The Legend of Huma

Chapter 26

“The Dragonlances! We must fly now!”

The others were gathering even as Huma and his companions entered the courtyard. Bennett looked to him as an aide might look to his commander. Here, Huma was in charge.

The dragons were there, also. They had had trouble in choosing who would join with the knights. Unlike the humans, all the dragons volunteered. It was the silver dragon who finally chose, she being most closely associated with the lances. Her choices were not questioned, for each of the volunteers was picked on the basis of past performance and physical endurance. There were silver ones, bronze ones—Bolt being the most vocal of these—and even a gold dragon.

More than enough saddles had been made and the well-trained knights were already finishing with that part of the preparations. Someone also had thought to secure the footman’s lance to the silver dragon Huma would be riding.

When all was ready, Huma turned to see everyone waiting. Then he grimaced, realizing that they were awaiting his orders. Even Lord Avondale, who Huma felt was certainly a more qualified flight leader, was deferring to him. Turning forward and assuring himself that all was secure, Huma kicked the silver dragon lightly and gave the signal to depart.

What an impressive sight, he thought, as he momentarily turned back to look. The twenty dragons made an arrowhead formation with Huma at the point; Kaz and Bolt were to his left, a little farther back, and Buoron was to his right. He could not see Lord Avondale, who was flying to the rear.

His thoughts were broken by the visage of the silver dragon as she turned to speak to him. “Huma, I ...” He looked ahead, expecting to see the Dragonqueen’s children breaking through the darkness. “Nothing. I—I merely wished to say you may count on me in all things.”

“I will always be thankful,” he shouted, for the wind was now so great that it roared in his ears, and he could not be sure how well she heard him. She had already turned away.

It became a battle merely to enter the curtain of blackness that had been raised by the followers of Galan Dracos. The winds were fierce. The riders were strapped down and the Dragonlances were hooked to their mounts for safety. Huma and the silver dragon were the first to enter and it was as if there were no Krynn. Sky and earth were gone. There was only the knight, his dragon, and his lance. No, Huma realized. There was more. Behind him, he could see the glow of the other Dragonlances. At first, Huma worried that they would shine like beacons to the forces of Takhisis. Then he saw how the lances ate away at the darkness, destroying the spell. It did not matter then whether they were seen or not. The darkness ceased to be a threat.

“We’re through!” the silver dragon shouted.

The world snapped back into existence. When Huma had wandered on foot, it seemed such an incredible distance, an endless darkness in which things not of this plane chittered and slunk toward their unseeing prey. Now, it seemed like nothing.

The enemy dragons were upon them.

The first came at Huma and the silver dragon as they emerged again into the light. One lone rider and dragon must have seemed easy prey for the red dragons, and the two of them turned from their brethren to deal with Huma. The other dragonriders began to emerge behind Huma, though, and the easy prey became the deadly hunter. The two overconfident reds fell swiftly, unable to break away in time. The others, blue, black, and red, came more hesitantly. It seemed to Huma that they attacked only for fear of their own mistress, a fear greater than that of the Dragonlances.

One of the twenty, Hallerin, a newly appointed but skilled Knight of the Crown, went down, burning from the acidic blast of his foe. The other knights had accounted for four of the enemy and the rest of the dark dragons turned in retreat, deciding to risk the wrath of their mistress.

Some knights wanted to chase after them, but Huma signaled against that idea by remaining on his present course. Huma’s target was the source of the shifting darkness.

Several times, they faced onslaughts of creatures of the air. There were dragons of nearly every color. At one point, they clashed with large, birdlike creatures with leonine jaws and three pairs of claws. Another dragonrider was lost to horrors that only could have been the mad creations of Dracos himself. Huma was particularly saddened by this loss, a scarred veteran of the Rose, named Marik Ogrebane. He had been one of the disabled knights and was the first to volunteer. Now only eighteen remained. As they flew, Huma memorized the place and circumstances of each death, hoping to mark the bravery of these men in some way, later on, in song or verse.

They were close, Huma knew, close to the source of the spell. He could feel it.

“I spy something, Huma,” said the silver dragon.

“Where?”

“Down there to the right”

He followed her gaze. There was nothing but a hill, barren but for a few bent and decaying trees, arranged almost in a pattern. It was certainly not what he was anticipating, and he told the silver dragon so.

She smiled knowingly. “Look not with your eyes, Huma. Look with the wisdom of Paladine. Have you ever seen trees growing in the form of a pentagram?”

The knight looked again—and realized how precise the pattern was. As he observed, the trees began to waver, as if they were not real. They did not fade, but twisted into brown-robed forms, like the mage who had attacked Huma in the woods in what seemed such a long time ago.

Now he saw them more precisely. Nearly a dozen figures squatted in the dirt, their heads down, their arms outstretched toward the center of the pentagram, where one of their number stood with arms raised high.

“Shall we take them? They seem unaware,” Kaz shouted from the side. Bolt eagerly expressed similar sentiments.

“I want to take them alive if possible.”

Kaz snorted. “If possible?”

Bolt plunged ahead—and barely missed being grievously wounded as something rose and shattered the air currents, as if lightning had emanated from the earth. Kaz and Bolt circled for another try and this time, when the attack came, Bolt easily dodged it. A crack of lightning split the heavens and struck the hill. When the smoke cleared, a small crater marked where the figures had been.

Huma turned at the sound of laughter coming from the silver dragon. “Thus his nickname, Bolt. All bronze dragons are capable of that trick, but only a few have such precision as he has shown, and none are his equal.”

Their defenses shattered, the renegade mages were suddenly active. They rose as one and turned toward the newcomers. Though Huma could not be sure from this distance, he thought their faces remarkably similar. They all might have been siblings. Then Huma realized what was so similar about each figure. They acted as if under a spell or with such concentration that it had become etched in their faces and movements. They were, in a sense, one being and they were pointing their hands toward Huma and the silver dragon.

“Dive!” he cried, but she was already doing that. The renegades tried to follow their progress, but the silver dragon wove a complex tapestry of turns and dives. While the mages concentrated on her, the other dragonriders moved closer.

How long could the renegades keep up this defense and still maintain the darkness? Huma wondered.

“Huma, beyond!”

Just over the hill, and marching steadily along, was the ogre army. The land was literally crawling with ogres, their human allies, goblins, and a few unidentifiables—experiments of the mages, no doubt. Things with too many arms, too many legs—even too many heads and trunks.

The very air ripped apart as he watched, and Huma had a glimpse of a place known to him only in nightmares and prayer. It was only a glimpse, but of a blackness so overwhelming, so ready to devour him, that he knew it could only be the Abyss.

They had that much strength. They had opened a rift in the mortal plane—and it would swallow him! Huma shook uncontrollably, and even the silver dragon wavered at that sight. The rip seemed to widen, giving them no place to run or hide. It came closer—then the power keeping the rift open crumbled as the renegades fell to the oncoming dragons of light. The mages had reached their limits in concentration; too many things were happening of too great importance. As the dragons attacked, first one, then another, then another, a few of the renegades stood to fight and died on the spot; the rest scattered, the link between them destroyed.

Behind them, the darkness dissipated. Things screeched in horror at the light. They had been bred in the darkness, perhaps even in the Abyss. Light to them was death. Their forms could not exist without the darkness; they faded away like dew, leaving no trace of their coming or going.

That would not, however, deter the massive force that marched even now toward the hill where the mages had scattered. The Dragonqueen’s commanders, lacking the imagination and daring of Crynus, were throwing all they had into the first battle.

The silver dragon turned to Huma again. “They are frightened, Huma. Not of us, but of Galan Dracos and the Dragonqueen, I think.”

“What can we do?”

“YOU CAN DIE.”

Behind him, Huma heard shouts and cries from the others. Before him, a figure hovered in mid-air with arms folded, smiling smugly from beneath a brown hood. He was tall, perhaps even taller than Huma, and slim, more like a well-trained knight than the mage he obviously was. Other than his reptilian smile, the floating spellcaster’s face was little more than a shadow.

“Galan Dracos.” Huma whispered the name to himself, but it was apparent the mage understood, for he cocked his head in acknowledgment of his identity.

“You are Huma. You look quite different when seen through human eyes. The one failing of the dreadwolves. One sees as they see.”

Huma could barely restrain himself from ordering the silver dragon to charge the floating figure. Here was the living embodiment of all that was evil.

Galan Dracos was smiling broadly. “You are wasting your time, good knight. True, those lances are an advantage over the dragons, but you have—pardon, had—only twenty, and there are far too many dragons. See for yourself.” The mage indicated the horizon behind him.

Huma squinted. A dark mass was coming up over the horizon. At first he thought it to be another spell of darkness. Then he saw that the mass was not one thing, but many large, flying creatures.

Dragons. The children of Takhisis. Hundreds of them.

Galan Dracos was still smiling when Huma turned to him. “With my dark lady’s aid, I have summoned them from all over Krynn. Every last one. Black, red, white, green—all the different dragons. They have been flying for days to come here, and they have almost arrived.”

Twenty lances—eighteen now. Eighteen against hundreds and hundreds of dragons. If only they had more lances . . .

“If you surrender now, there might still be a place for you. My mistress has been quite impressed with your ability to survive. If you would be willing to turn your talents to her, she would prove most—grateful.” The renegade smiled. “You’ve really seen only her warrior persona. She has other—talents—of equal wonder.”

Below him, the silver dragon gave an uncharacteristic hiss of fury, and Huma suddenly found himself closing in on the mage. Oddly, Dracos only laughed as the great leviathan leapt at him, jaws wide, claws foremost.

The jaws clamped harmlessly together.

“Illusion,” Huma muttered.

A mocking laugh seemed to hang in the air. The group hovered uncertainly, awaiting instructions from Huma. He continued to stare at the spot where the illusion of Galan Dracos had floated.

Unable to stand the waiting anymore, an unidentified knight behind Huma cried, “We’ve lost!”

“We have not lost until the last knight is dead. Derrick,” Bennett shouted at the man. He whispered to the gold dragon, who promptly moved him close enough so that he could speak to Huma without being overheard by the other riders. “What do we do now?”

Bennett asking him for guidance? If the whole situation had not been so tragic, Huma might have laughed. “Pull back. We must warn the Keep. With so few lances, we ought to circle Vingaard. Make the taking of it as costly a task as possible.”

“You’re giving up?”

“Not at all. For now, the defense of the Keep remains our best option.” Huma turned to the others. “Back to Vingaard!”

Huma tried to hide his own disappointment as they turned to flee the coming horde. The situation seemed hopeless.

Something bright glittered in his eyes then, and at first Huma thought it was the reflection of the sun. Only, he suddenly realized, there was no sun. What glittered in his eyes was a light with no visible source.

As Huma’s eyes focused on the tiny flickering light, it seemed to beckon. It was not exactly light, more a greenish glow. It reminded Huma of the glow emanating from the Sword of Tears.

The glow seemed to flutter earthward, and Huma hesitated. Huma drew the silver dragon’s attention to the glittering object.

“What do you make of it?”

“A messenger of some sort, but I suspect its maker wears black. Ignore it and a let us return before things worsen. I—I do not like it here.” She was acting strangely, Huma realized. She had been quiet and almost sullen since her attack on Dracos had failed. It had been Dracos’s comment on his mistress’s charms that had set her off, Huma realized. But why? Had the silver dragon been afraid that he would fall prey to such a false dream?

Huma took a deep breath—and shook his head. “Follow the light down.”

“Huma—”

“DO IT.” He had never spoken to her like that, but he did not think he could trust her reactions at this moment. The decision would be his.

“Huma!” Kaz called from ahead of them. Huma shook his head and pointed back toward the Keep, his face expressionless. The minotaur muttered something to Bolt, then turned to the others, to see what was happening. Kaz shouted something. Regardless, the massive easterner would wait with his dragon while the knight investigated whatever held his fascination.

With reluctance, the silver dragon began following the greenish glow downward. When they had reached the base of a particular hill, the greenish glow twinkled abruptly out of existence. The silver dragon landed, and Huma looked around expectantly.

“I come in peace. Knight of Solamnia.” The voice was low and grated on the ears. Its owner was the image of a short, wiry man with an oversized head and narrow, weasel-like features. Not a stitch of hair grew on his head.

He wore a black robe.

“A trick! I told you!” The silver dragon reared up, ready to defend Huma. The Black Robe cowered, though there was no fear in his eyes. Huma shouted until his companion quieted. He was becoming disturbed with her new restiveness.

“Hear me out,” grated the dark mage.

Huma stared sullenly at the Black Robe. “What do you have to say? I’ve already spoken with your master.”

The magic-user made a face. “There you touch on the point of this meeting. The renegade who has styled himself our master. That carrion!”

“You both serve the same mistress do you not?”

“Listen carefully. Knight of Solamnia, for I’ve no way of knowing when the cur will notice my absence. We need your agreement.”

“Mine?” Huma blinked. A Black Robe seeking aid from him?

“We know of you—through one who has worn many robes in his life and who even now wears another, in spirit if not in body.”

“Magius!” The knight leaped on the vague description. “Where?”

The spellcaster raised a hand to silence him. “No time for that. Listen. We know now that if the Dragonqueen is victorious, we will be no more to her than you are. Dracos has already become her mortal voice, and his world will seem one born from the Abyss itself. You have seen his abominations. Would you like to see them made permanent? We wish to join with you. Better to die fighting than to be forever at her mercy—and she will have a special place for both our orders, mark me.”

An offer of alliance . . . from a Black Robe? “How can I possibly believe you, one of her creatures?”

The mage straightened. “My first and foremost loyalty is to Nuitari, Dark Lord of Magic. We erred in believing we served him when we chose to serve—I will not call her his mother—let us say she who had given birth to him. Nuitari, though, cares for this world. That is why he, Lunitari, and—” The spellcaster hesitated at saying the name. “—even Solinari of the Light abandoned the struggle for Krynn and created the Orders of Sorcery as a separate entity, one that should work for the betterment of magic in the world. If Takhisis is victorious, Krynn will become little more than a cold rock among the stars. Our lord’s dream will perish. We cannot have that.”

“What do you want?”

“It is not so much what we want as what we can give.”

“Give?” The silver dragon, silent through much of this exchange, narrowed her eyes and laughed sarcastically. “A Black Robe gives nothing but misery and death.”

“An unjust falsehood. However, in this case, any misery and death we deal shall be aimed toward Dracos and his ragtag band—but we need an opening.”

“An opening? What do you mean?”

“I offer you this.” The mage held out a bony hand. In his palm rested a tiny green sphere. “Unless you can get close enough, you will never see the castle of Galan Dracos; it lies on the edge between our plane and the Abyss. With this, you will be able to locate it.”

The silver dragon scoffed. “Is there not the matter of your former mistress, the Dragonqueen? Is she to step idly aside while we charge the domain of her most trusted servant?”

The spellcaster indicated the Dragonlance. “I’m told that she has doubts about these. That she remains within the confines of the castle, near the path to the Abyss, because she fears the power of the Dragonlances.”

“Preposterous! Huma, I won’t let you . . .” The silver dragon turned as she spoke and froze at the look on his face. “Huma . . . you cannot believe this.”

The knight ignored her. “What will you do when we strike, assuming we do?”

“Within the castle, the remainder of the Black Guard and those renegades who willingly follow Dracos will be your greatest threat. We shall deal with them. If possible, we shall strive to turn away the dragons as well.”

“Madness!”

A shadow loomed above. All three looked up to see Kaz and Bolt hovering. The minotaur was shouting.

“Be quick! I see dragons scouting ahead.”

The mage quickly turned back to Huma. “By Nuitari, I swear that my name is Gunther and that you may trust me. Take it!”

The Black Robe had sworn by his lord. For the followers of Nuitari, the penalties for breaking oaths were ofttimes fatal. Huma reached down and accepted the small green sphere.

“We are with you.” The mage vanished abruptly. Huma kicked his mount gently. She spread her wings and began rising, relief evident on her features.

Kaz saw Huma’s closed fist and blinked. “What is it?” Huma stared at the approaching sea of destruction and thought how simple the spell of darkness seemed now. He glanced down at the hand that held the small sphere. “A desperate hope, at best, I think.”