Read Online The Ultimate Helm by Russ T. Howard - Free Book Online Page A

hold. On deck, I overpowered the second mate and killed him with his own dagger. I went through the ship carefully and slit the throats of all those who had...
    “They finally caught me, just as I was about to kill the captain. They threw me overboard, into the phlogiston. I cannot describe the sensation when I finally succumbed to the flow. I floated there for I don’t know how long, until I was found by
    the Spelljammer.
    “They tell me I’m lucky. Once they brought me aboard – I have CassaRoc to thank for that – I thawed out quickly. I must not have been out there for very long. I don’t feel very lucky. I still see them in here.” She rubbed her forehead. “I still hate them. And my father... I can’t ever be sure what happened to him.”
    Teldin glanced at CassaRoc. “We intercepted a report from a neogi messenger,” CassaRoc said. “One of their mages had spotted something in the flow. It wasn’t long before our own scouts made out her shape not far off the port bow. We intercepted her before the neogi could, and we took her to the Tower of Thought.” He laughed. “A few of my ales brought her around soon enough.”
    Teldin watched Cwelanas and felt pride, mingling with awe, at her strength during the trials she had lived through. Something nagged at him, though, the sheer coincidence of her reappearance as his quest was coming to an end. Coincidence? he wondered. Cwelanas was stronger than he had ever known, and he knew now that she was supposed to be here, at journey’s end, to help fulfill his still unknown destiny.
    No. It was not coincidence. It was verenthestae.
    He pulled her to him and held her gently in his arms. “I will get you out of this, Cwelanas,” he said. “We will get out of this together.”
    Chaladar again cleared his throat, this time louder. CassaRoc stood. “All right, we get the point, paladin.” To Teldin he said, “Sorry, Cloakmaster, but it looks like your reunion will have to wait. We have to get you out of here. It would be best if we could smuggle you out, but it looks like we’ll have to take our chances outside, and probably make a run for it.” He turned to his companions. “Any ideas?”
    No one answered the warrior. He looked questioningly around the room. Suddenly, the little warrior with the slingshot stepped away from the bar, sloshing his ale onto the floor. His mouth agape, he pointed toward Teldin.
    “Emil?” CassaRoc said. “Emil, are you bewitched, son?”
    Emil blinked and scratched his head. His eyes were wide with confusion. “CassaRoc, sir, look at him. Look!”
    CassaRoc turned and faced Teldin. “What in the name of
    the gods...!”
    The Cloakmaster was standing beside Cwelanas, and as the warriors in the room watched silently, his face shifted its features. He became shorter, thinner, and his apparel changed hues and texture to resemble a plaid cloak and ill-fitting clothes.
    Emil jabbed his finger toward Teldin. “He’s me, sir! He’s j-j-just like me!”
    CassaRoc, suspicious, scrunched up his face and looked Teldin over. “Is this a spell of some kind?” he asked. “Are you a magic-user?”
    Teldin smiled and looked at his now puny body. He had deliberately chosen the least dangerous warrior in the room in order to appear unthreatening. He knew that his shape-shifting ability was sometimes feared, but he hoped that this display would prove his good intentions, his trust in CassaRoc’s people. And he hoped it wasn’t misguided.
    “No, it is not a spell,” Teldin said. “It is merely another property of the cloak. I show this to you to prove my trust, for I am grateful for your rescue today. Now, if your friend Emil here doesn’t mind —”
    “Emil the Fierce!” Emil said, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, I am honored you chose me to imitate, Mr. Cloakmaster, sir. You don’t know what this means to me, you really —”
    CassaRoc quieted him with a gesture. “You’re talking like one of those gnomes, son. Now slow