Finder's Bane - Kate Novak [25]
Walinda looked directly at Joel, just as she had when he'd been cowering in the grass on the Tethyamar Trail. The ghost of a smile played across her lips.
"Agreed," she announced. "Give yourselves to the swords of the Godson, my children, and perish for the greater good of Bane."
Her last few words were lost in the confusion of the pilgrims, who cried out with astonishment and terror. The high priest of Xvim signaled with both hands, and the guards surrounding the pilgrims pulled their blades.
The acolytes knelt to pray to their dark god, and the Xvimist warriors' swords slit their throats effortlessly. The peasants were less accommodating and tried to bolt for freedom. They trampled over each other in the attempt, but there was no way to escape the blades of their executioners. They were being cut down like cattle.
Holly shouted, "No!" and yanked on the chain attached to the wall, trying to escape to stop the bloodshed.
The Zhentilar standing beside her smacked her in the head with a gauntleted fist and ordered her to be silent.
The paladin sagged against Joel, turning her face away from the massacre. Joel fixed his eyes on Walinda as her people's blood sprayed about the room. The priestess had stepped back to avoid the press of soldiers, but now she stood still, with her hands folded before her. She appeared completely untroubled by the carnage before her. On the contrary, Joel thought he detected a gleam in her eye and a brightness in her face, as if she had just won some noble victory.
One of the peasants broke free from the encircling death and threw himself at Walinda's feet begging, "Mercy, dread sister! Please have mercy!"
Walinda looked down at him as if he were a dog that needed to be put out of its misery. She made no movement or sound as a warrior of Xvim sliced off the peasant's head, splashing the priestess with her follower's blood, Her expression never changed.
A grayish haze, like smoke, rose from the dead and mingled with the scent of incense, the stench of blood, and the piteous moaning of the dying. The Xvimist warriors walked among the fallen, dispatching any who were merely wounded, until the gray haze rose from every individual offered up to Iyachtu Xvim.
The haze thickened into streams of smoke, which joined other streams until there were two rivers of darkness that moved toward the statue of Iyachtu Xvim, drawn there by some evil power. When the rivers of darkness struck the statue's emerald eyes, they were drawn inside the statue.
As the statue fed on the vapors, the corpses grew withered and desiccated, leaving their skin lying wrinkled about their bones. It was as if the Godson sucked out their flesh and blood.
Joel wondered if he had just witnessed the end of the last congregation of Bane's followers in Faerun, Certainly there weren't very many people who would convert to the worship of a dead god.
Jedidiah had once told Joel, "You are Finder's strength, and every follower you bring to him adds to that strength. Take care of yourself, and keep yourself strong for Finder's sake." The bard could imagine how horrified the old priest would be if those dead before him were the wasted faithful of the god Finder.
Walinda did not look as if she thought the sacrifice a waste. She turned back to the high priest and asked coolly, "Are you satisfied with the payment?"
"Well enough," the high priest replied, one hand patting his stomach as if he himself had feasted on the repast of death. He waved a hand. "Escort our guest, Walinda of Bane, to the Temple in the Sky."
Two of the guards stepped forward and flanked the priestess. Walinda seemed to glide between the guards as they marched her from the room. She did not look back.
"Next!" the high priest