by Kate Novak
Something swooped down out of the sun, over the ship, and dropped two glittering flasks, which shattered on the banelich’s chest plate. As Joel’s eyes followed the creature, it pulled up and circled about with a flurry of pink wings.
“Jas!” he gasped.
The banelich howled, and curls of black smoke wafted up from beneath its armor. The creature staggered and dropped to one knee.
Joel looked to Jedidiah.
“Great. Just great,” the god muttered. He looked around at Holly. The paladin flashed him a wolfish grin.
“What is it?” Joel whispered to Jedidiah. “Acid?”
“My guess is holy water,” the older man whispered. “What happened to your promise not to do anything rash?” he growled at Holly.
“You knew she was coming?” Joel asked Holly.
“After Jas hits the lich with her second batch of holy water, we can attack,” the paladin said, her hand gripping the hilt of her cutlass.
Jas swooped for a second attack. On the deck of the spelljammer, Walinda rushed to the banelich’s side. The creature snarled and backhanded her. Walinda staggered backward. The banelich pulled itself upright and raised both its arms toward the winged woman.
The banelich began chanting harsh words in an ancient tongue. Black flame sprang from its hands and arced upward. Just as Jas released two more flasks, the banelich’s missiles slammed into her diving form. Jas screamed, a bone-chilling, inhuman cry.
The flasks of holy water hit their mark again, one on the banelich’s shoulder, the other on its leg. The banelich howled once more, but its cry was drowned out by the shrieks of the winged woman. Like a burning black serpent, the banelich’s flame wrapped itself about her form as she plunged headfirst into a sand dune.
Jas rolled in the sand, extinguishing the black fire but not the pain. She continued to thrash in agony.
“Kill her!” the smoking banelich demanded. Gripping her silver goad, Walinda leapt from the side of the ship, landing on both feet with the grace of an acrobat.
Her cutlass drawn and raised, Holly interposed herself between the priestess and the winged woman. Startled, the priestess pulled back. Wounded as she was, Walinda must have known she was no match for the holy warrior.
“You!” the banelich screeched at the paladin. “This water stinks of Lathander. This is your doing.” He raised his arms in Holly’s direction and began barking out the words to summon the black flames again.
“No!” Joel shouted, throwing himself in front of the paladin, determined to protect her.
The banelich halted. Fire danced in his hands, but he did not hurl it forward. “Tell your priest to move,” he ordered Jedidiah, “or his life will be forfeit, too.”
“Joel,” Jedidiah implored, “back away.”
Joel looked at his god with shock. “I can’t let them kill Holly,” he insisted. “Or Jas either.”
“Jas and Holly started this,” Jedidiah reminded him. “I don’t want you to pay for their folly. I don’t want you hurt.”
Joel’s eyes narrowed with anger. He recalled Grypht’s parting words that Jedidiah could be reckless and thoughtless. He remembered, too, the saurial wizard’s advice to use his influence to make the god show moderation and consideration.
“Joel!” Jedidiah snapped, his voice rough with warning.
“I’m not moving,” Joel retorted.
Jedidiah’s face clouded with anger.
Joel could picture the scene woven into a tableau someday on a tapestry in the Singing Cave—Jas lying in the sand, Holly poised with her cutlass raised between the winged woman and Walinda with her goad, the banelich standing on the spelljammer with his hands burning, and in the middle, Joel silently begging his angry god to do the right thing—assuming, of course, they lived through the next few moments to tell the tale to Copperbloom.
“I’m calling on you, Jedidiah, to protect us,” the young priest announced.
Then Jedidiah’s face flushed with shame, and Joel understood more than he wanted to about the god’s feelings. Copperbloom had been Finder’s first priestess, but Joel was his chosen priest. The god couldn’t bring himself to refuse the young bard’s prayer. On the other hand, without his power, he was vulnerable. He could lose face just as easily by trying to protect Joel and failing.
Jedidiah, though weak, was not without the resources of his wits. “Bane,” the older priest barked, “end this now, or you will regret it.”
“I do as I wish,” the banelich retorted, his normally low voice rising in amazement. “Your arrogance is remarkable.” He held his finger to the finder’s stone embedded in his forehead. “I can crumble your precious stone with a touch. Or have you forgotten?”
“Then you will have nothing to bargain with when I retrieve the Hand of Bane.”
“The hand for the stone … that was our agreement,” the banelich said. “That does not leave you anything to barter for the lives of these vermin.” He pointed his hands in Holly’s direction.
“I will snap one finger off the Hand of Bane for every death you cause here,” Jedidiah threatened.
The banelich hesitated. Joel could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Five beats later the banelich lowered his hands, and the eldritch flames about them died. “The deaths of these vermin do not concern me,” he said. He looked at Walinda. “Keep a watchful eye on them, slave,” he ordered. He muttered a short, sharp chant and drifted over the railing of the spelljammer and down to the pillars of the gate.
Walinda held her goad at the ready as Jedidiah moved to Jas’s side. The winged woman’s skin was gray and covered with frost. The black flame had obviously been a coldfire missile.
“Keep an eye on her, Joel,” Holly ordered the bard as she hurried to join Jedidiah.
Joel stood before the priestess. He nodded at her injured arm. “Bear do that?” he asked.
“Bear?” the priestess asked.
“The dark stalker you have chained to your bow,” Joel said.
Walinda nodded. “Yes.”
“I could heal it for you,” the bard offered.
The priestess glared at the priest and backed away with a look of feral fear. “My god does not wish the injury healed,” she growled.
“Why not?” Joel demanded angrily.
“This was not the first attack on my god that I failed to prevent. I was not sufficiently watchful. The dark stalker sneaked aboard while I slept and attacked Bane. I wear my wounds as punishment, but they are nothing compared to the loss of my god’s love and approval. I will earn his forgiveness, though. Then he will grant me my spells again and I can heal myself.”
Joel’s stomach churned with disgust and anger. “That thing is a monster!” he said. “How can you remain by its side, let alone worship it?”
Walinda looked at him coolly. “You still do not understand what it means to truly serve your god. You learned nothing in the Lost Vale, did you?”
Joel fought back the urge to correct the priestess. It wouldn’t be wise to let her know that he, too, traveled beside his god, that his god had been prepared to risk his power arguing for the life of his disobedient priest. “Maybe not,” Joel answered the priestess, “but I suspect that Finder would forgive his priests for a little failing like sleeping.” He turned and strode over to where Jedidiah and Holly were healing Jas.
Jedidiah had done all he could. Jas’s skin was no longer so gray, but her breathing was shallow and she moaned in pain. Now Holly was calling on Lathander to help the winged woman. The paladin’s arms glowed rosy pink, and she laid them on Jas’s head, on her face, on her shoulders and arms and chest. Jas began to breathe more evenly, and she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Walinda approached them and peered down at her master’s victim.
Jedidiah stood up, looking drained and tired. “She’ll be all right,” he said to Joel. “She’ll be out for a while. All things considered, that’s probably for the best.”
“The black flaming death of Bane is most efficient,” Walinda said,
a touch of pride creeping into her voice.
Jedidiah harrumphed. “It was a coldfire missile … a standard trick of all baneliches,” he lectured the priestess. “It’s nasty, but not in league with a real god’s power.”
Walinda raised her head proudly. “Delude yourself if you wish, priest. Deny that the living Bane is among you. But still he wields his might!” she declared, pointing with her goad toward the Cat’s Gate.
The banelich hovered in front of the buried gate with its arms raised, chanting in its ancient tongue. The sand about the gate began to heave and roil as hundreds of skeletal forms, the dead from the army of the wizards of Netheril, pulled themselves from the earth. The banelich commanded them to clear the sand from the gate and they began to dig stiffly, using their own skulls to scoop out the sand.
“All praise and glory to mighty Bane!” Walinda whispered, her eyes riveted on the undead at their work.
“Animate dead,” Jedidiah muttered. “Another favorite banelich trick.” He turned to Joel. “Go help Holly move Jas under the tarp,” he ordered. “I’ll keep an eye on this fool woman.”
As Joel turned, Jedidiah put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll have to tell Holly that she’ll have to stay behind. There’s no way the banelich is going to take her aboard after this stunt. But I suspect she knew that.”
Joel nodded. “Thank you for your help,” he said.
Jedidiah shrugged. He wasn’t pleased, but then Joel suspected he would forgive his priest before the banelich forgave Walinda.
Using a cape as a stretcher, Joel helped Holly move Jas up the dune into the tarp shelter. Though a dead weight in her sleep, fortunately the winged woman wasn’t very heavy.
“You knew Jas was coming. You gave her that holy water, didn’t you?” the bard asked the paladin. “How could you? You promised Jedidiah you wouldn’t do anything reckless.”
Holly sighed. “When I visited the shrine to Lathander in the Lost Vale, I had another vision of a sunrise. When I came to, there was the holy water, in four little vials. It was a gift from my god. I showed the vials to Jas. She took them from me while I slept. I didn’t notice they were missing until after she flew off. I didn’t know she planned to follow us and use them.”
“But it was a good bet she would,” Joel said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“She might have succeeded. You saw how the water vaporized the banelich’s flesh. A few more attacks like that might have destroyed the creature.” The paladin looked down on the winged woman with concern and disappointment. “Will she be all right until Grypht gets here?”
“She will if you watch over her,” Joel said. “You’re not coming with us now.”
Holly bristled. “I have to come with you,” she insisted.
“Holly, think. The banelich is never going to agree to your coming after this. It thinks you were responsible for this attack. Jedidiah has used all his influence just to save your life. Besides, Jas needs you. Be reasonable. Please.”
Holly looked down at Jas and brushed the woman’s hair from her forehead. She looked back up at Joel. “You made Jedidiah stand up to the banelich, just as Grypht asked you to do,” she said.
Joel looked down at the ground, unwilling to admit that Jedidiah had not behaved properly without Joel’s urging.
“When Jedidiah has the Hand of Bane, can you make him do the right thing again?” she asked.
Joel shrugged, completely uncertain how far he could push his god, the god he had sworn to serve.
“Will you at least try?” Holly asked.
“I’ll do what I can,” he promised.
When Joel returned to Jedidiah’s side, he found the older priest dragging Bear’s deformed and mutilated body away from the spelljammer. “I convinced the banelich his figurehead might be considered in poor taste in the Outlands,” he explained to the younger bard. “I suggest we cremate the creature.”
Joel nodded. Together he and Jedidiah scavenged pieces of wood from the damaged portions of the spelljammer for a funeral pyre. Joel played a dirge as the former dalesman’s corpse went up in flames. When the flames died out, the two men spread the dark stalker’s ashes on the sand.
Before sunset, the gate was clear. The sight was amazing. Green light shimmered between the pillars, and every so often a bolt of green lightning streaked across the gate.
Joel and Jedidiah went to bid Holly good-bye. Jas was still sleeping. Jedidiah warned Holly, “Don’t try to follow us. You’d never keep up with the spelljammer, and you’d be challenged everywhere you went in the Outlands, possibly even enslaved. It’s not like the dales where you can simply roam where you please.”
“Unless you’re traveling with a banelich?” Holly asked sarcastically.
Jedidiah looked pained, but the paladin put him at his ease. “I’m sorry. I won’t follow you through the gate,” she said. “Take care,” she added. She embraced the older priest.
Jedidiah smiled grimly. “It’s been an honor traveling with you, Holly Harrowslough,” he said and left her alone with his student.
Holly turned to Joel and gave him a quick hug. It occurred to the Rebel Bard that, while she had embraced Jedidiah like a father, she treated him with maidenly modesty. For the first time, the bard thought of her as a pretty girl and not simply a warrior. He smiled shyly and wished her luck. Then he turned to follow Jedidiah down the sand dune.
When Joel and Jedidiah came aboard, the banelich was smiling. It looked exceedingly pleased with itself. Walinda looked at the gate with excitement in her eyes.
“I give you leave to heal my slave’s injuries,” the banelich said to Joel. “If it pleases you,” it added with a smirk. Then it disappeared into the ship’s cabin. The spelljammer rose slowly and began to turn toward the gate.
“Should I heal her arm?” Joel asked Jedidiah in a whisper, uncertain how his god would feel about his offering aid to the priestess of Bane.
“I think that would be a good idea,” Jedidiah said, but he didn’t elaborate.
Joel prayed over Walinda’s bandages. Blue healing energy flowed from his hands over the priestess’s arm. Carefully he unwrapped the bandages. The healing was perfect. The skin on the priestess’s arm was soft and smooth, but there were bruises beneath the skin that were too old to have been caused by Bear. Joel remembered that when she had fought the Xvimists for entry into the Flaming Tower, she had worn bracers.
“The banelich did this to you, didn’t it?” Joel asked, feeling sympathy for the woman despite himself.
“Yes,” the priestess replied. “It is his right,” she said with the far-off look and smile of a woman smitten.
Joel turned away in disgust, not wishing to hear a single word more.
Slowly the ship moved toward the Cat’s Gate. Joel looked back and caught a glimpse of the paladin watching them leave. He raised his hand to wave good-bye, but in the next instant, the ship was bathed in a green radiance and he could see nothing beyond the light. A dizzy sensation came over him as the ship crossed from the Realms to a new plane.
From the dune above, Holly watched as Jas’s spelljammer seemed to be consumed with green fire. As it passed between the gate’s pillars, it disappeared. Even as she watched, sand began drifting back into the gate, filling up the space between the pillars.
Holly sighed. There was no sense following them. Jedidiah had been right. She’d never keep up with the spelljammer. She was almost ready to wish she hadn’t remained silent about Jas and the holy water. “If only there was another way to follow them,” she muttered.
“Well, actually, there is,” a melodious voice called out from behind her.
Holly jumped and wheeled about. Perched on the top of the dune was a large bird. As she watched, the bird spread its tail feathers in a magnificent display of yellow, crimson, and magenta. It was a ruby peacock, Lathander’s bird.
Holly felt a great blast of hot wind, just as she had in her last two visions. She dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
“I
bring word for you from Lathander,” the bird chirped. “He is most pleased with your actions in his name. You’ve done as well as can be expected for someone with your limitations. Lathander has chosen to reward your efforts with a chance to serve him further.”
“I live to serve,” Holly whispered modestly.
“The Hand of Bane is in Sigil. You must go there and find it.”
“I don’t know the way,” Holly said.
The peacock’s tail began to glow brightly and grew as hot as the sun. The tail flared and became an arched doorway. A red light, like the setting sun, glowed in the archway.
“Take this door to Sigil,” the peacock’s voice commanded.
Holly looked back at the tarp shelter where Jas rested. “But my friend is wounded. I have to wait for help so she’ll be safe,” the paladin explained.
“Come now, Holly Harrowslough,” the bird said softly. “Your god needs your services. Do you deny your god?”
“I need to make sure my friend is all right,” the paladin said.
“I will watch over her,” the bird’s voice offered, “even though she does not follow our master. I will make sure she awakes safely.”
“Thank you,” Holly said. She climbed to the top of the dune, took a deep breath, and plunged into the crimson portal.
The doorway flashed gold, then transformed back into a ruby peacock. The large bird shrank until it was the size and shape of a cardinal, then hopped up to the edge of the tarp to watch over Jas’s inert form.
Shortly after dark, the winged woman stirred, called out Holly’s name, and sat up. She blinked in the darkness, then lay back down to sleep again.
Having fulfilled the letter of its promise, the bird flew off toward the east. It passed over a group of human riders, dressed in black armor, whose leader wore the green and black of Iyachtu Xvim. The riders were heading west toward Cat’s Gate. At the speed they traveled, they would reach the gate before dawn.
Thirteen
ILSENSINE’S REALM
As the spelljammer passed through the gate into the lands beyond, Joel felt a jolt to his equilibrium. The ship’s bow pitched upward, as if it had encountered a wave at sea. As the ship shot up into the sky, Joel fell backward and slid back into the cabin. Jedidiah, who had managed to grab the ship’s rail, cried out, “Level her out!”
