Hearthspace, Quatha Vellar
Elnamerrna
Midsummer 12th, 2461
Alzja opened her eyes to behold Hearthspace.
As expected, she had returned to the Prime Material Plane in open space. She had aimed for Quatha Vellar, but the spell had deposited her hundreds of miles from the shipyard. She had expected that, too.
What she had not counted on, however, was Clyperri.
The ice moon sat less than a hundred miles behind her. She knew full well that she would fall—she probably already was, she just couldn't feel it—so she quickly cast a teleport spell.
That spell put her off-target, as well. She appeared near the Elnamerrna's bow, as intended, but a dozen feet above the cargo bay door.
The drow lady fell, hit the door, and then rolled right off it to portside. Coughing, wind blasted out of her, she staggered to her feet and walked on top of the hull to the ballista bay.
The guard standing watch—the hobgoblin, Jekrelt—drew his sword as Alzja walked around the corner of the opening where the catapult stood. Behind him, two other guards—the scro Kerliak and the human Kelton—spun to their feet from their card game and whipped out their blades. Two more guards—Anna and Abt—came up behind them curiously, but with their weapons in hand.
It was only Alzja, though, wheezing and looking dirty and worn.
"Alzja!" Jekrelt cried. "What are you doin' back?"
Alzja tried to walk into the bay, but Jekrelt, Kerliak, and Kelton barred her way with their blades.
"Not yet," the hobgoblin told her. "Call for Jaclyn, Kerliak," he told the scro.
"Jaclyn, to the upper weapon deck, urgent," he called into the voice horn.
They waited for Jaclyn to appear. When she did, Kerliak pointed at Alzja.
"Make sure she's who she looks to be," the scro requested.
Alzja felt Jaclyn's telepathy against her mind. She accepted it fully to allow her friend to verify her identity.
"Stand down," Jaclyn said with a smile, after only a moment. "It's her."
She beckoned Alzja.
"What happened in Elysium?" she asked urgently.
"We found the place where the Isles of the Blessed are," Alzja replied, "but it's a world-ocean. Thalasia is its name, and it's deep in Elysium. You wouldn't believe how big that ocean is.
"We need some way to travel over water," she explained. "That means we need the ship."
Jaclyn shared a long look with Alzja. The psion took a deep breath as she considered her answer.
"Only a wormhole could do that," Jaclyn said slowly, "and I don't know the location."
Alzja nodded.
"Probe my mind to get what you need."
Jaclyn and Alzja went to Sildara together. Meeting up with her on the bridge, they explained the situation.
"We can't go any farther. We need the ship there."
"Jaclyn?" Sildara queried. "Can you do it?"
"Yes," the psion replied, "but my accuracy will be off. When you go to another plane of existence, appearing right where you want to be is the wildest stroke of luck, even with a wormhole. Alzja will have to locate the team with her magic and point the helm to them, from wherever we end up."
"I see," Sildara replied. "Get ready—I'll inform the crew."
"Launch!" Sildara called to the helm.
Faprol made the Silver Triop rise. Back in action, the sentient vessel climbed into space.
"Make starspeed as soon as we're clear," Sildara told the helm. "Any heading—we just need some distance from Quatha Vellar."
"Understood," Faprol replied.
"All wizards, ready spells to make the ship levitate, in case spelljammer helms won't work in Elysium."
The Elnamerrna left the gravity influence of Clyperri, then that of Clystin. Faprol willed her to greater speed, and the Silver Triop shot off across Hearthspace.
Sildara reversed the outeye's view to see Clystin and Clyperri. She waited until the planet and its moon had nearly vanished from sight before she spoke again.
"Full stop, helm."
As Faprol slowed the ship, Sildara gave Jaclyn a nod.
Jaclyn willed her clairvoyance into action, holding the lock of hair that Alzja had taken from Tyfelian. She concentrated on it to locate him.
The image came, but as she had heard, scrying into another plane of existence was difficult. Elysium was another dimension entirely, the place where the souls of dead people—good-hearted ones from Hearthspace, at least—ended up when they died. The barriers of existence itself that kept the planes separated from each other presented a serious obstacle. She saw Tyfelian and the Elysium team in her mind, but she could do no more than approximate their precise location. Traveling to another plane was not an exact science, could never be exact.
Good enough, she believed. She had a target, at least.
The psion closed her eyes, falling briefly into a deep trance and drew upon one of her most powerful abilities—the most powerful aside from her psychometabolic ones. One of the Primeval Manifestations, it was, and a recent acquisition to her repertoire of powers.
A vortex of spinning energy appeared in space, less than thirty feet in front of the Elnamerrna's bow. The wormhole psychoportive power could create a passage between two points in creation—the near side always close to the psion, the far side... anywhere else the psion chose, as long as she knew where it was.
Now, Jaclyn again probed deeply in Alzja's mind for the location. She had been to this part of Alzja's memories before, but now, she used the immediacy of the memories to help her take aim.
The wormhole glowed brighter—a very great deal brighter.
Sildara's eyes narrowed.
"Why is it so bright?" she asked Jaclyn.
"Usually, it wouldn't be, but I'm aiming at another plane of existence. It takes a lot of power to do this. Be ready to catch me, Sildara—I may pass out when we're done."
"Tell me," Sildara continued, "why did you not do this for us when we needed to go to Krynn?"
"I wasn't able to, then," Jaclyn answered. "I would've told you, as I told Tyfelian. But you've been in command only briefly, and I've been busy trying to make a permanent way for us to talk to the ship."
"I see," Sildara said quietly, satisfied.
Jaclyn closed her eyes, concentrating again upon the wormhole, Alzja's knowledge of the destination, and her clairvoyance upon Tyfelian.
"It's ready," she told Sildara, opening her eyes. "Take us straight through."
Elysium, shores of Thalasia
The Elnamerrna expedition to Elysium
Midsummer 12th, 2461
"Look!" Lygalliz cried.
Tyfelian had been lying against a boulder, looking out across the beautiful waves of Thalasia. At Lygalliz's cry, though, he looked up to the sky.
The Elnamerrna's silver paint flashed merrily in the light of the Thalasian sun. The triop approached them fast, sails flapping slowly in the sweet wind. The starship looked even more magnificent than usual in Elysium's light.
Tyfelian scrambled to his feet.
"Yes, Alzja, yes!" he said triumphantly, shaking his fist.
Only a short time later, the Elnamerrna flew above the azure waters of Thalasia at great speed.
"Report," Tyfelian said the second he walked back onto the bridge, though he still had a big smile planted on his face.
"The helm is fine, but we have no navigation at all," Menlina advised him. "Both the Locator and the Shell Locator went dead the moment we arrived. Jaclyn is in her quarters, recovering."
"How can we find the Grand Hearth without navigation?" Sildara then asked. "This ocean seems to go on forever."
"Moving through Elysium doesn't work that way," Tyfelian informed the navigator. "It seems that if you have some destination in mind, you'll get there, if you do good things along your way. Ignore people who need help, and you'll never get anywhere."
Menlina didn't really understand, but she made no comment.
"Faprol, take the ship higher up, but otherwise, just keep going," he called to the helm. "We'll find the Grand Hearth presently."
"Bridge, crow's nest," Lygalliz called down to them.
"Bridge, Tyfelian."
"Landmasses ahead," the hurwaet reported. "A lot of them. Very large—I can't even guess at how big they are."
"Thank you," Tyfelian replied, and shut off the horn. He thought for a moment, then addressed Alzja.
"Alzja, go to the upper weapon deck. Take your navigation tools with you. We'll need navigation once we're over the Grand Hearth."
Alzja gathered her various contraptions and left the bridge.
"Menlina," Tyfelian said softly, waving her to take the station.
Tyfelian watched the outeye expectantly. The landmasses Lygalliz had reported came into view in just moments.
Tyfelian studied them intently, frowning for a moment. Then, however, his eyebrows came out of their contracted look and shot upward.
"By the gods..."
"Are we home?" Jalaysa asked curiously.
"It sure looks like it," Tyfelian said with surprise. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't those landmasses look like Erilonia's continents?"
"They sure do," Jalaysa affirmed. "Engethi, Mytlendia, Marricor, the Shoonmars, Equatoria, Rilecca, and more—looks like they're all here."
"How many continents are on your world?" Sildara asked, staring at the outeye.
"You don't—?" Tyfelian started to ask, then cut himself off, realizing. "Oh, you've never seen the Hearthworld. Seventeen continents, but with some of them, the term is used a little loosely."
Menlina turned.
"Your home world must be of astounding size."
"It is, but the Grand Hearth is bigger yet, it seems."
Tyfelian turned the voice horn to Weapon Bays.
"Weapon bays, Alzja, bridge."
"Alzja," came her reply.
"Get me a size on those continents down there."
"I've already tried. I got a measurement in miles, but I'm not sure I can't say it. I can't really count that high—literally. Just one of those continents down there is bigger than the Hearthspace crystal shell. A lot bigger."
"What's that number?" Tyfelian asked curiously, surprised. Alzja could count higher than he could.
"For the Engethi continent here, over nine trillion miles east and west... I think. I'm not sure I'm reading this number right. I'm not good with numbers past the billions."
"I see... thank you," he said, and shut the horn off with numb fingers.
Forcing the words past stupefied wonder as he watched the outsized versions of his home planet's continents get larger in the outeye, he said, "Faprol, um... take us to Engethi. It's the large continent between the great northern oceans and just a bit north of the equator, at least on the real planet."
Faprol—somewhat stunned by the sizes of the continents below him—flew the Elnamerrna downward and to the "north," as he interpreted Tyfelian's directions. Names like "equator" and "direction" didn't apply here, but he thought he understood.
Elysium, shores of Thalasia
The Elnamerrna expedition to Elysium
Midsummer 12th, 2461
The Silver Triop descended over the divine version of Engethi.
"Northwest, Faprol," Tyfelian guided the helm. "The two portions of the continent farthest northwest."
Faprol's steely gaze readily found the place Tyfelian meant, and the ship breezed toward it.
Tyfelian wished he had his map of his adopted home country, but he could not leave the bridge. Sheer excitement kept him firmly in his seat.
He aimed the outeye squarely upon the particular chunk of land he wanted.
"There," he said to Faprol. "Appler is just about at dead center on the outeye. Take us there. On the real planet, it's a city... I think we should see what's there in the Grand Hearth."
Over the Divine Swampreaches and across Divine Lallakel Island flew the triop. Closer in, Grand Hearth Engethi looked much like the real one, except for its incredible size. However, the seawater around the continent looked rather odd. It had the rich blue color of Erilonia's saltwater, but it also had a surreal white glow coming from its depths.
Tyfelian looked askance at the Grand Hearth's Kreyla Sea, then looked ahead once more, hoping to see Appler.
Not much more than a minute later, the place that was Appler on the Prime Material Plane came into view.
"A temple?" Kiran murmured, past surprise but still curious.
The Elnamerrna skimmed over what looked like vast farmlands—no surprise there, since nearly half of the real Embimura lay covered by farms—but then she approached the place corresponding to Appler.
There sprawled a temple fortress complex that was easily ten times the size of the real city. Massive walls of polished marble spread out across the plains in geometric patterns—mostly triangles, but the Elnamerrna crew also saw enclosed, roofless buildings that were square, round, rectangular, and other shapes that they could not name. The temple-city looked rather bizarre, yet it entranced the eye.
The apple trees growing wild everywhere within and around the temple-city only enhanced the effect, much like the vast orchards of apple trees in Appler set off the Material Plane city's attractiveness.
"It's so beautiful," Jalaysa breathed. "Those buildings...!" she trailed off in wonder at the sheer size of the constructions.
"Try to find a place to land, Faprol," Tyfelian called, trying to ignore the spectacle. The half-drow found that he could not, so he forcefully tore his gaze away and turned to Kiran.
"I can't believe we've gotten this far. Maybe the gods were expecting us."
"They were. Celestian told them we would come."
Tyfelian smiled.
"Yes, of course."
Tyfelian's eye caught a sudden straightening of Faprol's shoulders.
"Helm down!" the Listraeean choked.
Tyfelian's fingers slammed the voice horn to Shipwide.
"Sound collision!" he cried.
"No... " Faprol stammered, obviously having been terrified a moment before. His voice filled with wonder, he added, "We're not falling—we're still on course. But I have no control."
Tyfelian watched curiously as the Silver Triop coasted above the oversized buildings of the temple-fortress. The visual effect seemed intimidating—the Elnamerrna weaved between buildings larger than towering mountains on the Material Plane.
Then she executed a flawless landing in a large, flat courtyard. The vessel sat down on the ground with barely a thump.
Tyfelian stood, still staring spellbound at the outeye, but he managed to give the order that he needed to give.
"Command crew, prepare to disembark. Sildara, Menlina, you're with us."
Elysium, Thalasia, Divine Appler
The Elnamerrna expedition to Elysium
Midsummer 12th, 2461
Tyfelian climbed down from the ladder dangling off the front of the Elnamerrna's cargo bay into a vision from intense, vivid, extremely pleasant dreams.
His boots thumped down upon a courtyard paved of pressed marble bricks. He looked around at the buildings in awe. He barely noticed as the rest of the command crew, plus Sildara and Menlina, came out after him.
A tall figure clad in heavy Embimuran-style armor pushed open a huge door and walked up to him, cape flowing at his waist. Tyfelian looked at him curiously; Kiran frowned, obviously seeing something familiar.
"Hello," Tyfelian said politely.
The armored figure slipped off his helmet.
"Welcome to the Grand Hearth, Master Tyfelian. Celestian told me to expect you."
Tyfelian looked at the man. He appeared to be a vigorous human in his fifties, perhaps, but something about his eyes arrested the half-drow's attention. Those eyes sparkled with infinite grace and gentleness, belying his firm hand and deadly looking sword.
Remembering his manners, Tyfelian extended his hand.
"I am indeed Tyfelian of Embimura, commanding the starship Elnamerrna. May I know your name, kind sir?"
"Oh, most definitely. I am Taronin."
Tyfelian's hand froze in midair—had he not already had it in position, Taronin would have missed it in the attempt to take it.
Behind the half-drow, Kiran went to his knees in prayer.
Taronin took the hand but did not shake it. The moment Taronin touched him, Tyfelian knew exactly who it was—Taronin himself, the Embimuran paladin god, deity of leadership and defense, the greatest of all goodly Embimuran gods.
"It gratifies me that you come here," Taronin said. "The fact that you have succeeded in reaching me, in itself, speaks volumes. In addition, you come not for your own personal gain, necessarily, but for your lost friends."
Tyfelian managed a nod, but he could not speak.
Taronin released his hand and walked over to Kiran.
"Rise, my paladin."
Kiran did so immediately. Taronin examined him with interest.
"You travel the stars, so far from home, yet your heart is Embimuran still. I am pleased."
Kiran could not respond, any more than Tyfelian could have. He bowed his head submissively.
Taronin moved on to Jalaysa.
"You have chosen to follow a leader whom most elves from Leafloft Forest would never even address as a real man... you have insight and can choose those who will not be corrupted. I sense your power... you have achieved more than most could dream of, yet your heart remains in the light. A great boon that is."
Jalaysa smiled slightly at the kind, though true, words.
Taronin turned to regard Jaclyn.
"A psion of the powers of the body... I had not thought that this could happen on Engethi—ah, you are not Engethian... but your soul is."
The paladin god examined Jaclyn with interest.
"Your father protected your mind when you were still a babe... to make it all possible. A man of vision, your father."
Jaclyn looked down modestly.
Taronin turned his gaze to Sildara.
"You are bereft," he noted, "but it is good indeed that Celestian helped you. Still, two tears for lost Nauthe'hressishtel. Take them, one each."
Sildara and Menlina extended their hands. Taronin closed his eyes and two tears, appearing as dripping mercury, splashed into their hands. The tears dissipated into their palms, leaving the souls of the two drow ladies at peace.
Taronin looked at Menlina.
"You see many paths before you, and you are already on one of them. Sildara has already chosen, in her heart, to stay with Tyfelian of Embimura—but she will not try to make you do the same. Choose well, lady drow from Nauthe'hressishtel. There remains much that you can do with the centuries of life you still have."
The paladin god stepped over to Alzja, who stood nearest the ship, near the ladder.
Taronin looked her over curiously.
"A full-blooded drow from an Engethian city far below the light of the sun or stars... yet your fiery heart holds no evil. Such a thing is against all odds even I can imagine... especially since you were at one time a cleric of the Queen of Spiders."
Even through their deity-inspired awe, the others gasped. None of them had known that.
"I, ah... changed my ways," Alzja stammered.
"And now you serve Slicktrick," Taronin said with a wide smile. "It is good that a drow returns to the light, but sadly I would not expect you to ever find another like yourself for hundreds of years."
Alzja nodded.
"Other than some hotshot ranger on the planet Toril, we've never even heard of any more good-hearted drow—except for those of Nauthe'hressishtel, who aren't really drow," she finished grimly.
"It is a tragedy indeed that the Listraeeans were lost," Taronin noted, "and it was all due to the actions of your greatest enemy, Lord Bri'kerzz—" he spat the name—"in some manner that I cannot fathom. Like you, I would like to know exactly how he did all this, but the truth eludes even me."
"We'll be going after him to destroy him," Tyfelian noted, "but I doubt very much that he will simply tell us. Jaclyn could read his mind... except that reading the mind of a fiend is not a wise course."
"Indeed," Taronin said. He waved a hand casually over Jaclyn.
"I have fortified your mind so that you may read his, without fear of his intense evil driving you insane. The effect I have placed on you has one use only, so you must not utilize it until you find Bri'kerzz to destroy him."
Jaclyn nodded. She understood.
Anticipating Tyfelian's question, Taronin turned to him with a grim expression.
"I would gather an army and go to the Abyss myself to attack Bri'kerzz," the god told him, "but I would have to go to him in the company of, not only an army, but also with my fellow gods. That is not possible—Bri'kerzz has sealed his place, Yalthra'teyka, with wards that will not allow divine beings to enter. If I sent an army there, they would merely be massacred."
Tyfelian eased back from his pose to ask a question, satisfied with the answer.
"But you... the fifty of you are mortal. You can go to Yalthra'teyka and destroy Bri'kerzz, but the effect would not last. Although he has no wish to become a god, he has acquired some divine power."
Taronin approached Tyfelian and Kiran. His hands touched both of them on their chests.
"Mmf," they both said, in chorus, stiffening, but more from surprise than discomfort.
"I have invested each of you with a small portion of my divine might. The two of you must strike the killing blows against the Abyssal Lord. When you do this, the divine power I have bestowed will flow forth and utterly destroy Bri'kerzz."
Tyfelian smiled, satisfied with having a chance, but he shifted slightly on his feet.
"Lord Taronin, I am willing to go to Yalthra'teyka on a divine quest to rid creation of perhaps the most dangerous being who has ever lived, and I thank you sincerely for giving Kiran and me the might to truly annihilate him. However—"
"You fear that you cannot win through his defenses, and still have the might to defeat Bri'kerzz, without your friends who perished on the world of Krynn," Taronin finished for him.
"Yes, Lord," Tyfelian nodded, casting down his eyes. "I'm nearly certain that we cannot prevail. While I believe we might penetrate his defenses well enough to get to Bri'kerzz, I do not believe, after accomplishing this, we would be able to destroy him and his most powerful minions."
"You are correct."
Tyfelian blinked, daring to hope that perhaps Taronin would grant him his desire.
"As Celestian undoubtedly told you, no god can take a soul from the Isles of the Blessed. Only another mortal can do such a thing."
Taronin's eyes glazed over, and his expression hardened with concentration.
"I have removed the hold that Elysium holds over your four friends. If you can convince them to leave, they will now return with you to the mortal realm, though still to their sorrow. You will have to persuade them, somehow, to stay with you there—I cannot make them go. Wrenching a soul from its eternal rest here is utterly wrong."
His voice became firm and hard.
"This is not normally done. I allow it now only because of the unusual and unthinkable consequences of refusing your request. Guard the lives of your comrades more carefully, Tyfelian of Embimura. If one of your friends dies in the future, and you cannot change that situation with the powers granted your clerics and wizards, you will not be allowed to do this again, I assure you. I can allow such an exception only once!"
Tyfelian bowed his head in acquiescence, unable to refute the god's words.
Taronin softened his tone.
"You will find your friends in the place here that corresponds to Alak-Plar in Embimura. Go to them, and from there return to the Material Plane and your home... but I must inform you, you will find only three, not four, of your lost friends here."
Crestfallen, Tyfelian looked at Taronin curiously.
"Your archmage never arrived here," Taronin explained, but his eyes drooped with amusement at the words. "Her living spirit remained with you, and she would have come back to you in time, even had you not ventured here. When the end of her body came, she was already well-prepared."
Jalaysa hurried to Tyfelian and Kiran to interject, "I think I know what she did... she never told me," she added as the two men turned to her with hard expressions.
"I'll explain when we go back to the ship," she finished quickly.
"Do not exult in the fact that Tashililikrellina would have come back to you eventually," Taronin warned gently. "It is not a good thing for your cause."
Neither Tyfelian nor Kiran understood, but Jalaysa raised a hand to stay their questions; it was not at all the right time.
"Now, as to Bri'kerzz..." Taronin said, turning to
The paladin god looked into Tyfelian's eyes, burning his instructions into the half-drow's mind.
"If you are successful, the wards preventing deities from entering Yalthra'teyka will dissipate to nothingness. Upon that event, I shall send a force of angels to that terrible place to neutralize Bri'kerzz's legions, as they will remain dangerous, if left alone after Bri'kerzz is gone.
"After you are finished with Bri'kerzz, I will locate you and open a passage to directly here, to the Grand Hearth. Walk through it when you are ready. I will be waiting for you with my forces. Then, creation will be safe again from Bri'kerzz's depredations."
"I understand," Tyfelian said calmly.
"What to do if you succeed, you do understand, yes," Taronin noted. "However, understand also what you are about to do. Bri'kerzz has powers that even we gods do not understand. He is not a god—not exactly—so he may be slain by mortals who have been prepared... but you risk much even trying to reach him."
"We must," Tyfelian said firmly. "If we do nothing, Hearthspace will be lost eventually. Bri'kerzz might be preparing another attack even as we speak. After that, he'll never stop until he draws everything into Yalthra'teyka... all of creation... or until someone destroys him."
A smile crept onto Tyfelian's lips.
"Besides, this seems like a marvelous place to end up after death. I'm not so afraid to dare death if this is where I'll be afterward... though of course Bri'kerzz will still be there and he'll get Elysium eventually."
Taronin's eyes glowed with pride and amusement, mixed with alarm. Tyfelian's observations had hit the mark precisely.
"Very well. Go to him and slay him, with my blessings. Beware, though—you attempt that which even we gods could not do, those millennia ago."
"You were less powerful at that time," Tyfelian pointed out, his Dridercomp-enhanced intuition allowing him to realize the truth. "Your power has increased many times over since you faced Bri'kerzz. His power has not increased with his time of imprisonment."
Taronin took a breath, looking at Tyfelian. Then he nodded, just once, and, incredibly, grasped Tyfelian's shoulders with his powerful hands.
"Go find your friends. They are waiting... and so is victory over Bri'kerzz if you can do it somehow."
Taronin withdrew his hands.
Tyfelian moved to return to the Elnamerrna, but he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Thank you, so very much," he mouthed silently at the god, lips trembling.
"Watch over their lives carefully," Taronin said in the half-drow's mind. "Remember that you may do this only the one time."
Tyfelian briefly closed his eyes with a nod, acknowledging that fact and counting himself as most fortunate anyway.
He gestured to the others to follow and led them back aboard the Silver Triop.
Elysium, Thalasia, Divine Embimura, Divine Appler
The Elnamerrna expedition to Elysium
Midsummer 12th, 2461
The Elnamerrna moved quietly across the skies of Divine Embimura toward Divine Alak-Plar.
Kept in a constant stunned state by the unbelievable scenery, Tyfelian reminded himself to look forward, toward finding the four women.
He found it increasingly difficult to concentrate upon his goal, however. Elysium did seem like a nice place to live, and his heart longed for it—even though a life here could be achieved only after death.
The half-drow knew it intellectually, but some parts of his heart didn't care and wanted to stay forever.
Tyfelian made a supreme effort of will and reminded himself that he could not, must not, dared not stay. Bri'kerzz would likely absorb Elysium into Yalthra'teyka, eventually, unless someone stopped him.
Sadness gripped him as he realized that he could not remain on Elysium permanently until after he died, but as a result, he decided that he should simply find his friends and get out of the plane.
"Divine Alak-Plar?" asked Sildara as they came within sight of it.
"Yes," Kiran replied. "Alak-Plar on the Material Plane is the breadbasket of our nation... even though, I'll grant you, much of Embimura is farmland, anyway. Alak-Plar is a small city surrounded by fence-to-fence farms that go on and on for dozens of miles."
Tyfelian appraised the appearance of Divine Alak-Plar.
It looked different, and yet much the same, as the Material Plane farming city.
Here on the Grand Hearth, Divine Alak-Plar had a small central "temple" of sorts—a gigantic combined garden-orchard where the trees stood miles high and even other, normally small plants were as big as castles.
Both the trees and other plants stood arrayed in free and natural rows and columns of heart-wrenching beauty. A tear slicked down Tyfelian's cheek at the sight of it.
He wiped it away, then clicked the voice horn to Shipwide.
"All wizards, another search," he called. "This time, you're looking for a kender and two humans."
Alzja cast, and Tyfelian could imagine the others doing the same with their scrying mirrors. Predictably, Alzja found them first.
"East, according to the way we'd see things on the real world... they're not in the city proper, but on the shoreline."
"Guide the helm," Tyfelian ordered.
Alzja called cues to the helm, and presently the Silver Triop approached a magnificent white-sand beach of astounding size.
"They're under that patch of trees just inland of the beach," Alzja cued.
"I see them," Faprol said. He swung the Elnamerrna around in an arc to approach the spot where the four women were, to look for a place to land.
He found a spot and put the Silver Triop on the sands without being ordered to do it. No order seemed necessary.
Faprol peered at the outeye with curiosity.
"They're asleep," he said puzzledly.
Tyfelian stood.
"Kiran, gather Kreg and Abt. Let's go get them."
The unlikely group of four men—a human, a half-drow, an ogre, and a minotaur—walked across the pretty white sand toward the three ladies.
Tyfelian reached them first. He walked into the shade of the enormous tree that they lay against without even a hesitation in his step, his expression happy and eager.
His joyous smile of triumph and relief faded as he looked at their sleeping faces.
"Tears," he noted. "They've been crying in their sleep."
Even as he spoke, he watched a tear issue from Melanerra's right eye, roll over her cheek, and drop to the sand. All three women had faint salt stains on their faces from their sorrowful weeping.
"I'd cry, too," Abt said, "if I had to leave a place like this. They must've figured it out the moment Taronin made the charm go away."
"That being so, should we take them after all?" Kiran queried, his eyes looking over Trula, Melanerra, and Fing in turn.
"We have no choice," Tyfelian said determinedly. He thought for a moment, wanting to first awaken the one who would be easiest to persuade.
That was a hard decision, he realized as he pondered the question. Finally, he moved to Fing, thinking that he could convince the kender more easily than the two humans, since death had cut short her adventures.
"Fing, wake up," he said to her, shaking her shoulder lightly. His hand slipped a little on a silk robe that was white as snow.
Fing's eyes opened slowly. She sobbed a little, but stopped that as her sight cleared and she recognized Tyfelian.
"Ty!" she said, her voice thick from crying. "You're alive!"
Tyfelian laughed despite himself.
"I'm very much alive, but you're not, and that's what worries me."
"I knew you'd come," Fing whispered, "but I hoped you'd come the same way I did. You can stay here with me, you know," she said, trying to tantalize him.
Tyfelian shook his head.
"The only way to come here, to stay, is to die, Fing." He stood and reached down for her hand.
"Come back with me. Your adventures can't stop now—I need you to help me stop the demon prince."
"Come back?" Fing echoed. "I never believed I'd hear you say that, Ty. I know you never wanted my love. You would've gotten rid of me the first chance you got, except that you couldn't do without me. They couldn't do without me."
Tyfelian could not deny the statement, and his hand fell. They both knew she was right. Tyfelian knew that it was time for him to drop the words that would convince her to leave with him, or nothing would.
"I changed my mind."
Fing looked up at him askance.
"What?"
"I changed my mind," Tyfelian repeated. "I'm sorry that you had to die before I realized how important you really were."
Fing looked at his face, the face of the man she had loved, but more importantly, trusted, when she had been alive. Another man might have done, or said, anything to get her to go along with his wishes, but Fing knew that Tyfelian actually meant it.
Her hand reached upward to take his, but she looked around mournfully as she rose.
Then she took his hand in both of hers and kissed it fervently.
He could not see this, only feel it, for her black hair fell around their hands.
"I love you more than you can know," she said to him. "I would never leave this place for anyone else."
Against his better judgment, Tyfelian embraced the kender. Fing, emotionally torn apart and confused, promptly fell asleep in his arms, surprising him. Outright seduction attempts were more along the lines of Fing's admittedly unusual style, though Tyfelian now understood that not lust, but adoring love and overpowering desire to be close to him had driven her advances. He would not have figured it out except that, in the environs of the Grand Hearth, love incarnate, he felt her emotions as almost tangible things after she fell asleep.
Tyfelian cradled his small friend, squeezing her, grateful that she had understood his motives. Her love enveloped him and strengthened him, much as her words had encouraged him many times when she had been alive.
"Abt," he called, handing her over to the minotaur. Abt took her and nodded, and Tyfelian turned to look at Trula.
The lookout had stopped crying before Fing had, but Tyfelian did not know what to make of that fact. Deciding to improvise, he tapped her shoulder.
"Trula."
Trula woke up and looked over at Tyfelian. She wiped half-dried tears from her face and stood.
Tyfelian opened his mouth to speak, but Trula clenched her fist and punched him. Unprepared for her attack, he backpedaled and wobbled on his feet.
"What the hell was that for?" he demanded, wiping blood from his lip.
"You have the gall to come here and take me away from paradise!" Trula yelled at him. "I should've known you'd find your way here sooner or later. You just never give up, do you, you stubborn bastard!"
"Yeah, I know," Tyfelian grumbled. "But it wouldn't matter anyway. That Abyssal Lord we met is going to absorb this place into his own domain... and when he does, your paradise will turn into a living hell."
"What?" Trula frowned. Tyfelian was not surprised; such concepts were new and strange to him, as well. They both came from a civilization that was anything but well endowed with planar knowledge.
"Never mind; you can tell me later," Trula shrugged it off. "I suppose you want me to go along with you back to the ship. Fine. You don't have eyes in the back of your head, so that's what I do," she stated, but the words were not sarcastic or bitter. Instead, she was beginning to laugh.
Tyfelian, still nursing his jaw—Trula was an excellent brawler—nodded and waved her toward Kreg. She glanced the ogre's way, but then a big smile spread over her face and she clapped Tyfelian on the back, in complete contradiction to her previous behavior, and grabbed his hands.
She had always admired his hands, Tyfelian knew; it was he, not Kiran, who had given this one advanced training in the fighting arts. She squeezed them, those magically strengthened hands that could deal death with flashing alacrity and yet could also save lives, working just as fast for the betterment of the multiverse.
"Go get Melanerra," she said quickly, and then rushed off to Kreg.
Tyfelian understood. Trula's aggressions had been merely emotional reactions, mostly an act. He winced as his smile shot pain through his mouth. She had not grabbed one of his weapons and attacked him with it. She had punched him, reminding him, and herself, of who she was.
"Not a bad reaction for someone getting yanked out of heaven," Tyfelian muttered to her retreating back. "Elysium's influence or no, you didn't take to this place as well as Fing did." He ignored the lingering pain from his jaw as a penance well worth the suffering.
He turned away to go to Melanerra, hoping to score three for three. The mystery regarding what had become of Tash could wait until he could speak to Jalaysa at length; all that mattered at that moment were the three here in the Grand Hearth.
"Melanerra," he called. He reached to shake her shoulder, but she awakened upon hearing her name.
She looked at him with a sad little smile and shook her head as he began to speak.
"I heard you with Fing and Trula," she advised him, revealing that, unlike the others, she had been playing possum all along. "I'm glad that you got them to decide to go home, but I can't go back with you."
"I need you at my side to fight Bri'kerzz," Tyfelian countered. "I'm not sure what happened to Tash, but with or without her, I have to take the battle to Bri'kerzz as soon as I can. Come," he bade her, extending a hand to help her rise, even as he turned on the charm, extending his charismatic aura right along with his offered hand.
Melanerra did not take it.
"I can't," she said again, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "You must leave without me."
"What's wrong?" Tyfelian asked, stung. He had to wonder if Elysium's charm had not captured her more deeply than it had managed with Fing and Trula. He knew nothing else that could keep Melanerra from joining him on his quest. "All of creation is depending on us, and we must succeed. It seems Tash won't be with us, so I'm not sure I can do it without your help."
Melanerra lowered her head.
"I know," she said gently. "But it would do no good... if I came with you, I would not regain my powers to heal," she explained, her hand unconsciously touching her holy symbol, a marvelous silver wolverine sculpture.
"What?" Tyfelian frowned.
"If I go back to the mortal world, Se'lunay will never answer another prayer from me," she explained. "That is the way of things."
"That's not right," Tyfelian said with a faint snarl in his voice. "Come with me, Melanerra, and we'll go have a talk with Se'lunay as well as Taronin."
"No," Melanerra replied. "Giving second chances to others is what we do. There is no second chance for Se'lunay's clerics. Once dead, always dead."
"That doesn't make any sense, Melanerra. I've been dead eight times!" he said forcefully. "You're saying that you can't die and come back, not even once?" he asked incredulously.
"I'm sorry," she said, and she cried again, not for herself leaving the Grand Hearth this time, but for the people she was refusing to rejoin.
Stiffening her voice, she took Tyfelian's hands and shook her head negatively, with conviction.
"Go on. Go on without me."
Seeing that he had stalled on this one, Tyfelian backed away grudgingly.
"All right," he said, disappointed. "But you can be sure that I'll be having a talk with Se'lunay at some time," he promised, "and I might be less than reverential of her ideals."
"Beware," Melanerra warned, alarm stopping her tears. "Se'lunay is not much like Taronin. She has a temper, as her animal," she said, rubbing the holy symbol again.
The warning was not lost on Tyfelian, but he shrugged anyway.
"I'll be careful, but I can't just give up... not for something like this, like you," he said with determination. "I will try again sometime."
Melanerra smiled. She would expect nothing less from Tyfelian. She did stand, however, and she hugged him briefly.
"I always loved you like a brother," she laughed. "Now go and kill the demon."
"Would that it was that easy," Tyfelian sighed. "Farewell, Melanerra... but I'll be back when I can."
"I know. Do not hurry on my account... and know that I would go, if I could help you," she added.
Tyfelian, hurt but not broken, stepped away from Melanerra and resolutely turned to walk toward Abt, Kreg, Fing, and Trula.
He looked over his shoulder, something very much not his custom, and Melanerra waved him on, smiling.
"We've got what we came for... or as much as we're going to—let's go home," Tyfelian said to them.
The six of them started back to the Elnamerrna, but a strange drowsiness came upon them. They barely made it back to the ship and up the ladder before they lost all strength in their limbs and oozed to the deck, sleeping deeply and peacefully.
Millions of miles away, in Divine Appler, Taronin smiled.
"Elnamerrna, Tyfelian is right. It is time to go home, but no mortal may know that a direct passage leaving the Isles of the Blessed, and going to the Material Plane, can be made. You will never tell anyone, not even your own crew."
"I understand," the sentient vessel replied. "I will take them back."
"Come to me, starship," Taronin beckoned.
Aboard the Silver Triop, the unseen crew member device glowed and the magical manifestations took the sails, gently moving the unconscious sailing crewmen aside so they could work.
The helm, infused with godly might, lifted the Elnamerrna from the sands and off she flew, back in the general direction of Divine Appler, the boarding ladder still flapping down from her forward ballista bay. Once the ship reached the heavenly city, Taronin raised a hand and a wormhole similar to Jaclyn's appeared in the sky. Then, he concentrated and bestowed power into the Elnamerrna.
"Two minor gifts to you, starship. One for you, and indirectly, to your crew... the other, essentially for you alone," Taronin said. "You may now speak to those within your bridge by way of the tapestry now affixed to the ceiling there. In a few hours, that tapestry will also contain your spirit, so that should you be destroyed, it may be transferred."
"I cannot express my gratitude, Lord Taronin," the Elnamerrna said, sensing the magically created tapestry.
"Express it by helping your crew destroy Lord Bri'kerzz," Taronin replied, his voice firm. "But there is another gift, strictly for you."
The Elnamerrna felt a curious sensation indeed, not like anything she had known before—not like anything she could have ever experienced before, for she was now very different.
"You are now physically alive, starship," Taronin stated. "Your new form is, in some ways, similar to that of a very, very large insect, though you will keep the inner shell of wood. That wood is now alive once more, and its roots are in the soil of the crew quarters.
"On the outside, you now carry a suit of armor formed of chitin, just as insects do. Though alive, you still will not know pain, for the chitin armor is not alive. It will regrow slowly, like a living being's claws or fingernails. It is the wood of your inner hull that is truly alive.
"You will find advantages in being alive, Elnamerrna—not least of which is that you may now learn the powers of the body from your psion mentor."
"There are no words to thank you, Lord Taronin."
"I am pleased to grant you these gifts. Now—home, great vessel. There is work that must be done, and soon," Taronin said simply. "Go—and may your crew's skill lead the way to victory."
"All my best, Lord Taronin," the Elnamerrna replied.
And she leaped through the portal in a burst of speed.
Hearthspace, near Clyperri and Quatha Vellar
Elnamerrna, adrift
Midsummer 12th, 2461
Tyfelian awakened slowly, to the faint sounds of the Elnamerrna's hull creaking. He glanced around quickly.
Nothing. His team that had helped him bring the women aboard and the women themselves, plus the topside gunners, lay all around him right where they had collapsed.
He looked out the bays.
Space. He did not know exactly where, but he hoped it was Hearthspace. He wondered how they had arrived, but there was no way to know, so he put it out of his mind
"Fing, wake up," he called. When he had awakened enough of them, he set them to rousing the rest.
"Mind your posts until I can have you relieved," Tyfelian said to the gunners. "We'll make port as soon as we can, then rest up for the trip to go see Bri'kerzz."
He then hurried out of the upper weapon deck, leading the women and those of his team who were not gunners. The gunners looked with surprise and delight at Trula and Fing, but Tyfelian allowed them only a moment.
"The ship could be in trouble," he advised them. "We'll all talk on Quatha Vellar."
Ecstatic at his accomplishment of recovering two of the slain ones, he wanted to take Trula and Fing aside with the rest of the crew and talk with them as much as the others did. He wanted to share the joy of their return, and recent events, but he did not know where the ship was and a happy reunion would have to wait.
"Not for long," Tyfelian muttered out loud, hoping.
Tyfelian's step was heavy with thought as he walked to the portside door of the bridge, but that seemed to be swept away as he entered.
It was the bridge—with two of his lost friends beside him once more.
"Faprol, helm status?"
"Helm's up," the Listraeean replied automatically, but his smile was wide as Trula and Fing entered.
"Menlina, go to the weapon bay and take a sighting for our location. I hope we're in Hearthspace. Alzja, take your station," he said to her as he glanced hopefully at the planetary locator.
What he saw looked mildly encouraging. Hearthspace, for sure—he easily recognized the central sun and the eighteen planetary orbits around it.
Some fleck at the upper edge of his vision made him look up, and he looked at the tapestry covering the ceiling. It showed a stunning view of the Elnamerrna from above, accurate in every detail, even Alzja's protective runic inscriptions. It required no leap of intellect to realize who had placed it there, but Tyfelian didn't know why. He was curious, but more pressing matters held his attention.
Menlina came back after what, to Tyfelian, felt like interminable minutes. She had shot the stars against the maps of Hearthspace and she gave the half-drow a quick nod before handing Alzja an updated navigation report.
"We're at one hundred ninety-two days from the sun," Alzja reported with Menlina's update. "Just outside Clystin's orbit. We can be at Quatha in minutes."
"Cue the helm. Take us home."
Fing climbed the stairs to Tyfelian as Trula did likewise to settle at the conference table. Kiran shook her hand and had a short conversation with her; Tyfelian could not hear them but he smiled as the paladin welcomed her.
Fing started to take Tyfelian's hand, but he turned away briefly to pick up a tiny object from the desk between his and Kiran's chairs. He pressed a half-melted silver bell into her little hand.
Fing smiled widely.
"You kept it for me?"
Tyfelian nodded, but then he looked past Kiran at Trula. He issued a low whistle to get her attention, then tossed her the Bracers of the Ebon Rogue.
She caught them easily with a knowing smile.
"You knew you could find us again?"
"I hoped," Tyfelian said, swallowing the frustration that welled in his throat at his failure to recover Melanerra. He glanced at the desk, where he had two more items—the Adamantine Wand of Evin'shay and Melanerra's damaged holy symbol, but he could not return them.
Trula looked at them, too, and shook her head, not knowing what to say. She was wondering what happened to Tash, Tyfelian and Kiran both realized, and she did not know the reason for Melanerra's absence.
"Quatha Vellar ahead," Faprol called over his shoulder.
"Crow's nest, bridge," Tyfelian called.
"Crow's nest, Lygalliz," the hurwaet's voice replied. Trula and Fing both mellowed at the sound of his voice; if Trula or Frenela did not ride the nest, Lygalliz belonged there.
"Flash Quatha for docking instructions and cue the helm."
Tyfelian shut off the horn. Then he looked at Trula amiably even as Fing slipped her hand into his.
Trula looked back at him thoughtfully, and Fing squeezed his hand.
"I'll explain everything," he promised, "but I had to do it... there's more to the mysteries we've encountered than we knew. But for now, welcome home."
"Trula, Fing..." the tinkling voice they remembered came from the tapestry on the ceiling. "Good to see you again. Welcome back, Tyfelian."
Tyfelian glanced up, startled, but then he settled down, smiling.
"Home is a little different now, it seems," he murmured.
He was content for just that moment, and he saw the beginnings of contentment appearing on the faces of Fing and Trula.
The perfect moment passed when Faprol landed the ship, and Tyfelian led them all out of the bridge.
"Come," he bade them. "There's so much I have to tell you..."
