Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

Silence. "There's been enough killing here. And she never would have surrendered. Just stay out of my sight, killer."
    He turned away to face Owen and Hazel, as though he didn't know what to do next.
    Stelmach and Frost were dead, and he had repudiated his Empress. It didn't seem possible that his whole life could have been destroyed in such a short time.
    "I'm sorry about the Investigator," said Owen. "Sometimes, it just isn't
    possible for everyone to win."
    "You loved her, didn't you?" said Hazel. "Did you ever tell her?"
    "She wouldn't have known how to answer me," said Silence. "She was an Investigator."
    There was nothing more to say, so they all turned to look at Lionstone, alone on her Throne. She glared back at them defiantly. All her champions were dead or defeated, but she still hadn't given up. It was an almost perfect moment of opposition, and it hung endlessly on the air, as though neither side wanted to break it. Hell had grown very quiet. The angel guards were dead, the maids-in-waiting were human again, and even the hologram illusions were still, as though waiting to see what would happen next. Owen moved slowly forward to stand alone at the foot of the Iron Throne. He'd come a long way to reach this place, this moment. To stand before the woman who'd destroyed his life and taken away everything he'd ever had or cared for. Because of her he'd been sent wandering through the Empire, always running from the hounds on his trail, never to feel safe or secure again. Because of her he'd been forced to become someone he still wasn't sure he approved of, the kind of man his Family had always wanted him to be—a warrior. Fighting for a cause he wasn't always sure he really believed in. But every time he wavered, all he had to do was remember a young girl lying bloodied on the Mistport snows, crippled by his sword, crying helplessly till he killed her out of mercy. Time to end it all, now. He nodded almost familiarly to the Empress.
    "It's over, Lionstone. Time to go. Step down."
    "No," said Giles. "Not yet. It isn't over till I say it's over. Step away from the Throne, Owen. This isn't your moment; it's mine."
    Everyone turned to look at him. The old warrior in his barbarian's furs, the
    legendary hero of centuries past, stood calmly a little distance away from the others, his sword in his hand. He smiled at them, and something in that smile made them all shiver. He lifted his blade and set the edge against his mercenary's scalplock. He sawed through the thick hair with ease, and then held it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment, before throwing it away.
    "That's it," he said calmly. "No more a mercenary. No more fighting for other men's causes. I am my own man again, the Deathstalker, and I will take the crown now, as it was always meant I should. I will be Emperor, and put things right again. I'm the only one who understands what needs to be done to restore the Empire. To make it strong again, before the aliens or the Hadenmen or Shub rise up to destroy Humanity. The people will follow me. They've always had a soft spot for heroes and legends. I will remake the old Empire, as it was a thousand years ago, before the rot set in. No more clones or espers or other genetic abominations. It was always meant that the Empire should be a human Empire."
    He smiled at Owen in a fatherly fashion. "It was always meant to be me, Owen. I knew when I went into stasis, 943 years ago, that I would have to plan for the long term. Step outside of time, so I could wait to return till the odds were in my favor again. All during that time, the computers in my Standing monitored events and maintained contact with my Clan. They planned and plotted, shaping events, preparing for my eventual return. Your father was the last contact, Owen. A very adroit agent. He set the final plans in motion—funded the rebels on Mistworld, created the Abraxus Information Center, and was finally planning a trip to Shandrakor to wake me when he made a misstep, drew attention to himself at just the wrong moment, and the Empress sent Kid Death to put an end to his intrigues.

    "It was a major blow. Your father had always been meant to be the leader of the coming rebellion, a warrior-politician with the legendary Deathstalker name. The people would have followed him, as he prepared them for my return. But then he was gone, and I had no choice but to replace him with you, a feeble historian who never even wanted to be the warrior his inheritance