"What—" began Kiril. A scream of tornadic wind drowned out the rest of her question, but also served as an answer.
All the fury of a summer storm was squeezed into a space that was orders of magnitude too small for it, pouring from the side tunnel to the golems' left. Sight and sound were instantly shrouded in electric streamers of white and gray. The roar was a physical thing, pushing back Kiril and Telarian. Their hair and the steeds' manes blew straight back, attempting to flee the lightning-laced vortex. Kiril backed her mount a few paces, though Telarian held his ground, his arms out, his words lost in the howl.
Finally, the storm issued out of the chamber through a tunnel on the opposite side.
The clearing air revealed eroded stone, blackened marks where lightning scoured the walls, and of the free-running defenders, no sign. The righthand passage echoed with the sound of fleeing winds, growing fainter and fainter in the distance.
Kiril worked her mouth, as if to relieve pressure felt when descending a mountain, and said, "A nice trick." She sat back in the saddle.
Telarian relinquished his grip on Nis's hilt, took a shaky breath, and nodded. "Lucky for the golems they are soulless artifacts."
"Why so?"
"Else it would have blown their spirits clear of the flesh."
Kiril's brow furrowed. "That smacks of necromancy."
"Kiril, as you know more than most, evildoers should not be spared their owed punishment."
"Where do souls taken go?"
"The wind bears the souls for eternity across all the planes of existence. When you hear the 'cries of the wind,' you may be hearing the voices of those who already enjoy such redemption."
The swordswoman's mouth hardened into a thin line. She'd killed innocents, to be sure, but those wrongly slain by Angul's too-swift judgment were free of further consequence. What Telarian described sounded too cruel for any but aberrations, whose souls were unclean. She hoped he would never use such a thing on a live creature. But as he said, the golems didn't suffer so.
Kiril asked, "Where did you learn such a bastardly curse? Such spells do not lie within the constraints of the Cerulean Sign."
"Are you then a spellcaster?" Telarian snapped back, his gaiety suddenly evaporated in cold venom.
She bit back the attack that teetered on her lips. Instead of calling him a vomit-stained cholera carrier who didn't know his arse from his face, she said, "We'll discuss this later, after I spit Delphe on Angul's unforgiving tip."
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."