Free The Ultimate Helm by Russ T. Howard

that he had stolen from his grandmother two decades earlier, the elven thief had seen a cape of energy swirling around Teldin Moore as though it were a thing alive.
    Oblivious to all this, Teldin paused as CassaRoc opened the great door to the Tower of Thought and invited him in.
    The thick door closed behind the party, and CassaRoc led them all up to a great dining area, where most of CassaRoc’s fifty men waited for their leader. As they entered, the group clapped him on the back, while Teldin strayed around the room, secure in his disguise. He found Cwelanas at the bar, and he sidled up to her. “So far, so good,” he whispered.
    “That’s what you think,” she said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You were spotted out there by someone,” Cwelanas said. “Count on it. If you weren’t seen by a neogi mage, or a beholder, then someone else with magical abilities found you out.”
    “Perhaps... an elf?” Teldin asked, instantly suspicious.
    Cwelanas glanced up. For a moment, she appeared almost sad. “Perhaps.”
    “I’ll be on my guard.”
    CassaRoc came over and pulled Teldin an ale from a long line of taps behind the bar. He sipped at it until the larger group finally came in, led by Chaladar. Emil had been kept hidden tightly in the center.
    When Emil was revealed, the disbelieving humans stared between him and Teldin. Finally, Teldin imagined himself wearing his own features, his own musculature, and his own clothes. His body seemed to grow warm, tingling with energy, and he heard the warriors gasping and talking among themselves as his features reshaped into his own natural appearance. The plaid cloak metamorphosed into a dark band at his throat, clasped in front by his amulet, which had shrunk to the size of a coin.
    There was silence for a moment, until Emil said, “Boy, that sure was something, Mr. Moore, sir. I sure would be honored to help you out even more – hah! more , get it, sir? hah! – you just let me know if I can help you out at all, Mr. Cloakmaster, sir —”
    Teldin patted him on the shoulder. “I appreciate the offer, Emil —”
    “Emil the Fierce!” Emil said.
    Teldin smiled. “Yes, yes. Thanks.”
    CassaRoc stood up on a table in the center of the room and motioned Teldin to come over. He looked down at all his warriors and nodded appreciatively.
    “Fellows of the Pragmatic Order of Thought,” CassaRoc began, “we have a very important guest with us – more important than even he knows, I think. This is Teldin Moore. He’s come a long way to rendezvous with the Spelljammer. And he’s not a mage or anything like that. He’s the one we’ve heard all the rumors about. He’s the Cloakmaster.”
    The crowd turned toward Teldin, who really did not know what to say. He had not expected a reception such as this, nor a formal introduction to the Human Collective by its leader.
    “I know, it’s hard to believe, but you all saw it here, and the ancient rumors about the cloak are true. And with it, Teldin here saved my life and routed the cursed neogi.”
    CassaRoc paused for effect. “Now, I think the Spelljammer is at a turning point, and I think things are going to be a lot different now that Teldin is on board. Chaladar and I have talked about this a lot, lately, once we all heard the rumors. And we’re pretty much agreed: Teldin here is the Cloakmaster, and it is his destiny to be here with us, whether we like it or not.
    “We’ve all heard the legends of the Dark Times. Now, it seems to me that if the legend of the Cloakmaster is true, then the legend of the Dark Times is probably true as well.
    “But we are humans, here, and Teldin is one of us. His cloak has brought him here for a purpose, whatever that purpose may be. I, for one, think we have to stand behind him. Now, I’ll let him speak to you, and you can judge for yourselves the truth of his words.”
    CassaRoc climbed down and placed his hand on Teldin’s shoulder. “Go ahead, boy. Don’t you worry.