Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

around him, stabbing down at him again and again, and only their uncertain footing gave Owen the time he needed to scrabble to his feet.
    He shot a Hadenmen through the chest at point-blank range, and the others fell back. Owen grabbed for the knife he kept in his boot, cursing and blaspheming as he looked frantically about for his lost sword.
    And then he looked up just in time to see the blunt end of the great wooden battering ram coming straight at him. Four of the Hadenmen had broken away from him to pick it up, servomotors straining loudly, and they surged forward, driving themselves and their burden through the mud and rain by sheer determination. Owen just had time to see his death coming, and then the huge end of the tree trunk hit him squarely and slammed him back against the immovable main gate.
    For a moment it was like a dream. The end of the tree blotted out the light, as though night had fallen especially for him. Then he was hit hard from the front, and from behind a moment later, and it felt like the whole world was pressing down on him. He could feel his entire body, his bones and his organs, actually flattening under the impact, before things began breaking. And then pain hit him, and it wasn’t like a dream at all.
    His ribs cracked and gave way under the impact, collapsing inward to spear his lungs and heart. His organs were crushed and flattened. A river of blood spurted out his mouth and anus. The tree trunk swung back, but Owen stayed where he was, stuck to the main gate by his own blood. Light filled his eyes again. There was more blood, from his nose and ears and eyes. The pain was unbelievable, so bad he couldn’t even think through it, trapped in the agony of that moment like a fly trapped in amber. His punctured lungs trembled in his chest, unable to draw breath in or push it out. His arms and legs were broken, white shards of bone protruding through the bloody flesh, and his face was smashed to a pulp.
    He slid slowly, helplessly, down the gate, leaving a thick trail of dark blood behind him on the wood,
    which had actually cracked and splintered under the force of the impact.
    Owen lay still in the mud, not breathing, barely thinking, his heart beating out its last sporadic movements in his crushed chest. He never heard Hazel scream with horror and rage, never saw her fall upon the Hadenmen and kill them all. He lay in the mud, the rain slowly washing the blood from his ruined face, and thought, Such a stupid way to die. So many things still left to do. And then he thought, No. I won’t die. I refuse to die. Not here, now, when I’m still needed. He reached inside himself, deep down into the undermind, the back brain, that still mysterious part of his mind where his power lay, and he pulled it forth by the brute force of his will, whether it wanted to come or not. He hauled it up out of the dark place where he couldn’t see, and thrust it into his broken, dying body. Healing energies crackled through him, and he wanted to scream at the new pain as his splintered bones slowly knitted themselves together again, but it wasn’t until his lungs healed and reinflated that he could manage even the smallest of whimpers. His heart healed itself in a moment, beating strong and hard. Bones became strong, organs sound, and it all hurt like the pits of Hell. And then the power retreated back into the depths of his mind, leaving Owen lying there in the mud, soaked in his own blood and weak as a kitten, but brought back from the brink of death by his own refusal to be beaten by anything, even the weakness of his own body.
    Well, he thought finally. There’s another thing I didn’t know I could do. Hazel dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes wide at the sight of so much blood soaking him. “Lie still, Owen. I’ll get help.” Her voice was unsteady with barely held-back tears. “Don’t die. Don’t you dare die on me, Owen! I won’t stand for it.”
    “Easy, love,” said Owen, his voice little more than a whisper. “I’m all right.
    Healed myself. Help me back on my feet.”
    Hazel checked his chest first with experienced probing fingers, and then hauled him up onto his feet.
    “Hell’s teeth, Owen. When I saw that bloody tree slam into you, I thought I’d lost you for sure. Can anything kill us anymore?” Owen smiled grimly. “Oh, I think a direct energy shot to the head would probably do it. Or a stake through the heart. But we’re getting tougher all the time. Now help me