Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

we come to Part Two of the bad news. According to the very
    exact coordinates supplied by my father, we should be standing right on top of it. But if it is here, I can't see any sign of it. Still, not to worry, it's always possible the data became corrupted, down the years."
    "Oh, great," said Brett. "As if things weren't bad enough; we're lost too."
    "Perhaps someone didn't trust your branch of the family enough to provide you with the true coordinates," said Rose.
    "That's possible, yes," Lewis said easily. "But the truth is that no one actually saw where the Standing went down. All the people on board had been evacuated long before Jenny Psycho steered the castle into this planet's atmosphere. And she bailed out long before it hit. The exact landing site could only ever have been estimated. I understand there were plans once to come here and recover the castle, so it could be repaired and restored. There was a lot of public sentiment about the Standing, since it had played such a vital part in the last great battle. But my Clan insisted it should be left where it fell; returned at last to where the blessed Owen originally found it. Nobody made too much fuss. In fact, reading between the lines I get the impression Robert andConstance were glad to see the back of it. Partly because they wanted to make it into legend rather than history, and partly because it made them very nervous. The old Standing was said to be full of secrets that even Owen didn't know about. Very old, very powerful secrets."
    "Are we talking treasure here?" said Brett. "As in, unknown tech, long-lost weapons, and the loot of ages—that sort of thing?"
    "Yes, I thought that would perk you up," said Lewis. "It's possible, Brett, but even so I don't want you touching anything without checking with me first. Is that clear? According to family legend the Standing is absolutely packed with unpleasant surprises for the unwary."
    "This just gets better and better, doesn't it?" Jesamine said to no one in particular. "Do we at least have a direction to head in, Lewis?"
    "Oh sure. Oz detected faint but definite traces of a very unusual energy signature as we were coming in to land. Maybe two miles from here as the crow flies… that way."
    "Oh, great," said Brett. "More walking."
    "More fighting," said Saturday happily. "Two whole miles of assorted monsters. Just as well, I was starting to feel distinctly peckish."
    Brett appealed to Lewis. "Can I just make the suggestion that when it's time to get the hell off this planet, we leave the big guy behind? He said himself he felt at home here."
    "Let's make a start," said Lewis, not unsympathetically. "We've a lot of ground to cover, and you can bet these creatures are going to make us fight for every inch of it."
    Brett sniffed. "We should have brought more grenades. I said we were going to need more grenades, but no one ever listens to me…"
    "Shut up, Brett," said Jesamine.
    They headed for the edge of the clearing, Lewis and Rose taking the point. Their personal force shields buzzed loudly in the quiet. Brett and Jesamine stuck in close behind them, while Saturday brought up the
    rear, to guard the party's back. He'd wanted to take the point, but Lewis said he thought it should be someone who was more interested in strategy than dinner, and Saturday said he quite understood. There were restless movements in the trees ahead of them, huge shapes glimpsed briefly between the shadows, and the sound of heavy bodies crushing undergrowth. The whole jungle seemed expectant, anticipating blood and slaughter. Lewis gripped his sword fiercely. This wasn't going to be like fighting terrorists or assassins back on Logres. This was going to be butchery, plain and simple; men against monsters until one side or the other was no longer a threat. The monsters had size and numbers and animal ferocity. He had training, cold steel and an energy weapon. And he was a Deathstalker. That still counted for something.
    His party had to pick its way past dozens of piled-up corpses as they crossed the clearing. The Hereward's weapons had done good work. The dead creatures varied in size from a few feet long to some specimens almost as big as the ship itself. Most of them were unpleasant or disturbing to look upon. There was every combination of fur and scale and exoskeleton, with misshapen heads and oversized limbs, and more and bigger claws and teeth than evolution would normally supply. These monstrosities had been designed to be