Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

were looking at a man touched by destiny. And now here he was, brought low at last, even if the Empire did have to use a whole army to do it. The last echoes of his despairing cry were dying away, a terrible, awful sound that had raised the hairs on the back of Toby's neck. It was the cry of some great beast, the last of its kind, driven and harried till it had nowhere else to run. It was also a savage promise of blood and devastation, the cry of a man with nothing left to lose. He lowered his head to stare steadily at the forces arrayed against him, and Toby's blood ran cold. The Deathstalker, one man soaked in his own blood, was suddenly the most dangerous and frightening thing he'd ever seen.
    It was like standing in the path of an oncoming hurricane, a great force of nature, grim and implacable. It was like looking into the eyes of a god, or a devil. Toby swallowed hard, but didn't budge. He was here to see a legend go down. Flynn stirred uncertainly at his side.
    "What is it?" said Toby, not looking away from the scene before him. "Don't tell me we're not getting this."
    "We're getting something," said Flynn quietly. "There's some kind of energy source present, interfering with my camera's systems. Damned if I know what it is. I've never seen anything like it before. But it appears to be centered around the Deathstalker."
    "Stuff your energy surges. Is the picture coming though clearly?"
    "Well yes, but…"
    "Then switch to live broadcast. The whole Empire's going to want to see this.
    Damn, we've hit it lucky. They'll be showing this footage for years."
    "I've got him," said Flynn. "The poor bastard."
    Trapped in a filthy back alley, surrounded by the dead and the dying, and facing
    an army of Imperial marines and a disrupter cannon, Owen Deathstalker looked unhurriedly about him. There was no way out, but he already knew that. It seemed Chance's espers had been right after all. They'd predicted he would die alone, in Mistport, far from friends and succor, with everything he believed in lost and destroyed. He just hadn't thought it would be so soon. Or that it would mean Hazel's death, too. He never had got round to telling her he loved her, and now he never would. He studied the men before him and hefted his sword. Blood dripped thickly from the blade. He had no intention of waiting for the cannon to finish recharging. One last act of defiance, one last swing of the sword, and at least he'd go out fighting, as a Deathstalker should. A few last seconds to get his breath, and savor the many strange ways his life had taken. It felt so good to be alive. But Hazel was dead, his cause was lost, and all that remained was to die well, and take as many of the bastards with him as he could. He smiled slowly at his enemies, a nasty, humorless, death's-head grin, and his sword seemed very light in his hand.
    And that was when he heard something moving behind him. He spun around, sword lifting, furious that they wouldn't at least do him the courtesy of facing him as they killed him, and then his jaw dropped as he saw Hazel d'Ark pull herself painfully through the hole in the rear wall. Her face was deathly white, and she was awash in her own blood, but her sword was still in her hand, and she had enough spark left in her to grin mockingly at Owen.
    "What's the matter, Deathstalker? You should know by now—I don't die that easily."
    She sat down with her back against the wall, trembling violently. Owen crouched beside her and took her hand in his. It was deathly cold. Blood had run thickly
    from her nose and mouth, and was still dripping from her chin. He could feel her presence in his mind, but it was dim and fading, like a guttering candle in a darkened room. Hazel leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes dropping half-shut, like a runner after a long race.
    "Hold my hand, Owen. I'm afraid of the dark."
    "I am holding it."
    "Then hold it up where I can see it. I can't feel it."
    Owen lifted their joined hands up before her face, and she smiled crookedly.
    "Never say die, Owen. There's always a way out, if you look for it hard enough."
    Owen smiled at her, pressing his lips tightly together so she wouldn't see them tremble. "I'm open for suggestions."
    Kast turned to Major Chevron. "Disrupter cannon recharged, sir."
    "Then what the hell are you waiting for, you idiot? Kill them! Kill them both!"
    Morgan hit the firing stud, and the ravening beam of energy tore into the square before it. Hazel's hand clamped down on