David Cook: Beyong the Moons

“The who? The what?” Teldin queried. None of this made any sense and he wasn’t getting any answers. He easily shook off her grip. “Why? What are the neogi?” he practically shouted.

“Wear it. Now,” the stranger insisted. With her one hand, she tried to place the cloak around his neck, wincing in pain to roll free of the purple fabric.

“What are you doing?” Teldin was more puzzled than frightened by her determination.

“Take it,” she demanded even more urgently.

“Why-no, explain why,” Teldin said, refusing her, as his prudent nature asserted itself.

“Take the cloak!” the woman-thing said more fiercely than before. She bared her teeth with a certain savage fury, but the fire in her eyes grew even weaker.

The effort was killing her, Teldin realized in dismay. “Stop. I’ll take it,” he assured her. Taking the silver chains, Teldin laid the cloak around his shoulders, though he did not fasten the clasp. The purple gleamed richly in the leaping firelight. “I have it. Now what’s going on here?”

The female gave a rattling sigh. “No more questions. I am dead.” Her hand dropped limply and the light went finally from her eyes.

“What? You can’t just die now!” Teldin blurted, even though he knew it was futile. He had seen enough dead to know it was too late for her. He sat amid the wreckage of his house, the dead female in his arms, and felt indignant, used, and mystified. The creature had no right to die now, he fumed. He had only accepted the cloak to keep her alive. “What, by the gods, is going on?” he asked aloud to no one. He held up an edge of the cloak, looking for mystical symbols or anything. He saw nothing but dark purple cloth. “Why kill yourself to give it to me? It can’t be worth much.” Teldin looked down at the female as if expecting an answer. "And just who are the neogi? By the Abyss, who are you?” He paused, as if to hear her reply.

“Stand, assassin, so I may kill you!” boomed a voice behind him.

Like a flushed fox, Teldin sprang to his feet and spun about, hoe in hand, the cloak flapping over his arm. The farmer choked back an enraged outcry, for on the opposite side of the wall stood a massive form half-concealed by a tangle of spars and deck planking. The blazing debris grotesquely illuminated the bestial creature-so unlike any Teldin had seen-that lurched from the wreck.

It stood stiff and upright like a seasoned knight, though it was a good seven feet tall and almost half that in width across its shoulders. Thick shadows marked its heavy jowls, its large sagittal crest, and the deep pits of its nostrils. The creature had a face like a hippopotamus, but the skull was flatter, with pert little ears at the top of its head. It was difficult to tell in the firelight, but Teldin thought the creature’s skin looked bluish gray. Its two legs were like tree trunks and its chest was as big around as the old water barrel that used to stand beside the house.

The thing wore trousers and a tight-fitting blouse adorned with ribbons; the whole outfit was now badly ripped. A broad, orange sash was wrapped around its thick waist, and in it was tucked a collection of mismatched knives and a worn cutlass. As Teldin stared dumbly, the beast stumbled forward over rubble, not taking its small, dark eyes off the human. It kept one arm stiffly outstretched and pointed directly at the farmer at all times. In this hammy, blue fist was a strange, curved stick of metal and wood, aimed at Teldin’s head.

“Assassin and thief, before you die, know that your slayer is Trooper Herphan Gomja, Red Grade, First Rank, First Platoon of the Noble Giff,” the creature gloweringly intoned. “When your soul gets to wherever it goes, remember my name!”

“No, wait!” shouted Teldin in a desperate attempt to explain. “I didn’t kill-”

“It is too late, groundling!” the big blue-gray beast bellowed back. His thick finger squeezed down on a small lever on the underside of the stick. Paralyzed more by astonishment than fear, Teldin was rooted in place. A scorching wind from the blazing wreck sucked up a rain of cinders and ash and swirled it around them. The cloak fluttered and flapped in the breeze. The stick gave a mighty flash and roar, dazzling Teldin but breaking the spell that bound him in place. Blinded and deafened, he flailed out with the hoe, missed, slipped on a loose stone, crashed over a tangle of wood, and sprawled on the ground. Panting and blinking while scrambling back to his feet, the farmer waited for the big creature to strike, but nothing happened.

By blinking furiously, Teldin cleared his eyes, though a bright spot from the flash still hung at the center of his vision. There was a strange, acrid smell that overpowered even the smokiness of the fire. Turning about, he saw the trailings of an iron-blue cloud dissipating into the night air. Underneath that strange smoke Teldin spotted the big blue giant sprawled on the ground only a few feet away. The creature’s hand, the one that held the strange device, was black with soot. Cuts and burns marked up his arm and neck and a swelling bruise was already beginning to show on the hard-looking forehead. “Trooper Gomja, eh?” the farmer scornfully said, remembering the creature’s name. When there was no response, Teldin threw the cloak over his shoulder and hobbled to where the trooper lay. Nearby was the strange, threatening stick, its metal tube now bent and twisted into apparent uselessness.

Gingerly kicking the exotic device away, Teldin checked with his hoe to see if the beast was conscious. Satisfied it was not, he carefully searched the remains of his once-beautiful, whitewashed cabin to find a good, long piece of very, very stout rope.

The search was brief and, a short time later, Teldin set the final knot in place with a hard yank. Exhausted, the farmer looked down at his handiwork. The big giff, if that was what he was called, was trussed tighter than a pig on market day, his wrists and ankles firmly bound. Teldin really wanted to hog-tie the creature solidly, but there had been only so much rope in the ruins of his house. The whole thing had taken longer than he expected, but at least the murderous creature was safely restrained.

While Teldin was working, the wreck’s flames crept uncomfortably close. Since his opponent still lived, the farmer took it upon himself to drag the beast’s inert bulk away from the burning wreck. Whatever it-he-was, he was not light, Teldin quickly discovered. The gray-blue beast had to weigh at least as much as a good-sized sow, maybe four hundred pounds or more. It was only by half- rolling, half-dragging the creature that Teldin reached the shelter of the broken trees near the stream.

With a spent sigh, Teldin plopped onto the chest of his huge captive and looked back to the wreck, trying to decide what to do. The fires on the ship still blazed brightly and were slowly spreading, since there was plenty aboard the shattered ruin to feed the fiery tongues. Curiosity urged him forward to investigate the bizarre skyship. “No,” Teldin said to himself, shaking off the desire. “It’s too dangerous." Still, Teldin’s sense of decency demanded he try to get the body of the dead woman away from the fire. At least he could do that much.

After a quick check on his prisoner, Teldin approached the burning ship only to have a wave of heat drive him back. He unconsciously slipped the cloak off his arm and fastened the clasp about his neck. As the silver jaws clicked shut, the farmer suddenly realized just what he had donned. For a moment he expected strange and mysterious magic to burst forth. When nothing happened, Teldin plunged forward to where the dead alien lay. After dragging her body to safety, he returned to the ruin.

The wreck now burned brightly, lighting the torn-up field and even the trees beyond. The flames were enough to provide a clear view of the destruction. During the long siege of Kalaman, Teldin had seen quite a few ocean-going vessels, the army’s only lifeline to the outside. Although it was now broken into halves, the shattered hulk that lay across his house looked similar. The bow section was on its side amid the rubble of the cabin’s chimney and roof. The stern, supported under its keel by a tangle of logs and trees, canted upward toward the front, giving the impression that the stern had carved the ragged gouge through Teldin’s melons. It was in this half that the fiercest fires raged.