Deathstalker Legacy (53 page)

The tall scarlet bat-creature stalked out of the House, its ectoplasm following it. Douglas didn’t know whether to feel insulted or relieved when it was finally gone.

“If nothing else, he does know how to make an exit,” said Jesamine. “The ham.”

Douglas looked at her. “You think he really means it?”

“Who knows, with the Swart Alfair? They’ve been in the Empire for over a century, and we’ve still no idea what makes them tick. What we do know, or more often suspect, is frankly disgusting. You don’t even want to know how they go about breeding. While they have been known to volunteer information, they rarely answer direct questions, and they’ve never once allowed xenobiologists to visit their planet. Creepy bastards the lot of them, darling, and arrogant with it. Possibly with good cause. They lived right here in Lionstone’s back-yard, and she never even knew. Maybe they could hide themselves from the Terror. And if they can do that . . .”

“What else can they do?” Douglas shook his head unhappily.

“It could be a bluff, or it could be our salvation. My head hurts.”

“Do they really ask so much?” said Lewis. “A few worlds, compared to what we stand to gain? Or lose?”

“But if they’re so powerful, why don’t they just take what they want?” said Jesamine.

“Wonderful,” growled Douglas. “More complications. Just what we needed. Any other thoughts that won’t do terrible things to my blood pressure?”

“Just the one,” Lewis said quietly. “And I can pretty much guarantee you’re not going to like it. A really unpleasant comparison has occurred to me. What the Terror did to those people on the Rim planets looked an awful lot like what the ELFs did to those people in the Arena . . . possessing and then feeding on their suffering and emotions . . .”

“You’re right,” said Douglas, also keeping his voice low. “I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it. You keep that thought strictly to yourself for now, Lewis. That’s an order. There’s still a lot of general resentment out there, over the way the espers shut down the Neuman riot; I don’t want that stirred up again. The last thing we need is even more anti-esper feeling. We’re going to need the oversoul’s help, and I can’t afford to have them feeling alienated or unappreciated. If you want to talk to anyone, Lewis; talk to the oversoul. Maybe it can derive something useful from your . . . comparison. Otherwise; you keep your mouth shut on the subject.”

“Oh hell,” said Jesamine. “Now what?”

Douglas and Lewis looked round in time to see one of the honorable Members striding out onto the floor of the House, his head held high. Michel du Bois, representative for Virimonde, stopped directly before the Throne, and bowed deeply. When he spoke, his rich, dramatic voice rolled across the House.

“Your Majesty, honored Members, it seems to me there is one obvious answer to the threat of the Terror that has not been touched on yet.”

“Is there, by God?” said Douglas. “You do surprise me, du Bois. I can’t think how we missed it. Feel free to enlighten us.”

“It’s really quite simple, your Majesty,” said du Bois, spreading his arms in a familiar expansive gesture. “Owen Deathstalker must return to save us all, as he did before. Virimonde’s noblest son, the greatest hero Humanity has ever known. His legend always said he would return in the hour of the Empire’s greatest need. And we on Virimonde have never believed the blessed Owen was dead. He cannot die. He passed through the Madness Maze, and moved beyond his humanity, becoming something finer and more glorious. He was our savior in Lionstone’s time, and can be again. We must call out to him with one great voice, implore his help and pray for his return!”

“This is getting needlessly messianic,” said Lewis, but his voice was lost in an outburst of mass shouting and cheering and stamping of feet from the House. The honorable Members loved the idea; not least because it didn’t actually require them to do anything. Let the blessed Owen save Humanity, as he had two centuries before. The cheering and applauding went on for some time, an almost religious hysteria taking over the House, as though they’d just been tossed a lifeline by God herself. Du Bois smiled benevolently about him. Douglas’s face remained impassive, but Lewis was scowling openly, his ugly face dark and disturbed. Jesamine looked at him worriedly. He still had his gun in his hand. Douglas waited patiently for the din to die down, and when it didn’t, he gestured to Lewis, who immediately raised his disrupter. Du Bois fell back a step, and the acclamation of the House broke off raggedly, as the honorable Members got ready to duck again.

“Unfortunately,” Douglas said calmly, “all the records concerning Owen Deathstalker’s final fate, whatever it might have been, are lost to us. Destroyed two hundred years ago by Robert and Constance and the Parliament of that time, for reasons that no doubt seemed good to them. As to the others who passed through the Madness Maze and became superhuman; we know Jack Random and Ruby Journey are dead, killed in the last great confrontation with Shub before their awakening. Diana Vertue brought the bodies home in what was left of the old Deathstalker Standing, and now Jack and Ruby lie in state in the Victory Gardens behind this House. Buried in heroes’ graves, with statues raised to their honored memory. You’re welcome to pray for their return, but I wouldn’t expect an early reply. Tobias Moon remains on Lachrymae Christi, a hermit, whom no one has seen in over a century. We will of course try to reach him, but according to the legends his abilities were nothing compared to Owen’s. And then there’s Captain Silence. Who also disappeared a century ago, his fate as much a mystery as the blessed Owen’s.

“Honorable Members; we should remember that Owen Deathstalker left us, at the hour of his greatest triumph, and no one knows why, or where he went. The heroes of old . . . are gone, all of them. I say to this House, we cannot just sit back and wait for the blessed Owen to show up again, to save the day one more time! Legends are legends, we must deal with facts. Worlds are in danger. We must make preparations to defend ourselves!”

“Of course,” said du Bois, his voice the very epitome of calm and reason. “But Owen knew of the Terror. He knew it was coming, and he seemed to know how it might be defeated. So; while we raise the armies of Humanity to stand ready to hold back the Terror, I say we send out our greatest heroes to search for Owen Deathstalker! Send out the Paragons on their greatest and noblest Quest; to find the beloved Owen and bring him home!”

This time the cheering and shouting and massed applause all but shook the great chamber on its foundations. The House really liked the sound of this idea. Douglas considered the matter, and found he did too, for all sorts of practical reasons. Send the Paragons out on a Quest. Even beyond the Parade, it would help repair their image, while getting them away from the general population long enough for everyone to forget the excesses of the Neuman riot. And who knew . . . they might just find Owen. Douglas ran this by Lewis, who nodded slowly in agreement.

“Do you want me to join the Quest?” he said carefully. “I am his descendant, even if not directly. I am a Deathstalker.”

“You’re not a Paragon anymore,” said Douglas. “You’re my Champion. But yes, Lewis, I think you should go. As a Deathstalker.”

And because it’s a really good way to get rid of me,
thought Lewis, not really all that bitterly.
Send me off on a Quest, away from Jesamine. He knows I’ll go, if he asks. Because I’m a Deathstalker, and I know my duty. Because he’s a King, and my friend. Oh Jesamine; I finally found you, and now I have to go away and leave you to marry another man. Please understand . . .

He looked across at Jesamine, but she wasn’t looking at him.

The uproar in the House finally died down, not least because the honorable Members were exhausting themselves, and King Douglas solemnly gave his approval to the idea of a great Quest for the Paragons. He officially put the proposal to the House, and there was an overwhelming vote of Aye (A few timid souls wanted the Paragons to stay, so they could lead Humanity’s forces against the Terror, but they were quickly shouted down). It was decided that the Quest would begin in two weeks’ time, after the Royal Wedding, and after some of the details and practicalities could be sorted out. Because when you got right down to it, no one had a clue just where to send the Paragons to look for the missing Owen. It was a big Empire, with hundreds of planets well divorced from the mainstream. There were lots of places a man could go if he wanted to stay hidden, as many a Paragon in pursuit of a villain had already discovered, to their cost. Michel du Bois fixed Lewis with a cold, accusatory stare.

“You are a descendant of the blessed Owen, sir Champion. You bear the Deathstalker name. Do you swear before this House that neither you nor any member of your family have any old, secret records concerning Owen’s fate? Some concealed family history, preserved in defiance of the old edict? If you know anything about Owen Deathstalker’s fate, or his possible whereabouts today, I charge you on the authority of this House to reveal those secrets to us now, and turn over any and all papers and documents your family may possess; that they may be studied by experts!”

“My branch of the family are only distant cousins to Owen,” Lewis said carefully. “We only took the Deathstalker name as a courtesy. We don’t know anything more than you do, Michel. King Robert and Queen Constance were very thorough. You have to wonder if perhaps they had good reason . . .”

“And let me remind the honorable Member for Virimonde that no one makes demands of my Champion,” said Douglas, glaring coldly at du Bois. “Nor should you take it on yourself to claim the authority of the House in any matter, without first going through me as Speaker. Now return to your Seat before I have you charged with contempt. You’ve had your moment of glory. You’ve got your Quest. Settle for that.”

“Thanks, Douglas,” said Lewis.

“You’re welcome, Lewis,” said Douglas.

They didn’t look at each other.

And Michel du Bois didn’t budge from his position in front of the Throne. Instead, he started haranguing Douglas over where the funding was to come from to support the Paragons’ Quest. He was determined his Quest should not get bogged down in financial subcommittees, as had threatened to happen with the Parade of the Paragons. The King shot down du Bois’s problems and objections one by one, backed by the rest of the House; but Lewis wasn’t listening. He was looking down at the black gold ring on his finger. The Deathstalker ring. Owen’s old ring . . . a solid piece of legend that had unexpectedly resurfaced from the past. Where had that mysterious little man called Vaughn got it from? Why had he been so determined that Lewis should have it? Was the ring’s return a sign? A warning? And why had Lewis felt so strongly that he shouldn’t mention it to du Bois? Lewis studied the ring on his finger, and a cold breeze caressed the back of his neck. The old Clan ring made him a Deathstalker, hell,
the
Deathstalker, inasmuch as anything could now. It was like having Owen looking over his shoulder, giving him his approval and pointing him on to greater things . . . Which was a scary bloody thought, if you liked.

He came out of his reverie to find that du Bois had finally, reluctantly, returned to his Seat, and the House was agreeing to the Speaker’s proposal that the Parade of the Paragons would be an excellent time to announce the Quest to the Empire; to gain maximum publicity. The media were going to need some good news to put up against the coming of the Terror. As it was, peacekeepers all across the worlds would be working overtime to prevent riots and panic in the streets. Lewis snapped to attention again as King Douglas announced that his Champion, Lewis Deathstalker, would be leading the Parade of Paragons. The House applauded politely. Lewis leaned in close beside Douglas.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You said it yourself; I’m no longer a Paragon. Why not let Finn lead the Parade? It was his idea, after all.”

“I want you to lead the Parade because you’re my Champion,” said Douglas. “To show I still have faith in you, after the Neuman riot. And I’m still not sure about Finn. Word is, Emma Steel has been doing all his work lately. He probably only came up with the Parade so he could lead it and smile for the cameras. No, Lewis; you’ll lead the Parade, because I say so. Any more problems?”

“Well, since you ask,” said Lewis, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to scatter the Paragons across the Empire on a Quest that’s probably going to come to nothing? Who’s going to keep order on the worlds, while the Paragons are all off chasing ghosts and shadows?”

“The peacekeepers,” said Douglas. “They can hold the fort until my Paragons return. Let them earn their money for once. They’re always saying they want more responsibility. The Parade and the Quest are necessary, Lewis. Necessary for public morale. You’ll lead the Parade, and you’ll smile while you do it. That is an order from your King. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very clear. Can I ask one more question?”

“If you must.”

“Assuming Owen is alive out there, somewhere . . . assuming we find him; what if he doesn’t want to come back? If he’s stayed missing all these years, he just might have a damned good reason.”

“You tell him to come back,” said Douglas, looking straight into Lewis’s eyes for the first time. “Or everything he did, everything he achieved, will have all been for nothing.”

“Oh great,” said Lewis. “I’m sure that’s just what he’s going to want to hear.”

 

It was the day of the Parade, the day of the Paragons, crossing from one side of the Parade of the Endless to the other. The media had been short-stroking the event on all the news channels almost exclusively for the last twenty-four hours, praising and glorifying the Paragons just as in the good old days. The crime and docudrama channels had been running old (successful) Paragon cases end to end, showing the downfall of villains and terrorists and monsters, just to remind everyone how much reason they had to love the King’s Justice. As a result, pretty much the whole city turned out to watch the Parade; if only so they wouldn’t have to think about the Terror for a while. Parliament had put an absolute embargo on showing any of the actual recordings of what had happened out on the Rim, but inevitably some illegal, tenth-generation copies were going the rounds, turning up on pirate and underground channels, until the peacekeepers moved in to shut them down. All across the Empire, people were scared, even if they weren’t sure what of, yet. The Terror was just a name, for now. Parliament was determined to keep it that way for as long as possible. And certainly until well after the Quest had been announced.