Beyong the Moons

Chapter Four

Work made things easier for both Teldin and the giff, blocking out the thoughts of what had happened in Liam’s house. While Gomja shoveled graves in the rocky soil behind the cabin, Teldin scrounged through the barn, looking for something to use as a marker. At last he split a clean wedge from a log and crudely carved “Shal” on it. Elegance didn’t matter since the board was only temporary. Teldin planned to come back later with proper headstones.

The giff came clumping around the house and stiffly announced, “The graves are finished.” The morning sun was already climbing into the sky and the dew was starting to steam away. The giff mopped his expansive brow with a rag.

Sitting on his log, Teldin kept whittling at the marker, not looking up. He was reluctant to get on with this burial, more than any other he had done. The knife pared away another strip of wood.

“Sir?” the giff spoke again.

Teldin bit his lip, then thrust the knife with a fierce jab into a fence post. “Let’s get it over with.” His voice was tight and grim, edged with exhaustion that was fast overtaking him. He stood slowly and followed the giff back around the house.

The bundled bodies lay in a neat row near the stone wall behind Liam’s house. Not too far away, under a scraggly tree, were four holes in the ground. The fresh earth was heaped in a great mound alongside. Teldin and Gomja lowered the bodies one at a time into the graves and shoveled the dirt back over them. Teldin worked slowly, letting the monotonous task numb his mind.

When they eventually finished, both stood unmoving in front of the graves. The giff simply watched the human, waiting for some sign of what to do next. Teldin stared at the fresh earth and tried to remember a prayer. During the war, when he had to work the burial details, the Seekers had chanted while they worked. He had never paid much attention to the prayers then and now none came to mind. “Good-bye, Liam, Eloise. Paladine protect you all," the young farmer said softly. It was all he could think of saying. As far he was concerned, nothing more needed to be said.

“What about the neogi?” Trooper Gomja quietly asked. The giffs words broke Teldin’s trance. Without acknowledging Gomja’s presence, the farmer turned back to the house. “There, beneath Abyssal gates, I choose my way,” Teldin whispered, remembering a snatch of verse his grandfather had taught him. He didn’t know why the thought came to him now, but he could clearly remember Grandfather teaching him the words as they walked through the fields. Teldin couldn’t have been more than ten at the time.

“What will you do now?” Gomja asked again. The giff plodded to where Teldin stood, a spade still in his hand.

Teldin was tired, too tired to plan. “I don’t know. I don’t care,” he bitterly answered. “Go back to the…"

Teldin stopped. He had been about to say his farm, but he didn’t have one anymore, or at least not much of one. He needed money to buy supplies for rebuilding. Trooper Gomj a’s expectant expression, turned attentively toward Teldin, forced the farmer to think, and he suddenly knew where to go. He had cousins in Kalaman, and they could help him. At any rate, it was better than staying around

here-but the giff was not part of this plan.

“Sir?”

“Back to the farm,” Teldin hastily said. That was all the giff needed to know.

“And then what, sir?” Gomja pressed.

Then I leave you behind, Teldin thought with a shake of his head. He began to feel the strains of the last two nights. Labor, pain, terror, and rage had worn the threads of his mind thin. “I want to go home.” The giff nodded in understanding, his broad muzzle bobbing up and down. “Now, let’s get out of here before the valley folk show up.”

“Or the neogi return,” Trooper Gomja grimly added.

Teldin let the giff lead the way back through the forest, occasionally pointing out the right path. The morning birds were already falling silent in the midday heat. Squirrels chattered at their passage. In the clearings Teldin could look back and see the lonely buildings of Liam’s farm in the bright light. He was glad to be away from the site.

Once across the ridge, Teldin felt a weight lift off him. The terrors of the night were still firmly fixed in his mind, but he had left Liam’s farm behind. Both the fear of discovery and the shame that he felt eased. His brain became numbed, focusing only on the simple task of walking.

When they reached the edge of Teldin’s melon field, Trooper Gomja reverted to his old caution, halting their march in the bushes. The giff carefully picked his way to the edge of the field and knelt in the cover of some brambles. The big creature patiently scanned the shattered farmyard.

As he stood near the kneeling giff, Teldin wondered, too, if the neogi were really gone. Trying to watch with the same vigilance, Teldin looked over his farm’s broken remains. The destruction seemed less from this angle than he actually feared. The cabin was a complete loss, as were most of the melons, but the other fields seemed unharmed. I can recover, he thought optimistically, with a little money and time. All I need is money, from somewhere.

“It looks very quiet,” the giff announced. Teldin could already see that, and he moved to head down the trail. The farmer was brought up short when Gomja laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. “But there might be hidden scouts. Shall I go out and see?” The giff stood, ready to go.

Teldin checked his first impulse to give approval. It was his farm, he decided, and he wasn’t going to hide behind a seven-foot-tall walking hippopotamus. It grated against his pride. Besides, as he looked up into the big creature’s dark eyes, Teldin again didn’t trust his companion. The problem was that he still didn’t trust the giff at his back either. Maybe the giff had saved his life, but the yeoman still remembered how they had met. “You stay,” Teldin ultimately chose, letting pride win out. “I’ll go. If I signal, then everything should be safe.”

“Yes, sir,” Gomja said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Staying along the tree line, Teldin loped down to the Penumbra’s debris. The morning sun gave the wreckage the feeling of a majestic ruin left over from the days before the Cataclysm had shattered Ansalon. Fire-scarred and broken pieces suggested great age in the same way as the moldering halls of the High Clerist’s Tower near Palanthas. The crushed cabin beneath the Penumbra's bow broke the illusion, reminding Teldin of the things he had lost. Near enough now to see the details of the ship, Teldin scouted quickly for any sign of the creatures from the night before. All seemed peaceful. Even the songbirds had begun to sing again. Teldin waved an “all clear” to Gomja, though he was uncertain whether the giff would appear. The big alien quickly strode into the clearing, shoving the knife into his sash. Perhaps, Teldin speculated, the giff could be trusted.

“They’re gone!” Teldir shouted. He settled down at the base of a tree and stabbed the cutlass into the earth beside him. He felt giddy, the burden of fear suddenly lifted. It was an irrational impulse given the horrors of the night, but still he could not help the feeling. Teldin adjusted the cloak and leaned against the tree, relishing for a few seconds the feeling of peace.

Trooper Gomja slowly walked down to join the human, warily circling the ship’s remains before he settled down. “They are gone."

“Thank the gods,” Teldin added, slightly vexed that the giff did not seem to believe him.

“Perhaps.” Gomja looked toward the wreck. “The neogi dug up the graves. The bodies are gone." The giffs voice was cold and unfeeling.

Teldin’s good feeling collapsed inside him as a surge of dread replaced it. “The graves? They dug them up? Why?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” Gomja bellowed. He turned his broad face, twisted with a snarl, on the startled human. Exhaustion finally broke the giffs strict discipline, releasing a wave of rage and frustration. “They kill things. They kill everything. I’m just a trooper, not an expert on neogi! They’ve killed my captain, they’ve killed my friends, and I didn’t even die fighting them like a true giff!”

Teldin sat stunned by the huge creature’s outburst. Only a few moments before, Teldin was ready to trust the creature, but in this instant he felt no such security. Teldin glanced at the cutlass jammed into the earth and slowly slid his hand toward the weapon. The giffs savage tone dispelled any of Teldin’s illusions concerning the creature’s peaceful nature.

Before the human could reply, Trooper Gomja wheeled away. The giffs shoulders shook as he strode through the wreckage, giving a few well-placed kicks to the loose wood in his path. Teldin sagged back, exhaling the breath he had held since the beginning of the creature’s tirade. He felt anger and relief all at once. At least, Teldin mused, giff are like humans in some ways. They both need to blow off steam.

There were noises from Gomja rummaging through the wreckage, and although Teldin knew he should see what the giff was up to, he felt it was much wiser to give the big creature some privacy. He needed some for himself, too. Teldin basked in the sun and deliberately tried not to think. It didn’t work; grief and sorrow came over him and sitting alone only highlighted the pain. He cursed himself for his weakness, for killing Liam and his family.

A regular beating noise, like stone whacking stone, roused the farmer. At first he thought it might be the drumming of a woodland grouse, but he quickly discarded that notion. Nearby was Gomja, beating at something with a heavy stone. A concerned Teldin strolled over, trying his best to look casual about the giffs activities. He did not care to trigger another of the alien’s tantrums.

The giff was crouched over a chest, the one Liam had found the day before, and was hammering at the lid with a big stone held in his two hands. The trooper was intent on his work and did not notice Teldin coming up behind him.

“Trooper Gomja,” Teldin said softly but firmly, “what are you doing?”

The startled giff dropped the rock at Teldin’s words. He scuttled around, his face dark purple with embarrassment. “I was just trying to open it, sir. There may be useful things inside.” From the way the giff sounded, Teldin was reminded of the time his father had caught him playing with his grandfather’s sword. Teldin could understand the giffs curiosity, but, all the same, he had to scowl disapprovingly. The giff looked contrite, his ears and jowls drooping.

Asharp reply hung on Teldin’s tongue, but he held it back. The chest was a distraction and one they both obviously needed. “Go ahead then,” the human ordered, watching from over the giffs broad shoulder.

After the battering Trooper Gomja had already given it, the chest was not difficult to open. One of the hinges was sprung and it only took a little prying with his dagger to work the other loose. Gomja pulled the entire lid off, then easily tossed it aside and carefully began removing the contents. Teldin watched interestedly over the giff’s shoulder. The chest held mostly books and papers. As the trooper pulled them out, Teldin made a stack of the thick, bound volumes. They looked like old ship’s logs, packed away for safekeeping. Pressed between them were folded sheets of heavy linen paper. Teldin opened one to find that it was a large sheet covered with symbols, diagrams, and notes in a strange language. The farmer held it up for Gomja to see.

“Rudders-star charts, I think,” the giff answered after a brief look, “for navigating. The captain had many of these.”

“These aren’t charts for any stars over Krynn. Where’s the Balance or Paladine?” Teldin commented as he studied the symbols, trying to match them to the positions of the constellations he knew.

“It is probably for a different sphere, not yours.” Gomja looked at the chart that Teldin held in front of him.

“Sphere?” Teldin asked, cocking his head slightly toward the giff.

Gomja struggled to explain. Navigation and charts were clearly not his strong suits. “There are other worlds like this one, but different. These are spheres.”

“You mean like Solinari or the other moons.” Teldin thought he understood.

“No, sir,” Gomja corrected, unconsciously addressing Teldin as his superior. “The spheres hold moons, worlds, even stars.

“So you come from another sphere?” Teldin asked the giff.

“Yes, sir."

Comes from the Abyss, more likely, Teldin thought. Yet the gift’s explanation seemed to make sense. Certainly Teldin, in all his travels, had never seen or heard of anything that resembled a giff. “Grandfather always wondered if there was something out in the night sky, beyond the moons. Maybe he was right.” His grandfather, Halev, had shown Teldin there was more to the world than just the farm, and maybe there was more than even his grandfather knew. Teldin’s father never did understand that or any of Teldin’s other dreams. Amdar had no time for dreams. That was one of the reasons Teldin had run away to fight in the war.

“Let’s finish this,” Teldin decided, breaking out of the coil of his memories.

The giff returned his attention to emptying the chest. Out came more books and papers, then a layer of clothing. Teldin held up a shirt, clearly too small for his lanky frame. It was richly made with silken fabric and gold embroidery. Teldin carefully folded the shirt and set it aside.

The last things in the chest were three bags and a long, leather-wrapped bundle. Two of the bags were rather large. Teldin opened the first sack, only to find it contained a dirty white powder. The second was equally disappointing, containing a coarse gray powder. The third pouch was no better, for it held nothing but lead marbles. Carefully undoing the thongs on the leather bundle, Teldin unwrapped two short, curved sticks, bound in metal and each fitted with a tube. Strange mechanisms protruded from the sides. They had the same general look of the stick Gomja had threatened him with the night the Penumbra had crashed.

“By the blessing of the Great Captain,” Gomja huskily breathed, “he has remembered me!” He slid closer. Even on his knees the giff was not a small person.

Teldin picked one of the tubes up and examined it. He shook it and heard something rattle. He looked into the tube, but it was dark. A short metal rod fell out. The mechanisms on the side seemed to move stiffly, and one of them held a small piece of flint. Teldin tried to hold the stick the way he remembered Gomja holding it. Pointing the tube toward the giff, he demanded, “What is it?”

Gomja stepped out of the direct line of the barrel. “It is a pistol. May I have it?”

“Pis-tol? Last night, you pointed this at me and it exploded. Why?” Teldin made no effort to hide his suspicion.

The giff bit at his lip, a comical sight for one so heavily jowled. “I thought you meant harm to my captain.”

“So this is a weapon, isn’t it?”

The giff nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Gnomish work,” Teldin speculated as he turned the pistol over and over in his hands. The gnomes were notorious inventors and tinkerers, equally notorious for their inventions’ spectacular failures. “Must be, from the way it blew up. For now, I’ll keep them,” Teldin told the giff as he wrapped the bizarre weapons back up.

“What about the bags?” the giff asked, trying to conceal his disappointment.

For a moment, Teldin considered claiming those, too. He couldn’t fathom what their purpose was. “Wizard things,” Teldin guessed. “I say leave them, but you can take them if you want.” Magic was not something Teldin cared to dabble with. It was too dangerous, unpredictable, and even corrupting.

The giff carefully took them up and checked to make sure the strings on each bag were tight. Satisfied, he tucked the bundles into the dirty orange folds of his sash. “Thank you, sir.”

The giffs mammoth jaw opened in a huge yawn, exposing two rows of huge, blockish teeth.

Teldin suppressed a bemused smile. “When did you last sleep?” the farmer asked. He felt somewhat rested while his companion looked far ftom soothed.

“Two days, sir,” Gomja replied, closing his huge maw.

Apparently, Teldin figured, being blasted unconscious by your own weapon didn’t count as sleep. “Then go get some rest,” Teldin gently said. Gomja opened his mouth to protest, but Teldin cut him off. “That was an order, Trooper Gomja,” he said firmly.

The giff let out a big sigh. “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

Teldin pointed to the shade of a big elm. “Right now- over there.” Gomja nodded and with no more protesting hauled himself into the cool gloom, where he fixed up a simple bed, using a root for a pillow. Within a few minutes, the leaves overhead were shaking from the giffs deep snores.

His own worries momentarily put aside, Teldin leaned back against the tree. “Someone should stay on guard," he said to himself. He had barely finished the words before his own eyes shut and sleep again overtook him.