by David Cook
“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, Liam? 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, th
e 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.
Chapter Three
Teldin was shocked out of sleep by a hand clapped over his mouth. Struggling, he tried to sit up, only to be easily forced down. Standing out dimly against the night sky was the giff’s form, which made him struggle all the more frantically. Damn his trust! Teldin thought, infuriated with his own sense of honor. He wanted to shout in anger, but the gift’s hand blocked all but a soft gurgle. Teldin groped for the cutlass under the blankets.
The giff raised one fat finger to its jowled face, signaling for silence. Then, slowly and carefully, Gomja pointed toward the wreck of the Penumbra. Teldin twisted his head around to see a small cluster of lights coming out of the woods on the far side of the dale. It took a while to find the cutlass, tangled in the blankets, but finally his fingers wrapped around the hilt.
“Neogi!” Gomja whispered. Once he was certain the human understood, the giff released his grip.
Teldin gaped. “What, them? How do you know? It could be neighbors.” Teldin suddenly realized it was dark, not daylight. “How long have I been asleep?” He demanded.
The giff ignored the last question. “Not humans,” he insisted in his thick accent. “Listen to the voices.
Straining, Teldin could barely make out a droning, clicking noise floating faintly on the breeze. It was clearly nothing he had ever heard before. The giff’s certainty was convincing. “What do they want?”
“I don’t know,” Gomja answered. “The Penumbra?”
“What do we do?”
“We could fight them.”
Teldin studied the advancing lights. “Are you mad?” Judging from the giff’s set look, he was mad. “There are too many.” Teldin glanced over his shoulder to the woods behind them. “We’ll hide. Come on.” With his eyes adjusted, the farmer led the way along the stream, following it past the cottonwoods and into the trees. Gomja brought up the rear, and Teldin’s only fear was that the giff might really try to attack. Things were already bad enough, and getting killed was not the way to improve his day.
The pair crept along, doing their best not to make any noise until they reached a tangle of fallen logs. Teldin knew this spot from back when he had a farm, he sardonically thought; the hens kept getting out of the coop and hiding their nests in the downed branches. The farmer now worked his way into the middle, showing Gomja where not to step. At the center was a small clear space, large enough for the two of them and little else. From this hiding place the pair had a clear view of the Penumbra, the desolate wreckage barely lit by the mingled light of the moons and the coming dawn.
The procession of lights, steady and unflickering, swarmed over the Penumbra, carried by creatures Teldin could only barely make out. It was difficult to estimate their numbers. Only a few creatures were silhouetted; most were nothing but vague shapes moving just beyond the range of light. The creatures were gigantic, possibly as large as the giff who crouched beside Teldin. They seemed to have no heads, only thick, bulbous lumps in place of the necks and skulls. Huge fangs, grotesquely long, thrust out from the sides of these lumps. The rest of each body was hard and stocky, with arms overly long. The torchlight glistened off the monsters’ backs as if off armor. Each was carrying something in its arms, something that writhed and twisted. The forms merged into the darkness like a single, surging creature that flowed over the wreck.
“What are they searching for – the cloak?” Teldin whispered.
The giff eyed the human with a start, then answered as quietly as he could, his bass voice still a rumble. “Why would they search for the captain’s cloak?” he asked suspiciously.
&nbs
p; Teldin nervously gripped the fabric and pulled the cloak tighter about him. What made this cloak so special? “Just a hunch,” Teldin awkwardly answered.
Aboard the broken Penumbra, the shapes continued to prowl. Teldin could make 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.
