Deathstalker Legacy (73 page)

Finn smiled easily at her, apparently completely relaxed. “Yes, Anne; why did you do that, exactly? Why did you come to me, and present me with the evidence that would damn and destroy Lewis and Jesamine?”

“Because . . . they let me down. All three of them. I would have made them heroes. Legends. The greatest King and Queen and Champion this Empire had ever known. I could have done it. And then it all fell apart, just because Lewis and Jes couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I gave them every chance, every warning. I gave up all the things I wanted, all the things I needed; to create that legend, that dream . . . all for them! But they weren’t prepared to do the same. They threw it all away, threw away all the things they could have been and achieved . . . all my hard work . . . because they’d rather be weak. Just to satisfy their own desires. That was when I realized I was wasting my time. Wasting my life, on people who weren’t worthy of me. So I came to you, Finn Durandal. You have ambition, and you’re not distracted by small things. Work with me, and I’ll make you great. I’ve already made you Champion. I could make you King, if you want.”

“They didn’t care about you, did they?” said Finn. “Not really. All the things you did for them, and they didn’t love you.”

“They never appreciated me,” said Anne. “I made them what they were . . . and they never really gave a damn about
me
.”

“I will see that you get everything you ever wanted,” Finn said gently. “I can do that. I know people . . . You can be everything you ever wanted to be. I’m not your friend, like they were, but I always pay my debts.”

“Yes,” said Anne. “We understand each other. We’ll make a great partnership. Achieve great things . . . When did you first realize that you didn’t have to be what other people wanted you to be? When did you first realize that you couldn’t rely on other people to make you happy? That you had to do it all yourself?”

Finn considered the matter. “It took a long time to sink in. I was happy enough, being a Paragon. And then, eventually, I began to realize that people were letting me getting away with things, things I shouldn’t have been allowed to get away with, because I was . . . who I was. And I began to wonder what else I could get away with . . . Even so, I might have gone on as I was, playing the hero, if Douglas had only given me what I deserved. What I’d earned. I should have been the Champion. The role was mine by right.”

“And now you’ve got it,” said Anne.

“Oh, I don’t want it now. It’s too late, now. I want much more than this, and I’m going to have it. I’m going to prove myself the very best there is, in the only way that really matters; by walking right over everyone else.”

“Why settle for Champion,” said Anne, “when you can be King?”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Finn, smiling. “You don’t feel any guilt, do you? Over what we’ve done, and what we’re going to do?”

“No,” said Anne. “I spent all my life working for other people, and all for nothing. I want something for myself now. I want . . . to be happy, for once. And I don’t care what it takes, or what it costs.”

“Well, well,” said Finn. “Where have you been all my life? Work with me, Anne, and I promise you’ll get everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed. Not because I’m your friend, but because it’s in my interest to do so. You can live your dreams, Anne; even the ones you never dared speak aloud. And I’ll never judge you, because I don’t care. And after a while . . . you won’t miss your friends at all.”

“Friends . . . are overrated,” said Anne. “You should know that. I did some checking on you, Finn. Your life is almost as empty as mine. Haven’t you ever had any friends? Lovers? Loves? Anyone you ever cared for?”

“No,” said Finn. “I don’t seem to have the knack. I know the words: love, compassion, caring . . . but they mean nothing to me. I don’t think I’m capable of them. For a long time I thought everyone else was the same, that they were just pretending to feel these things, like me. But they do; and that’s what makes it so easy for people like me to manipulate them. That’s why we’re going to tear everything down, Anne; because if we can’t be happy, why should they?”

“You have a way with words,” said Anne.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about these things,” said Finn.

“They hurt me,” said Anne. “By not caring about me, by not noticing me. We’ll make them all pay, won’t we, Finn?”

“Whatever it takes?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“Oh, we’re going to have such fun,” said Finn Durandal.

 

Lewis had never stolen a starship before, but in his experience it wasn’t that difficult. It happened all the time, when he was a Paragon. Which was how he came to know all the tricks, all the ways of walking past a ship’s security systems like they weren’t even there. (There were all kinds of precautions ship owners could take to prevent this, but mostly they never bothered; because it was expensive. Better to let the ship and cargo be stolen, and then pad your insurance claim.) So Lewis wasn’t expecting any trouble when he and Jes strode confidently into the starport terminal.

Sneaking past the security men was the easiest part. Lewis knew all the blind spots, all the weaknesses in the system; he’d been trying to get them fixed for years. He suspected they were left open deliberately, so certain criminal elements could use them for smuggling and other scams, but he’d never been able to prove it . . . because he never had the time. As he’d told Emma Steel on her arrival: you couldn’t sweat the small stuff or you’d never get anything done. And now here he was, taking advantage of the very loopholes he’d tried to shut down, and proving he was right all along. Sometimes the air in his life was so thick with irony he could almost chew on it.

He and Jes were doing really well, right up until they had to pass the very last security check, at the edge of the landing pads. Lewis could see the ships from where he was, standing unsuspecting under the bright lights on the pads like so many tourists waiting to be pickpocketed. Lewis wasn’t expecting any trouble. It was just one bored security guard, sitting behind a desk with a vid soap running on his security monitor. Lewis’s and Jesamine’s holo faces matched the fake IDs he’d brought with him from his lockup, and he’d already removed the security seals from his energy weapon, so it wouldn’t set off any alarms. (An old prerogative allowed to all Paragons, for when they had to work undercover.)

But when he and Jesamine passed entirely casually through the metal detector arch, their holo disguises sparked and shimmered and shorted out, and it seemed like every damned alarm and siren in the starport all went off at once. Lewis swore fiercely. He’d been so concerned over his various hidden weapons and tech that he’d forgotten all about the metal holoface collars he and Jesamine both wore. The guard behind the desk took one look at Lewis’s familiar ugly face, and all but had a coronary as he scrambled up off his chair. He didn’t even consider trying to stop the famed Deathstalker. He just ran for his life, heading for the center of the terminal building and screaming at the top of his lungs all the way. Lewis grabbed Jesamine by the arm and urged her on through the last of the terminal towards the landing pads.

“What is it?” said Jesamine. “What just happened?”

“I screwed up,” snapped Lewis. “Now run! We can still make it to the ships!”

They sprinted through the last part of the terminal, and people scattered to get out of their way. Lewis had his gun openly in his hand now, and did his best to look like he was ready to use it. People recognized his face and Jesamine’s, and called out their names, but no one tried to stop them. Lewis burst out onto the landing pads with Jesamine at his side, and then cursed loudly and skidded to a halt. Forming up between him and Jesamine and the rows of waiting starships were hundreds of armed men, hurrying in from all directions. A great cry went up from them as they spotted the two fugitives, and Lewis dragged Jesamine back into the terminal doorway, where the steelglass windows would at least give them some protection. Jesamine jerked her arm free.

“Stop yanking me about! I’m not a child; talk to me!”

Lewis activated the force shield on his wrist, and the glowing force shield sprang into being on his left arm. “Sorry. Bit preoccupied at the moment.”

“Who the hell are those men?” said Jesamine. “They’ve all got guns, but none of them are wearing uniforms. Damn it, I knew I should have insisted we stop off long enough to get me a gun. Or two.”

“They’re not peacekeepers,” said Lewis grimly. “Or port security. And they look far too professional for local bounty hunters, so . . . Best guess, they’re Pure Humanity fanatics, same bastards who hunted down the Ecstatics. They’ve already demonstrated they have no problem killing Paragons at the Neuman riot . . . so an ex-Champion shouldn’t bother them at all. I suppose I should be flattered they sent so many men after me . . .

“This is really bad, Jes. Not just the odds, though they’re pretty bad too. Peacekeepers or security men might have been willing to take us alive; these creeps won’t do that. Someone really wants us dead.” He looked at her sadly. “You should run, Jes. I’ll hold them back. Give you time to get away. It’s stupid for both of us to die here.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Jesamine said firmly. “We’ll get out of this. You’re the Deathstalker, remember? And . . . I’d rather die with you, than live without you. Never thought of myself as the sentimental kind, but I suppose you learn something new every day. Now stop being chivalrous, and work out a way to kill those bastards!”

Lewis grinned, drew two of his throwing knives from their hiding places, and offered them to Jesamine. “Can you fight, Jes?”

She snorted loudly, snatched the knives from his hand and flourished them expertly. “You bet your arse, Deathstalker. Some of the pigsties I played when I was starting out, you didn’t dare leave your dressing room to go to the toilet unless you were armed to the teeth and willing to fight dirty. I’ve always been able to look out for myself.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” said Lewis. “Guard my back, Jes, and don’t show them any mercy, because they sure as hell won’t be showing us any. I can see half a dozen ships my skeleton key should be able to get us into, but we’re going to have to fight our way through those bastards to get to them. The odds are bad, but they won’t be expecting a frontal attack, so surprise will be on our side. But Jes; once we start, we can’t stop. We run for the ships and whatever happens, we keep going. Because either we fight our way through, or we die out there, on the pads.”

“God, you’re a cheerful bastard to be around,” said Jesamine. “You’d better not be this moody at breakfast.” She looked at the small army of assassins heading their way, and hefted her knives uncertainly. “We’re really going to meet them head on? Just the two of us?”

“Of course,” said Lewis, smiling at her reassuringly. “It’s the Deathstalker way.”

“Then it’s a wonder you’re not all extinct,” Jesamine growled. “All right, let’s do it. Before I get a rush of sanity to the head.”

They both took a deep breath and then charged out of the terminal and onto the pads, screaming at the top of their lungs. The assassins heard the magnificent old Deathstalker battle cry of
Shandrakor! Shandrakor!
and many of them stumbled to a halt, their hearts missing a beat. Several turned and ran. It was one thing to agree to kill a traitor on the run, and quite another to face the most famous battle cry in Empire history. Many of the Neuman fanatics were ex-military, trained and experienced men, but still they felt a sudden chill seize their hearts as they remembered their opponent was a Paragon and a Champion and a Deathstalker. For a moment the shadow of the blessed Owen fell upon them, and they were on the brink of falling apart. And then their angry new faith reasserted itself as they remembered this was Lewis, not Owen. They stood their ground, took aim, and opened fire with their disrupters.

Lewis had used the time of their confusion to build up some speed, and was almost upon them, Jesamine right behind him. Energy bolts seared past him, some ricocheting from his force shield, and then he hit the first ranks of the assassins like a hammer blow. He opened fire with his own gun at point-blank range, and the energy beam punched right through the chest of the man before him, and howled on to blow away two more men behind him. Lewis hacked viciously about him with his sword, and the assassins could not stand against him, falling dead and dying at his feet, unable to face the Deathstalker’s rage and skill and experience. His gun recharged and fired again, killing more. He swung his sword, and used the razor-sharp edges of his force shield, and men bled and screamed and died, and still he cried
Shandrakor! Shandrakor!
like an angry voice out of legend.

Jesamine stuck in close behind him, guarding his back with her sharp knives and the street-fighting skills of her youth that she’d never really forgotten. The Neuman assassins circled her and Lewis, looking startled and even frightened, and she laughed in their faces as she lashed out with her knives.

But in the end there were just too many fanatics, and they slowly dueled Lewis to a halt, far short of the waiting starships. He was the better fighter by far, but they wore him down by sheer numbers. They didn’t want to use their guns in such a close press of bodies, and in the end they didn’t have to. Swords came flashing at Lewis from all directions, and his blade and his force shield couldn’t be everywhere at once. They cut at him again and again, nothing serious as yet, but his blood fell. He gritted his teeth and wouldn’t allow them the victory of a groan or a cry. He killed the men who came to kill him with casual, almost contemptuous skill, but not even a Paragon and a Champion and a Deathstalker could stand against so many. Because he was Lewis, and only a hero, not a legend.

And then there was a sudden commotion from the far side of the battle, shouting and screaming and raw panic, as something hit the assassins hard from the other side. The assassins lost their focus as men flew through the air, without heads and trailing ripped-out intestines, as Saturday, the reptiloid from the planet Shard, tore through an army of foes with delighted ferocity. Eight feet tall and bulging with muscles under his bottle-green scales, designed by evolution to be his world’s greatest killing machine, Saturday laughed aloud as he slaughtered everyone before him. Swords broke and shattered on his armored hide, and human blood ran thickly from his horrid jaws and dripped from his heavy clawed hands. He looked over the heads of the panicked assassins to Lewis and Jesamine.