Prince of Lies - James Lowder [76]
"I will end this chaos," Kelemvor whispered, over and over. "I will not allow them to undo the rule of law and reason in the universe."
There are some who would see that as a noble enough sentiment," Godsbane purred, "but I think it's a rather pointless vow, my love. Law and chaos are meaningless, when you come right down to it. They always balance each other in the end."
The soft, feminine voice came to him clearly, even over the shrieks of the shades and denizens trapped inside the sword.
"Still," Godsbane added, "once we topple Cyric, you can tell yourself you've fulfilled your promise. Overthrowing a madman like him is always a victory for law and order – at least for a time."
Kel opened his eyes. The spirit of a mantis-headed denizen sped past, warped and twisted on a flowing stream of energy. "Don't think I mean to stop at Cyric," Kelemvor muttered. "You've kept me prisoner for a decade. I'll have justice for that, too."
"You're hardly in any position to threaten," the sword replied, full of mock indignation. "Besides, I've kept you safe and sound. You'd have gone straight to the City ofStrifeif I hadn't captured your soul that day atopBlackstaffTower. Then where would you be?"
"I'll askMidnightto keep that in mind after you hand me over to her," Kel murmured. His heart ached at the sight of the tortured faces with their wide, pleading eyes. The helplessness he felt at their suffering burned in his chest like a poisoned dirk.
"Our goals really are the same," the sword said smoothly. "You want Cyric to pay for killing you. I want him to suffer for trying to break my will after he stole me from that halfling village."
Kelemvor remained obstinately silent. Finally Godsbane spoke again: "I need you as the proverbial carrot at the end of the stick, my love, but once I bring the Lady of Mysteries into my band of conspirators, your usefulness may come to an abrupt end. If you continue to bluster, I may find it necessary to destroy you."
To prove her power, the sword snuffed out the souls she had gathered in the battle on the banks of the Slith. Gods-bane had explained once that she could transfer this stolen life essence to her wielder, store it, or simply drink it in herself. What the treacherous blade had never revealed was how she had kept Kelemvor shielded from Cyric's prying mind for all those years. When Godsbane contacted her master, Kel could feel the death god's malevolence all around him, yet Cyric remained unaware of his presence.
Godsbane's cool, sensuous voice filled the sudden silence. "Let me offer you a little present," she cooed. "Just to prove there are no hard feelings."
The imaginary prison walls Kelemvor had marked for himself became real, just as he had set them in his mind. A floor slid into place, and a ceiling, both with the feel of badly set stone. The place even smelled like a Sembian jail in which Kel had spent a month: all stale water and damp, musty earth. A mangy rat peeked out from a hole in the corner. Roaches scrambled around a thin stream of water that meandered from one high, lightless window all the way to the floor.
"There, now," the sword said proudly. "Those poor souls gave their all for this place. Chaos into order. You should be pleased…"
A woman appeared in the cell with Kelemvor, lithe and young and very beautiful. Her long raven-black hair and pale skin made her resemble Midnight just enough to stir Kel's interest, but not so much that he immediately turned away from her as an impostor. "I could offer my apologies in other ways," the woman said, her husky voice full of promised