Hearthspace crystal shell
Commodore Plenxon's hummerfly
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
The hummerfly moved off, then its fine senses reached into the crystal shell to locate the place its user had named.
The insect's strange vision saw the planet Clystin and its moon Clyperri even though they were hundreds of millions of miles from 854. It then spotted Quatha Vellar, the shipyard orbiting the ice moon. The hummerfly's incredible eyesight literally zoomed in on the shipyard, and the Lady Mayor's Palace, and it teleported itself there.
It saw an aarakocra. It made no move, understanding that this was the correct type of being for this place. It did not know the proper racial name, of course, but it had been to Quatha before.
The aarakocra picked up the hummerfly. Had the hummerfly been a creature of intelligence, it would have noticed a surprised expression on the birdman's face.
He listened to its destination order and sent for Lady Kreeahlka. Over the next few minutes, his surprised look failed to diminish while he waited for her, for more hummerflies appeared.
"Fifth one in ten minutes," the guard murmured to the great lady aarakocra when she arrived, "but this is the first."
Kreeahlka stroked the hummerfly to hear its message.
"To Lady Mayor Kreeahlka of Quatha Vellar, from Commodore Arcle Plenxon of Itreyan Gateway 854..."
Quatha Vellar Shipyard
Elnamerrna
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Kiran started at the sound of an odd voice coming from the voice horn in the library.
"All hands, stand to battle stations," Reamie's voice came forth. "This is not a drill. First Officer to the bridge, emergency, all hands battle stations."
The paladin closed his book and shelved it, then ran out of the library.
He ran into the bridge and confronted Reamie. Dremley and Haroley also stood there, standing guard, with Faprol sitting at the table as the on-watch helmsman. The swashbucklers had signed on under the buddy system, so Kiran scheduled them to stand post together whenever possible. For them to be in command was a special case, though.
Most of the command crew had left the ship for research and it was not Kiran's watch, so he had put the three swashbucklers on the bridge. Tyfelian and Kiran's shipboard rules stated that the bridge had to be manned at all times unless the ship was to be put in the deadbox, no other exceptions.
"What's the emergency?"
"Crow's nest reports a flash message from the yardmaster. Lady Kreeahlka has received a large number of hummerfly messages from the Shell Gateways. They say they're under attack... by dragons," the swashbuckler reported fearfully. "Kreeahlka has asked all ships in flying order to prepare for battle."
"Relieving you," he said as he rushed to the command platform. "Faprol, take the helm." The paladin clicked the voice horn to Shipwide. "All wizards to the bridge."
He walked to the portside door and opened it to question the guards outside.
"Where's Tyfelian? The library here on the shipyard?"
"Yes," replied a guard.
Alzja walked up to him then, but he raised a hand to stay her from entering the bridge.
"Alzja, teleport to the Quatha library and bring Tyfelian back with you."
Alzja looked surprised, but she obeyed, disappearing a moment later with the soft pop of teleport.
She reappeared just a minute later, with Tyfelian in tow.
"What is it, Kiran?"
The seven wizards were sent out only moments after Kiran had brought Tyfelian up to date. Uneasily remembering an incident not so long back when he had done the same thing in a different way, he ordered the lot of them to cast divination spells to locate the crew, then to teleport to them and bring them back.
"I hate recalling the crew like this," Tyfelian said to Kiran as yet another wizard reappeared with another crewman, "but we need them at their stations—right now."
Kiran touched Tyfelian's shoulder reassuringly, meaning that he felt the same way but he understood that it could not be helped.
Tyfelian let himself bask in the paladin's aura—in Kiran's case, it was part charisma, part holy power—and indeed, he did feel reassured. He looked at his friend, and though he did not smile, his eyes did.
"Kiran, I think we should find out what's going on out there. Have Lygalliz flash a message to the yardmaster, to relay to Lady Kreeahlka. Ask her which Gateway out there reported the attack first. Trust me on this—there's a reason I want to know that," Tyfelian added as the Dridercomp helped him with the intuition.
The query took interminable minutes to be relayed to the Lady Mayor's palace, even by military personnel on high alert, but finally Lygalliz called down his results.
"Kiran, I have an answer for you. Lady Kreeahlka's people report it was Gateway 854, under Commodore Arcle Plenxon."
"Thank you," the first officer replied, clicking off the voice horn.
"Helm, get ready to launch as soon as everyone is back," Tyfelian said to Faprol. He cringed slightly, remembering again a very similar situation at Nauthe'hressishtel. He felt troubled and afraid, and his heart felt like it was trapped in a time loop, endlessly repeating variations on the cycle of a firm stand followed by great loss.
"Not this time," he snarled very softly, so quietly that only Kiran heard anything.
"Hm?"
"Nothing," Tyfelian replied evenly. He stared at the outeye, waiting impatiently for his crew to reassemble.
Krendren appeared with Jalaysa at his side—teleported from faraway Erilonia.
"That's all of them, Kiran," she reported.
"All personnel now aboard, Tyfelian," Kiran told the half-drow.
Tyfelian clicked the voice horn.
"Crow's nest, bridge."
"Crow's nest, Lygalliz."
"Flash another message to the yardmaster. Request clearance to depart, to assist Gateway 854."
Hearthspace, near the crystal shell wall
Itreyan Gateway 854
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Plenxon watched, horrified, as the defense umbrella collapsed and his hammerships turned tail and fled the dragon onslaught.
Horrified, certainly, but not very surprised, he kept his wits and ran to the boarding plank at the Kalamarsa's pier.
"Launch!" he shouted the moment his boots hit the deck. He nearly panicked, however, as not one but five big dragons fluttered down around the Kalamarsa.
The puzzling absence of dragonfear made it possible for Plenxon to be angry. Definitely infuriated, he began to shout attack orders, but only "All hands! Att-" escaped his mouth before a huge tail belted him in the chops and knocked him out.
Below, on the lower deck, the captain of the Kalamarsa, a bugbear, gripped the spelljamming helm as the vessel shook under the dragon's attacks.
"Go!" he cried to the helmsman.
The helmsman, a small, blond human man, concentrated on the helm and willed the hammership to rise.
"What about Commodore Plenxon?" the helmsman made himself say through his concentration. "He just got knocked out by a dragon!"
"We'll recover him after we're aloft," the bugbear told him. "Get us going, now!"
Two hooded, dark-robed figures appeared on the Kalamarsa's bow. One was clearly a drow; the other less identifiable, perhaps a lich.
"Stop," the drow wizard said calmly to a large green dragon that was about to start tearing the armored hammership apart. "All of you—hold this ship right where it is."
The five dragons obediently pressed their claws onto the ship's railing just as she started to lift from the pier. They created drag, but the power of a spelljamming helm could push even a dragon—even five of the monsters.
"I said hold this ship down!" the hooded man shouted.
The dragons desperately clawed at the hull with their front claws and slammed their rear claws into 854's native rock. Even their tails were needed, and the green dragon went to the length of clamping his jaws onto the Kalamarsa for a better grip, but finally they managed to press the vessel back down to the pier.
The helmsman tried to go, but nothing happened.
"We should be on the rise, but we're stuck!" he cried. "The dragons are holding us down!"
The bugbear started to reply, but he choked on the breath he took to speak. A greenish mist had appeared in the bridge, and it smelled horrible, like nothing either the bugbear captain or the human helmsman had ever known.
They had no chance to react as, nauseated and somewhat helpless, they felt their weapon belts being removed and their hands roughly tied behind their backs.
Then they felt the odd mental tingling sensation of telepathic communication.
"Don't fight me and you live. Fight me, you die. So does comm'dant upstairs. Shut up, walk," Dretch told them. He walked the bugbear out of the cloud as another dretch did the same with the human, toward the door at the back of the bridge.
Holding the bugbear's bound hands with his right claw, Dretch slammed his left "shoulder" into the door, tearing the catch in the doorjamb clean off, and just kept walking out of the bridge.
They found still more dretches in the corridor outside, each holding one or two captives.
"Dis is de cap'm," Dretch said, shaking the bugbear. "Don't let dem get 'way." He turned the bugbear over to another dretch and waddled away from them down the corridor.
The tanar'ri met Ladthiac in the companionway. The demon prince stopped his march down the way at Dretch's wave.
"Where Derilia?" Dretch demanded telepathically.
"She's coming," Ladthiac replied.
"Where Sivver Triup special team?" Dretch went on.
"Already on board," the undead voice breathed.
"Good," Dretch stated. "Take over here. Send Derilia to me when she get here. Tell her leave dese crewman alone. Master's orders."
Ladthiac nodded respectfully, a strange thing indeed, for dretches were at the bottom ranks of demons and he could probably have destroyed Dretch's material form fairly easily, all by himself.
However, Dretch shouldered past and went on his way, with the closest approximation of arrogance such a lowly creature could have.
The tanar'ri lord looked around disdainfully as he dismounted the huge gold dragon and his clawed feet thumped to the stone of the courtyard.
He stood to his full height of nine feet and looked around again. His head strongly resembled that of a gold dragon, but it still had the ability to look disgusted, even bored.
"Stay here," he said to the gold dragon.
"Yes, Master Krynderyl."
Krynderyl peered around through the heavy smoke that now befouled 854's air envelope. The military conquest had been completed fully. Swarms of dretches, with some quasits and a few bebiliths and vrocks, rampaged through the Gateway castle, capturing or killing more and more of its personnel. He could see dretches leading prisoners of all races out of the castle keep and towers into the courtyard.
Dretch waddled up to him. Krynderyl regarded the Master's emissary and spymaster with revulsion. Even though he was a being far superior to Dretch—who himself was a cut above most dretches—he still technically owed respect to Dretch. The unusual dretch held a higher position in the Master's chain of command.
Krynderyl hated that.
"We ready," Dretch told Krynderyl conversationally.
"Shut up," Krynderyl shot back—his version of "respect" to a dretch. "This is where it gets tricky, you blabbering moron."
"De comm'dant charmed in a minute," Dretch went on, enjoying the fact that he could disobey Krynderyl and live. "We lure more of dem here and charm dem, too."
"Not yet, you blob," Krynderyl snarled. "First, we take over this gate."
"Already have!" Dretch screeched.
Krynderyl snorted and kicked Dretch out of the way.
"Idiot," he muttered, wishing he could destroy Dretch.
The tanar'ri lord hurried off to put the plan into action. He walked around a dead black dragon and hustled to the Kalamarsa.
There, he found that the crew had been captured and bound. Satisfied with that, he looked for the commandant of the Gateway.
He recognized the commandant by the uniform. He lay on the foredeck, knocked unconscious by a severe blow to the head. Krynderyl noticed without pity that his nose and a good portion of the right side bones of his face had been broken.
"Derilia," Krynderyl called over to a familiar figure. "Put this one under your control, but on your life do not harm him in any way."
Plenxon stirred as Derilia made him sip a healing potion. He did not want to wake up—the agony of the broken bones in his face made him want to stay in deep sleep—but the pain eased against the strong potion and he opened his eyes.
He immediately wished that he had not done so. A gorgeous female face looked down upon him, but she wasn't human. Nor was she a dwarf, halfling, gnome, goblinoid, nor elf, not even a drow.
Beautiful she was, but she had wings, horns, and vampiric-looking fangs.
She was a demon.
Plenxon tried to flee, but she would have none of that. She deftly grabbed his hair and forced him to look at her, then she released him and cast a spell upon him.
Plenxon tried with all his heart to resist the charm magic, but it was too strong. Moments later, he smiled warmly and let the demon help him to his feet.
"Welcome to Gateway 854 and the flagship Kalamarsa," he said to her. "I'm the one in charge. What do you need?"
"Commodore Plenxon!" shouted the Gateway controller, an elf lady wizard. The human man had flown through the door and crashed near her in a heap.
She looked down the hallway outside to see why.
A demon with a gold dragon head glared back at her.
Krynderyl expected her to freeze up with sheer terror, but she did not. She cast a spell upon him. Itreyan military wizards, nothing if not well trained and rather powerful, did not panic so easily. The deathly green beam of a disintegrate ray struck Krynderyl from her finger, and part of Krynderyl's belly vanished.
"Arrrrrh!" the tanar'ri lord grunted. His mouth opened with the scream of agony torn from his throat by way of his belly. He steadied himself on his feet, though.
"Damn you!" Krynderyl shouted. He lunged for her, but Plenxon got there first.
"Commodore!" she screeched as he impaled her through the heart with his sword.
Plenxon watched impassively as the elf slumped against the railing directly over the Gateway and slid to the floor.
The elf wizard watched, as her life ebbed, a succubus enter the Gate control chamber. The face, beautiful even though demonic, was the last thing she saw before she died. Still, as her eyes closed, she felt the succubus take the magic rod that controlled the Gateway from her belt.
Her hands closed over Derilia's to try to stop the demon, but she had no strength to fight. The succubus just slapped her hands aside and took the rod.
"Shut it down, Derilia," Krynderyl ordered her.
Derilia's fangs slipped over her lips as she concentrated on the rod. She apparently fathomed how to use it, for a moment later, the omnipresent sound of the Gateway's operation faded, then ceased.
"Give it to me," Krynderyl told Derilia, extending a hand for the rod.
Derilia handed it over without comment. She smiled charmingly at Krynderyl, but the dragon-headed tanar'ri paid the seductive monster no mind, just waved her and Plenxon to follow him. Krynderyl walked past the bodies of over forty Itreyan guards of many races, including some that even the demons had never heard of, without looking at them.
The defenders had gradually fallen back to this point, driven by Krynderyl, Derilia, and their minions. Now, nearly a score of Itreyans, charmed by Derilia, stood outside waiting for orders.
Krynderyl waved them into line, too, and they hurried through the Gateway castle back to the Kalamarsa.
The bugbear captain worked his hands, trying to break or slip the ropes binding him. However, he found that he could not slip them, nor did he have the strength to break the fine rope. Frustrated, he sighed and bowed his head, looking at his bound boots, then his knees.
He looked at the portions of himself that he could see instead of his surroundings, for one could easily get tired of looking at dretches. The bugbear already had.
He slumped against the starboard wall of the corridor astern of the bridge. Bitterness welled in his heart, but he looked back up as a sudden hue and cry from the companionway caught his attention.
Relief burned into his heart as he saw a drow elf with big muscles and a human jump through the cargo door. More drow and humans, and an elf leaped through behind them and a furious fight broke out in the cargo hold.
"The Elnamerrna!" the bugbear shouted as he recognized the well-known renegade drow adventurer and his crew.
The dretch guard moved to claw him to death before the rescuers could reach him, but he hunched back on his rear end and kicked the creature away as hard as he could. It crashed into the doorway on the other side of the corridor, bounced off, and tumbled into the bridge in a heap.
He started to struggle to his feet, but then he decided that he'd better stay down, for he needed his legs to defend himself if more dretches came to kill him.
It never came to that, however. The bugbear watched with increasing relief as Tyfelian, Kiran, and their wizards and fighters cut down the demons. The captain found a smile somewhere as Tyfelian killed the last one and the black mist heralding the banishment of a defeated outsider rose around it, swirling it back to the Abyss.
Tyfelian wiped his swords on a cloth and smiled at the bugbear, sheathed the weapons and drew a dagger.
"Your hands," he said, advancing on the captain.
The bugbear turned so the half-drow could cut his bonds. The ropes, impervious to humanoid strength, gave way easily to Tyfelian's magical dagger.
"Somehow 'thank you' doesn't seem like enough," the captain said to the rescuing division.
"Never mind," Tyfelian replied with a shake of his head. "We've filled the whole Gateway with a kind of fumes that send outsiders away, but that won't last long. Then they'll come right back. You must retake the Gateway while the banishment lasts."
The bugbear nodded, but then he hesitated.
"What about the dragons?"
"We've killed them all," Tyfelian replied evenly. "We brought help from Quatha Vellar and other Gateways."
They hurried to the stairway up to the main deck of the hammership, then through the upper companionway to the open deck. As they did, the bugbear slipped Tyfelian a quick handshake.
"Captain Jalgrond Yalkerskay of Loksmow Township, Itreya," he introduced himself on the run.
"Tyfelian," the half-drow responded.
Above, the bugbear hurried to get out so he could look up. His shoulders slumped with total relief as he saw the Elnamerrna flying with a large number of aarakocra ships from Quatha Vellar, and even more friendly hammerships from other Gateways.
"What happened, Tyfelian?"
The half-drow didn't respond right away, looking at the Gateway itself. Finally, he looked around at Jalgrond slowly.
"Your commandant's hummerfly made it to Quatha Vellar, and we came out to help," he stated. "When we came through, we knew we were outnumbered, so we sent our own hummerflies to other Gateways, asking for reinforcements. Quatha sent some, too.
"Now, go—and hurry. Join up with your commandant at the Gateway control room and retake the place."
Jalgrond didn't need to be told anything more.
"Reopen the Gateway now," Plenxon said to Jalgrond. "The demons closed it right after they found it, I suppose. After you're done, get ready for a fight. They'll come back any minute."
Something about that statement—the part about the Gateway being closed—didn't ring true, or ring correct, at least, in Jalgrond's mind, but his superior didn't allow him time to think it through.
The commodore handed over the controlling rod and started to walk away distractedly, but Jalgrond stopped him.
"I cannot, sir. I don't know how to use this. Besides, I think the Gateway's already open again," he added, for he felt the normal thrumming produced by the powerful magical passage.
"Oh... right, right. Okay—just guard the Gateway for now. I'll send a wizard to you to work it. Kill any demons that come back."
"All right, sir," Jalgrond said uncertainly.
Jalgrond pulled his large axe from his back and held it firmly, ready to attack any reappearing demon...
... but he watched the commodore's retreating back with a thoughtful, troubled expression.
"Grand One Rykul'bre'non?"
The old drow archmage stopped his arrogant pacing of the same battlements, now ruined, that Plenxon had walked earlier, and regarded Derilia.
The succubus looked him over closely. She had never met Rykul'bre'non, but she had heard of him. Anyone with much knowledge of Elendraspace had heard the name.
"Yes?" The Elendran's voice was rough, though his face and body did not appear to be old.
Derilia thought that his was the voice of one who does not speak very often. Back in Yalthra'teyka, he had certainly kept to himself a lot, by rumors she had heard. She herself had never met him in person.
It had apparently made him powerful.
"The silly old people living around here will send ships to check on this mess, and soon," she said to him. "The Master just now told me to tell you to be ready. Also, Krynderyl wants you to go to the Gateway balcony and reactivate the passage."
"I am ready, Derilia, and I already have reactivated the passage. They simply don't know it yet, and they had no reason to shut it down in the first place. Krynderyl can send the dragons through to attack Quatha Vellar at any time. Off with you."
The succubus bowed respectfully and flew off, away from the tower and across the courtyard.
Rykul'bre'non watched her go, laughing softly to himself.
Quatha Vellar Shipyard
Elnamerrna
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
"Yardmaster calls us clear," Lygalliz advised the bridge.
"Launch!" Tyfelian told the helm.
Faprol willed the ship up, and she rose gracefully and shot away from Quatha Vellar toward the nearest Gateway.
"As fast as we can go," he told the wizards.
An hour later, the Silver Triop approached the Gateway.
"Flash to them that we want to go to Gateway 854," Tyfelian instructed Lygalliz.
A moment later, Lygalliz called back down to him.
"They say go ahead. No charge this time."
"Thank them for me," Tyfelian replied with a slight smile. "Faprol, take us in. Kiran, call the weapon bays and tell Jalaysa to cast a retain spell on our air, in case 854's is fouled."
Faprol made the Elnamerrna move forward. The great circle of blackness that was the Gateway swelled in the outeye's view, then the Silver Triop issued forth from the Gateway within 854's stony hoop.
Itreyan Gateway 854
Elnamerrna, arriving from another Gateway
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Jalgrond watched, over the railing of the Gateway control balcony, as a ship came through the Gateway.
It was a triop, painted silver, just like the Elnamerrna that flew lazily near 854. Even the runic inscriptions on the hull appeared identical. This new triop even flew the Embimuran flag.
Then the bugbear captain's eyes went wide as he realized that it was the Elnamerrna.
Krynderyl was walking across the courtyard when he saw the Silver Triop come through the Gateway.
He uttered a stream of curses in his native language, then shouted commands to the dragons to attack. Fortunately for the Elnamerrna, they could not hear him. He realized it, too, and ran back inside the castle keep as fast as he could.
Rykul'bre'non had been staring out into the space near 854 with confident, smug assuredness of a job well done, watching the dragons.
The dragons appeared to everyone else to be Itreyan hammerships, aarakocran corbinas, and one ship that was no illusion, a silver-painted triop, in appearance a close match for the Elnamerrna. The illusions seemed to rove about randomly, guarding the wounded Gateway, easing through the heavy smoke.
Then the real Elnamerrna appeared.
"Oh, vith..." the archmage snarled, infuriated, slamming his fist onto top of the crenellation.
He frantically worked his illusion magic, changing the fake Elnamerrna into an illusionary corbina, hoping to the gods that the real Elnamerrna's lookout and weapon crews had not seen it.
"What have we here?" Tyfelian wondered aloud.
"It looks like they have things well in hand," Kiran said, but he frowned as he said it.
"So it does, but where did all those hammerships come from?" Tyfelian said suspiciously. "It looks like they got some reinforcements... but where the hell from?"
"Bridge, crow's nest, emergency," Lygalliz called through the horn.
"Bridge, Kiran," the human replied as soon as he could click the horn to reply.
"One of the ships nearby looked a lot like us when we came through, but then it seemed to turn into a corbina."
"What?" Kiran frowned again.
"Yes... I swear to you I saw another triop when we first got here, painted silver and with some runic inscriptions, but then it seemed to become a corbina. Ah..." the hurwaet's voice stammered. "854 is flashing us a message. It reads, 'Gateway 854 to the starship Elnamerrna - welcome to the aftermath, but matters are handled now. Thank you for your concern. Commodore Plenxon of Itreya."
"Handled, my ass," Tyfelian muttered. "Faprol, turn us about. Take us to the courtyard up there. Kiran, tell the weapon bays to get ready to fight."
On the Gateway balcony, Jalgrond held his panic down with effort and tried to think. Unlike the bugbears of many worlds, Itreyan bugbears had intelligence equal to that of humans, and in more ways than just combat and cunning. He realized that not all was as it seemed.
He wanted to flash a message to the Elnamerrna's lookout to warn them, but he had no lantern. He glanced down for some way to escape, but the balcony overlooked nothing but space.
The bugbear opened the door behind him and peeked out of it. No one was in sight, so he hurried along the hallways to the stairs up to the courtyard. Jalgrond doubted he would live through the attempt, but he decided that he would try to warn the Silver Triop no matter what.
Inside the castle keep, Plenxon rushed for the outer bailey.
He almost crashed into Derilia there.
"Derilia, get up to the Gateway balcony and kill Jalgrond. I think he knows," he told her. "I'll take care of the real Tyfelian and his lunatic crew."
"He won't be there anymore if he knows," the succubus replied. "He'll run."
Plenxon had reached the outer doors. He flung them open and spoke over his shoulder.
"Then get up to the battlements and tell the archmage to find him and kill him. Jalgrond's the only bugbear here."
Tyfelian edged past the forward ballista and looked down, out across the courtyard of 854.
A battle had occurred here, most certainly. He saw at least a dozen dead dragons, though he could not discern what types in the poor light. Above, he could see that the heavily armed battlements of the Gateway castle had been completely destroyed.
Incongruously, friendly ships circled on patrol above quite serenely.
Then Commodore Arcle Plenxon opened the outer doors and approached the Silver Triop.
Tyfelian watched him closely as the human walked across the courtyard. Plenxon had made it about halfway to the floating Silver Triop when Tyfelian heard a gasp from behind him.
"Tyfelian!" Jalaysa hissed. "I just cast a spell to see through illusions... those aren't ships out there. Each hammership and corbina is actually a dragon!"
Tyfelian's heart thudded.
Jalaysa saw his spine tighten with alarm, and she understood why. By appearances, there were hundreds of Itreyan and aarakocra ships out there.
Hundreds of dragons.
He painted a look of intelligent concern onto his face and addressed Plenxon as the human man walked up to a spot near but not underneath the Elnamerrna.
"Ahoy, Elnamerrna!" Plenxon shouted. "The trouble is all over. With help from the other Gateways and the aarakocra outposts in the outer Belt, we drove the dragons away."
"Charmed," Alzja commented from behind Tyfelian's shoulder. "No military leader could be that naive."
"Might be able to use that to our advantage," the half-drow told her out the side of his mouth. To Plenxon he yelled, "So I see. Nevertheless, Lady Kreeahlka received your hummerfly and we wanted to come investigate. By your leave, we'll be going now."
"Now, now," Plenxon said suavely. "As long as you're here, surely you can assist us with repairs? Your wizards are more powerful than mine. I'll give you ten free passages through my Gateway," he offered enticingly.
"Very well," Tyfelian returned. "Where would you like us to land?"
"Over there," the commodore pointed at an empty landing dock on the hoop.
Tyfelian gave the human a quick nod, then moved away from the lip of the weapon bay.
The instant he got out of sight, he grabbed the voice horn.
"Bridge, Tyfelian, emergency! Helm, take us back through the Gateway, immediately!"
As the Silver Triop began to move, Tyfelian turned on Alzja.
"Remove the charm from that poor man," he snarled.
Alzja cast, but then the outer doors of the keep flew open again. Tyfelian frowned at the sight of a bugbear in an Itreyan naval uniform running out as if a legion of angry locusts swarmed right at his heels. He shoved Plenxon away hard enough to knock the human over, then kept running.
As the Elnamerrna backed away over the courtyard, Tyfelian got a good look inside the keep and saw the reason.
A very good reason.
Not locusts. Worse than that.
Tanar'ri. A swarm of tanar'ri right out of the half-drow's worst nightmares of his youth, perhaps, ran hard on the bugbear's heels. They chased him right out onto the courtyard. Tyfelian recognized dretches, quasits, and vrocks.
"Gods have mercy..." Tyfelian breathed. "Alzja, for the god's sakes send him a dimension door! They'll cut him to ribbons!"
Alzja cast again. She placed the other end of the portal vortex right in front of the running bugbear, close enough that he could not avoid it, and the other end right beside her.
"Tricky—" Tyfelian started to say, but the bugbear ran full-tilt into the portal vortex on the stone and came out into the weapon bay. Kreg caught him, easily halting the bugbear's running momentum with his vast strength.
Alzja hurriedly dismissed her spell to prevent any tanar'ri from coming on board, but then the Elnamerrna dove down out of sight of the keep.
"This is the starship Elnamerrna," Kreg said to the frightened bugbear. "Welcome aboard."
Plenxon picked himself up, pretending to shake off the effects of the knockdown, but in truth, he was shaking off the effects of Derilia's charm magic.
He suppressed a smile at the knowledge that Jalgrond had escaped, but then he was surrounded by tanar'ri.
Clamping his teeth down over nausea, he pretended to be their friend.
The Elnamerrna rang from a mighty magical blow.
Tyfelian came back to the bridge at a run.
"Report!"
"Some hotshot wizard just cast a spell that made a spectral fist. He's blocking our path to the Gateway with it and just now clobbered us one," Faprol advised him. The Listraeean's face went even grimmer as he noted, "Dragons approach us from behind. We're bracketed."
"Great," Tyfelian muttered. "Where's that wizard?"
"I see him," Faprol noted. "He's over there to starboard."
Faprol turned the outeye's view. Sure enough, there stood a lone figure on the battlements to starboard, right beside a burned, twisted catapult. He appeared to be standing nearly at a right angle from the perspective of the Elnamerrna's bridge crew, since the Silver Triop's orientation matched that of 854's castle keep at the moment.
The spectral manifestation of the enemy wizard's spell, a gigantic, ghostly, disembodied fist, swung at the Silver Triop again. This time Faprol steered clear and it scored only an ineffective punch on the vessel's ram.
"Faprol, line us up for an attack pass on that cursed wizard," Tyfelian ordered. "And make it quick!"
The Listraeean turned the Elnamerrna. The tiny image of a man in the outeye got larger. Faprol dimly heard Tyfelian issuing attack orders to the weapon bays, though he figured that they didn't have any chance of getting a shot. Any wizard powerful enough to cast a spell like that one could also teleport out of danger. Even if he did not, he would undoubtedly have magical protection in place that their attacks could not penetrate.
To Faprol's surprise, the arrogant wizard—a drow man, he now saw—just stood there and casually slammed a lightning bolt into the Silver Triop.
Jaclyn's defensive powers dissipated most of it—Faprol marveled at her ability to use her defensive psionic powers on the whole ship—but he felt the sting enough to make him angry. Reacting to that, Faprol twirled the Elnamerrna so that all of the weapon bays would have a chance to attack.
The opponent got in one more attack before the Elnamerrna got into range to attack a target as small as a person. A meteor swarm blazed through space and struck Jaclyn's defenses—her energy barrier power wrapped to the Silver Triop's air envelope when she used it that way—but again a great deal of it dissipated against the barrier or was negated by the protective runic inscriptions on the hull.
Watching the attack on the enemy wizard closely with his wraparound view, Faprol felt confused for a moment. He realized that it seemed as though one Elnamerrna wizard had not attacked at all.
Then his brow cleared as realized what had happened. He watched with satisfaction as the wizard burned, froze, and sank into a lava puddle that suddenly appeared around his feet, even as catapult loads and ballista bolts tore apart the crenellations all around him, crushing him with stone.
He turned the ship around, back toward the Gateway, with a knowing smirk. One of the attacking wizards, probably Jalaysa, had cast a well-timed dispel magic spell, to try to make sure that that wizard actually took the shots that the Silver Triop fired at him.
Menlina, manning navigation, turned around to look at Tyfelian and Kiran with a big, open-mouthed grin and a look of sheer delight.
"I've met that one! Do you know who you just killed?" she laughed.
"No," Tyfelian replied nonchalantly.
"That was Rykul'bre'non—the most powerful Elendran wizard who ever lived, some say!" she cried, laughing.
"Hell with 'im," Tyfelian said, which only made Menlina laugh harder, but then the Silver Triop shook again.
"Dragons attack," Faprol reported.
"Hell with them, too," Tyfelian replied without missing a beat. "Take us into the Gateway no matter what it takes, Faprol. You are cleared to ram."
Faprol went about the task with a wolfish grin. He had not recognized Rykul'bre'non—he was not old enough—but he had heard the name in his old history studies, of course. He made the Elnamerrna dash for the Gateway passage, ducking dragons all the way.
He felt the protective energy barrier fail as the ship neared the Gateway passage, but he had no time to think about it as he drove the Silver Triop onward, and the Gateway loomed larger ahead. Fortunately, Jaclyn knew it had expired, too, and she moved to the helm to renew it.
Dragons slashed with claw, slapped with tail, and breathed every kind of terrible fury they had at the retreating silver starship, but Faprol did not relent. Ignoring the pain from the attacks that actually got past the strong defenses, he pressed the Silver Triop through the Gateway.
As the Elnamerrna came through the other Gateway, near Quatha Vellar, Tyfelian couldn't suppress a grin, mirroring Menlina's mirth, as he reached for the voice horn.
"Lygalliz, flash an emergency message to the Gateway behind us. Tell them to close their gate."
"Something funny?" Kiran asked curiously.
"Yes," Tyfelian replied as he let his grin form fully, from one pointed ear to the other. "I wish that the lot of those dragons and tanar'ri could have heard Menlina's laughter... all the way through the Gateway." He shook his head. "They deserve it. And if they're laughing, they'll be laughing out the other sides of their heads if they attack Quatha Vellar."
Quatha Vellar
Elnamerrna, parking orbit around the shipyard
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
"Someone who looked a lot like you jumped through the cargo door," Jalgrond finished his explanation of the events. "Right with him were doubles for most of your command crew here and some of the general crew. Whoever they were, they cut down our captors and set us free."
"I assure you, that wasn't us," Tyfelian stated. "We came through the Gateway as you saw us, but none of us left the ship there."
The half-drow thought for a moment, then turned away from the conference table to address Kiran.
"Alert the crew to be wary of look-alikes again," he said. "A team of people who looked like us rescued Captain Jalgrond here."
Kiran nodded, but he looked puzzled.
"That's a lot of trouble to go to, for a trick like that..." the paladin said wonderingly.
"Oh, I tend to agree, and I don't like it," Tyfelian told him. "One mystery after another, piling up on us. And none of it makes sense."
"It does make sense, if you think about it from one angle," Kiran said as his brow cleared. "Something just occurred to me—perhaps the attackers wanted the people on 854 to think they'd regained control."
"So that everyone else would think that it was all over... Commodore Plenxon and...who was it?" Tyfelian asked Jalgrond.
"Captain Gratsen."
"And Captain Gratsen win the day against a mighty host of invading dragons," Tyfelian finished. "But that implies infiltration, not a military attack. That mess of dragons at 854 was a main strike force if I ever saw one."
Tyfelian faced Kiran squarely. "Your reasoning makes perfect sense, but I can't imagine why anyone would want to do that. If our mysterious enemy can send tanar'ri to the Material Plane, why not just do that and keep doing it 'til there are enough here to take whatever it is he wants?"
Kiran shook his head grimly.
"I'm afraid I don't pretend to understand any of what's happened to us, but there has to be a pattern to it somewhere, or at least some reason that we don't know."
"I don't know anything about your recent experiences," Jalgrond spoke up, "but keep one thing in mind. We saw tanar'ri. Tanar'ri are smart... well, some of them, anyway... but they're also haphazard. They're not so good at planning and organization when they try to achieve a goal. And, they often delegate aspects of a plan down to lessers who might have their own agendas, or play people or creatures against each other, and so on.
"So your hidden enemy might be working against you through middle-men, each of which has its own goals. That might be messing him up so he hasn't managed to nail you yet."
Tyfelian frowned, thinking.
"Yes... yes, that sounds likely," he said aloud. "We've been trying to figure out what's really happening, and we haven't been able to... maybe because a lot that's happened to us doesn't really have anything to do with it."
"Like the Elendran attack on Listraeespace?" Kiran asked.
"With that, I'd just be getting started," Tyfelian said, marveling. "But to use that as an example, perhaps the captain is right—in that case, the Listraeeans had nothing to do with any of it. Our enemy just used them to get us out of the way, putting the Spider Queen in his debt in the process."
"But that still leaves out the question of why he—or she—thinks we're important to get out of his way, like I said before," Jalaysa pointed out from where she had been standing quietly near the navigation station.
"True enough," Tyfelian granted, stumped. Then he brightened.
"I'm starting to think that he's the only one who can tell us what his motives are, unless you've made progress finding out who he is," he said, looking pointedly at Jalaysa.
"Not yet, but I'm working on it," the elf lady replied. "I've found out a good deal about who he isn't, though. He's not one of the gods, in any known crystal shell. That means he's just an Abyssal Lord, but a pretty mysterious one."
"I'd half-expected you to be back at work in Appler by now," Tyfelian commented.
"I have a memorial service to attend," Jalaysa replied quietly. "Even in the middle of all this, you're still going to do it, aren't you?"
Tyfelian blinked.
"Yes... of course. Sorry," he said to her. "Of course you wouldn't miss it."
He stood. "Kiran, use the unseen crew so all hands who want to can attend, except for one wizard. I believe you already have a volunteer?"
"Yes. Chalizon. But even he will watch and listen through Tash's crystal ball."
"Good enough. Let's go."
Quatha Vellar
Elnamerrna crew, except Chalizon, Embimuran Temple on Quatha
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Alzja placed four urns on the altar. She read the labels for the twentieth time, making sure that they were correct.
Tashililikrellina Hal'liropy Trula Stiles Melanerra Quistorn Fing Flerico
They were correct—or at least spelled correctly. Alzja shook her head a tiny bit, for even she, another drow, could not pronounce Tash's proper name.
"Something?" Kiran asked from beside her.
"Yes," Alzja replied with a soft laugh. "Drow from Krenxentonmora have such jawbreaker names. Even other Engethian drow consider them eccentric. Even goofy. I can't say her name right."
"Hmm," Kiran murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps so, but maybe the drow of Tatissadane can't be considered any better. You don't have last names."
She turned back to look at the urns.
"I was looking them over to make sure I wrote them down properly."
Her emotion-filled eyes looked over the words yet again.
"They're correct, except maybe for Fing's name. Now that I think about it, I don't believe for a second that was her real name. Not the last name, for sure, and 'Fing' doesn't sound like a kender name to me."
"Perhaps she was married to a non-kender at one time," Kiran guessed. "She would have told you anything you wanted to know about her life history, except for between the day she left Krynn and the day we met her. She steadfastly refused to tell me anything about that time."
Alzja smiled widely even as she held back tears. Then she blinked them away, for she heard the crewmen behind her taking their seats in the pews.
They had asked for a small side chapel to themselves in the Great Embimuran Temple of Quatha Vellar. Since it was a private ceremony, there was no need for the main sanctuary.
Alzja moved toward her seat as Kiran stepped up to the platform, but the paladin had not moved behind the pulpit to speak before a cleric rushed into the chapel.
"A thousand pardons for interrupting," the cleric said to Tyfelian, "but there's someone out in the hall who wishes to attend, and I'm not sure whether I should let him in."
"Who is it?" Tyfelian asked curiously as he stood.
"I don't know, Master Tyfelian," the cleric said, "but he's a scro, and a captain, if I read his rank insignia correctly."
Tyfelian shared an alarmed look with Kiran as his hands went to the hilts of his weapons and loosened the peace strings.
"What next?" the half-drow said with a groan as he hurried out the door, waving Kiran to follow.
He and Kiran stepped out to face...
"Wrackblood!" Tyfelian cried.
"Tyfelian," the scro replied evenly. "I understand that you've taken casualties. I would attend the services of my old enemy."
Tyfelian blinked, surprised that Wrackblood had even known where to find him.
"Very well, if you'll wear peace strings on your weapons," he told Wrackblood and his companion. Tyfelian looked up...and up...to meet the gaze of his old enemy's war priest. Wrackblood was tall, even for a scro, but Morkitar towered taller still.
"Hello again, Morkitar," the half-drow said.
The extremely tall scro war priest said nothing at first, just glared at Tyfelian with his good eye for what seemed like half of forever. The other eye—if he had one—lay hidden behind a black eye patch. Then, finally, Morkitar gave Tyfelian a nod.
"It's all right," Tyfelian said to the cleric. "Give them peace strings."
The young human handed over the small ropes to the imposing scro, but Captain Wrackblood and Morkitar had no idea what to do with them. Clearly, they had never before seen peace strings.
"Here, may I?" Tyfelian asked.
Wrackblood shrugged, so Tyfelian deftly tied up the big scro's sword. He felt strange doing this—after all, Pelias Wrackblood was perhaps his archenemy, the scro soldier that he and Kiran, fighting shoulder to shoulder, had never been able to defeat, even two against one.
Still, he got the famous scro captain's sword tied securely. There was nothing he could do about the pair of dagger blades where Wrackblood's left hand should have been, though.
He did the same with Morkitar's enormous blade, then waved them to follow him into the chapel.
Kiran glanced surreptitiously at the two scro, who stood surreptitiously near the rear wall, and placed a token of the enemy—a dragon scale—into each one. He then took the pulpit.
The human pursed his lips with thought, then began.
"I met Tash Hal'liropy three years ago, on my home world. At the time, she and I both served Baron Tyfelian of Nacla Township," he stated, nodding once at the half-drow. "At first, I felt uncomfortable working for a drow and working with two others, but I got used to them. Tash was the epitome of raw power, but she never used her magic to wreak chaos or inflict harm without reason. Despite my initial concern, she was a good friend and a redoubtable ally who never wavered in the face of any trouble.
"Trula Stiles was ever a mystery to me. I never did figure out exactly what her profession was, except that she was no warrior, or wizard, or cleric... she was simply a lookout. I met her early in my participation in the Second Unhuman War, and soon after, I slept better, whenever she stood her post during my time of rest. I never knew anyone whom I'd rather know was watching over my sleep. Part of her lives on, for Trula trained our current lookouts. She passed on the subtleties of the sentinel from one to the next, all from a master of that duty.
"Melanerra Quistorn was different from the others. I had heard of her great works even before I served Tyfelian at Nacla. She was known far and wide as a healer of soldiers, but she gave up that life to serve the man I still serve. I lost count of the many times that her healing touch kept me on my feet and able to keep fighting during the War and in many another conflict. She never failed to be there when the enemy was about to strike me down.
"Lastly, Fing Flerico. A kender cleric and battlepoet... who would have thought such a thing? Certainly no one on Krynn just a few years ago. Yet, there she was, singing and laughing and grasping my knee to heal me in battle just as Melanerra did. She was my anchor, the steady point of calmness, who could bolster me even against a great dragon's dreadful aura, and banish the fear in my heart with the power of her voice. Hers was a voice that could rally my will even when it seemed all would be lost, so that I would raise my sword high and smite the enemy even in the face of defeat.
"These four women are prime examples of the greatness within all of us, the crusading spirit that can never be stopped. May the books of history ring out the truth that they died in battle, on a mission to rescue a score of fellow crewmen who had been taken from us. With their steadfast courage lighting our path, we won the day and recovered the lost ones.
"I dare not try to put to words the meaning to us of the ends of their lives. Each of us must come to terms with what has happened within our own hearts. For myself, I will ever miss them."
The paladin gave the four women a moment of silence from himself, then he walked over to the urns.
"May the gods keep you safe now," he murmured.
All of the crew who had known the four women spoke at the pulpit, though they knew that they could not exceed Kiran's eloquent delivery.
Finally, Captain Pelias Wrackblood took the pulpit.
Tyfelian tensed and hoped for the best.
Wrackblood placed a token of the enemy in each urn, as the others had done. He dropped a dragon's tooth in each, but in this case, carvings of a dragon's tooth, since he had not been present at the time of their deaths.
A murmur went up, though, as the scro soldier did not drop a token into Fing's urn. The Elnamerrna crew rumbled ominously.
"What about Fing?" some crewman yelled angrily, but Tyfelian and Kiran couldn't tell who had shouted that.
"I did not know her," Wrackblood replied, even though he did not know whom he answered, either.
The simple explanation did little good—the threatening noises from the fiery crew got louder.
Fearing a lynching—for Wrackblood already was not the most popular person on the Material Plane to the Silver Triop crew—Kiran explained quickly.
"That is proper according to his beliefs," he told Tyfelian. "He never met or fought Fing. In his tradition, paying any attention to her at the service would be disrespectful, toward someone he never even met."
Tyfelian quickly passed the word.
After the unease at his actions settled down, Wrackblood spoke.
"I met the lot of these women, except for the lady kender cleric, on the elven armada Starglow," Wrackblood began. His voice sounded very articulate, powerful, as inspiring, in its own way, as the presence of Tyfelian and Kiran.
"They interrogated me. I remember it well, though their methods were far from brutal. After that, I met them again on Gamaro Base, where I exposed them as imposters for some mercenaries I'd intended to contract out. Very clever of them to impersonate those merks. It almost worked, too.
"When the fight broke out, I knew the flaming sting of Tash's magic, the punishing wrath of Melanerra's mace, the blurry menace of Trula's tumble. These three, like the leader they served, could fight like you wouldn't believe. I've fought the best that the Prime Material Plane has to offer—the Elven Imperial Navy. And these women made the lot of them look like clumsy recruits in boot camp. Their loss is a tragedy, even to an old enemy."
Wrackblood walked over to the urns. He passed his hands over them, except Fing's.
"Wherever you went, may you come back when needed again," he said to them, "in the fashion of great warriors in all of creation."
"Well-said," Tyfelian murmured very softly, though he didn't refer to reincarnation.
Wrackblood left the pulpit.
Although he didn't know exactly why, Tyfelian snagged him as he moved back to his seat.
"I'd be honored if you dismissed my crew, Captain," he whispered to the scro.
This raised eyebrows. A formal dismissal was appropriate to a military funeral, or even to a captain who liked a tighter chain of command than Tyfelian, but it hardly seemed his style. Kiran gave him a look of curiosity, but Tyfelian just raised a hand with a slight smile, and Kiran subsided. The rest of the crew followed suit; Tyfelian's manner said 'trust me,' and they did.
Wrackblood glanced around, but all who wanted to speak already had. He nodded quickly at Tyfelian and moved back up front.
"Attention!" he called. Everyone stood straight in semi-military fashion.
After a moment of silence, Sildara nodded to the cleric outside the chapel. He came into the room with four vials of holy water held against his chest in ritual fashion.
He poured one vial into each urn, then capped all four.
"Gods of the Grand Hearth, take these women and remember them always," the cleric prayed as he finished.
This ended the ceremony.
"Dismissed," Wrackblood told the Elnamerrna crew. "I strongly recommend that you return to your vessel immediately. When I arrived, the yardmaster advised me that an attack might be imminent."
They all filed out then, most feeling better than before. Tyfelian had little use for religion himself, but he admitted that funerals were one religious ritual that actually had a real purpose—not for the dead, but for the living, so they could get on with their lives.
Which he intended to do, but he moved through the crowd in the outer hallway with alacrity, for he had someone to whom he needed to talk.
"Captain Wrackblood?"
"Yes?" the scro replied, turning.
"What happened to you after the War? Last I saw of you was at Gamaro right before I left there."
"With the witchlight marauder, I may add," Wrackblood replied, a faint snarl in his voice. "I joined up with the naval force that the Almighty Leader intended for the sacking of Hearthspace, but we got recalled to Dukagshspace before we could fully mount our attack. By the time we made it home, you and the cursed elves had already been there. You know the rest.
"I've been wandering the Flow, looking for mercenary work," the great scro captain finished. "It seems that that is all I have left to do, thanks to you."
Incredibly, Pelias Wrackblood bowed slightly to Tyfelian, turned on his heel, and went on his way. Behind him, Morkitar appraised Tyfelian—the first time he had ever been able to do so, outside of mortal combat conditions.
"During the memorial, your First marveled at the existence of a kender cleric," Morkitar observed. "Then you should also marvel at your own existence. A drow with the courage to face a scro... I would never have thought it possible. Well played, Master Tyfelian."
Tyfelian had no words to reply, so he watched Morkitar go, in the footsteps of Wrackblood. He bit his lip, torn.
Jalaysa came up beside him in the busy hallway. She noticed his irresolute look and raised her eyebrows curiously.
"Wrackblood and Morkitar," he answered her unspoken question, looking after them. "It's sad, Jalaysa. All that skill, all that power... devoted to evil."
"What a waste," the elf lady agreed. "But at least they might serve a useful purpose now, doing mercenary work. Sometimes good people hire merks."
"True enough," Tyfelian murmured, then he blinked, and moved off with a deeply thoughtful look on his face.
"Master Tyfelian, this is not an ideal time for an audience," Lady Kreeahlka said to the half-drow. "My scouts report a fight at the nearest Gateway."
"In a way, that's what I want to talk to you about," Tyfelian replied. "I'd like you to hire on Captain Wrackblood's ship as one of your patrol vessels."
Kreeahlka blinked and her beak opened slightly with astonishment.
"Captain Pelias Wrackblood," she repeated back to him with disbelief. "The scro captain who led the invasion force whose forward scouts wreaked chaos here before his Almighty Leader called him off?"
"The same," Tyfelian said without missing a beat. "He's been roaming the spheres looking for mercenary work, and here, at least you could keep an eye on him... while his miserable hide actually does something useful."
"That is so," Kreeahlka said, thinking. "Very well, Tyfelian—on your recommendation, I will enlist Wrackblood in my patrol fleet if he wants the job. Now, go—we'll be under attack very soon."
"I'll tell him," Tyfelian smiled, bowed respectfully, and then ran off to the waiting Jalaysa.
