I’m posting the final chapter of a novel I wrote in homage to Highlander: The Series.
I will add this disclaimer.
I do not own the characters for this novel. I am not receiving monetary reimbursement of any type for this piece of fiction.
Oh, most importantly…enjoy.
Feel free to leave a comment on what you thought of the story.
Highlander: The King and I Chapter 21
Duncan struggled to his feet with Methos and Merlin’s help. After a few deep breaths to get his bearings he turned to find Joe offering him his katana. Duncan looked at Excalibur and to his katana and then back to the mystic weapon. MacLeod then bowed to Joe and took his sword back.
Duncan left the group, walking slowly back to the Pilot Stone. He reverently ran his hand across the words in the stone.
“My sword is returned to me. England is safe. Until Arthur is needed again shall Excalibur wait.”
Without hesitation, Duncan swept Excalibur up and plunged it into the stone, exactly where he had drawn it from. When he removed his hand, he felt saddened and less whole. Still, he smiled and sighed, he would definitely miss that sword.
MacLeod walked back to the others and found them examining the crystals. All of them were now burnt and pitted, obviously ruined. One piece remained whole and Duncan was proud to notice it was the one that belonged to Amanda. He reached out and took it. Merlin nodded and turned. He threw the remaining pieces into the night.
“It is time for me to leave then.”
Duncan asked, “What will you do?”
“I will wait and protect England when she needs it. I will return to being a legend, or myth depending on who you ask.”
Methos grinned. “Don’t wait so long to pop up next time.”
“No. I have been absent from friends for too long. Perhaps England can do without me for a few weekends here and there.”
The magician turned to Duncan. “Your honor sir is a formidable force. When the time comes that only one of us can remain, this world would do well for it to be you. I myself, am honored to call you friend.”
“As am I Merlin. I have become part of a legend because of a living myth. I have learned of magic in our lives that I never thought existed. I am proud to have been your student.”
Merlin clapped him on the shoulder. “Farewell Highlander! I look forward to visiting with you in the future. Keep a close eye on that mortal too, he is destined for greatness in his own right.”
“Joe? He’s the best friend an Immortal could have. Anymore greatness and he’ll be a bigger pain than not.”
Methos snorted. “Looks who’s talking.”
With a laugh and a wave of his hand, Merlin walked away. He shook Joe’s hand and walked into the morning sunrise. With another wave of his hand, the darkness crept back in. It was, after all, night in England.
Duncan noticed the fog too, where had that come from? The Pilot Stone was a dark shadow. Duncan moved towards it and could not see Excalibur at all, or the writing that had been so prominently displayed.
“Was it all a dream?”
Methos laughed. “Of course not. He just loves his little tricks, that’s all. If you should truly need Excalibur, you shall find it. Call it a trust for us kingly types.”
Duncan returned the smile. “At least those kingly types that can draw it.”
“Ouch MacLeod. That hurts.”
Joe patted Duncan on the shoulder when the Immortal returned. “Way to go Mac. I never had a doubt.”
Joe laughed. “Nope, never just one doubt. It was more like a whole host of them.”
“Thanks for my sword Joe.”
“Not a problem. He didn’t deserve to touch it anyway, that was blasphemy.”
Methos shrugged and sighed. “Well then, I’ve got to head out. Got plenty of things to do.”
“Wait a minute Methos. You, Merlin, Mordred, Morgan, and Nimue. That’s a lot of immortality in one place.”
Methos raised an eyebrow. “Well it was really up north with Merlin.”
“How many Immortals did you run into in Camelot?”
Methos almost giggled as he turned and began to walk into the fog. “Remind me to tell you about Guinevere sometime.”
Methos’ laughter echoed out of the fog and he vanished from sight.
Duncan shouted after him. “Methos!”
* * *
Merlin looked into the lake and sighed. He was so tired and yet so excited. What MacLeod had told him before they had reached Stonehenge was a godsend. The Highlander was a student of science and yet he had taught magic to Merlin. It worked for MacLeod’s cousin. It may have been only a dream, but to have a dream as real as that would be worth a thousand lifetimes to him.
“I must believe in myself. I must believe in her. I must believe in my need of her.”
Merlin sank to his knees before the lush vegetation on the shore of the lake. He repeated the mantra to himself and willed himself to truly, for the first time in his whole existence, believe in the magic of love.
He could never guess how long he knelt there, or how often he had the stray thought of quitting this insane idea. But then he was gripped by his longing for his love, his self, his soul.
Merlin renewed his effort. He chanted and believed every word and thought. Then he prayed to all the old Gods of heaven and earth.
Finally, he whispered. “Please Nimue, I need you.”
The silence was shattered by a great splash of water beyond the reeds. With new tears streaming down his face, Merlin splashed into the shallows and swept aside the reeds, uncaring of the cuts and lacerations to his hands.
She was there! Nimue was there!
She managed to get to her feet in the water and looked at him. “My love. My dear sweet Merlin, I have come back to you. I told you that you would find a way. Our love could never be separated forever.”
Merlin gathered her up in his arms and wept. “My dearest Nimue. We shall never again be apart. I love you.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “And I, you.”