From the sloping hill, the companions saw bits of color and shapes that did not blend in with the environment. The Doranil Star could no longer be described within a single hull. The remnants of the ship scattered over a half mile of disturbed ground. The many displaced pieces caught the eyes of the adventurers in their multitudes of tints. They saw bits of wooden framework propped up by the low scrub brush. Bright speckles of color came from various clothing and broken furniture that littered the land. Here and there sunlight glinted off metal bits and jewels. Crates, barrels, and bags lounged on the shores of the streams. A long banner had been caught in one of the trees on the side of a cliff. Its wind-beaten threads lazily moved with the breeze.
All of the companions paused as they looked over the strewn wreckage. Sondra fell to her knees before prostrating herself before the corpse of her divine chariot. She prayed words that few among them heard. They were too distracted by the sight of the fallen marvel. Cassyli remained quiet, though his mind tried to envision the impressive size of the ship.
Montanya eventually broke the silence. “That is a lot of area to search. It will take days to find two small stones amidst all that.”
Trestan nodded, “Aye, but likely we can narrow it down a bit. Despite the damage, you can make out patterns in the wreckage. You can roughly tell where the cargo holds were by the position of the crates and barrels. The luxury quarters are marked by the gold trim and brightest colors of sheets. Some of the cloth bits are mere distraction, for the wind has carried them farther away from the vessel itself. The forecastle, the timbers and rigging of the masts, the tarnished gold of the bowsprit…all laying in a certain order. It is in pieces and decomposed but you can tell a bit about where things landed.”
“So, how do you wish to proceed?” Lindon asked.
Sondra spoke before Trestan had a chance to respond. The young woman remained kneeling in her clerical vestments. “I can look for the holy relics of my church. I can feel their presence down there. I can trace their power and follow the trail right to them.”
“Which would lead you to the remains of the inner sanctum.” Trestan interrupted, “But not to where the relic stones landed. You can feel the presence of relics holy to Ganden, but not these.”
Cat’s eyes widened. “Priests can feel the presence of religious items holy to them?”
At Trestan and Sondra’s affirming nods, Cat patted the leather scroll tucked in her belt. “From what I’ve been able to decipher in this scroll about the history of the relics, they were created by three gods working together. Neither Ganden nor Abriana were among those gods, so I assume you can’t sense them through your religions. However, one of the gods that consecrated the stones was DeLaris. So, Savannah should be able to sense exactly where the stones are once she gets here.”
Montanya’s nose wrinkled as she tried to make sense of religion and miracles. “So wouldn’t Savannah have known from the start exactly where to look? They could have come and gone already.”
The young acolyte of Ganden got to her feet as she answered. “It’s a matter of concentration and distance. You have to expend at least some amount of concentration to use the miracle. Also, you need to be reasonably close to the holy item. I only sensed Ganden’s relics just now.”
Cassyli had been silent up to that moment. “They now have my brother to guide them. He knows how to find this place as well as I did. Our best hope is that the firbholg got us here first.”
Trestan was smoothing over his mustache like he always did when in deep thought. The others chatted over the situation…except for Katressa. She waited to hear Trestan’s line of thinking.
The champion of Abriana finally reached a decision after looking over the layout of the land. “Whatever happens, we have to move quickly to secure the relics before Savannah finds them. Even once we do that, we’ll be carrying a beacon that will allow them to track us if they are close. Either way, we have to move fast and be prepared for a fight.”
Trestan pointed partway across the vale, indicating the tattered banner hanging from the cliff. “I should move up to there. I may not be able to sense the stone relics, but I can attempt to use a guidance spell to help me. It’s a miracle by which Abriana may be able to show me the location of something specific…and since I had the stones in my possession they are an item of which I am already familiar. From that vantage I can likely get a good view once the miracle is activated.”
Trestan turned towards his friends. “The rest of you continue forward on the vale floor. The stone relics were in the forward hold last we knew. You have to travel through the wreckage until you find refuse that could be from that hold. You will also likely be able to see me easily, I can point you towards anything the miracle reveals to me and rejoin you down there.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t go off on your own with that other band somewhere out there.” Cat looked to Trestan with worry in her emerald eyes.
He kissed her reassuringly, “It is better to have as many sets of eyes on the ground as possible, especially eyes as keen and lovely as yours.”
* * * * *
Rocks crunched under his footsteps as Trestan followed the cliff overlooking the debris field. He moved to a promising observation point. The uneven terrain below obstructed many areas behind leafy branches and natural swells in the land. It took a moment to find the other companions. They walked spread apart, eyes exploring every shadow and the glints of metal in the sunlight. Cat glanced up and offered a fond wave at seeing him on that rise. They were further away than he would have preferred, but it was a large area to cover.
The champion of Abriana knelt in the hardy grasses that thrived amidst rock. He readjusted the strap that kept his sword on his back. The former blacksmith spread his arms out towards the sacred resting place of the Doranil Star. Words were whispered to his goddess above. His prayer asked for the miracle of guidance. He put the memories of the stones foremost in his thoughts.
The miracle tugged at his senses. His eyes opened and were drawn to his left. He saw the remnants of the helm castle, settled among a grove of trees. The spell drew his vision further forward, towards the blackened remnants of barrels that had set the deck aflame during the fight. Somewhere near them, in the hollow beyond, Trestan could feel the stones. The guidance spell drew a picture of them in his mind: he saw how they settled on the ground.
At last, Trestan had found the stones and they had beaten the other band in getting there.
Elated, he looked for Cat to direct her towards their goal, but the companions were moving on the other side of some trees. Yet, there was movement in a place where none of the companions were walking. Trestan’s mouth went dry as he saw the most unwelcome forms sneaking up behind his friends. He could see an elf dressed similar to Cassyli, yet it was not Cassyli, leading others of mixed races along the companions’ trail. Revwar, Kemora, and Jentan were moving with weapons bared. The only member of the band conspicuously absent was…
“I thought this was a good place to use miracles to spot the locations of the Earthrin Stones. Apparently someone shared my opinion.”
Whether it was an unintentional slip of Savannah’s tongue or not, this was the first time Trestan heard the name given to the relic stones. There was little he could do with the information at that moment. He could only commit it to memory as he slowly got up and faced the abbess of Death.
Those cold, blue eyes were still several paces away, staring from behind the hideous skull helm. “You are quite surprising, chosen of Abriana. You are not the same boy who once shattered a quarterstaff across my jaw. You have been taken in and trained by a goddess.”
Trestan had made no move to draw his sword, a fact not lost on Savannah. Yet, she made no move to draw her own weapon. The flail stayed attached to her belt. Savannah, as relatively unguarded as Trestan, moved a few lazy steps closer.
A beautiful, slender hand rose up and removed the skull helm from her head, letting it fall in the hardy grass. She caressed her chin where
Trestan had hit her with the staff four years ago. “To think of such a blow I had suffered, one might think to find broken bones there.” Her eyes were painted with dark circles to imitate the likeness of a skull missing its orbs; as worshippers of DeLaris often did. Savannah’s chin seemed perfectly shaped as she softly touched her face. “It healed rather well. You wouldn’t know to look at it how badly you smashed the bones. However, when the nights are cold I still feel the dull ache in my jaw that reminds me of that indignity.”
Trestan seemed understandably uneasy standing there, simply watching Savannah slowly saunter closer. His hand twitched nervously, as if it hungered for the handle of a sword to fill it at that moment. Trestan refused to reach for the sword, even though she made it a perfectly easy temptation. Her guard was down, her head unprotected, and her weapon was still by her side. The champion of Abriana was not fooled so easily. He was certain she had a protective ward in place if he attempted to hit her. The Sword of the Spirit could not penetrate those protections on the first blow, though it would disable them from that point onward. After that, it would be a question of whether or not she could react faster than him for a killing blow. He wanted to test her, yet he couldn’t.
Trestan worried for Cat and the others. They had no idea they were being followed. The companions had been caught unprepared at the worst possible time.
Trying to hide his unease, he spoke instead. “I can only imagine what evil you may have planned for those stones. If you come with us I shall treat you fairly, as long as you answer my questions.”
Savannah, abbess of Death, laughed. The cold sound lacked any true mirth.
“It is a game of questions then? That is exactly what I wanted from you today. I would like to ask the first question…if you wouldn’t mind holding this for me?”
Trestan felt the cold handle of a weapon sliding into his hand. That evil woman had come so close that he could feel her breath on his face when she exhaled. He glanced down, only to notice that she was trying to make it easy for him. The abbess had slipped the handle of a dagger in his hand. She released her hold on the blade. Her hands moved over his breastplate, and then both her arms lazily rested on his shoulders. She may have looked like a lover leaning on her heart’s desire, but for the coldness in her eyes. Meanwhile, Trestan stood there uncertainly, with her dagger held in his hand. The evil woman looked to be defenseless if he attempted to cut out her throat.
“You won’t be insulted if I ask the first question?” She asked, through the type of grin that one would wear as they selected which pig they planned to butcher for their meal.
With hardly a pause, she whispered. “What is today’s date?”
With steel in his eyes, Trestan answered. “Your funeral.”
Another cold, disheartening laugh left her throat. “You bluff so well, I would hate to gamble at cards with you. If I recall, it is the first day of Doyal. Aren’t the first days of the month holy days to the worshippers of Abriana?”
The words of the elder at the Embarking came back to haunt Trestan, and of course he didn’t need Savannah to remind him of the significance of this day. “On the first day of every month, we are forbidden from using arms or taking aggressive actions against a foe. How will you fare on these holy days when your loved ones are in danger?”
The lone remaining symbol on Faithful’s Companion reminded him of the one task yet untested.
The same hand which bore Faithful’s Companion also held the handle of the cleric’s dagger.
Savannah leaned so close, with her arms over his shoulders, that he could see the faint pulsing in her neck where one of her arteries lay vulnerable.
She wouldn’t be satisfied with just killing him. She wanted him to break his faith with his goddess before trying to end his life.
* * * * *
Cat lost sight of Trestan due to the trees through which she walked. For some intangible reason, her senses kept drawing her gaze behind her. Maybe her ears detected danger nearby, or perhaps this divine graveyard simply spooked her. It was hard to tell. The half-elf fell behind the others as she sought an opening in the trees by which she could spot Trestan again.
When she regained a vantage point, Cat saw the abbess in her dark armor stepping close to her beloved on the top of that ridge. Trestan stood motionless…defenseless. Cat strung her bow in preparation for a shot. She fit an arrow onto the string and started to raise it.
She heard a magical command from her side. Suddenly, the sensation of lightening coursing through all her nerves assaulted her. Her body underwent one convulsive spasm before she froze in place. The lingering pain made her want to grit her teeth and curl into a ball, but Cat could not move a muscle. The half-elf toppled to the ground.
“You killed her?”
Cat didn’t recognize the female voice, though she suspected the halfling accompanying the other band.
The smooth, captivating voice of the mentalist Jentan answered, though he sounded weary from the exertion of his spell. “Nay. I used a paralytic spell. It blocks her brain from controlling most of her nerves, but it will wear off before long.”
The female voice spoke again, she had moved closer. “That sounds like a good spell! It holds your enemy defenseless for a killing blow. Why don’t you use that more often?”
Revwar’s quiet and commanding voice replied, “Because you see how much it drained him…he can barely stand and his face has gone pale.”
Cat wanted desperately to move or yell a warning to the others. All her effort resulted in the barest of hisses escaping her lips. She was helpless.
Strong hands grabbed her and rolled her onto her back. Cat could see Revwar, Jentan, Kemora, and Foyren standing over her. The latter elf bore the glazed look in his eyes that signified the mentalist’s control over his mind. Cat wondered if her eyes were destined for that same, glazed emptiness.
“We should just finish her off now…” Revwar started to say, but then he paused at seeing something tucked in Cat’s belt. “Ah, what is this? It’s the leather scroll that was wrapped around one of the stones.”
“I thought you said it was useless?” The halfling remarked. Cat noticed even as she talked that she was holding a stiletto covered with poisonous slime.
Jentan answered as Revwar knelt to touch the scroll. “I’m starting to think otherwise. Why is she carrying the scroll now?”
The elf wizard nodded, “We declared it useless because we couldn’t break the code to read it. I signed it long ago, but even then we’d only been read portions of the writing. Most of the meaning lay hidden behind encryption, even before presented to the elves who swore to defend it. The person who held the decoding device was killed when he led us into the demon’s home plane years ago, though he did not have the device on his body.”
The wizard’s yellow eyes lit up with understanding. “This is his daughter! I find myself questioning why Katressa and Trestan were down in that hold examining the stones and scroll while the magic show played out on the deck. Surely a coded scroll is far less entertainment…maybe she has a means to read it?”
Cat’s face stayed rigidly blank thanks to the paralyzing spell. Her emotions couldn’t have given her away even if she had tried.
“She may yet be useful,” Jentan stated.
Revwar and Jentan walked away from Cat and talked in a whispered conversation. Even with her remarkable hearing, the half-elf didn’t catch enough words to make sense of what they conspired. The conversation seemed to come to a close when Revwar stopped to examine some debris on the ground.
“What is this treasure?”
Jentan and Kemora watched as the elf wizard picked up a jeweled, golden necklace from the ground. The mentalist spoke in a surprising tone, “That is the Gitouro necklace, one of the artifacts displayed in the exhibit. It was worn by an immortal during the Godswars. A great find!”
Kemora piped up, “What is it worth if we sell it?”
Jentan scowled, “You can’t just sell it. That is a rare it
em of power, a gift of the gods. It is a bonus that will aid us immeasurably.”
“A bonus for me,” Revwar said, placing the necklace over his head to set alongside the others he wore. “As the phrase goes, ‘Find it, own it.’ I heard about this item, it will be very useful.”
Kemora grumbled a response. They began to separate when Revwar looked to the Jentan. His hand waved out towards Cat’s helpless form.
“Proceed.” Revwar said as he separated from the mentalist. “Kemora and Foyren, come with me.”
“We’re leaving her?” The halfling rogue sounded dismayed. She eyed her dagger wistfully.
Cat’s attention switched to the mentalist as he kneeled beside her. Her ears caught Revwar’s trailing words as the rest were walking away. “The others are just up ahead. We should kill their healer first, then concentrate on the rest…”
Jentan began to weave a spell around Cat. So, they were not going to kill her. They wanted to keep her alive to learn what she knew about the scroll. Suddenly, death would have seemed preferable. She didn’t want her mind turned, or her body used against her friends. She tried to resist his words. It was useless, for the mentalist had already discovered a ‘hook’ that would allow him to play upon Cat’s emotions. He had surmised her loving relationship with the human she accompanied. He guessed, rather correctly, that the issue of their different aging would be some worry in her mind.
Cat tried to defy him, but the emotions stoked were too strong. Cat saw the future that she had feared would pass. The half-elf lost all memory of the relics and the current quest. A prison formed from her own emotions trapped her, seeing only what Jentan wanted her to see.
Cat shed tears as she knelt at Trestan’s gravesite. Her fear of outliving him had come to pass. Her mind lost itself in the grief and loss of her beloved.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 46