Free Stardeep by Bruce R. Cordell Page B

manifested as a physical object. Over this, Nangulis and I fought, but time was short, our plight desperate. I know not how he convinced me; it would happen differently now if I had it to do over. But in the end, the Blade Cerulean was forged, and Nangulis, what remained of him, emerged from the process as unyielding steel.”
    “Incredible.”
    “And so I took up this new weapon, untested, its essence vibrating with he who I couldn’t yet believe was gone. I took up Nangulis, renamed Angul, and with him, battled the Traitor to a standstill, though his vile tricks nearly killed me. We beat him, battered him, schooled him in the ways of Righteousness… and returned the dung-eating bastard to the nadir of the Well, Stardeep’s most secure prison.”
    “If you overcame the Traitor, why didn’t you just kill him? Seems like a lot of trouble to keep him alive.”
    “If it were only that simple, Stardeep wouldn’t have been built in the first place.”
    “Oh? Some sort of elf law against killing your own?”
    Kiril snorted and shook her head. She said, “His death would be a clarion call to the very creatures we do not wish disturbed. Left to his own devices, he would have induced them to rise. Killed, his flaring, dissipating essence would signal the first day of a renewed colonization. The Traitor is
    more abomination than man; he’s their highest high priest. So we keep him safe.”
    “He doesn’t try to starve himself to death down there?”
    “When he signed his soul over to the Abolethic Sovereignty, his mortal needs were erased. He cannot die merely through neglect.”
    Gage blinked. “I need a drink.” He stood, walked to the doot, and yelled into the hubbub of the common room, “Two ales!”
    A drink sounded like a first-class idea to Kiril, too. She remained silent until the flagons wete delivered, and Gage refrained from plying her with more questions until they’d both had a chance to sample the brew. Not especially good. She took another swallow. She needed it if she was going to tell Gage the whole story to its awful conclusion.
    Gage said, “You must really miss him. Nangulis, as he was, I mean.” He waved at the sword on the table.
    “You still don’t know it all,” Kiril declared, then she fell silent again.
    Gage waited her out.
    Finally, the elf continued. “You’ve held Angul. So you know the ovetwhelming nature of his personality. When you wield the Blade Cerulean, remaining in possession of your own thoughts is difficult. Everything seems decided already, and Angul believes himself the final arbiter. Frankly, I can’t believe you resisted running through everyone in that bar. Angul would see them all as dissolute wastrels crying out for his special loving attention.”
    “Only because I made a deal with it—him—before I picked him up. The second time, anyway. The fitst time, he ignited one of my gauntlets.” Gage raised his left hand, red and blistered, and flexed it. Pain flitted across his face.
    “He’s that way, now,” sighed Kiril. “Punishing. He doesn’t like that I’ve discovered ways to tempet his influence. He
    wants total control—he believes such is his right. But I wasn’t always so resourceful. Nor did I see a need to be. Angul seduced me to his will by being in some ways identical to Nangulis.”
    Gage nodded. “I sensed he was trying to take over my mind.”
    “After the Traitor was remanded back to Stardeep’s most secure dungeon cell, I stayed as the Keeper as I had been, now wielding Angul. I spent most days in constant contact with the blade, so I could mingle with his sense of certainty, what I thought was his glorious revealed knowledge. His absolute distinction between good and evil. While I was out on patrol one day, that distinction fell on the wrong side of the dividing line.”
    When Kiril’s pause threatened to become a full stop, the thief asked, “What do you mean?”
    “I mean Angul decided that a group of unruly children who had wandered