The Legend of Huma

Chapter 27

“By the triumvirate! How much more can they possibly throw against us?”

Guy Avondale shook his head. “Evil always grows abundant when given the chance to take root. Melodramatic statement by my predecessor, but all too true.”

They stood in the courtyard where the dragons and their riders had landed. The loss of two of their elite number disturbed the Grand Master, as did news of yet another wave of evil rising toward them.

“What of this deal with the followers of Nuitari, Huma?” asked Bennett. “Can they be trusted, in your opinion?”

After deep thought, Huma finally answered. “I believe so.” He held up the tiny, emerald globe. It pulsated. “They gave this. Granted, it might be a means for them to draw us out so that we fall to them in the open field, but it was accompanied by an oath to the God of Dark Magic himself. No Black Robe with a desire to live will cross Nuitari.”

“I agree,” added the Grand Master. He sighed. “Well, we have quite a problem. We cannot possibly defend Vingaard for too long against a siege of this intensity. At the same time, it would be simple madness to go out and meet that horde.” He hesitated, then added, “I offered the dragons the chance to depart if they felt the cause was lost here.” Lord Oswal held up a hand to silence his anxious companions. “I had to ask. I believe, though, that they will stay with us until the end. We shall see. Where was I? Ah. We still do not know all about the east. The ogres are said to be stabilizing there. We can look for no help from the south—blast the elves! The north—water.”

“We have the fake Dragonlances,” interrupted Bennett. “Let us use them in one final assault. In the confusion of the foe, a few of them will buy time, if nothing else.”

Lord Oswal grunted and stared at the lances of the riders. “I think insanity rules the day, but unless there are other suggestions, we shall combine the epic charge my nephew so desperately craves with a coordinated search for and attack on the castle of Galan Dracos.” He looked around. No one, not even Lord Avondale, cleric and veteran soldier, could oppose the suicidal strategy.

Oswal shook his head. “If I am remembered at all, it will probably be as the Grand Master cursed for sending his men to the slaughter.”

A horn sounded.

“They’ve spotted the first wave,” someone said anxiously. Knights suddenly were moving all about. Horses were being readied and lined up. Row upon row of knights formed. Pikemen, lancers, bowmen, each and every type moved to assure that there was no disorder in this hour of peril.

“Break out the footmen’s lances!” shouted the Grand Master to one of his aides. The man saluted hastily and went to inform the squires, whose job it would be.

Huma wanted to order the remaining Dragonlancers into battle formation, but Lord Oswal prevented him. “No. If you hope to break through and make your way to the mountains, you’ll have to go when the dragons are engaged.”

“But the ground forces—”

“Will receive as much protection as they can get from the dragons. I—”

The horn sounded again, a different note this time.

“What in the name of Kiri-Jolith is that?” The Grand Master and the others hurried toward the front, where Lord Hawkeye was in direct command.

“Lord Hawkeye.” The ruling Knight of the Order of the Crown whirled.

“Grand Master, they’ve come to a halt, just in sight. Even the dragons have stopped. It’s as if they’re waiting for something. I’ve put everybody on standby.”

“Very good.” Huma held his breath until the Grand Master relaxed the evident strain on his face. “They are going to play with our minds. They want us to come charging out to meet them. The abysmal fools. We can’t be tricked into such an easy death!

“Let them sweat a little. Let them wait. When Galan Dracos or his mistress runs out of patience, then we will make our move.”

A gold dragon fluttered from a spire down to the courtyard. He was old, even for a dragon, for his hide was cracked and covered with ancient battle scars. There was no weakness in his form, though.

“I conveyed to the others your earlier offer.” The voice was deep and rumbling, a bit like the earth elemental that had served Magius.

The knights became silent.

Lord Oswal had hesitated, but now he asked, “And what was their response?”

The dragon gave him a look that could only be described as I-told-you-so. “We will not abandon you. Without Vingaard Keep, the outposts will not stand. This is the place of decision. Vingaard falls, then Ergoth falls, then the elfin lands and dwarven lands fall. The Queen rules all.”

“I only sought to keep the cause of Paladine alive if we failed here.”

“The cause for good will always live. Even Takhisis must know that.”

Despite the activity around them, it was as if all sound had ceased for the group. Huma understood that the dragons had committed themselves to a battle to the death. For the sake of their human allies. For the sake of their belief in the teachings of Paladine.

The Grand Master did something unprecedented then. He went down on one knee and paid homage, not to that particular dragon, but to all of its kind. With the way to freedom open, they were remaining.

“Thank you. I hoped—but one never knows.”

The gold dragon gave a majestic nod, spread his lengthy wings, and departed skyward. The Grand Master watched quietly, then turned at a new sound. Squires bearing the simulated Dragonlances for footmen rushed toward the assembled knights. Huma stared at the lances that were removed from the boxes. How they glowed! It was as if ...

“Milord!” Huma surprised himself as he interrupted the Grand Master.

“Yes, Huma?”

“If you’ll excuse me, there are some things I must prepare.”

“Then go.”

“Kaz.” Huma pulled the minotaur aside. “Retrieve one of the lances the squires are passing out and compare it to one of the real Dragonlances.”

“What—” The minotaur got no further.

“I’ll explain when I return.” Huma rushed away, leaving the minotaur to puzzle over his comrade’s request.

The smithy itself was only a short distance away, just out of sight of the Grand Master and the others.

Even as Huma approached it, the massive wooden doors swung forward and Huma stepped back quickly, coming face-to-face with a stranger.

“It would be best to avoid standing near doors if you do not wish to injure yourself.” The newcomer had silver-black hair and a narrow, long head. His eyes seemed to burn for a moment, and Huma was reminded of the figure who had stared at Gwyneth the one night when they had walked the courtyard. She had been afraid of that man. This could not be the same person, though. This one was taller and thinner. But the eyes . . .

“You are Huma of the Lance,” the stranger decided. His eyes were piercing.

“I am Huma.” The knight was no bard’s hero that he should carry a title such as that.

“The master smith has been busy, but I think he can spare a bit of time for you.” The smile was odd, so alien that Huma shivered. What was he reminded of?

Voices carried from inside. Both were familiar, but one especially so.

“—Can you give me no advice?”

“—I have been away from the world of men much too long—and my time on Krynn is almost done. Best you should seek one of your own.”

“—None of them understand! How am I to tell him that I am not what he thinks I am? That I have flown with him nearly every day without him realizing it? Do you think he could love me if he knew I—we—”

There was little light, save around the forge, and that only served to silhouette the two figures standing there.

“Gwyneth?”

The one figure, female, turned at his voice, uttered a gasp, and fled through the rear doorway. Huma made to follow, but the remaining figure blocked his way and greeted him heartily.

“Huma! How good it is to see you one last time!” Duncan Ironweaver lifted him high, shook him like a babe, and set him down again. Huma glanced behind the towering smith, but there was no sign of where Gwyneth had gone.

“You actually thought I’d leave you with only twenty lances? Lad, you surprise me!”

“Then they are real! It isn’t my imagination!”

“Not hardly! I had many, many more than twenty, but not situated near. Besides, you would never have been able to bring them all back. Too many of her spies about. Besides,” he smiled, “I needed the trip.”

“And the smithy . . .”

Duncan Ironweaver indicated the work area. “They were in need of a master armorer and weaponry expert. I bent the truth a little and said you had summoned me from the south—which, in a sense, you did. They were understandably impressed with my work and let me take over. Soon it was just me and my assistants.”

“It’s—it’s incredible!” All this time, real Dragonlances were being created in the smithy.

The huge smith tapped his chest. “You’ve proved to them that the Dragonlances work, Huma. I don’t think even your illustrious Grand Master realizes just how many of those men believe in the lances.”

Huma’s mind began to spin. “Saddles! We’ll need more saddles.”

“Khildith!”

For the first time, Huma noticed the smith’s assistants. An elf, a human, and the dwarf who was evidently Khildith, as it was he who stepped forward.

“Master Ironweaver?”

“Are the saddles ready?”

The dwarf broke into a grin much like the smith’s. The dwarf was well-whiskered and, though he appeared quite ancient, moved with the speed and grace of one in his prime. “More than enough to go around.”

“Fine, fine.” Duncan Ironweaver walked over to Huma and put a hand on his shoulder. The knight felt himself politely but forcibly being steered away.

“Master Ironweaver. One question. Gwyneth—”

“That’s between you and her.” The change in expression on the smith’s face was enough to quiet Huma. “Remember, you have the lances now. Make use of them.”

Huma was out the door before he could say goodbye. The one-armed smith flexed his mechanical limb. “Paladine be with you, lad. Even the lances cannot help you if you truly lose faith.”

The horn sounded a new warning. Huma bolted. All other questions receded in the face of battle. The Dragonlances were real!

Kaz met him, carrying a footman’s lance in each hand. “Is this some trick, Huma? I’d swear—”

“They’re real! They’re all real! Where’s Lord Oswal?”

The minotaur used one of the lances as a pointer. “On the wall. He insisted on seeing it for himself.”

Huma turned and caught sight of Bennett organizing the riders. Huma hailed him. Bennett barked out one last order and then joined him.

“What is it?” Every muscle in the face of the Grand Master’s nephew was alive. Bennett was in his element and unconsciously reveling in it.

“The Dragonlances—they’re all real!”

The other knight looked at him quizzically. “Of course they’re real.”

Huma hesitated. Bennett had never been told the original plan. No one at that time had known that Duncan Ironweaver was going to appear.

Bennett waited silently until Huma at last let the tale come tumbling out. The Knight of the Sword’s visage slowly froze into an unreadable mask. When Huma finally finished, the two stared at one another.

The predatory eyes of Bennett flickered to where the rank and file of the knighthood had gathered to await commands. His eyes quickly returned to Huma. “Was there anything else? I have much more to do.”

The flat, toneless words shocked Huma. He had expected anger and surprise, but nothing? “Bennett—”

His sentence was cut off by an unblinking look from the other. Bennett indicated the knights around them. “Does what you say make any real difference, Huma? Whether the Dragonlances existed or not, these men would still be readying for battle—despite the probable outcome. I would be first among them, as I think you would be, too. Any damage we create, any strength we cost them, even in defeat, is a victory of sorts.” He took a breath and some of the fanaticism faded from his eyes. “It does please me to have it reaffirmed that we will not go naked into the maw, but that is all. Tell them that the Dragonlances are of no use; they will still march out and give the enemy their all. Would you yourself act any different?”

The faith Bennett had always displayed in the past took on new meaning to Huma now. He knew that the other knight was correct in his assumptions, especially where Huma himself was concerned. No matter how terrible the odds, one of the first knights at the forefront would have been Huma.

“Now, if you will excuse me, there is much that still needs to be done. You should find my uncle up there.” Bennett indicated a portion of the front wall to their right. “I think he’ll be happy to hear your news.”

Bennett walked off, shouting orders as he went and acting as if the conversation had never happened. Huma stirred and hurried off toward the walls.

At the top of the wall, the Grand Master was standing on an observation ledge.

Lord Oswal heard him approach and glanced his way. When he saw it was Huma, he said, “There’s movement over here. Something is forming in the sky.”

It was only a small blot in an overcast sky, far beyond the oncoming army, but once sighted, it held the viewer’s attention as nothing else in the heavens could. Huma felt as if a part of him were being wrenched toward that blot, as if his soul itself was being drawn to it. He caught his breath and tore his eyes away.

“What is it?”

The Grand Master shook his head. “I don’t know, but it drives the dragons and ogres toward us, I think.”

Huma recalled his reason for coming here and quickly informed Oswal of what he had discovered.

The elder knight acted even before Huma had finished. To his aides he shouted, “Alert all commanders! The dragons! Someone must alert the dragons! Have the ranks ready themselves!”

Turning back toward the oncoming horde, Lord Oswal shook his head. Even as they watched, the dragons of darkness were beginning to pull ahead of the ground forces. They would be here much too soon.

“Milord,” Huma said urgently, “let me take the original riders. We will delay the enemy while the others prepare. Send them up in groups of twenty, but have them wait above the Keep until their numbers are great. Then send them out, followed by the footmen. If we gain control of the air, the ground will also be ours.”

“You’ll be dead!”

The younger knight hesitated—only for a second. “Then I will have given my life over to Paladine, as any knight should do.”

Oswal nodded wearily. Huma hurried back down, wondering just how long it would take to gather the others. To his surprise, however, he found them all waiting, riders seated and lances at the ready. In the short time they had been together, the group had become one entity. The silver dragon was there, too, waiting for Huma’s orders.

In the deadly calm that can occur before battle, Huma stood before his assembled band and explained the danger of their mission and the likely outcome. He expected opposition, voices of dry logic that would tear down his plan. Instead, he was stunned to discover that they believed in what he proposed, though their lives might be forfeit. Bennett nodded in approval and even some of the dragons indicated their agreement. Oddly, only his own mount gave no response. She appeared withdrawn, though she also made no protest when he climbed onto her back. When he gave the signal to depart, she obeyed with speed and coordination, if not enthusiasm.

Once in the air, Kaz and Bolt edged closer. “We shall make them remember us well, before we perish. Mark me on that, Huma.”

“We must seek out Dracos,” Huma replied. “He is the key to everything.”

“He and his dark mistress.”

Huma nodded.

When they were high up, Lord Avondale, who was peering to the southwest, suddenly pointed. “Look there!” he shouted. “Do you see anything?”

Bolt was the first to reply. “It is another army. The enemy grow even stronger!”

Avondale laughed at that. “It is we,” he shouted, “who grow even stronger!”

It was the northern Ergothian army. Knowing that only defeat and slavery awaited them if the knighthood fell, they were risking all in the hope of making a lightning strike at the foe from the rear. That they had not been noticed thus far by the servants of Takhisis was good fortune, indeed.

“How long before the others will be aloft?” shouted Avondale.

“Not long.” It was Bennett who shouted the response, for which Huma was grateful. He would not have wanted to guarantee anything at this point.

Even as they spoke, the group was moving closer to intercept the first of the dragon scouts. They kept in tight formation, knowing too well that individually they would be cut down.

It seemed that the dark dragons realized their intentions, for some moved accordingly. Others, however, were obviously of different opinions as to what the knights were capable of and broke away from the rest, speeding toward their enemies. Huma could not help smiling briefly. As the evil dragons bared teeth and claw and challenged the newcomers, he realized that they did not believe in the strength of the Dragonlances.

All but a few of the attackers perished in minutes; most of them skewered themselves on the lances of Huma and his companions. Two more died before Huma signaled for his band to allow the survivors to escape. They would bring their terror to the other dragons who had waited.

Huma glanced briefly at his comrades. Kaz was flushed and full of life; Bolt could barely restrain himself from chasing the survivors. Lord Avondale stared toward his army. Buoron was quiet and almost expressionless. His arm had healed, and he was keeping the Dragonlance as steady as he could.

Scores of manned dragons came to meet them. Red, black, green, and blue. White dragons also charged, but they were without riders and Huma suspected they were to be fodder, for they worked more by animal cunning than intelligence, and this environment was not suited for them at all. Though smaller than the other dragons, they could be deadly, and their presence would buy an advantage for the Dragonqueen.

Below, the course of the two armies had altered. The Ergothians were forming a long, wide line, and the southern portion of the ogre forces was turning to meet this new threat. The northern half, having yet to learn of the attack, began to pull away, leaving the middle to scatter about as warriors sought proper orders. Confusion seemed to be spreading.

Now! Huma shrieked in his head. We should be attacking now! Of course, the knights in the Keep could not see the Ergothian army. But they most certainly saw the splintering of the ogres and realized that something to their benefit was occurring. How long before they reacted?

Then, the tiny group of lancers met the first of the seemingly endless waves of foes and there was no time to think of anything but survival.

At first, dragons seemed to appear and disappear each time Huma blinked. There were screams all about him. It became as black as the Abyss and as bright as the sun, for the dragons unleashed their various magics, and riders, some of whom were clerics or sorcerers, added their own powers to the battle.

As the silver dragon dodged a blow from an attacker, Huma saw one of the lancers and his mount fall prey to a band of at least six dragons. Rider and mount vanished beneath the terrible power of the creatures, and it was all Huma could do not to scream at the brave deaths. In the chaos, he could not identify who had perished.

They were becoming separated. Kaz and Bolt still remained with Huma and the silver dragon. At one point, the knight heard the powerful voice of Guy Avondale as he shouted something.

A fearsome black bearing one of the Black Guard came diving from above. Huma shouted at the silver dragon, but she was hopelessly engaged with a red dragon who was pushing the Dragonlance deeper and deeper into his own shoulder, too furious to even realize it. The knight pulled out his sword, useless against such a dragon, and prepared himself for the impact.

Suddenly there was a silver streak, and a sleek dragon intercepted the black. There was a rider on the silver dragon’s back, and Huma realized it was Buoron. The other knight already had been struck more than once; blood stained his armor and his mount.

Pain! Huma fell back as something sent shockwaves through his left leg. He stared down at blood flowing from a deep wound. The leg twitched and the shockwaves continued to assault his mind. Through tear-covered eyes, he caught sight of an ogre straddling a dragon. With strength beyond that of a human, the ogre had attacked with an ax and his blow had been lucky.

Huma deflected another blow from the ogre, but felt himself unable to concentrate. The pain demanded too much.

To his relief, the silver dragon was at last able to push away her own adversary. The red, weakened by the loss of so much blood from so many wounds, fluttered helplessly toward the ground, taking his hapless rider with him.

“Huma!”

It took him a few moments to realize the silver dragon was calling to him. She looked at him with eyes filled with terrible fear—and not for herself. He had seen eyes like that before, but—

His thoughts were interrupted by a renewal of cries from all around. His first thought was that this was the end, that more dragons were coming to join the ones already attacking the small band.

He was wrong. The dragons he saw as he looked up and around were gold, silver—all the bright metallic colors of the dragons of Paladine. There were more than one hundred, and each had a rider and a knight, armed with a lance that gleamed brightly and aimed true. Dragonlances.

There was mass confusion among the dark dragons. If they had been told anything, they had been told that there were but a handful of Dragonlances. The nearest of the dragons perished without raising claws in defense, so disbelieving were they.

Huma put a hand to his brow and came away with blood—his own. He wondered when that had happened and how.

Thinking of injuries, he again looked down at his leg. The blood was flowing freely still, and he knew he would pass out soon if he didn’t do something to stop it. The silver dragon began to pull away from the fighting.

More and more dragons were coming from the Keep. How many Dragonlances had the smith made?

The silver dragon flew as if pursued by the Dark Queen herself. She would glance back in his direction every now and then, that same fearful look in her eyes. He frowned and clamped his hands against the leg wound in order to stanch the flow.

At last, they flew over the Keep walls, narrowly avoiding another set of lancers rising, and she brought him to where other survivors of his band were being treated.

“Take him from me!” The dragon’s voice was so commanding, so harsh, that no one dallied. Huma lost sight of her and the world as a whole.

When he awoke, Gwyneth was over him, cleaning the wound, touching it with her hands in a way that deadened the pain. He could almost feel power flowing from her fingertips. Her face was pale and covered partially by her hair as she leaned over the leg.

Huma’s eyes wandered. They were on a hill, away from the fighting, but not so far that they could no longer hear the sounds of battle. Avondale was there, his left side a bloody mess. Kaz was nowhere to be seen. Of the original band, only nine remained. Bennett, uninjured but looking as if he and his armor had been dragged across the plains, was staring at Gwyneth with an emotion somewhere between revulsion and fascination. His eyes briefly met Huma’s, then turned swiftly away.

“Buoron is dead, Huma,” Oswal’s nephew finally said, his gaze still on Gwyneth. “The last I saw, he and his dragon took on that black one to save you. They perished.”

This last shook not only Huma, but Gwyneth as well. She removed her hands from the wound and cried in them. Huma reached out and touched her arm.

“It’s not Buoron she weeps for—” Bennett was having trouble finding the right words.

“Let it be, Bennett.” Guy Avondale tried to rise.

“Huma!” Bolt flew into sight, with Kaz waving his battle ax in greeting. Both dragon and minotaur were covered with scratches and minor wounds, but neither seemed to be weakened by them. Huma glanced at them only momentarily, then his eyes returned to Gwyneth. She looked away. He continued to stare at her, even when he finally responded to Bennett’s statement.

“What do you mean, Bennett? What are you trying to say?”

The hawklike features of Bennett swerved toward the Ergothian cleric/commander, “Everyone else saw it. Why hide it? If she cannot tell him, someone surely will. He needs to know. I know how he feels about her.”

“It is between them!” Avondale was furious.

“Stop it.”

The words were from Gwyneth. She rose, all the while staring at Huma. Her arms hung limply by her side.

Avondale slumped back suddenly. He glanced at Bennett and Kaz. “You two, help me up. A chill is coming over me. I need to move somewhere less open.”

Reluctantly, Kaz and Bennett helped him rise, and the three moved off.

Gwyneth finally spoke. “I weep for Buoron. I weep for any who fall fighting the Dragonqueen.”

“As have I.”

She tried to smile. “I weep especially for the dragon Buoron rode, the large silver one.”

Brother to his own, Huma recalled. Why would Gwyneth cry so for this one dragon?

She stared moodily around. The area had been emptied. As Huma looked puzzled, her features softened. “Before I tell you this, know that I love you, Huma. I would never do anything to harm you.”

“I love you too.” The words seemed to flow so easily all of a sudden.

“I think you may change your mind,” she said enigmatically.

Huma did not have time to ask what she meant, for Gwyneth was suddenly aglow—almost like the Dragonlances. As he watched in horrid fascination, her face elongated and her nose and mouth grew into a toothy snout. Huma thought of witchery and rose to help her, but his leg was not well yet and the head wound had not been salved. He slumped to the ground.

Her long, slim arms grew even longer—and more muscular. The small hands twisted and turned, becoming terrible claws. She fell onto all fours and seemed to grow and grow and grow. Something wiggled and moved on her back. She was no longer remotely human, and what she did resemble caused the knight to shake his head again and again and again.

Her garments vanished—to Paladine knows where—but she had no more need of them in her present form. The odd wiggling and moving on her backside came from two great humps that burst open, revealing batlike wings. They spread wide, and in moments the transformation was complete. The thing that had been Gwyneth stepped forward, tall, straight—and frightened.

It was a dragon—a silver dragon.

His own.