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
