The Legend of Huma

by Richard Knaak

  “You look like Buoron. All that silly metal. He comes to visit me. Would you like to see my home?”

  Huma stepped back anxiously. Her home, according to what little he knew, was probably at the bottom of the lake. If she decided to compel him … “No, thank you,” he hurriedly answered. “I would not wish to impose.”

  She pouted. “You even sound like Buoron.”

  “Were you expecting him?” Huma glanced quickly around the edge of the lake, half-expecting to see a heavily armored figure come crashing through the trees at any moment.

  The nymph walked onto the shore. Huma turned to Magius, but the mage still slept.

  “He won’t wake until I let him. I don’t like him.”

  The knight’s brow wrinkled. “You know him, too?”

  She waved off the spellcaster as inconsequential. “Not him. His image.”

  “Where?” Huma did not know what to make of this creature. She seemed fragile, but her power was strong enough to have trapped Magius with ease. Perhaps that would not have been possible if Magius had not been so exhausted, but it still bespoke great ability.

  “I see it in my mirror. It shows me what others are dreaming. It gets so boring out here. I miss the cavern builders.”

  “Cavern builders?”

  “The ones that dig in the ground, silly. You know, short funny men.”

  Dwarves. It was maddening to try to make sense of some of the things the nymph said.

  She was standing close to him now, innocently leaning just close enough to unnerve him. “Are you sure you would not like to come see my home? I won’t let you drown as long as you do not get boring.”

  There was the real trap. How many males had succumbed to that beauty and followed her down, only to find themselves trapped in a sea cave? Instinctively, he uttered a prayer to Paladine.

  The nymph stepped away. “I wish you would not do that!”

  Although not technically evil, she was not a creature of Paladine, nor Gilean, either. Therefore, true prayers to either, could annoy her or even drive her away.

  Huma was about to apologize when he heard the sound of a heavy horse coming through the brush not far away. He tried to rise and grip his sword.

  “Why, here comes Buoron. I hope you two will fight. I have not watched a good fight in centuries.”

  The horse and rider broke through the foliage and onto the narrow strip of plain surrounding the tiny lake. The man wore a cloak over most of his body, but Huma could see the glint of armor underneath. The newcomer did not notice them at first. When he did, he merely gaped at Huma. The cloak slid open, and Huma was given his first good view of the armor beneath. Huma looked from armor to face, and back to armor again. He recalled Magius’s hurried mention of an outpost somewhere in southern Ergoth. A Solamnic outpost.

  The nymph smiled sweetly. “See why I mistook you for Buoron? You even wear the same armor.”

  It was true. Buoron was a Knight of the Crown.

  CHAPTER 13

  Buoron turned to gaze at the nymph. He was a rough-featured man, neither handsome nor ugly, but weathered. A deep sadness was in his eyes. Oddly, he was also minus the impressive mustache that most knights sported. Instead, he wore a black beard clipped in the same style as Lord Avondale. Huma wondered how long the other Solamnic knight had lived in this region.

  “Leave us now,” Buoron said to the nymph.

  “Will you not fight?”

  Buoron seemed disgusted by the question. “He is one of my comrades. I will not fight him.”

  “Oh.” She frowned, then brightened. “Will you fight the mage?”

  “Mage?” The other knight brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and looked at the slumbering bundle. “He must be sorely tired to sleep through all this.”

  “She’s put him under,” Huma explained.

  A sigh. The knight seemed to expect this. “Why?”

  The nymph pouted. “I do not like him. He is one of the dreamers I showed you.”

  “Is he now?” Buoron straightened, his interest keenly awakened. “Which one?”

  “The one who keeps dying.”

  Huma’s eyes narrowed. At one point in their travels, Magius had revealed that his death scene now repeated itself constantly in his dreams. The nymph could not have known that. Or could she? Did she really see others’ dreams?

  “Release him,” the rider ordered.

  “Do you not want to sit with me?” She shifted all too purposefully. Buoron’s face reddened again.

  “No. Leave us. This is important.”

  The water creature put two delicate hands on her hips and gave an angry look. “I do not like you anymore. I no longer want you to come visit me.”

  She ran off into the water and, when it proved deep enough, dove beneath the surface. There was nothing to indicate that she was anything but human, save for the slight greenish cast to her skin and the amazing fluidity of her movements. Huma wondered how she breathed.

  Buoron muttered, “She does not mean what she said. She’s been angry with me more than a dozen times before, and each time she forgets before I’ve drawn another breath. I believe it’s the nature of her kind, though I’ve never seen another.”

  Huma looked down at the still-slumbering Magius. “Will she remember to release her victim?”

  “Give her a few moments. She can hold onto the spell for only a brief time longer. You know my name, brother of the Order. What might yours be?”

  Huma straightened. “I am Huma, Knight of the Crown, out of Vingaard Keep.”

  “Vingaard!” The name was spoken as if the name of Paladine himself. “Have they broken through at last? Is the war finally coming to a close?”

  Huma shook his head and then stared at the ground. Quickly, he described what had happened. Buoron was not pleased.

  “One of her games,” Buoron said with a gesture toward the water, “is to take the dreamer’s mirror, an ancient artifact, shake it, and see whose dreams she gets.” The bearded knight shivered. “The dreams of the Dragonqueen’s servants are darker than you could ever imagine.”

  “Has she always lived here?”

  Buoron shrugged. He did not like speaking about the nymph. His relationship, no matter what it was, was something the knighthood would not condone. “She was here when I joined the outpost. Her treasures are incredibly ancient.” He paused. “I came upon her by accident. The other knights never come this far. I was chasing a stag, and I had no desire to lose it. It is not often we eat such splendid fare at the outpost. For one reason or another, the stag rushed through here. I fell when my steed came to an abrupt halt, and when I finally had cleared the pain from my head, I found myself looking into her eyes.”

  Huma could read the embarrassment in the other knight’s features. “You need have no fear, brother of the Order. I will tell no one of this lake.”

  Buoron shrugged. “They know, more or less. I have made no secret of my comings and goings, and I have done little more than sit with her. A nymph is not real. I would want something more.” Magius began to stir. The other knight pointed at him. “Your sorcerous friend wakes. I doubt he will take kindly to having been kept under a glamour spell all this time.”

  Huma glanced down. Magius was not yet truly awake, but any decision on Huma’s part would have to be swift. “He need not know.”

  The bearded knight said nothing, but gratitude flared in his eyes. It was obvious to Huma that he cared more about the water nymph than he had indicated.

  Magius leaped up as some sense told him that he and Huma were no longer alone. He turned to stare at the newcomer.

  “Greetings, Red Robe.” Buoron’s salutation was crisp and functional. Magius received only the respect due one who traveled with a fellow knight.

  The mage had recovered. He bowed low in the manner so typical of him and returned the greeting. “My greetings to you, Knight of Solamnia. I had no idea another of the noble knighthood was so far south.”

  Huma’s expression di
d not change, but he was disturbed by yet another lie from his friend. When they had fled from the ruins, Magius had commented on his desire to bypass the outpost.

  “We have an outpost down here,” Buoron replied. “A small one and often forgotten. I do not doubt it will be abandoned as the years pass.”

  “Yes.” The magic-user was visibly uninterested. Instead, he was staring down at the spot where he had been sleeping and then at the lake. “My apologies for not rising sooner. It is unlike me. I did not mean to be impolite.”

  Buoron fidgeted and his horse, a cream-colored charger, stepped nervously about as it felt the shifting of its rider. “Not at all. It happens often here. I, myself, have fallen into the very same sort of sleep.”

  “It is still no excuse.”

  “How far is it to the outpost?” Huma finally asked, causing Magius to glare at him.

  “Not far. An hour’s ride. You must come, of course. Despite the terrible news you bring, your presence would be appreciated.”

  Magius chuckled enigmatically.

  The other knight was taking a distinct dislike to the spellcaster. Pretending not to have heard the mage’s laugh, Buoron indicated the duo’s mounts.

  “These beasts appear to have been ridden all night. They need some proper care if you plan to move on.” He was careful not to ask the purpose of their journey, assuming that Huma would inform him if and when it was proper.

  The mage gave in. “Very well. It shall have to be a short stop, though. We have far to travel.”

  “Um.” That was all that Buoron would say in reply, but he watched both men with interest, Huma noted, as they untied their animals and mounted them. When they were ready, he pointed to the west. “That way. Ride on ahead. I’ll be only a moment.”

  Huma and Magius urged their steeds through the trees and brush. The former glanced back and saw Buoron dismount and remove a small wooden carving from one of his saddlebags. The water nearby began to bubble, and the head of the nymph broke the surface. Then Huma’s view was cut off by the trees. When his companion turned to him, the knight reacted as if his thoughts had been on the trail ahead.

  It was not more than a minute or two before Buoron came riding up behind them. He nodded to Huma and immediately took the lead.

  As they rode, Huma plied him with questions about the outpost. “Are there many outposts here?”

  “We are one of only two. The other lies on the western side of that stretch of mountains.” Buoron pointed to a chain of peaks that became visible only when the trio of riders emerged onto the top of a hill. “Essentially, we oversee the eastern half and they the west. There is little down here to interest the Dragonqueen, though. We have been reduced to chasing would-be brigands when we should be charging into the lines of the foul ogres.”

  “Are you a large outpost? I’d not known there was anyone here.”

  Buoron laughed, bitterly, it seemed. “Neither did I, until I was ordered down here some five years ago. No, we’re not a large outpost. Eighty knights trying to keep watch on a countryside rivaling the size of Solamnia. We had more once.”

  Huma did not need elaboration. Now, with the war going so badly, they truly were cut off from all others save their counterparts on the western side of the mountains. They could not abandon the outposts and go riding north to join the struggle. They had been ordered down here, and they would stay until that order was changed. Duty was something ingrained into every knight. Rennard had expressed the importance of that, time and time again.

  “Have you ever been to the mountains?” Magius asked abruptly.

  “No.” Buoron had no desire to converse with the spellcaster.

  “Has anyone?”

  “Only to the outer peaks. We stay away from the inner range.”

  Magius appeared quite interested. “Why is that?”

  “The paths are unsafe. That’s all.”

  Huma watched his companion’s face fall. Magius was probing for something more out of the ordinary.

  This deep into southern Ergoth, it was difficult to believe a war raged in the land. To be sure, the skies were as overcast as they had been in the north, but there was more of a peace in the woods and fields. It was a false peace, Huma realized, for it would vanish the instant the Dragonqueen’s hordes were finished with Solamnia. With Solamnia gone, the Queen of Darkness would sweep over the rest of the continent in less than a year.

  “We are almost there.”

  Huma took his first look at the Solamnic outpost. It was not a towering edifice like Vingaard Keep. The entire structure was made of wood, treated so that flames could not turn it into a deathtrap. The walls surrounding the complex appeared to be more than four times Huma’s height. The top edge was consistently punctuated by gaps set aside for archers. Only one building was visible over the wall, a watchtower upon which even now a sentry was standing, his attention fixed on the approaching trio. The man raised a shout and pointed toward them. Buoron did not call out, but he gave the sentry a weary wave.

  Huma glanced at Magius; the mage was staring longingly at the distant mountains.

  There were renewed cries when the sentry noticed that one of the two strangers was a fellow knight. The wooden gates swung open as the three neared them, and it appeared that nearly all of the outpost’s inhabitants were coming out to welcome the newcomers.

  “Buoron! Back so soon? What have you brought with you?”

  The tall, elderly speaker must have been a knight even when Lord Oswal was a child. He was deeply wrinkled and his voice shook slightly, but his moves were graceful and Huma suspected he could still handle a sword. Unlike the majority of the knights, who seemed to favor Ergothian beards, the aged knight still sported a traditional, if somewhat silver, mustache. He was a Knight of the Rose, the only one Huma could see upon first inspection.

  “Hail, Lord Taggin. Two travelers in need of rest, one of them a brother to our ranks. He has news of the utmost importance.”

  Taggin nodded grimly. “I’d thought as much.” To the rest of the assembled knights, he said, “Return to your duties! Remember that you are Knights of Solamnia, not a gaggle of hungry geese!”

  Some disappointment showed in the faces of the knights, many of whom, Buoron explained, had been assigned to the outpost for nearly ten years. Taggin had been there twice as long. In fact, he had manned the outpost by himself for many years.

  Huma could not help smiling. Somehow, he felt that he was among a different breed of knights than those back at Vingaard Keep. They were less strict with the rules, more willing to bend to circumstances.

  As it turned out, the outpost included only three buildings. One was the tower, which also served as armory and stable. The second was a type of longhouse, which Huma recognized as the living quarters of the company. The third and, surprisingly enough, the most insignificant-looking of the three was Taggin’s command center and quarters. All were made of wood. To Huma, raised in a village, it was more like home than the proud Keep had ever been.

  The outpost’s builders had planned as well as they could. Huma noted that the structure was close enough to the woods to allow the knights easy access to hunting and to gathering fuel for fires, yet was far enough into the plains so that any attempted assault would force the enemy to rush across long stretches of flat, open field. Water was provided by a small stream and a deep well. Later, Huma would discover that the knights even grew their own crops in a fortified extension behind the rest of the outpost. Again, Huma could not help marvel at the differences between the knighthood here and back in Solamnia.

  Taggin ordered Buoron to deliver the two over to him as soon as they were clean and fed. Magius quite bluntly stated that he would talk to no one until he was finally allowed some rest. The commander frowned at the mage’s arrogant manner but conceded the necessity.

  Huma awoke to the sound of men preparing to ride out. He glanced briefly toward Magius, who stirred restlessly and then turned to the nearest window. The mage peered out. The sun was
going down. A number of fully armored knights were riding out of the gate, more than one armed with weighted nets in addition to their normal weaponry. For a patrol, it contained a large number of horsemen.

  He saw Buoron walking past the doorway and signaled to him. The knight waved to him and turned back. Huma began to dress. Buoron entered.

  “Are you better now?” The other knight was talking low.

  “Much. I’ve not slept this long in weeks.” Huma was silent until he was fully clad. Then he and Buoron stepped outside. By this time, the last of the riders had left and the gates were closed.

  Huma indicated the gates. “Why the heavy patrol? Is there activity by the ogres?”

  Buoron shook his head. “I am beginning to doubt if there will ever be. No, this problem is more local. We do a little trade with the Qualinesti elves, though they generally tend to stay to themselves, like most of their kind.”

  “One of the few who meet with us regularly told us a beast has been lurking about this general region.” The bearded knight smiled. “We wanted to ask them what they were doing so far away from their own lands, but our relationship would not stand the strain. Instead, we thanked them and began to investigate.”

  “Did you see this creature?”

  “We simply call him the Beast. He’s crafty, perhaps an ogre scout, even. Three times he’s given us the slip. Tonight, though, they think they can hunt him down to his lair. With any luck, the patrol will take him alive.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “If he’s a spy, he might have information. If he’s some sort of animal, Taggin still wants to see him. The Qualinesti are concerned about his presence; the commander wants to see why.”

  Lord Taggin was finishing up his daily routine when Buoron brought Huma to speak to him. The elderly knight greeted his visitor amicably—protocol was unimportant out here—but he seemed nervous.

  “You have no idea how it stands at present?”

  Huma shook his head. “None. The hope was to regroup. That is all I know.”