by Jeff Crook
"What now, oh great one?" the kapak asked.
"Our work here is complete," the bronze pronounced from the cowl of his robe. "Soon now, my illusions and the illusions of the others will disappear, and those hunting phantom boars will give up their chase and return to the castle. When they do, they'll find Gunthar has not returned, and they'll search for him. That will give us enough time to collect our fee and be gone from this place."
"And then?" the coppery draconian asked with a sly look in his red eye.
"And then nothing, my kapak friend," the bronze snarled. "You return to your sneaking, while we bozaks return to our cleaning up your mistakes with our magic."
"Mistakes! What mistakes? This has gone off perfectly, according to our plan. We didn't even need your help," the kapak snarled. " The Old Man says 'take the bozaks' so we take the bozaks."
"And a good thing, too. If not for me, you would have completely forgotten our gully dwarf friend over there," the bozak laughed derisively. "Go now and make sure his wounds are sufficient to have killed him, even without your poison. We can't have anyone getting suspicious."
With a murderous glance at his companion, the kapak drew an odd dagger from his belt. The dagger's blade was made from a boar's tusk, polished and razor sharp. He started across the trail, but the bozak yanked him back with an excited snarl.
"Idiot!" the bozak screeched. "You'll ruin my spells of concealment. Go around! And be careful."
Glaring at his companion, the kapak stalked around the bodies, stepping carefully with his clawed feet to avoid disturbing a single twig or leaf. Despite his awkward appearance, with large reptilian wings and long snaking tail held aloft for balance, he moved as gracefully and noiselessly as a Palanthian cutpurse. As he neared the body of Lord Gunthar and the gully dwarf lying still as a stone beside him, his long tongue slithered out in anticipation of the mutilation to come. Draconians were cruel, malicious creatures, artificially created when darkest magics were used to twist and defile the eggs of good dragons. A little wanton destruction and mutilation is not so lowly an entertainment as to not excite their appetite for evil. The kapak laughed under its breath as it grasped the gully dwarf by the wrist and rolled him over.
Uhoh awoke with a heart-stopping scream of terror. Its volume momentarily stunned the kapak so that he nearly let go. Still half blind with sleep, Uhoh shouted, "I tell no one, Papa! I not tell!" He kicked and fought to escape, his small but dangerous yellow teeth flashing as he snapped at the claw that held him.
Recovering from his surprise at finding the gully dwarf alive, the kapak struggled to maintain his grip, all the while trying to avoid those clashing yellow teeth. Gully dwarf bites aren't usually poisonous, but they hurt. With a deft move, he flipped Uhoh over and lifted him by one foot. Like the special holds used by minotaur alligator wrestlers, this seemed to have some mystical calming effect on the gully dwarf. Now upside-down, he fell still and quiet, blinking at the draconians fearfully.
"I'll bleed him out," the kapak said as he lowered his tusk-dagger to Uhoh's throat.
"Wait!" the bozak snarled. "Idiot. Don't kill him yet."
"Why not?" the kapak shouted angrily. "Make up your mind, boz!"
"Find out what he knows. Didn't you hear him? 'I tell no one, Papa,' he said. Tell no one what? What did Gunthar tell him before he died?" the bozak asked in hurried and excited whispers.
"Speak up, little rat," the kapak demanded. "What did Gunthar say to you?"
"Papa say lots of things," Uhoh squeaked.
The kapak shook him violently by his leg. "You know what I mean. What are you not supposed to tell? Speak up, before I cut you."
"Kill me, you never find out," Uhoh whispered.
The kapak started at these words, his fanged, reptilian jaw dropping open in surprise. Unable to hear, the bozak demanded, "What did he say?"
"This is no ordinary gully dwarf!" the kapak growled as he shook Uhoh even more violently than before. Uhoh's teeth clacked together like steam-driven gnomish castanets.
"What did he say?" the bozak demanded.
"He won't talk," the kapak said, still shaking Uhoh.
"Bind him, then. We'll take him back to the mountain for… deeper questioning," the bozak ordered. "If Gunthar suspected anything and spoke of it to the gully dwarf, we'll need to know what it was so we can warn the others. Destroy all paths that lead back to the mountain—that is the fourth law of Iulus. There can't be a single clue tying us, or he who hired us. No traces, no witnesses."
Reluctantly, the kapak sheathed his tusk-dagger and loosened a coil of thin rope from his belt, all the while holding Uhoh aloft. Meanwhile, the bozak made a last few magical adjustments to the surrounding area, just to make doubly sure no draconian tracks remained in the soft forest soil. Uhoh whimpered softly, a bit dazed from his shaking. Then he blinked, suddenly alert, and quiet. A few leaves rustled, as though stirred by some unseen breeze. The kapak halted, sniffing, testing the air with his tongue.
From the concealing undergrowth just off the path, a large gray blur streaked out. The kapak screamed in agony, dropping Uhoh on his head. The gully dwarf rolled to his feet, wincingly gripping his bruised pate, and shouting excitedly, "Millisant!"
The boar hound had a firm toothy grip on the kapak's tail and was shaking it like a snake, growling low in her throat. It was a testament to her strength and anger that the screaming draconian was tossed about like a gnome with his suspenders caught in his own machine. Yanked from his feet, he kicked and clawed at the forest floor, trying to regain his footing and ruining all the bozak's careful work of concealment.
With a snarl of rage, the bozak leaped into the fray, then leaped out, painfully shaking his well-chewed hand. With a leaping cavort and a high baritone bark of victory, Millisant dashed away, followed quickly by the gully dwarf. The draconians stared in stunned silence at the woods, then angrily began to blame each other.
12
A horn continued to blow mournfully throughout the night. As the first snow of the year began to fall, outriders were sent along the better-known trails, calling for Lord Gunthar in case he was lost in the dark. Uhoh slipped past them without being seen, but as he neared the castle, he wondered how he was going to get around the guards at the gate. He sat in the bushes with Millisant at his side and waited. There was nothing else to be done, but he simply had to find a way into the castle without being seen. Soon the snow lay thick across his shoulders and stood in a comical white pile on Millisant's snout. She whuffled and settled onto her haunches, blinking her long lashes at him. Uhoh nodded, as though he understood her perfectly.
As Uhoh sat there, growing sleepy with the cold, a commotion erupted near the gate. Lord Gunthar's horse, Traveler, had appeared from the wood, lame with a tusk wound. As Uhoh watched, Liam Ehrling and Tohr Malen came out from the castle and examined the shivering, exhausted horse, while more riders were quickly mounted and sent out in search of Lord Gunthar. From the castle poured a great many of the other Knights, while a crowd of lingering fair-goers gathered close by to try to get a glimpse of the horse. Uhoh slipped in beside them and inched his way toward the gate, Millisant at his heel. He glanced around and saw the guards busy watching the spectacle, so he dashed beneath the postern and into the courtyard of the castle. As he entered, grooms from the stables hurried out to see to Traveler's wounds, while villagers and Knights alike speculated upon Gunthar's fate.
More than once as they made their furtive way to the stable yard and the kennels, Uhoh and Millisant were forced to detour around Knights and guards nervously patrolling the castle. Luckily, there were still quite a number of peasants and merchants who had not yet gone home from the fair. Besides, what was one more gully dwarf or dog?
Sheep, cattle, and goats wandered the night-darkened grounds searching for some nibble of food, or huddled in small pens sleepily eyeing all the commotion. One old heifer waited alone by her owner's stall, lowing pitifully for a milking, but no one paid her any mind. Every so often,
a trumpeter atop the tallest tower of the castle blew his mournful dirge over the forest, a noisy beacon to those lost in the night.
After what seemed liked hours, Uhoh finally reached the stable yard. He found it empty and dark. Inside the stables, horses from the hunt slept in their stalls, while the grooms and retainers were out searching the grounds for any sign of the castle's lost master. Uhoh crept to the door of the kennels and silently opened it. A low dangerous growl answered him.
"Shhhhh!" he hissed.
The growling stopped. "Who there?" someone asked.
"It me. Uhoh Ragnap, esquire," Uhoh answered.
"Uhoh dead. You his ghost?" A note of fear had crept into the speaker's voice.
"I not dead!" Uhoh said. "See. No spook. Me real." He proudly slapped his chest.
Slowly, a pair of gully dwarves appeared from the darkness. Uhoh stepped back so they could see him more clearly in the dim light from the courtyard. One of them was small even for a gully dwarf; she hardly came up to Uhoh's elbow. The second gully dwarf, though much larger than his companion, kept fearfully to the shadows. He was taller than Uhoh by a head, not counting the nest of hair standing straight up from the crown of his head.
"We hear they blow horn for you," the taller Aghar said from the shadows.
"Me no lost," Uhoh said. "Uhoh never get lost."
"What about time when… " the taller one began, before the shorter gully dwarf interrupted him.
"They blow horn 'cause you dead," she said as she stepped forward and gave Uhoh a vicious poke to the ribs. "But you not dead. You 'live!" She stepped back in awe.
"Me almost killed by slagd," Uhoh said. "But Uhoh 'scape. Very clever."
"Slagd!" the tall one cried as he vanished again.
But the short one was not so credulous. "Where you see slagd?" she asked suspiciously.
"Uhoh not see. Uhoh picked up, dropped on head by slagd, almost killed!" Uhoh said.
"If you not see slagd, how you know they slagd?" she asked.
"Shut up, Glabella," Uhoh said to her. "You not understand 'cause you not there."
"Psh. You lie," she answered him.
"Me not lie. Papa dead!" Uhoh shouted impatiently. His voice echoing around the stable yard sent him cringing into the shadows of the kennel. He lowered his voice. "Papa dead," he whispered. "Me there. He tell me Knights bad. He tell me secret nobody knows, me run away home. He tell me tell nobody."
"Papa dead?" Glabella asked. "What secret?" she added with a greedy hiss, her little black eyes flashing.
"Me tell you, it not a secret no more. Very imp… very imp… very big secret. And slagd want to kill me."
"Why they try kill you?" Glabella asked.
Uhoh scratched his cap and thought for a moment. "Don't know," he said finally. "Maybe they mad 'cause I kill their pig."
"What pig?"
"Big pig what we hunt," Uhoh said.
"Psh. You lie. You not kill pig. Nobody ever kill pig."
"You not know nothing," Uhoh snarled. "Pig dead. Papa dead. Slagd try to make Uhoh dead. Me run away now."
"How many slagd?" the tall gully dwarf asked from the darkness.
"Two!" Uhoh said importantly.
"That many!" the tall one screeched.
"Shhhh!" came a hiss from the darkness. Someone yawned loudly, but Uhoh couldn't tell if it was another Aghar, or just one of the hounds.
"Be quiet, Lumpo. You scream like someone step on toe," he reprimanded the tall gully dwarf. "I sneak back to get things. Now I go home." He entered the kennel and felt his way to the far wall. There he found a small, wellchewed leather bag with a long strap. He slung this over one shoulder and turned to leave, stumbling over the bag because it hung almost to his feet. "Millisant, come!" he whispered. By the time he reached the door, the female hound was at his side, her long tail wagging excitedly.
"Why you run away, Uhoh?" Glabella asked in sudden concern. "You no lie?"
Uhoh stopped and placed one hand ceremoniously over his protruding belly. "Uhoh swear," he said.
"Slagd really try to kill you?" she asked.
"That right. Me know secret. They try to make me talk, but me get away. Millisant come, bite slagd on tail, he drop me on head. Me run away." He patted Millisant on the head, ruffling her ears. She licked his filthy face.
"And Papa say Knights bad?" Glabella asked, catching Uhoh by the sleeve as he started past her.
"Not all, he say. He say warn the rest. You warned now. Me go home."
"Home!" They were awed by the magnitude of his decision.
Glabella sniffled. "Me go home, too," she said. She dashed off into a corner to gather her things. Uhoh sighed and scratched Millisant behind the ears while he waited.
Suddenly, Lumpo turned and vanished into the utter darkness of the kennel. "You not leave me alone with these gullduggers," he cried. "Me go home, too."
Soon Uhoh's companions were ready. Each one wore a leather bag similar to Uhoh's slung low to the ground. Glabella's dragged behind her wherever she walked. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Uhoh stumbled out into the stable yard with Millisant close at heel. Glabella followed, and Lumpo brought up the rear.
"Where home?" Lumpo asked.
"Town," Uhoh answered.
"Oh. How far?"
"Two days. Not more than two," Glabella said.
13
Three days had passed since Dalian Escu stumbled upon Gunthar's body lying in the snow. At his feet had lain his broken spear, by his side the noble hound who'd fought Mannjaeger to the death. Master and hound, together they rested, with a soft coverlet of frosty white solemnly veiling their still forms, as it should have been. Nearby loomed the massive elemental bulk of the great boar, his body pierced a dozen times by Gunthar's spear before the final fatal blow lodged in his heart. Unlucky thirteen, some noted.
In the cold dawn, they brought the Grand Master out from the castle to the courtyard, where fresh snow was falling on the bowed heads and slumped shoulders of those gathered for the funeral. Most were simple villagers and townsfolk from all over the Isle of Sancrist, but others had crossed seas to be here. Word of Gunthar's death went out with dragonback messengers to Northern and Southern Ergoth, to the Isle of Cristyne, to Qualinost and to Palanthas, and dignitaries from the nearest lands of Krynn had come at the summons. Silver dragons were seen circling in the gray, snow-laden clouds overhead, and also, someone claimed, a lone gold dragon had passed over the battlements in the night. The day before, blue dragons had come bearing more Knights of Takhisis, as well as condolences from their supreme leader, Lady Mirielle Abrena. Sir Liam Ehrling, distraught by the death of his master, had kept to his room until the morning of the funeral.
As the doors opened and the pallbearers appeared, a hush fell over the crowd. Freshly fallen snow muted the footsteps of those who bore Lord Gunthar. He rested not in a casket. Instead, he lay upon a wooden stretcher, and four Knights carried him—Knights of Solamnia Quintayne Fogorner and Ellinghad Beauseant, and Knights of Takhisis Tohr Malen and Valian Escu. Behind them strode Meredith Turningdale, bearing Gunthar's shield, and lastly Liam Ehrling, bearing his sword. Lord Gunthar was covered with a white linen shroud strewn with red roses and tiny golden crowns. At his feet lay the ivory tusks of Mannjaeger, trophies of his last battle.
In silence, they laid him on the snow-covered ground, and in silence the mourners passed, leaving roses and other tokens at his side. Flakes falling from the sky alighted softly on his face but did not melt, until he looked like some ancient god of winter, asleep in his snowy bower with his offerings heaped about him. Liam stood at his head, Lady Meredith at his feet, and they quietly greeted each person as he or she stopped beside Gunthar's form. Though he struggled to maintain his composure, many a choked tear streaked Liam chiseled face, while Meredith let her grief flow like quiet rain.
When all had paid their respects, the bearers once again lifted Gunthar and returned him to the castle. Never again would he leave it.
The g
athered Knights and delegates of towns, villages, lands, and nations filed into the old chapel behind the pallbearers and took their seats in the pews lining the aisle. They laid Gunthar on the altar beneath an ancient symbol of the platinum dragon, then stepped back and made their way to their seats. When all were finally seated, the chapel grew quiet, so quiet that ice crystals were heard striking the glazed windows of the chapel. Outside, the snow had changed to sleet, as the townspeople, villagers and foresters of Sancrist began to make their way home, returning to the farms and fields, homesteads and mills they'd left to pay their last respects to the master of Castle uth Wistan. Many did not know what the morrow would bring, whether the Knights of Solamnia would die with the Grand Master, or be reborn in the merging of the two orders. Many of those gathered in the chapel wondered the same thing.
So profound was the silence of the chapel that several people started when, with a loud click, a door behind the altar opened. From it emerged a man bowed with the weight of many years. Thin wisps of gray hair hung in streamers around his wrinkled brown face, and he leaned heavily upon a stick as he hobbled through the door. He was helped along by a younger woman dressed in long robes of pristine but unadorned white. From a single, simple comb, long raven tresses streaked with gray spilled loosely over her shoulders. Hers was a face of classical beauty, with its proud chin and cheekbones that some might have called haughty, were they not softened by wisdom and age. But her dark eyes held no light. She stared blankly ahead, so that even those at the back of the chapel knew at a glance that she was blind. Still, she somehow led the elderly man down the steps and to the front pew, where he took his seat beside Liam Ehrling.
As she turned, he held her hand a moment longer, and croaked in a voice weary with grief, "Thank you, Crysania."
"You are welcome, dear Wills," she answered.
As if by magic, the music of her voice cleansed the room of the brooding silence that had gripped it since Gunthar was brought in. The people seemed suddenly to relax in their pews; there was a noise of shuffling and adjusting, the creaking of armor and the rustling of fabric. Someone coughed, and there were even a few whispers.