Etruscans by Morgan Llywelyn Page A

it angrily from side to side. Pepan blinked at the wash of foul air the beast exuded. Patches of the boar’s flesh sloughed off with its violent movements. The Lord of the Rasne discovered that the film of grease and hair on his hands was composed of decomposing flesh. As he watched in horror, a flap of skin on the boar’s jaw dissolved into stringy pulp, clinging to the bone by a viscous thread. Teeth gleamed yellow in the gap.

    â€œWalk away,” Pepan said over his shoulder. He kept his eyes fixed on the beast, not daring to turn and look at the women.
    â€œWe can’t,” gasped Repana. “Vesi can go no farther.”
    â€œThen drag her! Wrap her hair around your hands and drag her to the lake. Wade out into the water; the boar will not follow you there. Even if it does,” he added grimly, “I think the rest of its flesh would fall away at the touch of clean water.”
    Still Repana hesitated. “Did the Uni Ati send this thing after us, Pepan?”
    â€œEven the Uni Ati cannot work such magic. This creature is possessed. Now go!” He heard Vesi moan and risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Repana was trying to maneuver her daughter onto her feet, but the girl resisted.
    In that moment the boar gathered itself and charged again.
    A terrific blow to the belly forced the air from Pepan’s body, doubling him over, sending him sliding on the damp earth. He staggered to his feet with his hands pressed to his stomach. Repana was screaming behind him and there was a deeper, inner roaring as blood surged in his ears. When he tried to straighten up the pain was excruciating.
    The boar was directly in front of him. Its grotesque head swayed from side to side as more gobbets of flesh fell away. The skull beneath was stark in the fading light. There was blood on the grass and blood on the creature’s muzzle. For an instant Pepan thought he had injured the monster … until he realized the blood was his own.
    The boar’s tusks had torn a ragged hole through his tunic and the skin beneath. Probing with his fingertips, he felt rib bones grate together. When he lifted his hand to his face, his palms were dark with gore.
    He knew all too well the signs of fatal injury. So he would die. He was not afraid. Even if his ancestors were
not summoned for him, even if he were not guided to safety in the Netherworld, he had faith in his own ability to cope. His hia would survive.
    The boar took a shaky step forward. Pepan distinctly heard a bone snap in its body and it lurched sideways. Its left hind leg was now dragging.
    The Lord of the Rasne felt a surge of hope. If only he could keep the beast at bay for a few more moments, accelerated putrefaction would render the creature harmless. All he had to do was to keep it away from the women until it collapsed.
    The boar staggered forward, enveloping Pepan in its nauseating miasma. Its jaws gaped, baring the cruel tusks.
    At that moment a hand fell on his shoulder. He looked around to find Repana standing beside him, holding his hunting spear. “Go now,” he urged her. He was shocked to find his voice so weak; shocked too at the black wall of pain that was slowly enveloping him. “Run before it charges again.”
    â€œI will not leave you.” The big woman planted the spear solidly on the ground before Pepan with its triangular head facing the boar.
    â€œYou must. My wound is fatal.”
    â€œWe will stand together,” Repana vowed grimly.
    The crippled boar lunged … straight onto the spearhead, which entered the animal’s throat and erupted between the shoulder blades. The crossbar set onto the shaft should have prevented the boar from charging up the shaft to attack the hunter, but the beast’s disintegrating flesh simply flowed around the obstacle.
    In less than a heartbeat it was upon them.
    Releasing Repana’s hand, Pepan threw himself into the boar’s gaping maw.

NINE
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