Beyong the Moons

Chapter Two

Like a flushed fox, Teldin sprang to his feet and spun about, hoe in hand, the cloak flapping over his arm. The farmer choked back an enraged outcry, for on the opposite side of the wall stood a massive form half-concealed by a tangle of spars and deck planking. The blazing debris grotesquely illuminated the bestial creature-so unlike any Teldin had seen-that lurched from the wreck.

It stood stiff and upright like a seasoned knight, though it was a good seven feet tall and almost half that in width across its shoulders. Thick shadows marked its heavy jowls, its large sagittal crest, and the deep pits of its nostrils. The creature had a face like a hippopotamus, but the skull was flatter, with pert little ears at the top of its head. It was difficult to tell in the firelight, but Teldin thought the creature’s skin looked bluish gray. Its two legs were like tree trunks and its chest was as big around as the old water barrel that used to stand beside the house.

The thing wore trousers and a tight-fitting blouse adorned with ribbons; the whole outfit was now badly ripped. A broad, orange sash was wrapped around its thick waist, and in it was tucked a collection of mismatched knives and a worn cutlass. As Teldin stared dumbly, the beast stumbled forward over rubble, not taking its small, dark eyes off the human. It kept one arm stiffly outstretched and pointed directly at the farmer at all times. In this hammy, blue fist was a strange, curved stick of metal and wood, aimed at Teldin’s head.

“Assassin and thief, before you die, know that your slayer is Trooper Herphan Gomja, Red Grade, First Rank, First Platoon of the Noble Giff,” the creature gloweringly intoned. “When your soul gets to wherever it goes, remember my name!”

“No, wait!” shouted Teldin in a desperate attempt to explain. “I didn’t kill-”

“It is too late, groundling!” the big blue-gray beast bellowed back. His thick finger squeezed down on a small lever on the underside of the stick. Paralyzed more by astonishment than fear, Teldin was rooted in place. A scorching wind from the blazing wreck sucked up a rain of cinders and ash and swirled it around them. The cloak fluttered and flapped in the breeze. The stick gave a mighty flash and roar, dazzling Teldin but breaking the spell that bound him in place. Blinded and deafened, he flailed out with the hoe, missed, slipped on a loose stone, crashed over a tangle of wood, and sprawled on the ground. Panting and blinking while scrambling back to his feet, the farmer waited for the big creature to strike, but nothing happened.

By blinking furiously, Teldin cleared his eyes, though a bright spot from the flash still hung at the center of his vision. There was a strange, acrid smell that overpowered even the smokiness of the fire. Turning about, he saw the trailings of an iron-blue cloud dissipating into the night air. Underneath that strange smoke Teldin spotted the big blue giant sprawled on the ground only a few feet away. The creature’s hand, the one that held the strange device, was black with soot. Cuts and burns marked up his arm and neck and a swelling bruise was already beginning to show on the hard-looking forehead. “Trooper Gomja, eh?” the farmer scornfully said, remembering the creature’s name. When there was no response, Teldin threw the cloak over his shoulder and hobbled to where the trooper lay. Nearby was the strange, threatening stick, its metal tube now bent and twisted into apparent uselessness.

Gingerly kicking the exotic device away, Teldin checked with his hoe to see if the beast was conscious. Satisfied it was not, he carefully searched the remains of his once-beautiful, whitewashed cabin to find a good, long piece of very, very stout rope.

The search was brief and, a short time later, Teldin set the final knot in place with a hard yank. Exhausted, the farmer looked down at his handiwork. The big giff, if that was what he was called, was trussed tighter than a pig on market day, his wrists and ankles firmly bound. Teldin really wanted to hog-tie the creature solidly, but there had been only so much rope in the ruins of his house. The whole thing had taken longer than he expected, but at least the murderous creature was safely restrained.

While Teldin was working, the wreck’s flames crept uncomfortably close. Since his opponent still lived, the farmer took it upon himself to drag the beast’s inert bulk away from the burning wreck. Whatever it-he-was, he was not light, Teldin quickly discovered. The gray-blue beast had to weigh at least as much as a good-sized sow, maybe four hundred pounds or more. It was only by half- rolling, half-dragging the creature that Teldin reached the shelter of the broken trees near the stream.

With a spent sigh, Teldin plopped onto the chest of his huge captive and looked back to the wreck, trying to decide what to do. The fires on the ship still blazed brightly and were slowly spreading, since there was plenty aboard the shattered ruin to feed the fiery tongues. Curiosity urged him forward to investigate the bizarre skyship. “No,” Teldin said to himself, shaking off the desire. “It’s too dangerous." Still, Teldin’s sense of decency demanded he try to get the body of the dead woman away from the fire. At least he could do that much.

After a quick check on his prisoner, Teldin approached the burning ship only to have a wave of heat drive him back. He unconsciously slipped the cloak off his arm and fastened the clasp about his neck. As the silver jaws clicked shut, the farmer suddenly realized just what he had donned. For a moment he expected strange and mysterious magic to burst forth. When nothing happened, Teldin plunged forward to where the dead alien lay. After dragging her body to safety, he returned to the ruin.

The wreck now burned brightly, lighting the torn-up field and even the trees beyond. The flames were enough to provide a clear view of the destruction. During the long siege of Kalaman, Teldin had seen quite a few ocean-going vessels, the army’s only lifeline to the outside. Although it was now broken into halves, the shattered hulk that lay across his house looked similar. The bow section was on its side amid the rubble of the cabin’s chimney and roof. The stern, supported under its keel by a tangle of logs and trees, canted upward toward the front, giving the impression that the stern had carved the ragged gouge through Teldin’s melons. It was in this half that the fiercest fires raged.

Teldin realized as he looked at the giff and the female that the crew had to be larger than these two. Ocean ships, he remembered, had crews of ten or more men. Teldin reluctantly pulled the damp cloak tight and headed back toward the crackling wreck. Although it was dangerous, perhaps even foolhardy, Teldin knew he had to search for more survivors, and that meant once more braving the flames.

He continued his circuit of the vessel. Although the hull planking was splintered or sprung all along the length to the stern, no safe opening presented itself. The few gaps that Teldin guessed he could wriggle through showed hellish flames leaping inside. That was more than enough to discourage any attempts to enter by those routes.

Near the stern, the way was blocked by the arch of the bizarre fin that stretched from the ship’s keel. Teldin could see that it was of a strange substance, almost flesh. The the enormous, bound prisoner and the slight corpse on the fin’s thick ribs quivered when he touched them, and the stench of roasted meat that rose from the charred membranes was nauseatingly heavy.

Skirting past the horrid appendage, Teldin climbed over the trunk of an uprooted tree and came around to the stern. He stood in the remains of the melon field, immature fruits, reduced to green pulp, squashed under his feet. As Teldin had suspected, the stern had a bay of windows marking a cabin. It was the same as the ships of Kalaman, and Teldin guessed that ships must be pretty much the same regardless of their ports of call.

The side of the stern angled downward, putting the cabin’s shattered windows just within reach. While smoke poured out from the top of each window, there was no sign of the hellish flames that consumed other parts of the ship. Teldin got his fingers on the sill, then pulled himself up to peer over the edge. The heat and smoke were noticeably greater even this small distance from the ground.

The farmer scanned the cabin through smoke-burned, watering eyes. Firelight from outside provided the only illumination, for no flames had yet found their way this far aft. Right beneath his nose was a narrow table, tipped on its side. A sea chest, flung loose in the crash, had broken one of the legs. Several other chests had been thrown with enough force to crack the fine wood paneling of the cabin’s walls. Strewn all around the floor were charts and logs, bent calipers, and instruments Teldin could not recognize. These might be valuable or useful, but, clinging to the sill, he could not reach them.

Oddly, there was an enormous chair, bulky and plain looking, sitting undisturbed in the center of the room.Just how it had survived, the farmer could not fathom, until he noticed that the heavy legs were bolted to the deck, a point that aroused his curiosity. The seat faced the bow, ignoring the view out the stern windows, and was hardly a position Teldin would have chosen.

Aglow around the edges of the cabin door heralded the blaze’s arrival. Almost immediately following the dim illumination, flames licked through the cracks of the jamb and tickled the cabin’s ceiling. The new fire lit the darker corners of the room. Huddled in one of these was a form, half- hidden under a welter of papers and junk.

“Are you all right? Can you move?” Teldin shouted, enthusiastically but mistakenly seeing the body as something alive. The expanding light quickly changed his hopes. The War of the Lance had given the farmer more than enough examples of death’s visage, and this was just another. The corpse was an old man’s, clearly human. Its pockmarked face was slack, but the fingers stiffly pointed with rigor mortis. The mouth hung open, the dead-blue tongue lolling out one side, and the clouded eyes stared to the ceiling. The corpse wore a long, dirty white robe of thin material, like a summer nightgown. On its feet were red velvet slippers, decorated with glass beads. A small pouch at the waist had spilled open, revealing little bundles of feathers, powders, small stones, prisms, dried leaves, and bits of bone. A wizard, Teldin guessed, probably one of the Order of White Robes, those whose moon was the silvery Solinari.

For a moment, while clinging to the window sill, Teldin debated climbing in and dragging the corpse out. The wizard deserved a proper burial. The crackling roar from the fire, however, quickly dissuaded him. The farmer saw a solid sheet of flame billow across the ceiling. Fingers of fire ran down the window frames. Fiery drops of pitch bubbled and oozed out of the wood and dropped to the floor. Dust from the melon field started to blow past as the growing fire sucked air into the room. A blast of heat assailed Teldin, and the wooden door panels split open. Smoke and fire roiled through the doorway.

“Paladine’s blood!” Teldin swore. He abandoned all thoughts of rescuing the corpse, then dropped back to the dirt. His move came not a moment too soon, for a gout of flame rushed through the shattered windows and played across the ship’s stern.

Teldin picked himself up and finished the little that remained of the circuit before returning to his camp. Along the way he found more bodies: men, apparently sailors, all dead. These dead were in no danger from the fire, soleldin hurried back to check on his prisoner.

The giff, or whatever it was, was still bound and apparently not conscious, but it stirred sluggishly. The burns and cuts on its face and hands did not seem too severe. There was a large lump on its temple, purplish green against the blue skin. Teldin guessed that a chunk of the exploding device had caused the bruise, laying the creature low.

“By all the gods, Teldin Moore! Are you alive, boy?” echoed Liam’s voice faintly over the rumble of the flames.

Teldin struggled to his feet, astonished to hear a friendly voice, any voice. “Liam! Over here!” he shouted through cupped hands. “Liam! By the creek!”

“Teldin,” Liam shouted back, “are you all right? What, by the gods, happened?” The skinny farmer scurried out of the darkness, pausing to climb over fallen timber. Panting he reached Teldin’s little camp. “Lords, you’re a mess!" Liam exclaimed between breaths. In the gloom of the trees the older man didn’t even notice the hog-tied giff or the dead female on the ground.

“Thank the gods you’re alive!” Liam rattled on, grabbing Teldin gratefully by the shoulders. “I thought for sure you’d been burned to cinders. The sky’s lit up clear on the other side of the ridge. When I saw it-well, that’s why I came. Are you all right, boy?”

“I’m fine, fine,” Teldin answered, almost breaking into laughter. Liam’s concern was touching, almost comical after the events of the night. “Oh, it’s good to see you, Liam!” Teldin burst out, grabbing his neighbor’s wiry arms.

Liam held Teldin’s shoulders as if he were afraid the young farmer would evaporate, then he sniffled back a tear of happiness. “What in all the Dark Queen’s Abyss happened-” Liam abruptly stopped, his eyes goggling at ground "-here?” he squeaked out at last. “And what, by the Queen herself, is that?” Liam stammered, pointing at Teldin’s hog-tied prisoner.

Teldin swallowed, his mouth parched. “That is a giff-I think. At least that’s what he said he was,” he answered hoarsely.

“A giff?” A dazed Liam mulled over the name, readily accepting Teldin’s answer. “But-but, what happened to your farm, boy?”

Teldin didn’t answer. He instead looked over Liam’s shoulder toward the blazing ruin that had been his cabin. Slowly he realized it was all gone-the cabin his grandfather had built, his father’s stone chimney, even the porch he’d built with his own hands.

“What’s going on here, Teldin? Draconians do this?” Liam asked in a gentler voice as he saw his young friend’s hollow stare.

Teldin snorted at the suggestion, Liam being so naively wrong. He shook his head. “I don’t really know, but…"

By the time Teldin finished his tale, the sun had cleared the eastern horizon. Liam sat cross-legged in the dirt, listening carefully the whole time. When Teldin got to the part describing the giffs attack, Liam shifted to where he could keep one eye on the prisoner. Teldin’s body sagged as he finished, and he noisily drank the water Liam offered.

“It’s quite a story, Tel. If I hadn’t seen it, I would’ve called you the damnedest liar in all the valley-by the Abyss, all of Kalaman. Flying ships, monsters, and dead wizards! I don’t think ships are meant to fly,” Liam offered sincerely.

“There were the flying citadels of the dragonarmies,” Teldin pointed out. “You never saw them, but those were big hunks of rock with castles on them. They weren’t supposed to fly either, but I saw one doing it at the battle of Kalaman.”

“But things like that don’t land on your farm!” Liam protested. “It’s not natural.”

Teldin mournfully looked at the remains of his cabin. The fires were finally starting to go out for lack of tinder. His house was a broken, smoking shell. Most of the larger logs were not split by the crash, but were charred black. The roof and everything else were gone. Most of the ship’s planking had burned or fallen away, leaving the framing ribs like black bones thrusting out of the earth. A few hunks of the deck clung precariously to the frame, giving some indication of the ship’s original form.

“It doesn’t matter whether they fly or not. This one did,” Teldin sadly commented.

“What’ll you do now, Teldin?” Liam asked, following Teldin’s gaze. “If you want, the valley folk could gather up and help you out.

The melon crop was destroyed, the house crushed, the chickens and geese lost. Even the goat had disappeared. Teldin tried not to sound defeated. “I do not know, Liam. I just do not know. Maybe I am not meant to be a farmer. Maybe it’s a sign from the gods.” Teldin rubbed at his short-cropped hair, brushing away a new layer of dirt and ash. “Damn it, Liam, things seemed to be going so well!” he burst out. “Crops were good. It was peaceful here. I thought, for once, maybe my life could be happy-after the war and all Teldin’s voice stopped in a knot of frustration and anger.

Liam awkwardly laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Look, we’ll just spread the word around. You’ve got friends here. The Stanish boys, the Harnweilers, even Lur Dal would come help. Things’ll be back to normal in no time. I’ve rebuilt from fires, too.” Teldin nodded numbly, letting Liam plan.

Behind the old farmer, the giff’s gray-blue bulk slowly stirred. He gave a deep rumbling groan, rolled to his side, and tried to get up. The creature flopped back to the ground, suddenly aware of his bindings. Teldin couldn’t be sure, but he had guessed from the sounds the thing made that it was male.

Liam scuttled away from the brute at its first movements. What’ll you do about that?” he whispered to Teldin, nodding toward the giff.

As an answer, Teldin stood with exaggerated care, moving his stiff muscles slowly. Taking the cutlass confiscated from the creature’s sash, Teldin stood over the giff and pointed the tip of the blade at the beast’s chest. The human was in no mood for subtlety. The giff stared up at him with small, deep-set eyes. “Who are you and why did you try to kill me?” Teldin demanded, trying to remember how the officers had interrogated prisoners during the war.

“Trooper Gomja, Red Grade, First Rank, Red Platoon,” the giff recited. Teldin was slightly taken aback by the giffs outburst. The creature spoke perfect common, though it was thickly accented. Teldin expected the giff to use some kind of foreign gibberish, like the female had the previous night. After all, hadn’t she used a spell to communicate with him?

“Fine, Gomja,” the farmer answered after regaining his composure. “I want to know why you attacked me and where, in all the god’s names, you came from!” Teldin’s voice became louder and higher until it was almost a hysterical shout. He pressed the blade against the giffs skin to emphasize his point.

The giff hesitated with his answer until a little more pressure from Teldin encouraged a response. “You killed and robbed my captain. It is my duty and honor to protect her. Therefore-”

“Walt-I killed your captain?” Teldin asked in disbelief. “And robbed her?”

“You wear her cloak,” the giff answered, as if that was all the proof needed.

“She gave it to me!” Teldin’s voice was rising to hysteria

again. Without dropping his guard on the giff, Teldin pointed to the body of the female he had pulled from the wreckage. “That’s your captain?”

The giff nodded.

Teldin stepped around and looked the giff straight in the eye. “Well, Trooper Gomja, you thick-headed lug,” he angrily informed his captive, “you had better know that your captain was dying when I found her. She gave me the cloak and told me to keep if from the neogi.” Teldin didn’t add that he had no idea who or what the neogi were.

As he listened, Gomja unflinchingly met the farmer’s glare. When the speech was over, the giff looked at his captain’s body, then back to Teldin. He did not speak, as if pondering the farmer’s words and his own situation. “You are a military man?” he finally asked.

Teldin was once again taken aback by the giff’s words. “No, I’m a farmer. Your ship ruined my farm.

“But you have served in the military,” Gomja insisted.

Teldin was amazed at the giff s perception. Cautiously, Teldin answered, “I was, sort of.” The farmer could not see what the creature’s point was.

“What was your rank?” the giff pressed.

Somewhat embarrassed and somewhat irked by the giffs questioning him, Teldin curtly replied. “1 was a mule skinner, if that is what you mean."

From behind the tree, Liam could not suppress a snort of surprise. “Mule skinner! I should’ve known, Teldin Moore!” Teldin glared at the older man, willing him to be quiet. The old farmer would probably hound him about his deception for years, Teldin figured, forgetting the giff for an instant.

The giffs jowls twitched and his jaw flexed as he considered the title. “Mule skinner,” he mouthed slowly, working over the words, which were obviously foreign to him. His little eyes met Teldin’s again, trying to look hard but not quite achieving that effect. “I have made an error,” Gomja conceded, his voice stiff with pride. “It was poor discipline for me to attack you. I give my oath that I will not attack you again. You can now release me safely.”

“Don’t do it, Teldin,” Liam shouted from behind the tree. “He’s probably a draconian’s misbegotten spawn!” The old farmer scurried over and grabbed one of the giffs knives from the pile, then quickly returned to the shelter of the tree trunk.

Teldin pondered. He studied the giff's face. The giff sat stiffly, his massive head held high, eyes pointedly staring at the wreckage. His uniform’s tattered remains completed the ludicrous appearance. In a way, the giff reminded Teldin of certain hard-nosed sergeants he had met or seen in the war.

“Don’t trust him, Teldin!” Liam shouted.

The younger farmer ignored his neighbor’s urging. As comical as the giff looked, there was something in his eyes that suggested honor. The giffs jaw was resolutely set and his gaze showed no signs of suspicion or betrayal. “Well, I can’t keep you tied up forever,” Teldin finally allowed. “I’ll release you, but that doesn’t mean I trust you- understand? Hold your hands out.” Teldin sawed away at the ropes with the cutlass. As the last strand popped, Teldin’s grip on the weapon tightened and he unconsciously braced for treachery. When the giff did not move, Teldin began cutting at the ropes around Gomja’s ankles.

Finally freed, Gomja awkwardly rose and loomed a good foot over Teldin. The giffs feet and hands were numb from the bindings, so he stood rubbing his wrists and stamping his feet. Each huge foot hit the ground with a solid thud. All three-Liam behind the tree, Teldin with the cutlass, and the towering giff-stared at each other. “I would like permission to search for the dead,” the giff finally asked.

Teldin almost expected the giff to add “sir” to the request, given the giffs tone. After looking at the captain’s body, its skin now a pale blue, he nodded his approval. “Liam,” he called, drawing his neighbor from behind the tree, “I found some bodies by the edge of the field last night. Take Trooper Gomja here out so he can bury them.” With that, Teldin handed the cutlass over to the skinny old man.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Liam groused. His eyes flicked fearfully toward the giff, who stoically waited for permission to start.

“I’ve got my own things to do,” was Teldin’s tired response. “I’ll be searching the house. They’re his dead, so let him bury them.”

“OK, Teldin,” Liam said with a nervous gulp, “if you say so. Now, get moving you-you giff.” Liam clumsily brandished the cutlass, trying to frighten the impassive giff. The creature gave Liam a look of contempt but finally acquiesced to the order.

As the other two marched off to find the bodies, Teldin picked his way across the broken yard to the cabin. The interior was not quite gutted. The corner farthest from the wreck seemed to have escaped the worst of the fire. Probing through the debris, Teldin recovered a few of his things not destroyed by the blaze. Protected under a fallen stone was a small gold medallion that once had belonged to his grandfather. A few clothes, a pair of heavy boots, and a pouch with a few steel coins had managed to escape the fire. Between these and what he wore, Teldin at least had clothing. Elsewhere he found a little salt, some softened cheese, and a toasted loaf of bread. Little more was salvageable.

Teldin looked at the medallion glinting in his hand. When he was little, he had wanted the medallion so badly, he remembered. Grandfather had used to tease him with it. Trembling with pain and bitterness, Teldin closed his eyes to stop the tears that now came. He had run away from his life once, thinking he was escaping to become a hero, only to spend three years in the war doing ugly jobs and learning the truth about a dirty world. It had taken three more years to make his peace and realize that the family farm was where he wanted to be. Now, all the things of his life were gone.

Finally swallowing his bitterness, Teldin set off to see how Liam was doing with the prisoner. He found the pair near the derelict’s stern, the giff standing in a shallow trench, digging it out with a board. Liam sat on a chest, his cutlass always ready. Three bodies lay on the ground nearby. Teldin marveled at Gomja’s strength, guessing that the giff had easily hefted all of the bodies at once. With each scrape of the board, the giff brought up huge amounts of dirt. Teldin squatted beside Liam, then took the opportunity to ask the giff questions.

“Where do you come from?”

“The void,” Gomja tersely answered, driving the board into the dirt.

“More likely the Abyss,” Liam hissed from his perch.

“Quiet, Liam,” Teldin softly cautioned. “The void?” Teldin asked Gomja. The human pointed toward the sky.

“Sort of,” Gomja grunted. “Out where the stars are.” The giff didn’t stop his work.

Teldin knew the giff was lying. Only the gods lived among the stars. Paladine’s, Takhisis’s, and the others’ constellations shone brightly every night. “If you are from the stars, what are you doing here?”

The giff stopped shoveling for a moment. “The ship was damaged in battle. Captain Hemar tried to bring us down for a safe landing, but the damage was too bad. We lost control and missed our target.

“Your target. You were going to land that thing?”

The giff nodded. “There is a large body of water north of here. The Penumbra could have landed there.”

“Whole thing’s crazy," Liam warned. “There ain’t no lakes around here. I tell you, Teldin, this thing’s lying.”

“North of here, eh?” As a soldier, Teldin had seen quite a bit more of the world than his friend. “Liam, I think he means Vingaard Bay.”

“But that’s way up by Kalaman! It’s a good dozen leagues from here,” Liam argued.

“Where else, Liarn? Like you say, there aren’t any lakes around here. Besides, it did fall from the sky,” Teldin pointed out. “It’s not like other things are impossible for it.” The giff ignored the pair and went back to work. Liam gave up the argument.

“You said the ship was damaged in battle. I want to know who you were fighting and why,” Teldin demanded in the most authoritative tone he could manage. Getting facts kept his mind from other things.

Gomja pondered a long time, scratching at the dirt with his board while he thought. “We battled a ship of the neogi. They sought to board us and take our crew prisoner.

“The neogi again!” Teldin said softly, remembering the warning given him by the dying captain- “You must keep it from the neogi”-as she pressed the cloak on him. “So what are neogi?”

Gomja looked surprised at the question, his ears wiggling. “The neogi are ravagers of worlds,” he answered, as if explaining the facts every child should know. “They do not seek trade, only to enslave and devour everyone they come across. They are the enemy of all folk in the void. Even the illithids deal with them cautiously.”

“Illithids?” Teldin started. “Oh, never mind.” Every question seemed to lead to more. Neogi, illithids, it was all getting too confusing. Teldin wanted to keep the conversation on the neogi, since at least the captain had mentioned them. “These neogi, will they come here?”

The question was obviously beyond the giffs estimation. “If your world is rich in life, I suppose they might appear someday.”

Teldin shook his head. “No, I mean now. Will the neogi come after your ship?”

Gomja still looked puzzled. “The Penumbra? I do not think so. The Penumbra was only a small merchantman. They are certain to think it was destroyed. Besides, I do not think their ship could land here.”

Then why did the captain warn him, Teldin wondered. It didn’t make any sense. But then, since last night, nothing in his life was making sense. More confused than when he started, Teldin gave up his questioning. He needed time to sort out what little he’d learned so far, then maybe he could try again.

Liam loudly kicked the chest he sat on. “Look what I found, Teldin. Must be a load of jewels and gold in it-and maybe steel! I found some other stuff, too.” Liam eagerly laid out his discoveries. A few pots, knives, two swords, and a handful of spearheads was the limit of Liam’s treasure. Teldin looked it all over and gave a shrug. Disappointed, the old farmer made of pile of the few useful goods he had found.

“Well, I’ll bet this has got the captain’s treasure in it,” Liarn exclaimed, clapping the chest with a solid thud. “I can’t get it open, though. Help me with this thing, Teldin.”

“No, not yet.” Teldin was dismayed by Liam’s eagerness to plunder the ship. The older farmer clearly believed salvage was their right. “We will put the chest with the other things. We can do it later. I’m tired, Liam. It’s been a long night.”

“Oh, well, if you want to wait, I can, too. I just figured there’d be something to help you get back on your feet,” Liam explained. “But, if you’re tired, why don’t you come over to my farm, Teldin. Eloise would be glad to know you’re safe, and we can fix you up with a meal and a bed.”

The offer was tempting, but Teldin just didn’t want to leave. It felt wrong abandoning his farm. Reluctantly he shook his head. “You’re kind and generous, Liam, but I can’t leave Trooper Gomja behind.” Teldin nodded toward the giff, still working in the grave. “What would Eloise say?”

Liam smiled at the thought. “There’d be hell to pay, that’s for sure. Sure you won’t come now?”

“Thank you, Liam, but no. I want to stay here. You go on home and come back tomorrow,” Teldin insisted. “We can open the chest tomorrow.

Liam sucked at his gums and finally realized that Teldin was right. If the boy wanted to stay, Liam would not force him. Standing, he dusted off his dirty trousers and looked toward the sky. The sun was edging toward noon. “Have it your way. Take care, Teldin.” Liam started to leave, then stopped and motioned Teldin to join him. “What about the big, blue thing?” Liam whispered, discreetly motioning toward the giff.

“Don’t worry, Liam. I tied him up once. I can do it again,” the young farmer assured.

Liam gave a worried sigh, but shrugged his shoulders in resignation. After good-byes, he hiked across the field and disappeared into the woods.

Teldin went back to the grave and helped Trooper Gomja with the last few shovelfuls, though he kept a wary eye on the giff as they worked. He was experienced at digging graves-too many of them-during the war. The task done, the farmer retreated while the big creature made a few quiet observances over the burial ground. By the time the giff turned away, Teldin had gathered a few barely ripe melons from the remains of his field. “Trooper,” he called out to the giff, “come and eat.” Teldin pointed to the melons, cheese, and bread he had set out. After saving the giff, the farmer was not about to let the creature starve. The wooden cups from the previous night held cool water.

The meal was simple but satisfying. With a knife Teldin sliced portions for himself and the giff. The melons were sweetly fragrant and a tender, pale green inside. “I’m going to need to sleep,” Teldin said between mouthfuls, “so I’m going to have to tie you back up.” He watched the trooper’s face for a reaction.

The giff shifted uncomfortably at the suggestion. “It is not the most pleasant way to pass the time,” he commented.

“I don’t have a whole lot of other choices,” Teldin tersely pointed out. He spit a melon seed into the dirt.

The giff sat up stiffly, as if at attention. “I give my word not to harm you if you will let me remain untied.”

Leaning back and scrutinizing the giffs face, Teldin considered the offer. ~‘Are you willing to swear an oath on that-and not to run off?”

“I have nowhere to go,” the giff pointed out. “But, for you, on my honor as a trooper of the giff, I will remain here as your-uh-bodyguard. That way, you will know I will not harm you.

Teldin wasn’t sure if the giff was up to some trick or just naively honest. Instead of trying to figure it out, though, he decided to take the risk. “On your word, then.” All the same, Teldin planned to sleep lightly. Making a simple bed, he lay with the cutlass and knives close at hand under the edge of his blankets. Glancing toward the giff, who sat straight-backed under a tree, Teldin spoke, “I suggest you make yourself comfortable and get some rest also.”

The giff looked solemnly at the farmer. “I gave my oath to protect you. That is my duty.”

Teldin gave up worrying whether he’d made a mistake and tried to remove the cloak, but the clasp was jammed and wouldn’t open. With a sigh, he gave that up, too, for some well-deserved rest; he could fix the clasp later. Within seconds the farmer was sound asleep.