Once they were finally past the portcullises, over the bridge, through the walls, and had entered the narrow canyon beyond, Teldin looked to Gomja with relief. The giff had not done anything rash, which was a small blessing.
His troops reunited and his authority restored, Vandoorm easily swung onto his horse, a sturdy chestnut mare. At his bawled command, the troops mounted and began the long descent toward Palanthas.
After leaving the keep, the road plunged into a narrow gorge that cut between two knife-edged mountain ridges. The track shared the canyon floor with a swift-flowing stream fed by the rains and snows that.tumbled down the gully-creased inclines. Few trees could find a foothold on the steep and rock-bound slopes, so the waters flowed red-brown from the minerals carried off by erosion. The road followed the stream where it could, winding in and out of the shadows. The canyon floor was seldom in full daylight.
Where before they had ridden at a hard pace, Vandoorm now ordered a complete change, slowing the column to a gentle walk. Teldin, tired and saddle-sore from days of jolting trots, had no complaints, while Gomja found it easier to keep pace with the riders. The big giff marched alongside the mounted human.
As he gently swayed in the saddle, Teldin spoke with the giff, raising his voice to be heard above the clacking hooves of the column. “Well, Gomja, this cut leads straight to Palanthas. In a few days, we’ll be there.”
“You know this road, sir?” Somehow the giff had managed to find some food and was eating again.
“During the war-the first one-I served at Palanthas. I was in the first relief column to reach the High Clerist’s Tower after Lord MarKenin’s victory over the dragonarmies.
Gomja looked up, his small eyes wide with interest. War stories were never boring and it sounded as if Teldin was about to begin one. “That must have been a magnificent thing, sir!” he said eagerly.
Teldin closed his eyes and repressed a shudder as he remembered the trek. “No, it wasn’t,” he finally responded. In his mind, Teldin could see the canyon as it had been back then. “It was wintertime and the pass was closed by snow. Our column marched just as the thaw began, and we had to break through the melting crust to reach the tower. The water was running high and the road was washed out more than once. Three men were swept away by that-” Teldin opened his eyes and pointed to the stream alongside them- and their bodies weren’t found until the spring. Half the men in my company were frostbitten by the time we reached the tower. And that’s where things got even worse.
“The Knights of Solamnia had just ‘won’ the battle of Westgate Pass a few days before. But they were knights, not soldiers." There was no mistaking the scorn in Teldin’s voice as he remembered the past. Gomja listened intently, forgetting even to chew. “The knights were too few-and too important-to take the field and claim it. All that time, while we were bashing through the drifts to reach the tower, the Knights of Solamnia stayed inside the keep and honored their fallen commanders. They left the rest of the dead for us to bury. Three days-they let them lie out there for three days.”
Teldin closed his eyes, trying to control his rising temper. The memories were painful, even now. When he opened them again, he noticed that Vandoorm had fallen in beside them. How long the captain had been listening, Teldin did not know. “It took us two days of solid work to bury them all. Some men stood guard while the rest of us dug in the freezing wind. We couldn’t burn the bodies-there wasn’t enough wood and pitch to do the job-so we had to use picks to dig out the frozen ground for graves. We stacked twenty or thirty bodies in a single pit. When we finished that, there were still the dragons in the keep.”
‘Dragons, sir?” Gomja asked, suddenly perking up. “And dragonlances?” In his mind, the giff was trophy collecting.
“Three dragons,” Teldin answered, continuing his story while ignoring Gomja’s curiosity. “The knights had lured them in somehow, killed the lot, and then left them there. When we got to the tower, the bodies were still in the courtyards. We couldn’t bury the dragons-they were way too big, even too big to drag out through the gates-so we had to butcher them on the spot. Then we carried the slabs of frozen meat out onto the plain and burned them with the little firewood we had.” Teldin stopped his tale, waiting for the images to fade from his mind.
“That’s what war was like,” Teldin finished, looking down at the giff.
On the other side of Teldin, Vandoorm nodded in agreement. “That and waiting,” he added. “Go places and wait. Tel, you learn well.”
Gomja said nothing, at first, just looked back at Teldin. Then, with a grotesquely cheerful smile and a touch of braggadocio, he said, “It is a good thing giff are known as good soldiers. My people are always put in the forefront of the battle.”
“That’s a great place to die,” Vandoorm observed. He spat on the ground, then wiped his beard on his sleeve.
Gomja stood stiffly upright. “It is the only place to gain honor,” he insisted.
“There’s not much honor in being dead, Gomja,” Teldin said. With a flick of the reins, he brushed a fly away from his mount’s golden mane.
“A bold death does great honor to the platoon.” Gomja double-timed his step to keep pace with Teldin’s horse. “When Commander Finlei lost half his command at Burgg’s Rock, his platoon became one of the most feared- and highest paid-in five spheres. Everyone wanted to join his command. They always had work.”
Vandoorm laughed a snorting chuckle. “Creature, you speak like a true mercenary!” He picked at something in his beard, then spurred his horse forward, trotting to the head of the column, where Brun One-Eye rode.
His old friend gone, Teldjn dropped off his saddle to walk beside Gomja. “So those in this platoon died because someone paid them to?” Teldin couldn’t imagine anyone volunteering for such a deed.
“To defend the Rock was an honor, sir. Isn’t that why everyone fights?” Gomja looked down at Teldin, now alongside him. “After all, why did you join the army, sir?”
Teldin tried to remember his motives while he steered around a puddle. “When the war broke out, I was young,” he answered slowly. “I heard stories about the cruelties of the dragonarmies. I was going to go out and right those wrongs, protect the world from their injustice.” The farmer looked to see if Gomja was paying attention to his meanings, not just listening to the words. The giffs ears were turned slightly his way, so Teldin continued. “The war showed me that things weren’t quite that way, weren’t that simple. Like Vandoorm said, I was ready to save Estwilde and wipe the draconians from the face of Ansalon all by myself. By the end of it, I was happy that we made a truce-even if there were still lands in draconian hands. I just wanted to go home.” Teldin abruptly stopped and looked to the top of the canyon walls. “Defeating injustice just wasn’t all that simple, Gornja.”
The giff, a little ahead, turned and looked back. “If you say so, sir,” he murmured. His ears lay flat as he spoke. Gomja waited for Teldin to join him, and the two walked on in silence.
Late that afternoon, Vandoorm called a halt for the day. A side canyon, somewhat broader at the bottom than their own valley, looked like a good site for their camp. The company turned off the main road and picked its way around the rubble field of an old landslide. Leading men and horses, the captain let his scouts find a good section of level, sheltered ground. There the troop pitched their bed- rolls under the boughs of the mountain pines.