“Only my body, Moander,” the bard said. “Not my soul.” Finder veered and dove toward the god’s body with his dagger of para-elemental ice extended. As he struck the Darkbringer’s exterior and broke through to the god’s interior, he was plunged into complete darkness and oblivion. His eyes saw nothing, his body felt nothing, and his mind went completely blank.
21
New Lives
Back in the Lost Vale, Alias, Grypht, Dragonbait, and Olive waited for over an hour, watching the pile of rotting greenery for some sign of Finder and Akabar. When the two men failed to appear, Alias’s anxiety grew unbearable. “We have to find them!” she declared, heading for the path that led down into the vale, but Grypht put a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Use the stone,” he said softly.
“What?” Alias asked in confusion.
“The half of Finder’s stone that he left you. Use it.”
Alias pulled the stone from her cloak. “Akabar,” she said, thinking of the mage, but the stone didn’t even glow. Alias’s hands began to tremble.
The wizard took the stone from the swordswoman’s hands. “I’ll try the direction of Sweetleaf, as a test,” he said, thinking of the saurial cleric he had rescued earlier. The stone lit up and sent a feeble beacon toward the eastern slopes of the vale.
Next Grypht spoke the bard’s name, concentrating on Finder’s face, then his voice, and finally his songs. There was no reaction from the stone.
“There could be many reasons why it will not locate them,” the wizard said. “Because they are possessed, or enchanted with a misdirection, or—” Grypht halted.
“Or dead,” Alias said flatly. There was no sense denying it. She felt completely numb. Finder had saved the Realms from Moander, but it had cost his life and Akabar’s.
“We should look after the living,” Grypht said after a moment. “There are saurials who need our help.”
Alias nodded, but as the adventurers trekked down to the east side of the vale, the air around them grew heavy with the scent of roses and the sounds of Alias’s and Olive’s weeping.
In the early light of dawn, Olive climbed back up to the Singing Cave. She had spent the rest of the night nursing saurials until she was sick of looking at their scaly hides. She needed to sleep, but more than that, she needed to be alone. Now she sat in the mouth of the cave, watching the sun rise over the Desertsmouth Mountains and listening to the wind whistle around her, weeping silently.
Someone in the cave behind her cleared his throat politely and asked, “Mistress Ruskettle? Are you all right?” Olive looked around listlessly. Breck Orcsbane stood in the cave; assembled behind him were Elminster, Mourngrym, Morala, Zhara, and three young saurials.
“You’re a little late,” Olive said. “We already took care of Moander—Finder did, that is.” With a wave of her hand, she indicated the trail of frost-covered vegetation strewn down the mountainside, ending in a large, frozen mass of greenery.
Lord Mourngrym whistled in awe. “How did he do that?” he asked.
“He broke open the finder’s stone and used the piece of para-elemental ice that was inside,” Olive said.
Elminster and Morala exchanged surprised looks. “Where is Finder now?” Elminster asked.
“He went into the god’s body to find Akabar,” Olive said, “but he never came out again. Alias has a broken piece of the finder’s stone she’s been using to locate missing saurials for Grypht, but when she tried to locate Finder and Akabar, nothing happened.” Olive choked back a sob and forced herself to say what she didn’t want to admit: “They’re both dead.” The halfling looked up at Zhara. “I’m … sorry,” she said to the Turmish priestess.
Zhara lowered her head. “I knew already,” she said softly. “My husband’s spirit visited me in a dream last night. He is with our gods, and his soul is at peace.”
Olive looked at Zhara with surprise. “Did he say anything about Finder?” she asked hopefully.
Akabar’s wife shook her head.
Olive turned her head, as if she were looking at the vale below. The vale blurred before her eyes as she blinked back more tears.
“I’ve brought Grypht’s apprentices,” Elminster said. “They’re anxious to see him.”
Olive wiped her eyes on her tunic sleeve and turned again to speak with the others. “Grypht’ll be glad to see them, too. He can use all the help he can get. Most of the saurials are pretty sick from being possessed. Moander’s vines of possession didn’t leave them time to get enough food to eat or heal any injuries.”
“Morala and I have brought magic to help them,” Zhara said. “Take us to them, please.”
Olive led the others out of the cave and down to the eastern slopes of the vale, where the saurials were recovering from their ordeal.
Elminster and Grypht’s apprentices hurried forward to meet with the saurial wizard, while Morala went to Alias’s side. The elderly priestess looked up at the swordswoman. “I’m sorry that you lost your friend Akabar … and Finder, too,” she said.
Alias acknowledged Morala’s sympathy with a nod. Tossing her head proudly, she said, “Before he died, Finder told me about Flattery.”
Morala looked down at the ground, and Alias could see that the priestess’s eyes were moist. After several seconds, Morala looked back up at her. “Then I am doubly sorry for your loss,” the old woman whispered.
“Thank you,” Alias said sincerely, though she was a little surprised to discover that Morala appeared to grieve for a man she’d once condemned. “Did you know that Finder destroyed the finder’s stone to try to rescue Akabar from Moander?” Alias asked.
The priestess nodded. “The halfling told us,” she said. “She seems quite upset by his death.”
Alias watched as Olive bent over an injured saurial and checked his bandages. “Finder and Olive were a good influence on each other. Olive’s in the habit of behaving herself now, but it’s not the same to her without knowing it will please Finder. I’ll always feel empty whenever I sing, wishing he were there to hear.”
A saurial nearby chirped for water, and Alias excused herself to tend to the creature.
Once she’d picked up the basics about the saurials’ physiology, Morala took charge of the work to be done. She dismissed Alias, Dragonbait, and Olive, ordering them to get some rest, and the three adventurers gratefully obeyed. Next the white-haired priestess mustered Zhara, Breck Orcsbane, and Lord Mourngrym and set them to work making a comfortable campsite for the hundred or so saurials that remained, most of whom were too weak to care for themselves, let alone one another. By the time Alias awoke four hours later, Morala had cleaned, fed, and sheltered every saurial in sight. She and Zhara had also healed and cured diseases in as many of them as their power and potions could handle in one day.
The swordswoman joined Grypht, his three apprentices, and Elminster for a meal of bread and fruit under the shade of an old oak tree. The five mages had just finished tracking down those saurials who had escaped the cones of cold the night before. Grypht was beginning to look exhausted, but he wouldn’t sleep until he had finalized arrangements for his tribe’s welfare.
Grypht explained to Alias, “My people and I could return to our world today, but the land that belongs to our tribe has been poisoned by Moander’s minions. It will be years before any plant or creature could live there. Our whole tribe would become homeless vagabonds at a time when they are already very weak. Elminster thinks we should stay here in the Realms, in this vale. We can work at healing the scar Moander forced us to put on this land. What do you think?”
“I think that would be wonderful,” the swordswoman replied.