Deathstalker Destiny (58 page)

“I love you,” said Owen. “And I always will. I’ll never forget you as long as I live.”

“I’ll never forget you,” said Hazel. “Not even if I live forever.”

Owen waited a moment, but Hazel had nothing more to say. Owen understood. He smiled one last time, kissed her gently on the lips, and moved quickly away. He looked over at the Madness Maze.

“I’m ready.”

He heard a puff of disturbed air behind him, as Hazel was teleported up to the new
Sunstrider,
and the air rushed in to fill the vacuum where she’d been. He never expected to see her again. But of course, he did.

 

Hazel materialized on the bridge of the
Sunstrider,
and looked quickly around her. Her heart missed a beat as she saw that the bridge was now exactly what she’d seen in her dream; the old familiar setting from
Sunstrider II.
She moved quickly forward to check out the expanded control panels, and found the transformed ship now boasted more weapons and fire control systems than an E class starcruiser. And one hell of a set of defensive shields. Presumably the Maze felt she’d need them.

She activated the main viewscreen. They were still there. The Recreated, clustering around the Wolfing World like rats round a dying man. She could almost feel waves of hate and rage coming from them. Hazel snarled at the screen. She stood between them and the Deathstalker, guarding his back as always, and that was all that mattered. She’d faced impossible odds before, and somehow survived. Perhaps that had all been training, for her to be at this place, at this time, and not be intimidated.

To stand at the mouth of the pass, denying the Enemy entrance; to be the guard at the gate for all Humanity.

She just wished she didn’t have to do it alone.

And then she noticed a flash of light at the edge of the screen, and knew immediately what it was. The Dauntless. Silence’s legendary ship, that had never lost a battle. She wasn’t alone after all. Hazel laughed aloud, and turned her attention to the weapons console. Everything was linked through a single fire control panel, so she could operate it all herself. Outside, in the endless night of the Darkvoid, she could feel more and more of the Recreated becoming aware of her, slowly realizing that she stood between them and their prey. Huge eyes turned in her direction. Mile-long tentacles reached across space. Vast ships orientated on the
Sunstrider.
Hazel whooped once with savage joy, meshed her mind with the fire controls, and opened up with everything she had.

 

Owen walked back into the Madness Maze, and it felt like coming home. He strode quickly between the shining, shimmering walls, guided by instinct as much as memory. He didn’t normally remember much about his first trip through the Maze, and now he knew why. It was simply too intense, too overwhelming an experience for the mind to tolerate for long. It had to be forgotten, for the mind to be able to cope with everyday things. He slowed his pace, not hurrying anymore, for Time moved differently in the Maze. A second and a year were the same thing, here. He glanced back, once, and wasn’t surprised to find Silence and Carrion weren’t with him anymore, though they’d all entered the Maze together. They had their own ways to go, their own destinations, their own destinies to follow.

Owen drifted through the shining passageways, summoned by a voice he almost recognized. It was bitter cold in the Maze, but he had been tempered in fires too harsh for mere temperatures to ever really bother him again. Static sparked on the air here and there, falling like ionized snowflakes, crawling up and down the shining walls. Owen thought he could hear breathing, slow and steady and gigantic, gusting around him. Underneath his feet he could feel a slow, rhythmic tremor, like the beating of a massive heart far below. He felt watched, known, cared for. Not for the first time, Owen wondered if the Madness Maze was actually alive; some form of existence far beyond anything he could hope to recognize or understand.

Smells and scents came and went around him. Harsh vinegar and burning leaves. Oiled metal, and old lemon, sharp on his tongue. Rich earth and mulch, and the aroma of green growing things; a memory of lost Virimonde. There was a chattering of metal birds, and a baby crying, and the tolling of a cracked iron bell in a church at midnight. It felt like Christmas, the world calm and quiet under a blessing of snow. Owen threaded his way through the Maze, heading always toward the center, and all the answers to all the questions of his life.

 

Silence and Carrion walked together, bound together by memories only they could share and understand. There was a time they’d tried to kill each other, over things they believed in and could not back down from, but that was over now. They had a common enemy and a common cause, and besides, they were friends, and always had been, even when they hated each other. Life’s like that, sometimes.

Silence hadn’t traveled far into the Maze, that first time, and mostly what he remembered was his men dying around him in horrid ways. Now he could see the wonder and beauty of the place, the calm alien splendor of it all. He felt relaxed, welcomed; he was meant to be here, this time.

It was Carrion’s first time in the Maze, but he had the strangest feeling he’d been there before. There was something in the Maze that reminded him strongly of the time he’d spent on Unseeli, communing with the gentle spirits of the forest, the metallic trees and the Ashrai. He felt almost as though he’d returned there, to when the planet was still alive, and so was he.

Silence and Carrion stopped suddenly, in a corridor no different than any other, and looked slowly around them, as though waking from a dream. A voice that was not a voice, but so much more, had sounded in their thoughts, and they knew they’d gone as far as they were going. The heart, and the hidden mysteries of the Maze, were not for them, this time. Theirs was a different destiny.

“I feel almost insulted,” said Carrion. “Owen gets all the answers, and we don’t? Where do I go to complain?”

“I don’t think I want to see their complaints department,” said Silence. “And I don’t think I ever really wanted to know the answers to everything. I mean; what would you do, afterwards?”

“You always did think small, John. So; why did we come here? We were summoned. We both felt it. We’re supposed to be here.”

“Hush,” said Silence. “Can you hear something? Something like... wings?”

Slowly, they looked up, moved by something very like awe and wonder, and there high above them were the Ashrai. Not ghosts this time, but alive and vital and very much material again. Reborn, revitalized, brought back into the living world by the power of the Maze. They were still pretty damned ugly to human eyes, with gargoyle faces and huge batwings, sharp teeth and claws and fierce, glaring eyes. More dragons than angels. But the threat and menace of their usual visitations were gone, this time. They were singing, alien voices raised in joy, and glory, and laughter.

They flew in a bright blue cloudless sky that seemed to go on forever, soaring and plunging and gliding on never-ending winds. Carrion watched them with tears in his eyes. He’d forgotten how graceful they could be. He’d lived with their angry ghosts for so long that he’d forgotten the joy and wonder of their lives. Silence’s eyes burned with tears too, for having murdered such amazing creatures. And then the Ashrai spoke as one, and Silence and Carrion heard their words in their heads like the voices of angels. Not gargoyles at all.

We have a link to the Maze. An old link. Our ancestors knew the Maze, long and long ago. We had forgotten, till Sean brought us here. But we have said all there is to say. The Maze has changed you both, in ways that may be useful. Now we must go, to face the Enemy. Because the Recreated are very close now, and if they win, the light will
go
out of the galaxy forever.

And as suddenly as that, Silence and Carrion were back on the bridge of the Dauntless. The bridge crew looked round, startled, voices rising in questions Silence didn’t have any answers for. He cut them off with a sharp wave of his hand, and strode over to take his seat in the command chair. Carrion stood at his side, power lance in hand, apparently entirely unruffled.

“All right,” said Silence. “Bring me up to speed. Show me where the Recreated are, right now.”

“All over us,” said the comm officer, Morag Tal. “We’ve been under fire almost from the moment you ... left the bridge. We’re outnumbered, outgunned, and our shields are failing. Apart from that, things are pretty bad. Any chance of reinforcements, Captain?”

“I doubt it,” said Silence. “Where’s the
Sunstrider?”

“Right beside us, and firing off more guns at once than I would have thought possible. Hazel d‘Ark appears to be the only one on board. She’s doing a lot of damage to the bad guys, and
Sunstrider’s
got some really impressive shields, but even so, she’s taking one hell of a battering. Just like us.”

Silence studied the awful shapes filling the viewscreen, even at full magnification, and felt a cold hand clutch at his heart. The sheer scale of the ships and the creatures, and their endless numbers ... A glance at the tactical displays just underlined how desperate the situation was.

“Orders, Captain?” said Morag Tal, her voice carefully calm and even. The bridge hushed as everyone turned to look at the Captain.

“We fight, until we can’t fight anymore,” said Silence. “We have to hold the Recreated’s attention. Buy time for the Deathstalker, down in the planet. And hope to God he can pull a miracle out of the hat one last time.”

And then he broke off, staring at the viewscreen in stunned surprise. Everyone followed his gaze, and they all watched in awestruck silence as reinforcements came from nowhere to join in the fight against the Recreated. It was the Ashrai. Given life and form again by the Madness Maze, they soared across open space, wild and wonderful and very savage. At home in space like an endless sky, they hit the Recreated like an army of angry angels, attacking with claws and fangs, vicious fury and inhuman strength. There seemed no end to their numbers, surging through the cold vacuum on widespread wings, riding winds only they could feel. They were very small, compared to the Recreated, but they were the Ashrai, born again to battle and glory, and they were damned if they would lose again.

“Damn,” said Silence softly. “How did we ever beat
them?”

“You cheated,” said Carrion. “Now, if you’ll excuse me; I have to join my people.”

And he ran forward and dived headfirst into the main viewscreen. It should have shattered under the impact, but as Silence rose sharply from his chair, Carrion plunged into the viewscreen like a dark pool, and was gone, leaving the screen untouched behind him. A moment later, his image appeared on the viewscreen, in open space outside the
Dauntless.
A small darting figure, he flew through space to join the Ashrai, his power lance glowing bright as a star. The utter cold of airless space didn’t seem to be bothering him at all, as he flew through the vacuum as naturally as the Ashrai.

“Damn,”
said Silence, slowly settling into his command chair again. “The Maze really did change him.”

He wondered for a moment what the Maze might have done to him, but the moment passed as he barked orders at his startled crew, bringing them back to their senses and their stations. The
Dauntless
fired upon the Recreated with every gun she had, blasting away at the unfeeling ships and creatures gathering inexorably above the Wolfing World. Whatever damage the
Dauntless
did, it wasn’t enough to do more than slow that gathering, but more and more of the enemy turned their attention away from the planet to strike back at the
Dauntless.
The
Sunstrider
was there too, while Carrion and the Ashrai swarmed all over the Recreated. And all of them knew they were only buying time—against an enemy that would inevitably destroy them—for the one man down below who might hold the answer to the final endgame.

 

Owen Deathstalker, cut off from Time, made his way unhurriedly toward the center of the Maze. He had been there before, and remembered the way. It felt like being a child again, going back to the warmth and comfort of the Family hearth, after a long time in the cold. He came at last to the hidden heart of the Madness Maze, and it was just as he remembered it. It was a wide, circular space, calm as the eye of the storm, shimmering walls surrounding it like the silver petals of an immense flower. And there, in the exact center of the protected space—a glowing crystal, some four feet across, holding within its warm golden glow a tiny human baby. He couldn’t have been more than a month old, his details still forming and settling into place. His eyes were closed, and if he breathed at all it was so slowly Owen couldn’t see it. The baby had one thumb tucked securely into its rosebud mouth. Owen leaned over the crystal, studying his distant ancestor. He seemed very small and innocent, to be so powerful and so very dangerous.