Flickering magical flames cast warm light down from the ceiling-mounted braziers, striking glints and gleams off the five humanoid constructs that shared the otherwise empty chamber. Each had thick metal plates bolted over a stone-sculpted body, reinforcing the granite strength with the protection only a magical forge could offer. Eight or nine feet tall, each defender’s hands were curled into stone-and-iron fists as large as Delphe’s entire body. Empowered soulsword or not, Telarian was about to meet the justice his perfidy had earned.
“Still no contact from within,” uttered the lead construct. Cynosure equally inhabited all five mobile idols, while at the same time inhabiting all the rest of Stardeep. His power was vast. It frightened her to think Telarian had managed to insert his own twisted control over the powerful sentient artifact.
“In we go,” she replied. As the lead construct moved to the barracks door, she quietly uttered words of hardening and strength, such that her own skin took on a hardness akin to stone.
A gasping, wide-eyed Knight’s apprentice met them at the door. A young elf, not yet a month out of Sildëyuir, the apprentice had never seen one of Cynosure’s statues walking about, let alone a group of five. All color drained from his face, and he tried but failed to produce any sound to greet Delphe.
“Where is Telarian? Is he within?” demanded Delphe.
The apprentice blinked and shook his head. He finally gained enough control over his voice to say, “He was, but he just rode out—he took most of the Knights with him, to counter the attack!”
“What attack?”
The apprentice stuttered. “Wha—you don’t know? Telarian said—”
“Tell me what Telarian said, and where he has gone,” she commanded.
He nodded. “Keeper Telarian perceived an attack against Stardeep launched from Sildëyuir itself, through the ancient tunnels of the underdungeon. Telarian led the Knights to oppose the Traitor’s allies who seek to sneak in upon us all unawares.”
“Which allies of the Traitor did Telarian indicate are moving against us—do they have a name?” she asked. Not that she expected anything but lies from the diviner’s mouth. What was shockingly, horrifyingly apparent was that Telarian had emptied the barracks of an elite fighting force of more than two hundred Empyrean Knights. Two hundred Knights, whom he was apparently leading into the forlorn, unmapped tunnels whose existence predated the building of Stardeep, and Sildëyuir itself. For what purpose? Did he hope to sap Stardeep’s strength by leading its defenders into an ambush?
One of the constructs stepped past the apprentice before the elf could answer Delphe, its metal footfalls echoing like a boulder-fall as it moved to investigate. The elf turned to watch the construct with wide eyes.
She repeated, “Apprentice—who attacks us, according to Telarian?”
“I … I am not privy to that information, Keeper. I suppose … it was nilshai who attacked—they are growing more aggressive all the time.”
Delphe paused. Was that possible? Certainly it could be, but then the image of Telarian’s face as he grasped Nis visited her. It was the face of a betrayer. All words that emerged from her fellow Keeper’s mouth were now suspect.
She asked, “Did they go on horse?”
The apprentice shrugged. “Yes. He said the tunnels were wide enough to allow a mounted company swift passage for many miles.”
Moments later, a construct different than the one that had rushed past the apprentice spoke with Cynosure’s voice. “Only apprentices, smiths, and like support staff yet populate the barracks.”
Delphe, already looking at the darkened archway leading into the underdungeon, was at a loss. Why had Telarian sent the Knights tearing off into the twisted tunnels beneath Stardeep on horse? The underdungeon tunnels connected, eventually, back into Sildëyuir, but that which lay between was unmapped, and worse, was demonstrably lethal. Threats lurked in those ancient warrens whose origins reached further back than Stardeep’s delving. Traps fueled by ancient magic, and the restless spirits of those who had once lived there. The détente of a thousand years was based on the fact that no dwellers of those warrens ever wandered up to bedevil Stardeep, and no organized force from Stardeep ever ventured into those narrow ways to discover the true nature of the presumed threats.
A stand-off now shattered by Telarian, because of some supposed attack.
“Cynosure, I am not sure what course is best.”
“We could follow him, but it is clear he has the Knights’ trust. With all ten defender statues, I could deal serious damage, but I would not want to unleash my strength against those whose duty compels them to answer to Telarian’s orders.”
“Of course. We must not oppose the Knights. They are our best strength, not our foes. It is against Telarian alone we must set ourselves. But first, I need to discover what Telarian truly intends. Does he dance on the strings of the Traitor’s desire, or has he simply gone insane?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sildëyuir, Moonveil Citadel
One by one, the glass towers softened, leaned, and fell into consuming fire. The burning citadel glowed so brightly the stars directly above the inferno were smeared out in the orange glare. The wide, fey plain had lost its innocence.
The scene affected her like a physical blow; Kiril’s stomach twisted and her knees threatened to give way. She spit out a garbled curse, gasped, and took off running down the hill. Xet screeched and darted overhead in crazed, anxious patterns. She heard the sorcerer exclaim in surprise behind her. She cared not. Let the strangers follow her or stay back. Before her was Moonveil Citadel, one of the premier mansions of Sildëyuir. If Moonveil was in flames …
Raidon caught up, easily matching her stride for stride. He said, “I see figures sprawled in front of the fiery structure, unmoving. Better we approach cautiously. Whatever attacked this structure and set it ablaze may lurk nearby.”
Kiril narrowed her eyes and scanned the periphery of the structure. She saw the bodies Raidon spoke of. The sight of what were likely injured or dead star elves sprawled like gruesome trophies in front of their home lent more speed to her stride. She yelled, “I hope the blood-flecked bastards responsible are still lurking. When I catch them …”
The monk kept pace, his breath inaudible, while her own grew louder and more ragged. Chain mail, even elven chain mail, was not designed to accommodate a runner. She heard another yelled protest from Adrik, this time more faint.
When she and Raidon reached the foot of the blaze, she was gasping. The heat from the fire drew beads of sweat instantly to her forehead and forearms. The figures they’d glimpsed silhouetted were indeed star elves. Twelve people were laid out in all, ranging in age from rickety elders to youths not yet into their first decade. She recognized Nandor, Avarin, and Nelandrion from visits to Moonveil when she was a child. Now they were dead. And … Kiril sucked in her breath. Each body lacked its eyes; bloody sockets stared in grisly parody of perception. Something had collected trophies.
“What Hells-spawned bastard did this?” she whispered. Were glass citadels all across Sildëyuir ablaze like Moonveil? Was the Traitor already free, and visiting his frustrated vengeance on his own people, those who had imprisoned him for so many centuries?
“Behind you!” came Adrik’s warning, too late.
A flame had detached from the blackened, sagging mansion wall. It charged her and Raidon as they stared at the violated bodies. The flame raced across the ground, revealing in its bright core a humanoid conflagration. Surprised, her hand fumbled ineffectively for Angul’s hilt even as the fiery creature collided with her.
Searing pain choked a strangely high-pitched gasp from her lips. The overheated air pulled the very breath from her lungs. The creature’s burning limbs wrapped about her, pulling her close in a burning, elemental bear hug. Her hair smoldered and caught flame. She strained toward Angul, but her arms were caught within the encircling grasp. She couldn’t reach Angul’s hilt!
The monk drew his slender blade, and
with masterful proficiency, laid into the burning creature’s fiery core while deftly avoiding Kiril.
The fire elemental shuddered, and the elf renewed her effort to burst free. Success! She tumbled into the cool air, rolling to put some distance between herself and her foe and to put out the flames that burned her clothing. Beating out the flames in her hair, she stood, trailing a corona of dark smoke. The smell of burnt leather and hair pinched her nose.
Raidon danced back and forth with the living inferno, using his strangely shaped weapon in two hands, even though the blade was no longer than an ordinary long sword. The straight blade with its curved point danced like a needle, slashing, parrying, and plunging at the creature’s fiery core. In turn, the dancing mote of heat and flame drew ever closer to the monk, pawing at Raidon with claws of flickering red and yellow. The fire consuming the citadel blazed steadily, and Kiril realized that fighting the elemental so close to the fire that spawned it was likely a waste of time. Every strike Raidon landed was burned away, revealing unblemished, sun-bright “flesh” moments later.
“Fall back, Raidon!” she ordered. “It shrugs off injury while it is so close to the great fire!” She hoped her surmise was true.
The monk danced away from Moonveil Citadel, as did she, now consciously avoiding Angul’s lure. She had been true to her resolve regarding the whisky, and unless she needed to draw the blade to save her life, she didn’t want to risk succumbing utterly to his control; without alcohol insulating her mind, she was far more vulnerable.
Adrik’s voice broke over the roar of flames from the collapsing citadel. She glanced back soon enough to witness the sorcerer unleashing a blast of blizzard white, narrow where it issued from his hands, but wide enough to encompass the entire stalking flame. Raidon vaulted up and backward, gracefully avoiding the wintry spell. Within that chilly cone, the creature writhed, screaming a torrent of flame.
Raidon extended his blade as the miniature blizzard faded, using it almost like a spear, thrusting into the weakened creature. It shuddered one final time, then dissolved into so many fading flames.
The half-elf essayed a flourish with his blade, then sheathed it in the same elegant motion. He pointed upward and behind Kiril.
She turned. Four ugly silhouettes straddled the same ridge they’d topped a while earlier. Not the star elves she’d hoped to see. Instead, monsters. Each possessed three clawed legs supporting a body as sinuous as a snake. Their ropy arms were like tentacles, and at least three eyes sprouted from each squat, coiled head.
The creatures charged down the ridge as one. Three moved along the ground in an awkward but surprisingly swift gait. The fourth unfurled insectoid wings and took to the air, flying toward the dragonet that circled above the ridge.
Adrik shrieked as he dashed away from the newcomers. The three creatures on the ground bore down on the fleeing sorcerer. The flying creature pointed at Xet. A black spark easily jumped up to the crystal dragon. The tiny construct’s color turned to red then black, and the dragonet dropped from the sky.
“Xet!” screamed Kiril. The little creature was more annoyance than companion, but …
Raidon tore forward, moving dozens of paces in the blink of an eye. As a creature wrapped a tearing, clawed tentacle around one of Adrik’s flailing arms, the monk launched himself into the air. He delivered a snapping side kick directly into the attacking creature’s knoblike head. The other two monsters surged into the mix. Kiril advanced, but she kept her eyes on the single creature that remained aloft. A nilshai. It must have been responsible for summoning the sentient flame from the burning citadel.
It chattered an obscene blend of music and syllables. With an audible crack, blue-green lightning suddenly connected the tips of its tentacles with Kiril’s metallic armor. She screamed as the electric surge drew tight all her muscles into a single, full-body cramp.
She could put off the inevitable no longer.
Angul woke to blue fire in her hand.
The luminosity of the stars above tripled, and all shadows fled the field, or so it seemed to Kiril.
The swordswoman yelled again, her voice stripped of uncertainty and pain. It was the cry of a warrior certain of her eventual victory.
Kiril fell upon the creatures’ flanks as they attempted to smother the monk, who in turn protected Adrik’s prostrate form.
When her blade contacted the flesh of the first nilshai, she not only hewed through its tissue, but the cerulean flame from her blade immediately set it alight so robustly that its destruction was a small explosion. Flaming, white-hot bits were propelled in every direction. The nearest nilshai also caught fire, and a moment later, it too was consumed by Angul’s cleansing influence.
Rarely was her blade so effective—only when Angul’s true enemies were flushed from dark corners. These were aberrations! And Angul was forged for one purpose before all else: the eradication of all atrocities such as these whose mere existence so tainted the world.
The final, cowering nilshai uttered an ululation that Kiril understood as terror for its evil soul. She swept her blade through its abominable carcass, consuming flesh and spirit simultaneously with her unforgiving length of steel.
The last abomination continued to hover above the ridge. It spoke, and its voice was a synthesis of high-pitched squeals, grinding teeth, and tentacle flesh rasping across itself. Kiril heard it say, “I foresee my end. As I foresaw the deaths of my lesser sisters you’ve just slain. But I rejoice! For each death, even mine, is another stone in the path that leads ineluctably to Xxiphu’s emergence! Even as I breathe my last—”
Kiril reversed her grip on Angul’s hilt, then launched the burning blade as if he were a javelin. Angul punched through the air tip-forward, a series of ever-widening, flaming halos in his wake. The prophesying aberration’s body was consumed in the cleansing inferno that followed contact.
Raidon Kane bent to one knee to support Adrik’s head. The sorcerer shivered and gasped, “My arm! It … it hurt like fire, but now it’s numb.”
The monk examined the man’s injured limb, easily visible through the shredded sleeve of his robe. Sucker marks made ugly circles across his flesh. At the center of each circle beaded a tiny drop of blood. The arm’s color was fading toward a sickly green hue.
“Poison runs in your veins,” declared Raidon. “Hold still.” So saying, he tore away Adrik’s shredded sleeve and used it to tie a tourniquet around the sorcerer’s arm above the elbow. He cinched it tight, making the man wince. He hoped it was tight enough to slow the venom. Better the loss of a single arm than death.
The swordswoman walked up, her sword already tucked in her belt. Her blade had surprised Raidon with its incredible display. He wondered why the sword had been so ineffective when he’d first met Kiril at the Mere.
In her arms, Kiril carried the tiny creature she called Xet. Its iridescent color was slowly returning, and its wings flexed. The swordswoman cradled it with a tenderness Raidon hadn’t guessed belonged to the elf.
He observed, “You said before that ‘threats’ wandered Sildëyuir. Are these what you spoke of?”
Kiril said, “Yes. The nilshai. Damned monsters that wield formidable sorcery. They are recent invaders, only becoming a nuisance in the last few years. Word of monsters in the lonelier stretches of the forest circulated, though most thought these ‘nilshai’ stories were jokes.”
The swordswoman scowled at the burnt cinder that was once Moonveil Citadel. “Soon enough, we realized the nilshai were all too real. We discovered they were poisoning Sildëyuir for years.”
“Poisoning?” asked the monk.
“They kill our children and steal away tracts of land that are never seen again.”
Concern clutched Raidon’s stomach. He had discovered his mother’s home realm only to find it under attack by vicious invaders. Was she safe?
Adrik looked up from his ravaged, darkening arm. He asked, his teeth gritted against pain, “Where do they come from?”
Kiril g
azed at the burning citadel. She said, “No one ever knew. Our sages said they hailed from a spectral reality that underpins our own. But Sildëyuir was disjoined from cosmology when it first took shape. It has always puzzled my folk why the nilshai exert so much effort to enter here, when Faerûn is far easier to reach.”
Kiril paused, then continued. “But I know the truth, now. If any of my people were around to hear it, I would explain that the blood-flecking nilshai are agents of the Traitor, adherents who worship, as he does, the gods-damned aberrations of the primeval world. They are servants of the cursed Lords of Madness who seek to regain the realm denied them by the first gods.”
Adrik grunted and said no more. Raidon took it as a warning, considering that the voluble sorcerer typically would have launched into a dozen questions. The monk tapped Kiril on the shoulder and said in a quiet voice, “This man requires a healer’s craft.”
Kiril frowned and hesitated, but she said, “Aid can be petitioned from a place near here.”
Adrik smiled despite his pain.
They crested another ridge. Raidon supported the ailing sorcerer. Before them stood an elegant tower of pale white stone and glass. A sturdy granite wall ringed the structure. Blue lamps gleamed from the windows and the treetops surrounding the tower.
“Healing can be had in Tower Aerilpé,” murmured Kiril. “Also, Lord Ilsevele has shown sympathy to the Keepers of the Cerulean Sign in the past. Now that the nilshai are unmasked as agents of the Traitor … everyone needs to know.”
They followed the path down the silvered slopes of the grassy hillside, crossed a river on a bridge of luminous stone, and stood before the mithral gates piercing the wall surrounding the tower. The gates were closed, and in the high weeds that had sprung up around the entrance, they found the rotting bodies of the half-dozen elf guards, still in knee-length hauberks of white scaled armor. All were missing their eyes.
Kiril’s hands tightened into fists as she looked at the slaughter. But all she said was, “I was wrong—we have no time.”
Stardeep Page 20