Author's Notes & Disclaimer
After much thought and indecision, I have come up with a name for my Tomorrow People fan fiction universe. When I posted my first fan fic, "Only Child" to the list, I mentioned at that time that I would be creating a universe which combined the old series with the new series. Because there is a universe in creation under the same premise (called A More Perfect Union) I realized that it would be necessary to name my universe. Unfortunately, with only one story (and a very short one at that) I was at a loss for a name of the universe. However, "Ancient History" is my second posting in this universe, and I felt it was a good time to name the universe and explain it, so please bear with me before rushing into the reading of "Ancient History."
My universe will not only be the combination of both the old and new series, but it will also crossover with the Highlander universe as well. The reasons for this are simple: I like Highlander, I like the Tomorrow People, and it's my universe :-) (This is also another good reason to name my universe and not confuse it with Tomorrow's Future)And yes, in this universe, Richie lives for all you Richie fans out there (and I know who you are!)
Unfortunately, due to the nature of this universe it will at times become necessary to write a story which does not feature, or only has a cameo appearance by the Tomorrow People whom we know and love, in order to establish the universe, the timeline, and characterization. "Ancient History" is one of these stories. The connection that "Ancient History" has with the Tomorrow People should become apparent in the reading of the story. However, I do wish to warn everyone that not a single Tomorrow Person appears in this story.
A last comment I would like to make about the Edge of Forever is that while it is a serial universe, not all of the stories will be written in order. Therefore, I will be trying my darndest to put dates and geographic notes on all of the stories. I will also be setting up a web page in the future with more details.
And for those who are curious-- "Case Closed" is not part of this universe. It's a little bit of insane babbling that stands all on its own!
Now, onto the Disclaimer and other such business: The concepts and characters presented in this story do not belong to me. The alien race of the khultan belongs to Thames Television, Roger Price, et al. The characters of Methos, Richie, and MacLeod are the property of Rysher Entertainment, Panzer/Davis, et al. I am using all this here without permission, and strictly for fun and not for profit.
Enjoy! Michele (chelesedai@hotmail.com)
Egypt, 2289 B.C.
They were gathering the slaves again. They called them `kopka' or the `cursed ones' as they cracked the whips that cackled with blue energy and paralyzed their prey in mid-flight. Those falling to their knees barely had a moment to register their pain before their minds blanked out in shock and they fell silent, some dead, some unconscious. The slave-masters were not particular, the old, the weak, and children were prime targets as well as the strong and able-bodied. As long as the `kopka' were gathered in and carried off to the great pyramids to appease the jackal-headed gods.
Kopka. The word had a bitter sound to it. Rough and guttural like the language of those the Egyptians called `khultan.' Strange that the word seemed to have two meanings: `jackal-gods' and `dog-headed ones.' His past six months in the desert lands had convinced him of a third name-- `the unseen ones.' Only the pharaohs, the priests, and their servants ever saw the `khultan.' From the fear the word cast in the hearts of the kopka and the free citizens alike, he was rather glad to never have seen one. He wasn't certain he believed in creatures with the bodies of men and the heads of jackals, maybe it was just some fancy of this religion that held an obsession with death.
Then again, a thousand years ago you didn't believe that anyone could live forever, he reminded himself as he turned from the mayhem in the streets.
The child and her mother greeted his return to the hut with shadowed eyes. These were dangerous times; one never knew if you were dealing with friend or foe. Brothers had turned on one another, and parents had been known to turn their kopka children over to the slave masters to preserve their own freedom. The rumors of rebellion made flight and escape even more dangerous. The khultan were panicked, even with all their great magics rumor held that they feared a collective rebellion---particularly if all the kopka rose up together.
Well, he didn't plan on being around long enough to see if the khultan really were the results of a demonic union with jackals, or just some costumed pharaohs who took their religion a little too seriously. The valley was no longer safe; not even for a man who could live forever.
"I've made arrangements to get us out of here tonight. By boat." He produced a loaf of bread from the folds of his robe. "You better eat."
His command of the language was improving, but was not without flaws. However, he saw the understanding in the young mother's eyes as she nodded and graciously accepted the offering. "Why do you do this? Why do you help kopka?"
That word again. He sat down on the floor across from her. She was beautiful. Huge dark eyes and a mane of hair so black it was almost blue. When he found her and the child cowering in his hut, he had at first been annoyed---he didn't need any attention from the slave masters. But something about those eyes, about her defiant manner intrigued him. In the end, he decided he would help her find a way to escape from the khultan leaders.
"What are the kopka?"
"We are," she broke off the bread, averting her eyes. The child snatched it hungrily, remaining fearfully behind his mother. "Vile and cursed. I am kopka, he is kopka."
The same answer as always. He was determined to not give up. Not yet. This time he would have an answer before he set her sail on a barge and out of his life forever. He leaned forward, his piercing hazel-gold eyes demanding her attention. "But why are you called kopka?"
She did not look up. Her voice was soft. "The khultan say we can do things, that we have magic that mocks the gods. The punishment for mocking the gods is to be a slave forever. The lucky ones die. That is what happens to those who go to the great pyramids."
It was an answer. It still didn't tell him what he needed to know. Or maybe it did. It told him that these people were religious fanatics and that he needed to get as far away from the land called Egypt as possible. It was no wonder he had not run into any of his own kind here; they probably realized long ago that this was not a safe land to be in.
He let her eat and watched over while she slept. It would be a long night.
Seattle, 1998
"Methos, are you trying to tell us that those dog-headed things that the Egyptians painted on the pyramids were real?" The voice of disbelief brought the man from his musings.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything, Richie. I'm just telling you what I remember." Methos took a large swallow from his long neck, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I was trying to avoid Kronos at the time too, so I didn't hang around long enough to take notes."
"Why were you running from Kronos? Hadn't you left the Horsemen?"
The man named Methos sighed heavily. He could feel two sets of eyes on him and he didn't care for the feeling. He spent nearly 5,000 years trying not to remember that he'd been the man behind the myth--he had been one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse--but lately it seemed as though he couldn't escape his dark legacy. "Let's just say that I hadn't left with Kronos's blessing."
"What happened to the slave girl?" the low voice came from the dark haired man leaning on the counter in the kitchen.
Leave it to MacLeod to worry about the slave girl, Methos thought drolly. "I took her to Greece. I lost track of her after that. I wasn't too interested in putting down roots at the time. And besides, she saw me die. She wasn't over eager to keep company with a man who could come back from the dead." Glancing around the room, he saw the questions on his companion's faces and he brushed them off. "Why the sudden interest in Egypt anyway, Richie?"
The young blonde shrugged. "I've always wanted to see the pyramids. I was just wondering what it was like back then. Do you think that the dog-headed things were real? I mean, I've heard theories that aliens built the pyramids and ---"
"Men built the pyramids, kid. You'd be amazed at the amount of motivation a whip can provide."
"So, what were the `khultan' and how did those whips create lightening?"
When Methos didn't answer immediately, MacLeod laughed. "Sounds like he's got you there, Methos. What were the `khultan'? What were the `kopka'?"
Methos sat up and polished off the remainder of the beer. "I don't know _what_ they were. And why does it matter? It's ancient history and this isn't Unsolved Mysteries or the X-files." He glared at Richie. "And I never said the whips created lightening. You've had too much to drink, kid."
"All I'm saying is that it's really stupid of us to think that we're the only intelligent life in the universe. I mean, we're Immortal, right? Who's to say that there isn't some other different race right here on earth? Right as we speak?" Richie leaned against the island, a smug smile on his eternally youthful features.
Methos groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a metaphysical debate with MacLeod's former student. "Did I say that you had too much drink? I meant that you haven't had enough. MacLeod, get him another beer. And bring me another one while you're at it."
Ancient history. Aliens species on earth. What would that kid think of next?
Methos shook his head. "Make that two beers. If Richie decides to get philosophical, I'm going to need it."
Finis