Finder's Bane

by Novak, Kate

  Walinda took a sip from her goblet, then continued “You are a priest of Finder. You recreate art, search for new meaning in every variation, use your art to bring about change.”

  Joel looked back at Walinda with surprise.

  “Yes,” the priestess said. “You see, I understand something of the tenets of your faith as well as the old priest understands ours. But there is something that transcends the tenets of our separate faiths, something that I have, but so far you can only long for. You do not believe that your service has meaning. Are you just another whisper to Finder? Does he send you your spells automatically, without thinking, in that careless manner the gods sometimes have? If another were to take your place, if you were to become something besides a priest, would it make any difference?”

  Joel sipped at the mead, wondering if it was really possible that this woman could have felt all the things that he had. Perhaps, he thought, she’s just used some magic trinket to read my thoughts.

  “If you heard his voice say your name and command you, as I heard Lord Bane’s,” Walinda whispered, “then you would know your purpose, and your heart would question nothing.” The priestess leaned against Joel. The bard could smell the rose perfume in her hair and the spicy incense that clung to her velvet gown. She laid her hand on his neck. Her hand was very warm. She stroked his shoulder with the tips of her fingernails. Exhausted as the bard was from days of fleeing in the rough countryside, the woman’s touch was quite relaxing.

  “See,” the priestess whispered, “you do want to be a slave.”

  Joel sighed softly. Then her words connected in his brain. He pulled away from her hand and stepped bad from the railing. He could sense the danger in the woman’s touch.

  Walinda laughed at his reaction. She leaned forward and whispered, “Your reserve is very becoming, Poppin. I could break through all those barriers. Stay with me on the ship. Why walk miles through rough terrain when you can enjoy a smooth ride in the company of someone who knows what you really want? You can tell the old man you are protecting his stone.”

  “Does the finder’s stone need to be protected?” he asked.

  “You tell me. Lord Bane is fascinated by it, yet I do not think he understands it. If he thought it would bring him power, he would crack it like a nut. Would it bring him power?” Walinda asked.

  Joel frowned at the question. Walinda must presume the stone held some power. Would the banelich really risk breaking the stone to try to steal Jedidiah’s power? Could the creature succeed? Should I stay, Joel wondered, to be sure the stone is kept intact until Jedidiah returns?

  “Think how you will feel, Poppin,” Walinda said, “if you reach the Lost Vale and visit the temple to Finder, yet nothing changes. Finder does not need you.” She pointed to Jedidiah. “Finder already has a priest with no doubts. A priest who doesn’t question the meaning of his service. But you will never truly know the joy of serving. Your journey is in vain. When it is finished you will not even have your hope left.” She drained her goblet and tossed it overboard.

  Joel looked at Jedidiah with envy. The old priest was so favored that he carried half of the finder’s stone. Or at least he did. Jedidiah had told him the pilgrimage to the Lost Vale was important, but did the elderly priest really understand him, know how he felt? Probably not. Walinda was right; Jedidiah had no doubts about being a priest.

  “Stay with me and I will give you new hopes,” the priestess offered, sliding her hands about his neck. She squeezed at his throat ever so gently. Alarmed by the choking sensation, Joel dropped his goblet and snatched Walinda’s wrists. She did not resist as he pulled her hands from his neck.

  Joel released her and backed away another step. “Hopelessness … that’s the specialty of the house in a temple of Bane, isn’t it?” he asked. “And you are a master in its uses.”

  Walinda bowed her head in acknowledgment of the compliment.

  “I took a vow to make a pilgrimage to the Lost Vale,” the bard declared. “I will not be foresworn, whether my journey brings me closer to my god or not.”

  “Pride, not faith,” Walinda commented. “Very well, Poppin. But I know you will be back. Only one god can enslave as Bane can. And when you return, I shall make you suffer for making me wait. But, then, making you suffer will not displease me either,” she added. Then she strode from the deck into the cabin.

  Joel shivered in the warm night air. The ease with which a murderess could manipulate his feelings filled him with despair. He wrapped his cloak about him and lay down on the deck, hoping sleep would release him from his fears and doubts. For a long time, he lay awake thinking of Walinda’s threat that he would be back Finally he heard Jedidiah singing softly in the darkness, another lullaby, only this one from Berdusk, a cradlesong Joel’s own mother had once sung to Joel. Then the Rebel Bard slept.

  Journey To The Lost Vale

  Joel awoke to Jedidiah’s gentle shaking of his shoulder.

  “We’ve made port,” the old priest said. “Time to kiss the earth, as the sailors say.”

  The sun was just rising over the Dagger Hills. Jedidiah was smiling, but he looked tired.

  Joel sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Did you get any sleep?” he asked. “Someone should have awakened me to take a watch.”

  Jedidiah shook his head. “I couldn’t have slept here anyway, and it was my turn to take the watch. Besides, there wasn’t anything really to watch for. The banelich has made his deal. There aren’t too many creatures about to fight a ship in the sky.”

  Joel stood up and looked around. The ship sat at the base of a magnificent waterfall. The water’s flow was not great, but it fell over a hundred feet, sparkling in the sunshine. It would join with several other streams to become the River Ashaba. Holly and Jas were leaning over the railing, watching the water with obvious pleasure. Walinda was seated in her chair, watching the bard. “That woman gives me the shivers,” Jedidiah muttered. He turned and bowed low to Walinda. “Until we meet again, lady,” he addressed her.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on Joel. “Certain,” Jedidiah replied.

  “I wasn’t addressing you, old man,” the priestess snapped.

  Jedidiah transformed his expression into the comically crestfallen look worn by mimes in Westgate. Joel was unable to keep himself from chuckling.

  Jedidiah patted Joel on the back. “It’s up to you,” he said with a shrug. Then he whispered, “But I’d have another look at those teeth if I were you.”

  Joel met Walinda’s gaze. The priestess smiled, showing her teeth. They were small, white, and perfect. They reminded Joel of doll teeth … unnatural. The bard shuddered. “I have to go,” he said. He made a hasty bow and joined the others at the ship’s rail.

  From her chair, Walinda called out, “Four days, old man. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “Cat’s Gate. I’ll be there,” the old priest called back. Beneath his breath he muttered, “Nag, nag, nag.”

  Holly giggled and even Jas smiled. The paladin unrolled a rope ladder down the side of the ship and began to climb down. Jedidiah followed as Jas fluttered into the air and settled near Holly. Joel climbed on the railing and looked back at Walinda. The priestess still sat in her chair, facing forward, soon to be left alone on a ship piloted by an undead priest of a dead god. “Do you ever get lonely?” Joel asked. Walinda turned her head to face the Rebel Bard. ” know you will return to me, Poppin,” she answered. Joel scrambled down the ladder. The moment the bard’s feet were on the ground, the great ship rose into the sky and disappeared behind the mountain. “Worst inn I’ve ever slept in,” Jedidiah said. “Can’t think why Volo would recommend it.”

  “I can still sense the banelich,” Holly said. “They’re not too far off.”

  “No doubt they’ll try to follow us from the air,” Jedidiah said. “It won’t do them any good.” He turned to Joel and explained. “For reasons of their own, Holly and Jas have agreed to accompany us
to the vale.”

  “Oh,” Joel said. He could understand Holly wanting to see the vale. To her mind, it was another dale, a possible ally, a secret to take back to Randal Morn. The young bard wondered about Jas’s reasons, however. He remembered the long conversation Jedidiah had with the winged woman the night before. He couldn’t begin to guess what agreement she’d reached with Jedidiah.

  Jedidiah knelt down on the ground and spread his cloak out before him. He sang a simple grace, and the air above the cloak shimmered blue. When the old priest had finished, two fat loaves of bread lay on his cloak. Jedidiah held out his arms, inviting the others to join him.

  When they’d finished their breakfast of Jedidiah’s bread, plus cold, refreshing water from the stream, Jedidiah said, “Time, I think, to go. Do you need to pull out the map?”

  Joel shook his head. He’d studied the map so often on his trip north he had large portions of his route memorized … especially the route through the waterfall.

  Joel stepped into the stream. The water was cold but bearable. He began to walk toward the waterfall.

  “Why do I have a sinking feeling we’re going to get all wet?” Jas groused. “I hate getting my feathers damp.”

  “Pretend you’re a duck,” Jedidiah teased.

  “Are we going behind the waterfall?” Holly asked with delight, chasing Joel into the stream. “No wonder Lord Randal’s men couldn’t discover how to get into your vale.”

  Jedidiah and Jas followed the bard and the paladin up the stream. The streambed was slick with small, rounded rocks. Closer to the waterfall, Joel discovered a chain beneath the water and picked it up. It was fastened to something behind the waterfall. The bard handed the end to Holly, and they used it to steady themselves as they pulled their way through the strong current until they came to the curtain of water.

  The bard and paladin stood just behind the falls, looking out, as Jedidiah and Jas came through.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Holly asked, pointing back at the sunshine rippling through the waterfall. “Very,” Joel agreed.

  Jedidiah picked up a rock and sang a quick scale, imbuing the stone with a luminous glow.

  Behind the waterfall was a cavern. The floor was covered with sand. Footprints ran from the back of the cavern to the waterfall. One set was booted; the other was unlike any print Joel had ever seen before—shaped like a dragon’s, but smaller than a human’s. “Whose tracks are these?” Holly asked. “The swordswoman Alias and one of the saurials,” Jedidiah said.

  They followed the footprints back to a staircase cut into the rock. It was a long climb up the stairs. They had to pause to rest twice. At the top of the stairs, they came out into a cave looking out over a valley. “Is that the vale?” Jas asked. Jedidiah laughed. “We’ve miles and miles to go yet.” The cave contained a little shrine to Tyr, god of justice. Bits of ash from burned paper dusted the tiny altar before the god’s statue.

  They rested again before they followed the path that led from the cave down the opposite side of the mountain. The path stayed beneath the trees, skirting the edge of any clearings, or, if the trees thinned on an especially rocky slope, the trail passed through tunnels cut into the mountainside.

  Jas smiled with satisfaction. “I hope that witch wastes lots of time trying to spot us from the air,” she said.

  They traveled along the path all morning, stopping only once to pick raspberries. By noon, they’d reached their goal: Finder’s harp symbol, carved into the gray rock of a cliffside and painted white with a solution of lime. Etched into the cliffside just below the symbol of Finder was the outline of an archway. Jas knocked, pushed, pried, and tapped all about the outline of the archway but could discover no opening.

  “It’s solid rock,” the winged woman insisted.

  Joel nodded. He warmed up his voice with a scale, then, with a nod from Jedidiah, he began to sing a marching song the old priest had taught him. The song described the trail so far and asked Finder to unravel an easier path for the rest of the journey. It had two verses and a refrain. Jedidiah joined in on the refrain.

  Joel closed his eyes and smiled as he sang the second verse. The weariness of the past few days seemed to drain away. He felt calm, as if he and Jedidiah were singing a drinking song in a tavern in Berdusk. The sounds reverberated from the cliffside, amplifying their voices until they rang throughout the mountains.

  Joel repeated the refrain alone, adding a little dance step, which never failed to amuse Jedidiah. Holly applauded.

  Jas looked expectantly at the wall, but nothing happened. “Well?” she asked. “What’s the problem? Were you off-key or something?”

  Jedidiah snorted. “You may no longer be a groundling, my dear, but you are a barbarian. Off-key indeed!” And with that, the bard walked straight into the cliff face, disappearing into the rock like water into sand. He poked his head back out. “Don’t dawdle. The door won’t last forever.”

  Jas, Holly, and Joel plunged through the stone. When they emerged from the rock, they found themselves surrounded by fog. Jedidiah’s light stone lit only a tiny area around them. Holly, off to one side of the others, stumbled and nearly fell in the thick fog. Jedidiah pulled her back toward the light. “Stick to the path,” he said, indicating the trail marked by lines of glowing yellow stones. “No telling what might happen if you wander off.”

  Joel started off down the path, eager now to reach hi” destination. Behind him, Jas muttered a dark curse. Joel turned around. Jas’s wings had transformed. In place of the pink-feathered, eaglelike appendages were four planes of clear membranes like a dragonfly’s wings. They glowed softly.

  “Jas, your wings … they’ve—”

  “—changed. Yeah, big deal,” Jas muttered. She glared at Jedidiah. “We aren’t underground at all, are we? You didn’t tell me this would take us into another plane,’ she complained.

  “We’re in another plane?” Holly asked, awestruck.

  “The borderland of the ethereal plane,” Jedidiah explained. “One of the saurials, a wizard named Grypht, created the gates and the path. Do your wings transform every time you travel to a different plane?” the old priest asked Jas curiously.

  “Yeah. Now can we get on with it?” Jas insisted.

  The way was smooth, but the lack of scenery made the walk tiresome. After a while, Joel and Jedidiah began singing to break the monotony. Holly joined in occasionally. Jas remained silent, occupied with her own thoughts.

  Joel asked Jedidiah if Alias knew the song to open the ethereal path.

  “Oh, yes,” the old priest said. “She has quite a remarkable voice.”

  “Is she a priestess of Finder?” Joel asked.

  Jedidiah laughed and shook his head. “She’s more like Jas. Avoids the gods if she can help it.”

  They lost all track of time during their trek in the murky grayness. They walked until they were exhausted, then rested. When they awoke, they ate another meal created by Jedidiah, then walked some more. Some time after their third rest, the path ended at another gate-a glittering yellow monolith of amber, engraved with Finder’s symbol beneath the carving of an archway.

  Joel repeated the marching song. This time he was the first to step through the gate.

  He stood on another mountainside, just above the timberline, his back to another cliff engraved with Finder’s symbol. The world below was already in twilight, the wooded slopes shadowed by the mountains to the west. Just down the path was a small open-sided shelter built of wood, shingled with slate to match the hillside.

  When Jas popped out of the mountainside, her wings were once again pink feathers. Holly and Jedidiah came out a moment later.

  “It’s not far from here now,” Jedidiah said, “but the trail is narrow and steep. We should wait until light to continue.”

  They walked down to the shelter. It was engraved with symbols of Finder, Tyr, Tymora, Chauntea, and others that Joel did not recognize. An assortment of wind chimes hung under the shelter’s eaves—deep-tone
d tubes of copper, tinkling tinny silver bells, clacking reeds. Herbs and dried flowers hung from the ceiling. Benches surrounded a small round table. The high mountain air was chill, but the shelter was comfortably warmed by some enchantment. The party sat and ate one final meal of Jedidiah’s magically created bread.

  “Nothing personal, but I’ll be glad to eat real food again,” Jas said.

  “So will I,” Jedidiah agreed.

  Assured by Jedidiah that there was no need to keep a watch as long as they slept in the safety of the shelter, they were all soon asleep on the wooden floor. The wind chimes in the eaves played a lullaby for the weary adventurers.

  Joel woke before sunrise, when the birds were just beginning to stir. He lay awake, unable to fall back to sleep. Soon he would be in the Lost Vale, in the Singing Cave, the only temple to Finder. He would meet the temple’s priestess, Copperbloom. Jedidiah had told Joel that if he made the pilgrimage to the Lost Vale he would understand more about Finder and his church. He wanted to believe Jedidiah with all his heart, yet Walinda’s threat had poisoned that belief. What if he got there and still didn’t understand his purpose, still felt useless? The uncertainty was unbearable.

  The Rebel Bard sat up. Holly and Jas lay sleeping in a corner, but Jedidiah stood outside the shelter, motionless. Joel rose and joined him. Jedidiah smiled and whispered good morning.

  “Trouble sleeping?” Joel asked.

  “Just troubled period,” Jedidiah replied. “Are you anxious to get there?” he asked.

  Joel nodded with a sheepish grin. “It’s kind of like the morning before Highharvestide. I’m too excited to sleep.”

  Jedidiah nodded with an understanding smile. “lie sky’s lightening,” he noted. “Why don’t you start down the path? I’ll wait here until the ladies wake, then well follow you.”