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.
It nearly had him the next moment, as a fallen branch caught his foot for just a split-second. The thing lunged, but as it did so another spear flew through the air and struck it on its wounded shoulder. The weapon bounced harmlessly off, but it saved Gord's life. Gellor had come back.
'Gellor, stay back!' Gord shouted urgently to the bard. 'It is a devil-pig, just as the villagers claimed!'
The one-eyed man had removed his eyepatch, Gord noted, and his long-bladed sword was in hand. 'I see it, Gord,' the bard said loudly. 'It is a small and stinking little thing hiding within that great blubbery body!'
Gord jabbed and struck home on the distracted creature, and it gave a bellowing squeal of pain at the attack. The spear had bitten deeply into the rakshasa's jowl, slicing the skin there in such a manner as to reveal its teeth where its flesh had been cut away. That was sufficient to make it completely ignore the newcomer and concentrate all of its savagery on Gord. It came at a trot, and there was nowhere for the young thief to go this time. Praying, he placed the butt of his weapon against the ground, pointing its tip at the monster's heart, bracing himself as he did so. Gellor did his best to divert the rakshasa. He ran forward, sword extended for use as a spear, and yelling mightily as he came. This failed to make the monster waver.
With a squealing that spewed bloody drops ahead of its charge, the devil-boar came forward in an instant. The sound it made as the rigid spear struck its chest and drove into its body was more terrible than any the bard had ever heard. Just as a true boar filled with killing lust would have done, this creature came forward, disregarding the spear that had mortally wounded it. Its charge carried it to where Gord stood, and the tusks and teeth tore through chest and throat in a welter of fountaining blood. The spear went through the monster's whole body — heart, innards, all. As it killed the man before it, the thing itself died.
The horror of the scene froze Gellor for a second, and as he stood transfixed, the rakshasa seemed to deflate. Black blood poured from mouth and wounds as its legs stiffened and kicked in death. The spear was protruding from its chest and rear, but of the man it had just killed so horribly, there was no trace save a pool of red.
Chapter 32
The demon Kostchtchie, a most powerful if despised lord of the Abyss, offered alliance to both Graz'zt and Yeenoghu, the demon lord of gnolls. This triumvirate, together with the dozen lesser beings who had made common cause prior to this pact, now held sway over fully sixty-six layers of the place. Certain other powerful demons of great stature supported the alliance, sending their servants and soldiers to the three.
A gate was opened between Oerth and the world where giants ruled. Bands of mighty hill, mountain, and frost giants roamed from the Howling Hills southward. Before them they drove the regiments of ores and hobgoblins who had sought to hold the land for the Hierarchs. These troops fled into the Fellreev or away into the open steppes, where the Rovers of the Barrens allowed them no mercy. Some took service with the kinglets of the bandit states to the east, for much of this territory had been freed of the grip of the Hierarchs but recently, and even
