In the days that followed Tushratta's visit, Esarhaddon felt his strength and vigor gradually begin to return. Every morning and evening, he faithfully drank the hîlnlîmp tea which the healer provided. He found that the draught had the most peculiar – and delightful – quality of chasing away the gloom of melancholy with feelings of warmth and comfort. The aroma somehow reminded him of childhoods spent in Harad, returning home in the quiet of the evening after playing with his cousins all afternoon, the intoxicating fragrance of the jasmine bushes which grew alongside the house welcoming him back as his mother met him and took him into her embrace.

Although Esarhaddon's sleep was still troubled by the occasional nightmare, much of his exhaustion had dissipated. With his heart and mind now free, he began to plan in earnest for the upcoming celebration which would commemorate the birth of his youngest son. Even though his hands and legs were deformed, Mindin was a healthy baby otherwise, smiling at everyone and showing curiosity in his surroundings. Anúrnissa doted upon her son, cradling him in her arms and singing him lullabies in the language of her people.

Esarhaddon proclaimed that a grand hunt would be held upon the 19th day of October, a month and a fortnight after Mindin's arrival into the world. The celebrations would continue throughout the day, with a lavish feast featuring much music and dancing being held that night. Lords throughout the province and elders of the village, along with Esarhaddon's brother and close friends, had been invited to the lavish affair. Even though the festivities were to celebrate the birth of his son, Esarhaddon wanted to impress his wealthy and powerful guests, the most important of which would be Governor Veryatur of the Western Province.

Abaru was glad that his father's health was improving, and that he felt well enough to resume command of his household. He had been so worried these past few weeks, living each day in dread that he would receive tidings that his father's condition had taken a turn for the worse. Perhaps he worried too much, but he could not help himself. Even though he was only fourteen, Abaru had suffered through three major deaths so far. When he was six, his older sister Uzalla died after falling grievously ill from the Red Plague; when he was seven, his mother succumbed to infection after a long battle with tumors of the breast; when he was thirteen, his aunt Kulianna perished after giving birth to a stillborn babe. He did not want to lose his father as well.

When Abaru had learned that his new brother was born with significant deformities in his limbs, he had been stricken with dread. He remembered the angry, disappointed tone in his father's voice when he had delivered the tidings that Mindin might never be able to walk. This was not the first time that the birth of a baby had brought sorrow rather than gladness; well did he remember the fate of his aunt's child. With memories of this tragedy fresh in his mind, Abaru had initially been hesitant to allow his heart to feel fondness for his new brother. After all, what if Mindin's afflictions were so severe that he perished in infancy and never even made it to his first birthday? Kabtu was too young and innocent to be burdened with such worries, and he visited Mindin whenever he could, often making a nuisance of himself. As the days passed, however, Abaru found himself warming towards his baby brother. He knew that Mindin would have a difficult life, and that it was his duty as older brother to protect and care for him.

The day before the festivities, Abaru returned home to his father's estate in the company of Shakh Sandana and his wife. Other close friends of the family began arriving late that afternoon, along with guests who had traveled great distances to reach the villa. Abaru was soon joined by his friend Cóldir, the son of an olive merchant whose holdings were north of Esarhaddon's manor. His family was descended from the small minority of Nurniags who had Gondorian ancestry. In ancient times, prior to the days of the Great Plague, there was a Gondorian presence in Nurn, guarding the land lest Sauron return unnoticed. Even after Gondor withdrew its dwindling forces back to its own borders, the Gondorian Nurniags stayed behind, for they had grown to love the land. While some of their descendants remained true to the traditions of their ancestors, others embraced the ways of the enemy, giving their loyalty first to the Nazgûl, and then to the Dark Lord Himself. Cóldir's family fell into the latter group, and over the years they had become prominent olive merchants, benefiting from the Mordorian regime.

Torthor, Cóldir's father, was the head of the Southern Merchants' Council of Nurn, and he and Esarhaddon encouraged friendship between their sons. When Cóldir had been a little boy, Esarhaddon had invited Torthor to send his young son to live at the villa for a few years so that he could be a companion to his own son. This was a rural area of Nurn, and there were great distances between estates. Children of nobles and wealthy merchants had little opportunity to meet children of their own age who were not relatives or farm laborers, and friendships between families were considered a valuable asset to all involved. The children had much to gain from the practice, because not only did they make valuable lifelong friends, but they also received a more diverse education and training in various skills.

The sun had not yet broken the rim of the eastern horizon on the morning of October 19th when Abaru rose from his bed and began preparing for the big day. He and Cóldir had talked long into the night, for it had been some time since they had last seen each other, and much had transpired in their respective households. Even though Abaru had slept very little, he was not tired, for anticipation kept him awake.

Shortly after Abaru and Cóldir had risen, Kabtu came running into their room, filled to the brim with excitement about the celebration. His excitement soon turned into whining, however, for he was not allowed the same privileges as his older brother.

"Abaru, maybe if you talked to Father, you could persuade him to allow me to go on the hunt," Kabtu begged.

"I already told you that it will not do any good. He says that you are too young, and I have to agree with him." Abaru walked to the window and pulled back the drape. There was not much to see in the soft, pale light of the pre-dawn twilight, but he could hear the early morning songs of birds in the trees in the small courtyard below.

"I do not see why I cannot go. I am old enough and I would not be any trouble!" Kabtu was close to crying, but he was determined to hold back the tears. He did not want to be embarrassed in front of his older brother or his brother's friend. "You could talk him into it, Abaru. Father listens to you sometimes."

"Not this time, because I am not even going to try. We have been over this before." Abaru turned from the window and shot his brother an irritated glance. He thought about tossing the little weevil off the balcony, but decided that was not a good idea. "Now be quiet on this matter, or get out of my room!"

"Fine! I will go!" The little boy stomped out of the room, frantically blinking back tears.

"He is as irritating as a cinder in the eye!" Abaru exclaimed, looking to Cóldir, who had been quietly sitting all that time on the divan. He walked over and sat down beside him, took an apple from a tray on the table, and bit noisily into it.

"Little brothers can be that way," Cóldir told him. "I have three of them at home, and I should know!"

"You would think he would realize that while hunts can be hugely exciting, they can also be very dangerous." Abaru slowly chewed on the apple as he spoke. "They are no place for little boys like Kabtu. It would take two or three servants just to watch over him. No one would have any enjoyment, because we would all be attending him."

"He is far too young to go on a hunt." Cóldir shook his head. He looked at the tray of fruit and selected a pear. One thing he always liked about visiting Abaru was that there was almost always some festivity going on with food in abundance. "I want to thank you again for inviting me to the hunt and the feast tonight. You are a true friend." He wiped away a bit of juice that had started to run from the corner of his mouth.

"We are boon companions!" Abaru smiled and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "I want you by my side during this hunt. This will be the largest one of the year!"

"I look forward to it, Abaru. You know it will be my first hunt, since I was unable to attend any last year," Cóldir remarked, successfully hiding the nervousness he felt. He had been invited to a hunt the year before, but he had become ill and unable to attend. He worried that the same thing might happen again.

"That was much smaller, my friend, and would hardly compare to this one. My father has called for a big celebration, and a big celebration he will have," Abaru remarked enthusiastically. "Soon the beaters will be driving the wild beasts towards the hunting area. Couriers will be arriving constantly to tell of their progress." He set the apple core down on the table. Finally, by the time the boys' restlessness had reached a peak, they heard a knock at the door. It was a servant with the news that Esarhaddon and his guests had gathered in the great hall of the manor for breakfast; soon the hunt would begin.

Esarhaddon and his family were seated at the center of a long, low table which had been set up on a raised dais at the northern end of the great hall. Governor Veryatur and his son Hyrano; Torthor of the Southern Merchants' Council; and other high-ranking merchants and nobles were given the privilege of sharing the merchant's table, while the rest of the guests were seated around the hall. The sound of a gong being struck brought a sudden hush to the excited chatter of the crowd, and Esarhaddon raised his voice in a well-rehearsed speech of welcome. After thanking his guests for making the journey to the villa, he proclaimed that it was time for the celebration to commemorate the birth of his youngest son to begin.

Turning to Anúrnissa, he gently took the child from his mother's arms and held him to his chest. He looked down at the cooing infant for a moment, and then turned his gaze to the assembled crowd. "I am pleased to introduce the newest member of my household," he announced, paternal pride in his voice. "This is my son Mindin, who is being honored today with great feats of daring, a glorious feast with music and dance, and an abundance of other entertainments." A wry smile passed over Esarhaddon's face as the cheers of his audience rang in his ears. Would they be so willing to celebrate if they knew of Mindin's deformities? The babe was tightly wrapped and swathed in cloth so that no one could see his hands and feet. While Esarhaddon was not ashamed of his son, he knew that many people harbored backwards superstitions, and he was concerned that they might start spreading rumors that the child was cursed – or even worse, that he was cursed. It would be far better to keep Mindin's deformities secret for as long as possible. After the cheers of the crowd died down, Esarhaddon returned the squealing babe to Anúrnissa, who then delivered him to her maid for safe keeping.

Breakfast was a lavish affair, featuring almond honey cakes, herbed cheese, poached eggs with yogurt, flatbread topped with poppy and sesame seeds, and fresh fruit from the orchards. Upon every table were set bowls of nuts and dried figs, and the guests enjoyed refreshing fruit cordials sweetened with honey and flavored with aromatic spices. Under the watchful eyes of the servants of the house, the students of the School of Industry tended to every want and whim of the guests. For large celebrations such as these, Esarhaddon often utilized the ranks of the students to ease the burden upon the manor staff. It was also a way for the merchant to impress his guests with the beauty and skill of the slave maidens in his keeping, and further establish the school's reputation as an elite institution high in the esteem of the Tower.

At the conclusion of the meal, Esarhaddon led his guests from the dining hall and into the warm sunlight of the autumn morning. One of the great fields behind the villa had been turned into a campground for the merchant's friends and their entourages. Tents and pavilions spread out across the lush pastures, their many colors making a riotous pattern across the landscape. The gathering was joyous, and it was a happy pandemonium of sound as the guests and their families called and shouted to each other. The rich colors of the flowing robes of the men and the exquisite gowns of the women vied with each other for the attention of the eye.

Horses stamped their feet and snorted, shaking their heads and pawing their hooves. Abaru and Cóldir thought that the men and horses were a splendid sight, and seldom had they seen a finer group of horseflesh in all their young lives. Servants had spent hours polishing saddle leather, burnishing bits to a gray luster, and cleaning caparisons and other trappings. There were so many sights and sounds competing for the boys' attention that they did not know where to look next.

A nearby field had been reserved for a merchants' fair which featured wares from local tradesmen and artisans, and another area had been set aside for various athletic competitions. Music floated over the whinnying of horses, the shouts of people calling to one another, and the constant hum of conversation. Esarhaddon had employed a group of local musicians, who sat under a canopy and played their music. They were talented people, but they did not come cheap, a fact that bothered Esarhaddon considerably. But as much as it pained Esarhaddon to have to pay them, still it was expected of him to have musicians at a celebration marking the birth of his son. To do anything less would be improper. At least, he thought to himself, they had given him a fairly decent deal, agreeing to work all day at a reduced rate. He did, however, have to provide their food and overnight lodging, and from the looks of the drum player, the sweetness of the deal would be lost by the man's gluttony.

Abaru and Cóldir were not thinking of Esarhaddon's financial outlay. They were in too much awe and wonder at the pageantry before them. There was such food in abundance that the boys could hardly believe it. Not only had the guests been treated to breakfast inside the great manor, but Esarhaddon had servants set up tents that offered everything from fruit to cordials to grilled meats for any who needed to augment their already bountiful breakfast with a small something before they set out.

The two boys selected grilled mutton on sticks and ate it, licking the grease off their fingers as they walked among the tents of many colors. Cóldir smiled when a servant brought a basin and water for the boys to clean their hands.

"Listen to that, Abaru," Cóldir motioned to the musicians' pavilion. "Whoever is playing the dulcimer is an exceptional musician. I wish I knew how to play an instrument."

"Mmm, yes, he is," Abaru agreed. The playful melody teased his ears and delighted his senses, and he found himself nodding his head to the beat of the accompanying drum.

The boys listened to the music in silence for a few moments, and then their attention was drawn to a string of particularly handsome horses. They could tell by the standard which flew over the nearby tent that the horses belonged to the governor's son, young Lord Hyrano. The lord was reported not to have any more sense than a goose, but at least there was someone in his father's house who advised him on what was good horseflesh and what was not.

The sound of trumpets rang out, the signal that all those who wished to participate in the hunt should gather at the appointed starting point to receive instructions from the Master of the Hunt. While most of the hunters were men, a few adventurous women were among their number, including Shumeeren, who was an avid huntress. She was accompanied by several of her friends – wives and daughters of rich merchants and nobles. The boys scarcely gave Shumeeren and her companions a second glance, because they knew the First Wife had a foul temper. They skirted around the women as they walked to where the grooms waited with their horses.

The families and servants of those in the hunting party accompanied them to the starting point to cheer on their champions. Anúrnissa's tender heart and deep love of animals could never allow her to enjoy the sport of hunting, but she still smiled and waved to Esarhaddon and his sons as they embarked upon their quest. Goldwyn had considered participating in the hunt, but she had felt little motivation to leave her quarters that morning, and only did so because her presence was required at the event. Melancholia still held her in its shadowy embrace, though much of her helpless rage had been replaced by a numbness which spread through her heart and limbs like the chill of winter. She watched Esarhaddon and the other hunters make ready for the challenge which awaited them, caring little whether they achieved success or were met with failure.

The students of the School of Industry joined with the other members of Esarhaddon's household staff to raise the spirits of the hunters with shouts of encouragement and wishes for great bounty in the hunt. Many of the students sighed and tittered amongst themselves as they beheld the handsome young men who would be participating in the grand expedition. "Perhaps the son of a nobleman or wealthy merchant will be so smitten by me that he will choose me as his companion, and then I will live a life of ease and luxury," was the hopeful thought of many a maiden. If one were favored by fortune, it was possible to rise from the lowly estate of slavery to the lofty ranks of the nobility. Of course, it was more likely that most of the students would end up as menial servants or entertainers, but there was always the potential of advancement, if one were lucky, clever, or devious enough.

As he waited for the hunt to begin, Abaru looked around at the throng of excited spectators who had gathered in the field, surveying the crowd for familiar faces. While he was acquainted with some of his father's friends and their families, there were many guests whom he did not know. He turned his attention to the students from the school, admiring their beauty and grace. His gaze fell upon Elfhild and Elffled, and he marveled at how ethereal they looked in the soft glow of early morning, the golden tresses of their hair illuminated by the sunlight. He thought about waving to them, but then reconsidered, for such an outward show of friendliness towards low-ranking slaves would be considered improper for a youth of his station. Instead, he merely nodded in acknowledgement of their presence and looked to another spot in the crowd. Once again, he heard the distant melody of the dulcimer, as mellow and refreshing to his ears as a cool drink of water.

With the hunt underway, the crowd made their way back to the field of the pavilions. There were plenty of activities which did not involve killing animals for sport, such as the merchants' fair, and the sparring matches which pitted athletes against each other in feats of strength and skill. Inside the manor house, Anúrnissa had organized a variety of entertainment for the women: musical performances in which the guests were encouraged to sing along; social dances and choreographed presentations by the school dance troupe; and several skits which would be performed by the theatre class.

After so many days of sickness and woe, the villa was finally a place of life and activity once again.

Far in the distance, Abaru and Cóldir could hear the shouts of the beaters and the throbbing of the drums. Their horses had caught wind of some game on the breeze, and they whinnied nervously, pawing their hooves.

"Cóldir!" Abaru motioned with his hand. "From the direction of the noise, my father's men have driven the game from the woods. They will soon be heading this way. Are you ready?"

"Yes, of course, I am ready. Why did you think I would not be?" Cóldir tried to make his voice sound calm and assured, but he was nervous. Who knew what sort of creature might be lurking in that forest? After all, they were not that far from the Thraqum Wood.

"I was only making certain. After all, this is your first hunt," Abaru replied, his mouth curled in a smug smile as though he were a seasoned hunter of many years.

"Look over there!" Eager to change the subject from himself, Cóldir gestured with a nod of his head in the direction of a group of handsomely dressed hunters. It was Lord Hyrano and his retinue. Both boys resented the young lord and his arrogant ways.

"Oh, yes." Abaru's tone was contemptuous. "He has brought that great beast of his, the one that is trained as a warhorse. I am surprised he did not have it covered in armor."

"He knew armor would slow it down even more. His master of the horse would have advised him on that." Cóldir was glad that he could contribute that information to the conversation. He knew so little about hunting that he felt ill at ease.

"Not much faster than a plow horse," Abaru chuckled. "My father's mare could run circles around him!"

Both boys noticed that Lord Hyrano and his friends must have heard them talking, because they were looking at them. The governor's son gave a loud laugh and spurred his horse forward, with his friends following behind.

"Does your father know you are out here, Abaru?" Lord Hyrano asked haughtily. "Or have you run away from your nursemaid?" That remark drew a raucous chorus of laughter from his comrades.

"Of course he knows I am here!" Abaru replied, none-too-pleasantly, forgetting to give the customary bow in his irritation. "And what business is it of yours?" the young boy added, losing his composure at Hyrano's taunting.

"What a dear child!" Lord Hyrano threw back his head, a high-pitched sound which resembled the whinnying of a horse or braying of a jackass rolling from his too-full, flabby red mouth. The young man might have been pleasant looking, but his thin eyebrows were almost constantly arched in a disbelieving expression. Lord Hyrano was a thin, lanky man, so skinny in fact that one would have wondered if he suffered from worms. His eyes were set too close together over a long, protruding nose as sharp as a carpenter's square, and his mouth was open in foolish laughter far too much, showing his large, horse-like teeth. Too many hours spent over the wine cup drinking with his friends had left him with dark circles under his pig-like gray eyes. Abaru had come to hate him, for ever since he had been a child, he had been the victim of Lord Hyrano's insults.

"My lords," Lord Hyrano turned to look at the young men about him, his compatriots in all sorts of mischief, "what should be done to children who are naughty and insolent?"

"They should be sent to the mines," one of the men laughed menacingly.

Abaru gulped. The very mention of the mines of Mordor was enough to make the blood run cold. That was where criminals, runaway slaves, traitors, prisoners of war, and political dissidents were sent to die, or, as the grown-ups often called it, to "pay off their debt to Mordor through hard work and industry." Usually these prisoners paid their debts with their lives, for few ever returned from the mines. It would be a horrible fate to be forced to labor in the mines, for the work was grueling, the overseers were cruel, and it was said that the deepest vaults were the dwelling places of demons and creatures too strange and unnatural even to be described...

"You cannot do that!" Abaru sputtered. "I am the son of a highly respected merchant!"

"We cannot?" Hyrano's friend challenged, riding his mount closer to Abaru. "Lord Hyrano is the son of the governor, and he can do pretty much what he wants to little brats like you!" The other men laughed, but this time there was no humor in it.

An uneasy silence fell over the group as Lord Hyrano's friends and guards waited for his orders. Abaru still had a defiant expression on his face, but his resolve was rapidly fading. He remembered something that someone had told him one time, that the mine overseers liked to use children to go into the lowest, smallest shafts where adults could not venture. Though their small bodies made them ideal to squeeze through tight places, they faced terrors that were unknown to grown men. Stories abounded about the creatures which lived beneath the surface, deep within the foundations of the earth. Sometimes lifeless bodies of children had been found, all the juices drained out of them by some unknown lifeform. Other young miners had been discovered in deep caverns far under the surface of the earth, their skin marked with strange circular lacerations, as though some giant creature with tentacles had embraced them in a death grip. A few strange cases had no evidence of any violence at all, but the bodies of the victims were covered with a phosphorescent green slime which was contagious to anyone who touched them. Those were the most frightening cases of all, for the slime spread disease and whole camps would become infected. Those shafts were always sealed to prevent the contagion from spreading, and the victims were left to lie there for all eternity.

"Abaru, we are in this together," Cóldir whispered through gritted teeth. He had been clenching the hilt of his unsheathed sword for so long that his knuckles had turned white. He had practiced for years with Abaru and his instructors, but he was uncertain if he could even use a sword if he were put to it.

"Are you boys having a good time?" a loud voice thundered out, causing all to turn and look behind them. The speaker was a big man, dressed in rich brocaded garments, a style reflecting a mixture of East and West. Despite the heat of the day, he wore a mantle trimmed in fox fur around his shoulders. Upon his head was a circlet, a mark of his position, and his fingers dripped with rings.

"Yes, my father," Lord Hyrano smiled. "My little friends and I are having a very good time discussing the hunt."

"That is well, my son." The governor shot his son a gold-toothed smile. "Young men can always be an inspiration and example to children." He turned to look at Abaru and Cóldir. "Give my regards to your father, Abaru. Tell him that I am looking forward to the feast tonight."

"Thank you, Lord Governor Veryatur. I will tell him." Abaru bowed so low that he felt that his head might fall off and crash to the ground. Beside him, Cóldir's body relaxed, and he released the death grip he had held on his sword hilt.

"Listen! The horns!" The governor raised his head, squinting in the direction of the trumpet blast. "The hunt is calling, boys, and we must answer!" He smiled, completely unaware of the vicious taunting that the young boys had endured at the hands of his sons and his friends. He nodded to the young men and boys and then spurred his horse and galloped away with his entourage in the direction of the trumpets. His son and his friends were close behind. Even though Hyrano and his rowdies had been silenced by the arrival of Governor Veryatur, they were still laughing at Abaru's distress as they rode away.

"Do you really think he would have sent us to the mines?" Cóldir asked cautiously, riding close enough to his friend so that he could hear.

"Oh, yes." Abaru nodded his head. "If he had an excuse, he would do it out of pure meanness. He might be a grown man, but he has always been a bully. He is afraid to tangle with men his own age because he knows he would be bested. He chooses his victims from those who cannot stand up against him."

"I am glad his father is not that way." Cóldir took a deep, relieved breath.

"Let us not talk about either one of them. The hunt grows ever closer, and I want to enjoy it!" Abaru replied, his eyes following the flight of a bird which had been frightened out of the forest.

Esarhaddon's servants had been assigned to drive the game, and they shouted, whooped, pounded spears upon shields, beat drums, and made all the noise they could to scare the game out of cover. As the circle drew ever tighter, the animals caught in the circle of slaughter ran aimlessly in terror, sometimes careening into each other.

Caught up in the excitement, Abaru and Cóldir followed the hunt. They watched one of the hunters launch an arrow that brought down a large stag. Scarcely had he slit its throat when servants raced up, gutted the animal, tied its hind legs together and hoisted it up on the branch of a tree. There the slain animal was left until there was an opportunity for servants to come back for it later. Another servant credited the kill in a ledger.

They heard loud shouting up ahead of them, and they raced towards the sound, wondering what sort of creature had been flushed from the scrub land. Before they ever reached the scene, their horses must have winded something alarming, for they were nervous, whinnying and sniffing the air. Abaru's horse was almost completely out of control, and it was all that he could do to make it go forward.

"By the inestimable hairs on Melkor's balls! What is that thing?!" one of the men cried in alarm.

Abaru and Cóldir stared in astonishment as a coal black boar of tremendous size charged from the underbrush. The beast had an evil look about it, and the very sight of the creature struck fear into the hearts of the hunters. The boar was much larger than any they had ever seen. Its head was as big as a barrel, and foam dripped from its tusks, which were like thick iron stakes. It was a strange beast, and rare for those parts, but the strangest thing about it was the boar's small red eyes. Its expression was more like that of a man than it was a beast.

"The thing must have come from the Thraqum Wood," Abaru whispered. He reined in his horse, speaking soothingly to the animal as he stroked its neck.

Whatever the beast's origins, it was in a dangerous rage, and no wonder, for a spear was protruding from one of its shoulders. The beast reached back and tore at it with his tusks. The Master of the Hunt spurred his horse into a canter and raised his spear as he rode towards the animal. He hurled the weapon, but it missed the boar by only inches. The beast looked up and shook his head, then lowered it in a charge, driving the man's horse into a panic. A servant handed him another spear, but the Master of the Hunt's horse was close to bolting, trembling, its eyes wild and trembling with fear. The Master of the Hunt laughed, spurred the horse forward towards the hog, and his spear stabbed through the beast's ear. The hog dodged and ran under his horse, causing the beast to rear into the air. When it came back down, it gave a terrified snort and ran away.

Lord Hyrano and his comrades were watching the unsuccessful attempts at slaying the pig, laughing and passing a wine flask amongst themselves. The young lord smiled at his friends as he took a spear from a servant and tested its weight in his hand. "I feel sorry for Esarhaddon's Master of the Hunt. The poor man was doing his best, but sometimes the best is not enough. Perhaps age is creeping up on him. This is a matter for young men, not old beards!" Lord Hyrano laughed and spurred his horse towards the boar, who was rapidly running away. The young man's powerful thrust sent the spear soaring through the air, catching the boar in a rear haunch. The beast bellowed in agony and rage as its flesh felt the jolt of the metal tip embedding itself into its hip.

Even with a spear buried in its leathery skin, the great beast barely slowed as it raced across the plain. Turning its head, the boar snapped the shaft clean in two, and then it glared at Lord Hyrano, lowered its head and charged. The pig was too agile and quick for the great war steed to escape, and it ran between the horse's legs, then turned, lifting up its head and goring the destrier in its belly. The horse went down in a thrashing mass of blood and trailing intestines, its rider thrown into a nearby bush. Lord Hyrano cursed and screamed for help as his servants and friends tried to beat the hog away from him. They finally drove the beast away but not before they were thoroughly bloodied and bruised. Driven by the massive panic of the hunt, deer and other animals still raced and streamed by them, but the hunters had lost their keenness for the sport. Now their only desire was to keep out of the way of the maddened boar.

The bravest of the group still tried their luck with the spear. A merchant from Turkûrzgoi managed to wound the beast, and another huntsman caught the boar in the left shoulder with a spear, but still the animal raged and bellowed as though it were rabid. It seemed that no matter how many spears struck at the boar, the creature's tough hide deflected most of the damage. Any other boar would have been dead by now, and many of the men began to shake their heads and wondered if this was no ordinary pig but a demon.

Finally it seemed that the boar had had enough. Dripping black blood which sizzled as it hit the dusty earth, the injured boar raced towards the Thraqum Wood. It seemed that the shadows beneath the trees reached out to claim one of the forest's own. Spears followed the creature as it raced away, but none of the weapons pierced the leathery hide.

"Fell and evil magic," one of the men muttered, making a sign against evil.

All of the heart was gone out of the men, and they milled around as servants prepared litters for the wounded. As they loaded Lord Hyrano in a wain, he bemoaned his many bruises and the loss of his fine war horse. He was lucky, though, that he was still alive.

The hunt continued without him, though in the confusion, many of the beasts had broken through the circle and raced away. Still, though, the final count was great, with many deer being carried in from the field.