The Radiant Dragon (10 page)

An elven warrior crept slowly behind the monster.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
His grandfather’s words rang in Teldin’s mind, Whether the homily was true or not, Teldin saw in the enormous insect his only hope of keeping the cloak away from the illithid slavers.

“Behind you!’ he bellowed, pointing with his sword toward the elf. Teldin charged toward the insect creature, not sure what he could do to help it.

He needn’t have bothered. Even as his lips formed the warning, the monstrous insect kicked backward. Its heel spur sliced up and into its attacker, and the elf slumped to the deck clutching at his spilling entrails. Two more elven slaves rushed the creature from the side. A quick thrust of the halberd beheaded one, and the monster drove a spiked fist into the other elf’s midsection. No,
through
his midsection, Teldin amended with horror. He skidded to a stop, just short of tripping over one of the fallen slaves.

With one movement, the monster wrenched its hand free of the dead elf’s body and backhanded another attacker. A spike on the creature’s forearm sliced open the elf’s throat. Teldin caught a sickening glimpse of bone and gristle as the elf slumped backward into death in a pool of his own blood.

At that moment another illithid charged on to the deck, a curved knife in one three-fingered hand. It stopped dead, staring with disbelief at the seemingly invincible insect.

Bionoid!

The illithid’s mental shout was broadcasted to everyone on the deck.
Aim for the crystal eye,
it commanded the slaves, then it let the knife fly.

Teldin felt the now-familiar magic of the cloak wash over him. Time altered, and the battle slowed to a grim choreography. He saw Netarza’s curved knife somersault lazily toward the monster’s glowing crystal eye. With unassailable clarity, Teldin knew that he must save the insect creature. He ran and leaped as high as he could, thrusting his sword into the knife’s path. There was a short, ringing sound as steel met steel, and bright blue sparks flared against the purple light. Teldin landed on his feet in a crouch, and the knife fell harmlessly aside.

The illithid spun toward Teldin, tentacles flailing with rage. It drew a dagger and advanced. The dracons charged forward with astonishing speed and placed themselves between Teldin and their former clan member, blocking the attack as effectively as two avenging green golems. Chirp swung his ax, and a tentacle flew to the deck. The dracon continued to swing, and Teldin was not unhappy that Trivit’s huge green body obscured the view.

An agonized shriek tore through Teldin’s mind; near the head of the stairs lay a frenzied illithid, writhing and clutching at its head. Standing over it was Estriss. He sprung on his victim with the speed of a striking lizard, and his facial tentacles closed over the illithid’s skull in preparation for a grizzly feast. The horror and disgust Teldin expected to feel at this act of cannibalism simply did not register. His preternatural clarity of mind kept him focused on the battle, and the only thing that seemed to matter was the female elf creeping up behind Estriss.

Suddenly Teldin’s doubts and ambivalence concerning Estriss seemed as distant as a childhood memory. Without hesitation, he shouted a warning as he sped toward his friend. The elf’s dagger fell in a slow, gleaming arc, and even the cloak’s time-altering magic could not move Teldin across the deck in time to save the illithid. The blade bit deeply into Estriss’s shoulder, releasing a flood of pale, pinkish ichor.

Estriss slumped forward over the dead illithid. A grisly, gray tidbit from his feast slid down the length of a limp tentacle and puddled on the wooden deck. With an blank smile, the enslaved elf raised her dagger again.

Teldin lunged toward Estriss, sword held low before him. A sharp clang rang out, and the dagger thrust aimed at the illithid’s spine slid harmlessly aside. The force of Teldin’s parry threw the elven warrior off balance, and she stumbled and fell to one knee.

The elf was back on her feet with a speed that seemed remarkable even to Teldin’s altered perception. Drawing a short, curved sword, the slave attacked. Teldin stood his ground, though he had little doubt that the elven warrior was far beyond his ability. Only the cloak’s magic allowed him to parry the dazzling onslaught of blows she showered upon him.

From the comer of his eye Teldin saw a long green tail arching toward his opponent. The dracons again! Teldin parried one last blow, then flung himself aside. As he rolled out of range, he heard the ringing
thwack
of impact. The force of Chirp’s blow sent the elven woman tumbling across the deck. Trivit’s broadsword thrust downward, neatly stopping the elf’s slide by pinning her to the deck. With an uncharacteristic lack of ceremony, the dracon stomped on the fallen slave. The dracons nodded crisply to each other and moved on, working in tandem with a sort of grim efficiency. Using their whiplike tails, enormous swords, and even their teeth, they kept the illithids’ slaves away from Teldin.

Feeling safe for the moment, Teldin dropped to his knees and bent over Estriss. The illithid was alive. Relief washed through Teldin, and the intense focus of battle began to slip away. His senses shifted and swam, shrinking and condensing into the focus of his normal time perception.

Dimly aware of a clicking sound coming toward him,

Teldin looked up. His eyes widened in purest horror. The insect creature loomed over him. Its armored body shimmered faintly in the dim light, and the lethal blades on its hands, arms, and head dripped blood. At close quarters, the monster was terrifying. Worse, it began to reach down toward Estriss. The creature had fought alongside the
Valkyries
crew, but for all Teldin knew it might have a taste for illithid flesh.

Teldin struggled to his feet and stood over the fallen body of his friend. As he crouched in a defensive position and raised his sword, he frantically tried to summon the cloak’s battle magic. The clarity and focus would not come; it was gone beyond recall.

“It’s all right, sir,” said the creature in a soft, familiar voice.

Shock hit Teldin like a blow. His sword fell from his suddenly numb hand and clattered unheeded to the deck. “Hectate?” he whispered, not wanting to believe.

The insect monster inclined its head. To Teldin’s numbed senses, the creature’s acknowledgment seemed to hold a deep sadness. With a gentleness Teldin had always associated with Hectate Kir, the creature stooped and gathered Estriss in its enormous, armor-plated arms.

“Time to leave, sir,” it said in Hectate’s voice.

“Leave?” Teldin echoed numbly. The monster swiveled its head so that its main eyes looked out over the starboard rail. Teldin followed the gesture and recoiled in shock. Another ship, even stranger than the drakkar, had joined the battle.

A series of grappling hooks connected the dark man-o-war to an enormous, spacebound swan. Elven warriors slid down the lines from the swan ship, immediately engaging the illithid’s slaves in fierce battle.

There be is! Get him. Get the cloak,
demanded a dark, feminine voice. Teldin spun to see Netarza leading a group of elven warriors. An elf with skin like polished obsidian responded by throwing back his arm. One moment, purple light glinted off the steel in his hand, the next, Teldin staggered back from the force of the impact. Bright pain exploded in his left hip. He reached down and felt the hilt of the knife flush with his skin and the blade grating against bone.

Through the pain, Teldin dimly noted that the insect with Hectate’s voice had deposited Estriss on the deck. It turned to meet the attack. The heavy armor that shielded its chest parted, and two plates folded back to reveal glowing red membranes that vibrated with power. A flash of bright energy burst from the creature’s chest, blinding Teldin with its intensity as it hurtled like a shooting star toward the band of slaves. It hit the warriors with a burst of light and fire.

Heavy black smoke, fetid with the smell of death, roiled back toward Teldin and his strange companions. It surrounded them in a suffocating cloud, and Teldin sank to his knees beside Estriss, coughing and choking. As he struggled to hold on to his ebbing consciousness, Teldin was dimly aware that Hectate – the
real
Hectate Kir – was sprawled beside him, his elven face as pale as death. Teldin had little doubt that Hectate’s fate soon would be his: the cloak’s magic had drained his energy, and he was losing too much blood from the knife wound. Teldin could no longer feel the deck under his knees. He was floating, weightless, into a place of darkness and warmth ….

“Teldin Moore.”

Strong, slender arms caught him as he fell. A familiar voice shouted orders in Elvish. Teldin summoned every vestige of his remaining strength and willed his fading senses back into focus. With a mixture of relief and dismay, he pulled himself away and looked into the face of his elven rescuer.

Even in his weakened state, Teldin could not accept the possibility that this rescue was a coincidence.

The insignia of a ship’s captain adorned the elf’s Imperial Fleet uniform, and his slanted green eyes were hooded, as unreadable as ever. This time, however, Teldin had no doubt about what this elf wanted.

Vallus Leafbower had returned for the cloak.

Chapter Five

“I’m not dead yet,” Teldin informed the elf with as much vehemence as he could muster. Anger coursed through his veins, deadening his pain and renewing his resolve. If the elves once again hoped to take the cloak off his dead body, they were in for one more disappointment. By Paladine, Teldin vowed as he struggled to his feet, he’d live just to spite the pointy-eared bastards.

Despite the surge of energy his anger lent him, the effort was too much for Teldin, and a fresh stab of agony tore through his wounded side. Gasping through gritted teeth, he fell back to his knees, pushing away the elf’s steadying hands.

Vallus Leafbower grimaced and shook his silver-haired head. “Perhaps you’re not yet dead, Teldin Moore, but you soon
will
be if your wounds are not tended.” The elf looked up and raised on hand in a quick, imperious gesture. Five uniformed elves hurried to his side. “Get this man aboard the swan ship and take him to the healer,” Vallus directed them.

Two of the elves started to do Vallus’s bidding, but something in Teldin’s eyes stopped them. “I’ll see you in the Abyss first,” he told Vallus coldly.

“That is a distinct possibility,” the elf returned with equal warmth. “The man-o-war is burning, and I will not leave you behind. If you don’t let us help you, we’re all dead.”

“But the battle —”

“Is over,” Vallus concluded firmly.

Teldin hesitated, listening. The battle sounds had dwindled to a few scattered clangs, a few faint moans. Smoke billowed up from the stairwell, and a faint, ominous crackling came from beneath the deck. “Take me to the
Valkyrie,
then,” Teldin said resignedly.

“The illithid’s wizard slaves hit the drakkar with a barrage of spells.” Vallus’s flat tone and steady gaze made it clear that Teldin’s ship was gone.

“And the crew?” Teldin demanded, not able to take it all in. Vallus turned to one of the other elves and raised his silver eyebrows in inquiry.

“A small longboat got away before the drakkar exploded. We took the survivors aboard the
Trumpeter,”
the elf reported.

Dread filled Teldin. “Some of my crew boarded the man-o-war. Have any survived?”

“I’m sorry,” Vallus said gently.

Teldin slumped, despairing. More deaths tallied on his slate, all due to the cloak. Whatever the
Spelljammer
might be, it couldn’t be worth this.

The elf rose to his feet. “Come.”

He had no choice but to go with the elves, Teldin realized. He nodded dully, numb to the core. “Take Estriss first. His wounds are worse than mine.”

“Estriss?” Vallus echoed in disbelief. The elf squinted through the smoke at the crumpled form beside Teldin, then with a cry of recognition he dropped to his knees beside his former captain. Gently turning the unconscious illithid over, Vallus bent to peer into the empty white eyes. “Barely alive,” he murmured distractedly. He looked up at the other elves, who had formed a tight, curious circle around him. “Take these two to the swan ship, now,” he commanded.

As Vallus spoke, another sharp-edged perception penetrated the pain and anger that clouded Teldin’s mind:

Vallus’s concern and distress were genuine. For the first time, Teldin wondered whether his harsh judgment of the elven wizard was warranted.

Two of the elven warriors exchanged glances. “Take a
mind flayer
aboard?” one of them ventured.

Vallus was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Now!” he thundered. The elves hastily lifted the wounded illithid and headed for the flitter that had landed on the
Nightstalker’s
deck.

As gentle hands lifted Teldin to his feet, a faint groan came from the deck and the waxen figure of Teldin’s navigator stirred. Hectate Kir was alive.

“The half-elf!” Teldin demanded weakly, clinging to what he knew about his friend. “You have to bring the half-elf.”

“Why not?” one of the elves grumbled, looking on with distaste as a comrade hoisted the unconscious Hectate over his shoulder. “We might as well complete our collection of oddities.”

“That’s enough, Gaston,” Vallus snapped. Before he could say more, the dracons thundered around the corner. Trivit, as usual, was in the lead. He drew up short when he saw Teldin, and Chirp bumped heavily into him.

“Siripsotrivitus reporting, Captain Teldin Moore, sir,” Trivit announced in his fluting, formal cadences as he snapped off a salute. “The illithid slaves have been routed, though I must say we’ve had a beastly time telling one elf from another. Some few of the illithids and their slaves escaped in flitters, but Chiripsian and I have dispatched all those who remained on board.” The dracon paused, and his lower lip trembled. “As you know, sir, the illithids deceived us. We are … without a clan.”

Remembering what Estriss had said about the dracons’ clan mentality, Teldin suspected what was coming next. Sure enough, Trivit drew his sword and raised it in a salute, then he laid it on the deck before Teldin.