For the Spelljammer knew that, with the challenger approaching, with change screaming for completion throughout its massive body, this voyage would be its last.
It glanced at the tombstone that was the black, broken sphere, and cried out one last time, a question answered only by the silence of the long-dead, and the Spelljammer slowly banked toward the approaching nautiloid. The man had come so far, yet had one last test to complete before the great ship would allow him to take its helm and lead it into its unknown future.
Their fate lay here, forever intertwined, where the Spelljammer had been born, where millions had died. The time was now. The cycles were coming back upon themselves, forces converging, blurring the reality between past and present, and turning, perhaps, violence into life.
The man's life song was strong and sang through his bones. The Spelljammer answered with the song of its own, and it knew that their songs must soon be sung together, forever.
For life.
— Are you worthy?'it sang.
It sped toward the challenger.
The ultimate test would now begin.
Chapter One
"… Newcomers to the Spelljammer are generally ignored, but for the interest of the populace. There is a noticeable difference, however, when newcomers approach bearing powerful helms. "From this we can surmise but two things: The ultimate helms borne to the Spelljammer are like no other, and somehow entice the Spelljammer into aggressive action; or that the Spelljammer, as impossible as it seems, is consciously aware that a new helmsman is approaching and wishes to dispatch him before his arrival, for reasons unknown…"
The Spelljammer was huge. Even now, at a distance of a few short miles away and closing, the legendary ship blotted out Teldin Moore's view of the void and filled his mind with a sense of unreality, of wonder beyond imagining, even beyond the dreams of the gods. The towers and turrets on the great ship's back gleamed dreamlike-nothing he had ever seen or imagined had prepared him for this sight-and he thought he could barely make out tiny black dots standing and moving along railings and in windows, pointing in the nautiloid's direction.
A welcoming party, he thought. He clasped his hand tightly around the hilt of his sword. Whether they welcome me with steel or with open arms, I'll be ready.
The Broken Sphere was an immeasurable black wall behind the shining spires of the Spelljammer. This close, no details were visible in the surface of the crystalline sphere. The great cracks and jagged holes in the sphere were tens of thousands of miles away, on the other side of the universe, as far as Teldin cared, and the Broken Sphere seemed like nothing more than a shimmering obsidian wall, stretching before him endlessly, reflecting only darkness.
Between the nautiloid and the sphere hung the Spelljammer.
He turned at gentle footsteps upon the deck of the Julia. Beside him, Djan Alantri, the half-elf from Crescent, stared toward the legendary vessel and pointed. The first mate's gray-blue eyes widened with surprise, and his thin blond hair exposed his slightly pointed ears as a gust of cool wind sprang unexpectedly from the bow.
Teldin looked to where Djan pointed. The shadow of the Spelljammer's immense tail was slowly shifting across the towers of the city, and Teldin gasped as he realized that the huge ship was beginning a wide turn away from the cracked globe of black crystal, toward the speeding nautiloid.
Toward them.
Unconsciously, his cloak billowed out at his unbidden surge of emotion, and he felt the Julia subtly change its course. He had discovered that he need not be seated at the ship's helm to control its course and speed, and that he could command the vessel without even being on board. But that even his uncontrolled emotions could cause the ship to veer surprised him greatly, especially since the human Corontea was already on the helm. He pulled his cloak around him and mentally straightened the ship's course so that its bow moved in a slow curve and pointed directly at the bow of the Spelljammer.
It was as though he could feel the flow of the phlogiston around him, as though he were at one with the universe as his gaze met the blank eyes of the Spelljammer. He shivered unconsciously as words rang through his mind. The words were slow and instinctive, blossoming in his mind, not as a voice, either definably male or female, but as raw thoughts and emotions, of half-dreamed images, yearning. It was a cry of need and loneliness, tremulously touching the core of his being and singing through his blood. He slowly formed the cry into barely adequate words.
— worthy…
"Are you worthy?" He said them out loud, slowly, testing the weight of each word.
He stared at the Spelljammer, his mouth agape. "You," he said softly. "That was you."
He laughed once, a bark of triumph, and his laughter was absorbed into the flow.
The Spelljammer was visibly closer. He imagined he could feel its breath as the ship headed toward him, diving into the flow, pushing a tidal wave of wind before it. The shining towers and buildings upon its great back seemed sharper, in clearer focus. Now he could make out a lone figure standing on a squat, round building in the foreground of the ship. It was only a speck, perhaps moving, perhaps gesturing in the Julia's direction.
— Are you worthy?
The words rang louder in his head as the Spelljammer seemed to come rushing toward him at once, like an unstoppable juggernaut. For an instant, Teldin cocked his head and stared at the monstrous ship. He grasped the rail of the deck and whispered, "Am I worthy?"
He knew, then, what the ancient Spelljammer was doing.
"Battle stations!" he screamed.
The ship came faster, blotting half of the Broken Sphere from his view. Now he could clearly make out the people standing along the railings of the ship's buildings, in windows; positioned among the buildings that somehow resembled sharp spears more than towers. He could imagine his broken, shattered body inside the Julia, as it hung impaled upon the Spelljammer's sharpest spire.
His eyes grew wide and he screamed out, "Evasive action!"
But the Spelljammer was deaf to his fears. His screams were meaningless, swallowed into the void. Djan shouted behind him, but he could not understand the half-elfs words.
The Cloakmaster backed away and stopped against the hatch leading into the depths of the nautiloid. He reached behind him, took hold of the latch, and stared as the Spelljammer loomed closer and closer like a giant, crashing wave.
There was nowhere to run. This fate he could not escape. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. The damned ship was too big, unstoppable; he knew that. The powers of his cloak were too limited, too — Are you worthy?
He shook his head unconsciously. No, he thought, I've come this far, and you're trying to kill me, too — Are you worthy?
The words were like thunder in his mind, and he shook his head, realizing exactly what had to be done. They could be saved. This quest was not futile.
They could survive.
Teldin stepped away from the hatch and shook himself out of his fear. "Yes," he whispered to himself. He stared down the great ship, at the towers, their sharp points gleaming fiercely in the fiery light. He shouted into its face, "Yes! Yes! I am worthy!"
Teldin yelled down into the Julia. "Corontea! Relinquish the helm!" and he braced his legs and stood firmly on the deck. He closed his eyes and reached out with his thoughts. His skin tingled instantly, raising the hairs along his arms and the back of his neck, and he felt the ancient powers of his mysterious cloak spread through him, infusing him with energy.
He felt it all billowing around him, the flow, the cloak, the untapped pulsations of arcane energies that wove through the cloak like veins. His skin glowed from within as he felt the icy hot powers of the cloak weave around him, a silent cyclone of energy rushing through his body.