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.
“Kaba,” Trivit said simply, but his reptilian eyes pleaded.
The dracons had adopted him as their clan leader! Teldin’s frustration bordered on despair. Would there be no end to the responsibility he was forced to assume? He took a deep, calming breath, knowing that if he did not accept this role, the adrift dracons would die.
Teldin challenged Vallus with his eyes. “They come,” he said evenly, then he turned to glare at the elf named Gaston, the one who had spoken slightingly of Hectate. The elf raised both hands in rueful surrender.
A deep boom began in the hold of the Nightstalker, echoing throughout the ship. The man-o-war was breaking up.
“Time to go,” Vallus said abruptly. As the elves half-carried Teldin to the flitter, he found himself thinking about Netarza and wondering whether he had heard the last from the mind flayers of Falx.
*****
Vallus Leafbower watched the unconscious human with deep concern. Three days had elapsed since the battle with
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.
“Kaba,” Trivit said simply, but his reptilian eyes pleaded.
The dracons had adopted him as their clan leader! Teldin’s frustration bordered on despair. Would there be no end to the responsibility he was forced to assume? He took a deep, calming breath, knowing that if he did not accept this role, the adrift dracons would die.
Teldin challenged Vallus with his eyes. “They come,” he said evenly, then he turned to glare at the elf named Gaston, the one who had spoken slightingly of Hectate. The elf raised both hands in rueful surrender.
A deep boom began in the hold of the Nightstalker, echoing throughout the ship. The man-o-war was breaking up.
“Time to go,” Vallus said abruptly. As the elves half-carried Teldin to the flitter, he found himself thinking about Netarza and wondering whether he had heard the last from the mind flayers of Falx.
*****
Vallus Leafbower watched the unconscious human with deep concern. Three days had elapsed since the battle with
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