Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

Finn!” said Brett. “And we won’t have to pay them after all!”
    He’d come out from behind Rose Constantine now, and was looking much happier, if not a little cocky. There was nothing like the prospect of other people fighting so he didn’t have to, to put him in a good mood. Besides, just get him to Mistport, and he’d disappear into the city’s fabled fogs so fast it would make everyone else’s head spin. No more living on the run and being hunted; no more death and danger. Let the others do the hard work; there was serious money waiting to be made in Mistport, for a man with an eye for the main chance.
    “Get that glint out of your eye, Brett,” said Lewis. “Wherever we end up going, you are staying where I can keep an eye on you.”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” Brett said innocently. “It just seems to me that I am now surplus to requirements. What need has your great rebellion for a reformed thief and confidence trickster, now that you’ve got the blessed Owen himself to lead you?”
    He shut up in a moment as Owen turned suddenly and looked right at him. “No,” said the Deathstalker. “I won’t be going with you. This is your war to fight. I have something more important to do.”
    “Everything else can wait!” Lewis said angrily. “We have to bring down Finn Durandal before he destroys the whole Empire!”
    “I have to stop the Terror,” Owen said calmly. “Because no one else can. I’m going back in time, into the past, after Hazel. I’m going to follow her trail back, find out when and how and why she became the Terror, and see if I can stop it. Hazel d’Ark is my responsibility. She always was.”
    Lewis actually sputtered for a moment, lost for words. He was astonished and shocked and terribly disappointed that Owen wouldn’t be leading the rebellion after all. He’d secretly wanted, needed, Owen to take charge so that he wouldn’t have to. He’d never wanted, or felt easy with, the burdens of responsibility. He’d never even wanted to be Champion, and look how that turned out. Lewis felt almost sulkily let down, that after all he’d done and all he’d been through, he wasn’t going to be allowed to rest. But of course he couldn’t say any of that, so he just spluttered and waved his hands about, until Owen stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
    “I know, Lewis. I never wanted to be in charge either. I never even wanted to be a warrior, but events had their way with me anyway. You don’t need me, Lewis; you’re a Deathstalker. Just listen to your heart and your honor, and you’ll be surprised how far that takes you. You’ll do fine. My destiny lies in the past. The Madness Maze engineered my return, with your help, for a specific purpose. It could have found a way to bring me back long before now, if it had wanted, but I wasn’t needed until now.”
    “Hold everything,” said Lewis. “Are you saying everything we’ve been through is down to the Maze manipulating events?”
    “More likely the Maze responded to events, to get what it wanted,” said Owen. “It’s always known about the Terror. It probably even knew who and what the Terror was, but couldn’t tell me until now.”
    “Is the Maze . . . alive?” said Jesamine.
    “That’s a good question,” said Owen. “I hope to find out the answer someday.”
    And then everyone turned sharply to look at Brett Random, who had suddenly started shaking and shuddering as though he’d just put his hand on a live wire. His whole body shook in the grasp of an invisible force. His eyes were very large and his teeth were chattering. Everyone backed away from him except Rose, who grabbed hold of him to steady him, and then seemed to catch some of the condition herself. Her head snapped back, her eyes went wide, and then she let go of Brett and stood back. Her stance changed, in subtle but unmistakable ways. Brett abruptly stopped juddering and started speaking in tongues, gabbling first nonsense and then a strange mixture of obscure dialects and dead languages. Rose’s head swiveled slowly back and forth, her teeth grating together. By now everyone else had their guns out. They knew the signs of possession. Brett let out a great sigh, relaxed all over, and turned to look at Lewis. And someone else looked out of Brett’s eyes.
    “Hello there,” he said in a voice that was nothing like his own. “I speak for the oversoul, through Brett Random. He is an esper, after all, even if