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 boomed.
The Zhentilar priest to whom Bear had delivered Joel stepped in front of the dais and spoke. "My novice from Daggerdale with another offering, O Ruinlord."
Bear nodded to the Zhentilar guard, who unlatched Joel and Holly from the ring on the wall. As Bear strode forward, the guards gave his prisoners a rough shove and fell in behind them.
Joel cast an eye at Holly as they were forced toward the dais. She appeared to be quite ill. Her breathing was shallow and her face gray. If the presence of evil had disturbed her before they had entered this place, she must now be suffering.
Bear skirted the corpses of the Bane worshipers, kicking aside the bones of the one who had begged Walinda for mercy. When he stood before the dais, he dropped to one knee. "Darkness falls," he intoned.
"And darkness rises again," the high priest responded impatiently. "Rise, Vermin Bear. What have you brought us?"
Bear stood up. "A paladin of Lathander, Ruinlord," he grunted, "and a priest of Finder."
The high priest laughed. "A priest of Finder? Moander's usurper has priests now?" he asked, sounding most amused.
The high priest's taunt did not exactly offend Joel, but it did annoy him. Rashly the bard spoke up. "Finder does indeed have priests," he announced. "Many of them. And they have many powerful friends in Daggerdale, who will soon discover that we have been kidnapped and send an army to our rescue. Then you'll have a taste of-"
Bear smacked his hand into Joel's mouth, sending the bard reeling backward. "Finder will have one less priest soon," the huge man growled. Joel shook his head slowly, trying to dispel the pain-induced fog that enveloped his head.
The high priest eyed the prisoners and reached out with his right hand and stroked the side of the lumpy statue of his god. Joel felt an unpleasant gripping sensation about his heart. It did not stop until the high priest pulled his hand away from the statue.
"Their souls are strong," the high priest whispered softly. Then he looked back to Bear and the Zhentilar priest. "Yes. They will make an excellent addition to the formal offering of the winged one. You have earned Xvim's favor. You may attend the sacrifice."
"I also bring word of Randal Morn's activities," Bear added. "The Rebel Lord is planning a string of attacks to drive the Zhentarim out of southern Daggerdale."
Joel noted with surprise how many words Bear could string together in one sentence. Too bad Randal Morn couldn't hear him now.
Fortunately, for the Rebel Lord at least, the high priest showed no interest in Bear's report. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, saying, "That news matters little to us."
Joel felt a certain satisfaction seeing Bear's jaw drop. It took the big man several moments to form a reply. "But, Ruinlord," he argued, "if Randal Morn takes the southern part of Daggerdale-"
"If he tries," the high priest interrupted, "it will he one more thing to trouble those Cyric-worshiping fools in Zhentil Keep. We followers of the Godson cannot concern ourselves with the plans of some petty dale lord."
Bear's mouth moved silently as the man tried to summon the courage to contradict his superior. In the end, he abandoned the attempt and muttered, "Yes, Ruinlord."
The high priest dismissed Bear's party with a wave of his hand. After making a hasty bow, Bear turned and strode from the room. The Zhentilar guards pushed Holly and Joel after him.
After the oppressive audience chamber, the air in the hallway felt delightfully cool and rich. The sense of release overwhelmed Joel, and he couldn't restrain himself. "Too bad, Bear!" he said. "You go to all that risk and put up with all those fools in Daggerdale just to bring back Morn's secret plans, and your high priest boss is a bigger clod than you are. I hope you're still around when Daggerdale takes this place so Morn can give you a taste of a dale dagger."
"Aye," Holly agreed.
Bear whirled about. Joel stood firm, mentally prepared, but the huge man did not strike him. Instead, an evil grin spread across the Xvimist's face. "In the darkness of the new moon, you will be sacrificed in a formal offering to the Godson. The Ruinlord will bring you pain such as you have never known before." Bear's eyes shone and his breathing quickened as he continued. "In the end, the Ruinlord will feed to you your beating heart. I have been granted the honor of watching. The Ruinlord may even allow me to participate. I am hoping for it."