Gage leaped up onto the log, then off again before the maul splintered down. The log broke into two pieces under the mighty blow.
When he'd defeated Stolsin last time, he'd been wielding Angul.
A slender thread of worry burrowed up to pierce Gage's confidence. The thing had already tagged him twice unanswered, and was forcing him to flee with an unholy energy born beyond the grave.
Another shuddering of the light behind the walking corpse let him know Kiril remained in the fight. Whether succeeding or failing, he didn't divide his attention to ascertain. Stolsin battered the log a few times with its maul, but even its damped brain recognized that smashing through the obstruction, as satisfying as such destruction might be, paled before the opportunity to pulp the thief. The creature made an awkward jump onto the log, crudely aping Gage's agile leap.
Gage swung his dagger in a wide arc, encountering resistance mid-swing. Stolsin's foot and lower calf parted from the rest of its body. The undead crashed sidewise onto the log, groaning as it impacted. It rolled off the other side.
Gage grinned and looked over to see where the monster had landed. The maul caught him on the side of the head.
Whispered exhortations sheathed in gloom poured from Sathra's outstretched fingers and enveloped Kiril and her blade. Within the midnight embrace, cold prickled Kiril's skin from a hundred wraithlike hands, growing from merely unpleasant to life-sucking agony in moments. The elf screamed. Where in the Hells was Angul's balm? Didn't she yet hold the blade? His flame was hardly visible in this tumbling dark, but his presence yet touched her consciousness.
'Help me, damn your blunt edges!'
The blade, dulled and cold, trembled at her words. Strength continued to pour from her exposed skin into the murmuring clutch of dead shades. Why wasn't he helping her?
'I'm dying, you rusted reject from a halfling's smithy! I-'
The sword trembled again, as if straining. . then ignited with cerulean incandescence. He pulled power from a source that had always seemed inexhaustible. Whether that strength had its origin within Angul himself, or in some external font of moral power, Kiril had never before wondered. The sword was always equal to every task, capable of keeping its wielder alive no matter the threat.
Was Sathra's power of shadow inimical to Angul, or was he, after all these years, drawing to the end of his enchanted lifespan?
Angul's certainty sought to whelm in her once more, becoming the balm she'd fought to hold herself aloof from during the last decade. Her newfound doubt about the weapon's longevity transformed her usual sentiment of dread to relief. The blade was still up to its old tricks. She wanted-
No, she needed to ask Sathra about Nangulis! But that desire was washed away in Angul's all-encompassing belief that nothing he-and by extension his wielder-did required explanation.
The necromancer's shadowy influence burned away in blue celestial fire, revealing the light of day and a surprised-looking Sathra. Kiril stood up where the necromancer's last blast had flung her. She intoned Angul's words. 'Suffer not abomination, nor she who gives up her soul to evil.'
Kiril sprinted back up the slope, her sword's fire pumping her limbs with boundless energy.
Sathra spoke anew, her voice a series of unfathomable vocalizations that smoked into reality, her hands frantically waving in rhythm with the foul syllables. Kiril recognized enough spellcasting to identify the cadence of a magical escape.
Sathra wasn't quick enough.
The career of the most-feared crime lord of Laothkund ended in the snowy eaves of the Yuirwood.
An interminable sea of discomfort slowly focused, finally shrinking to the size of his skull. Dull throbs, the stings of scrapes and cuts, and three sharp pinches told him the position of his body; he lay in a splayed posture, facedown on a hard surface. He tasted dirt and bark in his mouth.
He yet lived! Gage throttled his first instinct to groan. Better not to reveal that life hadn't fully departed if enemies lurked nearby. He opened one eye the merest slit to reconnoiter the situation.
Stolsin lay not far from him, cut into three or four bloodless pieces. Closer stood Kiril, tending a small fire. Her pet construct perched on her shoulder. He sucked in his breath when he recalled his last few conscious moments. The elf's head turned. She gazed at him, one eyebrow going up in speculation. She said, 'You awake?'
Gage considered. Better not to dissemble, just in case. He let out a loud groan and let his eyes flutter open. When the pain redoubled, he realized he wouldn't have to put up much of an act.
'What happened? That damn walking corpse clipped me with his hammer. Last thing I remember.' He levered himself up so his back was supported by a log. A very familiar log. A log much the worse for wear. He'd be happy to see the last of it.
'I'll tell you what happened. A whore came out of nowhere and tried to kill me-which is pretty flecking odd since you told me Sathra was dead!' Kiril moved until she stood a foot from Gage, her eyes narrowed and wild. Xet flew up from her shoulder, chiming a rebuke at her sudden movement.
The thief held up his left hand. 'Hold on! You think I lied to you? I thought Sathra was dead-I left her as good as. How could I know someone would pull her out of the sewer and fix her up?' It was as compelling a scenario as he could invent on the spot. He was good at it, but would the enraged elf buy his story? More importantly. .
'Did you ask her the questions you wanted, Kiril?' Gage asked, anxiety straining his faked credulity. 'Did you ask about Nangulis?'
The elf clenched both her fists, neither of which, luckily, was wrapped around her sword. She yelled, 'Blood, no!' and slammed a fist down on the log next to Gage. He winced despite himself.
The swordswoman took a deep breath, visibly getting hold of herself. She continued. 'No, she came upon me too strong. The only way I could stand against her was to kill her. That, and Angul got the better of me.'
'Yeah,' agreed Gage, 'I know how that goes.' He watched her clench her fists and eyes, her mouth a tight line, as she decided to believe his story. He relaxed fractionally.
The fact was, he was having second thoughts about his involvement. How could he have known, when he agreed to steal the blade, that Angul was far more than a simple piece of enchanted steel? How could he have known the sword was Kiril's entire reason for living?
Gage had committed petty larceny, and not-so-petty larceny, from the vaults of the fabulously rich and probably crooked. He had killed, but only those whose hands were stained with years of evil-he'd never knowingly cut the life from an innocent. By his own lights, he was a moral person, one whose skills allowed him to tread the edges of the law, but one whose actions, in the balance, wouldn't endanger his soul's final destination.
He didn't spend all his money on whores and hounds, as did some of his companions, nor did he use his strengths to take advantage of the weak and credulous.
In short, Gage didn't think of himself as a bad guy. Which was an image he found increasingly under siege as he continued supporting the facade he'd created to interact with Kiril…
He shivered and put the unpleasant topic from his mind. He'd deal with the ramifications of his actions soon enough. Not a strategy most people would recommend for success, but one that had served him well enough in the past. Him, but rarely those around him.
'So, what now?' he ventured.
'Now we get you fixed up and continue to Stardeep. We're not far from the Causeway. I'll have my answers soon.'
Gage almost told her the truth then. Instead, he nodded and said, 'First, let me collect my daggers. Wouldn't want to run low later.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Aglarond, City of Emmech
