by Novak, Kate
A young dwarf handed Holly a lantern, and the paladin led the bard away from the manor down a meadow path. Firestars zipped about them. Holly halted at the door to a small cottage and set the lantern down on the front stoop.
“I’m sorry I can’t escort you farther,” the girl said.
“I understand. You have a duty to Morn. I’ll be fine with Bear.”
“About Bear …” Holly paused, as if searching for the right words. “Just watch yourself with him.”
“I’ll stay out of arm’s reach,” Joel assured her with a grin.
“I don’t trust him,” the paladin whispered.
“Why not?” Joel asked, thinking immediately of the legendary paladin’s ability to plum the depths of the soul.
“It’s not what you think,” Holly replied. “I don’t sense evil about him. And it’s not that he’s ever done anything really wrong. He’s just so utterly devoted, so grim, so humorless. He makes my stomach knot. It’s not exactly something I can tell to Lord Randal.”
Joel nodded with understanding. Morn wasn’t likely to have his judgment swayed by a girl’s gut instinct, even if she was a useful and loyal subject. “I’ll keep my eyes open,” he assured her.
“Just take care of yourself,” she ordered. “And thanks for everything back there, with the Zhents.”
“My pleasure,” the bard insisted. He thrust out his hand, and Holly grasped his wrist as he held hers.
“Good-bye and good luck,” the girl said. A moment later she disappeared into the darkness.
“Good luck to you, Holly Harrowslough,” Joel sang softly after her. Then he picked up the lantern and retired into the cottage.
Once inside, Joel tugged off his boots and flopped down on the bed. Placing his fingertips across his brow, he sang a short discordant scale and concentrated his energies as Jedidiah had taught him. His hands glowed a soft blue, and a moment later the throbbing in his head and the tingling in his nose dissipated.
He still felt a little fuzzy, but that, he suspected, was the ale. Just need to get some sleep, he told himself. A few minutes later he was snoring softly.
The next morning the young dwarf who’d served him ale brought by a tray of bread and milk and a message from Bear that he was waiting at the manor and would be ready to leave whenever the bard gave the word.
Joel sent back word he’d be ready within the hour.
Scrubbed and fed, the bard strolled down to the manor house where Butternut was tied up, groomed, fed, bridled, and saddled. Bear stomped up leading a heavy black draft horse for his own mount. Joel greeted him a good morning, to which Bear grunted. The huge man had no words of greeting, let alone any of apology. At least he did not glare so much as he had the night before, or so Joel imagined.
Kharva poked her head out of the door. “Lord Randal and Harrowslough left at dawn. They said to wish you fair travel. There are fresh provisions in your saddlebags. I packed you some pies made from the leftover stew.”
“I can smell them,” Joel noted. “The scent will drive me crazy all morning. I thank you.” He made a deep bow. Kharva laughed and disappeared back into the manor.
No one else came to see them off. They must all be working, Joel told himself. Still, it felt odd that not even a few children or one old geezer stood by to wave them out of town.
Joel mounted Butternut. “I’m headed for the opposite bank of the River Ashaba, then into the mountains,” he explained to Bear.
Bear grunted and mounted his draft horse.
“Anytime you want to stop and point out some local sites of interest, feel free,” Joel added.
Bear grunted again and kicked his horse into motion.
Having expended all the topics for morning conversation, Joel followed behind with Butternut.
Bear led Joel out of the dell by a northward path wide enough for a single rider, which suited the Rebel Bard perfectly. He lagged behind the black draft horse by several lengths, alone with his own thoughts.
Mostly those thoughts were preoccupied with Holly and the nature of her faith. She was so much younger than he, yet she seemed to have effortlessly melded her duties as a paladin of Lathander into the rest of her life. Was it something she had prepared for all her life? If I wear the title of priest long enough, will it finally feel like it fits? he wondered.
From the time he had first spoken with Jedidiah, Joel had been excited by the idea of following Finder, but he still couldn’t fathom why Jedidiah had been so eager for him to be more than a follower. What in the Realms made Jedidiah think I would make a good priest?
Finally thoughts about the scenery shoved their way into the forefront of Joel’s mind. The path Bear chose led them past, by Joel’s count, over thirty abandoned farms, each marked by great swaths of meadow that had once been fields, overgrown orchards, and burnt-out farmhouses. Between the deprivations of the Zhentilar occupation, marauding orcs, and no doubt a dragon or two, the Daggerdale folk hereabouts had apparently given up and left their land to lie fallow. Anathar’s Dell’s survival was a lone exception to the rule.
Hoping to brighten his mood, Joel was about to suggest to Bear that they stop for an early lunch. He urged Butternut into the field and pulled her up alongside Bear’s draft horse. That’s when he spotted the Zhentilar. There was a whole patrol resting in the shade of an old orchard at the far side of the meadow he and Bear were now crossing. Most had dismounted and were idly chucking rocks at the tree trunks, but at least three remained in their saddles watching the horizon.
“Hey,” Joel whispered, “what’s”
Bear held up a single hand. Despite himself, Joel flinched.
Just ride on,” Bear growled softly. “There won’t be any trouble.”
Joel nodded, realizing Bear must know what he was doing. The trick was to remain calm and ride on past just as Bear and other native Daggerdalefolk must do dozens of times a day.
This patrol was larger than the two Joel had encountered the day before, but it was much more ragged. The soldiers’ leather jerkins were motley, and not all of them sported the Zhentarim badge of black and yellow. There was an even mix of men and women in the group. The men’s faces were all unshaven and the women’s hair tangled, and none of them appeared to have washed since the last rainstorm. They looked more like brigands than soldiers. Nonetheless they were intimidating. More than half of them looked as if they could give Bear a good wrestling match.
It was the sight of their leader that unnerved Joel the most. He was one of those who remained mounted. Over a full suit of black plate mail, the man wore an open black robe with green piping. Emerald-colored stones glistened from the backs of his black gauntlets. Any doubt Joel may have had concerning the leader’s profession vaporized upon spotting the green stole he wore. Embroidered on either end was the symbol of a black hand with glowing green eyes. The leader was a priest of the god Iyachtu Xvim, Godson of Bane.
Iyachtu Xvim’s followers, called Xvimists, were growing in numbers in the north, poaching on the not-so-faithful of Cyric, the Mad God. Xvimists held to many of the same dogmas as the former Banites. Tyranny and hatred were their reasons for living. There was no love lost between Iyachtu and the dead god who’d been his father, yet Iyachtu’s people considered Banites the property of Bane’s heir, their god. They were said to embrace Banites into their fold, willing or not. Joel wondered if they’d heard reports of the pilgrim Banites Joel had spotted yesterday. Banite and Xvimite doctrine held that followers of all other religions were fools to be despised and abused.
Bear nodded as they approached the orchard. A few of the Zhentilar nodded back. Joel gave a jerky copy of the nod, keeping his expression completely neutral, trying to appear neither weak nor aggressive.
The priest leader nudged his mount forward, partially blocking the path. Bear halted his mount. Joel urged Butternut to move up alongside the draft horse. His mind raced as he tried to think what to say, and what not to say, to these people. Then he realized that this was Bear’s cou
ntry, and this was Bear’s problem. Bear would know exactly what to say.
“Darkness falls,” the priest of Xvim greeted them, holding up his left hand, palm outward. For a brief moment green flame flickered at the priest’s fingertips. “And darkness rises again,” Bear responded, holding up his left hand. Green flame danced along his fingertips as well. Joel started with surprise, and Holly’s warning about Bear instantly came to mind. “And your cause?” the priest queried. “I bring an offering,” Bear explained. “A priest of Finder.”
Offering! Joel thought. Realizing he had foolishly come within arm’s reach of Bear, Joel pulled on Butternut’s reins. Butternut tried to step backward, but another Zhentilar had positioned himself right behind the mare. Annoyed, the mare kicked backward, then leapt forward, delivering Joel right into Bear’s fast.
The blow struck the bard in the side of the head. Then, before he could react, the huge man lifted the bard from the saddle and hurled him to the ground.
Joel had the presence of mind to roll away from Butternut’s hooves, but before he could rise to his feet, another Zhentilar booted him in the stomach. The bard doubled over and fell back to the ground. When he’d finally caught his breath and looked back up, Bear was standing over him, smiling, finally amused by the bard.
Behind the huge man, Joel could see the priest of Xvim, still mounted, also smiling. “Alive,” the priest said to Bear. “Make him hurt all you want, but keep him alive for later.”
Some of Branson’s instructions in combat finally worked their way to the bard’s thoughts. He rolled away from Bear and up to his feet with his sword drawn. The weapon did not stop Bear’s advance.
Determined that the huge man should at the very least learn to respect his steel blade, Joel lunged outward. The tip of his sword hit something hard beneath Bear’s leather jerkin and skittered out and downward until it finally sunk into something soft. Joel jumped back a step, yanking his sword with him. There was blood on the end of the blade. Bear remained standing like some magical golem.
A split second later the huge man closed on the surprised bard, wrapping one massive hand about Joel’s right wrist and the other about Joel’s windpipe. The sword clattered from Joel’s nerveless fingers. With his left hand, Joel grabbed for the wand at his belt and pointed it at Bear’s belly, hoping it might turn the huge man into something small, like a beetle, but without air, the bard couldn’t choke out the wand’s command word. Bear let go of Joel’s right hand and yanked away the wand. Once he’d thrown the magical stick to the ground, he tightened his grip about his opponent’s throat. Dark spots began appearing before Joel’s eyes.
Then suddenly Bear released both his neck and wrist. Joel tumbled to the ground. Groggy, he rose again to his feet, expecting some worse punishment from the traitorous Bear. After a moment he realized Bear’s attack would not be forthcoming any time soon.
As the dark spots faded from his eyes, he could see that the Zhentilar were fighting with someone else, Someone mounted on a Zhentilar horse, wielding a sword. Someone wearing a crimson and yellow blouse with blue and green peacock stitching.
Holly followed us, Joel realized. The damsel in distress has come to my rescue. Now we have to escape from the Zhents again. I’ve got to get my wits about me.
Most of the Zhentilar had begun swarming around Holly. Bear turned half away from Joel to warn them “Look out!” the huge man bellowed. “She’s a practiced killer!”
Joel caught sight of the wand lying on the ground at Bear’s feet. He looked back up at Bear and caught the glitter of the traitor’s steel eye patch. He was on the huge man’s blind side.
Keeping bent over low, Joel dashed past Bear, scooping up the wand as he moved. He stopped and spun about with his back to a tree and the wand out before him. He looked back at Holly. At least three Zhentilar lay on the ground around her, but those remaining had managed to trip her horse to the ground, yank her from the saddle, and disarm her. Still she fought, kicking and punching with unerring precision. Unfortunately, Joel realized, he couldn’t fire the wand at her attackers and risk injuring her.
He had other targets, however. The priest of Xvim. still mounted on his horse, sat watching the paladin’s battle with an amused smile on his face. Joel aimed the wand at him, pleased to see that Bear stood in the line of fire. The bard whispered the command word.
Vast cloud of black smoke issued from the wand and coalesced a moment later into a horrific creature completely unknown to Joel. It was larger than the largest bull Joel had ever seen, with wrinkled gray skin and a single horn in the center of its head. It charged toward Bear and the priest with a bellowing roar.
Bear spun about just in time to sidestep the beast’s charge, but the priest of Xvim, his attention focused on Holly, did not react quickly enough to keep his horse from being gutted by the beast’s horn.
Joel pointed the wand again at Bear, but he was too late. The huge man had already closed on him. He slammed into the bard, flattened him into the ground, then delivered blow after blow with his elbows to the bard’s face.
From far off, Joel could hear Holly screaming. Then silence and blackness enveloped him.
The Sacrifice
How long he remained unconscious Joel could not tell, but at some point he began to sense he was rolling from side to side. Somehow he knew he was on a ship bound for some far-off land. Through a gray haze, he saw the prow of the floating ship that had accompanied the pilgrim Banites. Standing on the deck over his prone form was the Banite priestess with her silver goad. She turned to face him, wearing a pitiless smile.
Instinctively the Rebel Bard tried to back away, but his hands and feet were chained. He shouted. A moment later when he opened his eyes, he realized he had been dreaming. The rolling had stopped, and the ship and the priestess of Bane were gone.
Holly hovered over him, surrounded by a rosy glow, which quickly faded. She’d been using her paladin’s gift of healing to repair the damage done by Bear’s beating. Her pretty features were darkened with concern. Joel raised an arm to ruffle her hair reassuringly, then realized the chains were not just part of a dream. He and the paladin both were shackled hand and foot, short chains linking the shackles and a slightly longer one attached to the chains at their wrists, linking them one to the other.
Joel squinted and blinked in the sunlight streaming over Holly’s shoulder. The sun was westering over the mountains, but the brightness still hurt Joel’s eyes. Holly shifted her position to shade his face. “Are you all right?” the girl asked.
“Just tell me the priestess of Bane was a dream,” Joel croaked, his throat raw and parched.
“Why would you dream about a priestess of Bane?” Holly asked. “It’s a priest of Xvim who’s captured us. Don’t you remember?”
“Priest of Xvim, a dozen Zhentilar, and one ugly Bear,” Joel muttered, remembering now what had happened. With Holly’s help, he sat up and looked around. He could see all the parties named seated beneath the shade of a tree. “What were you doing there?” he demanded of Holly.
“I took a detour from my route to check on Bear,” Holly explained. “When I saw him throw you from your horse I tried to ride to the rescue.”
“You should have ridden right to Lord Randal and let him know.”
“I couldn’t just let them keep beating you up,” Holly argued. “With Bear there, I couldn’t bluff them like you did, so I just attacked. It was the only thing I could think of.”
Joel sighed. As much as he liked the paladin, subtlety, he realized, was not her forte. Trying to sound hopeful, the bard asked, “So where are we now?”
“You’ve been out since yesterday. We passed throughDaggerFalls some time after noon today. They had you slung across the back of a packhorse. Now that you’re awake, you’ll have to march.”
“What happened to Butternut?” Joel asked.
“She had the sense to bolt,” Holly answered.
Joel thought of all the things in Butternut’s saddlebags that were l
ost to him now, especially Kharva’s beef stew pies. He felt his stomach growl.
“So Bear can’t risk going back to Anathar’s Dell,’ Holly explained. “When your horse shows up there, riderless, there will be a great many questions asked.”
“Well, that’s a small blessing, at any rate. Where are they taking us now?” Joel asked.
“There,” Holly said, motioning with both manacled hands over Joel’s right shoulder.
The bard twisted about. They sat on a slope looking down over a vale. On the opposite side of the vale, where Holly had just motioned, was a squat black tower. Hanging in the sky over the tower was a huge chunk of rock shaped like a great hornet’s nest.
“That’s theFlamingTower , and the flying rock above it is called The Temple in the Sky,” Holly explained. “No one knows much about the rock except that it’s supposed to be inhabited by a beast cult. The beast cult ha made an alliance with the people in the tower.”
“And who’s in the tower?” Joel asked.
“It used to be held by Zhents who followed Cyric, God of Lies, but since Cyric’s madness has grown, their power’s been slipping. In his last report, Lord Randal said the tower’s now held by Zhents who follow Iyachtu Xvim.”
“Same as our captors,” Joel noted. “So why aren’t our captors hurrying across the vale to get home in time for supper?”
“Look harder … at the east side of the tower,” Holly replied.
Joel focused on the area Holly had indicated. Ht started with surprise. There, parked at the tower gate, was the floating ship of the Banite pilgrims. The hulking vessel seemed small and fragile next to the massive tower. Joel squinted, but he couldn’t see any sign of the pilgrims or the priestess on or near the ship.
“There was some sort of fight going on when we arrived,” Holly explained. “The Banites were trying to get in the tower, and the Xvim people were trying Is keep them out. Our captors sent a scout down to find out if it was safe to approach.”
“Sounds like the Zhents are spending more time with religious feuds than in conspiring to conquer the Realms,” Joel noted.
