out voices, but the words were strange and lost on the wind. The sounds were unnatural, bleats and snarls mingled with sharp clicking noises. It was a language of menace and hate, and it made Teldin shudder as he listened.
It sounded like a pack of starving foxes, snarling and snapping at each other and punctuated by sudden shrieks. A squabble had broken out among the creatures. The human slid forward to gain a better view among the branches. Abruptly, part of the mass surged away from the graves and began moving in his direction. Animal instincts taking over, the farmer froze like a deer in the brush.
As the figures drew closer, Teldin could see that the single shapes were indeed two completely different creatures. The main forms were giant brutes, and now he could tell they were even taller than the giff. The beasts’ legs were comically short, forcing them to move with shuffling strides, but their arms were enormous. He was certain that they had no neck or proper head, only a broad dome on the shoulders. The fangs weren’t fangs, but pincers, like those of a beetle, growing out of the side of this dome.
The second shapes were cradled in the brutes’ arms. Each was about the size of goat or large dog; their bodies were round and saclike. Dangling from each body was a mass of small, narrow legs. Long, snaky heads probed and darted over their porters’ arms. From the little creatures’ sharp tones Teldin judged the smaller ones as the masters, the larger brutes the slaves.
The small band was moving along the edge of the woods, drawing closer to Teldin and Gomja. Teldin lay where he was, afraid to move back and join the giff, but also afraid of what the giff might do if he were not restrained. The muscles in his arms began to tremble. Teldin fought the spasms, trying to hold as still as possible. By now, the creatures were almost alongside.
The group stopped no more than a hoe’s length from Teldin. There was a quick exchange of words. “. . . away trail . . . woods. . . come others maybe.” The words were foreign, but Teldin somehow understood. As he pressed back into the branches, he hardly had time to ponder on this new wonder.
One of the brutes lowered its master to the trail, breaking off any further discussion. The little ball-shaped body poised on spidery legs while the small eel-like head wove over the path, the narrow eyes glinting over some tiny details. “This way one go,” it hissed to the others standing around. “Two send and find. Before morning two must go. Raise me up,” the little creature ordered to its slave.
“Yes, little master,” intoned the hulking drudge. As the beast stooped to retrieve its overlord, Teldin caught a glimpse of its face. There were two sets of eyes. At the center, mashed in over a toothy maw, was a pair of pinched, evil lights filled with cunning. These alone were enough to raise a shudder, but the other set made Teldin veritably weak. Spaced on the outermost part of the beast’s dome, they were bulging, multifaceted orbs. These eyes were strange and swirling, and for an instant, Teldin didn’t know what to do. He wanted to leap and charge, run in fear, cower, and cry out all at once. The effect was nauseating and confusing. Teldin’s mind reeled until he forced himself to think of other things-Grandfather on the porch, companions from the war, even the quiet days fishing in the nearby ponds. He focused his thoughts on these, forcing the vertigo from his mind.
By the time his head had cleared, the creatures were moving away. “Hope, let us, your
Risking discovery, Teldin slid back to where the giff was sheltered. The big, blue creature was half-standing, his club in hand. Teldin grabbed a sleeve and pulled the giff down. “You,” he hissed. “Those things have taken the trail to Liam’s farm. What are they likely to do?”
The giff looked earnestly at the human. “I told you. They are killers, ravagers of worlds.” He did not need to say more.
“We’ve got to do something,” Teldin moaned.
“Give me a weapon and I am ready to fight,” Gomja rumblingly announced.
The giffs bravado brought home to Teldin the precariousness of their position. With so many of the creatures and only two of them, there was no chance of winning a battle. Even following the neogi into the woods was dangerous, provided they could escape the notice of the creatures at the wreck. Teldin wanted to go forward and help, but he was certain the neogi would discover them if the pair moved at all. Torn between fear and loyalty to his friend, Teldin balked, unable to reach a decision. Common sense urged him to stay where he was. Liam was his friend, though. He had to remember that, Teldin thought. It was cowardice to abandon the old farmer without trying, evenif the attempt was hopeless. Swallowing back his fear, Teldin decided to brave a journey to Liam’s farm.
The giff knelt silently beside him, barely restraining himself from charging amid the neogi. For a second the human considered abandoning the big alien and setting out on his own. Teldin did not owe the giff anything and did not even particularly trust the creature. He had tried to kill Teldin once already. Gomja had warned him of the neogi’s arrival, though. Furthermore, the giff just might hold the answers to what was now happening to Teldin’s life.
Loyalty finally won out. Teldin nodded to the watchful giff. “We’re going to Liam’s. Come on.
The giff did not move. “1 cannot leave my captain,” the tall, blue one insisted.
“Your captain’s dead. Liam’s not,” Teldin snapped, almost forgetting and raising his voice. “We go where I say!”
The giff did not take a second urging. Rising slowly, he began to push through toward the path. Before Gomja had managed two lumbering steps, Teldin pulled him back. “Not that way,” the human ordered. “We’ll follow the stream.”
Moving with as much silence and grace as they could manage, the pair splashed along the water’s edge. Several times Teldin came to an abrupt halt, fearful that the neogi had heard their passage. Finally, the two reached the mossy bank. The water gurgled past the small stones and sticks, hiding their movements. In a short time, Teldin was certain they were beyond the range of any possible discovery.
“Hurry up!” Teldin ordered, forcing the pace as hard as possible. The heavy-set and stocky-legged giff was no sprinter, but he lumbered along the bank as best he could. Following the stream was longer than the trail the two neogi scouts had taken, and Teldin had already wasted too much time with his own indecision. With his choice made, the young farmer was suddenly afraid for his neighbor. If the neogi meant ill, old Liam would have poorer luck than a chicken against a fox.
The first lights of dawn were tinting the leaves of the wood, providing just enough light for Teldin to pick the path. Night birds whispered through the branches, telling the secrets of the trees. Teldin wondered briefly if they sang of the neogi passing. A few crickets sawed out their songs, and the frogs from the stream answered, only to fall silent as the pair neared. Behind them, the frogs reluctantly resumed their chorus. The air over the stream was chill and damp, but Teldin barely noticed.
“How far is it?” the giff asked, shattering Teldin’s growing anxiety. The giff seemed to march along with no appreciation of the world around him, the powers that surrounded them. He stomped along mechanically, easily avoiding the roots and tangles. The farmer guessed the giff was one of those blessed with the “elven-sight,” as his grandfather had called it, the superb night vision of that kind.
“Across the ridge and then just a little farther,” Teldin answered, somewhat annoyed with his big companion. He kept his voice to a whisper.
“What are you going to do?” Gomja asked.
Teldin wondered if the giff was just dense. “Warn Liam, of course.”
“And if he’s dead?”
Teldin spun about in rage. “He won’t be.” He snapped out the words through clenched teeth. “Now quiet. You don’t know what’s nearby.”
“Listen, human,” the giff pressed. “Give me a weapon-a dagger or one of the big knives. If we have to fight, I want to be ready.”
Teldin turned away as he spoke. “Why should I trust you?” he challenged.
“Because you’re a groundling farmer and I am a warrior of the giff,” Gomja answered plainly. Another might have made the words boastful, but from him it was a statement of fact. “If I meant to kill you, I could do it now. I could’ve killed you while you slept.”
Teldin bit his lip. The giff was right, but knowing that did not make his decision any easier. Finally he stopped,
