Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

away, put up a hand to stop Owen when he moved forward to comfort him, and walked a little away, to be by himself. Lionstone sat speechlessly on her Throne, looking at the headless corpse lying at her feet. Captain Silence and Investigator Frost looked at each other.
    "Looks like it's down to us, Investigator."
    "Not for the first time, Captain."
    Silence nodded to Lionstone. "We've been through a lot of changes, Your Majesty, whether we wanted them or not, but our loyalty has never been in question. And if we kept our powers to ourselves, it was only so we could serve you better.
    Come on, Frost, time to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat one more time."
    He smiled at Owen and Hazel. "And we do have some unfinished business, you and I, don't we?"
    "Damn right," said Hazel, sweeping her sword back and forth before her like a cat twitching its tail.
    "Daddy…" said Jenny.

    "I'm sorry," said Silence. "But this is a matter of duty. And I've always known my duty."
    "Damn it, we don't have time for all this posing," said Ruby Journey. "If I wanted to watch fencing displays and grudge matches, I'd go to the Arena, so I could do it in a comfortable seat with a cold drink and a big bag of peanuts.
    We're supposed to be fighting a rebellion here. This is just keeping us from the more important things. Like looting. Head up, Lionstone. Giles had the right idea."
    And she raised her disrupter and opened fire on the Empress. But even as Ruby was taking aim, Stelmach shouted something incoherent and threw himself between Ruby and the Empress. He took the energy blast high on the chest. It tore away his right arm and vaporized much of the upper right side of his chest, leaving him lying twitching and moaning at the foot of the Throne. Silence and Frost were quickly there at his side, but it was clear the Security Officer was dying.
    He put out his remaining hand to Silence, who took it firmly in his.
    "All I ever wanted… was to serve," said Valiant Stelmach. "To be loyal. To give my life for the Empress."
    "No one ever doubted your loyalty," said Silence, but he was saying it to a dead man. He gently placed Stelmach's hand on his chest and patted it twice, saying good-bye.
    "Pity," said Frost. "He was a good man, in his way."
    "I'm surprised you cared," said Silence.
    "I liked him," said Frost. "He was a coward, a weakling, and probably harbored rebel sympathies, but he did his best to be brave and do the right thing anyway.
    It's easy for us to be brave, with our training and abilities. All he had was
    guts. And a willingness to die for his Empress."
    "And now it's our turn," said Silence. He got to his feet. Frost beside him, and together they took up their places before the Throne. Silence smiled once at Jenny, then nodded to Owen. "Let's do it, Deathstalker."
    Owen stepped up to face Silence, and Hazel moved forward to face Frost. Owen hefted his sword casually. "From what I've been hearing, Captain, you and the Investigator gained abilities similar to ours from the Madness Maze. Which means we could raise our powers, go head-to-head, reduce the Court to rubble, and kill everyone in it, and still end up in a stalemate. So what say we do this the honorable way. Just sword to sword. How does that sound to you?"
    "Honorable," said Silence. "And what I'd expect from a Deathstalker. Besides, we've always wanted to know which of us is better with a blade, haven't we?"
    "Damn right," said Frost.
    "Then let's do it," said Hazel. "One last fight, as humans. Before we forget how."
    And so they went forward to meet each other, the last great champions of Empire and rebellion, four good people whose differing beliefs could not be reconciled, only decided at the point of a sword. Owen and Silence circled each other slowly, their swords clashing lightly, tip to tip, as they studied each other's style for openings and vulnerabilities. Hazel and Frost went straight at each other, hacking and cutting, slamming their blades together, fueled by a rivalry that was stronger than hate or rage.
    Owen and Silence stamped and lunged and recovered, both of them cold and calculating, testing their strength and skills to the limits, both trained in harsh and unforgiving schools. Their blades crashed together, sparks flying on the air, neither man prepared to give an inch or retreat a step. Their swords
    flew so fast the eye could barely keep up, driven by skills and reflexes almost too quick for human thought. Owen didn't boost. It never occurred