Jeff Crook - The Rose and the Skull

"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.

"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.