The Legend of Huma

Chapter 15

The great giants loomed over them, oblivious to the tiny, uneasy creatures at the outermost edge. The mountains had been magnificent from a distance; they were overwhelming up close. Not even Magius spoke. As one, they could only stare.

The mountains here were old, much older than many of their counterparts to the east and even to the north. More than one peak vanished into the cloud cover, testimony to unbelievable heights. Time had weathered all the mountains, some so much that they resembled the shells of gigantic sea creatures. The wind, ever-present and ten times wilder than on the plains, filled the air with almost human shrieks as it danced through the chain.

“Sargas,” whispered Kaz. Nobody reprimanded him for the quiet exclamation.

It was, of course, Magius who broke their concentration. He shifted uneasily on his mount, his gaze fixed, for the most part, on the peaks within the heart of the chain. “We will accomplish nothing sitting here gaping. Are you prepared to go on, Huma?”

Huma blinked. “Yes. I guess we might as well. Kaz?”

The minotaur gazed up at the peaks—and finally smiled. “I am quite familiar with such landscape, my friend. I have no qualms.”

“We will wait here for you for three days, just as a precaution,” Buoron said.

Magius sniffed and looked disdainfully away. “It is not necessary.”

“Nevertheless, we will. What you say matters not.”

“Let us go, then,” Huma quickly put in. He had a great desire to get this over and done with—if that were possible.

“Agreed.” Magius urged his horse forward.

“Huma,” Buoron said somberly, and held out a hand. His face was much like the mountains before them—hard-featured, but still admirable in its own way. “May Paladine watch over you.”

“And you as well.”

The other knights nodded their farewells as Huma passed. Huma did not look back as he rode, afraid that the desire to turn back from what might well be a foolish quest would ensnare him. Yet he showed no sign of fear to Magius or Kaz. A knight such as Bennett would have ridden into the mountains prepared to face the Dragonqueen herself, if need be. Huma knew he could never do that, but he would do his best to ride with dignity.

All too soon they entered the mountain range. The peaks stood all around them, fantastic walls and barriers that seemed ready—waiting?—to close in and wipe out all trace of the tiny creatures who had dared to infest them.

“Mountains such as these have always made me realize how an insect must feel,” Kaz commented.

Ahead of them, Magius laughed scornfully. “These are mere lumps of rock. Impressive at first, but no more deserving of such reverence than the tiniest pebble on the beach.”

“You have never truly known the mountains, then. Be careful, lest they bury you beneath their insignificance.”

A cry rose from somewhere within the range of mountains. It was a harsh, predatory cry, and all three riders glanced around quickly.

As the seconds passed and nothing materialized, Kaz turned to Magius. “What was that? Are you familiar with the sound?”

The mage had regained his composure, as well as his arrogance. “A bird, perhaps. Possibly even a dragon. It would not surprise me to discover that the latter live here.”

“Here?” Huma had sudden visions of great red dragons swooping down on the hapless group. Magius might be able to hold them off temporarily, but neither Kaz nor Huma would have much of a chance. A broadsword was of little use against the armored hide of a dragon.

The trail was a twisting series of slopes, ledges, and precarious turns. Buoron had said that dwarves, long since departed from this region, had created the path, the only one that granted travelers some hope of emerging on the opposite side. The knights traveled the mountains as little as possible, not because they were afraid but because they knew that even the few brigands of the region steered clear of the chain.

The wind whipped Huma’s cloak wildly around, and he was forced at last to pin it around him. The chill wind created eerie sounds, like the calling of strange, unimaginable beasts.

Magius still had the lead, since he was the only one with any real idea where he was going. Huma was searching for a peak that matched the one on the tapestry, while Kaz was content merely to ride and let the others do the work. He cared little about what the magic-user was searching for. His own health, and Huma’s, was all that truly mattered. The Red Robe could perish for all Kaz cared.

They rode around yet another turn and—came to a dead stop. Magius sputtered curses. Kaz laughed, despite the sinister look in the spellcaster’s eyes.

The path lay buried beneath tons of rubble. Huma looked up and saw a new crevice in the side of one of the mountains. He tried to imagine the power required to create such a landslide.

“I’ll not be cheated!” Magius stood in the saddle, crying out at the mountains. He whirled on the other two and said, “There were two diverging paths a short distance behind us. See if either curls back toward this one. I’ll see if there is anything that can be done here.”

The minotaur did not care to take orders from Magius, but Huma quieted him. It would not do for Kaz to cross the mage now.

While the spellcaster investigated the avalanche, Huma and Kaz rode back. The paths that Magius had spoken about seemed fairly unused, and one had even been obscured by the fragile shrubbery prevalent in the mountain chain. Huma chose the overgrown trail.

Kaz broke off to investigate the other path. Huma watched him disappear, then he climbed off his horse. The footing on the path was too tricky, and he had no desire to endanger himself and his horse. Better to leave the animal behind. If the path proved steadier ahead, he would return for the horse and investigate further.

It required the use of his broadsword to clear the path of foliage. Although the individual plants were weak, they grew in such profusion that it was like cutting into thick bales of hay. Huma was forced to chop continuously for several minutes before he made progress.

First glance indicated that the path continued a rocky, upward climb that made riding impossible and walking a slow, dragging tedium.

Suddenly, he stepped onto a gentle downward slope partly hidden by the vegetation. Huma smiled in relief. This path seemed to circle around to meet up with the original path beyond the avalanche. After a lengthy inspection, he finally concluded that the path was not only passable but that it would lead them more directly to the peaks Magius sought. It was also, he was pleased to note, a much less windblown path. The knight turned back, increasing his pace. By this time, he was sure that Kaz had completed his own search. He doubted also that Magius would have found a way around the avalanche in the meantime. Huma’s path looked to be the best—and perhaps the only—choice.

He came to the meeting of the two slopes and stumbled back onto the rocky part of the trail. Huma turned a corner—and stopped dead before a great wall of rock. “What—?” he muttered, his brow raised in wonder. He looked up the length of the formation and laid a hand on its surface. It was all too real. He had to have taken a wrong turn, he realized.

Huma backtracked, and stood in puzzlement. Every indication was that he had followed the correct path the first time. Yet the rock formation looked as though it had been in place for years. Moss dotted its surface. The formation was quite weathered, almost round on top.

Finally, Huma gave up and returned to the other intersection he had discovered. Despite the feeling that this was the wrong route, he began to follow it. As he progressed, his confidence rose, for the trail seemed to lead back to where he wished to be. Then it abruptly curved toward the opposite direction. Soon, Huma was following a trail of twists and turns that kept his head spinning. The knight came to a halt. This path was leading him farther away. He grumbled to himself and then turned around to retrace his trail.

The path he had traveled, which he knew should have twisted to the right, now twisted to the left.

This was all wrong. Huma knew he could have made a mistake before, but not this time; he’d been especially cautious, painstakingly noting the way. Buoron and others had said many travelers never left these mountains; now he could see why. It was as if the mountains themselves moved against the unwary, although Huma knew it must really be the work of a mortal entity. His thoughts turned to Galan Dracos, but this did not seem to fit the renegade’s style. He was being herded, he realized; Dracos would have captured him by now. No, this was magic with another purpose.

His sword unsheathed, Huma began following the only available path.

There was nothing out of the ordinary, just rocks, scraggly bushes, and a high-flying bird now and then.

The path suddenly split off into two directions. Huma paused, suspecting that he really had only one choice. But which?

He pondered for some time before he noticed the tap-tap beat coming from behind him. Huma whirled, his blade up and ready. He had been expecting an ogre or perhaps one of the Black Guard; instead, he found himself facing a hooded figure sitting on a large, flat rock.

The tap-tap came from a staff much like Magius’s, and it was Held by a gray, gloved hand partially covered by the sleeve of a cloak. The gray cloak, in turn, covered most of the form of a—Huma stepped closer to be sure—a gray-faced man.

The gray man stroked his long, gray beard and smiled almost imperceptively at the knight.

Huma lowered the blade—but not all the way. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Who are you?” the gray man rejoined.

The knight frowned but decided to play the game for now. “I am Huma, Knight of the Order of the Crown.”

“A Knight of Solamnia.” The dull-colored figure spoke as if he had known it all along. The staff went tap-tap.

“I’ve answered your question; now answer mine.”

“I?” The gray man smiled, revealing gray teeth. “I am merely a fellow traveler.”

Huma indicated the area around them. “This is not your doing?”

“The mountains? Oh, no. They’ve been here for a long time, I understand.”

“I meant the paths that vanish.” The other’s eccentric attitude irritated Huma.

“I do not move mountains. It is quite possible that you are just not seeing well enough with your eyes.” The figure on the rock blended perfectly into the background. Huma found that to look away even for a moment meant he had to look carefully to find the man again. No doubt, the gray man had been sitting on the rock when Huma came through moments earlier. The knight had never seen him.

“Are you a magic-user?” Huma queried.

The tap-tap of the staff ceased for the moment. “Now that is an interesting question.”

The tapping resumed.

“Well?” Huma was fighting for control.

The gray man seemed to think for a moment. Then he pointed the staff toward the two paths behind Huma and asked, “Were you not choosing a path? You should get on with it, you know. You might be going somewhere important.”

“Very well. Which one would you choose?” Huma held his breath, wondering if he was going to receive an answer that made some sense.

After further consultation with himself, the slate-colored man pointed the staff at the path to the left. “That one has been proved to be quite popular.”

“Thank you.” Huma stalked off toward the chosen path. He wanted nothing more to do with gray men and paths that came and went. The sooner he was away—

“Of course,” the odd figure added, “Others have found the right path to be the right path.”

Huma stopped. He turned and stared coldly at the gray man. “Which would you choose?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The knight studied the two paths. From where he stood, they looked identical. He could not make a choice based on appearances. He would have to go with his instincts.

Purposefully, Huma stepped over to the trail on the right and began walking. He did not look back, even when the familiar tap-tap picked up again.

The parting comment, though, did cause him to pause momentarily.

“An interesting choice.”

The tapping ceased. Huma, despite himself, turned around.

The path—and the gray man—had disappeared. In their place stood a tall, angling peak.

Huma trudged along the winding trail for hours. He noted that the sun was already low in the sky, which meant that he had been separated from the others a good part of the day. Calling out had proved futile.

The wind had picked up. Huma drew his cloak around him, daring to sheath his sword so he could pull the garment tighter. He wondered how cold it got in these mountains and then decided it would be best not to think about it.

Where were Magius and Kaz? He hoped the minotaur and the magic-user would not kill one another now that Huma was not there to keep both under rein.

His stomach stirred in hunger again, prompting a vague twinge of guilt. Fasting was a rite of purification for the knighthood. A few hours should not have affected him.

A few berries dotted the bushes he passed, but previous experiments had proved them to be inedible and possibly even poisonous. He had seen no sign of animal life and had heard none, save the occasional cry of whatever creature waited out there. A great bird, perhaps. What did it eat, then? Unwary and foolish travelers?

Evening finally fell, and Huma waited for a sign from Magius. Neither light nor sound came through the darkness, however. Huma was still on his own when night had grown to maturity.

The night was bright, for a change. Somehow, the stars always seemed to shine through the cloud cover where the sun could not. Perhaps most encouraging, Solinari was at last ascendant. The god of the White Robes now watched over the world, and although Magius wore the robes of crimson Huma hoped that Solinari would watch over his friend as well.

Huma finally paused for the night, tired and confused, determined to go on once morning came. He crawled under an overhang in a fairly level spot and wrapped his cloak around him; a fire was out of the question. Huma had survived worse, but hunger pangs continued to irritate him, even as he drifted away into sleep.

Huma stirred. A sound, like the flapping of mighty wings, had pulled him from his slumber. Peering from his shelter, he saw nothing but the night and decided it was only a rockfall or the wind. He was soon back to sleep.

From behind a far outcropping, two gleaming, blood-red eyes peered sightlessly at the unsuspecting figure. The dreadwolf was set to watch only, not to kill—not this time. Yet the slumbering human made a satisfactory target, and of the abomination began to slink forward, yellowed teeth bared. It readied itself to leap—and a monstrous claw slashed out and crushed it beyond the undead thing’s ability to regenerate. Not a sound broke the night stillness. Huma stirred again but did not awaken.

The dawn brought with it the feeling that he was not alone.

Huma scanned the surrounding area. All remained as it had been the day before, save that the weather had grown a little warmer. Hunger still touched him, but he was beginning to gain control over it—or perhaps he had passed that point when it mattered.

He dared call out to his companions. The wind was weaker, and Huma thought that this time he might be heard. If that meant facing the creature that cried out yesterday, so be it.

There was no response to his shouts, either from the mage and minotaur or from the nameless creature. Huma gave up shouting and renewed his walk down the odd path. He no longer cared whether he could even retrace his steps.

To his surprise and pleasure, the trail became smoother and simpler to follow. And food was available—berries from a new type of bush. When they proved to be palatable, he began devouring all he could find. Of course, any poison might be slow in acting, but Huma recognized these plants. He decided that whatever had created the path wanted him alive for the time being.

At last, when he began to believe the path would go on forever, the trail stopped before a shining pool of water surrounded by fruit-bearing trees and a garden. Thirsty, he hurried to the edge of the pool. The water could not be poisonous if such life surrounded it, and Huma leaned down and scooped up a handful. The moisture trickled down his chin as he drank. Not satisfied with that, he knelt and bent forward to sip from the pool itself.

A dragon’s face stared up from the water.

He jumped away from the water’s edge and realized that the dragon’s face had been a reflection. He looked up with rapidly widening eyes. Huma had reached his destination.

A great stone dragon, six times his size, flanked the pool, and Huma saw that it had once had a counterpart on the opposite end. Only the pedestal and part of the head remained of the second dragon. Both appeared to have been carved out of marble or some similar stone.

The one still standing appeared to be a silver dragon, while the fragmented one had been a gold dragon.

Huma drank his fill. When he had finished, he looked straight ahead and noticed a doorway hidden by the tangle of plant life and literally cut into the mountain itself. He moved closer and studied the doorway. Tiny figures had been carved in relief around the opening, most of them weathered away. Some, protected by the heavy covering of plant growth, perhaps, were still quite recognizable—at least as definite shapes. Huma wished desperately to know what the symbols might mean.

Pushing aside thick vines, he peered inside. It should have been dark inside, yet he could see a faint glow within. Almost as if someone had lit torches to guide his way, he thought uneasily.

Sighing in resignation, he stepped into the entrance of the mountain, expecting the cavelike entryway to be damp and moldy. Instead, it was as if he had stepped into the council chamber of Vingaard Keep. The entrance was warm and dry, and the walls and ceiling were smooth.

It took him some time to travel the length of the stark hallway, his attention concentrated on the flickering light ahead. He completed the final stretch of the corridor. Belatedly, he remembered his sword and removed the weapon from its sheath. The corridor opened into a great hall, once the court of some great king or emperor, Huma decided. It stretched high; it was a natural cavern carved to perfection. The light was indeed from torches, and Huma wondered who had lit them.

Metallic statues of armored knights lined each wail. They were lifeless—and very lifelike. They could almost be sentries commanded to sleep until needed—or the undead ordered to slay any who intruded.

Huma stepped into the center of the room and stared at the floor. Now he could see the pattern etched into the stone. It, above all else, gave him heart, for it was a huge representation of Paladine himself, the Platinum Dragon. The dragon curled from one end of the room to the other and, if the knight was any judge, the pattern was indeed made of platinum. Huma marveled over the intricate work.

His gaze roved to the single piece of furniture in this cavern—a high throne, carved from wood such as Huma had never seen, wood that seemed to glow with life. The edges of the throne were encrusted with jewels, and these, too, gleamed from the light of the torches.

Childlike wonder swept over him as he walked around the chamber. The armor, he noted, included many of the various types worn by the knighthood over the ages. He opened more than one visor and peered inside, finding nothing but dust.

At last, he simply stood and gave thanks to Paladine for allowing him to proceed this far. He also prayed that the Triumvirate would watch over his two companions, despite their differences. Then he knelt in reverence before the throne.

His vigil, though, was interrupted almost before it began. A pounding sound, as of metal upon metal, resounded from one of the darkened corridors. Huma came to his feet and peered around, trying to discern from which of the corridors the sound originated.

The pounding died even as he stood, and Huma was unable to fathom its direction.

Huma remembered where he had heard a sound like that before—back at Vingaard Keep.

It was the sound a heavy hammer made when beating hot metal into shape at a forge.