Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

himself, and then lifted Morgana and waited for his opponent to come to him. The crowd were going wild at the prospect of finally seeing their champion beaten, humbled, perhaps even killed.
    They screamed warnings and advice and encouragement to both fighters, standing on their seats for a better view, and there was a flurry of last-minute betting as people changed their minds.
    The Gladiator stood his ground. He could run, but that wasn't his style. He could surrender and beg for mercy, but he didn't do that, either. He hefted Morgana angrily: a good sword, the best he'd ever known, but helpless against implanted steel armor. And then a thought came to him, and he smiled inside his featureless steel helm. Skye was almost upon him, sword pulling back for the killing thrust. The Masked Gladiator stepped forward in a perfect lunge, and the tip of his sword leapt out and plunged through Skye's left eyeball and on into his brain: the only part of him that hadn't been protected.
    For a long moment Auric Skye just stood there, transfixed on the champion's sword, and then the Masked Gladiator pulled Morgana free, and Skye collapsed as though that was all that had been holding him up. He fell heavily and lay still, and the Gladiator saluted him once with Morgana before turning away. The crowd was beside itself, cheering till their throats were raw, pounding their hands
    together till they ached, even those who'd been foolish enough to bet on Skye.
    The Masked Gladiator walked back to the main gates, one hand raised to acknowledge the crowd. And Auric Skye, who'd given up part of his humanity in his quest to become a bodyguard for Clan Chojiro, lay broken and forgotten on the bloody sands.
    In the Wolfe private box, Jacob turned triumphantly to his Family. "Now that is a real fighter. Strong, smart, committed. Find a weakness and exploit it. You could all learn a lesson from a man like that."
    His Family murmured politely in reply, but kept their thoughts to themselves.
    Everyone in Clan Wolfe knew all about finding and taking advantage of other people's weaknesses while guarding their own. It was what kept them alive from day to day. Daniel pictured himself in the featureless steel helm, standing haughtily over a number of dying bodies, not least Valentine and his father.
    Stephanie considered a rumor that was never more than a whisper: that underneath the steel helm lay the face of a woman, not a man. She smiled at the thought, and many were the faces of those who lay broken at her feet. Jacob tried for the hundredth time to come up with some plan, legal or illegal, that would win the Masked Gladiator's allegiance. Constance hugged the Wolfe's arm tightly and plotted marriages for her stepchildren, so that they would leave and allow her uninterrupted access to the Wolfe. And Valentine considered the many deaths he'd caused that day, and smiled and smiled and smiled.

Chapter 5
    Friends, Enemies and Fillies
    Mistworld was the rebel planet. The only rebel planet in the whole of the Empire. A world made by renegades and traitors, insurgents and troublemakers.
    When you'd been everywhere else and found no safe haven, there was always
    Mistworld. Outlaws, rogue espers, criminals, trash and scum all ended up on the planet of eternal winter. The world they'd built wasn't particularly pretty or civilized, but it was free, and every man, woman and child on Mistworld would fight to the death to keep it that way. Schemes for rebellion against the Empire came and went without accomplishing much, because the rebels were only safe as long as they stayed on Mistworld, protected by a powerful psionic screen that was the equal of anything the Empire could send against it The only city, Mistport, seethed with plots and plans and spies, not least from the Empire, who liked to know what was going on. And to this last refuge, this last chance, this last roll of the loaded dice came Hazel d'Ark and Owen Deathstalker, the ex-clonelegger and the outlawed Lord, to start a rebellion that would spread far beyond the world that birthed it.
    The Sunstrider howled out of hyperspace like a bullet shot from a gun, and then slowed reluctantly into high orbit around Mistworld. Its shields snapped on again, and the sensor spikes shimmered, but there was no trace anywhere of the two starcruisers that had been attacking it. In the luxurious main cabin, Owen sank back in his chair with a sigh, and Hazel blinked respectfully.
    "I'm impressed," she said finally.