[On a bleak hillside, the ruin of an ancient STONE TEMPLE stands testament to the grace of a vanished people. Inhabited now only by bird-cries and the lonely wind that blows through it -- or so it seems. Then, standing in the shadow of a ruined archway we see--]

[A MAN, motionless as an effigy carved from stone, leaning silently on a wooden staff. A sentinel. Coarse robes proclaim him a member of some obscure Christian Order. His ancient face, lined by the elements, is as severe as the stone he watches over. He stirs alertly as a lone figure approaches him:]

[A YOUNG ACOLYTE in the same robes, toiling toward him with a woven BASKET. Reaching the old monk, the Acolyte bows respectfully.]

ACOLYTE - It's a long walk.

MONK - [motions him to follow] Toil is good for the soul.

[They move to another area of the temple, where they reach -- A WELL set into the stone. Mossy with age, the opening is blocked by an ancient, heavily built GRATING of thick metal bars. There is a small space in them, but a massive metal BOLT ensures the grate will never open. Beyond the grate, a black recess stretches deep into the earth.]

[The Monk nods to the Acolyte. The lad lifts the basket, filled with grapes, a few figs, some bread -- but he hesitates. It seems such a waste of good food.]

ACOLYTE - I thought it was a sin to waste food.

MONK - It is only a waste to you.

[The Monk motions him severely to continue. The Acolyte shrugs and carries out a ritual: keeping his distance, he carefully dumps the contents of the basket through the grate, into the well. The food drops into the darkness. Finished, the Acolyte collects the basket and they move away from the well.]

ACOLYTE - And why watch an empty pile of rocks? It's been sealed for centuries.

MONK - [curt] Is there no end to it? [beat] It was sealed for a good reason.

ACOLYTE - By pagans.

MONK - [grabs his arm, glares at him] We do not question the rules of the Order! We obey them, as we have obeyed them since the beginning! [beat] The ancients were pagans, but they were not fools.

[He grabs the empty basket and limps away. The Acolyte shakes his head, bemused, and settles down to stand his watch. He takes a cluster of grapes from his robe, but as he begins to eat them -- he hears a sound.]

CHILD'S VOICE (O.S.) - [very faint] Help...

[The Acolyte pauses, doubting his ears -- was it a voice, or just the wind? Then it comes again.]

CHILD'S VOICE (O.S.) - [CONT'D] Please... someone help me.

[The Acolyte is certain now: it's the voice of a child. He scans the ruins, looking for the source.

CHILD'S VOICE (O.S.) - [CONT'D] Please help me. It's dark!

[No doubt now: it's coming from INSIDE the well. The Acolyte moves toward it, eyes wide in disbelief.

CHILD'S VOICE (O.S.) - [CONT'D] I fell... I think my leg is broken.

[The voice is pitiful, a frightened child in distress. The Acolyte wavers, recalling the monk's warning -- but this is a child. He tugs at the heavy grate, but the massive BOLT won't budge.]

CHILD'S VOICE (O.S.) - [CONT'D] [a whimper] Help me, please, I'm afraid!

[Crying now. Pitiful, wracking sobs. More determined than ever, the Acolyte picks up a large rock from the ground and strikes at the bolt. Once... twice... on the third blow it comes loose. The Acolyte drops the rock and shoves the bolt free. He lifts the heavy grate and shoves it aside, then stretches his hand down into the darkness.]

ACOLYTE - Reach up... take my hand!

[He waits for the child's hand to grasp his -- then his expression changes. The hand that grips his is hard, muscular, with a grip like steel.]

[The Acolyte struggles to pull free, but he's dragged relentlessly towards the opening. His head thumps into the side of the well. The Acolyte stumbles back, sprawls to the ground.]

[ON THE ACOLYTE lying in the dirt, dazed. He looks up to see -- ACOLYTE'S POV -- the creature that struck him: it is a man. Big, dirty, with wild matted hair, a naked back: this is KRONOS, entombed for a thousand years and he looks like it.]

[Kronos gazes down at the Acolyte and smiles at his fear and confusion. He moves his lips oddly and a voice comes out:]

KRONOS - [a child's voice, mocking] Help me, please... I'm afraid!

[The child's voice, coming from this huge, frightening face. The Acolyte crosses himself in fear.]

ACOLYTE - God protect me!

KRONOS - [reaches down, hauls the Acolyte to his feet] What gods do you call on, boy?

ACOLYTE - Our Holy Savior... the King of Kings.

KRONOS - [thinks a BEAT, searching his memory] Never heard of him.

[He lifts the Acolyte and tosses him down a nearby hill. Kronos flexes his arms, enjoying the feel of muscles long disused, like a pianist warming up after a long absence.]

KRONOS - It's good to be back.

[FADE OUT.

[END OF TEASER]
 

 
MacLEOD - It's a game show.
 

 
METHOS - [beat] Very funny, MacLeod.
 

 
KOREN/KRONOS - Then what? A judge in fancy robes? A lawyer in a nice suit? [beat] Maybe a fair trial.

MACLEOD - Maybe just a rope and a funeral.

KOREN/KRONOS - I don't think so.
 

 
[We see older CROSSES with scrawled messages on them:

LYLE LEVITT: CARD CHEETER AND THIEF.
HENRY BLAGGET: GOAT DEFILER.
CHIP MORGAN: JUST TOO SLOW.

Then, stopping on a newly erected cross:
MELVIN KOREN. 1867. BETTER THAN HE DESERVED.]
 

 
CASSANDRA - It was before science or reason. When there was a young world waiting to be discovered and understood... or feared. [beat] Life was hard. A sickness, a broken bone could mean death. The greatest gift was the skill to heal.
 

 
CASSANDRA - [V.O.] Hijad schooled me in the healing arts until I knew all his secrets. [beat] Or I thought I did.
 

 
HIJAD - He believes the spell will help. So, it will help. [beat] Do not worry...
 

 
[Cassandra mixes herbs as Hijad looks on.]

CASSANDRA - [V.O.] When I had been found, some of our tribe had wanted to leave me. Hijad told them I was a gift from the desert... and one did not refuse such gifts. He saw things that others could not see. [beat] He could not foresee what was to happen.
 

 
CASSANDRA - [V.O.] Everyone knew of the Four Horsemen. The destroyers. The ones who lay waste. [beat] Across the world we knew, people lived in terror of them. Where they rode, whole villages were destroyed... or simply vanished. They were without mercy, without fear.
 

 
[Cassandra turns to the tent, quickly drags out a worked METAL CASKET. She throws it before Kronos.]

CASSANDRA - Take it. [beat] Gold, jewels, spices... Take them and leave us in peace!

KRONOS - [a command] More.

HIJAD - This is all we have, I swear!

[Kronos raises his mask. Under it, his face is weirdly painted -- it is as frightening as the mask.]

KRONOS - Then kill them. [beat] Kill them all.
 

 
KRONOS - Since you asked? [plants his BOOT on Methos' chest and pushes hard] I think you could use a little pain, brother. I think it's just what you need.

[He pushes hard to make his point, then lifts his foot. Methos sits up, gasping.]

KRONOS - There was a time you'd bounce right up, asking for more. You're getting soft.

METHOS - [pushes gingerly to his feet] Not soft, Kronos. I just passed through my angry adolescence a little earlier than you.
 

 
METHOS - Caspian keeps the heads. He thinks it makes him smarter. [frowns] So far it hasn't worked.
 

 
METHOS - [approving] Maybe you're clever enough to stay alive after all.
 

 
MACLEOD - It keeps him alive. [beat] Joe, she swears it was him.
 

 
KRONOS - ...country by country, city by city...
 

 
MACLEOD - Everything but your head.