by David Cook
“Improvements to speed?” Admiral Niggil spoke up, overhearing their exchange. “Oh, no, no, no. We improved the sound and color of the helm, not the speed, since – Teldin and Gomja looked at him with expressions of fear on their faces. “Admiral,” Teldin practically screamed, “that’s a neogi ship out there! How do you expect to get past it?”
The impractical Niggil looked at the human with a pained and confused look on his face. “But why should they chase us? This is only a scientific —”
“Gods, Gomja, we’ve got to do something!” Teldin yelled as he comprehended the gnomes’ utter naiveté. The giff nodded in agreement, still stunned to find the gnomes so unprepared. Out the fore porthole, Teldin could see that the deathspider had already started into motion. The slender legs were beginning to open, ready to receive the onrushing Unquenchable. Teldin grabbed Niggil, practically lifting the little gnome off the floor. “Niggil – that deathspider. What are you going to do?”
The gnome sputtered and kicked, as unprepared for Teldin’s assault as he was for the attacking ship. Furious, Teldin pushed Niggil aside and grabbed Ilwar. “The deathspider!” Teldin yelled at him, pointing at the approaching ship.
The stately Ilwar looked out the window. His brownish skin went pale at the sight of the voracious neogi ship bearing down on the lumbering Unquenchable. “Oh, dear,” Ilwat mumbled, awestruck by the vision. “They mean to attack us, don’t they?”
The answer to Ilwar’s question came as a shattering boom mingled with the grating screech of tearing metal. The Unquenchable heaved forward and everyone, Gomja included, slid to the back of the bridge as the bow suddenly angled upward. As the portholes flashed by, Teldin caught glimpses of the deathspider’s metal legs wrap around the Unquenchable’s hull in a murderous embrace. The view ended when the farmer thudded into an unyielding mass of arms, legs, chests, and boxes.
Floundering out of the pile of tangled gnomes, Teldin shouted at Gomja over the noise of the groaning hull. “What’s happening?”
“She’s grappled us, sir,” the giff boomed. “Prepare to be boarded!” Gomja grabbed the doorjamb and heaved a group of the gnomes outside.
Teldin staggered across the canted deck to Gomja’s side, dragging Ilwar along by the collar of his uniform. Planting the admiral between himself and the giff, he shouted questions at the dazed gnome. “Do you have weapons aboard – big ones?”
“No, Teldinmooreofkalaman,” Ilwar answered, too dazed to obfuscate. “This is a scientific vessel.”
“Wonderful,” Teldin commented sarcastically. “Then at least keep your spelljammer engine going full-speed reverse to try breaking free.” He let go of the gnome, who scrambled back to the slowly untangling mass of his fellows to pass on commands. “Gomja, we’d better organize something to repel boarders.” The giff nodded in agreement, a smile crossing his face at the thought of battle.
With an easy pull, the big fellow dragged Teldin off the bridge and onto the deck. Up near the bow, they could already see the grappling legs drawing the gnomish ship closer to its hull. Only one leg was firmly embedded in the bow; the others clung precariously to projections along the Unquenchable’s sides. Umber hulks were already clambering through the rigging of the anchored leg, gradually nearing the bow.
“That’s where they intend to attack, sir!” Gomja bellowed over the continuous squeal of grinding metal. None of the other grapples is secure enough to carry a boarding party.
Teldin nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll fight them. Come on.” He charged along the pitching ship’s deck, past masts and cabins, toward the gangways that led to the main deck. As the pair worked their way forward, they corraled every gnome that scrambled into their path. Those Gomja deemed fit to fight joined their growing squad; the rest Teldin curtly ordered to fetch axes and begin work chopping the other grappling arms away.
Teldin and Gomja pressed on, down the gangway and onto the main deck, past the ship’s boat, swinging wildly on its davits, and through the jumble of booms and chains the gnomes used to load cargo. By the time they reached the bow, the two commanders had an ad hoc collection of engineers, deckhands, and scientific types carrying everything from swords to spanners. The little warriors noted the lordservants’ advance with apprehension, but none shirked from his or her duty.
Deferring to Gomja’s battle sense, Teldin watched as the giff deployed the defenders. The deathspider’s leg had driven through the bow and now formed an arch from ship to ship, the way lined by web-like sails. The leg made a firm boarding ramp for the neogi attackers, who were about halfway across when the gnome defenders arrived.
Still trapped in a single-file line on the narrow leg, the umber hulks in the lead were at a clear disadvantage, which Gomja intended to capitalize on. Giving brisk orders, the giff divided the gnomes into two groups and stationed them on both sides of the attackers. Teldin remained to one side as the giff planted himself at the head of the army, squarely in the path of the attacking lordservants. His flanks were supported by the doughtiest of the gnomes, armed with spears, poles, or any kind of long weapon. Those few gnomes with crossbows were sent to the upper deck, where they would have clear shots at the enemy’s back ranks.
“We’ll hold them on the grapple,” Gomja ordered his companions as he primed his pistol. The giff was not one for making speeches, but his fierce look of determination inspired the little warriors with him. The gnome fighters assumed their fiercest scowls, ready for the task.
“Sir, have your lot try to push them off the walk with spears,” the giff shouted to Teldin. “With a good shove, you should be able to topple them over the side.” The cloakmaster looked over the edge. The two ships, straining and grinding against each other, had drifted away from the lake and were now flying high above the crater’s rocky walls. A fall from this height, Teldin guessed, would mean certain death for the lordservants.
The deck lurched and swayed as the first umber hulk came unsteadily down the deathspider’s leg. The creature’s bulk allowed it to bat easily through the thicket of poles and spears put up by Teldin’s squad of gnomes. Before the lordservant could reach the bow, however, Gomja rose up with his pistol leveled at the beast. “To the void with you!” he bellowed, his defiant cry punctuated by his pistol’s crack. The space between the two giants filled with smoke. The umber hulk reeled back with a squeal as a lead ball smashed through its forehead, then it stumbled over an out-thrust spear, plunged off the wood-and-metal leg, tore through the thin sails, and plummeted to the rocks below. “Again! Again!” cheered the gnomes as they marveled at Gomja’s wonderful weapon. The giff only shook his head, thrust the still-smoking pistol back into his sash, and drew his elven blade.
Another lordservant charged forward to take the first’s place, once again tearing through the bristle of spear points. Its wild rush was finally stopped by Gomja’s almost equally matched bulk as the giff stood astride the spiderleg boom. Gomja, now in his element, wielded his sword with crazed intensity, aided by the gnomes at his side. Teldin had little time to watch, since another of the hideous umber hulks already charged down the boom. Unable to proceed past its predecessor, who was locked in battle with the giff, the newcomer slashed and battled against the forest of spears.
“On my signal, lunge!” Teldin shouted to the gnomes around him. “Now!” A wall of spear points thrust at the umber hulk. A rope shot out from the other side of the bow and snaked over one of the creature’s mandibles, jerking the beast’s head to the far side. The spears pressed at it and, though these were unable to penetrate the creature’s bony hide, the beast staggered back. Suddenly one taloned foot was clawing air and the umber hulk plunged over the side with a chittering squeal. A faint, pulpy thump echoed from the rocks below. Almost mindlessly, another pushed forward to take its place.
Although the umber hulks possessed advantages of size and ferocity, the battle was unwinnable almost from the start, once their chance of reaching the bow was lost. Restricted to their narrow beam, the lordservants
were unable to bring their might to bear. While the front rank of gnome defenders, Gomja at their head, stalled the lead attacker, Teldin and his squad brought the second rank down. From the deck above could be heard the twang of crossbows as gnomish marksmen concentrated on ranks even farther back. Time after time the gigantic umber hulks plunged to their deaths, and as more of the lordservants fell, Gomja boldly pushed himself farther and farther onto the deathspider’s leg.
Just when the giff was almost beyond the reach of the spears, the two ships rolled precipitously to the right as the Unquenchable tore free of all but this, the last of the deathspider’s grasping arms. Teldin suddenly found himself sliding across the deck in a snarl of gnomes. There was a series of unnatural screams followed by the distant thuds of flesh on rock. “Gomja!” the human shouted in panic, dreading that his friend may have been among those lost.
“Still here, sir!” boomed the giff. The big brute had caught the bow railing just in time, but the lordservants facing him had not been so lucky. The other spider legs were clear of the gnomes’ vessel, and now the wooden beam was all that joined the two ships.
“Axes, quickly!” Teldin shouted, pushing the gnomes around him to action. There was no telling how long this opportunity might remain. “Chop that leg free!” The gnomes scrambled quickly to gather the necessary tools. Turning to Gomja, still on the beam, the farmer waved the big giff back. “Clear off, Gomja, we’re ready to go!”
“No, sir, I won’t!” Gomja shouted back. He stood unsteadily in the center of the boom, his sword and tunic splashed with blood. “First platoon, gather to me!” he bellowed, raising his elven blade as a rallying point. Already the fiercest of the gnomes scrambled to join him.
“Gomja, what’re you doing? Get back here. I order it!” Teldin cupped his hands and shouted to the giff over the freshening breeze.
“I’m sorry to disobey, but I’ve got to, sir. This tub —” Gomja waved his sword toward the Unquenchable — “can’t outrun a deathspider. The neogi ship’s got to be stopped from the inside. First platoon!” he bawled again.
“There’s got to be another way,” the human insisted as he forced his way onto the boom.
“No, sir,” Gomja answered firmly. He strode down the leg to meet his friend, balancing himself with his sword. “It’s time I took on a command, sir, a real command.” The giff held out his big hand to Teldin. “It really is good-bye this time, sir. Don’t worry, I’ll get back all right – maybe even aboard this deathspider.”
Teldin looked at the giffs offered hand and then, finally, took it in his own. They had been together long enough for Teldin to learn Gomja’s sense of honor. The farmer did not like it – did not even understand it – but he could not deny the giff his chance for glory. “Damn it, good luck, Sergeant Gomja. You’re going to be a famous giff someday. You’ll have a lot of stories to tell when you become a sire.” The wind whipped the cloak around Teldin’s arms.
“Thank you, sir. I’m sure you’ll be in them, too.” The giff shook the human’s hand firmly, but Teldin didn’t even notice the crushing pain. “Now, clear off, sir, so your gnomes can cut that plank.”
The cloakmaster nodded numbly and backed off the deathspider boom, signaling his axemen to their task as he did so. “First platoon, charge!” Gomja bawled. With a rush, the big giff led his handful of gnomes up the arching span of the leg, then straight down into the deathspider’s maw. The giff scrambled onto the hull and disappeared from sight. Over the wind, Teldin could barely hear the sounds of battle. That distant noise was drowned out by the sound of axes biting into wood.
Teldin stood back and watched, ready to order the gnomes to stop if there was any sign of the giff or his men, but none came. Finally, the last axe blows severed the deathspider’s leg and the Unquenchable lurched backward with a savage jolt. The splintered end of the wooden boom dragged across the bow with a grinding squeal, then swung out over emptiness. Without waiting to supervise the cleanup, Teldin turned and sprinted back to the bridge, barreling past any gnome who got in his way.
Bursting onto the bridge, the farmer found the three admirals and Captain Wysdor already hard at work, quarreling with each other. “Gomja’s bought us time, so use it!” he demanded without even bothering to learn what their argument was about. He was furious that the gnomes were wasting this precious opportunity. Amazingly Teldin’s fierce imprecations galvanized the commanders to function with a modicum of efficiency and brevity. “Hard up! Full speed!” the captain, who had the clearest head of the lot, ordered in a bewildering flurry of commands while the admirals pored over charts and log books. Bells rang and whistles blew from somewhere belowdecks. The Unquenchable lurched again and hauled upward, pulling fully out of the deathspider’s grasp. Teldin pushed his way to a porthole and waited fearfully for pursuit.
The deathspider angled upward, poised to follow. Its porthole eyes glared balefully at the gnomish tub, and the arching grappling arms swung slowly, as if blindly trying to grasp the fleeing prey. Teldin saw, in the ship itself, a look of pure, hateful evil.
The look was disrupted by a brilliant flare in the enemy ship’s bow. As Teldin watched, one of the great glass portholes exploded in a shower of smoke and flame, quickly followed by another. The vile ship shuddered and heaved, then rapidly fell away as the Unquenchable built up speed. Black clouds and bright flames poured from the enemy vessel. As the crater of Mount Nevermind receded with dizzying speed, the flaming neogi vessel nosed downward and plunged into the bowl. Too far away to hear any noise, Teldin’s view of the crash was quickly obscured by a billowing wave of white steam and gray smoke.
The gnomes watched the sight from their stations and let loose with a wild, enthusiastic cheer. Papers and charts flew as the bridge crew clapped and capered in celebration. Teldin, though, could only grip the porthole till his knuckles were white. “Good-bye, Gomja,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll see you in the void.” Teldin bitterly regretted every suspicion he had ever held against the big creature. The giffs sacrifice was another crime to lay at the neogis’ feet, though Teldin prayed that somehow, against all odds, the giff had survived the crash.
Epilogue
Teldin lay resting in a large, overstuffed, and very comfortable bed the gnomes had managed to cobble together for him. It was the first real rest he had enjoyed in days, though it felt more like weeks to him. The cloakmaster’s physical sores and wounds were slowly knitting or fading. The days spent in Krynnspace since the Battle of Spiders, as the gnomes called his victory over the neogi mindspiders, had been quiet and restful.
For several days the Unquenchable had limped along, sailing on a single paddlewheel, which provided little motive power anyway. The gnomes had been working in the ship’s shops to build a new wheel – they were wizards at repairs – but it had been complicated by the usual desire to improve and enhance the basic design. The former farmer did not mind the delay. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed the empty beauty of space. Compared to his recent life on the planet below, the majestic darkness was blessed tranquility.
Now, though, the repairs, or at least a decent jury-rig, were finished, and Ilwar, Niggil, and Broz had come by Teldin’s cabin for a visit. Captain Wysdor was too busy with the repairs, they said.
The three admirals perched on a sea chest, looking at Teldin over the bed’s footboard and holding big mugs of ale with both hands. Finally Ilwar harrumphed importantly and wiped a bit of brew from his black beard.
“Honorary Captain Teldin Moore of Kalaman,” the square-bearded gnome began, using an honorific they had bestowed on the unwilling human, “we were wondering, since you might now want to go home —”
“If you were interested in hearing —” chimed in Niggil. Ilwar cleared his throat again, momentarily silencing his enthusiastic companion. “We though you might want to know our landing procedures. Of course, all our landing procedures are theoretical at this point, but I predict that by slowing the vertical rate of descent while maintaining for
ward motion, the Unquenchable should be able to land in a body of water, in theory, no less —”
“Posh and nonsense,” countered Niggil, clearly cherishing some pet theory of his own. “The proper method for landing the Unquenchable is to detach the forward hull section and power it separately with a minor helm, then use that part to bring the main hull of the ship down, which we think will float safely in —”
Broz snorted in a slow, lazy sort of way, finally deigning to speak. “In theory, the best method is to stop all forward motion and increase the vertical descent so that —”
Teldin cut them off them with a bemused, if somewhat nervous, laugh. “There’s no need to tell me all this. Tell me, what are your plans for the Unquenchable?”
Ilwar, as solemn as ever, wiggled his bushy eyebrows in surprise at such a question. “Why, the Unquenchable is a scientific vessel designed for exploration and collection of data —”
“And specimens,” Broz interrupted, being positively loquacious.
“And the performance of scientific tests,” Niggil insisted, not one to let scientific matters be disregarded.
“Ahem,” asserted Ilwar, regaining control, “and as such, we will journey the trade routes of the Flow until we return home, so the whole thing is quite simple.” Ilwar was the most concise of the lot.
“I see,” mused Teldin as he sipped on his ale. “Will you be stopping anyplace where there are humans?”
All three nodded in the affirmative, having perfected the new-fangled communication method under Gomja’s command, though Niggil had taken to testing the proper blink rate.
Teldin looked at the cape he still wore wrapped around him. Coming into space still hadn’t let him take it off. The opalescent fabric was the same as ever. Still, he knew now that it was important and that the neogi, or at least some neogi, wanted it very badly.
