Estriss pointed with one blunt, purplish finger.
Look there. The rigging is perfect. Whoever built these is a remarkable craftsman. The markings, the decorations
–
the craftsmanship is incredibly delicate.
Inside each case was a scale model of a different ship: squidships, deathspiders, battle dolphins, illithid dreadnoughts, wasp ships, hammerships, elven man-o-wars and flitters, a gnomish sidewheeler, beholder tyrants, damselflies, dragonflies, Shou dragonships, viperships, scorpion ships, lampreys, deathglories, an elven armada, and more. Each case held a different scale model, the types of which stretched the known spheres, and not a few were completely unknown to Teldin and his allies.
Na’Shee shouted from far across the gallery. “Teldin, you better come here! I think you ought to see this!”
They hurried over to Na’Shee, where she stood above one rectangular case. Inside was a scale model of a nautiloid, gleaming in perfect condition.
“So?” Stardawn said.
“Read the name,” Na’Shee invited.
CassaRoc bent down to look, then he stood up abruptly and stared at Teldin. “What’s going on here?”
Estriss said,
What is it?
“The name painted on the bow,” Chaladar said, “says it’s the
Julia.”
“That’s our ship,” Djan said. “We crashed the nautiloid when we came on board.”
Who built these, Teldin?
Estriss asked.
Who could build these so perfectly, so fast?
Teldin shook his head slowly and indicated all the ships contained in the cases throughout the room. He gathered his breath, letting the information flow into him. “These are not models,” he said. “These are actual ships, all the ships that have ever reached the
Spelljammer
during its voyages across the universe. Thousands of them have been shrunk, rebuilt, if needed, and kept as memories. The ship did this.” He peered into the case at his own nautiloid. “I can feel the magical power as well. All the spelljamming helms are intact.”
CassaRoc said, “Can they ever be used again?”
Teldin looked at him curiously. “I don’t know,” he said.
The floor below was identical to the ones above it, containing cases of swords and daggers. “All magical, in one way or another,” Teldin told them. He examined one sword of ancient make, its blade gleaming in the gallery’s cold light. Mystic runes had been hammered into the steel below a crude design depicting a circle of standing stones. “Some of them are legendary.”
The gallery below held cases of axes and maces and war-hammers. Na’Shee lingered long, staring at a particularly handsome double-headed flail that gleamed inside its case. Teldin pulled her away. “Perhaps later,” he said as he led her to the stairs.
“How far down does this go?” Stardawn asked Teldin.
The Cloakmaster watched him. The elf seemed anxious, perhaps a little nervous. His hand kept straying to the hilt of his sword, and his eyes seemed to wander, warily keeping track of his surroundings.
“The lower floors hold weaponry and ammunition, enough to arm the entire population of the
Spelljammer.”
Teldin led them down the stairs to the next level. “Stones for the catapults, ballista bolts, replacement parts for the weapons, even smoke powder. The
Spelljammer
knows when these things are needed, and the armory will open below when the occasion arises.”
The light panels blinked on in the next gallery, and the company walked through, examining the cases of arrows and spears and crossbow bolts.
“Magical?” CassaRoc said.
Teldin nodded.
They proceeded to the level below. The light panels came on, and they stood silently, staring at the tall cases standing in long rows down the hall.
Djan gasped involuntarily. Na’Shee reached for the hilt of a sword.
“Are they alive?” Na’Shee asked Teldin.
He shook his head.
The cases seemed more like transparent coffins, for each contained the preserved bodies, both male and female, of examples of every race that had ever boarded the
Spelljammer.
Human, illithid, gnome, k’r’r’r, arcane, beholder, dracon
–
all who had traveled the Rainbow Ocean to find the
Spelljammer.
They found three cases that had been shattered. Jagged fragments of glass had sprayed across the floor, and the bodies that had been inside had sometime been removed by thieves
–
or rescuers
–
unknown.
The next staircase was long and winding, leading down into darkness. Teldin took the lead and finally brought the warriors to a great golden door at the base of the stairs, where a single light crystal in a golden sconce bloomed at their approach. He placed his hand upon it, and the door silently opened inward at the Cloakmaster’s touch.
The chamber was huge and appeared to be a vault of some kind with an immense, domed ceiling high above. The light inside was dim, a pale blue, and the hall was encircled by a narrow, angled ledge about three feet off the floor. The ledge was studded with brilliant diamonds, shining with their own inner, crystalline fires.
CassaRoc stroked his beard and stared at the jewels. “These jewels are worth a king’s ransom. Do you know what we could do with this wealth?”
“These are worth far more than ordinary gems,” Teldin said, reaching out to touch a blue diamond.
Instantly, above them, the domed vault was filled with the interior image of a crystal sphere. Planets swam in orbit around a miniature sun, and stars glittered around them like jewels, seemingly close enough to take in their hands and hold like fireflies. The planets glowed vibrantly with color, and the sun cast its yellow light upon their astonished, upturned faces.
“Every sphere the
Spelljammer
has ever visited is remembered here,” Teldin said reverently. His voice echoed solemnly through the room. “All the spheres, and more than you could imagine. Over two thousand of them, all watched over by the
Spelljammer
, their protector
—”
He stopped, scarcely believing his own words. But he knew they were true; he could see the words, the images in his mind. The sign of the amulet pounded warmly in his chest, a soothing reminder of his destiny and the truth of what he saw.
“The
Spelljammer
,” Teldin said. “It has been here almost since the beginning of time
–
not this
Spelljammer –
this is but the last of many. Its sentience holds the memories of the others, memories of its birth... and of the Broken Sphere.”
His friends watched him silently, unable to comprehend what he had told them.
Teldin thought for a moment. “I – I’m getting images, or messages, from the
Spelljammer.
It’s not telling me everything. I am seeing little pieces at a time.” He paused in thought. “The One Egg, the Broken Sphere, was an original sphere, a natural sphere far larger than those we know. Then it was destroyed – I can’t see it all yet – and the
Spelljammer
has tried to somehow replace it, I think, ever since. Or...
atone
for it.”
“The story is incredible,” Stardawn said. There was a hint of anger in his eyes. “Could this ship be that powerful?”
“Yes. It is more powerful, more primal, than we know.”
And who created the
Spelljammer
?
Estriss repeated.
The Juna?
“The Juna,” Teldin said, “yes, among many others. The
Spelljammer
was less created than... conceived.”
Teldin touched the diamond again, and the image of the sphere flickered away. He looked up, sadly, where the spherescape had been. “We must go below.”
The stairs leading to the next floor were in the center of the room, a wide, stone stairway that spiraled down into darkness and seemed, to them, to go far beyond the dimensions of the tower.
The
Spelljammer
is distorting our senses,
Estriss said.
This tower cannot be this tall.
“Or this wide,” said CassaRoc. “I noticed that as soon as we set foot in the first chamber. It is a magical illusion.”
“Perhaps,” Teldin said. “Perhaps.”
The group had just completed the first turn in the stairway when lights, hidden in the floors, came on, illuminating the domed ceiling and the stairway’s entrance above. At first, the companions thought they were surrounded by warriors, black silhouettes backlighted with pale lighting, then the entire staircase became illuminated, and the humans saw who they faced: a line of statues, spiraling down alongside the stairs. The base of each statue was embedded with a diamond.
The statue at the top was clearly the most ancient, pockmarked by age and coated in layers of gray dust. The figure was that of a man, square-jawed and stocky, bearing a long cloak and a circular amulet.
That’s your amulet, Teldin,
Estriss said.
“Yes,” Teldin acknowledged, looking closer. The pattern on the amulet was the same, as was the barely discernable pattern on the inside of the cloak, a pattern of three-pointed stars. “And that is the cloak I bear. You are looking upon the First Pilot, the first captain of the
Spelljammer
.”
“Who was he?” Djan asked. “What can you tell us?”
Teldin thought, then shook his head. “As I said, I don’t understand it all myself.”
CassaRoc said, “If this is the First Pilot, then all these statues must be —”
“— statues of all the
Spelljammer’s
captains,” Teldin said automatically. “And the diamonds
—”
“—
are memory crystals, like in the vault above,” Na’Shee said.
“Yes, displaying the life histories of the captains and their reigns aboard the
Spelljammer
.”
They continued down the Rotunda of the Captains. Teldin stopped once and pointed at the stairs. They were covered with dust, but thin, straight trails were visible, as though something had recently passed this way. “The seal,” Teldin said. “The droplets from the melted seal on the door outside. They came this way.”
They followed the thin trail past more than 150 statues, male and female, even one of a beholder. As the warriors made their descent, the statues appeared more recently constructed, less dusty. Teldin recognized the face of Romar, the captain who eventually became the Fool. Then, finally, they realized they were nearing the bottom of the stairs. The last statue was on the right, standing to the side of a huge door. Another, smaller spiral staircase led even farther down.
“Look,” Teldin said.
The metal droplets had traveled down the staircase and up the body of the last statue, to collect and transform into a shiny disk at the statue’s neck. The statue bore a long cloak and stood proudly among the others, the last in a long line of both heroes and rogues.
The statue was featureless, with only a blank template for a face, but Estriss saw immediately who the statue was to resemble. As he looked around, he realized the others did as well. Even Stardawn seemed moved, frozen as he stared at the raw, unformed stone.
Teldin stared at the statue. “I understand now. I know now why the
Spelljammer
has called me.” He turned to his friends. “I was once told of my destiny by a fal, and I did not believe it. But he was right, and that is why I am here.”
He took a breath and ran his hand up the statue’s cloak.
“This is me,” he said. “I am to be the next captain of the
Spelljammer
.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“... The creature was of the stuff that made up the shivaks, but was so fearsome in its aspect that I had but scarce time to examine it. This shivak was immense, a grotesque simulacrum of a beholder, guarding the throne of the legendary adytum against all usurpers. As soon as it spied me, it attacked....”
Jokarin the Bold, private log
“The captain?” Chaladar said, incredulous. “How long have you known this?”
“I tried to tell you in the library tower, when I experienced the orb inside the loculus, but the
Spelljammer
was attacked, and we rushed outside before I could finish.”
Estriss said,
It is no wonder that all the races want you dead, and the cloak for themselves. Tloe Ultimate Helm will grant any bearer the captaincy of the
Spelljammer.
“And the
Spelljammer
would become the ultimate weapon of destruction,” Chaladar reasoned. “Chaos would spread across the spheres like a plague.”
“I don’t know about that,” Teldin said. “The Fool was once the captain, and he was rejected for his actions against life and peace.”
“That may be true,” Djan interjected, “but the ones who want the
Spelljammer
have probably never been aboard. They probably know nothing of the
Spelljammer’s
sentience. Even the populace knows nothing of it.”
Stardawn was silent throughout the discussion, frozen with anger. He knew all he needed now. He had known for a long time, since he had bought his information from the mad arcane, that a magical item was the key to becoming the
Spelljammer’s
captain. But the item now was Teldin’s cloak, and he would let Teldin lead him to the
adytum
, where he then would take the cloak for himself, and take the captaincy with it.
Teldin turned away from the discussion and opened a great door. A narrow set of ten stairs led down from the Armory to the roof of the Dark Tower. He started down, then waited below for the rest of the party to file out.
Teldin took the group across the roof of the Dark Tower to stand in the shadow of the
Spelljammer’s
mammoth tail. The ship’s body was laid out before them as though they were its lords. From here they could see bodies on the decks, the rubble caused by barrages from above. Screams and angry cries came from below, and they heard the twang of coiled springs as ballistae were fired at the vessels in the flow around the ship.
The Cloakmaster reached out and ran his hand along the tail’s broad, purplish surface, searching. His hand found a point at eye level, then Teldin stepped back and motioned for the others to follow. He pointed to a mottled area on the side of the tail. “There,” he said, and he stood facing the tail, his arms outstretched.