jumped down from the hovering sleds, brandishing swords and guns. There seemed to be no end to the sleds as they came crashing in. The door burst open and Razor came running in with his troops. There were armed men everywhere on both sides, and suddenly the great room wasn't big enough. Finlay calmly aimed his gun and shot an intruder through the head. The dead man's blood and brains flew on the air, and in a moment everyone was firing. Energy beams crossed the room, ricocheting from shield to shield, burning through unprotected limbs and heads, and the air was full of screams and the stink of burnt meat. The flurry was almost over as soon as it had begun, and people quickly bolstered their guns to give full attention to their swords. It would be a good two minutes before the disrupters energy crystals recharged, and a lot could happen in two minutes.
Finlay activated the personal force shield on his arm and moved forward confidently, sword and shield at the ready. Part of him admired the attack, and the professional way it had been set up. The cyberats had knocked out the security systems that would have warned of the approaching gravity sleds, which in turn bypassed Razor's forces inside the tower. An esper would have seen it all coming, but the Campbell had insisted on an esp-blocker to keep the Family's secrets safe. Finlay could hear more troops pouring up through the tower and hoped they were Razor's. He clashed swords with the first man he reached and cut him down almost casually. It didn't surprise him at all to see the man wore a Wolfe emblem on his chest.
He felt a fleeting annoyance that whatever else happened his carefully cultivated fop persona was now at an end. He'd put a lot of work into being a fop. But he needed the Masked Gladiator now to survive, and he'd worry about the consequences later. If there was a later. The odds were not good.
The great room was now a mass of heaving bodies, with barely any room to swing a sword, and more gravity sleds were nosing through the shattered windows all the time, bringing more fighters. And with them came their masters, the Wolfes themselves.
Jacob Wolfe jumped down into the fray, a great bull of a man with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He swung his sword with brutal efficiency, cutting his way through the crush toward the Campbells. Behind him came Valentine, with his painted face and scarlet smile, and Daniel, young and eager with a sword in each hand. And after them came Kit Summerlsle, Kid Death, the smiling killer, with his new friend the young Deathstalker, already moving so fast that his boosted movements were little more than a blur.
The room was now filled from wall to wall with a mass of fighting bodies, surging this way and that. Wolfe troops clashed with Campbell guards, and the two Clans fought to get at each other. Crawford Campbell went after Kit Summerlsle, bellowing his anger. He couldn't look at Kid Death without remembering how the smiling killer had cut down his own grandfather, Roderik Summerlsle. Crawford hadn't realized how much a friend Roderik had been till he didn't have him anymore. He'd lost a lot of things he cared for in his life, and Roderik had been one too many. He was going to have his revenge now if it killed him. The sheer fury of his attack threw Kit back on the defense, but he didn't concede an inch. The Kid stood his ground and waited patiently for the Campbell's arm to tire, smiling all the while.
Valentine Wolfe had triggered his battle drugs the moment Tower Campbell came in sight, and now they roared through his system like an unending bolt of lightning. Everyone else seemed slow and clumsy, their every swordstroke obvious and predictable. He cut a bloody path through the crush and threw himself on Finlay Campbell, who parried the lightning blows with surprising speed and skill. Valentine laughed breathlessly, eyes wide, and pressed the attack, thunder in his arms.
Daniel Wolfe went after Gerald Campbell, seeing the notorious fool as an easy target, and was startled to find Gerald a swift and cunning fighter. He might not be the brightest of men, but he was a Campbell, after all. Daniel sniffed, and buckled down to some hard fighting. He was a Wolfe. They slammed together again and again, swords clashing and flying back from raised shields in a flurry of sparks. There wasn't much room to fight in the crowd, and in the end it was luck as much as skill that ended the match. Gerald was just a moment too late in recovering from a lunge, and Daniel's sword slipped past the Campbell's defense and punched right through Gerald's ribs. He looked more surprised than hurt, and then he coughed blood suddenly and fell to one knee. Daniel pulled his sword free and cut Gerald's throat with a single economical stroke. Blood spurted, and Gerald fell to be trampled under uncaring feet. William Campbell cried out in shock and loss and threw himself upon Daniel, who met the new challenge with a broad grin and calm efficiency. He was a Wolfe, and today he would prove it in blood and slaughter.
Jacob Wolfe saw Investigator Razor working his way through the crowd toward him and immediately looked around for a lesser foe. Let some other fool tackle the Investigator; someone who was tired of living. He saw Finlay and Valentine pulled apart by the surging tides of the crowd and went after the young fop. Kill him, and Crawford's morale would shatter. He closed in, expecting an easy victory, and was actually shocked to discover that Finlay Campbell was a master swordsman. There hadn't been a hint of these skills in the intelligence reports, but it was too late to back away. He'd committed himself. A cold foreboding curled within Jacob's gut. If a dandy like Finlay could turn out to be a great swordsman, what else might the reports have been wrong about?
The crowd surged forward again, pushing them apart. Jacob was glad to see Finlay go. He looked around and saw Crawford swept away from Kid Death. A sense of destiny burned in Jacob as he fought his way through the press of bodies to engage Crawford. They came together, sword to sword, with a sense of relief that the preliminaries were finally over. Wolfe fought Campbell, eyes locked together, cutting and thrusting as though they were the only ones in the room. Their swords slammed together and leapt apart, and for a moment they seemed equally matched, but Jacob quickly took the advantage. Crawford was overweight and softened by too much easy living, while Jacob had always taken pride in maintaining his fighting skills. Crawford began to back away, and Jacob went after him, refusing to allow the shirting crowd to rescue his foe. And in the end, the Wolfe simply battered the Campbell's sword aside with his superior strength and ran him through. Crawford fell to the floor, and Jacob kicked him in the face as he lay dying. The Wolfe never saw his son Valentine move silently in behind him and thrust a dagger between his ribs. The blade was in and out in a moment, unseen by anyone, and Valentine was already moving away as Jacob Wolfe fell dying to the floor beside the body of his rival, the Campbell.
David Deathstalker, full of the thrill of the boost, went head-to-head with Investigator Razor. Their swords flew impossibly fast, and neither of them gave an inch. Kid Death moved in close with William Campbell and stuck him in the groin with a hidden dagger. William screamed in pain and horror as blood coursed down his legs, and Kit Summerlsle ran him through. While his sword was still trapped in William's body, Adrienne stuck a knife in his back, just above the kidney. Kit swung round, his sword a bloody blur as he jerked it out of William's chest and slammed it into Adrienne's belly. Her legs buckled as he pulled the blade free in a gush of blood. Kid Death drew back his sword for the killing blow, and Finlay was suddenly there between them, intercepting the blow with his force shield. The press of bodies separated them, and Kit reluctantly went to help the Deathstalker against the Investigator. He left the knife where it was in his back. He had more important things to think about.
Finlay half led and half carried Adrienne away from the main action, put their backs against a wall and lowered her to the floor. She was holding her stomach with both hands, and blood pumped from between her fingers. Her face was deathly white, her mouth stretched in a grimace like a hideous smile. She was breathing in short grunts, and her eyes were squeezed shut. Finlay looked around him desperately, and his gaze fastened on the nearby window. He grabbed Adrienne by the arms and pulled her to her feet again, and she cried out in pain despite herself.
'Hold on, Addie,' said Finlay. 'We're leaving.'
She didn't have the breath for an answer. Finlay got her moving toward the shattered window, cursing and encouraging her as necessary. A moment before, when he'd thought she was dead, his first thought had been that he was finally free of her, but he couldn't just stand by and watch her die, if only because he'd feel so guilty. Two Wolfe troops got in his way, and he cut them down almost without thinking. His mind was racing now, his body the finely tuned fighting machine of the Masked Gladiator. He manhandled Adrienne over to the gaping window, glanced down and then jumped out, taking Adrienne with him. They fell together for a heartstopping moment, and then slammed into the gravity sled hovering just below the window, abandoned by its troops.
Finlay turned his body so that it shielded Adrienne from the worst of the impact, but it was still enough to knock the breath out of her. He checked briefly for a pulse, grunted at how weak it was, and then scrambled over to the sled's controls. He had to get her to a doctor fast, but he wasn't sure where would be safe now. Campbell- dominated territories were undoubtedly under Wolfe control by now. That only left the underground. Finlay got the sled moving and headed away from the tower at full speed. He'd seen his father the, and it occurred to him that he
