Date: Fri, 7 Oct 1994 18:11:22 +0100 Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: MB Overton Subject: "End of the Road" Part 1 Be gentle with this, 'cos it's a first attempt at Highlander fiction. Helpful comments would be appreciated, because I've no idea how it ends yet. Part 2 will follow some time next week, with a bit of luck. PS : This takes place just after the second episode of season two ("Studies in Light", for the newbies). HIGHLANDER "END OF THE ROAD" Part 1 of ?? The sense of presence came to Duncan Macleod before he'd got anywhere near the antiques shop, it was so strong. The coiled tightly restrained presence of an immortal, like a spring crushed between two metal plates, always ready to spring and be free, as a Quickening did when a head rolled bloodily across the ground. Recently an image of his own head breaking free had been tormenting him in his dreams, and Macleod could think of at least two times in his varied life when he'd been in the midst of a culture that believed dreams prophesied the future. "Mac?" The voice jolted him into sudden reality. "What?" "Why've we stopped?" Duncan looked around and realised that, quite without conscious thought, he'd smoothly pulled the old 1950s Thunderbird into the kerb. It was half past ten at night, and nobody was around in the cool night air of the street, fitfully illuminated by half a dozen lamp-posts and a few brave shopowners who hadn't put six-inch thick iron guards over their shop windows. They were still three blocks away from his antiques shop. "It's another immortal, isn't it?" Tessa Noel, his long-time partner, asked questioningly, sitting in the passenger seat of the Thunderbird and looking around slightly nervously. In contrast to the dark near-swarthiness of Duncan, she was a perfect blonde, not quite conventionally attractive but possessing that indefinable air which marked her out as special. "I..." Duncan hesitated. "Yes. A powerful one. The aura's..familiar." "You know him? Or her?" "I don't...I don't know. He's at the shop, waiting." He put the car into gear and pulled out into the street again. Tessa watched him worriedly. "It's a he?" "Definitely." Yes, he could feel that, there was a clear masculine tint to the buzz rippling through the ether. "I hope Richie hasn't come back from that date of his yet." "You mean it's an evil immortal?" Macleod shrugged. "Tessa, we don't get a complete biography together with life history and psychological profile. I've no idea about this immortal..but I just have this feeling I should do." He thumped the steering wheel in momentary irritation, then fell silent and grim as the Thunderbird nosed into the little court where the antiques shop sat dark and quiet. Both he and Tessa saw Richie's motorbike parked outside. The light of a torch flickered intermittently behind the window blind. "Stay here," Duncan said unnecessarily, levering the katana from its hiding place in the side of the car's front door. He got out of the car and, holding the sword warily, moved to the entrance of the shop. The door yielded easily to his touch - unlocked. The shop was not silent beyond. He could hear whispered voices, male voices, and he picked out three different speakers, all talking about something indistinct. He could hear Richie's occasional replies, too. Even more warily, because the other immortal would have sensed him by now, Macleod hugged the wall and slid along until he could see round the frosted glass into the small side office. "..well?" a voice demanded, suddenly audible now he was closer. "I dunno what you guys are talking about," Richie retorted, his voice not quavering in the slightest. Duncan allowed a moment of admiration for the youngster's courage, as always; it brought back memories of his own "youth", in the depths of Scotland, as a warrior of the clan. Keeping the old familiar comfort in his mind, Macleod stepped into the office. There were three of them, just as he had thought. One had his hand on Richie's head, pulling him back by the hair so that the second could keep the switchblade he held on the young man's throat. The third, obviously the leader, stood to one side watching with a sadistic grin that vanished into shock as Macleod appeared in the doorway. "Hi there," Duncan said brightly. "Did I miss something?" "Wanna switch places, Mac?" Richie invited. "Shut your face," the youth with the switchblade warned, the knife hovering dangerously close to Richie's oesophagus. "Don't do that," Duncan said quietly, but in a voice filled with real menace. The youths' eyes popped as he flipped the katana out in front of him, the long curved blade seeming almost an extension of his body. "Put the toy knife down," Duncan directed. "Hey man, didn't mean nothing by it. Just don't...shit." The youth put the switchblade down on the desk and retreated quickly. Richie got up from the chair and moved round until he was standing behind Duncan. "Tess's outside," Duncan said. "Go to her." "Right." Richie knew now wasn't a time for questioning, and he moved out of the shop as directed. Macleod transferred his attention to the three youths with a frown of puzzlement. His sixth sense told him that these three weren't immortals, but - "Your turn to put the sword down," the leader said suddenly. Duncan glanced that way and saw a wicked-looking snub-nosed pistol in the youth's hand, aiming directly at him. At point-blank range, there was no chance of missing, and the youth was just far enough away to be out of sword range. "Don't tell me," Duncan said. "You'll kill me if I don't put it down, right?" "Got it in one," the youth nodded. "So do it." Macleod hesitated, then lowered the katana. The leader started to relax, which was Duncan's clue to sweep the desk lamp up with the tip of the katana and send it flying into the youth's face. He screamed as the white-hot bulb smashed into fragments in his face and dropped the gun, staggering back against the wall. Duncan whirled just in time as the youth who'd had the switchblade earlier attacked him clumsily with one of the swords arranged on display on the wall. Very quickly the youth began to find himself outmatched by the highlander's superior skill; the match took exactly thirty seconds before the sword was on the floor and Duncan thudded the butt of the katana against the youth's temple. As he collapsed, Macleod turned to the third youth, only to find that he and the first one had fled. He lowered the katana and walked out of the office. "Now you really are dead, man," the leader said, blood streaming from a cut under his right eye. "And your friends too." He pushed his gun a little harder into the side of Tessa's neck and she jerked in an attempt to be free which he easily stopped. Richie was held securely by the third youth a little distance away. Macleod didn't move. Tessa was mortal, very much so, and any move he made would probably kill her. He didn't doubt that this youth would pull the trigger of the gun. "Put the toothpick down. Now." "Alright. Just don't touch her." Carefully, Duncan laid the katana on the floor of the antique shop and stepped back from it. "Let her go." "Yeah, right." The youth grinned. "How stupid do you think - " He never finished the sentence. The blade was thin and long and it glittered evilly as it swept down out of the darkness. Tessa screamed near-hysterically as blood sprayed over her blonde hair and the youth's head flew up away from his body, severed in an instant. As the headless corpse began to topple the finger tightened reflexively on the gun's trigger and the pistol barked loudly. At the sound of the shot, coupled with the grotesque death of his friend, the third youth turned and fled, releasing Richie. Duncan darted forward just in time to catch Tessa as her legs buckled from the sudden shock. He could see the youth's head pooling blood a short distance away, eyes open and staring in a frozen instant of terror. He wondered once again about what it was like to suffer death. "What the hell was that?" Richie asked. "That was the immortal," Duncan said grimly, staring around him into the shadows of the unlit shop. "Another Knight of the Round Table? Oh great, that makes things much better." Macleod ignored Richie's comment and picked up the katana, letting go of the steadier Tessa. He stared into the darkness. "I am Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod. Name yourself and show yourself." "I know who you are, Duncan. How could I not?" Light flooded the shop suddenly and illuminated everywhere with dazzling brightness. Duncan blinked for a moment and his eyes suddenly adjusted back to the familiar surroundings of the shop. Instinctively he looked in the direction of the light switches, but there was nobody there. "You always used to fall for that trick, Duncan." The voice came from his left and Macleod, Richie, and Tessa all spun round in that direction. The young man watching them smiled in gentle mockery at their wariness of him, seemingly unpeturbed by it. In his right hand was the weapon that had killed the first youth, a design that Richie and Tessa had never seen before. It was a two-bladed sword, a little like a boomerang, held in the middle and equally deadly at either end. One end was stained with the youth's blood. Macleod knew that sword. "So you came back," he said quietly. "Eventually. Did you doubt me?" "In the past few decades..yes." "You shouldn't do." The youth stepped forward until he was fully in the light, his features a combination of wolfish and ferret-like, his eyes glowing with a mysterious inner light. He was no older than Richie, probably young. "I always do as I promise. Well, nearly always, anyway." Duncan moved Richie and Tessa gently to one side and stepped forward, offering a clear challenge. The unnamed young man smiled and did the same thing, starting the fight by slashing forwards with the upper blade of his double sword. Duncan met the lunge and was nearly ripped in half when a slight twist of the young man's wrist brought the lower blade slashing upwards towards his stomach. He leapt backwards and circled his opponent more warily, looking for weaknesses. The young man merely turned to face him, not acting in the same concentrated style as Duncan at all, more relaxed and lazy as if it didn't matter to him. Duncan stepped forward and swung the katana. With almost casual speed the young man's doublesword swept up and the lower blade caught the katana. He kept up his motion and the upper blade came down on the other side, catching the katana broadside and nearly throwing it out of Duncan's hand. Duncan spun with the impetus, turning three hundred and sixty degrees and coming back with a strong lunge that nearly ran the young man through. At the last second he stepped to one side and met Duncan with a lunge of his own from the upper blade. Duncan parried neatly and the two immortals stepped away from each other for a moment. "You've got better," the young man remarked. "You haven't." Duncan swept forwards with smooth skill and the young man parried with the lower blade of his doublesword. Duncan put pressure on, exerting his superior strength, and the katana hovered six inches away from the young man's face as they were locked in a contest of strength. Slowly Duncan's strength began to tell and the katana inched closer. "Cheat," the young man muttered. He suddenly stepped back and the katana swept past his face, coming back up to meet as he attacked. This time, as the lower blade blocked Duncan's katana, he tilted his wrist forwards and the blade ripped right through Duncan's shoulder. With a cry Duncan lost his footing and slipped to his knee. The young man moved with the speed of a striking snake, his sword sliding sinuously over the back of Duncan's neck. "As the saying goes...there can be only one," he grinned. "No!" Richie and Tessa cried simultaneously as the doublesword arced backwards into the air, Richie lunging to his feet in a momentary attempt to stave off the inevitable. The sword swept downwards and the lower blade embedded itself in the floor barely a centimetre from Duncan's left hand, the upper curving dangerously close to his neck. The young man laughed. "But we'll find out who it is another day, shall we?" Duncan grimaced. "You didn't have to cut my shoulder off." "Off? It's still there, isn't it?" The young man reached down and helped Duncan to his feet. Blood was staining the highlander's shirt now as the wound began to heal. "After all, you're obviously very attached to it." "Your jokes hurt worse than the wound," Duncan muttered. "You guys weren't serious?" Richie asked. The young man glanced in his direction. "Nope." "You could have fooled me!" "And me." Tessa pushed past Richie and crossed to Duncan, slipping her partner's coat off his shoulder to get a good look at the wound. She glared at the young man. "If you're a friend, why do something like that?" "Keeps him on his toes. Don't worry, he'll live. Anyway, he started it, didn't he? He's never beaten me yet." The young man nudged Duncan on his good side. "Come on, Macleod, introduce me." "I guess I'm going to have to." Macleod put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "This is Flint. Flint, meet Tessa and Richie." "Pleased to meet you. Very pleased in your case," Flint said with an unmistakeable grin, focussing on Tessa. She gave him a cold stare and he shrugged, not at all disconcerted. "Guess it's a good job you guys are friends," Richie allowed, "or else I'd be looking for another home right now." He looked at Macleod with a wicked sparkle in his eyes. "I've finally found someone who can beat you!" "What do you expect?" Flint asked. "After all, how do you think I've survived this long? Honest looks?" "How long?" Richie asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "A long while," Flint evaded. "Come on, don't be modest," Duncan needled. "Well..." Flint seemed to hesitate, but he made a bad job of pretending to be reluctant. He was obviously, childishly, enjoying the attention. "Six thousand and twelve years next March." Richie stared. "What?!" "You're looking at the oldest living immortal," Flint grinned. "Me." =========================================================================