Date: Wed, 15 Nov 1995 15:15:17 -0500 Reply-To: Raven Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Raven Subject: New Zine: Of the Clan MacLeod, Issue 1 A New Highlander Zine Just in Time for the Holidays! (For those Hard-To-Shop-For Immies on your List!) OF THE CLAN MacLEOD 1 --------------------- Featured stories include the following, excerpted for your reading pleasure.... =================== A TRIP TO THE FAIRE by Kim Prosser and Lisa Swope =================== [Duncan and Richie agree to work a Renaissance Faire with Tessa. What Duncan (in his kilt) and Richie (in his...?...) don't count on is another immortal at the faire.] ----------- "Come on." Tessa smiled coaxingly at both men. "It'll be fun to work a Reanissance Faire." Richie looked dubious, while Duncan offered a grin. "Far be it from me to ever do anything that's not fun." Bending down, he braced his chin against Tessa's shoulder, wrapped his arms around her, and nuzzled her ear. "I like to have fun." "Yes, you do." She shivered. "But I have to get this done, Duncan." She gestured at the placard she was painting. "It's the last one. And I have to call Charlotte with your answer tonight. Richie's already agreed to do his part. What about you?" Releasing Tessa, Duncan nabbed a raw carrot from Tessa's stash on the table. "Why not." "Does that mean yes?" "Sure." "Fantastic." Grabbing the remote phone where it was perched haphazardly atop a stack of boards, Tessa punched a series of numbers. "Charlotte, I have the men you need for the Renaissance Faire," she spoke to the woman's answering machine. "As for costumes..." She wandered away from the work area and into theantique shop proper, where the remote phone's reception was better. "...I don't think we'll need any. I have one from a costuming class I took years ago in Paris. Duncan will be able to locate a kilt. And I think I have some tights and a tunic for Richie." Richie's frightened eyes met Duncan's. "Say what?" He spun about as Tessa completed the call and came back into the room. "I'm not wearing tights." "Yes, you are." "You didn't say I'd be wearing tights." He was practically spitting the words in panic. "I won't wear tights. Tights aren't for guys. Tell her, Duncan." "Tights aren't for guys," he mumbled obediently, trying hard not to laugh outright. "At least, not in the last few hundred years. Why does he have to wear tights?" "I asked him to play Julian." Duncan's eyes widened into Tessa's. A moment later, he was grinning. "And does Richie know what Romeo and Julian do?" "He knows enough. He agreed to do it." Richie looked from an obstinate-looking Tessa to a delighted MacLeod. "You told me they were a comedic troupe of players doing Shakespeare. I can learn lines as well as the next guy, but nobody said anything about tights." Coming around the table, Duncan slid his arm across Richie's shoulders. "It's all right, Richie, old buddy. You won't have to wear the tights for long." "Why not?" "Because Romeo and Julian do 'Romeo and Juliet.' Do I really have to tell you who dons the dress to play Juliet?" Sliding out from under Mac's arm, Richie backed away. Holding his hands stretched out before him, he spluttered, "Oh, no-no-no-no-no. I'm not playing a girl, not for a million bucks, and your friend isn't offering anywhere near that amount." "It's Julian or the mud beggar," said Tessa sullenly. "What's a mud beggar?" "Head to toe, he's covered in mud. Dry mud. All day long, he goes from person to person and picks on them. He solicits money for charity, has his picture taken with endless teenagers and little kids--" "He makes faces and scares little babies in strollers." Duncan nabbed another carrot. "It's fun. You'd like it. I did." "You were a mud beggar?" "In another life." Duncan looked so innocent, Richie couldn't tell if he was serious. "Okay, I'll do it," Richie said abruptly. "You have to ad-lib all day and roll in wet mud a lot, to keep your costume intact," warned Tessa. "Do I have to wear tights?" She shook her head. "Draw-string knickers, probably. But no shirt. No shoes, either. Just mud." "Tell your friend that I'll do that." "Fine." Sounding annoyed, she turned her attention back to painting a sign with Tessa's Treasures sketched on it. Many fine pieces of art and ceramics would be displayed for sale under that sign. "She was going to make me be a girl," Richie growled at Duncan on the way out the door. "What if some of my old friends showed up? It's possible." "If you're covered in mud, I doubt they'll recognize you." "Exactly." He cast a dark look Tessa's way, but she didn't even look up. "See you two tomorrow." "Sure." Duncan looked at Tessa expectantly after Richie had gone. "All right Tess. 'Fess." "I beg your pardon?" "Confess. You never intended for Richie to wear those tights. Or play Juliet. You made the whole thing up." "It worked, didn't it? He's playing the beggar." Smiling angelically, Tessa picked up the sign to hang it where it would safe drying. ========================== Charing Cross Road, London by Kim Prosser and Lisa Swope ========================== [A bookstore owner in London finds a Watcher CD tucked into a shipment of books she bought at auction. After careful analysis of the information on the disk, she decides to contact Duncan MacLeod in hopes of convincing him to help her locate her missing lover.] ----------- Striding with false boldness up the gangplank onto the barge, Dana returned to the by-now familiar door to pound authoritatively upon it. Once again, Duncan MacLeod did not answer. Sighing, she pounded again, but to no avail. Turning, she rested her back against the door. What do I do now? For all I know, he might not even be in the city. He might be somewhere down south, taking somebody's head! Heading for the gangway, she halted abruptly as a man in a black trenchcoat strode off of it, nearly colliding with her. Backing away, she looked up. Her eyes widened into Duncan MacLeod's as the thought registered, He's a lot bigger in person than in his picture. She wasn't prepared for the sheer masculine power of the man. Nor was she prepared to realize just how broad he was, and how visually intimidating. His eyes were gentle as she'd remembered them, but his hands were huge, his shoulders broad, and he felt like no one she'd ever met before. I'm alone with him. No one knows where I am. If Mr. MacLeod isn't an honorable fellow, I'm in deep trouble. Perhaps at the bottom of the Seine. His eyes stared right at her, almost as though he was looking through her thoughts and down to her very soul. Her intuition was trying to reassure her, but her logical mind was having none of it. It's all true, she realized. He is 400 years old. He is immortal. He's got the spiritual depth and the grounding to survive that long. And I'm way out of my league with him. I never should have come. I should have sent the damned computer disk Federal Express and enclosed a begging letter asking, "Can you help me?" "Can I help you?" he asked. He was so close that his voice vibrated in her own chest when he spoke. She stepped back. "Um...I don't think so. That is, I thought so, but I don't think so now. I came from London to talk with you about a friend, but it's okay. We don't have to talk. I'll just give you this and won't trouble you, okay?" Pulling the CD from her pocket, she held it out. He glanced at the Watchers' logo on the disk. His expression didn't change, but his body stiffened. He didn't take the disk. "Come inside." Slipping past her, he went to unlock the door. Spinning about, she followed at his heels, prepared to chuck the disk at him and run, if she had to. "There's no need for me to come in, really. Just take the thing, will you? You obviously know what it is, so you probably want it back." Pushing open the door, Duncan slipped a hand beneath her elbow to guide her inside. "After your coming all the way from London, I can't let you go without at least offering you a drink for your thoughtfulness." She hung back. "Yes, you can." "There's no need to be afraid. I won't hurt you. Come inside. We'll talk." "No way. I really need to go now." His brown eyes were intense. "Why?" "If you want the honest truth, it's because you're a damn scary man," she blurted. "I thought that I could handle this Immortal stuff. I can't. Sorry. I've really got to go." "Please come inside. Please." His grin was warm, his tone was soft and coaxing, but his grip on her arm gave her little choice. With her sneakered feet skidding on the floor, he practically dragged her inside his private apartments. She briefly considered grabbing the doorframe and letting her nails scritch around the molding as she lost the battle, but thought better of it when she tripped on the threshold and nearly fell against him. No sense looking stupid as well as terrified. There's no way I can win against those muscles. Once she was safely inside, Duncan released her arm. Reaching over her head, he closed the door and smiled down at her. "This is much nicer, don't you think? We're out of the rain now." "I hadn't noticed it raining," she managed through clenched teeth. "If this is Paris, it must be raining." He left her standing in the small entry, free to fling back the door and run for her little mortal life. "So, what can I get you to drink?" Glancing down, she saw that she still had the CD in her hand. Rats. Why rats? an irate voice spoke inside her head. You have what you wanted: the man's at home and you're inside with him. Are you going to be a mouse and run away, or brace yourself for what's probably going to be one of the strangest conversations of your life? ============= Connor's Song by Kim Prosser and Lisa Swope ============= [Connor's awakened in the middle of the night by a ghost. It's Tessa, and she's come to ask a favor.] ---------------- ...Connor left his body behind and remembered Tessa as he had known her. She grew from his imagination, taking form and substance, walking eagerly across the mind plane to meet him. Her eyes were worried, seeking his. "Can you hear me? Can you see me?" As always, in times of stress, her French accent was pronounced. "Yes." "Oh, thank God." Grabbing both his hands, she held on. Her fingers were cold, and she was shaking. "Connor, I've wrecked everything. Even after all of these months, Duncan is devastated, and I can't reach him. He's so alone and I'm so scared. He needs me, Connor. I have to go back to him. I promised him forever, and I meant it." "Sometimes we can't keep our promises." "I don't believe that. Duncan kept his. Every one. He promised that he'd never leave me again after you left us in Canada. He never did. Even after I died, he stayed with me. What broke my heart was the noises he made. He didn't cry out, didn't rage. He just...mewled. Like a lost kitten. He's always been so strong, it was terrible to hear him like that. He's still hurting after all of this time, and I can't reach him! Why can I reach you, and not him?" Connor grimaced. "I have a few talents Duncan doesn't." "Because of the sorcerer? I've watched you studying those books, Connor. I know what you can do. I want to come back, I want to be with Duncan. He needs me, and I know you can help. I know what you can do." "You know what I can do?" He rocked back. "Tessa, I don't know what I can do. It's true that I received all of Nakano's power, but I can't bring back the dead. It's not allowed. Hell, I don't even know if it's possible! And even if it is, I can't do it." Whirling, he stalked away. Tessa ran to catch up. "You have the power. I know you do. Why won't you?" "It's not allowed." "You're not allowed to help someone you love? You're not allowed to give something back to a man who's done so much in this world to try and right things?" Yanking on his shoulder, she spun him around. "If it's not allowed, then tell me what the bloody hell are all of those quickenings and the knowledge and the power and the lightening displays all about? Are they just theatrics? What are they for, Connor, if not to use what you've learned to help people who need you?" He stared at his feet. "I can't help you, Tessa. And I can't explain. Please leave it at that. Go on with your afterlife." Wrapping her arms about herself, she shivered and spoke through clenched teeth. "I can't go back if you don't help me, and I promise that I won't go on. Even if I have to wait right here in this horrible, in-between place forever, I'll wait. For Duncan, I would wait forever. Have you ever loved anyone, Connor?" He looked away. "Yes." "If she was standing here asking you to bring her back, would you?" He closed his eyes. Heather. My first and best love...What wouldn't I give to have you beside me again, to see you smile and feel your touch, to make you laugh? The anguish of your dying is as fresh today as it was all those centuries years ago. And still.... "I wouldn't bring her back. I couldn't. It's not allowed. I'm sorry, Tessa." * * * Excerpt from Connor's Journal Quickenings bestow power and knowledge, but I've always thought of myself as the receptacle rather than the user of the gifts I've been given. Always, the knowledge has been too frightening, too dangerous, to even hope to use. But Tessa's coming has made me think of things I thought settled in my mind long ago. If I'm honest with myself, I'll admit that I'm frightened to death to even contemplate trying to grant Tessa her wish. Is it possible? Would it have been possible for Nakano? If so, it's a terrible temptation. If I can bring back Tessa for Duncan, why not bring back Heather or Brenda for myself? And what about Alex when she dies? In addition to the antiques, I could offer a zombie resurrection service. Sounds fairly lucrative, don't you think? Messy, but lucrative.... I've never used anything I inherited through Kane. I've never needed to and have been more than half afraid of having to. Should I now? Is it right or is it wrong to help Tessa? And what about Duncan? If I have the ability to help, how can I turn my back on my kinsman? =========================== ALSO INCLUDED IN THIS ISSUE =========================== "Mother Love," by Nancy L. Cleveland -- Richie is faced with a terrible dilemma; behead Duncan, or lose a woman wanting desperately to be a mother to him. "The Final Score," by Julie Landry -- The last immortal, the oldest immortal, sits on a park bench, contemplating his sword and what to do next.... "Mistakes," by Rene Gibson -- "I killed Connor," says Kimba. "You want to tell me what happened?" says Duncan. "Not really," says Kimba. "Open Mike Night at Joe's," by Jill Spetosky -- Duncan and his immortal friends have their hands full, trying to rehabilitate a few self-destructive mortals who are now immortal. "Nothing Special, by Kim Prosser -- Alex is driven to get to know Connor a bit better. But how will he answer her questions? (Picks up where Highlander 3 left off). "Amanda," a one-act play by Grail, features Amanda and Duncan, as well as the ancestors of Richie, Tessa, Anne and Charlie. Partially written in 17th-century English, it tells a comic tale of high romance, immortal adventures, and weaves many tangled webs and misunderstandings in fine, pseudo-Shakespearean style. "And Promises to Keep..." by Robin Fingerson -- After Tessa's death, Duncan is feeling somewhat suicidal. Long ago, he made a dear friend promise to behead him if he asked it. Is he asking now? "Revelations," by Amy M. Denton -- What would have happened, had Duncan been forced to tell Anne who and what he is, long before he made the choice to do so? ====================== (Additional stories are also included that are not summarized here.) ====================== Format: 8-1/2" x 11" Two-column print Plastic spiral bound 156 pages in 11 point, easy-to-read type ====================================================== To order Of the Clan MacLeod 1, please send check or money order (payable through a U.S. bank) for: $20.00 US (postage included) $22.00 Air Mail - Canada $27.00 Air Mail - Europe TO: KIMBERWICKE ENTERPRISES P.O. Box 1114 2485 Pellicer Road St. Augustine, FL 32085-1114 USA ====================================================== ATTENTION WRITERS & ARTISTS! We are now accepting submissions for Of the Clan MacLeod 2, due out when we get enough good stuff to print the zine. If you have posted stories to the HL Fiction List, we will willingly look at your stories to see if your writing style fits what we have in mind for the zine, HOWEVER, please submit ONLY original HL fiction for consideration for publication. This means that your creation should not have been posted or published previously. Also, no crossovers, please. Questions? Comments? Please feel free to call us at (904) 823-9837. Or email us on the Internet at =========================================================================