Finder's Bane Page 15

  Joel wondered if it would be worth the risk to simply jump the woman and wrestle the stone from her hand. He looked again at the darkened doorway and decided it would probably be most unwise.

  “You and Poppin are very alike,” Walinda said. “I will look forward to subduing Finder’s priests if they are all like the two of you. You are really quite remarkable.”

  “It’s true,” Jedidiah said with an arrogant smile. “But you are remarkable as well. The hierarchy of the Black Lord’s church was never known for encouraging the ambitions of women, not even talented ones. Yet Joel tells me you are a Dreadmaster. Did you earn your title before or after Torm turned your god into so much dog food?”

  Walinda glowered at Jedidiah, but she didn’t react to his goads. “The Black Lord named me to his priesthood himself, before the Time of Troubles,” the priestess replied proudly. “After the Black Lord was killed in combat, I remained faithful, knowing that our lord would rise again. The night before the Cyricists began the Banedeath, destroying any true followers of Bane who would not convert to Cyric, a voice spoke to me. The voice warned me of what was to come and decreed what action I should take. I gathered those who were most faithful to Bane and led them away from Zhentil Keep. We traveled until we reached the Spiderhaunt Woods. There, in a cave, my lord’s spirit was waiting for his true followers.

  “When his avatar died in the Time of Troubles, Lord Bane’s spirit hid in that cave. We fed his spirit with our worship. Two weeks ago, the spirit brought down this ship from the sky, and we took possession of it in Bane’s name. The spirit took command of the ship, and we journeyed north to the Temple in the Sky. In the temple, which was once dedicated to Lord Bane, there were buried secrets that Lord Bane would need to regain his former power and glory. The price was high.…”

  “Yes. Joel already told me how you paid for it. What secret could be so important that it was worth the lives of all those faithful people?” Jedidiah asked scornfully.

  “The location of the Hand of Bane,” Walinda said.

  “The Hand of Bane,” Jedidiah repeated.

  “Yes. Its location has been hidden for centuries, yet I was able to find it.” Walinda held up the sheets of paper she’d removed from the book in the Temple in the Sky. The edges were scabbed over with dried blood. “So my followers died for a great cause.”

  Jedidiah leaned forward. “Why would Bane need you to locate the Hand of Bane?” the old priest asked.

  “You do not know?” Walinda asked. “Allow me to explain. You will find this very interesting, Poppin,” she said, smiling up at Joel. “Gods are made of many elements. They have a physical body and mind. Torm slew my lord Bane’s body, but it still exists. It floats in the astral plane beside the bodies of other long-dead gods. Gods also possess an essence—a personality, a spirit that binds them to their followers. They also possess power—huge amounts of raw energy, beyond the ken of mortals. If a god is destroyed, his followers can perform a complicated ritual to bind together these elements—body, essence, and power—and resurrect the god. Some gods have the wisdom to create a magical artifact that will make the ritual simpler and more efficient, so that its performance does not require a year’s time, or hundreds of followers, or the blood sacrifice of a thousand innocent beings.”

  “And the Hand of Bane is such an artifact,” Joel guessed.

  Walinda nodded. “Your student is very apt,” she complimented Jedidiah. “Now you understand my sacrifice. With the Hand of Bane in my possession, I can return my lord to his rightful place as a god of the Realms.”

  Jedidiah waved a hand, as if to brush aside Walinda’s comments. “You misunderstood my question entirely. I did not ask why Bane would want you to recover the Hand of Bane. I asked why Bane needed you to locate it for him. Didn’t the old boy remember where he’d put it? Getting senile in his death, is he?”

  Walinda raised her head proudly. “Bane is not a simple god like your Finder. His plans are subtle and complex. Centuries ago he gave the hand to a loyal priest in the Temple in the Sky to hide where no god, not even Ao, could steal it. The priest was charged to keep the location of the hand a secret. On his deathbed, on Bane’s orders, the priest passed the information on to his successor. So it continued for centuries. When the beast cult took over the floating rock, the last priest hid in a secret temple and wrote down all the secrets in his keeping, so that Lord Bane might send me to discover the Hand of Bane when it was needed.”

  Jedidiah laughed heartily for a moment. “A good story,” he said. “I was beginning to think you had fallen prey to some elaborate ruse of Iyachtu Xvim, but now I realize it must be Cyric behind all this. A lie that good could only be his.”

  “It is not a lie!” Walinda snapped, clenching the finder’s stone as if she might crush it.

  “Of course, Cyric and Xvim could be in it together,” Jedidiah commented. He looked back up at the enraged Walinda and said, “Think for a moment, woman. Bane is dead. Iyachtu and Cyric both have an interest in seeing that he stays dead for all eternity. They want to be sure the Hand of Bane is destroyed, but first they’ve got to find it. They need someone who might know where to look. They look around for a likely target, and there you are, stubbornly persevering in your faith in Bane, keeping his faithful from worshiping either the Godson or the mad god. You’ve been a thorn in their side. They will have vengeance on you for defying them by getting you to give them the hand.

  “Cyric, using Bane’s voice, warns you to leave Zhentil Keep. He keeps you on hold for a few years while he launches a few other plans. Then he says it’s time to find the Hand of Bane. You’ve probably heard a rumor of it, or maybe the Godson knew something about his father’s faithful in the Temple in the Sky. As an added bonus, Iyachtu gets to eat the souls of your followers. Of course, both gods will keep you in the dark until you’ve handed them the hand. Then they can tell you that you were the one to betray Lord Bane to them.”

  “It is not true,” Walinda growled, rising angrily to her feet. “Do you think I would mistake an imposter for my lord’s voice? Never! It was Lord Bane who spoke to me.”

  Joel noted how Jedidiah’s eyes followed the finder’s stone. The priestess now seemed so overwrought that the Rebel Bard had just made up his mind to rush her and try to grab the stone.

  From the darkened doorway of the cabin, a raspy, dark, sepulchral voice spoke. “Cease your whining, fool woman. Can’t you see the old priest is only goading you?”

  Whoever had spoken remained hidden in the shadows, but Joel could sense that something very evil and very powerful had come onto the deck. Suddenly the bard completely lost his nerve. A wave of nausea and vertigo swept through him, nearly knocking him down. A cold pang of fear lanced through him, paralyzing him. Then despair settled on his heart, a despair so heavy that tears welled in the young man’s eyes.

  Joel looked at the other members of his party to see their reaction to the evil presence. Jas was crouched in a fetal position, her wings covering her body. Holly’s face was twisted in fear, and yet the paladin was trying to stand. Her struggle was short and in vain. She fell to her knees, pressing her hands to her temples.

  Jedidiah, however, didn’t seem to mind the presence, except to wrinkle his nose as if he’d smelled something unpleasant. He stood tall and straight, like a mast in a storm. Joel took a deep breath and steadied himself. If Jedidiah could stand up to this assault, he wouldn’t let the old priest down. The Rebel Bard forced himself to peer into the shadows inside the cabin door.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows. It stood upright, taller than the average man, wearing a chest plate of black armor polished to a mirrorlike finish and engraved with the symbol of Bane in blood-red filigree. The figure’s broad shoulders were covered with huge spiked plates, which made the creature seem even more massive. Its arms and legs were covered with black fabric, which in turn was covered with fine scales, as supple as a black dragon’s hide. A red cape fluttered behind the figure.

  The body ben
eath the armor was even more alarming. The creature, Joel realized, had to be some sort of undead thing. Its skin was as creased as a crumpled piece of paper, yellowed with age and so translucent that brown bone showed from beneath the skin. The flesh around its mouth had worn away, leaving tatters of skin about the creature’s brown teeth. Its tongue was black. The sagging flesh of each of its cheeks bore a tattoo of a red lightning bolt. Where its eyes should have been were deep wells with a glimmering white ember of undead hatred at the bottom of each. Dry shoots of white hair sprouted from its mostly bald head. Sparkling on its brow was a white diamond as large as a fingernail.

  “I am the essence of Bane,” the creature said, its voice creaking like the iron gate of a crypt. “See me and fear me.”

  Joel flinched at the voice, while Holly covered her ears. Beneath her wings, Jas shuddered. Jedidiah bowed and said, “Greetings, Bane. You’re not looking so lively, even for an essence. I was wondering if you were going to show yourself.”

  The creature gave a sharp, barking laugh and lurched forward. “You aren’t looking quite yourself, either, priest of Finder,” it said.

  Jedidiah frowned and his brow furrowed.

  The creature strode forward, and Walinda rose and stepped away from the chair. The creature reached out, and Walinda handed it the finder’s stone. All the while, Joel noted, the priestess kept her head bowed and never raised it to look at the creature. The thing that claimed to be the essence of Bane sat down in the chair.

  “I thought,” the creature said, “to let my slave handle these negotiations. Once I realized who you were, however, I knew it would require someone with more skill to bargain with you. We will talk as one being of power to another.”

  “I’ll be prepared to talk,” Jedidiah replied, “when you stop painwracking my companions with your petty magic.”

  “It has always been my practice to begin my dealing from a position of strength, but if it will put you more at ease …” The creature shrugged.

  Joel felt his fear and despair subside like an ocean tide. Holly was able to rise to her feet. Jas stirred beneath her wings and looked out at the creature with disgust.

  “You’ve been duped, Walinda of Bane,” Jedidiah said. “This isn’t the spirit of Bane. It’s a banelich, a former High Imperceptor of the church, made undead by Bane—a little gift Bane used to give to his most groveling mortal yes-men. They go a little mad when they realize there is no greater power in death than there was in their pathetic lives. This one obviously has delusions of grandeur.”

  Walinda didn’t look up at Jedidiah. Instead, she remained beside the creature with her head bowed.

  “You are half right, priest of Finder,” the creature said. “Centuries ago I was made a banelich by Lord Bane. Since the Time of Troubles, however, I have been much more. When Torm slew Bane, my god’s spirit chose to honor me by housing itself in my form. I hold his personality, his ego, his essence. I can even grant this slave her clerical spells. I am now, for all intents and purposes, Bane.”

  “What do you want from us?” Joel demanded, his patience with this horror wearing thin.

  “Ah, well. It is only fitting that my slave”—he waved his hand in Walinda’s direction—“should have slaves of her own. It is also practical. Loyal though she is, the tasks I must set for her may be beyond her powers. I thought to reward her with slaves who would amuse her”—the banelich motioned with his hand to indicate Joel—“as well as those who would be useful,” he added, waving his hand at Jedidiah, Holly, and Jas.

  Walinda raised her head a fraction of an inch and met the young bard’s look with a sly smile. Joel felt a flush rise to his face.

  Holly stepped forward in front of Joel and declared hotly, “We are not slaves, and we will never serve such as you!”

  “How bravely you speak, little paladin of Lathander,” the banelich said with a gravely chuckle. “But how little you know. This one,” he said, pointing at Jedidiah, “would do anything to regain the finder’s stone. And this one,” he said, pointing to Joel, “will do anything to help him. He may even find serving my slave pleasurable.”

  Joel caught Walinda watching him again, and he turned away, fixing his eyes firmly on Jedidiah.

  “We’ll perform a service in exchange for the finder’s stone, but we will not serve you or yours,” Jedidiah said sharply. “I presume the task you had in mind is retrieving the Hand of Bane.”

  The banelich nodded. “Naturally. You are familiar with some of the other planes, the homes of the gods and the tanar’ri and the archons. The outer planes share a common ground known as the Outlands. The hand of Bane is—”

  “In Sigil,” Jedidiah interrupted. “The Hub of the Universe, the Cage, City of Doors, Place of Mazes.”

  “You are every bit as clever as your reputation,” the banelich said, its undead voice revealing the tiniest hint of surprise.

  “Walinda said it was in a place where no god could steal it,” Jedidiah explained. “That pretty much defines Sigil, doesn’t it?”

  The banelich nodded. “You will fetch for me the Hand of Bane. Then I will reward you with this bauble,” he said, holding the finder’s stone aloft in a skeletal hand. With that, the creature rose and walked back toward the darkness of the cabin.

  Jedidiah stepped forward and called out, “Banelich!”

  The banelich turned, and Joel felt the bottom drop out of his stomach again. The creature’s hatred was so oppressive Joel’s joints ached from trying to stand, and he had trouble breathing. He heard Holly whimper and Jas growl.

  “Yes?” the banelich asked.

  “When I fetch the Hand of Bane,” Jedidiah said, “it will be for myself. I’ll exchange it for the finder’s stone.”

  The banelich pulled the tatters of its flesh back into a smile. It nodded in agreement to the subtle change Jedidiah had made to the wording of their bargain. Then it turned back to the door and disappeared into the cabin.

  Joel breathed with relief when the weight of the creature’s stare had been removed.

  Walinda sat once again in the chair. “It is so good to have you aboard, Poppin,” she said smiling at Joel. “And the rest of you as well,” she added, her eyes settling maliciously on Jas.

  “We will use this ship to fly over the Desertsmouth Mountains and into the Great Desert, Anauroch,” the priestess informed them. “Buried under the sand are the ruins of the fabled kingdom of Netheril. There, among the debris of one of their ruined citadels, is a gate to the Outlands, the shared land of the outer planes. Our goal, the city of Sigil, rises from the center of the Outlands.”

  “The gate you speak of is called Cat’s Gate. I know the place,” Jedidiah said. “You can drop us off at the mouth of the River Ashaba. We’ll meet you at Cat’s Gate four days hence.”

  “You will go with me to Netheril now,” Walinda declared.

  Jedidiah strode behind the chair and leaned over the priestess’s shoulder. “Tell me, slave, can you surrender power and still wield it?” he asked sharply.

  “No,” Walinda replied automatically. She looked up, startled, at the old priest. “So you are acquainted with some of the tenets of my faith. What does that prove? You will still accompany me to Cat’s Gate forthwith.”

  Jedidiah leaned in close to the priestess’s ear and whispered, “When you held the finder’s stone, you wielded power. But you surrendered that power to the disgusting monster you see fit to worship. Since it holds the finder’s stone, I made my deal with it. I will recover the Hand of Bane because I must have the finder’s stone back. If you want to help—and reap some of that abomination’s gratitude—you will meet me at the gate. In the meantime, I will escort my friends to a place of safety where we can rest comfortably before the journey and I can gather together such items as we will need to find the Hand of Bane.”

  Jedidiah strode over to the ship’s railing. “In any case, there is no way you can hold us against our will … unless you were to call on the banelich to aid you.”


  Walinda glared at the older priest, and Joel realized what Jedidiah must have already known: Walinda did not dare give the appearance of being weak before the banelich. The priestess shrugged and said, “There is no need to get off at the River Ashaba. This ship can carry you to the Lost Vale. That is where you’re headed, isn’t it?”

  Jedidiah chuckled. “I’m not about to reveal the location of the Lost Vale to you, my dear. Finder has a temple there, and your god has a reputation of being a rude guest in other gods’ temples. And after having been enslaved by Moander, the inhabitants of the vale would prefer to avoid the attentions of any more evil gods.”

  “I will discover it when I fly over the mountains,” Walinda said with a shrug.

  “You can try,” Jedidiah said with a grin.

  Joel nodded. The old priest had already explained to him that one could not find the Lost Vale by searching. It had to be entered magically.

  “You’d best go inform your lord of our plans,” Jedidiah told Walinda, “so he can set course accordingly. Due south of here should be perfect.”

  Walinda rose. “I will do so.” She gave Joel a knowing smile, then went into the cabin.

  After a few moments, the ship rose, then began to move southward so smoothly it felt as if they were on a raft adrift in a smooth-flowing river.

  Joel joined Jedidiah at the ship’s rail. They stared down at the bluff below them and watched the flames of their former campfire recede. “If the banelich is undead,” the Rebel Bard asked in a whisper, “can’t you destroy it or send it away with a prayer like you did with the skeletons and zombies?”

  Jedidiah shook his head. “Walinda has consecrated this vessel to Bane. That makes it the banelich’s turf. If I had the power that I put in the finder’s stone, I might have taken the banelich in combat. Of course, if I had that power, the banelich wouldn’t have come near me. It must have been watching us, and when it saw me pouring power into the stone, it seized its chance. That cloak Walinda has—the one that shielded you from the beholder’s sight in the Temple in the Sky—she must have been wearing that. I didn’t feel her stealing the stone, but I remember smelling her—the perfume in her hair. If I hadn’t been concentrating on turning the undead, I think I would have detected her. At any rate, we could fight the banelich, but there’s no guarantee we’d all come out alive, and there’s a good chance the finder’s stone would be destroyed in the banelich’s death throes. I’m sorry, Joel, but I just can’t risk it.”