by Henry Wyckoff
Crossover: XF, DW (4th Doctor), HL, ST:Voy, and the world of
Duncan watched the truck speed away, knowing that he wasn't
going to hop on. Jan and Methos had fallen on their faces,
unwilling to accept the fact that they were both still quite
wounded and had been alive again for only five minutes so far.
"Here," he panted, pulling Methos to his feet.
"We're losing him!" coughed Jan. "Damn it!"
"He's being taken care of!" snapped Duncan in return. They
slowly trudged back to the house. "Besides, what the hell
could you have done? You can't even walk on your own!"
Both knew he was right. Still, they couldn't help but feel
As they reached the house, the noticed that something
strange was going on. Chakotay was flat on the ground,
unmoving. Janeway was slumped against a tree, blood all
over the front of her uniform.
What was even more amazing was that Chuck was alive, and
talking with Zedar. It was a relaxed conversation.
The three immortals looked at one another, "What's going
Duncan's impulse was to charge up and demand an answer, but
Methos had some more smarts. "Hold it. Let's sneak up and
see if they'll offer us anything without us having to ask.
I've always had a strange feeling about that man, but not
Jan and Duncan nodded. "You lead."
It wasn't all that hard to sneak up, since Zedar couldn't
appear to sense immortals, and Chuck surely wasn't one, even
though he had inexplicably come back from the dead. On
closer inspection, however, they couldn't see any blood
splatters on him. Methos would have spoken aloud his
confusion by reflex, but he remembered to put a clamp on his
They were close enough to hear both men talk, and stayed at
that distance. The trees hid them well, and the wind blew
Chuck spoke, "If you don't call it magic, what do you call
Zedar nodded. "It's an intelligent question. Magic is
technically what carnival tricksters use. Slight-of-hand,
illusion, and similar names describe magic very well. Magic
is real as the ground you walk on, and its mechanisms are
just as real. You use your hands to fool the eyes of
"Sorcery, on the other hand, is what I call what I do. It
is distinguishable from magic in the sense that you're
manipulating real things without your hands. But don't get
me wrong. There's nothing supernatural about it. Belgarath
calls it 'the Will and the Word', and he's on the right
track, but there's more. I never told another soul, but I
call it 'the Binding of Three into One': the binding of
word, will, and deed into a much stronger rope than each
Chuck held up his hand sharply, looking down in thought.
"Three into one... That sounds like something the Tibetan
said. It's a Buddhist concept. In Japan, a priest I knew
called it 'Mikkyo'. He never told me much about it, just
like he never explained what 'kuji-kiri' was. He did
mention that Mikkyo was 'the binding of three into one' and
he did mention 'thought, word, and deed'. It sounds like
your philosophy is parallel to his, but he never claimed to
be a sorcerer."
Zedar closed his eyes, "If he is a priest, as is the Dark
Monk, then I am not surprised. Priests were never ones to be
Sorcerers. It wasn't their job."
"OK... So why don't you explain yourself?"
"Why don't I explain as you try it? First, however, is a
rule that you must never break under any circumstances. Do
not unmake anything. Ever. To unmake something, to will it
to be not, is to invite your own destruction. Cthuchik
killed himself when he willed the Orb to be not. His great
power rebounded on him, which was how Belgarath was able to
recover the Orb and crown Belgarion king."
"You're losing me, Zedar." Chuck sounded like he was about
ready to crack the man's skull.
"You'll understand soon enough. Lift that rock." He
pointed to a spherical rock about three feet across, one
that would most likely be too heavy to lift.
"Sure." Chuck walked over, and with a loud yell, lifted it.
His neck muscles were strained to the limit, each strand
visible, and his face had turned red within a second, but he
held it for a good five seconds before dropping it.
"Now, do it without your hands." Zedar was expressionless.
"Yeah! Let's see you do it!"
Zedar didn't do anything, except whisper a word, and the
rock lifted slowly and clearly into the air. He looked a
little strained, but not as much as Chuck, when he said,
"Now, lift the rock." The rock gently descended to the
"How?" Chuck looked shocked.
"Look at it. Your Will is that the rock will float two feet
above the ground. That image is in your mind. Think of it
as an imperative, however, and not a wish. Wishes are
wishes, but imperatives become reality. The Deed is the
hand that you rarely move or use. If you but only reach out
with that hand and grasp it, it will lift. The Word is your
verbal command, binding your intention into a reality."
Chuck felt that hand. He recalled a time when he sat on a
wall, killing time. The Dark Monk was lecturing other monks
on the use of the 'vital energy', and Chuck played around
"Place your hands together, and then hold them apart
about a hand's width. Hold them there. Breathe, and
allow your feelings to take hold. Do you not notice
that you can feel the life force emanating from each
hand? Move them slightly together and apart, and you
can feel that force moving through your hand. You are
novices, and you can feel it already. Imagine what can
happen if you become adepts!"
Chuck had felt the force too. For years, when he was really
bored, he'd play with it, and he noticed that after a while,
the force expanded. By merely breathing, the force would
actually push his own hands apart. But that's all this
force was: an interesting puzzle that didn't do anything.
Until now. Playing with the force allowed him to conceive
of a hand that wasn't physical. It felt like his nervous
system were wielding solid arms and hands that he didn't
see. It was real.
The Deed was manifest. The Will was manifest. The Word was
The three were bound into one.
The rock rose into the air. He held it, feeling as if he
were lifting a much heavier rock in his hands.
"Aaauugh!" The rock fell to the ground, and then Chuck did.
He was passed out from exhaustion.
Zedar looked over him, smiling. "Not bad, for a first day."
Methos, Jan, and Duncan looked at one another in total
shock. They'd each seen their share of magicians, but never
sorcerers like this.
A realization came over Methos then, and he stood up,
walking over to Zedar. "You know, if you'd only talk to
James Randi, he'd hand over the prize he's been talking
about for years."
Zedar turned around, his eyebrows rising, "Oh?"
"He's offering fifty thousand dollars to anyone who can
provide genuine proof of magical powers. I think that's
Zedar shrugged. "I don't care about money."
"I didn't think you would. Would you care to explain why
you're teaching the enemy?"
"He may or may not be an enemy," he looked at Chuck, still
unmoving, and breathing lightly, "but that is not important.
He is a sorcerer, whether he believes it or not, and all
sorcerers must learn the basic rules. That is our one
obligation: we either kill them or teach them. There is
nothing more dangerous than an untrained sorcerer."
* * * *
At this moment, Thanatos was focusing on the woman driving
the car. "They're still following us! If you do not lose
them, I'll make you beg for death!"
She was beyond tears now, the fear had gripped her for so
long. "I CAN'T lose them!"
Thanatos was about to backhand her, but the dry and
disembodied voice he knew so well spoke rather firmly.
"Leave her alone. It won't help your cause if you hurt her
at this moment. If you want to beat her black and blue,
kill her, rape her, or whatever else you feel like, there's
an appropriate time. This is not one of them."
Thanatos froze in mid-swing, his eyes widened, "The Voice of
God!" Then his eyes narrowed, "But why would the Voice of
God tell me not to do this thing? She refuses to lose these
pursuers, so she should be punished for her refusal!"
The voice couldn't have cared less, "That's not any of my
concern. Your completion of your own task is my gravest
"Then may you not smite down your enemies?"
"I already told you: that's not one of the rules. I can't
directly interfere, nor can my enemy, or else we might risk
cancellation of everything in existence, known or not known.
That's why I have given my gift to people like you. Are you
somehow telling me that you can't do the work for which you
are being handsomely paid?"
"Surely there's something you can do?" he asked in a weak
voice. "Surely the Voice of the Almighty God is not just a
"You're riding in this car, aren't you? You got away from
the police car, and you didn't get killed back in the
Addict's house. Isn't that enough?"
"How can you expect me to carry the seven weights of the
world on my shoulders without so much as a pad of leather to
keep my poor shoulders from aching?" he asked plaintively.
The voice didn't answer, but the driver's expression of
total confusion and fear spoke volumes. He snapped at her,
"Don't you know it's impolite to eavesdrop on conversations
with God? Drive!"
* * * *
Sarah was confused, "Why would this anti-man want to come
into contact with anyone? Wouldn't he be destroyed?"
He nodded, "Under normal conditions, that would be correct.
There are ways, however in which antimatter can exist in a
matter matrix. Anti-hydrogen is collected in magnetic
traps, for instance."
"But anti-hydrogen isn't the same!"
"But why did he want that something from you, whatever it
He was thoughtful for a moment, "It's all coming up to
this... conjunction of forces. The Master hinted of it
once, I think -- I might be stretching hints too far -- but
he believed that there would be a conjunction of forces.
Which forces, I don't know for sure. I don't think this is
a polar 'light' versus 'darkness'. I mean, think about it:
when has anyone we've ever met in this mess ever behaved in
a purely light or dark manner? When has anyone been truly
light or dark?"
Sarah thought about it. "I don't know. Nobody's perfect."
"Exactly! So what we're seeing is a battle of forces, and
not ideologies. There's some object, or power, or some
'thing' that someone wants."
"Do you think that Powys is one of these forces?"
He thought about it, and didn't skip a beat when he had to
keep from hitting some kids who were too confused to know
what to do, as a whole posse ran through their playground.
"I think that he's a representative. If anyone is a force,
in this respect, I would say it's the assassin who took you
from the Voyager to this place, and perhaps the FBI agent,
Sarah looked confused, "Why them?"
"Let's just say they have a certain feel about them that
could be mistaken for charisma. That's the best I can
explain it, if you're not endowed with a telepathic sense of
personal fields. The key words here are 'mistaken for
charisma'. What is truly at work here is very subtle."
"Do you think the Master is behind this?"
"No." He was certain. "It doesn't have his touch. Perhaps
he might take advantage of what occurs here, but this isn't
of his creation."
The car chase came to an abrupt halt. They had run through
residential neighborhoods that had probably never seen any
excitement greater than watching concrete settle (never mind
the drive-by gang shootings), and across the occasional
major street. Somehow, they made their way back into the
University neighborhood, and shot into the University
What had been just a simple run through the streets could
now be visualized as a column of dogs running through a
flock of half-aware pigeons in a park. These pigeons were
students milling through the streets, dazed and confused to
begin with -- after all, here they were, walking on a paved
street designed for motor vehicles, and here this pack of
cars came, speeding at over a hundred miles an hour.
A few of the slower students failed to move out of the way
in time, and landed in assorted places out of the way. Most
were still alive, but were in pain. Many were severely
The woman driving the convertible was screaming
incoherently. Perhaps she even saw the faces of everyone she
hit, but she also saw the knife that would be used on her if
she failed to obey.
She had been lucky up til now, but this time, her luck ran
out. A ditch snuck up on her, and so the car slammed into a
pit that didn't have the proper barricades. An air bag
saved her from death, but the killer wasn't so lucky.
Thanatos was thrown through the air, his legs breaking the
windshield, and landed on the asphalt on the other side of
the pit. As he slid along the asphalt, his flesh was sanded
The cars following her came to an abrupt stop, screeching
loudly and burning the tires.
Silk was the first one to reach the car, and he asked the
woman, now collapsed in hysterical tears, "Did he hurt you?"
"No," she sobbed, hugging the steering wheel.
He nodded, and ran to the Dagashi, who was slowly getting to
his feet. He had no reason to be standing, but he was.
Blood flowed from the numerous scrapes, and his eyes were
narrowed as he hissed in agony.
Silk ended it pretty quickly. All it took was a solid kick
to the groin, and the Dagashi sank to the ground... after he
sailed for a bit in the air. "You have a lot to pay for."
* * * *