“I am sick and tired of that tent and more than happy to see the world, even if it is just the camp.”
She laughed gaily, then suddenly became serious. “Will you be going soon?”
He nodded gravely. Rennard had been to see him several times. Huma knew he was checking up on the young knight for Lord Oswal. If Huma hoped to keep his self-respect before the High Warrior, he would have to assure his readiness as soon as possible.
The wind picked up and blew some of the long, thick locks into Gwyneth’s face. She brushed back the hair and appeared to be about to say something when a familiar, hulking figure came into view, escorted by two Knights of the Sword.
“Huma!”
Kaz came up and attempted to greet his one true human friend with a hug that would have sent Huma back to the tent with three or four broken ribs. Huma succeeded in sidestepping the minotaur and, therefore, ended up with only a bruised shoulder where Kaz slapped him in pleasure. It had been four days since Huma had laid eyes on Kaz. As Lord Oswal’s trust in the minotaur increased, the latter’s counsel was becoming more and more important. The knighthood had been battling the ogres for years but knew very little about them. Kaz, raised under the oppression of his cousins, knew all too well.
“Gwyneth,” Huma said, remembering the woman, but turned toward her too late. She had vanished.
The minotaur was more perceptive than his appearance would indicate. “Have I come at an inopportune time? You have my apologies, if I have intruded.”
Huma waved off the apology. “I should apologize to you. It is good to see you, Kaz.”
“I had no idea that your kind could ask so many questions—and over and over! I have been drained of all knowledge, yet still they press for more.”
“They’re desperate, Kaz. We want to break—” Huma cut off as a tall figure, clad in crimson robes and cowl, made his way past them with no acknowledgment whatsoever. The face was narrow and bony, and the man reminded Huma of a fearsome instructor he had once had during his early days as a squire.
The minotaur’s eyes followed the red-robed figure. “The mages are extremely nervous. I can smell their fear. It sickens me on occasion.”
Huma found he had to favor his left side a little. He was not yet fully recovered. “What frightens them?”
“The unknown. They are quite accustomed to dealing with their black-robed counterparts, but it is rumored that Galan Dracos has unleashed his fellow renegades. You saw part of the magical battle?”
“Who could not? It fairly covered the heavens.”
“There were a dozen powerful mages on our side when we entered. Four of those died, and another may never regain full use of his mind and body. Do you know how many opposed them?”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Three?” The knight shook his head. “They must have been powerful, but how do the mages know they were not black-robed sorcerers?”
Kaz smile knowingly. “Two were Black Robes, so they say. The survivor, who escaped, was not. His powers were too wild and unpredictable for one brought up under the tutelage of the three orders. A renegade. More than that, they would not say.”
Huma could not help but think of Magius, whose tall body and handsome features would have been more at home in a royal court then in the dank, secluded towers of the spellcasters. Even up to the time of his Test of Sorcery, Huma’s childhood companion had been a maverick. His skills were such that he had long before surpassed his instructors. Magius always had been one to experiment, even when his life was put into danger. But at times, he had talked of abandoning his schooling.
Kaz was summoned once again and, with a groan, he bid his farewell. Huma returned to the tent and slept for the better part of the day. Rennard stopped by to inform Huma that fully recovered or not, the younger knight was to be ready for guard duty within the next day or so. Huma might have complained, but he was more than happy to be given another chance to prove himself.
Gwyneth also stopped by, but the conversation was short and served little purpose. She seemed to want to say something, but whatever it was, was unspoken. He did not see her again during his recovery.
On the day that Huma was to receive his first duties since being nearly trampled to death, the camp became a flurry of activity. Columns of knights rode past the command center, a massive tent topped by a banner bearing the kingfisher symbol and guarded continuously by a contingent of Knights of the Rose. Here was where Lord Oswal and his officers planned their strategy. Huma could only guess at the reason for all the movement. Rumors abounded that the mountainous eastern border had fallen to the ogres and that the creatures were making their way toward Vingaard Keep. Another rumor warned that plague had struck one of the towns which the knights had been using as a waystation. Huma took the rumors for what they were—fearful wondering.
When Rennard approached, Huma was assisting the clerics, carrying hot and cold water for them and bringing them food. It was not much, but it helped. It also kept Huma’s mind from straying to more unpleasant matters.
Huma stood erect when the other knight appeared. The act almost drenched Rennard with freshly boiled water as the buckets went swinging to and fro. The blank features twitched, but whatever emotion that indicated was lost on Huma.
“I see that you are more than fit enough to resume your duties as a knight,” Rennard said gravely.
The hard work had made Huma sweat profusely, and moisture had accumulated around his brow. His face was grimy, and his clothing was stained. He did not dare speak, not knowing what he might say, so he merely nodded.
Rennard folded his arms. “You are captain of the guard tonight. Lord Oswal thinks you’re ready for such responsibility.” He looked up and down Huma’s form without a change in expression.
It was already near dark. Huma swallowed. “May I be permitted to clean up and suit myself?”
“By all means. I’ve already assigned the watches. When you’re ready, come see me.” Rennard unfolded his arms and walked off. Salutes had always been unnecessary with him.
Besides, saluting was difficult with a bucket in each hand.
Huma had feared that some knights would resist his appointment as captain of the guard. Such was not the case. The guard consisted of knights who either were unfamiliar with their captain or were too new to have been influenced by Bennett and his associates. This was not to say they were green, untried knights; no squire who passed into the ranks of knighthood was untried.
A few veterans were mixed in for safety’s sake, but these men were loyal to Lord Oswal and would judge men on merit, not on birth.
One such veteran snapped to attention as Huma passed. Huma felt uncomfortable at commanding men twice his age and ten times his experience, but he knew that every knight, save the commanding officers, was required to stand guard duty now and then. Nevertheless, Huma felt a tremor of nervousness as he took the report from the older sentry and breathed easily only when he was on his way to the next. It did not matter whether that man would be less experienced than the first; commanding was what frightened Huma. If something should go wrong, he would be to blame.
The perimeter of the camp took him to the edge of the forest region, and Huma eyed this area with some trepidation. Anything could be hiding out there, and it was not hard to imagine eyes and flitting, shadowy figures everywhere he looked.
It was not until after midnight that he came across the vacant position.
The slope of the land kept the position from view until he was almost on top of it. Huma stood there a moment, transfixed by the realization. He could have assigned someone else the task of checking on the sentries, but as his first command, he had wanted to do it himself. He should call out for assistance or run back to warn Lord Oswal and the others, but he knew that either option would take too much time and would alert whoever—or whatever—was out there.
Sword drawn, Huma stepped into the dark woods. By rights, he knew he might be bringing trouble down upon h
imself, but some mesmerizing presence within the forest seemed to draw him in. He could not see it, but he felt its power. Helpless, he plunged deeper into the woods, the urge a part of him now. He had forgotten his real reasons for daring to enter, save that someone or something that he was determined to locate lurked within.
A shadow padded alongside Huma, red but sightless eyes locked on his presence. Another shadow stalked the knight from his other side. Huma saw neither, heard neither—and would not have, even if all his faculties had been intact. It took great willpower to see the night beasts when they stalked the forests.
A flickering pattern of glittering lights danced before the entranced knight. Most of the gleams fluttered away at his approach, but two remained fixed, staring at him. Huma stumbled toward them, mindless of the still, armored form he had nearly tripped over. The gleaming orbs beckoned, and a dark shade seemed to materialize about them.
For the first time, a voice broke the silence. It was little more than a hiss, but it demanded all of Huma’s attention.
“Brave knight. So secure with your little toys.”
The form shifted to the side a little. Huma’s eyes followed obediently. The shadowy figure seemed to examine its catch. “Could you be the one, I wonder?”
A leathery hand reached up to take hold of Huma’s chin. His head was turned left and right, although the knight’s eyes never left those of his captor. “Yessss. Dracos will be pleased—even the warlord will be pleased. It cannot be coincidence. He has had his hand in this to save his own neck.” The eyes and hand traced a downward path to Huma’s sword. “There will be no need of this anymore.”
A gleam far behind the shadowy figure suddenly pulled Huma’s gaze away. His captor, caught up in the capture, failed to notice the odd light. Others, though, marked the action. There were gutteral growls, and the stench of death became strong.
The gaze of the creature returned quickly to the face of its captive.
Two pairs of eyes met. Huma’s were no longer entranced.
The knight reacted instinctively. The sword was driven with a strength born of shock and fear. The physical form of the dark figure proved to give little resistance. Claws scratched wildly at Huma’s face, but he ignored them, attempting to thrust his weapon as far as it would go. Suddenly, he met resistance, although the shadowy foe did not fall. The clawing finally stopped, however. The figure shuddered twice and was still.
Huma slumped to his knees, exhausted by the effort.
Things of the dark padded toward him for a moment, then hesitated, as if sensing something unexpected. Huma raised his head and caught a glimpse of something pale and vaguely wolflike in form. Then it was gone.
How long Huma stayed there, he did not know. Gradually, he came to notice the soft footfalls of someone walking in his direction. They were coming from the wrong direction—from deeper within the forest. Huma rose, albeit a little unsteadily. He had not recovered completely, he realized.
“Here, let me help you.” The voice was strong, and the hands that held Huma were powerful. While the knight took a deep breath, the newcomer looked over the remains of the attacker, chuckled, and said, “Well done. You’ve pinned him to the tree trunk. An impressive display of strength and quite deserving where that one was concerned.”
“Who—?”
“Save your breath for walking. You’ve gone deeper into the forest than you think.”
As they walked, Huma dared to cast a wary eye toward the newcomer. He was tall, this stranger, and clad in extravagant, well-made clothing. Elegant gold locks of hair gave him the look of a regal lion. The stranger’s countenance was less visible, but Huma received the impression of a handsome, almost pretty face, one well at home in the royal courts, perhaps flirting with young, well-to-do maidens. There was a familiarity to it, too. Someone he had not seen in years.…
“Magius!” Huma blurted out the name in shock.
They stopped. The newcomer released him. They stared at one another, and the knight noticed that the other seemed to glow from within.
“Huma. It’s good to see you, even under the circumstances. I wondered how long I might—if you’ll pardon the expression—keep you in the dark.”
“You’re alive!” Huma had never been sure what happened after that test in the tower. “You’re alive!” he repeated in wonder.
The face of Magius was visible, even in the dark. His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “Yes. I apologize.”
The smile on Huma’s face crumbled, and he asked, “Apologize? Why should you apologize?”
“Do you think I was out here by pure coincidence, Huma? I hope not. It was because of me that your life was placed in jeopardy.”
“I don’t understand.” The thought of danger made Huma reach for his sword. As his hand touched empty air, he remembered what had become of his weapon. He turned. “My sword! I have to go—”
“No!” The mage’s voice was loud and commanding. “We should not stay out here alone any longer than we need to. Go back when you have men at your back. The dreadwolves may have fled, but I could be wrong. It would not be the first time. The gods know, it would not be the first time.”
Magius urged him back toward the camp, and Huma saw the wisdom. He would, however, get some answers.
“What was that back there? What did you mean earlier?”
Some of the magnificence of his old friend seemed to evaporate. Magius was suddenly an older man than Huma, although both were the same age. The mage did not look directly at the knight. “I think you had better ask one of the Red Robes back at camp. He should be able to give you the official version.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Trouble of the sort which I will be sure to lead away from you now. I was a fool to even think of coming to you.”
The glow of dim fires was the first evidence that the camp was near. Huma heard the sounds of men in action. Someone had noticed the absence of the two knights—one the captain of the guard, no less.
Magius also heard the activity. He stopped abruptly. “Whatever you hear, I have not changed, Huma.” The mage grabbed his dearest friend by the shoulders. “Believe me! If the test did anything, it proved that!”
The glow that had surrounded the magic-user so pompously suddenly vanished, but not before Huma caught sight of the fear in his friend’s face. Not just fear for himself, but fear for Huma as well.
“Listen.” The shadows covered the mage’s face now, giving him an unearthly aspect. “The creatures won’t bother you any longer. It’s me their masters are after. They sent them after me once they learned I was gone.”
With a chill, Huma said, “You’re running from the Dragonqueen’s creatures.”
Something snapped a dried branch. Both men froze. Huma studied what he could of the forest but saw nothing. Magius leaned close and whispered. “I must leave. You know me, Huma. You know what I am capable of. Believe in that. If things take a turn, either good or bad, I will contact you.”
Tall, dark shapes became visible between the trees. Magius glared at them and whirled away. Huma opened his mouth to speak but realized that would be dangerous folly. He prayed Magius had been right in leaving Huma’s sword at the tree, pinning the abomination to the trunk.
Summoning up his courage, Huma resumed the trek back to camp, praying as he walked that the first thing he met would be a fellow knight and not something out of a mage’s nightmare.
As it happened, he met the searchers only minutes from the site where the sentry had disappeared. Huma felt guilty about forgetting the hapless sentry, one who had been even less experienced than he. There was nothing Huma could do for the man, though, and he knew he should be more concerned with what might very well still be lurking outside the camp, and what that might mean. If the enemy had infiltrated this far past the line …
Rennard took his report, none too surprised, it seemed, that it was Huma who had stumbled upon trouble. News of the attacker, who could have been only a mage, did
trouble him, although no emotions were evident in his mien. A party that included Huma and Rennard returned to the spot where Huma had been led. The lifeless form of the sentry showed no marks, as if the unfortunate man had merely fallen to the ground, dead. Rennard spat, and in an unprecedented display of emotion, cursed all mages in general. Huma cringed. He had left out all mention of Magius, though it went against the Measure and the Oath. How honorable was a knight who lied?
Magius, though, was his friend.
Seen with clear eyes, the shadowy attacker proved to be all too solid. Rennard removed the sword from the tree and let the mage’s body fall. Much to his own surprise, Huma reached down and pushed the cowl back from the face. Even in the dark, the face repelled. Only Rennard seemed untouched by the evil stamped on it.
Human the mage might have been, but he looked more like a reptile. His skin was dark and scaly, and it glittered in the light of the torches. The eyes were narrow slits, and the nose was nearly nonexistent. Huma noted teeth that would have put the minotaur’s to shame. More than one knight called on Paladine.
The corpse was muffled within a thick, coarse robe of brown cloth. Rennard fingered it, then released it as he would a viper. “He does not wear the black of the Dragonqueen.” He pointed to a pair of knights. “Take this thing back to the camp. I want to see what the spellcasters have to say. The rest of you, fan out. Make sure he left no surprises behind. Huma, you stay with me.”
They watched the others depart, and then Rennard swung around and glared at Huma with such anger that its very appearance on the otherwise bland face made the younger knight step back.
“Who was the other?”
“There was no one.”
“There was another.” A chill followed his words. “I know. I see no reason why you would seek to hide the presence of a mage, unless …” He stared intently into Huma’s eyes. Huma met the gaze and battled with it. Surprisingly, it was Rennard who was forced to turn away.
The Legend of Huma Page 7