Are you ready for another one?
This story is a little...strange. I was inspired to write it after watching Good Knight MacGyver. It's another trip back in time for MacGyver, this time sending him back to the Dark Ages with superstitious people believing he is a sorcerer. I just kept thinking of how they accused him of being a sorcerer in Good Knight MacGyver and I wanted to explore that a little more. This fic will get a little dark as you see what happens to him, but I think you'll enjoy it!
Supernatural Journey Part One
Rated: PG
MacGyver found himself in the middle of dense, fog-enshrouded woods, unsure of how he got there or where he was. He couldn’t even remember what had last happened to him. Looking down at his body, he didn’t notice any injuries. In fact, he felt fine, perfectly healthy. Nothing seemed to explain his arrival in this forested area. Scanning the horizon, he saw a thick meadow and a town beyond it. Strangely, the town looked primitive, with ramshackle buildings made of rotting wood and mud huts with thatched roofs. Smoke curled in the air from fires, and he could see wooden carts and livestock.
If he had been in a third world country, MacGyver knew to expect such conditions, but the chilly, humid climate of the area reminded him more of England than it did parts of Africa. Also, as he saw signs of people in the town, he noticed they were white Europeans dressed in peasant clothing. The women wore head scarves and the men wore tattered trousers and bare feet. Some carried simply woven baskets around with withered vegetables inside. Overall, they looked pale, thin, and malnourished. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“What the…?” He asked.
Approaching the town carefully, MacGyver decided to get a closer look. Something wasn’t right. As he reached the town, he hid behind one of the huts, watching the people. They spoke English, though it was poor and broken. He wasn’t sure whether to introduce himself or not. They were unlike any people he’d ever encountered before. He still wasn’t even sure where he was. Then, he saw something that angered him and made him change his mind about even trying to acquaint himself with these strange people. A young girl, perhaps not more than twelve or thirteen, lay shackled inside a wooden cage suspended in the air in a tree. She was weak and motionless, and MacGyver wondered if she was close to dying. He didn’t know what crime the girl committed, but he knew the harsh, barbaric punishment she was enduring was excessive and cruel. He couldn’t believe the inhumanity of it.
Slowly, MacGyver approached the tree, glancing around to make sure the townspeople remained engaged in their everyday lives. No one seemed to notice him, most of them keeping their eyes to the ground as if shunning the poor girl, leaving her to die. Their ignoring and neglect only worked to MacGyver’s advantage as he climbed the tree and reached the cage. The tree was massive and had wide, thick branches that could easily support his weight. He pulled himself up one of them and sat on it, pushing himself forward until he could reach the cage. He looked inside and monitored the girl. She was breathing faintly and barely conscious. She stirred when she felt his presence, her large brown eyes opening fully, staring at him, not sure whether he was a threat or not.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered gently, smiling at her. “I’ll get you out of here.”
She nodded as if she understood, and she watched as he pulled an unusual, small, and red object from seemingly nowhere, as if it materialized out of his equally strange clothing. Her eyes widened in amazement as a small blade magically appeared from the red object and he cut into the thick ropes holding the cage door closed. Once the door opened, she shrunk away from the man slightly, not sure whether she could trust him or not. All her life, she had been warned about the devil and his witches and sorcerers. Could this man be evil? Looking at his handsome features and pleasant smile, she didn’t think he was trying to harm her. He did open the door to the cage holding her, after all. Still, she shied away from him just in case.
MacGyver noticed her reaction. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m here to help you.”
She nodded, biting her lip.
MacGyver held out his hand. “Let me see your hands,” he said.
The girl slowly offered her chained hands, and watched again in fascination as he used the blade to release her from them. They fell to the floor of the cage, clinking. She looked at her now liberated wrists and rubbed them. They were sore, red, and chafed from being bound. She looked back up at MacGyver, a small smile forming on her lips and a few tears falling down her cheeks.
“Angel?” She asked him.
MacGyver raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was the first time she had spoken. Her voice was weak, and she coughed. Looking at her sallow features and her cloudy eyes, he knew she was extremely ill and in need of medical attention.
“No, I’m not an angel,” he said, winking at her. “I’m just a guy here to help you out.”
The girl looked at him, confused. He spoke strangely. “Then, if you are not an angel, who are you? Where did you come from, dear sir?” She asked.
MacGyver looked down at the town below; making sure no one had spotted him. So far, no one had noticed him, but he knew from experience that could change quickly. He looked back at the girl, who was dressed in threadbare rags that barely covered her thin body. She was trembling from the cold and shock.
“Here,” he said, removing his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders. “This will keep you warm.”
The girl stared at the strange, shiny fabric. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. She touched it and smiled, pleased by how soft it felt. Even if he wasn’t an angel, she knew he was a special force for good, sent to rescue her and deliver her from the evil that had been forced upon her. No evil spirit would behave as kindly as he was towards her. He looked at her and smiled his beautiful smile. She couldn’t explain why, but it calmed her just to look at him.
“I think it’s about time we got out of here, what do you say?” He asked.
“I…I say we must escape,” the girl said, unsure if she had answered him correctly.
“Good plan.” MacGyver looked down the tree. “Okay, it isn’t going to be easy,” he said. “I need you to climb down this tree with me. Can you do it?”
The girl nodded.
“All right, good. I’ll head down first, and you follow me. That way, I can support you if you slip or start falling. Okay?”
“O-kay?” The girl asked, confused by the word.
MacGyver laughed slightly. “Uh, it means…you’ll be fine,” he said.
“I understand,” the girl said, smiling.
“Good. Now, follow me slowly down the tree.”
The girl nodded and watched as MacGyver climbed down the tree. As soon as she had room, she also began climbing down the tree. Her hands trembled and ached, and her whole body felt light and weak, but she managed to hold on, desperate to be free of the cage that held her for so long. She could feel the man’s strong, large hands gently bracing her, holding onto her legs. His hands were rough, warm, and comforting, reminding her of her grandfather’s.
“Are you doing okay?” MacGyver asked, looking up at her.
“Yes, o-kay,” the girl said, finally grasping the meaning of the man’s strange word.
MacGyver grinned and they continued down the tree. Once they had reached the bottom, MacGyver gently helped her to the ground. She embraced him and sobbed, throwing him off balance for a second. He stroked her dirty brown hair, soothing her.
“I know,” he said. “It’s over now.”
She looked up at him, wiping away her tears, trying to appear brave. “Many thanks,” she said.
“Hey! You, there! What is it you think you are doing? Stop!” A man from the village shouted, approaching them and pointing a bony, accusatory finger at MacGyver.
“We must run!” The girl screamed, taking his hand.
Using strength MacGyver didn’t know she had, the girl pulled MacGyver along, running from an emerging group of angry villagers who were pursuing them into the woods.
“What’s going on?” MacGyver asked.
“We must run! They will kill you!” The girl said between breaths.
“Why? Because I set you free?” MacGyver asked, also becoming out of breath from running.
“That, but also because of what you are!”
“What do you mean?”
“Whether you are an agent for good or evil, you are a sorcerer with great magic powers! They will kill you for this!”
As they ran, MacGyver glanced back at the angry mob of peasants and finally realized what was happening. He wasn’t in his own time. Something had happened to send him back to medieval, superstitious Europe, and his only possible escape at the moment was to run, just as the girl said.
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
