Beyond the Moons by David Cook

The lad at his side finally succeed in drawing back the crossbow’s string and fitting a bolt. He pointed the weapon unsteadily in Teldin’s direction, which only made Teldin fearful he’d be shot accidentally. “Which is it, I or we?”
    Teldin thought fast, trying to think of a good explanation for Gomja. “Well... uh … I have a companion, but … uh … but he suffered cruel misfortune during the war.”
    “I don’t care if he’s crippled or scarred. Have him out, or my boy shoots!” The lad looked up to his father, waiting for a signal.
    “It’s not quite like that. He’s —” Teldin tried to explain. The old man cut him off with a quiver of the whip. “Very well. Trooper Gomja,” Teldin called back over his shoulder, “come on out – slowly.”
    The branches of the thicket cracked as Gomja stepped into view. On the wagon, father and son gave a simultaneous gasp. The old man’s eyes widened while his boy almost dropped the crossbow again as he stood there stupidly, mouth agape.
    “This is Trooper Gomja,” Teldin hastily said, before the wagon driver did something foolish. “He won’t hurt you. Please, let us ride with you.” The wagoneer nodded his head in stunned silence while the boy slowly lowered the crossbow. Human and giff quickly climbed aboard before the man had a chance to come to his senses.
    For several hours they rode along in silence. The father and son were too terrified to speak to their passengers. The giff dozed off, basking in the sunshine. Teldin grew bored and clambered up to the front. “I apologize for our meeting,” he offered. “But why were you so frightened? You don’t seem to be carrying anything that valuable.”
    “It’s true, all I have are oranges and almonds and such, but this road’s been dangerous ever since the war,” the farmer allowed. “Name’s Jacos, by the way.”
    Teldin was puzzled. He had never heard of any trouble, but then, he had not been to Kalaman since he had left the army. ‘The war’s been over for years. I know, I was in it.”
    “Maybe over for you, but there’s a lot of men who never learned how to put down the sword.” Jacos flicked the rump of his horses to keep them from straying after a nibble of grass. “A lot of soldiers didn’t want to go back home – or there wasn’t a home to go back to. Now they’ve found an easy life, robbing folks on the road.”
    “What about the officials? What about the Knights of Solamnia? Couldn’t they to deal with that?”
    “They did, for a while. I suppose it just wasn’t glamorous enough for them knights. Since they left, the local militia can’t keep up. Somebody gets robbed and the militia chases the bandits around for a while till things quiet down. Then everybody goes home.” There was an ominous tone in the old mans voice.
    “I don’t mean to be rude,” said Jacos, changing the subject, “but what happened to your friend back there? You said it was something in the war.”
    “What?” Teldin stalled. He’d been working up a story for just this question and now he had to remember all the details. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
    “Oh, him. He doesn’t like to talk much about it. They – you know, the Highlords – did something to him. Tried to make him over, like they did with draconians.” Teldin’s blue eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “Only they got that” — He nodded back toward Gomja — “instead. They called him a giff. It was a terrible thing. He won’t talk about it at all. In fact, I don’t think he even remembers it.”
    Jacos and his son nodded, their eyes wide with wonder.
    “The best thing to do,” Teldin continued, relishing their gullible reaction, “is just never mention it. I wouldn’t want him remembering anything about it. Sometimes he gets nightmares and he’ll just tear a place up in his sleep.” The farmer gulped nervously as he glanced back at the dozing giff.
    “So why you stick with him,