Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

dictated by the minds of those who discover it. You expected to see an alien artifact, so that's what you saw. We think in older terms, so we saw a ring of standing stones. A Henge. It took us a long time to understand what it was, and what it could do, and in the end we were driven from that world before we could pierce its heart, as you did. But we took one stone with us, and it has sustained us ever since. Perhaps now you begin to understand why we are so eager to learn the secrets of your flesh and of your mind, to understand what
    marvelous changes the Maze has wrought in you. The Maze is gone. Destroyed. You are all that remains of its glory and its mystery. We will know your secrets. We deserve them. You are what we were meant to be!"
    Hazel considered the possibilities of Blood Runners with Maze powers, and her blood ran cold. She surged up against the leather straps holding her down, channeling all her will into calling up her boost, and sudden new strength flooded through her. Fear and desperation can do much to clear even the most clouded of minds. The leather straps held, but the buckles gave way, the metal ripping through the leather as Hazel's more than human strength blazed up in her. She sat up quickly, throwing aside the loosened straps, and jumped down from the trolley, careful to put it between her and Scour. Her legs were only unsteady for a moment. Her mind was crystal clear, and already working furiously on how to get past Scour to the only exit from the chamber. Her hands dropped automatically to her sides, but her guns and her sword were gone, of course. It didn't matter. She was boosting, and strong enough and mad enough to handle one scrawny Blood Runner. She pushed the trolley aside.
    Scour hadn't moved an inch, his face entirely unmoved. "Get back on the trolley, Hazel. There's nowhere you can go. Your life is over; your destiny ends here, with us."
    "Cram it," said Hazel. "I'll see every one of you dead before I let you lay one finger on me. Even if I have to dismantle you one at a time with my bare hands.
    Now, you can either show me the way out of this hellhole, or I'll start with you."
    "There is no way out. This is all there is. And you're not going anywhere."
    Scour raised a pale hand, and a shimmering force field sprang up between him and Hazel. It moved slowly toward her, spitting and crackling, and she backed
    uneasily away. A similar energy field had brought her all the way here from Lachrymae Christi. She tried to make a dart for the open doorway, but another force field appeared out of nowhere to block her way. It advanced on her too, and Hazel backed away again, looking quickly about her. In her boosted state she was potentially very fast on her feet, but there just wasn't enough room to build up any speed. The two crackling energy fields hemmed her in, and herded her back to the trolley. Hazel dropped out of boost. No point in burning up what little strength she had left. Scour smiled at her.
    "This is our world, Hazel, our place, and we are very powerful here. Now, be a good little lab specimen, and lie back down on the trolley, and we can make a start on your long journey into pain and self-knowledge."
    He held up one pale hand, and there was something shiny in it. Shiny and sharp.
    A scalpel.
    "We're going to have such fun together, Hazel."
    "That's enough, Scour," said a new rough voice from the doorway. "This was not agreed. She belongs to all of us."
    Hazel looked quickly around, hoping against hope for a last-minute rescue, or at least a breathing space. A second Blood Runner was standing in the open doorway, his left hand held up in protest or warning. Two of the headless bodies stood behind him, muscular arms crossed over their immense chests. Scour scowled at the newcomer.
    "Still afraid to travel anywhere without your bodyguards, Lament. It was decided that Hazel d'Ark should be placed into my hands, that I should have first access to the mysteries of her flesh. I have the most experience in these matters."
    "That's a matter of opinion," said Lament. "And not all of us agreed with that
    decision. You are too secretive, Scour. You keep too many things to yourself, these days. The secrets contained in Hazel d'Ark's mind and body are too precious, too important to us all, to be trusted only to you. I speak for many.
    Do not defy us."
    "I have allies too, Lament." The dry, rough voice was cracking with anger, but still little more than a whisper. "There are many who