blew it apart. Kast and Morgan died screaming as the energy tore them to shreds. They vanished in splashes of blood and splintered bone. Major Chevron died next, his dreams of conquest and victory shattered like his body. And still the energy tore on, slamming into the massed ranks of the Imperial marines. They all died, hundreds of men helplessly lifting their swords and guns against a force that could not be stopped or denied. Their bodies exploded, blood and bone tumbling on the air. And then it was all over, and a horrid quiet peace fell across the square.
Toby Shreck and Flynn looked at each other. Blood and death and carnage lay all around them, but they had not been touched. Even Flynn's camera was still in place, hovering above the square, staring down at Owen and Hazel, still sitting together with their backs against the wall. Flynn shook his head slowly.
'How come we're not dead?'
'Beats the hell out of me,' said Toby. 'Either they didn't see us as enemies, or we just weren't important enough to bother with.'
Owen and Hazel sat together, looking slowly about them, their breathing gradually easing as they realized the danger was past. The power that had passed briefly though them was gone, leaving no trace of its passage save a bone-deep weariness. They'd given all they had to give, and more, and there was nothing left in them now but a terrible tiredness of the mind, as well as the body. Owen's gaze fell upon Toby and Flynn, standing alone in the sea of carnage and broken bodies. He rose painfully to his feet, and beckoned for them to approach him. Flynn looked like he'd very much rather not, but Toby dragged him forward, until they were standing before the Deathstalker. He looked less like a legend up close, and more human. In fact, he looked mostly like a man who'd had to carry too many burdens in his time, but did it anyway, because there was no one else. He gestured at the camera hovering above him.
'Bring that thing down here. I have something to say.'
Flynn brought it down through his comm link, till it was hovering before Owen's face. He nodded to Flynn and Toby and then addressed the camera.
'Greetings, Lionstone, if you're looking in. This is the rightful Lord Deathstalker, coming to you live from the rebel city of Mistport. Just thought I'd let you know your invasion is a bust. It never stood a chance. Your army of professional killers was never going to be a match for a city of free men and women. And as soon as we've finished clearing up the mess you've made here, we'll be coming to see you. Remember my face, Lionstone. You'll live to see your forces scattered and your Empire fall, and then I will walk into Court, rip the crown off your head, and kick your nasty ass right off the Iron Throne. You should never have happened. You were an unfortunate mistake, an error in history, that I will put right at the first possible moment. Be seeing you, Empress.' He looked at Flynn. 'That's it. You can go now.'
'I don't suppose there's any chance of an exclusive interview?' said Toby Shreck. Owen looked at him, and Toby fell back a pace. 'No, I didn't really think so. Come on, Flynn, time to go. We don't want to outstay our welcome.'
And then they both turned and ran, the camera bobbing along behind them. Owen smiled tiredly. They had no way of knowing his speech had been pure bravado, using up what little strength he had left. He turned unsteadily, and went back to sit down beside Hazel. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was very shallow, but her eyes drifted halfway open as he settled himself at her side.
'Yeah. What you said, stud. Always knew your propensity for making speeches would come in handy one day.'
'How do you feel?' said Owen. It wasn't a casual question.
'Tired. At peace. What the hell did we tap into just then? Some power the Maze gave us?'
'I don't think so. It felt more like something we'd always had, something the Maze just put us in touch with. Maybe someday all Humanity could learn to do what we did.'
'Yeah,' said Hazel. 'Maybe. But I doubt we'll be around to see it. That energy blast pretty much used us up. There's nothing left in me anymore.'
'Same here,' said Owen. 'Guess our time's run out. There are worse ways to go. And at least we got a chance to throw a scare into the Iron Bitch first. Hazel, there's… something I've been meaning to tell you…'
'Same here,' said Hazel. 'My Blood addiction's gone. I can feel it. That energy surge scoured it right out of my system. I'm clean, at last.'
'I'm glad. Hazel, I wanted to say…'
And then his voice was drowned out by the roar of gravity engines overhead. Owen looked up, and then forced himself to his feet again. Six gravity barges were hovering above the square, their disrupter cannon trained on him and Hazel. Owen's hand clenched around his sword hilt, but knew that this time there wasn't going to be any last-minute escape. Even at his peak he doubted he'd have been able to stand against the massed disrupter cannon of six gravity barges. He looked up at them and grinned defiantly anyway.
'You people ever heard of the word overkill?'
'The fight's over, Deathstalker,' said an amplified voice from above. 'But you don't have to die here. Lionstone has empowered us to make you an offer. Surrender to us, and you will be allowed to live. Our scientists could learn much from studying you.'
'Tell them to go to hell, Deathstalker,' said Hazel, behind him. 'My mother didn't raise me to be a laboratory rat. Probably vivisect us, first chance they got. Or send their mind techs into our heads, to turn us to their side. We can't allow that, Owen.'
'Our sensors indicate that you are gravely wounded, and your companion is dying,' said the amplified voice. 'We can save both of you. We have a regeneration machine aboard the
'Owen…' said Hazel.
'I'm sorry, Hazel,' said Owen. 'I'm not ready for both of us to die.' He looked up at the gravity barges and threw down his sword. 'I surrender. Come and get us. But hurry it up. I don't think she's got much time left.'
'You bloody fool,' said Hazel.
He looked back at her, and smiled regretfully. 'Always, where you're concerned.'
Hazel tried to reach for her gun, but her fingers wouldn't work. Owen sat down beside her again and listened to her curse him till the Imperial troops came to take them both into custody.
Near the center of Mistport, lit bright as day by the burning buildings and out-of-control fires, Young Jack Random, John Silver, and the forces they led battled the invading Imperial forces to a standstill. The air was hot and smoky, with dark smuts floating in it, and the roar of the fires almost drowned out the roar of the gravity barges and Legion's triumphant howl. The fighting filled the streets from side to side, and spilled over into back alleys and culs-de-sac. The trampled snow turned to blood-soaked slush, and bodies lay everywhere. The Deathstalker's projectile weapons were proving their worth at close quarters, but even so the battle raged this way and that, neither side able to take the advantage for long. Steel hammered on steel, the fighters held face-to-face by the crush of the crowds. There was no room for strategy or tactics or fancy footwork, just the hard, steady work of human butchery and slaughter.
Young Jack Random was right there in the thick of it, his great frame standing out in the crowd, larger than life and apparently unbeatable. His war cries rang out above the din, loud and triumphant and unyielding, and every man who fought at his side felt twice the man for being in his presence. Random's sword rose and fell steadily, cutting a path through the enemy forces toward their commanders, refusing to be slowed or turned aside. His courage and determination inspired the rebels to ever greater efforts, throwing themselves into the fray as though their lives were nothing.
And right there in the middle of it, too, was John Silver. He was soaked in blood, as much from his own wounds as others', but still his sword was steady in his hand, as he pushed himself relentlessly forward. He was beyond pain or exhaustion now, driven by a simple refusal to lie down and die while he was still needed.
And slowly, step by step, foot by foot, the rebels forced the Empire back, denying them the heart of the city. The invasion met an implacable, unbeatable force, and broke against it. War cries from a hundred worlds and cultures rang above the slaughter, combining into a chilling roar of rage and courage and determination, and the invading forces had nothing with which to answer it. Some marines turned and ran, risking being shot by their own officers, who called desperately on their comm links for reinforcements, or orders to withdraw. The word came back to hold their ground. The gravity barges were on their way. All of them.
The deaf and dumb burglar called Cat sat on a cooling dead body, watching what was left of the Blackthorn Inn burn itself out. A blackened frame showed dimly through the smoke and fog, smoldering here and there. Nothing
