Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

Lewis. "Or about the origins of the Terror?"
    "Don't call him that," said Chevron. "He was just a good man, who did his best in bad times. He never wanted to be a hero, poor bastard. Perhaps because he always knew most heroes die young. As for the Dust Plains ... you'll be surprised what they know. But in the end . . . you have to go to Haden, Lewis.
    To the Madness Maze. All the answers to all the questions of your life are waiting for you there. You have to pass through the Maze, Deathstalker. It is your destiny."
    "No!" Jesamine said immediately. "You can't, Lewis! The Maze kills people and drives them crazy!"
    "Sometimes," said Chevron. "No one knows exactly what the Maze is. It's supposed to be of alien
    origin; perhaps its nature is just too alien for most humans to comprehend or cope with. But still; this is something you have to do, Lewis."
    "He's right," Lewis said gently to Jesamine. "Too many people want me dead. I can't survive as I am.
    And I have to go through the Maze, to prove myself; to the Empire, and to myself. It's part of being a Deathstalker."
    Jesamine looked back at Chevron. "It's easy to send other people off to die, for what you believe in.
    Will you be coming with us, to Haden?"
    "I can't. Not just yet. Maybe later. There are things I need to do here first. I should have known just changing the name from Golgotha to Logres wouldn't be enough to wipe the slate clean. This world and its people have always been rotten at the heart. I believed in a new beginning because . . . well, because I wanted to. But now; I have to find out how deep the rot goes. I have watched over the homeworld of the Empire for longer than you can imagine. They said it was a Golden Age, and I was so tired I believed it, and retired. I should have known better. I, of all people."
    "Enough," said Vaughn. "Enough, old friend."
    Lewis was ready to hit both of them with a whole bunch of probing questions when they all heard the sound of approaching running feet. Lots of them. Lewis just had time to step forward and put himself between Jesamine and whatever was coming, and then a small army of heavily armed guards came crashing into the corridor. Energy bolts criss-crossed on the air as everyone opened fire, and then the two forces slammed together, and everyone was fighting. Once again, close quarters meant cold steel and hot blood. Lewis stood his ground, and hacked about him with his sword, cutting down any man foolish enough to come within reach, while Jesamine guarded his back with a short sword she'd taken off a nearby body on the floor. Vaughn had no weapon, or at least nothing obvious, but somehow everyone who threatened him died. Sometimes they killed themselves with looks of horror on their faces.
    And Samuel Chevron, or whoever he really was . . . was a revelation.
    He moved like a man half his age or less, wielding his long and brutal sword as though it was weightless, shearing through necks and limbs alike. He moved through the crush of fighting men impossibly quickly, and no one could stand against him. He was faster and stronger than any man had a right to be, and guards fell dead and dying at his feet with appalling speed and ease. His sword rose and fell, and he wasn't even breathing hard. Lewis was a practiced fighter, a warrior in his own right, but he was nothing compared to Chevron. Lewis watched Chevron butcher the guards, and felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
    Soon enough none of the guards would go up against Chevron, and some turned and ran rather than face him. That was all the excuse the other guards needed, and in a matter of moments it was a rout, and they were all running. All except one. A woman who would never run. A latecomer, a Paragon. Emma Steel. She stood alone in the corridor, surrounded by the dead, her sword held steadily out before her, looking from Lewis to Chevron and back again.
    "Don't do this, Emma," Lewis said finally. "Things aren't as they seem. I'm no traitor. You know this isn't right."
    "You've killed good men. And you're here. With her," said Emma, not lowering her sword an inch.
    "We love each other. But that shouldn't be enough to condemn us to death, without even a trial. Come
    on, Emma; the stuff they found in my computers was bullshit. I've served the Empire all my life, but now it seems I can only serve it by opposing it. Or at least, by opposing some of the people running it. Let us go, Emma. We don't have to fight. That's what they want. Let us