'I know my destiny now. I know why the cloak called to me. I know why it came to me, why I left Krynn to seek my fate among the spheres.'
The others watched him curiously, waiting. 'Djan, you call it verenthestae. I don't know what to call it, but I am supposed to be here. I am supposed to be on the Spelljammer. This is what my life has been all about, and I never even realized.' He held up a length of his cloak. 'This is the Cloak of the First Pilot-the first pilot of the Spelljammer itself. It is an ultimate helm… it is the Ultimate Helm, created at the same time as the Spelljammer and somehow eternally intertwined with its destiny. It is the helm of the first pilot, and-' He stopped. 'It is my helm.
His voice grew lower, more determined. 'This is mine, truly mine-and with it, I have to accept my destiny.
'No more war. No more blood, no more hate. This is a chance for life, for me. And I-'
He paused, looking at each one of them in turn. 'I never dared to believe it. I'm not sure I believe it even now, even though I know it in here.' He placed his hand over his heart, over the amulet.
Softly, the Cloakmaster told them. 'I… am to be the next pilot of the Spelljammer. This is my destiny.
'I am to be the next-'
His words were forgotten as two events occurred simultaneously. The Spelljammer shuddered violently beneath their feet, and the thunderous sound of some collision with the Spelljammer echoed through the hole in the doors.
'It seems the war has finally come to us,' Teldin said. 'The fleets have arrived.'
He started toward the doors, then halted abruptly. He bent over in silent pain, and the warriors rushed to him as he sank to his knees.
They watched as Teldin opened his arms. The amulet glowed from within, and his chest pulsated with an inner light, casting a warm glow upon the ashen floor. He clutched his hand to the amulet. 'Not now,' he said. 'Not now.'
Cloakmaster? Estriss inquired.
Teldin looked up. Their eyes met, and Teldin's pain was reflected in the mind flayer's silence.
His chest sizzled with inner fire. He looked down. The insignia, the design that was his link to the Spelljammer, was glowing again on his chest.
The sign… Estriss said. He clasped Teldin's arm. It's calling you again. You will have to answer the Compass soon, or it will consume you. Estriss paused to catch his breath. You must follow its feelings, its strengths. It will lead you to the adytum.
The Spelljammer shook again. Ash fell upon the party from the tower's tallest shelves.
'The war for the Spelljammer begins in earnest now,' Teldin began to rail. 'Cwelanas must be rescued. And now I must answer the Spelljammer's summons. This is more than one man can do!'
'Teldin,' Djan said calmly. 'This is your destiny. Like it or not, you are the Cloakmaster, and you must choose-soon.'
Teldin knew he could not abandon Cwelanas. He had come too far to lose his love, his faith, without fighting for her as hard as he could. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. Where is she? How do I find her?
A voice rang in his ears, and he saw a face-a head- speaking to him tonelessly… He has taken the woman into the elven veins, and you will not find her…
'The warrens,' he said. The burning in his chest throbbed with the beating of his heart. 'There is an entrance to the warrens somewhere in the Elven High Command.'
He stood and started slowly for the door. 'Damn the war. Cwelanas comes first. The Spelljammer can defend itself for the moment. Cwelanas needs my help more than-'
He spun around as though he had been kicked. His chest glowed with a hot fire, and the amulet seemed to be a brand, searing itself into his flesh. The pattern blazed through his tunic, shining with the light of an ancient, three-pointed star.
Then he pitched forward onto the blackened floor.
CassaRoc rolled him over. 'Teldin!' he shouted. 'Teldin!'
But Teldin could hear only the call of the Spelljammer.
The call came to him powerfully, overriding all neural synapses and conscious thought in one immeasurable burst of energy. It came to him in images and in bits of words. Sounds. Emotions. Sensations that resembled taste and touch and smell.
Above all, there was the yearning, the need.
— Lonely!
He wanted to shake his head, to deny his guilt. He had not meant to ignore the call, but it was all happening so fast, and Cwelanas needed him, and he didn't know — Where are you?
Here! he shouted in his mind. Here!
— Come, it said, tugging at his mind, his emotions, his very being.
Where? he implored. Where?
In a blaze of light, it showed him.
He stood naked in the shadow of the Spelljammer's great tail. He smelled the stench of death from the neogi tower, then saw the light from the flow play like gold fire along the towers across the Spelljammer's back. It concentrated in a yellow pinpoint within the stem of the ship's tail, above the Dark Tower. The glow pulsated like a beating heart, like the burning tattoo upon his chest, and he realized the route he must take to achieve his ultimate destiny.
— Worthy? he felt.
Yes, he said.
— Need! it cried, and a part of him cried out with it.
— Finish!
— Complete!
— Create…!
His eyes blinked and adjusted to the real time inside the neogi tower. CassaRoc had slapped him. 'What happened?' he wondered aloud.
'You passed out,' Djan said.
'I know,' Teldin said. 'I know.' He clasped Djan's arm. 'Don't you understand? Now I know. I know. I know how to get to the adytum. I know what I must do.'
They helped him stand. He placed his hands upon Cassa-Roc's and Na'Shee's shoulders. 'The Spelljammer is calling me. It needs me.'
He looked into their eyes, almost pleading. He did not want to go. Cwelanas was trapped in a hideaway of Coh, or the Fool, and her life depended on him.
But the amulet-no, the ship-was calling, and part of him answered willingly, as though he belonged here. And he knew he had no choice.
'The war is going to have to wait. I have to get to the adytum. May the gods forgive me, but I must answer the Spelljammer's summons.. now. I pray that Cwelanas will not be lost to me again.'
Chapter Twenty-Three
'… The call will be stronger than that of even the sirens. It will burn in the challenger's heart, answering the challenger's own need with a call of its own. ' Their need, in reality, is one…'
The Spelljammer was a landscape of battle, of splattered blood and clashing steel. The beholders and their allies had commenced fighting across the mighty vessel, engaging their foes in surprise attacks that left the decks slick with fresh blood. But their enemies were faster than they, and the beholders found themselves on the
