Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

something crawls into my mouth and dies. I need another drink."
    "No you don't," said Jenny sternly. "Go back to sleep and sleep off what you've had first."
    "Do you really care for me?" said David, looking at Alice somewhat owlishly.
    "Yes," said Alice, smiling. "Haven't I said so often enough?"

    "I need to hear it," said David. "I'm really very insecure."
    "All men want to be loved," said Jenny. "It's a very profitable weakness."
    "I don't," said Kit. "Wouldn't know what to do with love if I had it."
    "Yes, but you're weird," said David.
    The two boys grinned at each other, threw aside the cloaks covering them, and got somewhat stiffly to their feet. They were caught in that muddy serene haze between the drunk and the hangover. They sat down beside their respective girls and poured themselves ale from the jug in the middle of the table. It was warm and flat, but life's like that sometimes. The tavern bar seemed cool and calm and clear, divorced from the world, adrift in the early hours of the morning between dark and light. David took a large gulp from his mug and pulled a face.
    "God, this stuff is rough. I swear my palate goes slumming every time I set foot inside this place."
    "Where's everyone gone?" said Kit. "I was just getting started. I could go all night if I wanted to. I could use a little action."
    "I'm here," said Jenny.
    "I mean real action. I miss the fighting and dueling we had on Golgotha. No one here worth fighting. What's the point in being the best there is with a sword, if I never get a chance to show it off?"
    "Who says you're the best?" said David. "You may have all the tricks, but I have the boost."
    "One of these days we'll have to find out," said Kit.
    "Yeah," said David. "One of these days."
    They grinned at each other and drank more ale. "Be honest," said David. "Didn't you get enough bloodshed in the Arenas? I mean, we got through a hell of a lot
    of opponents in our short time on the bloody sands."
    "It's never enough," said Kit. "Still, there are… distractions, here."
    "Glad to hear it," said Jenny. She put an arm around Kit's shoulders, and he smiled at her.
    "We could always go back to Golgotha. Just for a visit," said David. "See if we could scare up some action in the Arenas. There's always some poor fool who thinks he's good with a sword."
    "What about us?" said Jenny.
    "What about you?" said Kit.
    "If you're going, we want to go, too," said Alice.
    "You wouldn't like it," said David.
    "Why?" said Jenny, bristling. "Because we're peasants? Because we're not sophisticated enough to show off to your precious friends and Families?"
    "Well, yes, basically," said Kit.
    "Screw you," said Jenny.
    "Maybe later," said Kit.
    "You could teach us all we need to know," said Alice. "Oh please, David. I've always wanted to go to homeworld."
    "We'll see," said David. "Maybe if you're good."
    "Oh, I'm very good," said Alice. "Remember?"
    They grinned at each other. Jenny glared at Kit, who stared calmly back. The conversation could have gone in any number of directions, and probably would have, if a starship hadn't crash-landed right outside the tavern. The first those inside knew of its coming was a long, descending scream of straining engines, high up in the sky above the tavern. The four of them got rather unsteadily to their feet, opened a window, and looked out. The air was bracingly
    cool and sobering, the sun barely up. The grey skies were splashed with blood.
    And down through the clouds a ship came howling, with its outer hull on fire.
    "Who the hell is that?" said Alice.
    "Can't see any markings on it," said Kit calmly. "It's not one of yours, is it, David?"
    "Don't think so. It hasn't got my crest on it. Besides, no one's supposed to know I'm here. Whoever that is, it's coming down at one hell of a pace. It occurs to me we might be a damn sight safer if we were to get away from the window. If that ship crashes anywhere near here, there's going to be wreckage and shrapnel flying in all directions."
    "I think it's still under control," said Jenny. "More or less."
    The blazing craft swept over the tavern, the roar of its engines deafening at close quarters. The floor shook under their feet, and streams of dust and sawdust fell down from the beamed ceiling. They all ducked instinctively, but by the time they'd reacted, the craft had turned around and headed back again. The engines cut in and out, and then it dropped from the sky, crashing as much as landing in the courtyard outside the