Harry Turtledove - The Scepter's return

And then there was a crashing in the woods, and a loud, deep grunt, and a shout of, "Boar! Boar!"

The hunters all leaped to their feet and grabbed for their weapons. Wild boar were the most dangerous beasts in the woods. Their tusks could gut a man as easily as a knife gutted a deer. Some of the guards had boar spears, with a crosspiece on the shaft to keep a boar from running up it and savaging the spearman despite being wounded.

More yells said the beaters were trying to head off the boar and keep it away from Lanius and Anser. But the crashing came closer with terrifying speed. The boar sounded like an angry common pig when it squealed, or what a common pig would have sounded like if it were much larger and fiercer than it really was.

And then, fast as a stone flung from a catapult, the boar was upon them. An arrow stood in its shoulder, but seemed only to enrage it. Its little eyes were red as blood. Its head swung until it aimed straight at Lanius. Then it charged.

Two guards managed to spring between the boar and the king. One of the men went down. The boar lowered its head and slashed at him with its tusks. The other guardsman drove his spear home and hung on for dear life. The boar screamed and kept trying to break free.

Anser put an arrow into it, then another and another. Lanius nocked a shaft and let fly, too. This time, he wasn't trying to miss. Anything to make that bellowing, sharp-toothed horror lie down and never move again!

Blood ran from the boar's mouth. The flow choked its bellows. Slowly, struggling to the end, it yielded to death.

"Olor's beard!" Anser exclaimed. "That was more exciting than I really wanted."

"I should say so," Lanius agreed shakily. "Why would anyone want to hunt a monster like that?" He turned to the guardsman the boar had savaged. He wasn't sure he wanted to look at what the animal had done to the man, but the guard was sitting up and getting to his feet. "Are you all right?" Lanius asked in amazement.

"A little trampled, Your Majesty, but not too bad," the guardsman answered. "The mailshirt kept him from opening me up."

"Let's see your beaters say that about the leather they wear," Lanius told Anser.

"They can't," the arch-hallow admitted. "I'm glad the guardsmen managed to slow that beast down. The miserable thing was coming right at you."

Lanius had noticed that, too. "Yes, it was, wasn't it?" he said, as calmly as he could. Was the Banished One able to take over a boar's mind the way he could take over a thrall's mind? Had he used this boar as a weapon against someone who was giving him trouble? Or is my imagination running away with me? Lanius wondered. He doubted he would ever know.

I hope I'm giving the Banished One trouble, anyhow, he thought, and wondered if he would ever know the answer to that.

"Another river to cross," Grus said, staring across a stream shrunken in the summer drought. A few Menteshe rode back and forth on the other side, not far from the southern bank. Right now, the river wasn't anywhere close to a bowshot wide. The nomads stayed out of range of Avornan archers.

Hirundo looked across the river, too. "Now the question is, how many of those bastards aren't we seeing? How many of them are waiting somewhere not too far away to hit us when we cross?"

Grus shaded his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Doesn't look like country where you could hide anything much bigger than a dragonfly." Several of them danced in the air above the river. They had blue bodies so bright they almost glowed and wings of a dusky brown. Grus didn't remember seeing any like them farther north.

The general nodded. "No, it doesn't," he agreed. "But how much aren't we seeing? Do they have wizards hiding a forest — and a swarm of Menteshe inside it?"

"Good question," Grus said, and shouted for Pterocles.

"You need something, Your Majesty?" the wizard asked.

"Who, me?" The king shook his head. "No, I was just yelling because I like to hear myself make noise." Pterocles blinked, not sure what to make of such royal irony. Grus went on, "Are the Menteshe on the far side of the river using magic to hide an ambush?"

"Ah. Now that's an intriguing question, isn't it?" Pterocles said. "I'll see if I can find out." Before, he hadn't seemed to care one way or the other what lay on the far side of the river. Now he looked over there with fresh interest. "Where would be the best place for them to hide their men, if they're doing that?"

"Hirundo?" Grus said. He had his own ideas, but the general knew — or was supposed to know — more about such things than he did.

Hirundo stroked his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. "Well, I can't say for certain, mind," he warned, and Grus and Pterocles both nodded. Hirundo pointed east. "If I were in charge of the Menteshe, that's where I'd put them. They can strike at our flank from a position like that, do us a lot of harm."

"Why not the other flank?" Pterocles pointed west.

"Well, they could," Hirundo said, "but that's not how I'd do it. The ground is better the other way. They'd be coming downhill at us — do you see? — not trying to climb. It makes a difference."

"I suppose it would." Pterocles plainly didn't see how.

Patient as a father teaching his son to swim, Hirundo said, "You want to have the ground with you if you can. Either mounted or on foot, a charge uphill is harder than the other kind. Arrows don't go as far when you're shooting them up a slope, either."

"Oh." Pterocles nodded, perhaps in wisdom. "All right."

Grus, who agreed with his general, set a hand on the wizard's shoulder. "Every trade has its tricks and its secrets. Hirundo and I wouldn't have any idea what to do if we needed to cast a spell, but we've tried to learn a thing or two about soldiering."

"All right," Pterocles said again. "I'll take your word for it, then, and I'll stick to things I know a little something about myself." He took from his belt pouch an amulet made from a brown, shiny stone pierced and penetrated by a duller, darker one. "Chalcedony and emery," the wizard explained. "Together, they are proof against all manner of fantastical illusions."

"Good," Grus said. "But don't use them yet." Pterocles, who had clutched the amulet and was about to start a spell, stopped in surprise. The king went on, "If you find there are trees there and the Menteshe are lurking in among them, or something like that, you ought to be able to make them sorry they ever decided to try to attack us."

"I can try," Pterocles said doubtfully.

Hirundo snapped his fingers. "What about that spell you used against the Chernagor ships that were trying to bring grain into Nishevatz? You know — the one where you set them on fire when they were still out on the ocean. If they're hiding in a forest or an olive grove, say, you could roast 'em easy as you please."

"If roasting them were as easy as you make it sound, I wouldn't have any trouble — that's true enough." Now Pterocles' voice was tart. He rummaged some more in his belt pouch, and finally pulled out a clear disk of rock crystal thicker at the center than the edges. "I can try that spell, anyhow," he said. "One thing's sure — the sun is stronger here than it was up in the Chernagor country. I'll need some greenery — with luck, some twigs torn from trees — to work the spell if I turn out to need it."

Grus sent some of his guardsmen off. They came back with olive branches, twigs from almond trees, and fragrant orange and lemon boughs. No doubt the thralls who watched them would be puzzled — if puzzlement could soak into the sorry wits of thralls. When Pterocles had the greenery piled in front of his feet, Grus said, "Now, if you please."

"Certainly, Your Majesty." The wizard had a knack for being most exasperating when he was most polite. He gave a bow that struck Grus as more sardonic than sincere, then clutched the amulet in his left hand and looked east and south. He pointed in that direction with his right forefinger. Grus wished he hadn't; any watching Menteshe would get a good idea of what he was doing. But maybe there was no help for it. The king kept quiet.