Free Stardeep by Bruce R. Cordell Page A

hear this or not?” She tensed as if to stand.
    “No, please—I apologize,” said the thief, leaning forward, suddenly conciliatoty. “I didn’t realize your story was going to have such… cosmic… size to it.”
    Kiril said, “I need to say this. Believe it or don’t.”
    “I do believe it, and I want you to go on—I saved your sword, didn’t I? I have a big intetest in this.”
    The elf nodded. She leaned back in her seat and continued. “So, these vanished defenders and their Sign, while mostly effective, weren’t completely successful. Monstrosities slipped into the world, some openly, others less so. Most are hidden away, yet remain terrors to those who find them in the dark below the surface. You’ve heard of aboleths?”
    “Aboleths are the abominations?”
    “Yes—well, related to the originals. Far worse tried to openly colonize reality. They failed, yet they retain a foothold even after all these eons. There’s always a chance they’ll rise as one from their ancient strongholds. But that prospect is not unopposed. Once, I guarded against the possibility.”
    “You did?”
    “Blood, yes! Don’t sound so surprised. I told you I was not always as I seem now. Once I had a civil tongue.” Kiril laughed.
    “I was a Keeper of the Cerulean Sign—one of a small group of guardians loyal to the ancient knowledge. We nurtured comprehension of the Sign, so that primeval aberrations are opposed whenever they stir.”
    “And do they? Stir, I mean?”
    “They do. Mostly by proxy—they send nightmares that insinuate dteams, hollow hearts, and madden minds. Sometimes, theif influence finds particularly susceptible,
    “•but powerful mortals. If the seduction goes to completion, a priest of the old ones is born, a priest whose single self-proclaimed duty is to call the oldest abominations forth into the light of day. A priest pledged to call forth apocalypse. A twisted bastard who wants nothing more than to stand laughing amidst the ashes of reality.”
    “Akadi’s tricky fingers!” exclaimed Gage.
    Kiril nodded, agreeing with the man’s sentiment. She cleared her throat. “In a hidden realm where elves dwell, within the Yuirwood, a man succumbed to this vety seduction. He was branded the Traitor, and he was locked away in a dungeon forever. The name of that dungeon is Stardeep—”
    Kiril paused, noting Gage’s sharp intake of breath. “What is it?”
    “I’ll tell you when you’ve finished. Don’t inteirupt your story—the name sounded familiar, is all.”
    “All right… so anyhow, up until ten years ago, I was a warden there—in Stardeep. So was Nangulis. We served together for five years in that role, but knew each other even before that.”
    Gage cupped his chin in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He asked, “What happened—did the Traitor get out? Is that why you’re… so sad and disillusioned?”
    “Yes, he escaped. When he got out, he assumed a mantle of abominable power, becoming seemingly invincible. Things seemed bleak but Cynosure told us of one last fail-safe…”
    “Cynosure?”
    She frowned at the interruption and said, “Cynosure is a sentient idol whose mind lives throughout Stardeep. The idol commands embedded sorceries throughout the dungeon. For instance, he can teleport willing Keepers from place to place.”
    “Really? That’s incredible… uh, sorry, never mind. You found a fail-safe, you said?”
    “Nangulis and I, along with the mind of the fortress, called upon ancient Cerulean lore to fashion a weapon potent against all evil, a weapon whose righteousness would be especially effective against aberrations, as well as the Traitor who wielded their abilities.”
    Kiril ran her hand down Angul’s sheath. “But the creation of such an effective weapon was not possible without sacrifice. To create the weapon, we required the willing contribution of a living, purified soul. All the goodly, just, righteous aspects of a soul, which would be tfansformed and