The brawny hillman was disappointed at his comrade's response to the entreaties of the two. "Come now," he admonished Gord. "This is not the way to repay the loyalty of these lads! Of course you can remain with us, boys," he said to the two.
Happy and satisfied, the pair rolled up for sleep, and the men soon took their example. If they were to make Tusham on the morrow, they would have to start early and keep up a good pace.
They had not gone far the next morning when the horses began to behave abnormally. The animals began snorting and rolling their eyes nervously, and it was difficult to keep them from bolting. Thus alerted, the three men loosened their weapons and sought signs of some beast or enemy that might be near, but there were none to be seen.
"This is odd," Gellor said. "I'd have sworn that the animals scented something, but there is no sound nor trace of any predator or lurking humanoid."
"They certainly act as if they smell something most dire," Chert said. "My nose is keen enough, but I scent nothing. Gord, if you used that cat's nose of yours…"
"Not this time!" the young thief said to his later regret. "I'll not be taking a different shape before an audience of gaping churls!" Gellor almost used his own power to take animal form himself so as to see what made the steeds so uneasy, but there was no time, for even as he contemplated it, ail three horses bolted. Thatch and Shadow were riding while Gord and Chert walked. They had just switched, and the animals seemed to have calmed somewhat. Then, without any warning, they took to galloping. The bard had no choice but to try to regain control of his horse, then catch those of the lads and rein them in as well. In seconds he was out of sight, and the two young adventurers were left standing in startled uncertainty. This, in turn, was shattered by a horrible sound that came rushing toward them from the woods nearby.
"Boar!" Chert roared in warning, lowering his spear as he said it.
There was a crashing, and a bristling form rushed toward them. The thing was larger than a wisent and had tusks as long as a man's forearm! Its rush bowled over a sapling, and the earth shook under the impact of its huge, cloven hooves. Gord had time to think that a boar larger than an auroch was impossible – and then it was upon them.
Chert's aim was true, but the point of his spear barely scraped the creature's chest. There was a loud report as the spear shaft splintered, and then the animal was past. The barbarian had been knocked backward by the onslaught, and he lay stunned and bleeding against the base of a tree.
As the monstrous boar rushed upon him, Gord had sprung aside, jabbing it automatically with the spear he had gained from the enemy. The metal of the weapon was enchanted, but it only tore a shallow gash along the creature's flank as it went past. That was sufficient to make it bellow in rage.-The huge swine weighed a ton and more, Gord guessed, yet it stopped its mad charge and turned more quickly than the young thief would have imagined possible. Then it paused for a second, its little eyes glowing with both rage and a cunning that was more disturbing than its fearful tusks and impossible bulk. Gord shuddered but kept the magical spear aimed squarely at the monster's head.
"Come on, pig! I have steel for you to eat."
The boar shook its barrel-sized head, sending a spray of foam flying. The huge mouth opened… and the thing spoke!
"That twig you wave so bravely will serve only to pin your own ass, manling," it snarled, and with that it came again.
The thing went from stillness to full charge in a step, and it was all Gord could manage to leap out of its path and avoid the razor-edged tusks with which it meant to cut him to pieces. He was unhurt, but there had been no chance to so much as take a poke at the monster with his spear.
The boar-thing had halted its rush again and stood with its terrible little eyes locked on Gord. "It is good to have a test," it said in its thick, grunting voice. "I had thought never to find one of you as agile as a monkey," and it laughed a slobbering, squealing laugh that made Gord's blood run cold. Sensing an advantage, the devil-boar rushed again at that very moment. Its charge caught Gord this time, one tusk leaving a bloody trail across his chest and arm as it went past. It whirled and tried again, but this time Gord was too quick, and the monstrous thing thundered past harmlessly.
There was no chance to strike it, but now Gord was beginning to time the thing's rushes. The gigantic boar watched him again, running its prehensile tongue over its one bloody tusk while it did so.
"Yes," it said as much to itself as to Gord, "I will drink all of your blood, little man, before I devour your flesh." There was more promise in the tone than threat.
That tongue belonged to no pig. "What are you, boar-thing? It is clear you are no swine, were-type or otherwise."
"You'll never tell it, but know that I am what humans call a rakshasa – not one of the weaklings which are so known to your ilk, but a true one of my kind. I am come from the Nine Hells to feast and bring woe to all here on this plane you call Oerth," it rumbled in its hideous voice.
Gord spat at it, striking it full in one of its mean fiery eyes. "I am happy to know that, pighead, for I have never killed one of your sort before!" He spoke with confidence he did not feel, and hoped that nothing betrayed the fear that was inside him.
The spittle and the taunting brought the monster rushing again, and this time Gord not only avoided its attack but stuck the spear well into its rear ham as it went past. This caused the devil-pig to emit another ear-hammering squeal. Now it gnashed its jaws hideously and slavered and foamed as it did so. Eyes fixed on the young man who stood before it with a gore-tipped spear, the thing advanced slowly. It needed no run to gut this puny opponent with its curved tusks.
There was a sound of angry hornets and a meaty thunking sound came at its conclusion. Chert, with his leg streaming blood and a great bump showing redly on his head, had regained consciousness and attacked while the monster's attention was fixed on Gord. His broad-bladed axe, Brool, was buried in the creature's bristling shoulder! The barbarian gave a heave, his hugely muscled arms straining to free the imbedded weapon. Incredibly, the rakshasa seemed to shrug the blow off. The axe came free, but Chert lost his grip as the boar-thing jerked toward him. Gord had no choice. If he did not distract the monster, it would tear his friend to pieces.
The devil-boar was intending to do just that. It spun on its splayed hooves and began its rush toward Chert. The barbarian was scrambling madly to retrieve his fallen axe, and he would never be able to get clear before the thing had him! Gord lunged, striking just behind the creature's massive rib-cage, hoping that the spear would sink into its lungs or heart. Despite this attack, the monster savaged Chert terribly before it turned total with the one who had dealt it such a wound.
"That brings your death," it rumbled through its bloody mouth. It was bleeding from its wounds, but it seemed no slower or weaker than before. It began to stalk Gord slowly, as if playing cat-and-mouse with the young adventurer.
Although his friend was unmoving, Gord doubted that the demon-boar had had time to finish the hardy barbarian with its terrible attack. Gord kept away from it, still taunting the thing and jabbing at its eyes with the spear. He knew he couldn't keep the game up much longer, however, for a single misstep and it would be upon him in a second. Gord wished he could somehow assume his leopard form – then he would show the blundering pig what a fight to the death was all about. It was impossible. He could certainly escape by vaulting into the trees, but that would allow the monster time to kill, even devour, Chert. Gord had to stand, man versus devil.