"What was that?" Joel whispered.
"An eye tyrant," Walinda replied softly. "Some call it a beholder. The beast cultists are so debased they worship it. Bane warned me of its presence here, that it was the greatest danger I could face."
"Great," Joel whispered sarcastically. "I don't suppose Bane happened to mention how you were supposed to get down to the ground."
"Lord Bane is all-wise and all-powerful," the priestess retorted. "He told me I would find you, Poppin, and that you would find a way to escape from here."
Six
Holly kept an eye on the woman sleeping on the straw in the corner. The cultists had shoved the paladin into the same cell as the winged woman the priestess of Bane had offered the Xvimists. The woman had not stirred upon the paladin's arrival or since then. Holly waited patiently, knowing rest was a crucial part of healing, not to mention a temporary escape from cares. Like any Daggerdale girl worth her keep, she'd learned something of the healer's art long before she'd accepted the calling to paladinhood. That knowledge added immensely to her success when calling on healing powers from her god. She sat beside the woman, visually examining her injuries, mentally preparing a list of things she would need to do to restore her to health.
For the most part, the wounds on the woman's flesh, while undoubtedly painful, were minor, the work of a skilled torturer intent on keeping the victim alive a long time. It was the damage to the woman's wings that worried Holly more. They dangled at odd angles. The ulna and radius of both wings had been broken, one snapped, the other crushed. The humerus of the right wing had been dislocated from the woman's back. Several of the primary and secondary feathers had been plucked away. The covert feathers on one wing were scorched and curled, probably by a hot iron poker.
Holly could imagine how the torture had gone, but she pushed that thought aside. It wasn't until the woman began to thrash and cry out in her sleep that Holly decided waking her might be more merciful than letting her sleep. She reached out and shook the woman's shoulder gently but firmly, saying, "Wake up. It's all right. You're only dreaming."
The woman's eyes opened, and she glared at Holly for several moments before she seemed to get her bearings. "Who in the nine hells are you?" she demanded.
"Holly Harrowslough," the girl replied. "I'm a prisoner like yourself."
"That's too bad," the woman muttered. She sat up; her face contorted in agonizing pain as the bones in her wings twisted about. "I'm Jas," she said between clenched teeth. "Short for Jasmine. Just call me Jas."
"I can heal your wings," Holly said.
Jas's eyes narrowed, reappraising the girl before her. "What are you, some priest acolyte?" she asked.
"I'm a paladin of the Order of the Aster, Protectors of Lathander's church," Holly explained.
"A paladin. No tour of Toril would be complete without one," the winged woman muttered sarcastically. Try curing that nasty bruise on your face," Jas said, pointing to the mark left by the Zhentilar's gauntlet. "I might be a little more than you can handle."
"I'm not hurt as badly as you," Holly argued. "And I have healed wings before-the wings of birds, that is. I bow how crucial it is to arrange the bones correctly. A wing healed crooked doesn't fly."
"A paladin healing broken birdie wings. It fits somehow," Jas said.
"Not just any birds," Holly explained patiently. "Pigeons and hawks. My people use them as messenger birds in our fight against the Zhentarim." "What difference does it make?" Jas snarled. "They're going to kill us anyway."
"Well, I was working on the assumption that we would escape once you were healed," Holly snapped, "but if you would rather try to escape in that condition… Unless, of course, you aren't interested in escaping."
Jas shrugged and grimaced at the pain it caused her.
"I realize it seems hopeless, but that could just be the pain overcoming your will," Holly argued. "Please, let me try."
Jas sighed. "Go ahead, kiddo, if it'll make you happy.'
Holly knelt behind Jas. She removed the tattered remnants of the cape that hung between Jas's wing and set it aside. As gently as she could, she raised the woman's right wing and aligned the broken bones. The bones were as light as a bird's, the feathers soft and warm.
Jas whimpered, despite her tough manner, and her eyes welled with tears. Quickly Holly whispered a prayer to Lathander. The rosy dawn-colored light about her hands buried themselves in the pink feathers, and the cracked bones knit together in a perfectly straight line. With great pleasure, Holly watched pinfeathers grow at a magical rate, filling in the spaces left by the plucked primary and secondary feathers. Without pause, the paladin proceeded to work on the left wing.
The crushed bones were harder to manipulate into place. Jas grunted. Her teeth were clenched so tightly together the muscles in her jawline were twitching from the strain. As soon as she'd healed this set of bones with a second prayer to her god, Holly twisted the wing, gave it a sharp tug, and pushed it back into the socket in Jas's back. A final prayer healed the swelling about the joint.
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.