VIII

Three days later. Rachel strolled in a park near The Arc of Triumph. The place was rather void of people as it was blistering cold in the dead of night. She leant on her cane, not because she needed it, but because she wanted to give it a use. When the tingle in her head kicked in, she stopped. She looked around, only to find a couple of young lovers in their own secret world, oblivious to reality. She smiled and continued moving.

She entered a large open space, where she could see the stars. The feeling was stronger here. She grasped the grip of the cane, made it twist a little and unsheathed her blade. She examined around with her eyes and noticed a still shadow hidden in the darkness.

"I'm Rachel Ellinstein."

"I know." The male voice came loud and clear. It was someone she knew. She felt taken aback as she wondered if it could be possible that the voice was of the person she thought it was. The shadow walked into the light and his face became seen. A man with dark short hair, the one known as Oliver MacLeod, appeared before her. She gasped. He smiled and approached silently.

"Oliver..." they embraced silently. "You are...? How can it... ?"

"Where can I start?" he said, overcome with emotion.

"We have time to talk. Just hold me now."

Seconds later, their encounter was soured by a tingle coming from somewhere. Oliver opened the large coat he wore and produced a large claymore. Rachel glanced at the inscription on the hilt and wondered how he had managed to get such a sword.

She heard the cry of the grass being stepped on and turned. A tall, longhaired man stood before them. In his face, bitterness and anger could be seen being directed towards the young MacLeod. Rachel smiled at the newcomer for a second, before she realised what he was up to.

"Ten years I spent looking for you." He growled, opening the long beige mackintosh he wore and revealing an ancient Japanese katana. He moved slowly forward. Oliver pushed Rachel aside kindly and swung his sword.

"You believe I did it?"

"Of course." The newcomer slammed against the claymore, which held the blow finely. He began a series of thrusts that were blocked by the large weapon, until one pierced his defence and gashed his arm. Oliver retreated as the stranger lunged again. Oliver felt his chest slashed many times before he fell disarmed. The victor wielded up his sword to finish him when he sensed many other immortals around. He glanced at Rachel, who was still. Then his eyes fixed upon Oliver, who was scrambling up, not intending to fight anymore.

"CONNOR!" a voice bellowed, echoing harshly in the darkness.

-----

The stranger, Connor MacLeod, turned and began to move looking for the speaker. Suddenly, two people appeared from nowhere. A longhaired Jamaican man appeared before him, wielding a large wooden mace with pikes. To the Jamaican's left, a man dressed in sophisticated clothes was grinning with a scimitar in his hand. Connor grinned. The guy looked like a tangerine.

The Jamaican lunged. Connor dodged his blow and countered fiercely. His attack did not hurt the man, but sliced his mace in two. Tangerine Man attacked next, taking Connor at disadvantage. The Highlander parried his first blow. Tangerine was left in a perfect position to strike on his back and whacked forward. Connor hooked the scimitar with his and made it pass over his neck, locking it against his left shoulder and ending up face to face with his opponent.

"Bad move, MacLeod." Tangerine said.

Connor released the sword and Tangerine began to move to strike off. But the Highlander had already swung forward and sliced off the head neatly. Tangerine fell to a side, his head to the other. The Jamaican was attacking him again. Connor felt the power of the quickening soaring and seizing him. He had no chance to defend himself.

Oliver MacLeod appeared and stood between them, parrying every attack the Jamaican made, as Connor received the powerless quickening of Tangerine Man, which was blue and white like every quickening, not orange. It went off soon enough for him to stand up and help the kid. But not only Oliver seemed to be doing fine, Rachel needed his help too.

A woman with hideous stenches of makeup over her face was attacking his daughter. Whoever she was, her skill with the sword was poor. But she was young and had more stamina, unlike Rachel, who was already beginning to wear out. He rushed to help her but a tall Asian man intercepted him. Connor stood on guard.

Despite her tiredness, Rachel seemed to be managing against the leathered woman. She had learnt something over the years, but her defensive style did not look like Duncan's at all. He would have to ask later who taught her. But first was this man, who had a large Chinese spear as arm.

Connor lunged. The Asian parried his upward blow and hit him in the head with the blunt part of the spear. He retreated before going forward again. Again, the Chinese blocked but when he attacked, he missed his target, which left grounds open for Connor to deliver a swift punch in his head. The man fell but delivered a kick in Connor's side, sending him away enough time for him to stand up. The Highlander lunged forward again, but the Asian swoop with his spear and hooked his legs. Connor fell and his sword went loose. The Asian swung his weapon to finish him.

Something long flew towards the Chinese, who diverted it. A katana landed near Connor. He recognised the dragon sculpted in the hilt. He grinned as he stood up, grabbing that sword and his.

"May I join the party?" Duncan MacLeod asked, appearing from behind a tree. His hair was short now, and he was letting his coat fall on the grass.

"Why not?" Connor replied, hurling the dragon-head katana back to its owner.

Duncan stood side to side with Connor. "May I?"

"Be my guest." Connor said, moving aside to let Duncan attack this tough Chinese guy. Rachel needed his help now. He ran towards her but another shadow stopped him, opposing a large claymore. Connor recognised the weapon and glanced at the owner. The bald man grinned with superiority. Connor's breathing increased. A flash of a woman dying at the stake, engulfed in fire, disturbed him.

"Jacob Kell."

"Hello, Connor." Kell slashed at him, wounding him. Connor retreated. "Good to see you."

"What is it all about, Jacob?" Connor asked, painstakingly feeling his wound heal.

"A four-hundred-year crusade in the quest of justice. Restoring the equilibrium after the murder of a man of God!"

"You're a fanatic. So was Rainey."

Kell slammed again. Connor blocked his blow and slice at Jacob's arm, cutting it shallowly. Kell seemed unaffected by it and delivered a strong blow on Connor's side. MacLeod stood up and took distance. He hated to admit it, but Kell was good, too good.

-----

Duncan MacLeod had been exchanging blows with this Asian man until he sent his sword fiercely towards his neck and the Asian tried to parry his attack, ending up with a broken weapon. The Asian dropped his useless spear.

"Go ahead, Highlander. Attack me."

"It wouldn't be honourable to do so." Duncan dropped his weapon. "Now we're even. Do you have a name?"

The man looked at Duncan as if surprised by his attitude. "Jin Ke."

"The same that served Emperor Chin?"

"Indeed."

Jin Ke rushed forward and delivered a kick on Duncan's side. The Highlander blocked and swept Ke's leg. The Chinese fell but swiftly stood up. Duncan parried his next punch with his hand but could do nothing against a gravity-defying jump in the air with which Ke connected two kicks in Duncan's side. The Highlander felt the ribs crack as he landed harshly on the floor.

-----

Connor delivered another blow on Kell, succeeding in disarming him. Kell stood motionlessly.

"Come on, Connor. Take your shot."

Connor lowered his weapon.

"You're sick."

Kell clouted forward before Connor could react. Connor felt his punch and something sharp piercing his chest.

"Am I?" Kell asked viciously, grabbing his sword as Connor fell.

They heard the air being cut by something as a quickening erupted somewhere. Kell opened his hand. A bluish glow came out of it, and the claymore Oliver MacLeod was using froze in the air. Connor recognised the weapon as the one he had owned in the Highlands of Scotland, the one he had been carrying when he was banished from Glen Finnan in 1536, and the one he had marked his bonny Heather's grave with upon her death. How Oliver had it remained a mystery. As how Kell did to freeze the weapon in the air without touching it.

Kell frowned and the sword fell. Nearby, Oliver MacLeod had just finished receiving the Jamaican's quickening and was staring baffled at Kell, to whom he had been pelted the sword at right in order to save Connor's head, right after the Jamaican's head fell.

"What the...?" he mumbled.

"Enough!" Kell called out fiercely.

Jin Ke did not seem to pay heed to Kell's call. He carried on fighting Duncan, who was keeping up with his expertise in martial arts. Only after Kell bellowed again did he stop. He made a nod with his head at the Highlander, who replied in like.

"Good fight." Duncan said.

"Faith!" Kell called to the woman who was fighting Rachel. This woman had two deep gashes in the stomach, but had inflicted major pain in Rachel by slashing her arm. "Faith!" Another blow by her followed, which Rachel blocked, but she kicked her and Rachel fell hard on the floor, as her sword slipped from her grip.

"Another time, haggard lady!" Faith grunted harshly. She sheathed her sword under her coat, and moved towards Kell.

"Kate?" Duncan MacLeod's voice pierced the dominion of silence.

"The name's Faith now, Duncan. Remember that when you're dead." She spat up.

Kell, Jin Ke and Faith disappeared. Connor rose and picked up the claymore, staring at it like at an old friend. Then he picked up his katana. Duncan joined him. They grinned at each other. Nearby, Oliver was helping Rachel up. She was shivering. The air seemed so dense suddenly. She had been so close to death she found it hard to walk. Oliver passed his arm under hers and she leant on him to walk. Connor gazed at the scene for a second, before he moved to help Rachel too.