The Ultimate Helm

Chapter Twenty-One

Atop the neogi tower, two warriors hammered the tip of a broadsword into the roof. In the light breeze created by the Spelljammer's movement through the flow, the makeshift flag that had been tied to the sword was a proud symbol of the humans' victory over evil. The outline of the Spelljammer had been drawn in purple paint on a white sheet, and was centered with a crude representation of Teldin's amulet. The designs were surrounded by stars, shooting from the amulet like shurikens of energy.

When their enemies had been routed, Teldin ordered the Unhuman survivors to be chained and held in the prisoner's area, and the overflow in the pit of the great old master, surrounded by armed guards. With shovels and with their bare hands, the prisoners disposed of the master's corpse and those of its bludgeoned offspring, then were held deep within the pit for their eventual dispensation.

There was only a single neogi survivor-, the others had been killed, if not by the Beholders Alliance, then in the surprise attack by the humans. About half of the minotaurs were dead, and two of the ogres had been killed defending the tower. The other unhumans had somehow escaped, fearful of the humans' far superior numbers.

A thorough search was made of the tower, and then it was gone over a second time. The rooms of the neogi were found deserted or strewn with neogi corpses, and no other escape tunnels were apparent.

During the second search, a guard called Teldin back to Coh's quarters. He lifted a shining shirt of chain mail and a dagger, which he had discovered in a corner. Teldin recognized them as CassaRoc entered the room. The Cloakmaster took them and tucked them in his belt. "She is without protection," he said angrily. "Coh has her, and she can't even defend herself." He lashed out and kicked a piece of ornamental statuary. The grotesque sculpture bounced off the wall and crashed into pieces on the floor.

"Coh is hiding somewhere in the warrens. You're right: he and the damned Fool are in this together somehow. And we don't even know how to get down there."

"Well, at least we've got the tower secured now," CassaRoc said. "You know, there might be someone who can help us out with this."

"Who?"

"Well, I've heard that some of our more adventurous halfling friends have ventured into the warrens. And then there's your mind flayer friend. He knows more about this ship than most. We could call for him."

"You won't have to." Na'Shee was at the door. Both Teldin and CassaRoc turned as she entered. "Estriss is here, asking to see you immediately. He almost got killed by our guards. They thought he was attacking them."

Teldin nodded. "Send him in immediately."

Djan came in a moment later, followed by the illithid. Estriss bore a heavy cloak, and a broadsword hung from his belt. Mind flayers usually disdained such human affectations as weapons, but Estriss had learned the ways of humans well, and those he could not fend off with his mental powers could be battled with steel. The mind flayer greeted Teldin and CassaRoc, then sat in one of the chairs that they had brought in to Master Coh's quarters.

There is a problem, Estriss said, of which we must speak.

Teldin brought another chair around. "Go ahead."

The illithids are preparing for something of which I want no part. I managed to escape the horned tower just before the attack was to begin.

"Attack?" Teldin interrupted. "What attack?"

The mind flayers and their goblin allies are attacking the elves as we speak, Estriss said. They have long hated the elves, and have long desired more power here on the Spelljammer. They have decided that the time to strike is now.

"So has every other race on board," CassaRoc said.

Indeed. The mind flayer leaned forward. There could be trouble very soon, Estriss said. His facial tentacles twitched. That is the main reason I came over. I would have come sooner, but I could not escape the illithid tower without their notice.

They are plotting to assassinate you, Teldin.

"How?"

I do not know. The general population was not privy to Tre-bek'splans.

"When?"

Again, I do not know, but Trebek wants you and the elves dead. That way A cry came from inside the tower. The men stood as Na'Shee came to the doorway. "It's the mind flayers and the elves. They've started fighting, too."

CassaRoc said, "Alert our men. Have them stand ready."

"For anything," Teldin added.

Na'Shee nodded once, then turned as the shouting increased in the hallway. They all heard the distant sound of metal clashing with metal.

"The war is escalating rapidly, Estriss," the Cloakmaster said. "We have trouble enough on the Spelljammer alone, and there is a score of ships closing on us from the flow. I need answers now."

What can I do? the illithid asked.

"Cwelanas is being held in the warrens by Master Coh and, I think, the Fool. I need to know how to get down there and rescue her."

Estriss shook his head slowly. His opaque eyes seemed j moist, thoughtful. / do not think I can help you, Cloakmaster. J My research has uncovered mentions of the warrens on the j Spelljammer, but I have not run across locations for entrances.

I would guess that some have been sealed in the towers, for fear of what lurks there.

"There must be at least one open entrance," Teldin said, frustrated. "Coh had to find one somewhere."

Then Teldin spun around, his eyes wide. "What?"

CassaRoc looked at him, questioningly. "Cloakmaster? Are you all right?"

"I heard-" Teldin started. "I thought I heard-"

Then it came again, a whisper in his ears like the crashing of waves.

Only you can hear me, the voice of Gaye Goldring said softly to Teldin. / am weak and have little time to speak.

"Gaye. It's Gaye," Teldin said. "She's speaking to me."

Teldin, you are in more danger than you know. The Fool desires your cloak and your death. His goals are mad, and he wants the Spelljammer, only so he can take it to its death. He will do anything to achieve his goals. Even now he has Cwe-lanas.

"Cwelanas?" he said. "How?"

Coh is taking her to the Fool. The stakes have been raised.

He stood in wonderment at Gaye's seemingly magical abilities to discover hidden knowledge, to help protect him. "Gaye, how are you doing this? Where did you get these powers?"

She was silent for a moment, then an image sprang into his mind, of a sunlit day in Herdspace. Here, she said.

His head jerked back as his mind was washed with a series of images: of Gaye staying behind as Teldin sailed away from Herdspace; of fal One Six Nine accepting her as his student, and her beginning as a psionicist. He saw her first failed experiments in the psionic arts, then watched her steadily progress into a master psionicist. He saw the first time she used her clairvoyant abilities, and as she discovered that Teldin had finally reached the Spelljammer. And would need her help.

He saw this all in a single instant.

It took him a few seconds to interpret her message. Her voice grew weaker. / must go now. Answer the call, Teldin. Do not delay.

He blinked and called out to her, "You can't go! How do I get down into the warrens? How do you know-"

Her voice was a whisper, fading away like her form. He made out one word as her voice trailed away: library.

He stood silently, surrounded by his warriors.

"You were talking to your friend Gaye?" CassaRoc asked.

"Yes." Teldin stared away for a moment, then turned to look Estriss and CassaRoc in the eyes. "Something is calling me, though it may not be the adytum of which Estriss has told us. Gaye mentioned it just now, as you did earlier, CassaRoc. And if I've learned anything on this quest, it is to follow my hunches and trust in fate."

Teldin looked at Na'Shee. "Perhaps you should come, too. I think we'll need all the help we can get."

"Where are we going?" Na'Shee said.

"The library," Teldin said.

In the eternal darkness that was the warrens, Cwelanas struggled against the behemoth that clasped her tightly within its massive arms.

They had taken her dagger and her mail back in the neogi tower, and now Cwelanas was helpless against the walking horrors that held her captive.

The neogi was huge, the largest she had ever seen. Master Coh was resplendent to his race, tattooed and painted in a spectrum of colors that covered his body. On his forehead was his trademark, a symbol made of interlocked circles that signified his name, his status, and was the brand on his slaves.

The umber hulk that held Cwelanas wore Coh's brand on his forehead as well. Orik was proud to be Master Coh's personal slave, even going so far as to try to learn the Common tongue to please his master. His attempts were barely successful, sounding more like the guttural grunts of apes, but he frequently managed to make relatively clear sentences.

"Silent be!" Orik commanded her. He would have said "Be quiet," but he always had trouble with the "Q" sound, and long ago he had given up even trying to sound it out.

Master Coh was a neogi with an inborn magical talent. In the lead, he concentrated steadily, finding their path using his magical senses to blaze a trail through the darkness. His sharp claws clacked against the floor as they made their way deeper into the warrens, toward his ally, the Fool.

Here, he knew he would receive asylum. Here, the ransom for the meat would be made and the Cloak of the First Pilot would be his. His friend, the Fool, would, of course, choose him. Did not the next one have to be a magician such as he? Would not the Fool reward him for bringing victory to the neogi?

He laughed to himself. The elf would be his key to succession.

He led them down a narrow tunnel, then into another, even tighter and darker. Orik had to crouch as he walked through the tunnel, dragging Cwelanas behind him.

The air grew colder, and the walls around them gradually opened into a chamber, swirling with a black mist that reeked of something rotten. Coh grinned. Venom dripped off his long fangs. He could feel the Fool's dark presence in the chamber around them.

A blue glow appeared. Coh blinked at the light, forming at the end of the Fool's wand of conjuration, then he grinned. The light blossomed, and the shrouded form of the Fool appeared. His piercing eyes watched Coh, almost burning into his brain.

"Fool," Coh said, "it is I, Coh, master of the neogi."

"Yes," said the Fool.

"Fool, I have a hostage. With this meat, my claim to the Spelljammer will be assured, if only you will-"

The blue light suddenly burst from the Fool's wand and flared out, encircling Orik's neck like a living thing, a twisting rope of glowing ectoplasm. The umber hulk's head erupted with an azure glow, and he reached up to grab his head.

Cwelanas fell heavily to the floor, scrabbled away, and huddled in a corner. Orik clawed at his face as the blue light quickly spread to engulf his body. He screamed once and spun in pain, searching for the master he knew would protect him. "Maaaa-ster…"

Coh turned his narrowed eyes toward the Fool. "What have you done? Are we not allies? Have I not-"

The Fool reached within his cloak of blackness and pulled a broadsword from an ancient, jeweled scabbard. Its sharp blade was serrated wickedly, and the metal was dark, pockmarked with age and corruption. The Fool whispered a single word that seemed to vibrate within the walls of its lair.

With a low chuckle, he flipped the sword effortlessly into the air. At once, the blade came alive, twisted in midair, and aimed its black point at the heart of Master Coh.

Coh backed away, raising his claws in defense. But the blade sliced through them effortlessly and sank deep into his chest, drinking deeply the life force from his black heart.

The neogi collapsed to the floor, side by side with the charred corpse of his faithful servant.

The Fool gestured with a bony hand. One claw of Master Coh's twitched.

Cwelanas watched in terror as the Fool turned and came toward her, focusing his white-hot eyes at her and rasping low in his throat.

The Fool smiled.

In a connecting tunnel, protected in a tightly woven spell of invisibility, the neogi mage B'Laath'a watched as the blood seeped from Coh's mortal wound and as the master's limbs twitched in undead response to the Fool's spell.

His eyes gleamed with hatred. He had never trusted Coh, but had simply needed the master's resources to keep Cwelanas enslaved and close to the humans.

It was the Cloakmaster B'Laath'a had wanted, ever since his deathspiders had traced the ancient cloak to the reigar craft on Krynn so long ago. The plan had been his, and the cloak would soon have been his, if Coh had not lusted after its power himself.

Now undead master is, B'Laath'a thought. Plans now effect put into must I. Mine cloak will be! Traced to Krynn, did I, and cloak only mine will be!

Surrounded by his shield of invisibility, B'Laath'a backed softly away up the tunnel, toward the light.