Deathstalker Coda (2 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
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eISBN : 978-1-101-09502-7
LAST NIGHT I DREAMED OF LEWIS DEATHSTALKER.
He never wanted to be King. He never wanted to be the Champion. He only ever wanted to do his duty: to protect the innocent and punish the guilty. But he fell in love with his best friend’s fiancée, and was in turn betrayed by another friend. They took away his good name, and made him an outlaw.
Deathstalker luck. Always bad.
I saw him gather friends and allies, and set out to raise an army to overthrow the forces of evil, like another Deathstalker before him, and I wanted to warn him that heroes have a tendency to die young, and bloody. I saw old friends return from the past, and legends walk in history once more. Stories left unfinished have a way of enforcing their own endings.
In my dream I saw planets burning in the long night, and armies of the dead overrunning the cities of men.
All in a dream . . . and all so very long ago. Or maybe it was just yesterday.
All stories come to an end, in Time.
CHAPTER ONE
DEALING WITH OLD BUSINESS, AND NEW
O
wen Deathstalker was in a coma, and everyone else was panicking.
wen Deathstalker was in a coma, and everyone else was panicking.
On the planet Haden, deep down in the man-made crater called the Pit, in the steel corridors men had built to surround and contain the Madness Maze, a lot had happened in a short time. That renowned hero and legend Owen Deathstalker had returned from the dead, walked out of the Maze with his descendant Lewis, worked a number of quite remarkable miracles, and then gathered up the minds of everyone present to take a fast trip across space in order to observe the Terror close up. Unfortunately, that most ancient and awful destroyer of worlds and civilizations turned out to be, in some as yet unexplained way, Owen’s long-lost love, Hazel d’Ark. Now everyone was back in their right bodies again, but Owen was curled up in a fetal ball, eyes squeezed tight shut, dead to the world and floating about three feet above the gleaming steel floor. Everyone else had since given themselves up to alarm and confusion and trying very hard not to wet themselves.
As Jesamine was fond of saying: Some days things wouldn’t go right if you put a gun to their head.
The AIs of Shub were the only ones to remain calm and unruffled; though admittedly it was hard to tell the difference between a calm and an excited robot, when they all had featureless blue steel faces. Still, for the moment half a dozen of them were surrounding Owen’s hovering body in an honor guard, and politely but firmly refusing to let anyone get too close. (This followed an understandable but regrettable incident where Brett Random had climbed onto Owen’s body and pounded on his chest with both hands, shrieking
Wake up, you bastard!
)
Wake up, you bastard!
)
The renowned con man, thief, and famed substance abuser was now striding up and down the corridor, all but bouncing off the steel walls, waving his fists in the air and loudly declaring that he’d always known no good would come of meddling with the Madness Maze. His face was flushed, his lean angular body all but crackled with frustrated energy, and his language was getting really distressing. An awful thought struck him, and he froze in midstep before suddenly whirling round to glare at Owen’s unresponsive floating body.
“Wait a minute! Wait just one goddamned minute! Is everyone who’s gone through the Madness Maze going to turn into a Terror eventually? Are we all going to end up as galaxy-devouring monsters? Why is everyone looking at me like that? It’s a reasonable question.”
“It’s a totally unnerving question, and quite probably the last thing I need to think about right now!” said Jesamine Flowers. “Aren’t things bad enough as they are? I can feel one of my heads coming on.” The blond diva’s famously beautiful face had gone all blotchy with shock and stress, and she’d clasped both her hands together in front of her to stop them from trembling. Lewis tried to put a comforting arm across her shoulders, and she shrugged him off almost angrily as she glared at the comatose Owen. “Damn you, Owen bloody Deathstalker! You can’t just drop a bombshell like that on us and then run off to hide inside yourself! Wake up! Lewis, make him wake up!”
“Don’t look at me,” said Lewis. “I’m the idiot who thought coming here might actually help us with our problems. Instead, we seem to have acquired a whole bunch of new ones.” He leaned back against the metal wall, his muscular arms folded across his barrel chest, his famously ugly features creased in thoughtful lines. “If the Terror really is or was Hazel d’Ark . . . if that is what the Maze’s power finally turns you into . . . then I may have made a real error of judgement in bringing Owen back from the dead. We could end up with two Terrors on our hands, and I think I’d like to go and sit down in a corner and cry for a while, if that’s all right with everyone.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Brett said immediately. “You got us into this mess, it’s up to you to get us out of it!”
“Maybe . . . if we were to put Owen back into the Maze,” said Jesamine. “Maybe that would . . . freeze him as he is, or something.”
“I don’t think that would work,” said Lewis.
“It might! We could push or tug him, or . . .”
“No, I meant I don’t think the Maze works that way. Once it’s finished with someone, it shoves them right out the nearest exit. Good-bye, off you go, don’t forget to write. Remember?”
“No,” said Jesamine, looking away. “I don’t remember anything about being in the Maze. I don’t think it wanted me to. Only Deathstalkers get to know the secrets of the Maze.”
“I could always kill Owen,” said Rose Constantine, and everyone turned to look at her. She looked calmly back at them, standing unnaturally still and poised as she always did, the tall cold killer in her bloodred leathers, with dark hair and darker eyes. Her crimson mouth moved in something like a smile as she contemplated murder. “When in doubt, cutting your enemy’s head off and using it as a football usually puts an end to most problems. I can do it, if you want. I’m not scared of Owen Deathstalker.”
“Yes, but that’s because you’re a psychopath,” Brett said kindly. “Even in a coma, the Deathstalker is still undoubtedly the most dangerous thing you’ll ever meet.”
“I know,” said Rose. “I like a challenge. Just the thought of killing the legendary Owen Deathstalker gets me all hot.” The red leathers creaked loudly as her bosom swelled.
“I want to go home,” said Brett. “I don’t belong here, I really don’t.”
“In any case,” the main Shub robot said politely, “we would not allow you to try to harm the Deathstalker. He is under our protection, now and always. We owe him so much. You are all becoming unduly concerned. There is no evidence to suggest that anyone other than Hazel d’Ark will ever become a Terror. We were among the last to see her alive, two hundred years ago, and she was then already half mad with loss and grief. Only an insane mind, backed by the Maze’s power, could become something like the Terror.”
“And I wouldn’t let you touch him either,” said John Silence, and most people jumped because they’d forgotten he was there. The man who was once Captain Silence of the old Imperial Navy, and more recently Samuel Chevron, notable trader and confidant of Kings, was actually rather quiet and ordinary looking, considering who he was and all the legendary things he’d done. He tended to blend into the background at gatherings, and preferred it that way.
“May I remind you all that there is at present a fleet of hundreds of Imperial starcruisers in orbit over this world? They came here to wipe us all out, and only the appearance of the blessed Owen Deathstalker stopped them. The captains of those ships are currently waiting for him to tell them what to do next, and I really don’t think they’re going to settle for anyone but him. I wouldn’t.”
The argument staggered on for some time, with voices rising and falling and going nowhere fast, but Lewis stopped listening. He studied Owen’s floating form and calm face, and made himself consider a number of unpalatable thoughts. He didn’t know what he’d expected would happen once he’d brought Owen back from the dead, but this certainly wasn’t it. He’d hoped that having Owen back would help sort things out, make his way clearer. That Owen would know immediately what to do, and would step forward to take over. Then Lewis could set aside the responsibility he’d so reluctantly shouldered. But instead, now he had even more things to worry about. Most definitely including the possibility that what Owen had just discovered had been too much for him; a shock too great for even a legendary hero to bear. He could be catatonic . . . he could even be dying again. Lewis edged around the arguing group, and quietly mentioned his concerns to the main Shub robot.
“That thought had occurred to us,” murmured the robot. “We have been attempting to investigate the Deathstalker’s condition with every sensor at our command. But, I have to admit that even our most advanced tech has been unable to tell us a thing about him. To be blunt, since his transformation in the Maze, and indeed his return from the dead, which we’re really hoping you’re going to explain to us someday, Owen Deathstalker has apparently become so . . . different, so other, that he doesn’t even register on most of our instruments. What readings our sensors are getting make no sense at all. We are forced to conclude that Owen is no longer human, in any sense that we can understand. If you have any suggestions as to how we should proceed, Lewis, we are quite ready to listen to them.”
“I’ve got one very immediate suggestion,” growled Lewis. “Can some of your robots please drag the reptiloid’s body out of here? She didn’t smell that good even when she was alive, and ever since Owen ripped her heart right out of her chest, the smell has become seriously revolting. I’m sure we’d all think much more clearly without the distraction . . .”
Two more robots appeared and effortlessly dragged Saturday’s body away and round a corner, leaving a trail of dark blood behind them. This caught everyone’s attention, and they actually stopped shouting at each other to watch. Silence seized the opportunity to try to be the voice of reason again.
“I really think we should make every reasonable effort to wake Owen,” he said heavily. “Before every captain in the fleet above us starts knocking on our door, demanding answers.”
Jesamine gave him a hard look. “Why don’t you do something? You’re one of the original Maze people, like Owen. Weren’t you all supposed to have some mental link? The legends said—”
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