Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

reappeared around them. Silver fell back a step, shaking and shuddering, his head still full of the stench of spilled blood and burning bodies, the hideous unending scream still ringing his ears. Hazel stood and looked at him, cold and unforgiving as any oracle.
    "That's the future, John. Your future and mine. And you helped bring it about.
    Something Bad is coming to Mistworld, Something Very Bad. And it will be here soon."
    And then suddenly she was just Hazel again, her cloak of power and majesty gone in a moment, and she sank back down into her chair by the fire again, looking small and tired and very, very vulnerable. Silver slowly moved forward and sat down in the chair facing her. Part of him wanted to run screaming from the room, but he couldn't do that. Part of him was frightened almost to panicking by the
    hideous thing he'd seen his old friend become, but he couldn't let her see that.
    She needed him, needed her old friend and comrade, and though he had done many awful things in his time, a few of which even he was ashamed of, John Silver was damned if he'd let her down. They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound in the room the quiet crackling as logs shifted in the heat of the fire.
    The room seemed very cold.
    "What happened to you. Hazel?" Silver said finally. "You never had those powers before."
    Hazel smiled wearily. "What happened to you, John? What happened to the people we used to be?"
    "Things were simpler, when we were young," said Silver, looking into the fire because he found it easier than looking at her. "You were a merc, and I was a pirate, both of us convinced we were destined for greater things. We made a great team as confidence artists. We ran the Angel of Night swindle for three years straight, remember? Though my favorite was always the lost Stargate con. I had great fun making up the maps. So impressive, they were practically works of art. We'd still be running those cons if we hadn't got unlucky."
    "And greedy," said Hazel.
    "That too."
    "Things were simpler then. It was us versus them, and we only took money from those who could afford to lose it. Simple, innocent days. But we changed, moved on. We're not who we used to be. Our friends and allegiances have changed, and all we have in common now are our memories and Blood. And neither of them comfort me like they used to. Can we trust each other anymore, John?"
    "We have to," said Silver. "No one else would."

    "Owen would," said Hazel.
    Silver made himself look at her. "You know him better than I do. What's he really like, this Deathstalker?"
    "He's a good man, though he doesn't realize it. A hero. The real thing. Brave and dedicated and too damn honest for his own good. He'll end up leading this rebellion completely before he's through. Not because he wants to, but just because he's the best man for the job. He's a nice guy, but there's so much he doesn't understand. Like the pressures and responsibilities and insecurities that drive lesser people like you and me to Blood or drink or dumb relationships. He's never needed a crutch to lean on in his life. He just sees the right thing and goes for it, complaining all the while, fooling nobody. A good man, in bad times."
    "You love him, don't you?" said Silver.
    "I never said that," said Hazel.
    Silver knew what was needed. He made himself lean forward till their faces were only inches apart, and then he kissed her, and both of them knew it was good-bye. And that was when Owen Deathstalker entered the room and saw them together. He stopped just inside the doorway, saying nothing as Hazel and Silver broke apart and rose quickly to their feet. For a long moment, no one said anything. Hazel was breathing deeply, but her face wasn't flushed. Silver saw Owen's hand drop to the sword at his side, saw the coldness in Owen's eyes, and knew he was very close to death. Not because Owen was jealous, but because this was one too many secrets, one too many betrayals that had been kept from him.
    And then Owen's eyes went to the phial of Blood on the table, and everything changed. He knew what it was, and what it meant, and anger and a great weariness fought for space inside him.

    "So that's it," he said flatly. "No wonder our mental link's been so screwed up, with all that junk in your head. How long have you been taking it. Hazel?"
    "Long enough."
    "Where did you get it?"
    "From the Hadenmen city. Moon was very understanding." Hazel's voice wavered between defiance and a need for him