The Ultimate Helm

Chapter Thirty-Six

The rainbow lights of the phlogiston glittered off the Broken Sphere's cracked shell, flickering as though to the beat of some secret symphony. The sphere seemed less the shattered remnant of an eons-old disaster than a giant backdrop, an empty theater where an act of the second Unhuman War was being played out for the ghosts of the dead.

From port came an elven armada, the largest ship of the elven fleet. With a wingspan of three hundred feet, the armada was a hundred tons of death bearing a hundred elves, fourteen heavy weapons, and three explosive bombards. As the Cloakmaster watched through the eyes of the Spelljammer, hatches opened on the sides and belly of the butterfly-shaped armada, and a swarm of smaller attack flitters was deployed, buzzing speedily toward the Spelljammer.

From the bow came the smallest of the attacking vessels. A sleek scro battlewagon, shaped like an attacking wild boar, hurtled toward the Spelljammer. One hundred and fifty feet long, the battlewagon, proudly christened Eviscerator, seemed almost as dangerous as the armada, for it carried fourteen medium weapons, a ram, and four bombards. In addition, it was equipped with a wildfire projector, which could spew a highly pressurized stream of fire, the way fountains spewed water. The ship was crewed by 160 ferocious scro fighters, reared, like their ancestors, the ores, on a diet of hatred and blood.

From starboard came a Shou tsunami, second only to the Spelljammer in length. Like an impossible centipede, the massive vessel squirmed through space as if it were alive, three times the length of the armada's wingspan. Its segmented hull held two hundred Shou warriors, and its powerful defenses consisted of twenty-two heavy weapons, six bombards, and three jettisons. Hatches above each of the ship's legs held individual locust ships, which, when released en masse, would create a swarm that could wreak destruction on their enemies. The locusts were each equipped with a single light weapon, but were more often used in suicide dives against other craft and were sometimes filled with smoke powder, in order to blow the enemy into the gods' embrace.

The scro warriors upon the flat, outer decks of the battlewagon were engaged in small arms combat with the armada, the ship of their most hated enemies, the elves. Arrows from the scro archers arced through the flow in showers, skewering the elves unlucky enough to pull duty on unprotected decks. Three elves manning a ballista fell under the scro onslaught, one elf tumbling over a rail to fall into the phlogiston like a limp doll.

As the Spelljammer increased its speed and the fleets of its enemies followed toward the gap in the Broken Sphere, the scro halted their battle with the elves and turned to concentrate on the great ship bearing down on them.

The Cloakmaster watched as the scro scrambled across the decks of the battlewagon to prepare for the attack, then the first wave of flitters from the elven armada penetrated the Spelljammer's air envelope and buzzed the decks. Archers hidden inside each flitter aimed their bows and crossbows toward the emplacements in the Spelljammer's towers. The elves shot on sight, killing a dwarf who was notching a crossbow on the Chalice tower and injuring eight other warriors on the Tower of Thought and the wing batteries.

The Spelljammer shook as a trio of boulders crashed into the roof of the ship's stores and into the open market, now abandoned. The battlewagon had loaded its eight catapults and was already sending two more heavy shots toward the Spelljammer. Dust and rubble slammed into the streets as boulders tore through the walls of the council chambers. A load of iron shot hurtled over the towers in an ever-spreading cone, weakening battlements as they crashed into stone and crushing the skulls and bones of warriors under their weight.

Pain erupted throughout the Cloakmaster's body as each new injury wounded the Spelljammer. He winced as flitters shot arrows toward the ship's great eyes. He screamed as a heavy ballista bolt shot from the armada and the steel-tipped missile pierced the roof of the Armory. He felt himself weakening, the Spelljammer slowing as the Broken Sphere grew larger in his eyes.

“No!”he screamed. -We're too close to give up! We can't!

The Spelljammer was silent, or perhaps his voice was the voice of the Spelljammer itself, screaming as one, sharing pain, sharing senses, sharing death.

— No!

He began to grow warm and thought that he felt a light touch upon his being. He instantly felt stronger, flooded with an energy that he recognized as his own, a reserve he did not know he had.

Then Gaye Goldring's face, translucent, glowing, floated before him.

"I'm here," she said. "You have not given up yet. You can't."

— So close, he said.

" Yes, you 're close. Look…"

The Spelljammer was so close now that the immense gap in the Broken Sphere was no longer visible, even though it was more than a hundred miles distant. The Cloakmaster could clearly see the darkness inside, the cold rocks that had once been the first planets, and the fiery remnant of the star, Aeyenna, flaring as errant swirls of phlogiston were sucked into the core.

"You have the strength, Teldin. You've got it inside you. I'll be with you to help you reach the sphere. I'll do everything I can."

Gaye faded from his sight. He knew she had already helped him, bringing forth his own strength with merely a touch of L her empathic powers. He barely heard her finish with, "I'll be out there…"

Then the Spelljammer lurched forward, increasing its speed. The Cloakmaster moved, and the Spelljammer's huge wings moved in unison, sucking in a thick stream of phlogiston and pulling it in its wake.

The enemy fleets followed behind, occasionally firing their catapults and ballistae, but generally content, for now, to allow the three larger ships to do their work for them. Together, the fleets all sailed for the Broken Sphere.

The decks of the Spelljammer rang with explosions from the giff bombards, from the twang of the ship's powerful catapults as loads were shot toward the attacking vessels. Lord Diamondtip, his ponderous ears protected by a helmet layered with thick cloth, laughed every time a ship was hit by his smoke powder weapons. A beholder tyrant ship came just a bit too close and shot an ineffective volley of stone and iron shot toward the giff tower. Diamondback ordered his soldiers to "Rotate and fire at will!" and the four-bombard platform was rotated twice, each gun firing in turn until the beholder ship was hammered into chunks. Finally, the tyrant exploded in the phlogiston, and the towers of the Spelljammer vibrated with the resultant explosion as the flow ignited in a ball of glorious fire.

Diamondtip patted the wall of the giff tower. The surface was blackened with the force of the explosions, the immediate ignitions of the surrounding flow, but the tower still held. "Stay with me," Lord Diamondtip said to the tower. "Stay with me."

The elven flitters that had disgorged from the armada swooped down at the Spelljammer and through its streets like deadly wraiths. The light craft were built for speed, and the archers cramped inside whittled away at the Spelljammer's defenses with the sting of an insect. Some flitters even carried elven mages, who cast their spells of shadow or invisible force with a single, rapid pass.

The weaponry atop the dwarven citadel proved invaluable against a heavily outfitted nautiloid that seemed to swoop in from nowhere. The nautiloid shot four heavy ballistae and four heavy catapults simultaneously at the starboard wing batteries. Some of the shot went high and took out a portion of the roof of the Shou tower; but the weapons had been carefully aimed and destroyed the top floors of the human and elven batteries. The elven battery then caught fire, and a huge explosion ripped through the building and blasted stone chunks in a wide fan across the tail and the aft towers.

The starboard batteries responded quickly with their heavy weapons, but the dwarves directly beneath the nautiloid had the advantage of proximity. As the shadow of the nautiloid passed over their heads, Lord Agate Ironlord Kova ordered his troops to return fire. In the adjoining tower, Vagner Firespitter, as well, shouted to his dwarves to "Fire until we blow the scum right out of the flow!"

The nautiloid was sandwiched between the assaults of the dwarven communities and battered mercilessly with loads of iron shot until a final missile from one of Firespitter's light ballistae pierced the chambered hull. The ship burst into a ball of flame. It fell in a flaming arc upon the beholder ruins and rolled off the stern of the Spelljammer, leaving a trail of exploding phlogiston as it fell from the deck.

The dwarven communities shouted and cheered. In seconds, the Spelljammer and its air envelope had left the nautiloid behind, exposing the flaming ship to the flow, and the phlogiston ignited again with a huge explosion that was momentarily blinding.

As the flitters from the armada ducked between the Spelljammer's towers to shoot and run, the Shou tsunami came steadily forward. The scro battlewagon never let up its onslaught, banking so that the tsunami was temporarily blocked from view as it swept closer and closer to the great ship's bow and attacked. Three ballistae and four catapults fired from the battlewagon's port side. Iron shot and missiles were black blurs as they hurtled toward the Spelljammer and crashed into the walls of the ship's stores and the Tower of Trade. A gaping hole was blown into the tower's lower levels, and the whole building collapsed upon itself in a shudder that shook the ship.

Then the first wave of missiles and boulders rained upon the Spelljammer from the approaching elven armada. Most of the missiles went short, passing harmlessly in front of the ship. A few boulders dug deep trenches into the landing field, and one steel missile embedded itself in the Spelljammer's port ram.

The scro battlewagon continued on its downward dive toward the ship. Ballistae and catapults from both sides of the boar fell upon the towers in a deadly hail of stone and metal debris. Archers along the sides targeted the Spelljammer's warriors in the upper ruins of the captain's tower and atop the Guild tower. Seven Guild warriors dropped dead on the tower roof, the ill-made arrows of scro protruding from their bodies. The fighters in the captain's tower profited from better cover in the ruins, and most of the scro arrows bounced off the stone walls. The archers there returned fire, and three scro fighters staggered away from the rails of the battlewagon, arrows quivering in their chests and necks.

The dwarves under Lord Kova had their ballistae ready and aimed toward the onrushing battlewagon. As the fearsome prow of the boar ship Eviscerator sailed over the decks, Kova screamed "Fire!" and the dwarves' ballistae shot their missiles simultaneously. One missed completely, arcing over the battlewagon and passing into the flow. Two others impaled the hull, but did not drive deep enough to inflict significant damage to the ship or its crew.

The last missile collided with the scro ship just as it started a sweeping turn to move away and then come back on another run. The missile angled into the boar's prow and chipped off most of its starboard face. The missile and the face dropped to the great ship's deck, bounced off the captain's tower, and landed between the library and illithid towers.

The Spelljammer's fighters soon came to understand the attack strategies of the elven flitters, and quickly learned how to fight back against their swiftest opponents. Light catapults were used to the best advantage, and soon flitters were falling to the decks all around and crumpling like paper, battered and torn by the rock storms that shot from the towers. One flitter was hit by a hail of iron shot from the Chalice tower and sailed directly into the roof, crushing the warriors who had shot it.

The number of elven flitters was soon cut down in half. By that time, the armada had come well within range to bear its heavy weapons, and the scro battlewagon had turned itself around to stare down the Spelljammer once again and begin another attack run.

High above the decks, directly below the Spelljammer's triangular stinger tail, a glowing ball of light appeared, which transformed in the figure of Gaye Goldring. Arms outstretched, floating above the towers like a spirit of the winds, she summoned power to her and concentrated, molding the wild energies of her mind, the energies with which Teldin had fortified her, and focusing on the approaching ships. Energy flickered around her in a golden cloud of lightning, of swirling, formless power.

In the lower hull of the elven armada, a pinprick of golden light blossomed. It spread slowly, glowing bright with Gaye's psionic energy. The glow faded as it spread across the hull in an expanding circle, and where the light had burned, the hull became discolored and appeared warped or weakened.

Gaye floated there, concentrating on her target, while the armada attacked, while missiles rained death upon the Spelljammer and its crew. The minotaur tower was felled by a barrage of both stone and missiles. Immediately, the Spelljammer's weapons shot back from the hulk and giant towers. One missile punctured one of the armada's great wings and continued past. Another was shot straight into the armada's lower hull.

The elven ship shuddered as the missile pierced the hull easily, like a sewing needle through fabric. Gaye's molecular manipulation had transformed the armada's thick, chitinous hull into a material no stronger than parchment. The crew of the Spelljammer quickly assessed the armada's weakness, and weapons across the ship were aimed at the discolored, vulnerable patch that now had grown to cover the armada's entire underside.

Within minutes, the armada fluttered drunkenly across the flow, a dozen missiles sticking out of its underbelly like stubby legs. Its wings were broken and bent, tattered into shreds by the shots from the Spelljammer's catapults.

The armada managed one last, fitful assault against the Spelljammer. One missile found its target in the uppermost chamber of the illithid tower. Trebek's books and scrolls exploded out of the tower and showered the decks below.

Then the armada shook as chambers inside ruptured, fires broke out, and explosions rolled in a chain reaction throughout the ship. The elven flagship blew apart and sent the shattered hull scattering in all directions. Blackened bodies spun into the flow; then the phlogiston ignited around the wrecked ship, and the sky blazed.

The Spelljammer was buffeted by the storm of heat and turbulence. The scro battlewagon shook and was tossed sideways by the blast. The Shou tsunami appeared unbothered; only its frontal antennae were slightly scorched as it sailed harmlessly through the last of the explosion.

The Spelljammer adjusted its course and accelerated. Its starboard wing swung up, over the scro battlewagon, which could not recover fast enough from the explosion to fire at the Spelljammer's lower hull. The battlewagon's helmsman realized his mistake and quickly turned the ship around in pursuit.

The tsunami fired its heavy weapons as the Spelljammer passed directly in front of it. Boulders fell into the walls of the Long Fangs' tower and the beholder ruins, then the Spelljammer's crew retaliated individually, firing indiscriminately at the beautiful Shou ship as it wriggled through the flow. One of the tsunami's long antennae cracked and was sent spinning away by a hail of iron shot.

The Spelljammer flew straight through the gap in the Broken Sphere, heedless of its enemies. It was swallowed by the darkness, by the enormous weight of its ancient, forgotten birth. Behind it, clouds of phlogiston roiled into the sphere, kicked up by the Spelljammer's wings and sucked in by its wake.

The battlewagon fired from behind and to starboard, clipping the mast of a galleon with a ballista missile, then the wildfire projector was readied on the Evisceratorupper firing platform. The boar ship sped forward, close enough to the galleon to see the surprised look in the pirates' eyes as the scro on deck aimed their arrows and killed eight warriors in a single pass.

The scro ship penetrated the Spelljammer's air envelope. One missile, shot from atop the Armory, impaled one of the ship's great forelegs. The battlewagon rocked with the impact of a heavy load of iron shot.

Then the scro aimed the wildfire projector, and the top of the Dark Tower was engulfed in flames that licked up the Spelljammer's tail. The scro hopped and laughed on the deck of the Eviscerator and aimed again. Fire splattered the base of the Armory in a wide swath that blazed through the Old Elvish Academy and the Academy of Human Knowledge. The flames spread from roof to roof, and soon the Long Fangs' tower and the beholder ruins were eaten by fire. Phlogiston exploded chaotically, raining rubble down upon the decks.

Missiles from the Spelljammer embedded into the battlewagon like spears. The scro ship twisted evasively, ignoring most of the Spelljammer's attacks by staying far to starboard, off the wing. Inside the control cabin, the scro helmsman sweated copiously in a struggle to keep the ship out of danger, yet still in a position where it could dive in easily and whittle away at the Spelljammer's defenses

… and kill as many hells-spawned elves as possible.

Concentrating on the scene outside, transmitted to him by the Eviscerator's helm, the helmsman did not notice a golden glow appear at his side. He did not notice the shape of a woman materialize and beckon to him, her fingers stretched at strange angles, her gaze fixed upon his face. He jerked once, violently, struggling in his mind as a superior force battled with his subconscious. He suddenly stood and awkwardly faced her.

His eyes were wide with fear as first one of his arms went up into the air, then another. He watched helplessly as his right leg came up involuntarily, and he started hopping. The battlewagon began to slow. It listed to port as the helmsman's mind strayed from controlling the ship's course and speed. Gaye could hear shouts from the decks above as the ship continued to list.

"What are you doing?" he screamed in the Common tongue.

"Stop this! Stop this now! You'll kill us all!"

Gaye stopped. Instead, she concentrated. The scro pulled a short sword from his scabbard. His eyes widened even more. "No!" he shouted. "No!"

He brought the point of his sword to his unprotected chest. The sharp point dug into his flesh. Blood welled in a shiny, thick drop. "You can't do this to me! You can't!"

Then he gasped, as his body was flung against a wall and the impact pushed the sword into his heart. He fell to his knees, then pitched over.

"Yes, I can," Gaye said calmly.

The battered battlewagon listed dangerously to port and began its descent. The door to the cabin burst open, and a contingent of scro warriors charged in, their weapons drawn.

Gaye concentrated and felt the psionic energies building inside her, unstoppable. She looked down. Her hand was glowing white-hot with the power of her own life force.

Life, she thought, for Teldin, for the Spelljammer. Let destiny be served.

She was stronger, more powerful, than she had ever felt before. The scro warriors came to a halt only a few feet from her. Her powers flickered around her like a thing alive, blistering their orclike faces with the heat of a star. They scrambled to get away, but Gaye let the feeling of purity, of heat, rush over her, and then she was one-one with Teldin, one with the Spelljammer, seeing their united, eternal destiny in a flare of energy that lit the phlogiston like a blazing star.

The Eviscerator's foredeck blew apart in a single burst of stellar fire. When the phlogiston exploded in a blazing sphere, half the battlewagon was ruptured, shattered and torn apart into shreds and splinters, its hull blackened and blistered. It arced down like a dying comet, down through the flow… on a collision course with the Spelljammer.