Tell me?"

Adam gave him a startled look. "Tell you what? I came here for a change of scene, but my memories followed me. I'll get over it eventually, don't worry."

"Al right," Raj sighed. "But if you want to talk …"

"Thank you." Adam shook off his depression with a visible effort. "So, you say you don't mind the sword practice?"

"No, indeed. Where did you learn to do that? And why?" Raj could not help being enthusiastic. There was something about seeing a master at work that inspired him, and Adam was clearly a master.

"It's a long story," Adam said with a strange smile. "I've been practicing martial arts of various kinds all my life. Sword practice like this is marvellous exercise, and it disciplines the mind and the body. If your students are interested, I won't mind them joining me. You're welcome too."

"You'll be working very hard, Adam, teaching several languages and these sword katas too," Raj said.

"That's what I came to do," Adam said, rising. "Keep me busy, Raj. Keep me busy every moment of the day." He swallowed hard. "That way I won't have time to remember."

He stalked out, leaving Raj's heart aching in compassion. "Megha," he whispered. "Will we find happiness for this man too?"

* * *

Over the next few weeks, it became clear that Adam meant what he had said. He learned all the students' names in the first five days, and had started individual and group classes in seven different languages. Every morning he trained with his sword, demonstrating each kata patiently to the boys who joined him.

One thing was certain; he was an excellent teacher who very soon had the respect and admiration of the students. Within a few days he had become part of their lives to such an extent that they would have been surprised to think that he was a foreigner. He had a perfect talent for blending in.

Raj watched him work himself to exhaustion every day, unable to think of a way to help him without knowing what troubled him. If Adam did not want to remember, how could Raj ever find out? It pained him to see someone so unhappy in his domain, but it seemed to him that Adam actually avoided speaking to him, so he never really got the chance to probe further into the mysteries that the man presented.

Narayan Shankar could not help either. He had met Adam only once before, more than a year ago, and told Raj that Adam had seemed perfectly happy then. Apart from the usual pleasantries, Adam also did not speak much with Shankar. He seemed to pour himself into teaching the students everything he knew, as if something was driving him.

Things continued in this vein through the winter.

One afternoon when the sun threw slanted golden rays over the snow-covered garden, Raj took his violin out to the pavilion, where the sun and the wind conspired to create patterns of shadow and light on the snow. Sitting down on the steps, he began to play, just for himself – himself and Megha. It was something he seldom did anymore, firstly because he was busier with the responsibilities of being principal and secondly because he found so much happiness and love around him that he seldom felt the need to play.

But on this winter afternoon, he performed for Megha, who was listening on the edge of his vision, slipping through the sun's rays, playing chupp-a-chuppi (hide-and-seek) in the shadows. He played all the love in his heart, his happiness, his pride in his students, and his love for her father. When he had finished, and the last notes died away, he was shocked to find tears running down his face. And even more shocked, when he stood up, to find Adam standing next to the pavilion, sobbing as if someone had broken his heart.

Raj debated for a moment with himself. Adam needed help, he knew that, but he also did not want to intrude on the man's grief. But his compassion and need to help Adam won, so he pulled him into a loose embrace. "Everything will be al right," he told Adam. "Come inside, my friend. Come inside."

Adam let himself be led meekly to the house, looking with a kind of wonder in his eyes at Raj. As they got to the door, he turned back abruptly. "Where did she go?" he asked, looking around. "Raj, who was she?"

Raj could not believe his ears. He knew Narayan Shankar could see Megha but no one else could. How could they, she was not part of their lives. So how could Adam have seen her?

He pulled Adam into the house and made him sit down. "What did you see?" he asked, almost brusquely, because he could not believe it.

"There was a girl, out there," Adam said. "Listening. She watched you with such love, Raj. But she didn't come closer, I think she was scared of me, I'm sorry."

"Why should she be scared of you?"

"Because of what I am, of course," Adam answered without thinking. "I think she's afraid of what I could do to you." He held his head in his hands. "Because I go through life destroying people."

Raj shook his head, bewildered. "I don't understand, Adam. What are you, that Megha should fear you?"

Adam raised his head. "Megha, is that her name? She is lovely, Raj. You must miss her terribly." He looked at Raj for a long moment. "I have my own ghosts, Raj. Perhaps that's why I can see yours. But you are fortunate; she loves you and watches over you. My ghosts clamour for vengeance, for the rest I deprived them of." He stood up and started pacing back and forth. "Countless thousands, never giving me a moment's peace. Sometimes I think they are trying to drive me mad. Sometimes I think they are succeeding."

"What are you talking about?" Raj asked, completely lost. Surely, Adam could not have thousands of people on his conscience.

Adam groaned. "I am Death, Raj. Wherever I go, people die." He watched the shock grow in Raj's eyes. "It would be better if I left." He turned to the door but stopped abruptly when Raj grabbed his arm. "Let me go, Raj."

"No," Raj said firmly. "Not before I find out exactly what you're talking about. Sit down." To his surprise, Adam did sit down, but Raj could see the grief in Adam's eyes was being replaced by a cold unfeeling mask. He would have to talk quickly, before Adam cut himself off completely.

"Megha doesn't fear you, Adam," he started. "All she wants is to help you, just as I do. Now please tell me what you did, because I can't believe you carry thousands on your conscience."

Adam stared at him for a long time before he sighed. "Do you know who Adam and Eve were?" When Raj nodded, he continued. "Sometimes I feel as old as that Adam. But I can't tell you, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said so much."

Suddenly shouts and the sound of falling planks shattered the afternoon. Raj experienced a moment where his heart froze, as he realized what must have happened. The students were decorating the hall for a dance on the weekend, and they had put up scaffolding to fix the strings of lights to the high walls. Something must have come loose. Before he could move, Adam had jumped up and was running towards the hall. Raj followed as quickly as possible.

When he got to the hall, it was to a scene that confirmed his worst fears. Amidst a pile of rubble lay Vikram, strings of light bulbs still clutched in his hand. Around him stood a circle of boys, too shocked to even panic. Adam, in the process of checking Vikram's pulse, looked up when Raj pushed through the boys. "Call an ambulance, now."

Raj sent one of the boys on the errand, and watched in growing amazement as Adam professionally started to stabilize the injured boy. Ripping up his own shirt, he bound up a nasty gash on Vikram's arm, and then he commandeered Raj's jersey and used it as a temporary splint for the boy's neck. Then, very carefully, Adam picked him up, carried him from under the still threatening scaffolding and laid him down out of further danger, constantly monitoring the boy's pulse and breathing until the ambulance arrived some minutes later and the paramedics took over.

When the ambulance had left, and things had settled down a bit, Raj noticed for the first time that Adam was not to be found anywhere. He hurried back to check Adam's rooms, and sure enough, his things were gone. On the bed lay a note that read, "One less on my conscience."

Raj sat down on the bed, defeated.

Tell me all your sorrows, my friend And we will find them one by one Heal them and forget them Bring laughter in their place

Tell me all your sorrows, my friend And we will write them down And use the pages to feed the flames To warm us in this cold

Tell me all your sorrows, my friend And in the light of the morning sun They will evaporate forever Never to return

Tell me all your sorrows, my friend And I will tell you mine And we will learn to deal with them Together, you and I

Chapter 3

Raj did not notice the strange lightning that night, even though he was not sleeping. For one, there was no thunder, and although the crackling of electricity lit up the woods with an eerie blue glow, it only lasted a few seconds each time. What he did notice, however, was when someone knocked on his door in the early hours of the morning. Raj had a feeling that it might be Adam, but he could not have predicted the state he would be in.

When he opened the door and looked out, there was no one there. Frowning, Raj looked around, certain that his students would not be pulling a prank like this, not with Vikram in hospital. Then he looked down to see Adam, collapsed on his doorstep, holding his drawn sword as if it were his lifeline.

"Adam?" Raj asked, worried about the sword.

Adam stirred and looked up at him. "Hello Raj, do you mind if I come in?" he managed weakly, as he struggled to his feet. Raj took hold of the arm not holding a sword to steady him, and then almost let go as he noticed that Adam had the hilt of a knife sticking out of his back.

"You have a knife…" Raj said, and then realized that Adam must surely know that. "Come in." With Raj's help, Adam managed to get inside, where he propped himself up against a pillar and refused to let Raj call a doctor.

"But you need help," Raj protested, still eyeing the sword warily. In the light, he could clearly see streaks of blood on the blade, and Adam's right hand and arm were covered in blood as well.

Adam, seemingly following Raj's thoughts, dropped the sword, which fell to the floor with a loud clang that did nothing to steady Raj's nerves. "Sorry," Adam muttered. "Look Raj, I do need help, but you're going to have to help me. I can't reach this bloody knife. I need you to pull it out."

"No way," Raj said. "If I pull it out your lung will collapse and you may die. I know enough to know one should never pull out a knife like this. You need to be in hospital."

Adam gave a sigh that would have been exasperated if he had not been so weak. "I know all that, Raj, but if you don't do it, and do it quickly, you will have a dead man on your floor in any case. Please, trust me on this. Pull it out." As he spoke, his knees buckled and he slid down to the floor, so that he ended up on his knees in front of Raj. "Please."

"I can't," Raj said, helplessly. What do you do when someone asked you to do something that will kill him, but if you do nothing, he will die anyway?

"Yes, you can, Raj," Adam said from the floor. "All you do is put your hand on the hilt, and pull." He seemed to wilt in front of Raj's eyes, becoming grey in the face and blue around the lips. "I promise, everything will be al right." He held Raj's gaze with his own, imploring him wordlessly until Raj gave in. Then he nodded slightly. "Do it."

Raj steeled himself, bent over Adam and took the hilt of the knife in as strong a grip as he could manage. Giving himself and Adam a whispered count, "One, two … three!" he pulled the knife out. It resisted for a moment, as if the suction in Adam's lung was holding it back, then it slid out with a sound that would give Raj the creeps for the rest of his life.

Adam tried to stifle the groan of pain that inevitably escaped him, and then reached up to grip Raj's hand. "Good man." His breath began to rattle through the open wound, just as Raj had feared would happen, and he struggled to speak. "Raj, promise me."

Raj, horrified, could only nod.

"Promise me you won't call anyone before dawn."

"But," Raj wanted to argue.

"Promise!" Adam's voice, harsh with effort, left no room for argument, and Raj nodded in agreement. Adam seemed to relax at that, his breath becoming shallower by the moment, until with a final rattle, he died.

Raj stared for a moment at the dead man at his feet, and then noticed that he still held the knife that had killed his friend. He looked at it numbly, then flung it violently away from him and sank down to the floor, utterly and emotionally spent. He could not think what to do. He should call Narayan Shankar; he should call the police. But he could not seem to move; it was as if Adam's final request had cast a spell on him, and he would not be able to do anything until dawn came to release him.

He did not know how long he sat there, staring into nothingness, not thinking about anything. The night was deathly quiet. In the silence, Raj finally became aware of something incongruous. A slight, crackling sound came from the body lying next to him. As the sound continued, Raj found himself overcome with an urge to find out what was causing it. He tried to suppress it but after a while he gave in, moved closer and pulled Adam's coat away to look at the knife wound in his back.

What he saw looked like something straight out of the myths and legends. Around the edges of the wound, blue energy was flowing, pulling the wound closed and healing the flesh. The small sparks looked like electricity and were the source of the crackling sound. Raj watched in wonder, entranced. It could not be. "Brahman," he whispered.

At the word, Adam suddenly drew breath, pulling in air into his lungs with an agonised gasp. For a few moments, he struggled, then his breathing eased and he sat up. "Hello again, Raj," he said, looking at the pool of blood on the floor. "I've made a bit of mess of your sitting room, haven't I?"

Raj could think of only one thing to say. "Who are you?"

Adam smiled ruefully. "I am Methos," he answered, as if the name would mean anything to Raj. "But that's not what you're asking, is it?"

Raj shook his head dumbly. Nothing made any sense to him anymore. Adam had died, and yet, here he was, alive. Raj had seen the brahman power restoring him. Such things were impossible, a matter of stories, not real, were they?

Infinitely more experienced with dying, Adam realized that Raj would need some time to come to grips with what had happened, so he stood up, dragged Raj over to a chair, made him sit down, and started cleaning up his blood from the floor tiles. After a while, Raj went to fetch some rags and water, and helped him.

When the signs of violence were at last removed from the floor, Raj finally spoke. "Adam… what happened? How is this possible?"

"I can tell you now, I suppose," Adam said. "But it's a long story. If you don't want blood on your chairs, you'd let me change first."

The simple actions of finding clothes for Adam restored some sense of normalcy for Raj, as if it made everything less surreal. Finally, as the grey of dawn started to lighten the sky, Adam told Raj his story.

* * *

"There's a race of people living in secret amongst you," he started. "We look as you do, we live as you do. What makes us different is that we don't die like you do." At Raj's questioning look, he elaborated. "No one knows how or why, but the only way that we can be killed is by decapitation. Any other wound heals within minutes; even mortal wounds heal, causing us to revive from apparent death. We call ourselves Immortal, although that isn't really true. Thousands of Immortals have died through the millennia, killed by other Immortals."

"Why?" Raj asked.

"No one knows," Adam answered. "They play the Game: in the end, there can be only one. Some believe the one that remains will win some kind of prize, but no one even knows what the prize is." He ran a hand through his hair. "What happened tonight was part of the stupid Game, but they cheated."

"Someone stuck a knife in your back as part of a game?" Raj asked, incredulously.

"Well, not really," Adam replied. "I was challenged by an Immortal, and we fought." He stopped and sighed. "Raj, I told you that I am Death. That is still true, but please believe me I don't 'play' the Game. I have been hiding here, in truth, but when I left this afternoon, I left the protection of this place. I had to fight to save my life."

"Okay," Raj said, more to get Adam to continue than to indicate that he understood anything.

"I won the duel, but while I was still recovering another Immortal attacked me from behind with the knife. I somehow managed to kill him without losing my own head, but I couldn't remove the knife, which is why I came back. I am sorry for doing this to you."

One thing only had stuck in Raj's mind. "You killed someone?"

Adam nodded. "I killed two people tonight, Raj. Do you wonder about my conscience?" He looked at his hands. "No matter how I try to redeem myself, I am always forced to kill in the end. These hands have more blood on them than you can imagine. Does it surprise you that I am haunted by my past?"

"No," Raj said softly. "How do you bear it?"

"I don't," Adam said grimly. "You're seeing me in a bad spell, normally I hide it better. You'd think I'd have learned not to care by now."

"Not to care?"

"I know, that sounds shocking to you," Adam said. "You care so much that you're willing to sit here and listen to a confessed killer, still trying to find out how to help me. But Raj, sometimes the only way to deal with life is to shut it out, because that shuts out death too. I have spent too many years caring, trying to undo what Death has wrought. It hasn't helped at all." He smiled painfully. "I officially gave up caring three months ago, when Alexa died. That hasn't helped either."

"Alexa?" Raj asked, watching the sky grow brighter. Soon Narayan Shankar would be waiting for him at the lakeshore to greet the sun, but Raj would not be there. He would be here, finally getting the pieces of the puzzle that Adam was, putting them together and making them whole, if he could.

"Alexa was my wife," Adam said softly. "I loved her and married her even though I knew she was dying. I would have destroyed the world to save her, but I couldn't. I buried her in Paris, left my friends without a word and came here, to get away from my memories. And you know what? She didn't follow me, but all the others did."

"I am so sorry," Raj said. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Adam said. "Anyway, I came here, kept busy, safely hidden on Holy Ground, until this afternoon when I foolishly left, forgetting that a world of Immortals would be very happy to see me enter the Game once more. Silly me."

"Wait, wait," Raj interrupted. "Holy Ground?"

"Ah yes, I forgot to mention that, and some other things." Adam seemed to distance himself from the emotion he had been experiencing, and entered a lecturing mode. "There are three rules for Immortals. No fighting on Holy Ground. Once challenge has been issued, none can interfere. There can be only one." He gestured out the window. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but Gurukul is built on Holy Ground, so it's a safe place for me. Monasteries, churches, military bases; they're all off limits for fighting. I don't know what will happen if someone does take a head on Holy Ground, but I don't think I'd like to be around if it ever happens."

"You knew that before you came here?" Raj asked.

"Yes, indeed. I've studied here before, long ago."

Raj frowned. Gurukul had been a college for 125 years, and in that time, it had always been run on tradition, no matter who the principal was. He could not imagine Adam being allowed here at any time before he became principal. "When was this, Adam?"

Adam closed his eyes, thinking. "I can't give you the exact date, unfortunately, but it must have been around 300AD," he said finally, opening his hazel eyes and watching Raj's reaction. "Of course the place looked different then. The woods were more extensive, and the ashram was about where your temple is now. I along with the other shishyas maintained the grounds, wandered the hills and listened to guruji's lectures." He smiled. "Those were simpler times."

"You're …" Raj did a quick calculation. "You're 1700 years old? Unbelievable!"

"No, I didn't say that," Adam answered. "By then I'd been around the world a few times. I am Methos; I'm the oldest of them all."

The sun rose, blinding. Raj did not notice.

Methos Myth

Ancient of ages Sage for an aeon Watching civilizations Rise and fall

A lost soul A life in limbo Wandering the boundaries Of time and space

A poet A scholar Chronicler of the world Ever observing

Myth Methos

Chapter 4

To Raj's consternation, Adam cut short their conversation to go to his normal morning training session. Raj watched him from the house as he did his katas, mirrored by about 20 boys with sticks instead of swords. Somehow he thought that Adam's "death" in his house would make him alter his routine, but after a while he reflected that Adam must have "died" countless times before, and that it was as normal to him as waking up in the morning. This did not, however, take away Raj's feeling that Adam ought to do things differently after the night's revelations.

He wondered what Adam had meant by 'oldest'. Even one thousand years was inconceivable to Raj; Adam had implied several times that. Watching him, Raj marvelled at the grace and strength of his movements. Raj's preconception of the gurus from the legends was always that they were immensely powerful, but they were old men. Capable of amazing feats using the brahman power, for sure, but old men. And here was Adam … Methos … thousands of years old, looking like a man in his early thirties. Using the brahman power to revive from death. Raj did not know what to think. All this was impossible, but the irrefutable fact remained that Adam had died on his floor, and had revived without a mark to show where the knife wound had been.

Raj was so engrossed in watching Adam, that he did not even notice Narayan Shankar come in and join him at the window. When Shankar touched his arm, it still took him a moment to turn and focus on this distraction. Then he realized that Shankar must have wondered where he had been, and suddenly could not think of a thing to say. Bowing in a silent namaste, he left the window and walked indecisively towards a chair, unable to face Shankar's questioning gaze. Finally he turned. "Do you believe in miracles, Babuji?"

"I don't have to believe," Shankar said softly. "I look around me every day and I see one."

Raj smiled, and then wondered at how stiff his face felt, as if he had not smiled in years. "I mean real miracles, Babuji. Something impossible."

"Aren't all miracles impossible?" Shankar asked. "What happened, Raj? What is bothering my son today?"

Asked like that, there was no way Raj could not answer, so he sat down and told Narayan Shankar everything.

* * *

The two of them looked up guiltily when Adam walked through the door; Raj because he was not sure Adam would be pleased that he had told Adam's secret, and Shankar because he was not sure he ought to have heard it. And Adam's reaction, seeing them together, left no doubt that he was upset. He watched them silently for a moment, his face a cold mask. Then he relaxed, laughed, and assumed his normal expression of slight amusement.

"Namaste Shankarji, Raj," he greeted them cheerfully.

Raj got to his feet. "Adam, I'm sorry…"

"Don't worry, Raj," Adam assured him. "I'm not mad at you." He looked around for something, and finally found his coat hanging over the back of a chair. It was crusted with dried blood and had a slash where the knife had gone through. He fingered the slash with irritation. "Do you have a needle and thread that I could use?"

"Why?" Raj asked involuntarily.

"To mend my coat, of course," Adam replied testily. "What I hate most about this silly Game I've been forced to play, is the number of good sweaters and coats that have been ruined through the years."

Raj and Shankar exchanged a look. "But Adam," Raj started hesitantly. "Can't you use the brahman power to mend anything?"

To their surprise, Adam started laughing. In between fits of laughter, he managed to gasp out "Brahman? You think I'm …" He finally got his laughter under control. "Ah, that was good. No, my friends, I'm no brahmarishi, I'm sorry to say." He looked at them curiously. "What made you think that?"

Raj felt guilty again. "When you lay dead on my floor, I saw the blue energy healing your wound. And your age…"

Adam shook his head. "You saw the Quickening, Raj."

"The what?"

"Quickening. It's our life force, I suppose. It's what makes us Immortal," Adam explained.

"But isn't brahman life force as well?" Raj asked, confused.

Adam sighed. "Well, yes. But I don't think it's the same thing. Your brahmarishis could control brahman. We have no real control over the Quickening. When an Immortal loses his head, the Quickening escapes from the body and transfers into the nearest live Immortal … didn't you see the lightning last night?"

He seemed a bit disappointed when they said they had not. "Anyway, the Quickening contains the memories and experiences of the dead Immortal, and some believe taking a Quickening increases one's own power." He could see they didn't really grasp what he was talking about, but you really had to experience a Quickening to understand what it was like, and since neither of them were Immortal, they never would.

An awkward silence ensued, while they watched him timidly. Adam rolled his eyes. "I should have known…" He sat down facing them. "Look, I'm just a guy. If I could use brahman to do magic tricks, I'd have made you forget what you'd seen. No, not even that. I'd just have magicked that stupid knife from my back and you wouldn't have seen me again." He indicated his backpack still lying in a corner. "As you can imagine, I'm not in the habit of sharing my little secret with the world, and Raj, you have a way of getting me to confess way too easily."

Raj stirred at that. "So you're leaving?"

"No," Adam said after a second. "I would if I could, but things are a bit complicated right now."

"Why?"

"I think," said Adam. "That my secret is out anyway. There's a group of head hunters in the area, and they're waiting for me to leave here. I got away last night because I came across only two, and not the whole group." He smiled. "So you're stuck with me rather indefinitely, I'm afraid. I'm not leaving with them out there… and they are Immortal, so they have all the time in the world."

Narayan Shankar, who had been listening patiently all this time, raised an eyebrow at that. "Why would they wait so long for you? Would they not fight each other, if what you told us is true?"

"Good question," Adam said. "I don't know what bargain they've struck with each other. In the end, there can be only one. But they are waiting for Methos, because the one who takes Methos' head will probably win the Game. I've survived all these years by not being Methos, but somehow in the last few months the rumour has been going around that Methos had been found. I thought I could evade them here. Should have gone to Bora Bora instead."

"But if you're so powerful, why don't you win the Game?" Raj asked.

"Because I don't believe in the Game, Raj. And because you've seen how I handle being a killer." He shook his head. "Three thousand years ago I might have thought it would be a good idea. But that was then. Now, I want to be just a guy." He looked at them almost imploringly. "Can't you just pretend nothing happened? I'll teach, grow stronger and live to fight another day. Nothing will happen while I stay on Holy Ground, I promise."

"I don't think I can forget," Raj said. "But you are welcome to stay, Adam. For as long as you need to." He smiled when he saw Narayan Shankar nod as well. "There, it's unanimous."

Adam looked at them for a long moment. "Thank you," he said simply, then scowled. "But don't ask me for words of wisdom or any of that "sage of ages" stuff. I don't do that."

"Whatever you say, Adam," Raj laughed.

* * *

Raj could not tell why, but Adam seemed happier and more at peace in the days following the harrowing events. Perhaps because he had unburdened himself to Raj, he could deal better with his bitterness and sorrow; or perhaps he had just managed to hide it away again as he must have done for centuries. Raj did not know, but it eased his mind to hear Adam laughing, and he hoped that this extraordinary man would have the opportunity to heal at Gurukul.

One morning after sword practice, Raj came across Adam and his students, sitting on the steps of the pavilion. Adam was speaking earnestly, and the boys were listening intently. Raj stopped to hear what words of wisdom Adam was imparting, for despite Adam's claim to the contrary, Raj was convinced that Adam must have the wisdom of ages.

"An old man lived alone in Darjeeling. He wanted to spade his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, Rohit, who used to help him, was in Bombay Prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament."

Adam paused to open an imaginary letter and started reading from it. "Dear Rohit, I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me. Love, Papa."

Adam closed the imaginary letter. "A few days later he received a letter from his son. 'Dear Papa, for heaven's sake, Papa, don't dig up that garden, that's where I buried the BODIES. Love, Rohit."

Adam looked meaningfully at his audience. "At 4 A.M. the next morning, the local police showed up and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son."

He opened another imaginary letter. "Dear Papa, go ahead and plant the potatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances. Love Rohit."

Amidst laughter, Adam got up to come greet Raj, smiling widely. "Good morning, Mr. Aryan."

"No words of wisdom for your students?" Raj teased.

"Nope," Adam replied blithely and winked.

Raj could not help but laugh. Things were looking better.

The sun still rises every day And the brightly glowing dawn With all her doors unopened Lights my never ending way

The steep and rocky upward slope Of that long and winding road Redefines with every step My unblemished sense of hope

Rainy days and rainy nights Purifies the smoky air To show my wond'ring eyes a feast Of new and far beguiling sights

Every bird in every tree Adds song to a growing sound That gathers as I make my way Ever nearer to the sea

As I see the endless bay All of nature seems to rise To join me on my journey To that long-awaited joyful day

Then I recall that all my days Had left me stranded here and now But still my steadfast sense of hope Will lead me on to brighter ways

Chapter 5

So winter passed by, the snow melted and shoots of green appeared on all the trees. Spring erupted in glorious splendour as if the winter's sleep had rejuvenated and energized everything in nature. At Gurukul, the students prepared for the celebration of Holi – the first time it would be celebrated at Gurukul itself. Bonfires lit the night of the full moon, and as day dawned, the grounds were quickly filled with laughing and merriment as coloured water and powders were thrown on everyone.

Soon impromptu bands struck up music and the dancing started. People from the village joined in the fun, creating an instant fairground atmosphere on the normally calm grounds of Gurukul.

Raj was as involved in the merriment as anyone: dancing, singing, throwing gulal on anyone that came within his reach. He loved Holi; it signified the return of life and love to him, and he celebrated it with abandon. As always, Megha was dancing with him, drawing his attention wherever she went; slipping between dancers, peeking from behind trees, making faces at him to make him smile. He watched her until she showed him something he did not expect.

Adam, dancing.

Adam, rang-birangi. You could not tell what he looked like under all the colours. He was leading a wild dance, his normal group of sword-practicing followers mirroring his movements as if they had rehearsed it. And perhaps they had, Raj reflected. If you took away the sword and sped up the kata, it would be a dance.

Raj watched delightedly, amazed at how well Adam fitted in. He showed no sign of awkwardness at participating in such a non-western festival. Then Raj mentally kicked himself as he realized again that Adam had spent many centuries living in India, and that he probably knew more about where the festivals had originated than Raj did. It was hard to remember that Adam was in all ways extraordinary, because he actively strove to be as unassuming and inconspicuous as possible.

Just a guy.

Then, from one moment to the next, Raj saw Adam change from just a guy to something dangerous. A cornered predator, a drawn bowstring, the edge of a knife. One moment he was dancing, carefree. The next he had come to a wary halt, and was slowly scanning the crowd with his eyes; a tiger stalking its prey. Raj could not tell what had happened, but he knew that it was trouble.

He made his way to Adam's side, and when Adam ignored him, tentatively touched his arm. A split second later he found himself pinned against a wall, staring with fear at Adam's eyes; eyes that looked at him with no recognition at all. "Adam! It's me, Raj!" he gasped, struggling in vain to free himself.

At the sound of his voice, Adam released him. "Raj?" Adam gave him a distracted look, and resumed his scanning of the crowd. As he searched, he spoke softly. "Sorry, Raj. You'd better not touch me right now."

"Why?" Raj asked. "What happened?" As far as he could see, everything was the same. Except for one or two students who had seen Adam manhandle Raj and were now watching with large eyes, everyone else was still having a good time dancing and singing.

Adam, however, clearly felt something was wrong. "Someone's here, Raj." His gaze fixed suddenly on a man at the edge of the crowd. "There."

Raj looked but the only thing that distinguished the man from the other villagers was that he had the same animal-like wariness to his posture that Adam had. He also seemed to be looking for something or someone, but unlike Adam, had failed to find it yet.

"Who is he?" Raj asked.

"Head hunter," Adam said shortly. "He can sense me, just as I can sense him… I'm just a bit better at it than he is, or he would have found me already."

"Sense you?" Raj suddenly had the feeling that even if he lived a thousand years himself, he would never learn everything there is to know about his incredible guest.

"No time now, Raj," Adam said. "He's getting closer. Look, I don't want him to see me; it's better to be as anonymous as possible. Would you go and distract him while I get under cover?" Not giving Raj time to answer, Adam ducked behind some dancers and disappeared.

Raj, left in the lurch, had little choice but do what Adam asked, although he had no desire to speak to the man now that he knew this was Adam's enemy. Still, he would do what he could to help Adam, so he made his way through the crowd to where the man was still standing.

"Can I help you?" Raj asked.

The man gave a Raj a quick look. "I want to speak to that foreign teacher of yours," he replied. "Where is he?"

Surprised that the man knew who he was, Raj shrugged. "I don't know. He was here earlier, but he must have left." Pleased with that answer, since it really said nothing at all, Raj decided to do a little fishing for information. "Why? Who are you?"

The question earned him a contemptuous look. "None of your business," the man said, turned abruptly and left. Raj saw him walking out of the gate and go down the road, where four others joined him after a while. Together they left Gurukul's grounds completely, leaving Raj to wonder what they were planning to do now.

Suddenly some of the fun had gone out of Holi for Raj, and he thoughtfully went inside to see where Adam had gone.

* * *

"He's left," Raj said when he found Adam sitting in his office, of all places, looking quite out of place with his green, red and orange coloured skin and clothes.

"I know," Adam said, looking up from his hands, which he was studying with intentness. "Thanks."

"Why didn't you want him to see you?"

"Because very few people know what Methos looks like," Adam answered. "Two or three friends and now of course you. Those guys outside might think they have Methos cornered here, but they don't know that for sure. I'm just Adam Pierson, after all."

"So how will seeing you confirm that you're Methos?" Raj asked, confused.

"It won't," Adam grinned. "But I don't want Adam Pierson and Methos to be linked in their minds. The only way they can confirm that I am Methos, is to take my head." "Why not just tell them that you're not?"

"Oh come on," Adam exclaimed. "Why should they believe me? They want heads any way they can get them. They'll take mine on the off chance, too."

"Okay," Raj conceded. "You keep speaking of Methos as if he's someone else. But you're Methos, aren't you? I don't get it."

Adam gave Raj an amused look. "Trying to find out if you have a split personality problem here?" He smiled. "Let's see: On the one hand we have Methos. Methos is this guy who's been around longer than anyone on the planet. Three thousand years ago, he was known as Death, and spread fear and destruction all over the Middle East and central Asia along with his brothers, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Every Immortal playing the Game wants his head, because since he's the oldest, he must be the strongest. Many of course don't believe he exists, or if he does, he's some hermit somewhere, too afraid of modern technology to show his face."

He held up his hand, forestalling Raj's obvious intention to ask a question. "Then there's Adam Pierson, best known for writing obscure papers on extinct languages. In his thirties; only died for the first time a few years ago. Wouldn't harm a soul. Will probably not get very old as he has none of the ambition needed to survive the Game."

He held up both hands. "Do they seem like the same to you? Methos and Adam … Adam and Methos. Of course, I am Methos. But I'm more Adam Pierson now than I am Methos, if that makes any sense to you. And be grateful that I am, because Methos is not nearly as nice as Adam is."

Raj asked his question. "Death?"

Adam sighed. "I've told you three times now. I am Death, Raj." He shrugged. "Or I used to be. We terrorised the world for a thousand years. We raped and pillaged across three continents. Though I wasn't the leader, I was certainly the mind behind it. 'Death' was as good a name as any to describe me."

On Raj, a suspicion was dawning. "You're not sur, you're asur."

"A demon?" Adam asked with a terrible smile. "Perhaps."

Raj was at a loss. "Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me these things?"

"Because I want to see how far I can go before you can't stand it anymore," Adam replied earnestly. "I want to understand how you do it. How you managed to lose your love and then come and befriend her father, the man who caused her death. I want to know how you can listen to me confess the most terrible things and still know in your heart that I'm a good man." He looked at Raj. "Because you do, don't you?"

Raj took his time to answer. He had to evaluate all he had heard and correlate that with what he had seen of Adam. Finally, he identified the one thing that decided the issue: Adam's obvious pain and continuous effort to redeem himself. "Yes, I do," he said. "I think that no matter what you may have been three thousand years ago, you have been striving since then to undo the things you have done. I think you have saved more lives since, than what you took. I think people can change; in fact, I know it."

He stood up to look out of the window. "You want to know how I see the good in everyone? There's nothing to understand, Adam. I simply choose to see the good in everyone. It's not hard at all."

Adam shook his head. "You astound me, you really do. Do you then just ignore the bad in everyone? Doesn't it bother you that you're talking to a killer?"

"Yes, it does bother me. It bothers me that you had to live through times that forced you to become something that you now so regret. It bothers me that in three thousand years you have not found a way to forgive yourself. It bothers me that over every day of your existence hangs the threat of violence… but that is true of everyone." Raj turned around. "As for seeing the bad… I am not naive, Adam. I know there are bad people. I know people do bad things, sometimes out of ignorance, sometimes out of spite, sometimes because they really are bad. But I don't go looking for that in life. I look for love, life, respect and responsibility. Four pillars, if you wish, to build on."

He smiled wistfully. "Megha taught me the value of life and love. Because of that, I knew I had to forgive her father. By denying him forgiveness, I was denying him love. I changed his life, Adam, by giving him respect based on love, not fear. And when you love someone, you assume responsibility for that person, because with your actions you can make or break a person's heart."

Adam listened silently, giving each word serious thought. Sitting there, splattered with gulal, he looked very young. Raj thought there did not seem much difference between Adam and any of his students, at that moment.

Finally, Adam stirred. "Raj," he said softly. "For one so young, you are very wise. Thank you. You don't know how much you've helped me."

"As long as I have," Raj answered. "It's not noon yet. Come dance some more."

Living unencumbered By future and the past I stand on an island Around it flows time People come by Touching my heart Reaching with their hands To grasp my soul I embrace them gladly No longer alone As the music starts

And so we dance Weaving our futures Into intangible knots Tracing our lifelines In whirling patterns Connecting and joining Then suddenly breaking We sing our stories And finding our partners We wait for the morrow That will never come

People come by Touching our hearts Reaching with their hands To grasp our souls We embrace them gladly…

Chapter 6

"Mrs. Finkelstein travelled into the north of India with only her determination to keep her going," Adam told his class. "As far as she went she asked about the swami that had appeared from the mountains. When people tried to dissuade her from going there, she insisted that she just had to see the swami." He regarded them earnestly. "As you can imagine, the people were impressed by her courage and determination, and gave her directions until one day she reached the cave where the swami was instructing his followers."

"She was met at the mouth of the cave by an acolyte who at first tried to stop her from going in, but once again she insisted that she would only leave after seeing the swami. In the face of such devotion, the acolyte couldn't refuse her entrance. She entered the cave and came to the place where the swami was sitting."

"She regarded him for a moment, and then said, 'Alright, Melvyn. Enough of this swami nonsense. Come back home.'"

When the laughter had stopped, Adam said, "I stole that joke from Isaac Asimov." At the blank looks that greeted this statement, Adam groaned. "You need some lessons on the really important things in life, such as good authors." His students grinned at him, knowing by now that he was only joking.

"Okay," Adam said. "Back to work. We'll have to… Shankarji. What can I do for you?"

Narayan Shankar paused in the door of Adam's classroom. "Mr. Pierson, could I have a word with you?"

"Of course," Adam said, excusing himself from the class and stepping outside. "What can I do to help?"

"I just wanted to find out if you have seen Raj at all today," Shankar said. "I saw him at dawn, and he told me he would be going to town for an hour or so."

"That's a long time ago," Adam remarked. It was close to 4pm at the time. "What was he going to do?"

"I think he was meeting Miss Monica to plan the inter-college dance competition," Shankar replied. "It shouldn't have taken this long."

"You're right," Adam said. "But perhaps something came up. I'm sure he's fine."

"I hope so," Shankar said. "Well, I'll let you get back to your class."

"I'll tell him you were looking for him when I see him," Adam promised, and returned to his class.

* * *

By dinnertime, Raj had still not returned, and Adam joined Shankar in worrying. They had sent some of the students out to try to find out where he could be, but they returned without success. Raj had met Miss Monica, but had left there before noon. After that, no one had seen him. Finally, Shankar left to go to the town himself, leaving Adam fuming in frustration, trapped on Holy Ground by the presences of the head hunters that he could still sense, just outside the grounds.

He cursed himself for being such a coward, but he knew realistically that he could not hope to survive an attack by five of them at once. It was unfair, but they were breaking all the rules, so why would they bother about being fair? And as he was no superman, Adam did not delude himself with visions of taking them all on and winning. He had not survived five thousand years by being reckless.

But Raj's disappearance was causing him a lot of worry. He hated to admit it, but Raj had somehow managed to become a very good friend – something that Adam did not allow to happen very often, because he always outlived his friends and it just hurt too much. Raj, of course, had wormed himself into Adam's heart with a smile, a violin and those sympathetic eyes.

Adam missed him already. He wanted to talk to Raj about his feelings of cowardice, but he could not. It drove him to distraction. When Shankar returned late that night, Adam was waiting for him at the door.

"Any news?" Adam asked when Shankar entered, looking tired.

"We couldn't find him," Shankar replied, sinking wearily into his chair. "The police are also looking now but there are no leads. He's just disappeared." To Adam it seemed that Shankar was aging visibly as he sat there, as if the worry was eating away at him. "What do I do, Adam?"

"You keep believing that he is fine and will be back soon, Shankarji," Adam replied. "He would tell you to do that if he were here. I have never in my life met anyone who is as positive as Raj, and I think we can only benefit by following his example."

"I don't want to lose him," Shankar said. "I can't bear to lose a son, not after…"

"I don't want to lose him either, Shankarji," Adam said with compassion. "And if I can do anything to help, I will do it." As he spoke, he realized that he meant it, even if it meant leaving Holy Ground and facing those hunters to find Raj. "But for now, get some rest, my friend. The problems will be waiting for you in the morning; you don't have to worry about them during the night."

"But I will worry about Raj, not about problems," Shankar said. "And I pray he will be waiting for me tomorrow."

"So do I," Adam said softly. "So do I."

* * *

Adam was speaking on the phone with the police the next morning when a student came into the office to give him an envelope. Adam gestured at him to wait, listened for a few moments, said "Thank you," and hung up.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A man gave it to me at the gate," the student explained. "He said to give it to you."

"Alright," Adam said. "Thank you."

When the student had left, Adam opened the envelope and read the note within.

"Methos, if you want him alive, come to town tonight."

He sat and stared at nothing for a moment, feeling the rage build up inside him as he read the confirmation of what he had suspected, but had not admitted to himself because of fear. The hunters had taken Raj, to lure Methos off Holy Ground. He had to admit, it was a good strategy, because he certainly was coming after them now, but not in the way they might think. Methos had no scruples about breaking rules, especially since they had started it.

He smiled grimly to himself, envisioning the carnage when he got to them. They would wish that they had never tried this stunt. He would kill them all.

He stood up decisively, donning his coat and sword. He was not going to wait for their deadline either. He took the note and went to see Narayan Shankar.

The old man was sitting alone in his house, looking at the portraits above his fireplace. Megha… and Raj. Methos shook his head. Shankar seemed to believe he had lost Raj for good.

"I am going out," he said without preamble, causing Shankar to look around in surprise.

"But, you said…"

"It doesn't matter," Methos said brusquely. "They may have started this, but I will end it." He tossed the note onto the mantelpiece. "Don't worry, Shankarji. Nothing will happen to Raj."

As Shankar took the note, Methos turned and stalked out.

* * *

He pinpointed the first one close to the gate, using his perception of the Immortal's presence to home in on his position. Most Immortals could do this to a lesser extent, but none had practiced that talent for five thousand years. Methos was an expert at it: a radar unit for Immortals. Mostly he used it to avoid challenges, but this time he exercised it in full – to hunt. Using another well-honed trick, Methos suppressed his own presence so much that the Immortal was not even aware of him until he stepped out from between the trees.

The Immortal turned in astonishment, seeing very little before Methos flew into him, his sword a silver blur. The battle was over in seconds, because Methos did not bother with fancy footwork and well-known moves. He merely waded in, sword flying, and dispatched his opponent as quickly as possible. As the dead Immortal tumbled to the ground, Methos had to suppress the urge to kick the body, he was so angry. Angry at the Immortal for forcing him to fight – for forcing him to take a Quickening. But he had no choice. Bracing himself, he swung his sword and decapitated the corpse.

Blue tendrils of energy started crawling from the headless body, radiating out, seeking something to ground in. Finding the roots of trees, the energy travelled up the roots and into the trunks, exploding the trees like lightning strikes would – heating the sap in the wood into steam, and splitting each tree into splinters before escaping and combining into larger bolts. The bolts all coalesced into an electrical storm that struck into Methos, where he stood waiting with his sword.

As the bolts entered his body, Methos screamed, not from the pain of the electricity burning into him, but from the feeling of another consciousness trying to take over his mind. Every Quickening was a battle of wills, as the essence of the dead Immortal still fought to destroy his opponent. It took a few minutes before Methos found himself in the confusion of memories and feelings not his own. He hated taking Quickenings for this reason, because every new one made it harder for him to come back.

But when he was forced to fight for his life, or for the life of a friend, Methos could endure anything.

When he had recovered, he looked through the dead man's pockets and found much to his delight, a semi-automatic pistol concealed inside the coat. Methos grinned. That would stack the odds in his favour, for sure. He took the gun and some rounds of ammunition from the corpse, and then focused his perception outwards to find the next Immortal.

Chapter 7

Two Quickenings later, Methos knew he had taken out the Immortals who were watching Gurukul, and he concentrated on finding the others. His radar trick could give him general direction and distance, but he had to walk around for quite a while before he felt sure where to go. Even then, it surprised him to find that at least five more Immortals were congregated somewhere in the nearby town. All added up, that made ten Immortals in the original hunting party, all coming after him. He wondered again, what they thought ten of them could possibly do with one of him. But that wasn't his concern.

He entered the town warily, his presence suppressed as much as he could keep it, although with the three recent Quickenings still bouncing around in him, he felt a bit unsteady and uncertain of what the others might be able to sense. If he was lucky, the others might think some of their comrades were approaching. Drawing near to what looked like an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the town, he decided that to sneak in quietly would be hard, but that he had the element of surprise on his side if he came in loud.

Discarding all effort to suppress his presence, he walked into the building. The effect that his 5000-year old presence had on the younger Immortals was gratifying, he thought, finding them staggering about in a daze, as if someone was bombarding them with sound. That was the reason why he constantly suppressed it. It would be hell for his friends and his enemies would be able to sense him miles away. But it came in very useful now, as he walked in amongst them, almost casually picking each off with the gun. Five bullets, five Immortals down.

He took out his sword and was about to swing at the first corpse when he heard a sound. He spun around to see Raj, tied up and sprawling in a corner. He was watching Methos with wide eyes, apparently shocked at the ease at which Methos had just "killed" the five Immortals.

Methos considered for a moment, and then decided that he could wait a while before starting on the Quickenings. They were not pleasant for him in any case. So he walked over and cut Raj's bonds. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Raj struggled to his feet. "I'm fine." He reached out to grip Methos' shoulder. "But you… Adam, how can you…?"

"Adam is not in right now," Methos said sardonically. "You'll have to leave a message." Shrugging off Raj's hand, Methos handed him the gun. "Take this. If any of them starts to move, shoot him. And stay clear of me, no matter what happens."

Raj started to protest, but Methos brusquely interrupted him. "If you want to get out of here alive, and if you want me to survive, you will do what I say. There is no other way." Without waiting for an answer, he walked back to the body of one of the Immortals, swung his sword and watched with some detachment as the head rolled away. Behind him he heard Raj gasp in shock, and he felt grimly amused at the thought of how Raj will hate him after all this is done.

Then the Quickening started, his fourth for the day, and he wiped all other thoughts from his mind.

* * *

It is one thing to be told someone is a killer; it is quite another to witness it, Raj thought, desperately trying to remember that he liked Adam. That he considered him a friend. That he believed Adam was a good man. But he sensed somehow that this man who killed so callously was not Adam. This was Methos; a man who had survived for thousands of years under circumstances that had decimated the majority of his race.

Standing there, next to the headless body of his victim, Methos did not look triumphant at all. He looked as if he was bracing himself for something awful; his shoulders square, his head held high, his sword gripped with both hands as if it could somehow steady him. Raj saw him smile grimly at some thought, and then all hell broke loose.

It began deceptively slowly: small tendrils of electricity leaked from the body into the floor, reappearing to creep in ever-widening circles away from the corpse. Then some of the tendrils reached the walls. They travelled up, blowing out windows as they went, and combined to form larger lightning-like bolts that struck back into the building. At the same time a howling sound started, as if a strong wind was screaming through the broken windows. Methos, at the centre of the storm, stood with his sword lifted to the sky as bolt after bolt tore into him.

Raj was so fascinated and overwhelmed by this spectacle that he did not even notice one of the other Immortals stir and get up. He only noticed when the Immortal ran at Methos from behind, brandishing a sword. Raj tried to scream a warning but there was so much noise that he could not even hear himself.

Without thinking, Raj Aryan, the pacifist, raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The Immortal staggered in his run but did not fall. Instead, he turned and started to rush towards Raj, who kept on firing until the man fell and stayed down. His sword slid along the ground to come to a halt at Raj's feet.

Raj stared down in horror at the man he had shot. It did not matter that he would revive again; all that mattered was that Raj had killed someone. He had not wanted to, but there had been no other option. Suddenly he understood Methos, but he hated himself for doing so.

Someone touched his arm, and he jumped back with the gun at the ready, only to find Methos standing in front of him, watching him with compassion.

"Oh Raj, I'm so sorry," Methos said softly. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"You didn't?" Raj asked. "Then why did you give me the gun?"

Methos shook his head. "I didn't think, Raj. I was being selfish, as usual. I wanted you to protect me; I didn't care what that would mean to you. I am sorry."

"It doesn't matter," Raj said. "Go, do what you must." He gestured to the bodies. "Before they all wake up."

"I can't," Methos said, causing Raj to stare at him in surprise. "It's too much; I can't take another Quickening, not today."

"Why not?" Raj took a closer look at Methos, noticing for the first time that he was shaking with exhaustion and shock. His clothes were singed by the passage of the Quickening, and he looked as if a puff of wind would blow him over. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Methos replied. "But the physical pain is the least of it. I took four Quickenings today, Raj. Those are the memories and experiences of four people, all more than 200 years old. I need time for them to settle, or I will go mad."

Raj felt appalled, but could not help asking sarcastically, "How did you plan to cope with them all? Didn't you know you'd have a problem?"

"I didn't plan that far ahead," Methos said ruefully. "All I wanted to do was find you. I didn't care about the rest."

Suddenly Raj's anger evaporated. It shook him to realize that this ancient man had been willing to die to rescue him. He looked with new comprehension at Methos, and at the bodies around them.

"Then what will you do now?" he asked.

In answer, Methos reached out and took the gun from Raj. "I'm going to make sure none of them wake up soon. I am going to get you home… and then I am going to disappear." Ignoring Raj's exclamation, he walked round the factory floor and systematically riddled each body with bullets. Raj looked away, unable to watch.

When he was done, Methos came back to Raj. "Come on, let's go. I'm sure the police will show up eventually, and I would prefer not to be here when they do."

* * *

"You're right, you know," Raj said as they walked back to Gurukul.

"About what?" Methos asked.

"Adam is much nicer than Methos," Raj replied, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

"True," Methos said. "But he's useless when it comes to fighting. He'd much rather just disappear, taking the way of least resistance."

"I thought Methos would be the ruthless one who would rather disappear than endanger himself," Raj mused.

Methos was silent for a while. "I suppose Methos and Adam have one thing in common then. When they feel responsible for someone, they will not shirk that responsibility."

"So who rescued me?" Raj wondered. "Adam or Methos?"

"You're being far too clever," Methos snorted. "Take your pick, I don't know."

"I think they're one and the same," Raj said. "You rescued me, not some five thousand year old legend or some grad student. What I want to know is who are you? The man who controls these personalities…"

"If I knew, I'd tell you," Methos said. "I've told you everything else, after all. I'm just me, in the end. Just a guy, trying to survive, trying to stay sane."

"As we all are," Raj said. "You're not that different from the rest of the world, Adam."

"Perhaps not," Methos said. "But no matter who I am now, I do still have five thousand years of killing on my conscience. The rest of the world doesn't. And I still have a responsibility that I need to fulfil."

"What is that?"

"I must go away," Methos said. "Those head hunters now know without a doubt that I am the one they were hunting. They will never let up. It's time for me to disappear again. To get a new identity, a new look, new friends…"

"Friends, my friend, seem to be your greatest weakness," Raj said after a moment. "You'd have been safely gone if it wasn't for me. Perhaps you should avoid having friends."

Methos frowned. "You are telling me this? I don't understand, Raj. You should be the champion of friendship. What has changed?"

"Nothing has changed. I'm just trying to think of ways to keep my friend alive," Raj said. "It occurs to me that it's fine to look at the positive side of life when everything is going well, but it's not practical to do that when things are going wrong."

"No, no, no," Methos groaned. "You sound like me. I refuse to let you do this, Raj. You must continue to be the optimist, to see the best in everything. To look for life, love, respect and responsibility in everything you do. Be the shining sun, Raj. I walk in the shadows; I need you to guide my way."

"But still you're leaving?"

"I am." Methos confirmed.

"Then how can I possibly guide your way?" Raj asked.

"If I stay," Methos said savagely. "This will keep happening, until one day I won't be able to save you, or Shankarji, or one of the students. Do you think I could bear that? Do you think I could bear to stay, knowing that it is only a matter of time? When with every minute that passes it becomes more likely that I will cause your death?" He stopped walking. "No, I can't stay. But the sun shines so brightly, Raj, that we can see it and feel its warmth over millions of miles. I don't have to be here to know you're my friend."

He suddenly noticed that they were standing right at the gate of Gurukul. "Look Raj," he said, pointing to where Narayan Shankar along with several of the students was approaching. "For them, let's keep the sun shining here. Let no shadow hang over this place, Raj, and I will be content."

Raj could only nod, overcome with emotion, before they were surrounded and borne on a tide of happy people into Gurukul.

If I knew what to write, I would write it A syllable for every day If I knew what to say, I would say it Before I leave and go my way

If I could find the time I would come back And see how everything goes If I was allowed to backtrack I would halt time in the way it flows

If people could forever keep in touch I would not have to miss you If life did not speed so much I would hang around to see you

Epilogue

Waiting with Methos at the train station, Raj found himself at a loss for words. He would miss Methos, or Adam, or whoever he was, but understood now that he could not stay without endangering everyone he cared for. The train arrived in a cloud of steam and noise, and people began to board.

Methos hitched his backpack onto his shoulder. "Any words of wisdom for me to take away?" he asked lightly.

Raj smiled. "That was my question," he said. "But I'll tell you what Megha said. She told me to change my world for the better, because even small things can make large changes. It has a ripple effect, you see. If I can make the people around me happy, and they make the people around them happy, then eventually it will spread and everyone will be happy." He spread his arms. "It's so easy to do; you can't lose by doing it, and that's what makes the sun shine in my world."

Methos grinned. "You're much better at this than I am so I'm not even going to try. Thank you, Raj, for being there when I needed a sympathetic ear. I'll remember your words all my life."

All his life.

Methos clasped Raj in a sudden bear hug, and then released him. "Got to go!" He jumped onto the train, as it started moving.

"You'll write, won't you?" Raj called after him.

"Of course!" Methos yelled.

"Don't lose your head!"

"Do my best!" Methos replied. "Bidaa kaa pranaama!" The train picked up speed, and Methos disappeared from view.

"Farewell to you too, my friend," Raj said softly, turning to leave.

The sun set like molten fire over the horizon, bathing everything in a golden light that quickly darkened to dusk. But even in the darkness, the stars were shining.

The End © Leoni Venter 2004

Disclaimer: Methos and Immortal lore belong to Rysher:Panzer/Davis. Raj, Shankar and Gurukul belong to Yash Raj Films. No copyright infringement is intended. The story, poems and speculations are copyright Leoni Venter 2004. Written entirely for fun!

Thanks go to my friend, Haarsha Balraj, for suggestions and support! And thanks go to Shah Rukh Khan, for being the inspiration for this story!