"You only beat me because I'm old and slow, boy."
"No," said Kit. "I beat you because you still cared whether you lived or died. And I never have. Now shut up and die. I have business to be about."
He pushed the dagger in one more inch, and the light went out of Razor's eyes. He fell backwards and lay still. Kit waited a moment, to hear the last dying breath go out of his enerriy, and then he smiled briefly, took back his dagger, and got to his feet. He nodded to Owen.
"The Empire killed David. Not me. He was the only friend I ever had. Guess I'm back in the rebellion again."
"What makes you think we want a lunatic like you?" said Jenny.
Kit raised an eyebrow. "Hark who's talking. No, they'll take me back. You'll always need someone like me. Someone to do the dirty jobs no one else wants to do. I don't care. I'm a killer. I go where the killing is."
One of Lionstone's hands rose slowly to tangle its fingers in her hair, pulling loose long curls of pale blond strands. Her eyes were wild and staring, her mouth a flat thin line. "Will no one defend the Empress in her hour of need? Is there not one loyal subject left to me?"
"Hell," said Dram. "I suppose there's always me." He strode forward and set himself between the Throne and the rebels. "I've always been yours, Lionstone, till death do us part. You gave me life. Gave me everything. And if my life's been a little shorter than most, it sure as hell hasn't been boring." He grinned at Owen. "I had a great time on Virimonde, Deathstalker. Watching your peasants run before me, striking them down and trampling them underfoot. Stamping the spilt blood into the furrowed earth, and watching the towns burn in the early-morning light. I ate your world up and spit it out, Deathstalker, and loved every minute of it. I am Dram, the Widowmaker, the undefeated. And after I've killed you and your friends, I'll lead the forces that will drive your rebellion back into the gutter, where it belongs. You never really stood a chance. You're scum, the lowest of the low, the dirt under our boots. Step forward, Deathstalker, and I'll cut your stupid head off and stick it on a pike."
"Damn," said Hazel. "He makes even longer speeches than you do, Owen."
"Not to worry," said Owen. "I'll soon put a stop to that."
"No," said Giles Deathstalker, putting a staying hand on Owen's arm as he started forward. "This one belongs to me." He stepped forward, and Dram fell into a warrior's crouch, sword at the ready. Giles shook his head. "Amateur. You're not Dram, whoever you are. Dram was my son, and I trained him to be a far better swordsman than you'll ever be. I killed him, on Haden. It was necessary. When I walked in here, and saw you standing by the Throne, I knew I'd have to do it again. Killing my son almost destroyed me, but I don't think I'll have any problem killing a clone."
Dram looked at him strangely. "You're my father! I never knew. Lionstone never told me. I never knew I had a Family. You mean I'm a Deathstalker, too?"
"No," said Giles. "You're just a clone."
"Wait," said Dram. "We have to talk about this."
"No we don't," said Giles. "You're not my son. You're not even human. How dare you wear my son's face?"
He aimed his disrupter and shot Dram right in the face. The energy blast tore the clone's head off his body, which crumpled slowly to the floor. Lionstone looked at Giles, shocked. He smiled coldly at her. "What did you expect? Another duel? Another matter of honor, settled sword to sword? I've done that. This wasn't anything as clean as a killing. Just exterminating some garbage that should never have existed in the first place."
He turned away, put up a hand to stop Owen when he moved forward to comfort him, and walked a little away, to be by himself. Lionstone sat speechlessly on her Throne, looking at the headless corpse lying at her feet. Captain Silence and Investigator Frost looked at each other.
"Looks like it's down to us, Investigator."
"Not for the first time, Captain."
Silence nodded to Lionstone. "We've been through a lot of changes, Your Majesty, whether we wanted them or not, but our loyalty has never been in question. And if we kept our powers to ourselves, it was only so we could serve you better. Come on, Frost, time to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat one more time." He smiled at Owen and Hazel. "And we do have some unfinished business, you and I, don't we?"
"Damn right," said Hazel, sweeping her sword back and forth before her like a cat twitching its tail.
"Daddy…" said Jenny.
"I'm sorry," said Silence. "But this is a matter of duty. And I've always known my duty."
"Damn it, we don't have time for all this posing," said Ruby Journey. "If I wanted to watch fencing displays and grudge matches, I'd go to the Arena, so I could do it in a comfortable seat with a cold drink and a big bag of peanuts. We're supposed to be fighting a rebellion here. This is just keeping us from the more important things. Like looting. Head up, Lionstone. Giles had the right idea."
And she raised her disrupter and opened fire on the Empress. But even as Ruby was taking aim, Stelmach shouted something incoherent and threw himself between Ruby and the Empress. He took the energy blast high on the chest. It tore away his right arm and vaporized much of the upper right side of his chest, leaving him lying twitching and moaning at the foot of the Throne. Silence and Frost were quickly there at his side, but it was clear the Security Officer was dying. He put out his remaining hand to Silence, who took it firmly in his.
"All I ever wanted… was to serve," said Valiant Stelmach. "To be loyal. To give my life for the Empress."
"No one ever doubted your loyalty," said Silence, but he was saying it to a dead man. He gently placed Stelmach's hand on his chest and patted it twice, saying good-bye.
"Pity," said Frost. "He was a good man, in his way."
"I'm surprised you cared," said Silence.
"I liked him," said Frost. "He was a coward, a weakling, and probably harbored rebel sympathies, but he did his best to be brave and do the right thing anyway. It's easy for us to be brave, with our training and abilities. All he had was guts. And a willingness to die for his Empress."
"And now it's our turn," said Silence. He got to his feet. Frost beside him, and together they took up their places before the Throne. Silence smiled once at Jenny, then nodded to Owen. "Let's do it, Deathstalker."
Owen stepped up to face Silence, and Hazel moved forward to face Frost. Owen hefted his sword casually. "From what I've been hearing, Captain, you and the Investigator gained abilities similar to ours from the Madness Maze. Which means we could raise our powers, go head-to-head, reduce the Court to rubble, and kill everyone in it, and still end up in a stalemate. So what say we do this the honorable way. Just sword to sword. How does that sound to you?"
"Honorable," said Silence. "And what I'd expect from a Deathstalker. Besides, we've always wanted to know which of us is better with a blade, haven't we?"
"Damn right," said Frost.
"Then let's do it," said Hazel. "One last fight, as humans. Before we forget how."
And so they went forward to meet each other, the last great champions of Empire and rebellion, four good people whose differing beliefs could not be reconciled, only decided at the point of a sword. Owen and Silence circled each other slowly, their swords clashing lightly, tip to tip, as they studied each other's style for openings and vulnerabilities. Hazel and Frost went straight at each other, hacking and cutting, slamming their blades together, fueled by a rivalry that was stronger than hate or rage.
Owen and Silence stamped and lunged and recovered, both of them cold and calculating, testing their strength and skills to the limits, both trained in harsh and unforgiving schools. Their blades crashed together, sparks flying on the air, neither man prepared to give an inch or retreat a step. Their swords flew so fast the eye could barely keep up, driven by skills and reflexes almost too quick for human thought. Owen didn't boost. It never occurred to him. He wanted to win this one fairly. He was fighting for a set of ideals, his own as well as the rebellion's, and either he won fairly, or his whole life had no meaning. Silence
put all his strength into every blow, all his speed into every cut and parry, and still had to struggle to match the Deathstalker's attacks. The young rebel fought as though his life no longer mattered, only the winning. Silence tried to feel that way, too. The whole Empire depended on him now. Everything he'd ever believed in and fought for. Everything that had given his life shape and meaning. But in the end, his surety wasn't as certain as Owen's, and perhaps that was why his sword was finally just that fraction slower, and Owen beat his blade aside, stepped forward, and set the point of his sword at Silence's throat. For a long moment the two men just stood there, face-to-face, breathing hard from their exertions. They looked into each other's eyes, and recognized what they saw there.
"I can't kill you," Owen said finally. "It would be like killing myself. Surrender, Captain. Put down your sword, and I guarantee your safety. The rebellion's going to need someone like you to help us rebuild."
"My loyalty…"
"Is to the people of the Empire. Help us preserve the best, so we don't throw it out along with the bad."
Captain John Silence looked back at his Empress, then around at the Hell she'd made of her Court, and slowly opened his hand and let his sword drop to the floor. It made hardly any sound. Owen lowered his blade. They nodded respectfully to each other, then turned to look at Hazel d'Ark and Investigator Frost. They'd dueled each other to a standstill, standing face-to-face, breathing hard and harsh, swords shaking in their exhausted hands. Their eyes were as fierce as ever, but they had driven themselves beyond strength or stamina, and they were both too proud to draw on their unnatural strength and skills.
"Give it up, Hazel," said Owen. "You're never going to win, either of you. And neither of you is ever going to yield. You're too alike. Call it a day, and let's get on with what we came here for."
Hazel considered it, frowning thoughtfully as sweat dripped off her face. "What the hell," she said finally. "We can always try this again later, when we've got more time. What do you say, Investigator? I'll step back if you will."
"Never," said Frost. "I'm an Investigator. The Empire made me what I am. I'll never give up, never give in. Kill me if you can, rebel."
"It doesn't have to be this way," said Owen.
"Yes it does," said Frost. "This is my life. My meaning. My purpose. I'll never back down. It's not in me. Kill me if you can."
Hazel lowered her sword. "I can't. Not like this."
"I can," said Kit SummerIsle. And in a movement so fast no one recognized it till it was too late, he drew a hidden dagger and threw it at Frost with all his strength behind it. She turned slightly as he spoke, and the knife took her in the throat. Blood spurted thickly, running down her chest in streams. She dropped her sword and clutched at her throat with both hands. Blood welled between her fingers. She started to pull the knife free, and then sat down suddenly as the strength went out of her. Silence was quickly there at her side, holding her in his arms. She shuddered uncontrollably, and he held her tighter. She looked shocked, confused, as though she couldn't believe this was happening to her.
"Stupid way to die," she said, her voice thick and labored. Blood sprayed from her mouth in a fine red mist. "I feel cold. So cold."
"I've got you, Frost," said Silence. "I'm right here."
"Never thought… it would end like this."
"Hush," said Silence. "Save your strength till we can get a medic in here."
"No," said Frost. "We never lied to each other, Captain. Don't start now."
"Then heal yourself! I did!"
"Too late, Captain. Too late."
"You were a good soldier," said Silence, his voice breaking. "The best, right to the end."
"Of course. I'm an Investigator. John…"
"Yes?" said Silence, but the breath just went out of her in a long bloody sigh, and she was gone. Silence hugged her to him. "Good soldier. Good soldier." Eventually he let her go and got to his feet. His uniform was soaked with her blood. He looked at the SummerIsle, who smiled back at him.
"Why?" said Silence. "Why her, and not me?"
"You killed my David," said Kit. "Now you know what I felt. Want to try and kill me now, old man?"
"Not right now," said Silence. "There's been enough killing here. And she never would have surrendered. Just stay out of my sight, killer."
He turned away to face Owen and Hazel, as though he didn't know what to do next. Stelmach and Frost were dead, and he had repudiated his Empress. It didn't seem possible that his whole life could have been destroyed in such a short time.
"I'm sorry about the Investigator," said Owen. "Sometimes, it just isn't possible for everyone to win."
"You loved her, didn't you?" said Hazel. "Did you ever tell her?"
"She wouldn't have known how to answer me," said Silence. "She was an Investigator."
There was nothing more to say, so they all turned to look at Lionstone, alone on her Throne. She glared back at them defiantly. All her champions were dead or defeated, but she still hadn't given up. It was an almost perfect moment of opposition, and it hung endlessly on the air, as though neither side wanted to break it. Hell had grown very quiet. The angel guards were dead, the maids-in-waiting were human again, and even the hologram illusions were still, as though waiting to see what would happen next. Owen moved slowly forward to stand alone at the foot of the Iron Throne. He'd come a long way to reach this place, this moment. To stand before the woman who'd destroyed his life and taken away everything he'd ever had or cared for. Because of her he'd been sent wandering through the Empire, always running from the hounds on his trail, never to feel safe or secure again. Because of her he'd been forced to become someone he still wasn't sure he approved of, the kind of man his Family had always wanted him to be—a warrior. Fighting for a cause he wasn't always sure he really believed in. But every time he wavered, all he had to do was remember a young girl lying bloodied on the Mistport snows, crippled by his sword, crying helplessly till he killed her out of mercy. Time to end it all, now. He nodded almost familiarly to the Empress.
"It's over, Lionstone. Time to go. Step down."
"No," said Giles. "Not yet. It isn't over till I say it's over. Step away from the Throne, Owen. This isn't your moment; it's mine."
Everyone turned to look at him. The old warrior in his barbarian's furs, the legendary hero of centuries past, stood calmly a little distance away from the others, his sword in his hand. He smiled at them, and something in that smile made them all shiver. He lifted his blade and set the edge against his mercenary's scalplock. He sawed through the thick hair with ease, and then held it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment, before throwing it away.
"That's it," he said calmly. "No more a mercenary. No more fighting for other men's causes. I am my own man again, the Deathstalker, and I will take the crown now, as it was always meant I should. I will be Emperor, and put things right again. I'm the only one who understands what needs to be done to restore the Empire. To make it strong again, before the aliens or the Hadenmen or Shub rise up to destroy Humanity. The people will follow me. They've always had a soft spot for heroes and legends. I will remake the old Empire, as it was a thousand years ago, before the rot set in. No more clones or espers or other genetic abominations. It was always meant that the Empire should be a human Empire."
He smiled at Owen in a fatherly fashion. "It was always meant to be me, Owen. I knew when I went into stasis, 943 years ago, that I would have to plan for the long term. Step outside of time, so I could wait to return till the odds were in my favor again. All during that time, the computers in my Standing monitored events and maintained contact with my Clan. They planned and plotted, shaping events, preparing for my eventual return. Your father was the last contact, Owen. A very adroit agent. He set the final plans in motion—funded the rebels on Mistworld, created the Abraxus Information Center, and was finally planning a trip to Shandrakor to wake me when he made a misstep, drew attention to himself at just the wrong moment, and the Empress sent Kid Death to
put an end to his intrigues.
"It was a major blow. Your father had always been meant to be the leader of the coming rebellion, a warrior-politician with the legendary Deathstalker name. The people would have followed him, as he prepared them for my return. But then he was gone, and I had no choice but to replace him with you, a feeble historian who never even wanted to be the warrior his inheritance demanded.
"To temper the steel that will become a sword blade, you beat the hell out of it and test it almost to the point of destruction. So I tempered you. It wasn't difficult for some of my agents to convince Lionstone to outlaw you, and thus set you on the path that would eventually bring you to me. The Maze… confused things. It was only ever intended that I should pass through the Maze and gain the powers it promised but under the pressure of events I had no choice but to allow you and your companions to pass through, too. You were never meant to become superhuman, like me. Still, you haven't turned out too badly, Owen. I've made you a warrior in spite of yourself. A credit to your Family name. But now it's time for you to step aside.
"It was never meant to be you, boy. This is my moment, my destiny. I will be Emperor, as it was always meant I should."
Owen stared at Giles for a long moment, and then shook his head. "To hell with that. I didn't come this far, spill this much blood, just to replace one tyrant with another. Even if he is Family. Put down your sword, Giles. You left it too late. Your time is over; we do things differently now. The rebellion grew from the clone and esper undergrounds, not your meddling. We've had enough of Families and Emperors. It's time for… something new."
Giles slowly advanced on Owen, who raised his sword warningly. Giles stopped. "Don't do this, boy. Don't make me kill you."
"You wouldn't really kill me," said Owen. "Not your own Family. The last of your descendants. The last Deathstalker."
"I can always start a new line," said Giles calmly. "I never promised you wealth or fame or an easy death, Owen. Just a chance to be a legend. Whether that's a living legend is up to you. I am… fond of you, in my way. The last of my original line. My child, in every way that matters. Don't get in my way, boy. I've done… awful things, terrible things. I created the Darkvoid Device and put out a thousand suns. This is my chance to atone, to put things right. To make things the way they should be. Don't take that away from me. You've come a long way, fought well, tried hard to do the right thing, uphold the Family name. I love you, Owen."
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