Clash of the Morning Stars
Title: Clash of the Morning Stars
Word count: ~4,600
Warnings: Set sometime during season 3 or 4, no spoilers for any episode
Summary: When John is captured, the team steps up to save him.
Huge thanks to my beta, everybetty! This was my first attempt at one of the help_pakistan prompts (so you may notice certain similarities between this one and the other story), but it came out rather more medieval than muskets and swords. Also, there is no recover-on-Atlantis scene. If anyone wants to write that, go for it! It's all yours.
Clash of the Morning Stars
“You are certain this is where our friend was taken?” Teyla whispered, trying not to scrunch her nose at the smell of the small man next to her. In the darkness, she could just barely make out his arm as he pointed through the thick bushes they were crouching behind.
“Castle Kerrigbane,” the man whispered. He tucked a small swatch of greasy hair behind his ear with a shaking hand. “Lord Kerrig resides in the upper tower, but all prisoners are kept below, in the dungeon. Your friend was seen taken there by the guards after they attacked the meeting of the Black Hand this morning.”
“McKay, you ready if we need a distraction?” Ronon whispered, tapping his radio.
“Yes, ready,” came the tense reply.
“I should be with you,” Carson’s voice broke through.
Teyla immediately shook her head in the darkness. This had to be a quick operation-in and out before the guards or the castle lord realized what was happening. Any delay could cost John his life. “You will be able to treat him soon enough,” she answered.
“If even half the stories of this Lord Kerrig’s cruelty are true, Colonel Sheppard could be in bad shape.”
“Too dangerous, doc,” Ronon answered. “Stay with McKay, keep your eyes on the ground. Anyone comes our way, you tell us.”
At Carson’s reluctant agreement, Teyla nodded and tapped Ronon on the shoulder. The two guards on the far side of the castle compound had moved away from the small door leading to the dungeon, laughing and drinking as they staggered around.
The attack had come quickly and without warning that morning. They’d emerged from the gate into a thick copse of trees and followed a narrow path to a small village. It had looked like any other village on any number of planets, but when they’d entered the tavern, they found themselves standing in the middle of a tense meeting-a secret gathering of resistance members who called themselves the Black Hand and who were intent on taking down the feudal lord who dominated their lives.
Before the resistance members could react to their presence, the feudal guards had stormed the room. Teyla only vaguely recalled hearing boots pounding outside of the tavern before the door had been kicked in, and men wearing bright red and purple clothing swarmed the densely packed room. She remembered screams and bodies shoving into her as everyone tried to escape in a panic. John and Ronon had reacted instantly, moving to protect Rodney and Carson, but the swarm of movement had split them up, carrying her outside and giving her more space to fight and more men to fight against.
Ronon ran from the bushes, darting across the open field toward the dungeon door. She followed quickly, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. When the battle had finally ended and the guards had retreated back to the castle, she’d been horrified to find John among the missing. Hours later, they had finally found an eyewitness who had seen him being dragged to the prison.
Please let us not be too late, she thought. The battle had been fierce, the weapons crude but effective. The Black Hand members had been armed with short daggers and sticks, while Lord Kerrig’s guards had fought with swords and something Rodney had called morning stars-short clubs covered with spikes on one end. She shivered at the memory, still hearing the screams of the dead and dying as they’d fought.
Ronon ran ahead, reaching the two guards and cutting them down without a sound before she caught up with him. He was angry, she knew, taking John’s capture as a sign of his personal failure. She did not envy anyone who got in his way tonight.
The dungeon door swung open at a touch, and she guessed that escapes and break-ins were not frequent enough around here for the guards to expect it. They were lucky-perhaps they would be able to reach John before any alert was sounded. She dug into her vest and pulled out a small flashlight as they began their descent, illuminating the narrow staircase. The smell was atrocious, and she fought against the urge to gag. Carson was right-John’s condition could be serious, if he was even alive, and she steeled herself against what she was about to find.
There was one more guard walking toward them as they hit the bottom of the stairs. Teyla caught the look of surprise on his face when she shone her flashlight at him, but seconds later, he dropped to the ground, enveloped in the red, crackling blast of Ronon’s gun. Without a word, Ronon jumped over the body and kept running, scanning the fire-lit cells on either side of him for their team leader.
“Here!” he said, and despite the low volume of his voice, Teyla flinched. He shot the lock out of the door and kicked it in, diving into the cell a second later.
“John?” Teyla ask, dread pooling in her gut.
“Sheppard, buddy,” Ronon whispered. Teyla scanned the small cell with her flashlight and saw Ronon kneeling on the ground, John’s legs splayed out next to him. She stumbled forward, dropping down to the cold stone floor.
“He’s hurt,” Ronon said, pointing toward John’s side. Teyla looked down to see a dirty bandage wrapped loosely around his stomach and soaked through with blood.
“Sheppard?” Ronon called out, shaking him. Teyla tensed as he dug his fingers into the side of the man’s neck, then almost fell over at Ronon’s relieved nod. “He’s alive. We’ve got to move.”
It took seconds for her to position John over Ronon’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and then the two of them were running again, back down the hall and up the stairs toward the crisp clear night and freedom.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
They met up with Carson and Rodney in an abandoned barn halfway between the gate and the castle. Carson jumped forward as Ronon came through the door and eased John to the ground. Teyla followed, gulping in air from their quick run, her eyes riveted on John’s body.
“That was good,” Rodney was saying behind her. “That was fast. We didn’t even need the distraction.”
“Not yet,” Ronon said.
Teyla moved forward, kneeling on John’s other side, helping the doctor roll their injured friend onto his back. The sight of his battered face sent a stab of pain through her chest. He’d been beaten viciously, his right eye swollen shut and dried blood caked to his nose and lip, and in his hair above his right ear.
Carson grumbled, his hands moving quickly as he checked John over, but Teyla paid no attention to whatever he was saying. Her focus was completely on John. He had yet to wake up, and she brushed back his hair, silently urging him to return to consciousness and show them he was okay. Bruised and battered, yes, but ultimately okay. Carson pulled back his shirt, and Teyla caught a glimpse of purple swollen flesh on his chest and stomach before the doctor pulled the shirt back down.
“I need my bag,” he snapped.
Rodney stepped forward, holding the bag out to him. A slight knock at the door had all of them stiffening, and Rodney and Ronon raised their weapons. A shaved head peeked into the barn, followed by the greasy, stringy-haired head of the small man who’d shown them where John was being held.
“You freed your friend?” the small man asked in wonder, his eyes darting to John’s still form.
“There has been no alarm yet at the castle, but it will not be long,” the man with the shaved head interrupted. He was the leader of the Black Hand, and he cut off the greasy man’s curiosity with a wave of his hand. “The Lord’s guards are still searching the countryside for my people as well. We cannot stay here.”
“This man is not going anywhere,” Carson barked. “Ronon, he’s in bad shape. It looks like he was hit in the side with one of those morning stars. The injury is deep and already infected. We can’t go carting him all over the countryside. I’m not moving him until I’ve had a chance to get some fluids in him and packed the wounds in his side.”
Ronon hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the doctor. A moment later he nodded and turned to the resistance leader. “McKay and I will come with you, scope out the area to the gate to make sure it’s clear.” He turned back to Carson and Teyla, his voice growing gentle. “Doc, be ready for us. When we return, we’ll have to move quickly.”
“Aye, I understand,” Carson replied, relief washing across his face.
“Teyla-”
“I will stay with John and Carson,” she finished, not entirely sure if that was what Ronon had intended to ask her. She would not leave the two of them undefended.
“Yep,” Ronon said. “Watch yourselves, stay on the radio.”
They were gone before she could respond, disappearing into the darkness and taking the two resistance members with them. She spotted a lamp near the door and she lit it quickly, bringing a warm glow of light into the room. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Carson to see John and tend his injuries if she set it on the ground next to them.
He worked quickly. Teyla stayed near John’s head, absently running her hand through his hair. She found the motion calming, even if John was completely unaware of it. Carson cut away the dirty bandage and tossed it to the side with a grimace. In the dim light, Teyla saw three red, angry puncture wounds on his stomach and side, oozing blood and fluids and bunched close together. As Carson began cleaning them out, John groaned.
“John?”
“Keep him still, if you can,” Carson said.
Teyla grabbed his hands, holding them away from where Carson was working and began whispering in his ear. John’s eyes fluttered, and he whimpered again, his breathing growing harsh as he squirmed.
“There we go.”
Teyla looked over too see the doctor tugging John’s shirt back over a thick, white bandage. Now that he was done, John calmed, and she was glad to see him staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes.
“John, it is alright. You are safe.”
John swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He turned to Teyla, and she frowned at the grayish pallor beneath the bruises.
“Teyla?”
“I am here,” she said.
“How?...Don’t remember…”
“You were captured. Ronon and I were able to break you out. Carson is treating your wounds and then we will make a run for the gate.”
John blinked, his eyes rolling in his head. She had no idea if he was hearing her, but it helped to talk to him. Helped her. His hand had slipped from her grasp and she grabbed it again, squeezing it.
“Teyla…”
“I am right here.”
“Others?”
“Carson is here as well.”
“Aye, lad,” Carson broke in. “We’ll get you home in no time. You’ll feel a quick pinch in your arm.”
Teyla watched as the doctor quickly inserted an IV needle in the crook of John’s arm, but John didn’t react to it at all. The quick pinch had to be a minor irritation compared to the rest of his injuries.
“Hurts,” he whispered.
“I know,” the doctor answered. “I’ll get you something for that in a second.”
“Ronon and Rodney went to the gate, to make sure the path was clear. We will join them soon.”
“King guy,” John muttered. “Wanted to know…black hand…”
Teyla leaned forward, brushing his hair away from his forehead. His skin was hot and two small beads of red were beginning to glow on his cheeks. “He is very warm,” she whispered to Carson. He nodded, pulling a thermometer out of his bag and sticking it in John’s ear. John flinched, turning away from him, but his movements were weak and uncoordinated.
“Told him…no black hand. Not sure…kept asking…questions…I didn’t know…”
“Sssshh,” Teyla soothed. “It is over now. You are safe from him.”
The thermometer beeped and Carson pulled it out. Teyla glanced up to catch him scowling at the read-out.
“Is it high?” she asked, although she already knew the answer. She could feel the heat emanating from John’s body.
“Guards…” John continued to mumble. “Kept hitting…side hurts…headache…”
“Too high,” Carson sighed. He tossed it back into his bag and began digging around for something else.
“Hammer time,” John muttered.
“What?” Teyla leaned forward, hearing the words but not understanding their meaning.
“Those guys,” John breathed out. “Puffy pants. Hammer time.”
“I do not understand.”
“S’okay,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Earth thing. Dark, dark time, hammer pants.”
“Ignore him, love. I think that’s the fever talking,” Carson interjected.
John squirmed in the hay, frowning when he moved the arm with the IV. He lifted it, blinking rapidly as if he was having a difficult time focusing. Teyla sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was exhausted. John took advantage of the moment and grabbed at the IV tubing with his free hand.
“Ach, no,” Carson huffed, pulling John’s hand away. He placed two hands on John’s face and turned him until he caught the sick man’s gaze. “You can’t touch this,” he said, smiling.
John grunted, smiling back. “Hammer time.”
With a chuckle, Carson patted John’s shoulder. He pulled out a syringe and injected it into the IV, then turned to Teyla. “Keep an eye on him. I’m going to look around for a bucket and water. We need to do something about that fever.”
Teyla settled next to John, smiling slightly when he turned toward her and let his eyes drift closed. She leaned back and looked around the barn, taking in her surroundings for the first time. It was a large barn, with broken stalls on one side. Hay lay scattered all over the floor, blown around by the wind through the doors and windows. On the other side of the barn was a wide ladder leading up to a loft where most of the hay seemed to have originated. It was still piled high beneath a large window.
The sky was turning from black to gray, the first indication that dawn was on its way. They had been forced to wait until dark to rescue John, and it had taken them sometime to reach the barn, but the nights on this planet were obviously short, reminding her suddenly of Athos. She felt a pang of grief lance through her as memories of her old world rose in her mind. It had been a long time since she’d thought of Athos and all that had been lost there.
“Teyla!”
Carson’s hiss jarred her from her thoughts and she jerked her head up in surprise.
“What is it?”
“The guards-they’re coming! We’ve got to hide.”
Teyla’s mind raced as she jumped up. It had been dark when they’d ran to the barn, but she knew it sat in the middle of a large field. The nearest tree line was too far away for them to make a run for it, especially with John injured. She spun around, her eyes fastening on the ladder to the loft.
“Up there,” she whispered. “We can hide in the hay.”
They wasted no time. Between the two of them, they managed to lift John and carry him up the ladder, but they were forced to move slowly. Climbing too quickly could have easily resulted in John’s sagging weight shifting too far to the side and one of them slipping and falling.
Near the top of the ladder, Teyla climbed up onto the loft then pulled John up after her. John moaned but his eyes stayed closed, his arms and legs limp. Carson scrambled up a second later and tossed his medical bag toward the wall. Together, they shifted John as far back into the loft as possible, directly under the large square window now showing an increasingly brighter sky. There was plenty of hay to fluff up around them, so as long as the guards didn’t snoop too far, they had a chance of going undetected.
Carson leaned over the ladder and peered back down into the barn. “Dammit!”
“What is it?”
“The lantern,” he answered, swinging his legs over the side and dropping back onto the ladder. “And we left a bloody bandage down there as well.”
He climbed down before Teyla could say anything. She heard his feet hit the ground with a thud then patter across the dirt floor. The small light in the barn suddenly extinguished and she held her breath. Had the guards seen it? The lamp had not been that bright, mostly just illuminating the spot of floor where it had been set. Did the guards know they were in here or were they just making a routine sweep? She strained her ears for any sign of them outside and heard Carson making his way toward the other end of the barn instead of toward the loft.
The door flew open with a bang, and both she and John flinched. She pulled John’s head and shoulders onto her lap and leaned over him, whispering to him to lie still. Loud voices echoed up from the ground, kicking at the debris.
“Thought I saw a light in here.”
“There’s a lamp.”
“It’s hot. Someone’s here.”
“Or they were. Maybe they saw us coming and ran.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. Black Hand cowards, always running.”
John was breathing rapidly, his exhales tickling the side of her face. She reached for his hand and grabbed it, willing him to stay quiet and careful not to shift her weight. If the boards supporting them creaked at all, they would be caught easily.
“See anyone?” One of the voices called out.
Teyla closed her eyes, trying to distinguish them. At least three people had spoken, maybe more, but it was hard to tell. Only one of the voices was distinctive, a high-pitched nasally one that sounded nervous.
“No. You want to keep moving?”
“Lord Kerrig wants us to-” the nasally voice started.
“I’ll chinstrap you if you keep telling us what Lord Kerrig wants,” another voice-maybe the first voice-snarled. She heard snickers from the others, and the sound of footsteps dragging across the floor and exiting the barn.
“Garv, Nek-search this place, but do it quickly.”
Another body crossed the barn and left, and voices erupted outside, orders to search the area. Teyla was just starting to relax when she heard one of the men left to search the barn cross toward the ladder.
“I’ll start up here,” he said.
No! she thought, begging the Ancestors for a reprieve. Please do not let them find us. She heard one foot hit the ladder, then another.
Gun. Her P90 was lying next to her and she picked it up carefully. She did not want to shoot the man coming toward her, but she would defend herself and John if necessary. She would not let them take John again.
“Here, I’m here!”
Teyla froze, feeling her heart jump into her throat at the sound of Carson’s voice. What is he doing?
“Please, don’t hurt me.”
“Who are you?” one of the men yelled.
The man on the ladder jumped back to the floor, and Teyla heard someone running outside, yelling that they’d found a man.
“My name is Carson,” the doctor replied. “I was sleeping here. I have nowhere to live-I’m just passing through. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
“You Black Hand?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Black Hand?”
“I don’t know what that means. Please, I’m not from around here. I’ll keep moving. I won’t make any trouble.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Teyla kept her head down, breathing as hard as John was. She heard Carson and the other man leave the barn, and then they were alone. Slowly, she sat up and peered out the window. She had a perfect view of the farm field, mist clinging to the grass in the early morning. It would have been beautiful were it not for the group of red and purple clad soldiers pointing swords and morning star clubs at Carson. They stood in a loose circle around him, yelling at him, but they were now too far away for her to understand what was being asked and answered.
“Teyla?” John whispered.
She glanced down in surprise, not realizing he was even awake. She patted the side of his face, forcing herself to take a deep breath and trying to relay a sense of calmness to her injured friend through touch alone. She tapped her radio next, careful to keep her voice low.
“Ronon, Rodney-the guards have found the barn. They have Carson.”
“We’re coming,” came Ronon’s fast response.
She didn’t dare say more. Her heart was thrumming in her chest already. She peered out of the window again and saw that the circle around Carson had moved to one side, leaving him alone. One of the men moved forward, leaning into the doctor as he yelled.
“Help me…up,” John grunted. “What’s…happening?”
He struggled against her attempts to keep him lying down, strengthened by the IV fluid and painkillers now pumping through him. With a sigh, she hefted him up so that he could peer over the lip of the window. He began to sag almost immediately, and she shifted closer to him, propping him up and holding him steady.
The man yelling at Carson grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and forced him to his knees. She bit her lip against the gasp of panic at the scene playing out below them. Ronon and Rodney were nowhere to be seen and, she feared, too far to do anything in time. She eyed her weapon again, wondering if she was skilled enough with the P90 to shoot the guards and not kill Carson in the process.
“Gun,” John whispered, reaching a hand out blindly to his side.
“What do you intend to do?” Teyla asked, but she handed him the P90 anyway.
The man confronting Carson had stepped back and turned toward his men. One of them handed him a morning star, and he swung it around in a wide arc.
John raised the weapon, switching it to single-shot mode with a flick of his finger. His hands were shaking-his whole body was shaking-making it impossible for him to hold the gun steady. Teyla leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and laying her hands on his. Beneath both their grips, the gun steadied on the windowsill. John leaned forward, staring down the sight. Teyla moved with him, steadying his hands and arms. She could not see where he was aiming, but she trusted his skill.
She felt his arms tense beneath hers and she braced herself. A split second later, John pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded with sound. He was moving before she had a chance to look up and see if he’d hit the man with the morning star, sliding the gun across the window sill to take aim again.
The man about to kill Carson was on the ground, and Carson was crawling away from him. The guards were spinning around in confusion, screaming at the sudden turn of events. Teyla steadied John’s hands again and he fired a second time, hitting another man and spinning him around until he fell face first into the mud.
“Teyla, Carson-what’s going on?” Rodney’s voice cut across the sound of weapons fire, sounding panicked. John was still shooting, but his aim was beginning to falter.
The noise, however, seemed to be enough. Most of the guards were running back toward the trees, away from the barn. Carson had crawled another ten yards, almost out of sight from her vantage point in the barn’s loft.
“We are firing at the guards, but I do not know how long we will be able to hold them off,” she replied.
“We’re almost there,” Ronon answered.
Please hurry, she thought, but she didn’t dare say it out loud.
With a grunt, John sagged into her, almost dropping the weapon out of the window as he suddenly went limp. Teyla jerked to catch both him and the P90. She set the weapon next to her then eased John to the floor. His face was pale, and his eyes fluttering with the last of his strength.
Fear at his condition combined with fury for what the feudal guards had put them through twisted inside her gut. She climbed over John and grabbed the P90, flipping it from single-shot to full automatic. Now that Carson was safely out of the way, she was not worried about who she hit. Her main goal, though, was to scare them, despite what they had been about to do to the doctor. She leaned out the window and began shooting at the feet of the handful of guards still standing near the barn. The men jumped back in surprise, and one of them fell to the ground and grabbed his leg, writhing at the wound Teyla guessed had been caused by a bullet ricochet. The others began backpedaling, finally spotting her and pointing their swords and clubs in her direction with panicked shouts.
A red blast suddenly erupted from the other side of the barn, catching one of the men and dropping him like a stone. At the same time, the barn door below her flew open, and Rodney’s voice screamed up at her.
“Teyla!”
“Up here,” she called out. The last of the guards were running across the field, away from Ronon’s continuous blasts. She let out her breath in relief and slid down the wall to the floor.
Rodney pounded up the ladder, and Teyla looked up just as he reached top. “You okay?” he asked, breathless.
She grabbed John’s wrist, digging her fingers into his pulse point, and she was rewarded by a steady, albeit weak, beat against her fingertips and a frown as John opened his eyes and looked up at her. “We are fine,” she said, smiling as she looked up at John.
“Hurts,” John muttered. “Tired.”
“Carson?”
Rodney nodded. “He’s fine.”
She heard the doctor’s voice a second later calling up to them and Rodney glanced down the ladder. He smiled and looked back at Teyla. “See? Not hurt at all.”
“What about the path to the gate?”
“Clear,” Rodney answered. He shifted to the side as Carson climbed up beside him then clambered onto the loft. “For now, anyway. We should probably hurry.”
The barn door swung open again beneath them and Ronon’s entrance was given away by his heavy footsteps. Carson moved closer to John, feeling his pulse and tapping him on the side of the face.
“John, lad, time to go home.”
John’s eyes fluttered open as Carson and Teyla began lifting him up.
“Let’s get off this planet,” Ronon bellowed. “I’m hungry.”
“Hammer time,” John whispered, causing Carson to snort with laughter and Rodney to groan.
Teyla smiled, knowing they still had a ways to go before they were safe, but feeling the tension of the battle unwinding in her chest. She took a deep breath and stared up at the brightening sky as the last of the morning stars disappeared, feeling a calming peace return to her before she climbed down the ladder and followed her teammates.
END
Word count: ~4,600
Warnings: Set sometime during season 3 or 4, no spoilers for any episode
Summary: When John is captured, the team steps up to save him.
Huge thanks to my beta, everybetty! This was my first attempt at one of the help_pakistan prompts (so you may notice certain similarities between this one and the other story), but it came out rather more medieval than muskets and swords. Also, there is no recover-on-Atlantis scene. If anyone wants to write that, go for it! It's all yours.
Clash of the Morning Stars
“You are certain this is where our friend was taken?” Teyla whispered, trying not to scrunch her nose at the smell of the small man next to her. In the darkness, she could just barely make out his arm as he pointed through the thick bushes they were crouching behind.
“Castle Kerrigbane,” the man whispered. He tucked a small swatch of greasy hair behind his ear with a shaking hand. “Lord Kerrig resides in the upper tower, but all prisoners are kept below, in the dungeon. Your friend was seen taken there by the guards after they attacked the meeting of the Black Hand this morning.”
“McKay, you ready if we need a distraction?” Ronon whispered, tapping his radio.
“Yes, ready,” came the tense reply.
“I should be with you,” Carson’s voice broke through.
Teyla immediately shook her head in the darkness. This had to be a quick operation-in and out before the guards or the castle lord realized what was happening. Any delay could cost John his life. “You will be able to treat him soon enough,” she answered.
“If even half the stories of this Lord Kerrig’s cruelty are true, Colonel Sheppard could be in bad shape.”
“Too dangerous, doc,” Ronon answered. “Stay with McKay, keep your eyes on the ground. Anyone comes our way, you tell us.”
At Carson’s reluctant agreement, Teyla nodded and tapped Ronon on the shoulder. The two guards on the far side of the castle compound had moved away from the small door leading to the dungeon, laughing and drinking as they staggered around.
The attack had come quickly and without warning that morning. They’d emerged from the gate into a thick copse of trees and followed a narrow path to a small village. It had looked like any other village on any number of planets, but when they’d entered the tavern, they found themselves standing in the middle of a tense meeting-a secret gathering of resistance members who called themselves the Black Hand and who were intent on taking down the feudal lord who dominated their lives.
Before the resistance members could react to their presence, the feudal guards had stormed the room. Teyla only vaguely recalled hearing boots pounding outside of the tavern before the door had been kicked in, and men wearing bright red and purple clothing swarmed the densely packed room. She remembered screams and bodies shoving into her as everyone tried to escape in a panic. John and Ronon had reacted instantly, moving to protect Rodney and Carson, but the swarm of movement had split them up, carrying her outside and giving her more space to fight and more men to fight against.
Ronon ran from the bushes, darting across the open field toward the dungeon door. She followed quickly, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. When the battle had finally ended and the guards had retreated back to the castle, she’d been horrified to find John among the missing. Hours later, they had finally found an eyewitness who had seen him being dragged to the prison.
Please let us not be too late, she thought. The battle had been fierce, the weapons crude but effective. The Black Hand members had been armed with short daggers and sticks, while Lord Kerrig’s guards had fought with swords and something Rodney had called morning stars-short clubs covered with spikes on one end. She shivered at the memory, still hearing the screams of the dead and dying as they’d fought.
Ronon ran ahead, reaching the two guards and cutting them down without a sound before she caught up with him. He was angry, she knew, taking John’s capture as a sign of his personal failure. She did not envy anyone who got in his way tonight.
The dungeon door swung open at a touch, and she guessed that escapes and break-ins were not frequent enough around here for the guards to expect it. They were lucky-perhaps they would be able to reach John before any alert was sounded. She dug into her vest and pulled out a small flashlight as they began their descent, illuminating the narrow staircase. The smell was atrocious, and she fought against the urge to gag. Carson was right-John’s condition could be serious, if he was even alive, and she steeled herself against what she was about to find.
There was one more guard walking toward them as they hit the bottom of the stairs. Teyla caught the look of surprise on his face when she shone her flashlight at him, but seconds later, he dropped to the ground, enveloped in the red, crackling blast of Ronon’s gun. Without a word, Ronon jumped over the body and kept running, scanning the fire-lit cells on either side of him for their team leader.
“Here!” he said, and despite the low volume of his voice, Teyla flinched. He shot the lock out of the door and kicked it in, diving into the cell a second later.
“John?” Teyla ask, dread pooling in her gut.
“Sheppard, buddy,” Ronon whispered. Teyla scanned the small cell with her flashlight and saw Ronon kneeling on the ground, John’s legs splayed out next to him. She stumbled forward, dropping down to the cold stone floor.
“He’s hurt,” Ronon said, pointing toward John’s side. Teyla looked down to see a dirty bandage wrapped loosely around his stomach and soaked through with blood.
“Sheppard?” Ronon called out, shaking him. Teyla tensed as he dug his fingers into the side of the man’s neck, then almost fell over at Ronon’s relieved nod. “He’s alive. We’ve got to move.”
It took seconds for her to position John over Ronon’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and then the two of them were running again, back down the hall and up the stairs toward the crisp clear night and freedom.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
They met up with Carson and Rodney in an abandoned barn halfway between the gate and the castle. Carson jumped forward as Ronon came through the door and eased John to the ground. Teyla followed, gulping in air from their quick run, her eyes riveted on John’s body.
“That was good,” Rodney was saying behind her. “That was fast. We didn’t even need the distraction.”
“Not yet,” Ronon said.
Teyla moved forward, kneeling on John’s other side, helping the doctor roll their injured friend onto his back. The sight of his battered face sent a stab of pain through her chest. He’d been beaten viciously, his right eye swollen shut and dried blood caked to his nose and lip, and in his hair above his right ear.
Carson grumbled, his hands moving quickly as he checked John over, but Teyla paid no attention to whatever he was saying. Her focus was completely on John. He had yet to wake up, and she brushed back his hair, silently urging him to return to consciousness and show them he was okay. Bruised and battered, yes, but ultimately okay. Carson pulled back his shirt, and Teyla caught a glimpse of purple swollen flesh on his chest and stomach before the doctor pulled the shirt back down.
“I need my bag,” he snapped.
Rodney stepped forward, holding the bag out to him. A slight knock at the door had all of them stiffening, and Rodney and Ronon raised their weapons. A shaved head peeked into the barn, followed by the greasy, stringy-haired head of the small man who’d shown them where John was being held.
“You freed your friend?” the small man asked in wonder, his eyes darting to John’s still form.
“There has been no alarm yet at the castle, but it will not be long,” the man with the shaved head interrupted. He was the leader of the Black Hand, and he cut off the greasy man’s curiosity with a wave of his hand. “The Lord’s guards are still searching the countryside for my people as well. We cannot stay here.”
“This man is not going anywhere,” Carson barked. “Ronon, he’s in bad shape. It looks like he was hit in the side with one of those morning stars. The injury is deep and already infected. We can’t go carting him all over the countryside. I’m not moving him until I’ve had a chance to get some fluids in him and packed the wounds in his side.”
Ronon hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the doctor. A moment later he nodded and turned to the resistance leader. “McKay and I will come with you, scope out the area to the gate to make sure it’s clear.” He turned back to Carson and Teyla, his voice growing gentle. “Doc, be ready for us. When we return, we’ll have to move quickly.”
“Aye, I understand,” Carson replied, relief washing across his face.
“Teyla-”
“I will stay with John and Carson,” she finished, not entirely sure if that was what Ronon had intended to ask her. She would not leave the two of them undefended.
“Yep,” Ronon said. “Watch yourselves, stay on the radio.”
They were gone before she could respond, disappearing into the darkness and taking the two resistance members with them. She spotted a lamp near the door and she lit it quickly, bringing a warm glow of light into the room. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Carson to see John and tend his injuries if she set it on the ground next to them.
He worked quickly. Teyla stayed near John’s head, absently running her hand through his hair. She found the motion calming, even if John was completely unaware of it. Carson cut away the dirty bandage and tossed it to the side with a grimace. In the dim light, Teyla saw three red, angry puncture wounds on his stomach and side, oozing blood and fluids and bunched close together. As Carson began cleaning them out, John groaned.
“John?”
“Keep him still, if you can,” Carson said.
Teyla grabbed his hands, holding them away from where Carson was working and began whispering in his ear. John’s eyes fluttered, and he whimpered again, his breathing growing harsh as he squirmed.
“There we go.”
Teyla looked over too see the doctor tugging John’s shirt back over a thick, white bandage. Now that he was done, John calmed, and she was glad to see him staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes.
“John, it is alright. You are safe.”
John swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He turned to Teyla, and she frowned at the grayish pallor beneath the bruises.
“Teyla?”
“I am here,” she said.
“How?...Don’t remember…”
“You were captured. Ronon and I were able to break you out. Carson is treating your wounds and then we will make a run for the gate.”
John blinked, his eyes rolling in his head. She had no idea if he was hearing her, but it helped to talk to him. Helped her. His hand had slipped from her grasp and she grabbed it again, squeezing it.
“Teyla…”
“I am right here.”
“Others?”
“Carson is here as well.”
“Aye, lad,” Carson broke in. “We’ll get you home in no time. You’ll feel a quick pinch in your arm.”
Teyla watched as the doctor quickly inserted an IV needle in the crook of John’s arm, but John didn’t react to it at all. The quick pinch had to be a minor irritation compared to the rest of his injuries.
“Hurts,” he whispered.
“I know,” the doctor answered. “I’ll get you something for that in a second.”
“Ronon and Rodney went to the gate, to make sure the path was clear. We will join them soon.”
“King guy,” John muttered. “Wanted to know…black hand…”
Teyla leaned forward, brushing his hair away from his forehead. His skin was hot and two small beads of red were beginning to glow on his cheeks. “He is very warm,” she whispered to Carson. He nodded, pulling a thermometer out of his bag and sticking it in John’s ear. John flinched, turning away from him, but his movements were weak and uncoordinated.
“Told him…no black hand. Not sure…kept asking…questions…I didn’t know…”
“Sssshh,” Teyla soothed. “It is over now. You are safe from him.”
The thermometer beeped and Carson pulled it out. Teyla glanced up to catch him scowling at the read-out.
“Is it high?” she asked, although she already knew the answer. She could feel the heat emanating from John’s body.
“Guards…” John continued to mumble. “Kept hitting…side hurts…headache…”
“Too high,” Carson sighed. He tossed it back into his bag and began digging around for something else.
“Hammer time,” John muttered.
“What?” Teyla leaned forward, hearing the words but not understanding their meaning.
“Those guys,” John breathed out. “Puffy pants. Hammer time.”
“I do not understand.”
“S’okay,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “Earth thing. Dark, dark time, hammer pants.”
“Ignore him, love. I think that’s the fever talking,” Carson interjected.
John squirmed in the hay, frowning when he moved the arm with the IV. He lifted it, blinking rapidly as if he was having a difficult time focusing. Teyla sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was exhausted. John took advantage of the moment and grabbed at the IV tubing with his free hand.
“Ach, no,” Carson huffed, pulling John’s hand away. He placed two hands on John’s face and turned him until he caught the sick man’s gaze. “You can’t touch this,” he said, smiling.
John grunted, smiling back. “Hammer time.”
With a chuckle, Carson patted John’s shoulder. He pulled out a syringe and injected it into the IV, then turned to Teyla. “Keep an eye on him. I’m going to look around for a bucket and water. We need to do something about that fever.”
Teyla settled next to John, smiling slightly when he turned toward her and let his eyes drift closed. She leaned back and looked around the barn, taking in her surroundings for the first time. It was a large barn, with broken stalls on one side. Hay lay scattered all over the floor, blown around by the wind through the doors and windows. On the other side of the barn was a wide ladder leading up to a loft where most of the hay seemed to have originated. It was still piled high beneath a large window.
The sky was turning from black to gray, the first indication that dawn was on its way. They had been forced to wait until dark to rescue John, and it had taken them sometime to reach the barn, but the nights on this planet were obviously short, reminding her suddenly of Athos. She felt a pang of grief lance through her as memories of her old world rose in her mind. It had been a long time since she’d thought of Athos and all that had been lost there.
“Teyla!”
Carson’s hiss jarred her from her thoughts and she jerked her head up in surprise.
“What is it?”
“The guards-they’re coming! We’ve got to hide.”
Teyla’s mind raced as she jumped up. It had been dark when they’d ran to the barn, but she knew it sat in the middle of a large field. The nearest tree line was too far away for them to make a run for it, especially with John injured. She spun around, her eyes fastening on the ladder to the loft.
“Up there,” she whispered. “We can hide in the hay.”
They wasted no time. Between the two of them, they managed to lift John and carry him up the ladder, but they were forced to move slowly. Climbing too quickly could have easily resulted in John’s sagging weight shifting too far to the side and one of them slipping and falling.
Near the top of the ladder, Teyla climbed up onto the loft then pulled John up after her. John moaned but his eyes stayed closed, his arms and legs limp. Carson scrambled up a second later and tossed his medical bag toward the wall. Together, they shifted John as far back into the loft as possible, directly under the large square window now showing an increasingly brighter sky. There was plenty of hay to fluff up around them, so as long as the guards didn’t snoop too far, they had a chance of going undetected.
Carson leaned over the ladder and peered back down into the barn. “Dammit!”
“What is it?”
“The lantern,” he answered, swinging his legs over the side and dropping back onto the ladder. “And we left a bloody bandage down there as well.”
He climbed down before Teyla could say anything. She heard his feet hit the ground with a thud then patter across the dirt floor. The small light in the barn suddenly extinguished and she held her breath. Had the guards seen it? The lamp had not been that bright, mostly just illuminating the spot of floor where it had been set. Did the guards know they were in here or were they just making a routine sweep? She strained her ears for any sign of them outside and heard Carson making his way toward the other end of the barn instead of toward the loft.
The door flew open with a bang, and both she and John flinched. She pulled John’s head and shoulders onto her lap and leaned over him, whispering to him to lie still. Loud voices echoed up from the ground, kicking at the debris.
“Thought I saw a light in here.”
“There’s a lamp.”
“It’s hot. Someone’s here.”
“Or they were. Maybe they saw us coming and ran.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. Black Hand cowards, always running.”
John was breathing rapidly, his exhales tickling the side of her face. She reached for his hand and grabbed it, willing him to stay quiet and careful not to shift her weight. If the boards supporting them creaked at all, they would be caught easily.
“See anyone?” One of the voices called out.
Teyla closed her eyes, trying to distinguish them. At least three people had spoken, maybe more, but it was hard to tell. Only one of the voices was distinctive, a high-pitched nasally one that sounded nervous.
“No. You want to keep moving?”
“Lord Kerrig wants us to-” the nasally voice started.
“I’ll chinstrap you if you keep telling us what Lord Kerrig wants,” another voice-maybe the first voice-snarled. She heard snickers from the others, and the sound of footsteps dragging across the floor and exiting the barn.
“Garv, Nek-search this place, but do it quickly.”
Another body crossed the barn and left, and voices erupted outside, orders to search the area. Teyla was just starting to relax when she heard one of the men left to search the barn cross toward the ladder.
“I’ll start up here,” he said.
No! she thought, begging the Ancestors for a reprieve. Please do not let them find us. She heard one foot hit the ladder, then another.
Gun. Her P90 was lying next to her and she picked it up carefully. She did not want to shoot the man coming toward her, but she would defend herself and John if necessary. She would not let them take John again.
“Here, I’m here!”
Teyla froze, feeling her heart jump into her throat at the sound of Carson’s voice. What is he doing?
“Please, don’t hurt me.”
“Who are you?” one of the men yelled.
The man on the ladder jumped back to the floor, and Teyla heard someone running outside, yelling that they’d found a man.
“My name is Carson,” the doctor replied. “I was sleeping here. I have nowhere to live-I’m just passing through. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
“You Black Hand?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Black Hand?”
“I don’t know what that means. Please, I’m not from around here. I’ll keep moving. I won’t make any trouble.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Teyla kept her head down, breathing as hard as John was. She heard Carson and the other man leave the barn, and then they were alone. Slowly, she sat up and peered out the window. She had a perfect view of the farm field, mist clinging to the grass in the early morning. It would have been beautiful were it not for the group of red and purple clad soldiers pointing swords and morning star clubs at Carson. They stood in a loose circle around him, yelling at him, but they were now too far away for her to understand what was being asked and answered.
“Teyla?” John whispered.
She glanced down in surprise, not realizing he was even awake. She patted the side of his face, forcing herself to take a deep breath and trying to relay a sense of calmness to her injured friend through touch alone. She tapped her radio next, careful to keep her voice low.
“Ronon, Rodney-the guards have found the barn. They have Carson.”
“We’re coming,” came Ronon’s fast response.
She didn’t dare say more. Her heart was thrumming in her chest already. She peered out of the window again and saw that the circle around Carson had moved to one side, leaving him alone. One of the men moved forward, leaning into the doctor as he yelled.
“Help me…up,” John grunted. “What’s…happening?”
He struggled against her attempts to keep him lying down, strengthened by the IV fluid and painkillers now pumping through him. With a sigh, she hefted him up so that he could peer over the lip of the window. He began to sag almost immediately, and she shifted closer to him, propping him up and holding him steady.
The man yelling at Carson grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and forced him to his knees. She bit her lip against the gasp of panic at the scene playing out below them. Ronon and Rodney were nowhere to be seen and, she feared, too far to do anything in time. She eyed her weapon again, wondering if she was skilled enough with the P90 to shoot the guards and not kill Carson in the process.
“Gun,” John whispered, reaching a hand out blindly to his side.
“What do you intend to do?” Teyla asked, but she handed him the P90 anyway.
The man confronting Carson had stepped back and turned toward his men. One of them handed him a morning star, and he swung it around in a wide arc.
John raised the weapon, switching it to single-shot mode with a flick of his finger. His hands were shaking-his whole body was shaking-making it impossible for him to hold the gun steady. Teyla leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and laying her hands on his. Beneath both their grips, the gun steadied on the windowsill. John leaned forward, staring down the sight. Teyla moved with him, steadying his hands and arms. She could not see where he was aiming, but she trusted his skill.
She felt his arms tense beneath hers and she braced herself. A split second later, John pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded with sound. He was moving before she had a chance to look up and see if he’d hit the man with the morning star, sliding the gun across the window sill to take aim again.
The man about to kill Carson was on the ground, and Carson was crawling away from him. The guards were spinning around in confusion, screaming at the sudden turn of events. Teyla steadied John’s hands again and he fired a second time, hitting another man and spinning him around until he fell face first into the mud.
“Teyla, Carson-what’s going on?” Rodney’s voice cut across the sound of weapons fire, sounding panicked. John was still shooting, but his aim was beginning to falter.
The noise, however, seemed to be enough. Most of the guards were running back toward the trees, away from the barn. Carson had crawled another ten yards, almost out of sight from her vantage point in the barn’s loft.
“We are firing at the guards, but I do not know how long we will be able to hold them off,” she replied.
“We’re almost there,” Ronon answered.
Please hurry, she thought, but she didn’t dare say it out loud.
With a grunt, John sagged into her, almost dropping the weapon out of the window as he suddenly went limp. Teyla jerked to catch both him and the P90. She set the weapon next to her then eased John to the floor. His face was pale, and his eyes fluttering with the last of his strength.
Fear at his condition combined with fury for what the feudal guards had put them through twisted inside her gut. She climbed over John and grabbed the P90, flipping it from single-shot to full automatic. Now that Carson was safely out of the way, she was not worried about who she hit. Her main goal, though, was to scare them, despite what they had been about to do to the doctor. She leaned out the window and began shooting at the feet of the handful of guards still standing near the barn. The men jumped back in surprise, and one of them fell to the ground and grabbed his leg, writhing at the wound Teyla guessed had been caused by a bullet ricochet. The others began backpedaling, finally spotting her and pointing their swords and clubs in her direction with panicked shouts.
A red blast suddenly erupted from the other side of the barn, catching one of the men and dropping him like a stone. At the same time, the barn door below her flew open, and Rodney’s voice screamed up at her.
“Teyla!”
“Up here,” she called out. The last of the guards were running across the field, away from Ronon’s continuous blasts. She let out her breath in relief and slid down the wall to the floor.
Rodney pounded up the ladder, and Teyla looked up just as he reached top. “You okay?” he asked, breathless.
She grabbed John’s wrist, digging her fingers into his pulse point, and she was rewarded by a steady, albeit weak, beat against her fingertips and a frown as John opened his eyes and looked up at her. “We are fine,” she said, smiling as she looked up at John.
“Hurts,” John muttered. “Tired.”
“Carson?”
Rodney nodded. “He’s fine.”
She heard the doctor’s voice a second later calling up to them and Rodney glanced down the ladder. He smiled and looked back at Teyla. “See? Not hurt at all.”
“What about the path to the gate?”
“Clear,” Rodney answered. He shifted to the side as Carson climbed up beside him then clambered onto the loft. “For now, anyway. We should probably hurry.”
The barn door swung open again beneath them and Ronon’s entrance was given away by his heavy footsteps. Carson moved closer to John, feeling his pulse and tapping him on the side of the face.
“John, lad, time to go home.”
John’s eyes fluttered open as Carson and Teyla began lifting him up.
“Let’s get off this planet,” Ronon bellowed. “I’m hungry.”
“Hammer time,” John whispered, causing Carson to snort with laughter and Rodney to groan.
Teyla smiled, knowing they still had a ways to go before they were safe, but feeling the tension of the battle unwinding in her chest. She took a deep breath and stared up at the brightening sky as the last of the morning stars disappeared, feeling a calming peace return to her before she climbed down the ladder and followed her teammates.
END