Part 29 Rematch
Warning for UGLINESS AT THE END. Also: apologies for the delay. This is very difficult fight to write, since we've already seen it at length on the big screen. I've already written part of the next chapter so it should come more quickly.
As Duncan approached his brother and the Kurgan, he grew more puzzled. The two had been dancing around each other for quite some time now and still were. Neither of them was exactly subtle – why the delay?
They noticed him and both lowered their swords, "About time," came the Kurgan's baritone.
Duncan turned expectantly to Connor, who smiled, "It seems my old comrade here doesn't trust you. When you refused to fight Kane, he thought we were looking for a two-on-one. I told him that MacLeods fight their own battles, but he still wants a pledge that you won't take his head while he's down with my quickening. Distrusting and forgetful; he doesn't remember what happened last time we met."
The Kurgan merely growled. He pointed to Connor but faced Duncan, "I kept my word to him and Grayson kept his word to you. Can you fulfill your vow after I kill your brother?"
"I have never killed an immortal down with a quickening and I never will." Duncan grinned and turned to the older Highlander, "So, Connor, don't worry about me taking your head after you win." They both chuckled while the Kurgan was expressionless.
Connor tilted his sword at the Kurgan, then raised it above his head, "So, you hairy oaf, are you going to stop running now? No more excuses, no more mortals to kidnap, no more hiding behind giant neon signs?"
The giant roared and charged faster than Duncan would have thought possible for someone his size. He looked in his ancient armor like nothing so much as a very large bird of prey. He brought his sword down toward Connor's skull with such violence Duncan was worried even his brother's marvelously crafted blade would give way. It did not, but the riposte was parried so quickly and forcefully that the Highlander fell back slightly.
Duncan had asked Connor about his first fight with the Kurgan, asked about it again, and asked about it again. He felt as if he had a pretty good picture of what had happened. If that picture was accurate, one thing had clearly changed: both his brother and the Kurgan were moving much more quickly. Connor's version of the first round was a slugfest, with the smaller Scot struggling against greater size and strength. This looked more like one of his own workouts with Connor: rapid movements back and forth, with minor wounds inflicted and ignored. The speed at which the surviving immortals healed now made it almost impossible to wear someone down; the battle would have to be won decisively.
As they swept up and down the compound, Duncan thought the two evenly matched in skill. He knew very well, though, that the Kurgan had more depth of experience. He could introduce a technique Connor hadn't seen before. They were both natural born warriors to an extent even Duncan envied. Connor had not yet had the opportunity to reveal his newly reduced vulnerability but neither had the Kurgan shown the strength they had seen against Joshua. It was going to be tough for his brother.
The thought snapped Duncan back to what he should have been doing: watching the Kurgan for weakness, either to help his brother or to help himself. It was possible that both Connor and Methos would win, he could keep them from each other's throats, and they could figure some way to neutralize the pull of the Gathering. No Prize for anyone, no threat to humanity.
But more likely either the Kurgan or Kane would survive. If both of them won, the fate of the world would rest on Duncan defeating the Kurgan and gaining enough power thereby to see through Kane's tricks. Even if just the Kurgan won, Methos might not be finished with Kane or his arm might not be fully healed. One Highlander or the other had to defeat the Kurgan. They had to.
Unfortunately, Duncan couldn't yet see how it was going to be done. The Kurgan was clearly very angry, most likely the accumulation of frustration over his vow to Connor not to hurt mortals. He may not be the most polished of swordsmen but he still wasn't making any mistakes Duncan could see. And Duncan knew that the blows his brother was parrying were heavy enough to send shocks up one's arm to the shoulder. Connor was much stronger than when he first fought the Kurgan but how long could he hold out?
Hand to hand combat was out of the question, of course. Connor didn't have Duncan's skills and Duncan himself would be using his martial arts and his enhanced agility to run, not fight. Closing with the Kurgan at this point had been shown to be suicidal.
It was also worrying that Connor wasn't talking. Taunting an already angry opponent increased the probability they would make a mistake, but his brother was silent. Either he was too absorbed in the battle himself or he was already too winded.
Even so, he was holding his own and the Kurgan had demonstrated in his duel with Joshua that patience was not one of his two or three virtues. Rumbles of frustration began to be heard from the giant's chest – he wanted satisfaction and he wanted it now. Duncan thought he saw the tiniest of smirks on Connor's face.
But he still didn't see any sort of strategy; Connor didn't appear to be trying to do anything in particular. It was now a fast-paced, impressive battle to be sure but still not what Duncan expected this late in the Gathering, and one which seemed to have no flow to it. First to trip over a rock, loses?
Duncan tried to find Kane but saw only Methos, walking, talking, and occasionally defending himself. When his eyes returned to the duel in front of him, the Kurgan had picked up the pace a bit. He was finally using his strength, alternating between his sword and his limbs in delivering blows. The feet, hands, elbows, and knees seemed to be doing a better job connecting and the Kurgan began to use his blade only for defense.
It was slow going but Connor was being made to give ground, his balance becoming more precarious, his counters less effective. Eventually, the Kurgan landed perhaps the first telling blow of the fight with a knee to the gut. As Connor straightened and prepared for the Kurgan's sword, he instead caught the hilt in his face. The impact was unnaturally loud and Duncan feared a broken cheekbone or, worse, some loss of his brother's vision. The Kurgan of course sensed the opportunity and swung his sword around toward Connor's chest.
A moment later, not only had the Kurgan's blow been parried but Connor's sword had scored the giant's ribs. To Duncan's surprise, his brother's face didn't have a mark on it – the invulnerability had manifested, as Connor had obviously been counting on. He had been waiting for the Kurgan to believe he had struck a telling blow in order to catch the older immortal off guard. For the first time, Duncan thought his brother had the advantage.
The Kurgan stared at the wound for a moment, clearly surprised. It was nearly a foot long and bleeding profusely. Then he turned to Connor. And sneered. The lightning of the quickening flashed all along the wound, sewing it up in seconds rather than the minutes Duncan would have expected just a few days ago.
Now it was Connor's turn to be surprised: it was even harder to gain an advantage than he had thought. Centuries of tactics had to be altered, nothing less than a mortal wound seemed to matter at this point. Duncan groaned; the more experienced immortals would benefit from this. After all, they had begun their lives using crude stone and bronze weapons that made a single killing blow almost impossible.
A very drawn-out death for his brother thus seemed likely. Which meant that the Kurgan needed a nudge to be unnecessarily aggressive, to risk making a mistake when caution would guarantee victory. Since Connor didn't seem to be interested in baiting his opponent, Duncan would have to.
"Umm, guys, sorry but I just realized something. I can't see Kane. If he kills Methos before one of you wins, I won't be able to stop him from taking your heads when you're down. You know, if he wants to."
The two warriors seemed to be paying him no attention.
"And then there's Methos. If he wins, he likely won't come for you, Connor, at least not right away. But, Kurgan, he's probably got three knives hidden with your name on them. And it's not as if I could stop the great Methos if he really wanted to cheat."
Now Duncan had the Kurgan's direct attention, "So your vow is empty after all."
Duncan smiled, "My vow is not to take your head during the quickening. I didn't say anything about fighting Methos or Kane to protect you."
The Kurgan's face twisted, then he lunged for Connor. The Highlander was ready – he knew exactly what Duncan had been doing. The Kurgan's attack was now the most furious that Duncan had seen to this point. But Connor met the more dangerous blows and shrugged off the lesser ones. It seemed something like a stalemate was still brewing.
The Kurgan had other ideas. He waited long minutes until the footing and distance between them was right, then performed a classic maneuver. He took a long stride toward Connor, locked their blades, and grabbed Connor's sword arm with his free hand, hoping to use leverage and his remarkable strength to force Connor to drop the blade.
The ploy came as no surprise to the Highlander. He slugged the Kurgan a few times and, when that had no discernable effect, dropped the sword from his right hand and twisted enough against the Kurgan's hold to grab it with his left. He swung immediately for the kill. He had a bad angle and no way to plant his feet, so the strike seemed to move in slow motion. Even so, a very sharp blade headed toward the Kurgan's neck.
And was stopped by a large hairy palm. It was hard to tell which Scot was more surprised, the one fighting or the one watching. Even weakly swung, the blade should have at least cut deeply into the Kurgan's massive hand, severing tendons. It should have cut the hand near in two. But while blood was flowing, lightning ran across the wound at the same time, healing it even as Connor tried to push the sword through.
It still looked for a moment like a win for Connor. As powerful as the Kurgan's quickening was, eventually the sword would prevail, especially with Connor now over his shock and setting his feet.
Then the Kurgan dropped his own weapon and grabbed Connor's blade with his other hand. This time, there was comparatively little blood before he wrested the sword away from the wide-eyed Scot. One of his hands was now ruined, but he held one sword in the other hand and stood over the second sword.
Duncan resisted the immediate urge to tell his brother to run. If he did, the Kurgan would have time to reclaim his own sword and heal his hand. And Connor would gain nothing but a few more minutes of life.
The Highlander, the original Highlander was not the keenest axe in the armory, as Methos was fond of repeating. But he was a warrior born. He knew instantly that his only chance was to close and attempt a version of what the Kurgan had just done. The Kurgan was much stronger, of course, but he had only one hand to work with at the moment and Connor still had his reduced vulnerability.
They grappled for Connor's katana. With two hands against one, Connor had the advantage. The Kurgan couldn't yet use his ruined hand but he could use that elbow to smash Connor with. The blows looked devastating but Connor's quickening and desperation shielded him. He turned the sword at an angle where he would have more leverage, cutting severely into one of his own hands while doing so. Finally he wrenched the sword free of the Kurgan's grip. He turned back to the giant to prevent him from picking up his own blade and, perhaps, even win this battle.
The Kurgan kicked him in the stomach.
Even at a distance, Duncan could tell the blow was unnatural. Both men's quickenings had been weakened by use by the Kurgan was stronger both in the number of immortals he had killed and in simple physical ability. His sunk farther into Connor's abdomen than should have been possible. Blood and bile burst from the Highlander's mouth in a sudden, repulsive rush. Rather than sprawling back, he fell forward. Duncan sought his eyes but they were unfocused. He was obviously alive but there was no sign of breath.
The Kurgan watched Connor carefully as he retrieved his own sword. Then he eyed Duncan to see if a rescue was imminent. Duncan couldn't move. He wanted to but he was frozen in place, by honor, by horror, perhaps by the Gathering itself. The Kurgan nodded in satisfaction and lifted his sword. Duncan was barely able to say, "I love you, Connor" before the final blow was struck.
end part 29
