The Second Generation

They had walked all day, moving easily through the thick jungle, following a trail that had obviously been there for years. The major problem was the heat, which was intense. Sturm and Tanin soon took off their armor and packed it away and finally convinced Palin to strip off his white robes, though he protested long against wandering the wilderness clad only in his undergarments.

“Look,” said Tanin, finally, after Palin was on the verge of collapse, his robes dripping with sweat, “there aren’t any women to see you, that much we know. Hang your spell bags around your waist. We can always get dressed again before we reach the next village.” Palin reluctantly agreed and, other than taking some ribbing from Sturm about his skinny legs, was thankful he did so. The jungle grew steamier as the sun rose higher. Intermittent rain showers cooled the brothers and the dwarf occasionally, but in the end served only to increase the humidity.

Dougan, however, steadfastly refused to shed so much as his broad-brimmed hat, maintaining that the heat was nothing to a dwarf and ridiculing the humans for their weakness. This he did with perspiration streaming down his face until it dripped off the ends of his moustache. He marched along with a defiant air, as if daring one of them to say something, and often grumbled that they were slowing him down. Yet Palin saw Dougan more than once, when he thought no one was looking, slump down on a rock, fan himself with his hat, and mop his face with his beard.

By the time they arrived at the next village, which was about a day’s walk through the jungle, all of them—even the dwarf—were so limp and tired that they barely had the strength to put their clothes and their armor back on in order to make an impressive show. Word of their coming must have traveled in some mysterious way (Palin thought he knew, then, the reason for the strange drumbeats they’d been hearing), for they were met by the men of the village and the children. The men regarded them coldly (though more than a few eyes flashed at the sight of the elven armor), gave them food and drink, and indicated a hut where they could spend the night. Tanin made a stirring speech about storming Gargath Castle and asked for volunteers.

The only responses were dark looks, shuffling feet, and a muttered comment, “I can’t. I’ve got a chicken stewing ”

This being no more than they had expected, the brothers stripped off their armor and their clothes and went to bed. Their night’s rest was unbroken, save for slapping at some sort of winged, carnivorous insect that apparently had a craving for human flesh, and one other incident.

Around midnight, Tanin was wakened by the dwarf, shaking his shoulder and loudly calling his name.

“Whasit?” mumbled Tanin sleepily, fumbling for his sword.

“Nay, lad, put your weapon away,” said Dougan, hurriedly. “I just need to know something, lad. You and me and your brothers, we’re comrades, aren’t we?”

Tanin recalled, as well as he could recall anything, that the dwarf had seemed particularly anxious about this and had repeated the question several times.

“Yeah, comrades,” Tanin muttered, rolling over.

“What’s mine is yours, yours is mine?” persisted the dwarf, leaning over to look the young man in the face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tanin waved a hand, brushing away a feeding insect and the dwarf’s beard at the same time.

“Thank you, lad! Thank you,” said Dougan gratefully. “You won’t regret it.”

Tanin said later that the dwarf’s last words, “You won’t regret it,” lingered ominously in his dreams, but he was too tired to wake up and ponder the situation.

As it was, he had plenty of time for pondering the next morning when he woke to find a spear point at his throat and several tall warriors standing over him. A quick glance showed him his brothers in similar circumstances.

“Sturm!” Tanin called, not daring to move and keeping his hands in plain sight. “Palin, wake up!”

His brothers woke quickly at the sound of alarm in his voice, and stared at their captors in sleepy surprise.

“Tanin,” said Palin, keeping his voice even, “what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out!” Tanin angrily thrust the spear point aside. “What is this nonsense?” he asked, starting to stand up. The spear point was at his throat again, joined, this time, by two more—one at his chest, the other jabbing him in the back.

“Tell them that no matter how grateful the women are, it won’t matter to us!” said Sturm, swallowing and trying in vain to inch backward. The spear followed him. “We’re going to be knights! We’ve taken vows of celibacy....”

“It’s... uh ... not the women, lad,” muttered a shamefaced Dougan, entering the hut and thrusting his head in between the warriors. “It’s... uh... a matter of honor... so to speak. The truth of it is, lads,” the dwarf continued with a heart-rending sigh, “I got into a wee bit of a game last night.”

“So?” grunted Tanin. “What has that got to do with us?”