Deathstalker Coda (58 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
And one by one, and then dozens by dozens, the thralls began to collapse. They fell limply to the ground, and did not rise again, in all the streets and squares and crowded bloody places around the Imperial Palace. The song of Jesamine, and the Ashrai and the people who had come to save a city and a world, had a strength and a force and a power that not even the uber-espers could match. Their minds were forced out of those they’d possessed, and the grounds around the palace were carpeted with the living empty shells of what had once been men and women.
But Jesamine couldn’t sing forever, and eventually even her voice gave out. Without her to lead them, the Ashrai and the people fell out of the song. And so everywhere else in the city, the fighting went on, perhaps a little more savagely than before.
Brett Random’s first instinct had been to bolt for the safety of the Rookery the moment his pinnace landed, and go to ground there until all the fighting was safely over. He knew all kinds of hiding places in the Rookery, where even his oldest friends and enemies wouldn’t have been able to find him. But the sheer number of thralls he faced almost immediately made it clear running out was not a viable option. He wouldn’t get ten paces on his own. Brett whimpered, swore at everything and everyone, and drew his weapons. Rose Constantine had drawn her weapons even before they’d landed properly. She saw the army of thralls laid out before her, thirsting for her blood, and smiled widely. She hefted her sword once, and went to meet them like a lover.
Brett and Rose soon ended up fighting back to back, separated from the rest of the fighters they’d come down with. Rose didn’t hold back for anyone as she cut a bloody path through the enemy, and Brett was terrified to be separated from her. The tides of battle moved them well away from the Imperial Palace. Brett was forced to call up all the fighting skills he’d learned from Rose, just to survive, and for a while the two of them fought well and finely, cutting down every thrall that came within reach. They were both faster and stronger than any human had a right to be, and none of the thralls could match them for a moment.
But Brett could still see other soldiers dying, pulled down and torn apart by the thralls, and his borrowed courage and skills were no match for the growing certainty that even with the Wild Rose at his side, eventually the thralls would get him too. There were just too many of them. He couldn’t run, and he knew his fighting skills weren’t enough on their own, so he reluctantly did the one thing that scared him the most. He deliberately reopened the old mental link between him and Rose, and used his esper compulsion to slam their minds together, so that he could share in all the wild madness that made Rose the unbeatable fighter she was. Their minds opened up and meshed together, all the parts fitting into place, into one larger structure. Rose laughed aloud, delighting at the feel of his mind in hers, and hers in his. They both knew everything about each other, all their skills and secrets. The whole process was finished in a second, and suddenly the thralls were faced with a new threat: two superhuman fighters who fought as one. Equally skilled, equally savage.
Brett and Rose struck about them with inhuman speed and skill, performing dark wonders of swordsmanship, piling up the bodies around them, so that the thralls had to climb over the fallen to get at their enemies. The uber-espers looked on Brett and Rose through their proxy eyes, and then had to look away, because the two burned so very brightly and fiercely. The uber-espers called thralls away from other, lesser threats, and commanded them to bring down Brett and Rose at any cost.
Brett and Rose fought on with their bodies, but their minds were elsewhere. The process they had started was still continuing. Their minds opened up and up, meshing together on every level, merging into one incredible mind. A single mind, male and female, one personality operating in two bodies simultaneously. What the uber-espers imposed, Brett and Rose learned to do voluntarily. The process that Finn’s esper drug had begun, and the Madness Maze had continued, now reached its fruition in a single mind that was far more than the sum of its parts. It was a fusion, the best of both minds and the worst, all the knowledge and experience and memories of two people, now combined into one. It was a new thing, and BrettRose woke up smiling.
Their combined will hit the thralls like a hammer blow, hurling them away dead and broken. BrettRose looked about them, and more thralls blew away under the pressure of their gaze, opening up a wide space around the two bodies with a single mind. The uber-espers lashed out with a telepathic attack focused through their thralls, but it glanced harmlessly away from the new creature’s shields. The uber-espers recoiled from this new thing, and retreated, shocked and horrified by stirrings of a long-buried memory. The thralls turned and ran, leaving BrettRose standing alone in an empty square, surrounded by the dead. They slowly lowered their swords and their breathing steadied, their many wounds slowly but steadily healing themselves.
Nikki Sixteen, that proud and feisty human-alien hybrid from the Rookery, ran through the square at that moment with a dozen of her fellow fighters, heading for the palace, drawn by what they’d heard in Jesamine’s song. She stopped as she recognized Brett and Rose, flashed Brett a smile, and then hesitated. Brett was different. She could feel it. There was . . . more to him. Brett and Rose looked at Nikki, at the same moment, in the same way, and Nikki backed away from them. She was frightened, and she didn’t know why. She ran after her companions, out of the square, not even sure what it was she was running from. Except that it felt . . . like Brett was dead. Or at least gone.
Gil Akotai led his Mistworld warriors through the streets, using sharp and cunning tactics to split the thrall armies apart into more manageable groups. Mistworlders knew all about strategy and dirty fighting. Gil swung his long curved blade with wide easy strokes, husbanding his energy, always leading from the front. More and more people came to join him as news of his success spread, and soon he was leading an army of his own through the Parade of the Endless. His skill and courage were unmatched, and he built his own legend that day, through feats of valor and derring-do that were all the more impressive because they came from a simple man, untouched by the dubious blessings of the Madness Maze. The Mistworlders chanted his name as a battle cry, and others took it up as Gil Akotai led them unstoppably towards the heart of the city. News cameras came rushing in from all directions to broadcast it all live. People on worlds all across the Empire followed his exploits, because he was one of them, not a legend or monster from the Maze; just a man, with a man’s courage and determination. Gil Akotai led his people on, cutting a bloody path through the chaos towards the Imperial Palace.
John Silence, the last survivor of those who’d come down in his pinnace, made contact with the clone guards and took control of them. They weren’t much use without officers to guide them, but they recognized Silence’s natural authority, and gratefully accepted his tactics and orders. Silence recognized them as clones, but had no idea of their origin. They still wore their steel masks. But they were a fighting force, and just what Silence needed, so he didn’t question them too deeply. He just set them to work, killing thralls and pulling together, and then he led them into battle, fighting solidly and well. The Maze might not have granted him miraculous powers, like Owen and the others, but he was still the greatest fighting soldier of his time. He’d even gone head-to-head with Owen Deathstalker, and held his own. The thralls were no match for him. He looked into their possessed eyes, and was reminded of his battles long ago against Shub’s Ghost Warriors.
Nothing changes,
he thought, just a little bitterly. The Ghost Warriors were a very long time ago, but he didn’t feel old. In fact, it seemed to him that he’d never fought better than this.
Nothing changes,
he thought, just a little bitterly. The Ghost Warriors were a very long time ago, but he didn’t feel old. In fact, it seemed to him that he’d never fought better than this.
He said as much to Investigator Frost, and she agreed, smiling. She stuck close to his side, warning him of dangers he missed.
Silence and his clone guards reached the palace steps not long after Jesamine’s marvelous song, and he led them carefully through the fallen thralls bodies to the foot of the steps. Nina spotted him, yelled a cheerful greeting, and came bounding down the steps for a quick interview with this new leader of the guards. (Lewis and Jesamine had already refused an interview, and Stuart never had much to say.) But she stopped suddenly, distracted by one of the guards. The steel mask had been torn away during a struggle, and for the first time Nina could see one of the guard’s faces. And for all the distortion, she recognized it immediately as Finn’s. She turned quickly and ripped the mask off another guard.
“Clones!” said Nina. “Finn’s clones—all of them! Another exclusive!”
And she did her happy dance, right there in front of a bemused Silence. And then she went bounding back up the steps to spill the news to Stuart. She forgot all about interviewing the solemn-looking man who’d led the guards into the square. She had a feeling she ought to know him, but that could wait. Besides, she thought, glancing back for a moment, he did seem awfully busy chatting with someone who wasn’t there . . .
Elsewhere in the city, the aliens from the Rookery had joined the fight against the invading thralls. They emerged from unexpected places to rend and kill unsuspecting thralls, and enjoyed themselves immensely. Led by the silver-armored Toch’Kra, they came boiling out of sewer openings and factory outlets, and erupted from boarded-up factories and pollution dumps, catching the thralls by surprise. The aliens tore the possessed humans apart. They didn’t know the bodies were mind-wiped, and they didn’t care. They had grievances to address, and besides, they were hungry. Sometimes they had to be restrained from attacking the clone guards and the fleet’s soldiers. The Rookery people cheered the aliens on, which was something of a new sensation for them.
The monsters from Shandrakor quickly gravitated towards the aliens, and fought by their side. They felt more at home there, though they politely declined when asked if they’d like to join the feasting. The monsters excelled at fighting the thralls, partly because of their bestial natures, honed by long years of struggle for survival on Shandrakor, but mostly because they had nothing left to lose.
They had been promised that they could come home, and here they were. It might be called Logres now rather than Golgotha, but this was still the Parade of the Endless, just as they remembered. Even if it had been fancied up a bit since their time. They were home again, and if they had only come back to fight and die, that was fine by them.
Michel du Bois, one of the few surviving members of Parliament, fought with his back to a wall in a side alley already choked with bodies. Most of the Virimonde warriors he’d come down with were already dead, but he and a dozen others fought on, stubbornly refusing to be dragged down and torn apart like the others. Du Bois chanted the old Deathstalker battle cry,
Shandrakor!
as he swung his sword with more defiance than skill. Du Bois had always been fiercely loyal to his homeworld, if not always to its most famous Paragon, Lewis; but with the slaughter of Clan Deathstalker by Finn’s creatures, all the people of Virimonde had sworn to become Deathstalkers in their place; and du Bois was no different. He had been among the first to volunteer to come and fight on Logres, even though he was far more a politician than a warrior. He thought he’d done well enough, considering. He’d killed thralls. His only regret was that he should have to die in such a squalid back alley, so far away from the House of Parliament and the Imperial Palace, where he’d spent so much of his life.
Shandrakor!
as he swung his sword with more defiance than skill. Du Bois had always been fiercely loyal to his homeworld, if not always to its most famous Paragon, Lewis; but with the slaughter of Clan Deathstalker by Finn’s creatures, all the people of Virimonde had sworn to become Deathstalkers in their place; and du Bois was no different. He had been among the first to volunteer to come and fight on Logres, even though he was far more a politician than a warrior. He thought he’d done well enough, considering. He’d killed thralls. His only regret was that he should have to die in such a squalid back alley, so far away from the House of Parliament and the Imperial Palace, where he’d spent so much of his life.
He’d wanted to see them once again, at least, before he died.
One by one, the men and women around him were dragged down, and killed. Each and every one of them went down fighting to the last. They fought impossible odds, as a Deathstalker should, and not one of them broke and ran. So Michel du Bois couldn’t either. And when he finally fell, still flailing about him with his sword, his last thought was:
Ah, Lewis, I always knew you’d be the death of me.
Ah, Lewis, I always knew you’d be the death of me.
The whole city was a battleground now. The thrall invasion had been halted by the starcruisers’ actions outside the city, but the armies of thralls already inside the city were still surging through the streets of the Parade of the Endless. The tides of battle swept this way and that, and apart from one small area around the Imperial Palace, no one could tell for sure which way the war was going.
Inside the court, the five assembled uber-espers launched the full force of their considerable will against the waiting Douglas Campbell and Finn Durandal, and once again they failed. They simply could not reach the two men standing steadily before them. The uber-espers looked at each other, baffled. No esp-blocker ever made could have stood up to such an attack. And then cold, harsh laughter rang out on the air from nowhere. The uber-espers’ heads snapped round. Screaming Silence shook violently, rattling her chains, and Blue Hellfire let out a low moaning. Gray Train actually lost control of his dusty shape for a moment. All the uber-espers knew that laugh. And as they looked wildly about them, Diana Vertue stepped casually out from behind Finn’s throne, to fix them all with her savage glare.
“I’ve been here all along,” she said flatly. “Hidden behind the strongest shields I ever created. I walked in here with Douglas and Tel, and nobody saw or heard me. Even they couldn’t be sure I was with them. They just had to take it on trust. You see, Douglas and Finn were the bait, but I am the trap. I knew you’d never face me willingly, even if you did manage to kill me once, so Douglas and I came up with a plan to bring all of you to me. And guess what—I brought a few friends along.”
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