Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

something in the way he said that which implied he was just as shaken by the
    Maze as they were. Owen found that oddly reassuring. If something as big and extremely dangerous looking as the Wolfling could be upset by the Maze, he felt he had every right to feel upset too.
    I agree with Hazel," he said loudly. "Let's go."
    "Fine," said Random. "Any idea which way?"
    "Of course," said Hazel, pointing immediately at an exit that looked no different from any of the others. She stopped and frowned. "Now how did I know that?"
    "It's the Maze," said the Wolfling. "You're different now, all of you. Your minds work in different ways. You'll discover more new abilities as time goes on."
    Hazel looked back at Owen. "I don't think I like the sound of that."
    Owen shrugged uneasily. "It's a bit late to worry now.
    Whatever it is, it's already happened. You lead the way, Hazel. We'll follow."
    Hazel scowled, then turned abruptly and stalked off into the exit she'd chosen.
    Owen moved quickly to follow her, and the others trailed after him. The shimmering steel walls closed around him again, but this time the sense of oppression and claustrophobia was gone. The Maze felt neutral, calm, as though it was no longer interested in him. He felt different. Stronger. Sharper. More capable. He felt it as a kind of quiet confidence more than anything else, as though whatever might happen now, he would be able to deal with it. Given the current situation, that disturbed him just a little. It wasn't natural to feel this calm under this kind of pressure. If the Empire didn't get him, the Hadenmen probably would. All in all, he currently had the life expectancy of a goldfish in a tank of piranha. Except… he didn't feel like a goldfish anymore.
    And then there was the Darkvoid Device. The vanisher of stars, the slaughterer
    of billions. He didn't like just walking away and leaving it, but he didn't know what else to do with it. Giles said it was safe and protected where it was, and Owen felt instinctively that his ancestor was right. He had no doubt the Maze was quite capable of defending itself against unwanted intruders. He frowned as something about that thought nagged at him. The Maze killed most people who entered it, or drove them mad, but everyone in his party had come through safe and intact. The odds against that had to be unthinkably huge. Which implied that it hadn't been chance at all. The Maze had chosen to transform them all, for its own reasons. Owen liked that thought even less than his first one. He had no trouble thinking of the Maze as alive and even aware, but to think of it as intelligent, and making choices, was distinctly disturbing. He felt suddenly like a very small animal moving through the bowels of some unimaginably huge beast. He shook his head. Whatever the truth, there was nothing he could do about it now. Except perhaps walk a little faster and change the subject. He deliberately concentrated on the Darkvoid Device again, even though it was only marginally less worrying. It was safe where it was, protected by an army of Hadenmen, particularly as only a few people knew of its location. Certainly he couldn't think of anywhere safer. Owen tried very consciously to keep thinking of the Device as it. He didn't want to think of it as a baby, or even human.
    That might make it harder for him to destroy the Device, if it became necessary.
    Can you imagine what he might be capable of, as a child, or an adult? And what about the dead? Maybe he'll bring them back, too—
    Owen pictured an Empire on fire, planets burning like coals in the night.
    Humanity slaughtered and scattered by a power beyond comprehension, or hope of reason or mercy. He couldn't allow that. He would kill the Device, if he had to.

    If it became necessary. And if the Device would let him.
    He followed Hazel through the Maze, twisting and turning down one passage after another. It no longer seemed random to him. He didn't need to wait for Hazel to choose. He knew the way out, too, on a level so deep and instinctive he trusted it implicitly. It was as though he knew the Maze from top to bottom, as though he'd always known it. He was still changing. He could feel it. The shimmering steel walls seemed somehow more significant, more purposeful than they had before. He could hear soft sounds on the edge of his hearing: quiet voices, like the Maze whispering to itself. He could sense the soft flutter of moving energies all around him, the power of certain