Free Beyond the Moons by David Cook Page A

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 from 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.
     

Chapter Five
    Teldin awoke the next morning after a restless night of dark images that haunted his sleep. The dreams had roused him from slumber and left him sleepless in the dark. Teldin had stared into the night sky, tracing the paths of Krynn’s two visible moons, silvery smooth and featureless Solinart and the freckled red orb that was Lunitari. The world’s third moon, Nuitari, was invisible to all but the sinister wizards of the Black Robes. Each time Teldin drifted off to sleep he was wakened again when the frightful dreams returned.
    When the sun had risen, the dreams were mercifully banished. Only small memories