Date: Fri, 4 Nov 1994 21:28:04 EST Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: the dungeon of souls Subject: "Unwelcome Inheritance" Act II, part 4 "Unwelcome Inheritance" by Caile Donachaidh Kane Act II, part 4 comments (&flames) to _Part 4_ The next morning came too soon. Shae woke up early, and sat looking at Duncan's sleeping figure for a long time. He looked like a little boy. A little boy with a five o'clock shadow, but a little boy no less. All the stress was gone from his face, he looked innocent and free of worries. After a while she went out to the couch - watching someone you care for asleep becomes unnerving after a while. Almost scary, she reflected, especially when you start speculating on the contents of his dreams. Once away from the bed, she sat on the couch and looked at the swords. The weariness she felt towards their messages was the closest she'd ever come to hating them . It was impossible, though, to hate them. Her eyes rested on the papers on the coffee table. Duncan had not shown them to her, only frowned and and paced. He was frustrated, she could tell. He'd promised to help find out what was going on, and she could see that he felt like he was letting her down. Maybe she could help. She gathered up the papers and flipped through them, coming across his notes on the women warriors. Now *this* was interesting. Why had he not mentioned it? She took up a pen and marked the names Timiko, Ashe, and Tajoe. Timiko had been a samurai - and she'd had the vision from Japan. Tajoe was Gallic, *that* also made sense because, after further thought, she was almost certain that the language Darius had been speaking was Old French. And Ashe, being unkown, was a definate possibility. Ashe. Something familiar about the name, had she heard it spoken before? Ashe. "Find anything interesting?" Duncan said behind her. He leaned over and kissed her behind the ear. "It all looks like dead ends to me." She passed the list to him. "I want to know more about the ones I've marked. If you can get ahold of that legend file, that is." "I called Joe, he said he'd bring it by this afternoon." "Good. I want to get started then." He circled around the couch so that he was facing her. "Are you sure? We can just forget about it if you want." "I didn't put myself through all of that to give up now. I want to try another katana. And I haven't done the family sabre yet." "Okay. Let's go then, shall we?" Shae nodded. "The katana. The 34 'n' 3/4, with the black on black handle." If she was expecting Japan again, she was disappointed. A garden. Box hedges winding around... a *maze*, not a garden. To the heart of it, sun beating down from the sky, heat from flagstones beneath bare feet. In the centre, blinding sun falshing off a blade wielded by an unpractised hand. A laugh like wind chimes, floating through the dry air. So hot... so tired... The boy smiles, shaking back fair locks. Cutting a rose from the bush beside, the blood red rose falls to the stones beneath. Pick it up, give it to him. With a sinking feeling, Shae recognised the fair-haired boy from her dream, and took her hands from the sword. The vision faded. Wordlessly, Duncan took the sword from her , and watched as she sat chewing her lower lip, with an expression that was a mix of puzzlement and apprehension. It wasn't the vision itself that was making Shae feel ill. It was the foreknowledge that the boy was going to die, even after being so clearly favoured, and it seemed to her that he would die at her own hand. Although she realised she wasn't actually the one who'd killed him... It *felt* that way. Shae smiled weakly at Duncan. He gazed back with sympathetic eyes. She told him the vision. He sat back , frowning, deep in thought. After a long time, he spoke. "What's next?" She shrugged. "The sabre. It's so old. Perhaps I'll get something that makes more sense." "What about the broadsword? You said it was 15th century." "But the sabre is 12th century, by Kobayashi's estimate." "You've got a point." Duncan picked up the the sabre, admiring it again. Flawless workmanship. And so few chinks in the blade. So few scratches in the finish. He blinked stupidly. God, now _this_ _is_ _a_ _lead_. "When was the last time this sword was used?' Shae thought a moment. "*I've* never used it. And neither has my mother. Nor my grandmere, or her mother before her. Before that, I don't know." He held up the sword so that she could see the blade. "Here. Look at this blade. It's hardly been used at all." "What?" "Here, let me show you something." Still holding the sabre, he went and got his own sword. Returning, he sat down beside Shae and showed her the blades. "See my blade? It's been used thousands of times. I don't mean to sound crude, but it's been through flesh and bone time and again. It's been cracked against other blades at least a million times. It's nicked, scratched, and chipped. It looks, frankly, like hell, no matter how well I take care of it. And it's been around only *half* as long as this." He held up the sabre. "Now look at *this* blade. It's old, very old. But it's in nearly perfect condition. It's been used maybe ten times. Twenty at the maximum. And there are no new nicks - all are as old as the sword itself." "That's so strange, I never noticed before. Of course, it's almost never taken from its rack." Duncan nodded. "I almost overlooked it myself." He studied the blade again. "It's almost as if it was used briefly, then, I don't know, cast aside. Do you know how your family came by it?" "No, I told you, it's just always been here. I assume it was a gift, women didn't just go out and buy swords in the 12th century." "Very true. Are you ready?" Shae looked at the sword. "Yes," she said at last. "Give it to me." The first second of the vision felt as though the wind was being knocked out of her. Then a room, a large dimly lit room. This is more like a dream than a vision... Sword in hand. She looked down. It was the sabre. A person was standing in the shadows, the woman stepped forward. Not an immortal. A familiar woman in a white shift. The portrait, hissed a subconcious voice. "Are you certain you wish to do this?" "Yes, Elisabeth, there is no disuading me." She handed the sword to the woman. "You've been faithful to me, just do this one more thing." She paused. "Just keep my sword as you promised, and keep your other promise, as well." "I will." Elisabeth's eyes filled with tears. "I will miss you." "I will miss *you*. Come, Elisabeth, it's time." They walked from the room, into a long hall, down a flight of stone steps, out into a flagstone courtyard. The moonlight filtred down through the clouds to glow upon low mists. Small trees and rose bushes formed eerie sentinels around the high stone wall. She went to the centre of the court and knelt, beckoning to Elisabeth, who came with the sword. "Do not go back on your word." Elisabeth smiled bravely through her tears. "My word on my life." She raised the sabre. "Go with God, my friend." Just as the blow was struck, Shae came hurtling back to the present with a gasp. The sabre tumbled to the floor. She kicked it aside, staring in contempt at the glittering blade. She felt more shocked than frightened. Duncan looked at her, with more than a little aprehension this time. He couldn't imagine what she had seen, or felt. But a protective instinct told him: something's very wrong, you must help her. He settled for a simple question. "What?" It came out a whisper. Shae swallowed, wide-eyed, turning to him with a still horrified expression. "I... I *died*, Duncan," she stammered. "I was killed. With *this* sword." She kicked at the sabre again. "And I *asked* her to do it." At this point, the tears came. "Why? I don't understand! And the woman was so familiar... Elisabeth, that was her name." She jumped to her feet and began pacing, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Elisabeth... the portrait. When I first saw her, I thought 'the portrait'." Duncan looked confused. "Portrait? Of this Elisabeth?" "Yes, I think... Of course!" she exclaimed. "In my grandemere's house, above the fireplace in the sitting room. There's an absolutely *ancient* portrait, no one knows how old, and we never bothered to have it dated. I don't know why. It's of one of my grandmothers, God only knows how many generations back." "Elisabeth?" "YES! Duncan, that's it! It's engraved on a plate on the frame - Elisabeth Taylor. That's got to be the connection!" "But how does that explain anything? One of your ancestors was the friend of an immortal. She was asked to kill this person, and did. It's a start, but how does that explain what's happening to you?" "I don't know," she replied simply. "But at least I've got a feeling of hope now." She sat down beside him and took his hands in hers. "This is the closest I've been to knowing, and I feel wonderful about it. Besides," she added with a smirk. "I know you're a cynic by nature, but couldn't you look on the bright side just once?" He smiled and shook his head. "I'm not a cynic by nature, I've just gotten jaded in my old age." He kissed her. "And right now, I feel more towards 800 than 400. We've had a damn long morning." "Yes, we have." She kissed him back, softly. "But it's farther than we've ever gotten before." They lay in each other's arms for a long time, thinking their own thoughts. He was thinking about the file that Joe would be bringing by soon, wondering what there was to learn from it. She was thinking about Duncan, and wondering if she'd have to leave him when this was over. She supposed she could use the visions as an excuse to hold on to him, but then rebuked herself for the very thought. She could never lie to him, never use him. Then she bit her lip and wondered how *he* felt about *her*. Was he, too, trying to find a way to make it last. Charlie's voice came over the intercom by the elevator. "MacLeod?" Dawson's here to see you. I sent him up." A second later, Joe opened the grille and stepped into the room. Shae reluctantly extracted herself from Duncan's arms and stood up. He did, as well. "Good afternoon, MacLeod." Joe said with a nod and smile. "Miss Taylor." "Hi, Joe. You have the file?" "Right here." He held up the folder. "Great," Duncan said, taking it from him. "Since you said you were particularly interested in the women, I put only their stories in there." "Thanks, Joe, this'll be a great help." "You mind telling me what this is about? I could get thrown out of the order for this." he looked at Duncan expaectantly. Duncan lowered his eyes and thought for a moment. Joe was a good person, well-meaning. But he was still a Watcher... "I'm sorry, Joe. It's between Shae and I." Dawson raised his hand in a defensive gesture. "Say no more. But I get the feeling this is something our historians would just love." Duncan grinned. "You may be right. But we'll never know, *will* we?" "If there's one thing I know how to do, is's how to keep a secret, MacLeod." He smiled at Shae. "I must be going. Good day, Miss Taylor, Duncan." "Good day," Shae replied. "I'll see you," said Duncan. Dawson left with a wave and a frin. As soon as he was gone, Shae pounced on the folder. "Easy now. Let's not rip it to shreds in our hurry, hmmm?" He took the folder back from her. "Let's not be so condecending, hmmm?" Shae returned. She snatched the folder back. "If you don't behave..." "What are you going to do, take away my birthday?" She dropped down on the couch and opened the folder. She shuffled absently through the pages. Duncan sat down beside her, and she snuggled close, but didn't ake her eyes from the file. Tajoe was the one she was betting on... Oh, here 'tis. Tajoe, Gallic warrior, 407 to 1043. Six hundred thirty-six years. She'd lived throughout Gaul and Britain. The legend surrounding her was concerning the way she killed, the way she took heads. Apparently, as a seductress, she was irresistible. Immortal men eould believe her her harmless, until she caught them unarmed and killed them. According to the legend, she also killed a number of mortal men that way as well. Hmm. "It's not consistent," Shae said aloud. Duncan looked puzzled. "What isn't?" He hadn't been reading over her shoulder, just nuzzling her neck. "Tajoe. I was almost certain it was her, until now, that it. She would seduce other immortals before she killed them. And she liked killing mortals, too." He nodded. "I see. The person from your visions only killed when she had to, and took no pleasure in it." "Tajoe was very... bloodthirsty, according to the legend." He tilted his head. "Keep in mind these records are kind of biased." "Possibly." She sat back against him, still reading. Then she shook her head. "It just just can't be. It says here Darius tried to stop her, that she hated him. And... she was killed by another immortal." "That's definately out. Who's next?" "Timiko, the samurai." Shae found the story and began reading. Timiko was a fierce warrior, both loved and feared by mortals and immortals alike. Timiko. 664 to 1181. She was very beautiful and very powerful. Legend had it that she was invincible. She had been killed by... a *mortal*. During the Minamoto-Taira conflict. "That fits," she murmured. But does it not say *how* she died? Was it in battle? No, nothing. "Damn." He kissed her cheek. "Now what?" "Timiko... it all fits, she was even killed by a mortal. But it doesn't say whether or not it was in battle. Just that it was in Japan." "Was your ancestor likely to be in Japan?" "It's possible. We've always been wanderers." "Possible, but is it *probable*?" Shae shrugged. "I don't know." He shrugged back. "Exactly. You don't know. You can only go on what you *do* know." He sighed and hugged her to him. She relaxed and let him rock her, while he kissed her hair. After a moment or two, he asked: "Wasn't there a third? That you wanted to find out about?" "Yes, and probably just as wrong as the other two. I'll look over it later." She tossed the file aside and got to her feet, pulling Duncan up with her. "Come on," she said. "Let's go downstairs and do battle, until I relax." "Is that the *only* way you can relax??" he replied with a leer. She shook her head as she pulled on her gloves and took up the lion katana. "That's the way I was *taught* to relax." **************** further parts will be forthcoming golly do my fingers hurt =========================================================================