Deathstalker Legacy (4 page)

He’d only just hit his late twenties, but already there was about him a certain gravitas that made him seem older, wiser; more dangerous. He wore his Paragon’s armor sloppily, and there was always a buckle or two hanging loose somewhere, but he never looked one inch less than utterly professional. He had large, heavily knuckled hands that rarely strayed far from the weapons on his hips. He looked . . . competent. No matter where he was, no matter what the challenge, Lewis always looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. Douglas had always envied him that. He would have been surprised beyond measure to know that Lewis often felt much the same about him.

The two of them had been close friends and partners in arms for almost ten years now. Their record for running villains to ground was unmatched by any other Paragon except the legendary Finn Durandal, greatest of them all. The Deathstalker and the Campbell, knights errant and defenders of the realm. Lewis could have been famous, if he’d wanted. If he’d cared. But mostly he didn’t.
One famous Deathstalker in the family is enough,
was all he’d ever been known to say on the subject.

Lewis was the best kind of Paragon, which ironically tended to make him one of the least noticed. He couldn’t be bothered to play the publicity game, not when there was real work to be done. And whereas the other Paragons milked their fame for all it was worth, with an eye to providing for their future when they retired, Lewis would just nod to the the media when they turned up, smile politely when he remembered, and go looking for some more trouble to clean up. He was admired but not adored, renowned but not famous, and the man every Paragon wanted guarding his back when things got nasty. That this most unprepossessing of Paragons should have ended up closest to the man who would be King both infuriated and charmed the other Paragons, in equal measure.

The Inner Circle of Paragons was the King’s Justice. Each world in the Empire sent its greatest hero, its most deadly warrior, to Logres, to become part of the fabled Circle, part of the glorious legend of the Paragons. The King couldn’t be everywhere, but his Justice could. When the law wasn’t enough, when peace enforcement failed, whenever men of bad intent threatened to triumph; send for a Paragon. The public couldn’t get enough of these heroic men and women, the brightest and the best the civilized worlds had to offer, and each and every Paragon would fight to the death rather than betray that honor and that trust.

They didn’t last long, as a rule. Most tended to retire young. In fact, it was rare to find a Paragon over thirty. It was a dangerous business, after all, with a high fatality rate and a high turnover. Even the brightest of heroes could burn out quickly, from the endless danger, the never-ending work, and the constant pressure. With all eyes forever on them, the Paragons couldn’t allow themselves to be any less than perfect.

But in their time they were splendid and magnificent, the greatest fighting men and women of their Age.

“They’re all coming here?” said Lewis. “
All
of us? Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more than half a dozen in one place, and that was during the Quantum Inferno affair, when it looked like we were going to lose all six of the Heart Suns.”

“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 oversubscription.”

“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 re-population, 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 really 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.