The Legend of Huma

Chapter 8

Magius’s spell of light surrounded them like a tent. Beyond it loomed total darkness. They could hear the raging of the magical storm, although now they could not feel it; the spell that protected Magius protected Huma and Kaz as well. Only their footing was questionable, as the minotaur discovered. Huma helped him to his feet. The bottom half of the man-beast’s body was slick with mud.

Magius smiled amiably at the sight, raising Kaz’s anger. Matters were not helped any by the spellcaster’s commentary on the slow pace of his companions, or the way in which not one speck of mud had dared to mar the magnificence of the mage’s clothing. Another spell, Huma knew, because Kaz had already attempted to kick some of the muck toward the backside of their savior. The mud had halted just inches from the unsuspecting target, seemed to hesitate, and then fallen to earth.

Neither the knight nor the minotaur had any idea where Magius was leading them. They only knew that they were at last safe from the violent sorceries unleashed by the Dragonqueen’s magic-users. That such power was at the evil ones’ beck and call had thrown Huma into a deep depression. Now more than ever, all seemed to be lost.

Magius abruptly raised his free hand. The glow from his person dwindled away. Only the light from his simple staff, the light which Huma and Kaz had first noticed, continued to keep them from total darkness.

They could see nothing ahead of them, but they could hear that the storm had ceased. They also could hear something else: the padding of many animal paws and the heavy breathing of large creatures. Huma’s hand whitened from strain as he tightened his grip on his sword. The creatures, night dwellers if they were able to travel with such ease, continued past. When they had been gone for several minutes and nothing followed, Magius lowered his hand.

He turned momentarily back to the others. “Outrunners. Things bred and misbred by Galan Dracos. Small wonder some began to call him the Queen’s mortal consort. His twisted imagination is truly worthy of her.”

Huma wondered who the “some” were whom Magius talked about. He longed to ask many questions about the mage’s last few years. Before going off for the Test, Magius had been a sarcastic, vain trickster who poked fun at his best friend and who constantly ridiculed the knighthood for its closed ways. Only Huma really understood that Magius was terribly insecure—one of the reasons he had sought to learn magic—and that the taunts thrown at Huma served another purpose. The very same knights who despised young Huma were his champions. The honor of the knighthood always came first.

This Magius, while he still had that streak of mischievousness, had gained a serious, brooding side that could overwhelm his personality.

“Huma,” the minotaur whispered. “Where are we going?”

Both of them had assumed that Magius was leading them to wherever the Solamnic forces were regrouping, or rather, where Huma hoped they were reforming. The young knight was becoming more and more certain that they were, in fact, heading in the opposite direction.

“Magius?”

“Hmmm?” The spellcaster did not even turn around.

Hesitantly, Huma asked, “Are we heading back deeper into Solamnia?”

“No.”

“Where are we going?”

Despite his carefree appearance, the magic-user’s voice carried uncertainty, perhaps even some fear. “We are going to my citadel, my domain.”

Huma finally made clear his true concern. “Ergoth?”

“Yes.” Magius continued walking, but the other two came to a halt. Small wonder the storm had abated so soon! They were walking through the enemy lines!

“He has betrayed us!” Kaz reached out with his bare hands. Magius’s neck would be a fragile thing in the grip of the minotaur’s powerful claws.

“No, Kaz!” Huma struggled briefly with the minotaur, but Kaz would not listen. The latter fully expected to be turned over to his less-than-forgiving brethren and executed.

The massive hands formed a circle around the mage’s neck—and could go no further. The same spell that protected Magius from the mud also protected him from personal harm by physical means. The former benefit was, no doubt, just a fortunate side-effect, although with the vanity of Magius, it was difficult to say.

Magius turned around, still in the near-grip of Kaz. Without warning, the minotaur swung one hand at the spellcaster’s head. If he had expected to succeed by sheer force, the minotaur was mistaken. Not only was the mage unmoved, but his attacker’s hand was flung back.

The magic-user was wearing the irritating smile that Huma had watched him cultivate over the years. Suddenly, even in the midst of the overwhelming darkness, it was the past once more.

“I have not betrayed you, either of you. True, we are moving into Ergoth, but much of that land is still essentially untouched by the ogres and their foul mistress. We are, in fact, more likely to be safe here than if we had followed the mad rush by the oh-so-stalwart knighthood.”

Huma grimaced at the description and felt embarrassment, though he knew the knighthood had done all it could. Magius failed to mention that the magic-users had fled, also.

The minotaur refused to be convinced. “By Sargas and my ancestors for twenty generations—”

Magius held the light of the staff in front of Kaz, who backed away for fear a spell was being unleashed. “If anyone draws attention to us, it will be you, minotaur! Call on your dusty kin if you must, but do not call upon that dark god unless you desire his personal attention now!”

Sargas. It was several seconds before Huma identified the name. Sargas—Sargonnas, consort of Takhisis, the Dragonqueen. A power unto himself. The minotaurs worshipped him. A reflex action on the part of Kaz, to be sure, but one that could carry a deadly price at a time when gods and goddesses watched and listened with much interest.

Sargas would not be pleased with a minotaur who had fled to the safety of Paladine’s appointed mortal guardians, Sargas was the god of vengeance and plots of great evil. Kaz had no choice but to be calm himself and to bow to the human’s common sense—at least, in this respect.

“Now,” Magius said, straightening his cloak, “may we continue? I will tire eventually, and I have no desire to be within the range of the Queen’s sentinels.”

For what seemed like days, they followed the mage through the darkness. Huma began to wonder if all of Ergoth lay under shadow and whether that shadow was now extending over Solamnia as well. He felt a twinge of guilt that he was not assisting in the regrouping of the forces, but he consoled himself with the fact that he might do some good here, where the warlord would least suspect his presence.

At last, the trio began to notice a failing in the darkness, as if it were either weakening or they had at last reached its boundaries.

“The power level used to create and maintain this monstrosity must be monumental,” said Magius. “The renegades of Galan Dracos are talented, but even they have their limits. Yet it appears to have served its purpose. The stalemate is broken.” Magius did not seem visibly concerned.

Dark, spectral shapes formed, reaching for them. The demonic shapes coalesced into towering trees and thick bushes.

“Magius, what happened in the east?”

The spellcaster slowed, though his eyes were still on the path ahead. “Something happened in the east?”

“The dragons came.” What, Huma wondered, had become of them? Had they all perished, including the silver one to whom Huma had become so strangely attached? “They said that the east had collapsed.”

Magius stopped, turned, and studied his friend’s face. “Indeed?” The mage wore a thoughtful expression.

Kaz crossed his massive arms. “You know a lot, magic-user. Much more than you are telling us.”

The cynical smile returned. “I will do my best to enlighten you when we have reached our destination.”

“And how long will that be? I could swear we have been walking for days.”

The resplendent figure shook his golden hair. “Patience! This may be the most dangerous part of the journey.”

As Magius turned forward, Kaz muttered, “More damned riddles!”

The dim forest soon lightened into near-dawn and then, quite suddenly, it was day. Overcast, as seemed perpetual on Ansalon with the Queen’s coming, but day, at least. The trio paused to drink it in. Even Magius seemed pleased.

“We should be fairly safe now. I chose the shortest, safest route possible under the circumstances, but we still have a day’s journey ahead of us. I will not have Dracos or even the Black Robes know the whereabouts of my grove.”

Kaz merely shook his head and looked at Huma, who could only shake his head in return. He, too, was unfamiliar with the grove Magius was speaking of.

An unexpected inconvenience popped up.

“I am starved,” said the minotaur.

No sooner had he spoken than Huma felt the ache in his stomach as well.

Magius sighed. He tapped his staff, and a pouch materialized. It was plain leather, nearly as big as a knight’s saddlebag, and tied shut. “It is not much, but we will have to make do under the circumstances.”

Not much, as far as the mage was concerned, was more than enough for three healthy appetites, even when one belonged to a minotaur. Huma eyed the bag as Magius pulled out fruits, bread, and even a small flask of wine. The contents were more than double the volume of the pouch, and there still appeared to be more inside. What other tricks did his childhood friend have that the mage took for granted? How powerful was Magius, and to whom did he dedicate that power?

Biting into an apple, Huma studied the rich garments of the other. By rights, Magius should have been wearing either the White robes of Good or—and much more likely—the Red Robes of Neutrality. Instead, Magius wore a blue and gold ensemble that would have been more at home on a courtier in Ergoth. The gold, Huma suspected, was real gold laced into the cloth. The cape was white, but so soft and well-woven that it was either magically created or the work of a fine artisan. Magius also wore hip boots of fine, polished leather—and not any ordinary leather, either. The knight was at a loss to identify it, but he had seen similar boots before. The Grand Master had a pair much like these.

This was not the clothing of a mage. Not any mage that Huma had ever heard of.

Kaz spoke, breaking Huma’s train of thought.

“God of the Sea! I have never savored a wine such as this!”

The look on the minotaur’s face appeared to amuse Magius. “My compliments on your taste. It is a rare treat given to me by the Qualinesti elves. I find it has become my personal favorite.”

“You’ve been among the Qualinesti?” Huma had heard of the elves—and of their cousins, the Silvanesti—but he had never seen any but half-elves, as Gwyneth seemed to be.

The thought of Gwyneth opened up memories and dreams that Huma did not wish to dwell on. He forced the past into a dark recess of his mind.

“I’ve been among them,” Magius was saying. “I went to feel them out. They remain as stubborn as their kin. Each thinks that they can save the world single-handedly. Their pride is at the expense of mankind.”

The mood grew rather somber after that. Huma found himself gazing in the direction from which they had come. Not one sign of the oppressive darkness remained.

Night came and, at Magius’s suggestion, they camped until morning. When Huma suggested setting up a watch, Magius only scoffed. He assured them that his powers would be sufficient to the task. Despite that, both Huma and the minotaur were adamant. The mage, disgruntled, finally agreed, providing that he was given the last watch.

Knights who sleep deeply do not live long. This rule was one of the first squires learned. There were far too many foes who moved in silence. Thus knights quickly developed a sense that warned them when someone, or something, was near.

Thus it was that Huma knew.

It was the last watch, the one Magius had requested. Huma, lying on his side, carefully opened his eyes a crack. His narrow view gave him a glimpse of the minotaur’s feet and the still form of Magius himself—most definitely asleep.

Whoever it was, it was standing behind him, he knew that now. Slowly and cautiously, he turned, as if still sleeping, until he was lying on his back. His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, and he had confidence enough in his ability to think he might yet have a chance.

He opened his eyes just enough to let the day in.

It was with great difficulty that he held back from shouting. Through pure reflex he rolled away and came up on one knee, sword drawn. Behind him, Kaz rose with a mad snort, more than ready for combat.

It loomed higher than even the minotaur—a tall, massive overhang of rock and vegetation. Had it been there the night before, Huma might not have noticed anything unusual about it. He might not have noticed the massive appendages of stone that could loosely be called arms. He might not have noticed the way the outer shell of dirt and vegetation was constantly changing. Huma might even have missed, somehow, the two blue-gray crystals that seemed to stare down at him from what could only be some sort of face.

He took in all of this in a few brief seconds. The living mound shifted slightly forward, pulling up earth, insect, and plant life with it. It seemed not to have one true body, but to borrow from wherever it stood. Huma readied himself. Kaz had the huge battle ax poised. Then laughter filled the woods. Laughter from Magius.

“Cease your posturing, brave warriors. The elemental has no intention of doing battle with you. He is mine—a gatekeeper, you might say.”

Kaz whirled on the mage, and the ax tore deeply into the tree where Magius had been sitting. The ax missed his head by inches. Magius turned as pale as Rennard, and his mouth hung open in mid-laugh.

The angry warrior was not allowed to savor his revenge, for his footing suddenly became nonexistent. A very selective tremor shook the hapless minotaur. Huma lanced down at his own footing, which was as solid as ever, and then back at Kaz. With a roar, the minotaur lost his grip on the ax and fell backward.

Meanwhile, Magius had recovered from his own shock. He was careful, though, to keep his laughter quiet and less mocking. He shook his head as Kaz tried unsuccessfully to rise.

“You will never stand on two legs unless I say so, my hotheaded friend. Have I your word that you will cease your attempts to do away with me?”

As the minotaur’s chin bounced against hard-packed earth, he grunted agreement. Magius looked at the elemental. It seemed as if the two crystals turned to meet that gaze, though Huma knew he might be imagining it. Without warning, the ground beneath Kaz returned to its normal consistency. Kaz hesitated, expecting another trick.

“Oh, do get up!” the spellcaster muttered. “You’re perfectly safe.”

Huma relaxed, but he did not return his sword to its sheath. The earthen creature disturbed him.

Rising, Magius stepped between Huma and the creature. Like a man training a hound, Magius raised one hand and said, “Speak to me.”

The voice was deep and echoing, but also like listening to a pile of rocks and pebbles being shaken violently in a bucket. The first words were practically unintelligible. It repeated itself.

“All well. No one enters grove. Citadel welcomes mage’s return.” The mound fell silent.

Magius nodded his satisfaction. To the others he said, “Beyond that dense clump of trees, perhaps three to four hours’ journey, is our destination.”

Kaz clenched his fists, then thought better of it. He had already seen a little of what the magic-user’s servant could do. “That close and you made us sleep here?”

“I believe you heard the earth elemental mention the grove, did you not?” The mage’s face was quite sober.

“What of it?”

“Only I would dare enter the grove during darkness, and that is because I have spent time mastering it. To have led you two through it would have surely have meant your doom.”

Huma looked off in the direction his friend had pointed. “What is the danger? Can a blade or ax put an end to it?”

The laughter of the mage held little humor. “There are far more deadlier threats than mere physical ones. Let us say, it would take a strong mind to come out of there in one piece. A strong mind or a simple one, take your pick.”

Riddles, as Kaz would have said—so Huma thought then. He did not trust challenges that could not be met face-to-face. In many ways, it was another sign of the changes Magius had gone through since their last meeting before the Test.

“The elemental will guide us and do what it can to protect any of us who might fall off the path. May the gods have mercy on he who does, because the grove will not.”

It took them only half an hour to reach the edge of the grove. In all his days, Huma could not recall seeing such a thick growth of foliage. Trees, grass, bushes, and even vines grew within and around one another, creating a veritable wall of defense around the domain of Magius. Try as he might, Huma could not fathom the depths.

Open paths dotted the grove at various points, but tended to twist aside soon after, making it impossible to guess which was the best to take. The earth elemental passed several of these, including a couple which seemed far more inviting than the one the creature finally chose. Kaz eyed the chosen path critically and shook his massive hand.

“Look at this.” He pointed a clawed hand at the sharp, thorny vines at the entranceway. “Why, the path we just passed was clear and well worn! Surely, this is the wrong path!”

Magius looked at him with open contempt. “The most attractive lure catches the most flies, my friend. You are welcome to try the other path, if you like. Here, we face a little prick from a plant. There ... it could be anything.”

Shifting uncertainly, Kaz looked from one path to the other. In desperation, he looked to Huma for support.

Huma, in turn, looked at Magius. The mage was noncommital. Huma stared at the vine-covered path.

“I believe him, Kaz.”

“Then I will go where you go.”

“I’m glad that’s settled.” Magius shook his head in amazement. He lifted his staff and tapped the backside—it looked like a backside, anyway—of the elemental. The living mound shifted forward, the earth before it becoming its form as it moved into the grove. Magius followed without any hesitation. The minotaur glanced at Huma, then followed the mage.

Huma, alone, took a deep breath, kept his sword ready—for what, he could not say—and stepped onto the path.