The Ultimate Helm Read online

  He looked into Teldin’s face. “Part of her didn’t want to live, not after what she tried to do to you. You’ll need to take care of that, I think. I’ve done all I can do, all anyone can do. Her elven strength helped her. If she had been human, I doubt she would have survived the neogi magic.”

  He placed a hand on Teldin’s shoulder. “Now, if you love her – and if these old eyes of mine can still see right, I think you do – you have to bring her back. Show her you care, that you understand it wasn’t her. That’s what she’s afraid of: that you won’t forgive her.”

  Teldin nodded silently, then thanked the king for coming. Leoster quickly admonished him to let Cwelanas sleep for a while. “Don’t go in just yet. She needs her rest,” Leoster said. “She needs to heal. There will be time enough for reconciliations.”

  Teldin let her sleep for several hours before his concern for her got the better of him. He left a meeting with CassaRoc and Chaladar and climbed the stairs to her quarters.

  Two armed guards stood outside in the corridor. Teldin thought they were unnecessary, but CassaRoc had insisted, as a precaution. “Look what happened last time,” he had said.

  Teldin reached for the door.

  The room smelled of incense and medicine. He closed the door behind him and stood over her, watching her face in the light from the flow.

  Her hair was damp and stringy, where she had perspired heavily during her struggles against Leoster’s magic. Her face seemed thinner, paler, and she breathed peacefully in her sleep.

  Her wrist bones had been healed by CassaRoc’s healers, but her arm was heavily bandaged as a precaution, and had been salved with a numbing potion. The sheets had fallen to reveal her shoulders, the swell of her breasts. He reached to cover her, then stared in rising anger at the brand that would forever mar her once-perfect flesh.

  Teldin knew he would kill the neogi bastard who had marked her. For once, Teldin wanted blood on his hands.

  He brought the sheets around her neck and sat down in a wooden chair near the bunk. He watched Cwelanas for a few minutes, then let his eyes close as he rested. Far too much had happened to him already, and he had been aboard the Spelljammer for only a day. Now he felt it in his bones, and the soft light and the smells relaxed him, washed over him like a spell.

  He woke to a gentle touch on his knee. He pulled himself up and smiled at Cwelanas, who had reached out and awakened him. He held her hand in his, felt her cool, soft skin against his calloused palm.

  They spoke simultaneously.

  “How do you feel?” he said.

  “Are you all right?” said she.

  Cwelanas smiled weakly. I’m sorry,” she whispered. A tear formed in the comer of her eye.

  Teldin bent over and kissed her hand. “You didn’t do anything, you know that. It was the neogi.”

  He could see in her golden eyes that, yes, she knew that, but she still held herself responsible.

  He ran his hand along her face. “You have to stop blaming yourself. You had no control over what they did to you.”

  She wept softly then, into Teldin’s hand. He wiped her face with a cool, damp cloth.

  “You don’t know how I fought them,” she said quietly. “You don’t know what they did to me.”

  Teldin looked into her eyes and said nothing. What could he say? He had been through a neogi torture session himself, not long after his quest had begun. He knew first-hand their innate hatred of other races, their inbred egotism that labeled other lives simply as “meat.”

  He knew the pain he heard when his bones had cracked, when he had tasted the warm tang of his own blood.

  He knew.

  He held her in his arms. There was nothing to say.

  After a while, she told him what had really happened to her after their parting at Sancrist. Her voice was flat and emotionless, toneless, as though the telling were merely mechanical, a way of purging herself of the black neogi poisons. But it was more than that. She felt drained, empty, worthless. She could feel nothing, right now, except shame. How could Teldin feel anything for her if she could feel nothing herself?

  “I told the truth about the wildspace pirates,” she began, “of Krynnspace. But not all of it.

  “They captured me not long after you left. They wanted your cloak, and somehow – I never found out how – they tracked me down. They thought I knew where you went, and why.

  “They kept me for several days, until we were overtaken by a squadron of neogi ships outside Krynnspace – deathspiders and a mindspider. The pirates had no chance. The neogi forces were larger and stronger, and the pirates were easily killed.

  “The neogi wanted me, too, to hunt down the cloak. I was tortured.” She choked up. Teldin handed her a mug of cold water. “I told them nothing, for I had no idea where you were. Then their commander, B’Laath’a, decided to... make me a slave... mentally.

  “He went inside my mind for information. Then he planted things there. He tried to subvert me. He wanted you dead, to get the cloak. The neogi know all about ultimate helms, and how they guide their bearers out into space. They knew it was only a matter of time until you reached the Spelljammer. It was your destiny, even they could see that.

  “I was their last chance to seize the Spelljammer. One neogi ship brought me here, just myself and B’Laath’a. I don’t know how he found the Spelljammer from so far away, but B’Laath’a is an evil mage, and I know he made sacrifices to get the gods to give him information.

  “He deliberately set me adrift in the phlogiston, right in the Spelljammer’s path. B’Laath’a landed here. After he ingratiated himself with Master Coh, the two of them made sure that the humans discovered me in the flow. He knew they would try to rescue me, and then I’d be planted in the community where you would first be accepted.

  “I lost track of how long we waited for you to arrive. They used to smuggle me through a secret passage into Coh’s quarters in the neogi tower. They never let up, pushing themselves into my mind with their spells...

  “I fought against them, Teldin. I did, I swear I did. Even as I was trying to kill you, I was struggling inside to control myself, to take control of my actions. I’ve never felt so powerless. And all that time, I was trying to scream at you, to warn you, to make myself just let go of the dagger...”

  She was quiet for so long then that Teldin thought she had fallen asleep in his arms. Then she said, “He marked me.”

  Her eyes glazed over. “He kept me awake while he did it, to make sure I understood that I was property, his property.” She paused. “It burned. He laughed at me as he marked me. He made a joke about how it would make my flesh tender, tastier.”

  “I think our mages can take it off,” Teldin said softly.

  Cwelanas was silent, then she shifted away from him and turned to face the wall.

  “What is it?” Teldin asked.

  He heard her sniffle into the sheets. “How can you even stand to be with me, after what I did?”

  “You didn’t do it. In all of this, you are innocent. You’ve just been another pawn of the neogi, and, believe me, they will pay for hurting you.”

  He knew when he said it that his feelings for her were more than friendship, even more than simple attraction. He wanted revenge against the black-hearted creatures, because he had cared for Cwelanas for a long time, had cared for her more than he had ever known. Now, seeing her huddled beside him and so vulnerable, marked with her shame both mentally and physically, he realized he truly loved her.

  He chided himself for being so dense, so caught up in his quest, that he had not immediately recognized it as love. And he wondered if he would be feeling this way now if it hadn’t been for his dream of Gaye Goldring and her cryptic messages. Yes, the trust for Cwelanas was there, and he knew it was not misplaced; but he was not sure he could have acknowledged his emotions if the dream had not slapped him awake.

  Or had it been a dream?

  No, he realized, it was not a dream. It had been Gaye, calli
ng to him, he knew, but from where? All the way from Herd-space? And how? He shook his head, wondering if he would ever understand the true meaning of his journey, the simple “why” that had pulled him out into the endless sea of the flow.

  Still, Gaye’s thoughts had been of him, and of those he cared for. The mark will show the trust.

  Aside from proving Cwelanas’s innocence, did that also mean that Cwelanas cared for him? That he could trust in her love as well as her loyalty?

  He was not sure, and he hated that; he had been too trustful in the past, and, although he wanted to trust Cwelanas with his life, after Rianna’s treachery, and that of Aelfred Silverhorn, he knew he was scared, perhaps too scared, to fully trust anyone again.

  He fought down his feelings of distrust and fear. He watched Cwelanas, lying on her side. Her chest was rising slowly, softly, and he knew that she had fallen asleep again. Cwelanas had suffered torture and mental rape and had gone through what would have been too much for him, more than he could have expected of anyone. Now he knew he must go through the fire for her.

  He smiled and gently disentangled himself from her. He tucked her in and kissed the side of her head.

  He watched her for another minute, then he whispered, in a voice so soft that he could hardly hear it himself, “I love you.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  But Cwelanas had not been asleep at all, and her heart had thudded like thunder when she had heard him confess his love.

  She wanted to spin around and reach out for him, shouting his name, and have him take her up in his arms and hold her tight, so the pain, the memories of the sharp instruments of the neogi, would all go away.

  She heard the metallic click of the door latch. She turned as she heard his feet echo down the corridor. But she could not reach out, she could not cry his name. She had hurt him too much; and now, no matter what he had said, she knew that he belonged here, fulfilling his quest on the Spelljammer, and that anything he once felt for her would be better left forgotten.

  For how could he really love someone who had tried to kill him?

  Forget him, she thought. He’ll never be yours. You don’t deserve him.

  When she finally fell back to sleep, her pillows were dark with her tears.

  Chapter Twelve

  “... Why is it that most of us have never considered leaving? Do we not have the free will granted to us by the gods? Why are so many of us ignorant – or uninterested – in the Spelljammer’s true nature? Most of us do not realize that the Spelljammer is a ship: it is believed by some to be a floating city, or a living beast upon which we live, or even a god. Even now, I am not sure that my perception of things is correct....

  “... This absence of curiosity among the populace is itself most curious....”

  Nab Featherley, gnome;

  reign of the Shrouded Man

  In the moist darkness of the horned tower, Drikka and Lord Trebek of the illithids walked silently down the tower stairs to the audience chamber on the main level. Drikka opened the door for the leader and Trebek made a grand, silent entrance, swirling his long black cape dramatically around him.

  The walls of the horned tower were hung with long red draperies, highlighting ancient tapestries and sculptures that portrayed the history of the illithid community on board the Spelljammer. Light rods cast a pale glow from golden sconces set in the walls, creating deep shadows in the corners of the room and behind the aged tapestries of silk and golden thread.

  It was in such a shadow that Estriss hid, safe from the suspicious eyes of his brethren. He knew well the hateful nature of illithids, and he knew well that Lord Trebek had been scornful of him from the start.

  This address had been kept secret from Estriss; it had been only through a barely overheard conversation between two mind flayers that Estriss had learned of Trebek’s proclamation, so he hid in an alcove behind a tapestry in the audience chamber and waited.

  The great audience chamber was crowded with the Spelljammer’s entire illithid community. Dressed in their traditional gowns of black or gray, the mind flayers turned as one upon Trebek’s entrance, then bowed their heads as he took his seat upon the royal dais. Drikka bowed as well and stood with the other illithids to Trebek’s right.

  There is much to discuss, Trebek announced in the hissing thought-speech of the mind flayers, much that concerns the future of the illithids.

  The mass of seventy illithids stood in silent respect for Lord Trebek. Although he was a relative newcomer to the Spelljammer, Trebek had wisely stayed out of clan politics and had enjoyed a neutral position among his people, garnering friends on all sides who had eventually recognized him as their leader.

  Breakox is dead. He let that sink in for a moment as the mind flayers shifted uneasily. Breakox is dead, murdered by the beholders. Our plans to take control of the minotaurs must be abandoned, as they appear to be under beholder control.

  Trebek rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his claws before him. We are not warriors, he thought to the mind flayers. We are illithids – we control. There is much we can do to wrest the Spelljammer from the hands of our enemies – and much we can do to foster war among the other races, while keeping ourselves well protected.

  He stood and paced before the mind flayers. Estriss watched Trebek silently from his hiding place. Enemies, Trebek had said. Estriss knew how illithids thought: everyone was a potential enemy, especially if they were not of the mind flayers.

  The Cloakmaster has come. Battles have been fought between the minotaurs and the beholders, between the elves and the goblins. As our enemies destroy themselves, we will be in the perfect position to swoop down upon the remaining forces and enslave them. The needs of the illithids are of paramount concern. When the Dark Times fall upon the ship, we will need more than our tasteless brain mold to survive. We will need the brains of our enemies.

  The assembled mind flayers began to hiss in expectation. Trebek knew precisely what words to use, what promises to make, what strings to pull. Like any good politician, he knew to promise them everything, then deny it all later.

  I have worked hard to keep our enemies on edge with each other. Our position now is highly... tentative. He stopped at the front of the dais and looked deliberately into their midst. Our ultimate enemies are the elves. They are perhaps the strongest community on board, and I believe that any battles in which we become involved should directly affect the downfall of the elves.

  The mind flayers hissed agreement.

  Our position is one of mental and sociological superiority. I will not allow our race to become sullied by the warlike emotions of the other races.

  We must stay out of this war for the Spelljammer until it is clear that we can win. It is only by fostering enmity between the elves and the goblins that our enemies will be decimated to the point that we will become victorious. Let us antagonize the elves, and then attack, so that the Spelljammer will be ours!

  The assemblage applauded its leader, and Trebek went on to detail his plans for insurrection among the races aboard the Spelljammer.

  Alone among the illithids, hidden from the eyes of his evil brethren, Estriss watched and listened silently, holding counsel with himself. Only Estriss considered the Spelljammer an intrinsic force in the universe, as something more than an object of conquest.

  Only he, of all the mind flayers, had a friend who was human.

  With all the others of his own kind surrounding him, he felt completely, utterly alone.

  Enemies, Trebek had said.

  Estriss listened and watched and wondered who the enemies really were.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “... Racial warfare will be ignored and will lead to unity whenever a threat is made to the Spelljammer. Then the races will come together and fight as brothers to preserve their cherished home. I myself have seen the lords of the illithids and elves, pitched in glorious battle, drop their arms as the Spelljammer was attacked from the Rainbow Ocean and
fight side by side...”

  Bernard, scribe of the Guild;

  Scroll of the Seven Suns.

  After speaking with Cwelanas in her quarters, Teldin went downstairs to watch CassaRoc and Chaladar, the paladin, put their warriors through sword practice and hand-to-hand combat. Then they went to the tower’s armory and checked the condition of the weapons. A feeling of anxiety had come upon him suddenly, as soon as word had reached the tower of the meeting going on in the beholder ruins. The possible alliance of the beholders with the minotaurs, ogres, and hill giants meant only trouble for the humans under the flag of the Cloakmaster.

  “Nothing good can come of this,” CassaRoc said.

  Chaladar grunted once, and his hand settled on the hilt of his sword. “They are preparing for war. All of them, the unhumans.”

  CassaRoc smiled. “Ah, well. What does it matter? With the warriors of all the Human Collective, and our unhuman allies, they will not stand a chance. Ahh, I like a good fight.”

  Teldin’s chest suddenly grew tight and warm. He stopped in midstride.

  “What’s wrong?” Chaladar asked.

  “This is wrong,” Teldin said, clutching his chest. CassaRoc came up and looked him over.

  Chaladar said, “Are you well?”

  “I have to do something,” Teldin said, “get out. We’re doing nothing here but talking. I need to – to roam. The adytum. I need to find the Spelljammer’s adytum.”

  They went to the common room and sat at a table. “Perhaps its time you did some exploring,” CassaRoc said. “A few of our warriors, with you in disguise...”

  Teldin said abruptly, “It’s in that direction.”

  CassaRoc turned from the tap. Teldin was standing, pointing a finger at the tower wall.

  “That’s toward the stern,” Chaladar said slowly. “How do you know?”

  Teldin shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.. He looked down at the amulet, where he clutched his chest, and felt a shock ripple across his skin. “Paladine’s blood! What...?”