The Maelstroms Eye (6 page)

For the first time in weeks, General Vorr felt like laughing, out it was entirely too much effort.

“You’re late,” he said. “Just clean this place up.”

*****

“You’re late,” Fleet Admiral Halker said with the trace of a smile, “but I understand you were busy.”

“It’s over with, sir.” In newly cleaned armor. General Vorr bowed and stood at attention before his superior’s cluttered desk. His arm had healed, but his shoulder still burned from the poisoned axe; he ignored it. “Two other guerrilla groups came in with the assassin team, directed at the prisoners’ barracks and the war priests’ armory, but all have been neutralized. We’ve taken only light casualties. Four ogres and seventeen scro died at the armory, and eight scro and eleven orcs at the barracks, among them a war priest on the torture team for the day. Our wizard Usso destroyed those attacking the armory, then assisted with mopping up those who had attacked me.”

“The vermin of Spiral still have some fight in them, then,” the old admiral said with some surprise, leaning back in his cushioned chair. He scratched at the thick gray fur on the head of the worg that sat at his side; the huge wolf panted, eyes closed in pleasure. “Any idea of where they came from, their main base?”

“None, sir. All those who personally fought me are dead now. The war priests will interrogate their spirits within the next few hours. I’ll have them see you for their reports.”

The admiral nodded absently. His heavy black robes shook as he patted the worg’s head, the red spider emblem across his chest partially hidden in the folds of cloth. “I take it that there were no survivors among the other groups of intruders?” he said wistfully, with a pale gleam in his green eyes.

“Two, sir, from the group at the prisoners’ barracks. They’re conscious and ready for interrogation.”

“Ah.” The old scro gave a toothless smile, his snout wrinkling with satisfaction. “It is always good to have a chance to chat with the enemy. I will enjoy my work this evening, once we’ve settled things with our other visitors. Speaking of which, the one in command of the ziggurat is here now. He claims to have an interesting proposal for us.”

Vorr bit back on his next remark. This must have been visible to the admiral, as the old scro waved a lazy hand. “Speak freely. The room is sealed with lead mesh, and no one can spy on us here, or so Usso has informed me. The pyramid ship’s commander is in the waiting room with a few of his bodyguards – under our own guard, of course. The war priests are monitoring him – or it – for spying spells and such. I’d like to have Usso here, but he seems to have business elsewhere.” The general took a deep breath. “Sir, pyramid ships are usually controlled by undead humans. I was involved in a boarding action against one in the Glowrings Sphere, before I came to this fleet. A lich in command there destroyed seventy-two boarders just by itself. Other pyramid ships are reported to be commanded by others of the living dead, working together to bring about an empire of the dead throughout wild-space. I advise the greatest caution in dealing with whatever being claims to command that ship. I put my marines on full alert because of it.”

The old scro nodded again, his lips sucking in over his hardened gums. “Our visitor then lacks subtlety, General, as he has already revealed himself to be a lich, of human origin. He claims not to threaten us and further claims to know the location of, as he says, ‘a treasure to fight for gladly you will.’ His speech is curious, probably archaic. Anyway, he’s said nothing about undead empires so far.”

The admiral was lost in thought. His flat, yellow-green face lacked the scars that marked many other military leaders, but Admiral Halker had climbed the ranks with his own kind of power, rooted in magic, charisma, and a genteel sadism that made even other scro uncomfortable. He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood. The worg licked its lips and watched, then settled down to lie on the floor. Halker adjusted his belted black robes, belt weapons, wheel-lock firearm, and magical paraphernalia, pampering his appearance. “Unless you have any objections, General,” he said, motioning to the door, “let’s go downstairs and see our guest to discuss this ‘treasure to fight for.’ “The admiral then looked up quizzically at his imposing subordinate. “Purely out of curiosity, how did your boarding force deal with that lich in the Glowrings Sphere?”

Vorr looked him in the eye. “I killed it,” he said. The admiral stared at him a moment, then laughed. “Of course! Forgive my asking. You’re a dream come true.”

Being here is a dream come true for me, too, Vorr thought as he agreed modestly and headed for the door. I thought I’d never get away from the hell pit I grew up in. Sometimes, though, I’ve wondered if there wasn’t a reason for things to be as bad as they were early on – a reason to suffer blow after blow, breathing the heavy fumes from Father’s breath, or lying awake with Mother’s demon-haunted shrieks ringing in my ears. I was already at the bottom of the pile for having a low-born orcish father and an insane ogre for a mother. I had to kill three scro before they would let me into their military school, no matter that I was stronger than any of them had ever been and healed ten times as fast. The Troll, they called me, and laughed – but rarely to my face. Then they discovered that I was immune to magic and poison, too. After that, they let me do anything and said nothing about it.

So, maybe there
was
a reason for things to be as they were. I’ve fought all my life, but I’m stronger now for what I’ve withstood. My own parents could not break me when I was helpless before them, but they were helpless enough later when I came home from military school and killed them.

The admiral had finished speaking as they reached the door. Vorr had no idea what the old scro had just said. It didn’t really matter.

“Shall we be off, sir?” Vorr asked politely, opening the door ad stepping aside.

Chapter Three

“You may go in,” said the elven guard politely, opening the door before Teldin’s astonished eyes.

Teldin had no idea of what to say in return. He had prepared himself for an argument or for the kind of disdainful dismissal that he had once received from an old elf on whose ship Teldin had sought passage, many months ago on distant Krynn. But the guard had merely listened impassively when Teldin had asked for an audience with representatives of the Imperial Fleet, thought for a moment, then … Saying nothing, Teldin walked carefully through the door.

There was bright light beyond the front door of the elves’ embassy building, bright enough to remind Teldin of daylight. Brushing against the doorjamb was a sword-leaf plant, waving in a breeze from inside. Elves must like house plants, thought Teldin, a moment before he realized that in walking through the doorway, he had stepped into a clearing in a forest. In shock. Teldin looked around and saw a brilliant golden sun in a clear blue sky above and a wall of tall pines encircling the clearing, which was perhaps a hundred feet across. Elves in pale robes stood in the clearing, a short distance away, but Teldin hardly noticed them. Tall grasses and plants brushed his trousers. A cool breeze, laden with the smell of fresh earth, wildflowers, and evergreen trees, caressed his face.

He whirled around, looking for the door, but instead stared straight into a flat rock face a dozen feet high.

Momentarily panicked, Teldin put his hands against the cool rock, searching for an exit. The rock was hard and rough and solid. It looked as if it had been there forever.

“Teldin Moore,” said an even, strong voice behind him, “you have come a long way to find us.”

Teldin turned quickly, his blue cloak whispering around his legs. There were five elves in the clearing with him, standing in random places in the knee-high grass. The closest one was thirty feet away, a male who came up to Teldin’s chin. He had thick, autumn-brown hair, the color of rich, polished wood, and a richly embroidered robe of pale gold and white.

Teldin wondered if he was being toyed with, and the spur of anger got him going. “I am looking for the Imperial Fleet,” he said, his voice not as strong as he would have liked. “I need advice.”

“We are with the fleet,” said the elf simply, looking at Teldin with clear gray eyes. A slight breeze passed through the clearing, rocking the daffodils and grass tops.

Teldin risked one more look behind him at the rock face, then turned back and cleared his throat. “I was told that I should find the fleet … you, that is, by one Vallus Leafbower, an elf who was the helmsman for a ship I’ve been traveling on.” Teldin stopped, frowning. “How did you know my name?”

“Did you not identify yourself to the watch at the door?” said the brown-haired elf. Teldin couldn’t tell if the elf was serious or making fun of him.

“Yes, I …” Teldin hesitated. They must use magic to spy on people at the door, he realized. It made sense. “You just caught me off guard,” he finished. “You said you were with the Imperial Fleet? I might be a little suspicious, but —”

“We are with the fleet,” repeated the elf calmly. “I am Uliananor Cirathorn, Admiral of the Sphere.” The elf gestured behind him at the other figures in the clearing, never taking his eyes from Teldin. “With me is my personal staff. You have our full attention, Teldin Moore.”

Teldin eyed his surroundings again, noticing that two of the admiral’s staff were women. “I want to know where we are,” he said.

“We are still on the Rock of Bral, in a safe place,” said the elf. “Our magic protects us. You will not come to harm here, and your words are held in secrecy.” Cirathorn raised his chin slightly. “If you have something important to tell us, please do so now.”

Teldin swallowed, feeling out of his depth and feeling some resentment, too, at being told what to do. He knew the admiral had a point, though. He had wasted enough time with that kender earlier, and he was wasting it now. He debated about where to start. There was so much to tell.

“I am being hunted by the neogi, among others, because of the cloak I am wearing,” Teldin began. He felt a little more confident now, but he had no idea if the elves would even care to help him. “The neogi have murdered many people to get this cloak, and I don’t know why. I need some kind of advice on what this cloak is and what it’s supposed to do. And I want to know why the neogi want it so much. Vallus said that you – I mean, the elves – had made this, so you might know of it.” The elf’s gaze dropped to take in the bright blue cloak that waved in the faint breeze. “What do you already know of this garment?”

“Not a lot,” confessed Teldin. He considered describing its powers, but it was a little early to spill everything he knew. “It’s magical.”

“Magical …” The elf put a slight emphasis on this word. “We need more, Teldin Moore.” Showing no reaction to his near pun, the admiral became expectantly silent, looking into Teldin’s eyes with mild impatience.

Teldin gave up. He’d never get anywhere unless he told all. Or almost all – he still wanted to keep some of the cloak’s powers a secret, like its ability to change his shape. Sometimes it was a good idea to have a few secrets left.

“The cloak has a strange history, and I’ve been swept along with it,” Teldin said. “A reigar woman handed it to me as she died, her spelljammer burning on the ruins of my home and farm on Krynn ….” He went on, telling a much-shortened version of the tale of his journey with the cloak. It still took about twenty minutes to get it all out. He hadn’t always been good with stories, but a story was all he had to offer.

As he spoke, Teldin watched the elves for their reactions. Several of the robed elves in the background gradually moved closer, their alert faces showing considerable interest. Admiral Cirathorn, on the other hand, merely watched and listened. When Teldin told the theory of the mind flayer Estriss, that whoever made the cloak had also built the enormous and legendary spelljamming ship called the
Spelljammer,
a muscle twitched in the elven admiral’s cheek. Teldin guessed that this revelation might be the key he needed to get the elves’ help, for good or for ill. Indeed, the admiral moved closer after that point, though he came no nearer than two dozen feet. Paranoia, perhaps, thought Teldin, but he didn’t blame them. They were military people, after all.

Teldin finished his story with his arrival on the Rock of Bral, leaving out only his meeting with the kender, Gaye. He paused, then added, “I have little to offer you for your help, but the lives of many depend on what I do about this cloak.” Now it was his turn to wait. He was not accustomed to speaking for so long, and he felt drained. His throat hurt, too. If the elves turned him away, he decided, he would simply leave and find help elsewhere – but he didn’t know where.

“You came to us,” said Cirathorn, breaking the silence, “because one of our people directed you to us. It is known among our people that a meeting with the staff of the Imperial Fleet is not a light matter. There are many of our people who would go to any length to avoid it, preferring to administer their own solutions to matters, whether we approved or not. Why would this Vallus Leafbower have sent you here? What did he think we could do to help you, Teldin Moore?”

Teldin blinked in astonishment. “I haven’t the faintest idea what he thought you could do!” he snapped, feeling his self-control slip away. “Didn’t you hear what I said? The neogi want this cloak! They’ve slaughtered more people for it than I can count, and they’re determined to have me dead as well.” Stirred by his anger, Teldin reached up and undid the button loops on his shirt front, exposing his bare chest – and the dozens of deep, fiery-red scars that crisscrossed it. The eyes of several elves widened with horror.

“I got these from the neogi,” Teldin spat. “I was on their meat tables. I’ve escaped from mercenaries, draconians, and pirates. I’ve been attacked and betrayed because of this cloak, and I’ve seen dozens of people slain for it. The neogi said that if they got this cloak, they could destroy or enslave worlds with its powers – elven worlds among them, I would think. I don’t know what you can do for me, but you could do a lot more for me and for your people than you are doing now.”