Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

been unbeatable in the Arena, and adored by all. And now here he was, following Young Jack Random like all the others, forgotten and ignored in the great hero's shadow. Finlay shrugged. He could live with that, for now. There was work to be done.
    Evangeline was also lost in her own thoughts. She was back on Golgotha again, back in the Parade of the Endless, not far from her father. Her hated, despised father, who loved her as a woman, not a daughter. Evangeline had fled to Shannon's World, but now she was back. And it wouldn't be long before Gregor Shreck found out, and then the threats of torture or death to her friend Penny would begin again. Evangeline scowled, barely seeing the crowd around her. Maybe she could get the underground leaders to promise Gregor's safety, in return for Penny's release, unharmed. They owed her a favor, after all she'd done for them.
    If Penny was still alive… she wouldn't put it past her father to have killed Penny in her absence, out of spite. He was quite capable of such a thing. In which case she would find him and kill him, and to hell with the consequences.
    Finlay would understand. He knew all about revenge.
    Julian Skye was thinking about revenge, too. About Blue Block in general, and BB
    Chojiro in particular. He had loved her with all his heart, and she betrayed him
    to the torturers and the mind techs. And sometimes it seemed all he lived for now was a chance to make her pay. Now, at last, they were in the same city again. When the rebellion was over, he'd find her, no matter where she hid, and then he'd make her suffer as he had. (Or maybe he'd fall on his knees and promise her anything, if only she'd love him again. He still dreamed that, sometimes. In his worst nightmares.) Julian Sky gripped his sword tightly, and the smile that stretched his mouth had little of humor in it. First the rebellion, and the cause he'd given his life to. There'd be time for personal revenge afterward.
    All three had volunteered to be part of the gravity-sled armada, for their various reasons, but the underground leaders had been unwaveringly firm that they were needed here more. So they fought their way through the packed streets, following Young Jack Random, and did their best to keep their inner turmoil at arm's length until they had time to pay attention to it.
    And so they fought their way through the madness in the streets, taking on troops, Security men, and anything else the Empire could throw at them. At every turn there were more armed men, as the increasingly desperate Imperials struggled to stop the rebel forces advancing on the command center. Energy guns flared, explosives tore holes in the packed forces on both sides, and swords and axes swung in bloody arcs. Dead and wounded alike fell to be trampled underfoot.
    No one had the time to see to them. There was only the endless, almost hysterical push forward by the rebels, and the slow, panicking retreat of the Imperials. Steel blades swung in short, brutal arcs, punching into yielding flesh and out again, and blood ran like rivers in the street, choking the overflowing gutters. Men fell and the push went on, and the command center drew slowly nearer.

    And right there, at the front of it all, Young Jack Random stood tall and proud, swinging his great sword with both hands, and no man could stand against him.
    Their swords could not touch him or defend them from his wrath, and the men behind him roared his name as a battle cry. Finlay and Evangeline stuck close behind him, and were too busy to be jealous. Finlay was fighting at the peak of his powers, a dazzling display of swordsmanship that would have drawn cheers from his old Arena fans. Men actually tried to turn and run rather than face him. Finlay smiled his wolfish smile and killed them all anyway. He was doing what he was born to do and savoring every minute.
    Evangeline guarded his back and his blind spots with dogged efficiency. Finlay had taught her how to use a sword, though she never felt any of his dark joy for slaughter. She fought as a means to an end and nothing more, and only sometimes suspected that for Finlay the means was the end. Julian Skye's esper powers crackled on the air around them, deflecting disrupter beams and the occasional grenade. Now and again he'd gather his strength and let rip with a psistorm that sent armed troops flying helplessly in the grip of sudden storm winds, but mostly the fighters of both sides were packed too closely together for