The Legend of Huma

Chapter 13

Buoron turned to gaze at the nymph. He was a rough-featured man, neither handsome nor ugly, but weathered. A deep sadness was in his eyes. Oddly, he was also minus the impressive mustache that most knights sported. Instead, he wore a black beard clipped in the same style as Lord Avondale. Huma wondered how long the other Solamnic knight had lived in this region.

“Leave us now,” Buoron said to the nymph.

“Will you not fight?”

Buoron seemed disgusted by the question. “He is one of my comrades. I will not fight him.”

“Oh.” She frowned, then brightened. “Will you fight the mage?”

“Mage?” The other knight brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and looked at the slumbering bundle. “He must be sorely tired to sleep through all this.”

“She’s put him under,” Huma explained.

A sigh. The knight seemed to expect this. “Why?”

The nymph pouted. “I do not like him. He is one of the dreamers I showed you.”

“Is he now?” Buoron straightened, his interest keenly awakened. “Which one?”

“The one who keeps dying.”

Huma’s eyes narrowed. At one point in their travels, Magius had revealed that his death scene now repeated itself constantly in his dreams. The nymph could not have known that. Or could she? Did she really see others’ dreams?

“Release him,” the rider ordered.

“Do you not want to sit with me?” She shifted all too purposefully. Buoron’s face reddened again.

“No. Leave us. This is important.”

The water creature put two delicate hands on her hips and gave an angry look. “I do not like you anymore. I no longer want you to come visit me.”

She ran off into the water and, when it proved deep enough, dove beneath the surface. There was nothing to indicate that she was anything but human, save for the slight greenish cast to her skin and the amazing fluidity of her movements. Huma wondered how she breathed.

Buoron muttered, “She does not mean what she said. She’s been angry with me more than a dozen times before, and each time she forgets before I’ve drawn another breath. I believe it’s the nature of her kind, though I’ve never seen another.”

Huma looked down at the still-slumbering Magius. “Will she remember to release her victim?”

“Give her a few moments. She can hold onto the spell for only a brief time longer. You know my name, brother of the Order. What might yours be?”

Huma straightened. “I am Huma, Knight of the Crown, out of Vingaard Keep.”

“Vingaard!” The name was spoken as if the name of Paladine himself. “Have they broken through at last? Is the war finally coming to a close?”

Huma shook his head and then stared at the ground. Quickly, he described what had happened. Buoron was not pleased.

“One of her games,” Buoron said with a gesture toward the water, “is to take the dreamer’s mirror, an ancient artifact, shake it, and see whose dreams she gets.” The bearded knight shivered. “The dreams of the Dragonqueen’s servants are darker than you could ever imagine.”

“Has she always lived here?”

Buoron shrugged. He did not like speaking about the nymph. His relationship, no matter what it was, was something the knighthood would not condone. “She was here when I joined the outpost. Her treasures are incredibly ancient.” He paused. “I came upon her by accident. The other knights never come this far. I was chasing a stag, and I had no desire to lose it. It is not often we eat such splendid fare at the outpost. For one reason or another, the stag rushed through here. I fell when my steed came to an abrupt halt, and when I finally had cleared the pain from my head, I found myself looking into her eyes.”

Huma could read the embarrassment in the other knight’s features. “You need have no fear, brother of the Order. I will tell no one of this lake.”

Buoron shrugged. “They know, more or less. I have made no secret of my comings and goings, and I have done little more than sit with her. A nymph is not real. I would want something more.” Magius began to stir. The other knight pointed at him. “Your sorcerous friend wakes. I doubt he will take kindly to having been kept under a glamour spell all this time.”

Huma glanced down. Magius was not yet truly awake, but any decision on Huma’s part would have to be swift. “He need not know.”

The bearded knight said nothing, but gratitude flared in his eyes. It was obvious to Huma that he cared more about the water nymph than he had indicated.

Magius leaped up as some sense told him that he and Huma were no longer alone. He turned to stare at the newcomer

“Greetings, Red Robe.” Buoron’s salutation was crisp and functional. Magius received only the respect due one who traveled with a fellow knight.

The mage had recovered. He bowed low in the manner so typical of him and returned the greeting. “My greetings to you, Knight of Solamnia. I had no idea another of the noble knighthood was so far south.”

Huma’s expression did not change, but he was disturbed by yet another lie from his friend. When they had fled from the ruins, Magius had commented on his desire to bypass the outpost.

“We have an outpost down here,” Buoron replied. “A small one and often forgotten. I do not doubt it will be abandoned as the years pass.”

“Yes.” The magic-user was visibly uninterested. Instead, he was staring down at the spot where he had been sleeping and then at the lake. “My apologies for not rising sooner. It is unlike me. I did not mean to be impolite.”

Buoron fidgeted and his horse, a cream-colored charger, stepped nervously about as it felt the shifting of its rider. “Not at all. It happens often here. I, myself, have fallen into the very same sort of sleep.”

“It is still no excuse.”

“How far is it to the outpost?” Huma finally asked, causing Magius to glare at him.

“Not far. An hour’s ride. You must come, of course. Despite the terrible news you bring, your presence would be appreciated.”

Magius chuckled enigmatically.

The other knight was taking a distinct dislike to the spell-caster. Pretending not to have heard the mage’s laugh, Buoron indicated the duo’s mounts.

“These beasts appear to have been ridden all night. They need some proper care if you plan to move on.” He was careful not to ask the purpose of their journey, assuming that Huma would inform him if and when it was proper.

The mage gave in. “Very well. It shall have to be a short stop, though. We have far to travel.”

“Um.” That was all that Buoron would say in reply, but he watched both men with interest, Huma noted, as they untied their animals and mounted them. When they were ready, he pointed to the west. “That way. Ride on ahead. I’ll be only a moment.”

Huma and Magius urged their steeds through the trees and brush. The former glanced back and saw Buoron dismount and remove a small wooden carving from one of his saddlebags. The water nearby began to bubble, and the head of the nymph broke the surface. Then Huma’s view was cut off by the trees. When his companion turned to him, the knight reacted as if his thoughts had been on the trail ahead.

It was not more than a minute or two before Buoron came riding up behind them. He nodded to Huma and immediately took the lead.

As they rode, Huma plied him with questions about the outpost. “Are there many outposts here?”

“We are one of only two. The other lies on the western side of that stretch of mountains.” Buoron pointed to a chain of peaks that became visible only when the trio of riders emerged onto the top of a hill. “Essentially, we oversee the eastern half and they the west. There is little down here to interest the Dragonqueen, though. We have been reduced to chasing would-be brigands when we should be charging into the lines of the foul ogres.”

“Are you a large outpost? I’d not known there was anyone here.”

Buoron laughed, bitterly, it seemed. “Neither did I, until I was ordered down here some five years ago. No, we’re not a large outpost. Eighty knights trying to keep watch on a countryside rivaling the size of Solamnia. We had more once.”

Huma did not need elaboration. Now, with the war going so badly, they truly were cut off from all others save their counterparts on the western side of the mountains. They could not abandon the outposts and go riding north to join the struggle. They had been ordered down here, and they would stay until that order was changed. Duty was something ingrained into every knight. Rennard had expressed the importance of that, time and time again.

“Have you ever been to the mountains?” Magius asked abruptly.

“No.” Buoron had no desire to converse with the spellcaster.

“Has anyone?”

“Only to the outer peaks. We stay away from the inner range.”

Magius appeared quite interested. “Why is that?”

“The paths are unsafe. That’s all.”

Huma watched his companion’s face fall. Magius was probing for something more out of the ordinary.

This deep into southern Ergoth, it was difficult to believe a war raged in the land. To be sure, the skies were as overcast as they had been in the north, but there was more of a peace in the woods and fields. It was a false peace, Huma realized, for it would vanish the instant the Dragonqueen’s hordes were finished with Solamnia. With Solamnia gone, the Queen of Darkness would sweep over the rest of the continent in less than a year.

“We are almost there.”

Huma took his first look at the Solamnic outpost. It was not a towering edifice like Vingaard Keep. The entire structure was made of wood, treated so that flames could not turn it into a deathtrap. The walls surrounding the complex appeared to be more than four times Huma’s height. The top edge was consistently punctuated by gaps set aside for archers. Only one building was visible over the wall, a watchtower upon which even now a sentry was standing, his attention fixed on the approaching trio. The man raised a shout and pointed toward them. Buoron did not call out, but he gave the sentry a weary wave.

Huma glanced at Magius; the mage was staring longingly at the distant mountains.

There were renewed cries when the sentry noticed that one of the two strangers was a fellow knight. The wooden gates swung open as the three reared them, and it appeared that nearly all of the outpost’s inhabitants were coming out to welcome the newcomers.

“Buoron! Back so soon? What have you brought with you?”

The tall, elderly speaker must have been a knight even when Lord Oswal was a child. He was deeply wrinkled and his voice shook slightly, but his moves were graceful and Huma suspected he could still handle a sword. Unlike the majority of the knights, who seemed to favor Ergothian beards, the aged knight still sported a traditional, if somewhat silver, mustache. He was a Knight of the Rose, the only one Huma could see upon first inspection.

“Hail, Lord Taggin. Two travelers in need of rest, one of them a brother to our ranks. He has news of the utmost importance.”

Taggin nodded grimly. “I’d thought as much.” To the rest of the assembled knights, he said, “Return to your duties! Remember that you are Knights of Solamnia, not a gaggle of hungry geese!”

Some disappointment showed in the faces of the knights, many of whom, Buoron explained, had been assigned to the outpost for nearly ten years. Taggin had been there twice as long. In fact, he had manned the outpost by himself for many years.

Huma could not help smiling. Somehow, he felt that he was among a different breed of knights than those back at Vingaard Keep. They were less strict with the rules, more willing to bend to circumstances.

As it turned out, the outpost included only three buildings. One was the tower, which also served as armory and stable. The second was a type of longhouse, which Huma recognized as the living quarters of the company. The third and, surprisingly enough, the most insignificant-looking of the three was Taggin’s command center and quarters. All were made of wood. To Huma, raised in a village, it was more like home than the proud Keep had ever been.

The outpost’s builders had planned as well as they could. Huma noted that the structure was close enough to the woods to allow the knights easy access to hunting and to gathering fuel for fires, yet was far enough into the plains so that any attempted assault would force the enemy to rush across long stretches of flat, open field. Water was provided by a small stream and a deep well. Later, Huma would discover that the knights even grew their own crops in a fortified extension behind the rest of the outpost. Again, Huma could not help marvel at the differences between the knighthood here and back in Solamnia.

Taggin ordered Buoron to deliver the two over to him as soon as they were clean and fed. Magius quite bluntly stated that he would talk to no one until he was finally allowed some rest. The commander frowned at the mage’s arrogant manner but conceded the necessity.

Huma awoke to the sound of men preparing to ride out. He glanced briefly toward Magius, who stirred restlessly and then turned to the nearest window. The mage peered out. The sun was going down. A number of fully armored knights were riding out of the gate, more than one armed with weighted nets in addition to their normal weaponry. For a patrol, it contained a large number of horsemen.

He saw Buoron walking past the doorway and signaled to him. The knight waved to him and turned back. Huma began to dress. Buoron entered.

“Are you better now?” The other knight was talking low.

“Much. I’ve not slept this long in weeks.” Huma was silent until he was fully clad. Then he and Buoron stepped outside. By this time, the last of the riders had left and the gates were closed.

Huma indicated the gates. “Why the heavy patrol? Is there activity by the ogres?”

Buoron shook his head. “I am beginning to doubt if there will ever be. No, this problem is more local. We do a little trade with the Qualinesti elves, though they generally tend to stay to themselves, like most of their kind.”

“One of the few who meet with us regularly told us a beast has been lurking about this general region.” The bearded knight smiled. “We wanted to ask them what they were doing so far away from their own lands, but our relationship would not stand the strain. Instead, we thanked them and began to investigate.”

“Did you see this creature?”

“We simply call him the Beast. He’s crafty, perhaps an ogre scout, even. Three times he’s given us the slip. Tonight, though, they think they can hunt him down to his lair. With any luck, the patrol will take him alive.”

“For what purpose?”

“If he’s a spy, he might have information. If he’s some sort of animal, Taggin still wants to see him. The Qualinesti are concerned about his presence; the commander wants to see why.”

Lord Taggin was finishing up his daily routine when Buoron brought Huma to speak to him. The elderly knight greeted his visitor amicably—protocol was unimportant out here—but he seemed nervous.

“You have no idea how it stands at present?”

Huma shook his head. “None. The hope was to regroup. That is all I know.”

“I see.” Taggin stared at him with penetrating eyes. After several moments, the elder knight said, “Nothing we can do. It will be best to break the news to the men first thing in the morning, Buoron.”

Buoron, who had been standing quietly through the entire talk, did not hesitate. “I’ll do it. Lord Taggin.”

“Fine.” The commander cleared off everything from the table he used for his work. “You are excused, lad.”

Huma turned as Buoron did, but Taggin immediately stopped him. “Not you, Knight Huma. I still have a few things to ask you. Be seated, please.”

Nothing was said until Buoron had departed. Huma felt uncomfortable alone in the presence of Taggin but was disciplined enough not to show it. Taggin tapped his fingers on the table. After evidently gathering his thoughts, he spoke.

“What is the purpose of your travels?”

“Milord?”

The nervousness of the senior knight had vanished. His voice and stare were both steady. “Don’t hedge, Huma. This is not Vingaard. I will not hold you to anything you say. This is between us. I like to think that I’m a good enough judge of character, and I trust you despite the company you keep.”

“Thank you, milord.”

Taggin smiled ruefully at the politeness. “I’m already well aware of my status and especially of my age. Please, call me Taggin. Now then, what is your purpose for coming here? I can think of a hundred different routes that would have taken you back to Vingaard long before now. Why head south? Is it the mage? Despite his less-than-savory attitude, I gather the two of you are close.”

“We grew up together.” Huma was hesitant about expanding on his friendship with Magius any more than necessary.

“Did you? Unusual combination. Still, a man is more than symbols or robes, be they white, red, or even black.”

“He is not evil, Lo—Taggin.”

The outpost commander smiled slightly. “I did not say he was.”

Huma began to break down in the presence of understanding. “He fears for his life, but he also thinks to end this war.”

“Which was his first priority?”

“I—” Huma tensed. “I would have to say his life is more important to him.”

“Understandable. Providing, of course, it is not to the detriment of the world.”

Huma had no answer for that.

Lord Taggin stood up and paced around the room. “Why have you decided to join him on this—shall we say ‘quest’ for want of a better word? Is it merely out of friendship?”

“Yes. No. Both.”

The elder knight raised an eyebrow. “Both?”

To explain his answer, Huma first had to tell Taggin of the Test and how it had affected Magius. The Knight of the Rose listened patiently as Huma told him about Magius’s premonition of his own death. Taggin’s expression changed little.

“You’ve been quite honest with me,” the commander said when Huma had finished. “I’d like to digest it and then speak to you again come the morrow.”

Now that it was over, Huma was sweating. “Yes, milord. Thank you.”

Taggin sat down in his chair. “I’ve lived a long life, Huma. I’ve seen more than you think. I want you to consider that tonight. Dismissed.”

Huma saluted and left. Once outside, he exhaled sharply. He found Buoron waiting for him.

“You’ve not eaten for some time,” the bearded knight finally said. “Would you like some nourishment?”

Huma smiled thankfully. “I could use some food. Magius might as well.”

“He can fend for himself. He’s a magic-user.”

The comment cut deep. Huma glanced back at the knights’ quarters. At last, he replied, “He’s probably still asleep. When he’s hungry, he’ll awaken.”

“Fine.” Buoron led him away, and Huma did not resist.

Night grew, aged, and finally passed away. Magius remained asleep. Huma decided that the mage must be purposely building his strength. Magius might have been dead, judging by the way he appeared, all pale and nearly as stiff as a corpse. Huma had checked his pulse, though, and discovered nothing wrong.

As the first hour of day passed, the sentry gave a shout that the patrol was home at last. Men rushed to open the gates, speculation on the success of the hunt rampant. Huma found Buoron and joined the rest. Taggin stepped out of his quarters and merely watched.

The first man at the gate peered through a spyhole and turned back in excitement. “They’ve got something!”

Immediately, Taggin walked toward them. “Everyone on duty return to his post! By the Triumvirate, this is a military establishment, not a circus! You’ll see the thing soon enough, if it’s truly a beast!”

The gates were opened, and the weary but triumphant party rode in. A number of them appeared wounded, but Buoron whispered that all had returned.

The Beast was not visible, having been wrapped up in weighted nets. Some patches of brown fur were evident, but the nature of the Beast was hidden; the creature had been forced into a ball. It snorted and growled.

Taggin had the Beast dragged to a pen, which had been built days before just for this event. While Huma looked on, several knights took hold of the bound mass and pulled it into the pen. The Beast squirmed and some of its wrapping came loose. The knights hurried out of the pen while the creature continued to try to free itself.

The patrol leader came up to Lord Taggin and saluted. “Found it in the gully: Killed a stag recently and was eating it. Sensed us but by then we had surrounded it. First men tried to net it, and it pulled them in. Got more men wounded trying to rescue the others. For a moment, I thought we were going to have to kill it. Fortunately, we did not have to. It tripped in the tangle of nets, and we had it.”

The elder knight nodded. “Paladine watched over you, that is obvious. I’m glad no one was killed. The cage should hold it now.”

“Best not to call it a cage. A prison would be a more proper term, milord.”

“Prison?” Beside him, Huma and Buoron exchanged glances. “What have we got here?”

The Beast was still unrecognizable, having succeeded in freeing its limbs but not in uncovering itself. It was obvious now, though, that some of its growls were actually muffled words.

The patrol leader looked overly proud. “A spy from the Dragonqueen! One of her ugly creatures from the north. The war has finally come to us.”

There was a gleam in the knight’s eye that Huma, at least, found disturbing.

Taggin stepped closer to the prison cage. The Beast had finally begun to tear away the nets still covering it.

“Sargas be damned! I’ll tear all of you apart!”

Huma froze. Buoron looked at him, possibly wondering why the sight of the Beast so astonished Huma. Having recently come from the north, Huma should have been familiar with such creatures.

The Beast pulled the last net from its horned head. It turned on its captors, breathing heavily. With blood-chilling fury, it shook the bars of its new prison.

“Fools! Cowards! Let me fight one of you! Give me a fair chance! Where is your vaunted honor?”

From its present angle, the Beast could not see Huma. Huma, though, could see the Beast quite well. He stared wide-eyed at the furious man-beast and wondered just how he was going to save Kaz from execution.