Deathstalker Legacy

  "Paragons are like family," Douglas said easily. "We only ever really get together for weddings and funerals, and the like. Besides, my Coronation is going to be broadcast live to all the worlds in the Empire. Do you really think our noble brothers and sisters would turn down a chance to be seen by such a huge audience? Just think what it will do for their merchandising and licensing fees!"

  Lewis sniffed. "Now, you know what I think about that shit. I was working alongside Miracle Grant once, and he actually broke off in the middle of a battle to plug his new T-shirt to a news camera."

  "Oh yes, Grant… how are his new legs coming along?"

  "Growing back nicely, last I heard. Teach him to turn his back on a Son of the Wolf." Lewis looked about him, frowning. "I really don't like the idea of so many Paragons in one place. We'll be a sitting target for any really determined terrorist with a bomb."

  "Security here is top rank," Douglas said firmly. "Trust me on this, Lewis. You couldn't smuggle a dirty hanky in here without setting off some kind of alarm. In six hours' time, this Court will be the safest place to be in the whole Empire. And; it will do our fellow Paragons good to be among their own kind for once. Let them see they're not unique. Maybe even help some of them get their egos in perspective."

  Several very cutting comments occurred to Lewis, but he kept them to himself. He didn't want to upset Douglas on the eve of his Coronation. Lewis had already spent the best part of an hour testing the Court's security and had only had to raise his voice to half a dozen people and punch out one who really should have known better than to raise his voice to Lewis Deathstalker when he was so very clearly in the wrong. Lewis had also used the Council's security systems to run a trace on exactly where each and every Paragon was, just for his own peace of mind. Most were still in transit, on their way to Logres from the outlying worlds. Even with the new improved stardrive of the H-class ships, the Empire was still a very big place.

  All the Paragons were safe and secure. For now.

  Most Paragons rarely left the worlds they'd been assigned to, but all of them were familiar with Logres. All Paragons did a tour of duty there, early in their careers; it was expected of them. If you could handle everything Logres could throw at you, you could survive anything. Logres produced the finest of everything; including villains. No Paragon ever objected to a tour on Logres. It was an honor to defend Humanity's homeworld and a really good chance to get noticed by some of the main media networks. The better your recognition, the more you could charge to endorse products. (No Paragons ever defended their own home planet. No one ever actually mentioned the words conflict of interest, but then, some things just didn't need to be said out loud.) Lewis Deathstalker was something of a special case. He'd come to Logres from Virimonde and Stayed—even though Logres had its own Paragon in Finn Durandal—because Douglas had taken a liking to the earnest young man with the legendary name.

  So for ten years, Humanity's homeworld had been blessed with the presence of three Paragons, Douglas and Lewis and Finn, and as a result was the safest and most law-abiding place to live in the whole Empire. No one had actually raised the point of what might happen once Douglas retired to become King, but an awful lot of people were thinking about it. Not all of them very nice people.

  "You know, with so many Paragons already in the Parade of the Endless, and more on the way, crime in the city is at an all-time low," said Douglas. "Most of the bad guys are probably hiding under their beds, waiting for it all to be over."

  I guess everyone's following the buildup to the Ceremony," said Lewis. "Apparently the official website has already crashed three times from over-subscription."

  "I told them!" said Douglas. "I told them that would happen, but does anyone ever listen to me?" He grinned suddenly. "If nothing else, that should change come tomorrow. What's your website like these days, Lewis? Still got that fan of yours running it for you?"

  Lewis nodded stiffly. "He does a good job. I can't afford to have some big public relations firm come in and run it, like some of the guys do. I'd rather have someone doing it as a labor of love; someone who cares. And some of his graphics are quite sophisticated. For the budget. I log on anonymously now and again, just to keep him honest."

  "With your name you could be the biggest Paragon that ever was," said Douglas. "Even bigger than the Durandal."

  "You know how I feel about the cult of personality. If we start caring too much about being liked, being popular, it's bound to interfere with how we do our job."

  "You have to think about where the money's going to come from when you retire," Douglas insisted. "There is a pension, but it's crap. Everyone knows that. A few carefully thought out product endorsements, from the Deathstalker himself, and you'd never have to worry about money ever again."

  "I never worry about money," said Lewis. "I don't have a wife or children to support, and I never found the time to develop any expensive tastes. Besides, I always seem to have more important things to worry about."

  Douglas sighed and gave up. Some people wouldn't recognize common sense if you clubbed them over the head with it. "So," he said brightly. "What present did you bring me? It's Christmas and my Coronation, two special occasions in one, so I'm expecting something really special from you, Lewis. Best thing about being King; you get lots of pressies."

  "You're not King till you're crowned," Lewis said grimly. "Wait till it's all safely over and done with, and then you can start opening your presents. Probably mostly socks and handkerchiefs anyway. That's mostly what I get from my relatives these days. You know, when I was a kid, I would have been outraged to get an item of clothing as a Christmas present. Now, I'm grateful for something so practical. How sad is that?"

  "If I get socks, they'd better be jewel-encrusted," growled Douglas, and they both laughed quietly together. Douglas stopped laughing first, and fixed Lewis with a stern look. "I'm going to be King soon, Lewis, and I have a horrible feeling everything's going to change. Between us. This could be the last time we'll be able to speak to each other as equals. So tell me, as your friend: why did you want to become a Paragon? You don't give a damn for the fame, or the joys of combat, and we've already established it wasn't for the money. So why, Lewis? Why give your life to a job that kills most people before they hit thirty?"

  "To protect people," Lewis said simply. "The Deathstalker inheritance. A family duty; to protect the innocent from those who would prey upon them."

  He didn't mention Virimonde. He didn't have to. The homeworld of the Deathstalkers had been destroyed on the Empress Lionstone's orders. Wrecked and ruined, its people had been slaughtered, its cities and towns devastated, its green and pleasant lands trampled into mud and scorched to ashes. The new Empire had overseen its terraforming and repopulation, but Virimonde was a poor and grim place, and would be for centuries yet to come.

  The last of the old Deathstalker line, David, had died there, abandoned by his allies. No Paragon to save him in his hour of need.

  Like all Paragons, Lewis had taken an oath at his investiture to protect the innocent and avenge injustice. He had more reason than most to take that oath very seriously.

  "So; why are you a Paragon, Douglas?" said Lewis. "I know going in was your father's idea, but you've stayed on long after you could have retired with honor. At forty, you're the third oldest Paragon still serving. Why have you stayed so long? What's kept you in the Circle?"

  "I wanted to lead and inspire people by example," said Douglas. His voice was calm and clear and very sane. "I didn't win my place as a Paragon, like you and all the others. I had to prove myself. To you, and to the public. Everyone expected me to fail. To limp off home, crying to daddy that the game was too rough. I won't say I wasn't scared at first; people seemed to be lining up for a chance to kick the crap out of the heir to the Throne. But a funny thing happened. In proving myself, I found myself. When you're a King's son, growing up you get the best of everything by right. Nothing is denied you, so… nothing really matters. You only rea
lly value what you earn by your own efforts. And I earned my place in the Circle."

  "Is that why you've stayed so long?" said Lewis. "Because you had to keep proving to yourself that you were worthy? Douglas; no one has doubted that in twenty years."

  "Jesus, Lewis; do you really think I'm that shallow? I stayed because I finally found something I'm good at, and because people needed me. I was making a difference. I could see it every day, in the people I saved and the bad guys I put away. And because I made myself over into something better, I hoped to inspire others to do the same. I wanted to show them that we can all be heroes. We can all be Paragons."

  "If the people had the guts to stand up for themselves, they'd never have needed Paragons in the first place," said a calm, deep voice, and Douglas and Lewis looked round sharply as Logres's third Paragon came striding over to join them. Servants scattered like startled geese to get out of his way, but Finn Durandal didn't recognize their existence by so much as a blink of the eye. Finn nodded to Douglas and Lewis as he came to a halt before them and smiled briefly. "I became a Paragon to beat the shit out of bad guys, and I thank the Good Lord daily that there's never any shortage. Put a sword in my hand and point me at a scumbag, and there's nowhere I'd rather be."

  "Yes, but you're weird, Finn," Lewis said kindly.

  Finn Durandal was tall, lithely muscular, and almost inhumanly graceful in his movements. He had a classically handsome face, topped with a mop of curly golden hair that he freely admitted owed nothing to nature, and spent a lot of time thinking about his image. He had poise and elegance, and in any room everyone's eyes would go to him first. It was a cold, calculated charisma, but no less affecting for that. People tended to like Finn on sight but became more than a little uneasy the longer they spent in his presence. He could be devilishly charming, but unless it was a paid public engagement, mostly he just couldn't be bothered.

  At fifty-two Finn Durandal was the oldest, longest-serving Paragon since the Circle began. People felt safer all across the Empire knowing Finn was still out there standing between them and the bad guys. Of course, most of those people had never met him. Finn had a thin-lipped smile, calm gray eyes, and his holo hung on the bedroom wall of many an impressionable teenager. His website was the biggest and most heavily subscribed of all the Paragons, he had his own fan club, and a series of nicely calculated licensing deals had made him very rich. He could retire any time he wanted, but everyone knew he wouldn't. Action and adventure were his meat and drink, and he'd never been known to back away from any danger, any odds. He was the greatest Paragon there'd ever been.

  (It said so on his website, so it must be true.)

  He was the best at everything he did, because he wouldn't settle for anything less. It helped that he had the best weapons, the best trainers, and the best muscles and reflexes that money could buy. Finn left absolutely nothing to chance.

  "Immaculately turned out, as always, Finn," said Douglas. "I can practically see my face in your breastplate. Why can't you look more like him, Lewis?"

  "Because I can't afford a butler," said Lewis. "Hell, I'm lucky if I remember to shine my shoes in the morning."

  "You're just jealous of my magnificence," said Finn. "Puny mortal."

  "I prefer modesty," said Lewis.

  "And you have so much to be modest about," said Finn.

  "Girls, girls…" said Douglas.

  "Unfortunately," said Finn, "we don't have time for banter right now. I in sorry to snatch your associate away, Douglas, but I'm here on official Paragon business. We're needed, Lewis. An emergency has broken out at the Arenas."

  "Oh, wonderful," said Douglas. "Marvelous bloody timing. What is it; one of their imported killer aliens broken loose again? I told them they were asking for trouble, bringing those monsters in from Shandrakor."

  "The Arena's got tanglefields and sleepgas," said Lewis. "Let Arena security deal with it."

  "It's not that simple," said Finn. "It's the ELFs."

  "Oh shit" said Lewis. "I'll have to go, Douglas."

  "Of course you do," said Douglas. "Why now, of all times?"

  "I doubt it's a coincidence," Finn said calmly. "More likely they're looking to get in one last atrocity before the majority of the Circle arrive and the ELFs are forced to go underground with the rest of the rats. And perhaps; as a gesture to you, Douglas, to show you they're not impressed or intimidated by a Paragon becoming King."

  "For two pins, I'd go with you," said Douglas. "Hell, I'm still officially a Paragon till the Crown hits my head. Dammit, I am going with you! Come on; we'll teach the ELFs one last lesson they won't forget!"

  "You're not going anywhere!" snapped a cold, commanding voice, and all three Paragons looked sharply round, and then bowed formally as King William slowly descended the steps from the Throne. He nodded to Finn and Lewis and then glared at Douglas, who glared right back, his hands knotted into fists at his sides. William met his son's gaze steadily, and in the end, it was Douglas who looked away first.

  "I know," he said sourly. "More rehearsals. More ceremony and protocol."

  "You're not a Paragon anymore," King William said, not unkindly. "That part of your life is over. Let the Deathstalker and the Durandal handle it. They know what they're doing."

  "Don't worry, Douglas," said Finn. "It's only a bunch of ELFs, after all."

  He nodded briskly to Lewis, and the two of them strode quickly away, heading out of the Court and into danger and excitement, their backs straight and their heads held high. They were going out to face some of the most dangerous creatures currently threatening Humanity, to face horror and suffering and sudden death, but they didn't hesitate. They might have been going to a party, they were so casual about it. They were Paragons.

  And Douglas would have given everything he owned to be going with them.

  "Wipe that look off your face, young man," said King William. "You have greater responsibilities now. I do… understand the attraction. But you'll find that if you apply yourself, you can do far more for your people as King than you ever could as a Paragon. There's more to power over people's lives than the edge of a sword."

  "Yes, Father," said Douglas.

  King William sighed. "You always did have a way of agreeing with me that sounded just like Go to Hell. Got that from your mother. Speaking of which… we need to talk, Douglas. I'll admit I've been putting this off, searching for just the right moment, but I can't in good faith keep this from any longer."

  "You're not about to tell me I'm adopted, are you?"

  "No."

  "Or a clone?"

  "Shut up, Douglas. There is… a part of the Ceremony we haven't discussed yet. An extra announcement that will be made concerning a decision that has been made by myself and Parliament. A decision in which you don't get a say. It's unfair, bordering on arbitrary, but it comes with the job. I can only hope that you are, despite all my misgivings, mature enough to understand its necessity."

  "Father," Douglas said desperately, "stop wittering. What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You're going to be married. A marriage has been arranged for you."

  "What?"

  "A King must have a Queen," William said stubbornly, meeting his son's gaze steadily. "And since these are two of the most important jobs in the Empire, they can't be left to just anybody. To the vagaries of the heart. And so, a marriage has been arranged, by myself and a Parliamentary committee, between you and… a suitable person. This will be announced to the watching public, immediately after your Coronation. And you will nod and smile and go along with it, because you have no choice in the matter. Any more than I did."

  "You kept this quiet," said Douglas darkly. "Very bloody quiet."

  "And this is why," said William. "Because we all knew you'd have made a scene, given a chance. Discussions were held in strictest secrecy, because we knew you'd object. Or worse still, demand to be involved. I still remember that highly unfortunate affair you had with that… exotic dancer. Appalling creature
. Never did know what you saw in her."

  "She could put her ankles behind her ears…"

  "I don't want to know!" William had to stop a moment to regain his composure. "I knew this would happen. Your brother was just the same. Threw a hell of a tantrum when we sat him down and told him who his Queen was going to be."

  Douglas looked at his father sharply. Perfect James, throwing a temper tantrum? He would have liked to ask more, but the King was pressing on. "Since we couldn't afford to have you making trouble, it was decided that I would break the news to you, at the last possible moment. And this would appear to be it. I wish your mother was here; she was always so much better at these things than me. And don't even think about running; I've got security men standing by with tanglefields and cattle prods, just in case. Joke."

  "You'll pardon me if I don't laugh," said Douglas. "I can't believe you did all this behind my back. I always thought marriage was supposed to be the most important decision in a man's life."

  "In your case, it is," said William. "Far too important to be left to you. Royal marriages are affairs of State, not of the heart. Though it needn't stay that way. I learned to love your mother, eventually. I'm sure you'll come to love your Queen too, in time."

  "Are you at least going to tell me who it is?" said Douglas, so far into shock now he was practically numb. "Or is it going to be a surprise?"

  "Of course not, dear boy. You needn't look so disturbed. Nothing but the best for the man who will be King, after all. If I was only fifty years younger I'd chase her round the room a few times myself. The hunchback suits her. Joke! She's beautiful, intelligent, and she'll make a superb Queen. Your bride will be Jesamine Flowers. You have heard of her?"

  Douglas felt his jaw drop, and it took him several moments to get enough air back into his lungs to be able to answer. "Heard of her? Jesamine bloody Flowers? She's the most famous, the most talented diva in the whole damned Empire! And the single most glamorous woman in all the civilized worlds! Hell, Jesamine's already so popular she already is Queen, in everything but name. And this goddess has agreed to marry me?"