THE HUNTER VII

            The old man loved the sea, so he would not leave her, despite the rumors of great danger.

            He continued to fish in the deserted sea, because fishing was one of the only two things he had left in life. The only other was his grandson. His wife had died of fever two winters ago, and his two sons had been lost in a storm.

            He and his grandson were sailing home on their small boat. They had caught a huge swordfish and were contented with their days work.

            ‘Look at that wave!’ the boy shouted and pointed out to sea.

            It was the biggest wave that the old man had ever seen, and he had seen many waves. If he was not so brave, he would have been afraid.

            ‘How is there such a wave under a clear, calm sky?’ the old man asked himself.

            The wave was three hundred paces out to sea and it already towered above them. They braced themselves for the coming impact that would surely smash them against the shore.

            It did not come.

            Some thing else came instead.

            From out of the wave burst the dragon, it leapt into the air, flew above them and landed near the beach. Then it swam rapidly away along the shore.

            The old man’s boat was rocked in the turmoil that the dragon caused amid the sea, but it managed to stay afloat.

            ‘We are lucky,’ he told his grandson.   

            Refugees from the town of Portshead walked wearily north upon the highway. Men and women, young and old, trudged along together with their few possessions slung over their backs. Fathers held their wives or children by the hand, mothers carried their babies, old couple walked arm in arm, as they had done on happier days.

            They encountered two desperate looking travelers, coming from the opposite direction.

            ‘You, stranger, are going the wrong way,’ the leader of the refugees shouted to the two travelers.

            “No,’ said the oldest of the two travelers,’ we know where we are going. We have work to do in the west.’

            ‘There is nothing but destruction in the west,’ said the leader.

            ‘Destruction is our work,’ Raymond replied. ‘Where are you going?’

            ‘We must retreat to the towers of the Ogre Barons, only they have the strength to protect us.’

            ‘You ought to put your faith in the strength of men.’

            ‘The strength of men is lost, ever since the alliance of Men and Elves failed.’

            ‘The Elves are an old tale, grown tired, and best forgotten,’ Virgil stated.

            They parted on those words.