Teldin's shape eclipsed the light from the corridor. The guard's eyes blinked once, then slowly swiveled to look Teldin in the eyes. "C–Cloakmaster?"
Teldin nodded. "Yes, yes, it's- "
Then the guard's eyes rolled up to expose only the whites.
His back arched in sudden, violent pain, bending him like a bow above the bunk, and thick black smoke roiled from his mouth and nose. Teldin released his grasp, feeling the intense heat building within the man's flesh.
"Cloakmaster," Hath said, but his voice was a hiss, the telltale rasp and the broken syntax of a neogi.
"Cloakmaster,… elf hostage have we in place you find cannot. Save you must Cwelanassss, shemeat… precious is your cloak we need. Barter no. One chance only: cloak for meat. Find us you will. Soon do, before shared meat is by brood…" Then Hath collapsed onto the bed, his eyes gray with the heat of the black fire churning out of him. The smoke stopped as suddenly as it had started. His body caved in with a sickening sigh. CassaRoc felt the guard's wrist, then jerked his hand away from the intense heat. He looked at Teldin and shook his head. Teldin stood silently, then grunted and kicked the end table across the room. CassaRoc and the others watched him, almost sharing his loss. "Neogi bastards!" Teldin shouted.
"I recognized the voice from council meetings. That was Master Coh. He's the one that's taken her," informed CassaRoc.
He stroked his long beard and thought about it. "I tell you, he has something to do with the attack. Coh is a black mage. I'd wager that he and the Fool are plotting something together."
Teldin took a deep breath. He faced CassaRoc. "No damned neogi is going to harm Cwelanas again," he said. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Alert Chaladar, Leoster, and our allies. Start getting the warriors together and arm them- arm them well.
"Break out the catapults. We're getting into this war far sooner than I had intended — but I'll be damned if I let Cwelanas die under the claws of the neogi."
Chapter Seventeen
"… Many are the servants of evil. They are drawn to the flame of goodness like moths in the dark, and their mistress is the Queen of the Abyss…"
Admiral Loquestor Hellfire VI, elf lord; reign of Blacksteed
Far beneath the inhabited citadel that stretched across the back of the Spelljammer, the being once known as Romar, who was once a captain of the great ship many years ago, sat upon his bleached throne of bones. In a globe of sight floating above the floor the Fool watched the neogi community being attacked by the beholders and their vicious allies. He watched as the neogi were chased into their tower like the sadistic cowards he knew they were.
He gestured with a skeletal hand. The globe's view shifted, and he watched as the Cloakmaster shook an enchanted human in the Tower of Thought, and the guard erupted in black flame.
"Coh." The Fool hated the sound of that disgusting neogi name.
He should not have been surprised, but he had had no idea that Coh could possibly have been that cunning. "He has his own agenda," the Fool spoke to himself. "And he has nowhere else to run but to sanctuary." He laughed. "Here."
His laughter echoed off the walls. "But I have my own sweet agenda," he said, "and it does not call for a further alliance with a trained neogi. The woman will be mine, whether he knows it or not, and Coh…"He giggled madly, mocking the neogi master. "And mine will neogi master be. Coh meat will be."
The Fool rose from his throne, laughed, and kicked out at an undead rat, laid flat on its back. The corpse bounced off the wall. The Fool was still weak from the fledgling's psionic attack, but she would not be given a second chance to defeat him at his own work.
Oh, no.
"Gaeadrelle Goldring, the kender… oh, she will die, too. Oh, yes… a glorious, painful death, one especially suited for hurting me- me! — the one true captain…"
The Fool glowered angrily and screamed to himself.
"She will return… if only to help her precious Cloakmaster… and I will be ready to taste her fear…"He pondered a moment and grinned. "Perhaps my… servants would enjoy the taste of her soft, raw flesh… her cold terror…"
He decided. "The kender will be dealt with. But first, the neogi.
"Then, death for all… as I take the Spelljammer to its ultimate destiny… inside the fiery depths of the Broken Sphere."
Even in his humiliation, the Fool laughed and laughed and laughed.
The Fool knew that Death, ultimately, was a cosmic comedian. And who better to be court jester to Death than the Fool?
Chapter Eighteen
"One shall come under the auspices of shadow. One shall come to deliver the darkness. One shall come whom all have wronged. One shall come without purpose. One shall find purpose. One shall be the Redeemer. All are One."
Prophecies of Bama, pirate bard of Duval; reign of Fausto.
"Ships ahoy!"
The shout from the roof echoed down through the Tower of Thought, and Teldin thought he could hear the cry repeated loudly from the other nearby towers of the Human Collective.
He stepped out of the tower's weapons room and started up the stone stairs to the roof. Outside he found CassaRoc and Chaladar staring up into the sky. CassaRoc raised a cylindrical tube to one eye and stared through it. He squinted against the bright light of the flow. "I don't know," he said to the paladin. "Never seen their like before."
Chaladar held out his hand. "Let me see."
CassaRoc handed him the tube, rimmed in brass. Chaladar aimed and peered through it for a long time. "Vaguely Shou design, I think. The wings, or fins, are like those of dragons. I'm not sure, though. They're some of the largest vessels I've ever seen."
Teldin came up behind them. "The spyglass. Is it gnomish work?"
CassaRoc turned, surprised. "We didn't hear you come up." He nodded. "Yep. Bought it off a gnome a few years back, around Evermeet. The only thing a gnome has ever designed that has a practical use, I'd say. Well worth the silver I paid."
Teldin took the glass and hefted it. He had used one before, in another sphere. This one seemed more streamlined and advanced, a tube carved of wood, about a foot long, with glass disks affixed to both ends by rings of brass. He aimed at a distant tower and looked once, marveling at the device's seemingly magical ability to bring far objects into clear focus; then he aimed it toward the speck in the phlogiston where the two leaders had been looking.
In seconds, he spotted them. CassaRoc pointed out five other areas in the flow, where only distant specks could be seen against the swirling chaos. Teldin whistled.
In all, nineteen ships were closing on the Spelljammer. Six were deadly deathspiders and a mindspider-probably planning to rendezvous with B'Laath'a, Teldin surmised-and, far in the distance, were two incredibly huge vessels that Teldin could not identify, ships that resembled giant, finned centipedes. As they sailed, the ships' segmented hulls twisted as though worming their way through the flow. Beyond them, Teldin picked out three hammerships, an elven man-o-war, a squid ship, two nautiloids, a galleon, and three wasps.
"The deathspiders," he said. "I could be wrong, but I have a hunch that the neogi will try to take advantage of B'Laath'a, the neogi mage who assaulted Cwelanas. They'll be sure to join the neogi in their fight against us, and they'll probably try to kill me again as well." Chaladar nodded. "Vicious, evil beings." CassaRoc said, "Be sure to expect other assassination attempts, too."
"The other ships nearby," Teldin continued, "I've never seen before. They remind me of dragon ships with the colors, and the ornamentation, but much larger. And I'll tell you this.-they don't look friendly."
"They're still a few hours away. We still have time to get to the neogi and get Cwelanas back," CassaRoc said.
Teldin was silent.
Cwelanas. Yes, we will get her back.
They stared into the flow for a while, keeping track of the converging ships. Even at this great distance, they could tell that some ships were already battling among themselves. Ballistae were firing from the deat
hspiders, and missiles were sent hurtling into a deck of a hammership. Catapults aboard the hammership rained boulders upon the swifter deathspiders, but they turned away before they could take much damage.
Teldin looked down upon the Spelljammer with CassaRoc's gnomish spyglass. From the tower, he could see that the open market had closed, probably for fear of war, and that sporadic fighting among the races had already broken out across the ship. A better view could be had from the pinnacle of the Guild tower, Teldin knew.
"What does the watch atop the Guild tower report?" he asked.
Chaladar leaned back against the tower railing and removed his helmet. He ran his fingers through his long hair. "The fighting has increased at the neogi tower," he said. "The bastards seem to be rallying, perhaps because they know their allies are on the way. And look." Chaladar pointed down. "The neogi are starting skirmishes all over the ship. They're using their slaves and umber hulks to terrorize the humans."
The paladin replaced the helmet and looked at Teldin seriously. "We can't wait much longer. We'll have to strike soon, Cloakmaster, or we humans will be worn down. Just give me the order."
"The others will be here soon," Teldin said. He looked at Chaladar, standing tall in his gleaming armor, and CassaRoc, ready to throw his men into a good fight. He had been on the SpelljammerTor only a short time, and these men were ready to lay their lives down for him. He glanced away, at the fighting below. Somehow I have already become their leader, he thought.
And he felt, in his soul, that this was how it was supposed to be.
"Let's go down," Teldin said. They followed him to CassaRoc's common room, now clear of rat corpses, and they waited for the arrival of the allied leaders.
It had been almost three hours since the discovery that Cwelanas had been kidnapped by the neogi, and Teldin had used that time well.
He had been healed by King Leoster and could walk and fight very well, though he was still a little stiff. Then, together, he and CassaRoc had organized the fifty or so warriors of the Pragmatic Order of Thought into four squadrons and had armed each with two short swords, a dagger, and whatever other weapons they could carry. In addition, all the leaders of the alliance had been informed of the humans' intentions, and the giff, dwarves, and halflings had all started preparing for war. Lord Diamondtip had even come over for a short while to assure the Cloakmaster that all was going well in the giffs smoke tower.
The collective and their allies had more powerful weapons than Teldin had initially believed. The Human Collective itself had twenty ballistae ready and armed. The Chalice was ready with one armed ballista and a catapult, and their fifty fighters were more than ready to spill a little-or a lot-of neogi blood. CassaRoc's two catapults were in perfect working order, and the Guild tower was readying five ballistae and five catapults, which had been kept in storage.
Unfortunately, the halflings were armed only individually. The two dwarf communities, however, shared nine catapults and fifteen ballistae between them. The giff were extraordinarily enthusiastic about the battle and had kept their weapons in total readiness. Lord Diamondtip had even mentioned a surprise, a giff specialty, that he tiiought the Cloakmaster would appreciate.
Secretly, Teldin hoped the surprise was not very dangerous. The giff were well known on the Spelljammer for their inventiveness with explosives, but even CassaRoc and Chaladar were surprised when Diamondtip described to mem the giffs secret weapon: four bombards bound together at the pinnacle of the giff tower. Manned by eight giff, the bombards could rotate 360 degrees on a single, circular platform.
Teldin hoped the war would not get so desperate as to use the giffs guns in the phlogiston. With the giffs joy for explosives combined with the combustive nature of the flow itself, he had wondered if this war would engender an explosive force as powerful as that which had destroyed the Broken Sphere. Then Diamondtip had explained to him that the explosion could not harm the Spelljammer. "Sure, the Spelljammer would be shaken up, and the giffs tower would be taken out," Diamondtip had shrugged, "but so would the towers of many of our enemies."
"I'm relieved," Teldin had said weakly.
Although the Elven High Command contained ten ballistae, spaced throughout at various entrances in defensive positions, Teldin and the others were more concerned about the elves' promise of alliance. The elves had been informed of the upcoming attack and had been asked to join in a planning session, but Teldin was not convinced of the elves' sincerity and guessed that they probably would not show up for the meeting.
For three hours, the humans prepared their weaponry and made preliminary plans to attack the neogi. Scouts watched from the roof of the Guild tower, the tallest of the human buildings, and sent word of the battles at the neogi tower, and of the fighting breaking out across the great ship.
Diamondtip finally left to check on preparations at his own tower, and the human leaders went to CassaRoc's weapons room to double-check the armament. Then the approaching ships had been spotted by the watch, and Teldin knew mat the war would soon begin, a war he did not know how to prevent.
In the common room, Teldin and the two leaders discussed Cwelanas's kidnapping. It had all boiled down to only one conceivable possibility: neogi, probably Coh himself, had sneaked over into the Tower of Thought. The violence done to die guards indicated that large umber hulks had been with them, and they must have taken Cwelanas down the same, little-used stairway that they had sneaked up.
"Tell me more about Coh," Teldin said.
CassaRoc and Chaladar shared what little information they had that Teldin had not yet been told, of the rumored connection between Coh and the Fool, of his devoted slave, Orik, the ship's most dangerous umber hulk. Teldin knew that Cwe- lanas had told him the truth of Coh's partnership with the neogi who had brainwashed her, and he was convinced that Cwelanas was now his hostage- if not worse.
"Shemeat," the guard had spoken in the tongue of the neogi.
The sign of Coh was a series of interlocking circles, tattooed on the neogi master's forehead. When Teldin found him, the tattoo would be the first thing to be cut from Coh's body.
The layout of the neogi tower was unknown to everyone in the Human Collective. The neogi were so despised by all the races on the ship that few, other than neogi slaves, had ever been inside. Teldin decided that a swift assault upon the tower would be best, and then to swarm through the tower and take back Cwelanas as quickly as possible. Perhaps then they would find the neogi at their least defensible, when their strength was weak after the attacks by the beholders- and their Unhuman allies.
It was rumored that there were only fifty neogi in the tower-about forty, now, counting their losses in the skirmish that had occurred when Teldin's ship had crashed-and about thirty umber hulks and slaves. The human forces would overpower them easily-unless they were to engage other unhumans in the process of the assault. And that possibility could not lightly be ignored. The discussion was interrupted when Lord Diamondtip and the elf Lothian Stardawn finally arrived to the Tower of Thought, followed shortly thereafter by the halfling leaders, Hancherback and Kristobar, and the dwarf king, Lord Kova. With CassaRoc and Chaladar, Teldin quickly sketched out his plans to cut through the sporadic skirmishes between the collective, on the Spelljammer's port side, and the starboard communities, to eventually reach the neogi tower en masse.
It was while their plans were being laid that a newcomer appeared and inadvertently interrupted the meeting. The discussion stopped suddenly as his shadow darkened the doorway. CassaRoc's hand went to his sword, for he feared another assassination attempt on the Cloakmaster.
Teldin looked up and instantly rose from his seat. "Djan," he said warmly. Djan, the half-elf and the only other survivor of the crash of the Julia, stepped into the room. He held his left arm stiffly at his side, but he smiled as Teldin approached. His thin face had been brought back to its normal hue, and his eyes sparkled with the cold glint of steel.
"CassaRoc's healers have assured me that I am well," D
jan said. "I cannot let you get into this fight alone."
"Djan," Teldin said, "I think you should wait until you're much better."
"I can't wait any longer, Teldin. I've always hated being sick. I feel totally useless in that bed." He placed his hand on Teldin's shoulder. "I did not sail across the known universe with you to stay asleep and miss the events that called us here. Besides, you need all the able men you can get."
Teldin grinned and pulled Djan around to face the assemblage at the table. "This is my first mate, late of the Julia," Teldin said. "Djan will be with us on all decisions regarding the war for the Spelljammer. We've come a long way to find the Spelljammer and discover my destiny- "
"— Our destiny," Djan said quickly.
Teldin nodded. "And Djan here deserves a lot of the credit."
Teldin made the introductions and pulled a chair over for Djan. The half-elf sat, and together the Alliance of the Cloak finalized its strategies to rescue the stolen Cwelanas.
***
The humans of the Tower of Thought volunteered to go first and cut a vicious swath through the fighting around the collective. In the hour that the leaders spent talking and preparing, minor assaults had broken out threefold across the ship as the neogi spread their attacks: dwarf was now battling neogi, elf was battling neogi-almost no race was spared from violence, and soon the blood of all the races would be spilled at the murderous claws of the neogi.
Teldin laced up his leather armor and slipped on his vest of mail. He had shrunk his cloak to the size of a necklace as he pulled on his armor, and he commanded it to lengthen over his shoulders, just to see how he looked. Presently, his cloak filled out, and he was the image of die valiant, broad-shouldered warrior, ready to die for a cause. He tested the feel of his sword in his hands.
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