Date: Sat, 12 Mar 1994 04:22:00 -0700 Reply-To: Richard Carter Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Richard Carter Organization: The LAND OF ENCHANTMENT BBS! Albuquerque, NM 505 857-0836 Subject: HLFIC: Two Left . Two Left It was the flash that stuck in his mind. When the sword came down it caught the beam of light at just the perfect angle to cause a streak that seemed to hang in the air; tracing the course it took on its way to cleave the head of another immortal away from it's accustomed resting place just above the shoulders. Perhaps it was because of this image trapped in his mind's eye, but it seemed to be taking forever for the quickening to start. This delay wasn't helping. The quickening was difficult enough without having anticipation make the anxiety grow. It gave him a chance to think about what had just happened. About how there was going to be yet another unsolved murder. How many had it been? He decided to stop counting when the number exceeded one hundred. It took almost three hundred years to reach that level. An average of one head every three years. It was unpleasant, but not unbearable. It wasn't difficult to stay centered. These last hundred years had been considerably harder. At the start of his fourth century he became a target. Strong enough to be inviting, yet not so powerful that his own mythic status would give him an automatic advantage. In one month he took fifteen heads. For that year, the count was easily over one hundred. He almost went mad. There was a tingling in his fingers. The sensation was impossible to describe. It felt "blue". Not like the emotion, but like the color. The tingling in his fingers felt blue. The quickening was about to start. What was this one going to be like? It was surely going to be powerful and protracted. The vanquished immortal in front of him had at least as many notches on his scabbard. He'd been lucky to win so easily. Tendrils of energy began to move in his direction. Why were they taking so long? This waiting was tortu-- aaahh. The first gentle wave caressed his being. This orgasmic feeling was like nothing any mortal had ever experienced. His entire body shuddered with appreciation. His brain suddenly felt like it had never been alive before. He'd kill again to know this feeling. It ebbed away. The ectoplasmic tendrils that had previously only seemed vaguely aware of him were poised all around. Some had surrounded his body like an insatiable lover. The rest were coiled like serpents ready for the kill. A thought ran through his head. He didn't speak it. It didn't need to be spoken to be efficacious. "There can be only one." Aargh! As always, he was only vaguely aware of the electrified carnage going on around him. At the moment, the need to stay attached to his own personal core of self was his primary concern. He'd seen other immortals absorb a quickening. The body jerked around like a piece of driftwood caught in an ocean's waves. It was amazing how divorced the recipient was from this physical abuse. Memories flooded his consciousness. Only they weren't his memories. They were the memories of his now dead foe, and of all the other "immortals" whose deaths formed a chain eons long. Now began the litany. The merging of past lives and experiences with his own. This was the part he would have preferred skipping. Most of the personalities were uninteresting to him. They always had been. Only when the chain entered the period that covered his own lifetime was his interest sparked. Then it had to be, because this was the most dangerous time for him. If he was going to survive, he was going to have to pay attention. Luck was on his side. Soon after he focused himself, a personality he hadn't anticipated tried to take control. It was one of the first immortals. One that had lived for two thousand years. Its personality was incredibly strong. Fortunately, it was also unfamiliar. It took some effort to remain centered and focus his thoughts on his own life, but it wasn't extraordinarily difficult. With just the slightest of mental shudders, the struggle for dominance was over, and the ancient immortal became an afterthought. It was back to keeping a watchful eye on the lineage rushing past. Finally it had reached the point where he either knew or knew of the souls he was internalizing. As long as he remembered who he was, it would be simple to-- Amanda! He'd had two great loves in his life: one had been mortal, and the other immortal. The mortal one had died, when? Focus! But when did Amanda die? It couldn't have been more than a week ago that he-- He could feel laughter. It was a familiar laugh, but it wasn't Amanda's. "That's why I killed her last. I really hate to lose." Damn. The quickening was another chance. Every immortal in the line would have a chance to be the dominant personality if only control could be wrested from the victor. It didn't happen often, but it did happen. It had happened to Darius. All it took was a strong personality willing to win. The host always had the advantage, but through cleverness and luck, the host could be defeated. There was almost always a fight at the end. But now it was two against one. These odds weren't permitted in "The Game", but during a quickening, anything was allowed. Amanda had been enough of a distraction that she hadn't been internalized right away. Though he loved her, and she him, she was clearly a danger. If he focused too much on the last personality, then Amanda could snatch possession of his soul away from him and from the newly dead immortal. It's not that she was malicious, but everyone wanted to win "The Game". There could be only one. The other personality was strong. The blackness of its fetid spirit alone would have defeated any lesser host by its mere presence. If Amanda hadn't chosen to stay out of the fight, evil would have won this day. Instead, it was cast into a dark recess. Now, there was just one last entity to deal with. The quickening would never end if something wasn't done about her. She had been so selfless. She let him survive. While it seemed out of character for her to have done so, he realized that as "soul mates" it was the only thing she could have done. They had a bond that few couples in a century know, and theirs had lasted more than a lifetime. They had the gentle caring that prevented them from deeply hurting the other, and which also mandated that they forgive on those occasions when there was a small transgression. Her thoughtfulness now had to be reciprocated. There was really only one choice he could make: Amanda would always be allowed to touch his soul. His mind was on fire! All of the past lives became his. Not individually as before, but en masse. All but one. The pain was worse than he had ever experienced before. Although he was feeling more powerful, he also felt more mortal. It was like being born again; coming from mother's womb onto a bed of pins in the middle of a firestorm. He screamed. Nothing was worth this kind of agony. His eyes burned like coals in their sockets. His finger and toe nails felt like they were slowly turning inside out. His hair ached. His brain was exhausted; as if it had been pummeled for decades by handful after handful of eiderdown. The accumulated abuse of thousands upon thousands of light raps upon his mind. He wailed. Nothing was worth this. Finally, the pain started to subside. Already the memory of it was starting to dim as well. And then it hit him. The feeling of pleasure that presaged the quickening was nothing like the intensely orgasmic rush with which his body and mind were suddenly wracked. How could he live without knowing this feeling again? Why would he want to? He'd kill again to know this feeling. Then it was over. There was glass everywhere. And manhole covers. There was more debris around him than he'd ever seen before. Still in front of him was the decapitated body. He wanted to throw- up, but he'd skipped both breakfast and lunch so he wouldn't feel sluggish. There was his sword. It still had tiny fingers of electricity dancing on the surface of the blade. He was on his hands and knees. He didn't notice that before. And he was shaking. Mustering his remaining strength, he gripped his sword and then struggled to his feet. He felt -- he didn't know what he felt, exactly. Lightheaded and disoriented; maybe a little more than he was used to. There was a gentle inner warmth as his mind flashed on Amanda. The memory of the pain was almost gone. The memory of the pleasure wouldn't stop nagging at his soul. He'd kill again to know that feeling. "There can be only one." "Maybe there's room for two, my love?" THE END Copyright (c) Richard Carter Jr, 1993-1994 All rights reserved CJ (richard.carter@loebbs.com) * RM 1.3 00944 * ---- +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | LAND OF ENCHANTMENT BBS! Albuquerque, New Mexico (USA) (505) 857-0836 | | MS-DOS/OS-2/Windows - 60M a month! U'NI/Intelec/ILink/Basenet/P.E.N. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ =========================================================================