by Nancy Holder
But his father was home, drunk, beating her. Her hands vainly covered her face. She begged, “No, per favore, per favore, amore mio.”
Unloved.
Niccolino stood helpless before his father’s anger.
Ashamed before the laughter of the other boys.
Humiliated.
Unloved.
Never again, the little boy vowed. Never again. Better never to care.
Never to love.
Mortified and suffering in the desert where MacLeod had left him; MacLeod, whose power and vitality he adored.
And MacLeod, rising weakly, opening his eyes, whispered, “Rest peacefully, Niccolo Machiavelli. It’s done. It’s over.”
Samantha crawled to him, and he lifted her into his arms. She was wrung limp, but triumphant.
“It was your first,” he told her. “Next time, you’ll know what to expect.”
“You are my first,” she replied softly, and kissed him.
Epilogue:
The Kata of The Victor
“All things that are born must die. Work hard for your own freedom from sorrow.”
—The Buddha
The Quickening of Niccolo Machiavelli turned the compound into a pile of burning rubble. Glass and metal was fused. It looked as if a bomb had gone off.
Miraculously, MacLeod located the original CD-ROM. It had melted into an unreadable glob. The second, Dawson told MacLeod by phone, was reported destroyed and unreadable in the bakery fire. He didn’t tell MacLeod how he had found this out, but MacLeod believed him.
Yet no one could be certain it was over. The routers were still in place. They would have to wait and see what happened next.
Richie was safe; the plane had gone down, but most of the other passengers had been rescued. Most. Some had died.
Of the conspirators, only Samantha was alive. She grieved, and MacLeod held her, knowing the pain, knowing it would be part of both their lives until they were killed, or left alone to be the one.
Now they checked into an old-fashioned country inn, a ryokan, in the peaceful countryside. She was different. More confident. Stronger. She moved like a fighter. There was a radiance about her.
She didn’t need him anymore.
He was very happy for her.
But after steaming hot baths and long, sensuous massages, they were alone again. She fell into his arms, and he carried her to bed.
Eagerly, she opened herself to him. Her skin was silky, her flesh soft and yielding, her muscles steel.
“Duncan, I can be yours now,” she whispered. “I have something to give you, because I have more than I need. Machiavelli was wrong; I was able to love him. He just couldn’t accept it. I have more than enough for both of us.”
He held her tightly. Then restore me, he wanted to tell her. I’ve lost what was inside. I’ve sacrificed the value of my word. I’ve lost who I am.
If I had not placed such a high value on my honor, I would not have lost Debra. I would not have lost Hamza. I would not have lost myself.
I would not walk so alone.
I wouldn’t have dreams that make me weep.
“You saved us all,” she whispered. “You did it.”
What other choice was there? Permit Machiavelli to continue his scheming and domination? The Immortal had adapted to this century, as he had to all the others, but in this modern, high-tech world the harm he could wreak was numbing. He could have been anything he wanted. He would have been unstoppable. He would never have developed a conscience. He had no code except that he must control; he must dominate; he must be.
And so, he could not be.
But what of the next time, the next adversary? Would he, MacLeod, find a way to justify breaking his word to save his own life? Would it become easier now to build his morality on shifting sand, rather than the age-old rocks of his beloved Highland hills?
“I thought you were going to sacrifice me to get to him,” Samantha murmured. “And I think I would have killed you for that, because I didn’t know then just how evil he was.”
He didn’t answer. He had promised never to challenge her. Would he break that promise, too, someday?
“Duncan?”
“I’m lost,” he murmured under his breath, thinking she wouldn’t be able to hear him.
“No. No, I know where to find you.” She laid his hand over her heart. “In here.”
Could that be so? Could it be enough to save him? Was he yet a man of principles and honor? If sometimes those principles required that he sacrifice a tiny part of his soul to save others, did he still have a soul?
“Hold on tight,” she said. “We’ll go together this time. The path isn’t so narrow when you share it with someone else.” She cradled his head. “Someone you walk beside, not in front of.”
“Aye,” he said, releasing himself from too much pain, and sorrow, and disappointment. The katas of the last adversaries.
Going with her, his eyes closed, hoping.
Perhaps if he held on tightly enough, trusted enough, hoped enough, and loved, he would always be Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.
An Immortal.
A Prince of the Universe.
The Highlander.
IT’S A KIND OF MAGIC…
On sale in July 1997,
Highlander: The Path
by Rebecca Neason
Duncan MacLeod learns of an international peace rally, but he is reluctant to attend, for the guest of honor is to be the Dalai Lama, and his appearance stirs painful memories 200 years old…
In 1781, growing weary of Immortality and The Game, Duncan wanders into Tibet, where he meets the eighth Dalai Lama. The Dalai Lama helps Duncan to find the path he was meant to take, and during his stay in Tibet, Duncan falls in love with a beautiful young woman. When Gurkah soldiers attack the sacred monastery, Duncan is forced back into battle—but with the help of the Dalai Lama’s teachings, Duncan now understands the true use of his special nature.
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 himse lf. He can die only if a foe takes his head, captur ing 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 Dunca n Macleod. The Highlander.
THE PRINCE OF LIES
Niccolo Machiavelli was history’s greatest manipulator, whose only morality was “might makes right.” He played princes against kings, controlling all by lies and corrupted love. What if such a man were Immortal?… In Venice, 1655, Macleod tested his wit and his honor against Machiavelli and learned that his opponent would stop at no betrayal to achieve his ends. Now Machiavelli has plans to dominate the entire mortal world. Then why has the Prince of lies dared the Highlander to stop him?
HIGHLANDERTM
THE SERIES
ALL-NEW, ORIGINAL ADVENTURE