John Dalmas - The Lion Returns

Then the boar answered. ‹I sensed a month ago that you were back. I was visiting the Scrub Coast, the ocean coast, reminding them of our existence. It is one of my duties. In this world, it is intended that humankind know a…› He paused, his mind tinged with amusement. ‹… know a larger reality than on Farside. And of course, I must maintain my myth; that is another duty.

‹And on my way back to meet you, I stopped to visit the King in Silver Mountain.›

"The dwarf king? They let you inside the mountain? I thought everyone was scared of you."

‹The dwarves do not fear us. A great boar befriended them in an earlier age. In the time of the high trolls, an experiment gone awry. You are not the only outsider they call dwarf friend.›

"When I knew you before, your eyes were black. Now…"

‹Now they are red. They make me more impressive, which makes you more impressive.›

"Me?"

‹You.›

Macurdy contemplated that a moment, then set it aside. "How are we going to travel together, with me riding Piglet?"

‹He will be all right now. Though you may want to leave him at Teklapori.›

"Teklapori? How did you know I was going there?"

‹Where else? When we leave there for the north-assuming you choose to-I can carry you. It will be a bigger public sensation if you ride on me.›

Macurdy laughed. "You got that right." He paused. "North together?"

‹If you so choose.›

"Why do you want to create a public sensation?"

‹A maximum of fame-suitable fame-will be useful to your task.›

"My task." Macurdy frowned. "What task?"

‹I do not know yet. But it will be important. Critical. You are already a legend in Yuulith; you've been heard of even on the Scrub Coast. But to many it is a legend of the past. We must renew and enhance it.›

Vulkan's comments had introverted Macurdy. Now he shrugged them off. He'd think about them when he knew more, he told himself.

So I've been heard of even on the Scrub Coast. Huh! And I never heard of the Scrub Coast till just now.

Unlike the winding dirt roads through Miskmehr, the Valley Highway was much used; they met merchants several times a day, typically traveling in small parties, with pack animals. And farmers traveling to some village or market town several times an hour. Seen from a little distance, Macurdy was readily recognizable as a man on horseback. The creature trotting alongside could be a mule, or from closer up, a lean beef, polled and slab-sided. By the time they were close enough to identify it, they were too near to escape, should it be necessary. And after all, it was trotting alongside a man on horseback.

Thus as fearsome and alarming as Vulkan looked, and as his myth described him, almost none of the travelers they met actually fled. They did, however, get well off the road to let him pass. The degree of control exercised by the giant boar's human companion seemed uncertain, and the large curved tusks looked more fearsome than any sword. While the small, indomitable red eyes, fixed coldly on the passersby, showed neither loving kindness nor docility.

Judging by the auras, the shock was greater for the traveler than for his horse or mule, if he had one. Probably, Macurdy thought, their animals didn't associate the smell of swine with danger. And despite Vulkan's size and fearsome appearance, his broadcast calm overrode their alarm.

Humans, on the other hand, had powerful imaginations. And folk tales-a whole gruesome mythology about the great boars. Nor did they fail to be awed by a man who kept company with such a monster.

There were villages along the road, and these were another matter. There, more often than not, people didn't see the great boar till he was close. Then doors were slammed and barred. Women shrieked, men cried out in alarm, children scurried howling out of sight. While dogs, seemingly less subject than horses to Vulkan's calming flow, scuttled off with their tails between their legs. As if they too had imaginations.

Neither Vulkan nor Macurdy qualified as chatty, but for the first few days they talked quite a lot. Macurdy related much of his recent seventeen years' experience on Farside, both civilian and military. Vulkan described Yuulith's geography, people and customs, particularly of regions unfamiliar to Macurdy.

One morning at a distance, Macurdy saw the inn at the crossroad near Gormin Town. He knew both inn and town; it was there he'd begun to seriously broaden his reputation, so many years past.

"You must be overdue for some actual food," he said to Vulkan. Even more than himself, the great boar had been relying on the Web of the World.

‹Mmm, yes. Those cattail patches we've stopped at have been useful, but I could benefit from variety. And protein. Some animal source would be particularly appropriate.›

"Tell you what," Macurdy said, "suppose we stop at the inn. I'll eat there, and afterward they'll tell everyone traveling through about us, travelers on the north-south road as well as the east-west. After that we'll ride into Gormin Town," he gestured toward a palisaded town-its population several thousand-a half mile south of the crossroad. "There's a butchers there, where I got offal for Blue Wing my first time through here. I suppose you eat offal?"

‹Offal will be quite satisfactory, yes. I can, of course, take some farmer's calf or pig, but offal will do nicely.›

As Piglet carried Macurdy into the inn yard, the stableboy hurried out to meet them. At sight of Vulkan, he disappeared back into the stable. Macurdy trotted Piglet over to it, and dismounting, led him inside. "Stableboy!" he bellowed.

"Yessir?" came a voice from the hayloft.

"Feed and water my horse. At once! Then groom him."

A tousled head appeared, of a youth in his early teens. "Your-horse, sir?"

"What else? Come now! Get about it!"

"Sir, I'm afraid, sir. Of-that other."

"He won't hurt you. I've told him not to. I'm Macurdy, back from Farside, and he's my traveling companion. His name is Vulkan."

The lad stood now, staring down. "Would you, sir… General? Marshal Macurdy? Would… would you ask him to stay outside, sir? I'm afraid he might forget what you told him."

Macurdy grinned disarmingly. "As good as done. Now come down and mind your duties."

The youth eased worriedly down the ladder and took Piglet's reins. Then Macurdy left, walking to the inn with Vulkan beside him. They entered the taproom as nearly together as the doorway allowed, Macurdy stepping in first, Vulkan a step behind. There was a scream from a serving girl, a clatter of mugs from a dropped tray, shouts of male alarm, the crash of benches falling over. Men scrambled to get more tables between them and the newcomers.

"Helloo!" Macurdy called. "Who will feed a hungry man?"

A florid beefy face peered from the kitchen door. "Get him to hell out of here!" it shouted, more angry than fearful.

Grinning, Macurdy turned. "Vulkan," he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "wait outside for me."

As if obeying, Vulkan turned and went outside, the only sound his hooves on the puncheon floor. But the move had nothing of submissiveness about it. Red eyes fierce, the great tusked face had scanned the room as he'd crossed to the door.

The innkeeper eased in from the kitchen. "Mister," he said, "that was a dumb-ass thing to do, bringing that beast in here."

Macurdy raised his eyebrows. This innkeeper was no ordinary man. "He's not a beast," Macurdy said, "he's a wizard. A giant boar and a wizard. And curious. He'd never been in a taproom before."

The innkeeper frowned. "How did you get him?"

"Get him? I didn't get him. We met in the woods once, in Oz. There I was, and there he was. Next thing we knew, we were friends. That was seventeen years ago, just before I went back to Farside. Then I came back to Yuulith again, and riding southeast out of Miskmehr, there he was, Vulkan himself, waiting by the road. Now we're traveling together."