Stardeep

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Stardeep, Throat

The mirror revealed three of Cynosure's defenders in the spacious Parade Hall outside the Knights' Barracks. Each defender faced east, looking through the high archway that opened on the downward-plunging paths of the underdungeon. Delphe wondered what had become of the five free-runners she'd sent into the tunnels.

She glanced to the neighboring mirror, which showed an empty section of underdungeon tunnel immediately beyond the Parade Hall. If Telarian bested the five golems she'd earlier dispatched, he would return up this ramp. The moment she was able to scry him in the Throat was the moment she could begin to bring more substantial firepower to bear on the insane Keeper.

Delphe sat in her crystalline control chair facing the mirrored walls, few of which reflected the actual contents of the Throat. Waiting. Watching. The fires in the Well were muted, as if also waiting. That which the fires contained would know soon enough whether its external agent, Telarian, would fail or succeed in his lunatic plan.

"Something comes," noted Cynosure's voice from above.

Light grew in the tunnel, and into that light rode the vanguard of the Empyrean Knights. The free-running defenders had failed to hold Telarian from returning. She sighed.

The passage sloping up toward the Parade Hall grew wide, and the Knights took advantage of this feature to form up into a wedge.

Telarian next rode into view. Seeing him, now that she fully realized his twisted actions and ambitions, was difficult. To see that blade riding so nonchalantly upon his hip and understand its true origin. . Delphe couldn't help breathing out a harsh, rasping breath. He looked so normal-how was it that his spirit had given in to darkness?

Next to Telarian rode a star elf woman not liveried as a Knight, though she rode a Knight's horse, and was herself armed and armored as a warrior.

"Cynosure, who is that woman?"

"Delphe, I know her, for I once served with her. She is Kiril Duskmourn," replied the sentient idol. "She was Keeper of the Outer Bastion before Telarian. I aided her as I aid you and Telarian now."

Delphe's eyes went round. "Kiril!" She had assumed the former Keeper long dead. What strange route had brought her to Telarian's conniving side?

The pitch of Cynosure's voice rose slightly as he added, "And the blade sheathed at her side is none other than Angul, the Blade Cerulean."

"By the Sign!" she gasped. "If she yet carries that relic, why hasn't she already sundered Telarian's head from his shoulders? Surely Angul can scent an agent of the Traitor!"

"They seem to have reached an accord."

"That makes no sense," Delphe snapped.

She saw Kiril speak, and Telarian nod in agreement. No sound came through, but it seemed Cynosure was correct; the two were on friendly terms. Delphe blinked, groping unsuccessfully for some explanation of the relationship the mirrors displayed.

"Could it be," wondered Cynosure, "that the proximity of Nis confuses Angul's senses? The dark blade encompasses what was once a portion of itself. The dark, twisted portion, granted, but possibly enough to act as a mirror-Angul sees only itself in its amoral twin.",

Delphe rubbed her chin, considering. Cynosure's conjecture was a real possibility. And if true.. then Kiril wasn't truly in collusion with Telarian. Indeed, perhaps she rode with the diviner due to misinformation. Unless Kiril and Angul were now the Traitor's pawns-an unlikely event-they believed whatever lies Telarian fed them.

"Cynosure, I need to talk with Kiril. Immediately. Preferably without the Keeper of the Outer Bastion hearing our conversation. Is that possible?"

"I can try, Delphe."

"Telarian, ask the Knights to pause. An idea occurred to me," said the former Keeper who rode at his side.

Telarian called a halt and warned the vanguard, "Do not advance until I give the word!" The Knights prepared themselves for a charge up the slope and into Stardeep proper via the Parade Hall.

"What idea?"

For answer, Kiril turned in her saddle and called back along the narrowing tunnel, "Raidon Kane, can we speak?"

The odd-looking half-elf who'd displayed amazing martial skill walked forward, his face the picture of calm acceptance, as always. Telarian frowned.

"Raidon, we're close enough to Stardeep's heart that you

might be able to use your mother's forget-me-not to bypass its defenses."

Raidon nodded, gave Telarian an appraising glance, and withdrew an amulet from beneath the collar of his silk jacket.

"A Cerulean Sign!" gasped Telarian. Alarm skittered through his mind. How had he missed that?

"Yes," agreed Kiril, "Raidon keeps a Sign, for him a family heirloom. In any case"-she waved away the questions forming on Telarian's lips-"with a Sign, we can wrench Stardeep's point-to-point transfer system from Cynosure long enough to deliver ourselves directly to Delphe."

"An excellent idea," exclaimed Telarian. "Let me see, and I shall attempt to do as you suggest." He held his hand out to the half-elf. Raidon looked askance at him, making no move to comply.

Kiril shook her head, said, "Raidon has held the Sign for years-it is firmly attuned to him, and him alone. You'd have no chance of using it without a lengthy bonding period, and we don't have time for that."

True, of course. He just wanted the Sign out of the hands of someone over whom he had no leverage. And the appearance of such a potent bane against the Traitor was, again, not something he had foreseen. Anxiety, his old friend, took his cold palm in its own unsettling grip.

Kiril continued. "Even without training, Raidon should be able to use it now that we're so close. Try it," she bid the half-elf. "Try to visualize the seams of arcane energy that infuse Stardeep. Try to. . mentally pluck one and bring it to you."

Raidon's eyes unfocused slightly, and he said, "I sense something of what you say. And"-he looked up, pointing with his free hand-"a questing shaft of light even now reaches out to us. It… is here!"

Telarian choked.

A voice rang out-Delphe's voice. It said, "Kiril Duskmourn, gone from Stardeep these long years. Why have you thrown in with this deserter of the Cerulean Sign's ideals, he who even now plots to overthrow centuries of captivity and release the Traitor?"

Kiril started on hearing the voice. Delphe's voice, she supposed. So this was the woman who had defiled the oath and sought to aid the Traitor? She didn't sound insane. Of course, the truly mad rarely did, until you drew them out and exposed the foundations of their reasoning.

"Muddle-minded witch," declared Kiril, a sneer coming to her face, "don't insult me with your lunatic imprecations. What promise did the Traitor make that you'd join him in his defilement?" As she spoke, the swordswoman looked Raidon in the eyes and gestured sidewise with her head. She asked a question with her movement; could the monk figure out how to trigger a transfer? Perhaps she could keep Delphe distracted with meaningless babble. The demented enjoyed describing their aims, perhaps to justify a guilty conscience, or so stories suggested.

Raidon's brows furrowed in concentration as he gazed into the symbol on his amulet.

A disbelieving gasp came from thin air. Then Delphe said, "You believe I've thrown in with the Traitor while you stand with Telarian, whose mind is poison and whose hands are stained with the blood of Empyrean Knights?"

"Yes, I stand with him, but don't waste your breath with falsehoods and ravings. I know your mind has cracked. Your lies stain my ears, and the weak, craven cowardice I hear in your voice is near to making me vomit!"

Despite actual rancor, Kiril was more concerned with the monk's progress. She watched as Raidon continued to stare into the Sign. A faint, bluish glow woke within the potent trinket. Raidon was accomplishing something!

Delphe's voice came back, heated but under control. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps-just perhaps-Telarian is the one who has become the agent of the Traitor? Perhaps he 'stains your ears.' What do you say to that?"

"Unlikely." Kiril snorted as she glanced at Telarian. The diviner rolled his eyes. Kiril continued. "Because he carries half of Nangulis's soul in a blade all his own. It was Nangulis, if you remember, whose sacrifice is the reason the Traitor doesn't already walk free." Kiril wanted to urge Raidon to hurry, but she didn't want to make Delphe suspicious. If Delphe knew what Raidon attempted, she could ask Cynosure to deactivate point-to-point transfers.

"Kiril," came the response, incredulity clear in the tone, "recall to mind the reason not all of Nangulis's soul was incorporated into Angul. Only those parts aligned with duty, purity, and self-sacrifice for a higher ideal were capable of empowering the Blade Cerulean-as you must remember. Think! It is not simply the 'unused' parts of Nangulis's soul that embodies Nis. Nis is composed of all the hidden, repressed, nihilistic portions of Nangulis, urges and neuroses all mortals share. When Telarian forged Nis, he drew from all those negative aspects and created a blade fit for a sociopath."

Kiril frowned and looked again at Telarian. The man shrugged at the ridiculousness of Delphe's claim. He whispered, "She merely seeks to sow uncertainty. We should advance." Despite his words, Kiril saw a tightening about the man's eyes.

"Think, Kiril-what would such a blade actually want?" exhorted the disembodied Keeper's voice. "Nis is Angul's opposite. Just as the Blade Cerulean seeks to destroy all abominations, the Blade Umbral seeks to release them!"

Kiril, ignoring Raidon to focus solely on Telarian, said, "The woman makes a point. When Nangulis and I discussed his-"

As the skin falls from a shedding snake, so did all expression slough from Telarian's face as he grasped Nis's hilt. He dragged forth its length and swept the blade around to decapitate Kiril. As he attacked, he said in an emotionless voice, "Delphe knows nothing."

Raidon watched with wonder as color returned to his amulet, filling in the gap so dark it seemed to encroach on the symbol of the white tree at its center. This was the color the forget-me-not possessed almost the whole time it had been in his possession. How many times had he pulled it out and thought of his missing parent? He rubbed his fingers across the tiny overlapping inscriptions, briefly wondering if his mother had known their meaning.

To his eyes, a wisp of luminous blue-white light flowed down the ramp, a languid rivulet that terminated in the air above him, Kiril, and Telarian. The strand was a connection!

Voices passed up and down the slender stream of radiance, but the Sign lent him certainty that far more than mere sound could be transferred via the magical circuit, if only it was properly tapped.

Kiril's voice and the voice of the female Keeper contended back and forth, but Raidon paid their meanings no heed. His focus obscured everything but the strand. The longer he stared into its light, the more he understood. Yes, he thought, I see. .

Raidon grasped the end of the strand and mentally pulled.

The rearguard Knight fell into unconsciousness without alerting his compatriots who rode ahead. Gage guided the man's body down from his mount with one hand, holding the steed's reigns with his other so it wouldn't bolt.

In remarkably few breaths, Gage exchanged his dun-colored garments for the Knight's heavier, shiny raiment. He was frankly surprised at how light and flexible the armor was. As he mounted the huffing steed, he wondered if all elven chain was of such quality. Or, maybe the armor he'd just pilfered possessed a special quality known only to star elves. Perhaps he would keep the improvised disguise, if he survived. He mounted up.

He pushed forward through the trailing star elf ranks without difficulty-these Knights had lost too many of their company to adhere to usual protocol. They rode, but were barely cognizant of anything other than what they feared lay ahead. He smiled within his reflective helm. He was imagining the look on Kiril's face when he pushed up the visor and revealed his identity.

Ahead, the tunnel widened. A tangle of Knights gathered above on a sloping ramp, their gazes distracted by something behind them … it was Kiril! She was engrossed in an argument, perhaps with Raidon Kane, who stood to one side of Kiril's steed, or with the scowling elf who rode on her opposite side. Gage was close enough to hear passion in Kiril's voice, but not the words spoken.

Gage moved closer until he was only a few paces behind she who he'd tracked so far. Kiril turned to address the mounted elf. The man, apparently not liking what he heard, pulled forth a length of sword-shaped night. Gage thought he yelled, but all sound was eclipsed by a sudden, ear-piercing rumble that pulsed forth from the amulet the monk held high. Another heartbeat, and on the heels of the tumult came a flash that erased Gage's vision.

Gage yelled as his steed and saddle fell away beneath him. He fell into swirling, sky blue incandescence.

Kiril ducked under Telarian's treacherous attack, groping for Angul's hilt. .

Empyreal dawn blossomed, brilliant and all-encompassing. She couldn't see a thing in the ubiquitous blaze. She felt herself pulled up and into a maw of light.

Despite being blind and off balance, her questing hand found and drew the Blade Cerulean. With Angul in hand, her eyes cleared. Her steel-shod feet found purchase on steady ground. The sweet kiss of Angul lent Kiril magnificent conviction.

She recognized that Raidon had successfully transferred her, himself, and all who had been near her directly into Stardeep's heart. Despite his lack of practice, the monk had managed to exclude steeds from the trip.

Kiril stood in the Inner Bastion, in the very Throat of the Well, where the Traitor's constricting fires reflected up the central shaft.

And not five paces from her stood Telarian, recovering from the rough transit as quickly as she, wielding Angul's dark echo. Telarian, whose surprise attack with Nis revealed him as the true agent of the hoary aboleths. She had unwittingly brought him into the dungeon's most protected chamber. Kiril realized Delphe had secured the inmost cell against entry not because Delphe was the Traitor's pawn, but to prevent Telarian from attempting whatever devious scheme he obviously intended. And like a bumbling fool, she'd asked Raidon to puncture those defenses.

Other figures blurred the edges of Kiril's perception, but her awareness, and Angul's, was reserved for the diviner.

Likewise, Telarian ignored the scrabbling forms of Knights who'd been pulled along with them into the Throat. Anyone not wielding a soul relic wasn't worth any attention at the moment.

Kiril yelled, "Prepare to be sundered from your sins!"

Telarian said nothing, nor did he move. The diviner stood with Nis drawn and held out before him in a relaxed, casual guard. His face was absent of the least hint of emotion. His posture was half-turned toward the Well. Indeed, the tip of his right boot overhung the shaft by a finger's length.

Kiril closed the five paces separating her from her target. She brought Angul around high and hard, intending to beat away the dark blade in a shearing swipe whose trajectory would ultimately end in Telarian's heart.

At the instant of contact, when Angul's fiery length struck Nis's sooty edge, Kiril lost her grip on the hilt.

She gasped, flailing after the blade that suddenly moved under its own power. Unexpectedly bereft of Angul's physical and mental scaffolding, she tumbled headlong across the floor, her body knocking Telarian down at the knees; he'd also lost hold of Nis.

Turning, Kiril saw the two blades hanging unsupported in the air, still crossed as they'd struck. Fire leached from Angul into Nis's lightless expanse, while darkness bled from the Blade Umber back to Angul. The crossed blades were like the wings of a hybrid angel, half-fallen from some celestial sphere, uncertain whether it would leap back up into the starry firmament, or dive down into the depths of the beckoning elemental chaos.

With a deliberate inevitability, the two blades scissored to form a single shaft of steel. Where there had been two, now one sword hung unsupported in the air, burning with a black-tinged fire, both darker than night and brighter than day.