The Legend of Huma

by Richard Knaak

  Huma lowered his weapon. The villagers had melted into the background, although they were in no real danger.

  “Are you well?” The question appeared legitimate. The silvery dragon was actually concerned.

  “Please,” Huma choked out. “Don’t harm him! It’s not what you think!”

  The glimmering orbs of the dragon seemed to appraise him. The leviathan was curious. “Why do you wish to spare the life of this creature? Is there information you desire? I can wrench information from him with little trouble.”

  The dragon waited with the patience of one who measures time in centuries, not minutes.

  “He is my companion. He has turned from the evil of the Dark Queen.”

  Had someone informed Huma that the face of a dragon was capable of revealing very human surprise, he would have scoffed. This, though, was the case. He remained silent as the dragon digested this unusual piece of information.

  “The minotaur would have struck me. It is obvious that he meant me great physical harm. How, then, can I justify your claims?”

  Huma stiffened. “You must take my word. I have no proof.”

  She actually smiled at that. On a dragon, even a smile was fearsome. Lord Oswal had once said that a dragon’s smile was like that of the fox who was preparing to eat the hen.

  “I beg your pardon, Knight of Solamnia. I did not mean that I had no faith in your words. You must admit, it is not every day that one finds a minotaur fighting side by side with one of your kind.”

  “No offense was taken.”

  “What of them?”

  Huma did not turn. He still remembered his indecision and what might have resulted. “Their fear and anger is understandable. They’ve suffered much. I hold nothing against them.”

  She acknowledged his answer with a sinuous twist of her narrow, lengthy neck. To the villagers she said, “You travel off-course. Turn to the southwest. There are clerics of Mishakal who will care for your injured and give you food. Tell any others you meet on your way.”

  She received no argument from them, something that Huma was quite thankful for. The dragon watched the refugees set out in the proper direction. Then she looked down at Kaz with near-distaste.

  “If I release this one, his well-being is your affair. I have as little love for his kind as those unfortunates do.”

  Huma was hesitant. “I cannot promise his reaction when you release him. He is quick to anger.”

  “A trait of the minotaurs. If they were not constantly killing one another in their contests of strength and rank, I think they would have overrun Ansalon long before this.” She sighed, an action that forced Huma to close his eyes as hot air warmed his face. “Very well.”

  With those words said, the minotaur suddenly leaped to life. He did not renew his attack, but rather paused some distance from dragon and knight, the ax ready in his hands. He eyed the dragon warily.

  She returned the gaze with something akin to disdain. “You heard everything.”

  It was no question, and the massive warrior’s expression indicated to Huma that Kaz had heard all too well. He still did not trust either of them, though.

  “I heard. I am not sure what to believe.”

  “I easily could have crushed you, minotaur.” The silver dragon lifted one massive claw as proof. Had either one of them felt the force behind it, there would have been little left to mourn.

  Kaz turned his gaze to Huma. “You saved my life once, Knight Huma. It appears you have done so again, only this time with words.” The minotaur shook his head. “I shall never be able to sufficiently repay the debt.”

  Huma frowned. Debts, again! “I want nothing from you, save peace. Will you put away the ax?”

  The minotaur straightened, took one last look at the hulking figure before him, and hesitantly returned the ax to its resting place. “As I have said, I cannot go back. What is to become of me?”

  The dragon snorted, sending small puffs of smoke floating. “I have no interest in you. Huma is the one who should decide.”

  “Me?”

  “You’ve shown excellent judgment so far. Would that more of the earthbound races showed such common sense.” There was no mockery in the dragon’s tone.

  Huma felt oddly pleased by the compliment, coming as it did from a creature as regal as the silver dragon. He thought carefully for several moments, tossing about ideas that had half-formed during the trek, and then turned to the minotaur. “We must join the column. If you truly wish to prove yourself to others than myself, you’ll have to tell them what you know about the ogres’ movements and make them believe you.” Huma paused. “You do know something of use to them, don’t you?”

  Kaz gave it long thought and then grunted. “I know more than I should know. If you can convince them not to slay me out of hand, I will do as you say. Perhaps what help I can give you will hasten the day when my people are free once more.”

  “You’ll have to give me the ax.”

  The minotaur let loose with a bellow of rage. “I cannot go among them unarmed! It would be a loss of face! This is not our way!”

  Huma’s temper flared. “You’re not among your people! You’re among mine! If you step among them armed with that well-worn ax, there will be no hope for compromise. At the very least, you will become a prisoner. At the worst, you will be dead.”

  The dragon leveled a glittery stare at the minotaur. “The knight’s assessment is quite accurate. You would do best to listen to him.”

  Kaz snorted and snarled and called upon the names of some six or seven prominent ancestors, but in the end, he agreed to surrender his weapon to Huma when the time came.

  The silver dragon spread her great wings. She was a magnificent creature, the very aspect of power and beauty joined into one. Huma had seen tapestries, wood carvings, and sculptures in Vingaard Keep that had sought to capture the essence of the dragons. They were all pale specters when compared to the actual being.

  “I was flying to rejoin my kin in northern Ergoth when I caught sight of you. The situation was unique. It interested me, so I decided to land,” she said. “I should move on, but it will not take me far out of my way if I transport the two of you to your destination.”

  The thought of soaring through the sky on the back of one of the legendary dragons nearly overwhelmed Huma. He knew that there were knights who fought astride the huge beasts and even talked with them, but Huma had never been so privileged.

  “How do we hold on?”

  “If I fly slowly, you should have no trouble hanging on with your arms and legs. Many have done it before, although you are the first to fly with me. It will save you much time and hardship.” She lowered her head so that it was level with his own.

  Huma would fly! Magius had once said that this was one of his greatest reasons for joining the orders of sorcery—to float among the clouds.

  Huma straddled the long, sinewy neck just above the shoulders and could not help but smile at the dragon, who had turned to watch. He knew she understood his enthusiasm all too well. Reddening slightly, Huma reached down a hand to Kaz. The minotaur stared at the offered hand and at the back of the dragon.

  He shook his head vehemently. “My people are creatures of the land, sailors of the seas. We are not birds.”

  “It is perfectly safe.” The dragon appeared slighted. “A babe could ride with no fear.”

  “A babe would be foolish enough. I am not.”

  “There’s nothing to fear, Kaz.”

  Huma’s remarks stung well, as the knight had hoped they would. If a mere human could face this challenge, then so could he, a minotaur. Snorting furiously, he took hold of Huma’s hand and climbed up. He sat directly behind the knight and did not speak, although every muscle in his body tensed. He gripped the dragon’s neck with his hands and legs.

  “Are both of you prepared?”

  Huma looked back at Kaz, who stared ahead without seeing. The knight turned back. “As best we can be, I guess.” His heart was pounding, a
nd he felt more like a small child than a Knight of Solamnia. “Will we fly high?”

  The silver dragon actually laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. “Not as high as you might like, but I do not think you will be disappointed.”

  She gave the minotaur one last amused glance, then began to flap her wings. Huma watched in fascination as the ground fell away beneath them. Within seconds, the silver dragon was spiraling high in the sky. Huma lowered his visor to keep some of the wind out of his face. Kaz merely held on for dear life and changed neither method nor mind even when the silvery leviathan ceased climbing and finally maintained a slow and steady flight.

  Huma raised his visor and leaned as close to the dragon’s head as was possible. “This—this is fantastic!”

  “Perhaps you should have been a dragon yourself!” she shouted back. “If you could see the world as I see it!”

  She did not try to explain, and Huma did not ask her to. For a brief time, the war, the knighthood, all his problems vanished.

  Huma settled back and absorbed the splendor.

  CHAPTER 4

  The 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.