Deathstalker Honor (6 page)

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said easily.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Owen. “I assume you had no prior knowledge of rock climbing before today either?”

“Got it in one. It’s as though my hands and feet know where to go without me looking, as if they’ve always known. Spooky. I wonder what else we could do if we just put our minds to it. I’ve always dreamed of flying . . .”

“I wouldn’t try that out just now,” said Owen. “Those rocks below look to be particularly unforgiving.”

“Good point.”

They climbed some more in silence. Owen couldn’t help noticing that neither of them were even breathing hard.

“Do you ever think about the things we can do?” he said finally. “What we’re becoming? We’re not espers. I had a number of major players from the esper underground scan me, at my request. They had no idea at all how I’m able to do the things I do.”

“I try not to think about it too much,” said Hazel. “We were given gifts. Gifts that have kept us alive in situations where anyone else would have perished horribly. They helped us overthrow the Empire. Why look such a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Just because something has a leg at each corner and eats hay, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a horse. Espers, for all their powers, are still human. That’s one of the reasons we fought the rebellion. But we were changed by an alien device. Who knows what it was really intended to do, what it was supposed to produce?”

“Transfiguration,” said Hazel slowly. “It made us . . . better than we were. That was its function. I remember that much.”

“But what do we mean by better? A human definition or an alien one?”

“Why the hell are you asking me? You’re the brains in this partnership. I just hit things.”

Owen sighed. “Because I’m tired of asking myself questions that I can’t answer. Or else coming up with answers that are just too damned disturbing. Our only hope of enlightenment was the Maze itself, and the Maze is gone. Destroyed. And with it went all our hopes of discovering exactly what was done to us and why.”

“So why torment yourself?” said Hazel, stopping to look at him as she realized he’d stopped climbing.

“Because I’m scared of what I might be becoming,” said Owen. “I’m scared I might be losing my Humanity. Leaving it behind. Have you ever thought we might end up as distant from ordinary men and women as the Hadenmen or the Wampyr or the AIs from Shub? That we might become so . . . alien that we might forget who and what we used to be?”

“Stop it, Owen,” said Hazel sharply. “You’re just spooking yourself. I don’t feel any different from the person I used to be. I still believe in the same things, want the same things, hate the same things. I’m still me. My abilities just make it that much easier for me to achieve the things I want.”

She started climbing again, and after a moment Owen followed her. “I think it’s subtler than that,” he said finally. “One small change might not mean much, but put enough of them together . . . I mean, we don’t even have the first idea of how our powers work. Why they come and go the way they do. Sometimes we’re just fighters with an edge, and other times we’re all but gods. We’re not in control of our powers. They control us.”

“Look,” said Hazel. “If you’re trying to spook me now, you’re succeeding, so cut it out. Our condition didn’t exactly come with a user’s manual, so all we can hope to do is learn by doing.”

“It’s dangerous to use any new weapon without checking out the small print. There could be side effects we haven’t noticed yet. Maybe we’re using up our lives. Burning up all our years to come. The energy that powers our abilities has to come from somewhere. The candle that burns twice as brightly burns half as long. And we have burned brighter than suns.”

“God, you’re in a morbid mood today. I feel fine. I feel better than fine. Maybe we’ll live forever.”

“And another thing, why did we all come out of the Maze with different abilities?”

“Why not?” said Hazel reasonably. “We were all different people.”

“Yes, but . . . some of what we do is similar to esp. Jack and Ruby are firestarters, and Giles could teleport. I’ve got something like psychokinesis. But how the hell do you do what you do? What are these different versions of yourself that you’re able to summon up during a fight?”

“Damned if I know,” said Hazel. “I just call, and they come. None of them ever stuck around long enough afterward to answer questions. Giles thought they were other versions of me from different time tracks—people I might have become if things had gone differently.”

“Yeah, but time tracks are just a theory,” said Owen. “No one’s ever been able to prove the existence of different dimensions, let alone make contact with them. Maybe the other yous are just products of your imagination, made real by the power within you.”

“No way,” said Hazel firmly. “I’ve seen some of these other mes. I don’t have that good an imagination.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Owen,
I don’t know
! And this is not the time or the place to be having a discussion. Now, stop asking questions and get your ass in gear, or I’ll get behind you and kick your butt all the way up.”

Owen considered this. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn right. Now, shift it.”

They climbed the rest of the way in silence, eventually coming to the great circular opening in the granite wall that led to the massive caves burrowed out under the Standing. Owen used to keep his personal flyers and other vehicles there when he was in residence. It made sense to assume that Valentine and his cronies had docked their ships in the caves too, which meant the opening would still be clear. And Owen knew of a secret passage that led directly from the main cave to the master bedroom.

“A secret passage?” Hazel had said.

“Oh, yes. I used it to escape from the castle when my people first turned on me.”

“And no one but you knows about it?”

“It’s a Family secret. The only other person I ever told was David, and he’s dead now.”

They moved silently up to the lip of the opening and clung to the cold stone, still as limpets, as they listened for any sign that their presence had been noted. After a while Owen gestured to Hazel that he was going to move up over the ledge and into the cave opening. She nodded, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself. Theoretically, there could be any number of armed guards present, looking after the parked ships, but it didn’t seem likely. By any normal standards, the caves were unreachable. Unfortunately for Valentine, Owen and Hazel hadn’t been in hailing distance of normal for some time now. Owen took a firm grip on the granite ledge, and hauled himself up and over and into the cave in one swift, fluid motion. He was up on his feet in a second, disrupter in hand, searching for a target, but all was quiet. Four luxurious yachts stood together, powered down, along with a handful of single-man flyers, but otherwise the place was deserted. Not a guard in sight. Owen padded stealthily forward, ears pricked for the slightest sound, but all he could hear was his own breathing. He lowered his gun and breathed a little more easily.

“All clear, Hazel.”

She was with him in a moment, hurrying across the ceramic floor to stand beside him, projectile gun in one hand, grenade in the other. She glared suspiciously about her. “There ought to be someone here. It doesn’t make sense to leave expensive ships like these just standing around unguarded.”

“Who’s going to steal them?” said Owen reasonably. “Valentine and his private army are the only people here.”

“What about security cameras?”

“Oz still has secret access codes for all the castle’s security computers. Right now he’s editing their signals so we don’t appear. This was all covered in the planning sessions, Hazel. I do wish you’d attend the briefings.”

“What, and do you out of the fun of explaining everything to me? You’d never forgive me.” She turned slowly around in a circle, checking the corners and shadows. “I still don’t like this. It’s too easy. If I was as guilty of as many nasty things as Valentine, I’d want all my exits and entrances thoroughly guarded.”

“He’s probably relying on the security systems. I did install the very best. And those souped-up satellites of his would hold off any normal ship.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Hazel. “What if they reported opening fire on us?”

“What if they did? After the onslaught they handed out, they probably assumed we were so damaged we burned up during the descent.”

“You keep using that word probably. There’s nothing very probable about Valentine Wolfe. He’s paranoid as hell; he doesn’t think the way the rest of us do.”

“Hazel, trust me. This is my place, I know what I’m doing. Now, please put away that gun and grenade before you have an unfortunate and very loud accident. I want to take a look around here.”

“What’s there to see?” said Hazel. “It’s just a cave.”

“The first of several caves,” said Owen, carefully not watching as Hazel made the gun and grenade disappear about her person. “When I was in charge here, we used the extra caves to store all the items there wasn’t room for in the Standing proper. When a Family’s been around for as long as mine, you’d be amazed how much junk you accumulate. And of course you don’t dare throw any of it out for fear of future generations calling you a barbarian. Because you never know when some piece of centuries-old tatt might suddenly become fashionable again, or might come in handy to settle some ancient Family feud or argument. I used to display the best pieces in the castle itself and dump the rest in the caves down here. It’s all carefully catalogued. Somewhere. David said he was going to have a good clear-out once he moved in, but I don’t think he had time, in the end. Either way, I’ll feel better once I’ve checked. I don’t like surprises.”

He moved off toward the back of the cave. Hazel rolled up her eyes briefly at the polished ceiling, and went after him, giving the parked yachts plenty of room in case they were armed with proximity alarms. In the end, Owen didn’t get far. He stood before the entrance to the next cave, which was now blocked off by a glowing force field. He was standing very still, and Hazel could tell by the tenseness in his stance that something was very wrong. She hurried over to join him, the gun back in her hand again. She moved in beside him and then stopped, and screwed up her face in disgust. Beyond the transparent energy field the cave was packed from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling with dead bodies. Not respectfully lying in state, on separate slabs or tables, but just crammed together, packed in as tightly as possible. A temperature gauge on the wall by the opening showed that a freezer unit was maintaining the bodies at near zero. Some of the faces looked out at Owen and Hazel, an almost lifelike gleam shining from the frost on their frozen eyeballs.

“Well,” Owen said finally. “Now we know what they did with the bodies.”

“Owen . . .”

“Not now. I want to check the other caves.”

And so they went from cave to cave, from opening to opening, and they were all filled to capacity with the refrigerated dead of Virimonde. Owen tried to estimate how many bodies there were, but even guessing at the massive size of the caves, he couldn’t grasp it. The numbers were just too big. He stopped before the opening to the last cave, and couldn’t go any farther. All the strength just went out of him. Hazel stood beside him and put a comforting hand on his arm, but he hardly felt it.

“I feel like I ought to do something,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know what. They were my people. They’re still my people. Even if they are dead. But I don’t know what to do.”

His hands had clenched into helpless fists. Hazel moved in close beside him, trying to support and comfort him by her proximity.

“I don’t suppose this means much to you,” said Owen. “After all, you were a clonelegger.”

“I never saw the bodies,” said Hazel. “But sometimes I had nightmares . . . Why do you suppose Valentine . . . ?”

“Who knows why Valentine does anything anymore?”

Hazel hesitated, hearing the cold, bitter rage beneath his words, but pressed on. “The Wolfe’s crazy, but there’s always a method to his madness. He must have had a reason. Or else why bother refrigerating them?”

“Knowing Valentine, it’s probably a very disturbing reason.” Owen let his breath out in a long sigh, and his fists unclenched. “I say we find the bastard and ask him. And if I don’t like his answers, I’m going to bounce him off the castle walls till his ears bleed.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” said Hazel.

Owen led the way to the back of the flyer cave, and opened a hidden door in the wall to reveal a narrow stone passage leading upward. Lights came on in the tunnel, showing the way. Hazel was quietly impressed.

“It leads to another secret door in what used to be my old bedchamber,” said Owen. “From there we have access to all the main areas of the castle. Internal security is mostly human rather than tech. Aristocrats don’t like being spied on. Keep your hand near your sword, but leave your guns alone. The sound of a gun would bring guards running from all directions. And I don’t want a war. I just want Valentine.”

Anywhen else, Hazel would have snapped at Owen for lecturing her on something so obvious, but she kept her peace. Talking helped distract him. She followed him into the tunnel, and the door swung shut behind them. Their footsteps seemed very loud in the quiet. And then Owen stopped suddenly, turning his head back and forth.

“What is it?” Hazel said quietly.

“Something’s wrong,” said Owen.

Hazel looked up the tunnel. “I can’t see anything.”

“Neither can I. But I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Hazel concentrated, trying to reach out in the strange directions her mind was capable of, and then Owen grabbed her roughly and threw her to the floor. She landed hard, driving the breath from her lungs. Owen hit the ground beside her a moment later, one arm flung across her to hold her down. And from every side disrupter beams filled the tunnel from hidden gun ports. If they’d stayed standing, they’d have been shot to mincemeat.