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. Rennard raised his fist to the
shrouded sky and wished that there had never been gods.
Dread, familiar sounds - the pounding of hooves, the
dash of armor - jolted him. His pursuers had followed him!
The knight turned at the sound, the sight strengthening
his fear.
A knight in war-scarred armor, riding a black horse,
came at him. The steed - spittle flying as it strained to keep
its mad pace - covered the distance between itself and
Rennard in great strides. The horse's master, riding low,
urged the animal on in harsh, unintelligible cries.
The horse charged straight at Rennard, but it was not a
demonic phantom. It was a flesh-and-blood horse, a flesh-
and-blood man - a man whose armor marked him as a
Knight of Solamnia.
To see a living being, even one wearing the armor of
those Rennard had betrayed, was so overwhelming that the
ghost could not readily accept the vision. Rennard stretched
a tentative hand toward the oncoming knight. The ghost
longed to touch a living, breathing person.
The horse shied, nearly throwing its rider. The other
knight cursed and turned the animal back on the path, the
path upon which Rennard stood. The horse stared fearfully
at the wraith, then galloped forward.
It took Rennard several seconds to realize the truth.
The horse, unable to swerve, had run THROUGH him. The
ghost stared after the knight and his dark steed, riding
madly down the broken road.
Rennard had to follow. Here was the first living being
he had seen since his death, and a knight! Although he had
betrayed the knighthood, Rennard felt a kinship for the
warrior
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