Deathstalker Legacy

by Simon R. Green

  "Word is the Transmutation Board would love to wipe it clean, just on general principles, but Robert and Constance personally declared the place off limits. It's a sanctuary for all the creatures they dumped there, protected by a Quarantine starcruiser, and no one's ready to overturn Robert and Constances decision. Public wouldn't stand for it. I can give you the exact coordinates where the castle crashed, if that's any use to you. But I have to say; it's a hell of a long shot, and a bloody dangerous one at that."

  "I don't seem to have many options," said Lewis. "Thanks, Dad. And Dad… I'm sorry I let you down. Let the family down."

  "You didn't," Roland said sharply. "They let you down. After everything you did for them, all the times you put your life on the line to clear up the messes they made… they had no right to treat you this way. They weren't worthy of you, Lewis."

  "Thanks, Dad." Lewis would have liked to say more, but he didn't trust his voice to stay steady. Tears burned his eyes.

  "Do what you have to do, son. And come home when you can."

  "I always… I just wanted you to be proud of me, Dad."

  "I always have been, Lewis. You're my son. And a Deathstalker."

  Lewis waited till night fell to break into the Bloody Tower. He'd been rather surprised to discover that Jesamine was being kept in Traitor's Hall. It wasn't exactly a maximum security prison. It was once, of course, in Lionstone's day and before. You could be sent to the Bloody Tower for all kinds of reasons, back then. You went in dragging chains, and you came out in a coffin. No exceptions. The spilled blood had soaked so deeply into the stones in some places that it could never be removed. Place was supposed to be crawling with ghosts.

  Now it was little more than a tourist trap, with guided tours and souvenir stalls; one of the great sights of the Parade of the Endless. Still, it was undoubtedly surrounded by whole armies of guards by now, if only to keep the media out. Certainly no one would expect Lewis to try and break in on his own, to free Jesamine; so that was exactly what he was going to do.

  The Bloody Tower hadn't been used as an actual prison since Lionstone had been overthrown, and all the political prisoners freed. It was one of the few relics of that awful time that still survived, preserved now because the building was deemed to be of great architectural importance. Most of the other old prisons and detention centers had been burned down by furious mobs, but the Bloody Tower had survived almost unscathed, because it was too big and too strong and too solid for the fires to do any real damage. And while a great many others were officially demolished, to appease the sorrow and rage of all the people who'd seen too many friends and family disappear into Lionstone's dungeons, never to be seen again, the Bloody Tower escaped destruction because Robert and Constance wanted it kept; as a reminder.

  These days, the Bloody Tower was run and maintained by a small group of historical enthusiasts who acted as guards and curators, complete with historically accurate uniforms. The tourists loved it. Especially Traitors Wing, where those who particularly displeased Lionstone spent their last few hours before facing execution on Traitor's Block, before the assembled crowds. Ghosts were said to be really thick on the ground there, strolling around with their heads tucked securely under their arms, freaking out lone guards in the early hours.

  The more Lewis thought about it, the less it made sense. If they'd put Jesamine in a real prison, under maximum security, behind tanglefields and force shields, with security cameras everywhere, and professionally trained, well-armed guards all over the shop… Lewis would have had a hell of a time getting in. So he had to wonder whether she'd been deliberately placed in the Tower, to act as bait in a trap for him. It was what Lewis would have done. But in the end it didn't matter. He'd said he'd come back for her, and he would. No matter how many guards or guns or traps they put in his way.

  Though Hell itself stood in his path.

  Night fell, and Lewis walked out of the Rookery, wearing simple anonymous clothes, and a holo projection of a simple anonymous face. No one gave him a second look. He took public transport to the Bloody Tower, being careful to give exact change, so as not to give the driver any reason to remember him. When he stepped off the bus at the right stop, and regarded the Tower rising spendidly up before him, looking large and blocky and utterly impregnable, he was surprised to find a loudly chanting mob already assembled before it. Jesamine Flowers' fanbase had mobilized itself through the singer's websites and turned out in force, with more arriving every hour as fresh coachloads arrived from other cities. They were outraged that their beloved diva and idol had been arrested, and mad as hell that she'd been locked up. The guards set to watch for Lewis Deathstalker were now far more concerned with holding off increasingly hysterical crowds of Jesamine Flowers' fans, who were loudly and furiously declining to disperse and go home, as ordered. There was much waving of angry placards, and organized chanting, and not a little stone throwing. Perfect cover for Lewis to study the Tower and its defenses without being observed.

  Serious trouble broke out not ten minutes after he'd got there. The mob surged forward, infuriated beyond reason or common sense, moved by a simple determination to get their adored heroine out of the notorious Bloody Tower. They forced their way through the low-level tangle-fields through sheer weight of numbers, and then the mob headed for the thin ranks of guards as though they intended to walk right over them. The guards were under strict orders not to open fire on unarmed civilians (certainly as long as the media was watching) and so they braced themselves, drew their shock batons, and went head to head with the shouting, spitting mob. Lewis watched, wincing, hard-pressed to decide which side looked the most vicious, or determined. More guards came running, from other sides of the Tower, to reinforce the defensive lines. And it was the easiest thing in the world for Lewis to sneak past everyone, circle around and let himself into the Tower through an unregarded side door, using his old Paragon skeleton key.

  Once inside, he shut the door quietly behind him, relocked it, and then checked if the unobtrusive little device he'd brought from his lockup was still working. Basically, it tapped into watching security cameras and edited his image out of the picture. Simple, very effective, and utterly illegal. Just being caught in possession of the device was an automatic— and long—prison sentence. Lewis had confiscated it from a skell he'd busted in the Rookery a few years back… and somehow he'd never got around to turning it in. He'd always had the feeling it might come in handy someday.

  He looked quickly about him, but the narrow passageway was completely empty. Lewis hesitated, thinking dubiously again about the skeleton key that had got him in. Surely they should have been expecting him to use it, and reset the Tower's locks to keep him out? Or perhaps this was part of the trap, and somewhere a silent alarm was already flashing, to indicate he'd arrived. He shrugged quickly. It didn't matter. It just meant he had to move faster. He padded quietly down silent, deserted corridors, following the decorated signs set out to guide the tourists. It seemed most of the guards were outside, dealing with the fans. Or trying to, at least.

  Lewis heard footsteps approaching, and ducked out of sight through an open door. He peered cautiously around the door, and a single guard walked past, wearing an old historical uniform and carrying two mugs of steaming tea. Lewis stepped out of the side room and hit the man efficiently from behind. The guard slumped bonelessly to the floor, the tea going everywhere. Lewis looked quickly about him, but no one seemed to have heard anything. It took Lewis only a few moments to strip the guard of his uniform, switch clothes, and then reprogram his holo face to duplicate the guard's features. It would have helped if the clothes hadn't been at least three sizes too large, but he couldn't have everything.

  Lewis dragged the unconscious body, in its frankly appalling underwear, into the side room, locked the door, and then set off again, walking openly now through the corridors. He nodded calmly to other guards he passed, as he moved up from floor to floor, and they nodded back. Lewis couldn't risk using his own voice,
so he just nodded and grunted, and mostly the other guards just grunted and nodded back. Until finally, on the fifth floor, Lewis ran into two guards in modern uniforms, watching over the old steel gates that blocked off Traitor's Wing from the rest of the Tower. They were wearing full body armor, and carrying energy guns as well as swords. They were playing cards on a folding table, but they both looked up immediately as Lewis headed unhurriedly towards them. One of the guards stood up, and stepped away from the card table to block Lewis's way, one hand resting on the gun at his hip.

  "That's far enough. You know you historicals aren't allowed anywhere near the Wing tonight. Give me the password, and then piss off out of it."

  "Right," growled the other guard. "How many times do we have to tell you people? We don't care how many years you've been making your rounds, or how historically significant it is; tonight the Wing is off limits. And if you've forgotten the password as well, I'm going to give you a serious slap, just for annoying me. Password!"

  Lewis went as though to answer, and then broke off and coughed harshly, as though bothered by something in his throat. He tried again, and coughed even more horribly. He kept walking towards the waiting guards, gesturing helplessly, and the one who'd stood up sighed heavily and came forward to meet him. Lewis coughed even harder, making a big deal of the hacking and spitting, until the guard was in range, and then Lewis straightened up and punched the man right between the eyes.

  Unfortunately, although the man stumbled backwards, making loud sounds of distress, he didn't go down. Lewis jumped him, tore the gun from its holster and threw it aside. The other guard watched open-mouthed, and then started to rise from his seat. Lewis was still grappling with the first guard, who turned out to be strong and fast and a bloody good fighter. Lewis supposed he should have known they wouldn't choose just anyone to guard Jesamine.

  He ducked a clawed hand heading for his eyes, and hit the guard hard under the sternum. All the color went out of the man's face, and his legs buckled. The other guard was dancing around them, gun in hand, shouting and cursing and trying to get a bead on Lewis. So Lewis threw the first guard at him. The two of them went down with a satisfyingly loud thud, the second guard pinned under the first. Lewis stepped forward and kicked the gun out of the second guards hand, and then had to fall backwards as the second guard pushed the first off him, and surged to his feet again. He went straight for Lewis, who spun around and hit the man right in the forehead with a vicious back elbow. The second guard went down as though someone had kicked his feet out from under him. He lay still, twitching a bit, while Lewis walked around in little circles for a while, cursing and holding his elbow, which hurt like hell. Always go for the soft spots. You'd think he'd know that by now.

  He glared around him, breathing hard. He had to work fast. Unless the other guards were all asleep in the control room, someone had to have seen the two guards going down, even if they couldn't see him. He searched the two unconscious guards, and found the old steel key that opened the steel gates. He pushed them open and ran into Traitor's Wing, calling out Jesamine's name. He could still get them both out, if they moved fast. Only one cell had been opened, for the Wing's first actual prisoner in centuries, but when Lewis got there, Jesamine wasn't there. They must have moved her.

  And then alarms went off everywhere at once, loud and piercing, and there was no longer any need for secrecy or stealth. The bait had been snatched away, and the trap was sprung. Lewis spun around, snarling, gun in hand. Whatever happened, he wasn't going to be taken prisoner. No show trial, and public disgrace for his family. He ran back down the corridor, past the steel gates, jumped the unconscious guards, and kept running. Out into the next corridor, just in time to see a dozen or more armed security men come running into the corridor from an intersection. They cried out on seeing Lewis, with his old uniform and holo disguise, and demanded to know what was happening. And then they cried out again and scattered in alarm as he opened fire with his disrupter. No more bluffing. He wanted Jesamine.

  He turned and ran the other way. He didn't think he'd hit anyone. He hoped he hadn't. They were just doing their job. But he would kill everyone he saw, if that was what it took to rescue Jesamine. If she was still here in the Tower…

  He had to find her, and soon, but he didn't even know where to look. She could be anywhere in the Tower, on any floor, if they hadn't already bustled her outside. No; she must still be around somewhere. They wouldn't risk taking her out while her fans were still rioting. Just the sight of her under arrest would escalate the trouble tenfold. Lewis ran on, plunging down corridor after corridor, as more guards came running from all directions. They'd seen his old uniform and holo face now, and knew who they were looking for. Some had guessed who he really was, and were using his name as a battle cry. They wouldn't hesitate to kill the traitor Deathstalker. Lewis gripped his gun tightly, and his ugly face was very determined and very cold.

  And finally, of course, he ended up in a dead end, with nowhere left to go. No doors, no windows, no hiding places; just blank walls and a corridor that went nowhere. Lewis spun around, sword and gun at the ready, like an animal at bay, and a whole crowd of armed and armored guards all but fell over themselves crashing to a sudden halt at the far end of the corridor. They saw they had their prey cornered at last, but they didn't seem too pleased about it. They looked at each other, shifting from foot to foot, and hefting their swords and guns uncertainly. It seemed they at least suspected who was hiding behind the holo face. Lewis reached up to the collar at his throat, and turned it off. No more hiding. The holo face blinked out, and many of the guards actually groaned as Lewis's familiar ugly features reappeared. He grinned at them, and growled deep in his throat, and was pleased to note that several of the guards' faces went pale.

  And then the guards raised their disrupters and pointed them at Lewis, and he understood they had no intention of even trying to take him alive. A dead traitor was much less trouble than a live prisoner who might insist on his innocence, and raise awkward doubts in the people's minds. Lewis's face flushed with anger as the force shield sprang into being on his left arm. It was a good shield, top of the line, but it would still only absorb or deflect a set number of hits before the energy crystal was drained, and then the force shield would collapse, and he would be defenseless. Had to be twenty, maybe thirty guards, and most of them had energy guns. Lewis calculated the odds coldly, and decided that what was left of his luck had just run out. No honorable end, no fighting chance; just shot down in secret, like a mad animal. He had a brief moment to regret all the things he meant to do, and never had, and that he'd never see Jesamine again, even to say good-bye; and then he heard more running feet on the way, and knew his time was up. So; if he was going to go down, best to go down fighting, and take as many of the bastards with him as he could. To be a Deathstalker, to the last. He looked at the guards, and saw some of them were still raising their guns. His reverie had only lasted a few seconds. What the hell… He raised his voice in the old family battle cry.

  "Shandrakor! Shandrakor!"

  And then he charged down the corridor, towards overwhelming odds and a certain death, smiling a terrible smile.

  Most of the guards were so astonished they just stood there and watched him do it. A handful of them fired their weapons, the energy beams searing past Lewis's head or ricocheting from his force shield, and then he was in and among them. He shot one man at point blank range, and then he cut about him with his sword, and blood and screams flew on the air. For a moment they actually fell back before him, frightened by his face and his reputation and his ancient, deadly name; and then they remembered how many they were, and their training reasserted itself. They fell on him, unable to use their guns in the crush of bodies, slicing and hacking at him with their swords. Lewis spun back and forth, his blade a blur, constantly spinning to put his force shield between him and his enemies, but in the end he was only one man, and they were so many. Swords came at him from every direction, and he cried o
ut as they cut into him. His blood jumped and ran, and spattered the walls and floor, but still Lewis stood his ground, refusing to be beaten, refusing to die. Fighting till the last, so that at least his family would know he died an honorable death.

  And that was when Samuel Chevron came charging out of nowhere, and hit the guards from the other side. He was swinging the biggest, longest sword Lewis had ever seen, and the heavy blade cut through the guards' armor like it wasn't even there. Chevron cut down half a dozen guards before they knew what was happening, and then he was right in the thick of the fighting, killing men with cold, brutal, efficient skill. Suddenly Jesamine was there too, with a gun in each hand, and she shot down two of the guards nearest to Lewis. His heart leaped at the sight of her, and new strength filled his arms.

  The guards wavered, caught between two implacable foes, both fighting like demons, and in a moment it was all suddenly too much for them, and the survivors broke and ran. Lewis slowly lowered his sword, breathing hard. End to end, the corridor was littered with dead bodies. He looked at Chevron, and the man wasn't even breathing hard. And then Jesamine ran forward and took Lewis in her arms in a fierce hug, and he cried out despite himself as she hurt him. She let go immediately, stepped back and looked at him, and her eyes widened in horror as she took in the extent of his injuries.