Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

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 Wolfling 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.
    "Well," said a strangely familiar voice, behind him. "It took you long enough to get here."
    Owen spun around sharply, and then winced as the still healing wound in his side flared up. And then he forgot all about that as he found himself looking at…
    himself. Owen Deathstalker, exact in every detail, was standing facing him, hands on hips, studying him critically.
    "Who the hell are you?" said Owen.
    "Wrong question," said his double calmly. "You should have asked, What are you?
    Here's a clue."
    First the face and then the shape of Owen's double ran like liquid, and the whole form reshaped itself in a moment, becoming instead an exact duplicate of Giles Deathstalker. He smiled charmingly at Owen, an expression that didn't really suit Giles's face. Then the double quickly