The lovely child became a beautiful woman. All the young men wanted her and she laughed at the hunger in their eyes—and in their hearts. Her heart was already given.
To Darius.
MacLeod felt the burning passion and the need that had been Callestina’s. Something in his own heart answered it. He, too, had known the fires of need and passion that could warm a chilled heart or sear an empty soul.
Her cry for Darius and his for Tessa—both loved, both gone—mingled. They merged into the wordless cry that was torn from his lips as Cynthia’s Quickening continued to coil and strike—each strike an explosion of power that melded to his own. Building. Feeding.
And with each explosion came more of the feelings that were less than experience yet more than memories.
Devotion to the gods… a lover’s arms… nights of ecstasy… dreams of a future… of love…
… that was not love. The bitter pain of rejection—Darius’s rejection?—sliced through Duncan, sharp and deep as any sword thrust. He felt Callestina ‘s heart, his heart, cut to ribbons.
Love twisted and blackened; his soul healed maimed and misshapen. Desire became obsession, fed with the fuel of Immortality. For all the centuries, he would feel her ire…
Still the Quickening came on, searing through sinew and muscle. It tore him apart with Immortal power and healed again with the same force.
Centuries built on centuries. Through them all, the long dark shadow of obsession stretched. Lovers came and went, meaning nothing; heads were taken to stay alive in The Game a little longer, until revenge could be complete.
Nothing mattered but vengeance…
Vengeance…
And Grayson…
He was the single thread that ran unbroken through her tapestry of time.
He was the love that could have been, should have been…
Love that had no room to abide in either heart… they were already too full…
With hope abandoned, denied, festering into the wound of despair…
With the shards of dreams never rebuilt…
With devotion, caged by the twisted wires…
Of laughter, stilled…
Of tears, unshed…
Withered souls that wanted, needed…
That could not receive…
Could not give…
Until, at last, all that was left was the long shadow and the silence of hearts that could only beat to the rhythm of revenge.
The Quickening was fading, taking the emotion but leaving the power. Duncan MacLeod had grown stronger, as he always grew stronger.
And he had been warned of the chasm that could await.
MacLeod fell to his knees and waited until the last of the Quickening winds dissipated. Then, slowly, he dragged himself to his feet and looked over at Cynthia’s still body.
“Peace be with you, Cynthia,” he said softly, repeating the words Darius had given to him when he left for the New World. He hoped her New World granted her more peace than he had ever found in his.
Epilogue
Duncan MacLeod stood by the graveside of Victor Paulus. The service was over, the mourners had gone home. Only Duncan MacLeod remained, bidding farewell to this man he had known too little and to whose aid he had come too late.
He did not wish peace to Paulus’s departed spirit. Victor had always had peace; like Darius, he had carried it in his own heart. That was the lesson they had both tried to teach—and the lesson it was so hard to learn.
Who will take up the lesson now? he wondered. Who would hold the shadows at bay?
“You can’t save them all, MacLeod,” a familiar voice said behind him.
Duncan turned slightly and saw Joe Dawson standing there, his dark coat buttoned against the chill and his steel-gray hair darkened by the drizzle that had begun to fall. The grayness of the day matched the mood of Duncan’s heart.
“I didn’t save any of them, did I?” he replied. He was again—he was still—the chieftain’s son. grieving over the deaths in his clan. Darius, Grayson, Cynthia, Paulus; lives so intertwined. They were shadows and sunlight, dancing the eternal dance, each a part of the others. Two he had killed, two he had failed to save; four lives, this time-—but how much blood was really on his hands?
“Obsession and revenge—sides of the same dark coin.” MacLeod spoke his thoughts out loud.
“What was that, MacLeod?” Joe asked.
“Something Darius said to me once—a long time ago. I wish Cynthia could have heard the truth in those words.”
“Some people will only hear what they want to hear, and it doesn’t matter about truth.”
Dawson came and stood beside Duncan. In his presence was the silent offer of comfort and of burdens shared. Then Dawson put a hand on Duncan’s shoulder.
“Come on, my friend,” he said. “I’ll buy you a drink and you can tell me some more about Darius. Darius, Grayson, Cynthia, even Paulus—we’ll talk about them all. I’ll get every word and every memory down in the Chronicles. And maybe someday we’ll understand.”
“Understand?” Duncan asked.
“Everything, man—why some love and others hate. When all is said and done, perhaps that’s the best thing the Chronicles will tell us.”
Darius was gone but his words and his spirit would live on, Duncan thought, the gray of his mood lifting just a little. That was the promise he had made to Paulus. Now, with Joe’s help, he would keep it. In those words was an Immortality Darius and Paulus could share—the Immortality of remembrance.
As Duncan turned with Joe to leave the grave behind them, a few lines of a poem by Richard Cranshaw drifted through his thoughts. For the first time in two days, a soft smile touched Duncan’s lips.
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,
Till the stormy night be gone.
And the eternal morrow dawn,
Then the curtains will be drawn,
And they will make into a light
Whose day shall never die in night.
Author’s Notes
The conditions in Sudan, presented in the beginning of this book are, unfortunately, not products of this writer’s imagination. The figures for deaths, the reality of torture and slavery, and other atrocities not mentioned in these pages, have all been verified with numerous sources. There are many organizations currently working to mount rescue and relief actions. Those of you interested in giving your aid to these efforts might try contacting the pastors or priests in your area or secular organizations such as Amnesty International.
Most of you reading this book will be familiar with the first season episode, “Band of Brothers,” on which much of this book is based. You purists will have noticed the slight discrepancy in my presentation of the Battle of Waterloo.
The Battle of Waterloo took place on June 18, 1815, after a day and a half of torrential rains. However, while filming the episode the cast, crew, and scriptwriters had to contend with a sudden snowfall. They chose to incorporate it into the story; for the sake of history, I have taken it out.
I am most grateful to Mr. Erik Flint for all of his expert advice and patient explanations about the battles, uniforms, and weaponry of the Napoleonic era. Without his help, the Battle of Waterloo would have remained mere statistics on a page for me, and any mistakes in presenting this information are my errors, not his.
For those of you interested in learning more about the Napoleonic era, there are many fine books on the subject. The final book of Will and Ariel Durant’s eleven-volume The Story of Civilization series is entitled The Age of Napoleon and is an invaluable source of information. For more fiction set in that era, the Sharpe’s Rifles series by Bernard Cornwell is well worth the read.
The sack of Rome by the Visigoths in the year A.D. 410 is also grounded in fact. With the exception of the Immortal characters, it has been presented as accurately as possible, leaving out only the political intrigue of the previous years that had nothing to do with this story.
Alaric the Great, lea
der of the Visigoths, did indeed lead his army of 40,000 to the gates of Rome. As they began their siege of the Eternal City, the gates were opened to them by rebellious slaves from within the walls. The Visigoths entered and sacked the city that had stood for 1,000 years and survived everything from the greatness of Julius to the depravity and madness of Tiberius and Caligula. Peace with the Visigoths came at the price of total capitulation to their demands, which included Alaric’s marriage into the Imperial family, in the person of the Emperor’s sister. It was the end of Rome as the power she had once been. That power would be regained, though not in quite the same way, with the advent of the Holy Roman Empire and the spread of the pontifical authority of the Church. Had the Emperor Honorius been better advised in the years before 410, especially by his general Stilcho, who hated the Visigoths, the ensuing tale might have been far different. But that is a story for another book entirely.
Those of you interested in reading more about the Visigoths might try volume four of Will and Ariel Durant’s series, The Age of Faith, and J.B. Bury’s book, The Invasion of Europe by the Barbarians.
I am also indebted to the following people for all their help and support:
To Donna Lettow, Executive Script Consultant for Highlander, the series, and fellow novelist, for getting me the episode script and manuscript I needed to check my references, and to her and Gillian Horvath for a productive brain-storming session; and also to Donna for her wonderful work on The Watcher Chronicles, from which much of the background information for these characters was gleaned;
To David Abramowitz, who created the character of Darius, to Marie-Chantal Droney, who wrote the wonderful episode “Band of Brothers,” that was the inspiration for this book, and to Bill Panzer and Peter Davis, who gave us the character of Duncan MacLeod, a truly heroic character who is fun to write;
To Betsy Mitchell, editor par excellence, encouraging, funny and kind, who is so good at handling a writer’s occasional fits of angst;
To Jennifer Jackson, who reacquainted me with the good things about having an agent;
To Dianne, who kept the chuckles and cyber-hugs coming across the electronic waves;
To Debbie and Clay, from the local Videoland, who tracked down various obscure documentaries on the life of Napoleon and the Battle of Waterloo;
To my dear friend Donna, who has, as always, listened and read, encouraged and advised—in both career and in life;
And especially to my beloved Stephen, friend and husband, who is my sanity amid this world of words I inhabit;
My deepest gratitude to you all.
And watch for the new Highlander adventure
coming in July 1998 from Warner Aspect!
HIGHLANDER: THE CAPTIVE SOUL
by Josepha Sherman
AN ANCIENT EVIL
Over three thousand years ago, Methos helped the Egyptian pharaohs in their battle against sadistic Hyksos overlords. Then he fought Khyan, an Immortal Hyksos prince, but failed to take his head. Now a deadly madman stalks modern New York City, hunting an ancient sword, killing all who stand in his way. It can only be Khyan, seeking revenge. If Methos does not destroy this darkness from his past, he, Duncan MacLeod, and indeed all Immortals will be doomed…
THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE…
He is immortal. A Scottish warrior born four hundred
years ago. He is not alone. For centuries he has fought
others like himself. He can die only if a foe takes his head, capturing his life-force in an event known as the Quickening. But his battles are eternal… for in the end, there can be only one. He is Duncan MacLeod. The Highlander.
MAN OF PEACE
Once the Immortal Darius was a brutal warrior and the terror of Europe. Then outside the gates of Paris, a transformation took place, and Darius became a saintly man of peace. His teachings touched many lives—including the Highlander’s. Now, to honor his friend’s memory, MacLeod protects Victor Paulus, a mortal who carries on Darius’ legacy. But Darius left another legacy—a thwarted ex-lover who spent centuries plotting against Darius, who has sworn to destroy any- one he called a friend. Starting with Victor Paulus and Duncan MacLeod…
HIGHLANDER™
THE SERIES
ALL-NEW, ORIGINAL ADVENTURE
“Highlander” is a protected trademark of Gaumont Television © 1994 Gaumont Television and © 1985 Davis Panzer Productions, Inc. Published by arrangement with Bohbot Entertainment, Inc.
Highlander: Shadow of Obsession Page 24
