The Legend of Huma

Chapter 4

War was meant to be swift and final. Takhisis, Queen of Darkness, Dragonqueen, had sent forth her children, her slaves, her warriors, her mages, and mystics in one great collective force. The focus of her attack was the Knights of Solamnia, for she saw in them the power and danger that the elves once had represented. The elves were now a shadow of their once-mighty strength; their self-exile from the outside world had sapped them of vigor. They could wait for her attention until the knighthood had been ground under.

Yet the knights had their own allies and, most important, the discipline and the organization that were sorely lacking from the Queen’s followers. The knights also had dedicated their lives to her eternal foe, Paladine.

It was said that Paladine himself had created the knighthood. Certainly it was true that Vinas Solamnus, the Ergothian commander who had turned against the tyranny of his emperor, introduced the Oath and Measure by which his soldiers would abide, but it was always his claim that he had stumbled across a grove on far-off Sancrist Isle—a place beyond the western shores of Ansalon itself—in which Paladine himself awaited. With his twin sons, the gods Kiri-Jolith and Habbakuk, Paladine had introduced Vinas Solamnus to the creation of a powerful force for good.

From Habbakuk came the Order of the Crown, which looked to loyalty as its greatest aspect. All new knights became members of this order, the better to learn to act in concert, to aid one’s comrades, and to follow faithfully the Oath and the Measure.

From Kiri-Jolith, god of just battle, came the Order of the Sword. Those who wished to, could choose to enter this order once they had proved themselves as members of the Crown. Honor was first and foremost to a Knight of the Sword. No hand was to be raised in unjust anger, no sword drawn because of personal jealousies.

Last, from Paladine himself, came the Order of the Rose. These were to be the elite, those knights who had so come to embrace the workings of Paladine that nothing mattered more. Wisdom and justice ruled their lives. From their ranks most often would be chosen the Grand Master, he who would command the knighthood overall.

Although it had never been so during the life of Vinas Solamnus, the Order of the Rose became the order of royalty. Whereas all knights laid claim to royal blood, the Order of the Rose was open only to those of the “purest” blood. No one ever defied this rule, although it went against all the teachings of Paladine.

The war had settled down to the most horrible stalemate. Men, dragons, ogres, goblins—the casualties mounted, the carrion creatures fed, the plagues began.

“I had not believed . . .” The silver dragon’s voice trailed off. Huma had not realized how quickly the destruction would spread across yet another once-unspoiled region.

Below them, frighteningly real, lay the evidence.

Whole groves of ancient, proud trees had been thrown free of the earth, either by dragons or magic-users. Fields were no more than great mounds of upturned soil with the tracks of many feet trampled into them. The dead reposed in great numbers, knights and ogres both, although there did seem to be more of the latter—or was it merely blind hope on the part of the Solamnic knight?

Huma’s face paled. He looked at the dead scattered about, then covered his eyes while he regained his composure.

“A futile struggle here,” Kaz was shouting in his ear. The minotaur had lost his fear of flight in his great interest in the battle. “Crynus picks and picks, and the knighthood’s commanders return the favor with little bites of their own. Neither will gain from this.”

The words made Huma stiffen. Kaz could not help his nature. A battle was a study in skill and position to him. Even personally involved, he would ponder strategy and tactics. Even as his ax screamed through the air.

The silver dragon turned her head toward them. “Obviously, we cannot land here. Kyre is certainly lost, to both sides, it would seem. These fields of wheat will feed no one.”

Huma blinked. “There is hope, then. The supply lines of the ogres must be strained. The knighthood sits more securely with its.”

“But their strength is not as great as that of the ogres,” interjected the minotaur.

So intent were they on the desolation below that none of them had noticed the large, dark forms riding toward their general position. It was Kaz who spotted them. He suddenly gripped Huma’s shoulder tightly. Huma turned his head and followed the minotaur’s gaze.

“Dragon!” he shouted to the silver leviathan bearing them. “Six at least.”

As they neared, Huma began to make out more definite shapes and colors. Reds—led by a black dragon? Squinting, Huma realized it was true. An enormous black dragon—bearing a rider. As they all were!

“I cannot fight them all,” said the silver dragon. “Jump when the earth is close. I will attempt to lead them astray.”

The silver dragon skimmed down near the trees, trying to locate some place suitable to land before her deadly counterparts reached them.

“You must jump when I say so! Are you ready?”

“It galls me to flee from any battle, even among the clouds. Is there no way we can help, Huma?”

Huma kept his face turned away from the minotaur. “No, we’d best jump.”

“As you wish.”

They passed over what had once been a farmhouse; it was now little more than a low, crumbling wall of bricks forming a crude rectangle. Beyond that, though, was clear field.

“I’m slowing! Ready yourselves!”

They poised.

“Now!”

Kaz moved first. He toppled over as if struck in the chest by an arrow. The silver dragon’s talons fairly touched the earth as she glided into another turn.

Huma leaned to jump—and hesitated.

“What are you doing?” the silver dragon screamed at Huma as the six dragons drew nearer.

“You cannot fight them alone!”

“Don’t be a fool!”

“Too late!” he shouted quickly.

Each of the dragons carried a tall, sinister figure clad in unadorned ebony armor. Their faces were hidden by visored helmets. Whether they were human or ogre or something else was beyond Huma’s ken.

The rider of the tremendous black dragon, a hulking figure who dwarfed Huma, motioned to the others. The reds pulled back to await the outcome. The black dragon shrieked eagerly as the rider prodded it.

The two dragons closed with much bellowing. Claws slashed and one talon dug into a forearm of the silver dragon. She, in turn, raked the open chest of the black, leaving great gash marks across it.

The armored rider swung a wicked two-headed ax, and Huma automatically dodged the attack. As the two dragons grappled, Huma was able to angle close enough to strike back.

The other riders hung back in nervous anticipation, their dragons shrieking angrily at being unable to participate. Then the silver dragon caught the black across one wing with her claws, and the other shrieked in pain. The black rider was thrown to one side, and left open to Huma’s thrust. Without thinking, the knight struck at the opening below his opponent’s shoulder. The point easily cut through the thin mail, and momentum carried it deeper. The rider grunted and slumped backward.

A chorus of cries from riders and dragons alerted the black to the injury of its charge. With frenzied movements, the black tore away from the silver dragon.

Huma readied himself for the mass attack that would surely follow, but, oddly enough, the enemy did not press its advantage. The remaining dragons formed a protective circle around the black dragon and its badly wounded rider, and then all six great beasts turned in the direction from which they had come. While knight and silver dragon watched in stupefaction, the enemy flew away.

Huma found himself breathing calmly again.

Below him, the silver dragon also had regained her poise. Her wounds still bled, and Huma wondered just how severe were the injuries.

As if in response, she turned to look at him, concern obvious in her every movement.

“Are you injured?”

“No. What of you? Do you require aid?” How did one treat a dragon? “I don’t know if I can help, but I can try.”

She shook her glittering head. “I can heal myself. I merely require rest. What concerns me more is the odd circumstances of this battle. This was more than merely a patrol. I cannot put my mind to the answer, but I believe this is a sign.”

Huma nodded. “We must pick up Kaz and hurry to Lord Oswal. He will want to know all.”

The silver dragon edged downward and saw something that made her smile cynically. She said, “It appears we have more visitors. Ones who, I believe, will not be pleased to discover a minotaur in their midst.”

Following her gaze, Huma saw them. Knights of Solamnia. More than twenty, he estimated. A patrol of his own colors. The silver dragon was right. The knights would be likely to run Kaz down, at the cost of a few of their own lives, no doubt.

Kaz, hidden in the wreckage of a farmer’s wagon and oblivious to the riders coming from behind, rose to wave at Huma and the silver dragon. Even if the knights had failed to see the minotaur, they could not miss the landing of the dragon. One knight spotted the bull-headed creature and yelled out a warning to the others. Immediately, the patrol went into a full charge. The minotaur whirled at the thundering sound and stood momentarily poised. Then the battle ax, which Huma had allowed Kaz to keep, was suddenly out and swinging expectantly. Swords were raised and lances aimed.

Huma could think of only one thing to do. He shouted out his plan to the silver dragon. The oncoming warriors looked up in astonishment, and their orderly riding became haphazard as they momentarily forgot all else at sight of the magnificent denizen of the air. The silver dragon came down behind Kaz and was able to grab the minotaur by his shoulders. Kaz let out a startled cry and dropped his ax as the great talons applied pressure to both shoulders and hauled him off the ground. The knights tugged hard on the reins, desperately trying to halt their steeds while cheering for what they thought was the end of a marauding minotaur.

Kaz continued a stream of curses that would have made the worst brigand blanch, but he was powerless in the grip of the silver dragon. When they were some distance away, the silver dragon dropped the minotaur gently to the ground and then landed nearby.

Huma leaped off her back and immediately confronted Kaz. If not for the minotaur’s oath to serve him, Huma suspected he would have been slaughtered then and there. Fire glowed in the minotaur’s deep-set eyes, and he snorted continuously with anger.

“No fighting!” Huma ordered.

“They will kill me! At least let me fight to the death, not stand there like some ineffectual gully dwarf!”

Very quietly and with a cold anger that surprised him, Huma repeated himself. “I said no fighting.”

The minotaur exhaled sharply and seemed to slump. He stared at Huma. “As you wish. I will put my faith in you who have saved my life twice.”

That again! Huma let out an exasperated breath and turned as the reorganized patrol rode hesitantly up to the odd trio. The patrol leader, the only one seemingly unaffected by the sight of the great dragon, called a halt and then leaned forward to study the young knight.

“It seems Bennett is not rid of you after all, Huma.”

Belated recognition dawned on Huma. “Rennard!”

Rennard raised his visor. Some of the other knights shifted uncomfortably. Rennard’s face was deathly pale, and when he spoke it was almost as if his features did not move. He might have been a handsome man, but that handsomeness had been ruined by near-death in his youth, from plague. His face was gaunt and lined, and some of his detractors liked to joke that Rennard had, in fact, died of the disease and just never realized it. Such colorful comments never were spoken in his presence, though. Few knights were his match.

Huma was pleased to see Rennard. The older knight had taken Huma under his wing from the first, when he came to Vingaard to present his petition for entry into the knighthood. Rennard had supported him when others had urged that he be rejected—a boy who could only claim his father was a knight and whose mother could give no evidence to support him.

The knights had gotten over their awe of the dragon by this time, and now all eyed Kaz. There was a great amount of muttering, much of it concerning what so strange a being as a minotaur was doing here. Rennard beckoned to one of the other riders. “Bind the minotaur. I’m sure that Lord Oswal will be most interested in him and what he is doing this far from the action.”

Kaz stepped back, fists raised. “Try! The first who lays a hand on me will never do so again!”

One of the knights drew a sword. “Insolent beast! You won’t live long enough!”

“No!” Huma stepped up to Rennard. “He’s no enemy. He was running from the ogres. I found him a prisoner of goblins and rescued him. He killed an ogre in order to save human lives!”

Several of the men made snide comments on the gullibility of the young knight, and Huma knew his face had glared crimson.

Kaz snorted. The slur on Huma’s honor was as much a slur on his own, since he owed his life to the human. “This is the honor of the Knights of Solamnia? This is how they treat one of their own? Perhaps I was mistaken to believe the knighthood might be as honorable as my own race!”

The knight who had drawn his sword began urging his horse forward. “I’ll have your head, minotaur!”

“You will do nothing of the sort, Knight Conrad.” The angered knight tried to face Rennard down, but, as had happened countless times before, it was the pale knight who was victorious. No one could face the ice-blue eyes.

“In truth, there is nothing any of you could say against Huma’s ability to judge,” continued Rennard. “And you know it. Act like knights, not petty Ergothians or high, mighty elves.”

The other warriors quieted, although it was clear they were not pleased with being scolded like children. Rennard did not care, Huma knew. Rennard was concerned only with Rennard.

To Huma, he said, “The minotaur is placed in your custody, Huma. I know more about their kind than these others apparently do. If he will pledge to come among us in peace, that will be all the assurance I need.”

Huma looked at Kaz, who stared at the patrol in general and at the gaunt knight in particular. After some consideration, the minotaur finally agreed. “I pledge to you that I will come in peace and that I will accept Huma’s judgment in all matters.”

The last was a criticism of the knights’ lack of faith in one of their own. The knights shifted uneasily. They did not like the idea of so powerful a prisoner riding loose among them. The silver dragon looked on with an expression of mild amusement. Rennard’s face was devoid of reaction, but Huma felt he was amused by the remark.

The patrol leader jabbed a thumb behind him. “We have a few extra horses, which we recovered about a mile from here. One of them is tall and strong enough to carry the minotaur, I believe. When you are satisfied, I want the two of you up front. We have much to discuss, and you. Knight Huma, must have a rather interesting report.”

The other knights made room as Huma and Kaz stepped into their midst. There were five extra horses—four war-horses and one drafthorse that apparently had been abandoned by its owner. The drafthorse and two of the warhorses proved to be unfit for riding and had been taken along mainly for the meat on their bones. The tallest of the horses, and the only one capable of supporting the massive form of the minotaur, was skittish, but not so much that Kaz could not control him. Huma found a greyish silver steed and took an immediately liking to it. When they were mounted, they rejoined Rennard.

Huma scanned the desolation. “What happened here?”

The lack of emotion only made Rennard’s words the more frightening. “What usually happens, Huma? Mages fight their own private wars and tear up the lands, leaving nothing but rock and craters for those bound to the earth. Dragons burn or freeze or tear up the remaining fertile, green regions. By the time the armies clash, there is little if anything worth fighting for.”

Mages were a sore subject with Rennard. No one knew why. Huma had never mentioned Magius to him for fear of alienating him, and losing one of Huma’s rare champions.

“Did we lose?”

“Stalemate. The fighting just moved north, although we were sent to assure that their northerly retreat was no feint. We were just about to turn back when we saw you.”

The silver dragon, who had stayed patiently silent all this time, finally interjected. “You did not see the dragonriders, then?”

Rennard’s head snapped up and the other knights stiffened. “Dragonriders, did you say?”

“Six of them. All clad in black and all riding red dragons, save the leader, who rode a huge black dragon. They seemed to be searching until they noticed us. I tried to buy some time, but your fellow knight refused to leave me. He insisted on joining in the battle.”

With most of the faces hidden by visors, Huma could not properly gauge the reactions of his comrades. Some few seemed to indicate approval with slight nods, while one was heard to mutter something about unnecessary foolhardiness. Rennard, meanwhile, seemed preoccupied.

“A huge black, you say?”

“The largest. Young, though. The rider chose to fight us one to one. We did, and then a strange thing occurred. Huma wounded him severely and the black was forced to retreat from the battle. Rather than seeking revenge, the others joined the black to seek help for their crippled leader. They would have slaughtered us had they all come at once. I still do not understand.”

Rennard’s face remained typically blank. How much this disturbed him was impossible to say. When he spoke next, it was as if the tale of the attack had already slipped his mind. “I can only thank you for the service you have given one of our own. Will you be joining us? I am unfamiliar with the healing of dragon wounds, but if the powers of a cleric of Mishakal will help, there are a few with the main force.”

The great beast flexed her wings—which unnerved more than one knight and many of the horses—and declined his offer. “My own talents will suffice. I merely need rest. I will rejoin my kin. You might possibly see me afterward.” The last comment was directed more at Huma than Rennard.

“It has been fascinating to know you even this brief time, Knight Huma,” the dragon continued. “Good tidings to you. May Paladine watch over you.”

Without further ado, the silver dragon lifted herself high into the air. Huma and the others were forced to look away as the dust rose. When it had settled at last, the astonishing creature was already far away. The group watched her vanish into the clouds, still awed by her presence. Rennard turned and took stock of those under his command—including Huma and Kaz—and turned his horse. He gave no command, and none was expected. The others simply followed, the two newcomers riding just behind the patrol leader.

It was not until they were well on their way that Rennard motioned the two to ride beside him. He continued to watch the path ahead as he spoke. “These riders. Have you ever seen or heard of them before, Huma?”

“Should I have?”

“Perhaps. Minotaur—”

“My name is Kaz.” He appeared tired of being addressed as if he were not quite there.

“Kaz, then. Surely, you must know them?”

“They are the Black Guard. One of many of their names. They serve the renegade mage Galan Dracos and the Queen’s warlord, Crynus.”

“What of the warlord himself?”

Kaz shrugged. “He is a giant, although whether an ogre or human or something else, only a special few seem to know. He is a master strategist who is willing to take chances, even with himself. His favorite mount—mount . . .” The minotaur stopped speaking, and his eyes widened.

A thin, deadly smile spread across Rennard’s face, a frightening sight on that deathlike visage. Rennard turned to Huma. “What I believe he was going to add was that the favored mount of Crynus is a huge black dragon called Chair. Both man and beast are obsessive risk-takers and one-to-one combat is something they relish greatly.”

“And ... and I fought against him.” The realization shook Huma. He had faced Crynus himself and lived.

Then, he suddenly thought, so had the warlord. He had been badly wounded, true, but Huma was sure he lived—and somehow Huma knew that the warlord would seek him out. To regain face. To regain honor. To more than balance the score. To kill him.

“I understand the warlord takes his battles very personally,” Rennard added, almost casually. He suddenly urged his horse to a quicker pace and the others followed suit as quickly as they were able. Even then, they did not move fast enough to suit Huma, who suddenly watched the sky nervously.