Varian ignored the insults. “My quarry’s running hard. You can stay and blather all day if you like, but I’m moving on. I’ve a meal to catch.”
“Your quarry? You jest!” Genn sniffed at his opponent. “You think you can take him from me? Listen to me, Varian Wrynn! The curse more than heightened our senses. We see things that no normal human can. Some call you Lo’Gosh, though that they use a Taur-ahe title for you I find ironic. Still, it is but another name for Goldrinn, as we have come to know our patron spirit since our transformation. I saw the aura of that spirit around you the first moment you arrived at the banquet, and even though you gave every indication of crushing our hopes then, I still held out for our chances because I could see his touch upon you as if it were your own skin. . . .”
Although he showed no sign of it, Varian was briefly unnerved by Genn’s revelation. He had gratefully accepted the name when given to him, but had always thought it just an honor. Now Genn claimed that the wolf spirit’s essence or something touched Varian.
Ignorant of the effect of his words, the king of Gilneas went on, “But even if Goldrinn has blessed you, you’re still Varian Wrynn . . . and that’s why you stand as much a chance of taking my prey as you do lifting the Greymane Wall with your bare hands. . . .”
And with that, Genn Greymane rushed off after the boar.
Varian followed without hesitation. He saw that Genn had some advantage in speed, but if the king of Gilneas indeed thought his rival less adept at the hunt than the worgen, it was because he had not seen Varian in pursuit of prey. Instincts that no ordinary man possessed overtook the lord of Stormwind again. He smelled not only the scents of the worgen but, even through those many smells, that of the boar. Sharp hearing differentiated between the sleek, subtle sounds of the worgen moving through the forest and the more rushed charge of the huge animal they chased. Varian eyed the landscape before him, instantly understanding the lay of it. He altered his path from that of his rival and rushed toward the south, then turned again.
As he had estimated, the land rose up against Genn, slowing him a few precious seconds. Barely breathing hard, Varian scurried down the other side. He knew from so many past hunts that the boar would be in need of a pause, and he had a very good notion of roughly where.
An exhilaration filled Varian as he pursued the hunt, an exhilaration that had nothing to do with besting Genn. He felt more alive than he had in months. The pain of Anduin’s abrupt departure still remained, but the constant exertion, the need to keep his attention focused so hard on the quarry, enabled Varian to better tolerate the terrible loss.
He spotted a shape far ahead that was no worgen. The huge boar stood frozen, either hoping that its stillness would keep it hidden from the hunters, or simply finding itself unable to choose what to do next.
The boar suddenly moved.
Varian swore under his breath. The boar was racing up toward where Genn would likely appear. Somehow, Varian had spooked the creature even from so far away. It was not typical of his hunts, and to the younger king, now was the worst possible time for him to make such a mistake.
But Varian did not give in to defeat. He still had the chance to outwit his rival. More important, the bow gave him an advantage in distance, assuming that he utilized his skill to its utmost.
Varian rushed up behind the boar. Twice he almost had his shot. The second time, the boar turned in a direction that the veteran hunter had not expected. It forced the animal to scramble over unsteady ground, providing both pursuers a better chance of catching up.
Sure enough, a worgen materialized a moment later . . . but not on the path from which Varian expected Genn. It was one of the younger ones, a dark brown male with the tip of one ear missing. Evidently his own hunt had led him back this direction and now he stalked after prey that he did not know had been chosen by his master . . . and Varian.
The boar twisted as it struggled up a hill. The young worgen closed on the animal. Of Genn there was yet no sign, but Varian had to assume that he would be there at any moment.
He aimed. A good shot—a very good shot—would down the boar before the young worgen could catch it.
At that moment the boar turned on the worgen. Caught by surprise, the Gilnean did not move out of the way in time. The gargantuan boar used its tusks and snout to toss its one pursuer to the side. The worgen crashed against a tree, stunned by the collision.
The animal’s decision gave Varian the shot he desired. He aimed . . . and then held back. The boar chose then to turn and continue its flight.
“And this is how you hunt?” mocked Genn’s voice.
Varian turned to find the other king racing up to him. Behind Genn came several others, including Eadrik. The gathered worgen sniffed the air in the direction of the fleeing boar.
“Sometimes you need to let the prey run,” Varian replied.
“That makes no sense!”
The lord of Stormwind had no interest in explanations. “Shall we continue?”
Before Genn could answer, Varian ran again. He heard a growl from his rival, then the soft sound of the pack following. Varian was not concerned that the other worgen had joined in. He knew that they would leave the hunt to their lord. This was still a contest between the two rulers.
Varian picked up the boar’s trail. He admired the beast’s stamina and strength. In some fashion, he related to its struggle. Varian intended to honor his quarry and make certain that the carcass would not go to waste. That would be a true insult to an admirable adversary.
The boar rushed toward thick brush that possibly promised escape. Certainly it would be harder for either Varian or Genn to chase the animal into it without being slowed. The boar was better designed to push through.
Then from another direction came a new worgen. Belatedly, Varian recognized him as the young one with the missing ear tip.
The boar let out an unsettling snort. It fought to stop in its tracks. Caught by surprise, the young worgen landed in front of rather than atop his intended prey.
The boar charged back the way it had come, seemingly ignorant of the fact that it raced toward more of its pursuers. Another startled worgen leapt aside just as sharp tusks would have gored his leg. The light brown hunter landed on all fours and readied himself for another lunge.
Out of the thick brush behind him burst a bear.
The huge black beast stood on its hind legs and roared, revealing a maw wide enough to envelope a man’s head and sharp, yellowed teeth more than capable of ripping that head free. The bear loomed over the startled worgen, its long, thick claws more than a match for those of the Gilnean.
The wind was the reason that no one had picked up the other predator’s scent. It had been blowing toward the bear, which, perhaps because of its tremendous size, had not been deterred by the worgen’s presence. For the young, impetuous Gilnean, that meant that the hunter had now become the prey.
Instinct commanded Varian, who immediately fired. However, the bear turned as he did and the arrow struck the shoulder.
The wound more outraged the ursine beast than slowed it. It continued to focus on the nearest enemy. The young worgen moved too slowly to dodge the heavy paw. The blow sent the Gilnean tumbling, although unfortunately not far enough to keep him safe from the bear.
Another arrow already nocked, Varian fired. The second shot also struck, this time in the upper chest. However, the bear’s thick hide and strong muscle were enough to keep the creature from being badly wounded.
As the second bolt hit, another worgen suddenly leapt into the struggle. He threw himself in front of the fallen one, then howled a challenge to the bear. The looming beast roared back at the worgen. Huge teeth snapped at the brave Gilnean.