The Rose and the Skull

9

During the week between their arrival and the day of the hunt, the Knights of Takhisis spent the time gingerly getting to know their Solamnic counterparts. They shared quarters and messes and turns about the watch. On the third day, a contingent of both Knights rode out to inspect several nearby castles, including Castle Kalstan, where Sir Liam Ehrling made his home when not attending Lord Gunthar. Gunthar could not help but notice Liam's scowl as his one time enemies tramped the grounds of his beloved castle, inspecting it approvingly.

Two Knights of Takhisis were sent to Xenos to invest the castle there and to prepare for Lord Tohr's eventual arrival. Xenos was to be handed over to Tohr as the base of his operations.

Nevertheless, aloofness remained between the once opposing orders. Gunthar and Tohr were always close by, defusing short tempers. The boar hunt would be the first true test of the Knights' unity.

The morning of the hunt rose gray and cold with the first breath of winter. A deep icy mist lay over Castle uth Wistan, shrouding its topmost towers and transforming the great trees of the surrounding forest into shadowy wraiths of giants. Water dripping from the eaves of the castle formed pools in the cobblestone stable yard where squires and horses waited, stamping their feet in the cold. The smoke of their breath wreathed the horses' heads, their harnesses jingling in the still air whenever they moved. The hounds, crowded in the door of the kennels, sat shivering with their gully dwarves, licking their wet noses, and yawning sleepily. Garr stood aloof from them all, a simple leash of well-chewed leather dangling from his great neck, his iron-gray chin whiskers sparkling with condensed mist. Uhoh scratched his cap and chewed the tip of his beard. A rooster crowed halfheartedly.

All the outer courtyard had already filled with people from the surrounding countryside-peasants, craftsmen, farmers, and merchants. Visitors had arrived from outlying cities and villages, from Garnet and Knas, Markennan and Gavin. They came in carriages, on horseback, and by foot, and they quickly filled the courtyard, spilling over into the open spaces between the castle and the forest. Some erected multicolored tents to shelter the wares they hoped to sell. Many came to watch the hunt, to see the Knights ride out with their hounds and their spears in all their pomp and glory, but most came to get a glimpse of the mysterious Knights of Takhisis so recently come to their island stronghold. Although it was a festive occasion, with jugglers and performers and street magicians entertaining the crowds atop hastily built stages, and merchants in their stalls hawking everything from buttons to barrels of wine, the cold and misty morning dampened all sound, while the chill fog subdued the mood of many a fair-goer. Jugglers dropped their batons and pins, troubadours forgot entire verses of even the best-known ballads, while the hawkers' cries were less than enthusiastic. Most people shook their heads in dismay, or made surreptitious signs to ward away evil.

No one really expected the infamous boar, Mannjaeger, to be killed this day. Mannjaeger wasn't flesh and blood. Weapons of iron, wood, or steel couldn't harm him. Most people native to Sancrist firmly believed the boar was an evil spirit left over from the Age of Dreams. Certainly, tales of his destructive ways stretched back into legend. Just as the hills had always been here, so had Mannjaeger. Huge he was, a giant among boars, the evil ruler of all lesser boars, the stories said, standing fully as tall as the tallest horse, his great black, razorhaired back humped like the hump of a whale, his hairless haunches crawling with ticks and bearing the scars of enough spear thrusts to fell a dragon. His ivory tusks, it was said, were each fully a yard in length, dusky twin scimitars able to shear through even the mountainforged links of dwarven mail. Some stories said his hot breath turned flesh to stone, while others held that it was the hate-filled glare of his baleful red eyes that froze men's blood and turned the bravest boar hound into a whimpering cur. Arrows turned to smoking ash upon striking him, and his hooves struck sparks wherever he stepped, lighting the fires that set fire to farmers' fields and barns.

Many were they who'd tried their luck and their courage against the terror of Mannjaeger. It was even said that Vinus Solamnus had hunted him in his time, without success. But perhaps Mannjaeger's most famous victim was Lord Gunthar uth Wistan's grandfather, old Seigfreid uth Wistan. One warm summer's day, whilst berry picking with his grandchildren, the elder lord of Castle uth Wistan surprised the boar in a thicket of whortleberry. Unarmed, he fought gamely to save the lives of his grandchildren, and paid with his life while they escaped.

Lord Gunthar was remembering his ancestor as he made his way to the stable yard, last in a long orderly procession of strangely subdued Knights of Takhisis and Solamnia. Like those already outside, the chill and foggy weather had affected the spirits of the Knights as well. They seemed introspective as they remembered the legends and myths surrounding the creature they were about to hunt. Not that they were afraid, for most of them had faced monsters equally fearsome. No, more than anything else the timing of the hunt felt wrong. It seemed hurried and ill-planned, and the bad weather only helped to strengthen their feelings that the hunt should be postponed. Gunthar's greatest worry was that the icy weather would prevent his hounds from scenting the boar's trail, but he was determined to go ahead with the hunt. His Knights needed saddle time with their new comrades in arms.

As they neared the door to the stable yard, a trumpet blared from a tower overhead. As if in answer to the fanfare of horns, the mist began to lift, unveiling banners with kingfishers, swords, and roses on fields of argent and blue hanging majestically from the towers. But for the first time, as a sign of the change, pennons of black and red also hung between those of blue, with images of skulls and lilies and wreathes of thorns emblazoned in gold upon them. At the sound of the trumpet, the Knights of both orders exited the castle, filing into the stable yard where their horses waited.

As Lord Gunthar stepped out into the gray dawn, the other Knights were mounting their horses and awaiting his arrival. Lord Tohr Malen sat astride a magnificent black stallion given him by his host for the occasion, while Gunthar's trusted retainer, Fawkes, held the bridle of Gunthar's own steed, Traveler-a dapple gray. Sir Liam clambered into the saddle of his great horse-a bay gelding-and sat hunched with a dark cloak gripped tightly around his body and the hood pulled low over his face against the cold. His breath, floating in smoky clouds from the hood, gave him a sorcerous appearance. Gunthar felt more than saw Liam's eyes staring out from that cowl. The past week had not been easy for Gunthar, watching his favorite student and chosen successor sulk and mope about the halls of the castle, a veritable harbinger of gloom. Well, Liam was just going to have to accept that this was the way things had to be, that was all. Gunthar slapped his heavy leather gauntlets against his thigh and descended the short stair to the cobblestones below.

As Fawkes held the stallion's bridle, Gunthar mounted into the saddle. Traveler sidestepped and danced a circle as he took the reins, until Gunthar brought him under control. With a wave of his hand, he sent Fawkes scurrying into the stable.

"Knights! Ladies! Gentlemen!" Gunthar shouted in a voice that seemed overloud in the lifting mist. "I pledge you all good hunting! Let us drink the stirrup cup of hot mead, as our fathers did of old."

At these words, Fawkes reappeared carrying a large steaming pewter horn. The vessel was carved with images of leaping stags, while wild, satyrlike creatures chased them with drawn bows. He handed it up to Lord Gunthar, who raised it in toast to his fellow Knights. When he had drunk, the horn passed among the others.

In all, both orders of Knighthood were equally represented, with six members from each. For the Solamnics, Lord Gunthar was their leader, with Liam Ehrling, Quintayne Fogorner, and Meredith Turningdale. Ellinghad Beauseant was present for the Knights of the Sword, and Lady Jessica of Isherwood represented the Crown Knights. Lord Tohr Malen led the Knights of Takhisis, with his seconds Alya Starblade and Valian Escu. The other Knights of Takhisis were ladies Cecelia and Delia Waering, sisters both by blood and by their vows of obedience to Takhisis. The lone Thorn Knight was the grayrobed Trevalyn Kesper, who sat in his short-stirruped saddle like a frost-bitten scribe on a stool, his knees up around his chest and his arms wrapped around them for warmth.

Each pair of Knights would be accompanied by a squire, who would carry spears and provide another pair of eyes during the hunt. Since the Knights of Takhisis had brought no servants with them, squires were chosen from the available men-at-arms at the castle. Also, much to the Knights' dismay, gully dwarves were to trail along, to attend to the hounds. Most considered the gully dwarves more a hindrance than a help, but they consoled themselves with the fact that all would quickly be left in the dust once the chase began.

Gunthar chose Uhoh to attend him. While the others waited their turns with the cup, he introduced the gully dwarf to Trevalyn. Already discomfited by having to participate in such a vigorous event as a hunt and miserable in the cold, wet weather, Trevalyn withdrew deeper into his gray robes and said not a word in response. Gunthar shrugged and raised his hand to get everyone's attention.

"When the first hound strikes a trail, the nearest squire will blow his horn," Gunthar directed. "When you hear it, break off your hunt and converge with the sound of the horn. The forest is crisscrossed with game trails, so it is rather easy to become lost if you do not know the way. If you do get lost and cannot find your way back to the castle before dark, we will blow the great horn from the tower gate every turning of the glass, until all have returned safely, or until darkwatch. You should find blankets and provisions in your saddlebags, should you not make it back to the castle by that time."

Lord Gunthar rode now to the gate, the others turning their horses to follow him. The people in the courtyard stopped whatever they were doing to watch. Gunthar halted his horse and stood in the stirrups, turning to face the Knights. "The gods grant you grace and good hunting. Knights! Forward!" Trumpeters on the battlements blew a fanfare as Gunthar and his Knights rode out.

The people cheered and crowded close to gawk and stare, while the gully dwarves and hounds surged forward, running around and between the horses' legs to get to the front. The large gray hounds cavorted and capered about on their long legs, barking as though laughing with joy. The squires with their bundles of tall spears flanked the group of Knights, some riding well wide of the procession to catch the attention of a group of fur-cloaked ladies gathered near one of the stages. As the Knights crossed the courtyard to the blare of trumpets, pandemonium erupted among the merchants' stalls. Cages tumbled and tables toppled, with chickens and small children cackling and flying every which direction, pursued by hungry gully dwarves. Gunthar rode in front, with the pairs of Knights in ranks following him. Trevalyn Kesper brought up the rear, while a string of whispering children followed at a short distance, daring each other to throw a stone at the gray-robed Knight. He made it a point to ignore them, until a panicked chicken crashed into his head with an explosion of white feathers. His audience rolled on the wet ground, giggling hysterically, but he soon left them behind, his dignity as ruffled as the feathers he picked out of his beard.

Uhoh Ragnap scurried hither and thither, thwacking gully dwarves on the head with a discarded riding crop he'd picked up somewhere, and rousting hounds with the toe of his boot, until he managed to get all his charges outside the castle walls. One or two of his fellow Aghar burped feathers and hid their guilty smiles behind grubby hands. The Knights rode out behind the last hound, followed by the squires, who had to duck their spears to get them under the postern. Once free of the confines of the courtyard, they loosened their reins and galloped about the green. Uhoh sighed and leaned against the wall, and the great hound Garr paced over and stood beside him, staring sleepily at nothing in particular, as if to say, "When you are ready to be serious about this, let me know."

Uhoh was not allowed a long rest, for soon the hounds and gully dwarves had found the merchant stalls outside the walls of the castle. A stampede of sheep nearly toppled the stage where an acrobat was demonstrating his balancing skill atop a ladder. He fell with a shriek into a cart laden with apples. "Fungduggers!" Uhoh cursed as he stomped off, the riding crop held menacingly in his small fist. He turned back to the great hound. "Garr! Find. Gather," he shouted.

With a yawn, Garr trotted into the crowd. Soon, canine yelps of pain sounded over the noise of the fair, as hounds pelted by the merchants, singly or in small groups, emerged to gather near the edge of the forest. Alongside them trotted gully dwarves sporting fresh new red welts.

Finally, everyone collected near the forest: Knights, squires, hounds, and gully dwarves. The crowds pushed along, trying to get a glimpse, wishing to be near when the hounds were loosed. All the while the mist continued to lift until, as though Paladine himself, gone now from Krynn but not forgotten, gave his divine approval to the proceedings, the sun broke free from the mist and bathed the field in scarlet and gold light. The colors of the tents and banners and flags leaped out from the mist, seeming to burn it away like a bad dream.

The Knights began to talk excitedly of hunts remembered and forgotten, hounds yelped and barked, horses stomped and blew in their eagerness to run, filling the air with military noises and smells of cavalry. Gunthar smiled hugely, seeing his Knights and the Knights of Takhisis forgetting their differences in their excitement about the day.

Gunthar rose in the stirrups and gestured to a nearby squire. "Release the hounds!" he shouted. The squire lifted a silver trumpet to his lips and blew a long wild quavering air. The pack erupted with howls and boiled into the forest. Uhoh, clinging to Garr's leash, was dragged, laughing hysterically, into the underbrush by the massive hound. He soon vanished in the gloom. The crowd roared with delight.

Next, knights and squires put spurs to their mounts and leaped in pursuit. Lord Tohr's black warhorse led the charge down the main road to Gavin, while others veered onto smaller trails along the way. Soon, most of the Knights were out of sight, strung out along miles of dark winding forest paths, while all around them in the impenetrable wood they heard hounds yelping and barking uncertainly as they searched for a scent of the boar. They quickly left behind all but the sturdiest of the gully dwarves, most of whom were only too glad to return to the fair.

Within a hundred yards of entering the forest, Trevalyn Kesper was bounced from his saddle and landed with a thud in the middle of the road. This was not unexpected, as the Thorn Knights were mages and not used to the rigors of the saddle. His horse continued along its merry way, apparently intending to continue the hunt despite the loss of his rider. He rose and stalked back to the castle.

As the morning progressed, the hunt spread farther and wider throughout the forest. Lord Gunthar found himself alone, having lost his squire at the crossing of a thinly iced stream. Soon he came upon Uhoh trotting back down the trail, a bit of broken leash still in his fist. A nest of leaves and twigs stuck out from his rat-skin cap. "Hello, Papa!" the gully dwarf grinned with dirt-caked teeth. "This some hunt!"

As if in answer, a horn blew wildly somewhere to their left. "There he is!" Gunthar exclaimed. He stopped his mount and allowed Uhoh to clamber up behind him. They heard hounds baying and howling, the sound dwindling in the distance. With Uhoh finally settled in, Gunthar touched spurs to Traveler's sides and charged off down the forest path. The trail was well known to him, for he'd rode it many a time, even at night, so Gunthar was not afraid to allow Traveler his full head. The forest raced by in a blur of speed, wind whistling in their ears.

After a while, Gunthar reined in his mount to listen. Uhoh clung tightly to his waist, almost squeezing the breath from the old man. As they stood on the trail beneath a huge elm tree, Uhoh pointed off to their right. At first Gunthar didn't hear, but then perhaps the hounds drew closer, for he caught, at the edge of hearing, a squire's horn blowing.

"Aha!" he growled.

He was about to give Traveler a spur when Uhoh tugged at his elbow. "No, Papa! No, Papa!" he shouted. "Listen."

Now behind them, another horn was blowing. Then another to their right, and then ahead. All around them hounds bayed, hot on a trail, some moving away, one toward them, one across their path.

"Some mischief is afoot, my boy," Gunthar said to Uhoh. "There can't be this many boars in the forest today."

"Mischief, Papa. Very bad mischief," Uhoh agreed as he renewed his grip on his master.

Gunthar struggled to breathe. Somehow, the forest seemed close and hot, the air too thin, or perhaps it was Uhoh's vicelike hold around his belly. He felt the blood pounding in the veins of his neck, flushing his cheeks. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

"Uhoh, loosen up a bit, my boy," he gasped. "Let me catch my breath."

Struggling to breathe, Gunthar urged Traveler ahead, but the horse only took a few hesitant steps. The air seemed to grow thinner by the moment. Gunthar heard Uhoh gasping frantically behind him. It was as though all the air of the forest was being sucked up, devoured, even from their lungs. The sounds of the horns and hounds dwindled and faded, until all they could hear was their own wheezing.

Then they heard it-a woofing and chugging sound, like a gnomish engine broken loose and running berserk through the forest. Twigs cracked and branches snapped, the ground thudded as something hugely dark and menacing bulled through the forest immediately to the left of the path. Gunthar felt it more than he saw it, like a great shadow of evil moving at the edge of sight. A hot fetid air carried a smell wholly wild and untamed to his nostrils. This was a smell he remembered; it rose up, ghostlike, from his childhood memories. He'd smelled it the day his grandfather was slain.

Uhoh whimpered and buried his face in Gunthar's back, while Traveler pranced and whinnied hysterically. Gunthar fought to control his mount, while at the same time fighting to control his own terror. He hadn't really expected to see Mannjaeger this day. The hunt was just an exercise of knightly skills, with the possibility of getting meat for the table. Even to Gunthar, who'd seen his own grandfather slain by the beast, Mannjaeger had always seemed the stuff of legends, a dark figure prowling through the nightmares of his childhood.

The monster passed them by without even turning its head to look at them. It was like some boulder, freed from a mountain side and rolling along, oblivious, elemental, almost ethereal. When it had gone out of sight, Gunthar found his voice, as did Uhoh.

"Hell's bells," the elderly Knight swore.

Uhoh cried, "Oh, bad mischief. Very bad mischief two times!"

Gunthar tightened his grip on his spear and urged his mount down the trail. The forest seemed to close in around them, sending questing roots into the path to trip Gunthar's horse and dangling branches to slap his eye. Before long, their progress brought them back within the spell of thin air surrounding the beast. They heard it chuffing through the undergrowth ahead of them, and the air grew charged with tension and fear, as though they had caught up to a slow moving thunderstorm. It was all Gunthar could do to keep Traveler forging ahead; trained warhorse that he was, he balked at every breaking twig.

The trail turned suddenly and unexpectedly, in a way unfamiliar to Gunthar's experience. He wondered if he hadn't taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. In any case, he now noticed in the distance ahead an arch of golden light marking the end of the trail. Traveler stepped up when he saw it and began to trot. Gunthar tried to rein him back, but to no avail; the horse seemed desperate to reach the light. Gunthar swore and shouted, tugged and tore at the reins, but Traveler galloped onward, tossing his mane and snorting.

Suddenly, a loop of leafy vine seemed to materialize before them. It hung over the path as perfectly as a trap intentionally set. Traveler easily ducked his head under it, but Gunthar, atop the saddle and encased as he was in stiff armor, could not bend so low. Desperately, he tried to fend off the vine with the shaft of his spear, but his aim was awry from the palsy in his hands. The vine looped under his arm. Gunthar dropped the reins and grabbed the saddle horn, hoping to hold himself in the saddle. The vine stretched taught, creaked, branches snapped overhead, but the great dappled war horse plunged against its pull. It was more than the old man could take. His fingers slipped from the sweaty leather horn. The vine catapulted him from the saddle.

It was very strange, those brief few airborne moments. Gunthar had flown dragonback during the War of the Lance, but even riding a dragon wasn't that much different than riding a horse-if you didn't look down. But this was different. For one thing, he had a gully dwarf crawling over his shoulder. Secondly, he no longer claimed a saddle between his legs, even though his legs retained the saddle shape in mid-air. Thirdly, the moment he realized he was airborne, he could only think of how he might land.

But the flight lasted a few heartbeats at most, hardly enough time to think of a landing. As the ground rushed up at him, Gunthar realized he still had hold of his spear, so he threw it away to keep from landing on it. Uhoh continued to claw and scratch until he was on top of Gunthar's chest. The old man landed flat on his back, and small as the gully dwarf was, Uhoh's weight crushed the air from Gunthar's lungs.

Uhoh screamed. Even after they hit the ground, and even after they'd been on the ground for a while, he continued to scream. He screamed until Gunthar summoned enough strength to push him from his chest, where Uhoh still clung in terror. Slowly, Gunthar sat up, feeling twinges race up and down his spine.

"I'm going to pay for that in the morning," he moaned.

"Very bad mischief," Uhoh whimpered.

"Very bad indeed. Why did you have to land on poor old Papa?" Gunthar asked.

"Uhoh on bottom, very bad," he answered. "Papa two times as big as Uhoh."

"I feel like I've just lost a dragon joust," Gunthar said. He looked around, wincing at the pain of turning his head. "Now where did that crazy horse get to? I thought surely he'd stop when he felt us fall. It isn't like him to rim away."

"Horse go that way," Uhoh said, pointing to where the path ended under the shimmering arch.

Gunthar rose painfully to his feet, assisted with a feeble shove from behind by the gully dwarf. "I'm not as young as once I was," he said. "Do you know how old I am, my boy?"

"Two and two and two?"

"That's right. Two and two and two, and many more two." He put his fists in the small of his back and straightened up, groaning.

"That many," Uhoh said with awe. "You older than Great Highbulp."

"I am older than these very hills. When I was born, this place was flat. No trees, no mountains. Just me. The hills came later," Gunthar moaned as he finally reached his full height.

"Come. We go now," Uhoh said.

"No, no. That's the wrong way," Gunthar said as Uhoh retreated up the path.

"This way to castle," Uhoh said, pointing hopefully.

"But we have to find Traveler, my boy. We have to finish the hunt. A true Knight never breaks off contact with the enemy so easily," Gunthar said.

Reluctantly, kicking leaves and angrily swinging his arms, Uhoh returned to Gunthar's side.

"That's better. Chin up, my boy. You are already on your way to becoming a true Knight. Let's see where this path leads," Gunthar said.

"Probably very bad place," Uhoh mumbled as he stumbled behind his master.

They followed the unfamiliar trail for another hundred yards or so, before it finally opened into a large glade filled with golden light. Gunthar squinted in the brightness, but the hazy air prevented him from judging the position of the sun, and thus the time of day. The air hummed with unseen wings. As Gunthar and Uhoh entered the glade, their feet kicked up swarms of grasshoppers and tiny lace-winged midges. The grass was tall and golden-green, as were the leaves of the strange bushes growing in natural hedges along the banks of a silver stream; their leaves were golden on one side, forestgreen on the other, and they bore berries of silver and red. The air was warm and humid, more like a summer's day in Palanthas than an autumn morning on the Isle of Sancrist.

"This is altogether uncanny," Gunthar said. "I've lived here all my life, but I've never seen this place before. Or have I?" He stroked his mustaches and looked around. Something seemed very familiar about this place.

"That a long time," Uhoh said as he scratched his ratskin cap.

"I can't seem to focus my eyes in this light," Gunthar commented.

Uhoh squinted and peered, but being a gully dwarf, he relied more on his sense of smell. "Smells like faeries," he said.

"It does look rather elvish, doesn't it," Gunthar said. "Is that a whortleberry patch I see?"

"Definitely fairies," Uhoh said, sniffing again. "Lots of faeries. Two and two and two."

"It certainly seems peaceful. I can't remember being more at peace. This is very strange. I feel so sleepy," Gunthar said with a gaping yawn.

"Fairies very bad. We go now. Back to castle," Uhoh said as he tugged at his master's hand.

Gunthar leaned against his spear. "How did I get here?" he mumbled. "I was looking for something. What was it?"

"Nothing. Come go," Uhoh said insistently.

"My Measure!" Gunthar exclaimed. "Where did I put it?" He patted the pouches at his belt, then stared down at Uhoh. "Tasslehoff Burrfoot, did you take my Measure?"

"What? No! Me not know," Uhoh said, his voice trembling with fear.

"Tell Lord Derek this is no time for political squabbles. We need every able-bodied Knight for the defense of Palanthas!" Gunthar shouted. He spun on his heel and stalked deeper into the glade. Uhoh followed him at a distance.

As he neared the stream, Gunthar froze in mid-stride. Suddenly, the glade was still, silent. A cloud moved in front of the sun, darkening the air. Gunthar blinked, then stepped back in confusion. He raised his spear in defense, threatening the empty air.

And then he saw it-a great shaggy shape under the eaves of the forest on the opposite side of the glade. It looked like a piece of a mountain come to life and descended from the highlands. Its back rose in a spiked hump fully as high as a grown man's head, while its head was as big around as a pickle barrel. It stared at Gunthar and seemed to yawn, baring its long, glistening ivory tusks, self-whetting weapons as sharp as the blade of an elven dagger. Its piggy red eyes seemed almost to glow in the shadow of its tremendous bulk. When still, it looked as inanimate as stone-when moving, as unstoppable as an avalanche. The tall grass, and even small trees and bushes, bent before its onrushing mass. Quickly, almost before thoughts of danger could form in Gunthar's charmbefuddled mind, the boar crossed the glade and vanished into the gloom of the forest.

Gunthar took another startled step back, almost dropping his spear as he stumbled into Uhoh. Slowly, the normal sounds of the magical summer glade returned.

"Papa go," Uhoh whispered, but Gunthar didn't answer.

Instead, he watched another shaggy shape appear from the forest, almost at the same spot where he'd seen the first one. This one was smaller and ran with its nose to the ground. For a moment, Gunthar was confused, but then the shape lifted its head and bayed long and mournfully.

"Garr!" Uhoh shouted.

The great hound tucked back his ears and dashed across the meadow, hot on the trail of the boar. "He's got the scent," Gunthar said. "By the gods, he's got him now! Come on, my boy, follow me!"

Gunthar seemed to draw youth and vigor from the excitement of the hunt. Once his quarry was spotted and his hound bayed the scent, he seemed to forget his aches and pains. Gunthar loped across the meadow and splashed through the stream, the weight of his armor seeming hardly any encumbrance at all. He felt almost as though he were flying with winged feet, as if he might leave the ground and take to the upper winds. The heavy boar spear, with its crossbar of iron just below the steel head, plowed a wake through the grass before him.