Chapter Five
Paris
While MacLeod slept, a red fog floated around the barge. A dream of sinister intent was forming inside his sub-conscience.
Duncan found himself walking through a small Japanese village. It looked very old and he judged it to be around the late 1700's. He was wearing the traditional kimono that men wore.
The natives looked somber and were moving toward a central square. They glanced up as they walked passed him but not speaking.
He felt compelled to follow them. Everything looked eerie as if gazing through the fog.
A raised platform was just ahead where the people gathered around to watch. Two people were on the platform. He went closer to investigate.
A Samurai warrior stood there and a woman wearing a white Kimono was kneeling on a cushion. Her hair was tied back and her face painted white. She looked almost like Beth.
The woman held a small dagger point down which she cleaned with water and wiped it with a spotless white cloth. Next, she opened her gown and let it fall past her pale pink shoulders.
The Samurai took out his sword and raised it high as it flashed briefly in the pale light.
Duncan recognized this ritual with sudden clarity at what was about to happen. He tried to push forward through the crowd shouting, "Let me through!" He needed to stop what was about to take place but the people around him prevented it.
"No!" He shouted louder.
The woman looked straight at him then plunged the dagger into her abdomen and did the required two cuts before the Samurai bought his sword quickly down upon her neck.
Duncan screamed in frustration as her body slowly crumpled and blood soaked the platform. Closing his eyes, he tried to shut out the image he had just witnessed.
Hearing some music, he looked up and saw a different setting where a funeral prier set up and Beth's body lay there. Her head where it should lie with a scarf upon her neck to cover the wound. Flowers were scattered around her and in her hair. She looked beautiful in death.
Duncan approached it looking sorrowful and noticed a man standing there. As he turned around, he saw it was Horton. He felt horror and hatred at this man. "You again!" he exclaimed.
Pointing to the body Horton said, "Duncan I want you to know that if you get involved with her she will die."
Duncan countered with, "You mean you will have her killed!" Wishing he could put his hands around Horton's neck again.
"Kill this sweet thing?" He touched the cold cheek. "No you will do that all on your own. I'm just giving you fair warning," said Horton smiling wickedly.
Duncan moved between Horton and the body pushing him back. He counted out the evil deeds. "You used me to kill Richie Ryan. You killed Sophie Baines in order to get to me and used her brother. So I think you would kill Beth." He concluded with certainty.
"There's where your wrong my lad," said Horton fading slowly. "I have no more power in the real world. Even tormenting you in dreams is becoming difficult. Therefore, take this one last bit of insight. If you get involved with Elizabeth Windsor she will die." With a flick of his hand a fire erupted and engulfed the body.
Horton faded out completely as the laughing died away. Duncan looked at the burning prior and the body that represented Beth so closely.
He thought on those words and said, "Why did he have to tell me that now." Feeling he was beginning to wake up he heard the phone ringing.
He came awake reaching for the receiver nearly rolling out of bed in the process but catching himself and the receiver by the forth ring.
"Hello," Said Duncan sounding groggy, "MacLeod here."
"Hi it's Beth, remember me?" came the reply.
He answered, "How could I forget. What can I do for you?" he asked relieved to hear her voice.
She determined, "I didn't know you were a late sleeper so I can call back later."
Duncan looked at the clock and it read 6:30am. He stifled a yawn and said, "No this is fine. What did you want to talk about?"
Beth told him, "Our combat of course. This morning would be a good time. We could go to the park."
"It's a good plan," he said, "I'll be ready in half an hour. Should I pick you up at the hotel?"
"No need to I'm on my way out the door. The walk should take that long. Or if you like I can walk slowly?" She teased him.
He challenged her, "Run then and I'll still be ready."
He heard the ring of acceptance in her voice as she said, "On your mark, get set, go," before hanging up the phone.
Duncan bolted out of bed half an hour did not give him much time. Jumping into the shower, he was finished and dressed in fifteen minutes.
He wanted to be comfortable for this "little bout" and wore his black Khakis and a gray Shaker sweater. He slipped into his black Loafers. He tied his hair into place with an old hair tie made for him by Tessa. He still kept everything she had made for him.
Then, while eating some imported strawberries for a short breakfast, he did his warm up by stretching. He continued to ponder the dream. "Maybe there will be an accident in combat and I accidently be-head her."
He was still mulling over what could go wrong when he felt her approaching. She felt different from other Immortals. He did not know why except that it was probably because she never had the first quickening.
"Good morning." He said cheerfully as he opened the door before she could knock.
"Good morning yourself," she replied stopping in the doorway. Not even out of breath she asked him, "Are you ready?"
She came dressed in brown pants and a light blue pullover turtleneck. Her coat was cream-colored wool that fit snugly around her waist. She had pulled her hair back into a tight braid, ending with a red ribbon.
"I'm always ready for a work out," He said noticing her mood.
Smiling mischievously she asked, "Prepared to lose?"
He said, "Today you've met your match. You'll lose against me." Smiling broadly at her and thumbing his chest.
"Do you want to bet on that?" She asked, holding out her hand.
He looked serious for a moment but said, "Sure, loser buys the winner breakfast. And I'll be real hungry when we're through."
Taking Duncan's hand and shaking it she answered, "Agreed, because you'll be buying me breakfast."
Then he suggested, "Shall we go?" Letting her hand drop, he turned and picked up his sword and put on his coat. Going outside he locked the door.
It was a cold, beautiful morning as they walked to the park. He was content to walk beside her as she hummed to herself quietly. He did not recognize the tune, but it was haunting.
When they arrived at the park, they found a good place with trees far enough apart and thick grass. The early morning joggers were gone and there seemed to be enough privacy.
Putting their coats aside, Duncan asked, "Who made your sword?"
She smiled a little, knowing his curiosity and held it up for him to look.
He studied it carefully in the early morning light. The hilt bound with compressed animal hide that would conform to only one hand. Joe called it "the ugly sword" and the description certainly did fit.
Shaped in a long taper the blade appeared to have been recently polished, but with the usual scratches and nicks apparent from many battles. He doubted that anything could break it.
"I've never seen a sword of this type used by an immortal." He said, still looking at it.
Beth lowered the sword saying, "My father worked on it before he was killed. I befriended a Sword smith who completed the tempering process and finished with the hilt. He also taught me some fighting skills."
He commented, "It seems too long a blade for your height. How are you able to fight with it?"
She pulled on a pair of tight leather gloves, smiling at him.
"I compensate." She answered taking her stance, feet apart, knees bent, the sword held parallel with the ground, free arm out stretched. She told him, "En Garde."
Duncan paused a moment looking closely at his katana as if suddenly noticing a scratch.
She said, "Don't play if you can't bear to lose." Then she began to attack, by springing forward and slashing upward to carry herself under his guard.
Duncan easily countered the attack and made her go on the defensive. He pushed his attack making her dance around trees, not taking his eyes off her sword.
She dropped down again bringing her sword up and holding it like a baton then deflected his sword sideways, pushing with both hands and throwing him off balance. Her face changed and became serious.
Her attack became force without control. Her sword brushed inches from his neck.
Attacking her back, his feet shuffled and he quickly tapped her sword side to side testing her agility feeling her strength through the length of the blade.
With sweat and tears on her face, she dug deep on her reserves as she attacked earnestly, beating him back in a display of passion. All her anger poured out through her blade.
She shook her head with perspiration on her face and kept repeating, "I hate you." While continuing to push her attack then retreat tactics.
He countered back, they came together again, the swords scraped in unison and locked. She could see the tension on his face.
He became a wall with a sword, unmoving and impenetrable. "Enough of this," he said. Raised his weapon and came down hard on her sword riding it to the hilt. "Do you really want to be my executioner?"
"Yes," she answered and pushed his sword back until exhausted.
She questioned him, "Did you always plan to kill him?"
"No," He answered, "it was an accident." Blocking her sword, he continued to defend allowing her to vent.
"I can't forgive you." She declared and lunged forward with a quickness and fluidity he parried. With both hands on the hilt, she struck at him harder in a frenzied state.
He held his ground blocking her sword with each pass telling her, "I won't hurt you."
Duncan instructed between swings, "Stop fighting with your anger."
She countered but slipped on wet grass and dropped to the ground. Duncan checked his momentum and stopped an inch from her neck. She reached up and pushed the blade aside.
"You must be lucky," he told her. Looking into her eyes he said, "You fought with hate and that makes you unbalanced."
Sitting there on the grass she told him, "Late one night he told me his best friend almost killed him."
Looking at her thoughtfully he told her, "Beth that happened five years ago."
Her head bowed and still breathing hard she had a lump in her throat. She did not speak so Duncan knelt down and explained.
"I don't fight with emotions. When I stand before a challenge, there is no anger or fear, hate or pain. I see what is there and I move accordingly to stay balanced." He reached out his hand to her saying, "I am not your enemy."
Beth wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and looked up at him with sadness in her heart. She took his hand and let him help her stand. Brushing off the grass, she finally said to him, "I just wanted Richie to be here for me and you took that away."
He brushed a piece of hair from her face and said, "I am sorry for your pain." He sighed and told her, "It is one burden I'll never be free from."
She turned away afraid of what she saw in his eyes. Getting on her coat, she put her sword away in the harness. Glancing at him, she saw him still standing there looking at her.
She cleared her throat and said, "I owe you breakfast."
Duncan went to get his coat on and then asked her, "Do you still feel like eating?"
"Yes," she replied, "I'm thinking about what you said and I'm dealing with it."
"Then I know the perfect place," he said leading the way.
"Right now I'm only sure of one thing," she said turning to get into step with him. "The life I once planned is over."
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