The Broken Sphere s-5

by Nigel Findley

  Then it was over. The power of the cloak faded, and Teldin was completely himself again-not the ship, just a very battered and bruised human being. With, a groan, he forced himself to his feet and looked around him.

  The squid ship had torn a furrow right across the soft meadow, and had come to a stop only a short dagger cast from the trees on the far side. A couple of seconds later in pushing the bow down, Teldin realized, and they'd have slammed into those heavy trunks.

  Apart from the missing ram, the squid ship looked relatively undamaged from Teldin's vantage point on the after-deck. But that was an illusion, he knew. As his enhanced perception had faded, he'd felt the keel snap, and felt the heavy planking of the lower hull stave in as though it had no more strength than an eggshell. The Boundless was dead, without some kind of miracle, and Teldin wasn't expecting any miracle any time soon.

  He was alive, though, as were Julia, Lucinus, and Djan. The half-elf was bleeding from a nasty gash in his left eyebrow, but didn't seem to notice. As Lucinus and Julia-both looking battered and bruised, but not seriously injured-disentangled themselves from each other and the forward railing, Djan took up his familiar position by the speaking tube. "Report," he called down to Blossom.

  After listening for a moment, he looked up at Teldin and gave a tired smile. "Heavy damage," he reported, "lots of minor injuries, but nothing major. Amazing." He shook his head. "I thought we were all dead. That was the most amazing piece of ship-handling I've ever seen."

  Teldin looked away, embarrassed. "We should check out the damage," he said briskly, to change the subject. "Djan, Julia?"

  Both officers followed the Cloakmaster down the ladder to the main deck, then down one more flight to the cargo deck. The hold was filled with acrid smoke, which was only now starting to dissipate. At least the fires were all out,

  Teldin saw.

  He crouched by the hole the magical bolt had smashed in the deck. Roughly circular, it was almost a man's height in diameter. As he looked down into it he could see an even larger hole in the hull planking below. He shook his head, looking up at Djan. "What was this?" he asked quietly.

  The half-elf was silent for a moment. "I've never seen anything like it," he admitted at last. "The magical power involved was… well, it was staggering. Most attack spells I'm familiar with have ranges measured in hundreds of yards. What was our altitude when we were struck? Fifteen leagues? Twenty?"

  "Something like that," Teldin agreed.

  "Then I take back any sarcastic comments I made about the impossibility of world-altering magic," Djan announced dryly. "If your Juna were trying to convince me of their existence, I think they should consider the point made."

  "Was it the Juna?" Julia asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

  Teldin didn't answer immediately. What was it that the elves at the embassy on the Rock of Bral had told him? That the ruins of the "Star Folk's" works are sometimes guarded with magic so powerful and old that it's lost its meaning, and now strikes out in its madness at all who trespass? It was something like that, even though he couldn't recall the exact words. And that could well describe what had happened to the Boundless. "I don't know," he admitted. "Perhaps. Or perhaps we triggered something mindless that they left behind."

  "How can we find out?" Julia pressed.

  "I'd guess these Juna will make it clear to us if they actually exist," Djan answered. "Not that I'm overly enthusiastic about meeting creatures who can fire fifteen-league-long bolts and cause mini-suns to chase ships out of the sky."

  Teldin shook his head impatiently. Discussions such as this weren't going to do them any good. Whether or not Nex was home to living Juna, the knowledge wouldn't be of any value unless the Cloakmaster could get off-planet again and act on the knowledge, would it? And that would require a functional ship.

  "I'm going down into the bilges," he announced. "Can someone give me a light?"

  *****

  "Can it be fixed?" Teldin asked.

  Teldin, Djan, and Julia were sitting in the Cloakmaster's cabin. Although the squid ship had come down on a fairly even keel, the cant to the deck was enough to be irritating. The small oil lamp suspended by chains from the overhead didn't hang straight, and when he leaned back in his chair, Teldin kept thinking he was on the verge of going over backward. Overhead the Cloakmaster could hear the crew moving about, working on repairing the peripheral damage that the rigging had taken. Wasted effort, he thought glumly, unless we can do something about the hull and the keel.

  "The hull, yes," Djan replied at once. "The bow took a fiend's beating, and then there's the hole farther aft. But still, that's just a matter of patching and reinforcing. I think the ship's next landing would be its last, particularly if we put down on water, but I could guarantee you the hull would handle normal flight… if that were the only problem.

  "Unfortunately, it isn't," the half-elf continued. "You saw the keel, Teldin. It's split right through amidships, almost split just forward of the mainmast, with cracks just about everywhere else." He shrugged. "If the damage was localized to one spot, I'd say let's try strapping it and take our chances. But the way it is now, the moment it's put under any stress-like trying to take off-it's going to shatter into half a dozen pieces."

  "Can we replace it?" Teldin asked-then instantly knew from his comrades' expressions that it was a stupid question.

  "Replacing a keel's not much different than building an entire ship," Julia explained gently. "It takes facilities and resources we just don't have here."

  "The Boundless will never fly again," Djan concluded. "I'd stake my name on it."

  Teldin nodded slowly. He'd suspected as much from the moment he'd lowered himself into the squid ship's bilges. Even to his relatively inexperienced eye, the damage had seemed just too extensive. "You may as well tell the crew to lay off," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Tell them to save their energy for…" For what? he asked himself. For building another ship? Julia had as much as said that was impossible. For making a life here, then?

  As though she could sense his worry and mentally overhear his questions, Julia laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We can think about all this later," she pointed out reasonably. "You're on Nex, where you wanted to be. Don't you want to find out more about it before you start obsessing about getting off-planet again?"

  He met her ironic smile with one of his own. "You're right, of course," he admitted. "Julia, Djan, would you care to join me for a little exploration?"

  *****

  The meadow felt springy and resilient-and undeniably, vibrantly alive-under his feet as Teldin dropped the last couple of feet from the rope ladder. How long has it been since I walked on good, honest grass? he asked himself. How long since I've had fertile earth under my feet, and not ship decks or paved city streets? Far, far too long. He crouched down, ran his fingers over the grass…

  To discover that it wasn't grass, not as he thought of it at least: not single, narrow blades rising out of the earth. Instead, the "grass" here was composed of stalks from which sprouted a dozen tiny branches, each bearing tiny, almost circular leaves. Each plant looked, then, like a miniature tree standing about an inch tall. Still, he told himself, grass is as grass does. This is still a meadow.

  He climbed back to his feet as the rest of the scouting party joined him. Julia and Djan were with him, of course, as was Beth-Abz-in human form, at the Cloakmaster's order. They were accompanied by the half-orc Dargeth, plus another burly crewman, both armed with short swords and slings. The latter three had come along solely on Djan's insistence. It hadn't occurred to Teldin that they'd need any kind of defense. But of course it should have, he chided himself. Someone or something on the planet had tried- multiple times-to blast the Boundless out of space and kill them all, and that someone/something might try again at any moment, regardless of how peaceful this planet looked. Well, with the disguised beholder and two strong sword arms at his back, he felt as well protected as it was pos
sible to be.

  At the moment, though, it was all too easy to forget about the danger. The environment around him was so beautiful, so peaceful. At first glance, the steep-sided gorge could easily be part of a mountain range on Krynn or Toril, and the forest that enshrouded it wouldn't look out of place on any of the other worlds Teldin had visited.

  That was at first glance. On closer inspection, however, there were enough jarring elements to keep the Cloakmaster constantly aware that this world was quite different from any other he'd visited. There was the sky, first of all. The azure blue and pure-white clouds were familiar, but instead of the disk of a normal sun, the light came from half a dozen speeding mini-suns crisscrossing the sky.

  Then, too, there was the forest itself. While speeding above the trees in the stricken squid ship, Teldin had thought they were standard deciduous trees-oaks, perhaps, or maybe larches. Now he could see that they didn't match any tree species he was familiar with… if they could even be called trees at all, he added mentally. In fact, they looked like vastly larger versions of the "grass" plants he'd examined a few moments before. Their overall shape was reminiscent of normal trees, but that was about it. Instead of bark-covered trunks, he could see that the central member of each plant was as green as the leaves were, and much more fibrous-looking. To the touch, however, they felt rock-hard, without even the minuscule give of an old oak. If the Boundless had slammed into those trunks, he knew, the impact would have been the same as if the ship had struck a rock outcropping.

  As he let the sensations wash over him, Teldin had to admit that everything was alien: the strange, sweet-sharp scents of unfamiliar flowers carried by the breeze; the chattering of unseen creatures in the foliage; even the way the grass-tree leaves rustled and clattered as gusts of wind struck them.

  Now, why is this all hitting me so hard? Teldin asked himself. He'd been on new worlds before, worlds more different from Krynn than this place. Why was he so hypersensitive to the deviations?

  Almost the instant he posed the question, the answer came to him. The Juna, he told himself. This isn't just another new world; this is-maybe-the home of the Juna, who might well be "the creators" he'd been seeking.

  His five companions were as edgy as he felt, Teldin could see. They had different reasons, no doubt; but still they seemed more alert, more sensitive to the slightest sensory cues, than he'd ever seen them before. When a bird-or was it a bird?-squealed in the distance, he saw them all jump, saw Dargeth bring up his sword, ready to thrust or parry. He almost told them all to relax, but then decided against it. Maybe I should be more ready for trouble, he mused, not they less.

  They reached the edge of the meadow. There was a path of some kind leading into the forest, Teldin thought. The undergrowth-plants following the same paradigm as the grass" and the "trees" but about two feet tall-was sparser here, hinting at a trail. What creatures used it? he wondered. Animals? Or the Star Folk themselves?

  Djan signaled for a stop. He turned to Teldin. "Well, where from here?" he asked quietly. "Into the forest?"

  The Cloakmaster nodded wordlessly.

  From his expression, Teldin knew that the first mate didn't really like, or agree with, the decision. Even before they'd left Teldin's cabin, he'd made it clear that he considered it too much of a risk to go far from the ship until they knew more about the environment and the dangers it might contain. "On board ship we've got the catapult and the ballistae to protect us," he'd pointed out. "They won't do any good against magic-not on the scale we've already seen-but they're enough to give the biggest predator something to think about."

  But-now, as then-Teldin was convinced that they should explore. The half-elf had backed down before his captain's orders; and, even though he still disagreed, he didn't seem to take being overruled as a personal affront.

  Djan sighed. "Beth-Abz and Dargeth, take the lead," he ordered. "Anson, watch our backs."

  Teldin watched as the crewmen followed their orders, the half-orc and the disguised beholder moving forward ahead of them, the human, Anson, taking up a position behind them all. Quietly, they moved into the forest.

  Among the trees, the air was cooler-like a mid-fall day in Ansalon, Teldin thought-and slightly more humid than out in the meadow. Light lanced down through the foliage in spears of yellow-gold light, shifting at angles visible as the mini-suns sped by in the unseen sky. The sounds the group made seemed somehow hushed under the green canopy. Paradoxically, Teldin could hear his own breathing and heartbeat with preternatural clarity. A sense of peace, of belonging, enfolded him. He felt a smile spread across his face. He slowed to a stop, breathing the fresh air of the forest deep into his lungs. As he looked around him, he saw similar expressions of peace on the faces of his companions.

  All except Beth-Abz. If the eye tyrant was feeling the same sensations, it was resisting them, maintaining its alertness. Suddenly, the big figure stopped dead in its tracks, staring off into the dappled forest ahead. It signaled silently to the others, who stopped as well. "Something is up ahead," it reported in a harsh whisper. "It comes this way."

  As quickly as it had come, Teldin felt the sense of serenity, of belonging, evaporate. Tension once more squeezed his chest.

  "More than one of them," Beth-Abz hissed. Beside him, the half-orc sank into a sword-fighter's crouch, while Anson readied his sling, seating a lead ball in the leather pocket.

  Teldin took a step forward to join Beth-Abz, but Djan's hand on his shoulder restrained him. Gently, he disengaged himself from the half-elf s grip and moved to stand between Dargeth and the beholder. He strained his senses to the utmost.

  Yes, he could hear movement ahead, the rustle of underbrush as something-or multiple somethings, he couldn't be sure-approached along the path. The shifting spears of light interfered with his vision, not letting him see as far as he wanted to. But then…

  There they were, strange shapes moving toward them at a slow walking pace. Teldin could feel his comrades' tension around him and felt his own heartbeat start to race. The figures ahead weren't humanoid-not even close-but he still couldn't make out their true shapes. The Juna… ?

  Then the creatures emerged into a broad beam of sunlight, and he could see them clearly. His breath caught in his throat, and his pulse pounded in his ears like a mighty drum.

  There were three of them, slender shapes slightly taller than Teldin's almost-six-foot height. Each creature had a smooth cylindrical body supported by three legs arranged evenly around the bottom of the torso. The legs looked flexible, with more joints and better articulation than a human limb, and ended in broad, soft-looking feet with three long toes. From two-thirds of the way up the body sprouted three more limbs-arms, Teldin labeled them, though they seemed boneless, more like muscular tentacles. Overall, each tentacle was about six feet long. Halfway along its length, each tentacle split into three, and each of those split again into three. The nine tips, each more slender and delicate than a child's finger, were in constant motion, writhing and twisting in complex patterns. Above each tentacle was mounted a single large eye, as big across as the span of Teldin's palm. The eyes were all bright gold, catching and reflecting the light of the hurtling mini-suns, with black, three-lobed pupils in their centers. The creatures wore no clothes of any kind and had no hair. They were covered in smooth skin, a pale yellow-cream color, that showed a satinlike sheen in the bright light. Teldin guessed each creature weighed about as much as an adult human, if not slightly more, but they moved with a grace and delicacy that made him think they were weightless.

  The Cloakmaster gaped at them in wonder. He "heard" Estriss's mental voice speaking in his memory, describing the mysterious creatures he'd dedicated his life to following. They had a trilateral symmetry, the mind flayer had told him. Three legs, three arms… Like a xorn or a tirapheg, but unlike both. For an instant, he remembered holding the grip of the Juna knife that Estriss had given him, recalled the feel of the strange channels and ridges against his palm. At the time he'd known the
grip had been designed for manipulative organs very different from human hands. Now he looked at the weaving, nine-tipped tentacles of the creatures, felt a strange stirring of… not quite familiarity, but certainly a hint of recognition.

  Are these the Juna?

  The instant the three creatures emerged into the light, they stopped dead in their tracks. As surprised to see us as we are to see them, Teldin thought.

  Maybe they're surprised that we survived their magical onslaught…. The Cloakmaster braced himself for some kind of hostile response.

  But no attack came. For a few of his racing heartbeats, he watched as the three-legged creatures remained totally still, even their tentacle tips motionless. Then the tentacles resumed their weaving. They were moving faster, he thought, jerkier, more anxiously-or was that his own mind reading an inappropriate meaning into something totally different? Slowly, almost cautiously, the creatures turned around their central axes-one third of a circle at a time, pointing one eye after another at Teldin and the others. Only when each creature had scrutinized the humans and demihumans with all three of its eyes did one of them start forward in a strange, crablike gait.

  Teldin felt Dargeth and Anson tense beside him, readying their weapons, and saw the lines of the beholder's disguise start to shift like water. "No," he said, his voice pitched barely above a whisper. "Let's not do anything hasty." Obediently, Beth-Abz resumed its disguised form, and the crewmen lowered their weapons. Still, however, the Cloakmaster could feel their tension radiating from them in waves. If I can sense it, he wondered, looking at the trilaterals, can they? And, if so, how will they interpret it?

  He watched as the single trilateral-already he found himself considering it the leader, or at least the spokesperson- approached. It moved slower than a walking man, though Teldin couldn't shake the feeling that it could sprint much faster if it had to. Its motions were less graceful, less sure, than it had appeared before it had sensed the presence of the strangers. Although it showed none of the emotional cues that were normal to demihumanity, Teldin strongly suspected it was anxious, if not downright fearful. He frowned slightly. That didn't make any sense. Anxiety in the face of four humans fit his image of the Juna about as badly as… as fear did his perception of the Spelljammer, he concluded. Yet hadn't he sometimes felt fear, when he'd eavesdropped on the great ship's perceptions through the amulet?