Date: Tue, 31 Oct 1995 00:52:36 -0500 Reply-To: Hobert@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: K Robnett Subject: WANTING TO GET A HEAD, Part 3 of 3 ---------------- Duncan found the campfire in no time. The distinct smell of smoke led them straight to it. As they crept closer, Duncan managed to make out the lone figure in the clearing, weaving around with a sword. The figure rarely stopped, giving him no chance to make out any distinguishing features. But he, or she, was Immortal, and apparently damn good. Cautioning Tessa to stay hidden, the Highlander stepped into the light, katana at the ready. It was useless to hide, the annoying sense already giving away his presence. The figure stopped and turned, almost causing Duncan to drop his sword. It was Richie. The splint on the arm was gone, and the jacket fully zipped. The young man tossed the saber between his hands, giving no sign the arm had been broken only hours ago. The blue eyes were mysteriously gray, or the firelight was playing tricks. Had Richie been Awakened after the crash? And where the Hell did he find a sword? "I'm sure you were expecting someone else," Richie calmly said, giving a believable court bow. Duncan returned it, wondering where to begin. "I'm sure you know this one by a different name, but from now on, you may call me Ivan." "Where's Richie," Duncan blurted, unsure where things stood. "The boy? You'd best forget about him." Richie slowly moved around the fire, saber ready. "He was pathetically easy to overcome. And such a reward." To underscore his words, Richie flexed his torso, obviously relishing the movement. "I couldn't have planned to find better body." Duncan was still confused. "You're an Immortal?" he asked, redundantly, trying to draw Richie out. The Highlander circled, keeping the flame between them. Richie smiled. "Oh, yes," he said, feinting to the right. "I was an avid player of the Game, until I fought a Chinese priest. He told me I would be cursed if I decapitated him. Said I would never find Death. I thought he was crazy." The teenager shuddered, recalling the moment. "When I lost my head to a cannonball during your Revolution, I found out how sane he was. It is amazing how shocking it can be to lose one's head and not die. True immortality." The young man laughed. "I guess I should have learned who not to behead, but I never was a patient person." "Why Richie?" Duncan asked, not liking this story at all. "BECAUSE I NEEDED HIS HEAD," the teenager shouted in anger, his face flushing. "I don't advise going through life without a head. A pumpkin is no real substitute." With a yell, Richie dove through the flames, attacking Duncan. Backpedaling, the Highlander parried, until he finally trapped the saber against a tree. "Why are you here? Hiding in this valley?" Now Duncan was angry, convinced that something terrible was going on. The young man wasn't delusional, or schizophrenic, but truly possessed. The teenager's eyes flamed. "I managed to make it this far in the schoolteacher's body. Somehow, one of the local natives discovered my secret, and trapped me here." With a jerk, the saber pulled free, Richie bringing the sword up for another attack. "The whole place is surrounded by ash trees, which I cannot pass without a host. Chrane's body was destroyed, returning me to my accursed state, and I've been trapped here for centuries, WAITING FOR ANOTHER!" The young man began a second series of attacks that Duncan parried, but he was still pressed backwards, into the woods. "Now I've found an Immortal body, one that won't die on me. I'm free of my curse, and to celebrate, I'll take your head!" It was difficult for Duncan to fight, knowing the only way to stop Richie permanently was to take his head, an option the Highlander wasn't ready to make. Even if he was successful, it still wouldn't stop whatever this thing was. Richie would be dead, forever, and "Ivan" would be looking for a new body. Tessa or mine, Duncan thought. And how does one kill a headless Immortal? Duncan dove to the side, kicking out at Richie's sword arm, driving it toward a tree. With a scream, the young man dropped the saber, clutching at his wrist. "It's an ash," Duncan whispered under his breath. With a yell, he plowed into Richie, driving the teenager into the tree. Richie screamed when his back came into contact with the wood. He struggled, but the teenaged body was no match for Duncan's. The hate flamed in the gray eyes as Richie drove his knee into the Highlander's groin. In pain, Duncan pressed harder, feeling the trembles of agony wracking the young man. "Du...Duncan?" Richie stuttered, a look of terror in his now blue eyes. "Wh...why are..." he gasped. Duncan held him harder, trying to press the flesh into the ash tree. "Please...st...stop," Richie whispered, but the Highlander wouldn't listen. Sweat dripped from the youth, black as tar. It erupted from his very pores, dripping down his skin as he whimpered in agony. "Da...daddy. Do...don't hu...hurt mee..." Black smoke poured from his mouth and nostrils as he cried, his voice high and strained. With a final yell, the youth's body went limp, his skin pale and clammy. Duncan no longer felt the presence of an Immortal from Richie. He let up, gently lowering Richie to the ground. "Tessa," the Highlander called, the woman appearing at his elbow in seconds. "Get him past the bridge. You should be safe." She started to argue as Duncan helped her lift the teenager. "Do it. I'll deal with whatever that thing is." He could still feel the Immortal, waiting. "Go," he urged, propelling the pair along the stream. The Highlander stood his ground, his back pressed against the ash tree. No birds sang, no crickets chirped. Only the still silence of death. Chancing a look, Duncan eased his head around the tree. Suddenly, a large black stallion loomed in front of him, hooves striking at his face. A large surge of adrenaline hit as he swung the katana, aiming for the mount. His sword slid effortlessly through the apparition like it was smoke. Haunted laughter echoed in his ears as the horse and rider moved away, only to come at him from a different direction, almost silently in the woods. Duncan panicked, hoping he had bought enough time for his companions. Realizing the sword was useless against the phantasm chasing him, he tossed his katana aside. A quick breath, and he was off, running through the woods toward the bridge. His only hope of safety was to pass it before the specter caught him. He heard the throbbing of hoof beats behind him, could almost imagine the hot breath of the stallion on his neck. With each yard, he gritted his teeth harder, willing more of his power to his legs. His stride lengthened, the rhythm embraced as he weaved among the trees. With a jump, he entered the clearing around the deserted house, heading for the overgrown track. Hideous laughter chased him, the chill winds evaporating the sweat off his bare arms even as it formed. All his attentions were focused on the path, lit by moonlight. His thoughts centered on one foot in front of the other, over and over again. Nagging doubts about Richie, worry over Tessa, fears of his fate were set aside. There, ahead, was the bridge. And right behind him, the labored breathing of the horse and rider. "Mac," he heard Richie shout. Instinctively, he ducked. A large object passed over his head, impacting and shattering on the far side of the bridge, splattering orange goo on the planks. Terrified of stepping in it, Duncan leaped off the end of the bridge, tumbling as he landed on the ground. He had just enough time to jerk his head up and watch the ghostly form of the horse and headless rider leap after him, jumping through the space between the ash poles. The specter screamed, his black, smoky form wavering in the air. It was if dirty water was being passed through a sieve, so to the dark spirit slowly turned into the white, pure energy of a Quickening from front to back. The first crackle of energy sped to the Highlander, pounding him into the dirt as it struck. His body arched as the terrible power coursed over it, a scream ripped from his lungs. "Duncan," Tessa cried out, struggling against Richie to run to her lover. "Tess, no," Richie begged. "You can't help him." The two watched, powerless, as the lightning ventured out, striking the trees, the poles, even the stream. Huge geysers of water shot up on either side of the bridge, raining down on the writhing Immortal. With one last agonized scream, Duncan's body convulsed as the bridge exploded in a fiery ball of flame, shooting skyward. Duncan fell limp, his voice silenced. The explosion stopped, and no more tendrils of lightning appeared. It was then Richie let go of Tessa, watching her frantically run to the Highlander, cradling him in her arms. She called his name over and over, fearful of what had happened. If Richie had not witnessed it before, he probably would be scared as well. It took Duncan a moment, but he managed to struggle to his feet, Tessa helping him. The dark woods were quiet, but peaceful this time. "It's over," the Immortal told them, motioning for Richie to come over. Fearful, the young man did. "We won't let you get away from us so easily, Richie Ryan," he announced, pulling the teenager into the hug. "You're part of our family, now. For better or worse. Just don't lose faith in us." They stood like that for an hour, until the sun rose over the mountains. Search and Rescue found them three hours later. EPILOGUE (The Future) "I want you to beg," David Keogh spat, his words surrounded by ragged breath. The sword was poised, ready for the final blow at an unprotected neck. It was cold in the dark alleyway, steam from unseen pipes billowing all around them. "After all you've done to me, I want to hear you plead for forgiveness!" Duncan MacLeod didn't grace his opponent with a reply. For the twentieth time in the last minute, he glanced at his katana, lying too far away. Nothing was left that could save him, no trick, no move. Even no mercy. He knelt, waiting for the end. It was not long in coming. "There...can...be...only...ONE!" David cried as he swung. The Highlander closed his eyes, his only acknowledgment of defeat. The whistling of the blade as it cut the air reached his ears, then...nothing. Duncan rose to his feet, unsure of what had just happened. He felt no pain, only a small knot of tension deep inside. The alleyway had turned even darker, the air finally still, but cold. Stumbling around, the Highlander tried to find his sword. He could see only David, kneeling in the middle of the alley, arms outstretched. Waiting for a Quickening, Duncan imagined. It was strange. David was almost glowing a sickly green, his shirt being whipped by the strong breeze. Duncan didn't feel the wind, or even hear it. He only felt...a loss. David rested, glad the fight was over. It had been hard, wrestling against the few remaining feelings for his old friend, but certain things had to be avenged. And now, he could have the luxury of regrets. He waited for the inevitable Quickening, preparing himself for the onrush of power he knew Duncan had collected. MacLeod. The name tripped over his tongue silently as his eyes darted toward the decapitated head only a few feet in front of him. Poor old Duncan. It was a surprise to feel a hand on his shoulder, instead of the faint tickling of power he was expecting. David turned to look. And then screamed. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Comments are welcome at hobert@aol.com Happy Halloween For more information on CPR and other life-saving techniques, contact your local library, law enforcement, Red Cross, or medical facility. The life you save may be someone you love. SHAMELESS PLUG - Want more Richie? Did you know there's only 54 more shopping days till Christmas? Have you purchased a copy of the fanzine "Richie Forever" for your wife, brother, secretary? E-mail GrinnyP@aol.com or slane@sunbird.usd.edu for details. The Richieholic in your life will thank you for it. =========================================================================