The Legend of Huma

Chapter 25

“They told me it was you, but I could not believe it! Not after the tales that have circulated.”

“Tales?” Huma and his companions had climbed down from the dragons—where they would have been swarmed by knights and commonfolk alike if not for the quick thinking of Lord Grendal, who controlled the Keep’s defenses. Several of the well-trained veterans who made up Grendal’s force were out and around the newcomers within the first minute after the landing.

Lord Oswal, Grand Master, indicated Huma himself. “You know what I speak of. The stories of your battle with the demon who seeded plague and dissension throughout the land.”

“Rennard?”

“Rennard. Amazing how faulty their memories can be. When he was revealed for what he was and you defeated him there, they quickly forgot how much they wanted to believe the rumors he spread. They blamed him as an evil demon or cleric—I forget what exactly. Then, to top it all off, you supposedly vanish into thin air like Paladine himself.”

Huma’s face turned dark crimson. “The part about my vanishing is true, but I assure my lord that it was not by my own power.”

“Indeed.” Lord Oswal’s eyes strayed to the Dragonlances and his body seemed to shake momentarily. “Are those, then, what you have been seeking? What we have so desperately needed?”

“Yes, milord. The Dragonlances. We would have been here sooner, but we became caught up in the battle.”

“I daresay. I’ve had men and dragons alike speak of how the eight of you came from nowhere, dealing fear and death to the Dragonqueen’s lackeys. Perhaps they are right; perhaps you are Paladine in mortal guise come to Krynn.”

“Lord Oswal!”

The Grand Master chuckled. “I have not come around to that way of thinking, Huma. Not yet.” Despite his evident desire to inspect the lances, Oswal turned to the rest of Huma’s band. “I know you, minotaur, and glad I am that I had faith in you. You live up to all the good I have heard of your kind. I thank you for your assistance.”

Kaz was oddly quiet. “I did what I was required to do. I have sworn an oath to Huma.”

“Is that all it was?” The Grand Master smiled and turned to the others, starting with Lord Avondale. There was just the hint of coolness in the Grand Master’s tone. “I welcome you, Ergothian commander, as a fellow knight. I do not suppose you have brought your army with you?”

“When we met that one time. Grand Master, I knew you would someday hold your present position, but I hoped it would mellow you before we had to face each other again.”

Oswal accepted the veiled reprimand with a more genuine smile. “Forgive me if I sometimes forget I am also in the presence of a cleric of Paladine.”

Huma, Kaz, and Buoron looked at one another. While they respected Lord Avondale, they would have never taken him for a cleric of Paladine. Then again, who was to say what a cleric had to look like so long as his belief and his ways did not contradict the teachings?

“You’ve let out my secret, but it’s just as well. Perhaps Huma now will understand why I wanted him to accompany me to Caergoth. When I noted the sign of Morgion on such an obviously loyal knight, I worried that he might be marked for some foul deed.” Avondale turned back to Huma and smiled.

The Grand Master turned from Avondale and regarded Buoron with some amusement. With his great beard, the knight from the southwest stood out. Buoron was shaking in the presence of the Grand Master.

“You are . . .”

The knight blinked several times before blurting out his name. “Buoron, milord!”

“From one of our remote Ergothian outposts, I imagine.”

“Yes, milord.” Buoron was white.

“Good man.” Lord Oswal patted him on the shoulder and turned away. Buoron breathed a sigh of relief and gave a sickly smile.

“Now, then, Huma.” The Grand Master was all seriousness. “If you would be so kind, I would like you and your companions to join me in my quarters. I want to hear everything.”

“Yes, milord, but the Dragonlances—”

“Will be handled with care and placed in a safe location until we decide what can be done with them. Now come; I suspect you all could do with something to drink. I know after today’s near-catastrophe, I could.”

Huma’s report was punctuated every now and then by the thunder and lightning playing havoc in the mountains to the west. Takhisis letting loose her rage on those who had failed her, Kaz suggested, or perhaps Galan Dracos furious over his followers’ failed attempts to seize the Dragonlances.

Lord Oswal tapped the table as he absorbed all Huma had related. “Paladine! I never would have believed it if it had not been you—and to actually see them! You make an old man proud, Huma. Durac would have been proud, I know that.”

“Thank you, milord.” That compliment meant more to him than all others.

“Made from dragonsilver by a smith with one silver arm, and bearing a god-forged hammer, as well.”

Huma looked perplexed. “I made no mention of that.”

The Grand Master smiled knowingly. “I am a student of old lore, Huma, which is one reason I believed in you all along. If this smith is as you described him, he must be bearing a hammer that was forged by Reorx himself. I am thankful that our ancient records are true after all and you have lived to bring the weapon to us.”

Something had been building up inside Huma and he finally stood. “Milord, I beg of you. I appreciate all you have been saying and I know there was much you had to hear, but we now have the Dragonlances and I must ask of you a favor. There are twenty lances that may be utilized in the heavens. Give me but one lance and let me fly to the domain of Galan Dracos and his dark mistress. I must free Magius!”

“Knight Huma.” The Grand Master’s voice was toneless, frighteningly akin to Rennard’s. Lord Oswal stared at him until Huma sat. “One man or woman, be they companion, lover, or blood kin, is not worth the lives of hundreds—and I say that even if I were that one. You may disagree with me, and that is your prerogative—in private. We are fighting for the existence of all Solamnia, of all Ansalon if not Krynn itself. I cannot condone your idea.”

“He was taken defending the lances.” Huma’s bitterness began to show.

“I understand that, Knight Huma, as I understand the dangers to you that I think you do not. My answer remains the same. Understood?”

Huma said nothing.

“Now, then, you have twenty-one lances, one of which is designed for a footsoldier, you said.”

“Yes.”

“Twenty lances are hardly sufficient. We were fortunate this time, in that the dragons did not expect you, and your sudden appearance threw them into confusion.”

“They fled with their tails between their legs,” remarked Kaz smugly.

“This time. When next they come—and do not believe they will not—they will act with more cunning and more confidence, and four lances, let alone twenty, will not prevail.”

“You are claiming the fight is lost already. This is not what I expected to hear from the Grand Master of the Knights of Solamnia,” Lord Avondale commented.

The Grand Master ignored the look of disdain on the Ergothian’s face and kept his gaze fixed on Huma. “While some may see this as accepting defeat, it is only because they have not bothered to wait and hear. What we need to do is clear the smithy of all else and create, as accurately as possible, lances as near in quality to the originals as we can.”

Guy Avondale’s eyes narrowed, and a thin smile played across his lips. Kaz and Buoron exchanged looks of puzzlement. Huma hesitated, then saw where the elder knight was leading.

“A ploy! We’re going to ensnare them with a great bluff!”

Lord Oswal smiled, an edge in his gaze. “A bluff. Exactly. We already have the setup for creating ordinary lances. Now we shall make as many faithful forgeries of the Dragonlances as possible.”

“How long will all this take?” asked Avondale. “As you yourself have indicated, it will not be long before they return.”

“Metalworking in most of its forms is an art with us, commander. It is part of the secret of our success. Shoddy weaponry and protection make for shoddy armies—a paraphrasing of something in the Measure. Given two days, we will have more than a hundred lances. They will be, as I said, copies, forgeries of the true Dragonlances. The word has no doubt spread as to the cause of the rout. When next we face them, I hope to have at least a hundred lances ready. When the Dragons of Takhisis come, they will find themselves facing a veritable cavalry charge. The element of surprise will be ours. I am hoping that a hundred lances, supposedly actual Dragonlances, will cause a new panic. With the dragons at bay, our own forces will advance and meet the ogres.”

“This is more than a bluff. You intend to win, Dragonlances or not. It is an interesting plan. You have faith in it? Truly?”

“As a cleric of Paladine, you should know. Besides, it is not so much the plan I have faith in as it is in my men. We are, after all. Knights of Solamnia.”

“Huma.”

He had been walking alone, trying to sort out all that was happening. Magius, the Dragonlances, Galan Dracos, Gwyneth—

“Huma?”

He whirled. She was there in the shadows of the stable. She was clad in a flowing robe of silver-blue, her slim form partially revealed as she walked toward him. Huma could only gape.

“Gwyneth?”

She smiled. “You expect someone else?”

“No!”

“I wanted to come to you earlier, but it wasn’t possible. There are—some things—I must sort out. I hope you don’t mind if I walk with you, though.”

“No. Not at all.”

Gwyneth took his arm, and the two walked slowly around the courtyard. It was the first nearly clear night that Huma could recall. There were even patches of actual sky, as if the cloud cover at last were breaking up. Huma knew better than to hope it would vanish. Only one thing would bring that about: total defeat of the Dragonqueen.

It took him some time to build up the nerve, but at last Huma asked, “How did you get here?”

She turned her face from him. “Please don’t ask that now. I promise I’ll tell you soon.”

“Very well. I’m just glad to see you.”

That made her turn back. “I’m glad of that. It makes everything worthwhile.” Gwyneth’s expression suddenly darkened again. “I heard something about you wanting to go after Magius by yourself.”

“The Grand Master forbids it.”

“What will you do?”

“I obey the Grand Master. It’s my duty.”

They were silent after that. Gwyneth had rested one hand on Huma’s arm and, as they walked, he was astonished at the strength in that hand. There was so much he did not know about her, including her connection with the Dragonlance. She must be a cleric, he decided, but of which god he was not sure.

Gwyneth suddenly stared ahead and stiffened. Huma followed her gaze and caught sight of an unfamiliar male of approximately his own age. The man was dressed like a villager—they had come straggling in to Vingaard Keep just before the war reached their homes—but his stance was not like one of them. The face was fairly well hidden by shadow, but Huma could have sworn that the eyes blazed. After glancing at both of them, the stranger disappeared around a corner.

“Who is that?” Huma’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. If someone stalked Gwyneth . . .

“No one,” she replied, much too quickly. Gwyneth disengaged herself from Huma’s arm. “I have to leave now. I’ll see you again later, I promise.”

She turned the way they had come, and hurried away. Huma thought to follow her, but she was out of sight almost instantly. The knight blinked; he could not recall when or where she had turned.

Reaction to the Dragonlances was not what Huma and the others had expected.

He had offered to demonstrate the methods and uses of the Dragonlance. To his amazement, only a handful of knights came to see him. One of them revealed the reason for the astonishing apathy among his brethren. Huma, stunned, told the others what the knight had said and how widespread those feelings were among the knighthood.

“The time for miracles is past. They will not accept the magic of the lances, and who can blame them? We are asking them to risk their lives uselessly as far as they are concerned. Those who ride with the true Dragonlances will bear the brunt of the assault and then attempt to break through and strike at the heart of evil, Galan Dracos and his infernal mistress. But suicide is against the Oath and Measure. And few have the true faith in Paladine where this is concerned. I was told a few believe I created the lances myself. They want to know why they should risk their lives so needlessly when they could be here, with their comrades, fighting a definite foe on more equal terms. Fighting dragons is one thing; facing the Dragonqueen herself is folly. That message was relayed to me more than once.”

Lord Oswal rose at that point. “They’ll risk it, curse them! They’re knights, not skulking thieves! I’ll order them to take the lances and use them!”

“And they’ll die,” Avondale threw in.

“What’s that?” The two commanders locked eyes.

“They’ll die, Grand Master. With little or no faith, they’ll simply die. It’s not a matter of whether the power of Paladine flows within the Dragonlances, The hand that guides the weapon also must believe or else reactions will be a little too slow, a little off the mark. They must have faith, as we do, or they will lose because they will see these lances as they have seen all lances—objects that will bend, break, or shatter on the hides of the dark dragons.”

“But a Dragonlance—”

The Ergothian cleric held up a hand for silence. “We have twenty Dragonlances, correct?”

“Plus the footman’s lance,” Huma quickly added.

“Twenty lances. All we need are twenty men. I think Paladine is watching over us. If there are only twenty Dragonlances, then there is a reason. If we are to obtain more, Paladine will see that we do. If our faith is strong, twenty lances or a thousand, we will triumph.”

Lord Oswal looked at Huma. “He’s right.”

Huma studied those assembled in the room. Kaz, Buoron, and Avondale would follow him on this. He needed only sixteen other men. “Let there just be the twenty, then.”

More than one eyebrow was raised at that. Huma did not wait for questions, instead plunging immediately into his thoughts.

“Buoron, Kaz, milord Avondale. I know that you three will join with me. You know the Dragonlance; you know what it can do. If twenty lances are all that stand between us and defeat by the Dark Queen, then we should thank Paladine we have even those and use them to the utmost.”

“You should have been a cleric, Huma, for your faith is stronger than any I have ever known.” There was no mockery in Lord Guy’s tone.

There was a knock on the Grand Master’s chamber door, and one of the Knights of the Rose who made up the ruling knight’s guard entered. “Grand Master, Knight Bennett wishes to speak with you.”

“I summoned him from the Keep walls some time ago. Where has he been?”

“He did not say, milord.”

Lord Oswal glanced at Huma and then nodded slowly. “Allow him to enter.”

“Milord.” The guard spoke to someone in the hall and then stood at attention. Bennett, looking more like his father than Huma had ever seen him, stalked imperiously into the room. He saluted his uncle deferentially and acknowledged the presence of the others politely, though he stared long and hard at the Ergothian commander.

“What is it, Bennett?”

“Unc—Grand Master, I have been studying the Dragonlances.”

The elder knight’s expression darkened. “Who gave you permission?”

Some of the imperiousness vanished. “I did it of my own accord. I could not help it, after you spoke to me of it following Huma’s—his disappearance.”

Bennett looked at Huma as he talked, but the latter could read nothing in the stiff, hawklike features.

“And?”

His nephew’s eyes widened, the mask fell away, and both Huma and Lord Oswal were astonished at the wonder that spread over Bennett’s face as he spoke. “They were smooth to the touch—so smooth they must cut the air effortlessly. I’ve never seen a point so sharp, nor a metal so bright—so alive. I’ve heard that many doubt the authenticity of the lances, but I cannot believe but these were sent to us by Paladine, through his chosen champion.”

For the first time ever, Huma felt a deep respect emanating from the Grand Master’s nephew, and directed at Huma himself.

Lord Oswal was no less surprised. Kaz snorted quietly in derision, but the look Bennett threw him caused him to stop immediately.

“I want to be one of them, Grand Master. I counted but twenty and I know not if we will have any more, but I want to be one of them. It is what I have trained for—to give myself in service to the Triumvirate and to Paladine, I will face any test if needed to prove I am worthy.” Bennett exhaled and his shoulders slumped. He had bared himself to all present and now awaited judgment.

The Grand Master looked from Huma to Avondale and then back to his nephew.

“Knight Bennett, you are, I see, the son of my brother—my brother before the strain of leadership tore us apart. If you can but remain as you are now, I see in you what many have always believed—that you will be among the first and best in our ranks.” Bennett’s shoulders stiffened in unconcealed pride. Oswal continued, “If you would truly be what we all strive to be, then I ask that you make your example this knight here—” he pointed at a stunned Huma—“for he is the embodiment of our teachings, whether or not he believes it so himself.”

“Am I then—”

“You are, and I charge you with a special task. Find others like yourself, from all three Orders and numbering fifteen total, who are willing to believe in the strength and will of Paladine and who will ride the skies with the Dragonlance before them.”

Bennett nearly stumbled toward the door, then turned to his uncle. Lord Oswal waved him off. The Knight of the Rose departed with haste.

Bennett did exactly as he was told. He sought volunteers from all three Orders and chose them based on merit and belief, not whether they were loyal to him, as he would have done prior to his father’s death. Among the volunteers were veterans and near-novices. Included by Bennett, surprisingly enough, were three knights who lacked limbs or were permanently disabled, all from the war. Had this been peacetime, Lord Oswal would have given these men work in the Keep, something to keep them active but away from awkward situations. Now, though, every man who could fight was needed. Men who had lost a leg could still ride and swing a sword. One useless arm still meant that the knight could use his other. A Knight of Solamnia did not quit until he was either triumphant or slain. Had they eliminated such men from the ranks, the available forces in the Keep would have been cut by nearly a quarter.

With the retreat of the Dragonqueen’s forces from the vicinity of the Keep, lines of supply reopened, albeit sporadically. Awaiting their first opportunity, knights in the southern reaches shipped food and raw materials. It was dangerous going, for the ogres and dragons still harried the routes, and some wagons never completed their journey.

The mountains to the west were ominously quiet, and Huma found himself staring at them, on and off. Magius was still out there, and Huma still felt the desire to attempt some sort of rescue. Waiting in the Keep for whatever Galan Dracos and his mistress plotted next irked him.

It might have been easier if Gwyneth had been with him, but she had not returned since that one night. Huma had taken to conversing with the silver dragon. They spoke only when alone together, for the presence of the other dragons guarding the Keep—and especially the silver dragon’s two siblings, who watched Huma intently each time he came around—embarrassed him.

She listened to his every word and answered his questions with such intensity that it was often easy to forget he was speaking with a creature vastly larger and more ancient than he. At the same time, she seemed filled with a sadness that Huma was never able to identify. He pressed her only once on it. When Huma had probed too far, the great dragon had turned and moved away without another word.

Huma could not explain the reasoning behind the feeling that had surged through him then, but he somehow knew that the sadness which had become so much a part of the leviathan was due to him.

He was careful never to bring up the point again, for fear of what truth he might discover.

Three days passed, and then it was as if the heavens themselves had erupted. Knights in the Keep pointed skyward, and the murmuring began. Though they would deny fear, many turned pale as they remembered the last time the sky had looked like this.

Huma rushed to the battlements, Kaz and Buoron close behind him. Both Huma and the minotaur stared through narrow eyes at the horror before them. Buoron, having come from the southwest outpost, had not been present at that time, but he studied the scene and then turned to his companions, seeing for the first time the looks on their faces.

Turning pale himself, he asked, “What does it mean? Why is it so black?”

The rolling darkness, which had nearly lost the war for the knighthood in that earlier battle, spread slowly toward the outermost lines of defense. The winds around the Keep were building to a pitch.