CHALLENGE
part 4
By Pat
Luka’s mind was a battleground of conflicting thoughts and emotions as he held his breath. He could feel the sharp blade of the sword where it rested against his neck. It would be so easy, he thought, to choose death, but a part of him said, no, that was the coward’s way out. MacLeod had loved and lost; yet he had found the strength to continue on. Was he, Luka Kovac, any less of a man? And yet, there was Daniela and the children he had loved. To see them, and be with them, and touch them again, could he refuse that opportunity? Then she was there – filling his thoughts, so real, so close he could hear her speak, “No my husband, this is not your time to die. You must choose to live and go on – you are needed there, Luka. We love you, but we are safe and we are happy here. You must choose life, my love.” And then she was gone, and he had his decision. “Life. I want to live.” Luka’s answer was clear. As quickly as it had appeared at his throat, the sword was gone. He jumped up from the chair, hands clenched in anger, to face MacLeod.
“I’m sorry, Luka, I didn’t
want to have to do that.” Duncan said simply. “But
you couldn’t continue the way you were going.”
Luka felt his anger fade as he looked into
Duncan’s eyes. He saw there once again that
haunted, anguished look. Even though his expression
betrayed no emotions, they were reflected in his eyes.
“It’s all right, Duncan, I understand.” Luka
smiled slightly, “But you have to admit, that was one hell
of a wake up call.”
“Well, I had to get through that thick
skull of yours somehow.” MacLeod quipped. “I’m
glad you made the choice you did, my friend, now let’s get
back to work so you have that choice!”
After that the days and weeks settled into a
similar routine. MacLeod worked Luka harder than he
had ever worked in his life. Up every morning at 5
a.m. for a 4-5 mile run through a park on the outside of town,
back to the dojo for weight training, martial arts training and,
of course, most importantly, sword training. Luka had
always been lean, but now he was becoming more muscular and
toned, his reflexes sharper. Duncan was very pleased
at how quickly Luka was progressing with his swordsmanship.
All skills that Luka would need if he were to survive The Game.
“No, no Luka,” MacLeod instructed,
“That parry was wrong. You’re still keeping the
blade too low. You can’t block a strike that
way. Your opponent’s blade will come right over
your blade like so.” He demonstrated, his sword
stopping just short of Luka’s neck. “Let’s
try it again.” The men moved back into position.
“Better, but still a bit too low. Bring the blade up
higher yet.” He told Luka, preparing to attack again,
but this time Luka had lowered the sword completely.
“Don’t you ever get tired?”
Luka grumbled. “I don’t know about you, but I
could use a rest and some food!”
“Okay, you win.” MacLeod
laughed, “We’ll call it a day. What do you
say we go out for some Italian food tonight?”
“Sounds good to me!” Luka
replied, “I’m starving. Even that, what did you
call it, haggis? Sounds good right now!”
Shaking his head and laughing, Duncan
responded, complete with Scottish accent, “No haggis
tonight. We dinna have a piper to pipe it in, and you dinna
have your kilt, mon!”
The two were laughing and arguing as they
walked to the car, with MacLeod threatening Luka with bodily
harm, after he had jokingly asked why Scotsmen insisted on
wearing skirts. He was about to explain the tradition
of the kilt when both men suddenly stopped. Once
again that sensation surrounded Luka and both he and MacLeod
sensed the presence of another immortal. In a flash
MacLeod’s katana appeared in his hand. “Stay
behind me.” He commanded Luka. Around the
corner stepped a thin, tall, blonde-haired man, sword in hand.
“Ah, now whom do we have here?” he questioned.
“I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan
MacLeod. And I know who you are, Jeremy Kronick.”
“Yes, now I remember you MacLeod,”
the other immortal sneered, “Still training the young ones,
I see. I do believe I met up with an old student of
yours. You should have trained him better. Pity,
but then his loss,” and with those words he made a slicing
motion beneath his chin, “was my gain. And I see you
have another.” His gaze flicking contemptuously
in Luka’s direction. “Don’t worry,
boy, I’ll come for you soon.”
“You’ll have to get by me first,
Kronick. And from what I hear, you’re afraid to
face a seasoned immortal, always the coward,” MacLeod
taunted. He looked towards Luka and whispered, “If
I lose, you wait until the quickening is finished and before he
recovers, you grab my sword and take his head!”
The two immortals were preparing to face off
when the lights of a passing police car illuminated the alleyway.
The swords were quickly hidden. The three men
stood quietly as the patrol car pulled up. “What's
going on here?” the officer demanded.
“Just saying good-bye to an old
acquaintance.” MacLeod told the officer.
“Yes, I’ll be seeing you soon
MacLeod.” Kronick told the Highlander. “And you I’ll
be seeing a lot sooner.” He nodded towards Luka before
he turned and disappeared around the corner of the building.
Satisfied that nothing was going on, the police went on their
way. MacLeod turned to Luka, “Are you
okay?” He asked. Luka nodded affirmatively,
“Yeah, I’m okay. Is it always like that?”
Grimly MacLeod answered, “That's a
challenge. And that's what you will face. I was
hoping it wouldn’t come this soon, but it has. So now
we have to make sure you are ready. We need to get back to
your training.”
Over the next few days MacLeod was like a
man possessed. He pushed Luka to the end of his endurance.
During a martial arts session, time after time he threw Luka to
the mat. “Get up!” He ordered
harshly. “You’ve got to do better than that!”
Finally, Luka’s temper snapped. He got to feet and
walked away from MacLeod.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Duncan questioned. “You’re not finished here yet.”
“The hell I’m not! I’ve
had it with you and with the training. I’m getting out
of here.” Luka snapped back. He found
himself spun around to face his teacher.
“You’ve got to be prepared.
He’s out there – waiting for you! Kronick
isn’t going to give you a second chance. He won’t
give you the choice of life or death! He’ll take
your head without a second thought!” Duncan was
adamant.
“What the hell is going on with you,
MacLeod?” Luka demanded to know. “This isn’t
just about Kronick and it isn’t about me! You’ve
had something eating away at you since you’ve returned
– and I want to know what’s wrong! Why are
you being this way? Why in the hell are you doing this?”
Luka kept insisting. He was determined to break
through the wall of silence MacLeod had built around himself.
“Because I don’t want to lose you
too!” MacLeod shouted. He turned away from
Luka. He was not a person who could easily reveal his
emotions, and now he struggling to get them back under control
when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the quiet voice of
his friend. “Duncan, what happened? You lost
someone? Was it Connor?” Luka asked softly.
All MadLeod could do was nod. He didn’t trust his
voice.
Grasping his friend firmly on the shoulder,
Luka turned MacLeod around to face him. “Do you want
to talk about it?” He asked. “You’ve
been a good friend to me, Duncan. God knows you’ve
been there for me when I needed to talk. Give me the
chance to repay that friendship – let me try to help you.”
He offered.
“Sit down, then,” MacLeod
responded, “and I’ll tell you.” He
poured them each a drink, and then sat down heavily in the chair.
Luka waited quietly for MacLeod to speak.
“You remember I told you how Connor
MacLeod had been my teacher?” He glanced towards Luka
who nodded affirmatively. “Well, he was more than just
a teacher, he was my clansman, he was my friend, and he was like
a brother. When I was in trouble, or just needed him,
he was there. And I tried to be that for him.
When I left here last year it was because Connor was missing.
You know enough now to realize that when an immortal is missing,
there’s usually only one reason.” Again Luka
nodded.
MacLeod continued, “We always knew it
could happen to one of us. In fact, it was almost a
superstition we had – if we never said the words, ‘Good-Bye’
when we parted, we’d see each other again, so we never said
them. He’d look at me and say ‘Duncan’
and I’d say ‘Connor’ – we didn’t need
any more than that to say what was in our hearts. I
guess that’s why I couldn’t accept that Connor was
dead. Even thought that was what I was told. I wanted
to see his grave. Well, I found the cemetery, but no
grave. Instead, there was Connor, alive. But he
was being hunted by a very powerful, very dangerous immortal from
his past, an immortal bent on revenge for something that had
happened hundreds of years ago. Kell found us there,
and he challenged Connor to fight. He would have won that
day, but that wasn’t what he had in mind. That was too
easy. No, Kell would exact his revenge in other ways –
by destroying everything and everyone that Connor loved before he
killed him. It was only a matter of time before he
came for me. I knew that and so did Connor.” MacLeod
paused to take a sip from his glass. Luka waited
patiently. He could see how difficult this was for
his friend.
“Then one night I felt the presence of
another immortal. I assumed it was Kell, coming for
me. I took my sword and went to the roof, preparing
for combat. I found that combat – but it wasn’t
Kell – it was Connor. He had decided that
alone neither of us could win against Kell, but together we had a
chance. And he was sacrificing himself so that I
could take his quickening and his power.” MacLeod’s
eyes were haunted and his face a mask of grief as he spoke.
Luka could tell he was no longer in the room – he was once
more back on that rooftop, once more facing the worst battle of
his life.
“I told him no, I wouldn’t do it!
He couldn’t ask that of me! He insisted it was the
only way, and that it was his choice, it was what he wanted to
do. He was relentless in his attack and his
reasoning. Finally, I gave in to him. That's
when he looked at me and said ‘Good-bye, Duncan,’ and I
said ‘Good-bye, Connor,’ and then I finished it.
I took his head and his quickening.”
Luka was stunned. He thought of
Daniela. Yes, he had allowed to her die, but he
thanked God that he didn’t have to make the choice Duncan
had been forced to make.
“And Kell?” Luka questioned,
“Did he come for you?”
“Yes.” From the expression
on Duncan’s face, Luka knew the outcome of that battle.
“Afterwards I took Connor home to Scotland and laid him to
rest on a hillside overlooking Glenfinnan and Loch Shiel, next to
the grave of his beloved wife, Heather. And now I
have to live with the fact that I killed him.”
Luka got up and walked over to stand behind
MacLeod. He put his hand on his friend’s
shoulder. “I am so sorry, Duncan, to hear of your
loss. Connor sounds like a remarkable man; I would
have been honored to have known him. But from what
you’ve told me about him, he wouldn’t want you to feel
that way.” Luka walked around so he could face MacLeod
before he continued.
“You said he was always there for you,
and you for him. Connor knew that. And he
knew you were the one person he could count on. He
had made his decision and he was obviously at peace with that
decision. He knew what he was asking of you, but he
asked it because he knew he could trust you. He
needed you to be there that one last time for him. And
from what you’ve told me of the Quickening – who better
to give his spirit and all that he was, to the man he also loved
as a brother? His body might be gone – but he’ll
always be with you.” Luka paused. He hoped
his words were getting through. “I know these words
aren’t really adequate, Duncan, but there are no good words
at a time like this. You’ve been a good friend,
and I know I can never take Connor’s place. But
I want to be here when you need someone to lean on, you’ve
become like a brother to me as well.”
MacLeod’s eyes met Luka’s. “You
have a great deal of wisdom for one who has lived such a short
time, my friend.” He replied softly. “Thank
you. And I’m proud to call you friend and
brother.” He stood offering his hand to Luka,
grasping him by the elbow in the ancient sign of brotherhood.
The two men faced each other – brother-to-brother,
warrior-to-warrior, as equals. Then MacLeod smiled
faintly, “We need to get back to work. I promise to go
easier on you this time.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Luka
laughed, “This time you’re going to hit the mat!”
Several days later, as they were sitting
down to dinner, the phone rang. Luka watched as
MacLeod picked up the receiver. His face took on a
grim look and he uttered only a few words. “I told
you, you would have to face me first. Tonight, 8 o’clock,
down by the abandoned warehouse at the dock.” He
hung up the phone.
“That was Kronick wasn’t it?”
Luka questioned. “He wanted me, didn’t he?”
MacLeod nodded before replying, “He won’t get you if I
can help it. However, if I don’t return by 9:30,
you take a sword and you get out of here.” He ordered
Luka.
”But Duncan, I can’t let you fight my battles!”
Luka protested. “I’m not a coward!”
“No you aren’t, but you aren’t
ready yet. Let me handle this.” MacLeod
responded.
No more was said as the evening progressed
towards the appointed hour. Luka had made a decision.
He could not allow his friend to risk his life for him. He
thought of a way he could stop MacLeod. When he had
packed up his belongs out of habit he had grabbed his medical
kit. There was enough morphine in there to knock out
MacLeod out long enough for Luka to get away to go meet Kronick.
He loaded enough morphine in the syringe to knock out a horse.
He didn’t have to worry about killing MacLeod if he
overdosed. But he wanted to make sure he was out
cold. Having made up his mind, he put his plan into
action. Hiding the needle in his hand, he approached
the Highlander as he was preparing the blade on his sword.
Acting quickly, Luka injected the drug into MacLeod’s arm.
“What the hell!” Duncan exclaimed. He
felt his vision start to blur, “Luka, what did you do?
Don’t do this.” His words slurred as his vision
darkened, and he collapsed to the floor.
“I’m sorry Duncan, I couldn’t
let you risk your life for me.” Luka told the
unconscious man. He walked over to the sword
holder on the wall and selected one of the katanas that hung
there. He couldn’t take MacLeod’s sword.
Grabbing his keys before he could change his mind, he hurried out
to his car and drove off with grim determination. He
knew he had a good chance of dying tonight, but he also knew he
couldn’t live with his friend’s death on his
conscience. Whatever fate had in store for him, he
was prepared to meet it.
Duncan awoke slowly, groggy from the
lingering effects of the medication. Then he bolted to his
feet. He could not sense Luka’s presence and
when he saw the missing sword, he knew for sure where his friend
had gone. Grabbing his sword he ran to the
Thunderbird. He had to get there before it was too late.
He drove as fast as he dared through the streets of Chicago to
the abandoned warehouse. He immediately felt
the buzz of the other immortals as he hurried towards the door.
He had arrived too late. The battle had already
started. He could not interfere now. All
he could do was stand by helplessly as he watched Luka
struggling, bleeding from several cuts on his arms, as Kronick
approach, sword raised, flashing out towards Luka. Sparks
flew as the swords clashed together. The Highlander
sensed the end of the battle was near, a head would soon fall.
He prayed that head would not be Luka’s.
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