Summary: The Guide is seeking his destiny.
A BIG THANK YOU to hercat, who betas my stuff even though she's busy. She's been very gentle to this new writer. This is my second story.
Disclaimer: All characters, places, and objects from The Sentinel belong to Pet Fly Productions, UPN, and Paramount. All stories are written with the love of the show in mind. No money is being made. All stories are property of the author.
The fire was warm and the wind was brisk and out of the north. The
young man pulled his clothing tightly around his shoulders and under his long dark hair. He had come seeking answers and he hoped this old one, a respected and wise shaman, would have the answers he needed. Only time would tell.
“It is said that there is a story from the early times of a watchman
and his companion.”
The old shaman clutched his staff across his lap as he sat beside the
fire. He watched the young one as he leaned toward the shaman in his eagerness, the desire evident in his manner. Questions were barely contained, yet there was also a hesitancy. For under the intense thirst for answers was despair. A soul deep despair that dwelled in his young/old eyes. For the young one feared the answer as well as craved it.
“The watchmen . . . Shaman, does one still live? Would he allow me to question him? What of his companion?” The young man questioned
“You seek a watchman of your own,” spoke the shaman.
The young man sat back and pulled his clothing still tighter around
him. He looked at the shaman with even more respect. He acknowledged the shaman's insight with a nod.
“The young people of my clan have heard the story many times, yet they still request it often. It is no hardship to repeat it. It is an old tale,
much revered. But we have not been honored with a watchman for many generations.”
“The story of old involved a seeker such as you. He too sought the
tales of ancient times and ancient legends. His search led him over many trails and away from his home to know many peoples. From them he sought the histories and legends of a dark time. A time when little was remembered of the watchmen and their abilities, or of the care given by their companions that eased the watchman's duties.
“But this young man, by chance or by destiny, came to meet a tortured
watchman, a man who could focus on things others could not see, hear, taste, smell or touch. A man so ravaged by his own abilities that he was near the point of madness. The young companion had found his watchman, now he had only to save him from himself.
“But the watchman was a proud man. A man long solitary in his life. A man ridiculed and abandoned by his family. Even his mate had turned from him because of his coldness, for he had no companion to warm his heart and draw him from his darkness.
“Yet finally his companion found him. Although the watchman was
reluctant, a bond was forged that would see them through trying times. Brother claimed brother, until calamity overcame them.
“Another watchman, a female, tried to sever their bond. Since the
female had no companion of her own she tried to claim this one, but he was steadfast in his bond. She did not understand the connection that bound these two brothers of the spirit. Even death could not separate them. Her jealousy and hatred of their brotherhood further drove her toward madness. She killed the companion thinking the watchman's defeat would follow.
“The watchman in his grief bound himself further to his brother,
snatching his spirit from death. Their great spirits rose to merge. A burst of light surrounded them that was their connection reforming and binding their spirits to the earth once again. Jaguar spirit strode forth with his Wolf spirit companion to vanquish the intruding female as her madness overcame her.”
“This story is spoken with reverence for the spirits of our ancestors,
watchman and companion. Is this what you sought young one?”
“I have sought a watchman for many years. Fate has not blessed me. I am afraid it may be too late to find watchmen in this time. If watchmen of old do not still exist, then we have lost something of great value. I thank you shaman, for your time and for your story. It is part of what I sought. Someday I hope to find the rest.”
Several years later
A gnarled and bent old shaman of the high desert stood proudly with the painted shaman of the jungle. <The trial of watchman and companion has begun again Incacha. We shall see if this pair has the courage and the bond to take on their destiny.>