Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

then her breath went out of her in a series of shudders, and she lay dead in his arms. Owen held her close and rocked her like a sleeping child.
    "I did it for you," he tried to say past his tears. "I did it all for you,
    Hazel."
    He heard footsteps approaching, but he didn't look up. He had nothing to say to anyone. And then someone with Hazel's voice said his name. He stopped crying, a wild hope jumping in his heart, but it was only when the dead Hazel disappeared from his arms that he finally believed it. He made himself look up, and there was Hazel d'Ark standing over him. The real original, this time. He scrambled to his feet, and then just stood there and stared at her, afraid to touch her in case she disappeared, too. Finally she reached out and took him in her arms, and he hugged her fiercely to him, like a drowning man clinging to the only thing that could save him. They stood that way for a long time, both of them breathing hard.
    "I thought I'd lost you," Owen said finally. "I really thought I'd lost you."
    "It's all right, Owen," said Hazel. "I'm here. I'll always be here for you."
    After a while they let go and stepped back to look at each other. Owen wiped the last of the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Hazel smiled at him awkwardly. She looked around at the dead bodies heaped on the antechamber floor, and nodded, impressed.
    "Way to go, aristo. Remind me never to get you angry at me."
    "Never happen," said Owen, his voice still just a little unsteady. "Hazel, I…"
    "I know. But we can talk about that later. Right now, we still have an Empire to overthrow."
    Owen shook his head. "It's always business first with you, isn't it. Hazel?"
    Jenny and Giles came forward to join them. Jenny had been busy smashing the esp-blockers, and Giles had tied a handkerchief round his head to stop the bleeding. It wasn't the cleanest of handkerchiefs, but Owen didn't think he'd say anything. With the blood still drying on his face, the old warrior looked
    not unlike a pirate of old.
    "Nice show, Deathstalker," said Jenny briskly. "I'm impressed. Are you sure you're not the Mater Mundi in disguise?"
    "Positive," said Owen. "Whatever I'm becoming, it's not an esper. It's… more than that."
    "Still, you did well, kinsman," said Giles. "You were wasted as a scholar, boy."
    Toby and Flynn emerged from the alcove where they'd been hiding, and hurried over to join the others, Flynn's camera tagging along behind them.
    "We're fine, too, just in case anybody cares," said Toby, just a little hurt.
    "Oh, we never worried about you," said Hazel. "Everyone knows journalists are harder to kill than cockroaches."
    And then, by some unspoken agreement, they all turned and looked at the great steel double doors that led into Lionstone's Court. It was very quiet in the antechamber, as though even the dead were waiting to see what would happen next.
    "Do we knock?" said Hazel. "Or do we blast our way in?"
    "I don't think we need to knock," said Giles. "Lionstone knows we're here. She also knows she can't keep us out."
    As if on cue, the doors swung slowly open, silent for all their massive size and weight. Bloodred light spilled out into the antechamber, along with the stench of blood and brimstone. Owen and Hazel started forward, sword and gun in hand, and they all walked forward into Hell.
    In Court, before the Iron Throne, Alexander Storm gave in to his need to strut a bit. His existence as an Imperial agent deep within the rebel structure had of necessity involved hiding who and what he really was, so now he took the opportunity to show off a little. The Empress was smiling down at him
    approvingly, and Dram and Valentine looked quite jealous. Razor and the SummerIsle stared coldly at him from their positions just behind the Throne, but Storm didn't care about their opinions. Razor was an Investigator, the Kid was a psychopath. Silence and Frost and Stelmach didn't matter either. They were renowned for failing the Empress, whereas he had succeeded brilliantly.
    "I've been an Imperial agent ever since the rebels got their heads handed to them on Cold Rock," he said proudly to his audience. "I saw Jack fall and be taken, and knew that was the end of any real hopes for the rebellion. And I'd fought for so very long, with nothing to show for it. So I surrendered and struck a deal. It wasn't difficult. They were glad to have me. They recognized my worth. And all these years I've wormed my way deeper and deeper into the heart