Finder's Bane - Kate Novak [37]
The winged woman gave a sigh of relief and lay bad down on the straw. She was drenched in sweat, but her suffering was greatly alleviated. She turned her head to look up at the paladin.
"Thanks," she said.
"You're welcome," Holly said with a weak grin. Worry over the woman's agony, combined with her own aches and pains, had nearly exhausted the girl. She leaned back against the cell wall and mopped her dark brow with her sleeve.
Jas sat up again, then stood. Gingerly she began spreading her wings. When no pain manifested itself, the woman flared the wings out to their full span. The pinion feathers grazed the sides of the cell. A breeze ran across the floor and sent straw swirling about the room.
Holly watched with delight. She thought the wings were beautiful. It wasn't until Jas lowered them that the girl focused on the woman herself.
Jas was smaller than Holly and quite slender, but beneath her torn black leather leggings and jerkin, her muscles were as firm as a warrior's. Her short, dark hair framed a pale pink face. A longer strand of bangs curled between her milky brown eyes.
Despite their soft color, there was something hard about Jas's eyes. They reminded Holly of the cold, impassive expressions she'd seen on the faces of the Daggerdale warriors who were tired of fighting but unwilling to do anything else. It was a look that made Holly sad.
Jas held out her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Holly. You from around these parts?"
Holly grasped the woman's wrist in the fashion of dalesfolk, noting the sinewy, tough muscles in her right arm. The winged woman's arm twitched slightly in surprise, but then she responded by grasping Holly's wrist.
"I'm from Daggerdale," the paladin replied. "That's just south of here. Joel's from Berdusk."
"Joel?" Jas asked with a raised eyebrow.
"We were abducted together. He's a priest of Finder."
"Finder? That's one I've never heard of," Jas said.
"He's a new god. He was a bard who destroyed Moander and took the Darkbringer's power. His people are supposed to be renewing art, encouraging it to grow and change."
"Dandy," Jas said as she examined the cell door. "Drawbolt and crossbar. Simple and effective," she muttered. She gave the bars of the door an angry shake. “I guess a pickable lock would be too much to expect from groundlings. So who's this Cynic guy the Banites talked about?" she asked Holly.
"Cyric," Holly corrected. "He took Bane's position when Torm killed Bane. Then Cyric went mad. That's when Bane's son Iyachtu Xvim seized Bane's power. That's who they're going to sacrifice us to-Iyachtu Xvim."
Jas began sweeping her hands over the rough walls of the cell, giving experimental shoves every few feet. "I leave for a few years and the whole pantheon changes,' she muttered. "Are you sure Bane's dead? That priestess witch seemed pretty sure of herself. I know she was casting spells. It took plenty of magic to bring down my crew." Her eyes burned with anger at the memory.
"It must have been some trick," Holly insisted "Everyone knows Bane is dead. What happened to your crew?"
"They're all dead. After that Bane bitch stole my ship, she tortured them to death. Johenri, Thordis, Gildstar, and my first mate, Arandes. Arandes lasted for six days. He was a tough old giff. They stripped off his skin and used him for a figurehead until his heart finally let go.” Jas stopped her exploration and leaned her forehead against the wall. Holly could tell from the way her back shook that the winged woman was stifling her sobs.
"We found your friend's body," Holly said softly. "The dalesfolk gave him a proper burial."
Jas didn't reply, but she returned to examining the walls, only now her shoves on the stone were more forceful.
"So that floating ship was yours?" Holly asked.
"Floating ship? You mean the nautiloid. It doesn't just float. It can fly. It can sail the phlogiston between the spheres, something, fortunately, that the groundling thieves who stole it can't comprehend. Yes, the nautiloid's mine. I took it from the illithids."
"Illithids?" Holly asked.
"I believe you groundlings