Deathstalker Legacy (39 page)

In those confused moments when she’d cut and hacked her way through the furious crowd to fight at Finn’s side . . . surely she couldn’t have seen what she thought she’d seen: the great and legendary hero Finn Durandal only going through the motions, only pretending to duel with the armed men before him. Certainly once she’d joined him, she’d seen him cut down the rioters with great skill and efficiency, showing not a trace of indecision or mercy. Emma felt disloyal even considering the thought that the earlier fighting might not have been everything it seemed, but she had to admit that in so many ways, Finn Durandal the man was nothing like the feted hero whose exploits had inspired her to become Mistworld’s first and only Paragon.

Coming to Logres had been her greatest ambition. Working beside Finn Durandal had been her greatest dream. She should have known better. Never meet your heroes; they’ll always disappoint you. And ambition was just a conceit that distracted you from getting the job done. Here she was, at the pinnacle of her career, and instead of concentrating on her work, rushing out into this city to make it her own, and show the local scumbags who was really in charge, she was standing dithering on an empty rooftop, trying to find answers to questions that made no sense.

But still the questions wouldn’t leave her alone, nagging at her mind. In some way she didn’t understand yet, these questions were important. They mattered.

Her gravity sled hovered beside her like a faithful hound, its engine barely ticking over. She glanced at it fondly. It was good to have one old friend with her, one thing she could still depend on. She’d brought the sled with her all the way from Rhiannon, paying the passage herself when the authorities on Logres refused to cover the cost. Bureaucrats. Penny-pinchers. Emma had spent years customizing the sled, all but rebuilding it to meet her exactingly high standards, adding extra weapons and shielding and a whole bunch of (mostly legal) extra options. It was fast and powerful and full of surprises, and she’d back it against anything the bad guys had to offer. When she finally retired (many years from now, of course), Emma planned to license the sled to the military. She wouldn’t be greedy. She wouldn’t ask for a fortune. Just a percentage.

She stood on the very edge of the roof, the tips of her boots actually poking out over the long drop, and looked out over the city. Under the lowering sky, heavy with dark clouds still stained with blood from the newly risen sun, the Parade of the Endless stretched away for miles in every direction, thousands of buildings packed tightly together, full of millions of people. Those people were why she was here. They were her responsibility, her duty. Her flock. Hers, to protect against the wolves and other less obvious predators. She looked out over the great towers and spires and domes, the mile-long bridges, the slender elevated walkways and spiraling roads, and tried to see the great and marvelous city she’d dreamed of serving for so long. But all she saw was the stupid anger, the dumb stubborn viciousness, in the faces of the rioting crowd. The perfect people of the perfect city had slaughtered Paragons, and gloried in it. The wind that blew around her was suddenly bitterly cold, and full of omens, and Emma Steel wanted nothing more than to go home, back to familiar sights and familiar villains, and evils she understood.

And then, finally, there he was; gliding smoothly through the air towards her on top of the range gravity sled, standing tall and proud, the cold wind barely ruffling his famous golden curls. The one and only Finn Durandal. He settled his sled down beside hers, and stepped elegantly down to favor her with a formal bow. Up close, he was every bit as big and handsome and impressive as she could have hoped, but Emma couldn’t help noticing that his frank and open smile didn’t even touch his eyes. She pushed the thought aside, telling herself she was only seeing what her suspicions wanted her to see, and stepped forward to sweep him into her customary hug. He froze inside her arms, his body becoming stiff and tense and unyielding, and she let him go immediately. She stepped back again, a faint flush of embarrassment darkening her coffee cheeks. Lewis hadn’t minded . . .

“Welcome to Logres, Emma Steel,” said Finn. His voice was warm, pleasant, but essentially neutral. “Sorry I haven’t been around before, but I’ve been very busy. Really. You have no idea. Logres is a big planet, with a huge population; and with Douglas and Lewis gone, I’ve been run off my feet. Even I can’t be everywhere at once. Still; here we are, together at last. Partners. I’ve been looking forward to working with you. I’m sure we can learn all sorts of useful things from each other. And it’ll be good to have someone to watch my back again. Logres can be a dangerous place, for the unprepared. So; climb aboard your sled, Emma, and I’ll give you the grand tour. Show you the ropes. Get you started. I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time at all. Crime is crime, after all, and villains are villains wherever you go. And do call me Finn; we don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

And that was it. The whole welcome speech and introduction, all over in under a minute. Lots of smiles and eye contact, but no real warmth. And no real information, either. Just a quick presentation that he’d probably rehearsed in front of a mirror before he came out. Lewis had made her feel welcome. Made her feel like a valued partner, even if he did have a tendency to flap a bit about things that didn’t really matter. Emma nodded tightly to Finn, and turned to her gravity sled. She’d known immediately where she was with Lewis. She wasn’t a jot closer to understanding Finn.

She followed him out over the city, the two sleds riding high over the already bustling streets, almost up in the clouds. All the other air traffic gave them plenty of room, from the darting messengers on their slipstreamed boards, to the bulky freight carriers too heavy for the roads. Nobody waved, or even acknowledged their presence, and no one wanted to get too close. Emma was scowling so hard now her brow had begun to hurt. As a Paragon you expected respect, not fear. Something was very wrong in Logres.

And she was pretty sure it all had its base in Finn Durandal. She’d seen all the documentaries, including the drama reconstructions, studied all his major cases, even been a member of his official fan club, back when she was just a kid. He’d done amazing things in his time, especially when he partnered Douglas Campbell and Lewis Deathstalker. The dream team, the media had called them. Finn had been the ideal she’d modeled her life on. But this cold, casual, almost effete man, with his empty words and emptier smile, was nothing like the legend. Just a man, with muscles and a pretty face, and a few flashy fighting skills.

Nothing like the Deathstalker, who never looked anything less than the warrior he was. She had no doubts at all concerning the Deathstalker’s conduct during the riot. Where others had seen cruelty, she had seen only passion. Where others had seen killing, she had seen only duty. Lewis had behaved as a Paragon should.

Finn led her down, out of the clouds and into the city. They swooped down like birds of prey, and all the other traffic scattered to get out of their way as Finn and Emma shot between the tall buildings, rising and falling on the bucking updrafts. The gusting wind had a sharp biting edge at this speed, buffeting around the edges of the sled’s forward force shield, but once again it was the sheer scale of the city below that took Emma’s breath away. Even at the very beginning of the day, with the last of the dawn still leaking out of the sky, already the streets were thronging with people and traffic, bustling back and forth like ants in a colony. Traffic filled the roads, filtered effortlessly through the baffling maze of streets by the city’s central traffic computers. People were on the move, heading out to work, or back from the night shifts, in the city that never slept, never paused, never faltered. And all around, almost overwhelming when seen at such close range, towers and edifices shot up into the sky, fashioned like works of art, sparkling with brilliant lights, and more often that not flashing vivid holo adverts to the crowds below. The city; endlessly alive, vibrant and alert, stretching away like an endless sea of stone and steel, faceted with shimmering glass and precious metals. The greatest jewel of the Empire. Pride and wonder burst in Emma’s heart, to be a part of such a city. There was nothing like it on Mistworld, or Xanadu. Nothing so . . . intense, so alive and full of purpose.

Finn took her lower still, cutting back on his speed now, till they were scudding by barely a dozen feet above the heads of the pedestrians on the main city streets. People looked up to see the two Paragons sail past, and a few of them waved and some of them smiled, but most just stared up coldly, their faces set and grim. As though they were the ones sitting in judgement. Not at all what Emma Steel was used to. She knew she had a hard reputation; she took pride in it. But it had always been her proud boast that only the guilty ever had anything to fear from her.

Finn maneuvered his sled close in beside hers. “Don’t mind them,” he said easily. “They’re just confused. They’ll get over it.”

“They look like they hate us,” said Emma. “Like they can’t trust us. Like we’re not really Paragons anymore.”

“Never expect gratitude from those you serve, Emma. We protect them, do their dirty work for them, even clean up after their messes, but they never appreciate what we do. They don’t care that we do a job no one else can do, that we give our lives to it because it needs to be done. They don’t want to see the blood and suffering our job entails, because then they’d have to admit that they’re part of the problem. If they were all clean-cut, law-abiding citizens, without guilt or secrets or hidden desires, they wouldn’t need us. Would they?”

Emma didn’t know what to say to any of that. It was harsh and cynical, and not too far from what she’d often thought herself, but . . . this was Logres. The homeworld of Humanity, the heart of civilization. Things were supposed to be different here. And the Durandal’s manner was decidedly strange. It was as though he was saying one thing, while meaning quite another, and challenging her to sort out the truth. It was almost as though . . . he was playing with her.

That impression only strengthened as the tour continued, and it rapidly became clear to Emma that Finn was only going through the motions. He was happy enough to point out famous landmarks, and talk vaguely about past cases, but he wasn’t providing any of the the hard information she needed. Like where the main trouble spots were and how to defuse them. Like who the main bad guys were and where she should look for them. Who was on the way up, who was on the way down. Where you could go and who you could talk to to get answers to questions. Simple, straightforward local knowledge that any good peacekeeper needs to know to do the job properly. Finn was talking a lot, but saying nothing. It seemed her first impression of Finn Durandal had been correct after all. There was no fire in him, no passion, nothing to indicate he gave a damn about doing the job and doing it well. About being a Paragon. Finally it all got too much for Emma. She surged forward and steered her sled abruptly in front of his, forcing him to a halt. She glared at Finn, and didn’t even bother to disguise the anger in her voice.

“Is this it? Is this your idea of going on patrol,
partner
? We just fly around, admiring the scenery, and wait for an emergency call to come? We can’t do anything up here! We need to be down there in the thick of it, down on the streets, asking questions and taking names! I checked with Dispatch, first thing this morning; there are hundreds of open and ongoing situations we could be investigating! And there’s no way in hell I’m going to get any sense of how this city operates if you’re not going to tell me anything I can use. Why don’t you show me the Rookery? Lewis said—”

“Never mind what the Deathstalker said! He isn’t a Paragon anymore.” Finn looked at Emma sharply, dropping his calm mask for the first time. His voice was cold, powerful, authoritative. On anyone else, it would probably have worked. “You stay clear of the Rookery, Emma. You’re not ready for that yet. It’s a very dangerous place, even for a Paragon. Perhaps especially for a Paragon. For all your impressive reputation, they’d eat you alive.”

Emma gave him her best sardonic look. “I thought this was supposed to be the most civilized city on the most civilized world in the Empire? Are you actually telling me there’s somewhere on Logres that you’re afraid to go?”

“You only think you know evil,” said Finn. “Because you know Mistworld and Rhiannon. But they’re just amateurs compared to Logres. Only the finest of wines can produce the most poisonous dregs. Only the highest of civilizations can produce the most subtle, most terrible evils. The Rookery distills evil down to its most vicious concentrations. You wouldn’t last ten minutes. When I think you’re ready, when you’ve proved yourself to me, then I’ll take you there. And show you things you never even dreamed of in your worst nightmares, little miss country cousin. Until then, stay out. That’s an order.”

He broke off as a sudden call came in on the Paragon emergency comm channel. Finn and Emma listened intently as Dispatch filled them in on a Hellfire Club bomb blast at Logres’s second main starport, Avalon City. Devils had blown a hole through a starliner’s hull, right next to the hyperdrive engines, and all kinds of deadly energies were spilling out onto the landing pads. Fifty-seven dead, and hundreds mutating, with the figures rising all the time. Finn looked at Emma with something that might almost have been relief.

“Sounds like a bad one, even for the Hellfire Club. I’d better handle it. You fly around the city some more, get a feel for things. Go down onto the streets and talk to people, if that’s how you’re used to doing things. But keep your guard up, and for God’s sake watch your back.
And stay out of the Rookery.
I don’t want to have to write out a report on your death on your first day on the job.”

He turned his sled around without waiting for a reply, and sped off for Avalon City. Emma watched him till he was safely out of range, and then headed straight for the Rookery, using the coordinates Lewis had given her. There had to be some reason why Finn was so keen to keep her away from Logres’s official crime center. Something he didn’t want her to see; something he didn’t want her to know.