Date: Thu, 8 Feb 1996 07:58:30 -0500 Reply-To: Frank Balon Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Frank Balon Subject: The Old Timer 5/5 "The Old Timer" part 5 of 5 A Highlander Story by Frank D. Balon Over the next two weeks, not skipping a day, Richie and Mr. Pavelski practiced the sword. For the first few days, they continued using the wooden daito. Then, when the older man arrived at the dojo for his morning workout starting their second week, Richie was waiting with a surprise. "I was rummaging through MacLeod's storage room ... and I came across this." He was holding a rich looking, dark-stained wooden walking stick. Pavelski took the cane from Richie's extended hand. Examining the workmanship, he said, "It's beautiful. Look at the pattern of the grain." "Yes it is." The young man replied. "But look a little closer.... Twist the grip." Grasping the cane with his left hand, Joe turned the handle with his right hand and felt an unmistakable click. Pulling the grip apart from the main part of the staff, revealed a tapered, double edged blade. Smiling widely, the new Immortal held the blade vertically, in front of this face. Admiring its elegance, he observed, "You would never, ever suspect this little beauty, would you?" "No you wouldn't." Richie answered. "That's why it's perfect for you." "For me.... Thank you. But how can I ever make it up to you." "Don't you worry about that." Richie answered. "When Mac first started my training, he gave me my rapier. Now, I'm ... passing on the tradition." Grinning, the younger man thought to himself, ' Some way, I'll make this up to Mac... I don't know how ... but I'll do it.' Then, speaking to Joe, "C'mon, let's try it out." As Mr. Pavelski's training continued over the next several days, Richie thought over the man's progress. With the young man attacking at nearly full speed, Joe was able to guard and parry most of his techniques. Granted, Richie was keeping his forms basic and simple, but never the less, the older man was holding his own. Mr. Pavelski, however, seemed to have trouble with all but the most fundamental counters, feints, and ripostes. Another problem area was his footwork. This was especially evident in the old man's side to side movements. But these, Richie acknowledged, would take time. And besides, he was sure that Joe was learning the necessary sword skills for his survival. One thing would always be certain though. Mr. Pavelski would never be as fast or as quick as he was when he was 30. And lastly, Richie realized one additional point. Until the old man actually had to defend himself in a real situation, it was essentially impossible to predict how he would react. The young man, however, was sure that when Duncan returned, he would have far more helpful suggestions for Mr. Pavelski's lessons. In fact, MacLeod was due back in a few days. Richie was looking forward to seeing his mentor and friend again. As fortune would have it, someone else was also looking forward to meeting MacLeod. Every so often, another Immortal, aware of the growing reputation of the "Highlander" would come in search of the man. And as a participant in *The Game*, Duncan would do what his honor and centuries of training had prepared him for. This particular *searcher* was a Spaniard by the name of Oscar de Garcia Kavengas. A soldier in his youth, he became Immortal during the bloody Spanish Civil Wars of the early 1800's. Over the years, he had acquired the distinction of being a ruthless fighter and a talented swordsman. He also was known to possess a penchant for cruelty. Now, in the winter of 1996, he stood waiting in a dark alley outside of a certain multi-storied brick building. He was waiting, however, for someone who wasn't even on the same continent. Richie and Joe had just completed their evening workout, and had decided on spending a little bit of time at Dawson's bar. Exiting the door, both men were hit with the *buzz*. For a second, they looked at each other, then, all about them. Scanning the alley, they noticed a figure approaching from the shadows. As the man came into the light, his dark features became observable for the first time. "I am looking for MacLeod." The Immortal's voice was deep and slightly accented. Feeling the menace in his words, Richie instinctively reached for the hilt of his rapier. "MacLeod is not here." He responded. Next to him, Mr. Pavelski nervously glanced first at the other Immortal, then back at him. This was a situation completely alien to the old man. Even though Richie had explained the various ways of challenges, he really didn't know what to expect next. From under his coat, Kavengas withdrew a magnificent El Cid Colada. Pointing the blade towards the pair, he said, "Ah, you must be the *pet* whom I heard that MacLeod is teaching. Yes? " And then addressing Pavelski, "But Grandfather, who are you? A servant perhaps? " Before either man could answer, he went on. "You say that MacLeod is not here. No matter, your heads will do for now." Richie, his sword in his characteristic high guard position, stepped forward. "I don't think so." He responded, just as Kavengas attacked. Joe, watching the battle unfold, stood at the doorway. Feeling completely useless, he tensely gripped the cold metal piping of the stairway banister. Thrust, parry, cut, feint. Blue sparks flashed and smoldered at each contact of their swords. The techniques began happening faster than the old man could follow. For a second, Richie seemed to have the advantage, but then, a blindingly quick disengage and lunge caught the younger man on his left arm. Backing away though, Richie was somehow able to parry all of Kavengas' blows. Recovering, he again pressed the attack. Then parrying the other's blade across his body, Richie forced the opening he needed. Circling his rapier back around, he struck down onto Kavengas' sword hand, cutting deeply into the man's wrist. As the El Cid went clattering to the pavement, Richie brought his blade back and made a final thrust toward his opponents breast. In a last act of cunning, Kavengas reached to a hidden sheath on his thigh and pulled out a dirk with his left hand. His body turning from the force of the cut to his sword arm, he desperately brought the short blade up and stabbed it toward Richie's chest. Both blades found their targets, plunging into each of the Immortals' hearts. Richie lost his hold on his rapier as Kavengas fell dying to the ground. But he was no better off. The dirk was sunk to its hilt into his chest. All his strength left him, as he sank to his knees, dying himself. Horrified, Mr. Pavelski leaped off of the steps and ran to his young friend. Screaming, "NO!... RICHIE... NO!", he fell to his knees just as Richie slumped forward into his arms. Feeling the life drain away, the old man became overwhelmed with rage. In his inexperience with those things Immortal and the emotion of the moment, he forgot that Richie's death was not permanent. Rising, he turned and picked up the fallen El Cid. In two short strides, he stood over Kavengas' crumpled form. The man lay on his side, the impaled rapier preventing him from rolling onto either his back or front. His open eyes were lifeless, his mouth agape. Pavelski lifted the sword over his head, grasping the ornate pommel with both hands. Bellowing in anger, he brought the blade down through the Spaniard's exposed neck. He staggered as the sword met the unyielding surface of the pavement. Still holding the weapon, he stepped back away from the headless corpse as a swirling blue-white glow began to surround him... When the Quickening was done, Mr. Pavelski was left gasping on his knees. Feeling his strength slowly returning, he tried to make sense of the myriad images that had flooded over his consciousness. Forcing himself to his feet, he teeteringly made his way to Richie. He dropped down, seized the dirk, and withdrew it from his friend's chest. As he waited, he only now became aware of the havoc that had been reeked around him. Glass shards were everywhere, as most of the windows along the adjoining alley walls were shattered. The overhead street lights were exploded, as were the head lights of several nearby automobiles. In fact, the power seemed to be out over the entire neighborhood. Abruptly, Richie opened his eyes, inhaled, and sat up. He looked first at Joe and then at Kavengas' hapless form. He immediately realized what must have transpired. As Mr. Pavelski helped him up, they both heard a police siren wailing in the distance. Gesturing toward the Spaniard's remains, he said, "We need to get rid of... him... And then... get ourselves away from here." The next day, the lead story in the local media centered around the bizarre and devastatingly powerful lightning strike that had hit a particular section of the city the night before. All of the reports commented on the unusually localized violence of this unpredicted phenomenon. No mention was made, however, of the puddle of blood that was found at the approximate center of the disturbance. Early that evening, a few hours after the insurance claims adjuster had left, Richie and Mr. Pavelski were finishing the job of boarding up the dojo's 17 broken windows. Just as they were nailing up the last sheet of plywood, they both were hit with the *buzz* of an approaching Immortal. Turning in the direction of the doors, Richie saw the familiar form of Duncan MacLeod. Already aware that there was more than one other Immortal inside the building, the tall Scot slowly walked through the doors. Taking in the disarray around him, he looked at Richie, waiting for an explanation. As the young man grinned at him, Duncan thought, ' Well, this should be good.' Stepping forward, Richie was saying, "Mac, there is somebody I want you to meet..." End of Part 5 of 5 =========================================================================