Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

them," said Moon. "It wasn't difficult. I'm a Hadenman."
    "I didn't know you could do things like that."

    "There are lots of things about me you don't know."
    Owen didn't have any answer to that, so he turned and gestured for the others to come and join him. They made slow progress through the heaps of the dead, keeping a constant wary eye on the surrounding jungle. Owen didn't blame them.
    He could feel the pressure of uncounted unseen eyes following his every move.
    The ship's guns had taught the creatures caution, but there was no telling how long that would last.
    "What did you say this hellhole was called?" said Hazel.
    "Shandrakor," Owen said absently, still looking around him. "This is where my ancestor fled when the Empire turned on him and sent the Shadow Men after him."
    "Who were they?" said Random, still trying to get his breath back after clambering over the bodies.
    "No one knows anymore," said Owen. "People apparently didn't talk about them much back then, if they knew what was good for them. The Shadow Men were the Emperor's hounds: unstoppable, quite deadly and never once defeated. Basically, pretty nasty and proud of it. They tracked my ancestor here, to the very edge of the Empire, and then nothing more was heard of them or him. No one ever came back from Shandrakor, no matter how large a force the Emperor sent. Eventually he turned his face away from the planet, and Shandrakor was not spoken of by anyone. Its coordinates became lost, its nature forgotten, and the name Shandrakor only survived as the battlecry of my Clan. Even then, we walked our own path. For a long time now, Shandrakor has been nothing but a legend, hidden away out here on the very edge of the Rim. Forgotten by everyone save obsessive historians like myself. We're about as far from the Empire now as you can get without passing into the Darkvoid."
    "Once I would have found that comforting," said Hazel, "but not anymore. This is
    a vicious place you've brought us to, Deathstalker. Humans don't belong here."
    "I like it," said Ruby. "It's got style."
    "We should head for the Standing while things are still quiet," said Random. "Do you have any force shields aboard, Owen?"
    "Just a portable screen. It's got enough range to cover us all while we walk, but as I recall the power cells are pretty depleted."
    "You're just full of good news, aren't you?" said Ruby. "Will it last long enough for us to reach the Standing?"
    Owen shrugged unhappily. "Unknown. It's only half a mile, but who knows how long that'll take through this jungle. It might last, or it might cut out at any time."
    Moon smiled. "Good. More exercise."
    Owen gave him a hard look. He had an unnerving feeling the Hadenman meant it.
    What with him and Ruby Journey, Owen was beginning to feel decidedly outclassed.
    He was also beginning to feel like the only sane person in the group. "I'll get the screen, and then we'd better make a start. This ship is still going to explode eventually, and on top of that, we don't know how long the days are here. I have a strong feeling it would be a really bad idea for us to be lost in the jungle when darkness falls. I hate to think what kind of creatures go on the prowl during the night."
    "Maybe everything just goes to sleep," said Hazel.
    Owen raised an eyebrow. "Would you?"
    The little light that did filter through the canopy was a dull brick red, as though the air itself was glowing from the rising heat of the day. Sweat poured off Owen as he cut a rough path through the close-set trees of the Shandrakor
    jungle. He could have just hung back and let the Hadenman do it. Moon didn't seem at all bothered by the heat, and his sword arm rose and fell as tirelessly as a machine. But Owen had his pride and insisted on taking his turn. He was beginning to feel like the weak link of the group. Everyone else was either an amazing fighter, a psychopath or a legend. Or any combination of the above. Owen was used to being the best there was. He'd been trained and raised to dominate any situation, to be the leader and inspiration of any group. But none of his aristocratic upbringing had prepared him for life as an outlaw on the run. So he ignored the heat and the sweat and his aching arm and persevered, hacking a path through the thick vegetation with his sword, and tried not to think what that was doing to the blade's edge.
    Everyone else stayed close behind him. Ruby and Hazel carried their swords at the ready. Random had a gun in each hand. And