The Rose and the Skull

10

"There, there, my boy," Gunthar said with a sigh, trying to comfort the gully dwarf. "There, there."

Uhoh wept as he lifted the heavy, deadweight of Garr's head and placed it in his lap. The hound's black tongue, clenched between his fangs, oozed a little blood, but his barrel chest no longer swelled with breath, and his eyes, though still deep and brown and not yet glazed with death, were dull, unseeing. Uhoh wet Garr's muzzle with his tears as he kissed the dog again and again.

"No, Garr. Very bad. Come home, Garr," he cried as he rocked back and forth.

"Don't cry, my boy," Gunthar said. "He died as he would have wished-in… " his voice cracked, and he was forced to look away. "In battle," he finished, staring up at the sky and blinking in the sunlight.

"Garr no die," Uhoh sobbed. "Garr no die now."

"He died like a true Knight, in single combat with his sworn enemy," Gunthar said to the sky.

Uhoh stroked the dog's fur over and over, his tears rolling in tracks through the grime on his face. "Poor Garr," he moaned. "Maybe Uhoh take you home, patch ouch, and Garr not dead no more."

He had done it before. He'd taken care of Gunthar's hounds for many months now, and more than once he'd tended their wounds and helped them to heal. With his small fingers, Uhoh tenderly searched the hound's body for an injury, but he found no indication of blood or torn flesh or broken bones of any kind. The only blood came from the hound's bitten-through tongue.

"Why Garr die?" he asked.

"That is the way of things, my boy," Gunthar explained. "We grow old, we get hurt, or we get sick. It is how nature moves."

Uhoh rolled the dog over and examined the other side. Again, he found almost nothing. Other than a small cut on the dog's flank, he bore no readily apparent injuries. "Why Garr die?" he asked again.

"Ours is not to reason why, my boy," Gunthar said. "We just have to accept it."

"But him not hurt," Uhoh said.

"What?"

"Him not hurt."

"Let me see. Are you sure?" Gunthar asked as he kneeled beside the hound. Together, they examined Garr from nose to tail. Gunthar paid particular attention to the tiny wound on the hound's flank, finding it well-crusted with dried blood. "This must have happened earlier in the hunt. It looks like a tusk wound, but I suppose it could have happened anywhere. Certainly not in this fight. Poor Garr breathed his last as I found him."

He stood and examined the ground around the boulder. "Yes, there was a desperate battle here. Look how the ground is torn up by the beast's hooves, where he charged and turned and charged again. I wonder that I never heard it. The ridge must have hidden the sound. And what's this?" He stooped and picked something from the litter of leaves. "It looks like a scale. What do you make of this, my boy?" he asked as he handed the object to Uhoh.

The gully dwarf looked at the queer find as it lay glistening on the palm of his hand. The thing did indeed appear to be a scale, but not like the scale of any fish Uhoh had ever eaten. It looked more like a lizard's scale, but he'd never seen a bronze-colored lizard before. Or had he?

"Oh, very bad mischief. Very bad!" Uhoh shouted.

"What's wrong?" Gunthar demanded.

"Very bad veryveryveryverybad!" Uhoh jumped to his feet.

Gunthar turned and faced the dark eaves of the forest. "Be quiet," he whispered. "I hear it now." He cupped his hand over the gully dwarf's mouth. Uhoh fell silent. They listened together.

There was a grunt.

"Go home now Papa," Uhoh mumbled into Gunthar's palm.

He began to run in place. Gunthar fumbled for his spear and dragged it to his side. Without ever allowing his eyes to leave the forest, he managed to lift it before him, the butt of the spear lodged under his foot. He stared into the wood, seeing only the lighter gray of the trunks standing in serried ranks, until spots began to burst before his eyes. Boar-shaped spots, he thought them. He blinked.

A gut-wrenching squeal shook the trees. The ground rocked, and loose soil spilled down the slope. Like a piece of a mountain brought magically to life, Mannjaeger appeared from the shadow of the wood into the full light of day, red eyes burning with hatred. For some reason, Gunthar fixated on the pink tongue lolling between twin scimitars of yellow ivory. He almost seemed hypnotized by it. It curled and rolled, the black spots on its underside sliding like the pattern on the back of a snake. A droplet of blood rolled down the length of the tongue and splattered on a leaf, joining the small puddle forming below his mangled throat. Garr had struck a mighty blow after all. Raw flesh gaped from a horrific bite, one that would have felled a lesser beast.

Only at the last moment, when he felt the living thing struggling in his hands, did Gunthar come back to his senses. He flung the writhing gully dwarf aside, then tried to bring his spear to bear, but it was too late. Mannjaeger plowed into him. Gunthar felt the world heave beneath him as a force like that of a battering ram exploded against his breastplate.

His ancient Solamnic armor, crafted a century ago by the best Solamnic smiths, served him well. The boar's tusks screeched against his steel greaves and clattered uselessly on his breastplate. Nevertheless he felt the hammer force of each blow and the crushing power of each bite. In a matter of moments, he was bleeding from a dozen wounds, more from the tumbling he received than the boar's tusks. He never was quite able to regain his feet. Every time he seemed about to get his balance, Mannjaeger struck him again. He felt like the survivor of a shipwreck who finds his greatest danger is of being drowned in the shore surf. He soon began to grow weary, as each new wave struck him down and dragged him back out to sea.

Then the boar was gone. He no longer felt its weight, no longer smelled its rancid breath. He lay still in the leaves, suddenly at peace. He didn't dare open his eyes, for he felt the ground beneath him shake as the monster prowled around his body, sniffing, grunting.

"Gulpfunger spawn!" There was a loud meaty thwack, and a squeal like the rusty gates of the Abyss being pushed open by hell's own legions. Gunthar dreaded to open his eyes. He only wanted to lie there and let himself fall asleep. "Glickenspogger!"

Slowly, Gunthar sat up and clenched his teeth, waiting for the inevitable blow of a renewed attack. He clenched shut his eyes and hoped it was all a bad dream, and that he'd be waking in his own warm bed beside his lovely wife Belle, and that everything, everything he'd ever seen and done and suffered had all been one long spicy gnomecuisine-induced nightmare. No Council of Whitestone. No War of the Lance. No Sturm Brightblade to die at the High Clerist's Tower. No attack of Palanthas by the Dark Lady's army to claim his eldest son's life. No Chaos War to take his last son. No heartbreak to slowly rob his Belle first of her wits and then of her life. Paladine, I pray, give me a life quietly average. I never wished to lead the Knights. I'd trade it all for a little castle on the coast and my family at my side again. My boys, my poor poor boys. I miss them so.

"Get away from Papa, you… you… you Chugsnorter!" Thwack. Squeal!

Gunthar sighed and opened his eyes.

Uhoh crouched beside a boulder, a small round stone poised behind his ear, ready for throwing. For some reason, Mannjaeger hesitated. Perhaps he had never before smelled a gully dwarf and was trying to figure out if they were too noxious to eat. He restlessly plowed the earth with his hooves and snorted the air. Thick strings of bloody drool poured from his champing jowls.

Gunthar was surprised to find his spear undamaged and near at hand. In fact, he thought it lucky he hadn't been speared by it himself. He used it to help himself to his feet, while the boar was distracted with the gully dwarf. Not until then did he notice he had not passed through the meat grinder unscathed. One particularly vicious slash had rent the chain mail protecting his thigh and sliced a finger-long wound as cleanly as if it had been done with a razor. But for some reason, the wound burned like dragon fire, robbing that leg of all strength. He leaned heavily on the spear just to keep from falling, and despite his best efforts, a groan escaped his lips.

Mannjaeger spun at the noise. Finding the more immediate threat of the man, he charged. With black spots swimming before his eyes, Gunthar balanced himself on one foot and lowered his spear to receive the charge. Uhoh shouted something unpronounceable and hurled his stone. It struck the boar in the eye, causing him to swerve slightly and impale himself on Gunthar's poorly aimed thrust.

Mannjaeger screamed as he lunged away, blowing blood from his mouth and tearing the spear from Gunthar's grasp. Gunthar collapsed, but the boar charged into the forest, dragging the well-lodged weapon behind him. He continued to thrash and bellow, hidden by the shadow of the wood, until finally all sound died away.

Gunthar groaned and rolled onto his side. With the danger gone, the pain in his leg grew to blinding intensity. He clawed at his wound, trying to see the cause of the burning. Strangely, the wound had already crusted over with dried black blood. Gunthar fell back in the bloodspattered leaves beside Garr's body. For a moment, he grew quiet as he looked into the dog's empty eyes. Then he began to thrash and moan in pain.

Uhoh was by his side. "What wrong, Papa? What wrong?" he asked.

"The dagger! Betrayed!" Gunthar cried. "Fool! Planned… they led us… apart. Only Garr able to follow the true trail, and he knew I'd follow Garr. I should have known. But how? I chose him. I trusted him." The pain engulfed his hips and abdomen. He felt as if he was slowly being lowered into a pot of boiling oil.

"Who, Papa? What?" Uhoh whimpered confusedly as he tried to calm his master's throes.

"I chose him. I trusted him," was all Gunthar seemed able to say. Spittle flew from his lips and bloody foam poured down his chin as his words became lost in horrible convulsions. He seemed to twist upon himself like a wounded snake. His lips drew back in a fearful grimace, and the woods echoed with his screams. In terror, Uhoh scrambled out of the way and hid behind the boulder. He pressed his face against the cool stone and bit his lip.

Finally, his master grew quiet. Uhoh peered around the boulder and saw Gunthar lying flat on his back, as still as stone. Even the palsy was gone from his hands. Uhoh crept to his side, fearful of what he might find, but as he drew near, Gunthar's bloodshot eyes swiveled in his head. He blinked, then a weak smile stirred his Solamnic mustaches.

"Ah, very good, my boy. I was afraid I was going to die alone," he said faintly. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to move my hands. Come closer and hold mine, won't you, my boy?"

Reluctantly, Uhoh touched his master's hand. He found it cold and hard, like marble. Though his body was rigid, the muscles of the old man's face continued to twist and writhe. "What wrong, Papa?" Uhoh whispered.

"You must do something for me, Uhoh," Gunthar said.

"What, Papa?"

He groaned as a fresh spasm wracked his face. "He thought I was a fool. I was. Now I know. Now I understand. This was the plan from the very beginning. How else…" Gunthar's voice trailed off, and his eyes grew dim.

"What me do, Papa?" Uhoh asked again.

"What's that, my boy?" Gunthar started. "Where was I?"

"You with Uhoh," the gully dwarf cried.

"Uhoh, you must do something for me," the old man whispered weakly. "Come closer."

Uhoh leaned over his master, his mud-caked ear nearly touching the old man's lips. The old man whispered something almost inaudible, then sighed heavily. Then, convulsing, Gunthar shoved Uhoh away. "The Knights!" he screamed, long, quavering, dying away. This final effort seemed to drain the last spark of life from his body.

"Knights bad?" Uhoh cried in confusion.

"They've killed me," Gunthar whispered, his eyes closing.

"Knights very bad!" Uhoh growled.

The old man roused at these words. He strained, trying to grasp the gully's dwarf's hand. "No, not all the Knights. You must run home and warn the others. Do you understand?"

"No," Uhoh cried in frustration.

"Good, I knew I could count on you," Gunthar said, smiling weakly as he relaxed.

"Me run away home?" Uhoh asked.

"Yes. Go now," Gunthar said, then his face grew still. His eyes lost their focus and seemed to stare beyond the clouds. A last cloud of steamy breath floated from his lips and dissipated in the cool autumn air.

Uhoh shook his master's body. "Papa, what me do now?" he asked. "What me do now? Papa? Papa!"

He stood and placed his hands on his hips, scolding the still form of his master. "Papa stay. Papa not leave Uhoh."

Gunthar's face seemed to relax. The lines of age and worry fell away, replaced by almost a glow of peace. Uhoh fell to his knees beside Gunthar and stroked the old man's hair with his small, grubby hand. "Uhoh no go. Uhoh stay with Papa," he whispered as tears began to stream down his cheeks, cutting new tracks through the grime. He laid his face against his master's chest and closed his eyes.

"Uhoh never leave Papa," he cried as sobs wracked his little body. He wept until exhaustion claimed him and the peace of sleep stole over his eyes.