The night was silent. Eerily so. No wind shook the trees, no night-birds cried out as they hunted, no ground predators rustled the undergrowth. The fire had gone out, so even its comforting crackling had gone.
Daniel's heavy breathing was just audible from where he slept in the tent. Deep in Kel No'Reem, Teal'c's breathing was shallow. You could only hear it if you were trying, despite the absense of other noise.
Jack stared up at the planet's twin moons. They were smaller than Earth's moon, but otherwise looked very similar. Pock-marked surfaces that told of a history of meteors, huge dark so-called seas marking out shapes. The smaller moon had the look of a clown's face, the other the silhouette of a horse's head.
Even the keenest guard could not have prevented what happened. Low-lying mist in the middle of their camp swirled together into the shape of a man, standing beside Sam as she gazed sleeplessly into the cold ashes of the now-extinct fire. She did not see the shape, did not see it raise its shadowy arm and bring it down on the back of her neck. She was barely able to cry out before blackness engulfed her, and she felt herself falling.
Falling. There was no end to it. A deep pit opened within her mind, and she could not hold herself back from it. She plummeted downwards, screaming silently in the hope that someone somewhere would feel her distress and put an end to it, one way or another.
**
Hearing Sam's cry, Jack turned his head sharply to where she lay. The shadowy figure beside her seemed to be dressed in a black cloak, with a cowl covering its face. As Jack stared at it in shock it pushed the cowl back, revealing swirling black mist where a head should have been. A voice reverberated through the darkness, seeming to bore a hole through Jack's skull as the figure spoke words intended for him and him alone.
Listen. If you hear her, you can help her. She cries out as she falls, and her cries are for you. Only you can save her. If she reaches the bottom, she is lost. There are two ways to save her. One will save her mind, the other will save her body.
"What's that supposed to mean? Who the hell are you and what did you do to her?"
They want her to join them. Tradition demands that they take no-one who does not have a champion. If there is no champion, there can be no challenge, and someone taken without challenge is not worth having. If the champion proves that they are more worthy, the champion keeps the chosen one. Otherwise, the chosen becomes one of them. You are this one's champion.
"What did you do to her?"
I did what tradition demands of me. I can do nothing else. My role in this business is finished. Listen for her.
The mists parted, and the figure vanished. Shaking himself out of the shocked half-trance the sight of the figure had put him into, he knelt beside Sam, begging her to wake up.
He could never afterwards say what possessed him to look up at the moons.
The horse's head was no longer just a head. An entire horse was visible, galloping across the face of the moon. A cloud that had started to cross in front of the moon was motionless. Jack glanced at his watch. It had stopped. He had been caught out of time.
The horse on the moon was getting bigger. It seemed to be getting closer, either because Jack was drawn towards it or because it was coming towards Jack. He felt hooves on his shoulders as the horse knocked him down to the ground, or the place where the ground had been.
**
He stood. He was in an arena. Silver sand convered the ground, the pale light of the twin moons shining down on him. The horse's head was back where it had been.
A bolt of silent lightning lit up the arena further, showing a a brilliant white horse standing not twenty yards away from him. On the back of the horse sat the shadowy figure of Sam, her face turned towards Jack, her eyes unseeing.
It is time. The champion is ready. The chosen one nears the bottom. She slows. There will be time for the challenge before the fall is ended. Champion, choose your weapon. Take the sword or take the cloak. The sword lets you fight for her body, and you may pray that her mind is saved by the body. The cloak lets you fight for her mind, and you may pray that her body is saved by the mind.
Choose now.
A sword hung in the air before Jack, its blade glinting in the pale light. A single word was written where blade meets hilt.
Excalibur.
Beside the sword hung a long black cloak with a silver clasp at the front, fashioned in the shape of an old Celtic symbol Jack had once noticed on one of Daniel's artefacts. A single word was worked into the silver.
Merlin.
**
Beneath her, Sam felt the Grey Mare stir. The champion was choosing his weapon. Sam was trapped within her own mind, she felt herself suspended above the point from which there was no return. Her awareness of the Mare was her only link to what was going on around her, and the Mare's awareness told her what was happening. Through the Grey Mare she knew the history of the challenge, the reasons for the challenge, and how it could be won.
**
The Grey Mare felt the thoughts of its rider. She felt pity for this one; its champion was worthy, whether the challenge proved him to be so or not. The rider loved the champion, but the love was forbidden. Like an ancient love, one remembered in legend throughout the universe. That love had triumphed, but at great cost. The relationships between the players in this challenge were different from the other, but the possible consequences were similar.
**
Excalibur. He knew that name. Had heard Danny ranting about people using it out of context. Arthur's sword, whose scabbard made the bearer invulnerable. The sword given to Arthur by the Lady of the Lake, not the one he had pulled out of the stone, as so many people are wrongly told.
Merlin. The wizard who had stood at Arthur's side through thick and thin, who had guided him although the most important guidance he had offered had gone unheeded. Merlin had told him not to wed Guinevere, that it would lead to the destruction of the Kingdom of Logres, that Arthur's life had been spent building up. But Arthur was ruled by his lust, and had ignored Merlin's advice and taken her as his wife, only to be betrayed by her because of her love for his best friend.
Jack shook his head, violently. Those had not been his own thoughts. He recognised the name Excalibur, but not in so much detail. And he knew nothing of the legends of Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot.
In front of him, the Grey Mare neighed. Jack let his eyes meet that of the mighty horse.
The one who had worn the cloak had been right. The one who had carried the sword had been wrong, had brought about his own destruction.
Again, a thought that wasn't his own. Jack could feel the Mare trying to help him. He didn't know why, but he was grateful. He reached out, and swirled the cloak about his shoulders, fastening the clasp upon his chest.
**
The Mare helps him. She must consider him worthy. Interesting, she loses the most from the loss of this one. She has been too long without a rider, she would not give this one up without good cause. The Mare has never helped a champion before, she values a wise rider too greatly, and this rider is as good as could be asked for. Perhaps the Mare grows sentimental after all these millenia. Or perhaps she sees that these two have a greater purpose than to provide her with a companion. This challenge will prove to be an interesting one.
**
Jack found himself in a dark room. He could see nothing, hear nothing. He could only feel cold marble beneath his hands, as he sat cross-legged on the floor.
Then he heard the voices start.
They all seemed to be the same voice. Sam's voice. The intonation the same, the accent, everything was identical about them.
Yet each was in every conceivable way different from all the others.
Jack stood. The cloak swirled around his body, creating a slight breeze. Jack felt obscurely comforted by the presence of the cloak, feeling an ancient wisdom envelop him as he mentally withdrew behind the cloak's folds, to work out what was expected of him. The cloak reminded him of words spoken not long ago.
If you hear her, you can help her.
He knew what he had to do. One of these voices was really Sam, the others were not. They were there to fool him, to prevent him from hearing what Sam was saying to him.
He listened to the voices.
"Jack! Help me! Do whatever you can! Just get me out of here! Please, Jack! Jack! Help!"
"Nonononononono! God, Jack! Get me out of here!"
"Jack! It's me! Listen to my voice! Hold on to it!"
Each voice seemed to be trying to out-shout the others. So Jack listened for one that wasn't. Eventually, he found it amidst the cacophony of other voices.
"Sir, if you can hear me, find a way out of there and go. They won't harm me, but this is dangerous for you. Please Jack, I don't want anything to happen to you."
As Jack heard it, he knew it was her voice that he was hearing, not an imitation. It was the only voice that had called him Sir, the only voice that hadn't begged him to save her. The only voice that thought of Jack before it thought of Sam, as Sam would do. As it became firmly fixed in Jack's mind that this was her voice, he felt his surroundings change.
**
He was back in the arena, standing in the same position as he had been before, as if he had never left.
The Grey Mare bowed its head to him. Sam dismounted and walked over to him. Jack kept his eyes on the Mare, uncertain what it expected him to do.
She expects nothing of you. You have challenged successfully, the first for many a generation. The Mare gives up her Rider to your protection, on the condition that when the Mare needs a Rider, at the time of the Great Battle that is approaching, the two of you will ride upon her back, defeating Mordred's forces and allowing her to rest at last in the orchard that has been promised to her since the dawn of time. Your agreement is detected, that is good.
Jack's eyes met Sam's, and both of them smiled.
The Mare has a fondness for you. She has asked a boon, which will be granted. As the Champion won the Rider by hearing her, so will he will keep her by the same means. The two of you are linked, that you may hear each other always. Boons of this type are rarely granted, so be glad of it. Keep in your minds the tales of Arthur and of Merlin, they will be of help to you in your preparations for the Battle.
**
Jack stared up at the moon. He would have sworn that the face of the horse had changed somehow. It seemed happier, somehow. He turned his head to look at where Sam lay next to the ashes of the dead fire.
He walked over to her, and knelt beside her. She raised her eyes to look into his.
~So. You can hear me, can you?~
~Yes. I can.~
~So you know what I want you to do?~
~Yes. I do.~
Smiling, he leaned his face towards her, and kissed her.
**Fin**
Story Notes: AUTHOR: Fawe (email fawe@mastershouse.freeserve.co.uk)
SEASON/SEQUEL: None
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack archive please, anyone else if they tell me where they put it.
DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are the property of MGM, Showtime and Gekko. I think. Not certain on that. Anyways, they ain't mine. Poor me. If they were mine, I might actually have some money.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know The Grey Mare has nothing to do with Arthurian legend, but I really don't give. I've just spent a day memorising part of the Aeneid and I really don't care. About anything. At all. So if you're going to be pedantic, buzz off. And pedantic people really shouldn't watch Stargate anyway. If you don't know about Arthurian legend, it doesn't really matter.
Why is it that now, when I'm on study leave and should be revising, is the first time since forever that I've been writing much fic?
SEASON/SEQUEL: None
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack archive please, anyone else if they tell me where they put it.
DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are the property of MGM, Showtime and Gekko. I think. Not certain on that. Anyways, they ain't mine. Poor me. If they were mine, I might actually have some money.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know The Grey Mare has nothing to do with Arthurian legend, but I really don't give. I've just spent a day memorising part of the Aeneid and I really don't care. About anything. At all. So if you're going to be pedantic, buzz off. And pedantic people really shouldn't watch Stargate anyway. If you don't know about Arthurian legend, it doesn't really matter.
Why is it that now, when I'm on study leave and should be revising, is the first time since forever that I've been writing much fic?
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]