Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

with generations of the Campbell dead, right in the heart of the Parade of the Endless. Some even called for James to have a special place in the Cathedral. But William and Niamh said no. He was their son, so they brought him home, so he could sleep in a familiar place.
    Douglas looked about him. It was a nice location, calm and peaceful, on the side of a gently sloping hill looking out over the placid waters of an artificial lake. For a while visitors were allowed, as long as they made a donation to charity, but eventually William and Niamh put a stop to that, when the visiting crowds threatened to turn his grave into a shrine. The ever-burning flame was enough. He was their son. He belonged to them, and no one else. Niamh was buried there now, sleeping beside her son, as she'd wanted. When the time came William would join them, and Douglas thought that perhaps he would like to rest here as well. He'd seen the old Clan Campbell mausoleum, where Crawford and Finlay and all the other great names of the Family had been interred, and the grim cold sepulchre had struck Douglas as a cold and joyless place to spend eternity. Robert and Constance had changed that tradition, as they'd changed so many others. They'd left strict instructions for their bodies to be cremated, and the ashes scattered over the gardens. They might have turned people they'd known into legends, but they had no wish to be revered or venerated themselves. Douglas liked to think that a few last particles of his grandfather and grandmother were still blowing about the gardens. When he was younger, he'd run around taking great deep breaths, hoping to breathe some of them in, so that he would be great too.
    (William and Niamh had explained duty and destiny to him by then, and he'd understood just enough to feel distinctly scared and unworthy.)
    "Are you going to stand there brooding all day, son?" William said dryly. "I was under the impression you'd come all this way to talk to me. The word urgent was used quite a lot, as I recall."
    "Sorry, Dad," said Douglas. "I've had a lot on my mind just recently."
    William snorted. "I can imagine. Which of your many appalling problems brings you home this time?"
    Douglas looked at his father. The old man actually looked better for having retired. Not nearly so fragile, he was standing straighter, and his eyes seemed sharp and alert. He was wearing old comfortable clothes, crumpled and grubby, of the kind Niamh would never have let him get away with.
    "You tried to warn me, about being King," Douglas said heavily. "And as usual, I didn't listen. I don't feel up to the job, Father."
    "No one ever does," William said gruffly. "I spent most of my reign convinced that any day now the House would wake up and realize I wasn't anything like the King my father was, and would demand I give up my Crown so they could give it to someone better qualified. You're doing well enough, son. I keep up with the news. The Neuman riot was a mess, but you did well to take out so many ELFs at the Parade of the Paragons." He paused, and fixed Douglas with a stern gaze. "Though I have to say, I'm still wondering just what you had to promise the oversoul, in return for their help in suppressing the Neuman rioters. The espers never do anything for free."
    "They didn't ask for anything specific," said Douglas. "Just asked for my ... good will. I allowed them to be involved in taking down the ELFs at the Parade. Whether that'll be enough, we'll just have to wait and see ... Dad; we need to talk about the Terror."
    William sighed and turned away, and looked out over the gardens. "It's very peaceful here. Far away
    from all the troubles of the world. I'm glad you're King now, Douglas, and not me. I wouldn't know what to do. Probably just sit on my Throne and dither, hoping someone else would come up with a plan.
    Whatever you decide to do, it's bound to be better than anything I could suggest." He turned back to face Douglas. "You have to have faith in your judgement. I do. I raised you to be a warrior, boy, and you have never disappointed me. You're doing a good job, Douglas. You are every inch the King your mother and I always hoped you'd be."
    Douglas was touched. He put out his hands to his father, and William held them tightly. And after that, Douglas couldn't bring himself to discuss his other problem, Jesamine and Lewis, the real reason he'd come all this way. It would have seemed so ... petty. So Douglas walked with his father through the