Date: Wed, 2 Nov 1994 00:54:12 EST Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jacquie Groom <100045.3717@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: Name of the Sword pt 4 of 5 "Robert - come back to the hotel with us," Elenore pleaded, as they left the pub together. "You're not camping out, are you ?" Richie said, aghast. Robert nodded. "I've done it most of my life - why stop now ?" He smiled at the youngster. "Firelight on the cave walls, the owls hooting in the forest, the stars and the moon - you should try it." "But you need somewhere to live !" Elenore insisted. "This isn't the thirteenth century any more !" She stepped closer to him, slipped her arm through his. "Why not leave with me, tonight ! We could be in Paris by nightfall, anywhere in the world by tomorrow. It'd be fun." But the blond immortal shook his head. "I can't leave Sherwood," he said in a quiet, but definite voice. "Why not ?" Duncan asked, opening the car door. "You know why not. Now, I'm fine - so you can stop worrying about me. Why don't you just go home ?" Duncan gave one of his widest grins. "You can't get rid of us that easily. We'll see you tomorrow." Richie was about to get in the car, when suddenly, he made up his mind. "Did you mean it ? Can I camp out with you ? I'd really like to see what it's like." Robert looked questioningly at Duncan. "Is it all right with you ?" Duncan glanced at Richie, then shrugged. "He's a big boy; if he wants to stay -" "Yes !" Richie said with a grin. "Why did you want to stay ?" Robert said as they strode together down leafy paths. Richie ran his hand through his curly hair. "I'm not sure. You made it sound good. And - earlier - when I got lost - I sort of felt there was more to this place than just a load of trees. You, and Duncan, and Elenore - you all seem so sure that there are ghosts here. I just kinda wanted to see more for myself." "You're not scared ?" He shrugged. "Sure, I'm scared. But I like to stand up to my fears." Robert raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Richie smiled. "This is going to be great !" Then suddenly they stepped into a patch of mist. "Woah," Richie said, moving fractionally closer to Robert. "Are you sure you know where you're going ?" The blonde immortal laughed. "I know every square inch of this forest. We're just passing into an older part of Sherwood. Hardly anyone comes this deep any more. Some people - even the people who are supposed to take care of the woods - don't even know it exists. " The mist cleared as quickly as it had come down; they stood in a small clearing, facing a gaping cave mouth. The ground looked marshy. "Take care where you walk," Robert warned. "This used to be water, years ago. It's easier to get home, now, but I miss the way it used to be." He reached up, and lit a torch. The flickering flames lit up the darkening sky, and made strange patterns on the cave walls. Richie glanced around. He looked edgy. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea," he said, while he watched Robert spread blankets on piles of bracken. "I'm in the way - I don't belong here." But Robert stopped preparing the camp, and stood behind the young man. "No, Richie. I'm rather glad to have you here. It's been a while since I've had someone to talk to. Come on, it's not so bad. D'you fancy something to eat ?" Richie shrugged. "Pizza ? Burgers ? Or should it be venison, out here ?" "Those days are long, long gone. It's stew. But it tastes good. I had a good teacher." "Who ?" Richie asked, dipping a finger in the pot which was bubbling on a low fire. Robert smiled. "Friar Tuck." Sitting round the camp fire, Richie looked across at the fair-haired immortal. He looked pale; almost other-worldly in the firelight. Suddenly the boy remembered something he wanted to ask. "Are you really a king ?" he asked. Robert smiled. "King of Sherwood. Lord of all the eye can see." "No ! Duncan was saying something about the King of Scotland." Pouring himself another glass of wine, Robert shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "I used to believe I was the eldest son of the Earl of Huntingdon, nephew of the King of Scotland. I was brought up to think of myself as the son of one of the most powerful men in England. I had duty and responsibility drummed into me from the time I could talk. I believed it - my family believed it - and even my father, although he called me a changeling, a fool, and an unnatural son, believed I was his son. I'm sure of it !" His face, glowing red in the firelight, was earnest; his eyes had a faraway look in them. Richie was sure Robert was barely aware of him. "So ? What changed that ?" Richie asked eventually. Robert shrugged. "Gradually it became apparent, from meeting other immortals, that they were all foundlings. No matter what loving family they had been brought up in, sooner or later the truth came out. So I had to conclude that my father was not my true father, and that it was actually a good thing that I was struck out of the family tree." "But that's dreadful !" Richie said, aghast. "Why ?" "Richie ! I was an outlaw ! Wolfshead, banished ! How could I remain Heir to Huntingdon ? My father married again; he had other children. And by the time I worked out that something strange must have happened at the time of my birth, there was no one left to ask; no-one who would have known. I had passed out of history into the books of legends and myths." There was really nothing he could say. Richie nodded, slightly sadly, and, reluctantly, left the warm fireside for the pile of furs and blankets Robert had prepared for him. After a while he grinned. "Robert ? You're still the nearest thing to a king I'm ever likely to meet !" For a while there was silence in the cave. Only the faint crackling of the firewood, and the occasional shriek of an owl disturbed the peace. "Richie ?" The voice woke him out of a light doze. "Yeah ?" Richie answered sleepily. "What is it ?" Robert sat there, by the dying embers of the fire. "Richie, I owe you an apology," he said. "I got you here under false pretences." Richie sat up. "What are you talking about ? I invited myself here !" "And I surprised the life out of Duncan and Elenore by agreeing to it. You see, I knew that with you here, those two would stop worrying and leave me alone." "Why ? Why do you want to be alone ?" Robert turned away; he stood, silhouetted against the moonlight. "Because Taran is coming !" "What !" Richie was on his feet in seconds, trailing furs and blankets behind him. "He hasn't turned up for centuries, and you say he's coming tonight ?" Calmly, Robert nodded. "Why are you so sure ? Why didn't you want Duncan here ? He's a good man with a sword -" Robert interrupted him, gesturing for silence. "I know. He's just about the best I've ever seen. But this is something I've got to deal with, and I don't want Duncan interfering, taking over. " He stalked around the cave mouth, peering out into the dark shapes of the moonlit forest. "Look, Taran will come. I know it. Because Taran was never afraid of me. Taran was afraid of Albion. And now he thinks Albion is gone." "Something's wrong !" Duncan MacLeod slammed down his glass, spilling some of the whisky in the process. "We've missed something." Elenore glanced at him, raising her eyebrows. "We have ?" "Yes ! We've been had. Why would Robert have agreed to take Richie to the Cave ?" The immortal woman took a careful bite of the dark chocolate which had been served with her coffee. "Because he wanted us to stay away," she said eventually. "Exactly. And why would he want us well away ?" She thought for a moment. "He's expecting someone ?" "Taran !" they exclaimed simultaneously. Duncan grabbed Elenore's arm. "Come on. We'd better get going." "I just don't understand what all the fuss is about this sword," Richie said, watching Robert polish Albion. "It's just a sword, isn't it ?" Robert shook his head. "Anything but. Albion is special. There is still some of the old magic in it; something which keeps it loyal to Herne, and to me. It cannot harm me" The lights shone brightly in the Great Hall at Nottingham castle. And Guy of Gisburne, his blue eyes hungry for victory, fought the injured son of the Earl of Huntingdon. The Sheriff, nursing a sword-cut from a close encounter with Robert, looked on as Gisburne closed on the outlaw. A sword lay on the table. Albion, brought to the castle by the men who had arrested Marion. Albion, Loxley's sword. The sword she had offered to Robert, only to be met with refusal. Huntingdon did not think himself worthy. Gisburne had no such scruples. Disarmed, he grabbed the shining weapon, and bore down on Robin Hood. Pinned against the wall, sword long gone, gasping with pain from his injured leg, Robert was helpless. Was this how it was all to end ? He shut his eyes, and waited for the blow. A blow that never came. Albion, raised high in Gisburne's hand, seemed to glow. And the look on the Steward's face changed, from triumphant gloating to surprise, and then to agony. Astonished, unbelieving, Robert watched as the fair-haired knight crumpled to the floor, letting Albion fall with a clatter. Robert ran his fingers down the runes. "I arrived too late to save Herne, that day. In spite of his immortality, he was an old man. He was not strong. But Taran was still there when Elenore and I burst into the clearing. And I unsheathed Albion." He paused, looking far into the distance. "It was a dark, moonless night, but Albion glowed angrily, with a strange, unearthly light, from the moment I entered Sherwood. It almost seemed to drag me towards the villain who had killed an old man in this, his holiest of places." He sighed. "I'd seen a lot of things. But I don't think I've ever been so scared as I was that night. And Elenore ...?" "She was scared ?" Richie looked stunned. "Richie - she was terrified. Anyone would have been." The young man thought for a while. "So you think Taran is coming ?" "I know he is." "And you're going to kill him ? Here, in the cave ? Isn't that as being as bad as he was ?" Robert shook his head. "Those events defiled this place. But it is still sacred, to me and to a few others who still believe in the Forest Lord. Taran would not come here again." "Why not ?" Richie still looked puzzled. When Robert did not answer, the lad strode over to stand by the immortal. "Look - if I'm asking too many questions -" Robert shook his head. "Don't worry - I don't mind. It's just that some questions don't have easy answers." He put a firm hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here, even if I did get you here under false pretences. Don't worry - you're safe enough. Listen - have you seen Duncan take a quickening ?" Surprised by the change of subject, Richie nodded. "A couple," he said nonchalantly. Then he grinned. "It really freaked me out, the first time. Talk about fireworks !" Robert nodded. "Well, when Taran killed Herne, there was no Quickening. But somehow - it was as if something was taken out of Taran. Not only did he not gain anything from the beheading, he lost something too. He almost seemed to - shrivel up. " He took a deep breath. "Look - I witnessed this, and I still don't quite believe it. It was almost as if the ground, the air, the cave, the trees - the entire grove turned against him. Not with fireworks and pyrotechnics, but a thick, deep fog which seemed to descend from the trees and envelope him. And when I lifted Albion, the fog cleared, and he was - changed. Diminished. He had been a tall, handsome, charismatic man - but when he fled the forest that day,he looked more like a shrivelled old man. And the last thing he saw as he ran, was Albion, blazing with fury. " The immortal glanced around. "This place is still angry with him. I can almost feel it, in every blade of grass, in every tree, every stone. And Taran knows that." Once more, he put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Listen, Richie. I'm going to the lakeside, to face him. To end this once and for all. For your safety, you must stay here. Agreed ?" Richie, slightly shaken by Robert's revelations, nodded. Robert smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and slipped out of the cave mouth. Richie watched him go. But as Duncan MacLeod well knew, Richie Ryan rarely stayed where he was told. Before Robert was totally out of sight, Richie slipped out of the cave, his heart beating wildly as he headed into the mist. The moon shone on the stream; Robert stood on the small bridge, staring down into the clear water. How many times had he stood here, over the years ? He could remember standing in the same spot with Marion, holding her hand, smiling into her beautiful, sad eyes. And more recently he'd watched as Claire dangled her feet off the side, dabbling her toes in the water. Happy memories. But now, he stood alone, watching the treeline, searching with eyes and mind for the distinctive buzz which would tell him of the approach of his enemy. Albion hung by his side, a familiar, comforting weight; his oldest friend. Somehow, he could almost feel a tension in the sword, as if it too was waiting. And then he felt it; the bell-like sound which rang through his mind. An immortal, nearby. He pulled up his hood, and crouched down in the shadows. It was strange, Richie thought, the forest at night. It had seemed so eerie, so mysterious to him earlier, when the mist had come down. But now, in the moonlight, he could somehow see things clearer than in the light of day. However, he was not used to tracking in the dark, and Robert slipped through the undergrowth as if he was part of it. Before long, he was out of sight, and Richie was well and truly lost. And then he heard something. Twigs snapping, a dull thud, then a harsh, unfamiliar voice muttering a stream of curses. Taran ! It had to be ! So Robert had been right all along... Richie hid behind the nearest oak, and waited, holding his breath, as the succession of noises grew closer. Taran was nothing like he had imagined. The immortals he had seen, evil or good, had all had a certain - something - about them. Something charismatic. Something compelling. But this man was truly ugly. Warped. And filthy. But he obviously knew where he was heading. And he was easier to track than Robert. Taking care not to disturb a single twig, Richie slipped out of the shadows, and tagged along. Robert waited, his hand on Albion's hilt. Taran was out there, somewhere. He could sense it. And every now and then, the moonlight glinted through the trees, catching something shining in it's beams. It could be a dropped chocolate wrapper. Or a sword. "Huntingdon !" The voice took him by surprise. It was harsh and angry. "Huntingdon ! I know you've lost that devil's plaything you called a sword. Stop skulking in the shadows, you pagan, and face me, man to man." Richie could see them both, caught in the flickering light of the moon on the water. He stood perfectly still, well downstream from the enemies, hidden in the undergrowth. He was aware of nothing but the two men; it was as if the rest of the world did not exist. And then someone grabbed his arm. "Mac ! What are you doing here !" Richie gasped as he swung round to face his assailant. "What's going on ?" MacLeod asked, glancing around. "Taran. He and Robert are out there. They're going to fight !" As he watched his Immortal friend's face cloud over with worry, he looked slightly puzzled. "Can't you sense them ?" MacLeod shook his head distractedly. "Not at this distance. Something to do with the mist and the trees. They have a dampening effect." He turned to Elenore, who slipped silently to his side. "We've got to stop this," he said. Elenore nodded. "Where is Taran ? Can you distract him, while I get Robert out of the way ?" Duncan took a few steps forward, to examine the terrain and pinpoint the relative positions. He looked grimly confident. "No problem," he said. "Yes problem !" Richie interrupted. "Why are you doing this, guys ? I mean, I know he's your friend, but shouldn 't you let him fight his own battles ?" "Keep out of this, Richie," Duncan said firmly. Usually, that was that. But not tonight. Richie looked up into his friend's dark, intense eyes. "No !" he said. "I won't. I might have only met him today, but it seems to me that I understand him better than you two do. You treat him like an incompetent child that can't be allowed to go out to play in case he hurts himself. This is his past, his life, his fight. You've got to let him fight it." After a moment, Duncan lifted his head. "You're right, Richie," he said. Richie's eyes opened wide with surprise. "I'm right ? Did you say I was right ?" He turned to Elenore. "Did you hear that ? He said I was right ! You're my witness, OK ?" Elenore laughed. "He is right, Duncan. We've treated Robert like an invalid too long. Let him deal with this." "But -" Duncan began, doubts clouding his eyes once more. "No buts," Elenore said. "Your problem, Mac, is that you care too much. You've got to let go. It's his battle, his religion, his country. Don't interfere." MacLeod let out a long sigh. "I know. But it's hard. And ..." he shook his head. "I care a lot for Robert. Somehow, it's easier to fight other people's battles myself, rather than sit back and watch them face the dangers." Elenore slipped her arm through Duncan's. "I know," she said softly. "I know." =========================================================================