Read Online Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny by Simon R. Green - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon R. Green
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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 owe me favors. Many who would come when I called."
"But are you ready to risk open war in the corridors, Scour? Many of us are.
Hazel d'Ark could be the key that finally opens our long delayed potential. With what we learn from her, we could become gods of the whole Empire, rather than just this place."
"Don't I get a say in this?" said Hazel. "If I was just offered a little civilized consideration, I might well cooperate with what you want."
"I doubt that," said Lament, looking directly at her for the first time, his eyes as cold as Scour's. "Not with what we intend to do to you."
"What do you want, Lament?" said Scour.
"There is a gathering at the Summerstone. All the Blood Runners. We want Hazel d'Ark brought to the Summerstone, to see what effect it has on her, and her on it."
"That's dangerous," said Scour immediately. "Too many unknowns. Too much out of our control. What if she regains her full powers?"
"What if she does? She is one, and we are many, and this is our place of power.
Nothing happens here without our consent. You know that."
"True. Very well. She goes to the Summerstone." Scour turned his bloodred eyes on Hazel, and she had to fight down an instinctive need to fall back a pace. "If nothing else, it should be interesting to see what you make of the Summerstone.
And what it makes of you."
In a stone hall that seemed to stretch away on all sides forever, the Blood Runners were dancing. Their long robes flapped and swayed as they stamped and strutted and pirouetted around the great standing stone. There were maybe a hundred of them, all told, weaving in to and away from one another without ever once connecting or colliding. They moved quickly, confidently, through endless measures of a complicated pattern Hazel couldn't even comprehend, let alone follow; driven by an energy that pushed them to their limits.
Hazel stood to one side, her arms held firmly by two of Scour's headless bodies.
She didn't even bother to try to fight them. Scour and Lament had
"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 owe me favors. Many who would come when I called."
"But are you ready to risk open war in the corridors, Scour? Many of us are.
Hazel d'Ark could be the key that finally opens our long delayed potential. With what we learn from her, we could become gods of the whole Empire, rather than just this place."
"Don't I get a say in this?" said Hazel. "If I was just offered a little civilized consideration, I might well cooperate with what you want."
"I doubt that," said Lament, looking directly at her for the first time, his eyes as cold as Scour's. "Not with what we intend to do to you."
"What do you want, Lament?" said Scour.
"There is a gathering at the Summerstone. All the Blood Runners. We want Hazel d'Ark brought to the Summerstone, to see what effect it has on her, and her on it."
"That's dangerous," said Scour immediately. "Too many unknowns. Too much out of our control. What if she regains her full powers?"
"What if she does? She is one, and we are many, and this is our place of power.
Nothing happens here without our consent. You know that."
"True. Very well. She goes to the Summerstone." Scour turned his bloodred eyes on Hazel, and she had to fight down an instinctive need to fall back a pace. "If nothing else, it should be interesting to see what you make of the Summerstone.
And what it makes of you."
In a stone hall that seemed to stretch away on all sides forever, the Blood Runners were dancing. Their long robes flapped and swayed as they stamped and strutted and pirouetted around the great standing stone. There were maybe a hundred of them, all told, weaving in to and away from one another without ever once connecting or colliding. They moved quickly, confidently, through endless measures of a complicated pattern Hazel couldn't even comprehend, let alone follow; driven by an energy that pushed them to their limits.
Hazel stood to one side, her arms held firmly by two of Scour's headless bodies.
She didn't even bother to try to fight them. Scour and Lament had
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