Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

moment, and then eased it open. He peered around the door, but no one was about. Presumably Finn's people were busy guarding the more obvious ways into House Campbell.Douglas shut the door quietly behind him, and then set off through the familiar halls and corridors. Everywhere was a mess. Broken furniture, slashed portraits on the walls, along with crude graffiti. Food and drink had been ground into the carpets, along with urine, and everywhere there were scattered pieces of treasured heirlooms—broken just because they could be. The guards, marking their territory.Douglas seethed with silent anger. Another score to settle with Finn and his people.
    He drifted through the old House like a silent ghost, easily avoiding the few guards that showed themselves. They didn't look like they were expecting trouble.Douglas finally found his father in what had been an abandoned storeroom. He almost missed him, but was alerted by a door that was locked when there was no obvious reason why it should be.Douglas used his old Paragons skeleton key to open the door, and found his father William lying on a bare mattress on the floor. His clothes were a mess, his face was emaciated and unnaturally pale, and he wasn't moving. He wasn't manacled or chained, andDouglas
    's heart thudded painfully fast as he thought for a moment his father was dead. But then he saw William's chest move ever so slightly, and he hurried forwards to kneel at his father's side. Up close, he could see bruises and dried blood on the old man's face.Douglas swore under his breath as he checked for a pulse in his father's neck. It was there, but only just. A small bottle of pills on a tray next to the mattress provided the answer to William's condition. The old King had been drugged to the gills, to keep him from making any trouble.
    Douglasshook William's shoulder hard, and called his name as loudly as he dared. There was no response, andDouglas tried again.
    He should have anticipated this. He should have brought… something, to help. William's eyes flickered slowly open, and focused onDouglas . He smiled slowly, tried to lift his hand, and couldn't.Douglas took the withered hand in both of his and clasped it firmly.
    "Hold on, Dad. I'll get you out of here."
    "Took you long enough, son." William's voice was little more than a whisper. "The food's terrible here.
    And the service is appalling."
    "Yeah, well, I've been busy. Come on, time to go. Let's try not to attract anyone's attention; I didn't bring any money for a tip."
    He hauled William to his feet by main strength. The old man hardly weighed anything.Douglas half led
    and half carried his father out the door, looked out, and then set off back through the House to the trapdoor in the cellar. His father was so weak he could hardly help at all, but right thenDouglas was so angry he felt he could have carried his father forever. He was only halfway there when a guard stepped unexpectedly out of a doorway. He opened his mouth to yell, andDouglas shot him. The guard fell dead to the floor, but the sound of a disrupter firing brought more guards running.Douglas cursed briefly. He'd had to put his sword away to carry his father. He set off for the wine cellar again, but he could hear running footsteps behind him.Douglas set his father down with his back against a wall, drew his sword, and turned to face his enemies.
    A whole crowd of guards came charging round the corner, only to slow and stumble to a halt as they sawDouglas waiting for them. Something in his face and in his eyes gave them pause, for all their superior numbers. This was King Douglas, once Paragon of Logres, one of the most famous fighting men of his time.Douglas laughed harshly—a brief, dangerous sound—and then he threw himself at the guards. Up close energy guns were useless, so it all came down to steel. The rage that burned inDouglas drove him like a whip, his sword flashing in short, bloody arcs. He cut his way through the guards as though they were unarmed, and the few cuts he took he didn't feel at all. A dozen men fell screaming before him, before the remainder just turned and fled. They weren't being paid enough to take on Douglas Campbell.
    He stood for a moment, savoring the sight of dead enemies as he got his breathing back under control. It was always possible that the guards had been good men, just doing their job, butDouglas didn't care. Just being here made them guilty. He could have killed a hundred of them, for what had