Teldin moved his arm. The ship banked to port and turned to stare down the approaching hammerships.
He took a deep breath and felt the energy well up in him, around him, through him, pulsing with a heartbeat of thunder and fire.
He shivered as the energy traveled hot up his spine.
High above the decks of the Spelljammer, its great tail tensed, quivering imperceptibly to the humans below. It glowed white hot for an instant, then a flaming bubble of incredible energy shot out of its tip and absorbed the hammerships.
The explosion took out seven other ships that had been stupid enough to stray near the attack. First there was blinding white light that blotted everything from view, then the fires of the Spelljammer's annihilation weapon spread throughout the phlogiston, which instantly erupted for a radius of more than two thousand feet. The Spelljammer rocked as the flow exploded in its path. Parts of vessels-a splintered mast, half of a light ballista, brass fittings-shot through the Spelljammer's air envelope to embed deeply in tower walls.
The Spelljammer made a sudden turn to starboard, faster than anyone had expected the great ship could ever make. The Cloakmaster focused all his enhanced senses on the remaining squadron of ships in his path, the neogi deathspiders.
He thought of Cwelanas, whom he knew was racing for the safety of her smalljammer. He thought of the tattoo with which the neogi B'Laath'a had branded her. He thought of the simple words that had drawn him from his home so long ago.
Keep it from the neogi. Take it to the creators.
The neogi deathspiders were closing. The neogi.
He felt the energy tingling up his spine.
Cwelanas, he thought.
Energy flared from the Spelljammer's tail in a comet of raw white power. The sphere hurtled down at the onrushing deathspiders and exploded in a nova that created a new, temporary sun in the flow.
The deathspiders exploded, burned, and melted in the coldness of the flow, and what was left was but charred dust, molecules of waste that had once been evil, breathing neogi and their weapons of senseless destruction.
The Spelljammer sailed through the fine debris of the neogi squadron and twisted deliberately to point toward the Broken Sphere.
Around the vessel, the remaining fleets watched, turned, prepared for one final assault against the legendary ship.
The Cloakmaster smiled grimly.
The Spelljammer sang.
As one, the Spelljammer and the fleets behind it headed for the Broken Sphere.
Chapter Thirty-Three
"… What is this reality, Ibis existence, that we ourselves have not made?…"
The warriors made it to the bottom floor of the Armory without encountering the senseless shivaks. "Why aren't they stopping us?" CassaRoc asked as they hurried through an immense warehouse of weapons and supplies.
"I don't know," Cwelanas said. "Either Teldin has ordered them to let us pass, or it's because I now bear an ultimate helm."
The doors swung inward upon their approach, and they blinked at the bright light of the phlogiston. CassaRoc hefted Stardawn's body and tossed it unceremoniously under the battlements behind the Old Elvish Academy. "There." He wiped his hands on his chest. "On this side, we're closer to the garden doors to port," CassaRoc said. "We ought to cut between the Shou tower and the dwarven citadel."
Cwelanas nodded. The Spelljammer shifted then, and they watched as the ship sped deliberately toward a mass of enemy fleets.
"What's going to happen?" Djan asked.
Cwelanas stared at him and shook her head sadly. Estriss answered him, knowingly. Teldin is giving us a chance to live… and I believe he will try to make this as even a battle as he can.
The enemy ships appeared considerably closer, more formidable. "Bah," CassaRoc said. "He will destroy himself and the Spelljammer, just like I said before."
"No," Cwelanas said, "it's more than that. Teldin…" She stared off, as though her helm were letting her see visions of a future to come. "Believe me, he will be fine."
They looked at her strangely, then CassaRoc said, "I suppose we have to trust you, too."
She smiled. "Yes, I guess you do."
They broke into a run, Na'Shee taking the rear, and started past the Shou tower toward the entrance to the gardens, where the Cloakmaster had told them the smalljammer waited. The Spelljammer's port wing was relatively clear of fighting; most of the battles were being fought in towers, by the communities protecting the ship from the oncoming enemies.
The gardens were located in a cavernous chamber beneath the city. In reality, the chamber was an immense hangar, with huge, louvered doors located on each side, behind the Spelljammer's massive gills. The doors were barely open, and closing even more, when the party arrived. The warriors lowered themselves to the deck and crawled underneath the port door. "The Dark Times have come," Cwelanas told them. "It was not just a legend. The Bonding brings with it a time of birth, the Dark Times, when the gardens must be closed to nurture the smalljammers…"
She trailed off, unable to take in the immensity of the gardens. The landscape stretched off into fields of grain, into seeming forests of jamberry trees and other plants cultivated from across the spheres. The ceiling of the gardens stood about 150 feet above her head and was lined by countless light panels that provided cycles of both day and night to the crops and plants that made up the ship's primary food supply.
"Where?" Cwelanas wondered.
Chaladar pointed beyond a vegetable garden to the circular forest of jamberry trees. "Teldin is smart. I would bet that he hid the smalljammer there, in order to keep it hidden from view."
Cwelanas plunged into the wood. The ground was littered with leaves and fallen jamberries, and she rushed between the trees to discover a dirt path that rounded through the wood.
On the far side of the path, at the edge of a grove encircled by the path, she stopped. The others gathered around her.
The smalljammer gleamed in the light, untouched and fresh, like a newborn child. Like the Spelljammer, the smalljammer was manta-shaped and made of a chitinous substance that was shaded from light blue to light purple. On its back was an organically constructed cabin comprising two decks and a jewellike observation deck on top. Its eyes were windows to the control cabin, and its tail, identical to that of its parent, hung over its body. Its wingspan stretched more than 140 feet, and the ship sat silently, serenely, waiting for the gentle touch of its first pilot.
Cwelanas carefully swung up onto a wing and entered the cabin through the open door on the wing deck. Most of the inside deck was open space, more than enough for a fair amount of cargo or passengers. The innermost cabins were unfurnished rooms, ready to be made habitable. The bulbous forward cabin contained only a seat for the ship's captain. Hatchways from there led to the upper deck and the roof. The upper deck contained several more personal cabins, the galley, and a storage room.
Cwelanas ran her hand down the side of the chair, then she sat slowly, stiffly in the throne. For a moment, the palms of her hands grew hot as energy seemingly transferred from the ship into her, then back again. She shivered, as though a breath had been blown on the back of her neck. She felt strong, refreshed, and even the throne seemed softer.
Estriss hissed calmly, an expression of contentment. You are now the ship's captain, the mind flayer said.
Cwelanas sat blinking, astonished. The throne had changed shape, conforming to her size and posture. No chair had ever felt so comfortable. "The captain… me. I'm the new-"