The Legend of Huma

Chapter 23

When Huma awoke, he felt bruised over every inch of his body, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.

He stood up and gazed at the wholesale destruction. The force of two such tremendous masses as the dragons had been enough to level much of the timber in the immediate area.

Charr’s inert form lay to one side, its neck snapped. The hideous face still had a toothy, upside-down smile. The deadly claws pointed uselessly into the air.

There was no sign of the silver dragon, even though at least some of the blood came from her. She must have moved under her own power, but to where?

Where, also, were his companions? Huma could hear no sounds and was disoriented as to what direction they must be in.

The Dragonlance and saddle lay nearby, where he supposed the silver dragon had fallen. The Dragonlance still gleamed brightly, and Huma felt a little better just to see it. At least one enemy rider and one red dragon remained—but where were they?

He could not very well carry the lance on his shoulders; it was more than twice his height. His only real option was to drag it. He looped some rope around the shield, tied it together, and then pulled it over his head and one arm. In his free arm, he held his sword, which had managed to survive the fall.

Dragging proved awkward, and Huma was barely away from the scene of destruction before he caught the lance on an upturned tree root. The knight put down his sword and began to work the very lengthy weapon around. It came loose suddenly, and Huma fell against a tree trunk. Every bruise in his body screamed, and more than a minute elapsed before he was able to sit up and coordinate his thoughts. The first thing he did was to reach for his blade. It proved to be an excellent decision.

The heavy ax struck the tree exactly at the level where his neck had been.

Huma tumbled forward as he grabbed his sword and attempted to untangle himself. To his surprise, no other attack was forthcoming. Instead, his attacker boomed forth with laughter.

“You can have all the time you need, Knight of Solamnia! It won’t do you a bit of good.”

Huma threw the rope down. He tightened his grip on the sword. He looked up to study his adversary—and shook his head, not believing what he saw. It had to be a trick!

Warlord Crynus was casually removing his battle ax from the tree trunk he had nearly severed. His plain ebony armor was dented and dirty in many places, but the warlord seemed in perfect health otherwise. His face remained hidden behind his visor, but his eyes glowed frost blue.

The tall, ominous figure should have been dead.

Crynus took a step forward. His deep voice hissed. “I am so pleased you survived, Huma of the Order of the Crown. You were lucky that day when we first met in the sky over that no-man’s land. By rights, I would’ve cleaved your head from your body. That accidental victory of yours never should have happened, and I have remembered ever since.”

One of the warlord’s heavy boots came down on the limb of a fallen tree and snapped it neatly. “I am the greatest of her infernal majesty’s commanders. She would have lost the war long ago if it had not been for me.”

“I have heard different,” Huma dared to say. “Some say the greatest is Galan Dracos.”

Crynus gave the double-bladed ax a practice swing. “He has his uses, but I distrust his loyalty.” The warlord paused and went on in a different tack. “Your thrust in that first, short encounter was a lucky one. As I said, that never should have happened.”

“Why not?”

“See for yourself, if you are fortunate enough.” The warlord charged Huma.

Huma ducked the first swing, and the ax bit into yet another tree. With incredible strength, the warlord turned the pull into a second attack, forcing the knight back as the ax suddenly came singing back over his head.

This time, Huma found an opening and thrust, but his aim was off, and the weapon deflected off the commander’s breastplate. Crynus laughed and renewed his vicious assault. Huma stumbled back and back as he sought to escape the continuing onslaught.

The ax missed Huma again by only inches. This time, though, the warlord had miscalculated, and the shaft of the ax struck hard against the side of a tree, bouncing out of Crynus’s hands. Daring everything, Huma lunged. This time, there was no mistaking the accuracy of his thrust. The sword came up and caught Crynus in the unprotected portion of his neck. Huma’s blade did not stop until it reached the back of the warlord’s helmet.

The black-clad figure stumbled away, attempting to wrest the sword from his opponent as he did so. The warlord stumbled, dropped his ax, and tripped. On his hands and knees, he gave a death rattle.

Then, the warlord’s maddening sound reverted to something more familiar—and chilling. While Huma watched, spellbound, Crynus slowly lifted himself to his feet, turned toward Huma, and smiled.

The mortal wound across the warlord’s neck was little more than a scar. He seemed—proud.

“I cannot die, Knight of Solamnia. I will heal instantly. I am, as I said, the greatest commander my lady has. My death would be a terrible blow to her. Thus I demanded of Galan Dracos this protection. At first, his attempt was only partially successful—almost to my eternal regret. Thus our foreshortened battle. My men would have taken you, but I wanted you for myself and they would not dare go against my wishes. I wanted you for what you had almost done.”

The battle ax came at Huma again. The knight was fully on the defensive now, for how does one slay an opponent who heals instantly? Crynus had the strength of many and stamina to match.

The warlord laughed at Huma’s efforts to dodge him and stay alive. Crynus was being openly careless, allowing his swings to go wild, taunting the knight with his immortality.

“I had expected more of a fight from you, young knight. You disappoint me.”

Huma backed into a tree. Crynus screamed as he swung the ax. The deadly blade narrowly missed Huma as the knight dove at the warlord. Behind him, the ax cut deep into the tree. The two collapsed into a heap and struggled. It was evident to Huma that he did not have the strength to match the warlord. Crynus pushed the knight away and tried to strangle him, but Huma kicked with his knee and threw his adversary off-balance. Both scrambled to their feet and faced one another. Huma still had his sword. The warlord was weaponless.

“What are you waiting for?” the ebony-armored commander gloated. “Run me through. I will still kill you with my hands.”

Huma tried to stall while his mind raced for ideas. “How is it your army functions without you? Aren’t you afraid they will blunder?”

Crynus laughed shortly. “Dracos is a competent commander. Besides, the time has come when my leadership can be spared. It is simply a matter of mopping up those who remain around Vingaard Keep. I leave such minor details to my staff.”

The battle ax lay only a short distance away. Huma took a step toward the weapon. If only he could get the ax.

Crynus screamed and threw himself on Huma’s blade. The knight released his hold and leaped for the battle ax. The warlord’s movements slowed as he attempted to pull the sword from his body. Huma picked up the battle ax and turned back to his opponent. Seemingly in no pain, the warlord began extricating the blade from his body.

Huma raised the ax. Crynus turned toward him.

The cut was clean and the helmeted head of the warlord went flying. The warlord’s body slumped to its knees. Huma threw down the battle ax with distaste. This was not his way.

The headless corpse rose to its feet again. All color drained from Huma’s face. With definite precision, the hands of the decapitated creature removed the broadsword and tossed it away. Huma could see the wound healing itself. Even the armor, like a second skin, sealed itself. Huma waited for the thing to turn to him, but it was as if he had never existed, for the headless body began to walk off, toward where the warlord’s head had flown.

Huma could run, he knew, but the warlord would follow, never tiring.

“SARGAS!”

The cry came from the direction of the undead Crynus. Huma scooped up his sword. He knew of only one who would give such an oath.

If Kaz were around, the others were likely to be nearby. And the Dragonlance—

Of course!

Huma broke through the foliage. There was Kaz astride his horse, the minotaur’s mouth agape. The others were nowhere to be seen. The minotaur’s eyes stretched wide as the body of Crynus neared the disembodied head, which wobbled and tipped as if it still functioned.

“Kaz! It must not reach the head!”

The minotaur urged his horse forward—at the abomination that called itself Crynus.

The warhorse charged forward until it was within six feet of the headless Crynus, then abruptly came to a halt, shrieking. Kaz wasted no time. He jumped off the panicked steed and raced the body for the head.

Huma, meanwhile, had returned to the Dragonlance. The knight picked up the shaft.

“Huuummmmaaa!”

Kaz burst through the foliage, nearly impaling himself on the Dragonlance. In his right hand he held a grisly prize, which still vibrated with ghastly life. Behind the minotaur came the sounds of something thrashing toward them with great purpose.

“Drop it!” Huma indicated the head. “Over there! Quickly!”

The minotaur tossed the head in front of the tip of the Dragonlance just as a gauntleted hand came into sight.

The headless body froze and then dove to the side before they could impale it.

“It knows!” said the minotaur with a snort.

Worse yet, as the body rose, it held out one hand, clutching the fallen and forgotten battle ax.

“This is madness,” Kaz muttered.

“WHAT is going on here?” cried a new voice.

Both Huma and Kaz looked up as the silver dragon hovered above them. She appeared drawn, and one of her forelegs hung limply, but much power still resided within her.

She turned her gaze from the two and stared at the horrible creature. “Is that—?”

The body reached for its head.

“Paladine!” the silver dragon uttered in shock. She inhaled sharply even as Crynus put down the battle ax and picked up his head. The arms of the monstrosity were raising the head high even as she unleashed a torrent of flame.

Dragonflame engulfed the warlord. The body wobbled, sank to its knees, and both head and trunk vanished in the purifying flame. Within seconds, no sign of the unliving Crynus could be seen within the miniature inferno.

The silver dragon landed in the clearing and readied herself for a second strike. “That should be the end of that thing,” she said.

“Wait!” Kaz cried. He rushed to the fire and picked up the battle ax, which had escaped the blast. He tossed the ax into the fire—then raced away as the weapon exploded. Bits of metal and wood scattered through the forest. Kaz cursed as a tiny piece of metal struck him on the shoulder.

“Sar—Gods! I cannot leave you alone at any time, Huma!” The two rose and dusted themselves off. The silver dragon, meanwhile, blew out the fire with a cold blast that left ice clinging to the nearest trees.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Huma said to her.

Her shoulders slumped from exhaustion. “The chill and the paralysis are among our normal abilities. The flame—the flame is possible for any dragon save the cowardly, ice-dwelling white, but it requires much of us—and I am afraid I overexerted myself. I must rest.”

Huma nodded understanding, then glanced around. “Kaz! Where are Buoron and Magius? Where are the Dragonlances?”

“Where I left them, I suppose. When we saw the dragons fall in the distance, I volunteered to go ahead and see if you were still alive.”

“Then you didn’t SEE them?”

“Who?”

“We must get to them, fast!” Huma turned to the silver dragon, but the great beast was slumped on the ground. Between the multiple wounds received from Charr, the fall from which she had cushioned Huma, and the tremendous final effort she had expended on the rampaging Crynus, she had reached her limit.

“Can we leave you here?” he asked.

Shining eyes opened and regarded him. “I will be all right. I’m sorry I can be of no assistance.”

Kaz retrieved his horse, the largest of their mounts. Once Huma was secure, Kaz urged the animal onward.

They could hear the clash of arms well before they neared the spot where Kaz had left the others. Huma had assumed that what he had seen from above was an out-and-out attack. In this, he was wrong. The Black Guard came upon Magius and Buoron from an ambush.

A bright light flashed before them, and Huma saw an ebony-armored figure go flying against a tree. It was not too late. Both Magius and Buoron still lived, still fought.

Huma did not wait for the horse to slow, but rather slid off and rolled to a crouch. Kaz removed his own battle ax and, with a cry, charged into the fray.

Magius crouched on the wagon, keeping most of the attackers at bay with short-lived spells. Buoron stood on the ground behind the wagon, fighting off those guardsmen who had encircled the mage. The enemy was drawing tighter.

Huma picked off his first opponent and charged into the next. As their blades clashed, Huma heard the howl. It was very near, and there was no mistaking it this time. A dreadwolf.

It leaped up onto the back of the wagon. Buoron saw it first, but that brave knight could only shout; he was already engaged with two other foes. Magius, pale and drawn, turned to face the creature. The mage shouted and unleashed a spell, but it sputtered and evanesced before it reached its target. Magius had reached his limit.

This time, the dreadwolf—or rather Galan Dracos, since his was the mind that controlled the unliving creatures—did laugh. Huma succeeded in disposing of his guardsman adversary and tried to reach the wagon. He was cut off by two more ebony-armored guardsmen and could only glance helplessly as the burning eyes of the creature brightened and the renegade unleashed a spell of his own. Huma did not see what happened next, but when the wagon came into his view again, Magius was standing unharmed. The Dragonlances had in some way protected him from Dracos’s foul power. The dreadwolf cringed back. Dracos had not expected this setback.

Then Huma was pressed back and Kaz was pulled from his horse. There was a flash of light and a tall, circular opening materialized in the air itself. It was a portal, the knight realized, a gate large enough to drive a wagon through. Huma struggled against the two warriors who blocked his path, and they gave quarter.

A guardsman leaped up behind Magius, and the spellcaster turned just in time. The hapless attacker crashed to the ground. The dreadwolf was nowhere to be seen.

One of Huma’s opponents made a fatal mistake and paid for it. The other fought with desperation. More guardsmen were swarming around the wagon. Buoron seemed to have vanished.

Two more black figures jumped on the wagon and this time Magius was not quick enough. One caught his arms and held him back while the other sought the reins. Other warriors began retreating through the portal, their destination most likely Galan Dracos’s citadel.

Another guardsman joined the other two on the wagon. Huma finally slew his last adversary and charged toward the wagon. A white abomination blocked his path briefly, but it appeared more intent on retreating through the portal than anything else. It did not even glance in the knight’s direction.

Though the wagon was only yards from the portal, the driver hesitated as the portal seemed to blink in and out of existence. The horses fought him for control. One guardsman leaped off the cart as Huma reached it. At the same time, Magius succeeded in breaking the hold of his captor and pushed his hand in the man’s visored face. A small burst threw the guardsman back, but it was only enough to stun him. Magius half-collapsed, the final effort exhausting him. He had no more power and little strength. He crawled forward and tried to wrap his arm around the driver’s neck. He succeeded in halting the progress of the wagon, but both men fell from the vehicle.

One of the few remaining guardsmen shouted something, and then they were all retreating toward the gate.

The horses, unsettled by all the commotion, again began to move. Huma grabbed the reins. The horses protested, but Huma began to shout commands to them. Kaz, daring everything, stood before the steeds and took hold of the bridles. With strength no human could match, he held the horses firm. They struggled a little more, then finally gave in to his control. Huma slumped down on the driver’s seat and nodded thankfully at the minotaur.

The portal vanished.

A groan came from behind the wagon. Huma jumped up, sword ready, only to feel a sting of pain from his left leg. He looked down to see a long gash that a broadsword must have opened during the fighting.

Kaz reached the groaning figure first. It was Buoron, lying half-underneath the wagon. His left arm was covered with blood, and there was a gash across his face. The blood from the facial wound had momentarily blinded him.

“Are you hurt severely?” asked Huma.

“My eyes sting and I fear no one will ever use me as a sculptor’s model, but the only true pain is in my arm. I am thankful it was not my sword arm. I fear it will be useless for some time.” Even as Buoron spoke, Kaz was already at work on the knight’s wounds. The minotaur himself was covered with countless minor wounds, but he seemed unconcerned with his own welfare.

Huma nodded and limped slowly to the front of the wagon. He peered over the far side and then froze.

Magius! Where was the spellcaster? Ignoring his pain, Huma leaped out of the wagon and searched the dead. All wore the black of Takhisis and her commanders. The few who had suffered at the power of the mage were easy to identify. Of Magius himself there was no sign.

Near the woods, Huma spotted a small rod lying among the scattered remains of the attackers. He walked over and picked it up.

The rod quivered, and Huma almost dropped it out of surprise. The surprise turned to fascination as the rod expanded, growing and growing until it was taller than Huma. It was the staff of Magius. The spellcaster was never without the staff.

It had been lying directly beneath where the portal had been.

Magius was in the hands of Galan Dracos.