He was being cut down as he revived. The blue sparkle of healing bathing his broken body. The strong sense of another Immortal filled his mind, temporarily blocking the pain from his dislocated shoulder.

"Hold on" a voice said "this is going to hurt"

'It couldn't hurt more than what he'd just been through' In one fluid movement his arm was lifted and the joint wrenched back into place. Unable to scream, his throat too raw, he bit through his lower lip. The dripping blood forming a fresh, wet channel across his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to get control, trying to stop the fevered shaking in his body.

Methos opened his eyes. The other Immortal was physically ancient. A man who looked 60 summers, maybe more. 'How could someone who became Immortal at that age survive in the Game? was that why he was here?'

The other anticipated his question.

"My name is Marsyas. Yes, I was very old when I became an Immortal. I was a scholar all my life." He explained "I don't even know how to hold a sword let alone take someone's head. I'd never have survived if Kelah hadn't let me stay here on Holy Ground."

"Why did you help me?" Methos coughed spasmodically until the old man handed him a water skin. He was suspicious of everything now. Why would anyone, especially another Immortal, want to help him?

"Well I'm partly to blame for you being here in the first place" Marsyas continued "I saw the Quickening and convinced the priestess you'd been touched by the gods"

"But why" Methos was confused "Why let them submit me to this torture. Damn you that woman nearly unmanned me. Why didn't you warn me?"

"Ah.." He shrugged "I had to find some way of paying them back for their sanctuary. I've been safe here ten years. The harvest failed last year - because the ceremony wasn't performed properly. With the war and all the men being away they feared it would happen again. They needed the hope and comfort a successful rite could provide. I had to help them find a man. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But there was an added bonus. Like Attis you have revived and that will make the omens even better for them." Marsyas looked smug at this and Methos began to suspect he'd arranged all this to look better in the eyes of the villagers.

The rapidly healing Immortal had grown increasingly angry. He caught the old man by the throat and thrust him against the tree trunk. "If this wasn't Holy Ground I'd kill you right now. How could you betray one of your own kind to mortals?" He wanted revenge now; for the humiliation of being captured by women, for the torture and most of all for being set up.

"I'm sorry" he spluttered "I was thinking only of them. I didn't realise the ceremony would be different if there was only one man here. Usually the death is only a symbol. The man playing Attis has never been killed before. They usually pair off and go into the fields. Kelah didn't warn me - if she had I'd have found some way of releasing you. Please believe me it's never been like this before." Marsyas gabbled on trying not to get caught out in a lie.

"So" Methos growled "What do you expect me to do now? Will they let me leave if they find out I'm not dead or are there even worse tortures for someone who survives?"

"I don't know. You'd better go quickly. Come we'll get your clothes and I'll show you the way out of the area." Marsyas just wanted to get rid of him now. He was terrified that the anger boiling up in the other man would well over into violence.

Methos released the man with a sharp push and forced him back to the village. He was still naked, blood soaked but all he wanted to do was get his clothes and sword,and be away. There would be time to clean up later. Anger burned him. All this just to appease some religious fanatics, and women at that. Thousands of years of experience had convinced him that the gods were too capricious to concern themselves with the day to day lives of mortals.

Mist swirled through the street as they reached the guest house. Both men failed to see the priestess' watching from a doorway. The three women sank to their knees in prayers of thanks. Cybele had forgiven Attis and revived him. It was the miracle they had asked for. The guarantee of a good harvest. They hugged each other excitedly.

He dressed rapidly, stopping to wipe away the blood only where it was still sticky. Then, sword in hand he strode from the house.

"Come on old man" he grabbed the other Immortal roughly "Show me the way out of here."

They travelled out of the village and along a well used path. Eventually the reached the clearing where he'd fought days before. This time Methos could see the village boundary marked by charms and fetishes hung from the branches.

"You just have to follow the path to the main highway...along there" Marsyas pointed into the darkness.

"I'm not sure" Methos spoke quietly his eyes hard, calculating. "It doesn't look familiar"

"I'll come with you, point out the way." Marsyas was anxious to get the other Immortal away and this caused him to be careless "You've been lucky. At least you didn't die..." He stopped. It was obvious he'd been about to say 'like the others'.

Methos stopped, his sword instantly at Marsyas's throat. "So you did know" He hissed. "You set me up, you knew an Immortal would give them the exact result they needed"

Marsyas was frightened for his life now "The Goddess told me to do it. Please spare me" he backed away anxiously.

In fact he was too anxious and without thinking stepped beyond the marked boundary of the village and beyond Holy Ground.

This was what Methos had been waiting for, a chance for revenge. He caught the old man and forced him to his knees. His sword traced a shining arc in the still air and it was over. The Quickening lit up the glade, flashing lightning out into the mist.