Weardians and Witans Read online

  Author's notes: This story is a part of my The Sentinel/MacGyver series, set in time between The Road Not Taken and The Haunting of Christmas Past. Since the relationships between Blair, MacGyver, and Sam are drawn in the first five stories (The Maze, Control, Coatlicue, Ares Bugle, and Heirs to a Nightmare), you may wish to read them first.

  In The Sentinel universe, this story takes place hours after the last scene in 'The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg'. This is my stepping stone into the life of the characters after the series.

  This story is also crossed with Stargate SG-1, which initially airs on Showtime before going into reruns on other stations. I have set this story between the second and third season, since I have yet to see a third season episode. (Can't afford a movie channel for just one show, even if it does star my favorite actor!)

  As always, I do wish to extend my thanks to many people: Shallan, for all her great help with the military portions of this story (of course, anything I get wrong is my fault!) and with a quick beta job. Sealie, for the use of her terms, 'Weardian' and 'Witan', which she introduced in her great TS/Poltergist:The Legacy story, Our Unconquerable Souls. She was also great source for the Celtic/Gaelic portions of the story. Susan, for beta'ing. Zadra, for keeping me on track with the SG-1 trivia. Malu, for a great betaing job (even more impressive when you consider English is her second language) and who is the best cheerleader a writer could have. And of course Wolfpup, who both keeps my grammar in line and posts my stories!

  I must apologize to all my fans out there. I never expected to take so long with this story. The concept and many of the scenes have been floating in my mind since rumors of how The Sentinel would end its run began circulating last March, over a year ago now. However, I had major writer's burnout from my last Roachia story(Under the Cover of Darkness), and it took a while for me to get back into the groove again. Also, my numerous duties with Black Panther Productions' Cascade Virtual Tales took up much more of my time than I expected. Please go check out our 5th TS Virtual season there are many wonderful stories by very talented writers, edited by great people, mixed with truly creative commercials, all artistically organized and presented on our website. I am quite proud of the entire season and the crew who made it possible.

  Please send any comments to [email protected]

  Enjoy the ride.

  Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food.

  Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.

  Rated PG-13, mostly for language. Jack honestly speaks that way

  WEARDIANS AND WITANS

  C.L. Combs

  Prologue

  Colonel Jack O'Neill was never sure what to expect when stepping out of a stargate. The system that provided travel to anywhere in the galaxy allowed for all sorts of scenarios. It could be a forest or a desert, inhabited or desolate, peaceful or in the middle of a battle. The natives could be friendly, could be suspicious, could want to kill them on sight. But they needed to find ways to combat the alien Goa'uld before they tried to enslave Earth again, so it was a necessary risk. It certainly made life interesting though.

  As usual, the momentum from traveling through the gate propelled O'Neill out of the ring of fluid light and a few steps onto the stone platform. He was already scoping out the terrain as the rest of his team, SG-1, arrived out of the gate. While Captain Samantha Carter and Teal'c also looked for possible danger in the surrounding forest, their archeologist, Dr. Daniel Jackson, searched for any signs of artifacts.

  "Colonel O'Neill!" Teal'c pointed at a rustle in the brush.

  It was gone almost before Jack could turn to look. "What was that?"

  "It was two human children," Teal'c replied.

  "Then I guess we don't have to worry about announcing ourselves," O'Neill sighed.

  "This is so neat," Daniel exclaimed, paying no attention to his colleagues. He was down on his knees, examining the engraved designs in the nearby stones.

  "What did you find?" Carter asked as she knelt next to him.

  "Doesn't this look like a wolf to you?" Daniel pointed. "And this writing looks like q-Celtic, possibly Goidelic."

  "Can you read it?" O'Neill interrupted, still scanning the surrounding forest for their welcoming committee.

  "I'm not sure how close this is to the modern Gaelic I know, but I think it says..."

  "O'Neill!" Teal'c called out.

  Ten husky men, dressed in a mix of leather and homespun clothing, stepped out from the woods carrying weapons. "Kids," O'Neill softly called to the rest of his team, "Recess is over. I suggest you start paying attention." Carter and Jackson slowly stood up.

  A tall man leading the group stared at each member of the team. He paused briefly on Carter, puzzled. Then he turned to point at Teal'c, calling out something. Instantly, all the weapons were trained on the Jaffa, ends glowing eerily similar to the Jaffa's staffs.

  Eyes wide, Daniel jumped in front of Teal'c, jabbering in a language O'Neill didn't understand. The rest of SG-1 held their breaths as the natives first looked puzzled, then slowly lowered their weapons. A shorter man, brown hair mixed with gray, stepped out and asked Daniel a question, or at least what sounded like a question to O'Neill. Daniel waved his hands and continued to converse in the foreign language, pointing at Teal'c, then O'Neill and Carter.

  Finally, the conversation slowed, and Daniel turned back to his team. "Well, I think I took care of that problem."

  "WHAT problem?" O'Neill asked, slightly miffed since he didn't have a clue what was going on.

  "They were ready to kill Teal'c since he's a Jaffa, but I think I convinced them that he's a GOOD Jaffa."

  O'Neill shook his head. "We really need to get you a sign, Teal'c."

  "Sign?" the Jaffa asked, confused.

  "The one that proclaims you're with us and not the Goa'uld," O'Neill explained. Then he turned back to Daniel. "I take it you understand them?"

  "Well, I think their language does stem from q-Celtic, which is what Gaelic stems from, but of course it has followed a different path than Earth's modern Gaelic, so there are some differences..."

  "Daniel," O'Neill growled impatiently. He slowly enunciated, "Can you understand them?"

  Daniel pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "I can't say I understood everything their wise man said, but I think I caught most of it."

  "How did they know that we weren't Jaffa or Goa'uld?" Carter asked, watching the natives talking among themselves.

  "Apparently, their Weardian could smell the infant Goa'uld inside Teal'c."

  "The who could smell what?" O'Neill asked, startled.

  Before Daniel could answer, the older native walked forward and spoke again. Daniel quickly replied, then turned to O'Neill. "Jack, the wise man wishes to offer the hospitality of his village and to speak with the warrior leader from the old world."

  O'Neill gave the man what he hoped was a friendly smile. "I don't like this, Danny." He wasn't sure he trusted this group enough to leave the relative safety of the gate.

  "Yeah, but how else are we going to find out how they could smell Teal'c's Goa'uld?"

  Conceding the point with a nod, O'Neill shifted his weapon onto his shoulder. "Then tell him we'd be honored."

  Half an hour later, O'Neill found himself in a stone house, sitting on a padded wooden chair while facing a group of elders with a mug of something like beer in his hand. Daniel was busy translating t
he introductions. After carefully pronouncing the names of Jack and the rest of the team and their role, he then translated for Jack. "This is their chieftain, Erwyn." Jack nodded to the huge man Daniel indicated. "His elder/advisor, Brit." Brit was a tiny, wrinkled woman comfortably seated next to the fireplace. Yet O'Neill noticed her eyes were bright and alert. "The wise one, Botolf," Jack nodded to the man they had met before. "And his weardian, Marston."

  Jack nodded to the man who had earlier pointed out Teal'c, carefully asking, "His who?"

  Daniel looked puzzled. "I'm not quite sure. It roughly translates into 'guardian'. I get the impression that he's guardian of the entire village, yet Botolf sounds like there's this connection between just the two of them. For that matter, I'm not sure if 'wise one' is the correct translation of Botolf's title of witan, either. It could also be 'guide', but that doesn't make much sense."

  Mentally shrugging, O'Neill noticed the puzzled looks exchanged between the leaders. "We'll worry about that later. I think the natives are getting restless."

  Two hours later, Daniel had provided a quick background of the Earth's history with the Goa'uld, then translated the planet's history for Jack. "They were brought here long ago from the old world to this place by the ones whose eyes glow. While they were forced to work in the Glowing Eye's mines for several generations as slaves, the warrior blood had not been driven from them. The gods blessed them when a weardian was born, whose special talents stretched past their captors and allowed him and his witan to form a plan. Together with the clans, they drove out the Glowing Eyes and their pouched ones, using weapons created by their craftmen in secret from scavenged Jaffa's staffs. Since then, the tribes have thrived on the land and have slowly gained knowledge and technology."

  "How many humans are on this planet?" Carter asked.

  After several minutes of conversation, Daniel translated, "Erwyn says nearly a thousand villages are scattered around, with between a hundred up to a thousand in each." The rest of the team looked impressed for a moment.

  "Do they routinely guard the gate?" O'Neill asked.

  "Yes. It's tradition that at least one Weardian and Witan pair stays close to the gate, to protect this world and send out an alarm if fighting men are required."

  "Weirdos and Witless?" Jack questioned.

  Carter shot the Colonel an outraged look while Daniel rolled his eyes and corrected, "Weardians and Witans. Apparently, they come in pairs."

  "I want more information on these," Jack paused, trying to make sure he had the pronunciation right. "Weardians and Witans."

  Daniel conversed with Botolf for quite a while before translating. "Okay, we're really hitting the language barrier here, but I think I have it now. Apparently, Weardians are gifted at birth with all five senses heightened well beyond a normal person's. That was how Marston could pick out Teal'c. He could smell the infant Goa'uld inside him. He even could tell that Carter had been 'touched' by one, but is not now a Goa'uld."

  O'Neill was surprised at the information. "You mean, like a bloodhound?" Daniel nodded. "And all the rest of his senses are heightened too? Like seeing farther, hearing, taste, the whole nine yards?" Daniel nodded again. Jack paused a moment in thought. "Okay, then, what does the Witan do?"

  "Again, I'm not sure I fully understand it, but Botolf says that his role is to ground the Weardian. Apparently, Weardians can become 'lost' if they focus too much on one sense. The Witan also protects the Weardian while the Weardian protects the village." Daniel paused, listening to Botolf some more. "But Botolf says he is confused. These abilities are said to have been on the old world as well. He doesn't understand how we could not already know this if we are from there, or why we don't have weardians and witans ourselves."

  O'Neill gave the man a sad smile. "Tell him that we on Earth are far removed from our roots. We have lost much of the ancient knowledge." Then a thought struck him. "Daniel, do you think there just might be some of these 'Weardians' running around Earth now? They could be a big help if they could also smell out Goa'ulds."

  Daniel turned thoughtful for a moment. "You know, there could be. It's well known that some people have a better sense of smell or taste than other people. I could research the topic when we get back."

  "Sounds like a plan. Now let's continue to get to know our new allies, shall we?"

  Three weeks later, Cascade, WA

  For the first time since the reporters had mobbed Jim's truck outside the loft, Blair Sandburg felt like his life was falling back into place. Stepping into his Volvo after dropping his mother off at the airport, he reflected on the changes in the past twenty-four hours.

  After the University had predictably dumped him when he announced that his Sentinel research was a hoax, Blair had figured Captain Simon Banks and the Cascade PD would do the same. Without the cover of doing research, there was no reason for Blair to continue being an 'observer'. He had been willing to accept it. If that was the price he had to pay for not protecting his sentinel's secret better, so be it. Anything was worth protecting Jim Ellison's life and allowing the special man to use his senses without feeling like 'a freak'. However, that didn't mean the rejection from the two most important institutions of his life didn't hurt.

  Yet the men and women of Major Crimes had surprised him. When he had gone there to clear out his stuff, they had gathered to meet him. Even Simon, who really should have still been in the hospital, was there. Even more surprising was to find his mother, Naomi, with them, her smile just as bright as the others. They presented him a badge, his own badge, saying that he could become a detective as soon as he completed the Academy and weapons training. To have Simon, Megan, Taggart, Brown, Rafe, and all the others there smiling at him was an image Blair wanted to keep for the rest of his life. He could still feel the warm glow of belonging. But the best part was that, in spite of everything, Jim still wanted him as a partner.

  While he still had a lot of 'processing' to do over the loss of his Ph.D., not to mention the thought of carrying a gun, Blair could sense this was the right path. Now he could devote all his time to guarding his sentinel's back instead of only when the University didn't required him. Jim's abilities were vital in protecting their city and Blair was eager to do his part in keeping their 'tribe' safe.

  Pulling into his parking space behind the building where he lived, Blair turned off the engine then stepped out. He twisted around to pull back the seat. Grabbing a box of files from his office, he placed the folder of forms he needed to fill out for his new job on top. Blair then slammed the door of his Volvo shut with a kick and began hauling his first load to the loft. He was too busy trying to see where he was going to notice the three men in suits step out of a dark van behind him.

  "Mr. Sandburg!"

  Blair turned, barely able to see over the box in his hands. "Yes?"

  "We'd like to have a word with you."

  Noticing the tall men who looked like they had just stepped out of the movie 'Men in Black', Blair felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. Every paranoid instinct his mother had ingrained in him about the government flooded his mind. "What about?"

  "Your future," the middle one replied.

  "My immediate future consists of carrying this box up to my place." Blair turned towards the stairs. "After that, it's none of your concern."

  "What if we told you that sentinels do exist in modern times?"

  Fear now joined the paranoia churning in his stomach. Schooling his face, he took a deep breath and turned back. "I have already told Cascade and the world that my work was fraudulent."

  "What if we helped you find real sentinels to continue your work?"

  Blair felt his blood run cold. Oh man, do they know Jim's the real thing? "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

  "But Mr. Sandburg, we can offer you a job, a salary. Do you honestly think anyone will hire you after this?"

  "I've already had job offers this week," Blair informed them coldly. Thank you, Phoenix and Major Crimes. "Jobs that are much more app
ealing than working for black suits. So, if you'll excuse me, this box is getting heavy." Blair turned around and marched forcefully towards his building, ignoring the calls of 'Mr. Sandburg' behind him. Practically holding his breath, he didn't really breathe until he was in the elevator. Once to his floor, he nearly ran to the door, keys held precariously in his right hand against the box. It wasn't until he had awkwardly opened it, rushed in, then slammed and locked the door behind him, that Blair felt even remotely safe.

  Still cold from the fear surging through his blood, he took another deep breath. Oh God, the government is on to us. Now what am I going to do? His guide instinct kicked in. Before he even understood his actions, Blair found the loft phone in his hand, ringing his sentinel's cell.

  "Ellison," the voice at the other end barked.

  "Jim," Blair answered, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. "I think we're in trouble."

  At his desk in the Major Crime bullpen, Jim immediately straightened. He could almost feel the fear radiating from his friend across the connection. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay." Jim was not reassured by the wobbly voice. "I was just met outside the loft by three spooky guys in dark suits and sunglasses."

  Jim closed his eyes, trying to maintain his calm against all the fearsome possibilities Blair's words aroused in him. "What did they want?"

  "Something about there really being sentinels and offering me a job to help search for them."

  "Damn," Jim muttered, rubbing his face as thousands of questions raced through his mind. "What did you say?"

  "That I already had job offers and wasn't interested. But they were scary, man. I don't know if they'll let it go or not."

  Pausing to steady himself, Jim opened his eyes to spot the picture on his desk. It was of Blair and himself, taken by Blair's half brother at his cabin. Sam. MacGyver, of course! "I think it's time to check out Phoenix."

  Blair dropped onto the nearby chair in relief. The Phoenix Foundation was where MacGyver worked. Just the thought of his laid-back father began to calm his nerves. Surely if anyone knew how to handle spooks, it would be the former DXS agent. "Sounds like a real good idea, man."