The soldier looked toward Othork, dying in the road. “Yes, sir,” insisted the soldier through gritted teeth.

“Good. Fix him up,” Vandoorm ordered. “We leave soon. Vandoorm turned to Teldin. “So, you have cloak, Tel, and a most interesting one, I am sure. You know, someone wants this cloak very much. They offer a fine price for a farmer with a strange cloak-just the cloak, that is. I even heard news of it in Kalaman.” Vandoorm took the edge of the cloak and rubbed it between his fingers. “I wonder why this is so valuable?” The mercenary grabbed the chains that fastened the garment in place.

Teldin felt a tingle up his back, then there was a sharp crack and a burned smell. “Ahhh!” screamed Vandoorm as he snatched his hand back from the chains. The mercenary shook his arm, trying to drive the pain from his nerves. “It sparks at me!”

Suspecting treachery from the farmer, there was a waver of swords as the men closed their ranks behind their captain. The faces were grim and hostile. The spear point dug once more into Teldin’s back, this time drawing blood.

“What happened to friendship, Vandoorrn?” Teldin hotly demanded. “I was like your son, you said. What about the war?” Vandoorm was his friend-not this, the man who stood before him. Teldin clenched his fists in rage. There was little else lie could do, ringed by men with swords.

“Steel. Lots of steel pieces, Tel,” the captain answered curtly, still massaging his numb arm. “But, because you are a friend-take off the cloak and I will let you live.”

Teldin stiffened. “1 can’t,” he futilely tried to explain. ‘‘It’s-’’

“Too bad. That’s just too bad,” Vandoorm interrupted the farmer. “I am sad you say this. I think I cannot take the cloak off you-alive.” He turned and walked back toward his injured men, only to stop halfway and look back. “Kill him, then I’ll take cloak,” he ordered the rider at Teldin’s back.

Teldin sucked in his breath, braced for the thrust.

There was a loud crack, followed instantly by a scream. The lance jabbed forward in the final thrust, only to drop suddenly from Teldin’s back and clatter to the ground. The cloak must have done something, like the shock before, was Teldin’s amazed thought. At the same time, the farmer could see Vandoorm and the others turning in surprise when, all at once, the man’s heavy body crashed across Teldin’s shoulder, smearing blood and knocking the farmer to the ground. The horse, panicking, reared with a snort and galloped away.

“Stand back or I’ll fire again,” boomed Gomja’s bass voice. Vandoorm and the others froze, uncertain of just what had happened. The giff stood at the edge of the road. In each hand he held a pistol, carefully leveled at the mercenaries. Smoke trickled from the barrel of one. “Come over here, sir,” Gomja said.

On the ground, Teldin reached to roll the body off his legs. The rider flopped over, a gaping wound in the back of his head. Scrambling up, Teldin carefully edged his way toward Gomja.

Vandoorm made a slight move forward. “No, sir. I would not do that,” Gomja ordered. The captain stopped, looking at the awful wound in the man on the ground. When Teldin got alongside, the giff, without taking his eyes off the mercenaries, softly asked, “What do I do now, sir? Should I shoot their leader?

Teldin was tempted for a moment, feeling pure hatred for his treacherous ex-friend, then had what seemed a better idea. “Vandoorm,” he called out, “my friend here is a wizard of the Red Robes. You’ve seen what he’s done already with his magic-and he’s only using his wands. Move away from your horses.

Vandoorm remained unmoving in the lantern light, uncertain of what to do. “Gomja, can you give them another demonstration?” Teldin whispered.

“I have one shot left, sir. Do you want mc to kill another?” Gomja offered. Vandoorm and the others glanced at each other, trying to deduce what was happening.

“No, don’t kill anyone,” Teldin answered slowly. “Just a demonstration.”

“Yes, sir. A demonstration.” Taking careful aim, the giff gently squeezed the trigger of his second pistol. There was another loud bang and a burned metallic smell as a spout of flame and smoke leaped from Gomja’s pistol. Teldin jumped, surprised, even though he almost expected the result. For a moment a thick cloud of smoke obscured things. There was a scream of pain from one of Vandoorm’s men, followed by a string of moans.

"Damn you to Takhisis’s Abyss, farmer!” shouted Vandoorm. “No more-we’re moving!” As the smoke from the powder cleared, Teldin could see Vandoorm and his men moving to the side of the road. One of the previously unwounded men was now being dragged by the captain and another. The fallen trooper’s face was in agony as he clutched at a bloody knee.

“What did you do?” Teldin demanded of Gomja.

“A demonstration, sir, as you requested. I shot him in the knee,” the giff answered innocently.

“Fine,” Teldin spat, still burning with rage. “Keep them covered. I’m going to get us some horses.”

“Sir,” Gomja said out the corner of his big mouth, “I am out of shots.”

Teldin kept his face impassive at this distressing news. Shots, he assumed, were the powers of the wand. “Look, just don’t tell them-bluff!”

“Yes, sir.” Gomja took a step closer to the mercenaries, glowering as fiercely as possible. An animalistic rumble came from deep in his chest. While he was occupied, Teldin caught the two strongest-looking horses and scattered the others with shouts and yells. For himself he chose Vandoorm’s stallion, exercising his desire for vengeance. Up in the saddle, he led the other back to Gomja.

“Pass me your pistols and mount up,’ Teldin ordered. Gomja handed over the pistols, one at a time. Teldin took care to keep them pointed directly at Vandoorm. “The wizard has shown me how to use his magic,” Teldin loudly announced to the glaring men.

“I’ve never ridden a beast like this before, sir,” Gomja pointed out as he looked at the horse.

Teldin steeled himself with a deep breath. “That’s all right, Gomja. It’s never had you ride it before either. Now, let’s go!” The farmer hissed the order through clenched teeth.

“Yes, sir.” After several awkward attempts, Gomja finally got himself situated in the saddle. Teldin gave the giffs horse a slap on the rump, sending it forward into the darkness.

“Don’t try to follow us, Vandoorm, or I’ll forget you once were my friend,” Teldin vehemently swore. Digging his heels into the stallion’s sides, Teldin galloped into the darkness after Gomja.

“I’ll find you, damn you, farmer!” cursed Vandoorm as Teldin disappeared into the darkness. “And I’ll make you pay in pain!”

Gomja clung to the saddle, his legs clamped firmly to the mounts sides, as his horse galloped through the darkness. Aside from being a novice rider, the giff simply wasn t suited to the task. His feet, with their great, round pads, could never fit into the stirrups, nor was his bulk comfortable in the narrow saddle, designed for a human posterior. To make matters worse, the steed labored under Gomja’s weight, barely able to keep up a bone-jarring trot.

Gomja endured this for what seemed like hours. Finally, he shouted to Teldin, who rode ahead, “Sir, requesting orders to dismount and walk!” The giffs words were punctuated by his mare’s jarring steps, each jolt pushing Gomja’s normally deep voice higher.

“Well, I think we’re far enough from Vandoorm to slow down the pace,” Teldin claimed for the sake of his companion. In truth, Teldin was not going to feel comfortable until he was safely within the walls of Palanthas. Vandoorm would catch his horses sooner or later and was bound to come after the cloak.

"If you think so, sir,” Gomja moaned while getting off his horse. Mindful of possible pursuit, though, Teldin rode on at a good pace, forcing Gomja to jog alongside. Still, the giff seemed happier than he ever had while riding.