Finder's Bane

by Novak, Kate

  “Cyric, using Bane’s voice, warns you to leave Zhentil Keep. He keeps you on hold for a few years while he launches a few other plans. Then he says it’s time to find the Hand of Bane. You’ve probably heard a rumor of it, or maybe the Godson knew something about his father’s faithful in the Temple in the Sky. As an added bonus, Iyachtu gets to eat the souls of your followers. Of course, both gods will keep you in the dark until you’ve handed them the hand. Then they can tell you that you were the one to betray Lord Bane to them.”

  “It is not true,” Walinda growled, rising angrily to her feet. “Do you think I would mistake an imposter for my lord’s voice? Never! It was Lord Bane who spoke to me.” Joel noted how Jedidiah’s eyes followed the finder’s stone. The priestess now seemed so overwrought that the Rebel Bard had just made up his mind to rush her and try to grab the stone.

  From the darkened doorway of the cabin, a raspy, dark, sepulchral voice spoke. “Cease your whining, fool woman. Can’t you see the old priest is only goading you?”

  Whoever had spoken remained hidden in the shadows, but Joel could sense that something very evil and very powerful had come onto the deck. Suddenly the bard completely lost his nerve. A wave of nausea and vertigo swept through him, nearly knocking him down. A cold pang of fear lanced through him, paralyzing him. Then despair settled on his heart, a despair so heavy that tears welled in the young man’s eyes.

  Joel looked at the other members of his party to see their reaction to the evil presence. Jas was crouched in a fetal position, her wings covering her body. Holly’s face was twisted in fear, and yet the paladin was trying to stand. Her struggle was short and in vain. She fell to her knees, pressing her hands to her temples.

  Jedidiah, however, didn’t seem to mind the presence, except to wrinkle his nose as if he’d smelled something unpleasant. He stood tall and straight, like a mast in a storm. Joel took a deep breath and steadied himself. If Jedidiah could stand up to this assault, he wouldn’t let the old priest down. The Rebel Bard forced himself to peer into the shadows inside the cabin door.

  A figure stepped out of the shadows. It stood upright, taller than the average man, wearing a chest plate of black armor polished to a mirrorlike finish and engraved with the symbol of Bane in blood-red filigree. The figure’s broad shoulders were covered with huge spiked plates, which made the creature seem even more massive. Its arms and legs were covered with black fabric, which in turn was covered with fine scales, as supple as a black dragon’s hide. A red cape fluttered behind the figure.

  The body beneath the armor was even more alarming. The creature, Joel realized, had to be some sort of undead thing. Its skin was as creased as a crumpled piece of paper, yellowed with age and so translucent that brown bone showed from beneath the skin. The flesh around its mouth had worn away, leaving tatters of skin about the creature’s brown teeth. Its tongue was black. The sagging flesh of each of its cheeks bore a tattoo of a red lightning bolt. Where its eyes should have been were deep wells with a glimmering white ember of undead hatred at the bottom of each. Dry shoots of white hair sprouted from its mostly bald head. Sparkling on its brow was a white diamond as large as a fingernail. “I am the essence of Bane,” the creature said, its voice creaking like the iron gate of a crypt. “See me and fear me.”

  Joel flinched at the voice, while Holly covered her ears. Beneath her wings, Jas shuddered. Jedidiah bowed and said, “Greetings, Bane. You’re not looking so lively, even for an essence. I was wondering if you were going to show yourself.”

  The creature gave a sharp, barking laugh and lurched forward. “You aren’t looking quite yourself, either, priest of Finder,” it said.

  Jedidiah frowned and his brow furrowed.

  The creature strode forward, and Walinda rose and stepped away from the chair. The creature reached out, and Walinda handed it the finder’s stone. All the while, Joel noted, the priestess kept her head bowed and never raised it to look at the creature. The thing that claimed to be the essence of Bane sat down in the chair.

  “I thought,” the creature said, “to let my slave handle these negotiations. Once I realized who you were, however, I knew it would require someone with more skill to bargain with you. We will talk as one being of power to another.”

  “I’ll be prepared to talk,” Jedidiah replied, “when you stop painwracking my companions with your petty magic.”

  “It has always been my practice to begin my dealing from a position of strength, but if it will put you more at ease …” The creature shrugged.

  Joel felt his fear and despair subside like an ocean tide. Holly was able to rise to her feet. Jas stirred beneath her wings and looked out at the creature with disgust.

  “You’ve been duped, Walinda of Bane,” Jedidiah said. “This isn’t the spirit of Bane. It’s a banelich, a former High Imperceptor of the church, made undead by Bane—a little gift Bane used to give to his most groveling mortal yes-men. They go a little mad when they realize there is no greater power in death than there was in their pathetic lives. This one obviously has delusions of grandeur.”

  Walinda didn’t look up at Jedidiah. Instead, she remained beside the creature with her head bowed.

  “You are half right, priest of Finder,” the creature said. “Centuries ago I was made a banelich by Lord Bane. Since the Time of Troubles, however, I have been much more. When Torm slew Bane, my god’s spirit chose to honor me by housing itself in my form. I hold his personality, his ego, his essence. I can even grant this slave her clerical spells. I am now, for all intents and purposes, Bane.”

  “What do you want from us?” Joel demanded, his patience with this horror wearing thin.

  “Ah, well. It is only fitting that my slave”—he waved his hand in Walinda’s direction—”should have slaves of her own. It is also practical. Loyal though she is, the tasks I must set for her may be beyond her powers. I thought to reward her with slaves who would amuse her”—the banelich motioned with his hand to indicate Joel—”as well as those who would be useful,” he added, waving his hand at Jedidiah, Holly, and Jas.

  Walinda raised her head a fraction of an inch and met the young bard’s look with a sly smile. Joel felt a flush rise to his face.

  Holly stepped forward in front of Joel and declared hotly, “We are not slaves, and we will never serve such as you!”

  “How bravely you speak, little paladin of Lathander,” the banelich said with a gravely chuckle. “But how little you know. This one,” he said, pointing at Jedidiah, “would do anything to regain the finder’s stone. And this one,” he said, pointing to Joel, “will do anything to help him. He may even find serving my slave pleasurable.”

  Joel caught Walinda watching him again, and he turned away, fixing his eyes firmly on Jedidiah. “We’ll perform a service in exchange for the finder’s stone, but we will not serve you or yours,” Jedidiah said sharply. “I presume the task you had in mind is retrieving the Hand of Bane.”

  The banelich nodded. “Naturally. You are familiar with some of the other planes, the homes of the gods and the tanar’ri and the archons. The outer planes share a common ground known as the Outlands. The hand of Bane is—”

  “In Sigil,” Jedidiah interrupted. “The Hub of the Universe, the Cage, City of Doors, Place of Mazes.”

  “You are every bit as clever as your reputation,” the banelich said, its undead voice revealing the tiniest hint of surprise.

  “Walinda said it was in a place where no god could steal it,” Jedidiah explained. “That pretty much defines Sigil, doesn’t it?”

  The banelich nodded. “You will fetch for me the Hand of Bane. Then I will reward you with this bauble,” he said, holding the finder’s stone aloft in a skeletal hand. With that, the creature rose and walked back toward the darkness of the cabin.

  Jedidiah stepped forward and called out, “Banelich!”

  The banelich turned, and Joel felt the bottom drop out of his stomach again. The creature’s hatred was so oppressive Joel’s joints ached from trying
to stand, and he had trouble breathing. He heard Holly whimper and Jas growl.

  “Yes?” the banelich asked.

  “When I fetch the Hand of Bane,”Jedidiah said, “it will be for myself. I’ll exchange it for the finder’s stone.’

  The banelich pulled the tatters of its flesh back into a smile. It nodded in agreement to the subtle change Jedidiah had made to the wording of their bargain. Then it turned back to the door and disappeared into the cabin.

  Joel breathed with relief when the weight of the creature’s stare had been removed.

  Walinda sat once again in the chair. “It is so good to have you aboard, Poppin,” she said smiling at Joel. “And the rest of you as well,” she added, her eyes settling maliciously on Jas.

  “We will use this ship to fly over the Desertsmouth Mountains and into the Great Desert, Anauroch,” the priestess informed them. “Buried under the sand are the ruins of the fabled kingdom of Netheril. There, among the debris of one of their ruined citadels, is a gate to the Outlands, the shared land of the outer planes. Our goal, the city of Sigil, rises from the center of the Outlands.”

  The gate you speak of is called Cat’s Gate. I know the place,” Jedidiah said. “You can drop us off at the mouth of the River Ashaba. We’ll meet you at Cat’s Gate four days hence.”

  “You will go with me to Netheril now,” Walinda declared.

  Jedidiah strode behind the chair and leaned over the priestess’s shoulder. “Tell me, slave, can you surrender power and still wield it?” he asked sharply.

  “No,” Walinda replied automatically. She looked up, startled, at the old priest. “So you are acquainted with some of the tenets of my faith. What does that prove? You will still accompany me to Cat’s Gate forthwith.”

  Jedidiah leaned in close to the priestess’s ear and whispered, “When you held the finder’s stone, you wielded power. But you surrendered that power to the disgusting monster you see fit to worship. Since it holds the finder’s stone, I made my deal with it. I will recover the Hand of Bane because I must have the finder’s stone back. If you want to help—and reap some of that abomination’s gratitude—you will meet me at the gate. In the meantime, I will escort my friends to a place of safety where we can rest comfortably before the journey and I can gather together such items as we will need to find the Hand of Bane.”

  Jedidiah strode over to the ship’s railing. “In any case, there is no way you can hold us against our will … unless you were to call on the banelich to aid you.” Walinda glared at the older priest, and Joel realized what Jedidiah must have already known: Walinda did not dare give the appearance of being weak before the banelich. The priestess shrugged and said, “There is no need to get off at the River Ashaba. This ship can carry you to the Lost Vale. That is where you’re headed, isn’t it?”

  Jedidiah chuckled. “I’m not about to reveal the location of the Lost Vale to you, my dear. Finder has a temple there, and your god has a reputation of being a rude guest in other gods’ temples. And after having been enslaved by Moander, the inhabitants of the vale would prefer to avoid the attentions of any more evil gods.”

  “I will discover it when I fly over the mountains,” Walinda said with a shrug.

  “You can try,” Jedidiah said with a grin.

  Joel nodded. The old priest had already explained to him that one could not find the Lost Vale by searching. It had to be entered magically.

  “You’d best go inform your lord of our plans,” Jedidiah told Walinda, “so he can set course accordingly. Due south of here should be perfect.”

  Walinda rose. “I will do so.” She gave Joel a knowing smile, then went into the cabin.

  After a few moments, the ship rose, then began to move southward so smoothly it felt as if they were on a raft adrift in a smooth-flowing river.

  Joel joined Jedidiah at the ship’s rail. They stared down at the bluff below them and watched the flames of their former campfire recede. “If the banelich is undead,” the Rebel Bard asked in a whisper, “can’t you destroy it or send it away with a prayer like you did with the skeletons and zombies?”

  Jedidiah shook his head. “Walinda has consecrated this vessel to Bane. That makes it the banelich’s turf. If I had the power that I put in the finder’s stone, I might have taken the banelich in combat. Of course, if I had that power, the banelich wouldn’t have come near me. It must have been watching us, and when it saw me pouring power into the stone, it seized its chance. That cloak Walinda has—the one that shielded you from the beholder’s sight in the Temple in the Sky—she must have been wearing that. I didn’t feel her stealing the stone, but I remember smelling her—the perfume in her hair. If I hadn’t been concentrating on turning the undead, I think I would have detected her. At any rate, we could fight the banelich, but there’s no guarantee we’d all come out alive, and there’s a good chance the finder’s stone would be destroyed in the banelich’s death throes. I’m sorry, Joel, but I just can’t risk it.”

  “But you can’t give the Hand of Bane to the banelich,” Joel argued.

  Jedidiah smiled grimly. “You were afraid of what Finder would think when you allied yourself with Walinda. Now I have to decide which of two evils would displease Finder more—the loss of his relic containing the power he granted me or the resurrection of Bane.”

  Jedidiah turned to gaze at Jas and Holly. They were leaning against the railing as far from the cabin as they could get. Holly was still clutching her head. Her paladin ability to sense evil was overloading from prolonged exposure to the banelich’s proximity. Jas was stroking the girl’s hair comfortingly, even though the winged woman herself looked deathly pale and exhausted.

  “We may find another course yet,” Jedidiah said, “between now and when we’ve retrieved the Hand of Bane. In the meantime, I’m going to help your companions. The banelich’s painwrack spell can actually do physical damage to its victims. As priests of Finder, we were protected from it by our god, but they weren’t. When Walinda returns, try to keep her entertained so she isn’t goading Jas and Holly. The strife only serves to amuse the banelich and might possibly be nourishing °

  Joel nodded. He watched the old priest tending Holly, singing a Dales lullaby while he used his healing power to ease the pain in her head. Holly fell asleep with her head in Jas’s lap. Jedidiah then spoke softly with Jas. The winged woman looked angry and disdainful, but as the bard spoke, her features softened. In the end, she nodded. Jedidiah laid his hands on her shoulders, and healing energy rippled about the woman’s body. When the old priest had finished, he sat back beside Jas, leaning against the railing. Apparently the winged woman had come to some sort of peace with Joel’s mentor, for she laid her head on his shoulder to sleep.

  Jedidiah closed his eyes. Joel couldn’t remember ever seeing the old priest so tired. For that matter, he couldn’t remember ever seeing the old priest tired at all.

  Joel waited for Walinda to reappear. It was nearly half an hour before she emerged from the cabin. She carried two goblets and joined him at the railing.

  “Bane is most generous. He has agreed to the old man’s request,” she said.

  “I don’t think it was a request,” Joel countered.

  Walinda appeared not to have heard Joel’s comment “I thought we might drink to our quest,” she said, handing him a goblet.

  Joel met the woman’s forthright gaze. Several thoughts raced through his head. Jedidiah had asked him to entertain this woman, ostensibly to keep her from goading Jas and Holly into any fights, but the old priest was canny enough to realize that Walinda’s interest in the Rebel Bard could be used to his advantage. For Jedidiah’s sake, to regain the finder’s stone, Joel was prepared to let himself be used. Still, there were things he could not do.

  “I would prefer to drink to the return of the finder’s stone to Finder’s priests,” he said, holding up his goblet.

  “Then I will drink to the resurrection of Lord Bane,” Walinda replied.

  They sipped from their drink
s. The liquid was mead, old and mellow.

  “Is there nothing to which we can both drink?” Walinda asked demurely.

  “I don’t think we have all that much in common,” Joel said, laying his left hand on the railing.

  “I know,” Walinda said “We can toast our escape from the Temple in the Sky.”

  Joel lowered his eyes with embarrassment.

  “It’s all right, Poppin,” the priestess said, laying her right hand on his left. “I forgive you for abandoning me.”

  “Are Banites allowed to forgive?” Joel asked in mock surprise.

  Walinda lowered her eyes as if she’d truly been chastised, then looked back up at the Rebel Bard. “Perhaps I should have said I understand that you were not at fault. My lord came to my rescue in this ship. He found a way to make it fly. His power grows with my faith,” she said.

  Recalling Jedidiah’s explanation of the spelljammer, Joel replied, “Actually, any spellcaster, priest or mage, can make this ship fly.”

  Walinda’s eyes half closed in anger.

  “Your lord didn’t tell you that?” Joel asked. “Well, you are just a slave,” he added, relishing the chance to make her feel less exalted.

  Walinda winced as if she’d been cut. She looked back up at Joel, a sly smile on her face. She slid her right hand up from his fingers into the cuff of his sleeve and squeezed his wrist. “See? We do have something in common. You want to degrade me.”

  Startled by the priestess’s words and the gleam in the her eyes, Joel pulled his arm away from her grasp and looked away, into the night sky. He couldn’t think of a safe reply that was either honest or sensible.

  “You remind me of myself,” Walinda said, “before I met my god. I did not know my purpose. I could command a legion and break any man in interrogation. I could heal soldiers who had earned Bane’s grace and raise the dead. I had so many duties, yet my worship seemed to have no purpose. Now I know fully why I am a priestess. I serve Bane. I am his servant, his slave. It is the sweetest knowledge imaginable. There is nothing greater I can be.”