The Legend of Huma

Chapter 30

Galan Dracos folded his arms and stared at the knight. His thin lips were curled in a smile like a scavenger. The renegade mage reached up and pulled back the hood of his cloak so that his face was fully visible. His hair, thin and straggly, was plastered to his skull and formed a widow’s peak on his forehead. The head itself was elongated, almost inhuman. The mage reached out and patted the bone-white head of one of a pair of dreadwolves that flanked him; the motion revealed long, bony fingers ending in talons.

“And so, we come to the end. I would have wanted it no other way. You had to be here to see my triumph . . . the ultimate triumph.”

“You knew I was here?”

“The followers of Nuitari do him no credit. They are so caught up in their self-importance that they do not realize what one can do when unconstrained by the laws set by those fools running the Conclave of the Three Orders. I wouldn’t look for support from them.”

As Dracos spoke, Huma was gauging his options—and there were not many. A plan born of desperation filtered through his mind. Huma took a step back and held his free hand over the great sphere in which the knight, only moments before, had faced the vision of the Dragonqueen. “One motion and I shatter this. Where will your dreams be then?”

“They would literally fall to pieces—if you could indeed break the globe. I offer you the opportunity to try.”

Huma struck the top of the emerald sphere as hard as he could. His gauntleted hand bounced off. There was not even a single scratch on the globe.

“You see?”

Huma nodded and allowed his free hand to fall casually to his belt.

“I think—” was all Galan Dracos managed to say before Huma pulled out a sharp blade and threw it directly at the mage.

The dagger flew with accuracy. Yet, the renegade merely raised a finger and the blade slowed, arched—and blew back toward Huma. The knight dove forward and tumbled down the steps of the crystalline platform. The knife bounced off the huge green sphere and fell with a clatter to the floor.

“Pathetic. I had expected more of you after all this.” Before Huma could steady himself, Dracos snapped his fingers. The knight suddenly was gripped from behind by massive hands seemingly made of stone. He struggled, trying to pry apart the thick, monstrous fingers. The unseen menace did not waver, and Huma’s armor began to dig into his flesh.

“Against that wall.” Dracos pointed.

Huma was whirled around and lifted up. Something cold and rocky caught hold of each wrist and then his ankles. The knight was trapped.

The rapid, precise movements had given Huma no opportunity to glimpse the mage’s servant. Suddenly, Huma could see with dismay that his captor had actually been one of the gargoyles lining the room. As Huma watched, the gargoyle slowly returned to its niche. Over his shoulder, Huma could see that another gargoyle, little more than arms, held him tight against the wall.

“I see you admire my handiwork.” Dracos stepped closer, and the captive knight saw that a thin layer of scales covered much of his face. The renegade was almost reptilian in appearance, and Huma found himself wondering just how much of his humanity the mage surrendered for his power.

“To be fair, I underestimated you in the beginning. I thought you only a pawn of Magius, a former friend he once more found useful. Imagine my surprise to discover that not only weren’t you a pawn, but our mutual friend actually trusted you.”

Talk of Magius made Huma struggle, but the paws of the gargoyle permitted him no slack. He glared helplessly at the renegade, who only beamed in greater satisfaction.

“He renounced everything he had done, you know. I doubt there was a whiter robe in all of Krynn in those last few days. Pity. You should have heard the screams. My—assistants—can be imaginative. I had to punish one for overenthusiasm. He would have killed our friend.” The renegade chuckled. “I do so hate to discourage imagination, though. Not that it mattered by then. I fear that Magius was not really with us after that. He began to talk to himself—childhood things, I gather. It annoyed my servants to no end. He paid no attention to their fine work. In fact, he didn’t speak again until you and I met. You must have meant a great deal to him for him to come back from whatever safe haven he had thrust his mind into.” Dracos shrugged. “Enough talk of the past. Let us deal now with the future—for those of us who still have one.”

Huma smiled back at the mage, though his mind raced with worry. “The dragons are defeated; your renegades are defeated; Crynus and most of his Black Guard are dead. Before the day is through, the ogres will be retreating. You’ve lost. Within a few weeks, the war will be only a memory.”

The eyes of Dracos flared, and Huma saw he had struck a nerve. When the spellcaster spoke again, his voice was rough, angry.

“Correct on all counts save one. The ogres will retreat; they are bullies at heart, and bullies are cowards. They are fodder, nothing more, and they would be quite surprised to know what little importance they would have in my world.”

“Your world?”

“My world—as voice of my mistress, Takhisis, of course.” Dracos executed a flawless, courtly bow.

“You have no army.”

“That was the trouble with Crynus. He saw everything as a battle. Even when he conceded the benefits of my powers, he saw them only as the means to his own ends.”

Galan Dracos had crossed over to the dark crystalline platform and was now at the top, practically caressing the sphere. The emerald glow from it lit his face, making him look like a long-dead corpse. Huma shuddered involuntarily.

“The intensity of my power comes from my followers, both willing and unwilling. When the Black Robe, Sagathanus, found me, this was what interested him at first. I was a fool at that time, keeping no more than a few of the locals under my control—I actually had some sentiment for the foul place because it had been my place of birth.” He looked up at Huma. “Have you ever heard of Culthairai? No? I am not surprised. It’s a tiny farm province in the midst of Istar. Other than oats, the only thing of value they can sell are a few strong backs for mercenary troops. Imagine! The greatest mage who will ever exist—born in a worthless province!”

“It must have been terrible for you.” Huma surprised himself with the comment.

The reptilian features twisted into a harsh smile. “How true. No one else has been able to appreciate that. I imagine it is because you found yourself growing up under similar circumstances.”

Dracos, it seemed, had learned much about him.

It was left for you. The sudden clarity of that thought overwhelmed Huma. It was not his own. Rather, it almost sounded like Magius . . . What had been left for him?

Sensing something, one of the dreadwolves trotted over to him and sniffed. Its smell of decay sickened Huma.

For his part, Dracos stared at something within the sphere, something that perhaps only he could see.

The sound of long, leathery wings caused both to look up. Cyan Bloodbane had returned without his master’s permission. The look in the young green dragon’s eyes spoke of fear.

“Master Galan! The ogres begin to break! My brethren flee in panic—the cowards! What shall we do?”

Dracos was actually jubilant. “The time has come. The level of chaos is at a peak unprecendented since before the Age of Dreams.” To the anxious dragon he replied, “Leave us! I will not have your stench fouling this room at such a time!”

The young dragon departed in haste. Dracos summoned the two dreadwolves, who began to shiver uncontrollably.

Huma watched with disgust and amazement. He could actually see the life essence—if that was what one called it—depart from the two ghoulish abominations. They did not even struggle. Galan Dracos removed his hands from the two gaunt, motionless forms. The dreadwolves crumbled to ash.

“Fear is Chaos. War is Chaos. Chaos is unlimited power. It is a power that even the gods respect. Do you understand?”

Huma blinked. In his morbid fascination over the destruction of the two dreadwolves, he had not been listening. “What are you going to do?”

“This.” The mage stroked the globe. “This is the key to creating a conduit between our plane and the Abyss. A portal or gateway to the Dragonqueen’s domain beyond. Understand this: When gods come to the mortal plane—I mean truly come to the mortal plane—they are but shadows of their true selves. Which is not to say that they are weak. Far from it. However, their counterparts have them at a disadvantage.”

The knight’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Which is why the Dragonqueen has never been far from the gateway she has created. She fears that Paladine will strike at her during some moment of crisis. Now, though, you have created a way that she can draw upon her full strength even while on our world.”

Galan Dracos tensed, then smiled coldly. A tremor seemed to shake the citadel, but the mage paid it no mind. “You are more astute than I thought. Still, the small matter of your interference will be history before long.”

Almost! A vague image flickered into and out of Huma’s memory.

“Consider yourself honored. You are about to witness an event that will change all of Krynn!”

With that remark, the great emerald sphere flared with stronger intensity. Galan Dracos pulled his hood forward again and summoned a pale, bone-colored staff from thin air.

Huma’s eyes focused completely on the renegade’s staff. That was the key! The staff of Magius. Dropped by his companion after his capture by the Black Guard. Dropped? Left behind by its owner, more likely. Magius easily could have summoned it at any time just the way Galan Dracos had summoned his own.

What was he supposed to do though? Where was it now?

The torches flickered as the renegade raised high his own staff. He seemed to be drawing the flames to him. The chamber grew darker.

‘Takhisis, great queen, mistress of the dark, the time has come to fully open the portal! The time has come to let your full power flow from your domain into this one!’

The staff of Magius was temporarily forgotten. Huma watched in horror as the wall behind the sphere began to warp and twist, as some mad dreamscape. Then, slowly, that part of the building seemed to completely fall away.

It was not the mountains, though, that stood revealed by the spell. Rather, it was a dark and chaotic landscape that seemed to spill into a gaping, endless pit from which no light could escape.

Even as Huma watched, the landscape changed again. It was wooded now, but the trees were either dead or dying, and they were as black as night.

Next, it became a burning desert from which the bones of forgotten travelers protruded. Within moments, it was a veritable sea of bones.

“What is it?” Huma thought he knew, but he hoped that the mage would deny it.

Galan Dracos turned from the maddening scene and stared through narrowed eyes at the knight. “That is the domain of my mistress—that is the Abyss.”

“It keeps changing.”

“It is your mind that is perceiving changes. The Abyss is based on one’s experiences. In this case, yours. I have learned to control such unconscious thoughts.”

Galan Dracos stepped down from the platform and approached Huma, who struggled vainly. The citadel shook again, but Dracos seemed still unaware of it. He reached up a taloned hand to the knight’s forehead.

“You needn’t worry.” The renegade’s tone was patronizing. “I have neither the time nor the power to spend on you. I’m simply going to block your thoughts from the Abyss. Like putting up a wall.”

Huma’s head was knocked back by a percussive force. For a brief moment, all thought vanished. Soon, Dracos was atop the platform again. He tapped his ivory staff twice and began muttering in some magical tongue. The emerald sphere gleamed like a miniature sun. The castle shook again.

“The bond with the Abyss is secure!” the renegade shouted out triumphantly. Something glimmered within the globe. Dracos caused his staff to vanish and put both hands on the glowing artifact. He stared into it, oblivious to the near-blinding light. The muttering renewed,

Huma summoned the staff by thought.

He could not say whether the thought was his own or, as he half-believed, that of the vengeful spirit of Magius. He only knew that he had to concentrate on calling the staff of the dead mage, and he had to do it now.

So simple—now that he knew. One minute his hands were empty, the next his left held the compacted version of the staff. His eyes suddenly widened as he felt a quiver in the palm that clutched the magic item. As if moving with a life of its own, it turned in his hand and tapped the stone claw that held his wrist.

The gargoyle released his wrist.

Galan Dracos was still facing the sphere. His hands were outstretched as if imploring some private god.

Huma freed his right wrist.

Dracos shouted incomprehensibly. The glow from the globe had spread to encompass the mage. He was taller now. Huma stared at the sphere. Energy seemed to swirl chaotically within it. The citadel shook violently this time.

“No!” This time, Dracos seemed to be talking to someone else. “The flow is too great! I need to draw more power or the energy will overwhelm me!”

Huma did not understand the words, but he knew he had to break the link between the planes. If Takhisis was drawing on that power—

This time, the tremor was so violent that several gargoyles tipped forward and smashed on the floor. Galan Dracos’s expression did not change when he saw that Huma was free; he only muttered something under his breath and then immediately returned his attention to his spell.

The moment Huma was free, the staff, as if alive, began to stretch and widen. It was growing as it had before.

Gargoyles were suddenly stepping from their niches, creating a hodgepodge collection of monstrosities that all had one thing in mind—the death of Huma.

Having been trained in the quarterstaff, Huma found the mage’s staff effective as such a weapon. Each touch sent sparks flying, and the gargoyles might as well have been made of butter for the way it cut through them. Still, a severed limb or decapitation was not sufficient to stop even one of the creatures. They came at him from all directions, and Huma knew the renegade would never run out of unliving servants. Nevertheless, he fought with all his determination and faith in Paladine.

Huma knew he needed only one good swing at Dracos, but the gargoyles were pressing him in from all sides and the staff was virtually useless at such close quarters. Unless something happened, he had only seconds left before the crush of stone creatures brought him down.

“Huuuuummaaa!”

The voice came from above, shouting down even the reverberations of the citadel. What was Dracos doing? Did he need to bring down the mountains themselves?

“Huuuummaaa!”

Huma could see her now.

“Gwyneth!”

She spied him and spiraled down even as a gargoyle knocked the staff from Huma’s hand. The silver dragon roared and struck out at the nearest of the stone creatures. They shattered into sand. She flew up, around, and then back down to attack once more. Several of the gargoyles were turning away from Huma to attack this new foe. Gwyneth found herself being dragged down by the combined weight of four of the animals who had attached themselves to her underside. Roaring more from annoyance than pain, she whirled as best she could in the wide chamber in an attempt to throw the gargoyles from her. They clung tight, though, and she was forced to fly upward and out of the room in order to shake them off.

Even so, the silver dragon had bought Huma time. He grabbed the staff of Magius and whirled again, eliminating the nearest attacker with his first swing. The others attempted to close once more.

Several figures came rushing toward the room. Black Guard. The ebony-armored figures paused in the archway and gaped at what they saw.

Huma glimpsed the mad gaze of Dracos as he briefly turned toward his soldiers. A light much like the glow of the emerald sphere glittered in his eyes. He spoke a single word, the strain of even that causing him to flinch.

A thin, deadly bolt of green energy originating from the globe whipped toward the unsuspecting warriors with frightening speed. It split into two and then into four separate bolts before it was halfway to them. Belatedly, the guardsmen realized their plight and turned to run. Four did not even have time to move. They were harpooned like fish by the bolts of energy and dragged into the chamber. Huma shivered. The spell seemed to be as much in control of Galan Dracos as he was of the spell. The knight doubted the renegade really even knew what he had done. All that mattered to Dracos now was the power.

The other guardsmen fled. From his vantage, Huma watched helplessly as another bolt issued forth, this time at him.

It slammed into his chest, the very force of it spilling over to strike a host of the gargoyles. At first, Huma felt his energy literally being drained from him. Then something repelled the parasitic bolt and sent it writhing back into the emerald globe. Huma felt his chest and discovered the medallion given to him by Avondale. A medallion for a cleric of Paladine.

“Huma! The castle is breaking up!”

A gargoyle fell to its knees. Another simply collapsed. Huma turned to find himself facing Galan Dracos. The renegade had a crazed look on his already inhuman face.

“I—I will bend—bend it to my will! I am Dracos, greatest mage ever to live!”

The mage revealed his staff again and tapped it on the platform three times. “Shurak! Gestay Shurak Kaok!”

The gargoyles had lost all semblance of life. As they collapsed around Huma, the silver dragon materialized again and flew to him. Dracos made no move toward them, did not even see them. Instead, he was grinning at the heavens. His form coursed with energy.

“I have done it, mistress! The power is mine!”

So caught up in his apparent triumph, the renegade did not see the image that formed in the emerald sphere. A mocking face, an inhuman face. Even as Huma watched, the face within the globe split and became two. Then three. The faces twisted, became reptilian. Dragons. Five heads at least. All mocking.

“Huma, we must leave!”

“I cannot!” Huma stared at the Dragonlances that Gwyneth carried. They were too awkward for his purposes. Even the footman’s lance was unwieldy. Then his eyes came to rest on the staff of Magius. An impulse came to him.

He hefted the staff. Words he could not understand flowed from his mouth, and the staff was suddenly luminous. He threw it with all his might.

The staff missed Galan Dracos, but neither was he the target. Instead, the staff, so much like a spear, flew with perfect accuracy at the very center of the glowing sphere. It seemed to hesitate when the tip made contact with the artifact, but then it continued through, shattering all resistance.

“Don’t look!” Huma cried to Gwyneth.

The emerald sphere exploded with a roar.

The citadel shook—and the chamber tipped—as the castle felt the impact of the artifact’s destruction.

“Huma!” The silver dragon nudged him. “We must flee! Hurry!”

He regained his footing, partially clutching one of her wings. A quick glance showed him that the platform was being engulfed in a greenish inferno that seemed to cover the entire wall.

From without, something roared.

“Paladine!” he whispered. It could not be! Huma could imagine only one creature that could emit such a deafening, earth-shaking cry. A dragon. A giant dragon. A titan with five heads, he suspected. Takhisis.

“Yyyyoooouuu!”

Huma forgot the roar and whirled back to the blaze where this new cry had originated.

Something slowly emerged from the emerald fire. It blazed but did not burn. It walked on two legs but was no longer human in any way. It raised a taloned claw that had once been a hand. A demonic face with twisted features, like some distorted serpent, was evident under the torn and tattered remains of a hood.

“Hhhuuuuummmaaaaa!”

Galan Dracos stumbled forward.

“I will see you dead!”

Something with tendrils shot out toward him—and was daunted by what momentarily seemed a silver shield. Galan Dracos took a step back.

“You have your—your patron as well! Pity it is too late for Krynn!” The face twisted.

Huma took a step forward. Gwyneth began to protest, but the knight stared her into silence. Then he slowly began to walk toward the mad mage.

“Too many people have perished because of you, Galan Dracos. As Paladine as my witness, I cannot allow you to remain free. It must end here.”

When Dracos finally spoke, his voice was under control. He stared off into the distance.

“Yes. It will end here. With the victorious—with my treachery unmasked. I have gambled and I have lost.” Dracos turned back to Huma and then seemed to shrug.

The renegade stumbled back to the edge of the inferno. His legs could barely walk anymore. He relied more and more on his staff.

Huma came purposefully toward him. “I cannot let you go.”

The deformed mage laughed, a laugh that seemed to go on much too long. The eyes of Galan Dracos were narrow slits that gleamed. “I’ll not wait for the Queen’s justice. I prefer oblivion to that. She shall not have my damned spirit to toy with for eternity.”

Galan Dracos, master mage, renegade, spoke a single word.

The emerald flames engulfed him. Whatever immunity he had was discarded. Huma covered his eyes as the fire flickered more brightly. When he looked again, there was nothing remaining of the mage.

“He burned himself.”

“No.” The silver dragon shook her head. “He’s ceased to exist. It was that last spell he unleashed. It’s as if he never was. Before long, those who ever knew him will never remember—save his former mistress, I think.” She frowned. “He’s actually escaped from the Dragonqueen. Amazing.”

The citadel began to shift downward again.

“Huma!” Her momentary fascination faded immediately as Gwyneth realized the danger.

“Yes!” He began to climb atop her, then stopped. “No! The staff of Magius! I have to see—”

“Is that the small rod on your belt?”

He looked down. On his right side, stuck securely through his pouch belt, was a familiar, foot-long stick. “How—”

Gwyneth finally grew exasperated. “I will explain to you about magic some other day! Huma, as Paladine is my witness, I love you! I will not see you die here if I can help it!”

At those words, he scrambled clumsily aboard. Each moment she stayed risked her own existence—and for what? His hesitations, his fears.

Yet she loved him.

The silver dragon rose swiftly into the air.

“Lie flat against me—and hold the Dragonlance straight!” she cried.

The citadel continued to shift as it slid downward. The gargoyles were tossed like rags. Parts of the chamber began to break off. A portion of the upper passage collapsed. Now the silver dragon would not be able to escape through its narrow funnel.

Huma heard her shout something in one of the magical tongues. He heard masonry shatter, and then bits of rock flew by his head.

“Steady! This is it!”

He felt the Dragonlance as it cut into the thick, stone wall, enlarging the gap. Gwyneth’s wings folded back, and she glided up like an arrow shot from a bow. Huma knew she was shielding him with her own body as much as possible.

Then they were out. Huma realized he had been holding his breath, and exhaled. The silver dragon spiraled upward. From above, they could see that a green blaze now engulfed much of the castle.

What remained standing of the mage’s tower stood perched momentarily over the precipice. It weaved there, then slowly began to tip over. First the tower went, a great shaft that tipped forward and then plummeted over.

Huma turned his eyes up to the heavens. “Paladine!”

A new and greater darkness had come suddenly.

“Huma . . .” The silver dragon’s voice was unsteady.

He followed her gaze to the very top of the same peak that the citadel of Galan Dracos had fallen from. Something huge, multi-headed, and radiating evil gazed their direction.

Huma—Champion of Paladine. Come to me. Come to my embrace.

Takhisis.