Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

couldn’t have just been ELFs. The possessing minds must have been uber-espers. Only they were old enough to remember his face. And now they knew he was back, and on Logres . . . Owen suddenly remembered the nun, and turned to smile at her.
    “Sorry about the unpleasantness, Sister. But sometimes you just have to take out the trash.”
    The nun dropped to her knees before him, wringing her hands together. “Oh, my lord Owen! My lord Deathstalker! You’ve come back to us! I never thought I’d live to see the day . . .”
    “Now, now,” said Owen, gently but firmly helping her to her feet again. “None of that, Sister. I was only ever a man, despite what Robert and Constance may have said. And I never was one for bowing and scraping. Here, take your parcel. Do you have far to go now?”
    “No, just round the corner . . . My lord! Are the dark times over? Have you come back to save us?”
    “Help is on its way,” said Owen. “But I’m . . . just visiting. I wanted to see this marvelous new city, before I left to stop the Terror. But you’d better get going, Sister. The ungodly know I’m here now, and they’re bound to send reinforcements. So, off you go. Nice to see the Sisters of Mercy are still around. Hop like a bunny, as Beatrice used to say.”
    He shooed the nun away, and then turned to face the running footsteps he heard approaching. It sounded like quite a crowd. Owen grinned. He could have just teleported away, but he didn’t want them going after the nun in his absence. And besides, after everything he’d been through recently, he really felt like killing a whole bunch of bad guys. The sword and the gun were happy familiar weights in his hands, and he actually laughed when he finally saw the army they’d sent against him. There had to be fifty men and more in the shouting mob charging down the street towards him. Most looked to be Church Militant or Pure Humanity, and a good dozen of them were possessed, ordering the others on. The uber-espers weren’t taking any chances with him. He could feel the controlling minds hovering over the mob like dark boiling clouds. Owen headed unhurriedly towards the mob. Let them come. Let them all come. He was going to teach these scum, and their master Finn, a lesson they would never forget.
    Owen shot the first man almost casually. The energy beam punched right through the soldier who was in the lead, and surged on to take out two more. Owen put the disrupter away and took a good grip on his sword. The balance wasn’t as good as he was used to, but he’d manage. There were only fifty of them. The first man to reach him came right at him with an ax in both hands, and mad glaring eyes, and Owen cut him down with a single vicious stroke. The man’s blood was still flying on the air as Owen hacked and cut his way into the howling mob. They broke around him like a wave crashing against a rock, and Owen’s sword rose and fell with cold, professional skill while his ancient Clan battle cry rang on the air: Shandrakor! Shandrakor!
    He hit the crowd like a thunderbolt, cutting through them with a strength and speed that even his old Boost could never have given him. They had every kind of weapon, and no thought in their heads but to kill, but he was the Deathstalker returned, and they never stood a chance. He cut them down like ripe corn, blood and offal falling to splash the street, and they never even came close to touching him. In the end, Owen stood alone in the street, surrounded by the piled up bodies of the dead and the dying. He bent over and looked down into a pair of fading eyes, searching for the controlling mind behind them.
    “I’m back,” he said. “And this time there will be no unfinished business.”
    He put away his sword, turned his back on the massacre, and strode off into the descending night. He was almost ready to do what he had to do. He’d really come back to the Parade of the Endless only to make his good-byes, and it didn’t seem there was much left he remembered to say good-bye to. Still, the last time he’d disappeared back into the past, he’d thought his life was over. That he’d done all he was supposed to do. That whatever happened, at least he’d be able to rest, at last. He’d been very tired, then. Now, he felt more alive than he ever had.
    Hazel, I lost you once. I won’t lose you again. I’m tempted to stay here, to help Lewis kick out Finn and his people, but you’re more important. I have to go back, as far