Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

wide unblinking eyes, but said nothing.
    The crowd of toys opened up to provide a way for the newcomers, a narrow gauntlet, bristling with weapons, which led into the open courtyard of the great wooden fortress. Finlay's breathing began to come fast and hurried, but he kept his face calm and unmoved. He had a strong feeling this would be a bad place to appear weak. He sneaked a glance at Giles, whose expression suggested he'd seen worse before and hadn't been impressed then. And maybe he had. Finlay had to smile. Trust a Deathstalker to seem at home in Hell. He'd already decided that if worse came to worst, he was going to do his very best to kill Harker first, then see how many toys he could kill before they dragged him down. He hoped he'd have time to kill Evangeline. He'd brought her into Hell; the least he could do was give her a quick death.
    Inside the courtyard, brightly lit by hundreds of flaring torches, on a throne carved from the stump of a great tree, sat Vincent Harker, the Red Man. The man in red. The man in the Santa Claus suit.
    Everyone came to a sudden halt. Even the Deathstalker's jaw dropped. Poogie hurried forward to bow to Harker, and then sat at his feet. Harker reached down and scratched the creature's head, and Poogie leaned against the man's knee with a long sigh, home at last. Harker was a large man, more muscle than fat, with long white hair and a bushy white beard, and he wore the Santa Claus suit with quiet authority. He smiled warmly at his guests, a wide, welcoming, and very sane smile.
    "The Red Man," said Toby. "Father Christmas. I should have known."
    "What else did you expect, on a world made for toys and children?" said Harker.
    His voice was rich and deep and very reassuring. "Welcome to my home. I was
    beginning to think you'd never get here. Please don't be concerned for your safety. My followers only ever act in self-defense. They're putting on a bit of a show at the moment, because they're afraid you've come to take me away from them. Once they see you're no threat, they'll calm down again. At least, I'm assuming you're not a threat. Why have you come such a long and dangerous way to find me? You're not Imperial forces."
    "Definitely not," said Evangeline, stepping forward and doing her best not to notice all the weapons that moved to follow her. "We represent the underground movement on Golgotha. A growing army of clones and espers and those who believe in liberty and justice, dedicated to rebellion. We understand you possess valuable tactical information concerning the Empire's forces. We're here to ask you to share that knowledge with us."
    "Ask?" said Harker. "That settles it; you're definitely not Empire troops. Come; sit down with me, and I'll tell you how I came to be here, and how I ended up as Santa Claus to a world of toys."
    A group of soldier dolls brought chairs, and the newcomers sat down before Harker. The soldier dolls retreated backwards, keeping their eyes on the newcomers and their hands near their weapons. Harker and his guests both pretended not to notice. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable. Harker leaned back in his throne.
    "The toys built this for me. I didn't ask them to, don't really believe in such things anymore, but they decided that as their leader I was entitled to a throne, and they can be very stubborn about some things. So I go along with it, to keep them happy. Sometimes I wonder who's really in charge here. Anyway, my story. When I crash-landed here, the war was still raging everywhere. Toy
    killing toy. Madness. Only newly brought to intelligence and life, and all they could do with it was kill and be killed. I saw the slaughter of toys and the death of innocence, and it changed me. Forever.
    "When I worked for the Empire, they called me the Cold Man, because nothing ever touched me. I dealt in plans and strategies, turning raw data into schemes and tactics that would ensure the highest possible enemy losses and acceptable Empire losses. And if thousands or sometimes millions of people died because of the decisions I made, I didn't care. I didn't see them. I didn't know them. They were just numbers.
    "Then I came here, to Summerland, and what I saw broke my heart. Because I saw the truth of what the toys really are now. They're children. Young, innocent, betrayed by the forces that gave them intelligence, then fed them only lies and hatred. The toys didn't understand what they were doing when they killed the humans. Shub manipulated