Date: Sun, 11 Feb 1996 21:57:11 -0500 Reply-To: NSumsion@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: "Nathan R. Sumsion" Subject: The Value of Friends (2b/10) The Value of Friends part 2b of 10 by Nathan R. Sumsion PORTLAND, OREGON. 1996. The other Immortal arrived right on time. His car screeched to a halt and he vaulted out of the vehicle, not even bothering to turn off the headlights or wipers. August saw Stephen Donaldson running towards him through the light rain. August whispered into the microphone in his collar. "Steady, Conrad. Only on my mark." The man hidden in the nearby trees muttered an, "Affirmative." "You bastard," Donaldson screamed at August, his words voicing the tears that the rain hid on his face. "Why have you done this?" He didn't even wait for an answer, swinging savagely at August. The blow was easily parried. "Why?" August replied, amused. "Because it hurts you, my friend. No other reason. Merely because it hurts." August blocked a few more blows. His opponent was attacking avidly, but either grief or simply lack of skill was affecting his swordplay. Through all of August's study of Donaldson, the weeks of watching and learning, he had never actually seen the man fight. And now... ...now August was disappointed. His opponent was no match for him. "I would have fought you had you challenged me," Donaldson said, anger and loss driving his attacks, as blow after blow rained down on the man who had ruined his life. But nothing he did was penetrating the other's defenses. "You only had to challenge me," he sobbed. "But that would have been entirely too easy. Hardly worth the effort." August tired of parrying the man's simple attacks. They were on grass turned slick with the continuing rain. He shifted abruptly from a defensive posture to a quick attack. He took two strides forward, clashing blades with Donaldson, driving him back. Donaldson slipped in the grass, his shoulder slamming roughly off a rock half-buried in the ground. August slashed his other shoulder with a blow that could have been easily avoided. August turned from the man on the ground and began to stride away. He spoke into his microphone. "Go ahead and pack it in, Conrad. You won't be needed." Donaldson screamed as he rose from the ground. "Come back here! Don't you even think of leaving! Only one of us will be leaving here." August turned back, a grim smile on his face. "True, my friend, but I highly doubt that it will be you." Donaldson slashed from the right and August parried with his left hand and, stepping in under his opponent's reach, punched him solidly in the face with his right hand. He felt the nose crush under the impact of the blow and blood erupted over Stephen's face. The man stumbled backwards, blinking furiously to try and clear his vision. August feinted with his blade. As Donaldson rose his sword to meet the blade, his feet were kicked out from under him. Again he was on the ground, struggling to rise before his opponent could take advantage of his fall. Both men were soaked, the rain coming down even harder now. Only the headlights from the nearby car and a streetlight about a block away provided any useful light. Donaldson was breathing harshly. Both his shoulders ached and, though his nose was mending, it hurt abominably. He was almost up to his feet again when August was directly in front of him. The man moved so damned fast... August drove his blade to the hilt into his opponent's stomach, wrenching the blade side-to-side to increase the pain. Stephan gasped and, despite his attempts otherwise, his sword dropped to the ground from nerveless fingers. He looked into the face of August Wilmont, and he wept that he would not avenge his love this night. He spat in the man's face, and was amused, in a detached way, that there was more blood than saliva. August placed his foot on the man's chest and wrenched his sword free. Donaldson fell to the ground, struggling to remain conscious. He looked up through dimming vision to see August raise his sword up. "Damn you..." he whispered. The sword came down. "Damn you, Donaldson," August said in the calm before the Quickening to come. "You could have at least made this fight worth the effort in orchestrating it." And then there was an explosion of power. Lightning came down from the sky, energy crackled up from the fallen body, both converging into the figure of August Wilmont. He screamed in triumph and in pain as blue energy filled him and left him, striking trees and the nearby car. He shook in laughter and in agony, loving and hating every moment of the glorious transfer of power from one Immortal to another. Finally, seconds later, it was over. He knelt on the ground, in the mud and wet grass and blood. He brought himself raggedly to his feet as the other man entered the clearing, a rifle with a large scope balanced on his shoulder. "Nice." "Thank you, Conrad. I'm sorry you were not needed tonight." The other man slouched, unconcerned. "I'm wet. You gonna stand here in the rain much longer or what?" August began to leave and Conrad followed in his wake. "No. We're leaving." "Going to California now?" Conrad asked, not really caring what the answer, just eager to put his services to use. "Yes," August smiled, ferally. "Now to San Jose, after a more dangerous opponent. A victory that will be much more satisfying." He looked to the south, his smile infecting even his indifferent companion. August uttered the name like a prayer. "Jacob Hamilton." ******************************* End part two. Please send any comments to me at NSumsion@aol.com =========================================================================