Below lay the cloud-enshrouded world. As they entered the misty ceiling over Ansalon, Huma shuddered and prayed that, despite his victories in the mountain, he was up to the challenges ahead.
“There.” The silver dragon indicated a spot on the southern base of the mountain. Huma looked down and saw the horses and a wagon. The silver dragon had planned well for the difficult journey.
Only when they were on the ground did Kaz argue. “You cannot expect horses such as these to pull a wagon! They have not been trained for such labor. They are beasts of war, not burden.”
“They will do what they can,” replied the majestic leviathan.
Huma, meanwhile, was fast at work on his own idea. He had removed the saddle from his mount. With the aid of a dagger borrowed from Kaz—his own still lay somewhere within the mountain—he cut the saddle on each side so that it would fit more comfortably on the dragon’s back, which was much wider than that of any horse. As the straps would not reach around the midsection of a dragon, Huma was forced to employ rope. Fortunately, the skin of a dragon was much stronger and harder than that of a horse, so the coarse bonds would not irritate or hamper her.
There was little Huma could do about the post on which the lance should have pivoted. The most he could really do was carve away part of the pommel so that the lance could at least rest in something. Then, he strapped the Dragonlance securely to that side and tested it. Huma found he had some movement to his left, but his right had little. Satisfied that it would work, Huma removed the lance and presented the silver dragon with what he had created. She looked at it questioningly, then accepted its design.
“The saddle I saw,” the knight explained, “was very much akin to a horse’s saddle. It is a wider saddle since it must be worn by a dragon. Essentially, the true difference lies in the post on which the Dragonlance sits. The one on the dragon statue pivoted as I removed the lance. I cannot do that without more equipment and more time. Therefore, shaving the pommel to fit the handle of the Dragonlance was the only choice.” Huma frowned at his handiwork. “I did very little actually.”
“This will do,” replied the winged creature.
While Huma was at work on the saddle, Magius investigated the wagon. He did not particularly care for the thought of dragging the lances by cart all the way back to Vingaard Keep—provided the Solamnic citadel was still standing—and he vocalized his doubts to those around him.
“There is no need for all this. I can transport the lances in virtually no time.” The magic-user raised his hands and began to mutter.
Huma dropped the saddle as he realized what was happening. “Magius, no!”
It was too late. The mage completed his spell—and nothing happened, except that the Dragonlances seemed to gleam a little more brightly. Magius looked at the cart and then at his hands, as if the latter were somehow responsible for his failure.
Kaz let out a bellowing laugh.
“Don’t ever do that again!” Huma practically shouted. “You are fortunate; the Dragonlances are impervious to your magic. There’s no telling what might have happened if you had tried a more powerful spell.”
The saddle was secured to the dragon shortly thereafter. It fit—barely. The cuts Huma had made into the sides of the saddle let it flatten out. The ropes were tight, but did not bind the dragon uncomfortably. When that was finished, the knight separated the original lance from the others and, with Kaz’s help, tied it loosely to the left side of the saddle’s pommel.
It was decided that Magius would drive the wagon and Kaz would ride along as escort on the remaining horse. Above them, Huma and the dragon would act as scout and protector.
Huma paused before mounting the dragon, and he stared at the peak. “Gwyneth? What of her?”
The silver dragon turned her head and peered at him with great interest. “You care for her?”
Though admittedly not the best judge of his own emotions, Huma finally nodded. “Though it’s been a short time, I feel I have never known someone as well. Is she not coming with us?”
The dragon opened her massive jaws to speak, paused, and then visibly changed her mind about whatever she had planned to say. “There are things that she must do. It is possible you will see her again when you least expect it.”
It was not what Huma had wanted to hear, but the knighthood needed these lances; there was no more time to waste.
“We may come across some of my kin on the way,” the dragon commented. “If so, we could transport everything in the air and save much time.”
Huma secured himself. He checked the Dragonlance. It felt right in his hand. “Let us be off.”
A lone figure astride a massive warhorse awaited them when they departed the chain of mountains. From the distance, it was impossible to make out whether this was friend or foe, and so Huma, on the back of the silver dragon and high above his other companions, moved on ahead, low and swift, to investigate. Midway there, he saw the figure raise a hand and shout a greeting. Recognition came to Huma a moment later.
Buoron watched wide-eyed as the dragon landed before him. He saw the knight sitting high atop the back of the giant creature, the gleaming lance poised for use.
“Huma?”
“Buoron.” Huma did not dismount. “Why are you still here? Has something happened to the outpost?”
The bearded knight shook his head. “No … I felt that someone should wait here, just in case.”
The faith of the other knight touched Huma. “I appreciate your perseverance, my friend. We are on our way back to Solamnia. I fear we have little time to stop at the outpost, but we will have to do so in order to gather supplies.”
“There is no need.” Buoron indicated several large, heavy sacks attached to his saddle. “I have enough here for four for a week. The horses can graze; there is plenty of good land. Water is also no problem. I can show you a number of streams.”
Huma squinted. “You speak as if you are going with us. I appreciate the thought, but we could not ask that of you.”
Buoron smiled slightly. “I have received permission from Taggin to return with you to Solamnia. He feels that a report should be made of activities at the central command and to see if there is anything Grand Master Trake would have of us.”
“Trake is dead. Oswal is now Grand Master.”
“When did this happen?”
Huma opened his mouth to speak and then paused. He still had not quite convinced himself that it was all true. “I will explain later. If you are free to join us, I doubt if my comrades will have any complaint.”
The other knight made a face. “The minotaur—and the mage?”
“Both are helping.”
Kaz and Magius arrived at that point. Huma turned to them and broke the news that his fellow knight would be joining them. The minotaur greeted him as a fellow warrior while Magius seemed to regard him as a necessary adjunct.
They made little more distance that day. Though the warhorses performed excellently as substitute draft animals, they grew weary as the day lengthened. Eventually, Huma and the silver dragon landed ahead to supervise a camp for the group.
Later, as they settled down, Huma raised his head in alarm at a sound from the distance. It was faint, quite faint, but unmistakable. He caught hold of Buoron and asked, “Tell me, are there many wolves in this region?”
Buoron shrugged. “Enough. Other than ourselves, there really is not much in the way of civilization—at least as we know it. I daresay the elves would differ with me on that question. Why?”
Huma shook his head wearily. “No reason. Just nerves.”
With Kaz and Buoron riding on each side of the wagon, the group started off again the next day. The silver dragon rose high in the air. For the time being, though, Buoron, more familiar with this territory, would guide them.
They reached the forested regions, and Huma tensed. From above, it was often impossible to see what lay beneath the treetops. Worse, because of the weapons, his companions below would have t
o stick to whatever trails existed in the woods.
So intent was Huma on maintaining visual contact with his companions that he neglected his own safety. The silver dragon, too, only barely saw the streak from above.
Huma clung to the saddle as foot-long claws barely missed pulling him from the back of his great companion.
A shriek, fierce, threatening, and deadly, rent the air. A large red dragon filled Huma’s view momentarily before his own silver one dove even closer to the treetops. Huma glanced up quickly. There were two dragons, both crimson red.
The silver dragon did not hesitate when Huma shouted commands. She turned around and lifted herself as swiftly as possible toward the two attackers. Huma steadied the Dragonlance.
Both beasts had riders, and the knight’s mind briefly registered that they wore the ebony of the Black Guard. Then the two red dragons were arcing toward them, and all thoughts of anything else vanished.
Huma tapped the left shoulder of the silver dragon and she immediately swerved to take on the red in the lead.
The thrust of the lance went through the terrible crimson beast so quickly, so suddenly, that the silver dragon was almost dragged to earth with it when she could not pull away fast enough. The rider of the dead leviathan was able to take one swing at Huma in that brief time, then struggled helplessly as the lance was extracted, and man and dragon plummeted toward the forest below.
The second dragon, above the brief battle, dove and attempted to wrench both rider and lance from the back of the silver dragon. The silver dragon, already backing up, increased her velocity. The red beast, instead of landing on its intended victim, came to a confused halt only a few lengths in front of its opponents.
The red’s rider shouted something. The enemy dragon tried to continue its descent, but it hesitated a moment too long. Unfortunately, the lance succeeded only in penetrating the outer hide. The silver dragon, though, raked the left wing of her evil counterpart as she passed over.
The guardsman on the red dragon’s back turned and swung at the silver dragon with a broadsword, striking a lucky blow across her snout. The sword had cut deeply. The Black Guard was not so defenseless as either Huma or his dragon had believed.
The red wobbled away, the damage to his wing severe. But it turned in a swift, jagged arc and came charging back.
At that moment, two more dragons broke through the cloud cover. One was red; the other was huge, bigger than the reds—and was coal black.
The black shrieked angrily—not at Huma and his companion, but at the wounded red dragon. The red ignored the call, so intent was it on avenging itself.
To the surprise of all, the black dragon—it was indeed Charr, Huma could finally see—unleashed a fearsome blast of liquid. The rider of the red turned just in time to see it coming.
The liquid engulfed both rider and dragon. They became one single burning mass, and Huma gasped. Acid. Charr’s own desire for vengeance was so great that he destroyed the two. He wanted the silver dragon, and the knight who rode her, for the wounds they had inflicted on him and his master, Crynus. The remnants of the red dragon and rider plummeted earthward.
The sole red and its rider remained in the background as Charr and the tall figure astride him, the warlord Crynus, sought the two who had humiliated them earlier. This time, Huma knew, the battle would not end until one or the other was dead.
Huma chanced a look downward. As he feared, dark, armor-clad figures dotted some of the more open spaces in the woods. More of the Black Guard. He could see no sign of the wagon or his companions and prayed they could hold their own. Huma already had more than he could handle.
As if marking those thoughts, Charr dove at them.
“Be ready, Huma,” the silver dragon called. “If I can, there are a couple of tricks that I can make use of, but the Dragonlance is our best hope of defeating this obscenity once and for all.”
The two dragons battled for superiority. Higher and higher they rose, neither gaining an advantage. Huma felt the silver dragon shudder as she drew a deep breath. Was she tiring? he wondered. Charr, sensing this, seemed almost to smile in triumph.
Huma’s companion suddenly unleashed a cone-shaped mist that enveloped the front portion of Charr. The black froze in mid-flight and began to fall earthward.
“Huma!” the silver dragon cried hoarsely. “I did not strike him directly, and he is terribly strong-willed. We must attack before he recovers from the paralysis.”
Even as she spoke, she slowed to dive. Huma gripped the saddle with one hand, the Dragonlance with the other, and the neck of his companion with both legs. Had he not ridden before and faced so many trials since then, he was certain that he would have blacked out long before now.
As they dove, Huma watched the black slowly return to life. Charr was already slowing his descent. Astride him, Crynus ranted and waved his battle ax and pointed at the knight and silver dragon above them. Charr’s head turned slowly upward. This time the two dragons came together and fought to the maximum.
The Dragonlance pinned the sinister dragon by its shoulder. Blood dripped freely from that wound.
As the two massive heads thrust at one another, time and time again, the riders drew near enough to strike. Huma, hampered by the weight of the lance, could not draw his sword. Crynus swung his two-headed battle ax, barely missing the top of Huma’s helmet.
Both dragons had become splashed with blood, and it was difficult to decide who had suffered more. The necks of both bore dozens of cuts, bites, and gashes. The black dragon had been raked in the front but had managed to slice apart some of the lower membrane on the silver one’s right wing.
The shoulder wound and the earlier wound to his wing were beginning to tell on Charr. He sank a little, and the silver dragon succeeded in giving the side of his neck a nasty set of gashes. Once more the Dragonlance dug into Charr’s shoulder.
In desperation, the black inhaled sharply, and Huma, afraid that his companion did not notice it, kicked her sharply in the sides. Whether because of his warning or not, her snout came down hard on Charr’s own, clamping the dark dragon’s mouth shut. The acidic blast that Charr had been ready to exhale found itself stopped and reversed. The black shivered and shook, suffocating and burning at the same time.
The frenzy of his wounding sent his claws jabbing deep into the torso of the silver dragon. Charr stopped flying, as his entire system reeled from the acid and the loss of oxygen. All four combatants found themselves falling.
“My wings will slow us, but we still will strike with great severity!” the silver dragon shouted. “If I can, I will shift so as to act as a cushion for you.”
Crynus, meanwhile, seemed unconcerned with the fall. Even now, he struggled to reach Huma or the silver dragon. The wind prevented him from doing too much, and in anger or madness, the warlord unhooked himself from the safety of the saddle—and promptly was sucked away from the rest of the group.
He did not even scream.
Huma stared at the vanishing figure, unable to believe the insanity of the black-armored warlord.
The trees rushed up toward them. Charr’s grip suddenly became limp, and the silver dragon at last was able to release herself.
By then, it was too late. They dropped into the treetops with a tremendous crash.
CHAPTER 23
When Huma awoke, he felt bruised over every inch of his body, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.
He stood up and gazed at the wholesale destruction. The force of two such tremendous masses as the dragons had been enough to level much of the timber in the immediate area.
Charr’s inert form lay to one side, its neck snapped. The hideous face still had a toothy, upside-down smile. The deadly claws pointed uselessly into the air.
There was no sign of the silver dragon, even though at least some of the blood came from her. She must have moved under her own power, but to where?
Where, also, were his companions? Huma could hear no sounds and was disoriented as to wha
t direction they must be in.
The Dragonlance and saddle lay nearby, where he supposed the silver dragon had fallen. The Dragonlance still gleamed brightly, and Huma felt a little better just to see it. At least one enemy rider and one red dragon remained—but where were they?
He could not very well carry the lance on his shoulders; it was more than twice his height. His only real option was to drag it. He looped some rope around the shield, tied it together, and then pulled it over his head and one arm. In his free arm, he held his sword, which had managed to survive the fall.
Dragging proved awkward, and Huma was barely away from the scene of destruction before he caught the lance on an upturned tree root. The knight put down his sword and began to work the very lengthy weapon around. It came loose suddenly, and Huma fell against a tree trunk. Every bruise in his body screamed, and more than a minute elapsed before he was able to sit up and coordinate his thoughts. The first thing he did was to reach for his blade. It proved to be an excellent decision.
The heavy ax struck the tree exactly at the level where his neck had been.
Huma tumbled forward as he grabbed his sword and attempted to untangle himself. To his surprise, no other attack was forthcoming. Instead, his attacker boomed forth with laughter.
“You can have all the time you need, Knight of Solamnia! It won’t do you a bit of good.”
Huma threw the rope down. He tightened his grip on the sword. He looked up to study his adversary—and shook his head, not believing what he saw. It had to be a trick!
Warlord Crynus was casually removing his battle ax from the tree trunk he had nearly severed. His plain ebony armor was dented and dirty in many places, but the warlord seemed in perfect health otherwise. His face remained hidden behind his visor, but his eyes glowed frost blue.
The tall, ominous figure should have been dead.
Crynus took a step forward. His deep voice hissed. “I am so pleased you survived, Huma of the Order of the Crown. You were lucky that day when we first met in the sky over that no-man’s land. By rights, I would’ve cleaved your head from your body. That accidental victory of yours never should have happened, and I have remembered ever since.”
The Legend of Huma Page 26