"Quan Dien, no question." The words came from a tall, imposing red-haired human woman in her late forties. On the bridge of her marlin ship, the "Plight of Andromeda," several women were making observations around the area, and taking notes. A wrecked barracuda was floating near the marlin; one of the same ships that had interfered with the rendez-vous the day before.
"Keep us on combat alert," the red-haired woman said. "Lay in a course for Octerak, and on to Cartania, best speed."
"Aye," another voice answered. Every person on the "Plight" was a woman. The commander of the ship strongly believed that mixing genders on a war ship is bad for military discipline, so she never allowed males on her ship. This practice led to some very unpleasant rumors about the commander's personal life, but she considered such concerns beneath her.
Hypathia the arcane and her Lakshu handmaiden, Pyr, were waiting in a room just off the marlin's bridge. Commodore Delliah Ferrengal entered the room with a scowl on her face. She sat down and looked at the arcane coldly.
"I don't think much of playing baby-sitter to an arcane and her handmaiden," the woman said. "I'm only doing this because Admiral Camerek gave me a direct order. Get this straight. On my ship, you follow my rules. If you cross me, you will be nailed into your quarters until we reach Cartania. Understood?"
"It's nice to meet you too," Hypathia said sarcastically. Delliah Ferrengal was notorious for being as subtle as a punch in the nose; apparently the reputation was well earned.
"Don't play games with me, arcane," Ferrengal said back. "This entire sphere has turned into a war zone in the past several months. Social graces don't have much place under such circumstances. Now, about your business."
"Understood," Hypathia said with contempt. "Now, I just heard you mention someone named Quan Dien. May I be so bold as to ask who that is?"
"Some kind of humanoid commander," the commodore answered. "He's been leading all kinds of pirates and troublemakers for about two years now, but it's only been in the last several months that he has become a consistent problem.
"Why his sudden rise in power?" Hypathia was playing a hunch.
"At first we thought he was just out for glory like every other pirate in this sphere. But then he started using the legends of the Black Nimar to feed his reputation, and he has done a remarkable job of it."
"Why the Black Nimar?" Hypathia's hunch was going flat.
"We don't know for sure." The woman paused and became very serious. "This is not common knowledge, but there is reason to believe that one of the Black Nimar is traveling about the sphere again."
"Montrazar the Enduring?"
"Yes. History said that he died several centuries ago during the Magic Wars, but he was reported to be a Necromancer, and possessed considerable telepathic abilities on top of that. He could easily have revived."
"And you think that this Quan Dien is working for him?"
"Evidence suggests that, yes. However, Quan Dien is very efficient and leaves little behind during his exploits. Between him and this new batch of elves..."
Hypathia became alarmed.
"I thought the elves withdrew from this sphere? It was a big news item a few months back."
"The navy did withdraw, yes, but a new batch came in. They are connected with the navy somehow; something called the 'Order of the Green Sash.' As much as I hate to admit it, I've never heard of them," Ferrengal said quietly.
Hypathia thought for a moment. She knew that the elves had an order called the 'Green Sash,' but she couldn't place them. The elves can be very secretive when they choose to be.
"What about these elves?" Hypathia asked.
"Vicious, fast, vengeful, and very sloppy. They come out of nowhere and cause senseless destruction wherever they can. It's like they enjoy killing. I have little use for the Elven Navy, but even they were never this despicable."
"Is this Quan Dien or Montrazar connected with them?"
"Not that we know of," Ferrengal answered. "The Green Sash commander is a vicious elf named Blackleaf. He showed up here just a few months ago, and believe me he has made quite a reputation for himself."
Hypathia thought again. Blackleaf. Something was familiar about that name, but she couldn't place it. One thing she did suspect, however, was that the situation in Solaris was more complex than she had originally thought. It sounded like there were two parties bidding for power in the sphere. The various humanoid fleets, and the elves. And the Muldravian Empire, the only group with the power to challenge them, was occupied dealing with both.
During the entire exchange, Pyr was totally silent. This sounded like politics, something she never really understood. The lakshu simply turned and looked out a window. As Ferrengal stood up, the marlin ship lurched slightly as it entered spelljamming speed.
"You should make yourselves comfortable," Fererngal said. "Cartania is almost two months travel from here."
Hypathia just nodded. Solaris was a very large sphere. The two month trip from Beacon to Cartania was one that she had made many times before.
Beacon...
In a tiny cave in a small outcropping of rock, somewhere on one of the barren planes of Beacon, a stocky, bearded man was tending to a wounded woman. The woman was small, with reddish-brown hair. The man was perhaps two heads taller than her, with a thin beard. Another man entered the cave. The entrance to the cave was blocked with a makeshift tarp of cloth held in place by some scraps of wood. When the improvised door was opened, a numbing blast of cold air entered the cave, nearly extinguishing the small fire that was within.
"How is she doing?" Djan asked.
"She'll make it," Bagath said. "That was quite a blow she took."
Cherry was still unconscious on the floor of the cave. During those last few minutes of the Calla Maraine's fall, Bagath had cast a special spell that allowed him to save everyone who was on the bridge. Sadly, this was only himself, Cherry, Djan, Gaye, and Tempest. Tempest was farther back in the cave, near the fire. She was still in jammer-shock, and couldn't be moved.
"Did you find anything more at the wreck?" Bagath asked Djan.
"Yes, actually," the half-elf said. "Several of Cherry's books, several days worth of supplies, and some of the equipment. Gaye should be back with some of the stuff in a few minutes."
"What about the helm?"
"It's still there, and it still works." Djan paused. "Of course, there isn't anything left to helm."
"Lash it to a sturdy piece of wood, and then use it to get yourself, Gaye and Tempest to Beacon City."
"What about you and Cherry?!?" Djan asked, alarmed.
"I'm going to open a planer gate to take us directly to Cartania. Sadly, I can only move the two of us. Getting the five of us off the bridge of the ship was almost too much for me. Plane jumping isn't something you can do casually."
"Even for you? A Hierecophant Druid?"
"I can move myself among the planes at will, but taking someone with me is rather difficult" Bagath said with a smile. At that Gaye entered and shook her cloak.
"BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" she said. "This place is colder than a..."
"Yes, Gaye," Djan said.
"Just trying to be humorous... I could use a laugh right now," the kender said.
"Did you find any survivors?" Bagath asked?
"No," Gaye said softly. "No one survived the crash. The ship burned it's way clear into the ice and struck the dirt below, almost ten feet."
"We'll bury the remains of the crew before we leave," Djan offered.
Bagath nodded. He then looked over at his wife. Cherry had a horrid head wound but it appeared to be healing normally. He wasn't sure how he would get her safely through the plane gate, but since several foes were apparently searching for her, he had to minimize the risk of her being caught. He would attempt the dangerous plane gate.
Somewhere in the Phlogiston...
From the small portal in his quarters, an arcane looked out at the rainbow sea. He resented having to resort to this slow form of transport. One of the new planejumping helms could have brought him to his destination in a matter of hours. However, using the palnejumping helm might have disrupted the delicate trap he had left behind in Omnispace, and planejumping was impossible in the flow. Te-Ess'Arr admitted that he would have to spelljam one last time.
That would all change soon. By the time he reached Solaris, Omnispace would be only a memory. The fate he had in mind for Solaris was just as horrid.
Spelljamming, he thought, with utter contempt. Slow, inefficient, and it doesn't sell. So, he created a new line of technology that allowed planer travel. He wanted people to invest in planejumping, so he could phase out spelljamming. But, that wretched Conorg Consortium and its makeshift friends decided there was still money to be made in spelljamming. At first, Te-Ess'Arr paid them no heed.
But, as time wore on, people continued to use spelljamming. The only way he could have his way was to destroy those spheres where spelljamming was vital for life. Omnispace would soon be gone. Then it would be Solaris. Omnispace and Solaris had people, the Magi and the Nimar respectively, who could interfere with his plans. So, they required special treatment.
Once they were gone, however, he could concentrate on his greatest scheme: Clusterspace. Let Clusterspace fall to the powers of darkness, he would say to himself. Clusterspace was riddled with planer pockets and gates. Whoever controlled Clusterspace could control these gates, given the time to capture them. If the forces of Hell, Hades and the Abyss had that control, they could use the gates to cause trouble elsewhere. The trouble they caused could only be fought with planejumping technology, and he would be there to aid the hapless peoples of Greyspace, Krynnspace, and all the others, who found their spelljammers useless against this new order. Those who did not embrace it, would die at the hands of the creatures that he had allowed to enter the Prime Material Plane. He would control the supply and demand of both sides of a war that would rage on forever.
Te-Ess'Arr smiled smugly at his own plan, and yet, we was nervous. Several powers and groups now knew him to be treacherous, and after Omnispace was gone, it would easily become common knowledge. This isn't what bothered him, however. He had the financial resources to wield the power of a god; a fact he was fond of professing. The words of one Magi could be countered with the proper pressure in the right places.
What bothered him was the anomaly he saw leaving Omnispace. A large ship in the shape of a manta ray. Three years before he had evoked several acts of plane shifting to trap the ship in what had once been called the Broken Sphere. Somehow, it appeared that the ship had escaped, and was once again traveling free on the Prime Material Plane.
Creannon, the new Spelljammer, had returned.
"Where are you," the arcane mumbled to the flotsam outside. "Following me? Waiting for me to make a slight mistake so you can show up once again? Try all you want, Creannon. You will never catch me. I am a god, and even you can't stop me."
Beacon...
Gaye sat quietly in the tiny cave in a lotus position. Her mind was somewhere over the frozen planes, searching. In the cave with her were several twisted pieces of metal. These were the special metallic ribs that were once part of the Calla Maraine. Djan and Gaye had worked hard through the night to salvage them from the wreck, in the hopes that they could be used later. The dead from the fallen squid ship had been buried in a mass grave; none of them could be recognized.
Presently, Djan was outside working with some makeshift tools. Cherry and Bagath had left earlier that day, through a dimensional portal. Tempest was awake now, but she was still too week to move. Apparently she had suffered some internal injuries that would require more healing magic than Djan had available at the moment. Tempest just looked at Gaye, wondering what the kender was doing. In fact, Gaye was searching for signs of people. The three travelers had some idea where to go, their time in the freezing waste would be reduced. After a while, Gaye's eyes came back into focus and she heaved a long sigh.
"Did you find anything?" Tempest asked, her voice horse.
"Yes," Gaye answered, "about thirty miles to the north. Are you feeling better?"
"No," Tempest answered deadpan.
At that Djan entered and shook the snow off his cloak.
"There is a break in the storm coming," he said. "We can leave in about an hour."
"What kind of travel arrangements have you made?" Gaye joked.
"A very used and very rickety lifeboat with a great helm attached. Yours truly will be your pilot."
"You couldn't pilot your way through an open meadow," Tempest ribbed.
"And right now," Djan said in response, "you can't pilot at all."
"You've got me there," Tempest groaned, rubbing her head.
"I found a caravan," Gaye said, "to the north. We should be able to reach them in under two hours."
"What way are they heading?" Djan asked.
"West."
"Beacon City," Djan said to himself, "perfect. Come on, let's gather the stuff together."
A while later, Tempest was secured into the lifeboat, while the equipment was stashed behind the helm. The large chair look out of place on the small skiff, but it would have to do. Gaye strapped herself into the front of the tiny boat as Djan took the helm. In minutes the tiny ship was flying in an awkward path toward a range of mountains to the north. In that range was a canyon that was frequently used by the natives of the icy world, in that it offered at least some protection from the wind and snow. Once the tiny craft reached the caravan, they would travel with them to Beacon City, to keep an arranged meeting.
Cartania...
The second planet from the twin suns, Cartania has long been considered the jewel of Solaris. The green and blue world was home to many nations of humans, a small collection of dwarven kingdoms, a federation of elven kingdoms, and many others. When travelers entered Solaris, they were probably en route to Cartania. Spelljamming ships were a common sight around the planet, if you knew where to look. In a stable orbit above the Muldravian capital a cuttle command maintained a constant post. This old but sturdy ship was the nerve center for the steller navy. Above the elven federation, to the northwest, an elven armada maintained a constant guard. Other ships came and went. In recent months, however, even the normally busy skies of Cartania were quiet.
In a small valley, nestled in the forested mountains between Olvenholt and the Muldravian Empire, was the village of Maplegrove. On a hot day in late summer, two visitors arrived, but not via the river and not via the small road that ran through the town.
Just above the village, in a secluded thicket, a strange glowing door opened, and a stocky, bearded man walked through. With him was a small, well-dressed woman with reddish-brown hair. Cherry staggered about the thicket for a moment, trying to re-orient herself from the planer trip. She had a large bandage on her head, as testimony of her recent ordeal.
Bagath fell to the ground, grabbing his head. Cherry bent over, trying hard not to faint, and tried to help him.
"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to help him up.
"Pain..." Bagath said, still holding his head. "Total pain..."
"Are you in pain?" she asked quietly. Planer travel, while easy for the druid, was always dangerous. You never knew what could be waiting in the ether.
"No," Bagath whispered, as he started to re-gain his bearings. "I sensed... no, I saw pain. A mass of fire, growing out of control. I saw a hundred million souls flee from it in vain... I could hear them cry out..." he began to shake.
Cherry held him close.
"Don't think about it," she said, soothing him as best she could. She thought for a moment, then realized what he must have sensed: a rip in the Prime Material Plane, so large that it created an expanding gate to the Elemental Plane of fire.
"This means they failed, doesn't it?" Bagath asked.
Cherry nodded slowly. While guiding his injured wife through the ethereal pathways, Bagath had seen, for a few minutes, the destruction of an entire crystal sphere. He had seen the death of Omnispace. This meant that the crew of the Eternal Wanderer had failed to stop the necromancer Colicor, and that the mad arcane had won this first battle.
As they started their way to the village, both could only hope that somehow their friends had escaped in time.
Elsewhere, a strange, glowing ball of soft light traveled through the Wildspace of Solaris at incredible speed. The avangion named Darran Koor had been frantically touring the sphere to determine how extensive Montrazar's tentacles had extended. While the situation was indeed grave—Montrazar had agents all over the sphere, and Te-Ess'Arr had another horrible plan in the works—things were not as bad as they could have been.
Darran Koor had his precious spell books with him. Eight centuries ago he had left them with Monitor of Omnispace for safe keeping. He knew they would never survive the trip to Athaspace, so he left them with one of the few people he could trust. At that time the stars were filled with wars and social strife. While things looked more peaceful now, he could sense the tension just below the surface.
At least there was still time. Before going into hiding on Athas the Nimar had created a special key, and spread four of its pieces around the known spheres. The remaining piece went with him to Athas. Now, all five of the pieces were found, and four of them were on Cartania. While traveling around the sphere, he spotted a tradesman entering the sphere, and it carried the fifth piece. For the moment, things looked good. Montrazar hadn't undone every precaution that Darran Koor had made.
The Avangion continued toward Cartania.
Elsewhere, on a desolate, lifeless plane that appeared to go on forever, a lone figure stood atop a rise. His body looked like a skeleton, and eyes were tiny pools of white light.
The lich, known as Montrazar, looked at the dark sky before him. He had sensed the Avangion when it entered the sphere. It was like sensing the flutter of a moth as it flew by. No doubt, Montrazar thought, Darran Koor knows I am here as well. This fact didn't matter to the lich. It was inevitable. Nine hundred years before he had set out to conquer the entire sphere of Solaris. So intent was he on this task that he continued to strive for it... even after Darran Koor and the rest of the Nimar had been forced to kill him.
Most of the Nimar foolishly thought that Montrazar was no more, but Darran Koor, that young maverick, thought otherwise. When the others accepted exile on the great Spelljammer, Darran Koor stayed behind. Somehow he knew that Montrazar would return and resume his quest, so he made provisions for his eventual return to Solaris.
His return had now arrived, and Montrazar was waiting for him.
Can you hear me, Darran Koor? the lich thought.
Yes, a voice answered. I can hear you; I can sense you.
Are you prepared to settle this at last?
Yes, Montrazar, I'm ready.
So am I, Darran Koor.
