The Ultimate Helm by Russ T. Howard Page B

mold’s being washed through him with a sweet, intoxicating hum.
    Estriss, he thought, you consort with humans. You cannot be trusted.
    Trebek started down the stairs and paused between floors of the horned tower. Estriss could be a problem, he thought. He was a friend to this human, this inferior Cloakmaster. Trebek shivered in disgust. You are a liability. I will see you dead before you get in the way of true illithids and our power on the Spelljammer .
    Phlbasta , Trebek thought, you are not a true mind flayer to me.
     
     

Chapter Four
    “... It was decreed that there be two artifacts that shall bring the Chosen One to complete the Cycle of All. The Compass, imbued with the very soul of Egrestarrian itself and the Cloak, which shall protect the Pilot as it had the First, and give to him the ability to end that which we inadvertently begat. It is not penance that shall be paid, but the price of destiny  – Tru’vaer.
    “It was with our spells and invocations that the Cloak was banished and left on the island of Gol on the world known as Westrelon; and the Compass was taken to an unnamed sphere uncounted thousands of leagues distant, where it was left to be discovered in the center of a natural ring of dormant volcanoes.
    “May destiny call the artifacts together once again. May destiny call the Cloakmaster to the Renewal of the Dream....”
    The Mage of the Owls, journal;
    reign of Velina, the Second Pilot.
     
    “Cwelanas?” CassaRoc said, turning toward the newcomer. “Teldin, you know our elven friend?”
    But Teldin had already gone to her. He held the lithe Cwelanas tightly in his strong arms, his lips pressed hard against hers. Her arms curled around his neck and her body slowly molded against his.
    “Yes,” CassaRoc muttered, “I suppose you do.”
    She had hardly changed since Teldin had last seen her. Cwelanas’s long silver hair spilled over her shoulders and hung seductively over one side of her slim face to hint at hidden beauty. Her eyes glimmered a pale gold, and her smooth, soft skin was almost alabaster, tinged pink with the heat of the kiss.
    Cwelanas, Teldin thought. It had been so long since they had been together, but hardly a day had gone by without his thoughts turning to the elven woman he had left behind on Krynn  – the woman he had never dared hope to see again.
    He held her close in a long embrace, until Chaladar very obviously, very loudly, cleared his throat. Teldin slowly pulled his lips from hers and looked up sheepishly.
    “We really should hurry things up,” Chaladar told him. Teldin smiled and nodded, then led Cwelanas over to CassaRoc’s table. “You know each other?” Teldin asked.
    CassaRoc nodded, smiling, and shoved a stool out with his foot. “Sit down, woman. We have a few minutes, eh, Chaladar?”
    Chaladar’s face was stern. “We should leave before anyone discovers he’s —”
    “That’s what I said,” CassaRoc interrupted. “We have a few minutes. Mostias ...”
    The immense centaur closed off the tap and placed three tankards of ale on the bar. “Well ahead of you, little man.” He took the tankards in one huge hand, brought them around to the table, and placed one in front of each warrior. “Anything for a friend of the Cloakmaster,” he said, smiling at Cwelanas. He then bent down and whispered to CassaRoc, “There is the matter of a certain tab ...”
    “Not now,” CassaRoc whispered hurriedly, “not now.” He waved Mostias away.
    Teldin and Cwelanas left their ales untouched, and instead sat staring into each other’s eyes. CassaRoc watched them both for a moment, then took a long draft of his ale. “Women,” he said under his breath.
    “I thought I’d never see you again,” said Teldin, breaking the awkward silence between them. “I thought you were out of my life forever.”
    “And I, yours,” Cwelanas said. Her red lips glistened, and her eyes sparkled with gold. “I felt lost without you after you left me on Krynn.