Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire: SG1-1 (10 page)

Albeit savage, the savages weren't stupid. They spread out,
offering less of a cohesive target, and the front men carried shields.
O'Neill was firing again, several times, rounds pinging on metal
plating, probably piercing whatever armour those people had, but
they still kept coming. She heard the crack of a breaking branch
behind her, wheeled around and lashed out wildly. She must have
connected, too, for her attacker howled in pain or fury and raised
a stubby sword.

A gladius. Here? How did they come by those? While some
distant corner of her mind still puzzled over the incongruity, another
shot rang out and the Roman sword sunk limply, followed by its
owner in whose forehead gaped a small round hole.

Covering her had been a mistake. With O'Neill's attention
diverted, five men had made a dash for him. The flat of a blade
crashed down on his arm, sent the gun flying. He ducked, rolled out
from under them. When he rose again, he was hefting a knife.

Well, that was no good, was it?

Wishing she' d joined the fencing club instead of the debate team
when she'd first enrolled at Oxford, Professor Kelly grabbed the
hunting stool with both hands and charged. The spiky end impaled
itself in the posterior of one of O'Neill's attackers, and the man
leaped forward with a roar, his knees sagging, dragging down her
makeshift weapon. She wrested it free and hit him over the head
with it.

For a second or two there was a dumbfounded lull, then four
more men launched themselves into the fray. O'Neill disarmed one
and wounded another, just as a third snuck up behind him. The
pommel of a sword struck his temple, vicious enough to split skin,
and he crumpled. The attacker snatched him as he fell and held him
propped up like a puppet, fist locked in his hair, edge of the sword
across his throat.

"Remitte!" the savage shouted at Kelly.

Give up? Not on your life, duckie! In response she swung the
hunting stool at the nearest victim.

"Remitte!" This time the blade had drawn blood.

Obviously that pillock meant it, and O'Neill was unlikely to
be any more pleasant with his head cut off. She supposed she
owed him one. If he'd taken to his heels and left her there - which
anybody with half a brain would have done, by the way - he could
have outrun them.

"Oh alright, then!" Grudgingly Kelly dropped the stool and
raised her hands.

"Nolite occidere!" the man barked at his compatriots and almost
gently lowered O'Neill to the ground.

Don't kill them? Well, that just wasn't cricket! If she'd known
Some broken-nosed oaf cautiously approached her, and
suddenly his eyes went wide.

"Quam avia mea videtur!" he hollered, and a few of the men
started laughing.

"So I look like your grandmother, do I? I'll give you your
grandmother!"

A huge, beefy hand snapped around her wrist and blocked the
blow. Simultaneously something very hard impacted with her skull.
Kelly's last conscious sensation was a teeth-rattling thud, then she
blacked out.

Teal'c had escorted Ayzebel into the house, and Daniel had
posted himself by the open front door waiting for his team mates
and the Professor. On the streets some kind of carnival was in full
swing. After the darkness and quiet of the hillside, the city seemed
garish and noisy. Torches stuck in iron brackets at every house and
flickered over a scene that had mutated from worshipful elation
to Bacchanalia. The good burghers of Tyros had raided their wine
cellars, pitchers and amphorae were passed to family and strangers
regardless, with everyone vying to achieve maximum inebriation
in minimum time. A delicate, dark-eyed girl caught his eye, smiled,
and glided towards him.

"Please, friend, drink." Small brown hands held up an
amphora.

Her smile, shy and placid, reminded him of Sha're, and he
grinned back. "No, thank you. I... uh... get sick..."

"Please, friend. Just one sip," she insisted and gave a
conspiratorial wink that contradicted the shyness. "My girlfriends
are watching. They said I would not have the courage to ask."

Across the street hovered three other girls, giggling and
blushing.

Daniel chuckled. "A dare, eh?"

"Do not be angry, please." It was her turn to blush. "You and
your friends are the talk of the town. Is it true that you came through
the Chappa'ai?"

"Yes." He took the amphora, had a token sip of wine, and handed
it back. The threesome across the street hid their faces in a shivering
flurry of veils. "What do you know about the Chappa'ai?"

"What everybody knows. It is the Gate of Paradise, the entrance
to Lord Meleq's realm."

"Does the Lord Meleq ever come here?"

"Not to the city!" She laughed. "Sometimes, when he is pleased
with us, he visits the temple. He has not visited in a long time."

"Yeah, I heard about that." Daniel's arm described a generous
circle, encompassing her, her friends, and the streetful of revelers.
"So why are you celebrating?"

"Because the Lord Meleq's servants have entered the temple
at last, and he will be pleased with us again. Also, we have a new
High Priest."

"The king is dead, long live the king, huh?"

The girl's forehead creased in bafflement, but she still smiled.
"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. It's just... it's something we say."

"Oh."

A homespun band had formed a little further down the street. A
couple of drums, three string instruments that looked like bouzoukis
and a singer with laudable enthusiasm and a foghorn voice. To top
it, he was either tone-deaf or too drunk to stay on key. The local
party animals didn't mind much. Throwing arms over each others'
shoulders, they linked into a stumbling line of dancers. Hava Nagila
gone pear-shaped. The line proceeded on the Conga principle, picking up passengers as it went along. Somebody reached for the
girl, snatched her robe. She grabbed Daniel's hand.

"Join us! It is fun!"

He freed himself and jumped back a step, smiling. "Thanks. I'd
rather watch."

For a second her eyes clouded in disappointment, then she was
swept away. As the line staggered past, a scuffle erupted near its
end. In fact, it looked more like a wrestling match than a dance,
steps hopelessly mixed up and shouts rising over the bawl of the
singer. Suddenly the line broke and spat out a hulky man who
landed flat on his face. Sam Carter stepped over him, dodged
groping hands, and skipped from reach. When she saw Daniel, she
waved and came loping up the steps, torn between amusement and
irritation.

He laughed. "Natives getting frisky?"

"You have no idea! I was trying to get out of it without causing a
diplomatic incident. What on earth are they on, anyway?"

"A prototype of Cabernet Sauvignon, by the taste of it."

"Daniel?"

"I only had one sip. Courtesy of an admirer."

"Yeah. Right." The Conga line was wobbling into a U-tum at
the end of the street, and Sam made for the door. "Let's go inside
before they come back."

"Speaking of diplomatic incidents, what happened to Jack?"

"The Colonel... uh... went for a stroll."

She disappeared inside looking decidedly shifty, which
suggested that the itinerary for Jack's nocturnal sightseeing tour
included the temple.

"A stroll, huh?" he called after her. "With the Professor?"

Sam's head popped back through the door like some toy on a
spring. "What did you say?"

"Where's Kelly?"

"Not funny, Daniel."

"I'm not kidding. Where is she?"

"Kelly was with you."

"We got separated. I figured she'd joined you and Jack." Which
was about as lame as it got. Daniel suppressed an urge to cringe. He should have known. "You think she "

A frightening leap in noise levels announced The Return of
the Conga, and Sam pulled him into the courtyard and closed the
door.

"Do I think she suckered you and went straight up to the temple?
As a matter of fact, yes."

"What do you want to do?"

"Remind Colonel O'Neill to harm her severely in case he finds
her, which he probably will," she replied grimly, keying her radio.
"Colonel? This is Carter. Come in, sir... Colonel?"

The radio burped copious amounts of static, but there was no
reply from Jack.

"Damn," she muttered softly.

"Yeah."

"Major Carter. You have returned."

Hands clasped behind his back, Teal'c strode across the
atrium, torchlight tinting his skin bronze. His measured, powerful
grace fit the place completely and lent him the air of an Oriental
potentate visiting his seraglio. You practically expected him to start
salaaming. He didn't go quite as far. He merely inclined his head.
Next, that eyebrow ratcheted up. Colloquial Jaffa for What's with
the numbers?

"Colonel O'Neill hasn't come back yet, but Kelly's made up for
it by giving Daniel the slip," Sam informed the eyebrow.

It was joined by its counterpart in a rare display of surprise. "I
see. Do you wish to search for Professor Kelly?"

"No." She sighed. "I'm pretty sure the Professor's gone to the
temple, and you heard what Ayzebel said about that. If we turn
up as well, it'll only make matters worse. We wait. The Colonel
should be back in less than an hour, and if she hasn't shown up by
then we'll reassess our options."

Teal'c studied her thoughtfully. "I believe you are correct, Major
Carter. It will be wiser to wait."

Which was exactly what they did. Daniel stretched out on the
rim of the pool, staring up at a square of stars. A little further along
sat Sam and Teal'c, talking quietly. The whoops and howls of
the revelers in the street drifted in only faintly, and the patio still smelled of the flowers Ayzebel had strewn earlier in the day. He
could get used to this, if it weren't for the fact that things were off
somehow. Like one of those pictures by M C Escher, showing what
seemed like a perfectly good staircase until you looked closely
and realized that the stairs led both up and down at the same time.
The staircase grew larger and three-dimensional, and General
Hammond got really annoyed because he met Dr. Kelly who argued
that she'd been excavating staircases since before George was an
itch in his daddy's trousers, and he couldn't possibly be going up
the stairs if he was coming towards her. Kandaulo skipped downup the opposite side, chasing Hamilqart and Ayzebel who backed
up-down hopping like Easter bunnies into Teal'c and the Conga
Line who were singing Ay Bouzouki to Baal, but hopscotch wasn't
allowed on the stairs, so Sam was frantically typing on a computer
to figure it all out, because Jack lay upright, crushed against a metal
spider web, hurting and terrified, and he fell and fell and fell, up
and down, into a silent ocher downside-up-upside-down abyss, and
everything he always locked down floated up, inside out, carved in
his face, terrified and hurting.

Daniel?

"Jack!"

He jerked awake, nearly rolled into the basin, and steadied
himself with the wrong hand, up to his armpit in water. At least
it chased away the remnants of his dream. If it had been a dream.
Teal'c and Sam stared at him, mystified, and the noise from the
street had stopped completely.

"Daniel Jackson?"

"Daniel?"

"What happened to Jack?" he croaked.

"I told you half an hour ago." Sam frowned. "The Colonel went
up to the temple."

"That's not what I mean! While I was... gone!" His fingers
fluttered in lieu of a more accurate description, sprinkling drops of
water on the floor. "While I was gone. Something happened to Jack
while I was gone."

Oh here we go again! That goddamn exchange of furtive looks.
Dr. Jackson, this briefing is classified. Screw this!

"You were dreaming. Daniel, you're probably -"

"Don't give me that, Sam!"

"Daniel Jackson, we "

At which point the front door crashed open. Daniel half expected
the Conga to make an entrance and felt an uncharacteristic desire to
shoot the lot of them. Except, it wasn't the revelers. It was a group
of twelve men, led by Kandaulo and Hamilgart, and they weren't
dancing. Most of them had minor injuries, all of them were dirty,
and six of them wore armor and swords. Guards of some sort, and
burly ones at that. Sam had leaped to her feet.

"Hamilgart?"

Their host squirmed, and Kandaulo pushed him aside.
"Apprehend them!"

The guards took two or three steps and froze in their tracks
as Teal'c made a meal of rising to his full height. Psychological
warfare personified. How did you arrest a spirit if you actually
believed in such things?

"Them!" Kandaulo pointed at Sam and Daniel.

The guards dithered, glanced at Teal'c.

"What is the meaning of this?" the spirit enquired politely.

Evidently this was the night for abortive explanations. Before
anyone had a chance to reply, Hamilqart's wife came rushing along
the arcade, trailed by a bevy of servants, some carrying torches.

"Husband!"

"I am well," the master of the house reassured her, a little wistful,
as though he had preferred to return covered in heroic wounds.

"I am glad to see you unharmed." Almost the same words she
had used the previous day, but now they seemed formulaic, and she
looked relieved for all the wrong reasons.

Teal'c fixed the largest of the beefcakes with a glare he could
only have picked up from Apophis. "You! Speak!"

The man shuddered and a glow of eager dread spread over
grime-smudged features. Then he sank to his knees. "The temple
was attacked, Lord Spirit. Your friend and the old woman were
among the Phrygians."

"I do not believe you."

His face mere inches from the floor, the hapless guard shivered again. "It is the truth, Lord, I swear."

"I saw them." Gingerly, Hamilgart stepped forward. "They did
come running toward the gate ahead of the other attackers. But I
admit it is possible that they -"