The Ultimate Helm

Chapter Seven

Teldin, CassaRoc, and the giff, dwarf, and halfling leaders talked among themselves for an hour after their agreement to become allies, making broad, preliminary plans for defense and explaining to Teldin the multifaceted-and sometimes highly confusing-political situations aboard the Spelljammer. The ship was more crowded than he had originally thought, holding whole communities of illithids, goblins, neogi, dra-cons, ogres, beholders, elves-it was all too much, and Teldin finally decided that it just did not really matter, as long as he could get the answers he needed.

Privately Teldin and his allies were all worried that no word had been sent from the elves or the Shou. The Shou were largely unknown to Teldin, but he had had enough untrustworthy dealings with the elves to last him a lifetime, and he decided it would be best to consider them both, for the present, as potential enemies.

They briefly talked about some of the legends concerning the Spelljammer, in order for Teldin to get an idea of the great ship's history- what they actually knew of it- and the power structures and hierarchies on board. No one had ever heard of Teldin's cloak before the beholder myth had started to circulate months earlier. Neither could they elaborate on the Dark Times and what they meant to the ship. "All we know," Diamondtip explained slowly, "is that the Dark Times herald war for us all. Food will be in short supply, though we don't really know why. Most of the communities have food supplies and even grow some themselves. Our primary food comes from the Spelljammer's gardens, and I can think of no reason why that should ever stop. The gardens are open to all, and the harvests are plentiful. We go completely without want."

Talk eventually turned from there to the nature of Teldin's cloak. All, of course, knew of ultimate helms, but they could not be sure of the peculiar qualities the cloak had displayed. "That could be what pulled you out here," Lord Kova said, stroking his trim beard. "But if the cloak is truly an ultimate helm, it is the strangest helm I've ever heard of."

"Perhaps it is something special," said Kristobar Brewdoc. "That would explain why the evil ones consider you dangerous- perhaps it is some kind of device whose magic is uncontrollable, or even limitless. A charm like that could destroy all your enemies."

"Aye," CassaRoc said, "even…" He took a draft of ale. "Even the Fool."

"The Fool? Who is that?" Teldin asked.

"No one," Brewdoc said hurriedly. "Make-believe, to keep children in line."

Hancherback snorted loudly. "Not hardly. He's real, I tell you, but he is less than human- far less." He turned to the Cloakmaster. "Evil incarnate, he is. A serpent in the belly of the Spelljammer."

"Aye," Kova said. "We mortals brought the monster to the Spelljammer. And we mortals must destroy it."

Firespitter was silent through this, glaring occasionally at Lord Kova. He believed that the Fool was a myth created by the Kovans for some unknown purpose- only the dwarves under Kova would be so stupid as to fashion such a ridiculous bogeyman. A worm. Hah!

"No one knows who the Fool really is," Diamondtip said, "or if he really exists. Some say he is the secret captain, some say he was the captain once, now deposed. Others say he is a being formed by the violent deaths of others, a being of soulless energy. Others don't believe in him at all."

A blank look fell across Teldin's face. There was something there with them, he could feel, something cold and empty gnawing at the pit of his soul.

CassaRoc was watching him and said, "Teldin, are you all right?"

Silently Teldin reached across the table and plucked the dagger from CassaRoc's belt. He held it between his fingers and hefted it, then turned slowly, as if in a trance. In one strong, swift motion, he slung it toward the base of CassaRoc's bar.

"What in the name of the gods do you think you're- "

CassaRoc stopped when he saw what Teldin had done. The dagger vibrated, its point embedded in the wood, and a huge black rat was impaled upon the blade. The knife had speared the rat straight through, yet it still squirmed, scrabbling with its sharp claws against the floor and the wooden bar. There was no blood.

"How?" asked Hancherback.

"It was already dead," Teldin said. He pulled the knife from the wood and held up the squirming rat.

Firespitter said, "Undead?"

Teldin nodded. His eyes glazed over and he held his hand close to the rat. The amulet at his neck grew warm. "Someone had to control this rat. He sees through their eyes."

"Who?" CassaRoc asked.

Kova answered. "The Fool, that's who. That's been a legend, too, that he sees through the eyes of others."

"No," Teldin said. "Only the undead, I think."

"It looks as if we've got one more enemy than we planned on," Diamondtip said. "Well, my guns will be ready for him."

Teldin crushed the rat's head beneath the heel of his boot. Blackness stained the old floor, and the rat died its true, final death. The Fool, Teldin thought. Perhaps the legends about him are true. Teldin nodded. It seems as if the battle lines have been drawn. If I've been called here to become the Fool's enemy, then I am right about my quest.

I'm here to fight for life, and the Fool fights only for death.

…

The alliance soon adjourned so that its members could take the news back to their respective communities, and to prepare for the eventual war with the evil unhumans. When the allies were gone, CassaRoc closed the door and pulled Teldin over to the table.

"I'm weary," Teldin told the warrior. "I am so tired of fighting and death."

"I don't blame you at all, Teldin. You've been through a lot today."

Teldin yawned. His eyes felt scratchy, and he rubbed his face to keep himself alert. "It is catching up with me, I think. Still, I feel as though there is much to be done. I couldn't sleep earlier. I don't know if I could now."

"You look as tired as you sound. Go on to your quarters. You'll sleep just fine."

CassaRoc watched him silently as the Cloakmaster stared away. "There's just so much to do."

"So, what is it with you and that cloak?" CassaRoc asked. "What?"

"You're… seeing things, aren't you? You knew that undead rat was here."

Teldin thought. Yes, he had been seeing things and hearing things, and knowing things that he had no knowledge of before he had landed on the Spelljammer.

"I'm not sure," Teldin finally said. "I did know the rat was here, but I'm not sure how." He thought for a moment. "I think it's a combination of things. The amulet and the cloak, working together, perhaps. The fact that I'm here on the Spelljammer, where its magic is more powerful, may help. Perhaps the powers of the cloak are getting stronger as well." "Or perhaps you are," CassaRoc said. Teldin nodded. "Yes, you may be right. It may be me, but I don't know everything about this ship. Actually, I know very little. I don't think I'll know everything until I become- "

He stopped himself. Until I become… what? He did not know, but it was there, flickering like energy through the cloak, through his being. Somewhere inside him, his reason for being here was locked away like an ancient treasure. And the key was somewhere upon the Spelljammer.

Someone knocked loudly on the door to the meeting hall, then opened it. One of CassaRoc's warriors, a tall, gangly fighter named Hath, stuck his head in. "CassaRoc, a word with you."

CassaRoc grunted and stepped into the hall. Hath closed the door. Teldin heard voices behind the thick wood, but could not make out any words, then CassaRoc came back in.

"Teldin, I'm sorry. My man just gave me word that your helmsman-" Teldin stood. "Corontea?"

CassaRoc frowned. He seemed to sag slightly, and he took a deep breath. "Teldin-" "Don't," Teldin said. "Corontea didn't make it." The survivors from the crash of the Julia had been sneaked over soon after Teldin and CassaRoc had made their way to the Tower of Thought. At that time, Djan had been administered medicines and healing spells for superficial cuts and burns. The healer had placed a sleep spell on him, to give his injuries time to heal.

Corontea, however, had been a different matter. The Julia's female helmsman had far too many internal injuries, and the healers knew that there was nothing they could do for her except relieve her pain.

CassaRoc sighed. "I'm sorry, son. My healers tried everything, but they claim she was hurt too badly. One healer would cast a spell and heal one wound, and it seems like another injury would pop up. There was nothing they could do except ease the pain. They cast a spell of numbness over her. She died in peace, at least."

"At peace," Teldin said. He scowled. "She died because of me." Teldin shook his head at the irony. "Sixteen other people on board the Julia, and only two survive, all because of me." He looked up. "What about Djan?"

CassaRoc shrugged. "Same as before. He'll be fine tomorrow, they say. My healer does wonders with burn salves and poultices."

"Good." Teldin pulled his cloak around him. "I think I'll head to my quarters soon. I'm going to stop in on Djan first, and see how he's feeling."

CassaRoc smiled. "Good man. Sleep well, Teldin. You need a good night's sleep after all you've been through."

Teldin left the meeting room as CassaRoc joined his band of warriors in drinks. He climbed the tower stairs to Djan's tiny room, which seemed only slightly larger than a storage closet and held only a narrow bunk and a small table, where half-empty vials of potions and creams had been left by CassaRoc's healers. Dim light from the phlogiston was the room's only illumination, glowing through a small window in one wall.

Teldin could see that his half-elf friend was in pain. Sweat beaded across Djan's pale brow, and his sheets, tangled uncomfortably around his body, were stained with sweat.

Teldin drew the sheets free and pulled them carefully up to Djan's neck. His friend's eyes flickered as Teldin bent over him, then slowly opened. "Teldin…" he whispered. "I'm here."

"How… the crash…"

"Don't talk now," Teldin said. "We survived, and the healers say you're going to be fine by tomorrow. You'll be a little stiff, but you'll be up and fighting." He smiled, hoping that his friend would not see through his bravado.

Djan's eyes closed. Teldin thought he had gone to sleep again, but suddenly Djan's eyes snapped open again. He whispered, "Corontea…?"

Teldin turned away. Djan and Corontea had become close friends on the journey to the Broken Sphere, and he did not want to hurt Djan again with news of Corontea's death. "The healers say you have to sleep. That's the only way these potions will work. That's an order, first mate. Now, you have to rest."

Djan grabbed Teldin's arm. The grip was weak, and his normally pale flesh seemed white, almost translucent. Teldin looked down. Their eyes met for a moment, then Djan's face seemed to sag, as though in defeat, and the half-elf turned away.

Teldin felt he could say nothing. They sat in silence until Djan said softly, "I heard the guards as I was brought here."

Teldin watched him.

"Our coming was foretold. The Cloakmaster."

"I've heard it," Teldin said. "Now, get to- "

"They said, 'The Cloakmaster brings death. The legends of the beholders are true.' "

The Cloakmaster placed his hand on his friend's. "Never place much faith in legends. People have a tendency of making their own fears come true."

Djan faced him with teary eyes. "I don't listen to legends such as that. It is the fact they knew you were coming. The Cloakmaster. And coming for a reason."

"And?"

"Teldin. Can't you feel it? This is your destiny. This is your purpose. We are supposed to be here. Verenthestae.''

Djan's eyes flickered shut, and Teldin sat on the edge of the bed as Djan fell asleep. He then rose and opened the door. In the light angling from the corridor, he saw Djan's chest rising evenly in peaceful sleep.

Teldin closed the door. "Damn," he said. "Damn."

He climbed the tower steps to his meager quarters, where he commanded his cloak to shrink to a thin necklace, and he removed his clothes and prepared for bed. CassaRoc was right. The day had been damned hard and exceedingly strange. His quest had taken him farther than he had ever expected, and it had forced him to grow in directions that had before seemed inconceivable.

He lay across his bunk and pulled a light blanket over him. The glimmer from the phlogiston flickered through his single small porthole, across the opposite wall. It was just dim enough to let him fall asleep quickly and easily.

He was standing, naked, looking down at the bunk, where his body lay sleeping. He saw the line of the cloak wrapped at the base of his neck, the amulet a dark talisman below that.

The amulet.

He realized that his chest was glowing, and he looked down at his astral body. The outline of the amulet, pulsating with golden light, was imprinted on his chest. The three-pointed symbol burned coldly and flickered against the darker image of the amulet's mysterious pattern, woven like veins across Teldin's ethereal flesh.

His dream self traced one of the lines of the amulet, and he heard the Spelljammer's voice in his head, a high, keening song that echoed with immense age, immense sorrow.

His quarters disappeared from around him. He was floating in the cold blackness of wildspace, in a sphere he had never before seen. Here the stars burned with their own inner fires around the circumference of the sphere, and he could feel the eighteen planets lazily circling the huge yellow star at the center.

— Aeyenna.

He knew the star's name as though he had been born there, and he knew that he was looking untold millennia into the past, at the One Egg, the Cosmic Egg, the Broken Sphere.

— Ouiyan.

He laughed out loud; he could feel the echoes of his own voice, laughing in his sleep, somewhere in a bunk yet to be dreamed of. He laughed, for the wildspace of the sphere known long ago as Ouiyan was filled with a million swimmers, singing high, sweet songs of peace and freedom. Teldin swam among them, pushing himself through space with his small wings, and he knew he was one with them, seeing through their eyes.

Tfrespaakiil migrated from planet to planet, star to star, living in harmony with the humans and other creatures inhabiting the planets below. The manta race was looked upon as something holy, and their sentience was revered among the people of Ouiyan, who respected the swimmers' intelligence and their simple philosophy of benevolence and love.

Then a great shadow fell across the worlds and rfeespaakiil scattered across the sphere in horror. He felt their terror screaming through his bones as, one by one, his brethren were butchered, and the peoples of Ouiyan were decimated by forces they could not understand.

The spaakiil met together between the stars. A fleet of ships sailed with them, and in a thunderous explosion of unharnessed, magical energy…

Someone called him. The amulet shone at his neck, calling.

He was running. The floor was the maze engraved in the amulet, and he tivisted around corners, following the narrow walls and the fleeting shadow that hovered just out of his vision.

Teldin!

He stopped suddenly. Cwelanas stood nude before him. She was radiant, her silver hair flowing down her shoulders. She beckoned to him. He took one step- Teldin! — and stopped.

Cwelanas came to him, reached for him with one soft hand, and ran a finger down his chest.

Her hair caught fire. Her finger glowed where she touched the sigil imprinted on his chest, and her face, her body, was seared away in a blast of light.

Then it was Gaye standing before him, the kender who loved him, whom he had left with the fal One Six Nine millions of miles away. She glowed with an inner fire, like a being of raw power. Her dark eyes danced with golden fire, and her youthful appearance seemed infused with a neu? awareness, one of newly found purpose. Her long black hair swam around her head as though it were alive, and her robes, tied at her waist with a belt woven with golden symbols, flowed about her.

His love for her washed over him in a warm embrace, and he saw for the first time how much she resembled Cwelanas. Then she spoke, but her words were distant, a whisper on the winds of dream.

He cocked his head. Gaye shouted, but the dream wind scattered her words as though they were pieces of broken feathers.

She floated before him and stretched out her hand. She placed her palm upon the design on his chest, and he heard her words in his head, though she did not speak.

Three things you must understand, Cloakmaster, three things that I cannot explain.

The closest are not what they seem.

Follow the woven heart.

The mark will show the trust.

Then Gaye faded from his view, a beatific smile lit like fire behind her eyes. He called out for her, reached out to her with his strong, bare arms, but she was gone.

He was awake then, alone in his bunk in the Tower of Thought. Gaye's name was but an echo in his ears.

In the dim light from the flow, he climbed out of bed and dipped his hands in a water basin and splashed away the cold sweat that had formed on his face and neck. The water trickled down his chest, and he touched his skin, looking for the mark that had burned there in the dream.

She had been so close, and Teldin had no idea what the dream was all about, why he had seen Gaye so clearly, so differently. She had changed, he saw, if that was really she who had come to him. He shook his head. No, it was a stupid dream. Gaye was long gone, just a kender, a friend. She did not have the power to travel through the realm of dream.

He could feel he was still weary from the day's adventures, but he had been asleep for four or five hours-usually enough for him. It was probably almost day watch on the great ship, anyway, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. He felt anxious and suddenly wanted to get out of his room and explore.

He turned and reached for his clothes, and he noticed that his door was open, just a crack. He pulled on his pants and reached for his short sword.

Slowly, he pulled open the door.

It was Cwelanas. She faced away from the door, her back to him. She was weeping into her hand.

"Cwelanas?" he said.

She shook her head. "I heard you call out- "

And Teldin realized she must have heard him call for Gaye while he had been dreaming. He smiled and turned around, tossing his sword across his bed. He reached forward to take her in his arms. "Cwelanas, I was just dreaming- "

She turned. Her eyes were wide and crazed, rimmed with red. Tears streamed down her face. Her mouth was contorted in a grotesque expression of inner agony, and she jerked her hand out from underneath her dark cloak.

Something glimmered in her hand. Her knuckles were white and taut, her fingers tightly gripped around a wicked, snakelike dagger. Her lips quivered with terror. She raised the weapon above her head. "I–I love you, Teldin!" she screamed. "I love you!" And she swung the silver point down toward Teldin's heart.