Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

crack of rending bricks and mortar, and the whole damned stack went over the side of the roof, taking Cat with it.
    He twisted automatically as he fell, already grabbing for handholds. He had a brief glimpse of shocked upturned faces from the disrupter gun crew, and then they disappeared as the great mass of brickwork slammed down on them like a hammer. Cat's flailing hand caught a wooden shutter as he fell past it, and he took a firm hold. For a moment his whole weight was hanging by that one hand, but then the momentum of his fall swung him around and it was the easiest thing in the world to fly through the open window and into the room beyond. He hit the floor rolling, and finally crashed up against the far wall, where he stayed for a while, till he got his breath back. As his heart finally slowed back to something that could pass for normal. Cat decided it was very definitely time he was getting back to the Blackthorn, and safety. He didn't want Cyder getting worried about him.
    Out in the streets of Mistport, old hatreds and divisions were forgotten as the rebels came together to fight a common enemy. Old and bitter foes fought side by side, and sworn enemies guarded each other's backs. It seemed everyone who could walk and wield a weapon was out in the streets now, fighting to defend a city whose importance they hadn't realized till it looked to be taken from them. Even Owen's foes from the old Deathstalker network had turned out to do their bit.

    They were businessmen, not warriors, but they hadn't got where they were without guts and determination. And perhaps, deep inside, they remembered the idealistic young men they had once been, and old beliefs and convictions stirred in them again.
    Neeson the banker and Robbins the landlord fought side by side, swords flashing as old skills came back to them. Stacey the lawyer had an elegant rapier, and Connelly and McGowan of the docks cut a bloody path through the enemy with an ax in each hand. They all fought bravely and well, and were surprisingly effective for middle-aged men who'd grown soft in comfortable positions.
    "Damn, this feels good," Neeson said to Robbins during a lull in the fighting.
    "Takes me back to our young days, when we were going to change the world and overthrow the Empire. And all before lunch."
    Robbins laughed. "Happy days. Simpler days, anyway. I was getting bored with being a businessman anyway."
    The Blackthorn Inn was a blazing wreck, its upper floor an inferno, its roof gone, swept away by the fire and smoke belching up into the night sky. Three gravity barges hovered overhead, disrupter beams hammering down. Flames licked along the outer walls, and great cracks appeared in the brickwork. Inside, there was smoke and chaos and panic. Jenny Psycho stood in the center of the room, arms outstretched like a crucifix, her mental energies the only thing holding off the deadly disrupter beams. Blood trickled steadily from her nose and ears and mouth. Under the blood her face was deathly pale and her wild eyes were fixed on something far away. She was dying, and everyone knew it. She was the only thing protecting the Blackthorn, and it was killing her inch by inch.
    Donald Royal had organized people into groups with buckets of water and blankets, ready to stamp out any fires that started in the barroom. The old man
    had been revitalized by the emergency, and was bustling around like a man half his age. Councillor McVey had gathered Chance's children into a small group, away from the walls. Madelaine Skye, Royal's partner, stood in the doorway with a disrupter in her hand. Empire troops had already blown the door off its hinges, and tried throwing grenades through the gap. Skye had seen the first one, thrown it straight back out, and taken up her position by the door to discourage anyone else with the same idea. Outside, on the other side of the street, a large group of Imperial marines were patiently watching the doorway, ready to deal with anyone who came out of it. No one was interested in taking any prisoners from the Blackthorn.
    Behind the bar, Cyder was getting very drunk. Her tavern was a wreck, she was trapped in a burning building, and Cat was nowhere to be seen. She hoped he was somewhere safe, but doubted it. He should have been back long ago. Probably got involved in the fighting. She'd told him and told him, never get involved… She poured herself another drink.
    "Don't you think you've had enough?" said Donald Royal.
    "Hell no,"