Heroes Die
Matthew Woodring Stover
Language: English
Pages: 560
ISBN: 0345421450
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Renowned throughout the land of Ankhana as the Blade of Tyshalle, Caine has killed his share of monarchs and commoners, villains and heroes. He is relentless, unstoppable, simply the best there is at what he does.
At home on Earth, Caine is Hari Michaelson, a superstar whose adventures in Ankhana command an audience of billions. Yet he is shackled by a rigid caste society, bound to ignore the grim fact that he kills men on a far-off world for the entertainment of his own planet--and bound to keep his rage in check.
But now Michaelson has crossed the line. His estranged wife, Pallas Rill, has mysteriously disappeared in the slums of Ankhana. To save her, he must confront the greatest challenge of his life: a lethal game of cat and mouse with the most treacherous rulers of two worlds . . .
was beginning to believe that the Board of Governors might have been right about Caine all along: the man might be actively dangerous. He was certainly behaving very strangely, taking unaccustomed risks, foolish chances, being uncharacteristically reluctant to exercise his primary talent—killing people—and now, leaking backstage orders to the public! Kollberg’s fist had come very close to stroking the recall there, very close indeed; the last thing he wanted half a million first-handers to take
counter. Looking at this like a fight gave him confidence. He knew that every solution Ma’elKoth offered was only a parry, a block, and like their combat equivalents these parries and blocks created other openings through which he could strike. An all-out military assault on the Kingdom of Cant would certainly succeed; Caine had to ensure it wouldn’t be attempted, at least not yet. “You can’t catch the King with the army,” he said. “The Subjects of Cant are masters of the caverns under the
Kollberg had made Caine, had managed his career with the sort of personal attention that most men reserve for their sons. Anyplace on Overworld where a situation was reported that would make a thrilling backdrop for a Caine story, Caine went. Kollberg had even sent him to places where other Actors were at work—even when it meant dropping him into their story lines and having him take them over. Kollberg had been criticized for this favoritism, and he’d been criticized for pandering to the public,
gift,” she replied, a little stronger now, “from Prince-Regent Toa-Phelathon.” “I know. Says so right on the side, here.” He touched the flame to the wick of a lamp on a small side table, then turned the lamp down to a bloody emberous glow. “We both know what happened to him, don’t we?” He pinched the lighter’s wick between his thumb and forefinger, and the flame extinguished with a fading hiss. She had never given a lot of credence to the rumors that Caine had been involved in Toa-Phelathon’s
one way, then another, then his stance shifted and Caine’s breath left him. The Emperor began, incredibly, to dance. To only the spare, resonant music of his own voice, Ma’elKoth danced: a slow and powerful eurythmy of impossible grace, moving with the invincible elegance of a kabuki demon. Caine knew enough of magick to have a fair notion of what was going on; with effort he tore his eyes away from Ma’elKoth. He was able to do so, he guessed, only because the ritual was directed not at him,