Teldin was an angry, elemental force against his unnatural enemies. He realized he had finally taken enough from this foe that he had never seen, and he attacked the Fool's undead with a short sword in each hand, whirling through their ranks, slicing indiscriminately with all his might. Black blood spattered his armor, his legs, but his cloak remained unstained. A head dangled from dead flesh on his right; on his left, a zombie dropped with a clean, powerful cut through its collarbone and heart. Teldin's hair was sticky with sweat and blood, and his eyes blazed with rage, framed by his taut, blood-spattered face.
He felt the power of the cloak blazing through him, pulsating through his veins with unheard of energy. His blades were silver arcs whistling through the air. His foes fell back, defenseless, maimed by the speed and strength of his swords. The cloak, useless against the nature of the undead, still filled Teldin with power, enhancing and amplifying his own strength and will.
The Cloakmaster's final foe plopped to the floor, sliced in two at the waist. Teldin stopped, panting, and felt the powers of the cloak flow out of him. The remains of the undead were all around him, and he stood in a putrid sea of their corrupt, oily blood.
His friends stared at him in shock. The warriors then cleaned their blades, and Teldin took a deep breath, relaxing. CassaRoc cast a wary glance at him. "We thought you went berserk," he finally said.
Teldin shook his head. "No, the cloak was… giving me energy."
He raised his sword and pointed into the black mist that surrounded them. "That way," he said. "Coh went through there."
"It's probably just another trap," Djan warned.
"Of course it's a trap," Teldin said. "What do you expect? He's trying to lead us to the Fool."
Stardawn said, "You plan to walk right into it?"
Teldin grinned and wiped his sword on the body of a zombie. He stood at the threshold of darkness, then stepped through. Reluctantly, the others followed.
In the dim light, framed by his blood-stained features, Teldin's smile was that of a hungry shark. "We're going to get him right where he wants us."
"You are right where I want you," came a mocking voice from beyond. The darkness swirled away and dissipated, as though it had been absorbed back into its source, and the full size of the new chamber was revealed.
They were in the lair of the Fool.
Tunnels branched off from each side, and the roof of the cavern was lost in the shadows. The chamber was a natural formation, almost organic, diseased with tumors of black fungi and the stench of the dead.
The undead Coh greeted them. His eyes were blazing pinpricks of light. He smiled, beckoning with his black claws, and Teldin lunged and drove his sword straight into Coh's mocking face. The undead neogi collapsed to the floor, spurting gouts of foul blood.
Laughter erupted from the far wall of the dimly lit chamber. Behind gauzy draperies of spiderwebs, the Fool waited for them, perched upon his throne of bones. Cwelanas kneeled before him, his skeletal hand tight on a heavy chain shackled to her slim neck.
" Welcome, Cloakmaster," the Fool said. His voice sent shivers down Teldin's back. It was a death rattle, a breath from the grave.
The Fool stood, jerking Cwelanas's chain tight. The iron shackle dug deep into her throat as she struggled to retain her balance. The Fool slid his black long sword from its ancient scabbard and rested its sharp point against the back of Cwelanas's neck. He slung the heavy chain across her shoulders, and she cried out as the iron links pounded her vulnerable skin. With the other hand the Fool idly toyed with his scarlet amulet.
Teldin's friends arranged themselves around him protectively and faced the dais. Teldin nodded at Cwelanas, questioning with his eyes. "I'm all right," she said.
"Silencel" the Fool yelled with a hiss. The point of his blade drew a drop of blood from her flesh. The sword, tensing for more, for the blood and the life force of the elf, hummed in the Fool's hand.
"The deathblade hungers," the Fool said to Teldin. He laughed. "It has far less patience than I. It yearns to drink deeply of your lovely friend's soul. Shall I let it, Teldin Cloakmaster? Shall I drive my blade deep into her heart, so that my thirsty steel may drink?"
Teldin took a step forward. "If you harm her-" he started, but the Fool interrupted him.
" What will you do, Cloakmaster?" the Fool asked. "What do you think you really can do? You know nothing of my powers. You are but a whelp, a dispensable pawn who chanced on an instrument of power. Your meager determination brought you here, human, simply to see everyone you've ever loved die.
"Is that what you want, Cloakma-"
The Fool stopped suddenly as a glimmer of golden light appeared at Teldin's shoulder. It flickered like a flame, growing into a ball of light that coalesced into the astral form of Gaye Goldring. Her robes flowed about her, glowing with her own psionic energies. She spied the Fool upon his dais and quickly positioned her hands into a defensive posture.
"Ah, my little kender friend," the Fool mocked, "back for your final punishment? I am no shade or banshee to dispel with light, kender. You are nothing more than an insect to me. I will see you die today."
The Fool turned to Teldin.
"Understand this, human. The elf s blood will be spilled, O great Cloakmaster, unless you are prepared to bargain…"
"Bargain." It was Teldin's turn to laugh. "You don't want to bargain, Fool," he said. "You want only to kill."
The Spelljammer, Teldin, Gaye said. His goal is to destroy the Spelljammer and everyone aboard, for revenge of when he was captain.
"Captain?" said Chaladar.
The Fool glowered at them in contempt.
"I know you better than you realize," Teldin said. You're everything I ever fought against. You're everything I've ever hated: arrogance, hatred, war, murder, corruption, death.
"Look around. Do you know what this chamber was?"
The Fool seemed to shrink in upon himself. The warriors turned to observe their surroundings.
"This is the heart, Fool. This is the heart of the Spelljammer, and it is your evil that has corrupted it."
Teldin's friends stood there awestruck, deep within the body of the Spelljammer itself, the great ship's very heart.
"It is a living thing, more powerful and important than you will ever be!" Teldin shouted. "It is far more than a vessel or a city. It is a myth come to life."
The Fool bowed slightly. "If that is all you know, then, Cloakmaster, you know nothing."
"Nothing," Teldin said. "That's all you are, Fool, nothing. You've got all these empty powers, and all you want is to see your obsession come true. 'Death to the Spelljammer.' All because you lacked the discipline to be a worthy captain… or a worthy man."
The Fool flinched in anger. He was not used to humans talking back to him. "The Spelljammer deserves to die after what it did to me!" he shouted. "I was the captain, the best captain. I dared to use the Spelljammer to rule the spheres, and it committed mutiny to destroy me, to imprison me in the Dark Tower with the others. I had other plans."
The Fool's grip tightened on his ruby amulet. "I carefully made.. arrangements for my escape. Plans for my revenge. And your damned cloak is destined to be the instrument of the Spelljammer's death!"
"Can you think of nothing else?" Teldin challenged. "Did you sell your mind as well as your soul? You have the ship's population tricked into thinking you're an all powerful wizard, or a foul demigod, who secretly rules the Spelljammer." Teldin raised his arms and gestured. "Look around you. You are surrounded by nothingness, darkness, emptiness. You are a ruler of nothing but the dead. You're nothing but a zombie yourself."