Кейт Новак - Finder's Bane

The weariness and age had disappeared from Jedidiah’s face, and he once more appeared to be a man in his prime. More important was the feeling Joel had that he stood in his god’s presence. The Rebel Bard hadn’t recognized its existence until Jedidiah had given up his power, but now that the power was restored, Joel could feel it once again.

“Well,” Jedidiah said, “what do you know? It worked. I can feel your presence again.”

Joel’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, it worked?” he squeaked. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Well, essentially, we just recreated a god, and there’s other powers involved in recreating a godly presence—powers that might try to stop the process,” Jedidiah explained.

“You knew that when you gave up your powers?” Joel asked, flabbergasted.

Jedidiah nodded.

Joel sighed. Then he laughed. “I have a new portfolio for you, Jedidiah. God of Reckless Fools,” he said.

Jedidiah laughed. “I like it. Something adventurers can relate to.” He stood up, without a hint of pain or tiredness. “Time to deal with the banelich.”

“How do we find him out here?” Joel asked.

“We just think of him, and our minds will move our bodies in his direction. Or you could think of moving toward Holly,” the god instructed his priest.

Joel took Jedidiah’s latter suggestion and found himself moving away from the dead satyr-god back into the void of nothingness. Jedidiah moved alongside him, though sometimes he soared ahead. Joel wondered if Jedidiah was thinking of the banelich or the paladin or concentrating instead on the other half of the finder’s stone. Whichever was the case, they continued to move in the same direction.

Joel couldn’t say how long their journey lasted. He didn’t get hungry or thirsty or tired, yet he soon realized that time and distance and even his own existence were distorted in this plane. They passed writhing conduits and glowing portals and other dead gods. Once a flying lion circled them, then flew on.

All the while they traveled, the Rebel Bard was uncomfortable in his mind. Jedidiah had entrusted him with the Hand of Bane. The decision of what to do with it was up to him. Before Walinda’s treachery, Joel’s only concern had been whether or not he would deprive Finder of the power the god wanted, perhaps even needed. Now Holly’s life was at stake as well. The priestess had taken Holly for the same reason the banelich had tried to abduct Joel. The banelich didn’t want to part with the finder’s stone. Walinda would demand the Hand of Bane in exchange for Holly’s life, giving her master all he desired.

Another dead god statue seemed to move toward them. This one was of a handsome man wearing ornate plate armor, his face twisted and frozen in a derogatory sneer. As they grew closer, they could see that the statue was far larger than the first one. If this god were to land on any castle in the Realms, he would crush it beneath his great mass. This, the bard sensed with grim certainty, was the body of Bane, former Lord of Strife, Hatred, and Tyranny.

Their quarry had taken up a position on Bane’s great back, just below the neck. The banelich had discarded its armor and wore only a ceremonial robe of black and red. Walinda stood at the creature’s right, armored in her black plate mail. Holly knelt at her feet, bound hand and foot. The priestess held the point of her silver-tipped goad against the paladin’s throat.

Jedidiah and Joel settled several feet away from them, on the left shoulder, leaving a small hillock between the two parties. The hillock consisted of a ridge in the great god’s armor corresponding to his shoulder blade. The banelich didn’t deign to acknowledge their presence. Instead, Walinda spoke for her master.

“Well met, Poppin,” the priestess greeted Joel. “I see you were successful.” She nodded toward the stone hand Joel had tucked inside his belt. “I will make a deal with you … the Hand of Bane for the paladin’s life.”

“What about our deal for the finder’s stone?” Joel asked the priestess.

“My lord chooses not to surrender the power of the stone but to keep it for himself,” Walinda replied. “Accept my offer and you may all live to witness my lord’s resurrection.”

“No!” Holly shouted to Joel. “Don’t buy my life with this evil act! Destroy the hand!”

Walinda spun her goad, using the blunt end to smack the paladin in the back of the head, sending her sprawling forward.

Joel looked at Jedidiah. If he accepted Walinda’s offer, Finder wouldn’t regain the power stored in the other half of the stone. He would remain a weak god. Nor would Holly forgive him for aiding in Bane’s resurrection.

“I gave you the hand,” his god said softly to Joel, “so you could decide what was right.”

The Rebel Bard fixed his eyes on Walinda. He knew the priestess wouldn’t hesitate to kill the paladin. Holly was prepared to sacrifice her life to prevent Bane’s resurrection, so the evil god couldn’t return to the Realms to destroy the lives of others. Why should Holly have to die for all the others?

“I’m sorry, Holly,” Joel said, “but your life is as valuable as anyone else’s. I won’t sacrifice it. I’ll make the trade,” he told Walinda.

Joel stepped forward, pulling the Hand of Bane from his belt. Suddenly he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eyes. Jas, her wings as silvery bright as a new coin, swooped from beneath the god corpse’s right shoulder just in front of Walinda and the banelich. She grabbed Holly by the arms and sped off with her into the void before any of them could react. The winged woman moved with a speed beyond anything her wings could achieve. She moved as anyone did in the astral plane, as fast as her mind could imagine, which in Jas’s case was very, very quickly.

Walinda shrieked and swung her goad around to attack, but it was too late. She had lost her prize.

A moment later Jas returned, with Holly in tow, to land at Joel’s and Jedidiah’s side.

“What took you?” Joel muttered.

“I was waiting for you to distract the witch,” Jas replied. The flyer’s skin was still covered with black feathers, but her talons had transformed back to human hands.

“You’re changing back,” Joel noted.

“Slowly,” Jas said. “The darkness of Xvim is still in me, but I can fight it now.”

“Well played, priest of Finder,” the banelich bellowed. Its deep voice rolled across Bane’s back like the sound of thunder. “You have thwarted my priestess’s scheme. Now you will trade power for power. The Hand of Bane for your stone.”

“No!” Holly insisted, pulling at the Hand of Bane with her bound hands. “You can’t do this! The return of your finder’s stone cannot outweigh the evil Bane will bring to the world if he is resurrected.”

“Holly,” Joel whispered, keeping a firm grip on the Hand of Bane, “you don’t understand. There’s more at stake than we told you. The power in the stone … it’s Finder’s power.”

Holly shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she declared. “How could Jedidiah put Finder’s power …” The paladin halted in mid-sentence, and her face lit up with understanding. She turned to look at Jedidiah, her eyes wide with astonishment.

Jedidiah grinned sheepishly.

Holly’s eyes narrowed with sudden determination. “It makes no difference,” she insisted. “Lathander personally sent a messenger to me. If you don’t give me the Hand of Bane, if I don’t prevent Bane’s resurrection, I will fail my god.”

Joel felt a sudden surge of loyalty to Finder. “So I’m to fail my god instead?” Joel asked. “Is my god’s weakness less evil than Bane’s resurrection?”

“It must be,” Holly said. “Lathander is a god of goodness and light. He wouldn’t—”