“What is it, then? Dragons? I can’t believe that. Since when have dragons attacked a settlement?”
“No, even the dragons flee this menace.”
‘Then, what?”
Gregor looked around solemnly. “Tytans.”
Paithan and the other elves gaped, then burst out laughing.
“Gregor, you old liar! You had me going there for a while!” Paithan wiped tears from his eyes. “I’ll buy the next round. Refugees and wrecked ships!”
The humans sat silent, their faces growing dark and shadowed. Paithan saw them exchange grim glances and checked his mirth.
“Come now, Gregor, a joke’s a joke. You caught me. I’ll admit I was already counting up the coins.” He waved his hand toward his compatriots. “We all were. So enough already.”
“It is no joke, I am afraid, my friends,” said Gregor. “I have talked to these people. I have seen the terror on their faces and heard it in their voices. Gigantic creatures with the bodies and faces of our kind, but who stand taller than the trees came to their land from far norinth. Their voices alone can split rock. They destroy all in their path. They snatch up people in their hands and fling them to their deaths or crush them with their fists. There is no weapon that can stop them. Arrows are to them like gnats to us. Swords will not penetrate their thick hide, nor would blades do any damage, if they did.”
The weight of Gregor’s words oppressed everyone. All listened in hushed and attentive silence, though there was still some unbelieving shaking of heads. Other caravanners, noting the solemn gathering, came up to see what was going on and added their own dire rumors to those already spreading.
“The Kasnar Empire was great,” said Gregor. “Now it is gone. Completely destroyed. All that is left of a once mighty nation are a handful of people who escaped in their boats across the Whispering Sea.”
The farmer, noting his sales dropping off, tapped a fresh barrel. Everyone rose to refill their mugs, and began talking at once.
“Tytans? The followers of San? That’s only myth.”
“Don’t speak sacrilege, Paithan. If you believe in the Mother [16] you must believe in San and his followers, who rule the Dark.”
“Yeah, Umbar, we all know how religious you are! If you walked into one of the Mother’s temples it’d probably fall down on top of you! Look, Gregor. You’re a sensible man. You don’t believe in goblins and ghoulies.”
“No, but I believe in what I see and hear. And I’ve seen, in the eyes of those people, terrible things.”
Paithan gazed steadily at the man. He’d known Gregor a number of years and had always found the big human reliable, dependable, and fearless. “All right. I’ll buy the notion that these people fled something. But why are we all in a dither? Whatever it is couldn’t possibly cross the Whispering Sea.”
“The tytans-”
“Whatever-”
“-could come down through the dwarven kingdoms of Grish and Klag and Thum,” continued Gregor gloomily, “fn fact, we have heard rumors that the dwarves are preparing for war.”
“Yeah. War against you, not giant demons. That’s why your lords slapped on that arms embargo.”
Gregor shrugged his shoulders, nearly bursting the seams on his tight-fitting shirt, and then grinned, his red-bearded face seeming to split wide apart. “Whatever happens, Paithan, you elves won’t have to worry. We humans will stop them. Our legends say that the Horned God constantly tests us, by sending warriors worthy of us to fight. Perhaps, in this battle, the Five Lost Lords will return to help us.”
He started to drink, looked disappointed, and upended his mug. It was empty. “More vingin!”
The elven fanner turned the spigot, nothing came out. He knocked on the barrels. All gave forth a dismal, hollow sound. Sighing, the caravanners stood and stretched.
“Paithan, my friend,” said Gregor. “There’s the tavern near the ferry landing. It’s packed, just now, but I think I could get us a table.” The big human flexed his muscles and laughed.
“Sure,” agreed Paithan readily. His overseer was a good man, the slaves were exhausted. He didn’t expect any trouble. “You find us a place to sit, and I’ll buy the first two rounds.”