Days later, magic users and kings converged secretly on Irryan, the forest moon of Colurranur, to organize one last attempt to tvin back their worlds.
The sky above Irryan darkened, and they knew that all was lost-the Sh 'tarrgh were attacking.
Then they looked up and rejoiced, for the sky was filled with the triangular shapes of the spaakiil, circling silently, filling the survivors with awe at their graceful omnipresence.
The numbers of the spaakiil had dwindled under the ceaseless attacks of the Sh 'tarrgh; but they selflessly offered humanity one last chance to defeat the Sh 'tarrgh, one last chance for life.
The humans listened to the idea of the spaakiil, and rejected it. No one should sacrifice so much for others, but the spaakiil were insistent, and the threat of the Sb'tarrgh was overwhelming.
Word was soon sent throughout the sphere to all the mages on all the worlds. On the island of Terah, in the sea o fGelaan, the spaakiil and wizards from all the races of Ouiyan together wove their spells. The skies swirled with dark clouds and danced with lightning. On the other side of the planet, tornadoes cut swaths across the countryside, and strange lights played in the sky.
Then it was over. A thousand mages had come to Terah, but fewer than two hundred survived the stress of what they had done.
The spaakiil, the wild singers of the stars, were gone.
In the sky, blotting the sun, swam a single, impossibly large spaakiil.
No longer alive, as humans knew life, the first Spelljammer, Egrestarrian, swam above Colurranur, a gleaming, sprawling city spread out upon its back for the refugees of the original, forgotten Unhuman War-the people who would be known in later ages as the Lovokei, the Kutalla, the Broul, and thejuna. Egrestarrian sailed to every world of the One Sphere and took on all who wished to escape the Sh 'tarrgh.
Many stayed to fight, to defend their homes. Some were held prisoner by the Sh'tarrgh; others felt that escape was cowardly and simply wished to die.
The virginal ship sailed through wildspace and defended itself with its stinger, a powerful weapon of annihilation, while the humans built the first spacebome ballistae and catapults to destroy their evil enemies.
The armadas of the Sh 'tarrgh came together as the Spelljammer left the orbit of the innermost world, laden with the refugees and survivors of the unbuman wars. Sh'tarrgh battleships numbered six score and converged on the ship from all sides.
The Spelljammer was built to preserve life, and was not conceived as an offensive weapon. Its only defenses were naturaclass="underline" speed, maneuverability, and its magical nature. In the Sh'tarrgh Convergence-an attack that lasted only seconds-the people of the Spelljammer learned a valuable lesson: that to defend, even peaceable peoples need defensive weapons.
Against the combined might of the Sh'tarrgh, the Spelljammer was impotent. Its only hope-the only hope of thousands-was to escape, to explore.
Escape lay on the other side of the black, crystalline wall of the One Sphere.
The survivors knew nothing of what awaited them beyond the barrier. The Spelljammer knew only that escape was their only hope, and that the means to flee this sphere were inborn with the ship, a natural talent of the spaakiil, carried over to their legacy.
The people in the citadel waited, and Egrestarrian sang.
Its song reverberated off the sphere, and its simple beauty cast fear into the hearts of the demonic Sh'tarrgh.
Then, near Aeyenna, between the Spelljammer and the fleets of the Sh 'tarrgh, opened a portal.
The Spelljammer sang. The portal widened, and the great ship sailed to freedom through the gateway, into the endless, eternal Rainbow Ocean.
But no one had ever before been outside, into the phlogiston. No one knew that if the gateway were left open too wide for too long, the phlogiston would pour inside, into wildspace, and be sucked into the sun, there to explode.
The Spelljammer was only minutes outside Ouiyan when the crystal shell exploded. The ship screamed and wept at the same time as it felt the worlds, the peoples, of its birth die in an all-consuming blast that cracked the crystal sphere and sent black shards hurtling into the flow.
The phlogiston's destructive force sent the Spelljammer turniling helplessly. In seconds, the surfaces of the worlds were blown to black cinders, and the peoples, along with their deadly enemies, the Sh tarrgh, became memories, forever mourned by the Spelljammer.
For the Spelljammer was created to preserve life, not destroy it.
The Spelljammer wept in shame for centuries. The Spelljammer sailed on. Children were born, families were raised; old people died. The Spelljammer sailed on. Communities were built. New spheres were discovered. War was started, for one insignificant reason or another.
In time, the Spelljammer found purpose in the tragedy that had borne it.
Untold worlds awaited the Wanderer. The One Sphere was not the only sphere, as humanity soon learned. The Spelljammer sailed on to explore the spheres and their worlds, to discover, to learn; and left behind a sense of wonder, a sense of purpose, of the quest that pulled humanity out of the spheres to explore…
And the Spelljammer sailed on.
Egrestarrian, the Spelljammer, died.
Drestarin, the Spelljammer, was born.
The Spelljammer died.
Wrycanion, the Spelljammer, sailed on.
Finally, Creannon, the Spelljammer of the Cloakmaster, was bom, with all its precursors' memories-and guilt-intact. like the blinding instant when a sun is born, all this the Cloakmaster experienced in a moment that lasted for eternity.
Teldin, at one with the Spelljammer, knew that time at the Broken Sphere had become dangerously short. The ferocity of the unhumans was unstoppable, and he realized instinctively that only one thing could prevent the Spelljammer s own needless death and the conquest of evil throughout the spheres.
That one thing would destroy everything and everyone within range.
— Not again, Teldin said.
— Verenthestae, the ship responded. -The circles close once again. As one dies, one is born.
— There have been too many deaths already.
— Murderers embrace death, worship death. Are they not one with death, as we are one with life?
— Death can be cheated.
— Destiny cannot.
— But there may be choices…
— Destiny demands fulfillment. Murder demands atonement.
— There may be a way.
— Our destiny is clear.
— Why me? Teldin asked.
His universe was the amulet, glowing with white heat as it was when it was forged upon an anvil at the base of the Spelljammer 's captain's tower millennia ago. It blazed from within with the power of the three-pointed star, the idealized symbol that was to represent Ouiyan's long-lost sun. The points represented the powers that created the Spelljammer; the merging of the spaakiil, of humans, and of magic. Its light, its power, represented the eternal light of hope, of life.
Attached with a golden chain to the original ultimate helm, the cloak, together they formed a single, inseparable device: the helm created for the First Pilot to command the ship, the amulet to help guide the captain-and the Spelljammer-to their twin destinies.
Years later, they were separated, forced to wait for destiny to once again bring tbem together. Without the amulet, the Spelljammer was captained haphazardly by other captains with other helms-such was the nature of spell jamming. The true helm, the Ultimate Helm, the creators knew, eventually would find its way back to the true captain, perhaps many centuries after they had been forgotten. The cloak and the amulet would be joined again, and the Last Pilot would sail the Spelljammer to its ultimate fate.