Part 7 Amanda

This gets a little ugly

It was very much like fighting the Kurgan. His huge opponent wasn't as skilled but it again was taking all Connor's strength to meet the sword swung down at him.

The giant's strategy was clear. He was adept defensively, helped by the length of his blade. His attacks were crude but all too effective at what they were designed to do. After only a few minutes, the force of the blows was wearing Connor out. His shoulders and arms protested each time he raised his sword.

Breathing heavily, Connor eyed his smiling enemy. He wasn't Duncan, he couldn't close and rely on martial arts to offset superior size and strength. He wasn't Methos to use a near-fatal wound to advantage. The giant wouldn't take risks – he didn't need to. Where was a shapely redhead with a crowbar when you needed one?

Then the answer came. Connor wasn't an artist like his brother. He was just a brawler. But that included boxing. Not boxing with those ridiculous puffy gloves they used now but true boxing – bare fisted. When faced with someone much larger than you and bare fists, you didn't slug it out. You danced.

Connor began to circle, moving more quickly and not letting his opponent engage. First, the giant chased him, then he stopped scowling, "Stand and fight."

"I'm fighting, you're the one standing." The smart thing for the giant to do would be to continue to stand, not to play into Connor's hands. The Highlander wanted to avoid that. In Connor's experience, giants came in two types: gentle and explosive, with the latter not accustomed to being insulted because their size scared everyone off. He hoped immortal giants had the same traits.

"That's an awfully large sword you've got. Does holding it make you feel better about . . . you know . . . that other problem?"

There were scattered guffaws, mostly female. Amanda was in there pitching for him, bless her. Sure enough, his opponent was infuriated by the sophomoric barb. He charged Connor just as before, only this time Connor danced backward, then tried a sideways lunge the giant barely parried. Oh, this was much more promising. No painful jolt to the shoulder and a weakness in his enemy's defense. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw his brother smiling his approval.

Minutes passed, the immortals grew restless, and the watchers outright bored. It was difficult for someone of Connor's temperament to be patient but he couldn't take the bait of the giant's increasingly labored breathing. It was almost certainly a trap and, even when the giant became legitimately tired, Connor had to be careful to avoid getting his sword locked up and having the giant hit him. The Highlander had used this tactic many times himself and he didn't have 300+lbs behind his blows.

When it became obvious the Highlander was winning, the giant stopped pursuing. Half a dozen wounds from "jabs" by Connor had already healed but half a dozen more still bled. The giant would wait, he would recover fully, and the battle would start all over again. You didn't get this far by being completely stupid.

Connor couldn't allow it. A moment after the giant's body language indicated he had enough of Connor's boxing lesson, the Highlander charged. His swing at the neck was parried, of course, and the two blades met in exactly the kind of close combat the smaller man should have avoided. Smiling again, the giant put his free hand to Connor's neck. He might not be able to strangle the Highlander outright with one hand but he could cut off his air enough to gain a decisive advantage.

Instead of trying to bat the hand off or backing away, Connor plunged his finger tips, in a strike position, into the most promising of the giant's healing wounds. He had learned enough martial arts to add some zest to the blow. The giant groaned and instinctively moved to protect the weak spot, leaving his sword in poor position. Connor took the quickest blow he had, straight down to the giant's left foot.

A good chunk of which was thus separated from the rest. The giant howled and stumbled and blood shot everywhere. In the distance, several watchers lost their binoculars and then lost their dinners. Before his opponent could try to get his balance, Connor was on him. His attack was fairly cautious but it gave the giant no chance to just stand and fight, his only hope with half a foot missing. A few seconds later, there was another serious wound. Then another. Then it was over.

The quickening was shorter and less violent than the two preceding. The giant had taken a fair number of heads but was as young as he seemed. As it ended, Connor was cursing. He needed more power.

He hobbled over to Duncan and Amanda, "Thanks to both of you." He gave them the famous smile, which hadn't been seen much recently. Duncan left Amanda's side for the first time in many hours to clasp his brother's shoulders. Almost immediately afterward, with his back to her, he froze. It was time.

Amanda took Duncan's sword by the hilt and handed it to him. It hung in the air. She stepped toward him, he stepped back. "Duncan . . ."

"I can't. I know I said I would but there's no chance. I can't."

"Then she'll take my head. My memories with Rebecca. My love for you. My life will have been a waste. Or my quickening can help you save the world." Amanda resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at her own statement. She had to die coaxing Duncan to play boy scout? Hadn't she spent enough of her life doing that?

Duncan knew her well enough to see the suppressed smirk on her face and exclaimed, "I can't believe you! You're impossible!"

She shrugged. "Might as well die the way I lived. Besides, that's why you love me."

"Yes, that's what I love you. That's why I've loved you for centuries."

She extended the sword again, "Show me." And this time he took it.

The others had backed away, whether to give them privacy or avoid the quickening or both. Duncan took the sword and pulled her into his arms. It wasn't the best kiss she had ever had, Amanda thought, but it was pretty good. And it was with the right person. Not the worst way to go.

After a very long embrace, she stepped back. She cocked her head slightly and smiled the same blinding smile she gave him centuries earlier. Right before she robbed him. For the first time.

Duncan knew he mustn't make her wait. The blow was as fast and as clean as he could make it. His tears began to flow before the quickening struck,

"AMANDAAAA!"

Joe Dawson wiped his eyes. A friend dead. His best friend suffering terribly. He collected himself and told the watchers to split up and return to their stations. "What about the last challenge?"

"If it isn't on the way already, those yells are going to bring company. They may be safe inside that compound but we aren't. We need to go."

As the quickening faded, Duncan became visible. He had Amanda's blood all over him and a visage that would frighten a serial killer. Connor nudged Methos, "Still think he's not enough of a warrior, old man?"

The three of them left as the last challenge, between the two women, started. They had no interest. Not a word was said on the way back. As they reached the hotel, Methos stopped Duncan, "I'll take your room. You stay with Connor."

Duncan nodded – his room with Amanda. Then he broke down. Connor held him upright and murmured to him while he wept.

"But what's the point, Connor, what's the point? Even if one of us wins, we'll be alone. What good is the prize if Amanda's dead, if you're dead. Why am I doing this? Why have I done any of it? Why?"

After a few more moments, Duncan straightened, "Take my head. Right now. It's late, we'll find an alley, and Methos' friend can protect you." Connor just looked at him.

"Then you do it, Methos. My head and you win the Prize, I know you've thought that."

"Not now, MacLeod."

Duncan grabbed him, "Yes, now!"

"No. In the morning, if you still want me to take your head, I will. Or Connor can. But not now, while you're sick with grief."

"You think I'll be all better in a few hours? What difference will it make if I am? So I'll live until the next challenge. And if I win tomorrow night, maybe Connor will die. Will you give me a few hours to get over that, too?!"

Methos allowed Duncan to manhandle him. He kept his voice even and his face calm, "You have Amanda's quickening. Don't you want to have some time?"

At her name, Duncan looked as if he was going to slug his friend. Then he put his hand on his sword. Finally, his shoulders fell and he closed his eyes. "Come Duncan," Connor led him inside, nodding slightly to Methos.

Methos watched until they were out of sight, then took out his hand computer. He sent a message, "How many?" turned the machine off, and headed in himself. It had been a rough night, and not just for Macleod.

End part 7