onted, instead by a duel to the death with Retoc, the best
swordsman of all Tarth. To flee would mean cowardice. The army would
then be loyal to you, majesty. To remain and fight would mean only one
thing."

"Death," said Volna softly.

She could hear the legions. The legions seemed to chant in her ears:
"All power to Volna the Beautiful!"

She thought of the day's funeral games. Games for the memory of Jlomec
the Prince, indeed. They were games for her, for Volna. They would be
a party celebrating the rise to power of Volna, Virgin Princess of
Nadia. But of course neither Nadia nor Bontarc its rightful ruler knew
that yet. And when they did, Retoc and his legions would make sure
they could do nothing about it.

The Games would be a feast. Volna's feast....

_All power to Volna._

* * * * *

The Kranuian Boar came screaming from the forest.

Its small, close-set eyes found Bram at once. If it had seen Bylanus
and Ylia, it ignored them. Four hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, it
made, stomping and pawing, for Bram.

He side-stepped nimbly, saw the massive head go down, felt one of the
wicked tusks brush his thigh with fire. He stumbled and almost fell.
If he fell, he would not rise again. The boar would finish him first.

"Bram Forest!" Ylia screamed.

He got up and grasped the tusks. He was dragged along, furrowing the
ground. The huge head snorted close to his own. The boar's breath
almost made him gag. Then, before the boar could smash him into a
tree-trunk, he let go and rolled over and over and quickly stood up.

The boar did not wait for him to regain his breath, but came charging
at once. This time Bram Forest waited until the last possible instant
before the tusks would impale him. Then he leaped, twisting around in
air. It was a prodigious leap and brought a word of exclamation even
to Bylanus' lips. He landed on the hard-muscled back of the boar and
at once clamped his knees firmly against its sinewy flanks as if he
had been trained all his life for this job.

The boar reared and bucked and swung its great body from side to side,
trying to dislodge its tormentor. But Bram Forest clung as if all
Tarth depended on the outcome of this contest--as, perhaps, it did.

The boar ducked its head. Bram Forest fell forward, but his knees
locked. The boar rolled over, but moving so swiftly that the eye could
hardly follow him, Bram Forest squirmed out from under and was seat