Beyong the Moons

Chapter Nine

Teldin woke to the sound of hoofbeats drumming away into the distance. Spitting out an oath under his breath, the farmer struggled up out of his blankets, certain that he had overslept. It would be just like Vandoorm to take off and force Teldin to hurry and catch up, the captain’s idea of a great joke. “Gomja!” he cried, not shouting but loud enough for the giff to hear.

“Quiet, sir!” a bass voice answered, vibrating with urgency. Suddenly Teldin realized it was still dark. It was not morning and Vandoorm had not broken camp yet. It’s me-Gomja, sir,” the giff explained in a whisper. His huge form loomed up out of the blackness.

Teldin lay still, completely confused. “What? What’s happening?” he whispered back.

The giff stood to, reacting to his commander. “It’s Vandoorm and Brun, sir. While I was on guard, they took their horses and rode out of camp. They were talking about something, and I heard our names.

“What-huh?” Teldin sputtered. He turned to look toward the main camp. There was flickering movement before the dull light of the fires and in seeing it Teldin had a flash of panic. He relaxed almost as quickly when he realized it was only the movement of a sleeping man rolling over. ‘So?”

“1 don’t like it, sir,” the giff stated flatly. “It would be better if we knew what they were doing.”

For a moment, Teldin considered telling Gomja to go back to sleep. There was a tone, though, in the giffs voice that suggested the creature might, just possibly, be right. Rubbing at the sleep in his eyes, Teldin finally agreed.

“OK, how do we follow them?”

The giff looked up toward the starlit sky. “It’s dark, so they can’t ride fast, sir. And I can see well in this light, so, if we hurry, we should be able to catch up with them."

Realizing the urgency, Teidin pulled on his shirt and jacket, then snatched up his hanger and fastened the cutlass around his waist. The metal buckles clinked and Teldin cursed the noise under his breath, hoping the other men didn’t hear anything unusual. “What about my horse?”

“I have already scouted the area, sir,” Gomja continued. "I do not think we can take it without waking the others.”

“Well, we don’t want that,” Teldin agreed as he hopped about, trying to pull a boot on. “Gather up our gear, just in case.” The pair hastily stowed what little was easily available. “Leave the rest,” Teldin ordered. Looking toward the other side of the camp, he could see the shadowed silhouettes of the sleeping men. “Ready to go?”

Gomja nodded. “I will take the lead, sir, if it is all right with you.” The giff shrugged the larger pack onto his shoulder. In one hand he carried a knife, the blade rubbed with dirt to keep it from glinting in the dim light. “Your sword, sir,” Gomja reminded the human.

“What? Oh, yes.” Teldin pulled his cutlass from its scabbard, a little embarrassed that he had forgotten all about it. “Now, let’s go.”

In the narrow canyon, the night was intense. The brilliant silver of Solinari was nearly gone, leaving only the red gleam of Lunitari, partially blocked by the high ridges, and weak starlight to see by. Gomja led slowly, circling the darkness at the edge of the camp, working toward the trail that led to the main canyon.

Once on that trail, the giff set the pace at a slow lope, taking care not to move too far ahead of the night-blind human. Where necessary Gomja hissed out warnings of roots, rocks, or holes in the trail. Trying to slip away as quietly as he could, Teldin winced every time a stone clattered underfoot.

Just as they neared the intersection with the main road, Gomja came to a stop and held one hand behind to warn the human of his move, not that Teldin could really see it. “What-” Teldin began.

“Quiet, sir,” Gomja cautioned in the softest whisper possible. “There are voices ahead.” Teldin strained to listen but could not hear anything. Undoubtedly the gills adjustable ears were more sensitive than his.

“I can’t hear a thing,” Teldin protested. “Who is it? What are they saying?” Gomja did not answer but, after a pause, carefully led the way forward. Gradually Teldin could hear murmurs, then distinct voices. His eyes adjusting to the dark, the human could see shapes that might be people-or rocks

“Brun, take the creature. I want Tel alive, but you kill the other one.” The voice was unmistakably Vandoorm’s accented tone.

“It’s about time. We waited too long already,” snarled another voice. Probably Brun, Teldin guessed. “Should have done it when we had the thing chained.”

“And if the big one broke loose, what then?” was Vandoorm’s reply. “I want no mistakes. Do this and we are well paid in Palanthas.”

“Sir,” Gomja’s bass whispered in Teldin’s ear, “give me my pistols. The enemy commander has foolishly revealed his position. If I have my pistols, I can put a ball in him from here. This would give us the element of surprise.”

“No,” Teldin hissed back. He still didn’t understand what Vandoorm was doing. The man was his friend, after all. Whatever was going one, Teldin refused to believe that Vandoorm was a willing part of it.

“But, sir, we are defenseless,” the giff pleaded. “At least give me my weapons!”

Teldin felt for the strange sticks he carried in his bundle, remembering how Gomja had once threatened him with one like them. Considering the effect then, Teldin could not understand why the giff wanted them now. “Are they that useful?”

“Yes, sir, and I swear I will not use them against you,” Gomja earnestly offered.

“Or Vandoorm,” Teldin insisted after brief consideration.

Gomja glumly acquiesced. “Or Vandoorm, sir.” The word given, Teldin handed the two weapons over, but not without a twinge of dread.

As the giff took the last of the items, there was a clatter of rocks somewhere to the left. Vandoorm and the others, whom Teldin had been straining to overhear even as he gave up the pistols, suddenly stopped their conversation. The human froze in dread at the thought that they had been discovered. “Someone’s out there!” the mercenary captain hissed. “Brun, go right. I’ll draw his attention.” There was a soft footfall on the stone as the lieutenant moved out.

The bearded captain raised his voice in mock conversation, quickly shifting the topic away from his plans. Teldin ignored the distraction, trying to follow Brun’s motion. A black silhouette marked the stalker’s moves. The farmer tensed, one hand on his sword, ready to strike. Unwilling to turn away, he could only hope that the giff was staying out of sight.

Another louder clatter of rocks pulled Brun’s attention away. A dark shape burst from a hiding place to the left. Vandoorm and Brun both sprang after the fleeing shape, scrambling over the broken stones in pursuit. Teldin had the impression of a fleeting, reptilian shape before the creature fled out of sight.

“By damn, it’s a draconian!” the captain swore in surprise. He stopped chasing the beast. “Let it go. It won’t hurt us.” Brun hurled a few choice curses after the creature and gladly halted.

Teldin welcomed the distraction the creature had provided, since the mercenaries were now a good distance away, but it concerned him that a draconian had surfaced at all. Teldin quickly relocated his giff companion and began hustling from the area.

“Now, Gomja, we’re going to get out of here-without fighting. We’re not far from Palanthas, so we can get to the city on foot. Understand?” The last was not so much a question as an order.

“Yes, sir,” said the giff, but his voice showed that he remained unconvinced.

“Then let’s go, trooper,” Teldin ordered, giving the giff a gentle push to move out.

“I will never gain honor,” Gomja muttered bitterly as he set off to circle Vandoorm’s position. Fortunately their route was sheltered from Vandoorm ‘s view and the ground they crossed was free of obstruction.

Once beyond the enemy, Teldin moved more quickly, casting occasional glances over his shoulder toward the camp. So far, there was no indication that their absence had been discovered. Turning north, they set out at a steady pace on the road to Palanthas.

The air was even colder now and, to Teldin, there did not seem to be much point left in concealing the cloak. There was no one around to see it, after all. “Grow,” he willed. The black fabric, more gray in the darkness, billowed out with a faint rustle. Teldin caught the edges and wrapped it around himself. The thick cloth instantly warmed his skin, driving out the chill.

With Gomja in the lead, the pair kept moving on the road at a steady pace for about an hour. Both man and giff were alert and tense. Sooner or later the mercenaries were going to discover their absence. Teldin had no clue what would happen then. Perhaps nothing or perhaps something much worse. The uncertainty was an even greater strain than knowing for sure that pursuit followed.

Reaching a broad area where the road cut through a small stand of scrubby pine that spread from the brush-covered banks of the stream, Gomja suddenly came to an abrupt halt. “There’s something ahead. What do we do, sir?’’

Teldin bit his lip. “What is it?”

Gomja tilted his head and swiveled his ears, trying to make out the sound. “Voices, I think, sir, but I cannot be sure. It does not sound like Vandoorm’s men.

“Damn!” Teldin debated his options, but none of them were good. “We need to know more. Let’s get closer.” He gripped the cutlass even tighter than before. Maybe they would be lucky and the whole thing would be just more travelers camped for the night.

Gomja drew himself straighter. “Sir, this is not your duty. Let me go ahead and scout. I can see better in the dark than you,” the giff added to forestall Teldin’s objections. “I will come back and report what I find, sir.”

Teldin thought about it for only moment. “No-we do this together.” He had to see for himself.

The giff shrugged and carefully began to advance. Teldin followed behind. As they got closer, they could hear strange, sibilant voices. Whatever they were, they didn’t sound human, but they did sound familiar to the farmer. Teldin’s first thought, tinged with panic, was neogi, but these voices were different, not the same as those he had heard that night on his farm. He stopped to listen carefully. Gomja, not noticing Teldin’s halt, still kept advancing.

Then the source of the voices came to Teldin, filling him with a new fear. He’d heard these voices before-during the war. “Draconians!” he blurted out. Gomja was barely visible in the darkness ahead. “Gomja,” Teldin hissed. “Take cover!” Teldin had heard stories of draconian bands, left behind during the retreat, hiding out in the mountains ever since the war. He could only guess this was one group of such raiders, though he was surprised to find them still active after five years.

The giff reacted with instinctive speed, springing into action at his commander’s orders. Spotting a tangle of brush just large enough to conceal him, the giff waded into the middle of the thicket and squatted down.

Teldin, so concerned for Gomja’s safety, suddenly realized that he, too, needed to find cover. The bushes were out; they were barely large enough to conceal Gomja. On the verge of panic, Teldin frantically looked around for someplace to hide.

“Stop standing. Come!” hissed a voice from the darkness ahead.

Teldin froze in surprise and terror. Whatever it was-and it was probably draconian-Teldin was certain that the creature was talking to him. Yet, the thing was not raising an alarm; in fact, it did not even sound as if it were taking him prisoner.

“Faster, stupid baaz! You help search.” A darker shadow moved in the gloom toward the human. As it neared, Teldin saw that it was a draconian. The creature’s golden scales and bearded dragonlike muzzle identified it clearly as an aurak. It wore several layers of badly tattered robes over bent and rusting armor. Even in the darkness, Teldin could see they were caked with filth. In one hand the aurak held an ornately etched sword, the blade a fearful-looking series of teeth and curves. With its other hand it gestured toward Teldin, one long, nailed finger a pointing dagger aimed at Teldin. “You not search?” it hissed, slowly shifting the sword’s blade forward. “You not obey Trammaz?”

Teldin looked around him, still astonished that the thing hadn’t attacked him. There were no draconians in sight. Even Gomja was all but invisible. “Me?” he finally sputtered.

"Yes, yes-you, stupid baaz, you!” snarled the aurak. The draconian strode forward and seized Teldin by the arm, removing all doubt of whom it was addressing. The clawed fingers dug into his skin. The aurak, far stronger than a human, yanked Teldin and flung him forward. Almost falling, Teldin stumbled along, the aurak giving him an occasional shove to keep him moving. “You search for human now!”

Off to the side Teldin saw the bushes move, then part. Gomja, kneeling among the brambles, was carefully steadying his pistol, ready to take a shot at the aurak. One eye was on Teldin, waiting for the signal. The human hastily shook his head, warning the giff off. Teldin was curious. While the farmer had no idea how, the draconian apparently mistook Teldin for one of his own kind, and the human wanted to know more. The giff acknowledged the order but did not lower his pistol.

“Why are we searching?” Teldin asked. The draconian cocked his head, large catlike eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. Teldin suppressed feelings of panic. He’d clearly done something wrong, but he had no idea what it was.

“You speak well, stupid baaz,” sneered the draconian, “but you forget I am Trammaz-aurak. You only baaz.” With a backswing of his clawed hand, Trammaz knocked Teldin sprawling. “Now you remember.”

Rubbing his throbbing temple, Teldin got unsteadily back to his feet. “Stupid baaz remember,” he said slowly.

The aurak’s long snout twisted in a grotesque parody of a smile. “Good. Now others come. You learn how to search from them.”

Teldin looked around. More shadows were converging on them. He couldn’t see the figures clearly, but the scratching of clawed feet in the dirt confirmed Trammaz’s words. Counting shadows, Teldin estimated there were ten or more draconians gathering around him. Realizing he was trapped in their midst, Teldin suddenly wondered what kind of reception he would receive. What if this aurak was mad and the others saw him for what he really was? Without showing any panic, Teldin tried to spot Gomja-just in case.

As the first of the newcomers, a bony-looking creature with dull bronze scales, approached, it cocked its head curiously to stare at Teldin. Only one eye was good, while the other was filmed over in milky gray. “Baaz-new,” the bozak grunted. “Why here?” The newcomer drew a sword from under armor as equally bent and battered as that worn by Trammaz.

Trammaz drew himself up until he towered over the other draconian. “I find on road. He know Trammaz great leader. Ask to be bandit, serve Trammaz. This true, baaz?” The aurak looked at Teldin for confirmation.

“True, true,” Teldin answered. Several things were coming clear now. He did not know why, but the draconians were seeing him as one of their own. Perhaps they were all mad. Apparently these creatures, far from their homeland, were once part of the draconian armies. Most likely they were left behind when the armies retreated, Teldin thought, and have been living as bandits in the mountains ever since. “I be bandit,” he added.

The bozak grunted in disgust. “You not like?” Trammaz demanded. “You challenge Trammaz?” By now several more draconians had gathered around Teldin, but their interest was in the other two, not him.

The bozak’s chest swelled as it vainly tried to intimidate the bigger aurak. Trammaz would have none of it. Finally stepping back, the bozak said, “Trammaz leader. No challenge.” The other draconians grumbled in disappointment that there was no fight.

Trarnmaz turned to the group, arms spread in victory. He turned the point of his blade on the group. “No human?” he roared. “Scout say men at camp search for human. They want human very much. Human must be important. We find human, we become important.”

It was slowly starting to make sense to Teldin. The draconians, undoubtedly out raiding by night, must have overheard Vandoorm talking about him and Gomja. Whatever Vandoorm had said, the draconian scouts reported it back to their leader, Trammaz. The aurak clearly had come up with the plan.

One of the draconians, a broken-toothed haaz, spoke from the ranks. “We find, we kill human?”

“No kill, stupid baaz!” Trammaz bellowed. He lunged into the group, which parted like tall grass. Seizing the offending draconian by its scaly throat, Trammaz lifted the creature until only the tips of its claws reached the ground. “No kill. Trammaz want human alive!” The aurak said his words slowly, letting the baaz choke in his grip. Finally when the gurgling draconian’s claws could only weakly scratch the dirt, Trarnmaz cast him aside. “Alive! Remember, I want human alive!” The other draconians only watched fearfully.

Suddenly there was a whoop, a wild whinny, and clatter of hooves. The spell Trammaz held over his companions was broken. “Riders!” spat one of the draconians near the edge of the circle.

“There he is, men, in the center!” bawled Vandoorm’s voice. There was a sudden blaze of light as the mercenaries unshuttered lanterns. The draconjans howled as the unexpected glare temporarily blinded them. Teldin stood in their midst, blinking at the unexpected gleams.

“Take them!” Vandoorm shouted. There was a twang, a soft hiss, and a thud. A baaz, its fanged mouth gaping in surprise, reeled backward, clutching at the arrow that transfixed his collarbone. Even as the draconians stumbled back, the flashing lights of the riders drove wedges through defenders.

“Fight them!” Trammaz howled, but with the riders tearing through his ranks, Trammaz’s orders were pointless. Already a rider, his broadsword held back for a slash was bearing down on the aurak. Standing his ground, Traxnmaz hissed with rage and swung his toothed sword in a powerful arc, tearing through the charging mare’s chest. The horse’s front legs collapsed, knees grinding into the dirt. The rider, unprepared for the fall, was hurled forward. Teldin dove to the side as the man crashed into a knot of draconians. The dazed mercenary was hurriedly slain under a cascade of swords and axes, his gurgling scream mingled with the wet thuds of their savage blows.

“There he is!” Teldin heard Vandoorm shout again. With his eyes now adjusted to the lights, the farmer saw Vandoorm pointing at him. Even as he did, the bearded captain shifted slightly and slashed at a baaz impeding his way.

“Fight, stupid baaz!” Trammaz snarled at Teldin. The aurak stood next to the horse he had brought down. The mare was still jerking, futilely trying to stand as the blood ran out of its chest. “Your fault-riders want you. Now fight or I kill you!”

Teldin was caught between the savage aurak and murderous captain. Teldin whirled about with the cutlass in his hand and looked for any immediate threats. Most of the draconians had already fallen or fled. The few that remained were already hard pressed by the riders. Only the aurak, holding off two of the riders, seemed to be getting the upper hand. “Fight here, baaz!” Trammaz ordered, indicating that Teldin was to come to his side.

“The beast is mad,” Vandoorm shouted in amazement. “He wants the farmer to help him!”

Teldin, even while he knew that all around him were enemies, could not bring himself to fight on the draconian s side. Instead, he carefully began backing up, working toward the bushes, where he hoped Gomja still lurked. Teldin held the sword awkwardly, the hilt high near his head.

Trammaz, seeing that Teldin was not coming to its aid, howled in frustration. “Coward baaz!” it shrieked. Catlike eyes gleamed with berserk rage as the aurak hurled itself forward with no care for its own safety, slashing its way toward Vandoorm. Several riders fell before the mercenaries finally brought the raging draconian down.

Teldin was thankful for the aurak’s death fury, for it looked as if he might escape Vandoorm’s men unnoticed. But, just as he was nearing the edge of the bushes, a lance dug into his back. He could feel the hot breath of a horse over his shoulder. “Forward, mule skinner, not back,” the rider instructed, prodding the lance gently to spur Teldin along. With great reluctance, Teldin started back toward Vandoorm.

In the center of the road, the battle was over. The draconians had been defeated, though at a cost to Vandoorm’s men. The captain and two others were off their horses, seeing to their companions. Two men were clearly dead: the rider hacked to death when he fell and the other slain by Trammaz in the aurak’s final attack. Another man sat on the ground, clutching his side. His face was pale blue and his eyes were glazed. Blood seeped through his fingers and he mumbled in a low moan. Vandoorm looked at him, then turned to one of the other survivors. “We have no healers. Othork is a dead man. Offer him the blade or let him sit there until he dies.” The man nodded, then knelt to whisper in the dying man’s ear.

Several other men sported wounds-bloody gashes and punctures-but seemed fit enough to ride. All told, there were perhaps five fit men left. One man bled heavily from a large gash in his leg. Vandoorm came over and looked at the injury. “Can you ride?” he demanded.

The soldier looked toward Othork, dying in the road. “Yes, sir,” insisted the soldier through gritted teeth.

“Good. Fix him up,” Vandoorm ordered. “We leave soon. Vandoorm turned to Teldin. “So, you have cloak, Tel, and a most interesting one, I am sure. You know, someone wants this cloak very much. They offer a fine price for a farmer with a strange cloak-just the cloak, that is. I even heard news of it in Kalaman.” Vandoorm took the edge of the cloak and rubbed it between his fingers. “I wonder why this is so valuable?” The mercenary grabbed the chains that fastened the garment in place.

Teldin felt a tingle up his back, then there was a sharp crack and a burned smell. “Ahhh!” screamed Vandoorm as he snatched his hand back from the chains. The mercenary shook his arm, trying to drive the pain from his nerves. “It sparks at me!”

Suspecting treachery from the farmer, there was a waver of swords as the men closed their ranks behind their captain. The faces were grim and hostile. The spear point dug once more into Teldin’s back, this time drawing blood.

“What happened to friendship, Vandoorrn?” Teldin hotly demanded. “I was like your son, you said. What about the war?” Vandoorm was his friend-not this, the man who stood before him. Teldin clenched his fists in rage. There was little else lie could do, ringed by men with swords.

“Steel. Lots of steel pieces, Tel,” the captain answered curtly, still massaging his numb arm. “But, because you are a friend-take off the cloak and I will let you live.”

Teldin stiffened. “1 can’t,” he futilely tried to explain. ‘‘It’s-’’

“Too bad. That’s just too bad,” Vandoorm interrupted the farmer. “I am sad you say this. I think I cannot take the cloak off you-alive.” He turned and walked back toward his injured men, only to stop halfway and look back. “Kill him, then I’ll take cloak,” he ordered the rider at Teldin’s back.

Teldin sucked in his breath, braced for the thrust.

There was a loud crack, followed instantly by a scream. The lance jabbed forward in the final thrust, only to drop suddenly from Teldin’s back and clatter to the ground. The cloak must have done something, like the shock before, was Teldin’s amazed thought. At the same time, the farmer could see Vandoorm and the others turning in surprise when, all at once, the man’s heavy body crashed across Teldin’s shoulder, smearing blood and knocking the farmer to the ground. The horse, panicking, reared with a snort and galloped away.

“Stand back or I’ll fire again,” boomed Gomja’s bass voice. Vandoorm and the others froze, uncertain of just what had happened. The giff stood at the edge of the road. In each hand he held a pistol, carefully leveled at the mercenaries. Smoke trickled from the barrel of one. “Come over here, sir,” Gomja said.

On the ground, Teldin reached to roll the body off his legs. The rider flopped over, a gaping wound in the back of his head. Scrambling up, Teldin carefully edged his way toward Gomja.

Vandoorm made a slight move forward. “No, sir. I would not do that,” Gomja ordered. The captain stopped, looking at the awful wound in the man on the ground. When Teldin got alongside, the giff, without taking his eyes off the mercenaries, softly asked, “What do I do now, sir? Should I shoot their leader?

Teldin was tempted for a moment, feeling pure hatred for his treacherous ex-friend, then had what seemed a better idea. “Vandoorm,” he called out, “my friend here is a wizard of the Red Robes. You’ve seen what he’s done already with his magic-and he’s only using his wands. Move away from your horses.

Vandoorm remained unmoving in the lantern light, uncertain of what to do. “Gomja, can you give them another demonstration?” Teldin whispered.

“I have one shot left, sir. Do you want mc to kill another?” Gomja offered. Vandoorm and the others glanced at each other, trying to deduce what was happening.

“No, don’t kill anyone,” Teldin answered slowly. “Just a demonstration.”

“Yes, sir. A demonstration.” Taking careful aim, the giff gently squeezed the trigger of his second pistol. There was another loud bang and a burned metallic smell as a spout of flame and smoke leaped from Gomja’s pistol. Teldin jumped, surprised, even though he almost expected the result. For a moment a thick cloud of smoke obscured things. There was a scream of pain from one of Vandoorm’s men, followed by a string of moans.

"Damn you to Takhisis’s Abyss, farmer!” shouted Vandoorm. “No more-we’re moving!” As the smoke from the powder cleared, Teldin could see Vandoorm and his men moving to the side of the road. One of the previously unwounded men was now being dragged by the captain and another. The fallen trooper’s face was in agony as he clutched at a bloody knee.

“What did you do?” Teldin demanded of Gomja.

“A demonstration, sir, as you requested. I shot him in the knee,” the giff answered innocently.

“Fine,” Teldin spat, still burning with rage. “Keep them covered. I’m going to get us some horses.”

“Sir,” Gomja said out the corner of his big mouth, “I am out of shots.”

Teldin kept his face impassive at this distressing news. Shots, he assumed, were the powers of the wand. “Look, just don’t tell them-bluff!”

“Yes, sir.” Gomja took a step closer to the mercenaries, glowering as fiercely as possible. An animalistic rumble came from deep in his chest. While he was occupied, Teldin caught the two strongest-looking horses and scattered the others with shouts and yells. For himself he chose Vandoorm’s stallion, exercising his desire for vengeance. Up in the saddle, he led the other back to Gomja.

“Pass me your pistols and mount up,’ Teldin ordered. Gomja handed over the pistols, one at a time. Teldin took care to keep them pointed directly at Vandoorm. “The wizard has shown me how to use his magic,” Teldin loudly announced to the glaring men.

“I’ve never ridden a beast like this before, sir,” Gomja pointed out as he looked at the horse.

Teldin steeled himself with a deep breath. “That’s all right, Gomja. It’s never had you ride it before either. Now, let’s go!” The farmer hissed the order through clenched teeth.

“Yes, sir.” After several awkward attempts, Gomja finally got himself situated in the saddle. Teldin gave the giffs horse a slap on the rump, sending it forward into the darkness.

“Don’t try to follow us, Vandoorm, or I’ll forget you once were my friend,” Teldin vehemently swore. Digging his heels into the stallion’s sides, Teldin galloped into the darkness after Gomja.

“I’ll find you, damn you, farmer!” cursed Vandoorm as Teldin disappeared into the darkness. “And I’ll make you pay in pain!”