Translator's notes: This tale exists in several forms, and on several worlds (including our own "real" world). Hall-ee-mor Dargess is renowned among bards for his ability to synthesize fragments of stories into a cohesive whole. He spent several months working over the various forms of this tale, and the resulting epic (presented here) is a marvel to hear. Sadly, I lack the literary ability of the renowned bard, and much of his wonderous poetry has been lost in the translation. I have concentrated on preserving the imagery of the tale, presented here in a prose format. Unlike most bard songs, this one is not meant to be sung, but recited, possibly with musical instruments in the background. Hall-ee-mor Dargess performs this tale in that manner. If you ever get a chance to hear him do a recital of this tale, you will never forget it.
The old man in tattered armor approached the festhall where a grand celebration was in progress. Three individuals, a Wizard, a Warrior, and a Lady Sage approached the hall to partake in the joy. The old man called to the Lady Sage.
"Hold," he said, and the Lady came to him. "I am a Spelljammer," he said, "who has travelled to more worlds than you can imagine. Please listen to me." The Warrior and the Wizard entered the festhall leaving their companion with the Spelljammer.
"Why detain me?" the Lady Sage asked. "I have never travelled off-world and never plan to do so. Speak to one who would relish your tale, and allow me to join my companions in celebration."
"Mine is a tale not to be relished, and not to be told to one of narrow mind. I can see wisdom in your eyes. Hear me," the Spelljammer insisted.
For an instant the Lady Sage was entranced by the look in the Spelljammer's eyes. They appeared to be as deep as space itself, yet sorrow and longing filled them as well. Inside the festfall, the sounds of celebration suddenly grew louder. Lady Sage hesitated for another moment.
"Tell me your tale," she whispered.
In a soft voice, the old man began to speak.
The vortex carried the ship far beyond they limits of the finest maps, to where the rainbow currents of the flow had grown thin and cold. They were trapped, unable to move more than an arm's length. Their death seemed imminent. From nowhere a dragon of radiant colors appeared and made a wide circle around the ship. The ship made a turn toward the dragon, and a current began to carry it forward! The crew rejoiced! The dragon had saved them from certain death. The current would certainly help them find a path to safety! Such was not the belief of the Spelljammer, who slew the dragon with a single balista bolt. One of the slain dragon's scales fell to the deck of the ship, and the corpse floated out of sight.
"Curse you Spelljammer!" cried the crew, "for slaying the radiant dragon! Such was a sign of good omen!" The cries continued as the ship moved slowly through the current. Gradually, the current grew stronger, and the ship moved faster. At that the curses ceased, for clearly the dragon was preventing the ship from reaching the flow current that would take it home.
"Hail to thee Spelljammer!" cried the crew, "for slaying the radiant dragon and setting us free!" The ship moved away quickly, and all appeared well. For days the ship travelled, but no familiar worlds did it find, and rest for the crew was possible. The space around them was larger than the sky, but nowhere was there a breath of air!
The lungs of the crew began to feel pain as the ship's air ran low. "This is the spirit of the dragon taking revenge!" cried a crew member. "Aye!" cried another, "we have been led to a death in deep space!"
"Curse you Spelljammer! This is your doing! Carry your guilt to the grave!" Again the crew turned on the Spelljammer. One crew member took a length of silk chord and fashioned a harness. With it, the scale from the slain dragon was slung around the neck of the Spelljammer, and with magic was it made stationary.
The ship continued to drift; no worlds on which to land were found. The crew grew week and sleep began to overtake them. Suddenly, in the distance, another ship was sighted.
From the aftcastle came: "Ship port astern!" "But how?!" the crew asked. "There is no current to move it! How can such a craft move?" A closer look revealed a ship in the shape of a Kraken, slowly approaching. It's color was white as death, for death itself was on board. Two figures, were poised on the main deck of the ghostly ship. One was a woman wearing tattered robes over a skeletal form, and two red lights for eyes. The other was a black specter, with no discernable form at all.
The crew became terrified, and begged the helmsman to carry them free, but the ship would not move. The ghost ship came along side, and the two figures threw dice to the floor below them. The specter regarded the dice and shrieked "The crew is MINE!" His shadow form enveloped both ships and the crew fell dead to the floor.
The Lich came to the Spelljammer, the only one left alive, with the dragon scale still around his neck. "And you," she hissed, "are mine."
At this the Lady Sage interrupted the tale: "Must you fill me with fear, Spelljammer!?" she cried. "Leave me in peace!"
"Endure," he said, "I implore you." After a moment's hesitation, he continued.
The Lich regarded the Spelljammer for a moment, then returned to her ship. The ghost ship vanished, leaving the Spelljammer alone with his tattered ship, and the bodies of his slain companions. He was alone in deep space. No one would ever find him, no one would ever hear him cry for help. In anguish he drew his sword and impaled himself upon it. Yet, the wound closed at once.
"Curse everything that lives!" he cried. "I despise you all! I can no longer live, and yet, I can not die! If some divine power can hear me, grant me death!" But no answer came to him. His agony would last forever, and rage was all he could feel.
After a long voyage, a world appeared. The tattered ship landed, and the Spelljammer walked among people who could not see him. They were happy people, who know about love, beauty, and grace. As he returned to the stars, memories of his former life began to stir, and the rage within him softened. Finally, a divine answered his plea. The dragon scale fell to the deck and dissolved into dust. The spell was broken; he was free again.
Sleep claimed the Spelljammer, and he was awakened by a soft, soothing breeze. For a moment, his spirit flew with the wind. He saw his tattered ship, the rainbow currents of the flow, and a hundred worlds in an instant. In a sudden frenzy of light, the ship was restored, and life returned to the crew. The Spelljammer is amazed and overjoyed, but confusion overtook him when he viewed the bodies of the crew. They were not restored as he had thought. Angels had inhabited the bodies, not the souls who once used them. A star appeared from behind a nearby planet, and the angels began to sing. The song was lovely beyond words, yet haunting and sad.
The ship entered the flow and moved without a current. It was a group of Demons that moved the ship! They wanted revenge for the death of the dragon, but the Angels would not allow them to achieve this as they would have wished. In frustration, the Demons allowed the Angels to sing.
Finally, the Angels agreed that the Spelljammer must perform penance, and that they would choose an appropriate manner. The Demons were satisfied with this, and departed. The Angels placed the Spelljammer in a trance, and the ship began to move faster than any ship ever had. A thousand Spheres passed by in a heartbeat. When it stopped, the Angels departed, and the Spelljammer's penance began. He looked about at his lifeless crew, and saw only space around him. His ship worked only for him now. No helmsman would ever be needed.
Still confused about his situation, the Spelljammer saw his home world before him. He feared that he is dreaming, and expected his world to vanish, but it remained. Quickly he moved the ship toward his home, and dreamed of the village he grew up in. "Never again will I fly through wildspace," he said to himself.
His flight was interrupted by a huge, black form. From the dark side of his home world came an enormous ship in the shape of a manta ray, with a long, back- curling tail like that of a scorpion. His ship stopped abruptly. Only in legends had he heard of a craft like this, legends he had never believed until know. Before him, between himself and his home world, stood the legendary Great Wanderer: The Spelljammer.
In the presence of the great ship, the tiny craft broke apart. The Spelljammer was spared from death by landing safely on the huge ship. From a small deck above one of the great ship's eyes he looked out at his home world and suddenly realized that he could never truly return home, that in fact he could never remain in one place, ever. He looked at the citadel on the great ship's back, and recalled the legends that described the craft as a sentient being, very powerful and very wise. He cried out:
"Great Wanderer, hear me! What is to become of me? Why has this happened to me?!" No answer came from the great ship.
"Please, help me!" he cried out again. A sudden awareness filled his mind, and a voice spoke to him.
"I hear your plea," it said quietly, "but your fate has been decided by one more powerful than I. I can not change it, but I can explain it, and make you understand."
His fate was sealed. Nothing could reverse it. After moments of agony, he finally asked "What must I do?"
"You must travel the spheres forever," the voice answered, "recanting your tale and teaching others love and reverence to all that holds beauty and grace."
He looked behind him, to see his ship restored, waiting for him. Slowly he boarded it, and turned toward his home world. He looked behind him to see the Spelljammer vanish into the vastness of space. He took his ship to his home world below, and began his eternal mission.
The Spelljammer took his leave of the Lady Sage, and vanished into the crowded street. She in turn entered the festhall, deep in thought. Sleep did not come to her that night. Early the next morning she spied a small ship ascending into the sky, to find another world, and another being to hear the tale.
"Fare well, Ancient Spelljammer," she whispered. She then returned to her companions, themselves still joyous from the previous night. Lady Sage however, was not joyous. She was sadder, but wiser.
