‘Dragons, sir?” Gomja asked, suddenly perking up. “And dragonlances?” In his mind, the giff was trophy collecting.
“Three dragons,” Teldin answered, continuing his story while ignoring Gomja’s curiosity. “The knights had lured them in somehow, killed the lot, and then left them there. When we got to the tower, the bodies were still in the courtyards. We couldn’t bury the dragons-they were way too big, even too big to drag out through the gates-so we had to butcher them on the spot. Then we carried the slabs of frozen meat out onto the plain and burned them with the little firewood we had.” Teldin stopped his tale, waiting for the images to fade from his mind.
“That’s what war was like,” Teldin finished, looking down at the giff.
On the other side of Teldin, Vandoorm nodded in agreement. “That and waiting,” he added. “Go places and wait. Tel, you learn well.”
Gomja said nothing, at first, just looked back at Teldin. Then, with a grotesquely cheerful smile and a touch of braggadocio, he said, “It is a good thing giff are known as good soldiers. My people are always put in the forefront of the battle.”
“That’s a great place to die,” Vandoorm observed. He spat on the ground, then wiped his beard on his sleeve.
Gomja stood stiffly upright. “It is the only place to gain honor,” he insisted.
“There’s not much honor in being dead, Gomja,” Teldin said. With a flick of the reins, he brushed a fly away from his mount’s golden mane.
“A bold death does great honor to the platoon.” Gomja double-timed his step to keep pace with Teldin’s horse. “When Commander Finlei lost half his command at Burgg’s Rock, his platoon became one of the most feared- and highest paid-in five spheres. Everyone wanted to join his command. They always had work.”
Vandoorm laughed a snorting chuckle. “Creature, you speak like a true mercenary!” He picked at something in his beard, then spurred his horse forward, trotting to the head of the column, where Brun One-Eye rode.
His old friend gone, Teldjn dropped off his saddle to walk beside Gomja. “So those in this platoon died because someone paid them to?” Teldin couldn’t imagine anyone volunteering for such a deed.
“To defend the Rock was an honor, sir. Isn’t that why everyone fights?” Gomja looked down at Teldin, now alongside him. “After all, why did you join the army, sir?”
Teldin tried to remember his motives while he steered around a puddle. “When the war broke out, I was young,” he answered slowly. “I heard stories about the cruelties of the dragonarmies. I was going to go out and right those wrongs, protect the world from their injustice.” The farmer looked to see if Gomja was paying attention to his meanings, not just listening to the words. The giffs ears were turned slightly his way, so Teldin continued. “The war showed me that things weren’t quite that way, weren’t that simple. Like Vandoorm said, I was ready to save Estwilde and wipe the draconians from the face of Ansalon all by myself. By the end of it, I was happy that we made a truce-even if there were still lands in draconian hands. I just wanted to go home.” Teldin abruptly stopped and looked to the top of the canyon walls. “Defeating injustice just wasn’t all that simple, Gornja.”
The giff, a little ahead, turned and looked back. “If you say so, sir,” he murmured. His ears lay flat as he spoke. Gomja waited for Teldin to join him, and the two walked on in silence.
Late that afternoon, Vandoorm called a halt for the day. A side canyon, somewhat broader at the bottom than their own valley, looked like a good site for their camp. The company turned off the main road and picked its way around the rubble field of an old landslide. Leading men and horses, the captain let his scouts find a good section of level, sheltered ground. There the troop pitched their bed- rolls under the boughs of the mountain pines.
In the deep cuts of the canyons, the darkness of shadowed night flowed swiftly over the bottom. The peaks and ridges shone in golden pinks and browns while the valleys were filled with deepening gloom. A peacefulness settled over the group, quieting their normally boisterous evening meal.
The days of hard riding were finally catching up with Teldin, especially since the pace had at last slowed down. He was too tired to supervise Gomja’s cooking, something he had carefully done up to now. The gift’s tastes were different, to say it nicely. While the giff fussed over the stew pot on the fire, Teldin watched the stars slowly emerge through the fading twilight. When dinner came, Teldin regretted his inattention; looking at a bowl of green shreds swimming in a yellow broth, Teldin couldn’t help but be suspicious. “What is this?” he asked.
“
Again, without knowing how, Teldin mentally translated
The meal finished, Teldin hit the sack. Gomja, as was his habit, huddled near the fire and kept watch. Eventually the giff would trade shifts with Teldin, but the farmer suspected Gomja always let the human sleep a few hours longer than was arranged. Still, the mountain nights were cold and Teldin was more than happy to wrap himself in blankets. When Gomja wasn’t watching, Teldin dug into his pack for a strip of jerky. In the darkness, he gratefully gnawed on the tough, salty chunks of dried meat. A vegetarian he was not.
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
