The Ultimate Helm tcc-6

by Russ T. Howard

  Teldin turned slowly. His eyes seemed blank, glazed over. "Don't worry. It's just a precaution so others cannot enter. The doors will open when it's necessary."

  "What exactly does that mean?" CassaRoc asked.

  Teldin smiled as he heard voices and saw images that were his alone. They seemed to come easier now, since he had touched the globe in the library's loculus. "It means that I will take care of it."

  They stood in a dark, circular hall, surrounded by tables and cases and shelves bearing dim, rectangular shapes. The warriors took a few steps, spreading out to explore, and the light panels in the ceiling winked on automatically, casting dim, bluish light throughout the cavernous hall.

  This is amazing, said Estriss, his eyes wide with wonder at the assortment of items spread throughout the long gallery. Absolutely amazing. The history, the things we could learn here…

  The chamber seemed larger now that they were inside, far larger than was apparent from the outside. The tall walls and rows upon rows of tables were crowded with transparent cases made of an impervious glasslike material. Inside them, protected against the elements and any potential thieves or glory-seekers, were hundreds of objects of both mundane and exotic design. Some were clearly of recent make; others were obviously ancient, showing signs of disuse and age. Many other objects were so obscure that Teldin and his allies could not discern exactly what they were, or what their functions were.

  One portion of the hall boasted an enormous collection of walking sticks and staffs, even two scepters of long-forgotten kings. Another section contained more jewelry and precious gems than the warriors had ever imagined in one place. The light gleamed off the jewels as if they were alive, seething with untapped powers. The gold appeared so pure, so warm, that it might melt in one's hand. One particular metal coin hummed inside its case. Other cases held strange vestments and articles of clothing: a pair of boots with silver wings; a tunic that seemed to glow a vibrant green, then red in the Spelljammer's pale light.

  A portion of one wall held within it a large library of books and scrolls and bound yellow manuscripts. One tome bore the title Tomb of Torture, written in Elvish script. Estriss ran his scholar's hand across some of the titles: The Epistle of Lord JaykEl of the Blue Order of the Spelljammer; The Helmsman's Companion by Gorg Blasterbeam, Once Scribe of Humptown. Another read The Star Quest ofBryn and promised "A Ribald Adventure of Treachery and Untold Perverse Delights."

  Estriss hissed in wonder and drew back his hand. He had found a strange book bound in a brittle, flesh-colored leather. Its ancient cover was tattooed with designs and sigils that made the humans nauseated to look too long at them. Estriss looked up. You do not want to know, he said.

  "What is this place?" Na'Shee wondered aloud. Her voice echoed hollowly through the gallery.

  Teldin stood frozen in the center of the room. His voice seemed far away when he answered. "This whole tower is the Spelljammer's.. " He concentrated, letting the knowledge wash over him in a soothing wave. "This is the Spelljammer's memory, containing all its experiences and adventures throughout the spheres, collected here in physical form. This room holds…" He paused, seemingly searching for the words. "These are most of the magical items that have ever come aboard the Spelljammer. Their owners are long dead, and they wait here as individual memories, of events that mostly occurred long before any of us were born."

  "How can the Spelljammer have a memory?" Chaladar asked.

  Teldin smiled as he turned slowly, taking in all of the chamber. "The Spelljammer is more than a city sailing between the spheres, or a vessel that can be owned by whoever has the most men and weapons. The Spelljammer is… alive."

  "Alive?" Chaladar said. "I don't understand. How can that be?"

  "It is alive, and it is sentient," Teldin told them. "And it has brought me here because I bear the Ultimate Helm, because it needs me to fulfill its own destiny, just as its destiny is my own."

  "Can we take them?" CassaRoc asked. He had not listened to Teldin's revelation. He was standing over a case containing a metallic vest, shimmering with all the colors of the spectrum.

  Teldin grinned slightly. He slipped his sword out of its scah-bard. "You may try. Be ready, everyone."

  The others quickly pulled out their blades. "Be ready for what?" Djan asked.

  "You'll see," Teldin said. Then, "CassaRoc, go ahead."

  CassaRoc examined the case and could not find a lock. He brought the hilt of his sword down hard upon the case, and his arm reverberated with the impact.

  It happened so fast that no one had time to see where the creatures had come from. There were six of them: huge, lumbering gray shapes that at first seemed amorphous at their approach. Then the warriors could make out individual fea-tures: strangely shaped arms that ended in whiplike hands, and pale, fleshy bodies that resembled neogi and beholders and centaurs.

  The guardian shivaks converged on the humans, ready to protect the Armory and the ship's collection of memories. Faceless, composed entirely of a thick, leathery flesh, and without internal organs, the shivaks served the ship and tirelessly defended its secrets. The warriors were simply intruders to them, and were to be dealt with as any intruder would be dealt with: first apprehended, then defeated and rendered unconscious, then returned outside to the decks of the Spelljammer.

  Djan was knocked to the floor by the huge arm of a centau-rian shivak. It pulled back a great, curled fist, and sent its arm in a downward swing toward Djan's head.

  In the instant before impact, Teldin shouted "No!"

  His voice echoed impossibly loud throughout the chamber and carried with it a tone of authority, which the shivaks dully recognized as a sign of the Helmbearer. Each shivak halted in its tracks. One shivak had Estriss clasped within its three curled arms. Another tightly clasped Stardawn's wrist within its thick hand, ready to pummel the elf into unconsciousness.

  Light blazed out from Teldin's ancient amulet and flickered into the eyes of each shivak, casting the image of a three-pointed star across each face. Teldin turned instinctively, letting the light pass over each shivak in turn. As though it were a message, or a command stimulated by the amulet's intrinsic magical energies, the shivaks released their holds on the humans. The amulet ceased its flashes of light, and the shivaks stood immobile where they had stopped.

  "We will meet no more resistance," Teldin said.

  "Will you please tell me what in the Nine Hells just happened?" said CassaRoc, sputtering.

  "They have recognized the sign of the Spelljammer," Teldin said. "They listen to no other command. We now have unlimited passage through the Armory, and no shivak will try to stop us."

  A shadowed spiral staircase against the far wall led Teldin and his friends down to the next level of the Armory. Djan whistled as light panels in the wall winked on as the warriors proceeded down to the next floor. "How does the Spelljammer know we're here?"

  Teldin did not answer. He took each stair confidently, as though he had walked these steps before.

  Then the stairs ended, and the group found themselves in another huge gallery. The light panels above them brightened as Chaladar brought up the rear, and they stood silently as they gazed upon a chamber filled from wall to wall with display cases of various sizes, arranged in orderly rows that seemed to go on into infinity.

  Estriss immediately approached the closest case. Amazing, the mind flayer said. Teldin, come here and look. The detail on this is amazing.

  The others surrounded Estriss and peered into the case, then eagerly spread out to examine the other cases throughout the gallery.

  Like the chamber above, the wajls and tables were covered with uncounted displays, but these cases did not contain magical items like those above.

  Estriss pointed with one blunt, purplish finger. Look there. The rigging is perfect. Whoever built these is a remarkable craftsman. The markings, the decorations-the craftsmanship is incredibly delicate.

  Inside each case was a scale model of a different ship:
squidships, deathspiders, battle dolphins, illithid dreadnoughts, wasp ships, hammerships, elven man-o-wars and flitters, a gnomish sidewheeler, beholder tyrants, damselflies, dragonflies, Shou dragonships, viperships, scorpion ships, lampreys, deathglories, an elven armada, and more. Each case held a different scale model, the types of which stretched the known spheres, and not a few were completely unknown to Teldin and his allies.

  Na'Shee shouted from far across the gallery. "Teldin, you better come here! I think you ought to see this!"

  They hurried over to Na'Shee, where she stood above one rectangular case. Inside was a scale model of a nautiloid, gleaming in perfect condition. "So?" Stardawn said. "Read the name," Na'Shee invited. CassaRoc bent down to look, then he stood up abruptly and stared at Teldin. "What's going on here?" Estriss said, What is it?

  "The name painted on the bow," Chaladar said, "says it's the Julia."

  "That's our ship," Djan said. "We crashed the nautiloid when we came on board."

  Who built these, Teldin? Estriss asked. Who could build these so perfectly, so fast?

  Teldin shook his head slowly and indicated all the ships contained in the cases throughout the room. He gathered his breath, letting the information flow into him. "These are not models," he said. "These are actual ships, all the ships that have ever reached the Spelljammer during its voyages across the universe. Thousands of them have been shrunk, rebuilt, if needed, and kept as memories. The ship did this." He peered into the case at his own nautiloid. "I can feel the magical power as well. All the spelljamming helms are intact."

  CassaRoc said, "Can they ever be used again?"

  Teldin looked at him curiously. "I don't know," he said.

  The floor below was identical to the ones above it, containing cases of swords and daggers. "All magical, in one way or another," Teldin told them. He examined one sword of ancient make, its blade gleaming in the gallery's cold light. Mystic runes had been hammered into the steel below a crude design depicting a circle of standing stones. "Some of them are legendary."

  The gallery below held cases of axes and maces and war-hammers. Na'Shee lingered long, staring at a particularly handsome double-headed flail that gleamed inside its case. Teldin pulled her away. "Perhaps later," he said as he led her to the stairs.

  "How far down does this go?" Stardawn asked Teldin.

  The Cloakmaster watched him. The elf seemed anxious, perhaps a little nervous. His hand kept straying to the hilt of his sword, and his eyes seemed to wander, warily keeping track of his surroundings.

  "The lower floors hold weaponry and ammunition, enough to arm the entire population of the Spelljammer." Teldin led them down the stairs to the next level. "Stones for the catapults, ballista bolts, replacement parts for the weapons, evensmoke powder. The Spelljammer knows when these things ¦ are needed, and the armory will open below when the occasion arises."

  The light panels blinked on in the next gallery, and the I company walked through, examining the cases of arrows and ' spears and crossbow bolts.

  "Magical?" CassaRoc said.

  Teldin nodded.

  They proceeded to the level below. The light panels came on, and they stood silently, staring at the tall cases standing in long rows down the hall.

  Djan gasped involuntarily. Na'Shee reached for die hilt of a sword.

  "Are they alive?" Na'Shee asked Teldin.

  He shook his head.

  The cases seemed more like transparent coffins, for each contained the preserved bodies, both male and female, of examples of every race that had ever boarded the Spelljammer. Human, illithid, gnome, k'r'r'r, arcane, beholder, dracon-all who had traveled the Rainbow Ocean to find the Spelljammer. They found three cases that had been shattered. Jagged fragments of glass had sprayed across the floor, and the bodies that had been inside had sometime been removed by thieves-or rescuers-unknown.

  The next staircase was long and winding, leading down into darkness. Teldin took the lead and finally brought the warriors to a great golden door at the base of the stairs, where a single light crystal in a golden sconce bloomed at their approach. He placed his hand upon it, and the door silently opened inward at the Cloakmaster's touch.

  The chamber was huge and appeared to be a vault of some kind with an immense, domed ceiling high above. The light inside was dim, a pale blue, and the hall was encircled by a narrow, angled ledge about three feet off the floor. The ledge was studded with brilliant diamonds, shining with their own inner, crystalline fires.

  CassaRoc stroked his beard and stared at the jewels. "These jewels are worth a king's ransom. Do you know what we could do with this wealth?"

  "These are worth far more than ordinary gems," Teldin said, reaching out to touch a blue diamond.

  Instantly, above them, the domed vault was filled with the interior image of a crystal sphere. Planets swam in orbit around a miniature sun, and stars glittered around them like jewels, seemingly close enough to take in their hands and hold like fireflies. The planets glowed vibrantly with color, and the sun cast its yellow light upon their astonished, upturned faces.

  "Every sphere the Spelljammer has ever visited is remembered here," Teldin said reverently. His voice echoed solemnly through the room. "All the spheres, and more than you could imagine. Over two thousand of them, all watched over by the Spelljammer, their protector-"

  He stopped, scarcely believing his own words. But he knew they were true; he could see the words, the images in his mind. The sign of the amulet pounded warmly in his chest, a soothing reminder of his destiny and the truth of what he saw.

  "The Spelljammer," Teldin said. "It has been here almost since the beginning of time-not this Spelljammer-this is but the last of many. Its sentience holds the memories of the others, memories of its birth

  … and of the Broken Sphere."

  His friends watched him silently, unable to comprehend what he had told them.

  Teldin thought for a moment. "I–I'm getting images, or messages, from the Spelljammer. It's not telling me everything. I am seeing little pieces at a time." He paused in thought. "The One Egg, the Broken Sphere, was an original sphere, a natural sphere far larger than those we know. Then it was destroyed-I can't see it all yet-and the Spelljammer has tried to somehow replace it, I think, ever since. Or… atone for it."

  "The story is incredible," Stardawn said. There was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Could this ship be that powerful?"

  "Yes. It is more powerful, more primal, than we know."

  And who created the Spelljammer? Estriss repeated. The Juna?

  "The Juna," Teldin said, "yes, among many others. The Spelljammer-was less created than… conceived."

  Teldin touched the diamond again, and the image of the sphere flickered away. He looked up, sadly, where the spherescape had been. "We must go below."

  The stairs leading to the next floor were in the center of the room, a wide, stone stairway that spiraled down into darkness and seemed, to them, to go far beyond the dimensions of the tower. The Spelljammer is distorting our senses, Estriss said. This tower cannot be this tall.

  "Or this wide," said CassaRoc. "I noticed that as soon as we set foot in the first chamber. It is a magical illusion."

  "Perhaps," Teldin said. "Perhaps."

  The group had just completed the first turn in the stairway | when lights, hidden in the floors, came on, illuminating the domed ceiling and the stairway's entrance above. At first, the companions thought they were surrounded by warriors, black silhouettes backlighted with pale lighting, then the entire staircase became illuminated, and the humans saw who they faced: a line of statues, spiraling down alongside the stairs. The base of each statue was embedded with a diamond.

  The statue at the top was clearly the most ancient, pockmarked by age and coated in layers of gray dust. The figure was that of a man, square-jawed and stocky, bearing a long cloak and a circular amulet.

  That's your amulet, Teldin, Estriss said.

  "Yes," Teldin acknowledged, looking closer. The
pattern on the amulet was the same, as was the barely discernable pattern on the inside of the cloak, a pattern of three-pointed stars. "And that is the cloak I bear. You are looking upon the First Pilot, the first captain of the Spelljammer."

  "Who was he?" Djan asked. "What can you tell us?"

  Teldin thought, then shook his head. "As I said, I don't understand it all myself."

  CassaRoc said, "If this is the First Pilot, then all these statues must be-"

  "— statues of all the Spelljammer's captains," Teldin said automatically. "And the diamonds-"

  "— are memory crystals, like in the vault above," Na'Shee said.

  "Yes, displaying the life histories of the captains and their reigns aboard die Spelljammer."

  They continued down the Rotunda of the Captains. Teldin stopped once and pointed at the stairs. They were covered with dust, but thin, straight trails were visible, as though something had recently passed this way. "The seal," Teldin said. "The droplets from the melted seal on the door outside. They came this way."

  They followed the thin trail past more than 150 statues, male and female, even one of a beholder. As the warriors made their descent, the statues appeared more recently constructed, less dusty. Teldin recognized the face of Romar, the captain who eventually became the Fool. Then, finally, they realized they were nearing the bottom of the stairs. The last statue was on the right, standing to the side of a huge door. Another, smaller spiral staircase led even farther down. "Look," Teldin said.

  The metal droplets had traveled down the staircase and up the body of the last statue, to collect and transform into a shiny disk at the statue's neck. The statue bore a long cloak and stood proudly among the others, the last in a long line of both heroes and rogues.

  The statue was featureless, with only a blank template for a face, but Estriss saw immediately who the statue was to resemble. As he looked around, he realized the others did as well. Even Stardawn seemed moved, frozen as he stared at the raw, unformed stone.