An Excerpt from SWAN KNIGHT’S SON
In which Gil utters his new battle cry:
For those of you who are puzzled, here is a fragment from the same chapter.
It was night. The two came out of the woods into an oversized parking lot. There were a weigh station, a diesel pump, and a cluster of diners and convenience stores gathered into a rough semicircle around the parking lot. Beyond that were trees with snow on their branches, and beyond them the square shadows of a long-abandoned railway station. Beyond the railway station Gil could see the town square of Blowing Rock. The shops and the courthouse had been decorated with giant snowflakes and neon candy canes. There was a giant pine tree in the square draped with colored lights, with an electric star on the highest bough. The star was taller than the tallest building there.
Gil said, “Seems really strange they would head into my hometown. Won’t someone see them?”
Ruff said, “They can hide themselves in a mist.”
“Can you find them?”
“Sure! Sure! Just watch me!”
Ruff went carefully around the parking lot once, twice, and then a third time.
He came slowly back, ears drooping and tail dragging. “Nothing. I lost him.” And Ruff hung his head.
Gil said, “I am not going home to my Mom and telling her my first day out as a knight errant was a bust! We got to think of something. Got to come up with an idea.”
Gil and Ruff stood in the snow among the parked trucks beneath a buzzing neon light. Gil said glumly, “I wish there was a squirrel or something I could ask which way they went. I don’t like the winter. All the birds stop talking. Animals hibernate. I am used to hearing voices.”
Ruff perked up, “Hey! Hey! I got an idea!”
“What?”
“You can talk! You! That way it won’t seem so quiet. Dogs like talking. Especially when you say good dog! Talking like that is best.”
“Great idea,” said Gil sarcastically.
Ruff’s ears drooped.
Gil sighed, seeing it was unfair to take out his bad mood on Ruff, so he scratched him behind the ears. “Good boy! Good dog!”
“See!” Exclaimed Ruff, his tongue lolling, “That was fun!”
Gil found himself grinning. “I guess it is fun.” Gil looked thoughtful. “Come to think of it, speaking of, um, speaking, I think I should say something when I yell like Bruno taught me. Like words. A battle cry.”
“How about ‘Go Hornets!’…?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the battle cry of your school you got kicked out of. You know, when you were expelled.”
“I don’t think I am legally allowed to use that any more.”
Ruff said, “How about ‘Merry Christmas!’ ?”
“I am not sure if that counts as a battle cry.”
“It is something I hear a lot of humans say about this time of year. Whoops!”
“What is it? What is it, boy?”
Ruff suddenly barked and looked excited, “Oh, no! Oh, no! I smell something elfish.”
“It is them?”
“No, but it is something!”
“Lead the way!” Gil took up his shield and followed the scampering black-and-white dog across the parking lot, his mail jingling as he jogged.
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
