brothers!” “We sent them where ”They’re gone,“ said Owen. ”We sent them where they should have gone long ago. There is no more mindpool. No more Blood Runners. Just you.“
“Let me kill him,” said Hazel. “I have to kill him. For what he did to me, and my other selves.”
Owen looked at her, sensing there was more to her story than he knew. “Do what you have to, Hazel.”
Scour started to back away, and then realized there was nowhere for him to go. There was nowhere he could go that Hazel couldn’t find him. He reached out to the Summerstone with his mind, desperate for more power, only to find Owen and Hazel already there, blocking his way. He brandished a scalpel in his shaking hand, and Hazel just laughed.
“You can’t kill me!” said Scour, trying to shout with his dry, dusty voice. “I know things. Things you need to know. Who made the Madness Maze, and why. What its purpose was. What you’re becoming. Swear to spare me, and all I know is yours. I’ve lived so long, seen so much; you have no idea. You can’t let all that be lost!”
“Of course we can,” said Hazel. “It’s easy. All I have to do is think of all the death and suffering you and your kind have been responsible for down the centuries, and nothing else matters. Nothing else matters at all.”
“You’d say anything, to save your life,” said Owen. “And whatever we need to know, we’ll find out for ourselves, eventually. From a source we can trust.”
“Time to die, Scour,” said Hazel. “I am death, and I have come for you.”
Scour screamed harshly, threw his scalpel at Hazel with vicious strength, and made a run for the door. Hazel snatched the scalpel out of midair, reversed it, and threw it after Scour. The long, thin blade punched through the back of Scour’s skull, burying itself in his head. He staggered to a halt, and then turned slowly to face Hazel. The tip of the scalpel protruded from the wet ruin of his left eye. Scour tried to say something, some last plea or curse, and then he fell to his knees. One hand rose waveringly to his punctured eye, as though he thought he could pick out the thing that was killing him, and then he fell forward and lay still. The last of the Blood Runners, dead at last, and this time no way back.
“Nice throw,” said Owen. “Now, time we were going, I think. We don’t want to overstay our welcome.”
“Get me out of here, Deathstalker,” said Hazel tiredly. “Take me somewhere safe. Somewhere I can sleep without nightmares.”
And then they both turned suddenly to look at the Summerstone. Without moving, it was changing. Becoming ... something else. Its whole nature began to twist and turn, until it seemed both larger and greater than it had been. The Blood Runners saw it as a Stone, part of a Henge, but they were all gone now, and it was no longer bound by their limited perceptions. Its shape flickered, giving glimpses of something else, something that existed in far more than three dimensions. Owen and Hazel had to look away, as the Summerstone began to change into something they couldn’t bear to look at.
They turned and ran, leaving the endless gray plane behind them, intent on reaching the only exit. They scrambled over the dead Blood Runners lying on the other side of the door, and ran full pelt down the stone corridor, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and what they’d almost seen. But they were still able to sense it when the thing the Summerstone had become suddenly disappeared, gone to rejoin the rest of the Madness Maze. The stone floor trembled under their feet, the walls rumbled, and streams of dust fell from the ceiling as it dropped slowly lower.
“What is it?” said Hazel. “What’s happening?”
“This place only existed because the Blood Runners believed in it,” said Owen. “Backed by the power of the Summerstone. Now they’re all dead and it’s gone, the reality of this place is breaking down! We have to
“Let me kill him,” said Hazel. “I have to kill him. For what he did to me, and my other selves.”
Owen looked at her, sensing there was more to her story than he knew. “Do what you have to, Hazel.”
Scour started to back away, and then realized there was nowhere for him to go. There was nowhere he could go that Hazel couldn’t find him. He reached out to the Summerstone with his mind, desperate for more power, only to find Owen and Hazel already there, blocking his way. He brandished a scalpel in his shaking hand, and Hazel just laughed.
“You can’t kill me!” said Scour, trying to shout with his dry, dusty voice. “I know things. Things you need to know. Who made the Madness Maze, and why. What its purpose was. What you’re becoming. Swear to spare me, and all I know is yours. I’ve lived so long, seen so much; you have no idea. You can’t let all that be lost!”
“Of course we can,” said Hazel. “It’s easy. All I have to do is think of all the death and suffering you and your kind have been responsible for down the centuries, and nothing else matters. Nothing else matters at all.”
“You’d say anything, to save your life,” said Owen. “And whatever we need to know, we’ll find out for ourselves, eventually. From a source we can trust.”
“Time to die, Scour,” said Hazel. “I am death, and I have come for you.”
Scour screamed harshly, threw his scalpel at Hazel with vicious strength, and made a run for the door. Hazel snatched the scalpel out of midair, reversed it, and threw it after Scour. The long, thin blade punched through the back of Scour’s skull, burying itself in his head. He staggered to a halt, and then turned slowly to face Hazel. The tip of the scalpel protruded from the wet ruin of his left eye. Scour tried to say something, some last plea or curse, and then he fell to his knees. One hand rose waveringly to his punctured eye, as though he thought he could pick out the thing that was killing him, and then he fell forward and lay still. The last of the Blood Runners, dead at last, and this time no way back.
“Nice throw,” said Owen. “Now, time we were going, I think. We don’t want to overstay our welcome.”
“Get me out of here, Deathstalker,” said Hazel tiredly. “Take me somewhere safe. Somewhere I can sleep without nightmares.”
And then they both turned suddenly to look at the Summerstone. Without moving, it was changing. Becoming ... something else. Its whole nature began to twist and turn, until it seemed both larger and greater than it had been. The Blood Runners saw it as a Stone, part of a Henge, but they were all gone now, and it was no longer bound by their limited perceptions. Its shape flickered, giving glimpses of something else, something that existed in far more than three dimensions. Owen and Hazel had to look away, as the Summerstone began to change into something they couldn’t bear to look at.
They turned and ran, leaving the endless gray plane behind them, intent on reaching the only exit. They scrambled over the dead Blood Runners lying on the other side of the door, and ran full pelt down the stone corridor, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and what they’d almost seen. But they were still able to sense it when the thing the Summerstone had become suddenly disappeared, gone to rejoin the rest of the Madness Maze. The stone floor trembled under their feet, the walls rumbled, and streams of dust fell from the ceiling as it dropped slowly lower.
“What is it?” said Hazel. “What’s happening?”
“This place only existed because the Blood Runners believed in it,” said Owen. “Backed by the power of the Summerstone. Now they’re all dead and it’s gone, the reality of this place is breaking down! We have to
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