Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

face the most famous battle cry in Empire history. Many of the Neuman fanatics were ex-military, trained and experienced men, but still they felt a sudden chill seize their hearts as they remembered their opponent was a Paragon and a Champion and a Deathstalker. For a moment the shadow of the blessed Owen fell upon them, and they were on the brink of falling apart. And then their angry new faith reasserted itself as they remembered this was Lewis, not Owen. They stood their ground, took aim, and opened fire with their disrupters.
    Lewis had used the time of their confusion to build up some speed, and was almost upon them, Jesamine right behind him. Energy bolts seared past him, some ricocheting from his force shield, and then he hit the first ranks of the assassins like a hammer blow. He opened fire with his own gun at point-blank range, and the energy beam punched right through the chest of the man before him, and howled on to blow away two more men behind him. Lewis hacked viciously about him with his sword, and the assassins could not stand against him, falling dead and dying at his feet, unable to face the Deathstalker's rage and skill and experience. His gun recharged and fired again, killing more. He swung his sword, and used the razor-sharp edges of his force shield, and men bled and screamed and died, and still he cried Shandrakor! Shandrakor! like an angry voice out of legend.
    Jesamine stuck in close behind him, guarding his back with her sharp knives and the street-fighting skills of her youth that she'd never really forgotten. The Neuman assassins circled her and Lewis, looking startled and even frightened, and she laughed in their faces as she lashed out with her knives.
    But in the end there were just too many fanatics, and they slowly dueled Lewis to a halt, far short of the waiting starships. He was the better fighter by far, but they wore him down by sheer numbers. They didn't want to use their guns in such a close press of bodies, and in the end they didn't have to. Swords came flashing at Lewis from all directions, and his blade and his force shield couldn't be everywhere at once. They cut at him again and again, nothing serious as yet, but his blood fell. He gritted his teeth and
    wouldn't allow them the victory of a groan or a cry. He killed the men who came to kill him with casual, almost contemptuous skill, but not even a Paragon and a Champion and a Deathstalker could stand against so many. Because he was Lewis, and only a hero, not a legend.
    And then there was a sudden commotion from the far side of the battle, shouting and screaming and raw panic, as something hit the assassins hard from the other side. The assassins lost their focus as men flew through the air, without heads and trailing ripped-out intestines, as Saturday, the reptiloid from the planet Shard, tore through an army of foes with delighted ferocity. Eight feet tall and bulging with muscles under his bottle-green scales, designed by evolution to be his world's greatest killing machine, Saturday laughed aloud as he slaughtered everyone before him. Swords broke and shattered on his armored hide, and human blood ran thickly from his horrid jaws and dripped from his heavy clawed hands. He looked over the heads of the panicked assassins to Lewis and Jesamine.
    "There's a ship to your right; the Hereward. Get to her. Hatches are open and she's all set to go. Get aboard and power up. I'll join you, as soon as I've shown these Pure Humanity scumbags just what an alien can do, if he gets annoyed enough! Blood! Blood and souls for Shard! I'll show you little turds who's the true superior species around here!"
    He raged among the Neumen, tearing them apart and throwing the body pieces joyfully through the air.
    Most of the fanatics turned and ran. It didn't save them. Lewis and Jesamine left Saturday to it, and headed for the ship he'd indicated. It was a luxury racing yacht, all gleaming lines and bulging engines.
    Lewis hadn't a clue why the ship should be waiting for him, but he was tired and battered and bloody enough not to give a damn. He grinned shakily. A mere two battles against overwhelming odds in one day, and he was exhausted. Owen used to do this sort of thing just to warm up, according to the legends.
    Lewis was almost at the ship when he stumbled to a halt, as a new figure came forward to block his way. Lewis covered the newcomer with his gun as he studied him, trying to get his ragged breathing under control. Jesamine