The Radiant Dragon

by Elaine Cunningham

  We have met, Estriss “said.” The illithid’s mental tone was dismissing, minimizing the importance of the relationship.

  Teldin was not surprised by Estriss’s coolness. At their last meeting, Teldin had suspected his one-time comrade of treachery, and he had convinced the illithid’s crew to mutiny. Teldin had taken Estriss’s hammership, the Probe, into wildspace, intending to get rid of the cloak by giving it to an arcane. There he had found the arcane slain and himself betrayed to the neogi.

  Netarza studied Teldin, and one tentacle curled up to tap thoughtfully against her lavender forehead. I know less of the cloak’s powers than I would like. Estriss, as always, is full of talk of the Juna and has revealed nothing of value. Perhaps, Teldin Moore, you will tell me what you know of the cloak, and why the elder-brain wishes to possess it?

  Turning his eyes away from the mind flayer’s probing gaze, Teldin deliberately kept his mind blank. Although he wasn’t entirely sure Estriss had spoken the whole truth, the illithid once had claimed he could read Teldin’s mind only when the human formed words in silent speech. Apparently Netarza did not get the answer she sought, for after several moments the illithid captain hissed and shot a glance over her shoulder. Immediately an elf glided forward.

  It is time to earn your keep, wizard. Tell me whatever you can about this human, Netarza instructed the elf.

  A hint of light returned to the wizard’s eyes as Netarza allowed him to reclaim enough of his mind and memory to perform the required spell. The elf’s index finger moved sluggishly through the gestures of the spell, and his voice was slurred as he muttered arcane syllables.

  Teldin stiffened, enraged by the magical intrusion on his life. He had no idea what information the spell would yield, but anything would be too much.

  “There is magic about his cloak,” the wizard began in a dull tone.

  The illithid hissed her exasperation and shoved the elf aside. She stepped forward and took the silky green fabric of the cloak between her fingers. Instinctively Teldin swatted away her hand. She released the cloak and caught his wrist in a movement almost too quick for his eyes to follow.

  You don’t want me to touch your cloak? I wonder why, she asked sweetly. Perhaps there were some gems amid the rubble of Estriss’s tales and theories, after all. He mentioned an artifact of the Juna, and claimed that anyone with magical ability who touched the artifact could thereafter track it. Not that I would be so foolish as to let such an artifact out of my sight, she concluded. One of her facial tentacles arched in an approximated sneer as she cast a glance in Estriss’s direction.

  Despite the danger of his situation, Netarza’s words struck Teldin like a blow. They confirmed something he had long suspected: from the very beginning, Estriss had known about his cloak and had tracked him down, hoping to possess it. An old sadness, one that he had thought long spent, welled up in Teldin, and he met the expressionless eyes of his false friend with an accusing gaze.

  Tell Netarza nothing, urged Estriss’s mental voice, throbbing with intensity. In her own way, she and all her kind are as evil as the neogi. The Spelljammer in their hands is a possibility too appalling to contemplate. On this you must trust me.

  Teldin stood silently for a long moment, considering the illithid’s fervent request. Once he had trusted Estriss. The warning given by his cloak and his own instincts told him he must do so now. Whether Estriss was friend or foe was a question for another, safer time.

  Is the cloak this artifact of the Juna? Netarza asked Estriss. Whatever he said about either cloak or its potential creators was for her mind alone, and she seemed less than pleased with the answer. The illithid captain abandoned that line of inquiry and turned to her other guest. You will tell me about this cloak of yours, Teldin Moore, Netarza stated, her white eyes locked with his.

  Teldin felt the first tendrils of control slip into his mind. He took a reflexive step backward. “Another time,” he replied. “I must return to my ship now.”

  The illithid’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. You have a sense of humor, I see. I think I would enjoy taking your thoughts, Teldin Moore, but I must remember my pledge to the elder-brain. She turned to her slaves. Take our guests below and put a guard on their quarters until whatever time Teldin Moore feels like talking, she said, broadcasting her instructions.

  A sharp gasp burst from the dracons. “A guard? You mean to keep Captain Teldin Moore prisoner?” Chirp asked in a shrill squeak.

  “But kaba Netarza, this is most irregular,” Trivit protested. The pale green dracon had been standing quietly by, watching his clan leader with growing confusion and dismay.

  “Most irregular,” Chirp echoed, obviously in deep distress. “This human rescued us from a beholder, and surely he should be honored and rewarded, not —” Overcome with emotion, Chirp broke off, biting his reptilian lip to keep it from quivering.

  The dracons’ chagrin seemed only to amuse Netarza. She reached up and patted Chirp’s dark green cheek. Take them below, she repeated, then she spun and walked away.

  Elves surrounded Teldin and Estriss, and the two “guests” were roughly herded below deck and through a narrow hall. Teldin glanced back at the troubled dracons, wondering whether he should try to warn them about what lay in store for them. Perhaps such knowledge at this point would only endanger them; it would seem that their safety lay in their continued ignorance. Of one thing Teldin was sure: if he managed to escape the illithid ship – a distinct possibility, given the creatures’ oversight in leaving him armed – he would find a way to bring Chirp and Trivit with him.

  When the door to the cabin clicked shut behind them, Teldin turned to his fellow captive. “What’s going on, Estriss? How did you get here? I thought you were —” He broke off abruptly.

  Dead? Estriss finished coldly. He held his facial tentacles stiff and immobile, a clear sign of his emotional detachment. Illithids require less air than humans, and I survived in the void long enough to be rescued by this group from Falx.

  There was so much to say that Teldin did not know how to start, or what to do to bridge the gap of betrayal that lay between them.

  “I’ve heard that the mind flayers of Falx were going after the cloak —”

  And you assume that I was in league with them, Estriss finished coldly. I deserved better from you than to be judged solely on the basis of my race.

  Deeply ashamed, Teldin averted his eyes from the mind flayer’s steady, white-eyed gaze. The words Estriss had just formed were not new to Teldin; they had echoed in his own mind since the mutiny, which Aelfred and Sylvie had helped him lead.

  “You’re here,” Teldin observed lamely.

  Yes, but not by my own choice, the illithid said. There was a long silence, then his shoulders rose and fell in a great sigh. Much of what is said of my race is true, Teldin Moore, but I despise the slave trade and all those who engage in it. I find slavery morally repugnant – a view, I might add, that is virtually unique among illithids.

  Teldin nodded. From the first day he’d met Estriss, he could not consider him a monster, despite his appearance. He could not say the same thing for Netarza and her crew. Those illithids seemed to require a new word for evil. Estriss was right; in their own way they were every bit as bad as the neogi. But even if Estriss was different from most of his kind, there still was much about the past that lacked explanation.

  “The threat from the Falx illithids was only one thing of many,” Teldin continued, determined to have the whole truth. “Our first meeting aboard the Probe could not have been a coincidence. You came after me. If not to gain the cloak for yourself, then why?”

  That is a long story, one better left for another time. Estriss’s mental voice was suddenly weary, and he sank down on one of a few narrow cots in the cell. There are more immediate concerns.

  “Like keeping the Spelljammer out of Netarza’s hands,” Teldin said.

  Actually, Netarza does not seek the Spelljammer, Estriss replied, though she would hardly tu
rn down a chance at the great ship. She does not know why the elder-brain seeks the cloak, but she harbors ambitions of her own and command of the Spelljammer would certainly further them. Most illithids are content to gain power through trade and information; Netarza seeks military strength as well. To what end, I am not sure. She is searching for the homeworld of the dracons, planning to raise a mindless army.

  “How can Chirp and Trivit not realize what’s going on?” Teldin demanded. “Can’t they see that they’re surrounded by slaves?”

  Estriss shifted his shoulders in a crooked shrug. The dracons have an inborn sense of order. Each clan must have a leader and a spiritual guide. The dracons’ need for this structure is so imperative that they will die if deprived of a clan setting, and perhaps this need has blinded them to the true nature of their adopted clan.

  “They’ve got to know,” Teldin insisted. “When we escape, the dracons go with us. When the time comes, can you convince them?”

  The illithid inclined his lavender head. You have grown in confidence and daring, I see. When the time comes, as you say, I will do what I can for the dracons.

  A piercing alarm sounded throughout the ship, its insistent shriek rising and ebbing in a hideous pattern that made Teldin think of an angry, wounded eagle. Footsteps hurried down the narrow corridor outside their room, and the sounds of battle began to ring on the deck above. Teldin tried the door to Estriss’s cabin and found it unlocked. He smiled at his good fortune, cracked the door open, and ventured a look. Their guard was gone, and the corridor was deserted. A woman’s voice soared above the din of battle, raised in a berserker’s war cry.

  Dagmar!

  Teldin was halfway down the corridor before he realized he had left Estriss’s cabin. Fear gripped him as he sprinted up the stairs toward the main deck. His small crew had no hope of overcoming the illithids’ elven warriors. He drew his own sword, glad that the contemptuous illithids hadn’t bothered to take it from him.

  The sight on deck stopped him cold. Somehow his crew had boarded the Nightstalker, and they were locked in battle with the illithids’ slaves. Fighting alongside Dagmar was a ten-foot monster wielding a two-pointed halberd with incredible speed and skill.

  Shock welded Teldin to the deck as he gaped at the monstrous ally. Roughly humanoid, the creature resembled a bipedal, muscular insect. A large gem was set in the center of the monster’s forehead, and it cast an eerie red glow into the purple light. Two large compound eyes, like those of a giant fly, faced forward, and four more eyes darted about independently as the creature took on newcomers from all sides. Although it was surrounded, the creature did not seem to be in trouble. Weapons clanked harmlessly against its iridescent exoskeleton.

  At the edge of his vision Teldin saw a black-robed illithid draw near the creature, its white eyes fixed in a wide, compelling stare. Teldin realized it was summoning a mind blast. Before he could shout a warning to the insect creature, it lunged forward with the halberd, neatly spitting the mind flayer and raising it aloft. The illithid’s legs flailed beneath its black robes, but their motion rapidly diminished to a few jerky twists. With a quick, sharp shake of the halberd, the creature sent the mortally wounded illithid flying into the void.

  An elven warrior crept slowly behind the monster. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. His grandfather’s words rang in Teldin’s mind, Whether the homily was true or not, Teldin saw in the enormous insect his only hope of keeping the cloak away from the illithid slavers.

  “Behind you!’ he bellowed, pointing with his sword toward the elf. Teldin charged toward the insect creature, not sure what he could do to help it.

  He needn’t have bothered. Even as his lips formed the warning, the monstrous insect kicked backward. Its heel spur sliced up and into its attacker, and the elf slumped to the deck clutching at his spilling entrails. Two more elven slaves rushed the creature from the side. A quick thrust of the halberd beheaded one, and the monster drove a spiked fist into the other elf’s midsection. No, through his midsection, Teldin amended with horror. He skidded to a stop, just short of tripping over one of the fallen slaves.

  With one movement, the monster wrenched its hand free of the dead elf’s body and backhanded another attacker. A spike on the creature’s forearm sliced open the elf’s throat. Teldin caught a sickening glimpse of bone and gristle as the elf slumped backward into death in a pool of his own blood.

  At that moment another illithid charged on to the deck, a curved knife in one three-fingered hand. It stopped dead, staring with disbelief at the seemingly invincible insect.

  Bionoid!

  The illithid’s mental shout was broadcasted to everyone on the deck. Aim for the crystal eye, it commanded the slaves, then it let the knife fly.

  Teldin felt the now-familiar magic of the cloak wash over him. Time altered, and the battle slowed to a grim choreography. He saw Netarza’s curved knife somersault lazily toward the monster’s glowing crystal eye. With unassailable clarity, Teldin knew that he must save the insect creature. He ran and leaped as high as he could, thrusting his sword into the knife’s path. There was a short, ringing sound as steel met steel, and bright blue sparks flared against the purple light. Teldin landed on his feet in a crouch, and the knife fell harmlessly aside.

  The illithid spun toward Teldin, tentacles flailing with rage. It drew a dagger and advanced. The dracons charged forward with astonishing speed and placed themselves between Teldin and their former clan member, blocking the attack as effectively as two avenging green golems. Chirp swung his ax, and a tentacle flew to the deck. The dracon continued to swing, and Teldin was not unhappy that Trivit’s huge green body obscured the view.

  An agonized shriek tore through Teldin’s mind; near the head of the stairs lay a frenzied illithid, writhing and clutching at its head. Standing over it was Estriss. He sprung on his victim with the speed of a striking lizard, and his facial tentacles closed over the illithid’s skull in preparation for a grizzly feast. The horror and disgust Teldin expected to feel at this act of cannibalism simply did not register. His preternatural clarity of mind kept him focused on the battle, and the only thing that seemed to matter was the female elf creeping up behind Estriss.

  Suddenly Teldin’s doubts and ambivalence concerning Estriss seemed as distant as a childhood memory. Without hesitation, he shouted a warning as he sped toward his friend. The elf’s dagger fell in a slow, gleaming arc, and even the cloak’s time-altering magic could not move Teldin across the deck in time to save the illithid. The blade bit deeply into Estriss’s shoulder, releasing a flood of pale, pinkish ichor.

  Estriss slumped forward over the dead illithid. A grisly, gray tidbit from his feast slid down the length of a limp tentacle and puddled on the wooden deck. With an blank smile, the enslaved elf raised her dagger again.

  Teldin lunged toward Estriss, sword held low before him. A sharp clang rang out, and the dagger thrust aimed at the illithid’s spine slid harmlessly aside. The force of Teldin’s parry threw the elven warrior off balance, and she stumbled and fell to one knee.

  The elf was back on her feet with a speed that seemed remarkable even to Teldin’s altered perception. Drawing a short, curved sword, the slave attacked. Teldin stood his ground, though he had little doubt that the elven warrior was far beyond his ability. Only the cloak’s magic allowed him to parry the dazzling onslaught of blows she showered upon him.

  From the comer of his eye Teldin saw a long green tail arching toward his opponent. The dracons again! Teldin parried one last blow, then flung himself aside. As he rolled out of range, he heard the ringing thwack of impact. The force of Chirp’s blow sent the elven woman tumbling across the deck. Trivit’s broadsword thrust downward, neatly stopping the elf’s slide by pinning her to the deck. With an uncharacteristic lack of ceremony, the dracon stomped on the fallen slave. The dracons nodded crisply to each other and moved on, working in tandem with a sort of grim efficiency. Using their whiplike tails, enormous swords, and even their teeth, they
kept the illithids’ slaves away from Teldin.

  Feeling safe for the moment, Teldin dropped to his knees and bent over Estriss. The illithid was alive. Relief washed through Teldin, and the intense focus of battle began to slip away. His senses shifted and swam, shrinking and condensing into the focus of his normal time perception.

  Dimly aware of a clicking sound coming toward him,

  Teldin looked up. His eyes widened in purest horror. The insect creature loomed over him. Its armored body shimmered faintly in the dim light, and the lethal blades on its hands, arms, and head dripped blood. At close quarters, the monster was terrifying. Worse, it began to reach down toward Estriss. The creature had fought alongside the Valkyries crew, but for all Teldin knew it might have a taste for illithid flesh.

  Teldin struggled to his feet and stood over the fallen body of his friend. As he crouched in a defensive position and raised his sword, he frantically tried to summon the cloak’s battle magic. The clarity and focus would not come; it was gone beyond recall.

  “It’s all right, sir,” said the creature in a soft, familiar voice.

  Shock hit Teldin like a blow. His sword fell from his suddenly numb hand and clattered unheeded to the deck. “Hectate?” he whispered, not wanting to believe.

  The insect monster inclined its head. To Teldin’s numbed senses, the creature’s acknowledgment seemed to hold a deep sadness. With a gentleness Teldin had always associated with Hectate Kir, the creature stooped and gathered Estriss in its enormous, armor-plated arms.

  “Time to leave, sir,” it said in Hectate’s voice.

  “Leave?” Teldin echoed numbly. The monster swiveled its head so that its main eyes looked out over the starboard rail. Teldin followed the gesture and recoiled in shock. Another ship, even stranger than the drakkar, had joined the battle.

  A series of grappling hooks connected the dark man-o-war to an enormous, spacebound swan. Elven warriors slid down the lines from the swan ship, immediately engaging the illithid’s slaves in fierce battle.