Beyong the Moons

Chapter Twenty-five

The pistol lesson went quickly, though, despite Gomja’s assurances, it seemed like so much magic to Teldin. The rattle of eager footsteps toward the bridge signaled the lesson’s end. The giff, knowing the gnomes would dearly love to dismantle and analyze his precious weapons, hastily scraped everything back into the pouches.

The clanking door’s valves parted and Captain Wysdor, the braid-bedecked gnome from their earlier meeting, rushed onto the bridge. Gone was the jeweler’s loupe, but the gray braids remained. He wore practical, ordinary shirt and trousers. His leather apron, standard dress for a working gnome, was scratched and cracking with age. The captain’s arms were covered with grease up to the elbows. “It’s done, sir!” he shouted, breathless from his hurried trip from the depths of the engine hold to the bridge. “Wefinishedthe-modificationstothespelljammerhelm-”

“What’s done?” Teldin demanded. The rapid gnomish speech was adding to his already throbbing headache. Gomja, his brows knitted as he tried to figure out what had been said, towered over the gnome.

Even the normally professional captain found it difficult to suppress his natural pride in the Unquenchable. “The spelljammer helm has been mounted, as instructed by the large, blue-skinned stranger who calls himself Gomja-"

“You told us that already,” Teldin snapped. “Well, yes,” Captain Wysdor said, catching his breath and slowing down, “but now we have finished all the modifications to the helm-”

“Does this mean the ship can leave?” Teldin asked, ignoring the gnome’s wordy barrage.

“-yes-and furthermore we have made several improvements on the design, which, though untested, should enhance the overall performance of the spelljammer engine, assuming, of course, various assumptions about the physical properties of space made by Master Alphonlongrutadinatachruvinuscadilmastrki-”

“We can leave, right?” Teldin demanded again, laying one hand on the captain’s shoulder. He wanted to be absolutely certain that the gnome had answered his question. Teldin suppressed the urge to shout in the little fellow’s face.

The captain stopped, pointedly removed Teldin’s hand, and carefully straightened his braid. “Yes,” he answered icily, glaring up at the human with impressive dignity, the mantle of professionalism restored.

Teldin stared just as fiercely back, unintimidated by the gnome’s posturing. “Is everything else ready?” He kept his finger poised to cut off any long-winded speeches.

“The Unquenchable will be ready to depart as soon as the admiralty reaches the bridge and gives the necessary-"

“Excellent,” Teldin interrupted. Human patience with gnomes and their ways was wearing thin.

Gomja, poking his head out the door, called back to those inside. “The admirals are coming, sir. I don’t think you’re going to like it, though.”

“Admirals?” Teldin echoed.

“Admirals, sir. Three of them,” Gomja explained as he stepped back into the room. Captain Wysdor hastily stepped out of the way.

Marching in lockstep, the three admirals-neatly groomed Ilwar, wild-haired Niggil, and paunchy Broz- strode onto the bridge. The three were dressed in comical blue-and-green uniforms, overloaded with gold braid and heraldic symbols. Behind them came a jostling gaggle of technicians, toting unruly boxes of charts and papers. Gomja unconsciously stiffened to attention and snapped off a salute. “Admirals on the bridge, sir!” he bawled in proper military fashion.

With a groan Teldin collapsed into one of the gnome- sized chairs. Spotting him, the three admirals burst into congratulations at his escape, and shook his hands until Teldin though his miserable joints would be wrenched ftee once again. Finally Ilwar srpoothed his square, black beard and asserted control. “Officer of the Day, prepare a boat to carry Teldin Moore of Kalanian back to shore,” Ilwar ordered. Captain Wysdor moved toward the door.

“That’s not necessary,” Teldin quickly put in, before the orders could be set in motion. “I’m staying.”

“You are staying?” the gnome squeaked with surprise. His wrinkled eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Teldin. The concerned old gnome laid a paternalistic hand on the yeoman’s arm. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly, keeping his question simple. “What about the farm you talked about? You may never get back, you know.” Teldin nodded in understanding, but the square-bearded admiral would not be put off. “Teldin Moore of Kalaman, you do not have to do this because of us, and you are not to blame for what has happened, nor do I want you to go with us for these reasons, so be sure of what you are saying-”

“I would be honored to sail with you,” the cloakmaster answered firmly.

Ilwar nodded a little reluctantly. “Belay that order, Officer of the Day!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “Excellent to have you aboard, Teldin Moore of Kalaman,” the admiral said cheerfully, his demeanor completely changing upon seeing Teldin’s resolve. “I am very glad we will have the opportunity for further scientific study of your cloak, which, of course, you realize, can only be conducted beyond the earthly influences of Krynn, and that is why we recommended you come with us in the first place-” Behind Ilwar, admirals Niggil and Broz eagerly chattered in excitement to each other, clearly pleased with the human’s decision.

Teldin could already see the greedy scientific gleam in Niggil’s eyes. Holding his hand up, he firmly announced, “There’ll be no testing of the cloak until I say so-if I say so. Is that understood?” Somewhat crestfallen by the announcement, the three gnomes, Niggil in particular, reluctantly agreed in their long-winded way.

“But my life-quest-” Niggil began to whimper before a shudder ran through the deck and cut him off. Through the forward portal they all could see the deathspider fire a missile from its aft. They heard the grinding noise of another ballista bolt hit.

“Captain Wysdor, get this thing out of here before the neogi sink us,” Teldin urgently suggested. Captain Wysdor looked lamely at the three admirals. It didn’t surprise Teldin that the gnomes would be redundant in choosing officers.

“Yes, yes, do as the human orders,” Ilwar said. “Crew, assume positions and prepare presailing check. Bridge doors closed?”

The valves rattled shut. “Bridge doors closed-check!” shouted a squeaky voice. Even before that was finished, Niggil called out another step, followed by a shouted reply. Soon all three admirals were calling for confirmations, overlapping and, to Teldin’s ear, contradicting each other. The crew seemed to find nothing unusual at all in the whole procedure, though at one point it seemed as if bearded Ilwar and goggle-eyed Niggil were about to come to blows over whether the bridge doors should be open or closed. They finally compromised by leaving them halfway.

Teldin kneeled next to the captain, who, throughout all the checks, double checks, and counterchecks, had said or done nothing but wait patiently to assume his place at the center of the bridge. “How does this ship fly anyway, Captain Wysdor?” Teldin asked, curious to know just how he was going to be traveling. “Where’s that chair, the helm?”

Wysdor drew himself up, proud to be of service. “The chair, as you call it, is the spelljammer engine, and it has been installed in the engine room, where is can provide motive power to the paddlewheels-”

“Engine room? What’s that?”

“Why, that is the room where the spelljamming engine is housed, since the engine must be close to the paddlewheel shafts to turn the-”

“Well, how does the bridge tell it what to do?” Teldin asked, sensing that he was getting an elaborately circular explanation.

“Ah,” Wysdor said brightly, “that’s the ingenious part of it, because from here we can visually examine our route, then, by means of automated carillon signal system…"

Seeing the human’s confused look, Wysdor stopped and struggled to find a simpler explanation. “By means of signal bells, the bridge tells the engine to go slow or fast,” he finally explained, as if talking to a child.

At least that made sense to Teldin. The clamor on the bridge continued unabated, and Teldin had to shout over the noise for Wysdor to hear him. “So what powers the engine? It was only a chair.”

Wysdor stared at the ceiling as he tried to think of the simple way to describe the process. “This is very hard to explain. According to studies of the Spelljammer’s Guild, the spelljammer engine derives its energy through the absorption of thaumaturgical power, which it then redirects into motive force, which-”

“Eh?” the puzzled human interjected.

Wysdor sighed and tried again. “It, uh, drains spells from our ship’s wizard and uses that power to lift the ship.” The captain looked to see if Teldin understood.

“But I thought you said the paddlewheels moved the ship.” The farmer’s head was hurting again. A bustling gnome carrying a bundle of charts and scrolls squeezed between Teldin’s legs, bound for the admirals.

“The paddlewheels are a vital part of the secondary systems, as are the masts and sails, just in case the engine should fail at some critical time during flight and the need for secondary backup systems becomes apparent, in which case-"

“Ready and away!” Ilwar finally shouted, interrupting

Captain Wysdor’s explanation. Wysdor bobbed a quick bow, ushered everyone to a seat, and hurried to assume his post beside Ilwar, Niggil, and Broz. A hush fell over the assembled gnomes, giving the maiden flight-and first field test-of the new and improved Unquenchable a near-religious significance. Teldin tensed with eager expectation, not really knowing what was supposed to happen.

All at once the silence was shattered by the blaring of clanging bells and ear-shattering whistles. Teldin sprang from his seat. “What’s wrong?” he shouted to anyone who would listen. Gomja stood wincing, his ears pressed tightly against his head.

Instead of answering, the gnomes let loose with a cheer. Their celebration was broken by a violent jerk as the deck suddenly lurched upward, a movement that threw Teldin and the rest of the crew sprawling to the floor. The cloakmaster hit the wooden deck on one shoulder and lay gasping for breath as the reignited pain of his injuries coursed along his nerves like molten fire. Only Gomja, feet widespread and knees braced, remained standing. With one big hand, the giff easily hoisted the numb human back to his feet.

The deck wobbled underfoot. Eager and fearful, Teldin joined the gnomes crowding around the portholes. Tall enough to stand in the back, the human was able to look over the assembled heads as the gnomes jumped up and down, fighting for a glimpse of the outdoors. Beyond the edges of the deck, the crater lake’s dark water slowly receded. The Unquenchable was airborne.

And headed straight for the neogi deathspider, Teldin noted when he raised his eyes to the horizon. “Gomja!” he shouted. “What’s the plan for getting past the enemy?”

Gomja pushed his way over to Teldin and shouted over the pinging racket the Unquenchable made. “Plan? I assume the improvements to speed the gnomes made on the helm will let us easily outrun the neogi ship, sir.”

“Improvements to speed?” Admiral Niggil spoke up, overhearing their exchange. “Oh, no, no, no. We improved the sound and color of the helm, not the speed, since- Teldin and Gomja looked at him with expressions of fear on their faces. “Admiral,” Teldin practically screamed, “that’s a neogi ship out there! How do you expect to get past it?”

The impractical Niggil looked at the human with a pained and confused look on his face. “But why should they chase us? This is only a scientific-”

“Gods, Gomja, we’ve got to do something!” Teldin yelled as he comprehended the gnomes’ utter naivete. The giff nodded in agreement, still stunned to find the gnomes so unprepared. Out the fore porthole, Teldin could see that the deathspider had already started into motion. The slender legs were beginning to open, ready to receive the onrushing Unquenchable. Teldin grabbed Niggil, practically lifting the little gnome off the floor. “Niggil-that deathspider. What are you going to do?”

The gnome sputtered and kicked, as unprepared for Teldin’s assault as he was for the attacking ship. Furious, Teldin pushed Niggil aside and grabbed Ilwar. “The deathspider!” Teldin yelled at him, pointing at the approaching ship.

The stately Ilwar looked out the window. His brownish skin went pale at the sight of the voracious neogi ship bearing down on the lumbering Unquenchable. “Oh, dear,” Ilwat mumbled, awestruck by the vision. “They mean to attack us, don’t they?”

The answer to Ilwar’s question came as a shattering boom mingled with the grating screech of tearing metal. The Unquenchable heaved forward and everyone, Gomja included, slid to the back of the bridge as the bow suddenly angled upward. As the portholes flashed by, Teldin caught glimpses of the deathspider’s metal legs wrap around the Unquenchable’s hull in a murderous embrace. The view ended when the farmer thudded into an unyielding mass of arms, legs, chests, and boxes.

Floundering out of the pile of tangled gnomes, Teldin shouted at Gomja over the noise of the groaning hull. “What’s happening?"

“She’s grappled us, sir,” the giff boomed. “Prepare to be boarded!” Gomja grabbed the doorjamb and heaved a group of the gnomes outside.

Teldin staggered across the canted deck to Gomja’s side, dragging Ilwar along by the collar of his uniform. Planting the admiral between himself and the giff, he shouted questions at the dazed gnome. “Do you have weapons aboard-big ones?”

“No, Teldinmooreofkalaman,” Ilwar answered, too dazed to obfuscate. “This is a scientific vessel.”

“Wonderful,” Teldin commented sarcastically. “Then at least keep your spelljammer engine going full-speed reverse to try breaking free.” He let go of the gnome, who scrambled back to the slowly untangling mass of his fellows to pass on commands. “Gomja, we’d better organize something to repel boarders.” The giff nodded in agreement, a smile crossing his face at the thought of battle.

With an easy pull, the big fellow dragged Teldin off the bridge and onto the deck. Up near the bow, they could already see the grappling legs drawing the gnomish ship closer to its hull. Only one leg was firmly embedded in the bow; the others clung precariously to projections along the Unquenchable’s sides. Umber hulks were already clambering through the rigging of the anchored leg, gradually nearing the bow.

“That’s where they intend to attack, sir!” Gomja bellowed over the continuous squeal of grinding metal. None of the other grapples is secure enough to carry a boarding party.

Teldin nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll fight them. Come on.” He charged along the pitching ship’s deck, past masts and cabins, toward the gangways that led to the main deck. As the pair worked their way forward, they corraled every gnome that scrambled into their path. Those Gomja deemed fit to fight joined their growing squad; the rest Teldin curtly ordered to fetch axes and begin work chopping the other grappling arms away.

Teldin and Gomja pressed on, down the gangway and onto the main deck, past the ship’s boat, swinging wildly on its davits, and through the jumble of booms and chains the gnomes used to load cargo. By the time they reached the bow, the two commanders had an ad hoc collection of engineers, deckhands, and scientific types carrying everything from swords to spanners. The little warriors noted the lordservants’ advance with apprehension, but none shirked from his or her duty.

Deferring to Gomja’s battle sense, Teldin watched as the giff deployed the defenders. The deathspider’s leg had driven through the bow and now formed an arch from ship to ship, the way lined by web-like sails. The leg made a firm boarding ramp for the neogi attackers, who were about halfway across when the gnome defenders arrived.

Still trapped in a single-file line on the narrow leg, the umber hulks in the lead were at a clear disadvantage, which Gomja intended to capitalize on. Giving brisk orders, the giff divided the gnomes into two groups and stationed them on both sides of the attackers. Teldin remained to one side as the giff planted himself at the head of the army, squarely in the path of the attacking lordservants. His flanks were supported by the doughtiest of the gnomes, armed with spears, poles, or any kind of long weapon. Those few gnomes with crossbows were sent to the upper deck, where they would have clear shots at the enemy’s back ranks.

“We’ll hold them on the grapple,” Gomja ordered his companions as he primed his pistol. The giff was not one for making speeches, but his fierce look of determination inspired the little warriors with him. The gnome fighters assumed their fiercest scowls, ready for the task.

“Sir, have your lot try to push them off the walk with spears,” the giff shouted to Teldin. “With a good shove, you should be able to topple them over the side.” The cloakmaster looked over the edge. The two ships, straining and grinding against each other, had drifted away from the lake and were now flying high above the crater’s rocky walls. A fall from this height, Teldin guessed, would mean certain death for the lordservants.

The deck lurched and swayed as the first umber hulk came unsteadily down the deathspider’s leg. The creature’s bulk allowed it to bat easily through the thicket of poles and spears put up by Teldin’s squad of gnomes. Before the lordservant could reach the bow, however, Gomja rose up with his pistol leveled at the beast. “To the void with you!” he bellowed, his defiant cry punctuated by his pistol’s crack. The space between the two giants filled with smoke. The umber hulk reeled back with a squeal as a lead ball smashed through its forehead, then it stumbled over an out-thrust spear, plunged off the wood-and-metal leg, tore through the thin sails, and plummeted to the rocks below. “Again! Again!” cheered the gnomes as they marveled at Gomja’s wonderful weapon. The giff only shook his head, thrust the still-smoking pistol back into his sash, and drew his elven blade.

Another lordservant charged forward to take the first’s place, once again tearing through the bristle of spear points. Its wild rush was finally stopped by Gomja’s almost equally matched bulk as the giff stood astride the spiderleg boom. Gomja, now in his element, wielded his sword with crazed intensity, aided by the gnomes at his side. Teldin had little time to watch, since another of the hideous umber hulks already charged down the boom. Unable to proceed past its predecessor, who was locked in battle with the giff, the newcomer slashed and battled against the forest of spears.

“On my signal, lunge!” Teldin shouted to the gnomes around him. “Now!” A wall of spear points thrust at the umber hulk. A rope shot out from the other side of the bow and snaked over one of the creature’s mandibles, jerking the beast’s head to the far side. The spears pressed at it and, though these were unable to penetrate the creature’s bony hide, the beast staggered back. Suddenly one taloned foot was clawing air and the umber hulk plunged over the side with a chittering squeal. A faint, pulpy thump echoed from the rocks below. Almost mindlessly, another pushed forward to take its place.

Although the umber hulks possessed advantages of size and ferocity, the battle was unwinnable almost from the start, once their chance of reaching the bow was lost. Restricted to their narrow beam, the lordservants were unable to bring their might to bear. While the front rank of gnome defenders, Gomja at their head, stalled the lead attacker, Teldin and his squad brought the second rank down. From the deck above could be heard the twang of crossbows as gnomish marksmen concentrated on ranks even farther back. Time after time the gigantic umber hulks plunged to their deaths, and as more of the lordservants fell, Gomja boldly pushed himself farther and farther onto the deathspider’s leg.

Just when the giff was almost beyond the reach of the spears, the two ships rolled precipitously to the right as the Unquenchable tore free of all but this, the last of the deathspider’s grasping arms. Teldin suddenly found himself sliding across the deck in a snarl of gnomes. There was a series of unnatural screams followed by the distant thuds of flesh on rock. “Gomja!” the human shouted in panic, dreading that his friend may have been among those lost.

“Still here, sir!” boomed the giff. The big brute had caught the bow railing just in time, but the lordservants facing him had not been so lucky. The other spider legs were clear of the gnomes’ vessel, and now the wooden beam was all that joined the two ships.

“Axes, quickly!” Teldin shouted, pushing the gnomes around him to action. There was no telling how long this opportunity might remain. “Chop that leg free!” The gnomes scrambled quickly to gather the necessary tools. Turning to Gomja, still on the beam, the farmer waved the big giff back. “Clear off, Gomja, we’re ready to go!”

“No, sir, I won’t!” Gomja shouted back. He stood unsteadily in the center of the boom, his sword and tunic splashed with blood. “First platoon, gather to me!” he bellowed, raising his elven blade as a rallying point. Already the fiercest of the gnomes scrambled to join him.

“Gomja, what’re you doing? Get back here. I order it!” Teldin cupped his hands and shouted to the giff over the freshening breeze.

“I’m sorry to disobey, but I’ve got to, sir. This tub-” Gomja waved his sword toward the Unquenchable- “can’t outrun a deathspider. The neogi ship’s got to be stopped from the inside. First platoon!” he bawled again.

“There’s got to be another way,” the human insisted as he forced his way onto the boom.

“No, sir,” Gomja answered firmly. He strode down the leg to meet his friend, balancing himself with his sword. “It’s time I took on a command, sir, a real command.” The giff held out his big hand to Teldin. “It really is good-bye this time, sir. Don’t worry, I’ll get back all right-maybe even aboard this deathspider.”

Teldin looked at the giffs offered hand and then, finally, took it in his own. They had been together long enough for Teldin to learn Gomja’s sense of honor. The farmer did not like it-did not even understand it-but he could not deny the giff his chance for glory. “Damn it, good luck, Sergeant Gomja. You’re going to be a famous giff someday. You’ll have a lot of stories to tell when you become a sire.” The wind whipped the cloak around Teldin’s arms.

“Thank you, sir. I’m sure you’ll be in them, too.” The giff shook the human’s hand firmly, but Teldin didn’t even notice the crushing pain. “Now, clear off, sir, so your gnomes can cut that plank.”

The cloakmaster nodded numbly and backed off the deathspider boom, signaling his axemen to their task as he did so. “First platoon, charge!” Gomja bawled. With a rush, the big giff led his handful of gnomes up the arching span of the leg, then straight down into the deathspider’s maw. The giff scrambled onto the hull and disappeared from sight. Over the wind, Teldin could barely hear the sounds of battle. That distant noise was drowned out by the sound of axes biting into wood.

Teldin stood back and watched, ready to order the gnomes to stop if there was any sign of the giff or his men, but none came. Finally, the last axe blows severed the deathspider’s leg and the Unquenchable lurched backward with a savage jolt. The splintered end of the wooden boom dragged across the bow with a grinding squeal, then swung out over emptiness. Without waiting to supervise the cleanup, Teldin turned and sprinted back to the bridge, barreling past any gnome who got in his way.

Bursting onto the bridge, the farmer found the three admirals and Captain Wysdor already hard at work, quarreling with each other. “Gomja’s bought us time, so use it!” he demanded without even bothering to learn what their argument was about. He was furious that the gnomes were wasting this precious opportunity. Amazingly Teldin’s fierce imprecations galvanized the commanders to function with a modicum of efficiency and brevity. “Hard up! Full speed!” the captain, who had the clearest head of the lot, ordered in a bewildering flurry of commands while the admirals pored over charts and log books. Bells rang and whistles blew from somewhere belowdecks. The Unquenchable lurched again and hauled upward, pulling fully out of the deathspider’s grasp. Teldin pushed his way to a porthole and waited fearfully for pursuit.

The deathspider angled upward, poised to follow. Its porthole eyes glared balefully at the gnomish tub, and the arching grappling arms swung slowly, as if blindly trying to grasp the fleeing prey. Teldin saw, in the ship itself, a look of pure, hateful evil.

The look was disrupted by a brilliant flare in the enemy ship’s bow. As Teldin watched, one of the great glass portholes exploded in a shower of smoke and flame, quickly followed by another. The vile ship shuddered and heaved, then rapidly fell away as the Unquenchable built up speed. Black clouds and bright flames poured from the enemy vessel. As the crater of Mount Nevermind receded with dizzying speed, the flaming neogi vessel nosed downward and plunged into the bowl. Too far away to hear any noise, Teldin’s view of the crash was quickly obscured by a billowing wave of white steam and gray smoke.

The gnomes watched the sight from their stations and let loose with a wild, enthusiastic cheer. Papers and charts flew as the bridge crew clapped and capered in celebration. Teldin, though, could only grip the porthole till his knuckles were white. “Good-bye, Gomja,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll see you in the void.” Teldin bitterly regretted every suspicion he had ever held against the big creature. The giffs sacrifice was another crime to lay at the neogis’ feet, though Teldin prayed that somehow, against all odds, the giff had survived the crash.