fic: Tower of Strength [PG-15] p 13/14
Title: Tower of Strength
Author: A Lanart
Characters: Richie Ryan & Siannon O'Niall (OFC)
Rating: PG-15 (UK). (Probably an R in the US)
Warnings: Swearing, Angst and possibly disturbing subject matter.
Spoilers: Highlander seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: Davis/Panzer productions own the Highlander universe
Concepts and characters used without permission.
Original characters and ideas are Mine, so is the story.
No profit is being made off this by anyone, especially me!
Title courtesy of the Mission, from the song of the same name,
Summary: Richie's back in Seacouver after the events in 'Testimony', where he meets an *old* friend.
Part 13
The warehouse was lit dimly, but there was just enough light to see each other. They circled warily, swords drawn.
"Well, Aislin, or should I say *Siannon*. I see you finally decided to stop cowering like the weakling you are and resolve this little disagreement once and for all." He drawled, taunting her, his handsome features drawn into a sneer of contempt. She smiled grimly at him.
"Don't mock what you can't understand, Robert." She pulled off her coat, throwing it to one side. He did the same. Unencumbered they continued to stalk each other.
"Shall we?" He invited.
"That's what I'm here for," Siannon retorted. At some unspoken signal, battle was joined.
De Souza had the advantages of height and weight over Siannon, she had her speed.
Consequently they were fairly well matched. He had no qualms about using every trick in his book to win, it did not matter that Siannon was a woman, she was his opponent, his adversary and as such could expect no mercy from him. Siannon watched him closely, gauging his strengths and his weaknesses, observing carefully for any gaps that would give her the advantage. All traces of the burning anger that had driven her to this point were gone, to be replaced by a cold, controlled fury. She had become nothing more than an immortal trying to survive the Game.
After a while they both began to tire, Siannon losing the edge off her speed, and de Souza's sword work becoming sloppier. They started to get more, and deeper, cuts in past each other's guards. She started to lose her focus as her mind began to wander and her thoughts began to overwhelm her.
Do I really want to win this? Do I want to carry on for another decade or century or millennia? There's never going to be any more than this, the killing never ends. And when I do find some respite, it's over in the blink of an eye. Oh Laurie, I miss you so much. I wish there was a way to be with you, still. Her body continued to block and parry without conscious control, but lacked the finesse of her focused skill. De Souza took advantage of her distraction and began to inflict some serious damage on her. Neither of them noticed the sound of a motorbike screeching to a halt outside.
Richie had an idea of where they would be. There was an area of disused warehouses down by the docks that had always been popular with immortals for their challenges as it was quiet and usually deserted. He pulled onto the dockside road with a squeal of tyres and sped between the warehouses, watching carefully for any signs of Siannon. He spotted her car fairly quickly, pulling up outside the place in a shower of gravel, hoping he had not arrived too late.
Leaving his helmet with the bike, Richie entered the warehouse as quietly as possible. He knew they would both be warned of his presence by the buzz, but until then he wanted to keep his presence a secret. In the distance he could hear the clang of metal against metal, the characteristic ring of swords clashing against each other. He made his way tentatively further into the complex, drawing his sword as he went: alert, watchful. He felt them before he saw them, but the clash of swords did not diminish in any way. It appeared they had not registered his presence. Slowly, carefully, he drew closer to the sounds of combat. When he finally rounded the last corner and caught sight of the two combatants, he had to restrain himself from ignoring everything he had been taught and rushing in with no thought for the consequences. Richie managed it, but it was incredibly difficult; and he watched, his heart in his mouth, as the two duelling immortals steadily cut each other into pieces.
De Souza finally managed to gain the advantage, and had beaten Siannon to her knees. All the cold fire and fury had left her, and she felt bereft and empty. Acutely aware of the cold and damp seeping up through her bones, she gave up. There was nothing left to fight for so she let the grip on her sword loosen. He gave her a twisted, evil looking smirk, raising his sword for the killing blow.
"It ends here," he said. He had barely begun to move when a red-headed tornado knocked him completely off balance, sending the intended killing blow wide. Siannon seemed to snap back into reality.
"Richie! Stay out of this." She spat out as she clambered to her feet, tightening her lax hold on her sword. "It has nothing to do with you." Richie glared at her defiantly, his own sword drawn and ready.
"It does if you're just going to give up." He turned to face de Souza, almost ablaze with his own anger. "I'm not going to let you do this." De Souza gave him a cold and twisted smile, which did not touch the rest of his face at all.
"Oh, but I'm afraid you will. After all you aren't going to have much option to do otherwise shortly," he said and produced a gun that he had concealed. "You can't interfere if you're dead." With that he fired off two shots in quick succession, laughing as Richie crumpled to the ground. "Well that takes care of him for now." He replaced the gun, turning back to face Siannon. "Shall we continue, my dear?" She gave herself a mental shake, trying to throw off the shock that de Souza's callousness had produced in her.
"You bastard." She growled. He grinned at her, with disgusting cheerfulness.
"How charming. I think I'll take his head after I've taken yours, then at least you won't be lonely." Siannon raised her sword.
"Over my dead body." She ground out through clenched teeth. De Souza laughed.
"That, my dear, is the whole point." He raised his sword to parry as she sprang at him with renewed ferocity, making every lightning quick cut and slash count for something. De Souza began to look worried.
Siannon was slicing into him with an almost clinical precision, her heart fully in the fight now that the stakes were that much higher. It was not just her own life she was fighting for, but Richie's too. She watched him like a hawk, ready to take advantage of the tiniest slip; waiting, waiting. There! If she could just...
She let him cut a deep gash into her, and before he could recover...
The first thing Richie was aware of was that the ground was cold, wet and hard. The second was that he could hear the renewed clash of swords, even though his eyes did not appear to be working yet. He tried to move, and couldn't. He listened carefully, only to hear a muted gasp of pain followed by the double thuds of a body and head hitting the ground separately. He groaned, struggling to at least curl up before the quickening started in an effort to protect himself. He almost missed the whisper in that instant before the pyrotechnics started. Just one word.
"Richie?" Siannon's voice. Relief flooded through him at the same time as everything went wild. He flung his arms over his head to keep the flying glass from cutting into his face, deciding that being this close to a quickening, that was not one he'd taken, was an experience he could well have done without at this particular juncture. At last the screams ended and the flying debris settled. Richie carefully removed his arms from over his head and gingerly opened his eyes. Everything seemed to be working properly, though his hands were covered in nicks and cuts. He scrambled into a sitting position and looked around for Siannon.
Author: A Lanart
Characters: Richie Ryan & Siannon O'Niall (OFC)
Rating: PG-15 (UK). (Probably an R in the US)
Warnings: Swearing, Angst and possibly disturbing subject matter.
Spoilers: Highlander seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: Davis/Panzer productions own the Highlander universe
Concepts and characters used without permission.
Original characters and ideas are Mine, so is the story.
No profit is being made off this by anyone, especially me!
Title courtesy of the Mission, from the song of the same name,
Summary: Richie's back in Seacouver after the events in 'Testimony', where he meets an *old* friend.
Part 13
The warehouse was lit dimly, but there was just enough light to see each other. They circled warily, swords drawn.
"Well, Aislin, or should I say *Siannon*. I see you finally decided to stop cowering like the weakling you are and resolve this little disagreement once and for all." He drawled, taunting her, his handsome features drawn into a sneer of contempt. She smiled grimly at him.
"Don't mock what you can't understand, Robert." She pulled off her coat, throwing it to one side. He did the same. Unencumbered they continued to stalk each other.
"Shall we?" He invited.
"That's what I'm here for," Siannon retorted. At some unspoken signal, battle was joined.
De Souza had the advantages of height and weight over Siannon, she had her speed.
Consequently they were fairly well matched. He had no qualms about using every trick in his book to win, it did not matter that Siannon was a woman, she was his opponent, his adversary and as such could expect no mercy from him. Siannon watched him closely, gauging his strengths and his weaknesses, observing carefully for any gaps that would give her the advantage. All traces of the burning anger that had driven her to this point were gone, to be replaced by a cold, controlled fury. She had become nothing more than an immortal trying to survive the Game.
After a while they both began to tire, Siannon losing the edge off her speed, and de Souza's sword work becoming sloppier. They started to get more, and deeper, cuts in past each other's guards. She started to lose her focus as her mind began to wander and her thoughts began to overwhelm her.
Do I really want to win this? Do I want to carry on for another decade or century or millennia? There's never going to be any more than this, the killing never ends. And when I do find some respite, it's over in the blink of an eye. Oh Laurie, I miss you so much. I wish there was a way to be with you, still. Her body continued to block and parry without conscious control, but lacked the finesse of her focused skill. De Souza took advantage of her distraction and began to inflict some serious damage on her. Neither of them noticed the sound of a motorbike screeching to a halt outside.
Richie had an idea of where they would be. There was an area of disused warehouses down by the docks that had always been popular with immortals for their challenges as it was quiet and usually deserted. He pulled onto the dockside road with a squeal of tyres and sped between the warehouses, watching carefully for any signs of Siannon. He spotted her car fairly quickly, pulling up outside the place in a shower of gravel, hoping he had not arrived too late.
Leaving his helmet with the bike, Richie entered the warehouse as quietly as possible. He knew they would both be warned of his presence by the buzz, but until then he wanted to keep his presence a secret. In the distance he could hear the clang of metal against metal, the characteristic ring of swords clashing against each other. He made his way tentatively further into the complex, drawing his sword as he went: alert, watchful. He felt them before he saw them, but the clash of swords did not diminish in any way. It appeared they had not registered his presence. Slowly, carefully, he drew closer to the sounds of combat. When he finally rounded the last corner and caught sight of the two combatants, he had to restrain himself from ignoring everything he had been taught and rushing in with no thought for the consequences. Richie managed it, but it was incredibly difficult; and he watched, his heart in his mouth, as the two duelling immortals steadily cut each other into pieces.
De Souza finally managed to gain the advantage, and had beaten Siannon to her knees. All the cold fire and fury had left her, and she felt bereft and empty. Acutely aware of the cold and damp seeping up through her bones, she gave up. There was nothing left to fight for so she let the grip on her sword loosen. He gave her a twisted, evil looking smirk, raising his sword for the killing blow.
"It ends here," he said. He had barely begun to move when a red-headed tornado knocked him completely off balance, sending the intended killing blow wide. Siannon seemed to snap back into reality.
"Richie! Stay out of this." She spat out as she clambered to her feet, tightening her lax hold on her sword. "It has nothing to do with you." Richie glared at her defiantly, his own sword drawn and ready.
"It does if you're just going to give up." He turned to face de Souza, almost ablaze with his own anger. "I'm not going to let you do this." De Souza gave him a cold and twisted smile, which did not touch the rest of his face at all.
"Oh, but I'm afraid you will. After all you aren't going to have much option to do otherwise shortly," he said and produced a gun that he had concealed. "You can't interfere if you're dead." With that he fired off two shots in quick succession, laughing as Richie crumpled to the ground. "Well that takes care of him for now." He replaced the gun, turning back to face Siannon. "Shall we continue, my dear?" She gave herself a mental shake, trying to throw off the shock that de Souza's callousness had produced in her.
"You bastard." She growled. He grinned at her, with disgusting cheerfulness.
"How charming. I think I'll take his head after I've taken yours, then at least you won't be lonely." Siannon raised her sword.
"Over my dead body." She ground out through clenched teeth. De Souza laughed.
"That, my dear, is the whole point." He raised his sword to parry as she sprang at him with renewed ferocity, making every lightning quick cut and slash count for something. De Souza began to look worried.
Siannon was slicing into him with an almost clinical precision, her heart fully in the fight now that the stakes were that much higher. It was not just her own life she was fighting for, but Richie's too. She watched him like a hawk, ready to take advantage of the tiniest slip; waiting, waiting. There! If she could just...
She let him cut a deep gash into her, and before he could recover...
The first thing Richie was aware of was that the ground was cold, wet and hard. The second was that he could hear the renewed clash of swords, even though his eyes did not appear to be working yet. He tried to move, and couldn't. He listened carefully, only to hear a muted gasp of pain followed by the double thuds of a body and head hitting the ground separately. He groaned, struggling to at least curl up before the quickening started in an effort to protect himself. He almost missed the whisper in that instant before the pyrotechnics started. Just one word.
"Richie?" Siannon's voice. Relief flooded through him at the same time as everything went wild. He flung his arms over his head to keep the flying glass from cutting into his face, deciding that being this close to a quickening, that was not one he'd taken, was an experience he could well have done without at this particular juncture. At last the screams ended and the flying debris settled. Richie carefully removed his arms from over his head and gingerly opened his eyes. Everything seemed to be working properly, though his hands were covered in nicks and cuts. He scrambled into a sitting position and looked around for Siannon.