Deathstalker Legacy

by Simon R. Green

  Lewis had also contacted the AIs of Shub through their Embassy, and had them search through all their records, over where best to look for Owen. Or the others. After all; Owen might not be dead. Just because some mysterious voice had said Owen was dead, and Captain Silence had seemed inclined to believe it, didn't necessarily make it so. Lewis clung to that thought, with varying degrees of comfort. There had never been any shortage of sightings of Owen or Hazel or any of the other great legends, all across the Empire. Saint Beatrice in particular seemed to pop up all over the place, in every city on every planet, doing everything from healing the sick to shopping in a supermarket. People were always finding the likeness of her face in unlikely places. It was a lot of work, sorting out the few promising rumors from the more obvious cases of wishful thinking, while simultaneously trying to sort out which Paragons would go to which worlds, and in what order, but Lewis ended up quite enjoying it. The work kept him busy and kept him from brooding, and gave him a feeling of worth again. And for the first time in a long time he felt accepted by the Paragons again, as one of them. That made up for a lot.

  And as long as he kept himself busy, he didn't think about Jesamine for sometimes hours at a time. Sometimes.

  Still, when Parliament called, you answered. Even if it was bloody inconvenient. Lewis carefully saved his most recent work on the computer, pushed his notes together into more or less tidy piles, and clambered painfully to his feet. He stretched slowly, wincing as he heard bones click loudly. He really ought to get around to buying a desk and a chair, at least. Before his back gave out. He pulled on his official Champion's black leather armor, scowling furiously all the while, strapped on his weapons belt, looked around the room vaguely a few times, convinced as always that he'd forgotten something important, and then left his apartment. He scowled as he trudged up the stairs to the roof and his waiting gravity sled. Whatever Parliament wanted, it must be pretty important for them to recall him so urgently. Perhaps there was some new information on the Terror? The thought chilled his heart, and he ran up the last few steps and out onto the roof. He pushed his gravity sled as fast as it would go, all the way to the House. He tried to call in, but no one was answering. He was getting a really bad feeling about this.

  He should have known. He really should have known. Deathstalker luck. Always bad.

  Once at the House he hurried through the narrow corridors, intending to stop people as they passed, to get some idea of what was up. But the back corridors were unusually deserted, and the few people he encountered were apparently far too busy to stop and talk. At least they weren't crying this time… He wondered whether he should make the time to stop off at Anne's office and talk with her, but considering how his last visit had turned out, he decided against it. His hand still twinged sometimes. So he increased his pace, striding furiously through the corridors, his head full of all the things that might have gone wrong, and what he might have to do to put them right, until finally he came to the House itself. Two armed and fully armored guards stood before the great double doors. They pushed the doors open, and gestured for him to go right in. He hurried past them, and out onto the floor of the House; and the first thought that struck him was how quiet everything was.

  He slowed to a halt in the middle of the floor, and looked about him. Everyone was looking at him, and not kindly. From the MPs filling the Seats, to the AI and esper and clone representatives, to the aliens filling their Section, to King Douglas sitting stiffly on his Throne; Lewis couldn't see a friendly face anywhere. Jesamine was standing beside the Throne. She wouldn't look at him at all. Her gaze was fixed on the floor at her feet. Lewis's bad feeling grew suddenly worse.

  There was a sudden crash of booted feet behind him, and Lewis looked around sharply as a small army of guards and security men filed quickly through the double doors, to take up positions around the House.

  They all had energy guns. Many of them were drawn, and pointing at him. The double doors closed, and very clearly on the ominous quiet came the sound of locks closing. And Lewis began to realize just how much trouble he was in.

  "Drop your weapons, Deathstalker," said the King, from his Throne. His voice was cold and flat and strangely empty, but his eyes were burning. "Do it, now; or I'll have my people disarm you. By force, if necessary."

  "Douglas?" said Lewis. "What's going on?"

  "You will address me as your Majesty," said the King. "Drop your weapons. I won't tell you again."

  Lewis moved his hands slowly and carefully to his weapons belt, and undid the buckle. He lowered the gun and sword to the floor, straightened up and stepped slowly back from them, keeping his hands in clear sight all the while.

  "And the rest," said the King.

  Lewis removed the throwing knives from his boots and up his sleeves, and dropped them to the floor. The clatter seemed very loud in the continuing hush. He had a few more, nonregulation weapons about him too, and he gave them up too, because the King would know about them. Of course he would know; Douglas and Lewis had been partners. The last thing to hit the floor was the force shield from his wrist. Lewis stood before the House, defenseless.

  "Now will you tell me what's going on, your Majesty?"

  "The charge is treason," said Finn Durandal. He strode out from among the security men, and stepped down onto the floor of the House. He stopped carefully out of Lewis's reach, and looked coldly at him. When he spoke again, his voice was full of authority, and contempt. "Lewis Deathstalker; you have betrayed your King with the woman who was to be his Queen. You have thrown aside duty and honor, in order to satisfy your own base lusts. You are not fit to be Imperial Champion. You are hereby stripped of that office, on the authority of the King and this House. You are now under arrest. You will be taken from this place to a secure location, where you will be held under guard until you can be tried for treason."

  "You have evidence," said Lewis, trying hard to sound calm, though his chest was so tight he could hardly breathe. "You must have, or this wouldn't be happening. Where did you get that evidence, I wonder?"

  "You'll find out, at your trial," said Finn.

  But Lewis had already looked past Finn to see Anne Barclay, standing among her security men. She'd stepped forward deliberately, to draw his gaze. She looked at him coldly, and Lewis knew immediately where Finn had got his evidence.

  "Oh Anne; how could you?"

  She met his gaze steadily, but said nothing. And Lewis remembered her begging him to run away with her. Remembered her saying This is your last chance, Lewis… And he remembered her clinging to him, and wondered how he could have been so blind, and so stupid.

  "She did her duty," said Finn. "She came to me, and I didn't believe her at first. I couldn't believe you of all people would do such a thing. But Anne had incontrovertible proof. After that, it wasn't hard for her people and mine to turn up more. You went to great pains to cover your tracks, but people always talk. Then, we went to the King. He didn't want to believe it either, but once he'd seen our proof, not even his friendship could protect you from the consequences of your treachery." Finn shook his head sadly. "How could you, Lewis? He was your friend and your partner, as well as your King."

  "Save me the sanctimony," said Lewis. "It doesn't suit you, Finn. You keep saying you have proof. What proof?"

  Finn sighed heavily, regretfully, and gestured imperiously. A viewscreen appeared, floating on the air before the House. And on the screen, there were Lewis and Jesamine, in each other's arms, kissing with a white hot passion. There was no way it could be seen to be anything other than what it was; a man and a woman in love, and in heat. Lewis recognized the scene immediately. He recognized the corridor. He was looking at a recording from the camera set over Anne's office door. The screen went blank, and disappeared, and a low angry murmur passed through the watching MPs. Lewis looked at the King, sitting so stiffly on his Throne.

  "Oh God, Douglas, I'm so sorry…"

  "Save your admissions of guilt for your trial, Deathstalker,"
said Finn.

  "Though of course, you have so much to feel guilty about. Our investigators turned up evidence of other crimes, other treasons, against the King and the Empire. With the Houses authority, we broke into your computer, and studied your hidden files. We found all kinds of interesting data there; including direct evidence that you planned quite cold bloodedly from the beginning to use Jesamine's wealth to pay off your extensive debts. Did she know that, Lewis? Did she know that you were using her?"

  "That's not true!" Lewis said hotly. He started towards Finn, his hands clenched into fists, only to stop short as every guard and security man took aim with their energy guns. Lewis snarled at them soundlessly, and then spun around to look at Jesamine, standing beside the Throne. "Jes; you know that isn't true!"

  But still she wouldn't look at him, or respond to him in any way.

  Finn allowed himself a small smile. He knew it wasn't true. He'd paid the estimable Mr. Sylvester a lot of money to plant the carefully tainted information in Lewis's files before he authorized his people to break into Lewis's computer. He watched interestedly as Lewis looked slowly around the House, and saw only condemnation everywhere. Lewis's gaze finally came to a halt on Anne.

  "How could you, Anne? We've been friends for so long…"

  "I don't know you any more, Lewis," Anne said flatly. "And perhaps… you never did know me."

  "I trusted you," Douglas said suddenly, and every eye turned to look at him. He looked tired, beaten down, almost broken. He looked at Lewis as though the man before him was a stranger. "My friend, my partner, my Champion. Was I so wrong about you, all these years? Was our friendship ever anything more than a lie? Was I just something you could use, in your ambition? I trusted you with my life, and my honor, and you betrayed me. You were the brother I never knew, and you spurned my love… for sex, for money… or was there something more to it? Did you plan to emulate your distant ancestor Giles, the original Deathstalker, who betrayed his Emperor with the Empress Hermione, so he could steal the Throne? Is that what this was all about? The ultimate treason? Wasn't being the Champion enough for you; you had to be King?"

  "No!" said Lewis. "No; you have to know that isn't true!" He held out his empty hands to Douglas, almost pleadingly. "How could you even think such a thing, Douglas?"

  "Anne said it best; I don't know you anymore, Lewis. And I have to wonder if I ever really did." He turned his gaze away to smile on Finn. It looked like a real smile, from a distance. "You have done well, Finn Durandal. You shall be my new Champion. My trusted right hand. I should have made you Champion first." He looked back at Lewis. "How could I know that power and position would corrupt you so, Lewis? I thought I could depend on you, of all people. I was blinded by the name, I suppose. That ancient, honorable name…"

  "The ring," said Finn, stepping forward. "He must be made to give up the Deathstalker ring, your Majesty. He is clearly no longer worthy to bear the blessed Owen's ring. It may contain valuable information, concerning where the blessed Owen may be found. Take off the ring, Lewis, and give it to me. Now."

  "Come and take it," said Lewis. "If you can."

  And even unarmed, and surrounded by a whole army of men with guns, there was still something in the Deathstalker's voice, and in his eyes, that gave Finn pause. The moment lengthened awkwardly, and then Finn recovered himself and laughed dismissively.

  "If need be, we can always take it off your dead body, Lewis. You do realize that you are on trial for your life? In a time of Empire-wide emergency such as this, behavior and crimes such as yours threaten to undermine the morale of all Humanity. You broke your trust with King and Queen, and plotted to seize the Throne for yourself. Such guilt can only be fittingly punished by a death sentence."

  And all the MPs in the House broke into a loud chorus of agreement and approval, calling with grim vicious voices for the death of the traitor Deathstalker.

  "No!" said Douglas, leaning forward on his Throne for the first time. "I didn't agree to that! I never said I wanted that!"

  But no one was listening to him. The House was full of the ugly roar of the honorable Members, baying for blood, demanding death. They rose to their feet, and shouted down their own King and Speaker. Lewis had betrayed them by not being the hero they'd needed their Deathstalker to be in the time of the Terror, and they would have their revenge. Only blood would satisfy them now. Lewis turned his back on the MPs, and studied the rest of the House. The clone representative was also calling for death, siding as always with the majority. The representative for the over-soul was sitting quietly, regarding him thoughtfully. Not an enemy, perhaps, but the pale-faced young woman showed no sign of being ready to support or protect him. The blue steel robot representing Shub was still and silent, and who knew what the AIs were thinking. They had their own agenda, always. And the aliens… were arguing among themselves, looking for some way to turn this new change of events to their own advantage. No change there, then. Not for the first time, Lewis was entirely alone.

  Two guards came forward at Finn's gesture to take the traitor away. So Lewis kicked the nearest man in the groin, head-butted the other in the face, and threw himself at Finn Durandal. The two men crashed to the floor in a tangle. There was a long moment of utter confusion, as the other guards looked at each other, uncertain what to do. No one was giving any orders, and they couldn't open fire for fear of hitting Finn. The two men thrashed together on the floor. Finn got his gun out, and an energy beam shot past Lewis's head, so close it singed a few hairs, and then the beam flew on to blow a hole in the far wall of the chamber. MPs ducked, and guards scattered, crying out. Lewis and Finn were punching and kicking and wrestling, two warriors well trained in every vicious trick of unarmed combat. The guards and security men watched helplessly from the sidelines. As yet no one had ordered them to go down and intervene directly. And since this was, after all, the Deathstalker, there wasn't a man there ready to risk his life without very specific orders. And maybe not even then. Better to stand well back, and wait for a clear shot.

  Lewis and Finn fought savagely, but in the end Lewis was the one with the experience. For all his training, Finn had never been one for working in close, and getting his hands dirty. He pushed Lewis away, and tried to get to his feet. Lewis kicked him expertly in the knee, and Finn cried out and fell back again as his leg betrayed him. Lewis rose to his feet, smiled a cold and wolfish smile, and kicked Finn in the ribs. His grin widened as he heard ribs crack and break. Lewis kicked him again, and Finn groaned loudly, blood spraying from his mouth. Lewis laughed soundlessly, and reaching down, tore Finn's gun from his hand. He backed away, looking quickly about him. The whole fight had taken only a few moments. The House had fallen silent. Lewis knew he only had a short time before some of the guards got their wits and their courage together, and opened fire. A quick glance around was all it took to show him that there were armed men between him and every exit. He might be able to fight his way out, but it would mean killing a lot of basically innocent men and women. And he wasn't ready to do that, just yet. He looked at Jesamine, still standing beside Douglas's Throne, watching him now with wide, devastated eyes. Two security men were holding her by the arms, just in case. There was no way he could get to her, and they both knew it.

  "I'll be back for you, Jes! I swear it!"

  "Go! Get the hell out of here, Lewis! They'll kill you!"

  "I will come back for you! Whatever it takes!"

  Half a dozen energy beams seared through the air before the Throne, but Lewis was no longer there. The energy beams went on to blow ragged holes in the floor. Douglas leaped to his feet to yell at the guards.

  "Take him down with swords, dammit! Swords! Get down here and earn your pay! He's only one man!"

  But that one man was the Deathstalker. Some of the guards and security men started to make their way forwards, but none of them were hurrying, all of them ready to let some other poor fool have the honor of tackling Lewis Deathstalker. After all, it wasn't as if he was going
anywhere. All the exits to the House had been blocked and sealed. Finn Durandal had seen to that, with a little help from Anne Barclay. Lewis had realized that too; but he had other plans. He was looking at the floor of the House. Not all that long ago, Lewis had foiled an attempt to kill the King, by a Neuman suicide bomber. The transmutation bomb had gone off right here, reducing the bomber to protoplasmic ooze, and severely damaging the structure of the floor. It was supposed to have been repaired long ago, but Lewis happened to know that a backlog of work (and an ongoing argument in the House as to who exactly was going to pay for all this work) had meant the real repair work had yet to be done. The workmen had just covered the damaged area with a temporary new surface. Lewis knew all this because it was one of the things the King had ordered him to look into, back when Douglas was still keeping him busy with makework.

  Lewis aimed Finn's gun at just the right spot, ignoring the shakily aimed energy beams still blazing past him, and opened fire on full intensity. The weakened section of floor blew apart with a satisfyingly large explosion, and a whole section crumpled and fell inwards, leaving a gaping hole nearly ten feet in diameter. Lewis jumped into it without hesitating, just as a dozen energy beams whipped through the air where he'd been standing. It was a relatively short drop into the service tunnels below, and he landed easily. A quick glance around to get his bearings, and then he was off and running. He knew every inch of the House he'd sworn to protect.

  Guards and security men crouched around the edges of the great hole, and peered dubiously down into it. Absolutely nobody was keen to follow the Deathstalker into unknown territory. Particularly not when he could be waiting for them anywhere… Finn pushed his way through the guards, limping heavily and with one arm protectively cradling his smashed ribs. His face was white with pain and fury, but his features were still carefully composed. He glared into the hole, and then turned his glare on the guards.